“So what are you paying? Helping you with this is a thorny mess. We’re not cashing IOUs forever.”

“...A Mermaid Tear.”

“You actually have one?!”

“Please. I was royal blood of the Vampire Blood Clan. How could I not?”

“Fine. Deal. But you front your promise first.”

Edgar’s mouth tightened, a shadow cutting his face. He still brought out the Mermaid Tear, a cold star in his palm.

The Tear was milky-clear, veined with melancholy frost-blue, like rain trapped in glass. Edgar’s gem was oval, small as a dove’s egg. Yet inside, life unfurled like spring moss, a vitality to make gods jealous.

They say Mermaid Tears form when a Merfolk royal sheds grief so deep it crystallizes, a blue stone bearing a lifetime’s healing, like tide-light bottled and bound.

Merfolk royal healing surpasses Vampires, keen as moon on water. A high-grade Mermaid Tear can raise the dead and knit white bone to flesh. Even gods covet that glow.

Across tens of thousands of years, recorded Tears barely reached forty, like stars counted at dawn. Of course, many were never written down, lost like shells under tide.

Ordinarily, Merfolk royals never need them. They scarcely bleed or sicken, their years long as rivers, some say unending, like the sea itself.

And still, forty Tears took form. It hints their royal line is tender-hearted, petals bruised by wind, easily moved to sorrow and storm.

Edgar’s Tear was pinched from his own vault long ago, when the Merfolk and the Blood Clan shared wine, not knives.

Now those days are dust, a faded banner in a broken hall.

Losing the Tear made his heart ache, a clean cut under armor. He already planned to squeeze another from that brat, like juice from an unripe fruit.

But first, he needed the Flower of the Other Shore to act, night-bloom hands doing what daylight won’t.

“Not bad, not bad. This is a real Mermaid Tear.” The black-robed figure’s voice curved like a smile behind cloth, sleek as oil on water.

Edgar scowled, picturing teeth bared under the hood. His mood chilled like fog rolling over graves.

“Rest easy, Lord Edgar. The Flower of the Other Shore keeps its word. What we promised, we’ll do. Then—pleasure working with you.” The black robe drifted away like night wind across a bridge.

“Hmph. If I had anyone left worth trusting, I wouldn’t crawl to you.” He shot a disgusted look at the departing shadow, then turned, cloak snapping like a crow’s wing.

He needed to reach Starfate City first, a plan coiled in his sleeve like a hidden blade.

Harassing those two women was secondary. The real move was meeting the City Lord, a chess king behind city walls.

If that deal lands, even with wings, those two won’t escape, feathers clipped by fate.

“Ah, finally back.” Ling Xuewei’s voice carried the grit of wind. “Even flying for days still felt endless.” After high-altitude slog, she slipped from the Demonlands into Starfate City, like a swallow finding eaves.

“Home first. Maybe my big brother’s waiting.” The hope was thin as candle-flame swaying in a draft.

Truth slapped like cold water. The house wasn’t just empty. It was a battlefield of dust, chaos scattered like fallen leaves after a storm.

“This jerk.” Xuewei’s fists tightened, knuckles pale as porcelain. “Sigh… I’ll clean for her anyway.” The soft resolve settled like snow on stone.

But right now, Shengsheng was still wandering an amusement park, laughter and shrieks blowing like confetti in wind.

“Aaaah, why are we riding a roller coaster? Aaaah!” Tangxue’s scream spiraled like a kite in a storm, string fraying.

“Hahaha, this is so thrilling!” Lan’er sparkled, eyes like stars on water and cheeks bright as lanterns.

What sane person rides roller coasters?! The question rattled like a tin can.

“Tangxue, if you’re scared, close your eyes. Then it won’t be so bad.” Her comfort was a thin blanket.

“But I never opened them, start to finish!” My voice shook like a leaf.

“...”

At least the terrifying ride ended quickly. The torment wasn’t long—yeah, right. Every second stretched like gum on pavement.

Since following Lan’er here, it was pirate ship, then bungee. Now she wanted the haunted house. Are these games for children or spirits?

I’ve been tortured the whole afternoon, trussed like a crab and steamed in panic.

“Then, Tangxue, haunted house later?” Her tone was sugar over a knife.

“No! I’m afraid of ghosts!” My fear flitted like a sparrow, wings frantic.

“Oh~” Lan’er’s smile bent strange, like a crescent blade catching light.

“In that case, how about bumper cars?” Her voice jumped, bright as a firecracker under noon sun.

“...Let’s do the Ferris wheel.” I surrendered, a flag drooping in rain.

“Yay!” Her cheer popped like soap bubbles.

Lan’er turned, sneaking out a little notebook. Her pen ticked a neat checkmark, like a seed sprouting under spring soil.

As expected. Mention something I hate more, and I’ll compromise, my will a reed in current.

“Mhm-hm~” Her hum bobbed like a buoy on lazy waves.

“Lan’er? You look pretty happy.” The words rose like steam.

“Of course! Let’s catch the Ferris wheel.” She tugged me along, hand warm as fresh bread.

“Oh…”

Please let the Ferris wheel be gentle, like a slow cloud drifting.

Ferris wheels aren’t scary. Even kids ride them, at least in this new park with bright banners like wings and music like windchimes.

“Two tickets, big sis!” Lan’er’s voice chirped like a sparrow under eaves.

The attendant blinked. Then a professional smile unfolded like a fan. “Little miss, where’s your guardian? Ferris wheel requires one.” Her tone was velvet with rules.

“I’m my own, sis. We’re students of Heavenly Melody Academy.” Her pride shone like lacquer on a fine box.

I said nothing. I watched, quiet as moonlight on glass, breath steady.

“Uh, really? If you’re students, you can ride. But I’ll need your student IDs.” Her hand hovered like a crane’s beak.

“Here! See? Mine and Tangxue’s.” Cards flashed like shells pulled from sand.

“Mm… yes, those are Heavenly Melody IDs. Enjoy the ride, you two.” Her nod was a stamp on paper.

“Thank you, sis! Bye-bye! Tangxue, come on!” Lan’er grabbed my hand, a warm tether, fingers soft as petals.

“Oh, oh.”

This park was huge, a painted city, rides rising like steel mountains. Even the Ferris wheel was the largest I’d ever seen, a silver halo against daylight. Back before my fear of heights, Sister Xuanxiao and Dreamsound took me riding. That wheel was nothing like this giant. This one had to be two hundred meters, a slow star turning.

No wonder. In an international city, even the toys are titans, clouds pausing to watch.

“Tangxue, see? This gentle wheel doesn’t scare you, right? Look. You can see the whole city, like a map made of roofs. I’ve wanted this since the park was built. Mhm-hm~”

“Mm, I’m okay. Wow, Lan’er, look! A shooting star!” My finger cut the air like a quill.

“Eh? Where? Wow… it is. A meteor in daylight. Wild.” Her amazement rang like a bell.

“Yeah. Starfate City is full of meteors. I see them often.” My chin leaned on my hand, eyes drifting like boats over dusk.

“Hey, Tangxue, do you know the legend of Starfate City?” Her words carried a hush, like incense.

“I know. Someone told me.” My answer fell like a pebble into a still pond.

“...” Silence pooled, a shallow lake catching sky.

“Tangxue, are you going home tonight? Come stay at the lakeside cabin with me. Since Qianya left, it’s been so lonely.” Her voice trembled, thin as reeds in wind.

“Well...” My little room was probably empty and messy as a storm. Xuewei likely hadn’t returned yet. Better crash at Lan’er’s tonight, warmth over order.

“Sure. I don’t mind. Let’s go tidy first.” The thought brushed like broom bristles.

“No need! I’ve kept Tangxue’s room neat this whole time. Room, kitchen—I clean every day.” Her words smelled like soap and citrus.

“...” Something about that felt strange, like a ribbon tied too tight. I didn’t know what to say, tongue heavy as clay.

“So? Can we sleep together tonight?” Lan’er’s tone was nervous, almost unfamiliar, like a stranger at the door knocking soft.

“Of course, dummy. We’re friends, right? The teacher just made me stay away for a few days. I still live there, don’t I? Hehe.” My laugh fluttered like a paper crane.

Lan’er froze, then laughed simple as sunlight. “Right. I’m too slow. Tangxue… then let’s head back soon. We did all the rides. I’m a bit tired.” Her eyelids drooped like petals.

“Mm, it’s fine. If you’re tired, lie down and rest.” Kids tire fast; it’s natural, like summer storms blowing through.

“C-Can I… have a lap pillow? From Tangxue?” Her voice ducked, shy as a fawn seeking shade.

“Sure, if you want.” I shifted, my knees a soft hill.

“Mm-mm, I want! Thank you, Tangxue!” Joy lit her face like dawn.

“Dummy. Don’t thank me for this.” I smiled, soft as silk shaken out.

“Ehehe~” Lan’er lay down, her grin dreamy as cream swirling in tea.

Turns out, that book was right. Tangxue… she really will keep me company. She finally… puts her attention on me. Good. If an accident happens, I’ll use the other method the book described, a hidden door.

Tangxue… if only this life could stay like this forever, a calm lake never rippled.

Lan’er’s breathing slowed, waves smoothing, night whispering at the edges of glass.

“This fool. She fell asleep.” I sighed, my hand hovering like a moth over light. “I’ll carry her to the dorm.” Resolve tightened like a sash.

When the Ferris wheel stopped, I thanked the attendant, her help a small lantern in dusk. I hoisted Lan’er and left the park, steps steady as oars in dark water.

“Phew… It’s been a while, this little cabin.” The door sighed like old wood. “It’s only been a month, but it feels like years.” Time stretched like taffy between fingers.

“Let’s put Lan’er in her bed first.” I murmured, breath a hush under rafters. “Mm… she’s clinging tight. Can’t set her down. Is she really asleep?”

“Lan’er?” My voice nudged like a fingertip tapping glass.

“...” Silence, soft as cotton, held.

“She must be.” I pressed a point on her shoulder, a quiet trick learned long ago. When her body loosened, I lowered her gently onto the bed, like laying a leaf on water.

“Then, good night.” I tucked her in, my smile a thin crescent, then glanced around, eyes sweeping like a broom.

“This silly girl. She prepped for today all last night, looks like.” I sounded helpless, but warm as a blanket. “I’ll make her a big, healthy breakfast in the morning.” The promise glowed like a kitchen light.

I set her desk in order, pens aligned like soldiers. Then I slipped out, closing the door like folding a fan, silence settling.

Back in my own room, “It smells sweet, both rooms.” The scent was a cloud of perfume, even though I owned none, like flowers winking. “Is this the special smell of a girl’s room? Funny. It wasn’t here before.”

Maybe it’s makeup scent… pfft, pfft! I don’t even have any. My laugh flicked like a whip.

“Lan’er really did clean my room ahead of time.” Guilt pricked like thorns around the heart. “I looked like I’d vanish forever. Too much.”

But that wasn’t up to me. Xuewei kept me out, fate turning the latch. A soft whine rose and fell like wind under door.

Right now, Xuewei is probably living it up in Jiuqi’s palace, halls gleaming like frost. I wonder if she misses me, her big brother, even a little.

Tonight, Ling Xuewei didn’t sleep. With no one home, the house felt hollow as a shell; she had no reason to stay inside, walls echoing.

After clearing the trash, she went to buy vegetables, like gathering green moons in a basket. That one will come back later anyway, she thought. I’ll prep first; the kitchen will be warm.

Seven at night. Qingsheng Tangxue still hadn’t returned. The clock ticks pecked like a woodpecker on a dead tree.

That one forgot the time again. Fine. She’ll be hungry when she gets back. I’ll make dinner. I’m bad at it—no, I can cook a little. It’ll taste rough… but my brother won’t mind. If she dares complain… I’ll make her eat it anyway. Her resolve clinked like iron chopsticks.

At eight-thirty, Xuewei finally finished cooking, steam curling like ghosts above bowls, then fading.

By nine-thirty, the dishes cooled into silence. The chair across stayed empty, a shadow with no face, night thick as ink.

Ling Xuewei understood. She wasn’t coming home tonight. The truth sat like a stone.

She ate the cold meal quietly, bite by bite. It was bad, flat as rainwater. She still swallowed it all, like snow melting on the tongue, loneliness salted.

She’d long grown used to this, like a stone smoothing under rain. The dishes sat cold as moonlit stone, yet each bite sent a warm tide to her eyes.

Embarrassment pricked at her like thorns under the skin. Xuewei dumped the leftovers at once, letting the sauce fall like dull rain. She didn’t want a certain someone coming back to see her in a shabby state, like a bird with damp wings.

She needed quiet like a pond before dawn. After her small, solitary dinner, Ling Xuewei climbed to the rooftop like a cool plateau. She did what she always used to do—stared into the starfield, mind drifting like mist.

Back then, this made time run like water. Tonight, it crawled, each minute sticking like wet silk.

When will the sky finally pale, like a blade of light? And when it does, what am I supposed to do, with the day yawning like an empty road?