Time continued to move in a non-linear rhythm—or perhaps it didn't move at all, only Li Yuan's awareness moved deeper, diving into layer after layer of the understanding he had just touched.
真水 (Zhēn Shuǐ)—True Water—had changed the Core of Awareness. The resonance of the three phases breathing together had spread throughout the entire Zhenjing. But Li Yuan felt that this was not the end of the transformation.
It was the beginning.
He stood—in a spiritual sense, as there was no physical standing in the Zhenjing—and began to walk from the center toward the Space of Water Understanding.
The transition was familiar. The landscape changed from the pure abstraction of the Core of Awareness to the concrete manifestations of what he understood about water.
Vast oceans. Flowing rivers. Tranquil, mirror-like lakes. Falling rain. Towering walls of ice.
All were still there—the landscape he had cultivated for thousands of years had not disappeared.
But there was something new.
At the center of this space—in a place that was previously just an open ocean—there was now a formation that had not existed before.
Li Yuan approached with slow steps, sensing with full awareness.
This formation was like… a sphere. Or more accurately, like a giant bubble floating above the surface of the ocean. But this bubble was not transparent—it shimmered with moving colors, the same gradations that now existed in the Core of Awareness.
Blue. Crystalline white. Subtle gray. Overlapping, blending, never static.
And from this sphere, Li Yuan felt a resonance that was different from everything else in this space.
The resonance of transformation.
He stepped through the surface of the sphere—there was no resistance, just a seamless transition—and found himself inside.
The interior of this sphere was… a place difficult to describe with words.
It wasn't a space in a geometric sense but a state in a conscious sense.
Here, solid, liquid, and gas were not separated into different zones. They coexisted at every point, in every moment, in proportions that were constantly changing but were always present.
Li Yuan saw—or more accurately, felt with an awareness that transcended sight—the structure of ice crystals forming and melting at the same time. Water that flowed but also had the solidity of ice and the diffusion of steam. Steam that was dispersed but also carried the coherence of water and the structure of ice.
These are not three alternating phases, he mused, feeling this place with his entire spiritual being. These are three phases that exist simultaneously, in a constant state of superposition.
Like… like a chord in music. Not three notes played one by one but three notes played together, creating a harmony that cannot be reduced to its individual components.
He walked deeper into the sphere—though "deeper" was not the right term, because here there was no center or edge, only an ever-expanding depth of consciousness.
And the deeper he went, the clearer he felt the fundamental nature of this place.
Here, change is not a transition, he realized with a clarity that made his entire spiritual existence tremble. Change is the permanent state itself.
Ice does not "become" water. Water does not "become" steam. Instead, all three are simultaneous manifestations of a single essence that is in the process of becoming—a process that never ends, that never reaches an endpoint, because becoming itself is the goal.
This awareness seeped deeper—not as a concept but as a direct experience, a visceral feeling that changed the way he perceived his own existence.
This is a different space from all the other spaces in my Zhenjing, Li Yuan mused. The other spaces of Water Understanding are about understanding water in its specific manifestations. But this space… this space is about understanding transformation itself as a mode of existence.
It needs a name. Not to claim ownership but to mark the discovery.
Li Yuan stood at the center—or what felt like the center—of this sphere, allowing the resonance of transformation to fill his consciousness, allowing the harmony of the three coexisting phases to seep into every aspect of his spiritual being.
And the name emerged—not created but discovered, like finding the perfect word for something that had always existed but had never been spoken.
化室 (Huà Shì), he whispered with a resonance that made the walls of the sphere—if they could be called walls—vibrate with a new frequency.
The Room of Transformation.
A place where becoming is a process, not a destination. A place where change is not an event that happens but a permanent state. A place where the three phases of water do not alternate but breathe together in an eternal harmony.
As the name resonated, the sphere—化室—began to shine with a stronger intensity.
The color gradations became more vivid. Blue, white, gray moved with a faster but also smoother speed, like a dancing aurora that also had grace and purpose.
And Li Yuan felt something profound.
化室 was not just an additional space within the Water Understanding. It was… a new layer. A layer that existed between the Core of Awareness and the concrete manifestations of understanding.
Like a filtering membrane, one that translates, that carries the essence from the roots to the branches but that also transforms it in the process.
Before this, Li Yuan mused, sensing the newly formed structure, the Core of Awareness radiated its resonance directly to all the spaces of Water Understanding. But now, that resonance must pass through 化室 first—and in the process of passing through, it is transformed.
Not changed in a sense of being corrupted or distorted. But transformed in a sense of being adapted, adjusted, aligned with the principle that existence is a constant process, not a static state.
He felt a new flow—spiritual energy that flowed from the Core of Awareness to 化室, then from 化室 to the entire landscape of the Water Understanding space.
And wherever that energy touched, subtle changes occurred.
The vast ocean—which was once only liquid—now had a thin layer of ice forming and melting on its surface, as well as fog rising and falling. The three phases coexisted in a dynamic harmony.
The flowing river—which was once only movement—now carried small ice crystals in its flow and occasionally released steam when it touched a warm rock. Flow, structure, and dispersion in one continuity.
The towering wall of ice—which was once only solid—now had a surface that sparkled with moisture melting and refreezing, and the cold air around it was full of steam that almost formed crystals. Stability, transition, and potentiality in one existence.
The entire space of Water Understanding is evolving, Li Yuan observed with a mixture of awe and… something deeper. Not becoming something different but becoming more complete, more whole, more aligned with the truth that water is three phases all at once.
Li Yuan didn't know how long he stood inside 化室, feeling the resonance of transformation, allowing his awareness to be absorbed by the harmony of the three phases breathing together.
Time was non-linear here. Maybe hours. Maybe days. Maybe longer.
But slowly, he began to feel something new—an even deeper awareness, which emerged from a depth he had not yet reached.
化室is not just about the three phases of water, he realized with a quiet surprise. It is a more universal principle. The principle that everything—not just water—exists in multiple states simultaneously.
Silence can be solid, liquid, or dispersed. Fear can freeze, flow, or evaporate. Even understanding itself can have solidity, fluidity, or diffusion.
化室is a template. A blueprint. A way to understand that reality is never single-state but always a spectrum of coexisting possibilities.
This awareness made him silent for a long time.
Because if this was true—if 化室 was a universal principle, not just specific to water—then the implications were vast.
All my other Understandings… they can also have their own 化室. Rooms of Transformation where they are no longer single-mode but a breathing spectrum.
But that is a cultivation for the future, he decided with a wisdom born from fifteen thousand years. For now, focus on water. On understanding transformation in the most familiar context before trying to expand to other domains.
No rush. Cultivation is a long, endless path. Every step must be solid before the next step is taken.
He turned—or more accurately, shifted his awareness—to leave 化室.
But before he crossed the boundary back to the external landscape of the Water Understanding space, he felt something that made him stop.
The resonance of 化室 did not remain inside the sphere.
It leaked—or more accurately, seeped—throughout the entire space of Water Understanding in an organic, natural, inevitable way.
Like spreading perfume, like light penetrating a crack, like water soaking into the ground.
化室is changing the entire space, Li Yuan realized. Not with force but with presence. Just by existing, it is already transforming the way the entire Water Understanding functions.
That is the nature of true transformation. It does not force. It does not fight. It simply… exists. And with its existence, everything around it begins to change naturally.
He crossed the boundary and found himself back in the external landscape—the ocean, the river, the lake, the rain, the ice.
But now, with 化室 existing at the center, the entire landscape felt different.
More alive. More dynamic. More… complete.
Like music that previously only had a melody but now also had harmony. Or like a painting that was previously only black and white but now had full color.
Li Yuan walked to the edge of the ocean and touched the water with a spiritual hand.
The sensation was familiar but also new. Water was still water—softness, flexibility, the ability to flow. But now he also felt the solidity of ice and the diffusion of steam in every drop, in every molecule, in every resonance.
This is True Water, he mused with quiet clarity. 真水 that breathes with three phases. That can be solid when the world requires stability, liquid when the world requires connection, or gas when the world requires freedom—but that never loses its fundamental essence.
And 化室 is the place where that transformation happens. The place where becoming is a permanent process, not an achieved destination.
He felt a profound gratitude—not to himself but to the Dao, to water itself, to the ice continent that had taught him this lesson with eternal patience.
I did not create this, he reminded himself with a discipline that had become second nature. I only discovered what had always been there. Water has always been three phases. Transformation has always been happening. I just became quiet enough to listen, patient enough to observe, humble enough to acknowledge.
The resonance of 化室 continued to spread—beyond the space of Water Understanding, moving through the structure of the Zhenjing, touching the Space of Questions and the Tree of Meaning and all the other Understandings with a subtle but unstoppable vibration.
And Li Yuan felt that this cultivation—which had begun with sitting in an ice amphitheater in the outer world—had just reached an important milestone.
Not an end. Never an end.
But a milestone. A marker. A sign that the path he was on was the right path.
化室had formed.
The Room of Transformation had appeared.
And with its appearance, Li Yuan's entire way of understanding water—and through water, his entire way of understanding the Dao—had evolved to a new depth.
A depth that had no bottom.
A depth that continued.
As always.
Without end.
And that—he realized with a profound peace—was the true Daojing.
A path without a destination.
A process without completion.
A discovery without end.
真水 that breathes through 化室.*
True Water that exists in the Room of Transformation.
A wholeness that never stops becoming.