After settling Ling’er Long, Nana Toki slipped back into her own rhythm, like a river finding its old bed.

First came the dusting; the long-empty room shed its gray skin like old bark under her quick hands.

Then she went outside alone, seeds clutched like little stars, and pressed them into the earth’s cool breath.

She kept at it till the sun sank like a burning orange coin, and shadows pooled like ink at her feet.

Ling’er Long stayed on standby by the window, a quiet statue, watching Nana’s bustle like a cat watching rain.

Her mood turned restless first, then her tongue moved; she shot the words like a pebble across water: “You tied me back and left me unguarded. Aren’t you afraid I’ll sneak home?”

“Not afraid.”

Nana lifted the cup, her smile warm as a brazier; her eyes glowed like embers. “Even if you run, I’ll tie you back again. You can’t escape.”

“You’ll spend your life at my side. No wandering, nowhere else.”

“...”

“So arrogant.”

Heat rushed through Ling’er first; she turned her face away, teeth grazing her lip, blush rising like dawn.

“I’m making dinner. You want some?”

She stepped out of the storeroom with a pot cradled like a little moon, and tipped it toward Ling’er with a teasing tilt.

“No.”

Ling’er turned her head, sulking like a willow in wind, refusing to look.

“Mm... got it.”

Nana took the pot back, strolling toward the kitchen like a lazy breeze. “When I get married, you’ll never get a bite.”

“...”

This woman.

Ling’er sat in the living room, eyes chasing Nana’s back like a thread; a sour note bloomed in her chest like green plum.

She’d said she liked me, and now she tosses words like nettles just to prick me.

So it was all sweet talk, a sugar shell over air.

Her curiosity tugged first; she craned toward the kitchen, peeking like a sparrow at the eaves.

Silence lay there like a held breath; Nana’s shadow didn’t show.

Then—sudden.

“Hungry?”

A girl hopped out of the blind spot, pot hugged like a warm cat, and startled Ling’er so hard she nearly toppled like a sapling.

“How many bowls?”

Nana watched Ling’er brace on the floor and clutch the table, a clownish pose, and her mouth curved like a crescent. “I cooked for two. Enough?”

“E-enough.”

Ling’er scrambled up, face pink as peach skin, voice small as rain.

...

Things like this kept happening, every few days, like swallows returning to the same beam.

They’d stayed in Mida Village close to a week, and the Marl Kingdom’s grand princess never showed a hint of leaving.

At least to Lorin’s eyes, the Marl princess looked like she’d set down roots here, like a willow on the bank.

“Tsk. You keep dropping by my place like a stray cat. What’s your angle?”

Nana caught Lorin in the act and prodded him, smile sharp as a blade of grass. “You after my local goodies?”

Lorin: “...”

“That’s the grand princess of the Marl Kingdom!”

He lowered his voice, shoulders hunched like a question mark. “Your Highness, you really don’t plan to send her back?”

He did care about the two kingdoms’ line, like a farmer worrying over a weather front.

Once a war snaps open, it’s the common folk who bleed like wheat under hail; a rural-born Lorin knew that truth like soil under nails.

“Send her back, my ass. This ‘local specialty’ I tied back by skill. If Marl wants her, they can come take her.”

Nana’s words cracked like bamboo. “Why carry water for them? What, you planning treason? I’ll report you.”

“Hey, hey, Your Highness, don’t say that. I’m a good citizen.”

Lorin jerked like he’d touched a hot wok. “I’m worried for Hedon Kingdom’s people.”

“Fine, fine. You’re a saint with the world in your heart.”

Nana rolled her eyes, the gesture dry as parchment. “How long have you been camping here? Aren’t you heading to the capital? Aren’t you aiming to be a Hero?”

The Protagonist Lord was about to grow moss in Mida Village; if he didn’t start the main quest, even this plane’s Heaven might cough in disapproval.

“Uh… that’s a long story.”

At the word “capital,” Lorin’s face pinched like he’d bitten a chili. “When you went to the Marl Kingdom, I met an old man. He said if I stayed here longer, I’d meet a companion who’d help me become a Hero. I figured a lone Hero’s path is cold as winter. So I’m waiting.”

“What in the—?”

Confusion splashed first; then clarity struck Nana like lightning through bamboo.

Heaven’s Dao, you cheating dog, dropping boons in person.

That wasn’t in the original plot at all.

System: “...” Host, manners. Manners.

Manners, my foot. You expect manners while Heaven strong-arms the board?

The System’s silence brewed first; when it spoke, Nana detonated like oil on flame.

Next door, Heaven meddles with iron hands, and you still won’t hand me a decent cheat.

System: “...”

Host, you already have one. Like your hidden space.

That’s mine. How’s that the same?

Nana side-eyed the System, sharp as a needle. “Don’t pretend you’d give me a cheat if I didn’t use gear from my hidden space.”

System: “...”

Anyway, in the original, the Protagonist Lord had just one partner—a part-time wife and full-time healer mage—Jade Ring Long, the Marl Kingdom’s second princess.

Speaking of Jade Ring Long, Nana could only sigh, long as wind in pines.

In the story, Jade Ring was lively and quicksilver, a hummingbird for magic, and cold as frost to Marl’s native martial arts.

She loved spells over spearwork. And then—

For the first time since Marl’s founding, “mage” bloomed as a profession, a new flower in old soil; the king turned purple with rage like crushed grapes, but blood is blood.

He scolded a bit, then let her have it, with a tether: no leaving the city at will.

That leash only made her itch like a flea; so—

Under a moon dark as ink, the second princess slipped out of the capital and crossed into Hedon, a gift delivered by night to the male lead.

When Nana read that, she’d marveled—this plane fused western fantasy like tea with milk, even the “freebie” arrived with style.

But now the Protagonist Lord had rooted in Mida nearly half a month, and he’d missed the node where Jade Ring Long gets attacked. What companion could he meet?

Will Heaven’s Dao delay her escape and stage the ambush late?

“B-b-big… big trouble, Bingtang-jie!”

Nana was mid-lecture when a Mida villager in coarse linen burst in like wind through bamboo. “Big trouble, Bingtang-jie! A Giant Dragon showed up behind the village. Everyone’s at the chief’s house!”

Nana: “...”

Well, damn.

The words hit, and she slapped her own cheek, a crack like breaking ice.

See? See?

My mouth spits curses like seeds, and look—another side quest sprouts.

Serves me right.

Smack.

“Bingtang-jie?”

The villager blinked at Nana swatting herself, baffled as a cow at a flute. “You—”

“It’s fine. Go on ahead. I’ll be right there.”

Nana waved him off, heart tight as a drum, then turned to Lorin. “Hear that? Giant Dragon. Why are you standing here? Move. Your companion’s waiting to be saved.”

“Huh? What?”

Nana yanked his sleeve; his brain lagged like cold syrup. “Companion? What companion?”

Nana: “...”

This guy…

“The one that old man told you to wait for! Go save her. Now.”

She rubbed her brow, headache creeping like mist. Heaven’s Dao is acting wrong.

In the original, Jade Ring Long gets hit by bandits, not a Giant Dragon.

What is this, Heaven? Not planning to act human today?

You even sent a Giant Dragon.

You really won’t leave me a path through the thorns?

She called to Ling’er Long outside, who was pounding the striking post, fists thudding like thunder on wood. Together, Nana dragged Lorin and followed the villager, hurrying like sparrows before rain, to the village chief’s house.

“Chief, how bad is it?”

Nana stepped in and asked at once; this dragon reeked of Heaven’s setup—a clean path to push the plot forward. Let the Protagonist Lord gain a companion, and give Marl or Hedon a righteous excuse to wage war.

She saw Heaven’s chess hand clear as a river stone.

“Your Highness… cough, cough, it’s bad. That Giant Dragon has taken the forest on the back mountain like a black crown. Many of our fields and pastures lie up there. If we can’t go up, our days go dark.”

The chief’s house buzzed with people, a hive of worry; faces pinched like dried fruit under stress.

When Nana stepped in, the chief, ringed in the center like a stump among shrubs, shuffled forward on his cane, legs trembling like old willow twigs. “Your Highness, what can we do? Folks’ harvests sit on that mountain the dragon’s hoarded.”

“Yes, Your Highness, what now? My family’s livestock are all up there. If we can’t bring them back, the winter will bite.”

“And my few acres—this year’s grain is all on that slope.”

The villagers behind the chief rushed in, voices tumbling like pebbles down a hill, all pleading toward Nana.

In their eyes, the one with the strength to break this knot was the princess from Hedon’s capital.

So they hung their hopes on Nana Toki, lanterns swaying in a storm.