Boo-hoo... why am I this dumb? The thought pricked like a thorn in the dark, after a night knotted like tangled yarn. She finally made the other side understand, and the kid sipped hot milk like a beam of moonlight, then fainted again like a wilted lily.

Yaya collapsed onto the sofa like a puddle after rain, boneless and heavy, and sleep pulled her under like a slow tide.

Morning, thin as mist at the eaves.

...?

Unease rose first, like a fish flicking in a net. What’s on me? Why do I feel something lying on my chest like a warm cat?

Yaya’s eyes snapped open like shutters in wind, and her gaze went straight to the weight on her.

Oh. It’s you. Her voice drifted like smoke as she glanced at the small girl sprawled on her, then her lashes fell like moth wings, and she sank back into sleep like a stone in a pond.

Yesterday wrung her dry like laundry in winter wind. Today, she didn’t want to move a finger. Dreamsound’s father was away on a trip; counting the new little one, there were three under this roof like three lanterns in one hall.

Dreamsound… Dreamsound must be waking soon, the worry fluttered first like a sparrow. I should help them with breakfast, the thought followed like a trailing ribbon.

But the quilt felt like a mountain of snow, and she whimpered inside, muffled as if under wool.

Yaya heaved and rolled like a lazy seal, then slowly sat up like bamboo unbending.

It didn’t matter if she went hungry, a calm like cold water. But Dreamsound and that little one were children; you don’t let saplings starve in a dry season.

Gotta get breakfast ready, she murmured, the words drifting like steam.

She drifted to the fridge like a drowsy cloud and pulled out a few green cookies, long-prepped and stacked like jade tiles.

She remembered: her mother had brought them days ago, soft as moss. Ever since Yaya moved out, no servants came by like ants in a line; at home there were other princes and princesses, a whole forest of crests.

Put plain, she’d stepped out of the struggle like a boat leaving the current; most eyes measured her as a dull pebble with no shine.

She knew a little pleading could bring servants back like swallows to old eaves—parents, elder brothers, elder sisters—but her pride stuck like burrs, and she disliked servants crowding her home like reeds.

She’d begged her parents for a corner inside the palace to live alone, because the palace buzzed with servants like a hive.

Those odd-looking cookies she’d eaten often, their taste steady as brown bread, filling as winter root, and good on the body like spring greens.

After heating, Yaya squeezed on cream and jam like lace and sunlight, then yawned wide as a cave and set the plates on the tea table and the dining table like laying two small altars.

Sleep tugged again, soft as tidegrass. Breakfast’s done; those two little ones can eat on their own, she thought, the idea floating like a drifting leaf. So if I lie down now—

Mom!

Dreamsound slid down from atop her head like a playful otter and hugged her neck, cheek rubbing like a kitten against her hair.

Why did you get home so late last night, Mom? I waited till I fell asleep, the complaint fluttered like a paper kite.

I… I got lost, Yaya said with a sheepish smile like a crooked crescent, and she reached up to touch her daughter’s arm, warm as a perch in sun.

Dreamsound’s up so early today… Breakfast sweets are ready, like little moons. Let’s go eat together.

Mm!

She’d wanted to sleep, a sigh like dew melting, but breakfast came first like sunrise.

One little one had already scampered to the table like a squirrel and was seated in Dreamsound’s usual spot like a tiny queen on a borrowed throne.

Dreamsound’s mouth parted like a shell; she stared at the stranger in her chair, stunned as a deer.

Yaya sighed, her breath like a wind chime. Half-awake, she’d nearly forgotten there were two to tend now; one stacked chair wasn’t enough like one step on a staircase.

That’s my spot! Dreamsound pounced like a kitten, and they tumbled into a scuffle like two ducklings splashing. The new little one didn’t care about the fuss; back turned, she hurried a green qingtuan, a soft dumpling like a jade pearl, into her mouth.

Mm-mm—mmm. The sound muffled like a drum in cotton. Yaya had made them extra soft, fearing the child’s teeth were weak like new leaves; but the ball was too big, and it stuck in her throat like a stone in a narrow stream.

Dreamsound watched the girl’s face blanch like paper, panic spiking like a startled bird. Are—are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, she babbled, words scattering like petals.

Too bad the other girl didn’t understand, her eyes swimming like fish in cloudy water.

The little one toppled and lay on the floor, choking and rolling her eyes like a tide gone wrong, and Yaya flailed for a moment, hands fluttering like startled sparrows, before she grabbed a cup of warm water and poured it down like rain on parched earth.

Soulwater had no body; you could drink it and gain nothing, like wind through bamboo. Only clear water worked, simple as a well.

The little one seemed even thinner than Dreamsound, a reed in a breeze, just a touch taller like a sapling next to a sapling. Dreamsound had been lively from birth, fireflies in her blood, so this was Yaya’s first time caring for a frail child like a candle in a draft.

Poor thing… She must’ve gone hungry for days, the pity spread like warm dye. Yaya remembered the Ice-Sheet Continent, blank as bone; there was nothing to eat but wind, so yes, likely.

Dreamsound, this child may be staying with us for a while, Yaya said, voice soft as down. You’re the older sister; you have to take good care of her, like a willow shading a brook.

Older sister… what’s that? Dreamsound looked up, eyes round as moons.

At home she was the only little treasure, a single bell in a quiet hall; besides Mom and Dad, she only knew some relatives, and she’d never seen a sister, not once like a starless night.

After all, Yaya was the only princess who’d married early and set her own hearth, like a crane that nested first.

A sister… a sister is the family closest to you besides Mom, Dad, and grandparents, Yaya tried, her brows knotting like twined vines. In her short life, only her elder brothers and sisters had been as warm as hands over coals.

Ah! I know how to say it! A girl older than Dreamsound is called an older sister, jiejie; a girl younger than Dreamsound is called a younger sister, meimei, she brightened, her smile opening like a fan. You look a bit older than this cute one, so you’re her jiejie.

A girl younger than me is a meimei… then she’s my meimei? Dreamsound tilted her head, the question clear as a pond.

Mm… I think so? Yaya answered, unsure as a cloud’s edge.

This child isn’t male, but doesn’t quite look female either, she thought, the thought drifting like pollen. But she’s so cute; we’ll call her a girl for now, like naming a star.

Another knot undone, Yaya’s eyes curved like new moons in delight.

Anyway, Dreamsound, take good care of your meimei, okay? Mom’s going back to sleep, she waved, languid as a cat in sun. Play nice with your sister, understood?

Got it, Mom.

Yaya floated back to her room like a leaf on a current and crashed on the bed, not a flicker of motherly example, just a gentle snore like a cricket.

Qingyu Mengyin sat there blankly on the chair, curiosity bright as morning dew, watching the “meimei” in her pajamas curled on the floor, still stuffing food like a squirrel.

Hey, what’s your name?