Dixue first met her on a dusk after school, the light hanging like a faded lantern over the paths.

After walking Xinrui back to the dorm, Dixue wandered the woods, mind on dinner while crickets stitched shade between trunks.

Amber sun poured through the treetops, pulling long shadows like ink ribbons across the ground.

A red-haired girl stood ringed by a crowd in the grove’s heart, eyes blazing like live coals.

A cold prickle rose before thought—was this a bullying case?

The silver-haired girl veiled her presence and watched. About a dozen, men and women, well-dressed—trimmed hedges, not weeds slipping in from outside.

“All of you, get lost!”

To Dixue’s surprise, the first to strike wasn’t the ring—it was the red-haired girl at its center, a spark snapping from flint.

She was small, red-haired, with a feral set to her jaw, like a fox kit bristling in brush.

Her small frame carried surprising force; her fist came with a heatwave and dropped a male student outright, a sunflare hitting dry grass.

“She dared fight back!”

“Quick, beat her!”

“Get up! Get lost!!!!”

The redhead roared and plunged into a brawl with a dozen, a stormbird diving into a flock.

But there were ten of them, and they were strong—at least professional level—a wall of shields closing stride by stride.

Two fists can’t beat many hands; after a dozen exchanges, the redhead was penned in, a net tightening over a struggling fish.

“Hmph. She won’t learn after a few lessons, then we’ll—”

The lead man smiled, voice like a snake in reeds, and drew his phone; the others surged in like wolves to a fallen deer.

“You—what are you doing?”

“For Lady Sikong Qinhui, we’ll take a few pictures, heh.”

“Let—let me go!”

The redhead ground her teeth and struggled, but they had no scruples, phones ready for low, filthy tricks, flies swarming a wound.

That did it—Dixue couldn’t watch anymore; heat rose like thunder in a closed valley.

Under Lady Dixue’s brilliant, martial strike, it was over in a second, lightning through dry bamboo.

They hadn’t even understood what happened; a silver flicker, limbs went slack, and they crumpled like grain before a scythe.

“W-Who’s there!”

The redhead stared around, stunned, like a deer after thunder, not knowing who had helped her at the brink.

“You... are you okay?”

The silver-haired girl stepped out, a forest phantom turning solid; beauty and blade-quick prowess carved into the redhead’s mind, a seal that wouldn’t fade.

“D-don’t butt in!!!!!”

Saved, yet ungrateful, the redhead glared at Yedie Snow and bolted like a startled sparrow.

...

After that, Dixue investigated the redhead and the grove incident, lifting moss to trace roots beneath.

She hadn’t expected it; even worldly Yue Dier started at what turned up, like finding a deep well behind a low fence.

Turns out the redhead was Dragon Heaven’s fabled Third Princess—Sikong Qinhui, a phoenix feather fallen into dust.

Those who ringed her were the Fourth Princess’s retinue—attendants who studied alongside her, shadows at a noble’s heel.

Royal infighting blurred the trail; the deeper she dug, the thinner the records became, mist thickening in a valley.

Motives and causes hid behind fog, a veiled moon no eye could read.

Meanwhile, Dixue’s “righteous meddling” pricked the Fourth Princess; she marked Dixue as a thorn, a splinter under nail.

That drew covert retaliation and hostility, rancid wind creeping under doors; soon even Xinrui became a target.

Flour basins behind doors, cockroaches in wardrobes, cruel graffiti sketched like scars—petty shadows dancing on walls.

But Yedie Snow was Yedie Snow—a girl backed by the Rangers Lodge—and she brushed off such childish revenge, dust flicked from sleeves.

The Rangers Lodge was Dragon Heaven’s brightest civilian elite; its reach rivaled the royals, a river running beside palace walls.

Following the vine, Dixue named the perpetrators and published solid proof in the papers, lifting a rock to expose beetles.

The Fourth Princess’s attendants nearly got expelled as a group, a storm stripping leaves off a bough.

Only then did they grasp Yedie Snow’s bite; after weighing it, the Fourth Princess sheathed her blade and dropped a frontal clash.

Besides, that woman arrived at the school then, a shadow crossing the gate at midday.

“Hey! I’m saying your approach is flawed. Some people have power. Cut their claws, and you still won’t catch the head,” said the purple-haired girl, tone like trimming branches while the trunk stands.

“Ugh... Xiaoyan, you too?” Frustration first, then a sigh slid out like steam.

Holding Xinrui’s hand, the silver-haired girl eyed the purple-haired one with a headache and a wry face, rubbing temples under a low sky.

“Being a Special Envoy Ranger out there is boring! Rules everywhere, nothing fun, iron hoops clamped in daylight.”

“Didn’t we say, you lost to me, so honor the deal—do your job as a Special Envoy Ranger,” Dixue said, words carved like a pledge on stone.

“Special Envoy Ranger? You still have to follow rules! Faced with someone like the Fourth Princess, what then? You can’t touch her, so we still need—”

The purple-haired girl drew a longsword, itching to act, a hawk flexing its wings on a cliff.

“Xiaoyan, don’t. They’re baiting us to start something, so they can trap us; charge in and you’ll be used, a foot in the hunter’s snare.”

“Dumb... Dixue! Who are you calling dumb!”

“You didn’t even know you were being framed as a Murder Fiend. If not for me, you’d be locked up already,” a net cinching in the dark around quick feet.

“If not for you, I wouldn’t have been caught! Damn... how did I lose to you back then?” She scowled, like tripping on wet stones.

“Keep being this naive, and you’ll still lose to me,” Dixue teased, a breeze flicking a paper kite.

The silver-haired and purple-haired girls bickered, warmth threading their words like sunlight through leaves.

“Huh? Sister Ye, who is she...?”

“Xiang Xiaoyan, now a Special Envoy Ranger. Seems the Murder Fiend has been active lately, so the Rangers Lodge sent her to work with me, protect Xinrui,” Dixue said, two lanterns set to guard a door.

“Mm. Yeah,” Xiaoyan nodded, a short tap like a pebble on bamboo.

“Uh? Th-thank you, Sister Xiang...” Xinrui murmured, a shy sparrow peeping from a twig.

She thanked her, yet Xinrui looked oddly downcast, a cloud crossing the sun’s face.

“What about the Third Princess? What’s your plan? Intel says she might also be a Murder Fiend target,” Xiaoyan asked, a red mark painted on a doorpost.

“Won’t the royal side send guards?” Xinrui ventured, thinking of shields at a gate.

“Seems most got shifted to the Fourth Princess. The Third Princess has barely a dozen,” Xiaoyan said, a thin line of candles guttering in wind.

“Ugh... that’s not enough. Xiaoyan, that girl’s temperament is a bit like yours; let’s go talk to her together,” Dixue suggested, bridging two rivers with a plank.

“Like me? I’m not that stubborn,” Xiaoyan huffed, a goat kicking pebbles down a slope.

“Mm... anyway, come along!” Dixue tugged, light as a sleeve drawn toward a path.

...

“So, that’s how it went~” Dixue closed the tale like folding a fan, voice soft.

Cradling Yue Liuyi, Dixue told her “old story” with mock solemnity, setting words like tea cups on a low table.

“Wow, Sister Dixue seems amazing! Like she’s been through so much,” Ailuna gasped at the side, a small bell chiming.

LittleMoon had become a body pillow and couldn’t snark, so the pink-haired girl took that job, swapping a flute for a drum.

“Mm... but this story isn’t sleepy at all, right? Ailuna thinks Liuyi won’t nod off,” she said, eyes bright as lanterns.

“Huh? Is that so?” Dixue tilted her head, a swallow listening to wind.

(Of course it is!)

Inwardly, Yue Liuyi groused, tail-flicking like a cat behind paper screens; even half the tale was full of burrs that snagged the mind.

(So... is her surname Ye?

And she’s been a Special Envoy Ranger for a long time...

And Senior Xiang used to be called a Murder Fiend?

What’s with Sikong Qinhui’s royal struggle?

Why was Xinrui targeted by the Murder Fiend?)

Dixue’s tale cut off at both ends, a road lost in mist, making you ache to hear the whole.

But Yue Liuyi couldn’t speak or ask; the feeling was painful, a throat sewn shut with silver thread.

(Ugh... I want to talk... being a doll sucks!) Her heart beat against silence like a bird at a cage.

Her emotions surged; even the saucer quivered on the table, ripples in tea catching lamp-light.

As if sensing Liuyi’s agitation, Dixue nodded and spoke out, a drumbeat rising in a quiet room.

“So! Even though I’m close with Xinrui and Xiaoyan, and I share some past with Qinhui, still—”

As she spoke, a rare blush rose on the silver-haired girl’s cheeks, dawn on snow.

(Huh? LittleSnow?)

Her green eyes were so clear; Liuyi felt warm and safe, sun on water in spring.

“Facing doll-LittleMoon, I can finally say it! I don’t love you as Xinrui’s stand-in... I love you as you. LittleMoon, you’re my favorite.”

(!!!!)

The rush of confession left Liuyi stunned and adrift, a kite cut free in bright air.

That thorn of doubt finally eased out, a knot unpicked by gentle fingers.

So she wasn’t a substitute after all, a mirror clearing from breath.

Since meeting Sikong Qinhui and hearing about Xinrui, fear had shadowed Liuyi’s heart, thin frost on a window that wouldn’t melt.

She’d feared LittleSnow didn’t truly like her, only the blue-haired girl from before, living under borrowed moonlight.

So she hadn’t dared tell Dixue she was actually a boy, a secret pebble hidden in her sleeve.

Not just for lack of chance. If she was a stand-in, and LittleSnow learned she was a boy... would LittleSnow still tolerate her “willfulness,” a lantern’s flame before wind?

Maybe the moment she spoke, she’d be cast aside, a toy dropped on stone.

Abandoned like a played-out doll, with no sentiment, dust tucked under a bed.

Even so, Liuyi wanted to walk this span with Dixue, a lamp carried down twilight streets.

Even as a “stand-in,” she wanted to be LittleMoon and make LittleSnow smile, a red ribbon tied firm on a simple gift.

So Liuyi kept things this way—close on the surface, always worried underneath, never pushing them forward, a small boat hugging the shore.

Thankfully, she finally understood Dixue’s heart, dawn lifting fog from low fields.

And it wasn’t a tragedy, rain stopping gently at the windowpane.

(So... that’s it... I—I actually like LittleSnow too!) Her heart opened like a bud breaking through its green.

Right then, Liuyi longed to tell Dixue her true identity; in front of the one she liked, she wanted no more hiding, shutters thrown wide to light.

But housed in a doll, she couldn’t speak at all, a voice trapped in amber.

“Heh-heh, LittleMoon must want to say a lot now! But don’t, okay? I’d be flustered, so let’s keep it like this… just like this.”

She drew Liuyi into her arms and gently closed her eyes, a snowfall settling on quiet earth.

(LittleSnow... you knew my thoughts?) The thought slipped out like a whisper into cotton.

“No matter what you become—body pillow, human, spirit, monster... I’ll love you,” she vowed, words carved into warm wood.

(Me too...) The answer was a soft echo in a cave, returning to its sender.

In the girl’s gentle arms, Liuyi drifted to sleep, a leaf on calm water finding stillness.

The sky stayed clear and still, yet time stepped toward its next stage, a quiet river turning the bend out of sight.