Shen Shanshan looked startled, like a deer in morning mist, at Yekase’s blunt vow of equality, but she still ferried her back to school like a leaf on a stream.

Yekase didn’t return to class. She headed straight for the tech building, to the Bird Research Club’s room. The last period wasn’t over; the door sat locked like a closed shell.

She had her way around shells.

Specifically: she went in through the window like a cat slipping through moonlight.

Yesterday she’d noticed it—Minister Wang Ping loved keeping the windows pried wide, open like gills. He didn’t fear a bird escaping while he toyed with it in his hands. Maybe that’s the pride of a keeper.

Today was the same. With the windows yawning like that, what’s the point of a lock?

She braced one hand on the sill and rolled inside like a breeze.

“Morning, folks.”

She greeted the birds with a smile, calm as a pond.

A jet-black myna cocked its head like a little judge, then barked, “Woof! Woof! Woof!”

—Huh?!

Why a dog’s bark in a house of feathers?

Before Yekase’s mind settled, the parrot at her elbow exploded into a shriek: “Eeeee—!!”

The pitch drilled like ice needles; the volume swelled like a siren; her eardrums clenched and ached with it.

“D’ya mother! D’ya mother!”

The budgie v3 from yesterday rolled out its signature curse, and the bird brothers surged behind it, a compact tsunami of cussing.

Lively as a festival… Wang Ping really was a talent in a flock.

Yekase picked a little stool, sat, and pulled out a notebook, her mood steady as rain on tiles.

What was she writing? Her theory of tools.

Full name: “Ancient Alchemy Light-Weight Toolkit.” The idea was to game the rules, slip past the gate of memorizing runes, like water finding a crack.

Sandryon had said arrays must be drawn fast, and with deep focus, like calligraphy under a monk’s bell. For Yekase, that wasn’t “better, faster.” It was “hit bare minimum.”

She had to test how fast and how focused to get a baseline success, like measuring wind by the bend of grass.

Or flip it another way: if the array isn’t drawn by the caster’s own hand, what then? Speed has a ruler; does focus have bias, like fog over a mirror?

Array materials had no strict rules. She fished a pen from her pocket, and in the notebook she tried sketching the newbie alchemy circle, lines like reeds crossing water.

This initial array does… glow and spin. It tells you if it fired, a lantern and a pinwheel. Nothing else.

A practice piece for apprentices, a first step on river stones.

It even had a name: [hello world-1]. Close enough; a wave from a newborn program.

Yekase slowed on purpose, like dragging a brush through thick ink. She paused to check the scroll, to swipe her phone, to tease a bird, then finished in fits and starts, a dotted line of attention.

Inject magic—

...

No light, no sound. No spin. A still pond.

As expected. She flipped the page and started again at once, pulse steady.

With fresh muscle memory, her hand moved faster, like a sparrow’s dart… then she stopped one stroke shy, stood to stretch like a cat, sat again, and finished.

…Failed. A dark lamp.

Speed was likely fine. So it’s a focus problem, like sand slipping through fingers.

Even just thinking “stand up a sec” breaks it? That’s harsh as winter. Were Ancient Alchemists stone-set monks? How did this finicky art breathe on a stormy battlefield?

Light-weight modification has a long road, like a mountain path in fog.

She sighed, stashed notebook and scroll, mind settling like dusk. First priority stayed the “memory wipe” anomaly—there’s a timer ticking like a kettle.

The hallway swelled noisy, a tide of voices—school was out.

Yekase didn’t want to show off in front of people she barely knew. She slid out of the clubroom and leaned by the wall, quiet as shadow. Soon, Wang Ping came with light steps, like a sparrow hopping.

“Oh, y-you came for the club activity.”

He looked nervous, shoulders tight as strings.

“Did I interrupt your date with the birds? I just don’t have much going on this week. Once my project starts, I won’t drop by as much.”

“No, no, welcome… What kind of club turns away new members?” Wang Ping shook his head and opened the door, the lock clicking like a pebble. “But don’t force yourself. Lots promised to come daily, then vanished after a few days. I’m used to it.”

“Haha…”

Yesterday she’d watched the program, not the person. He’d seemed easygoing, like tea cooling on a windowsill. He did have thoughts about the club’s state.

A mature kid who can rein in temper and quirks, letting hobby and reality share a table. He kept proper distance with girls, too. Maybe he valued work over romance. A good trait, steady as an old pine.

…Oops. That sounded like an old aunt again.

Anyway, Yekase liked people who “have something they want to do.” She wanted plain friendship, swapping tricks in their crafts—bird-keeping’s a craft too, an artisan with feathers.

Wang Ping reintroduced the club. “We mostly raise and train birds. These little tyrants have picky tempers. New hands can’t jump in easily… Number One, say something.”

“I’m a crow! I’m a crow!”

“—You’re a myna!”

He yelled, composure cracking like thin ice.

“Sigh… Sorry to make you laugh.”

“It’s fine, it’s fun!”

Yekase soothed him, voice warm as a brazier. “I’ve always wondered—mynas and parrots remember many phrases, but they don’t know meaning. When we tease them, is what they say pure random?”

“Mostly random, but you can guide it with keywords.”

Wang Ping explained, tried a demo, but the mynas nearby stayed serene, like monks on a ledge. His morale slumped.

“Keywords, huh…”

“Yeah. ‘Good morning’ and the like. Through fixed practice, make the keyword and lines form a causal chain. Add rewards, and birds train like cats or dogs.”

“You said visitors taught them weird lines? Can they learn fast?”

“They pick it up fast! They just won’t listen to me!”

Wang Ping slid a finger through cage bars, tried to poke Number One like a disappointed dad. He got pecked, hissed, and pulled back, shaking his hand like a fish flicking water.

“Then…”

A flash crossed Yekase’s mind like lightning under a storm cloud.

“If we teach different birds different words… then use one keyword to cue them all—can we chain a sentence?”

“Sounds possible, but isn’t the difficulty high? Even my birds…”

“—Everyone, speak!”

“Woof woof woof!” “Eeee—!” “I’m a crow! I’m a myna!” “Ji! Ji!” “D’ya mother!” “Burn your dreams!” “Moron! Moron!” “Kill kill kill kill kill kill!”

Hmm.

Variance too high, like dice in a cup. Hiding clues here seems unlikely. Yekase shook her head inside, calm as a lake.

Today’s puzzle progress lagged behind yesterday. A prickle of impatience rose like ants.

Maybe she’d spent too long on guns and Alchemy… After school, ask Ling Yi what she’s found.

“Next line!”

“Good morning! Good noon!” “White sun on the hills—done!” “Cheee—mm-mm—” “Good night, good night.” “Paper! Rock, paper, scissors!” “The dean! is! bald!”

Another chorus rose and fell like a flock lifting and settling.

…You can even change the frequency, like tuning a radio.

To outsider eyes, it was impressive, a circus of feathers.

“Right, I’ve listened long enough. I should contribute too.” Yekase remembered something and fished out a gadget from her bag, metal glinting like goldfish scales.

“Huh? What’s that?”

A fist-sized mechanical bird, all gold. It stood on her palm and tilted its head, curious as a child.

“N-604 Ironbeast Bird. I invented it.”

“Y-you invented it?!”

Wang Ping didn’t dare take it, fingers hovering like dragonflies. Yekase thought he was shy; he was just afraid to break it. She grabbed an empty cage, pulled out the perch, and set the Ironbeast Bird on it, the little thing balancing like a dancer.

“It’s just a toy. Not much function. It chirps sometimes, its eyes track movement a bit, and it can do low circling flights. Battery-powered.”

“This is… so delicate, and it looks alive—like a real bird…”

Oh. A keeper’s approval. Looks and spirit passed.

It was a prototype, performance still in the forge. Future models would go to the Ling sisters, one each. Shen Shanshan too. Sandryon? No. She’d laugh at something this low-tech. Totally would.

“It’s yours.”

“Really?”

“Take it. Charge it at home.”

“Sniff… It’s the world’s first bird that obeys me… Such grace. Wang will never repay…”

…Kinda tragic. Pretend you didn’t hear.

Encouraged, Wang Ping kept trying to train his pets, patient as rain. Yekase sprawled on a lazy sofa in the corner, passing time till the bell, floating like a cloud.

“I’m heading out.”

“Mm. Take care.”

Next stop: meet Ling Yi at the little observatory, a nest of stars.

With no club activity, Ling Yi had been waiting in the room, quiet as moonlight. Minutes after Yekase sat, Ling Ya finished swim club and slipped in through the side door like a wet sparrow.

“I told Ya-ya. She’s helping too.”

“Leaf-sis trusts my airheaded sister over me? That hurts…”

“You call me airheaded to my face. That hurts me too…”

They drooped together like wilted flowers. No idea why.

Yekase reported her off-campus findings—skipping the shooting range detour—and tossed in bird-club tales, making them laugh like chimes. Ling Yi shared two or three bug locations she’d found at school.

“How’s it look?”

“Bird Club is suspicious,” Ling Ya said, eyes sharp as a hawk.

“I agree. Too unnatural,” Ling Yi echoed, voice cool as glass.

“Go on.”

“For one, birds that ignore their owner… Do birds usually have that high IQ? It feels staged, like trained to look that way to outsiders.”

“Don’t underestimate birds. But yeah, suspicious.”

Ling Yi added, “Wang Ping’s in the class next to mine. In class he’s Mr. Smooth. I feel like he has schemes.”

“…Uh, that’s bias.”

“That smiley face is suspicious!”

“That’s just a personal vibe!”

“Also, we visited the club two days ago, but we can’t recall what we did. That ‘can’t recall’ feels weird, like fog erased a path.”

“Then we definitely need to check.”

Yekase hummed low, a string plucked. Ling Yi’s clue had weight. Against an unseen enemy, fuzziness in awareness needed extra care, like walking in mist with a lantern.

“I don’t trust that minister. Can we wait till he goes home, then sneak into the clubroom to investigate?”

“We can, sure...” The words drifted out like a leaf skimming still water.

They’d just shaken hands, and in the next breath were shadowing him as a suspect—awkward as grit in the teeth.

Still, Yekase wasn’t one to fuss over dust on the blade; she agreed to Ling Yi’s plan.

She felt the wind turn beneath low clouds; a turning point was near.