Cultivating Chai

From as early as she had stepped into the world of cultivation, Lianhua Wu understood the true nature of strength.

It had not taken long for her to figure out that her mother, Meixhu Wu, had died, a truth pieced out of the countless clues that were left behind.

In the family portraits done by a skilled painter, there was another person, a woman the young child had never seen before. In the wardrobes that were full of feminine clothes that were way too large for a child and way too unlikely to belong to her father. In the music instruments tucked away in almirahs, instruments collecting dust that she had never seen her father play and never likely would.

So she had asked the question that every child brought up without one parent of two eventually ended up asking.

She had asked her father, asked him how her mother died.

The first time, he refused to answer.

The second time Lianhua once again built up the courage to ask him, only to be denied again.

The third time, a few days before she would officially join the Alchemy Division and work up from the status of a recruit, he finally told her, out of his own volition.

“Your mother died of Qi Sickness not long after giving birth to you,” He had said, his tone soft and gentle.

It had taken Lianhua Wu moments to understand the implications of his words.

The tears had dripped down her cheeks before she could even respond.

Was it her fault then? Was she the reason her mother had died? Was that the reason why her father did not wish to tell her, all this while?

The answer to her unspoken question came in the form of a gentle hug, as her father’s slender arms wrapped around her back.

“There is no known reason for Qi Sickness,” Her father had explained. “Childbirth is merely associated with Qi Sickness, there is no medical evidence to deem it as the cause. But mark my words, daughter. I do not need to fully understand Qi Sickness to prevent a situation like this from happening again. One day not far from now, I shall become Grand Alchemist— and it shall be by the virtue of a pill that stops any more untimely deaths from happening.”

Such fire was contained in her father’s words, that even young Lianhua could understand the strength contained within them.

She had lived in place of her mother. Her father loved her, he made her feel so loved, so protected, despite what she served as a reminder of.

Her father’s strength created a resonance within her own heart.

A small, insignificant ember of her own that sought heat from the blazing fire in her father’s heart had come into existence.

That was the day she had resolved to live her life with strength, to excel in the path her father so cherished— even if young Lianhua hadn’t recognized it yet.

Her father had lived up to her word.

He had created the Meixhu Pill, a pill that significantly reduced the odds of Qi sickness after giving birth. While it wasn’t perfect, his work, that spanned across a decade, across countless sleepless nights, innumerable attempts as ideas, formulae and ratios were thrown at the workboard, only for them to fail and fail again and again until the most complex pill, also the final pill that he needed to become a grand alchemist, succeeded.

Those years had not been easy for Lianhua. But she had not once complained to her father. She had not allowed herself to slip into despondency as she juggled her own coursework and tests as an alchemist designate while managing her father’s administrative duties as a then Senior Alchemist. No, she had met the challenge with strength and resilience.

Her peers had begun to acknowledge her efforts and dedication. They had come to see her as someone to be respected, to admired, a person to look up to. An ideal alchemist and a dutiful, filial daughter.

The youngest amongst the present generation of alchemy division to make it to the rank of senior alchemist.

However, there was nothing in life that came without a cost.

Before she had even realized it, Lianhua had alienated herself from her peers. She stood alone in the spotlight and the others around her, had become too timid too approach her. She was a prized flower to be admired from afar and when her father walked, the goodwill of the thousands of lives that he had possibly saved, walked alongside him.

There were plenty of people willing to talk to Lianhua. They would gladly invite her to sit next to them in the Junior Division’s mess hall and they would praise her for longer than she could stomach.

But Lianhua Wu had not had real friends in a very long time.

She was turning forty two this year, but her life experiences consisted of her dedication to the Dao of Alchemy, managing her father’s administrative duties so he could’ve focused on the development of the Meixhu Pill and occasionally, when time permitted her as it seldom did, hanging out with acquaintances.

So when Xiao Feng offered her a hairpin that was manifold what his salary back in the Martial Division ought to have been, even though circumstances were clearly much different now, her mind stopped working for a few long moments.

She was caught completely off guard by an emotion that she had not felt in a very long time, as she blushed harder than a teenage girl.

She had not felt such warmth from anyone except her father, hadn’t felt so touched in years.

So inexperienced she was in matters of the heart, that Lianhua Wu decided to temporarily retreat, before all but running away from Daoist Jian’s Pill Furnace Shop. The old man would definitely hold it over her head, but Lianhua was in no position to care as her heart asked her a question,

Should I wear the hairpin when I go to check in on Xiao Feng tomorrow?

Maybe.

Maybe she would.