Chapter 28
Lou Lixing and Peng Ziyuan arrived, placing their gifts aside. Grandma and Grandpa, finally exhausted from their singing, collapsed onto the sofa, one gasping for breath, the other gulping down water.
They hadn’t even noticed their son and his soon-to-be wife arrive, still reveling in their duet.
Grandma held Chi Lin’s hand, praising her perfect pronunciation and delivery.
Grandpa, having recovered, sighed contentedly.
“It’s been years since I’ve enjoyed Danzhou opera so much. It’s just us old folks who still appreciate it. So few people can sing it anymore, and the younger generation hasn’t even heard of it.” He had just noticed his son and immediately used him as an example.
Lou Lixing, unpacking gifts, said with a smile, “I’ve heard of it, Dad. You and Mom used to sing it all the time when I was a kid. But you never explained the lyrics. It was like listening to a foreign language. Dad, this is a telescope from Ziyuan. You can see the Great Red Spot on Jupiter, and if you try hard enough, maybe even Pluto.”
Grandpa thanked Peng Ziyuan, who went to the kitchen to wash some fruit.
“It’s an ancient art form,” Grandpa continued. “I learned a few verses from my own grandfather. He didn’t even know what he was singing. I had to travel all over to collect fragments of the opera, and your Uncle Zhuang and I spent years piecing it together, finally identifying it as Danzhou opera.”
Chi Lin listened, her heart pounding.
Danzhou was the secondary capital of Dayuan, her hometown.
Though she had grown up in the capital, her family spoke with a Danzhou accent, and the unique melodies of Danzhou opera had been the soundtrack of her childhood. Of course, she knew how to sing it.
While Lou Mi had been talking to Grandpa in the kitchen, Chi Lin and Grandma had sat in awkward silence.
Even with her changed appearance, she was still Chi Lin.
Grandma, making small talk, turned on the TV.
She had forgotten the TV was connected to her phone, and a video of her and Grandpa singing Danzhou opera started playing.
Chi Lin’s eyes lit up, recognizing the familiar melody.
“This is Danzhou opera,” Grandma said, reaching for the remote. “You young people probably don’t like it. What do you want to watch? Cartoons?”
Chi Lin shook her head, her gaze fixed on the screen. “Grandma, I want to hear this.”
Grandma, thinking she was being polite, chuckled. “It’s just noise to you young folks.”
Hearing the words “Danzhou opera,” Chi Lin was certain it was the opera she knew, though they called it “Yuqiang” in Danzhou. She was surprised it had survived, even being renamed after its place of origin, while Dayuan itself had been erased from history.
Hearing the familiar melodies and dialect from these modern elders, Chi Lin’s eyes welled up, and she joined in, singing along.
Grandma was astonished.
“You know how to sing this, Chi Lin?”
“Yes!”
That was the scene Lou Mi had witnessed upon returning from the kitchen.
Grandpa, hearing someone singing Danzhou opera, rushed out of the kitchen, spatula in hand.
Seeing Chi Lin singing, he was also stunned.
Lou Mi took the spatula from him, and he joined the impromptu performance.
Lou Mi, besides finishing her grandfather’s cooking, found herself playing the erhu, accompanying their singing.
“Mimi’s erhu playing is… mediocre,” Grandpa said to Chi Lin. “She never practiced. She’s talented, but she gave up after a year or so. It’s… passable.”
“Grandpa, you’re using me as your accompanist while insulting my skills?” Lou Mi retorted. “Find someone else if you’re not satisfied. I’d rather relax and enjoy the show.”
Chi Lin was impressed by Lou Mi’s audacity, even daring to talk back to her grandfather.
Grandpa chuckled. “I was being polite. You’re too talented. I can’t praise you too much, or you’ll get a big head.”
“I like that,” Lou Mi said.
Chi Lin looked at the erhu, similar to the xiqin, a common instrument in Yuqiang opera.
Lou Mi, playing the erhu, seemed out of place, like someone in modern clothes on the streets of ancient Dayuan.
But despite the incongruity, her playing was surprisingly skillful, evoking a wave of emotion in Chi Lin.
It was far from “passable.” It was almost professional.
The four of them continued their impromptu performance until Lou Lixing and Peng Ziyuan arrived.
Lou Lixing, seeing his father had cooked the entire birthday meal, felt guilty.
“Next time, tell me what you want to eat, Dad, and I’ll cook it for you.”
Grandpa, still exhilarated from his singing, waved his hand dismissively.
“By the time you cook, I’ll be dead.”
Lou Mi, eating, added, “Didn’t you and Grandma disown him? You even told me to tell him you didn’t have a son.”
Lou Lixing, used to being teased by his family, didn’t take it to heart.
He rarely had time for his family.
Lou Mi had been raised by her grandparents and continued to visit them regularly.
Even his own parents rarely saw him. Lou Mi maintained those relationships for him.
He should be the one doing these things, but he was always busy, leaving it to his daughter.
That’s why he spoiled her, indulging her every whim, contributing to her somewhat domineering and outspoken personality.
“Yes, yes, it’s all my fault,” he said. “Tell me what you want me to do today, and I’ll do it. No complaints.”
Lou Mi placed a chicken leg on his plate. “Just eat your dinner and be quiet.”
Lou Lixing looked at her gratefully.
Peng Ziyuan, ever the gracious hostess, served everyone, joining the conversation without dominating it, ensuring everyone felt included.
Lou Mi, seeing her efforts, steered the conversation towards Chi Lin and Danzhou opera to give Peng Ziyuan a break.
“Chi Lin, how do you know Danzhou opera? I’ve never heard you sing before.”
Peng Ziyuan, also curious, remained silent, giving Chi Lin a chance to explain.
Lou Mi, having spent more time with Chi Lin lately, was confident she wouldn’t have another outburst. She was almost… normal now.
Perhaps it was the martial arts manual? Lou Mi was intrigued.
Chi Lin, having prepared an explanation, said, “I’ve been reading Dad’s history books lately. I haven’t had a chance to tell him yet.”
Lou Lixing chuckled. “Those books are just for show. Most of them are too dense and complicated. I never have time to read them. I’m glad someone appreciates them. Feel free to read them all. They’re just collecting dust.”
Chi Lin continued, “I found a mention of Danzhou opera, also known as Yuqiang, in one of the books. It’s an ancient opera about the lives of ordinary people. I found it fascinating.”
“That’s right!” Grandpa exclaimed. “Danzhou opera is also called Yuqiang! You’re quite knowledgeable, Xiao Chi Lin.”
“I learned it from Dad’s books,” Chi Lin said, resisting the urge to add, “If not for Dad’s discerning taste in literature, I would never have known about it.” It sounded too formal and insincere.
And her grandparents, with their calligraphy scrolls and love for ancient opera, seemed like intellectuals. If she piqued their interest too much, they might ask to see the books, and she had no idea where to find them.
“I needed music for my sword dance at the Cultural Festival,” she continued, “and I thought Danzhou opera might be suitable. I went to the library to find some recordings. They have an audiovisual room. I found some recordings of Danzhou opera and learned a few verses. I ended up using different music for the performance, but I continued visiting the library.”
Lou Mi nodded, the pieces falling into place.
She knew about the Cultural Festival and the sword dance.
And the library trips made sense now.
It all sounded plausible.
“Those recordings are quite rare,” Grandpa said. “Some of the most valuable surviving records of Danzhou opera.”
Grandma, sitting beside Chi Lin, patted her hand. “You’re very talented. The pronunciation and phrasing in Danzhou opera are quite complex. You learned it so quickly. That’s remarkable.”
Peng Ziyuan, seeing her future in-laws’ fondness for Chi Lin, was almost in tears.
“Xiao Lin, you should visit Grandma and Grandpa more often. You share a love for Danzhou opera.”
Lou Lixing added, “What a wonderful coincidence. We can have our own opera performances anytime now.”
Grandma and Grandpa beamed. “You’re always welcome!”
Chi Lin, not wanting to overstep her boundaries and make Lou Mi feel excluded, turned to her and said, “I’ll come whenever Sister is free to bring me.”
The word “Sister” hung in the air, silencing the table.
Chi Lin: “…”
Had her transformation been too sudden? Were they not used to her calling Lou Mi “Sister”?
She looked at Lou Mi, seeking reassurance.
Lou Mi, initially flustered by the public display of affection, saw the unspoken plea in Chi Lin’s eyes and immediately adopted a protective, elder sister persona.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “Xiao Lin has been calling me ‘Sister’ lately. It’s… nice. A bit cheesy, but you’ll get used to it.”
She shuddered internally, cringing at the overly affectionate term.
Chi Lin smiled at her gratefully.
Lou Mi, for some reason, quickly looked away.
Chi Lin: “?”
Why is she so cute when she smiles? Lou Mi thought.
Grandpa, sighing, raised his glass.
“It’s my birthday, but at my age, birthdays don’t mean much anymore. I’m just happy to see you all here. I wish you all success in your work and studies. And most importantly, I hope our family remains happy and healthy, without any… unpleasantness.”
Grandma added, “Let’s not dwell on the past. Grandpa hasn’t had a drink all year, but tonight, he’s celebrating. Thanks to Xiao Lin, he’s had a wonderful evening. Cheers!”
“Cheers!”
Grandpa hadn’t touched alcohol since his doctor advised him to abstain.
But tonight, feeling sentimental, he had indulged.
He poured another glass and offered it to Chi Lin. Lou Mi quickly intervened.
“Grandpa, you’ve had enough. Chi Lin is underage. She can’t drink!”
Tonight, Lou Mi was channeling her inner protective older sister.
“Oh, right,” Grandpa said. “Sorry, Xiao Lin. My old age is catching up to me.”
Grandma frowned. “You’re not old, you’re just drunk. No more alcohol!”
“I’m happy! I’m celebrating!”
“You can celebrate without alcohol. Remember what the doctor said?”
Grandpa put his arm around Grandma’s shoulder. “Alright, alright, I’ll listen to you.”
Grandma, mortified by his public display of affection, pushed him away.
Lou Lixing, also slightly tipsy, chuckled and said to Peng Ziyuan, “I’ve never seen my parents kiss. I have no idea how they managed to have me.”
Peng Ziyuan froze, and Lou Mi almost choked on her wine.
Grandma, furious, almost flipped the table. “Watch your mouth! Go to bed!”
Lou Lixing, suddenly remembering his childhood fear of his mother’s wrath, sobered up instantly.
“Maybe you should rest,” Peng Ziyuan said, leading him away, hoping to avoid a scene.
She knew he would be fine after a short nap.
With Lou Lixing gone, Peng Ziyuan helped Grandma and Grandpa clear the table.
Lou Mi and Chi Lin offered to help, but they were dismissed.
“You girls can relax and have some fruit,” Grandma said.
Lou Mi went to the bathroom and returned to find Chi Lin missing.
Where did she go?
Chi Lin, seeing everyone busy, had poured herself a glass of wine.
She enjoyed alcohol.
In Dayuan, alcohol was a common part of every meal, from peasant to noble, even consumed during court sessions. And festivals were always accompanied by copious amounts of alcohol.
As a thirty-two-year-old adult, Chi Lin was accustomed to drinking.
She wanted to try the alcohol of this era.
She had resisted the urge several times, mindful of the original owner’s age and the legal drinking age.
But tonight, the aroma of wine was too tempting.
Just a sip.
She poured a small amount and quietly slipped onto the balcony.
The scent alone was almost intoxicating.
The alcohol was much stronger than Dayuan’s wine. She took a small sip and almost coughed, the strong flavor and burning sensation catching her off guard.
But it was… delicious.
She savored the taste, engaging all her senses.
As she was about to finish the glass, a hand reached out from behind and snatched it away.
“Sneaking alcohol, huh? Underage drinking is illegal, you know,” a voice said.
Lou Mi, taller than Chi Lin, her reach longer, held the glass above Chi Lin’s head, out of her reach.
Chi Lin, feeling a warm buzz from the alcohol, reached for the glass.
“Trying to steal it back?”
Lou Mi stretched her arm further, standing on tiptoe, certain Chi Lin couldn’t reach it.
But Chi Lin, with a sudden, graceful leap, snatched the glass back.
Lou Mi saw a blur of motion, and the glass was gone.
Lou Mi: “?!”
What just happened?
Chi Lin, exhilarated by the alcohol and annoyed by the interruption, looked at the glass in her hand, then at Lou Mi’s stern expression. Realizing she had been caught, she offered the glass back, her gesture unconsciously adopting the formality reserved for elders.
Lou Mi, taking the glass, said sternly, “Explain yourself.”
Chi Lin: “Explain what?”
“You know what. Your recent changes haven’t exactly been subtle.”
Chi Lin’s heart skipped a beat. Did Lou Mi suspect something?
It was possible… Lou Mi might not have known the original owner well, but she was intelligent. Chi Lin’s behavior had been… unusual.
She had initially assumed Lou Mi’s kind nature and aversion to conflict would make her an easy target, so she hadn’t bothered to hide her true self.
But now, Lou Mi was questioning her.
Chi Lin was prepared for this, confident in her ability to maintain her facade, but her heart pounded nervously.
Lou Mi stepped closer, the distance between them shrinking.
Chi Lin tried to back away, but she was against the wall.
“Still not talking? I’ve seen everything.”
Lou Mi’s eyes were like a predator’s, locked onto its prey.
“What do you want me to say, Sister?” Chi Lin asked, straightening her posture, refusing to be intimidated.
Lou Mi narrowed her eyes. “You…”
As long as she denied everything, no one in this scientifically minded world would suspect soul transmigration.
Lou Mi: “…Just…”
Chi Lin’s throat tightened.
Lou Mi stared at her for a moment, then sighed.
“Never mind.”
Chi Lin: “?”
Lou Mi smiled. “You have your secrets.”
Chi Lin: “…”
She doesn’t want to talk about the martial arts manual. I shouldn’t pry. She’s finally acting normal. I shouldn’t push her. If she wants to tell me, she will, eventually.
Her smile widened, her expression radiating confidence.
Chi Lin, usually so composed, felt a flicker of panic.
“What secrets? I don’t have any secrets.”
Lou Mi simply smiled, saying nothing.
Chi Lin’s panic intensified.
“When you’re ready to talk, I’ll listen.”
Seeing Chi Lin’s genuine distress, Lou Mi decided not to tease her any further.
She thought her words were comforting, but Chi Lin felt a pang of guilt.
Lou Mi’s gentle understanding made her feel like a fraud, deceiving everyone in this family.
She had never been a liar. Her upbringing and education emphasized honesty and integrity, especially towards loved ones.
Now, she was forced to lie to protect her secret.
She had assumed it would be easy, but she hadn’t anticipated the warmth and acceptance she had found in this strange new world.
She dreaded the day she would have to leave, wondering how Lou Mi would react.
Seeing her silence, Lou Mi sighed.
“I’m not forcing you to talk. Why are you so… tense? Just yell at me like you used to. Don’t bottle it up.”
A martial arts manual was a childish fantasy. Lou Mi didn’t care about it.
“Here, have some wine. It’ll help you loosen up,” she said, offering the glass.
Chi Lin’s eyes lit up, but as she reached for it, Lou Mi quickly withdrew it.
She hadn’t intended to give it to her.
Seeing Chi Lin’s eager expression, Lou Mi almost laughed.
“You actually believed me?”
Chi Lin: “…”
“Fine, you can have some. You’re almost eighteen anyway. A little early celebration won’t hurt. But you have to ask nicely.”
Chi Lin: “…”
So that’s what this is about.
Lou Mi’s playful expression confirmed she was serious.
“Please, Sister,” Chi Lin said.
Lou Mi swirled the wine in the glass. “Not sincere enough. I don’t sense your desperation for alcohol.”
“…You’re a good person, Sister. Please, can I have some wine?”
Lou Mi shook her head. “Sounds rehearsed. Fake.”
Chi Lin fell silent.
Lou Mi had a strange fondness for being begged.
And Chi Lin had never been good at asking for favors.
Her family had often described her as proud and aloof, her reputation as a prodigy further inflating her ego.
Even the Empress, before ascending the throne, had been the one to confess her feelings, and Chi Lin had hesitated for a long time before reciprocating.
The Empress had written poems, flown kites, and showered her with affection before finally eliciting a response.
Chi Lin was probably the only person in history to make an Empress beg for their love.
Asking for favors wasn’t in her nature.
But she felt indebted to Lou Mi, so she softened her tone, her voice almost a whisper.
“Please, Sister…”
It wasn’t a plea, but a soft, almost coquettish request.
Lou Mi, who had intended to tease Chi Lin and assert her dominance, was caught off guard by her unexpected charm.
“Ugh, stop it. That’s embarrassing,” she muttered, defeated.
As Chi Lin reached for the glass, Lou Mi retreated into the house.
“Underage drinking is illegal. I can’t give it to you.”
“What?! You liar!”
Lou Mi grinned. “Now you’re getting to know the real me.”
Chi Lin: “…”
She was speechless.
So Lou Mi had never intended to give her the wine, just toying with her on the balcony.
Lou Mi hummed as she walked away, Chi Lin following her with a resentful glare.
Lou Mi ignored her and quickly finished the wine, afraid Chi Lin might use her newfound martial arts skills to steal it.
No matter how skilled she was, she couldn’t steal something that had already been consumed.
She looked at Chi Lin, expecting a reaction, but Chi Lin seemed more embarrassed than angry, as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t.
Instead of arguing, Chi Lin quickly excused herself and went to find Peng Ziyuan.
Lou Mi: “?”
What just happened?
She had drunk Chi Lin’s wine, and Chi Lin hadn’t even protested?
She looked at the empty glass, remembering Chi Lin’s cough earlier, when she had been observing her from behind the sliding door.
Had Chi Lin choked on the wine?
It was possible…
So Chi Lin had drunk from the glass.
Lou Mi examined the rim of the glass. Only her own lipstick mark remained. Chi Lin wasn’t wearing any makeup.
But Chi Lin had definitely drunk from the glass.
Lou Mi wanted to die.
No wonder Chi Lin hadn’t protested. She must have thought Lou Mi was some kind of pervert, using an indirect kiss as a weapon.
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