“Let’s get started.”

  Xin was lying on the bed, trying to be comfortable as the boy took measurements of far too many of her sizes. She had “played doctor” in the past, but this was a different type of slightly weird with a different type of man.

  What did make her uncomfortable was what she knew would come next. It was one thing to have someone explore her body, nothing new there, and another to think about her future and share it. What she would be capable of, the relationship she’d shape with the world, the element that she’d live by for a long, long time, her interpretation of it, how her looks would change…

  It was so much, and so worrying, but she let her mind slip away from all those thoughts as the boy began his craft.

  Heng calmly worked the measuring tape: His soft hands barely grazed her skin, feeling almost cold in the warming air of May, giving her goosebumps. She could feel the thumb drag as he unrolled the tape over the length of her arm. He had gently grabbed her wrist, extending it, and moved down from there, putting the lightest pressure on her slender form, until he reached her armpit.

  He moved away and scribbled the numbers down.

  He came back, standing above her.

  He took her palm in his; this time, he went from the wrist to her fingertips, his digits taking in the shape of each of them. He was meticulous, feeling the way each joint moved, then doing the same for her wrist, digging in the soft base of her thumb to push it further back. His own slid down her forearm, again, moving away her sleeve, and stopped only in the middle of her bicep; the other went to her shoulder, pinning it, her, down, so close to the untouchable. Once again, she moved as he wished.

  When they first met, he was shy, clumsy, trying to look more confident than he was; in their fight, he was desperate, aggressive, but ultimately incompetent; as he spoke of his passion, he was energetic, childishly happy to share; now he was… in control.

  His every move was sure. Steady.

  As he took her ankle and used it to move her, he did not think she could rebel. In those eyes, there was no doubt she'd do as instructed.

  He had her show her bare foot. His hands trailed and pressed from the tip, down to the soles, then up her ankle and her calves, pushing and dragging on every muscle; she felt them loosen and soften, almost like a massage. The only difference was that he was not looking to please her, his focused expression betraying his true wants.

  Layer upon layer of her garments was slowly being peeled away, leaving more of her exposed as the minutes blended into each other.

  Many other men had known she'd obey them; that was why they met, and enjoyed themselves in abusing that obedience. She had always wanted to push them away, twist control out of their filthy fingers, bite and hit and slap back.

  But not that time.

  As he guided her, taking and noting down the smallest of details of her body, not once did his hand stray where it shouldn't; not when it raised her shirt, and not when it was held on her chest; not when it reached her inner thighs, and not when it gently pushed them open.

  There was no denying him, and there was no reason to.

  She felt his slow breath on her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

  “Don't squirm.”

  His voice was firm, forcing her body still, the sound echoing somewhere inside of her.

  It was detached, spoken by someone far away from her, just like his eyes: they weren’t truly looking at her body, and ignored the curves that attracted people that no one her age should have; he saw beyond the pointless beauty of her skin, didn’t care for the early bloom of her femininity.

  In them, she was not different from any other project, the blank marble of a sculptor.

  He got to witness, to touch, to perfectly know her form, but his mind was not being swayed.

  With every passing moment, she was being betrayed by the vile warmth that had shaped so much of her life, the one that the customers she was sold to were dominated by. For once, it came off of her, not the young man.

  His tape kept measuring, his ink kept writing, his hands kept overwhelming, but his will was everchanging and evergrowing: it had shaped the Qi in the air into the symbols he had talked so much about, at first, but as he got to know her better, they had started to alter, to shift, to bend and warp into more complex designs that resembled the original ones less and less. It was… obedient.

  Some time earlier, he had had a little trouble making a smiley face for her. Now, in front of her almost naked presence, his full capabilities were being shown.

  As she gripped the sheets, she couldn’t tear her gaze off of them.

  One end of the tape was rested at the centre of her neck, his thumb keeping it immobile on her larynx as he circled the rest of it, the palm waiting on her collarbone. Air came in the tiniest bit harder and much, much warmer. His other hand raised her head when it was supposed to pass under her, and their faces were closer than ever before.

  As their breaths mingled, she knew she was blushing, her eyelids almost closed.

  His movements remained methodical, stoic, until he put her back down on the warm cushion.

  Disappointment and relief washed over her at the same time. Had he made a move, she knew she would have accepted… and she would have hated herself more than him for it.

  All she had been touched by, for as long as she could remember, was lust; she was bitter, angry against the vile souls who had let themselves be corrupted into pigs and behaved even worse.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  The moment her companion had given her was one devoid of that debauchery, but made of purpose and zeal instead. His actions reflected that. And there she was… such a neutral touch wasn’t supposed to give her such feelings. Deep down, she had hoped she could give them to one born of love, one day.

  Was it really enough for her? Had that disgusting world made her so desperate, that her own body would just accept something so… miserable? Crave to keep feeling something that was not even affection?

  It wasn’t about him. He could have been anyone, and it would have been the same. And it wasn’t fair.

  It wasn’t fair at all.

  For that, she shed only one tear.

  Then, as the boy continued his craft, her fists closed. Her eyes opened. Her next breath was deeper, filling her lungs to the brim. The barest tension reappeared in her muscles. They were ready, no, they wanted to act.

  The years had worn her down, and yet, in a matter of days, she had amassed a great following, one big enough to start changing the very culture of the slums of her city; she had beaten down talent after talent, proved how dangerous she could be; she had toyed with the mind of the woman who sought to keep her stagnating, a pretty doll, and drove the hag to give her the very tools to accomplish all that and reshape her life.

  Now, she was being gifted even better ones by someone who, by all accounts, should have hated to even look at her.

  How could she cry at that, when she was succeeding?

  What use did guilt serve for something she had no fault over?

  She knew she would keep hurting for her past, but was it her limit? All that defined her?

  With questions, came answers. The flames warming her body weren’t born of misfortune anymore. As the boy finished his work and stepped away, resolve and ambition became new fuel to keep them alive.

  …

  When he was done, Heng knew all he needed about her current state, enough to predict the future developments of her Cultivation:

  The next stage was called Second Awakening because it was a process of bringing the natural Meridians, the literal and metaphysical energy pathways that ran through the whole person, to life.

  No two people were perfectly the same, and it would affect the efficacy of one’s Cultivation the more they diverged from those the Technique was designed for. Knowing them now meant avoiding any loss when the time came.

  Even in the short term, knowing the characteristics of her body meant he could make for a better flow of Qi, personalise the way the process would change her with far more precision.

  “Have you thought about my questions?” He asked her.

  “Not in detail, but I have some ideas.”

  “Good, then let’s start. First off, what would you like to specialise in, physically? Think of your favourite fighting style, or what you enjoy doing, or what you feel lacking…”

  “I want… I want to be strong. I want to feel like my body is mine, and mine alone, fully under my control. I wish to be able to escape any restraint, binding, with ease” His mind began conjuring runes, sigils, patterns and shapes fitting to her desires, in conjunction with what he knew.

  An increased strength was obvious, but what she was speaking about was on the lines of precision, flexibility, coordination… some aspects of those aligned to concepts he already knew, like speed or agility, but he’d have to fill in the missing parts.

  Exciting.

  “Do you have a favourite element? One you feel aligned to? Or even more than one, as long as you think it’s right for you.”

  “No, not really. Sorry.”

  “It’s fine. Your requests align mostly with Fire and Wind, if we follow the four-element schools; Water and Fire, with the five-element ones. Or we can get more specific if we abandon them: physical prowess aligns with many, so your other ideas will make the cut. Stuff like Purity, an art, even Freedom or Light could work. You’ll have some time to think it over as we keep it up. Have you picked up a fighting style already, or do you plan to? This is for adjusting the Qi flows to better work with it.”

  “I don’t have one yet, but…” She hesitated for a second, almost embarrassed. “I’d like to make my own, one day. I had a moment of inspiration during the final match, and ballet moves came back to me naturally. In fact, leg and core strength would need to be valued a bit more, now that I think about it.”

  He cancelled some of the notes he had written down and added new ones.

  “Your looks, do you have any preference for how they change? Is there anything you particularly like, or dislike?”

  “How… how does that work?” She said, hugging herself by instinct. “I’m not sure I like the idea of toying with my body, like I was some sort of… customised tool.”

  “Usually, the change would be a natural result of the ideas, the Dao behind your Cultivation Technique.” He began, putting the paper down. The boy didn’t need to look in the mirror to notice the smile that had blossomed on his face, as he got the chance to once again share his passion with someone. That Xin was more worried than curious was secondary.

  “If we compare Fire Cultivators and Earth Cultivators, it’s easy to spot how different they tend to be: the former are often lean, their muscles well defined but not huge, the latter err more on the bulky side, their weight above average. Why is that? Because the Qi they cultivate with is tainted, we could say, by the nature of the respective Dao, and their body is naturally drawn to match it.

  But that’s not all. Even with the same element, the result can be different: if one sees the beauty in the flames, they could end up with a gorgeous face; connecting to the more destructive properties, one may possess muscles with even greater power, but have them burn- no pun intended- much more Stamina in the process. I even heard of a Technique inspired by wildfires, and their consuming nature, the owner ended up getting fat, unlike all others of the same element.

  With my way of making them, this is avoided only partially: the centrepiece of the Technique, what we named “Call”, is still based on the traditional method, so over time it will alter you anyway. I can avoid the randomness by designing a portion with your liking in mind.”

  I spoke too much, didn’t I? I sound like I never left my room, curse the Hells!

  Whatever! Whatever! I should just focus on her now…

  Luckily, she was taking her time, giving him enough to un-blush his cheeks.

  She was looking down, staring at the notes he had taken during their session. The sun lowered just enough for the light coming in from the window to reach her eyes, making her squint as she adjusted her position.

  That was so hellishly cute.

  Even cuter was her fixing her pink hair and licking her lips, deep in thought. It easily made him blush a second time.

  And yet, despite his apparent distraction, he never stopped conceiving new patterns, never-thought interactions, modify pre-existing methods to fit what he had discovered about her. He was making a completely new Cultivation Technique for the second time in his life, after creating the base for his own in his solitary years; the raw amount of knowledge he had accumulated, the discoveries that putting it to practice generated, the experiments he could finally make, his experience… they were completely changing the process, and he couldn’t help but viciously smile.

  The way this different kind of thinking also gave him ideas on his own was just a bonus.

  “I… I don’t want to say it out loud. Give me something to write on.”

  “Oh, sure.”

  He absentmindedly gave her a page to write on, his shift in approach forcing his head to abandon reality in favour of the topics he most loved, his heart joyfully speeding up as he took control of the Qi in his Dantian to experiment some more, even as they talked.