The dark clouds slowly began to dissipate, revealing that the storm had been nothing more than a false alarm. As the sky cleared, the world transformed. The snow-laden rooftops glistened like jade under the sun, icicles dripping slowly onto the pristine roads below. Birds chirped cheerfully, their songs ringing through the crisp mountain air, as if celebrating the end of the storm.
After years of unimaginable suffering, after a life filled with pain and torment, Wang Zixiao now descended the Snowy Sky Mountains, stepping carefully along the icy paths.
His body still bore the scars of past injuries, his tattered clothes offering little protection against the cold. He hugged himself tightly, shivering, seeking warmth from the bitter wind.
Yet despite his frailty, a faint spark of hope lingered in his chest—his first true taste of freedom in years. This bizarre, magical world, filled with mysteries and hidden power, awaited him.
Seeing Zixiao's vulnerability, Mu Feng reached into the deep folds of his robe and pulled out an old, thick coat, draping it gently over the boy's shoulders as they descended the mountain.
Zixiao's eyes widened slightly in surprise. How could he carry so much in those sleeves…?
But the chill bit sharply at his skin, and the coat's warmth spread comforting heat across his body. His inner thoughts whispered a quiet acceptance—he could not refuse this small kindness, not now.
He settled into the coat, allowing himself a brief moment of peace, while Mu Feng's lively, calm expression seemed to reassure him without a single word.
Without any trouble, the two finally reached the entrance to the Snowy Sky Mountain stairs. For the first time in years, Zixiao's eyes drank in the world beyond the mountains—a world he had been forbidden to see.
What he saw left him breathless. The snow of the mountains gave way to lush greenery stretching as far as the eye could see. Simple wooden houses dotted the land, lowly and unpretentious, yet alive with the sounds of daily life. Villagers moved about, laughing and calling to one another, their energy vibrant and free.
It was a world so different from the cold, silent, oppressive mountains. A warmth filled Zixiao's chest—a feeling he hadn't known in years. For the first time, he could sense life around him, in all its simple, unadorned beauty.
Zixiao and Mu Feng walked side by side along the dirt road that wound through the village. It was bustling with life—people moving in every direction, carts rattling, and laughter echoing between the small shops that lined the street.
"Buy two, get one free!" shouted a shopkeeper with a wide grin.
"Fresh tomatoes! Cheapest in town!" yelled another.
"Cotton candy! Sweet and fluffy cotton candy!" called a boy waving a stick of pink sugar in the air.
The noise, the smells, the endless chatter—it was overwhelming yet strangely comforting. Zixiao didn't feel fear. Instead, a soft warmth spread through his chest. For the first time in years, he wasn't surrounded by chains or cold silence. He could feel it—the freedom of others, and somehow, his own.
Mu Feng, noticing the spark of joy on Zixiao's face, guided him toward a small food stall that sold steaming bowls of noodles. The air was filled with the aroma of broth and spices. Before Zixiao even realized it, he was already on his fourth bowl, slurping eagerly while Mu Feng simply watched with a faint smile.
For Zixiao, it was the first real meal he had tasted in years—something other than cold bread or scraps.
As he ate, fragments of his past flickered through his mind. He remembered the time he had accidentally broken one of the matron's vases while cleaning. The punishment had been merciless—a week locked in the dark, damp basement, chained and starving. On the fifth day, they had tossed him a single stale bun, not out of mercy, but to keep him from dying too soon.
Now, with warmth filling his stomach and the sound of life all around him, Zixiao realized how precious something as simple as a bowl of noodles could be.
After his stomach was finally full of noodles, Zixiao and Mu Feng began walking toward Mu Feng's home. Zixiao couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed — he had devoured bowl after bowl without restraint. But Mu Feng didn't seem to mind at all. In fact, the old man looked rather pleased, as if watching Zixiao eat freely brought him a quiet joy.
As they walked, the noisy chatter of the marketplace slowly began to fade. The calls of merchants and the clatter of carts grew distant, replaced by the soft whisper of wind brushing through the grass. The dirt road narrowed, leading them away from the bustling heart of the village and toward the quiet outskirts where only a few scattered houses stood.
Each step felt lighter to Zixiao. For the first time, the world didn't seem so cruel.
Zixiao's eyes widened with wonder as he took in the sight before him.
Up on a small hill stood a house built entirely from deep red wood, its surface gleaming softly under the afternoon light. Beside it flowed a clear river, its surface covered with blooming lilies and drifting lotuses that swayed gently with the current. The reflection of the house danced upon the water, giving it an almost dreamlike beauty.
Carved stone steps led up the hill, each step etched with ancient dragon-shaped symbols that seemed to come alive when touched by the sun. But what truly stole Zixiao's breath was the great sakura tree at the top — its branches heavy with soft pink petals that cascaded down like snow, shading the roof and painting the ground beneath in a carpet of color.
For a moment, Zixiao simply stood there, silent and awestruck.
After years trapped in cold chains and darkness, the sight felt unreal — like he had stepped into a paradise hidden from the world.
As they drew nearer, a soft fragrance drifted through the air — the delicate scent of sakura petals carried by the wind. Zixiao couldn't help but breathe it in deeply. It was sweet, soothing, and strangely nostalgic, like something he had long forgotten.
Before he knew it, he was following Mu Feng up the carved stone stairs. Each step brought him closer to the red-wood house beneath the pink canopy. When they reached the top, Zixiao stood silently before the house, gazing at its peaceful beauty. The petals from the great sakura tree fell like gentle rain around him, brushing against his shoulders and hair.
"Well then, let's have some tea, shall we?" Mu Feng said casually, sliding open the wooden door and stepping inside.
"Ah… mm," Zixiao nodded shyly. Though his heart still carried the unease of someone long trapped in fear, something about the old man's presence felt reassuring.
Moments later, Mu Feng was outside again, sitting under the shade of the sakura tree. He carefully poured steaming tea into two small white cups and gently slid one across the smooth stone table toward Zixiao.
The aroma of the tea mingled with the scent of the blossoms, filling the air with warmth and peace.
Zixiao took the teacup with his small, trembling hands and brought it to his lips. The first sip was hesitant, yet the warmth that spread across his tongue felt unlike anything he had ever tasted before. The flavor was rich and soothing — gentle, yet filled with a strange energy that seemed to wash through his entire body.
As he drank a few more sips, a quiet shiver ran through him. The exhaustion that had weighed on his limbs for years began to fade away. The dull ache in his muscles turned into a comforting warmth that spread from his chest to his fingertips.
Then, before his eyes, something miraculous happened. A faint golden glow appeared beneath the skin of his right arm, swirling slowly like liquid sunlight. The cuts and bruises that had marked him for so long began to close, the pain vanishing as if it had never existed. Within moments, the only traces that remained were the old scars — silent witnesses of his past suffering.
Seeing Zixiao's amazed expression, Mu Feng chuckled softly. "Don't worry," he said with a faint smile, "it's just some herbal tea. Helps heal your wounds and fatigue."
Zixiao's eyes widened slightly, still staring at his glowing arms, but he remained silent.
Mu Feng leaned back, studying the boy thoughtfully. "I didn't even catch your name. What is it, hero?"
After swallowing the last sip of tea, Zixiao set the cup down gently on the stone table. His hands trembled slightly as he spoke, his voice soft and uncertain. "It's… Zixiao… Wang Zixiao," he said, the words almost a whisper.
Mu Feng's eyes gleamed faintly as he nodded. "Wang Zixiao, huh? A strong name for a boy with a hard past. From now on, hero, we'll see what you're truly capable of."