“Mmm...”

My head rocked like a skiff on misty water, but clarity finally rose like dawn over a lake. My cheek lay on something cloud-soft, scented like familiar jasmine.

“Thank goodness! Brother, you’re finally awake.” Her voice tinkled above me, like silver bells in a breeze. I forced my heavy lids open, lifting frost from shutters.

Words froze on my tongue like winter rime. I stared.

A girl knelt there, hair long as midnight and lustrous as ink, a beauty dressed in a black Gothic lolita dress edged with white lace like snow on dark eaves. That alone wouldn’t stun me; beautiful as she was, against Xinuo she still fell a shade. What shocked me was the warmth under the ice: I knew this girl, as close as hearth-fire in winter, even if years had flowed past like a river.

“Lingsaki, welcome back.” The name left me like a breath into candlelight.

Yes—she was one of my dearest sisters, Yugami Rexi. Years ago, the Dual Daynight Tomes chose her and Lingxiao. They left home for the Daynight Sanctuary to inherit those tomes, like stars entering a temple of night and dawn.

I hadn’t expected the inheritance to last so long. Four years slipped by like falling leaves. If I hadn’t feared interrupting their rite, I’d have knocked on that sacred gate long ago.

“Mm. Brother, I’m home.” She bent down and hugged my head to her, her whisper brushing my ear like a feather. My ear tingled, kitten-soft and itchy.

She’s grown so much these four years, I thought, a sapling turned to willow. Last I saw her, she was a tiny sprite with bright eyes.

Now, she was a lovely young lady—though my head was locked to her chest, my face planted in a sweet, warm valley, and the air thinned like high mountain wind.

I couldn’t bring myself to push her away after four winters apart. I endured, and the embrace was a soft tide, warm and fragrant.

So I let her hold me for nearly half an hour, sands falling silent as snow. When my limits creaked like old bamboo, she finally let go.

“At first, I was worried—what if Brother didn’t recognize me?” Her cheeks bloomed pink, like peach blossoms after rain.

“What do you take me for?” I sat up and ruffled her hair, fingers combing silk like a night breeze through reeds. “You’re my most precious sister. A few years won’t make me forget. I’ve missed you and Lingxiao, often.”

“Me too!” She flung herself at me again, a swallow to its eave. This time I was sitting, so she settled right onto my lap and hugged me. Alarms fluttered like sparrows in my chest—maybe it was just my imagination.

I glanced around. Only the two of us were here, the world quiet as a pond. “Where’s Lingxiao? I don’t see her.”

“Brother, Lingxiao’s on the other side.” Her arms looped my neck like a soft scarf. She studied my face, her dark eyes deep as a moonless well. “Mm. Brother is still so cute.”

“Lingsaki, calling your brother cute isn’t great, is it?” Irritation pricked like nettles. I did wish for a father’s kind of mature, handsome air sometimes.

“Then… pretty?” She tilted her head, like a sparrow listening to thunder, and almost made me spit blood.

“Let’s stick with cute—” My stomach chose that moment to growl, a drum in an empty hall. Heat climbed my face; the shame was a firefly flickering in the dark.

“Brother, are you hungry?” Her concern fell soft as spring rain.

“Yeah.” Pride shrank like salt in water. I nodded hard. Hungry didn’t cover it; my ribs felt like doors meeting in a draft.

“All right. Brother, please wait a moment.” She rose, light as a petal, and unhooked the Book of Night from her belt. She opened to the early pages, ink glinting like star-water. “Spatial pouch, open.”

Over the table—only then did I notice we were in a pavilion, pillars cool as shade—a door-sized rift unfurled, like a seam opening in the sky.

“Let me see...” She re-hung the Book of Night, then reached into the rift, arms vanishing like hands in a clear stream. Soon she drew out several neatly wrapped boxes, each about face-sized, their paper crisp as winter bark.

“Close.” At her word, the rift sealed like a stitched cloud. She returned to my lap, settled there like a warm quilt, and began opening the boxes one by one. Steam rose at once, fragrant as a night market after rain, making my hunger howl like wolves.

Soon every box was open. Inside lay a small feast—dishes and drinks, everything you could imagine. The heat rolled out, carrying spice and comfort, each bowl steaming like a little hearth.

“Here, Brother. Ah—” She lifted a bowl of noodles, turned on my lap, and angled the chopsticks toward my lips.

“Uh, Lingsaki… I can feed myself.” With two hands and a working mouth, having my sister feed me was mortifying; pride flapped like a trapped bird.

“Here, Brother. Ah—” She held firm, chopsticks poised like a crane over water.

“...Ah. Ah.” I opened up. Chewed. The warmth spread through me like sunlight through frost.

“Brother, is it good?”

“Yeah. It’s really good,” I said, warmth blooming like tea in a cup.

“Is it? Then have more. There’s plenty. Don’t hold back.”

“...Thanks for the trouble.”

“No trouble at all. Feeding Brother is my supreme honor,” she said, solemn as a vow, bright as lantern light.

What was going on? Her brother-obsession had leveled up like a sudden spring flood. She was about to match Serenemoon’s little-bro fixation, bead for bead. Come to think of it, my sisters’ affection for me ran way past the bounds of ordinary family ties. Was that okay? We were still family, after all.

“Brother, why are you spacing out? Eat,” she urged, like a bell calling me back to temple.

“Oh, right.” I returned to the present. Better not overthink it. Being loved beats being despised. Most of all, being together and happy—that’s enough.

I watched Lingsaki’s smile, sweet and unguarded as a blossom in sun, and tucked the moment into my chest. Then my thoughts drifted, a leaf on a stream, to Hill still asleep. I wanted, more than ever, to clear the Nine Cold Labyrinth and bring back the Ice Dream Lotus to heal her.

...