The sky dimmed, like ink spilled across silk.

Under the night’s cloak, the city felt silent. Abandoned towers loomed like sleeping giants. Occasional window lights pricked the dark like scattered stars, far too few to lift the veil.

As she drove, tube-lit billboards streaked past like fading comets, once proof of prosperity. Now they sagged like tired streetlamps. Most companies had fled the planet; cold vacancies gaped like hollow shells.

She rumbled over pitted asphalt like scabbed earth. She threaded through dense cable trellises like tangled vines, a small trailer clattering behind. Yue Liuyi finally reached her destination—the Moon Post Bookstore. A two‑story white house: shop and storeroom below, and the girl’s old home above.

“Finally... I’m back!”

Looking at the familiar door and street, she felt a joy rise straight from her heart. Though it wasn’t pretty or bustling, it held a trove of her memories like pressed flowers.

“But first... pry those boards off!”

Not knowing when she’d return, she locked the door and armoured the windows with thick planks. There was nothing expensive inside—only the collection and books she treasured like little constellations.

It had felt safe then; now those boards were a stubborn knot in her path.

Back then a strong young man had nailed them in; now a soft, willow‑lean girl had come back.

“Ow... that hurts! Forget it—I’ll just use magic!”

After many tries the planks didn’t budge; the blue‑haired girl finally called on magic. Tiny flower sprouts danced at her fingertips like a welding torch, scorching wood around the nails.

The lock had rusted under wind and sun, seized like old bone. Yue Liuyi went all in and fed it flame till the core melted like wax.

She probably looked like a cat burglar prying a door. But on Dreamwood Star, no one made a fuss. Abandoned houses lay everywhere like shed husks; no one cared if anyone still used them.

Looked another way, if Yue Liuyi had died on the New Land, the Moon Post Bookstore’s things would soon be scavenger spoils.

“Finally did it!”

She swung the door open and dove for the sofa, excitement fluttering like sparrows. It had been her favorite perch. On quiet nights, she would lie there and read like drifting on a lake.

Reality bit. The moment she touched the cushions, a cloud of dust burst up like a dry storm.

“Ugh! Cough, cough! So much dust!!!”

Her coughing sent up even more haze, like fog shaken from old curtains.

“I... can’t breathe...”

After a long fit, Yue Liuyi caught her breath. Years without care had packed every corner with dust; cobwebs stitched the ceiling like frost. The bright, tidy shop in her mind had become a haunted house of shadow and chill.

“No way! LittleSnow will laugh at me!”

Yue Liuyi planted her hands on her hips and set the suitcase aside like a squat stone.

She was never a messy girl—nor a messy boy. For the one she loved to rest perfectly, she would scrub the Moon Post Bookstore top to bottom, and make it new like spring.

It wasn’t an easy job; worse, the bills had cut its water and power like dry wells and cold wires.

But none of that could stump Yue Liuyi. As a World Tree Maiden, her skills ran deeper than acting cute like a cuddle pillow.

“Stellar... Moon Compass!!!”

As she intoned, pinpricks of starlight woke inside the room like fireflies.

The Stellar Moon Compass unfurled its inherent power. The little planet pulled like a vacuum, gravity sweeping outward. Airborne dust clung to its surface and gathered into a lump like wet clay.

For the hidden corners, she dampened a rag with water magic and wiped in slow, careful strokes. With steady labor, the Moon Post Bookstore soon shone clean, neat as first light.

“That should do it!”

Satisfied, she stood before the mirror and nodded, like a sparrow preening.

The setup was complete; only the last step remained.

Her small hands reached for her cheeks like petals touching water.

She peeled off the freckle stickers of disguise, removed the deliberately cloudy lenses, and wiped the grit from her hair. A tiny, adorable blue‑haired girl bloomed in the mirror like the moon rising over a lake.

“Huh... so cute?”

Staring at the girl in the glass, Yue Liuyi swallowed hard, like tasting snowmelt.

Even now, watching herself as a girl felt strange in her chest. When the mirror maiden echoed her moves with cute or shy faces, it got stranger still, like wearing a borrowed spring dress.

“Ugh! Keep this up and I’ll turn into a narcissist!”

Yue Liuyi quickly shook her head and patted her cheeks, scattering heat like sparrows.

The little girl in the mirror did the same, patting her flushed face like peony petals.

On the road home, she had felt the full hardship of being a small girl, like walking against wind.

No camping anywhere. No sharing a room alone with a man. No taking food handed over casually by strangers. Worst of all—no relieving yourself wherever you pleased.

So, to avoid needless trouble, she used makeup to hide, and made herself look plain as dust.

Sure, turning back into Dongfang Chen would be more convenient. But for reasons of her own, Yue Liuyi didn’t intend to.

After all, inside the suitcase there was...

She turned her gaze to the white suitcase; inside lay what mattered most to her, like a hidden flame.

“LittleSnow, we’ve arrived...”

She pulled the zipper open—zzzip—the metal hissed like a snake.

A silver‑haired maiden’s sleeping profile, elegant as moonlit porcelain, came into Yue Liuyi’s view.