Aryan, still lost in his thoughts, didn't realize that Uncle Lan was approaching him. With great care, Uncle Lan lifted the plate of steaming fried rice and slowly brought it closer to Aryan's face, who was daydreaming. The fragrant aroma of freshly cooked fried rice immediately wafted into Aryan's nose, pulling him out of his long reverie.
"Eh, you cooked it so quickly, Uncle," Aryan said, surprised by the delicious scent that suddenly disrupted his thoughts.
Uncle Lan chuckled, half-laughing, as he placed the plate on the table. "It's not that I'm fast, Aryan, you're just lost in your daydreams," he teased gently, touching Aryan's shoulder.
Hearing Uncle Lan's words, Aryan smiled sheepishly. His face showed guilt, like a child caught doing something he shouldn't. Without saying another word, Aryan accepted the plate of fried rice from Uncle Lan's hands and gently placed it on the wooden table in front of him. The tempting aroma of the freshly cooked fried rice continued to tease his nose, but for a moment, Aryan was too wrapped up in his embarrassment to enjoy the food.
Uncle Lan, who had known Aryan for quite some time, looked at him with curiosity. He could sense that something was different about Aryan that night. There was a slight furrow between Aryan's brows, and his vacant gaze indicated that his mind was far from the present.
"What are you thinking about so deeply that you're lost in thought like that?" Uncle Lan asked, his voice warm but laced with curiosity. He sat in a wooden chair across from Aryan, as if ready to listen to whatever the young man had to say.
Still feeling embarrassed, Aryan tried to deflect the question the way he usually did. "Ah, nothing, Uncle. Just something unimportant."
But Uncle Lan wasn't convinced. He had known Aryan for too long to believe the young man was telling the truth. With a faint smile on his lips, Uncle Lan patted Aryan's shoulder gently, signaling that he wouldn't accept such a simple answer.
"Come on, just tell me. Haven't we known each other for long enough?" Uncle Lan asked in a friendly but firm tone, urging Aryan to open up.
Aryan grew increasingly uneasy. He bit his lip, his eyes darting occasionally toward Uncle Lan before quickly dropping back to the plate of fried rice in front of him. His hands fiddled with his chopsticks, even though he hadn't touched the food. He knew Uncle Lan wouldn't give up so easily, but what he wanted to talk about felt so embarrassing and illogical.
"But, Uncle… this is something quite embarrassing… and maybe doesn't even make sense," Aryan finally murmured, his voice soft, almost a whisper.
Uncle Lan, hearing this, only became more curious. His eyes narrowed slightly, and the corners of his mouth lifted in a curious smile. "What could it be that's so embarrassing you feel like this?" Uncle Lan asked, his tone gently teasing but still warm.
Aryan squirmed in his seat, feeling uncomfortable. He lowered his head further, trying to find the words to express what was on his mind. In a voice barely audible, Aryan whispered, "It's about… cultivators…"
Uncle Lan's eyes widened, surprised by the word. He looked at Aryan with a mix of shock and disbelief. "What? Cultivators?" Uncle Lan asked, as if making sure he had heard correctly.
Aryan nodded, feeling even more embarrassed. His face flushed instantly, blood rushing to his cheeks, turning them a deep red. He knew how ridiculous it sounded to talk about something that might only exist in fairy tales or fantasy stories. But deep in his heart, Aryan felt something else. Something bigger than just a childhood dream.
Uncle Lan looked at Aryan with unhidden curiosity. "You mean cultivators… people who have abilities beyond normal human limits? People who can control spiritual energy?" Uncle Lan asked, his voice trembling slightly as if he wanted to confirm whether Aryan was truly serious.
Aryan sank deeper into his embarrassment. He couldn't bring himself to look Uncle Lan in the eye. "Yes, Uncle. That's right," Aryan replied quietly, almost as if hoping Uncle Lan hadn't heard him.
Uncle Lan nodded slowly, his expression shifting from surprise to something more serious. He placed his hand on the table, his fingers tapping the wooden surface rhythmically, as though deep in thought. "So…," Uncle Lan began, drawing out the word, encouraging Aryan to continue.
Aryan felt his chest tighten, his heart beating faster than usual. He was incredibly nervous, but at the same time, there was a push within him to continue the conversation. Even though he knew the topic was absurd, Aryan felt like he had to get out what had been haunting him for so long.
"So… do you think cultivators really exist?" Aryan finally asked, his voice trembling. Each word felt heavy, as though he was revealing the deepest part of himself, rarely shown to others.
As Aryan voiced the question, he felt his face grow even hotter. His cheeks, already red, now seemed to burn, the color spreading to his ears. He couldn't look at Uncle Lan any longer; his gaze dropped to his lap, hoping the ground beneath him would open up and swallow him whole.
Aryan knew how foolish the question sounded. In a world filled with daily realities and responsibilities, who still believed in things like that? Yet, in the depths of his heart, Aryan couldn't shake the feeling that there was something greater out there—something that might just be true, even if he himself wasn't entirely sure.
Uncle Lan, sitting across from him, didn't answer right away. A faint smile appeared on the old man's face, but he remained silent. Aryan stole a glance at Uncle Lan, and when he saw that the old man was merely smiling without saying anything, his embarrassment intensified. His face flushed red like a ripe tomato, and he felt as though the whole world was silently laughing at him.
The chopsticks in Aryan's hands felt slippery, cold sweat beginning to form on his palms. He lowered his head even more, almost hiding his face behind the sleeves of the jacket he wore. The embarrassment was so overwhelming that his throat felt dry. Truly, he hadn't expected the conversation to go this far, and now he felt like a fool.
"Why did I say it…," Aryan thought to himself, almost cursing himself for letting the words slip out.
Yet, despite the embarrassment, there was a subtle sense of relief. Though he felt awkward and ashamed, Aryan was glad that he had finally been able to share something he had been keeping to himself for so long. That sense of relief came like a breath of fresh air suddenly entering a stuffy room.
Aryan's expression grew increasingly chaotic. His lips trembled, his eyes tried to remain calm, but it was clear that he was on the verge of a small panic. Every muscle in his face was tense, as if he was holding back something massive. His eyes blinked rapidly, resisting the urge to glance at Uncle Lan. He didn't even know whether the old man would laugh at him or give a serious response.
As time passed, Aryan felt each second stretch into what seemed like hours. His facial expressions shifted from embarrassed, to awkward, to anxious. His flushed face stood in stark contrast to his usual pale complexion, after a day spent working under the sun. He tried to calm himself, but the embarrassment was so immense that he felt as though the entire world could see how foolish he felt at that moment.
However, even though he felt like he was at his lowest point, there was something in Uncle Lan's eyes—something that couldn't be explained in words. The old man's gaze wasn't filled with mockery or rejection, but with deep understanding.