Sunlight came down like quiet praise. The Stone Village woke to a soft chorus — roosters, small children, and the whispering of the willow. But the willow's whisper was different today: urgent, delighted, alive.
Qingmu had discovered the garden.
It began at his toddling feet. He reached for a clump of moss with sticky baby fingers and something inside him hummed — not words but a pulse. Through the pulse, the system's cheerful bell rang.
[Ding! System Hint: Nurture a Sapling — it will reveal the first path to your Dao Companion.]
Qingmu blinked, bumbling toward the darkest patch near Liu Shen's roots. He pressed his palm to the earth.
Green leapt up.
Not polite sprouts but joyous green: mushrooms glowing like lanterns, slender grass that uncurling into banners, tiny vines that wriggled like curious snakes. A ring of tender plants rose and gently circled his ankles, as if to escort him.
The midwife who had once gasped at his birth came running, then stopped with her mouth open. Villagers gathered. A hush as sacred as prayer fell.
Shi Hao, who had been training with a wooden blade beyond the willow's shade, came to the center, frowning. "You didn't play with my sword, did you?"
Qingmu babbled, delighted. He clapped; a small bloom burst from the ring and plopped on his head like a crown. Everyone laughed — and the laughter carried the same tremor that happened when a new treasure is discovered.
Liu Shen inclined one branch to touch the crown. "You have a gift," she murmured. "A small garden born from your breath."
Inside Qingmu, the system spoke again.
[Green Perception Unlocked. Passive: Feel the moods of plants and sense pathlines of growth. Mission Updated: Seek your first Dao Companion — one whose aura resonates with the Sprouting Dao Seed.]
Shi Hao crouched to Qingmu's level. The blade in his hands was suddenly unimportant. "A Dao Companion?" he repeated, eyebrow crooked. "Sounds dangerous. Or beautiful."
Qingmu grinned and toddled toward the path that led out of the village, dragging a tangle of bright green along. The plants obeyed, making a leafy trail. The trail seemed to point—no, sing—toward the willow's edge. Nature itself, for the first time in many cycles, had chosen a direction.
That night, around the festival bonfire the village held for the willow's health, an old woman whispered to Shi Hao, "The child's garden grows quick. In my youth, we would have offered a sacrifice when the land blessed someone. Now the world will offer him trouble instead."
Shi Hao's eyes, steady in the firelight, met Liu Shen's shadow among the leaves. The smile on his face was both boyish and iron-certain. "Then we'll be trouble's answer."
Qingmu, asleep on Liu Shen's lap, dreamed of tiny trees that bowed to him and of a long road lined with flowers. It was a very small dream — but then, great things often begin small.
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