The evening twilight was thicker than it had been over the past few days, bleeding slowly from the edges of the courtyard walls toward the center like ink dripping into clear water.
Bai Qingxue sat beneath the old plum tree, the Frost Moon Chant held horizontally to her lips, playing a tune she had slowly worked out that afternoon.
The notes were scattered and intermittent, like irregular cracks on a frozen winter river, yet they possessed an indefinable coherence that made one unconsciously hold their breath to catch the next sound.
Lu Xueqing sat by the stone table, her teacup resting on its surface, untouched.
She had not sipped from it in a long time. Her fingertip rested on the rim, her finger pad pressing against a tiny chip. She held it there for a long time, never moving.
The twilight fell across her profile, casting her lowered eyelashes into a dense row of shadows.
The music of the flute stopped.
Bai Qingxue lowered the Frost Moon Chant and rested it on her lap. Her fingers remained poised over the holes, the pads of her fingers flushed with a faint pink.
Without turning her head, she simply gazed up at the corner of the darkening sky above the courtyard wall, seemingly lost in thought, yet perhaps thinking of nothing at all.
Lu Xueqing stood up.
Her movements were very light; her chair made no sound against the bluestone floor.
Stepping around the stone table, she walked over to Bai Qingxue and stopped.
The twilight spilled over from behind her, stretching her shadow across the stone slabs before Bai Qingxue's knees, perfectly obscuring the end of the Frost Moon Chant.
Bai Qingxue looked up.
Something left behind by the lingering notes of the flute still remained in those pale eyes. It was hard to say whether it was softness or distraction, like a tiny crack that had just melted open beneath a sheet of ice, with something flowing underneath.
Lu Xueqing leaned down.
Without speaking, she gently picked up the Frost Moon Chant from Bai Qingxue's lap and placed it on the stone stool beside them.
She did this extremely slowly—slowly enough that if Bai Qingxue had wanted to take the flute back, she would have had more than enough time to reach out.
But Bai Qingxue did not move.
As always, she simply sat there quietly, allowing Lu Xueqing to take the instrument from her lap, and then looked up at her.
Lu Xueqing knelt down.
She crouched before Bai Qingxue, her knees making a soft sound as they touched the bluestone slabs.
She tilted her face up to meet Bai Qingxue's gaze. Less than an arm's length separated them. The twilight flowed slowly between them, casting an intimate hue over their silhouettes.
“Junior Sister Bai.”
Lu Xueqing's voice was very soft.
Bai Qingxue looked at her.
“What are you thinking about?” Lu Xueqing asked.
Bai Qingxue did not answer immediately.
Her gaze lingered on Lu Xueqing's face for a moment, as if trying to discern something. Then she spoke, her voice as flat as usual: “I was wondering if the ending of that tune just now was too abrupt.”
Lu Xueqing did not reply.
She simply looked into Bai Qingxue's eyes for a few breaths.
Then she reached out, her fingertips landing on Bai Qingxue's knee.
First, she tapped gently, as if testing the thickness of ice, before pressing her entire palm against it. Through the fabric of the Daoist robe, she could feel the slight curve of the kneecap beneath.
Lu Xueqing did not apply any pressure; she merely kept her hand there.
“Do not think about the tune,” Lu Xueqing said, her voice dropping lower than before, like a string tightened to its breaking point. “Just look at me like this, all right?”
At those words, Bai Qingxue's eyelashes fluttered.
It was a tiny movement, like a faint ripple stirred by the wind across the water's surface.
“Senior Sister,” Bai Qingxue called out, her voice as calm as ever.
Lu Xueqing's hand slid down from Bai Qingxue's knee, coming to rest beside the hand hanging at Bai Qingxue's side.
Her fingertips brushed against Bai Qingxue's, a cool sensation seeping up from the point of contact.
With their fingers pressed together, one cool and one warm, they touched.
Then, Lu Xueqing's fingers slid from Bai Qingxue's fingertips into her palm. Her finger pad traced the fine lines of her palm, pushing all the way to the edge of the line running across it before stopping.
Lu Xueqing felt the temperature of Bai Qingxue's palm. It was much cooler than her own, and touching her skin felt like touching a piece of jade steeped in moonlight.
“Do you get nervous too, Junior Sister Bai?”
Lu Xueqing's voice was so low it seemed to rise from the depths of her chest, carrying a heavy, damp weight that had been suppressed for a long time.
“My heart is beating so fast...”
When Lu Xueqing said this, she did not laugh and brush the topic aside as she usually did, nor did she use a deliberately light tone to cover it up.
She simply crouched before Bai Qingxue, her face upturned, letting her words hang raw and exposed between them, leaving no room for evasion or retreat.
Bai Qingxue did not answer.
But her fingers curled slightly within Lu Xueqing's palm, as if wanting to grasp her hand, yet also wanting to flee.
The movement lasted only a fraction of a second, so brief that anyone who wasn't watching her closely would have missed it entirely.
Lu Xueqing did not miss it.
She looked into Bai Qingxue's eyes, watching the twilight shattered into tiny fragments within those pale pupils. Then she lowered her head, took Bai Qingxue's hand, and slowly lifted it.
Guided by her, Bai Qingxue's hand passed through the narrowing gap of air between them, hovering just short of landing.
She could feel the distance between her palm and Lu Xueqing's clothes, barely a finger's breadth away. Beneath that frost-white fabric lay a warmth radiating outward.
Lu Xueqing did not stop.
She continued to guide Bai Qingxue's hand forward until her palm pressed flat against her chest.
Through the thin Daoist robe, through the soft inner robe beneath, and through the skin and ribs, Bai Qingxue felt a vibration.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
Each beat transmitted clearly into her palm, passing through her cool skin, traveling up the meridians of her arm, and finally settling in an indefinable spot within her own chest.
The heartbeat was fast and heavy, carrying a force that seemed ready to burst through the skin. Beat after beat, it felt as though something had been battering against the walls inside for a long time, finally finding an outlet.
“Can you feel it?” Lu Xueqing's voice was even lower now, as if she were speaking only to the small patch of skin in Bai Qingxue's palm.
Bai Qingxue's fingers spread slightly over Lu Xueqing's chest, as if to absorb the vibration more fully.
For some reason, she did not pull her hand away.
With her palm pressed against the warm fabric, she felt the heart beneath beating at a frantic, almost chaotic pace.
Lu Xueqing did not rush her.
She simply crouched there, letting Bai Qingxue's hand rest against her chest, allowing her to feel the heartbeat that could no longer be hidden.
Lu Xueqing tilted her face up slightly. In her deep brown eyes, there was no pressure, no nervousness—only a sense of peace that came from finally being seen.
“Can you feel it, Junior Sister Bai?” Lu Xueqing said.
Bai Qingxue's breath grew slightly shallower.
Her palm remained pressed against that warmth. Now, the vibrations of each heartbeat passed through the lines of her palm and traveled up into her wrist, as if leaving a lingering echo inside her own body.
“Lu Xueqing.”
Bai Qingxue's voice came from very close by.
Just three short syllables.
Yet they carried more weight than any form of address Bai Qingxue had ever used before.
Lu Xueqing's breath hitched.
She froze, as if pinned gently to the spot. Her hand remained where she had crossed the boundary, and Bai Qingxue's shoulder was still beneath her palm, but her entire body went still.
“What did you call me?” Lu Xueqing's voice was slightly raspy.
Bai Qingxue looked at her but did not repeat the name.
Yet she did not look away either.
In those pale eyes, the twilight shattered into tiny points of light, reflecting Lu Xueqing's silhouette and the long-suppressed, turbulent light in the depths of Lu Xueqing's gaze.
Lu Xueqing moved.
She withdrew her hand from Bai Qingxue's shoulder, lifting it so her fingertips brushed past her shoulder line to rest along the edge of her jaw.
Lu Xueqing's finger pad pressed against Bai Qingxue's cheek, tracing forward from the base of her ear to the tip of her chin before stopping.
Her thumb rested just below Bai Qingxue's lower lip, her pad pressing against the small patch of soft skin beneath the lip line, while her other four fingers cupped Bai Qingxue's chin. Her touch was so light it felt as if she were cradling a single snowflake in her palm.
“Call me that again, Junior Sister Bai,” Lu Xueqing said.
Her voice was so low it seemed meant only for the two of them, carrying a tension stretched to its absolute limit. Each word felt wrung from the depths of her chest, laden with warmth and gravity.
As she spoke, her lips were so close to Bai Qingxue's that her breath brushed against her cheek, sending a tiny shiver through her.
Bai Qingxue's eyelashes lowered.
Her fingers curled over her knees, neither clenching nor relaxing.
She could feel Lu Xueqing's thumb pressing against the corner of her lips, could feel the sensation of being held and cradled seeping from the surface of her skin into her very core.
“Lu Xueqing,” Bai Qingxue said.
This time, it was even softer than before. The trailing sound almost dissolved into the twilight, like a final leaf falling into water, yet to sink to the bottom.
But Lu Xueqing heard it.
She heard those three syllables slip from Bai Qingxue's lips with an almost imperceptible softness, as if the crack beneath the ice had finally widened enough for water to well up, dampening its frozen edges.
Lu Xueqing's breath faltered completely.
Her lips moved away from the side of Bai Qingxue's face, brushing against her ear, then sliding further down past her jaw to settle against the side of her neck.
First, the tip of her nose pressed against the thin skin, and then her lips followed, lingering for a brief moment as if to let her know what was to come.
And then she kissed her.
The kiss was incredibly light—so light it barely felt like a kiss at all, resembling more a leaf falling onto a lake, spreading a circle of extremely fine ripples.
With her lips pressed against the thin, soft skin of Bai Qingxue's neck, she could feel the pulse of the carotid artery beneath—once, twice, faster than usual.
Lu Xueqing kept her lips pressed there, not pulling away immediately.
She could feel the vibration of Bai Qingxue's pulse traveling from the skin to her lips. That warm, rhythmic thrum felt as if she were being told in the most defenseless way possible: I am here.
I did not turn away.
I did not tell you to stop.
Lu Xueqing buried her face in the crook of Bai Qingxue's neck.
Her nose pressed against the slender tendon at the side of Bai Qingxue's neck, her lips still resting against her skin. When she spoke, her voice carried a slight vibration.
“When you called my name, my heart beat so... Bai Qingxue,”
Lu Xueqing's voice was muffled against the skin of Bai Qingxue's neck, carrying an honesty that was unlike her usual self.
“It was so fast that I thought you would surely hear it.”
Bai Qingxue's hand moved.
She raised her right hand extremely slowly, as if lifting something from the deepest depths of the water.
Just as her fingertips touched the back of Lu Xueqing's head, the last sliver of twilight vanished from the horizon.
At that moment, the courtyard fell into darkness, and all silhouettes blurred into a mass of varying shadows.
Her fingertips pressed against the back of Lu Xueqing's head, her pads slowly tracing the curve of the hairline down to the slight indentation at the nape of her neck.
Her fingers stopped there, as if unsure of what to do next.
“I heard it,” Bai Qingxue said.
Hearing this, Lu Xueqing did not look up.
She buried her face deeper into the crook of Bai Qingxue's neck, resting her forehead against her collarbone, her breath brushing over the patch of skin she had just kissed.
The twilight had completely faded, and the moonlight had yet to rise. The courtyard was so dark they could only see each other's vague silhouettes and blurry outlines.
Bai Qingxue's fingers remained at the nape of Lu Xueqing's neck. She felt Lu Xueqing's breathing gradually steady, sensing that the long-suppressed emotions had finally found an outlet and were slowly spilling out.
She slid her fingers down from the nape of Lu Xueqing's neck to her shoulder, pressing gently.
“It is dark,” Bai Qingxue said.
Lu Xueqing did not move. “Mhm.”
Her voice was still raspy, but it was slightly better than before.
“You should go back.”
Lu Xueqing slowly raised her head.
Her eyes were slightly red now, but there were no tear tracks.
She looked at Bai Qingxue, and Bai Qingxue looked back.
The twilight had completely vanished, but the moonlight had not yet brightened. They could only see the blurry outlines of each other's faces in the darkness.
Lu Xueqing smiled slightly.
“See you tomorrow,” Lu Xueqing said.
“Mhm.”
When Lu Xueqing stood up, her knees were somewhat numb, and she swayed. Bai Qingxue reached out to support her.
Looking at the person before her, for some reason, an indescribable wave of tenderness and ache suddenly welled up in Lu Xueqing's heart.
“Junior Sister Bai.”
“Yes?”
“Will you play the flute again tonight?”
Bai Qingxue sat beneath the old plum tree, the Frost Moon Chant resting on her lap.
In the darkness, she looked down at the outline of the flute, then raised her head to look at the blurry shadow near the courtyard gate.
“Perhaps.”
Lu Xueqing waited for a breath.
“Mhm.”
Lu Xueqing walked out of the courtyard gate.
Her footsteps grew faint along the stone steps, carried off into the distance by the mountain wind until they faded completely.
Bai Qingxue remained seated, the Frost Moon Chant across her lap. Her right hand was still in the position it had been on Lu Xueqing's shoulder, her fingers slightly spread. She slowly curled her fingers into a fist, then released them.
Behind the window lattice paper of the side room, a very faint light flickered to life.
The glow was weak, illuminating only a palm-sized patch in the center of the window paper, as if someone were quietly whispering something.
Bai Qingxue glanced at the window, then stood up, walked into the main room, and closed the door.
The moonlight emerged from behind the clouds, washing over half the courtyard.
On the rim of the empty teacup on the stone table, a faint trace remained—like a handprint left by someone who had held it tightly for a long time, carrying a residual body heat that slowly dissipated into the night.
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