Grandfather Daiten had not always been the wise, composed patriarch he appeared to be now. His life had been one of mistakes and regrets, of rash decisions and painful lessons. But in the end, those very mistakes paved the way for a different kind of family—one that was forged in love and redemption.
Years before baby Xianlu entered their lives, Daiten had found Yuhen, a street urchin no older than ten, scavenging for scraps in the slums. The boy's sharp eyes and quick wit had struck Daiten immediately. There was an intelligence in him, a hunger for more than just food.
"You'll come with me," Daiten had said, holding out his hand. "I'll give you a home."
The boy hesitated, staring at the man before him. Daiten's clothes were worn but clean, his voice gruff but kind. Yuhen finally nodded, slipping his small hand into Daiten's calloused one.
That day marked the start of a bond that would change them both.
---
Daiten had once been a powerful cultivator, renowned within the Koicha Clan for his skill in Vein-Weaving and his fearlessness on dangerous missions. But that reputation came at a cost. Years of relentless clan work—defending territories, hunting rogue cultivators, and taking high-stakes commissions—left his body scarred and battered.
One mission, however, marked the end of his days as a warrior. Tasked with eliminating a rogue Qi-Beast that had been terrorizing a nearby settlement, Daiten underestimated the creature's cunning. The beast's ambush left him severely injured, its venom searing through his veins and disrupting the delicate Qi pathways that were essential for cultivation. Though he survived, his Qi-Veins were permanently damaged, and his days as a combatant were over.
This loss was more than physical. For a cultivator, the ability to harness Qi was as vital as breathing. Without it, Daiten felt adrift, his identity shattered. He spiraled into despair, turning to alcohol to numb the pain of his perceived failure.
It wasn't until Daiten found Yuhen—a bright, scrappy boy surviving on his wits in the slums—that his life began to change. Taking the child under his wing gave Daiten a renewed sense of purpose. Yuhen's natural aptitude for Vein-Weaving reignited a spark in Daiten, who began to pass on his knowledge with a fervor he hadn't felt in years.
Under Daiten's guidance, Yuhen flourished. He was precise, dedicated, and inventive, qualities that marked him as a prodigy. When he awakened the rare Chrysanthemum Tea Koi Bloodline, the Koicha Clan took notice. This unique bloodline not only amplified Yuhen's Qi-Vein capacity but also granted him the Ability Insight, an extraordinary talent that allowed him to perceive and comprehend Qi structures with unparalleled clarity.
For Daiten, Yuhen's success was both a balm and a burden. While he took pride in his adoptive son's accomplishments, he couldn't shake the shadow of his own failure. Yet, he channeled his lingering strength into supporting Yuhen, even starting a tea business to fund the boy's education and cultivation needs.
In Qi-Vein cultivation, the body's veins serve as conduits for Qi, distributing energy throughout the limbs and core. The legs, in particular, are crucial for stability and grounding, anchoring a cultivator's Qi flow during combat or advanced techniques. For someone like Yuhen, whose Qi control depended on precise, balanced circulation, the loss of his legs was devastating.
The prank that led to his injury was no mere accident. The jealous heir of the Koicha Clan's main branch, threatened by Yuhen's rise, tampered with one of Yuhen's cultivation tools during a demonstration. The resulting explosion severely damaged the Qi-Veins in his legs. While the physical wounds healed, the veins themselves were irreparably scarred, disrupting the flow of Qi and rendering Yuhen unable to cultivate.
For most cultivators, the loss of Qi-Vein functionality in the legs would mark the end of their path. Qi flow requires harmony between all parts of the body, and the damaged veins in Yuhen's legs acted as a blockage, preventing him from harnessing his full potential.
Daiten's heart broke as he watched Yuhen's vibrant future crumble. Determined to heal his adoptive son, he sought out every remedy and expert he could find. But regenerating Qi-Veins was an incredibly complex and costly endeavor, akin to regrowing a severed limb. The resources required were immense, far beyond what Daiten could afford.
His financial struggles were compounded by the debts left behind by his estranged first son. Years earlier, Daiten's son had borrowed heavily from the clan, squandering the money on frivolous pursuits. Daiten, out of guilt and responsibility, took on those debts, leaving him with little to provide for Yuhen's treatment.
Despite these challenges, Daiten never gave up. He worked tirelessly in the tea shop, hoping to save enough for even a glimmer of hope. But as the years passed, reality set in. Healing Yuhen's legs was a dream that remained out of reach.
Yuhen's initial devastation gave way to a quiet resolve. Though he could no longer cultivate, his Ability Insight remained intact, allowing him to excel in theoretical studies. Refusing to be defined by his limitations, he took a position as a teacher at the Clan Academy, sharing his vast knowledge with the next generation of Vein-Weavers.
Yuhen's transition to teaching wasn't without its challenges. Some students, and even fellow instructors, looked down on him for his disability, equating physical capability with worth. But Yuhen's sharp intellect and deep understanding of cultivation quickly silenced his critics. His lessons became sought after, and his insights shaped the paths of many young cultivators.
For Daiten, Yuhen's resilience was both a source of pride and a bittersweet reminder of what had been taken from him. Yet, in their shared struggles, the bond between father and son deepened. Together, they faced the world with quiet determination, finding strength in each other and the small joys of their daily lives.
It was during this time, with Yuhen settled into his new life and Daiten managing the tea shop, that Xianlu arrived. His father, Daiten's estranged son, appeared one night, gaunt and desperate.
"I can't protect him," he said, placing the swaddled infant into Daiten's arms. "Please… take care of him."
And then, like a ghost, he was gone.
Daiten looked down at the tiny bundle. The baby stirred, his intelligent onyx eyes meeting Daiten's weary gaze. In that moment, all of Daiten's bitterness melted away.
Yuhen, however, struggled with conflicting emotions. His foster brother's actions had plunged Daiten into years of hardship, yet here was the innocent product of that man's recklessness. Yuhen clenched his fists, feeling anger rise in his chest.
But then the baby cooed, his small hand reaching out to grasp Yuhen's finger. The anger dissolved, replaced by a profound sense of responsibility.
"He's not to blame," Yuhen murmured to himself. "He's just a child."
---
Raising Xianlu became a labor of love for both Daiten and Yuhen. Each brought their own unique strengths to the task, and together, they created a home filled with warmth and laughter.
From the moment Xianlu began toddling around the house, he filled their lives with a curious energy that neither had felt in years. For Daiten, the boy was a second chance, a chance to be the kind of father figure he wished he had been to his own son. For Yuhen, Xianlu was a reminder that even amidst hardship, joy could bloom.
---
Xianlu's first word wasn't "Papa" or "Uncle" but "tea." It happened one afternoon when he reached for the steaming cup Yuhen was holding. The boy, barely a year old, pointed with determination and babbled, "Tea! Tea!"
Yuhen laughed so hard that he nearly spilled the cup. "Well, at least we know he's a Koicha through and through," he said, wheeling over to Daiten, who beamed with pride.
From that day on, Xianlu was their tiny tea apprentice. He'd sit in Yuhen's lap, watching with wide eyes as his uncle showed him how to measure leaves and pour water just right.
By the time Xianlu was three, his curiosity knew no bounds. He followed Yuhen everywhere, asking an endless stream of questions. One day, as Yuhen adjusted his wheelchair, Xianlu sat cross-legged on the floor, studying the device intently.
"Uncle Yuhen, why do you always sit in that chair?" he asked, his dark eyes wide with innocence.
Yuhen leaned forward, his lips quirking into a smile. "Well, my legs decided they were tired of walking, so now they just rest all the time."
Xianlu gasped dramatically. "That's so silly! Legs can't be tired forever!"
"Mine can," Yuhen replied with a chuckle. "But it's okay. I've got you, haven't I?"
The boy's face lit up. "I'll walk for you, Uncle! I'll be your legs!"
From that day on, Xianlu took it upon himself to push Yuhen's wheelchair whenever they went outside. Although he wasn't strong enough to push very far, his enthusiasm made every effort an adventure.
One morning, as they rolled through the garden, Xianlu paused, puffing out his chest. "Uncle, you're my knight, and I'm your horse!"
Yuhen played along, raising an imaginary sword. "Charge, my noble steed!"
They burst into laughter as Xianlu galloped forward, nearly tipping the chair in his excitement.
Xianlu's empathy became evident early on. One rainy evening, as thunder rattled the windows, he found Daiten staring out into the storm, lost in thought.
"Grandpa," Xianlu said softly, tugging on Daiten's sleeve. "Why are you sad?"
Daiten looked down, startled. "I'm not sad, Xian-Xian. Just… thinking."
"About Papa?" Xianlu asked, his small voice cutting straight to Daiten's heart.
Daiten knelt, pulling the boy into a hug. "Yes, about your Papa. But I'm also thinking about how lucky I am to have you."
The boy grinned, snuggling closer. "Then you're not sad anymore!"
Daiten chuckled, ruffling Xianlu's hair. "Not anymore."
---
By the age of six, Xianlu had become a fixture in the tea shop. Customers adored him, and he quickly earned a reputation as the shop's "little boss."
One afternoon, a regular customer leaned over the counter and smiled at the boy. "You're such a bright child. Takes after his father, I bet."
Daiten, wiping down the counter, froze for a moment. The smile on his face faltered, and his eyes darkened with old memories. "He takes after the best parts of this family," he said quietly.
Later that evening, Yuhen found Daiten sitting alone in the shop, staring at a faded photograph of his first son.
"You miss him, don't you?" Yuhen asked, wheeling closer.
Daiten sighed, the weight of decades etched into his features. "I do. Every day. But I can't change the past." He glanced at the photograph, then at the small tea set Xianlu had been playing with earlier. "All I can do is make sure Xianlu doesn't feel the weight of our mistakes."
---
One of Xianlu's favorite times of the day was just before bedtime when Yuhen would wheel him out to the veranda to watch the stars.
"Uncle, why are stars so far away?" Xianlu asked one night, his chin resting on Yuhen's arm.
"Because they're shy," Yuhen said, his voice warm with mischief. "If they came too close, they'd burn us up with their blushing."
Xianlu giggled, pointing at a particularly bright star. "That one isn't shy. It's looking right at us!"
"Maybe it's looking at you," Yuhen replied. "You're bright enough to make any star jealous."
The boy beamed at the compliment, his laughter ringing out into the night. Moments like these reminded Yuhen of the joy that could be found in life, even amidst challenges.
When Xianlu turned eight, Daiten and Yuhen decided to surprise him with a small celebration. The tea shop was closed for the day, and the three of them spent the morning baking a lopsided cake that leaned precariously to one side.
As they lit the single candle on the cake, Xianlu closed his eyes tightly, making his wish.
"What did you wish for?" Yuhen asked, ruffling the boy's hair.
"I wished for Grandpa and Uncle to be happy forever," Xianlu said brightly. "Because you make me happy!"
Daiten and Yuhen exchanged a glance, both men fighting back tears. In that moment, they realized that Xianlu wasn't just a blessing in their lives—he was their reason to keep going.
As Xianlu grew older, his bond with Daiten and Yuhen only deepened. By the time he was ten, he had become an expert in brewing tea, often surprising customers with blends he had invented himself.
"Someday, I'll run this shop," he declared one evening, puffing out his chest. "And I'll make it the best tea shop in the whole world!"
Daiten laughed, his heart swelling with pride. "I have no doubt you will, Xian-Xian."
"And I'll make a tea just for Uncle!" Xianlu added, grinning at Yuhen. "It'll be called 'Uncle's Resting Legs Tea!'"
Yuhen burst out laughing, shaking his head. "You'd better make it taste good, or I'll make you drink it all."
By the time Xianlu reached his teens, he had become the glue that held their little family together. He inherited Daiten's stubborn determination and Yuhen's sharp wit, creating a personality that was equal parts endearing and maddening.
Though life remained challenging, the love they shared carried them through. For Daiten and Yuhen, Xianlu wasn't just a child—they were his protectors, his teachers, and his biggest fans.
And for Xianlu, his grandfather and uncle were more than family. They were his heroes, his guides, and the source of a love so profound that it shaped the very core of who he was.
At eight years old, Xianlu had already become Yuhen's shadow, following him everywhere he went. His fascination with Qi-Vein cultivation grew stronger by the day, and he spent hours asking questions.
One evening, as Yuhen drew intricate diagrams of Qi pathways on parchment, Xianlu sat cross-legged on the floor, his chin resting in his hands.
"Why can't you use Qi anymore, Uncle?" Xianlu asked, tilting his head in curiosity.
Yuhen smiled, setting his brush down. "Because my legs are stubborn, remember? But that's okay. I get to teach you instead."
"I'll learn everything you teach me!" Xianlu declared, his eyes bright with determination.
Yuhen ruffled his hair. "I don't doubt it, Xian-Xian."
From then on, Xianlu became his uncle's most devoted student, soaking up every bit of knowledge Yuhen shared.
By the time Xianlu turned ten, he had taken on more responsibilities, both at the Academy and the family's tea shop. At the library, he helped Yuhen organize and clean, earning the admiration of the Academy staff for his diligence.
One day, as he carefully dusted a shelf of ancient tomes, Yuhen wheeled over to him with a smile.
"You've been working so hard, Xian-Xian," he said. "The Academy Council has decided to let you read whatever you want here."
Xianlu's eyes widened in excitement. "Really? I can read all the books?"
"All the books," Yuhen confirmed.
Xianlu threw himself into his studies, devouring texts on history, cultivation theory, and Vein-Weaving techniques. Though he couldn't cultivate himself just yet since he is still a child, his understanding of Qi quickly surpassed many of the Academy's students.
At the tea shop, Xianlu became the star attraction. Customers adored his charming demeanor and striking appearance. One elderly patron affectionately called him their "lucky charm," a nickname that stuck.
At thirteen, Xianlu's curiosity about Qi-Vein cultivation reached a peak. One evening, perched on the edge of Yuhen's desk, he made his intentions clear.
"Uncle," he said earnestly, "I want to learn. Teach me how to cultivate."
Yuhen saw the fire in Xianlu's eyes—the same fire he had once had. "If you're serious, Xian-Xian, we'll test your aptitude during the Clan's annual testing."
The weeks leading up to the test were filled with excitement. Daiten and Yuhen both supported Xianlu, helping him prepare through meditation and breathing exercises.
When the day of the test arrived, Xianlu stood among his peers, his delicate features set in a mask of determination. But when the results came, his heart sank.
"Disqualified," the examiner announced. "His veins are in disarray—impossible to channel Qi properly."
The words felt like a blow, but before despair could take hold, Yuhen wheeled over and placed a comforting hand on Xianlu's shoulder.
"Your worth isn't determined by this, Xian-Xian," he said firmly. "You're more than your veins. We'll find another way."
Xianlu wiped his tears and nodded. "I won't give up, Uncle. I'll find my path."
At fifteen, Xianlu had fully embraced his role at the Academy library, where he now spent most of his time helping Yuhen and studying. Though he couldn't practice Qi, his theoretical knowledge made him an invaluable assistant in his uncle's classes.
"Books are better teachers than people sometimes," Yuhen joked one evening as they sorted dusty tomes together.
Xianlu smiled. "Then I'll learn from the best teacher and the best books."
His dedication didn't go unnoticed. At the Academy, struggling students often sought his guidance, finding his calm explanations and quiet encouragement inspiring.
At the tea shop, Xianlu's popularity continued to grow. One afternoon, as he served tea to a group of elderly customers, one of them patted his hand.
"You're a treasure, young man," she said warmly. "Your grandfather and uncle must be so proud."
Xianlu blushed, glancing toward Daiten, who was tending the counter. "I'm the lucky one," he replied softly.
By the time Xianlu turned sixteen, he had transformed into a striking young man. His raven-black hair fell in soft waves, framing his delicate, almost ethereal features. His onyx eyes held a quiet intensity that contrasted beautifully with his porcelain skin, making him seem like a living doll—a presence so mesmerizing that people often found themselves staring.
But Xianlu was not just a pretty face. Beneath his outward grace lay a heart full of resilience and a mind as sharp as a blade.
One evening, as the family sat together in the tea shop after closing, Xianlu spoke up.
"Grandpa, Uncle, I've been thinking," he began, his voice steady. "I want to take everything you've taught me and do something meaningful with it."
Daiten raised an eyebrow, sipping his tea. "Oh? And what's that, young man?"
"I want to help people like us," Xianlu said, his tone resolute. "People who've faced setbacks, who've been told they can't do something. I want to show them that they can still make a difference."
Yuhen smiled, his chest swelling with pride. "You've already started, Xian-Xian. And I have no doubt you'll do even more."
As they sat together, the love they shared was palpable—a bond forged through trials, strengthened by perseverance, and filled with hope for the future.
For Daiten and Yuhen, Xianlu wasn't just a child. He was their legacy, their redemption, and their greatest joy. And for Xianlu, his grandfather and uncle were his foundation, his teachers, and his unshakable source of love. Together, they were a family, ready to face whatever came next.