Xuanxi was awakened by the familiar sunlight. She turned over, her arm instinctively reaching for the pillow beside her, only to find it empty.
She opened her eyes and stared at the gray ceiling. The familiar border town, the familiar blacksmith’s shop, the familiar room—she, Xuanxi, was back again.
She lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Early this morning, she had walked back from the teleport station, and her adoptive father, Helasi, had been waiting for her at the door.
She gave him a rare hug, and after saying the usual things a reunited father and daughter would say, she went upstairs to sleep. Her suitcase sat in the corner; she hadn’t even had time to open it.
The pillow wasn’t the down-filled one from the dormitory. It was homemade by her adoptive father. When she lay down, it made a faint rustling sound.
She turned over and buried her face in the pillow. Although she couldn’t smell Xige, the scent of buckwheat husks surprisingly felt nice to Xuanxi.
She flipped the pillow over, then back again. Even though she was awake, she just wanted to stay in bed a little longer.
Footsteps sounded from outside. It was her adoptive father, Helasi. The wooden floorboards creaked under his weight.
“Xuanxi?”
The knock came, very light, as if he was afraid of disturbing her.
“Are you awake? Breakfast is ready. Come down and eat.”
Xuanxi sat up, her hair a mess, with traces of unknown drool on her face.
“I’m awake. Be right there!”
“Then come down and eat. The porridge is ready. It’s best while it’s hot.”
His footsteps retreated.
She sat on the bed, not moving, waiting for her brain to boot up. The curtain was blown by the morning breeze, revealing the blue sky outside.
She reached under the pillow and touched the jade pendant she treasured. She lowered her head, kissed the pendant, then got out of bed and went to wash up first.
The kitchen was behind the blacksmith’s shop, a small room. On the walls hung cooking utensils that Helasi had made himself from materials he found.
On the table were two sets of bowls and chopsticks. The bowls were plain white porcelain ones that could be bought anywhere on the street, with a few small chips on the rims, but they were very clean.
The bowls were filled with plain rice porridge, thick and cooked until the grains had dissolved into the soup, with a faint rice fragrance.
In the center of the table was a plate of the most common pickled vegetables in the countryside, cut finely and mixed with sesame oil and vinegar, giving off a rich aroma.
Xuanxi sat down at the table. Helasi also came over from the stove and sat down opposite her. He picked up his bowl, blew on it, and took a big gulp.
“Eat.”
“It won’t taste good once it’s cold.”
Xuanxi picked up her bowl. The porridge was very hot. She stirred it with her spoon and took a spoonful into her mouth. Warm and soft, it warmed her all the way from her throat to her stomach.
Helasi didn’t speak. He just quietly drank his porridge, occasionally eating some pickles.
His fingers were thick, his knuckles covered in calluses from years of blacksmithing, but when he picked up the bowl his movements were very gentle, as if afraid of crushing something.
Xuanxi finished her bowl, then went to the pot to get another. There was still more than half left in the pot. Helasi always cooked a lot, afraid she wouldn’t have enough to eat.
“It’s delicious,” she said.
Helasi looked up. His grayish-brown face showed no expression, but his eyes lit up.
“I’ll keep making it for you from now on.”
“Mm.”
After eating, Xuanxi stood up to clear the dishes. Helasi also stood up and reached for the bowls.
“I’ll wash them.”
Xuanxi took the bowls away.
Helasi paused, standing still.
“Do you know how to wash them?”
Xuanxi didn’t answer. She put the bowls into the sink and turned on the faucet. Water gushed out, splashing onto the bowls.
She gently moved her finger through the stream. The temperature, flow rate, and direction of the water became clear in her perception.
With a flick of her finger, the water leaped up from the sink like a transparent fish, arced through the air, and landed on the surface of a bowl.
The flow wrapped around the bowl, washing away porridge stains, oil stains, and the small chips on the edges. The force of the water was just right, not too strong nor too weak, rinsing the inside of the bowl like a dishwasher.
Helasi stood at the kitchen door, his grayish-brown eyes widening slightly.
He watched that “water-made fish” swimming in the air above the sink, washing the bowls, chopsticks, and plates clean, before they lined up and landed back on the dish rack.
The fish dispersed, turning into countless tiny water droplets, drifting down from the air, refracting a small rainbow in the morning light.
The kitchen was silent for a moment. Helasi stood at the door, his mouth slightly open.
“This is…”
His voice was a little hoarse.
“Water element magic?”
“Mm.”
Xuanxi turned off the faucet and shook off the water droplets on her hands.
“I awakened the water attribute during the assessment.”
Helasi didn’t say anything. He walked over, picked up a bowl from the dish rack, and turned it over to look. The bottom was spotless, even cleaner than when he washed it himself.
“Did you learn it at the Academy?” he asked.
“Sort of. I figured it out on my own.”
Xuanxi took the bowl back and put it in the cabinet.
“Then I’ll leave the dishwashing to you from now on. I’m going to work.”
Helasi finished speaking, turned toward the blacksmith’s shop, took two steps, then stopped.
“Be careful not to break the bowls. The chips on them are all from when you were little.”
“I won’t, Dad!” Xuanxi retorted, blushing.
“Mm, then I feel relieved.”
Helasi left, his footsteps lighter than usual, probably because he was in a good mood.
Xuanxi stood in the kitchen, looking at the neatly arranged bowls on the dish rack. Morning light streamed in through the window, falling on the clean white porcelain bowls, gleaming with a gentle luster.
She recalled the few things Hildegrifa had told her before the break—after the five destiny veins awakened, her perception range should have expanded further. She could find a quiet place to test it when she got back.
She walked to the door, changed into her shoes, tied the laces, and pulled open the door.
“Dad, I’m going out for a walk to digest.”
From the blacksmith’s shop came the rhythmic clanging of a hammer striking iron. Helasi’s voice traveled out, broken into segments by the hammering.
“Sure, go ahead—remember to come back for lunch—”
“Okay!”
Xuanxi walked out the door.
The shops on both sides of the street were open—ones selling vegetables, meat, and daily groceries. Some people were chatting on the roadside, others were selecting vegetables.
No one looked at her. Probably no one remembered she was the child who had been picked up. Xuanxi walked on the stone-paved road, her mood inexplicably good.
She extended her perception outward. It expanded, from the stone-paved road of the town, to the shops on both sides, to the wheat waves in the distant fields, to the forest even farther. Spiritual energy flowed in the air, as warm and gentle as water.