Chapter 58 – Firelight and Frost
The city was cloaked in silver frost. Lanterns glowed like scattered stars against the dusk, their warm light trembling in the winter air. Even the cold wind had learned to soften itself—becoming less a bite and more a caress, as it fluttered through the crowded streets. The holiday season had arrived.
Within the bustling heart of the capital, the people spilled onto the avenues like ink on paper, lively and chaotic. Merchant stalls flared with colors—amber-glazed sweet potatoes steaming in bamboo baskets, candied hawthorn skewers glinting like rubies, embroidered silk fans and tassels swaying with delicate pride. Beauty houses laughed louder, restaurants brimmed fuller, and the entire city seemed to breathe with anticipation.
It was a rare moment of peace, and for once, even the disciples of the sect were allowed their reprieve.
Xinyu walked quietly beside the others.
Shen Yao strolled ahead with his hands clasped behind his back, the picture of lazy elegance. Rou Rou and Lingque linked arms, chatting and laughing as they skipped through patches of snow, their breath like fleeting smoke against the evening chill. Xinyu trailed a step behind them, silent.
The cold had taken up residence in his bones, but he didn't mind. The sharp wind only made his thoughts crisper, clearer—though that did little to ease the turbulence inside.
They arrived at a restaurant glowing with golden lamps and the scent of sweet plum wine drifting from its windows. Shen Yao stopped and turned with a smirk.
"This place looks decent," he said, gesturing. "Come, let's eat."
Xinyu glanced at the ornate exterior. "Shixiong, it's too expensive. You'll pay, right?"
"Of course," Shen Yao replied without a blink. "Just get inside and stop nagging like a housewife."
Rou Rou squealed with excitement. "We're eating like nobles tonight!" Her delight was contagious—Lingque smiled, though faintly.
Inside, the warmth embraced them instantly. Perfumed air, soft zither music, and polished wood interiors greeted them like old friends. Upstairs, noble guests sat behind embroidered curtains, their voices hushed but refined. Servers in clean robes floated by, balancing trays with practiced ease.
A pretty waitress approached their table, cheeks pink from exertion or perhaps the cold.
Shen Yao leaned forward, all smiles. "Lovely lady, may I ask—what dishes are famous here?"
She flushed. "Ah—yes, sir. We recommend the golden carp steamed with osmanthus, glazed lotus root, and firecracker duck…"
"Bring them all," Shen Yao said with a wave, as if he ruled the establishment. Rou Rou clapped her hands in delight.
Seated, the group relaxed into laughter—except Xinyu, who sat with his chin on his palm, gaze distant. He hadn't spoken much since they returned from the mission. Lingque noticed it, as she always did. His sleepless nights, the drinking, the way he dazed off during meals—she saw it all but said nothing.
Suddenly, the table behind them burst into hushed whispers.
"Did you hear?" one man murmured. "Prince Hua Ling is coming to dine here tonight—with his fiancée, Chi Ruyan!"
"Fiancée?" someone gasped. "Who is she?"
"They say she's been studying in disguise at the sect… too lovesick to stay away from her betrothed. So she followed him there, dressed as a disciple."
"How romantic," another sighed.
Someone scoffed. "Romantic? I thought Prince Hua was incapable of love."
"Nonsense," came the reply. "They've known each other since childhood. An unbreakable bond."
Xinyu choked. The wine in his throat turned traitor, burning its way out as he coughed violently. Shen Yao patted his back.
"You okay?" he asked, amused.
Rou Rou blinked. "Wait, that beautiful lady—Chi Ruyan—she's his fiancée?"
Shen Yao chuckled. "Well, that explains a lot."
"She's always with him," Rou Rou mused. "I thought she was just a senior student. But no wonder she clung to him like a flower on a branch."
Lingque's gaze flicked to Xinyu. He hadn't spoken. His face was pale, but his cheeks were flushed—not from the wine.
He reached for the jar again, pouring another cup with a trembling hand.
"I think it's good," he said suddenly. "Now I can finally stay away." Xinyu said to himself
No one noticed xinyu . Rou Rou was too busy eating, Shen Yao was ordering more, but Lingque watched Xinyu quietly as he drank and drank until his cheeks were as red as autumn leaves.
The doors opened.
A hush fell over the room.
Hua Ling entered.
His red and blue robe shimmered like fire and ice, his long hair tied back with a golden clasp. His steps were light, but each one felt deliberate, regal. Behind him trailed Chi Ruyan in white and silver, beautiful as a snow lotus, and Qingzi, face impassive as ever.
Shen Yao stared. "Now that is a match made by the heavens."
Rou Rou sighed dreamily. "If I could marry someone like that…"
Xinyu sank lower in his seat, pressing his head to the table, trying to vanish into the wood. He didn't dare look up.
He was relieved when Hua Ling didn't seem to notice them, walking straight up to the second floor. The private rooms awaited him—shrouded behind crimson curtains and closed-off walls.
Xinyu stayed bowed over for a while, pretending to sleep. His pulse was erratic, his stomach turning.
Lingque tapped his arm.
"You okay?"
He raised his head, eyes glazed. "I'm fine."
But he wasn't. And when Shen Yao kept ordering dish after dish, Xinyu finally got up.
"I'll be back… need the restroom," he muttered.
He stumbled out into the corridor. The cold hit him like a wall. He wandered without direction, until he found a small veranda beside the restaurant, looking over a quiet alley. He squatted down, clutching his stomach, breath fogging the air.
Then—
"You drank too much, didn't you?"
That voice. Calm. Cold. Familiar.
Xinyu looked up, startled. Hua Ling stood there.
"I—" Xinyu tried to rise but staggered, landing on the ground again. His hands scraped the wooden deck, and he winced at the cold.
Hua Ling stepped closer. "Avoiding me again?"
Xinyu laughed—bitter and breathless. "I'm not avoiding you, Dianxia…"
He was clearly lying.
Hua Ling's eyes narrowed. "Get up. You'll freeze."
Xinyu tried again, wobbling, failing. He leaned on the railing, dizzy.
He bowed. "I should leave."
He turned to walk—wrong direction. A dead end.
Hua Ling's voice was low. "That's not the stairs."
Xinyu turned again. Still wrong.
Hua Ling stepped forward and grabbed his arm. Their eyes met.
Xinyu's breath caught. He raised a trembling hand and brushed Hua Ling's cheek. The gesture was too intimate, too tender.
"I miss you, Lingling," he mumbled.
Hua Ling's heart twisted. But he said nothing.
Xinyu turned again—this time the right path. He walked away slowly, leaving Hua Ling standing alone in the freezing night, his skin still tingling from that half-drunken touch.
Snow began to fall.