Interlude

Yin Mu’s Diary

1

I’m done with a life that tastes like lukewarm water.

In a vast steel city, my days run the same home–work–home line, faces like masks, motions like carbon copies.

Under a lead-gray sky, the sea of hours lies flat, no ripples, no joy.

I won’t drift bland to the end, so I opened a novel like a hidden gate.

Inside, I stepped into another world and wore another role like a borrowed coat.

I slipped free of my own name, swimming between lines and margins.

I galloped through dream country like wind over grass.

I felt joys and sorrows I’d never held, tasted the warmth and chill of people like tea and frost.

I admired strange vistas like lantern-lit clouds, and imagined wild possibilities like fireflies in tall grass.

Yet stories, like lives, bow to endings; even bright festivals burn down to ash.

I don’t want the ending—novels or dreams—but sweet hours are brief; their tale walks on, my road stops at the gate.

I watched them grow distant, vanishing deeper into ink; I can’t see their future, and we may never meet again.

Live like this long, and all resets to ordinary; one week scalds me with bitter-sweet, one week cools it to plain water.

So—

I long

to be a character in a novel.

2

How deep can care for someone run?

In my old city, it wasn’t even a question; the wind answered with grit.

Even small kindness twisted in an age where curses blew like sandstorms; goodness was a sapling in a storm, ready to snap.

So we got used to masks, to cold, to acting tough; we wore heavy armor every day like shells.

But the blue-haired girl led me straight to a bed and tucked me under a thick quilt like a warm cloud.

“If anything feels off, tell me, okay…” she said, her voice soft as rain.

“Huh?” The word fluttered out like a startled sparrow.

Eyes blue as the sky; long pale-blue hair falling like a waterfall; a doll-like body in a small dress.

Such a girl would be cherished anywhere; yet she grabbed a rag, climbed and reached, cleaning corners like a swift sparrow.

She never looked tired or stained, light as wind.

“Mm… if it feels right, use this room for now,” she said, smile clear as spring water.

“No rent?” I asked, heart pattering like a sparrow.

“That was LittleSnow talking nonsense! Stay here and rest; don’t overthink,” she laughed, like wind through chimes.

…

And so, in this other world, I finally found a place to plant my roots.

3

Next morning, as I rose, a rapid patter tapped like rain.

I wasn’t woken by it; curiosity and joy pecked my heart like sparrows, pushing me up.

I stepped down from bed; everything felt strange yet familiar, like fog over a mirror.

My body seemed taller, like bamboo after rain.

Each thread of air around me felt pregnant with new possibilities, like seeds under spring soil.

The girls’ room wasn’t lavish, but little accents bloomed at key spots, girlish as ribbons.

A small bear sat finely on the desk; beside it, a little duck plush huddled close like companions.

Green potted plants lined the corridor and the stair, like quiet sentries.

Last night I’d noticed they weren’t ordinary plants—they were small night-lamps shaped like leaves.

Normally they stayed dim; when someone passed, they swayed and cast red or blue light, guiding the night like fireflies.

Night trips to the bathroom were easy, a path lit like lanterns.

4

I came down to the first floor, the house settling like a calm lake.

The silver-haired queen sat on a white sofa, sipping black tea, elegance rippling like porcelain.

The cute blue-haired girl sat beside her, happy over a book like a sunbeam.

Both looked serene and at ease, beauty like slow-dancing swans.

“Good morning~” their voices chimed like bells.

For a moment, I thought I’d wandered into a noble girls’ garden; I felt like a country bumpkin in muddy shoes.

“Huh? Did Kaka’s running wake you?” she asked, her tone floating like steam.

Kaka’s running—the phrase bobbed in my mind like a cork.

“Mm… the little blonde girl. Kaka’s of the canine folk, so she trains by the Moon Post Bookstore every morning.”

“Sisters, I finished my run and I’m back!!!” Her voice burst in like sunshine.

A golden-haired little girl pushed the door open, sunlight clinging like fur.

I’d gone upstairs early yesterday, so I hadn’t noticed Moon Post Bookstore had another member.

Fuzzy golden ears, a small tail swaying behind, little tiger teeth at her lip; she looked girl, yet different from humans.

In short, unbearably cute, like a kitten in the sun.

“Eek! You’re dripping; wipe up!” she cried, like a sparrow startled by rain.

The blue-haired girl snapped her book shut, fetched a towel, and rubbed Kaka’s hair like polishing silk.

The girl’s face melted into bliss; her furry ears twitched with each stroke, soft as clouds.

“Woof! Thank you, Master! Kaka loves Master most!” she yipped, joy bright as a spark.

“I’ve said it, Kaka—you don’t need to call me Master all the time. If someone hears, it’ll be weird, okay?” she sighed, gentle as mist.

“Woof! But Kaka loves calling the one she loves Master! Woof, woof!” her tail swished like grass in wind.

“Hehe~ so embarrassing,” she giggled, cheeks pink as petals.

They stood together, and the first floor filled with gentle warmth like morning sun.

5

We had no plans to go out today, but the bookstore balcony made a fine perch, a window on breath and light.

Before us, a city where nature braided with ruins spread like vines over broken stone; it felt magic.

I’d never thought those two could weave together so well; the sight stitched hope into me like bright thread.

Staring at it, I knew I should record this, press it into a future novel like a leaf in a diary.

…

Then a thin warning brushed my heart like a cold wind; I lowered my head.

A man in a gray suit and sunglasses stepped from the street, shadow glued to his heels.

I had never seen him; no memory answered his face, like a blank page.

But fear rose without reason, pushing me back, urging me to hide in the cupboard like a mouse.

Shame flushed me, but the blue-haired girl stayed by my side like a sheltering tree.

“Huh? What happened?” she asked, her voice a soft bell.

She noticed my shift and hurried over, steps quick as water.

“N-no… I saw a gray-clothed man outside, and I’m scared…” I stammered, my words shaking like leaves.

It’s embarrassing to admit, but I’m not the lead here; being timid should be fine, right?

Yet the blue-haired girl looked even more surprised, eyes widening like moons.

She nodded and said, “Hide, quick. They might be here for you!” Her words rang sharp as a bell.