Unintended Cultivator

Book 2: Chapter 11: The Luo Farm (1)

Sen passed a few hours at the small inn that seemed to pull triple duty as an inn, restaurant, and tavern for the locals. He finally managed to order and eat a hot meal that consisted of dumplings, fried rice, and some form of steamed fish he didn’t recognize. The fish seemed particularly fresh, so Sen concluded that there must be a river or possibly a lake nearby. The villagers and farmers who were in town were particularly cautious of him, possibly because word had spread that he was a cultivator, or maybe just because he was a stranger. After some time freely spending a bit of his coin to purchase wine for everyone, though, tensions eased a bit.

He found one old farmer who seemed starved for company. When Sen expressed an interest in the local area, the old man went on at length about where the best land was, where the best places to fish on the river were, and even what farms to steer clear of, lest Sen find himself accosted by dogs. Sen expressed interest, sometimes genuine, sometimes feigned, and would ask detailed questions. When the time seemed right, Sen asked if there was anything of interest to the west of the village.

The old farmer stroked his thin beard for a few moments before he shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t say so. There’s a few farms out that way, but they’re nothing to boast about.”

Then, to make sure that he covered his ground, Sen asked, “Is there anything dangerous out there? Spirit beasts or the like?”

“Oh, well, I suppose there’s always a chance of spirit beasts on the edge of the forest, but none in particular. Why do you ask?”

The old man wasn’t suspicious, yet, but Sen could see the inklings of it in the back of the farmer’s eyes. He decided to be honest, mostly.

“I’ve been on the road for a time now. I thought I might stay for a day or two before I move on. Explore the area. Maybe buy some fresh produce from the local farms. I’d just don’t want to step into danger because I didn’t think to ask.”

“Oh, that’s wise of you. Wish I’d been that wise in my youth. This leg,” said the farmer, tapping his right leg, “doesn’t work right. I could have avoided it if I’d done like you did and just asked. Not sure you’ll find much to buy, though. Not this early in the season. Planting is all done, but not much to harvest yet.”

Sen let a crestfallen look cross his face. “Well, I can always ask. If there’s nothing to buy, there’s nothing to buy.”

“Oh, sure, there’s no harm in asking. Sometimes people have things ready a bit early.”

Sen glanced out the window and saw that evening was well underway. Excusing himself, Sen went over and asked if there were any rooms to rent. Sen was perplexed when the owner went a little green in the face.

“Forgiveness, honored cultivator. There are no rooms left.”

Sen sighed but nodded. He’d thought that there might not be with Bigan’s family of traders in town. He looked toward the door.

“Is there a place nearby where I might set up camp that won’t cause trouble?”

Sen could see the inn owner’s mind racing before he held up a hand. “If the honored cultivator can be patient but for a short time, I believe arrangements can be made.”

Sen suppressed the desire to tell the man to stop calling him honored cultivator and nodded. “Of course.”

While Sen waited, the inn owner sent a young man out the door at a near sprint. Perhaps twenty minutes later, the boy came back puffing as though his life depended on it. After catching his breath, the boy had a whispered conversation with the inn owner, who sent the boy into the back. A young woman came out and took the inn owner’s place while the man came around.

“If the honored cultivator will accompany me, I will show you the way.”

“Please,” said Sen, waving a hand vaguely at the door.

He pretended not to notice the young woman staring at him with her mouth hanging open. He reasoned that she would probably be embarrassed if she realized he saw her that way. The inn owner kept a steady pace and a steady stream of meaningless chatter about the village and its history. Sen half-listened, just in case the man said something that was actually interesting, but otherwise just made an affirmative noise now and then. The man eventually led Sen up to one of the closer farms, where the farmer, a short, stout man, and his entire family were waiting for them. The whole family offered Sen deep bows. After a brief introduction, the inn owner hurried away.

“Where shall I set up my tent?” Sen asked. “I don’t wish to be in the way of your work in the morning.”

“Tent?” asked the farmer. “No, you must of course stay inside.”

What followed was one of the most aggravatingly polite arguments that Sen had ever engaged in, with him insisting he could stay outside, and the farmer absolutely insisting that the honored cultivator must stay inside. In the end, Sen relented. The argument had spiraled nearly to the level of absurdity by then, and he was mentally tired from the long conversation with the old farmer at the tavern. The family insisted on feeding him, which he tried to take with good humor. The youngest of the children, a small girl with enormous eyes, suddenly piped up with a question.

“Are cultivators bad?”

Sen felt the parents stiffen, and he thought he could smell the fear on them. He ignored them and focused on the girl.

“Some of them are, yes.”

“Are you?”

The mother actually stifled a horrified gasp and reached out to grab the child. Sen was both bemused and a little offended by the action. Did they really think he would hurt a child? Then again, maybe some cultivators would.

Sen just shook his head. “I try not to be.”

The little girl considered him for a moment before she nodded and thrust an almost shapeless stuffed toy at him. “This is Jin-Jin. She’s my dragon.”

“And a fine dragon she is,” said Sen, working very hard not to laugh.

Apparently satisfied that Sen was not about to kill them all for the offenses of a little girl, the family relaxed again. Sen asked to be shown where he’d sleep not too long after, assuming that everyone would be far more comfortable if he was at least out of sight. He wasn’t sure which family members he had displaced, but he was tired enough that he didn’t give it much thought. Sen just stretched out on the bed and was asleep in moments.

***

As he drifted slowly back to consciousness, Sen became aware of a weight on his chest. He cracked an eye open and found the little girl sitting on him, waving her stuffed toy around like it was flying. He was quite certain that the girl’s parents had no idea where she was, or they’d likely have both dropped dead in terror or shame. Sen thought the whole thing was kind of funny.

“Is your dragon protecting my dreams?” he asked.

The little girl looked at him and shook her head. “No. She just likes flying.”

“I see. Did you need something?”

“Mama said it’s time to eat.”

It took Sen a moment to connect the dots. “Oh, so you came to tell me?”

The little girl nodded, her attention mostly back on the dragon toy. “Uh-huh.”

“Well, thank you very much, little sister.”

The little girl giggled before hopping off his chest and scampering away. Sen stayed just long enough to eat something and be polite. He only stopped long enough to give the little girl a bow, which made her giggle.

“Goodbye, little sister. Goodbye, Jin-Jin.”

Then, he was off. Most of him was relieved to be away from the painfully polite family. Although, he was a bit amused by the fact that might actually miss that little girl and her dragon toy a tiny bit. She’d been earnest in her bluntness and equally earnest in her friendliness. Sen had come to discover that earnestness was something in very short supply once people found out he was a cultivator. Free from the obligations of politeness, though, Sen could turn his attention almost fully to that faint tugging inside him. He followed the road into town and, ignoring the curious stares of the villagers, he turned west onto the path that led to those not-very-impressive farms that the old farmer had mentioned. He didn’t have a specific goal in mind, any more than he’d had a specific goal in mind when he’d come east to see the ocean. He was following that same feeling, that sense of a deeper, impossible-to-explain significance, and hoping it took him somewhere that a useful lesson might be learned. This time, he knew better than to assume success, but he did hope.

After a time, the tugging became ever more insistent that he leave the poorly maintained trail. He was still in comparatively tamed lands, but he did loosen his jian in its scabbard just in case. He didn’t relish the idea of recounting a tale to Master Feng where he was mauled by a spirit beast because his jian got stuck. He could just imagine the way that old cultivator would valiantly try to suppress his mirth before giving up and laughing outrageously at Sen’s self-inflicted misfortune. No, that was something Sen could do without. There was nothing malicious in his master’s laughter. The old man had told lots of stories where he came off looking the fool because of bad luck or bad choices. He’d made a point to remind Sen often that being a cultivator didn’t make you immune to human stupidity.

After a while, Sen started to really notice what was growing around him. The field he was in had fallen fallow long ago and was teetering right on the edge of going truly wild again. That meant an interesting mix of wild and more domesticated plants. At first, he just made note of them. After a while, as the density of the useful plants simply overwhelmed him, Sen began to harvest some of them. He remained cognizant that he was on someone else’s land, so he harvested sparingly. If there was only one of something, he left it, which proved painful on a few occasions. If there was a lot of something, he only took a small fraction. He became so engrossed in the process that he forgot about the tugging. He even forgot to pay attention to what was around him.

“Those aren’t yours to take,” said a woman from behind him.

Sen froze in place for a moment. The woman sounded young, maybe even as young as him, whoever she was. Resolving not to frighten the woman, he stood very slowly and with his hands out in the open. He thought hard about what to say before he said it.

“I’m not here to steal from you,” he said. “I’ll pay for everything I’ve harvested.”

“Oh, you’ll pay will you,” the woman said, and Sen could hear the sneer of disbelief in her voice. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Tired of having a conversation where he couldn’t see the other person, Sen calmly turned around. As he did, he summoned a bit of silver from his storage ring. He didn’t know it was enough, but he suspected the gesture would mean more than the amount at this point. He’d been right, the woman was young, though not quite as young as Sen had imagined. She looked like she might be a few years older than he was. At that age, he thought, she’s probably married to the farmer who owns the place. Still, she was here and he wasn’t, so he held out the hand with the silver in it.

“As promised,” he said. “Not a thief.”

Sen had been so busy noting down clinical details, that he hadn’t really been gauging her response. At first, he thought she was just shocked that he’d actually produced money to pay her. Except, she wasn’t staring at the money. She was staring at him. It was becoming such a common occurrence that Sen was giving serious consideration to giving himself a nice scar on his face.

“What farm is this?” he asked, hoping to jar the woman back into talking.

She blinked a few times like she was coming out of a trance. “What?”

“What farm is this?” he repeated.

“My family’s farm,” she answered, before amending that when it clearly meant nothing to Sen. “The Luo farm.”

“Then, here,” he said, pushing the hand with the money a little closer to her. “My payment to the Luo farm.”

The girl’s eyes moved to his hand. Her head cocked to one side as if she didn’t really understand what she was seeing.

“Wait,” she said. “That’s actual money. You were serious?”