When twilight spilled over the courtyard wall, Ning Qinghan stepped back from the window of the side room.
She had been standing there all this time. Through the half-open wooden window, she saw Bai Qingxue push open the courtyard door, saw her silver-white hair swaying in the twilight, and saw the faint lingering scent of frost and snow from the mystic realm on her cold, elegant face.
She felt Bai Qingxue's cultivation base.
The late stage of Foundation Establishment.
She could not have misperceived it.
That aura seeped from the depths of Bai Qingxue's meridians, like a newly refined ice peak, steady and unwavering.
Ning Qinghan's fingertips tapped gently on the window frame.
Bai Qingxue had broken through.
Excellent.
After all, for every bit stronger Bai Qingxue became, the shackles of the restriction weakened slightly, and the boundaries of her freedom expanded.
This should have been a purely joyous matter.
Yes, of course Ning Qinghan was happy.
Except Ning Qinghan recalled what had happened that night.
She had thought she no longer cared.
After all, she was indeed the demonic enchantress of the Holy Sect, and by all rights, she should have viewed such matters with absolute indifference.
Yet standing behind the window at this moment, watching Bai Qingxue's figure return after her breakthrough, she suddenly realized she still cared.
It felt as though the extent of her concern had somewhat overstepped the boundaries of mere “utilization.”
Ning Qinghan pressed her forehead against the cool wooden window frame and closed her eyes.
‘You only want to use her.’
Ning Qinghan told herself.
‘Her breakthrough is beneficial to you. The stronger she is, the more likely the restriction will be broken. That is why you are happy.’
‘Nothing more.’
‘Nothing more.’
Then, Ning Qinghan let go of the window frame and turned to walk toward the door.
Her bare feet stepped onto the cold floor, her pace neither hurried nor slow.
But Ning Qinghan paused before pushing open the door of the side room, looking down at the collar of her robe.
At this moment, the sash of her dark outer robe was tied neatly, the collar securely covering the mole beneath her collarbone.
For some reason, Ning Qinghan suddenly recalled Bai Qingxue's promise.
“I will help you.”
...
Ning Qinghan pulled open the door and stepped into the courtyard.
The twilight filtered through the withered branches of the old plum tree, casting a layer of warm gray light upon the bluestone ground.
Bai Qingxue sat by the stone table, a teapot set before her.
The tea had been brewed at some unknown time, its steam rising in gentle curls amidst the twilight.
Hearing the footsteps, Bai Qingxue looked up.
When those light-colored eyes looked over, Ning Qinghan's steps faltered for a brief moment.
The split-second pause was like a pebble falling into water, rippling outward before instantly settling back into stillness.
Ning Qinghan walked over and sat on the stone stool opposite Bai Qingxue.
“You broke through?”
“Yes.”
Ning Qinghan rested her fingers on the edge of the stone table, her fingertips feeling the coolness of the bluestone.
She leaned forward slightly, her gaze tracing Bai Qingxue's face from her brow bone to her jawline.
The ice-blue pendant still hung around Bai Qingxue's neck, shimmering faintly in the twilight.
Ning Qinghan glanced at the pendant.
“The late stage of Foundation Establishment,” Ning Qinghan said, her voice rising slightly at the end. “Faster than I expected.”
Bai Qingxue lifted her teacup, offering no reply.
Ning Qinghan did not speak immediately either.
She withdrew her hands from the stone table and folded them over her knees, leaning back slightly in a relaxed posture, like a cat basking in the sun.
From this angle, her line of sight aligned perfectly with the plum tree.
The plum tree was still bare, save for a tiny, almost invisible bud swelling at the tip of a branch.
Ning Qinghan stared at the bud for a breath, then withdrew her gaze.
“What about the restriction?” Ning Qinghan asked.
“Still the same as before.”
Ning Qinghan's eyelashes fluttered.
She suddenly found herself at a loss for words.
This was unlike her.
She was rarely quiet; she excelled at filling silence with chatter and using idle banter to obscure her true intentions.
Yet at this moment, she realized she had no desire to hide anything.
Looking at the person before her, she was uncharacteristically tongue-tied.
“Bai Qingxue.”
“Yes.”
Ning Qinghan parted her lips. The words stopped halfway up her throat, and she swallowed them back down. She hesitated for a breath before speaking:
“When you broke through... did you feel the restriction loosen at all?”
Bai Qingxue set down her teacup. “Yes, but not much. The power of the breakthrough partially canceled out the restriction, but it wasn't enough to shatter it completely.”
Ning Qinghan nodded.
She intended to leave it at that.
After all, the question had been asked, the answer received, and the conversation could naturally end.
Ning Qinghan had planned to stand up, say, “That's good,” and walk back to the side room to shut the door.
But she did not stand up.
Her fingers tightened slightly over her knees, then relaxed. She repeated this several times, as if hesitating over something. Then, she raised her head and looked into Bai Qingxue's eyes.
“That night,” she said, “why did you reject me?”
The moment the words left her mouth, Ning Qinghan regretted them.
This was not a question she should have asked. She shouldn't have cared about the answer. She should have turned the page on this matter, like turning past a page of flawed calligraphy to continue writing.
Yet she simply could not help herself.
The words were out; there was no taking them back.
Bai Qingxue fell silent for a moment.
The twilight flowed slowly between them as the withered branches of the old plum tree swayed gently in the wind.
Then she spoke, her tone as calm as ever:
“Because you were looking for a tool, and I do not like that. Nothing more.”
Hearing this, Ning Qinghan's fingers curled slightly.
“That's not true.”
Ning Qinghan retorted.
Her voice came faster than she anticipated, slipping out before she could even process it.
Bai Qingxue looked at her.
Ning Qinghan met those light-colored eyes.
She opened her mouth, wanting to explain, to argue, to say, “How do you know what I want?” But the words caught in her throat, and she could not squeeze out a single syllable.
Because a voice in her heart was saying that Bai Qingxue was right.
Everything she had done that night—undoing the frog closures, exposing her mole, pressing Bai Qingxue's hand to her chest—had been calculated.
She had calculated Bai Qingxue's temperament, calculated her hesitation, and calculated that Bai Qingxue, in her most vulnerable moment, would not push away the warmth that actively approached her.
She had calculated everything.
The only thing she had failed to calculate was that Bai Qingxue would refuse.
And that refusal made her suddenly realize something.
When she was doing those things, what had she actually been thinking?
What did she want to obtain from Bai Qingxue? Was it freedom? Was it the lifting of the restriction? Or was it... something else?
Ning Qinghan lowered her head, looking at her hands.
Her fingers were slightly curled, as if grasping at something invisible.
She slowly spread her palms, tracing the fine lines etched across them.
Ning Qinghan opened her mouth, then closed it again.
Bai Qingxue sat opposite her, holding her completely cooled tea, saying nothing more.
The twilight deepened further.
The withered branches of the old plum tree swayed gently in the wind, and the almost invisible bud at the tip trembled along with them before falling still once more.
Ning Qinghan looked down at her hands. She turned them over, backs facing up, and lightly tapped her fingertips against the edge of the stone table twice. The rhythm was idle, as if she were merely passing the time.
“Though,” Ning Qinghan's voice regained its usual casual tone, her pitch rising slightly at the end, as if nothing had happened.
“Your breakthrough does me no harm. Every bit the restriction loosens is a step forward. The stronger you are, the better my chances.”
She emphasized the word “I” just a fraction more than “you.”
Bai Qingxue looked at her.
Ning Qinghan met her gaze and smiled.
“Looking at it this way, perhaps you really were right to reject me back then.”
Having said her piece, Ning Qinghan stood up.
Her movements remained casual, like a cat finishing a stretch on a windowsill.
And at this moment, this cat clearly had no intention of staying for even a moment longer.
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