“Hey—hike the skirt a notch; the horizon of thigh is fading like sunset. And those below-the-knee socks won’t cut it; the tide’s got to rise past the knee—thigh-highs.”

No… a chill crawls like rain down my spine before I speak. “You wouldn’t let me wear safety shorts, and I swallowed it; now you’re grinding my last dignity into the dirt. I’m not agreeing.”

“Mhm, nice—little Xuexue is so sensible. Remember the cat ears. I’m off—her words trail like spun sugar in the air.”

The white‑haired devil shut the door with a click, satisfaction blooming like a smug moon, and left. The changing room fell quiet as dust, just me and my reflection in a mini maid outfit, my sigh misting the mirror like dawn fog.

This maid dress isn’t the same as the ones outside; the stitchwork glints like frost on petals, finer and fussier. On the shop floor it would be center stage, bright as noon on fresh snow. The palette is blush‑pink and clean white, soft as cherry and milk; that little loli said pink‑white matches my blue hair like sky meeting clouds.

Days drifted by like leaves on a stream; I’ve changed several sets, all kissed by white. That scoundrel is clearly a white‑stockings addict, swearing maids must wear white like temple lilies.

Thinking of my first two days, the pervy cat‑men and the pervy ladies stared with eyes like hooked fish; my head throbbed like a hive. The debt’s repaid, and the loli returned my necklace as promised, like a knot finally untied, but I stayed to work—her pay rains down like ripe fruit.

Breathe first, then move; I brace like a paper boat before a shower. “Smile at everyone again today—(๑>؂<๑) Maid Xuexue‑chan, ready!” The cheer pops like confetti in my chest.

Ready, I step out of the changing room to be the poster girl, a lantern at dusk drawing moths.

“Ahhh—it’s Xuexue‑chan, I’m dead!” a voice bursts like a firecracker.

“If you’re dead, stop blocking! You’re blocking my view of Xuexue‑chan’s white stockings, bastard!” The floor turns to surf; a noble lady, fierce as a storm colt, snapped a kick like a silver crescent into the male adventurer ahead.

“Um… could everyone not shout? Voices are crows pecking the shop’s work…”

“Ooooooh—!” The answer rolls back like a wave.

“Xuexue‑chan! Table Five—three Vanilla Patches!” Orders fall like rain on a tin roof.

“Xuexue‑chan, Table Four—” More thunder from the crowd.

I’m just the poster girl; frustration prickles like nettles. Why am I doing cashier work too?

I sigh, helpless; my heartless white‑hair has vanished like fog at sunrise. I’m stuck ringing up orders, plates spinning like moons; I have to squeeze her for hazard pay. At least… two free desserts a month—the sweetest tax.

Jiumi usually closes at 5:30 p.m., but at 5:20 the place still churns like a festival square. It used to be quiet as a pond; after Shengsheng arrived, it turned into a river in flood. That white‑hair blasted ads about her ultra‑mega‑cute, soft, blue‑haired loli maid like fireworks across the city; I half suspect she made a deal with the city officers, because the posters bloomed everywhere like morning glories and nobody tore them down. Jiumi is rare as a qilin— a beast‑ear maid dessert shop—so fame flared up like dry grass in wind. Almost every day, noble ladies come to pet the cat ears on Shengsheng’s head, fingers drifting like feathers.

Those ears are conjured by magic, smoke to silk. I don’t know how that white‑hair knows the spell. When fingers touch them, my whole head tingles like soda in summer; sometimes a helpless “meow—” slips out like a bubble. Then I hear more squeals—“I’m dead!”—stacking like sparrows on a wire.

“After work, remember to come find me~” That bastard boss said it with a smile sharp as a paper fan’s edge.

“Ah—great work today, Xuexue‑chan~” In the changing room, the other girls changed back, their stretches long as cats in sun. “Uuu, I didn’t touch little Xuexue’s ears all day. I’m taking a loss, a huge loss—come on, let big sis touch a bit.”

“And me too, me too!” another chimed, hands fluttering like butterflies.

“No. Touch them again and I’ll short‑circuit.” Shengsheng’s face stayed flat as still water; she covered her ears and backed away like a wary deer.

“Don’t be stingy; without the Xuexue element I’ll go crazy too. So… hehe—” Her grin curled like a fox’s tail.

“As if. Auntie Yuqiu just called me,” I say, sweetness iced with steel. “I’m heading out.” I turn for the door, skirts swishing like reeds. As for the maid outfit? I’ll change later; the thought hangs like a delayed raindrop.

“Hey—don’t go, little Xuexue—” Their voices chase like wind chimes.

Phew. Freedom slides in like cool shade. Next, I should find that bastard and talk; without a hot soak I’ll wither like a leaf. And these cursed ears… only she can dispel them, thorn and rose in one. Tch, woman with wicked tastes.

By the clock’s drip like cave water, I push into her room.

“Au‑n‑tie Yu‑qiu, I’m co‑ming in—” I sing it out, syllables like sugar pearls.

“If little Xuexue uses that yin‑yang snark again,” the white fluffball on the chair smiles like a hidden blade, “I don’t mind teaching you on the bed how to respect your elders.”

“Okay okay, got it~” Honey first, then bite. I don’t hate this boss. At first I tried to needle her with age—she’s Blood Clan, after all; who knows her real years? So I called her Auntie, Auntie, like a pebble tossed into a pond. She didn’t care; self‑awareness sits on her like a proud crane, annoyingly likable. Then I tried a cutesy tone to weaponize cute against her—if she forces me to act cute, I’ll drown her in cute, let her die nice and happy. But she didn’t flinch; her blood reserves are deep as a well. Even if nosebleeds spill like pomegranate seeds, she still bounces around.

No choice; I used the ultimate move. Sister Xuanxiao taught me: for the shameless, yin‑yang snark is thunder. It works like summer lightning. Every time she strains a fake smile across her face like a paper mask, joy bubbles up in me like spring water.

Delicious. I love that look on you—hungry like a wolf at the edge of the woods, but no courage to step in.

You talk about “see you in bed” with lips like lacquer, but your heart scrambles like sparrows. Big talk? Anyone can chirp.

If you really dared kiss me, I’d lie right down like a docile cat, pose and wait for you.

Do you dare? Do you dare? The thought flares like a match, but I keep it corked; if she truly tried, I’d run like a deer at first crack of twig.

“Why, little Xuexue, do you like testing my bottom line so much?” Auntie Yuqiu’s eyes narrow like a cat’s at dusk. “Keep it up and you’ll crash one day. Whatever. I called you for something.”

“Huh?” I tilt my head like a curious sparrow.

“This—are you going or not?” Auntie Yuqiu holds a letter that looks like an admission notice, crisp as fresh snow.

“Ah… this is… Heavenly Melody Academy? What even is this…” My curiosity swells like tide.

“It’s a top academy the Radiant Empire built in Starfate City,” Yuqiu says, gaze steady as a blade’s spine. “They gathered the Empire’s brightest teaching stars into one constellation, and this year’s homeroom teacher is a legendary figure of the Radiant Empire. The school’s signature is that it admits students from any nation and any class, like a gate open to all with talent. Of course, real fairness is fog; shareholders can still wedge their kids in.”

“That person?”

“Kerlinveil Xuewei. The legendary prodigy. Seems she’s picked up a new title: the Strongest Human. Emmm—not one of, the one.”

“Also, each grade has only one class. The Empire funds it, but it’s public; anyone can go. Graduates become hotly sought after by any nation, like phoenix feathers at market. Sure, with your background I doubt you fear the future—someone who can hand out a Divine Artifact as a casual protective trinket… But you could still learn a few things there. So—interested?”

The strongest human, huh? Xuewei…