Night Conversation by the Cold Pond

After returning from the Old Records Room that day, Bai Qingxue sat in the quiet room for a long time.

She did not circulate her cultivation; she simply closed her eyes and listened to the rustling leaves of the old plum tree outside the window.

That crossed-out name sank into the depths of her consciousness, as if it had never existed.

For the next two days, life went on as usual.

The cold pond in the morning, the quiet room in the afternoon, and drinking tea under the old plum tree in the evening.

Ning Qinghan would occasionally sit opposite her, holding her coarse ceramic cup and chatting with her. Sometimes, Bai Qingxue inexplicably felt that Ning Qinghan was like a little bird perched under the eaves—chirping away, yet not at all annoying.

Listening to it for a while made the courtyard feel less empty.

During this time, however, Lu Xueqing never visited Bai Qingxue's courtyard.

Having never received a call from Lu Xueqing, and knowing her senior sister's stubborn, unyielding nature, Bai Qingxue could guess what was happening.

She set down her teacup and stood up.

Ning Qinghan sat opposite her, holding her coarse ceramic cup, and glanced up at her.

“Going out?”

“Yes.”

Bai Qingxue walked down the stone steps and knocked on Lu Xueqing's courtyard gate.

There was no response for a long time; she likely wasn't there.

After a moment of thought, Bai Qingxue had her answer.

...

The surface of the cold pond shimmered with a silver-white light under the moon.

Mist rose from the water, drifting slowly in the night breeze.

Bai Qingxue walked along the path and spotted a figure by the edge of the pond.

Lu Xueqing was sitting on a boulder beside the cold pond, her bare feet submerged in the water.

She wore no outer robe, only a thin set of sleeping clothes that clung to her body, damp from the moisture. Her long hair was loose, draping over her shoulders with a few strands trailing in the water.

The moonlight bathed her, wrapping her entire being in a cold, silver-white glow.

She kept her head lowered, staring at her own reflection in the water.

At the sound of footsteps, her shoulders tensed suddenly, as if she had been struck.

Yet, Lu Xueqing deliberately chose not to look back.

Seeing this, Bai Qingxue walked over and sat down on the boulder beside her.

The stone was cold, carrying the damp chill unique to the cold pond's mist.

Bai Qingxue did not break the silence. She simply sat there, watching the moonlit water.

The two of them remained silent for a long time.

Mist drifted between them, cool and damp, clinging to their eyelashes and condensing into tiny droplets of dew.

Lu Xueqing's breathing was heavy, as if she were suppressing something, or perhaps waiting for something.

“How did you know I was here?” Lu Xueqing finally spoke.

“You weren't in your courtyard,” Bai Qingxue said. “And you weren't on a mission. Where else could you go?”

Lu Xueqing fell silent for a moment.

Her lips parted slightly, as if she were hesitating over her next words.

“Maybe I just didn't want to see you,” Lu Xueqing said, her voice still carrying a hint of petulance.

But she immediately regretted it. Why had she said that? Was this really her? Why did she always lose her tongue whenever she was with Junior Sister Bai?

Bai Qingxue did not reply.

She stared at the moon reflected in the water for a moment, then said, “Then you can leave now.”

Of course, Lu Xueqing did not leave.

She sat there with her bare feet submerged in the icy water, her toes curling slightly.

Her fingers scraped against the stone surface again and again. As her nails dragged across the rough rock, a faint, persistent scratching sound began to disturb the quiet of the cold pond.

“Junior Sister Bai,” Lu Xueqing called out.

“Yes.”

“I can't break through.”

Lu Xueqing's voice was very soft, as if she were speaking of something she had repeated to herself countless times but had never shared with anyone else.

Indeed, she had been stuck at the peak of the early Foundation Establishment stage for a long time.

A very, very long time.

So long that she could not remember how many methods she had tried.

Changing her cultivation methods, her pills, her cultivation grounds—none of it worked.

The barrier remained completely immovable, like an invisible wall blocking her in place.

“Every day I wonder,” Lu Xueqing's voice dropped to a murmur, as if she were talking to herself, “if my talent is simply lacking. If this is as far as I can go.”

Bai Qingxue did not speak, listening quietly.

Moonlight fell upon Lu Xueqing's profile, painting her eyelashes silver.

Her rosy lips trembled slightly.

“And then I think...” Lu Xueqing paused. “If you go too far, and I can't catch up... what then?”

After saying this, Lu Xueqing turned her head away.

Bai Qingxue looked at her.

But Lu Xueqing did not look back. Her gaze was fixed on the shattered reflection of the moon in the water.

Her eyes grew red, but she held herself back, trying not to let her tears fall.

Yet a thin layer of moisture was already welling up, on the verge of spilling over.

“Every time you go out on a mission,” Lu Xueqing's voice squeezed out of her throat, each word sounding as heavy as a rolling stone, “I'm terrified you won't come back.”

“Every time you face danger, I can't protect you.”

“How can someone like me... stay by your side?”

Lu Xueqing gripped the edge of the boulder, her fingernails digging into the rough texture of the stone.

As those last words left her lips, her tears finally fell.

Although she did not sob aloud, her shoulders shook violently as she desperately turned her face away, refusing to let Bai Qingxue see.

Bai Qingxue watched her.

She watched the person who was desperately hiding her face, trying to conceal her tears.

“I always felt that the reason I could stand by your side was because I am your senior sister. That gave me the right to look after you, to brew tea for you, to hug you when you won a match.” Her voice trembled, but she did not stop.

“But what if you don't need my care anymore? What if you don't need me to brew tea for you? What if you don't need... me at all?”

Lu Xueqing's fingers slipped from the edge of the stone, hanging limply at her side.

She lowered her head, staring at her feet submerged in the pond.

The water was so cold that her toes had gone numb, leaving her unable to feel the chill.

Lu Xueqing felt just like her feet—soaked in cold water for too long, past the point of feeling the cold.

“If that's really how it is... what should I do?” Lu Xueqing murmured softly, though she seemed to be asking herself more than Bai Qingxue.

Bai Qingxue remained silent.

Her fingers curled slightly, as if she wanted to grasp something but didn't know what to hold.

Lu Xueqing's tears dampened the fabric of Bai Qingxue's shoulder. The damp patch slowly grew cold in the night breeze, the chill seeping into her skin and making her feel a tightness in her chest.

Bai Qingxue did not know how to respond.

She had never known how to answer such words.

Perhaps Bai Qingxue had long known what Lu Xueqing was waiting for.

Waiting for her to say “I won't,” to say “I won't leave you behind,” to say some word that would make all of this go away.

But... she could not say it.

Because she wasn't sure either.

She wasn't sure if she could truly promise that.

She wasn't sure what the future would hold.

She did not want to lie to Lu Xueqing.

Silence stretched between them.

The mist drifted past, cool and thin, like a hand drawing a line between them.

Lu Xueqing's breathing was heavy, so heavy that Bai Qingxue could feel the rise and fall of her shoulders.

And at this moment, that trembling rise and fall was waiting for Bai Qingxue's answer.

Finally, Bai Qingxue spoke.

“Senior Sister.”

“You aren't standing by my side just because you are my senior sister.”

Hearing this, Lu Xueqing's fingers twitched slightly.

“Whether you want to stand by me or protect me...”

Bai Qingxue said softly, “...none of those things are because you are my senior sister. It is because you are you.”

Lu Xueqing turned her head to look at her.

Her tears were still wet on her face, unswept.

A light trembled in her reddened eyes, as if on the verge of shattering, yet held up by something gentle.

“But I want to walk with you, to keep walking together,” Lu Xueqing said, her voice catching.

This was a truth she had kept buried for so long, never once putting it into words.

A truth she had not even dared to admit to herself.

Now, she had finally spoken it aloud.

Looking at the red-eyed woman before her, a trace of emotion finally cracked Bai Qingxue's usually cold expression.

“I know,” Bai Qingxue said.

Then she looked away, back to the moon in the water.

“But you cannot forget how to walk your own path just because you want to walk with me.”

Lu Xueqing froze.

“Your inability to break through is not due to a lack of talent,” Bai Qingxue said. Her tone carried a rare warmth, reminiscent of how Lu Xueqing usually spoke.

“It is because you have placed too much of your focus on me. You aren't cultivating for yourself. You are doing it to catch up to me, to keep from being left behind, to... remain by my side.”

She paused.

“But have you ever thought that if you continue like this, you will never catch up to me?”

The words fell upon the cold pond silently, yet they carried the weight of a massive boulder.

Lu Xueqing's lips parted as if to speak, but she swallowed the words back down.

Her tears flowed even faster.

She knew Bai Qingxue was right.

Every day, she went to Bai Qingxue's courtyard, brewed tea, and waited for her return.

When Bai Qingxue was away, she would sit under the old plum tree in a daze, wondering what she was doing, if she was hurt, and when she would return.

Her mind was never truly on her cultivation.

She cultivated solely to stand beside Bai Qingxue, not for herself.

Before today, she had never fully realized this.

Or rather, she had sensed it but dared not admit it.

“You are afraid,” Bai Qingxue said.

Lu Xueqing looked at her.

“Afraid that I will go too far, afraid that I won't return, afraid that you won't catch up.” Bai Qingxue paused. “But fear changes nothing.”

Lu Xueqing's eyelashes trembled.

“If I must go far, I will,” Bai Qingxue said, her voice soft but absolute.

“If I am to return, I will. Whether you can catch up has nothing to do with any of that. If you can't catch up, I am still me. If you do, I am still me. How far I go and how fast you walk are two entirely different things.”

“I don't mean that I want you to distance yourself from me,” Bai Qingxue said, her voice softening further as she looked at Lu Xueqing.

“I only hope... that you will take care of yourself first, and find your own path. And then, walk with me. Okay?”

Lu Xueqing's breath hitched.

She stared at Bai Qingxue's profile.

Under the moonlight, there was an expression on that cold face that she had never seen before.

Warmth? No, not just warmth.

It was more like solemnity.

The kind of earnest solemnity that only appeared when speaking of something of utmost importance.

Lu Xueqing suddenly recalled the first time she had met Bai Qingxue, many years ago.

Back then, Bai Qingxue was just a newly admitted junior sister, quiet and aloof, rarely speaking.

She had helped Bai Qingxue out of a tight spot in the market, and Bai Qingxue had said, “Thank you, Senior Sister.”

At the time, she had thought this little junior sister was quite interesting.

She had never imagined that one day she would be sitting by the cold pond, weeping as she asked her, “What if you don't need me anymore?”

Why... had things turned out this way?

As she thought of this, Lu Xueqing suddenly felt everything around them grow quiet, as if even the wind had tactfully bypassed their little corner.

Inexplicably, Lu Xueqing leaned in.

She rested her forehead against Bai Qingxue's shoulder. With that gentle touch, her long hair cascaded down like a waterfall, instantly shielding them from the outside world.

The dark strands fell like an impenetrable curtain, veiling their faces and hiding all their unspoken secrets.

Time seemed to stretch infinitely in that moment.

Lu Xueqing did not speak. She simply leaned there quietly with her eyes closed.

Her breath was soft, puffing gently against Bai Qingxue's skin through the thin fabric, sending a faint, barely perceptible shiver through her.

In this tiny world of black and white formed by their interwoven hair, nothing remained but their warmth and breath.

Bai Qingxue could feel Lu Xueqing's breathing grow shallower and quicker.

The dark hair that had been hanging still seemed to come alive, gently brushing against the side of Bai Qingxue's neck.

In this moment, not even the moonlight could see what was happening beneath that veil of dark hair.

“Junior Sister Bai.”

“Yes.”

“What if I remain like this anyway?”

Bai Qingxue looked down at the head resting on her shoulder. The cascading hair hid Lu Xueqing's face, leaving only a small, flushed curve of her ear visible.

“You won't,” Bai Qingxue said.

“How do you know?”

“Because you do not want to remain standing in place,” Bai Qingxue paused.

“Not to catch up to me, but because you yourself want to move forward.”

Lu Xueqing fell silent for a long time.

So long that the mist drifted between them cycle after cycle, so long that the moon in the pond shifted from east to west.

“What about you?” she asked, her voice slightly raspy. “Junior Sister Bai, do you also want to move forward?”

Bai Qingxue did not answer immediately.

“Yes.” A trace of loneliness flickered in Bai Qingxue's eyes.

In that instant, Lu Xueqing reached out and took Bai Qingxue's hand hanging at her side.

Bai Qingxue's hand was cold, and Lu Xueqing's was too.

Two hands that had been cold for too long clasped together; neither was warmer than the other, yet at this moment, it felt just right.

“Junior Sister Bai.”

“Yes.”

“I will break through.”

Bai Qingxue did not speak.

She simply turned her hand over, palm up, weaving her fingers through Lu Xueqing's and slowly tightening her grip.

Their fingers intertwined.

Moonlight fell upon their joined hands. Looking down at them, Lu Xueqing spoke.

“Not to catch up to you.”

“But for myself.”

Bai Qingxue's fingertips brushed gently against the back of her hand.

“Yes.”

The moon emerged from behind the clouds, casting a fragmented, silver-white glow over the cold pond.

The mist flowed gently between them, no longer resembling a vast sea, but rather a small stream.

The two of them sat side by side by the cold pond, fingers locked, neither uttering a word.

The wind blew past, carrying the damp scent of water and vegetation, slipping coolly down their collars.

Lu Xueqing squeezed Bai Qingxue's hand a little tighter.

The surface of the cold pond shimmered with silver-white light under the moon as ripples spread from the center, washing against the shore and gently ebbing back.

Under the moonlight, the two shadows seemed to draw even closer together.