“It is time,” I say as Meng Yi sets the teacup before me. “For too long has this gone neglected. For too long has it been overlooked. But no more! Today, we do not what is easy, but what is right. With the intensity of intense beasts and the courage of courageous men.”

Meng Yi gives me a flat stare. “You are a very silly man, Young Master Xian,” she says.

I grin at her. “Your sister didn’t seem to mind,” I say.

The mention of her sister draws a smile and an eyeroll from Meng Yi, likely because of memories of last night.

After quacking like a duck to amuse the little girl, she’d apparently decided that I was the new source of fun for her, and well, how else was I supposed to entertain a seven-year-old but to tell her stories?

I couldn’t just tell her normal stories though. Both because I have hitherto undiscovered standards as a storyteller, and also because I’m pretty sure I don’t recall enough about the children’s stories I know to make for a cohesive plot.

Hence, I decided to throw everything I recall into a mental blender and see what came out.

Which was how I ended up telling the seven-year-old, and everyone else who cared to listen (which was pretty much everybody), the tale of Hansel and Gretel.

Only, Hansel and Gretel were bear cubs and the witch was their wicked stepmother who ate them.

But wait, there’s a twist! Turns out their stepmother only ate them because her stomach is a gateway to Narnia, a wonderful place where children are always happy.

Except Narnia wasn’t very happy anymore, not since the evil Red Queen took over, overthrowing the previous ruler of Narnia, Queen Dorothy, and her pet wolf, Toto, who does ballet.

It should be obvious how the rest of the story went after that.

While my story would not be winning any awards, except maybe ‘Most Nonsensical Plot of All Time’, my audience, by which I mean Bingbing, seemed to love it. Probably because I did all the voices and had no problem with acting out all the scenes.

Who knew a cultivator physique would be so useful for pretending to fight yourself.

You know, it was nice. Being with someone who didn’t care two hoots about what Old Qigang did. Someone who I know hadn’t been abused, or harassed, or hurt or traumatised by a man with my face. Someone who I could just let loose and goof off and laugh with.

It really was nice.

I mean, yeah, I’m pretty sure Meng Yi’s mother and other sister, An, think I’m soft in the head now but, you know what? it’s worth it.

Presently, I pick up the teacup that Meng Yi has so helpfully provided.

Jokes aside, it is time I do this. That thing has sat in my reward space for so long now that I feel like there’s someone out there in the universe being bugged by it.

Honestly, I’m starting to get a little bugged by it.

Focusing on my power, I command the reward I want to come out, and like magic, the teacup in my hand fills with tea.

Prismatic Starlightdew Mint Tea (134ml) [noble rank]

Qi virtually explodes into the room from the beverage’s sudden appearance, and my cultivation sucks it in greedily.

I stare at the glittering rainbow liquid filling the cup. “Prismatic indeed,” I mutter.

Meng Yi stumbles.

“Are you okay?” I ask, alarmed.

Looking lightheaded, she points at the cup. “Please, drink it,” she says.

Oh.

I look at the cup of tea with new eyes.

Seriously? Just the qi it releases is enough to make a fifth layer Ignition phase dizzy?

What if she sniffed it then? Or dipped a finger in the cup? Would she faint? Would such little physical contact be enough to harm her?

“Qigang,” Meng Yi calls, drawing my focus back to the matter at hand.

Right. What am I doing? Meng Yi isn’t a lab rat.

Grabbing the cup, I knock its contents back in a single swallow, leaving me ill-prepared for the burst of energy that blazes through me.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The sun in my chest flares, and I feel my cultivation glow like a world spanning tapestry of golden threads lit by solar fire.

It flares a second time, the sun within my chest… no, not my chest… it’s in my soul. And with each new flare it grows hotter… brighter… denser.

I feel my body tighten, like my spirit has grown too big for it.

The sun grows hotter and hotter. Brighter. Heavier. My qi growing with it. It climbs and climbs and then with an immense release from my pores, it peaks, as I advance into the second layer of Sprouting phase.

It’s like flying. Like feeling the sun for the first time. Like a mind-blowing orgasm and like a beautiful symphony all wrapped into one.

This is the first time I’ve advanced while conscious, and I’ve got to say, if they’re all like this then I’ve been missing out.

And speaking of advancing, I had no idea I was that close to doing so. Maybe I should pay more attention to these—

Meng Yi collapses.

Oh shit.

—❈—

Objectively, it doesn’t take Meng Yi long to wake, maybe fifteen minutes.

It feels like a week.

When she stirs, I’m right there, beside her and asking, “Are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere?”

She looks at me, eyes not quite dull, but not exactly sharp either. “You advanced,” she says.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Are you okay, though? Do you feel pain anywhere? Are you dizzy?”

She sits up slowly, and I fuss over her as she does.

“I’m so sorry,” I say. “I forgot you were right there. It was—”

“It’s okay, Young Master, you advanced, this is cause for celebration only.”

I take her hand in mine and look her steadily in the eyes.

“Meng Yi, forget about me for one second. You are what matters right now. Okay?”

Our eyes lock, and her gaze shifts to watch my face for several long moments before returning to my eyes again.

She gives me the tiniest nod.

“Good. Are you okay?”

A beat of hesitation. “My head hurts,” she admits.

My gaze moves to her head and I touch it gently, thumb pressed softly to her forehead just above her left brow like I can diagnose what’s wrong with her by touch alone.

The urge to use Glory of the Sun rises for a moment before I quickly smother it.

Glory of the Sun is not a healing technique. It’s more accurate to call it a life technique. Death too, but life is what’s important right now.

Glory of the Sun does not heal, it only heavily encourages things to grow. And since living things generally want to fix themselves when damaged, it can simulate a healing power pretty decently.

I have no idea how such a technique will react to whatever’s wrong with Meng Yi.

Even past the not-a-technique issue, there’s also the small matter that my qi is why Meng Yi is in this state right now. Somehow, I don’t think pumping more of it into her is likely to help. At all.

Fortunately though, I don’t need to do anything, and I state the reason why a moment later.

“Don’t worry, I sent for the doctor as soon as you fainted. They should be here soon.”

Meng Yi gives me a curious look. “You sent for the doctor, or you sent someone to get the doctor?” she asks carefully.

I blink at her oddly. “I sent someone,” I say.

Like, obviously I sent someone. They have no phones here. What else was I supposed to do, send a smoke signal?

“Why didn’t you use the messenger parrot?” Meng Yi asks with an expression that makes me suspect quite strongly that she knew what I had been thinking.

I pause for several seconds, remembering that, yes, there is a beast rank bird that lives in this building whose sole purpose is to send and receive messages.

“Who did you send?” Meng Yi asks, looking amused at my reaction.

“Uh, that big guy who’s always out working in the gardens.”

“The gardener?” she asks, amusement growing.

“Yes,” I say, cheeks hot. “The Gardener.”

Meng Yi stares at me for several long seconds, a small, pleased smile on her face as she enjoys my embarrassment.

“You know it will be hours before he gets to town and sees the doctor, right?” she asks, her words the final nail in the coffin housing the remnants of my self-esteem.

Like a real manly man, I proceed to bury my face in my hands, hiding my shame from the world.

Meng Yi giggles softly.

“It’s okay, Young Master,” she says, patting me on the back. “We all have our talents.”

—❈—

We end up sending the messenger parrot after Dai Lim, the gardener, telling him to come back and apologizing for making him need to go in the first place.

Meng Yi wants that to be the end of it, but upon my insistence, she also writes to the doctor, asking him to come over at his convenience.

That is precisely how she words it, ‘…at your convenience.’ I see her write it.

The doctor shows up fifteen minutes later.

I suspect it would be much quicker if my home didn’t sit at the top of a cliff over an hour’s walk from town with nothing but a winding path leading up to it.

Apparently, when Xian Qigang’s manager tells a doctor to show up at his convenience, they take it to mean ‘right freaking now!’

Regardless, I’m glad for the man’s presence, and when his only diagnosis is that Meng Yi needs rest and should avoid any cultivating for a day or two, I’m happier for it.

I send the doctor on his merry way after that, a hefty tip weighing down his pockets, and I proceed to be the fussiest fuss to ever fuss over anyone in the history of two worlds.

“Young Master Xian, this is highly inappropriate,” Meng Yi says.

“Oh, hush, all I’m doing is pour your tea,” I say.

I’m not even downplaying it either, that is pretty much all I’m doing. The house is full of servants. That Meng Yi is the only one I largely interact with doesn’t change the fact that there are probably half a dozen people at any moment to readily run any errand that may need running.

“Besides, you heard the doctor,” I continue. “You need rest.”

“That doesn’t make me an invalid, Young Master Xian,” Meng Yi says, a hint of petulance detectable in her voice.

“Ah, you’re one of those,” I say in realisation.

“One of what?”

“One of those weird caregiver types who are great at looking after others, but absolutely can’t stand it when it’s them needing looking after,” I say.

The look Meng Yi gives me is all the evidence I need to know how spot on I am. “That might be true,” she says. “Except, I don’t need looking after.”

“Well, tough luck, cause I’m your Young Master and I say you do.” I smile at her genially. “And if you push me, I just might decide you need someone to spoon-feed you that delicious bowl of soup.”

Meng Yi stares at me flatly. “I will bite your fingers,” she threatens seriously.

“Pfft. Please, I’m a noble rank cultivator, you’re more likely to break your teeth on my skin than hurt me.” I smile at her evilly. “And then you’ll really need help chewing your food.”

Meng Yi goes green as she catches my meaning, while I just laugh and laugh.