The mountain was still asleep when Bai Li opened her eyes.
A thin layer of mist hung beyond the carved wooden windows of the private residence, softening the outlines of the pine trees and making the distant peaks look like islands floating in a pale sea. Frost had gathered along the branches overnight. Far below, somewhere past the stone stairs and the outer courtyards, the first disciples of Mount Hua were beginning their morning exercises. Their voices drifted up the mountain in scattered calls, faint enough to sound almost like part of a dream.
Bai Li listened for a while without moving. The room was warm, the quilt was heavy, and the woman sleeping against her was even warmer. One of Yan Cijin's legs had found its way between Bai Li's, and one arm was draped firmly around her waist. A loose strand of dark hair had slipped across Bai Li's cheek. When Bai Li carefully moved it aside, Yan Cijin made a quiet, dissatisfied sound and pulled her closer.
