The morning sun filtered through the maple leaves lining the path to the Jin Clan manor's main gates, dusting the courtyard in warm gold. Wushuang walked beside his younger brother, Tao, and his little sister, Lianyu, the three of them sharing a rare morning free from training schedules, elder supervision, and the constant hum of qi circulation.
"Slow down," Tao grumbled, though his eyes sparkled. He carried a small satchel of scrolls, the remnants of his morning study and minor chores. "I told you, I can keep up just fine."
Wushuang glanced at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Tao had grown lanky in the last year, muscles hardening from cultivation practice and chores alike. "It's not a race. I want to take you both somewhere different for a change. You've been working too hard."
Lianyu, skipping slightly beside him, tugged lightly at Wushuang's sleeve. "Does this mean I get something sweet?" Her voice carried the usual mischief, and her bright eyes glimmered with excitement. "And maybe a toy?"
"Careful, Lianyu," Wushuang said, ruffling her hair lightly. "Don't spill anything before we even reach the market." She giggled, tugging his sleeve again as if daring him to stop her.
Their mother, Lady Yue, had insisted they eat a proper breakfast first, laughing softly as she watched the trio crowd the table. She poured tea for Qingshan, who sat quietly across from her, his gaze warm and steady on his children. He had grown used to Wushuang's rare smiles, Tao's persistent chatter, and Lianyu's spirited interruptions.
"You're taking them out?" Qingshan's voice was low but carried curiosity, almost amusement.
"I am," Wushuang replied, a hint of playfulness hiding behind his usual calm. "Tao has been running himself ragged on his own practice. Lianyu too. Let's remind them there's more to life than cultivating every waking hour."
Qingshan inclined his head slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Wise. You take responsibility for them. Don't let the market drag you into trouble."
Lady Yue's smile softened as she glanced at her children. "You'll be fine. Just… remember to eat, don't rush, and enjoy yourself. They look small now, but they grow fast. Soon they won't be this little."
The walk to the market was brisk but easy. The streets outside the manor were alive with vendors calling out, carts rattling, and the smell of roasted chestnuts mingling with autumn's crisp air. Tao's eyes grew wide at the stalls, and Lianyu practically bounced beside him, tugging at Wushuang's sleeve to point out everything in sight.
"This smells amazing!" Tao exclaimed, stopping abruptly near a cart piled with spiced dumplings. "Can we—can we get some?"
Wushuang laughed, shaking his head. "Patience. We'll go through a few places first. We need to see everything, not just the first thing we smell."
They wandered the market slowly, Wushuang's hands tucked behind his back, eyes taking in not just the stalls, but the people: villagers, merchants, travelers. Even at sixteen, he noticed the small nuances—the way a child hesitated near a fruit stand, the subtle flutter of qi from a wandering cultivator, the glint of sunlight catching off a polished blade.
"Wushuang, look!" Lianyu pointed to a small puppet performance in the square. Strings danced, puppets leaping in intricate patterns, drawing laughter from the surrounding children. Tao clapped and laughed along, and Wushuang allowed himself to pause. His usual attention to detail softened in this moment, replaced by something simpler: joy.
"Do you remember when we were younger," he said quietly, kneeling slightly so Lianyu and Tao could hear, "and Father taught us to focus our qi through play? When you two kept trying to make the dolls fly instead of learning the forms?"
Tao laughed, Lianyu joining in, both of them remembering. "I didn't even get close!" Lianyu admitted, cheeks red from smiling.
"But you tried," Wushuang said, warmth threading his words. "That's what mattered. Even in cultivation, it's the willingness to try, the patience to keep at it, that defines progress—not just raw talent."
They moved from the performance to the sweet buns stand. Wushuang bought one for each of them, watching Tao's first bite erupt in exaggerated delight, crumbs scattering over his hands. Lianyu's smaller buns disappeared quickly, her eyes crinkling as she chewed, cheeks stuffed with sweets. "You're going to make yourself sick," Wushuang teased, brushing a stray crumb off her sleeve.
"You can't stop me, big brother!" Lianyu said, giggling. Tao joined in, laughing so hard he nearly dropped his bun.
Wushuang smiled, letting himself be caught up in the moment. "See? This is important too. These small moments—you remember them. Cultivation is important, yes, but life… life is just as vital."
Tao wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "You sound like Father," he said, half-joking.
Wushuang only smiled. "Maybe. But even Father would agree that balance is necessary."
They strolled to a nearby fountain where water trickled over moss-covered stones. Tao, full of energy, skipped stones across the surface, each bounce punctuated by laughter. Lianyu leaned against Wushuang's arm, chattering about the puppets and the sweets and some clever trick she wanted to try at home. Wushuang listened and laughed with them, contributing occasionally, but mostly content to watch them, to allow himself this rare normalcy.
The air was filled with warmth, the golden sun reflecting off the cobblestones. For a brief moment, the worries of cultivation ceilings, provincial limits, and approaching unknown cultivators faded. Here, there were only three children, a slice of market life, and the harmony of family.
Eventually, Wushuang guided them back toward the manor. The streets were busier now, traders calling their last customers before closing, the smells of evening cooking mixing with autumn's chill. Tao groaned as they reached the gates, hands still sticky with sweets, but his eyes bright. Lianyu clung lightly to Wushuang's sleeve, reluctant to leave.
As they entered the manor, Wushuang glanced toward the training grounds where the older disciples were practicing. "Tomorrow, we return to the routines," he said softly, mostly to himself. "But today… today was for this. For laughter, for being together."
Lady Yue met them at the entrance, her smile gentle. "You've done well. They're happier for it, and so are you."
Qingshan, standing nearby, nodded in approval. "Remember this," he said quietly. "Even the strongest cultivator can lose perspective if he forgets what he protects. Family, bonds, and laughter—they are as essential as technique."
Wushuang lowered his gaze, hands folded behind his back. "I understand, Father. I will remember."
That night, as the three children settled for dinner, the manor filled with quiet conversation and soft laughter. Tao recounted every dumpling, every skip of a stone, every puppet jump. Lianyu added embellishments, small giggles punctuating her sentences. Wushuang listened and laughed with them, feeling the weight of responsibility ease slightly, the rhythm of life flowing steadily around him.
He realized then that cultivation was not merely about qi, spiritual roots, or achieving realms. It was also about life itself—the moments of harmony, the joy of shared experience, the bonds that tethered them to this world even as they strived to transcend it.
The night air carried the scent of autumn leaves and warm bread, and Wushuang, watching Tao and Lianyu drift off to sleep with content smiles, silently promised himself he would not forget this. Not the lessons of cultivation, and not the lessons of life.
Even in a world of qi, realms, and spiritual roots, some lessons came not from technique, but from laughter and family.