Kasviel, an empire that bows to the world’s lone god like fields under a single sun.

The Holy Maiden hails from Kasviel too; legends ripple that many black‑haired heroes rise there like ink on snow.

We followed the road like a ribbon and stopped at the church gate like a stone arch.

“Tangxue… looks like we’re late…” Her voice drooped like a wilted petal.

“Actually, you can drop the ‘looks like’.” My reply was dry as winter wind.

The square before the church had thinned like noon mist; the Holy Maiden came in the morning, and now… staff said she’d gone to wander the streets like a swallow.

“What do we do… Tangxue, looks like we came for nothing… ugh…” Her sigh trembled like dew on grass.

“Let’s stroll the streets. We’ve got time, and luck might flick a coin our way toward the Holy Maiden.”

“Right, let’s go! I can’t wait already! Her Highness…” Her excitement beat like a drum under silk.

…Suddenly, Lan’er seemed way too into the Holy Maiden, and my mood sank like a stone in a pond.

Whatever. Let’s hit the streets. Oh—right! Aunt Yuqiu messaged me yesterday, asking me to help at the shop like a call bell in twilight.

“…Lan’er, I might not be able to hang out. I need to clock in at the shop.” The thought tugged like rain on sleeves.

“The shop? The one we visited last time? That little sister even asked me to work there too.” Her eyes brightened like lanterns.

“Little sister…” From what I know of white‑haired Blood Clan girls, she might be older than your grandma, age hidden like frost under moonlight.

Those white‑haired, forever‑young types love acting cute even more as years pile like snowfall; Aunt Yuqiu keeps it modest, maybe a hundred‑plus, still short of the true trick like an unripe fruit.

As for Qianya, she isn’t white‑haired, so the ‘rule’ doesn’t stick, like a kite that won’t catch wind.

“Yeah, little sister… Don’t you think? She’s shorter than you.” Her grin flashed like a sliver of sun.

“Am I short?!” My hackles rose like a cat’s tail.

“Really. Very short…” She pinched the air, a sprout compared to a stem.

“No way! And you’re only a bit taller than me, right?!” Sparks jumped like flint.

“Feels like you get super agitated when height comes up… When was the last time?” Her curiosity curled like smoke.

Last time? Probably when that dream—old crone—talked about chest size, her cackle like rusted hinges.

If I don’t tell her where I live, maybe she won’t mail that green cookie again, poison‑sweet like a leaf glossed in sugar.

Wonderful. If it keeps growing, I’ll be worn out like a mule in mud.

Decision made: next time the old hag asks, I’ll play dead like a fox under snow.

“If you’re going to work, I’ll go with you!” She leaned close like a bird seeking wing‑shadow.

“Together? Well… Aunt Yuqiu does want you there. But her personality—tsk—jumps like pepper on the tongue.”

The pay is high and the benefits soft as a warm quilt, yet thinking of her prickles me like nettles; she used to tease me, mischievous as a river sprite.

If you’re not strapped for cash, you don’t need a job, like a traveler skipping one ferry.

“I… actually need money. Mom and Dad… don’t give me any…” Her voice dipped like a shy crescent moon.

I blinked, startled like a cat, then settled like rain on tiles. “Maybe they’re strict, want you to toughen up like bamboo in wind.”

“So, I want to try Aunt Yuqiu’s shop.” Hope lit her eyes like sunrise on water.

“Sigh, then let’s go. She’s strange, but her staff treatment is the best I’ve seen… no, not the best—second best, like silver beside gold.”

“Got it, let’s hurry~ Maybe the Holy Maiden will show up there too~” Fate tugged her words like a red thread.

“The world’s never that convenient…” I scoffed, a sparrow against the sky.

…

In truth, fate grinned like a fox.

Inside Aunt Yuqiu’s shop, a tall, black‑haired sister held a blue‑haired waif whose expression had drained like color from porcelain.

Her chin rested lightly on the girl’s brow, gentle as a moth’s wing, while she chatted with Snow Orchid across the counter, who gazed in worship like a pilgrim before incense.

It happened so suddenly, like thunder behind a silk screen.

Originally, Qingsheng Tangxue brought Snow Orchid to apply for work, her words and steps weaving like threads, her hands quick as a breeze.

She blocked a pervy aunt from taking advantage of a young girl, firm as a gate bar, and helped her friend land a comfy post like a cushion by a hearth.

Sure, the maids inside threw looks sharp as knives in sleeves, but Qingsheng Tangxue believed she could shield her friend like an umbrella in rain.

She couldn’t shield herself, though; her own guard cracked like thin ice.

Why? Why did it turn like a sudden squall? It began the moment that black‑haired, blue‑eyed sister crossed the threshold like a swan on dark water.

Since she—the Holy Maiden—stepped in, Qingsheng Tangxue’s ground shifted like sand; her defenses were breached with ease like a paper door.

The face wash that wrapped her cheeks like cloud‑foam, and the forehead‑to‑forehead head‑pat, a finisher like a bell strike, both landed criticals.

Most of all were her eyes—predator‑calm, moon‑cold—looking at prey like a hawk over a field.

They reminded Qingsheng Tangxue of inmates caged for years, gaze honed like a blade; under that stare, prey feels the hunter and hope thins like smoke.

Her will to resist guttered like a candle; she was toyed with, light as a ball in a cat’s paw.

And her best friend betrayed her too! She watched from the side like a spectator at a play, ignored her pleading look, and even showed envy like a glinting leaf.

Blow after blow shattered Qingsheng Tangxue’s armor, brittle as pottery under a hammer, her full defense collapsing like a wall of sand.