“What am I doing—talking to a rabbit?”

She drew her hand back with a soft laugh, the feel of the rabbit’s soft ear still lingering at her fingertips.

Crouching down so her gaze met the silvery-gray puff of fur at eye level, she didn’t even notice the morning dew soaking her skirt hem.

“You can understand me, can’t you?”

The moment the words left her lips, the tips of her ears turned red.
Emerald eyes darted in a flurry before finally settling on the rabbit’s faintly twitching nose.

A wisp of dandelion fluff clung to the girl’s lashes, trembling lightly with each breath,
and Yun Cangyue suddenly recalled the clumsy kindness of Lin, the nursing intern who used to slip her candy at the nurses’ station.

The resemblance was uncanny.

Coming back to herself, she found her gaze caught in those eyes—bright as starlight.

Someone with eyes like these… surely couldn’t be bad.

Without thinking, she followed her heart and nodded.

“Ahhhh—”

Liu Xiyu’s gasp caught in her throat.
She jerked back half a step, hands sketching a half-circle in the air before snapping back to her sides.

Her lashes quivered in surprise, flecks of gold dancing in her pupils.

“You—you really understand?”

Her voice cracked at the end, excitement spilling over.
Fingers tightened unconsciously on the honeysuckle embroidery of her skirt, crumpling the petal patterns into a tangled knot.

It wasn’t until the rabbit leaned forward, pressing its head into her stiff palm, that she seemed to thaw from her petrified state.

First, she bent her finger at the knuckle to give the rabbit’s ear a gentle tap—then, as if suddenly brought to life, she hopped twice in place,
the golden tassels twined in her hair jingling with a clear, bright note.

It didn’t resist, letting her fuss with it as she pleased.

“How are you so well-behaved?
If I were a bad person, you’d be in trouble!”

The sudden lift in her view dropped Yun Cangyue into a gentle embrace, as soft as the feeling this girl had already given her.

Listening to the girl’s murmurs, she tilted her head upward—catching sight of a pale, rounded chin.

So cute. Still just a child, she thought.

If Heaven had seen fit to place her in this world after death, then so be it—she would make herself at home.

And since she was a rabbit now, she might as well do her part as one.

…So this is what it feels like, having ears on top of your head.
She let the thought drift, idly twitching them as her mind traced the new sensations of her body.

Cradling the little bundle in her arms, Liu Xiyu walked to a spot thick with small, ripe berries and set her down.

“This is one of my favorites—so sweet. Try it.”

As she spoke, she held a berry to the rabbit’s mouth.

Yun Cangyue studied the glossy fruit.
Although she wasn’t particularly hungry, she had no intention of turning down the girl’s gesture.

Her head tilted slightly as she tried to steady the berry with her paw—only to miss and lunge forward into empty air.

When the memory of eating as a human collided with a rabbit’s instincts, she remembered—she no longer had opposable thumbs.

Her forepaw brushed the berry, slipped, and her pink nose bumped hard into the taut skin of the fruit.

What followed was a frantic scramble to her feet, a few unsteady steps, and another tumble—on repeat.

With every roll she picked up more dandelion fluff;
by the fourth plunge into the clover patch, she looked like a mochi ball sprouting ears.

After an uncountable number of spills, she decisively chose to flop onto her side—cowardice, perhaps, but useful.

Staring up at a sky fractured into glittering shards by the treetops, she was struck by a memory of her chemotherapy days, watching the tiny bubbles rise and fall in an IV line for hours on end.

Back then, even turning over had required a nurse’s help.
Now, the freedom to fall as she pleased felt like a rare kind of luxury.

At least, this time, the pain was her own…

She stuck out her tongue, licking the reddened tip of her nose, tasting of grass-sap and sunshine.

“Hahaha!”

Watching the little one—so full of energy just moments ago—collapse onto the ground in utter defeat, Liu Xiyu couldn’t help finding it both funny and adorable.

Such a baby… she could barely walk in a straight line.

“It’s alright. Let’s try again—I’ll help you.”

Gently, she steadied the little bundle’s body so its four legs didn’t have to bear all the weight.

The sudden warmth bracketing her sides made Yun Cangyue lose focus yet again—for the… how many times today?

It felt as though every fragment of warmth she’d been missing in her previous life was being restored, piece by piece, in this one.

How long had it been since she’d truly felt another person’s body heat?

Even a simple hug had once been out of reach.

“What’s wrong? Too hungry to move?”

The voice above her drew her out of her thoughts.

Time to get used to this new body—unexpected, yes, but at least it was healthy.

With that thought, she vowed to live well.

Shaking her head to clear it, she worked with the gentle upward hold, slowly bringing her forepaws and hind legs under control.

After a few minutes of practice, she could finally direct those short limbs with precision, hopping toward the cluster of berries.

Her first attempt at eating like a rabbit ended in surprise—— the skin of the berry burst on her tongue, flooding her senses with sweetness so intense it made her ears shoot upright.

Liu Xiyu gave a soft snort of laughter and quickly dabbed the juice from the whiskers with her sleeve.

“Slow down—no one’s going to steal it from you.”

When the little dumpling toppled face-first into berry pulp for the third time, Liu Xiyu simply sat cross-legged and set her in her lap.

“Try it like this?”

She cupped the rabbit’s front paws around the fruit, the warmth of her palms seeping through the fur.

Yun Cangyue froze—the last time her mother had held her hand had been on the day they signed the Do Not Resuscitate order.

That hand had been colder than this one, and slick with the touch of rubber gloves.

“You’re shaking so much… are you cold?”

Misreading the tremor, Liu Xiyu loosened her collar and tucked the rabbit against her chest.

Living warmth enveloped her in layers, carrying the scent of grass and soapwort.

Yun Cangyue buried her face in the folds of the girl’s clothing until the moisture in her eyes was drawn away by the fabric.

By the time dusk swept over the ridgeline, Liu Xiyu had woven a simple sling from her belt.
Her fingers bore fine cuts from grass stems as she hummed a little tune, tucking wildflowers one by one along the rim.

“Let’s go home.”

She settled the well-fed puffball against her chest, her fingers absentmindedly smoothing the rabbit’s ears.

“How about I make you a little nest?
Dried lavender for the bedding, and I’ll ask the carpenter for a three-tier platform…”

Listening to the increasingly extravagant plans, Yun Cangyue hooked a strand of golden hair with her claws and gave it a gentle tug.

“Ow!”

The girl’s exclamation was followed by a laugh—then a stumble as her foot caught on a tree root.
Swaying like a swing, the sling rocked back and forth.

Their eyes met in that split second of shared surprise and flaring fur,
just as the silhouette of a startled night heron swept through the forest canopy and settled in both their gazes.

On the way back, Yun Cangyue glanced at the berry stains still clinging to her claws.

The image of the last bowl of rib soup from her previous life—gone cold—rose in her mind, her mother’s hand slowly overlapping with the girl’s palm now cupping the base of the sling.

All at once, she stretched out her limbs, pressing the soft pink pads of her paw to Liu Xiyu’s chest——
where a strong, healthy heartbeat pulsed against her touch, as if answering her rebirth.

“Want another?”

From her pocket, Liu Xiyu produced a Lingberry she’d secretly saved, its skin glowing with a warm sheen in the dusk.

Yun Cangyue gave a small shake of her head, nestling her head back into the crook of the girl’s arm.

The evening breeze drifted through the treetops, laced with the scent of cooking fires.

She felt herself securely cradled, being carried down a road that would never again end at a hospital ward.