Dragon's Descent [Xianxia, Reverse Cultivation]

Dawn arrived at the Azure Waters Sect with the nervous energy of a student arriving late to an examination, and Xiaolong discovered that being a revealed dragon came with complications no ancient text had bothered to mention.

The first sign of trouble manifested when she encountered Junior Disciple Chen in the morning courtyard. The boy spotted her approach from thirty paces and immediately launched into what could only be described as a full prostration—not the respectful bow she'd grown accustomed to, but a complete collapse that left him spread across the courtyard stones like spilled ink.

"Ten thousand greetings to the Honored Dragon!" he announced to the flagstones, his voice muffled by proximity to granite. "This insignificant disciple begs forgiveness for existing in your magnificent presence!"

Xiaolong paused, studying the boy's prone form. Yesterday, Chen had been perfectly capable of normal conversation. Today, he seemed to have confused her with a visiting emperor.

"Chen," she said gently, "please stand up. The stones are still filthy."

"This lowly one dares not rise without permission!"

"You have permission."

"This unworthy worm thanks the Great Dragon for her boundless mercy!"

The boy remained determinedly horizontal.

Xiaolong looked around the courtyard, hoping someone might appear to translate teenager into something approaching sense. Instead, she discovered that Chen's performance had attracted an audience of early-rising disciples who watched the proceedings with the fascinated attention of people observing an exotic animal feeding.

"Chen," she tried again, "I'm going to breakfast. You're welcome to join me, but only if you're willing to sit in a chair like a normal person."

This seemed to create some sort of philosophical crisis. Chen's head lifted slightly from the stones, revealing a face torn between terror and confusion.

"Honored Dragon wishes to... eat... with this insignificant one?"

"I wish to eat," Xiaolong corrected patiently, "and you're welcome to do the same. Nearby. Using utensils and chairs."

Chen struggled to his feet with the careful movements of someone unsure whether standing constituted disrespect to cosmic beings. His robes bore decorative stone dust, and his hair had acquired several small pebbles that gave him the appearance of someone recently emerged from a landslide.

"Would the Great Dragon prefer this humble disciple to walk three paces behind, or would five paces better demonstrate appropriate reverence?"

Xiaolong's morning was developing the quality of a fever dream. "How about you walk beside me and tell me about your cultivation progress, like you did last week?"

The suggestion seemed to strike Chen as roughly equivalent to proposing they dance naked through the sect while singing drinking songs. His eyes widened, and his jaw went slack.

"This unworthy one could never presume to bore the Magnificent Dragon with trivial mortal concerns!"

"My interest in your progress isn't trivial."

"But surely the Ancient Wisdom requires discussion of cosmic matters befitting one of your tremendous power and infinite knowledge!"

Xiaolong rubbed her temples, feeling the first stirrings of what promised to be a spectacular headache. "Chen, yesterday you were worried about your water-walking technique. Did you practice like I suggested?"

"The Sacred Dragon remembers this lowly worm's pathetic struggles!"

"I remember because I care about your improvement, not because it's particularly memorable. Now, did you practice or not?"

Chen's mouth opened and closed several times, creating the impression of a fish attempting to recite poetry. Finally, he managed a strangled whisper. "This insignificant one attempted the honored technique, though surely such feeble efforts disgrace the Dragon's wise counsel."

"Show me."

The command seemed to reach some primitive survival instinct beneath Chen's deference. He stood frozen for several heartbeats, then shuffled toward the nearest water feature—a decorative pond that had served for informal practice sessions in the past.

Chen's water-walking attempt bore all the grace of a duck with vertigo. He managed three wobbling steps before plunging into the pond with a splash that sent ornamental koi fleeing for deeper water. When he surfaced, dripping and mortified, his expression suggested he expected immediate retribution for failing to perform adequately in a dragon's presence.

"Better balance than last time," Xiaolong observed. "Your qi distribution has improved. Try shifting your weight slightly forward—not too much—and imagine the water surface as solid ground rather than something you need to float across."

Chen stared at her as if she had just sprouted additional heads. "The Benevolent Dragon offers instruction to this worthless failure?"

"I offer instruction because teaching helps students improve. That's generally how learning works."

Something seemed to shift in the boy's thoughts. His expression wavered, caught between unthinking reverence and the realization that proper disciples received guidance, not punishment.

Other disciples continued to gather around the scene, their whispered conversations creating a low buzz of speculation that made Xiaolong's headache intensify.

She decided to abandon the morning practice session in favor of breakfast, hoping that food might restore some semblance of normalcy to the day's proceedings.

The dining hall proved that Chen's behavior was not an isolated incident when she entered to find thirty-seven people frozen in various stages of eating, as if some cosmic force had transformed them into a tableau titled "Awkward Contemplation of Porridge."

The silence stretched, during which the sound of a single grain of rice hitting a plate seemed louder than a thunderstorm.

Senior Brother Wang held his spoon halfway to his mouth, porridge dripping back into his bowl with soft plops that seemed thunderous in the unnatural quiet. Junior Sister Liu had paused mid-chew, her cheeks bulging like a startled squirrel's. Even the serving disciples stood motionless beside their ladles, uncertain whether continuing to dish out breakfast constituted some form of cosmic impoliteness.

Elder Liu and Elder Wei occupied their customary place at the head table, serenely enjoying their morning meal while the rest of the world froze around them.

"Good morning," Xiaolong said, employing the same tone she had used every day since arriving at the sect. She could accept the inevitability of change, but refusing to reinforce this sudden and awkward formality felt like rebellion against nonsense.

Every disciple in the hall shot to their feet with the synchronized enthusiasm of a military parade, porridge bowls clattering and chopsticks scattering across tables. The noise sounded like a small percussion ensemble falling down a flight of stairs.

"Good morning, Honored Dragon!" they chorused, their voices overlapping in a chaotic jumble that drowned any individual words in a wave of audible panic.

Xiaolong closed her eyes for a moment, drew a deep breath, and opened them again to discover that reality had not, in fact, become less ridiculous in the interim.

"Please, continue eating," she said, channeling her best Li Feng impression and hoping his effortless authority might have been contagious.

Nobody moved.

She stood there, studying the assembly of upright disciples who seemed to have forgotten how chairs functioned. Despite their usual agility and discipline, their postures radiated the uncomfortable rigidity of people uncertain whether relaxing would constitute blasphemy.

Elder Liu cleared her throat, a delicate sound that carried surprising weight. At this signal, every disciple quietly sat down again and returned to their meals with the hushed, anxious obedience of children who feared attracting a parent's attention.

Xiaolong sighed and moved toward her usual seat beside Li Feng, who had maintained his position throughout the chaos. His expression mixed amusement with sympathy, though she noticed he was carefully not making eye contact with his fellow disciples.

"Well," Li Feng murmured, passing her a bowl, "that was festive."

Xiaolong accepted the porridge and glanced around the hall. Normal breakfast conversation had been replaced by nearly silent whispering, and she felt dozens of covert glances dart toward her before hastily retreating.

Every spoonful she took seemed to generate intense scrutiny from her neighbors. When she reached for the preserved vegetables, half the table leaned forward as if her preferences in porridge toppings were an epic tale they were desperate not to spoil by interrupting her. The simple act of drinking tea created a ripple of whispered commentary that traveled around the hall like a wave.

"Does she prefer jasmine or oolong?"

"I heard dragons only drink from jade cups."

"Should we have offered spring water instead?"

"Do you think she can taste the fear in our cooking?"

The last comment came from one of the kitchen disciples, whose voice carried the genuine distress of someone whose professional reputation rested on an ancient dragon's opinion of a hastily prepared vegetarian breakfast.

Xiaolong set down her tea cup with exaggerated care, hoping to reduce the anxiety level before someone fainted into their breakfast.

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"The porridge is excellent," she announced to the hall. "The preserved vegetables are particularly well-balanced. And the tea..." She paused to take another sip, aware that every eye tracked the movement of her cup to her lips. "The tea is exactly as good as it was yesterday."

This reassurance had the opposite effect she'd intended. Instead of relaxing, people began analyzing her words for hidden meanings, as if she were a visiting grandmaster employing obscure metaphor to impart some deep truth about the Dao.

"Exactly as good as yesterday," someone repeated in wondering tones. "Do you think that's significant?"

"Maybe it's a teaching about the continuity of simple pleasures?"

"Or a commentary on the illusion of temporal change?"

Xiaolong looked helplessly at Li Feng, who had given up trying to hide his amusement. His shoulders shook with suppressed laughter, though he maintained enough diplomatic composure to avoid making the situation worse.

The breakfast ordeal concluded when people began leaving their seats in reverse order of seniority, starting with junior disciples while elders continued eating.

Eventually, Elder Wei rose and nodded toward the hall, which everyone interpreted as permission to evacuate. The exodus occurred in waves, with people bowing toward Xiaolong's table as they passed, muttering respectful greetings before fleeing as quickly as decorum allowed.

When the last disciple had departed, Elder Wei sighed and rubbed his temples. "Perhaps we were overly optimistic about how smoothly this would go."

"Perhaps." Elder Liu sipped her tea, looking unfazed. "Fortunately, this awkwardness is transient."

"True." Wei managed a wry chuckle. "Though I suspect the next few days will feel longer to some than others."

They exchanged a meaningful glance, both their gazes sliding toward Xiaolong, who had abandoned all pretense of appetite and was staring into her porridge as if contemplating drowning in the creamy mush.

She looked up to find them regarding her with a blend of amusement and apology. "I apologize for disrupting your morning."

Li Feng's hand settled over hers beneath the table, squeezing gently. "They'll adjust, and so will you," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. "Your presence here is a gift, not a disruption."

The simple touch, that silent declaration of shared experience and mutual protection, eased a tension she hadn't been able to define. Some part of her spirit unclenched, loosened by the reassuring contact.

The two elders stood, exchanged bows, and departed, leaving Li Feng and Xiaolong to the peace of an empty dining hall.

"I think," Li Feng said once they were alone, "yesterday's revelation may have created some unintended consequences."

"You think?"

Their eyes met, his brimming with laughter, hers sparkling with wry humor. They leaned together, shoulders touching, and smiled.

"The question is whether this will improve with time or require direct intervention."

As if summoned by his words, Meihua appeared at their table. The young disciple carried a leather-bound notebook, several brushes, and an ink stone that suggested she had come prepared for extensive documentation.

"Honored Teacher," she began formally, then paused to make a note. "Is 'Honored Teacher' the correct form of address, or would you prefer 'Revered Master' or perhaps 'Esteemed Dragon'?"

"Xiaolong is fine," she replied, watching Meihua scribble frantically.

"'Xiaolong is fine' for formal occasions or casual interaction? Should I differentiate between public and private settings?"

"Meihua," Li Feng interjected gently, "perhaps you could slow down slightly."

The girl looked up from her notebook, her expression carrying the intense focus of someone attempting to solve a critical puzzle. "But, Senior Brother, I'm trying to establish proper protocols for dragon-disciple relationships. The classical texts provide no guidance for this situation, so I'm creating a comprehensive reference manual based on direct observation."

She opened her notebook to display pages covered in meticulous handwriting, detailed diagrams, and occasional sketches.

"You've been working on this since yesterday?" Xiaolong asked, studying the elaborate documentation.

"Since before dawn," Meihua confirmed. "I've identified seventeen distinct categories of interaction that require specific etiquette guidelines, from casual greetings to formal instruction sessions. Each category has subcategories based on location, time of day, presence of witnesses, and your apparent mood state."

"My mood state?"

"Physical indicators," the girl replied promptly, flipping to a different page covered with anatomical sketches. "Posture, breathing patterns, eye movement frequency, subtle changes in spiritual pressure. I've been correlating these observations with your responses to different conversational approaches."

The sketches were disturbingly detailed. One diagram showed various positions of her eyebrows with annotations like "mild amusement" and "contemplative patience." Another tracked the angle of her shoulders in relation to different emotional states.

"You've been... studying me? Like a specimen?"

"Like a teacher whose preferences I want to understand correctly," Meihua corrected earnestly. "Proper respect requires proper knowledge. If I'm going to be your first disciple, I should know how to serve that role appropriately."

Li Feng leaned over to examine the notebook's contents. His eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. "These diagrams are... thorough."

"Thank you," Meihua beamed. "I've also been documenting optimal interaction strategies for other sect members. Junior Brother Chen asked me to determine the acceptable frequency for casual conversation attempts. Senior Sister Liu wants to know if she should avert her eyes during formal greetings. And Master Zhen requested guidelines for discussing plant-related topics without presuming too much familiarity."

"People are asking you for advice about talking to me?"

"Constantly," Meihua confirmed. "Everyone wants to show proper respect, but nobody knows what proper respect looks like in this context. They're hoping my position as your disciple gives me special insight into dragon preferences."

"And does it?"

Meihua's confident expression faltered slightly. "I'm... learning. The documentation helps organize my observations, but I admit the patterns aren't entirely clear yet."

This admission revealed the fundamental problem lurking beneath her meticulous note-taking. Meihua's perfectionist nature had encountered a situation with no established standards, and her response was to create standards through exhaustive analysis. Unfortunately, her analysis was based on the assumption that dragons operated according to discoverable rules rather than simple personal preference.

"Would it be helpful," Xiaolong said gently, "if I simply told people how I prefer to be treated?"

"But what if your preferences vary by situation?" Meihua asked, her voice carrying genuine distress. "What if direct questions seem presumptuous? What if people misinterpret your instructions and make everything worse?"

The girl's anxiety was palpable. She had volunteered to be a bridge between dragon and human social customs, only to discover that both sides expected her to possess expertise she hadn't actually acquired.

"Meihua," Li Feng said kindly, "perhaps the manual could be simplified. Basic guidelines rather than comprehensive protocols?"

"Simplified how?" she asked, looking genuinely bewildered. "There are so many variables to consider. Context, audience, formality level, cultural sensitivity, power dynamics..."

Her voice rose with each additional factor, and Li Feng rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Breathe," he advised. "Deeper breaths. There. Now, imagine the most important factor is respect. What is the foundation of respectful behavior?"

Meihua pondered this, her brows furrowing in concentration. "Respect begins with acknowledging another's dignity and agency," she recited, quoting some textbook on etiquette. "Courtesy flows from mutual acknowledgment of equal worth."

"Exactly," Li Feng confirmed. "How do you think Xiaolong could best express her dignity and agency in this context?"

Meihua's expression changed. Her gaze turned inward as the convoluted web of social protocols rearranged itself around a single, uncomplicated principle.

"Maybe..." she began, hesitant at first, then more confident. "Maybe Honored Teacher could teach us how to interact with her. Not in formal rules, but in natural expressions of her preferences and limits."

Li Feng smiled. "And as she communicates her desires and boundaries directly, people might learn to trust her guidance without external instruction."

The girl's eyes widened. "So the best way to create a dragon etiquette manual might be to not create a dragon etiquette manual?"

"Sometimes," Li Feng agreed, "simple honesty requires more courage than elaborate courtesy."

Meihua considered this, nodded slowly, and turned to face Xiaolong. "Honored Teacher, I apologize for attempting to create protocols on your behalf. I was trying to serve as an intermediary, but Senior Brother has helped me see that my role here should be more... facilitative."

"Thank you, Meihua," Xiaolong replied, genuinely touched by the girl's earnestness. "I don't need an intermediary. I need an apprentice willing to learn from me directly, flaws and all."

The last phrase brought a wry smile to Li Feng's lips. She elbowed him lightly beneath the table.

Meihua's pen hovered over her notebook. "May I continue documenting your behaviors and teaching methods? For personal study rather than external dissemination?"

"I'd be honored," Xiaolong assured her. "Just please don't feel the need to document my every breath."

Meihua blushed slightly and made a brief notation. "Understood. I'll limit my observations to significant actions and patterns."

"That sounds reasonable."

"And when people ask me questions about dragon preferences?"

"Tell them to ask me directly. I promise not to transform anyone into pond scum for presuming on my attention."

Meihua's laugh carried a hint of hysteria, as if this possibility had crossed her mind.

"I think," she said, carefully closing her notebook, "my perfectionist tendencies may not be ideal for navigating unprecedented social situations."

"Perfectionism rarely is," Xiaolong observed. "Most relationships require more flexibility than can be captured in flowcharts."

"Speaking of relationships," Li Feng said, his tone carefully neutral, "I should mention that several people have asked me about appropriate ways to interact with you now that they know your true nature."

"What sort of people?"

"Disciples who want to request cultivation advice. Elders who aren't sure about your position in sect hierarchy. And others who feel I might have insights into..." He glanced away, a hint of color appearing in his cheeks. "Into your... preferences and aversions."

Meihua's pen hovered over her notebook, her gaze darting between them with a speculative gleam.

Xiaolong kept her voice mild. "And what have you told them?"

"I've directed their inquiries to you," he replied smoothly. "While affirming my unwavering support for your choices."

"A prudent decision."

"Your magnanimity is exceeded only by your patience."

Meihua scribbled frantically in her notebook, her eyebrows drawn together in concentration.

"You're both smiling," she murmured absently, as if reminding herself of some key detail. "This is a happy conversation?"

"Yes," they replied simultaneously.

"Good," Meihua said, her pen flying over the page. She underlined something emphatically, then looked up, her expression resolute. "I've decided to simplify my observations by focusing on nonverbal communication rather than verbal content."

"A reasonable approach," Xiaolong agreed.

"Oh, and one last question about honorifics—"

"Meihua," she interrupted gently, "please just call me Xiaolong. Or, if you'd prefer to acknowledge our relationship, you could address me as 'Honored Master' in public and 'Xiaolong' privately."

The girl's gaze grew distant, as if she were sifting through her encyclopedic knowledge of etiquette to determine the correct response.

"Honored Master," she declared at last, offering a formal bow. "I shall endeavor to conduct myself appropriately."

"Meihua," Li Feng added, "please remember to act like a disciple, not an emissary. This is not a diplomatic negotiation, it's an apprenticeship."

She nodded, bowed to him as well, and made a final notation in her notebook. "Thank you for the clarification, Senior Brother."

After Meihua departed, Li Feng chuckled softly and leaned close again. "She's diligent," he murmured, "if somewhat overzealous."

Xiaolong squeezed his hand. "Fortunately, she has a patient mentor to guide her."

The two exchanged a playful glance, understanding that the girl's challenges would be theirs as well. If she succeeded in finding her equilibrium, their entire sect would benefit. If she failed...

"We're in for an interesting year," Li Feng remarked lightly.

Xiaolong laughed, a clear sound that banished the lingering discomfort in the hall. "Interesting indeed."

Li Feng laced their fingers together as he reached for the teapot. "Let us take one interesting moment at a time, shall we?"