Jiang Chen awoke to the scent of steamed buns and impending doom.
A warm, fluffy bun sat innocently beside a teacup on the wooden table. Birds chirped. Sunlight streamed in through the window like a calm blessing from the sky. Everything was suspiciously tranquil.
Too tranquil.
Which, for Jiang Chen, meant something had gone terribly, irrevocably off-script.
He eyed the tea warily.
"No weird glow… no strange aura… not even a single ominous hum," he muttered. "It's either finally normal… or it's bait."
He reached for the bun.
BANG BANG BANG!
A knock thundered through the air like a war drum.
"Honored Sage!"
The bun leapt from his hand in fear. Jiang Chen stared after it as it bounced off the table and rolled into a corner with an insulting plop.
"Again?!"
He shot toward the window, half-expecting a squad of sword-wielding madmen or perhaps an overzealous gardener.
Instead, he saw…
Statues.
Rows and rows of statues.
All of himself.
One depicted him weeping heroically into a cabbage patch. Another had him mid-crouch, fingers poised like a philosopher analyzing weeds. One disturbingly accurate piece showed him hugging a rabbit while wearing a solemn expression and... was that sparkles?
"Who," Jiang Chen began, slowly and with great control, "commissioned a statue of me sobbing into a cabbage?"
"I did, Master!" came the far-too-chipper reply.
Yanyan.
Of course.
She poked her head around the shed, proudly brandishing a stone chisel. Her face and robes were dusted with marble powder. "You said that line—'Even cabbages deserve tears'—and I knew I had to capture the raw emotion!"
"I said that while choking on a leaf! I was coughing!"
"It sounded very profound."
"I was dying!"
"But it moved the cultivator apprentices to tears! Elder Goose said—"
"Do not quote the goose to me."
As if summoned, Elder Goose waddled into view, slow and majestic, wings splayed like some kind of feathery bureaucrat who had seen too much.
"Honk," it said gravely.
Jiang Chen squinted at it. "That sounded judgmental."
By the time he got Yanyan to put the chisel away (with the reluctant promise that he'd let her sculpt his 'thinking pose' next week), the tea had gone cold. He drank it anyway.
The real problem?
The system.
It had been quiet lately.
Too quiet.
[Ding!]"Congratulations, Host! You have survived 48 hours without causing a public disaster!"
"…That's an achievement?"
[Reward: Peace Token. Temporarily deters crowds, compliments, and unsolicited dramatic speeches within 5 meters.]
"Make it 50 meters and I might feel hope."
Another message followed:
[Notice: Local cultivator impressions of Host continue to rise. Public image currently classified as: 'Tragic Sage of the Soil'.]
"'Sage of the Soil'?" he muttered. "I stepped in manure yesterday."
[Exactly. Your humility resonates.]
"I'm going to cry."
[System recommends not doing that in public. Another statue may result.]
He downed the last of his cold tea, stood, and opened the door.
Outside knelt three cultivators.
One was burning incense.
The other two were copying verses from a bamboo scroll labeled "The Musings of Master Jiang: Vol. 1."
Jiang Chen blinked.
"You wrote that book?" he asked them.
"No, Great Sage!" said the middle one, bowing. "We compiled your daily quotes and garden-side murmurs! Chapter Seven is dedicated entirely to your silence yesterday morning!"
"I was asleep!"
"Truly inspiring!"
A long silence passed. Jiang Chen looked to the sky and sighed.
"I need a long walk in a direction without statues, stalkers, or sentiment."
He tried the back garden.
Only to find three more people gently meditating around a pile of cabbages.
No talking.
No glowing.
Just… weeping. Quiet, dignified weeping.
"Excuse me," Jiang Chen said gently. "Why are you crying around produce?"
One of them looked up, sniffling.
"It's the purity of it all," she said. "To think, the humble cabbage… the vessel of Master Jiang's enlightenment…"
He turned and walked away without another word.
At the very edge of the grove—past the rabbit shrine, past the field where they were allegedly building a theater to reenact "The Great Weed Pulling of Day Twelve"—Jiang Chen found solace under a bamboo tree.
He sat in peace.
For exactly thirty-two seconds.
"Jiang Chen."
He didn't look up. He knew that voice.
The villainess.
Cool, composed, devastatingly direct. A sharp mind behind sharper eyes. Her presence could quiet a crowd—and, as of lately, inspire way too many awkward dreams for his liking.
She stood holding a cabbage.
Not glowing.
Just… cabbage.
"I have questions," she said flatly.
"I don't have answers," he replied without moving.
"You called me a chaotic luck magnet in your sleep."
"Could've been talking about Elder Goose."
"You also said, 'She's too pretty to be a variable.'"
"…Could've been talking about the cabbage."
She raised an eyebrow.
He groaned and stood up. "Look, if this is about the statues again—"
"No," she said, frowning slightly. "It's about this."
She unrolled a scroll.
On it was a title:"The Cabbage Sutra: Volume One."
His name was on the bottom.
Jiang Chen stared at it for a long time. "Yanyan," he finally said, "is grounded."
"She claims it's an emotional diary based on your philosophies."
"I spent the last week trying to get ants out of my rice. I haven't had a single philosophy."
"She also claims the local poetry club is organizing a cabbage-themed haiku duel in your honor."
"…Why a duel?!"
"Losers have to pluck weeds in silence for seven days."
Jiang Chen stared blankly into the distance.
Then turned to the villainess and said, with utmost sincerity:
"I just wanted peace. Now there's a cabbage-based poetry fight happening under my name."
"I know," she said.
"Do you think I'm the problem?"
She considered this for a moment.
"Yes."
Jiang Chen plopped back under the bamboo tree like a man defeated by vegetables. The villainess—her name was still a mystery, which made things much harder for his paranoia—sat gracefully across from him, cabbage in hand like a symbol of peace or provocation. Honestly, with her, it was hard to tell.
She studied him like one might examine a creature of curious origin. He, meanwhile, studied the cabbage.
"I've done nothing," he muttered. "Absolutely nothing. And yet somehow, I'm now the patron saint of weeding and root vegetables."
"No one said 'saint,'" she replied. "But the Root Cultivation Club did submit a formal request to adopt your weeding stance into their core martial technique."
Jiang Chen rolled onto his side and buried his face in his arm. "I just had back pain."
"Which they interpreted as a spiritual burden from carrying the weight of wisdom."
He groaned. Loudly.
The villainess, still calm, still dangerous, poked at the cabbage in her lap. "So… why are you pretending to be so… normal?"
"I'm not pretending," he said without lifting his head. "I'm trying to be normal. I'm trying to survive. I'm trying not to be targeted, turned into a sect mascot, or die choking on rabbit fur again."
She blinked. "Again?"
"Long story."
"I have time."
"Too bad," he snapped. "Because if I explain myself any further, this cabbage will develop sentience and be appointed the next sect elder."
Her lips twitched. Not quite a smile, but closer than he'd ever seen.
"…You're amusing," she said after a pause.
"That's not a compliment."
"I didn't say it was."
They sat in companionable, slightly chaotic silence for a while.
Then Jiang Chen's head snapped up.
A rustling in the distance.
"Please tell me that's not more statue builders."
The villainess turned her head slightly. "No. Sounds like bamboo. Small feet. Quick steps. Likely female. Probably carrying a tray."
Jiang Chen blinked.
"…You memorized the sound of female footsteps?"
"I was trained in assassination."
"Ah," he said flatly. "Of course you were."
Sure enough, a moment later, a petite figure came skipping around the grove path, tray balanced in her hands.
It was the umbrella girl.
She still carried her signature oil-paper umbrella, this time shading a tray of fresh fruit and honey cakes.
Upon spotting them, her face lit up like someone witnessing their favorite celebrity sitting under a tree.
"Oh no," Jiang Chen whispered. "She found me."
"Ah! Master Jiang!" she called sweetly. "I brought you snacks! You missed breakfast again!"
The villainess raised an eyebrow. "Another disciple?"
"Definitely not a disciple," Jiang Chen said through gritted teeth.
"Senior Sister said you liked peaches, so I picked the ripest ones!" Umbrella Girl said, setting the tray down with a proud little flourish.
The villainess watched her. "She's unusually enthusiastic."
"Too enthusiastic," Jiang Chen muttered. "I'm 99% sure she thinks I'm some tragic wandering master."
"Are you?"
"I'm a cabbage farmer who tripped into destiny."
The villainess chuckled once—low, sharp, and unexpected.
Umbrella Girl was now fussing over the tray like a mother hen. "Would you like some tea? I can go make it! Oh, and I copied more of your quotes from yesterday's nap!"
"…I was snoring."
"They were rhythmic. Like meditative chants!"
"Those weren't—! You know what? Never mind."
Umbrella Girl turned to the villainess and blinked. "Oh! Are you one of Master Jiang's… rivals? Or maybe a childhood fiancée returning from exile?!"
The villainess did not blink.
Jiang Chen blanched. "What kind of novels are you reading?!"
Umbrella Girl gasped. "So you do know each other from childhood!"
The villainess's lips curved. Barely.
Jiang Chen sighed so deeply his soul nearly exited his body. "I hate everything."
By noon, the statue count had reached twenty-seven.
The cabbage-based haiku duel was scheduled for dusk.
And someone—he still didn't know who—had added official-looking plaques to each statue with quotes he'd never said. Things like:
"A weed is just a misunderstood flower."
"Even carrots crave justice."
"The soil remembers."
Yanyan, when questioned, claimed she was only responsible for five of them.
Umbrella Girl had taken over delivering snacks and now distributed copies of The Cabbage Sutra alongside fresh tea.
Jiang Chen was at the edge of a spiral.
And it was made of cabbage.
At this rate, he'd be wearing a leek-themed crown by next week.
"I need an escape plan," he muttered while hiding behind the compost pile.
"I could kill someone," the villainess offered helpfully, sitting cross-legged on a flat rock, polishing her blade.
"No killing," he said quickly.
She sighed. "You're no fun."
Umbrella Girl peeked around the compost heap. "Master Jiang! Did you see? They're naming the new training field after your bunny pose!"
"I wasn't posing! I was sneezing!"
"So majestic…"
Jiang Chen closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
He was surrounded by chaos.
Worshipped for his gardening injuries.
Misquoted in haiku form.
Misunderstood by the very fabric of society.
He exhaled.
"…I give it two days before someone tries to form a sect in my name."
The villainess tapped her chin. "Three. At most."
Umbrella Girl was already drawing a flag on a napkin.
Jiang Chen stared into the sky, dead inside.