By the time Bai Qingxue returned from the Luoyun Mountain Range, it was nearly noon.
She then submitted her mission at the Affairs Hall, handing over three stalks of Ice Spirit Flowers and one Ice Crystal Python monster core. After the deacon performed an inventory check, he made a mark on her waist token: two hundred and seventy contribution points.
“Is there anything you wish to exchange for?” the deacon asked.
“Three Ice Condensation Pills and two Spirit Gathering Pills,” Bai Qingxue replied.
The deacon glanced at her but didn't ask further. He pulled several porcelain bottles from the cabinet behind him and pushed them across the counter.
After verifying the contents, Bai Qingxue placed them into her storage bag and turned to leave the Affairs Hall.
When she returned to her courtyard, the withered branches of the old plum tree were swaying gently in the wind.
Bai Qingxue pushed open the door to her quiet room and placed the pills on the table. She didn't rush to take them; instead, she sat down before a bronze mirror.
The person in the mirror had cold features and pale eyes, her complexion a few shades whiter than it had been months ago.
She reached out and picked up a strand of hair draped over her shoulder, bringing it close to her eyes to inspect it.
As expected, there were a few more strands of white hair at her temples than when she had broken through to the sixth level. It wasn't obvious without a careful look, but they were definitely there.
Bai Qingxue parted the hair at the top of her head and saw several silver-white roots emerging from the black hair, like the first snowfall of early winter settling on the ground.
She watched for a moment before letting her hand fall.
She didn't particularly like white hair.
It wasn't because it looked bad; it was simply that the white hair always reminded her of her previous life.
In that life, he had been barely in his early twenties when he developed many white hairs from working overtime and staying up late. Back then, he would often pull them out while looking in the mirror, but they would just grow back, so he eventually stopped caring.
To Bai Qingxue, white hair seemed to symbolize fatigue and depletion, as if the body were telling him, “You can't hold on anymore.”
Actually, his previous life hadn't been that miserable, but he didn't like that feeling of being slowly drained away...
Even though Bai Qingxue knew this was different.
The white hair now was a trace of the Ice Spirit power, the price for her growth in strength. Yet, looking at those few silver strands, she still thought of the past.
That cramped workstation, the code on the screen, the gray sky outside the window.
That feeling of dislike welled up from the depths of her heart once more.
Bai Qingxue pulled her thoughts back and stopped looking.
White hair was just white hair; as long as it didn't affect her cultivation, it was fine.
She then stood up, took off her outer robe, and changed into a dry set of Daoist robes. After putting the pills into her storage bag, she left the courtyard and walked toward the cold pond on the back mountain.
The water of the cold pond remained freezing year-round, shrouded in mist.
Bai Qingxue walked along the path to the edge of the pond. Just as she was about to undress and enter the water, she noticed someone sitting on the opposite bank.
Lu Xueqing.
Lu Xueqing wore a frost-white Daoist robe, her legs crossed and her hands resting on her knees as if she were regulating her breath.
Hearing footsteps, she opened her eyes. Seeing Bai Qingxue, she froze for a moment.
“Junior Sister Bai,” she called out. Her tone was casual, but her gaze lingered on Bai Qingxue for a moment—more specifically, on Bai Qingxue’s hair.
Bai Qingxue nodded without saying much and reached out to untie the sash of her outer robe.
Lu Xueqing’s gaze followed that hand for a split second before she abruptly looked away, focusing on the mist across the water.
At that moment, she suddenly felt her ears burning slightly, though her expression remained unchanged—at least, she hoped it did.
The sound of the outer robe falling was very soft, but the slight rustle of fabric was exceptionally clear in the silence of the cold pond.
Lu Xueqing lowered her eyes and stared at her fingertips. Her heart skipped a beat, but she forced it back down.
Bai Qingxue stepped into the pond, the freezing water rising past her waist.
She sat cross-legged, leaving only her head and shoulders above the surface. She closed her eyes and began her exercise.
Spiritual power flowed slowly through her meridians as the cold surged from all directions, merging with the Mystic Frost spiritual power within her body.
She quickly entered a meditative state, her perception of the outside world becoming blurred.
Only then did Lu Xueqing slowly lift her head.
Sitting on the bank, she finally dared to let her gaze fall on Bai Qingxue. The moment of panic from earlier had been tucked away neatly, leaving no visible trace.
Only she knew that her heart had not yet fully calmed.
Lu Xueqing took a deep breath, letting the lingering agitation dissipate into the mist. Then, she looked at Bai Qingxue again.
Bai Qingxue’s profile was sharp and cold. Droplets of condensed mist clung to her eyelashes, and her breathing was steady; she had already entered a deep trance.
Lu Xueqing’s gaze followed her temple downward, landing on her soaked hair.
The black strands clung to the side of her face, making her complexion appear even paler. And then she saw the white hair.
She had seen the few strands at the temples last time. But today, it seemed... there were more than just those. Lu Xueqing leaned forward slightly, her gaze moving upward to see several silver strands emerging from the roots at the top of Bai Qingxue’s head, mixed in with the black. They were almost impossible to notice without a close look.
There were more than last time.
Lu Xueqing wanted to speak.
She wanted to ask if her junior sister was feeling unwell. To ask if the white hair meant something had gone wrong with her cultivation. To ask if she should go see Elder Liu.
She even wanted to walk over and brush away those wet strands to see exactly how many white ones there were.
But she opened her mouth and then closed it again.
Why ask so much?
She was the senior sister; it was only natural to care for her junior sister.
But where was the boundary of this “natural” care? It was normal for an ordinary senior sister to notice a few white hairs on her junior sister, right?
But if she were truly just an ordinary senior sister, would she sit on the bank watching for so long, her heart in turmoil, yet unable to say a single word?
Lu Xueqing lowered her eyes, looking at the reflection in the pond. The mist churned, and the reflection was blurry; she couldn't see anything clearly.
She suddenly felt a bit annoyed with herself. Annoyed at what? Annoyed that she cared too much, cared in a way a senior sister shouldn't for a junior sister. She couldn't even say what she was afraid of.
Was she afraid Bai Qingxue would find her annoying? Afraid Bai Qingxue would see through her? Or was she afraid that by asking, she would receive an answer that would leave her even more distressed?
“What is Senior Sister looking at?”
Bai Qingxue’s voice suddenly rang out. Lu Xueqing snapped her head up. Bai Qingxue had opened her eyes at some point and was watching her. Those pale eyes looked exceptionally clear in the mist, as if they were looking at something, yet looking at nothing at all.
Lu Xueqing’s heart skipped a beat. She quickly looked away, her throat moving.
“...The water,” she said. Her voice was a bit lower than usual. She could hear it herself, but Bai Qingxue probably couldn't.
“Mhm,” Bai Qingxue hummed in response, her tone flat, as if she were acknowledging something perfectly ordinary. She didn't press further, nor did she show any sign of doubt. She simply gave a slight nod and closed her eyes again.
Lu Xueqing was stunned.
She had expected Bai Qingxue to ask “What about the water?” or “What’s so good about looking at the water?” She had even prepared a more clumsy explanation.
But Bai Qingxue asked nothing.
That “mhm” was very light, as if it had slipped naturally from her throat without any extra meaning, curiosity, or suspicion. It didn't even count as an act of “acceptance.”
Because Bai Qingxue didn't seem to have ever thought about “accepting” anything. She simply heard it, acknowledged it, and that was all.
Lu Xueqing suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable.
It wasn't because she had been seen through. What was it then?
If she really had to say, it was probably because of that forthrightness...
Bai Qingxue had candidly believed the lie she had casually spun, candidly hummed in response, and candidly closed her eyes. It was as if nothing in this world was worth questioning, as if she believed whatever others said, as if... she didn't think anyone would ever lie to her.
Or perhaps, she didn't care if people lied to her.
Lu Xueqing lowered her eyes. The panic in her heart had dissipated at some point, replaced by something lighter, softer, and indefinable.
Like a feather landing on the surface of the water—it didn't sink, nor did it float away; it just drifted there, rippling slightly.
Lu Xueqing stole a glance at Bai Qingxue.
That face was already very calm. Mist condensed on her eyelashes, and her breathing was long and even; she was in a meditative state again.
Lu Xueqing opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but she didn't know what. She suddenly felt that this person, Bai Qingxue, was truly...
Truly what? she couldn't say.
She just felt that when she was with this person, she didn't have to think about anything or pretend to be anything.
Even if they were just sitting by the cold pond, watching her cultivate, listening to the sound of the water, and letting the mist dampen her robes, it seemed quite nice.
When this thought surfaced, Lu Xueqing herself was taken aback.
Then she took a deep breath and swallowed that half-formed sentiment. She swallowed it in a hurry, as if afraid it would sprout into something even more scandalous.
She then stood up and brushed the dust from her robes. A patch of her hem had been soaked by the mist, and it wouldn't dry no matter how much she brushed it, so she stopped bothering.
“I’m leaving,” Lu Xueqing said, her tone casual.
Bai Qingxue nodded. No attempt to make her stay, no further questions.
Lu Xueqing turned and walked back along the path. Her pace was neither fast nor slow, but her steps were somewhat forceful, as if she were competing with someone.
Only after she had left the vicinity of the cold pond did she slow down and look back.
In the mist, Bai Qingxue’s figure had become blurred, leaving only a faint outline sitting upright in the pond, motionless.
Lu Xueqing withdrew her gaze and continued walking back.
The wind of Xueji Peak poured down from the mountain path, blowing cold against Lu Xueqing’s face.
The chill seeped into her skin and traveled up her meridians, yet it washed away some of the chaotic thoughts in her spiritual altar.
‘Finally, I can think clearly.’
But what was she thinking about so clearly?
It was still those white hairs.
At the temples, at the top of her head, clinging wetly to her ears. There were more than last time.
Lu Xueqing gripped her sleeves.
“Are you alright?”
These words had rolled across her tongue countless times, so much so that they were almost worn smooth.
Every time she saw Bai Qingxue, they almost burst out, only to be forced back down every time. When she swallowed them, her throat would tighten, like swallowing a pill that hadn't dissolved, stuck there, neither up nor down.
What was she afraid of? Afraid Bai Qingxue would find her strange, afraid her concern had crossed a line, afraid that the feelings she had hidden for so long would leak out of her tone and be seen through at a glance.
She suddenly felt a bit annoyed with herself. What was wrong with asking a question? Didn't they agree she would go back to being the senior sister of Xueji Peak?
For a senior sister to care about her junior sister—wasn't that only natural?
But she simply couldn't ask, because she knew better than anyone that her concern had never been just that of a senior sister for a junior sister.
Precisely because it wasn't just that, she didn't dare say a single extra word.
She was afraid that if she said too much, she wouldn't be able to hide it anymore.
She knew herself too well.
The mountain path turned a corner, and the cold pond was completely lost from view.
Lu Xueqing stopped in the middle of the road, the wind whipping her robes. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill her lungs and the chill spread from her chest to her limbs.
Then she began to push those thoughts down one by one.
Pushing them to the deepest part of her heart.
She knew they would surface again. The next time she saw Bai Qingxue, the time after that, and the time after that. Every single time. All she could do was push them back down every time they reared their heads.
She opened her eyes.
As long as she is okay.
She said these words to herself in her heart, very softly, like a promise. As long as she is okay. As for whether she herself was okay, that was another matter entirely.
Then she opened her eyes and continued walking forward.
...
Bai Qingxue cultivated in the cold pond for several more hours.
When she opened her eyes, twilight was creeping over the mountain ridge, dyeing the mist a faint grayish-blue.
She rose from the pond, water droplets sliding down the folds of her robes and dripping onto the stone steps, freezing into tiny ice beads before they could even flow. Each one was round and translucent, shimmering with a faint cold light in the twilight.
She then shook out her robes, threw on her outer robe, and wound the sash twice around her fingers, tying a simple knot.
By the time she returned to the courtyard, the withered branches of the old plum tree were swaying gently in the twilight, like a person slowly waving goodbye.
It was darker inside than out. She pulled out a fire striker and lit the lamp.
The wick was very short, and the flame was only the size of a bean, casting a dim yellow glow over the surroundings.
Bai Qingxue then set the Cold Iron Stone by her knee and sat cross-legged on the stone bed. She took out the two Spirit Gathering Pills from her storage bag and placed them before her.
She didn't rush to take them.
Instead, she closed her eyes and regulated her breath for a moment.
Then, Bai Qingxue sank her consciousness into her body, feeling the residual chill in her meridians.
Most of the cold from the pond had already been refined during her previous cultivation; the scattered remnants were spread throughout her limbs like crushed ice floating on water, slowly melting as her spiritual power flowed.
As for the matter of the white hair, she didn't look at it again.
The bronze mirror had been turned over and laid flat on the table, its back facing up, no longer reflecting the woman before it.
If she didn't look, she wouldn't think about it—that was what Bai Qingxue always told herself.
In her previous life, she had cared, she had pulled them out, and in the end, hadn't she stopped bothering? There was even less need to care in this life.
White hair didn't affect her cultivation, didn't affect her sword strikes, and didn't affect her becoming stronger... Why should she care?
She understood all these reasons.
Yet her hand remained by the edge of the bronze mirror, not pulling away.
She suddenly thought of a question.
A question she hadn't thought about for a long time.
Did her previous life still count as existing for her?
Those memories were still there. The lights of the office building, the late-night convenience store, the leaking faucet in the shared apartment. They occasionally surfaced in her mind, as clear as if they had happened yesterday.
But those people and events, that world—he could never go back. That salaryman named “Bai Qingxue” had probably long been registered as a missing person and had his residency canceled. His workstation was occupied by someone new, and the small room that belonged to him was likely gone too.
That world no longer had a place for him.
What about this world?
Xueji Peak, the cold pond, Liu Ningshuang, Lu Xueqing, Ye Qingyao, the Bai family.
She cultivated here, broke through here, and lived here day after day.
But her heart never seemed to truly settle. Like a leaf floating on the water, it didn't sink, nor did it take root; it just drifted.
She felt detached from everything here.
It was like staying as a guest in someone else’s home; everything was fine, the bed was clean, the food was delicious, and the hosts were kind.
But she knew it wasn't her home. She could leave at any time, or stay at any time.
There were no attachments, no reason that made staying “absolutely necessary.”
So, where did she belong?
Bai Qingxue lowered her eyes and withdrew her hand from the edge of the mirror.
She picked up a Spirit Gathering Pill, put it in her mouth, and closed her eyes.
Immediately, a sense of fullness, bit by bit, transmitted from her dantian.
But that feeling was faint, like pouring water into a massive vat; every drop was negligible, even though the water level was indeed rising.
The effect of Spirit Gathering Pills on the current Bai Qingxue was nothing more than a drop in the bucket, but many drops made an ocean—it was better than doing nothing...
Outside the window, moonlight essence spilled in through the panes.
And Bai Qingxue sat with her eyes closed, her eyelashes motionless, like an ice carving, or perhaps an ice crystal flower blooming silently in the night.
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