“Mmm—my Little Yue’s as fun as a kitten chasing sunbeams.”

“Whoa, LittleSnow, put me down—I'm spinning like a leaf in a whirlwind!”

In the girl’s bedroom, Dixue swept Yue Liuyi into her arms and hoisted her high, joy bubbling like spring water.

“Up you go—up to the sky!”

“Put me down, please! I still need to prepare rooms for everyone, like arranging nests before dusk!”

“Leave that to big sister, like a pine taking the wind for the sapling!”

Alone together, LittleSnow turned playful, hands circling Yue Liuyi’s waist, clinging like ivy to stone.

“No, listen. Moon Post Bookstore took in so many lately, we’re short on sheets and quilts. I’m heading downtown for supplies, like a swallow flying toward market.”

“Huh… like a pebble plinking into a pond.”

“If LittleSnow doesn’t know where to buy, let me go—I’ll be the lamp in fog.”

“Then let’s go together, like two birds sharing a branch.”

…

…

LittleSnow took Yue Liuyi’s hand, and they stepped out of Moon Post Bookstore, like leaving a shadow for sun.

Pale sunlight spilled along their path like warm silk.

Newborn vines twined around rusted railings like green ribbons.

Leaves paused on rooftops, drifting with the breeze; no figures anywhere, only empty quiet, a hushed lake—this was Winterwood District now.

“When you were small, Little Yue, did you always live on this street, like roots tucked under old stones?”

“Mm… yeah. Back then the channel still held water, and sometimes people sat on the banks for shade, like dragonflies skimming.”

Yue Liuyi sifted memories like grains of sand. There used to be exercise frames along the road; now they’re gone, stripped and sold like bones picked clean.

“Heh, Little Yue’s hometown has its own charm, like moss on old brick.”

Dixue gazed around, bright green eyes brewing a secret like tea steeping.

“Eh? What’s LittleSnow plotting, like a squirrel hiding a nut?”

“I’m finding a good spot to plant my Little Yue, like choosing soil for a sapling.”

“Plant me? You’re digging a hole and burying me like a bulb in spring?”

“Exactly. Plant one Little Yue in spring, harvest a whole patch in autumn, like pumpkins ripening. With so many, the naughty one must obey big sister—otherwise I’ll ignore her like a cloud ignoring one drop.”

“That’s too much! I’ll plant LittleSnow too—up in the clouds, like tossing seeds into cotton sky!”

“Huh, like a sparrow’s head tilt?”

“Come winter, we’ll harvest heavy snow, and the air will cleanse—two birds with one seed, white drifts washing the world.”

“Ugh, Little Yue’s mischievous again, like a fox flicking its tail.”

…

…

The girls walked together and finally left Winterwood District, like a stream slipping out of pine shade.

Winterwood remains sealed, entry barred, but those inside can come out, like gates half-open to the breeze.

Besides, Yue Liuyi now serves as warden of the Winterwood protected area. Papers in order, proof shown, she can pass freely, like a crane gliding past reeds.

“Permission granted. Safe travels, like the wind at your back.”

“Thanks,” her voice chimed like a small bell.

Yue Liuyi waved, parting from the guards. The council’s care shows—fully armed sentries at checkpoints, sitting behind roadblocks of scrapped cars, sidearms at their hips like iron thorns along a path.

Outside feels different. Trees are sparse compared to Winterwood, and low leaves have been stripped clean by busy hands, like brows shaved bare.

“If possible, I wish folks wouldn’t peel bark, like taking a river’s skin.”

What hurts Yue Liuyi most: many trunks stand raw, their bark torn. Logging is banned, yet stripping bark slips past control, like wounds across a herd.

To people, bark makes medicine in water. To trees, bark carries lifeblood; without it they wither, no longer casting shade, like veins cut.

“Little Yue…” The words settled like a hush before rain.

“I’m okay, LittleSnow. Let’s head to the corner shop together, like turning toward lantern light.”

Yue Liuyi shook her head, took LittleSnow’s hand, and stepped into a corner sundry shop, like slipping into a warm burrow.

They pushed through plastic curtain flaps. A kaleidoscope of trinkets spilled into view—kids’ cards and toys, tissues and brooms, drinks and chopsticks, a little market river. No famous brands, but cheap and solid.

A few other customers lingered. For Dreamwood Star’s folks, shops like this meet daily needs; big chains like Jiayi or Tengu feel out of reach, like stars too far to touch.

“First, toothpaste. We’re low on spices. Towels and such we’ll grab at the fabric market, like ticking grains on a rice stalk.”

Yue Liuyi picked with care, while Dixue lingered by a row of cups, eyes bright with interest, like a cat at a fish pond.

“What kind of cup does Little Yue like, like choosing a shell from the shore?”

“Eh? I don’t need one. I’ll use my old cup, like a well-worn pebble in my palm.”

“No way. That old cup’s too worn, and too big for Little Yue, like lugging a bucket to sip rain.”

“Uh…” The sound fluttered like a breeze pausing.

“It’s heavy to lift, especially when Little Yue returns to her true form—she can’t hold it. Mm, this blue one looks perfect, like a pond under sky.”

Dixue lifted a pale blue cup, a tiny rabbit stamped on it, moonlight on porcelain.

“Mm, silly-cute, just right for Little Yue, like a puff of dandelion.”

“I’m not Ailuna! Skip the cute patterns; something simple’s fine, like plain bamboo.”

She said that, yet her gaze stuck to the little cup like dew clinging to grass.

“Little Yue’s tsundere. Mouth says no, heart says yes, like a peach hiding its blush.”

“Eek… mm…” Her voice ruffled like a sparrow’s feathers.

In the end, the two girls bought piles of sundries—toothbrushes, cups, little mirrors. One set for each girl at Moon Post Bookstore, so everyone could settle in, like nests lined with straw.

With errands done, they left the shop, satisfied, like swallows flying home with beaks full.

“Essentials collected—next, we should buy bedding, like clouds ready for sleep.”

“No rush. Before quilts, we need something more important, like a ribbon before a robe.”

“Eh? More important…?” Her attention tilted like a leaf to the wind.

“Pretty little dresses. Little Yue is so cute—how can she not change into a new one each day, like petals fresh after rain?”

“Eh, LittleSnow, now’s not the time for dresses. And Dreamwood Star doesn’t have those frilly lolita dresses anymore; everyone wears plain clothes, like fields in winter.”

Yue Liuyi glanced shyly at her own simple dress. Modest as it was, it drew backward glances along the road, like a lone flower in a bare field.

People in Dreamwood Star are poor; there’s no spare coin for dressing up. Many haven’t even heard of lolita fashion, like seeds never seeing spring.

“No shops? That’s fine. Where they sell sheets, they should sell fabric too, like finding silk at a loom.”

“Mm, they do. You want fabric to sew our own sheets? That saves a few coins, like patching quilts under lamplight.”

“Hehe, not just sheets. With fabric, we can make all kinds of little dresses at will, like cutting petals from cloth.”

“Eh? You’ll make them yourself, like a sparrow weaving a nest?”

“Of course,” she said, steady as a needle threading dawn.

She patted Yue Liuyi’s head. In her pale green eyes, Little Yue already twirled in a dress, like a bud blooming inside a dream.