The silver taxi pulled to a smooth stop in front of a nondescript, slightly dilapidated apartment building on the outskirts of the city center. The journey was over. The hum of the engine faded, leaving an awkward silence in its wake. Su Yang looked at the familiar, shabby entrance, a place that had once represented the ceiling of his ambitions. Now, it felt like a museum exhibit of his former life.
"Here we are," Wei Lan said, her voice soft. She offered a kind smile. "You sure you're okay? You still look a little... shaken up."
"I'll be fine," Su Yang replied, offering a grateful smile in return. "Thank you, Ms. Wei. Truly. I just need to get inside and... well, figure everything out." He made a show of patting his empty pockets, the picture of a man who had lost everything. "Wait here, just for a moment. I'll be right back with your fare. I promise."
Wei Lan waved a dismissive hand. "Really, it's not—"
"I insist," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. It was not the voice of a lost hiker, but something firmer, more definitive. It brooked no dissent. Surprised by the sudden shift in his demeanor, Wei Lan simply nodded.
Su Yang got out of the car and approached the building's main door. He reached for his keychain out of pure habit, his fingers finding nothing but ragged fabric. Right. Lost in the river. He could have easily channeled a strand of Qi into the lock mechanism, feeling for the tumblers and manipulating them with precision to snap it open. But that felt unnecessarily flashy. Instead, he applied a minuscule amount of physical strength, a focused pressure from his thumb and forefinger on the old, cheap lock. There was a soft, metallic *crack* from within the mechanism, audible only to him, and the door swung open. To any observer, it would have looked like he'd simply pushed a faulty lock.
He took the stairs two at a time, his movements silent and efficient. His apartment was on the third floor. The same story repeated itself at his own door—a slight application of force to the weak locking mechanism, and he was in.
The apartment was exactly as he had left it over a month ago, but seen through new eyes. It was small, spartan, and achingly impersonal. A single room served as living, sleeping, and dining area, with a tiny kitchenette and an even smaller bathroom attached. A fine layer of dust covered every surface. It smelled of stale air and forgotten dreams.
He went straight to the small, locked metal box he kept hidden under a loose floorboard near his bed—a habit from his paranoid orphan days. Another trivial application of force popped the cheap lock. Inside was his emergency fund: a stack of cash, his spare identification, and a few other documents. He took the entire stack of bills. It wasn't a fortune, but it was more than enough to cover a taxi fare from the mountains a hundred times over.
He was about to leave when he paused. Wei Lan had looked exhausted. The deep weariness in her eyes had been more than just a long shift; it was the cumulative fatigue of a hard life. She had shown him kindness. The least he could do was offer a moment's respite.
He hurried back downstairs. Wei Lan was still there, her head leaning back against the headrest, her eyes closed. She looked peaceful in her exhaustion. He tapped gently on the window.
She jolted awake, blinking rapidly. "Oh! You're back. That was fast."
"Here," Su Yang said, handing her the entire stack of cash through the window. "For the fare, and for your kindness."
Wei Lan's eyes widened at the amount. "This is... this is way too much! The fare wasn't nearly this—"
"Please," he interrupted gently. "Take it. For your daughter's books." He saw the protest dying on her lips at the mention of her daughter. "And... you look tired. Would you like to come up for a quick cup of coffee? It's the least I can offer."
Wei Lan hesitated, her practical nature warring with her fatigue. "Oh, no, I couldn't. I should get home. I have another early shift tomorrow..." As if on cue, a huge, involuntary yawn overtook her. She covered her mouth, a flush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. "Oh, goodness. I'm so sorry."
Su Yang smiled. "It's settled then. One cup. It'll help you stay awake for the drive home."
Defeated by her own body's betrayal, and perhaps a little curious about this strangely compelling young man, she finally nodded. "Alright. Just one quick cup. Thank you."
She locked the cab and followed him up to his apartment. She looked around the sparse room with a neutral expression, a professional driver used to seeing all kinds of living situations.
"Make yourself at home," Su Yang said, gesturing to the small couch. "It won't take a moment."
He moved to the kitchenette and put the kettle on. As it heated, he prepared two simple cups with instant coffee granules. From his spatial ring, hidden by a slight turn of his body, he retrieved two tiny, dried leaves from a low-level spirit herb known as "Waking Willow." It was utterly insignificant in the world of cultivation, barely a step above a mundane plant, but its properties were perfect for this: a gentle, natural boost to immunity and stamina, with no side effects. He crumbled a minuscule amount into Wei Lan's cup.
He handed her the mug. "Here. Hopefully this helps a little."
"Thank you," she said, taking a grateful sip. "You're very kind." She took another sip, then her eyes traveled over his ruined clothes again. "You know, Su Yang, I don't mean to overstep, but... aren't you uncomfortable in those? They're practically falling off you, and they must be chafing terribly."
Su Yang looked down at himself. He had been so focused on other things he'd barely noticed. The suit was a symbol of his past humiliation, a second skin of failure. "It's... all I have left at the moment," he said, which was technically true in this apartment.
"Well, you can't sleep in that," she said with a motherly firmness that was both embarrassing and endearing. "You need to get out of those rags, take a proper shower, and get some rest. Do you have any other clothes here?"
"Just some sleepwear," he said.
"Then that's what you should be wearing," she stated. "Not that... souvenir from your hike."
Her practicality broke through his nostalgia. She was right. The Su Yang who wore that suit was dead. It was time to let the past go. "You're absolutely right," he said with a decisive nod. "I'll throw them out. Would you excuse me for a moment? I'll just take a quick shower to wash off the grime."
"Of course," Wei Lan said, taking another sip of the surprisingly revitalizing coffee. "Take your time. I'll finish this and see myself out."
Su Yang gathered his old sleepwear—a simple cotton t-shirt and shorts—and disappeared into the small bathroom, closing the door behind him but not engaging the lock. The lock, like the others in the building, was cheap and notoriously unreliable, often sticking or failing to catch properly.
The hot water felt good on his skin, washing away the last physical remnants of his journey. As he relaxed, a sense of profound well-being settled over him. The Harmonic Convergence Art thrummed contentedly within his dantian, the pure Yang energy within him circulating vigorously, responding to his relaxed state and the stimulating hot water. Unthinkingly, he began to hum an old, half-remembered tune his grandfather had sung to him, a simple folk melody. The sound, amplified by the small tiled room, carried a subtle, harmonious energy.
Outside, Wei Lan finished her coffee. She felt oddly rejuvenated, the deep fatigue replaced by a gentle warmth and alertness. It was the best cup of coffee she'd ever had. She looked at the clock on the wall. It was getting late. She should go.
She stood up and walked to the bathroom door. The humming inside had stopped, replaced by the sound of the shower being turned off. She raised her hand to knock, to call out a quick goodbye through the door.
"Su Yang? I'm heading out now. Thank you for the coffee!" she said, her hand accidentally pressing against the door as she spoke.
The faulty latch, jostled by her pressure, gave way with a soft *click*.
The door swung inward.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Steam billowed out from the bathroom, carrying with it the clean scent of soap and something else... something electric, primal, and intensely magnetic.
Wei Lan's brain tried to process the scene before her. Su Yang was standing by the sink, a towel in his hands, but he had not yet wrapped it around his waist. He was turned slightly towards the door, caught mid-movement.
And her eyes, entirely against her will, were drawn downward. Her mind, usually so practical and composed, simply short-circuited.
It wasn't just the sheer, shocking size and magnitude of what she was seeing, though that was enough to stun her into a statue-like state. It was the *energy*. The pure, potent, almost visible Yang energy that seemed to radiate from him, from his entire form, but most intensely from that specific, awe-inspiring part of his anatomy. It was like staring at the sun—you knew you shouldn't, you knew it was dangerous, but you couldn't look away. It was a soaring dragon, proud and magnificent, pulsing with a vitality that was almost otherworldly. A unique, captivating pheromone, a side effect of his legendary Yin-Yang Creation Body and his heightened cultivation, washed over her, clouding her rational thought with a sudden, dizzying wave of raw attraction.
She stood there, frozen, for what felt like an eternity, her eyes wide, her face flushing a deep, mortified crimson. She was a grown woman, a mother, a divorcee—she was not some blushing virgin. But she had never, in her entire life, seen or even imagined such a... such a *phenomenon*. And the worst part was the gluttonous, hungry way she was staring, her mind refusing to send the signal to her eyes to close.
Su Yang, for his part, moved with a preternatural calm. There was no panic, no shout. He simply and smoothly brought the towel around his waist, covering himself, his expression one of mild surprise but no anger.
The movement broke the spell.
Wei Lan jolted as if electrocuted. Her brain reconnected to her mouth, which was hanging open. "I—! The door—! It just—! I was leaving! Goodbye!"
The words tumbled out in a incoherent, high-pitched rush. Without waiting for a response, without even daring to look at his face, she spun around and practically fled the apartment. She clattered down the three flights of stairs faster than she thought possible, her heart hammering against her ribs like a wild bird, her cheeks burning with a fire that had nothing to do with the coffee.
She fumbled with her car keys, her hands shaking, and finally managed to get the door open and collapse into the driver's seat. She started the engine and pulled away from the curb with a squeal of tires, driving away from that apartment building as if demons were chasing her.
All she could see burned onto the back of her eyelids was the image of the dragon. And all she could feel was a confusing, overwhelming whirlwind of embarrassment, shock, and a deep, thrilling, utterly forbidden ache she hadn't felt in years.
Upstairs, Su Yang stood in his bathroom, a faint, wry smile touching his lips. He had not intended that. The pheromonal aura of his body was something he had yet to learn to fully control. He finished drying off and dressed in his simple sleepwear.
He looked at the stack of cash still sitting on his table. He had failed to give it to her. But as he felt the faint, lingering echo of her flustered energy in the room, he knew this would not be the last time their paths crossed. The threads of karma had been woven, tighter and more complicated than ever.