On the day of her departure, Bai Qingxue rose before the sun had fully broken through the horizon.
She did not disturb anyone.
The quiet room had already been tidied.
The bedding on the stone bed was neatly folded, the small table was cleared, and the bronze mirror remained face down on the table.
The Shuanghua sword hung at her waist, while the Frost Condensation Sword was stored inside her storage bag.
Standing in the center of the quiet room, Bai Qingxue took one last look around before turning to leave.
The silver-white buds of the old plum tree swayed gently in the morning breeze, their leaves sparkling with dewdrops in the dim light.
The stone steps were long. The morning mist had not yet dissipated, stretching from the foot of the mountain all the way to the peak, veiling the distant mountain ranges in a hazy blur.
The mountain gate came into view.
Outside the mountain gate, the flying boat had been waiting for some time.
The hull was pitch black, with formation patterns carved along the gunwales that shimmered with a dull light in the dawn.
Two sect deacons stood at the bow, tallying supplies. Upon seeing Bai Qingxue approach, they cupped their hands in a slight salute.
Bai Qingxue nodded in return and was about to board the vessel.
“Sister Bai!”
A voice called out from behind her, accompanied by hurried, heavy breathing.
Bai Qingxue turned around.
Ye Qingyao was running down the stone steps.
She was dressed in her pale green martial attire with her hair tied back neatly, though a few stray strands had escaped her hair ribbon and were plastered to her face by the morning wind.
Her cheeks were flushed, fine beads of sweat clung to her forehead, and her chest heaved violently.
Ye Qingyao had run all the way from Qingyun Peak to Xueji Peak. The stone steps were long, and she had been in a great hurry.
However, her hands were clean.
The cloth bundle she held was tidy and neat, without a single wrinkle.
Ye Qingyao reached Bai Qingxue, bending over to catch her breath for a few moments before straightening up.
She opened the cloth bundle and held it out.
“Sister Bai, I’m glad I caught you.”
Though Ye Qingyao’s voice was still breathless, it remained pleasant to the ear.
Inside were several bags of tea cakes, a deep green in color, pressed tighter than before with finer patterns along the edges.
They were not from the same batch as the previous ones.
“Sister Bai, I didn’t know you were heading out on a mission earlier,” Ye Qingyao said, her voice slightly softer than usual. “So I brought you all the ones I’ve made recently. It should be enough to last you a very, very long time.”
Bai Qingxue looked at the tea cakes.
Sweeping them with her spiritual sense, she counted six bags in total.
Bai Qingxue promptly placed the bags into her storage bag one by one.
As she did, her fingers brushed against Ye Qingyao’s fingertips.
Ye Qingyao’s fingers were warm, carrying the heat from her run, and her fingertips were slightly rough—perhaps calluses from long hours of sword practice...
Ye Qingyao watched Bai Qingxue tuck away all the tea cakes, the corners of her mouth curving upward slightly.
“Sister Bai,” she paused, “let me see you onto the boat.”
Bai Qingxue gave her a look and nodded.
The two walked side by side toward the flying boat.
The gangway had already been lowered, its wooden steps appearing dark brown in the morning light.
Bai Qingxue stepped onto the first step with a steady pace.
Ye Qingyao did not follow, staying at the bottom of the gangway and looking up at her.
Bai Qingxue took three steps, stopped, and looked back.
Ye Qingyao stood there, the morning light falling upon her and tracing her silhouette with a faint golden glow.
She didn't say anything, merely watching Bai Qingxue, yet her eyes seemed to say everything she wished to express.
Bai Qingxue withdrew her gaze and continued upward.
Reaching the top of the gangway, she paused for a moment by the cabin door.
She turned around and looked down.
Ye Qingyao was still standing there.
Her gaze fell upon Bai Qingxue’s wrist. At that moment, Bai Qingxue’s sleeve had slid back a bit, revealing the green cord.
Even though the green cord was tied very lightly and the knot was small.
Ever since it appeared on Bai Qingxue’s wrist, it had never been untied.
Naturally, Ye Qingyao saw this.
Meeting Bai Qingxue’s eyes, Ye Qingyao said frankly:
“Sister Bai, when you return, let’s spar again.”
Bai Qingxue looked at her and paused for a beat.
“Alright.”
A single word.
But Ye Qingyao heard it.
Her smile deepened, and a bead of sweat still clinging to her eyelashes caught the morning light and shimmered.
Bai Qingxue turned and entered the cabin. The deacon retracted the gangway, and the flying boat's formations began to activate. The patterns along the hull lit up in sequence, emitting a low hum.
The flying boat slowly ascended, left the ground, cleared the mountain gate, and passed through the morning mist, flying toward the east.
Ye Qingyao stood outside the mountain gate, her head tilted back as she watched the pitch-black flying boat fly higher and further away.
The morning wind swept down from the mountains, making her robe flutter. Ye Qingyao raised a hand to tuck back the stray hairs blown messy by the wind, simply watching the departing vessel.
The flying boat pierced through the first layer of clouds, its hull half-swallowed by the mist before emerging again.
Looking at that blurred silhouette, Ye Qingyao suddenly remembered a few things.
Not recent things, but things from a long time ago.
Actually, it wasn't that long ago—only three years.
It was a morning like this back then. No, it was even earlier; the sky hadn't fully lightened.
She had stood on the gangway of another flying boat, transferring from the Ye family's malfunctioning vessel to the Bai family's ship.
Was Sister Bai the same then as she was now? She was.
Sister Bai was still just as cold, just as beautiful, and just as much of someone people didn't dare approach.
She was exactly the same.
But Ye Qingyao felt she was different. Perhaps it wasn't that Sister Bai was different, but that her own way of looking at Sister Bai had changed.
Three years ago, Sister Bai had eaten her osmanthus cakes.
At the time, Sister Bai had only taken a single bite of that small piece of cake before saying, “This is enough.”
But Ye Qingyao had remembered that piece of osmanthus cake for a long time. Not because it was delicious, but because it was the first time in those long years of estrangement that she had truly felt Bai Qingxue’s warmth again.
Back then, Ye Qingyao thought that was the end of it. She thought that from then on, Sister Bai would never give her anything more.
But now, three years later, Ye Qingyao stood outside the mountain gate, looking up as the flying boat turned into a small speck on the horizon.
The morning wind had mussed her hair; she raised a hand to smooth it, her fingertips touching her ear, which felt warm.
Ye Qingyao couldn't quite put into words what had changed.
Clearly, Sister Bai hadn't become more affectionate toward her, hadn't said a single soft word, and hadn't even expressed anything directly.
But Ye Qingyao simply felt that something between her and Sister Bai was different.
It wasn't that something had been added, but that something was missing.
A thin, transparent, yet unpierceable layer was gone.
The flying boat disappeared.
The morning mist surged up from the mountains, swallowing the last black speck in the sky.
Ye Qingyao withdrew her gaze and looked down at her own empty wrist.
At this moment, she suddenly thought: how wonderful would it be if Sister Bai’s green cord could also be tied here?
Her cord on Sister Bai’s wrist, and Sister Bai’s cord on her own.
Tied to each other, as if the two of them were intertwined in a place unseen, inseparable no matter what they might face...
But then Ye Qingyao shook her head, casting the thought aside.
Ye Qingyao didn't need Bai Qingxue to be anything special to her; she only needed Bai Qingxue to still be here.
Somewhere in this world, in a place she could reach step by step.
She didn't need her to be within arm's reach, as long as she wasn't so far away that she couldn't be seen.
What Ye Qingyao sought had always been very little...
A moment later, Ye Qingyao turned and walked down the stone steps. It was the direction back to Qingyun Peak, the steps leading down the mountain.
Ye Qingyao walked quickly, her boots making crisp sounds against the bluestone slabs. The morning wind blew her robe forward, but she did not look back.
She was going to practice her sword.
From today onward, she would practice every single day.
Until that person returned.
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