Fang Yuan stood in his chamber, robes half-unfastened, steamy water already filling the copper tub in the corner.
Just as he dipped a finger to test the temperature, a frantic hamring rattled his door.
Thud Thud Thud Thud!
His first, weary thought flew to Lin Zhaoyue. That woman... what does she want now?
But then a desperate, cracking cry sliced through the wood:
"Brother Fang! Brother Fang! Help , please! I need help!"
Fang Yuan clicked his tongue against his teeth, the sound sharp and irritated.
"Don’t tell she’s learned how to mimic voices now... Is she baiting ?" he muttered, a low growl lacing the words.
His gaze narrowed on the empty air ahead, as if willing it to give him a different answer.
’Please... don’t let it be her.’
A faint, desperate humor crept into his voice, almost a prayer.
’Let it be Xiao Pei... just Da Pang with so problem I can fix.’
Cautiously, he cracked the heavy door open, just wide enough to peer out.
Whoosh!
A figure blurred past him with impossible speed, a warm draft ruffling his hair.
Fang Yuan recoiled, genuinely startled for a split second, his hand instinctively flexing towards a defensive stance.
Then his eyes snapped into focus, tracking the intruder who now stood panting in the center of his room.
Broad shoulders strained against the fabric of a simple robe.
Muscles, hard and defined as river-smoothed stone, shifted visibly beneath the damp, clinging cloth.
Skin glistened with a sheen of exertion or perhaps residual cultivation heat... and the robe itself...
Recognition slamd into Fang Yuan like a physical blow.
That robe... It was undeniably Xiao Pei’s.
The familiar, slightly-too-short hem, the worn stitching near the shoulder.
Instinct took over.
A wave of potent qi erupted from Fang Yuan, invisible but crushing, pinning the intruder flat against the polished floorboards with a heavy thump.
"Urk!" ca a strangled gasp.
Fang Yuan stepped closer, eyes narrowed to slits, radiating an aura of cold authority.
He leaned down, scrutinizing the face pressed against the wood.
Sharp jawline? Defined cheekbones? This... this wasn’t right.
Silence stretched, thick and heavy, broken only by the muffled gasps of the pinned man and the distant slosh of bathwater.
"Brother Fang..." the man managed to wheeze out, voice strained but painfully familiar beneath the panic, "...it hurts..."
Fang Yuan flinched, the oppressive qi vanishing instantly as if snuffed out.
The man on the floor sucked in a ragged breath, pushing himself up onto trembling arms.
Fang Yuan just stared.
His gaze traveled slowly, incredulously, from the sweat-dampened hair plastered to a sculpted forehead, down the corded neck, across the impossibly broad and now lean shoulders, to the tapered waist where the simple robe hung loosely.
Disbelief warred with dawning, utterly absurd comprehension on his face.
"You?" Fang Yuan finally breathed, the word barely more than an exhale.
His eyes swept the man from head to toe, as if trying to reconcile two impossible images.
"You’re Xiao Pei? The Da Pang I know?"
His voice rose, sharp with disbelief. "Did you... did you shed your skin or sothing?"
Fang Yuan studied his sworn brother’s startled expression for a long beat, then straightened, face utterly deadpan.
"Brother Da Pang," he said gravely, "you can be honest with . Are you... a snake?"
The ntal image was jarring, impossible.
Barely a week ago, his sworn brother had been a mountain of cheerful flesh, a man whose very presence required wider doorways.
Not a week had passed since Fang Yuan had last seen his good brother.. who, no offense, had been built more like a prize pig than a cultivator.
Every last ounce of that bulk... gone. Overnight.
And now, here he stood: a tall, broad-shouldered, downright handso man. Who wouldn’t be shocked?
It was like this.. imagine you had an eight-hundred-kilo friend.
One weekend, you et up to play so gas or catch a movie.
You part ways, and, take note, at that very mont, your friend is still built like a walking mountain.
Then Monday rolls around.
You walk into class... and there he is: eighty kilos, he stood at 1.9 tres tall, looking fit as an ox, grinning like it wasn’t sothing to be surprised about.
Could you imagine that?
Of course you couldn’t.... you would have to start by finding a friend first.
The chamber hung thick with stunned silence.
A full minute crawled by, broken only by the frantic drip drip of condensation falling from the copper tub’s rim into the steaming water.
Fang Yuan’s gaze, sharp as honed steel, never left Xiao Pei’s transford figure.
Finally, the single, bewildered word clawed its way out of his throat, low and rough:
"How?"
Xiao Pei shuffled his massive, unfamiliar feet, the simple robe suddenly feeling like a stranger’s skin.
He ran a hand, a lean, muscular hand, through damp hair, a gesture utterly alien on this new body. "I... I don’t know," he stamred, genuine confusion widening his eyes.
Fang Yuan stared, the gears of his mind grinding against the impossible.
Then, he snapped back into place. "Alright," he declared, his voice regaining its usual command. "Speculation is useless. We’ll have Doctor Mu examine you thoroughly."
Relief washed over Xiao Pei’s newly defined features. "Yes! Yes, let’s do that! Imdiately!"
He took an eager step forward, the movent surprisingly fluid for soone who once moved like a landslide.
Fang Yuan tilted his head, a flicker of curiosity cutting through his shock.
"Brother Da Pang," he asked slowly, "you... don’t want to be like this?" He gestured vaguely at Xiao Pei’s imposing, heroic physique.
Xiao Pei paused. He looked down at his hands, turning them over as if seeing them for the first ti.
He patted his flat, hard stomach, then ran palms over the broad planes of his chest beneath the robe.
A thoughtful frown creased his brow. He looked back at Fang Yuan, his expression earnest, almost sheepish.
"I suppose... it’s not so bad... objectively. But..." He trailed off, searching for the right words.
"But?" Fang Yuan prompted, genuinely perplexed.
Xiao Pei t his gaze squarely, a flicker of the old, familiar warmth in his eyes despite the unfamiliar vessel.
"But... it doesn’t feel like , Brother Fang. I miss the solid ground. I miss... well, . I still prefer the real ."
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