Two years passed like wind sweeping yellow dust across the plains.
Xiao Chen was now seventeen — still thin, but no longer frail. Daily labor on the hill, digging roots and carrying water for the village elders, had quietly built strength into his limbs. His eyes had grown deeper, carrying a calm that made even Zhao Hu think twice before provoking him these days.
The black rune mark on his chest had become a constant companion. Some nights, when he meditated unknowingly beneath the willow, faint strands of spiritual energy would drift into his body. His meridians had widened slightly without him realizing, and his senses sharpened — he could hear birds miles away, see details in the stars that others missed.
But to the village, he remained the quiet orphan with no future.
Qing Lian had turned sixteen. She had blossomed quietly, like her namesake lotus — clear-eyed, graceful in simple cloth dresses, her presence gentle yet unyielding. Many young men in the village and even from nearby settlements now found excuses to pass by her family's hut.
Li Wei, son of the county magistrate, had visited Willow Leaf Village three times in the past year under the pretext of tax inspection. Each time, his gaze lingered on Qing Lian longer than necessary.
Today was the fourth.
A small procession entered the village at midday — four guards in fine armor, a decorated carriage, and Li Wei riding a tall horse at the front. He wore brocade robes embroidered with silver threads, a jade pendant swinging at his waist. At nineteen, he carried himself with the arrogance of one born to power.
Village Head Zhao greeted them personally, bowing low.
"Young Master Li honors our humble village again!"
Li Wei dismounted gracefully, smiling warmly. "Uncle Zhao, no need for such courtesy. My father simply wishes to ensure the harvest tax is collected fairly."
His eyes, however, scanned the crowd gathering curiously.
They found Qing Lian near the well, helping her mother draw water.
Li Wei approached directly, ignoring the villagers' whispers.
"Miss Qing Lian, it has been half a year. You grow more beautiful with each season."
Qing Lian paused, then continued filling her bucket. Her tone was polite but distant.
"Young Master Li flatters me. We are only poor villagers — beauty means little when there is work to do."
Li Wei laughed lightly. "Modesty suits you. I brought some gifts from the county town — silks, jewelry, medicinal herbs for your brother's health."
He gestured, and a guard brought forward a lacquered box.
Qing Lian's mother, standing nearby, looked tempted but hesitant.
Qing Lian straightened. "Young Master's kindness is appreciated, but we cannot accept gifts without reason."
Li Wei's smile did not falter. "There is reason. My father and I admire your family's diligence. And personally… I wish to court you properly, with respect."
Murmurs spread through the crowd.
Qing Lian's cheeks flushed, but not from pleasure.
"Young Master, I am grateful for the attention, but my heart is not moved by silks or status. Please do not waste time on me."
Li Wei's eyes narrowed slightly, unused to refusal.
"Miss Qing, think carefully. Marrying into the magistrate's family would change your life — fine clothes, servants, medicine from real physicians for your brother. You would never draw water from a well again."
Qing Lian met his gaze steadily. "Some things are more important than comfort, Young Master. I seek a path of my own."
From the edge of the crowd, Xiao Chen watched silently, hands clenched at his sides.
He had returned from the hill just in time to hear the exchange.
Li Wei noticed him then — the quiet orphan standing apart.
"And who is this?" Li Wei asked with faint disdain.
Village Head Zhao hurried to explain. "Just Xiao Chen, an orphan boy. Good-hearted, helps around the village."
Li Wei's gaze lingered on Xiao Chen's patched clothes, then dismissed him.
He turned back to Qing Lian. "I will visit again in a month. Perhaps you will reconsider."
He mounted his horse and led the procession away, leaving the box of gifts behind despite her refusal.
That evening, beneath the old willow, Xiao Chen and Qing Lian sat side by side as they often did.
The sun bled red across the horizon.
Qing Lian spoke first, voice quiet.
"He will keep coming, Chen-ge. His type does not accept refusal easily."
Xiao Chen stared at the distant plains.
"Are you afraid?"
She shook her head. "Not afraid. Just… tired of feeling like a prize ox at market."
He turned to her. "If the immortals come next year as the merchant said… if we both awaken spirit roots…"
"Then we leave together," she finished softly. "Away from all this."
They sat in silence for a long moment.
Then Qing Lian leaned her head lightly against his shoulder — the first time she had ever done so.
Xiao Chen froze, heart pounding.
"Thank you for always being here," she whispered.
He swallowed, voice barely audible.
"I'll always be here… as long as you want me to."
The willow leaves rustled above them, as if approving.
Deep in Xiao Chen's chest, the Primordial Chaos Bead pulsed stronger than ever before.
A thin barrier inside it cracked open.
The first true strand of chaos spiritual energy flowed into his meridians.
Unnoticed by either of them, the night sky above Yellow Dust Star shimmered faintly — as though something ancient had just taken its first breath in eons.