That little monologue stayed a whisper only Qianya heard, like wind sealed in a jar.

After the afternoon’s study, she carried her books back to the dorm like stacking warm bricks; Xuewei had woken and was washing up, foam bright as frost.

“How was your nap?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking how your studying went?” Xuewei glanced at her in the mirror like a cold moon on still water, then kept brushing, the toothbrush scraping like tiny oars.

“…Right now I could steamroll the me from a few days ago, like a blade through paper. The knowledge buried in me is ore I never knew I had. Xuewei, won’t you use this time to learn some Miracle Magic?”

“That won’t help me, so forget it.” Xuewei shook her head like a leaf refusing the wind, then wiped her cheeks with a towel and stepped close, sensing her like testing the air.

“Mhm. I don’t feel any change. Qianya, your mana cap’s still the same—the needle hasn’t moved.”

“What grew is knowledge. Miracle Magic—I’d only heard of it before, but now I’ve learned at least seven kinds and can cast them smooth as flowing water!”

“But your mana didn’t grow,” Xuewei said, cool as shade.

“I told you that’s not the point…”

“Without divine mana to support it, you’ll burn out after one divine spell, like a candle snuffed by a draft.”

“…”

“You’re right, Xuewei.” Qianya’s face went solemn, like a lake icing over as a thought fell into place.

“I get it. Why we haven’t grown stronger—there isn’t spare mana here for us to breathe in. The divine mana that remains is spent holding this world steady, like pillars propping a sky. In this space, everything we feel comes from the dreamer’s memories… We can draw knowledge from it, live among gods in peace, even be hoisted to a realm that isn’t ours—all because of the dreamer’s impression of us, like light cast by someone else’s lantern.”

“Say it in human,” Xuewei said, deadpan as stone.

“Knowledge is power! Even if our mana won’t rise, the knowledge here is enough to give us wings, Xuewei!”

“…I’m not into god-lore, Qianya. I’ve told you that a lot,” she said, voice flat as snow.

“So you already knew how this place works, huh, Xuewei.” Qianya’s gaze tangled like thread in a breeze.

“Yeah. But seeing you that focused, I didn’t have the heart to knock on the glass.”

“Heh, but I really feel stronger, even if it’s just being able to fire off one more Miracle Magic, like adding one more lamp in the dark.”

“Then, Qianya—do you think that Miracle Magic will help our brother later?” Xuewei looked at her, suddenly serious as a drawn bow.

“Of course it will!” Qianya said, vow firm as iron.

“I can do Miracle Magic. Brother can too. She can even chain-cast it, like waves hitting in sets. And I can tell the cult’s officers can free-hand Miracle Magic. We don’t have time to start from scratch, Qianya…”

“I…”

The words snagged. Xuewei felt like a stranger, a winter wind in a familiar room, yet every word of hers fell like a stone pillar on Qianya’s back, pinning every other thought.

It was all true. If they started now, it was too late; even if they drank every drop of knowledge from this dream, they still couldn’t threaten the cadres of the Flower of the Other Shore, and by then they might’ve already unsealed the evil god, like a floodgate thrown open.

“You’re right. Looks like I’m the one who lost the trail,” Qianya said with a bitter smile, then shook her head and stepped into the bathroom. She splashed water on her face like rain on pale petals, then lifted her eyes to the mirror and stared at her own soft, bloodless cheeks, fogged by doubt.

‘Why did I come here, again?’ The thought rang like a pebble dropped in a well.

‘To find Tangxue. I like her. I want to be with her, forever, like two lanterns side by side.’

‘Right. I came to stop her from sacrificing herself. I can’t watch her walk into death…’

‘Save the world? No, I never planned that… I followed because Tangxue wants to save this world. But now…’

After washing her face, Qianya opened her eyes calm as a clear pond. Looking at herself in the mirror, she found the reason she’d come, like a signpost in fog.

“Let’s go, Xuewei. Whether we stop Tangxue or help her, we have to find her first, right?”

“Where?” Xuewei tilted her head with a small smile, like a cat in sun.

“To class, of course!”

Before class, dinner first. They went to the cafeteria again, a bright harbor of steam, and happened to run into the Yueyu sisters over their meal.

“Yueyu—can we sit here?”

Yueyu gave a small nod, eyes never lifting, eating with the focus of a heron at a stream.

‘Fish? She really does love fish,’ Qianya thought, the silver flesh flaking like scales of moonlight.

She sat beside Xuewei, keeping a bit of deliberate distance, like a palm-width of cool air.

“Yueyu, what do you think of the school’s braised fish?”

“It’s okay,” Yueyu said, voice flat as a still pond.

“Ahaha, I think it’s a bit bland, though.” Qianya lifted a piece of braised fish into her mouth, savoring it like tasting rain.

“Spicier would be better.”

“Yeah. The school’s chili sauce still isn’t it—more smoke than fire,” Yueyu said suddenly, like a spark catching.

‘Yes! Hooked!’ Qianya cheered inside, a tiny firework in her chest.

“I’m actually pretty confident in grilled fish. When I was little and food was scarce, I had to catch fish by the river, like shadows slipping through reeds. To earn money, I’d process the day’s catch every night and rush to the market—the lights were a river, and I was always dead tired. But it means my grilled fish is really good—hehe.”

“Oh.”

“Yueyu, how about this: after class, the four of us go to the nearby river and grill our own fish? I can teach you! I promise you’ll make chef‑level grilled fish in one evening!”

“…?”

Yueyu seemed interested; her eyes finally lifted, soft as dusk, landing on Qianya.

Qianya’s heartbeat quickened like a drum under silk, and just as she opened her mouth to keep going, she blurted, “Sis! Over here!”

“Sorry—please let me through, Qianya,” came a warm voice like sunlight.

Dawn Sugar Snow arrived carrying several plates of seafood, tides on porcelain, but Qianya’s seat blocked her path, so she had to halt like a stream hitting a stone.

“Ah, I’ll help you carry those,” Qianya stood to help, but Yueyu’s tiny, discontent glance cut like a thin blade, so she backed off and stepped aside.

“Thanks, Qianya.” Dawn Sugar Snow dipped in apology like a willow, then took the spot Yueyu had saved for her.

“Tangxue, we were just talking grilled fish. Want to hit the river after class and make some? Call it a midnight snack.”

“Grilled fish, huh. Yueyu, you in?”

“If you go, I go,” Yueyu said, loyalty simple as a knot.

“Hey, don’t dump the decision on me,” Dawn Sugar Snow said with a wry smile, then nodded. “Sure—if we don’t stay out too late.”

“Heh, we won’t! Grilled fish isn’t hard. Even Xuewei can learn it in two hours!” Qianya said, pride bright as a banner.

“I didn’t even provoke you,” Xuewei shot back, a sideways glance like a flicked fan.

“It’s just a figure of speech. I can teach everyone to make chef‑level grilled fish in two hours, I swear! Believe me!” Qianya thumped her chest, the sound like a small drum.

“Pfft. That look on you is rare and cute, Qianya,” Tangxue said, hiding a laugh like bells behind her hand.

“Ahem. I actually wear this face a lot around friends,” Qianya said, grin blooming like spring.