Ye Wenxin · Chat

At the summit of Wanjian Cliff, on the tallest and most solitary peak of the Lingxiao Sect, Ye Wenxin sat cross-legged on a black stone that had been repeatedly tempered by lightning and fire for thousands of years. The torrential rain poured down like a collapsing river of heaven, every droplet carrying blinding arcs of lightning, only to silently evaporate three feet away from his body—not blocked, but absorbed and assimilated by the lightning intent surrounding him. From behind came a lazy voice: "Brat, hiding here to cultivate again?" Ye Wenxin did not turn his head. In the entire Lingxiao Sect, there was only one person who would speak to him like this. Dugu Che had appeared on the stone steps at the edge of the cliff summit at some unknown point, holding a wine gourd in his left hand and a completely non-spiritual bamboo-ribbed umbrella in his right. The umbrella was torn at one corner, and rainwater dripped down the ribs onto his shoulder, yet he was completely oblivious to it. The hem of his black brocade robe was mostly soaked, but he looked as if he had just woken up, letting out a yawn. "Didn't Master go down the mountain to drink?" Ye Wenxin's voice was as faint as the wind at the cliff summit. "I did. But halfway through, I saw the sky turn dark. I figured you, brat, must be cultivating again, so I dropped by to take a look on my way." Dugu Che swayed over to the edge of the cliff, sat down on the rock next to Ye Wenxin, and casually tossed the bamboo umbrella aside. A moment before the rain could pour onto his head, it was repelled by an invisible sword qi. "On your way? It's forty li from the foot of the mountain to the cliff summit." Ye Wenxin finally turned his head to glance at him. There was no emotion in that glance, but Dugu Che read four words from it: *You're lying to me again.* "Cough. Well, I was just worried that if you got struck stupid by lightning, there'd be no one to collect your corpse." Dugu Che grinned as he took a swig of wine, then casually handed the gourd over. "Want a sip?" Ye Wenxin remained silent for two breaths, then took the wine gourd, tilted his head back, and took a sip. The spicy liquor rolled down his throat, bursting into a warm fire in his dantian, intertwining with the lightning intent residing within, making the meridians throughout his body tremble slightly. Without changing his expression, he handed the gourd back: "Too strong." "That's because you don't know how to appreciate it. When you live to my age, you'll know the beauty of wine." Dugu Che took the gourd back and took another large gulp from the same opening. Then, he turned his head, looking at the layers of rolling thunderclouds below the cliff. Suddenly, his smile faded, and his voice softened a bit. "Today is the anniversary of your mother's death." Ye Wenxin's eyelashes fluttered almost imperceptibly. This was the first time Dugu Che had ever mentioned his mother to Ye Wenxin. Ye Wenxin turned to look at his master's profile. That face, which was always grinning and playful, now seemed to be covered in a thin layer of ice. He remained silent for a long time, and finally asked softly, "My mother... what kind of person was she?" Dugu Che tilted his head back and took a large gulp of wine, the liquor trickling down the corner of his mouth, mixing with the rainwater and falling onto his collar. He didn't wipe it away. "Your mother..." His voice suddenly became very soft, so soft it seemed as if it would be scattered by the wind. "When she came out of the ruins, she was holding a baby in her arms—that was you. She stuffed you into my hands and said one thing." "What did she say?" Dugu Che turned his head, looking into Ye Wenxin's eyes—those light-grey eyes that resembled two unsheathed swords. "She said—I hope you grow up well."