Two soft knocks came from beyond the courtyard gate.
Dawn had barely broken, and the morning light had yet to crest the courtyard wall. Visitors were rare at his courtyard.
Throwing an outer robe over his shoulders, he went to open the gate. Lin Zhixue stood at the entrance, head tilted slightly up. The moment the gate opened, she asked, “What are you doing today?”
He paused, caught off guard.
She stood in the morning mist, her hair neatly bound up and the Guilan Sword hanging at her waist.
Her amber eyes gazed at him with utter clarity.
A bit odd. Why had she come all the way here at the crack of dawn to ask him that?
“Practicing sword flight,” he said, rubbing his eyes and stepping aside. “Do you want to come in?”
“Sword flight?” Lin Zhixue stepped into the courtyard and turned to face him. “You don’t know how?”
“...What?”
“Sword flight. You can’t do it?”
“Are you serious?”
Looking at her matter-of-fact expression, he was at a loss for words.
“Sword flight is something you usually can’t do until Foundation Establishment—”
“I’ve already learned it,” she cut in.
“Learned it a few days ago while you were recovering from your injuries. Running back and forth across the sect was too inconvenient.”
He stared at her for several breaths, common sense violently clashing with the reality before his eyes.
A Qi Refining cultivator’s spiritual energy wasn't sufficient to sustain the continuous output required for sword flight—that was common knowledge throughout the cultivation world.
Then again, she was Lin Zhixue, the female lead of 《Treading on Snow》.
Swallowing the “that's impossible” that had risen to the tip of his tongue, the look on his face cycled through several expressions before he finally forced out, “Learning it in advance... Fair enough.”
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” he paused, “you’re really quite talented.”
“I thought so too when I practiced yesterday.”
Laying the Guilan Sword flat on the ground, she stepped onto it. The blade rose steadily half a chi off the ground, completely motionless.
Standing on the sword, she looked down at him and gestured with her hand. “Get on.”
He stood frozen in place, falling silent for a moment.
An inner disciple at mid Foundation Establishment, being taught sword flight by a study companion in Qi Refining.
If word got out, how could he ever show his face?
Yet she stood on the sword waiting for him, her hand still held out midair. There was no mockery in her eyes, nor did she rush him; she simply waited in quiet patience.
“All right.” He stepped onto her Guilan Sword.
The blade hovered steadily, dipping merely half an inch under the weight of an additional person.
Standing behind her, he hadn't even found his footing before his whole body began wobbling left and right, his arms flailing in several wide circles through the air.
“Hold onto me.”
Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed her waist.
Lin Zhixue froze instantly.
As though scalded by something scorching hot, she went rigid from head to toe.
A faint flush rushed to her cheeks. Lowering her voice, it took several breaths before she squeezed out a word through gritted teeth.
“...Hands.”
Only then did he realize where his hands were. He let go abruptly, nearly tumbling off the sword as he lost his balance.
“Sorry, I thought you meant—”
“Hold my shoulders.” Keeping her eyes fixed forward, her voice returned to its usual composure, though the color on her face had yet to fade completely.
Cautiously, he placed his hands on her shoulders.
Shifting slightly, she merely adjusted the blade beneath her feet, carrying him slowly upward.
The Guilan Sword rose gently into the air, cleared the top of the courtyard walls, and flew toward the sect’s rear mountain.
The morning breeze drifted between them, tossing her ponytail so that it brushed against the back of his hand. He pretended not to notice.
At the rear mountain lay a wide stone terrace, a practice ground where outer disciples trained in sword flight.
At this hour, there weren't many people around, with only a few outer disciples scattered in the corners practicing.
Lin Zhixue brought the Guilan Sword to a halt in the center of the stone terrace and hopped off.
“Let’s begin.”
Gu Yanqing drew his own sword.
“What should I do?”
“Channel your spiritual energy into the sword. Don't think about making the sword fly; think about having it follow your will.”
She explained several key points she had figured out while practicing on her sword, then demonstrated them on her own blade for a bit.
How to control altitude and speed by drawing in and releasing spiritual energy, and how to lean into turns so the body’s tilt guided the blade.
Some of her explanations differed from what the sect taught, born from her own practice over the past few days, but they were more straightforward and easier to grasp.
Following her method, he stepped onto his sword again. Sure enough, it was noticeably steadier than when he had fumbled around blindly in the courtyard.
She walked alongside him, occasionally reaching out to steady his shoulder and help him keep his balance.
The gesture was natural, just like when he had held her shoulders earlier—merely a necessary form of assistance.
A few outer disciples passed by the stone terrace. One of them muttered something in a hushed voice, while another stole a few glances their way before being dragged off by the arm by their companion.
A few snippets of words drifted over faintly:
“Isn’t that an inner disciple?” “Study companion...” “Why do they seem so close?”
Gu Yanqing naturally heard them, but he had no time to worry about other people’s gossip.
He was focusing all his attention on keeping his balance. When he wobbled during a turn, Lin Zhixue reached out and pressed down on his shoulder to straighten him out.
Xiaoyu had drifted out of the jade pendant at some point, hovering cross-legged in midair and watching the spectacle with keen interest.
Watching Gu Yanqing sway and wobble, it couldn't hold back a burst of laughter.
“Hahaha! You don’t know sword flight! Mid Foundation Establishment and you still can’t fly a sword! Zhixue already knows how, but you still don’t!”
Gu Yanqing drifted past it with an unfazed expression. The sword gave a slight tremor before steadying again, the concentration on his face unwavering.
“Your disciple isn’t learning half bad!”
Xiaoyu flew to Lin Zhixue’s ear and lowered its voice, though the teasing tone remained unabated.
Lin Zhixue didn't reply to it in this setting. She merely pursed her lips and continued watching him.
He flew half a circle around the stone terrace. When his body tilted during a turn, she raised her hand slightly, but he regained his balance on his own. She lowered her hand and kept watching him.
After the better part of a shichen, he could finally ride the sword in a full circle around the terrace without touching down.
Though he wasn't fast, he was fairly steady, and his turns were no longer lurching wildly like before.
He hopped down from the sword, the gust from the blade kicking up a small swirl of dust on the terrace.
Lin Zhixue watched him finish the final stretch. Only after he touched down and found his footing did she speak:
“Just like that. You just need to practice more from now on.”
He nodded and sheathed his sword, his breath slightly uneven.
...
That night, Lin Zhixue lay in bed inside the study companion dormitory.
Moonlight spilled through the window onto the Guilan Sword resting on the low table by her bed, its blade gleaming with a faint watery sheen.
Her eyes were closed, but sleep eluded her.
The day's sword flight lesson replayed in her mind.
From knocking on his gate in the morning, to the training on the stone terrace, to him flying that final lap around the terrace on his sword before they left.
All of these were perfectly ordinary occurrences.
She taught him, he learned, and after practicing more on his own tomorrow, he would master it soon enough.
Yet none of that was what tossed and turned in her mind.
It was that moment he reached out and held her shoulders.
She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling.
Holding shoulders was necessary contact. She knew that.
Holding the other person's shoulders to keep balance while teaching sword flight was the most normal thing in the world; anyone teaching anyone else would do the same.
Afterward, he had behaved and held her shoulders properly, his fingers so well-mannered they only touched that small patch of fabric atop her shoulders, his grip just right—neither too heavy nor too light.
So why had it still felt strange when he held her shoulders?
She rolled over beneath the quilt, burying her face into the pillow.
Stop thinking about it. Go to sleep.
Outside the window, the chirping of insects gradually subsided.
Moonlight glided slowly across the blade of the Guilan Sword, its watery spiritual glow rippling quietly in the dark.
Rate on N.U.
