I woke with mud crusted to my cheek and the jade fused to my palm like it had grown roots. The crack in its center had lengthened overnight, a thin black line now forking toward my lifeline. I tried to pry it loose; the stone didn't budge, but a dull throb answered, as if it had opinions.
The frog was gone. Probably smarter than me.
Water moved behind me, lazy and dark. I splashed my face. The cut on my shoulder had scabbed over, but when I touched it, the scab flaked away like dry paint. Fresh skin underneath—pink, raw, but whole. Not normal. Not even close.
Footsteps upstream. Heavy, deliberate. Bandits again? I crouched low, fingers digging into the bank. The jade warmed, almost encouraging.
A shape emerged through the reeds: a girl, maybe fifteen, carrying a woven basket of river greens. Her sleeves were rolled, forearms scarred from knife work or honest labor. She froze when she saw me.
"You're bleeding," she said. Not a question.
"Was." I lifted my shoulder. The skin looked weeks old.
She stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "That pendant—where'd you get it?"
I glanced down. The jade had finally slipped free, resting in my palm like it had decided we'd reached an understanding. The black vein had thickened, curling around the edge.
"Found it," I lied. "Stream gave it up."
"Streams don't give. They take." She set her basket down, pulled a small gourd from her belt. "Drink. You'll cramp if that qi settles wrong."
I hesitated, then took a swig. Bitter, like boiled willow bark. My stomach settled immediately, the throb in my hand easing.
"I'm Lin Feng," I said.
"Xiao Lan." She eyed the jade again. "That thing's marked. Black vein means it's hungry."
"For what?"
"Everything." She picked up her basket. "Come on. My aunt runs an inn upstream. Bandits hit her last week; she could use extra hands."
I followed, jade tucked into my sleeve. The path wound through bamboo, morning light slanting gold between stalks. My bare feet found every pebble, but the pain felt distant, muffled.
At the inn, a low-roofed place with sagging eaves, Xiao Lan's aunt looked us over like we were stray dogs. "One night, boy. You chop wood, you eat."
I nodded. Chopping was easy. The axe was heavy, but my arms didn't tire. Each swing sent a ripple through the jade, like it was learning the rhythm.
By dusk, I'd stacked enough for a week. Xiao Lan found me in the yard, wiping sweat from my eyes.
"You're not normal," she said. "That qi—it's not yours."
"Feels like it now."
She snorted. "Give it time. Hunger grows."
Inside, over a bowl of thin rice porridge, her aunt muttered about the bandits returning. "They took our savings, roughed up Old Zhang. Said something about a 'devourer' in the hills."
My spoon paused halfway to my mouth. The jade pulsed once, warm against my thigh.
Xiao Lan kicked me under the table. "Don't look guilty."
"I'm not."
"Liar."
That night, I slept in the stables. Hay scratched my neck, but the jade's warmth kept the chill away. Dreams came: black veins spreading up my arm, the bandit's qi twisting inside me like smoke. I woke gasping, hand clamped over the pendant.
Outside, the stream whispered. Not wind—words? No, just water. But it sounded like a warning.
I slipped out before dawn. Xiao Lan was waiting by the gate, basket empty now.
"Leaving?" she asked.
"Bandits might come back."
"They will." She tossed me a small knife, handle worn smooth. "For the next time you 'find' something."
I caught it. "Thanks."
"Don't thank me yet." She glanced at my sleeve, where the jade bulged. "That thing's going to ask more from you than wood-chopping."
I walked back toward the stream. The black vein had reached my wrist now, faint but visible under the skin. It didn't hurt. If anything, it felt like a reminder.
The frog was there again, perched on the same rock. It croaked once, then hopped into the water and vanished.
I knelt, let the stream run over my hands. Clean. Cold. The jade drank it in—tiny ripples disappearing into the crack.
Behind me, footsteps. Not bandits this time. Xiao Lan, breathing steady.
"Changed my mind," she said. "Alone's no good in Jianghu."
I stood. The jade pulsed, as if approving.
"Then let's walk," I said.
We did.