When True Lord Shuanghua summoned Bai Qingxue, the first snow of the year was falling outside the main hall.
Bai Qingxue walked up the stone steps. Snow fell on her shoulders, the crown of her head, and the body of the Frost Moon Chant flute before quietly melting away.
The stone steps beneath her feet were covered with a thin layer of powdery snow. Stepping on them made almost no sound, save for the faint crunch of her soles crushing the ice crystals, as if the entire mountain were holding its breath, waiting for Bai Qingxue to pass.
The doors to the main hall stood open.
The scent of sandalwood drifted out from within, mingling with the falling snowflakes, making it impossible to tell which wisps were traces of smoke and which flakes were the outlines of snow.
Bai Qingxue paused before the threshold, brushing the melted snow from her shoulders before stepping inside.
The temperature inside the hall was barely any warmer than outside, but the scent of sandalwood made the air feel somewhat thicker.
True Lord Shuanghua sat behind her desk, a silk scroll with wet ink spread out before her. A brush rested on the edge of the inkstone, as if she had been writing only moments ago.
She wore a frost-white Daoist robe. Her silver-white hair cascaded over the back of her chair, almost merging with the snow piled on the window frame behind her.
The candlelight in the hall flickered slightly from the wind seeping through the cracks of the window, casting slow-moving shadows on the walls.
“You are here,” True Lord Shuanghua said.
Her voice was not loud, yet it clearly cut through the quiet air and the lingering sandalwood scent in the hall, reaching Bai Qingxue's ears.
True Lord Shuanghua did not look up as she spoke. The tip of the brush between her fingers was still moving across the silk scroll, only stopping after she penned the final few characters.
Bai Qingxue stepped forward, stopping three paces away from True Lord Shuanghua, and bowed slightly. “Master.”
True Lord Shuanghua set down her brush.
She did not speak immediately. Instead, she raised her hand and lightly traced a line in the empty air with her well-defined fingers.
The movement was very light, like brushing away invisible dust from the desk. Yet, the air in the hall began to ripple along the path of her fingertip, like the first wave spreading outward after a stone is tossed into water.
When the ripple reached the window, the snowy light on the window paper was pushed aside by an invisible force, revealing the winding outlines of green mountains stretching for thousands of miles, and the vast, boundless sea meeting the sky in the far distance.
Canglan Island sat at the very edge of the sea, looking like a grayish-white button pressed into deep blue satin, so small it was nearly invisible.
“The once-in-a-century Canglan Dao Discourse,” True Lord Shuanghua said as she withdrew her hand. Her fingertips rested back on the desk, and the expanded view faded away, the window returning to the snow-covered, white expanse outside. “Co-hosted by three sects: Xuantian Sect, the Northern Underworld Sword Sect, and the Falling Star Pavilion. This year, it will be held on Canglan Island in the outer sea of the Eastern Region.”
Bai Qingxue lowered her eyelashes, quietly listening for what came next.
“The rules remain the same as before. Five people from each peak, all within the Foundation Establishment realm, competing in a round-robin tournament to determine the victor. The winning sect will gain priority mining rights to three Grade-A spiritual veins in the Eastern Region for a period of one hundred years.”
The hall fell silent for a few breaths.
Sandalwood burned slowly in the incense burner. Ashes silently fell from the tip of the incense stick, landing at the bottom of the bronze burner with a barely audible rustle.
“You are aware of Xueji Peak's current situation,” True Lord Shuanghua said. She did not turn her head, but her voice was slightly lower than before, as if she were stating a fact that did not need emphasis, yet could not be overlooked.
Bai Qingxue stood in place. The melted snow on her shoulders had mostly dried, leaving a few light-colored damp marks.
Hearing True Lord Shuanghua's words, Bai Qingxue was no fool and naturally understood her master's meaning.
“This disciple is willing to go,” Bai Qingxue replied.
She spoke these words without much hesitation. After all, she was still the True Disciple of Xueji Peak.
True Lord Shuanghua turned around, her gaze falling upon Bai Qingxue's face.
Then she nodded, took out a jade slip from her sleeve, and handed it over.
The jade slip was entirely translucent white, its surface carved with intricate dark patterns. It felt warm to the touch. When pressed with a finger, the fine patterns could be felt slightly protruding beneath the skin, as if something inside was transferring warmth outward against the jade's surface.
Bai Qingxue accepted it with both hands. The moment her spiritual sense entered, the text, light, and shadows from within the jade slip surged into her consciousness like a tide.
The detailed rules, taboos, tournament structure, and venue descriptions unfolded layer by layer, like an unrolled map with clear borders and distinct pathways.
Bai Qingxue's spiritual sense quickly swept over the Xuantian Sect roster.
Her name was at the very top of Xueji Peak's list, followed by four other names. Among them, she saw Lu Xueqing.
Bai Qingxue skipped past the astrology-themed codenames of the Falling Star Pavilion, bypassed several names marked with "Requires Attention," and finally stopped on the roster of the Northern Underworld Sword Sect.
Zhao Yue.
Two characters, written with simple strokes and neatly aligned.
However, next to this person's name, there was no cultivation level indicated, nor any description of techniques. There was only a single line of small characters: The strongest Foundation Establishment disciple of the Northern Underworld Sword Sect in a hundred years. Possesses a clear sword heart, undefeated.
Bai Qingxue withdrew her spiritual sense and lowered her eyes.
“That Zhao Yue will be your greatest opponent on this trip,” True Lord Shuanghua spoke, her gaze falling on the jade slip in Bai Qingxue's hand. “The swords of the Northern Underworld Sword Sect are fast, precise, and ruthless, with no room for flashy tricks. Your path of sound attacks happens to be somewhat countered by their sword intent. Remember, do not rely too heavily on your magic treasure.”
“This disciple understands.”
True Lord Shuanghua nodded calmly upon hearing this. “Go prepare. We depart in three days.”
Bai Qingxue bowed and exited the main hall.
The snow outside the hall was falling more heavily than when she arrived, and the newly accumulated layer of snow on the stone steps made a softer, more crunching sound as she stepped on it.
Bai Qingxue walked down the stone steps. The jade slip had already been tucked into her storage bag, resting alongside the old pamphlet and the Frost Moon Chant. Through the fabric of the bag, she could still feel a trace of its lingering warmth.
When she reached the mountainside, Bai Qingxue saw the open courtyard door.
A warm light spilled out from inside, casting a small patch of dim yellow glow onto the snow, directly opposing the direction from which the twilight was creeping in.
The withered branches of the old plum tree reached over the wall, covered with a thin layer of snow that shimmered with fine specks of light at the boundary between the warm glow and the twilight.
Bai Qingxue pushed open the door.
Lu Xueqing was sitting by the stone table, an open map spread out before her. Her fingers pressed against the edges of the map, as if she were marking out a route.
She wore a light gray casual attire, her hair loosely tied up with a few stray strands hanging by the side of her face, fluttering gently in the wind seeping through the door crack. Hearing the footsteps, she looked up. The twilight fell upon her profile, outlining her features clearly.
“So fast?” Lu Xueqing said.
Bai Qingxue walked over and sat down across from her at the stone table. “Yes. We are going to Canglan Island.”
Lu Xueqing set down the map in her hands, her brow twitching slightly. “The Canglan Dao Discourse?”
As Lu Xueqing spoke, her lips curled into a faint smile. “What a coincidence. I am going too.”
With that, Lu Xueqing pushed the map to the corner of the table, reached out, and naturally took hold of Bai Qingxue's hand resting on the table.
Lu Xueqing's fingertips carried a familiar warmth. Starting from the back of Bai Qingxue's hand, she slowly slid down to her knuckles, gently rubbing the skin that had been chilled by the snowy wind.
Lu Xueqing could feel the chill on Bai Qingxue's fingertips being gradually enveloped by her own warmth, like winter breath on a windowpane slowly turning into visible white mist.
Bai Qingxue did not pull her hand away.
She watched Lu Xueqing's fingers interlock with hers, observing how the pressure of that hand was evenly distributed across their skin, as if perfectly measured—neither making the recipient feel constrained nor leaving the hand feeling ungrounded.
Lu Xueqing's thumb lightly brushed against the back of her hand, a tiny movement that seemed both subconscious and reassuring.
Bai Qingxue raised her eyes. Lu Xueqing's dark brown eyes reflected her image.
The twilight shattered into tiny specks of light within those eyes, as if someone had gathered the very last bit of daylight belonging to her and kept it inside.
“Yes,” Bai Qingxue said.
It was at this moment that the door to the side room was pushed open.
The door hinges let out a long, thin creak, exceptionally clear in the quiet twilight.
Ning Qinghan walked out barefoot, her Daoist robe draped loosely over her shoulders. The sash was untied, and her collar fell open in a modest gap, revealing a small patch of skin near her collarbone.
Her long hair was somewhat disheveled, the ends curling. She looked as if she had just woken up, or perhaps she had been awake but had no intention of making herself presentable.
She leaned against the doorframe, her bare feet resting on the floor just inside the threshold. Her toes curled slightly and then relaxed, as if adapting to the temperature change from the side room to the outdoors.
Ning Qinghan's gaze slid from Bai Qingxue's face down to their joined hands, but she quickly shifted her eyes back to Bai Qingxue's face. Her voice carried the hoarseness and lingering drawl of someone who had recently awoken. “If you leave, what about the restriction?”
Ning Qinghan tilted her head, as if pondering a question that required a serious answer, though her posture was clearly anything but serious.
“So,” she curled the corners of her lips, her smile carrying a lazy curve like a cat rolling over in the sunlight, “bring me along.”
“No.”
Before Bai Qingxue could answer, Lu Xueqing spoke first.
Her voice was not loud, but it was exceptionally clear, carrying a sharp edge she rarely showed on ordinary days. At the same time, she tightly squeezed Bai Qingxue's hand in hers.
Bai Qingxue's eyelashes fluttered.
She did not turn to look at Lu Xueqing.
Her gaze remained on Ning Qinghan, but the moment Lu Xueqing uttered those words, Bai Qingxue's fingers stiffened slightly within Lu Xueqing's grasp.
Then, Bai Qingxue pulled her hand out of Lu Xueqing's palm.
Bai Qingxue withdrew her hand and rested it on her lap, her fingers slightly curled, neither clenched nor relaxed.
“It is fine for her to follow me,” Bai Qingxue's voice was as calm as usual, as if she were merely stating the most ordinary matter.
Yet, these words fell upon Lu Xueqing's ears like an extremely fine ice needle, silently piercing into her mind.
Lu Xueqing froze.
Her fingers remained in the posture of holding Bai Qingxue's hand just moments ago, suspended above the table.
Her knuckles were slightly stiff, as if they had forgotten how to bend.
Her fingers were parted, completely empty, as if anything could pass right through them.
Lu Xueqing stared at the sudden emptiness between her fingers. The place that should have held warmth now held only air.
Lu Xueqing slowly lowered her hand back to the table, her movements so sluggish it seemed as if every joint were resisting.
When her fingertips touched down, they made no sound, like a withered leaf falling from a branch, drifting and swaying, only to land in a place it never wished to stay.
Her finger pads pressed against the smooth, worn edge of the stone table, neither too hard nor too soft.
Lu Xueqing could feel the coldness of the stone table, and she could also feel the residual chill belonging to Bai Qingxue on the back of her hand rapidly dissipating.
This chill vanished too quickly, so quickly that it made her heart race with unease, as if that brief touch had been nothing but an illusion.
Lu Xueqing lowered her head. The twilight pressed heavily upon her shoulders and back, stretching her shadow long and thin, lying lonely upon the bluestone slabs.
She stared at the empty space between her fingers, and then at Bai Qingxue's withdrawn hand, which rested quietly on her lap as if it had never been extended.
An indescribable bitterness welled up from her chest, clogging her throat—she could neither swallow it down nor spit it out.
She had grown accustomed to being by Bai Qingxue's side, accustomed to Bai Qingxue's silent consent and indulgence, and even accustomed to the way Bai Qingxue would subconsciously look at her without speaking.
But now, Bai Qingxue had calmly shut her out.
Just a single, quiet sentence, yet it left her more helpless than any heated argument ever could.
This feeling was foreign and sharp, like stepping onto snow thinking it was solid ground, only to suddenly plunge through.
Lu Xueqing's lips pursed slightly.
She wanted to speak, to ask "why," or perhaps simply be a bit more forceful and say something overbearing.
But the words reached her lips, only to be swallowed back down.
At this moment, she could not even assemble a single syllable, forced to let that bit of disappointment and ache churn silently within her chest.
“Ah?... Yes.”
In the end, Lu Xueqing only uttered those two syllables.
Her voice was much lower than before, carrying a barely perceptible hoarseness, like the lingering vibration of a taut lute string lightly plucked—drifting, uncertain, and weighed down by a heavy sense of falling.
At this moment, Lu Xueqing did not even look at Bai Qingxue, her gaze stubbornly fixed on her own clasped, slightly helpless hands.
The twilight deepened completely, like a bowl of ink spilled across the sky, swallowing the last trace of daylight.
The shadow of the old plum tree retreated silently from the edge of the stone table back to the base of the wall, merging with the dense darkness.
The snow continued to fall, steady and unhurried, blanketing all traces of the day and completely burying that brief moment of stillness and silence.
Ning Qinghan still leaned against the doorframe, her bare toes subconsciously rubbing against the inner side of the threshold, the cold wooden sensation making her eyes narrow slightly.
Her gaze swept over Lu Xueqing's lowered head, noting the tense lines of the other's neck and the slightly trembling eyelashes beneath a few loose strands of hair.
Ning Qinghan curled the corners of her lips. The curve was very slight, carrying no real warmth, but rather a hint of understanding.
To her, Bai Qingxue's actions were not difficult to comprehend.
She was likely keeping in mind the favor from last time when she helped resolve the restriction, returning it in kind.
It was just that this method of repayment... was somewhat too cold and unfeeling, especially toward Lu Xueqing.
Ning Qinghan's gaze lingered on Lu Xueqing's tense profile for a brief moment.
She had seen how well this person treated Bai Qingxue, and she had also witnessed Bai Qingxue's unique indulgence toward her.
However, with Bai Qingxue drawing such a calm boundary, she likely didn't even realize what this meant for Lu Xueqing, who had always been accustomed to her indulgence.
“Heh...”
A very faint chuckle escaped Ning Qinghan's lips, only to be immediately swallowed by the sound of the falling snow.
She lingered no longer. Turning around, her bare feet stepped onto the cold floor as she walked silently back into the side room, reaching out to gently close the door behind her.
“Click.”
That soft sound dispersed rapidly amidst the twilight and falling snow, as if it had never existed.
“Do you want to clear the debt that badly... Bai Qingxue?”
“Your Senior Sister is probably not going to be easy to deal with...”
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