He didn't know yet that the path he rode on would end where heaven once began.
"If I'm Sleeping Beauty, then you two must be the evil stepsisters." Língxi muttered softly, half asleep, half annoyed.
His mischievous twin brothers had once again ruined his nap after he spent the morning helping Father sell wine and rice noodles in the market.
"Then you should hurry before your prince runs away," Lìng Zài teased, his lotus-green eyes glimmering with mischief as he elbowed him lightly.
"I'd rather sleep forever," Língxi murmured as he sat up, brushing dust from his snow-blue sleeves. "No beginnings, no endings. That's more peaceful."
Lìng Zài chuckled, helping him fix his messy hair.
"Why? I'm quite eager to see which prince wakes you up with a kiss--"
Before he could finish, Língxi covered his brother's mouth gently. His pale face flushed faintly-- his brothers always said he looked like a white bird that accidentally dipped its face in wine.
"No prince is coming for me," he said, voice calm but with weight. "I'm also a man. Just because I look delicate doesn't mean I'm weak."
Lìng Làn smirked from the side, arms crossed. Lìng Zài wasn't done teasing.
"Oh, but in the legend of the Tearstones, men kissed men, and earth didn't collapsed," Zài said lightly. "You'd fit that story perfectly."
Lìng Làn leaned closer, pretending to inspect him.
"Really? He does look like he stepped right out of that tale."
Língxi's blue eyes darted away, ears pink. "Enough. Stop talking nonsense… It's not--normal, the way you two say it."
But inside, that old story--the fallen god and the mortal who loved him--stirred a strange ache in his chest.
Familiar. Painful. He didn't know why.
He shook the feeling off and cleared his throat.
"Anyway, why was Mother calling me? Do I need to go to the market again?" His hand unconsciously brushed the edge of his hat veil-- the one he always wore to hide his face from sunlight and stares.
Lìng Zài grinned. "Neither to buy nor sell anything."
Língxi raised an eyebrow. "Then?"
"To sell your beauty," Lìng Làn said flatly.
"Làn!" Zài gasped. "That's not fair to him!"
Língxi blinked in confusion, his face paling. "W---what? Why? What did I do wrong?"
Before panic could rise, their mother appeared, smiling softly as she pulled him into her arms.
"Boys, stop scaring your brother. He may be gentle, but he's still your elder."
"Not me! Làn said it!" Zài defended quickly, raising both hands. "I swear by the five gods!"
Their mother sighed and kissed Língxi's forehead.
"No one is selling you, A-Líng. There's only a ceremony and a selection hosted by the Red Lotus Rapids--Hónglián Tān. They'll choose three men: a royal chef, a high servant, and a right hand. If you're chosen, our family will be honored and rewarded."
"Me?" Língxi asked, stunned. "Mother, I'll be disqualified the moment they see me. My face, my hair… I look too strange. Send Làn instead. I'm not worthy."
Zài grinned. "What if they act strange? You're good at serving tea--that counts!"
"Was that… a compliment or an insult?" Língxi asked dryly.
"Compliment, of course."
"Then why doesn't it sound like one?"
"Because you overthink too much," Zài said, chuckling.
Their mother brushed a strand of his hair aside.
"Even small talents have great worth, my son. Remember what the Ice God taught us—strength lies in quiet hands."
Língxi exhaled softly, nodding. "Yes… Mother."
That evening, under the fading sky, he dressed in his snow-blue robe and fastened the bamboo hat with its sheer veil. His white hair gleamed against the dusk. His father had borrowed a horse for the journey.
"I have to go alone?" he asked hesitantly. "People already stare like I crawled out of a fairy tale."
"Yes, brother," said Làn, crossing his arms. "It's your turn."
Zài winked. "People stare because they've never seen a man who looks like a snow spirit with a temple gem."
"You make everything sound too simple…" Língxi sighed as he mounted the horse.
"Don't overthink. Just imagine you're singing to the lake again--alone."
"Then---"
" Go already , brother! You're getting late!" Zài laughed, shoving his shoulder lightly.
Their mother waved with a soft smile. "Farewell, my son. May the gods guide you."
His father stood proudly beside her. "He'll make us proud. You'll see."
Língxi smiled faintly. Their faith warmed him, but it also pressed on his heart. He bowed lightly and urged the horse forward.
Not too fast, not too slow-- just enough for the wind to hide his face.
The road stretched endlessly, lined with petals carried by the evening breeze.
He looked like snowfall in human form.
But fate rarely lets beauty pass untouched.
Without warning---
An arrow sliced through the air.
Língxi gasped, yanking the reins. The arrow missed him but tore through his hat, carrying the veil away. The horse panicked, stumbled, and both fell to the dirt path.
"Ah---!" He winced in pain, clutching his arm. Dust filled his lungs. The horse neighed weakly beside him. "G-gods… that hurt…"
He looked up toward the cliff edge—and froze.
A masked figure in black robes and a royal-blue hood stood above, bow drawn. Another arrow pointed straight at him.
Their eyes met.
For a heartbeat, everything stopped.
Língxi's chest tightened. His voice trembled. "Please--- have mercy. I've done nothing wrong…"
But the man hesitated. For a second, something flickered behind that mask--surprise? Confusion?
He swiftly turned the arrow aside. It struck a tree near Língxi instead. Then, with fluid motion, he threw a black spiritual rope, hooked it around a branch, and descended lightly to the ground below. His landing stirred the dust between them.
Língxi blinked, heart pounding. "Why--why would you shoot at me? And… why not catch my hat when it fell?"
The man's voice was calm, clipped, and deep. "I was hunting birds. You shouldn't stand near cliffs. Dangerous for old men."
"Old--?!" Língxi's jaw dropped. "I'm not old! I just… look this way naturally! You shot me down, my horse is hurt, and you say that?! You should pay for this!"
The man tilted his head slightly. "Shameless. Asking payment from strangers now? You've a strange temper to match your strange looks. You rode right into my range. Not my fault."
Língxi stared, speechless. How easily humans twist words… The insult stung. He pressed his lips together, checking on his injured horse.
"Fine," he muttered. "I don't need anything from your excessive pride."
He started to leave, but the man stepped in his way again.
"Not so fast, Snow White."
"What now?" Língxi's tone was calm but edged with hurt. "You people can only mock ordinary folk."
"I don't mock ordinary," the man said flatly, circling him once. "You're not ordinary at all. You look like some new species of bird that learned to walk upright. I wanted to see how weird you were."
Língxi bit back his words. "Then stop watching. I don't need your attention."
"Hey, White Head."
He turned with a sigh. "What now--and stop calling me that!"
"Then what's your name?"
"I don't need to tell a stranger. We'll never meet again. Thank you for ruining my journey."
The man smirked faintly under his mask. "At least tie your hair and dust yourself off, or others will think you're a wandering ghost."
He tossed a hairpin and an extra hood toward him. Língxi caught them before realizing.
He looked down at the hairpin lying cold in his palm. The metal was plain, yet it gleamed faintly---like something not meant for mortals.
He looked up, but the stranger was already gone. Only the sound of wind answered him, carrying the scent of pine and blood.
"May we never see each other again…" Língxi whispered, though his voice trembled against his will.
The valley below seemed to echo it back---never… again…
But as the dusk deepened, something unseen brushed past him--soft, like the aftertaste of a soul.
A fragment of divinity that had no name yet still remembered him.
For the first time, the blue in Língxi's eyes glowed faintly, like moonlight trembling on water. He pressed a hand over his chest, startled at the strange nameless warmth blooming there.
High above, hidden behind the clouds, the masked man paused mid-leap across the treeline.
His gaze turned back for only a breath.
The wind carried the faintest whisper to no one in particular---
"…your eyes… why do they ache like mine?"
And with that, both vanished from each other's world---
unaware that the first arrow of fate had already struck.