Limitless Cultivation System: From Trash to Immortal

Chapter 152: The Answer They Chose

Xuan’s expression changed for a single breath.

It should not have been enough for anyone to catch. A small break in the line of his face, a thread of attention pulled somewhere far from the room, nothing more. Unfortunately, Su Qingyue was exactly the sort of person who could see a needle fall in snow and ask why the needle had been there in the first place.

She studied him from beside the window, the pale blue-white of Frostmoon still draped over her shoulders, the cracked-ice clasp in her black hair catching the lamplight. "Are you having doubts now?"

Xuan blinked. "What?"

"You agreed to it. You said you were willing to try, to know me slowly, and now you have the face of a man who just discovered the floor under him is thinner than expected." Her voice stayed calm, but there was a colder thread beneath it. "So I am asking before we walk back down. Are you going to step back?"

For half a heartbeat, he genuinely did not understand what she meant. His mind had gone to Blood Fang, to Mira, to Han Ying’s stolen body being moved deeper into a place they barely understood. Only when Su Qingyue’s words caught up did he realize his face must have betrayed more than he had intended.

’Right. Brilliant. Nearly ruin the betrothal talk because my secret insect spy got invited somewhere suspicious.’

A small panel flickered at the edge of his vision, Mira’s presence slipping in with an almost offended brightness.

[ I already told you that you can trust me, Xuan. Everything is under control. For now, I am only waiting to meet someone while standing perfectly still in Han Ying’s body. ]

’That face does not inspire professionalism, Mira.’

[ It inspires confidence. You are simply jealous. ]

’Of the insect spy operation? Deeply.’

The corner of the panel pulsed with smug satisfaction before fading back. Nothing urgent, not yet. Han Ying was waiting. Mira was watching. Xuan had his own part to finish before letting his attention run toward Blood Fang and whatever hole had just opened there.

He looked back at Su Qingyue and softened his voice. "No. Sorry. That was not my intention. I gave you my word, and I mean to keep it."

Some of the frost left her face, though she did not let him have an easy victory. "Good. I would have been annoyed if you retreated after everything we just said."

"Only annoyed?"

"Do not test the generosity of the word."

He let out a quiet breath through his nose, almost a laugh. "Fair enough. Do you want to go tell them? I imagine our fathers are wondering where we disappeared to."

"They probably enjoyed it," Su Qingyue said as she moved toward the door. "Two heirs leaving together for a private talk makes older men feel clever. Add the answer we are bringing back, and my father at least will be pleased."

Xuan slid the door open for her, one eyebrow lifting. "You are that sure?"

"I am." She stepped into the corridor first, her sleeves brushing the frame. "He wanted this to happen almost more than I did."

She stopped as if the words had escaped before she could catch them. One hand rose lightly toward her mouth, not enough to hide her face, only enough to reveal that she had very much noticed what she had said.

Xuan noticed too. A man would have needed to be blind, deaf, and recently murdered not to notice. And since he had only managed one of those three things in this life, the opportunity sat there in front of him, gleaming.

"Almost more than you did?" he asked, following her down the stone steps from Silent Peak. "I knew you wanted me to accept, but I did not realize we had reached that level. Should I be flattered, Su Qingyue? Are you that interested in me?"

He asked it on purpose while they descended, because apparently dying once had done nothing to improve his survival instincts.

He was a few steps below her when her footsteps stopped.

Xuan turned, ready to ask if he had pushed the teasing further than he should have. The question died before reaching his mouth.

The wind moved along the mountain steps, cold and thin, and caught in her black hair where the cracked-ice clasp held most of it back. A few loose strands slipped across her cheek. Frostmoon’s pale colors suited her more than they had any right to, blue and white against her skin, elegant enough for a sect heir and light enough that she had walked into his mountain and claimed a room as if conquest required nothing more than good posture.

For the first time since he had known her, Su Qingyue was blushing.

Not much. She would probably deny it under oath, and maybe freeze the witness for the insult. But the color was there, warming the controlled lines of her face in a way that made Xuan forget, briefly, every clever thing he had ever said in either life.

She gathered herself with a breath and came down one step. "Yes. I was. And I am."

Xuan did not move.

"You caught my attention from the first day," she said, and now her voice had lost the safe distance she usually kept around it. "When you hid behind something so I would not see you while I was rejecting another young master. Do you remember that?"

"I had excellent instincts."

"You had terrible manners." Her mouth curved by the smallest amount. "But I remembered you. And the talks we had while watching the tournament bouts were easier than they should have been. I enjoyed them. I have not had that with many people."

She came down another step, not rushing, giving each word its place. "You are strange, Lin Xuan. Difficult to place. You say things people are not supposed to say, and somehow they are often the things that should have been said first. Perhaps that is what caught me. Perhaps it was because I could not predict you."

That one hit him somewhere awkward and warm.

"And later," she continued, quieter now, "you saved my life in that alley when we walked into a trap. When my father teased that a marriage agreement might come from the talks between our houses, because both patriarchs were already discussing the future war and a deeper alliance, I told him to offer it properly. To you. Not over my head."

She exhaled, the breath pale in the cold air, and resumed walking.

Xuan remained where he was for a few beats, abandoned on his own steps by the answer he had provoked. His face did not burn. He had too much pride left for that. His ears, traitorous little things, were apparently less disciplined.

Su Qingyue passed beside him and noticed. She did not say a word.

That mercy was somehow worse.

[ Wow. ] Mira’s voice arrived in his head, soft with open delight. [ Even I was not expecting that from the ice princess. ]

’Do not call her that.’

[ You are defending her already? Adorable. ]

’Mira.’

[ Your ears are red, Xuan. Both lives, and this is what finally defeats you. ]

He ignored her with the dignity of a man losing badly.

Lin Xuan, Ethan Reed, whatever line separated the two names these days, had never had someone speak to him like that. Not in the other world, where affection had usually come wrapped in awkward timing and worse decisions. Not in this one, where most people looked at him and saw either the cripple he had been or the blade he was becoming.

Su Qingyue had looked at the mess between those things and decided she wanted to know him anyway.

That was inconvenient.

That was also, he admitted, not unpleasant.

He caught up to her, matching her pace as the main pavilion came into view below. "It appears I know you a little better now."

"Only a little?"

"A dangerous amount," he said. "Enough to confirm I made the right decision."

Her gaze flicked toward him, cool again on the surface, though the color had not fully left her cheeks. "Good. I dislike having to correct bad decisions."

"I will keep making interesting ones, then. For your health."

"Very considerate."

They reached the lower landing. Warm light spilled from the main pavilion ahead, where two patriarchs were almost certainly pretending not to wait. Xuan could already imagine the room: Lin Zhen with that tired patience of his, Su Han looking as if he had known the answer before they had left, wine cooling between them while politics dressed itself as family business.

Xuan stopped outside the door.

Su Qingyue looked at him. "What now?"

"Now?" He glanced at the door, then at her, and made the sort of choice that would have horrified three etiquette instructors and delighted Mira for weeks.

He offered his hand.

Su Qingyue looked down at it.

For once, she did not answer immediately.

"This will cause talk," she said.

"We are about to announce a betrothal. I suspect talk is already on the menu."

Her eyes narrowed a little, but her hand came down into his. Her fingers were cold, unsurprisingly. His were warm enough to make the contrast obvious.

[ Oh, this is excellent, ] Mira whispered. [ Bold. Reckless. Slightly improper. Very you. ]

’Try not to narrate my hand, Mira.’

[ I would never. ]

Xuan pushed the door open with his free hand and walked in before either of them could turn the moment into something heavier than it needed to be.

Lin Zhen and Su Han both looked up.

Their eyes dropped, almost in perfect unison, to the joined hands.

Su Han’s mouth moved first, though no sound came out. Lin Zhen leaned back by a fraction, and the tiredness around his eyes gave way to something far more dangerous for Xuan’s dignity.

Hope.

Xuan lifted Su Qingyue’s hand just enough that pretending became impossible, and took the reins before either father could decide to be subtle.

"Father. Patriarch Su." His voice came out steadier than his heartbeat had any right to be. "We have our answer."