I’ve lived in this place almost two years. If I add the three egg‑years Qingyu Mengyin mentioned, the continent’s clock has drifted over five.

I wonder how Xuewei is, like a star behind cloud I can’t see.

This pendant hangs cold as a crescent on my chest, the only token that says I’m still here.

I remember it can store a message, like a firefly trapped in glass.

Gotta find a way to send it out, like casting a bottle into the tide.

At least let Xuewei know I’m alive, like a lamp kept burning.

Xuewei, I’m sorry. I lied to you. I have things I must do. These years I’ve been living elsewhere and can’t go back yet. When it’s done, I’ll come find you, I promise. — Ling Yehan.

That should do. Now I just need a way to send it off, like a hawk released.

Turns out I’m bad at sappy talk; my words feel like dull raindrops.

What was I thinking back then, throwing myself at fate like a moth into flame?

It felt like something forced me, like a spell tugging strings.

I’m a lamb trying a slide tackle on a tiger, wool against fang.

Mm, cup’s empty. Better clean up before the old crone Dream gets back, like sweeping sand before the tide returns.

…

Little Shengsheng, I’m back. Luck was good. I picked a heap, like baskets brimmed with leaves.

We can make so, so many grass‑moss cakes, like green moons on a plate.

What… grass‑moss cakes?

It’s our family’s special ingredient, sweet as spring sap and soft as morning fog.

I used to love it, like a child chasing dragonflies.

From your mouth, that sounds unbelievable, like sugar promised by a storm.

Ever since I watched you drain a bowl of bitter, salty, dark yellow sludge, calm as still water, I’ve doubted your taste buds.

Who makes soup by pouring half a bottle of soy sauce, like rain dumped on a pond?

Dreamsound’s eyes narrowed, thin as crescents, weighing me like scales.

Feels like Little Shengsheng’s thinking something outrageous, like a fox plotting in reeds.

You’re overthinking. I’m just curious what your “delicious” looks like, like peeking under a lid.

Of course it’s good. And it’s sweet. I think Little Shengsheng will love it, like bees drawn to blossom.

Mm‑hm… I mm‑hm’d, flat as a pressed leaf.

Then Mommy’s off. Be good. Don’t roam. You’re still too—

Go already!

Dreamsound covered her smile with a hand, and the door clicked shut like a seashell.

Honestly, you nag like an old aunt, buzzing like a summer cicada.

But… sweet? Maybe I can hope a little, like waiting for sun after drizzle.

So, what am I even hoping for, like a fisherman staring at an empty net?

A plate of deep green cookies stared back, like pond stones in a ring.

Just looking killed my appetite, summoning unspeakable things like shadows under water.

Sweetheart~ this took Mommy a long time, like kneading clouds.

I haven’t made it in a while, but I tasted it. It’s still the old flavor, like a kept song.

Can I not eat it? That old flavor might have been… swampy.

Nope~ If you don’t eat, I’ll lock the jar of Xueming in the kitchen, like winter sealing a spring.

Don’t think I don’t know you sneak sips when I’m gone, like a cat in the pantry.

…Fine. I’ll eat. I’ll eat, okay? How did she know, like footsteps found in fresh snow?

Crunch. The taste is… surprisingly okay, like a reed with honey.

Heavens… that woman made something edible besides bread. Is my youth ending, like a page turned?

Why can you bake cookies but not bread, like a potter who can’t throw a bowl?

Aren’t they about the same, like flour and fire?

Where’s the “same”? Isn’t a cookie harder, like carving stone?

I think bread’s harder, like catching steam.

Hard, my foot. Crunch.

The sweetness works, but there’s a riverweed note, like a lake sighing.

Of course. No matter how you trim the taste, the raw stuff is waterweed grown near the Royal City, like grass under palace walls.

You can’t erase it all.

Besides, using this special waterweed is our family’s secret craft, like a recipe kept in lacquer.

Eating this… will it really make me grow, like bamboo after rain?

Of course. Does Little~ Shengsheng think Mommy is small, like a sparrow?

Not that. Some places are… well, mountains.

I’m too small right now; even floating, I can’t cook, like a ladle lost in a deep pot.

I have to grow fast. I’m sick of bread, like dust in the mouth.

A green cookie doesn’t fix it.

Once I can cook for myself, I’ll ban her from the kitchen, like a gate closed at dusk.

With that vow, I grabbed another cookie and chomped, like a beaver on bark.

Little Shengsheng… you care about your size more than I thought, like a sapling eyeing the canopy.

Whad you say?

…Nothing. Just don’t talk while eating, like keeping rain out of a mouth.

Cough, cough! Next time, warn me earlier, like a bell before thunder.

So careless, you never look after yourself, Dreamsound said, patting my back like brushing dust.

I think you’re the last one qualified to say that, like a storm scolding a puddle.

After that so‑called dinner, Dreamsound took me out for a walk, like lanterns drifting.

We only wandered nearby, like minnows circling reeds.

Most of where we live is covered by Soulwater, a blue veil like glass over sand.

It looks a bit like that cartoon squirrel’s undersea home, a dome in a story sea.

Within the Soulwater’s cover, Dreamsound planted many flowers, like constellations rooted in silt.

Many I can’t name, but from afar they rinse the heart, like wind in chrysanthemums.

Dream… you like flowers?

Mm. Strictly speaking, it’s loving the house so you love its crows, like loving a tree and its perched rook.

…Don’t get it.

If Little Shengsheng likes it, you can come down and play later, like a dragonfly landing.

No need to stay shut indoors, like a jar capped.

Too much hassle. Don’t want to. If you ask me to help tend the flowers, I can consider it, like watering under moonlight.

Then I’ll count on you, Shengsheng…

This time without “Little”?

Eep~ I forgot. Little~ Shengsheng. Dreamsound stuck out her tongue, playful as a kitten.

Why does your back garden have so many land plants, even apple trees, red as lanterns?

What is this, Minecraft, blocks in the sea?

Many were moved here back then, when Dad and Mom were still around, like anchors shared.

Everyone was here. The continent and the ocean still lived in peace, like twin shores.

…Sorry.

An apology should come with letting me pinch your cheeks, to show sincerity, like a stamp on paper, Little Shengsheng~

I covered my face with both hands, like shielding a plum.

No!

Heh, she thought, what’s the point of guarding now; when we bathe later, he’ll be at my mercy, like driftwood in current.

Alright then. No pinching~

…If you’re really upset… you can pinch… once, I said, voice small as dew.

Hm? What did Little Shengsheng say? Louder, like a bell.

Once! Just once!

My my, inviting me to pinch your face? Then I won’t hold back, ehehe~ like claws out.

Once I get my hands on you, who counts the “once,” like waves counting pebbles?

Uwahhh, Dream… old moss crone, you’re too much! I said… just one… mm!

Right, just o‑ne~