They didn't let go for a long time.
The wind whipped around them, cold and sharp, but neither Lin Xiyan nor Shen Liufeng moved. Arms wrapped around each other, foreheads resting together, the silence between them louder than a thousand words.
At last, Shen murmured, "Come with me. We'll find shelter."
They found an abandoned hunter's lodge deeper into the forest—walls worn, but intact. Shen kindled a fire while Lin set down their packs. The light flickered across their faces, soft and golden.
For a moment, they simply sat, knees touching, hands never parting.
"I thought I lost you," Lin whispered, voice raw.
Shen leaned in, eyes dark. "You never did. Even when we were apart, you were with me—in every step, every sword stroke, every breath."
Lin shuddered slightly, gaze dropping to Shen's mouth. "Then show me. Let me feel it."
The fire crackled.
And then—Shen kissed him.
It wasn't tentative this time. It was deep, hungry, unguarded. Lin responded with equal fire, tugging Shen closer until their cloaks tangled and bodies pressed flush.
Their breath hitched as fingers worked quickly—pulling at ties, shedding layers.
Lin gasped when Shen's hand slid beneath his robe, calloused palm moving with familiarity and reverence. He arched into the touch, lips parted as he moaned against Shen's mouth.
The floor was hard, but neither cared. Their bodies found each other in the dark, not out of desperation—but out of years of aching, waiting, longing. Skin met skin, heat against heat, and all the barriers between them crumbled.
They moved as one, breathless and wild, chasing that breaking point where pain turned to pleasure, and loneliness finally gave way to belonging.
When it was over, they lay tangled together, sweat cooling on bare skin, the fire low.
Shen pressed a kiss to Lin's temple. "We won't let him come between us again."
Lin nodded. "Or anyone else. We either fight together—or not at all."
They fell asleep like that, under the same fur cloak, bodies wrapped close, breath steady.
—————-
By morning, the snow had stopped.
The sky stretched pale blue above them as they stepped out of the lodge, cloaks back on, swords at their hips. The world felt changed—not because of the wind or the cold, but because they had finally chosen to believe in one another again.
They followed the map Yu Meiqing had given them, leading toward the forgotten mountain of Yuchuan, where the Lotus Sect's founding scrolls were said to be hidden. The records that might expose their true crimes.
But halfway through the mountain pass, they were stopped by a sound—faint, rhythmic, like metal scraping stone.
Shen drew his sword instantly. "Someone's here."
They found a young man, barely breathing, slumped against the rock wall. His robes were torn, bearing the mark of the Lotus Sect—but slashed through. A traitor? A messenger? A victim?
Before he passed out, he croaked one name:
"…Jin Yao… betrayed us all…"
Then silence.
Shen and Lin exchanged a glance.
"Looks like the storm's only just begun," Lin said grimly.