The terraced farms of Chen Village clung to the mountainside like stubborn moss, their emerald green steps carved into the earth by generations of patient hands. A mountain stream wove its way through the village, its water clear and cold as it tumbled over smooth stones. It was here, after weeks of trudging through dense wilderness, that Chen Yi, OuYang KuiFong, and OuYang MeiEr finally emerged from the forest.

  Chen Yi’s boots crunched against the gravel path leading into the village. He stopped abruptly, his sharp eyes scanning the rooftops and alleys for any sign of trouble. Behind him, KuiFong nearly collided with his back, arms laden with firewood he’d been carrying since breakfast. “Whoa there,” KuiFong muttered, steadying himself. “Next time, warn a guy before you decide to impersonate a statue.”

  Chen Yi didn’t respond. His silence was answer enough.

  MeiEr sighed softly, brushing dirt off her sleeves. “We’re safe for now,” she said, glancing at the villagers who had begun to gather around them. Their faces were curious but not hostile—friendly even. One elderly woman offered a shy smile, holding out a bowl of steaming rice porridge.

  “We’re survivors,” Chen Yi said gruffly when pressed for details. “Our village… razed by bandits.” He left it at that. No one asked further questions. Perhaps they didn’t want to know.

  Life in Chen Village settled into an odd rhythm. Chen Yi quickly established himself as the village hunter, disappearing into the woods each morning and returning with game slung over his shoulder. The villagers marvelled at his skill, though none could ever quite explain how he managed to track animals so silently or why no one ever saw him leave or return.

  KuiFong, meanwhile, became indispensable for heavy labour. Whether it was repairing irrigation ditches or hauling sacks of grain, his strength made tasks seem effortless. On one occasion, while helping rebuild a collapsed retaining wall, he absentmindedly used a flicker of wind magic to lighten the load of a particularly stubborn boulder. The resulting breeze ruffled everyone’s hair, prompting an elderly farmer to mutter about “strange weather these days.” KuiFong grinned sheepishly and blamed it on the altitude.

  MeiEr found her place among the womenfolk, sharing remedies brewed from herbs she gathered during her walks. Her knowledge of healing earned her trust quickly, especially when she cured young Chen Wei’s persistent cough with a poultice made from wild mint and honey. Chen TingTing watched MeiEr work with wide-eyed fascination, peppering her with questions about plants and potions. MeiEr indulged the girl’s curiosity but always steered clear of mentioning magic.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  It wasn’t long before the trio grew close to the Chen siblings. Chen TingTing’s adventurous spirit reminded MeiEr of herself at that age, while Chen Wei’s quiet intelligence intrigued KuiFong. Late at night, under the pretence of teaching them survival skills, the trio began introducing the children to magic.

  “Focus,” MeiEr whispered one evening, crouched beside TingTing in the forest clearing. “Feel the life force within the seed. Imagine it growing.”

  TingTing closed her eyes tightly, brow furrowed in concentration. Slowly, a tiny sprout emerged from the soil—but then something went awry. Instead of stopping, the plant shot upward uncontrollably, its vines wrapping around a nearby tree until it resembled a Christmas decoration gone horribly wrong.

  “Well,” Chen Yi deadpanned from the shadows, where he stood keeping watch. “That’ll teach us to let amateurs play with nature.”

  Chen Wei stifled a laugh, clutching his sides. “Maybe next time we should practice indoors?”

  “Indoors?” KuiFong echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Because nothing says ‘stealthy’ like accidentally flooding the kitchen or blowing the roof off the house.”

  Despite the mishaps, progress came slowly. TingTing learned to conjure small streams of water without soaking everything in sight, while Chen Wei discovered a knack for shaping earth into simple tools. Each lesson ended with hushed admonishments to keep their abilities secret.

  Time passed uneventfully—or as eventfully as possible for three fugitives hiding in plain sight. Days turned into months, and months into a year. The trio became part of the fabric of Chen Village, their presence accepted without question. Yet beneath the surface, a quiet unease lingered. One morning, Chen Yi woke earlier than usual, staring out at the mist-shrouded peaks. Something felt… off.

  “We need to leave,” he announced later that day, his tone leaving no room for argument.

  KuiFong frowned, setting down the axe he’d been using to split wood. “You sure? We’ve been careful.”

  “I’m sure,” Chen Yi replied. “Call it instinct.”

  That night, they gathered the Chen siblings in the same forest clearing where their magical lessons had taken place. The air was thick with unspoken tension.

  “You two have come far,” MeiEr said gently, kneeling to meet Wei’s gaze. “But remember never show anyone what you can do. Practice only when you’re absolutely certain no one is watching.”

  “And if anyone asks,” Chen Yi added, his voice low and serious, “you don’t know anything about magic. Understand?”

  TingTing nodded solemnly, her hand resting protectively on Chen Wei’s shoulder. “We won’t forget.”

  As dawn broke, the trio slipped away from the village, moving like ghosts through the mist. Only TingTing and Wei saw them go, standing side by side at the edge of the fields. Neither waved goodbye; they simply watched until the figures vanished into the trees.

  For a moment, the siblings stood in silence. Then TingTing turned to Wei, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “So,” she said, pulling a stray leaf from her pocket. “Wanna see if I can make this grow?”

  Wei rolled his eyes. “Only if you promise not to destroy another tree.”

  And so, life in Chen Village continued—quiet, peaceful, and just a little bit magical.