The snow kept falling. The cold seeped deeper into his bones. Every breath hurt, and it felt like his time was running out. He didn't even care if she was real anymore—fairy, ghost, demon, goddess of death—it didn't matter.
He looked up at her with pleading eyes. "Can you stay?" he asked, voice quiet.
He swallowed. "Just sit here and talk with me. Before I die."
A soft negotiation, spoken between cold breaths and flickers of fading hope.
"I'm not good at talking," she said flatly.
But still, she sat down beside him.
Shu Mingye let out a slow breath, not from relief exactly, but something close. He leaned his head gently against her shoulder, drawn to the sweet, refreshing scent that surrounded her. For a moment, her body stiffened, like she wasn't used to someone being this close. But then, she slowly relaxed.
"Tell me about you?" he asked, his voice soft and a little slurred.
"There's nothing to tell," she replied, looking straight ahead.
"What's your name?"
"Call me whatever you want."
He glanced at the pie beside him and smirked a little. "I'll call you Pie then."
She raised an eyebrow. "Alright, I'll call you Clingy then."
He choked on a laugh. "Pfft… aha… alright. Clingy it is."
For a moment, it felt like the pain faded just a little.
Clingy. Was that because he stuck to her shoulder like glue? What a ridiculous nickname and yet, it warmed him.
"How old are you?" he asked, still catching his breath from the laugh.
"Sixteen," she replied, as if age meant nothing.
He blinked. Sixteen? What was a girl that young doing out here, outside the wall, in the middle of nowhere, calm as a rock beside a dying man?
"Why are you out here?" he asked, trying not to sound too nosy.
She didn't answer right away. The silence stretched between them, filled only by the howl of the wind and the soft fall of snow. Then finally, she said quietly, "There's no place for me inside."
He turned his head slightly to look at her. "Are you alone?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Her eyes didn't move. They just stayed on the snowy ground ahead. "Because no one's by my side," she said simply.
Shu Mingye let out a weak laugh. "You're really bad at talking."
Her answers were short, straight, and full of dead ends.
"I have no one to talk to," she replied.
"Talk to me, then."
"I'm talking right now."
"Pfft… you're right." He smiled despite the cold. "Are you really alone? No one… at all?"
"Maybe."
"Maybe? Don't you have any friends or family?" he asked, genuinely curious.
She thought for a moment. "Family, no. Friend… if you don't count a possibly demon, cute-looking puppy… then no."
He laughed harder, even though it made his ribs hurt. "Pfft… then let's be friends."
What a strange girl, he thought. Strange but somehow… not scary. Not anymore.
"Why?" she asked.
"So you won't be alone," he said simply.
She turned her head and looked at him. Then she nodded, "Alright."
Shu Mingye smiled. It was small, tired, but real. "You said there's no place for you inside… then do you live here?"
"Yes."
"Really? …Are you actually a fairy or a demon? How can you live out here?" His voice was full of disbelief. What kind of young girl could survive alone outside the wall?
"I'm strong."
"Yeah, must be." He chuckled softly. "How long have you been living here?"
"Nine years."
His eyes widened. "Nine years?" But she said she was sixteen. That meant… she had been out here since she was seven?
Everything about this felt unreal. A strange girl, calm, beautiful like a painting, suddenly showing up beside him in the snow. Not an enemy. Not a savior. Just… someone. And somehow, she became a friend.
Her voice, her scent, even her silence—all of it made him feel at ease. She might be a demon in disguise. He had heard that level ten demons could shapeshift into human form. But it didn't matter anymore. His wounds hurt and bleeding. His body was cold. He might die here any moment. But with her sitting beside him, it didn't feel so bad. If this was the end, at least it came with a good memory.
"If I die, will you visit my grave?" he asked, his voice quiet but hopeful.
She looked at him and said, "Depends."
"Depends on what?"
"If it's outside, then yes."
"What if it's inside?"
"No."
He smiled softly, a little tired but real. "Alright. If I die, I'll be buried here. Visit me often and bring me pie."
"Alright," she said simply.
That answer made something warm bloom inside him. Knowing someone might remember him, visit him after he was gone, it actually made him happy.
He tried again. "If I live, will you visit me inside?"
"No."
"You don't want to go inside?"
Maybe she really was a demon, since she didn't want to step inside the wall. He thought it was strange, befriending a demon right before he might die. But somehow, it felt… right.
"There's no one waiting for me inside," she said softly.
He smiled faintly, struggling to keep his eyes open. "If I live, then I'll be waiting for you inside."
She looked at him, curious. "Why?"
"Because we're friends."
She nodded slowly. "I see."
"That's a promise then," he said, his voice growing weaker as his eyelids drooped.
"I didn't say yes."
"Then my ears must be betraying me," he chuckled quietly.
He paused, trying to speak through the fog in his mind. "Hey, Pie… if I live, and then… kill a lot of people later..." His voice faltered. "Will you regret being my friend?"
She looked calm, but asked, "What people?"
"Just… people," he whispered, the worry hanging in the cold air between them.
"I just killed people before I met you," she said quietly.
Did she just admit she was a demon who killed people?
Shu Mingye decided to play along. He closed his heavy eyes. "Really? Who?"
"People with armor. They asked me something about running… chasing… injured… claws… black… dangerous, or something like that," she said, her voice calm.
He opened his tired eyes and looked at her. "And then?"
"Then I shoved a demon that seemed to match that description," she said plainly.
He laughed softly. "Pfft… and then?"
Those people must be his pursuers, the assassins his uncle had sent. Yet, she thought they were looking for a demon. Huh? Wait. That didn't sound right. Did she think that he looked like a demon?
"Then they attacked me. And I killed them," she answered as if it was no big deal.
He coughed weakly, his chest aching. "I see…" So that was why no one ever caught up to him. She must be strong—those assassins were all tough, at least late-stage cultivators. And she didn't seem hurt at all. Maybe she really was a level ten demon after all.
"Oh… were they your people? Should I offer them flowers?" she asked, head tilting slightly.
Offer flowers? What kind of suggestion was that?
He chuckled. "No, they weren't good people."
There was a moment of silence. Then she looked away, like she was thinking about something serious.
"Good then," she said. "Do not play with the lives of the innocent. That's what I've been told."