Chapter 42
As soon as Lou Mi posted the picture, notifications flooded her phone.
“Oops, forgot to turn off notifications,” she muttered.
“Let me see what they’re saying,” Chi Lin said, curious.
“No rush. We can look when we get to my grandparents’ house,” Lou Mi replied, setting the navigation and starting the car.
“But…” Chi Lin was eager to see the reactions.
Lou Mi, seeing her eagerness, decided to tease her.
“Tell me about your recent quiz scores first. And any subjects you’re struggling with. Did you finish the error correction notebook?” she asked, adopting a stern, parental tone.
“Yes,” Chi Lin replied.
“Show me. If you’ve been a good girl, I’ll let you see the comments.”
Chi Lin, sighing internally at Lou Mi’s childishness, pulled out her phone and opened the error correction notebook.
Lou Mi projected it onto the car’s display and reviewed it carefully.
She had been tutoring Chi Lin in English, and Chi Lin, starting with practically zero knowledge, had made significant progress.
Chinese, history, and politics relied heavily on memorization, requiring Chi Lin’s own effort.
Math and geography, however, required Lou Mi to brush up on her own knowledge.
Despite her busy schedule, she had downloaded her old textbooks and notes, refreshing her memory. Now, looking at Chi Lin’s errors, she knew where to focus.
She spent the rest of the drive explaining the concepts and solutions to Chi Lin, who, seeing her serious demeanor, put aside her curiosity and focused on the problems.
While they were immersed in their studies, the internet was exploding.
Lou Mi’s Weibo post had already garnered thousands of likes, shares, and comments.
The numbers continued to climb.
When they arrived at her grandparents’ apartment complex, having finished reviewing the notebook, Chi Lin reminded Lou Mi about the Weibo comments.
“If you’re that curious, follow me and look yourself,” Lou Mi said, still teasing her.
“I don’t know where you posted it,” Chi Lin admitted, still unfamiliar with the intricacies of social media.
She knew how to search for information, but the internet remained a vast and mysterious realm.
“Weibo. You don’t even know what Weibo is?”
Chi Lin remembered the original owner’s Weibo account, used primarily for ranting and raving.
Lou Mi, having teased her enough, fearing further delays might trigger an outburst, opened the comments section.
The initial comments were predictable:
“Lou-jie posted! After five hundred years! She remembers her password!”
“Showing off her sister. So cute!”
“Lou-jie, look at me! I’m Nanfeng1008!”
“Are you guys blind? She said it’s her sister, not her girlfriend.”
“Don’t you know Lou-jie almost caused a riot at South Lake Third High, just to defend her ‘sister’?”
Then, the comments became more… suggestive:
“Sisterly love or something more? Stay tuned.”
“Remember when Lou-jie took a noob to the Snow Demon fight? Her first time playing with someone outside the team. Everyone was speculating about the noob’s identity. Could it be… the sister?”
“Time to create a ‘Snow Vegetable’ CP hashtag!”
“A powerful, elegant older sister and a sweet, innocent younger sister? My favorite kind of CP!”
“You guys are delusional. HighTowerMiyuki would never date a high school student.”
Lou Mi coughed. “They’re just joking,” she said to Chi Lin.
“So I was the ‘noob’ everyone was laughing at,” Chi Lin said.
Lou Mi: “Well…”
“What does ‘noob’ mean?”
Lou Mi: “It’s…”
“And what does ‘CP’ mean?”
Lou Mi fell silent.
“Never mind. Let’s go upstairs. Everyone’s waiting.”
As she was about to put away her phone, Chi Lin snatched it and continued reading the comments, her back to Lou Mi.
“Hey! That’s rude!” Lou Mi protested.
Chi Lin ignored her, scrolling quickly.
The discussion had shifted to the possibility of a romantic relationship between HighTowerMiyuki and her “sister.”
“I have proof.”
A user posted two pictures, one of Lou Mi, one of Chi Lin.
“Notice the ring on the younger sister’s neck? It matches the one on Lou-jie’s left ring finger. Rose gold and platinum.”
“Left ring finger… married?! Her parents aren’t even married yet!”
“Wow, good catch!”
“A friend of mine at South Lake Third High said they’re wearing matching couple rings. The school doesn’t allow jewelry, but the younger sister is wearing it as a pendant. And Lou-jie was practically showing off her ring when she came to the school, like she wanted everyone to see.”
“So she wants the world to know she’s in love?”
“Is our Lou-jie really that kind of person? Isn’t she supposed to be straight and single?”
“I’m so jealous! Lou-jie is in love, and it’s not with me!”
“I wouldn’t normally approve, but that younger sister is… acceptable.”
Lou Mi, seeing Chi Lin’s continued silence, tapped her shoulder.
“Okay, that’s enough. Give me my phone. We have to go.”
Chi Lin slowly turned around, handing her the phone, her face flushed.
Lou Mi, surprised by her sudden obedience, noticed the blush on her cheeks and the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.
“I think I understand what ‘CP’ means now,” Chi Lin said. “They think we’re… a couple.”
“It’s normal,” Lou Mi replied.
“Is it? Aren’t we… sisters?”
Lou Mi, feeling a strange surge of annoyance at the word “sisters,” asked, “Are we?”
Chi Lin, sensing her displeasure, fell silent.
Lou Mi, realizing her own unusual reaction, quickly locked her phone and got out of the car.
Chi Lin followed her to the elevator.
The elevator ride was silent, the tension palpable.
Lou Mi mentally scolded herself for being so petty.
Of course, Chi Lin didn’t want to be seen as her girlfriend. It was perfectly normal.
Why had she snapped at her?
She wanted to apologize, but apologies were difficult for her, especially to someone younger.
When the elevator reached their floor, she stepped out, Chi Lin still trailing behind her.
As she reached for the doorbell, she felt a tug on her sleeve.
“Sister,” Chi Lin said softly, her eyes wide and slightly teary, her hand clutching Lou Mi’s sleeve, “please don’t be angry. I shouldn’t have taken your phone. I’m sorry.”
Lou Mi: “…”
“I won’t do it again,” Chi Lin added.
Lou Mi nodded, touched by her apology, and gently stroked her head.
“I’m not angry. It’s okay. Let’s go inside.”
Chi Lin smiled sweetly.
Lou Mi, maintaining her stern, elder-sister facade, internally screamed: She’s so cute! How can she be so adorable?! Apologizing even though it wasn’t her fault! My heart!
Chi Lin had used her most powerful weapon: cuteness.
But Lou Mi still seemed slightly upset.
She was even harder to appease than the Empress.
Chi Lin followed her inside, wondering how to further mend their relationship.
Her concern was genuine, not calculated.
She hadn’t even analyzed why she cared so much about Lou Mi’s feelings.
Grandma opened the door.
Lou Mi hugged her and kissed her cheek.
“Grandma, I missed you! Did you miss me?”
“Of course, I missed you,” Grandma said, then immediately turned to Chi Lin, her arms open wide.
“Lin Lin! You’re here too! Are you cold? Your face is so red. Come inside and warm up!”
Lou Mi: “You only said three words to me, and thirty to Chi Lin…”
Grandma hugged Chi Lin and playfully swatted Lou Mi’s arm. “Don’t be jealous. You’re both my granddaughters. Come in, come in.”
Lou Lixing, wearing a black sweater and, as always, barefoot, emerged from the kitchen, holding a rolling pin.
“We’ve been waiting for you. Why are you so late? We were hoping you could help us make dumplings.”
Lou Mi, seeing the rolling pin and flour on his hands, asked, surprised, “You know how to make dumplings?”
“Of course. I learned in two hours,” Lou Lixing replied proudly.
“And you’re proud of that?” Grandma scoffed. “Your generation, including Mimi, is so reliant on AI. You can’t even make dumplings. Are you even Chinese?”
Lou Mi grinned, massaging her grandmother’s shoulders. “It’s okay. We have robots to do it for us.”
Grandma, still clinging to Chi Lin, said, “Dumplings made by robots lack… soul. Go sit on the sofa and wait for dinner.”
Seeing her grandmother’s obvious favoritism, Lou Mi asked, “Where are you taking Chi Lin?”
“To warm up, of course. And you, as her older sister, should have reminded her to dress warmer. She’s almost in eleventh grade now.”
Grandma, considering Lou Mi her own granddaughter, felt comfortable scolding her and doting on Chi Lin.
Lou Mi, understanding her grandmother’s intentions, chuckled. “So Lin Lin is the favorite now, just because she sang a few opera songs with you?”
Chi Lin, having just offended Lou Mi and now witnessing Grandma’s blatant favoritism, felt a pang of guilt.
She glanced at Lou Mi and saw her looking at her sideways.
Uh oh.
Lou Mi had braved the crowds at school to defend her, even confronting the teachers.
She should be grateful, not causing more trouble.
Lou Mi, however, oblivious to Chi Lin’s inner turmoil, was actually quite pleased. She went to the kitchen and found Lou Lixing and Peng Ziyuan struggling to make dumplings under Grandpa’s supervision.
Lou Lixing’s dough flew across the room, and Peng Ziyuan’s dumplings exploded.
Grandpa sighed. “Who would have thought such a simple, traditional task would be so challenging for your generation… and don’t even get me started on Danzhou opera. It’s a dying art form.”
“Just get an AI to sing it for you,” Lou Lixing suggested. “It can sing all day and night without getting tired.”
Grandpa, raising his rolling pin, smacked Lou Lixing on the butt.
“AI! All you think about is AI! Can a robot replace a human being?!”
Lou Lixing winced. “Dad! They’re watching…”
“I’m your father! I can do what I want!”
Lou Mi, watching the scene unfold, grinned. “Good job, Grandpa! Dad, you sound just like me when I was a kid.”
Lou Lixing, attacked by both his father and his daughter, his hand throbbing from the rolling pin, looked defeated.
Finally, the dumplings were cooked and served.
Chi Lin, seeing the familiar dish, felt a pang of nostalgia. They were called “bianshi” in Dayuan, but the shape and filling were identical to modern dumplings.
“How many do you want?” Lou Mi asked.
Chi Lin, seizing the opportunity to appease her, said, “However many you give me, Sister.”
Lou Mi, pinching her nose, said, “You’re so cute. Don’t worry, you’ll get plenty.”
Chi Lin leaned closer and whispered, “Are you still angry?”
Lou Mi realized Chi Lin thought she was still upset about the Weibo post.
Seeing her genuine concern, Lou Mi almost wanted to prolong the misunderstanding.
“Do you think I’m angry?” she asked.
Chi Lin, experienced in appeasing the Empress, replied smoothly, “Of course not. You wouldn’t be angry at me.”
“Oh? And why not?”
Chi Lin, seeing the smile in Lou Mi’s eyes, knew she had been forgiven. She smiled back.
Then, remembering the Empress, her smile faded.
The Empress was still missing, and she had not only complimented another woman but also… flirted with her.
How could I…?
The Empress would be heartbroken if she knew.
Her face fell, and she silently took a bowl of dumplings and sat across from Lou Mi.
Lou Mi, observing her sudden mood swing, muttered, “What’s with the bipolar disorder? Teenage hormones?”
As they began to eat, Lou Mi’s phone vibrated incessantly. It was the group chat, Xie Buyu and her gossip squad undoubtedly buzzing with excitement over the Weibo post.
She ignored her phone, focusing on her food.
Lou Lixing and Peng Ziyuan, carrying bowls of dumplings, their faces flushed from the heat of the kitchen, emerged from the hallway.
Lou Mi had assumed three or four bowls would be enough. She and Lou Lixing were the only ones with big appetites.
But the table was overflowing with dumplings.
“Dad, how many stomachs did you borrow from a cow? We’ll be eating dumplings all night,” she said.
Lou Lixing looked at Grandpa, who smiled mysteriously.
Something’s up.
Ding-dong—ding-dong—
The doorbell rang. Grandpa told Lou Lixing to answer it.
“Here we go,” Grandma said, her eyes twinkling, looking at Chi Lin.
Chi Lin exchanged a puzzled look with Lou Mi.
Lou Mi shrugged. I have no idea.
The door opened, and a wave of voices, laughter and greetings, filled the apartment, as if an entire tour group had arrived.
“Long time no see, Xiao Lou! Still so handsome!”
“Is that Lixing? He looks so young!”
“I thought he was a movie star!”
Lou Lixing greeted his parents’ friends and colleagues, helping them with their shoes while enduring their comments about his appearance.
Lou Mi and Peng Ziyuan joined him.
Lou Mi recognized them as her grandparents’ opera enthusiast friends.
“See how long you’ve been gone, Dad?” she teased. “They don’t even recognize you anymore. Welcome, everyone! Please come in and make yourselves comfortable.”
She finally understood why her grandparents had invited them tonight.
And why Grandma had been so focused on Chi Lin.
Her grandparents’ friends might not know Lou Lixing well, but they treated Lou Mi like their own granddaughter, their easy banter suggesting frequent visits.
Lou Lixing felt a pang of guilt. He couldn’t compare to his daughter in this regard.
Peng Ziyuan served tea, and the guests thanked her.
The living room was filled with elderly people, thirteen or fourteen in total.
The spacious room suddenly felt crowded.
They all looked at Chi Lin, their eyes shining with anticipation.
“Lao Lou, is this the Danzhou opera prodigy you were talking about? Xiao Lin?”
Chi Lin greeted them respectfully, suddenly transported back to her childhood.
Her family often had guests, eager to meet the child prodigy who excelled in everything.
She had been paraded before them, reciting poetry, solving riddles, even performing dances.
“Showcasing her talents” had been synonymous with “performing tricks.”
She hadn’t escaped that fate, even after traveling centuries into the future.
Leave a Reply