Chapter 31: Partners?

Back at the Academy, Lan Yue couldn’t sleep.

She lay on Zhao Lingxi’s bed—not her own narrow cot in the adjoining room, but the silk-sheeted bed that still carried the faint scent of her mistress. Cold mountain pine and something warmer beneath it, something uniquely Zhao Lingxi.

She had told herself it was practical. The main room was better positioned to hear if anyone approached. She was guarding the quarters.

Liar, her own mind whispered. You just miss her.

She pulled the pillow closer and stared at the ceiling.

Day one. Two more to go.

Morning came gray and cold.

Lan Yue had promised to watch over Zhao Han, so she made her way to the lower quarters where the boy was staying with Liu Ruyan. The Academy had grudgingly allowed him to remain on the grounds while his sister was a student—a courtesy that likely came from Mo Tian’s influence rather than any goodwill.

She found Zhao Han sitting on a bench in the courtyard, swinging his legs and eating a steamed bun.

“Lan Yue!” His face brightened. “Did Elder Sister send a signal flare? Is she winning?”

“No signal means she’s fine.” Lan Yue sat beside him. “If she was in trouble, we’d know.”

“Because she’d have beaten the trouble unconscious before it could send a distress call?”

Lan Yue laughed. “Exactly.”

They sat together in comfortable silence. Then Zhao Han asked, in a smaller voice, “Lan Yue… do you think Elder Sister likes that silver-haired girl?”

The question hit like a dart between the ribs.

“What makes you say that?” Lan Yue asked, keeping her voice carefully neutral.

“I saw them talking before the Trials. That Bai girl stood really close. And Elder Sister didn’t push her away.” He frowned. “Elder Sister pushes everyone away.”

Except me, Lan Yue thought, and immediately felt guilty for thinking it.

“They’re just partners for the trial,” she said. “It’s strategy.”

Zhao Han studied her with eyes far too perceptive for a child his age. “You don’t like her either, do you?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Your ears are red again.”

“They are not—” Lan Yue clapped her hands over her ears. “Why does everyone keep saying that?!”

Zhao Han giggled, and the tension broke.

Meanwhile, deep in the Misty Gorge, the second day had begun.

Zhao Lingxi woke before dawn, her internal clock sharper than any rooster. She and Bai Xuelan had taken turns keeping watch through the night, sheltered in a shallow cave they’d found near the central plateau.

The mist had thickened overnight, pressing against the cave entrance like a living wall.

“We collected twelve tokens yesterday,” Zhao Lingxi said, checking their haul. “Based on the map, the highest-value tokens are deeper in, past the Whispering Falls.”

Bai Xuelan stretched lazily, her silver hair cascading over one shoulder. “The Whispering Falls. Where the mist is thickest and the beasts are strongest.” Her lips curved. “My favorite kind of place.”

They set off immediately.

The path narrowed as they descended. Twisted roots gave way to slick stone, and the sound of rushing water echoed from somewhere below. The mist here moved differently—not drifting, but swirling in deliberate patterns, as if guided by invisible hands.

Zhao Lingxi felt it before she saw it.

Spiritual energy. Human. Two sources.

She raised her fist—the universal signal to stop.

Bai Xuelan halted instantly, her ice-blue eyes sharpening.

Through the mist, voices drifted toward them.

“—just grab the tokens and get out. I don’t want to be here longer than necessary.”

“Relax. We’ve already got fifteen. More than enough to win.”

Zhao Lingxi recognized the second voice. Her jaw tightened.

Shen Zhiran.

She pressed herself against the rock wall and peered through a gap in the mist. Two figures stood near a cluster of Spirit Jade tokens hovering above a stone altar. Shen Zhiran and his partner—a wiry girl with sharp features whom Lan Yue had identified during the first week as Lin Meihua, daughter of a wealthy merchant family with ties to the Shen household.

“They have fifteen,” Bai Xuelan whispered. “Three more than us.”

“Not for long,” Zhao Lingxi murmured.

She studied the terrain. The altar sat on a narrow ledge above the Whispering Falls. One path in, one path out. If Shen Zhiran and his partner left with those tokens, they’d have a significant lead.

But the rules of the Trials were clear: you could take tokens from other pairs. By any means necessary.

“I’ll handle Shen Zhiran,” Zhao Lingxi said quietly. “You take the girl.”

Bai Xuelan’s smile turned predatory. “With pleasure.”

They struck like shadows.

Zhao Lingxi burst from the mist without warning. Shen Zhiran barely had time to turn before her palm connected with his chest, sending a pulse of spiritual energy through his body that locked his muscles for a crucial half-second.

“You—!” he choked.

“Me,” she confirmed.

He recovered faster than expected, drawing a short blade and slashing at her midsection. Zhao Lingxi leaned back, the blade passing a hair’s width from her stomach. She could feel the displaced air against her skin.

He’s improved since the entrance examination. Someone’s been training him.

Shen Zhiran pressed his advantage, his attacks fueled by rage and wounded pride. “You think you can humiliate my family and get away with it?!” he snarled. “First my cousin, now me?!”

“Your cousin humiliated himself,” Zhao Lingxi said coolly, deflecting another strike. “And you’re about to do the same.”

She let him overextend on his next lunge. The moment his weight shifted forward, she pivoted, caught his wrist, and twisted. His blade clattered to the ground. A swift kick to his knee sent him sprawling.

Zhao Lingxi planted her foot on his chest—the same way she had with Zhao Ruoqing weeks ago.

“Your tokens,” she said. “Now.”

Shen Zhiran’s face contorted with fury, but he was beaten and he knew it. Through gritted teeth, he tossed a pouch at her feet.

Behind them, the sound of combat had already stopped. Bai Xuelan stood over Lin Meihua, who sat on the ground cradling a frozen wrist. Ice crystals glittered in the girl’s hair.

“She had seven more in a hidden pocket,” Bai Xuelan said casually, tossing a second pouch to Zhao Lingxi.

Twenty-two tokens now. Combined with their original twelve, that made thirty-four.

Shen Zhiran scrambled to his feet, his expression murderous. “This isn’t over, Zhao Lingxi.”

“It never is with your family.” She turned her back on him—the ultimate dismissal.

He stormed off into the mist, his partner limping after him.

They made camp that night near the Whispering Falls.

The sound of cascading water filled the darkness, a constant rushing that drowned out the gorge’s usual whispers. Bai Xuelan built an ice barrier around their campsite—a thin, translucent wall that would shatter loudly if anything tried to break through.

“Smart,” Zhao Lingxi acknowledged.

“I have my moments.” Bai Xuelan settled against a rock, studying Zhao Lingxi across the small fire they’d built. The flames cast dancing shadows across both their faces.

“Your combat style,” Bai Xuelan said. “It’s not from any standard school. Too efficient. Too ruthless. Where did you learn it?”

“Trial and error.”

“Ten years of trial and error in the countryside?”

Zhao Lingxi didn’t answer.

Bai Xuelan leaned forward, the firelight turning her silver hair to molten gold. “You’re full of secrets, Zhao Lingxi. The golden light. The impossible combat skill. That strange servant of yours who absorbed poison gas with her bare hands.”

Zhao Lingxi’s eyes snapped to hers. “How do you know about that?”

“I have my sources.” Bai Xuelan’s expression was unreadable. “The night before the exam. Assassins in your courtyard. And your little maid did something… extraordinary.”

The air between them turned razor-sharp.

“If you’re threatening her—” Zhao Lingxi began, her voice dropping to something dangerous.

“I’m not.” Bai Xuelan raised her hands. “I’m curious. That’s all. You fascinate me, and so does the company you keep.”

Zhao Lingxi stared at her for a long moment. The fire crackled between them.

“Lan Yue is off limits,” Zhao Lingxi said finally. Her voice was quiet, but the steel beneath it could cut stone. “Whatever you’re investigating, whatever you want from me—leave her out of it.”

Bai Xuelan tilted her head. Something shifted in her ice-blue eyes—surprise, perhaps. Or understanding.

“You care about her,” she said softly. “More than a mistress should care about a servant.”

Zhao Lingxi said nothing.

The silence spoke louder than words.

Bai Xuelan smiled—not her usual sharp, predatory grin, but something gentler. Almost sad.

“Noted,” she said quietly, and lay back against the rock, closing her eyes. “Get some rest. Tomorrow’s the last day.”

Zhao Lingxi sat by the fire long after Bai Xuelan’s breathing had steadied.

Her mind drifted—not to the Trials, not to tokens or enemies or ancient secrets.

To a girl with red ears who couldn’t hide her feelings. Who had saved her brother’s life without being asked. Who had stood up in a hall full of nobles and shouted the truth when no one else dared.

Lan Yue.

She touched the small cloth pouch that Lan Yue had pressed into her hand before the Trials. Inside were dried fruits, a healing pill, and a folded piece of paper.

Zhao Lingxi unfolded it.

Two words, written in Lan Yue’s messy handwriting:

Don’t die.

Her lips curved.

She folded the note carefully and tucked it inside her robe, close to her heart.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep