Just as Xuewei strode in like a brewing storm to hassle Edgar, he looked like he’d been waiting at the shore for that wave.

“Yo, what’s this… the Radiant Empire’s golden darling coming to play bodyguard for me?” Edgar’s smile was knife-cold, a shadow under noon light. “I do think this city’s got people who’d rather ignore me. So a ‘bodyguard’ who knows the score isn’t the worst thing.”

Xuewei’s disgust pinched her brows like frost cracking on stone. Her knuckles itched like thunder behind cloud. “Will you walk on your own, or do I make you?”

“What, you people are already trying to push me out?” His voice was sand on glass, with a dry cough in the wind. “Heh, fine, I’ll go myself! Your city stinks like stale rain—I don’t want to stay a minute longer.”

Xuewei slid her long spear away like a silver reed folding to the river. Inwardly, she scoffed, the thought sharp as a pepper seed: It’s your garlic stink, not the city.

“Then we leave in the morning. Don’t tell me you can’t face the sun. If sunlight could kill you, I’d tie you under it for ten days and ten nights, like a boar laid on a blazing kiln.”

“…” Edgar’s lip twitched like a moth struck by flame. A Vampire at his level didn’t fear sunlight, but daylight still scraped at him like sandpaper on raw skin.

Worst part… he tended to catch fire, like dry straw under a careless spark.

If he walked like on thin ice, he’d be fine.

“Stop underestimating me! You think this sun can touch me?” Edgar’s gaze hardened like glass cooling in air. A transparent sheath flickered over him, a second skin like clear water. Sunbeams turned blunt at that layer, arrows dulled by mist. He stepped forward brimming with pride, chest lifted like a banner.

Still chickened out, didn’t you. Xuewei’s eyes were pure frost as she watched him, then followed, her shadow trailing like a quiet blade.

No way was she going to stand side by side with that annoying Vampire. Making him walk behind her was even worse. The thought rose like a cat’s hiss under her ribs.

A Vampire plus a teacher from Heavenly Melody Academy—this pairing pulled every gaze in Starfate City like birds homing to a bright fruit. But no one dared point or whisper; the Vampire had carved too deep a scar in their minds, like a claw through wet clay.

Before long, they reached the city gate, and the air jumped like a drumskin—something shocking happened.

“…? What’s that smell…” Edgar’s brows knotted like stormcloud thread.

“Garlic…” Xuewei stepped back a pace, chin wrinkling like a cat avoiding cold water.

“Why won’t this stink scatter?!” Edgar clawed at the air, madness flaring like weeds in a drought. Under the sun, the garlic reek thickened like swamp heat. He felt plunged into a cesspit, muck up to his ears. Clearly, this garlic wasn’t ordinary—it was a curse steeped like bitter tea.

Then… that transparent shield thinned like soap film and vanished. Flames bloomed on Edgar’s coat like foxfire licking dry bark.

A smoke with a salty tang curled up from him, drifting like grill-scent in a night market. The air carried a strange aroma, half incense, half street skewers.

“Sniff… yeah. A pinch of salt and cumin would make it perfect.” Xuewei’s voice was cool as streamwater over stone.

“AAAH—AAAH—AAAH!” Edgar howled, a branded steer under iron. The fire wouldn’t end him, but the burn bit real, teeth and all.

After a bout of rolling like a dog in dust, the flames guttered out for a breath. He learned his lesson and stepped out with a black umbrella, a crow at high noon.

With Xuewei speaking, the gate guards opened the way like a sluice, glad to let that jinxed Vampire drift off like bad weather leaving a field.

“Walking with you is pure bad luck,” Xuewei muttered, a mildew shadow under sunlight.

“Heh. Maybe they just hate you,” Edgar shot back, voice a blade laid on velvet.

“So what? I’ve never been the type to live under other people’s eyes. Still, walking with you feels like bad omens hanging from the rafters.”

“…”

A black umbrella at high noon—like a funeral crow perched in a wheat field. Tell me that’s not unlucky.

Meanwhile, back in Starfate City, I still didn’t know Xuewei had left alone, her trail thin as dew.

“Uuu… I don’t even dare go home right now…” My heart fluttered like a rabbit under a hawk’s shadow.

sob.jpg

“So hungry…” My empty stomach beat a protest like fists on a drum, hollow and loud.

“Good thing I brought some green cookies… crunch.” The cold biscuit slid down like a pebble in a well. Hard to swallow, the texture rough as bark, but the flavor… oh, it sang like sugar on a breeze. That’s why I keep eating them even though they make me hungrier—like incense that invites more incense.

It’s just too damn good.jpg

Ever since I got used to sweets, my tongue’s been a spoiled cat, batting away plain food.

Dreamsound can make something this delicious—don’t tell me she “can’t cook.” She’s messing with me on purpose! She’d rather eat fast food for years than cook for me! I’m furious, like a lit firecracker—huff!

“Forget it. I’ll head back… If I apologize properly to Xuewei, she should forgive me, right? Mm…” Hope flickered like a little lantern in fog.

I stood and patted my skirt clean, dust rising like pale moths, then stretched, spine warm under a sunbeam.

“Mm… still starving. I’ll see if there’s anything to eat at home.” My belly boomed like a hollow drum.

When I got back, Xuewei had already gone. The house felt still as a pond at dawn—only Ying Xuan’er and the little maid were here, the latter scrubbing with steady tides.

The maid was mopping near the dining table, smooth as a river over tiles. She stopped when she saw me, turned, and said, “Good morning, Miss Tangxue. Teacher Xuewei left for palace business. She asked Yueqin to tell you: ‘Stay put. Don’t go anywhere.’” The maid imitated Xuewei’s stern tone, lacquer-stiff and sharp.

I’ll give it to her—that faux severity carried Xuewei’s flavor, like a borrowed mask that still smelled of sandalwood.

Xuewei went back… I don’t know if that’s good or bad. She even skipped breakfast and left—so she’s really mad at me, isn’t she? The thought sat like a stone in my chest.

I’ll apologize properly when she returns. For now, I have to handle what’s in front of me, like stacked bricks—classmates included.

“Okay, okay, I get it. Classmate Yueqin, let me help with the mopping. Most of that mess is mine anyway.” Heat rose to my cheeks like a ripe peach.

“No. This is one of the few things Yueqin gets to do. Does Miss Tangxue want to steal Yueqin’s job?” The little maid hugged the mop like a wary cat clutching a fish, and edged back a step.

“That’s not what I meant… Fine, you keep mopping. By the way, neither of you has eaten, right? I’ll go prep breakfast.” My voice tried to be sunny, like a pan catching the first light.

“Mm, that works… Yueqin can’t cook.” Her words fell like soft drizzle, eyes lowered.

“…” I’ll pretend I heard nothing. Getting breakfast ready matters more—my hunger curled like smoke under a door.

By the time Yueqin went to tell the little princess in her room to come eat, it was already eight-thirty. With Xuewei gone, the princess was even bolder; she slid right into the seat beside me, a cat seeking the warm cushion.

No wonder she’s the ultimate flirt—she never misses a chance to charm. The thought pricked me like a thorn.

“Tangxue~ your breakfast is sooo good! Way better than that crowd of palace chefs!” (*≧▽≦) Her smile sparkled like sunlight on sweet soup.

So she’s going to butter me up by praising my cooking to farm favor? Classic move. Too bad… I totally fall for it. My pride purred like a cat under gentle fingers.

“Oh? Then tell me, Your Highness—who’s better at breakfast, me or Xuewei… teacher?” I dangled the question like a hook in clear water.

Anyone else would answer without blinking. But she hesitated, her tongue caught like a kite snagged on a branch.

Right, it’s a death question. Especially for someone with too many boats in her harbor, trying to sail every tide.

“Tangxue… actually… Teacher Xuewei’s taste got dulled from sampling too many ‘failed’ dishes…” Her voice wavered like a reed in wind.

“…” Guilt surged, a heavy stone in my stomach.

Uuu… Don’t say it, please don’t. It’s all my fault—as her ‘brother,’ it’s my fault. The shame spread like ink in water.

“Eh? Tangxue, why are you crying?!” Her eyes widened, bright as beads on a silk thread.