They made their way around the side of the waterfall, the sound of rushing water swelling with every step until it was all but deafening. Mist clung to their faces and hair, dampening clothes and making everything smell like fresh rain. The path narrowed until they could no longer avoid it. They had to step directly into the water to reach the shimmering veil of the waterfall.
Shen Zhenyu took the lead. He stepped into the pool without hesitation, his boots sinking slightly into the cold bottom. The water rippled out in dark circles as he moved forward, vanishing into the mist.
Song Meiyu followed, squeaking as the icy water soaked her boots. "Cold! Cold! Cold!" she hissed through gritted teeth but kept going.
Linyue took a calm breath and stepped in next. The shock of the icy water made every muscle in her body tense, but her face remained perfectly composed. The chill crept up her legs, swallowing her ankles, then her shins, then her knees. The current tugged insistently at her robes as if trying to pull her off balance.
Behind her, Shu Mingye's boots hit the water with a steady splash. His steps were steady, his presence a quiet force against the roar of the falls. When the current grew stronger, he instinctively reached out, fingers brushing against hers.
To his quiet surprise, Linyue didn't pull away. Instead, her fingers tightened around his—just slightly, just enough to hold.
Shu Mingye froze, a sudden stillness washing over him that had nothing to do with the freezing water. Her hand was cool and small in his, but somehow it sent heat shooting straight through him, making the icy water feel almost warm. His chest tightened. His thoughts threatened to scatter in all directions.
Meanwhile, Linyue was entirely focused on the cold creeping up her legs. She kept her steps even, her face calm, refusing to let so much as a shiver show.
The pool grew deeper as they went, the water tugging harder with each step. Boots splashed, robes clung heavily to their legs, and the roar of the waterfall grew so loud it swallowed every other sound. Mist coated their skin, cool and damp, blurring the world into white haze.
Through it all, Shu Mingye's grip stayed firm around Linyue's hand. Steady. Solid. It was the one thing that felt certain as the water surged around them.
At last, they reached the curtain of water. The sight was overwhelming up close, a shimmering wall of silver crashing down with endless force.
Shen Zhenyu gestured for them to wait, then calmly walked forward and disappeared behind the waterfall.
They waited.
And waited.
And kept waiting.
Still nothing. No sound, no movement, no sign of Shen Zhenyu reappearing.
Song Meiyu's voice suddenly pierced through the roar. Or maybe it was just her normal volume adjusted for waterfall level chaos. "SHOULD WE GO INSIDE TOO AND CHECK??"
Linyue and Shu Mingye exchanged a look. It was brief but full of meaning. It said:
He's probably fine… right?
…Maybe?
No. Probably not.
Their expressions softened into mutual resignation.
They both nodded. And with their hands still linked, because at this point letting go seemed more dangerous than holding on, they stepped forward. Through the freezing, roaring wall of water. Into the unknown. Hopefully not into a giant bat cave. But almost certainly into more trouble.
Shu Mingye stepped forward first, his grip still firm around Linyue's hand. Behind her, Song Meiyu clung to the back of Linyue's skirt. They walked pass through the roaring veil of water. And immediately regretted every decision they had made this morning.
Water crashed down onto them. Linyue couldn't open her eyes. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't even think. The water pounded her head, shoulders, and dignity into a soggy pulp. Her whole body was soaked and cold, and just as she opened her mouth to say something poetic like "agh," the ground disappeared beneath her feet. Her foot stepped into empty air.
"Huh?" she managed.
And then gravity, rude as always, reminded her it existed.
They were falling. Again. Was this a curse? A talent? Should she add "professional free faller" to her resume?
She didn't even have time to form a single coherent thought. One second she was slipping, the next Shu Mingye had moved and pulled her against him. His arms wrapped around her with infuriating confidence. One arm locked tight around her waist, the other cradled the back of her head.
She could barely breathe. And it wasn't because of the fall, or the water still pounding down around them. It was because the infamous Demon King was holding her like she was made of glass and not the kind you smash when you're angry. Shen Zhenyu had also done this before. But somehow, it felt entirely different. Shu Mingye didn't even hesitate. He caught her like he had already decided, long ago, that he would never let her fall. And Linyue, for one completely ridiculous reason, felt… safe. Cold, soaked, probably falling into doom, but safe. Which clearly meant she had gone mad.
The fall, to Linyue's immense relief, didn't last long. Which was good, because she was about two seconds away from accepting her fate as a permanently airborne person.
Instead of smashing into rocks, solid ground, or—heaven forbid—a swamp, they hit water. They landed with a tremendous splash, water shooting up around them. Cold, deep water wrapped around her body, and for a moment, everything went quiet.
Linyue opened her eyes underwater. Shu Mingye's arms were still around her. He was already swimming upward. His eyes were open, focused, serious, even underwater. They surfaced with a loud gasp. Water streamed down their faces, their hair plastered wetly against their skin.
Linyue shoved her wet hair out of her eyes, blinked, then wiped her face with both hands. Shu Mingye still hadn't let go. She placed her hands on his shoulders, giving him a very calm, very polite look that said, "Thank you, but also, how long are we going to stay like this?"
He didn't get the hint. Or maybe he got it and was pretending not to. Hard to tell with a man whose entire personality alternated between "deadly Demon King" and "mildly amused furniture."
Linyue sighed and turned her head, scanning the quiet, echoing cave.
Shen Zhenyu stood on the rocky edge of the pool, completely calm and only slightly damp. He gave them a silent nod, like yes, he had in fact expected them to fall through the waterfall.
Song Meiyu, on the other hand, exploded out of the water like a confused duck. She flailed her arms for a few seconds, coughed up a heroic amount of water, and then grabbed the nearest floating leaf for moral support.
"Is everyone alive?" she wheezed.
"Yes," Linyue replied, brushing wet strands of hair out of her face. Her robe clung to her like an overly affectionate second skin.
No one broke anything. No one disappeared. No suspicious swamps.
Good. Progress. She turned back to Shu Mingye who, irritatingly, still had one arm looped around her waist.
Shu Mingye, for his part, wasn't even trying to move. He felt a dull throb blooming in his side as they floated there in the cold water.
Pain. Of course, his ribs would choose now to remind him they were still partially broken. The healing elixir he drank the day before had done something, enough to let him walk around like a smug tour guide, but clearly not enough to survive surprise freefall into hidden cave pool. And clearly, the universe had decided he didn't need ribs today. Still, when he heard Linyue and the rest planning to march off into yet another "poetic mystery adventure," he had offered to guide them. Someone had to make sure they didn't end up in haunted cave or underground lab. Or worse, a cave full of frogs and bats. He regretted everything, of course. But only mildly. At least, that was the excuse he gave himself.
And now, here he was. Half-soaked. Half-injured. And entirely wrapped around a woman who was half mystery, half trouble, and entirely…
Beautiful.
Shu Mingye blinked.
His hand was still at her waist. His other hand had started to reach up, meaning to wipe the water from his face, but halfway there, he froze. Because Linyue was looking at him. And her face, her real face, was looking back.
No jade dust powder. No uneven brows. No faint shadows painted to keep people away. The water had stripped it all clean.
His breath caught. He didn't even notice it at first, not until his chest stubbornly refused to rise again. The face in front of him was one he knew. One he had burned into memory. One he couldn't mistake, not even if a thousand years and ten lifetimes passed.
Her.
The past surged up like a wave inside him, crashing through every careful wall he had spent years building.