Chapter 248

Chapter 248: Snow and Wind Cross the Boundary

The bonfire party went on late—so late Yu Sheng honestly felt that if the little kids didn’t have limits, Little Red Riding Hood and her brothers and sisters could’ve kept it going for three days and three nights without rest.

After all, the night curtain Brother Yu Sheng had pulled into place by hand could last as long as he wanted.

But joy was still finite. Eventually, even this carnival had to end.

The exhausted little kids were carried back to their rooms one by one. Some fell asleep right where they stood—on the roadside, in corners by walls, even on the grass—and were discovered and tucked into bed by the night watchmen King had summoned, who somehow managed to pull them out of every nook and cranny.

The half-grown kids—thirteen, fourteen—tried to stay up to help the lords clean up, but Teacher Su and the other adults chased them back with the same line: not sleeping at night affects growth.

Princess Rapunzel still looked unsatisfied even after setting off all those fireworks. She ran over to Yu Sheng and Little Red Riding Hood and tried to workshop excuses for the next excuse—some reason they could use to throw another event so she could indulge again.

Unfortunately for her, the sheer size of her explosives stockpile had put Little Red Riding Hood on high alert. Little Red Riding Hood interrogated her relentlessly: where did you get that many fireworks, and where were you hiding them before today?

Princess Rapunzel did not provide answers.

Bai Li Qing left early, before the gathering ended. Not because she couldn’t handle the atmosphere, and not because of the awkward silence.

Her position was simply too special. Every day, every hour—every minute—had to be planned. Being able to spend even two hours doing nothing but watching fireworks and eating barbecue with a bunch of kids was already an absurd luxury in her schedule.

After the crowd dispersed, Squirrel and Hunter returned to the Black Forest.

Yu Sheng had wanted them to stay in the little town. Everyone here would’ve been happy to welcome them as new neighbors. But Squirrel and Hunter insisted on going back.

They were used to life in the Black Forest.

Squirrel said she needed the smell of soil mixed with fallen leaves to fall asleep. She needed to go out every day and search for acorns to feel grounded. She liked listening to wind through leaves now, and watching sunlight filter down through the canopy into dappled shadow and light. Without those things, she said, she would feel anxious.

Hunter’s bond with the Black Forest ran even deeper. He wanted to go back and properly take care of the room deep in the forest—the room hung full of red cloaks.

He and Squirrel lived in that little house now. They planned to renovate it properly, so that in the future it could serve as a rest station when kids came exploring in the forest. As for those red cloaks, they would pack them up and send them to the little town, to be placed in the memorial hall of the newly built Orphanage.

Still, they promised they would visit often—like friends who moved but didn’t move far, still showing up at your door every weekend.

Yu Sheng thought it was perfect.

As long as they truly liked living that way, then it was good. There was no need to force everything that time had changed back into the exact shape it once held in memory. Memories changed with time, after all, and now… now had things worth cherishing too.

The Valley grew quiet.

The Great Bonfire in the center of the Plaza was almost burned out, leaving only a lingering red glow in the ashes, flickering slowly in the breeze.

Foxy squatted beside the embers, threading chunks of meat onto a stick she’d found somewhere, carefully roasting them with the last leftover heat.

Yu Sheng lay down on the grass at the edge of the Plaza, using the slope to find a comfortable position, and looked up at the “night” above.

He heard the rustle of a skirt brushing through the grass.

Three Little Dolls crept over like thieves. They looked like they were planning something terrible, but the moment they saw Yu Sheng’s eyes were open, all three flashed the same awkward grin and neatly lay down in a row on his left.

The Irene with the drawing frame on her back lay facedown—because if she lay on her back, she couldn’t get up.

“Ah,” Irene muttered into the grass, “finally, clear tranquility. Those little kids…”

“But you looked like you were having a great time,” Yu Sheng said, glancing sideways. “Two kids stopped chasing you and you still split off a body just to run over and smack them twice.”

“Tch!” Irene clicked her tongue, then wriggled closer to Yu Sheng’s arm and stared up at the cloud ceiling.

After a while, Little Doll sighed. “It’s so nice when night is quiet. Too bad there aren’t any stars tonight.”

“Obviously,” Yu Sheng said, giving her a look. “I made this night by hand. If you want stars, I’d have to poke holes in the clouds by hand.”

“…Then poke them. I want stars.”

“Too lazy.”

“Tch!”

Yu Sheng stopped paying attention to the doll. He only waved at Foxy and called, “Lend me a tail.”

He borrowed a fluffy, warm tail from the fox girl, hugged it against his chest, and fell asleep heavily on the grass.

He slept soundly.

He didn’t know how long he drifted—hours, at least—before something tugged at him from inside the dream.

Wind.

Howling wind, like icy air blowing through a cave. Snow and wind seemed to pour into a room, tapping insistently at the edge of his perception.

Cold spread toward him.

Yu Sheng snapped his eyes open.

The cold at the edge of his awareness weakened sharply. Warmth returned to his body. He was still lying on the grass in the Valley. In the distance, the bonfire pile was completely out. The Plaza and the little town were silent, with nothing visibly wrong.

The three Irenes had fallen asleep at some point, sprawled across the grass nearby.

Beside Yu Sheng was a pile of warm, white tails. Foxy had curled into a ball of them, only half her body showing. Her head rested against his arm, and her ears twitched lightly in the breeze.

Yu Sheng frowned.

He was awake now, and his mind could separate illusion from reality—but that strange feeling hadn’t faded. It still tapped at the edge of his perception, stubborn and cold.

Carefully, he pushed Foxy’s tails aside and sat up, trying to pinpoint where the sensation came from.

Even though he moved gently, Foxy woke instantly. Her eyes snapped open like a wary beast’s, light flashing through her gold-and-red pupils. But when she saw Yu Sheng, the tension melted away. She shifted lazily in the tail pile and stretched.

“Benefactor,” she murmured, “you’re not sleeping?”

“Did you hear anything?” Yu Sheng asked softly. “Wind—like wind blowing through a cave. Woo… woo…”

Foxy froze mid-stretch. Her gaze sharpened.

She got up and listened with a frown. Then, as casually as if it were the most normal thing in the world, she took off both ears from the top of her head, held them up high, and rotated them like radar dishes while she scanned the area.

Only then did she shake her head. “Didn’t hear anything.”

Yu Sheng’s frown deepened.

Then, in the next second, something clicked in his mind.

“…It’s at home!”

He yanked open a Door. As he stepped through, he threw a line over his shoulder to Foxy. “Wake Irene up. I’m going home to check. There’s something in the room at the end of the second floor!”

He didn’t wait for her answer.

He was gone.

No. 66 Wu Tong Road was silent. Only the stairwell and corridor lights were on—he must have forgotten to turn them off before he left. Yu Sheng went up to the second floor, checked the rest of the house quickly, then headed straight for the room at the end of the hallway.

The thin wooden door looked ordinary.

But now it felt like it was sealing off another world.

He could hear the faint howling through the door panel, and a trace of cold seeped in through the gap at the bottom.

Yu Sheng gripped the knob, took a breath, steadied himself, and shoved the door open.

A blast of icy wind hit his face—along with a spray of snowflakes caught in the current.

Yu Sheng stared in shock.

The room was still a room. The ceiling, walls, and floor were all there.

And yet wind swirled inside as if the space had become the mouth of a cave. Fine snowflakes appeared out of nowhere on the surface of the opposite wall, spun through the air, and piled in the corners. The snow looked half-real, half-illusory, and it had already crept up to cover part of the wall.

Yu Sheng shivered on instinct. Then he quickly shut the door, went back to his room to throw on a down jacket, and returned.

He stepped into the snow-filled room again. The wind still howled. Snow still formed out of nowhere and spiraled through the air.

His gaze fixed on the mirror set into the middle of the wall.

The mirror reflected his figure—layered with another scene, faint but unmistakable.

A snow-filled cave.

This room at the end of the hallway was overlapping again with a cave from somewhere unknown. The cave entrance hovered only a few meters away on the mirror’s other side. A blizzard screamed outside that cave, and snow was blowing in through the entrance—piling up inside No. 66 Wu Tong Road.

Yu Sheng tightened his jacket and walked past the mirror. His footsteps squeaked and crunched through snow.

This time, he didn’t rashly touch the mirror.

Instead, he went to the corner and focused on something fluttering there.

A torn strip of cloth.

He reached out, caught the ragged fabric, and gave it a light tug—pulling it into this side of the world.