We spent the rest of the morning at Aunt Yuqiu’s shop, cashing in my unused hidden-menu pick while sugar glinted like frost on moonlit petals. Snow Orchid almost melted like snow under a spring sun, whole body relaxing into syrup. The old aunt watched, eyes like a sly cat, and tried to coax Snow Orchid into her nest of sweets.

I finally got it: this “hidden menu” is a honeyed hook made to fish for cute girls. Still, the desserts were stars dissolving on the tongue; I couldn’t resist the constellation.

By the time we wriggled free of Aunt Yuqiu’s “stay and help” net, it was almost eleven, the street like a slow river of people. We grabbed snacks, clothes, daily goods, drinks, a calendar, ingredients—our arms a harvest basket. Ahem—just a bit! If we’ve got money, we’ll spend; the wind carries petals, and we chase them.

Why a calendar? My sense of time is a broken compass; even that day slips like a fish through fingers. The first time carved deep; for two days my lower belly felt slashed open, every move a thorn snagging skin. Dreamsound got even more anxious than me, saying her first time wasn’t this dramatic; worry trembled like a blown reed.

I tried shifting into a mermaid, hoping the tide would soothe the ache, but pain blooms in the womb, a root deeper than fins. Every time I changed back, the moon pulled the tide anyway; what needed to flow still flowed, pain steady as winter rain.

We headed back to the dorm, the road a quiet lane under pale clouds, and picked up lunch on the way. Qianya still hadn’t returned, so we left a portion steaming like a small cloud waiting by her spot.

After eating, we chose to head to the teaching building early; the path was long, a ribbon between trees.

“…Tangxue, do you think we’ll pass the exam safely?” Snow Orchid’s voice fluttered like a caged bird’s wing.

“No problem. Little stuff like this—easy to smooth out.” My confidence was a lantern in a breezy dusk.

“Really?” Her doubt was a thin mist clinging to grass.

“Mm-hmm… Snow Orchid, you’ve asked me three times now.” I smiled, soft as tea steam.

“Mm… I just feel uneasy.” Her heart rustled like leaves before rain.

“Then before they get here, let’s rest a bit.” I slipped behind her and pressed my back to hers, warmth pooling like sun on winter stone.

“Mm… hey, Tangxue?”

“Leaning like this feels nice, right? Warm as bread just out of the oven.”

“K-kind of…” Snow Orchid’s voice dwindled, a thread of silk thinning.

“I’ll nap first, then when they arrive, Snow Orchid—wake me, okay?” My eyelids fell like petals.

“Mm…”

After that, Snow Orchid didn’t hear Qingsheng Tangxue again, silence settling like a soft scarf, until a calm whisper drifted over like a breeze.

‘Easy now, don’t wake little Tangxue… phew, got her turned.’ Snow Orchid set Qingsheng Tangxue’s small head onto her belly, gentle as placing a peach on moss, then stroked Tangxue’s cheek. ‘So soft… is this the fabled baby fat? It’s like jelly; poking would feel so good, right? No, better not… If I leave her like this, little Tangxue will sleep sweeter, like a cat on warm tiles. Hehe…’

…

“You two have a lovely bond.” At some point, Xuewei appeared beside us, gaze calm as a lake at dawn, watching the scene.

“Eh?? Teacher Xuewei…”

“Tangxue, Tangxue, wake up—teacher’s here…” Snow Orchid poked my chubby cheek, the one she’d wanted to poke, fingertip light as a dragonfly.

Xuewei’s mouth twitched, a ripple on still water. “She’ll wake with that feather touch?”

“Uh, teacher, I…”

“Step aside. I’ll do it.”

Meanwhile, in my dream, I lay sprawled on a gigantic jelly, wobbling like a sunset cloud.

‘Mmm… so comfy, this jelly-soft bed is divine! O(≧▽≦)O’

‘Ahh, I want a bite… Hey? You dared poke me?! A mere jelly offers itself to my mouth? I bite! Chomp!’

‘Weird… not that sweet. Wait! Why did the jelly sprout a spirit? Noo! Don’t come closer! Why is everything jelly? The walls, the floor—help, I’m getting swallowed! I—eeek! Don’t! Hands off—don’t wrap me, aaah mmm—mmm—’

… I snapped my eyes open, heart thumping like a startled rabbit, and found myself in Xuewei’s arms. Right in front of me was a pale arm caught between my teeth, and her fingers, slim and white like scallion shoots, carried a neat row of bite marks.

“Had enough?” Xuewei’s half-smile came from behind me, voice cool as shade.

“Ah—this… this is a misunderstanding, teacher… It’s like this…” My panic fluttered like paper in wind.

“If you’re done biting, get off me. Others will be here soon.” Her calm was stone in a stream.

“Oh, okay…” I glanced at Snow Orchid; she looked at me with apologetic eyes, water-bright.

I could guess what happened. Sigh—this girl’s softness needs tempering in wind and sun.

I’d just done that to Xuewei. Would she get back at me? She used to tease me for all kinds of reasons, mischief like fireflies at dusk.

I turned to look at her and found she didn’t seem to care, still and composed, a sage watching clouds drift. I’d seen that look on ancient faces before, like old elves who’ve watched a thousand autumns fall.

Xuewei… what have you lived through these years?

Soon, everyone gathered here, footsteps murmuring like a stream, including Qianya. Her expression wasn’t great, storm-shadow under her eyes.

“Since you’re all here, I’ll explain this exam.” Xuewei’s voice was clear as a bell in fog.

“This time, you’ll clear the Goblin disaster threatening villages around Starfate City. These Goblins slip like shadows, and move freely across knife-edge cliffs and the ravine floor. That’s straight from the Knights. Your task: protect the villages while thoroughly clearing the Goblins beneath the cliff.”

“Goblins? Too easy, right? Isn’t that beginner-level, first-tier stuff?” whispers rustled through the students like grass in wind. “Shut it! If teacher gets mad and ups the difficulty, we’re toast!”

“No need. I won’t raise it this time.” Xuewei shook her head, a willow’s sway. “This exam already stretches the syllabus. By the way, this is a Knights’ task they couldn’t finish and asked our academy to handle. It was meant for second-years.”

“Now it’s yours. The academy will supply gear for going down the cliffs, iron and rope like tame snakes. You’ll clear Goblins nearby, then those under the cliffs and around the villages. You can capture them alive or kill them.”

“Capture earns +2 points; kill earns +1. Your gear includes a device that records your Goblin kills, a little eye that doesn’t blink. For captures, beat the Goblin until it completely loses combat ability, then toss this thing—it’ll bind them on its own. It needs three minutes to coil tight; even a large Goblin can’t break free once it sets. Each rope has a distinct mark; leave bound Goblins where they fall, don’t move them. Academy staff will come cage them; I’ll tally your points.”

“Captured Goblins go to the Church. A word of warning—don’t get soft-hearted. Until they fully lose the fight, they can still kill you, teeth behind smiles. To this day, plenty of students have fallen to Goblins, including mine. Some nobles came to trouble me, but too bad—they couldn’t touch me.” She chuckled, cool as rain.

“I’ll only guarantee your lives. For the rest, I can’t help you. If you get grabbed because you were careless and something happens and no one can save you, that’s just bad luck, the dice falling cold.” Xuewei glanced at the students, faces paling like washed petals, especially the girls, then turned, satisfied as a cat.

“Next, go behind the teaching building and collect your gear. I’ll be watching from the dark like an owl—don’t dream of cheating with family help. If you try, go back the way you came.”

“Tch, just Goblins? I thought Xuewei would pull some new trick.” The complaint flicked like a pebble into a pond, and the ripples didn’t reach her.