The wind of the fourth watch wrapped in frost pierced through shirt collars as Ye Fan stood upon the bluestone high platform of the martial arts arena, gazing down at his busy clansmen. Fifth Uncle was stepping up a ladder to adjust the spirit-attracting banner beneath the eaves, the rope knots chafing his palms until they turned red; Ye Hongyuan roared at the bodyguards to haul over the final few crates of dark iron arrowheads, sweat beading on his forehead and dripping down his collar, staining his cyan tunic with dark circles.
"Young master." Xiaocui's voice came from behind him, carrying a hint of cautious flattery. Her hands holding the teacup were frozen red, her knuckles turning pale from gripping the cup's rim for too long, and a few ginger slices floated amidst the tea mist. "I simmered this in the kitchen for half an hour, please drink it while it's hot."
When Ye Fan took the teacup, his fingertips brushed against the warmth of the cup's wall, feeling much like touching a ball of fire. In his past life when he fell, his blood had dripped into the cold night and quickly frozen into ice shards; when had he ever known such warmth carrying the mortal scent of cooking smoke? He lowered his head and took a sip, the sweet and spicy ginger flavor shooting straight up his nasal cavity, and suddenly he remembered how Lin Zhaoyue in the cargo depot could clearly have broken through with sword qi, yet deliberately tugged at his sleeve—so being cared for by others tasted this …
Chapter 20