*"Drinking wine in such heavy snow—what refined taste you have, my lord!"*
Xue Rong wore a crimson short coat trimmed with silver, paired with charcoal-gray woolen trousers and a skirt. Her face was like a blooming peach blossom, a vibrant red plum in the silent depths of winter.
*"Care to share a jar with me?"* She stepped forward with a playful grin. For some reason, in the presence of this perpetually stern and aloof Minister of State Affairs, she couldn't help but reveal a girlish liveliness.
*"Miss Xue Rong, what a coincidence. I was just heading back. What brings you out in such cold weather?"*
Bai Changming's mind stalled for a moment. Stripped of his usual observational instincts, he found himself oddly uneasy in the face of such ordinary conversation.
A Minister of State Affairs trudging alone through the snow to buy cheap wine from a small shop—by any measure, it was neither dignified nor proper.
As Xue Rong fell into step beside him, he tilted the umbrella toward her out of courtesy. Only then did he notice the intricate cloud-like coils of her hair, pinned up with an agate hairpin adorned with silver-edged crimson beads. The red beads swayed with each step, their faint chime as light as a bell.
*With my hearing, how did I miss the sound of her hairpin? A careless oversight.*
Over a year had passed since their last meeting, yet the old mysteries surrounding her remained unsolved.
In rare moments of leisure, Bai Changming had sent people to track Xue Rong's movements, watching as she galloped further and further down a path that defied her predetermined fate. Meanwhile, Xue Rong had occasionally gathered news of Bai Changming from her father. In just over a year, she had witnessed this once-unremarkable fortune-teller ascend at a nearly supernatural pace, towering above ten thousand others.
Countless questions swirled in his mind, yet the one that escaped his lips was clumsy and utterly irrelevant:
*"Do you like wearing hairpins?"*
Even a battle-hardened Minister like him, who had navigated court intrigues and encountered countless beauties and courtesans, now found himself so flustered that he wanted to slap himself back into composure.
*"No. Most of them were just to please my father."* Xue Rong tilted her head up to look at him. Though she barely reached his chest, there was not a trace of fear or flattery in her eyes. *"What about you, my lord? You seem to like power very much."*
*"Just making a living. Since I came to this world, I had to find something to do."*
*"You're willing to harm yourself for status—I thought you cared deeply about these things."*
*"Status can be acquired. What I truly value… isn't here."*
He slowed his steps, nearly stopping in the snow. For a fleeting moment, Xue Rong's crimson attire seemed to shift into the red of maple leaves, and the sound of flowing water echoed from the depths of his memory.
Xue Rong studied his eyes. His figure, tall yet fragile against the swirling snow, seemed almost spectral. His face was pale, his gaze like falling into a starry abyss.
*"Do you believe in fate?"* His voice snapped her out of her reverie.
*"You've calculated so many fate charts for others—do* you *believe in it, my lord?"* Xue Rong smirked. *"As for me, I don't believe in Four Pillars, Eight Characters, Grand Cycles, or any of those celestial divinations boxing people in."*
Bai Changming chuckled at her earnest expression, finding it unexpectedly endearing. It occurred to him that this might be the first genuine laugh he'd had since chasing fame and power.
*"You know quite a lot. But those things don't box* me *in. So what about you? What do you believe?"*
*"When I first met you, I thought you were different from those half-baked fortune-tellers on the street. But after hearing you spout all that nonsense, turns out you're just like them."* Seeing his amusement, Xue Rong relaxed further, kicking a flurry of snow with her embroidered cloth shoes.
*"Just like them how?"* He suppressed another laugh.
*"The fortune-telling type!"* She kicked again, sending up another spray of snow.
Not satisfied, she scooped up a handful and tossed it high into the air before turning back to him:
*"You calculate fates for everyone else, yet you don't even believe in it yourself. That means there must be something beyond predetermined destiny! You must know this—otherwise, how could you have risen so high so quickly?"*
Her voice, bright and resonant, carried far on the windblown snow.
Bai Changming lowered his head with a faint smile, neither confirming nor denying.
*She really is a clever girl.*
*"Then what about you?"* he called after her. *"Who are you, really?"*
*"Guess!"* She stuck out her tongue playfully and dashed away.
*"Minister, I turn here! Thanks for the umbrella—see you around!"*
Bai Changming quietly used his magic to disperse half the wind and snow around her as that flash of crimson slowly vanished into the endless white.
Upon returning to his estate, his steward noticed an unusual flush on his normally pale, solemn face. As Bai Changming removed his robe and warmed his hands by the fire, the steward bowed and handed him an envelope.
At the bottom, in vermilion ink, was written:
Ling'an Temple.