The road back from Zixiao City wasn’t long.
At Hongxiu’s request, the two did not use the teleportation gate to return to the sect.
Riding their swords, mountains and rivers flowed beneath their feet in blurred ink lines.
Hongxiu’s injuries hadn’t healed, and her spiritual power still ran sluggishly, so she flew slowly.
Ye Chen also slowed down, walking side by side with her, their robes making faint flapping sounds in the wind and clouds.
Along the way, Hongxiu spoke more than usual.
She would point to a mortal city below, reminiscing how she had once bought a string of candied hawthorns in such streets as a child; or she would pass by a peak blooming with unknown wildflowers, her eyes showing a hint of longing.
Her profile looked vivid and bright under the shifting light of drifting clouds.
Sometimes, she would turn her head, smiling, and ask Ye Chen trivial questions—like whether he preferred the Sword Training Ground at dawn or the Star Gazing Platform at dusk.
She had held his arm when leaving the Lin residence, and he had removed her hand.
Yet none of these things seemed to leave any trace on her face.
In Ye Chen’s mind, perhaps this was just a form of deepened karma between fellow cultivators, an impulsive moment.
He didn’t notice that the gaze he defined as “bright” would sometimes pause on him—containing a shyness lighter than clouds, and a dependence heavier than mountains.
When the sprawling silhouette of the Zixiao Sword Sect’s mountain gate finally appeared ahead, Hongxiu let out a soft breath.
“Junior Brother Ye, thank you.”
Her voice was light, but earnest.
“I need to return to the inner court to report, then enter seclusion to heal. This favor, Hongxiu will remember.”
Ye Chen accepted the token, nodding slightly.
“It’s only right. Rest and recover.”
There was nothing more to say.
Hongxiu bowed deeply to him, then transformed into a streak of rainbow light, flying toward the inner court.
Ye Chen stood still for a moment, watching the rainbow vanish among the mist-shrouded peaks, before slowly turning and descending toward the Sword Garden at the foot of Tianjian Peak.
—
By the time he returned to his small courtyard, it was already midnight.
Cold moonlight poured down, coating every blade of grass and tree with a layer of frosty white.
The air was filled with the unique spiritual scent of mountain herbs at night, refreshing and soothing.
The residence was just as he had left it—simple, quiet, and matching his current state of mind.
However, as he pushed open the door, a faint discordant sound broke the peace.
A transmission stone sat on the desk, flickering with dim light.
The glow was faint, alternating between bright and dark, but never fully extinguishing.
It was a small transmission.
He reached out, fingertips touching the cool surface of the stone, slowly injecting a wisp of spiritual energy.
The light flared suddenly, then stabilized in a breath.
Almost at the same instant, the other end of the transmission stone connected, as if the person had been waiting there all along.
A familiar voice flowed out, carrying a hint of nighttime laziness and a bit of suppressed coquettishness.
“Young Master… you finally replied to me.”
The voice was soft, like a feather brushing the heart, tinged with a trace of grievance.
“Why so late?”
“No more sect contribution points, so I went down the mountain for a mission.”
Ye Chen replied calmly.
“Just got back. No need to worry.”
There was a moment of silence on the other end, as if digesting his words, then a gentle “Oh.”
“Is Young Master alright?”
The little voice lost its complaint, replaced by pure concern.
“…I’m fine here. Master treats me well. Other than cultivation, there aren’t many tasks.”
The rest of the time became a monologue.
She rambled about her experiences over the past two months.
The drifting clouds atop Tianjian Peak had changed shape again.
Elder Qingyu had taught her a new and exquisite Sword Technique.
The Spirit Fruit sent by the sect recently tasted sweet, but she only tried one and used Ice Talisman Technique to preserve the rest for Young Master…
Her speech was slow and soft, as if sharing every bit of her world.
Ye Chen listened quietly, sometimes responding with a low “Mm” or a faint smile during pauses.
He realized that Xiaoxiao’s world seemed very small.
All her joys and worries revolved around cultivation and him.
In her words, she never mentioned any other fellow disciples, nor talked of discussing the Dao with others or traveling together.
In her world, there seemed to be only two people.
One was Elder Qingyu.
The other was Young Master.
“Xiaoxiao,”
Ye Chen suddenly spoke, interrupting her story.
“Have you made any friends on Tianjian Peak? The path of cultivation is long. It’s good to have a few like-minded companions. The disciples of Tianjian Peak should have decent character.”
His tone was gentle, carrying the advice of an elder.
There was another silence, longer than before.
“No.”
Xiaoxiao’s voice was emotionless and calm.
“Other than Senior Sister Lin, who brought me up the mountain, and occasionally says a few words, there’s not much contact with others…”
“Don’t always keep to yourself.”
Ye Chen continued, his mind rationally mapping out a “healthy” cultivation path for her.
“More interaction with fellow disciples is good for your mindset.”
“…Oh.”
Xiaoxiao’s reply was soft and a bit drawn out, sounding somewhat perfunctory.
But she still obediently added,
“Alright, since Young Master says so.”
Soon after, Xiaoxiao took the initiative to shift the topic back, her tone turning lively again.
“I’ve been talking about myself all this time… What about Young Master? How have you been? It’s always me speaking—I don’t know anything about your days.”
“Me?”
Ye Chen thought for a moment.
“Nothing special. Just cultivation every day, sometimes practicing swordplay with others.”
He paused, mentioning the events in Zixiao City as if they were ordinary.
“Just returned from a mission. Incidentally, I saved Senior Sister Yan’s life. Do you still remember her?”
As the words fell, he could clearly sense a change from the other side of the transmission stone.
It was a subtle shift, like a trembling string being plucked, then falling silent again.
“…Eh?”
Xiaoxiao’s voice came, feigning surprise.
“Is it… that Senior Sister Hongxiu?”
“Yes.”
“Young Master…”
Her voice slowed and softened, every word spoken with caution.
“Have you been spending a lot of time with Senior Sister Yan lately?”
Hidden within the question was an invisible needle.
“No.”
Ye Chen answered directly and honestly.
“In the past two years, counting this time, we’ve only met twice.”
The other end fell completely silent.
Ye Chen could even hear a faint wind, as if Xiaoxiao had moved to the window.
Just as he thought the connection would be cut, Xiaoxiao’s voice sounded again, carrying a strange, sunny lightness—like the sky clearing after rain.
“Hmph~”
She gave two nasal hums, like a satisfied cat.
“Alright.”
“Young Master is very obedient.”
“If anything happens, you must tell me right away.”
Before Ye Chen could respond, the light on the transmission stone vanished, the connection abruptly ended.
The room returned to silence.
Ye Chen held the now-cold transmission stone for a long time, his eyebrows raising slightly.
Obedient?
He smiled wryly.
Xiaoxiao had changed a lot.
She never used such words before.
He chalked it up to the growth of a young girl’s heart, not thinking deeply about the possessiveness and scrutiny behind those words.
Outside the window, the moonlight remained cold and clear, shining quietly on his calm figure—and on the silent transmission stone resting on the table.