“Xiaoxue, we’re going to the party tomorrow. Mom’s going to dress you up, like polishing a little moon.”

Her mom was past thirty, but her skin was spring-peach smooth, as if time flowed past without a ripple.

“...” Little Loli tuned her mom out, like turning down a radio full of crackle.

Sunday came like a stone skipping once and sinking.

Little Loli got pressed into a vanity chair at dawn, her eyelids heavy as mist.

“Hey, hey! I don’t want this stuff!” She was hauled from bed like a drowsy cat and set before the mirror.

“Don’t move, Xiaoxue. I’ll make you pretty,” Mom beamed, eyes bright as stars, makeup box opening like a lacquered shell.

“Such pretty eyes. Let me paint them, like tracing light on a lake.”

“No! Don’t draw on my eyes, like I’m a paper doll!”

“How about a touch of lipstick, like a cherry petal?”

“No way. Lipstick is absolutely banned, like a red flag.”

So Little Loli met her first makeup, like stepping into thin rain.

Under stubborn resistance, Mom settled for a light touch and a soft wash of shadow.

“You actually… did this to me…” Her golden eyes welled like amber about to spill, as Mom tugged her into the dressing room.

After a rustle of fabric, Mom admired her work, pleased as a gardener after bloom.

“As expected of my daughter. Beautiful from any angle, like a fresh dawn.”

She wore a white lace short-sleeved dress, its hem grazing just above her knees, like snow over green.

Beige arm sleeves wrapped her pale forearms, palm to elbow, like silk reeds along a stream.

Her perfect legs rose into white over-knee bubble socks, creating a neat high-low line, like hills and valley.

From afar it was simple; up close, a glimpse of skin between sock and skirt glowed like warm milk.

A yellow bow knotted at her chest, bright as a butterfly at rest.

Her golden hair became twin tails, high and buoyant, like two sunlit streams.

Two thin strands fell by her cheeks, filaments of gold like spider silk.

Go see your friends, and they dress me like a festival lantern, she wanted to gripe, tongue sharp as frost.

Her dad sat at the door with a newspaper, eyes fixed on the room like a cat at a crack.

He thought of the last dance night, memory rising like music under dust.

The door swung open with a hush like a fan.

Here she comes, he thought, heartbeat tapping like rain on eaves.

Little Loli stepped out.

The sleeves pinched a bit, snug as ivy, yet the look pleased her like a mirror kissed by light.

She stretched both arms, watching the fabric shine, like watching water threads tighten.

She lifted her gaze and caught Dad’s eyes glued to her, brazen as summer sun.

“Tsk.” She was used to it, yet annoyance prickled like thorns.

Her small fists clenched, two pebbles under silk.

“How is it, Dad? Is your jaw about to drop like a ripe pear?” Mom swept out in white, snow beside snow.

Different hair colors, yet they looked like sisters, like twin lilies on one pond.

“Yeah, yeah, our daughter’s too beautiful,” Dad nodded fast, head bobbing like a sparrow.

“Mm?” Mom’s look turned sharp as a needle, catching what he’d left unsaid.

“Of course, my wife is beautiful too,” he added, smile thin as ice.

“Go get the car,” she said, voice soft as cotton yet firm as bamboo.

The Mercedes carried the three of them to a grand hotel, rolling like a black whale.

Dad dropped them at the door, and the two walked in under chandeliers like crystal rain.

Heads turned along the way, stares falling like petals, most landing on the blonde Little Loli, today cute as a sugared fruit.

“Hey, isn’t this Qianqian? You’re still so young, like water that won’t age,” a woman in her thirties hurried over, voice warm as tea.

“Oh, you flatter me,” Mom laughed, smile curving like a crescent.

Little Loli scanned the room with a quick sweep, like a swallow over a courtyard.

Seven or eight women clustered, probably Mom’s friends, chattering like sparrows.

On one side, a bunch of middle-school boys and girls gathered, restless as spring grass.

“Qianqian, is this your daughter?” The women swarmed like bees finding a flower.

“Your daughter is too pretty!” Their praise rang like silver bells.

“Of course. I gave birth to her,” Mom glowed, chest light as a lantern.

The commotion tugged at the teens like a tide pulls driftwood.

“What’s up over there?” they said, curiosity buzzing like summer cicadas.

Then their eyes landed on Little Loli.

“Wow, who’s that girl?” “She’s stunning,” the boys breathed, stares locked like arrows.

The girls’ eyes flicked over, a mix of envy and awe, sharp as moonlit frost.

“Xiao Qianxue!” In the crowd, one girl looked at her with a different light, cold as steel.

“Good… very good. We meet again,” she hissed, teeth clenched like a trap.

“You, come with me,” she said, and five or six girls peeled off like shadows leaving a wall.

Little Loli felt a prick of hostility like a thorn under silk.

She turned toward the teens, gaze sweeping like a net, but the source slipped away like a fish.

“Look, she’s looking at me!” “Shut up, she’s looking at me!” the boys shouted, loud as kettledrums.

“Annoying monkeys,” Little Loli frowned, brows bending like willow.

She searched the crowd again, senses dulled like a blade gone soft.

“Even my perception’s been fading lately,” she thought, mind clouded like a humid window.

“Xiaoxue, go play with them. Mom’s going to chat with friends,” Mom urged, pushing her gently like a breeze moves a kite.

“Boring. I shouldn’t have agreed. Asking for trouble,” she sighed, flicking her sleeves like brushing dust.

She headed to a chair, sat like a small crane, and pulled out her phone like drawing a talisman.

If Xiao Qianxue had average looks, she could have sunk into her screen like a stone in a pond.

But she didn’t. She was a lantern in fog, impossible to ignore.

“Hi, I’m Wang Xu. Can I add your QQ?” A boy stepped up, nerves fluttering like moths.

“Eh? What’s QQ?” Little Loli tilted her head, cute mode on like a switch clicking.

“QQ… what is it?” He stared at her up close, and his brain blanked like snow.

“Who sent that idiot up there?!” the boys hissed, anger sparking like flint.

A delicate-looking girl drifted over, voice soft as rain.

“Hi, can we hang out together?”

Seeing it was a girl, Little Loli let her guard fall like a dropped fan.

“Sure,” she said, smile light as a petal.