The golden lines of dawn crept through the cracks in the wooden shutters, painting themselves across the dirt floor of Zhao Li’s new home. A warm sensation trickled across her chest, stirring her awake. Zhao Li didn’t move immediately; she was too stiff, her body still wrestling with sleep. After a few bouts of battle, she finally defeated the stiffness in her body and sat up with a long yawn.

  As tears formed in her eyes from the yawn, she wiped them away, then smacked her lips shut. Goosebumps rose around her body as a cold wind blew through her new home, carrying the faint scent of dew and earth.

  She swung her legs over the side of the cot and reached for her worn boots. The leather was still pristine, but the edges had frayed slightly from the little work she had been doing for the past couple of months.

  She reached for her boots, scooping them up and slipping them on, taking her time, as if delaying the start of her day might somehow make it easier.

  But she knew better.

  she mused. Zhao Li pushed herself up, smoothed out the wrinkles in her plain tunic, and grabbed the wooden bucket by the door.

  She exited her bedroom and entered the main room of her new home. The main room of Zhao Li’s home was a humble yet functional space, embodying the simplicity of rural life. A small, square wooden table stood at the center, its surface worn smooth by years of use, surrounded by three low stools carved from sturdy oak.

  On the far wall, a stone hearth crackled with a modest fire, its flames casting a warm, flickering glow that danced across the room. Above the hearth hung a blackened iron pot, suspended by a hook, ready to boil water or simmer a simple meal.

  The air carried the faint scent of smoke and dried herbs, mingling with the earthy aroma of the packed dirt floor. A narrow wooden shelf beside the hearth held a few clay bowls, a teapot, and a stack of firewood, neatly arranged but showing signs of frequent use. The room was sparse, with no unnecessary adornments, yet it exuded a quiet sense of order and care, a reflection of Zhao Li’s disciplined nature.

  The walls, made of packed earth and timber, were bare except for a single scroll hanging near the door, its calligraphy faded but still legible. The stove, a simple brick structure with a flat iron surface, sat adjacent to the hearth, its soot-streaked exterior a testament to countless meals prepared over its flames.

  Despite its modest size, the room felt alive with the rhythms of daily life—the crackle of the fire, the faint clink of utensils, and the quiet hum of Zhao Li’s presence as she moved about, tending to her tasks with quiet efficiency. It was a space of solitude and reflection, a sanctuary where the weight of the outside world could be momentarily set aside.

  As embers from the place crackled minutely, Zhao Li approached the stove; she looked in the pot and the strong scent of herbs and spices flooded into her nose, forcing her lips to water. She hefted a cloth from the table, lifted the pot off, and placed it on the table. She looked for her bowl, which was close to the water bucket, and washed it out quickly, then poured two scoops of soup into her bowl, and placed the pot back on the hook.

  She gobbled the soup down, burping at least twice, then made her way through the door. The village burst into existence before her.

  The village wasn’t completely quiet; other people were going about their daily tasks. In the background, the Snow Jade Dragon Mountains lie behind the thatched-roof homes clustered together like a patchwork quilt spread across the valley.

  The narrow dirt paths wound between various cottages, their surfaces worn smooth by generations of footsteps, while small gardens of vegetables and herbs flourished in the spaces between. At the heart of the village stood the square, a wide, open space of packed earth that served as the communal gathering place. A raised wooden platform dominated the center, its planks weathered and gray from years of exposure to the elements.

  The platform was a focal point for village life, used for everything from announcements and celebrations to the occasional martial arts demonstration. Surrounding the square were a few modest stalls, where villagers traded goods—baskets of fresh produce, bundles of firewood, and handcrafted tools—their voices mingling in a low, steady hum. The scent of wood smoke and the faint tang of livestock filled the air from the nearby pens.

  As a few early risers moved around, Zhao Li couldn’t hear their voices or footsteps. Those who acknowledged her, she nodded to politely, but there were those who didn’t acknowledge her, their eyes flickering over Zhao Li’s face before returning to her task.

  It was the same every morning, a reminder of who she is.

  An Axsumite in Huaxia.

  At least the villagers acknowledge my existence, she thought. “The villagers in the Purple Mist Valley treated me as though I didn’t exist.”

  Despite the villagers’ politeness, their smiles never reached their eyes, and their words always carried a faint edge of distance. Zhao Li had long learned back at the Purple Mist Valley not to take it personally. After all, she was an outsider here, and no amount of time or effort would change that.

  Sorrow filled Zhao Li’s heart and mind; she couldn’t help it, and that was because she didn’t understand. After all, she was only six years old, soon to be seven…but that didn’t matter.

  What mattered to her was a yearning to belong somewhere, to have friends, but the Snow Rabbit Village wasn’t that place for her… but it was certainly better than the Purple Mist Valley.

  The Purple Mist Village had been her home once, a place where the air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers and the sound of laughter echoed through the streets. It had been harder than she knew; compared to Snow Rabbit Village, the difference between the villages was like day and night.

  There was a silent oppression in the Purple Mist Valley, while here, in the Snow Rabbit Village…it felt hollow, oblivious to something…something she didn’t understand.

  She made her way to the well at the center of the village, the bucket swinging at her side. The well was old, its stone rim worn smooth. The water it drew was cold and clear. Zhao Li lowered the bucket, the rope rough against her palms, and listened to the faint splash as it hit the surface below.

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  Zhao Li hauled the bucket up, her arms straining under the weight, and poured the water into a larger container she had brought with her. She repeated the process twice more until she had enough water for the day’s chores. As she worked, she caught snippets of conversation from the villagers passing by.

  “Did you hear about the bandits near the border?” a man asked, his voice low and urgent.

  “Aye,” another replied. “They say they’ve been raiding caravans. We best be on our guard.”

  As Zhao Li’s grip tightened on the bucket, she frowned. Bandits were uncommon in the Purple Mist Valley, but here, in the Snow Rabbit Village, it was an ever-present threat. That was all the villagers worry about.

  she thought ruefully. The last time bandits arrived, she dispatched them as though they were fleas on a dog's coat, but now that she wasn’t here, worry filled her mind. She shook her head, pushing the thought aside. There was no point in worrying about things she couldn’t control. She had enough to deal with as it was.

  Zhao Li made her way to Elder Han’s cottage. The elder’s home was one of the largest in the village, a sturdy structure of wood and stone that stood at the edge of the Jade Dragon Forest. Smoke curled from the chimney, and the smell of porridge wafted through the air.

  She knocked on the door, the sound echoing in the quiet morning. “Come in,” Elder Han’s voice called out from within.

  Zhao Li pushed the door open and stepped inside. The cottage was warm and dimly lit, the fire in the hearth casting flickering shadows on the walls. Elder Han sat at the table, a bowl of porridge in front of him, his weathered face creased in a frown as he studied a scroll. He looked up as Zhao Li entered, his dark eyes sharp and assessing. “You’re late,” he said, his tone mild but with an edge of reproach.

  “I’m sorry, Elder Han,” Zhao Li replied, bowing her head. “I had to fetch water.”

  Elder Han grunted, then turned to her. He held a somber smile and looked at her. As Zhao Li stood there, she could feel his annoyance flare as he kissed his teeth.

  After staring at her blankly for two minutes, he finally shook his head. “Don’t let it happen again. The day’s work won’t wait for you, alright?”

  “Yes, Elder Han.”

  He gestured to the pot of porridge on the hearth. “Help yourself. Then you can start on the chores.”

  “I’ve already eaten. Lady Susu left soup for me.”

  “Oh... I see.”

  He continued to eat his porridge; then he turned back to Zhao Li. “How are you settling in?”

  “Fine, Elder Han.”

  “Just fine?” he asked, raising his eyebrow.

  “Yes. The villagers are…kind.”

  Elder Han snorted. “Kind, are they? You don’t have to lie to me, girl. I know how they treat you.”

  Zhao Li looked down at her bowl, her cheeks burning. “It’s not their fault. I’m… different.”

  “Different,” Elder Han repeated, his tone thoughtful. “Yes, you are. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve respect.”

  Zhao Li didn’t know what to say to that, so she stayed silent. Elder Han watched her for a moment longer, then returned to his porridge. Once he was finished, he gravitated toward the scroll lying on his table.

  “What are my chores for today, Elder?”

  He glanced up, his eyes narrowing as he considered her. “The fields need weeding. And the fence by the forest needs mending. You can start with that.”

  “Yes, Elder Han.” She said with a nod. She turned to leave, but his voice stopped her. “Zhao Li.”

  She looked back. “Yes?”

  Elder Han’s expression was serious, his eyes piercing. “Don’t let it bother you. It won’t always be like this. Just do your chores and everyone will warm up to you.”

  “Thank you, Elder Han. I will remember your words.”

  “Good,” Elder Han said with a nod, then returned to his scroll, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

  As Zhao Li left the cottage, her mind was buzzing with his words. She wasn’t sure if she believed them, but they gave her a small measure of comfort nonetheless.

  The village was wide awake and bustling with activity. Zhao Li made her way to the fields, her tools slung over her shoulder. The villagers she passed greeted her with polite nods, but their eyes slid away quickly, as if they were afraid to look at her too long. She kept her head high, refusing to let their indifference bother her. She had work to do.

  The fields stretched out before her, rows of crops swaying gently in the breeze. Zhao Li set to work, her hands moving automatically as she pulled weeds and checked the soil. The work was hard and monotonous, but it gave her time to think. Her mind drifted back to the Purple Mist Village, her ‘mother’ would want her cleaning the pig sties, a chore she despised, but it was the only chore she had.

  As the sun climbed higher in the sky, Zhao Li’s thoughts turned to Susu. The woman had taken her from the valley and brought her here. Despite her kindness, Zhao Li couldn’t shake the feeling that she was a burden to her, but then she would always remember how genuine her smile was. , she thought.

  When she finished weeding the fields, the sun was high overhead, and Zhao Li’s back ached from hours of bending and lifting. She straightened, wiping the sweat from her brow, and surveyed her work.

  The fields looked better, the crops free from the choking weeds, but the satisfaction of a job well done was fleeting. There was still more to do.

  She then made her way to the fence by the forest, her tools clinking softly as she walked. The fence was old and weathered, the wood cracked and splintered in places. Zhao Li set to work; she removed all the broken boards and tossed them in a pile for someone to collect at a later time to use for firewood.

  The Jade Dragon Forest loomed in front of her, its shadows deep and impenetrable, but she paid it no mind. She had grown used to its presence, its silence a constant reminder of the world beyond the village.

  As she worked, Zhao Li’s thoughts turned to the future. She didn’t know what lay ahead, but she couldn’t wait to start her training with Lady Susu. She relished the day she would be a martial artist. She hated that she couldn’t protect herself from her stepmother's bullying…if she had the strength, she wouldn’t dare treat her like that!

  As the sun began to set, Zhao Li straightened, her muscles protesting the movement, and surveyed her work. The fence had boards missing, but it looked neat. New boards just had to replace the old ones, and that wasn’t work she needed to indulge in.

  As the villagers began to retreat to their homes, their voices fading as the day came to an end, Zhao Li returned her tools to the shed and made her way back home.

  She pushed the door open, the hinges creaking as she stepped inside. The warmth of the hearth greeted her, the fire crackling gently as its light danced across the room. There, standing over the stove, was Ban Susu.

  Susu held a graceful frame clad in simple fatigues; the rough fabric was a stark departure from her usual regal attire. Her dark, wheat-like complexion glowed in the firelight, and her sharp, almond-shaped eyes were focused on the pot simmering above the flames.

  Zhao Li paused, struck by the unfamiliar sight. Susu’s elegance was undeniable, even in such practical clothing, but the change made her seem more approachable, more human. It was a rare glimpse of vulnerability, and Zhao Li couldn’t help but feel a sense of kinship as she watched her mentor stir the pot with quiet precision.

  The scent of herbs and stew filled the air, wrapping around Zhao Li like a comforting embrace, and for a moment, the weight of the day seemed to lift. Susu turned to her and smiled gently, a genuine smile as usual. “Li’er, long day?” Susu asked, her voice gentle.

  Zhao Li nodded and sat in the chair closest to her. Susu wandered over and slid a bowl in front of her. “Yes… long day; thank you.”

  Susu studied her for a moment, her eyes soft with understanding. “Don’t let Elder Han work you too hard; if you have a problem. Let me know, and I’ll speak to him.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “I understand, but Elder Han treats me well.”

  “…and the other villagers?”

  “Distant, still.”

  “Fools. The lotta them,” Susu said grimly. Susu turned her head to the pot and sighed. A few seconds passed and she turned back to Zhao Li. “You don’t plan to eat?”

  “Of course!”

  Zhao Li began to eat, feeling the weight of the day settling over her; the exhaustion seeped into her bones. But beneath the weariness, there was a flicker of determination, a quiet resolve that refused to be extinguished.

  She would endure. She had to.