As dusk settled, the lights of the Lin Clan's mountain gate were already lit.
Hua Yin, carrying a bamboo basket, slowly descended the path behind the mountain. The Frost-Condensing Grass, layered with ordinary medicinal herbs, had its remaining silvery frost on its roots melted into tiny water droplets, soaking the handkerchief and emitting a faint, delicate fragrance, like a wisp of spring hidden in the snow.
Two rough maids lagged far behind, their faces as pale as paper, not daring to utter a word. They had witnessed firsthand how the treacherous Frost-Condensing Grass had willingly offered its roots to her, how the thorns had bowed to her, and how the demonic wolves had retreated for her sake—the scenes were too eerie, like a silent dream, yet so real they sent chills down their spines.
The mountain gate drew near.
The gatekeeper, seeing that it was the Ninth Miss returning, was first taken aback, then a flash of contempt crossed his eyes—a useless cripple, daring to go to the back mountain alone? Upon seeing the faint glimpse of frost-covered grass leaves peeking out of her basket, her expression changed drastically. Startled, she stepped aside, yet couldn't help but steal a few more glances.
Hua Yin kept her eyes straight ahead.
Her steps were incredibly light, like the wind brushing past lamplight, her clothes spotless. The tiny white specks of light in her hair had long since vanished, leaving only a faint fragrance lingering deep within her long hair, scattered by the wind, and quickly swallowed by the night.
On the side path of the courtyard, lanterns hung high, their red light casting a warm glow on the bluestone slabs.
Lin Hua Yan was already waiting at the courtyard gate, dressed in a long crimson dress, a gold hairpin adorning her temples. She smiled brightly, but her eyes were as cold as frost. Behind her stood several of her direct sisters, each with a smile on their lips, but their gazes were like fine needles, densely woven into a net.
"Ninth Sister is finally back." Lin Huayan's voice was sweet and cloying as she stepped forward and personally took Huayin's arm, like an intimate sister. "The back mountain is dangerous. I wanted to go with you, but I was afraid you'd think I was meddling, so I had to wait here. Are you hurt, Sister? Let me see."
Her grip was surprisingly strong, her nails digging into Huayin's tender flesh, yet she smiled innocently.
Huayin let her hold her, only slightly turning her head, her gaze falling on the golden hairpin at her temple—a tiny ruby dangled from it, reflecting the lamplight like a drop of blood.
"Sister, you worried about me? How could I be injured?" Her voice was soft, like a breeze brushing against the first snow. "I just managed to fulfill my mission; I gathered the Frost-Condensing Grass."
She lifted the cloth covering the basket.
The Frost-Condensing Grass lay quietly on the top layer, its leaves intact, its roots loosely curled, like a sleeping child. The surrounding herbs, though ordinary, made it appear even more subtly ethereal.
Lin Huayan's smile froze. Her original intention was for Hua Yin to never return, or at least return severely injured and utterly humiliated. Who knew she would not only return unscathed, but also actually find that rare and precious herb that almost no one dared to touch?
The surrounding sisters wore varying expressions—surprise, jealousy, resentment—but none dared to speak first.
Under the lamplight, Hua Yin's face was deathly pale, but her lips, flushed by the gentle breeze of her journey home, held a hint of cherry blossom, like the first hint of spring emerging from the snow. Her eyes, a deep amber, reflected the lamplight like a lake that held the entire night, quiet yet unfathomable.
Lin Hua Yan quickly regained her smile and warmly pulled her into the courtyard.
"Sister, you are truly skilled! Father needs this Frost-Condensing Grass for alchemy, and you have done a great service. Come, come inside and rest. I have already ordered hot water and medicine to be prepared; you must be exhausted."
She half-dragged, half-pulled, leading Hua Yin into the main hall.
A banquet had already been set up in the hall, ostensibly to "calm the nerves" of the Ninth Sister, but in reality, it was a trap. Several direct sisters sat around, wine cups and jade plates overflowing with fragrance, yet each harbored a hidden dagger in their eyes.
Hua Yin was seated at the head of the table.
Lin Hua Yan personally poured the wine, the rim of the cup as red as blood.
"Sister, have a cup to warm yourself first. It's windy in the back mountains; don't catch a cold."
The wine was extremely fragrant, with a faint, strangely sweet scent—"Intoxicating Fragrance," colorless and odorless. Those who were exposed to it would have their spiritual power temporarily sealed, their minds confused, and would only awaken after three days. Any more would permanently damage their foundation.
Hua Yin took the cup, her fingers steady.
She lowered her head and sniffed, a very faint smile curving her lips, like a flower blooming under the moonlight, carrying a secret known only to herself.
"Sister is so kind," she said softly, her voice as gentle as snow falling on lamplight.
She tilted her head back and downed the drink in one gulp.
The liquor burned as it entered her throat, traveling a fiery scorching sensation all the way to her stomach, but the instant it touched the burn on her chest, it abruptly transformed into a cool, sweet sensation, like honey melting in snow.
A smug glint flashed in Lin Huayan's eyes.
But the next moment, her expression changed drastically.
Hua Yin set down her wine cup, a vibrant crimson tinge on her lips, as if freshly dipped in flower sap. A fleeting golden light flashed in the amber of her eyes.
The effects of the intoxicating fragrance hadn't yet taken hold, but it was already subtly absorbed by the burn on her chest, transforming into a fine, warm current that traveled along her meridians, finally settling into her palm.
There, a white flower silently bloomed and closed, this time with a delicate silver rim around the petals, like a frame set by moonlight.
The lights in the hall flickered suddenly.
The sisters felt a chill seep in through the window cracks, carrying the unique, sweet scent of grass and trees from the back mountain. In the flickering lamplight, Hua Yin's long hair swayed slightly, and tiny specks of light seemed to flash within it, like stars or pollen.
Lin Hua Yan forced a smile: "Why is your face so pale, sister? Has the medicine taken effect? Quickly, help Ninth Sister to rest!"
She gave a signal, and two maids stepped forward to support Hua Yin.
But Hua Yin had already risen.
Her steps were extremely steady; her sleeves brushed against the edge of the table, creating a very light breeze. The breeze swept over the wine pot, jade cup, and vegetable plate, leaving a thin layer of frost on the surface of the wine and causing the edges of the vegetable leaves to curl subtly, as if kissed by night frost.
She reached the hall door, turning back with a smile.
That smile was so faint, yet it silenced everyone in the hall.
"Thank you for your hospitality, sister." Her voice was soft, like a wisp of spring hidden in the snow. "I've placed the Frost-Condensing Grass in the basket; please remember to give it to Father as soon as possible."
She turned and disappeared into the long corridor at the end of the lamplight.
Her figure was incredibly light, like a wisp of mist disappearing into her own night.
Behind her, Lin Huayan stared at the basket of Frost-Condensing Grass, her nails digging deeply into her palm.
The Intoxicating Incense had no effect whatsoever.
And the food and wine in the hall were all covered in frost; no one dared to touch them.
Late at night, in a small house in the side courtyard.
Hua Yin closed the door, and the white flower in her palm finally bloomed in full.
Six petals, silver-edged and gold-centered, its radiance restrained, yet illuminating the entire dark room, like a tiny moon.
She placed her hand against her heart.
The burn mark trembled slightly in response, like a seed finally waiting to return home.
Outside the window, the wind rose again.
The lamp was extinguished, the flower bloomed.
Concluding poem:
The flickering lamplight, intoxicating fragrance,
A sip of frost cools the throat.
White flowers bloom secretly, swallowing strange poison,
Silver edges sprout, protecting my wounds.
Sisters' smiles conceal cold daggers,
I hide my sharpness in the night.
Returning to the courtyard, the wind rises, thorn shadows darken,
The flower goddess in my dream quietly awakens.