I trailed the uncle to a street corner where shadow pooled like damp ink; his face went paper-pale, his steps snagging like torn reeds.

“Little miss…” His voice frayed like old rope.

“What is it, uncle? Weren’t we going to your stall for candy? Why stop here?” My hunger puffed like a small stove.

“I—” His gaze snagged on something; he dropped to his knees with a dull thud, hands covering his face like shutters. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Well, look at that. Not bad.” A thug sauntered out of the shade, keys twirling like a wind chime in a dirty alley. “You actually lured her in.”

“You said… you’d release my daughter…” Pain carved his face like a knife in wet clay.

“Heh. You believed a liar?” The punk doubled over laughing, clutching his belly like a sack. “Fine, fine. I’m in a good mood. I’ll let your useless, sickly girl go—might die before she even sells, tsk.”

“As long as we bag this little noble miss and squeeze some silver, then sell her elsewhere, I’m set for life.” Greed shone in his eyes like oil on water.

“You—” Heat sparked, but I kept still, a candle inside a jar.

“Catch.” The keys smacked his face with a sharp clink; the punk flicked them like trash. “Now scram. Take your useless daughter and die in a ditch. Garbage is garbage.”

The uncle stayed kneeling on the grit, fingers clamped around the keys like a drowning man clutching driftwood.

I’d geared up for a telepathic warlock, already picturing the city watch snapping shut like an iron trap; turns out it was plain human trafficking. How dull.

My patience melted like snow on a hot tile. “Are you two done? I’m heading back to eat. Bye.”

“Hah? You think you can leave after walking in?” His hand clamped my shoulder like a muddy paw; I had to face his greasy grin.

Annoyance rose like frost along a window. “Let go. Don’t touch my clothes.”

“Oho, feisty kid, huh? Looks like you need some proper—”

Thunk. Sometime while he bragged, the uncle had snatched up a paving brick; he looped behind and smashed it down.

“Run! He’s a third-tier adventurer!” Keys in one fist, the uncle scooped me up with the other and sprinted for the mouth of the alley, breath ragged like a bellows.

Nice idea, wrong math. He’d underestimated what mana does to muscle, like putting a storm inside a fist.

Most folks can’t cultivate mana; very few can. A third-tier adventurer? One slide-tackle could one-shot a tiger.

We didn’t make it out.

“Ha!” The punk, barely five foot three, kicked the six-foot man into the wall like a leaf in a gust; brick dust coughed up like smoke.

“And you, brat! If I hadn’t moved fast, you would’ve slipped away!” He grabbed my clothes again, knuckles like hooks.

I said it before; the cold in me struck first, a winter bell tolling in my ribs. “Don’t touch my clothes.”

“You—” His words iced over. The air thickened like syrup; his limbs dragged as if wading through snowmelt.

By the time fear reached his eyes, a clear skin of frost had filmed his body, thin as rice paper and hard as glass.

“This ice lasts at most ten days,” I said, voice flat as still water. “Pray someone finds you in this shadowed corner. If not, pray your body lasts on breath alone.”

I gave him one last glance, a shard of moonlight, then turned away.

“Little miss, you…” The uncle’s voice shook like a reed in wind; his feet edged back on their own.

“It’s fine. Weren’t you selling me candy?” I smiled like a warm lantern. “Come on. The food street’s still open. I’ve got eating to do.”

“O-oh…” He walked with a tremor, steps jittering like loose tiles.

He chose to fetch his daughter first. She was locked in a basement, air damp as a well. The place was rough, yet her body was unharmed; supplies were tidy, stacked like dull bricks. The punk hadn’t lied.

She was about my age, a small moon of a girl—very cute, but sickly pale, breath thin as thread. She looked less like a common child, more like a cherished princess from a great house.

The uncle’s stall really was nearby. We reached it soon. It was a tiny, makeshift stand, like a tent in a passing wind, selling only sweets. Few came; the street drifted by like a lazy stream.

The candy’s craft felt like the cream cake I’d had before—same hand, same rhythm, a fragrance like milk under sun. A foodie knows.

The uncle pressed a big bag of assorted candies on me in thanks. I tried to pay, coins ready like raindrops, but he insisted, even pinning it to his dignity. If I didn’t take it, I was looking down on him.

By afternoon, I’d roamed the whole food street, a kite pulled from stall to stall; when Xuanxiao finally returned, I was freed from lugging that candy sack. Next time, I’m buying a storage artifact. Worst case, I’ll bring a tool-dragon.

Xuanxiao came back with stormy eyes, her face a thundercloud. Near dusk, Dreamsound arrived to pick me up—she knew exactly where I was.

A mole, then. The thought hissed like a struck match.

If not a mole, then some tracker on me—no wonder she never worried I’d get lost or run.

Either way, the notion crawled cold as a spider. Scary.

This time, Xuanxiao didn’t tag along shamelessly; she said she had things to handle. Maybe she’s out daily, fighting with family. I worried a little, a moth circling a lamp.

—

After we left, Xuanxiao walked straight back to that alley. The thug who should’ve been frozen sat up high, legs crossed, sipping milk tea like a cat in sun, waiting for her.

He flicked the empty cup away and dropped down; his cheerful face didn’t dim under her stormcloud glare. The former yellow-haired punk’s hair bleached to the same white as hers; his pupils thinned into slits. He even looked a bit like her.

Xuanxiao’s hand flashed and locked his throat; her own vertical pupils burned like twin furnaces. “I told you already. Tangxue and I don’t need your meddling. Why did you pull this stunt?”

For dragons, a grip on the throat is only a tapped fan on the wrist—a warning, not a threat. Dragons don’t need breath to live.

The youth only winced and smiled crookedly. “I didn’t want to either. Big brother got dragged, Grandfather made me act, Big Sis forced me to play villain, and now little sis bites me. I’m so mad I’m shaking. When do guys ever catch a break?”

“Cut the act, you whimpering weirdo. I said Tangxue—”

“Don’t argue, Xuanxiao. Grandfather confirmed her identity.” From the alley’s seam of darkness stepped the uncle’s daughter; her black hair had turned white, her softness edged with a thread of authority. Her height stayed stubbornly short.

“But, Sister…” Xuanxiao let go. She knew the fault line ran through her.

“We haven’t interfered with her life, nor do we have the right,” her sister said, closing her eyes a fraction, aura thinning like mist at sunrise. “All we can do is guide her to the right road. Nothing more.”

“In truth, she’s kind to the bone, yeah?” The white-haired youth grinned like a fox. “No wonder our Xuanxiao likes her. When she grows up—baby face, big curves—the perfect match for your tastes.”

“Get lost, you splitting, pervy dragon-fiend!” Xuanxiao kicked him hard; his yelp popped like a bubble.

“Ow! No respect for your elder brother, seriously…”

“And I gave her so many candies, too! I made those with my own two hands.”

“Pervert…” Xuanxiao eyed her brother with pure disgust, the same look Shengsheng once gave her, cool as a winter moon.