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Chun has served the Endlessly Raging Valley for her entire life.
Her parents had been servants, so when they married and had her and her sister, it was only natural for them to instruct their children in the ways of servitude. Chun can cook, clean, read, write, and move through the estate without bothering anyone. She can speak to her betters without once raising her head and is proficient at various tasks of mundane utility.
That is all she knows.
The majesty of the Jade Hall. The orderly silence of the grand kitchen. The hecticness of the training yard. The sun rising over the fields of green. The never-ending song of the Raging Valley. That is Chun’s world, and she is content with it.
Her sister hadn’t been.
“Why should we stay in a place where we fear breathing too loudly?” She asked her one day.
“We are safe here,” Chun replied.
“We are servants,” her sister countered. “We might both be near the Spirit Realm, but we are nothing as long as we stay here! There are places in the outside world where we could live like queens!”
Servitude to the Endlessly Raging Valley is not a permanent position. There was no contract forcing them to remain there. Countless times, her sister tried to convince her to leave, but Chun could never dare do such a thing.
Angry and frustrated, her sister left without her.
For a time, Chun would receive letters from her sister, usually once every two or three months. She would brag to Chun about her many adventures in the outside world. Chun knew her sister was trying to make her regret not leaving with her, but she still looked forward to those letters. Many evenings were spent reading her sister’s tales, marveling at her accounts of the places she visited and the people she met.
Her sister died a mere two years after leaving the Endlessly Raging Valley.
There is no grand story behind it. An unfortunate encounter with the wrong cultivator. An instance of everyday cruelty. That is all it took to end her sister’s travels. That is what the world outside is like. In the Endlessly Raging Valley, Chun might have to keep her head down, but that is the only way for someone like her to continue living.
Is it worth it?
Chun nearly stumbles as she walks up the stairs, and she reminds herself to keep her mind on the task at hand. Her knuckles are white as she grips the tray in her hands, knowing that it must absolutely not be allowed to fall. She was chosen for this task by her fellow servants due to her higher level of cultivation, but what does it matter which shrub is taller? The mighty hurricane will pluck it by the roots all the same.
By the time she reaches the top of the stairs, Chun can barely stand, yet that is still far better than other servants would have fared. Most would have fainted before reaching the halfway point. That Chun’s consciousness remains intact is both her fortune and misfortune.
After all, She is there.
It has been a day since Chun last came here, yet She has not moved. She stands in the same place and in the same position, almost like a statue. She does not look in Chun’s direction. She never does. For someone like Her to acknowledge the existence of someone like Chun is unthinkable.
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No one could have predicted the appearance of the Wandering Wind or the girl she claimed to be her disciple.
The event had been the subject of much gossip in the Endlessly Raging Valley. From the highest Elder to the lowest servant, everyone was talking about it. To say many of the stronger cultivators of the Endlessly Raging Valley were upset by the way the Wandering Wind was commandeering resources would be putting it mildly.
Lady Ding just happens to be the one whose patience ran out first.
Of course, the Wandering Wind has no need to care for such things.
“Tell Lady Ding she will be waiting for a long time,” the Wandering Wind says. A wave of her hand makes the tray of food float up to her. Her slender fingers pick out the strawberries. “You can leave now.”
As soon as the Wandering Wind dismisses her, Chun’s mind returns to her. The task she has just received is not one she is enthused by. Lady Ding’s temper is well known, and being the bearer of bad news has never made a servant well-liked.
However, what is there for a servant to do but to serve?
It is the only way Chun knows how to live.
Resigned, Chun bows her head and turns back, her spirit more at ease with every step that puts distance between her and the Wandering Wind.
“Wait.”
Chuu freezes. She cannot move.
“I have noticed the amount of strawberries keeps increasing. Who is responsible for it?” the Wandering Wind asks.
“This one is, Your Eminence,” she replies automatically. “This servant noticed you always finished the strawberries but left most of the other food untouched, so I asked the kitchen to set aside more strawberries for you.”
“I see,” the Wandering Wind says. “Very well, leave and tell Lady Ding this; a servant is ill-suited to carry the Wind’s words. Come to me, and we shall converse.’”
Chun’s eyes widen.
“You are free to go. Do remember to bring more strawberries next time.”
Chun leaves grateful but knowing her life is worth a bowl of strawberries.
She does not like it.
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