Chapter 13: The First Five Leaves

The following Saturday began like most days in Nanjiang—slow, warm, and fragrant with the scent of sesame oil and jasmine rice from nearby kitchens.

But inside Stillness House, change was gently brewing.

Lin Mu had risen early, long before the first chirps of sparrows. In the misty light of dawn, he paced the garden with a kettle in one hand, sprinkling dew-fresh water across the potted herbs, his movements slow and precise.

Today would be the first trial of their five-guest limit system.

Each appointment was quietly arranged. No signboard, no social media page. Just word-of-mouth and phone calls answered in soft tones by Xu Qingling in the evenings.

Their system wasn't built for scale.

It was built for stillness.

At precisely 9:00 a.m., the first guest arrived.

A frail woman in her seventies, accompanied by her daughter. Her hands trembled as she lowered herself into the bench beneath the flowering wisteria.

"I haven't slept more than two hours a night since my husband passed," she murmured. "Someone said your tea helped her dream again."

Lin Mu offered her "Evening Garden" with a small piece of candied lotus root on the side.

The woman took one sip and let out a long, soft breath. By the time the cup was empty, her shoulders had lowered, and her hands were still.

She didn't say much.

But as she left, she held Lin Mu's hand with both of hers and said only, "Thank you."

---

The second and third guests arrived together.

A young mother and her teenage son, visiting from the outskirts. The boy was anxious, chewing at the corner of his sleeve. The mother smiled nervously, clearly unsure of what they'd signed up for.

Xu Qingling prepared "Clear Mind" — a mild ginseng and lotus seed blend.

The boy drank without protest. Then slowly, he looked around the garden.

"This place feels like when I used to hide in my grandma's garden," he said suddenly.

His mother blinked. "You never told me that."

"I forgot," he muttered. "Until now."

When they left, they each bought a small sachet. The mother added a quiet, "We'll come back when the school exams end."

---

The fourth guest, a bespectacled man in his late thirties, asked few questions.

He chose "Mountain Calm" from the menu and read a weathered poetry book while sipping. Occasionally, he scribbled lines in the margin of his journal. After forty minutes, he nodded to Lin Mu, gave a silent thumbs-up, and left.

---

But it was the fifth guest who left the most lasting impression.

A young woman in business attire, crisp and sharp-edged in posture. She introduced herself by her surname—Zhao—and didn't smile.

"I heard your place helps with stress," she said.

Lin Mu nodded. "That's what we aim for."

"I don't have time for long sessions. I'll stay twenty minutes. I just want something that helps me focus."

Xu Qingling prepared a rarely served blend: "Iron Thread" — tieguanyin, white peony, and a dash of his own-grown night mint from the portable world.

As the woman drank, her posture softened.

"I haven't been in a quiet place in weeks," she murmured.

She glanced at Xu Qingling. "Do you run this together?"

"We do," Xu Qingling replied.

Zhao looked between them. "That's rare."

She finished her tea and stood up.

Before she left, she looked back and asked, "Do you take bookings for next week?"

Xu Qingling smiled. "We do. But only if you promise to stay thirty minutes next time."

Zhao smirked. "Fine. Thirty-five."

---

After the final guest had gone, the courtyard was quiet again.

Lin Mu and Xu Qingling sat together beneath the pomegranate tree, each with a cup of "Peaceful Ember"—a smoky, floral blend meant to ground the soul.

"That was a full day," Xu Qingling said, tucking her legs beneath her on the cushion.

"Five guests," Lin Mu said. "And not one asked to post about it on social media."

"We're either doing something really right," she said, "or something completely unmarketable."

"Hopefully both."

They laughed softly.

She leaned her head on his shoulder again, now as natural as breathing.

"We should name the garden sections," she said. "For easier guest seating."

"Good idea."

"And we should label the blends better. Maybe print custom tags."

"I'll design them tonight."

They sat in silence for a while, sipping slowly.

Then she looked up. "Can I see the portable world again tonight?"

Lin Mu met her gaze. "Of course."

---

That night, back inside the portal, they began crafting.

In the serene space, lit by pale moonlotus light, they sat side by side on the wooden floor of the pavilion with papers, brushes, and ink. Xu Qingling painted simple tea labels by hand—each one bearing the name of the blend in elegant, rounded script.

Lin Mu sorted jars, adjusting portions of herbs, checking freshness, balancing dryness and aroma.

They worked in perfect quiet rhythm, broken only by shared smiles and the gentle clink of porcelain.

At one point, she leaned over and dipped her brush into his ink by mistake.

"Oops."

"No harm done," he said.

"Still," she murmured, dabbing the rim of his jar with a cloth, "I like that even your ink smells like fresh tea leaves."

He looked at her—eyes glowing softly in the enchanted light.

"You make this place feel more alive," he said.

Her hand stilled.

Then she said quietly, "Maybe this place makes me feel more alive too."

---

At midnight, after everything was labeled and the herbal store refilled, they stood together on the pond bridge, looking up at the swirling stars above the fake sky.

"It's funny," Xu Qingling said. "I used to think I wanted a city job, a high-rise, a sleek office. But now…"

"You're saying this garden is enough?" he asked.

She smiled, eyes reflecting the water.

"I'm saying this person is."

He turned toward her slowly.

She didn't step back.

They stood like that, barely an inch apart, for several heartbeats.

The moment was gentle. It wasn't loud or fiery.

Just… warm.

Then, without any announcement or confession, they leaned forward together, their lips meeting softly in the still air.

No rush.

No fear.

Only the scent of night mint and tea leaves between them.

---

The next morning, Xu Qingling brewed the first pot of tea before sunrise.

Lin Mu stepped out into the garden, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

She handed him a cup.

"This one's for you. I'm calling it 'Waking Light.'"

He sipped.

Delicate, with hints of lemongrass and honeysuckle.

"It tastes like you," he said.

She rolled her eyes, laughing.

"Let's make a new menu," she said. "And maybe… a logo?"

He nodded.

Stillness House wasn't just a place anymore.

It was becoming a name.

A memory.

A future.

And they were building it—slowly, one quiet guest and one perfect cup at a time.

---

End of Chapter 13