Chapter 59 : Beneath the Snow
The practice field was quiet in the early dawn light, bathed in pale silver. Snow clung to every surface, softening the lines of the stone pavilions and training poles, turning them into shadows beneath frost. Only two figures stood in the white expanse—Chen Xinyu and Hua Ling, closer than formality permitted, closer than either of them had quite admitted.
Hua Ling's hand was on Xinyu's waist, steadying his stance. His eyes, sharp with concentration, traced the line of Xinyu's posture. But Xinyu's eyes had wandered—to the curve of Hua Ling's lips, to the breath that left faint warmth in the winter air between them.
He blinked, then looked away, heart skipping. His face flushed, though from cold or something else, he couldn't tell. I really am a pervert, he thought bitterly. Why do I keep staring at his lips? If he finds out, he'll chop my head off for sure.
Hua Ling withdrew his hand. His gaze was colder than the snow.
"You still don't remember, do you," he said flatly. "Forget it."
With that, he turned on his heel, walking off the field without looking back.
Xinyu scratched the back of his head, baffled. "Is… he mad at me?"
He sighed heavily. Somewhere behind him, snow slipped from a roof with a soft thud, but the weight in his chest lingered.
The hunting contest arrived under a sky brushed with cloud, with red silk banners fluttering against white mountain peaks. Every disciple was present, dressed in layers of fur and competition sashes. The sect leader sat in his pavilion with the other masters, watching from above as the disciples lined up at the edge of the forest.
Lu Rourou cheered for Lan Xueyao, who already had her eye on a magnificent snow deer. Lingque clutched a roasted sweet potato, muttering that Chen Xinyu had better win or he'd never hear the end of it. Qingze, who never spoke of hopes, quietly wished success for Yan Zheng. Even Mochen had come to watch, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Chi Ruyan stood off to the side, her gaze flicking between the snowy trees and Hua Ling's silent figure.
Then the whistle blew, and they were off—each disciple vanishing into the forest on their own path.
Xinyu walked with lazy steps, dragging his feet through the snow like a disgruntled cat. He had his bow and arrows, but his spirit lagged behind. The air was sharp, biting at his cheeks. "This is stupid," he muttered. "What am I even doing out here? I should be by the fire eating dumplings…"
Somewhere ahead, Lan Xueyao knelt with focused grace, tracking her deer like a phantom.
Yan Zheng moved with caution, scanning for movement.
Hua Ling didn't care about the hunt. He had wandered deeper into the woods, thoughts clouded by annoyance. He said he missed me. That drunken confession outside the restaurant still echoed in his mind—but now Xinyu acted like nothing had happened.
"I hate you, Chen Xinyu," he said aloud.
As if summoned by the curse, Xinyu appeared, clinging awkwardly to a tree. He was halfway up the trunk, legs wrapped around it like a stubborn squirrel.
"What are you doing?" Hua Ling shouted.
"None of your business, Your Highness!" Xinyu yelled back, clearly irritated.
Hua Ling narrowed his eyes. He wasn't in the mood to argue—but neither was he going to let this go.
The two stared at each other across a patch of snowy clearing. Then, a low growl echoed.
Hua Ling stiffened. "Move."
A massive bear crashed through the trees, snow scattering. Xinyu drew an arrow immediately, aiming for the eye. But before he could shoot, Hua Ling yanked him back by the collar.
"I saw it first!" Xinyu protested.
"You'll get yourself killed."
They broke into a scuffle, hands flying, not quite serious but not entirely playful either. Like a dance they hadn't rehearsed, but both knew by instinct. Xinyu flipped behind Hua Ling, who blocked his attack with a flick of the wrist. A palm met shoulder, a breath caught, a hand pressed against a tree.
The bear fled, forgotten.
"Your Highness ruined my chance," Xinyu said breathlessly.
"Then go cry about it," Hua Ling replied, pinning his wrist.
Their breath misted between them.
Xinyu's voice was low. "If you're mad at me, just say it."
Hua Ling smirked. "Mad? You're not in your right mind. Don't drink so much next time, fool."
Xinyu looked away. If you don't care, why do you keep looking at me? he thought. You have a fiancée. You're going back to the capital. What am I, to you?
Hua Ling released him.
They walked side by side, snow crunching beneath their boots. Neither said a word.
Then Xinyu's foot slipped. He stumbled toward the edge of a snowy cliff.
"Watch out—!" Hua Ling grabbed him, but his balance gave way too.
They fell.
Rolling through snow and air, limbs tangled, their fall only stopped when they hit the bottom slope. Xinyu ended up above Hua Ling, hands braced on either side of his head.
The moment froze.
Then, an avalanche of snow followed.
Hua Ling acted fast—arms around Xinyu, pulling him close. They were swallowed together by white.
When they emerged, drenched and coughing, Xinyu whispered, "That was my fault…"
"No use worrying now," Hua Ling muttered. "We're lost."
"They'll come find us, right?"
"Eventually," Hua Ling said. "If we don't freeze to death first."
They found a shallow cave and made camp. Hua Ling went to find wood. Xinyu, shivering, stayed behind. He wasn't sure what scared him more—the cold or being alone with Hua Ling like this, after everything.
When Hua Ling returned, he made a fire with practiced ease. Xinyu sat quietly, watching him.
"You sure know how to survive," he said, trying to break the silence.
"Everyone does," Hua Ling said. "Except you."
"I could survive!"
"Mm."
Silence again.
Xinyu couldn't hold it anymore. "Why are you mad at me?"
Hua Ling didn't look up. "Think about it."
I don't know how to think about things like this, Xinyu thought miserably.
He made a little punching gesture behind Hua Ling's back.
He reached his hands toward the fire, warming them.
"Your hands are cold too," he said. "Warm them up."
"Why do you care?" Hua Ling asked, eyes opening.
Xinyu stammered. "I—I don't know, just…"
Hua Ling leaned in slightly, hand hovering. "Then warm them up for me."
Xinyu froze.
Then, nervously, he took both of Hua Ling's hands and cupped them, blowing warm breath onto his chilled fingers.
Hua Ling just watched him.
"You really don't remember, do you?" he said softly. "That night at the restaurant."
Xinyu froze mid-breath.
A memory flickered—red silk lanterns, wine too sweet, his own voice slurring: "I missed you… Ling Ling…"
His face turned red. "That was— I—"
Hua Ling interrupted him.
"I wanted to say," he said quietly, "that I missed you too."
The fire crackled.
Xinyu couldn't breathe.
Then—"Over here! We found them!"
Voices. Torches.
Snow crunched as the search party arrived, led by Lingque and Yan Zheng.
Xinyu and Hua Ling looked up at the same time, their faces lit in amber light, their hearts still wrapped in a silence more deafening than any avalanche.