The third week of Meng Ru's labor brought a change. His work was no longer just chopping wood. The Elder, having seen his diligence, expanded his duties. He was now tasked with repairing the village's crude palisade, replacing rotting logs and strengthening weak points. It was heavier, more demanding work, but it brought him out of the isolation of the woodpile and into the daily flow of the village.
It also brought him under the scrutiny of the other youths.
They were a pack, moving together with the casual cruelty of the young and desperate. Their leader was a boy named Gu Moon Bo, a stocky youth with a swagger that came from being the current Elder's grandson. He and his followers had spent their lives in the village, their positions in the hierarchy already established through petty acts of dominance. Meng Ru, the outsider, the one with soft hands who now worked with a grim, silent intensity, was a disruption.
The first confrontation was small. As Meng Ru hoisted a heavy log into place, Gu Moon Bo and two of his cronies sauntered over.
"Look at the river rat," Gu Moon Bo sneered, his voice loud enough for others to hear. "He works like a dumb beast. Does the mud feel like home to you?"
Meng Ru ignored him. He settled the log, his muscles straining, and checked its fit. Wasting energy on a verbal spat had no benefit. The ledger of this exchange showed no profit.
His silence seemed to enrage Gu Moon Bo more than any retort could have. It was a denial of his status.
"Are you deaf, rat?" One of the cronies, a lanky boy named Fen, shoved Meng Ru's shoulder.
The shove was clumsy, but Meng Ru was off-balance from the log. He stumbled, catching himself before he fell. He slowly straightened up and turned to face them. His eyes were cold, devoid of anger or fear. He simply looked at them, his gaze analytical, as if measuring them. He noted Gu Moon Bo's wider stance, a poor attempt to look intimidating that left him open. He saw Fen's nervous shifting, a sign of weakness.
"My work is for the clan," Meng Ru said, his voice even. "The Elder tasked me with it. Is your purpose to obstruct the Elder's will?"
He had invoked the highest authority in the village. It was a simple, logical move, turning their taunts back on them as a challenge to the established order.
Gu Moon Bo's face flushed. He was not clever. He knew how to use his fists and his grandfather's name, but he was unprepared for this kind of verbal redirection.
"You think you're smart, rat?" He growled, taking a step forward.
"I think the fence is more important than this conversation," Meng Ru replied flatly, turning his back on them to pick up his mallet.
It was a calculated dismissal. He was treating them as an irrelevance, a buzzing fly to be ignored in the face of a more important task. For a tense moment, the air crackled. Gu Moon Bo looked like he might strike.
But from the corner of his eye, Meng Ru saw a figure watching from the doorway of the Elder's hall. It was Feng Yin. Her presence was a subtle weight on the scales. An open brawl, an injury to a clan asset just before the Awakening Ceremony—it would be an unnecessary complication.
Gu Moon Bo must have sensed it too, or perhaps his courage was not as strong as his bluster. With a final, venomous glare, he spat on the ground near Meng Ru's feet.
"Your ledger will be settled at the Awakening, rat. We'll see how clever you are then."
He and his followers stalked off, their parting jeers lacking their earlier conviction.
Meng Ru did not watch them go. He lifted the heavy wooden mallet and began securing the log he had placed. Thud. Thud. Thud. The sound was steady, rhythmic, and final.
He had made enemies. It was an inevitable entry in his ledger. But he had also learned something valuable. The pack was strong against the weak but faltered when faced with an unexpected response. They relied on fear and intimidation, tools that had no effect on him.
That evening, his gruel had a small piece of salted meat in it. A minuscule reward. An acknowledgement. The asset had faced a challenge and had not broken.