Midnight had fallen heavy over Jingshou Peak.The courtyard lay drowned in white, snow whispering down in endless flakes, covering every stone and branch in silence.
Three figures still knelt beneath the frost-silvered lanterns.
Roulan's breath came out in faint white wisps. Her lips had long turned pale, and she was trembling even beneath the heavy folds of Lianxiu's outer robe. Beside her, Nie Xiaohuan shivered openly—he had run out here without his own cloak, and the cold now bit through his thin robe like knives.
"Y-you fool…" Xiaohuan murmured through chattering teeth, trying to rub warmth into his arms. "Why did you even—"
But Lianxiu didn't look cold at all. His face was flushed not from frost, but from the simmering anger that still burned under his skin. His hands, clenched tight on his knees, trembled faintly.
"I should've beaten them harder," he muttered, voice low, eyes distant. "Those perverts!"
Xiaohuan froze mid-motion.He blinked, then looked sideways at him, realization dawning quietly behind his dark eyes.
He hadn't known why Lianxiu had fought so fiercely—had thought it was another reckless outburst, another act of childish pride.But now…
He looked at the boy's knuckles, still raw and blood-streaked, at the stubborn tension in his jaw, at the fire that refused to die in his eyes even as snow piled upon his shoulders.
Xiaohuan said nothing more.He only gave a small, quiet sigh, and went back to rubbing warmth into his arms.
Roulan, half-asleep beside them, whispered something that vanished into the wind.
The courtyard was silent again—until a faint crunch of snow broke through it.
They looked up.
A tall figure stood before them, pale robes bright even in the dark, snow gathering like dusted light upon his shoulders. The sword at his side gleamed faintly, its edge catching the reflection of the lanterns.
Ling Xiuyuan.
His expression was unreadable, but the quiet strength in his stance made the air itself feel sharper. For a moment, it almost seemed the snowfall bowed around him.
"Stand up," he said. His voice was calm, clear—neither kind nor cold.
"B-but, Shixiong—" Xiaohuan began, but Xiuyuan's gaze turned toward him, silencing the protest.
"The masters have forgiven you," he said, his tone allowing no argument. "Go back to your rooms."
Roulan let out a sound between a gasp and a sob, springing to her feet. "R-really? Thank you, Senior!" she stammered, bowing deeply before turning to pull at Xiaohuan's sleeve.
"Come on—let's go before they change their mind!"
Xiaohuan hesitated for only a breath before nodding. "You too, Lianxiu," he urged, voice hoarse.
Lianxiu rose last, slower than the rest. His legs had gone stiff from kneeling, and for once, he couldn't meet Xiuyuan's eyes.He bowed low. "Thank you, Shixiong," he murmured. His voice was rough, barely above the hush of snow.
Xiuyuan watched him for a moment—something flickering across his face. Then, as Lianxiu turned to follow his friends, he spoke again.
"Shen Lianxiu."
The boy stopped mid-step.
"Nie Xiaohuan. Qin Roulan." Xiuyuan's voice was quiet but firm. "You two may go. Now."
Roulan blinked, exchanging a quick look with Xiaohuan, then gave a small bow and whispered, "Yes, Senior."
The two hurried off, their footsteps fading into the white distance.
Now only Ling Xiuyuan and Shen Lianxiu remained beneath the falling snow.
The cold pressed in around them. The courtyard was hushed again—only the wind sighed, stirring the lantern flame.
Lianxiu slowly turned back, his breath misting in the air, his lashes dusted with snow. His heart thudded once, hard, before he dared to lift his gaze.
Ling Xiuyuan stood a few paces away, sword gleaming faintly at his side, his hair loose around his shoulders. His eyes, when they met Lianxiu's, were unreadable—but the boy couldn't look away.
"Follow me."
They crossed the dim walkway, the night around them silent but for the soft crush of snow underfoot. The lanterns along the eaves swayed faintly in the wind. Lianxiu's breath came quick and shallow; he still couldn't believe his cold, distant Shixiong had come himself.
Xiuyuan's steps were measured — but he slowed once, glancing over his shoulder. Lianxiu's skin was blotched with goosebumps, his lips pale, the thin fabric of his inner robe clinging to his arms. The boy didn't even have a cloak.
Xiuyuan sighed quietly. Without a word, he untied the heavy outer cloak from his own shoulders and turned, holding it out.
"Cover yourself first."
Lianxiu stared, stunned. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.
"Don't just stand there," Xiuyuan said, faintly impatient.
The boy's heart gave a wild flutter. "Ah— yes!" He took the cloak hurriedly, wrapping it around himself, and grinned — wide and unguarded.
Xiuyuan turned away quickly, hiding the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Come," he said, walking ahead again.
When they reached Xiuyuan's quarters, the air inside was warm, scented faintly with sandalwood and tea.
Lianxiu hesitated at the door. "Shixiong— this…?"
"Come inside," Xiuyuan said simply.
The room was quietly ordered — no luxuries, only precision. Against the far wall hung an array of blades, polished and gleaming. Shelves lined the side, filled with scrolls and books: cultivation manuals, history records, even poetry.
Lianxiu's eyes widened with genuine wonder. "Shixiong likes studying history?" he murmured, smiling to himself.
Xiuyuan didn't answer. He gestured for Lianxiu to sit, poured him a cup of steaming tea, and then sat beside him, setting a small wooden box on the table.
The box clicked open — inside were bandages, ointments, and clean cloth.
Lianxiu blinked. "Shixiong—?"
"Hold still."
Xiuyuan's tone was calm, his movements steady as he cleaned the boy's wounds. His hands were cold at first touch, then warm — firm but gentle. The scent of the ointment rose between them.
Lianxiu didn't dare move. His heartbeat felt too loud in the small room. He'd never been this close to his Shixiong before — close enough to see the faint line between his brows, the quiet concentration in his eyes.
When Xiuyuan finished, he closed the box and said quietly,
"Why did you beat them?"
The question was sharp enough to break the stillness.
Lianxiu's jaw tightened. His eyes darkened. "Should've beaten those bastards harder."
Xiuyuan exhaled slowly. "Will you tell me or not?"
Lianxiu looked at him — then away, shoulders stiff. "I can't. And I won't."
"It's all right," Xiuyuan said, voice low. "Tell me."
"It'll hurt you, Shixiong."
"I've heard worse."
Lianxiu bit his lip, shaking his head. "No. It'll really, really hurt."
Xiuyuan's gaze didn't waver. "Why do you care?"
The words landed heavier than either expected.
Lianxiu opened his mouth — "Because—" — but the rest tangled on his tongue. He tilted his head away, cheeks red, and muttered, "Forget it. I won't tell."
Xiuyuan leaned back, his eyes cooling again. "Then you can go back now."
The quiet between them stretched. The warmth from the brazier flickered faintly.
Then Lianxiu sighed, frustrated. "Fine! They said something awful about you. Something they shouldn't have. Something—" he grimaced, "pervert— I can't even say it."
The word hung in the air.
Xiuyuan froze.
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to stop. His ears burned red; his mind went blank, too startled to process.
He didn't even hear Lianxiu continuing to grumble in the background — about how he'd beat them worse next time.
Lianxiu's voice quieted after all his rambling. For a long moment, only the soft crackle of the brazier filled the room. Then, he spoke again — gentler, almost sheepish.
"You know, Shixiong… last time, when you saved me from that wolf, I thought— next time, I'll protect you. I wanted you to see me as… a heroic junior."
He gave a weak, crooked smile, his eyes flickering down to the bandaged cuts on his hands.
"But look at me now." He laughed under his breath, embarrassed. "All you saw tonight was a fool who got beaten till his hair scattered and his robe torn. Instead of a hero, I've just made myself a clown in front of you."
"You did not."
Xiuyuan's reply came so quickly it startled even himself.
The words left his lips before he could think. Silence followed — heavy, startled, alive. Xiuyuan blinked once, realizing what he'd just said, and turned his face away.
Across from him, Lianxiu froze — and then his cheeks flared crimson, warmth spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. He bit his lip to hide the grin threatening to break out, staring down at the teacup in his hands as if it suddenly held the whole world.