Evening after evening slipped by, the winter winds growing sharper with each passing day. Yet, there were moments when the cold softened to allow Han and Jet venture out into the wilderness together.
"Have you ever seen a waterfall in winter?" Han asked as they trudged along a snow-laden trail, their breaths misting in the frigid air.
"No," Jet admitted, his curiosity sparking. "It must look beautiful, though. A frozen waterfall would be a rare sight."
Han stifled a laugh, but the faint chuckle didn't escape Jet's notice.
"What's so funny?" Jet demanded, tilting his head toward Han.
"Nothing," Han replied, his lips twitching as he held back more laughter.
Jet narrowed his eyes, pestering Han the entire way, but Han refused to explain, remaining maddeningly silent.
Finally, they reached a secluded spot on the trail where Han stopped. "Close your eyes," he instructed, his tone firm but gentle.
Jet hesitated, shooting him a skeptical glance. "What are you planning?"
"Just trust me," Han said, his breath curling in the cold air.
Reluctantly, Jet complied, squeezing his eyes shut. He jolted slightly when he felt Han's hands cover his closed eyes, the warmth of his palms shielding against the chill.
"No peeking," Han murmured, his voice unusually soft.
With careful steps, Han guided Jet forward, his hands steady as they crossed uneven ground. The crunch of snow beneath their boots was the only sound as they moved, the air growing colder with each step.
"Alright," Han said after a moment, his voice near Jet's ear. "Open your eyes."
Han's hands fell away, and Jet blinked against the sudden brightness. His gaze adjusted to reveal a breathtaking sight: the waterfall before him was still flowing, almost like a mirror reflecting the white snow's glow.
Jet's breath hitched as he took in the sight, his eyes widened "It's… flowing," he whispered, his voice almost reverent.
Han nodded, a faint smile on his lips as he watched Jet's reaction. "You said you wanted to see a waterfall in winter. Here it is."
"I've seen this every winter, best spot in Yunqing" Han said simply. "But it's even better now, seeing it with someone."
For a moment, they stood in silence, the frozen waterfall towering over them like a monument to the season's beauty. The crisp air bit at their skin, but the warmth between them felt more profound than any fire. Jet turned around, his gaze finding Han's.
Han's eyes softened, his usual stoic demeanor giving way to a quiet vulnerability. Sharing this place—a sanctuary he'd always kept to himself—stirred emotions he rarely allowed to surface. For the first time in years, the winter's chill felt powerless here. And for the first time, Han was glad, maybe even grateful, that Jet was the one standing here with him. Someone he cared about.
Jet wandered around the clearing, taking in the spot Han had brought him to. The bamboo forest stretched endlessly, snow dusting the towering stalks and the ground beneath them. Nearby, Han sat under a small pavilion, sheltered from the cold.
"What are you looking for?" Han's voice broke through the quiet as he watched Jet survey the area"
"This place—it feels different. Is it a new spot?" Jet asked, turning to face him.
Han chuckled, his breath clouding in the crisp air. "What do you mean? It's the same forest where I first brought you and Bao!" He shook his head, amused. "Come back! You're going to freeze before we even get home!"
Jet smiled, relenting as he walked back to the pavilion. He took a seat across from Han, who was busy carving something from bamboo. The simple, cylindrical piece slowly took shape under Han's skilled hands—a piggy bank, complete with a slit at the top for coins. Jet watched, fascinated, as Han carefully etched intricate designs: flowers, symbols of prosperity, and delicate patterns that gave the object life.
When Han finished carving one particular design, Jet couldn't resist picking it up. His fingers brushed over the delicate lotus blossoms and lily pads etched into the bamboo.
"This one's beautiful," Jet said softly, admiration clear in his voice.
Han glanced at him, rolling his eyes with a small smirk. "You've said that a hundred times already."
"Because it's true. You have a talent, Han. Learning all these life skills from the villagers—it's amazing. Unlike me, stuck reading everything from books, thinking that's where all the knowledge is."
Han paused his carving, looking up at Jet thoughtfully. "Books are valuable, Jet. They teach things my hands can't carve out of bamboo. Knowing how to act, manage people, or recite those poems you tell me about—that's a skill I'll never have.
Jet smiled faintly, turning the piggy bank over in his hands. "Maybe. But those skills feel… distant. What you do—making something tangible, something useful—it's different. It's real." He traced a finger over the lotus petals. "Every stroke, every detail has meaning."
Han chuckled softly, resuming his work. "And yet, I'd trade half my skills to read like you do. Life's strange that way."
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the sound of Han's knife scraping against bamboo filling the air. Jet leaned back against one of the pavilion posts, gazing up at the snow-dusted canopy above.
"Han," Jet began after a pause, his tone thoughtful, "why a lotus for this one?"
Han's hands stilled for a moment before he answered, his voice measured. "The lotus is resilient," he said quietly. "It grows in muddy water but still blooms clean and untouched. I guess I admire that."
Jet tilted his head, studying Han's expression. There was something unspoken in his words, something personal. "It suits you," he said softly. "You're like that too."
Han's hands faltered briefly, and he glanced up at Jet with a rare vulnerability in his gaze. A faint pink crept into his cheeks. "I'm not sure about that," he murmured. "But thanks."
Jet grinned, breaking the moment's tension with ease. "You're welcome. And I'm keeping this one, by the way. You can't stop me."
Han rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at his lips. "Fine, but don't expect it for free. You'll owe me."
Jet laughed, the sound carrying through the quiet clearing like warmth against the winter cold.
As Han walked Jet home, the crunch of snow beneath their boots filled the silence until they crossed paths with Xiao Yu. She approached with a small basket of food, meant for Han.
"I brought this for you," she said, her tone polite but her eyes flickering to Jet briefly.
Han hesitated, about to decline, but Jet nudged him gently. "Take it," he whispered.
Reluctantly, Han nodded. "Thank you," he said simply, accepting the basket.
Xiao Yu gave a quick bow to both of them before turning to leave, but not before her gaze lingered on Jet. The look she gave him wasn't one of kindness—it carried something colder, sharper.
Once she was out of sight, Jet leaned closer to Han, his voice low. "Did you notice that?"
"The way she looked at you? Of course," Han replied nonchalantly. "It means she doesn't like you."
Jet raised an eyebrow, amused. "Her loss, I suppose."
Han smirked, glancing at him. "Exactly. She doesn't know what she's missing—a good friend like you."
Jet grinned, taking the opportunity to tease. "You like her?"
Han rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "No."
But Jet wasn't about to let it go. "You're lying. Come on, admit it—you want to tell her how you feel, don't you?"
Han sighed dramatically, though a small smile tugged at his lips. "I want to tell her, and yet I don't want to tell her."
"Aha! So you do like her!" Jet said, his tone playful but laced with sarcasm. "It's okay, Han. Everyone has secrets. It's normal to hide your feelings."
"Yes, yes, very funny," Han replied, his tone dry but his eyes glinting with humor. "But for the record, I already have someone in mind."