Chapter 48

As Qing Zhouxue sat in meditation with her eyes closed, a faint, elusive fragrance lingered at the tip of her nose. Her breathing refused to settle, and her heart even less so.

She felt a restless heat.

The beaded curtain hung down, doors and windows sealed shut. Only a hazy, ambiguous light filtered through the misty window. In the silence around her, she could hear Yun Shuchen's breathing and the sound of her own heartbeat.

At some point, the scent seemed to carry a trace of warmth, growing more rich and gentle. Qing Zhouxue sensed her master drawing closer, but since she was meditating, she didn't dare open her eyes and lose focus.

In the end, enduring the ache, Qing Zhouxue lifted her eyelids just a crack and stole a glance at her.

She didn't catch Yun Shuchen's expression clearly. Because both of them sat on the bed, having removed their heavy outer robes, she only vaguely glimpsed her master's slightly open collar, jade-white skin, and a hint of cinnabar-like red—a small red mole on her chest.

"Focus."

Qing Zhouxue closed her eyes completely, and that flash of vivid color vanished into the closing darkness.

She seemed to have seen something she shouldn't have.

Her heart remained unsettled afterward, for many reasons—alongside the lingering faint fragrance, there was now that tiny spot of red.

"Is something on your mind today?"

After the incense in the burner had faded to its last spark in the ashes, Qing Zhouxue opened her eyes, still exhausted as always.

Yun Shuchen asked her this, and Qing Zhouxue didn't know how to answer. She wanted to say that perhaps her thoughts had wandered because of her master, but when it came to what exactly she yearned for, Qing Zhouxue found it hard to describe.

She wanted to look at her, yet dared not look too much, as if even a more intent gaze would be a desecration.

She must not do this; she must not make her master dislike her.

Unable to help herself, she twisted a corner of the bedsheet.

Suddenly, a hand cupped her chin, lifting it gently. "Your master is speaking to you. Why are you hanging your head?"

Qing Zhouxue looked up and instinctively touched the hand on her chin, but as soon as she made contact, it was like touching a hot coal—she quickly withdrew her hand.

"Your disciple... has nothing on her mind." Qing Zhouxue shook her head. "Perhaps I'm just tired."

"If you're tired, sleep. No need to force yourself."

After a long silence, Yun Shuchen sighed inwardly and let go of her.

The space, not exactly spacious, was warm to the point of ambiguity. The layered incense smoke burned silently, dizzying the mind.

She lifted the beaded curtain, stepped into her shoes, and walked out.

...So close.

Just a little more, and she would have uncontrollably kissed her.

Yun Shuchen tried to restrain herself, not thinking about what had just happened. Even if she did like her a little, there was no need to be so indulgent; all things should proceed step by step.

The wind outside was cool, the chill sudden, waking her up considerably.

*

Winter was biting, and spring hadn't yet arrived. It was said that among mortals, every household was now hanging red lanterns and red blessing scrolls, gathering to celebrate the New Year.

Cultivators generally didn't observe the Spring Festival. A sect's founder might go into seclusion for a decade at a time, missing many New Years in one go. If they had to come out specially each year, it would just be a nuisance.

However, Taichu Sect suspended classes during the Spring Festival, and the younger disciples had their own ways of spending it. Most of the outer sect members still had ties to the mundane world and returned home, while inner sect disciples generally stayed on their peaks, idle.

Ruan Mingzhu had brought Bai Su along, invited Qing Zhouxue, and later awkwardly roped in Lin Xunzhen, saying that staying on the peak just staring at one's master was boring, so they might as well head down the mountain together.

At that, Qing Zhouxue's brows furrowed slightly.

Ruan Mingzhu glanced at her reclusive senior sister. "I know you just love staring at your master every day—how amusing!"

Qing Zhouxue wasn't annoyed. She looked straight ahead. "She is indeed an amusing person."

Ruan Mingzhu shook her head and sighed.

Bai Su, unaware of any subtext, smiled and said, "Your sister's bond with Senior Yun is always so good; it's really enviable."

The four of them went to a restaurant in the town of Taichu Sect and ordered a table of fine dishes. This restaurant was quite famous locally, with a long history, and attracted not only mortals but also idle cultivators looking to satisfy their cravings. As the year drew to a close, other shops had closed, but this one still welcomed patrons.

Ruan Mingzhu clamored for wine and had the waiter bring two jugs. Given the atmosphere, the others each filled their cups as well.

After a few cups, the conversation loosened up. Ruan Mingzhu saw Lin Xunzhen down several cups without changing expression and widened her eyes. "I never would have guessed—you, you can hold your liquor so well?"

Lin Xunzhen said, "Can you tell someone's tolerance just by looking at them on ordinary days?"

"That's true." Ruan Mingzhu propped one leg on the floor, tilting her chair back, curious. "I always thought someone as proper as you wouldn't have much chance to compete in drinking."

"It's just natural. But truly, one shouldn't drink too much; it harms the body and easily leads to trouble."

Qing Zhouxue and Bai Su, who didn't drink, substituted tea for wine and focused on the dishes. Ruan Mingzhu had already begun to vie with Lin Xunzhen over drinking, and it seemed Lin Xunzhen was getting into it a bit, chatting while competing with Ruan Mingzhu in cups.

Bai Su occasionally chimed in, while Qing Zhouxue held her chopsticks with great seriousness, treating each dish with respect and quietly upholding traditional virtues.

"Where did you get that sword?" A woman's voice rang out in disbelief.

They all followed the sound to a girl in yellow, delicate and clever, pointing at the Qingshuang Sword lying beside Qing Zhouxue.

After a few more glances, she turned her head, flustered, and said to the young woman beside her, "Senior Sister, isn't that the sword you ordered last time?"

Her senior sister, neatly dressed and bearing an impressive air, also wore a long sword at her waist—clearly a sword cultivator.

Hearing this, she frowned and looked toward Qing Zhouxue—the Qingshuang Sword was gleaming all over, slender and beautiful, easy to recognize.

"I am Gu Ruoshui of the Liuyun Sect. Might I ask where you obtained that precious sword, young miss?" The woman stood, her voice carrying a hint of coldness, though her words were polite enough.

Qing Zhouxue set down her teacup and looked at her. "From a shop in Penglai, on the Eastern Sea."

The girl in yellow grew angry. "Do you know that this sword was promised to us beforehand?"

Qing Zhouxue waved her hand, and the sword flew into her palm, perfectly obedient. "The Qingshuang Sword chose me; perhaps it's fate."

What she said was indeed true. But the phenomenon of a spiritual sword choosing its master was extremely rare, with only a few records. And those words sounded boastful—even if Qing Zhouxue hadn't intended them that way.

"Preposterous! The Qingshuang Sword is one of the world's famous swords; how could it choose a Core Formation cultivator like you?"

The girl in yellow clearly didn't know much and arched her brows sharply. "Not only do you ignore the principle of first come, first served, but you resort to such talk—shameless!"

At that, Ruan Mingzhu set down her wine cup with a sneer. "Swords and such—you get them by skill; they recognize their master by strength. Is it just a matter of claiming with words? Then I say that sword of yours is originally mine—will you give it to me?"

Lin Xunzhen held her wine, quietly observing the other party. The girl calling herself Gu Ruoshui wore a dark Taoist robe with cloud patterns at the cuffs that seemed to stir like swimming dragons—quite luxurious, suggesting she wasn't an ordinary sect disciple.

Lin Xunzhen quietly pressed Ruan Mingzhu's hand, signaling her not to waste words.

"Junior Sister, don't make a fuss." Gu Ruoshui glanced at the embroidered spirit cranes on their belts. "Are you disciples of Taichu Sect? Let the sword go; consider it for the sake of peace. In any case, I wouldn't be lacking for such a fine blade."

They settled the bill. As Gu Ruoshui passed by Qing Zhouxue, she paused briefly and said coolly, "I hope we meet at the Immortal Ascension Assembly."

*

What had started as a good meal ended tasteless. They packed up, lost their appetite, paid, and left.

Bai Su saw Qing Zhouxue lost in thought. "Junior Sister, these matters are always misunderstandings. Don't take them to heart."

Qing Zhouxue snapped back to reality and noticed the others looking at her with varied expressions. She glanced around. "...Is there something on my face?"

"That restaurant's garlic cabbage was quite good." She cleared her throat, and when no one spoke, just stared at her, she thought the conversation had dried up.

It was a pity her master didn't like garlic, saying the taste was too strong.

That girl was always so composed.

Her senior and junior sisters breathed a sigh of relief, feeling they'd worried for nothing. Rather than fearing Qing Zhouxue's mood, they should have worried that the other girl would be so irritated by Ruan Mingzhu's barbs she'd die of anger.

"Right, who has time to argue with them?" Ruan Mingzhu snorted. "Those people are all talk. Come on, let's go shopping."

When they returned to Heyi Peak, it was already deep into the night. Ruan Mingzhu wanted to continue having fun, but Qing Zhouxue insisted on going back, saying she had something to do, so they had to give in.

Qing Zhouxue looked at the sky; it had darkened deeply. Her heart tightened slightly—at this hour, her master should be asleep; she wondered if she might be cold.

A light snow had just fallen and now ceased, leaving the surroundings strangely quiet. Qing Zhouxue walked a few steps, about to push the door open, when she saw Yun Shuchen, wrapped in a thick robe, open the door.

"Master?"

Yun Shuchen saw her. "Give me your hand."

Qing Zhouxue extended her hand, and Yun Shuchen placed something icy cold into her palm.

She looked at it in the moonlight—it was snow.

Snow piled on the ground was heavy, but in the palm, it was like half-white, hazy pear blossoms. Melted by the warmth, it softened and dissolved, then trickled slowly along the lines of her palm.

Drip.

"The first snow of early spring."

Yun Shuchen's expression was light. "For the first person I see this year."

Qing Zhouxue's heart seemed to be subtly nudged. Though her palm was cold, she suddenly felt the breeze and moonlight were so gentle tonight, and for a moment everything in the world seemed lovely.

"But... it's melted."

Only when she heard the person before her arch her brows and laugh did she realize how childish and overly earnest her words were.

Yun Shuchen had her come in, closed the door tightly, and drew a red paper packet from her sleeve. "I haven't celebrated the Spring Festival in a long time; I don't know if it's still the old custom. The snow may have melted, but you must hold onto this."

Qing Zhouxue touched the red, weighty packet—inside were many banknotes.

"With this, my little disciple won't be carried off by the Nian beast." The woman curved her lips, tilted her head to look at her, and said softly, "After the new year, may your days be auspicious."