Chapter 06: Harvesting Strength

With the promise of baskets and a new task at hand, Yi makes his way towards the temple's gardens, where Brother Zhang, the gardener, spends his days. Despite his age, Brother Zhang is a marvel of vitality and agility, his movements around the gardens a blend of strength and grace. The gardens themselves are a testament to his dedication, lush and thriving, a serene oasis within the temple grounds.
Brother Zhang is immersed in his care for a bed of medicinal herbs as Yi approaches. His hands, seasoned by time, work with a precision and tenderness that only years of nurturing can bestow. The garden itself is a tapestry of vibrant life, a pinnacle of cultivation where every plant is either in full bloom or laden with the fruits of diligent labor. The air is a symphony of scents, led by the citrus fragrance of the towering May Chang tree, its branches reaching skyward at the garden's edge. The garden teems with life; insects buzz, birds sing, and small mammals scurry, all thriving under Brother Zhang’s watchful eye.
Yi’s mind wanders back to his home village, where the farmers' endless struggle against the wildlife, particularly the mischievous foxes, contrasted starkly with the harmony before him. He recalls the relentless chase of crimson against the grey rice paddies, a fox darting through the sprouts, and wonders if such a creature would ever venture into this peaceful enclave.
Brother Zhang greets Yi, his eyes reflecting a keen alertness, a gentle smile gracing his lips. Yi snaps back to the present, returning the greeting.
Yi shares his need for physical preparation for an upcoming journey, one that will demand strength and endurance. "I must carry as much lotus root as possible from the neighboring village," he explains.
Brother Zhang, his gaze sweeping over the lush garden. "Training the body is much like tending a garden," he muses. "It demands patience, effort, and a deep grounding to the earth. Work alongside me here, and you'll find the strength you seek."
Yi's eyes briefly betray a hint of hesitation, surrounded by the garden's bounty. "Thank you, Brother," he responds, eyeing a particularly tempting persimmon. "But I fear the temptation of your garden's rewards might prove too much for me."
Brother Zhang's smile deepens, his eyes crinkling in understanding. "A garden is not grown in a day, and its true gifts are reaped through the discipline of heart, mind, and body. This will be your training ground. And should some fruit happen to fall and spoil, well, I doubt there would be any to notice."
"Join me after your morning meal tomorrow, and we shall begin," Brother Zhang says, plucking the ripe persimmon and offering it to Yi.
--
Exhausted, Yi collapses to the ground, a heavy thud accompanying his surrender to fatigue. His body aches from the day's added exertions, yet his mind races with thoughts of the days ahead. The baskets, the transcription, the garden work (if it could even be called that) – the enormity of it all swirls in his head.
His mind retreats to his sanctuaries within the temple: The Garden, a haven of nature's bounty, now his arena of physical fortitude. The Library, a bastion of knowledge and silence, where the passage of time is marked by dust and ink, and wisdom rests in every scroll.
His thoughts then drift to the journal, untouched today except for the note tucked within. Carrying more seemed to be his new norm; perhaps wearing his bag tomorrow would be prudent, a silent preparation for the increased burdens.
With these reflections on calisthenics and calligraphy still lingering, Yi drifts into a deep, dreamless sleep, the first since his arrival at the temple.