The cave behind the waterfall is, in my professional opinion, one of the finest discoveries I have ever made.
It is not large , just deep enough that the back wall sits in cool shadow while the entrance glows with the afternoon light filtered through the falling water, breaking it into shifting, silver-edged pieces that scatter across the stone floor. The waterfall itself acts as a curtain between this small world and the rest of the sacred grounds, blurring the shapes of the silver-leafed trees beyond into something soft and impressionistic. The air inside is cooler than outside by several degrees, kept that way by the constant mist and the natural ventilation from a narrow fissure in the upper rock. The sound is the best part, the waterfall fills the cave with a constant, layered rush that absorbs everything else, sealing the outside world away as effectively as any door.
I give it a ten out of ten as a napping spot. I have given it a ten out of ten every time I have come here. My assessment has not wavered.
I settle myself against the back wall, finding the particular smooth hollow in the stone that I have long since identified as the optimal resting position, close my eyes, and let my shoulders drop, enjoying the cool surface.
Behind me I can hear Xiao turning in slow circles, looking at every surface with the concentrated attention of someone hoping to find a century-old inscription hidden in the rock.
"Wow, Ye Fen — I never knew there was a place like this in the sacred grounds! How did you discover it?"
"It's not that hard to find," I say, "if you listen closely."
A pause.
"Listen to what?"
I smile faintly. Three mortal years between us is not so wide a gap. But Xiao moves through the world like he is perpetually running slightly late for something, always rushing forward, always scanning ahead. I cannot help it. Something about that restlessness makes me want to slow him down.
Maybe because his nervous energy is bothering my own sleep.
"Stop chirping like a headless chicken," I say, "and sit still for a moment. Then you'll hear it."
His grumbling is immediate. He doesn't like being handled like a child. I understand why — he has been here longer than me, has been working at his cultivation quietly and persistently, and the academy's instructors certainly do not treat him with any particular gentleness. Still. I don't know why do I have this urge to protect him.
He reminds me of that kid–
'Ye ye! Stop lazing around, the elders will scold you again—'
The voice surfaces from somewhere underneath my thoughts, far buried beneath my memories. It feels familiar.
'Stop worrying. If they scold me, they scold me — no point worrying about the future. Sit down and enjoy the sound of the river. Come—'
I open my eyes.
The cave reassembles itself around me; mist, cool stone, the silver light through the waterfall. Ugh. My head aches again. I cannot tell whether it is a memory or a hallucination.
Probably nothing. I probably dozed for a moment.
"Ye Fen? Listen to what?" Xiao repeats, tilting his head, his eyes wide and bright and waiting.
I click my tongue softly. "The water. What else."
"The water?"
"Close your eyes." I nod toward the cave entrance. "And focus on the sound of the waterfall — specifically how it echoes off the walls in here."
For once, he listens. His fidgeting settles. His eyes close.
"The echo...?"
"Exactly." I keep my voice even. "Every sound has to interact with whatever physical surfaces are nearby before it reaches your ears. Depending on what it hits — the size of the opening, the density of the rock, the distance from the surface — the sound bounces back differently. A waterfall in front of a wide open cave will echo differently than one backed by solid rock. The difference is subtle." I reach over and flick his ear lightly. "But when you close your eyes and give your full attention to only one sense, subtle becomes easier to catch."
"H-hey!" He swats in my direction.
I cannot help the small laugh. "Well?"
His expression shifts brighter.
"I think I can hear it!"
"Well done." I pat his head and push myself upright. The bread buns are not going to build their own oven.
The cave floor holds a good selection of stones. Various sizes, some rounded by old water erosion, some rougher and more angular. I start moving among them, testing weight and surface, tapping each one with two fingers the way a cook tests the heat of a pan.
"But Ye Fen — how did you learn to do that? The sound bouncing thing?"
I press my palm to a broad, flat stone. Good density. Holds heat well if I work it right. I turn it over.
"Ye Feeeenn. You're spacing out again."
"Ah — sorry." I set the stone aside and crouch to examine another. "I learned it from bats."
A silence.
"...Bats?"
"Bats are effectively blind, and most species are nocturnal on top of it — fruit bats especially, since they're out foraging at night when the fruit is cooler and the competition from birds is down." I test another stone, reject it — too porous, won't hold even heat. "They navigate by emitting high-pitched calls and interpreting the echoes that bounce back from objects around them. The time it takes for the echo to return, and the direction it comes from, tells them the size and location of whatever is in their path. Closing your eyes when you practice works on the same principle — you remove one sense to sharpen the others." I pause. "I used to follow fruit bats at night to find the good nectar fruits when I would get snackish before sleep. Even just the memory of the taste—" I sigh. "Extraordinary. Genuinely extraordinary." I am already drooling at the memory. ı may not remember everything from my mortal life, but the taste of sweet sweet fruit will never leave my tongue.
Xiao makes a sound of profound exasperation. "You are completely obsessed with either sleeping or eating. Truly all that wisdom is wasted on you."
"Yup." I say it without shame.
I locate a second good stone — wide, with a naturally flat face — and straighten up, calculating. If I select five or six pieces of suitable size, I can use a low-level application of earth cultivation to fuse and shape them. Not sculpting, exactly. More like persuading the mineral content to recognize its neighbors and hold. The fundamental principle of earth-based cultivation is not force but alignment, encouraging like materials to move toward each other the way they were originally inclined to before erosion separated them. Even I know the basic knowledge that each element has their own way of handling, and earth…well it is known to be stubborn. You can not really force it.
And like each living being elements also carry their own unique energy. So you can speak to them per se… Just in a different way. It is far easier to let the rocks work for you than waste all that energy to force them together. First, it requires too much effort and level of spiritual energy I do not particularly have. Second, I am too lazy for it.
Lucky for me certain minerals tend to like each other more than others.
"Now stop standing there," I say, moving toward the corner where two promising stones are leaning against each other. "Help me collect the larger pieces and smooth them out with earth cultivation. We have an oven to build."