What really happened? It all traces back to last night, a thread unspooling under a watchful moon.

After Yue Liuyi revealed her identity, it wasn’t just Lidashi who froze; even Teng Ying stood stunned, like clear water struck by sudden thunder.

“Y-you’re Dongfang Chen… b-but aren’t you a boy?” Her voice fluttered like a torn banner in wind.

Her eyes flicked to Yue Liuyi’s chest; disbelief cracked like thin ice underfoot.

“L-long story… anyway, I’m a girl now.”

“I-is it really Brother Dongfang Chen?”

“Mm. I have an ability that turns me into a girl—ugh…” Her words trembled like leaves in rain.

With her stammered explanation, Lidashi’s scowl melted into a grin, clouds thinning after rain; even the dark-green-haired girl accepted it after his insistent, drumlike certainty.

The green-haired girl then shared more, her words dropping like pebbles into a still pond.

Turns out Fu Pi and Linoket aren’t ironclad brothers; they’re lashed together by shared interests, rafts tied with fraying rope.

Linoket’s Star-Gel Company needs raw feed from Fu Pi’s factories, while Fu Pi’s Fu Tong Industries lean on Linoket for premium sales channels, gears meshing with cold steel teeth.

“In that case… we could seed distrust and turn them on each other, right?” A plan sprouted like thorns in a tidy garden.

“Uh… that was my plan too, but…” Hesitation pooled like fog over a river bend.

Maybe realizing she couldn’t keep it hidden, Teng Ying paused, a lone sparrow facing a storm, then said, “But I can’t do it alone.”

“Huh? What is it?” Curiosity pricked like fine needles.

“Those two have a fatal flaw… they’re lechers.” Desire smoldered like wildfire in dry reeds.

“Lechers!”

At that, Yue Liuyi flushed, cheeks blooming like peach petals; maybe that’s most men’s sickness, a fever under the skin.

Lust carries a hidden blade. In Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Wang Yun chained beauty traps to turn Lü Bu against Dong Zhuo, a chessboard soaked in perfume and blood.

Hearing Teng Ying, Yue Liuyi grasped her intent—a moth flying into flame—she meant to sacrifice herself to split them.

“If it’s lust, I can play the bait. I used to be a boy; I know what boys chase.” She offered the line like a blade wrapped in silk.

“No. We won’t use Xiao Yue as a chip; that’s tossing a lamb to wolves.” The refusal rang like iron.

“Eh?”

“We don’t need seduction. Linoket has a female subordinate; if we can get her to help…” An inner key might turn inside the locked door.

“A subordinate?” A shadow under his bright lamp.

“Yeah. She operates underground, but I don’t know her codename or identity.” The name lay buried like a seed in dark soil.

And like a bud in spring, their plan took shape, green against a cold morning.

Learning the capital alliance was on the move, the girls didn’t just ping Luyao; Yue Liuyi pulled out her phone, a paper crane taking flight, and messaged the class rep.

“Is that so? I’ve got it. I’ll report to Principal Wang right away…” The reply landed steady as a drumbeat.

“Yeah, it’s urgent!” Alarm rang like a bell in a temple hall.

“Excellent—are you still there? The principal says it’s a golden chance!” A window swung open to dawn.

“A chance?” Their eyes lit like scattered stars.

“At Moon Post Bookstore? I’m heading over. We need to talk…” Footsteps gathered like quick rain.

“Wait! Let my… uh, fiancée speak, um…” Words tangled like vines around a trellis.

What followed was today’s operation; the Council feared the alliance’s strike but lacked a clean opening, hunters still in the tall grass.

Their plan was the key that cracked the gate, a bit of starlight glinting on iron teeth.

…

…

…

The office in Mystic Illusion Cafe remained dim, like dusk trapped in a jar.

Holographic smoke curled from the projection, foretelling the war’s tide. Aside from Fu Tong Industries and the Star-Gel HQ, most of Xinke District lay under Council forces; new flags bit into gray rooftops like bright wings staking claim.

“S-so… you planned to use me all along?” Her voice wavered like a candle in draft.

The purple-haired girl had been subdued by Dixue; her hands were bound behind her, a swallow pinned by frost, and she could only stare helplessly at the scenes.

“No. We truly wanted your help… but you’ve told too many lies.” Her words fell like cold rain on stone.

Deceit and schemes never stick to Dixue. Her silver-haired gift once brought her confusion, an icy mirror with no warmth, but if it shields her precious ones, she’ll wield it without pause.

“H-how did you know… I was lying?” Her question shook like reeds along a riverbank.

Purple Illusion tilted her chin, eyes tangled on Dixue; she had fooled many in her life, but this time her mask cracked like porcelain.

“Lies and truth are different worlds. Build your path with lies, and your life won’t know happiness.” Her tone was a blade of winter, clean and still.

“Who are you to say that!” Rage flared like a torch; fire leaped in her chest.

Dixue’s blank face was a calm lake; Purple Illusion’s fury splashed like oil and sparks.

A stormy impulse surged through her; she stopped thinking, only wanting to strike the silver-haired girl, thunder filling a hollow drum.

A small box rose from the corner, hornets waking in a nest. With Purple Illusion’s ability, a flicked switch would eject grenades and blast the target.

“Die! Die! Die! Die!” The words pelted the room like thrown stones.

But such slow, telegraphed violence could never touch Yue Dier; it was like trying to spear moonlight on a pond.

In a blink, the silver-haired girl finished her ice incantation, breath frosting like winter on glass.

A slab of heavy crystal ice wrapped the box, a glacier swallowing a spark, sealing off Purple Illusion’s power completely.

“Such a useless attack.” Her voice was cool as morning dew.

“Die! Just die!” The scream scraped like rust.

No matter her efforts, the box sat immovable, a stone sunk in a river, sealed beyond reach.

Wild, helpless tears slid down her cheeks; yes—this scene was the same as back then, the mirror of her childhood, memories rising like smoke from old ashes.

…

…

…

Purple Illusion’s mother died early, a candle snuffed before dawn.

Her father drowned in drink, cracking bottle after bottle, drifting through a fog of stupor like a boat lost in mist.

Still, her world held an older sister, a lantern in night rain.

Since childhood, she clung to her sister—seven years older—who gently carried a mother’s role, arms warm as quilts in winter.

Kids in Dreamwood Star had no toys—let alone phones. Her sister, Purple Dream, scavenged scrap to keep them fed, collecting pretty pebbles to weave into bracelets, stones gleaming like tiny moons.

“Sis, what’s this?” Her eyes were bright as morning dew.

“A grape bracelet, see? Seven colors!” A rainbow after rain seemed to rest in her palm.

“Grapes? Amazing! Can we eat it? > <!” Her delight bubbled like a summer stream.

“We can’t eat it, but we can… hmm, wear it!” Petals circling a wrist.

The sparkling grape bracelet circled Purple Illusion’s wrist, delicate as frost lace.

“Wow, it’s pretty! But if we can’t eat it, what’s the use?” Childish logic breezed through the room.

“Nope. A girl must learn to cherish herself.” Her words were warm sunlight on a chilly floor.

They were poor, but time with her sister made Little Illusion truly happy—so very happy, joy bubbling like spring water in stone.

Her happiest moments: when Sis came home from school—eating together, reading textbooks, watching distant car lights like fireflies, curling up to sleep under one blanket.

If only those days could last forever, a summer dusk that never ends.

But one day, Sis came late. Purple Illusion was shocked: her precious sister was covered in scrapes; her cheeks burned red, roses bruised by hail.

“Sis, what happened!” Her voice trembled like a kite fighting wind.

“I’m fine… just fell.” The answer was thin as paper.

“B-but…”

“Eat first. I bought synthetic meat—beef flavor!” Steam rose like a friendly ghost.

She didn’t press that day, but in the following days Sis came later and later, with more wounds, marks spreading like rain spots on old paper.

“Sis, there’s a scratch on your neck!” A thin red line, a thread cutting skin.

“Oh… tightened my scarf by accident. It’s fine, Little Illusion—let’s eat first.” Her smile was a stiff mask.

No matter how she asked, Sis said it was nothing, answers drifting like smoke through fingers.

At last, Purple Illusion decided she couldn’t wait. She had to know what was happening, resolve hardening like ice.

She stepped out and hid along her sister’s route home from school, a shadow under a streetlamp, waiting for the truth to pass.