"An eco-themed park—like a forest blooming from ruins!"

"Mm, looks like my Little Moon’s sharp—here’s a head pat, like a breeze smoothing ripples."

Dixue reached over, her palm drifting down like a moth’s wing, snow-soft across Yue Liuyi’s hair.

Yue Liuyi sank into the joy of that possibility, like spring light flooding a small courtyard.

The blue-haired girl who grew up under Dreamwood Star’s sky knew the planet’s bind like a knot in old wood.

Pollution hung like a lid, and talent flew off like migrating birds, while homegrown high-tech lay like seeds that couldn’t sprout.

So outside capital and low-end mills took the lion’s share, and this vast world sold calloused hands like cheap grain.

Back then, the Lindream Council walked on thin ice, unable to curb outsiders; raise taxes a notch, and hornets swarmed with strikes.

That brewed a vicious spiral, the economy circling the drain like winter water, and talent thinned like leaves blown from branches.

Most of Yue Liuyi’s friends left Dreamwood Star, like kites cut loose into a high, indifferent sky.

But if Winterwood District became a theme park, the board would flip like a stone turning to reveal green moss.

Winterwood now was ruins and hollow towers, a unique place like a rusted ship beached under a silent moon.

Iron-bitten machines lay like old bones, factories stood like empty hives, and broken walls held memories like weathered carvings.

Pair that steel with living green, and the body sheds its husk like a cicada reborn.

Picture it: a city swallowed by forest, vines looping mall stairs like river snakes, trees punching up through a basketball court like geysers.

As if humans vanished overnight, and past civility sank like tablets under slow, patient silt.

Thanks to the New Land, rare magical plants have rooted here, leaves whispering like lantern-flames and buds shining like dew.

It could be a showpiece botanical garden or an adventure park, a green maze drawn like a map of wonder.

"Wow, that would pull tourists from other worlds like comets, and our industries could pivot toward tourism like a weather vane."

From all I’ve read, shifting the industrial mix is vital, and tourism is the green river that keeps flowing.

Tourism brings money like warm rain and jobs like fresh shoots after a storm.

Most Lindream citizens can do these new roles, no high gate to climb, just open doors like morning light.

"Heh, if the Lindream Council truly moves, outside demand will spin the wheel like wind, and we’ll pour gains into protection like water into roots."

"If they pull it off, that’s turning winter to spring in a single breath."

Yue Liuyi giggled blankly, already wandering a green carnival in her mind like a child chasing kites.

"What a silly World Tree Maiden… come here for a head pat, little sapling swaying in the breeze."

"Ugh, just this once—like a hedgehog lowering its spines."

Happy, Yue Liuyi scampered over and let LittleSnow rub her head, like a kitten offering its crown.

"Huh? Didn’t expect my Little Moon to be so obedient; then dive into big sis’s arms and act spoiled like a purring cat."

"No way I’m doing that—absolutely not, like a rabbit thumping its foot!"

…

Not long after, Lindream Council municipal trucks rolled into the Winterwood District like slow gray whales.

"Residents, our apologies," the broadcast crackled from tinny speakers like cold rain. "For maintenance, we must temporarily seal the Winterwood District—please stay home like birds in a storm, and don’t cut plants on public land."

The trucks carried loudspeakers and boxes of essentials, speakers like iron throats and crates stacked like brickwork.

Rice, corn—each citizen could claim a share with an ID, enough meals for days like embers banked for the night.

Using her “big brother’s” ID, Yue Liuyi brazenly slipped to the pickup point like a cat stealing cream.

"Um… I’m Dongfang Chen’s sister; I’m here to collect his share." Her voice was small as a reed in wind.

"But miss, it’s a lot, you might not carry it—better call your brother," said the auntie, her hands flour-dusted like a baker’s.

Thanks to Winterwood’s sparse folk, no one mobbed the supplies; the line curled like a thin snake.

"It’s okay, I can carry it—leave it to me!" she chirped, like an ant hauling a leaf.

"What a capable girl—go for it!" The auntie gave a thumbs-up like a sunbeam.

With people waiting, the auntie believed her and handed over the goods, stamps thudding like small drumbeats.

After all, who would suspect such a cute, absent-minded girl, eyes bright as dew on a kitten?

In her mind, joy bubbled like a kettle—the Lindream Council was getting better, even eggs and milk glowed in the subsidy.

She smiled over the haul: flour like fresh snow, eggs warm as pebbles in sun, and milk smooth as a white stream.

Now she could bake little cakes and cookies with LittleSnow, the oven a red hearth and the room a sweet cloud.

The blue-haired girl hurried home, steps quick as swallows and heart lantern-bright against the dusk.