“What’s this?”

Scarlet Leaf studied the silver cross-shaped knife Lingcai handed her, baffled; from every angle it was a useless trinket, moonlight hammered into ornament.

“Doesn’t feel like normal metal. Or maybe it just wears metal as a mask?”

She flicked the blade. The sound thudded like rubber, no bright ring, more swamp than chime.

If it wasn’t metal, she was out of her depth. She handed it back to Lingcai, grumbling like a cat in the rain.

“You’re really gonna run all the way to the Seven Northern Towns for this junk?”

“It’s not junk.” Lingcai almost snapped, then tucked it away with both hands, as if nesting a fragile egg. “It’s a component from an Alchemy engine, and it carries a prophecy.”

Scarlet Leaf scoffed, like flicking a sparrow off the railing.

“Prophecy, schmohecy. Sounds like a tale they spun to string you along. Don’t crown yourself the chosen one. Mission, my foot.”

Lingcai knew she couldn’t win stubborn to stubborn, so she changed tack and caught Scarlet Leaf’s hand, voice rippling with honey.

“Leaf, Leaf~ just think of it as a trip, okay? The princess said she’ll cover travel, food, lodging. Free ride. Call it a honeymoon.”

Scarlet Leaf still wore a sulky cloud, but “free” blew a little sun through it. She turned her face to Lingcai, closed her eyes, and offered her lips like a cherry bud.

“You get me?” She kept her eyes shut, lips gently puckered. “Give me ‘that,’ and I’ll go.”

This time, Lingcai didn’t hesitate.

Mua.

“That do?”

“Mm! That’ll do! Let’s go!”

Scarlet Leaf hugged her with bright, childlike glee, rubbing her soft, plush body against Lingcai like a cat kneading sun-warmed laundry.

Then a small hook of guilt tugged behind Lingcai’s ribs. She’d forgotten someone.

LilyBell.

Right. What about her?

Bring LilyBell to the Seven Northern Towns too? Asking the princess to cover one more felt like begging coins from the wind.

Just then, LilyBell drifted into view, face dim as a drizzly day.

Before Lingcai could speak, LilyBell called to her, voice hesitant as a sparrow on the eaves.

“Master, I need to talk to you…”

“Huh?”

LilyBell came up and unfolded a small slip of paper. Crooked spell-lines sprawled across it. Once open, the writing glowed faint blue, like snowlight on ice.

Mana-soaked script. Everyone’s magic was its own fingerprint, impossible to mimic, a built-in ward against forgery.

Lingcai still didn’t get why LilyBell was showing her this.

“Looks like code, right? You need the keybook to read it. Showing me won’t help.”

LilyBell spoke, cheeks flushed with shyness.

“I came to say goodbye. The message is a summons from the Garden Witches. Something happened at headquarters. They’re calling the witches back to help. So…”

Scarlet Leaf got it at once, musing aloud like a pebble skipping a pond.

“So basically this? The sect is in peril—return at once?”

LilyBell pecked her head up and down like a chick.

“Yes, yes! That’s basically it!”

Convenient. Lingcai hadn’t wanted to travel with a ticking bomb anyway. She went with the current.

“Go on. Stay safe. Don’t hurt people. If you can’t win, run. Your Master’s got your back.” She even waved as she spoke, putting on the big-Master act though she’d taught nothing but air.

LilyBell was swept away by those few perfunctory words. She dropped to her knees with a clean thump and bowed.

“Master’s words! I’ll carve them in my heart! I’ll serve you again someday!”

With that, LilyBell’s figure slipped beyond the church doors like a leaf on the breeze. Lingcai hid a quiet sigh of relief.

Good thing LilyBell had her own path; one less tagalong on the road.

“Let’s pack and head for the Seven Northern Towns. Quick. If we’re late, that stingy princess might refuse to reimburse us.”

She tugged Scarlet Leaf’s sleeve as she spoke.

“So… we’re not getting married in the capital?” Scarlet Leaf’s gaze lingered on the ruined venue, her voice a thread trailing through ash.

With the Duke of Prinn and his wife arrested, the ceremony had ended. Guests lingered, waiting for soldiers to ask their questions.

Those untouched by the duke’s dealings—the church staff, the emcee, the choir—gave names and addresses and were let go, like leaves shuffled from a deck.

Festive warmth cooled into frost. Only a few white-clad nuns swept the floor, their brooms whispering like winter reeds.

Lingcai sighed at the wreckage, a tide-gutted shore.

“Marriage really is the grave of love. Look at the duchess—saintly on the surface. The moment the storm hit, she sold her husband to save herself. No wonder people say: husband and wife are birds of one grove; when calamity comes, they fly apart.”

Scarlet Leaf heard the undertone, ripe as a plum. She slid behind Lingcai and wrapped her up.

“No matter what you become, I’ll love you. If hardship comes, I’ll back you forever.”

She brushed Lingcai’s earlobe with the tip of her nose, light as a feather.

“And you? Your turn. Say something sappy. Make my heart skip. Or it doesn’t count.”

Lingcai lay pillowed on Scarlet Leaf’s chest and thought hard, fishing in an empty river. Nothing surfaced.

“Maybe… not now? I’m blank. Rain check?”

“No. Now. Or I won’t let go. I’ll hold you till dawn.”

Being held felt like a giant plush bear swaddling her—soft, a little suffocating, oddly cozy. If not for all the stares prickling like needles, she wouldn’t mind being carried straight to a bed.

Still, mercy on passersby. No need to choke some lonely soul with envy.

While Lingcai rummaged for words, soldiers had already cuffed the Duke of Prinn and his wife, ready to haul them out.

She guessed they’d trade blame like geese in a storm. Sure enough:

“Nowhere left to run, huh? Got caught! Serves you right for trying to sell me out!”

“Oh, spare me. I told you not to take that deal. You insisted. Who’s to blame?”

“I did move arms, fine, but I never spent a coin. I saved it all—for you, for raising kids later!”

“You think it’s your turn to talk? You’re rich in greed, poor in soul! Next time I’ll break your legs!”

“Next time? We’re caught. There is no next time.”

“Then in the next life!”

“If I marry you again next life, I’ve burned eight lifetimes of luck to ash…”

Lingcai watched them go. Bonded wrists hadn’t dulled their tongues; their words still snapped like dry twigs.

The scene sparked a line in her. She spoke into Scarlet Leaf’s hair, voice soft as dusk.

“Leaf. If one day danger finds you—no matter where I am, even a thousand miles away—even if time itself splits us, I’ll cross time and space to reach you.”

Scarlet Leaf only hugged tighter, burying her face in Lingcai’s golden hair.

“Don’t say things like that… No talk of time and parting. Just stay by my side, always.”

“Okay, okay… No talk. We keep only this: I’ll cross time and space to reach you. Deal?”

“…Still no.”

“Then what do you even want…”

In that moment, the silver cross in Lingcai’s pocket flashed—light like a fish scale, there then gone.

She didn’t notice at all.