Early the next morning, Bai Qingxue arrived at the rest area early to close her eyes and regulate her breathing.
The surrounding disciples were talking in low voices in groups of two or three. Some were nervous, while others closed their eyes and prayed silently.
Bai Qingxue thought of nothing. Spiritual power flowed slowly through her meridians, gradually adjusting her physical state to its peak.
At this moment, Bai Qingxue sat in a corner, slightly away from the crowd. Her frost-white Daoist robe almost blended in with the morning mist.
Occasionally, someone would walk past her, and their gaze would involuntarily linger on her for a moment longer before they hurried away.
It wasn't out of offense; it was simply because Bai Qingxue’s face was so captivating that it was hard to look away, yet so cold that one didn't dare to look for long.
Bai Qingxue was completely oblivious to this—or rather, she didn't care at all.
The morning mist was thin, and the outlines of the stages in the distance were still somewhat blurred.
The wind blew from the mountains, carrying the scent of vegetation and dew. It was chilly as it poured into her collar, but Bai Qingxue did not move.
A sudden sound of footsteps approached. The pace was neither fast nor slow, carrying a touch of casual laziness.
The footsteps stopped beside Bai Qingxue.
But Bai Qingxue still did not open her eyes.
The person stood there for a few breaths, seemingly confirming something, before sitting down next to Bai Qingxue. The movement was composed, as if they had planned to sit there all along.
“Junior Sister, you didn't turn your waist enough when you retracted your sword yesterday.”
The person’s voice was lazy, yet the words were enunciated clearly.
Hearing this, Bai Qingxue opened her eyes and turned her head to look.
It was Su Zhaoyan.
At this moment, Su Zhaoyan sat beside Bai Qingxue with her legs crossed. One hand rested on her knee, while the other was casually draped over the armrest.
She wasn't wearing the Chixia Peak Daoist robe; she was still dressed in red, appearing like a mass of quietly burning flames amidst the sea of frost-white and charcoal-grey disciple uniforms.
The morning light fell on her face. Her phoenix eyes were half-squinted, and the corners of her mouth held a trace of a smile, as if she didn't care about anything, yet saw everything.
“But your retraction was fast enough; you just barely managed to hit a vital spot,” Su Zhaoyan added, though it was unclear if it was meant as a compliment.
Bai Qingxue looked at Su Zhaoyan but did not respond.
Su Zhaoyan didn't mind.
She turned her head, her gaze falling on the distant stages, seemingly leaving a gap for Bai Qingxue to ask a question.
She waited for a while, but that gap was never filled.
Because Bai Qingxue had no intention of following up at all.
The corners of Su Zhaoyan’s mouth curved slightly as she withdrew her gaze and looked at Bai Qingxue again. There was a hint of testing in that glance, as if she had thought of something interesting.
“Junior Sister, aren't you curious about who I am?”
“I know,” Bai Qingxue said.
Su Zhaoyan raised her eyebrows slightly, the smile on her face deepening. “You know?”
“Chixia Peak, Su Zhaoyan.”
Su Zhaoyan looked at Bai Qingxue, was quiet for a moment, and then laughed.
“Lu Xueqing told you, didn't she?” Su Zhaoyan leaned back, her body sinking into the chair. Her gaze moved away from Bai Qingxue’s face and settled on the stages being prepared in the distance, as if she were looking at something not worth seeing, or thinking about something not worth considering.
“Then aren't you curious why I came to find you?” Su Zhaoyan’s voice was a bit lower than before.
Bai Qingxue did not open her eyes. “I am not.”
The corners of Su Zhaoyan’s mouth curved, but she didn't speak again.
She simply sat there, her finger tapping the armrest of the wooden chair every now and then, making a faint, rhythmic sound, as if she were waiting for someone.
The wind blew from the stage area, carrying the morning chill and causing her red clothes to flutter slightly.
The rest area gradually became more crowded, but the small space between the two of them seemed to be separated by something, remaining strangely quiet.
Bai Qingxue closed her eyes again, and her spiritual power continued to circulate.
After all, what did Su Zhaoyan’s coming or going, staying or leaving, have to do with her?
Su Zhaoyan watched Bai Qingxue’s profile for several breaths.
The morning light fell on that cold face. Her eyelashes were motionless, and her breathing was as steady as the water of a deep pool—no wind, no waves, nothing at all.
Su Zhaoyan suddenly felt that this junior sister was more interesting than she had imagined. Such interesting people were rare.
Suddenly, another set of footsteps rang out. These footsteps were much more hurried and carried a clear sense of direction, as if someone had deliberately quickened their pace while intentionally suppressing their breathing.
Lu Xueqing quickly emerged from the crowd.
Her gaze first fell on Bai Qingxue, pausing for a moment to confirm she was alright before turning toward the red figure beside her.
Her footsteps stopped a pace away from Bai Qingxue—not too close, not too far, just enough for her to see Su Zhaoyan’s face clearly.
“Su Zhaoyan,” Lu Xueqing’s voice wasn't loud, but it was somewhat cold.
Su Zhaoyan didn't turn around, responding lazily, “Mm.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Sitting.” Su Zhaoyan turned her head to look at Lu Xueqing, a hint of a smile on her lips. “Is it written somewhere that the seats for Xueji Peak can't be used?”
Lu Xueqing did not respond.
She walked to the other side of Bai Qingxue and sat down, her movement so natural it seemed as if she were just casually taking a seat.
But the spot she chose was very close to Bai Qingxue—so close that if Su Zhaoyan wanted to speak to Bai Qingxue again, her line of sight would be blocked.
The three of them sat side by side now, with Lu Xueqing in the middle.
Su Zhaoyan saw Lu Xueqing sit down but said nothing. She simply changed her posture, leaning against the back of the chair, her gaze returning to the distant stages.
Her finger didn't stop, continuing to tap the armrest. The rhythm didn't break; if anything, it was slower than before, as if her mood had improved.
A long silence followed.
“What are you so nervous about?” Su Zhaoyan suddenly spoke. Her voice wasn't loud, sounding like she was talking to herself, yet also like she was asking a question.
As soon as these words were spoken, Lu Xueqing’s shoulders tensed.
Faced with this inexplicable question, Lu Xueqing did not answer. Her gaze was fixed ahead, but for some reason, she couldn't take anything in. Then, her fingers gripped her sleeves tightly before letting go.
Lu Xueqing didn't want Bai Qingxue to notice anything, though Bai Qingxue likely didn't care at all.
Bai Qingxue never opened her eyes.
She heard the conversation between the two people beside her, but she didn't take it to heart. After all, she was here for the competition, not to chat, nor to watch Lu Xueqing and Su Zhaoyan speak in riddles.
Su Zhaoyan looked at Bai Qingxue’s profile for a few breaths before standing up.
“I'm off. Junior Sister, I'll come find you again next time.” Su Zhaoyan stood up, her tone casual, like she was greeting an old acquaintance.
She didn't wait for Bai Qingxue’s response and simply turned to leave.
After a couple of steps, she suddenly stopped and looked back at Bai Qingxue.
Bai Qingxue’s eyes remained closed, her breathing steady and her expression as calm as ever. Su Zhaoyan smiled and withdrew her gaze.
As she passed by Lu Xueqing, Su Zhaoyan didn't stop, but her eyes fell on Lu Xueqing’s face for a moment. That look contained a bit of a smile, along with something else.
It was as if she had seen through everything, yet said nothing.
Lu Xueqing turned her face away, unwilling to look at her.
Su Zhaoyan left, her red clothes quickly disappearing into the crowd.
The rest area fell silent.
Lu Xueqing sat beside Bai Qingxue without moving.
She turned her head to look at Bai Qingxue’s profile. Her eyelashes were very long, casting a faint shadow under her eyes as they drooped.
Bai Qingxue knew nothing and cared about nothing.
Those words and those looks all hit a wall when they reached her, then scattered.
But Lu Xueqing cared.
She shouldn't care.
She was just the senior sister, and Bai Qingxue was just the junior sister.
What did it have to do with her who came to talk to Bai Qingxue?
And yet, Lu Xueqing cared.
Her gaze always fell on Bai Qingxue first—checking if there was an extra person beside her, checking if she was frowning, checking if she was still sitting there quietly...
“Junior Sister,” Lu Xueqing spoke, her voice softer than usual.
Bai Qingxue didn't open her eyes. “Mm?”
“What did Su Zhaoyan just say to you?”
Bai Qingxue thought for a moment. “She said I didn't turn my waist enough when I retracted my sword yesterday.”
Lu Xueqing was silent for a moment. “She certainly has a lot of free time.”
After saying it, she felt the remark was pointless.
Whether she had free time or not, what did it have to do with her?
But she had said it anyway, as if she had to say something to push that phrase “What are you so nervous about?” out of her mind.
Bai Qingxue didn't respond.
Lu Xueqing didn't speak again either. Her gaze fell on the distant stages, but she couldn't take anything in.
People were warming up by the stages, and others were walking up; those images passed before her eyes, but she didn't retain a single one.
The phrase that kept looping in her mind was still Su Zhaoyan’s words.
“What are you so nervous about?”
Lu Xueqing didn't want to admit she was nervous.
But the look Su Zhaoyan had given her was as if she knew everything.
The morning mist dissipated unnoticed. The sunlight fell on the stone slabs, bright and white, somewhat dazzling.
The deacon’s voice came from afar, calling out the names for the next round.
The second day’s matches were about to begin.
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