"…Oh dear." Meiruo said looking at the fallen window.
Mingzhe blinked. "…Ah." He stepped forward quickly. "I can fix that!"
With a few quick adjustments, he set the frame back into place, securing it with practiced hands.
Meiruo watched him for a moment. "You're quite skilled."
"Heh, just something I picked up," he said casually, brushing his hands together.
Probably just a small task before training starts, he thought.
They moved on.
"This is the main courtyard where Master resides. When he is here, we do morning greetings before breakfast."
She slid the door open.
Mingzhe braced himself he was about to greet the sect leader for the first time. This was it this was the moment he'd been waiting, there was a grand ceremony waiting for him behind these doors.
But what greeted him was a mess, traces of the scuffle from yesterday. Furniture slightly askew. Papers scattered. A cushion flipped over. One table leg looked like it had been chewed.
"Lianhua made quite a mess again," Meiruo said calmly. "I'll tidy this up first."
Mingzhe paused.
Then nodded firmly.
"Let me help!"
He jumped in without hesitation. Meiruo handed him items one by one, pointing where they belonged. He moved quickly, efficiently, restoring order with the ease of someone used to cleaning up after chaos.
By the time they finished, the room looked spotless.
"Good work," Meiruo said.
Mingzhe wiped his brow lightly, that was a let down it wasn't the grand greeting he'd imagine.
"Is something the matter?" Meiruo asked, looking at Mingzhe's uneasy face.
"No, nothing," he said, forcing a laugh. "It's just… back in my village, traveling cultivators used to tell stories."
He shifted a little, warming to the memory.
"They said when a new disciple is accepted, there's this grand celebration that lasts the entire day."
His hands moved as he spoke, painting the scene.
"Lanterns are hung across every courtyard, tables filled with food and wine, and all the disciples gather to watch. There's even sparring exhibitions, music, and performances to celebrate the new recruits. Nobles from the city would enter the halls and offer gifts and treasures to support the new disciple in his training."
He chuckled softly.
"Then the new disciples are led in one by one, announced loudly in front of everyone. Then they kneel before the sect leader and take an oath while the elders look on."
He paused, glancing around the quiet, slightly worn courtyard. A small, sheepish smile appeared on his face.
"…That's what I heard, at least."
"Indeed that does happen for bigger sects" Meiruo said with a small, awkward smile. "Each sect is different and well Dewdrop sect doesn't have such formal ceremonies."
"…Oh." Mingzhe said feeling a little deflated.
"But you will greet Master when he returns."
"When he returns? He's not here?"
"He left on urgent business. He'll be back before the Moon Festival. In the meantime, I'll be guiding you. He also assigned a capable teacher to help."
"Oh! Got it!"
A capable teacher. That's right that's all Mingzhe needed, someone who'll help him get stronger so he can reach the top.
"This is the eastern courtyard. Lianhua and I stay here. And across from this courtyard is the garden."
Mingzhe immediately perked up.
"A garden of spirit herbs?" he asked quickly. "The kind that glow at night and absorb moonlight?"
He stepped forward with sudden enthusiasm, already reaching for the ladle and bucket nearby.
"Ah, the garden needs watering. Here, allow me."
He moved between the rows with purpose, ladling water onto each plant as though performing some sacred cultivation ritual.
The vegetables did not glow. They did not tremble with Qi. They simply swayed slightly under the water.
"No," Meiruo said calmly. "They're just regular vegetables."
Mingzhe paused mid-pour.
"…Regular?"
"Yes. We sell some in town."
He looked again.
Green leaves. Damp soil. A faint smell of earth.
Nothing mystical at all.
"…I see."
He continued watering in silence.
Scoop. Pour. Repeat.
Somewhere along the way, the "cultivation garden" in his mind quietly collapsed.
Next, Meiruo led him onward.
"This is the training courtyard. I'll show you how to—"
"Finally," Mingzhe cut in, eyes lighting up. "Combat training? Sword forms? Body tempering?"
Meiruo blinked.
"…Sweep and mop. This is done daily to prevent accidents."
"Oh."
"…Right."
He picked up the broom.
At first, he swept with conviction, as though each stroke might one day become a sword technique. Dust rose in rhythmic waves. Stones clicked softly against the ground.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
His expression slowly flattened.
This is exactly like sweeping the yard back home.
By the time Mingzhe was covered in dust and sweat, Meiruo led him to the back courtyard.
"This is the bathing area."
It was simple. A stone basin sat at the center, flanked by cobbled ground and bamboo screens for privacy. Several empty water jars stood nearby.
No steaming spirit pool. No cleansing formation array.
Just water. And buckets.
"…There's no water," Mingzhe said quietly.
"Yes," Meiruo replied. "The river is east of here. Could you fetch some?"
She handed him two buckets.
"Don't worry. It's not far."
It was very far.
And very uphill.
By the time Mingzhe returned, shoulders aching and breath uneven, the idea of "cultivation sect life" had already begun to feel suspicious.
When he finished filling every jar, Meiruo was already in the kitchen.
"Oh, you're back. Thank you for your help. I was about to cook, but we're out of kindling."
Mingzhe let out a tired laugh.
"…Of course we are."
"I'll go chop wood," he said automatically.
Each swing of the axe felt heavier than the last, as though the wood itself resented him.
By the time breakfast was served, Mingzhe sat motionless at the table.
Meiruo placed a bowl of white rice in front of him, along with fish soup and pickled vegetables.
Mingzhe stared.
This… was it?
No roasted spirit beast. No rare beast meat. No medicinal herbs arranged like art.
Just rice.
Simple. Quiet. Ordinary.
"Thank you for your hard work," Meiruo said gently. "Hanhan caught the fish this morning."
His stomach growled despite himself.
Just as his hand moved toward the chopsticks—
FLAP! FLAP!
A white falcon swooped in, landing directly in front of him, blocking his reach.
"Hey—!"
THUD!
A foot slammed into his head, pushing his face straight into the table.
"I'm back! I'm starving!"
"HEY!" Mingzhe snapped up. "Do you have no manners?!"
"Don't you?" Lianhua shot back instantly. "Big sister Meiruo hasn't even sat down yet and so eager to eat all of the food. Hanhan caught that fish for Big sister Meiruo!"
"Kee—kee!" The snow falcon, familiar Hanhan snapped as if scolding him for picking up his chopsticks.
Mingzhe opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
"…Fine."
But Lianhua wasn't finished.
"Big sister Meiruo is the future Chief Disciple, you know - your rookie should show some respect!"
"Chief Disciple? Her?!"
"Yes her! She is master's first disciple afterall, and the strongest among all six - well seven now!"
Mingzhe froze slightly and looked at Meiruo.
She was calmly serving food, sleeves lightly rolled, expression gentle. Not imposing. Not overwhelming.
Just… quiet.
Ordinary.
His mind flickered.
Mo Ziyu.
The Myriad Jade Sect's Chief Disciple Candidate he had seen yesterday. Then he looked back at Meiruo. She looked so fragile there's no way, the gap felt almost absurd.
Chief Disciples were meant to stand at the peak of their generation. They led sects into tournaments, fought for imperial recognition, earned sponsorships and resources that decided the fate of entire factions.
And her…?
Mingzhe's gaze lingered a moment longer.
Could she even hold a candle to someone like Mo Ziyu? Just how weak was this sect!