Later, Bai Zhi finally unraveled Heavenly Melody Academy’s barrier, like mist loosening at dawn. The enemies had slipped away like shadows at dusk. The city’s officials were either dead or gone, and Fan Chen’s remaining men were cut down in battle. The few who survived scattered like leaves in a storm.

So the teachers of Heavenly Melody Academy stepped in, weaving Starfate City’s affairs back together like torn silk mended by steady hands. Thankfully, none of the students were hurt; their backgrounds are iron-hard like mountain ridges. If anything had happened, the academy’s future would have swayed like a lantern in a high wind.

The citizens outside weren’t so lucky. They endured a deluge like pounding drums, then a blizzard like knives. The battle afterward chewed through the city, flattening about a third of the houses like trampled fields.

After this, the Radiant Empire moved to fully take back Starfate City, like a river reclaiming its old course. It was their land to begin with. After a long string of crisis work, Bai Zhi smoothed the waves and settled the city, like embers tamped under ash.

A few months later.

Inside a villa in Starfate City, Linyue Yao sat by the bed, peeling an apple with a blade that gleamed like a sliver of moon. Xuewei lay quietly beside the bed, and sunlight pooled through the window, warm gold across their faces.

“Mm…” The glare was a needle of light. Xuewei’s willow brows pinched like a drawn bow.

“Xuewei, you awake?” Linyue’s voice was soft, like spring water.

“The curtains…” The request hovered like night wanting to fall.

“Nope. Right now, the sun is your best medicine, like winter thaw.” Her tone was firm, like a stake in earth.

“…”

Xuewei opened her eyes, helpless as a kitten in rain. She puffed her cheeks and glared at Linyue Yao, like a small storm in a teacup.

“Staring won’t help. You misused that power again,” Linyue huffed, like a breeze scolding a flame.

“If you’re ready to be sick, don’t complain the medicine’s bitter.” Her gaze held steady, like frost glazing a pond.

“Okay, okay, I get it… Mom Yao, where’s my Royal Sister?” Xuewei’s voice was tentative, like a sparrow peeking from a branch.

“Her? Her Majesty ran back to the capital ages ago, busy as a hive in summer.” Linyue’s smile tilted, like sunlight on tiles. “This mess gave her plenty of trouble. But it did profit the Radiant Empire a bit—Starfate City finally returned from the public zone to the Empire, like a wayward boat tying up at its old pier.”

“Is that so… I don’t really care.” Xuewei exhaled, like fog leaving a mirror. “Under Fan Chen, the old Starfate City didn’t have many constraints anyway.”

“Fan Chen is dead.” The words fell like a stone in a well.

“…?” Xuewei’s lips parted, shock flaring like a struck match.

“This whole disaster in Starfate City had plenty to do with him,” Linyue said, a note of disgust like bitter herb on the tongue. “He wanted revenge, so he colluded with the Flower of the Other Shore. He tried to lure out Xiaohan’s mother and kill her. Instead, he tripped into his own trap, like a moth into flame.”

“My brother’s mother??? Wait, Mom Yao, what are you saying?!” Her panic fluttered like a frightened finch.

“Ah… I forgot to tell you.” Linyue’s sigh drifted like smoke. “I meant to say this once you woke. That pale blue–haired woman you saw is Xiaohan’s mother. Though now Xiaohan should be called Qingsheng Tangxue… Mm, that name rings like a bell in rain.”

“Mom Yao… what are you even saying? I can’t follow.” Xuewei’s face went pale, like paper in cold wind.

“Don’t rush it, Xuewei. I’ll explain everything about Xiaohan, step by step.” She lifted the slice, clean and bright like a crescent. “Here, taste the apple. I peeled it for you. Say ah.”

Xuewei looked reluctant, like a cat eyeing water, but she took a bite anyway. The sweetness spread like sun in snow.

“Do you still remember when you first met your brother?” Linyue’s voice turned gentle, like dusk light across a pond.

“I remember…” Xuewei lowered her head, memories rising like mist. “My family abandoned me… Mom Yao found me in the forest and took me back to Pineapple Orphanage. Back then my brother was tiny and so cute, with long black hair like night threads.”

“Yup—that was my dye.” Linyue’s chuckle rippled like a small brook.

“…”

“When I first saw Xiaohan, his hair color matched that Merfolk lady you fought this time, clear as shallow sea. I even thought he was a girl, until I washed him in the bath and realized he was a boy.” Her words blushed with mischief, like peaches in July.

“Bath…?” Xuewei’s cheeks warmed, rose-petal pink.

“Hey, don’t let your mind wander.” Linyue tapped her lightly, a fingertip like a raindrop on a leaf.

“When I first saw that hair, I was shocked. In this realm, hair often shifts with elemental affinity, like leaves turning with the season. Back then, relations between the continent and the Merfolk were ice-cold, and Xiaohan’s pale blue hair meant a very high water affinity. That would bring him storms later. So I had to dye it black, like clouds closing over sky.”

“From that first glance, I guessed Xiaohan’s ties to the Merfolk ran deep. No one on this continent has hair that pure, that pale blue—like glacier water under sun.”

“That’s not fair! Mom Yao, how can you decide my brother’s tied to the Merfolk just from hair?” Xuewei bristled, like a cat with raised fur.

“It really is true, Xuewei. Didn’t you see it? When he was little, Xiaohan looked so much like that Merfolk lady. Almost like mother and daughter, face to face—like reflections in a lake.”

“…”

Put Ling Yehan’s childhood face next to Dreamsound’s, and the likeness was half a moon then. Now it’s more than two-thirds, like tides drawing closer.

Xuewei’s eyes dimmed, like lamps under rain. She lay silent, the sheet a quiet shore.

“Oh, right. Miss Qingyu Mengyin said that once you recover, you can visit her home. She’ll tell you everything you want to know.” Linyue’s words landed like white cranes in snow.

“!!!” Xuewei surged up, hope flaring like a firebird.

“Hey, dummy, calm down!” Linyue pressed her, firm as a hand on a drum.

“Ugh…!” Xuewei clutched her head and fell back, pain knifing like ice.

“Do you even know how bad your body is right now?” Linyue’s anger and worry braided like vines. “I’m telling you straight: for the next few months, forget getting out of bed.”

“…Huh?” Her voice thinned, a reed in wind.

“That gray aura in you will keep eroding your body, like ash swallowing embers. You pushed that power too hard, and most of your tissues are close to necrosis, like frostbitten leaves. If Her Majesty Bai Zhi hadn’t seared you with her pure yang fire, balancing that gray breath for now, you would’ve lost control.” Linyue’s words were steady, like stones laid in a path.

“My wounds then…?” Xuewei’s gaze slid to the bandages, white as winter fields. She lifted her right hand, puzzled, like a child with a shell.

“Uh… there was a small mishap during Her Majesty Bai Zhi’s treatment.” Linyue turned her head, guilty as a cloud hiding the moon.

“…”

So you burned me—seriously?! The thought screamed inside her, like a sparrow hitting a window.

All the strength fled her limbs, and she sank into the bed like a wave folding back into the sea.