Chapter 906: Practiced a Little

Ling lifted her chin, let out a smug little hum from her nose, "My brother‑in‑law told me, she said that every time you threaten me you're just bluffing, and told me not to be afraid!"

Bachongying took a deep breath.

Then she turned to Sakura, a apologetic smile on her face, ice‑blue eyes still holding a lingering, not‑yet‑dried shy glimmer, and the curve of her mouth strained to stay properly poised.

"I'm sorry."

Her voice returned to its usual gentle tone, "When Ling mentions her, this kid gets excited. Hiying and… we are indeed together. But we haven't held any formal ceremony yet, just the two of us… taking things slowly."

As she said that, her gaze fell on the jasmine tea cup on the table, and her fingers unconsciously brushed the silver bracelet on her wrist.

The gesture was light and casual, but Sakura noticed.

It was probably not something she bought herself.

Sakura looked at Bachongying's face, which was identical to her own, a softness so tender it seemed you could wring water from the shyness, and lifted the tea cup for a sip.

The tea had cooled, the jasmine fragrance had faded considerably, and there was a faint bitterness on the palate.

She used the rim of the cup to shield her mouth, ensuring no one could see the slight twitch at her corner.

The scene was utterly surreal.

In Past World Paradise she had seen many bizarre things, but none of them combined had the impact of a woman with her own face blushing before her simply because a lover was mentioned.

She suddenly regretted having put the sketchbook into her bag.

"No need to apologize."

Sakura set the cup down, gave Bachongying a slight nod, her expression the calm, gentle "Sister Hiying" mode, "You two get along well. I can see it."

Ling had bounced back from the corner of the seat, evidently still not done talking about Kalian.

She planted both hands on the tabletop, mouth open, ready to launch a new round of gossip barrage.

But this time she didn't speak outright; instead she lowered her head and rummaged in the small satchel she carried.

Finally she pulled a phone from the inner compartment of the bag.

The phone case was transparent, holding a hand‑drawn Mystic Card inside, depicting a simple stick figure and a taller stick figure standing beside it, with "Sister and Me" scribbled crookedly underneath.

"Found it!"

Ling lit up the phone screen, flicked her finger across it a few times, then leaned forward, thrusting the phone straight into Sakura's face, the screen nearly touching her nose tip.

Her mouth simultaneously began narrating, speaking at a speed like a timed quiz competition, "Sister Hiying, look! This is my brother‑in‑law! Isn't she stunning! When I first saw her I thought she was a model or an actress or something, but sister said she's the lady of the Kasurana Family, that Kasurana! The famous one, basically super impressive! And Sister Kalian is especially kind; every time she comes to our house she brings me treats. Last time she brought a box of chocolate, and after I ate it my tooth ached for several days, that part must not be recorded!"

She puckered toward her sister's direction, then turned back and continued, "In short, Sister Kalian is super beautiful, super gentle, super cool, everything about her is super great! Sister Hiying, look, look!"

Bachongying realized the moment Ling pulled out the phone.

Her hand reached over the table to grab her sister's phone, shouting, "Ling—don't just show the photos to anyone—," the motion gentle but the intent clear.

She was fast, Sakura faster.

Sakura's right hand rose from beside the tea cup, tracing an arc in the air; her fingers precisely latched onto the phone's middle frame, the force just right to pull the phone steadily from Ling's hand without touching Ling's fingers.

Then she gently twisted her wrist, and the phone screen faced her face.

The whole process—from raising her hand to seizing the phone to lowering her head to view—took no more than half a second.

Ling's hand still hovered mid‑air, still holding the phone, fingers slightly spread, before she could react the phone had already been snatched away by the quiet‑looking pink‑haired sister in front of her.

Bachongying's hand also lingered in the air, fingertips about ten centimeters from Sakura's wrist, her body leaning forward slightly, her expression a subtly paused‑like awkwardness.

Ling looked down at her empty hand, then looked up at Sakura, her mouth forming a circle.

"Wow."

She let out a genuine exclamation, "Sister Hiying, your hand speed is insane! What have you practiced? Empty‑hand art? Sword Path? Magic?"

"Just a little bit."

Sakura's voice remained steady, her head unmoved, her ash‑purple eyes already fixed on the phone screen.

The photo on the screen was a pair portrait.

The background showed a sun‑lit courtyard, a cherry‑blossom tree in full bloom, pink‑white petals covering the stone path, and a few red prayer ribbons hanging from the branches, fluttering gently in the breeze.

Deep in the courtyard a wooden shrine corridor could be seen, with a tricolor cat and a bamboo broom placed on it.

In the photo, Bachongying wore a pure white miko outfit, a plain white under‑garment, scarlet hakama tied at the waist, a deep‑red belt fastened neatly, its end dangling a golden bell pendant.

Her long hair was bound at the back with a plain white sandalwood paper strip, and a fresh crimson camellia was tucked behind her ear.

The miko sleeves puffed lightly in the breeze; she tilted her head slightly, a gentle smile that Sakura had watched all along lingering at her mouth corner, her eyes curving into two lovely crescents.

Standing beside Bachongying was a young woman with white hair.

Her milky‑white long hair was braided into a tidy single‑side plait that fell from the shoulder to the waist, the ends tied with a black bow ribbon, a few wispy bangs framing her forehead and cheeks.

Her eyes were a clear azure, the iris depth like the deepest layer of the ocean; the curve at the corners carried a natural sharpness, but the smile now softened that edge into a captivating, dashing allure.

Her face had a smooth oval contour, skin a delicate cool‑white that glimmered with a thin translucent sheen in the sunlight.

Her lips lifted slightly; the smile shed the innate stern aura between her brows, adding a touch of neighbor‑girl warmth.

The outfit she wore instantly shifted the scene's vibe from "shrine miko daily life" to a "phantom thief‑themed stage play."

Overall it featured deep purple and dark blue as primary tones, the tailored cut accentuating her tall, balanced figure to the fullest.

A vivid purple kiteflower adorned the neckline, its petals still bearing dew.

Over the long sleeves lay a layer of deep‑purple lace gloves, the intricate pattern extending from wrist to fingertip, faintly revealing the white skin of the back of the hand.

The garment was embellished with raven‑feather‑style ornaments, each feather shimmering with a dark‑blue metallic sheen, unfolding in layers as she tilted slightly.

The lower half featured ultra‑thin, same‑tone thigh‑high stockings, the dark fabric clinging tightly to the smooth curve of her legs, and she wore dark high‑heels set with a tiny violet crystal.

She also wore a black half‑eye mask, covering only a small area around the eyes, leaving the azure irises and the slightly up‑turned corners exposed, adding a mysterious, alluring aura to her face.

Together they stood, one a gentle, dignified white‑clad miko, the other a dashing, mysterious violet‑kite phantom thief.

Sunlight filtered through the cherry‑blossom branches, sprinkling dappled light over both of them.

Bachongying's fingers gently hooked the edge of Kalian's lace glove, while Kalian's other hand lifted, fingertips pinching a freshly plucked pink cherry blossom, about to place it into Bachongying's hair bun.

Sakura's mind completely froze in front of this photo.