It was nearly dark by the time Bai Qingxue was brought back to Xueji Peak.
Ye Qingyao carried her up the final stretch of the bluestone steps. By then, the wound on Ye Qingyao’s shoulder had clearly reopened; blood had seeped through the fabric, staining her pale green martial attire a dark, mottled red.
Lu Xueqing followed behind, offering several times to take over, but Ye Qingyao refused every time.
When the peak-guarding senior sister saw the state of the three, her expression shifted. she straightened up instantly and opened her mouth to ask what happened, but seeing Bai Qingxue’s dire condition, she swallowed her words and immediately allowed the three to enter.
...
Inside Bai Qingxue’s quiet room, the bedding on the stone bed had already been prepared.
Lu Xueqing carefully took Bai Qingxue from Ye Qingyao’s back, moving as if any extra force might shatter her.
As Lu Xueqing laid her down, Bai Qingxue’s hand slipped from her shoulder and hung over the edge of the bed. Her fingers were ice-cold, and a thin layer of white frost had condensed on her knuckles, looking like the icicles that clung to withered branches in winter.
Ye Qingyao stood by the bed, unsure of what to do.
She looked at Bai Qingxue’s face, then at her own blood-stained hands, and pulled them back into her sleeves, clenching them into fists.
Once Bai Qingxue was settled on the stone bed, Lu Xueqing stood there for only a moment before turning to leave.
She knew that what Bai Qingxue needed right now was not for her to stand guard by her side.
Her presence was useless here; the issues Bai Qingxue was facing were not something a cultivator at the eighth level of Qi Refining could handle.
She needed to go to the main hall to find Liu Ningshuang.
Ye Qingyao was left alone in the quiet room.
She stood by the bed, her hands finding no comfortable place to rest.
Bai Qingxue’s eyes were closed, and her face was so pale it almost blended into the frost-colored bedding on her pillow. Only the faint bite mark on her lip—so light it was nearly invisible—reminded anyone that this face had once held the color of life.
Her silver-white hair was scattered across the pillow, with a few strands trailing over the edge of the bed, shimmering coldly in the twilight filtering through the window.
Ye Qingyao slowly crouched down until she was at eye level with Bai Qingxue.
It had been a long time since she had looked at Bai Qingxue from such a close distance.
In the past, she hadn't dared to look for fear of being discovered; later, she hadn't dared to look for fear that she would never be able to look away.
Now that Bai Qingxue’s eyes were closed, she could finally look.
But with those eyes shut, she would have preferred Bai Qingxue to be awake, cold, or even to ignore her—as long as she opened her eyes.
Ye Qingyao reached out, wanting to touch Bai Qingxue’s face, but her fingertips hovered over the bridge of Bai Qingxue’s nose for a long time without descending.
Suddenly, Ye Qingyao knelt by the bed and buried her face in her arms, her shoulders beginning to tremble.
“Sister Bai...” Ye Qingyao’s voice was muffled by her sleeves, very soft, as if she were afraid of waking her. “You said you were watching. I’ve practiced my sword for half a year, and you said you were watching. If you’re looking at the sword, you can't help but look at me too. Won’t you open your eyes and look at me?”
Bai Qingxue did not respond.
The quiet room was silent, save for the rustling of the leaves of the old plum tree outside the window, stirred by the wind.
Ye Qingyao lifted her face from her arms and looked at Bai Qingxue’s hand.
That hand hung at the side of the bed, the thin frost on her knuckles still unthawed, white as if carved from ice.
She cradled that hand and pressed it against her own cheek.
A chill spread from the palm, like pressing one’s face against a frosted window in winter.
Ye Qingyao did not pull away. She closed her eyes and felt the cold, as if by doing so she could share some of the frigidity for Bai Qingxue.
She remembered the words Bai Qingxue had said to her, the look in her eyes when she seriously watched her brandish her sword, and her saying, “I am watching.”
Those moments were too brief—so brief that every time she recalled them, she was afraid to blink, fearing she would lose even a fraction of a second.
She had thought she still had plenty of time to slowly draw closer, to slowly let Bai Qingxue return to the way things were between them.
But now that Bai Qingxue lay here, Ye Qingyao realized that time was not as generous as she had assumed.
Ye Qingyao gently placed Bai Qingxue’s hand back by the bed and used her fingers to tuck the stray hairs from Bai Qingxue’s forehead behind her ear.
Her movements were very slow, as if she were afraid of hurting her.
Her fingertips touched Bai Qingxue’s ear, which was incomparably cold.
She remembered how she hadn't even dared to look at Bai Qingxue before, yet now she could sit quietly by her side and tuck her hair.
She should have been happy, but at this moment, no joy could take root in her heart.
The sound of footsteps came from outside the courtyard.
Ye Qingyao did not look up; she knew Lu Xueqing had returned.
Lu Xueqing pushed open the door, followed by Liu Ningshuang.
Without any pleasantries, Liu Ningshuang walked to the bedside and reached out to take Bai Qingxue’s pulse.
As Liu Ningshuang’s power probed the meridians, her brow furrowed slightly before returning to normal.
Seeing this, Ye Qingyao stood up and retreated to the wall, holding her breath.
Liu Ningshuang withdrew her hand. As if prepared, she took a small porcelain bottle from her sleeve, poured out a pale green pill, and fed it to Bai Qingxue. She then used her spiritual power to dissolve the medicine and guide it toward the dantian.
“Her life is not in danger,” Liu Ningshuang said as she stood up. “However, her body has sustained some damage and requires a period of quiet recuperation. Do not disturb her for the next few days; let her recover on her own.”
Liu Ningshuang did not say much more. She simply walked to the door, paused, and said, “Have her come to the main hall once she wakes.” Then, she departed.
Ye Qingyao stood by the wall, watching Liu Ningshuang’s back disappear at the courtyard gate.
Then, she leaned against the wall and slowly slid down to sit on the floor.
As long as she’s okay.
As long as she’s okay.
Ye Qingyao repeated these words in her mind over and over. By the third time, the tears finally escaped her eyes.
But she made no sound, merely wiping them away haphazardly with the back of her hand to clear the mist from her vision.
Ye Qingyao stood up and walked to the bed, looking down at Bai Qingxue.
Bai Qingxue’s face was still pale, but the faint mark on her lip seemed to have faded slightly. Ye Qingyao stared at that mark for a long time, until light footsteps sounded behind her.
Lu Xueqing walked in carrying a bowl of freshly warmed medicine and stopped at the door.
She did not speak immediately, merely looking at Ye Qingyao’s back and waiting quietly for a moment.
“Junior Sister Ye,” Lu Xueqing said softly, her tone gentle. “I’ll take over here. You’ve been keeping watch for a long time.”
Ye Qingyao did not look back.
She knew Lu Xueqing was right.
She was not a member of Xueji Peak and could not stay here forever. Ye Qingyao knew she had to leave.
Yet her feet felt as if they had taken root, refusing to move.
“I will let you know when Junior Sister Bai wakes,” Lu Xueqing added. She placed the medicine bowl on the small table by the bed and stepped back, giving Ye Qingyao a final moment of space.
Ye Qingyao slowly crouched down to be at eye level with Bai Qingxue once more.
She reached out, her fingertips hovering above Bai Qingxue’s cheek without touching. She was afraid of the cold skin, afraid that the bit of strength she had managed to gather to turn away would instantly vanish.
She pulled her fingers back and felt for the scabbard of her short sword within her sleeve.
An old green cord was wrapped around the scabbard. It had been tied there since the day she had switched to this new scabbard, and Ye Qingyao had never replaced it.
Ye Qingyao untied the green cord, wound it around her fingers, and then gently tied it around Bai Qingxue’s wrist.
It was only a very small, light knot.
But Ye Qingyao’s movements were incredibly slow.
As if by tying it slower, the parting could be delayed just a little longer...
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