Day two. Another morning soft as silk and bright as polished jade.

Again, today was the day Scarlet Leaf would come see Lingcai, a red string tugging at her heart.

To greet it, Lingcai had prepared poorly, like patching a dam with paper.

Worse, she had to play a princess, then talk Scarlet Leaf into believing Lingcai still lived, a moon hidden by clouds.

Hard. So hard her breath felt like sand.

Lingcai wore no extra finery, a plain reed by a lake; Xueyu, though, was armed to the teeth like a black pine before a storm.

From mismatched leather to a longsword and studded boots, she looked ready to march onto a battlefield under cold banners.

Clothes make the person, like a saddle makes the horse; the more Xueyu screamed guard, the more Lingcai passed for a real princess.

At dawn, Scarlet Leaf’s letter arrived like a bird landing; they’d meet at a small inn in the capital.

“How do I act… I’m scared I’ll blow it…” Lingcai murmured, fingers twisting her hem like a trapped sparrow.

Xueyu strode beside her, straight as a spear, aura of a guard sharp as frost, while the “princess” shrank like a timid doe.

Seeing that, Xueyu smacked Lingcai’s backside with a crack, like a fan snapping shut. “Can you strut a little? Be fierce! That’s not a princess, that’s a rich girl dragged to a blind date!”

Lingcai punched Xueyu’s arm, a quick thud like a pebble on bamboo. “Talk if you want, but stop copping a feel! I want to keep a spotless virtue!”

You, spotless? Xueyu’s look said it all, as dry as autumn leaves.

“Fine, fine. I won’t argue. If your act breaks, you’re the one who eats dirt.”

She waved her off, a caution like a hand over a candle. The agreed room lay one door away, silence thin as rice paper.

Lingcai wasn’t dumb. She folded her hands over her lower belly like a temple statue and made her face solemn as frost.

Then she knocked, knuckles tapping like rain on a lantern, and waited. No answer drifted back, only the hush of a sleeping pond.

“Not here? Went out again?” Her brow furrowed, a ripple skimming water.

Xueyu tried the handle. The door wasn’t locked, a careless reed gate in wind.

Click.

The latch turned with a tiny note, and the door opened like a lid. They peeked in, eyes skimming the dim like minnows.

The room looked empty, yet on the floor lay a quilted mound, rising and falling like a breathing hill.

They tiptoed inside, feet like cats. In a corner, simple luggage slumped like stones, the bags still sealed like clams.

Across them rested a long blade with a dark red scabbard, a wine-stain in moonlight, but Lingcai’s eyes clung to the quilt.

At the center, the quilt rose and sank, a tide of sleep.

No mistake—someone was breathing. Under that blanket… Scarlet Leaf?

Listening close, they caught faint snores, kitten-soft, a whisper on moss.

As Lingcai wavered, torn about waking the sleeper, Xueyu’s gaze hooked on the blade like a fish to a lure.

Curious, she touched the hilt and eased the steel free, breath held like glass.

The blade was crimson tinted violet, its grain like drifting sakura petals in dusk.

Along the spine ran small script, neat as a brushstroke in winter air:

“Crimson Cherry Blossom Blade — Moonlight Clears the Heart.”

Xueyu had never seen its like; her eyes stuck to it like burrs, and she drew it fully from its sheath.

Ting—

At the chime of bare steel, the figure under the quilt burst up like a cicada shedding shell, wild and sudden as a thunderclap.

Before Lingcai’s startled gaze, she sprang at Xueyu with claws out, a fox defending its den. “Who goes there?! Hand over your life!”

From the blanket flew a young woman, lush and rounded as ripe fruit, energy bright as spring.

A white under-robe under a short jacket; brown shorts hugging curves like tightened bowstrings; pale-rose hair streaming, topped with rabbit-ear hairpins.

She pounced and bit Xueyu’s forearm where it gripped the scabbard, teeth snapping like a trap.

No doubt—this was Scarlet Leaf, Lingcai’s betrothed from back home, a mountain-flower with a bite.

Just woken, she took Xueyu for an enemy, eyes hungry as a wolf’s.

“Leaf—Leaf! Calm down!” Lingcai cried, panic boiling like oil, and rushed to stop her.

Scarlet Leaf snapped her head around, glare sharp as a drawn blade. “What did you call me? Who are you? You two thieves—how dare you rattle your auntie!”

Crap. Almost blew it, a vase tilting on a shelf.

At the first look, nerves and joy made Lingcai blurt “Leaf,” a name only she ever used, a plum blossom in snow.

Don’t blow it. Don’t blow it. Thank luck she didn’t catch it, slow as a lazy cloud.

Tongue tied, Lingcai couldn’t spin a yarn fast enough; words tangled like weeds.

Xueyu jumped in, trying to smooth the water with a leaf. “Uh, you’re Miss Scarlet Leaf, right? We’re… here on Cai-Cai’s behalf to see you…”

The sudden attack had rattled her, too; the words slipped like fish, and “Cai-Cai” popped out.

Those two syllables struck Scarlet Leaf’s heart like a pebble on glass, cracks racing like lightning.

She snatched the Crimson Cherry Blossom Blade, leveled it at Xueyu’s throat like an icicle, and snarled, “What do you call my Ah-Cai? Say it again! Who are you to her, talking that close?”

Gods, that patch made a bigger hole, a dam bursting at the seams.

Lingcai’s chest thundered with a stampede of curses, hooves pounding like rain.

After a heartbeat of blade-bright glare, Scarlet Leaf’s face shifted; realization lit stubborn fire like a lantern in wind.

“I get it now… Oh, Ah-Cai, good one. So that’s why you don’t show for years. You fell for city beauties! Two of them! You two! Tell me where he is! Today the faithless dog dies!”

She hauled Xueyu by the collar and pressed the edge, questions pelting like hail.

“No, no, you’ve got it wrong. It’s not like that.” Xueyu shook her head like a rattle drum, then launched the planned lie like an arrow.

“I’m a guard of Her Highness Princess Korol, name’s Xueyu. We came to tell you your husband’s on state duty and can’t meet for now… If you don’t believe it, look! This is Her Highness herself. Your husband’s a national merit-holder, so she’s come to meet you in person.”

As she spoke, she pointed toward Lingcai, a fan turning toward the moon.

Lingcai took the cue, breath trembling like a leaf. Acting, right…

“Y-yes… I am… heh…” The laugh stuck like honey; the room tilted, and the tide turned in a blink.

Now Scarlet Leaf panicked. She hadn’t expected this sky to split. She slid Moonlight Clears the Heart back and tossed it aside, then knelt where she stood, flustered as a sparrow in rain.

“Ah… I’m sorry. I was rude. Hello… I’m Scarlet Leaf… Please, don’t mind a country girl. I’m from the sticks. Don’t take offense…”

Faced with sudden deference, Lingcai’s guilt pricked like a needle in silk. “It’s fine, it’s fine. No harm…”

As she spoke, her hand drifted on its own like a moth to a candle and brushed Scarlet Leaf’s fingertip.

Scarlet Leaf felt the curly-haired loli before her staring, inching closer like the moon pulling a tide, oddness rising like mist.

One line circled Lingcai’s mind, round and burning as a brand: —I want to hold her. Hard.

Because of her face, she had to treat Scarlet Leaf like a stranger, a knife twisting in her heart like ivy.

Leaf, my Leaf… sobbing under a summer storm.

Scarlet Leaf couldn’t take that blazing gaze; she turned her head aside, prickly as a startled cat. “If you have words, please say them… I—I’m nothing special. Don’t stare at me like that…”

Before Lingcai could speak, Xueyu stepped in and lifted Scarlet Leaf’s hands, bold as a hawk diving.

Her expression seemed proper, but Lingcai saw desire gleam like frost under sun at Scarlet Leaf’s figure and face.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Scarlet Leaf. I’ve heard tales of you for a long time. Seeing you today, the name fits the flower. May we get to know each other?”

That truly threw Lingcai; her jaw dropped like a teacup hit the floor.

She’s taken, and the rightful partner stands right here—how dare you try to steal her in my face?!