When Bai Qingxue emerged from the main hall, twilight was sliding down the ridges of the distant mountains, inch by inch.
At that moment, the jade slip between her fingers still held the residual warmth from the incense burner in the hall. However, that bit of warmth soon dissipated, leaving only the inherent chill of the jade to seep into her skin along the lines of her fingerprints.
Northern Region Ice Field, depart tomorrow.
Those eight short words firmly nailed down an unknown period of time onto a pale, blank map.
Bai Qingxue should have returned to her own courtyard to pack her belongings.
She had even taken a few steps in that direction, her footfalls on the bluestone slabs steady and no different from usual.
But at a certain fork in the path, her steps suddenly veered. The turn was so natural, as if she had been gently nudged by something invisible.
By the time she came to her senses, she was already standing before the gate of Lu Xueqing’s courtyard.
The courtyard walls were low, and the honeysuckle vines climbing over them hung their leaves motionless in the twilight.
The entire courtyard was quiet—so quiet it didn’t seem like anyone was living there.
For some reason, Bai Qingxue raised her hand, her knuckles hovering three inches from the door panel.
The wind poured down from the mountains, causing her silver-white hair to flutter in waves.
She had never taken the initiative to knock on Lu Xueqing’s door.
In the past, it was always Lu Xueqing who came to her courtyard.
Therefore, Bai Qingxue never needed to knock.
She only had to sit in her courtyard, and the door would open on its own.
But now, things seemed different.
She didn't know how long she stood there. Long enough for the twilight to sink from gray-blue into inky black; long enough for the lanterns under the corridors to light up one by one, casting her shadow onto the stone slabs, stretching it long, then short, then long again.
A cricket at the base of the wall began to chirp, but stopped after two notes, as if it too felt something.
Finally, her knuckles rapped against the wood.
Knock, knock, knock.
The wooden door vibrated slightly under her fingertips.
There was no sound from behind the door.
Bai Qingxue waited for a moment.
At this moment, she wasn't sure if Lu Xueqing was there, if she had already retired for the night, or if she even wanted to see her.
But she knocked three more times anyway.
This time was a bit heavier than before. As her knuckles struck the wood, her fingers felt slightly cold.
She wasn't sure if it was because of the weather or because of nerves.
But if it was nerves, Bai Qingxue didn't know what she was nervous about.
She was simply standing before a door, knocking, and waiting for the person inside to open it.
This was the most ordinary of occurrences, something countless people did countless times every day.
There was nothing to be nervous about.
A moment later, the sound of footsteps came from inside the courtyard.
The door opened.
Lu Xueqing stood inside the doorway.
Her long hair was let down, the black tresses cascading over her shoulders with the ends curling slightly, falling over her chest and back.
She wore frost-white casual attire made of soft fabric that draped along the lines of her body. Unlike her usual prim and proper appearance, one of the buttons at her collar was undone, revealing a section of her collarbone.
In her hand, she held a teacup. Wisps of steam rose from the rim, blurring her features.
The moment she saw Bai Qingxue, Lu Xueqing’s hand around the teacup tightened imperceptibly. Her finger brushed against the rim, and her finger pad rubbed back and forth against the warm porcelain wall.
However, Lu Xueqing did not speak.
She simply stood there, her face slightly tilted up, looking at Bai Qingxue.
Reflected in those eyes were two swaying lanterns and a door that had been closed for a long time.
Lu Xueqing was waiting.
Waiting for a reason.
Waiting for a justifiable, dignified reason for this person to be standing at her door.
Waiting for a safe excuse that would allow her to open this door once more.
The twilight washed over Bai Qingxue from behind, outlining her silhouette in a blurred silver glow.
Her shadow stretched long across the ground, covering the tips of Lu Xueqing’s feet. The overlapping part of their shadows merged into a deeper darkness, looking like an embrace, or perhaps a tentative approach.
The silence stretched like a wordless confrontation.
The cricket began to chirp again, cautiously, in alternating long and short notes.
In the distance, the footsteps of patrolling disciples could be heard faintly, approaching and then fading away.
Bai Qingxue opened her mouth. Her lips were a bit dry, and she licked them, tasting a faint bitterness on her tongue.
“The Northern Region Ice Field... the sect is sending me there.”
Having said that, Bai Qingxue took the jade slip from her sleeve, held it in her palm, and offered it forward.
“The sect told me to choose a companion.”
“Would you... be willing?”
Upon hearing this, Lu Xueqing did not immediately look down at the jade slip.
Her gaze remained fixed on Bai Qingxue’s eyes.
Those eyes, usually as cold as the Northern Region Ice Field itself, were now slightly wide, with two tiny, flickering lights in the pupils.
It was the reflection of the lanterns behind her.
But Lu Xueqing felt that the light looked more like a crack.
A rare fissure that had opened within Bai Qingxue.
“When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow.”
When Bai Qingxue said those two words, Lu Xueqing’s eyelashes flickered rapidly.
Tomorrow? So soon.
Lu Xueqing lowered her gaze, forcing back the warmth gathering at the corners of her eyes.
Then, she nodded.
She wanted her nod to be composed, but in reality, her chin only moved slightly and almost imperceptibly in the twilight.
Then, Lu Xueqing reached out. Instead of taking the jade slip directly, she placed her fingers over Bai Qingxue’s palm, covering the jade slip.
Lu Xueqing’s finger pads pressed against Bai Qingxue’s cool skin, feeling the chill through her touch.
“Okay.”
When Lu Xueqing spoke that word, her voice finally held a trace of hoarseness she couldn't suppress.
With that, Lu Xueqing’s fingers took the jade slip from Bai Qingxue’s palm. As she did, her fingertips lightly grazed Bai Qingxue’s palm.
Bai Qingxue felt a faint itch in her palm that traveled up her arm and straight to her chest.
She withdrew her hand to her side, her fingers curling to hold onto that small patch of skin where the touch still lingered.
Bai Qingxue nodded and turned to head back.
However, after only a few steps, Lu Xueqing’s voice came from behind her.
“Junior Sister Bai.”
Bai Qingxue stopped.
“The tea hasn’t gone cold yet,” Lu Xueqing’s voice drifted from behind. “Would you like to come in for a cup?”
Bai Qingxue stood there with her back to the door.
The night surged in from all directions, wrapping her in a hazy, blue-gray mist.
Her back was stiff, the lines of her shoulder blades tensing clearly beneath the fabric, before slowly, bit by bit, they relaxed.
She didn't know how much time had passed.
Lu Xueqing was still standing at the door, maintaining her posture. She held the cup of tea she had just lowered; the steam from the rim was now very faint, leaving only a few ephemeral wisps of white in the lantern light.
But she didn't pour it out.
She just held it, her fingers steadily supporting the bottom of the cup while her other hand lightly braced the side.
Her shoulder leaned against the doorframe, her frost-white casual attire swaying gently in the wind. Beneath that undone button at her collar, the shadow of her collarbone rose and fell slightly with her breathing.
She was waiting.
Waiting for an answer, yet also waiting for an answer she had long since known.
Bai Qingxue looked at the person before her and replied:
“Okay.”
Lu Xueqing stepped aside, clearing the doorway.
Bai Qingxue stepped over the threshold. The soles of her boots landed on the bluestone slabs inside the courtyard with a dull, light thud.
Bai Qingxue’s shadow dragged in from outside, inch by inch, moving from her own shadow into Lu Xueqing’s.
As she passed Lu Xueqing, her sleeve brushed against the other’s.
The two layers of frost-white fabric met, producing an almost inaudible rustle.
Neither of them moved; neither stepped aside.
The moment the courtyard gate closed, it made a very soft click.
The lanterns under the corridor swayed and then went still.
The flames stood steadily inside their paper covers, casting the two shadows side by side onto the courtyard wall—one tall, one slightly shorter, standing very close together.
No one knew if the tea was refilled after that door closed.
Nor did anyone know if that cup of tea ever truly went cold.
But that night, the lamp in Lu Xueqing’s courtyard stayed lit until very, very late.
Figures occasionally flickered in the lamplight—sometimes a hand reaching out to pour tea, sometimes two silhouettes drawing close and then slightly apart.
Moonlight leaked through the clouds, falling onto the courtyard walls and making the honeysuckle vines that covered half the wall glow.
The moon’s shadow moved inch by inch across the ground, passing over the stone table, over the tips of their feet, and over the teapot that had been refilled an unknown number of times.
In the deep silence of the night, a very, very faint laugh drifted from the courtyard.
By then, it was impossible to tell whose laugh it was—perhaps they had both laughed at the same time.
Later still, the lamp went out.
But the moon remained bright.
The clear moonlight shone with immense tenderness upon the two doors that had just been closed.
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