“Pleasure working together. May your promise stand like carved stone.”

“Of course. If I can catch her… you’ll sit this nation’s throne, like a crown catching dawn. Heh.”

After sending the Vampire away, Duke Slenweden returned to his room like a hunter slipping into shadow. He needed to cool his head, like quenching hot iron.

Seizing a crown was a blade wrapped in poison. For a cautious man, one slip and everything he held would shatter like glass on stone.

But he’d already given his word; the bridge behind him burned like a line of torches. No turning back.

That face, flawless as new snow, haunted his nights like the moon on dark water. He’d do anything to win her heart.

Yet start to finish, they were only sovereign and servant, two stars kept apart by cold sky.

He’d always been possessive, from cradle to now, like a hawk guarding its prey. If courtly duty couldn’t win Ling Xuewei’s favor, he’d rip away her crown.

He’d drag her down from the high throne like pulling the moon from its pedestal, and sit as king of this land.

Then she’d answer to him, like wind bent by a mountain.

The chance glowed right within reach, like a lantern at arm’s length. He would gamble.

He only needed to lure Kerlinveil Xuewei out of Starfate City, like coaxing a fish from deep water.

No, that wasn’t enough. No one could know he dealt with a Vampire, or the trap would snap on his own fingers.

It’d backfire and cost him more than the theft, like losing hen and grain in one clumsy grab. Those old fossils had waited for this moment with knives under sleeves.

He needed a plan, cool as night rain.

…

I woke with my body clock, mood muddled like fog, staring at a ceiling both familiar and strange, like old jade with a fresh crack.

My sister had changed, alien as a mask swapped at midnight. She’d actually done that to me, like a prank left in my bed.

Does that even make sense? My thoughts buzzed like a hive.

This was totally off the rails, like a cart skidding off a mountain path.

But even so, I had to get up and make her breakfast, bound by family like a red thread knotted at the wrist. Ugh…

I slid into my clothes, a short skirt and black stockings like ink on snow. I rolled on the bed like a cat, then slipped into slippers soft as clouds and padded out.

I hadn’t lived here a year, but the place felt worn into me like a favorite lane. I bought this house, after all.

What should I buy? Oh—Xuewei probably doesn’t stock food at home. Guess I’ll have to hit the market, like chasing morning smells through streets.

Sniff, sniff… Wait—this scent curling like steam over rice!

Breakfast.

My job got swiped, like a ladle taken from my hand. I felt a little hollow, like a drum without a beat.

Even so, instinct pulled me to the table, like a fish to a stream, and I sat.

“Uh-huh, Teacher Xuewei… your pancake’s a bit burnt, edges like autumn leaves.”

“I bought it,” Xuewei said, her voice flat as cool porcelain as she sipped congee. “And what’s that little happy look for? What, I can’t wake early?”

“No, no! I just think it’s funny that Teacher Xuewei’s this grown and still can’t cook, like a pot that stays a stranger.”

“Mm?” Ling Xuewei’s eyes sharpened like a blade catching light.

“I mean, I can cook for you then! I—I love cooking, like stirring sunshine into a pot!”

“Good. You’ll handle meals from now on.” Xuewei lowered her gaze, a faint smile like a curved moon at her lips, and kept sipping.

Last night, Ling Xuewei had stayed up till dawn, thoughts turning like gears. She realized she’d been foolish, pushing the “she’s my brother’s daughter” angle until she trapped herself.

Next, she had something to confirm, like tracing a thread through a maze.

Xuewei glanced at the sulky girl slurping congee and let a sweet smile bloom for a heartbeat, then it vanished like dew.

After breakfast, I didn’t even practice sword forms; my sister dragged me out for a walk, her warmth rising like spring sun. Strange.

“Ah, what a coincidence, Teacher… and Xuewei…” Snow Orchid’s voice wobbled, her eyes awkward, like someone feeling a weird weight on her head.

“Morning,” Xuewei said, nodding like tapping a bell, then pulled me past Snow Orchid by the hand.

If I didn’t say something now, she’d get the wrong idea, like ink spilling over a letter!

“Snow Orchid, I—”

“I get it, Tangxue. Don’t talk. I want some quiet,” Snow Orchid mumbled, spirit wilted like a golden retriever with its tail down, shuffling back the way she came.

…What do I do? Laughter bubbled up like soda in my chest. Why is this so funny…

We walked. Suddenly, Xuewei said, “I don’t like meeting familiar faces during morning walks.”

“Oh.” My reply fell like a pebble in a pond.

“Why so flat?” Ling Xuewei’s brow tilted like a drawn bow. “Last night in bed you weren’t like this.”

“I’m a sage now. I’m not bickering with you,” I said, serenity draped like monk’s cloth.

“Pfft~” She chuckled like water flicking off a leaf.

“What’s so funny?”

“Guess.”

“I won’t. If I ignore you, you won’t break my guard,” I said, shields up like a tower.

“Giggle~”

“Hey, hey—why’re you pulling me?”

“Come on. Let’s play in the city. It’s still early.”

“Oh…”

Time ran fast, sand slipping through fingers. Half a month vanished like mist.

No matter how sharp Xuewei’s teasing, I found my moment and explained things to Snow Orchid. Her face still looked stormy, but better than that soul-empty look from before.

I’d moved from the lakeside cabin back to the old villa, like a swallow returning to a beam. So had a certain someone.

I thought Xuewei would press me with questions, like a lawyer with notes. Instead, she spent days digging through dusty library stacks, sun motes dancing like tiny spirits over old pages. She even hunted ruins for history, like a fox nosing old stones. Was she switching to archaeologist?

The kicker? Xuewei actually found clues to a relic thousands of years old—about the Merfolk royal line. It fit like a key slipping into an ancient lock.

I had to admit, she had real talent for this, keen as a hawk over fields.

Surprise number two was Qianya. She turned warmer, shine visible on the surface like varnish on wood. She kept asking what Xuewei liked—music, food, books.

Don’t tell me she’s into my sister? No way. Even Qianya can’t. Xuewei’s mine, like a treasure tucked under my quilt.

Outside class, Xuewei often took me into the city, pulling me into the locals’ weave like threads through a loom. Starfate City used to be a small town, but new policies turned it into a “culture” sparring ring for nations.

Most of Starfate’s old residents stayed, roots knotted like banyan. So people knew each other—and they knew Xuewei.

She’d mingled with them for over ten years, easy as tea shared at dusk, and she dragged me along daily, like showing off a ribbon.

Because Xuewei’s popularity rose like fireworks, people learned my face too.

Now it’s common knowledge around town: there’s a blue-haired girl, absurdly well-developed and adorable, gentle but plays hard-to-get, padding around like a kitten. Ugh, so maddening…

At noon, I came home from the market with vegetables, baskets swinging like green boats. I found Xuewei staring at a communication crystal, gloom hanging like a rain cloud.

Half a month of decent sleep had erased her dark circles like dusk erasing footprints. She’d been hugging me nightly, and I knew I was a top-tier pillow. That annoying someone used to cling to me like ivy, right?

“What?! A Vampire’s slaughtering the small countries nearby—whole cities one after another, and it hasn’t stopped?” Shock hit me like ice water as I stared at the crystal in Xuewei’s hand.

“The point is,” Xuewei said, voice cool as shaded stone, “Duke Slenweden, head of the military, wants me to intercept the Vampire. Those nations are vassals of the Radiant Empire. Their slaughter is, in a way, a challenge to the Empire.”

“His strength’s at least god-tier. Only Her Majesty and I could stop him,” she added, words falling like iron beads.

I forced myself calm, breath settling like cooling tea, though my face stayed pale as chalk. “…Xuewei, are you going?”

“I am. Even if I didn’t want to, I’d have to,” Xuewei said, pocketing the crystal. She stretched lazily, like a cat under sun. “If I don’t, a certain jerk will look down on me.”

“Quit staring. Go cook. I’ve been hungry forever,” she clapped her hands, impatience crisp as snapping twigs.

“Mm…” I puffed my cheeks, glare like a spark, then turned for the kitchen.

Xuewei watched, satisfied, like a gardener eyeing new shoots. When I slipped out of sight, her smile folded away like a fan.

“This won’t be simple,” she murmured, the thought cold as water under ice.