The two of them drank their tea in silence.
Bai Qingxue lifted the white porcelain cup. The tea infusion was clear, emitting a thin wisp of steam.
Bai Qingxue took a sip and set it down.
The silver-white leaves of the old plum tree swayed gently in the wind. A few drifted down, landing on the stone table and in the tea cup.
Bai Qingxue looked at the leaf floating on the tea infusion and did not brush it away.
Lu Xueqing sat opposite her, holding her tea cup without drinking.
At this moment, she was looking at Bai Qingxue.
Bai Qingxue’s head was slightly lowered, revealing a stretch of fair skin at the back of her neck.
Her long, silver-white hair hung down from the sides of her ears, obscuring half of her face.
The ice-blue pendant around her neck slipped out from her collar, resting against her collarbone and shimmering in the twilight. The pendant was shaped like a water drop.
Lu Xueqing’s gaze fell upon that pendant and lingered for a moment.
This was something she had never seen before.
When Bai Qingxue left seven years ago, there had been nothing around her neck.
Lu Xueqing lowered her head, looking at the Jade Radiance Pendant at her own waist.
The green tassel was old, its color faded to white and its edges frayed, but the tassel was still there, and the jade pendant was still there.
The Jade Radiance Pendant was still tied to her waist in the exact same position as seven years ago.
Lu Xueqing reached out, her fingertips brushing against the tassel.
The frayed silk threads rubbed against her finger pads—coarse yet soft, much like every night of these seven years spent waiting for news that never came.
Her throat moved slightly.
“Junior Sister Bai.”
Bai Qingxue looked up.
Lu Xueqing opened her mouth. She wanted to ask: Did you ever think of sending news back while you were in Nanhuai? She wanted to ask: Who gave you that pendant? She wanted to ask: Have you, even once in the dead of night, ever thought of this courtyard?
Every question was blocked in her throat, crowded together so that none could escape.
Lu Xueqing lifted her tea cup and took a sip.
The tea had gone cold, bringing a wave of bitterness.
It tasted exactly like it did when they parted seven years ago.
Lu Xueqing set the 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, like something finally landing.
Lu Xueqing stood up.
She didn’t want to think.
She didn’t want to think anymore.
She had thought enough over these seven years.
Her body made a decision before her consciousness did.
Lu Xueqing walked around the stone table and stood before Bai Qingxue.
Bai Qingxue looked up at her.
Lu Xueqing’s face was reflected in those pale eyes—so close that Lu Xueqing could see the things hidden deep in her own gaze for too long: panic, longing, fear, and a touch of reckless desperation.
Lu Xueqing leaned down, her hands gripping the armrests on either side of Bai Qingxue’s chair, her knuckles tightening.
Her hair fell from the sides of her ears, a few stray strands landing on Bai Qingxue’s shoulder and tangling with the silver-white hair.
They were too close.
Close enough for Lu Xueqing to see the tiny frost pearls condensed on Bai Qingxue’s eyelashes.
Close enough to smell that faint scent of frost and snow mixed with the cold fragrance of the old plum tree.
The cold fragrance seeped from her collar and entered Lu Xueqing's nose, making her heart beat like a drum.
The slight airflow from Bai Qingxue’s breath brushed against Lu Xueqing’s cheek, bringing a hint of coolness, yet it could not freeze Lu Xueqing’s melting rationality.
However, looking at Lu Xueqing who was mere inches away...
Bai Qingxue did not dodge, did not turn her head, did not retreat, and did not reach out to push her away.
She simply sat there, face tilted up, looking at Lu Xueqing.
There was no panic in those pale eyes, no tension, and not even any surprise. There was only calmness.
That calmness made Lu Xueqing feel familiar, but also anxious.
Familiar because Bai Qingxue had always been this way.
Anxious because, even at this stage, she was still this way.
“Junior Sister Bai,” Lu Xueqing said. “In your seven years in Nanhuai, did you never think of sending word back?”
Bai Qingxue looked at her.
In those pale eyes, something moved slightly—a very light movement, like the shadow of a fish underwater, gone in a flash.
Bai Qingxue did not answer.
Lu Xueqing waited for one breath, two breaths, three breaths.
She did not receive an answer.
But she had waited too many times.
Waiting for Bai Qingxue to return from the cold pond, waiting for Bai Qingxue to return from the training ground, waiting for Bai Qingxue to return from the altar, waiting for Bai Qingxue to return from Nanhuai. After waiting for seven years, she didn't want to wait anymore.
She lowered her head and pressed her lips against Bai Qingxue’s forehead.
Like a leaf landing on ice.
In that moment, Lu Xueqing closed her eyes.
She felt Bai Qingxue’s body temperature; it was lower than a normal person’s, a cool sensation that spread through her lips, like holding a snowflake in her mouth in winter.
But that snowflake did not melt; it simply stayed there, between her lips and the skin, so cold that she trembled slightly.
Bai Qingxue’s breathing was very light and steady, just as usual.
But in that instant, her breath hitched for a beat—a beat so short that if one’s entire attention weren’t focused on that single point of contact, it would never have been noticed.
Lu Xueqing’s heart beat so fast it felt like it would leap out of her throat.
She was afraid Bai Qingxue would hear it.
Right now, her hands were braced on the armrests, her arms trembling slightly, causing the wooden armrests to let out a faint creak.
She lingered for a moment.
That moment was very long—long enough to relive every single night of those seven years spent waiting for news.
That moment was also very short—short enough that before she could experience more, she realized it had to end.
Lu Xueqing lifted her head and opened her eyes.
Bai Qingxue was still looking at her. In those pale eyes, something was different. Lu Xueqing couldn't put her finger on what it was.
“Junior Sister Bai, aren't you going to dodge?” Lu Xueqing’s voice was a bit hoarse, as if she had been holding it in for a long time, the end of her sentence rising slightly.
“Why should I?”
Bai Qingxue’s voice was flat, the same as always, but the indefinable look in her eyes betrayed her.
Hearing this, Lu Xueqing’s fingers tightened on the armrests, her nails digging deeper into the wood grain than before.
Her breathing grew heavier, her chest heaving in a strange contrast to Bai Qingxue’s steady breath. She lowered her head, looking into Bai Qingxue’s eyes.
That face was too close to her.
Close enough that the thought she had suppressed for seven years could no longer be held back.
“Because what I want to do... is more than just this.”
Lu Xueqing’s voice was softer than she had anticipated.
So soft it was like a probe, yet also like a confession.
But the moment the words left her mouth, Lu Xueqing knew that she and her junior sister could never go back to how they were.
No—from the moment she had committed that shameful act while her junior sister was unconscious, they could never go back.
The leaves of the old plum tree rustled in the wind.
One leaf drifted onto Bai Qingxue’s shoulder, its silver-white surface pressed against her frost-white robe, the two almost indistinguishable.
Moonlight filtered through the branches, falling on Bai Qingxue’s face and making her pale pupils appear almost transparent.
Her expression was the same as before, unreadable. But her lips moved slightly, as if she were holding something on the tip of her tongue before swallowing it back down.
Lu Xueqing held her breath, hands braced on the armrests; at this moment, she did not dare move.
Afraid that a single movement would make her miss something.
Afraid that a single movement would cause the door that had just cracked open to slam shut completely.
Bai Qingxue lowered her eyes.
There was a long silence.
So long that Lu Xueqing thought time had stopped, so long that her arms began to ache.
Then, Bai Qingxue looked up into Lu Xueqing’s eyes.
“Then do it.”
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