The Mirror of Startling Beauty: Her courtiers are everywhere

Tang Xixue's gaze inadvertently swept over Sheng Feiming's wrist, which hung outside his Buddhist robe, and then suddenly stopped.

The dark brown Bodhi prayer beads were quietly encircling his thin wrist.

Each bead is round and smooth, gleaming with a warm and understated luster under the candlelight in the hall, like ancient jade radiating light.

She remembered these prayer beads—they were the ones she had personally put on him before she left the Floating City when she was young.

The little guy used to love following her around, and he was quite lovable. She personally made this string of Bodhi prayer beads for him as a farewell gift.

At that time, the young monk was not even as tall as her shoulder. With his still-childish face upturned and his eyes filled with a watery reluctance, he simply put his hands together and solemnly said to her, "Sister Zhi, take care."

The prayer beads remain, but the hands that hold them have grown long and slender like jade.

The small figure who was once bewildered and had to hide behind her when people knelt in worship has quietly grown into a young saint with a serene and unfathomable character, nurtured by the morning bells and evening drums and the chanting of scriptures.

Time has polished him into a jade statue resting quietly on a lotus platform, with only the cinnabar between his brows remaining as vibrant as ever.

"The wind and snow urge me on, Feiming, I should go back."

She spoke very softly, as if afraid of disturbing the fragrant mist surrounding the lotus platform in the hall, and also afraid of disturbing the secluded tranquility that enveloped him.

"Sister Zhi, be careful on the road."

Sheng Feiming looked up at her.

Those eyes, clear as the sky after the rain, still held a calm, moonlit serenity, devoid of the childlike panic of the past.

Her ethereal voice was like an ancient bronze wind chime hanging from the eaves, clean and untouched by the snow.

"Goodbye, Feiming." She waved gently.

Inside the hall, the Bodhi beads he was twirling between his fingers paused almost imperceptibly.

The sunlight filtered through the plain white window screen, gently caressing his serene profile, as tranquil as a lotus flower.

The boy lowered his eyes, his lips continuing to chant the Heart Sutra, a chant he would never repeat to her—

The price he paid for revealing the heaven-defying secret of "Heaven sets up obstacles, and the soul cannot return" to Xie Jinlian was half of his lifespan, which was born with Buddha-like bones and was pure and immaculate.

This body has long been offered as a lamp before the Buddha, yet this heart is stirred by worldly ties.

Willing to sacrifice her youth and life, in exchange for a glimmer of hope for her return home.

Tang Xixue withdrew her gaze, turned around, and continued walking outside.

A plain blue oil-paper umbrella tilted down at just the right moment, steadily separating the countless snowflakes that flew like jade.

Snow slid down the edge of the umbrella, blooming into tiny ice flowers at my feet.

"Your Highness, please step under the umbrella."

He stood silently in the snow, his dark robes as black as ink in the twilight.

The hand holding the umbrella had distinct knuckles and was as steady as a rock; the other hand had already naturally taken the sandalwood medicine box she was carrying.

The umbrella was tilted entirely towards her side, and a thin layer of shimmering white instantly covered his own dark shoulder.

"Have you been waiting long, A-Liang?"

Tang Xixue spoke softly, taking half a step closer to him, standing side by side with him in the small patch of clear sky created by the umbrella.

The crisp, cold air of snow mingled with the faint scent of pine on his body, lingering around the tip of the nose.

"I'm willing to wait for Your Highness, however long it takes."

Noticing her subtle thoughtfulness, the icy look in Mu Liang's eyes melted away, like a spring stream breaking through the ice and rippling gently.

Although he didn't smile, his aura had become much gentler.

"The young master Xu of the Marquis of Anping's mansion," his deep voice echoed in the quiet snowy night, "has already had a good swim in the Bibo Lake within their mansion today."

Yesterday, Xu Manshan, taking advantage of his power, pushed Pei Yanchuan into Taiye Lake; today, this return gift from the Hall of Longevity has arrived as scheduled.

Mu Liang personally sent him into the water, watching him struggle in the icy lake until his voice was hoarse before ordering him to be pulled out—the timing was just right, teaching him a lesson without causing any loss of life.

"Furthermore, Wei Yu has already recovered the compensation." He took out a silver note from his pocket, the amount of a thousand gold coins clearly displayed on it, "Please take a look, Your Highness."

"Thank you for your hard work." Tang Xixue took the ticket, her fingertips lightly tracing the delicate texture of the edge. "Just give it to A-Lin."

"Yes." Mu Liang nodded and carefully put the silver note away. "Young Master Pei is currently on duty at Shanhe Palace, organizing the list of envoys from various countries in the Literature Pavilion. I have arranged for guards to be by his side to protect him."

Pei Yanchuan was, after all, a member of the Hall of Longevity, and a delicate flower pampered by His Highness.

In Mu Liang's view, they should naturally be protected.

For a frail scholar living in such a powerful and turbulent land, an extra layer of silent protection would bring him a greater sense of security.

"Then let's go see him on the way." Tang Xixue stepped forward, her brocade shoes making a soft rustling sound on the fluffy new snow, like silkworms eating leaves. "Shanheque is in charge of receiving envoys from all sides. Those who come and go are all rich and noble, making it easy to offend people. This job is truly dangerous."

The two walked side by side along the wide avenue toward the magnificent palace complex at the very front of the Tianchen Nine Palaces, which was specifically for receiving foreign guests.

Along both sides of the palace path, stone palace lanterns stand in succession, their warm yellow glow filtering through the intricately carved lampshades, casting hazy spots of light on the pristine white snow, like orange water lilies quietly blooming overnight, silently guarding this crystal-clear and tranquil snowy night.

As she walked, Tang Xixue suddenly remembered Qi Si, the regent of the Yun Chuan Empire, whom she had met briefly at Shanhe Que not long ago.

The man's eyebrows and eyes bore a striking resemblance to Pei Yanchuan's, bearing a six or seven-point resemblance.

However, Qi Si exuded an aura of authority and sharpness cultivated from long years in a high position and wielding power over life and death, like a famous sword in its sheath, its cold light already chilling and intimidating even though it was not fully drawn.

Pei Yanchuan, on the other hand, is like a piece of Hetian jade that has been carefully nurtured by years of ink fragrance and scholarly atmosphere. He has a refined and peaceful temperament, a restrained brilliance, and a smooth and unsharpened appearance.

Is it a coincidence? Or... is there some other story behind it?

Pei Yanchuan was on duty at Shanhe Palace, responsible for compiling the list of envoys, and it was highly likely that he would meet with the Regent Prince of Yunchuan.

If that's really the case...

As Tang Xixue was pondering, she passed by the plum grove outside the Biluo Palace.

Sparse shadows cast obliquely across the ground, a subtle fragrance wafts in the air, and palace lanterns reflect the plum branches onto the snow, creating a light ink wash painting.

Just then, a very faint, trembling whimper from a cat drifted through the wind and snow into my ears.

She looked in the direction of the sound and, through the intertwined plum branches and lamplight, caught a glimpse of a young man with blue hair as flowing as the deep sea in the snow.

He wore a light blue robe woven with silver, the collar and cuffs trimmed with fluffy white fur, which trembled slightly in the biting wind.

At that moment, he bent down and gently pulled a white cat, curled up in a snowdrift and shivering from the cold, into his arms.

The cat was pure white, except for a pair of round, wet blue eyes that stared at him, and its meows were weak.

"What a poor little thing... to be stranded here in this snowstorm."

The boy's voice was clear and melodious, like a mountain spring, carrying an innate gentle rhythm.

He carefully wrapped the wet, cold little body with the front of his outer robe and warmed its icy little head with his palms.

"Don't be afraid, don't be afraid...it's alright now."