It was already late into the night, and Zhou Qin sat on the balcony, an easel set up before her, intently painting under the mixed light of the moon filtering from the sky and the lamps spilling from the house.
Having returned home, she had shed the luxurious gown worn at the banquet for a comfortable, casual long shirt. The hem of the shirt draped down almost to her thighs, barely covering her hips. Her snow-white legs were crossed, and a palette of paints rested on her thigh.
The girl was working on an oil painting: a young boy and girl chasing a pair of butterflies across a grassy field. In the painting, the butterflies formed the foreground, with the children positioned behind them. The piece was nearing completion; Zhou Qin was applying the final touches, smearing pigment onto the edges and corners.
Painting was one of Zhou Qin’s many skills and talents, but out of them all, she preferred painting because only when she held a brush could she dedicate her entire mind and spirit, forgetting all the vexations of the outside world.
But in this world, no painting is ever truly finished, unless the artist wills it so.
The moment Zhou Qin placed the final stroke, it was as if she had been abruptly yanked from another dimension and thrust back into reality. A crushing sense of loss and emptiness washed over her instantly.
She stared blankly at the finished artwork, unable to stop the indelible memory of the banquet scene from surfacing in her mind.
“Why did I just act on impulse and say something like that?” Zhou Qin bit her vividly red lip with her pearly white teeth, her delicate brows furrowed.
Why, truly?
Was it because this young man was too outstanding? Or because he was too unique?
If excellence were the measure, Zhou Qin had met hundreds of men a hundred times more accomplished than Li Yundong, men who had built vast empires while still young. If uniqueness was the criterion, she had encountered men far more unconventional than Li Yundong, possessing not only personality but also profound talent.
So why the sudden, reckless impulse?
A wave of agitation swept over Zhou Qin. If she hadn't been so impulsive, she wouldn't have been rejected; not being rejected would mean she wouldn't feel this intense shame and discomfort.
Was he retaliating for her having rejected him in the past?
This thought suddenly struck Zhou Qin, and the more she considered it, the more plausible it seemed. Men, after all, were so concerned with saving face!
But besides this reason, were there any others?
Zhou Qin agonized over the question, yet another concern haunted her like a nightmare: What exactly was it about this young man that attracted her?
Was it merely the surging hormones of a young woman, or something else entirely?
Growing increasingly restless, Zhou Qin abruptly stood up and moved from the balcony into the room. As she entered, she noticed a middle-aged man standing quietly within the space, watching her.
“You’re back?” Zhou Qin was momentarily startled, but quickly offered a cool, composed greeting. “Finally finished?”
The middle-aged man nodded, his gaze shifting from his daughter to the painting, a look of admiration spreading across his face. “It’s very good.”
By this time, Zhou Qin had already picked up a utility knife. With a sharp swish, she sliced through the canvas, then tore it into several pieces.
The man froze. “Why would you tear it? It was painted so well! Those butterflies were so lifelike!”
Zhou Qin stated coldly, “No matter how lifelike the butterflies are, they can never fly out of the frame!”
The man gave a wry smile. “Are you still blaming me? You should understand the benefits of the alliance with the He family better than I do. You’ve been smart and sensible since you were small; you should know that in a family like ours, there’s no escaping these things. I heard you sent Young Master He packing today? Ah, the whims of youth. I thought you were much more mature than this; I didn’t expect you to engage in such childish behavior.”
Zhou Qin lifted her eyelids, glancing at the middle-aged man nearby. Her gaze was so unfamiliar, it was as if he were a complete stranger. She said nothing more, merely tossing the shredded pieces of canvas, one by one, off the balcony.
...
At almost the exact same moment, after returning home with Su Chan, Li Yundong closed the door and looked at Su Chan with an expression of utter speechlessness.
Su Chan kept her head lowered, puffing out her cheeks, occasionally stealing a daring glance at Li Yundong.
“Alright, alright, I won’t do it again…” Unable to bear his gaze any longer, Su Chan grabbed Li Yundong’s hand and pouted coquettishly, “Who told you to starve me for so long!”
Li Yundong looked utterly defeated. “How could you pile so much onto a single plate? How did you even think of that? I can’t deal with you; no one was trying to steal your food!”
Su Chan immediately retorted sweetly, “Yes, you were, you were trying to steal it from me!”
Li Yundong shot her a look. “And you still argue back!”
Su Chan immediately dropped her head, muttering under her breath, “It’s true, though!”
Li Yundong couldn't help but laugh. “Well, now you’re famous. Dressed like a princess, only to turn out to be a starved ghost reincarnated!”
Seeing Li Yundong laugh, Su Chan seized the opportunity to press her advantage. “I don’t want to be a princess; I want to be the little darling of our household’s master!”
With such a playful, doting girl beside him, Li Yundong found it impossible to maintain any temper. He tapped the tip of Su Chan’s nose with his finger. “You, you. I really don’t know what to do with you. Don’t ever do something like that again, understand? It’s too embarrassing!”
Su Chan wrinkled her nose and made a silly face. “Look who’s talking!”
After some playful banter, Li Yundong took a shower, changed into sleepwear, and sat in the living room enjoying the cool breeze.
The living room and dining room of the new residence were integrated. The apartment had three balconies in total: one next to the living room and one next to the dining room. Thus, when the windows on both sides were opened, the rooms were wonderfully ventilated. Especially at night, the night breeze sweeping through from both directions provided a refreshment so complete that air conditioning was utterly unnecessary.
After showering, Li Yundong sat in the spacious living room. Feeling the gentle night breeze, he unconsciously adopted the cross-legged posture Su Chan had used earlier, sinking into thought about the day’s events.
“I guess I’m a card slave now…” Li Yundong gave a wry smile as he recalled the debt on his bank card. “Looks like I absolutely have to get a job this summer. But thankfully, the graduation exams are coming up soon, and then it’s vacation—not much time left.”
Li Yundong was a very easygoing person. The fact that he could tolerate Su Chan’s strange background and bizarre behavior without asking questions spoke volumes about his temperament—he was content with whatever fate brought him. He was burdened with a mountain of debt, yet he wasn't worried in the slightest about how he’d repay it.
It was precisely this character that was best suited for cultivation. The first requirement for spiritual practice is the ability to maintain a calm and quiet mind. If anyone else were burdened by such debt, they would be consumed by worry and agitation—how could they possibly cultivate anything?
Thinking in this carefree manner, Li Yundong naturally slipped into the cycle of circulation for the Minor Heavenly Cycle—this had become his daily routine. He would consciously begin this practice immediately upon returning home, without even needing the little girl to remind him.
The state of the Minor Heavenly Cycle circulation is highly conducive to sleep. Before long, Li Yundong drifted off into a light slumber, the internal qi circulating automatically within him.
After an unknown period, Li Yundong suddenly awoke from his dream. Just as he was about to open his eyes, he heard Su Chan’s voice right beside his ear: “Don’t open your eyes. Keep circulating your qi. Try to observe and feel how the vital energy moves through your internal organs.”
Li Yundong was confused, but his absolute trust in Su Chan made him immediately comply.
Li Yundong wasn't sure how to “observe and feel” the circulation of his qi, but as he focused his attention on the flowing energy inside him, he suddenly perceived a marvelous realm and state.
It was as if he were suspended within a massive container, surrounded by rolling masses of colored qi—he was swimming between these masses.
The sensation was utterly profound. Li Yundong suddenly felt his body become hollow, as if his physical form had ceased to exist; he felt as if he were about to float away.
Li Yundong abruptly snapped his eyes open, exclaiming in surprise and delight, “What is happening?”
Su Chan, beside him, was terrified by his sudden interruption of the circulation, her face paling instantly. She quickly checked the flow of qi within Li Yundong. Thankfully, his Qi Refining was already established, so there was no immediate danger—for an ordinary practitioner, such a sudden break could invite disaster and lead to deviation of the spirit.
Su Chan couldn’t help but rage, “Are you crazy? How could you suddenly speak like that?”
Li Yundong rarely saw Su Chan angry. He mumbled sheepishly, “Well, what should I have done?”
Su Chan pointed toward the lower Dantian area beneath Li Yundong’s navel. “Although the Middle Dantian manages the qi, there are actually many places in the human body where qi is stored, a particularly vital one being the Lower Dantian. Most of the qi in your body originates here before flowing into the meridians. Therefore, you must guide all that energy back to the Dantian before you conclude the practice and speak! This is called having a beginning and an end!”
Seeing Su Chan’s intense seriousness, Li Yundong nodded in kind. Although he had always held a mixture of belief and skepticism towards cultivation, deep down he often associated such things with feudal superstition.
After all, there had been so many fraudulent Qigong masters in the past!
But since Su Chan was teaching him, Li Yundong followed along, and he was slowly beginning to find genuine enjoyment in the process.
Li Yundong said, “I understand; I’ll be careful next time. But just now, I felt like my entire body vanished. I only saw swirling masses of differently colored energy all around me. What was that? Could I be hallucinating?”
As he spoke, a look of both excitement and faint worry crossed his face.
Su Chan explained, “That is the highest stage of Qi Refining. The true master Zhang Sanfeng once said that martial arts, just like Qi Refining, is a process of transforming Essence into Qi, transforming Qi into Spirit, and finally transforming Spirit into the Void.”
Li Yundong looked astonished. “Zhang Sanfeng said things like that? What does transforming Essence into Qi, Qi into Spirit, and Spirit into the Void mean?”
Su Chan said, “Transforming Essence into Qi is the main lesson in Qi Refining; it means refining the Essence within your body into vital Qi. Transforming Qi into Spirit means refining that vital Qi into mental energy. And transforming Spirit into the Void means converting your mental energy into True Essence that can be utilized for divine abilities!”
Li Yundong was utterly confused. “What are Vital Qi, mental energy, and True Essence? Have you been playing too many online games or reading too many novels? Aren’t Vital Qi and mental energy the same thing?”
Su Chan, though playful, lacked patience and felt a secret wave of frustration. She patiently elaborated, “Your previous practice was the process of transforming Essence into Qi. The masses of qi you perceived just now—that is what you see when your Qi Refining reaches its peak stage: you are observing the condition of your internal organs.”
Li Yundong was startled. “What? I saw my internal organs? But the energy I saw was multicolored, every color imaginable.”
Su Chan said, “That’s right. Zhang Zhongjing, in his Jingui Yaolüe, proposed the ‘Theory of Mixed Diseases of the Five Zang Organs,’ which first established the attribution and colors of the body’s five internal organs. The Kidneys are black, the Heart is red, the Liver and Gallbladder are green, the Lungs are white, and the Spleen is yellow. Therefore, the multicolored clouds of qi you saw are your Heart, Liver, Spleen, Lungs, and Kidneys!”
Li Yundong stood frozen, staring blankly at Su Chan. This little girl quoted classics effortlessly, bringing forth facts as if reciting from memory. Where was the simple-minded, flirtatious girl from the banquet?
‘Why would her master only teach her these things and neglect to teach her anything about daily life?’ A thought involuntarily sprang into Li Yundong’s mind. ‘Could she be a disciple of Buddhism or Taoism?’
Thinking of this, Li Yundong couldn't help but cry out, his heart pounding wildly: If that were true, wouldn't this girl turn into a nun or a Taoist priestess? And would he then become a bald donkey or a Taoist cowherd?