"Ok, good." Li Hua took several deep breaths, her tiny hands clenching and un-clenching as she processed the magnitude of what she'd just learned. The irony wasn't lost on her—she'd spent years meticulously gathering resources, planning for every conceivable scenario, yet nothing in her previous life had prepared her for having unlimited power and control over time drop into her lap like a live grenade with the pin pulled.
"Little Firefly, what about your memories?" Li Hua asked, her voice softening as she recalled their first conversation.
The spirit's glow dimmed slightly, its usual vibrant pulse becoming more subdued. "I... I still can't remember, Master. The memories of how I came to your world remain shrouded in mist." His light flickered with a hint of frustration, like a candle struggling against the wind. "I know I'm from a world similar to this one, I remember the basic principles of cultivation and the fundamental laws of the heavens, but everything else... it's as if someone deliberately sealed those memories away."
Li Hua nodded thoughtfully. Even with all these newfound powers and upgrades to their shared space, this one mystery remained unsolved.
"Perhaps," she mused, watching the spirit bob gently in the air before her, "these memories too will return in time, just as these new abilities have emerged."
"I hope so too, master." Little Firefly drifted closer to Li Hua, his ethereal form casting a soft, comforting glow on her face. "Each day brings new discoveries. Maybe understanding who I was will help us understand why we were brought together." He paused, his light pulsing with a mix of uncertainty and determination. "Though I must admit, even without my past memories, serving as your companion feels... right, somehow. As if this was always meant to be."
A soft smile tugged at Li Hua's lips as she rose to her feet, the kind of genuine expression that in her previous life had been reserved solely for this peculiar spirit who had become her most trusted companion. She reached over to pat Little Firefly gently, the familiar warmth spreading through her fingertips.
The sensation reminded her of their first meeting, when everything in her life had changed in an instant. She could still see it clearly—that moment in the alley, when reality had twisted and folded around her, drawing her into this impossible space. Little Firefly's first words echoed in her memory: "Welcome to your space, Master." Such a simple greeting, yet it had marked the beginning of something profound.
She remembered how disoriented she'd felt then, torn between disbelief and a strange sense of recognition. Here was a place that should have been impossible—a pocket dimension that defied the laws of physics she knew—yet something deep within her soul had whispered, Yes, this is yours. This has always been yours. The space had seemed both foreign and intimately familiar, like a childhood home revisited in dreams, every corner holding both mystery and memory.
"Thank you, Little Firefly. For everything." She whispered, letting her hand linger for a moment longer on his ethereal form.
"Of course, Master." Little Firefly bobbed gently in the air, his ethereal form pulsing with a warm, golden light that seemed to mirror his contentment.
"I'll head out now."
With practiced ease, Li Hua closed her eyes and the familiar gravitational pull tugged at her consciousness, drawing her back through the layers to reality.
In a moment, she found herself once again nestled between her brothers' sleeping forms, their steady breathing a gentle reminder of the new life she had to protect.
"Little Firefly, how much time passed while I was in the space?" Li Hua asked in her mind.
"Master, only three breaths in the outside world," came the spirit's gentle reply, tinged with that familiar mix of pride and mischief. "Though you spent nearly three hours in the space."
Li Hua felt that familiar flutter of amazement in her chest—the thought that she could steal extra hours from the day still left her slightly breathless.
A whisper of movement, so faint it might have been mistaken for settling wood, drifted from her parents' room. Li Hua's ears caught the sound instantly—trained reflexes from her past life responding before conscious thought could form. In the thick silence of the night, even the smallest disturbance rang as clear as a temple bell to her heightened senses.
Gently extracting herself from between her brothers, Li Hua moved with the careful precision of her past life—though her four-year-old body had other ideas. Her mind knew exactly how to move, each step mapped out with an assassin's expertise, but her small limbs felt frustratingly short and uncoordinated. She nearly stumbled twice, catching herself with tiny hands that didn't quite reach where she expected them to.
Even on reed mats, stealth required perfect control, each step precisely placed to avoid the telltale crackle of dried grass. Perfect control was maddeningly difficult when your center of gravity had shifted so dramatically. Still, years of training prevailed, if awkwardly. She managed to cross the room quietly, distributing her weight with the grace of a master dancer forced to perform in shoes three sizes too small, the woven reeds barely whispering beneath her feet.
At the door, she pressed her ear against the cool wood, having to rise slightly on her tiptoes to reach the optimal listening position. Her breath slowed to near-stillness as she focused her enhanced senses.
"Wife, what did Grand Master Yu say?" Her father's voice came through muffled but clear enough to make out the words.
"He said the next full moon will be in a month's time." Her mother whispered, concern threading through her words like silk through a needle.
"Mmm, that's fine. The array formation is still very stable," her father murmured. "It'll be a full decade at the next full moon. We'll have one more decade before the protective array diminishes."
"Is it enough time?" Her mother asked, her voice trembling slightly as if tears were threatening to spill.
"It's enough." Her father's voice carried the weight of mountains. "We must intensify the children's training. I'll reduce my time in the fields to half days." He paused, and Li Hua heard the subtle sound of jade clicking against jade. "This piece of the crown... it should bring at least forty-five silver taels. Enough for better food and your time at home to oversee their training." His voice softened, betraying a father's concern beneath the warrior's resolve.
"Create a schedule that won't break them—they're still so young. After I consult with Grand Master Yu, we'll begin combat training. Form, technique, endurance—everything they'll need to survive."
"When the barrier falls..." Her mother began.
"We must be ready." Her father's voice hardened like steel being quenched. "Twenty years of peace bought with that array formation, but when it breaks..." He fell silent, and Li Hua could almost see him shaking his head in the darkness. "Even I don't know what storms await us."
The silence stretched between them like a drawn bow until her mother spoke again, her voice barely a whisper. "I... I have marrow cleansing powder."
"What?" Surprise cracked through her father's usual composure. "Where did you—"
"In my jade pendant." Her mother's voice gained strength. "Among other things. I've kept them hidden, even from you. For safety—yours as much as ours."
A long breath escaped her father, like mountain winds through ancient pines. "You were wise to keep such secrets." His voice gentled. "The powder... it will help. Better to cleanse their meridians now, while they're young. The pain will be less, though..." He trailed off, unable to finish the thought of his children's suffering.
"And Hua'er?" Her mother's question trembled in the air. "She's so small, so delicate..."
"Especially Hua'er." Her father's response came swift and certain. "Heaven help me, but especially her. The dragons within them stir, but her core it... it burns the brightest."
"Mmm, I'll prepare the baths first thing in the morning." Her mother's voice wavered before steadying itself. The soft chiming of her jade pendant could be heard as she moved. "I'll add spirit-calming herbs to help with the pain. My master taught me which ones work best for young meridians." There was a pause, followed by a deep, trembling breath that gradually became more even, as if the familiar talk of preparations had helped calm her nerves.
"Don't worry, my love. It will be fine. Our children are intelligent and strong." His voice softened with pride. "Have you seen how quickly Wei'er grasps his lessons? How Hao'er's determination never wavers? And our little Hua'er..." He paused, letting out a quiet chuckle.
"That child notices things that even I miss. Sometimes, when she looks at me, I feel as if I'm being measured by eyes far older than her years."
The sound of footsteps suggested he had moved closer to his wife. "They carry our blood—yours and mine. The blood of those who defied heaven itself to be together. Whatever storms are coming, we'll weather them as we always have: as a family."
A moment of silence followed, broken only by the soft sound of steady breathing and the distant chirp of night crickets. "Now, rest. Tomorrow will test us all, but for tonight, let's just be grateful for this peace we've carved out for ourselves."
Li Hua slowly pulled away from the door, her mind racing with all she'd learned. The protective array, the time line, her parents' plan—each revelation settled like heavy stones in her thoughts.
With the same clumsy precision she'd used to approach, Li Hua made her way back through the darkness. Her tiny feet found their path across the woven reed mats, each careful step avoiding the telltale rustle of dried grass, until she reached the bed, where she silently slipped back between her sleeping brothers. Their steady breathing remained unchanged, unaware of the weight of secrets their sister now carried.
Li Hua closed her eyes, letting her brothers' warmth envelope her from both sides.
Despite her racing thoughts about cultivation and the marrow cleansing bath, her small body's need for sleep began to take over.
The last thing she remembered before drifting off was the gentle sound of her brothers' breathing mixing with the night crickets' song, a lullaby that promised, at least for now, she was exactly where she need.