Xu Zhuohua's fingertips, gripping her sleeves, had turned white as she mechanically stepped over the bluestone threshold of Baiyun Temple.
Xu Jixin stomped his numb feet at the bottom of the stone steps; the hand warmer in his arms had long since stopped working.
Seeing that glimpse of the moon-white skirt finally appear, just as he was about to complain about how much time had passed, he saw Xu Zhuohua standing stiffly at the intersection of light and shadow like a puppet.
Sunlight filtering through the eaves of the Taoist temple fell on her face, making her tear tracks glisten. Her once bright almond-shaped eyes were now clouded with a layer of gloom, and even her eyelashes were trembling slightly.
"What's wrong with you?" Xu Jixin hurriedly threw away the cold heater, his rough hands brushing against her icy wrist.
The girl's body was incredibly light, like a kite that would scatter with a gust of wind.
Xu Zhuohua's steps were unsteady, as if she were walking on cotton. She suddenly stumbled and bumped into a pillar, her plain skirt sweeping across the snow.
"Zhuohua!" Xu Jixin caught the swaying Xu Zhuohua, the trembling in his palm making his heart tighten.
He shook those thin shoulders forcefully, "What on earth happened?"
Xu Zhuohua's eyelashes trembled violently, and she suddenly raised her head as if she had been awakened.
The moment their eyes met, the condensed mist burst forth, and scalding tears fell onto Xu Jixin's hand like burning embers.
She opened her mouth, but only managed broken sobs, as if a scorching fire was burning in her chest, turning all her words to ashes.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
Master Yunxu said that the Xu family and Cheng Muyun were not originally so close. The reason they were involved in the East-South route was because of Xu Zhuohua.
If fate had been predetermined, the Xu family would have been able to accumulate a sum of money in this chaotic world by traveling along the eastern and southern routes and the eastern and northern routes, which they could then use to support the rear and ultimately gain a good reputation.
But now it's hard to say. Getting involved with Cheng Muyun and Liang Shaozun might bring him a bad reputation.
Especially Xu Jixin, who had the closest contact with them.
Xu Jixin, his face full of confusion, grabbed Xu Zhuohua's arm and asked anxiously, "Zhuohua, what are you saying? Why are you apologizing? What happened? What did Master Yunxu say?"
Xu Zhuohua sighed deeply, "The Taoist priest said that I should go to Dongzhou."
"Go to Dongzhou? What for? What will happen to Young Marshal Cheng if you go to Dongzhou?"
Xu Zhuohua looked up at Xu Jixin, her lips trembling uncontrollably, and large tears rolled down her pale cheeks, leaving damp marks in the cold wind.
“I don’t know, Second Brother,” she suddenly grabbed Xu Jixin’s sleeve, her knuckles turning white from the force, “I don’t want to leave Cheng Muyun, I don’t want to die, and I don’t want him to die either.”
The last note, tinged with broken sobs, sounded particularly mournful in the twilight.
Xu Jixin was stunned by these nonsensical words. He subconsciously grasped his sister's cold hand, the calluses on his palm brushing against her thin wrist.
"You're all alive and well, aren't you?" He pressed down hard on Xu Zhuohua's trembling hands. "Why are you suddenly talking nonsense? What exactly did Master Yunxu say to you?"
His gaze swept over Xu Zhuohua's frightened eyes, and his heart sank—Xu Zhuohua, who was usually fearless, was now so distraught.
Looking at his sister's distraught appearance, Xu Jixin felt a lump in his throat.
They were all smiles when they went in, but after only a few hours, it's as if their souls have been taken away.
He raised his hand to wipe away her tears, but stopped mid-air. In the end, he could only pull her trembling body into his arms and gently rub his warm hand against her cold forehead.
In his memory, Xu Zhuohua seemed to never be defeated by anything, but now he looked like a deserter who had lost his armor and weapons.
"I'll go in and find out exactly what Daoist Yunxu means."
Xu Jixin turned around abruptly, his clothes billowing in the wind, but he was pulled back by a sudden force that made him stumble.
Looking down, he saw Xu Zhuohua's fingertips gripping his wrist tightly, her white knuckles like a dying vine, leaving several red marks on his skin.
When she looked up, her eyelashes were still wet with tears, and her swollen eyes looked like peach blossoms soaked in the rain, so fragile that it was heartbreaking.
"Second Brother," Xu Zhuohua sobbed, staggering forward half a step, her voice filled with fear and helplessness.
"I want to go home, back to the Xu residence."
Before he could finish speaking, more tears streamed down his hand, their scalding heat making his heart ache.
Xu Jixin's throat felt like it was entangled by withered vines on a mountain, so sore that he couldn't make a sound.
He gripped her cold hand tightly in return, the calluses on his palm pressing against her slender fingers, as if trying to transfer all his warmth to her.
“Come on,” he said, pulling Xu Zhuohua’s trembling shoulders into his arms with his other hand. “Second brother will take you home.”
On the way back, Xu Jixin wisely refrained from asking Xu Zhuohua about her sad story.
But she still secretly informed Cheng Muyun, since Xu Zhuohua had just said that she didn't want Cheng Muyun to die, and the two of them must be hiding something from him.
Not long after the two returned to the Xu residence, Cheng Muyun arrived.
Xu Zhuohua went to see Xu Shinong, and the two talked for a long time in the study.
The carved sandalwood window frames creaked in the cold wind. Xu Jixin huddled in the armchair, the bearskin blanket wrapped around him almost completely covering him, with only his half-closed eyes showing.
The gilded brazier in his arms was burning brightly, its bronze walls glowing red, yet it couldn't warm his frozen bones, which were still saturated by the wind and snow. The candlelight in the front hall flickered, casting swaying shadows on the blue brick floor and turning his furrowed brows a bluish-gray.
The heavy cotton curtain was suddenly lifted, bringing with it a biting chill.
Cheng Muyun, dressed in a black cloak, stood at the entrance of the hall, his hair still covered with unmelted frost. His dark eyes swept over Xu Jixin's figure.
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