The tranquil rustle of leaves swayed gracefully with the gentle caress of the night breeze as Chen Ying found himself standing alone on a modest little bridge that arched over the serene waters of his family's ancestral residence. The moon hung high above in the velvety night sky, its silvery luminescence reflecting off the water beneath his feet, casting a kaleidoscope of shimmering lights that danced in harmony with the subtle ripples of the river. His robe, a deep shade of indigo, billowed softly around him, whispering secrets of the past as the cool air enveloped him like a comforting embrace.
As he lowered himself onto the wooden planks of the bridge, his gaze grew fixed on the placid surface of the river below. The moonlight accentuated the sharp contours of his face, rendering his contemplative eyes almost ethereal, as if they could capture the light and hold it forever. Lost in thought, he murmured almost inaudibly, "My mother... was a florist." His fingers brushed delicately against the silken petals of a lotus flower protruding from the water's edge, and he could almost feel the warmth of her spirit surrounding him. "That must explain the Jade Lotus Body I've inherited." These words escaped his lips like a soft sigh, filled with yearning and a bittersweet nostalgia.
His voice, barely a whisper, hung suspended in the cool night air, suffused with a longing that seemed to resonate with the silence around him. He tilted his head towards the vast expanse of the sky, his eyes fixed upon the luminous orb of the moon, as if searching for a lost treasure buried in the past—a connection to the mother he dearly missed, a longing for guidance, for understanding that had eluded him over the years.
But this reflective moment was soon interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the bridge, breaking the serene stillness. A familiar, aged voice called from behind him, reverberating through the night. "Ying'er…"
Chen Ying turned slowly, his heart racing as he recognized the figure emerging from the shadows. His eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of Chen Hao, his father, a man he had not laid eyes upon for what felt like an eternity, now approaching him with the moonlight framing his silhouette like a forgotten ghost of his past.
Without a moment's hesitation, he descended from the bridge, his steps steady yet infused with hesitation, as if each footfall weighed heavily with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. The distance between them closed swiftly, and before Chen Ying could fully process the moment, Chen Hao stepped forward, enveloping him in a firm embrace. It was a gesture that felt foreign yet strangely familiar, the arms that were once cold and distant now trembling with a flood of emotions that had long been suppressed.
"You've grown so much..." Chen Hao spoke, his voice thick with a mix of pride and regret. He pulled back just enough to scrutinize Chen Ying's face, his eyes narrowing slightly in a mixture of awe and disbelief. "And you've begun cultivating... that's good. That's very good." A rare, genuine smile broke through the man's typically stoic demeanor, illuminating a softness in his features that Chen Ying had never hoped to see.
"Come," Chen Hao beckoned with a warmth that seemed to bridge the chasm of years lost. "Let's make up for lost time, Ying'er." He took his son's hands in his own, weathered, calloused palms that spoke of hard lives lived and lessons learned, now cradling the youthful hands of a boy who had been thrust into the harshness of adulthood far too soon.
Chen Ying stood there, momentarily stunned, a whirlwind of emotions churning within him like a tempest. "Is this truly my father…?" he thought to himself, his heart caught in a crossfire of conflicting feelings. "The very same man who ruthlessly ended a life without mercy? This relentless figure... how can this gentle, open demeanor belong to him?"
But amidst the chaos of his thoughts, he found a measure of resolve and nodded, though his expression remained inscrutable. "Yes, Father… there's a lot I need to tell you."
A deep chuckle escaped Chen Hao's lips, resonant and warm, as he placed a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder. Together, they began to walk side by side, their silhouettes woven together in the silver light of the moon—a father and son, reunited amidst a backdrop of memories both cherished and painful.
Yet, behind the calm facade that Chen Ying wore—beneath his serene exterior—swirled a tempest of questions, doubts, and the tumult of unresolved conflict. The night was still, but within him, echoes of the past cried out for answers, and the weight of unuttered truths hung heavy in the air as they moved further along the bridge, into the uncertain depths of their reconciliation
The morning sun gently emerged through a curtain of wispy clouds, casting a soft, pale light on the stone path in front of the Chen family's gates. A sharp wind whipped around Chen Jin, who knelt at the gate—treated and humiliated—his tears falling freely.
He grasped the earth beneath him, his knuckles turning white with desperation. "Please... let me in... I'm still part of this family..." he wept, but the gate remained resolutely shut.
A verdict had been handed down—Chen Jin was banished, stripped of his Chen identity. Inside, silence reigned. No one moved. No one responded. The imposing Chen gates stood before him like a cold, unyielding fortress.
Outside the outer courtyard, Chen Ying stood at ease, his hands clasped behind his back, his white Hanfu flowing softly in the morning breeze. Though his stance was relaxed, his keen eyes were fixed on the entrance, waiting alongside some family members for the entourage from the Ice Palace. Clan members stood nearby, all dressed in protective garments against the frost.
Without warning, a chill swept through the air.
"She's here," Chen Ying murmured, his gaze drawn to a familiar figure gliding gracefully down the stone path—Yan Mei.
She was the epitome of icy elegance. Clad in her Ice Palace disciple robes—a shimmering blue Hanfu adorned with intricate snowflake embroidery, complemented by a fur-trimmed shawl—she radiated a blend of sophistication and aloofness. A veil masked her lips, while her diamond-like skin glimmered delicately in the morning sun. Her gloved hands interlaced together, her steps graceful and quiet.
Chen Ying allowed himself a fleeting glance, admiring her presence and pondering the prestige of the Ice Palace.
Yan Mei paused beside him, a flicker of untold emotions concealed behind her composed gaze.
"Ah Ying... I left something in your room," she mentioned nonchalantly, though her voice hinted at deeper feelings—perhaps frustration or yearning.
Chen Ying raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I'll check it later," he replied, his tone calm and inscrutable as his attention wandered toward the sky, where delicate frost began to fall in swirling flakes.
Yan Mei tightened her fists subtly beneath her sleeves. "He doesn't even inquire about what I left… he's changed. Not a word about that song last night either… But it's fine. This marriage was never genuine."
Suddenly, gasps erupted from the guards and disciples nearby as snowflakes began to dance wildly in the air, signaling the arrival of powerful cultivators.
Descending from the sky, a host of Ice Palace maidens floated down on spiritual swords that gleamed like frozen stars. Leading them was Bing Qiang, the renowned Ice Empress.
Gracefully, she alighted atop a crystalline sword that hovered a few feet above the ground. Her long blonde hair sparkled with icy white streaks, a testament to her strong connection with the frost element. Draped in a flowing ice-blue Hanfu embellished with fur and snow lotus motifs, she wielded a staff carved from glacial jade, her expression as frigid as the air around her.
Her followers trailed behind—elegant snow maidens in fluttering robes that resembled icy banners.
One of the girls whispered excitedly, eyes locked on Chen Ying. "Wow... what a stunning woman! She should invite her to join our sect!"
Another disciple nudged her and whispered back, "Ayah, that's a man! He's Yan Mei's Husband—Chen Ying."
The first girl blinked in surprise. "A man?! Senior Yan is fortunate..."
Bing Qiang let out a small sigh, her icy gaze narrowing on her disciples' banter before snapping her attention to Chen Ying.
"So, this is the so-called Husband Hmph." Her mind flared with judgment. "A Yin constitution in a man? How shameful. He's hardly at Qi Condensation. Such weakness… he doesn't deserve Yan Mei. I won't allow him to obstruct her future."