By afternoon, Bai Zhi stood over maps and rubble, cranes like iron herons as she marshaled crews to raise the capital from ash and frost.

With her hands idle, Xuewei linked arms with Tangxue and slipped to a nearby city left untouched, chasing a long-lost holiday like swallows hunting spring light.

For Xuewei, joy rushed like a warm tide; after years apart, a simple outing with her brother felt like a dream stitched from moon-silk.

But whether Tangxue saw it as a date was a cloud with a shadowed edge, drifting where wind and worry tangled.

Xuewei hummed before the mirror like a lark over a still pond, while Tangxue rocked on the balcony cradle-chair, eyes lost in a pale winter sky.

A prickle of dread crawled up like frost through bark; she kept feeling she’d forgotten something, the way a storm forgets its thunder.

‘That aggregation of evil intent Bai Zhi mentioned keeps snagging my mind, like a thorn under silk. What is it? Why do I dread it like deep water?’

Resolve set like iron under snow. ‘No. I have to know.’

“Brother~ I’m ready! So—how’s this outfit? Pretty?”

“Mm. Pretty.” Tangxue nodded with a thin smile, like a passing breeze, not the starstruck look Xuewei had painted in her heart.

“…” Xuewei froze mid-step, her smile beading sweat like dew on a leaf in a hot wind.

Panic burst like a drum in her chest. ‘No good. Weird. So weird! What kind of reaction is that, brother?!’

She’d spent an hour layering color like petals and years learning the craft like a patient gardener, yet she couldn’t harvest even one true compliment.

Was big sis right, that after a dozen years their bond had thinned like old ink, light enough to be forgotten with a sigh?

Seeing her face sink like a sunset into smoke, Tangxue’s own expression flickered with a quick, small fear. “Xuewei?”

“Ah—ahaha… Brother, you-you’re early. Do you, um, need something?”

Her gaze skittered like minnows in a stream; Tangxue remembered she’d always dodge like this when fear was gnawing.

“Xuewei, there aren’t any monsters here that can touch us. The city’s quiet as snow. Don’t worry.”

“…That’s not what I’m worried about.”

His awkward calm fell like a damp cloth on the sparks, and Xuewei steadied, though her face stayed bitter, like she’d bitten a green gourd.

“Pff…” Tangxue covered her lips, laughter rippling like wind in reeds. “I know what you’re thinking. Sorry, Xuewei. Too much has been happening to me—my mind drifted. I’ll make it up to you and really be here. Deal?”

“Mm… thank you, Brother.” Warmth rose like tea-steam in her chest; she wasn’t a child, and she could read the weight on his shoulders like storm lines.

“As for what’s been happening to me… if you want to talk, I’ll be your best listener,” she thought, heart quiet as a lantern in mist.

“It’s been ages since I came to the Radiant Empire,” Tangxue added with a rueful smile. “So you’ll be my guide, Xuewei?”

“Mm! Leave it to me~” Her joy fluttered like red ribbons, though regret tugged its tail—most of her plan had circled the Imperial City like swallows circling a fallen tower.

“Xuewei? Why that face again…”

“I’m fine, Brother! Let’s head out first. I’m a little hungry…”

“Mm.” At the word food, Tangxue’s stomach answered like a drum; afternoon tea was almost upon them like a soft bell.

Winter lay over the Radiant Empire like a gray quilt; fog smothered the sky, and the sun was a shy pearl seen only by rumor.

They dressed thick to blend into the crowd, layers like cocoons, footsteps soft as snow on old stone.

“Brother… why did you wrap yourself like this?” Xuewei stared; Tangxue was bundled so tight only half a face peeked out, like a cat from a blanket.

“Cold. And my identity’s a tinder spark. You don’t want our ‘date’ swarmed by strangers, right?” Tangxue’s tone was light, a leaf on wind.

“D-d-date…” Color flooded Xuewei’s cheeks like sunrise on apple skin, and her bright eyes darted like swallows.

‘So easy to coax, Xuewei.’ The thought curled like steam in Tangxue’s mind as she slid close and hugged Xuewei’s arm, a small bird clinging to a willow.

‘Even after growing taller, I’m still shorter than Xuewei… drat!’ The gripe was a tiny thundercloud that dissolved with a sigh.

The sudden touch shocked Xuewei like a splash of cold spring, her body trembling once, nerves plucking tight as zither strings.

“What’s wrong, Xuewei? Does this make you uncomfortable?” Tangxue’s ‘concern’ glimmered like dew under shade.

“N-no! Not at all! I just—”

Tangxue chuckled, soft as petals falling. “You’re just not used to it, right?”

“Mm…” She nodded meekly, taking the rope Tangxue threw like a lifeline on dark water.

“I’m afraid I’ll be in this form for a long while. I’m sorry. I can’t turn back into who I was.”

“It’s okay, Brother.” Xuewei shook her head, light as a bell chime. “To me, you’re you. Even if you turned to ash, I’d remember.”

“By the way, Brother… are we still blood, truly family?”

Tangxue blinked, then smiled open as a flower. “Of course.”

Her essence might have shifted like sand under waves, but Xuewei was still Xuewei, a name held like a talisman.

“Mm. Good.” Relief loosened her smile like thaw breaking ice, and she savored the quiet with him like warm tea in winter.

“Let’s try this place,” Xuewei said, pointing to a small shop glowing like an ember. “Their black tea’s lovely. If it’s strong, ask for sweet milk.”

“No need. Black tea’s fine.”

Once inside, Tangxue scampered to a window seat like a cat chasing sun, settling into a cushioned corner bright as morning, letting Xuewei handle the orders.

Xuewei returned, humming a tune like snowflakes spinning in light, and sat opposite, joy bright as lanterns.

“So pretty. What’s that song called?”

“Snow and Rain in Love~ Isn’t it lovely, Brother? Ehehe~ I had someone compose it for me.”

“Ah… haha.” The laugh slid sideways like a pebble in a stream. ‘I thought you wrote it yourself,’ Tangxue teased inwardly, embarrassment a faint pink mist.

Xuewei ordered a small mountain of sweets, a dozen at first, then more, their forks trading pieces like birds sharing berries on a branch.

For half an hour they fed each other, a back-and-forth of sugar and smiles, plates stacking like little pagodas on the table.

“This dessert shop’s the real deal,” Tangxue said, savoring a bite that melted like first snow. “It’s tucked in a back street, yet the crowd hums. Taste and texture both sing.”

“Hehe~ As long as you like it, Brother~” Xuewei’s cheeks were apple-red, bright as New Year, tea in her cup but wine in her smile.

Tangxue paused and glanced at her own cup, the surface dark as a quiet pond. ‘Did Xuewei add something? No… I don’t feel a thing.’

She dipped her head and took a light sip, a ripple over still water, then talked about the storms she’d walked through, words slow as drifting cloud.

Xuewei poured out a decade of woes like rain from a heavy sky, even pouting that he’d slipped away alone, a night bird without a farewell.

“I couldn’t help it,” Tangxue sighed, a leaf surrendering to current. “Heat of the moment, I guess. Call it fate.”

Meanwhile, somewhere in the city, something strange swirled up like a black eddy under ice.

“I’m so mad! What kind of joke is this?! I finally get a vacation to go home, and this happens?!” A woman raged in a shadowed corner.

She kicked and stomped an abandoned plush, a two-meter toy-bear pillow, its fabric old as a worn coat, seams tired as winter grass.

A middle school classmate had given it to her; now it was just a storm-post, a place to unload thunder, rude perhaps, but the gift that had stayed longest.

As she hammered the bear, a pitch-black lump fell from high above like a coal star, dropped into the nearby trash can with a hollow thud that rattled metal.

The sound clipped her breath like a knife of cold, and she shivered head to toe, a leaf seized by a sudden wind.