Good thing this city has no crooks who swindle kids; when Dreamsound found Tangxue, the little one had cream smeared like snowfall on her lips.

“The cream got on your scarf…” I slipped behind Tangxue, step soft as a breeze, and dabbed her scarf with a handkerchief.

Ever since Tangxue came back, she’s grown wary of cold, like a cat flinching from water. In the far northern lands, she once strolled in short sleeves, untouched by frost. Now she wears a heavy sweater beneath a coat, burrowing like a sparrow under winter clouds.

“Mom!” Tangxue looked up, her smile swelling like a lantern in dusk.

That’s Tangxue all over—soft-headed and shining; don’t let a slice of cream cake lead you off like a gull chasing bread.

I could only smile wryly, like a leaf curling under rain.

“Tangxue, if you’re full, let’s head home; night’s already pooling like ink.”

True enough; we’d grazed for almost two hours, parting and rejoining like tides. And that was after dinner; even the moon would roll its eyes at us.

“Mm.” Although Tangxue looked reluctant, she nodded obediently, like a willow yielding to wind.

Such a well-behaved child—sweet as warm tea.

I couldn’t resist and patted her head; Tangxue basked in it, nuzzling my palm like a kitten.

She’s a little imp who torments me with tenderness; sigh, like wind slipping through reeds.

“We’ll come again next time; we’ve got time ahead, wide as the sea.”

“I’ll do as Mom says, like a star trailing the moon.”

“Then let’s go,” I said, like swallows turning for home.

I blinked at Tangxue, a playful firefly wink. A flash of white light, and we were back beneath the sea, in blue silence.

I’m fluent with spatial elements, folding distance like paper cranes. We’re a family of rare space affinity, a constellation cut from odd silk. Our training is more refined than anywhere in this world, honed like jade.

Even the far North at the world’s opposite shore is a single thought away, like stepping through a mirror.

“I’m stuffed; everything else can wait till tomorrow—tonight, sleep should fold around us like a quilt.”

Back in our room, I fell onto the bed like a felled pine; Tangxue flopped onto me, warm as a cat.

“Tangxue, later I’ll keep telling the story I left unfinished, like a candle relit.”

Tangxue seemed distracted; she ducked her head and just murmured, “Mm,” like a pebble dropped in a well.

“Right, where did I leave off? Hiss—age frays memory like frost nips silk.”

“Last time, silly Mom said the hero led her friends to face the monster, banners fluttering in storm.”

“Oh, oh! I remember; I’ll continue tonight, like a river finding its course.”

Time skimmed forward; a month slipped by like a gull’s shadow over water.

Through that month, Tangxue stuck to me like a shadow, whether on our sea island or in the garden.

Of course, I told the nightly stories diligently, like a temple bell keeping time.

Sadly, Tangxue’s interest in that tale waned, like candle wax thinning under heat. A few days ago she even threw a small fit, telling me never to tell it again.

Whimper, whimper—my daughter’s grown, drifting like a kite, and ignoring her mother.

Is this a late-blooming rebellion, like winter plum finally breaking bud?

But what needs saying must be said; bedtime stories won’t fly, like birds caught in rain. If I keep at it, I might be banned from Tangxue’s bed, like a stray barred from the porch.

I need another way; a new path through the bamboo. Got it—like a lantern flicking on. If bedtime tales are out, I’ll tell meal-time tales; steam makes good ink. I’m so clever—pat-pat, like a sparrow puffing its chest.

“Mom… what are you silly-smiling about again?” Tangxue looked at Dreamsound, exasperated, like rain tapping a window.

“I’m not grinning like a fool—huff! Why can’t little Tangxue say more good things about Mom? Keep needling me at my awkward moments, and you’ll poke a beehive.”

Tangxue shot Dreamsound a blank look. “But I stare at Mom every day,” she said, eyes sticking like dew to leaves.

“Mom, your face is red again, blushing like sunset on clouds.”

“Don’t keep pointing that out; let the blush fade like tide.”

“Little Tangxue, I’m going to prep lunch; don’t run off, stay like a pebble by the path.”

“Mom, how about I make lunch instead, ladle bright as a crescent?”

“No, no, Mom will do this; little Tangxue, don’t dash off like last time and stir the pots.”

I remember last time, while I cooked dinner, little Tangxue snuck to the island on the sea. She froze all my special ingredients I’d hidden for ages—sob-sob—treasures kept like shells in sand. I’d prepared them for so long, like aging tea in the dark. She even claimed it was to stop me from making dark cuisine. Am I the type to brew culinary darkness? Hmph—my spoon’s as bright as moonlight.

“Mom, let me make this lunch, please,” Tangxue said, voice steady as a drawn bow.

“What’s wrong, little Tangxue? Why so serious all of a sudden, like storm clouds gathering?”

“Can I?” she asked, her voice clear as spring water.

“I didn’t say no… I just want to know why, like a sparrow asking the wind.”

“Don’t ask. A fool who knows too much only adds useless worries, like stones to a boat.”

“Hey!”—like a crow startling from a branch. By the time I reacted, Tangxue had slipped into the kitchen and shut the door, like a wave closing over sand.

“This little rascal is getting bolder, calling her mother a fool outright; sigh—so this is rebellion, rising like summer heat.”

A thin thread of helplessness climbed my heart like ivy.

Still… Tangxue’s cooking? I haven’t tasted it in ages, like missing a familiar tea.

About an hour later, Tangxue set out three dishes, steam curling like mist; most were my favorites, including sour-pickled fish.

I sensed a thin wrong note, like a chill threading the room.

“Right, little Tangxue, you said you didn’t want the story at night. I’ll tell it in daylight instead, bright as koi in a clear pond; where did I leave off?”

“Mom, you said the hero crossed mountains and rivers to reach the monster’s lair. Then her companions abandoned her, scattering like leaves in a storm.”

“I remember! Then I’ll keep going, words flowing like a brook.”

“Then the hero couldn’t beat the monster and got swallowed,” Tangxue said, rolling her eyes like marbles, and popped a piece of fish into her mouth.

“Uh… right, words stumbling like shoes on wet stone.”

Since when are you peeking at the script, like a fox nosing the stage?

“So little Tangxue remembered it all—aha-ha,” I scratched my head, sheepish as a sparrow caught stealing rice.

“Why…” Tangxue lowered her head quietly, like a reed bowing to rain.

“Hmm? Little Tangxue, what do you mean, your words fogging like mist?”

“I deliberately forced myself to forget; why… make me remember again?” Her voice trembled, a silver thread in winter wind.

“Bad… I think I made Tangxue cry again.” Yet I did nothing, like a stone blamed by rain. “Wuu… a little sob, thin as mist.”

“…Idiot,” came the word, sharp as a cold pebble.

“Huh? I’m here!” On hearing that familiar call, I answered by reflex, like a bell struck.

“I’m leaving this afternoon,” she said, like a bird lifting from the eaves.

“No!” I snapped, like thunder cracking over the bay. “Tangxue, you promised me—if something went wrong, you wouldn’t adventure again!” My impatience surged like a storm, and my words tangled like fishing lines.

“You don’t follow your own rules,” Tangxue muttered with a thin laugh, like rain on bamboo. “Mom, I have something important to do, so… please don’t stop me?”

Seeing Tangxue’s earnest face, bitterness rose like dark tea. “I… I don’t want you two to clash again; your little aunt, she…”

“I don’t mean that woman.” A flicker of disgust crossed Tangxue’s face, like a shadow over snow. “I’m talking about that Vampire.”

“Rest easy, Tangxue; even if that Vampire isn’t dead, life’s worse than death for them—I’m confident, like iron in the stove.”

“I’ve dealt with Vampires before; their kind don’t die so easily,” Tangxue said, lowering her head to sip juice like twilight honey. “I worry about the Duskmoon Empire; a good friend of mine is still there.”

“And I will never let the beast who hurt Mother Yueyao live—never.” Tangxue’s gaze was iron-steady, a chill killing intent that made even Dreamsound shiver like reeds.