Three weeks after the residents' meeting, life in their small alley began to settle into the true rhythm of spring. The plum trees lining the path started to produce small white blossoms, and the air filled with a sweet fragrance carried by the morning breeze. Li Yuan walked towards the House of Words as he usually did, enjoying the warmth of the sun that was beginning to chase away the winter chill.
But that morning, something felt different.
Not in a worrying way—Li Yuan had learned to distinguish between "dangerous different" and "natural different." This one felt like a subtle shift in life's rhythm, like a breath changing from sleep to wakefulness.
A change of season, he thought, observing the young green shoots starting to emerge on the branches. Nature is preparing for a new cycle.
At the House of Words, Li Yuan was greeted by an unusual sight. Master Shen was standing in front of the bookshelves with an expression that looked... perplexed.
"Morning, Master Shen. Is there anything I can help you with?"
Master Shen turned with a bright face. "Ah, Qingshan! You've come just in time. I'm at a loss with... this."
He pointed to a wooden table filled with silk scrolls and several open books. "Yesterday afternoon, a messenger from the City Yamen came. They asked us to... how to put it... 'document valuable local traditions for the provincial archives.'"
Li Yuan approached the table and saw the official forms written in red ink—the mark of a government document. "Documenting local traditions?"
"Yes. They said the provincial government wants to make a record of customs, festivals, folklore, and local wisdom from every city and village." Master Shen scratched his head. "The intention is good, but... I don't know where to start. Which traditions are considered 'valuable'? And how do we write them down without losing their essence?"
Li Yuan studied the documents carefully. This wasn't an odd request—throughout history, dynasties had always made efforts to document folk culture, both for administrative purposes and to preserve heritage. But Master Shen's question was very valid: how to capture the essence of something alive in a dead form of writing?
"Perhaps," Li Yuan said slowly, "we can start with what is closest to the hearts of the Hexin community. The things they do because they believe they are important, not because they are required to."
"What do you mean?"
"The Mid-Spring Festival we'll be holding next week, for example. Why does that tradition exist? What does it mean to the people in our little alley?" Li Yuan picked up a brush and dipped it in ink. "Or the way Granny Zhou leads the residents' meetings. Or the custom of sharing food with each other. The small things that make Hexin... Hexin."
Master Shen's eyes lit up. "Yes! Not the grand things written in history books, but the things that are lived every day."
"And perhaps," Li Yuan added, starting to write with fluid movements, "we don't need to explain all the meaning. Just tell how the tradition is carried out, and let the reader feel for themselves why it is important."
That afternoon, Li Yuan returned to the alley with a strange feeling. This documentation task had made him reflect on something he had never realized before: how valuable the everyday life he was living truly was. For centuries, he had sought meaning in extraordinary things—spiritual breakthroughs, cosmic understanding, soul transformations. But now, he was asked to see meaning in the ordinary.
And strangely, he found that those "ordinary" things were just as rich, just as profound as the spiritual quests he had undertaken.
When he arrived in the alley, he saw Chen Wei sitting in front of his workshop, carving something with deep concentration.
"What are you making, Brother Chen?"
Chen Wei looked up with a smile. "Ah, Qingshan! You've come just in time. I'm making... this."
He showed him a small wooden carving that was almost finished—it was shaped like a blooming plum blossom, with very delicate details on each petal.
"For the Mid-Spring Festival?" Li Yuan asked, sitting on a small stool next to Chen Wei.
"Yes. I thought, this year we could make something... special. Not just eating and chatting, but something that can be remembered." Chen Wei showed several similar finished carvings. "I want to make one for every family in the alley. As... what is it... a keepsake that we celebrated spring together."
Li Yuan took one of the carvings and examined it with admiration. The technique was simple, but there was something in the way Chen Wei carved each line that made it feel... alive. As if the wooden flower would blossom at any moment.
"This is very beautiful, Brother Chen."
"Still rough." Chen Wei scratched his cheek shyly. "I'm not a great carver. It's just... for some reason, this year I feel like making something special."
"Why this year?" Li Yuan asked with curiosity.
Chen Wei was silent for a moment, his hands still moving rhythmically to carve. "Maybe because... you're here. Our alley feels more complete. Before, the festival was just a tradition we did because we were used to it. But now, it feels like we truly have a reason to celebrate."
Li Yuan felt a familiar warmth in his chest. "What do you mean?"
"It's hard to explain." Chen Wei smiled as he blew wood dust from his carving. "But since you've lived here, our alley has become... how should I say... more harmonious. The conflict between Master Zhou and Master Ma that you helped resolve, the way you listen to people's stories without judgment, the way you help in the garden even without experience... It feels like you brought something good."
A very subtle Ganjing Resonance, Li Yuan realized. Although he had carefully wrapped his eleven understandings in his abdomen—like light seeds vibrating gently in the warmth—the three exposed understandings still influenced his surroundings: the Body that allowed him to live as a human, the Existence that gave him a calming presence, and the Wrapper that concealed his true spiritual power. But the influence was so subtle that it felt natural, like part of his personality as Li Qingshan.
"Maybe it's because I'm happy to live here," Li Yuan answered honestly. "When someone feels at home, maybe it spreads to others."
"Yes, maybe." Chen Wei nodded as he returned his focus to his carving. "Oh, by the way, Sister Lin said she wants to invite you to cook for the festival. She said you need to learn to cook Hexin's signature dishes."
Li Yuan laughed. "I am ready to be a good student."
That afternoon, Li Yuan sat in the backyard of his house, trying to recall the details of life in the alley that might need to be documented for the government report. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that what made their life valuable wasn't the formal traditions, but the way they interacted with each other.
The way Granny Zhou always made sure no one was hungry by sharing her rice cakes. The way Chen Wei made furniture without being asked when he saw a neighbor in need. The way Sister Lin naturally became a bridge of communication between families. The way Master Shen shared wisdom without being preachy.
This is what is called living culture, he mused, listening to the sound of children playing in the alley. Not something that can be fully captured in writing, because it lives in daily interaction.
The sound of footsteps made him turn his head. Sister Lin appeared from behind the bamboo fence, carrying a basket of vegetables and a bright smile.
"Qingshan, what are you doing sitting alone? You look so serious?"
"I'm thinking about the task from Master Shen," Li Yuan replied, getting up to help Sister Lin with her basket. "About documenting local traditions."
"Oh, that!" Sister Lin laughed. "Chen Wei already told me. He said the government wants to make a record of our way of life."
"Doesn't Sister Lin think it's strange? Our everyday life is considered... a tradition that needs to be recorded?"
Sister Lin stopped for a moment and looked at Li Yuan with sparkling eyes. "You know, Qingshan? I'm actually happy. All this time, we just lived our lives without thinking that our way of life... is valuable. But if the government is going to record it, it means there's something good in the way we live as neighbors."
"Something good?"
"Yes. The way we help each other without being asked. The way we solve problems by sitting down and talking together. The way we celebrate small things like spring or a vegetable harvest." Sister Lin arranged the vegetables in her basket as she spoke. "Maybe in other places, people don't live like this. That's why it needs to be recorded."
Li Yuan fell silent, touched by Sister Lin's simple yet profound perspective. All this time, he had seen life in the alley as a sanctuary from the spiritual complexities he had once lived. But Sister Lin saw it as something unique and valuable in its own right.
"Sister Lin is right," Li Yuan said slowly. "Maybe we do live in a way that is... special."
"There you go!" Sister Lin patted Li Yuan's arm lightly. "That's why, tomorrow you'll come with me to cook for the festival. So you can know how special food made with your own hands for the people we love is."
That night, Li Yuan sat at his small table with a brush in his hand and an empty paper in front of him. He began to write a report on the traditions of Hexin, but what came out was not a formal description of rituals or ceremonies.
What he wrote was a story about a small alley where ten families lived like one big family. About a spring festival celebrated not because tradition required it, but because they wanted to share the joy of seeing new life grow. About the way they resolved conflicts by sitting together and listening to each other. About the plum blossom carving that Chen Wei made because he wanted to give something beautiful to his neighbors.
As he wrote, Li Yuan realized that he was documenting something far more valuable than ancient traditions or complicated rituals. He was recording how ordinary human beings could create a meaningful life through simple things: kindness, empathy, and a sincere presence for one another.
This is also a form of cultivation, he realized, writing the final sentence. The cultivation of humanity. And perhaps, this is the most difficult and most valuable form of cultivation.
When he finished writing, Li Yuan reread his report. There were no bombastic or complicated philosophical words. Just a simple story about a life lived with attention and affection.
Tomorrow, he thought, putting down the brush, I will learn to cook with Sister Lin. I will help Chen Wei finish his carvings. I will help prepare the festival that will make everyone smile.
And that will be a perfect day.
The night wind carried the scent of the blooming plum blossoms, and Li Yuan felt something he had long forgotten: a simple hope for the day that was to come. Not a hope for great spiritual achievements or a deep cosmic understanding, but a hope for the small moments that make life feel rich and meaningful.
That night, Li Yuan's dreams were filled with the color white—the white of the plum blossoms blooming in the spring, the white of the paper where he wrote the story of a beautiful life, the white of the smiles of the people who had become his family in the warm little alley.