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As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the courtyard, a subtle change swept over the scene. The vibrant colors of the afternoon began to fade, replaced by a cool, ominous twilight. Wispy clouds drifted across the darkening sky, their movements almost imperceptible at first. Then, as if on cue, a single snowflake fell, a delicate white speck drifting down like a feather. It was followed by another, and then another, until the air was thick with swirling snowflakes.

The snow accumulated rapidly, transforming the once-vibrant stage into a pristine white expanse. The edges where the elders, Duke, General, disciples, and I sat remained snow-free, creating a distinct boundary between the bustling crowd and the silent, snow-covered arena.

Just then, the last disciple emerged from the wings, a solitary figure against the backdrop of swirling snow. He held his sword in a relaxed grip, his movements deliberate and measured. Unlike the other participants who had greeted the cheering crowd with enthusiastic waves, he remained stoic, his expression unreadable.

But the silence didn't last. As soon as the crowd noticed him, the cheers erupted with renewed fervor. Claps and shouts filled the air, reaching a crescendo that dwarfed the previous welcomes. The entire atmosphere shifted, buzzing with an almost electrifying energy.

I glanced at the sun, its diminishing light mirroring my own desire to leave. This introduction ceremony was taking forever, and we were only halfway through. A sigh escaped my lips, and I pouted, forcing my eyes open to fight the urge to sleep. The boisterous noise made it impossible to ignore the commotion.

Then, as I lifted my gaze, my eyes widened in surprise. Unlike the others, this final disciple didn't acknowledge the crowd's enthusiastic response. He simply walked with unwavering purpose, his gaze fixed ahead, until he reached the other disciples already gathered in the center of the ring.

This unexpected defiance, his refusal to conform to the established greeting, sent a shiver down my spine. It was a subtle gesture, but it spoke volumes about his personality - independent, perhaps even rebellious, and certainly intriguing. 

As the announcer boomed, "Lu Zhao Yun from Luoxia Sect!", the crowd exploded in a cacophony of cheers that surpassed anything heard before. Some spectators even surged forward, eager to get a closer look at the final participant. Lu Zhao Yun, however, remained unfazed by the pandemonium. With a brief, yet graceful bow, he dipped his head and stepped back, taking his place beside the other three disciples.

My head snapped up from where I had been resting it on my hands. My eyes widened in recognition as they landed on Lu Zhao Yun. There he was, the mysterious stranger who had saved me from danger just a day ago. So, he was a disciple after all!

A flurry of thoughts swirled within me. Was he here to be my sword holder too? It seemed his skills as a martial artist were no myth. The cheers surrounding him were deafening, exceeding the welcome received by any of the other participants.

"What's the big deal?" I muttered under my breath, furrowing my brow in confusion. "Is he number one in rudeness?"

A pout formed on my lips as I rolled my eyes in his direction. I couldn't help but overhear the excited whispers around me.

"He's sure to win! He's incredibly talented!" one voice declared.

"Of course he is," another chimed in, "he's not only the top disciple in his own sect, but in all four sects! No one has ever been able to beat him."

A nearby female disciple gasped, her eyes wide with a blossoming smile on her face. "Did you know? He apparently doesn't even mingle with anyone. Not even within his own sect! And the leader absolutely dotes on him!"

The more I listened to the whispers, the more curious I became about this enigmatic figure. Was he truly as friendless as the crowd made him out to be? Or was there more to him than met the eye?

One thing was certain: despite my initial frustration with his apparent lack of appreciation for the cheers, Lu Zhao Yun had undoubtedly sparked my interest. Perhaps, just perhaps, this competition wouldn't be as dull as I initially feared.

 As Lu Zhao Yun stood amidst the roaring applause, a wide smile bloomed across my face. My enthrallment, however, was abruptly interrupted by a searing pain on my hand. I yelped and snatched my hand away, finding it splashed with hot tea. Glancing up, I saw the maid who was supposed to be serving me. Her attention, however, was entirely elsewhere.

Oblivious to my discomfort, the maid continued pouring tea from the teapot, the cup already overflowing. Frustration bubbled within me.

"Hey!" I exclaimed, my voice sharp with irritation. My fingers throbbed where the hot liquid had scalded them. Still lost in her own world, the maid paid no heed to my outburst, her gaze fixated on Lu Zhao Yun.

A low groan escaped my lips. This wasn't just happening to me. I saw similar scenes unfolding around me - elders distracted, the Duke himself seemingly lost in the moment, all due to the seemingly irresistible presence of the final disciple.

"It's full!" I yelled again, this time tapping the maid's hand firmly. Startled, she stumbled back, her head snapping towards me in surprise.

"Sorry, Your Highness," she stammered, her eyes wide with apology as she began cleaning up the mess she'd made.

With a sigh, I gestured for her to come closer. She knelt down, leaning her head towards me as I leaned in and whispered conspiratorially.

"Tell me," I murmured, "do you find him handsome too?"

A giggle erupted from the maid, her face flushing crimson. "Even with the mask, Your Highness! I can't take my eyes off him!"

My blood ran cold. Fury surged through me, replacing the amusement I had felt moments ago. My hand lashed out, a stinging blow connecting with the maid's head. She yelped and scrambled to her feet, bowing deeply with the tray held tight in her trembling hands.

Stifling a further outburst, I forced myself to turn away, my gaze settling back on Lu Zhao Yun. His stoic demeanor remained unchanged, oblivious to the chaos he had unknowingly caused. But my initial attraction had soured, replaced by a bitter resentment.

This "rude guy," as I dubbed him in my mind, had managed to capture not only the crowd's attention, but also the maid's, and now, it seemed, my own unwanted fascination. He had ignited a storm within me, and I was determined to unravel the mystery behind his captivating presence.

The panicked cry of "Sorry, Your Highness!" echoed through the air as the clumsy maid scurried away. Yet, every time I turned my gaze, there she was, a lovestruck grin plastered across her face as she unabashedly ogled the "rude guy." The sight was enough to make me clench my fists, the urge to smash something rising within me.

Suddenly, a woman from the royal treasury emerged, her voice cutting through the chatter and startled gasps as she ascended the stairs leading to the stage. Taking a deep breath, she boomed, "Every session has its set of rules!"

Her announcement silenced not only the crowd but also the maid, momentarily breaking her trance. The woman continued, her voice clear and firm, "This competition consists of three rounds. No participant is to inflict harm on another during the sword fights. Each disciple is given only one chance, and any who injure their opponent will be immediately disqualified.

"The first round involves the initial sword fight. The second will be an animal hunt, followed by the final round, a sword fight between the remaining two disciples. Punctuality is expected from all participants."

With a final bow to the audience, she returned to her seat. The elders exchanged confident smiles and stood up, greeting each other before heading towards Duke Wei.

His face softened as the elders approached, their bows a gesture of respect. They then turned to me, bowing before exiting to offer their well wishes and advice to their respective disciples.

In response, I dipped my head in a respectful bow as they descended the stairs and approached the waiting participants. My eyes followed their movements as the disciples from the four sects gathered around their representatives, their excitement palpable in their animated jumps and eager chatter.

The anticipation hung heavy in the air, and despite my initial annoyance, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of interest ignite within me. This competition, it seemed, promised more than just a display of swordsmanship.

In contrast to the jubilant reunions between other participants and their fellow disciples, the Luoxia Sect representatives remained a picture of quiet composure. Although a hint of pride glinted in their eyes at Lu Zhao Yun's selection, they didn't attempt to engage him in conversation. Only two disciples stood near him, exchanging discreet glances.

"Senior Brother," one, Su Mo, piped up, tapping Lu Zhao Yun on the shoulder, "your reputation with the ladies seems well-earned! They all turn rosy-cheeked in your presence."

Lu Zhao Yun, however, remained impassive. He offered no response to the teasing remark, simply acknowledging Su Mo with a curt nod and turning his attention towards his approaching master.

Meanwhile, the attention Lu Zhao Yun garnered wasn't limited to the crowd. A flurry of palace maids, their faces flushed with unconcealed admiration, surrounded him like moths drawn to a flame. My stomach churned with a mixture of annoyance and something I couldn't quite define.

His master's arrival dispersed the crowd of maids, their gazes lingering on Lu Zhao Yun until they were out of sight.

"Rong'Er!" a familiar voice called. I turned to find Zhen Lan approaching, his lips curved into a gentle smile, his hands hidden playfully behind his back. Before I could react, Bai Ying practically leaped out of her seat and rushed towards us.

Forcing a smile, I waved at Zhen Lan and, with a mischievous glint in my eyes, jumped onto his back. My nimble fingers reached behind him, skillfully snatching a pouch adorned with intricate stitching. Holding the prize aloft, I met his gaze, a playful challenge in my own eyes. He merely chuckled, his smile widening.

The competition may have just begun, but it was clear that the presence of Lu Zhao Yun, and perhaps even Zhen Lan's unexpected arrival, had injected a dose of unexpected intrigue and amusement into this seemingly mundane event.

The pouch felt cool and smooth in my hands, the intricate design sending a thrill through me. However, a shadow crossed my face as I realized I hadn't yet told Zhen Lan about my escapes. My thoughts were interrupted by the booming voice of Duke Wei, who approached with A'Ying.

A'Ying scoffed as she saw me, her face contorted in annoyance. I offered her a cheerful wave, met only with a dismissive turn of the head and a pursed lip. Feeling foolish, I quickly withdrew my hand, avoiding further attention.

General Su appeared soon after, bowing respectfully before calling for Zhen Lan. He sighed, offering me a warm smile before departing with the General and his female assistant.

"Did you keep your word?" Zhen Lan inquired, reaching for the scroll. I responded with a confident nod and a wide smile, my eyes drifting towards Lu Zhao Yun and his master.

"I know you can do it!" I called out, my voice filled with encouragement. "Take care of yourself here. Don't disappoint me!"

He simply nodded, his gaze dropping briefly, before connecting with mine. With a deliberate movement, he folded a black cloak and draped it over his shoulders. "Keep this too," he stated, his voice almost inaudible. "It gets cold down the mountains."

My cheeks flushed, and I hurriedly looked away, masking my reaction with forced laughter. I pulled out the scroll and offered it to Duke Wei with a strained smile. He retrieved it with a curt nod and a disapproving look etched on his face.

The air crackled with a mix of anticipation and nervous energy. The initial competition had begun, but it was the unexpected arrival of Zhen Lan and the lingering mystery surrounding Lu Zhao Yun that truly captivated my attention.

My smile faltered the moment I saw Duke Wei's reaction. The exuberant energy I had moments ago fizzled out, replaced by a sinking feeling in my stomach. I had gambled, and it seemed I had lost.

"Uncle, I worked on this all night!" I whined, hopping on one leg in a desperate attempt to regain his approval. "My eyes are sore, and my delicate hands..."

But he wasn't listening. His gaze was fixed on the scroll, his brow furrowed in disapproval. The gloom that settled in his eyes mirrored the diminishing smile on my face.

"Backfired imprinting," he finally muttered, his voice laced with disappointment. "You're to stand in the snow for half a day to reflect on your manners!"

He raised the scroll for me to see, and my heart sank further. The characters sprawled across the paper were an illegible mess, smudged and smeared beyond recognition. A large black blotch, a result of my hasty escape, marred the center, a testament to my carelessness.

Bai Ying's triumphant laughter echoed in my ears as she walked past me, adding salt to the wound. Just then, I remembered the culprit - the ink-laden brush I had abandoned on the table in my rush to dress for the ceremony.

I was about to unleash a torrent of self-pity when a scoff pierced the air. I spun around to see "the rude guy," Lu Zhao Yun, walking away with the other disciples towards their designated quarters. His stoic expression offered no hint of amusement or pity, yet his presence seemed to amplify my humiliation.

The words stuck in my throat, leaving me speechless as I watched him disappear into the distance. Duke Wei's parting shot, delivered with a shake of his head, only added to my mortification.

"Make sure you're on time tomorrow too. You were late today. I saw you."

With that, he turned away, leaving me standing alone in the snow, the weight of my punishment and the sting of Lu Zhao Yun's indifference settling heavily upon me. The day, which had begun with excitement and anticipation, had taken a drastic turn, leaving me facing a cold, lonely reflection amidst the falling snow.

Fury coursed through my veins. "That guy wants a piece of me!" I snarled, the scowl on my face deepening. "And he's going to get it!"

A'Ying, catching the simmering anger in my eyes, burst into fresh laughter. Following my gaze, she tapped my shoulder. "You also like him, don't you?" she teased. "He is the best swordsman in all the sects. I'd love to duel him myself! And think of it as a thank you for getting me out of the palace safely."

Her words barely registered. My mind was consumed with the single burning desire – to make "the rude guy" pay. Ignoring A'Ying's protests, I ripped a blue cloth from my robe and rolled up my green boots.

"Rong'Er, don't tell me you're planning to follow them..." A'Ying trailed off, her voice laced with disbelief as she surveyed my attire.

"You can leave if you want," I retorted, my tone sharp. "But I'm not!"

"You're engaged, remember? Getting caught anywhere near the men's quarters would mean a far worse punishment than standing in the snow."

"I've had worse punishments than that," I muttered, dismissing her concerns.

"But—" A'Ying began, her voice filled with worry and exasperation.

Before she could finish, I was already dashing towards the group of disciples, leaving A'Ying behind with a heavy sigh. She reluctantly followed me, keeping a safe distance as I flitted across the rooftops, my movements swift and silent.

Two maids led the disciples along a path towards a large house nestled near the riverbank. Peach blossom trees bloomed in abundance around the house, casting a delicate veil of pink over the scene.

I landed silently behind the wall, my heart pounding in my chest. A'Ying caught up, scanning the area with a nervous glance. Relief washed over her face as she nudged me towards the return path.

However, defiance burned brighter than ever within me. I planted myself firmly on the spot, determined to get a glimpse of Lu Zhao Yun, even if it meant disobeying A'Ying.

A'Ying sighed, her exasperation evident. She waved a hand dismissively, clearly unwilling to be further involved in my impulsive act.

"You found it! Let's return now," A'Ying whispered urgently, her voice barely reaching my ears.

I watched as the disciples entered the house, their figures disappearing behind the closed doors. A strange mixture of anger and curiosity churned within me. Who was this "rude guy" who had managed to capture both my annoyance and, perhaps something else I couldn't quite define, in such a short time?

A flicker of amusement danced in Mo Yan's eyes as he entered the shared house, the building split into four identical sections. Xiao Fan, playful yet imposing, stood by two rooms, blocking Su Ruo's path with his arm outstretched.

Su Ruo, her head bowed in acquiescence, attempted to move past him to the right, but he swiftly shifted, blocking her way once more. A glint of metal caught her eye as Lu Zhao Yun, the "rude guy," materialized behind Xiao Fan, a sword effortlessly drawn and positioned at the back of his neck.

Surprise painted Xiao Fan's face as he raised his hands in surrender, stepping back with a sheepish grin. "I'm Xiao Fan," he announced, his voice laced with a playful charm. "Come find me tonight, Su Ruo. We can share some good wine!"

Su Ruo glanced up, her eyes meeting Lu Zhao Yun's. A silent exchange of gratitude passed between them before she ducked past Xiao Fan and entered her designated room.

The weight of Lu Zhao Yun's gaze settled on me as he sheathed his sword and strode purposefully towards the riverside. Curiosity piqued, I followed him at a safe distance, his every movement radiating an aura of practiced skill.

He drew his sword again, the weapon a blur in his hands as he twirled it with practiced ease, leaping and spinning in a mesmerizing display of swordsmanship. I watched, captivated by his talent, a gasp escaping my lips as he effortlessly wielded the blade.

Suddenly, he pivoted, his movements sharp and precise. The tip of his sword found its mark, pointed directly at the base of my neck. I stumbled back, a startled gasp escaping my lips as my wide eyes meet his.

"I-It's me—" I stammered, fumbling to rip the cloth from my face, desperate to reveal my identity.

But before I can utter another word, a sound reached Lu Zhao Yun's ears. He reacted swiftly, grabbing my arm and pulling me behind a nearby wall, one hand instantly clamping over my mouth to stifle any sound. He pressed my body against the rough stone, effectively caging me between his own and the cold wall.

His warm breath tickled my ear as he lowered his head, his face mere inches from mine. A jolt of electricity shot through you. Is he going to kiss me?

      Comment 🌸 Vote 🌸 Share

Are her thoughts true, is he actually going to kiss her?

Why did he defend Su Ruo?

What does Xiao Fan want from her?

Why doesn't Zhao Yun mingle with anyone?

Who is Rong'Er engaged to?