Chapter 111: The Dragon Who Did Not Want Friends

The tunnels of the Dragon Peaks were, Yòu Lín had decided, the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Better than honey. Better than Mama’s spicy noodles. Better even than the time papa Zhāo Yàn had tried to teach him to balance on his tails and had fallen into the river instead. (He still brought that up at dinner sometimes. Papa Zhāo Yàn made a very satisfying sputtering sound when he did.)

“Are you sure this is the right way?” Ruì Xuě asked from behind him. His voice was small and echoey in the crystal passage, bouncing off walls that glittered like frozen rainbows.

“The tunnels don’t have wrong ways,” Yòu Lín said confidently. “They just have ways that take longer.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“No it’s not. Wrong means you made a mistake. Longer means you’re having an adventure. There’s a difference.”

Ruì Xuě’s ears flattened against his head. “Mama said we weren’t supposed to have adventures without Hóng Yè.”

“Hóng Yè is napping.”

“He’s always napping.”

“Exactly. We can’t wait for him forever. Adventures wait for no one. That’s a saying. I think. It should be a saying.”

Ruì Xuě opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, a familiar voice rang out from somewhere above them.

“YOU CAME BACK!”

Yòu Lín looked up.

Glimmer was clinging to a crystal formation about fifteen feet above their heads. The dragon’s scales, the color of new leaves, caught the light and threw it back in tiny rainbows. Her wings were half-spread, her tail was wrapped around the crystal for balance, and her face was split into the widest, most gap-toothed grin Yòu Lín had ever seen.

“You came back you came back you came back!” Glimmer let go of the crystal and dropped.

Yòu Lín laughed and held out his arms.

Glimmer landed on him like a falling boulder.

“Oof!” Yòu Lín staggered, his legs buckling under the weight of a dragon who was, apparently, much heavier than she looked. “You’re heavy!”

“I’m GROWING,” Glimmer said proudly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed. “Mama says I’m growing very fast. Soon I’ll be as big as Uncle Cāng Jì.”

“No you won’t,” Ruì Xuě said.

“Yes I will.”

“Uncle Cāng Jì is huge.”

“I’ll be huger.”

“That’s not a word.”

“IT WILL BE WHEN I’M HUGER.”

Ruì Xuě and Glimmer stared at each other. Yòu Lín, still being crushed, waved a hand between them.

“Can we do the bouncy rocks now? You promised bouncy rocks.”

Glimmer’s face lit up. She released Yòu Lín so fast he barely had time to catch his balance. “YES! The bouncy rocks! They’re the best! They’re so bouncy! You’re going to love them!”

She grabbed both cubs by the paws and began dragging them down the tunnel at a speed that was frankly alarming.

“Wait!” Ruì Xuě yelped, his legs scrabbling for purchase on the smooth stone. “We can’t—Mama said—we have to be back by—”

“We’ll be back!” Yòu Lín called over his shoulder. “Probably!”

“PROBABLY ISN’T GOOD ENOUGH!”

~

The bouncy rocks were, as promised, extremely bouncy.

They were not rocks.

They were some kind of crystal formation that grew in wide, flat plates, each one stacked above the next like a staircase made of frozen light. When you jumped on them, they didn’t crack or break. They bounced. The higher you jumped, the higher they bounced you back.

Yòu Lín had never been so happy in his entire life.

“This is AMAZING!” he shrieked, launching himself off the topmost plate and sailing through the air. The wind whipped through his fur. The crystals below him glittered like a sea of stars. For one perfect moment, he was flying.

He landed on the lowest plate, bounced twice, and came to a stop in a heap of limbs and laughter.

“Did you see that? DID YOU SEE THAT?”

“I saw,” Ruì Xuě said. He was sitting on the edge of the lowest plate, his tail wrapped around his legs, watching his brother, trying to hard that he was enjoying it.

“Do it again!”

“You do it again.”

“I’m tired!”

“You’ve done it seventeen times.”

“Seventeen times isn’t enough! Seventeen times is just practice! I need to do it at least thirty times before I’m good!”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Adventures don’t have to make sense!”

Glimmer, who had been watching the proceedings suddenly perked up. Her wings fluttered. Her tail went stiff.

“Oh,” she said. “Oh no.”

Yòu Lín stopped bouncing. “What?”

“I hear someone. Coming this way. Someone who—” Glimmer’s scales went from bright green to a dull, muted gray. “We should go.”

“Why? Who’s coming?”

“It’s—” Glimmer’s voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s Mother.”

Ruì Xuě, who had been inching toward the edge of the bouncy rock froze.

“Your mother?” Yòu Lín asked.

“Mama. Zhàn Yù,” Glimmer whispered, and the name landed in the crystal cavern like a stone dropped into still water. “She’s—she’s not—she doesn’t like—”

She didn’t finish. She didn’t have to.

The tunnel at the far end of the cavern lit up with a glow that was not the soft rainbow of the crystals. It was harsher. Brighter. The color of a storm about to break.

And then she was there.

Zhàn Yù was not like the other dragons Yòu Lín had met.

Cāng Jì was all golden drama and flailing indignation. Cāng Yáo was glittering jewelry and louder chaos. Dà Jiāo Huǒ was ancient and terrifying and, secretly, very soft. Elder Emberglow was sad and grumpy and also, secretly, very soft.

Zhàn Yù was none of those things.

She was tall, even for a dragon in human form. Her scales were the color of bruised thunderclouds, dark gray shot through with veins of angry purple. Her hair was pulled back so tightly it looked like it hurt. Her face was sharp, and her eyes….

Her eyes were the color of lightning. Pale. Electric. And they were fixed on the three small creatures huddled on her bouncy rocks.

“What,” she said, “is this.”

It wasn’t a question.

Glimmer made herself very, very small. “Mother. I can explain.”

“You can explain,” Zhàn Yù repeated. Her voice was cold. The kind of cold that didn’t need ice to freeze. “You can explain why you have brought lowlander pests to my territory. To my rocks. To my—”

“They’re not pests!” Glimmer’s voice cracked. “They’re my friends! Yòu Lín and Ruì Xuě! They’re good friends! They’re kind and they’re funny and they’re—”

“Friends.”

The word dropped like a slap.

Zhàn Yù’s eyes swept over the cubs. Over Ruì Xuě, who had gone very still, his purple eyes wide. Over Yòu Lín, who had stopped bouncing and was standing very straight, his tail tucked, his ears flat.

“You,” she said, and the word was ice, “are friends with lowlander cubs. With the get of that cursed female. The one who has corrupted the Burning Sky. Who has turned our court into a nursery. Who has brought chaos to the peaks.”

“My mama is not cursed,” Yòu Lín said.

The words came out before he could stop them. Before he could remember that dragons were big and scary and could eat him if they wanted.

Zhàn Yù’s eyes snapped to him.

Yòu Lín’s tail tucked tighter. His heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his ears. But he didn’t look away.

“She’s not cursed,” he repeated. “She’s my mama. She’s the best mama. She fights hydras and makes spicy noodles and she’s not cursed at all. You shouldn’t call her that.”

The cavern went very, very quiet.

Glimmer made a sound like a mouse being stepped on. Ruì Xuě grabbed Yòu Lín’s arm, his claws digging in. Even the crystals seemed to dim.

Zhàn Yù stared at him.

And then….she moved.

In less than a second she was looming over him, her face inches from his, her eyes blazing with fury.

“You,” she hissed, “do not speak to me of your mother.”

Her hand came up.

Yòu Lín flinched. Ruì Xuě grabbed him and pulled. Glimmer threw herself forward, her tiny body a shield—

And Zhàn Yù’s hand passed through the space where Yòu Lín’s head had been, closed around a crystal formation behind him, and shattered it.

The sound was enormous. Crystals exploded outward, raining down in a shower of glittering shards. Yòu Lín felt them bounce off his fur, felt Ruì Xuě’s grip on his arm, felt Glimmer’s wings wrapping around them both.

“Run,” Glimmer whispered. “Run run RUN.”

They ran.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep