The Snow Blossom Child

After much back-and-forth, Kun Hong finally relented and untied me. My wrists burned where the rope had dug into the skin, but I managed to keep a calm expression. I had promised him I would enter his mind and search for the memories he had lost.

The task, however, was not so simple. Kun Hong was twenty-two years old—twenty-two years of life meant more than four thousand days and nights. Wandering blindly through the labyrinth of his consciousness would be exhausting, perhaps impossible.

I needed an anchor.

“You’ll have to give me something to work with,” I said. “A point of reference. Do you think what you forgot belongs to a certain period of your life? A specific event? A particular person? Without a coordinate, I might drown in your memories before finding anything useful.”

He paused, uncertainty clouding his expression. Then he shook his head, eyes vacant.

“I don’t know. I’ve combed through the first half of my life and nothing seems missing. Yet I feel hollow here—” he tapped his chest, “—as if something had been carved out.”

I frowned. “...”

“And when did this hollow feeling begin? Can you pinpoint an age? A stretch of years?”

He furrowed his brows, thought hard, and finally said, “From the moment I was born, perhaps.”

I nearly toppled over. From birth? That meant the entire span of his life. My task had just grown a hundred times larger. Still, I couldn’t risk offending him. I sighed inwardly. Better to exhaust myself than earn the wrath of Beiji’s High Priest.

I placed the Fanghua Incense into the burner. Thin streams of smoke curled upward, soft and fragrant. Kun Hong sank slowly into slumber, lulled by the haze.

I gritted my teeth. Never had I done such a thankless deal—robbed at knifepoint, forced to spend my energy, all while bound by another’s demands. This world had grown too chaotic. I knew then that when this was over, I needed a bodyguard.

An image flickered unbidden in my mind—Gongsun Bai, with his sly smile and insufferable smirk. His skills were formidable, yes, but his personality unbearable. No, I resolved firmly. My bodyguard must not be like him.

As I thought this, the smoke above the incense shifted strangely. Two strands appeared—one black, one white—twisting together like twin dragons coiling in the heavens.

I stiffened. “Why… why two threads of causality?”

And then, before my very eyes, the black strand flared and turned golden.

I froze. A single man should not have two lines of fate. Which one belonged to Kun Hong? If I grabbed the wrong one, the consequences could be disastrous.

Dust trickled from the ceiling. Then, as lightly as a feather, Gongsun Bai landed in front of me, his grin flashing eight sharp teeth.

“We meet again.”

My throat tightened. “Y-y-you—why are you here?!”

He tilted his head, refusing to answer, and pointed at the fading threads. “If you don’t seize them now, they’ll vanish. Choose quickly.”

“I—I don’t know which—”

“Then trust your gut. Pick one.”

I had no time to deliberate. I reached out and grasped the white thread. In the same instant, I was yanked into the depths of Kun Hong’s consciousness.

And of course, Gongsun Bai came tumbling after.

The world tore apart. Wind roared in my ears, shredding my eardrums. Stars exploded around us, meteors streaking across the sky with fading tails of light.

I realized we ourselves were falling meteors. Only, unlike others that soared gloriously through the heavens, we plummeted straight down—to earth, to rooftops, to trees.

This time, our target was a pond. Emerald-green water shimmered beneath us. My heart leapt with relief. For once, fate granted me a softer landing.

Behind me, Bai’s voice rang out, casual as ever.

“Zhang Qi?”

“Yes?”

“Su Qi?”

“…Yes…”

“I knew it.” His laughter rumbled like thunder. “The first glance told me. Still…”

“You mean you suspected I was a man in women’s garb? Is that so shocking?” I snapped.

He chuckled. “Perhaps it’s my own ignorance. Oh, and by the way, there’s a pond below. Care for a swim?”

“Gladly. I’m a fine swimmer.”

No sooner had I spoken than he leapt nimbly onto a nearby tree. I, less fortunate, plunged straight into the freezing pond, water spraying high into the air.

A minute later, regret struck like ice. “DAMN IT—it’s winter!”

Bai dragged me out, and I was shivering so hard I couldn’t form words. To his credit, he stripped off his robe and wrapped it around me, before fetching two thick coats from a nearby storeroom.

I tore off my soaked clothes, uncaring of modesty, desperate for warmth. But as I changed, I noticed Bai standing there, not even bothering to avert his gaze.

“Ahem.”

“What? It’s dark. I can’t see a thing.”

“You’re staring!”

He laughed. “I’m learning. Truth be told, I once disguised myself as a woman to escape assassins. Never pulled it off. Too obvious. But you—remarkable. If I didn’t already know you, I’d be fooled. Teach me your trick sometime.”

I ground my teeth. One day, I would kill him.

Once clothed, we wandered through the vast compound we had landed in. Courtyards spread in every direction, with rows of small buildings and gardens. The architecture was different from Nanchuan’s slanted, rain-shedding roofs. Here the houses were flat-topped, three stories tall, and lined with strange plants I had never seen.

Snow began to fall, thick as goose feathers, burying the earth within the time of two incense sticks. Cold gnawed through my coat. I sneezed violently, nearly losing my balance.

“This is Beiji,” Bai said. “The coldest of Yichuan’s four kingdoms. Four months each year the land lies frozen. A thousand miles of ice, ten thousand miles of snow.”

“Perfect timing,” I muttered, sneezing again.

He glanced at me, as though about to offer another coat. My heart warmed—until he tugged his own collar tighter instead.

I stared. “Were you… about to give me your clothes?”

“Which eye of yours saw that?”

“…Forget it.”

We trudged through the snow until, suddenly, a crimson blossom appeared on the wall above. A single plum branch, red as blood against the white.

It vanished. I blinked, realizing a child had plucked it.

A girl of seven or eight hopped down, tucking the flower into her hair. Her features were delicate, her gaze sharp as a blade, though her cheeks were round and childlike.

She carried a huge wooden bucket, half stumbling through the drifts, until she reached the pond I had fallen into earlier. The surface was crusted with thin ice. She pressed a finger to it, then jabbed through, lowering the bucket to fetch water.

I gaped. “She’s… washing a chamber pot in the middle of the night?”

Bai rolled his eyes at me.

The girl pulled the bucket free, snow piling on her shoulders and hair. Then she scooped the falling flakes, one handful at a time, into the bucket. Each snowflake unique, fragile, yet she treated them with reverence.

Her small hands reddened from the cold, but she did not stop. When the bucket was full, she plucked the plum blossom from her hair and set it atop the mound of snow. Meltwater ran down its stem, a single drop trembling on the bud.

Then she sat cross-legged, cupped her hands, and blew warmth over the flower. Slowly, impossibly, the bud began to bloom.

Bai glanced at me. “An illusion?”

I nodded. It was magic, though not one I knew. Unlike my single Bosuo technique, the world held countless arts beyond my reach.

The girl placed the full blossom back in her hair. Her eyes shone with joy.

At that moment, footsteps crunched outside. Another small figure burst in, calling softly:

“Elder sister.”