Snow hadn't stopped falling, soft as drifting ash. Beneath the stone steps of the novices' quarters, two figures waited by a half-frozen lantern.
Nie Xiaohuan had his arms folded, trying not to shiver. His robes were neat despite the cold, his expression already showing the beginnings of a scolding. Beside him, Qin Roulan was crouched, sketching nonsense shapes into the snow with a stick, her cheeks puffed in impatience.
"He's late," Roulan muttered. "Didn't we tell him to meet us here as soon as he unpacked?"
"Maybe he got lost," Xiaohuan said flatly. "Or maybe he found trouble."
"I'm sure he did."
Just then, a faint laugh echoed down the path — light, unbothered.
Shen Lianxiu came jogging through the snow, hair disheveled, a few pine needles still caught in his robe. "You won't believe what just happened!" he announced breathlessly. "I think I met the strictest senior in this whole mountain!"
Roulan burst into laughter before he even finished. "You went out exploring, didn't you?"
"Not exploring! Just walking! The sect's too big to stay still."
Xiaohuan arched an eyebrow. "And you walked straight into the seniors' gathering, I'm guessing?"
Lianxiu froze, eyes widening. "How did you—"
Xiaohuan sighed. "Because you look like someone who'd do that."
Roulan giggled, tugging at Lianxiu's sleeve. "Tell us! What were they like?"
"They were… amazing," Lianxiu said, dropping dramatically to sit beside them on the cold stone. "They looked so cool — especially one of them. He didn't even have to scold me loudly. He just looked at me and I almost felt my soul leave my body!"
Roulan leaned forward. "Was he handsome?"
Lianxiu pretended to think, then grinned. "Too handsome. And too serious. If he smiles, I think the heavens would probably shine brighter."
Xiaohuan rolled his eyes, though a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. "You sound like you're already in trouble."
"Maybe I am," Lianxiu said lightly, lying back against the steps, snowflakes gathering in his hair. "But it was worth it. I think I'll make that senior laugh one day."
Roulan snorted. "You? He'll throw you off the mountain before you manage that."
Lianxiu only laughed, eyes half-closed against the night sky. The stars were pale, the air crisp with the scent of pine and cold stone. Beside him, his two new friends bickered softly, their voices threading through the falling snow.
Morning sunlight spilled across the snow-dusted courtyard, scattering gold over the flagstones. The frost had yet to melt; every breath left a wisp of mist in the air.
Dozens of new disciples stood in two long rows, their wooden practice swords gleaming faintly in the cold light. Excitement and nerves trembled through the air like the hum of strings.
Among the new arrivals stood Shen Lianxiu, restless as ever. He couldn't stop glancing at the slope where yesterday's "bushy hiding place incident" had taken place. Nie Xiaohuan, beside him, sighed and muttered, "If you mess up again, I'm not saving you."Roulan stifled a laugh. "He'll mess up anyway. He just doesn't know it yet."
Before Lianxiu could retort, a voice rolled across the field — smooth, amused, and loud enough to make even the frost tremble.
"Ah, look at this! The future pillars of Jingshou Sect — all so serious they might freeze before the next breath."
Heads turned.
Descending from the stone steps were two figures, sunlight breaking across their silhouettes like gold on water.
The first — a tall woman in dark violet robes, sword hanging at her hip — walked with effortless confidence. Her hair was tied in a loose braid, her expression sharp and teasing, and when she smiled, even the wind seemed to pause. This was Master Yue Lan, the sect's storm: bold, dazzling, and untouchable.
Beside her, a man in flowing pale blue followed, his fan tapping idly against his palm. Master Pei Yunsheng, the sect's moonlight — all grace and wicked humor, with eyes that seemed to hold every secret in the world.
The moment they appeared, a wave of whispers ran through the juniors."Master Yue Lan looks even cooler than the rumors say—""Shh! Master Pei is smiling again—he's dangerous when he smiles!"
Pei Yunsheng laughed softly. "Dangerous? I'm merely appreciative."Yue Lan shot him a sidelong glance. "Appreciate less. Teach more."
The masters reached the center of the training field. Yue Lan's voice carried with striking clarity.
In one fluid motion, every disciple bowed. Robes rustled like waves.
Xiuyuan and the other six seniors knelt with precise grace, foreheads nearly touching the cold ground. "We greet our Masters."
Pei Yunsheng lifted his fan, eyes glinting. "Rise."
When they rose, Xiuyuan stepped forward, his tone formal but gentle. "Masters, the new disciples await your guidance."
"New disciples—your first lesson is simple. Strength without discipline is nothing. Discipline without heart is worse."Then, with a smirk: "And if you faint during the first round, I'm not carrying you back up the hill."
Pei Yunsheng unfolded his fan lazily. "Don't worry. I'll carry them. Especially the ones with good manners and pretty faces."
Half the disciples turned scarlet. The other half looked like they might faint voluntarily.
Shen Lianxiu couldn't hold back a laugh — loud and delighted.
Pei Yunsheng caught it, of course, and his fan snapped shut. "That one's got spirit,"
Yue Lan's gaze swept over the young faces. "Then let the seniors begin. You'll watch today."
At her nod, the seven senior disciples moved apart, each taking charge of a small group. The field came alive again — wooden swords striking, boots crunching frost, the air sharp with focus.
Xiuyuan's group stood near the center. His posture was straight, eyes calm as still water. "Form a circle," he instructed. "Stance, breath, grip — each motion reflects your heart. If your mind wavers, so will your blade."
He walked among the novices, correcting wrists and footwork with steady precision. When he stopped before Shen Lianxiu, he found the boy's stance half-perfect — light, almost too light, but graceful.
"You," Xiuyuan said quietly. "What's your name?"
"Shen Lianxiu," the boy replied brightly, eyes full of unguarded mischief. "Shizun—oh, I mean—Shixiong."
The slip drew a ripple of laughter from nearby disciples. Xiuyuan's brow twitched, but he said only, "Too loose. Your stance may look free, but freedom without control is just carelessness."
Lianxiu grinned, scratching his head. "Then I'll learn control. But it's more fun when the sword moves first, isn't it?"
Zhou Qingrong, passing by, snorted softly. "Bold words for someone who can barely hold a sword straight."
The field's laughter rose again, but Yue Lan's clear voice cut through from a distance, amused:"Boldness isn't a sin, Qingrong. Every blade starts untempered."
Pei Yunsheng's fan fluttered open beside her. "And some remain untempered just to keep things interesting."
At that, the younger disciples broke into a ripple of grins — the kind of warmth that only early mornings and good-humored masters could bring.
By the time the bells signaled the lesson's end, mist had thinned to sunlight, and frost melted into clear rivulets along the stones.
Han Yuejian called his group to attention. "Remember this," he said, voice softer. "Cultivation begins not with talent but with persistence. No fire burns without patience."
Even Shen Lianxiu, still half-grinning, seemed to listen.
By noon, the frost had melted into soft puddles that shimmered under the pale sun. Disciples rested along the edges of the courtyard, chatting, wiping sweat, comparing bruises. The smell of tea and damp grass filled the air.
Shen Lianxiu dropped onto the steps beside Nie Xiaohuan and Qin Roulan, fanning himself with a broken palm leaf."First day and I'm already dying," he groaned dramatically. "If we have to bow any longer, my back will split in half."
Roulan rolled her eyes. "You were barely holding your sword straight. Maybe if you trained instead of chatting up every senior who passes by, you wouldn't be this tired."
"Hey, I was being friendly!" Lianxiu protested, flashing his usual grin. "If you don't smile, how will people remember you?"
"By your mistakes," Xiaohuan muttered, though his lips twitched.
Their laughter came easy — until a shadow fell across them.
Three disciples stood nearby, all in pristine white robes that hadn't seen a drop of sweat. The one in the middle, tall and sharp-faced, folded his arms. "So these are the new recruits causing noise on their first day."
Lianxiu looked up. "Oh? Sorry, I didn't know the courtyard was yours."
"It's not," the boy said coldly, "but it belongs to those who respect discipline. You're the one who spoke back to Senior Ling, aren't you? The one who made everyone laugh."
"Ah," Lianxiu said, smiling as if remembering something pleasant. "That was me. Why? Jealous you didn't make anyone laugh?"
The air around them tightened. Nie Xiaohuan immediately stood, stepping slightly in front of him. "We don't want trouble."
"Oh, I think you already found it," said the boy on the right, a girl with sleek hair tied in a golden clasp. "Our Shixiong doesn't take mockery lightly."
Lianxiu leaned his chin on his hand, unbothered. "Then your Shixiong needs better hobbies."
The tall boy's eyes flashed — he took a step forward, energy flaring faintly around his palms — but before anyone could move, a clear voice cut through the courtyard.
"Enough."
The group turned. Ling Xiuyuan was standing at the far end of the field, sword still in hand, expression unreadable. Sunlight caught on the silver edge of his blade.
The three rival disciples immediately bowed. "Senior Ling."
He looked between them, then at Lianxiu's trio, his tone calm but heavy. "You think strength is measured in noise and argument? Every word you waste is one less breath for training."
The rivals lowered their heads; Lianxiu opened his mouth, thought better of it, and muttered something only Xiaohuan could hear.
Xiuyuan's gaze shifted — just briefly — to Lianxiu. It wasn't anger, not exactly. More like quiet warning.
"Enough for today," he said finally. "Tomorrow, you'll spar. I'll see if any of you can prove that your talk has merit."
A spark passed through the courtyard — excitement and dread mingled.The three rivals smirked in confidence. Lianxiu's lips curved, sharp and unafraid.
When Xiuyuan turned away, Roulan whispered, "Why do I feel you're about to regret this?"
"Regret?" Lianxiu said, standing up and stretching. "Not possible. I was born for trouble."
Xiaohuan sighed, looking at him with weary affection. "And I was born to clean it up."
That night, the courtyard buzzed with whispers — the new disciples' first day had already promised a duel at dawn. Some said Ling Xiuyuan himself would watch.
Under the moonlight, Lianxiu lay on the roof outside their quarters, arms folded behind his head, staring at the stars."Hey, Xiaohuan," he murmured. "Do you think that serious Shixiong of ours ever smiles?"
"Only when he's not looking at you," Xiaohuan said flatly.
Lianxiu laughed softly. "Then I'll make him."