The silhouette of Canglan Island shrank inch by inch behind the flying boat. It faded from a massive island into a pale speck floating on the sea, then into a thin line, before finally blending completely into the twilight where the sky met the sea.
The flying boat had already risen above the clouds. Outside the window, a sea of clouds stretched from beneath her feet to the horizon, painted by the setting sun into layers of interwoven gold-red and orange. It looked like a sprawling sheet of brocade, with shadows pooled in its folds and scattered light shimmering on its flat surfaces.
Bai Qingxue sat by the window in the cabin, her back pressed against the cool wooden wall and her knees slightly bent, with the Frost Moon Chant resting across her lap. In her hand, she held the half of the broken hairpin, her fingertips repeatedly tracing the extremely faint pattern at the break, sliding from one end to the other and back again.
The texture of the jade was cool and delicate, identical to the touch of the Frost Moon Chant's body. It was as if they were two pieces cut from the same block of jade, meeting again in her hands after who knew how many years.
The cabin door was closed. Outside in the corridor, the sounds of Xuantian Sect disciples walking and whispering grew muffled and distant through the wooden panels.
A low hum vibrated deep within the hull of the flying boat, like the steady breathing of some massive living creature.
The sea of clouds outside the window still flowed slowly. The twilight gradually shifted from orange-red to dark purple, then sank from dark purple into a hazy, dusty blue.
Bai Qingxue raised the broken hairpin to her eyes, tilting it against the remaining daylight outside the window.
Under the angled light, the faint pattern at the break revealed a clearer path—curving, splitting, and merging again, like a map of a severed river's tributaries. One half was left on the hairpin, while the other half was lost to parts unknown.
Bai Qingxue's gaze traced along the lines, stopping at a certain fork.
The cold energy at the bottom of the Nanhuai ice coffin. The residual spiritual power within the half-broken hairpin.
These things spun slowly in her mind, their edges beginning to align, like two scattered puzzle pieces being pushed into the same position by an invisible hand.
Although the outline was still blurry, Bai Qingxue could already sense what lay beneath the puzzle.
However, her current cultivation was not yet high enough.
The late stage of Foundation Establishment was top-tier among the younger generation, and few of her peers could withstand more than a few of her strikes, but Bai Qingxue knew it was not enough.
The shadow of the Northern Region Demonic Sect still lurked in the distance, that restriction was still wrapped around Ning Qinghan, and that door was still submerged deep within the ice, waiting to be opened.
Bai Qingxue could feel the passage of time urging her on, like the subtle chill of water slipping through her fingers.
Bai Qingxue put the broken hairpin back into her storage bag, her fingertips lingering on the drawstring for a moment longer before letting go.
The door was pushed open.
Lu Xueqing walked in carrying a tray with a white porcelain teapot and two cups on it. Dense white steam rose from the spout of the teapot, swirling in the twilight before being gently dispersed by the wind seeping through the crack in the cabin window.
She walked over to the seat opposite Bai Qingxue, placed the tray on the low table, and sat down across from her.
Bai Qingxue looked up at her. Lu Xueqing's profile was gilded with a gold-red edge by the twilight outside the window, her eyelashes casting a small shadow on her cheek.
Lu Xueqing tilted her wrist slightly. The water fell from the spout into the cup with almost no sound, only a faint ripple lapping against the rim of the cup before settling.
She pushed one of the cups in front of Bai Qingxue.
“Drink it while it's hot,” Lu Xueqing said.
Bai Qingxue picked up the teacup. The warmth of the cup's wall seeped through her finger pads, spreading from her fingertips to the base of her fingers.
She lowered her head and took a sip. The sweet, smooth tea slowly dissolved on her tongue, carrying a hint of the clean, bitter aftertaste characteristic of spiritual medicine, which quickly dispersed into a gentle warmth.
The two sat facing each other, neither speaking for a moment. Outside the window, the sea of clouds still flowed slowly, the twilight deepening from grayish-blue to dark purple. The last sliver of gold-red light brushed against the edge of the clouds and vanished.
The hum of the flying boat echoed softly deep within the cabin.
“Junior Sister Bai, after we return...” Lu Xueqing spoke, her voice slightly steadier than before, as if she had weighed this question in her mind several times.
“What are your plans?”
Bai Qingxue's hand holding the teacup did not move, her pale pupils reflecting the last dark purple glow of the twilight outside the window.
She paused for a moment, as if making a final confirmation of the words that had already been hovering at the tip of her tongue. Then she raised her eyes, looked into Lu Xueqing's eyes, and said,
“Senior Sister Lu, accompany me in secluded cultivation.”
Lu Xueqing's hand holding the teacup froze abruptly.
Her fingers stopped on the rim of the cup, her fingertips tightening slightly. With that slight movement, the tea in the cup shook gently, rippling out in extremely fine waves.
She opened her mouth, her lips parting slightly, then closed them again. She repeated this twice, as if the word had spun on the tip of her tongue and burned her.
“Huh?!”
Bai Qingxue looked at her, neither urging her nor looking away.
Lu Xueqing's ear received a very faint blush.
Her fingertips loosened and tightened on the rim of the cup, tightened and loosened. She took a deep breath, and finally pushed that word out of her throat:
“Yes!”
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