It's Snowing!

The term "silent" is only relative when it comes to Tang San's Sleeve Arrow—there is still a "click" from the mechanism. But on this divine crossbow, "silent" is literal. From the moment the trigger is pulled to the bolt leaving the chamber, the entire process is soundless.

Huang Fei lowered his sleeve with satisfaction.

By the time he walked out of the washroom, the sky had already darkened significantly. The playground was deserted, and the branches of the ginkgo trees swayed bare in the wind. From the direction of the cafeteria in the distance came the clamor of voices and the clatter of bowls and chopsticks, with the scent of cabbage stewed with tofu drifting through the air.

Huang Fei tucked his hands into his sleeves and strolled toward the cafeteria. Passing the largest ginkgo tree at the edge of the playground, he stopped to glance at the mark left on the trunk by Tang San's Blue Silver Grass. The bark had mostly healed, but the scar remained, looking like a closed eye.

He withdrew his gaze and continued toward the cafeteria.

The cafeteria was steaming, and the work-study students were huddled around two long tables in the corner, heads down as they ate. Tang San and Xiao Wu were sitting together with Wang Sheng between them. Xiao Wu was using her chopsticks to snatch the meat slices from Tang San's bowl into her own mouth; Tang San dared not speak, while Wang Sheng watched from the side, grinning.

Huang Fei carried his bowl over and sat down opposite them.

"Brother Fei, why did you get up so late today?" Wang Sheng asked, his mouth stuffed with food, his voice muffled.

"Didn't get up late. I woke up, just didn't get out of bed." Huang Fei used his chopsticks to stir the cabbage in his bowl, found a piece of tofu hidden at the bottom, picked it up, and ate it.

Wang Sheng was already used to this kind of answer and didn't ask again.

Tang San glanced at Huang Fei. He noticed that the right sleeve of Huang Fei's robe was hanging a bit lower than usual, almost covering the entire back of his hand. But he didn't think much of it, assuming Huang Fei was just feeling cold.

"I gave that to you; have you tried it?" Tang San asked in a low voice.

Huang Fei knew what he was asking. "Tried it. Not bad."

Tang San nodded and didn't press further. He trusted that with Huang Fei's intelligence, he didn't need to be taught how to use it.

After eating, they returned to Dormitory Seven, and Tang San resumed his meditation. Huang Fei crawled under his quilt and closed his eyes. On the inside of his right forearm, the thin layer of silver plating clung silently to his skin, like a heat pack at the perfect temperature.

Three inches. Twelve shots. Silent. Paralyzing.

He ran these keywords through his mind, then turned over, finding a more comfortable position.

Half the size of Tang San's, five times as powerful, and ten thousand times quieter.

Tang San's Sleeve Arrow required manual triggering, made noise, had limited range, and fired one shot at a time. His divine crossbow was triggered by thought, was completely silent, had double the range, and fired twelve shots at once.

This was the system's "always better than you."

Huang Fei smiled silently under the covers and closed his eyes.

Outside the window, the first snow of winter was falling quietly. Fine grains of snow tapped against the paper window, making an extremely faint rustling sound, like someone turning the pages of a very thick book far away.

Dormitory Seven gradually grew quiet. Wang Sheng's snoring was the first to start, followed by the steady breathing from Xiao Wu's side, and then an unknown work-study student muttering something unintelligible in a dream.

Tang San was still meditating. His Mysterious Heaven Skill circulated slowly through his meridians, circle after circle, like an endless tide.

Huang Fei had already fallen asleep. The Silent Divine Crossbow on his inner right arm rose and fell slightly with his breathing, like a living, breathing weapon.

The first snow of winter fell all night long.

The next morning, Huang Fei was woken up by the cold.

The quilt had been kicked open at some point, and the cold wind snaked in through the gap, piercing his neck like an icy needle. He hunched his shoulders, pulled the quilt back, and wrapped himself into a ball, leaving only the top of his head exposed.

There was no fire in Dormitory Seven. The treatment of work-study students was already a cut below regular students; there was no extra coal supply in winter, so they relied entirely on the body heat of a dozen people huddled together and thick quilts to tough it out. Wang Sheng called this the "work-study student heating method," relying on the advantage of numbers.

Huang Fei thought this was far too optimistic. It was clearly "it's harder to freeze to death when you're all squeezed together."

Tang San had gone out before dawn.

This was his habit; regardless of wind, rain, or snow, his morning cultivation was set in stone. Huang Fei sometimes truly admired him—not for his diligence, but for his ability to crawl out of bed on such a cold morning. This level of willpower would have been enough to get into Tsinghua University in his past life.

Xiao Wu, however, was not yet up. Her bed was in the innermost corner against the wall, and she was curled up in her quilt with only a small tip of her ponytail visible. Even a Hundred-Thousand-Year Soul Beast was afraid of the cold, which made Huang Fei feel a bit more balanced—if even she had to huddle under the covers, it wasn't shameful for a human to do the same.

Wang Sheng was the first to get up to start the fire. He brought in a bundle of firewood from outside and lit it in the iron stove in the center of the room. The firelight illuminated the entire room, and the heat slowly spread, finally causing the frozen air to circulate.

"Brother Fei, get up!" Wang Sheng shouted.

Huang Fei reached a hand out from under the quilt, waved it, and pulled it back in.

"There's hot porridge in the cafeteria; if you go late, it'll be gone." Wang Sheng played his trump card.

The quilt opened a crack, and Huang Fei's face emerged. His hair was as messy as a bird's nest, his eyes were half-open and half-closed, and his entire being radiated the aura of "I'm awake, but my soul is still in bed."

"Porridge?"

"Sweet potato porridge, sweet."

Huang Fei was silent for three seconds, as if making the most important decision of his life. Then, he threw off the quilt and sat up.

Wang Sheng smiled with satisfaction. He knew that calling out anything else wouldn't work, but mentioning food always did.

There was indeed sweet potato porridge in the cafeteria. And it was indeed sweet. Huang Fei sat in a corner with his bowl, drinking the porridge spoonful by spoonful, feeling his soul slowly returning to his body from the top of his head. After one bowl, he finally felt alive again.

Tang San walked in from outside, his hair dusted with unmelted snowflakes, his face flushed red by the cold wind, but his eyes were as bright as if they held two stars. He sat down opposite Huang Fei, ladled himself a bowl of porridge, drank it in a few gulps, and ladled another.

"Did the snow stop outside?" Huang Fei asked.

"It stopped. There's half a foot of snow on the playground," Tang San said. "It crunches when you step on it."

Huang Fei imagined the scene and decided it was much more comfortable to sit in the cafeteria with the stove fire and drink porridge.

Tang San finished his second bowl, set it down, and said to Huang Fei in a low voice, "I'm going to the blacksmith shop in the west of the city after I eat; the tail fins of yesterday's batch of arrows need to be adjusted. Are you coming?"

"No. It's cold." Huang Fei's answer was crisp and decisive.

Tang San had known this would be the answer, so he nodded and didn't try to persuade him further. He cleaned up his bowl and chopsticks and left the cafeteria. Huang Fei watched his back disappear out the door, then leaned back in his chair, cupping the porridge bowl in his hands to warm them.