“…So Qianyue, you were that Vampire back then, huh?” Tangxue smiled like a lantern warming dusk and looked at Qianyue. “Can you tell me your name? I forgot to ask.”

“Nope~” Qianyue shook her head, a crescent rocking in night water. “They only called the Sixth Princess ‘Sixth Princess.’ I don’t know her name.”

“Qianyue, what do you mean?” Tangxue’s eyes narrowed, thin as blades under snowlight.

“Sis… you already call me Qianyue, so why ask my name?” Her tone went flat, a windless lake. “Not everyone in the royal clan earns a name. Only at adulthood.”

‘So the earlier Qianyue hadn’t even come of age?’ The thought fluttered, a moth circling a cold lamp.

Qianyue ignored Tangxue’s frown and drifted along the wall, a shadow tracing stone. “The Sixth Princess died more than ten years ago. What’s here is only Qianyue…”

Tangxue lifted her head, serious as mountain ice. “Qianyue, I still don’t get it. You say you’re the Sixth Princess, yet she’s dead. Why?”

Qianyue gave her a fool’s look, dry as winter reeds. Then she sighed, helpless as fog. “My lady Sister, must I lay it bare?”

“Uh…” The sound hung, a pebble dropped into still water.

“Fine. Qianyue will explain.” Her smile tilted, a brittle petal. “The Sixth Princess died by your hand~ Now I’m a Vampire without a Blood Reservoir. To humans, that’s like a zombie without a heart.”

“Qianyue can’t even grow up now.” Her gaze dimmed, a candle starved of oil. “Even if I eat, nothing absorbs. I move, but I waste food—just a useless body.”

“Only in this royal mausoleum can Qianyue slowly recover.” She smiled, thin as frost on glass. “The halls are filled with my soul fragments. When you took me around, I absorbed a little. I remember because of those shards. So, Sister, what else?”

“Qianyue, then why did you want me to kill you?” Tangxue’s voice dropped, heavy as rain on slate. “And aren’t you curious why I became like this?”

“Qianyue already said.” Her tone flowed, a quiet stream skirting stone. “Leave the mausoleum and the Sixth Princess goes mad. Even if you didn’t strike, her reason would melt away. What remained would be a beast drinking blood.”

“As for why you’re like this… huh?” Her brows arched, two willow leaves. “Weren’t you always like this, Sister?”

“No!” Tangxue slapped the coffin, the crystal rang like ice. “I used to be male. I was the Frost Valor!”

“Mm-hmm…” Qianyue nodded, a drifting feather. Her face, though, betrayed doubt like sun through thin cloud.

“You don’t believe me at all.” Tangxue stared, a glacier meeting stubborn stone.

“Qianyue believes.” Her smile warmed, spring after snow. “Sister, you’ve always been like this~ Frost Valor or Merfolk, Qianyue only knows this: right now, you are my Sister.”

“Because you gave Qianyue a name.” She spoke gently, a bell at dawn. “So, in this life, Qianyue will have only one Sister. Whatever you ask, I’ll agree.”

“Is that so…” Tangxue’s mouth curved, mist hiding stars. “Maybe one day I really will need your help~ Let’s go. A few chambers remain, and we haven’t found our thing.”

“Sister… the sword you want is—” Her words floated, a ribbon in wind.

“I know.” Tangxue tied her long hair into a ponytail, a comet swept tight. “But I still want to check them one by one. The sword is just a side quest.”

“Alright~” The answer chimed, a lark in pale sky.

Once her form recovered, Qianyue stood taller than Tangxue by far, a pine over a maple. It nagged at Tangxue, a grain of sand in the shoe.

A big sister towering a head above me, yet calling me Sister? The thought pricked like nettles.

She felt like a younger girl beside Qianyue now, and it soured her mood, a lemon in tea. Especially that pampering gaze—soft as velvet.

Good thing Qianyue never harbored strange ideas, or she’d be another Xuewei’s echo, a second silhouette on the wall.

‘I wonder how Xuewei is now…’ The worry drifted, smoke in a corridor.

“My lady Sister, what’s wrong?” Qianyue asked, worry pooling like rain in a bowl.

“Nothing. Let’s move.” Tangxue’s voice steadied, a blade sheathing.

“Mm~” The reply skipped, a pebble on water.

On the way, they talked about the chambers, words weaving like threads. The lowest level was for the most outstanding Vampire Kings alone.

In Qianyue’s era, only her elder brother, the Crown Prince, and her father qualified, pillars against storm. After the royal Vampire line almost perished, Qianyue let rules crumble like old plaster.

She quietly reassigned a few empty chambers to her family, nesting sparrows in deserted halls. Across long years, she restored murals from memory, colors blooming like moss.

The snark carved on the walls was hers too, written by accident, graffiti in moonlight.

In the past, tomb robbers sometimes slipped in by unknown means, shadows breaching a seal. The mausoleum’s strange environment killed them, swift as black frost.

Their bodies lingered, autumn leaves on stone. For cleanliness, Qianyue tossed them into pits—the skull caves the two had met earlier.

Talking, they reached the next chamber, footsteps a soft drum. Qianyue said it was her mother’s.

The chamber was finer than the last, jade among brick. A Blood Clan woman lay peaceful in a crystal coffin, a winter lake untroubled.

Long ago, Qianyue had touched up her mother’s makeup, a brush like a butterfly’s wing, hoping she’d leave in peace.

The murals and Qianyue’s words told a single truth: the queen died by her own hand, a flower cutting its stem.

The Crown Prince hadn’t harmed his birth mother, yet his deeds drove her to death, wind turning to knife.

When the last Blood Elf came to avenge, sword bright as dawn, the queen had already gone. She had no face to meet her.

Her son had done what defied heaven, thunder under a blue sky. As a mother, she could do nothing, only watch like a statue.

In a short instant, she saw the ruin awaiting her son, a cliff beyond fog. She was powerless, hands empty as air.

The descendants’ slaughter and a husband’s indulgence crushed her will, a flame pinched out by cold rain.

Hearing the royal Vampire tale, Tangxue thought of her own silly mother, a warm pot left on low fire.

‘So this is royal infighting.’ The thought coiled, a snake in grass. ‘Then is Dreamsound blessed or cursed?’

‘After all… Dreamsound still has loving parents and a few relatives.’ The hope flickered, a light behind paper.