Just as Tian Hao thought he could slink away and nurse his aching head, he heard a voice that made his stomach drop. "Tian Hao!" The sharp tone of Elder Hua cut through the courtyard, her eyes narrowing as she approached.
Tian Hao turned, plastering a polite smile on his face. "Elder Hua," he greeted, bowing slightly, though internally, he couldn't help but feel a pang of annoyance. 'Why is it always me?' he thought, masking his frustration behind a polite expression.
Elder Hua's gaze was cold, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Given your completely uninspired and frankly disappointing performance today, I have a fitting task for you. The old cultivation hall has been neglected for far too long, and I think it's time someone cleaned it up." She raised an eyebrow, her gaze challenging. "Consider it an opportunity to reflect on your dedication."
Tian Hao nodded, his smile strained. "Of course, Elder Hua. I would be honored to assist." The sarcasm was barely hidden beneath his words, but Elder Hua either didn't notice or chose to ignore it. She simply turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Tian Hao standing there, biting back a sigh.
Tian Hao trudged towards the old cultivation hall, the path winding through overgrown shrubs and ancient, moss-covered stones. As he approached, he spotted an old, dilapidated sign hanging precariously above the doorway. The faded characters, barely visible through the years of grime, read '灵息殿' (Líng Xī Diàn) - 'Hall of Spiritual Breath.'
Tian Hao pushed open the creaking doors, coughing as a cloud of dust greeted his still tender lungs. The place was cluttered, cobwebs hanging from the ceiling beams, and the floor covered in a layer of grime. He looked around, wondering where to even start. 'Spiritual Breath,' he thought, 'More like the hall of spiritual dust.' He shook his head before stepping forward to push open the creaking door.
He muttered under his breath, "Great, just what I need, a day filled with dust, regrets, and a profound sense of life's injustices. Truly, a cultivator's dream." He found the old broom leaning against the wall, its bristles frayed and handle worn from years of neglect. Picking it up, he noticed how rough and splintered the wood felt against his palms. The first sweep sent another cloud of dust into the air, making his eyes water and his throat itch.
"This is somehow worse than sweeping and mopping at Heaven's Bargain Mart," he muttered to himself. "At least back then, I got a meager paycheck and could sneak in a break when the manager wasn't looking. Here, the only reward is dust in my lungs and splinters in my hands." He chuckled dryly, the absurdity of the comparison helping to lift his spirits just a bit.
"Young Master Tian Hao!" a familiar voice called out. Tian Hao turned to see Fatty Wu waddling in, a wide grin on his face and a basket in his hands. "I heard you got stuck with some menial work, so I thought I'd bring you a little something to keep your spirits up."
Tian Hao's face lit up at the sight of the basket. "Fatty Wu, you're a true hero, a shining beacon in this dusty abyss. I swear, if I survive this, I'm naming my firstborn after you." He took the basket, peeking inside to find an assortment of snacks—steamed buns, rice cakes, and a small flask of wine. His stomach growled in response, and he wasted no time in grabbing a bun and taking a bite.
Fatty Wu chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. "You know, Young Master, the elders are pretty harsh on you. But you've got spirit, showing up for morning training after a night out. Not many could do that."
Tian Hao swallowed the bun, giving Fatty Wu a wry smile. "I'm not sure if it's spirit, stupidity, or just sheer stubbornness," he said, his voice muffled by another bite. "Probably a healthy mix of all three. Either way, I'm stuck cleaning this place."
Fatty Wu laughed, his round belly shaking. "Well, at least you won't be hungry while doing it. Need any help?"
Tian Hao shook his head, though he appreciated the offer. "Nah, I got it. Besides, if Elder Hua catches you helping me, she'll probably have you scrubbing pots for a week."
Fatty Wu nodded sagely. "True enough. Just remember, Young Master, hard work builds character." He gave a playful wink before turning to leave. "Good luck, Tian Hao. I'll bring more snacks if you're still here by sundown."
Tian Hao watched as Fatty Wu left, the door creaking shut behind him. He let out a sigh, looking around the dusty hall. "Hard work builds character, huh?" he muttered to himself, picking up the broom again. "I wonder how much character I need before I can stop building it."
Time passed slowly as Tian Hao swept various parts of the hall. He moved methodically, his broom scratching against the rough stone floor, raising small clouds of dust with each movement. The scent of stale air mixed with the faint, almost sweet smell of old wood. The sunlight filtering through the narrow, grimy windows cast long shadows across the floor, revealing patterns of grime that had settled like a second skin. He could feel the grit beneath his feet as he shifted, his footsteps soft but audible in the quiet, abandoned hall.
The cobwebs above swayed gently as he brushed against the beams, and he could hear the faint creaking of old wood, almost as if the hall itself was waking up after years of neglect. His hands ached, the rough handle of the broom digging into his palms, leaving them raw and tender. Each sweep was an exercise in persistence, each corner cleared an inch closer to reclaiming some semblance of dignity for the forgotten space.
As Tian Hao swept the floor, the door to the hall opened again, and two disciples stepped inside, their conversation halting as they spotted him. They exchanged glances, their expressions a mixture of surprise and amusement.
"Isn't that Tian Hao? What's he doing here?" one of them whispered, loud enough for Tian Hao to hear.
"Probably another punishment," the other replied with a smirk. "Serves him right. Maybe he'll finally learn to take cultivation seriously."
Tian Hao kept his head down, pretending not to hear them. The disciples lingered for a moment longer before leaving, their laughter echoing down the hall. He tightened his grip on the broom, his jaw clenched. It was clear—no one here had any respect for him. He was just the spoiled young master, the one who never put in the effort, the one who always fell short.
He paused, leaning on the broom as he looked around the dusty room. If he was going to make his life here even remotely tolerable, he needed to change the way people saw him. Not completely—he wasn't about to abandon his pleasures—but just enough so they wouldn't keep treating him like he was worthless.
A small smile played at his lips. "Guess it's time to show them that even a lazy young master can surprise them," he murmured to himself, getting back to work, the broom sweeping across the floor with renewed purpose.
The hours dragged on as Tian Hao moved through the hall, tackling the cobwebs in the corners, brushing away decades of dust, and carefully stacking neglected scrolls that had been scattered across the floor. His muscles ached from the unfamiliar labor, the soreness a stark contrast to the luxury he was accustomed to. He could feel the sweat trickling down his back, his robes clinging uncomfortably to his skin, and yet, there was something oddly satisfying about the physical exertion.
Each sweep of the broom, each piece of clutter cleared, felt like a small victory—a tiny assertion of control over his chaotic life.
He paused to catch his breath, looking around the room. It was still far from pristine, but the difference was noticeable. The floor was visible in places, the beams above were mostly cleared of cobwebs, and the air, though still musty, was beginning to clear. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, glancing towards the basket Fatty Wu had brought. He took a brief break, savoring another rice cake, his gaze drifting towards the window where the afternoon sun cast long, slanting shadows across the floor.
The door creaked open once more, and Tian Hao tensed, expecting another pair of mocking disciples. Instead, he found himself facing Elder Han. The elder stepped inside, his eyes surveying the room before settling on Tian Hao. There was a hint of surprise in his gaze, and perhaps—just perhaps—a flicker of approval.
"Tian Hao," Elder Han said, his tone neutral but not unkind, "I see you've been making progress here."
Tian Hao straightened, bowing slightly. "Elder Han," he replied, his voice respectful. "I was tasked with cleaning the old cultivation hall. I'm doing my best to restore it."
Elder Han nodded, stepping further into the room. He ran a finger along one of the recently cleaned surfaces, inspecting the thin layer of dust that still remained. "It is good work," he said, his eyes meeting Tian Hao's. "It may not seem like much, but caring for the places we cultivate is an extension of caring for our cultivation itself."
Tian Hao blinked, taken aback by the elder's words. He wasn't used to receiving anything that even remotely resembled praise from the sect elders. He nodded, a hint of genuine respect in his voice. "I understand, Elder Han. I'll do my best."
Elder Han gave a small, approving nod before turning towards the door. "Continue your work, Tian Hao. Perhaps there is more to cultivation than simply training your body and spirit. Discipline comes in many forms." With that, he left, the door creaking shut behind him.
Tian Hao stood there for a moment, the elder's words echoing in his mind. Discipline comes in many forms. He sighed, picking up the broom once more. "Who knew cleaning could be so enlightening," he muttered, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Maybe next I'll find the meaning of life at the bottom of a mop bucket."
As the afternoon wore on, the sun inching its way towards the horizon, Tian Hao continued to work, the old cultivation hall slowly beginning to regain a semblance of its former glory—one sweep at a time.
By the time Tian Hao returned to his chambers, the sun had nearly dipped below the horizon, its final rays casting a golden glow that filtered through the ornate lattice windows, painting the room in hues of orange and pink. The fading light seemed to dance across the polished wooden floors, the soft radiance catching on the silken tapestries and gilded edges of the furniture, creating a serene contrast to the exhaustion that weighed on him.
His body ached from the hours of labor, his muscles protesting with every step, and his robes clung to his skin, sticky with sweat and dust. He sighed, looking around the opulent room. The lavish decor felt almost hollow, disconnected from the simple but genuine sense of accomplishment he had felt while working amidst the grime and toil of the old cultivation hall.
He stuck his head out the door, spotting one of the servants who always seemed to be waiting nearby. The servant, noticing Tian Hao looking out, quickly approached and bowed. "Young Master, how may I serve you?"
Tian Hao couldn't help but feel a twinge of awkwardness at how readily these servants seemed to wait on him, always attentive, always available. It was a luxury that still felt foreign to him, a reminder of the gap between his past life and his current reality.
Tian Hao waved a hand, exhaustion evident in his voice. "Bring me a bath. A large tub, hot water, and some scented oils. And make it quick, please." He paused, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "I feel like I've spent the entire day becoming one with the dust."
The servant bowed again. "At once, Young Master." He hurried off, and Tian Hao sank onto a cushioned chair, letting out a long sigh. The exhaustion weighed on him, but there was a small sense of satisfaction as well—the hall had actually looked better when he left it. Maybe Elder Han was right; maybe there was something to be said for discipline beyond just meditation and physical training.
There was a certain satisfaction in seeing the transformation of the hall, in knowing that his efforts—however mundane—had made a difference. It was a tangible accomplishment, a reminder that the cultivation of pleasure could also mean taking care of one's surroundings, and that even the smallest actions could hold a deeper meaning.
Soon, the servant returned with two others in tow, each carrying large buckets of steaming water. They moved efficiently, setting up the wooden tub in the center of the room, filling it with the hot water, and adding a few drops of fragrant oils. The steam rose from the tub, filling the room with the calming scent of ylang-ylang.
The servant turned to Tian Hao, bowing once more. "Young Master, would you like me to assist you with your bath?"
Tian Hao blinked, taken aback for a moment. The thought of someone else helping him bathe felt strange, almost absurd. He was used to doing things himself—even if he was the young master now, he couldn't shake the sense of awkwardness at the idea. "No, that won't be necessary," he said, waving the servant off. "I can handle it from here. Just leave me to it."
The servants bowed deeply, backing away before leaving the room, the door closing softly behind them. Tian Hao stood, stretching his sore muscles, before slowly disrobing. He stepped into the steaming water, letting out a low groan as the heat enveloped him, the tension in his muscles beginning to melt away. He sank into the tub, the water rising around him, and closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling.
He picked up a sponge and a bar of soap, scrubbing away the layers of dust and grime that clung to his skin. The scented oils mixed with the steam, the fragrance filling his senses, and he could feel the weariness of the day slowly ebbing away. The water was hot, almost scalding, but it was exactly what he needed. He scrubbed until his skin felt raw, until every trace of the old hall was gone, replaced by the clean scent of ylang-ylang and the soft warmth of the bath.
Finally, he put the sponge aside, sinking deeper into the water, letting it cover his shoulders. He leaned back, resting his head against the edge of the tub, and closed his eyes, allowing himself to simply exist in the moment. The heat of the bath seeped into his bones, the steam wrapping around him like a comforting embrace. There was a sense of peace here, a quiet pleasure that he hadn't expected. It wasn't the wild thrill of the night at the Moonlit Pavilion, nor the rush of indulgence that came from rebellion. It was something simpler, quieter—the pleasure of warmth, of cleanliness, of a moment entirely to himself.
He smiled faintly, the thought striking him as he soaked in the water. This, too, seemed to count as a form of pleasure—one that resonated with his strange new cultivation path. Perhaps there was more to this than just indulgence. Perhaps even the simple act of caring for himself, of taking a moment to enjoy something as mundane as a hot bath, could be part of his journey.
"Perhaps this path of pleasure is more profound than I first thought—it's not just about indulgence in food or drink, but in the simple comforts of life, too." He sighed. "All those times I dismissed the beauty of a quiet afternoon or ignored the peace in a simple cup of tea, stuck comparing what I had with what I perceived others as having. Maybe these small moments, these quiet comforts, hold their own kind of power," he murmured to himself, his voice barely a whisper, lost in the gentle ripple of the water as it lapped against the sides of the tub.
He allowed himself to relax completely, the tension leaving his body as he drifted, the warmth of the bath carrying him away from the worries of the sect, from the judgmental eyes of the elders and disciples. For now, there was only this—the warmth, the scent of jasmine, and the quiet satisfaction of a day survived.
Tian Hao closed his eyes, letting the gentle heat of the water soothe his aching body, and for a moment, he allowed himself to simply be—no expectations, no performance, just the pleasure of the present.