She clutched the letter to her chest, closed her eyes, and took a while to suppress the urge to dig a hole and bury herself. Then she picked up the dried purple petal from the table and gently placed it in her purse, along with the Xuantie token.
She walked to the window and opened it. The night breeze rushed in, cool and gentle. At the end of the bamboo forest behind the mountain, the northwest horizon disappeared into the deep blue night. She couldn't see anything, but she knew that someone was waiting for her in that direction to see a flower growing from its petals.
Snow Empress chuckled softly and whispered to the night sky, " Yin Wujou, you wait."
In the distance, the night wind rustled through the bamboo forest, the sound carrying a faint, almost imperceptible laugh, as if it could be heard by someone across mountains and rivers.
The Xuantie token in her purse was slightly warm, like a beating, warm, and never-ending heart.
Life flows by like the water in the stream behind the mountain, neither fast nor slow.
Snow Empress wrote her reply to Yin Wujou that very night, but this time it took her much longer. She spread out paper and ink, the brush tip hovering above the paper for a long while, until a drop of thick ink dripped down and left a round dot on the Xuan paper. Only then did she come to her senses, pick up the brush and write three lines, then, feeling the tone was inappropriate, crumpled it up and rewrote it. She repeated this four or five times, until a small pile of scrap paper accumulated on her desk, before finally calming herself down and writing a letter with plain wording. The gist of it was that the agreement had been signed, everything was in order, and the injury was not serious. At the end, she only mentioned lightly, "Did you water the petal you buried? Don't let it dry out."
After sending the letter, she regretted it, feeling that her question had been too deliberate, like she was forcing a conversation. But the letter was already gone, and she couldn't get it back. She paced back and forth in the yard three times, then squatted down by the wall to look at the purple seedling. Three months had passed, and the sprout had grown to half a foot tall, with several broad, glossy green Yezi that swayed gently in the breeze. She reached out and touched the tip of Yezi, muttering to herself, "You're growing quite well, not caring whether your owner is worried or not."
Zihua naturally didn't answer her. She then went back into the house to work on her paperwork.
In the days that followed, Snow Empress gradually straightened out the affairs of the Ziwei Sect. She redefined the responsibilities of the Council of Elders, clearing up a batch of old cases accumulated during the time of Perfected Qingxuan, exonerating those who deserved redress and holding those responsible accountable without hesitation. Those elders who already harbored resentment towards Perfected Qingxuan's lineage were silenced by her series of actions, and the previously turbulent internal affairs of the sect slowly calmed down. The disciples discovered that this acting sect leader, who was usually aloof and cold, was actually more decisive and more willing to listen to the voices of her subordinates than Perfected Qingxuan. Some bolder disciples began to proactively submit memorials to her courtyard with suggestions, and Snow Empress replied to every one of them, her handwriting neat and precise, her annotations accurate and to the point.
That evening, after reviewing the last document, the Snow Empress rubbed her aching wrists and was about to water the purple flowers when there was a knock on the courtyard gate. She opened the door and saw her junior disciple Shen Qing, standing outside, followed by another person—Elder Xuanheng.
Xuanheng looked older than he had three months ago; his graying hair and beard were even thinner, and his back was more hunched. He held a box in his hands; the wood was dark and its texture indiscernible, but it exuded a calming sandalwood fragrance. Snow Empress stepped aside to let him in. "Elder, please come in."
Xuanheng shook his head. "I'm not going in. I just came to deliver something."
He handed the box over. Snow Empress took it; it was heavy in her hand, though the box looked small. Xuanheng said, "This was left to you by your master. He left it here with me before he left, saying he would give it to you after the sect's situation was settled. Now is the time."
Snow Empress looked at the box in her hand and pursed her lips. "Master... did he say anything to you before he left?"
Xuanheng was silent for a while. The evening light slanted across his wrinkled face, his gaze fixed on the eaves of the distant main peak, faint as if looking at something from long ago. He said, "He said he'd made many mistakes in his life, but taking you as his disciple was the only one he didn't regret. He also said—" Xuanheng paused, "You should live the way you like, you don't have to be trapped in the Ziwei Sect."
After Xuanheng finished speaking, he turned and left, his steps slow and deliberate. In the twilight, his silhouette looked as thin as a piece of paper torn apart by the wind.
Snow Empress stood at the doorway, holding the box, until Xuanheng's figure disappeared at the end of the path before she turned and went back into the house. She placed the box on the table, not in a hurry to open it. The light outside the window gradually dimmed, and there were no lights in the house. She sat in the darkness, her fingers resting on the edge of the box lid, and after a long time, she gently lifted it.
There were only two things in the box. One was a white jade token, slightly smaller than Yin Wujou's Xuantie token, with the words " Ziwei " engraved on the front and densely packed runes on the back. She recognized it; it was the sect leader's official seal. Perfected Qingxuan had given her the title of acting sect leader, and now he had left her this real sect leader's token as well.
The other item was a letter. It was short, and the handwriting was the kind of open and expansive style she was familiar with, as calm and breezy as Perfected Qingxuan himself.
" Xue'er, seeing this letter is like seeing you in person. Your master is leaving to find a place I've longed to go. You don't need to come looking for me. Entrusting the Ziwei Sect to you is the best way to give it its rightful place. But remember—the sect is your responsibility, not your prison. If one day you wish to leave, whether you pass the leadership to Xuanheng or choose another capable person, you don't need to worry too much. You've been trapped Eye of Chaos for too long; it's time to go out and see how big the world is. I've left a backup plan for the seal on the Eye of Chaos; you won't need to personally guard it for the next hundred years. You are free."
Besides, that kid Yin Wujou is alright. I've examined his aptitude; he's not as stubborn as his father. If you like him, feel free to associate with him more. If you don't, just kick him out.
--Master's last words.
Snow Empress read the letter from beginning to end, then from end to beginning, repeating it three times. The last two words, "final words," struck her chest like a blow; a bittersweet feeling welled up from her heart and rose in her nose, a surge of heat rising in her eyes. She pressed the letter to her heart, tilting her head back to force the bitter heat back. She didn't cry. Perfected Qingxuan had never liked seeing her cry, always saying, "Crying solves nothing; you'd be better off gripping your sword tighter." She had remembered that since childhood, and now she couldn't let him down.
She put the letter and the white jade token into the box, closed the lid, and placed it at the innermost side of her bedside.
She didn't sleep well that night. Tossing and turning, she felt an emptiness in the room. The rustling of the bamboo leaves was louder than usual, as if there was something to say but she couldn't express it. In the middle of the night, she got up, put on an outer robe, and went to the courtyard. The cool moonlight fell on her shoulders, and a thin layer of dew condensed on the Yezi of the purple sapling at the base of the wall. She squatted down and looked at it, and suddenly felt that the flower was just like Yin Wujou —seemingly quiet, but actually possessing an unreasonable vitality in its bones, capable of growing things as soon as they were buried in the soil.