46: Chapter 46 Lin Shiyun's Subjugation

Frost Mage Lin Shiyun's ice-blue pupils were like two ice lakes stirred by a storm in the morning light; the lake water churned, the ice surface cracked, and cold light shot out in all directions. Yet beneath that cold light lay a thin layer of panic and fragility, like a warm current surging beneath the ice of early spring.

"Wang Sheng, that's enough!" Her voice was half a tone higher than usual, and her silvery-white hair drifted slightly due to the fluctuation of her spiritual power, like a curtain of snow in a blizzard.

"What exactly do you want? What do you want me to say? That you're amazing? That all the women in the world should revolve around you? You think you are..."

"I want to hear the truth."

Wang Sheng stood up.

He walked up to Frost Mage Lin Shiyun. The morning light shone in through the gap in the tent flap, drawing a golden outline behind him and enveloping the Frost Mage in his shadow.

They were less than three steps apart, close enough to feel each other's breath. His breath was warm, and hers was icy cold. The two currents of air intersected in the chill of the tent, like two streams of different temperatures colliding, rising into a faint mist.

"Shiyun, you can lie to yourself, but you can't lie to me." He looked into her eyes, the moisture in her ice-blue pupils shimmering in the morning light like stars reflected in an ice lake.

"You can keep saying 'Who would want to marry you,' keep saying it's because I'm the Chieftain, keep sealing yourself off with an ice wall, but your hands won't lie. You held my hand for ten hours, and you wouldn't let go even when you were asleep."

Frost Mage Lin Shiyun's lips were tightly pursed, her pale pink lips bitten until they turned white, almost to the point of bleeding.

Her hands were unnaturally crossed over her chest, her fingers turning slightly white from the force; that was her final line of defense, an ice wall she had spent four years building.

Outside the ice wall was indifference, tsundere behavior, and the stubbornness of "Who would want to marry you"; inside the ice wall was:

It was the New Year's party during her freshman year, when Wang Sheng handed her a glass of orange juice and said, "If you don't drink it, I'll keep it for you." When she took it, her fingertips touched the back of his hand, and she had remembered that momentary warmth for four years.

It was the first time her Frost Spell went out of control and nearly froze half the camp, when he walked through the ice field and held her hand, saying, "Don't be afraid, I'm fine." No one had ever walked through her ice field before; no one had ever dared to hold the hand of an out-of-control Frost Mage.

It was the second her fingers lingered when he handed her spirit water after the Beast Tide ended; she told herself it was unintentional, but in that second, her heart beat so fast it felt like it was going to explode.

It was the moment on the battlefield when she saw him sent flying by the Giant Horned Rhino King, the sharp pain in her chest like being pierced by an ice pick; that wasn't fear, but something more primal and uncontrollable than fear, something called "caring."

It was the moment she rushed up to support him after he fainted; all the reserve of the Frost Mage, all the "showing weakness is losing," all the four years of the ice wall—the moment she felt his body slip from her hands, it all shattered into dust.

"I," Frost Mage Lin Shiyun began, her voice so hoarse it didn't sound like her own.

She wanted to say "I'm fine," wanted to say "You're overthinking it," wanted to say those lies she had been telling for four years, had said countless times, and had almost started to believe herself.

But Wang Sheng just stood there in front of her, the morning light drawing a golden outline behind him. His eyes were clear and earnest, without questioning or coercion, only a quiet warmth like moonlight shining on an ice surface. That warmth was not a scorching flame that would melt the ice into wretched water, but like the warm sun of winter, bit by bit, gently and silently, causing cracks to appear on the surface of the ice.

Once the cracks appeared, they could not heal. Just like ice turning into water, it was irreversible.

"I," Frost Mage Lin Shiyun's voice trembled.

Her lips opened and closed, closed and opened. The Frost Mage's mouth was just as uncooperative as her tear ducts; they always went on strike when they were needed most.

Four years of "showing weakness is losing," four years of "Who would want to marry you," four years of the ice wall—it wasn't one wall, but countless layers of ice, one stacked upon another. Each time she refused, a layer was added; each time she was hurt, a layer was added, until she herself had forgotten what was originally beneath the ice wall.

But now, the ice wall had cracks in the morning light. It didn't collapse with a crash; ice walls didn't fall like that. Instead, it was bit by bit, like a warm spring breeze brushing over the winter ice. First, a hair-thin crack appeared, then the cracks spread, expanded, and intertwined. Finally, the ice shattered from within—not broken by an external force, but choosing to shatter itself.

Because things that have been frozen for too long are not that they don't need warmth, but that they are too desperate for it, which is why they block warmth out.

"Wang Sheng," she called his name.

Not "Chieftain," not "you," but "Wang Sheng"—this name, which she only dared to call in her heart, had now been spoken aloud by her for the first time.

And then, the Frost Mage cried.

It wasn't a wail, not a sob, but tears silently overflowing from her ice-blue pupils. One drop, two drops, three drops, like water beads seeping out onto the ice surface, crystal clear, refracting colorful light in the morning sun.

Her expression wasn't twisted, not broken, and there wasn't even much sadness. The Frost Mage's first time crying was not out of sorrow or grievance, but a sense of relief that she finally didn't have to pretend anymore.

It was like snow melting, like the ice surface cracking, like she had walked alone in the cold for too, too long, and finally someone had walked over and said, "You don't have to pretend anymore."

That four-year-old ice wall shattered completely in this moment.

"I... I'm not doing this because you're the Chieftain..." Her voice trembled, tears constantly overflowing from her ice-blue pupils, sliding down her jade-white cheeks like spring water flowing on snow-covered mountains. Every drop refracted a cold and stunning beauty in the morning light. "I have never done this because you're the Chieftain..."

"I know." Wang Sheng's voice was very soft, so soft it was almost drowned out by the sound of the Lingxi River outside the tent.

He reached out—not to take her hand, not to wipe away her tears—but gently, as if touching a fragile ice flower about to shatter, he brushed a strand of her silvery-white hair that had fallen over her forehead behind her ear.

When his fingertips grazed her earlobe, the Frost Mage trembled slightly. Her earlobes were icy cold, like two small pearls soaked in moonlight, but the moment his fingertips touched them, the temperature climbed sharply, turning red as if they were about to burn.

Then he took a step forward and pulled her into his arms.

It wasn't a violent hug, not an overbearing embrace, but gently, as if catching a snowflake falling from the sky. One hand wrapped around her back, the other hand gently pressed against the back of her head, letting her forehead rest in the crook of his shoulder.

Frost Mage Lin Shiyun's body stiffened for a moment. The Frost Mage's instinctive reaction was to raise an ice wall, but her spiritual power had long been in chaos due to the emotional fluctuation, and the ice wall could not be formed at all.

Then her body began to tremble—not the trembling of cold, but a trembling like a dam breaking, a release of emotions that had been suppressed for too long and had finally found an outlet.

Her hands hesitated for a second, only a second, then suddenly wrapped around Wang Sheng's waist. The force was astonishing; the Frost Mage's arm strength far exceeded what her appearance implied. The strength with which she held him was as if she were clutching the last piece of driftwood in the world, her fingers gripping the clothes on his back, her knuckles turning slightly white from the force.