The little girl looked at Ye Weibai with winter in her eyes. “Let go.”

Her face held a cool frost, her posture crisp as a blade—nothing like the cutesy, dazed thing from the internet café.

She stared at Ye Weibai with a stranger’s gaze, empty of feeling, as if he were drifting in the Void.

Yet just last weekend, the two of them had rampaged together in the Wailing Battleground of “Continent of Wind.”

Ye Weibai looked at Ruan Lin. His voice was soft. “No.”

He was holding her slender wrist, fragile as a willow twig.

“Then I’ll call the teacher.”

Ye Weibai smiled. “Please do.”

“Teacher—!”

...

...

“Lin-chan?”

“Mm?”

“Remember the first time I met you at school? You left me in shambles.”

At half past seven.

Night thickened. A mild breeze combed away the summer heat.

Clouds veiled the moon. Stars pricked the high black. The giant Ferris wheel hid in shadow.

Only its glowing ring pulsed, breathing light like a fallen moon, and it tugged at hearts.

Five more minutes, and the Jiahui Amusement Park’s most famous night ride would begin its turn.

The wheel was too popular. Even ten minutes early, Ye Weibai and Ruan Lin still queued at the end of a long tail, like fish in a glittering stream.

Hearing him, the girl snickered. “You snuck over the wall, Xiaobai. Getting scolded by teachers was inevitable, right?”

“Oh, you dare say that. Weren’t you pretending not to know me and yelling for the teachers, so I got chewed out?”

“That—well—no choice…” Ruan Lin stuck out her tongue, lifted her face, and her eyes pleaded like a fawn in snow. “Because I was still ‘trapped’ back then.”

“Trapped” was what she called that flawless, stiff, perfect self at school—polished to misery.

“Then now—” Ye Weibai hadn’t finished when the girl burst into cheers.

“It’s starting, it’s starting~” She hopped, pointing at the wheel as it flared with color and poured out gentle music.

Under the night.

The vast ring made its first turn.

Ka-ka-ka-ka.

Wind surged in a whoosh, and the light wheel cast down Stardust into the Void, dreamlike.

...

Ye Weibai saw her face turn bright under the glow, a smile like a blooming camellia. He closed his mouth.

He didn’t need to ask. That smile already gave him the answer.

Ruan Lin had broken the shackles her dying mother left behind.

She no longer crawled under a mountain on her back.

Now she lived for herself.

For her now, that flower-bright smile could bloom anywhere—at the café, on the street, at home… at school.

This Ruan Lin would daydream in class about dungeons, would swing back at boys’ teasing, would miss exam answers from careless slips.

This Ruan Lin had a thousand flaws.

She was the real thing.

“But… it’s not enough.”

Breaking those chains alone wasn’t enough.

Being able to smile without restraint wasn’t enough.

She had to take one more step forward.

The crucial step.

It’s not enough to refuse to look back… You must—

“Xiaobai! Xiaobai! Xiaobai—!”

Ye Weibai blinked at the puffed-cheek little storm that dragged him back.

“Our turn. Hand over the tickets.”

He looked up at the giant standing over them.

“Jiahui Wheel”—that was its name.

Diameter, 193 meters. Height, 208. The largest in the city.

It rose on the highest hill in the park.

Ride it, and one quarter turn is enough to see the city’s night from edge to edge.

That was Ye Weibai’s endgame in bringing little Lin.

“Let’s go.”

He smiled, handed the tickets, and led the girl onto the platform.

“Please don’t shake the cabin violently, okay?”

The attendant checked their harness and smiled warmly, then shut the cabin door.

“You heard her—no wild moves.”

He scolded the curious little gremlin who was touching everything left and right.

She couldn’t hear a thing through the fizz of her excitement. She peeked here, glanced there, ready to burst with joy.

Seeing her wide-eyed wonder, Ye Weibai softened and said nothing more.

A moment later—

Ka. Ka-ka. Ka-ka-ka.

Piano flowed like water. The wheel began to turn.

The cabin’s view was wide open. Glass framed both sides and above, only the floor was solid, and the world lay outside like a painting.

With the wheel lifting to its music—

You could see it clearly.

The World shrank underfoot.

The sky stooped closer overhead.

“Waa, waa, waa, waa!”

She had forgotten the attendant’s warning entirely.

She pressed her face to the glass, ready to throw herself out, eyes wide and unblinking at the World growing smaller, wider, deeper.

“People—tiny—like ants—like one Earthsplit Slash could wipe a swath!”

“Those buildings! So small, I feel like a basic attack could break them!”

“Everything’s tiny! Super tiny! I feel—I feel—”

Her voice thinned. Still pressed to the glass, her bright eyes grew huge and still, as if she’d seen something impossibly beautiful.

She breathed, “So… so pretty.”

Ye Weibai turned too.

Starlight poured into his eyes.

G City’s nightscape.

If you’ve never looked down from the glass edge of a skyscraper, you can’t imagine the shock. Photos are nothing like this.

At this moment, you don’t see the rough steel and concrete, the harsh forest of towers. You see a river of light, glimmers skimming like soft water.

It’s a sea of glow and a sky of stars.

All hues of light spread, tangle, meld, like countless meteors fallen to earth, cold and warm entwined, weaving a terrestrial Milky Way that mirrors the sky above.

Inside the cabin, the music faded like mist.

Sky and ground together held Ye Weibai and Ruan Lin in a gentle embrace. A hush as deep as space filled every cell.

They were near the top of the ring.

The girl stared out, eyes sunk in a dream.

Ye Weibai watched her.

He let out a silent sigh.

—Begin…

He spoke.

“Little Lin, did you know?”

She didn’t turn. She murmured, “Know… what?”

“From here, you can see a mountain.”

“…A mountain?” She turned, lost. Then something struck her. Her pupils pinpricked and trembled like strings.

Her voice went sharp. “Which mountain—?!”

“Baiyun Mountain,” Ye Weibai said softly. “Where your mother… is sleeping now.”

His voice was gentle water, and it cut like a blade.

In an instant—

The dream woven by the city’s lights shattered under that blade.

Ruan Lin fell back into the real.

From her hair to the toes in her little fawn boots, her body locked up tight.

She sat on the cold seat, biting her lip, eyes pinned to Ye Weibai, words scraping out through her teeth.

“Why—why—”

Why did you say that?—That’s what her pain wanted to ask.

“Hey, little Lin. Did you know?” He ignored her frozen glare and smiled gently. “You’ve hit max level.”

She didn’t speak. She stared, cold as two years ago, before she and Ye Weibai ever met.

The cabin kept climbing. The star-cold light fell between them. The air turned bitter with chill.

Being looked at with that old frost, even prepared, Ye Weibai’s breath stumbled with hurt.

He told himself there was no time to hesitate.

He steadied, met her gaze, and went on. “Remember the setup we made?”

“Break the rules—don’t listen in class, forget homework, slack on cleanup… skip school… Do those, and you gain EXP.”

“With EXP, you level up.”

“Today… you finished every quest.”

“So…” Ye Weibai smiled. “You’re maxed.”

With his words flowing like water, memories cracked the ice, pale shoots pushing through. Her frozen pupils trembled. At the last sentence, her tight lips parted a little.

“Max… max level?”

“Yes. Two years in the making. Life Online player——Princess Knight Liadrin—congratulations. You’ve reached max level.”

Her eyes trembled. “I’ve reached max level…”

“Yes. You’ve shattered the rules on your back and unlocked the new class . But—”

“But?” She looked up, puzzled.

“Player—Liadrin.” He spoke her name, solemn as a vow.

“Present!”

“Last. There’s a quest left. Something you have to say to someone, right?”

He raised a hand and pointed at the far silhouette.

A silent black shadow rose from the sea of lights, a huge beast crouched in G City’s heart.

Baiyun Mountain.

Where little Lin’s mother is buried.

Her eyes followed his finger, and fell into that darkness.

Baiyun Mountain loomed like a man-eating creature, swallowing the girl’s gaze.

Her eyes trembled. Her face went pale. Her breath stuttered. Her body shook.

Ye Weibai’s voice was soft. “Will you drop party, Liadrin?”

“I…”

“Will you give up the dungeon and the quest without even trying, Liadrin?”

“I—I—”

“Will you throw away the chance to take first on the power leaderboard, Liadrin?”

“I—I—I won’t!” She shut her eyes, hurting, then opened them, slow and stubborn.

“I want—”

Her eyes still shook, but they held.

“I want to take—rank one!!”

She stood up hard.

Ye Weibai watched her.

Her small body trembled, breath ragged, as if the whole starry vault pressed on her shoulders.

But she stood.

She faced the dark, giant shadow.

Starlight fell along her back.

“I—I’m sorry.”

Her lips were pale from nerves. They parted, dry, and her voice creaked out.

“Mom… I’m sorry.”

"I didn't do what you told me to..."

"I tried... but I couldn't..."

"I didn't keep quiet in class—the teacher's voice was a lullaby of dust and chalk."

"I didn't get along with everyone—those boys buzzed like flies."

"I didn't turn in every assignment on time—I was so sleepy the words blurred like rain."

"I..."

Alone, the little girl faced the whole night sky and poured her heart out, like tipping a jar of ink into a lake of stars. She didn’t know how many years’ worth of words had been buried in her chest.

Her voice rose, but the night stayed hushed; it felt like the whole firmament had become her voice, a field of cold lanterns listening.

"I fell asleep in class—because I stayed up grinding dungeons with Xiaobai."

"I messed up badly on the test—because during reading, all I could see was the bell ringing and me running with Xiaobai to farm the battleground!"

"I even—skipped school—just to go watch a movie with Xiaobai!"

"Mom... I... this me..."

"The worst of it—I even— even— even started dating early!"

"Not— not just dating— I got married!"

"Me, still in elementary school—married to college-student Xiaobai!"

"Legally married— and we even kissed!!!"

"If we kissed— that means I’ll get pregnant, right?"

"Mom..."

"Mom... I’m sorry... what you asked me to do—before you left, before you left—"

"I—I—I, those things—"

"Those things, I didn’t do a single one!"

"But, but, but—uu—uu—uuuu—"

Crystal tears pooled fast in little Lin’s eyes, bright as beads of ice.

She didn’t even blink. She just held them wide and stared at the far mountain range—where her mother lay, a dark spine under the frost of stars.

She let the tears rush down, washing her cheeks like a cold stream, gathering at her chin, then falling as heavy drops onto the gondola’s floor.

"But—uuuu—"

"Uu—uu—uu-waa—waa-waa—uuuu-waa-waa—ahhhh—"

The choking gathered and burst. Her tiny throat couldn’t hold years of pressed-down storms. Ruan Lin finally wailed out loud.

She cried hard, so hard she coughed in pain, as if she could spit out every grievance and ache of those years like thorns torn from flesh.

Ye Weibai simply watched beside her, motionless, like a shadow cut from the night.

He was still waiting for the last line—the one that mattered most.

"Uu—uu—th-though—I failed at everything—b-but—" Ruan Lin scrubbed her tears, voice breaking to shreds, yet forced the words to roll out of her sore throat.

"But—I’m happy!"

"Not paying attention in class, not finishing homework, messing up on exams—it was all so, so happy!"

"And what’s a hundred times, ten thousand times—no—a hundred million times happier—was that I met Xiaobai!!!"

"It was so good that I went to that internet café."

"It was so good that I decided to stay."

"It was so good that I talked Xiaobai into playing 'Continent of Wind.'"

"It was so good that I ran into Xiaobai at school."

"Being able—to know Xiaobai!—that was so good—"

"So—so—"

"Mom—"

"To the mom—who introduced me to 'Continent of Wind'—"

Head tipped back, she looked into the sharp-cold night sky. Tears fell like rain; her smile bloomed like spring.

"I like you, Mom."

"Yes—yes—"

[Yes... it really is... wonderful.]

Behind the little girl, Ye Weibai’s voice drifted in pieces, loosened and warm with relief, faint as starlight blinking—coming from some nameless far place, appearing and vanishing like mist.

A huge unease poured over the girl like a shadow of falling snow.

It felt like something precious beyond words was melting away beside her, silent as frost in the sun.

"Xiaobai—!?"

Ruan Lin spun around in panic.

Her pupils caught only the night sky, slowly slipping away as the Ferris wheel moved down from its highest point.

Nothing else. Only air and distance.

"Xiao—"

The little girl snapped her mouth shut. A tide of painful doubt and hollow quiet flooded her body, cold as a winter river.

"Xiaobai—"

"Who’s that?"

8:15 p.m.—

Ye Weibai died.

...

...

End of Volume.