The celebratory mood of the previous evening had faded with the first light of dawn. Now, the morning air was filled with the crisp expectation of discipline, an uncomfortable reminder of their responsibilities.
Lin Mei was determined to ensure Tian Hao took his role seriously, even if that meant drilling him on etiquette until he could perform it in his sleep. It was time for a different kind of training—one that required focus, precision, and grace, none of which Tian Hao seemed eager to display.
“Feet together, Tian Hao! Back straight!” Lin Mei’s voice echoed through the room, sharp and precise as a honed blade slicing through silk. “You move like a drunken earthworm, not a cultivator.”
She demonstrated the proper stance, her body a study in controlled grace, each movement fluid and balanced. “Again! Show me the ‘Fourth Salutation’—and this time, try not to trip over your own feet.
Tian Hao stifled a yawn. He mimicked Lin Mei’s movements, but his attempt at elegance was… lacking. His back slumped, his feet shuffled awkwardly, and his hands, instead of gracefully clasping together, fumbled as if they were strangers.
Lin Mei sighed, her patience already wearing thin. “Tian Hao, we’ve been over this a hundred times! Focus!”
“But Mei Mei,” Tian Hao whined, his voice laced with exaggerated weariness, “it’s all so… formal. Why can’t we just… be ourselves?”
“Because ‘ourselves’ involves copious amounts of wine, questionable culinary experiments, and a tendency to antagonize every disciple 'we' encounter,” Lin Mei retorted, her voice sharp. “We’re representing the Skyward Lotus Sect, Tian Hao, not a band of drunken monkeys. There are traditions, protocols, expectations—things that even you, Young Master, must adhere to—if only for a few weeks. Or are you seeking another 'field trip'?”
Jiuwei, perched on the windowsill, her silver fur gleaming in the afternoon sun, watched the scene unfold with a growing sense of amusement. She let out a sigh, unable to resist commenting aloud.
"Tian Hao, you look like a floundering fish," she called out. "How do you manage to be so hopeless at this?"
Tian Hao paused mid-movement, turning his head towards her, an incredulous look crossing his face. "A fish? Really, Jiuwei? I'm trying, alright? It's not like I was born to dance like Lin Mei over there."
Jiuwei's tail flicked lazily, her disdain softening. 'Honestly, how does he manage to be so hopeless at this?' she mused internally. Still, she couldn't deny that there was something endearing about his struggles. No matter how often he messed up, Tian Hao never gave up entirely. That stubbornness was what kept her watching—and what made these moments all the more entertaining.
A mischievous glint flickered in Jiuwei’s golden eyes. Her tail twitched as she turned towards a nearby table. A small, decorative mirror—infused with minor illusionary formations—lay on its surface. The intricate frame shimmered faintly, the energy almost imperceptible but now under her full attention.
With a breath through her nose, she sent a pulse of spirit energy towards the mirror. It shimmered, its surface rippling like water before solidifying into an almost perfect reflection of Tian Hao. Meanwhile, the real Tian Hao seemed to fade from perception.
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Lin Mei froze, her eyes widening. Standing in front of her was Tian Hao—his face contorted into a mockery of her serious demeanor, complete with an exaggerated bow so low his forehead nearly touched the ground.
“Tian Hao!” she exclaimed, her voice rising in indignation, exasperation turning now to anger, "What in the world do you think you're doing? That is not how you show respect! Stop mimicking me like some petulant monkey!"
Tian Hao, startled by Lin Mei’s reaction, turned towards where she was looking, his eyes widening in surprise and dawning comprehension. He quickly realized what Jiuwei was up to, his lips twitching as he fought back a grin at the absurdity, the situation now clearly more a prank of the little fox than any actual failing on his part.
He looked back at Lin Mei who now gestured towards the distorted image, her confusion evident.
“Mei Mei,” he began, waving his hands to try and get her attention, “I swear, it’s not me! It’s the mirror! It’s… it’s doing something strange,” he insisted, internally thinking, 'Of all the times for Jiuwei to mess around, it had to be now? I can't tell if I should laugh or cry.'
The reflection in the mirror shifted again, Tian Hao’s illusory form now mimicking his own bewildered gestures. It was as though he were mocking her confusion. Lin Mei, still trying to make sense of the shifting reflections, couldn’t help but take this as a taunt, as well.
Lin Mei’s eyes narrowed, her voice rising in exasperation, “Really, Tian Hao?! Are you trying to be as useful as a one-legged duck in a swimming contest?! Is this your idea of a joke?! I’m trying to help you, and you’re busy making faces at me? You’re acting like a toddler!"
Tian Hao, baffled by her accusations, pointed a trembling finger towards Jiuwei, whose tiny form now shook with barely contained mirth. “It’s… it’s not me… it’s Jiuwei… the mirror,” he stammered, his explanation lost in the confusion as the illusions shifted faster.
Jiuwei, unable to contain herself any longer, burst into laughter. “Oh, come on, Tian Hao! Put a little more flair into it! At least make it entertaining if you’re going to mess it up!” she hooted, the sound echoing Tian Hao's laughter.
Lin Mei stared at the illusion, her eyes narrowing. "What in the heavens is going on here?" she muttered. Hesitating, her brows furrowed as she tried to make sense of the scene before her.
She glanced at the illusion, which continued to make rude faces, and then at Jiuwei, whose tiny shoulders shook with barely contained laughter. Lin Mei's eyes flicked between them, her confusion giving way to realization. 'This isn't just Tian Hao being foolish... this is that fox's doing,' she thought, her lips pressing into a thin line as she caught Jiuwei trying—and failing—to stifle her laughter.
Understanding dawned slowly, peeling away the layers of tension that had built within her. Lin Mei's stern expression softened, and much to Tian Hao's surprise, her lips curved into a small smile. The absurdity of the situation finally hit her, and she let out a soft snort.
Her laughter, soft at first, quickly escalated into a full-blown giggle fit, her shoulders shaking, tears streaming down her cheeks. The whole situation—Tian Hao’s bewildered expression, the exaggerated reflections, and Jiuwei’s smugness—was too much to take seriously, the tension breaking.
Tian Hao let out a sigh of relief, glad she wasn't angry. Despite himself, he started laughing too, her laughter proving infectious. The delight in her eyes mirrored the joy he felt, and for the first time in a while, their connection felt easy again.
Jiuwei let the illusion dissolve before hopping down from the windowsill, her tiny paws landing softly on the table. “Well, that was entertaining,” she remarked with a smirk as though this too was merely another aspect of Tian Hao’s training, "Now, perhaps we can start taking things more seriously?”
Lin Mei, recovering from her laughter, turned to the little fox. "Jiuwei! Do you ever take anything seriously? You can't just—"
Before she could finish, a sharp, commanding knock echoed at the door. The sound was so sudden and forceful that it made both Tian Hao and Lin Mei jump slightly. They exchanged concerned glances, tension settling in the room once again.