A City Swept by Wind and Snow GL - Chapter 1

◎I saw the fourth blade◎

One strike draws bl00d, two strikes leave flaws, three strikes mean death.

This person treats slaughter as art, but hasty, with no room for a fourth strike. Moreover, their name is unknown, face unrecorded; the Jianghu simply calls them “Three Blades.” Thus, the fourth strike became a legend—the Ghost Blade. No living person has ever seen it.

It is said that Three Blades recently arrived in the imperial capital, Xinjing, and took on a major contract. The target? None other than the powerful Lord Zhuang—He Qishu—second only to the emperor himself!

“Then, who exactly ‘said’ this?” asked a heavily made-up young lady, pouting lightly at a man.

“Naturally, a guest of Lord Zhuang’s mansion,” the man replied, sipping his wine, holding the lady in his arms, and continuing without pause: “Seven days ago, it was Lord Zhuang’s thirtieth birthday. During a grand banquet, a black cat leapt down from the beams, with a letter tied to its tail—what they call the legendary ‘Cat Tail Letter.’” He emphasized the words, “Cat Tail Letter,” then continued: “The black cat flicked its tail, and the letter fell in front of Lord Zhuang. It read: ‘Seven days hence, I shall borrow your head.’ Signed, Three Blades.” He spoke as if he had witnessed everything himself.

After finishing a piece of Yulou Chun on the zither stage, she stepped down and overheard this conversation, frowning slightly.

Three Blades, an assassin—how dare they act so arrogantly? To strike at the emperor’s own brother openly, right in the heart of the royal city! And this “it is said”—how laughable. But the Spring River Courtyard is precisely such a place: girls smile prettily, guests laugh politely, and if someone laughs too wildly or drinks too much, countless amusing stories spill from their mouths.

Carrying her gold-threaded jade hand warmer, Xue Qianxun walked indifferently through the glittering courtyard, where even the most flamboyant girls paled beside her. Men gawked from afar, daring not even to utter her name.

Xue Qianxun, notorious for her bad temper, is the Spring River Courtyard’s peerless zither master, the capital’s unrivaled beauty—and most importantly, the famous Lord Zhuang’s intimate confidante. Even the emperor would hesitate to touch her.

Xue Qianxun ignored most guests and had little contact with other girls; her quarters were isolated from the rest.

Passing down the winding corridor, she entered the Qiongyu Garden. This garden was built specially for her by Lord Zhuang; no one could enter without her permission, making it a rare quiet corner in the bustling Spring River Courtyard. For this, Xue Qianxun once unexpectedly thanked Lord Zhuang.

Stepping along the green-bricked path, she unconsciously placed each foot in the center of each brick—a small pleasure in itself.

As she wandered, a sudden gust of wind made her shiver, and she lifted her head to gaze into the void.

Winter in the imperial capital was nothing like her homeland. Snowflakes scattered in the cold air, reflecting the silver light of the moon. The pond’s withered lotuses were coated in frost, and the world seemed washed in white, vast and serene.

She did not return indoors but instead sat in the pavilion by the pond, staring at the high walls opposite.

Time passed. The hazy full moon rose, and she realized: if Three Blades had left the note on Lord Zhuang’s birthday, then the seventh day… is today. Night had fallen. If Three Blades had failed, were they dead? And yet, the legend says “Three Blades has no fate.” What if they had succeeded…?

Suddenly, a lake-colored figure appeared atop the wall, bathed in moonlight.

Xue Qianxun froze. It was a graceful woman, wearing a white jade mask that exuded deadly intent. In her right hand was a bl00d-dripping sword.

The masked woman noticed Xue Qianxun sitting across and paused briefly before stepping lightly into Qiongyu Garden.

“Careful! Below…” Xue Qianxun warned.

The woman responded with a soft “Hmm.”

“…It’s a pond,” Xue Qianxun whispered, knowing it was too late to caution. Fortunately, her worry was unnecessary. The masked woman stepped across the thin ice effortlessly, her lake-colored dress fluttering like a carefree butterfly.

Such exquisite lightness skill!

Xue Qianxun returned to her stone bench, hand warmers in hand, admiring her with both envy and caution.

“That was close. I thought I was done for,” the masked woman murmured. Behind the cold jade mask, her voice was unexpectedly warm and clear.

Xue Qianxun judged her to be fully aware of her surroundings, at least from her confident demeanor—she was no reckless fool.

“Who builds a garden with a pond beneath the wall?” the woman muttered in complaint, still slightly shaken, leaning on her sword for support.

Xue Qianxun smiled lightly. The entire city knew Lord Zhuang had built Qiongyu Garden for a courtesan zither master. Was this stranger an outsider, or simply naive? Did she look down on Lord Zhuang, or his “confidante”?

Xue Qianxun said slowly, “A pond under the wall… I think I understand the purpose.”

“To keep out thieves?” The masked woman smiled wryly, “Good thing I’m not a thief—especially not a flower thief. Otherwise, you—” she pointed at Xue Qianxun. “If you really wanted to prevent theft, a sword pool would be better.” Even giving architectural advice.

Xue Qianxun pressed on: “If you’re not a thief, then who are you? What are you doing here?”

Through the cold mask, the woman’s eyes were icy. “You little girl… you dare ask such questions of someone wielding a bloodied sword?”

Xue Qianxun paused, then smiled: “Your outfit hardly suggests a noble lady. Yet I feel strangely familiar with you. Even if you won’t answer, you wouldn’t kill me, right?”

“Familiar?” The woman’s eyes glinted with faint self-mockery—rare for her. But Xue Qianxun was unlike the rumored “aloof and arrogant” persona. She was… talkative?

“You remind me of a friend,” Xue Qianxun said thoughtfully.

“Hmm?” The woman tapped her jade mask, musing, “Could it be her… a natural warrior face?”

Xue Qianxun sighed, “I’ve never seen her true face. She, like you, wore a cold mask, yet always spoke warm words to me.”

The woman smiled faintly, tiredly: “That is truly a strange person.”

“And you say that as if you aren’t strange yourself,” Xue Qianxun teased.

“Am I strange?” The woman’s voice faltered.

Xue Qianxun noticed her growing weaker. “Why do you look more and more listless?”

The woman smiled bitterly: “Because… I think… I’m dying…”

What nonsense?!

Before she could react, the woman collapsed, leaving a trail of dark red bl00d. Xue Qianxun rushed forward—only to see the bl00d flowing from her own arm.

How could she have been injured so severely?

Xue Qianxun lifted her, cradling her head. The jade mask cracked in several places. She reached to remove it carefully.

“No!” the woman protested weakly.

Xue Qianxun ignored her, lifting the mask. Beneath it was a flawless, pale face—starry eyes, ethereal beauty.

“It’s… you?” Xue Qianxun gasped.

This face was not entirely unfamiliar.

“Truly… it’s you,” she whispered.

Such a person left an indelible impression—mask or no mask, her unparalleled aura could not be hidden.

The woman’s eyes grew weary, lips barely moving, whispering words Xue Qianxun could not hear.

“Stop speaking like a dying person. I can’t hear you,” Xue Qianxun said.

But the woman collapsed again, and Xue Qianxun caught her. Her body, cold yet soft as water.

“Hold on, I’ll find help,” Xue Qianxun remained calm… for now.

The woman pressed her forehead to Xue Qianxun’s shoulder, barely uttering: “Don’t.”

“You’re poisoned. If untreated, you’ll die.” Xue Qianxun looked around. No one was near; her isolation ensured that. She prepared to summon aid, when her waist was gripped—the woman held her long sash, knuckles white.

“Xue Qianxun…” the woman whispered with effort—she already knew her name.

“Don’t move. Focus on expelling the poison first,” Xue Qianxun instructed professionally, though her pale face betrayed the tension.

The woman refused to let go, a faint smile on her lips: “I don’t want to be nagged before I die.”

Xue Qianxun realized: she feared alerting others. The Spring River Courtyard was a mix of nobles, rogues, and martial world figures—many enemies. If they discovered her vulnerable, disaster would follow.

Xue Qianxun trembled: “How can I save you… Xifeng?”

For the first time, she addressed her by name.

Xifeng said nothing, her delicate eyes closing. She seemed poised to die serenely.

Outrageous! Panicking herself while she looks graceful in death? Xue Qianxun’s frustration surged.

“Open your eyes! Why collapse out of nowhere?”

Her breath was faint.

“Pull yourself together! Aren’t you the legendary undead, cold-blooded Xifeng?”

Could the mighty Xifeng die before her eyes?

“Xifeng! Speak to me!” Xue Qianxun lightly tapped her lips, feeling the chilling cold.

“X… Xifeng? Please don’t die… I beg you, don’t die…”

Even the usually cold Xue Qianxun cried. She wanted to hold this dying stranger, tightly, desperately, to preserve the fading life. Bl00d soaked her hands, burning, while the other grew colder—fire and ice simultaneously shattering her defenses.

——Memories of another time, like a different life.

Once, a masked Xifeng held a cold sword, a child feared even by adults. Yet she always spoke the kindest words.

One day, bl00d soaked her clothes; half the mask shattered, revealing a delicate jaw and beautiful lips. On the broken bridge, Xue Qianxun ran frantically. In the last moment, she touched Xue Qianxun’s hand, leaving a soft, cold kiss on her fingertips, before plunging into the deep lake with the fragile bridge.

Ancient memories surged, accompanied by knife-like pain.

How could one snatch someone back from death?

Xifeng felt the warmth surrounding her, strangely comforting. Dead? Perhaps death was indeed peaceful. But someone was crying—

“Idiot! Bastard! Xifeng!…”

Who dared scold her openly?

Of course, it was Spring River Courtyard’s icy beauty—Xue Qianxun, Lord Zhuang’s Xue Qianxun.

Hot tears fell on Xifeng’s face. She struggled to open her eyes, seeing Xue Qianxun crying so hard. Why?

Xue Qianxun, known for her icy temperament, cried for a stranger.

Xifeng lifted her hand to wipe Xue Qianxun’s tears. “Scold me,” she whispered.

Xue Qianxun brightened.

Xifeng smiled faintly: “Why cry?”

Xue Qianxun cried and scolded even harder: “You big idiot! You fool!” She clung to her, terrified of losing her.

“Stop scolding me, okay?” Xifeng gasped, exhausted. “Release me! Are we really that close?” She wondered if the famed cold zither master was always so passionate.

Miraculously, Xue Qianxun stopped crying, loosening her hold slightly.

Xifeng drew a shallow breath, almost at the point of death.

Xue Qianxun wiped her tears, staring at her face: “Xifeng, you remind me of her. Could you… be her?”

Her mind replayed the dying figure—bl00d flooding her chest, a nightmare she could never forget. Xue Qianxun grabbed Xifeng’s collar.

Xifeng shivered slightly, covering herself. “What are you doing?”

Xue Qianxun realized her mistake, letting go apologetically. The woman’s lashes trembled. After a while, she summoned the strength to produce a jade whistle, offering it to Xue Qianxun.

“Save me,” she whispered.

Xue Qianxun understood, blowing the whistle.

A giant black eagle descended under the moon, raising a cold wind, landing beside them. Xue Qianxun placed Xifeng gently on its back, eyes following every movement.

She gave Xifeng her cloak and hand warmer, smoothed her hair, and said solemnly: “Next time, see me alive.”

Xifeng smirked faintly: “Worth it.”

Xue Qianxun puzzled.

“It’s a secret. I saw the fourth blade—the fourth blade of Three Blades.”

Xue Qianxun shivered, frozen.

The black eagle snatched the sword from the ground, took flight, and vanished under the moonlight, leaving only a breeze stirring the snow.