Chapter 8 - Blossoms in the Rain, Whispers in the Wind

It was another quiet weekend.

Ruoshui had chosen the "Easy" difficulty setting—he wasn't in the mood for grueling combat or intense survival mechanics. What he wanted was a simple quest, something leisurely and atmospheric. As a gentle breeze stirred, the parchment in his hand shimmered and dissolved into light. The system's voice, coarse and ancient, echoed around him:

[Instance Type: Seeking Immortality. Player, grasp your destiny well.]

In a distant realm, high within a secluded mountain pavilion, an old man paused over his scrolls. His fingers stiffened slightly. The barrier of the realm had just trembled—someone had crossed into this world from the outside.

He furrowed his brow. A traveler had arrived.

With no more than a flicker of thought, he summoned a servant and whispered instructions. The figure bowed and disappeared into the swirling fog.

Ruoshui was carried into the instance by a gust of wind, his robes fluttering softly as the landscape solidified around him. The system's narration resumed, its tone rough yet poetic:

[Though spring has come, a chill still lingers in the breeze. Light rain veils the mountain, draping it in translucent mist. The greenery blurs behind a soft curtain of droplets. It is the season for wanderers. The earth is damp, the air fragrant with moss and leaves. Your robe grows heavy with rain, but you do not pause, continuing along the winding path.]

Ruoshui frowned slightly.

"Why does the system voice always sound like a ghost coughing up blood?" he muttered. "This kind of poetic setup deserves a narrator with a little more class. Just once, give me a voice that doesn't make me feel like I'm being haunted."

Elsewhere in the realm, a scholarly elder dressed in indigo robes sneezed.

Following the trail that curved gently up the mountainside, Ruoshui stepped lightly, his boots leaving no mark upon the earth. The path twisted to the far side of the peak, and suddenly, the view opened.

Before him stretched a sea of white blossoms.

At the heart of the floral tide nestled a small village, quaint and quiet. Smoke curled from a few chimneys in thin spirals, and the faint barking of dogs echoed through the drizzle. The rain softened everything—colors, edges, even sound. It felt like stepping into a painting.

The system chimed in again, slightly clearer this time:

[Once more, the spring rains descend. A wandering traveler stumbles upon Xinghua Village. Though humble in appearance, it holds within it three secrets. Unravel them.]

[Main Quest Initiated: Discover the Secrets of Xinghua Village. Progress: 0/3]

With the objective set, Ruoshui continued down the path. As he approached the village entrance, dusk began to fall. Raindrops shimmered in the dying light like falling pearls.

Near the entrance stood a modest dwelling. From within, the scent of frying fish wafted outward, mixing with the petrichor of wet soil and wood smoke. It tugged at his senses with uncanny clarity—too vivid for a normal game. He briefly considered ordering fish for dinner in the real world once this instance was done.

A low growl pulled him from his thoughts.

He turned.

Perched along the courtyard wall was a cat—plump and round, with tawny-orange fur like a lion cub. It stared at him with narrowed eyes and let out a low, menacing mrrrrow, though it sounded more adorable than dangerous.

[Warning: Orange Furball's hostility level exceeds 87%. Player, proceed with caution.]

Footsteps echoed from within the courtyard. A pair of hands reached up and scooped the feline off the wall. A soft voice scolded gently:

"Xiao Juzi, how many times do I have to tell you? Stop scaring our guests."

The cat gave a reluctant mrowp of protest, but allowed itself to be tucked under an arm and carried off.

[Hostility cleared.]

The wooden gate creaked open. Standing there was a young man—early thirties, scholarly in bearing, with clear eyes and a welcoming smile. He gave Ruoshui a polite once-over, then lit up with genuine enthusiasm.

"You must be a traveler! Please, come in. It's rare to see new faces around here."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned his head and called into the courtyard:

"Xiaohua! We've got a guest! Set an extra place!"

Xinghua Village rarely saw strangers. The young man, who clearly delighted in the unusual, was visibly excited. Ruoshui, in his long robe with a bamboo staff and immortal's bearing, probably looked like something from a tale or legend.

[Hint: Speaking with Xiao Juzi's owner may reveal quest-related clues and improve affinity with Xiao Juzi.]

Ruoshui saw no reason to refuse. He offered a slight nod and stepped through the gate into a neat courtyard, where the scent of food and the crackle of firewood made the rain outside seem like a distant dream.

A square wooden table sat in the center of the main hall, with a teapot already steeping. The young man flipped over two porcelain cups and poured fragrant tea as he introduced himself.

"I am Chen Yazhi, styled Kunsheng. May I ask your name, my friend?"

Ruoshui hesitated.

Name? No problem—he'd use his in-game name. But a style name too? This instance's historical realism was impressively nerdy.

His eyes wandered across the rain-wrapped trees, the flowing mist, the magic that hung just beneath the surface—like something out of an old tale by Pu Songling.

Pu's style name had been Liuxian. He also once called himself Jianchen.

Ruoshui smiled faintly.

"I am Jun Ruoshui," he said. "Styled Liuchen."

"Ah, Brother Liuchen!" Chen Kunsheng looked delighted. "You carry the air of one who has walked far and seen much. A man of the Jianghu?"

"I travel where the wind takes me," Ruoshui replied. "I have a few small skills—perhaps I count."

Chen beamed. "Then you must carry many stories! Please, share a few with me!"

Just then, a woman entered with a tray of dishes. She was young, no more than twenty-five, dressed simply but with a grace that made the plainness seem elegant. She placed the dishes on the table and glanced at her husband.

"Dear, don't interrogate our guest before he's even eaten."

Chen chuckled sheepishly. "Right, right. Brother Liuchen, this is my wife, Mo Xiaohua. Xiaohua, this is our guest."

Mo Xiaohua inclined her head politely. "Welcome, Master Jun."

"And I you, Madam Mo."

"No need for such formality," said Chen. "Call her Xiaohua. It's what we all do."

She gave a small smile. "Then I'll call you Liuchen too."

[Affinity with Xiao Juzi +3]

Dinner was simple but inviting: stir-fried celery with smoked pork, golden-brown fried fish, soft tofu garnished with scallions, sour pickled cucumber, thick flatbread, and warm congee.

"Mountain food may be plain," Chen said as he poured wine, "but it fills the stomach and warms the heart."

To Ruoshui's surprise, it was delicious. The game's sensory immersion made the experience vivid—every bite carried texture and taste, every sip felt real. The meal evoked the flavor of countryside life, far removed from city noise or modern fatigue.

The orange-furred cat—Xiao Juzi—trailed behind Mo Xiaohua, eyes fixed intently on the fish. With practiced ease, she dropped a small piece in front of it. It chirped happily and retreated to a corner with its prize.

Chen talked while they ate. He spoke of fishing by the river, planting vegetables, and the neighbors who traded tofu for wood. But the cat, of course, was his favorite tale.

"Xiao Juzi first came to us one spring while Xiaohua was frying fish," he said, smiling. "It climbed up the wall and stared at the stove like it had never seen heaven before."

Xiaohua added, "I gave it a piece, and it never left."

The cat came back every day after that, until it made the courtyard its kingdom. Now it guarded the gate like a fierce beast—albeit one whose battles were mostly for extra fish.

"I named it Xiao Juzi," said Xiaohua, "because of its color. Like a tangerine with legs."

"It's fate," said Chen with a grin. "I plan to write The Tale of the Hearthside Orange Cat one day. Perhaps I'll make it the hero."

"Then you should include The Desk Cat Chronicles as a sequel," Xiaohua said dryly. "It sleeps on your writing desk like it owns your manuscripts."

Chen nodded solemnly. "Indeed. Author and muse, bound by destiny."

Ruoshui chuckled into his wine.

For a quiet little village wrapped in mist and petals, this place already had more color than he'd expected. He could feel it—there was something beneath the tranquility, hidden in plain sight.

Three secrets to uncover.

And something told him, the first one had just walked across the table with a piece of fish in its mouth.