Alright. Jiu Jiu says she found a spot and used magic to build a house. Let’s stay there tonight—call it a slice of life under a painted sky.

And sure enough, the light was thinning, like warm tea poured into ink.

This otherworld runs short on day and long on night; evening comes early, like a long cloak thrown over the hills.

We were probably in the hour of twilight now, with the sky bruised purple.

There were no lamps here; true night would drop like a curtain, since moonlight is a silver blade, not the sun.

Ninety Nine Maiden caught Alicia’s meaning and took the lead, her pace cutting the grass like a quick wind.

Arthas followed, a steel shadow sliding after her.

Alicia trailed with Ling in her arms, a warm nest holding a drowsy chick that hummed in milk-soft tones.

Her heart wanted the daze to last, like fog in a valley; her gut said Ling wouldn’t be clear-headed until they reached the destination.

So Alicia chose to walk slow, trailing a finger through the river of time, stretching the road so she could cradle this cutie longer.

It was a weird theory, a paper boat afloat on the lake of logic.

Even spinning in place wouldn’t lengthen that fog-time; it was Alicia’s sweet little lie to herself, like sugar dusted on a bitter pill.

But if a lie could sweeten the heart, she had no regrets, like sipping honey under starlight.

—

“Here we are—mountain, water, and a river; the view’s lovely, the air is gentle, but no hot spring.”

Ninety Nine Maiden introduced the place, but her words fell like pebbles; no one picked them up.

Either way, we’d reached the destination, like an arrow finding its target.

Alicia’s plan to stretch time failed like mist in sunlight.

Halfway, the little one woke; she realized Alicia was carrying her and flushed, wriggling free with zero hesitation, like a startled rabbit.

She broke free and lectured Alicia with righteous flair, words flying like sparrows.

It was a “lecture,” but it was mostly, “I’m not a kid!” “I don’t like being carried!” “I’m the one on top!”—all puffed-up and pink-cheeked.

Meant to sound stern, it felt like a tsundere tantrum instead, a kitten hissing at milk, and it had no effect.

Finding her “majestic” scolding useless, Ling got lightly mad and declared a three-minute breakup, like drawing a chalk line.

Their little drama didn’t ripple the others, like a pebble tossed into a broad lake.

We stepped into a temporary four-story “simple” house, fronted by an exquisite dragon statue and a small fountain, like a fairytale courtyard.

Ninety Nine Maiden said it’s where she stays when traveling, unable to return to her domain, a spare nest away from her lair.

“A simple little house,” someone breathed, the phrase floating down like a feather.

We didn’t press it; the word “simple” had stunned us like a soft thunderclap.

Anyway, let it drift downstream like fallen leaves.

Ninety Nine Maiden had prepared well, almost as if staged: only three rooms, set like cards on a table.

Her excuse: “I live alone and rotate between three rooms, like changing pillows.”

Otherwise, we’d be squeezing into one bed tonight, like sardines.

She said it with pride, chin tipped up, counting ceiling patterns like stars, wearing a face that begged, “Impressive? Praise me!”

She wasn’t wrong; Alicia and the others had nothing to refute, like flags lowering in calm wind.

Finally, rooms got assigned: Alicia and Ling together, Jiu Jiu took one, Arthas slept alone, pieces placed like stones on a Go board.

With sleep settled, the outside had been eaten by darkness; it felt like seven, and dinner’s bell was ringing.

Jiu Jiu was thoughtful and had dinner ready, steaming like low clouds.

No one objected to eating right away, long day’s play pulling us like gravity toward comfort.

None of us needed food to live, but after play, the body seeks solace like a cat seeks a sunbeam.

We ate and drank; laughter crackled like sparks; hands flashed and everyone grabbed for dishes.

Even so, ninety percent of the table went into Jiu Jiu’s belly; she’s a dragon, a big one, appetite like a furnace.

If we hadn’t stopped her, she might’ve swallowed the wooden table too, like a beaver; alone, who knows how many.

Life has three great loves—play, eat, then bathe-and-sleep, three pillars holding a small temple.

The first two were done; the last remained, night’s final bell tolling.

“You first or me? Or… together?” Alicia stroked the blond head in her arms, offering a question fit for a fanservice CG, like a curtain half-drawn.

“What about them?” Ling meant Arthas and Jiu Jiu, like two fireflies sneaking off.

“They already washed, then ran off to play somewhere,” Alicia said, like leaves blown by a stray wind.

“Oh, I see… then you go first, sis,” Ling said, voice gentle as a small stream.

Ling didn’t want to bathe together, and Alicia wouldn’t force it, loosening the ribbon instead of pulling a knot tight.

Alicia slipped her hands under Ling’s arms, lifted her out, set her aside, picked up clean clothes, and walked into the bath, like placing a chick on a perch.

Undress. Wash. Soak. Dry. Step out.

Steam clung to her skin like low clouds hugging a hillside.

In just forty minutes, a red-haired beauty emerged, her long hair clinging to her chest like wet silk, wrapped only in a white towel.

Fanservice CG? You already saw it, then someone deleted the memory—physically—like tearing a page from a book.

“Ling—your turn!” the red-haired beauty called, her voice ringing like a small bell.

No answer; silence pooled on the floor like water.

She swept her gaze around, but saw no one, like a lantern that found no shadow.