Jiang Chen woke up to a cabbage tied with a red silk ribbon sitting on his doorstep like an overly eager puppy.
He stared at it for a long moment.
The cabbage, as expected, didn't blink. It just sat there. Fresh. Verdant. Judging him.
"…I'm dreaming," Jiang Chen muttered as he shut the door calmly, turned around, and lay back down on his bamboo bed.
Five minutes later, he reopened the door.
The cabbage had multiplied.
There were now three cabbages, each adorned with increasingly elaborate accessories: a jade ornament on one, golden thread tied around another, and the third one… was carved with what looked like a love poem.
He closed the door again.
He considered leaving the sect. Maybe finding a quiet cave to rot in for the next few decades. Failing that, he could always fake his death. Dig a shallow grave, write a letter that said, "Here lies Jiang Chen. Do not dig up. Absolutely no cabbages allowed."
Alas, life wasn't that easy.
A knock came at the door. This time, not from the cabbage.
"Senior Brother Jiang! Please accept my cabbage of sincerity!"
He blinked. "Excuse me?"
"It's locally grown! Fertilized with spirit beast dung and only watered on full moon nights for optimal cultivation!"
The door creaked open ever so slightly, and Jiang Chen peeked through.
A petite inner disciple stood outside with a shy blush and an armful of leafy greens.
There were six more disciples behind her.
All carrying cabbages.
"...Why are you all here?" he asked weakly.
The first disciple gave him a radiant smile. "We were deeply moved by your cabbage haiku. The way you poured emotion into the leaves—"
"I just wanted to eat stir-fry!" Jiang Chen blurted.
She ignored him. "You see, when Junior Sister Umbrella gave you that cabbage bouquet yesterday, we were all inspired. And then that poem—"
"What poem?!"
She reached into her sleeve and produced a delicate scroll. "This one! It's already circulating among all the inner courtyards!"
Jiang Chen snatched it with the speed of a man checking whether his private diary had been leaked.
"In rain's soft whisper, cabbage weeps green solitude—Yet one touch of yours, and spring blooms from its roots."
He stared. "I didn't write this."
"But it was found tied to a cabbage bouquet in your yard!"
"That wasn't me!"
"The calligraphy matches your handwriting."
"That was an accident!"
Her eyes sparkled. "So you do confess there was passion behind it…"
"No, I confess I was trying to write my grocery list while half-asleep!"
"Senior Jiang," another girl whispered reverently, "are we… the cabbage?"
"I'M NOT A POET!"
Too late. Another disciple clutched her chest and sobbed, "He's so humble! Not even willing to admit his own genius!"
Behind them, a senior elder walked past and paused at the scene. His eyes narrowed at the growing pile of cabbages.
Then he muttered under his breath, "So this is the rumored 'Dao of Sentient Vegetation.' Profound…"
Jiang Chen paled.
By noon, the cabbage count had reached 73.
He tried to throw them away discreetly. He really did.
But every time he snuck one into the compost heap, someone caught him and wept over how he was "letting go of unworthy affections with such elegance."
Word traveled fast.
The sect's official gossip sheet—The Weekly Whispering Winds—published a new headline by evening:
Senior Jiang: The Gentle Sage Who Rejects Love Through Composting
It only got worse from there.
By the second day, Jiang Chen woke up to find his cabbage garden replaced with a poetry battlefield.
On one side, Umbrella Girl stood with her signature parasol and a stack of new, lovingly composed haikus.
On the other, the villainess—cold-eyed, black-robed, and exuding dangerous elegance—stood silently beside a single cabbage placed on a jade pedestal.
"This isn't happening," Jiang Chen whispered from the window.
One outer disciple leaned over and whispered excitedly to another, "They're battling to win his heart through leafy verse."
The other nodded solemnly. "I heard whoever loses will shave their head and become a cabbage monk."
He slammed the window shut and screamed into his pillow.
At high noon, a crowd gathered.
"Welcome, cultivators and cabbage connoisseurs!" cried a random sect junior holding a gong. "Today's poetic duel: Miss Umbrella versus Lady Iceblade! The prize—Senior Jiang's ambiguous affection! Let the haikus begin!"
Jiang Chen stormed out, waving his arms like a man trying to swat bees. "Stop! Stop right now! I am NOT a trophy!"
Lady Iceblade, ever composed, handed her scroll to the announcer.
Umbrella Girl simply bowed and smiled.
The announcer cleared his throat and read aloud Lady Iceblade's entry:
"Even winter yields,For cabbage touched by fire.Yet he remains still."
The crowd gasped. Several girls cried.
Even Jiang Chen looked momentarily moved. "…that was kind of good."
Next came Umbrella Girl's haiku:
"Rain falls on green dreams,Your gaze makes seedlings blossom.I stand, leaf in hand."
The crowd fainted.
Someone from the crowd wailed, "I would let her grow cabbage on my heart!"
Jiang Chen muttered, "That's not even biologically possib—"
And then the Sect Master arrived.
In full robes. With elders.
Everyone went silent.
The Sect Master stepped forward, eyes grave. "Jiang Chen… I've come to request something of great importance."
"Please say it's exile," Jiang Chen whispered.
"Would you—" the old man paused dramatically— "honor the sect by founding the Green Heart Pavilion, where disciples may meditate on affection, agriculture, and artistic expression?"
Jiang Chen's eye twitched. "I can't lead anything. I'm a lazy person."
"You are a sage who inspires devotion even in vegetables. Who else could—"
"I just wanted stir-fry."
"Such humility," the elder behind the Sect Master whispered in awe.
A cabbage rolled to Jiang Chen's feet like fate mocking him one last time.
He looked down at it… and sighed.