“Why are you two tagging along...?” I looked at the willful little princess beside me, exasperation pooling like rainwater in a gutter.

I was about to head home with Xuewei, but the princess of the Radiant Empire trailed us like a silk ribbon.

She claimed Xuewei was her aunt and glued herself to us like paste.

She even brought a personal maid who shadowed her like the moon to a tide.

“Hey, hey? Tangxue, you don’t welcome us? So hurt—I’m gonna cry, boo‑hoo, tears like glass beads.”

Spare me that bargain‑bin cutesy act; I wore that trick out like old shoes.

I shot Ying Xuan’er a side‑eye sharp as a paper cut.

Her smile stalled like a hiccup, then bloomed again like a spring flower.

“You two... that’s enough,” Xuewei said, her patience thin as winter ice.

She finally cut in, stepping between us like a reed in current.

“I did say yes, Xuan’er, you can stay under my roof for a few days. But don’t start a fight at home, or you’ll drum a headache through me like thunder.”

“Mhm! Tangxue and I are as close as rice and soup; how could we fight? Right, Tangxue‑xue?” She winked, sly sparkle like foxfire.

“Yeah, yeah...” I rolled my dead‑fish eyes, laziness drifting like seaweed.

To be fair, she helped me a lot at the start; I owe her a red string, so “friend” isn’t wrong.

I still don’t know why she wants to be my friend, like a moth circling a lantern.

“Auntie, look, look—Tangxue and I are super close, close like ivy, so why worry?”

Xuewei shot her a glare like a flicked fan, then kept walking down the road like a quiet stream.

Seeing Xuewei wasn’t biting, Ying Xuan’er didn’t push it.

She hooked her arm through the maid’s and narrowed her eyes in lazy contentment, like a cat in the sun.

If I remember right... this maid of hers is called Yueqin, like a crescent on a quiet zither.

“Your Highness... people are watching...” The gray‑haired maid stammered, blush blooming like peach.

“Oh? So, Yueqin, you mean if no one’s around, we can do whatever we want?” Ying Xuan’er purred, sly as a fox, flicking me a glance like a pebble in a pond.

Unease pricked me like nettles; was that a hint at me?

“N‑no, Your Highness... I meant...” The maid’s cheeks flushed red as sunset, her voice fluttering like sparrows.

“Shh...” Ying Xuan’er smiled softly and covered the maid’s mouth with a hand like a silk fan. “I know what Yueqin wants to say. Some things don’t need the whole script.”

“Mm...” The maid nodded, half understanding like a reed in wind, and stopped fussing.

This little princess flirts like she breathes. She won’t spare even her own maid, casting nets in public like a fisherman at dusk.

A serial heartbreaker... terrifying, like waves gnawing a cliff.

I hunched my neck like a turtle and decided to keep some distance; I don’t want to be anyone’s little fish on a line.

In truth, Ying Xuan’er wasn’t plotting that deep; she just found Tangxue adorable and wanted to be friends, like picking a bright flower.

The rest was her trying out a scene from a comic, showing off like a child with a favorite toy.

If she knew what Tangxue was thinking now, she’d probably panic and cry like rain on bamboo.

After that, we didn’t head home to cook. We ate at the Heavenly Melody Academy cafeteria instead; night had fallen like ink, and cooking would be too late.

Dinner handled, the two didn’t return to their dorm. They came with us to Xuewei’s little house—if you can call it that—small as a sparrow’s nest.

Dorms... did I... forget something? The thought drifted like smoke. Whatever. Sleep matters more; let’s just go back, like pulling a quilt over the night.

Luckily the house had plenty of spare rooms, like empty shells on a beach, so no one had to cram together.

With another creep in the house, I took extra precautions while showering, practiced hands setting little safeguards like spider silk, in case someone barged in.

But... she’s a princess; she wouldn’t be that rude, right? The doubt fluttered like a moth.

Turns out I was overthinking. Who even bursts in on someone’s bath like a bandit at noon?

After my shower, I pulled on my pajamas and got ready for bed, sleep calling like a soft tide.

The house had more than one bathroom, doors like quiet caves, so they weren’t done yet.

I don’t soak in tubs here; the bath is too small, like a teacup for a koi.

Right then, a knock thudded at the door like a drum in fog.

“Who is it, knocking this late?” My brows creased like folded fans. “Teacher Xuewei, I’ll get the door; someone’s here.”

Xuewei didn’t waste words. She just hummed, a soft note like a bell.

I was only in pajamas, but they were decent enough for the hall. I walked to the door and opened it, steps quiet as feathers.

The visitor was the City Lord of Starfate City, standing like a lone pine in night wind.

I didn’t have a deep impression of him; I knew him because, when I went to trouble Dreamsound, he helped me a lot, a lantern by the road.

He felt solid, like a stone by the path.

I spoke softly, voice low as midnight rain. “City Lord, what brings you to me this late at night?”

“There is a matter,” he said, expression knotted like twine. “Do you remember that Vampire? The one named Edgar. He asked me to deliver this gem. He said it’s yours—you’ll understand at a glance.”

A gem? Mine? From Edgar? What the hell—questions sparked like flint.

“From that guy...?” Confusion chilled my face like morning dew, yet I reached out. I took the pale‑blue piece—more a rhombus of crystal than a gem, veins swirling inside like frozen rivers.

Suddenly, wonder struck. The gem vanished in my palm, whoosh—gone, like rain sinking into dry earth. It felt like it melted into my hand.

“No way—what is this thing!” Disgust crawled over me like ants as I shook my hand. I worried that annoying Vampire had cooked up a curse; I did shove garlic in his mouth before.

“So that’s how it is,” the City Lord murmured, words like mist, but his face eased like clouds parting.

“Huh? What the hell! Did I pick up the wrong script?” The feeling tilted like a boat in a crosswind.

“Since I’ve delivered it, I’ll take my leave.” He turned and left with clipped steps, like a man pressed by urgent rain.

“Fine. I should check my body first, see if anything’s wrong; if there is, I’m screwed.” A headache thrummed like war drums. “That City Lord ran off without saying a thing.”

“Should I... ask Xuewei? No, no—don’t pile trouble on her. I can handle this myself, like patching a leak in my own roof.”

Truth is, I didn’t feel much rejection to that gem sinking into me, like warm tea soaking cold hands. Or maybe... I didn’t want Xuewei to see something.