In the misty valleys of Mount Yun, where immortal cultivators sought the Dao among ethereal peaks, lived an unusual immortal named Chen Yi. Unlike his peers who pursued grand cosmic powers, he dedicated himself to growing the perfect cauliflower in his celestial garden.

“Master Chen, why do you waste your immortal abilities on mere vegetables?” asked his newly arrived disciple, Liu Wei, watching Chen Yi tenderly care for the white florets one autumn morning.

Chen Yi smiled softly, his weathered hands ghosting over the leaves. “In each of these heads lies a universe of its own, young one. Have you noticed how the spirals follow the golden ratio? How the fractals mirror cosmic patterns?”

Liu Wei knelt beside the garden bed, really looking at the vegetables for the first time. The morning dew made them glisten like pearl clusters.

“But surely there are grander pursuits for an immortal?” Liu Wei persisted, though his tone carried more curiosity than judgment now.

“Perhaps,” Chen Yi replied, carefully loosening the soil around a mature head. “But I’ve found more wisdom in nurturing these humble plants than in all my centuries of martial cultivation. They teach patience, attention to detail, and the profound truth that greatness often lies in small things.”

Days passed into months as Liu Wei studied under Chen Yi. He learned to feel the qi flowing through soil and stem, to understand the subtle language of leaves and roots. The garden became his meditation hall.

One evening, as master and disciple sat drinking tea made from garden herbs, Liu Wei asked, “Master, I’ve noticed you never use immortal energy to speed their growth. Why?”

Chen Yi cradled his cup, steam rising like mountain mist. “Rush the blooming of a flower, and its petals may be perfect but its fragrance hollow. Force the ripening of fruit, and it may look sweet but taste bitter. True cultivation - of plants, of power, of the self - cannot be hastened.”

“Like these cauliflowers,” Liu Wei mused. “They take their time, growing according to nature’s rhythm.”

“Precisely.” Chen Yi nodded approvingly. “And in doing so, they achieve a natural perfection that no amount of magical forcing could match.”

Years later, when other immortals would visit Mount Yun seeking Chen Yi’s renowned wisdom, they would find him in his garden, teaching through metaphors of soil and seed. His cauliflowers became famous throughout the celestial realms, not for any magical properties, but for their simple, sublime perfection - each head a meditation on patience, each leaf a lesson in mindful cultivation.

And Liu Wei, now a master gardener himself, understood at last that his teacher had shown him the highest path to immortality - not through conquering nature, but through harmonizing with it, finding transcendence in the cool morning dew on cauliflower leaves and the quiet wisdom of growing things.