By dawn, the frost had already crept back over the courtyard tiles, and the air was sharp enough to sting the lungs. Disciples were bustling about again — carrying buckets, sweeping snow, calling out greetings that misted white in the cold.
Shen Lianxiu yawned so wide his jaw cracked.
He'd barely slept a wink. Every time he closed his eyes, the same scene played back — moonlight, the stream, Xiuyuan's calm eyes, and his own voice saying Its youI like out loud
Roulan, walking beside him, glanced over. "What's wrong with you this morning? Didn't you sleep?"
"I did! I mean— not really— I mean, maybe," Lianxiu mumbled.
Nie Xiaohuan, carrying his sword neatly on his shoulder, shot him a flat look. "You're blushing even before breakfast. What did you do?"
"Nothing!" Lianxiu said quickly, tripping over his own boots. "Absolutely nothing suspicious or embarrassing or— ahahaha—"
Roulan arched an eyebrow. "Suspicious or embarrassing?"
"Neither!"
Later, at the morning drills, Lianxiu tried his best to act normal.Unfortunately, that meant he was extra loud and extra clumsy.
When he sparred, he missed half his footing. When he saluted, he saluted the wrong direction. When Master Yue Lan passed by, he bowed twice in panic and nearly dropped his sword on his own foot.
"Shen Lianxiu," Zhou Qingrong said, not even sighing anymore, "perhaps your body's here, but your soul's off chasing something else."
"Yes, Shixiong! I mean, no, Shixiong! I mean— thank you, Shixiong!" Lianxiu stammered.
Roulan covered her face. Xiaohuan turned away before he sighed.
From the upper walkway, Ling Xiuyuan watched in silence.
He looked calm — maybe even indifferent — but his hand, which rested lightly on the wooden railing, curled ever so slightly.
He hadn't spoken to Lianxiu since that night by the stream. He hadn't even meant to see him this morning, but when he caught sight of the boy tumbling through his drills, hair sticking out in every direction, eyes bright and alive despite everything—
he'd found himself stopping.
That confession… Xiuyuan still didn't know what to make of it.
It wasn't that he didn't take it seriously. He did. But he couldn't understand it — the way Lianxiu looked at him, the reckless honesty of it, the warmth it left behind like a faint mark he couldn't shake.
"Shixiong," Wei Jingyan's voice came from behind him, breaking his thoughts. "You're watching him again."
Xiuyuan turned slightly, expression as blank as ever. "I'm observing his form."
"Mm," Jingyan said, smirking. "He's been staring at you the entire time he's missing his footing."
Xiuyuan didn't reply. He simply turned away, his calm composure unwavering — but his ears had gone faintly red.
When the morning training ended, Lianxiu stumbled over to the side, panting, his hair sticking to his forehead. Roulan handed him a towel with a scolding look. "You're hopeless, you know that?"
"I'm just… tired!" he said, still smiling despite the exhaustion. "But you know, Roulan, when Shixiong Ling looked at me earlier, I felt like I could run five more laps!"
Xiaohuan gave him a long, flat stare. "He looked at you because you nearly tripped over your sword."
Lianxiu paused. Then grinned anyway. "A look's a look!"
Roulan threw the towel at his face.
And somewhere above, on the walkway bathed in winter sun, Xiuyuan glanced down one last time at the laughing boy below him — the same boy who had once confessed under moonlight, trembling and sincere.
He turned away before anyone could see his faint smile.
...
Chapter — The Celebration of New Disciples
The great hall of Jingshou Sect shimmered in gold and lanternlight. Fragrant smoke coiled from bronze braziers, and the polished floor gleamed beneath the light of hundreds of floating candles. From the long tables came bursts of laughter, the clinking of cups, and the rustle of silks as disciples toasted one another, celebrating the arrival of a new generation.
At the head of the hall sat Sect Leader Su Zhenyuan, his expression serene yet warm. His presence alone could silence a crowd — dignified yet alive with humor, a man whose words always carried weight. When he rose, the entire hall stilled at once.
"Everyone," he began, voice smooth and resonant, "tonight we welcome not just new disciples, but new hearts — new dreams, and new hopes for the mountain."He paused, smiling faintly. "When I was your age, I could barely sit through the first lesson without dozing off. And now look at me — stuck giving speeches instead."
Laughter rippled through the hall, breaking the formal air.
Su Zhenyuan raised his cup toward the gathered masters and disciples. "To all who have walked the path before, and to those who begin it tonight — may your swords stay sharp, your hearts stay kind, and your spirits unbroken. Jingshou Sect will always stand as long as you remember that strength is built not on pride, but unity."
"Cheers!" echoed through the hall as everyone raised their cups high. The wine was sweet, the music began again, and the celebration truly came alive.
Later in the evening, Shen Lianxiu, Nie Xiaohuan, and Roulan sat together near the edge of the hall, where a stream of musicians played gentle strings and flutes. Lianxiu was halfway through his third rice cake, humming along with the rhythm, while Xiaohuan sipped tea with calm disapproval.
Roulan, however, wasn't paying attention to either of them. Her eyes were fixed — wide, unblinking — on one of the musicians near the stage.
The woman was tall, dressed in pale blue silk that shimmered like water. Her fingers glided across the strings of her qin, her posture composed, her expression cool and unreadable. The candlelight caught on her hairpin — a silver phoenix — and for a moment, even the music around seemed to fade, replaced only by the sound of Roulan's heart hammering in her chest.
"Roulan?" Lianxiu whispered, waving his hand in front of her face. "Hello? Still alive?"
"She's beautiful," Roulan murmured under her breath, eyes still fixed.
Lianxiu grinned. "Wow, you're blushing! Didn't know our Roulan could fall for someone that quick—"
Roulan turned, glaring. "Say another word, Shen Lianxiu, and I'll throw you into the pond."
Lianxiu held up both hands in surrender, laughing quietly. "Alright, alright, I'll shut up. But admit it, she's really pretty."
Roulan's cheeks deepened in color. "I don't need your confirmation."
Even Xiaohuan cracked a small smile. "At least someone here is finally speechless for once."
Lianxiu made a face. "Hey, that's supposed to be my line!"
The three of them dissolved into laughter. Around them, the hall was alive with music, lanterns swaying in the breeze from the open doors. Sect Leader Su Zhenyuan, now seated with the masters, was laughing heartily with Pei Yunsheng and Mu Yichuan over some story from years past. A few disciples sat nearby, smiling faintly but listening with polite restraint.
And among them, quietly watching from the corner of the hall, Ling Xiuyuan sat still — his face calm, his robe simple, his cup untouched. The golden light glowed over his features, making them seem almost ethereal.
Lianxiu's laughter faltered for a moment when his gaze landed there.Something about the sight — Xiuyuan's calmness amid all the chaos — made his heart beat faster.
Roulan nudged him. "What's wrong?"
He blinked, smiling again. "Nothing."
But his gaze lingered just a little longer — on that one figure sitting apart from the noise — until the next song began, and the moment dissolved into the warmth of the night.
Roulan sat transfixed near the front row, her cup untouched. On the low dais, a female musician played the qin — each note slow and liquid, like water spilling over glass. Her gaze was calm, her beauty sharp yet distant, and when her eyes lifted briefly, they landed — again and again — on Roulan.
It was enough to make Roulan forget how to breathe.
She didn't even notice Lianxiu and Xiaohuan whispering beside her."Hey, she's looking this way," Lianxiu murmured with a grin.Roulan didn't respond."Roulan," Xiaohuan said, half amused, "if you stare harder, you'll scare her."Roulan snapped out of it only to glare. "I am not staring!""Oh no, of course not," Lianxiu said, clearly trying not to laugh. "You're just… admiring her soul."
Roulan turned bright red. "Shen Lianxiu!"
The musician's song ended just then, and she stood with a graceful bow. Her long sleeves fell like flowing mist; the hall erupted in applause. Roulan clapped too, though a bit late — her eyes still on the woman as she stepped off the dais and slipped toward the courtyard.
Without a word, Roulan rose and followed.
The corridors were quieter outside, lit by a few drifting lanterns. The musician had paused near a column, adjusting the silk around her qin when a voice called softly behind her,"Wait—! Um… excuse me!"
She turned.
Roulan stood a few paces away, the wind brushing strands of her hair across her face. "I— I just wanted to ask," she stammered, "your name."
The woman smiled faintly. "My name is Yunhe."
Roulan repeated it under her breath — "Yunhe…" — as if the sound itself were music.
Yunhe tilted her head slightly. "And you are?""Roulan."
Roulan stood there, smiling to herself like someone who had just learned how to dream.
Inside the hall, the music had grown livelier. Lianxiu had slipped away from the table, wandering through the crowd with a skewer of candied fruit in hand. He wanted to enjoy the sight of everyone celebrating — masters chatting, disciples laughing, the lanterns drifting upward like stars set free.
That was when he saw Ling Xiuyuan.
Surrounded by several senior disciples, Xiuyuan sat with quiet dignity — or tried to. Each time someone toasted him, he raised his cup with polite grace, though a faint color had bloomed on his cheeks. His composure never fully broke, but there was a softness in his eyes, the faint sway of someone trying very hard to pretend they weren't tipsy.
Lianxiu frowned. He looks… drunk?
When Xiuyuan finally excused himself and stepped out of the hall, Lianxiu followed a few paces behind, concern tightening his chest. The corridors outside were dim, the sound of laughter fading behind them.
"Shixiong!" he called softly.
Xiuyuan turned slightly, steady but slower than usual. "Why are you following me?" His tone was calm, though his voice carried a faint slur — barely noticeable unless one knew him well.
Lianxiu jogged closer just in time to see him stumble, his foot catching on the edge of the step. Instinctively, Lianxiu caught him by the arm, holding him upright.
"Shixiong!"
Xiuyuan blinked, clearly embarrassed. "Release me. I need to go back."
"No," Lianxiu said firmly, still holding on. "You've been drinking since the second toast. Just lie down for a while. The celebration won't fall apart without you."
He gently guided Xiuyuan into one of the nearby guest rooms, helping him sit down on the bed. The sound of music and laughter still filtered faintly through the windows, but Lianxiu shut the door, softening the noise to a distant hum.
Xiuyuan leaned back against the pillow, eyes half-lidded, his composure melting into quiet exhaustion.
"You're not my attendant, Shen Lianxiu," he murmured.
Lianxiu smiled faintly. "Maybe not. But I can at least make sure you don't fall on your face before the night ends."
Xiuyuan gave a small sigh — but didn't protest.Outside, the lanterns flickered against the windowpane.Inside, the two sat quietly — one resting, the other watching over him — as the celebration roared on without them.