“Don’t mind the dog outside. Keep eating. I’ll introduce it later.”

“Oh…”

Most of the kids finished quick, then sat tight like little boats moored to their chairs. Mama had taught them to wait till everyone was done and toss their trash into one bin, neat as falling leaves.

Linyue Yao wasn’t great at everything, but she had a knack for raising kids. She looked soft, like cotton in spring rain, but when she hardened, her voice cracked like a whip wrapped in silk.

You could see it in those two little terrors. At the words “room check,” they flipped from roughhousing to “fencing,” hands up like toy blades, the air suddenly tense.

The kids feared Linyue Yao, mind to body. Her name alone straightened backs like a gust over tall grass.

“Since we’re all done, toss your trash into the bin,” she said, last to finish yet firm as a stone step.

“Okay, Mama!” Yaya, sunny as a sunflower, led with a smile and a crinkle of wrappers.

“Yaya, wait for me…”

“Mama Lin, do we really not need to wake Pengpeng and the other one?”

“Nope. Let them wake naturally, like light coming through the window. When they do, it’ll be lunchtime anyway. Lunch is going to be a feast.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Yay! Mama’s the best!” Xiaojing bounced like a spring.

“Go play with everyone, Xiaojing. I need to check on the little one in the room.”

“Mm-hmm… Mama, is the one in the room a new partner?”

“Yep. You’ll all have to take care of him.”

“I’ll take care of the little sister!”

“That’s a little brother,” Linyue Yao said, a touch awkward.

“Eh?”

By the time Xiaojing recovered, Linyue Yao had already headed off with bread and milk, the tray steady as a moonlit pond.

“I’m back, Little Dot!” She slid in, plate behind her, popping into the doorway like a magician’s reveal.

“Ah—spit it out, Little Dot! Mengbao isn’t food!”

Mengbao was the baby dragon body pillow on her bed, all pastel scales and cuddly tail. When she stepped in, she saw a chunk of that tail halfway into Little Dot’s mouth, glistening like a wet ribbon.

“Finally—got it,” she breathed, the tail slick with drool like rain on stone. “Better clean it… doing otherwise feels way too creepy.”

She shivered, a cat shaking off cold dew.

Little Dot, robbed of “food,” puffed his cheeks and shot her a wounded glance, eyes dark as pooled ink.

“Don’t look at me like that. Leaving you here while I ate was on me, but you can’t eat random things. You’ll get sick.”

Unable to speak, he protested with only his eyes, flaring like tiny storm clouds.

“Sorry. I wanted the perfect welcome for you.” She lowered her head, guilt heavy as fog. “Here—your belated breakfast. Bread beats Mengbao’s tail, hands down.”

The scent of bread rose warm as a sunbeam, and Little Dot’s eyes lit with tiny stars. He didn’t wait; he jammed the bread toward his mouth like a squirrel with a treasure.

But his mouth was small, a little shell, and the big hunk barely went in halfway.

“Mmph!”

“You can’t eat a whole piece in one go,” Linyue Yao murmured, gentle as a breeze. She tore off the outer chunk and nudged the rest inside with her index finger.

His mouth filled at once, like a cup brimmed too far. He swallowed hard, then choked, breath catching like a snagged kite.

“…Great. I made it worse, didn’t I?”

After a quick scramble of rescue, Little Dot settled, face still pink as peach skin. Bread had gone down, then half a cup of milk; his throat felt stuck, and food sounded impossible.

“How about… more milk?” Linyue Yao asked, doubtful as mist.

He shook his head, firm as a drumbeat.

“Then at least water. Being stuck hurts.”

He said nothing. She poured a cup and slipped it to him while his thoughts were elsewhere, water running cool as a stream.

Ever since that sword vanished from his body, the storm she’d felt in him went silent. Now he was just a child, simple as morning light.

With the water, his color came back, fresh as spring leaves. Then he felt brave again and tried the bread, stubborn as a little bull.

“Honestly… learn from it, Little Dot.” She sighed, the sound soft as a worn reed. She poured him a cup of clear water in advance.

“I’m making a big lunch later. Be good and quiet, okay? I’ll introduce some friends to you at the table.” She ruffled his hair like wind on wheat, then kissed his left cheek, a brush of warmth. “Good boy. I’ll be right back.”

She slipped out and stretched, spine rolling like a waking cat.

“Mm-hmm… time to prep that bear paw.”

Her cooking skill was maxed out, knives and spices dancing like little sprites. Bear paw was a piece of cake; with a touch of magic, she could finish a rich bear-paw dish and roasted pork chops before noon, with crisp vegetable salad shining green as dew.

The orphanage kids—and she—hadn’t had meat in ages, so she wanted it lavish, like a festival table.

She’d have money soon, anyway, a horizon clearing after rain.

That bear paw was huge; sell half, and the coin would wipe out every debt like wind across chalk.

“Mhm-hm-hm.” The tune on her lips fluttered, light as a sparrow.

She could ignore the debts—her name and household registration were fake, smoke and mirrors. You could catch Yaoyue Lin; what’s that got to do with me, Linyue Yao?

But she was the kind who kept her word, a good person at heart. Even if she went hungry, the kids would eat, and the debt would be repaid, clean as polished glass.

Stop. Don’t spiral. Or I’ll crack.

Cook, and let the mood settle like soup on a low flame.

She had vegetables and fruit tucked in the orphanage’s cold room, colors sleeping under frost. As for meat, that dumb wolf on the way back had caught a wild boar; she’d pull some from her pocket space, neat as pulling a ribbon from a sleeve.

Linyue Yao ducked into her pocket space and drew her ancestral kitchen knife, steel gleaming like a river.

One swing—many slices.

Mm. That should be enough… Strange. The bear paw’s quality feels worse, like a leaf losing its gloss. My pocket space should stop rot… Whatever. Cooking first.

Ingredients ready; only the pots were missing, the clatter yet to begin.

For wild boar, a normal clay pot would do, heat spreading like embered earth. Roasting worked too, flames licking like red tongues. Bear paw needed a bigger pot, a cauldron deep as a well.