“Too slow, old fossil—think that speed can catch me?” Laughing, Tangxue wheels midair like a swallow, slips past Hualuo Jingqing’s vine, then plants her feet on it, hands on hips, mockery dripping like summer rain.

However, the air tightens like a drawn bow.

“Grow.”

“Ah!”

Tangxue gets careless and fails to dodge. The vine splits like a forked river, coils her, and slams her to the ground.

“Come… here!” Hualuo Jingqing yanks hard. Fear strikes Tangxue like winter wind, and she jams ice spikes into the earth to anchor herself. But Hualuo Jingqing seems dead set on teaching this cub a lesson. Magic surges along the vine like green fire, and the spikes shatter to glittering shards.

“Eeeek!!” In that tugged instant, Tangxue finally casts an ice pillar before her. The burst of cold blooms like a frost moon, freezes the vine to powder, and she bolts like a bow-shot bird.

“The old relic’s actually mad—like thunder on the ridge… I’m sorry!!!”

Hualuo Jingqing watches the brat slip away in a blink, then drops to the ground with a weary smile. It’s not that she held back. In raw strength and total mana, she loses to this little one like a stream to the sea. For a whole month, Hualuo Jingqing has scraped every trick she knows, trying to teach her some Elf etiquette. Yet this rabbit of a child butts heads with her every day. A simple task needs half a day of lectures to sink in, and worse, the kid shows her no shred of respect at all.

The girl’s race is Elf now, but it isn’t a full body swap. It’s more like her original looks sprouted elven traits—height shortened like a sapling pruned. Hualuo Jingqing even noticed that, if the child wishes, she can switch back at will, like a tide turning.

But now she seems to have forgotten who she is. Besides her name, most things are gone, memory scattered like leaves. It’ll take time to return.

In temper, she mirrors the Ice Deity—cold on the surface, soft underneath. From that, you can guess what the former Ice Deity was like… a little darling wrapped in frost.

“What an ancestor I’ve invited in…” Hualuo Jingqing sighs, helpless, a breeze through old branches.

Through the barrier, Tangxue darts straight to the zone heavily guarded by the Elf Clan. The World Tree’s core is a sacred heartland, so even the lazy elves draw on one hundred and twenty percent focus here, eyes sharp as starlight.

Suddenly, the quiet sanctuary rings with a kid’s shout, punctuated by thuds like a forehead to bark. The child sprints by like a streak, and the guards choose to ignore her, their shared glances full of odd ripples.

Joking aside, she’s the little ancestor handpicked by the Old Ancestor. If even the Old Ancestor can’t rein her in, how could they?

When boredom bites, they chat with the little ancestor now and then. She’s too cute—who can resist teasing a little girl the way a cat bats at a feather?

But right now, the Old Ancestor’s likely angry. Most gazes sit on this direction like thunderclouds. Touch that wrath now, and you’re done.

So everyone seals their lips and stands like statues, unmoving as carved wood.

Tangxue is too scared to look back. She bolts straight outside, like a deer shot by shadow.

“Huff, huff… good thing I run fast.” She catches her breath on a thick branch, chest rising like waves.

“Maybe I went too far… the old relic looks truly angry this time.”

“Maybe… I should find Sister Eina and think up a fix.” She springs up and drops from above, a falling leaf with purpose.

I’m an elf—mhm… I don’t look much different from the others, like one leaf among a thousand, so that should be right. When I woke, the first of my kind I saw was that female elf, a lantern in mist. Though I seem to have forgotten something… I still remember I’ve met my birth mother, a memory carved like a seal. And she wanted me to call her mom… so over the line!

The other elves are kind, warm as spring. Even when I mess up, they try to forgive me, like rain washing dust. When I don’t know something, they teach me hand in hand, warm as sunlight. Unlike that old relic, who teaches with a sour face like a sour plum… and steals my snacks on top of it! Sister Eina doesn’t steal. She even makes treats for me, sweet as fresh snow.

Ah… here we are. Sister Eina’s place should be right here, a nest in green.

Sister Eina’s home is built on leaves, cradled by green fans. It sounds wild, but elves here all build with the World Tree, like birds weaving nests into boughs. Wind, sun, storm, even typhoons can’t shake the World Tree’s calm. Unless the whole world collapses, the tree won’t waver.

Also… Sister Eina’s big house dwarfs the old relic’s tiny hut like a lake beside a puddle.

Tangxue pauses at the door for a beat, heartbeat tapping like a drum. Then she reaches out and knocks, knuckles tapping like rain on jade.

“Sister Eina, are you home?”

“My, my—it’s little Tangxue. Coming to me at this hour… did you make the Old Ancestor angry again?” Flora Eina opens the door with a bright laugh, light as wind chimes. She’s wearing an apron, a scent of lunch rising like steam.

“Mm… I… I accidentally carried out the Old Ancestor’s statue… like lifting a stone from an altar…”

“Hm…?”

“And then… that statue… turned into powder, like sand in a gust.”

“The statue… powder?!” Flora Eina loses control for a moment and yelps, sharp as a sparrow’s scream, which scares Tangxue.

I remember that thing is the Old Ancestor’s treasure… loved so much she carves copies for fun when idle, whittling moonlight and time. It shouldn’t be the original, right? Otherwise, the kid would’ve been hauled back like a fish on a line.

Flora Eina exhales, her stiff face loosening like thawed ice.

“Tangxue…?” Seeing the timid look on the child, guilt pricks her like a thorn. Did she just frighten her?

“Did I… do something really awful?”

“Awful…? A bit, yeah, like stepping on a shrine stone. But I believe if you apologize properly, the Old Ancestor will forgive you, like spring after snow.”

“Mm…” Tangxue nods, small as a chick.

“Ah, right—I’m making lunch. Want to eat with me, Tangxue?”

“Eh? Can I…? Thank you!”

Tangxue steps into the kitchen like drifting into a warm den. She’s here to mooch a meal, but she still wants to help Sister Eina, hands eager as wings. Cooking’s something she’s pretty good at, hands moving like water.

With a little assistant, Flora Eina’s pace quickens like a fresh breeze. Lunch for three comes together fast, a table blossoming.

Elves don’t like fatty meat; it feels greasy, heavy as mud. Because of that, their bodies store barely any fat, and their average weight runs lighter than other creatures of similar size, like willow over oak.

Still… elves can eat meats low in fat, like lean river fish. So for lunch, the meat to fruit-and-veg ratio sits around one to fifteen, a balance like spring to winter. The bento for the old relic follows the same rule, boxed like a little garden.