… then, with the ease of practice, I open the cultivation manual, focus on the words, and, after what is either a minute or a century, I become the sun.

—❈—

I open my eyes to a familiar ceiling, my body spread out on a sinfully soft bed that I’ve come to cherish deeply in the short time that I’ve been here.

My mind is clear, my body brimming with energy. Not just any kind of energy though; heat.

It’s like there’s a candle in my chest… no, not a candle, a sun.

This is no hellish summer heat though. No, it feels more like basking under the rays of the sunrise after a chilly night.

It feels pleasant; life-giving.

I draw in a deep breath, the sun flaring within my chest, and, for a moment, a crystal clear image forms in my mind.

The Emperor walked through the frozen wasteland, crown of solar fire and gold adorning his brow.

Where he walked the frozen earth melted, plants sprouting from the soft, dark dirt, reaching for him and seeking his life-giving warmth.

I release the breath in surprise and the image fades, the sun within me cooling with the shocked exhale.

Well, that was weird.

I thought I needed the Path of The Sun Emperor manual to see those visions.

Do I not need the manual anymore? Is it because I’ve learnt the method?

Or, is it because I’ve learnt it but haven’t mastered it? Because, I know enough about cultivation to know that mastery of a cultivation method is what advances you to the Sprouting phase.

I also know enough to know that, the higher in rank a cultivation method is, the more powerful, yes, but also the more… layered, it is.

What exactly these layers are, I don’t know, the beginner’s guide to cultivation I’m still making my way through didn’t say, but I suspect that it has something to do with this vision.

Feeling experimental, I close my eyes and focus on the sun within me, feeling its warmth. I suck in a deep, slow breath, and though the sun flares with the breath and its heat grows and flows like sunlight through my veins, I get no visions.

I exhale with a frown, the sun cooling once more.

Am I doing it wrong? I wonder.

Again I inhale; the sun flares. No visions.

Again I exhale; it cools.

In again. No visions. Out again.

In. Nothing but the pleasant feeling of sunlight cycling through me in a complex, beckoning pattern. Out.

In. I trace the golden light with my senses, not quite vision but a thousand times better than proprioception. Out.

In. I follow the light, weaving through—oh, this is my qi network. Wow, it’s beautiful. Like an endlessly layered tapestry with a billion billion threads winding through and across each other in a thousand intricate patterns. Out.

In. The tapestry lights up with the sun. Golden light rushing through the threads. Lighting this beautiful, inner world. Out.

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I—“Young Master,” Meng Yi says shaking me.

I open my eyes to her face.

Meng Yi always looks calm, without so much as a strand of hair out of place, not even the first time we met, when she’d gone from… you know, to finding out that I wasn’t Xian Qigang, had she been anything but calm and collected.

This is exactly why, when I open my eyes to see Meng Yi sweaty, panting, pale, and eyes a little too wide, it blares in my mind like a klaxon.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong? Did something happen?” I ask, mind conjuring up vague and vaguely horrifying explanations for her present state.

“I’m fine,” she says, forcing her breathing back under control. “But, perhaps in the future, you should refrain from cultivating a noble rank method in your bedroom. If it had been one of the mortal servants who walked in, we might have a real problem on our hands.”

My eyes widen. Oh, crap.

“I’m so sorry,” I say. “I didn’t think—”

“It’s okay,” she cuts me off gently, a hand rising to settle on my shoulder consolingly. “You’re new to this. Mistakes are to be expected.”

I frown. “You’re right, but… even so, it is the duty of those with power to wield it responsibly. I guess I just have to get used to the reality that I have power now.”

Real power too. Like, literally kill someone with my presence power.

I swallow.

That’s not unsettling at all. Nope. Not even a little bit.

Meng Yi is giving me one of those looks she gives me every now and again, when I do certain things.

I have a strong suspicion why, but I ask nevertheless; “What?”

She shakes her head. “No one is ever going to believe you’re Xian Qigang,” she says.

I frown again, in confusion this time. “Well, yeah, but isn’t that why we came up with the whole celestial plum plan?” I ask.

She nods. “Yes, I know, I simply meant…” she takes a moment to find the right words, and then those brown eyes of hers hit me with emotion that damn near steals my breath away. “I’m glad that you’re nothing like him.”

Our gazes lock for what feels like forever, then I smile. “Me too,” I say. “And since we’re on the subject of things we’re glad for, I’m glad I met you.” I fail to hold back a grimace. “This whole thing would be a lot harder without you helping.”

Regardless of whether or not her actions are motivated by self-interest, that does not change.

“It is my honour and my privilege, Young Master Xian,” Meng Yi says, head dipping in a small bow.

Idly, I wonder how much of her bowing and deference is done out of genuine respect towards me, and how much of it is simply keeping up appearances.

Feeling the curiosity to test it out, and also because this is something I would like to have, I say; “Can I ask you for a favour?”

“Of course, Young Master,” she says.

“When we’re alone, can you call me by my real name?” I ask. “It’s—”

“I don’t think that would be the best idea, Young Master,” Meng Yi cuts in.

And there it is.

Her reaction is unsurprising, but, I must admit, it still rankles.

“Is it so wrong to want something, this little thing, to remind myself of who I am?” I ask. “Can you tell me that in my shoes you wouldn’t do the same?”

“No,” Meng Yi admits easily.

“And yet you ask it of me,” I counter.

“You know why,” is all she says in return.

I sigh, a little pouty. I do know why.

We may have found a workaround to my needing to act like Xian Qigang, but that doesn’t change the fact that I still need to be Xian Qigang.

I need to be able to answer if I hear his name in a public place. I need to be able to see his face and think ‘wow, I look tired’.

None of that can happen if I have someone in this world reaffirming my… I hesitate even to think it… my old identity all the time.

As insane as it is to think, J—no, the old me is gone. Xian Qigang is who I am now.

Like she can see the turn my thoughts have taken, Meng Yi says; “We should get you ready. I believe it’s time Young Master Xian Qigang was introduced to the world.”

I sigh again.

“You know that thing I said about being glad to have met you? I take it back.”

Meng Yi smiles. “As is your privilege…” a deliberate pause. “…Young Master Xian Qigang.”

I sigh once more. “Heaven give me strength,” I mutter dramatically.