While the extremely faint curve of Bai Qingxue's lips still lingered in the moonlight, Lu Xueqing had already stood up to prepare the tea.
A moment later.
Steam curled gently from the spout, dispersing into fragmented white wisps in the moonlight.
When Lu Xueqing returned to the table carrying the teapot, she trod extremely lightly, as if afraid of trampling on something fragile.
Boiling water was poured into the cups, and the tea leaves slowly unfurled within the amber liquid.
Moonlight blanketed the stone table, casting long shadows of the teapot and the two cups. They overlapped diagonally across the cold stone surface like a pair of still paintings.
Bai Qingxue accepted her cup. Her fingertips brushed lightly over the knuckles of Lu Xueqing's hand, lingering for a brief half-second as if intentionally, before pulling back to clasp the body of the cup.
The touch was slightly cool, yet it felt like a spark landing on her skin, so hot that Lu Xueqing's fingers curled inward slightly.
She lowered her head to look at the tea. The amber surface reflected the moonlight, rippling once before settling back into stillness.
Her breathing hitched. It felt as though the heart that had just been fluttering in her chest was being gently held down by something, suspended in midair, unable to settle for a long time.
Bai Qingxue raised the teacup, took a sip, and set it down. The bottom of the cup clicked against the stone surface with a very soft clink.
Only after watching the last wisp of steam from the spout dissipate did Bai Qingxue speak, her voice slightly hoarser than before.
“Senior Sister Lu, when I was breaking through just now, I saw some things.”
Hearing this, Lu Xueqing raised her eyes.
Moonlight filtered through the plum branches, casting a small, dense shadow over Bai Qingxue's eyelashes. She looked into those pale eyes; the glow of spiritual energy had already subsided, leaving behind only a deep, quiet pool.
“What did you see?” Lu Xueqing asked.
Bai Qingxue fell silent for a moment.
She lowered her eyes, her gaze falling on her own reflection in the tea before drifting away. She shook her head. “I'm not sure yet.”
Just a few short words.
Yet Lu Xueqing did not press further.
She brought her cup to her lips and took a sip. The tea was already lukewarm. It slid down her throat, but it could not warm the suspended spot in her heart.
Was Junior Sister Bai hiding something?
The two drank two cups of tea in silence.
The tea in the pot gradually emptied. The moonlight shifted to the other side of the plum branches, reversing the direction of their shadows.
The night wind swept over the courtyard wall, carrying the astringent scent of the flower buds, brushing coolly against the side of her neck.
Suddenly, Bai Qingxue reached out.
She reached across the stone table, her palm facing down, and covered the back of Lu Xueqing's hand resting on the tabletop.
Bai Qingxue's fingers were still ice-cold as they rested on Lu Xueqing's skin.
She didn't apply any pressure, simply keeping her hand covered over the other. Her outstretched fingertips rested on the edges of Lu Xueqing's knuckles, like a leaf gently landing on the surface of the water.
“Senior Sister Lu, why is your hand so warm?” Bai Qingxue asked.
Lu Xueqing froze instantly. Her blood felt as if it had been pinned to the table by that hand, and she didn't even dare to twitch a finger.
She feared that if she moved, that hand would suddenly retract like a startled bird, never to rest there again.
Lu Xueqing looked down at Bai Qingxue's fingers. Moonlight filtered through the gaps between them, casting dappled shadows on the back of her hand.
Those fingers were slender and well-defined. The thin layer of old calluses on her finger pads gleamed with a faint, matte luster under the moonlight—marks left by years of wielding a sword.
This hand had once shielded her, had once tensed rigidly against a sword hilt, and had once silently steadied her mind.
And now, it lay over the back of her hand.
Lu Xueqing's throat bobbed. Her voice was so soft it seemed as if it would disperse with a gentle breeze. “It's not warm at all.”
She did not pull her hand away.
Bai Qingxue's fingertips twitched ever so slightly against the back of her hand, as if confirming something.
Then, that hand remained covered over hers, neither adding pressure nor moving away.
Between them, only the soft rustling of the night wind and the plum branches remained, along with the thin yet reassuring warmth between palm and back of hand.
The moonlight shifted, falling upon the crackle lines of the teapot. A tiny pool of moonlight gathered within the cracks, like an eye refusing to close, silently watching the two hands by the stone table.
The buds were still buds, hanging rigidly on the branches.
Yet Lu Xueqing felt that the warmth in her palm was more real than a whole tree of blooming flowers.
Because this warmth would never be taken away again.
At least, it shouldn't be...
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