In the end, it was reaping the seeds we ourselves had sown.

The air grew greener like spring after rain, yet the Moon Post Bookstore’s doorway stayed dry as a creek in drought.

Ugh... this turns into a knot of vines.

With a fog swelling in her chest, Yue Liuyi rubbed her brow, caught in briars of indecision.

The Lindream Council’s stance was iron-cold as frost; even those wasteland drifters got swept up like fish in a tight net.

Luyao looked anxious, a drumbeat quickening; as the Council’s gofers, we waited like a horizon that wouldn’t dawn.

Maybe it’s to shield the land like a windbreak—oh right, can we step past Winterwood District’s snowbound fence?

They allow exit, not entry, a one-way gate in winter fog; a few of my people flew out like geese, and none have winged back.

Ugh... something tilts like a crooked shadow at dusk.

Yeah, that’s the tide for now; I need to smooth their waves, and if news ripples in, I’ll send it your way, little sis.

Mm... thanks, Brother Luyao—warm as lamplight in a long night.

Then may the wind stay at your backs... uh—his words snagged like cloth on a thorn.

He stole a glance at Yue Dier, then slipped out like a cat into dusk.

Even at the end, he didn’t meet the silver-haired girl’s gaze; to a lone man, LittleSnow’s beauty cut like a moonlit blade.

Woof... no spare ribs today, huh; but Kaka will work hard—please rest easy, Master—her tail wagging like a little pennant.

Kaka bounced in place like a spring uncoiling, bright as a spark.

Here the dog-girl’s merit outshone the cat-girl’s; even hungry, she toils like a hearth-fire, easy to keep like bamboo.

Mm... thanks, Kaka, but for now it feels like a boat becalmed, with no oars to pull.

Yue Liuyi sank into the sofa like a snowbank, her mind unrolling like a map toward the next step.

The sudden shift toppled her plans like a stormed chessboard. If Luyao was right, not only the Moon Post Bookstore would stall; even the market’s river and the pharmacy’s well sat beyond a wall.

Ah... what do we do, with hands bare as winter branches?

Little Moon, don’t rush—this might not be a good tide turning bad; it might be rain feeding spring shoots for the Moon Post Bookstore.

Dixue pulled out her phone and sat at the counter, intent as a scholar by lamplight, the screen a small moonlit pond.

Huh? Why do you say that, LittleSnow—her brows fluttering like sparrow wings.

Little Moon, look at these—pages fluttering like leaves in a soft breeze.

Dixue raised her white index finger; it danced in the air like frost, sketching a secret sigil.

In a breath, images and articles bloomed, traced by her like fireflies from a jar. The phone cast a hologram, and from the floating light poured tidings that surprised Yue Liuyi like sudden rain.

Things like the blessings of green ecology, slogans—“fewer sons, more trees”—waving like banners in wind; blueprints for sponge cities like thirsty soil; cycles of sustainable urban energy humming like mills on a clear stream; and more, all drifting like seeds for minds to catch.

Huh? What are these—did you find a lifeline for Dreamwood Star, LittleSnow, like a rope thrown across a flood?

I didn’t find them; the Council did—these are footprints in fresh snow, the moves I’ve tracked from them.

Huh? The syllable fluttered like a leaf.

Next, the Council will likely rain these messages down on citizens by every channel.

Oh... maybe to nudge everyone to guard the land; few watch the far horizon, and most clutch the steaming bowl in their hands.

Yue Liuyi knew it too; her grand spell made Linelor City sprout green like a valley after rain, but it couldn’t mend a whole star’s lungs.

Linelor is a grain of sand against the ocean of Dreamwood Star; to restore the ecology, there’s a long stone road yet to walk.

Mm... that makes sense. Dixue’s nod fell like dew, her finger sweeping like a brush to spill more light; but I think the Council’s plan runs like a deeper current.

A deeper plan—wow, is it an environmental law, a mountain finally rising? B-but... if so, there’ll be walls thrown up like hastily stacked bricks.

She’d always hoped for that law, but capital’s hand barred the gate with iron chains.

Once it lands, smoke-belching mills would fall like dead trees, and ledgers would bleed ink—losses certain barons won’t stomach.

Mm... so the Lindream Council set the board and sealed Winterwood early; that old Speaker from Saint Shima High School moves like an old pine with deep roots.

Huh? What do you mean, LittleSnow—her eyes rippling like a wind-touched lake.

Yue Liuyi blinked, blue hair like watergrass; the fireflies hadn’t joined into a constellation in her mind.

Heh-heh, think, Little Moon—what drought grips Dreamwood Star, and what thunder counters the capital barons?

Huh... huh...? The sounds clicked like beads on a string.

The answer’s already before us like a mossy trail, and this road mirrors what you’re doing, Little Moon.

Ah!! C-could it be—like the first pink at the edge of dawn?

Suddenly, a spark leapt in Yue Liuyi’s mind and caught the tinder.

It would be hard, and it looked like a cliff path.

But if so, a heavy door might be ajar.

Then Dreamwood Star would already taste the first light of dawn.