When Xie Qingli dropped into the dark pit, disappearing beneath a churning tide of black ants, Yun Nian’s mind went blank. Her feet moved before her brain could catch up. She let go of her flying wooden sword and threw herself over the edge right behind him.
Wind roared in her ears. Pushing her remaining energy to flare a thin protective barrier, she ignored the sharp branches tearing through her sleeves and scraping across her shoulders. She kept her eyes locked on the boy falling below her, reaching out until her fingers caught his clothes. The second she reached him, she slammed her arms around his waist and dragged him hard against her chest.
For one fleeting instant, everything vanished—the ants, the vines, the deafening chaos. There was only his weight in her arms and the frantic rhythm of her pulse screaming in her ears.
Then came the impact.
Yun Nian squeezed her eyes shut, clenching her teeth as she waited for the sharp, agonizing bite of thousands of pincers.
But nothing happened.
Slowly, she pried her eyes open. They weren’t being eaten alive. They were sitting on a solid floor inside a quiet underground room, completely unharmed.
Yun Nian sat back on the cold stone, her hands still trembling as she tried to catch her breath.
Around her, smooth glowing pearls were embedded in the blue stone walls, casting a soft light across the chamber. The air was bone-chillingly cold, yet she barely noticed it.
All she could think about was the sight of Xie Qingli disappearing into that pit.
She had really thought he was going to die.
And then, somehow, this fellow was sitting there perfectly intact.
Yun Nian’s eye twitched.
She took a deep breath and reached into her qiankun bag, pulling out a small porcelain cup with steam still rising from the hot liquid inside.
She walked over and shoved it into his hands.
“I packed this before we left. Drink it. It’s cold down here.”
Xie Qingli stared at the warm cup for a moment before his pale fingers closed around the smooth porcelain.
“Thank you, Senior Sister Yun,” he whispered, his long lashes casting dark shadows over his skin.
Yun Nian crouched down in front of him.
She stared at his pale face.
The more she looked at him, the angrier she became.
Not because he had disobeyed her.
Not even because he had dragged her into danger.
She had simply been scared. Terribly scared.
Her chest still felt tight. Every time she blinked, she saw his body disappearing into that abyss again.
“Why did you jump?”
So her voice came out sharper than she intended.
“If those ants hadn’t been an illusion, there wouldn’t be a trace of you left.”
As it turned out, the swarm was merely a false vision created by the ancient guardian vines protecting this hidden area of Cuizhu Ferry [Emerald Bamboo Ferry].
Xie Qingli lowered his head further, letting his shoulders slump until he looked small and fragile.
“If I hadn’t let go, the vines would have dragged you down too,” he said softly. “You could have also died.”
He kept his posture loose and harmless, waiting for her expression to soften as it usually did whenever he put on this obedient appearance.
Instead, Yun Nian stared at him. Then she leaned closer.
“And what about you?”
Xie Qingli lifted his eyes.
Yun Nian’s brows were tightly knitted.
“Did you even think about yourself?”
He remained silent.
So she couldn’t help but poke him lightly on the forehead.
“Why do you always throw yourself into danger like this?”
Her voice was full of irritation, but the faint tremble beneath it betrayed the fear she was trying to hide.
“Do you think your life doesn’t matter?”
Xie Qingli froze.
The color slowly drained from his lips.
For the first time, after so many years the mask he had worn so carefully cracked.
The glowing room around him seemed to vanish, replaced by the memory of a pitch-black well. High above, a faint square of sunlight framed a shadowed figure looking down. As an icy voice echoed down the stone walls: “His life is worthless anyway. Make him talk—just keep him breathing.”
A violent spike of pain stabbed behind his temples. And the dark, heavy urge to destroy everything around him violently rattled against its seals. Blue veins bulged along his forehead, and a sheen of cold sweat broke out across his skin.
Then, a small, warm hand clamped down over his icy fingers. “Xie Qingli!”
His eyes snapped open. Yun Nian was inches away from him, her brows pulled tight in worry. The faint, sweet scent of her robes swept into his lungs, cutting through the dark fog in his brain.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, her voice sharp with concern.
Xie Qingli’s breathing came in fast, shallow gasps, but he managed to force a faint, tight smile. “It’s nothing, Senior Sister. Just feeling tired.” He pulled his hand back from hers, his eyes drifting down to her collarbone. A thin red scrape stood out against her skin where a vine had lashed her earlier.
He looked back up, his dark pupils dead quiet. “Why did you jump after me?”
Yun Nian didn’t pause. “Because I was terrified you were going to die. And I promised to protect you. I don’t break my word.”
Xie Qingli’s fingers twitched against the porcelain cup. He watched her face—the bright, uncomplicated smile she gave him, the exact way an older sister looks at a troublemaking kid brother.
He closed his eyes, forcing his rushing pulse to slow down. He knew how this went. People smiled, made promises, and played gentle right up until they needed something to trade away.
Opening his eyes, he softened his voice into its usual fragile thread, letting a faint, bitter smile touch his lips. “Senior Sister Yun’s life is valuable. Mine is cheap. It isn’t worth risking yourself over me.”
Yun Nian let out a slow, heavy breath. Then she reached back down, wrapping her warm hand over his cold knuckles. “Even if everyone else curses you, don’t look down on yourself. I’ve never thought you were any different from me. Your life matters just as much as mine.”
Xie Qingli stared down at their overlapping hands. Her palm was tiny, completely unshielded, and warm.
A dark, sharp impulse surged up in his chest. He wanted to press his blade into her sternum and pry her heart open just to see if the words written on it matched what came out of her mouth. His power could crush her into dust in a second, yet she kept throwing herself between him and danger.
Heavy, echoed footsteps smashed through the quiet before he could move. Yun Nian pulled her hand back and stood up as Jiang Zhao [Jiang-shixiong: Senior male fellow disciple] rounded the corner.
“Senior Brother, did you find a way out?” she asked.
Jiang Zhao’s eyes darted past her, lingering on the boy sitting pale in the dust, before his jaw tightened. “There’s no path back. We’re trapped.”
Yun Nian turned around to survey the space. They were trapped inside a massive hall built of indigo stone bricks. A massive gate made of black iron [Xuan-iron: A rare, extremely dense mineral used for unbreakable barriers] blocked the far end like a mountain wall. A hidden array at the bottom of the pit had dumped them straight into an ancient, locked vault.
Noticing Jiang Zhao’s pale face and heavy breathing, Yun Nian pulled a fragrant medicine pill from her qiankun bag and held it out. “Take this to settle your chest first.”
Jiang Zhao didn’t reach for it. He stood completely rigid, his throat working as he stared down at her. “Yun Nian! Have you lost your mind over a boy? Tossing away your own life?!”
Yun Nian put her hands up. “Senior Brother, just calm down—”
“How am I supposed to calm down?!” Jiang Zhao’s voice slammed against the stone walls. His hand twitched near the hilt of his sword. “Is Xie Qingli so important to you that you’d jump into a pit of man-eating ants? If those hadn’t been fake—” He cut himself off, his breathing heavy.
Yun Nian dropped her hands, pulling her shoulders in and lowering her eyes to look meek. “I was just worried about our Junior Brother [Xie-shidi: Address for a younger male disciple]. Please don’t be angry.”
Seeing her pull back and yield, the tight line of Jiang Zhao’s mouth loosened slightly. He grabbed the pill from her palm, shoved it into his mouth, and crunched it down before swallowing hard.
When Yun Nian reached back into her bag to offer him a piece of sweet candied fruit, he caught her wrist and pushed it down. “Save it. I have something else to handle.”
He pushed past her, stepping straight toward the boy in the corner. Jiang Zhao towered over him, his shadow falling over Xie Qingli’s quiet frame. A cold, hard edge settled into his eyes.
“Junior Brother Xie.”
Xie Qingli tilted his head up, his dark eyes wide and calm. “Senior Brother Jiang.”
Yun Nian reached out to grab Jiang Zhao’s sleeve. “Senior Brother, let’s talk about this outside—”
Jiang Zhao pulled his arm free without looking at her. He took another step forward until his boots were inches from Xie Qingli’s knees.
“Xie Qingli…” Jiang Zhao’s voice dropped, sharp as a blade. “…who on earth are you really?”
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