“It wasn’t really your fault,” Chai Xiaomi said soothingly, her voice warm. “After all, watching your companions vanish before your eyes—no one could take that well. The hardest thing in this world is parting, whether by life or by death.”
The White Cat, seeing how ashamed and aggrieved the snow spirit looked, cleared its throat. “How about this—once we reach Hot Spring Town, I and my two disciples will imprint a protective talisman on each of you. What do you say?”
It had seen countless spirit beasts in its time and understood the fate of these snow spirits well. Their lifespan was short—at most a year, and no more than three. And half of that meager time, they couldn’t even move, standing still as true snowmen before their doors, watching the sun rise and set.
Only at night could they come alive.
Only then could they run, leap, and see this world they were never meant to hold onto.
When their lives ended, they would turn back into real snowmen, melting under the sun’s rays, turning into water, seeping into the soil, leaving nothing behind.
That was why these beasts never caused trouble for humans. They simply spent their fleeting lives enjoying everything the world had to offer.
In their last moments of life, they would block boats, play ghost, and scare those who had bullied them—taking revenge for their friends and protecting themselves.
“That’s right,” Jiang Zhiyu nodded in agreement. “With a protective mark, no one will be able to destroy you from now on.”
“Don’t worry,” he added, “my junior disciple’s skill with talismans and seals is nothing short of incredible.”
He jerked his chin toward Wu Li, a hint of pride coloring his expression.
The snow spirit followed his gaze.
The praised hero stood silently to one side, his thin lips pressed together, lost in thought. He seemed to look down at the ground, or perhaps at nothing at all.
The snow spirit quickly looked away, hardly believing that this boy, who had beaten it black and blue with such ferocity and menace, would help them make talismans.
It sniffed, eyes falling on the others. “Thank you,” it said, its voice heavy. “We never wanted to scare people either. But what else could we do?”
Wu Li was deep in his thoughts when he felt someone gently tugging his pinky finger.
He didn’t need to guess who it was. Among everyone there, she was the only one who dared touch him—they all knew how much he hated being casually touched.
She was the one exception.
A few soft fingers crept up his pinky like restless little insects, climbing into his palm, tickling it, then lacing with his in a firm hold.
He lowered his eyes.
“Lost in thought again, huh, Lili?” Her voice was soft, carrying a trace of amusement. “Brother Yu just praised you. I didn’t even get a chance to say anything—he beat me to it.”
She stood on tiptoe, leaning close to his ear. “So that’s why you snuck off at midnight to train with Old Ji—were you trying to bury everyone else?”
She found a graceful way out for his late-night strange behavior, then started coaxing.
“But you’re human, not made of iron. When you’re hungry, you eat. Tired, you sleep. Hurting, you talk. Do you hear me?”
“We’re husband and wife now—we’re supposed to share both bitter and sweet. If something upsets you, tell me. If you’re hurting, tell me. Even if I can’t fix it, at least I’ll be with you.”
She lifted her face, her eyes shining and full of his reflection.
“Please stop carrying everything alone, won’t you?”
“Remember what you said before? That you insist I be there whenever you’re in pain? And if I failed, you swore you’d make me pay for it. Had you forgotten?”
Wu Li looked down at her face, so earnest and serious, and felt something bloom in his chest.
The hollow that had always been there seemed to fill up gradually with something thick and sweet and warm, like honey being poured in.
“Really? You must be mistaken. I never said anything like that,” he tried to play dumb. If time could go back, he just wanted to fiercely punch his old self into next week.
“You—!” Chai Xiaomi ran out of patience, pointing a finger at her chest and sputtering, but couldn’t deliver any real threat. “Fine! Just don’t say it, then! From tonight onward, you’re sleeping on the floor. Not getting near this bed!”
“Hmph!”
With that, she gave him a furious glare and turned to leave.
The three still talking with the snow spirit looked up and caught a flash of her light pink robe disappearing outside, Wu Li quickly chasing after her.
Another spat.
The White Cat, Jiang Zhiyu, and Song Yueyao exchanged bewildered glances, then calmly returned to discussing the talismans with the snow spirit.
But the snow spirit, with its ball-like little paws, pointed toward the door. “Say, your boss—she looks pretty mad. Shouldn’t you go calm her down?”
It figured that boy could throttle people, didn’t even lift an eyebrow while punching—so arrogant, like nobody else mattered. But the moment the real boss got mad, he scampered after her eagerly. Had to give him credit for knowing how to handle it.
“Boss?” Jiang Zhiyu laughed, half-mocking. “She’s not anyone’s boss. That’s just Xiaomi, my sister and Yaoyao’s younger sister. The one chasing after her is my junior, and they’re married.”
“Couples fight all the time. Best we stay out of it.” He grinned. “Besides, when they fight, it never even lasts the night—they make up by morning.”
“Huh?” The snow spirit scratched its head in shock.
“So even that fierce guy got himself a wife—who woulda thought—unff!”
Jiang Zhiyu stuck a hand over its mouth quickly while Song Yueyao darted to close the door, glancing outside to see both Wu Li and Xiaomi gone.
“Careful. Never say something like that again. If my junior disciple hears you, even ten of those protective charms wouldn’t save you!”
The snow spirit shrank back, terrified, remembering what that boy had done to it just earlier. “Close one! If you hadn’t arrived in time, I’d be as good as dead—woof, woof, woof...”
The White Cat spoke with poise but unmistakable confidence. “He wouldn’t have killed you. If he truly wanted you dead, he wouldn’t have toyed with you like a ball and wouldn’t have waited for us to come.”
The snow spirit blinked, puzzled. “But back on the dragon boat, he even ignored your orders. How can you still trust him?”
The White Cat paused, then replied, “He is my disciple. Of course I trust him.”
The night sea breeze was bone-cold, carrying a sharp, briny dampness that numbed Chai Xiaomi’s fingers just from the walk back.
Once in her cabin, her first order of business was dragging out the silver incense brazier tucked under the bed. It wasn’t large but had a satisfying heft to it, perfect for warming hands and feet. She crouched down, opened its lid, dropped a few embers of charcoal inside, and pulled out a fire striker.
But the sea air had done its damage. The striker, sticky with moisture, sparked only weakly. She tried again and again, only tiny ember bursts that vanished before catching.
Wu Li leaned against the doorway.
Watching his wife squat on the ground, curled up into a tiny little ball, with her dark hair cascading down and half covering her face. She paid no attention to anyone watching her, simply pouting and stubbornly fussing with herself.
One strike, the flame went out. Another strike, out again.
Her delicate, fair fingers were rubbed red from the effort.
His heart ached with tenderness. He strode over and snatched the flint from her hand. "What are you using that for? I can start a fire."
Without waiting for her reaction, he flicked his fingertip lightly. A wisp of deep blue flame leaped from his finger and drifted into the stove, like an obedient firefly, willingly igniting the charcoal. In moments, the dim red glow of the coals brightened, a thread of warmth spreading softly.
Then, the very next second, a cup of cold tea was poured onto it.
