This was a pure white world.
Mountains and rivers that no longer existed, civilizations and lives that had never appeared—the ground, the sky, and even time and space were all nonexistent.
Pure white. White in the truest sense.
White represented meaninglessness, but the black derived from that reasoning lost its meaning as well. Thus, white was endowed with the significance of existence.
Infinite humanities could exist here, infinite colors, infinite time and space. Yet black and white, those two extremes, seemed to share no essential difference.
Everything remained serene and nihility.
It seemed the Creation God of this world had sensed the emptiness. Colors gradually bloomed in the sky: azure blue gathering fluffy white clouds. One could only dream of tasting those clouds, for reaching out to touch them felt impossibly distant. The sun hung high overhead, bestowing precious warm hues upon the pure white world.
Then, as if answering someone’s longing, mountains and rivers took shape.
Pure mountains and rivers: spring water tumbled over riverbeds of smooth pebbles and rugged rocks, charging ahead like untamed wild horses. It cascaded down undulating peaks, kicking up waves and forming long, meandering streams.
Rainbows arched overhead. The pure, crystalline springs and the mist drifting through the valleys were enough to soothe any soul.
If a painter stumbled into this place just then, he could capture it from any angle—photograph it, sketch it—and it would become a masterpiece of landscape art. The beauty was that profound.
An ideal canvas, one that could only exist in dreams.
But something still seemed to be missing.
That’s right…
On the damp riverbank scoured by mountain springs, amid crevices in the stones, beneath the sunlight’s gentle kiss, a few green buds slowly pierced the soil. Sturdy leaves unfurled as they lifted their heads, gazing worshipfully at the sun above.
The river rushed onward, oblivious to the thriving greenery—as if those verdant specks were mere accidental dabs from the watercolor artist’s brush, too subtle to notice.
That’s right. I was a blade of grass, too.
A timid little blade of grass, not even daring to sway as it cautiously poked its head above the earth…
“Where is this place?”
The voice of a delicate, petite girl echoed through the valley.
If anyone had truly set foot in this untouched wilderness, they would have instantly recognized her: the silver-haired young woman seated on the grassy lawn.
“Strange…”
She extended her hand, gazing at her porcelain skin—so fair and fragile it seemed it might snap with a mere touch. A quiet complaint stirred in the depths of her heart.
Since she couldn’t remember anything else, perhaps she should try recalling her own name?
…That was the gentle nudge from her inner voice.
She lowered her head. Her simple dress suited her slender frame perfectly. She could stretch out her long tail with ease, toying with the nearby pebbles. Lying back on the lawn and gazing skyward held no fear of her dragon horns snagging on anything. She could simply listen to the river lapping at the shore, letting peace wash over her.
Every so often, a few cool droplets splashed onto her cheeks—a rare delight amid the monotony, one she could even tally like playful attacks from the water itself.
She rolled over and crawled to the river’s edge. A purple petal drifted down onto her head.
Then, as it landed on the clear, rippling spring, her reflection caught her eye—those diamond-shaped pupils—and the name slipped from her lips:
“Xuefei.”
Excellent. She’d remembered her name.
Remembering a name long forgotten felt like unearthing buried treasure, a burst of pure joy. For Little Evil Dragon, reclaiming something that was rightfully hers brought far greater delight than any shiny new hoard.
So Xuefei sat contentedly on the ground, her legs peeking from beneath her skirt and crossing neatly. She draped her dragon tail across her lap, as docile as a kitten.
“Time for a nap~”
That was her thought.
She’d wriggled her body quite diligently today—another triumph of ironclad self-discipline. Lucky moments like this called for an end; after all, balance between work and rest was the key to the perfect dragon life~
Xuefei closed her eyes and curled onto her side, hugging her tail close for comfort.
But a jarring noise buzzed around her ears like persistent mosquitoes, grating on her nerves.
Zzzzt—zzzzt—zzzzt—!
“Huh?!”
“So annoying! Miss Waterfall, could you please keep it down?”
She cracked her eyes open and glared at the thundering cascade, baring her teeth in fierce irritation.
Utterly outrageous.
Why did waterfalls even exist in this world?! Disturbing my sleep like that—they absolutely deserved the death penalty! No, from now on, every single “waterfall” would face the ultimate execution. None would escape this dragon’s clutches!
“So, there you are.”
Just as negative emotions fully fermented in Xuefei’s mind and erupted in blazing flames, a voice forced her to turn her head.
Another silver-haired girl gazed back at her, leaving Xuefei equally entranced.
“Who are you?” Xuefei touched her lips with a finger, brimming with curiosity.
Unexpectedly, the other girl abruptly reached out a hand. Xuefei was shocked to find herself unstartled—not plunging headfirst into the river in fright.
Her voice was soft and alluring, like wandering through a fragrant flowerbed, on the verge of losing oneself amid pollen and sweet nectar—a mere butterfly drawn inexorably to the blooms.
“I’m the Evil Dragon. Just like you.”
“Liar! I’m little grass. You’re the Evil Dragon!”
Xuefei seemed dissatisfied with the girl’s use of the term “Evil Dragon.”
“It looks like you always see yourself as something ordinary. In that case, let me offer simple proof that you’re not little grass.”
“Hmph…”
Xuefei’s gaze sharpened, as if to say, Prove it, then.
Smiling, the Evil Dragon explained methodically, “Grass is green. So tell me, Xuefei—what color are you?”
“I…”
Strange. She didn’t seem to be that color at all. But no matter what, Xuefei was convinced she was right. She had to refute this girl!
“Can’t there be grass my color? You haven’t seen every blade of grass out there. How do you know I’m not little grass?! I sleep for super long every day. Doesn’t that make me just like grass?”
“Is that so? Little grass can bury its head in the soil to drink water. Can you do that, Xuefei?”
“Uh…”
Xuefei’s face flushed red as she bowed her head. She glanced at the grass underfoot, then back at the Evil Dragon. Furious, she raised her little hand in protest.
“You’re cheating! This little grass doesn’t have that function!”
“So in other words, you have no way to prove you’re grass.” The Dragon Girl stroked her chin, eyeing Xuefei with keen interest as she stepped closer. Their eyes were now just an index finger’s width apart. “But I can prove you’re an Evil Dragon.”
“So close! Don’t breathe on my face…”
“We share the same eyes, wings strong enough to soar freely through the skies, and the power to shatter mountains and rivers. See?”
Xuefei peered into the girl’s pupils. They matched exactly the draconic eyes she’d seen reflected in the water’s surface—her own eyes. Subconsciously, she tucked away her restless dragon tail, as if it might be snatched away at any moment.
But the other’s “attack” had nothing to do with her tail.
Before Xuefei could recover from her shock, her lips were sealed by another petal-like softness.
“Mmph!”
