Xianzhou Luofu, Changle Tian.
A fine drizzle hung in the air like mist, laying a damp, soft-focus veil over the ancient, elegant streets.
The door to "Yichen Will Handle It" was left slightly ajar. Under the eaves, a wind chime swayed now and then in the breeze, letting out scattered, delicate notes.
Inside, Yichen—dressed in a plain, understated Daoist robe—lounged comfortably in his chair. A jade terminal rested in his hands, his fingers idly scrolling.
The screen's faint glow lit his face, tracing an absurdly perfect jawline from any angle.
Only… that perfect face was gradually turning a bit complicated as new posts refreshed on the display.
[Cold-Leg Uncle] Last time I got caught moving contraband on a starship. Bro Chen stepped in and straight-up changed my death sentence into "didn't wear a seatbelt." Then he paid me back three hundred credits.
[Fire-Spark Big Fire] Thanks, Bro Chen! Yesterday I accidentally buried someone. Bro Chen worked some magic and got it classified as "planting ginseng," and my high-temperature cultivation subsidy just hit my account!
[Anonymous Netizen] I failed my exam last time and Bro Chen directly sent me an invitation from the Genius Society. I didn't accept it though…
At that last one, Yichen's mouth twitched. His expression became… difficult to hold. He set the jade terminal down, rubbed his brow, and let out a helpless laugh as he cursed under his breath.
"Sigh… those Masked Fools who live to stir trouble, and that so-called 'god of fun.' My shop's been open for days, and they've already blown it up into this kind of nonsense."
He lifted the white porcelain teacup beside him and took a sip of warm tea, trying to smooth down the mix of amusement and exasperation.
Then his hand paused mid-sip—as if he'd sensed something. His gaze naturally drifted toward the door.
In the hazy curtain of rain, a small, lonely figure stood at the street corner, lost.
Her hair and thin clothes were soaked through. The cane in her hand tapped carefully—clumsily—on the slick stone slabs, as if she couldn't find her direction. More than once, she almost stumbled.
The faint annoyance on Yichen's face vanished, replaced by pure concern.
He didn't hesitate. Rising, he grabbed an oil-paper umbrella kept by the door and stepped into the rain.
"Hey, little one."
He reached her and held the umbrella steadily over her head.
"The rain's getting heavy. Want to come inside and warm up? I can make you something hot."
The girl looked about seven or eight. At his voice, she timidly "turned" toward where the sound came from. Her unfocused eyes carried a kind of fear—fear that came from never having been treated gently by the world.
But the cold rain stopped pelting her. And from Yichen came a clean, warm scent—like grass after sun.
Her tense little body eased. She nodded, barely.
"Th… thank you, big brother."
Her voice was small, a little choked.
Yichen smiled. Naturally, he took the hand not holding her cane and guided her into the shop's dry, welcoming light.
A moment later, he helped her over the threshold and into warmth.
The door shut softly behind them, cutting the patter of rain away until only quiet remained—quiet that made it easy to breathe.
"Sit for a bit. Watch the step."
He spoke gently, supporting her as she settled into a plush-looking guest chair.
The girl sat obediently, still gripping her cane with both hands. Her wet hair stuck to her cheeks, making her look even smaller.
Yichen went to a cabinet, took out a clean, soft towel, and returned.
He didn't touch her right away—he spoke first.
"Wet hair will make you sick. I'll dry it a little, alright?"
After a tiny hum of agreement, he carefully draped the towel over her damp hair.
He was meticulous and patient, blotting the water away instead of rubbing harshly.
The warm towel's touch—and Yichen's calm, sunlit presence—finally loosened the tension in her body.
When her hair was half-dry, Yichen placed a cup in her hands—freshly poured, warmed to just the right temperature.
"Here. Hold it and warm your hands. Careful—it's a little hot."
She accepted the cup. Her big, unfocused eyes "looked" toward Yichen as she spoke softly.
"Big brother… you're really nice. My name is Xiaoyu."
"Xiaoyu. That's a beautiful name."
Yichen sat across from her, smiling gently.
"I'm Yichen. This is my little shop."
"Yi… chen… big brother?"
Xiaoyu repeated it quietly, holding the warm cup, and fell silent.
For a moment, the shop held only stillness—and the whisper of rain outside the window.
Seeing the pale little face beneath damp hair, Yichen lowered his voice even more.
"Xiaoyu… where are your parents? Why are you out alone?"
Her narrow shoulders drew in, almost imperceptibly.
She bowed her head. Her voice became so light it nearly dissolved into the rain.
"They're… gone. A long time ago… during the Abundance War… they died."
"…."
The warmth on Yichen's face froze solid.
What did my stupid mouth just ask?!
He inhaled, forcing down the churn in his chest. When he spoke again, his voice was softer than before.
"I'm sorry, Xiaoyu. I shouldn't have brought up something painful."
He looked at her with pure sympathy.
"Little one… if you don't have anywhere to go for now, stay here. Until the rain stops, or… until you want to leave."
As if remembering something, he stood and went to rummage through a cabinet, trying to sound casual.
"By the way… do you like toys? I might have something—"
Xiaoyu shook her head lightly. Her voice was thin, but far too composed for her age.
"Thank you, Yichen big brother… you don't need to trouble yourself. I don't really… play with toys. When the rain stops, I'll leave. I won't cause you any trouble."
The words pricked Yichen's heart like a tiny needle.
So well-behaved it hurt.
He fell silent, his eyes sweeping the counter—then his gaze brightened, as if something clicked.
He moved behind the counter, bent down, and pulled out an old wooden box from the very bottom.
He blew a layer of dust from the lid, opened it, and lifted out a palm-sized mechanical puppy.
Its shell looked like a dark alloy, but every joint had been polished smooth. Its sensor eyes were set with gentle blue crystals.
With a soft click, Yichen toggled a switch beneath its belly.
The puppy's eyes lit up in a calm blue glow.
"Woof"—a simulated bark, lightly electronic but not grating.
It stood up in Yichen's palm, turned its head with lively precision, and even wagged a tail made from fine metal links.
Yichen set it carefully on the table in front of Xiaoyu. It made faint tap-tap sounds as it shifted.
"Since you're the first customer my shop has ever had," he said, "this is a little gift."
"And look—it already likes you."
Xiaoyu couldn't see, but her hearing caught the soft bark and the tiny footfalls. Her empty eyes turned toward the sound, and hesitation rose on her face.
"The first… customer? But I didn't—"
"A gift is a gift. No 'but.'"
Yichen gently cut her off, guiding her hand to touch the puppy's cool metal back.
"Go on. Try petting it. It's very well-behaved."
Her fingertips felt faint vibration from the internal mechanisms—an odd, fascinating sensation. She flinched as if startled, then cautiously reached out again, tracing its shape little by little.
The mechanical puppy seemed almost human in its responsiveness. It let out another soft "woof," and nudged its head against her fingers.
At last—a small, almost invisible smile appeared on Xiaoyu's tightly held face.
Yichen watched her carefully petting it, and his voice grew even gentler.
"It's called Bruce-1. It's from a place called the Big Dog Chew Club… and don't let the size fool you. It's reliable."
"If you go out in the future, it can stay right beside you. Like… a tiny guide dog. It can help you check the road and alert you to steps or obstacles."
He described the convenience it could bring her, hoping to lift her spirits.
But as she listened, tears gathered without warning in those unfocused eyes.
Then they fell—large, bright drops, one after another—wetting her cheeks, and pattering onto Bruce-1's cool metal shell.
Her thin shoulders trembled. Her sobs were small, restrained, and heartbreakingly wrong for someone so young.
"Hey—why are you crying?"
Yichen panicked, standing up too fast. He hurriedly wiped her tears away with his fingertips, gentle as a feather.
"It's okay, it's okay… don't cry. Did I say something wrong?"
Xiaoyu shook her head hard, choking on her words.
"No… no… It's just… it's been so, so long… since anyone… has been this kind to me…"
Yichen's heart felt seared by the heat of those tears—and softened even further.
He didn't press her. He simply stayed there, patiently wiping away tear after tear, speaking in a warm, steady voice.
"Alright. Alright… it'll get better. Bruce-1 will be with you. And… my shop will always welcome you back."