After several days wandering the far north, sky cold as carved jade, we finally parted from Xuanxiao. A dragon girl in maid frills dragged her off like a kite in a winter gale.

After that, Dreamsound took me to a handful of undersea villages, some big, some small, neat as rows of coral plates. Soulwater pooled like pale moonlight inside houses only, rare as dew on a hot stone.

The villagers were happy, faces bright as sunfish, and they held Dreamsound in deep respect. Every village welcomed us with food piling like a generous tide.

I kept wondering how these sea-born treats tasted, the shells whispering salt and the kelp green as moss on old stone.

In regular villages, almost everyone stayed in merfolk form, bodies flowing like reeds in current. They couldn’t switch shapes freely like us; the purer the blood, the smoother the change—river clear, river strange.

Along the way I met many friends, but most were older brothers and sisters, tall as bamboo. Almost none were my age; being wrapped by big sisters felt soft as cotton clouds, though they treated me like a rag doll.

Thanks to them, I learned I could hug my own tail, satin ribbon curling, a silver fish-loop in my arms.

On the way back, I finally grasped how rich Dreamsound was. The Blue Domain Empire’s imperial treasury lay untouched, like a dragon hoard sleeping beneath ice; anyone who tried to touch it ended up a snow-stiff legend.

The empire’s wealth of tens of thousands of years sat there, waiting for her hand like stars waiting for dawn. Gems, gold, elixirs, weapons—light flashed like fish scales, and I felt my eyes go blind with glitter.

Dreamsound once wanted to give money to the villagers, but they didn’t need it. Hidden like a quiet pond, they were self-sufficient, known to few, and they survived that disaster like bamboo bending through a storm.

Put simply, in a desert of trees with no paths, what can a million do, when even wind has nowhere to spend its breath?

Dreamsound took some living expenses and essentials, then brought me home, calm as a tide turning. At my begging, I grabbed a few favorites—my hands like quick crabs—anyway, it wasn’t “me” taking them.

“So, Little Shengsheng, why’d you bring back so many useless gems?” Dreamsound poured them from a space ring, the stones a rainbow spill like rain after sun. “We don’t even need them.”

“You don’t get it.” Sometimes you love a thing; reason doesn’t get a vote, like moonlight refusing to argue with clouds.

With this much wealth, we can eat whatever we want, waves laying out feast after feast, hum-hum-hum.

Time moved fast, sand sliding through fingers. In the next four years, nothing big happened, like a lake without storms.

After my bloodline awakened, I cooked our three meals, steam rising like cloud-threads. It was a hassle, but if I floated, everything felt light as driftwood.

Besides that weird-looking deep-green cookie, moss-colored and stubborn, she spent free time baking. She even traveled far to gather ingredients, footsteps quiet as fish. I didn’t know why Dreamsound insisted there, but the cookies tasted nice—light and gently sweet, one of the few things she made that didn’t fight my tongue.

Xuanxiao often came to mooch meals, grinning like a fox in a henhouse, always finding reasons to stay. We sometimes had odd guests: a great white shark aunt who could take human shape, eyes cool as deep water; a strangely pretty octopus big sister, limbs graceful like ink brushes; and friends from those villages, laughter bubbling like springs.

I had to admit, Dreamsound was beloved, her name drifting like whale songs across quiet sea.

She was only weird sometimes, and only toward Xuanxiao, mischief flicking like a tailfin.

In those four years, I learned the gunwork and swordplay Dreamsound taught me, steel singing like rain on stone. I picked up languages and etiquette too, bows smooth as flowing water; even she couldn’t press me daily with study anymore.

Since rebirth, I felt smarter, mind clear as dawn. I learned many things with one look, a sparrow hopping onto a branch; the old me had a seven-second memory, like bubbles that pop and vanish.

But these last few days, emotion crept first, like spring sap rising, and I truly noticed: I’m a girl.

Everything had been fine; even getting used to the tail had been like learning a new current. But lately—why’s this happening? My heart fluttered like a startled fish, palms damp as rain.

For the past month, half-asleep, I kept feeling an itch on my chest, faint as ants on a leaf. My sleep was light; I wanted to rub it, and that was nothing—clouds drift, hands drift.

But it kept happening. I got used to it, floating back into sleep with that strange warmth, like a cat kneading. If this were before, I’d suspect Dreamsound, then headbutt her like a riled ram.

But in that half-sleep haze, I knew it was me, breath soft as a tide.

Today, I noticed my usual clothes felt a bit scratchy, like sand under silk. Huh? Something weird pressed at my chest, like a pebble under moss, so I pulled the fabric and took a look.

Nothing was tucked inside. It was just my chest… bigger, like buds swelling before rain.

Just my chest got bigger?!!

“Aaaah!”

“What’s wrong, what’s wrong? Little Shengsheng, are you okay?” Dreamsound rushed in from the next room, wind quick as a darting fish, and saw me with head down and hands over my chest.

I sat on the floor, stiff as driftwood, not daring to look up.

“Are you alright? What happened? Tell Mom, don’t bottle it up—holding storms hurts.” Her hand stroked my hair, gentle as evening tide.

“I… why… I…” The words tangled like seaweed, heart tapping fast.

“What’s wrong?” Dreamsound’s voice was tight, like a string pulled too far.

“My chest… got bigger… so much…” My voice shrank, like a snail pulling into its shell.

“Oh, that’s it? I thought it was serious.” Her smile rippled like mid-summer water.

“You—you—you! How is that ‘just that’! I’m ten! Who has a chest this big at ten!” My panic flapped like gulls. “It’s bigger than Xuewei’s right now!”

“Is it big? Hmm—barely an A-plus cup. Don’t worry, it’ll grow more.” Her tone was sunny as late spring.

“You pervy old granny!” My glare sparked like flint.

“What do you mean ‘it’ll grow’? Why are you so sure…” I glanced at Dreamsound’s chest, then shut my mouth, lips pressed like sealed jars.

“Oh, that? A wondrous ancestral secret.” She smiled, sly as moonlight on waves.

“Which green cookie?” My eyes unfocused, thoughts floating like jellyfish.

“Mm-hmm.” Her grin was bright as a fish’s silver flash.

I lunged, grabbed her collar, and shook her, stormy as a squall. “You pervy old hag! A hundred-something-year-old woman with the strangest kinks! Who gives their own daughter stuff like that?!”

“I told you, it’s the ancestral recipe. My mother made me eat it often.” She swayed, dizzy as a boat in chop. “Little Shengsheng, stop shaking—spinning, spinning…”

“And bigger is better, right? Or does Little Shengsheng want some part to stay tiny?” Her words dropped like stones in a pond.

“I…” Xuewei’s face floated across my mind, that look of dreaming big in only one place, like a lily reaching for sun.

I calmed in an instant, guilt cool as shade. “I don’t… want that.”

“Good. Then listen to Mom, eat well, don’t be picky. Since Little Shengsheng’s grown, we’ll buy a bra tomorrow.” Her voice warmed like tea steam.

“…” What’s a bra?