Aryan sat quietly for a moment, still feeling the lingering awkwardness that enveloped him. The plate of steaming fried rice in front of him gave off an increasingly tempting aroma, but his embarrassment kept him from enjoying it right away. Uncle Lan, who sat across from him, noticed Aryan's uneasiness and, in a gentle tone, said, "Come on, eat the fried rice before it gets cold."
Those words seemed to provide Aryan with an escape from the awkwardness wrapping around him. He finally channeled all his discomfort into the food. Holding the chopsticks in his hand, Aryan began eating the fried rice with gusto, almost as if he was releasing his pent-up emotions through each bite. Each mouthful of fried rice felt warm and full of flavor, filling his empty stomach and momentarily distracting him from the earlier conversation that had felt so embarrassing.
Aryan ate quickly, shoveling bite after bite as though trying to forget his discomfort through the act of eating. The heap of fried rice on his plate quickly dwindled. Each time he took a bite, he chewed rapidly, as if he hadn't eaten in days. The heat from the fried rice filled his mouth, but Aryan seemed unfazed. Sweat began to form on his forehead from the warmth of the food, but he kept eating enthusiastically, feeling a bit of relief as the earlier awkwardness started to fade.
As Aryan busied himself devouring the fried rice, Uncle Lan, who sat across from him, spoke again, this time in a more serious tone, "Why do you want to talk about cultivators?"
Aryan, still chewing, was taken aback by the question. His eyes widened immediately, and he looked up at Uncle Lan. There was no sign of joking or teasing on Uncle Lan's face. The old man's expression was serious, his gaze piercing straight at Aryan. Aryan couldn't detect even the slightest hint of the usual smile that appeared when Uncle Lan was teasing or joking with him. Instead, Uncle Lan's look was entirely earnest.
Caught off guard by such a serious question, Aryan quickly swallowed the mouthful of fried rice, then placed his chopsticks on the table. This time, he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. With every exhale, it felt like the embarrassment that had weighed on him was being pushed out with the breath.
"When I was younger, I once spoke to my grandfather about cultivators," Aryan finally said, his voice calm but laced with a sense of nostalgia. "At that time, I asked him if cultivators really existed in this world."
Uncle Lan didn't interrupt, but gave a small nod, indicating that he was listening intently. Aryan continued, his gaze drifting slightly, as if his memories of that conversation were resurfacing vividly.
"Back then, my grandfather told me that cultivators did exist in this world, but they were incredibly difficult to find—like searching for a needle in the vast ocean."
Uncle Lan kept listening with undivided attention, occasionally nodding as if to acknowledge the significance of what Aryan was saying. There was a certain wistfulness in Aryan's face as he recalled the conversation with his grandfather, a man he had always admired. Those memories seemed to pull him back to a time when his dreams and aspirations were still pure, untouched by the harsh realities of life.
"Since then, I've always dreamed of becoming a cultivator," Aryan added, his voice carrying a note of longing, though it quickly diminished. "And I… I became obsessed with the idea. I've thought about it for years."
Uncle Lan stroked his beard gently, his gaze growing more contemplative. He said nothing in response, but his expression suggested that he was deep in thought. Feeling the weight of the silence, Aryan gave a faint, bitter smile and, in a low tone, asked, "Isn't that a foolish dream, Uncle?"
For a long moment, Uncle Lan didn't answer. He remained silent, his eyes distant, as if pondering something important. Time seemed to slow in the room, filled only with the soft sound of the night breeze brushing against the walls. Feeling the tension of the quiet, Aryan resumed eating his fried rice.
After what felt like an eternity, Uncle Lan finally spoke, his voice firm and unexpected, "Yes, cultivators do exist."
Aryan, in the middle of chewing another mouthful of fried rice, was so startled by Uncle Lan's words that he immediately began choking. His body stiffened, and reflexively, he reached for the glass of water nearby. His face turned red as he struggled to swallow the food that was stuck in his throat. Small coughs escaped his mouth, his eyes slightly watery from the effort of trying to clear his airway.
After several gulps of water, Aryan managed to swallow the food, though the shock still lingered on his face. He took a relieved breath and then looked back at Uncle Lan with an expression of disbelief.
"Uncle Lan… you must be joking, right?" Aryan asked, his voice filled with doubt.
But Uncle Lan didn't smile or laugh. Instead, he gazed at Aryan with sharp, serious eyes, full of meaning. There was no sign of teasing or playfulness in his expression. Seeing this, Aryan's confusion and curiosity only grew deeper.
In a low, steady voice, Uncle Lan said, "I'm going to tell you a secret."
Aryan felt his heart begin to race. He had no idea what Uncle Lan was about to reveal, but from the man's tone and expression, Aryan could sense that whatever it was, it wasn't something ordinary. Aryan stared at Uncle Lan with undivided attention, his eyes unblinking, trying to catch every subtle gesture from the older man.
Uncle Lan took a deep breath, as if preparing himself to share something deeply personal. After a few moments of silence, he began speaking. "This world… it's not as simple as you think, Aryan. There are many things we don't know, things that cannot be explained with logic or science."
Aryan listened closely, his curiosity intensifying with every word Uncle Lan spoke. His sentences felt like the prelude to some grand secret, something that might change Aryan's entire understanding of the world. Aryan tried to remain calm, even as the tension and anticipation inside him swelled.
"Since ancient times," Uncle Lan continued, "cultivators have existed. They are people who can transcend the limits of ordinary humans, who can control spiritual energy and achieve levels of power that are unimaginable. However, they don't live in the same world as we do. They remain hidden, living in places that can only be accessed by those who truly understand the spiritual path."
Aryan listened with increasing awe, his eyes widening with each word. "So… it's all real?" Aryan thought to himself, his heart pounding. For years, he had believed that his dream of becoming a cultivator was nothing more than a childish fantasy. But hearing Uncle Lan speak so seriously about it made Aryan begin to doubt his own skepticism.
"How do you know all of this, Uncle?" Aryan asked, his voice full of curiosity, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart.
Uncle Lan gave a faint, knowing smile, a smile that seemed to hold countless untold stories. "Because I once met one of them," he said calmly, yet with depth in his tone.
Aryan was stunned by the answer. "What? You met a cultivator?" he asked in disbelief, almost hoping that Uncle Lan was only kidding.
But Uncle Lan didn't laugh. He nodded slowly, confirming the truth of what he had said. Aryan fell silent, struggling to process the shocking revelation. "How is that even possible?" Aryan thought, his mind racing. How could Uncle Lan, an ordinary, unassuming old man, have crossed paths with someone possessing such immense power?
Sensing Aryan's disbelief, Uncle Lan continued his story. "It was many years ago, when I was still young. At that time, I was traveling through the mountains, seeking life experience. In one of the remote villages I encountered on my journey, I met an old man who was unlike any ordinary person. His eyes and aura were so calm, yet filled with a power that I couldn't explain."