But Su Wanwan felt it. That hand was cold, its knuckles slender, its palm far cooler than hers. When it rested on her head, it felt like an icy leaf falling onto her hair.
"Go on," Bai Xi said.
Su Wanwan nodded hard, then turned and left.
After three steps, she suddenly stopped and looked back.
"Master," she called.
Bai Xi stood amid the standing stones, her cloak fluttering lightly in the morning breeze, the gray-white fur along her hood trembling softly in the wind. She said nothing, merely lifted her chin slightly, as if to ask, "What is it?"
Su Wanwan opened her mouth. She had wanted to say, "I'll come back to see you," but the words felt too light, so light they would scatter as soon as she spoke them. After thinking for a moment, she changed them.
"You're here alone. Don't keep skipping meals."
The corner of Bai Xi's mouth twitched.
Without waiting for a response, Su Wanwan turned and hurried away. She moved so fast that she nearly tripped over her own tail, stumbling before steadying herself and continuing on.
The White Donkey followed behind her. After a few steps, it suddenly turned back and brayed at Bai Xi. It did not sound like a donkey's bray, but more like some other animal saying farewell to a person—muffled and deep, carrying an indescribable emotion.
Bai Xi looked at the donkey and actually smiled faintly.
"Get lost," she said.
The White Donkey understood the kindness in those words. It flicked its tail and trotted after Su Wanwan.
Chu Yang walked at the very back. As he passed Bai Xi, he paused and glanced at her.
Bai Xi looked at him as well.
"She's stronger than you think," Bai Xi said.
Chu Yang nodded. "I know."
"No,