Jiang Chen woke up to a flag flapping in the breeze.
It wasn't the sect flag.
It wasn't even a disciple's training banner.
No, it was his face.Surrounded by cabbages.With heroic rays of light bursting behind him like he was the divine protector of coleslaw.
He blinked. Sat up. Blinked again.
"…Did I die in my sleep and reincarnate as propaganda?"
There, just beyond the cabbage field, outer sect disciples were gathered in rows. A boy with his hair tied into a palm tree bun held the flag aloft with trembling arms, his voice cracking as he shouted, "LONG LIVE THE CABBAGE SAGE! PROTECTOR OF THE MEEK! WEEDING MASTER! TURNIP TAMER!"
The crowd responded as one: "MAY HIS ROOTS RUN DEEP!"
Jiang Chen's right eye twitched so violently it nearly blinked off his face.
"Lin. Wuyue," he muttered, dragging himself out of bed. "I swear if you commissioned war flags again, I'm putting pickles in your tea."
Lin Wuyue, as it turned out, was not to blame this time.
This time, it was fanboys.
Specifically, the Disciplinary Hall interns—a group of low-ranking, overzealous boys who had stumbled upon Jiang Chen's old weeding journal during a "clean-up mission" in the archives. It included not only detailed diagrams, but poetic commentary such as:
"The weed does not resist with strength, but submission—therein lies the method of removal."– Master Jiang, Page 14, Notes on Crabgrass Resistance
To them, it was scripture.
By the time Jiang Chen found the group, they were kneeling in a circle around his hoe. One was crying softly. Another wore a cabbage leaf as a hat.
"STOP!" he cried.
They turned as one, tears shining in their eyes.
"Senior Jiang," one whispered reverently. "You honor us with your presence."
"I woke up to my face on a battle flag."
"It's not a battle flag! It's a morale banner."
Jiang Chen glared. "What war are you fighting that needs morale?"
"The war… against invasive weeds," one said solemnly.
He almost screamed. Almost. But then Lin Wuyue appeared behind him, holding a steaming teacup and wearing an expression equal parts smug and innocent.
"Oh? Morale banners now? And here I was thinking the mural was dramatic."
"You encouraged it!"
"I merely said you inspired people. That's not my fault." She sipped her tea. "Besides, you did tell me that crabgrass could be a metaphor for life."
"I was delirious from mulberry pollen!"
"I thought it was profound."
Jiang Chen groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Why does everything I touch turn into a movement?! I just wanted peace! To grow vegetables and live quietly!"
Wuyue leaned closer. "Maybe the universe is telling you something."
He peeked through his fingers. "That I should flee into the mountains and live as a hermit?"
"That you're actually kind of amazing." Her voice softened. "Even if you don't want it, you're making the world around you better. And that… makes people fall for you."
He blinked.
Wait.
Was that a confession?
Or was that just Lin Wuyue being poetic again?
His brain tried to connect the dots but instead circled back to the fact that he'd woken up under a cabbage flag with his own face on it.
"…I'm still mad about the banner."
"I didn't make the banner."
"But you smiled at the banner."
"That's because your expression in it is ridiculous."
"What?!"
"You look like you're about to transcend into the Spirit Realm of Salad."
He tried to argue, but she was already walking away, laughing.
Later that day, things got worse.
As they often did.
A loud boom echoed through the sect. Jiang Chen, mid-cabbage-trimming, looked up to see a massive flying sword descending from the skies, trailing golden light and humming with imperial spiritual energy.
"Oh, not again," he whispered.
It landed gently, hovering just above the cabbage field.
A scroll unfurled from its hilt.
To the Esteemed Jiang Chen, Cabbage Sage, Sect Innovator and Cultural Hero,
The Imperial Bureau of Martial Spirit and Artistic Interpretation has declared your likeness an inspiration to the people.
Your visage and associated cabbage emblem will henceforth be used in military morale exercises.
This includes, but is not limited to:– Training flags– Rally posters– Postage stamps– Embroidered sashes for new recruits– Spirit-themed lunchboxes
Your personal appearance is requested at the capital's Spring Parade of Inspirational Heroes.
Transportation has been arranged.
With utmost respect,Grand Advisor Liu Shuang
P.S. The Empress herself is intrigued by your cabbage haikus. She wishes to meet the poet in person.
Jiang Chen dropped the scroll. Then he dropped the hoe. Then he dropped himself onto the grass, face-down.
He didn't scream this time. He just made a small, muffled noise.
It sounded like "blargh."
Lin Wuyue found him like that ten minutes later.
"You okay?"
"No," he replied from the dirt.
"They're sending a royal envoy. Did you see that?"
"No."
"You have to attend the parade."
"No."
"You're going to be carried through the capital in a golden cabbage float."
"—I'm sorry, WHAT?"
By evening, the entire sect was buzzing. Elders were whispering, sect leaders were panicking, and disciples were lining up to buy cabbage-themed accessories.
The Outer Sect Store sold out of "Kiss-Through-Cabbage" fan pins in ten minutes.
One intern carved Jiang Chen's cabbage face into a watermelon and started charging one spirit stone per viewing.
And Lin Wuyue?
She just sat beside him as he stared blankly into a bucket of turnip soup.
"…You okay now?"
"No."
She poked his cheek. "Want me to go with you?"
"To the capital?"
She nodded.
He turned slowly to face her. "If I say yes, will you stop encouraging the propaganda?"
"No promises," she said with a smile.
He stared at her. Then sighed deeply.
"…Fine. But if I end up in a cabbage costume, I'm blaming you."
"You'll look cute in it."
"I will not!"
"You will," she said, with the most mischievous glint in her eyes.
And just like that, he realized something terrifying.
She wasn't going to let this go.
Not the cabbage fame.Not the parade.Not even the rumors.
Because Lin Wuyue was enjoying this.
And—gods help him—he might be too.
But not the costume. He drew the line at the cabbage costume.
Maybe.