When the flying boat passed through the final layer of clouds, Xueji Peak appeared in Bai Qingxue’s field of vision.
The body of Xueji Peak was entirely snow-white, covered in thick ice and snow from the base to the mountainside. Above the mountainside, it was hidden in the clouds and mist, with only the upturned eaves of a few halls visible when the wind occasionally dispersed the clouds.
It was exactly the same as seven years ago.
Bai Qingxue stood by the porthole, watching the familiar mountain peak draw closer.
The morning light fell upon her silver-white hair, making the fine strands appear almost transparent.
The ice-blue pendant around her neck swayed gently with the slight rocking of the flying boat, casting a cold glint on the glass of the porthole.
The flying boat landed outside the mountain gate.
As Bai Qingxue stepped out of the cabin, the peak-guarding disciple was dozing at the gate.
Hearing the movement, she jerked her head up and froze for a moment upon seeing Bai Qingxue.
The disciple opened her mouth as if to say something, then swallowed the words back down.
Her gaze lingered for a moment on Bai Qingxue’s silver-white hair, then on the pendant around her neck, and finally on that cold face—the same as seven years ago, yet somehow different.
“...Martial Aunt Bai?” the disciple asked cautiously.
Bai Qingxue nodded.
The peak-guarding disciple hurriedly stood up and cupped her hands in greeting, her movements somewhat flustered, nearly knocking over the teapot on the desk. “I did not know you were returning to the mountain today, Martial Aunt. Please forgive me for not welcoming you.”
Bai Qingxue did not mind the formalities. She simply gave a slight nod and stepped through the mountain gate.
The stone steps were long.
The morning mist had not yet dissipated, drifting from the foot of the mountain all the way to the summit, veiling the distant peaks in a hazy blur.
Dewdrops clung to the withered branches on both sides of the stone steps, occasionally brushed by her robe and falling in a rustle of coolness.
Bai Qingxue did not walk fast.
Her boots clicked softly against the bluestone slabs, the sound echoing along the empty mountain path.
She didn't consciously try to feel anything, but with every step, memories surfaced on their own.
Seven years ago, she walked this path to go to Nanhuai.
Now, she was walking this path, returning from Nanhuai.
The road was the same road, the direction was reversed, and the person had not changed.
But Bai Qingxue knew that something was different. She couldn't put her finger on it; she only felt that the stone steps were slightly narrower than in her memory, the withered trees on both sides slightly shorter, and even the wind slightly lighter.
Perhaps she had stayed in Nanhuai for too long, long enough to forget the scent of the wind on Xueji Peak.
Or perhaps not.
Bai Qingxue’s courtyard was located toward the east on the mountainside. The walls were low, and the branches of an old plum tree peeked over the top, covered in silver-white leaves that swayed gently in the morning breeze.
Bai Qingxue pushed open the door.
Everything in the courtyard was the same as seven years ago. The stone table and stools were in their old positions. A long, thin crack ran from the edge to the center of the tabletop, exactly as she remembered.
On the stone table sat a pot of tea, prepared by someone in advance.
A thin wisp of steam rose from the spout of the teapot, curling away into the morning mist.
Bai Qingxue sat down by the stone table, picked up the teapot, and poured a cup of tea.
The tea infusion poured from the spout, tracing a pale gold arc through the air before landing at the bottom of the cup with a tiny splash.
She lifted it and took a sip.
The tea was warm, just right for drinking.
There was neither too much nor too little tea leaf, the water temperature was controlled perfectly, and the steeping time was neither too long nor too short.
Every sip was at exactly the temperature Bai Qingxue was accustomed to, and every sip was at exactly the strength she was accustomed to.
Exactly the same as seven years ago.
Bai Qingxue held the tea cup, looking at the stone stool opposite her.
Someone used to sit in that spot, brewing a pot of tea every evening and waiting for her return.
Bai Qingxue withdrew her gaze and took another sip of tea.
The silver-white leaves of the old plum tree rustled in the wind, and a few drifted down, landing on the stone table and in her tea cup.
She used the cup lid to gently push them aside, finished the last sip of tea, and set the cup down.
Footsteps came from the courtyard gate.
Bai Qingxue looked up.
Lu Xueqing stood at the entrance of the courtyard.
She wore a frost-white Daoist robe, a long sword hanging at her waist, and her hair was loosely pinned up with a wooden hairpin.
Her face hadn't changed much from seven years ago, though her brow held a bit more composure, and there were a few more traces of time in her eyes.
But at her waist, she still wore that Jade Radiance Pendant.
The green tassel had grown old, its color fading to white and its edges fraying.
But the tassel was still there, the jade pendant was still there, tied to her waist in the exact same position as seven years ago.
Lu Xueqing looked at Bai Qingxue, her gaze sliding from her eyes to her jaw, then from her jaw to the ice-blue pendant around her neck, where it lingered for a moment.
Then she withdrew her gaze, and the corners of her mouth curved slightly.
That smile was very faint, as if it had taken seven years to gather enough strength to form.
“You’re back?” Lu Xueqing asked, her tone as casual as it had been in the past.
Bai Qingxue looked at her and nodded.
“Mhm.”
Lu Xueqing stood at the courtyard gate, not coming inside.
Her fingers rested on the doorframe, her fingertips lightly rubbing against the wood grain, once and then again, exactly like the way she used to rub the rim of a cup.
Bai Qingxue lowered her head, looking at the pot of tea on the stone table that was still emitting steam.
She suddenly remembered something.
On the day she left seven years ago, Lu Xueqing had said, “When you come back, we’ll still be like this, right?”
At the time, Bai Qingxue hadn't answered.
Now she sat here, under the old plum tree, by the stone table, holding a white porcelain cup and drinking warm tea.
Lu Xueqing stood at the courtyard gate, wearing that Jade Radiance Pendant; the green tassel was old, but it hadn't been replaced.
Everything was the same as seven years ago.
Bai Qingxue picked up the teapot, poured a cup of tea, and placed it on the empty spot across from her.
Then she looked up at Lu Xueqing.
“The tea is getting cold.”
Lu Xueqing’s fingers paused on the doorframe.
Then she walked in, sat down opposite her, picked up the cup of tea, and took a sip.
The tea was warm, just right for drinking.
She simply sat there, holding the tea cup, looking at Bai Qingxue with that very, very faint curve at the corners of her mouth.
The silver-white leaves of the old plum tree rustled in the wind, a few drifting onto the stone table, into the tea cups, and into the air between the two of them.
Bai Qingxue lifted her own tea cup and took another sip.
The tea was still warm.
Just like seven years ago.
...But also a little different.
She couldn't say what was different.
Perhaps it was just her imagination.
Bai Qingxue set the tea cup down; the bottom of the cup met the stone table with a soft click.
That soft click was exceptionally clear in the quiet courtyard, as if it were speaking on someone's behalf.
Outside the courtyard gate, several passing Xueji Peak disciples poked their heads in to peek, whispering amongst themselves upon seeing Bai Qingxue.
“Is that Martial Aunt Bai? She seems so cold...”
“I heard she stayed in Nanhuai for seven years, guarding the ancient ruins.”
“The pendant around her neck is so beautiful. Is it a treasure from Nanhuai?”
“I don't know... stop asking, let's go, let's go.”
The footsteps gradually faded into the distance.
Silence returned to the courtyard.
Bai Qingxue looked up, watching the silver-white leaves of the old plum tree fall one by one.
They fell on the stone table, into the tea cups, and onto Lu Xueqing’s shoulder.
Lu Xueqing did not brush them away.
She simply sat there, holding her tea cup, looking at Bai Qingxue.
Just like seven years ago.
Just like every other day.
Rate on N.U.
