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There’s a horse that has been coming to Lotus Pier.
Jiang Cheng usually doesn’t pay much attention to the wild horses. They come and go in herds, grazing and drinking for short periods of time before they’re on the move again.
But this horse comes alone. It doesn’t seem to have a herd.
The first time Jiang Cheng saw the horse, he thought he was seeing things. Beneath the sun, its white coat gleamed like freshly fallen snow. Its mane and tail, flowing in silken waves, appeared almost translucent in the sunlight, gracefully dancing in the wind.
He had gone home, certain that the white horse was nothing more than a figment of his imagination. But the next day, he returned to that same spot on the outskirts of Lotus Pier, and there it was again. Just a few paces away, the horse stood, watching him with intelligent eyes, as if waiting for him.
Jiang Cheng keeps coming back. He doesn’t know exactly what draws him to this mysterious white horse, but something compels him to return day after day. The fact remains—he keeps coming, and the horse is always there, waiting for him.
He doesn’t move from where he stood the first day he saw the white horse, but the white horse inches closer to him day by day. After a few weeks, the horse is almost close enough to touch.
Jiang Cheng doesn’t touch, of course. He knows better than to betray the fragile trust of a creature like this. Any sudden move could shatter the delicate bond they’ve begun to form, so he keeps his hands to himself, letting the horse come to him on its own terms.
He begins to bring treats, though. Lemons, apples, carrots, sweet potatoes. He holds them in his open palm, just waiting for the day the horse is brave enough to reach out and take one. Each time he visits, he stands quietly, hoping today might be the day the horse’s curiosity overcomes its caution.
It doesn’t take as long as Jiang Cheng expected for the horse to take a treat from his hand. One day, without hesitation, the horse steps closer, its velvety muzzle brushing against his palm as it gently takes the offering. Afterward, the horse remains still, gazing at Jiang Cheng with those dark, intelligent eyes. Slowly, cautiously, Jiang Cheng raises a hand. When the horse doesn’t flinch or pull away, he lets his hand fall gently onto its soft neck, brushing his fingers through the silken hair.
When Jiang Cheng returns the next day, the white horse is nowhere in sight. Instead, standing in the very spot where Jiang Cheng had stood for so many days, is the most beautiful man he’s ever seen.
Gorgeous black hair tied into a sleek ponytail. Defined features that make the man seem almost otherworldly. Smooth, flawless skin that catches the light perfectly, enhancing his ethereal presence. For a moment, Jiang Cheng just gapes at him, completely taken aback by the man’s beauty, before snapping back to reality. “Who are you?” he demands.
“Liu Qingge,” the man offers.
Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes at Liu Qingge. “And what are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” Liu Qingge says. “Doesn’t the sect leader of Yunmeng Jiang have better things to do with his time than feed a wild horse?”
Jiang Cheng instantly bristles, tension rising in his chest. “Have you been watching me?” he snaps, his voice edged with suspicion and irritation.
Liu Qingge snorts. “You jump to conclusions quickly.” He uncrosses his arms, and before Jiang Cheng can blink, the white horse is in front of him again.
Jiang Cheng blinks rapidly, glancing around in confusion, searching for any sign of Liu Qingge. But there’s no trace of the man. His gaze shifts back to the horse, whose dark eyes gleam with a knowing light—something Jiang Cheng hesitates to call amusement. “You’re the horse?” Jiang Cheng blurts out, disbelief and bewilderment in his voice.
A moment later, Liu Qingge is standing before Jiang Cheng again, as effortlessly as he had disappeared. “Mn,” he affirms with a slight nod. “Thank you for the lemon,” he adds.
“You—” Jiang Cheng sputters. His head spins. A cultivator that can transform into a horse? He’s never heard of such a thing. He shakes his head. “What are you— No, what are you doing, pretending to be a normal wild horse?” His anger flares again. “Did you think sneaking around Lotus Pier was some kind of joke?”
For a moment, Liu Qingge’s calm demeanor falters, and a shadow of regret crosses his face. “No,” he says softly. “I came to Lotus Pier because I needed help. I could have shown myself as a man from the start, but I didn’t know if I could trust you—or if you’d trust me. I had to be certain the person I approached was… the right one.”
Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrow, skepticism still in his voice. “The right one?” he repeats, his tone dry. “And what exactly was I supposed to prove? That I can give a lemon to a horse without kicking it?”
Liu Qingge shakes his head. “It wasn’t about feeding a horse,” he replies. “It was about whether you could show kindness without expecting something in return.”
Jiang Cheng crosses his arms. “And what if I hadn’t?” he challenges. “If I’d just chased you away?”
“Then I would have left,” Liu Qingge answers without hesitation. “And I would have found another way, even if it took longer.” His gaze meets Jiang Cheng’s, steady and unflinching. “But you didn’t. You came back, again and again. You waited patiently. That told me enough.”
There’s a tightness in Jiang Cheng’s chest, an uneasy mix of irritation and something he can’t quite name. “You talk like you’ve figured me out,” he mutters, looking away. “But watching me for a few weeks doesn’t mean you know who I am.”
“No,” Liu Qingge admits. “But it was enough for me to take a chance on you.”
Jiang Cheng scowls, his arms dropping back to his sides. “You could have spared us both a lot of trouble if you’d just come out with it,” he grumbles. “You didn’t need to play this game and pretend to be some helpless animal.”
Liu Qingge tilts his head. “Perhaps,” he acknowledges, “but I don’t regret it. I learned more about you this way than I would have if I had approached you as a man with a request. I saw how you treated me when you didn’t know I could speak or ask for anything in return.”
Jiang Cheng doesn’t know whether to feel flattered or insulted—if Liu Qingge’s actions are an affront to his pride or a strange, backhanded compliment. “Well,” he finally says, his tone gruff, “you’ve made your judgment. What now?”