That night, Bai Qingxue took both a Foundation Establishment Pill and a Meridian Protection Pill, and attempted Foundation Establishment in the cold pond.
Everything went smoothly in the first half of the night. The Ice Spirit power condensed in her dantian, and the embryonic form of her Dao foundation had already appeared.
Just as the Dao foundation was about to fully form, a crack suddenly appeared from within.
The Ice Spirit power surged wildly from the crack, no longer obeying her commands, but instead, like a breached flood, it tore through her meridians.
Bai Qingxue experienced true “collapse” for the first time; the cultivation she had painstakingly built for over two years disintegrated in an instant.
Bai Qingxue collapsed by the cold pond, beads of blood oozing from her skin, staining her frost-white robe a shocking red.
Bai Qingxue’s cultivation plummeted from the ninth level of Qi Refining, shattering layer by layer, like ice cracking beneath her feet, leaving her nowhere to stand.
The eighth, seventh, sixth levels of Qi Refining... she fell all the way to the first level of Qi Refining, and then, there was nothing left.
Her dantian was empty, and no spiritual power flowed through her meridians. She had become a mortal.
A cripple whose meridians were shattered inch by inch, worse than an ordinary person.
...
When she awoke, Bai Qingxue was already lying on the stone bed in the quiet room.
Lu Xueqing sat by the bed, her eyes dark with exhaustion, clearly having watched over her all night.
Ye Qingyao stood at the doorway, holding a bowl of medicinal soup that was warm, but her fingers were trembling.
Liu Ningshuang had come. After examining her meridians, she remained silent for a long time before finally saying, “Your meridians are severely damaged; recovery will take time. Your cultivation... may not be restored.”
Bai Qingxue understood what “may not” meant. It meant almost impossible.
No one dared to tell her directly, “You will never be able to cultivate again in this life,” but Bai Qingxue knew it herself.
Because she could no longer feel spiritual power. That sensation of it slowly flowing from her dantian, filling her limbs and bones, had vanished.
It was like a lamp inside her body had gone out.
She thought she would collapse, cry bitterly, and question why fate had treated her this way.
But she didn't.
She simply lay there, staring at the ceiling beams, her heart frighteningly quiet.
‘Let it be.’
Bai Qingxue suddenly realized she didn't crave life as much as she thought she did.
Everything she had done since transmigrating until now.
Breaking off the engagement, joining Xueji Peak, cultivating day and night, desperately breaking through.
Rather than "wanting to live," it was more like "not wanting to die too miserably."
She had no reason she must live, no one she wanted to protect, no dreams she wanted to fulfill.
She was merely pushed forward by inertia, like a programmed machine, and now, the machine had broken down.
But Bai Qingxue suddenly felt liberated.
It wasn't the relief of "no longer needing to strive," but rather the emptiness of "finally no longer having to pretend I desperately want to live."
A complete, clean, utterly empty void.
She no longer needed to rise early for the cold pond, no longer had to worry about the Ice Spirit power’s backlash, and no longer had to think about Shen Yuan, Ye Feng, or the Xuanyin Demonic Sect.
She simply needed to lie here, breathe, eat, and sleep.
Like a true, ordinary person with no expectations.
Lu Xueqing was the first to notice Bai Qingxue’s change.
It wasn't just physical; Bai Qingxue’s body was certainly deteriorating. She grew thinner and weaker, becoming breathless even after taking a few steps.
There were also changes in her behavior.
Bai Qingxue no longer cultivated.
This wasn't an issue, as she no longer had any spiritual power to cultivate with.
But she also ceased all “active” behaviors.
She didn't read books, practice swordplay, brew tea, or tidy her room.
She simply sat under the old plum tree, from sunrise to sunset, doing nothing, thinking nothing.
She wasn't depressed, nor was she sad.
She was just... gone.
Her body was still there, her consciousness was still there, but the person named “Bai Qingxue” seemed to have left this body.
Lu Xueqing tried many methods.
She came every day, bringing different teas and snacks, talking to Bai Qingxue about the trivial matters of Xueji Peak, about whom Elder Liu had scolded, and about Shen Yao breaking through to the seventh level of Qi Refining.
Bai Qingxue listened, occasionally humming in acknowledgment, but there was nothing in her pale eyes, as if she were watching Lu Xueqing from a great distance, or perhaps not watching anything at all.
Ye Qingyao also came.
Unlike Lu Xueqing’s cautious approach, Ye Qingyao’s method was to cling to Bai Qingxue.
After getting permission from Liu Ningshuang, she moved into Bai Qingxue’s courtyard.
She didn't ask Bai Qingxue for permission; she simply brought over her bedroll, spread it out in the empty room next to the quiet room, and then, as if nothing had happened, began to care for Bai Qingxue’s daily needs.
She combed Bai Qingxue’s hair.
Her silver-white long hair had turned completely white, without a single dark strand, spreading over Bai Qingxue’s shoulders like winter snow on withered branches.
Ye Qingyao’s fingers ran through the white hair, smoothing it strand by strand, her movements very gentle, as if she were handling something fragile.
She fed Bai Qingxue medicine.
Bai Qingxue’s right-hand meridians were the most severely damaged, preventing her from holding a bowl.
So Ye Qingyao fed her spoon by spoon, cooling each spoonful before bringing it to Bai Qingxue’s lips.
Bai Qingxue neither refused nor cooperated; she simply opened her mouth, swallowed, and then closed it.
Ye Qingyao bathed Bai Qingxue.
Lu Xueqing couldn't do this, because she was afraid that seeing Bai Qingxue’s bare skin would make her lose control and do something irreversible.
But Ye Qingyao wasn't afraid.
She removed Bai Qingxue’s robe and, with a warm cloth, wiped every inch of that emaciated body, which was almost reduced to a skeleton.
Bai Qingxue’s ribs were individually discernible, and her collarbones were deep enough to hold a spoonful of water.
When Ye Qingyao’s fingers touched those protruding bones, she would pause for a moment, then continue, her movements unchanged, though her breathing would grow slightly heavier.
She wouldn't ask unnecessary questions.
She simply acted.
Doing everything Bai Qingxue couldn't do, everything Bai Qingxue didn't want to do, everything no one else could do.
Lu Xueqing watched, her heart a tangled mess.
She envied Ye Qingyao, envied that she could move in without hesitation, envied that she could touch Bai Qingxue with righteous ease, envied that she didn't have to stand behind the identity of a “Senior Sister,” unable to do anything.
Yet she was also grateful to Ye Qingyao.
Because she knew that without Ye Qingyao, Bai Qingxue might silently disappear on some deserted night.
Not suicide; Bai Qingxue wouldn't commit suicide.
But Bai Qingxue would become like cold ashes, slowly and quietly losing her last bit of warmth, and then one day, close her eyes and never open them again.
Ye Qingyao’s presence kept those cold ashes from completely dying out.
One month later, on a certain night, Lu Xueqing drank a lot of wine.
She didn't usually drink, but that day she went to the market and bought a jar of strong liquor, drinking most of it by herself in her courtyard.
When the alcohol took hold, she pushed open Bai Qingxue’s courtyard gate.
Ye Qingyao wasn't there.
She returned to Qingyun Peak every few days to handle matters, and that day happened to be her free time.
The door to the quiet room was ajar.
Bai Qingxue lay on the bed, not sleeping, her eyes open, staring at the ceiling.
Moonlight streamed in through the window, falling on her silver-white long hair, dyeing the entire quiet room a cool, silvery white.
Lu Xueqing walked in and sat by the bed.
She looked at Bai Qingxue’s face for a long time.
Then she did the one thing she had wanted to do for a long time but never dared.
She leaned down and kissed Bai Qingxue’s forehead.
Bai Qingxue neither dodged nor responded.
She simply lay there, moonlight on her face, her eyes half-closed, her eyelashes trembling slightly.
Lu Xueqing’s tears fell, landing on Bai Qingxue’s cheek.
“Junior Sister Bai,” Lu Xueqing’s voice was so hoarse it was almost inaudible, “Wake up... look at me... are you still there?”
Bai Qingxue didn't answer.
Lu Xueqing buried her face in Bai Qingxue’s neck, her shoulders trembling violently.
She cried fiercely but made no sound, like a drowning person desperately trying to grasp something, yet catching nothing.
She cried for a long time.
Then she lifted her head, haphazardly wiped her face with her sleeve, and looked at Bai Qingxue.
Bai Qingxue remained the same, lying quietly, her eyes half-closed, making it impossible to tell if she was awake or asleep. Moonlight fell on her silver-white eyelashes, like a thin layer of frost.
Lu Xueqing reached out, her fingertips gently touching Bai Qingxue’s forearm.
There had once been a faint mark from a kiss there, but now it had completely vanished, leaving nothing behind.
She couldn't even keep this.
“Junior Sister Bai,” Lu Xueqing’s voice was so soft it seemed meant only for herself.
“Do you know... I've wanted... this for a long time...”
Lu Xueqing sat by the bed for a long time again.
The intoxication gradually faded, replaced by a deeper, heavier exhaustion.
She stood up, walked to the door, and glanced back.
Bai Qingxue remained in that same position, motionless, like an ice sculpture, like a painting, like a body not yet placed in a coffin.
Lu Xueqing closed the door, leaned against the door panel, and slowly slid to the ground.
She buried her face in her knees, and her shoulders began to tremble again.
This time, she cried for a long time.
Later, Ye Qingyao returned.
She didn't ask what had happened to Bai Qingxue, nor did she ask why there was a smell of alcohol in the quiet room.
She simply, as usual, boiled medicine, combed hair, bathed, and fed her.
Lu Xueqing also continued to come every day, bringing a pot of tea and sitting under the old plum tree for a while.
The two hadn't discussed it, yet they acted with an understanding as if they had rehearsed a thousand times.
Ye Qingyao was responsible for all the trivialities of Bai Qingxue’s life. Lu Xueqing was responsible for waiting by her side.
Yet Bai Qingxue still didn't speak.
But one day, as Ye Qingyao was combing her hair, Bai Qingxue suddenly reached out and touched Ye Qingyao’s hand.
It was a very light touch, as if wind had brushed against her skin.
Ye Qingyao’s comb paused for a moment.
Then she continued to comb, one stroke, two strokes, three strokes.
She didn't speak, but her eyes reddened.
Lu Xueqing sat under the old plum tree and watched Bai Qingxue’s hand slide from Ye Qingyao’s.
Her fingers tightened around the teacup, then loosened.
She picked up the teacup and took a sip.
The main hall at the peak.
True Lord Shuanghua sat on a meditation cushion, the hall filled with lingering cold qi. She hadn't left this main hall in a long time.
But whenever she did go out, she would always look at the old plum tree.
The old plum tree she had personally planted the year she achieved Foundation Establishment, which hadn't bloomed for hundreds of years, yet had burst into full blossom overnight the spring Bai Qingxue arrived.
Now, that plum tree no longer bloomed.
Its branches were bare, the buds still present, but they never opened.
As if waiting for someone to return.
True Lord Shuanghua withdrew her gaze, closed her eyes, as if nothing had happened.
The old plum tree’s withered branches swayed gently in the wind.
The buds were still there.
But who knew how long it would have to wait for the next winter that would make it bloom.
...
Everything was just as the poem said.
“In the shadows, events swiftly shift; I sit guarding cold ashes, hoping for a re-ignition.”
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