It was another Seven Peaks Competition.
On Qingyun Terrace, the morning mist had just dispersed. The banners of the seven peaks were already unfurled in the wind—frost-white, ink-green, crimson, and indigo, waves of color rippling under the sunlight like a silent declaration.
Disciples and leading cultivators from each peak sat in the spectator stands. Their voices merged into a low, buzzing hum, with occasional bursts of laughter or cheers erupting from somewhere, only to be swept away by the wind.
Xueji Peak's rest area was on the far west side.
Bai Qingxue sat at the very end of a long bench, holding a worn-out pamphlet in her hands. The pages were yellowed and the corners curled, looking as though it had been flipped through many times.
She did not look up at the arena, gave no instructions to the disciples who were about to go up, and did not even spare them a second glance when they walked past her.
She simply sat there, turning the pages of the pamphlet one by one, her finger pad tracing slowly along the curve of the spine.
The first round began. Xueji Peak's newly joined disciples were placed in Group A, and their opponents were their peers from Tianshu Peak.
The match lasted for less than the time it took for an incense stick to burn.
After a few clashes of sword light and a couple of spiritual power collisions, the victor was decided.
When the Xueji Peak disciple sheathed her sword, her wrist was trembling, her face pale, and her lips pressed into a thin line.
Her steps were slightly unsteady as she walked down from the stage, but she did not look back. The spectator stands fell silent for a brief moment, followed by hushed discussions from Tianshu Peak's side that could not be suppressed.
The second round was also against Tianshu Peak.
This time, the opponent wielded a broad-bladed sword with heavy, powerful strikes and solid footwork. The Xueji Peak disciple was forced off the stage by the shockwave on their fifth clash.
He stumbled two steps upon landing, his boots scraping a shallow mark on the bluestone slabs. He tapped the tip of his sword against the ground to steady himself, then walked back to the rest area with his head lowered.
The third round. The fourth round. With the conclusion of each round, the banner of Xueji Peak hung low, never once raised.
Bai Qingxue was still turning the pages of her pamphlet.
The afternoon sunlight emerged from behind the clouds, casting a bright, white glow over the ground of the rest area.
Bai Qingxue closed the pamphlet, placed it on her knees, and looked up in the direction of the arena.
It turned out someone was walking over from the main spectator stands.
The man wore an ink-green Daoist robe, with a decent spiritual sword hanging at his waist. He had a clear, handsome face and a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
He stopped at the edge of Xueji Peak's rest area, not entering, but standing just outside the boundary. His gaze swept over the disciples sitting with their heads bowed, before finally landing on Bai Qingxue.
“As expected, Junior Sister Bai truly only cares about ‘watching,’ huh?”
His voice was not loud, carrying a polite tone that was just clear enough for the few people nearby to hear.
He stood there with his hands tucked into his sleeves, his posture relaxed, as if he were chatting about some trivial matter.
The disciples of Xueji Peak kept their heads lowered; no one answered. Some clenched the fabric over their knees, seemingly not even daring to look up.
Bai Qingxue turned another page of the pamphlet.
The page made an extremely soft rustle under her fingertips, like the wind lifting a corner of a cicada's wing.
Her gaze remained fixed on the page without shifting, as if his words were merely a grain of sand carried past her ear by the wind, not worth her raising her eyes to brush away.
The cultivator waited outside the boundary for a breath.
Maintaining his smile, he said, “If Xueji Peak is short-handed and needs someone to guide the disciples, I can help. After all, the disciples are still young; someone has to lead them forward, right?”
Bai Qingxue closed the pamphlet.
Her movement was very gentle. The air between the pages was slowly pressed out, making an almost inaudible sound.
Bai Qingxue stood up, put the old pamphlet into her storage bag, and then raised her eyes to glance at the cultivator.
“No need.”
With that, Bai Qingxue walked past the cultivator. Despite being provoked in such a manner, not a single trace of anger could be seen on her.
Seeing this, the troublemaking cultivator was momentarily stunned.
...
By the time Bai Qingxue returned to her courtyard, the afternoon sun was already slanting toward the west.
The shadow of the old plum tree lay diagonally across the bluestone ground, its edges bleached slightly white by the sunlight, as if time had left a fading imprint there.
Bai Qingxue walked to the stone table, placed the old pamphlet on the corner, and sat down.
Her fingertips paused at the opening of her storage bag for a moment before she withdrew the Frost Moon Chant.
The courtyard door was pushed open before the twilight could creep in.
Lu Xueqing stood at the doorway, her hands empty of any tea.
Today, she wore light-colored casual attire, with no sword hanging at her waist. Her hair was slightly disheveled by the mountain wind, a few strands clinging to the side of her face.
“Junior Sister Bai, weren't you supposed to go to the arena today?”
Lu Xueqing sat down across from her at the stone table, her gaze falling on Bai Qingxue's hand holding the flute, before shifting to her lowered eyelashes.
“Or did you go and then come back already?”
Bai Qingxue did not look up. “I went. I came back.”
“...I heard Xueji Peak lost every single match in the first round,” Lu Xueqing said, her voice softening slightly.
“Yes.”
Bai Qingxue's fingers continued to move along the flute. It seemed she cared more about the jade flute in her hands than the topic Lu Xueqing had raised.
Seeing this, Lu Xueqing frowned.
She then walked around the stone table, came up to Bai Qingxue, and leaned down.
“Junior Sister Bai,” Lu Xueqing called out.
As she spoke, Lu Xueqing reached out, her fingertips gently pressing against Bai Qingxue's chin to lift it slightly.
“Look at me when you speak to me,” Lu Xueqing's voice was very soft, as if spoken only to the tiny pocket of air between them. “Didn't I tell you that before?”
Bai Qingxue's breath hitched for a moment.
Then, she slowly raised her eyes, her pale pupils reflecting Lu Xueqing's face.
The twilight spilled over the courtyard wall, settling into the almost nonexistent space between them.
Bai Qingxue's eyelashes trembled slightly as she looked up, like a microscopic crack slowly spreading across a sheet of ice.
“Yes,” Bai Qingxue said.
Lu Xueqing did not let go.
Her fingertips were still resting against Bai Qingxue's chin.
She looked into Bai Qingxue's eyes. There was no embarrassment in them, no disappointment, only a quiet, almost hollow tranquility.
“What are you thinking about?” Lu Xueqing asked.
Bai Qingxue fell silent for a moment. She looked into Lu Xueqing's dark brown eyes, which reflected her own image along with the fading twilight.
“I'm thinking about tomorrow's mission schedule.”
Hearing this, Lu Xueqing stared into those pale eyes for a few breaths, then curled the corners of her lips. “Alright. Tell me when you're done thinking.”
With that, Lu Xueqing withdrew her fingertips from Bai Qingxue's chin.
Bai Qingxue lowered her head, the Frost Moon Chant resting horizontally across her lap.
Her fingers rested on the flute again, but she did not begin to play.
She simply held it there.
“Lu Xueqing,” she called out, without looking up.
“Yes?”
“Someone from Tianshu Peak came over today.”
Lu Xueqing's brow twitched slightly. “Who?”
Bai Qingxue spoke the name.
Upon hearing it, Lu Xueqing fell silent for a moment, as if searching her mind for memories of that person. Then, she let out a soft sneer.
“Oh, him,” Lu Xueqing said, her tone carrying a rather impolite familiarity. “He always says things like that.”
Bai Qingxue did not respond.
“Next time he comes,” Lu Xueqing said, “call me first.”
Bai Qingxue lowered her head to look at their fingertips, which were lightly brushing against each other, and watched them for a moment. “Call you to do what?”
“To make him shut up.”
The corner of Bai Qingxue's mouth twitched.
Looking at the serious expression on Lu Xueqing's face, Bai Qingxue could only reply:
“Alright.”
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