Lu Xueqing's visits to Bai Qingxue's courtyard became more and more irregular.
In the past, she had always gone at dusk, brewing a pot of tea and sitting for half an hour, stealing glances at Bai Qingxue's profile whenever the other girl lowered her head to drink her tea before rising to leave, like a tide that rose and fell on a precise schedule.
But now, she couldn't do it.
She had tried, but whenever she saw Bai Qingxue carrying the Frost Moon Chant past the corridors near the Affairs Hall, her feet would unconsciously follow.
She would stand at a distance while Bai Qingxue spoke with Liu Ningshuang, only realizing after Bai Qingxue had walked away that she was clutching a bag of pine nut candy bought from the market, squeezing it so hard that the wrapper had crumpled.
That evening, Lu Xueqing came to Bai Qingxue's courtyard once again.
Lu Xueqing made no sound as she pushed open the courtyard door.
She saw the door to the main room was slightly ajar, but just as she was about to walk over, her peripheral vision caught two silhouettes cast upon the window lattice paper of the side room.
She froze.
One silhouette was sitting while the other stood. The standing figure bent down, and from Lu Xueqing's angle, it looked as if she were leaning in close to the seated figure. The candlelight projected their outlines onto the paper—blurry, soft, and almost melting into one.
The standing figure reached out. The silhouette of a hand appeared on the paper, resting on the shoulder of the seated figure.
The movement wasn't fast, carrying an almost natural ease.
Yet the seated figure remained unmoved.
Lu Xueqing stood in the courtyard, the withered branches of the old plum tree stretching above her toward the darkening twilight sky, a few remaining leaves clinging to the twigs and trembling gently in the wind.
She stared at the window, watching the overlapping silhouettes on the paper, watching the hand move from the shoulder to the side of the neck, as if tucking away a stray lock of hair.
Ning Qinghan's hand brushed back the silver hair cascading down the side of Bai Qingxue's face.
Lu Xueqing watched the shadow of the hand slowly retract in the candlelight.
Her throat tightened, and she turned around, walking back out the courtyard gate and coming to a stop on the stone steps.
Standing on the stone steps, Lu Xueqing let the mountain wind whip into her collar, a chill creeping up her spine.
She looked up, watching the last faint crimson glow in the sky get swallowed by the night.
She knew it wasn't Bai Qingxue's doing.
She knew what Ning Qinghan was doing. From the day Ning Qinghan moved into the side room, Lu Xueqing could see right through it.
The casual touches, the perfectly timed closeness, the words slipped into the silences of Bai Qingxue's thoughts—they were all intentional on Ning Qinghan's part.
But knowing was one thing.
When the shadow of that hand on the window paper tucked away that stray lock of silver-white hair, Lu Xueqing still felt a sharp pang in her chest.
It was like an extremely fine needle piercing her heart, carrying a touch of coldness. When pulled out, it drew a tiny, painless drop of blood.
Yet, Lu Xueqing could only swallow that drop of blood back down.
During the third round of the arena tournament, Lu Xueqing had been present the entire time. Unlike the others, she had recognized the flute instantly.
The Frost Moon Chant.
That flute had been transformed from Ning Qinghan's bell.
Because of this, the restriction had transferred from Ning Qinghan's wrist to Bai Qingxue's, while Lu Xueqing could only stand by and watch it all happen.
Lu Xueqing hadn't said anything then, nor did she say anything afterward.
Because back then, Bai Qingxue had needed that flute to fend off the attacks of the black-robed men.
And now, Bai Qingxue was using that very flute—one that shared the same source as the restriction—to fight for a spot in the mystic realm.
What about the future? She would probably continue to need it...
Lu Xueqing didn't dare to think any further.
When night fully fell, Lu Xueqing still went to Bai Qingxue's courtyard.
She pushed open the gate, finding Bai Qingxue sitting beneath the old plum tree.
The moonlight spilled over her silver-white hair like frost filtering through the branches.
Bai Qingxue held the Frost Moon Chant across her knees, her fingertips resting lightly on the holes. She wasn't playing, as if she had either just finished practicing or had yet to begin.
Hearing footsteps, Bai Qingxue looked up.
The moonlight caught Lu Xueqing's face, laying bare the thin sheen of tears in her eyes.
Lu Xueqing didn't try to hide it. She stood before Bai Qingxue for a moment before sitting down.
The two sat very close, their shoulders almost touching.
“Aren't you practicing your sword lately?”
Bai Qingxue did not speak immediately.
“Occasionally,” Bai Qingxue said.
“Junior Sister Bai...” Lu Xueqing's voice squeezed out of her throat, but before she could finish, she suddenly turned her head away.
Bai Qingxue looked at Lu Xueqing's profile, noting her turned head and the slight trembling of her shoulders.
She seemed to realize something.
Bai Qingxue placed the Frost Moon Chant on the stone table, then reached out and rested her hand over the back of Lu Xueqing's.
“Senior Sister,” Bai Qingxue called out softly.
Lu Xueqing bit her lip, refusing to look back.
“That flute is indeed connected to the restriction. But what does it matter if I use it?” Bai Qingxue's voice was gentle.
“Since it can no longer be discarded and can help me reach further heights, why shouldn't I use it?”
Lu Xueqing's shoulders shook violently.
She turned her head back, her eyes red as she said, “I know...”
Choking back a sob, Lu Xueqing continued, “I just...”
Under the moonlight, Lu Xueqing's face was slightly pale, her eyelashes wet and clumped together with tears.
Bai Qingxue's fingers tightened slightly over the back of her hand.
Then, she leaned closer to Lu Xueqing until their shoulders pressed together.
“I am here,” Bai Qingxue said. The three words were as light as a leaf falling onto the surface of water.
Lu Xueqing's tears finally spilled over.
She rested her forehead against Bai Qingxue's shoulder and closed her eyes, her tears soaking into the fabric of Bai Qingxue's clothes, leaving a small damp patch.
Bai Qingxue didn't move. She let Lu Xueqing lean on her, her hand still resting over the back of Lu Xueqing's hand.
After a short while, Lu Xueqing's breathing gradually stabilized.
She lifted her face from Bai Qingxue's shoulder, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and apologized in a low voice.
Bai Qingxue shook her head, offering neither a polite dismissal nor a reassuring platitude.
The two sat side by side in the moonlight, shoulders touching. Neither of them spoke.
Only the wind, rustling through the withered branches of the old plum tree, made a soft, whispering sound, as if speaking on someone's behalf.
Lu Xueqing turned her head to look at Bai Qingxue's profile. The moonlight rendered her features soft and blurry.
She closed her eyes and rested her chin in the crook of Bai Qingxue's neck. Bai Qingxue did not pull away; she subtly adjusted her posture to let Lu Xueqing rest more comfortably.
Lu Xueqing's lips parted.
She wanted to say, “I'm fine now,” and offer a smile to put Bai Qingxue at ease.
But just as the corners of her mouth began to lift, her eyes caught the outline of the old plum tree's bare branches reaching toward the sky—like skeletal fingers stretching into the darkness, trying to grasp at the unreachable moonlight.
Lu Xueqing's smile didn't waver.
From Bai Qingxue's angle, it looked like a weary, peaceful smile of someone who had finally settled down.
But on the side hidden from Bai Qingxue's view, deep in the shadows of the moonlight, something was sinking in Lu Xueqing's eyes.
“I am here.”
Junior Sister Bai was here.
But where was she?
In her heart?
In the rest of her life?
Or was Junior Sister Bai only by her side for this fleeting moment?
Lu Xueqing buried her chin a little deeper into the crook of Bai Qingxue's neck. The curve of her lips remained unchanged, but the light in her eyes completely faded.
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