What kind of surprise will it be?

Ye Weibai drew a half-transparent crystal from his chest, pinched it between two fingers, and lifted it into the sunlight like a droplet of frozen dawn.

It was the Misfortune crystal he’d taken from Mu Ling. It looked the same as the Misfortune crystal he’d gotten from Philia last time—translucent, diamond-cut, delicate as a snowflake. Every facet was polished smooth as rain-washed glass, a mirror to the sky.

But if you watched the gray Misfortune particles boiling inside, you could see this one wasn’t quite the same.

In the one from Philia, the gray particles seethed like a pot at full boil, almost bursting past their prison. They reeked of frenzy and violence, like a caged Monstrosity pounding its bars.

In Mu Ling’s crystal, the gray was fatigued, almost still. An invisible diagonal cut split the muddled mass into two clean halves. They didn’t braid together. They coexisted, calm as twin gray vortices, each turning alone in the small sea.

Ye Weibai guessed the shape of it. Different crystals held different Misfortune. The gray particles formed different patterns, telling each Misfortune’s private story.

“Come to think of it, Wei seems to have forgotten to take half the Misfortune this time,” he murmured, voice soft as a breeze. “If I hand it straight to Little Ash, she’ll gulp all of it, won’t she? Can I just cut this thing with scissors?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. The next heartbeat, his smile froze.

Silence fell, quiet as first snow melting.

The crystal quivered between his fingers, then split cleanly in two. The halves were the same size, but the gray particles were halved, evenly divided into both crystals like water into twin cups.

Ye Weibai stared at the extra shard, stunned.

“This is… a bit too smart. Or—”

A thought flared in his mind like lightning tearing fog. It lit the dark for a heartbeat, then fled like a startled bird skimming a pond, ripples fading to still.

He narrowed his eyes and chased it for a long moment, but the spark wouldn’t come back. He let it go.

“Either way, it’s good news.”

He tucked the extra Misfortune crystal away, then looked to Little Ash. A smile rose at his lips, gentle as the wind outside the window. “Time to eat, my—daughter.”

…

Little Ash felt she’d dreamed a long, long time.

In the dream, everything was black. Loneliness hung like frost. The World was barren, without a single pulse of life.

At first, she tried to find something in that dark plain. She ran in a straight line, and ran, and ran, yet met nothing at all. It was like running on a treadmill that looped time.

At last she spent herself empty, panting hard. She hugged her knees and squatted down on the ground, small as a curled leaf.

In the boundless black World, Little Ash alone sat at the world’s center.

“Papa…”

She bit her lip and buried her head deep between her knees.

Time slid by without a sound, like water through sand. The World didn’t change. Darkness and dead quiet gnawed at the girl, layer by layer.

Just when she began to fear she’d dissolve into that endless dark—

A gray lightning split the World.

The World cracked open. Light couldn’t wait; it poured in like a flood, and washed her tired little face bright.

“This is—”

Little Ash lifted her head, joy bursting like spring. She stared at the gray lightning and laughed, sweet as candy. “Papa’s scent!”

Boom—!

Light baptized her from head to toe.

The black World shattered with a roar.

She tore free of the dream and fell back into waking.

She opened her gray eyes and saw the father she’d been aching for.

Before she could shout in delight, she realized she was floating midair. With a small yelp, her hair and skirt fluttered upward. Her body spun and surrendered to gravity’s pull.

Plop.

Ye Weibai caught her in his palm.

“Does it hurt?” His gaze held her, warm as a hearth.

“Papa!”

She rubbed her little butt, braced against his thumb, wobbled to her feet, and tilted up her face with a sugar-sweet smile. “It doesn’t! Papa’s palm is super soft!”

“That’s good.” He lifted his other hand, careful as holding a moth’s wing, and rubbed her cheek with the edge of his thumb.

Doll-sized Little Ash—her head barely bigger than his thumb. She wasn’t afraid at all. She squinted and giggled, wrapped both arms around his finger, and nuzzled it with her soft cheek, like a kitten rubbing its owner’s hand.

Anyone could see the happiness and contentment shining off her like sun-warmed dew.

But then a thought crossed her face like a cloud. Her expression dimmed.

“What’s wrong?” Ye Weibai’s ear for moods was sharp as a reed flute.

“Papa…” She opened her mouth. She remembered scenes from that black World, that chill like ink soaking through. She had a bellyful of grievance and loneliness to spill.

But when her eyes met his—eyes where a spring wind seemed to flow—she hesitated. She didn’t want him to worry. If Papa grew unhappy, she would only hurt more.

So she swallowed it. She tilted her head and smiled, blooming like a flower. “I’m super happy we can meet again!”

Ye Weibai paused. He looked at the bright, guileless girl in his palm. A smile curved his lips. “Me too. Seeing Little Ash again—best thing in the world.”

Sunlight wheeled and poured through the window, laying a warm haze over father and daughter. A light wind curled by and lifted their strands of hair. Beneath the flying hair, their eyes—one black, one gray—were both crystal clear, bright as stars, startlingly alike.

…

“Capture—the chariot!”

“Little Ash, the horse doesn’t go straight. It moves in an L.”

“Eh?”

On a square board with dark wood grain, black and red faced off. Little Ash strained to lift a round piece, then froze mid-heave.

Clank, clank, clank.

The “horse” slipped free and dropped onto the board.

“This is so weird!” Panting, Little Ash plopped down on the piece, hands on her hips. “Horses are supposed to charge straight!”

“True. But picture this.” Ye Weibai’s voice flowed easy, like tea. “An ancient general on a fine charger, blade in hand. When he strikes, he cuts from either side.

“So two generals clash, the horses cross and pass. The loser gets cut from the saddle. The horses are spared. Killing a horse is despised.”

Little Ash’s gray eyes started to spiral like mosquito coils. “Ah, so complicated. Chinese chess is so complicated.”

“It is a bit.” Ye Weibai laughed, sly as a fox. “But there’s a simpler, rougher way.”

“What? What?”

“Like this—”

Smiling, he flicked his “red chariot.” The piece shot straight and smacked into the “black horse” Little Ash was sitting on.

Her little butt bounced. She squealed, startled, then burst into a peal of laughter.

“This one’s easy, this one’s fun~!”

Shouting with glee, she hopped off the piece, stuck out her little butt, and shoved the “black horse” into a full sprint.

“Chaaaarge—!”

Thunk thunk thunk thunk thunk thunk!

With bright laughter in her battle cry, the red pieces fell back, routed like leaves before a gust.

General Little Ash rode wild, like she’d flipped Musou mode. Man blocks, man falls; Buddha blocks, Buddha falls. Sparks and lightning all the way, swinging bricks and a kitchen knife, totally OP—until a single fingertip stopped her cold.

“Dad, you’re cheating! How can you attack the player?” Pinned by a fingertip to her forehead, she pumped her legs but couldn’t budge, cheeks puffed like buns.

“You’re the one cheating.” Ye Weibai couldn’t help a laugh. “Even if we ignore the rules, at least give me a turn. You beelined for my General. How am I supposed to play?”

Little Ash’s cheeks flushed pink. “Wh-whatever!”