“…It doesn’t really hurt… but it kinda itches, like tiny ants… u-uu…”

Lingcai stood at the changing-room door, listening to the Little Moon Sage’s cotton-soft squeals, nodding along as if steam drifted off a quiet cup of tea.

Everything about the Little Moon Sage mirrored Lingcai’s younger self, a moonlit reflection on still water—only her pace of adapting moved faster, like swallows cutting the wind.

As for what was happening inside, Lingcai stayed outside to listen and imagine, thoughts blooming like night flowers—write more and the censors would descend like thunder.

While Lingcai idled in the doorway, a yin-yang voice from an elf woman slid into her ear, cold as drizzle on a winter spine.

“Well, well—if it isn’t Cai-Cai. Didn’t you swear you’d change back? How do you have time to shop here? Why not just live your life as a dumb loli?”

That grating tone was pure Xueyu, the Princess’s bodyguard, sharp as sleet under a slate sky.

Xueyu folded her arms and crossed her legs, leaning against the doorframe like a lazy willow, her voice smug and taunting, bright as a peacock’s fan.

“Everything on that side’s at least a C. With your A-minus, a Band-Aid does the job.”

She puffed her chest with pride, letters practically glowing on her face like lanterns in a festival parade:

We are not the same~ ♪

—Who’s competing with you.

Heat flared in Lingcai’s chest like a sparked coal; she returned Xueyu’s smirk with an eye-roll, flat as a tossed pebble skimming a pond.

Xueyu had only meant to pass by and tease her, but that eye-roll hooked like a fishbone; now she felt provoked, a cat with its tail stepped on.

“Heyyy? Dumb loli got used to it? You talking back to me? Come on, talk back again.”

She reached to pinch Lingcai’s cheek, fingers like cold rain on spring skin—Lingcai slapped the hand aside, crisp as a bamboo switch.

“Don’t bug me. That corner looks breezy; go cool off over there.”

Xueyu still managed to catch Lingcai’s cheek, tugging like a mean wind on a paper kite. “Alright, you’ve got some attitude, little girl.”

What rotten luck—of all streets, she had to run into this pervy storm cloud right here.

Xueyu was baiting her on purpose, trying to make her fluff up like a hedgehog; Lingcai refused to take the hook, ice settling like frost over a pond.

Seeing that hauteur, Xueyu only doubled down, mischief curling like smoke; she snaked her arms around Lingcai’s neck from behind, a willow trying to creep.

Lingcai’s face didn’t change; her elbow snapped back like a launched spring and hammered Xueyu’s unguarded belly, solid as a stone to the gut.

Xueyu crumpled, clutching her stomach and squatting, pain written on her face like storm-cloud brushstrokes—dead center hit, effect like a gong.

“Cai-Cai! You planned that!” she wheezed from the floor, hugging herself like a curled fern.

Lingcai stayed cold as moonlight, rolling her eyes again, a thin blade of silver.

“You asked for it. You’re horny all day, and any girl is ‘fair game,’ right?”

Xueyu shot back, still gripping her belly, voice ragged as torn paper.

“I like girls, sure, but I’m not that casual!”

“Oh? For example?” Lingcai folded her arms, looking down like a hawk perched over snow.

Xueyu squatted a moment, eyes spinning twice like little windmills, then a sly look bloomed like a poisonous flower.

“For example, my favorite to bully is that type who’s dumb-cute, looks clever but the gears don’t turn, can’t win yet keeps mouthing off, gives in the instant you press her—blonde curls, flat chest, tiny frame.”

Lingcai stepped in and thumped Xueyu’s head without mercy, knuckles rapping like a wooden fish.

“Let me guess—the job’s Alchemist too? Why not read my ID out loud?”

“Alright, alright, not arguing,” Xueyu waved lazily, hands flicking like dragonflies. “So what are you doing here? Weren’t you hunting an alchemical cauldron? How does a cauldron lead you to this shop? Looks like you’re here to ‘refine copper’…”

Lingcai glared back without yielding, eyes bright as flint. “And why are you here? Shouldn’t you be in the palace guarding the Princess instead of prowling the streets?”

Xueyu twisted Lingcai’s cheek again, fingers like a cold pinch from sleet. “Sounds like you’re calling me derelict. I’m out here taking shelter.”

“Taking shelter from what?” Lingcai’s words came thick, cheek pulled like dough.

“Today’s the handover for regency. Her Highness met Princess Sia, and the palace is about to be turned upside down like a shaken beehive. Meanwhile you? Not finding a cauldron, yet haunting this shop? Just be a dumb loli forever.”

“Say what you want—let go.” Lingcai’s cheek still burned under Xueyu’s twist, temper rising like a tide.

Seeing that proud face, Xueyu only got bolder, a fox tail swishing. “Nope. What can you do?”

“Let go.”

“Nope—what can you do? Left tug, right tug, ears twist, neck twist—mad yet? So mad you’ll hit me? Can those little short arms reach? And finally, a flick to your forehead—”

But the mood flipped in the next heartbeat, as sudden as lightning breaking a night sky.

Lingcai opened her backpack with black lines on her face like storm cracks, and pulled out two apple-sized Flamebombs with fuses, shouting like a torch flared in dry grass:

“Today I’m going down in flames with you—!”

Mother of—!

In that instant, Xueyu heard something snap like a bowstring; if she had to guess, it was Lingcai’s last strand of reason.

Xueyu understood at last—never bully the quiet ones. You never know when they’ll explode like a cornered badger.

“Hold your bombs! I was wrong, I was wrong! I get it! Put those down! This is a public street! Innocents will get hurt like leaves caught in a fire!”

She darted between shelves like a startled sparrow, dodging Lingcai’s charge with the bombs held high, pleading as sweat beaded like dew.

“If apologies worked, why invent bombs!”

Lingcai rushed her with tears and a roar, Flamebombs raised like twin suns—reckless courage blazing like a banner in wind.

Xueyu had only meant a little teasing; she never expected this storm. She could only bow and backpedal, words tumbling like scattered beads.

“I was wrong, I was wrong! Truly wrong! When we get back, you can prank me once! We’ll call it even, okay?! A-and—your fiancée! Don’t you still have a wedding back home? For your fiancée’s sake, put those away! If they go off here, everything burns!”

The word fiancée cooled Lingcai’s rage like rain on hot stone; her arms drooped, bombs sinking as strength leaked away.

Seeing her chance, Xueyu rushed in and plucked the two bombs from Lingcai’s hands, stuffing them back into the backpack like hiding embers in ash.

If anyone else on the street saw those, disaster would spread like wildfire. Better buried in the bag.

Then Xueyu dropped to her knees, bowing her head like a penitent under winter moonlight.

“I was wrong. Truly wrong. As compensation, next time you ask me for something, I’ll agree—just once, just once, and nothing too outrageous.”

Apologizing with haggling—what a piece of work.

Lingcai’s anger had ebbed like the tide; calm settled over her like dusk. Besides, she’d lost nothing and gained leverage—pure profit.

“Deal. Remember this, and don’t go back on it.”

She dusted her hands and closed her little alchemist’s backpack, obedient as a monk sealing a scroll. Xueyu finally exhaled, relief soft as falling snow.

Just then, a soft voice floated from deep in the changing room, light as gauze.

“Lingcai—? Are you outside? Can you come in and take a look—?”

The tone was fluffy-soft, a weak little loli voice like marshmallows in milk.

That line drifted straight into Xueyu’s ears; her face changed like a cloud’s edge, and she jabbed a finger at Lingcai, eyes wide as saucers.

“You—you claimed you were out hunting a cauldron, but you’re here flirting with other girls?! No wonder you kept watching without going in! I misjudged you!”

“I’m not, I didn’t! You’re misunderstanding! She’s—”

Before Lingcai could finish, the changing-room door swung open like a curtain, and a flustered clerk tried—and failed—to push it closed again.

Inside stood the Little Moon Sage, utterly unaware of her own figure, in black underwear with white lace, pale as moonlight and calm as a snowfield.

“Lingcai, since you’re outside, answer me. What do you think of this set?”

A white-haired, red-eyed little loli lifted her chest and presented herself, innocence shining like frost under sunrise.

“Pff—”

Great Sage—please read the room!

The air turned awkward in a heartbeat, sticky as summer humidity; no amount of soap would wash this clean.

Xueyu’s gaze locked onto the Little Moon Sage, eyes glazing like a cat watching cream, her neck craning as if she could slide into the changing room.

She turned back, hands landing on Lingcai’s shoulders like eager birds, attitude flipping faster than a fan.

“…Where did you abduct this child from?! Are there more girls like her? Introduce me! Please!! I’ll do anything you want afterward!”

Lingcai yanked her hands off, patience snapping like brittle ice.

“Get a grip! You trashy woman!!”