Chapter 19
Lou Mi hadn’t known Chi Lin possessed such arcane knowledge. Few people her age, or even her grandfather’s generation, knew how to use an abacus.
And Chi Lin was surprisingly proficient.
As they discussed the high school curriculum, Lou Mi discovered the bizarre gaps in Chi Lin’s knowledge.
She struggled with basic English grammar but could eloquently discuss historical figures and their reforms for hours.
If Lou Mi hadn’t stopped her, she might have continued until morning.
Chi Lin’s Chinese essay, written in classical Chinese, had even the teacher baffled.
And in Geography, she had questioned the Earth’s spherical shape, wondering why people on the “bottom” didn’t fall off.
“Are you kidding me?” Lou Mi had retorted, rapping her on the head with a chopstick.
“Don’t hit people with eating utensils,” Chi Lin protested.
“Is that an invitation for me to use my hands?” Lou Mi asked, having finished reviewing the exams. “Your academic imbalances are… impressive. When’s your next exam?”
“There are quizzes and tests almost every day, but the next major exam is the midterms in two weeks.”
“Okay, I’ll tutor you in English. High school English is easy. Just memorize the vocabulary and grammar rules. I still remember most of it. We’ll start with vocabulary drills every night.”
“There are vocabulary apps,” Chi Lin said.
Lou Mi seized the opportunity to lecture her. “It’s not the same. Having me drill you is more effective. You can’t slack off when I’m watching.”
“I won’t slack off,” Chi Lin said earnestly.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you. But why do you think schools and teachers exist? You could just study at home. Schools and teachers provide structure and supervision. It’s important.”
“Fine…”
“Now go finish your homework. How much do you have?”
“Not much. I can finish it in two hours.”
“After that, memorize the vocabulary from the first two lessons. And if you can, memorize the dialogues. I’ll quiz you later.”
“Okay!”
“Go on.” Lou Mi shooed her away and started clearing the table.
Afterward, she practiced for an hour. At 10:30 pm, they sat together in the living room, a rare occurrence.
The living room was usually occupied by Lou Lixing and Peng Ziyuan. Lou Mi and Chi Lin treated it as a neutral zone, communicating via WeChat or shouting from their doorways, avoiding direct contact.
Chi Lin handed Lou Mi her English textbook, and Lou Mi used her large gaming tablet for their vocabulary drill.
Chi Lin’s pronunciation was stiff and unnatural, like someone who had never spoken English before, but she memorized the words quickly, reciting over twenty words flawlessly.
Lou Mi corrected her pronunciation, and Chi Lin, a quick study, seemed to grasp the nuances.
After their late-night study session, Chi Lin returned to her room, still wide awake.
“Still studying?” Lou Mi asked, leaning against her doorframe.
Chi Lin used to keep her door locked. Now, it was always open.
“Your explanations helped me understand things better,” Chi Lin said, her face lit up with excitement. “I’m not tired yet. I want to review everything to reinforce my learning.”
“It’s just ‘fine, thank you, and you.’ Do you really need to review that?”
“Is there something wrong with that dialogue?” Chi Lin asked, genuinely confused.
Lou Mi wondered if she was too old. Didn’t kids these days know this classic Chinglish joke?
“Never mind. Study if you want. Your mom will be happy if you get good grades.”
Chi Lin was surprised by her words. “I thought you didn’t like my mother and me.”
Lou Mi was even more surprised by her directness. “I don’t dislike your mom. I just dislike you.”
Chi Lin: “…”
Seeing her expression, Lou Mi laughed.
“It’s all in the past. Didn’t you dislike me too? We’ve been at each other’s throats for two years. No need to pretend. But that was before. You’re… different now. Keep it up. It’ll be good for your mom’s health.”
“I’ll try. Good night, Sister.”
“Mm. Good night.”
As Lou Mi walked back to her room, Tiger, having just relieved itself in the yard, was vigorously rubbing its paws on the doormat.
Tiger, Chi Lin’s corgi, had been with her for years, a gift from her father.
The goofy dog wagged its fluffy butt at everyone, even strangers.
“Hey, Tiger,” Lou Mi said, crouching down to pet it, a rare display of affection.
Tiger, overwhelmed, nuzzled her hand enthusiastically.
“Calm down…” Lou Mi had disliked the dog, especially after the cabinet incident, but tonight, she found it slightly endearing.
For the next two weeks, Lou Mi came home on time every night to tutor Chi Lin.
Zhuo Jinglan, curious, asked, “You’ve been so punctual lately. Rushing home to see your sister?”
Lou Mi knew who had been gossiping. “No, I’m not ‘seeing’ my sister. I need to be well-rested for the World Cup. Thanks to you, I haven’t been sleeping well. I’m finally catching up on sleep. What’s wrong with that?”
Zhuo Jinglan nodded, then immediately reported to the private chat: “Punctual homecoming to tutor her sister.”
Xie Buyu: “Lan-jie is surprisingly dedicated to this gossip. Daily updates.”
…
Lou Mi’s improved sleep wasn’t about duration. She still stayed up late tutoring Chi Lin and woke up early for practice. She was both talented and hardworking, a true embodiment of “the harder I work, the luckier I get.”
She averaged five hours of sleep, but the quality had improved significantly. After tutoring Chi Lin, she would shower, collapse into bed, and fall asleep instantly, waking up refreshed and energized.
She could now practice for two to three hours without headaches.
Her focus and concentration were back to their peak.
Two days ago, she had consulted Dr. Bai, a specialist in esports-related health issues, about her headaches and memory problems.
Dr. Bai, a young, approachable woman, attributed her improved sleep and focus to the second round of treatment and her improved mood. Maintaining a positive outlook was crucial.
“Try to limit your practice time to two hours a day to reduce the strain on your brain. How are your headaches?”
“My PT index is between 5.2 and 5.6.”
“That’s still too high. Normal PT levels for mental exertion are between 0.8 and 1.1. Yours is significantly elevated.”
Lou Mi, usually assertive, adopted a meek demeanor in front of doctors.
“I know, but the Winter World Cup is coming up. The pressure is immense. If we don’t win, it’ll be a national embarrassment. We have to practice constantly. It’s a mental game.”
“Remember what I told you last time? I wasn’t exaggerating.”
Lou Mi remembered Dr. Bai’s gentle yet terrifying warnings about survival rates and mortality.
“But it’s good that you’re sleeping better. Try to increase your sleep time to seven hours.”
“I’ll try.”
“Not ‘try.’ I want you to maintain at least seven hours of sleep for a month before we start the third round of treatment.”
Regardless, Lou Mi’s headaches had lessened considerably.
She hummed as she drove home.
The midterm results should be out today. If Chi Lin did well, she would give her a break from tutoring.
She had seen Chi Lin’s efforts these past few weeks. She deserved a night off.
When she arrived, Chi Lin was already home.
Lou Mi, taking off her jacket, said cheerfully, “So, how did you do? Don’t be shy. Show me your scores.”
Chi Lin sent her the results.
Chinese: 65. Math: 51. Humanities: 124, mostly from History. And after two weeks of intensive tutoring, English: 64.
“Not bad! Better than I expected. What’s your ranking?”
“Eleven places higher than last time.”
“That’s great! What’s with that face?”
“The teacher wants to meet with our parents,” Chi Lin mumbled.
Parent-teacher meetings after midterms were normal.
“But your mom isn’t back yet,” Lou Mi said.
“I know, but the teacher might not believe me. She’ll think I’m making excuses.”
“So what do you want?”
Lou Mi sensed what was coming.
“Sister,” Chi Lin said, “can you go? Pretend to be my parent.”
“I can go, but the teacher won’t be happy if I say I’m your sister. It’ll be obvious you couldn’t get your real parents to come.”
“Just say you’re my mom.”
Lou Mi’s eyes widened. “What?! I’m only seven years older than you! How can I be your mom?”
“People became mothers at fifteen in ancient times,” Chi Lin said seriously.
“Even at fifteen… I’m still too young! Get your abacus and do the math.”
“Oh, is the age gap not that big? I thought you looked older… I mean, you look so young…”
Lou Mi grabbed her collar. “I’m twenty-five! Seven years older than you! You little brat! Do you want me to throw you out the window?”
They were still arguing, but the tone and context, and even their underlying emotions, were different now.
Lou Mi didn’t know what Chi Lin was thinking, but she herself felt less irritated.
She used to dread seeing Chi Lin, avoiding her whenever possible.
Despite her dislike, she had rarely expressed it openly, out of respect for her father’s happiness.
A mature adult didn’t create unnecessary drama, even if it involved her own father.
Her dad had always indulged her, supporting her choices and showering her with affection.
She owed him that much.
But with her esports career at a crossroads and the team in turmoil, the pressure was mounting.
And Chi Lin’s constant antics had only exacerbated her stress.
She had resigned herself to a lifetime of mutual animosity with Chi Lin.
But now, she found herself bickering with Chi Lin, a strange mix of playful banter and genuine annoyance.
Bickering was different from arguing.
Arguments left her feeling angry and hurt.
Bickering, however, was strangely… entertaining.
Had they actually developed some sort of sisterly bond during their parents’ absence?
Lou Mi looked at her reflection in the mirror. Even without makeup, she didn’t look old enough to be a high schooler’s mother.
Was Chi Lin messing with her?
She tied her hair in a high ponytail, hoping to look younger. And her usual skimpy sleepwear had been replaced by a loose t-shirt and shorts.
She could pass for a college student!
But her long hair, pulled back tightly, strained her scalp, and the ponytail swung wildly, hitting her in the face…
She took it down.
Why bother trying to look younger for that little brat?
A parental figure should exude maturity and composure.
She would meet Chi Lin’s teacher with her hair down.
…
They agreed to meet by the school building during the exercise break. Lou Mi arrived on time, wearing a mask and sunglasses. Several students stared at her.
Even with her face covered, her striking figure and aura commanded attention, especially in a sea of green school uniforms.
“Doesn’t she look like Lou-jie?” two girls whispered, slowing down as they passed by.
“You can recognize her even with a mask and sunglasses?”
“I could recognize Lou-jie even if she was wearing a paper bag. That small face, that perfect nose… I have to ask!”
“Don’t embarrass yourself!”
As they argued, Chi Lin hurried down the stairs.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said. “The teacher kept us after class. Have you been waiting long?”
“Let’s go,” Lou Mi said, noticing the curious glances.
The exercise break music had started. Soon, the hallways would be flooded with students.
“This way,” Chi Lin said, leading her to a service elevator in a secluded corner, usually used for transporting equipment and large packages. It was rarely used by students.
They waited for the elevator. The doors opened, revealing a cramped space filled with boxes.
The delivery driver, apologetic, squeezed himself into a corner, making room for them.
“Come in, come in,” he said. “Otherwise, you’ll have to wait a while. There’s more cargo coming up.”
Chi Lin hesitated. She knew Lou Mi was a celebrity, her fame exceeding her initial expectations.
She doubted Lou Mi would appreciate being crammed into an elevator with boxes.
“Let’s go,” Lou Mi said, flicking Chi Lin’s cheek. “What are you waiting for? Don’t you want to see your teacher?”
They entered the elevator, standing close together in the confined space.
Lou Mi’s perfume, usually subtle, was now more pronounced.
Chi Lin, slightly flustered, turned her head away.
Lou Mi, thinking she had bumped into Chi Lin, moved closer to the boxes, trying to give her more space.
Chi Lin, seeing her pressed against the boxes, tugged at her sleeve and looked up.
“I’m fine,” she said softly. “You can move closer…”
Lou Mi, surprised by her unexpected considerateness, took a small step forward.
If you insist…
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