Chapter 25

Chapter 25: Star Calendar Year 6299, Cangcheng

Today's breakfast had no fried egg, but the congee contained century egg and fine shreds of pork — century egg and lean pork congee, its aroma rich and inviting.

Little Jingliu rubbed her crimson eyes, still not fully open, and drifted out of her room trailing a cloud of sleepy befuddlement. Her blue-and-white hair was tousled from sleep, a few stray strands sticking up as cowlicks.

"Morning, little Jingliu."

Wangshu's smile was radiant.

He was in a great mood today — so much so that just seeing little Jingliu's adorable, not-quite-awake face was enough to make his grin irrepressible.

"Morning~ little Wangshu..."

Jingliu murmured a vague reply. She hadn't even gone to wash up yet. The collar of her little house shirt was askew. She sleepwalked to the dining table, plopped down, and propped her chin on her arm, eyes still glazed.

"I'm so sleepy today... little Wangshu."

She whimpered, her voice syrupy and thick, lacking even the energy to puff up her cheeks.

"Well, we did stay up really late last night."

Wangshu pushed the congee bowl in front of her and sat down himself.

The body's internal clock still woke you up at the usual time regardless. Feeling sleepy was normal — the soul hadn't caught up with the body.

Jingliu may or may not have been listening. She absent-mindedly prodded the century egg bits with her spoon, poking and poking, as if waging a silent war against breakfast.

After quite a while, she finally seemed to gather a fraction of her scattered wits. She raised her eyelids and looked across at little Wangshu — full of energy, practically glowing — and tilted her face up blankly.

"You're not tired?"

She was mildly incredulous.

"Not really. Ever since I met little Jingliu, my schedule's been way better than before."

Wangshu scooped up a spoonful of congee and blew on it. Even after last night's late outing, this was still normal for him. His currently-several-years-younger body was telling him: the current routine? Not bad at all!

Jingliu sighed. Who knew what her future self had done — little Wangshu was the kind of person who was ridiculously easy to please. The tiniest bit of kindness could make him happy.

"When I go to the academy today, will you miss me?"

She sipped the perfectly tempered congee, then suddenly looked up. Her crimson eyes held a touch of testing and a hint of barely concealed expectation.

The century egg and lean pork congee was good — savory and refreshing. This dish, as long as you had it every few days, never disappointed.

Every time Jingliu raised her head, she saw little Wangshu in a good mood, and her own appetite slowly returned... Eating alone always devolved into mere efficiency. With two people, everything felt different.

"I will. But I'd rather not have a teacher show up tonight for a home visit, only to tell me Jingliu skipped class again today."

Wangshu's answer was sincere. Being with little Jingliu was fun, and he knew her talent lay in swordsmanship. But skipping school was still a bit too far ahead of the curve for his tastes.

Hmph!

"Don't you think me skipping class to come find you is romantic?"

She tried her hardest to find a justification for her behavior — one that was both reasonable and sophisticated.

"...That's the one thing I genuinely don't find romantic."

If anything, it was more worry and a sense that some gentle lecturing was in order... Wangshu didn't know if that made him old-fashioned.

Hmph. What an unlovable little Wangshu.

Jingliu gulped down her breakfast in great efficient mouthfuls, reverting to speed and practicality.

When it came time to leave for school, she grew wistful again.

What had she even cleaned up that bicycle for? Fantasy was beautiful; reality was cruel. In the end, the two of them took the portable cart to the academy.

The cart wasn't bad, actually. The retrofitted passenger seat was wide and comfortable enough that little Jingliu could lean back and catch a quick nap in the morning breeze, making up for lost sleep.

"Waaah, little Wangshu, I — don't — want — to — go — to — school."

She complained tirelessly. There wasn't much real suffering in it — it was more like, now that someone else was around, all those tiny emotions finally had somewhere to go.

She wasn't the cool Lady Jingliu right now. She could afford to grumble. Little Wangshu would understand.

Wangshu kept his hands busy, unfurling the banner. "I don't know enough about Cangcheng's social norms yet. Give me a few more days, little Jingliu — once I understand the employment situation here, I'll answer that question properly."

Jingliu: ...

"Actually, forget it. I was just venting. Ugh, why does Cangcheng have to be a place that cares so much about academic credentials?!"

She hopped off the cart and clenched her small fists.

"If only I'd been born on the Yaoqing. I heard their Cloud Knights include people who can barely read — and it's not even uncommon."

Then she could abandon academics for martial arts... though she didn't actually like fighting that much.

Now it was Wangshu's turn to go quiet. A certain character came to mind.

"Oh, little Wangshu — in the future Xianzhou, has this kind of mandatory... never mind. Does the mandatory education at least get more interesting?"

Standing at the academy entrance, Jingliu stared at the gates. She wanted to find common ground with little Wangshu, but he didn't seem to dislike studying.

"It still exists and it's universal. And it's probably more interesting, yeah... In any case, the Yaoqing definitely still has people who can barely read. And they live quite happily."

In a nation of long-life species, shifts in social norms were genuinely sluggish. In the future, there would even be someone like Li Dazhen.

Jingliu looked back one final time, murmuring: "This is all your fault, little Wangshu. I'm turning into a bad kid."

She hadn't even wanted to go to school before — but at least back then, she'd only been happy at school and when tagging along on after-school adventures with classmates.

"That's fine. If little Jingliu will be happier for it, then I absolutely support little Jingliu becoming a bad kid."

Life's margin for error was generous, but every misstep made starting over a little harder. Jingliu, though, was different — because Wangshu had always known about her talent.

A swordswoman who came once in a millennium, and... a pretty decent erhu player, too.

Jingliu blinked, sprinted deep into the academy, and only then whirled around. Her voice rang out, bright and clear: "I'm not 'little Jingliu'..."

And she wouldn't become a bad kid. At least, not the kind of bad her future self had become.

As if she'd fully recharged, she even mimicked the dashing swordsmen from storybooks — small hand raised in a sword-finger salute, lightly touching her brow, pointing it in Wangshu's direction with a little wave. Her smile was dazzling.

Wangshu returned a not-quite-standard sword-finger of his own. Just like little Jingliu, he watched the petite blue-and-white figure melt into the academy's morning crowd.

Once little Jingliu was seen off, the day's campaign to restore the glory of jianbing guozi was just beginning. Oh — and shouzhuabing too.

Shouzhuabing and jianbing guozi were actually hard to make on the same griddle, but thankfully, the multi-function cart courtesy of his wealthy patron had that covered too.

"Smells amazing~"

That familiar, soft voice sounded again. Miss Huoshi stood with her back to the sunlight, her hair seeming to glow from within.

Wangshu was no longer as timid as before. As if they'd reset to when they were still strangers, he lifted his chin with a grin, voice full of pride: "Homeworld Select!"

The partnership was probably going through. That's what Huoshi figured.

"One jianbing guozi and one shouzhuabing. All the toppings too, please."

She played the part of an ordinary customer — just a noticeably more animated one. Her gestures were a touch theatrical as she pressed her palms together, eyes brimming with anticipation.