Chapter 5: The Distance Between One Courtyard

The morning light was faint, and the horizon glimmered with fish-belly white.

The thin mist in the courtyard had not yet fully dissipated, like a layer of soft gauze enveloping every blade of grass and tree.

Dew clung to the tips of grass, refracting the newborn daylight—crystal clear, on the verge of falling yet lingering still.

The air was crisp, carrying the damp and cool freshness of post-rain, with a subtle fragrance of freshly turned earth and tender osmanthus leaves.

Xiaoxiao woke up early.

Her footsteps on the slightly damp stone slabs were nearly soundless, as if afraid to disturb the heavy atmosphere in the courtyard.

In the kitchen, wisps of white smoke rose.

She carefully prepared two identical servings of plain porridge and side dishes—the rice freshly milled, the vegetables just picked from the backyard.

Even the white porcelain bowls were scalded three times with hot water.

When she carried them out on the tray, a faint trace of nervousness lingered in her fingertips.

At the stone table, she placed the two breakfasts three feet apart, cautiously arranging them.

Left and right, clear boundaries, as if divided by Chu and Han.

She hesitated for a moment, then placed the chopsticks at the most convenient spot—a silent gesture of care, the only thing she could do.

After finishing, she retreated under the corridor, hands folded before her, standing quietly, her breathing barely audible.

Ye Chen had long been sitting cross-legged beneath the newly planted osmanthus tree in the courtyard.

He sat with closed eyes, motionless as a mountain.

The first ray of morning sunlight pierced the mist, gently falling on his slender shoulders, merging him seamlessly with nature.

He seemed less like a “person,” and more like a stone, a blade of grass, a natural part of the morning scene.

No one knew how much time had passed before the door of the eastern wing creaked open from within.

Xiao Liuli emerged.

She still wore plain white clothes and that cold, black iron mask.

Her gaze didn’t linger in the courtyard—she walked straight to the stone table.

She saw the two breakfasts, and the silent figure sitting not far away.

Without hesitation, she picked up her share, and without pulling out the stone bench, turned and walked back to her room, carrying it in hand.

The door closed quietly once more.

From appearance to departure, the entire process was silent, leaving not the slightest ripple.

She didn’t look at Ye Chen, nor at Xiaoxiao in the corridor.

All the while, beneath the osmanthus tree, Ye Chen’s eyelids didn’t even flicker.

He perfectly upheld the agreement of “non-interference,” treating her as if she didn’t exist.

This kind of disregard—or perhaps indifference—was itself a silent statement.

Under the corridor, Xiaoxiao lowered her head gently, letting out a helpless sigh.

—

The sun rose higher, dispersing the mist and warming the courtyard.

Xiaoxiao was hanging freshly washed clothes to dry.

A sudden gust of Wind Manipulation swept through, making a corner of the garment flap wildly, threatening to tear it from the bamboo pole.

With a cry of surprise, Xiaoxiao tiptoed and hurriedly reached out to grab it.

At that moment, Ye Chen, who had been sitting silently, opened his eyes ever so slightly.

There was no fluctuation of Spirit Power, no extra movement.

Yet, in that instant, the wild wind seemed to hit an invisible wall before the clothesline, instantly softening and gently returning the garment’s edge to the bamboo pole.

Outside the courtyard wall, the wind howled on; within, peace was restored.

Xiaoxiao barely caught the fabric, finding it odd, and muttered, “Why did the wind come and go so quickly?”

She didn’t dwell on it.

Inside the eastern wing, Xiao Liuli sat cross-legged, circulating her energy, struggling to resist the “Nine Nether Cold Evil” eroding her body with the last traces of Spirit Power.

She, too, sensed the sudden wind.

But what struck her more was the discordant feeling in the moment the wind abruptly stopped in the courtyard—a sense of order that didn’t belong here.

Her frozen senses seemed to catch a fleeting glimpse of something not of this place.

Was it an illusion?

She slowly opened her eyes and looked through the window’s lattice toward the courtyard.

In the sunlight, that slender figure sat as before, tranquil and unremarkable.

Xiao Liuli’s brows knit imperceptibly, then relaxed.

Just a mortal with no Spirit Power fluctuations.

Perhaps the courtyard’s layout simply blocked the wind.

Her unsettled heart had conjured such absurd illusions.

She closed her eyes again, mind sinking inward, continuing her battle with the bone-clinging cold poison.

—

Night fell like ink, but the moon hung high, its pale light covering the courtyard in a sheen of frost.

The door of the eastern wing opened once more.

Xiao Liuli stepped out, standing beneath the moon.

The night wind swept her robes, making her frail figure seem even lonelier.

She raised her head, gazing at the cold moon through her mask.

How long had it been since she’d looked at the moon like this?

Memories surged quietly.

Once, she too had been the Heaven’s Chosen Daughter surrounded by stars, the Palm Jewel of the Xiao Family.

She remembered the night of her thirteenth birthday banquet, when Qingyang City was lit like a dragon, renowned guests celebrating her, her father’s eyes proud with joy.

She remembered, during the Clan Competition, how her sword flashed like lightning—its light sharp as autumn water—drawing admiration and awe.

Back then, even the moonlight seemed gentle, full of hope.

Now, only dead silence remained.

Mockery, pity, alienation—those familiar faces were now blurred and distant.

The world remained noisy, but none of it had anything to do with her.

Her fingertips cold, she slowly touched her cheek.

“Click.”

A faint mechanism sound—she removed the heavy, cold black iron mask.

Moonlight fell unimpeded onto her face.

It was not a face ruined by fire or poison.

On the contrary—

It was a beauty that stole breath.

Jade-like skin, exquisite features, brows arched like distant mountains, lips as red as cinnabar.

Especially under the moon’s pale radiance, she seemed otherworldly—like a fairy from the Palace of Eternal Cold descending to the mortal world, carrying loneliness, distance, and an unspoken fragility.

Only her eyes, which should have sparkled like starlight, were now as dark as a bottomless abyss.

“Three years…”

She whispered, barely audible, as if to herself, or to the cold moon.

She recalled the words of the only elder in her clan still willing to speak truth to her.

“Liuli, three years from now, an elder of the Qingyun Holy Land will personally come to Qingyang City to select disciples.

This is your only chance. In these three years, you must do whatever it takes to expel the cold poison and return to the Dao Path…or your life will truly be ruined.”

Three years.

This marriage was the three years she bought for herself—three years free from anyone’s interference.

And Ye Chen…this “useless one,” was the best Shield she could have chosen.

When her task was complete, the engagement would end.

After that, the sky would be high, the sea wide, and the great Dao hers alone—no more entanglements.

She lowered her gaze, long lashes casting a faint shadow on her face.

The plan was flawless.

The choice, rational and correct.

She donned the mask once more, hiding her peerless beauty and fleeting vulnerability.

Her gaze drifted to the tightly shut window of the western wing.

Inside, darkness—no light, no sound.

As if no one existed within.

This comforting “nonexistence” finally eased a tension that had always wound tightly in Xiao Liuli’s heart.