That night, Xuan Xi lay on her new bed.
Staring at the starry sky outside the window, she suddenly turned over.
She had thought that with Sige’s departure today, she would have trouble falling asleep, but her eyelids soon began to droop.
Just before her consciousness faded, a thought suddenly struck her— ‘school starts tomorrow, doesn’t it?’
Tears welled up without warning, streaming down and soaking her pillow.
She didn’t know why she was crying.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to return to the Academy.
She wanted to see Sige, to see Elsa, Reggie, and Veralis, to return to that dormitory she’d lived in for half a year, to go back to that bed that carried Sige’s scent.
But the tears just wouldn’t stop.
It was as if something was lodged in her chest, suffocating and painful, and the only way to let it out was drop by drop.
She reached under her pillow and pulled out the Communication Stone Sige had given her.
The screen lit up in the darkness.
She thought for a long time, typed a few words, deleted them, and finally sent just two: “Good night.”
There was no reply.
That was only natural—it was already late, time for sleep.
She tucked the Communication Stone back under her pillow, turned to face the wall, and closed her eyes.
Soon, she drifted into a dream.
Outside, the Blacksmith Shop’s courtyard was unlit.
Old Hellas had brought out a chair and sat beneath the Old Tree.
He tilted his head back, gazing at the dense cluster of stars in the sky, packed together like sparks flying from a forge fire, frozen in the heavens before they had a chance to cool.
In his youth, he’d injured his eyes from blacksmithing, leaving his vision somewhat blurry—but things like stars, he could still see clearly.
He remembered that ever since Xuan Xi was a baby, he’d been in the habit of sitting here watching the stars.
Back then, he’d just carried this child found in the wilderness into the Blacksmith Shop, placing her in a cradle he’d welded together from scrap iron, lined with an old padded jacket for cushioning to give Xuan Xi a comfortable environment.
He’d never had children of his own, so of course he didn’t know how to soothe one.
When Xuan Xi cried in the middle of the night, he had no idea what to do, so he’d just hold her and sit in the courtyard, pointing at the shiny things in the sky and saying, “Look, those are stars.”
When Xuan Xi saw the stars, she stopped crying at once.
Those amber eyes opened wide as she gazed at the sky, utterly entranced, as if she were someone who came from the stars themselves.
Later, the child grew older.
She learned to walk, then to run.
When she got a bit bigger still, she left him to go to the Academy alone.
This was the first time Xuan Xi had been this far from him.
After she left his side, he would occasionally sit beneath this Old Tree, just like before, looking at the stars in the sky.
But the stars hadn’t changed—he was only growing older.
The forge fire still burned inside the shop, casting an orange-red glow.
By all rights, he should go put it out, but he didn’t want to move.
Because tomorrow, the child would leave again—returning to a place with friends, with teachers, with people she cared about.
He didn’t want to hold her back, and he wouldn’t.
He just sat here, watching the stars, just like when Xuan Xi was little.
He didn’t get up until dawn was about to break, then carried his chair back into the shop.
Passing by Xuan Xi’s room, he deliberately softened his steps, making no sound.
He stood outside the door and listened for a moment.
Inside was quiet, only the even rhythm of breathing.
Xuan Xi hadn’t woken up yet.
He turned and went into the kitchen, starting a fire to make Xuan Xi one last breakfast.
It wasn’t until morning light streamed through the window that Xuan Xi opened her eyes.
She lingered in bed a little longer.
From downstairs came the sound of a spatula scraping against a pan, mixed with the bubbling of milk.
She sat up, folded the blanket, and packed up all her luggage.
She made a point of pulling that Handkerchief from under her pillow and tucking it close to her body, together with her Jade Pendant.
She carried her suitcase down the stairs.
This staircase left a deep impression on her, because when she was little, she’d been unsteady on her feet and tumbled all the way down.
Hellas had rushed out of the shop and scooped her up, holding her in his arms, his hands trembling.
And she, perhaps sensing Hellas’s worry, had for the first time ever not cried.
That afternoon, he didn’t do any smithing.
He just sat in the courtyard holding her, for the entire afternoon.
Breakfast was already laid out on the table.
Toasted bread, fried eggs, bacon, butter.
The toast was done just right, and the bacon was fried crispy.
Hellas stood by the stove, his apron stained with grease.
He didn’t urge Xuan Xi, just picked up a glass of milk and took a sip, nudging the toast basket toward her.
“Eat up. When you’re done, I’ll take you to school.”
He sat down across from her and ate his breakfast with big mouthfuls.
After Xuan Xi finished eating, Hellas collected the dishes.
He walked slowly to the sink, turned on the tap, and started washing.
“Leave the dishes for me to wash,” Xuan Xi said from behind him.
He didn’t turn around, washing the bowls without looking back.
“You go on. Don’t keep others waiting. The school has people you want to see, doesn’t it?”
He shook the bowls dry, set them on the drying rack, then turned around to face her.
Those eyes, baked by the forge fire for a lifetime, were now shot through with red from staying up all night.
Whether it was Xuan Xi’s imagination or not, she felt that Hellas’s eye bags were heavier than before Winter Break.
Wrinkles stretched from the corners of his eyes down to his jaw—marks left by time.
Xuan Xi walked up and hugged him.
Her face buried in his chest, she caught the smell of rust and charcoal that had followed Hellas his whole life—exactly the same as that winter night sixteen years ago when he’d held her in his arms.
His body stiffened, then slowly relaxed.
Those large hands, covered in calluses, lifted and settled on her back, patting gently a few times.
“Go on, Xi Xi.” His voice was a little thick.
Xuan Xi let go and nodded, trying hard not to let her tears spill.
She picked up her suitcase and walked straight out of the Blacksmith Shop.
“Dad, I’m leaving.”
She didn’t look back, afraid that if she did, she would never be able to leave.
She crossed the main street and walked slowly to the Teleportation Array at the town’s northern edge.
Two stone pillars stood on either side, their surfaces carved with runes that glowed with a faint blue light.
Standing before the Teleportation Gate, she finally turned around for one last look.
The town’s morning was very quiet.
The morning mist was too thick to make out whether Hellas was still standing at the doorway; all she could see was a hazy gray expanse.
She turned back and stepped into the Teleportation Gate.
A pale blue light rose from her feet, enveloping her body—warm and gentle, like being held in Hellas’s arms when she was little.
The light swallowed her whole, and the runes on the stone pillars went dark one by one.
From the direction of the Blacksmith Shop came the sound of a hammer striking—extremely faint, yet carrying an immense distance.
One strike after another, as if speaking of something.
When the light of the Teleportation Gate faded, Xuan Xi was already standing on the stone-paved road at the Academy gates.
The Academy was no different from before Winter Break.
If she had to say what had changed, the air smelled better—richer with the scent of earth and fresh grass.
She carried her suitcase through the main gate, the sound of her shoes against the stone slabs echoing with unusual clarity in this empty morning.