Some clueless boys think turning into a tiny girl would be fireworks in summer, bright and easy.

You could act cute like a kitten batting ribbons, wear pretty skirts like petals, ask adults for treats like candy apples, even read Loli Nocturne by moonlight like a lullaby.

But truth hits like cold water from a well, straight to the bones.

Right now, when Yue Liuyi wants to prove herself, being a tiny girl feels like a shoe two sizes too small, tight as frost on skin.

“Uugh, can’t reach!” Her voice scratched the air like a little cat caught in a curtain.

First drawback of the tiny form: height, short as a shadow at noon.

Yue Liuyi rose on tiptoe like a reed straining in wind, yet the medicine bottle on the cabinet was a star beyond her fingertips.

The Moon Post Bookstore’s room was set to Dongfang Chen’s height, shelves like calm cliffs in fog; as a maiden, Yue Liuyi could tiptoe to reach, like a crane pecking grain—but now, as a head‑pat magnet of a tiny girl, even with a stool she faced a wall like a mountain.

“Woof! Master wants the medicine bottle? Kaka’s on it!” The bark popped like a pebble in a pond.

The golden‑haired slip of a girl ran over, hair bright as wheat in sun, and with a sparrow’s hop she plucked the little bottle down like a fruit from a low branch.

“Th‑thanks!” Her breath fluttered like a paper fan.

“I heard from Sister Dixue,” Kaka beamed, tail‑energy wagging like a willow switch, “I’ll assist Master with all my might!”

“Mm… thanks, Kaka.” Warm gratitude rose like steam from a bowl. “I’m going to cook congee for Little Rose. Will you come with me, like a shadow in noon light?”

“Woof! No problem!” Her reply bounced like a rubber ball.

Second drawback of the tiny form: strength, soft as noodles in soup.

Pots and bowls once light as hollow gourds now needed both hands, her arms trembling like leaves in wind.

Things that took floor‑steady feet now demanded table‑top bravado; she climbed like a kitten scaling a table‑mountain, determined as dawn.

“I’ll stir!” Her small fist lifted a spoon like a banner in drizzle.

Lunch took sweat beading like dew on bamboo before Yue Liuyi could claim it done.

The medicated congee for Little Rose lapped the bowl’s rim like a wavering tide and almost spilled like scattered pearls.

“Kaka, can you carry the porridge?” Her request floated like a feather.

“Woof!” The answer landed like a pebble, sure and neat.

Compared to Yue Liuyi, Kaka was strength coiled like a spring. Carry porridge? Easy as lifting a leaf—she could “carry” all of Yue Liuyi like a princess held against sunrise.

“Just the porridge is fine, okay? I can walk on my own two feet, like a little drum marching!”

“Woof? But Sister Dixue told me today’s lunch is Master,” Kaka said, eyes bright as morning dew. “I’m to carry Master over, like a bridal lift~”

“Yah! Don’t listen to LittleSnow’s nonsense!” Fluster burst like sparrows from eaves.

After a flurry of explanations, Yue Liuyi tore that Dixue “plot” like a paper kite in sudden rain.

…

Finally, the third drawback of the tiny form… no clothes, as bare as winter branches.

She’d brought a few little skirts, and the wardrobe held some of Dongfang Chen’s clothes like sleeping sails, but not a single outfit fit for a tiny girl, a garden without a single right flower.

Dongfang Chen had no little sister; having tiny girl clothes at home would be strange as snow in summer—so, pressed by the cold wind of necessity, Yue Liuyi used clothespins like little crabs to pinch fabric in, forcing big garments to cling like makeshift armor.

A skirt meant to skim the knee with socks became a long hem like a waterfall past her ankles; a blouse meant to trace a maiden’s curves swelled into a robe like a river’s loose sleeve.

The loose, jingling look was cute as a bell on a kitten, but only the wearer knew it was clumsy as boots in sand.

…

Smoothing a slipping skirt like taming a wayward ribbon, Yue Liuyi carefully carried the fresh, steaming porridge to Little Rose like balancing a small moon on a tray.

“Mm… no problem.” Her voice settled like a lake after rain. “Little Rose’s condition is stabilizing; with regular medicine, the road ahead should clear like mist at noon.”

(High‑energy and easy to digest—perfect for the sick, like warm broth to a chilled sparrow.)

“Eh? An angel… is an angel here to take me?” Little Rose’s eyes blinked open, misty as dawn over red rooftops.

“Not an angel! It’s me, Yue Liuyi~” Her smile curved like a new moon.

“Little angel, don’t take me yet… otherwise Little Sweetie will cry,” she murmured, voice soft as sugar melting in tea.

Half asleep, half awake, Little Rose drifted between shore and tide, mistaking Yue Liuyi for a guide in white clouds.

“Mm… don’t worry,” Yue soothed, her words warm as a spring breeze through paper screens. “I won’t take you away.”

Seeing that, Yue Liuyi didn’t explain further; she just smiled gently at the red‑haired little girl, hair like maple leaves in autumn. “As long as you heal well, I won’t come to fetch you, not even on a moonpath.”

“Mm… I’ll… try…” The reply floated like a feather falling.

After finishing the porridge, Little Rose drifted back to sleep like a leaf circling into a quiet eddy.

A bead of sweat slid along a red strand like dew down a thread, dropping onto the mat with a soft kiss.

“Mm, looks like the cold medicine’s doing its work,” Yue whispered, relief opening like a flower. “Now it’s all rest, like a field after harvest.”

Fresh bandages wrapped the tiny girl like white ribbons, and a soft blanket covered her like a low cloud; Yue Liuyi looked toward the bed, satisfied as a lantern keeper at dusk.

On the other side, after enjoying lunch made by Little Yue, LittleSnow also drifted into sleep like a swan gliding into still water.

Her silver hair spilled across the sheet like moonlight on snow, and her peaceful, fine‑drawn sleeping face rested like a porcelain doll on cotton clouds—too beautiful, like a hush after bells.

“Ugh… she’s this pretty when she’s asleep, like a rose under frost, yet when she’s awake she has to tease me. LittleSnow is so mean,” Yue pouted, like a cherry against her teeth.

Even so, after thinking it over like counting beads, Yue Liuyi climbed onto the bed carefully, a cat seeking a warm stone.

“Mm… so tired. I’ll nap beside LittleSnow for a bit… mm…” Her words faded like mist.

Breathing in LittleSnow’s soft scent, light as milk clouds, Yue Liuyi loosened like silk in warm hands.

She, too, slipped into sleep, evening falling behind her eyes like a slow tide.

Afternoon sunlight filtered through thick fog like incense through latticework and poured into the bedroom like honeyed gold.

It lay over the three girls’ dreams like quiet snow, a gentle veil over a shared moonlit garden.