On the sunlit back porch of the [Gu Family Flying Courtyard Star-Cruiser], the morning breeze carried the sweet scent of golden osmanthus blossoms and freshly washed laundry.
Seated on a low bamboo stool with three shiny gold [WORLD’S #1 BEST MOM] star stickers gleaming proudly in the center of her forehead, Empress Luo Qingxue held ten-year-old Su Nuannuan’s pink gardening overalls across her lap.
In her left hand, she pinched a tiny white pearl button over the shoulder strap.
In her right hand, held between her thumb and index finger, was a two-inch mortal silver sewing needle threaded with pink cotton string.
Gathered in a respectful semi-circle five paces back on the porch—watching with the tense fascination of bomb-disposal experts. Were Gu Changsheng, the five children, Grandpa Fu, Grandpa Yao (who had prudently lowered one of his alchemical blast-visors back over his monocle), and Auntie Qin.
“Remember what Dad taught me at the stove this morning,” Luo Qingxue murmured to herself, her clear phoenix eyes locked onto the four tiny holes in the pearl button as if she were targeting the weak point of a Star-Destroyer reactor core. “Do not release an uncontrolled area-of-effect frost blast. Instead, compress one hundred percent of my spiritual focus into a single, microscopic point at the very tip of the needle so it won’t slip and prick Nuannuan’s cloth!”
