Year 658 of the stable Era

Twelfth day of the eighth month

After half a stick of screaming at the sky, Shen finally turned towards Xia Bao, who had used the lull in the conversation as a chance to refill everyone’s waters from the spigot. He stared at his friend, his face now as pale as the tiles in front of them, and just as green around the edges.

“How,” Shen began, his normally controlled composure twitching, “is the one food that you miss the most shrimp fried rice?! THE ONLY THING THAT YOU HAVE BEEN EATING FOR THE LAST 4 MONTHS?!!”

“The variety of it really,” Bao said calmly, taking a sip of his water. “You probably wouldn’t understand, since you only eat it occasionally, but it’s actually quite miserable to eat the same thing every day with no variety. For the first two months I enjoyed experimenting with my recipe. The third month, I was able to truly refine it. But after that…” He paused, a distant look in his eye.

“I realized that I was only enjoying a single shade of what shrimp fried rice could be. Ginger, garlic, pepper, eggs, peas, fish sauce... All those different ingredients that give fried rice its myriad flavors! All outside my reach. Which isn’t even touching upon the difference that different types of rice could have. Or oils…”

“Sometimes, it feels as if I am going insane here, repeating the same action to have no true effect on the flavor, pointlessly wasting my time refining my recipe by infinitesimal degrees, while vast expanses exist to explore. The same taste, eight times a day. Over, and over…”

The table fell silent again as they shuffled the tiles and started the next round. Chao Ren’s hand was nothing too exciting, and for a stick or two the table quietly dealt tiles, the silence only being broken by infrequent calls.

“I liked the rice,” Lee Han suddenly said, brushing an errant lock of orange hair behind his ear. “It tastes nice.”

“It tastes terrible!” Bao shouted. His face briefly reddened before he took a calming sip of his water. “You don’t even understand. Everything about it is terrible. The soy sauce is too salty, the oil too mild, and the rice…”

“What is wrong with the rice?” Chao Ren asked, unable to stop his curiosity.

“It’s short-grain rice. Everyone knows that you never use short-grain rice for fried rice! It just doesn’t fry right! It just sticks together too much, instead of being nice and crispy!”

Chao Ren touched his stomach, realizing that perhaps the lumpy feeling was not entirely due to his nerves. There was something coalescing inside of him, and it was definitely not a Golden Core. Maybe eating that second bowl had been a mistake. They were quite large. How did Xia Bao manage to eat eight of these a day and still remain so slim?

Lee Han interrupted his thought as he declared “Chow.” He claimed the 3-Bamboo that Xia Bao had dropped, leaving himself only one tile away from victory. Ren gave the pool a hard stare as Shen dropped another 3-Bamboo, clearly playing cautious. Most of the Dragons had been discarded, he had the North Wind as his pair, and all he needed was either a 2 or 5-Character tile to finish his hand. He was very close, just so long as he didn’t deal into Lee Han’s wait. He discarded the 9-Character.

“Pung,” Shen declared, reaching for the tile.

“A-ha!” Xia Bao declared, stopping his hand. “That’s my last tile.” He flipped over the rest of his hand, exposing a truly distressing Thirteen Orphans hand. Composed of a single copy of each Dragon, the four Winds, and a 1 and 9 of each suit, it was one of the hardest mahjong hands to assemble, and the only one that broke conventional construction rules.

There had only been one copy of the 9-Character tile left after Lee Han had claimed a triplet of it earlier in the game, so it had been a hellish wait for the sole remaining tile. If this had been a game for points, Ren would be thoroughly devastated to see such a hand.

“Damn!” Lee Han remarked, giving the hand an appreciative look. “I can’t believe you managed that hand. I’ve never seen anyone even try to make it.”

“I had nine of the tiles that I needed for it in my opening hand, so I figured that I might as well take a stab at it,” Bao replied, laughing a little. “After all, what’s the point of life if you don’t take a risk every now and again.”

“The wait was truly commendable,” Shen said, shuffling his half-assembled hand in. “To be able to hold out for a single tile for so long.”

“I just had to hold out and wait,” Bao said. “If I won, it would be a story to tell, and if I lost? I’d simply have to tell another story in turn.”

“Well said,” Ren noted. It was a shame he hadn’t won, but he couldn’t fault Xia Bao for his play. He pushed his assembled wall towards the center of the table again, and after the rest of his companions finished theirs, Shen rolled the dice and the tiles split.

His newest hand was certainly a collection of mahjong tiles. Two sets of connected tiles, and two pairs in the form of the East Wind and the 5-Bamboo. The rest were flotsam, unable to connect with anything else. At least this was the last hand of the round. After he lost, he could just bow out and go back to cultivating. The break had been good. It had been nice to enjoy non-pill food for a meal, and the conversation wasn’t too terrible, but he couldn’t afford to waste too much more time on social niceties while he still had a bottleneck to overcome.

As he pitched a Red Dragon that Lee Han aggressively called, Bao posed his question to the group. “What are you all planning to do once the exam is over? When we’re all full members of the sect.”

Ah yes, Chao Ren thought, rearranging his tiles. All of us. He sighed, discarding the 9-Bamboo tile.

“I plan on joining one of the martial divisions,” Lee Han said, glancing down at his tiles. After a second’s thought, he called.

“Chow,” he said, plucking the tile with an invisible hand as he considered his next discard. “The Lee Clan has always valued strength, and I can prove myself a worthy successor by subjugating threats and discovering spiritual treasures.”

“About what I’d expect from you,” Shen said, discarding a 9-Bamboo.

“I also plan on studying alchemy,” Lee Han said defensively. “The Invisible Hand Technique is a crucial skill for alchemists. I’ve always wanted to be a more self-reliant cultivator, and learning how to make my own pills and elixirs would mean that I could make my own medicine. I want to travel the continent and be able to make full use of whatever I hunt down. To live in the wilderness and survive on my own strength.”

Ren nodded at Lee Han’s declaration. It was a laudable goal. To be able to survive purely off one’s own cultivation, simply following one’s path while relying on no other… A noble pursuit of the pure path of cultivation. He wished that he could be doing that right now, instead of wasting his time with this poor hand.

Well, if it wasn’t going to win regardless, he might as well attempt to fight his fate.

“Pung,” he declared, snatching up the East Wind Bao had just discarded.

“So, what’s your goal?” Bao asked Shen, as he found himself up for discarding a tile.

“I plan on taking my time,” Shen replied, stretching his shoulders. “The path of cultivation is long, so I don’t plan on trying to leap up a realm too quickly. I think I’ll cultivate my body, and perhaps a few peers. My upbringing didn’t allow for much in the way of companionship, and I look forwards to getting to know people in contexts other than banquets, tournaments, and negotiations.”

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He paused a second, considering his next move. “I might study a craft. My father once told me a story about how my grandfather carved a statue of an otter so realistic that it would roam around the kitchen and prepare tea. Learning something like that might be a welcome diversion for a century or two while I discover my dao.”

Chao Ren immediately jumped on his tile. “Chow,” he said, moving one set closer to a win. He’d managed to draw into another full sequence in his hand, so he was only two tiles away from a win. He discarded a West Wind, which uneventfully passed.

“That is remarkably passive,” Lee Han said. “Even if you’ve become a full second stage cultivator already, you can hardly afford to become so distracted from your path.”

“Pung,” Ren called again, picking up the 5-Bamboo tile that Lee Han had discarded. Just one tile away. A single Green Dragon and he had this game.

“It’s not distraction, it’s discovery,” Shen replied. “As they say, the journey is just as important as the destination.”

“But surely some care should be taken with method,” Lee Han replied. “If you fail to ascend…”

“I’ll manage,” Shen said, waving the worry away. “If every step I take is a step in the right direction, then surely I will be following the path of my dao, regardless of how small each might be. Whether it is one walked by my predecessors or one I carve on my own is irrelevant. So long as I remain true to myself, and my conviction does not waver, I will prevail in whatever goal I pursue.”

Ren nodded at these words.

Bailong Shen had appeared to be a sleeping dragon given his generally relaxed disposition, one content to simply rest on the achievements of his family. But with these words, he had dispelled that misconception. He might not have the loud passion of cultivators like Lee Han, who shouted their determination for all to hear, but he had a hardened resolve, one ready to face all the challenges that the path to immortality contained.

It would seem that a dragon was still a dragon, even when at rest.

As the expectation for an answer fell towards him, Chao Ren quickly gathered his thoughts as he idly discarded another useless tile.

“Should I be accepted into the sect, my goal is to cultivate,” he said, catching Xia Bao’s mouth open with his preemptive answer. “I would seek to diligently cultivate my qi to the Golden Core stage as expediently as possible, raising my body and mind cultivation to that same stage soon after. And from there, I would seek to raise myself to the Nascent stage, first in qi, then in mind and body yet again.” He drew a 4-Character tile as he finished, which he tossed into the discard pile, satisfied that he had given sufficient answer.

There was no response from the table as the round returned to him again, so he drew and discarded another 4-Character tile before Lee Han finally spoke.

“But what do you actually want to do?” Lee Han asked incredulously. “We’re all here to cultivate, but what do you want to cultivate in particular?”

“My qi,” Ren replied, confused by the question. “Followed by my mind, and then my body.”

“But why? What’s the reason for your cultivation?” Lee Han pestered. “Surely you have a greater reason to all that than simply cultivating for cultivation’s sake.”

“Why, of course I do,” Ren responded. “My goal is to become an Immortal. To reach the final stage of cultivation and ascend to the heavens.”

“I think what Lee Han is trying to ask, is do you have any other goals you are trying to achieve along the path of cultivation,” Shen interjected, “What do you want to do with your cultivation when you obtain it?”

“Use it to cultivate more, of course,” Ren said. “What greater calling is there for a cultivator than to cultivate? You might as well ask a rock why it’s so hard . The wind why it blows, or the river why it…flows”

Why it flows…

Why it flows…

Why it flows!

That was it.

That was what he’d been missing from his study of the Teal Jade Qi Gathering Method. He spun the tile he’d drawn in his fingers, as his head was awhirl with more rapidly circulating ideas.

He had been so focused on imitating the flow of qi in the jade that he’d missed the lesson the manual had been imparting: that he was supposed to be gaining an understanding of why the jade’s qi flowed the way it flowed. By simply imitating its flow, all he was doing was attempting to turn his cultivation into that of a rock’s. But by observing how the qi flowed through the stone, how it followed the natural veins of qi within it, that functioned similarly to his own meridians… Yes, emulation through observation was the key, rather than mere shape imitation.

He needed to meditate on this immediately. This was a breakthrough. If he lost track of his thoughts now, when he’d finally had this stroke of inspiration, he would be squandering this opportunity. Ren stood, calmly placing down his last draw with shaking fingers as he did.

“Apologies Seniors, but I have just had a stroke of inspiration. Thank you for the game. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance. And thank you for the rice Senior Xia Bao, it was truly delicious.” He bowed to his companions, before returning to his room in as dignified a manner as he could manage while containing his excitement.

Twelve long, auspicious steps later and he was through the door. Another five steps, also auspicious, as it was five like the five elements, and he was in front of his jade.

Yes, he could see it all so clearly now. He had had eyes, but now they could truly see. He sank into a meditative pose, cushion forgotten as he was entranced by the stone. The flow of the stone’s qi was just as visible as before, but now that he knew what he was looking for he could truly understand it. Its flow was not simply contained by rigid meridians or the hardness of the stone. Nor was it simply a path worn into the stone by its nature, a winding shape of whatever path the qi had decided to follow. It was a harmony of the two, a… what was the word. Ah, resonance! That was what it was, resonance.

As the word swam to the surface of Chao Ren’s mind, another idea struck him. He drew a fist back and struck the slab in turn. A clear note rang out, and as he watched, the jade’s qi rippled in response. The qi in the surrounding air shivered a well, its flow changing to match that of the jade’s before slowly returning to its usual chaotic flow.

There was so much to learn here. Ren struck the jade again, watching the way that the flow of qi changed as it changed between its two states. He took a deep breath and let his own qi flow through his meridians. Not forcing it through, but simply allowing it to flow, and to resonate with himself. For his first breath he felt nothing, but by his tenth, he began to feel a faint sense of harmony. He struck the jade again, and as he watched the qi once again attune itself to the air around him, he took yet another breath, ready to try again, for as long as it would take.

*****

As Chao Ren sprinted off to his room to make use of his breakthrough, Bailong Shen let out a sigh. He had hoped that they would be able to break their headstrong junior out of his shell, but it would seem that the heavens themselves had made other plans. He took a long drink as he mulled his thoughts over, before turning back to find that his tablemates were going through Chao Ren’s tiles in his absence.

“Oh!” Lee Han exclaimed, looking at the matching Green Dragon that Ren had drawn right before his departure. “It would seem that the heavens truly were favoring Chao Ren today. Drawing a new source of inspiration along with his winning tile. What a lucky guy.”

“It’s a shame that it took so long for him to get to that win,” Shen noted, absentmindedly shuffling his tiles. To an observer his hand would seem like the hand of a child who didn’t know how to play the game; an utter menagerie of unassociated tiles. “I thought that we agreed that we’d let him win an early game to let him feel more comfortable, Lee Han.”

“Hey, I had to make it seem natural,” Lee Han snapped back, “If I’m down to one tile left, I can’t just let my winning tile pass.”

“Of course you could,” Shen responded, “you just don’t call it. You just needed to hold onto your last tile until I fed into his last wait.”

“Well, I don’t see you complaining to Bao,” Lee Han replied, pointing accusingly at their companion.

“Honestly, I don’t think I can find it in myself to blame him,” Shen said. “I don’t think that either of us could have resisted winning with Orphans.”

“I am sorry about that,” Bao apologized, picking a fleck of dried rice from his wok, “I know that he was pretty close that hand as well.”

“He was pretty close most of the hands,” Lee Han said as he started to stack a small tower of tiles with his invisible hand. “Honestly, it was all just down to luck in the end.”

“Or self control,” Shen said.

“I said I was sorry,” Lee Han replied. “Shit.” The tenth tile had proved to be too much for his mental dexterity, and the whole thing came tumbling down. He brushed the tiles aside and started another stack.

“You definitely didn’t,” Bao noted, putting his wok on the grass to dry. “Do you think that he’s going to be alright?”

“With the isolation or with the test?” Shen asked.

“Both, I suppose.”

“I think our little sage can handle being alone with his cultivation,” Lee Han said, carefully focusing on his stacking. “He’s got the temperament for it. My uncle was the same way. Always more comfortable in his cave than in a conversation. Can’t say much about the test part though. Inspiration like that’s always a crapshoot.”

“Indeed,” Shen agreed, “I’ve heard a few tales of cultivators who found inspiration and set out to refine their art further through closed door cultivation, only to end up with something far from what they intended on achieving.”

He remembered hearing about how it happened to a third uncle of his during his youth. As his mother told it, his honored uncle had entered his cave attempting to refine his Twin Long Horn Volcano Fist, and emerged a decade later with a new recipe for roasting pork skins. It was a very good recipe, but it was also a testament to the fact that even the most focused cultivator could still end up getting sidetracked. For someone of Chao Ren’s age, it was unlikely that he’d be able to remain focused for quite that long, but given the requirements of the test, and the time they had left…

Lee Han cursed his tower’s second collapse as Shen reached a conclusion. “I think there’s a good chance he’ll succeed.”