After that, Lixue tried the remaining sets; every look fit her like moonlight finding any shore. Cute or dashing, she wore her own charm like a breeze that knows its path.
“These are good. Let’s buy these for now. Next, it’s my turn to pick clothes for you, Emperor.”
She changed back, smoothed the new outfits like arranging petals, and her satisfaction shone like warm spring light. At the thought of choosing for me, her mood lifted like a kite on a steady wind, a smile bright as fresh dawn. It was rare to see her like this, and joy welled up in me like sweet tea.
“Emperor, can I say something from the heart?”
“What’s wrong? That’s not like you. You usually say it straight.”
“I want to grab a few pieces of womenswear for you too. Is that okay?”
“…No. I don’t dislike womenswear, but I don’t want to wear it often.”
Annoyed yet fond, I pinched her soft cheek like testing a ripe peach and refused without wobble.
“Alright. I wasn’t counting on it anyway. Come on, let’s hit the menswear section.”
She swung open the fitting room door like a curtain in a breeze and tugged me out. First, she had the clerk pack everything, so we weren’t hauling bundles like geese with reeds.
The VIP section lay quiet, a broad room like an empty lake. I frowned. “Why so few guests? Price and status locks?”
“Half that, half not,” the clerk said as the paper rustled like dry leaves.
“What do you mean?”
“The highborn young ladies and young masters prefer bespoke work by famous designers instead of browsing racks. Only the top-ranked shop in Clear Sea City sees any real traffic in a VIP area. Alright, miss, your items are packed. Please keep them safe.”
She handed Lixue a paper bag as delicate as a folded crane, the clothes laid inside like layered snow.
We thanked her and drifted toward menswear like leaves riding a calm stream.
Compared to womenswear, the clothing here felt plainer, like winter bark; still, the formal wear glittered like river-lit steel. I glanced and left it for the mannequins; it wasn’t my taste.
“Mm, something for Emperor… how about this?” Lixue lifted a set from a display like plucking fruit, holding it against me with a measuring eye. “This looks good. Do you like it?”
“Looks solid. Let’s keep it.”
It was a short-sleeved white shirt with black trousers, simple at first glance like snow and ink. Look closer, and filigree patterns traced the collar, cuffs, and button line like frost lace. The color blended from gold to silver like dusk sliding into moonlight, quiet yet whole. I brushed the fabric; shirt and pants felt smooth as river stone.
“Good. Let’s find the next set.”
In the end, half an hour moved by like sand in a glass, and between her picks and mine we had five sets.
The result was predictable: Lixue pulled me into the fitting room like the tide pulls shells, insisting I change in front of her. I refused at first, but I’d just watched her change from start to finish like a pilgrim before a shrine; guilt tugged at me, and I gave in. Changing under a girl’s gaze burned like standing in noon sun; I never want a second time.
We split up to find underwear and sleepwear, so that took no time at all. The clerks packed everything, and our shopping trip settled like dusk over a courtyard.
“Thank you for visiting. Here’s your receipt. Take it if needed, and we look forward to your return.”
We walked out of Moon Garden under their polite bows like reeds bending to the wind. The receipt showed we’d spent about fifty gold coins, surprisingly cheap, like finding jade in gravel; I’d paid with a Purplegold Coin.
Back at the inn, we washed the new clothes ourselves, like rinsing river pebbles. Moon Garden offered this service, but for what we wear, we trust our own hands. With the life magic Lixue and I had mastered, washing and drying took less than a minute, quick as a snap.
“Lixue, want to stroll more, or head back for dinner and a hot spring?”
“We’ve walked enough for today. Let’s go rest while the night is soft.”
“Agreed. No time like now.”
It was about eight in the evening, lamps swelling like fireflies. Neither of us felt like more wandering, even if Seasand Town had a thousand night shows.
We cleaned and dried the new clothes, tucked them into the bracelet’s space like stowing clouds in a jar. After dinner, we asked a server to take us to the hot spring. The room had a bath, but for real ease, hot springs draw you in like a warm sea.
“Would you like separate baths or together?” the server asked, the question slipping out like a pebble into still water.
Right, normally it’s separate.
“Together. If possible, we’d like a private soak,” Lixue said, her tone calm as a lake.
Honestly, separate would be easier; together felt like holding a live ember, though I didn’t dislike the heat.
“Understood. Private is fine. At this hour, the rear mountain spring just cleared—no one’s there. It’s outdoors. Is that alright?”
“No problem. We’ll set a ward,” Lixue said, smooth as silk.
Open air sounded good. Soak in heat and watch the stars like lanterns on black water—I had no objections.
“Then please follow me.”
Ten minutes later, we reached the rear mountain. A small hut stood ahead like a quiet guardian; the spring lay behind.
“The spring is behind the hut. Inside, you’ll find full bath supplies, plus separate changing room and bathroom. I hope you both enjoy.”
“Mm.”
We thanked the server and stepped inside. The space was broad and bright, the decor neat as a scholar’s desk, and the air held a natural scent like pine and tea.
We walked out, and the spring spread before us in a large oval, its water milk-white like cloud poured into a bowl. Wisps of steam rose like gauze under starlight, faint and airy. The path around was paved in smooth stones of blue, dark green, and gray, and the edges were planted with flowers and trees like a painted border. The setting was excellent, serene as a mountain painting.
Before soaking, you wash. After setting the isolating ward like drawing a line in sand, we returned to the hut. I planned to let Lixue shower first, but she pulled me into the bathroom like ivy climbing a wall.
“Emperor, take off your clothes. Let’s wash up.”
“Eh? Shower together? That’s… not ideal.” My reason felt thin as paper in rain.
“Once we finish, we can slip into the spring together. Don’t overthink it. Whatever you do later, I won’t mind.”
“I won’t!”
“Really?”
“…I’ll try.”
“You don’t need to try. Do whatever you want. I don’t mind.”
“…”
In the end, I couldn’t refuse. We showered together, and the contact was too much, heat flooding me like summer noon. Lixue wanted to wash each other’s hair and scrub each other’s backs, gentle as rain on bamboo—sweet and perilous for my composure.
