The next day, Ye Qingyao came as well.
Ye Qingyao didn't ask anyone to deliver anything; she came in person.
Ye Qingyao was dressed in pale green martial attire. Her hair, dampened by the rain and mist, clung to her temples. She carried a cloth bundle in her hand.
Bai Qingxue was regulating her breathing in the quiet room. Hearing footsteps, she opened her eyes and walked out.
“Come in,” Bai Qingxue said tonelessly, looking at Ye Qingyao outside the door.
Hearing this, Ye Qingyao obediently walked in and stood beneath the old plum tree.
She then placed the cloth bundle on the stone table and untied the drawstring.
Inside the bundle was a small bag of tea cakes—deep green, tightly pressed, with fine patterns on the edges, looking as if they had been pressed by hand.
“Sister Bai, these are Heart-Clearing tea cakes,” Ye Qingyao said. “They’re from the tea trees on the back mountain of Qingyun Peak. I asked a senior sister to teach me how to make them. I picked the leaves last autumn, dried them over the winter, and only pressed them into cakes this spring.”
Bai Qingxue looked down at the bag of tea cakes.
“You made these?”
“Yes.” Ye Qingyao nodded, her gaze fixed on the tea cakes rather than on Bai Qingxue.
“I tried many times before I succeeded. The first few batches were either too bitter or too bland. I only brought them once my senior sister said they were ready.”
At this point, Ye Qingyao’s fingers clenched inside her sleeve before relaxing again.
“Sister Bai,” Ye Qingyao began, her voice softer than before. “When you... have some free time, brew a pot and try them.”
After that, Ye Qingyao said no more. She simply left the tea cakes there, giving the choice to Bai Qingxue.
Before coming, she had thought that perhaps Bai Qingxue would do as she had before—neither accepting nor refusing, leaving the item on the stone table until she had to take it back on her next visit. If that happened, she would just take the tea cakes back and bring a fresh bag next time.
She wasn't afraid of being rejected; what she feared was Bai Qingxue not even bothering to reject her, just leaving the gift there like the other items tucked away in the corners of the stone table, piled aside and covered in dust.
Bai Qingxue looked at the bag of tea cakes and was silent for a moment. Then, she reached out, picked them up, and put them into her storage bag.
Seeing this, the corners of Ye Qingyao’s mouth curved slightly. The smile was faint, almost imperceptible, but Bai Qingxue saw it.
It had to be said that Ye Qingyao’s smile was different than before.
Previously, when Ye Qingyao smiled, it carried a cautious, tentative quality, as if she were afraid of being rejected.
That was gone now. Her smile was quiet and certain, like a tree that had finally struck its roots deep into the soil.
Bai Qingxue didn't know why she had accepted it.
She weighed the question in her mind but couldn't find a definitive answer.
Perhaps it was because these tea cakes were handmade by Ye Qingyao herself, a process from picking to pressing that had taken an entire year.
Perhaps it was because she suddenly felt that leaving something on the stone table without accepting or refusing was more cruel to the giver than a flat rejection.
Perhaps it was because she had thought for a long time about whether to untie that green cord, only to realize in the end that she didn't want to.
She didn't want to untie it.
The thought had been buried in Bai Qingxue’s heart for a long time—so long that she had almost convinced herself she didn't know it was there.
But the moment she reached out to take that bag of tea cakes, she knew.
Not wanting to untie it was simply that.
No reason was needed.
“I’m leaving then,” Ye Qingyao said, not lingering or asking further questions.
Bai Qingxue nodded.
Ye Qingyao turned toward the courtyard gate. After two steps, she stopped and looked back at Bai Qingxue.
“Sister Bai, I will catch up to you.”
With that, Ye Qingyao left.
Bai Qingxue stood beneath the old plum tree, watching the pale green figure vanish into the curtain of rain.
The rain intensified again.
She looked down at her wrist. The green cord was still there, tied loosely with a tiny knot.
Since that day, Bai Qingxue had never untied it. She didn't know if she had forgotten to or if she simply didn't want to.
Perhaps it was both.
Bai Qingxue withdrew her gaze and entered the quiet room.
On the stone bed, the jade boxes containing the Foundation Establishment Pill and the Meridian Protection Pill sat side by side near the pillow. She sat cross-legged, not yet circulating her power, simply staring at the two boxes.
Two months.
In two months, she would either succeed in Foundation Establishment, with the Ice Spirit power forging her Dao foundation, or her meridians would be destroyed, leaving her a cripple.
Looking at the jade boxes before her, Bai Qingxue reached out and lightly touched the smooth surface of one with her fingertip.
The box was cool to the touch, matching her body temperature.
Bai Qingxue suddenly wondered: if she died one day, these jade boxes would be taken away, and the pills inside might be used by someone else. But what about the green cord? Would anyone untie it?
Surely no one would care about a worthless green cord...
If she were gone, that cord would remain tied to her wrist, buried with her in the earth, or cremated, or placed in some cold tomb, forever tied there.
At that thought, Bai Qingxue looked down and felt the small knot through her sleeve. It was hard, still there.
She didn't know why she was thinking these things.
Perhaps it was because the night was deep, or because it was too quiet after the rain stopped, or because the lingering warmth from Ye Qingyao’s palm on the bag of tea cakes hadn't yet dissipated.
Bai Qingxue hadn't intentionally thought about life and death, yet the concepts had found their way to her regardless.
Bai Qingxue withdrew her hand, closed her eyes, and slowly began to circulate her spiritual power.
Outside the window, the rain had stopped at some point. The moon emerged from behind the clouds, casting the shadow of the old plum tree onto the window paper—quiet and still, like someone waiting for her.
The shadow remained motionless, yet it seemed to tilt slightly, as if trying to lean closer while fearing it might disturb the person beneath the moonlight.
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