"Come on! Face me head‑on!"

As Lingcai roared at Xueyu, a brittle crash from the doorway split the air like winter ice breaking on stone.

"Uh..."

Both pairs of eyes, drawn by that sharp sound like iron bells, snapped to the entrance of the Princess Manor.

There stood Miss Qiancao, the natural-born maid in a black-and-white uniform, hands held level as if still balancing a phantom tray.

At her feet lay a toppled wooden tray and a tea cup shattered into porcelain frost.

Classic.

A classic misunderstanding, a scene painted in the worst colors.

"You two..."

Her light-brown bangs fell like a reed curtain over her eyes, blotting her expression; a chill mist of dread spread through the room.

Lingcai and Xueyu both froze, silence hanging like a drawn bow; each waited for the other to speak first.

If either tried to explain, the ink would only smear darker, the more they brushed.

(Explain something, will you!)

Xueyu's heart grumbled, heat and shame buzzing like wasps; her mouth couldn't shape a rescue, not a single thread to stitch the torn scene.

(Xueyu, sis, I'm begging you—say anything... I'll be your ox in the next life...)

Lingcai prayed in a panic, mind spinning like wind through chimes; imagine it—someone stark naked yelling "Face me head-on!"—who would believe any clever defense?

So asking Lingcai to explain was like asking a fish to climb a tree—no way.

While the air held like a stalled thundercloud, Qiancao opened her mouth in an unexpected breeze:

"You two are playing together and didn’t call me? Count me in!"

She puffed her cheeks and launched at Lingcai like a bouncing cat, but both girls flailed into a quick block.

Lingcai was the first to steady, voice low as dusk while she held Qiancao back:

"...Before anything, what do you think we’re playing?"

"Huh?"

Qiancao widened her eyes and tilted her head like a curious sparrow.

"Isn’t it a punishment game?"

Xueyu latched onto the lifeline, nodding fast, her words tumbling like beads: "Yeah, yeah! A punishment game! We were playing chess—loser obeys the winner!"

Lingcai wasn’t slow; she slid down that slope like rain off tile: "Right, right! I only lost one round, but Xueyu lost a ton!"

Xueyu pinched Lingcai's arm in secret, sharp as a crab claw.

"...You’re the one who lost a ton—stop slandering me."

"...We gotta sell it, don’t we? You losing a few makes it believable... Quit twisting—ow," Lingcai muttered, pain pricking like needles.

Qiancao seemed not to catch the seams; she accepted the tale with a sunny blink, then asked:

"So, what kind of chess were you two playing?"

"Go!" Xueyu said without a beat.

"Gomoku!" Lingcai blurted at the same time.

Xueyu twisted Lingcai’s arm harder, heat rising like steam.

"...Gomoku, seriously... why not say Jungle chess while you’re at it?"

"...I don't know Jungle chess," Lingcai answered in a small voice, like a pebble dropped in a pond.

Keep bantering, why don’t you.

"So, count me in," Qiancao said, hands on hips, confidence bright as a paper flag.

From her tone, she really meant to join in that shameful play, a blush painted bold.

"Uh... well... how do I put this?"

Lingcai rubbed her head, a sheepish smile crooked like a bent willow; she quietly scooped up the clothes at her feet to cover herself, shadow like a shawl.

"...Thing is, you can’t play chess with three, and we already finished... Maybe next time."

Xueyu found the excuse first, thin as rice paper but enough to cover with this guileless maid.

"Aww, that’s no fun," Qiancao pouted, lips like a small red lantern dimming; her mood fell like a wet kite.

Lingcai's gaze slid to the overturned wooden tray, then to the porcelain shards scattered like pale leaves; the celadon pattern was simple, but palace things carry heavy price.

Seeing Qiancao had forgotten, Lingcai offered a quick reminder:

"Hey, uh... the tea set you broke..."

Qiancao jolted like a bell struck, finally seeing the mess; shock flashed, and she scrambled to clean, hands fluttering like sparrows.

"Ah! I’m so sorry! I’ll clean it right away!"

How does a natural airhead like this survive in the palace, a forest of rules and thorns?

Lingcai watched Qiancao's back as she swept, thoughts circling like swallows under eaves.

"I’ll bring fresh tea and sweets! Please wait a bit, little princess and Miss Xueyu!"

She whisked away the shards and tea, swift as a breeze through bamboo, then slipped out of the Princess Manor and vanished from sight.

For a heartbeat, only Xueyu and Lingcai remained, quiet as snowfall.

Lingcai stared at the door, then at Xueyu, helplessness pooling like ink:

"Let’s stop fighting each other from now on."

Before, Xueyu would have snapped, "Who’s your ally?" like a crack of dry wood; now she could only give a wry smile and two soft words:

"Same here."

Whenever she and Lingcai clashed, it never ended well—smoke, no fire; bruises, no victory.

Step.

Barely had Qiancao left the Princess Manor when brisk footsteps followed like rain chasing wind.

This time, the true master of the place walked in.

Kelor, the princess serving as regent for Ariex, entered the room with a storm on her brow, something dangling from her hand, face dark as a loaded cloud.

Seeing Kelor’s mood sharp as a blade, Xueyu and Lingcai didn’t dare chirp; they watched as she strode over, sat straight-backed, then cut them a sideways glance.

Stare—

Lingcai and Xueyu found the same trench at last; hearts stuttered like drums as they eased back a few steps, holding their breath for the verdict.

Kelor blinked, almost baffled by their skittish dance, and asked:

"What are you two doing? I’m not here to eat you."

"Uh... Your Highness, are you in a bad mood today?" Lingcai asked with a careful smile, like offering tea with both hands.

Kelor flexed her brows, then lifted her fingers to ease the knot there:

"So it shows. Is it that obvious?"

"It’s pretty—no, not obvious! I just guessed!"

Lingcai felt every word was a trap, thorns hid under silk whenever facing this princess.

Truly, serving a ruler is like walking with a tiger—every step on tiptoe.

Kelor looked at Lingcai and couldn’t help a weary laugh; the tight knot in her brow loosened a notch, and she flicked her hand:

"Enough guessing. I brought you a gift."

"Ah... a gift? For me?" Lingcai pointed at herself, disbelief fluttering like a moth.

Kelor finally tossed the thing she’d been carrying onto the table with a soft thud. It was a square gilded glass frame, its pine wood edging sealed with lacquer against time. Inside the glass sat lines of gold-stamped script:

Professional License

Hereby grants Alchemist Lingcai the qualification to practice Alchemy, ranked Upper Tier, Six Stars.

Identity bound. Any misuse will be prosecuted.

Senluo Year Three, August Sixth

Ariex National Alchemy Bureau

"This—this—" Lingcai’s eyes lit like lanterns the instant she saw it; she lunged forward and hugged it to her chest, heartbeat ringing like a bell.

"Isn’t this the Alchemy license they revoked? I thought it was destroyed for good! Where did you get it?"

Lingcai could hardly trust her eyes; joy surged so hard it pricked tears, a sudden spring after long frost.

Kelor rolled her eyes, cool as jade: "Who do you think I am? Even if it was destroyed, I can have the Bureau issue it again. It’s been rough on you. With this, you can go home and open shop."

Lingcai almost dropped to her knees, gratitude rising like a tidal moon; for the first time in ages, Kelor stood tall and bright in her heart.

"Thank you! Thank you! I’ve been waiting for this!"

Lingcai poured out thanks like a stream, but Kelor’s mood stayed heavy, shadowed like rain-soaked slate.

Lingcai, drunk on sudden joy, didn’t notice the chill beneath that gift, the storm still coiling behind Kelor’s eyes.