Li Xuan observed the small silver cat, Miao, nestled in his arms, behaving with the unnatural decorum of a scholar at an imperial banquet. It was, Li Xuan mused, quite the well-mannered creature, especially for a stray he’d found rummaging through discarded fish bones. He hadn’t quite fathomed why the esteemed Master Ling and the ethereal Lin Fei had regarded the animal with such wide-eyed reverence yesterday, as if it were a rare celestial beast rather than a particularly fluffy common alley cat. Perhaps, he conceded, it was indeed a breed more exotic than the usual Yanwu City feline, though he himself couldn't discern any grand lineage beyond its penchant for naps and the occasional purr that vibrated like a distant zither string. His surprise was, therefore, not insignificant when Lin Fei reappeared at his humble apothecary the following morning. Li Xuan, ever the quiet observer, had a clear memory of the previous evening's peculiar domestic melodrama involving Lin Fei’s rather intense 'husband.' Now, beholding her vibrant, delicate countenance, her eyes shining with an almost unsettling energy, it was indeed a sight difficult to dismiss, even for someone as prone to overlooking the obvious as Li Xuan. He recalled their initial encounter, Lin Fei drenched and listless, her spirit seemingly extinguished, a mere shadow drifting through the rain-slicked streets. The contrast to her current spirited beauty was striking. She looked, he decided, objectively 'much better.' While Li Xuan harbored no illusions of self-importance—he was, after all, just a herbalist who dispensed common remedies and occasionally offered shelter from the elements—he couldn't help but entertain the fleeting thought that perhaps his simple act of kindness, that bowl of forgettable decoction, had somehow contributed to untangling a knot in her heart. But of course, he wouldn’t voice such a preposterous notion. He was a mere mortal physician, entirely unremarkable. To suggest he possessed such profound influence would be to don the robes of a 'big-tailed wolf,' inviting only misunderstanding and potentially, scorn. Meanwhile, Master Ling, who had joined Lin Fei, was engaged in a rather profound internal crisis. Since his first glimpse of Li Xuan the previous day, the esteemed elder of the Lin clan had been utterly perplexed. This ‘young man,’ who appeared no older than three decades, was, in Master Ling's educated estimation, an enigma. He possessed not a shred of perceptible *qi*—no flowing meridians, no spiritual fluctuations, no hint of cultivation whatsoever. Yet, this very absence spoke volumes, suggesting a realm of mastery so profound it transcended the conventional definitions of spiritual prowess, a true 'return to simplicity' that was the hallmark of legendary recluses. Such a state was far beyond the ken of an ordinary cultivator, let alone a mere mortal. And then there was the cat. The creature Li Xuan treated with such casual affection, referring to it as 'Miao,' was, to Master Ling’s discerning spiritual senses, a terrifying entity. Though he couldn’t *perceive* it directly—its essence seemingly cloaked in an impenetrable veil of ordinariness—a primal instinct screamed danger. This was no common feline; it vibrated with an ancient, untamed power, a spiritual pressure that spoke of a demon beast having endured countless tribulations, perhaps even of the dreaded *Celestial Calamity* itself. Yet, on Li Xuan, there was nothing. Only that baffling, almost ethereal serenity, a natural affinity that seemed to draw all things, sentient or otherwise, into a state of inexplicable peace. This profound 'back-to-basics' aura, coupled with the presence of a tribulation-period demon beast casually napping in his lap, instilled in Master Ling a deep, almost paralyzing awe and dread. A mortal, or even a cultivator of his own *Distraction Period* realm, could not possibly see through such a being. Li Xuan, he concluded with a tremor, was a hidden master of incomprehensible power, an ancient immortal disguised in humble cloth, or perhaps something even more unfathomable. “And who might this be?” Li Xuan inquired, his gaze only now settling on Master Ling. He felt a fleeting sense of familiarity, a vague echo of a face glimpsed somewhere, perhaps in a crowded marketplace or a teahouse. But it was just a passing thought. Lin Fei, being a 'beautiful woman,' had naturally left a more distinct impression. This man… well, he just looked like a man. Seeing Li Xuan finally acknowledge him, Master Ling bowed deeply, almost precipitously. “In Xia, Ling Mo. I heard of Young Master Li’s exceptional kindness towards my Young Mistress, and I have come specifically to express our clan’s profound gratitude. I sincerely hope I have not intruded upon your peace.” Li Xuan blinked. *Exceptional kindness?* He internally scoffed. All he’d done was invite her in from the rain when she looked utterly bewildered, and later offered a bowl of a rather basic decoction suitable only for common mortal ailments. Moreover, this had all transpired yesterday. Listening to Ling Mo refer to Lin Fei as ‘Young Mistress,’ Li Xuan surmised that this fellow was likely a loyal, if somewhat overzealous, servant of the Lin clan. He appeared to be a mortal as well, yet Lin Fei, despite her obvious spiritual prowess, seemed to treat him with respect. Li Xuan, ever one to find the mundane explanation, speculated that even amongst cultivators, mortals weren’t always treated as ‘ants.’ Perhaps Ling Mo had watched Lin Fei grow from childhood, fostering a natural affection, and Lin Fei, in turn, reciprocated. A simple, understandable human bond. Since they were both, presumably, mortals operating under such a sincere misunderstanding, and one generally didn’t strike a smiling face, Li Xuan could only offer a polite, if somewhat bewildered, smile. “It was merely a small gesture, hardly worth mentioning. Miss Lin is no ordinary person; I believe anyone else in my position would have offered the same courtesy.” These words, spoken with such casual sincerity, resonated deeply with Master Ling. “This senior’s cultivation of spirit is truly unparalleled,” he thought, a wave of profound emotion washing over him. “In a world rife with arrogant contempt, he retains such a pure, unblemished mortal heart…” He felt a flush of shame. For Lin Fei, Li Xuan’s actions had been tantamount to the grace of renewed life, a spiritual rebirth. Yet, Li Xuan spoke of it as if it were a trivial matter, a common courtesy. Master Ling had originally prepared a flowery pronouncement: “This kindness is as weighty as the sacred mountains, and should you ever require aid, my Lin clan is bound by duty.” But now, such a declaration felt utterly inappropriate, a crass demand for acknowledgement that would surely displease this hidden master who held all such grandiosity in gentle disdain. “Oh, my apologies, look at me, forgetting all sense of decorum!” Li Xuan suddenly clapped a hand to his forehead, offering an apologetic smile. “To speak standing in the main hall… please, come to the back room. We can enjoy some tea.” He then gently placed Miao onto a nearby display table, murmuring softly, “Stay well, little one.” Miao, in response, meticulously licked a paw, then settled into a perfect, quiet loaf, a picture of placid contentment. “This… thank you, Senior,” Master Ling managed, his voice thick with a renewed sense of gravity. He understood this was an invitation of great honor, a senior extending face to his juniors, and he would never dare refuse. With Lin Fei, he respectfully followed Li Xuan towards the back of the apothecary. The back hall was meticulously clean, leading to a small courtyard that, to Li Xuan’s eyes, was rather messy—a disarray of potted herbs, drying roots, and the occasional misplaced gardening tool. Not exactly the sort of vista one presented to esteemed guests, he thought, lamenting his lack of foresight in tidying up. Master Ling and Lin Fei settled onto cushions around a low tea table. Li Xuan, picking up a clay teapot, explained, “I brewed this earlier this morning.” He then poured a cup for each of them, the steam curling delicately. Master Ling and Lin Fei, maintaining their solemn respect, carefully accepted the teacups. “By the way,” Master Ling began, setting his cup down momentarily, “I find I do not yet know the senior’s esteemed name.” Lin Fei, recalling her initial shock and despair upon meeting Li Xuan, realized she too had never asked. As a junior, she wouldn’t dare speak out of turn. “My surname is Li, given name Xuan. You may call me Li Xuan, or Li Healer, as you prefer,” Li Xuan replied, taking a sip from his own cup and smiling faintly. “Once we’ve met a few times, to continually address me as ‘Senior’ can be rather… disheartening.” He waved a dismissive hand. “There’s nothing ‘bad’ about it. I generally don’t care for being called ‘Senior’ on ordinary days. If you find ‘Li Healer’ too informal, ‘Young Master Li’ would also suffice.” The truth was, he was still quite young, in the prime of his life. This Master Ling looked considerably older than him, and to be constantly addressed as ‘Senior’ made Li Xuan feel as though he’d mysteriously aged several centuries overnight, his hair suddenly sprouting wisps of silver. “This…” Master Ling hesitated, glancing uncertainly at Lin Fei. Lin Fei, ever quick-witted, offered a soft smile. “Young Master Li is quite right. A chance meeting is also a form of destiny, yet ‘Senior’ does feel rather… unfamiliar for acquaintances.” Since Li Xuan clearly disliked the formal title, ‘Young Master’ was perfectly acceptable. Why overthink it? “That… very well, Young Master Li,” Master Ling conceded after a brief pause, finding it difficult to refuse further. Still, his heart pounded with a nervous reverence. To steady himself, he picked up his teacup and took a deliberate sip, hoping the warmth would calm the turbulent waves of his internal agitation. The moment the tea touched his tongue, Master Ling’s pupils dilated violently. An explosion of vibrant *qi* and rich, life-affirming essence of blood immediately flooded his limbs, rushing through his meridians with an unparalleled vigor. It was a sensation far surpassing even the purest spiritual spring water, an oceanic wave of comfort and rejuvenation that left him gasping for breath, utterly overwhelmed. Master Ling nearly dropped the exquisite porcelain cup, his composure threatening to shatter. “What’s wrong?” Li Xuan asked, observing his guest’s peculiar, almost apoplectic reaction. “Is the tea not to your taste?” This particular blend, he mused internally, was something he'd ‘cultivated’ himself from some rather unusual seeds he’d found. He hadn’t used it to entertain before, mostly because he suspected his homemade concoctions, while 'decent' by his own humble standards, wouldn’t measure up to the refined palates of individuals from prominent clans like the Lin family, who were undoubtedly accustomed to mountain delicacies and rare imperial brews. “Oh, no, no, not at all!” Master Ling stammered, hurriedly setting down the cup to conceal his violently trembling hand and wildly thrumming heart. “This tea… it moistens the throat, soothes the spleen, truly… truly superb!” He had no idea what kind of leaves Li Xuan had used, but it was unmistakably a treasure, an herb of unimaginable quality, brimming with potent medicinal and spiritual power! “Is that so?” Li Xuan tilted his head, a small smile playing on his lips. Master Ling certainly seemed to genuinely enjoy it, judging by his slightly flushed face and the way his eyes darted about with an almost frantic energy. Perhaps, Li Xuan thought, he was just a simple man with a hearty appreciation for common things, unlike the more discerning palates of high society. If that were the case, he might as well offer him some to take home. With that thought, Li Xuan rose and walked to a nearby wooden cabinet. He pulled out a random wooden box, not bothering to inspect its contents, and returned to hand it to Master Ling. “This… Young Master Li is far too generous,” Master Ling murmured, taking the box with trembling hands. His fingers fumbled with the clasp, and as the lid clicked open, a collective gasp escaped both his and Lin Fei’s lips. Inside, the tea leaves were a wondrous sight: each a perfect jade hue, smooth and crystalline to the eye, exuding an incredibly rich, sweet fragrance that permeated the air. But what truly captivated them was the faint, shimmering layer of golden light that surrounded each leaf, a clear, unmistakable sign of powerful, condensed spiritual and medicinal efficacy. Master Ling instantly recognized them. “These… these are *Celestial Verdant Leaves*!” he whispered, his voice barely audible, laced with reverence and disbelief. These were not merely rare; they were a legendary spiritual plant, a top-tier treasure used in ancient medicine and alchemy. A single leaf could replenish depleted *qi* and blood, alleviate even the most severe spiritual illness, and, most miraculously, precipitate *qi* into the *dantian*, solidifying one’s Dao root. They were, in essence, the very essence of heaven and earth made manifest, a profound catalyst for cultivation, a miracle for any who consumed them. To treat them as common tea… it was an act of casual disregard for immense wealth that could only belong to someone who either possessed an unfathomable understanding of the Dao, or was blissfully, ignorantly, ordinary. Li Xuan, of course, was the latter. Master Ling, however, could only conclude the former.

An Ordinary Brew, a Rather Potent Misunderstanding