What kind of knotted-vine mess is this!

Soon after the alchemy room blew like a thunderclap under a slate sky, Kelor swept in from the Princess Manor like a stormfront at full tilt.

The moment she saw Lingcai, she let fly, words pelting down like hail on tin roofs.

What tricks are you pulling now? Planning a revolt? You’re playing with live lightning inside the palace? her voice snapped like a whip in cold air.

Fluster pricked first, then Lingcai mumbled a defense like a brook hiding under reeds. I wasn’t studying anything dangerous…

She wore Chicao’s black‑and‑white maid dress like a borrowed shadow, barely veiling a body fresh as dawn after rain.

Her height had shot up like spring bamboo by more than a handspan, and her chest had ripened to a neat handful like two early peaches.

Her hips had rounded like moonrise, and she now looked less like a pocket‑sized sprout and more like a seventeen‑year‑old bud ready to bloom.

Old poets would call that age a cherry at the lip of summer, bright with dew and full of juice.

Kelor’s blood spiked like boiling tea as she listened, and dark lines crawled across her brow like stormclouds.

That one blast rattled the cavalry, the palace guards, even the Emperor’s Star Ward into motion; and you call that not dangerous? her glare cut like drawn steel.

Bleakness came first, then Lingcai hugged her knees like a rain‑soaked cat. I didn’t want this either… it was that maid’s fault…

Anger flared like a brazier, and Kelor swung a chair around, crossed one leg over the other like a hooked spear, and glared like a hawk on a branch.

Enough—stop passing the buck, and tell me how we clean this up today, her words fell like iron nails.

Shame rose first, then Lingcai peered up, testing the water like a fingertip in winter river. What if… I pay with my body…

Kelor snatched up a fan, stepped in, and rapped her on the head, the tap crisp as bamboo. Have some self‑respect; this is the palace, not a brothel, and we don’t force the good into the gutter.

Helplessness welled first, then Lingcai rubbed her head like a pup blinking in rain. Then what do you want me to do…

Kelor shot her a sidelong look sharp as a paper cut. Nothing special—what’s done is done, and you’re going to do me a favor.

She clapped, a snap like a firecracker, and called toward the door like a bell across a courtyard. Bring the clothes!

In a blink, Xueyu came in with a gown and a crown, her steps quiet as snowfall on stone.

The dress was a size larger, a night lake of fabric, and the black stockings had lengthened into garters like raven wings; the crown was the same cold frost.

Don’t freeze up—change, Kelor ordered, her eyes flicking to Xueyu like twin sparks; and Xueyu offered the gown like a silver tray in moonlight.

With Xueyu’s help, Lingcai slipped into the princess gown and crown like a swan into water, every fold falling like calm waves.

When all was set, her small, fine feet slid into white heels prepared in advance, as neat as shells on a beach.

Xueyu braided her golden side hair into a twist like a wheat rope, looped it past the ear, and tied it behind to veil the human curve like a thin cloud.

All readied, Lingcai looked every inch an elegant, willow‑slender elf princess, a lantern of grace in evening mist.

Her features were carved like jade, her figure balanced like a bow at rest, and her porcelain skin glowed like dawn on snow.

She was so delicate a beauty that some cruel part of the heart might want to crush the glass flower and watch it cry like rain.

Ahem—such a thought is beastly, less than beast, like mud clinging to silk.

But right now, Lingcai carried that dangerous sweetness like honey that lures wasps.

Kelor eyed her, then jerked her chin at Xueyu like a sparrow’s nod. Well?

Looks perfect, Xueyu said, her words smooth as oiled wood.

Unease rose first, then Lingcai felt today tilt strange as a tilted moon. Perfect for what? What are you making me do now? Don’t tell me you want me to play princess again?

Be confident and drop the don’t, Kelor said, stuffing her white fan into Lingcai’s hand like a baton. Princess Sia will see you soon, and you’ll be me when she comes.

The name struck familiar like a bell from somewhere down a foggy street, and Lingcai frowned. Princess Sia… the one replacing you? What’s she got to do with this?

Kelor tugged at Lingcai’s gown, helpless as a winded kite. That dress is from Princess Sia; you think she sent it out of kindness, like dew on grass?

She meant to mock me—seventeen by age, thirteen by figure, short as a sapling that won’t grow, and flat, so folks call me the Flatlands Princess.

Pfft—Flatlands Princess… that’s savage, Lingcai snorted, laughter popping like a soap bubble—ow, ow, stop—don’t pull my face!

The moment she laughed, Kelor seized her cheeks like warm dough, dark lines flaring like ink.

You know it’s wrong and you still laugh? You’re begging for it like a drum asking to be beaten!

When Kelor let go, Lingcai rubbed her tingling cheeks, fingers warm as teacups, and muttered to herself like a cricket in grass.

Your Highness, you know I’ve been mouthy not just today, like a sparrow that won’t stop chirping…

Oh, so you’re in the right now?! Kelor’s tone snapped like dry kindling.

Fear quivered first, then Lingcai shut her eyes and leaned back like a leaf dodging rain, trembling in small shivers.

Damn it—afraid of pain, yet still mouthy, like a cat that swats then hides, Kelor thought, amusement rising like a curl of smoke.

She hadn’t planned to lay hands on her, yet seeing that well‑trained flinch made her itch to tease, like fingers drawn to fresh mochi.

So cute it hurts, so overdue for a pinch, her smile curled like a fox’s.

Kelor cupped Lingcai’s cheeks and kneaded twice like she was working soft dough, then released and pressed them inward like molding a bun.

Ee‑oo… mm… stop kneading… my face will fall apart like wet paper… Lingcai protested, words muffled like a pigeon in mittens.

Her mouth resisted like a token shield, yet her body stayed still as a tamed fawn, letting Kelor toy with her like a breeze with willow leaves.

Only then did Kelor let go, reluctant as a hand leaving warm coals, and brushed her clothes smooth like a palm over silk.

All right, that’s that, she said, voice clicking like beads. You’ll meet Princess Sia in my place, and save me from her short jokes.

If she mocks you, call her a big‑chested airhead full of wind, like a drum with no grain; if she lays a hand on you, hit her.

She even rubbed her knuckles, sparks in her eyes like flint, proof she and Princess Sia were oil and water.

Caution fluttered first, then Lingcai whispered like a reed in wind. She’s a princess, royal blood and all—how dare I hit her?

Roll your eyes less, Kelor shot back, cold as well water. You could kill her on the spot and I’d sign off, like stamping a slip.

That wasn’t just bad blood; it was a river of hate, dark as midnight tide.

Curiosity sprouted first, then Lingcai wondered what kind of person Princess Sia was to make Kelor grind her teeth like stones.

Unease pricked first, then Lingcai bowed her head and asked about her own fate like a mouse peeking from a hole. If I go… after I act, you won’t settle accounts with me, right…?

Hold it, I’ve got a question, Kelor cut in, her words dropping like stones just as Lingcai lifted her skirt to leave.

Of course she wouldn’t let me off so easy, Lingcai sighed inside like wind through chimes. What now…

It’s just… uh… mm… Kelor stalled, her tongue tangling like nettles as the question stuck in her throat like a fishbone.

Xueyu, a shadow at her side for years, knew at once and stepped in, voice soft as moth wings by Lingcai’s ear.

Her Highness wants to ask if you can copy that accident… make her grow like you did, from seedling to summer in one night.

So the princess doesn’t like being small, the thought fell like a petal in Lingcai’s mind.

Smack! Kelor’s palm hit the table like thunder over hills, and her face went dark as a new moon.

I’m not, I didn’t, and I don’t care, she huffed, words puffing like steam. That’s not even my question.

Fog closed in first, then Lingcai blinked, baffled like a deer in lantern light. Then… Your Highness, what did you want to ask…?

Kelor froze, then panicked like a cat caught stealing fish, and after chewing on silence, she found no good excuse like a net with no catch.

Xueyu frowned, puzzled like a finch tilting its head. Your Highness, you weren’t going to ask that? Forgive my boldness, but… what were you going to ask?

Kelor slammed the table again, a crack like splitting ice, and roared, temper flaring like a grassfire.

I’m f—ing not asking anymore, all right?!