Chapter 006

Zhaoxue knew that if she wanted to complete the mission, this was something she absolutely had to do.

She couldn’t just stay here, not even by begging or clinging on. She had to get involved in the main storyline to escape her fate as cannon fodder.

She couldn’t help but glance sideways at Zhaolan, who looked shocked.

She said it deliberately when Zhaolan was present.

She knew her big sister was a person of her word, but she needed an extra layer of insurance.

With Zhaolan there, even in front of the younger generation, her big sister would never outright refuse.

“Zhaoxue…”

“Big sister, I know this might sound unreasonable — after all, I have no spiritual power, and no ability to protect myself. But I promise I will obediently stay by your side, won’t go anywhere, and won’t cause you any trouble!”

Zhaoxue looked firmly at Zhāoyáng. “I also hope, big sister, that you can consider my feelings, okay?”

Consider my feelings, and take me away from this place that will trap me for life, take me away from this story’s cage.

I want to see a wider world, too.

“Zhaoxue, I understand how you feel. But this matter is very important — it’s not something I can decide alone.”

Zhāoyáng’s hand moved away from Zhaoxue’s cheek. She looked away, lost in thought.

“I will think it over for a few days, then give you an answer.”

“I know this is a hard decision to make. I don’t expect you to give me an answer quickly.”

Zhaoxue lowered her eyes.

“As long as big sister can consider my feelings, I’ll be very happy.”

…Of course, she would still be rejected.

Ah, so tired.

Zhaoxue returned to her room gloomily, collapsed onto the bed, buried her face in the blanket, and refused visitors. Just talking to all those people today had already drained all her energy.

Sure enough, changing the original storyline was not an easy thing.

“Why do you look so discouraged?”

Hearing the voice, Zhaoxue sat up on the bed. Without turning around, she already knew who it was — always appearing and disappearing mysteriously, walking like a cat without a sound.

“Did Taxue not come?” Zhaoxue changed the subject and wiped her eyes with her back to Ji Xueshou. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of teasing her.

“You said you had some allergy today, so I sent it back.”

Dim light flickered on the quilt through the gaps in the window lattice. The bitter scent of medicine drifted into Zhaoxue’s nose. He crouched beside her bed, strands of his curly black hair fell near her hand.

The boy’s three-strand braid was placed gently into Zhaoxue’s palm, like a cat laying its tail on its owner’s hand to seek favor.

“You come to see me every day, don’t you have anything else to do?”

Zhaoxue tugged his braid, feeling a slight relief in her mood.

Ji Xueshou was silent for a moment, then slowly said, “Soon, I have the preliminary selection for the Hidden Sword Sect.”

Zhaoxue was stunned.

She almost forgot that Ji Xueshou’s selection was the day after tomorrow.

“That’s good,” Zhaoxue slowly withdrew her hand, “With your talent, you’ll definitely be accepted as a disciple by some master in the sect.”

“I don’t want to.”

After a long moment, the boy’s voice slowly fell to the floor, as quiet as a speck of dust.

“You should go.”

Zhaoxue reached out and gently touched his ear. Since the room was dim, no one could clearly see each other’s expressions. She lifted her face and pretended to be carefree.

“If you don’t go, the cultivation world will lose a rising star. You have to go and show them who’s truly powerful.”

“…Okay.”

The boy replied quietly.

“But—”

Zhaoxue suddenly spoke again, her hand softly massaging his ear as she raised her voice.

“Don’t forget me, Ji Xueshou.”

“No matter who you meet in the sect, no matter what happens to you, no matter who you become…”

Zhaoxue recalled those emotionless eyes from her dream — a stranger’s gaze that made her heart feel like it had fallen into an ice cellar. She lowered her head and looked at the boy.

“Don’t forget me.”

“Okay.”

Only after hearing his promise did Zhaoxue finally relax.

Ji Xueshou never asked her why. That was their unspoken understanding.

With a slightly steadied heart, Zhaoxue spent a peaceful night. Early the next morning, she was woken by Taxue’s paws stepping on her. When she opened her eyes, the black cat was walking back and forth on her blanket.

The boy was leaning by her window, a silver longevity lock flashing brightly in the dawn light. He waved his hand, looking a bit excited:

“Let’s go out and play.”

Zhaoxue quickly washed up and hurriedly put on some clothes. With Ji Xueshou’s help, she struggled to climb over the wall.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll know when we get there.”

Ji Xueshou handed her a paper package.

Zhaoxue opened it to find a bag of hibiscus cakes. She ate some as she followed Ji Xueshou, with Taxue trailing behind her like a shadow.

Ji Xueshou led her around the Ji family guards and up the back mountain. Among the lush green trees, a light, misty rain began to fall.

Zhaoxue tucked the unfinished hibiscus cakes into her sleeve. Disliking the dampness, Taxue jumped into her arms.

“It’s raining! Are we there yet?”

Ji Xueshou took her hand. “Let’s go find shelter from the rain first.”

Suddenly, a purple-red cloak was draped over her head, blocking her view and shielding her from the fine, swaying raindrops.

The fresh but bitter scent of herbs wafted into her nose. Zhaoxue paused and looked up. The boy’s slender figure was ahead, his cool hand pulling her along as they slipped into a small cave.

“Hey, you…”

Zhaoxue crouched inside the cave. Taxue poked its head out from her arms and shook it. Before she could finish speaking, the rain intensified.

The boy’s curly hair was damp, sticking wetly to his cheeks. His long eyelashes held droplets that fell as he lowered his gaze. Water trickled down his face and neck into his collar, revealing the pale pink texture of his skin.

He reached out and wiped the drops from Zhaoxue’s cheek with her cloak.

Zhaoxue grabbed his wrist and glared at him. “Aren’t you cold? If you catch a cold, I’ll become your family’s eternal sinner!”

Ji Xueshou blinked, as if caught by the word, his eyelids flushed slightly. He curled his fingers and avoided her angry eyes. “It’s okay. You’re just right.”

Zhaoxue shook off his hand. “I’m not caring about you!”

“The rain will ease up soon, then we’ll leave.”

Ji Xueshou glanced outside the cave and casually snapped off a thin, green bamboo twig. The dripping water fell from the bamboo leaves onto the bluish-gray stones, then slowly seeped into the soil. The girl hugged her knees, wrapped in her cloak, head down, watching the gentle stream trickling through the cracks between the rocks.

Zhaoxue heard the tinkling sound of the longevity lock.

She looked up. “What are you doing again?”

“Sword dancing,” Ji Xueshou replied with clear eyes watching her. He stood up, his tall, slender frame like a green bamboo stalk. In the low, narrow cave, he had to stoop, his clothes soaked in rainwater, looking a bit disheveled.

Zhaoxue recalled what happened yesterday.

“You, you…” she snapped, “You just recovered from your fever a few weeks ago, right? No sense at all!”

“Because you said you liked watching,” he said.

Ji Xueshou turned back and stepped into the rain, small splashes rising where his feet touched.

“Besides, I’m fine. My health is good. It’s just a little rain.”

With the bamboo twig as his sword, he cut through the wind and rain. The sound of wind breaking came with it.

The boy in the rain looked like a green bamboo stalk—elegant and upright. His pale fingers gripped the slender bamboo as he danced in the rain, exuding a soft yet sharp power. A light ringing from the longevity lock at his chest chimed “ding-ling-ling,” blending with the drip-drop of raindrops. His dark-green and black hair intertwined like ink wash painting, slowly spreading in front of Zhaoxue.

It was different from Zhaolan’s style.

Zhaolan’s sword intent was full of youthful vigor and vitality, like a mountain stream’s morning breeze greeting the sunrise. But Ji Xueshou’s sword intent was like gentle spring rain—each flick of the bamboo twig cast shifting green shadows, and the fine rain softly fell. Along with the gentle, continuous feeling came sharp needles, one careless moment, and they could pierce through and cause bleeding wounds.

Zhaoxue stared for a long moment before realizing something. She bit her lip, wrapped in her purple-red cloak, dashed out of the cave, and walked toward him in the drizzle. The bamboo twig cut through the wind, aiming straight for her brow.

Ji Xueshou clearly didn’t expect her to come forward so suddenly. He opened his eyes wide in shock. The fine rain streaked across his face, leaving water marks. He stared at the girl in front of him, then after a long moment, released his grip. The bamboo twig fell to the ground with a soft “pat.”

His fingers trembled slightly, still shaken. He reached out to touch her brow, but hesitated.

Zhaoxue was indeed angry.

With a sharp slap, she knocked his hand away and called his name loudly:

“Ji, Xue, Shou!”

“Are you hurt anywhere…?”

Ji Xueshou didn’t care about his reddened hand. He just stared unblinkingly at the angry face of the girl before him.

“Do you remember what happened that winter when you were twelve? On New Year’s Eve, with heavy snow?” Zhaoxue ignored his words and asked on her own.

No answer came.

Only the raindrops fell softly, tapping the bamboo leaves.

“That New Year’s Eve, you came to my house to play chess with me in the courtyard.”

Zhaoxue looked at his pale face and nose tip, tinged bluish-white from the rain.

“We agreed on best of three games to decide the winner. But the third game ended in a tie. I said we’d play again the next day. You insisted on one more game, and I agreed. Then… what happened next, do you remember?”

She didn’t wait for his answer. Her voice was hoarse and trembling:

“That night, you went home and ran a high fever for three days and nights. Your mother angrily said it was because of me that you got sick, and forbade you from coming to play with me again. Do you remember how you begged your mother after you got better? Do you remember how my eldest sister came back that year and went to your house to take care of you and apologize to your mother!?”

The boy suddenly snapped back to reality. He lowered his lashes, not daring to look at her. Rain slid down his eyelashes, dripping off.

He whispered softly, “…I’m sorry.”

“It was my fault.”

Zhaoxue fell silent for a moment, then slowly took a breath. After a while, she said:

“Was that really necessary, Ji Xueshou?”

“…”

“If you just wanted to see my eldest sister, you could have told me. I would have taken you to see her. Did you have to use your body as a price?”

The boy’s body froze for a moment.

“How much did you have to like her to purposely hurt yourself, just so she would come take care of you?”

Zhaoxue lowered her head, her eyes red, biting her lower lip tightly. Her hands clenched her sleeves hard, and her shoulders trembled slightly.

Ji Xueshou’s throat suddenly tightened.

He couldn’t speak, couldn’t say the words, “Why do you think that way?” He had long known that Zhaoxue was a sensitive person with a complicated mind, caring more about the little things than anyone else.

Because of that, maybe back then, when he said “I think I kind of like your eldest sister, Zhaoyang,” just to get close to the girl who always played Go alone quietly in the courtyard, that sentence itself was a mistake.

From then on, all his genuine feelings became deliberate acts.

Ji Xueshou hesitated for a long time. When the chill of the rain finally cleared his mind, he shivered, reached out, and wrapped Zhaoxue’s outer robe around her.

His voice was a little hoarse. After a long pause, he couldn’t say anything else, only softly asked:

“Zhaoxue, are you cold?”