Harvesting the Moon

After everyone had finished dinner, Zhao Fengnian put the bowls and chopsticks away in the kitchen, and Mingxin wiped the stone table in the courtyard. The six disciples each carried their prayer cushions to the courtyard and sat down again in the positions they had used for meditation that morning.

Three children sat in the front row, Old Chen half a step behind them, a deer lay at Old Chen's feet, and a crow perched on the edge of the well. Unlike the excitement of the morning, everyone's face now carried a quiet anticipation; they knew what was to come.

As the setting sun sank behind the pine forest, the last rays of golden light slowly faded from the courtyard wall. Darkness fell faster than usual, for the moon had long since hung high in the sky, its brilliance merely obscured by the sunlight.

After the sun had completely set, the moonlight poured down without any obstruction, as bright as a pool of molten silver slowly pouring down from the sky. The starlight appeared dim under such bright moonlight, with a few sparse stars timidly hiding at the edge of the sky, not daring to compete with the moon's brilliance.

Liu Jin stood up from the stone steps. His moon-like gauze robe unfurled automatically in the moonlight, its silvery-white light echoing the moon's radiance. He raised his hand, fingers pointing upwards, and gently beckoned.

The bright moonlight in the sky suddenly flickered. It wasn't the wind, nor the clouds, but rather the entire moonlight seemed to be gently moved by an invisible hand, changing the direction of its cascade.

The moonlight, which had been evenly scattered across the mountains, forests, rooftops, and fields, stopped above the Sanyi Temple. The moonlight, like silvery water, slowly converged from all directions, forming a huge vortex of moonlight directly above the temple.

At the center of the vortex was a bright, almost blinding, silvery-white spot of light. Countless fine silver threads extended from the edge of the spot, each a beam of gathered moonlight falling from the sky, winding around the branches of pine and cypress trees, and around the eaves of the courtyard wall, like a waterfall cascading down, like a silver river pouring down, silently pouring into the courtyard.

The entire Sanyi Temple seemed to be bathed in a pool of flowing moonlight. The bluestone slabs in the courtyard were reflected by the moonlight like a mirror, and the teacups on the stone table rippled with silver light. Pine needles that fell into the moonlight no longer drifted down, but were lifted by the light and suspended in mid-air, slowly rotating.

The plaque above the main hall, which Zhao Fengnian had repainted, bearing the inscription "Sanyi Temple," was bathed in moonlight, and the characters, made of cinnabar mixed with gold powder, shimmered with a soft golden and silvery glow.

The disciples had already entered a meditative state. Old Chen's breathing was the first to synchronize with the moonlight; his basic breathing techniques, practiced day after day for decades, finally found their perfect rhythm at this moment. The moonlight flowed into his meridians along with his breath, gathering the scattered, faint energy within his body into his dantian.

A faint warmth began to gather in my dantian. It wasn't hot or cold, but lukewarm, like holding a freshly brewed cup of hot tea on a winter's day, the warmth of the cup slowly seeping into my blood through my palm.

For the first time since he began cultivating, he was able to see his own dantian. He saw that tiny spark, bathed in moonlight, grow from the size of a needle tip to the size of a grain of rice, and from dark red to pale gold, burning quietly.

The crow perched on the edge of the well, its eyes closed, but its posture was completely different from that in the morning. In the morning, it had merely closed its eyes and pretended to sleep, its wings slightly spread, ready to fly away at any moment. Now, its wings were completely drooping, and its tail feathers gently dragged on the stone slab along the edge of the well.

The moonlight seeped into its body through the skin at the base of its feathers, washing away the chaotic spiritual energy it had previously indiscriminately consumed in the mountains and fields. The impurities were washed away by the moonlight, and the essence was gathered in its dantian and condensed into a tiny spark.

It was a demon that had already gained human speech, with a foundation deeper than the little deer. Now that the spark of its power was beginning to form, it could feel the sandpaper-like hoarseness in its voice gradually fading away after being moistened by the moonlight. It tried silently reciting "Umi" in its heart, and the sound, after swirling in its throat, surprisingly became somewhat clear.

The fawn lay at Old Chen's feet, its head resting on its front hooves, its ears twitching back and forth. It was the only disciple who didn't close its eyes the entire time; not because it wasn't serious, but because it didn't know how to close its eyes. But it entered a meditative state in another way.

Its dark eyes reflected the swirling moonlight above its head, and the silvery light slowly rotated deep within its pupils. The moonlight seeped into its body through its eyes, nostrils, ears, and every fine hair on its skin.

As a demon that has gained sentience but has not yet taken human form, it is born with the ability to absorb moonlight. The Fire-Nourishing Scripture transforms this instinct into a more efficient form of cultivation. Moonlight flows into its meridians, condensing into a bright, silvery-white flame in its dantian. The rhythm of the flame's pulse is perfectly synchronized with the rhythm of its heartbeat; with each pulse, its dark eyes shine a little brighter.

It felt something moving deep in its throat. It wasn't pain, it wasn't itching, it was an unprecedented urge, like something that had been held back for a long time finally finding an outlet, but it wasn't fully formed yet. It was almost able to utter that syllable that had been wanting to come out from deep in its throat, but it was just a little short.

The three children each reaped their rewards in different ways.

Li Zhitui felt as if he had a small heater in his dantian, neither too hot nor too cold, but warmly comforting his belly. The warmth slowly spread along his meridians to his limbs and bones, washing away the soreness left from climbing the stone steps during the day.

Li Zhiruo felt as if she were holding a soft ball of light, a light like an invisible cotton ball stuffed deep inside her stomach, something she couldn't hold onto, yet couldn't bear to let go of.

Li Zhiwei was the youngest and hadn't yet learned where the dantian was, but he could feel something beating in his lower abdomen, like a heart but not quite, with a rhythm exactly the same as his own heartbeat. He found it amusing and wanted to reach out and touch it, but Li Zhitui pressed him down.

The moonlight poured in faster and faster, and the three children couldn't hold on any longer and were "full" before waking up from their meditation almost simultaneously. Li Zhiwei opened her mouth to shout, "I feel something jumping in my stomach," but Li Zhitui quickly covered her mouth.

Li Zhitui gestured for him to be quiet, then pointed to Old Chen, who was still meditating beside him. Li Zhiwei blinked and nodded, obediently sitting on the futon and remaining silent. Li Zhiruo sat quietly to the side, lowering her head and touching her dantian, her lips slightly pursed.

As night deepened, the swirling moonlight gradually slowed. Old Chen was the second to open his eyes. A faint golden light flashed in his eyes before disappearing. He looked down at his palms, the hands calloused and cracked from a lifetime of farm work, which seemed warmer than usual in the moonlight. He touched his dantian (lower abdomen), this time not muttering to himself, but simply nodding slightly, his expression more composed than usual.

The crow opened its eyes almost simultaneously. It flew down from the edge of the well and landed on the stone table. It opened its beak to test its throat and let out a cry that was a little softer than usual. Then it shook its wings with satisfaction.