The pond was small.
A natural basin of clear mountain water fed by a spring that trickled from a crack in the eastern ridge, hidden behind Suyin's hut where the village ended and the wilderness began. The villagers used it for washing clothes and watering livestock. No one bathed there — not openly, not in this village where the untouchable woman was shunned from every common resource.
But this morning, the pond belonged to her.
Dawn light filtered through the trees, golden shafts cutting through the morning mist, illuminating the water's surface in rippling patterns of amber and white. The air was cool, carrying the scent of wet earth and wildflowers and the faint, electric tang of divine qi.
Suyin sat on Tianlong's lap.
