Shanghai's morning light filtered through the skyscrapers, scattering golden fragments across the glass windows of the city. The spiritual energy woven into the atmosphere was strong today, buzzing with an invisible intensity that only cultivators could perceive. Yet Jigen, as always, walked through it unaffected, immune to its pull, indifferent to its hum.
He exited his family's penthouse and stepped into the elevator, his school bag slung over one shoulder. As the elevator descended, the walls reflected his calm, blank expression back at him. The boy in the mirror was an enigma even to himself. Not because he didn't understand who he was, but because he had to pretend not to.
When he stepped out into the marble lobby, the concierge bowed respectfully. "Young Master Jigen."
Jigen gave a slight nod. "Morning."
The air outside was crisp, and his car waited as usual, a sleek black vehicle humming with subtle spiritual arrays embedded into its engine. The driver, an old cultivator once loyal to Jigen's grandfather, opened the door.
"To school, sir?"
"Yes, Mr. Lu."
The drive was mostly silent. Skyscrapers passed by, spiritual beasts soared high overhead like birds, and cultivators glided through the sky on swords or talismans. Billboards glowed with animated texts: New Pill Formula for Lightning Body! Only 89 Spirit Coins! or Join the Azure Dragon Sect's Internship Program Today!
But none of it drew Jigen's interest.
He arrived at school and stepped out, greeted by the usual wave of whispers.
"That's him." "The powerless heir." "Isn't he embarrassed to be here?" "He's friends with Akai, right? She's totally out of his league."
Jigen ignored it all.
Today's first class was Cultivation History and Geopolitics, a surprisingly interesting course because it detailed the rise and fall of ancient empires powered by spiritual warfare. The instructor, a wrinkled woman with a cane that doubled as a spirit artifact, stood at the head of the class.
"Open to page 144," she croaked. "We're discussing the collapse of the Crimson Lotus Dynasty."
Jigen turned the page slowly, but his mind wandered. He could recite the chapter by memory. After all, he was there when it happened. Watching from the shadows. Letting things fall as they must.
Across from him, Akai glanced sideways.
"You're spaced out again," she whispered.
"I know."
"Want to skip class and get something to eat after this?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you worried about attendance?"
"Rules are for people who get caught."
He almost smiled. Almost.
The bell rang an hour later, and the two of them slipped out through the back courtyard instead of heading to their next class. Akai led him to a hidden ramen stand near the outskirts of the campus, run by an old man who looked like he had survived three cultivation wars.
"Two miso bowls," Akai said, sliding into a wooden stool.
"Make mine with extra bamboo," Jigen added.
The old man gave them a toothless grin and got to work.
"So," Akai started, sipping the tea provided, "do you ever feel out of place here?"
Jigen looked at her, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"I mean this world. This school. This life. Sometimes I feel like it's just a layer over something deeper, like we're all wearing masks."
He stirred his tea slowly.
"Maybe that's because everyone is wearing a mask," he replied.
She leaned closer. "Including you?"
He didn't answer. Just then, the ramen arrived, steaming and fragrant.
"Thanks, Old Man Riku," Akai said cheerfully.
"Eat up, young blood. Growing cultivators need their nutrients."
As they ate, Jigen looked up at the sky. Somewhere far beyond the clouds, he could sense forces stirring. Forces he once tamed.
But here and now, he just slurped noodles.
"You're weird," Akai said after a moment.
"Takes one to know one."
She laughed.
They spent the rest of the lunch hour wandering through a quiet park on the edge of the city, watching kids duel with spirit puppets and tiny summoned beasts. Akai reached into her jacket and handed him a photo.
"This is me when I was seven. I had short hair back then. Weird, right?"
He looked at it and nodded. "You looked... fierce."
"I punched a sect elder for calling me a brat. Broke his nose."
Jigen chuckled. "And they didn't exile you?"
"They tried," she smirked. "My dad threatened to burn their sacred tree."
Jigen handed the photo back. "Remind me not to make you angry."
"Too late for that."
They returned to class before the afternoon sessions began. The rest of the day passed uneventfully until the final bell. But just as Jigen was packing up his things, he noticed a slip of paper on his desk. No name. Just a message:
Meet me behind the library at dusk. Alone.
He crumpled it casually and slid it into his pocket.
Akai noticed. "What was that?"
"Nothing. Just trash."
She narrowed her eyes but didn't push.
Later, as the sun dipped behind the horizon and shadows stretched across the campus, Jigen walked alone to the rear courtyard behind the ancient library.
A boy stood waiting. Not a student. Older. Maybe twenty. Wearing the robes of a minor sect Jigen didn't recognize.
"You're Jigen?"
"That's what they call me."
"You're not what I expected."
"People rarely are."
The man stepped closer. "We know who you are. What you really are. You can pretend to be ordinary, but some of us can smell the lie."
Jigen remained silent.
"My sect wants to offer you a position. Not as a student. As a shadow consultant."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then we keep watching. Eventually, you'll slip."
Jigen turned to leave. "Good luck."
"Oh, and one more thing," the man called. "The girl, Akai. She's not what she seems either. Keep your eyes open, Emperor."
That name.
He froze for a second. Then walked away.
As the city lights came on and darkness fell, Jigen returned to his penthouse and stood by his window, gazing over the city. He could still feel the note in his pocket, like a phantom weight.
He whispered to himself, "How many more masks must I wear before I forget my own face?"
Below, the world spun on, oblivious.
The bell rang at 3:00 PM, dismissing the final class of the day. Students stretched, packed their bags, and chattered noisily as they filtered out of the classroom. Jigen sat still in his seat, eyes fixed out the window, watching the clouds float lazily over the tall buildings of Shanghai City. The golden sunlight bathed everything in a warm glow, and for a moment, he felt like time had slowed.
Akai, already by his side, leaned over his desk. "You want to walk home together?" she asked casually, though her eyes betrayed anticipation.
Jigen blinked, pulling himself from his thoughts. "I have to go to the bookstore first."
"Then I'll come with you," she said without hesitation.
He didn't respond, but he didn't object either. The two exited the classroom together, their presence drawing stares—some envious, some curious. Jigen's quiet nature and Akai's dazzling, long white hair and strong-willed personality had become a regular point of interest among students.
As they stepped out of the academy gates, the city buzzed with life. Skycars zoomed overhead, cultivators flew from rooftop to rooftop, and vendors on the street shouted about their magical wares. But Jigen moved through it all like a shadow, unimpressed and unbothered.
"So what book are you looking for?" Akai asked as they turned onto a quieter street lined with ancient tea shops and floating scroll stalls.
"Historical philosophy," he replied.
"You read those things for fun?"
"They help me think," he said simply.
Akai laughed softly. "You really are weird. But I like that."
They reached the bookstore—a quaint, old structure sandwiched between two cultivation gear shops. Inside, the scent of old paper filled the air. Jigen disappeared into the back aisles while Akai browsed the fiction section, occasionally sneaking glances at him.
After purchasing a thick tome titled The Way of the Silent Mind, they walked in comfortable silence. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows as lanterns blinked on across the city.
"Hey, Jigen," Akai said as they reached the park near their neighborhood, "You ever think about what you'll do after school?"
He paused. "Not really."
"Come on, you've got to have dreams or something. Travel the world? Become a cultivator someday?"
He looked at her, expression unreadable. "Why would I want to be a cultivator?"
Akai tilted her head. "That's the first time I've heard someone say that. It's like… the goal of half the world."
Jigen shrugged. "It doesn't interest me."
They sat on a bench by a koi pond. Akai tapped her fingers on the wood, hesitating.
"You know," she said, voice quieter, "You never talk about your past. Where you grew up, your parents, your hobbies—besides books. It's like you've wrapped yourself in a cloak of mystery."
He chuckled lightly. "Maybe I have."
Akai turned toward him. "Are you hiding something?"
There was a moment of silence. Jigen's gaze stayed fixed on the rippling water.
"Aren't we all?" he said.
She smiled, sensing she wouldn't get more from him today. "You're right. But eventually, I'll figure you out."
They walked home under the dim stars. When they arrived at the corner where their paths split, Akai paused.
"Thanks for today," she said.
"You followed me," Jigen replied.
"Still counts," she grinned.
He nodded slightly and turned. But before he could take more than two steps, Akai called out.
"Jigen. You're not alone, you know. Even if you want to be."
He stopped. For a heartbeat, the wind seemed to still. He glanced back over his shoulder, his expression unreadable.
"I know," he said softly, and walked away.
—
Back home, his mother, Xian Ni, greeted him with a smile. "Welcome home, sweetheart. Dinner's almost ready."
His father, Jiang Su, sat in the study, reading. "You were out late today."
"Bookstore," Jigen replied.
Jiang Su gave a knowing nod. "And the girl?"
"Persistent."
"You like that?"
Jigen gave a faint smirk. "I tolerate it."
They shared a small laugh. Xian Ni peeked in. "She sounds nice. Don't be too cold to her."
He didn't reply.
That night, as he lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, his mind drifted.
He recalled the moment in the bathroom weeks ago. Her eyes were serious—daring. Most would be afraid to stand that close to him. But she wasn't. She didn't know what he was. What he could do. And that fascinated her.
His fingers brushed the page of The Way of the Silent Mind, but his mind wasn't on the words. It was on Akai.
She was pulling him into the world—slowly, stubbornly. And for now, he would let her.
But only for now.