The doors finally open today!

After breakfast, the girls got busy beneath the newborn sun, like sparrows stirring under a warm eave.

“Mm… first we push LittleSnow to the counter.”

Standing by the silver-haired girl’s bed, Yue Liuyi spoke, her thoughts drifting like dew across grass.

“Yue, don’t call me ‘this.’ Use ‘Elder Sister, Lady,’ with proper respect, like bowing to a full moon.”

“Huh? The LittleSnow-brand vending machine talks? That’s magic, like a spring that sings!”

“Uu… Yue, you’re bullying a patient, and that’s mean as winter wind chewing at sleeves.”

“Hey… it’s your fault, LittleSnow; you hugged me too tight last night—I’m not a pocket pillow, not a snow-soft bolster.”

Yue Liuyi shook her head like a ruffled willow, then carefully placed Dixue into the white big box, a pale shell.

The white box was custom-built on River-God Star, a cradle for gear and for a girl, like a boat tucked in ice.

Inside, it felt like a gentle wheelchair, a small skiff gliding over morning frost, steady and close.

“Woof, Kaka’s ready; what do we do next?”

Yue Liuyi wheeled LittleSnow downstairs, and Kaka raced over like a golden comet with a wagging banner for a tail.

“Please help me hang the open-for-business sign outside, like a lantern over the door.”

“Woof, roger!”

A new start meant new currents; after two years shut, Moon Post Bookstore opened its door like a calm lake to the breeze.

“That’s done.”

Yue Liuyi clapped, palms bright as sparrows taking flight from a railing.

No money for ads and no star to endorse, yet she carried a quiet plan like a lantern in dusk.

“Heh—launch!”

The blue-haired girl fired a cerulean magic flare into the sky, a fish of light darting into blue.

Dixue sat at the counter, gaze tilting toward Yue Liuyi like a curious crane by a reed pond.

“Huh? What is Yue doing?”

“She’s telling the city there’s a new shop.

In Linelor City, many folks have no phones or TV, so we announce openings like this, like flags in the clouds.”

The azure flare burst like fireworks and unfolded into a book sigil, a page-shaped cloud drifting.

“Mm… that’s wondrous.”

“But magic flares aren’t cheap.

I launched it with my own magic—being a World Tree Maiden has perks like spring rain on roots.”

Yue Liuyi didn’t know how deep her power ran, only that it flowed stronger than before, like a widening river.

Even in low-energy girl form, her magic rested at master level, steady as a mountain under snow.

She could release flares at will, like tossing pebbles into a clear stream and watching ripples bloom.

“Woof! We’re open—so happy! Kaka will guard the bookstore like a loyal hound under a red gate.”

“Guard duty’s yours, Kaka.

If anyone makes trouble, please scare them off like thunder rolling over a field.”

“Woof, roger!”

Kaka pounced onto the chair by the door, a small sentry under a sunlit arch, ears pricked like flagpoles.

Yue Liuyi smoothed her breath and prepared to greet the first customer, like tea meeting porcelain, calm and warm.

From here, they could just sell books slowly, like rain watering seedlings in neat rows.

“Woof… why is no one coming?”

The golden-haired little girl yawned, head leaning against the wall like a sleepy sparrow under eaves.

The sun hung high like a brass plate; noon arrived, and all morning they waited in a quiet drift of dust motes.

Three girls sat like stones by a stream, and not a single customer crossed the threshold like a leaf crossing water.

“Uu, well… Moon Post Bookstore isn’t a big shop; emptiness is normal, like winter fields lying fallow.”

Nerves prickled; sweat slid down Yue Liuyi’s temples like melting frost slipping off pines.

Why fire a flare and still get no one, like a drum with no echo?

Even if Winterwood District has just over ten thousand people, a new opening should draw eyes like moths to a lamp.

Other districts should send a few curious souls to watch the bustle, like leaves riding wind down a lane.

(So why is it this cold and empty, like a well with no bucket?

Did everyone stop loving books?)

(At least manuals and guides should have a market, like tools in a shed waiting for hands.)

Her heart fluttered like a caged bird until Kaka barked in bright delight, a bell in fur.

“Woof! Someone’s coming!”

“Where? Is it a customer?”

Her mood surged like a tide and then dipped; outside stood Luyao, not a buyer, a runner in dust.

“Little one, are you here?”

Luyao pushed the door open, breath ragged like a man cresting a hill, sweat shining like salt.

“Huh… Brother Luyao… why are you here?”

“Something important happened.

Little one, today you shouldn’t—”

He stopped short, stunned as if snow had kissed his eyelids and stilled his tongue.

He had seen Yue Dier, the elegant silver-haired maiden sitting silently behind Yue Liuyi, gaze sharp as ice on a blade.

Her beauty struck like a towering, graceful snow mountain, stealing his breath and turning his eyes aside like a shy deer.

“Brother Luyao, what’s wrong?”

“Oh… nothing, nothing.”

He shook his head in panic, too rattled to ask who the silver-haired girl was, like a swallow skipping a branch.

He faced Yue Liuyi and said, “Little one, don’t open for business.

No customers will come today, like fish avoiding a net.”

“Why?

Is it because everyone still fears Winterwood District, like smoke that lingers in cloth?”

That fear was the thorn Yue Liuyi dreaded; the district had no toxic gas now, yet hearts might still carry smog like bruised clouds.

“No.

If anything, everyone wants to rush into Winterwood like fish to a flooded field after rain.”

“Rush… to it?”

“Yes.

These sudden plants seem to avoid crowds, so sparsely populated Winterwood became a paradise, a green sea behind quiet walls.

Abandoned towers are now packed with growth—every kind—vines and fruit, like a forest claiming stone.

It’s a free farm of fruits and vegetables, baskets waiting in the air.”

“Hah…?”

“So many citizens are eager to get in, but the police have held them like a dam against a river.

The Council has set Winterwood District as a forbidden zone—no entry to anyone, a gate sealed like winter ice.”

As Luyao shook his head, helpless as a drifting leaf, Yue Liuyi finally understood the empty doorway, quiet as a closed fan.

Moon Post Bookstore had no customers because the whole district was sealed like a snowed-in valley, still as a locked lake.