3.

The place marked in the letter turned out to be the Elven Parliament, a hall like a giant leaf unfurled under a sky of green.

A leaf-shaped monolith, a gate wide as a river mouth—only the Elven Parliament fit that silhouette in the elven capital.

War had just blown past like a storm, and it wasn’t session season. So the grand Parliament opened its doors, and curious adventurers streamed in like sparrows.

“Treasure found—it's a pencil pouch!”

The silver-haired girl lifted the “treasure” before Little Yue. It was a leaf-stitched pouch, green like a zongzi, hanging among branches like a nest.

“If not for the clue, we’d never spot it—nature swallows secrets like mist.”

“But using pencils… what a soft breeze of nostalgia.”

A pencil pouch was a bell of childhood, pure as morning dew. Once you grow, you can’t erase life like graphite with a rubber.

You switch to gel pens and fountain pens—marks like scars on bark. Once ink sinks in, you write carefully, afraid of missteps.

“Huh? Little Yue, did you use pencils a lot?”

“Eh? LittleSnow, you didn’t when you were small?”

“Ugh… only in sketch class a few times. I used a magic drawing tablet daily—greener, like a forest spared.”

A magic drawing tablet is like a digital one, but driven by magic. A basic imaging model costs tens of thousands, like a mountain of coins.

You’d need to sell thousands of books; Yue Liuyi couldn’t afford that, not under this moonlit budget.

“Ah! I’m dying!”

“Wait—no, Little Yue… I didn’t mean to brag! If you want, take all my stuff. Even my body belongs to Little Yue~”

“Ugh… don’t say that out of the blue! Then why do you keep teasing me like a playful wind?”

“Because Little Yue shines when teased, like sunlight on ripples~”

“I do not!”

…

Before hunting the next treasure,

Yue Liuyi and Dixue wandered into the Elven Parliament, their steps light as petals.

“Is this really a parliament? It looks like a garden expo under a blooming canopy!”

“Those are statues of famous elves. Each one a hero who served the Elven Kingdom like roots feeding the tree.”

“Eh… why made of twigs and shrubs? And they don’t look human, more like woven thickets.”

“In inheritance, elves prize inner essence over outward form. These shrub figures hold the distilled core, like sap rather than bark.”

“So they’re art pieces… hm… Eh!? Why is there a banana-shaped statue, its leaves shining gold like noon?”

“Ah! Let’s see…” Dixue tugged Little Yue’s hand, reading the plaque like a stream: “It says this elven heroine loved bananas so much she insisted on a banana memorial.”

“Oh… so elves have weirdos too, like mushrooms after rain!”

“Not weird at all!”

“Whose voice rides the breeze?”

“Don’t say strange things in front of my statue like tossing pebbles at a pond!”

A blonde silhouette flickered beside the sculpture, appearing like light through leaves before Yue Liuyi.

“Eh!? Alisa!? So… this is Alisa’s statue?”

Yue looked at the blonde girl, then the banana monument. She couldn’t tie them together like vines.

The only echo was color—the statue and Alisa’s hair both gold, like ripe wheat.

“While I’m revived, I need to defend my taste, like a banner in wind.”

“Defend?”

“Mm!”

Alisa drifted forward, solemn as moonlight. “Bananas are delicious, and they brighten skin like dawn. They ripen in clusters, a bouquet of sunshine.”

“Oh…”

“So bananas aren’t weird. They’re sweet crescents on a twilight plate.”

“I get it!”

Yue Liuyi nodded fast, like a sparrow. The blue-haired girl found it cute when a girl ate a banana—no lewd clouds, just clear sky.

“Mm… that’s all… uh! I’m tired. I’ll go rest. You keep touring like bees in bloom.”

“Thank you, Senior Alisa. See you.”

“See you…”

The blonde rubbed her brow, drowsy as late afternoon, and vanished as quietly as she came, like mist.

Heroic spirits are like that—without a purpose, they can’t linger long, like stars at dawn.

But Alisa will surely appear again one day, won’t she?

After all, Canary and Ailuna will need her voice like birds need wind.

4.

Looping the Elven Parliament like a ring path, Yue Liuyi noticed scenery she’d missed, like hidden brooks.

There was a wall of leaves carved with elven history, each vein a chapter flowing like rivers.

There were delicate fountains where tiny sprites reclined like dragonflies, water singing in silver threads.

There were rainbow-bright gardens, petals spilled like confetti across green.

There were hammocks hidden in groves for rest, swaying like cradles in a forest lullaby.

On elven soil, care blooms in small touches everywhere—gentle as rain, constant as roots.

Maybe people in the inner ring kept their eyes turned inward like shut windows, assuming mid and outer ring were primitive.

But anywhere life moves, it leaves tracks like footprints in sand, shaping the world in quiet tides.

If there’s one word for it, it’s culture, a tapestry woven like vine and star.

Different civilizations carry different cultures, making the world kaleidoscopic, drawing seekers like moths to lantern light.

Protecting cultural diversity is one duty of the World Tree Maiden, like tending the canopy so birds can nest.

“Ugh, if I want to become a World Tree Maiden, I’ve got a whole forest to learn.”

“Don’t worry, Little Yue. Like saving your hometown, it’s instinct—roots know where water runs.”

“Eh? Really?”

“Mm! Whatever Little Yue’s heart thinks is right, like a compass under the sky~”

“Eh… hearing that makes me shy, like a blush of sunset.”

Chatting, the girls walked toward the garden center, drawn like petals to the hive.

The center brimmed with people, a tide gathering. It was peak time for the World Tree Maiden Festival.

“Cotton candy for sale~ fluffy as clouds!”

“Seeds for the elven songstress’s ring-art—anyone want to plant a rainbow?”

“Ring toss! Ten coins a try—loop luck like stars!”

Stalls popped up like mushrooms after rain. Voices rose and fell, the air merry as bells.

Yue drifted in the festivity like a kite, smiling bright. But Dixue halted, brows tight as bowstrings.

“Eh? LittleSnow, what’s wrong?”

“Found a fly buzzing by the fruit.”

Dixue’s jade-green eyes fixed on a spot like arrows. She pondered, voice calm as winter: “Kill clean? Poison quiet? Hm… or punt him off the World Tree, call it an accident. Neat.”

“Eh!? LittleSnow, why think of storm paths!”

“Wait here. I’ll be right back, like a gust~”

“No—hold on!”

Yue followed Dixue’s gaze and understood the thorn.

Gold hair. Handsome face. A smug smile like a stain on silk.

The “freelance reporter” who once stole Ailuna’s panties had swaggered into the World Tree Maiden Festival like a stray wolf.

No way he roams free under these branches. Gong Linxun hadn’t fled; he even savored elven snacks, greedy as a crow.

The moment the silver-haired girl stepped, he felt a stare sharp as frost, heavy with killing intent.

“B–Butterfly Snow President?”

“Prepare to die, scum.”

Dixue sneered, walking forward, her shadow long as dusk.

“N–no… h–help! Help!!!”

He tried to turn and bolt, but under Dixue’s gaze his legs turned to mud, fear clamping like ice.

Dixue approached, step by step. Her cold, steady aura, her silver figure swaying like steel grass, erased resistance. He dropped to his knees.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to secretly film Ailuna. It would’ve been big news! I did it for peace!!!!!!!!!”

“What, you even filmed Ailuna?”

“Eh?”

“Choose a way to die, scum.”

Smiling, Dixue spoke to Gong Linxun in the sweetest tone, honey over a blade.