Chapter 13: Frostbitten Etiquette

The Heavenly Palace was always alive.

Even in the stillness of dawn, the halls breathed with movement — the shuffling of silk robes against polished stone, the clink of trays as attendants carried breakfast through the corridors, the muted conversations drifting from one garden to another.

But today… the sound that followed Zixuan was different.

Low. Contained.

The kind of sound people made when they thought you couldn’t hear them.

A snicker.

Then another.

She didn’t slow her stride until she caught the faintest whisper right behind her.

“—look at her neck—”

She stopped. Just enough to turn her head.

Two attendants were lingering near one of the side pillars, each pretending to adjust the sleeves of their robes. They weren’t looking at her face.

They were looking lower.

Her gaze followed theirs, and—oh.

Right.

That.

The faint purplish imprint against her skin was still visible, very visible.

Her hand twitched up instinctively to cover it, but one of the attendants beat her to the next move — cupping their hand around their mouth and whispering to the other.

“Frostbite? Or… frost bite?”

The way the second one bit back a laugh was proof enough they weren’t talking about medical conditions.

Zixuan blinked at them, her voice flat. “…Wow. Just… wow.”

The first one’s lips curled into something dangerously close to a grin. “Guess the stories about the Northern Lord’s… passion aren’t exaggerated.”

Heat rushed up her neck — which was infuriating, because that only made the bruise stand out more.

“You two are disgusting,” she said, stepping forward just enough to make them straighten in surprise.

Then she brushed past, muttering under her breath,

“Heavenly beings. My foot. Bunch of dirty little immortals.”

---

The moment she slid open the door to her own residence, the sharp tang of formality hit her.

Shou was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a scroll open before him. Beside him sat Elder Mo, Elder Ling and Elder Shu, all wearing the exact same face — a mix of irritation and the long-suffering patience of people who had absolutely had it.

Elder Mo spotted her first.

“Zixuan.”

Her smile was instant and overly bright. “Elder Mo! What a surprise. I was just—”

“Sit.”

She froze halfway to the hallway. “…I’d rather not?”

Elder Ling’s tone was clipped enough to cut air. “You will sit.”

She sighed, shuffled over, and dropped herself onto the marble bench ike it had personally offended her.

“What did you do?” Elder Mo asked, folding his hands over his lap.

She glanced at Shou. He had his head in his hands already, as if bracing for impact.

“Sometimes,” she began carefully, “I think before I act.”

“And this time?” Elder Ling pressed.

She gave them a hopeful smile. "No. Not recently.”

---

The scolding wasn’t short. It was never short.

It went from “You need to learn restraint” to “Do you understand the consequences of meddling with divine artefacts?” to “What were you thinking?”

By the time they finished, her ears were ringing, and she was staring at the steam rising from the tea on the table, wondering if drowning herself in it was a viable option.

“So we’re done here?” she asked sweetly.

Elder Shu blinked. “Yes, but—”

“Great. Shou, come with me.”

She grabbed his wrist before they could start round two, yanking him toward the courtyard.

---

Once they were alone, she told him everything.

The artefact. The choking. The frost.

By the end, Shou was rubbing his temples like she’d recited the entire saga in a single breath.

“You… really… have a talent.”

She beamed. “Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

She tilted her head. “Still sounds like one.”

---

Three days passed.

No summons. No guards pounding at the door. No celestial decree calling for her punishment.

She thought maybe she’d been forgotten.

Then the shadows began to shift.

At first, it was only in the corners of her vision — a tall silhouette half-hidden by the pillars, a flicker of movement at the far end of the courtyard.

But then came the dreams.

Always the same.

His cold hands closing around her throat.

The bite of frost in her lungs.

Her own voice caught somewhere between a gasp and a scream.

Every time she woke, her heart would be pounding, her neck aching like his grip had followed her back into the waking world.

---

On the fourth morning, she slammed her chopsticks onto the table.

Shou startled, nearly spilling his tea.

“What now?”

“Where does Aoshen live?” she demanded.

The room went still.

Elder Mo's head jerked toward her. “What business could you possibly have with the Lord of the Northern Heavens?”

“Unfinished business,” she said flatly.

Elder Ling stared. “…You’ve gone insane.”

“Oh, I’ve been insane. This is different.”

Shou looked at her for a long moment, then exhaled like it physically hurt him. “Fine.”

Closing his eyes, he extended his spiritual sense. The thread of biting frost he found was sharp enough to sting even at a distance.

“Northern Heavens. Freezing enough to stop your heart.”

“Perfect.”

Before she could take a step, Ling appeared, tossing her a small silver ring.

“For portal travel. In case he tries to kill you.”

She grinned. “Noted.”

---

The instant she stepped into the Northern Heavens, the cold hit her like a wall.

Not just skin-deep — it sank into her bones, settled in her lungs, made her breath come out in pale, trembling clouds.

The trees were ghostly things, their branches bent under thick layers of ice. The air didn’t move. There was no sound but the faint creak of ice shifting under its own weight.

Every step crunched against the frost-covered ground, and she told herself she should probably turn back.

Her anger kept her moving.

---

The floating palace rose ahead, spires gleaming like they’d been carved from frozen starlight.

A guard stepped forward, sword raised.

“Halt.”

She lifted her hands, smiling disarmingly. “Whoa, da-ge. I just want to see Aoshen.”

The guard’s eyes narrowed. “For what purpose do you seek the Lord of Frost and Shadow?”

Her brows furrowed. “The Lord of Frost and Shadow? Really? Do you guys rehearse these titles or what?”

Another voice cut in from the side.

“You.”

She turned to see Ziyu stepping out from a side hall.

They locked eyes.

He turned on his heel.

“HEY!” she called, jogging after him. “Don’t just walk away!”

He stopped reluctantly, his voice flat. “What are you doing here?”

“Why are you so cold?” she shot back without thinking.

He stared. “…Are we close enough for me to be warm?”

“Guess not. So. Where’s Aoshen?”

Ziyu’s brows drew together in disbelief. “You dare—”

The air above her head shimmered, and a tiny flame flared into existence.

Both he and the guard instinctively took a step back.

She strode past without waiting for an answer.

“Second hall on the left!” Ziyu called after her, irritation sharp in his voice.

She lifted a hand in acknowledgment but didn’t look back.

---

The doors to his chamber loomed ahead, heavy and silent.

She kicked them open.

“AOSHEN!”

----

Aoshen didn’t move when she barged in.

He simply leaned back into his chair — if “chair” was the right word for the frost-sculpted monstrosity beneath him — and rested his chin on one hand, regarding her like she’d tracked snow into his palace.

“Sit,” he said.

It wasn’t an offer.

Zixuan glared, but she walked over and sank into the icy seat opposite him. The cold bit through the silk at once, making her sit up straighter.

For a heartbeat, neither spoke.

He broke the silence first.

“I assume you’re here to whine.”

Her lips tightened. “I’m here to fix what I broke.”

Aoshen’s brow arched, like the idea amused him. “You? Fix it?”

She kept her voice steady. “You’ll give me the artefacts. I’ll get them repaired. Then I’ll return them to you.”

The faintest curl of a smirk touched his mouth. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

For a man who’d choked her like he was trying to claim her windpipe as a personal trophy, his next words were suspiciously agreeable.

“Fine.”

She blinked. “…Fine?”

“Yes.”

No hesitation. No barbed terms. Just that one word.

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re agreeing to this far too quickly.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” she asked, leaning forward slightly. “Because for someone who enjoys grabbing people by the throat, you’re acting suspiciously cooperative.”

His smirk deepened. “Perhaps I simply enjoy watching you struggle.”

She blew out a slow breath. “…Do you know I’ve had immortals teasing me for days about that little bruise you left?”

“Is that supposed to hurt my feelings?”

“It’s supposed to praise you,” she said, her tone all sharp sweetness. “Congratulations. Your neck-gripping skills are apparently legendary now.”

If her words were meant to embarrass him, they failed.

He just looked at her like she was a very small, very foolish animal.

She stood, gathering the artefacts from the table. “I’ll be back soon to return these.”

He didn’t bother to rise.

He only watched her turn on her heel, the corners of his mouth curling upward into something dark and private.

As if he'd ever let that happen.

---

When she returned to her residence, the air inside was warm enough to sting her frozen skin.

Shou looked up from where he was reading and frowned at the bundle in her arms. “What’s that?”

She dropped the artefacts onto the table. “Broken, divine, extremely annoying. Help me fix them.”

The second his eyes landed on the objects, a sound escaped him — not a chuckle, but a full, body-shaking laugh.

He laughed so hard the teacup rattled in its saucer, and the spiritual wards on the ceiling flickered faintly, as if the realm itself was judging him.

“What is so funny?” she demanded.

“You—” He doubled over again, clutching his stomach. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

She folded her arms. “Enlighten me.”

“You can’t just… fix these,” he said, wheezing between laughs. “They’d need at least fifty years of cultivation to restore.”

Her eyes went wide. “Fifty—?”

“And,” he added casually, “if you’re a hundred years old and you use half your life to repair them, would you even survive?”

Her jaw dropped. “You couldn’t have led with that?!”

“I was enjoying the moment,” he said smugly.

Her fury was instant and hot — though not hot enough to make her march back to Aoshen’s frozen palace. She still remembered the way her organs had nearly turned into ice sculptures.

---

Two days later, a notice spread across the realm:

A sudden examination for all fairies and celestial beings.

Shou immediately declared it a waste of time.

Zixuan immediately decided she was going — not to write the exam, but to bring back enough gossip to last the month.

She strolled into the grand examination hall, pretending to study the elaborate silk banners while her ears stayed tuned to every whisper.

Then her eyes drifted toward the golden announcement tablet at the front.

Her steps slowed.

And there it was.

Her name.

Written in gleaming, unmistakable script.

The hall went silent as others noticed too.

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

“She’s… taking the exam?”

“Impossible.”

“She’ll fail in the first round—”

Zixuan just stood there, staring.

Her voice was barely a whisper.

“…What the hell.”

The examination hall was blindingly bright, all polished jade floors and golden pillars that reached so high, you’d think the heavens themselves were taking notes.

Fairies in pristine robes shuffled in, carrying brushes, inkstones, and enough nervous energy to power an entire sect.

Zixuan, however, strolled in like she was here for free tea.

She plopped herself down at a desk in the far corner, not bothering to open the crisp booklet that an attendant placed before her.

Instead, she propped her chin in her palm, idly watching the others set up their brushes as if preparing for a battle.

“Begin,” the examiner announced.

A hundred brushes dipped into ink at once, the room filling with the soft scratch of calligraphy.

Zixuan sighed.

She leaned back so far in her seat that the back legs of the chair wobbled.

From her sleeve, she produced a small bag of candied lotus seeds, popping one into her mouth with a satisfying crunch.

She watched a fairy two rows ahead frown deeply, brush trembling in his grip.

Another girl beside him was already sweating, strands of hair sticking to her forehead.

“This is going to be a long morning,” Zixuan muttered to herself.

So she tore off a tiny scrap from the back of the exam booklet and began doodling a caricature of Shou — overly dramatic hair, eyes that looked permanently judgmental. She smirked at her own work.

Every so often, an examiner passed by, peering down at her desk.

Zixuan would immediately lean forward and pretend to be thinking deeply, nibbling on the brush tip for effect.

The moment they moved on, she went back to staring at the ceiling beams, counting how many phoenix carvings there were.

(She lost count at fifteen and decided it didn’t matter.)

Halfway through the test, she stretched her arms, yawned so widely her jaw popped, and used her inkstone as a makeshift mirror to check if she had crumbs on her lips.

A fairy across the aisle glared at her in disbelief, whispering to his neighbor,

“She’s not even trying.”

The neighbor shook his head. “Bold of you to assume she ever does.”

---

Hours later, the hall doors finally opened and the examinees began filing out, looking like they’d been in a spiritual war. Some clutched their scrolls like lifelines; others muttered to themselves, replaying answers.

Zixuan?

She strolled out last, twirling her unused brush between her fingers.

In the courtyard, an attendant stepped forward with a long scroll. His voice carried over the crowd.

“We will now announce the appointments. When your name is called, you will step forward to receive your assignment.”

The fairies perked up, smoothing their robes and whispering excitedly.

“I hope I’m assigned to the new Sovereign King,” one breathed. “They say he’s the most ethereal being in all the realms.”

“More ethereal than the Moon Lord?”

“Twice as much. And handsomer.”

The first name rang out:

“Lin Feiyan — Palace of Spring Waters.”

A delicate girl stepped forward, smiling in relief.

The next name:

“Mo Lian — Pavilion of Eternal Blossoms.”

One by one, they were sent to peaceful, scenic assignments — gardens, libraries, archives. Each fairy who received theirs sighed happily and drifted to the side to wait.

Zixuan, meanwhile, was only half-listening, more interested in watching a butterfly hover lazily above a lotus pond.

Then—

“Zhou Zixuan.”

She looked up lazily. “Mm?”

The attendant continued without pause,

“—Northern Heavens Court, under the command of its ruler, His Majesty, the Frost King Aoshen.”

The butterfly over the pond suddenly seemed a lot less interesting.

She froze, mouth parting slightly.

Around her, whispers exploded instantly.

“The Frost King?!”

“She’s going to serve Aoshen?”

“That’s… unlucky.”

“Do you know how many attendants he’s gone through? Half of them ‘mysteriously vanished.’”

“Or froze solid.”

Someone in the back snorted. “Maybe it’ll be easier for him this time. Didn’t he choke her before? Saves him the trouble of introductions.”

A ripple of muffled laughter followed.

Zixuan’s face remained composed, but her fingers curled slowly into fists at her sides.

Of course, she wasn’t the only one assigned there — two other names were called, both belonging to fairies who instantly lost all color in their faces — but the eyes of the crowd stayed fixed on her.

She knew exactly why.

And she knew Aoshen would never, ever let her life be peaceful again.

The attendant glanced up from the scroll. “Step forward.”

Zixuan didn’t move at first, just stood there staring at the man like the list itself had personally wronged her.

Finally, she took a slow step forward, the words forming under her breath like venom:

“…I’m going to kill him.”