Ai Mingxia observed the area around her as she made her way down a steep path out of the forest. It really seemed like near no time had passed: the same sillage of familiar petrichor and grass floated throughout the air. Of course, there were a few subtle differences: the ornamental stones had been replaced with newer ones. The trees were greater in number and had more variety, and the decor style had slightly evolved. Yet it was still as if she had travelled back to the past. Despite herself, she couldn’t help but close her eyes for a scant few seconds and pretend she was back in the past again.

None of the other cultivators, which Ai Mingxia assumed were fellow Outer Peak disciples as they shared the same style of uniform, paid her any mind as she carefully adjusted her walking style. Liu Xiuying had made an effort to speak very properly and politely, but she was still a street rat, if one that had been born a merchant.

Thus, Ai Mingxia had decided she would walk in the regal way she had before, but in a way that seemed more like she was faking it. A few trying-to-be-discreet wary looks. Slipping into bad posture then quickly straightening up again. Badly-hidden defensiveness in the set of her shoulders. Should be easy enough. Of course, Ai Mingxia wasn’t sure whether this would seem natural for Liu Xiuying, but there wasn’t much she could do about that unless someone pointed it out to her.

They had always laughed at Ai Mingxia’s perfect posture and frigid poise in a way that was not mocking but still stung until she had finally allowed herself to loosen up and laugh. Until that day had come, and she had been strung tight again like a necklace of pearls.

Tugging her sleeve down for the umpteenth time to hide the rot on her wrist, she took a deep, long breath. It was all over now. She was White Snow Seeking Scarlet no more, and she left Ai Yue behind far too many years ago.

… Making sure to seem inconspicuous, she cautiously assessed those of the disciples before her. The uniform hadn’t changed at all.

The closest to her was wearing a pleasant yellow, the bow at his side ornate and embroidered with bright golden flowers. His hair was tied into a long braid, pure black and fine. The glint of jewellery shined beneath his tunic. His back was straight as he chatted cordially to the girl next to him. His skin was pale and features fine, looking strangely familiar. Ai Mingxia racked her mind but could not think of who he resembled.

He was a noble or a high-ranking merchant, likely, and at least at the Blossom stage as he had his own personalised uniform already. Assuming that tradition still went on, of course. Somebody rich and charismatic. If he wasn’t a noble, he was exceptionally prodigious to be able to claw his way up to Blossom already. If he was, he was still a talent, but not quite a prodigy.

His face was so cheerful, not in the way that was faked, but in a way that was completely natural. Ai Mingxia couldn’t help but look away. He looked so, so familiar. A bit more and Ai Mingxia was sure she could put a grasp on it …

… No. Back to the matter at hand.

If only she still had her ears. Then she could hear the details of their conversation from this distance. Though she could catch a few snippets of it, it was still very strange and blurred. It was unpleasant; Ai Mingxia couldn’t stop herself from scowling.

The girl talking to him was taller, taller than Ai Mingxia had been, definitely towering over Lin Xiuying — her assumptions that Lin Xiuying was shorter than average for a cultivator had been correct — and had sun-bleached, brown hair hanging down to her waist, wavy and unknotted. She was wearing the standard blue uniform that Liu Xiuying was, but her skin, though tanned, was healthy and smooth. She was athletic-looking but in a way that seemed as if she had not put much effort into it, and pretty in a ruddy, almost rough way.

… Yang Yun would’ve liked how she looked. Just her type.

The farmer girl’s face was so, so warm and full of emotion.

Ai Mingxia almost sighed. She was wasting her time. Aside from the yellow-garbed boy, everybody else was dressed in the ordinary blue. Not anybody of interest. She’d do good to make note of the yellow-garbed boy, though.

Parenthetically, everybody seemed to be roughly the same bone age as Ai Mingxia’s body had been, meaning that Liu Xiuying was likely eighteen to twenty as well. That was a nice thing to confirm: she wouldn’t have to deal with a body with a bone age far older or too much younger than hers.

…They might all be in the reign of the same bone age as she had been, but they all seemed so young. So carefree. As if the weight of the world would never rest heavy on their shoulders. As if it didn’t already.

Ai Mingxia’s throat felt dry.

She walked back to where the assumed the housing terrace was. The path was longer than she remembered it being. Maybe her mind was just playing tricks on her.

The houses stood nestled in the bamboo and grass, multi-coloured and all two-storied. Exactly which one did Liu Xiuying live in?

Even as she busied herself discreetly investigating the housing terrace, while playing with the house key she had found tucked into the sash, there was still something that weighed heavy in her heart and on her shoulders.

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…It was nothing.

There were near no other disciples milling about, but after waiting for a few minutes, a boy with a long black ponytail appeared. Feeling a bit like a stalker, Ai Mingxia walked towards him, despite the slight sweat beginning to bead on her hands. “Excuse me…”

She was not sure how she was supposed to handle this. How did one ask of the location of the house where they had lived in for at least quite a while without sounding like a loon? But Liu Xiuying was already ‘commonly regarded as a lunatic’, so it shouldn’t be too out of place.

“What do you want, wench?” The boy asked, frowning. Despite his scathing words, his tone was well maintained and level, but there was contempt and condescension in his gaze.

…Bitch. If only she could kick him right in the jaw then and there.

“Where do I live?” The words came out so easily and were so crisp and clear: she barely stopped herself from gaping in awe. Instead, she stared at him expectedly, purposely tripping slightly on a small stone before regaining her balance. It was almost funny.

The boy rolled his amber eyes. He slowly, deliberately, pointed at the old dusty shed in the corner. Ai Mingxia’s eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you go where you belong?” A glint appeared in his eye. “Better yet, why don’t you take a swan dive off the peak? Nobody’ll miss you.”

Ai Mingxia stiffened. Even though there was no fox-fire inside her anymore, despite herself, she burned. Quick as a blink, she grabbed the boy’s collar with the hand not holding the key and slammed him against a nearby tree trunk, a growl escaping her mouth.

Who did this immature, impolite child think he was? He could be some noble, but his blue uniform meant he certainly wasn’t talented. He was no royal, no prodigy, no Ai Fengge. And she? She was White Snow Seeking Scarlet. One of the most vengeful spirits in history. She stood defying fate until the very end — the only other thing that could’ve claimed her but herself were the heavens.

She — She — What in the world was she doing? She wasn’t White Snow Seeking Scarlet anymore.

“What the actual fuck? Do you have any idea what you’re doing? Do you have a fucking brain?” The boy’s face scrunched up in anger, and despite herself, Ai Mingxia could barely stop herself from slapping it.

“Where the fuck is it?” She’d never be so crass out loud, but the anger in her voice was real, and it shined so clearly through her perfectly smooth voice. If she were in her body, the air around her would be so bone-chilling it burnt, the tension so thick it was like a shroud.

“Why the fuck do you wanna know?” Couldn’t he say so? If Liu Xiuying was roommates with Si Ma Zhilian, he’d know. It couldn’t be so hard, could it? And what kind of question was that?

“Because, at least for now, I live there?” Ai Mingxia was fully aware of how insane she seemed right now, and was her voice crisp. The boy met her eyes coolly, some sort of stupid smugness on his face.

Suddenly, the roots below Ai Mingxia’s feet writhed and twisted, trying to ensnare her feet. Her first reaction was to step out of the way and dodge, but the roots were persistent, and Liu Xiuying’s body was unwieldy and not as nimble. Eventually, the roots caught her, and then thickened and tightened, trapping her feet immobile… At least it wasn’t flowers.

Ai Mingxia, trapped by some puny roots of some beginner’s poorly cast spell? She would not accept this. She tightened her grip on his collar, and with her other hand, she hit him in the gut, digging the key in. Before he could gasp out a reaction, she grabbed his arm and twisted it hard, the sharp edges of the key scratching it.

Ai Mingxia wasn’t sure whether Liu Xiuying’s body was strong enough to push him or flip him or something similar, as she had taken him by surprise when slamming him against the tree earlier, but that had to hurt. The boy’s cry of pain rectified this thought. She let go of his collar and raised her hand to slap him, but just as she bought it down, something within her shifted and she scratched him across his cheek instead.

Liu Xiuying’s nails were chipped but sharp, and though she didn’t draw blood, it clearly hurt. The boy winced, and Ai Mingxia took the opportunity to press her fingers to his temple. Control broken at last, the roots around her ankles retracted and twisted back into their place. The feeling was unsettling, but at least it wasn’t flowers. “Fine! Have it your way. I’m going to tell on you. You attacked first!”

“The masters won’t care, and good luck with telling your friends you were beaten by the lunatic. Now, where is it? And if you dare lie to me…” She hissed, still revelling in how the words rushed out her lips.

“Ugh! Fine!” How old was this child? He even stomped as he scowled. “You live in the pink one, with the pink hydrangeas outside. Happy now?”

Ai Mingxia did not deign to answer. With a slight scoff, she located the pink house with the hydrangeas and walked towards it.

She wasn’t sure why she was surprised when the boy grabbed her from behind and pulled her towards the ground. She had forgotten that human hearing was weak, and once again longed for her real ones as she fell towards the ground. The impact hurt, but it barely registered as she stared transfixed at the blood that bloomed from her arm after it was scratched by a branch on the ground. The cut was large but shallow, but red leaked out of it. Ai Mingxia knew that Liu Xiuying was a human, that her blood was ordinary: and yet, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from something that shouldn’t be so strange.

“The fuck are you looking at?” The boy questioned. Ai Mingxia would’ve rolled her eyes. Couldn’t even pull off an ambush properly. Like her.

Still staring at the red blood leaking out her hand, she stood back up as if in a trance. “Creep,” he mumbled under his breath. Suddenly, he seemed to stiffen, amber eyes alighting in panic. After a few strange seconds, the boy scoffed, and left.

At long last. Ai Mingxia, only barely being able to stop herself from staring at the red blood staining her tanned arm and blue robes, continued her walk to her house.

Finally, she slotted her key into the doorknob of the deceptively simple-looking wooden door. Turning it, it occurred to her: this was her first time unlocking a door the normal way for centuries. The door opened easily. So he really hadn’t been lying after all.

The inside of the house was simple and white-washed, decorated tastefully by pink-toned tapestries of mountains and skies. Ai Mingxia’s voice caught in her throat before she reminded herself it was only to match with the colour of the house. Nothing more, nothing less. Taking a deep breath, she walked in.

In the living room, a girl with long dark brown hair and glowing skin perched on a chair, sipping at tea. The golden sunlight shimmered in the embroidery of her light red robes, sparkling in her hair spilling over like a waterfall, gliding her fine features.

She looked at Ai Mingxia with eyes the blue of spring mornings, hues that told her of fluctuating dawns and fleeting idylls, light within each pupil like new rising suns.

Just like hers.

Despite herself, Ai Mingxia’s heart ached.