“Nalu, your house is so tiny! Can anyone live in something that small?”

After we saw the courtyard below, Lanxia blurted it out, like wind cutting across a pond. Compared to the mountain-tall builds of Moonhundred City, Nalu’s place looked small and weathered, like a sparrow’s nest under eaves.

It wasn’t unlivable, just modest. Next to Lanxia’s huge frame, it shrank like a shadow at dusk.

We landed in front of Nalu’s gate, dust blooming like pale smoke. Up close, the courtyard felt small yet meticulous, a bonsai pruned with care.

Size wasn’t the point; the trim and design were artful, like frost patterns on glass. Faint signs of renovation showed through, like fresh paint over old grain.

It wasn’t born this way. It must’ve been rebuilt after they were forced here, a warehouse reborn like moss on stone.

“If you don’t mind, please come in and sit…” Nalu climbed down from Lanxia’s back, cheeks pink like dawn on snow.

“We’ll do our best to host you,” Yafina said, bowing deep, like a reed in strong wind.

“Dear big brother, let’s go rest, okay? We’ve spent days on the road, like boats in steady rain.”

“Nalu, this courtyard’s quite nice. No need to feel small,” my sisters said, accepting Nalu and Yafina’s invite like leaves accepting dew.

“Yeah, a break will do us good. We can map our route after, step by careful step. Lixue?”

I wanted rest too; the thought softened my ribs like warm tea.

“No objections,” Lixue said, voice calm as still water.

“My dragon belly’s empty. Nalu, got anything to eat?” Lanxia had shifted to human shape, rubbing her stomach like a child guarding a stove.

“We’re not sure what’s left inside. But we’ll try our best to meet every request,” master and maid spoke together, words aligned like twin lamps.

So we planned to rest at Nalu’s place, and decide where to head next, like pins on a night map.

Just then, creak—the old wooden gate swung, scent of resin like rain on timber. Out stepped a beautiful matron who resembled Nalu, a soft echo in the face.

She held a three- or four-year-old girl, cute as a plum blossom in mitten hands. Her eyes widened like lamps just lit.

“That noise was huge—who’s here… huh? Nalu, Yafina!”

She hurried over, worry drawing lines like ink. “Nalu, honestly! How could you sneak into the old master’s former lands to hunt tiancao herb? It’s chaos there since he died—what if something happened? And… these guests are?”

“Mom, they saved me and Yafina,” Nalu said, bright as a bell. “They’re our honored guests today.”

Nalu told her everything after we met, words laid out like stepping stones. Then she turned to us. “Sorry I didn’t explain first. This is my mother, Nanae Geyas. Only my mom stays home now. Since the Geyas Family declined, my father and other kin go out to trade all the time. They’re seldom home.”

“I see. Your family’s had it rough,” I said, the house feeling emptier, like a lamp with one wick.

Only women and a child at the gate—if trouble came, there’d be no strong arms, just stubborn hearts.

“Uh, Mizumi… you’re from the Mizumi Clan?!” Nanae froze, shock sparking like flint.

“Yes,” I said, a nod steady as a stake.

“Nalu said you dislike flowery words, so I’ll keep it plain. Our Geyas Family owes you a life-debt, remembered to the grave.” Nanae bowed again, gratitude heavy as rain.

“Mom, save it for later. Making Mizumi and the others wait at the door is rude!” Nalu tugged her sleeve, urgency bright as a chime.

“You’re right.” Nanae gave us a sheepish smile, like sun through cloud. “Forgive me. Please, come in if you don’t mind our humble home. Yafina and I will prepare hot water and delicious dishes right away. We stocked some high-grade ingredients this week.”

“High-grade ingredients? I want them!” Lanxia lit up like a festival lantern, appetite roaring like a hearth.

She really was like Hill—an honest eater, mind as straightforward as a clear stream.

“Hey, Lanxia, you silly dragon, you’re drooling! Wipe it off, that’s embarrassing,” my sisters teased, laughter like bells.

“I’m Dragon Kin, you know,” she muttered, dabbing her lips, pitiful as a wet kitten.

“I’ve been your mount for days, and barely ate,” she said, clutching her stomach, empty as a drum.

“Alright.” I sighed and ruffled her hair, palm warm as a small fire. “Be good. I’ll cook you something.”

“Food cooked by you, Mizumi? I’m so happy!” Lanxia’s smile bloomed, soft as spring after snow.

…