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."
