Lin Xiao trudged along the dirt path like a man returning from battle — except his battlefield was a cabbage field and his weapon was apparently… awakening enlightenment.
His shirt clung to his back from sweat and spiritual trauma, but his mind buzzed with a strange clarity.
"Hmm… If I take smaller steps while shifting my weight slightly left every third stride, I conserve 0.34% energy."
He adjusted his gait. "Aha! So this is how masters walk like they're gliding on clouds."
To a passing villager, he looked like someone who badly needed a toilet.
But Lin Xiao didn't care. His head was filled with visions — not of martial arts glory or divine cultivation… but of something far more precious: girls.
"Enlightenment Talent… Could I use it to cook the perfect tofu? Invent a spirit-powered rice cooker? Impress all the village beauties with my genius?"
He imagined himself wearing flowing white robes, hair tied back like a hero from a romantic novel.
Behind him, a line of girls waved handkerchiefs, all sighing his name.
One of them — always at the front — was Chunhua.
As he neared his modest wooden hut, still lost in his delusions of grandeur (and harems), a soft voice pulled him back to reality.
"Lin Xiao…"
He turned. There she was. Chunhua. The girl-next-door. The one whose side glances could kill stronger men.
She held a small bowl of steaming herbal medicine, hands fidgeting. "Mama said… you took a hit today. This will help."
Lin Xiao blinked. He could see her mother from here — clearly folding laundry and very much not paying attention.
He smirked. "Your mama, huh? Or is this Chunhua's secret recipe to win a man's heart through bitterness and roots?"
Chunhua flushed and shoved the bowl into his hands. "Drink it before I pour it on your head!"
He sipped. It tasted like grass and regret.
But Chunhua sat beside him on the wooden steps anyway, legs curled to the side, the air suddenly soft and awkward.
They talked — about nothing and everything. He complimented her braid. She rolled her eyes. He "accidentally" brushed her fingers when handing the bowl back.
They inched closer, laughter fading into silence. Her eyes flicked to his lips.
And just as he leaned in—
"CHUNHUA! LUNCH IS READY! DON'T MAKE ME COME GET YOU! IF YOU'RE WITH THAT USELESS BRAT AGAIN, I'LL BREAK HIS LEGS!"
Lin Xiao's heart shattered like a dropped porcelain pot.
Chunhua shot up like a startled rabbit. "Ah! Baba's calling. I—I have to go!"
She turned to flee.
Lin Xiao stared at the sky, his soul leaving his body.
"Old Man Chen," he whispered, "May your socks always be damp. May your crops always grow one fruit short. And may your nose hair never stop growing…"
He cursed the man's ancestors with surgical precision.
But just as Chunhua reached the gate, she paused.
Her cheeks flushed red as tomatoes. She spun around, ran back, and—
Peck!
A kiss. On his cheek.
Barely there. But very real.
She covered her face with both hands and darted off, squealing, "You better drink the whole bowl!"
Lin Xiao stood there. Frozen. Heart thundering. Brain lagging.
Even the rooster, perched on his roof, cocked its head in judgment.
"…This Enlightenment Talent," Lin Xiao murmured, touching his cheek with reverence, "might actually be worth something after all."
The rooster crowed. Lin Xiao didn't even flinch.
He was too busy replaying that one kiss in his mind like a looping dream.
The sun blazed mercilessly over Shibu Village, turning the dirt paths into ovens and the air into thick, sticky heat. Lin Xiao wiped sweat from his forehead and peeked into the nearly empty rice jar again. No luck.
Only he knows how he managed to survive all these years without doing a thing.
He knew the truth—and it made him smirk. The village beauties, those sneaky little heroines, often slipped him rice, vegetables, even the occasional piece of salted pork—stolen from their families' stores just to keep their favorite handsome vagabond fed.
"Handsomeness really does pay," he murmured, brushing back his unruly hair. "I might just start charging rent for this face."
Using what he had, Lin Xiao cooked a humble vegetable porridge—wilted greens, a few roots, and a handful of rice grains. The steaming pot filled his tiny hut with a homey smell that was equal parts comforting and "please don't poison me."
After slurping the bland porridge, the oppressive heat drove him outside, where the summer sun felt like a relentless spotlight. He grabbed his straw hat and headed toward the forest for shade, eager to escape the sweltering village.
Under the sprawling branches of a great old oak, his breath hitched.
There she was.
Ling'er—the blacksmith's daughter—sat alone in the shade, far from the usual village hustle. She had loosened her blouse, letting the breeze tease cool air across her skin. The delicate fabric clung in places, revealing hints of creamy skin beneath, and the slight spread of her legs caught the light just enough to set his heart pounding.
She wasn't trying to seduce anyone—just battling the unbearable heat—but to Lin Xiao's heat-addled brain, she looked like a vision crafted just for him.
His face flushed. His heart hammered.
And then, as if on cue, his body betrayed him spectacularly. A sudden, unmistakable "tent" formed in his pants, turning his embarrassment into a full-blown crisis.
"Oh no. Not now. Not here. And why these pants?!" he cursed silently, panic rising faster than the summer mercury.
Trying to mask his awkwardness, he cleared his throat loudly. "Ah, Ling'er! What a perfect day for… uh, photosynthesis. Yeah, photosynthesis."
She looked up, a slow, amused smile playing on her lips. "You're such a goof, Xiao. But I guess you're right—this shade is the only cool place in the village today."
Lin Xiao's voice cracked as he tried to play it cool. "I was just… passing by. Didn't mean to disturb your… uh… cooling-off session."
Ling'er shifted slightly, her eyes locking with his, a spark of mischief flashing through her gaze. "Don't worry. I trust you to keep this spot our secret."
His breath hitched again. The way the sun filtered through the leaves, casting dappled light over her skin, made it impossible not to be drawn in.
Lin Xiao swallowed hard, trying not to imagine what might happen if he reached out to touch that bare shoulder, to brush back the stray hair curling around her face.
"Careful," she teased softly, her voice low. "If the trees could talk, they'd be gossiping about us right now."
He groaned dramatically, cheeks burning hotter than the midday sun. "If trees talked, I'd beg them to keep quiet."
They shared a laugh that mingled with the rustling leaves. Sitting there, under the ancient oak, the summer heat didn't feel so unbearable anymore.
For a moment, time seemed to slow—just the two of them, caught in the warm embrace of the forest, hearts racing and breaths mingling.
Lin Xiao dared a glance at her lips, soft and inviting, and felt the wild hope that maybe, just maybe, this backward village might be the start of something new—something exciting.