“Seriously...”

Ye Weibai studied his reflection in the shop’s floor-to-ceiling glass, fingers brushing the stubble like dry grass on his chin.

“Guess I’m old.”

The girl beside him snickered, eyes bright as spring water. “Duh. You’re thirty-something. I vote we call you Old Bai from now on.”

“Yes, yes, Your Highness. You’re always right. You’re the continent’s greatest first lady knight and a holy princess to boot.” Ye Weibai disarmed Ruan Lin without drawing a blade, a smile for a sword.

Her cheeks flared like dawn. She reached up, flustered, to cover his mouth. “D-Don’t say that! I was wrong, I was wrong!”

“Wrong?” Ye Weibai widened his eyes in mock shock, light rippling in them. “How could a princess be wrong? Your Highness is the all-knowing, all-doing great sage.”

“Ahhh—ahhh!”

Crowds flowed around them like a river of reeds, but steam was already puffing off her face. She pressed close, arms circling him, and burrowed into his chest like a little mouse seeking warm straw, begging him to stop.

Ye Weibai only laughed, soft as falling petals. The girl tipped her head up, eyes misted like rain on glass, grievance gathered there.

When Ruan Lin made that face, Ye Weibai knew it was time to ease off. Otherwise she’d cry—right here, at nearly eighteen, a college freshman-to-be—she’d cry on the street like in fourth grade, easy as a summer shower.

It would be cute to see. But it was enough that he saw it. He wasn’t the generous saint who shared a treasure—Ruan Lin’s crying face—with the passing world.

He thought that, then slid an arm around her slim shoulders and smiled. “Admitting it is enough. Let’s go.”

“Mm...” Instead, she tucked her head back into him, a sparrow under eaves.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just...” Her voice was mosquito-soft. “Stay like this. A bit longer.”

He blinked. A warm tide curved his mouth. “Mm. A bit longer.”

In the bustle’s hum, they held each other like a small island in a sea of footfalls.

...

...

Far away.

Not that far.

Two people watched the warm, sweet scene like moths to a lantern.

“Got your fill, Guozi?” The speaker was a silver-haired man in a kimono and geta, a long sword tucked at his sash. He was thirty-something, with blade-brows and starry eyes, features cut clean as rock by a mountain stream—so handsome the street’s odd looks at his “cosplay” slid off him like rain. He sighed at the woman beside him, who stared and stared. “Ten years. Still not enough?”

The woman bit her delicate lip, a petal under teeth. “Not enough.”

“Man, even I’m surprised.” He shook his head, helpless as drifting smoke. “Didn’t think that kid Ye Weibai would keep it up from Ruan Lin’s elementary school all the way to college.”

“There’s still a chance.”

“Huh?”

“They aren’t married.”

“You. So stubborn.” He shook his head again, a rueful wind.

“Manager, aren’t you the same?” Li Mengguo lifted her gaze to him, night water steady.

He held that look, then smiled like a blade sheathed. “Meaning?”

“I’m not the only one waiting for them to break up, right?”

“Hahaha.” A bead of sweat sparked on his brow. He laughed falsely, brittle as dry bamboo. “Who else could there be?”

“I know.” Li Mengguo snorted, turned away like a crane taking wing. “I wasn’t the only one you saved back then—my dear manager.”

“Eh, eh, eh? Where are you going?”

“Back to the shop.”

“Huh? What about the con? Not coming with me?”

“Boring.”

“Ehhhhhh?!”

...

...

“Lin! And Xiao Bai!”

A voice burst with delight, like a skylark in blue sky.

They turned. Ye Weibai and Ruan Lin saw a short-haired girl in a maid outfit waving like a wind-bent flag.

“Xiao Chan?” Ye Weibai called her name, surprised.

“Mm-hm! It’s me!” She handed her flyers to the curious girl beside her and trotted over like a puppy hearing its name.

“Xiao Chan, you’re working at a maid café?” Ye Weibai glanced at the distant sign: Philia Café. Through the glass, behind the bar, a tall, red-haired, gorgeously curved woman sat reading, like a scarlet rose in a vase of light.

“That’s the owner.” Catching his look, Xiao Chan explained, breath bright. “I messed up a lot at first, but Sister Philia has a sharp tongue and a soft heart. She forgave me. She treats me really well!”

Afraid he’d worry, the girl reported every detail like beads on a string.

“Philia... an international friend, then.”

“Mm! Sister Philia’s from a village in Europe, called Xibei Village or something. She has an older brother from there too.” Xiao Chan tilted her head, brow puckered like a folded fan. “But which country... I forgot.”

“Lin, you knew she was here from the start, didn’t you?” Ye Weibai eyed Ruan Lin’s sneaky smile.

“Of course!” Lin grinned, smug as a cat in sun. “I recommended her!”

“Lin wouldn’t let me tell you, Xiao Bai,” Xiao Chan said, a little embarrassed. “She wanted to surprise you.”

“Fair enough.” Ye Weibai smiled. “Not everyone can handle being a server. You did surprise me, Xiao Chan.”

“Not really...” Her cheeks warmed like ripe peaches. “I’m still clumsy... but my assigned role here is ‘airhead.’ Lots of customers come just to see me mess up—drop plates, pour coffee on them... I don’t really get it.”

Ye Weibai choked on a laugh, then smiled again. “Do you enjoy working here, Xiao Chan?”

No hesitation. She nodded hard, like a pecking sparrow. “Mm! Happy! Super happy!”

“Good.”

“Enough talk!” Lin seized Xiao Chan’s hand, eyes sparking like stars. “Xiao Chan!”

“Ah?”

“Run a dungeon with us!”

“E-eh?” Xiao Chan jumped, then looked torn, clouds crossing her face. “But... I’m on shift.”

“That’s not important! Work can wait. Farming a boss matters more, we—ow!”

Ye Weibai withdrew his hand with courtly calm, as if he’d just flicked a bell to silence. He looked at Lin’s watery eyes. “Don’t corner Xiao Chan. Not everyone’s like you—would rather run dungeons than eat—my princess.”

Ruan Lin wanted to protest, but the title “princess” hit like a soft arrow. She retreated.

“All right, we’ll get out of your hair. Next time we’ll come enjoy your service.” Ye Weibai tugged the reluctant Lin, waved to Xia Chan, and left with footsteps fading like tide.

“See you, Xiao Chan! Next time, dungeon together!”

Watching their backs recede into the crowd’s current, Xiao Chan waved and smiled. When they slipped from sight, the smile thinned like dusk light. She murmured, “Princess... Does Xiao Bai like the princess-and-servant trope?”

Just then, the girl from before stepped up. “Xiao Chan, was that the Xiao Bai you always talk about?”

“Yezi!” Xia Chan’s eyes lit up like lanterns toward the girl beside her.

“Ah—ah?” Yezi flinched at the rare blaze of enthusiasm. “W-What?”

“Teach me how to do the ‘Princess’ build!”

“Huh?!”

...

...

A dragon’s shadow skimmed mountains and rivers like a storm cloud with claws.

Where it passed, magma and meteors raked the land. Death rolled after it like a black tide.

The earth cracked, riverbeds ran dry, plants browned to husks, beasts fell silent.

Destruction seeped through the World. Acid stink boiled in the Void above. A brown, heavy sky hung low, and blood-red threads crawled within it like worms—twisted breath braided from dragon and demon.

Add them together, and it wasn’t one plus one. It was a change of nature, a storm becoming a new beast.

Deathwing, fattened on powers from beyond the sky, had evolved into something even the beyond-demons had never seen—a monster.

You couldn’t call it dragon or demon. Ugly, vast, warped. Not just the Wind Continent’s creatures—even the demons of the “Alliance,” if it sensed them, were only a matter of one bite or two.

The World was vast, the Wind Continent boundless. Under Deathwing’s shock and ruin, it lasted a single day. Then ninety-nine percent of space was gone, like paper burned to lace.

Only one pure land remained: the ancient Holy Nation—Saint Angelo.

Its domain lord was now the last domain master on the continent—

The only Holy Lady Knight, the all-knowing sage, the inviolable Princess, half-Deity and half-human—Li Yadelin.

She stood atop city walls hundreds of meters high, like a spear of gold planted in a gale.

Her golden hair streamed like sunlight. Her posture was iron-straight. Even under this dirty, twisted sky, her golden armor blazed, a sun on a ruined sea.

She gazed into the distance.

A dragon waited there.

An evil dragon.

Its shape filled her clear golden eyes like a dark moon swelling.

It drew closer. It grew larger.

It stopped outside Saint Angelo’s magical shield, a nightmare tethered to the horizon.

It seemed to feed on the World itself to grow. Saint Angelo was the largest nation on the continent; its capital lay countless kilometers from the border. Yet Deathwing loomed so huge that everyone in the city could see it. It wasn’t a dragon anymore—more like a floating meat-mass stitched from countless tentacles, a pair of meat-wings beating the foul air. Its drifting tendrils shed a sick shimmer that made stomachs revolt.

Players couldn’t help but wonder: did their bodies even equal one of its cells?

“This is way too big!”

“How do we even fight that?”

“On the bright side, non-targeted skills can’t miss. You literally can’t.”

“Mages and hunters are fine... What about us Warriors?”

“I’m shaking. I don’t even dare hit taunt.”

“Relax. The devs won’t release an unkillable boss.”

“Don’t bet on it. They’re shutting the servers down. A full wipe wouldn’t be weird.”

“Yeah. Remember Deathwing’s special effect...”

“If it kills you, everything drops. Your bag and your gear—everything explodes out!”

“Hey, hey! No way! I wanted a souvenir!”

“Store it. Warehouse it now.”

“Watch it level up and pop your real-world clothes too. Not just storage.”

“Don’t joke. I’m at an internet café.”

“Same. I’m a girl, too.”

“Girl, add me on WeChat.”

“+1.”

The chat veered off the road like a cart on ice.

“Worried your clothes will pop?” Ye Weibai glanced at Lin, who kept checking her battle potions like a squirrel sorting nuts. He smiled.

She shot him a white-eyed look like a flicked fan. “You think I’m a kid?”

He paused. His smile dimmed, a cloud over a lake. “Yeah. Lin isn’t a kid anymore.”

In their private room, the girl, sensing the dip, stopped what she was doing. She slid her hand into his empty left hand and squeezed, warm as a hearth. “What’s wrong, Xiao Bai? You’ve been off today.”

Ye Weibai shook his head, gaze drifting like smoke. “Dunno. Maybe I’m old.”

“Old, my butt!” Lin huffed, cheeks puffing like buns. “Do you just want an older-sister type for a girlfriend now?”

“Huh? How’s that logic work?”

“Just now! You stared at that red-haired owner, Philia, like a cat at a fish!” Lin had waited to say it; now the words tumbled like sugar beans from a jar. “Xiao Bai—are you sick of me?

It’s been ten years. Ten years!

Ten years, you must find me boring.

You must have seen through me.

You must be tired of me.

You think I’m too young! You think I—I’m too, too, too... little.”

Ruan Lin’s voice dwindled like a wick in the wind; her head sank like a bowed reed; hurt and a lost fog crossed her face.

Ye Weibai couldn’t help a soundless laugh. Then, like shutters closing on sunlight, the smile folded away.

The girl… had grown, a sapling turning bamboo overnight.

A girl’s heart shifts like riptides and twisting clouds, impossible to read.

So often, her anger sprang from the panic of self-doubt.

Because she cared, fear rose like frost.

She was just afraid—afraid of losing him, like fingers trying to hold sand.

She armored that insecurity in thunder and flame; for a girl, small tempers and soft pleading became her only blades.

Exactly like now.

He reached out and drew Ruan Lin in, tucked her into his arms, her forehead resting against his chest.

His palm smoothed her sleek black hair. Her body yielded, soft as cotton candy; even her scent was spun sugar, sweet and easy.

“Ruan Lin.”

“Mm.” After a long beat, her voice came, muffled, like a drum under blankets.

“You’re like a grade-schooler.”

Silence. For once, Ruan Lin didn’t argue; the first wave was a tremor in her chest. Then she hugged Ye Weibai tight, as if folding him into herself. Her voice was soft and fragile. “I am.”

“I… I’ve always been your grade-school girlfriend, Xiaobai.”

“Since that summer after third grade, the day I saw you in the internet café—”

“I was, and—”

“I always will be.”

“Got a problem with that?” She lifted her head, eyes rimmed red, little tiger teeth flashing as she put on a fierce look.

“No. Not at all.”

He met her gaze. Ye Weibai’s smile was slight, warm as morning sun.

“It’s my pleasure, your highness.”