“…Nngh.”

A soft, slightly strained sound escaped her lips as she squeezed her eyes shut.
Through her eyelids, a faint light filtered in, brushing against her consciousness.

When Yun Cangyue finally opened her eyes again, the scene before her made her squint in delight.

A clear blue sky stretched overhead.
The rustle of leaves rose as a gentle breeze stirred the treetops.

Was she… lying on grass?

Oxalis leaves, still damp with morning dew, tickled her nose.
The clover’s signature tang—sharp and green—mingled with the earthy scent of soil and crept into her nostrils.

From somewhere in the distance came the call of a cuckoo, the sound vibrating through the air in delicate ripples.
This new body’s hearing… was incredibly sharp.

Without thinking, she tried to stretch—and immediately noticed something pressing against her back.

She reached behind her.
The sensation beneath her fingers was unfamiliar.
Curious, she gave it a tentative squeeze.

…Huh?

The soft puff responded with an odd feedback, as if someone had grafted a tuft of cotton candy directly onto the base of her spine.

Then it hit her—this wasn’t behind her.
This was part of her.

Oh no.

Some deep biological instinct flared.
She twisted around to check—

—and was instantly horrified.

The thing she’d been lying on was her. Panicking, she flung her hands up for further inspection—and her eyes landed on a paw.

A soft, furry thing, utterly unfamiliar.

The paw pads were a delicate coral pink, nestled in silky silver-gray fur, under which faint bluish veins could just be seen.

As the morning breeze stirred the fur along her forearms,
she spotted a crescent-shaped marking on the inner side—
in the exact spot that mirrored the scar from her chemotherapy port, once nestled beneath her collarbone.

She slapped her cheeks.
Then ran her hands up her face.
And finally pressed down on the strange bump atop her head—

What met her gaze was a pair of ears.

“…A r–rabbit?”

Surprisingly, the vibration of her own voice made her ears twitch with a strange, ticklish echo.

The long ears—undeniably rabbit-like—sprang upright the moment she cried out.
The inside of her right ear, a pale pink hue, looked nearly translucent under the morning sun, like a petal catching light.

She gave a cautious flick of one ear.
At once, the sound of a distant sparrow’s wings flaring open thundered in her head like an explosion.

Even Yun Nothing-Can-Phase-Me Cangyue couldn’t hold it together anymore.

Her hind legs kicked out involuntarily, and with a graceless sprawl she tumbled backwards—straight into a patch of wild strawberries.

The brambles clung to the fur on her haunches, and a dry shudder rippled up her spine.

Meanwhile, today marked the sixteenth birthday of Liu Xiyu, beloved daughter of the prestigious Liu family.

In Yunxi Town, the Liu family had long been known for their wealth.
Generations of merchants, they were not rich enough to rival kingdoms—but certainly far beyond the reach of common folk.

As the first ray of sunlight gilded the sweeping eaves of their ancestral home,
Liu Xiyu was already slipping away toward the back hills, lifting the hem of her satin skirt.

Morning dew clung to the tips of her embroidered shoes like tiny crystal beads,
falling with each third step and tapping against the mossy stone path in a rhythm clear as chimes.

This was her secret ritual—
a tradition of stealing away before the hunt began, performed once every year on this very day.

Whoosh!

A sharp whistle split the air—an arrow slicing through sky.
It was a familiar sound, arriving right on cue.

Her ever-indulgent father, Liu, would always host a grand hunting competition right after her birthday morning feast.
The sandalwood invitations, embossed with golden stag emblems, had already reached every noble household in the city half a month prior.

Those gemstone-studded crossbows and silver-gilded quivers were likely now laid out in the front courtyard, gleaming with a cruel kind of glory.

Liu Xiyu gathered her skirt tighter, long raven lashes lowered.

She had never liked the sight of blood—
but she had long mastered the art of calming her family with soft smiles and clever words.

As the final neighs of restless horses blurred into the birch grove’s hush, she stepped fully into the quiet wilds beyond.

Petals like spring snow blanketed the path ahead.
The scent of honeysuckle curled into the golden tassels of her hair.

Everything here felt untouched—
so untouched, it seemed it could wash clean even the glint of gilded arrowheads.

“Ahhh… how blissful~”

She hopped along, delighting in the beauty and purity of the blossoms, especially fond of the back hills at this time of year.

Bending down to breathe in a cluster of wild roses, the golden braid over her shoulder slipped loose;
the tiny silver bell tied at its tip startled a few blue-winged butterflies into the air.

When she reached out to catch a drifting petal, she suddenly noticed a faint trace of silvery-gray fur clinging to her fingertips.

Wandering in a slow rhythm of pausing and strolling,
she caught sight of a small shape stirring in the distance—immediately seizing her attention.

That silvery-gray patch caught her eye among the raspberry bushes,
like someone had snipped off a corner of early winter’s morning mist and left it behind.

Liu Xiyu realized the tuft of fur was rising and falling in an oddly steady rhythm, as though engaged in some kind of breathing meditation.

Hm?

Were there still other animals around at this hour?

A flash of the morning’s memory came to her—the iron cage outside the stables, and the despair in the eyes of foxes chased down by hounds.

Her nails dug unconsciously into her palms, leaving a crescent-shaped crease in the handkerchief she held.

It was hardly surprising, she thought—after all, with the ruckus of the hunt,
anything left behind outside the enclosed grounds rarely met a good end.

She slowed her steps, slipping behind a tree.
The view wasn’t perfect, but she had both time and patience to watch unseen.

Gathering the gold-embroidered hem of her gown over her knees, the scent of honeysuckle drifted from her sleeves.

Through the gaps in the dogwood branches, she stilled her breath, adjusted her gaze—until at last she could see the source of her curiosity.

Her mind screamed——So. Cute!

It was a rabbit, small enough to fit in her palm.

Sunlight filtered through the fur at the tips of its ears, gilding them with a soft halo.

More wondrous still, a tuft of snowy-white fur in the shape of a crescent moon lay on its chest, lifting and sinking with each breath like a tiny pulsing star.

It sprawled under a tree, utterly defenseless in a relaxed starfish pose.

She watched in silence as the little creature,
all of a sudden, the little creature opened its eyes—squinting, touching its tail, then its paw, before pressing down one ear.

The left ear sprang stubbornly back into place, just like the unruly lock that always escaped when her nursemaid combed her hair.

The sheer cuteness of it was enough to make her want to squeal—
and in fact, she failed to hold it back.

“Ahh!”

The cry slipped out before she could stop it.
She clapped her handkerchief over her mouth, but it was too late.

Her jade bangle struck the silver chain of her scent sachet, producing a crisp chime that startled the bundle of fur—

—the rabbit flipped over in an instant, front paws guarding its head in a comically human-like gesture of defense.

It was so absurdly human that she forgot to feel alarmed.

As Yun Cangyue tried to make sense of the situation before her, a voice—clear and sweet as a bronze bell—drifted into her ears.

The sound sent a strange resonance through her rabbit ears, each note a feather’s caress against the eardrum.

With the sharp hearing of a rabbit, she turned her gaze precisely toward the source—

—and saw a girl of about fifteen or sixteen. The girl froze for a moment before slowly making her way forward.

Because the light was behind her, Yun Cangyue could only make out her silhouette.

The backlit figure was rimmed in gold, the pearl tassels woven into her hair scattering iridescence, its gleam evoking the cold spin of a CT scanner.

Since she had already been spotted, Liu Xiyu decided there was no point in hiding.
She began to approach the little bundle, careful not to startle it.

Step by step, the distance closed until she could see the small rabbit remained utterly still—perhaps even… a little dazed.

Unfastening the silk handkerchief at her waist, scented with chamomile oil, she spread it carefully on the ground before kneeling upon it.

Her skirt fanned across the earth like a blooming camellia, the golden thread of its embroidered butterfly wings trembling faintly with her movement.

In truth, Yun Cangyue was stunned by the visual adaptability of this new body—
only moments ago, the girl before her had been no more than a backlit silhouette,
yet now she could see even the fan-shaped shadows cast by her eyelashes in perfect clarity.

As the girl drew nearer, Yun Cangyue took in her form:

a flawless oval face, delicate features, golden hair braided long and draped over her shoulder.
Her tall, slender frame held a softness that did not diminish its strength.

A fine sheen of sweat glistened at the tip of her nose;
the faint blue veins along her neck quivered slightly with each breath;
and around her collarbone, a necklace pressed against a shallow red mark—clear proof she had only just escaped the confines of a cumbersome formal gown.

Most striking of all was her gaze—
eyes that smiled even in their unwavering focus.

Emerald irises, rimmed with an amber halo;
and when she blinked, it was like sunlight filtering through the pebbled bed of a clear stream.

Perhaps it was the absurdity of the situation that unsettled Yun Cangyue’s usually composed mind.

In a daze—she felt a gentle stroke at the crown of her head.

The fingertips bore faint calluses, skimming past the base of her ear with practiced care, deftly avoiding the sensitive veins beneath.

From that point of contact, a warmth spread through her,
calling to mind the jolt of a defibrillator striking her chest when she had been on the brink of death.

And then, once again, that bright voice reached her ears.

“I’m Liu Xiyu.” “Little rabbit, will you come with me?”

Before the final syllable had faded, a sudden gust swept through the grove, carrying the mingled scent of myrtle blossoms.

The girl’s braid unraveled into a cascade of streaming light,
and the moonstone pendant entwined within it swung into view—

—within that silvery crystal, a glowing pulse was sealed,
its waveform a perfect match to the heart monitor’s trace from Yun Cangyue’s previous life.

On this bright, sunlit afternoon, they met for the first time.

High above, a cloud shaped like a parasol tree leaf drifted across the sky—
its veins aligning flawlessly with the lifeline that curved across the girl’s open palm.