6. A Walk Through Fields

The sun had risen gently over the village, casting long shadows from the trees onto the paths worn by years of footsteps and market wagons. A light breeze carried the earthy scent of grass and turned soil, mingling with the distant chatter of roosters and the creaking of wooden carts.

Li Sining stood quietly in the open hallway of the old house, gazing out toward the hills where their future farm would soon take shape. His eyes were calm, but his thoughts ran deep, weaving through plans, memories, and what-ifs like rivers in a valley.

It was peaceful.

But peace was never permanent.

A small hand tugged gently on his sleeve.

He turned to see Li Siyun, her soft gaze steady despite the faint tension in her shoulders.

"Fifth Brother… I want to walk around the village," she said, her voice still carrying the gentleness of a girl once afraid of every sound. "Now that I can see again… I want to remember the world properly."

Sining gave her a small smile.

"Then let's go."

They walked side by side along the packed dirt road that curved gently through the village center.

Their pace was slow, measured. Siyun's steps were careful at first—uncertain, as if her body still questioned whether her sight would vanish again. But with each minute, her confidence grew. Her eyes soaked in the world: the greenery, the smoke rising from chimneys, the little children running barefoot near the stream.

The villagers, seeing the two walking calmly through the village in plain robes yet with straight backs and flawless posture, stopped what they were doing one by one.

Whispers followed them like scattered petals.

"Isn't that the brother and sister who live in the north house?"

"They're beautiful… are they really from a noble family?"

"I heard the brother bought eighty acres of land last week."

"That girl's eyes—like moonlight. And the brother… did you see how refined he is?"

"He's too handsome for a farmer. What if they're hiding something?"

"I say… should we ask for a marriage match for our cousin? She's of age…"

Li Siyun, though not trying to eavesdrop, couldn't help but hear the growing buzz. Her steps faltered a little. Her cheeks were already pink—and now, her fingers curled slightly in the folds of her sleeve.

She leaned slightly toward her brother. "…They're staring."

Li Sining gave a light laugh and gently patted her head.

"People are curious creatures," he said with ease, "and when they don't understand something, their minds tend to fill in the gaps."

Siyun peeked up at him.

"Some people gossip because it entertains them. Some because they hope it leads to something. But unless they're trying to harm you," he added, eyes still facing forward, "what they say has nothing to do with you."

She looked at him a moment longer—then nodded. "You're teaching me again."

"Mn. That's what big brothers do."

They reached the edge of the fields, where work had already begun in earnest.

Down in the freshly plowed soil, Li Siming was rolling up his sleeves, boots half sunk in water, helping guide bundles of rice seedlings into the soft mud. His hair was tied back, face damp with sweat, hands stained with the grit of real labor.

Beside him, Li Sijun was elbow-deep in the water, gritting his teeth as he pushed seedling clusters into neat rows.

Not far off, nine shadow guards, dressed like ordinary fieldworkers, mirrored their every movement. Though they remained quiet, their trained precision made them unnervingly efficient. These were men who once killed in silence—now, they handled seedlings like fragile treasure.

Further up the field, under the shade of a makeshift trellis, Li Siyuan was working beside Li Siheng, the two of them digging straight rows to plant vegetables—radish, greens, and beans.

Siheng wiped his forehead with a sleeve and grumbled, "I never imagined I'd end up farming cabbage."

"You should be thankful," Siyuan replied, calmly spacing the seedlings. "It's humbling."

"It's muddy," Siheng muttered. "There's a difference."

Siyuan didn't bother to respond again.

Li Sining stood quietly with Siyun beside him, watching his brothers work. There was something surreal about it.

Once, these same people dined under golden chandeliers and learned calligraphy from palace tutors. Now they stood in mud, sleeves rolled, fingers in soil.

But there was no resentment in their eyes. Just quiet pride.

Li Siming was the first to spot them.

He stood up straight and waved. "Fifth Brother! Siyun!"

"You're already covered in mud," Sining called back. "Are you sure you're the same prince from before?"

Siming grinned, walking up the field path, his hands caked in clay. "Never felt stronger. I'll take honest work over velvet cages any day."

Li Sijun followed after, panting slightly. "I hate water. But… I don't hate this."

Siyun bowed slightly. "You've been working since morning?"

"Someone has to," Siming said, nodding toward the guards. "They've already memorized the rotation schedule. You'd think they were born to farm."

One of the guards nearby heard and muttered under his breath, "We were trained to kill ten men in the dark, not to dig yams."

But he didn't stop working.

Li Sining turned to Siyuan and Siheng, who had now walked over.

"These four are stubborn," Siyuan said simply. "They insisted none of the sisters or brothers should do hard labor. Said it would 'ruin the flower-like fragility of our courtly hands.'"

Siheng rolled his eyes. "Not my words. That was Sijun."

"I did not say flower-like!" Sijun defended, scandalized. "I said delicate—delicate!"

Everyone laughed.

Even Siyun giggled behind her sleeve.

Li Sining looked around at the once-royal siblings—muddy, sweaty, joking—and smiled to himself.

This was what survival looked like.

Not quiet despair.

But dirt under your nails and laughter under the sun.

The rest of the afternoon passed in relative calm.

The workers rotated. The guards maintained a subtle perimeter. The siblings tested how long they could endure under the sun before retreating for water. Even Li Sitao arrived at one point, holding two gourds of homemade herbal tea, and promptly dropped one in the ditch.

Sining caught a glimpse of him sighing dramatically and scolding the mud.

Even that was normal now.

As twilight crept into the sky, casting soft orange over the hills, the day's labor came to an end. Tools were cleaned. Boots rinsed. Arms stretched. A dinner of wild greens, steamed buns, and root stew waited back at the house.

Before returning, Li Sining looked out over the growing farm—the first foundation of their new life.