Tangxue said she didn’t want it, but she was obedient; after a token squirm like a kitten batting yarn, she let me guide her.

I didn’t do anything overboard; I just rubbed her back, like smoothing a river’s current, and got her blood moving.

There isn’t much to scrub on her, thin as a reed by the pond.

“Mom… this spring is so sticky, it’s not comfy at all.” Her voice wobbled like a leaf in syrup.

“It’s okay, okay. Soak a bit more and it won’t feel so gummy, like skin learning rain. Once you adapt, it’s just water again. Hah… getting sleepy.” My eyelids slid down like shutters at dusk. “Mom’s gonna nap a bit…”

Tangxue didn’t dare disturb Dreamsound; she curled against me like a little fox tucked in snow.

Soaking daily in this sweet, viscous bath, it’d be impossible not to carry odd scents, like flowers steeped in honey.

After about an hour, Qingyu Mengyin stirred awake, like a lantern relit at dusk.

“Not too late, right? Mm… about five-something. Time to make dinner.” I pressed my brow, trying to clear a head foggy as a misted valley.

Waking after just an hour leaves a taste like a green persimmon—tight and hard to swallow.

“Ah, this little one…” I couldn’t help a wry smile at Tangxue, her face buried against me like a warm bun in a steamer.

“Up you get, little sloth,” I said, voice light as a tapping fan.

She didn’t answer; she only rubbed closer in protest, like a sleepy squirrel resisting dawn.

“Really now… what am I supposed to do with you?” My sigh drifted like a thread of smoke.

“If you still won’t get up, no tasty dinner tonight,” I teased, dangling the bait like a carrot before a mule.

Tangxue wavered; the arms around my waist loosened like vines after rain.

Now. I seized the moment, tickled her ribs, light as a breeze through reeds, and when she was about to burst laughing, I hoisted her up. Her bunny-print pajamas wrinkled like crumpled paper cranes.

What caught me more was her shy look, pink as a cloud at dawn.

I ignored her muffled protests and grinned, a cat with a feather. “I know your weak spots, little Tangxue. If you’d gotten up, I wouldn’t have done this. But since you didn’t, Mom has to teach you some respect for your elders.”

“…Mom?”

“Even if you put on a near-crying face, it won’t work,” I said, biting back a laugh like a spark under ash. “Sometimes showing weakness just invites teasing, you know.”

Soon, the bathroom rang with carefree laughter, like bells in wind, and then the sound thinned, a trembling edge like rain streaking a window.

I messed up. I think… I went too far.

At the table, Tangxue sat with her back to me, cheeks puffed like a small drum. A chill crept into my chest like a pail of cold water.

It’s my fault… Her laughter was too contagious, and—no, it’s on me. I lost the reins on my mood, like a horse bolting at the gate.

I wanted to find a block of tofu and bash my head on it.

Thonk! My forehead kissed the table like a hammer striking a drum.

“I—I’m sorry, little Tangxue. Mom was wrong. I won’t do it again, I swear.” My voice frayed like wet paper.

I sprawled on the table, not daring to go over, afraid she’d bolt like a spooked fawn.

Grrr… The hollow room answered with a belly’s growl, like a kettle beginning to boil.

Pff…! Don’t laugh. If I laugh, I’m done for.

Tangxue turned, face red as a ripe apple, grabbed a drumstick like a little sparrow snatching grain, and turned away again.

“Hmph.”

“Little Tangxue, Mom really knows she’s wrong. I didn’t read your mood, and that’s on me. To make it up to you, I’ll agree to one condition. Even if… even if you want payback like I did—within reason—that’s okay.”

“Really?!” Her voice popped like a firecracker.

“…Really.” I clenched my teeth and nodded, like signing a pact in frost.

My gut said don’t, like a wind warning at the eaves. But still…

What bad scheme could little Tangxue have, really?

It’ll be fine. It has to be fine.

At least for now.

If Qingyu Mengyin could see the future, even risking Tangxue’s brief annoyance, she’d never have made that promise.

“Then listen carefully, Mom! You’re not allowed to go against my orders. If I want to cling to you, you can’t refuse.”

“Okay~” I agreed, easy as tossing a pebble in a pond.

That’s it? I’d expected worse. She’s still a kid—sweet as a steamed bun.

After dinner, because I’d mentioned the Far North last time, Tangxue suddenly wanted to go play there, eyes bright as twin stars.

Perfect. We could also buy ingredients in that frost-bitten city.

By the time we arrived, night had settled over the Far North like a deep blue quilt.

Magelight lanterns bloomed on every street, so day and night blurred like ink and water. Tangxue loved the rainbow glow, fireflies bottled in glass. Maybe we should buy a few back. Money isn’t a problem.

“Tangxue, do you like these lights?” I asked, her hand warm in mine like a small stove.

“Love them!”

“Then let’s buy some to dress up our place,” I said, picturing a river of color under our eaves.

“The gold coins we brought should be enough.”

Gold’s handy for small things, like pebbles in a pouch; whip out something bigger and both sides get awkward, like trying to pay with a brick.

I once took a gem coin to buy an automatic bread maker; they couldn’t make change, and I ran around like a headless chicken.

This time, a few hundred lamps will do; the house and garden are big, a little forest waiting for stars.

“My little Tangxue’s the same old foodie,” I sighed, wry as a crooked moon, watching her dive into the food court and forget me.

“What? I’m the same? Then it’s fine.”

Before we split, I’d given her plenty of gold. She couldn’t possibly blow it all; if she did, someone conned a child, and I’d chase that rat to its hole.

So I can finally go eat what I want! (*≧▽≦)

Qingyu Mengyin slipped into the snack street and vanished, a fish darting into a bright stream.

Tangxue loves sweets; Dreamsound leans sour and spicy. Those taste alleys are two different rivers.

So much for tender mother-daughter moments. Does anything beat food? _(:3」∠)_