To stir more memory up from the silt and give Yekase a chance to observe more of the Twenty Second Squad, Ling Nuo Si proposed a pilgrimage to a few key battlefields from the One-Year War, like walking old shorelines where the tide once roared.

The war had been massive, a wildfire that ate horizons; even within Twin Towers City alone, two ruins still lay like scars that never scabbed.

In the rewritten history, both sites got filed as gas explosions or sudden fires, neat stamps on messy graves; some nameless discord at the city’s core kept every organization from rebuilding, so they rotted in place like open wounds in a glittering body.

That, at least, made things easier for Yekase and Ling Nuo Si, like finding hidden springs along a dry trail.

On the last morning of August, dawn barely a pale wash, they got off the bus and slipped through twisting backstreets, a snake of alleys leading into shade.

A small ornamental pond opened before them, a mirror cracked by time; beneath the water, the skeletons of buildings lay sunken like drowned houses.

“There used to be a temple here,” Ling Nuo Si said, his voice low as incense smoke. “It was destroyed in the fight. One of our key comrades—the ‘Gunheart’ of the ‘Lily Gun-and-Blade’ duo, Elena, pilot of the mech ‘Sunday Descent’—fell here like a star going dark.”

Yekase frowned, fishing in a black lake of memory; no ripples came back, only stillness.

By rights, if she’d met a mech pilot, she should at least remember the face, like a banner in the wind.

“Anything else?” Her question landed light as a leaf.

“Her wife, Wendy, piloted ‘Monday Revelation,’” he said, each name a bell struck in fog. “After this battle she stepped back, took disciples, and founded the hero organization ‘Lily Sword,’ like planting lilies along a grave.”

Yekase shook her head, a small rain.

“Nothing. And anyone who died before the final battle—even if I remember, it changes nothing. ‘Lily Sword’ did carry on, like a lamp kept trimmed.”

“I see…” His answer drifted like a sigh.

Because he’d dragged himself back from the void, he’d expected too much; cooling down, Ling Nuo Si knew the world rarely offers peaches on bare branches.

“…I’ll walk around,” he said, a wave pulling back. “Want a drink?”

“Passionfruit double-shot, full sugar, no ice.” The order popped out like a spell tossed at a street altar.

“Uh? …Oh, oh.” Ling Nuo Si blinked and wandered off, like a cloud losing shape.

Yekase watched the pond a long time, eyes still as a winter lake, then closed them and offered two minutes of silence—she remembered nothing of Elena, but that didn’t dim the woman’s hero’s fire.

Right when the air turned solemn as a bell at dusk, her phone rang, a sparrow bursting from a branch.

“…Hello?”

Unknown number; she took it anyway, like stepping into thin mist.

“Hello, is this student Yekase?”

…

Hm?

Student? “Student Yekase”?

A bad hunch flashed through her like cold lightning. At this hour, anyone calling her that could only be from one place—

“I’m your new homeroom teacher,” the voice said, warm and familiar as an old song.

Add two and two.

Yekase dropped the math and quit thinking.

“My name is Liu RuoYuan. You can call me Ms. Liu.” The name landed like a stone in a quiet pool.

…Ha.

It really is you.

And who is Liu RuoYuan? She was Yekase’s biological little sister, a thread knotted to her past.

“Student Yekase, I’m sure you know this,” she said, soft but firm as rain on tiles. “Last school year you set Heavenly Heart High School’s record for the longest truancy—meaning you never came at all.”

“Mm.” The syllable was flat as a skipping stone.

“So the Academic Office decided you’ll repeat a year and continue in second-year,” she said, neat as a stamped seal.

“Oh…” The sound drifted like smoke. So what? She wasn’t planning to go anyway, like a cat ignoring a leash.

If anything, that gave her one more reason not to show up, a straw on a loaded cart.

“Before school starts, I’d like to speak with your parents,” she said, polite as tea offered. “Do they have time?”

“Uh, they’re not in Twin Towers City…” Panic pricked her like nettles. Her little sister becoming her homeroom teacher was a small, sour joke; asking to meet the parents—why not just walk home and ask Mom and Dad yourself?

“You live alone?” The question was gentle, a lantern lifted.

“Uh, yes.” The answer was a cough of wind.

Wait. So little sis graduated from the teachers college and chased Yekase’s footprints to Twin Towers City? If she wanted so badly to see the brother who vanished nearly ten years, why not call the old number? Not that Yekase wanted that call either; some doors are best left as bricked arches.

“Well then… I’ll come see you at your place,” she said, cheerful as a spring knock.

Please don’t!

Yekase swayed, the world tilting like a boat.

Her rental was piled with industrial raw materials no high-schooler should touch, cans of Flash Energy and Omega Ray glowing with suspicious halos, and prototypes that might go feral without warning; now there were even two bargain tenants. No way could she let her new homeroom teacher see that—an abyss yawning under a floorboard.

Worse—

Her two sets of bedding had been slept on since her freshman year of college, ten winters and summers without change, like flags never taken down.

And those two sets? Handpicked by thirteen-year-old Liu RuoYuan for her big brother: one with little bears, one with cow spots, childish constellations on cheap cloth.

They were also the only two objects that ever earned a kind word from Ling Yi, like rare stamps in a harsh ledger.

If little sis really did a home visit—even if Yekase hid them first—one question like, “So you sleep on the floor with just a mat?” would burst the dam; then her sense of duty would flare and she’d want to check if the quilts were washed often (answer: no), and everything would be over, like a curtain torn down.

Who’d have thought big bro spent six years fighting in the big city, didn’t win a house or a car, and hammered himself into a little lady instead—

A twenty-seven-year-old man turning into a woman—way too freakish—she could almost see Liu RuoYuan’s now-beautiful face twist in disdain, a thunderhead lowering to shadow her, looking down on Yekase, who now stood a head shorter—

Don’t let that happen!

“—Student Yekase? Are you listening?” The voice cut in like a bell.

“Yes, yes.” Her reply tumbled like pebbles.

“…Sigh, I’ll repeat,” she said, patient as a schoolyard tree. “Because your entrance exam scores were perfect in every subject except the essay, the Academic Office decided to give you a chance. As long as you show up on time every day from now on, your repeating a year won’t be entered into your file.”

Entrance exam? Oh. Those numbers were something Yekase asked a hacker friend to mock up, a paper tiger. That jerk had been lazy and just copy-pasted a full set of 100s, like stickers slapped on a window!

“Mm, mm… If I do show up on time, could you… not come for a home visit?” she asked, voice careful as someone tiptoeing over ice.

“The moment you say that, I want to go even more,” she said, smile audible, a cat flicking its tail.

Classic reverse psychology.

“Four p.m. this afternoon. You don’t have plans, right? Wait for me at home,” she said, like pinning a note to a door.

“What if I do have plans…” Yekase tried, a leaf against wind.

“Then I’ll wait at your door until you’re done,” she said, immovable as a milestone.

“Uh…” The syllable sagged.

“Alright then. That’s that. Goodbye,” she said, crisp as scissors.

…

…

I’m cooked.

Phone in hand, Yekase froze mid-air like a struck bird, mind blank white.

…A home visit. By her sister.

Last year’s discount homeroom teacher never managed a single word to her; but Liu RuoYuan had always been the cling-till-it’s-done type, like ivy that finds a crack. At ten she wanted the complete set of The Mole’s Stories and harried their parents for two months straight until, exhausted, they bought the discs.

Add three fires for a new official, and you could see it: she’d hound Yekase until she trotted obediently to school, like rain wearing down stone.

If Yekase kept playing dead, there’d be more “individual sessions,” deeper and more private—each one multiplying the risk of exposure like mushrooms after rain.

…

Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad.

Looks like she had to go to school.

And right now, she had to sprint home and clean up, clear anything Liu RuoYuan shouldn’t see like sweeping footprints before dawn.

Pulse fluttering, Yekase spun and ran for the alley mouth; just before the main street, she plowed straight into Ling Nuo Si returning with the drinks, a soft collision like two kites crossing strings.

“What’s wrong? Why the sudden rush?” His eyes narrowed, alert as a hawk.

“Someone’s coming to my place this afternoon,” Yekase said, feet stamping in place like a runner at the line. “I’ve got to clean up! I’ll text you tonight!”

She snatched her milk tea and shot off like an arrow.

“Who is it, to make you look like a siege is coming…” Ling Nuo Si’s question fluttered behind her like a loose ribbon. She was already sprinting for the bus stop, retracing their route home.

Zhang Wendao was still dead asleep, a lump like a buried boulder.

“Wake up! We’ve got a problem!” Her voice cracked like a whip.

“Uh? Huh? What happened? Enemy attack?” He jerked upright, eyes wide as moons.

“Close enough to an enemy attack!” The words clattered like armor.

She hauled him up and propped him against the wall, then began scooping the floor and table clean like a tide pulling junk from a beach.

Thanks to Ling Yi’s cleanup half a month ago, the place wasn’t hopeless; though chaos had crept back like vines, the foundation was there. Pile like with like, and order returned fast as a swept path.

“Why the sudden deep clean…?” he asked, baffled, scratching his head like a puzzled bear.

“My homeroom teacher’s coming for a home visit at four,” she said, hands flying like sparrows. “Do me a favor and head out with Ling Nuo Si then.”

“Home visit?” Zhang Wendao echoed, suspicion sprouting like weeds. “You still go to school? You, the great inventor, need school?”

“I’m nominally enrolled,” she said, dry as tinder. “New homeroom teacher just took over and wants early wins. And I do need somewhere like a school, a place where trouble won’t come looking.”

She couldn’t say, “She’s my actual little sister, and I have to keep her from getting suspicious,” so she let that truth stay under the floorboards.

And honestly, being at school would be safer, like hiding under a temple eave during a storm.

For lone wolves, you never know if robbing a school will splash against some big shot’s kid; for organizations, raiding schools brings no profit and hands enemies a banner. That vine-beast incident was a fluke; later, Yekase saw on the news that the group who bred it got wrecked that night by neighboring crews, a bonfire on rotten wood.

And it was just “going to school.” She only needed to exist there; no one said she had to listen. Sleep debt from night runs? Pay it back in the day, like cats do in sunlight.

“…If anything happens in daylight, I’m leaving it to you and Ling Nuo Si,” she said, passing the baton like a stick in a relay.

“Count on us,” he said, chin lifting like a flag.

Ten-odd minutes later, Ling Nuo Si came back on the next bus. At the entryway he shifted and stepped inside, grumbling that she didn’t wait, but his hands moved on their own, cleaning like water finding its course.

“So, so fast!” Yekase stared, startled as a deer.

He worked with both hands doing different tasks: scooping scattered sketches while, from all angles, he flicked torn wrappers into the trash with sniper precision; it went smooth as a well-oiled machine, efficiency like two people in one body, leaving Yekase dumbstruck.

“Done.” The single word fell like a gavel, echoing in the small room.

Ling Nuo Si stood in the now-open rental, his silhouette like a king taking a quiet throne.

“You… this…” Yekase gaped at a place cleaner than when they first moved in, eyes shining like polished glass.

“This is big bro’s housekeeping game!” he declared, chest out like a rooster.

“People just watching from the side, hush,” she snapped, but a smile tugged like sunlight at the edge of a storm.