It started with a hangover.
Not from alcohol — from spiritual exertion, bad posture, and two straight days of arguing with an ancient ghost about whether or not bubble tea counted as an elixir.
Li Jian sat at the kitchen table, eyes bloodshot, soul lightly traumatized, watching the rice cooker like it was a nuclear reactor about to go critical.
"Today," Elder Sheng Tai declared, floating just above the spice rack, "we refine your first pill."
Jian slumped forward. "Please tell me you don't mean actual drugs."
"Alchemy is the sacred art of transforming base materials into spiritual medicine."
"You said that last time. I still can't taste ginger candy without gagging."
"Last time was a test. This time… we commit fully."
Jian stared at the rice cooker. The lid was slightly cracked. A mysterious stain from a 2022 stew experiment still lingered near the hinge.
"This thing hasn't been cleaned in weeks."
"Good. A seasoned cauldron enhances the Qi blend."
"Or gives you salmonella."
"The Dao embraces all risk."
⸻
Sheng Tai handed down the ingredient list like it was divine scripture:
• One slice of fresh ginger
• Crushed mint leaves
• Half a vitamin C tablet
• A spoonful of honey
• A pinch of salt
• Three deep breaths
Jian squinted. "Are we making tea or a potion?"
"This is a beginner-level Vitality Pill. Ideal for weak mortals with sluggish Qi and decaying ambition."
"I feel very called out."
"Then you are ready."
He added the ingredients into the rice cooker with reverence — or at least, with vague caution. The water simmered gently. The mint floated like sad seaweed.
Jian stirred with a wooden chopstick.
"Recite the incantation."
"I don't know any incantations."
"Repeat after me: 'By fire, by breath, by Qi entwined… let strength arise from root and rind.'"
Jian blinked. "…Is this a recipe or a fantasy poem?"
"CHANT!"
"Fine, fine… 'By fire, by breath… by rind and whatever…'"
"Close enough."
⸻
Steam began to rise. The water bubbled. The scent was surprisingly pleasant — herbal, warm, slightly citrusy.
"Good. Now — ignite the alchemical flame!"
"…With what?"
"Use your Qi."
"I don't have Qi!"
"Then use a lighter."
Jian pulled out the old stove lighter and waved it solemnly over the rice cooker like a budget wizard with a Bic wand.
"Now stir widdershins."
"What's a widdershin?"
"Counterclockwise."
Jian tried to stir as instructed, but the rice cooker, sensing nonsense, gave a loud click and powered down.
"…Is it supposed to do that?"
"NO! The flame must not die!"
"I think the machine disagrees!"
The mixture boiled over. Froth hissed out from under the lid. A sweet-minty explosion launched droplets onto the ceiling.
A small spark flew from the charger cord and briefly singed Jian's bangs.
"YOU ARE DESTABILIZING THE PILL CORE!"
"I'M DESTABILIZING MY SANITY!"
⸻
Eventually, the mixture stopped fighting back. It simmered down into a thick, gluey paste — slightly blue, faintly sparkling, and suspiciously sentient.
"…It's breathing," Jian whispered.
"It lives. It is ready."
Jian scooped a tiny bit onto a spoon.
It smelled like toothpaste and hope.
He hesitated. "Are you sure this is safe?"
"Yes. Probably."
He gulped and it went down from his tongue to his esophagus then to his stomach.
⸻
The flavor hit him like a kung fu slap to the tongue.
Sweet. Then mint. Then salt. Then… electricity?
His whole body tensed.
His ears rang.
His vision flashed.
He briefly saw a dolphin wearing a scholar's hat whispering tax advice.
Then he collapsed, wheezing, into the sink.
"WHAT WAS THAT?!"
"A mild purification reaction. You are purging excess mortal toxins."
"I JUST VOMITED OUT MY LUNCH AND MY CHILDHOOD MEMORIES!"
"Then it is working."
⸻
Later that evening, Li Jian sat slumped on the couch, wrapped in a towel, sipping warm water while trying to forget the sensation of his Qi temporarily reverse-yeeting itself out of his spine.
"Not bad," Sheng Tai muttered, hovering beside him with a scroll made of app notes. "The pill's effect lasted for 2.3 seconds. During which, your blood flow increased, your pupils dilated, and your sarcasm decreased by 12%."
Jian groaned. "Never again."
"Oh no. Again. Many times. That was the basic Vitality Pill. You must attempt the Cleansing Pill next."
"I'd rather drink dish soap."
"Next week, we move to explosive pill recipes."
"I AM A MINOR!!!."
⸻
Just before bed, while brushing his teeth and trying not to pass out, Jian looked at himself in the mirror.
His cheeks were a little pink. His eyes… less tired. Maybe.
And weirdly, despite everything, he felt… slightly better?
A warmth in his chest. A buzzing in his palms.
Not pain or not even magic.
Just a spark.
Like maybe — maybe — there was something to this whole cultivation thing. Even if it smelled like spicy mint and burning cables.