For several days in a row, Lu Xueqing did not visit.
Bai Qingxue continued her cultivation as usual. She went to the cold pond in the early morning, meditated in her quiet room in the afternoon, and practiced her swordplay in the courtyard at dusk.
Her days were the same as before—quiet, disciplined, and undisturbed.
She didn't feel as if anything was missing.
On the fifth day, while on her way to the cold pond, she saw a figure standing at the corner of the stone steps from a distance. The person wore a frost-white Daoist robe with a sword hanging at her waist. It was Lu Xueqing.
However, as soon as the figure spotted Bai Qingxue, she seemed startled. She turned around and walked away quickly, without even looking back.
Bai Qingxue watched the disappearing back, paused for a moment, and then continued toward the cold pond.
She’s probably busy with something...
Bai Qingxue sat cross-legged in the cold pond and closed her eyes. A crystal of ice as thin as a cicada's wing appeared in her palm. Releasing her spiritual power, the ice crystal spun slowly in her hand; its edges were so thin they were transparent, yet it remained intact. She tried to make the crystal larger, growing it from the size of a copper coin to the size of her palm. It was thin but hard, shimmering with a cold light amidst the mist.
Ice formed wherever her intent directed; she had achieved complete control.
On another day, after Bai Qingxue finished collecting her pills from the Affairs Hall, she encountered Lu Xueqing again on the stone steps.
This time, they were face-to-face, less than ten paces apart—there was no time to avoid each other.
Lu Xueqing stopped. Her gaze lingered on Bai Qingxue’s face for a moment before she smiled naturally. “Junior Sister, are you here to collect your pills?”
“Mm.” Bai Qingxue nodded.
“Then I’ll be going first. I have things to do.” Lu Xueqing stepped aside to let her pass and walked down the steps very quickly, as if she truly had some urgent business.
Bai Qingxue watched her back and suddenly felt that something wasn't quite right.
She thought about it for a moment, but since she couldn't understand it, she stopped thinking about it.
She turned to walk up the mountain, returned to her courtyard, and continued her cultivation.
Inside a side hall.
Liu Ningshuang sat at a desk flipping through a register. Lu Xueqing stood to the side, holding a mission dossier, waiting for it to be sealed. Liu Ningshuang took the dossier, scanned it, and signed her name at the end.
“What’s been going on with you lately?” Liu Ningshuang asked suddenly.
Lu Xueqing was startled. “What?”
“You’re distracted.” Liu Ningshuang looked up, her gaze wandering over her. “Just now, when you handed over the dossier, your spiritual power was in disarray.”
Lu Xueqing opened her mouth to say something but swallowed it back down. She lowered her eyes and stared at the tips of her boots. “Reporting to the Perfected One, it may be because I’ve been too tired from cultivation lately.”
Liu Ningshuang looked at Lu Xueqing for a moment but did not press further. She simply handed the dossier back.
“Make sure to rest.”
“Yes.” Lu Xueqing took the dossier and turned to leave. After a few steps, she suddenly felt that the gaze behind her was still watching her, and her pace unconsciously quickened.
Only after leaving the side hall did she breathe a sigh of relief.
Leaning against a corridor pillar, she looked down at the dossier in her hand, unable to read a single word. The way Elder Liu looked at her was as if she knew something. But what could she know? She didn't even know herself.
Lu Xueqing closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“I’m the senior sister. It’s only right to care for my junior sister,” she whispered.
Even she didn't believe those words. Would someone who cared for their junior sister avoid her? Would someone who cared for their junior sister lie awake at night, tossing and turning while thinking about a person's profile? Would someone who cared for their junior sister stand outside her courtyard for fifteen minutes, not daring to knock?
Last night, she had stood outside Bai Qingxue’s courtyard.
The moonlight had been beautiful, and the branches of the old plum tree in the courtyard had reached over the wall, swaying gently in the wind. The lamp in the quiet room was lit; Bai Qingxue was likely cultivating. She had stood outside the gate and raised her hand to knock, but her hand stopped in mid-air before she lowered it again. She stood there for a long time before finally turning to leave.
On the way back, she had scolded herself the entire time.
“You’re crazy,” she muttered to herself.
“I’m crazy,” she repeated.
But when she woke up the next morning, the first thing that surfaced in her mind was still Bai Qingxue’s profile.
Lu Xueqing opened her eyes and looked at the dossier in her hand. She suppressed those messy thoughts and started walking toward her own courtyard.
I can’t go on like this.
She had to cultivate. Her junior sister was cultivating; she couldn't fall behind.
She returned to her courtyard, closed the door, drew her sword, and practiced a set of sword techniques. The sword light was sharp, each strike carrying the wind, swirling up the remaining withered leaves in the courtyard and slicing them to pieces. She practiced for a long time, until her arms were sore and numb and fine sweat broke out on her forehead, before she finally stopped.
She sheathed her sword, leaned against the wall, and looked up at the grey-blue sky.
She could still think of that face.
She sighed, hung her sword on the wall, entered the quiet room, and sat cross-legged on her cot.
Quiet down.
She told herself.
Quiet down.
Rate on N.U.
