Chapter 95 - Ninety-Three: The Keeper, the Gardener, and a Very Badly Behaved Gate

Chapter 95: Chapter Ninety-Three: The Keeper, the Gardener, and a Very Badly Behaved Gate

"Rui’an has returned."

The voice echoed through the sealed passage.

A brief silence followed.

Then the unseen speaker added irritably, "About time. The garden is a mess."

Lin Yue blinked.

Shen Rui blinked.

Lin, who had spent an alarming amount of time living alone in a hidden world, slowly raised one hand.

"I would like to point out that I am not responsible for this one."

"For what?" Lin Yue asked.

"For whatever is about to complain about gardening."

Lumi immediately perked up.

"Does the garden have food?"

Everyone looked at the little creature.

"What?" Lumi protested. "If an ancient guardian has survived for hundreds of years, surely it has learned to grow something delicious."

"Your priorities are remarkably consistent," Aster observed.

"Thank you."

"That was not praise."

"I accept it anyway."

Shen Rui reached for Lin Yue’s hand before stepping toward the passage. His fingers closed around hers with familiar warmth.

"Shall we find out whether my mysterious former self was a gardener?"

Lin Yue tilted her head.

"If you were, I hope you were better at it than you are at remembering where you put your shoes."

"I put them beside the bed."

"Yesterday, you put one beside the bed and the other in the kitchen."

"That was a strategic decision."

"Of course. Perhaps you were planning to walk in two directions at once."

Lin, despite herself, laughed.

Even the tension in the archive seemed to loosen.

Then the broken compass in Lin’s hand turned.

Its needle pointed directly into the sealed passage.

The golden seed on the pedestal glowed in response.

Aster’s projection flickered into view.

"An active route has been detected. The signal appears to be responding to three elements: the golden seed, the broken compass, and Shen Rui’s proximity."

"Can you tell us what is waiting inside?" Lin Yue asked.

"Not with certainty."

"Can you tell us whether it intends to eat us?"

"I have detected no evidence of that."

Lumi raised a tiny claw.

"Can you detect whether it has snacks?"

"I have not attempted to scan for snacks."

"Your research methods are disappointing."

Lin Yue squeezed Shen Rui’s hand.

"Come on, husband. Let’s meet your potential gardening colleagues."

"Potential?"

"I haven’t seen your gardening skills yet."

He leaned closer.

"Should I be worried that you are judging me before we have even entered the garden?"

"You married a woman who judges soil texture by touch and can identify poor drainage from the smell of a courtyard. You should have anticipated this."

"I did."

"And?"

"I still married you."

Lin Yue smiled.

"Excellent decision."

Together, they stepped through the passage.

The corridor beyond the archive was narrower than they had expected.

Its walls were made of pale stone, threaded with thin golden lines that resembled the roots of an ancient tree. Every few steps, a small lamp awakened as they passed, illuminating faded pictures carved into the walls.

The first showed a tree.

The second showed a winding path.

The third depicted several figures carrying baskets of seeds.

And the fourth showed a man standing before a gate while a woman walked away with a small golden light in her hands.

Lin Yue stopped.

The carving was worn, but the man’s posture felt strangely familiar.

He stood with one hand resting on the gate and his other hand extended toward the woman.

Not to stop her.

To leave the way open.

Shen Rui went still beside her.

His expression changed.

For a moment, he seemed to be listening to something far away.

"Rui’an," he whispered.

The golden lines beneath his feet brightened.

A small click sounded inside the wall.

Then another.

A narrow panel slid open, revealing a little brass handle.

Shen Rui stared at it.

"I knew where to stand."

Lin Yue looked at his feet.

"You did."

"I didn’t know why."

"That is less reassuring."

His mouth curved faintly.

"You are supposed to comfort me."

"I am comforting you. I haven’t suggested tying a ribbon around your wrist so you won’t wander off."

"Yet?"

"Yet."

He laughed softly, and the strange tightness in his shoulders eased.

Lin Yue studied the carving again.

"Maybe this is what the archive meant by keeping a path open. Whoever that man was, he wasn’t holding the gate shut. He was making sure someone could return."

Shen Rui looked at her.

"And if I was that man?"

"Then I suppose you have a long history of standing around waiting for women."

"Only one woman matters to me now."

Lin Yue raised an eyebrow.

"That sounded suspiciously smooth."

"I have an excellent wife. I learn quickly."

"Then your first lesson is to keep your promises."

His expression softened.

"I will."

She did not ask whether he meant a promise from a forgotten life or one from their marriage.

Perhaps, for now, it was enough that he meant it.

Shen Rui pulled the brass handle.

The wall opened.

And somewhere beyond it, an extremely annoyed voice shouted, "FINALLY!"

Lumi jumped.

"I like this person already!"

The room beyond the passage was not a grand chamber filled with ancient machinery.

It was a greenhouse.

A very old greenhouse.

Its glass roof stretched beneath the roots of the ancient tree, and pale sunlight filtered through leaves that should not have been able to survive underground. Rows of vegetables grew in carefully arranged beds. Beans climbed wooden frames. Small fruit trees lined the far wall. A narrow irrigation channel carried clear water past a collection of clay pots.

And in the middle of the path stood a scarecrow.

It wore a faded straw hat.

Its coat had three missing buttons.

One sleeve was stuffed with dried leaves, while the other ended in a wooden hand holding a tiny gardening fork.

Its face had been painted onto a round wooden plate.

Two dark buttons served as eyes.

A crooked line of red thread formed its mouth.

The scarecrow stared at the newcomers.

Then it pointed its fork at Shen Rui.

"You."

Shen Rui paused.

"Me?"

"Yes, you! Don’t pretend you don’t know me!"

"I am afraid I don’t."

The scarecrow’s button eyes narrowed.

"Unbelievable."

It turned toward Lin Yue.

"And you. You brought him back without his memories?"

Lin Yue folded her arms.

"I didn’t realize I was responsible for packing them."

"Women these days," the scarecrow muttered.

Lin Yue stared.

Lin burst out laughing.

"Oh, I am absolutely keeping this one."

"You are not keeping me!" the scarecrow snapped. "I am the appointed caretaker of the Last Garden, senior steward of the Return Path, guardian of the seed vault, and the only competent gardener left in this miserable corner of existence!"

It paused.

Then it looked at the vegetables.

"Though the beans have been behaving disgracefully."

Lumi floated closer.

"Are you edible?"

The scarecrow slowly turned its head.

"What?"

"Not you. I mean, do you grow edible things?"

"Of course I grow edible things!"

"Excellent. We can be friends."

"I have no intention of being friends with a creature that looks at every living thing and wonders whether it can be eaten."

Lumi looked offended.

"I do not do that."

Everyone stared at it.

Lumi lowered its head.

"Not every living thing."

The scarecrow sighed so deeply that a little puff of straw escaped its collar.

"My name is Moss. I have been tending this garden for three hundred and twenty-seven years, four months, and—"

It glanced at a small brass clock hanging from a branch.

"—six days. And not one of you has the decency to bring a replacement gardener."

Lin Yue’s eyes widened.

"Three hundred and twenty-seven years?"

"Yes."

"You’ve been alone all this time?"

Moss straightened its crooked hat.

"I have vegetables."

"That isn’t the same as having people."

The scarecrow fell silent.

For the first time, its painted expression seemed less comical.

Then it sniffed.

"Vegetables are considerably less troublesome."

Lin Yue smiled gently.

"Sometimes."

Moss studied her face for a long moment.

Then it looked at Shen Rui.

Its wooden fingers tightened around the gardening fork.

"The Keeper has returned."

Aster’s projection appeared beside them.

"Correction: the archive has recognized an identity fragment associated with Rui’an. This does not establish that Shen Rui and Rui’an are the same individual."

Moss turned toward Aster.

"Machines. Always correcting the parts that don’t need correcting."

"Accuracy is important."

"So is knowing when to stop talking."

Lumi whispered to Lin Yue, "I like Moss even more."

Lin Yue whispered back, "Don’t tell him. His head is already too big."

"I heard that!" Moss barked.

"Good hearing for a scarecrow," Lin Yue replied pleasantly.

Moss made a strangled noise.

"I am going to regret this."

"Probably," Shen Rui said.

For some reason, that made Moss stare at him even harder.

Then the scarecrow lowered its fork.

"You sound like him."

Shen Rui’s smile faded.

"Rui’an?"

"Sometimes."

Moss looked toward the far end of the greenhouse, where a stone gate stood beneath the branches of a tree bearing tiny golden leaves.

"But sounding like someone is not the same as being that person."

Lin Yue glanced at Shen Rui.

There it was again: a clue, not an answer.

She was beginning to suspect the archive had a terrible sense of humor.

Moss led them to the golden-leaved tree.

It was smaller than the ancient tree above the archive, but its trunk was thick and twisted, with roots spreading through the soil like fingers.

Behind it stood a circular stone door.

Three symbols had been carved into its surface.

A seed.

A compass.

And a hand.

Lin Yue immediately recognized the first two.

The third was unfamiliar.

"What does the hand represent?" she asked.

"The choice," Moss replied.

"Whose choice?"

"That’s the problem. Everyone keeps asking whose choice it was."

The scarecrow tapped the stone door with its fork.

"The seed preserves what can grow. The compass points toward what has been lost. The hand decides what to do with both."

Lin Yue considered the symbols.

"So the door doesn’t open just because we have the right objects."

"Correct."

"It also needs a decision."

"Correct."

"What decision?"

Moss looked at Shen Rui.

"That is for the Keeper to decide."

Shen Rui frowned.

"I don’t remember being a keeper."

"You don’t have to remember."

"Then what am I supposed to do?"

"Something sensible, preferably. This garden has suffered enough."

Lin Yue pressed her lips together to hide a smile.

Shen Rui glanced at her.

"Go ahead."

"I haven’t said anything."

"You’re smiling."

"I am allowed to enjoy the moment when an ancient scarecrow criticizes my husband."

Moss raised its fork.

"I am not an ancient scarecrow. I am an ancient caretaker who happens to resemble a scarecrow."

"Of course," Lin Yue said solemnly.

"Thank you."

"Would you like me to make you a proper nameplate?"

Moss stared at her.

Lin Yue’s smile widened.

"Senior Steward Moss. Guardian of the Return Path. Extremely Grumpy Gardener."

Lumi clapped its tiny claws.

"Put that on the gate!"

"I will put all of you in the compost heap!"

"That would be useful," Lin Yue said. "We need more compost for the tomatoes."

Moss made a sound that suggested its three hundred and twenty-seven years of patience had just reached their natural limit.

Shen Rui laughed.

The sound was warm and unguarded.

Then, unexpectedly, he stepped toward the stone door.

He did not place his hand on the symbol.

Instead, he crouched beside a young plant growing at the base of the tree.

One of its leaves had turned yellow. The soil around its roots was dry, and a narrow irrigation channel had become blocked by fallen leaves.

Shen Rui loosened the blockage with his fingers.

Water trickled into the soil.

He checked the plant, adjusted the loose support beside its stem, and pressed the earth gently around its roots.

Lin Yue watched him.

"You know what you’re doing."

"Apparently."

"You once tried to water a cactus every morning."

"That cactus was in distress."

"It was drowning."

"It looked thirsty."

She laughed.

Moss, however, had gone very still.

Shen Rui brushed the soil from his hands.

"I don’t know why I noticed the plant."

"Because you have eyes?" Lin Yue suggested.

"I noticed the water first. Then the roots."

He looked at the little plant.

"It seemed wrong to leave it struggling when I could help."

For several seconds, no one spoke.

Then the golden seed in Lin Yue’s pouch warmed.

The broken compass trembled in Lin’s hand.

A soft light spread from the plant’s roots, traveling through the soil and into the ancient tree.

The stone door gave a deep, resonant hum.

The hand symbol illuminated.

Moss slowly lowered its fork.

"Oh," it whispered.

The door began to open.

Lin Yue stared at the golden light spreading over the stone.

"You told us the Keeper had to make a choice."

"He did."

"But he didn’t choose a memory."

"No."

"He didn’t even choose to open the door."

Moss looked at Shen Rui.

"He chose to care for something that needed him."

The scarecrow’s voice grew quieter.

"That was always the part he understood best."

Shen Rui stood slowly.

A flicker of something crossed his face: not a clear memory, but a feeling of standing beside someone beneath a golden tree, with dirt beneath his fingernails and a promise resting on his tongue.

Then it was gone.

He looked at Lin Yue.

"I don’t know who I was."

She stepped beside him.

"Then we won’t decide that based on a door."

"What if the answer changes everything?"

"Then we will deal with it when we know what the answer is."

"And if I really was Rui’an?"

Lin Yue slipped her fingers between his.

"Then Rui’an had better be grateful you became my husband."

A startled laugh escaped him.

She continued, perfectly serious.

"Because Shen Rui still owes me a new irrigation pump, two repaired shelves, and a proper explanation for why he keeps putting his shoes in strange places."

"I repaired the shelves."

"You repaired one."

"The second shelf was not broken."

"It was leaning."

"Decoratively."

"Shen Rui."

"Yes, my dear wife?"

"Keep talking and you can decorate the compost heap."

Moss let out a loud, wheezing laugh.

It sounded so unexpected that Lumi nearly fell out of the air.

"You two are ridiculous," the scarecrow declared.

"Thank you," Lin Yue replied.

"That was not a compliment!"

"We accept those too."

For the first time in three hundred and twenty-seven years, Moss laughed hard enough for its hat to fall off.

Beyond the stone door lay the Last Garden.

Lin Yue had expected an empty ruin, perhaps a forgotten chamber of broken machines and faded records.

Instead, she found a small settlement tucked inside an enormous cavern.

Stone cottages stood among fruit trees. Narrow paths wound between vegetable beds and herb gardens. A clear stream ran through the center, feeding a pond where silver fish darted beneath lily pads.

There were drying racks filled with herbs, shelves of preserved seeds, and wooden crates marked with dates.

Some of the crops were unfamiliar, but others were ordinary varieties she recognized: beans, squash, millet, onions, medicinal herbs, and several kinds of fruit.

At the center of the settlement stood a low building with a sign above its entrance.

THE RETURN HOUSE.

Lin Yue slowly turned in a circle.

"This isn’t just a garden."

"No," Moss said. "It is the place where the first return path was anchored."

Aster’s projection brightened.

"Scanning the surrounding structures. I detect seed-storage facilities, water-management systems, records of seasonal cultivation, and several inactive communication nodes."

"Communication nodes?" Shen Rui asked.

"Their signals resemble those found in the Heartline network."

Lin Yue looked toward the distant cottages.

"So the Last Garden was connected to Heartline."

"Possibly before the network was formally recorded," Aster replied. "The evidence suggests that it was deliberately excluded from later maps."

"By the Cartographer?"

"Likely. The Cartographer’s records classify this location as a botanical preservation site, not a settlement."

Lin Yue frowned.

"They hid an entire community by calling it a garden?"

Moss lifted its chin.

"People who only look for cities tend to overlook the things that feed them."

Lin Yue looked at the vegetable beds, the irrigation channels, and the old cottages.

A strange warmth filled her chest.

The Golden Space had begun as a place where she could grow food and protect what she had gathered. Later, it had become something larger: a refuge, a workshop, a place where people could build a future together.

The Last Garden had been the same kind of place.

Not a fortress.

Not a throne room.

A place where life could continue while the rest of the world searched for something more impressive.

"That’s why it survived," she murmured.

Moss glanced at her.

"Because it grew vegetables?"

"Because someone remembered that survival isn’t just about preserving records or protecting power. People need somewhere to live. Somewhere to plant, repair, eat, argue, and start again."

Lumi nodded solemnly.

"And somewhere to eat."

"Yes, Lumi."

"Preferably somewhere with buns."

Moss pointed its fork toward a cottage.

"There are preserved grain stores in that building. If you touch them without permission, I will bury you in the onion bed."

Lumi immediately floated toward the cottage.

"I shall ask permission first!"

"That is not what I meant!"

Lin Yue laughed.

Then she noticed something unusual.

Near the far edge of the settlement stood a small wooden table beneath an old pear tree.

A bowl sat on top of it.

Inside the bowl lay several fresh pears.

Not preserved.

Not dried.

Fresh.

Lin Yue approached cautiously.

The fruit had a pale golden skin, with a faint silver crescent near the stem.

Her stomach tightened.

It looked remarkably like the strange pear that had appeared in her Golden Space.

The pear that had called Lumi a thief.

The pear that had shown her the silver-white branch and the life she had never lived.

"Moss," she called.

The scarecrow hurried over, its wooden feet clacking against the path.

"What now?"

"Who put these pears here?"

Moss looked at the bowl.

For the first time since their arrival, the grumpy caretaker appeared genuinely unsettled.

"I didn’t."

"Are they supposed to be here?"

"No."

"Have you seen this kind of fruit before?"

Moss’s button eyes fixed on the silver crescent.

Then it reached out and turned the bowl slightly.

A tiny mark had been carved into the wood beneath it.

A white flower.

Lin Yue recognized the symbol.

The Possibility Weaver.

Shen Rui stepped beside her.

"Has it been here?"

Moss shook its head.

"The Last Garden is hidden from the Cartographer. The return path is protected by the archive. No one should be able to enter without the Keeper’s choice."

Aster scanned the table.

"An anomalous trace is present. It does not match the Cartographer’s signal."

"The Weaver," Lin said quietly.

Lin Yue studied the pears.

The fruit looked harmless. Beautiful, even.

But she remembered the offer the Weaver had made: a perfect world where no one was lost, where every mistake could be undone and every painful choice could be replaced with something better.

She remembered refusing it.

A perfect world that did not allow her to choose was not a gift.

It was another kind of cage.

"Don’t touch them," she said.

Lumi, who had been hovering behind Shen Rui, slowly tucked its claws behind its back.

"I wasn’t going to."

Everyone looked at it.

"I was thinking about it," Lumi admitted.

"Thank you for your honesty," Lin Yue said.

Moss moved between the table and the path.

"Then the Weaver has found a way to leave something here."

"Or someone has brought its message," Aster said. "The evidence is insufficient to determine which."

Shen Rui took Lin Yue’s hand.

"Whatever it wants, we won’t answer without understanding the consequences."

She squeezed his fingers.

"Agreed."

The pears remained perfectly still.

Then one of them rolled gently across the bowl.

It stopped at the edge.

A thin silver line appeared on its surface.

Words formed beneath the skin of the fruit.

THE KEEPER HAS CHOSEN THE GARDEN.

Lin Yue’s heart began to pound.

More words appeared.

NOW ASK HIM WHAT HE CHOSE TO LEAVE BEHIND.

Shen Rui went pale.

A distant bell rang from the Return House.

Once.

Twice.

Then a third time.

Moss turned toward the sound so quickly that its hat nearly fell off again.

"No," it whispered.

Lin Yue looked at it.

"What is it?"

Moss’s wooden fingers tightened around its gardening fork.

"The Return House only rings three times when a lost path has found its destination."

Aster’s projection flickered violently.

"An incoming signal has been detected."

"From where?" Shen Rui asked.

The scarecrow stared at the pears.

"From the other end of the return path."

Lin Yue felt Shen Rui’s grip tighten around her hand.

A voice emerged from the Return House.

It was faint, distorted, and unmistakably human.

"Rui’an?"

Shen Rui stopped breathing.

The voice continued.

"If you can hear me, don’t open the door."

A pause.

Then came a second voice.

Soft.

Calm.

And terribly familiar.

Lin Yue knew that voice.

It belonged to the woman who had offered her a perfect world.

The Possibility Weaver.

"I’m sorry," it said through the signal.

"But someone has already opened it."

Behind them, the golden gate slammed shut.

And from somewhere deep inside the Last Garden, footsteps began approaching.

To be continued...