Chapter 16: The Cat That Tried Again

  The morning wind reached the courtyard before Khun Ming finished stirring the dye bath.

  A soft current of air slipped down from the cliff edge and drifted through the bamboo fence, carrying the scent of wet leaves and faint mineral salt from somewhere far below.

  Khun Ming paused with the wooden paddle resting against the side of the pot and leaned slightly closer to the surface of the marigold bath.

  The color had deepened overnight.

  Not dramatically.

  Just enough that the liquid now resembled thin amber tea rather than pale yellow water.

  He nodded slowly.

  “That is much better,” he said aloud to no one in particular, though the golden dog sitting nearby lifted its ears politely as if the comment had been directed toward it.

  “When the petals sit overnight in warm water the pigments settle more naturally, and that helps the dye bath stabilize. The carotenoid compounds inside marigold—especially lutein—do not dissolve aggressively the way some synthetic dyes do, which means patience is far more important than temperature. If a person becomes impatient and starts boiling the bath, the heat will damage the pigment molecules and the resulting cloth will fade quickly, which defeats the entire purpose of dyeing something carefully.”

  The dog blinked once.

  “Yes, I know that explanation was unnecessary,” Khun Ming added, adjusting the paddle and giving the liquid another slow stir. “However, explaining a process aloud helps keep the mind organized.”

  Behind him, inside the cottage, a large tiger slowly opened her eyes.

  Hu Xinyan had spent most of the previous night drifting between pain and uneasy sleep, her mind struggling to understand the quiet insanity of the place she had awakened in.

  Her injuries had improved.

  That alone was remarkable.

  Lightning tribulation wounds were notoriously difficult to treat even for high-level cultivators, yet the crude herbal paste applied by the mortal dyer had reduced the burning sensation significantly.

  Her meridians were still unstable.

  Her cultivation remained suppressed.

  But she was alive.

  And that fact alone made the situation increasingly confusing.

  She slowly lifted her head and watched through the doorway as the mortal man stirred a pot of flowers while calmly discussing pigment stability with a dog.

  Her tail twitched faintly.

  This place was deeply strange.

  Outside, Khun Ming continued talking while adjusting the fire beneath the pot.

  “The real difficulty with marigold dye is not producing yellow,” he explained patiently, as if teaching a class of invisible apprentices. “Anyone can produce yellow by boiling petals long enough, but producing yellow that survives repeated washing is a completely different matter. Color fastness depends on the relationship between the dye molecules and the fiber structure, which is why mordants are necessary. Alum works particularly well with flavonoids because the aluminum ions form coordination bonds with the pigment molecules, and those bonds attach themselves to the cellulose fibers of the cloth. When the system works properly, the color becomes part of the fiber rather than sitting on the surface.”

  The dog wagged its tail slowly.

  “Yes, that is the simplified explanation,” Khun Ming said.

  Inside the cottage, Hu Xinyan stared.

  She had expected a mortal craftsman.

  She had not expected a lecture on dye chemistry.

  She shifted slightly, testing the strength in her legs.

  The result was… encouraging.

  Still painful.

  Still unstable.

  But stronger than the previous day.

  She slowly pushed her front paws against the floor.

  The woven mat shifted beneath her claws.

  Outside, Khun Ming lifted the lid of the tannin pot and sniffed the steam thoughtfully.

  “That is exactly the smell I was hoping for,” he said, smiling faintly. “Pomegranate rind produces a very reliable tannin solution, and tannin is extremely useful for reinforcing yellow dyes because it creates additional bonding sites on the fiber. When tannin binds to cellulose it provides extra anchor points for the pigment molecules, which improves the long-term durability of the color.”

  Inside the cottage, Hu Xinyan carefully lifted herself onto her front legs.

  Her muscles trembled.

  Her injured shoulder protested violently.

  But she remained upright.

  The golden dog noticed immediately.

  Its ears lifted.

  Hu Xinyan froze.

  The dog slowly turned its head toward her.

  Their eyes met.

  Hu Xinyan’s instincts screamed again.

  That creature’s presence was deeper than the ocean.

  The dog tilted its head slightly.

  Then it sat down again.

  Hu Xinyan exhaled slowly.

  Perhaps… it would allow her to stand.

  Outside, Khun Ming stepped away from the dye pot and walked toward the doorway carrying a small bowl of fresh aloe gel.

  He stopped when he saw the tiger sitting upright.

  “Well,” he said thoughtfully, “that is an improvement.”

  Hu Xinyan stared at him.

  Khun Ming crouched beside her and placed the bowl on the floor.

  “You should not try to move too quickly,” he said calmly while examining the burn along her shoulder. “Your nervous system has been severely shocked by lightning, which means your muscles are still recovering from electrical trauma. When electricity passes through a body it interferes with the signals traveling along the nerves, and until those signals stabilize again you will experience weakness and tremors.”

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  Hu Xinyan blinked.

  The explanation was… medically accurate.

  Khun Ming dipped his fingers into the aloe gel and gently spread a new layer across the injured skin.

  “Aloe vera contains several compounds that help reduce inflammation,” he continued conversationally. “The polysaccharides inside the gel create a cooling barrier over the wound surface, which slows the inflammatory response and helps the tissue regenerate more efficiently.”

  Hu Xinyan watched him silently.

  The mortal spoke as if treating lightning injuries were an everyday inconvenience.

  Khun Ming finished applying the gel and leaned back slightly to inspect the result.

  “Yes, that is much better,” he said with quiet satisfaction. “The tissue does not appear infected, and the swelling has decreased significantly since yesterday, which suggests the herbal treatment is working exactly as intended.”

  Hu Xinyan’s ears twitched.

  Then she attempted to stand fully.

  The moment she shifted her weight onto her back legs, her muscles collapsed.

  She fell forward.

  Khun Ming caught her shoulder instinctively.

  “Now, please do not misunderstand my tone,” he said patiently while guiding her back onto the mat, “but that was an extremely unwise decision.”

  Hu Xinyan stared at him.

  Khun Ming sighed and sat down beside her.

  “Recovery is not a competition,” he continued calmly. “You were struck by lightning, which is a very serious event even for creatures with stronger bodies than ordinary animals. If you attempt to walk before your nervous system has stabilized, you will only injure yourself again, and that will prolong the healing process unnecessarily.”

  The dog wagged its tail again.

  “Yes, I am aware that you are supervising,” Khun Ming said without looking up.

  Hu Xinyan blinked slowly.

  This man was lecturing a tiger about rehabilitation like a village physician scolding an impatient patient.

  Khun Ming stood and brushed his hands against his robe.

  “Now,” he said thoughtfully, glancing toward the dye pots in the courtyard, “I still need to finish preparing the next dye bath, which means you should remain here and rest while I continue working.”

  Hu Xinyan watched him walk away.

  The golden dog remained beside her.

  And for the first time since awakening in the cottage, Hu Xinyan felt something dangerously unfamiliar creeping into her thoughts.

  Curiosity.

  Khun Ming returned to the courtyard and resumed stirring the dye bath with the same calm attention he had been giving it before discovering that his patient had attempted physical rebellion.

  The marigold petals moved slowly through the liquid as he rotated the paddle in gentle circles.

  Steam lifted from the surface in soft curls that carried the faint earthy sweetness of warm flowers.

  He leaned over the pot and examined the color again.

  “This is exactly the stage where people usually ruin the bath,” he said thoughtfully while adjusting the firewood beneath the iron pot. “Most beginners see the yellow appearing in the water and immediately assume the work is finished, but that is only the beginning of the extraction process. Pigments inside plant cells do not release themselves instantly, and if the dyer rushes the process the bath becomes weak and uneven.”

  The dog sat beside him.

  Khun Ming glanced down.

  “I realize that you are not taking notes,” he continued, “but speaking through the process helps prevent mistakes.”

  He dipped the paddle again and slowly pressed the floating petals toward the bottom.

  “The marigold pigments belong to a group of compounds known as flavonoids and carotenoids. These compounds are responsible for the yellow and orange coloration of the petals, and they behave differently depending on the chemical environment of the dye bath. If the bath contains only water, the pigments will attach weakly to the cloth and fade after several washes. If the bath contains alum mordant and tannin reinforcement, the pigments bind more strongly to the cellulose fibers and produce color that can survive years of use.”

  The dog wagged its tail once.

  “Yes, that is exactly the improvement we are trying to achieve,” Khun Ming said.

  Inside the cottage, Hu Xinyan listened.

  Her ears twitched slightly.

  She was beginning to realize something very unsettling.

  The mortal dyer was not simply talking to himself.

  He was explaining his work with the patience of a teacher who had spent years refining a craft.

  And the craft itself was… unexpectedly complex.

  She had lived centuries among cultivators who studied sword techniques and spiritual formations.

  Yet she had never heard anyone analyze flowers with such seriousness.

  Hu Xinyan slowly shifted her body again.

  This time she did not attempt to stand immediately.

  Instead she tested each leg one at a time.

  Her front right paw pressed against the mat.

  Stable.

  Her front left paw followed.

  Pain remained in her shoulder, but the strength had improved.

  She inhaled slowly.

  Perhaps she could at least move closer to the doorway.

  The golden dog noticed the movement immediately.

  Its ears lifted.

  Hu Xinyan paused.

  The dog stared at her.

  Not threatening.

  Just aware.

  Hu Xinyan tried again.

  She pushed upward.

  Slowly.

  Carefully.

  This time she managed to stand for several seconds.

  Her back legs trembled.

  But they held.

  The dog watched quietly.

  Hu Xinyan took one step.

  Then another.

  Her injured shoulder protested sharply, but she managed to reach the edge of the doorway.

  Outside, Khun Ming was still stirring the dye pot.

  He had not noticed her yet.

  Hu Xinyan studied him carefully.

  The strange stability in the courtyard felt stronger here.

  The air moved smoothly.

  The spiritual currents were gentle.

  Even the sound of boiling water seemed… harmonious.

  It reminded her of the meditation halls of ancient sects where cultivators cultivated for centuries.

  Yet the man producing this environment was simply stirring a pot of marigold petals.

  Hu Xinyan’s tail flicked slightly.

  She took another step.

  The dog stood.

  Hu Xinyan froze.

  The golden retriever walked forward calmly and positioned itself directly in the doorway.

  Not aggressively.

  But very clearly blocking the path.

  Hu Xinyan stared at it.

  The dog tilted its head slightly.

  Then it wagged its tail.

  The meaning was unmistakable.

  You may stand.

  You may watch.

  You may not leave.

  Hu Xinyan slowly lowered herself back onto the mat.

  Outside, Khun Ming turned around.

  “Oh,” he said when he saw her sitting upright near the doorway.

  “That is much better than yesterday.”

  He carried the paddle to the side of the pot and leaned it against the wall before walking toward the tiger again.

  “I see that you attempted standing again,” he said while crouching beside her. “However, I would strongly recommend that you avoid walking for another day or two because your muscles are still recovering from electrical trauma.”

  Hu Xinyan blinked.

  Khun Ming continued speaking in the same calm tone.

  “When lightning passes through a body it disrupts the normal signaling pathways inside the nervous system, and that disruption causes muscle weakness even if the tissue itself is not permanently damaged. The best treatment in that situation is rest, hydration, and gentle recovery rather than sudden exertion.”

  Hu Xinyan watched him carefully.

  Khun Ming leaned slightly closer to examine the burn again.

  “The aloe gel is working well,” he said thoughtfully. “The swelling has decreased, which suggests that the inflammatory response is stabilizing.”

  Hu Xinyan’s ears twitched.

  Then she produced a low rumbling sound.

  Not a growl.

  A deliberate attempt at communication.

  Khun Ming tilted his head.

  “That sound could mean several things,” he said thoughtfully. “However, based on the circumstances I suspect you are either uncomfortable or curious.”

  Hu Xinyan blinked.

  Khun Ming nodded.

  “Yes, curiosity would be understandable,” he continued. “You are currently in a workshop where I am boiling flowers in order to dye cloth, which probably appears unusual if you are accustomed to hunting deer in the forest.”

  Hu Xinyan stared at him.

  Khun Ming stood and gestured toward the dye pot.

  “Since you are awake and apparently interested, I suppose I can explain what I am doing,” he said.

  The dog wagged its tail again.

  Khun Ming returned to the pot and lifted the paddle once more.

  “You see,” he began while stirring the liquid slowly, “producing stable yellow dye from marigold requires a layered approach rather than a single extraction step. The petals themselves contain the pigment, but pigment alone does not create durable color unless it is properly anchored to the fiber.”

  Hu Xinyan watched him carefully.

  Khun Ming continued speaking.

  “The first layer is scouring the cloth, which removes natural oils and impurities from the fiber so that the dye can penetrate evenly. After that comes the alum mordant bath, which introduces aluminum ions that act as chemical bridges between the dye molecules and the cellulose fibers.”

  He paused briefly and pressed the paddle deeper into the pot.

  “The second layer involves tannin reinforcement,” he said, pointing toward the smaller pot beside the fire. “Tannin molecules attach themselves to the fiber and provide additional bonding sites for the pigment molecules. That means the final color becomes significantly more resistant to washing and sunlight.”

  Hu Xinyan’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  She had expected a simple craft.

  This explanation sounded suspiciously like cultivation theory applied to cloth.

  Khun Ming smiled faintly.

  “Once the cloth has been treated with both alum and tannin, the marigold bath completes the process by introducing the pigment itself. The result is a layered structure where the fiber, mordant, tannin, and pigment all support one another.”

  He lifted the paddle again and inspected the color.

  “Yes,” he said thoughtfully, “this bath should produce a very good yellow.”

  Hu Xinyan stared at the pot.

  The spiritual energy in the courtyard shifted slightly as the cloth moved beneath the liquid.

  The flow felt… organized.

  As if invisible lines were guiding the energy through the space.

  Inside the sword leaning against the wall, the Nine-Tailed Fox spoke quietly.

  “She notices.”

  The Azure Dragon nodded slowly.

  “It would be difficult not to notice.”

  Outside, Khun Ming finished stirring the bath and placed the paddle aside.

  “Well,” he said, turning toward the tiger again, “I believe that concludes the explanation.”

  Hu Xinyan blinked.

  Khun Ming smiled.

  “You probably did not understand any of that, but explaining the process helps me remember the steps.”

  The dog wagged its tail.

  Hu Xinyan lowered her head slowly.

  For the first time since waking, she felt certain of one thing.

  This quiet mortal who believed he was simply dyeing cloth might be the most dangerous person she had ever encountered.

  And he had absolutely no idea.

  Chapter 16 Complete.