The next morning drifted in like pale mist.

“Mmm... did the sky finally brighten?” Xuewei rubbed her eyes, sunlight needling her face like bright frost.

“Qianya! Why’d you yank the curtains open and spill a river of light?”

“It’s already past ten.” Qianya sat by the window like a cat in sun, black stockings glossed like ink while the light teased the skin beneath.

“Ten... even at ten you don’t just flood the room,” Xuewei muttered, guilt fluttering like a moth.

“Did you wake up on the wrong cloud?”

“Huh?” Xuewei scratched her head, clarity settling like cool water.

“Remember when we arrived—nothing but a sea of stars? I thought it meant we were far from any world. Now there’s a sun... it looks like we’re back on solid land.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Xuewei blinked, confusion drifting like fog.

“Wrong? Not exactly. But it’s daytime now, yeah?”

“Mm.” Xuewei nodded, as quiet as falling snow.

“I think the dream’s host is in a better mood. The sky changed like a smile breaking through clouds.”

“Huh? You mean we’re inside a dream?”

“...Xuewei, do you remember why we came, or did it wash away like footprints in rain?”

“To find our gege—Tangxue.” Her answer rose firm as a banner in wind.

“So you remember. And what are you doing now, in this current tide?”

“Doing what you said—waiting for gege to come, getting closer to classmate Yueyu so the bridges hold.”

“Mm...” Qianya nodded, a bit awkward, like a bird adjusting its perch. “We’ve almost hit our mark, but we’ve got zero trail on Tangxue. So I’ve got a new guess.”

“What is it?” Xuewei’s gaze steadied, clear as a lake at dawn.

“We might be inside Rain Moon Willow’s dream. Tangxue may have failed to enter for some reason. Or she did enter, but not in her own face—maybe she’s playing someone at the academy. If she won’t meet us, she’s either lost her memories or she’s hiding on purpose, like a fox in tall grass.”

“Eh? So gege already came, but she won’t see us?” Xuewei’s voice wobbled like a thin reed.

“Right. And her purpose is simple—she wants help from Rain Moon Willow to raise her power, like drawing fire from a sacred mountain.”

“Yueyu...” The name fell soft, like a petal on water.

“If gods are deathless, then the Ice Deity Rain Moon Willow may be the only supreme one still lingering in this world, a lone moon over a broken sea. She created Tangxue; she’s her mother. Right now, only she can meet the world’s crisis head‑on, and Tangxue knows that better than we do.”

“What scares me most is Tangxue choosing to sacrifice herself, like snow melting by choice. She must know the price for that power, so she keeps away from us, like a deer avoiding the torch.”

“Really...” The doubt hung like mist under eaves.

“It’s just my guess. If it’s true, we have to reach Yueyu before Tangxue does and turn the tide. And I’ve also wondered if Yueyu is Tangxue... that the true Yueyu might actually be someone else, like masks traded under moonlight.”

“Wait! Yueyu is Tangxue? Tangxue is someone else? Yueyu isn’t Yueyu? My head’s spinning like a paper windmill—I’m totally lost!”

“They’re only guesses. For now we hold our course and keep fishing for clues, until we learn Yueyu’s true face and end this dream, like closing a book at dusk. Does that land for you, Xuewei?”

“Just tell me what to do,” she sighed, her mood pooling like gray rain.

“Keep building good will with Yueyu. Leave the rest to me; I’ll carry the heavy stones.”

“I can do that! Being with Yueyu feels natural, like meeting kin. Talking with her flows without a snag.”

“Phew, I finally said it all.” Relief loosened Qianya’s shoulders; she stood and stretched like a willow in sunlight. Though her body was only twelve, her figure curved like sculpted jade, fuller than some at twenty; Xuewei stared, mouth slightly open, a tremor running through her like a startled bird.

“I’m heading out for lunch. Want to come?”

“Okay...” Her agreement fell soft as dust.

They dressed and walked toward the nearest cafeteria, their steps tapping like rain on stone. Qianya saw gloom in Xuewei’s face and asked, curious as a sparrow, “What’s wrong? Your mood looks wilted, like a bruised flower.”

“Don’t ask.” Xuewei rolled her eyes, a small wave of sulk washing the shore.

“Alright.” Qianya shivered, her shame pricking like cold dew under Xuewei’s accusatory gaze.

This time they met nothing unusual on the way; on the return they only waved to Dawn Sugar Snow, who was just stepping out, like sunlight breaking at noon.

“Uwagh! We skipped morning class; doesn’t that mean we’ll have to make it up tonight?” The worry pecked like crows.

“Tonight? Do we even have class?” The doubt flickered like a candle.

Qianya checked the schedule, her fingers gliding like fish over a stream. The afternoon was mostly combat, which they couldn’t join, steel clashing like thunder. As for night—few senior students teach then; dusk is when most people rest, like fields going still. She searched and finally found a senior with a night course, and after thinking it through, she booked a slot, a stamp placed like a seal in wax.

“Huh? Yueyu and Dawn Sugar Snow also reserved?” Qianya blinked, surprise rustling like leaves. Did they also sleep in this morning?

...Very possible, like owls staying up too long.

“Xuewei, we need to head to the lecture hall tonight.” The decision clicked like a latch.

“Huh? Why!” Her protest fluttered like sparrows startled.

“Because Yueyu and Dawn Sugar Snow are going. So we’ve got to go too, like boats keeping the same current.”

“They’re going too... ngh, guess we can’t skip.” Her head drooped like a wilted lotus.

“If you’re scared you’ll doze in class, take a good nap now. Don’t go out at noon; let sleep settle like warm sand.”

“What about you, Qianya? Will you nap too?” Her question rose like a bubble.

Qianya shook her head, gentle as drifting snow. “I’m going to the library.”

“You?” Surprise rang like a bell.

“To dig up materials and study magic. The knowledge here is vast, like a sea. If we can carry some out, it’ll benefit us both.”

“Then go. I don’t want to.” Her refusal lay flat as a quiet lake.

“Mm.” The assent was a small stone.

Qianya didn’t press. After lunch in the dorm, she rested a moment, then set out, footsteps light as wind over grass. Xuewei washed up and curled back into bed, ready for a noon nap, like a cat in sun.

Xuewei didn’t crave more power the way storms crave the sea; it tied to her body’s limits, like a vessel’s thin clay. Qianya could sense Xuewei holding back, like reins on a horse. Maybe that’s why she refused to deepen her magical foundation.

Xuewei—the first time I met you was during a visit to the Radiant Empire, banners shining like snow. Back then your hunger for strength burned hotter than anyone I knew; you learned sword and magic to their edges, like blades honed to mirror light. But now you carry none of that shadow. Is it because you removed the restraints of necromantic power coiled inside you, like chains falling from bone?

But that’s your secret. Until you wish to tell me, I won’t pry; my questions will sleep like stones in a river. Qianya closed her eyes and walked by feel, arriving at the library’s gate, a hushed arch like a cave mouth.

Tangxue, if you’re hiding, I’ll drag you into light like pulling a net from water. If you’re far, I’ll cross any distance, like a pilgrim under a cold moon. If you need me, I’ll help you with everything I’ve got, like a fire kept through rain.

“So, please give me this chance.” Her whisper fell like a prayer among shelves.