The next day...
The hours slipped by like a quiet breath, and evening settled over Hongzhen with unspoken grace. Snow clung to the rooftops, catching the peach-hued glow of lanterns as they blinked to life, painting the town in warm, amber light.
The cobbled streets shimmered in their halos, while shutters creaked closed and the last notes of a shamisen drifted above the scent of chestnuts and soy glaze.
Wind stirred the chimes outside shuttered shops, their brittle music fading into the hush of the winding alleys. A few vendors lingered, murmuring farewells; elsewhere, a street performer plucked at loose strings, more out of habit than hope.
And... At a quiet corner table, beneath a hanging paper lantern, a server set down a steaming plate with a smile and a practiced grace. "Hongzhen special. Crispy pork belly."
Lian bowed his head slightly in thanks. Across from him, Uncle Fu tapped his chopsticks, giving a look that needed no words.
He had invited Lian to dinner that evening, and now gestured toward the plate with a familiar grunt. "Eat up, lad."
Lian smiled faintly, his posture light with courtesy. "Then thank you," he murmured—just as the moment was broken by the scrabble of paws and flutter of wings.
A fox-squirrel and two curious birds edged closer, drawn by the scent of food. Fu waved them off with a grumble. "Shoo!"
Lian blinked, slightly awkward—he'd been just about to offer them a bite.
Fu gave him a sidelong glance, muttering, "You said you ate the day before yesterday, but coming from you, it doesn't sound convincing. Besides… we're not meant to skip meals, lad."
Lian gave a soft chuckle, shoulders lifting in a modest shrug. "I'm not an ascetic," he said, voice low and even. "Just not so attached to hunger."
There was warmth in his tone, quiet and real. But he didn't reach for the plate alone.
"Let's eat together," he offered.
Fu blinked, then huffed a short laugh and picked up his chopsticks.
But Lian paused as he remembered, "Ah. Almost forgot her."
Fu glanced up, curious. 'Her?'
He briefly wondered if the lad might be seeing someone—but the thought scattered as Lian set his Terminal on the table. Gourd-shaped and smooth, it caught the lanternlight, glimmering like moonlit jade.
A faint hum stirred the air. Then, a shimmer—like ripples spreading across still water.
Then, she appeared — Hanya.
Small. Childlike. A presence that felt not of this world, but of a dream half-remembered. Her midnight-blue hair flowed down her back, laced with threads of starlight.
Her skin glowed faintly, as if moonlight passed through porcelain. Violet eyes blinked slow and wide. Horns curled from her temples—nebular-black, touched with starlight.
Resonance shimmered on her fingers like falling snow. Her robe, a pale gradient of lavender and sky, moved with a whispering grace, stars stitched along its hem.
Fu nearly dropped his chopsticks. "Is that… an Echo?"
Lian nodded, then leaned in and tucked a strand of hair behind her horn with a parental care.
"Yes," he said simply. "As you can see... she's a bit special."
Fu shot him a look. "Lad, 'a bit' is an understatement," he muttered, eyes drifting to the shifting crowd. Around them, diners had begun to turn, drawn like moths to the quiet glow that clung to the girl.
Murmurs fluttered like moths:
"How cute…"
"Is that a fairy?"
"I want to hug her…"
The girl—Hanya—stood still, hands curled behind her back, blinking at the attention. She said nothing, but something gentle radiated from her. Resonance pulsed outward, slow and serene, like a lullaby pressed to skin.
Fu leaned closer, "She doesn't look aggressive," he noted softly. "In fact, I'd say she's... peaceful."
"She is," Lian replied—and then, with a small smile, added, "Because she's not fighting."
Fu's gaze lingered on the childlike Echo, and something softened in his old eyes. Curious, he asked, "Say, lad… I know I might be prying, but... Are you from Rinascita?"
Lian didn't answer at once. Instead, he placed a piece of pork belly onto a small plate and offered it to Hanya.
Hanya accepted the offering with both hands, her voice a soft gasp of delight: "Waah."
"I first greeted the world there," he said at last.
His voice was steady, but the words fell like frost. Something in them made Fu quiet—not out of suspicion, but out of recognition. He had heard enough in his years to notice what went unsaid.
There was a trace of grief in that silence. Or maybe disdain. Or both.
Fu didn't press further, catching the hesitation in Lian's voice. Instead, he let the silence settle. Then, with a quiet exhale, he smiled.
"Well then," he said. "Let's eat."
And for a while, beneath paper lanterns and drifting snow light, an old man, a young man, and a childlike Echo shared a simple meal in a quiet corner of Hongzhen.
It was a modest meal for three—but somehow, it satisfied their appetite. Fu, who would have eaten equivalent to lion's share, found himself thinking: 'Perhaps it isn't volume that fills a man, but the company, and the feeling of shared bites.'
He gazed toward the fading sun. "I reckon the Liondance Troupe's performance must be happening right about now."
"Liondance Troupe?" Lian echoed, eyebrows raised.
Fu nodded. "Yeah, probably in Jinzhou as we speak."
Lian blinked. "Wait! Wha—Really?"
Fu nodded, and Lian let out a soft sigh. "Haah... maybe I should've stayed a bit longer."
Fu looked at him, surprised. "Wait, you were in Jinzhou?"
Lian nodded, recalling that day's errands. Then, a thought struck him. "Do you know Lingyang?"
Fu's eyes brightened. "You mean that boy from the Liondance Troupe?"
"Yeah," Lian slapped his forehead. 'So he was advertising for today's show that day.' He shook his head in mild frustration. "If I'd known, I might've stuck around."
He had only caught Lingyang's name and fleeting presence before rushing off. The missed chance left a faint ache.
"Well," Lian sighed again, eyes falling on Hanya, sprawled and bloated in sleep on the table. He gently poked her side, rousing her from her nap.
Hanya stirred, puffing her cheeks like a pufferfish, which earned her a chuckle from Lian. Fu chuckled softly at the other side.
"I suppose..." Lian murmured. "I did miss something interesting."
"But, I wonder…" Lian's voice dropped to a low murmur, tinged with a tender remembrance. "... if you're watching the performance, Rover."
***
The Liondance Troupe had just concluded a phenomenal performance in Jinzhou's open theater, the final echoes of drums still humming in the air.
As the crowd began to disperse and the troupe members started packing up, a quiet conversation unfolded backstage—between the Dragon Troupe's young star and Jinzhou's esteemed guest.
"Thank you, Rover!" A small, athletic leonine boy with fluffy ponytailed hair and feline ears extended his hand for a fist bump. His dragon dancer's outfit jingled softly with colorful tassels and bells.
Rover smiled, returning the fist bump. "You did great out there."
Lingyang rubbed his nose bashfully, a proud grin tugging at his lips. "Hehe."
Suddenly, a sharp voice called from nearby. "Lingyang! Come here!"
He glanced over his shoulder. "Coming!"
Turning back to Rover, Lingyang added, "I have to get the props ready for the next show."
"Come watch me again next time! Food's on me." He grinned, thumb pointed toward himself.
"Ah! almost forgot," Lingyang's eyes lit up with sudden thought.
He reached for his terminal and pulled up a pair of small bells—the same ones he'd worn during his dance. "Please keep these," he said, pressing them into Rover's hands. "They'll bring you good luck. Fare thee well, blessings swell!"
With a final smile, Lingyang turned and returned to his troupe. Rover waved goodbye, but as he turned away, the calm on his face shifted into something sharper—eyes fixed on the City Hall looming ahead.
He recalled the puzzle—the sundial he'd solved with Chixia and Yangyang—which had revealed not just where, but when Jinshi wanted him to be.
Three days had passed. The sundial had pointed to the meeting place and time, yet so many questions still lingered. And at the heart of it all stood the Grand Library.
According to Yangyang, the Grand Libraries in Huanglong were famed for their vast, guarded databases—vaults of knowledge whose exact locations were secret but believed to hold answers to any question.
It seemed the perfect place. Rover was searching for answers, and Yangyang's description made it clear: the Grand Library was the next, perhaps the final step.
Using grapples as Ma Xiaofang had demonstrated, Rover swiftly made his way there. Today was the third day—the time set for the meeting.
Upon entering City Hall, Rover's eyes caught a tall vase slightly askew in the reception. Trusting his instincts, he adjusted its position. A low, grumbling voice echoed, and before him, a hidden passage slid open.
He glanced around; the reception was empty. 'Hmm, he thought, 'was this all orchestrated?'
Suddenly, Lian's words flashed in his mind: "Do not rely too much on what you see."
Rover's expression darkened. "A hidden passage… as I expected." His eyes narrowed as he stepped through the doorway. "This must lead to the Database."
As he walked forward, Rover came upon a door and stepped inside. Before him stretched a straight pathway, ending in a vast circular platform at the center.
Around it, the rest of the chamber lay submerged beneath water, which poured steadily from the mouths of golden dragon sculptures.
He glanced around thoughtfully. 'Part of this building is underwater... There must be a hidden path beneath the surface.'
Rover considered the challenge. 'It seems I have a puzzle to solve. Guess I will check on the mechanism in the middle first.'
Approaching the device labeled "Symphodai," he read the worn inscription:
"Gather five tones to align in tune. The bells shall guide your path."
"Find keynotes to determine tone. The archive shall be unmasked."
The time had come for Rover's arduous task: retrieving the scattered notes as the water level gradually receded.
Though the puzzle itself was straightforward enough, occasional guardians—manifested by the Sonorous Sphere's power—rose to challenge him. Yet Rover dispatched them with ease, almost too easily.
A flicker of suspicion crossed his mind. 'The security guarding a database this grand... it feels lacking. Or perhaps… it's the Magistrate's doing.'
He would have moved on, but something deeper tugged at his instincts. He gazed at the steadily lowering water, each note he delivered to the Symphodai bringing the path closer to reveal itself.
His eyes caught the golden statues of Jué—the Loong dragon—standing sentinel. Though Jué's origins were debated, legends told of Loongs evolving from carp fish.
Now, no one would release fish into a sacred archive, yet Rover couldn't help but wondered—was he the fish? Or merely bait?
He was being fed just enough to navigate, but never enough to be truly lured—except for the faction's hold on the knowledge regarding his past.
'Maybe I should have hired her again,' he thought, missing Lian's company. Though a stranger, her presence had been a quiet reassurance—as if under her watchful eye, no harm could touch him.
Still, Rover pressed onward. The water had drained fully now. After one final interaction with the Symphodai, a door crowned by another Jué statue slid open.
"Now, the Database should be within reach," he said, stepping inside.
The chamber was empty. Silence hung heavy, but Rover's senses were alerted—too alert. The stillness confirmed his fears: he was bait.
But for whom? That question lingered. Or perhaps he already knew, and was simply acting.
His thoughts flickered to Lian once more, and memories of their encounters. The meeting with Fractsidus surfaced, along with Scar's final ominous words: "We'll meet again… in the not-too-distant future."
Uncertain, Rover hesitated. Then, steadying himself with a firm hand on his own shoulder—just as Lian had done—her words echoed in his mind: "Seek out."
"Phew" Exhaling, he squared his shoulders, a measure of his worry beginning to ease, carried away by the memories of Lian's calm presence.
Turning, he called into the shadows, "Scar. Show yourself."
Silence stretched. Then, a manic laugh shattered it.
"Hahahahaha!"
Scar emerged from the doorway Rover had just entered.
"I must thank you for leading me here, Rover." The madman began.
He surveyed the chamber with relish. "What a magnificent place to set foot in. Extensive. Exhaustive." His breath hitched with dark desire. "Oh... How I want to carve the place inside-out... And blow it all to shreds!"
With a flick, he summoned a black card, flicking it so the edge hovered inches from Rover's neck.
"But... It seems you anticipated my entrance." Scar tilted his head, a mocking, yet curious smile curling. "I wonder… how?"
To be continued...
***
A/N: Hey readers! How are you finding this pacing—do you prefer it a bit faster or slower for the main story quest of WUWA? Also, when it comes to fight scenes, how thematic do you want them?
Should they be detailed and intense like Changli and Kyorin's fist duel, or more straightforward? I'd love to hear your thoughts!
Also, do you think the romance buildup feels natural and satisfying, or does it come across as too abrupt?
Since Lian has already helped Rover, I was aiming to develop their relationship gradually—building on that trust and the memories of shared support.