Zhao Min

  Zhao Min sat on the edge of a wooden bench under a large tree's spreading canopy. The ancient tree marked the boundary between the Eastern Quarter's dusty streets and the Central Quarter's cleaner pathways.

  "Health Renewal Soup. What a weird name," she mused.

  The bench creaked beneath her as she shifted her weight. Her fingers tapped against the warm ceramic bowl.

  Every quarter had its own claim to importance. The merchants in Central Quarter insisted the city truly began at their doorsteps, while the craftsmen in the Northern Quarter said the same.

  The city's heart always belonged with common people. People like Lin Fan, who worked with honest hands and fed others. During her afternoon patrol, she had watched him serve an elderly woman for just one copper; practically charity for his humble stall. She understood how these families lived, counting every coin carefully to ensure food for the evening meal.

  She sighed and took her first bite. The vibrant taste of the soup and rice instantly spread through her stomach, releasing a warmth she hadn't experienced before. The soup carried subtle hints of ginger and scallion that danced across her tongue.

  "What is this?" She raised the bowl to her lips and gulped a mouthful of soup. The liquid slid down her throat, leaving a trail of comfort behind it.

  When she purchased it, she had expected it would taste like ordinary water, but wanted to encourage the young cook whose food people had been discussing. Now she realized how right she had been to stop.

  People should be talking about this soup. The flavors blended perfectly, simple ingredients transformed into something extraordinary.

  Stranger still, tiny golden motes swirled within the broth, visible only to trained eyes. Qi. Cultivation energy where none should exist.

  Zhao Min snapped to attention, senses sharpening. Seven years of Academy training hadn't been wasted. The soup contained deliberate spiritual infusion, carefully balanced and controlled.

  Not what she'd expect from a Lower Quarter stall.

  Was he a qi cultivator?

  She wanted to go back and check, but her duty came first. Always.

  She finished the soup and continued her patrol, each step measured and purposeful. The familiar weight of her saber tapped against her thigh as she scanned doorways, rooflines, and shadows. The security relied on her, and she took her job seriously. Seventeen months in this district had taught her every hidden corner, every potential ambush point.

  "Guard Min!" A toothless vegetable seller waved from her stoop. "Any news about my neighbor's chickens?"

  "Checking the markets daily, Auntie Liu." Zhao Min maintained her stride. "Thieves always make mistakes. I will find him, or her. Don't worry."

  Around her, fragments of conversation drifted like scattered leaves as she walked through the other Eastern Quarter streets.

  "...that cook at Sunrise Servings..." "...couldn't lift my arm yesterday, but after his soup..." "...worth twice what he charges..."

  The third such mention today. Throughout her patrol route, ordinary citizens spoke of the food stall with unusual enthusiasm. Minor physical improvements, easily dismissed as imagination, yet reported with increasing frequency.

  A security concern? Perhaps.

  The soup's warmth still lingered in her core when memory struck with unexpected force; herself at seven, huddled with her brothers during a village storm. Parents away, leaving her responsible. She'd prepared simple rice porridge over their small fire. "Eat this," she'd told them. "It will keep you warm until Father returns." Her brother had accepted and ate the bad food she made that day because he trusted in her.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  That moment had shaped her future. The seed from which her path to the City Guard had grown.

  Zhao Min halted mid-stride. How could common soup unlock such specific memory? What kind of cultivation technique manifested through cooking?

  The remaining streets on her patrol suddenly seemed unimportant. Marketplace thefts and boundary disputes could wait until tomorrow.

  She turned abruptly, startling a passing merchant. Security wasn't just about catching criminals. Understanding unusual events was part of her job too.

  Evening shadows lengthened as she approached Sunrise Servings again. Lin Fan worked in the fading light, his back to the street as he performed his closing routine. Unlike others she had seen, Lin Fan seemed excited about his mundane work.

  One should be excited about their work. Even if it meant sweating in the worst heat the weather could bring. Only those who loved their work deserved the attention she gave him.

  From her vantage point, Zhao Min observed with professional appreciation. His movements followed precise patterns—each tool cleaned, dried, and placed in designated positions. Waters discarded in sequence, not mixed. Surfaces wiped three times, each pass with different cloths. The discipline of a soldier in the body of a cook.

  A flicker of green caught her attention, something small slithering across the counter before disappearing behind a jar.

  She moved forward with silent efficiency. "Animals are prohibited in food preparation areas," she said.

  Lin Fan turned sharply, tension registering in his shoulders before recognition dawned. "Guard Min." He smiled at her.

  "I saw a snake." Her tone remained neutral, though softer than regulations demanded.

  Lin Fan's gaze flickered to where the creature had vanished. No denial. Interesting.

  "It appeared yesterday. It helps me to identify spoiled ingredients, and it's harmless and doesn't touch a single ingredient." He shrugged. "I've tried sending it away but he keeps returning."

  If she went by her rules, it would be a textbook violation. Standard procedure: report, fine, possible closure pending inspection.

  But Zhao Min studied his workspace, cleaner than many Central Quarter establishments. Organized with military precision despite humble materials. The pride of a craftsman in a district where mere survival typically trumped excellence.

  The Lower East Quarter offered few genuine comforts. Even fewer sources of pride. If she closed this, where would she get the qi infused food?

  "When did you last sanitize your implements?" She circled the stall, inspecting angles most guards wouldn't consider.

  "After each use. Full cleaning morning and night. I take my sanitization seriously, Guard Min," he said without any hesitation, his voice firm like a marksman's bow.

  Zhao Min nodded, her eyes scanning the area. "And the snake's access to prepared food?"

  "None. He has never touched a single ingredient. I do have to offer him some food, but I made a separate bowl for him." Lin Fan pointed at a bowl on the upper rack of his stall.

  Zhao Min made her decision. "Cook Fan, I don't want any complaints. If you maintain the cleanliness and keep the snake away from the food, I will let it slide this time." She paused, staring into his eyes. "But if I receive a complaint..." She let the implication hang.

  "Understood." Relief replaced caution in his eyes. "Thank you."

  "I'd like another serving of that soup." She relaxed her stance slightly, her lips curving into a faint smile.

  "Forgive me, guard Min, but I already sold the last portion." Lin Fan gestured toward his empty pot, genuinely apologetic. "But tomorrow I'll prepare fresh. Better, actually. I've been experimenting with the recipe. You might spot something new and better."

  "Better? How so?" The question escaped before professional distance could prevent it.

  "I don't know, but I will surprise you." His passion for his craft shone through his reserved demeanor. "If your patrol brings you this way again, I'll set aside a portion."

  "My route frequently includes this street," she said calmly, though her heart quickened a little. After joining the guard duty, good food had become a rare luxury for her. She would appreciate having such quality daily.

  Lin Fan bowed slightly, respect without servility. When he straightened, their eyes met briefly. Something passed between them, recognition, awareness, impossible to dismiss.

  "Until tomorrow then, Cook Lin Fan." She turned, then paused. "Few establishments in this district maintain such order. It's... commendable."

  Had she actually complimented him? Unprofessional. Yet his face brightened as if she'd offered the rarest praise.

  "High standards matter everywhere, Guard Min. You will always find such standards in my stall."

  Simple words that revealed complex character.

  As she walked away, Zhao Min found herself already planning tomorrow's patrol. Southern quadrant inspection could wait; Eastern section clearly required more thorough coverage. Purely tactical considerations, naturally.

  Not because a humble cook had awakened her curiosity. Not because his soup carried both qi and memory in perfect balance. Not because, for the first time in months, she actually looked forward to her patrol route.

  Professional interest. Standard procedure. Nothing else.

  Yet as darkness settled over Luminous Jade City, she caught herself wondering what "better" soup might taste like. How improved clarity might feel. What memories stronger warmth might unlock.

  Such thoughts had no place in a guard's discipline. She would investigate anyway.