The village looked the same.
That was what unsettled Tianlian the most.
Willow Brook leaned and breathed as it always had—old roofs sagging under their own weight, narrow lanes cut between houses that had been repaired too many times to remember their original shape. Smoke drifted lazily from kitchen chimneys. Somewhere, a rooster crowed late, confused about the hour.
Normal.
Too normal.
Tianlian walked through the eastern lane with his hands tucked loosely into his sleeves, head slightly lowered, steps measured. Not slow enough to draw attention. Not fast enough to suggest urgency.
Mei followed close behind him.
Not clinging. Not lagging. Close enough to feel his presence without interfering with his pace.
"You feel it too," she murmured.
He didn't answer immediately.
A breeze passed through the lane, stirring dust that should have settled long ago. It carried no scent—no soil, no smoke, no grass. Empty air.
"Yes," he said at last. "They're being careful."
Her shoulders tensed. "Who?"
"Whoever decided to look twice."
They passed a shuttered shop near the square. Tianlian's fingers brushed the wooden frame as they walked by. The texture told him enough—old grain, softened by years of sun and rain.
And one mark that didn't belong.
He stopped.
Mei halted instantly.
Tianlian crouched, studying the shallow indentation on the frame. Not deep. Not sloppy. Someone had pressed their fingers there deliberately, weight distributed evenly, stance balanced.
Observing.
Not searching.
"Someone stood here," he said quietly. "Within a day."
Mei's breath caught. "A cultivator?"
"Most likely." He straightened. "But not one in a hurry."
They continued toward the village square.
The space opened before them—too open. Stalls stood empty. A cart lay tipped on its side where children usually climbed and played. No laughter. No idle chatter.
Even the birds were gone.
Mei slowed. "Lian'er… this isn't right."
"No," he agreed. "It's polite."
She frowned. "Polite?"
"They cleared the area without making it obvious," he said. "No panic. No warnings. Just absence." He glanced at the surrounding buildings. "This is someone who doesn't want trouble. Yet."
That last word lingered.
Tianlian stepped forward, boots scraping softly against stone.
The air shifted.
Not pressure. Not killing intent.
Attention.
It brushed against his skin like a hand hovering just short of touch.
There.
At the far end of the square.
A figure stood half-shadowed beneath the eaves of a building, posture relaxed, weight centered. Robes simple. Colors muted. Nothing about them demanded notice—and everything about them invited caution.
They weren't hiding.
They were waiting.
Mei's fingers curled into Tianlian's sleeve. "They're looking at us."
"Yes."
"Should we leave?"
Tianlian considered it.
Turning away now would be easy. Safe. Predictable.
And that was the problem.
"No," he said. "That would answer a question they haven't asked yet."
The figure stepped forward.
One step. Smooth. Measured.
Tianlian felt it clearly now—the faint alignment of qi, restrained but ready. Not hostile. Not gentle.
Controlled.
Interesting.
He stepped forward as well, mirroring the distance without closing it too fast. His posture remained loose, shoulders relaxed, gaze calm but alert.
Neither spoke.
Seconds stretched.
The observer tilted their head slightly, eyes narrowing—not in suspicion, but in curiosity.
"…You noticed," the figure said at last.
Their voice was calm. Neutral. Neither young nor old.
"Yes," Tianlian replied. "You weren't trying to hide."
A faint pause.
"Most people don't notice."
"Most people don't walk like they're being tested," Tianlian said lightly.
Mei stiffened beside him.
The figure studied him more closely now—not just his face, but his stance, his breathing, the subtle way his weight shifted with the ground.
"Name," the observer said.
"Tianlian," he answered. "This is Mei."
Another pause.
"Village records say nothing special about you."
"That sounds right," Tianlian said. "Records don't like surprises."
The figure's lips curved—not quite a smile.
"And yet," they said, "the fog did."
Silence settled between them.
Mei swallowed.
Tianlian didn't move.
Finally, the observer stepped back.
"One irregular response," they said. "One deviation. Not enough to act on."
They turned away.
"But enough to remember."
The pressure lifted—not gone, but withdrawn.
When the figure vanished down a side street, the square slowly exhaled. Sounds crept back in. A door opened somewhere. Footsteps echoed faintly in the distance.
Mei let out a shaky breath. "Is it over?"
"For now," Tianlian said.
She looked at him. "What were they?"
He glanced once in the direction the observer had gone, then toward the sky above Willow Brook.
"Someone who checks whether the world is behaving," he said. "And today…"
He smiled faintly.
"…it didn't."
They turned and walked home.
Behind them, unseen and unspoken, a quiet note was added somewhere far beyond the village—
not of danger,
not of threat,
but of something unusual enough to watch again.
And that, Tianlian knew,
was how trouble really began.