With a black-and-white pair of rabbit dolls tucked in her arms, Xi wandered, a sparrow blown off its branch. She didn’t know where to go; she only wanted distance from Ouyang. As her breath cooled, regret pooled like rain in a hollow.

She’d been gone so long, and Ouyang hadn’t caught up. The thought hurt, a lantern with no hand to lift it, and it left her hopeless.

The future stretched like fog; where had the road gone?

Sunrise climbed at the rim of the sky like a slow ember, but its glow didn’t warm her bones. The world stayed cold, a field of frost; in corners the sun couldn’t touch, ice kept its lonely vigil.

“Mm… I’m starving…”

She shuffled through the wilds, feet like stones, and hit her first problem: no food. When Ouyang was around, meals, clothes, shelter lined up like chess pieces; he planned everything. Now that she’d left him, each piece slipped, clattering like loose tiles.

Forget money; she was in scrub and stray wind. Hunt? She was just a normal girl, a reed in the gust, without that skill. Wild fruit? All along the path, not a single berry flashed its color at her.

Hungry, thirsty, drowsy—each need pressed like a tide against her ribs.

She wanted to shut her eyes, drift like bark on water, and let the worries sink.

Little Black tugged her sleeve, a moth tapping glass. “Master, there’s a small village ahead. We’ll have food and drink there!”

“A village?”

At his words, Xi flared back like a candle catching. In the distance, thin cooking smoke rose like ink washes, proof of people. Closer. Closer still.

From a rise, she looked down. It was a village, and a large one—no, a small town, spread like a woven mat; a simple village wouldn’t sprawl this far.

Buoyed by sudden gladness, she jogged into town, heart a freed bird. Then she hit her second problem.

There was food here, but her purse was a dry well.

Head lowered, she hugged the two dolls tighter, snow and night in her arms. Ever since she stormed out of that city last night, thorns pricked her path. Could she really live alone, a boat without oars?

“Master, there are lots of refugees over there,” Little Bai piped up, pointing like a willow switch. Xi followed his finger; rag-wrapped figures clustered like fallen leaves.

“Hurry, the shrine has relief meals. If we’re late, they’ll be gone!”

“Hey, brother, what’s a relief meal? I only heard there’s free food in this town.”

“A relief meal is free. If you’re late, it’s all gone. Stop dawdling.”

From their chatter, Xi learned of a shrine with free meals, a spring in drought. But… did she really have to join them? Little Black’s steady tone sealed her thought.

With no money, free food wasn’t something to turn your nose up at. Nudged by Little Black and Little Bai, she trailed the refugee crowd toward the shrine, a leaf carried by a stream.

Along the way, more refugees appeared, faces like cracked earth, and their talk scattered news like grain. War in these chaotic times had ground too many homes into dust. Among them were old clans and proud houses, even a king who once held a nation’s reins, and merchants fat with wealth. The man calling himself king had watched his country wiped off the map by a god’s hand, a single stroke like thunder. He lived only by clutching a forbidden scroll, a ragged lifeline.

He was just a man. With no country and no retinue, he drifted, a broken standard in the wind, until he looked like this.

The self-styled king walked and bragged, telling his mates how bright it had been when he wore the crown. Someone cut him off mid-swell.

“King? Tch. What’s there to brag about? Back then, I was a god.”

The so-called god looked sallow and thin, a candle burned down to a stub, like someone chasing poison. His claim pricked interest all around.

“Huh… Lord God, how’d you end up like this? Why mix with us mortals?”

He tossed the speaker a disdainful look, a hawk down its beak. “This god is being close to the people. Got it? Only then can I taste mortal life.”

Laughter broke like rain on tin roofing. King or god, real or not—at least in this breath, everyone here was a refugee.

Xi listened carefully, gathering bits of truth like shells. As she focused, a figure stepped to her side: a little girl, maybe not even ten, ragged as torn cloud.

“Big sister, are you going to the shrine for food too?”

The girl was puzzled, because Xi didn’t look like a refugee at all. Her white dress was made by Xian’s own hands, a work of an Elder God; after a whole night in the wild, it still shone like new snow.

Xi felt awkward, but she nodded softly, a reed bowing to wind.

“Then big sister, was your family rich before? Your clothes are so pretty!”

Xi lowered her head. She didn’t know how to answer. Family? Did she have a home?

Little Black hopped out to assert himself, tail like a tiny pennant. “Of course. Our master is very, very rich. Money—she can have as much as she wants.”

The girl jolted when the black rabbit doll spoke, a sparrow startled from a fence. Little Black’s voice drew every nearby gaze. A doll, and it could speak?

Seeing Little Black looked harmless, the girl steadied herself. “Um… rabbit, are you the one talking?”

“Of course! This rabbit was born from a true god’s hands—” Little Black seemed to realize something and snapped his mouth shut, a shutter clapping. No matter the teasing, he curled into Xi’s arms and ignored them.

Soon, Xi and the refugees reached a mountain at the town’s edge, where a shrine stood tucked in deep woods like a white heron. Refugees lined up in a long snake; when Xi looked, she couldn’t see the tail.

She didn’t know how long it took; by the time the queue left her dizzy, a spinning lantern, it was her turn.

A huge pot simmered there, a broth of many things. Meat scraps, rice, cabbage, all stirred into rough porridge. The one ladling was a girl, about twenty, dressed in Mystic Priestess robes.

She tried to keep a smile, but Xi felt the cold in her aura, a winter spring. That chill wasn’t disdain; it rose from the core, essential frost.

The Mystic Priestess hesitated when she saw Xi, because seekers of relief were all refugees. Someone like Xi—clearly backed by deep history—felt out of place here, silk laid on mud.

“Um… young lady, please ladle a bowl of porridge. Our master ran away from home and has been hungry all night…” Little Black’s words eased the girl’s doubt, and raised another, because Little Black was just a doll…

In the end, the girl handed Xi a bowl, steam curling like small ghosts.

Holding it, Xi sought a quiet corner, eyes fixed on the swirl. “After I finish this, what about the next meal?” When there was nothing to eat, cravings clawed. Now that food sat in her hands, she couldn’t bear to spend it; once it was gone, the next bowl was empty air.

After a long sigh, Xi drank the porridge. Seeing her reluctant, Little Bai slapped his forehead, a monk remembering a mantra. “Ah, Master, I remembered something. I have a special ability—equivalent exchange.”

“Equivalent exchange?”

“Mm. If Master wants tasty food, just gather enough stuff. I’ll use a dimensional exchange array, a ring of light, to trade with other-space and swap out good food…”

Little Bai saw Xi’s blank look and knew he sounded too academic.

“Simply put: say Master wants a big watermelon. Two ways. First, use other fruits. If we match the watermelon’s worth, I can exchange for one. Second, if we don’t have fruit, we can use stones or timber. But stone and wood aren’t worth as much as a watermelon, so we need a lot. A big bundle of wood might only trade for a small slice.”

Xi still looked lost. Little Bai covered his face, then pulled Xi to a quiet spot where several big rocks slept in the grass.

“Master, this big rock can trade for a big drumstick!” He traced a circle around it, fingers like chalk. The rock vanished with a soft blink, replaced by a plate of roasted duck, glossy as lacquer. “Huh, that rock had gold ore inside, so its value was high. We traded up to a whole roast duck…”

Watching the show, Xi finally grasped the gist. She didn’t know the exact workings, but she knew this: she wouldn’t lack food anymore.

As Xi ate, happy as a bird at ripe grain, Little Black pointed at a tall tree in the distance. “Master, let’s trade that tree. It can become a few cups of juice.” Before Xi could answer, Little Bai took it upon himself; the tree blinked out, replaced by two glasses of orange juice, bright as sunset.

Happiness surged, warm as spring rain. Food and drink within reach; it came so suddenly—one moment she worried, the next she didn’t.

She ate fast and choked a little, a swallow caught on a seed. After several gulps of orange juice, she caught her breath. “So good. But the taste feels familiar, like what I had back home… not much different.”

By home, Xi meant the Void Castle in Miracle City on the Eternal Sleep Continent. The flavor felt familiar, but having anything to eat was blessing enough.

Just then, a sound drifted from afar, a reed whistle in the hush.

“Who?”

Little Black shot forward, a shadow with a whoosh; black wings unfurled like inked paper. Little Bai hovered near Xi, white wings opening like frost. Clear roles: Little Black would scout, and Little Bai would guard Xi, wary of a lure-away trick.

Tension strung the air like a bowstring. From the corner of a wall, a figure stepped out—familiar Mystic Priestess robes, a familiar face.

“My name is Lingwen…”