Chapter Three: Fever and Frost The snow was quiet, but her soul wasn't.
Yue Yao stood motionless in the falling white, her breath fogging in the air. Somewhere nearby, the corpse of the assassin lay stiffening in the cold. The blood he'd spilled had long since soaked into the snow, disappearing beneath the endless white.
Her body didn't feel cold.
But something inside her… cracked.
Her soul energy began to spiral—uneven, fragmented, pushing too fast through veins too narrow. Her head pounded. Her knees weakened.
"Your face just drained of color," Xuan Jin said calmly. "Which means one of three things: you're about to faint, explode, or cry."
"I'm fine."
"You're lying."
She didn't answer. Her eyes stared ahead, unblinking.
Then her legs buckled.
She collapsed into the snow.
Her body burned.
The wind was locked out, but the fever had crept in. Inside the ruined cottage, Yue Yao lay on a thin mattress, her skin hot with soul backlash. Black traces flickered beneath her skin like lightning trapped in glass.
Xuan Jin hovered nearby, half-corporeal, brows furrowed.
"You really don't know how to hold back," he muttered.
He pressed two fingers to her temple, and a thread of his soul energy pushed into hers—steady, slow, anchoring her spirit to prevent it from fracturing.
Her breath hitched.
A trickle of blood slid from the corner of her mouth.
"Damn it." Xuan Jin sat down next to her, wiping the blood away with a flick of his sleeve. "You overloaded yourself and didn't even notice. Of course you didn't. You probably think staying upright means you're fine."
She tossed slightly, limbs twitching, lips parted in a barely audible mumble.
"Don't…"
He leaned closer.
"Don't kick me out… I didn't mean to mess up… I want the sugar… sugar… candy…"
Xuan Jin blinked.
She kept whispering.
"I wanna go home… mama… I want the one with the hawthorn… and sesame…"
He stared.
"You're dreaming about… candy?"
Her face was still flushed, hair sticking to her cheeks, the ever-composed Yue Yao now curled on her side, whimpering like a child.
"I don't wanna be alone anymore…"
He looked away. His usual smirk faded slightly.
"Damn. You're really just a kid."
For a long time, he didn't speak.
Then, softly:
"I don't even know who my mother was." The words felt strange leaving him. Heavy. Old.
He reached out and steadied her again, whispering more to himself than to her. "At least you remember what warmth feels like."
When Yue Yao woke, the fever had broken, but her head throbbed and her limbs felt heavy.
She sat up slowly, vision blurred. Her hand instinctively reached for her soul mark.
It was quiet.
"Congratulations," said a voice beside her, "you're alive."
She turned. Xuan Jin sat with his back to the wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
"You stayed," she said.
"You talk in your sleep."
She froze.
"What did I say?"
"Something about hawthorn, sesame, and needing a hug. Oh, and you yelled at your mom not to leave. Real dramatic."
She covered her face.
He grinned. "For the record, you're less terrifying when you're asking for snacks."
A pause.
Then, quietly: "She taught me sword drills when I was five. I used to pretend I was too tired so she'd carry me back inside."
Her voice was thin. Almost shy.
He didn't tease this time.
"She must've been kind."
"She was the only person who ever looked at me like I was… real."
He nodded slowly.
They sat in silence.
Then she asked, without looking at him, "Did you really laugh the first time you killed someone?"
"I did."
She finally glanced at him.
He wasn't smiling now.
"I laughed so hard I thought I was invincible.
Then I threw up behind a shrine and cried until my throat bled."
The wind whistled through the cracked beams above them.
"You're still trembling," he said.
Yue Yao glanced down at her hands. They weren't steady.
"I guess I'm not as cold as I thought."
"No," he said. "You're colder. You just haven't figured out how to live with it yet."
Later, when her strength returned, Yue Yao stepped back outside.
The assassin's body was half-buried in snow. She knelt, silent, and searched his robes.
She found it beneath his inner sash: a black token, carved with ancient soul lines, edged in gold.
She stared.
Xuan Jin's tone changed.
"That's not just a bounty mark. That's a Sect Master's kill order."
She didn't speak.
"You recognize that seal, don't you?"
Yue Yao held the token tight.
"…My uncle."
"The one who exiled you?"
"The one who raised me after my mother died. The one who told me he still cared."
She stood slowly.
Her hand clenched around the token until her knuckles went white.
Xuan Jin didn't joke this time.
He just said, low and flat:
"They didn't want to cast you out. They wanted to erase you."
Yue Yao's breath fogged the air.
Then, softly:
"They missed their chance."
She turned, black robe sweeping the snow.
And this time, her steps didn't falter.