The moon had risen higher now, drifting among the silver-edged clouds like a silent sentinel.
Inside one of the guest chambers granted to the Lingxiao Clan, Ling Yiran lay sprawled on a pristine futon, arms crossed behind his head, one leg dangling off the edge like a child sulking after being scolded. His usually bright eyes stared up at the wooden ceiling beams, but his thoughts were far from still.
No matter how he turned, shifted, or fluffed his pillow, the image of Jin Suoxue kneeling in that cold hall, back bared and bleeding, kept intruding into his mind.
"Tsk."
He sat up abruptly, his long messy hair falling across his face. "That stupid ice block… why didn't he say anything? Why didn't he blame me?" he muttered, tugging at his own sleeves. "Fifty lashes... is he made of stone or something?"
A deep sigh escaped him.
He got up from his bed and paced barefoot across the wooden floor, the soft creak of the polished wood echoing in the quiet room. He glanced outside the paper window. Moonlight washed over the Jinyue Clan grounds — pristine, still, and cold.
He was still pacing when a soft voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Young Master of Lingxiao, you're still awake?"
Yiran turned sharply.
A tall, elegant figure stood by the doorway, bathed in moonlight. His robe was white embroidered with silver threads, and unlike Suoxue's cold presence, this man radiated warmth — like the morning sun on snow.
It was Jin Lianhua, the older brother of Jin Suoxue. Though not as publicly feared or worshipped as Suoxue, Lianhua was beloved among disciples for his gentleness, elegance, and calm smile.
Yiran straightened awkwardly. "Senior Jin!"
Lianhua stepped inside gracefully, hands folded behind his back. "I apologize for disturbing your rest."
"I... I wasn't really sleeping," Yiran muttered, glancing aside. "I—uh—couldn't."
"Hmm," Lianhua chuckled, clearly knowing more than he let on. "Understandable."
There was a beat of silence. Yiran cleared his throat.
Lianhua's smile widened faintly as he turned to leave, but then paused. "If you're... restless, perhaps a walk would help."
Yiran blinked.
"You'll find a staircase at the back of this mountain," Lianhua continued casually, his tone light and knowing. "At the top, there's a large cave. My younger brother is there."
Yiran's brows furrowed. "What's he doing there in the middle of the night?"
"There's a spring within," Lianhua replied. "A healing pool with water blessed by ancient jade spirit stones. It's cold, but good for recovery… especially after, say, fifty lashes."
Yiran flinched.
Lianhua turned his head slightly, studying him with a teasing glint. "Just in case you were wondering. Of course, I know you're not worried about him."
"Wha—ME?!" Yiran's ears turned red. "A-as if I care about that frozen stick of tofu! H-he got himself punished! Not my fault!"
Lianhua laughed softly, a melodic sound. "Whatever you say, Young Master Ling."
With that, he bowed slightly and made his way down the corridor, robes fluttering behind him.
Yiran was left standing alone, arms still flailing from his protest.
"Stupid. Why would I care?" he muttered, turning to face the window. "Cold-blooded icicle… he's always glaring and lecturing me... acting like a thousand-year-old grandma…"
His voice trailed off.
Then… his legs began to move on their own.
"…Tch. I'll just… I'm just going to see the healing water. Not him."
———
The back of the mountain was eerily quiet.
Yiran's breath fogged in the crisp night air as he climbed the long, stone staircase that curled around the cliffside. The sky above was dotted with stars. Owls hooted from the distance. Somewhere behind the fog, water trickled gently.
Eventually, he found the cave.
A huge arched entrance, glowing faintly with spiritual runes, stood at the summit. Inside, light-blue mist swirled lazily, infused with the scent of clean water and moss.
The moment he stepped in, the temperature dropped.
"Haa… it's freezing!" Yiran hugged himself as he walked forward, following the sound of water.
The spring was nestled inside a hollow chamber of smooth stone, with glowing moss along the walls and a soft waterfall trickling down from a crack above. The pool itself shimmered like liquid moonlight.
And there, seated waist-deep in the water, back to him, was Jin Suoxue.
His long, damp black hair clung to his pale skin. His robe hung on a rock nearby, and his lean form was partly hidden by steam and moonlight. Red welts ran across his back — clean, but raw.
Yiran froze.
He hadn't expected… all this.
"…Tch."
He turned to go — but slipped on a wet rock.
Splash!
The water rippled violently. Suoxue turned.
"…You," he said in that flat, cold voice.
Yiran surfaced, coughing and flailing. "AACK—Why is it so deep?! Do you live in an ice bath?!"
"What are you doing here?" Suoxue asked, narrowing his eyes. His tone wasn't welcoming.
"I—nothing!" Yiran huffed, swimming toward the edge. "I was just walking. Got lost. Fell. That's all!"
"You 'fell' into a sacred healing pool."
Yiran grabbed a towel and wrapped it around himself, shivering. "Like I'd come here because of you. Who'd want to see someone as cold as a grave?"
Suoxue stared at him for a long second… then turned away again. "Then leave."
Yiran opened his mouth, closed it, and then sat on a nearby stone, dripping.
Neither spoke.
The silence stretched… but strangely, it didn't feel suffocating.
Finally, Yiran glanced sideways. "…Does it hurt?"
Suoxue didn't reply.
"…It does, doesn't it?" Yiran asked again, softly this time.
Still nothing.
But Yiran caught the faintest twitch in Suoxue's hand, hidden beneath the water.
Then, without thinking, Yiran stood, walked to his robe, and tossed something toward the cold boy.
A talisman. A healing one.
"…I made it earlier. In case my siblings scratched themselves climbing trees or something. Not like I made it for you."
Suoxue caught it effortlessly.
He glanced at it.
Then, for a flicker of a second — just one — the edge of his lips moved. Barely. Not a smile, but… not a glare either.
Yiran looked away quickly.
"…I'll go now. Enjoy your ice bath, Snowflake."
He stomped off with as much pride as a soaking wet boy in slippers could manage.
Suoxue watched him go.
Only after Yiran had vanished down the stone steps did Suoxue whisper, quietly to himself—
"…Thank you."