By the third day of his fast, Bai Yi's stomach had stopped growling. By the third day, Xiao Lan's anxiety had bloomed into full-blown panic.
Bai Yi lay on his bed, watching dust motes dance in a sunbeam. A hollow ache had settled in his core, a constant, grinding reminder of his plan. His limbs felt heavy, disconnected. The world had a faint, fuzzy edge. It was working.
The door slid open a crack. Xiao Lan's face appeared, a pale moon in the shadow. She crept in, placed a ceramic cup of water and a single, plain rice cake on the table. She bowed toward him, her hands pressed together.
"Oh, great sage enduring the trial of emptiness," she whispered, her voice trembling with devotion. "May your spirit grow strong as your body grows still. May the Dao reward your perseverance."
She backed out, closing the door with a reverent hush.
Bai Yi closed his eyes. Idiot girl. I'm not persevering. I'm quitting. Her sincere chants were like mosquitoes in the quiet. Annoying. And yet, a small, buried part of him, the part that had once written poems about lonely autumns, felt the faint, unwelcome prick of being cared for.
He did not touch the rice cake.
On the afternoon of the fourth day, the visitor came.
"Minister Bai! A pleasure to finally meet you properly." The voice was smooth as oiled silk.
Bai Yi forced himself to sit up. Minister Li stood in the doorway, smiling. It was a smile that didn't reach his eyes. He was dressed in rich, dark blue robes, a jade pendant of office at his belt—a much higher rank than Bai Yi's hollow title.
"Minister Li," Bai Yi said, his own voice thin. "To what do I owe the honor?"
"Merely a welcome from a fellow servant of the empire." Li stepped in, his gaze sweeping the sparse room, noting the unused desk, the untouched bedding, the single cup of water. His eyes lingered on Bai Yi's pallor, the sweat on his brow. "I hope your quarters are adequate. You seem… unwell."
"A minor ailment. Contemplation requires clarity. The body's noise is a distraction." Bai Yi recited the line he'd prepared. It sounded appropriately cryptic.
"Ah, of course. The path of the ascetic." Li nodded, his smile fixed. "Though, even the most profound sage needs strength. The court can be a… demanding place. Full of hidden currents." He took a step closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Some were surprised by your sudden appointment. Some even whisper. But I see a man of pure purpose. Tell me, what is your purpose here, Minister Bai?"
The probe was obvious. Bai Yi's head throbbed. The man's unctuous tone was worse than hunger. It was the sound of politics, of the very noisy, clinging life he was trying to leave.
A fly buzzed past Minister Li's ear, headed for the window.
Bai Yi watched it, his irritation spiking. This buzzing, prying man. This buzzing insect. Could nothing be simple and quiet?
"The buzzing fly," Bai Yi muttered, his words slurry with weakness and annoyance, "mistakes stillness for death. How loud must silence be?"
He wasn't even trying. It was just a complaint.
But the air in the room… thrummed.
The silent words vibrated, a low hum that made the ceramic cup ring. Minister Li flinched, his hand flying to the jade pendant at his belt—not a decoration, but a truth-seeking talisman meant to gauge the intent of others.
The pendant shattered with a soft pop, crumbling into dull dust.
On the windowsill, a potted Spirit Orchid, a gift from the palace gardens that had been wilting and grey for weeks, shuddered. Its stalk straightened. Grey petals flushed with vibrant, electric blue. A rich, calming fragrance, like mountain rain and old parchment, exploded into the room, so potent it felt like a physical balm.
Bai Yi stared at the flower, then at the dust on Li's robes.
Minister Li stood frozen, his false smile gone, replaced by pure, cold shock. He looked from the shattered talisman to the resurrected orchid, then to Bai Yi's tired, impassive face.
He had come to probe a weak, possibly foolish man. He found a man so confident he muttered transformative verse from a deathbed pallet. A man whose casual words could break protective magic and revive dead spirit plants. This was no fool. This was a deep, deep lake—and Li had just thrown a stone and heard no bottom.
Fear, sharp and professional, replaced his suspicion.
He took a swift step back, bowing lower than necessary. "Your wisdom… is profound, Minister Bai. Forgive my interruption of your sacred silence. I see my concern was misplaced. I will take my leave."
He nearly fled.
By evening, a new story was weaving through the ministry corridors.
Did you hear? Minister Li visited the new sage. The sage was in a death-like trance, communing with the void!
I heard Li tried to test him with a mind-reading artifact. The sage uttered four words, and the artifact turned to dust!
No, no—he was healing a dead Celestial Orchid with his breath! Its scent filled the hall! Minister Li came out pale as a ghost! He says the new minister isn't just powerful, he's subtle. His methods are beyond our understanding.
In his room, Bai Yi finally took a sip of water. His hand shook.
The System window glowed cheerfully in his mind.
[Physical Status: Weakened. Malnourished. Minor organ stress detected.]
[External Event: 'Mysterious Sage' reputation increased.]
[Note: Passive ability triggered. Host's poetic lament classified as 'Verse of Subtle Revelation.' Effects: Artifact Nullification, Flora Resurrection.]
He put the cup down. The revived orchid's scent was everywhere. It smelled like peace. It smelled like a garden he'd never see.
His fast was working. His body was dying.
And his legend, like that stupid, blooming flower, was just beginning to grow.