Mei Qiao liked the outer herb fields because they were predictable.
Plants behaved honestly,
They wilted when neglected, thrived when cared for, and never pretended to be fine when they weren't. They didn't have the cultivation to lie.
She was kneeling between rows of spirit grass, sleeves tied back, fingers stained faintly green, when a shadow fell across the ground. The earth was cool beneath her, smelling of damp loam and dormant power.
"…You're here early."
Mei Qiao looked up.
Yun Zhe stood a short distance away, holding a basket far too empty for someone who claimed to be helping. Her sleeves were loose, expression relaxed, eyes bright with idle curiosity. She looked like a summer breeze that had accidentally taken human form.
"The sun was out," Yun Zhe said. "So I followed it."
Mei Qiao blinked. "That's… not how directions work."
Yun Zhe laughed. It was a bright, percussive sound that startled a nearby spirit-bird into flight.
"Yet here I am."
She crouched beside Mei Qiao without being invited, peering at the plants with exaggerated seriousness. "Which one bites?"
"None of them."
"A shame." Yun Zhe poked a leaf experimentally. "I prefer things with a bit of fight in them."
Mei Qiao smiled despite herself.
They worked in silence for a while—
comfortable, unforced. Yun Zhe didn't rush, didn't talk unnecessarily. She handed Mei Qiao tools when needed, sometimes before Mei Qiao even asked. She had the spatial awareness of a warrior, even when she was pretending to be a gardener.
After a moment, Yun Zhe spoke.
"You're very good at this."
"It's just routine," Mei Qiao replied.
"That's what people say when they're actually skilled."
Mei Qiao hesitated. "…You're different from what I expected."
Yun Zhe tilted her head. "Oh?"
"I thought you'd be louder," Mei Qiao said honestly. "More… carefree."
Yun Zhe considered that.
"I am carefree."
She smiled, softer this time. The sharp edges of her personality smoothed over in the golden afternoon light.
"I'm just not careless."
The wind passed gently through the field.
It carried the scent of wild jasmine and the distant hum of the Sect's protective arrays.
Mei Qiao glanced at her. "You care a lot about Former Leader Lin, don't you?"
Yun Zhe didn't deny it. Her playful gaze turned grounded, heavy with a history Mei Qiao could only guess at.
"She saved my life once," Yun Zhesaid lightly. "And ruined it a little."
Mei Qiao looked startled. The trowel in her hand paused mid-dig.
Yun Zhe waved a hand.
"In the good way. The kind where you can't unsee certain things after."
The kind where you learn that the strongest person in the room is often the one bleeding the most, she thought
Mei Qiao thought of Lin Yue—quiet, tired, kind even when it hurt.
"…She's very lonely," Mei Qiao said.
Yun Zhe looked toward the distant inner sect, where the spires of the main hall pierced the clouds.
"Yes," she agreed. "So is Sect Leader Shen."
The name settled between them. A mountain of ice that neither woman could move.
Mei Qiao lowered her gaze. "They don't talk like people who were once close."
"They talk like people who are afraid of what closeness might do," Yun Zhe replied.
"One is afraid of breaking, and the other is afraid of being the one to break her."
She turned back to Mei Qiao. "You notice a lot for someone so quiet."
Mei Qiao flushed. "I just… observe."
Yun Zhe smiled. "Then observe this."
She stood abruptly, basket still nearly empty.
"I'm terrible at pretending I know herbs. Will you teach me properly?"
Mei Qiao hesitated. She looked at the empty basket, then at the bright, expectant look in Yun Zhe's eyes.
Then nodded.
"…Alright."
As they walked deeper into the fields together, Yun Zhe slowed her steps without realizing it, matching Mei Qiao's pace exactly. It was a small, unconscious calibration—the same kind Shen Rui had once done for Lin Yue.
And Mei Qiao—who had always believed she preferred silence—found she didn't mind this particular presence at all. In the vast, complicated machinery of the Qinghe Sect, this small corner of the field felt like the only place where the wind was truly soft.