The train had been traveling for a day and a night.

The scenery outside grew increasingly desolate, and as the train pulled into the station, they finally reached their destination.

Heavy snow was falling outside, piling thick layers on the ground. Zhou Jiayu and Shen Yiqiong, bundled in bulky down jackets, stood in stark contrast to Lin Zhushui’s thin trench coat.

A few college students got off at this stop too. They’d been hesitant but approached just before disembarking, likely because Zhou Jiayu seemed approachable. One of the girls, Xiao Ju, spoke up: “Masters, can I ask where you’re headed? If it’s on the way, maybe we could go together?”

Zhou Jiayu remembered Xiao Ju as the one who’d seen the mountain spirit outside the train window that night. He said, “Sorry, we’re probably not going the same way. Why’d you come to such a remote place for a trip?”

Xiao Ju grumbled, “It was my classmate’s idea. Said there’s some amazing ice sculpture exhibition here… Now we haven’t seen any ice sculptures, just a few ghosts.” She was clearly annoyed, her tone laced with resentment.

Zhou Jiayu smiled. “Be careful, then. Don’t go too deep into the mountains. If the snow keeps up, the station might close. Leave early if you can.”

“I know,” Xiao Ju said, pouting. “Can we exchange phone numbers? Just in case something happens—I’m really scared of running into something.”

Zhou Jiayu hesitated briefly but swapped numbers with her.

After getting his number, Xiao Ju left happily. Shen Yiqiong, sulking beside him, muttered, “Zhou Jiayu, how are you so popular with women?”

Zhou Jiayu replied, “I’m surrounded by guys. How do you figure I’m popular with women?”

Shen Yiqiong said, “Forgot? That female ghost came looking for you.”

Zhou Jiayu’s face twisted. “Next time an opportunity like that comes up, it’s all yours.”

Shen Yiqiong, thrilled, said, “You’re too kind!”

Zhou Jiayu was speechless, thinking lovesick boys were truly terrifying.

The train passengers gradually disembarked. Lin Zhushui didn’t rush to leave the station, as if waiting for someone.

Zhou Jiayu assumed Lin Zhushui had arranged to meet a local, but to his surprise, he spotted a familiar figure at the platform—Shen Musi.

Shen Musi, wrapped in thick winter gear, waved at them. “Teacher! Yiqiong! Jiayu!”

Shen Yiqiong, excited, said, “Senior Brother, what are you doing here?”

Shen Musi replied, “Come on out, I’ll explain.”

A snow-ready SUV was parked outside. Shen Musi took the driver’s seat, Shen Yiqiong hopped into the passenger seat, and said, “Senior Brother, long time no see! Why’re you in Sheshan?”

Shen Musi said, “Master sent me to scout the area first.” Glancing at Shen Yiqiong, he added, “Yiqiong, how’d you get even darker?”

Shen Yiqiong: “…” He froze, then gritted his teeth after a long pause. “Shen Musi, can’t you say something human for once?”

Zhou Jiayu stifled a laugh in the back.

The station was near a small town, remote and economically underdeveloped. Zhou Jiayu noticed there were hardly any vehicles—only one, a tractor.

“Not many people come here. There’s just one guesthouse,” Shen Musi said. “I booked rooms for you. They’re basic, but manageable.”

Lin Zhushui didn’t mind, asking, “Did you find what I asked you to look for?”

Shen Musi replied, “I found it, but I haven’t gone to check it out.” He paused, then added, “It’s a long trip. If I’d gone, I wouldn’t have been able to come back to pick you up.”

Lin Zhushui nodded.

They checked into the guesthouse and decided to eat, rest for the night, and head out tomorrow.

Shen Musi warned that the guesthouse food was awful—he could barely stomach it after three days—so he’d bought meat and vegetables in town to cook.

As he spoke, his eyes unmistakably flicked toward Zhou Jiayu.

Zhou Jiayu: “…” Fine, fine, he got it. Cooking, right?

Everyone was thrilled at the prospect of a good meal. Zhou Jiayu checked the ingredients and decided to make a simple pork and glass noodle stew.

He soaked the noodles, prepped the pork, and threw everything into the pot to simmer.

Thankfully, the guesthouse had gas. Shen Yiqiong hovered nearby, peering into the pot. “When’s it ready?”

Zhou Jiayu, chopping vegetables, said, “What are you, a grade-schooler? Peel some garlic!”

So Shen Yiqiong started peeling garlic.

As they chatted, Zhou Jiayu remarked that the town felt empty. Though small, it had a pure atmosphere. Since arriving, he hadn’t sensed any dark energy or unease.

“I think the town’s pretty normal too,” Shen Yiqiong said. “But Sheshan’s not around here. It’s deeper in the mountains. Teacher dealt with their people before…”

Zhou Jiayu asked, “What’re they like?”

Shen Yiqiong said, “Hard to say… Every clan has good and bad folks, so you can’t generalize. But these ancient clans are usually conservative. They don’t welcome outsiders.”

Zhou Jiayu nodded.

Dinner was ready, paired with a big pot of steamed rice.

Four grown men had hearty appetites. Zhou Jiayu used three pounds of pork, adding cabbage, sweet potato noodles, and other ingredients. He made a garlic sauce, set everything out, and called them to eat.

Though simple, the dish was flavorful. The town’s pork, free of feed additives, was fragrant, the handmade noodles perfect, and the cabbage added a sweet touch.

“Delicious!” Shen Yiqiong beamed, slurping noodles.

Shen Musi’s expression softened too, proving food truly soothes the soul. Zhou Jiayu’s cooking never left leftovers, and this was no exception. They polished off the stew, with Shen Yiqiong even using the broth to mix a bowl of rice.

Zhou Jiayu said, “Save the broth. We can use it for noodle soup tomorrow morning.”

Shen Musi nodded. “We head to Sheshan the day after tomorrow. Prep some gear—your down jackets won’t cut it. Get military coats and snow boots.” As Lin Zhushui’s senior disciple, he was meticulous, unlike Shen Yiqiong’s carefree attitude.

Lin Zhushui said, “Rest early.”

Zhou Jiayu and Shen Yiqiong agreed.

An overnight hard-seat train ride was grueling, especially after the mountain spirit’s antics kept them up half the night. Zhou Jiayu entered his room, tidied up, boiled water to soak his feet, and prepared for bed.

“It’s so quiet here,” Zhou Jiayu said, soaking his feet by the window. It was only around 4 p.m., still light out, but the streets were empty. The shop across the street was already closed. Snow fell steadily, rustling softly, making the town feel even stiller.

Ji Ba, perched on the turtle, preened its feathers slowly. “Yeah, hardly anyone around. This town’s population must be small.”

From the station to the guesthouse, they’d seen barely anyone. The guesthouse front desk was empty. Shen Musi said the lady who worked there only showed up in the mornings, disappearing in the afternoon to do chores. The guesthouse was just her side gig. Made sense—without visitors for weeks, sitting there was pointless.

Zhou Jiayu said, “Hmm… Living cut off from the world like this seems kinda nice.” Though early, he was sleepy, so he prepped the bed.

The guesthouse, long unused, had damp bedding. Zhou Jiayu warmed it by the heater, then climbed in. Lying down, he checked his phone, finding the signal weak—one bar, flickering in and out.

Playing an offline game, Zhou Jiayu was engrossed in level 132 of a match-three game when he heard a strange sound.

“Ji Ba, you hear something?” Zhou Jiayu asked.

Ji Ba replied, “Yeah… coming from the window?”

Zhou Jiayu was experienced enough to know these sounds never meant good news—something always happened. Hearing it now, he stayed in bed. “If I pretend I didn’t hear it, will that be better?”

Ji Ba said, “But it’s getting closer…”

The sound was indeed nearing. What started as faint was now clear—a heavy object being dragged, crunching through snow with a creak, creak. Zhou Jiayu wanted to ignore it, but the noise stopped right under his window.

“I’ll just take a quick peek, okay?” Zhou Jiayu said, half to Ji Ba, half to himself. “What if something’s right under my window and I don’t know…”

Ji Ba cautioned, “Be careful.”

Amid the eerie sound, Zhou Jiayu slipped on clothes, crept out of bed, and approached the window.

Outside was cloaked in darkness, but the snow on the ground and roofs made it surprisingly bright.

Crouching under the window, Zhou Jiayu peeked out.

He saw a few people walking, dressed in thick winter clothes, looking like ordinary townsfolk. But what they were dragging stood out—an exquisite ice sculpture of a long-haired woman, one hand raised in a beckoning gesture. Every detail, from her flowing hair to her lifelike expression, marked it as a valuable work of art.

The people pulled ropes attached to a wooden board, the sculpture atop it.

Recalling Xiao Ju’s mention of an ice sculpture festival, Zhou Jiayu relaxed slightly. This wasn’t anything strange—just locals moving a sculpture. But then he noticed something, and his expression froze.

The ice sculpture, facing forward moments ago, had turned its head—directly toward the guesthouse where Zhou Jiayu hid. Its pupil-less eyes stared at the faintly glowing window. Zhou Jiayu felt as if their gazes met, sucked in a breath, and ducked below the sill, not daring to look again.

Creak, creak—the sound gradually faded, vanishing from earshot.

Clutching his pounding heart, Zhou Jiayu swallowed hard. “Ji Ba, that wasn’t my imagination, right?”

Ji Ba confirmed, “Nope, I saw it too. The sculpture turned its head, didn’t it?” A full 180 degrees.

Zhou Jiayu regretted his curiosity. “I shouldn’t have looked…”

Ji Ba said, “Since nothing happened, forget it. Sleep.”

Zhou Jiayu agreed, scrambling back to bed.

After the people dragging the sculpture left, silence returned. The wind howled, rattling the windows as if the thin glass might shatter. Zhou Jiayu felt freezing in bed. Winters were harsh—his body, especially his feet, stayed cold, almost numb. Exhausted but kept awake by the bone-chilling cold, he tossed and turned. By past 10 p.m., sleep still eluded him.

Shivering, he said, “Ji Ba, I’m so cold. What do I do…”

Ji Ba suggested, “Why not ask Teacher? He’ll have a solution.”

Zhou Jiayu hesitated. “But it’s late. Isn’t it rude to bother him?”

Ji Ba countered, “Don’t overthink it. If you don’t sleep and get sick tomorrow, that’s worse.”

Zhou Jiayu saw the logic, so, trembling, he dressed and knocked on Lin Zhushui’s door.

“What’s wrong?” Lin Zhushui opened the door moments later. Unlike Zhou Jiayu, he wore only a thin black sweater, form-fitting and accentuating his broad shoulders and slim waist. Normally, Zhou Jiayu might’ve stolen a few glances, but he was too cold, feeling like he was turning to wood. “T-T-Teacher, I’m s-so cold, I can’t stand it.”

Lin Zhushui frowned, touching Zhou Jiayu’s hand—ice-cold. “Come in.”

Zhou Jiayu blinked. “Huh?”

Lin Zhushui repeated, “Come in.”

Zhou Jiayu, dazed and shivering, stumbled into Lin Zhushui’s room.

The room had no heater, yet it felt oddly warm. Zhou Jiayu huddled in a chair as Lin Zhushui said, “I’ll get you some hot water.”

Frozen to the core, Zhou Jiayu didn’t know why he was so cold. When Lin Zhushui handed him the water, his expression was still blank.

Lin Zhushui crouched down, touching Zhou Jiayu’s forehead. “Zhou Jiayu?”

Too cold to speak, Zhou Jiayu clutched the cup and gulped the water. Heat exploded from his stomach, surging through his veins to his heart and limbs, banishing the chill and leaving him limp with relief.

“Why was it that cold…” Zhou Jiayu muttered, still shaken.

Lin Zhushui didn’t respond. Instead, he suddenly pressed a hand to Zhou Jiayu’s head and leaned in close.

Startled by the move, Zhou Jiayu’s heart raced as Lin Zhushui’s face drew near. They were so close that a slight tilt would’ve brought their lips together…

Zhou Jiayu was so flustered he nearly passed out. As his heart pounded, Lin Zhushui blew a breath by his ear, then reached behind it, pulling out something.

Zhou Jiayu froze, staring at the object in Lin Zhushui’s hand—a small blue paper piece, shaped like a hexagonal snowflake, which began melting between his fingers.

Snapping back, Zhou Jiayu recalled the thing he’d seen outside.

Icy water dripped from Lin Zhushui’s fingers to the floor. As if he already knew, he asked, “What did you see?”

Zhou Jiayu stammered out what he’d witnessed.

Lin Zhushui frowned slightly. “An ice sculpture? You saw an ice sculpture?”

“Yeah,” Zhou Jiayu said, clutching the empty glass. “Some people were dragging it past my room. I peeked through the window… and the sculpture turned its head, looking right at me.”

Before all this, Zhou Jiayu wouldn’t have believed it himself, but after everything he’d been through, he had to.

Lin Zhushui didn’t seem surprised by the ice sculpture, murmuring, “Why here? Did they leave Sheshan?”

Hearing “Sheshan,” Zhou Jiayu asked, “Teacher, is the Xu clan in Sheshan connected to the ice sculpture?”

Lin Zhushui nodded, explaining that Sheshan’s six months of snowfall fostered a culture of ice sculpting. They made two types: ordinary ones and those for rituals. Legend said ritual sculptures were unique, touchable only by those with pure Xu clan blood. Outsiders who even glanced at them faced trouble. These were just industry rumors, unconfirmed.

“They’re fond of paper figures, ice sculptures, and anything human-like but not human,” Lin Zhushui said. “To them, controllable inanimate objects are more trustworthy than people.”

The paper figures attacking Zhou Jiayu were surely tied to the Xu clan, which was why Lin Zhushui had come to Sheshan—to find the culprit and eliminate them.

“So the ice sculpture I saw was for their rituals?” Zhou Jiayu asked, recalling its intricate craftsmanship, unlike anything he’d seen.

“Perhaps,” Lin Zhushui said. “Stay in my room tonight to avoid trouble.”

Zhou Jiayu blinked. “Uh, T-Teacher, isn’t that… inappropriate?”

Lin Zhushui said calmly, “What’s inappropriate?”

Zhou Jiayu scrambled for an excuse but couldn’t say he was gay. In that moment’s hesitation, he lost his chance to argue. Lin Zhushui’s gentle tone carried an undeniable authority.

Resigned, Zhou Jiayu grabbed his bedding from his room and climbed onto Lin Zhushui’s bed. Thankfully, the guesthouse bed was large, and with winter’s chill, there was no worry of accidental contact. Still, Zhou Jiayu’s heart pounded, his body stiff as a board as he lay with his eyes closed.

Lin Zhushui, noticing, sounded puzzled. “Still scared of me?”

Zhou Jiayu whispered, “I… I’m not scared of you, Teacher.”

“Then why so tense?”

“I’m just… not used to sleeping with someone else…” Zhou Jiayu mumbled.

Lin Zhushui said, “Make do for tonight.”

His calm, matter-of-fact tone made Zhou Jiayu realize he’d overthought things.

To Lin Zhushui, he was just a likable junior, prone to attracting weird things due to his unique constitution, prompting extra care. The actions that flustered Zhou Jiayu were, to anyone else, normal concern. If Shen Yiqiong had faced this, Lin Zhushui would likely offer the same. Realizing this, Zhou Jiayu felt an inexplicable pang of disappointment.

Beside him, Lin Zhushui’s breathing grew steady—he’d fallen asleep.

Staring at the ceiling, Zhou Jiayu’s eyelids grew heavy, and he drifted off.

The night was peaceful and warm, free of cold or nightmares. Zhou Jiayu slept until dawn.

The next morning, the snow had stopped. Bright sunlight hung in a vivid blue sky, dotted with fluffy white clouds.

When Zhou Jiayu woke, Lin Zhushui was gone. He dressed slowly and stepped out, running into Shen Musi.

Seeing Zhou Jiayu exit Lin Zhushui’s room, Shen Musi startled. “Zhou Jiayu, what happened? Did something go down last night?”

“How’d you know?” Zhou Jiayu asked.

“If nothing happened, why’d you come out of Teacher’s room?”

Zhou Jiayu hesitated, then asked quietly, “Musi, have you ever slept in Teacher’s room?”

Shen Musi answered candidly, “Yeah.”

Zhou Jiayu’s heart sank. He’d been right.

But Shen Musi’s next words lifted it again. “I often crash on the floor in Teacher’s room.”

Zhou Jiayu: “…” The floor? His deflated inner self sprang up, shouting, Zhou Jiayu, you’re special! They sleep on the floor, but you got the bed!

Shen Musi, alarmed, said, “Zhou Jiayu, what’s wrong? That smile’s creepy.”

Zhou Jiayu touched his nose. “Nothing, nothing. Let’s eat breakfast.”

Shen Musi eyed him suspiciously. He’d never seen Zhou Jiayu practically skipping, like Shen Yiqiong had possessed him.

Buoyed by his mood, Zhou Jiayu’s morning noodles were extra delicious.

Shen Yiqiong loved noodles—as long as he didn’t have to make them.

Over breakfast, Shen Musi briefed them on Sheshan. Though remote, it was accessible by car, and the mostly flat terrain meant no road closures.

Curious, Zhou Jiayu asked, “How long have you been here?”

“Over a month,” Shen Musi said.

A month… That meant he’d arrived around the time Zhou Jiayu was first attacked by paper figures. Lin Zhushui had anticipated this trip, sending Shen Musi to prepare.

They spent the day gearing up for the mountains. Zhou Jiayu and Shen Yiqiong bought military coats and snow boots in town, trading style for warmth.

Though the town had few people, locals weren’t hostile to outsiders, even seeming welcoming. Zhou Jiayu casually asked about ice sculptures and learned the town held an ice festival, with sculptures preserved from early winter to early summer.

“Why haven’t we seen any?” Zhou Jiayu asked.

“They’re by the river, at the fairground,” a local with a thick accent said. “Gotta buy tickets.”

Zhou Jiayu nodded. The town had tourism ambitions, but its remote location made it tough—only impulsive youngsters visited.

Shen Yiqiong noticed Zhou Jiayu’s serious look. “What’s up, Guan’er? You’re all grim.”

“I’ll tell you outside,” Zhou Jiayu said.

Outside the shop, Zhou Jiayu recounted what he’d seen last night. Shen Yiqiong was shocked. “You really saw the sculpture turn its head?”

“Yeah,” Zhou Jiayu said. “It nearly froze me to death.”

“Wanna check out the river after we’re done?” Shen Yiqiong suggested.

“Sure,” Zhou Jiayu agreed.

Back at the guesthouse, Lin Zhushui and Shen Musi were gone, handling some business and advising them to stay safe. After discussing, Zhou Jiayu and Shen Yiqiong decided to visit the ice fair, a short walk south, according to locals.

The ice sculptures were by the river, likely for easy ice access.

Walking a few hundred meters, they reached a vast plain dotted with glistening sculptures, surrounded by ice walls. Entry required tickets.

Shen Yiqiong, ever the kid at heart, was thrilled, rushing to buy two tickets. The ticket seller, an old man bundled up until only his eyes showed, was barely recognizable.

Zhou Jiayu had thought the fair was riverside, but it was atop the frozen river itself. Despite early winter, the river was solid, a sign of the region’s low temperatures.

Tickets were 25 yuan each—cheap. Zhou Jiayu and Shen Yiqiong entered.

The sculptures varied—humans, animals, buildings. Shen Yiqiong gleefully slid down a giant ice slide.

Zhou Jiayu searched for the sculpture from last night, noting that its path had been south, possibly toward here.

The sculptures were all exquisite. Zhou Jiayu admired swan sculptures, their feathers so detailed they seemed ready to fly.

But after circling the fair, he didn’t find last night’s sculpture. Unsure whether to feel relieved or disappointed, he called Shen Yiqiong to leave.

Shen Yiqiong bounced happily, his scarf falling off.

Zhou Jiayu, thinking him a total grade-schooler, bent to pick it up but froze when he noticed marks on the ice. His body stiffened as he realized what they were.

Shen Yiqiong, clueless, asked, “Guan’er, what’s wrong?”

Wordlessly, Zhou Jiayu pointed at the ice.

Shen Yiqiong crouched, and his hair stood on end. Beneath the ice were countless handprints, left when the river was freezing but not fully solid. Their outlines were blurry but unmistakably human-sized.

“Haha, w-what’s this?” Shen Yiqiong’s face was rigid.

Zhou Jiayu said, “…We’re not seeing things, right?”

Shen Yiqiong groaned, “I’d rather we were.”

The only tourists in the fair, they’d felt fine before, but now the sculptures seemed eerie, sending chills down their spines.

“Let’s go,” Shen Yiqiong said, unnerved. “Nothing… worth seeing.”

Zhou Jiayu thought, You weren’t saying that when you were romping like a puppy. But he nodded, agreeing.

As they left, the ticket seller stared, gruffly asking if they had complaints.

They shook their heads like rattles, thinking, Complain? When those handprints are frozen in the ice?

They hurried back to the guesthouse, huddling inside like quails, too spooked to go anywhere.

Lin Zhushui and Shen Musi returned in the afternoon, finding the two sitting by closed windows, waiting eagerly.

“Senior Brother~~~” Shen Yiqiong whined.

Shen Musi recoiled. “Shen Yiqiong, you possessed? What’s with that face and tone?”

Shen Yiqiong: “…”

Lin Zhushui, more perceptive, asked, “What happened?”

Zhou Jiayu quickly recounted the ice fair incident.

Lin Zhushui listened impassively, then said softly, “Ever consider that those sculptures might be tied to living people?”

Zhou Jiayu had suspected as much, and now, hearing it, he wanted to huddle with Shen Yiqiong and tremble.

Sensing his reaction, Lin Zhushui’s lips curved, amused. “Don’t be scared. I’m joking.”

Zhou Jiayu: “…” Teacher, you’ve changed.

Lin Zhushui added, “There’s probably a misunderstanding. The Xu clan in Sheshan doesn’t practice human sacrifice.”

If so, how to explain the handprints? But Lin Zhushui’s calm suggested it wasn’t serious. Alone, Zhou Jiayu might’ve doubted his eyes.

Shen Yiqiong, Lin Zhushui’s fanboy, took his word as gospel. If Teacher said it was fine, he relaxed, even chirping that the ice fair was fun, especially the slide.

Zhou Jiayu envied Shen Yiqiong’s simplicity—fools seemed to live longer.

“Rest well tonight,” Lin Zhushui said. “We head to Sheshan tomorrow.” He paused, turning to Zhou Jiayu. “If you’re scared, you can sleep in my room again.”

Zhou Jiayu’s face flushed. Before he could respond, Shen Yiqiong, the dimwit, shouted, “Teacher, I’m scared too! I wanna come!”

Zhou Jiayu: “…”

That night, Zhou Jiayu grudgingly slept on the floor with Shen Yiqiong. Shen Yiqiong asked, “Guan’er, what’s with that scary face?”

“Nothing—” Zhou Jiayu gritted out. “Sleep!”

Shen Yiqiong looked baffled.

__

Author’s Note:
Zhou Jiayu: I officially announce I’ve slept with Teacher!
Lin Zhushui: Officially? How about an unofficial round?
Zhou Jiayu: (:з」∠)