The Heavenly Miss Xiulan (Who Is Most Definitely Not a Boy)

If one were to describe Uncle Hei in a single word, it would be: grumpy. But if one were allowed a second, more accurate word, it would be: calculative.

And today, he was both—grumpy and calculative—because he had to wear human robes.

"Disgusting," he muttered, adjusting the stiff collar for the third time. "This was tailored for someone without fur. Or sense."

"Brother Hei," Young Master Jin called sweetly, his tone warm like steamed honey buns but his eyes already calculating profit margins. "You are ruining the aesthetic. You are a co-founder now. You must look wealthy."

Uncle Hei rolled his eyes but complied, albeit while growling under his breath about capitalists and tail-constraining belts.

They stood before the newly painted sign of their venture:

Tea of Heaven's Whimsy — Cultivation Starts with a Sip.

The name, of course, had been Xiulan's idea. When consulted, the child had looked up from carving runes into a daikon and said, "People like whimsy. Also, Heaven seems easily amused."

The tea house sat on the edge of the human town bordering the forest. Just close enough that their beast kin could visit with minimal panic, and just far enough that no common cultivator would dare complain about the faint smell of fur, mint, and... lightning.

Today marked the soft opening.

Tea leaves cultivated from Xiulan's new little garden—planted after much study on Uncle Hei's dream of becoming a refined gentleman—were brewing on intricately carved trays. The tea had faint spiritual energy, tingling like morning mist, and sometimes made one's ears twitch when sipped too fast. It was oddly... invigorating.

Young Master Jin stood before a group of curious cultivators, hair elegantly swept, smile dangerous yet charming.

"We present not just tea, but a taste of spiritual clarity, bottled elegance, and legacy brewed in golden kettles." He held up a delicate teacup as if he were unveiling treasure. "Each leaf is touched by the forest's divine energy—handpicked by our very own Heavenly Maiden."

Several cultivators leaned forward, reverent, and gullible.

In the corner, Uncle Hei whispered to a squirrel, "I picked them. With gloves."

The squirrel whispered back, "Heavenly Maiden sounds better than Grumpy Uncle."

Uncle Hei glared. "You're not getting a discount."

Back in the sect, Xiulan was experiencing his own test of survival.

He had been enrolled in what the disciples called "The Meditation Chamber of Heavenly Etiquette." Which, in his words, sounded like a cage made of boredom.

Xiulan was dressed in robes of flowing white with green linings—chosen specifically to keep his forest heart calm. His long hair had been combed into silky waves, a small vine gently holding it back. He looked... divine.

At least, that is what the others kept whispering. One female disciple dropped her scroll just watching him sip tea without slurping.

Xiulan did not understand why sipping was such a big deal. "Back home, Duoduo screams whenever someone drinks slower than a frog in rain," he had muttered.

"Silence," said the etiquette master. "Posture! Grace! You are a maiden of sacred repute!"

Thunder rolled faintly outside.

The master turned pale.

Xiulan sighed.

Even now, at eight years old, he had learned that sighing softly after being praised as a girl helped prevent immediate divine smiting of others. He did not get it, but at least it stopped the yelps.

Still, he found the sitting oddly difficult. No dancing mushrooms. No squeaky squirrels. No nose-tickling leaves. Just... stillness.

He missed Uncle Hei's grunts and Jin-ge's loud declarations of profit.

Even the whispering tree felt far away today.

Meanwhile, back at the tea house, business was booming.

"Do you think it's ethical to sell tea that helps cultivators clear their mind but also makes them think of old crushes?" Uncle Hei asked.

"Depends," said Jin-ge, sipping gracefully. "Do you think it's ethical to put your dreams in a cup and charge two gold taels for it?"

Uncle Hei considered this. "Only if they cry after drinking."

"Then it's art," Young Master Jin concluded.

Suddenly, a large cultivator who had ordered the Spirit Dew Jasmine blend stood up and declared, "I shall break through tonight! I saw my grandma in the leaves!"

A round of cheers followed. And with that, their tea became a trend.

Xiulan's tea garden, originally planted for fun and fur aesthetics, now held spiritual value, market potential, and suspicious amounts of demand from sect elders hoping for "vision tea."

Uncle Hei returned to the forest that evening with two pouches of coin and a rare golden tea tray.

"Success?" Xiulan asked, eyes bright.

Uncle Hei tossed the tray to the side like a broken radish. "We've started something."

"I want to make tea with leaves that hum when you lie," Xiulan said with a determined nod.

Uncle Hei blinked. Then smirked. "Now that's innovation."

Young Master Jin, walking in with his usual charismatic gait, added, "Let us price it at ten gold taels. And call it Truth Drizzle."

Xiulan clapped. "Or Honest Throat Tea! It makes your lies choke you!"

Duoduo screamed from above, "Slogan! Slogan! Drink me if you dare!"

And so, the empire grew. One leaf at a time.

At the teahouse,

The room was warm with a lingering scent of honeyed jasmine and roasted spirit rice. Cultivators of all ranks crowded into the low-ceilinged, gold-rimmed chamber, some whispering reverently, others openly weeping over their cups.

At one corner table, a senior disciple wiped his eyes dramatically. "I only took one sip of the First Love Osmanthus Brew, and I remembered the boy who gave me his last peach bun during outer sect trials. I—" He sobbed. "I never said thank you!"

A younger cultivator across from him patted his back and sniffled. "I saw my dad in the foam of the Ancestor Pu'er. He was holding a chicken and telling me not to be stupid."

Two tables over, a burly inner sect elder slammed his cup down with reverent force.

"This is enlightenment in a leaf! I drank the Clear Mind Chrysanthemum and solved three bottlenecks. And then I cried because I miss my donkey from mortal life."

One of the tea waiters — a squirrel beast in human illusion form hired by Fox Jin for "aesthetic reasons" — nodded politely. "The donkey sees you too, Honored Guest."

The elder wept harder. "Thank you, Little Leaf Spirit!"

Leaf Diary Entry

Today I sat still and did not die. But I missed the smell of moss and mushrooms.

They said I looked like a proper maiden. I said I was a radish.

Uncle Hei said we sold 40 cups of tea.

I want to grow tea leaves that can dance when happy.

I also want to ask if being a "gentleman" means you must wear itchy clothes.

I think I will invent forest fashion next.

— Xiulan