The acquisition of the stolen manuscript from the Dai Temple had ignited a new spark in Li Wei's cultivation, its cryptic diagrams and herbal recipes reinforcing his belief that he was uncovering the secrets of the Immortal's Library. The hidden valley, with its ancient tree and shimmering pool, pulsed with an energy that seemed to validate his path, the warmth in his dantian growing denser with each meditation. Azure Dragon, his scruffy spirit beast, remained a loyal companion, curling up beside the stone altar as Li Wei pored over the scroll and booklet, seeking the next step toward immortality. But a new passage in the scroll stirred an unexpected longing: "The heart, bound by mortal ties, may find harmony in love, yet beware—passion can sway the cultivator from the Dao."
In the cultivation novels Li Wei had devoured in his Beijing days, love was often a double-edged sword—a source of strength or a fatal distraction. The scroll's words were ambiguous, describing a "union of hearts" that could balance qi through shared emotion, but warning of "entanglements that bind the spirit to the mortal realm." Li Wei, alone in the valley save for Azure Dragon, had no one to share such a bond with, but the passage awakened a buried yearning. His life on Mount Tai had been solitary, his only connections the distant voices of the Order of the Jade Dawn. The idea of love, even a fleeting one, tugged at his heart, threatening to disrupt the focus he'd fought so hard to maintain.
One evening, as he meditated under the ancient tree, its glowing blossoms casting a soft light, Li Wei's thoughts drifted to a fantasy. He imagined a "fairy maiden," a figure from cultivation lore—ethereal, radiant with qi, her presence harmonizing with his own. Inspired, he pulled out his notebook, not to record qi techniques but to pour his longing into poetry. "Her eyes like stars, her breath the mist," he wrote, the words flowing as if guided by the valley's whispers. "Together we ascend, our qi entwined." The act was indulgent, a departure from his disciplined practice, but it felt necessary, a release for emotions he'd suppressed since leaving Beijing.
The next day, Li Wei ventured to the village at the foot of Mount Tai to charge his phone and connect with the Order. Old Chen, the gruff farmer, greeted him with a knowing smirk, handing over a bowl of rice. "You look lovesick, boy," Chen teased, noticing Li Wei's distracted air. Flustered, Li Wei brushed it off, but as he left the teahouse, a young woman approached—a villager named Mei Ling, who helped Chen with deliveries. She'd seen Li Wei before, his wild appearance and fervent talk of cultivation a curiosity in the village. "You dropped this," she said, holding out a crumpled page that had fallen from his notebook—one of his poems, its romantic verses stark against the dirt-streaked paper.
Li Wei's face burned as Mei Ling's eyes scanned the page, a shy smile playing on her lips. "This is beautiful," she said, her voice soft. "Is it for someone special?" Li Wei stammered, unsure how to explain that his "fairy maiden" was a figment of his imagination, a muse born of the scroll's cryptic words. Mei Ling, mistaking his hesitation for shyness, handed the poem back with a gentle laugh. "Keep writing. Maybe she'll find you." She walked away, leaving Li Wei clutching the page, his heart racing with a mix of embarrassment and intrigue.
Back in the valley, Li Wei couldn't shake Mei Ling's smile. She was no cultivator, just a village girl with kind eyes and calloused hands from farm work, but her brief interaction had stirred something in him. Was this the "union of hearts" the scroll described, or the dangerous entanglement it warned against? He tried to refocus, meditating with the jade slip and scroll, but his thoughts kept drifting to Mei Ling, her face blending with his imagined fairy maiden. In a moment of reckless inspiration, he wrote more poems, leaving them by the altar as offerings to the valley's spirits, hoping they might guide his heart.
During the next video call with the Order of the Jade Dawn, Li Wei hesitated to mention Mei Ling, fearing Zhang Wei's enthusiasm or Liu Mei's caution would complicate his feelings. Instead, he shared the scroll's passage on love, framing it as a theoretical challenge. Zhang Wei, ever the romantic, suggested that a "dual cultivation of the heart" could amplify qi, while Liu Mei warned of distractions: "The Dao is solitary. Love can anchor you to the mortal world." Li Wei nodded, his mind torn. He scribbled in his notebook: "Forbidden love stirs. Fairy maiden imagined, but mortal girl appears. Qi wavers, yet heart seeks harmony."
Under the valley's starry sky, Li Wei sat by the pool, Azure Dragon snoring softly nearby. The scroll's warnings echoed, but so did its promise of balance through love. Mei Ling was no fairy maiden, but her kindness had touched him, a reminder of the human connections he'd abandoned. He resolved to focus on his cultivation, to channel this longing into his qi, but a part of him hoped to see her again. The ancient tree's blossoms glowed, their whispers mingling with his poems, as if the valley itself was weighing his heart. The path to immortality was clear, but for the first time, Li Wei wondered if it could include another soul, mortal or not.