By the riverbank, Jin finished his training for the day and headed back home. Walking after a long session, he felt accomplished and satisfied. The silence of the night fostered a rare sense of calm within him.

He thought to himself that things had been getting rough at home lately. For the last few days, Shen had been snappy with him.

Recently, the little girl they had brought back from the Crimson Flare Sect had woken up. Her name was Lin — nine years old, vague memories, and little else. Shen understood that Jin had just gone through a major change at work (training) and decided to stay behind to care for her.

But about two weeks in, Shen’s temper had grown short. Jin worried that tonight might be another one of those nights.

And in line with the misfortune the heavens usually reserved for him, tonight was indeed one such night — and it seemed like it would be the worst one yet.

[The scene changes, Jin enters the house to see Shen waiting for him. His face seems drained and tired. Holding a ladle and wearing an apron he looks at Jin with tired disconnect]

Shen speaks in a tone somewhere between accusation and exhaustion "Oh, to think you'd get home by midnight, must have been a good training day"

Jin winced "Shen please stop complaining. You know I just broke through. I need to spend time to consolidate my realm. we agreed you'd wait for me to consolid---"

A third voice cut him off

Bao Kun appeared from the shadows, his face unable to hide the joy he gains from this unusual scene.

"Don't listen to him Shen, he's lying through his teeth. After one has reformed their body, they can stabilize their realm at any point "

Jin grimaces at Bao Kun's comment "Master, not now."

Shen's voice sharpened "Do you know how hard I have to work everyday to keep this household running, while you're out playing with your shiny new halberd".

Jin replies in a pleading tone "Shen please you know that I'm ---".

“Don’t interrupt me!” Shen snapped, his voice cracking with emotion. “I used to be a promising swordsman before all of this. Do you still remember that?”

He took a breath, tone softening. “But enough about me — how do you think this affects Lin’er?”

He paused again, his voice now low, trembling between anger and worry.
“That child trembles in her sleep. She barely speaks of what happened in the dungeon. She doesn’t even recognize you half the time. Open your eyes, Jin — she’s still hurting.”

Jin wanted to respond, but his tongue felt heavy — weighed down by guilt for neglecting his “family.” His thirst for strength had blinded him, made him unable to see the immensity of his obligations.

Meanwhile, Bao Kun looked like he was witnessing the play of the century.
His grin stretched ear to ear. The heavens truly bless me today, he thought. Where else would I get front-row seats to such divine comedy?

Jin finally apologized and promised to put his training on hold until Lin’er had settled in.

As he turned in for the night, Jin couldn’t shake the feeling that something about the situation was off.
Behind him, Bao Kun rolled on the floor, laughing uncontrollably.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Unable to sleep after the conversation, Jin rose after hours of tossing and turning.
He walked silently through the hallway and approached the room where Shen and Lin’er slept. Slowly, he opened the door just enough to peek inside.

Lin’er was curled up tightly, clutching Shen’s sleeve as if it were a lifeline. Her breathing came in shallow bursts — the kind that carried memories of fear.

The sight hit Jin harder than he expected. From her trembling hands to the way she pressed herself small against the wall, she reminded him of something he’d long buried. He had seen this before — felt it before.

His chest tightened. He didn’t know what to say, what to do.
All he could think was: She’s smaller than I thought.

He closed the door softly, afraid to wake her.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Morning came soon. Jin, unable to sleep, found himself in the kitchen at the break of dawn. Having wandered for most of his emancipated life, he’d never cooked anything beyond a simple bowl of rice porridge.

However, today Jin planned to put his best foot forward.

He had fought beasts, escaped dungeons, and survived heavenly fire.
How difficult could a simple steamed bun be?

The answer became apparent within minutes.

Flour — or something that looked like flour — coated the entire table, most of the walls, and a suspicious portion of Jin’s hair. The bowl meant for dough looked like a battlefield. Jin had poured in water, then more water, then more flour, then… something that might have been salt, though the jar wasn’t labeled.

When he tried to knead it, the dough clung to him like a cursed spirit.
“So this is your domain, huh?” Jin muttered grimly. “Even in the face of a heartless demon, I never yielded. You’re a foolish bastard if you think today’s the day I bend the knee.”

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Shen woke to sunlight seeping through the cracks in the wooden walls. Lin’er sat quietly in the corner, wide awake.

“You’re already up, huh?” Shen said softly. “Come on, let’s get you some breakfast.”

When the two entered the kitchen, they found Jin on his knees before the stove, head bowed in defeat.

“Steamed buns,” Jin muttered, “you truly are the strongest opponent I’ve ever faced.”

Shen stared at the flour-caked figure before him.
“...What in the nine heavens are you doing?”

“Reflecting on my failures.”

The dough — or what remained of it — sat beside him, a shapeless mound that looked more like something you’d exorcise than eat.

Shen crossed his arms. “You’re supposed to steam them, not interrogate them.”

“They resisted,” Jin said solemnly.

Lin’er peeked out from behind Shen, curious.

That was when Bao Kun entered, gourd in hand, grin already forming.
“Ah, my prodigal disciple,” he said, surveying the wreckage. “Truly, your cultivation has advanced. You’ve managed to make the kitchen experience tribulation.”

“Master, please—” Jin groaned.

Bao Kun picked up a charred lump with two fingers. “Magnificent. Dense qi structure, impossible to chew — you’ve reinvented the spiritual core.”

Shen rubbed his temples. “Stop encouraging him. The last thing we need is a batch of enlightened buns.”

Bao Kun ignored him completely and turned to Lin’er.
“Little one, what do you think of your Uncle Jin’s cooking?”

Lin’er tilted her head, studying Jin solemnly. Then, after a pause, she said, “He looks… brave.”

For a moment, the room went silent.
Then Bao Kun burst out laughing, Shen sighed, and Jin just stared blankly — unsure whether to feel proud or insulted.

Finally, Shen shoved him lightly toward the door. “Go wash up before you start cultivating yeast next.”

Jin trudged away, head hung low, leaving a trail of flour like a defeated snowman.

Bao Kun took a long sip from his gourd and sighed. “It seems parenthood can even change fools like my disciple.”

Shen threw a ladle at him.