007 Origins (7)

And so, Nüluo gazed at the little girl, as if recalling those distant, early years of her own childhood.

The snow continued to fall—feathery, downy flakes drifting silently from the sky, settling on the child's flawless, crystalline skin. It was as though Nüluo had wandered into a dream: the swirling snow danced all around her, yet never touched her shoulders. She was an intruder in this dream. Reaching out to touch the snowflakes, she found they hovered just out of reach, slipping past her fingers, gliding unseen through her palms, as though she were nothing more than an insubstantial shadow, forever unable to alter anything in this place.

At last, the snow covered the little girl entirely, blanketing the world in pure white, obscuring her small, delicate form. The child seemed to lose the ability to move, or perhaps entered into a state of deep contemplation, unaware of the world’s transformations, dissolving into the gentle snowflakes. Her red clothes vanished, her features faded into the whiteness.

Nüluo watched in silence. This scene was achingly familiar, as though she herself had once experienced something just like this.

There was no wind, no sound; everything was still and tranquil. Any noise seemed a sacrilege, a disturbance to such serene beauty. Even the very air seemed to hide itself, leaving only the soft, delicate sound of snowflakes touching down, stirring the gentlest, deepest strings of the heart.

It was as if a remote valley glowed with a silent radiance, the universe utterly hushed. Even the sky seemed mute in this moment.

Suddenly, there was the faintest stir from the child's form—a ripple, gentle as water. Some power began to rise from the earth, gathering strength, slowly accumulating—the power of the land itself.

More and more snowflakes began to rise from the ground, drawn upwards by an unseen force, forming a massive circle in the air. The ring spun swiftly, pulling ever more snowflakes into its whirling dance. Countless fallen flakes rose again, swirling in the quiet space, pirouetting in midair.

Soon, more circles formed, weaving and intertwining, drawing closer together.

The girl in red gradually reappeared; her ten fingers trembled slightly, and the rings of snow transformed into a myriad of shapes.

Birds fluttered across the sky, chirping merrily, disappearing into distant forests; flowers bloomed in profusion; wild beasts darted between the blossoms, searching for food—all conjured from the snow in a dazzling mirage.

Her fingers still moved, and all these wondrous sights dissolved once more into flurries of snow, as though nothing had ever occurred.

The flying snowflakes began to merge, coalescing with sudden intensity, colliding fiercely together. With a resounding crack, a massive four-pointed snowflake appeared, slowly shrinking, shrinking, until it was no larger than a palm, floating gently down into the girl's hand. She gazed at the four-pointed snowflake, disappointment flickering across her face. With a gentle squeeze, it shattered, scattering and vanishing.

From afar, a boy in white and a girl in colorful clothes approached.

“Nüluo, you’re amazing! You can already control the four-pointed snowflake. I’m truly happy for you,” the boy beamed, his dark, bright eyes shining with delight.

But the girl in colorful clothes did not look so pleased. Her face was clouded with envy and jealousy, mixed with some complicated, unspoken emotion.

This little girl was also called Nüluo. Could it be she had entered her own memories? Yet, everything from that time was so blurry—so many details had faded away.

“Liujia, Leiling, what brings you here?” The red-clad Nüluo’s voice held a note of surprise, happy at the arrival of her companions.

“We’ve been here a while, watching you from afar! That was incredible just now. Your spiritual power has grown again—so much stronger than mine,” the boy said, a little envious but more genuinely delighted, as if her mastery of the four-pointed snowflake pleased him even more than if he himself had done it.

“I’ve worked very hard for a long time,” Nüluo confessed, though she still felt a twinge of regret—the control wasn’t as smooth as she’d hoped.

Leiling huffed coldly and muttered, “It’s nothing special. I can do it too.” She had practiced for so long, but the breakthrough still eluded her. She was both envious and a little jealous.

Nüluo and Liujia exchanged a glance at Leiling’s conflicted expression and burst into laughter.

Leiling grew even more upset, her cheeks flushed red.

“All right, all right. Leiling is the best—she’ll be even better in the future, right?” Liujia took both girls by the hand. “It’s rare for us to meet like this. Let’s not quarrel over such things.”

Leiling, however, remained dissatisfied. “I started practicing first, but I can only control the three-pointed snowflake, and you’re already managing the four-pointed one.”

Before Nüluo could reply, Liujia interjected, “Well, that’s because you’re always practicing with the Flame Sword. Aren’t you able to control four swords at once now? That makes you just as impressive in my book!”

At these words, Leiling’s expression softened noticeably.

Snow and fire were the ultimate expressions of ice and flame’s spiritual power. Reaching the third level, one could begin to control both elements.

The mood eased. Nüluo observed the scene from afar, thinking that perhaps this was the most harmonious time the three of them ever shared.

Those precious childhood days—when even trifles could spark anger, when they spurred each other on, urging their powers to new heights, when they could roam the world without a care. But childhood eventually slipped away. They grew up. The road finally diverged.

Another snow-covered night. Amid the swirling flurries stood a young girl in red.

Her crimson robe billowed like sunlight at the height of summer—brilliant and dazzling, the color of passion, the brightest hue of time. Her golden hair streamed in the snow, as radiant as a field at harvest, brimming with vitality and hope.

She stood alone in the snow, and a tremendous power surged through the world. Every snowflake answered her call, merging and fusing until at last, a colossal six-pointed snowflake burst forth—stunning, majestic.

She drew the six-pointed snowflake to herself, and with a wave of her hand, all returned to calm.

From the four-pointed snowflake to the six-pointed one, she had spent centuries in relentless practice. But now, from this day on, her mastery over the power of ice was complete; she could control all the ice in heaven and earth.

For this moment, she had toiled for centuries, pouring her heart and soul into her craft.

There was rumored to be an eighth level—the eight-pointed snowflake—but for the gods, it was as elusive as legend itself, recorded only in the ancient tomes of the divine realm.

In this generation, only Nüluo had attained the six-pointed snowflake; all others stopped at the fifth level.

Nüluo felt some joy—it meant her sacrifices had not been in vain.

Yet, a deeper happiness eluded her. For all her success, something gnawed at her heart.

She had not seen Liujia for a long time. Was he faring well in the divine realm? Why had he not come?

This unease grew, expanding inside her like a black hole, devouring all hope. As it widened and consumed, her already fragile confidence was forced to retreat, until at last, in some unguarded moment, it swallowed up the last small space, extinguishing another flicker of hope.

Nüluo bowed her head, imagining his figure—did he, too, gaze at the same landscape, did he also long for their next meeting? Did he, like her, keep a part of his heart always waiting for another’s arrival, yearning for reunion, hoping for that moment of encounter?

Longing is tinged with sorrow, yet it is also sweet, for it means there is still hope, still something to look forward to.

We stand beneath the same sky, we see the same sights—do we share the same faith?

Waiting can be endless, but it can also be fleeting. For the sake of meeting again, for the joy of reunion, every moment of waiting gains new meaning.

Nüluo pictured his face, his radiant smile, his vigor and charm. She imagined him suddenly standing behind her, gently patting her shoulder, his voice soft and warm: “I’m here.”

Thinking of that voice, picturing their imminent meeting, her heart brimmed with joy. She deliberately turned away from unwelcome thoughts—for this moment, there was only happiness in waiting.