As soon as the sun reached the sky and spilled golden light through the cracks of the old wooden shutters, I was awakened from my fake slumber by the sound of shuffling feet and a quiet, "Lan'er?"
It was my eldest brother, Shanyuan. He stood at the doorway, half-lit by sunlight, a cup in one hand. His eyes locked onto my face, and for a moment, he froze. His brows lifted in surprise, and his mouth opened slightly, as though words had momentarily ran away from him.
I blinked at him, trying to act the part of being still drowsy from my late-night Qi struggle, not that he needs to know about that of course. "Brother?" I called out, tilting my head. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he slowly set the cup down unto my hands as he walked closer, still staring at me like I'd grown antlers overnight.
Confused, I reached up to touch my face. My fingers brushed across my cheeks, then my forehead, checking for anything weird, horns? bruises? celestial runes?
"I... I don't know," he finally said, his voice cautious but soft. "You just look... different."
"Different how?"
It soon dawned on me why Shanyuan had looked so taken aback.
I touched my face again, more thoroughly this time, my fingers tracing along the curves of my cheeks. And there it was: plumpness. Actual, honest-to-goodness softness where before there had only been sunken skin and sharp bone.
My cheeks, once as hollow as drought-starved riverbeds, now had a bit of a bounce to them.
He scratched the back of his neck, clearly trying to find the right words. "You just look... healthier, I guess. Your skin isn't as pale. Your eyes... they're brighter. You're not as skinny as before."
I blinked again, this time, mildly alarmed. Was the apple that powerful? Maybe for my torn body it was. Then again, I had gone through a full-body Qi circuit rinse, and my body felt lighter today, like it was no longer on the verge of disintegrating with every step.
"Is that... bad?" I asked cautiously. Acting the part of the naive girl that they knew me to be.
Shanyuan shook his head quickly, a smile beginning to tug at his lips. "No! It's good. Really good. It's just... sudden."
I let out a small laugh, brushing my hair behind my ear to hide my nerves. "Guess those gods really did bless me, huh?"
He ruffled my hair like he used to when we were younger, something I hadn't experienced in a long time due to my "sickly state." "Yeah," he said with a grin, "maybe they finally opened their eyes."
.
.
.
"You know it's rude to stare at people, brothers..." I said flatly, trying not to let the weight of three pairs of eyes pin me to the floor. We sat around the table near the kitchen, our dining area. Breakfast was almost at the table.
"Right, right..." they echoed, in the way people do when they're absolutely not going to stop.
"The boogeyman will pluck out your eyes and sell them to the black market for a good sum, you know."
"...What?" Yaoting blinked, visibly disturbed.
"What's a boogeyman, sister?" Yubing tilted his head, squinting as if I might be one.
"Black market?" Shanyuan asked with more caution than curiosity, like he was mentally calculating if he should be worried or just confused.
I sighed tiredly and rubbed my temples, as if that might massage some sense into them.
They continued to stare, their gazes somehow even more intense now that I'd opened my mouth.
It was like waving a flag in front of a herd of curious goats. Regret hit me immediately. I should've just said I drank a lot of water and had a long nap.
My parents, at least, had taken my "immortal healer" story with surprising calm, likely chalking it up to cultivator magic and not asking further. Maybe that's just how faith worked.
But my brothers?
They were like puppies who saw you pull a coin out of their ear once and now expect daily magic shows.
"You look soft now," Yaoting muttered, poking my cheek like it was made of tofu.
"Yeah," Yubing agreed. "Like a bun. A steamed one, with extra filling."
"Great," I deadpanned, batting their hands away. " I'm being compared to dim sum."
Shanyuan snorted and grinned. "Well, you are more edible-looking."
"Shanyuan!"
"I meant in a healthy way!"
Right.
Because that made it better. Nothing screams comfort like being told you look like you'd go well with soy sauce.
"Just say I look radiant or something," I muttered, crossing my arms. "Like a normal person."
"You do look radiant," Yubing said quickly. "Like a freshly steamed pork bun under a heat lamp."
"Why are we still talking about food?!"
"It's morning," Yaoting offered. "You're breakfast-themed."
I gave them all a long, slow stare.
"Alright, alright, leave your sister alone before you scare the soul out of her," my mother said as she stepped out from behind the kitchen's doorframe, which, honestly, looked like one good gust of wind away from collapsing into firewood.
She was carrying a pot of wild vegetable soup with the solemn dignity of someone presenting royal cuisine.
Breakfast, in this household, was an event, mainly because it involved actual food.
We ate in silence.
Well, I ate in silence.
My family seemed to be far too happy in eating their food. Father was already on his third cup of water. Water. He looked like a man who'd just discovered the secret to immortality in a clay cup. Each gulp was accompanied by a satisfied sigh.
They seemed energetic now, more lively. It seemed to be awhile since they had been up, and their hands were never empty of a cup of water. They were guzzling the thing like it was their life line.
Inwardly, I wondered if it would be beneficial if I spare an apple for this family.
I tucked that idea in the back of my head.
.
.
.
Breakfast was uneventful, if such a word could be applied to the quiet shift in atmosphere around the table. For what must've been years, there was no clinking of wooden ladle against a medicine bowl, no thick, bitter scent of boiled herbs clinging to the air like a ghost.