Chapter 68: Food For Thought
Meihua sat in her chambers that evening, staring at the three meat buns she had arranged in a perfect line across her writing desk. The buns represented a problem of methodology that her analytical mind struggled to categorize.
On one hand, consuming them would constitute stress-eating, which Master Huang's lectures on cultivation health had explicitly discouraged. Emotional eating disrupted qi circulation and clouded mental clarity, according to the texts she had memorized.
On the other hand, she had purchased these particular buns during her lunch break specifically because the vendor's wife had mentioned they contained ginger root harvested from the sect's own herb gardens. This made them technically medicinal food rather than mere emotional comfort.
The distinction mattered. Medicinal consumption served cultivation purposes. Stress-eating served no productive function whatsoever.
She picked up the first bun and examined its construction with the same attention she applied to cultivation manuals. The dough had been kneaded to optimal elasticity, folded according to traditional techniques, and steamed until the exterior achieved perfect texture. The filling visible through a small tear in the wrapping contained properly diced vegetables alongside the ginger, which her heightened spiritual senses perceived as faint wisps of aromatic essence.
A medicinal snack, therefore. She took a bite, savoring the balance of savory and medicinal tastes. Her spirit calmed. Her qi circulated more smoothly. Everything was as it should be.
Then her gaze drifted to the journal she had been working on before her hunger pangs had become distracting enough to require a therapeutic solution.
The next bite she took was more of a gnaw, the dough offering physical resistance to her sudden stress response. She chewed longer than was strictly necessary, watching the steam curl away from the pages she had painstakingly filled with observations.
Her painstaking observations. Each stroke of the brush had been planned and executed according to her analytical nature. Notes became data, data transformed into knowledge, knowledge paved the path toward understanding. She knew her journals held valuable insights. Knew it to the depths of her spirit, even if none of the other sect members recognized the significance.
After all, her notes were coded. Only Meihua herself could interpret the carefully constructed system of metaphors, symbols, and allusions she had devised to preserve the sanctity of Xiaolong's behavior.
As a dragon's disciple, she had a sacred duty to protect her master's privacy as well as her own.
But everything about her new role as Xiaolong's disciple contained ambiguities that resisted systematic analysis.
Take today's incident behind the azalea, for example. Her decision to hide from well-meaning sect members had been strategically sound—avoiding confrontation prevented the sort of complicated explanations that invariably led to more questions.
Yet Xiaolong had clearly disapproved of the hiding itself, viewing it as a problem requiring intervention rather than a reasonable solution to avoidant circumstances.
The contradiction puzzled her. If direct communication was the preferred approach to dragon-disciple relations, as Xiaolong had emphasized repeatedly, then why did other disciples continue treating her as an intermediary despite explicit instructions to the contrary?
"Another complication in need of categorization."
She consumed the second bun while contemplating this question, her analytical mind sorting through possible explanations with methodical thoroughness.
Theory One: People found direct communication with dragons inherently intimidating, regardless of Xiaolong's approachable demeanor. This theory had supporting evidence in the form of nervous stuttering, excessive bowing, and formal language that appeared whenever sect members addressed Xiaolong directly.
Theory Two: The hierarchical nature of sect organization had conditioned disciples to seek guidance through established channels rather than approaching authority figures independently. Since no established protocols existed for dragon interaction, people defaulted to treating her as the nearest equivalent to a proper channel.
Theory Three: Her own perfectionist tendencies had created expectations that she possessed specialized knowledge about dragon preferences, and people's assumptions had become self-reinforcing despite all evidence to the contrary.
The third theory made her pause mid-chew. Had she inadvertently encouraged people's misconceptions through her own behavior?
She recalled her notebook from the revelation ceremony, filled with detailed observations about optimal interaction protocols. Her systematic approach to documentation had certainly given the impression that she was conducting scholarly research rather than simply trying to understand her new teacher.
The realization settled in her stomach like a cold stone. Her perfectionist instincts had created the very problem that was now disrupting her cultivation progress.
She reached for the third bun, then stopped. This particular craving had nothing to do with ginger root or nutritional balance. This was definitely stress-eating, and acknowledging it honestly represented better cultivation practice than elaborate self-justification.
Instead, she pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and began writing.
Personal Cultivation Analysis: Discipleship Challenges and Adaptive Strategies
Writing helped organize her thoughts when direct contemplation proved insufficient. The physical act of forming characters with brush and ink created a rhythm that settled her mind, while the visual representation of concepts made abstract problems more manageable.
Primary Challenge: Role confusion between student and expert
Contributing Factors:
Perfectionist tendency to over-prepare for unclear situations
Sect members' assumptions about disciple responsibilities
Lack of precedent for dragon-human teaching relationships
Current Symptoms:
Avoidance behavior (hiding behind garden features)
Stress-related eating patterns
Disrupted sleep and meal schedules
Inability to focus on actual cultivation studies
Seeing the problems listed in neat categories made them feel more tractable. These were specific issues with identifiable causes, not overwhelming personal failures requiring dramatic solutions.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Potential Remedies:
Redirect inquiries consistently to Honored Master Xiaolong
Establish clear boundaries regarding consultation requests
Focus on personal learning rather than teaching others
Develop standard responses to common misconceptions
The fourth point sparked an idea. Rather than creating elaborate protocols for other people, she could prepare simple explanations for her own use. Brief, clear statements that redirected inappropriate questions without requiring lengthy justifications or theoretical discussions.
She began drafting responses:
"I'm still learning from Honored Master Xiaolong myself. Please address your questions to her directly."
"My role is student, not interpreter. She's much better qualified to explain her own preferences."
"Dragon etiquette isn't something I've been taught separately from regular cultivation principles."
The phrases felt natural rather than formal, honest rather than defensive. Most importantly, they required no specialized knowledge beyond acknowledging her own limitations.
A soft knock at her door interrupted her writing. She set down her brush and opened the door to find Senior Brother Ming Lian holding a covered basket that smelled distinctly of steamed vegetables.
"Evening, Junior Sister," he said with his characteristic irreverent grin. "I come bearing actual dinner, since several people mentioned you'd been surviving on portable food today."
Heat rose in her cheeks. "That's very considerate, Senior Brother, though unnecessary. I had a proper meal at midday."
"One proper meal doesn't compensate for three days of meat bun subsistence." Ming Lian invited himself into her chambers with the casual confidence of someone whose concern overrode social protocols. "Besides, I wanted to check how you're adjusting to your new status as our resident dragon expert."
"I'm not a dragon expert!" The words burst out with more force than she had intended.
Ming Lian's eyebrows rose. "Clearly a sensitive topic. My apologies for the poor jest."
She took a steadying breath. "No, I apologize for the outburst. The situation has been... challenging to navigate."
"I imagine so." Ming Lian set the basket on her desk, moving her abandoned meat bun to make space. His gaze took in her writing materials and the half-finished analysis. "Working late on cultivation theory?"
"Personal reflection on discipleship challenges." She gestured toward the paper. "Attempting to apply systematic analysis to recent difficulties."
"Ah. The old 'if I organize it properly, I can solve it' approach." Ming Lian's tone carried understanding rather than mockery. "How's that working out?"
"Better than hiding behind plants," she admitted.
"Lower bar for success than usual, but we all start somewhere." He uncovered the basket, revealing rice, properly steamed vegetables, and what appeared to be her favorite fish preparation. "Eat while it's warm. Analysis is more effective on a properly nourished brain."
The thoughtfulness of the gesture—remembering her food preferences, bringing actual nutrition rather than treats, timing the visit to coincide with her evening study period—made her throat tighten unexpectedly.
"Thank you, Senior Brother. This is very kind."
"Kindness has nothing to do with it. Practical necessity." Ming Lian settled onto the cushion across from her desk. "Stressed disciples make poor cultivation partners, and I have selfish reasons for wanting you functional."
The casual deflection of her gratitude was characteristic, but she recognized the genuine care beneath his flippant manner. Ming Lian had always demonstrated this particular form of consideration—meeting emotional needs through practical solutions while avoiding sentimental discussions.
She began eating the rice, noting how proper food improved her mental clarity almost immediately. The vegetables had been seasoned with exactly the right combination of herbs, and the fish was prepared according to the method she preferred but rarely requested due to its complexity.
"Senior Brother," she said between bites, "may I ask you something about sect social dynamics?"
"Fire away."
"When you were a junior disciple, did people ever ask you to explain the preferences and opinions of your teachers?"
Ming Lian considered this. "Not in the way you mean. People asked about specific techniques or training methods, but nobody expected me to interpret Elder Wei's personal philosophy or predict his reactions to hypothetical situations."
"Then why do people assume I understand Honored Master Xiaolong's thoughts and preferences?"
"Because dragons are mythical beings and people don't know how to process having one around." Ming Lian's directness cut through the complicated explanations she had been constructing. "They're treating you like a cultural translator instead of a cultivation student."
The simple assessment clarified weeks of confusion. "So the problem isn't my inadequacy as a disciple, but their misconceptions about what discipleship means in this context."
"Exactly. Though your perfectionist response to their misconceptions hasn't helped matters."
She paused with her chopsticks halfway to her mouth. "My response?"
"The notebook full of behavioral observations? The detailed analysis of dragon social preferences? The systematic documentation of optimal interaction protocols?" Ming Lian's enumeration was gentle but thorough. "All well-intentioned, but it reinforced people's assumptions that you were becoming an expert on dragon psychology."
The criticism stung because it was accurate. Her instinctive response to unclear situations was always research and organization, but in this case, her efforts to understand had been interpreted as efforts to establish expertise.
"I was trying to be a good student," she said quietly.
"I know. But good students in impossible situations sometimes need to accept that some things can't be studied in advance." Ming Lian leaned forward slightly. "Have you considered that your actual role might be simpler than you're making it?"
"What do you mean?"
"What if being Xiaolong's disciple just means learning from her, the same way being Elder Wei's student means learning water cultivation? No special knowledge, no cultural expertise, no administrative responsibilities. Just... learning."
The simplicity of the proposal stunned her. She had been so focused on the unprecedented nature of dragon discipleship that she had lost sight of the fundamental similarities to every other teacher-student relationship in the sect.
Had she really created this intricate mess herself, building layers of expectations where none existed?
"That would eliminate most of the complications I've been struggling with," she admitted.
"Most complications dissolve when you stop creating them."
She finished her meal in thoughtful silence, processing the implications of this reframing. If her role was simply to learn from Xiaolong rather than to become an expert on dragons, then other people's expectations became irrelevant to her actual responsibilities.
"Senior Brother, thank you for the meal and the perspective. Both were needed."
"Good. Now get some proper sleep instead of staying up all night analyzing yourself into knots." Ming Lian collected the empty dishes. "Tomorrow's a new day for being a regular disciple instead of a walking encyclopedia."
After he left, Meihua looked at her half-finished analysis paper. The systematic approach had helped organize her thoughts, but Ming Lian's simple reframing had accomplished more than pages of detailed documentation.
She set the paper aside and prepared for sleep, feeling lighter than she had in days. Tomorrow she would practice being a student instead of trying to be an expert.
The remaining meat bun sat abandoned on her desk, no longer necessary for comfort or stress management.
Progress, she decided, took many forms.