Snow Flower, Fire Storm

XII

1997 YEARS AGO, HAOLING

"Hey, Xun Yuan, are you with me?" Xie Xiao was watching Xun Yuan closely, a little worried about the silent anguish that seemed to be lining his face, his eyes hollow and full of shadows.

Ever since they arrived in the town Xun Yuan had turned into a mute listener while Xie Xiao rambled on and on about their plans for the mission. Xie Xiao hadn't minded at first; Xun Yuan rarely ever contributed to any kind of conversations, and it didn't even matter if he listened to the finer details of their strategy—he always knew what to do. Previous partnerships with Xun Yuan had proven to Xie Xiao that he could turn around any kind of situations, no matter how hopeless or dire they got. Xun Yuan could get out of any kind of trouble. Always. He didn't need anyone to tell him what to do.

This was the reason why the other disciples vyed incessantly to be partnered with him on missions even though Xun Yuan had never been anything but a disagreeable person to be around. He even landed himself with a nice, mystical nickname that had nearly turned into his official title: the Snow Flower of the Whispering Hills.

Xie Xiao could think of a bunch of reasons for him to have acquired a name like that. One, he was always wearing white. Two, he was calm yet cold like snow. Three, girls were smitten by his pretty face and decided the name suited him and themselves.
He was mostly certain number Three was the right reason. Snow Flower was such a soft name. Now every time Xie Xiao heard the name he couldn't stop the image of Xun Yuan practicing his swords in a field of daisies from popping into his head.

His swords. Xie Xiao's eyes travelled over the two swords strapped against Xun Yuan's back, their scabbards white. They seemed to dissipate a stone cold aura, but Xie Xiao decided it was probably because he was intimidated by how expensive they looked. He could never afford swords like that. Those silver-hilted swords should be held by a king. And used for ceremony instead of bloodshed. Not for the first time Xie Xiao wondered how Xun Yuan got his hands on weapons like that. At least he'd agree that the swords gave more credibility to the title Snow Flower.

"Xun Yuan!" Xie Xiao called again.

"Huh?" said Xun Yuan, snapping out of his reverie, the suffering look in his eyes fading away in an instant. Instead they shifted to focus on Xun Yuan. "Did you say something?"

"What's with that face?"

Xun Yuan stepped over a swathe of hay. "What face?"

"The kind of face people wear at a funeral. Like someone close to you died."

Xun Yuan shrugged. Xie Xiao waited for him to say something, but nothing was forthcoming. He let it go. After all, it was easier to force words out of a turtle than a Xun Yuan who resolved not to talk. The Snow Flower could have a bright and illustrious future as a spy for the country. He wouldn't be spilling any secrets to the enemy even if he were tortured day and night.

"I was saying, what are we going to do if the smugglers take the fighting to a civilian area. The buildings here are inflammable," he pointed out. "My fire wouldn't be of much help."

Thunder cracked overhead. The sky was darkening with rainclouds. Not an ideal situation for him at all; if it started raining then he could forget about inflammable houses and civilian area, he wouldn't be able to use fire anywhere.

Xun Yuan's face was calm and unruffled when he spoke. "We'll figure out something when that happens."

And that was that.

Xun Yuan's unshakable confidence was something Xie Xiao had never managed to wrap his head around. Everything about Xun Yuan screamed: invictus, unstoppable, force of nature. He walked into trouble as though he believed he could return unscathed, he fought like he could never die. How could there be someone like him? How could someone be so truly fearless?