The morning the flying boat arrived, the sky had not yet fully brightened.
Bai Qingxue had changed into her frost-white True Disciple uniform, with the Shuanghua sword hanging at her waist.
Her silver-white hair was pinned up with a white jade hairpin, and the ice-blue pendant around her neck shimmered in the dawn light.
Standing at the courtyard gate, Bai Qingxue took one last look at the guest courtyard where she had lived for several years.
Then she turned and walked out.
Xiao Nanyuan was not in the courtyard at the moment; it was unknown where she had gone.
The flying boat was stationed atop the high mountain outside the royal palace. Its hull was pitch black, and the gunwales were carved with formation patterns, just as they had been when she arrived.
The deacon stood by the gangway and bowed to Bai Qingxue with hands clasped. Bai Qingxue nodded in return, intending to board the vessel.
Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps came from behind.
The footsteps treading on the stone steps were urgent and frantic.
Bai Qingxue stopped and turned around.
Xiao Nanyuan came running up from below the stone steps.
She was still wearing that pale green cotton dress, her hair tied behind her head with a plain cloth ribbon.
The morning breeze had tousled her stray hairs, a few strands sticking to her temples, dampened by fine sweat.
She had been running hard; her chest heaved violently, and her hem was stained with mud spots and grass clippings from the riverside.
In Xiao Nanyuan's hand, she gripped something very tightly, as if she were clutching the most important thing in her life.
She ran up to Bai Qingxue, stopped, and bent over, gasping for breath.
Her breath was hurried and hot, turning into small puffs of white in the morning mist.
Bai Qingxue watched her.
Xiao Nanyuan straightened up and held the item in her hand out to Bai Qingxue.
It was a flower.
Dewdrops still clung to the petals. Even though Xiao Nanyuan had run so fast, she had kept the flower steady.
The flower was a purple wild iris, found only in the wilds of Nanhuai, growing by the riverside.
“Immortal Sister, this is for you.” Xiao Nanyuan’s voice was still breathless, the end of her sentence trembling slightly—whether from the run or something else was unclear.
Bai Qingxue nodded and took the iris.
Bai Qingxue looked at the flower, her thoughts unknown.
Xiao Nanyuan stood before Bai Qingxue, her breathing slowing down.
She looked at Bai Qingxue, at the flower in her hand, and at the pendant around her neck.
At this moment, Xiao Nanyuan desperately wanted to carve this image into her mind—carve it deeper, and deeper still, so deep that even time could not wear it away.
Carve it into her bones, into every breath, and into all the days ahead without her.
So she took a step forward.
The two of them were already very close.
Close enough that Bai Qingxue could see the fine sweat on her eyelashes, close enough to smell the faint scent of soapberry mixed with the morning breeze, close enough that the distance between their breaths was only the width of a fist.
Yet Xiao Nanyuan still did not stop.
She took another half-step forward.
Bai Qingxue did not retreat.
Xiao Nanyuan tilted her face up.
She was now as tall as Bai Qingxue; she didn't need to stand on tiptoe or strain her neck.
She simply looked directly into Bai Qingxue’s eyes—the eyes she had looked at for seven years. From the first day when she stood before those eyes with her head lowered, afraid to speak, to now, looking into them and being unable to speak.
Xiao Nanyuan’s lips moved, but no sound came out.
Her gaze moved from Bai Qingxue’s eyes to her lips, pausing for a heartbeat.
That moment was brief, measurable only by a heartbeat, but it was enough for a thought to surface from the depths of her heart and then sink back down.
Then her gaze shifted back to Bai Qingxue’s eyes.
Her fingers clenched at her sides, loosened, then clenched again.
When she clenched them, her nails dug into her palms; when she loosened them, faint red marks were left behind.
Bai Qingxue watched her.
She guessed what Xiao Nanyuan wanted to do.
The shimmer in those eyes was too bright, exposing all of Xiao Nanyuan’s little thoughts.
But Bai Qingxue did not speak, nor did she move.
Her hand hung at her side, still clutching the iris. The dew on the petals slid down between her fingers, cool, drop by drop, falling onto the stone slabs beneath her feet.
She looked into Xiao Nanyuan’s eyes.
Xiao Nanyuan was waiting for her—waiting for her to say “You may,” or waiting for her to leave.
However, Bai Qingxue neither retreated nor advanced.
She just stood there, looking at Xiao Nanyuan.
After a moment, Bai Qingxue reached out her hand.
Bai Qingxue reached her hand to the side of Xiao Nanyuan’s face, her fingers gently gathering the few stray hairs tousled by the morning wind and tucking them behind her ear.
Bai Qingxue’s movements were light—as light as when she wiped away tears the previous night, as light as when she folded the Daoist robes, as light as every gentle thing she had done in Nanhuai.
Bai Qingxue’s fingertips slid past Xiao Nanyuan’s temple and touched her ear.
The auricle was so hot that Bai Qingxue felt a prickle of heat, causing her fingertips to pause behind Xiao Nanyuan’s ear for a heartbeat.
This was the second time she had proactively touched Xiao Nanyuan.
She had thought the last time would be the final time, but she hadn't expected it to be broken so soon.
As Bai Qingxue’s fingers held Xiao Nanyuan’s hair, her fingertips pressed against that burning skin, and something in her heart seemed to be loosening bit by bit.
Bai Qingxue didn't know what to say, so she simply finished tucking the hair and withdrew her hand.
Xiao Nanyuan’s breath hitched for a beat. In that beat, her world consisted only of the lingering coolness on her ear. Just like the night before, Xiao Nanyuan felt this was the warmest thing she had ever touched in her life.
Xiao Nanyuan’s gaze fell on Bai Qingxue’s face. She looked into Bai Qingxue’s eyes, seeing things she had seen before and things she hadn't. Then she curled her lips into a smile and took a step back.
In the end, Xiao Nanyuan did not kiss her.
Because she knew that the Immortal Sister’s lack of rejection was not permission, but indulgence.
Indulging her hugs, indulging her crying until her robes were soaked, indulging her as she drew closer bit by bit over these seven years.
But indulgence was not an answer. She didn't want to make the Immortal Sister's life difficult.
She didn't want to use a kiss at the very end to trade for an answer the Immortal Sister couldn't give.
She would rather leave that kiss in the distance that never happened, in that half-step between them, in the fallen leaves of the old locust tree, and in every morning and evening of their seven years in Nanhuai.
“Immortal Sister.” Her voice was very soft, with a hint of nasality, the end of the words drawn out as if she were loath to finish the sentence.
Bai Qingxue watched her.
“Do not ever forget me.”
Five words.
It took Xiao Nanyuan seven years to gather enough strength to say them.
It wasn't “Take me away,” it wasn't “Stay here,” and it wasn't “I love you.”
It was “Do not ever forget me.”
Xiao Nanyuan knew she couldn't make her stay, knew they might never meet again for the rest of their lives, so she only asked to occupy a tiny corner in her long memory.
Bai Qingxue nodded.
The movement was small but certain, just as it had been when she first said “I will.”
Then she lowered her head and untied the Shuanghua sword tassel from her waist.
It was a strand of silver-white silk cord, woven simply and tied to the end of the hilt; she never let it leave her side.
She placed the sword tassel in Xiao Nanyuan’s palm, together with the jade talisman.
“I won't,” she said.
Xiao Nanyuan looked at the sword tassel in her palm, the silver-white silk cord shimmering faintly in the morning light.
She gripped it tight, until the silk cord dug into her palm along with the jade talisman. Then she looked up and caught Bai Qingxue’s gaze once more.
That gaze was long, as if she wanted to take in every detail of this person’s features, their silhouette, and the small damp patch on their collar where she had cried.
That gaze was also short; before either of them could say another word, she turned and ran away.
Xiao Nanyuan did not look back.
Her steps were swift, like a bird spreading its wings, truly leaving the nest it had always relied upon.
Bai Qingxue stood where she was, watching Xiao Nanyuan’s back grow more distant and smaller, until she finally disappeared at the end of the mountain ridge.
She still held the iris in her hand. Its petals trembled slightly in the morning breeze; the dew had dried, but the flower remained in bloom.
The deacon gave a light cough by the gangway.
Bai Qingxue withdrew her gaze, turned, and boarded the flying boat.
The gangway was retracted, and the flying boat’s formations began to operate.
The hull slowly rose, leaving the ground, passing over the peaks, through the morning mist, and flying north.
The formation patterns on the hull lit up one by one, emitting a low hum like a long, long sigh.
Xiao Nanyuan stood at the edge of the mountaintop, her head tilted back, watching the black flying boat fly higher and farther until it completely vanished from sight.
Then she lowered her head and opened her palm.
Two things lay in Xiao Nanyuan’s palm: a green jade talisman and a silver-white sword tassel.
She pressed them to her chest and closed her eyes.
The jade talisman was cool, and the sword tassel was cool, but the place where they were pressed together slowly grew warm, matching her own body temperature.
“Immortal Sister, will we meet again?”
Xiao Nanyuan’s voice was very soft, swept away by the morning breeze as soon as she spoke.
No one could answer her at this moment.
But the jade talisman in her palm flickered slightly—a green glow, very faint, almost invisible.
As if someone, from a very distant place, had given an answer.
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