Early the next morning, Little Loli curled into a dumpling under the quilt. Grandfather Sun had already laid a warm palm on her fair cheek.

“Ow, that’s blinding.” She raised a hand to shield the prickle of light, like a small fan chasing away sparks.

By habit she turned her head; the clock on the nightstand glowed 7:30, digits like green fireflies pinned in a glass box.

“Good, I didn’t oversleep,” she breathed, relief settling like a warm stone. She sat on the bed, dazed, her thoughts drifting like mist over still water.

From outside came her mom’s shout, bright as a bell: “Xiaoxue, up, up—Grandfather Sun’s going to tan your backside!”

“Okay, got it!” Half awake, Little Loli crawled from bed like a zombie and shuffled toward the bathroom, feet dragging like sleepy clouds.

While brushing her teeth, the words snagged in her mind like burrs: “The sun’s tanning my butt?”

“I did get sun on my face, but… could it be…”

When the thought clicked, resignation drew dark lines across her brow; after washing up, she plopped at the table like a dropped feather.

Her dad sat nearby with his newspaper, rustling pages like mild wind through leaves.

“Xiaoxue, what’s wrong? Didn’t sleep well?” Her mother’s words drifted out like kitchen steam.

Mrs. Xiao came out of the kitchen with a plate of fried eggs, steam curling like little suns.

“Nothing, just a bit off,” she said, the words falling like dull pebbles. Little Loli ate on autopilot, a wind‑up doll spooning breakfast into a quiet mouth.

One egg, one slice of bread, and milk like a pale river—done. She returned to her room without another word.

“What’s up with our daughter?” Mrs. Xiao asked, worry tugging like a thread.

Mr. Xiao flipped a page, the paper whispering like reeds. “Her spirits aren’t great.”

“After such an ordeal, no one would feel fine—least of all my girl.”

“Let’s hope so,” she murmured, worry skimming her eyes like a thin cloud; she glanced toward Xiaoxue’s room, then turned back to the kitchen.

Back in her room, Little Loli drooped before the vanity, mood foggy as a rainy morning. “School again. So annoying…” She sighed, the sound light as drifting ash.

For her, classes were kindergarten puzzles to a middle‑school mind—easy as chalk dust, boring as stale bread.

“Uniform, where’s my uniform…” Her voice thinned like a thread. She blinked, then remembered: that poor thing was torn to tatters and scattered in the forest like fallen leaves.

“Right, it got shredded,” she muttered, the thought crumbling like old paper. She tapped her forehead, a light smack like a sparrow peck. “Guess I’m wearing something else today.”

She swung open the wardrobe; hangers chimed softly like thin metal birds.

Soon the mirror held a new look: a loose white T‑shirt with a black Mickey, blue jeans hugging slender legs, and a cute side ponytail.

Energy danced in the lines, sweetness in the tilt—though, was this really a school outfit?

She slung on her backpack and rocketed toward the Benz at the door, sneakers tapping the ground like quick rain.

In the front seat, her dad turned to check on her; seeing the outfit, he pinched his brow like a man with a sudden headache. “Kiddo… are you really going to school dressed like that?” His tone was dry as sand.

“Of course. Anything wrong with it, dear Dad?” Her words sparkled like sugar. Little Loli tilted her head and squinted, ponytail draped over her shoulder like a playful ribbon.

“Forget it. We’re running late.” Time nipped at their heels like a little dog. He checked his watch; the Benz leapt forward like a steel horse chasing the road.

On the way, her dad kept his voice gentle, a warm bar across the chill.

“Xiaoxue, you skipped school a few days. I told your teacher it was sick leave.” His words slid like an oar through water.

“This stuff is hard to explain. Back yesterday, school today—thanks for pushing through.” The mess clung like smoke.

“It’s fine. It’s just school,” she said, voice level as still water. Little Loli fussed with her ponytail, fingers flicking like dragonflies. “I know my own state.” Confidence sat on her words like a perched bird.

“And those red eyes? How come they’re gone today?” he asked, curiosity pricking like a pin.

“They only show when the moon comes out.” Her voice was soft and sticky, like rice syrup. “Don’t worry about it, Dad.”

Soon they reached the school gate, the building looming like a gray cliff. Students were few, scattered like seeds on dry soil.

He glanced at the car clock; digits ticked like marching ants. “Almost eight‑thirty. Hurry, or you’ll be late.”

“Got it. Pick me up on time this afternoon.”

She popped the door, hopped out, and tossed him a warm smile like sunlight on tea; then she sprinted and vanished, a streak.

Mr. Xiao shook his head with a wry smile, thoughts clattering like pebbles. First the red eyes, now that eerie speed.

“What’s happening to this kid?” The Benz rolled away, carrying the question like a stone in its pocket.

Little Loli’s pace blurred; if you didn’t watch closely, you’d see only a slip of shadow.

After a dozen seconds, she stopped at the stairwell not far from her classroom, breath steady as a quiet drum.

“Tch. Still annoying overall… Whatever, I’m here.” Her tongue clicked like a pebble as she stepped into the room.

Inside, some students chatted like sparrows, others copied homework like ants ferrying crumbs.

Just then, a flawless figure crossed the threshold; everyone paused, heads turning to the door like sunflowers to light.

“Tch, again.” With eyes on her like needles, Little Loli lowered her head and walked to the last row.

Among a flock of black uniforms, her big white tee was a lone cloud among crows.

She sat and began to toy with her phone, fingertips tapping like rain.

“So cute, I can’t take it.” A girl gushed to another, voice bubbling like soda.

“Wearing that to school? No sense of rules.” Another sigh cut like a thin blade.

“Two days without seeing her, and—” Murmurs swelled, a low tide around Little Loli.

“You’ve gotten even cuter after a few days, Xiaoxue.” A cheerful voice floated from behind—Joanna.

“Nana, you’re here.” Little Loli turned and smiled; the brown‑haired short‑cut girl beamed back, eyes curving like crescents.

At that moment, someone walked in from the corridor, footsteps falling like beads.

“Ou Xiangyang!” Little Loli’s heart clenched, teeth grinding; the name flashed in her mind like a thorn.