On the seventh day after Die's modest ceremony, Qing Lin rang the Cold Jade Bell.
The chime was very soft.
Yet Hai Bodong rushed back from outside the valley before he had even set his teacup down properly. Cold swept over the eaves, and the disciples drying medicinal herbs looked up, only to see a white blur land in the courtyard. The ice spear condensed in the old man's hand nearly knocked over the flowerpot beside the door.
"Who laid a hand on Qing Lin?"
The courtyard was perfectly quiet.
Holding a bowl of hot soup, Qing Lin stood frozen beside the stone table.
Xiao Fan sat on the other side and reached out to steady the flowerpot.
"Old Hai, put the spear away first."
Hai Bodong looked at him, then at Qing Lin, before his gaze finally settled on the table.
Four sets of bowls and chopsticks.
A dish he liked was still being kept warm on the little stove.
Qing Lin's ears slowly reddened, and she drew the hand holding the bell a little farther into her sleeve.
"I sent two messages, but you never replied, Grandpa. I thought perhaps you hadn't seen them..."
"So?"
"So I wanted to call you back for lunch."
Hai Bodong's beard twitched.
He had given her this bell back in Black Emperor City. A strand of ice Dou Qi was sealed inside it, allowing her to alert him whenever she encountered danger. When he made it, he had worried that the girl was so considerate she would refuse to disturb him even if something happened, so he had deliberately put on a stern face and forced her to accept it.
All these years, he had kept that faint thread of awareness intact.
After all that waiting, what awaited him was a bowl