In the inky darkness of the eternal ocean, a man lays adrift. Bobbing in the waters, his head barely cresting the waves, he casts his eyes towards the heavens.

  And the heavens look back.

  An eye opens, iridescent blue, and blinks.

  Shang Rou Ren wakes with a start. Abs groan as he bolts upright, his chest heaving as his heart hammers in his ears. Fire crackles, water pops, and the gentle tapping of rare wind provides a backdrop as memories come flooding back.

  The fox... is dead. Ren's injuries...?

  Glancing down, Ren finds that someone has bound his wounds. Bandages—real bandages—cover his torso and wrap tight about his hand. A sniff reveals the faintly bitter scent of medicinal herbs. Judging by the lack of much in the way of blood stains, the bandages are either changed semi-frequently or his wounds have scabbed over. Coagulated, as Mom would say.

  So, then, where is Ren now?

  Four wooden walls and—assuming the hut is built according to the rules of feng shui—a south-facing door encase a small room dominated by a fireplace inset in the floor. Suspended over the lit fireplace is a copper pot with steam rising from within. Smells of a hearty stew fill the air as Ren takes in his surroundings.

  Ren sits on a rolled-out bamboo mat, his legs covered with a blanket of some kind of linen. A peek under the sheet reveals that whoever rescued him likewise dressed him in a pair of thin undershorts. Considering the state his sect robes were in, there is little surprise there.

  Regardless, casting his gaze about the room, Ren's eyes linger on an unstrung bow hanging on the far wall. Covered in scratches and with a well-worn handle, this bow has clearly seen much use.

  Three sheaves of arrows lie on a shelf beneath the bow, each made with a different use in mind. Some arrows bear heads of sharp flint—for hunting larger game—while others have no heads at all, merely ending with a rounded lump of wood used to kill small game without causing too much damage. Shining in the gleam of the flickering fire are broadheads of strong iron, arrows used for fighting. With only a small handful of war arrows on hand, the owner cannot expect to need very many. Whether that speaks to skill or foolishness, Ren cannot be sure.

  Underneath the bow and arrows is a chest with a simple hand axe leaned against its side. Thick gloves suitable for gardening lie stacked atop the chest's hingeless lid, suggesting that the contents of said box are related. Presumably gardening supplies.

  Just as Ren makes that conclusion, the door swings open as a shuffling figure slides inside. An old man with a small wicker basket under arm, he turns as he enters to gently close the door in his wake.

  Presumably Ren's rescuer, the old man freezes as green, bush-topped eyes latch upon Ren's upright form. Firelight gleams off his wrinkle-ridden and very bald head as his lips crack open through the gray-coated beard.

  "You're awake," the old man says as he sets the basket down beside the steaming stew. "How are you feeling?"

  "Like I got hit by a wagon," Ren says with a slight wince, his exhale brushing against broken ribs on the way out.

  The old man hums as he kneels down and presses a liver-spotted hand to Ren's brow, "I would be concerned if you had said anything else, to speak freely. Your wounds should have seen you in the grave. I thought you among the dead when I found you."

  "So you're the one who saved me, then?" Ren asks as, guided by the old man, he lies back down on the mat. The old man nods as he carefully peels away Ren's bandages and examines the wounds they conceal. While his injuries are hidden from sight, the unchanging expression on the old man's face does soothe Ren's fears somewhat. "I would ask for your name so that I might thank you properly."

  The old man tilts his head to the side, a flicker of humor flashing across his face as he considers the question, "You may call me 'Yuanding', as that is what I am."

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  "'Gardener'," Ren repeats to himself as the now-named Yuanding nods.

  "Indeed, the Heavenly Star Sect hired me to care for their Giant Gingko, which I have done for many decades," Yuanding says as he redresses Ren's injuries, replacing bandages and adding further herbal mixtures. "And as for your gratitude," Yuanding eventually says after finishing the treatment of Ren's wounds, "you may keep it for yourself. I am merely acting in accordance with the Guide Star's mandate, there is no need to thank me."

  "To help those in need and those who know it not," Ren replies, recalling the words of the Creed of the Guiding Light. "But even so, I would thank you still."

  Yuanding laughs, "Do you thank the bee for the honey it brings?"

  "No," Ren shakes his head as a glimmer of humor enters his eye and a sly grin curls the corners of his lips, "but perhaps I should start?"

  Yuanding smiles, "a good answer." Eyes drifting over Ren's form, he purses his lips for a moment before asking, "You are a cultivator, are you not?"

  "I..." Ren pauses, the words catching in his throat. He is a cultivator. This is the truth, but... But why does he have such difficulty saying it aloud? Swallowing his words, he answers with a nod.

  Yuanding hums, "I thought that would be the case, given the circumstances I found you in three days ago."

  The circumstances Ren was found in...

  "Three days..." Ren grimaces at the lost time, but shakes his head and turns his mind to more pressing matters, "Did you... What happened to the fox?"

  Yuanding scowls, "I had tried to butcher the thing, but it broke my best knife!" He huffs and shakes his head, jerking a thumb over his shoulder, "I have it hanging in the cellar, should you desire a look at it."

  "Thank you, I will."

  "But, speaking of the fox," Yuanding begins as he sighs, the air in the room turning heavy and thick, "it cursed you with its dying breath, a curse that takes the form of an infection in your hand."

  Ren stares, hand drifting towards his chest, "Is, is there anything that can be done?" He swallows, preparing himself for the worst as Yuanding hesitates.

  "I do not know," Yuanding eventually answers as Ren's shoulders fall, "I have treated the wound as best I can, but I am no trained healer and the curse is far beyond my skills. The most I can do is slow the spread, stopping it for the time being."

  "Do you know of any trained healers?"

  Yuanding nods and Ren stiffens, the corners of his mouth twitching into a cautiously hopeful smile, "I had intended to bring you to the Heavenly Star, but the recent surge of monsters put a stop to that."

  "Monsters?" Ren's eyes widen as he makes to leap to his feet, forcing himself through the pain, only for Yuanding to hurriedly lift his hands in calming motions. "They'll be after the gingko!"

  "They would be," Yuanding says as he refuses to budge, stern green eyes keeping Ren from moving, "were it not for a talisman left by the Disciples of the Heavenly Star, one that keeps the monsters away." At the mention of the Heavenly Star, Ren collapses back to the bamboo mat, a heavy breath escaping his lungs as Yuanding continues. "It has been some time since I last saw any of them. They often come to cultivate beneath the gingko, as I am told it radiates ample amounts of wood qi."

  Ren swallows, staring at the ceiling, "It... It may be a long time before you see any of the Heavenly Star again."

  Yuanding lifts a brow, "And why would you say that?"

  Ren shifts, eyes locking to the fire, as memories play across his mind's eye. "It, the Heavenly Star," he shakes his head, nearly unable to put it to words, "it's gone, destroyed."

  Yuanding stares silently before promptly holding up three fingers, "How many fingers am I holding up?"

  Ren blinks, yanked from the theater of his mind, "T-three?"

  Yuanding scowls, a silent curse upon his lips, "I had hoped you were delusional, but it appears my hopes were misplaced." He sighs, bowing his head, "The Heavenly Star had no shortage of enemies. Tell me, was it one of them who spelled the end?"

  Ren can only shrug and recount the events he witnessed with his own eyes. Yuanding listens quietly, occupying his hands with chopping up and adding the contents of the basket to the stew.

  By the time Ren finishes his story, the stew is ready and he eagerly accepts the food, nearly inhaling it he eats it so fast. Yuanding silently pours him another bowl, which is devoured just as vigorously. He slows down a bit for the third while actually taking his time with the fourth. Yuanding never speaks a word, hardly even touching his own serving of stew.

  Ren frowns, "Are, are you okay?"

  Yuanding shakes his head, tears streaming down his cheeks as he chokes back a sob. He collapses in on himself, beard dragging through the stew, "No," he wheezes through shoulder-wracking sobs, "no, I am not."

  The bowl falls to the floor and Yuanding with it.