The sun had only just begun its slow climb above the misty ridges of Mount Yu when the first bell of the Imperial Academy tolled across the city. The sound was melodic yet commanding, each strike a reminder of the academy's centuries-old prestige. For most students, that bell symbolized ambition and the start of a glittering future. For Li Wei, son of a humble farmer, it was simply another day where he would force himself to blend into the background.
He rose from the thin pallet in his small room at a cheap inn near the academy's southern quarter. His bed creaked, protesting as if it too disapproved of the early hour. Running a hand through his black hair, Li Wei yawned deliberately, reminding himself: Be slow. Be clumsy. The less memorable, the better. He pulled on the plainest student robe he owned—undyed gray, slightly frayed at the sleeves. His classmates often mocked others who failed to impress with flamboyant silk or ornate designs. Li Wei welcomed their laughter; in their eyes, he was dull, a boy better suited to carrying water buckets than pursuing cultivation.
But when he tightened the sash around his waist, his fingers moved with unconscious grace, revealing training honed through sleepless nights. His physique, though hidden beneath shapeless fabric, carried strength to rival the academy's finest disciples. If anyone noticed the subtle balance in his stance, the way each motion flowed like rippling water, they might suspect his secret. That was something he could never allow.
"Lame background character," he whispered amusedly to himself, recalling how his classmates labeled him. The words had become a shield—fitting, sturdy, and necessary.
Outside, the academy's main courtyard buzzed with activity. Students clustered in circles, exchanging news about yesterday's sparring matches, the latest gossip from the imperial capital, and arrogant boasts about breakthroughs in cultivation. Li Wei walked past the noise like a shadow. Bystanders eyed him once and lost interest, their attention pulled toward wealthier, more flamboyant scions. Exactly as he intended.
"Hey, look—it's that farmer's kid again," one noble-born student muttered with a smirk. "The academy sure is diluting its standards. What next? Letting beggars cultivate?"
A chorus of chuckles followed. Li Wei lowered his gaze, scratching his neck awkwardly as though embarrassed, then shuffled past with slumped shoulders. To the casual observer, he looked every bit a nervous commoner out of his depth. But inside, amusement flickered in his eyes. When he had arrived at the academy, arrogance and jealousy from such students had flared toward him like daggers. Over time, he learned that appearing meek, even cowardly, deflected most hostilities. Every insult strengthened his camouflage.
The giant bronze gates of the academy opened, leading into classrooms where instructors lectured on theory, talisman arts, and martial techniques. Li Wei entered quietly, choosing a seat at the very back. Only one or two bothered to sit near him. His table bore faint scratches from past classes, and he idly traced them with a finger, leaning in to half-listen.
At the front, Master Zhao conjured a flare of glowing symbols with a flick of his wrist. "The foundation of cultivation is not brute force but comprehension of cosmic balance," the old teacher intoned. "Remember this as your base—qi flows like water, restrained yet infinite." Gasps of admiration swept through the hall as the glowing runes danced across the air.
Li Wei watched silently, hiding a smile. Those same runes had once taken him three nights to fully unravel when he was a boy. Now, after years of secret training by moonlight, their structure was child's play. His fingers itched to correct Master Zhao's sloppy configuration, but he suppressed the urge. Sometimes ignorance was better armor than brilliance.
By midday, classes ended, giving students time to practice. Gongs rang through the open-air training grounds. The clatter of wooden practice swords echoed like rhythmic thunder. Li Wei had no intention of drawing attention during sparring. He deliberately misplaced footwork, letting wooden blades smack against his shoulder during mock-duels. Smirks and jeers followed. "Li Wei, you're hopeless! Even farm oxen could move better than you!" one tall student jeered.
Feigning a clumsy stumble, Li Wei landed flat on his back with a groan. The boys cackled, shaking their heads as they walked away. Hidden beneath his sleeve, Li Wei flexed his wrist, dispersing the tiny ripple of restrained qi he had called forth. A single flick would've disarmed his opponent, but that would have shattered his harmless image. So instead, he rolled in the dirt, face flushed with feigned embarrassment.
As the noise of sparring filled the grounds, Li Wei excused himself, claiming he felt unwell. No one cared enough to stop him. Exiting through a smaller gate, he found solitude in a grove of peach trees, their blossoms fragrant and pink against the afternoon sky. Here, away from the eyes of nobility and instructors, he finally allowed the mask to slip.
Seated cross-legged under a peach tree, Li Wei closed his eyes. A breath, slow and deep, channeled qi through his meridians. His faint, slouched aura transformed, expanding in silence until every blossom overhead trembled. The hum of hidden power filled the grove, subtle yet vast. Internal energy surged like a restrained ocean, bound tightly by his iron will. His cultivation method—learned from ancient scrolls buried in forgotten ruins—ran deeper than anything the Imperial Academy taught.
Here, he was no longer a background character. Here, he was a force waiting to be unmasked.
But he didn't want glory. Glory meant eyes on him, chains of responsibility, endless political schemes. Li Wei only wanted to cultivate peacefully, far away from a world that devoured its heroes.
He exhaled slowly, dispersing his qi into the blossoms as if it were never there. Within moments, the grove returned to stillness.
"Not bad," a faint voice broke the silence.
Li Wei froze. His eyes snapped open—and for the first time in months, he realized he wasn't alone.
The grove was supposed to be empty. That was why Li Wei cultivated here in the first place—where peach blossoms muffled sound and drifting petals disguised traces of energy flow. But now, a girl stood among the drifting pink.
She couldn't have been older than him, yet her presence carried the subtle edge of discipline Li Wei had learned to recognize: her shoulders straight, eyes steady, not the vacant look of a pampered young lady. Still, her robes were carefully chosen, woven with thread finer than what commoners could afford—yet plain enough to pass among students without inviting suspicion.
"Not bad," she repeated, stepping closer. Her voice held no mockery, but interest, as though catching someone in the act of solving a riddle.
Li Wei scratched his head, feigning confusion. "Not bad… what? Did I nap too loudly beneath this tree?" He forced a sheepish chuckle, pulling his robe tighter around himself.
The stranger arched a brow. "You're cultivating. Weren't you? I saw the blossoms stir when no wind was passing. Ordinary students don't do that."
*Sharp eyes,* Li Wei thought with displeasure. *Too sharp for my liking.*
Aloud, he snorted, slackening his posture until the mighty aura he carried shrunk into the illusion of sloppiness. "Nonsense. If I *were* cultivating, do you think I'd be here, alone, looking like this? I'm just resting. Must've been your imagination."
But the girl didn't withdraw. Instead, she walked right up to the peach tree where Li Wei sat, her gaze level with his. He felt her studying him, her expression calm, but there was a spark buried in her irises—a curiosity he both feared and resented.
"You're an odd one," she said softly. "In the classroom, you slouch. In sparring, you pretend to stumble. But your eyes… they don't match your act. They're too clear. Too steady."
Li Wei's back stiffened. Quickly, he laughed again, a sound hollow with intentional awkwardness. "My eyes? Maybe I just… eat too many carrots." He grinned as if he'd made a joke, then waved dismissively. "In any case, you've got the wrong person. I'm just Li Wei. Nobody worth remembering."
But that was where fate mocked him.
From the edge of the grove, a sudden commotion broke—the crack of branches, hurried footsteps, muffled voices whispering curses. Li Wei and the girl turned simultaneously as three ragged men stumbled into sight. Their faces were concealed beneath black cloth, their clothing patched and bearing the smell of damp earth. Bandits? This close?
The girl stiffened, hand snapping toward a dagger hidden in her sleeve, but Li Wei acted first. Or rather—he tried not to act while everything inside him screamed otherwise.
The bandits spotted them and snarled. "Witnesses. Good! Easy targets!" Swords gleamed as they rushed forward.
Li Wei wanted to sigh. *So much for peaceful naps.*
The girl leapt forward to intercept, the dagger flashing in her grip. She moved with speed and precision unusual for someone claiming to be just a student. Her blade deflected the first strike, her footwork twisting to avoid the second. But the third bandit swung low, faster than she could adjust.
And Li Wei, in spite of every promise to himself, stood.
With a lazy-seeming step, he crossed the space between them. To the girl's eyes—and to the bandits—it looked accidental, like he'd stumbled into the fray. Yet his hand flicked lightly, striking the bandit's wrist with pinpoint force. The sword flew harmlessly into the grass.
Before anyone could blink, he feigned panic, clutching his chest. "Ah! That was close! Did I… did I accidentally bump into him? How clumsy of me!"
The girl's brows knitted, astonishment veiled behind her calm facade. She had *seen* it. No accidental stumble could produce such a clean disarm.
The bandits gritted their teeth, wary now. Their eyes shifted between the two students. One growled, "He's not ordinary. Take the girl!"
They lunged again. This time, the girl fought alongside Li Wei, her dagger swift but defensive, seeking to keep distance. Li Wei, true to character, flapped about like a panicked fool, narrowly missing cuts as though tripping over roots—yet every movement just happened to deflect a strike or redirect momentum. His foot "slipped," and the second bandit tripped facefirst into a tree trunk. Li Wei "ducked too slowly," and the third bandit's attack overshot, leaving him exposed for the girl to counter.
Within breaths, the fight ended, the bandits groaning in the dirt.
Li Wei brushed his sleeve, muttering, "Phew… I sure am lucky. Must be the heavens protecting me." His grin was painfully forced.
The girl stared at him, dagger still in hand, chest rising and falling from the brief clash. Finally, she sheathed the blade and looked straight at him.
"You say you're a nobody," she murmured, tone thoughtful. "But what kind of nobody 'bumps' swords out of a man's hand like that? What kind of nobody fights like… flowing water?"
Li Wei swallowed, forcing another laugh. "Coincidence. I'm just… incredibly unlucky and occasionally trip in the right way."
But her eyes did not leave his, and beneath her calm mask, an ember had lit—a fascination that would not easily extinguish.
As guards from the academy finally rushed into the grove, drawn by the scuffle, Li Wei slumped against the peach tree again, pretending to be half-asleep, as though he hadn't been a heartbeat away from unleashing strength none of them could understand.
The girl watched him until the guards dragged the bandits away. And when she left, her expression bore a faint smile, hidden but certain, as if she had found her first puzzle within the academy.
He exhaled heavily once the grove was empty again, muttering darkly to himself. "Perfect. First day, and someone already suspects. This is *exactly* why I try to be lame."
Above him, a peach blossom drifted down, landing on his lap like punctuation to his woes.
The next morning, the academy was abuzz. Gossip flew faster than arrows across the courtyard, whispered in hurried tones before blossoming into outright chatter.
"Did you hear? Commoner Li Wei *defeated bandits* yesterday!"
"No, no, you've got it wrong. He was so lucky the bandits tripped over their own feet. He didn't even know what was happening."
"That new girl, Yue, was there, right? Maybe she saved him instead."
Each retelling grew more exaggerated, entangling Li Wei in a web of unwanted attention. Some laughed at his supposed luck, claiming even Heaven itself pitied his incompetence. Others, oddly, eyed him with suspicion—whispering if perhaps the *nascent wild strength* of a hidden talent lurked beneath his lazy exterior.
Li Wei slouched at his table near the back, tugging his sleeve over his face to avoid eye contact. "I tried… so hard… to look useless," he groaned under his breath. "But no, Heaven couldn't resist throwing three bandits at me. Couldn't they have robbed someone else?"
From the corner of his eye, he caught her again. Yue. She sat two rows ahead, posture straight, eyes lowered toward her scroll. To the class, she looked like any other diligent student newly transferred. But occasionally, her gaze flickered back, subtle as a butterfly's wing, settling on him with unreadable calm.
She wasn't fooled.
Worse, she wasn't bored.
The instructor's voice droned through lessons on cultivation channels, but Li Wei's mind remained in turmoil. He had spent years mastering obscurity, learning to veil his qi like mist, to trip at just the right moment so opponents underestimated him, to laugh awkwardly enough that nobles forgot he existed. And in a single afternoon, one encounter shattered the delicate veil he had woven.
*I should've let those bandits knock me down,* he thought bleakly. *A little blood, a little groaning, and no one would suspect me. Now rumors will spread until someone important starts sniffing around.*
After class, groups of fellow students approached him with mocking smiles.
"Li Wei, the bandit slayer!" one boy jeered, clapping him too hard on the back. "How about teaching me that *special stumble technique*? You practically slipped the sword out of his hand, hah!"
More laughter followed. His ears burned, though not from shame—more from the urge to roll their heads across the training yard. Instead, he smiled emptily, scratching his head like a fool. "I got lucky. Really lucky. That's all."
"Then may Heaven grant me the same clumsy luck!" another chimed, bowing sarcastically.
The group dispersed, still laughing, leaving Li Wei to drag himself out of the courtyard like a defeated ox.
He sought refuge in the library, where stacks of ancient scrolls smelled of parchment and dust, a comforting silence compared to the training grounds. Here, few cared about rumors. Scholars hunched over texts, lost in diagrams of qi pathways or old cultivator biographies. Li Wei selected a scroll on herb identification, using it as a screen to hide his thoughts.
Yet peace lasted only a heartbeat.
"You wear the mask well."
The voice was soft, unintentionally right behind him. Li Wei nearly jumped out of his skin. Turning, he found Yue standing there, her expression tranquil.
"Do you," he muttered, narrowing his eyes, "always sneak up on people in libraries?"
"I walk normally," Yue replied, serene. "Perhaps you're just uncommonly distracted."
Li Wei resisted the urge to sigh. "Look, what you think you saw yesterday—"
"I saw nothing unusual," Yue interrupted smoothly. Her words carried reassurance, yet her eyes betrayed the opposite. They were sharp, probing, holding questions she dared not openly speak.
That unsettled him more than accusations. Silence could spread as fast as gossip.
"You really should stop following me," Li Wei mumbled, feigning irritation beneath his drowsy drawl. "People will think we're… friends."
Her lips curved in the faintest smile—so faint most wouldn't notice—but Li Wei did. "And what's so wrong with that?"
He blinked, caught off guard. She turned gracefully then, picking a scroll before walking deeper into the library without waiting for his answer.
Li Wei sat back heavily, rubbing his temples. "This is trouble. This is *big* trouble."
***
That evening, under the glow of lantern light, Yue returned to her private quarters at the guest dormitory the academy had arranged for her. Closing the sliding door, her body relaxed for the first time all day. From her sleeve, she pulled a folded piece of silk—embroidered with the royal crest of the empire. She stared at it in silence.
Princess Yue of the Eastern Palace.
Few in this academy knew her true bloodline. To them, she was merely Yue, a transfer student with poise and beauty. But she had come with purpose. Hidden threats within the empire lingered, dark currents involving demonic sects whispered in court. She was sent to observe, to investigate. To find traces of danger unnoticed by complacent officials.
Yet none of her reports prepared her for Li Wei—the disguised commoner with eyes like lightning withheld behind storm clouds.
Her lips formed a quiet smile, analytical and intrigued. "You hide yourself so well, Li Wei. But you can't hide from me."
***
Meanwhile, Li Wei, back at his inn, sprawled across his modest pallet, groaning noisily into his pillow. "Of all the people to notice me… it had to be *her*. The new student. And she has eyes like a hawk. Heaven really does hate me."
But as exhaustion dragged him into shallow sleep, his thoughts betrayed a truth he refused to admit—even to himself.
For the first time in years, someone had looked at him not with scorn… but with genuine curiosity.
That frightened him far more than any enemy.
***
And thus, the stage was set. Rumors spread, suspicions grew, and an imperial princess in disguise had already fixed her gaze upon the "lame background character" who wanted nothing more than to be forgotten.
But fate, as it often does, had other plans.