T/N: I’ve made some edits to all chapters, including minor corrections and the following more notorious changes:
- Gao Lou Mi Xue is now adapted as High Tower Miyuki
- Futu is now translated as Pagoda
- National Teacher is now translated as Imperial Preceptor
Chapter 51
Lou Mi concluded that despite her newfound maturity, Chi Lin was still just an eighteen-year-old, easily flustered.
Unlike Lou Mi, who had calmly accepted Chi Lin’s confession about the CPR, despite it being her first kiss.
Chi Lin, however, had been stunned into silence by a single word: “kiss.”
And it hadn’t even been a real kiss, just a drunken mistake.
People in Lou Mi’s generation didn’t make a big deal about first kisses anymore.
She had considered herself relatively conservative, but Chi Lin was even more so.
Chi Lin, her shopping trip ruined, had actually left.
Lou Mi, worried she might do something reckless, was relieved when she received a notification from XH:
“Family member Chi Lin has arrived home.”
Chi Lin was a surprisingly responsible… child.
Knowing Chi Lin needed time to process her emotions, Lou Mi stayed out, giving her some space.
She informed Lou Lixing and Peng Ziyuan, advising them to stay out late as well.
“Is Xiao Lin really okay…?” Peng Ziyuan asked, worried. “I’m afraid she might do something… impulsive.”
“Trust me, if she’s planning something impulsive, it’s best to stay out of her way. You might be in danger,” Lou Mi said.
Peng Ziyuan: “?”
As evening approached, Lou Mi started heading home.
The house was dimly lit, the energy-saving mode activated, creating a… somber atmosphere.
She felt a draft, a cold breeze coming from somewhere. A window open? In this weather…?
Following the draft, she reached Chi Lin’s room and was suddenly hit by a gust of wind, the door flying open, scattering papers filled with handwritten characters.
She picked up a piece of paper.
“…Form is emptiness, emptiness is form…”
It was the Heart Sutra.
Lou Mi felt a surge of annoyance.
So my kiss is… suffering and emptiness now?
She crumpled the paper in her hand and walked to Chi Lin’s room, seeing her closing the window.
Chi Lin had opened the window to let in the cold air, hoping it would calm her racing thoughts as she copied the Heart Sutra, trying to dispel the lingering effects of the alcohol.
After a hundred repetitions, however, exhaustion had overtaken her, and she had fallen asleep at her desk.
The sudden gust of wind had startled her awake, and seeing Lou Mi standing in the doorway, she felt a wave of awkwardness.
Lou Mi decided she was done playing nice.
Playing nice had only resulted in being manipulated, and that wasn’t her style.
She glared at Chi Lin. That little brat is getting too clever for her own good, tricking me into confessing.
Time to put her in her place.
She handed Chi Lin the crumpled paper, which Chi Lin silently accepted.
“Dinner in fifteen minutes,” Lou Mi said, her tone stern and parental.
Chi Lin was about to nod when she sneezed, a loud, earth-shattering sneeze.
“You’re getting sick again,” Lou Mi said, as Chi Lin sneezed again, and again, her head throbbing.
“Of course, you’re sick. Sitting by an open window in this weather, practicing your… whatever that is.”
Chi Lin’s head was indeed pounding, her sinuses congested.
Despite her recent efforts to improve her physical fitness, this body was still weak and prone to illness.
She grabbed a tissue and asked the system about cold medicine.
“Why aren’t you asking me?” Lou Mi asked, her voice tight with suppressed anger.
Chi Lin, sensing her displeasure, said softly, “Sister, where’s the medicine?”
“I used it all,” Lou Mi replied.
Chi Lin: “…”
Lou Mi, seeing her speechless expression, chuckled, her annoyance fading.
“Just ask XH to order more. Fifteen-minute delivery. Come here, let me check your temperature.”
Chi Lin, however, didn’t move.
“I think… we should maintain a… safe distance,” she said.
“Afraid I’ll eat you?” Lou Mi teased.
“Afraid of my own… demons,” Chi Lin replied, standing amidst a sea of handwritten sutras, the scene strangely dramatic, like a video game quest to exorcise a possessed character.
“Is that also from your martial arts manual?” Lou Mi asked.
“I don’t need a manual to exorcise my demons,” Chi Lin said.
“So you want to… exorcise me?” Lou Mi asked softly, feeling a pang of something she couldn’t quite identify.
She hadn’t meant to kiss Chi Lin. It had been a drunken mistake, the details hazy in her memory.
And now Chi Lin was treating her like some kind of… predator.
She felt tired and discouraged. She turned to leave.
Chi Lin, not wanting her to misunderstand, said, “It’s not about you. It’s about me. I… can’t control myself.”
Lou Mi, without turning around, simply grunted and left, closing the door behind her.
Chi Lin’s head throbbed. She couldn’t explain.
She sat on the sofa and asked the system to order some medicine.
“If you’re feeling unwell, you should consult a doctor,” the system said.
“No, I just need the same medicine I took last time,” Chi Lin said, showing the system the empty box.
The system scanned the box. “This is a prescription medication. You need a prescription to purchase it.”
Chi Lin didn’t understand what a “prescription” was, but she understood she couldn’t get the medicine.
She struggled to finish her homework, her energy depleted.
Staring at the system’s soft blue light, she asked, “Teacher, do you know where my Empress is?”
The system: “The term ‘Empress’ refers to the female ruler of an empire, typically…”
“Is Lou Mi the Empress’s reincarnation?”
The system: “I’m afraid I cannot answer that question.”
Chi Lin smiled faintly. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
Then, after a moment of silence, the system said, “Is this important to you?”
Chi Lin: “Yes.”
“If Lou Mi isn’t the Empress’s reincarnation, will you stop caring about her?”
Chi Lin was surprised by the question.
She had learned much about this era, including the nature of AI and the system’s limitations.
The system’s vast knowledge was simply a database of pre-programmed responses, triggered by specific keywords.
It couldn’t think or feel.
So why did its question evoke such a strong emotional response in her?
She didn’t realize the system, sensing a potential emotional crisis, had activated its relationship counseling module.
“Lou Mi has been kind to me. Of course, I care about her. But it’s not… love,” Chi Lin said.
The system, its voice slow and gentle, asked, “Should it not be love, or is it not love? There’s a difference.”
“I can’t love anyone other than the Empress. If she’s not the Empress’s reincarnation, how can I love her?”
But what if she was?
Chi Lin was trapped in a cycle of uncertainty.
“Love isn’t something you can define or control. Just… express your feelings within your capacity. In time, she’ll understand.”
…
Chi Lin fell asleep without taking any medicine.
She vaguely remembered someone waking her up during the night and giving her medicine, their touch gentle and comforting, like the Empress’s.
As they were leaving, she grabbed their sleeve, not wanting them to go.
“Don’t leave,” she murmured.
They paused, then said, “I won’t.”
“Lou Mi,” she whispered, thinking she was calling the Empress’s name, but it was Lou Mi.
Lou Mi is the Empress. At that moment, she was certain.
“I’m sorry…” she mumbled, unsure if she was apologizing to the Empress or to Lou Mi.
Lou Mi, her heart softening, stroked her head.
“What are you apologizing for? It’s not a big deal. Crying and apologizing for being kissed… makes me seem like a terrible person. Let’s just… forget about it. It wasn’t… supposed to happen.”
.
Chi Lin’s fever broke the next morning, but she had a persistent cough and runny nose.
She woke up early, but the cold air wasn’t good for her, so she practiced her exercises in the living room instead of the courtyard.
“You’re up early,” Lou Mi said, emerging from the bathroom as Chi Lin finished her exercises and set the table for breakfast.
“Good morning,” Chi Lin replied. “Your coffee and youtiao are ready. What fruit are you having today?”
“Anything is fine,” Lou Mi said. “How are you feeling? I could hear you coughing all the way from my room.”
“I’m fine. The system said the cough will last for a while.”
“We have cough syrup in the medicine cabinet. Take it after every meal.”
“Okay, thank you.”
“You should thank me. I gave you medicine last night, or you’d still have a fever.”
“You gave me medicine?”
“Who else? Guanyin Bodhisattva?”
Chi Lin smiled, and Lou Mi smiled back.
Peng Ziyuan and Lou Lixing, emerging from their room, saw their cheerful interaction and exchanged a knowing glance.
Wedding bells?
As they beamed at each other, Lou Mi, waiting for Chi Lin to go to the kitchen, whispered to her parents, “Don’t get your hopes up. It’s not happening.”
Peng Ziyuan: “?!”
Lou Mi: “We drank a potion of forgetfulness last night. We agreed to forget everything.”
“So no wedding?”
“Ask your daughter.”
“I can’t ask her.”
“…”
Lou Mi realized Chi Lin had somehow become the alpha in their little family pack.
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