Snow still blanketed the Gobi Desert that early morning. As usual, I woke up slightly earlier than Xiao Huan, boiled water for washing up, and went to feed hay to the horses in the temporary tent we’d set up beneath the sandstone cliff.

For convenience, while working, I hadn’t put on my outer robe. As I returned from the stable, I hurried toward the carriage.

The snow was deep. By chance, I noticed a footprint in my path. Though it wasn’t deep and barely visible against the pure white snow, it was fresh—the falling snowflakes hadn’t yet had time to cover its traces.

The footprint wasn’t mine—it was much larger than my foot, and Xiao Huan hadn’t come out yet… so it had to belong to someone else.

I had no time to think further. A fierce gust of wind suddenly came from behind the sandstone cliff. Acting on instinct, I dodged to the side as a long sword barely grazed my shoulder.

The sword’s force stirred up the falling snow. The snow layer beside me suddenly split as a steel staff swept past my feet amid flying snow. The staff struck my ankle through my leather boot. A sharp pain shot through me, and I lost my balance, falling toward the snowy ground.

At that moment, I heard a tremendous explosion. The carriage not far away transformed into a dazzling fireball, waves of heat rushing toward us as the carriage’s debris scattered chaotically with the snowflakes.

My face pressed against the cold snow as a burning snow fox fur robe fell before me with a “hiss.”

A thought flashed through my mind like lightning: Xiao Huan was still in the carriage.

I scrambled up and ran like a madman toward the burning carriage wreckage, but suddenly the steel staff pressed down on my shoulder, throwing my body back into the snow. Fine snow particles invaded my nostrils and eyes.

I kicked the leg of the person holding me down with the staff. He grunted in pain, his grip loosening slightly. I seized the opportunity to sweep my hand horizontally, stirring up a cloud of snow. Through the flying snow, I slipped past the staff and jumped up, ignoring the sword coming from behind as I desperately rushed toward the carriage.

Before I could take a step, an arm suddenly wrapped around my waist. Without thinking, I drove my elbow back toward the person’s chest but stopped the moment I touched their clothes—pure white fox fur and a faint medicinal fragrance. It was Xiao Huan.

Wang Feng cut through the snow curtain, precisely meeting the incoming sword. The long sword silently broke into two pieces as the blue light continued unhindered, slightly rising before sinking into that person’s throat.

Wang Feng withdrew, blood droplets scattered, drawing an alluring red arc through the air.

Before that red arc could fade, the sword light gently returned, already cutting into the next person’s wrist.

The severed hand holding the steel staff flew into the sky along with sprays of blood. Amid piercing screams, the white-robed figure rolled in the snow clutching his arm.

Xiao Huan lightly shook off the blood droplets clinging to Wang Feng, his calm voice carrying a thread of pity: “Master’s Demon-Subduing Staff technique shows fifth-level proficiency. You must hold a fairly high position at Shaolin. Why allow yourself to be used by others?”

As he rolled in the snow, unable to bear the intense pain, the man’s hood fell off, revealing a shaved head with nine burn scars. Hearing Xiao Huan’s words, he frantically tried to bury his head in the snow, hoarsely shouting, “I’m not a Shaolin disciple! I’m not a Shaolin disciple…”

As he shouted, he suddenly leaped up from the snow and violently slammed himself against the sandstone cliff. Blood and brain matter splattered as his body fell stiffly into the snow.

I turned my head away and sighed in relief, unable to suppress a shiver as I hugged Xiao Huan.

He also turned away, not looking at the corpse, gave a light cough, and tucked Wang Feng into his sleeve before patting my shoulder gently. “Where are you hurt?”

I moved my ankle—though it hurt, nothing was broken, and I could still walk. The Shaolin monk who had wielded the staff must have held back.

I shook my head, and Xiao Huan seemed to relax, releasing his arm from my waist before bending over, pressing his chest as he coughed softly.

Only then did I notice the black gunpowder marks on his pure white fox fur robe and his disheveled black hair. I quickly supported him: “How are you? Are you injured?”

He smiled and shook his head: “It’s nothing, just the aftershock of the gunpowder blast. I’ll be fine after regulating my breath.”

I nodded, remembering the violent blast when the carriage exploded: “Such powerful gunpowder—have the Jiangnan Thunder Hall people arrived?”

Xiao Huan nodded: “The three people who ambushed around the carriage were all from the Lei family of Thunder Hall.”

I looked again at the swordsman lying in the snow nearby. His sword was narrow and flat, with the South Sea School’s emblem carved on its spine.

It was strange that our attackers came from three traditionally unconnected groups: Shaolin, South Sea School, and the Lei family of Thunder Hall.

Xiao Huan also frowned in thought before his expression cleared. He coughed softly a few times, then smiled at me: “Now that we’ve been found, we shouldn’t stay any longer.”

I glanced at the carriage burned to the wreckage and smiled bitterly. With no food or shelter left, even if I wanted to stay, we couldn’t.

Everything in the carriage had been destroyed by the explosion. Most items we could do without, but even the medicine Master Li had left for Xiao Huan had been blown to powder without a trace. Fortunately, I always kept my dagger tucked in my boot, or I’d have been left without even a weapon.

The stove behind the sandstone cliff had surprisingly survived the explosion, and a pot of water was still heating nicely. I found a water skin on one of the corpses, filled it with hot water, then took an outer robe from another body and put it on. With that, our preparations were complete.

While I did this, Xiao Huan stood waiting, still occasionally coughing softly, likely from his qi being disturbed by the gunpowder blast.

I mounted my horse and took the reins of the other horse, but instead of offering them to Xiao Huan, I extended my hand to him: “Come up.”

He looked at me with some surprise. I patted the space on the saddle in front of me: “Sit here.”

He looked at the spot, hesitating for a moment. I leaned down, grabbed his hand, and pulled him up without argument: “In your condition, you’d probably fall off halfway if you rode alone. We’ll ride together and switch horses when this one tires.”

Having been pulled onto the horse and settled in front of me, he just smiled without moving.

I instructed: “Tell me if the horse’s gait becomes uncomfortable and we’ll stop to rest. If you’re tired, lean on my shoulder to sleep, don’t force yourself, alright?”

He made a sound of agreement: “Your shoulder’s too low to lean on.”

I was suddenly at a loss for words. I was indeed quite a bit shorter than him, and now with him sitting in front of me while I had to lean around his shoulder to see the road ahead, our position looked less like I was carrying him and more like he was carrying me.

I cleared my throat, trying to sound more authoritative: “Then let’s head…”

He calmly finished my sentence: “Southwest. We need to go southwest.” He adjusted the reins slightly, “This way.”

I felt even more deflated and couldn’t help asking: “How do you know which way is southwest? How do you know we need to go southwest?”

“The winds in the wilderness follow patterns. Watch them for a few days, and you’ll naturally know the directions,” he answered with a smile. “As for why southwest, the road we were on has the Turpan Basin to the south and only desert to the north. A desert is reachable within half a night’s journey—there’s only one such place. We’re probably in the Gobi Desert northeast of Bogda Peak. This stretch of desert isn’t very large. It took those people three days to find us here, thanks to the heavy snow.”

I was completely speechless. After a long moment, I managed to mutter: “A male consort doesn’t need to be this capable…”

He laughed out loud: “Is that so?” He continued laughing, “Time is short, let’s hurry.”

I nodded and quickly urged the horse forward, but still had questions: “Are there many people searching for us in this desert? That explosion will surely attract anyone nearby.” After thinking for a moment, I asked: “What did you mean by three days?”

His answer drifted back from in front: “From the small town where we stayed that night to the camp of various martial arts schools gathered at the foot of Bogda Peak is at most a two-day journey. Su Qian can only keep up appearances for those two days. Once they reach the camp and discover I’m gone, the news can’t be contained. They’ll quickly mobilize forces to search along our route. We’ve been in the desert for five days—subtract those two days, and you get three.”

No wonder he had only been anxious the first two days and then completely relaxed. As I thought about this, I broke into a cold sweat—thankfully he had stopped wanting to leave these past two days, so I’d stopped blocking his pressure points. Otherwise, in a situation like just now, with Xiao Huan’s inner power sealed…

Just thinking about it made me break out in a cold sweat. I shook my head, hearing Xiao Huan’s voice drift back faintly: “How many will come? The horse tracks we’ve left won’t be covered by snow. More and more people will follow them… We don’t have time to waste with them… Hopefully, we won’t need much bloodshed…” Speaking into the wind, his voice became interspersed with coughs, his body trembling slightly.

I tightened my arms, holding his waist more securely: “A male consort doesn’t need to think about so much. Be good and rest quietly, for now, let me handle things temporarily.”

He seemed to smile, giving a soft sound of agreement as he let more of his weight rest against my arms.

I squeezed the horse’s flanks, and the steed galloped forward at greater speed. Snowflakes flew into our faces under the gloomy sky, dancing and whirling. The Gobi Desert lay pure and beautiful under its thick blanket of snow, but I knew that neither the snowy plains behind us nor the area ahead near Bogda Peak would remain peaceful.

I drove the horse at full gallop, but even though this mount was one in a hundred, carrying two people through the snow was beginning to slow it down.

Ready to switch horses, I spoke to Xiao Huan, who had been resting quietly against my shoulder: “Shall we change horses?”

No answer. Had he fallen asleep? I turned to look at him.

His eyes were closed, head slightly lowered, the wide hood shading his forehead. His long eyelashes cast tiny shadows beneath his eyes, and below that, his skin was almost as white as the fox fur. His thin lips were pressed together, tinged with an almost imperceptible pink. A hexagonal snowflake had found its way through the fur’s fibers to rest on his eyelash tip, not melting.

I unconsciously held my breath, as if before me was a sculpture carved from ice and snow that might dissolve into drifting snow at the slightest disturbance.

Time seemed to stretch on forever before I finally had to release my breath. He still hadn’t moved. Another snowflake flew in to join the first, both perched on his thick, long lashes.

I freed one hand from the reins and reached inside the fox fur to grasp his hand. His fingers were slightly curled, cold as jade.

I gripped his hand tightly and leaned close to his cheek: “Brother Xiao…”

Without any warning, his eyes suddenly opened, misty deep pupils carrying a faint smile: “Alright, let’s switch.”

I took a deep breath, my face suddenly warming—I had gotten too close, my lips almost touching his cheek.

Since it was already awkward, I took another deep breath and decided to simply close my eyes and kiss his thin lips before pulling away and tightening the reins to stop the horse.

I dismounted first, then offered my arm to Xiao Huan. As he held my hand to dismount, he started coughing as soon as he stood in the snow. Once started, he couldn’t stop, continuing until he doubled over and coughed up blood onto the snow.

I supported him while taking out a handkerchief to wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth, stamping my foot in frustration: “This won’t do. You know the prescription for the medicine Master Li gave you, right? Once we’re out of the desert and meet up with Su Qian and the others, we must prepare more.”

He gave a soft sound of agreement, holding onto the saddle and coughing softly with his eyes closed.

I reached inside his collar beneath the fox fur robe, half-embracing him as I rubbed his back to help his breathing. Through the thin fabric, his shoulder blades felt sharp against my palm—he had truly become thin. I freed my other hand to gently massage his chest, letting him rest his body against my shoulder.

I recalled Master Li Mingshang once saying that due to long-term damage, Xiao Huan’s heart and lungs were much weaker than normal people’s. Even slight exhaustion or disruption of his inner energy would cause him to cough blood. Ironically, trying to transfer spiritual energy to him at such times would only cause more harm, so he could only rely on gentle medicinal treatments.

With no medicine at hand, I could only rub his back and chest to make him slightly more comfortable.

After a while, his coughing subsided somewhat and he opened his eyes, smiling at me: “It’s fine now, Cangsong. Clear away some snow and see if there are any plants underneath.”

I nodded in agreement, helping him lean against the horse before crouching down to dig through the thick snow. Beneath the snow was the grey desert ground. Besides the camel thorn with its needle-like leaves standing upright, there were scattered patches of yellowed grass emerging from between the gravel. Thanks to the snow’s irrigation, the hundred li around Tianshan were rich pastureland—we weren’t far from the grasslands beyond the Gobi Desert.

I nodded: “Yes, there’s some grass besides the camel thorn.”

He nodded: “Let’s mount up and continue southwest.”

I agreed, knowing that although we hadn’t encountered any enemies yet, pursuers could catch up at any moment. Seeing Xiao Huan had nothing else to say, I mounted the horse.

After mounting, I thought for a moment. Having Xiao Huan sit behind me would shelter him from the wind and snow, but I worried he might not be able to hold onto me securely and might fall off during our gallop. Moreover, while I could better guard against enemies approaching from the front, he would be vulnerable to darts or arrows from behind if he sat in the back. After considering this, I reached down and wrapped an arm around his waist: “Sit sideways.”

Xiao Huan, half-pulled into my embrace onto the horse, looked at his position sitting sideways in my arms and couldn’t help laughing: “When Kumor taught me to ride, he also had me sit in front of him like this.”

I kept a stern face: “A male consort should act like one.”

Without further delay, I cracked the whip against the horse’s rump, and we galloped swiftly into the heavy snow.

Though snowflakes could still find their way through gaps in the fox fur robe, at least the bitter wind wouldn’t blow directly against his chest now.

Once again, Xiao Huan leaned against my shoulder with closed eyes to rest as soon as he was mounted. While I remained anxiously alert for attackers suddenly emerging from the snow, he seemed completely at ease.

Thinking this, I still reached to pull his fox fur robe tighter around him, drawing his head to rest on my shoulder. The position was a bit awkward, but having something to lean against should let him sleep better.

As I did this, I caught a slight quirk at the corner of Xiao Huan’s mouth, and his breath grew heavier against my neck.

I quickly wrapped my arm around his waist, about to ask if he was uncomfortable when his voice sounded by my ear: “How have I suddenly fallen from master to male consort…”

His voice carried an unprecedented languor, his warm breath tickling my earlobe.

I moved my hand from his waist to cup his chin: “What, am I not allowed to betray and abandon my master?”

He laughed softly, mixed with light coughs: “Taking such a disciple—it seems my luck truly is poor.”

I gave a light snort: “It’s too late to regret it now!”

He made a soft sound of agreement, his coughing gradually subsiding as his voice grew quieter: “Yes, too late.”

He fell silent then, resting against my shoulder as his breathing slowly steadied, seeming to fall asleep.

After another half-watch of travel, we still hadn’t encountered any pursuers, but the heavy snow obscured our vision. Snowflakes fell like goose feathers in thick clumps until even the path ahead began to blur.

As we rode, perhaps my eyes were playing tricks, but I thought I saw a white spot flicker in the snow ahead. Yet when I looked more carefully, there were only chaotic snowflakes flying through my field of vision—the white spot seemed to have vanished.

Were people waiting to ambush us ahead? Should I wake Xiao Huan?

While I hesitated, the white spots ahead suddenly moved again—not just one, but many. Two, three, more than five white spots moving rapidly across our path.

An extremely fine, sharp sound rang out as countless white spots emerged from beneath the snow like countless waves surging in a snow-white tide. Beneath the snow-colored waves, the brown of horses appeared, rushing forward like a group of ghosts, swift and silent. This group of white-clad figures that had suddenly emerged from the snow was closing in on us.

I abruptly released the reins, pulling my arms back to hold Xiao Huan tightly as I quickly drew my dagger and cocked it one-handed. I was about to fire the first bullet at the leader whose features I could now clearly see.

Suddenly a pair of hands cold as jade covered mine. Xiao Huan pressed my hands down and took up the reins, pulling them tight. Our horse wheeled sideways, its hooves sinking deep into the snow as we came to a stop.

As if in response, the oncoming riders pulled up half a zhang away. The lead rider in white dismounted, and those following did the same, stepping forward with him to bow with clasped hands.

After completing the greeting, the white-clad figure raised his head with a smile: “We subordinates have been respectfully awaiting the Palace Master here for some time.”

Only then did I clearly see the face beneath the hood—ice-blue eyes cool and clear, handsome features equally cool, even the slight smile at his lips was cool. It was Nie Hanrong.

Those bewitching ice-blue eyes that rivaled Xiao Qianqing’s swept over me as he quirked his lips in a light smile: “Isn’t this Miss Ling, the Palace Master’s new favorite?”

His way of saying “new favorite” grated on my ears. I coughed dryly, unsure how to respond, when Xiao Huan gently removed my arm from his waist and dismounted: “You’ve worked hard, waiting here in the snow.”

“Thank you for your concern, Palace Master.” As soon as he addressed Xiao Huan, Nie Hanrong’s slight smile vanished, his beautiful, feminine features showing no trace of frivolity.

Xiao Huan nodded faintly: “Waiting for me here—the desert’s wind and snow are most corrosive. Many disciples must have frostbitten hands and feet. Remember to seek treatment promptly when we return to camp.”

Nie Hanrong bowed in acknowledgment. While his face remained cool and composed, showing little reaction, the Fenglai Palace disciples behind him had their frozen red faces light up with excitement and gratitude at this simple expression of concern.

Xiao Huan lowered his head, covering his mouth as he coughed several times. Just then, a disciple standing on the outer edge suddenly drew his sword: “Who’s there?”

A yellow figure suddenly darted out from behind a snowbank not far away, fleeing rapidly across the snow plain.

Nie Hanrong gave a cold laugh as silk threads shot from his left hand. A line of blood burst from the yellow figure’s leg as they fell into the snow.

Nie Hanrong flashed to the fallen person’s side. With a light wave of his fingers, threads fine as frost wrapped around the person’s arms. A slight application of force lifted them as the razor-sharp threads cut through leather robes into flesh, quickly staining the yellow robe with lines of blood.

Nie Hanrong pulled the person’s head to chest level, bending slightly as he spoke coolly: “Speak. Who are you? Why are you here?”

The person was already howling in pain, large beads of sweat rolling down their forehead as they hastily answered: “I’m not here to kill Bai Chifan for the ten thousand silver taels—I’m just scouting! The ones coming to kill him are behind us…” They began howling again.

Nie Hanrong smiled slightly, lifting them higher: “And who are these people coming to claim the bounty on the Palace Master’s head?”

The person was now facing Nie Hanrong’s eyes directly. Seeing that smile, they seemed to have seen a ghost. Whether from pain or something else, their whole body suddenly trembled and their howls quieted: “He Ruyu of Kunlun Sect, Shen Wei of Wudang Sect, the three chiefs of Western Qitian Fortress, the Blue Robed Cult of Miao Territory… that’s all I’ve seen… I don’t know of any others…”

“Quite a few people,” Nie Hanrong smiled coldly. “A mob of rabble.”

The person nodded frantically: “Yes, yes…” As they spoke, their yellow-toothed mouth exhaled white breath that puffed into Nie Hanrong’s face.

Nie Hanrong frowned, withdrawing his threads and carelessly tossing the person to the ground.

The man, overjoyed, repeatedly kowtowed: “Thank you, Hall Master Nie, for sparing my life.”

Nie Hanrong shook his sleeve and gave him a cool glance: “You don’t think I’m a fool, do you, ‘Fair Wind Elder’ Shi Zeng? Given your style of never letting opportunities slip to outsiders, would you be content scouting for others? Haven’t your ‘fair wind ears’ heard? When have I ever left anyone alive?”

Shi Zeng’s body stiffened as he lay on the ground. He tried to roll over and flee, but blood suddenly sprayed from his neck. His head, half-hanging from his neck, drooped at an odd angle against his back. His body collapsed into the snow like a puppet with its strings cut.

Only then did I understand: “Someone’s offering ten thousand silver taels for the Palace Master’s head?”

Nie Hanrong nodded: “Where else did you think all these pursuers came from? Forces from all quarters have mobilized—quite a troublesome situation.”

Xiao Huan was still covering his mouth as he coughed. He turned and said: “Let’s return to camp first.”

I nodded and moved to support him, but his body suddenly swayed. He covered his mouth as dark red blood seeped between his fingers, dripping onto the white fox fur robe.

I quickly embraced him, asking anxiously: “How are you?”

He shook his head slightly, using my shoulder to stand straight, presenting an upright back to the Fenglai Palace disciples behind him.

Understanding his intent, I shifted to block him from view, preventing the disciples stationed around us from seeing his vulnerable state.

His body trembled slightly, his breathing rapid and irregular. His chest heaved violently as he continued coughing, yet his spine remained perfectly straight.

In just these few hours, each episode had been worse than the last.

After hastily clearing the battlefield, we headed toward the camp at the foot of Tianshan.

The place wasn’t far from camp, and we finally arrived after an hour’s journey.

The Central Plains martial arts sects’ camp at the foot of Tianshan consisted of a large collection of tent clusters surrounded by wooden palisades.

Fenglai Palace’s tent cluster was situated in the northeast corner, next to the Shaolin and Wudang clusters. It was the largest of all the clusters, and in this campaign against the Tianshan Sect, Fenglai Palace had contributed the most force.

Although Fenglai Palace had suffered considerable losses, its position in the martial arts world—now second only to Shaolin and Wudang—had gradually been accepted by the various sects.

The tent prepared for Xiao Huan was at the center of the Fenglai cluster. Though not large, it was exceptionally thick, with even the doorframe lined with fur.

We dismounted before the tent. Without even waiting to see Su Qian, I quickly helped Xiao Huan inside to rest. He hadn’t been able to sleep the whole way, coughing constantly. Now he leaned on me, placing his full weight on my arm. As soon as I helped him lie down on the couch inside the tent, he lowered his head and coughed up blood.

I hurriedly wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief, supporting him until his breathing steadied somewhat before finally sighing in relief.

After helping him lie properly on the bed, I found paper and brush to hand to him, smiling: “You need more medicine prepared, right? I’m afraid I might mishear, so you’d better write it yourself. What ingredients do you need? Though some herbs might be hard to find here, Su Qian and I will do our best to gather them.”

He nodded, his slender fingers gently caressing the brush handle, then suddenly asked quietly: “Cangsong, are the lamps lit in the tent?”

My hand, about to brush aside the disheveled hair at his temple, froze midair. It wasn’t yet night, but several thick candles had been lit for light. Yet he was asking if the lamps were lit.

Noticing my hesitation, he raised his head slightly and smiled: “It’s nothing, just that things seem a bit dark right now.”

I bent down, cupping his face and gently tilting his head up. Those eyes that had once been as brilliant and deep as the night sky had now turned completely silver-grey. What covered his pupils was no longer a light mist, but heavy lead clouds.

Everything around us fell silent as I held his face, motionless.

He frowned slightly, reaching out his hand. After a pause, it fell on my cheek, and his brow furrowed deeper: “Cangsong, are you crying?”

I pressed my face against his somewhat cold palm, wanting to smile and say it was nothing, but tears kept falling.

His brow relaxed slightly before tightening again. He suddenly released my face and pressed his chest, giving a light cough: “My chest hurts a bit.”

I let out a startled sound, quickly embracing his shoulders and rubbing his chest: “How is it? Does it hurt badly? Is it serious…” I froze, realizing he had never before admitted to being in pain. When asked, his most common response had always been that it was nothing, not serious.

He smiled and patted the back of my hand: “My eyes are really fine. They’ll probably be much better tomorrow, don’t worry.”

I sniffled—my earlier panic had shocked the tears back, but now he was the one comforting me. How useless of me.

I smiled and nodded, taking the paper and brush from his hand and sitting on the couch: “Then you tell me, and I’ll write. Say each character clearly, and there shouldn’t be any mistakes.” I smiled again, “Actually, I wanted to see your handwriting. You write so beautifully, and since my writing is ugly, I love looking at beautiful writing.”

He smiled and leaned back a bit, resting his head on the cushion as he slowly listed the names and quantities of medicinal ingredients needed.

I carefully wrote each one neatly, double-checked them all, then blew the ink dry and folded the paper away. Looking up, I saw Xiao Huan resting against the cushion with closed eyes, seeming somewhat tired.

I stood and walked over to him with a smile: “Want to sleep a while?”

He opened his eyes and nodded with a smile. I smiled back, embracing his head as I removed the cushion and helped him lie down to rest. After he was settled, he smiled at me: “Cangsong, tell Xiao Qian to arrange a banquet tomorrow noon and invite the sect leaders.”

I nodded in agreement and tucked the fur blanket around him before leaving the tent to find Su Qian and give her the prescription.

After she dispatched people to find the herbs, I asked a disciple about Mu Yan’s whereabouts and went to see him.

Though severely injured, Mu Yan wasn’t as bad as I had imagined. He lay in bed with closed eyes, his face peaceful despite its paleness, as if in deep sleep.

I didn’t stay long, returning quickly to Xiao Huan’s tent after checking on him.

Fortunately, with many sects gathered at Tianshan, most had brought some medicinal herbs as backup. Soon, Su Qian had gathered all the needed ingredients and brought them over.

I prepared the medicine and helped Xiao Huan sit up to drink it. By evening, his breathing had deepened considerably, and he slept peacefully.

By the next day, Xiao Huan had improved somewhat. Su Qian had already sent invitations to the various sect leaders for the noon banquet.

Before the lunch banquet, I helped Xiao Huan lean against soft cushions and found a horn comb to dress his hair.

His hair was soft and smooth, like holding a handful of gleaming silk. I dipped the horn comb in hot water and separated some of his hair to fall over his shoulders, gathering the rest into a topknot secured with a white jade ring at the back of his head. I inserted two matching jade hairpins, the small pins securing both ends of the jade ring, with tassel-like jade beads hanging from the pin heads to show just slightly at his ears.

After finishing, I examined him seriously, then nodded: “Beautiful.”

He had been resting against the cushions with half-closed eyes, letting me style him. Now he smiled: “A simple topknot would have been fine. Why such an elaborate style?”

I smiled, playing with a lock of his hair that fell over his shoulder: “Of course, it’s to make you more beautiful—so beautiful that Master Xue Zhen and Daoist Qiusheng will be too enchanted to do anything but agree with what you say.”

He gave a light laugh, having grown used to my teasing these past few days: “That would be nice.”

He smiled again, then continued: “When I meet the sect leaders later, I will appoint you as Fenglai Palace’s Vice-Master in their presence.”

I had thought he was just making casual conversation, not expecting him to make such a formal appointment now. After a moment of surprise, I smiled: “Then should I thank Master for his trust?”

He looked at me with a smile: “With your abilities, you can handle important responsibilities. Don’t worry.”

This morning after he got up, the mist in his eyes had lightened somewhat, not as heavy as last night. Now those black pupils had regained their luster, becoming almost overwhelmingly brilliant.

I smiled at him and held his cold hand.