“Shopkeeper, how much is this?” Dawn Sugar Snow lifted the piece like a shard of moonlight between her fingers.

“Seven thousand,” the girl said, her voice flat as a still pond.

A young girl sat in the back like a winter willow, not much taller than Dawn Sugar Snow, yet her aura pressed like a cold front.

“Seven thousand?” The number hit like a pebble skimming a quiet lake.

At Heavenly Deity Academy, seven thousand credits was no drizzle; in a night market of trinkets, it felt like a thunderclap.

“You’re a freshman, right? You’re hesitating over this?” The gray‑haired girl’s eyes swept her like a breeze measuring branches.

“So what if I’m new? What changes?” Dawn Sugar Snow smiled, light as frost on glass. “If you want me to buy, tell me why this piece is worth the stars.”

“It’s the embryonic form of a Divine Artifact,” the gray‑haired girl said, steady as bedrock. “I can’t promise you’ll awaken the spirit inside, so the price is fair; a true embryo wouldn’t show up here.”

“Fair enough.” Dawn Sugar Snow’s smile was a crescent moon; she cradled the ice‑sword model like a newborn icicle.

“I’ll take it.” Her words landed like a seal stamped in wax.

The gray‑haired girl nodded, a leaf stirred by no wind; Dawn Sugar Snow signed the agreement, ink flowing like a stream, the deal done without spending a single credit.

“Whew, I made it!” Qianya braced her hands on her knees, breath ragged like a bellows after a sprint. “Why’d you all bolt like startled birds?”

“Ah, sorry, Qianya,” Dawn Sugar Snow laughed, silver bells in a quiet alley. “I saw something good and dragged Yueyu over—couldn’t let it slip.”

She showed her catch, gleam like ice under lantern light.

“This is for you, Yueyu,” she said, warm as dawn on frost. “You can awaken it, and it fits you; you kept telling Sis you had no handy Divine Artifact—well, now you do.”

“Sis… fine.” The word was small as a snowflake.

Unease fluttered first in Yueyu’s chest like caged sparrows; still, she trusted her sister’s eye like sailors trust stars. She took the ice sword and sensed lightly, as if touching still water with a reed.

A presence stirred within like wind under ice, a quiet answer returning from the deep.

‘An artifact spirit?’ The thought rose like mist before sunrise. ‘If so, I might truly refine my own Divine Artifact.’

Yueyu only nodded, snow‑soft, then blinked at her sister, a firefly signal in the dark.

“Heh‑heh, looks like you like the gift,” Dawn Sugar Snow purred, a fox pleased with its stash. “If you’re happy, today’s trip already paid off.”

Their chatter made Qianya itch like grass in spring; she nudged Xuewei with her elbow, a playful jab like a pebble in a stream.

“Shouldn’t we buy something too? Feels like we’re taking a loss,” she whispered, rain‑light and eager.

“I’m not buying; if you want, you buy,” Xuewei said, cool as shade under a pine.

“Ugh… forget it.” Qianya’s head drooped like a wilted sprout; she knew there’s no free lunch, truth as old as mountains.

So far, her spending tracked like beads on an abacus; even if a month later she had to repay, she could wrestle it down like a short storm, but more splurging would be a flood.

“Hehe.” Dawn Sugar Snow chuckled, stream‑clear. “Relax, Heavenly Deity Academy isn’t the pit you imagine; what looks pricey to you might be cheaper than the food the Student Council feeds you.”

“Ah!” Qianya gasped, surprise flaring like a struck match.

“Anyway, enjoy this campus season,” Dawn Sugar Snow said, eyes closing like petals at dusk. “Here, you don’t need to worry about those shadows.”

“Let’s go, everyone,” she added, stepping ahead like a guide under lanterns. “I know a place that might have real goods; let’s use the chance to squeeze that old fossil dry.”

A moment ago she wore an elder’s calm; now Dawn Sugar Snow grinned like a sly fox, her smile climbing toward her ears like twin hooks.

“Old fossil… Tangxue, do you mean the Student Council President?” Qianya asked, words tiptoeing like a cat.

“No,” Tangxue said, breeze‑light. “I came here at her invitation, sure, but I still don’t know where she went; maybe she went into seclusion like a closed cave. I might leave this academy without seeing her again.”

Qianya’s mouth parted, surprise bright as a falling star.

“I wanted to meet the president…”

“I don’t know her trail,” Tangxue said, voice like water on stone. “Ask the Student Council and you might catch a thread. Qianya, are you curious about her? What kind of curious—looks, or strength?”

She leaned into “looks,” teasing like sunlight on ripples.

“Both,” Qianya said, steady as a drum.

The thought came first, a chill behind her ribs like a passing cloud: the president was also a suspect; better to meet face‑to‑face.

“Oh?” Dawn Sugar Snow giggled, bells in the wind. “By looks, the President of Heavenly Deity Academy ranks top three among all deities I’ve seen; suitors swarm like bees, and even among the Ten Main Gods, more than a few are sweet on her. If you plan to make a move, think twice.”

“I don’t mean it like that! I’ve said that a hundred times…” Qianya’s exasperation frayed like a ribbon in wind.

Tangxue stepped back with a grin, dancing like a spark. “Just kidding. But it’s a kind warning: if you ever get her alone, don’t pull anything weird.”

“I know… thanks, Tangxue,” Qianya said with a bitter smile, a crooked moon. “But I need to see her first.”

“Haha, true.” The laugh drifted like smoke.

Talking, they left the bustling street, the tide of voices fading like ebbing surf; ahead, few stalls dotted the road, but a small house gleamed, gilt like a shrine under noon sun.

“Hm? This…” Qianya’s curiosity lifted like a kite.

“That guy’s the same as ever—loves to show off,” Tangxue said, grin sharp as lacquered gold.

She reached forward, fingers brushing the air; an unseen barrier shivered like a glass lake.

“This probably filters out freshmen,” she murmured, mischief bright as fox‑fire. “Too bad it doesn’t work on me.”

In Tangxue’s palm, her divinity ran backward like an eddy, and transparent ripples spread outward like rain rings; Qianya felt a soft breeze kiss her cheek as the obstruction melted like frost.

“Let’s go~” Tangxue hummed a tune, light as a lark, and stepped inside; at once, an unfriendly gaze snapped to them like a drawn bow.

“You again? What are you doing here?” The voice struck like a cold draft.

“What, not welcoming me?” Tangxue sauntered over, smile lazy as summer. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” She perched on an expensive‑looking gold table like a cat on a warm sill.

“Off, off, this table’s pricey!” The blonde girl pushed, hands fluttering like anxious sparrows, but it did no good and she knew it.

Qianya watched them horse around, curiosity budding like spring plum; she studied the blonde girl—shorter than Yueyu, silk robes drifting like clouds, brows pinched yet cute as a kitten, golden hair cascading in threads that caught the light like spun sun.

“Enough teasing, Julan,” Tangxue said at last, smile a knife wrapped in silk. “You’re a second‑year now, right? As you can see, I’m a first‑year. I’ll follow proper procedure and ‘buy’ a few things from you—no objections, right?”

“You—what are you trying to pull? I’m not selling!” The blonde’s panic flared like a struck tinder. “Don’t touch that!”