Lingxuan stood not far from the training ground, his eyes fixed on Su Qingyue. She was practicing her sword diligently, her movements sharp and precise. Yet, there was something different about her aura—cold, distant, and as if she was deliberately closing herself off.
"Qingyue," Lingxuan called softly.
But it was as if his voice was nothing more than the wind. She didn't turn, didn't even flinch. She continued swinging her sword, each strike heavier and more forceful than the last.
Lingxuan frowned. Why is she ignoring me?
Unable to shake the unease in his chest, he walked over to Tianyu, who was sitting casually, watching the other disciples train."Tianyu," Lingxuan said, "did something happen while I went to the market earlier?"
Tianyu looked up, his face puzzled, before shaking his head. "Nothing happened. Why do you ask?"
Lingxuan exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting back toward Qingyue, who still refused to acknowledge his presence. "She's been ignoring me since I came back… as if I've done something wrong."
At that moment, Tianyu's mind froze. He suddenly remembered what had happened earlier that morning—when Su Qingyue had asked him, with innocent eyes, where Lingxuan was. Still half-asleep, he had casually muttered:"Maybe Lingxuan went to a brothel."
The memory made his stomach twist. Don't tell me… she actually believed that?!
Glancing at Lingxuan's troubled expression, Tianyu forced a stiff smile. "Maybe she's just tired from training. Don't think too much about it. Women are… hard to understand sometimes."
Lingxuan gave a small nod, though doubt still lingered in his eyes. No… I can feel it. She's hiding something from me.
Meanwhile, deep down, Tianyu swore to himself:"I'd better keep this secret. If Lingxuan finds out I'm the one who caused this misunderstanding, he'll kill me."
The moon had risen high above the Azure Cloud Sect, its pale light bathing the mountains in silver. The quiet hum of night insects filled the air, broken only by the sound of a blade cutting through the wind. Su Qingyue stood in the courtyard, practicing tirelessly, her sword moving in sharp, deliberate arcs. Her breathing was ragged, her eyes cold and distant, as though every strike was meant to silence the turmoil inside her heart.
Her hands trembled slightly. She tightened her grip on the sword hilt, trying to focus. Yet no matter how much she swung, the words she had heard earlier that morning replayed endlessly in her mind.
"Maybe Lingxuan went to a brothel."
Tianyu's careless remark had struck her like lightning. She hadn't shown it at the time—only replying with a faint "Oh, I see"—but inside, her heart had splintered.
Why did it hurt so much? Why did her chest tighten with every thought of him? Why did the mere idea of Lingxuan being with another woman make her feel as though she couldn't breathe?
With one final slash, she stopped. Sweat trickled down her cheeks, dripping from her chin onto the stone tiles. She lowered her sword and pressed a hand against her chest, as though to calm the storm within.
"It shouldn't matter," she whispered to herself. "He's free to do as he wishes. I… I am nothing to him."
But the tremor in her voice betrayed her.
Qingyue wandered away from the courtyard, drawn to the quiet banks of the small river that ran past the sect. The water shimmered under the moonlight, reflecting her pale face and the strands of her snow-white hair. She crouched down, staring at her reflection.
Her heart was in chaos.
"Why do I care so much…?" she murmured. "Why does it hurt to even imagine him there?"
Her fingers brushed the surface of the water, ripples distorting her image. The answer was already within her. She just didn't want to admit it.
Because I've already fallen for him.
Her cheeks flushed crimson at the thought, even though no one was there to hear it. She pulled her knees to her chest, hugging herself tightly as though that could protect her from the truth.
Not far away, Lingxuan had been watching her from a distance. He had sensed something was wrong from the moment she ignored him earlier. His chest ached with worry.
Finally, he approached slowly, careful not to startle her. "Qingyue," he called softly.
She turned her head slightly but didn't answer. Her eyes were fixed on the water, her expression calm on the surface but storming within.
Lingxuan came closer, kneeling down beside her. He held out a small flask of water. "You've been training too hard. Here—drink. You shouldn't exhaust yourself like this."
Qingyue hesitated, then shook her head gently. "I'm fine."
Her voice was cool, polite, yet distant—so unlike the warm tone she usually had with him. It was as though she had built a wall between them in just a single day.
Lingxuan frowned slightly, unsure how to respond. "If something's troubling you, you can tell me," he said softly. "You don't need to bear it alone."
But Qingyue turned her gaze away, refusing to meet his eyes. "There's nothing wrong," she murmured.
Her hands clenched tightly around her robes. In truth, she wanted to cry out: Yes, something is wrong! I can't stand the thought of you being with someone else. I hate that I care so much. But pride and fear sealed her lips.
Lingxuan could only sigh. He stood slowly, giving her one last concerned look before walking away.
From the shadows, Tianyu had seen everything. His conscience twisted with guilt as he watched Qingyue's coldness and Lingxuan's confusion. He knew exactly what was causing this distance between them.
This is my fault… he thought, running a hand through his long brown hair. If only I hadn't said that nonsense about the brothel. She must have believed it. No wonder she's acting this way.
For a brief moment, Tianyu considered confessing. He could tell Lingxuan the truth, clear the misunderstanding, and save Qingyue from her pain.
But then he imagined Lingxuan's face—the fury in his black eyes if he discovered that Tianyu had been so careless with his words, causing the girl he liked to suffer.
Tianyu shivered. No… If Lingxuan finds out, he'll kill me. Better to stay quiet and let this pass on its own.
With a heavy sigh, Tianyu turned away, leaving the two of them to wrestle with their own hearts.
The days that followed were tense. Lingxuan noticed that Qingyue avoided his gaze whenever he spoke to her. She trained harder than ever, pushing herself until her body was on the verge of collapse. Murmurs spread among the disciples—whispers that Su Qingyue was troubled, that something had happened between her and Lingxuan.
Lingxuan himself grew more restless. He had never been the type to care about gossip, but Qingyue's silence cut deeper than any sword. He didn't understand what he had done wrong, and the not knowing tormented him.
Each time he tried to approach her, she pulled further away. And each time she saw his worried expression, her heart ached even more.
One evening, Qingyue sat alone in her room. A single candle flickered on the table, casting long shadows against the walls. She lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep.
Her mind kept drifting back to Lingxuan—his smile, his calm voice, the way he always helped others without asking for anything in return. The way he had saved her when she was being chased.
Her face heated as her heart whispered the truth she could no longer deny.
I've already fallen for him.
But then Tianyu's voice echoed in her mind. "Maybe Lingxuan went to a brothel."
Her chest tightened painfully. Tears welled in her eyes, though she forced them back. She turned on her side, clutching her pillow tightly, as though holding it could fill the emptiness in her heart.
"Lingxuan…" she whispered into the night. "If you truly went to such a place, then perhaps I was wrong to open my heart to you…"
Her lips trembled, and her face burned red with a mix of shame and longing. She buried her face into the pillow, muffling her sobs.
Meanwhile, Lingxuan sat alone at the highest peak of the sect, gazing out at the stars. His brows were furrowed in frustration.
"Qingyue… what have I done to make you look at me this way?" he muttered.
He clenched his fists, a rare feeling of helplessness gnawing at him. He had fought enemies, crushed challengers, even risen to realms few could dream of. Yet now, faced with the coldness of one girl's heart, he felt powerless.
"I'll find out," he swore under his breath. "No matter what it takes, I'll make things right."
The night deepened, and both Lingxuan and Qingyue lay awake, lost in thoughts of each other, hearts bound by a misunderstanding neither of them could break.
Dawn had not yet fully bled into the sky when Su Qingyue woke with a start, sheets tangled around her legs and her heart hammering so violently she felt it in her throat. For a breathless second the room was still—the quiet only punctured by the distant caw of a morning crow and the soft creak of the sect waking to its chores. Her pillow was wet at the edges where she had been crying in her sleep.
She pushed herself upright, hands trembling, and for a moment the memory of the dream clung to her like a second skin: Lingxuan—on the summit, his black robes a dark silhouette against the pale horizon; Lingxuan—sitting alone, shoulders slumped, a distance between him and everything else; Lingxuan—standing, turning, and then stepping off the cliff as if the world had nothing left to hold him.
The image returned now with all its terrible clarity, and she felt a cold, hollow pang in her stomach. She swung her bare feet to the floor and hurried to the window. Outside, the sect was wrapped in mist; lanterns still smoldered in the courtyards and early risers moved like ghosts along the stone paths. It was only a dream—she told herself—yet the feeling it left was as real as any wound.
She dressed quickly, wrapping a plain cloak about her shoulders. Her hands were clumsy; every small motion was weighed down by guilt. Why didn't I call to him? Why did I let him go when he might have needed me? The questions pressed at the base of her throat until she could hardly breathe.
Qingyue made her way toward the training terraces, feet carrying her by habit more than purpose. The cool morning air felt sharp against the raw place beneath her ribs. She had watched Lingxuan from afar so many times—admired him, depended on his presence, learned to lean on the quiet certainty of his calm. And now, because of a careless, half-asleep joke that Tianyu had let slip, she had shut herself away from him. She had let doubt seed, and the seed had grown into this bitter thing that gnawed at her.
She found the path that led toward the summit and moved without thinking. The higher she climbed the colder and thinner the air became; the world below the sect spread out in pale, sleepy ridges. The summit where Lingxuan sometimes sat to watch the valley lay ahead, bathed in a fragile dawn. Her footsteps slowed. Her chest tightened. For a moment she fancied she could still hear, in the echo of the dream, the whisper of a footfall leaving the cliff's lip.
But when she reached the plateau, the sight that met her eased and tore at her in equal measure.
Lingxuan was there—alive, unmistakable. He sat on the edge of the stone bench exactly as he often did: back straight, hands resting on his knees, looking out across the rising sun. The black of his robes drank the pale light; his profile was calm, eyes fixed on the horizon. He had not jumped. He had not thrown himself into nothing. He was simply—there, as solid and unreachable as always.
Qingyue froze. Her throat closed. The dream surged through her again, shadowing every movement he made. For a trembling moment she told herself she would walk up and speak, say the words that crowded her like stones. But shame held her feet rooted to the path.
Lingxuan rose then, as if sensing someone even at the edge of his awareness, and turned. Their eyes met—his black orbs steady, curious. Her feet felt suddenly weighted with the truth that had been eating at her; she had been the one to ignore him, to harden herself against whatever small kindness he had offered. He had not sought distraction or company. He had simply lived, and she had chosen to close herself away.
She watched him take two steps closer. His face showed no surprise, only the quiet concern that had made her chest ache the moment she first saw it. He opened his mouth to speak.
Something inside her broke then—a sharp, hot pain of realization and cowardice mingled together—and before she could stop herself she turned away. Without a word she walked as quickly as she could down the opposite trail, forcing her feet to a hurried pace. Her cloak whipped behind her; the stones blurred beneath her boots.
She did not think. She did not want to hear his voice ask if she was well. She could not bear the look that would meet her if he knew how she had let a thought—an ugly, careless rumor—push her into coldness. She had let Tianyu's offhand line settle into her mind like poison: Maybe he went to a brothel. The possibility had lodged there and festered until it colored everything. Even now, the ugly image of him with someone else burned at the edges of her shame.
By the time she reached the lower terraces her breath was coming in sharp little gasps. She could no longer pretend the dream was only a dream; its tremor had opened some fissure in her. She pressed her hand to her mouth, her fingers damp with sweat, and sat down on a low stone bench. For a long time she simply stared at the gray mist slanting through the pines.
Her chest loosened in tiny, raw sobs. The tears came suddenly and hot. "Lingxuan… I'm so sorry," she whispered to the empty air, as though the wind could carry her apology to him. "I should not have ignored you. I should not have doubted you."
Each confession felt small and useless, better for her to spill than to keep inside. The dream had frightened her—not because it was true, but because it had shown how quickly she might lose the one steady presence she had come to treasure. The idea of him stepping off the cliff had been nothing more than her fear given a body; still, the fear felt as if it might be true if she did not act.
She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and breathed slowly, forcing her pulse to settle. The fear made her honest; the honesty made the next step clear.
I will ask him myself, she decided, the resolve hardening in her like a blade's edge. I will not let myself be driven by rumors or by cowardice. If there is anything true—good or bad—I will look him in the eye and hear it from his lips.
The plan steadied her. She rose, shoulders squared though her knees still shook. This time she would not run away. She would walk to him, perhaps find Tianyu awake and explain the misunderstanding. Or, if she had to, she would find Lingxuan himself and put her questions plainly to him.
Her earlier shame returned in a bitter flash—she would have to apologize, to explain, to make herself vulnerable. But vulnerability was better than the cold distance she had wrapped around herself like armor. Better to risk honesty than to watch the man she admired drift farther from her with each silent day.
She started back toward the sect with quiet steps, moonlight fading and the sun finally fully waking the world. On the path below, the training grounds began to stir with early risers; the first songs of the day broke through the mist. The world carried on, indifferent and steady, but inside Su Qingyue a small, determined flame had been lit.
When she reached the courtyard, she lingered at the edge of the training ground, scanning for Lingxuan's familiar figure. He had not yet returned to the center of the drills; perhaps he was still on the summit, or perhaps he had only just come down. Either way, she would not let the next moment slip into silence.
She pressed her fingers to the place over her heart—still fluttering, still raw—and set her shoulders. The next time she saw him, she would speak. No more avoidance. No more listening to careless words that cut deeper than any sword.
For the first time since Tianyu's careless joke and her own retreat into doubt, Qingyue felt something steadier than fear: the resolve to make the truth replace the rumor, to ask, to listen, to risk everything for the chance to set it right.
Su Qingyue walked slowly toward Lingxuan, her steps unsteady as if the earth itself resisted her courage. Her fingers twisted the hem of her sleeve, and her heart pounded so loudly she thought Lingxuan would hear it.
Lingxuan, standing by the stone path with his usual calm demeanor, noticed her approach. His eyes softened slightly, though he said nothing, waiting for her to speak.
"Lingxuan…" Qingyue's voice trembled, her gaze lowering to the ground. "I… I want to apologize. I've been ignoring you these past days. It wasn't fair to you."
Lingxuan blinked, tilting his head slightly. Then, with a gentle smile, he answered, "It's all right. You don't need to apologize. If something troubled you, then that's enough reason."
From a distance, Tianyun watched them. His heart skipped a beat, panic rising in his chest. No, no, no… if she asks him… my secret will be exposed! His palms began to sweat, and he clenched his fists nervously.
Meanwhile, Qingyue bit her lip, her courage trembling on the edge of her tongue. She lifted her gaze, cheeks flushed, and asked in a soft but nervous tone, "Lingxuan… can I ask you something? Did you… did you go to a brothel?"
Lingxuan froze, his calm expression shattering into pure disbelief. His brows furrowed, and his eyes widened slightly. "Huh? Why would I ever need to go to a place like that? And… why are you asking me this?"
Qingyue's heart thudded painfully. She quickly explained, "Yesterday… I was looking for you, but I couldn't find you anywhere. So I asked Tianyu where you went. He said… he said you went to a brothel."
Lingxuan closed his eyes and let out a long, exasperated sigh, his breath heavy with disappointment. "So that's it…" He shook his head and looked straight at her, his gaze firm yet gentle. "No, Qingyue. I would never go to a place like that. Last night, I simply went into the city to buy food for everyone. That's all."
Her eyes widened, searching his face for any trace of falsehood. "Is… is that true?" she asked, her voice fragile.
Lingxuan nodded. "Yes. Every word. I wouldn't lie to you."
Relief flooded her chest, but it was quickly replaced by a surge of anger and betrayal. Her hands balled into fists as her breath quickened. "So… Tianyu lied to me…?" Her tone carried both disbelief and fury.
Lingxuan did not answer directly, but his silence was enough.
Qingyue's expression hardened, her steps brisk as she turned away from Lingxuan. Her heart, once heavy with doubt, now burned with determination. "That idiot…! How dare he say something like that?!"
From afar, Tianyun's eyes widened as he saw her marching toward him with fire in her eyes. Panic swelled in his chest. I'm dead… I'm really dead this time!