Li Yuan woke before dawn.
Not because of sound or light, but because something in the air around him had changed. Something subtle, yet impossible to ignore.
He sat at the mouth of the cave, still in the cross-legged posture from the night before. His body was not stiff despite sleeping on bare stone—rather, he felt strangely refreshed, as if he had awoken from the deepest rest in the most comfortable bed.
But what truly roused him was the awareness of his breath.
Every exhalation felt… different.
Not heavier or lighter. Not faster or slower. But the quality had changed—like the same water flowing through a different river.
Li Yuan closed his eyes and focused on it.
Inhale.
Air entered, yet it was more than air. He felt… the freshness of a morning not yet begun, the dampness of dew about to fall, the cautious alertness of a bird about to search for food, the stillness of stones that had stood for millennia.
Exhale.
Air left, carrying with it the silence of last night, the peace from meeting Xiao Mei, and the new understanding that his breath was no longer his alone.
Li Yuan opened his eyes in sudden realization.
His breath was now connected to the world.
Not as a poetic notion, but literally. Each inhalation drew in the resonance of the surrounding life; each exhalation released the resonance of his Zhenjing.
He was breathing with the world, not merely in it.
To test this, Li Yuan rose and stepped outside the cave.
Dawn had just touched the eastern horizon, turning the sky from black to deep blue tinged with gold.
Li Yuan stood on the hillside, breathing slowly.
Inhale.
He felt the cool morning air, but also… the unease of a deer in the distance, wary of predators. The weariness of a night bird that had yet to rest. The quiet readiness of trees awaiting the sun.
Exhale.
And then he saw something that made him pause.
The distant deer stopped running and turned toward him. The restless night birds settled calmly on branches. Even the morning wind seemed to move in a gentler, steadier rhythm.
They are matching their breath to mine, Li Yuan realized, struck by both awe and unease.
This was not something he consciously did. It happened on its own—an effortless consequence of the Breath understanding having entered Ganjing.
Li Yuan tried breathing faster.
The surrounding wind began to stir more sharply. Leaves rustled with agitation. Birds began to chirp in higher, quicker tones.
Li Yuan slowed his breath again.
Everything calmed.
This is dangerous, he thought.
Not dangerous in the sense of harming anyone, but because he could not turn it off. The Breath understanding within Ganjing worked continuously, even without his intention.
And worse—if his breath carried anxiety or fear, the world around him would feel it.
He would need to learn not only how to breathe correctly, but how to be the right kind of breath.
Footsteps made him turn.
An old merchant was climbing the slope, pulling a small creaking cart. The man was panting heavily, clearly exhausted after walking through the night.
When he saw Li Yuan, he paused.
"A beautiful morning," he said, still catching his breath.
"Yes," Li Yuan replied. "Have you traveled far?"
"From Shiliu Village. Still three days to Nanping City." The man wiped the sweat from his brow. "But strangely, since this morning, breathing feels easier. Like the air is somehow… fresher."
Li Yuan studied him. Indeed, the man's breath was already steadier, no longer the ragged gasps of a moment ago.
"Perhaps it's just the morning air," Li Yuan said.
"Perhaps." The man smiled. "Or perhaps it's meeting someone as calm as you. Odd, but your presence makes it feel… easier to breathe."
After the merchant continued on, Li Yuan stood alone on the slope.
The sun had now fully risen, bathing the air in warm gold. Yet it was not the sun's warmth that stayed with him—it was the warmth in his chest at hearing the merchant's words.
"Your presence makes it easier to breathe."
That was the truth. The Breath understanding in Ganjing had not only changed the way Li Yuan breathed—it was changing the way the world breathed around him.
And that was a responsibility he had never anticipated.
Li Yuan sat again, this time on a large rock facing south—toward the State of Lu.
He closed his eyes and entered his Zhenjing.
There, the space of Breath understanding now glowed with a soft light. Not blazing like fire, but like dew catching the morning sun. It pulsed with a steady rhythm, like a heartbeat or waves brushing against a shore.
Water still flowed around it—clear, calm, accepting. Silence still stretched wide—deep, protective, spacious. The other understandings were still present, each with its own distinct nature.
But now, Breath was the harmony between them all—like the wind carrying the scent of one flower to another.
Every breath is a prayer, Li Yuan understood with new clarity.
Every inhale is gratitude.
And every pause in between is a space where the world can rest.
With this, Li Yuan began breathing differently. He didn't change the rhythm or depth—but the intention behind each breath.
Each inhale: Thank you for the life I am borrowing.
Each exhale: May this calm flow to whoever needs it.
Each pause: A space for the world to breathe.
The effects were subtle, yet he could feel them.
Around him, the air seemed… more alive. Not in movement, but in richness—like the difference between plain water and water from a mountain spring.
The birds began to sing more sweetly—not louder, but in greater harmony, as if each voice belonged to the same unseen song.
The wind moved with deliberate rhythm—not stronger or weaker, but more… purposeful. As if it knew where it was going and why.
Even the sunlight felt different—warmer without glare, brighter without strain.
Li Yuan opened his eyes and saw something that made him smile.
Around the stone where he sat, small wildflowers had begun to bloom. Flowers that had been tightly closed just that morning now opened their petals to greet the sun.
It was no coincidence. His breath—now carrying the calm of his Zhenjing—was creating conditions more welcoming to life.
But with such power came responsibility.
Li Yuan rose and picked up his pack.
But before continuing, he performed a practice he always used when a new understanding entered Ganjing.
Wrapping.
He sat once more, closing his eyes and entering Zhenjing with clear intent.
The space of Breath still pulsed steadily, radiating its subtle, constant resonance. Too strong to leave fully open—especially when walking into lands heavy with tension and fear.
He called upon the understanding of Wrapping—an older Ganjing insight—to help.
Like a gentle yet firm hand, Wrapping began to sheath the resonance of Breath. Not to smother it—such a thing was impossible—but to moderate its reach.
Li Yuan pictured Breath as a campfire. Left bare, its warmth would spread without limit, burning where it need not burn. Wrapped carefully, it would still give warmth—only to those who truly needed it.
The process did not take long, but required full focus. Li Yuan gauged the thickness carefully—enough to shield those not ready for the full resonance, yet thin enough that those in need could still receive it.
When he opened his eyes, he felt the difference immediately.
His breath was still connected to the world, but now in a more… controlled way. Like a voice whose volume had been lowered without losing tone.
The birds still sang in harmony, but no longer attuned solely to his rhythm. The wind still moved with calm, but without echoing his every change.
Most importantly, Li Yuan knew he could walk among people without affecting them too strongly by accident. The merchant from earlier might still feel a bit of ease in breathing, but not so much as to notice anything unusual.
Wrapping is not hiding, Li Yuan reminded himself. It is protecting—both the world from my influence, and my understanding from a world not yet ready.
With Breath now wrapped just right, Li Yuan was ready to move on.
It was time to head toward the State of Lu. But now he walked with a different awareness, and a wiser caution.
Each step he took would carry the influence of his breath to new places. Each person he met would feel the resonance of an understanding that had crossed into Ganjing.
He could no longer disappear into the crowd as before—breath is the sign of life, and his breath was now bound to the breath of the world.
But perhaps that was what this war-bound world needed.
Perhaps what it needed was not someone hidden, but someone whose mere presence—even if small—could make it easier for others to breathe.
Li Yuan descended the hillside.
In the distance, the road southward stretched before him, leading to the State of Lu—where war would break out in two months.
But for now, he focused on each step. On each breath. On each chance to offer calm to a world growing restless.
The birds followed him for a time before flying their separate ways. The flowers he passed turned their faces more boldly toward the sun.
And somewhere, perhaps, the old merchant walked on with lighter breath—never knowing why the day felt easier than the last.
Li Yuan smiled in silence.
One more understanding had entered Ganjing.
And the world, little by little, was learning to breathe more peacefully.
Even with the storm already on the horizon.