It's somewhat intriguing, but I hope...

Mo Li took out a straw doll from the storage ring, which, astonishingly, bore a striking seven-tenths resemblance to Su Bei. It was covered with countless tiny holes from needle pricks.

Then, gripping the dagger tightly, she viciously stabbed into a certain part of the straw figure, causing its legs to splay apart even more.

I just hope it isn't what I'm thinking.

Mo Li gently leaned against the bedhead, her jade arm propping her chin, her cold, clear eyes fixating on the straw doll in her hand, in utmost tranquility.

As she regarded the straw figure before her, an unhealthy blush involuntarily rose on her cheeks. She brought the doll close to her nose and breathed in deeply, droplets of saliva unconsciously flowing down from her vermilion lips, dampening the doll.

Perhaps it was the memory of the bowl of dumplings her Master had eaten the previous night.

"Master, how is your disciple to kill you..."

Mo Li's eyes were hazy as she looked at the doll in hand, then she gently bit her delicate finger.

Slowly, she placed the straw figure under the brocade quilt.

As she pulled the brocade quilt over herself, outside the room, the wind carried certain sounds, whispering faintly.

「After an indeterminate time.」

Mo Li, now properly dressed, stepped out of the room, turning down the corridor with footsteps so light they were inaudible. In her hand, she held the brocade quilt she had just washed, still dripping water onto the ground.

The sunlight was splendid. It was the day of the Lantern Festival, and even the weather seemed joyful. A flock of white cranes burst forth, soaring straight into the azure sky without circling or spiraling.

Mo Li looked at the wet quilt in her hand, unsure where to hang it. Thankfully, it was a rare day on No-Sword Peak with no others around. She sighed deeply, then shook her foot, leaving her embroidered shoes on the spot. Her delicate, fair toes lightly stepped onto the snowy ground, leaving behind a series of plum blossom prints.

Her silver hair drifted in the snowy winds, the sun casting an arrogant, holy glow on her silver eyelashes.

The thatched cottage's yard led to Su Bei's pigsty on the mountainside, a fair distance away. A winding path stretched ahead, clearly visible under the sunlight.

Because No-Sword Peak was scarcely populated, only a few large white geese remained, creating a serene silence all around.

Mo Li hadn't truly wandered around No-Sword Peak in a long time, though her pale complexion still faintly flushed with a lingering blush.

Walking down the path, she soon saw the pigsty where her Master lived.

Mo Li's eyes brightened for a moment. Just as she was about to go in and do something secretive, she suddenly heard a rustling of leaves.

Leaves in winter?

With a touch of curiosity, Mo Li bypassed the pigsty and followed the sound.

A grove of peach trees appeared, still saplings, but their tender leaves were gently swaying in the wind. On No-Sword Peak, it was like a finishing touch to a masterpiece, the trees integrating into the setting as if painted.

The warm sunlight delicately fell upon the young green leaves, quietly bathing the earth. The buds, caressed gently by the sunlight, swayed as if playfully. The scene was peaceful and auspicious.

Since when has No-Sword Peak had a peach grove?

Before she had time to ponder, Mo Li saw a figure clad in purple. Her silhouette was elegant and slender, her three thousand strands of white hair fluttering gently. Holding a watering can, she was focused on watering the peach trees.

"Ninth Uncle?"

Mo Li's eyes looked on in confusion at everything before her.

Hearing the footsteps, Dan Wulan gently lifted her head, halting her motions. She looked towards Mo Li, their gazes meeting.

Why would this woman be planting trees on No-Sword Peak?

Despite her confusion, Mo Li still bent slightly, paying her respects to Dan Wulan.

"Mo Li greets Ninth Uncle..."

It was the Lantern Festival. A gust of wind swept across No-Sword Peak, lifting a head of silver hair and another of white.

The two looked at each other, silent for a long time.

「At the base of No-Sword Peak.」

Xiao Ruoching furrowed her brows lightly, puffing her cheeks.

Despite having dressed with such care, Master hadn't noticed at all.

Watching his confident strides forward, she clenched her silver teeth and, feeling somewhat indignant, kicked her foot towards a large clump of snow, intending to hit him with it.

Then—

"HISS!"

Xiao Ruoching's brows instantly furrowed deeply, and she sat down abruptly, biting her lips that she had deliberately tinted.

Damn it, how could this big rock look so much like a clump of snow?

Su Bei heard the commotion. He thoughtfully contemplated the footprint on the stone, then glanced at his disciple. She was sitting on the ground, her delicate nose wrinkled, silently enduring the pain. An inexplicable mirth filled his heart.

He stepped forward and, amidst her evidently hostile gaze, squatted down, looking at her with an amused expression.

"What's wrong? What happened to your foot?"

Xiao Ruoching curled her lips into a cold smile. Bravely holding her ground and covering her toes, she said, "It's nothing, Master needn't worry."

Su Bei raised an eyebrow, promptly stood up, and said casually, hands behind his back, "Well, then I won't bother..."

Xiao Ruoching watched Su Bei with misty eyes, a defiant expression on her face as her chest heaved. She reached out and grabbed a handful of snow, intending to throw it at him.

"You—"

Her gaze met Su Bei's as he turned to look at her. Su Bei looked at Xiao Ruoching's hand, still clutching the snowball she hadn't yet thrown, and smiled. He leaned in and said softly, "Snow is cold. Holding it too long will freeze your hand. Let it go."

Then he knelt down, gently grasping Xiao Ruoching's embroidered shoe and carefully removing it, taking off her stockings with equal caution.

Xiao Ruoching's body trembled gently, but she made no strong objection, allowing Su Bei to hold her foot. She threw down the snowball, which was nearly a block of ice by then, droplets of melted snow slipping through her fingertips.