Heavy Snow

The grass tips tickling its fur were uncomfortable, but Orange King, thick-skinned and tough, rolled over, covering its eyes with a paw and dozing contentedly.

Slowly, though, the grass mischievously shifted to tickle Orange King’s nose, prickling and itching until it sneezed twice, jolting upright to glare at the innocent-looking young man. “You’ve gone bad too, showing no respect for your senior!”

Jiang Xiaocao, self-taught in sighing, explained, “I’m not disrespecting you… I’m just anxious, Senior. Can you please release that human?”

“Xiaocao,” Orange King sighed profoundly, “do you think I don’t *want* to let them out?”

Jiang Xiaocao thought for a moment, choosing honesty. “I don’t think you don’t want to. I think Senior Orange King is just too lazy to…”

The word “lazy” earned him a swift paw punch.

Orange King was furious, and rightfully so. It had worked tirelessly, achieved great feats, yet this junior dared call it lazy? Even that human girl, the common one, praised it as a capable cat!

Jiang Xiaocao, unfazed by the hit, asked, “Why’d you hit me, Senior?”

“Say, ‘Please enlighten me, Senior,’” Orange King demanded.

“Oh.” He complied. “Please enlighten me, Senior.”

“Since you sincerely seek my wisdom,” Orange King began reluctantly, “when I ate that injured serpent dragon, it knew it was doomed but kept struggling, releasing annoying yin lightning. My strength was too great, though—it just made it crispier, no other use.”

“But that human,” Orange King flicked its tail irritably, “not only didn’t resist when I took them in, they’ve been silent in my belly for a month. I thought I’d saved a corpse!”

Jiang Xiaocao didn’t see how this justified the punch but, eager to move on, said, “Isn’t silence good? Someone thrashing in your stomach would be weird.”

“Not good at all! Like a corpse, showing no gratitude for my great kindness. They should’ve praised me ten thousand times in there!” Orange King huffed. “Plus, too quiet, they’re like digested food—hard to spit out!”

Jiang Xiaocao, still confused, said, “I don’t understand.”

“Of course, you dumb grass,” Orange King sighed, curling up. “It’s a high-level human thing. We beasts and plants fight to live, but it’s hard to grasp why humans want to die.”

“Senior’s right,” Jiang Xiaocao nodded, growing urgent. “I don’t get it. Let’s let her out and ask.”

He didn’t understand, but work was work. Determined to keep his lunch date with Su Qing, nothing would stop him. He gathered heaps of catnip, coaxing Orange King to eat it.

He took several paw punches for it, but compared to meeting Su Qing and eating good food, it was nothing. He accepted it with a squinting smile.

An hour and a half later, Orange King leaned against a tree, retching violently. It spat out a small orb, not a typical hairball but a product of compressed space.

With a “meow,” the human was released, lying on the ground.

Orange King wasn’t worried about discovery—Xiaocao was here. His talent for concealment meant even the sharpest shadow-wind dogs would see only ordinary grass, not Liu Xiaofeng.

Being unremarkable had its perks.

Xiaocao’s skill was great; his brain, less so.

Case in point: Orange King watched him kneel, clutching his robe’s hem, looking troubled but polite as he asked Liu Xiaofeng, “Excuse me, do you still want to die? If not, could you please escape quickly? I have an important appointment and I’m a bit rushed.”

Orange King’s head ached. This dumb grass wouldn’t stay stuck in the sect with it forever, would it?

It didn’t want that!

Liu Xiaofeng opened her eyes in the haze, exhausted, barely able to speak. She didn’t even want to open her eyes, longing to sleep in eternal darkness with her past.

Until a cool snowflake fell from the sky, landing in her eyes. She murmured, “…It’s snowing.”

“It is,” Jiang Xiaocao said, glancing at the sky. “The earth says a blizzard’s coming tonight, so I really don’t have much time. Do you still want to die?”

…

Liu Xiaofeng’s real name was Liu Xiaofeng.

It was simple—she was a girl. In her homeland, boys were dragons, girls were phoenixes. Common. After her birth, her father said, “A girl? Call her Xiaofeng. Xiaofeng, what a fine name!”

Remarkably, despite tales of vengeance requiring anonymity, she kept her name. Perhaps because she knew her enemy wouldn’t know it.

She was born in a tiny village on the northern ice plains, far from everything. @Infinite Good Reads, Only at Jinjiang Literature City

The ice plains’ isolation made the village insular. Generations lived here, rarely interacting with outsiders, trusting their wolfhounds more.

Descended from snow wolves, tamed over generations, these hounds were fiercely loyal. Her father had one, Aqiu, majestic and devoted. Liu Xiaofeng envied it. Though Aqiu played with her, wagging its tail, its loyalty was to her father.

Years later, during a mating season, Aqiu broke its chain, roamed the village, and sired a pup. That pup, Axue, was Xiaofeng’s.

At five, her memory was hazy. That winter was brutally cold, even for the ice plains. Frostbite plagued her hands, itching fiercely. Her father had her mother apply a herbal salve.

The salve worked wonders—pain and itching vanished, no scars. For fevers, a bowl of it, a night’s sleep, and she’d be fine. Her father said it came from a special flower, a gift from the ice plains, to be cherished.

Xiaofeng asked, “Flowers? I want flowers too. Can you take me to pick them, Father?”

“You’re too young,” her mother said. Seeing her pout, she added, “When you and Axue grow up, your father will take you.”

One winter day, an outsider collapsed at the village entrance. After heated debate, the village chief sighed—could they watch a man die?

They saved him, tending him with firewood, hot water, and the salve. With no doctor, the salve was their cure-all. The chief mixed some with water for the stranger.

He drank, woke, and everything changed.

He politely thanked the chief, promising future repayment.

The chief said, “We don’t need repayment. But we don’t keep outsiders. Once you’re well, leave.”

The stranger said, “Of course. But I’m curious—my injuries were severe. Was there a great physician here?”

“No physician,” the chief said. “Just our herbal salve.”

“Can I see it?”

“It’s nothing special. Look if you want.”

The stranger examined the salve, tasted it, and his face lit up with terrifying glee. “Cold Domain Snow Lotus?! Here, of all places? Effortless!”

Everything changed.

It was no longer the village’s ice plain, nor Xiaofeng’s.

It was the Guan family’s.

Her father stopped playing with her, stopped telling snow wolf king stories. He and the village’s able-bodied were forced to trek the ice plains day and night, risking their lives to harvest Cold Domain Snow Lotus.

The lotus grew in harsh conditions, devoid of qi. Only seasoned hunters with their hounds could find it. Even then, the nearby supply barely sustained the village. Large-scale harvesting was impossible.

Soon, her father and others were driven into the deep mountains, gone for months. Ten went in; five or six returned. Some resisted, but they vanished. In winter, tears froze before falling, flowing only inward.

Her mother told Xiaofeng the mountains loved them, keeping them as guests until spring.

Xiaofeng asked, “Why must Father pick flowers? I want him to play with me.”

Her mother held her, silent, then forced a smile. “Many sick people outside need these flowers. Your father’s helping them.”

Xiaofeng, still sad but understanding, said, “Being sick hurts. If no one’s sick, that’d be best. Then Father could stay with us.”

She didn’t know her words made her mother weep all night.

At eleven, Xiaofeng understood: her father was dying for others’ lives.

That year, Aqiu perished in an avalanche. Her father, who’d escaped the plains’ dangers countless times, fell ill. Their lotus quota wasn’t met. Soon, they’d vanish too.

Xiaofeng said, “Mother, I’ll go in his place.”

Her mother refused, clutching her, tears falling. “If it’s death, we die together.”

Xiaofeng listened, then at night, wrapped in her mother’s rabbit-fur scarf, donned new gloves and thick clothes, disguised as a boy. With hidden rations and Axue, she left.

She didn’t want to die. She wanted to live, for her parents to live. She’d find the lotus.

Unprepared, with an untrained Axue and no experience, she got lucky, joining a village group already in the mountains. They couldn’t send her back, so they took her.

Too young and inexperienced, she got separated in a wolf attack. Weak from hunger, she slipped off a cliff, buried in snow, face purple. Axue dug her out, saving her.

In that accident, she stumbled upon an untouched patch of Cold Domain Snow Lotus.

Tears fell—she’d never seen so many! Enough for the village to live peacefully for a year!

Her father was saved. They’d all live!

It was the ice plains’ gift!

With Axue, she rushed back, eating snow for thirst, nibbling lotus petals only when starving. She fed Axue plenty, fearing it would leave her. The vast, white plains scared her, though she wouldn’t admit it.

Taking countless wrong paths, after endless days, she and Axue emerged from the mountains, racing home.

“Mother! Father! I’m back!

I brought so many lotuses!

We’ll all live!”

But no familiar village greeted her. Her mother wasn’t at the entrance.

She was too late. It was a blackened ruin.

Standing at the entrance, she couldn’t fathom it. How could fire burn in the snow? If it could, why didn’t it burn their oppressors instead of her home?

Why couldn’t it wait? She’d brought the life-saving lotuses!

Later, she learned the Guan family, finding no more lotuses, deemed the village worthless. They ceded it to another family but, to prevent them from benefiting, eradicated everyone who could harvest lotuses.

Axue died distracting pursuers sent to clean up.

Holding its cooling body, Xiaofeng wailed.

She cried for ages, then decided to die—but first, she’d see the people her father and village died for.

They died for them; they’d better be living well. Someone had to live, right?

She still had lotuses, could save more.

But after risking her life to investigate, she uncovered the truth:

There were no sick people.

It was all for the Guan family’s second son, born with poor triple spirit roots, needing the lotus to cleanse two, leaving one to boost his talent.

For him! Her mother, father, Axue, Aqiu, the whole village, even the ice plains—died for him!

Why should he live?

He deserved death!

She’d have revenge!

Xiaofeng ate all the lotuses. She was the ice plains’ daughter; they’d aid her vengeance.

After excruciating pain, she survived, gaining exceptional talent and bones. But the fire that razed her village, though extinguished, burned eternally in her heart, consuming her enemy and her future.

Eating so many lotuses froze her growth. No matter the years, she remained an eleven-year-old child.

Perhaps the real her had died. But it didn’t matter—she didn’t need to grow, only to grow stronger.

In the following years, she killed the outsider who came to her village, the collaborators, the arsonists. One target remained: the Guan family’s second son.

Protected deep within the family, surrounded by powerful guards and a core artifact, she tried multiple times, failing, nearly dying. But she survived.

She realized she couldn’t keep alerting them. Her only chance was to infiltrate the Sword Sect early. If the Guan family kept Guan Jiayu away, she’d never get another shot.

She’d been burned by hatred long enough. She needed release.

Everything fell into place. Disguised as a boy, she apprenticed under Master Wang at the Spirit Tea Shop, waiting for Guan Jiayu. She’d sharpened her knife—just give her a chance!

One chance!

She’d seize it and kill him!

…

After Tang Yueling recounted the story, the dorm fell silent.

No one could speak.

There was nothing to say.

Even Su Qing had one thought: Guan Jiayu deserved to die.

Tang Yueling sighed softly. “I was thinking, though my childhood memories are blurry, if I ate such herbs… even if I didn’t know the cost, they nourished me. What then?”

It was a question of original sin, unanswerable. Her voicing it showed her inherent kindness, but kindness didn’t solve it.

Tianning, silent, gazed at the window.

She said suddenly, “It’s snowing.”

Everyone looked. Snowflakes swirled down, dancing like willow fluff, blanketing the mountains.

Su Qing opened the window. Cold wind and snow slapped her face, bracingly refreshing.

She murmured, “It’s snowing. A new year’s coming.”

…

Liu Xiaofeng, silent for ages, asked Jiang Xiaocao, “What’s your hurry?”

“I’m meeting an important friend for lunch,” he answered quickly.

“Is your friend Su Qing?” @Infinite Good Reads, Only at Jinjiang Literature City

He was surprised. “How’d you know?”

“I often saw you visit her.”

She knew Su Qing, maybe a friend too. Jiang Xiaocao mused, “Want to join us for lunch, then leave? It’s a bit risky. Oh, I’m really running late.”

Liu Xiaofeng stood, ignoring his ramble, and looked at the falling snow. She whispered, “…I still want to live.”

“That’s right,” Jiang Xiaocao said, not grasping her shift but seeing living as normal. He smiled, handing her a green blade of grass. “Take this and go. With it, no one will find you.”

…

Liu Xiaofeng ran down the mountain through the snow.

Snowflakes fell gently on her hair, like her mother’s touch.

Before the snow stopped, no one could harm her. She was the ice plains’ daughter, and the heavy snow would shield her.