Chapter 26
If Lu Yin didn’t understand the implication, she was truly dense.
“We’ll buy some,” Lu Yin said, pulling over and looking for a supermarket.
But they were on a street lined with restaurants and small convenience stores.
“If only you had bought some in advance, like a surprise,” Lin Qianqian said, touching the bare seatbelt.
She remembered the deer antler hair clips. She needed to buy more.
Lu Yin never used such frivolous accessories, and even if she did, they had to be gifts from Lin Qianqian.
“Alright, I’ll buy some tomorrow,” Lu Yin said dismissively, starting the car.
“Boring,” Lin Qianqian muttered.
“Then I’ll buy some now?”
“I don’t want any anymore.”
Lu Yin, tired of this pointless back-and-forth, drove home.
Lin Qianqian sighed dramatically, feeling neglected.
“Poor me.”
Lu Yin clicked her tongue, annoyed.
“But that was before. Now I have food and a place to live. It’s fine,” Lin Qianqian quickly amended, then, seeing Lu Yin’s expression, fell silent.
On their way home, they passed a restaurant, and Lu Yin asked what she wanted, buying two takeout meals.
That evening, Lin Qianqian sat beside Lu Yin, watching her grade student assignments.
A thick stack of papers, dozens of them. Lin Qianqian watched Lu Yin scan them quickly, most receiving a C, the best a B.
“They don’t look that bad,” Lin Qianqian pointed at a nearby paper, marked B-. “Like this one.”
“It’s traced. The anatomy is all wrong. It looks like a monster,” Lu Yin glanced at it. “A B-minus is generous.”
“Right,” Lin Qianqian suddenly remembered. There were no A’s, but also no D’s. “What about D’s?”
“Unless it’s a blatant attempt to avoid doing the work, none of the teachers give D’s anymore.”
“Why?”
Lu Yin paused, her pen hovering over a paper. “During the first term, one of the teachers gave out too many D’s and was reported by the parents and students.”
“Who?”
“Why do you care?” Lu Yin noticed a grease stain on a nearby paper and waved Lin Qianqian away, starting to write comments on the first assignment.
Lin Qianqian tossed the empty takeout containers in the trash, grabbed the stained paper, and began to doodle.
She drew a wall and a stick figure.
Something was missing. She drew a large circle around the grease stain, adding wavy lines. A perfect sun.
It was a habit from childhood. Whenever Lu Yin gave her a piece of paper to draw on, she always drew a large, round sun.
“Who stands in the corner under the sun?” Lu Yin asked, glancing at her after a long silence.
“Who says that’s me?” Lin Qianqian quickly changed her story. “Who says I’m being punished?”
“Aren’t you? I thought you were drawing yourself as a child,” Lu Yin returned to her grading. “But I never made you stand in the corner under the sun.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“We could try it now,” Lu Yin glanced at the weather forecast. “It’s supposed to be sunny tomorrow.”
Lin Qianqian threw down her pen, glaring at Lu Yin.
She had always hated being made to stand in the corner.
It was a common punishment in school, for being late, falling asleep in class, or any other minor infraction.
Lin Qianqian had been punished countless times.
But when Lu Yin used the same method at home, it felt different, somehow more humiliating.
Lu Yin was her sister, not her teacher.
And yet, Lu Yin always seemed to choose the punishments she disliked the most.
Later, Lin Qianqian had rebelled, and the ruler had been added to the corner-standing routine.
And then…
She had started to enjoy it.
Especially when Lu Yin held the ruler and counted down, and she would finish the countdown before Lu Yin, or even count down in decimals.
0.9, 0.8, 0.7…
Seeing Lu Yin staring at her in silence, she would relent, asking meekly, “How about I take my pants off this time?”
After twenty seconds, there was no pain, no redness on her bottom, only on her face.
Back then, their relationship had been purely familial.
She added a speech bubble to the stick figure, instinctively writing a countdown inside.
She quickly scribbled it out, glancing at Lu Yin, relieved to see her still engrossed in her work.
Her phone buzzed. She checked the messages.
Ming Yao was inviting her to dinner. It had been a while, so she agreed.
Ming Yao asked about her progress with Lu Yin, and Lin Qianqian exaggerated Lu Yin’s coldness and neglect.
[Ming Yao: Can I ask you a question?]
[Lin Qianqian: Loved.]
[Lin Qianqian: And still loving.]
[Ming Yao: You’ve already kissed her. Shouldn’t you be taking things further?]
That brought Lin Qianqian back to reality.
Lu Yin seemed content with their current arrangement, not kicking her out, even being affectionate at times, though her words could still be hurtful.
Lin Qianqian rested her head on her hand, remembering Lu Yin’s “punishments” from their childhood.
What had seemed like simple discipline then, now held a different, more suggestive meaning.
If Lu Yin made her stand in the corner now, and used a ruler…
Wouldn’t that fulfill Lu Yin’s earlier suggestion about standing in the sun?
“Why are you looking at me?” Lu Yin asked, without looking up, her intuition uncannily accurate.
“Teacher Xiao Lu is so captivating when she’s focused on her work.”
Lu Yin was usually impervious to distractions.
The institution’s teachers were young and often socialized with their students, receiving birthday surprises and gifts in the office.
Lu Yin would remain unfazed, focused on her work.
But there was one exception: Lin Qianqian.
Perhaps it was a habit from childhood, always dropping everything to attend to Lin Qianqian’s needs.
Or perhaps the girl resembled the figure in her dreams too closely, making her feel uneasy, her thoughts scattered.
And whenever her attention wandered, it always returned to Lin Qianqian.
“Can I take your picture?” Lin Qianqian asked, snapping a photo with her phone.
She looked at the picture, sighing. “Why do you always look at me with such a cold expression?”
She didn’t elaborate.
Lu Yin looked at everyone with that same cold expression now, maintaining a polite but distant demeanor.
Even when she had deliberately tried to make Lu Yin jealous of the little girl that afternoon, she could tell that Lu Yin’s care for the child was different from the care she had shown Lin Qianqian as a child.
If only she could see that genuine, warm smile again, the one that reached Lu Yin’s eyes.
“Why do you always look at me with those pathetic puppy-dog eyes?” Lu Yin asked, gathering the graded assignments and putting them in a folder. “What are you scheming now?”
“I’m not scheming. I’m genuinely pathetic,” Lin Qianqian said, her attention drawn to a message on her phone.
She read the conversation.
She stood up, walked over to Lu Yin, and pulled her arm off the desk.
“Sister, come sit over here,” she said, avoiding Lu Yin’s gaze.
“What for?” Lu Yin asked, but complied, turning to face her.
Lin Qianqian swung one leg over Lu Yin’s lap and wrapped her arms around Lu Yin’s neck. “Sister…”
Lu Yin looked up at her, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and reached out to push her away.
“If you push me, I’m not getting off!” Lin Qianqian declared, determined to assert dominance, to see how far she could push Lu Yin without being rejected.
Lu Yin frowned, leaning back slightly, her other hand on the desk, waiting.
“I’m asking you, do you still…” Lin Qianqian hesitated, the question hanging in the air.
Actions could be tested, but some questions, if asked, could irrevocably damage their relationship.
She always choked at the crucial moment, despite countless opportunities to ask.
She was too afraid.
Lu Yin knew what she wanted to ask, but she didn’t answer.
Knowing what not to say, what not to do, was enough.
She wasn’t honest with herself, let alone with Lin Qianqian.
She couldn’t admit her feelings, clinging to the ambiguity of their relationship, the tangled threads of their past.
The unspoken question hung between them, the answer both known and unknown.
The doorbell rang, breaking the tension. They both glanced towards the door.
“My delivery arrived,” Lu Yin said, picking up the torn folder. “It only fits half the assignments.”
The doorbell rang again. Lin Qianqian got off Lu Yin’s lap.
If she couldn’t ask the question, she could always kiss her again.
Lu Yin hadn’t rejected her kisses, and she couldn’t get enough of them.
Lin Qianqian cursed her own foolishness, watching Lu Yin return with the package.
“Don’t do that again,” Lu Yin said, unpacking the new folder and placing the assignments inside.
“You think I’m a nuisance?” Lin Qianqian asked, unsure if it was a warning or a gentle reprimand.
Always the afterthought. Lu Yin hadn’t complained when she was sitting on her lap, only now, after she had moved.
“Not really.”
“I just wanted to sit,” Lin Qianqian said.
She wanted to be close, to provoke, to make Lu Yin acknowledge her presence.
She shamelessly used her childhood tactics, trying to regain Lu Yin’s attention, her affection.
Lu Yin finished organizing the assignments, placing the folder on the sofa, then finally looked at her.
“If you didn’t like it, you could have just pushed me away,” Lin Qianqian scoffed. “Why pretend to be intimidated?”
Lu Yin didn’t reply, picking up the takeout containers.
One order, two meals. She was only eating now, the food cold and unappetizing.
She didn’t bother reheating it, mixing it with her chopsticks and eating it as is.
Lin Qianqian’s anger flared.
Was this all Lu Yin could do? Give her the silent treatment?
One moment, they were having a normal conversation, the next, she was being ignored, treated like air.
As a child, Lu Yin had patiently guided her, teaching her what to say and what not to say. Now, she was left to fend for herself.
She had had enough.
Before storming back to her room, she threw one last jab at Lu Yin.
“I don’t just want to sit on your lap. I want to sit on your face.”
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