The night was no longer young by the time we finally went to sleep. Moonlight was replaced by the milky white of the early dawn sky, and the first chorus of birds had started to sound in the distant woods.

But it was all worth it. I would trade every minute of sleep for more time awake with him.

The same thought was still in my head when I woke up to a brush of lips over my lashes after a couple of hours of dozing.

“I would’ve let you sleep in a bit more,” Bai Ye said softly, “but today is the day when equipment for the tournament is distributed. You’ll have to pay an early visit to the main peak.”

I opened my eyes. To be greeted with his beautiful smile at first sight in the morning felt heavenly. “Will you come with me?” I asked without thinking, then realized how dumb the question was. To involve masters in everyday matters like this would probably scare off the disciples running the errand.

“Sorry … I’m not quite awake,” I added.

He planted another kiss on my forehead. “I can’t go with you, but I can help you get ready.”

He gestured at the end table beside the bed. I squinted against the light shining from the window behind it, but my eyes widened when I saw what he was pointing to. My most frequently worn robes were piled up neatly on the table, ordered by color, with an assortment of hair ribbons and accessories lying on their side.

“I hope you’ll forgive me for gathering your items without your permission,” he said somewhat hesitantly. “I wanted to save you some time for sleep.”

I hadn’t noticed until then that he was already dressed in a casual underrobe. How did he manage to sneak away without waking me up?

“No … I mean, thank you. I’m glad you did,” I stammered a bit for the right words, touched by his thoughtfulness. I certainly wouldn’t want to walk all the way across the hall back to my room in daylight dressed in a nightrobe.

I sat up and fetched the first garment on top. Beauty was not one of my endowments, so I never gave too much thought to grooming my appearance. Whichever outfit would do. He watched quietly, only stopping me when I reached for the comb.

“May I do the honor?”

I looked at him, astounded. He plucked the comb from my hand and gathered my hair behind my shoulders, running the wooden teeth through slowly and carefully, smoothing over the tangled spots with such caution that I couldn’t feel the slightest pull. With a practiced swirl and turn, he arranged the brushed hair into a braid on the top of my head and secured it with a jade pin.

“How do you know how to do this?” I asked. I had always found it too much trouble to wear my hair up, so I would tie it with a plain ribbon behind my neck just about every day. But he made everything seem so easy.

“It suits you,” he said simply and nudged me towards the mirror. “Take a look.”

I padded over and looked. I almost didn’t recognize myself. The braid wasn’t complicated in any way, but it was delicate and elegant, framing my small face perfectly. The person in the mirror didn’t look gaunt at all, only neat and dainty.

“I forgot to mention,” he added, “the herbal bath had an additional benefit. It cleanses your skin and will help make it more radiant.”

Now that he had pointed it out, I noticed that my skin did seem to glow a healthy tone in the morning sunlight. I looked so different—although still plain like I always was, the pale haggardness was almost completely gone.

“How do you like it?” he asked.

“It’s amazing,” I smiled, delighted at the change. Suddenly I wondered: had Bai Ye always wished that I could look more beautiful for him? And if I did … if I could better my appearance, would he show me more of his love and … his passion?

~ ~

That thought distracted me all morning, and I was grateful for it when I stood in the long line for equipment distribution. At least I had something to occupy my mind with.

I couldn’t blame the slowness on the disciple in charge of the task though. He handled it with impressive efficiency, noting down everyone’s information and handing out the matching gear with such speed that I suspected he had been doing this for years. He beckoned me forward with a quick wave of the hand when it was finally my turn.

“Name, style, experience?” he asked concisely.

“Yun Qing-er, twin swords, fifth-year.” I glanced at the pile of equipment to his left. The tournament was strict on the usage of talismans and amulets—only one type of assigned artifact was allowed for each weapon style, and only the officially distributed items could be used. While waiting, I had already figured out which pile was supposed to be assigned to twin swords.

The disciple recorded my name. “You will receive three defensive talismans. Do not waste them before the tournament—no substitutes or replacements,” he said and reached beneath the table, producing three sheets of talismans, and handed them to me.

But that was not the same location where he fetched those talismans for the other disciples. “This is for fifth-year twin swords, right?” I tried reminding him. “One of the girls in line before me had the same qualifications, and I think she got hers from a different pile.”

“They are all the same,” the disciple scowled. “Now please make way, you are blocking the line.”

I glanced at the regular pile again. From a distance, those talismans looked no different from the ones he gave me, bearing the same drawings and text. I must be overthinking it—what benefit could a disciple who didn’t even know me get out of giving me fake supplies?

I nodded my thanks and walked away.