Chapter 14: CREEPING ICE

By the time Zixuan crossed back into the Protectors’ grounds, she could already feel it.

The stares.

The pitying glances.

The whispers.

It was as if the walls themselves had been gossiping before she even stepped foot inside.

She stopped halfway down the main walkway and folded her arms. “Alright, who blabbed?!”

Nobody answered, but a few trainees hurriedly scurried off, pretending to be deeply interested in sweeping nonexistent leaves.

A heavy sigh came from ahead. Elder Shu appeared, hands tucked into her sleeves, her expression caught somewhere between resignation and mild exasperation. Elder Ling followed closely behind, holding a long silk-wrapped package.

“Zhou Zixuan…” Shu said in a slow, tired tone. “It’s always you.”

Ling stepped forward and held the bundle out. “Your clothes. Your favorite accessories. And—” she glanced at Shu.

“All the rubbish,” Shu finished bluntly, “that you insist on keeping in your room.”

Zixuan took the package with a gasp. “Rubbish?! These are my treasures! Do you know how long I’ve collected these?”

“Yes. Unfortunately,” Shu muttered.

Ling’s gaze softened, but her voice turned grave. “Be smart. Be wise. Or else—”

“I’ll be dead, I know, you’ve said it before—”

“Or worse,” Shu interrupted. “Frozen.”

Zixuan rolled her eyes dramatically. “Stop acting like I’m already gone—”

“That’s because you are,” Shou’s voice came lazily from behind the courtyard gate. He leaned there like he had been waiting hours just to drop that line, chewing idly on a stalk of grass.

“Oh, thank you for your optimism,” she said flatly.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, not moving.

Zixuan threw her arms up. “You people don’t even understand! That place—” she jabbed a finger toward the north “—is a frozen hell! I nearly lost my toes last time!”

Nobody moved. Nobody even blinked.

Ling stepped closer and smiled softly. “Always come visit, Zixuan.”

“Please,” Zixuan scoffed, “I was going to even if you didn’t ask.”

The reality of it settled in like frost creeping over glass. She wasn’t a Protector anymore. She was… an attendant. Aoshen’s attendant.

Her nose wrinkled at the thought.

Still, she stepped forward and hugged Shou with exaggerated wailing. “Don’t forget me when I’m just an icicle stuck to his window!”

Shu and Ling stood back, their faces unreadable. The child who had once fallen from the great Protector tree as a cocoon was now leaving. Like mother, like daughter.

Maybe this was simply what her fate demanded.

“Wait,” Shu called suddenly.

Zixuan turned just as Shu approached. Without a word, the elder wrapped her in a hug — not the stiff kind, but warm and real. It told Zixuan more than words could: Shu had never hated her. She’d only wanted her to survive.

“Never take off your hairband unless it’s necessary,” Shu murmured.

Zixuan smiled and nodded… knowing full well she would one day ignore that warning.

---

The Road North

The journey was every bit as miserable as she remembered. Cold wind stung her cheeks, the snow crunched unpleasantly under her boots, and every time she thought she was nearly there, another stretch of endless white revealed itself.

She grumbled.

She complained.

She cursed him out under her breath — and sometimes not under her breath.

“If he thinks I’m bringing him tea or polishing his icy floors, he’s insane—!”

Halfway through a particularly long rant about how she would “accidentally” set fire to his drapes, she heard something squelch.

She froze.

“…That better have been my boot.”

It wasn’t.

From the snowdrift ahead, a small, squat creature with a round head and ridiculously stubby legs waddled into view. Its fur was pure white, except for the bright red berry dangling from a stalk atop its head.

It blinked at her.

She blinked back.

Then it grinned.

The grin had too many teeth.

She screamed like a banshee.

The creature screamed back.

Zixuan whipped her package of clothes around like a weapon. “Stay back! I’ll—I’ll—throw expensive accessories at you!”

The thing bolted back into the snow, leaving only the bobbing red berry visible before even that vanished.

Her heart was pounding as she straightened her robes. “…Right. That didn’t happen. Nobody will ever hear about this.”

---

At the Northern Gates

When she finally reached the towering gates of the Northern Heavens, the guard looked up, eyebrows raised.

“You again? Frequenting this place, are we?”

“Ha-ha,” Zixuan deadpanned, brushing past him.

From deeper within the courtyard, Ziyu appeared, immaculate as always. “This way.”

She followed, shivering and unusually quiet.

“You’re quiet,” Ziyu said after a moment, glancing over his shoulder.

“I am not quiet—” she began, and then launched into a rant. She told him about the exam she never took, how she still ended up working for Aoshen, how the Frost King was a fraud who probably forged the results just to torment her.

Ziyu only nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. Loud and bubbly… they’d never had anyone like her here.

Then Aoshen’s voice slid like ice into his mind. Stop having stupid thoughts.

The smile vanished instantly.

---

The Frost King’s Hall

Zixuan strode in without waiting to be announced. “You know, you’re really petty.”

Aoshen didn’t answer.

“You couldn’t just let me walk away, could you? Nooo. You had to drag me back here.”

Something in her tone must have hit the wrong nerve, because his hand was suddenly around her neck.

She choked, hands flying up.

“See?” she croaked. “You really do love my neck.”

With a flick, he released her — sending her stumbling a few steps, just far enough to make her glare daggers at him.

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“Ziyu,” he ordered, voice sharp, “get her out of my sight.”

“Please tell me you’re not throwing me in a dungeon,” she rasped, rubbing her sore throat.

“He wouldn’t be that cruel,” Ziyu said.

“Yes, he would.”

“Yes, I would. Without hesitation.”

They spoke in unison, and Zixuan shot him a venomous glare as Ziyu dragged her away.

◇◇◇

Ziyu stopped in front of a tall, carved door and slid it open. “Your chambers,” he said simply, stepping aside so she could enter.

Zixuan leaned around him to peek inside, and for once, she had no complaints.

The room was warm — actually warm — with a soft golden glow from the lamps along the walls. A thick rug, deep blue with silver threads, stretched across the floor, so plush her boots sank slightly into it when she stepped inside. The bed was enormous, tucked under a carved wooden canopy, piled high with blankets so fluffy she half-expected them to swallow her whole. A low table sat by the wide window, already set with a tea tray and two small cups.

Her eyes roamed over the shelves lining the far wall. Some were filled neatly with books; the rest were empty, clearly waiting for her to fill them with all the “rubbish” Elder Shu always complained about. A wardrobe stood in the corner, its doors slightly open to reveal neatly folded robes in pale blues and silvers.

“This…” she said slowly, stepping further in and dragging her fingers along the bed “This is actually nice. I was expecting, you know… a pile of snow in the corner and maybe a block of ice for a pillow.”

Ziyu’s expression didn’t change. “Work starts tomorrow. And don’t wake up late — you’re His Majesty’s attendant now. Attendants wake up before their masters, not after.”

She groaned and collapsed dramatically onto the bed. “You sound just like Elder Shu.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Elder Shu?”

“Mother figure. Or… something like that. The nagging type. You’d get along with her. You could hold a lecture competition.”

Ziyu ignored her tone, stepping just inside the doorway. “Then follow her advice. Do your work without trouble, and maybe His Majesty won’t have to wipe you out of existence.”

Zixuan froze mid–blanket fluff. “…He can actually do that?”

The corner of Ziyu’s mouth tugged upward, but it wasn’t a kind smile. “His Majesty can do worse.”

She blinked at him, still holding the blanket. “…Comforting. Really. Thanks for that.”

---

When he left, she stayed sitting on the bed for a moment, letting the silence settle. Then, unable to resist, she slid off and began snooping around. She opened the wardrobe fully and gasped at the smooth silk robes, running her hand over them like she was inspecting treasure.

“Well, well, Aoshen… maybe you do have taste,” she muttered, then immediately added, “Not that I’m giving you credit for this. Probably Ziyu’s doing.”

She checked the drawers under the bed, finding nothing but extra blankets folded neatly. “Good. At least there aren’t any frozen snakes hiding in here.”

At the tea table, she picked up the delicate porcelain cup, squinted at it like she was a critic, and set it down again with a satisfied hum. Then she looked at the empty shelves and grinned. “Oh, these are getting filled. Elder Shu’s gonna lose it when she sees I brought every ‘useless trinket’ with me.”

Finally, she flopped back onto the bed, stretching her arms over her head. “Luxury,” she sighed dramatically. “If he thinks this is going to make me like him, he’s dead wrong.”

But her eyes drifted shut anyway, because the blankets were warm, the air didn’t bite at her skin, and for the first time since arriving in the Northern Heavens… she wasn’t freezing.

☆☆☆☆

The Northern Heavens woke early.

Zixuan… did not.

---

A Late Start

When she finally cracked open an eye, pale light was spilling in through the frosted windows. The cold air stung her nose, but she stayed buried under her fortress of blankets like a squirrel in winter.

She rolled over, smacking her lips. “Mm… work can wait.”

Somewhere far away, boots clinked against ice floors. Servants whispered as they passed in the corridors. The sound of a gong echoed faintly.

Zixuan ignored all of it. She reached under her pillow, pulled out a paper packet, and popped a candied chestnut into her mouth. She chewed slowly, as if savoring the taste would somehow stretch time.

“He’s not really going to be mad,” she mumbled to herself. “What’s he gonna do, glare at me? Please.”

---

The Hall of Cold Judgment

It was nearly midday when she shuffled into the main hall, wrapped in a thick fur-lined shawl over layered robes of muted silk, hems uneven from hurried dressing, hair loosely pinned yet still carrying that smug air.

The moment she stepped in, the air tightened. Servants froze in place, eyes darting between her and the throne. Someone dropped a tray, the teapot shattering against the ice with a sharp crack.

Ziyu appeared from the side like a shadow. “You’re late.”

She scoffed. “You people really don’t understand the meaning of beauty sleep.”

He sighed through his nose. “He’s been waiting.”

She grinned. “Oh, he can wait a little longer. Builds anticipation.”

The look Ziyu gave her could have been translated as: I am not responsible for what happens next.

---

Aoshen sat on his throne, elbow resting on one armrest, fingers curled slightly as though he could summon an ice storm with the smallest twitch.

When he looked at her, it was slow… deliberate… and colder than the walls around them.

“You are late,” he said.

Zixuan tipped her head. “Good day to you too.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “Do you recall your duties?”

“Vaguely,” she said with a shrug. “But I’m more of an… freelance type, you know? Flexible schedule, creative freedom—”

The temperature dropped so suddenly she felt it in her teeth. Before she could blink, frost shot across the floor toward her, curling around her boots.

She looked down, frowning. “Hey—what—”

The ice snapped shut around her ankles. She wobbled, trying to shake it off, but it only crept higher, wrapping her calves like frozen chains.

“Aoshen—” she started.

“You think my orders are optional.”

“It’s not that serious!” she protested, tugging at her legs.

The ice reached her knees.

“Okay, okay, message received—”

“Do you believe,” he said, voice dipping lower, “you can treat my palace like a tea house?”

The ice surged to her thighs in an instant, locking her in place. She gasped at the biting cold, her breath fogging in front of her.

---

“You have a choice,” Aoshen continued, stepping down from the throne. Each step echoed sharply in the hall. “Serve me… or learn what it feels like to be part of my collection.”

“What does that even—”

The ice shot up to her waist, stealing her words. She winced, teeth chattering now, but his eyes stayed fixed on her face, waiting for the moment the bravado cracked.

She forced a shaky laugh. “You really love being dramatic—”

With a flick of his wrist, thin, sharp ribbons of frost coiled up her arms. The cold wasn’t just outside anymore; it was sinking in, numbing her muscles until she couldn’t even move her fingers.

Her smirk faltered. “Aoshen—stop—”

“You will remember this,” he said simply.

---

The ribbons tightened. They weren’t cutting her, but they were so cold it felt like her bones might splinter. Her breath hitched involuntarily.

Somewhere to the side, a servant whispered, “That’s too much—” and was immediately silenced by a glare from Ziyu.

Zixuan clenched her jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing her beg. “Y-You’re really… petty…” she managed through chattering teeth.

His gaze swept over her as if she were a puzzle he was taking apart. “Petty?”

“Y-Yeah,” she croaked. “You—mmph—you really like my neck, don’t you?”

For the first time, his lips curved. Not kindly.

The frost surged up, wrapping around her throat in a delicate ring — not choking her, but just tight enough to make her feel the threat.

---

Then, as suddenly as it started, it was gone. The ice shattered into mist and drifted away, leaving her shaking and breathless. Her knees buckled, and she caught herself with both hands on the frozen floor.

She looked up at him, eyes flashing. “You’re insane.”

“I am the Frost King,” he said calmly, turning back to his throne. “Tea. Now.”

She glared at his back. “I’m putting too much honey in it.”

Without even turning around, he replied, “Do it, and I’ll freeze the honey with you in it.”

Her jaw dropped.

Ziyu, walking past, muttered, “Told you so.”

It was official.

The man wasn’t just a red flag.

He was an entire frostbitten warning sign.

♧◇♧◇♧◇♧

By the next morning, Zixuan felt like she had been trampled by a herd of celestial oxen.

Her limbs ached, her throat was raw, and every time she moved, her arm throbbed from yesterday’s “lesson.”

She groaned, rolling over in bed and pulling the covers tighter around herself. Not that it helped — the Northern Heavens’ cold seeped into everything.

Her room wasn't cold anymore. Aoshen must have done this.

That monster.

Even her dreams were frosted over.

---

Outside her quarters, Ziyu was pacing.

He wasn’t the type to meddle, but he’d seen her staggering around after Aoshen’s punishment yesterday, and the stubborn set of her jaw had told him she wouldn’t dare admit she was hurting.

Eventually, he went to the Frost King’s study.

“She’s sick,” Ziyu said bluntly. “Do you want me to check on her?”

Aoshen didn’t look up from the scroll he was reading.

“She’s weaker than anything I’ve ever sensed,” he said flatly. “If she dies from a little frost, that’s her problem. Go if you want.”

That was as close to permission as Ziyu was going to get.

He took it.

---

The door to Zixuan’s room creaked open, letting in a rush of cold air that made her groan dramatically.

“Oh, great,” she rasped without opening her eyes. “Another icicle come to torment me.”

Ziyu stepped inside, ignoring the jab. “You look half-dead.”

“Thanks,” she croaked. “That’s exactly the compliment I needed.”

He knelt by her bed, fingers glowing faintly as he summoned a gentle, warming energy.

The moment his hand hovered over her arm, she shrieked.

“Don’t you dare heal me!” she snapped, yanking the blanket over herself like a shield.

He blinked. “…You’d rather stay sick?”

“Yes!” she declared, her voice hoarse but defiant. “Then Aoshen will feel guilty for—”

Ziyu’s lips twitched. “You think he’s going to feel guilty?”

She hesitated, then frowned. “…Well… maybe a little?”

“No,” he said plainly, almost pitying her. “He’s literally coldhearted. The only thing you’re achieving is making your own suffering worse. Let me heal you before your teeth start falling out.”

Her glare peeked out from the blanket. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am,” Ziyu said, pressing his palm lightly to her arm despite her protests.

Warmth began to seep into her, chasing away the ache in her bones.

She huffed. “Feels like betrayal.”

“Feels like I’m saving you from coughing yourself into an early reincarnation,” he replied.

~~~~~~

Ziyu had just finished coaxing the last of the healing energy into her when a voice, smooth and cold as a blade sliding from its sheath, cut through the room.

“Making me… feel guilty?”

The blanket nearly shot off the bed as Zixuan jolted upright.

Standing in the doorway, Aoshen leaned against the frame, his expression unreadable, eyes like frozen steel.

Ziyu stood quickly, bowing his head, though the corner of his mouth was twitching like he was trying not to smirk. “She—”

“I wasn’t—!” Zixuan blurted at the same time, her voice cracking.

Her throat still hurt from yesterday, and it only made her sound guiltier.

Aoshen’s gaze drifted from her flushed face to the faint warmth still lingering on her arm.

“Interesting tactic,” he murmured, stepping forward slowly, like a predator that knew its prey had nowhere to run.

Her stomach sank. “I-It’s not a tactic. I was just… taking a break from your—”

“My what?” he prompted softly.

She could almost hear the trap snapping shut.

“…Your overwhelming generosity?” she tried weakly.

His lips twitched—not in amusement, but in that quiet, dangerous way that told her the next few minutes were going to be terrible.

He moved past Ziyu, who wisely took two steps back, putting as much distance between himself and whatever was about to happen.

Aoshen stopped by her bedside.

“You wanted me to feel guilty.” His voice was low, silky, and very calm—too calm.

Her heartbeat picked up.

“And you thought being sick would accomplish this.”

“I—It was just—”

He reached out, resting his gloved fingers against her jaw. The touch was deceptively gentle.

For a fleeting moment, she thought maybe he was going to let it go.

Then the cold hit her.

It was sharper than yesterday’s—ice flooding under her skin, freezing her blood in place, locking her joints until she could barely breathe.

She tried to jerk away, but his grip tightened ever so slightly.

“A lesson,” he murmured, voice still maddeningly calm. “Do not play games you can’t win.”

Her teeth chattered as she tried to glare at him. “Y-You punish me too much—”

His head tilted faintly. “And yet you still test me.”

“You’re one to talk about proper behavior,” she snapped through the shivering, because she’d rather die than give him the satisfaction of silence.

A faint smirk ghosted across his lips, and that was somehow worse than if he’d been openly angry.

The cold intensified just enough to make her gasp sharply, then—just as suddenly—he let go.

The warmth of the room rushed back in, but she was left trembling, her breath shaky.

“Ziyu,” Aoshen said without looking back, “make sure she’s fit to work by tonight. I have no use for an attendant who thinks being bedridden is a strategy.”

And then he left, as if the whole thing had been no more significant to him than closing a book.

"I hate you!" she shouted at his regal back as he disappeared down the hallway.

♡♡♡

By the time the pale moonlight spilled over the Northern Heavens, Zixuan had wrapped herself in every blanket she could find, convinced she could fake her illness for at least two more days.

She had just gotten comfortable, eyes half-closed, when the door slid open without a knock.

Ziyu stepped in, his expression torn between apologetic and faintly amused. “He wants you in the main hall. Now.”

Zixuan groaned and buried her face into the pillow. “Tell him I’m dead.”

“I value my life, thank you,” Ziyu replied dryly, walking over and yanking the blanket from her grasp with one swift motion. “Up.”

She shot him a death glare. “Traitor.”

“I’m a messenger,” he said simply, but there was that faint twitch of his lips again.

Still muttering curses under her breath, she dragged herself to her feet, adjusting her hairband as if it could somehow protect her from whatever nonsense was about to happen.

---

The main hall was exactly what she hated about the Northern Heavens—cold marble floors, frost-laced walls, and that awful quiet that made every footstep sound like a crime.

Aoshen sat at the far end, not even looking at her as she approached. He was leaning over a scroll, the candlelight casting sharp shadows across his features.

“You’re late,” he said, voice like ice cracking.

“I was sick,” she said flatly.

He didn’t look up. “You were pretending to be sick.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s a matter of perspective.”

Finally, he lifted his gaze to her, one brow raising ever so slightly. “Do you think I share your perspective?”

“…No,” she admitted reluctantly.

“Good. Then you understand why you’re standing here.” He gestured to a low table beside him. On it lay a heavy set of frost-armored gauntlets, each piece shimmering with a thin layer of crystalline ice.

“You’ll polish these. Thoroughly.”

Her jaw dropped. “Do you see my hands? They’re still frozen from this morning! You’re insane!”

“Then wear gloves,” he said simply, already returning his attention to the scroll.

She stared at him, waiting for a flicker of humor or softness—something to indicate he was joking.

There was nothing.

“I’ll drop them,” she warned.

“You’ll pick them up,” he replied without missing a beat.

“I’ll scratch them on purpose,” she threatened.

His eyes lifted again, this time with that slow, cutting smirk that made her skin crawl. “Try.”

---

She yanked the polishing cloth from the table and sat down with the worst posture she could manage, making sure every movement looked as miserable as possible.

After a few minutes of silence, she muttered under her breath, “This is abuse.”

“It’s discipline,” Aoshen corrected, still reading.

“It’s petty.”

“It’s effective.”

She groaned loudly, leaning back. “You really enjoy making me suffer, don’t you?”

Without looking up, he answered smoothly, “I enjoy making people remember their place.”

Her temper flared. “You’re one to talk about proper behavior—”

The gauntlet in her hand slipped, clanging loudly against the table.

The sound echoed through the hall, and the air seemed to grow colder.

Slowly, Aoshen set his scroll aside and stood. He didn’t walk quickly—oh no, he took his time crossing the space between them, each step deliberate.

Zixuan swallowed hard. “It was an accident,” she said quickly.

“Accidents,” he murmured, coming to a stop before her, “have consequences.”

Before she could react, his fingers brushed her cheek—then the cold seeped in again, sharper than before, not just numbing but biting deep. Her breath hitched as frost began to bloom along her sleeve where his touch lingered.

“You will polish them all,” he said quietly, “and you will not drop another piece. If you do, we will… escalate.”

Her voice came out in a croak. “You’re a monster.”

“And yet,” he said, pulling back and watching her shiver, “you’re still here.”

---

By the time she finished, her fingers were so stiff she could barely move them, and Aoshen hadn’t looked up once except to give her the occasional you missed a spot remark that made her want to throw the gauntlet at his perfect, infuriating face.

When she finally stood, clutching the cloth like it might be used as a weapon, he glanced at her and said mildly,

“You may leave. Try not to catch another… perspective.”

She muttered a very rude word under her breath as she left, and she swore she saw Ziyu trying not to laugh from the shadows.