“It’s your dearest little sister, big sis!” The voice chimed, sweet as sugar dusting fresh snow.

“...Xuewei? Is that you? Why’d you shrink like a cut sapling? Wait—why is your hair white like frost?!”

“...Xuewei? Big sis... you don’t remember me?” The whimper quivered like wind through reeds.

By the sound, Tangxue felt that wasn’t Xuewei at all, and confusion rolled in like fog over a lake.

“Who are you?” Her words snapped like an icicle.

“...I’m Qianyue.” The white-haired, red-eyed little girl looked up, her excitement doused like a bucket of cold water on embers.

“Who?” The question cracked like a dry twig.

Qianyue’s lips parted, disbelief hanging like a frozen breath, then a thought flickered and her smile curved like a thin new moon.

“Big sis... you don’t know me? I’m your favorite adopted little sister.” Qianyue looked up at Tangxue, aggrieved like a kitten in the rain. “Back when you heartlessly left me, we swore an oath—if I found you again, you’d take me with you.” Her words tugged like a red thread knotted between wrists.

“...?” Tangxue narrowed her eyes, suspicion skimming her gaze like a skin of frost.

Truth be told, Tangxue didn’t trust her; white-haired shorties were usually drama sprites, foxes in lamb’s fluff, especially the ones who weaponized cute like a sugar-coated dagger.

But... the girl carried a scent she knew, warm as an old scarf kept through winter.

“It’s real! I’ve got your token.” Qianyue pulled a little bottle from her pack, a vial sloshing with a strangely colored liquid, like moonlight melted into syrup.

“Huh?”

“It’s your blood, big sis... does that ring a bell?” She waggled the bottle, the liquid glinting like northern lights in glass.

“...” My blood... is that color? The thought fell like a stone in a pond. Human blood is red, isn’t it?

No... I’m not human anymore. The realization drooped her heart like a withering leaf. One glance told her the truth; her body read fluids from afar the way a brook reads fallen rain.

“You... really are my sister?” Tangxue stared at Qianyue, her eyes clear and cold as twin ice chips.

Qianyue nodded hard, like a sparrow pecking grain. “Uh-huh! Truer than anything!”

“...” Tangxue let out a breath, a little thaw at the edge of winter. “I still don’t quite buy it, but... you’re a friend.”

“A sister! One step closer than friends!” Qianyue pouted, lips like a petal pushed by breeze.

Tangxue didn’t care much for labels; in her memory, the name “Xuewei” was the only one carved in ice.

“So what did you come to me for?” Tangxue planted her hands on her hips, her glare like a pale winter sun.

“Of course I came to adventure with you!” Qianyue puffed her cheeks like warm buns fresh from steam, and shot Tangxue a glare of her own.

“Adventure...? No.” Tangxue’s face hardened like iron rimed in frost. “What I’m doing is too dangerous. Even I might not get out whole—how could I—”

“Eh—so you do care about me, big sis? I’m so happy!” Qianyue’s laughter fluttered like a swallow. “But since you won’t let me tag along this time, I’ll wait for next time. Don’t forget our oath! See you—” She spun and bolted, a streak of white like a hare vanishing into brush, leaving Tangxue stunned in the doorway.

“???”

Why did she just run off? The thought drifted like a lone cloud. Forget it.

Tangxue shook her head and let the wind of worry blow past without chasing.

Tonight, I’m sleeping early... and no more surprise relatives. I’m going to bed. She shut the door, then laid a thin ring of ice around her bed, a pale moat like dawn frost. Only when silence settled like fresh snow did she finally lie down.

At this strength, unless you’re a false god, you can’t even leave a hairline crack in this ward; it was winter-lake solid.

Morning came, and with the sun’s rise like a gold coin over the ridge, the girl opened her eyes. She stretched, and her chest swelled and fell like a tide, then bounced when she flopped back with a sudden splash.

“Five more minutes...” Her voice curled like steam from a teacup.

“...”

By noon, the sun hung like a brazier in the sky, and the warm air soaked her bones like a bath; the will to get up slid away like sand through fingers.

“One more minute... just one... zzz...” Her breath drifted like dandelion fluff.

Evening bled across the sky like diluted wine. Tangxue sat on the bed, hair a bird’s nest, eyes hazy as dew.

“Feels like... it’s already dusk?”

“I’m hungry. Up. Food.” She yawned like a cat, dispelled the ice ring with a tap like a thawing icicle, and went to wash.

After dinner downstairs, Tangxue stood on the main street and stared at the distant trunk that speared the clouds. Resolve struck flint in her eyes and sparked.

The World Tree was the spine of the plane, the core that kept everything steady like a keel under storm. Because of that Tree, the elves had flourished for a thousand years like spring leaves. Even world wars had broken on its roots like surf on rock. The current Forest Elf Queen could glimpse the future, turning ill fortune to windblown chaff with a flick.

Yet under her rule, the Elven Dominion looked endless and bright like a lantern festival, but the frame felt paper-thin, a pavilion that would fold in rain.

If the plane slipped its reins, the elves would be the first domino to fall, the first leaf torn by the gale.

Tangxue dropped her gaze to her little leather shoes, dark as wet bark, then smoothed her clothes from hem to collar, like calming ripples on a pond. She might have to meet the Forest Elf Queen soon; looking messy would sour the talk. She had to get the Evergreen Fruit from the World Tree. She could feel it—her memory thinning like mist at noon. Things that had happened to her slid away like fish, let alone the small everyday crumbs.

Wouldn’t that make me like an old woman? The thought creaked like an ancient gate.

If it keeps going, will I forget my kin... then forget myself?

No! The scream shattered inside her like ice cracking on a river. She crouched, hugging her head, shaking like a leaf in a street wind. It was the main road, and eyes turned toward her like sparrows tilting their heads.

“Little sister, are you okay?” A voice fell gentle as shade.

“I... I’m fine.” Tangxue shook her head, gave a quick thanks like a nodding reed, and ran off.

To reach the city in the tree, you had to go up like a climber after dawn. She was still on the Forest Capital’s third layer. What just happened hammered her resolve for the Evergreen Fruit like a nail. Calm again, she sprang to the second layer in one leap, light as a snowfall.

For her, any place in the Forest Capital was a step away; if she wanted through, no gate could stand like a twig before an axe.

The second layer had a character of its own. Houses burrowed in hollows and perched on branches, leaf-canopies for roofs, vine-ropes for roads; not as tall as stone towers, but charming like a forest song.

The paths twisted like roots and slowed your feet. Flight was out; a single lift of wings here would stir the Elf Clan like a horn blast, because this was the closest place to the World Tree’s heart.

Blue hair and blue eyes—Qingsheng Tangxue drew looks anywhere like sky over water. Strangely, here the crowd barely rippled, as if elves had seen that hue a thousand times like dawn over canopies.

...Forget it. Don’t overthink. Do the thing. The reminder settled like a pebble in her palm.

Heart steady, she walked toward the World Tree, following its colossal trunk like a lighthouse. If she got turned around, she only had to look up; here the gaps were wide like river mouths, and the sky pointed the way.