She Is Not a Witch

After leaving the star world, Loranhil’s figure reappeared in the night sky.

The high altitude, far from the mortal world, was exceptionally clear. The white moon’s enormous circular craters were clearly visible, while beneath the moonlight stretched a vast, boundless sea of clouds. The clouds layered and flowed slowly, like a true ocean.

Between heaven and earth, there was nothing else.

An individual seemed incredibly small in this endless scenery, so small that one could not find their own existence in this moonlit sea of clouds.

Loranhil let herself drift down from the sky with the wind, like a light leaf.

The whisper of wind reached her ears, air currents gliding over her body, bringing a gentle sensation, like the softest bed in the world.

She fell from the high sky into the sea of clouds, a faint mist coating her skin, then emerged from the cloud sea, continuing to fall.

The mist was brushed away by the wind, bringing bursts of coolness, while below lay the city with its scattered lights.

The night scene on the ground inverted in her vision, as if in the sky, and those lights grew brighter.

A distant bell tolled from the harbor, the lighthouse stood silently, and on the main streets, pedestrians, carriages, and vendors were still bustling.

Under the cover of night, Loranhil avoided people’s gazes, slowly floating down to that quiet courtyard, returning once more.

Although it was autumn, cricket chirps could still be heard in the surrounding grass. In the courtyard, the pear tree’s leaves were turning yellow, beginning to fall sparsely.

Loranhil walked onto the lawn in the courtyard. The soil was somewhat soft, and occasionally she could smell a hint of wild grass.

Though it had only been a short afternoon and evening, she felt as if she had experienced years of time, making even this small courtyard seem somewhat unfamiliar.

“I really don’t know how those witches endure such long lives. Do they also get weary at heart?”

She placed her hand on the tree trunk, murmuring to herself. The bark was very rough, uneven, with many flakes falling off. Some wood chips fell onto her hand.

From a distance, the pear tree looked very healthy, lush with branches and leaves. Only when approaching and gently touching the trunk did one discover it was already scarred all over.

Perhaps this was reality.

A breeze blew by, sweeping away the debris in her palm, and she returned to the house.

WHOOSH——

A faint flame ignited among the straw, then spread. The dry branches placed among the straw began to emit wisps of smoke, and a smoky smell started to permeate the room.

CRACKLE——

With a slight sound, the dry branches were ignited by the flame, and the smoke dissipated. A warm, orange flame lit up the girl’s eyes.

She sat by the fireplace, her fair hands picking up a few thick logs and placing them in. The damp wood emitted a faint whistle, tiny bubbles constantly emerging from the wood’s broken ends, turning into wisps of white steam.

The initial dry branches had turned into red embers, brightening and dimming in the night breeze like breathing. Later, their edges turned into grayish-white “fuzz,” finally sliding down into the fine ash in the gentle breeze.

Watching the large logs slowly catch fire, occasionally popping out small sparks with crackling sounds, the girl’s mood seemed to warm considerably. Life had to go on, didn’t it?

She stood up, her skirt sliding over the chair surface, and walked to the small cabinet nearby. Squatting down, she opened the cabinet door, revealing the ingredients inside: potatoes, corn, peanuts, and a large winter melon.

“Hmm…”

Looking at these short, chubby fellows squatting in the corner, Loranhil wondered what to eat tonight. She actually wanted some meat.

No meat prepared, she sighed inwardly, taking out two ears of corn and placing them aside, then taking out three potatoes.

She looked at the pile of raw peanuts but didn’t touch them. Then she placed her slender hand on the winter melon, gently stroking and tapping it, feeling it was still quite large.

Never mind, too much to eat.

She closed the cabinet door, picked up the potatoes, and walked to the fireplace. Using a wooden stick, she dug a small hole in the ash under the fire, placed the potatoes in, then covered them with ash.

Then she turned back to husk the corn. Tearing off the outer green leaves, pulling out the brown silk, made her hands a bit itchy.

Finally, leaving only the innermost two layers of leaves, she buried them under the burning fire like the potatoes earlier. Now she just had to wait patiently.

Warm flames constantly peeked out from the wood fibers. The base was colorless and transparent, a bit higher was white, then pale yellow, orange, red, gradually changing to the flame’s tip, which was wisps of blue smoke.

The girl sat quietly by the fireplace. The orange firelight swayed gently, coating her with a faint golden hue. Her shadow stretched long on the ground, constantly wavering, while the moonlight from outside brought bursts of coolness.

The girl stared at the bright yellow flames, lost in thought. She wasn’t deliberately recalling or thinking about anything, just letting scattered memories slowly rise and fall in her mind. A comfortable, reassuring feeling spread in her heart.

It seemed like a long time ago, it was also like this. Just sitting by the fireplace at home, a faint happiness would slowly rise in her heart. Perhaps she’d also be holding a large calico cat in her arms, with a kettle on the fire, and the sound of adults playing cards coming from the room next door.

And so, the girl leaned back in her chair, watching the gradually blurring firelight. Her eyes slowly closed, her body gently rising and falling as she drifted into a peaceful nap.

In her dream, she seemed to return to her innocent and happy childhood, running barefoot in the mountains, chasing dragonflies. One, two, three… Then pinching the caught dragonflies with her fingers, examining them carefully.

Lifting the calico cat high, imitating the Lion King’s gesture.

Then, afraid it would struggle and scratch her, quickly putting it down, taking out the prepared dragonflies, offering them to it, coaxing it to come over, soothing the cat’s nervous heart.

While it ate, stroking its smooth fur, constantly comforting it, then picking it up for another round~

The fire burned quietly. Without realizing it, she dreamed of many, many things…

POP——

With the burst of a small spark, Loranhil opened her eyes, her mind much clearer and more comfortable.

The fire before her had gradually dimmed, surrounded by a circle of burned wood. The cross-sections near the center were black with carbon traces, with scattered flames clinging to the surfaces, seeming as if they might go out at any moment.

The girl stirred the branches, gathering the burned wood towards the center to make them burn anew. Only then did she remember the corn and potatoes she had buried earlier.

Raking away the ash, one side of the potatoes had already carbonized, emitting a burnt smell. The corn was slightly better, having been buried not as close. Peeling back the damaged leaves revealed plump kernels inside, exuding an enticing aroma.

A bit hot to handle, the girl thought.

Using two wooden sticks to pick up the charred potatoes, she tossed them into the air. A stream of air enveloped them, then a few thin wind blades cut away the blackened parts, leaving half a steaming potato slowly falling into the girl’s palm, still separated by a thin layer of air to prevent burning.

The skin of the baked potato was easy to peel, revealing the soft interior. But it was still too hot to eat.

After Loranhil used a gentle breeze to cool it down, she finally took a bite. The faint sweetness of starch began to spread in her mouth.

After eating a few potatoes, it was time for the corn.

Roasted corn was one of the girl’s favorites from her previous life. Both the act of roasting corn and eating it brought joy.

The corn kernels had some charred marks on the surface, but the inside was very sweet. The hot grains mixed in her mouth, seemingly allowing her to taste the flavor of fire.

And so, on a quiet night, the silver-haired girl happily ate corn, completely disregarding the charcoal stains on her cheeks, like a calico cat.