Snow blanketed the mountain like a silken shroud. The morning light, pale and hesitant, spilled over rooftops of jade-green tiles and hung in the mist like breath. Bells chimed faintly from the temple above, their sound half-buried in frost.
Three new disciples trudged their way up the slope — though "trudged" might be generous for one of them.
The first, a boy with messy hair and eyes bright as morning stars, was practically skipping. Every few steps, he turned around to grin at the others. "Come on, come on! If we're late, they'll make us sweep the entire mountain as punishment!"
"Shen Lianxiu," the girl behind him said through gritted teeth, "if you run one more step ahead, I'll push you off this mountain and tell the elders it was fate."
The boy laughed so hard he nearly tripped. "Then I'll come back as a ghost and haunt you, Roulan!"
"Try it," she shot back. "I'll hang talismans all over your grave."
Walking between them, the third youth — slim, quiet, with a steady gaze — sighed deeply, the way only someone used to their nonsense could. "Both of you, stop arguing. We haven't even reached the gate yet. What if someone sees you behaving like this?"
"Then maybe they'll remember me!" Lianxiu declared grandly, throwing his arms wide. "The most talented, handsome, and modest disciple ever to join Jingshou Sect!"
"More like the most talkative," Roulan muttered.
The wind teased their sleeves, carrying the scent of pine and distant incense. Above, the first glint of jade tiles shimmered through the fog — Jingshou Sect, proud and silent atop the clouds.
Even Lianxiu fell quiet for a moment. His teasing smile faded into something softer, awe hiding behind the sparkle of his eyes. "So this is it…" he whispered. "The real thing."
Bells rang once from the Hall of the Heavenly Gate — a deep, resonant chime that rolled down the mountain and scattered through the misted valleys.
Today, new disciples would enter Jingshou Sect.
Ling Xiuyuan stood before the main hall in his dark indigo robes, hands folded neatly behind his back. A dusting of snow clung to his shoulders, but he didn't seem to notice. His posture was straight, his expression calm — the picture of restraint. Behind him, the banners of Jingshou fluttered in the wind, their white silk edges gleaming faintly beneath the morning sun.
"Shidi, you've been standing like a statue since dawn," came a good-natured voice. Han Yuejian descended the steps beside him, his tone half-teasing. Older by a few years, Yuejian carried the same composed air but with a touch more warmth, like fire beneath stone.
Xiuyuan inclined his head slightly. "It's an important day, Shixiong. We're not welcoming wandering travelers, but those who will carry the sect's name. It's right to show some gravity."
"Gravity, yes," Yuejian said with a laugh, "but if you keep your face that serious, the new disciples will think Jingshou trains soldiers, not cultivators."
Zhou Qingrong, standing nearby with her arms crossed, smiled faintly. "Let him be, Shixiong. You know that's just his face. Even when he's pleased, he looks like the sect's about to fall apart."
At that, Wei Jingyan — the youngest among them — couldn't help but snort. "Don't say that too loudly, Shijie. If the Sect Leader hears, we'll all be running laps around the training field by evening."
Laughter broke the morning chill. Even Xiuyuan's lips curved — just slightly, enough that a few disciples passing by whispered in surprise: Senior Ling is smiling.
Before long, the deep gong sounded again. The Sect Leader himself — Master Su Zhenyuan — emerged from within the hall, broad-shouldered and commanding, his presence filling the courtyard. His dark beard was touched with silver, his eyes keen as blades. When he spoke, even the wind seemed to quiet.
"Gather the disciples," he said. "Let us begin."
The senior students stepped aside as the gates opened. Down the path came the new initiates — a line of youths in plain winter robes, their eyes wide with awe and nerves. Among them, three stood out immediately.
The first, a boy with unruly black hair and a grin that seemed incapable of restraint. He kept whispering to the boy beside him until that one — round-eyed and earnest — tried to tug his sleeve in panic. The girl behind them rolled her eyes so hard that even from the steps, Zhou Qingrong could see it.
"That one," Wei Jingyan murmured under his breath, nodding toward the grinning boy, "will cause you trouble, Shixiong."
Xiuyuan's gaze lingered on the boy a moment longer. The youth's smile was bright — too bright for the solemn ceremony. But there was something about him: the kind of vitality that refused to be dampened even by frost.
When the Sect Leader began to speak, all disciples bowed deeply. For a moment, all was still — save for one voice whispering again at the back of the line.
"Xiaohuan, do you think the Sect Leader's beard could freeze in this cold?"
"Shen Lianxiu!" hissed Nie Xiaohuan, horrified. "Don't say that! What if someone hears—"
"I heard," muttered Qin Roulan flatly, elbowing him. "And if I heard, the senior disciples definitely did."
Indeed, Ling Xiuyuan's sharp eyes had already found the culprit. From his place beside the dais, he looked directly toward the noisy corner — a calm, unblinking stare that silenced even the wind. Shen Lianxiu froze mid-grin, back straightening like a board.
Their eyes met — the composed, unreadable gaze of the senior disciple, and the half-defiant sparkle of a new one. For the briefest instant, the world seemed to hush around them.
Then Lianxiu swallowed, blinked, and tried to look as solemn as a monk.
The ceremony continued. Oaths were recited, names recorded, and the new disciples received their robes. By the time it ended, the snow had begun to fall again — faint, silver flakes catching in Xiuyuan's hair.
At the far end of the courtyard, Shen Lianxiu was whispering to his friends again. "Hey, did you see that senior just now? The one in indigo — the serious one?"
Nie Xiaohuan sighed. "You mean the one who glared at you like you'd burned the sect down?"
"Exactly that one!" Lianxiu grinned, mischief lighting his face. "He looks terrifying… but he's really handsome, isn't he?"
Qin Roulan groaned, pulling her hood tighter against the snow. "I give you three days before you get disciplined."
"Two," Xiaohuan muttered.
But Shen Lianxiu only laughed, the sound bright as the snow swirling in the morning air — and far away, Ling Xiuyuan turned at the faint echo of it, frowning slightly, as if sensing the beginning of something he could not yet name.
Night had settled softly over Jingshou Peak.The courtyard lanterns shimmered gold, their light weaving through the frost like drifting fireflies. Beyond the training field, the seven senior disciples had gathered around a crackling fire pit — the warmth breathing color into their pale winter faces.
Han Yuejian poured wine into their cups, his motions unhurried."These many years," he said with a faint smile, "and still, none of you have learned to cook properly."
Ruan Yue, sitting cross-legged beside him, pointed indignantly with a roasted skewer."Speak for yourself, Shixiong. I've been practicing! The last batch of disciples loved my dumplings."
From behind a fan, Zhou Qingrong murmured, "They were too terrified to say otherwise."
Laughter rippled around the circle. Even Wei Jingyan almost dropped his chopsticks from trying not to choke."Ruan Shijie," he gasped, "you added salt instead of sugar again."
Liu Shuhan, ever gentle, offered a plate. "At least tonight, the food's edible."
Beside her, Chen Yuanqi was trying to record the conversation for the sect archives, though his notes were shaking with silent laughter.
Above, the stars were a scatter of cold fire; below, the warmth of seven figures gathered around a small campfire. Wine gourd passed from hand to hand, laughter rose and fell like wind among the pines.
Zhou Qingrong had just finished an impression of Han Yuejian's solemn tone, and even the usually composed Ling Xiuyuan was laughing — shoulders shaking, eyes glinting in the firelight. Wei Jingyan nearly choked on his drink; Liu Shuhan clapped the ground, wheezing; Ruan Yue leaned back against a rock with a grin, and Chen Yuanqi was already begging for another round of teasing.
"Qingrong, if the Sect Master ever hears you mimic Han Shixiong again, I'll make sure you're the one writing all the scrolls for the next month," Xiuyuan managed between laughs.
Zhou Qingrong waved a hand airily. "Then I'll write in verse — maybe he'll finally appreciate some poetry in his orders."
That earned another round of laughter.
For once, they were just themselves —not seniors, not heirs of the sect — simply seven old friends sharing warmth under the cold stars.
Then — rustle, crack.
A bush behind them shook violently.
Everyone turned. Zhou Qingrong raised an eyebrow. Han Yuejian's hand went to his sword.
A small head popped out from between the branches — eyes wide, hair slightly mussed, face bright with the kind of guilty defiance that only a child could muster.
"…Uh. Good evening, Shixiongs," the boy said cheerfully, even though he clearly had no idea who they were.
There was a stunned silence.
Then, with a twitch of amusement, Ruan Yue leaned forward. "And who might you be, little spy?"
The boy scrambled out from the bush, brushing leaves from his sleeves. "Not a spy! I'm Shen Lianxiu — new disciple, arrived this morning. I was just… um… exploring."
Zhou Qingrong snorted. "Exploring straight into the seniors' restricted area?"
Shen Lianxiu scratched his head and grinned — mischievous, bright, utterly unrepentant. "Ah… well, I didn't know it was restricted. Besides, the fire smelled nice. And you were laughing — I thought maybe there was a story worth hearing!"
Liu Shuhan burst out laughing, nearly spilling his wine. "Ha! Bold one, aren't you?"
"Reminds me of you when you were younger," Chen Yuanqi said, elbowing him.
But while the others found the intruder amusing, Ling Xiuyuan's expression had already cooled.
He rose slightly, his shadow cutting across the firelight. "This place is not for novices. You should be in your quarters by now."
The warmth in the air stilled.
Shen Lianxiu blinked, startled by the calm, commanding voice — then smiled again, as though refusing to be cowed. "Sorry, senior… I didn't mean to intrude. I'll go right away."
Xiuyuan stayed silent, watching the boy's retreating figure.