A breeze scented with blossoms brushed her cheek; black hair lifted like inked silk; drowsy sunlight fell through pink peach petals, shattered into specks that dappled her porcelain profile.

On grass soft as a green blanket lay a pale-yellow cloth; she knelt upon it, her plaid skirt fanning over her smooth white thighs, hiding what mattered like a leaf over a spring.

She wore pale pink off-shoulder; shoulders clean as a knife-cut curve breathed out a rosy hush. Head tilted, a soft smile cupped her mouth as she gazed at the man asleep on her lap.

A thought fluttered like a butterfly; her lips arched higher; the faint smile bloomed into a full one, like a flower catching sun.

As if called by that warmth, the man stirred from a dream.

He opened his eyes to her upside-down, flower-bright face; behind her, peach trees blazed, their glory dimmed by the glow she cast.

He froze. Familiarity struck like déjà vu and strangeness like a new moon. The shock hit the softest place in his chest; for a breath he drifted, even forgetting to savor the springy warmth of her thighs cradling his head like a pillow of silk.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, brows pinched in a playful scold, a petal of pout. “Did you nap your wits away?”

“You’re the silly one.” Ye Weibai’s right hand moved by habit; he flicked her forehead with a light knuckle, a tap like a pebble in a pond.

“Ow!” She covered her head, frowning like a kitten. “I’m starting college next month! You still treat me like a kid, Xiao Bai!”

That soft, coquettish “Xiao Bai” pierced Ye Weibai’s heart like a sword forged of honey, then melted sweet as sugar in warm tea.

His breath hitched; an odd ache rose with a sweetness he couldn’t hold down, like sour plum chased by candied haw.

“Ruan Lin!?” He snapped his head toward her; he drank in the face that still held the outline of shared childhood, and the name leaped out like a bird.

She tilted her head; hair cascaded like a black waterfall; her mouth sketched that familiar flower-bright smile, bright as spring.

“I’m right here. What’s wrong?”

Ye Weibai held his breath, eyes tracing her like a brushline.

She’d grown, and she let his gaze rest on her with easy grace, like sun on water.

When she was little, Ruan Lin had been exquisite yet bound by the Rules—each move tugged by unseen strings, a porcelain doll too perfect to feel real, like a moon behind glass.

Then came that cold-star night when fireworks bloomed around her; after sobs that tore the chest and spilled out years of despair, she… loosened her chains like frost thawing at dawn.

Ruan Lin, unbound by the Rules. Ruan Lin, more real. Of course she was beautiful, like a spring river newly freed.

Less aloof now, more warm with life; youth surged from her like sap rising, and it set the heart drumming.

Some of that endearingly dazed sweetness lingered; in her smile, a hint of playful innocence breathed like vanilla on warm air.

But…

His gaze slipped, unbidden, to the lift of her chest beneath a slightly-too-small top; a corner of his mouth tugged, amused as a cat.

Taller now, legs longer; the figure… still a baby-deer build, slim and springy.

“Hey! Xiao Bai!” As if feeling his glance, she puffed her cheeks, a tiny storm cloud.

“Haha, I didn’t say a thing,” Ye Weibai laughed, light as wind.

“Hmph.” Ruan Lin wrinkled her nose, then glanced at her watch; panic flashed like a startled bird; she jumped up and tugged his hand.

“What’s the rush?” His voice stretched like a lazy cat.

“It’s almost four! The final raid for Deathwing’s End is about to start!”

“Ah, is it?” Sunlight warmed his skin through the trees; Ye Weibai didn’t want to move, and he let her soft fingers pull him like a stream tugging a leaf. “Let’s do it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” She stared, exasperation flaring like a spark. “Xiao Bai, you never listen when I explain. There is no tomorrow! The Continent of Wind shuts down at midnight tonight!”

He blinked, stunned, as if a bell rang under water. “Shutting down?”

“Yeah! It’s super popular, sure, but… I started in third grade. Now I’m starting college. It’s been almost ten years. A game’s life ends, like summer turning to fall.” Her words spilled out like marbles from a pouch, bright with nostalgia.

“Is that so… nearly ten years,” Ye Weibai murmured, the years washing back like tide. “Since that night. So long. It still feels like last night.”

“Of course!” She giggled, light as wind chimes. “Xiao Bai, you’re over thirty now! Did you forget that awkward day? A sophisticated lady hit on you and asked if I was your daughter. I said I was your girlfriend, and she jumped like a cat in rain!”

He laughed, a little rue in the curve of it, like smoke trailing from incense.

“So… time runs fast,” he said, the word rolling like a river stone.

“Okay, less talk!” she cut in, eyes bright as stars. “The internet café will be packed soon!”

“Alright, alright.”

She really had grown; when she was little, she couldn’t budge him at all. Now she could just barely pull him along, like a small boat tugging a bigger one.

Her love for games, though, was evergreen, fresh as pine.

Ye Weibai stood up with a helpless shrug, a leaf giving to the wind.

As he turned, something caught his eye.

A short-haired girl, a book cupped in both hands, sat upright beneath another blazing peach tree. Glasses framed a face he’d seen somewhere; the way she bent into the book, as if entering its world, felt like someone who had once walked with him a long, quiet road.

Petals fell onto a silver little purse at her side. A notebook lay beside it, dog-eared and yellowed by years, pages curled like old leaves—kept for over a decade, treasured like a pressed flower.

“Xiao—”

He was about to call her name when a pale hand waved before his eyes and scattered the thought like a flock of sparrows.

“What are you looking at?” Ruan Lin asked, curiosity bright as morning.

Ye Weibai looked again. Wind rose and tossed a storm of pink petals; beneath the tree, there was nothing. As if feeling his gaze, the girl had slipped away behind the blossom curtain, quiet as a deer.

“No, nothing,” Ye Weibai said after a beat, a knot loosening into a soft smile. “Let’s go.”

…

On the bus.

Ruan Lin tossed Ye Weibai a link, then dove into guides on her phone like a fish into clear water.

This doomsday raid’s story went like this: Deathwing, the strongest boss on the Continent of Wind, spent ten years coaxing back the red dragon he’d divorced. On the wedding day, the new ring got stolen—yes, again, like fate playing the same card.

He raged hot enough to scorch the sky, yet couldn’t find that damned slippery thief. So the Dragon King set aside pride and teamed up with demons from outer planes, choosing to burn the whole world—If I can’t catch you, I’ll end everything.

Ye Weibai didn’t bother to snark at the setup; a memory rose instead like a fish breaking the lake—back then he’d lost his cool at the boss’s taunts and stole her wedding ring…

Just then, Ruan Lin looked up from her seat; Ye Weibai glanced down from where he stood. Their eyes met like two stars crossing, and both smiled, warmed by old embers.

“If the world ends, it’s all your fault, Xiao Bai,” she teased, voice tinkling like a bell.

“But the wedding ring’s with you, Ruan Lin—my princess,” he said, smiling like sun after rain.

“My princess” painted her cheeks cherry-red; in the later storyline, Liya Delin’s identity is revealed—once a grand princess of an ancient holy realm, like a lotus rising from old water.

She turned her face, shy as a peach bloom. “D-don’t say that,” she whispered, the words barely drifting.

He chuckled, then really saw her face, and stilled as if snow fell in summer.

Sunlight spilled through the bus window and gilded her flushed cheeks; her lips, cherry-red and full, shone with a sheen that made hearts stumble like a misstep on a bridge.

He didn’t know why, but even with people around, it felt natural to lean in, like a moth to a warm lamp.

He thought it. So he did it.

His dry lips brushed the damp-soft corner of hers; a jolt shot through them, bright as lightning through spring rain.

“X-Xiao Bai?!” She covered her mouth, wanting to cry out and not daring, eyes wide as moons.

He straightened and smiled. “Nothing. I just got a little thirsty.”

“Th-thirsty?!” She stared, scandal rising like steam.

“Yeah.” He sounded righteous as thunder. “Ruan Lin, you look… very thirst-quenching.”

“Eh?”

“Like Sprite.”

“Eh? Eh?!” She had more to say.

His phone rang right then; she could only shake a tiny fist and let it go, while her ear-tips burned red as petals.

Smiling, Ye Weibai took the call.

A husky woman’s voice, smoky as dusk, slid over the line. “Xiao Bai, where’d I put my student ID?”

That voice…

Dizziness swam up like heat; reflex answered. “Mind your mouth. Call me bro. And look for it yourself. Also, Ye Fei, what do you even need it for?”

“Bro!” she obeyed at once, a cat curling to a hand. “Movies. Discount, okay?”

“Save the change. Make your boyfriend pay.”

Her voice turned faintly aggrieved, like rain on paper. “Bro, I’m going alone! I don’t even have a boyfriend. Unless you—”

“Rejected,” Ye Weibai said, crisp as a snapped twig.

“What! Big bro, you never take your own sister out!”

“Not interested in watching a movie with my sister. Find a guy and watch it with him,” he said, flat as a stone.

“Heavens, what kind of siscon says that?” Ye Fei fake-sobbed, theatrics buzzing like cicadas. “Since you got a girlfriend, you’re heartless!”

“I don’t buy that you’re going alone. Your track-club girls always travel in a flock.”

“Uh… fine.” Busted, Ye Fei dropped the act and giggled like bells. “Hmph, you’re no fun, Xiao Bai. Just tell me where it is!”

He didn’t bother correcting her; he told her where to find it, then added, tail-flick annoyed, “And stop using an old student ID to fool the clerks. Also, remember where your own stuff goes.” He hung up like a curtain falling.

“Was that Feifei?” Ruan Lin asked, curiosity bright as dew.

Seeing him nod, a touch of envy warmed her face like dawn. “That’s nice.”

“What is?”

“Feifei really knows how to dress, totally unlike you, okay?” She grinned, eyes glinting. “When our classmates saw her last time, they were jealous. Wine-red short hair with a gender-neutral style—super cool and super sexy.”

“That’s because you don’t know her old tomboy phase,” Ye Weibai said, rolling his eyes like marbles. “Besides, when your classmates saw me last time, some asked for my WeChat.”

“What?!” Ruan Lin nearly yelped, drawing a few glances like birds turning their heads.

Then she caught his smiling eyes and realized. “Xiao Bai, you’re teasing me again!”

“I’m not, actually,” Ye Weibai said, amused as sunlight. “But after I told them I’m your boyfriend, they backed off. How about that—satisfied?”

“N-nothing to be satisfied about.” She pouted, a touch tsundere; her cheeks blushed and the smile she tried to hide betrayed her like a slipped ribbon. She muttered, small as a mouse, “Well, that’s just how it is. No wonder those girls kept laughing at me later.”

Ye Weibai smiled and looked out the window, the city sliding by like water.

“We’re here. Let’s go.”