Bai Ye led me through a maze of meandering paths in the garden until we came to a small stone door hidden behind a thicket of jasmine bushes. I never knew such a place existed in the same garden that I had visited every day for the past five years.

He beckoned me forward, “Only my spiritual power can open this door. Give it a try.”

I took a deep breath, brushing aside the intimate thought of how that power came into my body, and laid my hand on the stone’s surface. A pale white light danced beneath my palm when I called his spiritual power forward—pure and strong, without the slight tint of the telltale purple color from impurities—and the stone glowed as if lit from the inside. With a loud rumble, the door shook and then disappeared.

“It’s a spiritual seal,” Bai Ye explained as I gaped at the open doorway. “There was no physical door or stone in front of you, but unless you can break the spell, you’ll see and feel what the seal shows you.” He stepped inside the dark entrance, and I followed.

The interior was a cave chamber, a little larger than my bedroom, dim and wet. I squinted to adjust my eyes to the lighting. There was no furniture, and the walls were bare except for deep etchings all over.

“These are instructions for an ancient technique,” Bai Ye said. The echoes of his voice seemed endless in the small space. “I think it will suit you best for the next stage of your training, but I need to watch you follow through once and make sure that it fares well on your body.”

I looked up at the etchings, mystified. Such caution wasn’t Bai Ye’s usual style, and the seclusiveness of this place made me wonder if this was a forbidden technique. If he didn’t see fit to tell me more about it though, I didn’t want to push for an explanation.

“Yes, Master.” I sat down in a meditating position and started. The etchings were a series of drawings illustrating how to guide spiritual power through one’s meridians, similar to the common ancient ways of recording swordsmanship moves and Qi cultivations. I carefully called my power forward, moving it slowly but firmly according to the first illustration.

The feeling was unlike any other technique I had learned so far. Instead of a warm, lively power pulsing from within, I felt a sense of chill as I pushed my power through. The sensation grew stronger as I proceeded to the next illustration, and the next. When I reached the final step, the chill had built up into an almost dreadful, freezing cold, and I shivered.

Bai Ye kneeled behind me immediately and pressed his palm to my back, transferring his spiritual power to me. The warmth fought off the chill quickly. “It might take a few tries to get used to it,” he said. “How do you feel?”

“Much better now,” I replied. “Should I try again?”

“If you think you can manage. And with one modification this time—” he pointed at one of the drawings, “—when guiding your inflowing energy in this step, focus on my spiritual power; and for outflowing, use yours.”

It took me a moment to grasp the implications. “This is … a dual cultivation technique?”

A tinge of disappointment rose in me. After everything last night and what he told me in the morning, I had hoped that what we shared was more than this. Reality was too quick at disillusioning.

But Bai Ye shook his head. “Dual cultivation techniques require both people controlling their power flow simultaneously. This is only for you.”

I lowered my head, ashamed of my earlier thought. I didn’t realize until now that deep down inside, I still doubted him.

He only tousled my hair. “Don’t overthink it. Now try again.”

I obeyed, starting back at the first step. I wasn’t sure if it was my body adapting to it or the source of the power making a difference, but the chill was much more bearable this time around, and when I followed through the complete set of drawings, I only felt cool and refreshed.

Bai Ye nodded at my progress. “From now on, I want you to come here every week and practice for at least an hour. With the modification, remember. Once you are familiar enough with the instructions and can follow through without them, you can practice anywhere you wish, but be sure not to mention or show this technique to anyone else.”

I looked at him in surprise.

Every master at Mount Hua had their own branch of inherited arts, and it wasn’t unusual that some of their techniques weren’t well known to the others. But in the end, everything was derived from the canons, and the differences between various branches were usually slight and inconsequential. Techniques that were purposefully kept as secrets were rare, to say the least, and most definitely glared upon.

The hidden location of this chamber, the sealed door, the strange chill, and his unusual caution … What was this technique?

Bai Ye read the unspoken questions in my eyes. He gazed up at the etchings, turning his back to me. For a moment, his figure looked lonely again, like it did when he waited for me last night at my doorstep. “I promise, Qing-er,” he said softly, “that one day I will explain all of this to you. But now is not time yet, and I can only ask that you trust me … and believe me when I say I’ll never do anything to hurt you.”

I felt a lump in my throat. For the sudden sorrow in his voice, and for my earlier doubt in him that he must’ve noticed. “Yes, Master,” I replied.. “I trust you with my life.”