The afternoon sun filtered softly through the open window, casting a golden hue over the wooden floor. The rhythmic sound of a needle piercing fabric filled the quiet space, accompanied by the occasional rustling of paper as Feiyin turned the pages of his book. He sat cross-legged beside his mother, his eyes scanning the text before him, but his focus occasionally drifted toward her hands.
Mei Liao's fingers moved deftly, threading fine silver and purple strands through black fabric, her motions precise, graceful. Every stitch she made was intentional, forming intricate patterns that shimmered when the light caught them just right.
"You're making a new robe?" Feiyin finally asked, glancing up from his book.
Mei Liao hummed in response, the barest of smiles playing on her lips. "For you."
Feiyin blinked in surprise before his gaze dropped to the fabric in her hands. Now that he looked at it closely, he recognized the details, black silk, embroidered with silver and purple. The colors suited him, matching the shade of his eyes, the dark threads mirroring the deep hues of his hair.
A warm feeling bloomed in his chest.
"You don't have to, "
"I want to." Mei Liao interrupted, her voice gentle yet firm. "You've been training hard, and you're growing. Soon, you'll need something new to wear that fits you properly."
Feiyin's lips twitched, touched by the gesture, but he said nothing. Instead, he turned back to his book, though his eyes lingered on the methodical movement of his mother's hands.
After a few moments, he spoke again. "How does it work? Sewing, I mean."
Mei Liao glanced at him, amusement flickering in her eyes. "You're interested in sewing now?"
Feiyin shrugged. "I just think it's interesting how a few threads can form something as strong as a robe."
His mother's smile widened, her hands never pausing in their work. "It's quite simple, really. A single thread on its own isn't much, it can break easily, tangle, or fray. But when you use a needle to thread it through fabric, stitch by stitch, you build something stronger." She lifted her work slightly, showing him the patterns she had woven. "Threads that are connected closely hold more tightly, while those that stretch too far apart become loose, fragile."
Feiyin watched the needle pierce the fabric, pulling the delicate thread behind it. His mind absorbed the motion, the rhythm, the technique.
And then, a sudden realization struck him.
His eyes widened slightly as his mind connected the dots.
'This… resembles oscillations.'
He had always seen how different materials had their own unique vibrations, steel had closely knit oscillations, tightly bound, making it firm and unyielding. On the other hand, silk had looser oscillations, its frequencies more spread apart, allowing it to move fluidly, softly.
The way the needle led the thread, firmness guiding softness, reminded him of Yang and Yin. Yang was solid, structured, decisive, the needle. Yin was adaptable, yielding, flowing, the thread.
A spark ignited in his mind.
'If the needle represents Yang, and the thread represents Yin… then could I apply the same principle to inner strength?'
The thought set his pulse racing.
He set his book aside, exhaling slowly as he focused inward, calling upon his inner strength.
Mei Liao, noticing the shift in his demeanor, arched an eyebrow. "What are you doing, my little scholar?"
Feiyin didn't answer immediately. His gaze was fixed on the needle in his mother's hand as he tried to replicate the concept within himself.
He first gathered his inner strength into a single point, attempting to form a sharp and firm "needle", a focused force that could lead the rest of his energy. But the moment he tried to push it forward, the energy scattered, dispersing like loose thread slipping from a fabric.
He frowned.
'No, it's too unrefined.'
He tried again, visualizing it more clearly in his mind. The needle must be firm, the thread must follow smoothly. It wasn't just about shaping energy; it was about guiding it with intent.
His brows furrowed in concentration as he formed a more defined point of energy, letting the rest of his inner strength follow in a softer, controlled stream. He could feel it starting to take shape.
But the moment he tried to move it forward, it collapsed again.
Feiyin let out a sharp exhale, frustration creeping in like a thorn lodged beneath his skin. His fingers curled against his palm, the remnants of his inner strength dispersing into nothing. He had grasped the concept, it made sense in his mind, but when he tried to apply it, the energy refused to flow as he envisioned.
His mother's steady rhythm of needlework had continued without pause, the soft pull of thread whispering through the fabric. But now, she set the sewing down on her lap, her eyes sharp yet kind as they settled on him.
"You seem rather focused," she remarked, tilting her head.
Feiyin inhaled deeply, trying to steady himself before turning to her, his emotions a tangled mix of excitement and irritation. "I'm trying to shape my inner strength like the way you sew."
Mei Liao's fingers hovered briefly over the fabric, her gaze curious. "Like sewing?"
"Yes!" Feiyin sat up straighter, gesturing toward her hands. "The needle is firm, it leads the way. The thread is soft, it follows. But if the needle is too weak, the thread loses its path. If the thread is too stiff, it can't be woven properly." His hands clenched as he struggled to explain the sensation bubbling inside him. "I was thinking about how Yin and Yang work together, and how I can apply it to my inner strength. I'm trying to form a solid force that can guide a softer one, like a needle guiding thread." He let out a huff of frustration. "But I can't get it to work properly."
For a brief moment, silence settled between them, the only sound the occasional pop of burning wood from the nearby brazier.
Then, unexpectedly, Mei Liao chuckled.
Feiyin's brows scrunched in mild annoyance. "Why are you laughing?"
She reached out and gently ruffled his hair, her touch light, affectionate. "Because you're brilliant, that's why."
Feiyin blinked, caught off guard. "Huh?"
"You just took something as mundane as sewing and used it to understand Yin and Yang, as well as inner strength application." She smiled, shaking her head in disbelief. "Even I, at my cultivation level, never thought to look at it that way."
Feiyin frowned slightly, her words sinking in. He had understood something new, something different.
Mei Liao set her sewing aside entirely now, leaning forward slightly. "Let me see how you're doing it."
Feiyin nodded, his pulse quickening as he focused inward once more.
His breath steadied.
He closed his eyes and recalled the image in his mind.
The needle, sharp and unwavering, piercing through fabric with confidence.
The thread, following smoothly, weaving into a complete form.
Firmness guiding softness. Strength guiding flexibility.
He gathered his inner strength, forming a solid point, a sharp, firm "needle." This time, he made sure it was stable, unyielding, no longer crumbling upon itself. Once the structure held firm, he allowed the rest of his energy to follow, soft yet controlled, the thread.
At first, the energy wavered, unstable, like silk strands slipping through unsteady fingers. Feiyin grit his teeth, adjusting, molding the flow as he went.
'The thread must follow the needle, not scatter aimlessly.'
He focused on the rhythm of his mother's sewing, the way the needle moved with intent, never erratic, always with purpose. The image anchored him.
Slowly… the flow steadied.
He felt it, the balance between guiding and yielding, firmness and flexibility. His entire being tingled with the sensation of control, something deeper than just moving energy, he was shaping it.
A sudden, bright grin broke across his face.
"I did it!"
His exclamation startled Mei Liao, making her jolt slightly before she let out another laugh. "You certainly did."
Feiyin turned to her, excitement practically radiating from him. "Mom, this method, can you use it too? Since you have a more refined control over inner strength, wouldn't this help you guide it more precisely?"
Mei Liao's smile faltered, her expression shifting into something more contemplative.
She had perfected her inner strength control over decades, using spiritual sense to refine even the most delicate movements of her energy. Yet, as she turned Feiyin's explanation over in her mind, she realized that this discovery could refine her control even further.
Astonishment flickered across her face.
"…You're right," she murmured, staring at him in disbelief. "Even I can use this."
Feiyin beamed, pride swelling in his chest.
Mei Liao studied him for a moment before shaking her head, truly impressed. "Your father trains your body. I teach you about the world. But here you are, teaching us both something new." She flicked his forehead playfully. "Aren't you growing up too fast?"
Feiyin rubbed his forehead, laughing softly. "Maybe just a little."
Mei Liao sighed dramatically, shaking her head as she picked up her sewing again. "At this rate, you'll surpass us all before you even step into the next realm."
Feiyin smirked. "That's the plan."
She rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress the warmth in her expression. "Well then, my little genius, are you going to keep practicing, or are you going to sit there grinning at me all evening?"
Feiyin exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders before settling his focus inward again. "Practicing."
His mother chuckled, resuming her sewing, her fingers moving with the same steady, deliberate rhythm.
As Feiyin continued, he let the pulse of her movements guide him, syncing his breathing with the soft pull of thread, the piercing of the needle.