Back home, Yekase copied Ling Yi’s homework, pen scraping like a cricket in the dusk.

She finished English, then math, the numbers lining up like ants. Her phone rang, a firefly blinking in her palm.

It was Sandryon. Shock popped like a soap bubble.

“How’d you get my number?” Her voice jumped like a cat on a hot tile.

“I asked Xiaoyuan.” Sandryon’s lazy drawl slid through the speaker like warm smoke.

“You’ve got reach. Even got her on the line. Thinking of joining our organization?” Her tone flicked like a fan in summer.

“Nope, nope…” The word felt like a shutter slamming against wind.

From Xiaoyuan’s throwaway hints, Yekase had smelled how broke Eternal Green Pages was, like a cupboard echoing. Only Xiaoyuan could fight, and she moonlighted as a test subject to keep the lantern lit. That told you what kind of “nobles” these alchemists were.

Join that place, and she’d be squeezed dry like sugarcane.

The word “exploitation” poked old scars like thorns. Hearing Sandryon angle the hook, she jerked away like a fish from a net.

“Cut the fluff. Why’d you call?” Her patience was a lake hit by stones.

“That’s how you talk to your master?” Her voice tapped the line like rain on bamboo.

“Uh, you want me to kowtow over the phone?”

“Not bantering with you.”

Weren’t you the one who started? The thought buzzed like a trapped gnat as Sandryon went on.

“Tomorrow night, the Huaxia Alchemy Association’s holding a top-tier symposium in Shangyin City. Of course I’m invited. There’s a banquet and a dance during the intermission, so attendees must bring a companion or apprentice.”

“Oh. So you came to me? I’m busy tomorrow night. Don’t you have other friends?” Her jab curved like a thrown pebble.

“…”

“Not even one friend?”

“You busy tomorrow for something urgent?” Her tone shifted like a cloud hiding the moon.

“Nice deflection!”

“Anyway, you’re coming. Don’t fret about manners. These people don’t care for frills. Meet a few alchemists. It’ll help your research.” Her words beckoned like lanterns on a river.

“Uh, isn’t having you there enough?”

“That’s the first honest thing you’ve said.” Amusement rippled like heat across stone.

“The symposium’s also where the recluses show their work. Your modular mechanical alchemy has huge potential. File the patent and win us some face. I’ll vouch for you with the conservatives.” Her confidence rang like bronze.

…Did you contribute anything to the research? A 450-coin scroll? And you want second author? And weren’t you the most “conservative” at the first demo? The gripes boiled like a kettle.

Yekase swallowed the rant like bitter tea and let a softer barb out. “F you.”

“Why’re you swearing?” The surprise flickered like a moth.

“What do you think?!” Sparks flew off the words like flint.

Sandryon clicked her tongue loud enough to snap like a branch. “Academic old hands are a pain. Fine. Name your price.”

Yekase had waited for that line like a hunter on a ridge. She did need something from Sandryon, and she liked any academic scrum, no matter the field. But without this pivot, she’d owe Sandryon a favor big as a mountain.

Favors depended on the face across the table.

Ling Yi, Jiang Bailu, Professor F, Shen Shanshan—she’d never count favors with them. But with Xiaoyuan, Lu Yao, and Sandryon, she wanted the scale to tilt her way.

Keeping her tone calm as winter water, she said, “Brew me a dose. Details after you agree.”

—

That night, Sandryon dragged her out like a tide pulling a shell.

“Sure, no one will scold if you go casual,” she said, shepherding Yekase into the Witch Workshop’s alley, her words glowing like signboard lanterns. “But first impressions matter. Let’s get you a dress.”

“It’s the twenty-first century. Even Ancient Alchemy folks aren’t fossils. Don’t worry. Still, who doesn’t want to meet a pretty youngster?” Her laugh rang like bells.

“Wait.” The single word rose like steam.

Yekase no longer flinched at gowns and big skirts; what snagged her was another thread. “When we chatted, didn’t you say you’re the last Ancient Alchemist alive? So that was just chest-thumping?”

“Ahaha, that.” Sandryon’s gaze slid aside like a fish. “You were a mechanic, remember? I thought you’d never step into this side.”

The Crystal Witch stood a head shorter, moon in the shadow of a tower. Yekase couldn’t see her expression when she dipped her chin. That rare vantage warmed her like sun on stone.

“I was a mechanic. I still am,” Yekase said, voice steady as a beam.

“What’s your latest piece?” Sandryon’s interest curled like incense.

“The alche—Alchemy keyboard.” The stutter tripped like a pebble.

“And the one before that?”

“A preset module for staff alchemy arrays.” Her answer dropped like a nail.

“Mechanic?”

“…”

“Besides, the core of your earlier work was Infinite Power applications, right? Your mechanical structures are… about undergrad-tier.” Her assessment fell like a clean knife.

“Okay, stop roasting me…” The plea wilted like a leaf under sun.

She had no way to fight off a well-read old monster like her, so she bowed her head like grass in wind.

They stepped through a door marked with a wooden sign stitched with needles, slope of lines like constellations.

Inside looked like an ordinary tailor’s. Bolts of fabric hung along both walls, while rods crossed the ceiling like winter branches. The cramped room felt tighter, more secretive than the “smithy” she’d barged into with Ling Yi and Ling Ya, like fog deepening over a lake.

It felt as if lifting any curtain would open into another world, a door in the rain.

Yekase spotted a roll of purple cloth laced with gold thread, a twilight sky with falling stars.

In the unlit dim, the gold looked lit from within, lines knitting a partial alchemy array. Her brain yanked the emergency cord—expensive—while her fingers reached out like thieves.

“Imperial Aurum Mageweave. A hundred thousand a foot.”

Gulp. The sound dropped like a stone in a well.

Yekase cooled in a rush and reeled her hand back like a fish from a spear.

Does she have eyes in the back of her head? The thought crawled like an ant.

I almost used the teleport box to pinch a scrap… The temptation shimmered like heat.

“I’ve seen most of your public inventions.” Sandryon’s words left spaces like stepping-stones in mist.

Classic half-truth. Not knowing how much she knew pressed Yekase like a thumb on a bruise.

“Many are creative, like the Flashblade System and mechanical alchemy. But more are ordinary, nothing to write home about.” Her tone stayed level, a pond without ripples.

“Can’t always chase the new. A girl’s gotta eat.” The shrug fluttered like a sparrow.

“I’m not criticizing.”

“Oh…” The sound thinned like thread.

Sandryon pulled down a stack of black gauze, night pouring from a cloud. She held it to Yekase and glanced, then said, “What I admire most: brilliant or plain, every piece carries a strong, unified personal style. You know what you’re doing, and what you want to do.”

“Uh… thanks?” The word felt like catching snow.

“This one. Mysterious, austere black suits you.” Her choice settled like midnight.

She carried the cloth to the back, where a modern home sewing machine waited like a chrome bird.

“You’re making it now?!” The surprise crackled like frost.

“Sure. What else?” Sandryon blinked, innocent as dew. “Oh, worried about the fit? Relax. I already measured you with Ancient Detection.” Her confidence chimed like glass.

Yekase didn’t care about fit; she cared that a dress in fabric Sandryon approved of would price out like a comet. The number rose like smoke to six digits.

She’d given away plenty of Gauntlets to seed rumors, so actual income matched the last camera order. She could pay, but the mansion she promised Liu RuoYuan would get pushed again, like a boat against current.

“Back to your style. In my view, it’s three words: civilianized, modular, lightweight.” Each word landed like a stake. “You unify cost-performance, efficiency, and ease of use.”

Most feedback she heard came from Shen Shanshan and Ling Yi, whose vocabulary was basically “damn” and “you can do that?” Hearing Sandryon wax lyrical felt like incense in a workshop.

“You’re a genius, no doubt. But your raw novelty is limited. You turn lofty ‘devices’ into frying-pan simple ‘tools,’ a fire-carrier who bridges lab and street.” Her smile curved like a crescent.

“Ah—so that’s what I am—” It sounded like a scold and a blessing, rain and sun on the same day.

Sandryon’s fingers danced over the machine, a swallow stitching air. Cloth shifted under her hands, angles blooming like origami. She cut, she sewed, a rhythm like rain on tiles. Yekase understood nothing and finally dropped to Shen Shanshan literacy: a soft, heartfelt, whoa.

“…Done. Try it.” The dress lay in her arms like a piece of night.

“Where do I change?” Her eyes darted like minnows.

“Here. Shop’s closed. No one will barge in.” Sandryon’s calm spread like tea.

“Uh, this…” Heat rose like steam.

“Afraid this old bag of bones will take advantage?” Her tease ticked like a watch.

“You don’t look old at all. If anything, the criminal risk’s on my side…” Alone in a dim room with a girl-looking witch, stripping under her gaze, her heart heard phantom sirens.

“When I say strip, you strip. Strip!” Sandryon snapped, staff striking the floor with a clang like a bell.

Hands formed in the air, palms woven from sorcery, gliding in like white egrets.

“So that’s where Mage Hand went in modern magic—hiding here!” Awe flared like sparks.

She wore the Heavenly Heart High School uniform. If it tore, that’d be a disaster, a flag ripped in public. Under pressure, she undressed herself, face twisted like a knot.

Down to two plain undergarments, she shook the gauze dress open, night spilling from her hands.

“Your underwear’s pretty simple.”

“Who asked for your fashion critique?!” Her retort leaped like a fish through moonlight.