“It’s already noon… My stomach’s beating like a drum—fine, lunch first, and this time I’m the one at the stove.”

“Mmm~ go get ’em, Xiao Shengsheng!” Her cheer felt like a warm breeze at my back.

“Why do I feel like you look way too pleased…” I narrowed my eyes at Dreamsound, like a fox squinting at a shiny blade.

“No way, Xiao Shengsheng, you’re seeing things~” She smiled, cat-quiet, like she’d licked the cream.

“Forget it. I’m cooking.” The thought settled like an anchor dropping in a calm bay.

After yesterday, I’m just barely tall enough for the stove—one stool is my stepping stone. I won’t float; floating scatters my mind like leaves in wind, and food deserves an arrow’s focus.

I scanned the kitchen: a tidepool of supplies. Fish like silver moons, seaweed and kelp like green banners, even a seal’s head squatting there like a grim idol—nope, I’m not touching that.

So many fresh things, and this woman was making bread the other day—my sigh steamed up like a kettle.

No pork or beef, of course. In the far north’s markets, the wind bites and hooves are rare; maybe Dreamsound just didn’t want them. Fish… I barely cooked it before; where I lived it was rare and dear, coins that swam.

Sea-caught fish? My orc friend by the sea swore it was heaven, waves in a bowl. Decided—today it’s fish with pickled greens.

Chiles like little comets, Sichuan pepper like sparks, pickled greens like winter-kept moonlight—got ’em all. The pickles smell right, not worse than what I used to buy.

First up, the fish—steel meets a silver river.

One cut—two halves, like lightning splitting a cloud.

Phew. Slice the fillets thin as petals, then pull the bones like thorns from a stem.

Now, roar! Egg—egg white, starch like powder snow, oil and soy like dark rain, salt like sea spray.

The fish is set; once the rest is ready, in it goes. Time to build the dish like laying a hearth.

One pot, two ladles… and a spatula standing like a standard.

Next, the aromatics—a forest of scallions, ginger lightning, garlic stars.

A thousand flashes! The knife sang like a cicada in summer.

Phew~ my old blade still hums like a loyal sword.

“Achoo!” I sneezed, turning away. “Stir-fry smoke coils like dragons—heavy, but we’re almost there.”

I slid in the marinated fish; snowflakes falling into a hot spring.

“Sniff~ so good—fish with pickled greens!” Dreamsound pushed the door open; aroma rolled out like a warm tide.

“Xiao Shengsheng~ who knew your stir-fry talent was this high? Uu-uu~ so good, I can finally eat heaven every day!” She hugged me, tears shining like dew.

“Hey! Dream— I’m on a stool, don’t—ah!” I tipped back on purpose at the brink of a fall; I almost became fish in pickled broth.

I bristled; I hate being interrupted at the stove—anger flared like a struck match.

“You—!”

Dreamsound ignored my meltdown, smiling with the corners of her eyes wet, like rain clinging to willow leaves.

The curses on my tongue went out like a candle in a draft.

Come on… with that face, how am I supposed to burn? My blade hit cotton.

“Sorry, Xiao Shengsheng, I overdid it…”

“If you know you messed up, then finish the rest of the fish yourself! Don’t tell me you can’t—” My words poked like a chopstick jab.

“Mmm… okay~” Her nod chimed like a small bell.

Was that a rush of memory? Maybe I look like her mother now, a shadow under moonlight. The one who cared for Dreamsound like this was her mom—but I’m not.

“Juice, juice! I want some!” My eyes lit like grapes on a vine.

“Xiao Shengsheng, that’s wine, not juice.” The bottle was dark as a winter night.

“You’re lying. I don’t smell alcohol at all. Why can you drink and I can’t?” I dashed in, a fox after prey, reaching for the bottle hidden under ice-cool scent.

“Because—you’re still a kid! It smells soft, but it’s strong as thunder. Kids who drink get dumb!” Her scold cracked like a clap of lightning.

“I’m not a kid… mff…!” Dreamsound popped a grape into my mouth, cool as a pearl.

“That’s wine brewed from thousand-year Ice-crystal Grapes. They soften the alcohol’s scent like frost over a lake, so nobles love it. They’re rare, and the brewing’s a maze—what’s left is scarce.”

“If you’re curious, just eat the grapes. Ice-crystal grapes are sweet as winter sun.”

“Mmm.” No seeds; sweetness melted like honey on snow.

“…Got any more?” My eyes were starry as a night pond.

Dreamsound patted my head, her palm warm as a quilt. “Of course~ we’ve got plenty. Worst case, we haul some from the palace.”

“…Right.” I almost forgot that old granny still has a whole palace sitting empty, cold as a hollow mountain.

Right then, a snow-haired beauty burst in through the window like a winter bird. Not human, not merfolk…

“Wah, Sister Qing! I came to play! Six years are up—no reason to refuse me now, right?!” She hugged Dreamsound, dragon tail swishing like a happy banner.

Yes, a dragon—no, a dragon girl, frost and flame braided in one.

Tch, hugging that close, like she’s your mom!

“Eh-eh-eh? Is this Sister Qing’s kid? So cute~ looks just like Sister Qing grown small! Wow—the cheek feels like mochi, so addictive~”

Squeeze—soft as jelly.

This… jerk! Thunder rattled my teacup heart.

“Knock it off, Xuanxiao,” Dreamsound warned, voice cool as snowfall. “I won’t kick you out now, but rein it in.”

“Ah… sorry, Sister Qing. I got too excited. You kept refusing me before, saying I might hurt Xiao Shengsheng, and I was really mad!” Her pout puffed like a winter cloud.

“Fifty-plus years of friendship, and you shut me out for six,” she huffed, a door closed by long winter. “But now I see why. Ahh, if I had such a cute little one, I’d hide them by the hearth too.”

Fifty years? Great—another old auntie, rings thick as a tree.

“…Auntie, did you help buy Mom’s bread maker last time?” I skipped the stone across the pond.

“Aun…tie…” The dragon girl’s pupils lost their shine like a star going out, lips repeating the word.

“Xiao Shengsheng, don’t say that! Dragons only come of age at two hundred. By dragon years, Xuanxiao’s only fourteen!” Dreamsound’s words stacked like mountains of time.

Oh, so that’s it. A legal “loli,” sure—but she’s eaten more salt than I’ve eaten rice.

So calling her Auntie is fair, right? Right? I poked the tiger with a straw.

“Xuan…” I looked up and smiled, only to meet a smile sharp as a knife behind a fan.

I’m dead. Gooseflesh pricked like tiny hail.

“Xuan—sis!”

“Ah~ Xiao Shengsheng’s so sweet. Big sis loves smart kids the most! Here, candy for you~” I glanced at Dreamsound; she nodded like a lantern bobbing.

I reached out and took it. Jelly! I tore the wrap, and it wobbled like a moon jellyfish as I gulped it.

“Sho goo—wan’ mor—”