Pfft...

The long sword kissed fragile skin, and it didn’t slow; Xi kept pushing, easy as a breeze through reeds, the hilt drifting closer to Ling’s throat.

Of course, it didn’t mean the blade pierced Ling’s neck; the “long sword” was just foam, a fake toy, and with Xi’s force plus Ling’s unbreakable skin, the sword between them could only crumble like stale snow.

Smack!!

The hilt never reached Ling’s throat. Youxiang lunged in before the blade disintegrated, slammed Xi’s blackened hand, pain bit, fingers opened, and the sword thudded to the floor, spared from further ruin.

Too much! What on earth are you doing?!

Her curses cracked like hailstones; the words rode the air and struck Xi’s ears like cold wind.

Buzz...

Not just the scolding arrived; with it came ringing like hornets. Xi’s mind reeled, unable to believe Youxiang was scolding her, trying to drown it in that buzzing.

N-no...

What do you mean “no”?! Why would you do that?! Thank heaven it wasn’t a real sword—if it were, Ling would be dead! Could you live with that?! What if you ended up in prison?!

The relentless tirade lashed like a whip; Xi had no room to argue. She dropped her head, taking the blows like rain on a bowed back.

Enough, Sister Youxiang. Don’t be like that. Xi-chan didn’t do it on purpose. And look, I’m fine, aren’t I?

Ling couldn’t watch any longer; the scolding was heavy, and making a loli shoulder that kind of storm wasn’t right.

The plea earned her Xi’s hostile glare, sharp as glass catching light.

I don’t need your pity! Get lost! All of you, get lost!

Xi darted past Youxiang’s side like a shadow at dusk, slipped her reaching hand, shoved Ling hard, and shot behind the curtain, fleeing the stage like a startled bird.

You okay?

Youxiang helped dazed Ling up, dusted her skirt like brushing ash from a lantern.

Ling steadied herself, then looked toward the path Xi had escaped, and her head dipped, sadness pooling like dusk water.

Does Xi-chan really hate me that much...

It’s not like that...

The voice fell from above like a tired leaf. Ling glanced up at Youxiang; her pupils were dim, a lost-night gray.

Xi—she’s a good kid by nature. It’s my fault. Because of me, she ended up like this...

Alert!!

Ling’s nose was dog-strong, but for scenting gossip, not smells; call it tabloid radar, sharp as a big flying crow’s instincts. The moment Youxiang spoke, Ling caught the fragrance of “gossip” like smoke from a hidden fire.

Inside, she dressed a tiny self in a brown detective coat, set an empty pipe at her lips, pen and paper in hand, and flipped into great-detective mode.

Did something happen?

Youxiang, still fogged by sadness, jumped at Ling’s call; she hadn’t expected Ling to be curious.

Ah… that. It’s nothing, really… just your big sister messing up. Don’t mind it, Ling-chan. Forget it.

That dodge only stoked Ling’s curiosity—hot iron on dry tinder. She could feel it: if she learned this, she could patch things up with Xi.

She leaned forward, rose on tiptoes, a light breeze lifted her hair, eyes wide, gazes locking, pupils lit like stars—

I’m really curious!

Splurt—

A line of nosebleed slid from Youxiang’s nose; Ling’s look of curiosity stunned her, cuteness hitting like a spell.

She wiped fast, hands a blur, turned her gaze aside to prevent a second eruption, trying not to leave the impression of pervert, lolicon, or the worst—perverted lolicon.

To Ling, that averted gaze screamed refusal, not shyness. Her curiosity ballooned, and anxiety pinched her. She hugged Youxiang’s leg, swayed left, swayed right, and let out her sweetest loli voice: Tell me, pleaaase~ Sister, just tell me, pleaaase~

Uh… (hand clamped over nose)

She wavered!!

Hope was right there; Ling tossed her last scrap of dignity for the secret like a coin to a wishing well.

She wrapped her arms around Youxiang’s slim waist, crossed her legs to clamp her thigh, rubbed her little head against Youxiang’s chest like a kitten, and sometimes peeked up at Youxiang’s eyes; if she caught Youxiang looking, she blushed and ducked, then kept up the nuzzling campaign. Who could resist that?!

Youxiang stayed quiet, but Ling’s ear pressed to her chest heard the thump-thump spiking, loud as drumbeats. No doubt—her moe magic worked.

If it works, press the attack!

Come on, Youxiang! Take my strongest finisher!

Ling’s hands climbed higher, her body inching like a cautious caterpillar; sometimes she “accidentally” slipped down, then grabbed the soft fabric in a panic, burying her face deep against Youxiang’s warmth.

Youxiang’s heart was a flight of startled birds—She… she climbed up! Ah, she slipped down… ah! up again!… Eh-heh, this little one is crawling on me. Such adorable reactions ♡

What can you say? She’s a loli with eighteen years of man experience; she knows the sacred arts of yuri shows, has memorized “What Is Woman,” and no woman escapes her moe trap. Truly, the shame of a transmigrated man!

Ling: So what?

After “a thousand hardships,” she finally reached eye level. She looped her arms around Youxiang’s neck, stared straight into her eyes, and a pink curtain of heat unfurled between them.

They held the gaze for long breaths. The loli finally spoke.

Onee-chan~

Bang!!

From nowhere came a “High noon!” and Youxiang felt her heart seize, then her body tipped back in slow fall like a felled blossom.

As the girl went down, Ling planted a tiny foot on her belly and kicked off, springing with neat recoil, landing light, then raised a finger in the shape of a gun and blew a cool breath, as if she’d really fired.

Yare yare daze. Guess I shouldn’t have used that move.