Chapter 6: Sparks Beneath the Surface
Jin awoke with a start, his heart pounding as though it were trying to escape his chest. For a moment, he forgot where he was—forgot the mountains, the pavilion, Mei. His mind was clouded with remnants of dreams that felt too real, too raw.
The lingering scent of wood smoke filled the air, but it was Mei's voice that broke through the haze, gentle yet firm.
"Are you ready?"
He blinked rapidly and sat up. The sun had barely risen, the sky a pale wash of lavender and gold. Mei stood a few paces away, her robes dark against the glow, her back to him as she gathered firewood from the forest's edge.
"Ready for what?" Jin asked, his throat dry, as he rubbed at his face to clear the last remnants of the strange dream.
She turned, a wisp of a smile on her lips. "For the next step. Desire is a powerful force, Jin. It can transform you."
He swallowed hard, the memory of the word itself sending a tremor through his chest. "Desire?"
"Yes. Not just in the way most people think—erotic or fleeting. Desire is about wanting something so deeply it shapes your very being. It will either bind you or empower you."
Jin blinked, confusion overtaking him. "What does that have to do with me?"
"You're not broken, Jin. But your core is fragmented. You've buried your desires beneath survival instincts and anger. If you're going to break the seal, you need to confront them. The things you've hidden for so long."
Jin stood, heart still racing. "What do you mean? What desires?"
She stepped closer, her gaze steady. "The things you truly want. The things you crave but have never dared to acknowledge."
Jin clenched his fists. "What if I don't want to?"
"You can't hide from yourself forever. The path of cultivation is about balance, and balance requires you to face all of who you are." Her voice softened, like a thread woven through the air. "Including your deepest yearnings."
He felt something shift inside him—a tremor that felt like the flickering of a flame in the wind. But he pushed it down. He wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to open that door.
Mei tilted her head, reading his hesitation. "You've already begun, Jin. The first step was pain. The second is desire. The third will be… power."
He stared at her, unsure of what to say. The words she spoke sounded simple enough, but the weight of them was overwhelming. He hadn't asked for this. Hadn't wanted to be dragged into some greater destiny.
But that was exactly what had happened. And now, standing before Mei, he realized the price of his silence: he had let his desires fester in the dark, untouched and untended.
"Do you truly think that's possible?" he whispered. "That I can change?"
Mei's eyes softened. "You already have. Every time you face yourself, every time you play the guqin, you shed pieces of your old self. Now you need to accept that those pieces—your emotions, your desires—are what make you whole."
She took a step forward, her proximity making his breath catch in his throat.
"I'm not asking you to want me, Jin," she continued, her voice low and steady. "I'm asking you to confront your truth. The fire that burns inside you, the things you need—not the things you were taught to want. The things that make you feel alive."
He felt the heat between them—felt it in the way his chest tightened, his breath shallow.
Jin swallowed. "I... I'm not sure I can."
Mei's gaze never wavered. "You already have."
---
They moved to the small clearing beside the lake. Mei sat on a large rock, her posture regal yet relaxed as she placed the zither before her.
Jin stood before her, his palms sweating as the familiar guqin lay in his hands.
"What should I play?" he asked, his voice thick with uncertainty.
Mei didn't answer immediately. Instead, she closed her eyes, drawing in a slow, steady breath. The wind tugged at her hair, sending it fluttering like a dark cloud behind her.
"Play the yearning," she said softly, "the one you never speak aloud."
Jin's hands trembled, his fingers hovering over the strings. He wanted to protest, to tell her he didn't know what she meant, but her gaze anchored him. The quiet challenge in her eyes pushed him forward.
He thought of his childhood—of his mother's distant gaze, of her absence in his life. He thought of the girls in the temple, the ones who had never looked at him twice. The longing had never been a secret—it had simply been unspoken, a desire buried beneath layers of shame.
But now, as he touched the strings, something broke open inside him.
A melody poured out—a gentle, mournful tune that echoed the loneliness in his chest, the hunger he had never allowed himself to feel. The soft hum of the guqin seemed to amplify his unspoken pain, vibrating in his bones.
Jin felt the energy rise in the air, a subtle pull toward something deeper. The wind picked up, carrying his song with it.
Mei didn't speak as he played, but he could feel her presence as she watched him, her focus unwavering. She had always been a figure of mystery to him—distant, unattainable, her own desires carefully hidden behind layers of control.
But today, in the quiet hum of their shared space, he felt as though she understood him in ways no one ever had.
As the last note hung in the air, Jin's hands shook. The emptiness in his chest had filled, but not with satisfaction—no, it was something more primal. A yearning that was both a weight and a release. He had never allowed himself to feel this much, to face the longing and the need that lived deep in his soul.
He met Mei's gaze.
Her expression was soft, but there was something there—a flicker of something he couldn't name. Perhaps it was understanding. Perhaps it was something more.
"You did well," she said quietly.
Jin's heart hammered in his chest as the silence between them deepened. The space between them had shrunk, the tension thick and palpable. He could feel the pull of it in his bones, in the way his pulse raced when she came close, in the quiet, unspoken intimacy that clung to the air.
But they said nothing more. The air around them shifted with the weight of the unspoken, the truth of desire that neither of them acknowledged.
---
That night, as they sat by the fire, the quiet crackle of the flames the only sound, Jin couldn't shake the feeling that something was changing—both inside him and between them. The weight of his desires, the fragments of his soul that he had kept hidden, were no longer as far away as they once had been. They were here, inside him, pressing against his chest, urging him to acknowledge them, to accept them.
And yet, despite everything he had just felt, he still didn't know how to speak of it.
Mei was quiet, her eyes distant, as if she were lost in thought. Jin opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he sat back and stared at the stars, letting the cool night air soothe the heat rising in him.
Tomorrow, they would face more. But tonight, there was only the quiet hum of the universe, and the soft firelight flickering between them.