A week passed like mist over water. The days had fallen into a new rhythm -- waking before dawn, cooking breakfast (poorly so), and going on morning walks through the village.

Today Jin found himself drying the laundry while listening to Bao Kun spew questionable "parenting advice". The most reasonable advice Bao Kun gave, not actually reasonable just the most reasonable, "Listen to me Jin, the best way to stop a child's crying is to infuse their meridians with some of your energy".

Jin chose to dignify Bao Kun's advice with a response (considering this was the most reasonable one) "Aside from the parenting advice of yours, which by the way borders on child abuse, where do you get your credentials from,?"

Bao Kun smirks and responds "Aigoo, now that my disciple has become a father he seems to have forgotten the respect for his master"

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Shen walked out to check on the laundry -- only to freeze.

Jin stood in the yard, arms crossed, blood dripping from his lips, his face beaten and bruised.

Shen startled by this sight asked Jin "you look like you've been through hell and back! What happened to you?"

Jin with a stoic look on his face "Nothing happened, I was just training."

Shen replied looking dumbfounded "what technique requires your pants to be removed"

Jin with a faltering stoic face responds "....The Dog Beating Stick Method."

After a long pause

Shen sighed half laughing "You pissed of your master again, didn't you?"

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Morning had come. After breakfast, Jin set out with Lin'er for their usual morning walk around the village. The air smelled faintly of wet earth and smoke from cooking fires. Somewhere in the distance, a rooster still hadn’t given up his morning duties.

Lin’er walked beside Jin quietly, her small hand clasping his. She hadn’t said much at first, but lately, she’d begun tugging him gently whenever she wanted to stop and look at something — a butterfly, a puddle, a stray chicken that seemed far too proud of itself.

Their first stop of the day was Boss Wang's Forge.

After Jin's Body transformation the 150 Jin halberd felt a bit to light. He'd asked for Boss Wang to make him a new halberd that weighed roughly around 250 jin and today he'd come to check the progress.

The old Blacksmith was already up and working, sleeves rolled up and hammer swinging. When he saw Jin and Lin’er, he wiped his brow and grinned, his teeth flashing white against the soot.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite little miss,” he said, crouching down to Lin’er’s height. “You keeping this rascal out of trouble?”
Lin’er blinked up at him shyly, then nodded once — solemnly, as though she had taken on a sacred duty.

Boss Wang laughed so loud the forge walls rattled. “A fine guardian you’ve found, boy! Here—”
He rummaged through a crate and produced a small, lumpy sweet wrapped in paper. “Candy for courage.”

Lin’er hesitated, then accepted it with both hands.
She looked at Jin, eyes wide — silently asking if it was okay.
Jin nodded, trying (and failing) not to smile.

They left the forge with the halberd strapped across Jin’s back and a faint trail of melted sugar on Lin’er’s chin.

As soon as they entered, a middle-aged woman bustled out from behind the counter, wiping her hands on her apron. Mei had gotten on her knees and exclaimed "Ah, my little Lin'er! My look at you --- you're growing prettier every day!"

She reached out under the counter and pulled out a candied plum from a jar and handed it to Lin'er. Jin froze. He could already picture Shen’s face if he found out Lin’er had eaten two sweets in one morning . However, as Lin'er looked up at him for permission, clutching the plum with both hands, Jin sighed and nodded.

There was no winning this battle.

Shortly after picking up all the groceries Jin took Lin'er to the riverbank to skip some stones.

The water glimmered under the morning sun, and a soft breeze carried the sound of distant chatter. Jin taught Lin’er how to skip stones — though calling it “teaching” might’ve been generous.

Every rock she threw plopped straight into the water without a single bounce. But she'd look for the next rock eagerly to try again.

Jin laughed quietly, showing her the proper motion again, and this time the stone skimmed once before sinking. Lin’er’s eyes widened, a spark of awe lighting up her face.

By the time they walked back home, her pouch was filled with pebbles and her lips faintly red from candy.
The world still held its shadows, but for a few hours, it had been soft — like morning sunlight over quiet water.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The morning sun crept lazily through the kitchen window, catching the faint haze of steam that hung over the pot. Jin stood at the stove, brow furrowed in a level of focus that would’ve suited an assassination attempt more than breakfast.

He squinted at the pan, turning a dumpling over with the full caution of a man handling volatile explosives.

Behind him, Lin’er sat on a stool, her chin resting on her knees as she watched in silent fascination. Shen leaned against the doorway with crossed arms, while Bao Kun sat at the table, nursing his morning gourd like a tea connoisseur of bad decisions.

“Ah—damn!” Jin hissed suddenly. A droplet of oil had jumped from the pan and caught him on the wrist.

Shen sighed. “Every day you fight the kitchen like it owes you money.”

Jin shook his hand out, then straightened his back dramatically. “Nonsense. It’s just trying to test my resolve. The stove wishes to see if I fear flame—”
He puffed up his chest, pointing the spatula skyward. “But I have bathed in heavenly fire!”

The spatula immediately slipped from his grip, landing with a sad clatter on the floor.

For a second, there was silence. Then—

A sound. Small. Fragile. Half-buried beneath the simmering oil.

A giggle.

Lin’er’s hand shot to her mouth as though she hadn’t meant to let it escape. Her shoulders shook once, twice, before she peeked up at Jin with a shy, bubbling smile that didn’t quite know how to exist yet.

Jin froze.

Shen’s lips twitched upward, the faintest shadow of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Bao Kun chuckled softly into his gourd. “Hah… even the heavens must be watching this fool perform miracles.”

Jin turned slowly, eyes wide, watching Lin’er’s smile unfold like dawn over winter frost. He blinked once, twice—then smiled back.

It was lopsided, stupid, and perfect.

But behind it, his eyes glistened.

For a brief, quiet moment, the world faded — the crackle of oil, the scent of smoke, even the old wooden walls. He thought of the years he’d spent in cold beds and colder alleys, of nights when silence was heavier than sleep.

Maybe if I’d had something like this, he thought, those days wouldn’t have been so hard.

The thought passed like a breath, leaving behind only warmth.

Lin’er’s giggle lingered in the air, light and pure — the sound of a child remembering how to be alive.

Jin turned back to the stove, blinking away the wetness in his eyes before anyone could see. “Alright,” he said gruffly, clearing his throat, “second round — this time, the fire fears me.”

Shen rolled his eyes, Bao Kun snorted into his drink, and Lin’er’s soft laughter filled the kitchen once more.