The air inside the grand main hall of Xiaozhu Peak felt heavy—dense with an unspoken tension that pressed down like a mountain.
Zhang Xiaofan stood still, shoulders slightly stiff, unsure of what misstep had caused such a shift in the atmosphere.
Dozens of eyes were trained on him, most of them belonging to the elite female disciples of the peak, their expressions ranging from suspicion to amused curiosity.
At the front of the hall, Immortal Shuiyue sat in her high-backed jade chair, her robes as pristine as snow, her aura as cold as frost.
Her slender fingers slowly tightened around the carved armrest, and for a long moment, she said nothing. The silence was oppressive.
Then, her voice rang out—calm, clear, and laced with frosty disdain.
"Wen Min," she commanded, "take Junior Brother Zhang Xiaofan out for a walk. Show him around the mountain.
But listen well—he is not to speak to any of our disciples, and under no circumstances is he to approach the Moon Viewing Terrace."
A flicker of something unreadable passed through Wen Min's eyes, but she bowed without hesitation. "Yes, Master."
Though her tone remained formal and respectful, there was a noticeable shift in her demeanor—her spine a little more rigid, her expression a shade more distant.
She turned to Zhang Xiaofan with a faint, practiced smile, the kind that polite noblewomen wore when entertaining uninvited guests.
"Junior Brother, this way, please. I'll guide you through the peak."
Zhang Xiaofan bowed lightly and followed, his heart sinking with every step.
As they exited the hall, the silence between them grew almost physical.
Wen Min maintained a precise distance—no less than three meters from him at all times—as if getting too close might somehow sully her spiritual aura.
Her movements were refined and graceful, every step perfectly measured, each gesture soaked in years of elite training.
Zhang Xiaofan, by contrast, walked with the awkward gait of a country boy out of his depth—because, in truth, that was exactly what he was.
They passed through winding stone paths, across elegant bridges arched over koi ponds, and down corridors lined with plum blossoms.
The deeper they moved into Xiaozhu Peak, the quieter it became.
Tall pine trees lined the narrow trail, and the only sounds were the crunch of pebbles underfoot and the whisper of mountain wind.
But even the beauty of the surroundings couldn't ease the awkwardness between them.
Eventually, Zhang Xiaofan sighed and stopped walking.
He turned to face her, mustering a sheepish, sincere smile.
"Senior Sister Wen Min," he said gently, "I know I may have come across a bit… strange.
But I swear, I'm really an honest man. That thing back in the hall—it was all just a misunderstanding."
Wen Min halted, her sharp gaze settling on him with suspicion.
She took a small, deliberate step back. Her fingers moved subtly, hovering near the hilt of her sword.
"Honest?" she repeated, her voice laced with disbelief. "You flirted with Master Shuiyue right in the main hall—and now you claim innocence? Do you take me for a fool?"
Zhang Xiaofan raised both hands in mock surrender, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. "I really didn't mean it that way! I was just trying to be polite—wait! Look over there!"
He pointed suddenly over her shoulder, his expression shifting to genuine surprise.
"Senior Brother Song Daren! What are you doing here?"
Wen Min's heart skipped a beat.
That name....Song Daren.....struck like a gong in her chest.
Memories she thought long buried rose like mist.
It had been many years, but she remembered that honest smile, that clumsy laugh, that quiet steadiness. Her eyes widened, and without thinking, she turned.
"Senior Brother Daren… it's been so lon—"
She froze.
The forest behind her was still.
There was no one.
Just trees swaying gently in the breeze, birds chirping high in the canopy, and sunlight filtering through the leaves in golden patches.
Her breath caught in her throat.
She spun around....
Zhang Xiaofan was gone.
Her face turned a deep crimson...not from embarrassment, but fury.
She clenched her fists, her spiritual energy flaring faintly as her voice echoed through the woods.
"Zhang! Xiao! Fan! You shameless little trickster!"
But the boy in question was already long gone, darting through the forest with unexpected speed.
His robes fluttered behind him as he weaved between trees and leapt over narrow streams. He didn't dare look back.
He knew he was in trouble.....but there was one place he had to see before things spiraled further out of control.
The Moon Viewing Terrace.
Moments later, he reached the cliff's edge. The trail widened, revealing a breathtaking panorama of the valley below, bathed in the silver glow of late afternoon sunlight.
The wind was gentle, carrying with it the fragrance of night-blooming orchids and wild mountain herbs.
Zhang Xiaofan stepped onto the stone platform. His breath caught in his throat.
There, beneath the open sky, a girl danced.
Her white robes fluttered like snow in the wind, her sword moving in smooth, seamless arcs.
Every motion was precise, every step filled with unshakable rhythm. She was like a swan gliding across a moonlit lake—graceful, powerful, and untouched by worldly concerns.
Her long black hair flowed like a ribbon behind her, catching the breeze as her blade sliced through the air in dazzling arcs of light.
The setting sun glinted off the polished edge of her sword, painting her silhouette in hues of gold and silver.
Zhang Xiaofan didn't move. He didn't even breathe.
He was spellbound.
Lu Xueqi.
Even though they hadn't exchanged a single word, her name rose in his mind like a whisper carried on the wind.
And in that moment, watching her dance beneath the sky, he felt something stir deep within his chest.....a feeling he couldn't name yet, but one he would never forget.
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