Young Master Xian Sure Has Changed

Much like it was when I came in, the room goes silent, and all heads turn to observe the newcomer.

The person standing at the door is either a very pretty man, or a boyish looking woman.

They’re tall, six foot at least, and dressed in fancy blue armour with gold accents and a red sash around the waist.

Their hair is long, down past their shoulders, and wild, sticking out all over the place like they’d just been struck by lightning or something.

All of this is secondary though to how the newcomer’s fierce eyes lock onto me, and how Meng Yi lets out a long suffering sigh as they march to our table.

“Vice Commander Xiuying,” Meng Yi says as the newcomer pulls out a chair at our table. “To what do we owe the… pleasure of your company.”

I recognize the name immediately; the peasant rank cultivator who Meng Yi had told me was the cause of much of his insecurities about his cultivation rank.

According to what Meng Yi said, Vice Commander Xiuying is a woman, and it is only now, knowing this, that I notice that the breastplate portion of her armour seems to place a bit more emphasis on the breast portion than male armour traditionally does.

“I’ve come to see the man who heaven has decided to favour despite already giving him every advantage,” Vice Commander Xiuying says, gaze fixed on me.

It is a rather intimidating gaze.

“Well, there he is,” Meng Yi says. “Feast your eyes upon his splendour.”

Xiuying shoots her a nasty look.

Meng Yi looks entirely unimpressed.

“Uh, hi,” I say, making the gesture of a formal greeting that Meng Yi taught me. “Nice to meet you. You’re Vice Commander Xiuying, right? Meng Yi’s told me about you.”

The Vice Commander stares at me for several long seconds.

Finally, she turns to Meng Yi.

“Who is this?” she asks. “Because this is not Xian Qigang.”

While my heart misses a beat in my chest, Meng Yi sips her tea calmly.

“Do your eyes no longer work?” she asks.

“Don’t play with me, Manager Meng,” Xiuying snarls. “This can’t be Xian Qigang; enlightenment doesn’t do… this to a person.”

“And how many enlightened people have you met?” Meng Yi fires back.

Xiuying glares silently for several seconds.

“Fuck off,” she says finally.

“How mature,” Meng Yi says, voice laden with sarcasm.

I look from one woman to the next, wondering what the hell is going on.

Meng Yi had never mentioned any sort of antagonism with Xiuying. In fact, based on what she said, it was old me who had that issue.

Deciding to step in, I say; “I don’t really understand it myself, but I suppose that’s what happens when a peasant rank cultivator eats a noble rank celestial plum.”

I shrug awkwardly.

Xiuying looks at me. Then at Meng Yi. Then back to me. Finally, she leans back in her seat, looking for all the world like reality just stopped making sense.

“What is happening right now?” she asks no one.

Meng Yi replies; “You’re realizing that my Young Master has left you in his dust.”

Xiuying’s eyes flash with determination.

“Like hell,” she says, then scoffs. “His dust. Don’t make me laugh. How has he left me in his dust when his cultivation is back at the first layer of the Weaving phase? Noble rank or not, I still surpass him.”

“For now,” Meng Yi points out. “After all, like you said, he has every advantage; he’s wealthy, and, as someone who has cultivated to the fifth layer of the Weaving phase before, it will be easier for him to do so again, even with a higher rank cultivation.

“You, on the other hand, took six years to claw your way to the second layer of the Sprouting phase. The evidence speaks for itself.”

Xiuying smiles a smile that shows too many teeth. “Well, in that case, maybe I’ll find a rich man to sell my body to in return for cultivation resources. I hear it’s all the rage with young women these days.”

Wait, did she just… Oh my God, she did not just imply what I’m pretty sure she just implied.

Meng Yi scoffs. “Please, don’t let that armour fool you. We all know you’re as flat as a board under there. What are you going to woo a man with? Your charming personality?”

Despite myself, I snort.

Both women’s attention immediately swap to me, and being the brave, noble man that I am, I instantly pick up my teacup and take a very long sip.

“He’s so… different,” Xiuying says.

“Yes, he is,” Meng Yi agrees. “He fucks different too.”

I spit out my tea.

“What!? No, we… I wouldn’t… I mean…”

“Is he blushing?” Xiuying asks, looking amused.

Meng Yi hands me a napkin. “Brings out his eyes, doesn’t it?” she asks.

I snatch the napkin from her, shooting her a nasty look as I wipe up, and both women enjoy my embarrassment.

Silence settles for a good, long moment, then, Xiuying opens her mouth to speak, hesitates and closes it again.

“Is something the matter?” I ask her, and she stares at me with a complicated expression on her face.

I keep quiet, giving her the room to decide one way or another, and after a minute, she says; “What was it like? Enlightenment. What is it like?”

Uh oh.

That’s… not good.

How the hell am I supposed to—no, wait. This isn’t the end, I realize as, though by divine intervention, an idea comes to me.

I put on an expression of thoughtfulness for a moment, actually thinking about how best to go about this.

Eventually, a clear plan in mind, I wave over one of the waiters.

The young man looks panicked for a moment, but before I can process that, the headwaiter materializes next to me.

“Yes, Young Master Xian, is anything not to your satisfaction?” he asks.

“Oh, uh, no, everything’s fine,” I say quickly, calming the man. “The meal’s great. Just uh… can I get chopsticks? As many as you can get me. At least thirty.”

The headwaiter doesn’t even blink. “Of course, Young Master Xian. Right away.”

He hurries gracefully away.

“What do chopsticks have to do with enlightenment?” Xiuying asks, staring at me suspiciously.

“It’s not the chopsticks,” I explain. “They’re simply a tool to show you what I experienced.”

Both women give me odd looks, but neither says anything else.

The headwaiter returns quickly, a waiter behind him carrying a tray with at least fifty chopsticks on it.

I direct them to set it in Xiuying’s place on the table, then give a polite no when the headwaiter asks if we need anything else.

Xiuying picks up one of the chopsticks, eyeing it then me.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” she asks.

I pick my own chopsticks, masking the act by taking a bite of my food.

“Every time I say ‘break’, snap one of the chopsticks and set it aside,” I tell Xiuying.

Xiuying looks at the chopstick in her hand, then at Meng Yi (who shrugs), then at me.

“And this will explain enlightenment to me?” she asks.

“Explain enlightenment? No. Show you what’s it’s like to experience enlightenment? Hopefully,” I say.

I remember the day my Mom showed me this experiment. I remember the feeling it’d left me with for days afterwards; how it had felt like I could suddenly see the world. See the patterns and the layers that had entirely eluded me my whole life before that moment.

If I can generate even just a tenth of that feeling in Xiuying, I would have succeeded, I think.

“Do you remember the instruction?” I ask to be safe.

“Snap a chopstick when you say ‘break’. I’m not an idiot.”

I nod in apology.

“Okay then, break,” I say, at the same time tapping my own chopsticks in hand against my bowl of food.

It lets out a ting! sound; loud enough to be heard by all at our table, but nowhere near enough to draw direct notice.

Especially not in a restaurant.

Xiuying obediently picks up a chopstick and snaps it in two.

“Break,” I say again. Ting! my bowl sounds.

And again Xiuying picks up a chopstick and snaps it.

“Break.” A third time. Ting! Number three.

Xiuying looks a little irritated now, but right as she’s about to say something, a look of realization comes upon her and her expression clears.

With a small pleased smile, she picks up a chopstick and snaps it in two.

Has she figured it out? I wonder. She might have. I assume she’s not an idiot, after all, and, for all I know, this world has its own scientist who figured out, and popularized, the same things Pavlov did in mine.

I can’t stop now though, I’m in too deep.

I can only go all the way and hope that she’s thinking this is something else than what it is.

I give Xiuying the ‘break’ command about seven more times, after which, I bite the bullet and, looking right at her, I tap the bowl silently, and watch in amazement as she still picks up a chopstick and snaps it in two.

Got you, I crow mentally.

I tap the bowl again, and again Xiuying picks up a chopstick and snaps it.

Again and again, the pattern repeats.

This entire time, Meng Yi has been watching, trying to figure out what I’m doing, and she must have now because her eyes widen like dinner plates.

Xiuying doesn’t miss it.

“You’ve figured it out?” she asks, somewhat condescendingly, but not unkindly.

Meng Yi looks at her. “You think you see it,” she says, her expression one of amazement.

For the first time, Xiuying looks unsure.

“Of course I do,” she says.

“And what am I showing you?” I ask her.

She looks at me. “Something to do with the power of repetition. Likely along the lines of the teachings of General Mao Yun,” she says, confidence wavering when I simply look pensive at her words.

“I have no idea who General Mao Yun is, but you’re part right, this does teach the power of repetition,” I say. “It isn’t the point though.”

“What’s the point then?” she challenges.

I think about that for a moment.

“Do you remember the instruction I gave you?” I ask.

Xiuying let’s out a short frustrated breath, then she says; “Break a chopstick when you tell me to.”

I nod in agreement, then I tap my bowl, wanting to show her how she’s completely missed the point, but to my utter amazement, Xiuying picks up a chopstick, snaps it angrily, and sets it aside.

“I recall your instructions,” she says angrily.

I blink, and Meng Yi lets loose an amazed, breathless laugh.

Xiuying stares at us both, understanding now that there is something we know that completely eludes her.

“Xiuying,” I say, “look at my lips.”

I tap my bowl, louder than I have all this time. Doing nothing to mask the motion, or the act.

Xiuying looks frustrated and confused, trying to see just what—and she got it.

Her reaction is a lot more than I expected.

A simple ‘oh’ of amazement would have been fine for me. Goosebumps would have been amazing.

Xiuying takes it up to a whole other level.

Her eyes go wide and round, and her face pales as she draws back in realization.

Her qi swells within her, then it shudders, dips, swells again and, with a roar like a lion or something, it bursts out of her body to wash across the restaurant in an invisible wave.

Everyone stills.

Some of the non cultivators are pale and shuddering, a couple are passed out.

As for the cultivators, every last one of them is staring with wide eyes.

What the fuck!?

Meng Yi gapes. “Did… did you just…?”

“She just advanced!” someone says in awe.

Okay, again, I ask; what the actual fuck!?