The sun had long fallen behind the pine ridges of Jingshou Peak, and the scent of crushed herbs and sword-smoke lingered in the air.After an entire day of training new disciples, the seven senior disciples finally dragged themselves down the mountain path toward their quarters.
Wei Jingyan yawned loudly, slinging an arm around Zhou Qingrong's shoulder. "If one more of those juniors swings a sword backward, I'll start charging spirit stones for hazard pay."
Zhou Qingrong snorted. "And who will pay you? The Sect treasury or your own sense of self-pity?"
Han Yuejian gave an amused hum. "You two quarrel as if you aren't the ones who volunteered for the training in the first place."
Liu Shuhan chuckled, brushing stray leaves from his sleeve. "True enough. At least it's quieter now. Even the frogs have given up listening to Jingyan's complaints."
Ruan Yue, soft-voiced but sly, added, "He's still louder than the frogs."
Chen Yuanqi laughed. "And hungrier than all of us combined."
Even Ling Xiuyuan, usually composed to a fault, couldn't resist a smile as they crossed the bridge lit by lanterns. "Stop bickering and return early. Tomorrow will be worse if you tire yourselves out gossiping."
That only made them laugh more—because when Ling Xiuyuan laughed, it felt like spring wind over still water. It was rare, and that rarity made it dazzling. His expression, under the drifting glow of the lanterns, softened—dark eyes half-shadowed by his lashes, the faintest dimples curving at the corners of his lips.
He was beautiful in the kind of way that silenced noise: tall and composed, moonlight tangled in his hair ribbon, every movement poised like an ink painting come to life. Even his plain white robes seemed to carry their own light.
When they parted ways for the night, Xiuyuan gave them a short nod, the gentle one that meant good work today, and disappeared down the path alone.
Further along the courtyard, Shen Lianxiu was dragging his feet toward the dormitories with Roulan and Xiaohuan in tow. His hair was disheveled from training; a stray leaf stuck out of it like a small green flag.
"Finally! I thought my arms would fall off!" he complained, stretching his sore shoulders.
Roulan rolled her eyes. "That's because you were showing off instead of listening."
Xiaohuan sighed. "If you'd just focused, Shizun wouldn't have glared at you five times."
"Only five?" Lianxiu grinned. "That's an improvement!"
But as they reached the fork near the bamboo grove, Lianxiu noticed something—a faint glimmer through the trees, a ripple of moonlight over water, and a lone figure walking deeper into the woods.
His curiosity sparked instantly. "Wait here," he whispered.
"Lianxiu—don't you dare—" Roulan began, but he was already gone, darting off like a fox chasing mischief.
The stream below Jingshou Peak lay silver under the moon. Mist hovered above the surface, curling through the bamboo.Ling Xiuyuan stood waist-deep in the water, his robe discarded neatly on a rock. His hair, unbound, fell in dark ribbons down his back, clinging to his pale skin. The water shimmered along his collarbone and shoulders like melted glass.
He was silent, eyes closed, as though the world had narrowed to the rhythm of ripples and wind.
Lianxiu froze on the branch above, mouth falling open slightly.Oh heavens.
The Sect's aloof senior disciple—his face like cold jade by day—was breathtaking beneath the moon. No wonder half the outer court whispered his name as if it were a prayer.
Lianxiu, entranced, leaned forward for a better look—and the branch creaked. Loudly.
Xiuyuan's eyes opened instantly, dark and sharp as drawn steel. "Who's there?"
Lianxiu nearly toppled off the branch. "Ah—uh—fireflies! Just fireflies passing by—!"
Xiuyuan's brow twitched. "Shen Lianxiu."
The tone was quiet, calm, but somehow worse than shouting.
Lianxiu winced, scratching his head and grinning down from the tree, his hair sticking up like a guilty child's. "I was just—uh—admiring the Sect's… landscape! Beautiful view tonight, isn't it?"
Ling Xiuyuan let out a long, slow sigh — the kind that meant trouble was about to follow. His brows drew together, his jaw tightening as he turned his head, clearly searching for words sharp enough to pierce through Lianxiu's nonsense.
But before he could speak, something rustled in the bamboo behind him.
It was faint — a low shift of branches, the crack of a twig — but enough to change everything.Xiuyuan's expression hardened in an instant. The mild irritation vanished; in its place came a calm, lethal alertness. His body moved before thought, muscles tensing, eyes flicking toward the darkness.
"Who's there?" His voice was cold now, clear and measured.
Lianxiu, still crouched on the branch, blinked. "Uh… maybe a squirrel?"
But Xiuyuan was already stepping out of the stream, water streaming down his bare torso, the moonlight painting pale gold across the firm lines of his shoulders and the curve of his back. His hair clung to his neck, and his breath misted faintly in the night air — half divine, half human.
For a heartbeat, Lianxiu forgot how to move. His lips parted slightly, his heartbeat leaping.He's… really…But the thought never finished — because Xiuyuan suddenly moved, faster than a gust.
A snarl tore through the bushes.
"Stay back," Xiuyuan commanded sharply. His hand shot out and yanked Shen Lianxiu from the tree, pulling him behind his body in one swift motion. His wet hair brushed against Lianxiu's face, cold and faintly scented with pine and steel.
Then — from the shadows — a wolf lunged.
It was large and half-mad, its eyes burning a sickly green. Blood matted its fur; its ribs jutted through the pelt like jagged stone.Xiuyuan met it head-on. With no sword, he moved like one — swift, precise, unyielding.The wolf snapped; Xiuyuan caught its jaws with his bare hands, twisting aside as claws grazed his shoulder. Blood splattered across his skin, the moon catching the red like molten copper.
"Shixiong!" Lianxiu cried, reaching forward, but Xiuyuan barked, "Stay behind me!"
The beast lunged again. Xiuyuan pivoted, seized a fallen branch, and drove it hard into the wolf's side. It yelped, staggered, then fled into the darkness, tail between its legs.
The forest fell silent again — only the sound of ragged breathing and water dripping from Xiuyuan's hair remained.
For a long moment, neither spoke. The scent of iron hung in the air.
"Shixiong—your shoulder—" Lianxiu's voice trembled. He reached out, his hand hovering near the wound that now ran crimson down Xiuyuan's arm.
Ling Xiuyuan turned to face him. His face was composed, but his eyes — cold and sharp moments ago — now softened slightly, though anger still simmered beneath. "You could've been torn apart."
Lianxiu lowered his head, guilt flooding his chest. "I didn't know— I just—"
"You just wander around wherever your curiosity leads," Xiuyuan interrupted, voice stern but quiet. "You don't know this mountain yet. The wilds here are full of things far worse than that wolf. If I hadn't—"
He stopped himself, exhaled slowly, and pressed a hand to his shoulder, trying to stanch the bleeding. Then he added, more softly, though the edge hadn't left his tone, "Next time you see someone walking off alone at night, don't follow. Even if it's me."
Lianxiu nodded, head still bowed. His usual grin had vanished. For once, he had no clever words. The shame in his eyes was heavy and earnest.
Xiuyuan sighed again, weary rather than angry now. He reached for his robe and slipped it back over his shoulders, the white fabric quickly darkening with damp.
"Come," he said finally, his voice gentler. "Before something else finds us."
He began walking back toward the courtyard, and Lianxiu followed a few steps behind — unusually quiet, his eyes fixed on the faint stain of blood at Xiuyuan's sleeve.
Under the cold moonlight, the two figures moved through the bamboo: one tall, steady, and silent; the other trailing close behind, guilt twisting in his chest — and something else too, something small and warm and unfamiliar.