Will This One Do

Li Wei stands still, his gaze shifting around the village. He notes the closed doors, the shuttered windows, and the absence of villagers in the streets. The tranquillity of village life is disrupted, replaced by an atmosphere of apprehension and dread.

Li Wei and the group stand still in the village, their presence like a dark cloud over the once-peaceful settlement. The air is thick with unease, the villagers' apprehension palpable even in their absence from the streets.

As the middle-aged villager reappears, Li Wei's attention sharpens, noting the details of the scene unfolding before him. The man approaches with a determined stride, guiding three horses by their reins. Each horse moves with graceful ease, their well-groomed coats glistening under the sun and their hooves disturbing the dust beneath them, sending small clouds into the air with every step. The care given to these animals is evident, a sign of respect for the creatures that share their burdens.

Trailing just behind the man is a young boy; his presence is almost shadow-like in comparison to the robust vitality of the horses. The villager's hand is clasped firmly around the scruff of the boy's neck, not cruelly, but with an authority that brooks no argument. While perhaps meant to be guiding, this grip speaks volumes of the boy's current status—less a participant in this transaction and more an item being delivered.

The boy's attire is simple, the fabric worn thin in places, telling stories of use and reuse that are common in village life. His hair, an unkempt cascade of locks, partially obscures his face but cannot hide the wide, clear brown eyes that survey the scene. These eyes flicker with a complex mix of emotions—fear at the uncertainty of his new circumstances, yet a certain curiosity about these strangers whose arrival has altered the course of his day, perhaps even his life.

This curiosity, however, is tinged with a palpable wariness. The boy seems acutely aware of his vulnerability in this moment, caught between the life he knows and the unknown that lies ahead with these cultivators. His slight build, more akin to that of a young sapling than the sturdy oaks represented by the horses, underscores his youth and inexperience.

Li Wei watches this interaction with a detached observation.

As the villager stops before them, releasing his hold on the boy, Li Wei's gaze lingers momentarily on where the man's hand had been. The fabric of the boy's shirt is rumpled, a physical testament to the firmness of the grip. Yet, as the boy straightens, adjusting the fabric with a quick, almost subconscious motion, there's a slight straightening of his posture, a small reclaiming of his autonomy in the face of uncertainty.

Li Wei observes the boy with a detached interest. His gaze lingers on the boy's hesitant steps, the way his hands wring the hem of his shirt, a nervous habit. There's an innocence about him.

The villager faces them; his body bent forward in a deep bow, an act of submission and respect towards the cultivators.

"Masters, I beg of you," he says, voice laced with urgency but carrying a strength born of desperation, "these horses are among the finest our village can offer. Strong, reliable, they've served us well. And the boy, he's quick, ready to serve, to learn. He'll prove loyal to you." His glance fleetingly touches upon the boy before returning to the cultivators.

He pauses, a visible swallow betraying his nerves, before continuing, "Our village, though modest, stands ready to provide more, should it meet your favour. Anything you require, we shall fulfil." His hands come together, fingers intertwining as if to physically bind his words to his will.

"Should there be any specific need, any preference unmet, please, command us. We aim only to rectify any shortfall." His gaze drops, a sign of deference, reflecting the gravity he attributes to this interaction.

Drawing a deep breath for courage, he adds, "Though our means may be humble, what we possess, we offer with generosity. Be it grain, cloth, or manpower, if it finds favour in your eyes. Our plea is for your mercy in these trying times." The heartfelt and sincere plea resonates in the quiet that follows, a testament to the village's readiness to extend itself for the cultivators' satisfaction.

Dao Feng approves at the sight of the horses and the boy. 

Li Wei watches impassively as the villager presents the boy and the horses. Dao Feng turns to him, a question in his gaze. "Will this one do?" he asks, indicating the boy standing hesitantly nearby.

Stepping forward, Li Wei takes a moment to assess the boy. He's young, no more than fifteen, with the look of someone who rarely strayed far from his village. Li Wei's gaze is calculating, his expression giving nothing away.

"This one is fine," he says flatly, his voice betraying no emotion. He's indifferent to the boy's youth or inexperience.

"Thank you, Brother Dao," he adds, his voice still devoid of feeling. He acknowledges 

Li Wei looks at the villager "Give the kid a sack of grain," Li Wei commands, his voice carrying a note of finality.

The villager's response is immediate, a mixture of relief and eagerness to please evident in his voice. "Forgive me, master. You are most understanding. I will bring it right away." He turns swiftly, his movements quickened by the desire to fulfil this new request.

Soon enough, the villager returns, a sack of grain in tow. He approaches with a pace that speaks of his urgency, the weight of the sack seemingly of no consequence. With a gesture that bridges respect and a hint of relief, he passes the sack to the boy, who has been standing silently, observing the exchange.

The boy receives the sack, his arms adjusting to the sudden load. His stance shifts under the weight, a silent testament to his readiness to bear this burden. With the transaction complete, the villager steps back, his gaze lingering on Li Wei, awaiting any further commands or indications of dismissal.

Li Wei briefly shifts to the boy laden with the grain sack.

Li Wei reaches for his sack, a heavy bundle containing his various supplies, without a second thought. He tosses it towards the boy, his movement casual. "Carry this shit and follow from behind," he commands, his tone sharp.

The boy, already precariously balancing the first sack, sees the second one coming. His reaction is immediate but constrained by the weight he already carries. The second sack, thrown with a precision that leaves little room for adjustment, lands against him. The impact forces a stagger, his footing momentarily unsteady as he struggles to accommodate this new load.

His hands, momentarily fumbling, seek to secure a hold on both sacks. The strain is evident in his arms, the muscles visibly tensing as he adjusts his stance to distribute the weight more evenly. His breath catches, a silent testament to the physical challenge, yet he does not complain. Instead, his response is a nod, a non-verbal signal of his acceptance of the task, however daunting it may seem.

Positioning himself a few paces behind the group, the boy has his movements measured, each step calculated to maintain balance. The dual burdens he carries, one of grain and one of supplies, mark him as a utility figure.

Li Wei turns back to the group, ready to continue their journey. The atmosphere in the village remains tense, the silence broken only by the soft shuffling of the boy's feet and the occasional snort of the horses. 

Li Wei stands by as Dao Feng and Lin Yue select their horses, choosing strong, well-groomed mounts. He watches them mount with ease, their experience evident in their confident movements. The other horse, the least impressive of the three, stands off. It's smaller and appears older, its coat lacking the lustre of the others.

Lin Yue glances at the remaining horse, then at Li Wei. "You'll take that one," she says, a slight smirk on her face. "It should be good enough for a bumpkin."

Lin Yue chuckles softly, her eyes scanning the old horse. "Don't expect it to keep up with ours," she adds mockingly.

Li Wei approaches the horse, his expression composed despite the slight. He gently pats the horse's neck, feeling the coarse hair under his palm. The horse shifts slightly, its eyes watching Li Wei warily. He takes the reins, his movements gentle yet firm, and mounts with a practised motion, albeit less gracefully than Dao Feng and Lin Yue.

Settled atop the older horse, Li Wei adjusts to its gait, a slower and more deliberate rhythm than the others. The servants, including the young boy, fall in line behind them, their pace quick to keep up.

As they ride away from the village, the chaotic sounds of the villagers' distress fade, replaced by the more immediate sounds of their travel. The horses' hooves strike the earth, a steady beat that marks their progress. Li Wei's horse plods along, its steps consistent but unhurried.

Li Wei feels a surge of satisfaction, a rare moment of contentment breaking through his stoic demeanour. "Finally, I have a servant," he thinks, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth unseen by the others. "So many fucking menial tasks I'll have him do instead," he plans, already mentally compiling a list of chores and duties he can delegate to the boy.

"Brother Dao is very accommodating to think of me," Li Wei reflects with a rare inward nod of gratitude. This act of consideration marks a point of respect.

"I wish I could say the same for Lin Yue," his inner monologue turns sour, the internal address lacking any respect afforded to Dao Feng. "Fucking bitch," he concludes. 

The path ahead stretches through changing landscapes. Fields roll by, their grasses swaying in the breeze. The sun climbs higher, its warmth soothing against the cool air. They ride over hills and through small clusters of trees, the scenery a shifting backdrop to their journey.

Atop his slower mount, Li Wei follows Dao Feng and Lin Yue. He keeps his horse at a steady pace, ensuring he doesn't lag too far behind. His gaze occasionally drifts to the side, taking in the beauty of the countryside.

Despite the less-than-ideal mount, Li Wei maintains a calm demeanour. He accepts his position in the group without complaint.