Category: Can We Get Married First? 

Chapter 30

Lou Mi, her hair wrapped in a towel, entered the bedroom as Chi Lin emerged from the bathroom.

Right, this bedroom has an ensuite bathroom, Lou Mi remembered.

Chi Lin was wearing a loose-fitting, lotus-embroidered pajama set, clearly one of Grandma’s.

The old-fashioned style, combined with Chi Lin’s youthful appearance, created a strangely endearing contrast.

Her long hair was also wrapped in a towel.

“Doesn’t your scalp hurt when you tie your hair so tightly?” Lou Mi asked, a question she had been wanting to ask.

Chi Lin, accustomed to styling her own hair since childhood, had never experienced scalp pain.

“No,” she replied.

Lou Mi applied an eye mask, looking at her reflection in the mirror. “You might skip the pain and go straight to baldness.”

She had a few sets of pajamas at her grandparents’ house, but they were all summer clothes. The old apartment didn’t have climate control, and it was getting chilly in autumn.

She was glad she hadn’t brought any of her more revealing nightgowns. She would have frozen, and Chi Lin would have probably lectured her again.

“Baldness?” Chi Lin looked in the mirror, checking her hairline.

Her hair was thick and dark, though slightly damaged from years of dyeing and styling. She had been following the system’s recommended hair care regimen, and her hair was gradually recovering. There was no sign of baldness.

“You’re exaggerating again,” she said.

“You might not be bald now, but you will be eventually,” Lou Mi said, adjusting her eye mask. “Baldness is the enemy of modern youth. What would an ancient person like you know about it?”

Chi Lin nodded slowly, conceding the point.

Many things in this era were beyond her comprehension. In Dayuan, people worried about having too much hair, not too little.

Then, she paused, realizing what Lou Mi had just said.

“An ancient person like you?”

Lou Mi, applying lotion to her face, looked at Chi Lin through the mirror, a sly glint in her eyes. She had been observing Chi Lin’s reaction.

“What… what do you mean, ‘ancient person’?” Chi Lin asked, her throat suddenly dry.

Thankfully, the dim lighting concealed her pale face.

“What else would you be?” Lou Mi retorted, turning around. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed your secret training.”

“Secret training?”

“The martial arts, the sword dancing… You never did any of that before. You must have found some secret manual somewhere.”

Lou Mi, being considerate, didn’t mention the most disturbing incident she had witnessed at the library.

Chi Lin’s swift strike at Liu Huixin’s wrist.

It had been too fast for others to see, but not for Lou Mi.

She had clearly seen Liu Huixin’s subsequent spasms and contortions.

That move must have been from the secret manual.

Chi Lin’s mind raced.

So that’s what Lou Mi thought. She wasn’t suspecting time travel…

She had overestimated Lou Mi’s intelligence.

The tension in her temples eased, and she relaxed, sitting down on a chair near Lou Mi.

“Aren’t you afraid of me?” she asked.

“Afraid of you? Why would I be afraid of you?”

Chi Lin leaned closer to the lamp, her face illuminated in a dramatic, almost sinister light.

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll use my secret techniques on you?”

Lou Mi remembered Liu Huixin’s contorted face and shuddered. That would be humiliating.

Chi Lin deliberately deepened her frown, enhancing the effect.

“Would you do that to me?” Lou Mi asked directly.

“Maybe,” Chi Lin replied.

“No, you wouldn’t,” Lou Mi said, shaking her head, continuing her skincare routine. “You wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve been so nice to you. You wouldn’t betray me.”

Lou Mi’s words struck a chord. Chi Lin, realizing her secret was safe, Lou Mi’s suspicions based entirely on her own assumptions, smiled. She decided to stop teasing her.

“Don’t worry, I don’t have a secret manual. I just found some… fitness tips in Dad’s books.”

“Just the two of us here. Tell me the truth,” Lou Mi said. “What made you suddenly decide to… become a normal person?”

This was the question that had been plaguing her.

Chi Lin didn’t answer directly. “Do you… like the new me?”

Lou Mi hesitated, then said, “Yes. Much better than the old you. Please don’t revert.”

“That’s good,” Chi Lin said, then asked, “What if I did?”

“What’s with the hypothetical questions? You’re not a transformer,” Lou Mi retorted, clearly not wanting to answer.

As Chi Lin stood up, Lou Mi added softly, “I’d be… sad. And disappointed. We’re getting along now.”

Chi Lin wasn’t sure why she had asked.

She had already known the answer, and Lou Mi’s response confirmed her expectations, even exceeding them.

She had asked for reassurance, but the answer only made her feel more uneasy.

Perhaps inhabiting another’s body had affected her judgment.

Or maybe there was another reason.

The bed was smaller than the one at Lou Mi’s house.

At home, Chi Lin had a king-size bed. Here, she and Lou Mi had to share a smaller one.

Lou Mi tossed Chi Lin a blanket. “It rained last night. It’s going to be cold. Stay warm.”

“Thank you,” Chi Lin said.

“I’m a restless sleeper. Just a warning. Kick me if I steal your space. I won’t fight back.”

They got into bed. As they were about to turn off the lights, Lou Mi’s phone started ringing.

She groaned, getting out of bed to retrieve it.

It was cold. She shivered.

“A video conference?”

She felt even colder.

A video conference at this hour?

She knew ENIAC’s video conferences were always long and serious. She wouldn’t be able to escape for at least an hour.

By the time it ended, Chi Lin would be fast asleep…

Chi Lin, hearing the persistent ringing, peeked out from under the covers.

“Aren’t you going to answer?”

Lou Mi: “…”

She put on a jacket and resignedly answered the call, sitting at the vanity table and turning on the small lamp.

Nine people were in the conference, including Zhuo Jinglan, Xie Buyu, and two executives who were still connecting.

Lou Mi adjusted her hair and the camera angle, making sure it was pointed away from the bed and Chi Lin.

Everyone knew she was single. Having a girl in her room at this hour would be difficult to explain.

Especially with Xie Buyu’s sharp eyes and gossipy nature.

“They’re not here yet,” Xie Buyu said, yawning. Pagoda was looking down at her phone, and Hu Hu was sipping cola.

“Youth,” Xie Buyu commented. “Drinking soda at midnight. No fear of weight gain.”

“I wish I could gain weight,” Hu Hu muttered.

Pagoda, seemingly playing a mobile game, joined the pre-meeting banter without looking up.

“Hu Hu, you’re too skinny. But soda won’t help. You should go to the gym.”

“Pagoda, you’re so serious,” Xie Buyu said. “He was just kidding.”

Zhuo Jinglan yawned, and Xie Buyu mirrored her.

“Hey, when did Mi-jie join? So stealthy. Not like you.”

“Should I have made a grand entrance?” Lou Mi retorted.

“You usually have a witty comeback for everything I say. So quiet tonight. Hiding something from us?”

Lou Mi hated Xie Buyu’s sharp wit.

How did she always guess correctly?

…Well, not entirely correctly. She wasn’t exactly “hiding” anything. Just half-hiding.

“Focus on the meeting,” she said sternly.

“The meeting hasn’t even started yet,” Xie Buyu said. Her at-home appearance was even more disheveled than usual, her hair a mess, her thick glasses magnifying her tired eyes. Lou Mi had suggested laser eye surgery, but she was too lazy.

The executives were still connecting. “They’re probably intimidated by your… appearance,” Lou Mi teased.

That’s the Mi-jie we know.

Xie Buyu, not to be outdone, retorted, “Were you having a tender moment with your little sister? Annoyed that we interrupted?”

Lou Mi had forgotten to put on her headphones, assuming the meeting would be serious and quiet, not wanting to disturb Chi Lin.

She hadn’t anticipated Xie Buyu’s antics.

Even at low volume, in the quiet bedroom, Chi Lin would hear everything if she was awake.

Chi Lin shifted under the covers, as if turning over.

Lou Mi’s head throbbed.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” she warned Xie Buyu.

Xie Buyu, enjoying her rare victory over Lou Mi, pressed further.

“Isn’t your sister a good masseuse? Did she give you a massage tonight?”

The other team members, all single women, dragged into a late-night meeting, joined the teasing.

Pagoda chuckled. “Buyu, you’re teasing Mi-jie again.”

Lou Mi, relieved by Pagoda’s intervention, felt a flicker of gratitude.

Then Pagoda said, “Mi-jie has a secret crush. Don’t embarrass her.”

Lou Mi almost choked. Secret crush? Who are you, Cupid?

Xie Buyu, surprised by Pagoda’s unexpected assist, played along.

“You’re right. It’s rare for Mi-jie to be interested in a girl. We should be supportive, not teasing. Let’s nurture her first love.”

Hu Hu: “So… Mi-jie is really experiencing her first love?”

Xie Buyu: “Of course.”

Hu Hu: “I thought you were joking.”

Pagoda: “You underestimate Mi-jie’s purity.”

Xie Buyu: “She even organized a library team-building activity for her crush. Who else would do something so innocent?”

Hu Hu: “Good point.”

From the darkened side of the room, a faint cough could be heard.

Lou Mi wanted to strangle them all.

“Are you done?!” she growled. “I’m trying to sleep!”

As she spoke, the executives finally connected, hearing her outburst.

“Ahem, sorry for the late meeting,” one of them said. “It’ll be quick. Ten minutes, tops.”

Everyone at ENIAC feared Lou Mi. She was their queen.

They had to appease her.

Lou Mi felt a wave of exhaustion.

Why bother recruiting new members and building team spirit? I want to disband this team five hundred times a day.

…

The meeting ended after an hour and fifteen minutes. Lou Mi collapsed into bed, regardless of whether Chi Lin was asleep or not.

Her body ached. She made a mental note to clean the exercise equipment in the home gym and resume her workouts.

She had been neglecting her physical fitness lately.

Did Chi Lin even exercise? Tenth grade didn’t have PE, did it…?

Thinking of Chi Lin, she glanced at her, seeing the back of her head.

She hadn’t even taken down her bun? And she was sleeping on her side.

Even without seeing her full body, Lou Mi could sense her rigid posture. How could she sleep comfortably like that?

Had she heard Xie Buyu’s teasing…

Regardless, she would explain everything in the morning.

She couldn’t let Chi Lin misunderstand.

This night had been a disaster.

First the indirect kiss, now the rumors.

She wasn’t a frivolous person!

She was a virtuous individual!

She had no memory of how she fell asleep, only a vague sensation of coldness. The blanket was too thin.

The next morning, before even opening her eyes, she felt something warm and comforting in her arms.

The warm object, however, seemed to be trying to escape.

“Don’t move,” she mumbled.

It stopped moving.

She snuggled closer, enjoying the warmth. It was Sunday. She had no obligations today. She could sleep in.

As she drifted back to consciousness, she realized the blanket wasn’t hers.

It was the pale yellow blanket she had given to Chi Lin. Why was it on her?

No, wait. She wasn’t under the blanket, she was in the blanket.

She knew she was a restless sleeper, but she hadn’t realized she could switch beds in her sleep.

“Lou Mi-jie,” a soft voice said from her arms.

Lou Mi’s heart skipped a beat. She looked down and saw Chi Lin’s face inches from hers.

“Awake?” Chi Lin asked.

Her expression was unreadable. Was she angry? Or something else?

Lou Mi’s shock was evident on her face.

She nodded dumbly.

“Then you can let go of me now.”

Chi Lin’s voice was cold. She was definitely angry.

So Lou Mi had gotten cold during the night, crawled into Chi Lin’s bed, and… cuddled her?

Lou Mi closed her eyes. This has to be a dream.

She opened her eyes. It wasn’t a dream.

Reality was often worse than a nightmare.

How could she possibly explain this?

Chapter 29

Lou Mi mentally screamed I’m innocent! five hundred times, the glass in her hand suddenly burning hot.

She wanted to put it in the kitchen, but the lipstick mark on the rim felt like incriminating evidence at a crime scene.

She grabbed a tissue and self-consciously wiped the rim clean, as if that would erase her guilt.

Even though it had been an accident, the embarrassment lingered.

Why didn’t Chi Lin say anything?! This is so humiliating!

But I drank it so fast… how could she have interrupted?

Lou Mi paced, berating herself and Chi Lin, until the blush finally subsided.

She had never dated before. A little embarrassment was normal.

If Xie Buyu and the others were here, they would have teased her mercilessly.

She had to explain to Chi Lin. It had been an accident.

Chi Lin was in the next room with Peng Ziyuan and Grandma, their voices muffled as they discussed school and grades.

Lou Mi eavesdropped from the hallway.

Grandma praised Chi Lin’s improvement on the midterm exam and asked about her study methods.

“Intelligence isn’t everything. All kids are smart these days. It’s about finding the right approach.”

Lou Mi heard Chi Lin say, “Sister has been tutoring me. She taught me some new methods. My improvement is all thanks to her.”

Peng Ziyuan beamed. “Did you thank your sister? She’s so busy. I can’t believe she found the time to tutor you.”

Grandma: “Mimi might seem harsh, but she’s a good girl. Always willing to help others.”

Lou Mi, overhearing their praise, felt a warm glow of pride, but also a twinge of annoyance.

Why is Grandma saying these things?

Chi Lin had only mentioned the tutoring, not the subsequent accusations of cheating.

Lou Mi had expected her to share the whole story, including Lou Mi’s defense of her and the confrontation with Ms. Hu.

But Chi Lin hadn’t mentioned it.

She probably didn’t want to worry her mother.

Peng Ziyuan’s love for her daughter was unconditional, rivaling even Lou Lixing’s doting affection.

If she knew about the accusations, she would be heartbroken.

“You two seem close,” Grandma said, reaching out to Chi Lin with a warm smile.

Chi Lin took her hand and sat beside her.

“She’s grown up. She’s more considerate now,” Grandma said, stroking Chi Lin’s hand. “Mimi was quite mischievous when she was younger.”

Lou Mi’s ears perked up. Why is Grandma telling embarrassing stories about me?

“What kind of mischief did Sister get into?” Chi Lin asked.

Lou Mi groaned internally. Why is she encouraging her? She wanted to rush in and gag her grandmother.

But Chi Lin’s sweet tone softened her heart. She couldn’t bring herself to interrupt their bonding moment.

She stood outside the door, eavesdropping.

“Mimi was a real handful in elementary school,” Grandma said, chuckling. “Always causing trouble, and the kind of trouble you wouldn’t even think of. One time, a girl in her class left half an orange on her desk. Mimi, for some reason, thought she didn’t want it anymore and started rolling it around on the floor with her foot. The girl came back, saw her orange squished, and burst into tears. The teacher scolded Mimi for a long time.”

Peng Ziyuan and Chi Lin laughed.

“She did things like that all the time,” Grandma continued. “The teachers were always scolding her, but she never learned her lesson.”

Grandma has a great memory, Lou Mi thought.

Or was it her own memory that was failing? She had no recollection of this incident.

As the laughter continued, Grandma shared another story. “She used to invite her friends over and play dress-up. Her mother had a lot of clothes, so she would open her closet and let her friends wear her dresses and pretend to be characters from games and cartoons. They would play shopkeepers, and Mimi would be the emperor. The house would be a mess. Expensive dresses draped over their heads, filming themselves with their phones. Her mother saw it all on the home surveillance system and grounded her.”

Peng Ziyuan’s laughter was slightly subdued this time.

The mention of Lou Mi’s deceased mother didn’t affect Lou Mi much.

It had been eight years. She had come to terms with it. But Peng Ziyuan might still be sensitive about it.

Grandma wasn’t one to speak carelessly…

Lou Mi realized her intention.

If they never mentioned Lou Mi’s mother, she would always be a barrier between Peng Ziyuan and Lou Lixing.

They had to talk about it to move on.

No one could take care of Lou Lixing forever, except Peng Ziyuan.

The past was the past. They had to look forward.

That must be what Grandma was thinking.

“And this one time,” Grandma continued, “Mimi and her friends wanted to get a gift for their teacher’s birthday. They decided to make a painting. But Mimi thought a regular painting was too boring. She wanted to use… unconventional colors. Guess what she did?”

“Don’t tell me…” Peng Ziyuan said, a horrified expression on her face.

“She took all of her mother’s lipsticks,” Grandma said, “and bragged to her friends about how many colors her mom had, how beautiful they were. She said her mom told her all women loved these colors, so the teacher would love a painting made with lipstick.”

“Did she actually do it?!” Peng Ziyuan gasped.

“She did. Her mother came home, saw the open closet, and knew something was wrong. All of her lipsticks, including a collection of vintage shades, were… destroyed. Not just used, but gouged and mangled.”

Peng Ziyuan and Chi Lin burst out laughing.

Chi Lin knew how important cosmetics were to women. Lou Mi’s audacity was astounding.

As the laughter filled the room, Grandma, wiping away tears of mirth, said, “Her mother chased her around the house for three years.”

“Three years?!” Peng Ziyuan asked, incredulous.

“Yes, three years. Because Mimi was so fast and agile, like a monkey, her mother could never catch her. And Mimi wouldn’t give her a chance to lecture her. They would chase each other around the house whenever they had a chance.”

Lou Mi, listening from the hallway, could hear the waves of laughter.

Well, at least I’m providing entertainment.

She didn’t notice Lou Lixing, who had been awakened by the noise, standing behind her.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

Lou Mi jumped, startled. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“I’ve been standing here for a while…”

Peng Ziyuan opened the door. “Oh, you’re awake?”

“What’s so funny?”

Peng Ziyuan turned to Grandma, who put a finger to her lips.

“It’s a secret,” she whispered.

You’re using my childhood embarrassments as bonding material? And it’s a secret? Have you considered my feelings?

Grandpa called everyone to the living room for fruit and tea.

“Stay here tonight,” he said, carrying a platter of fruit. “We have plenty of rooms.”

Lou Lixing hesitated, glancing at Peng Ziyuan and Chi Lin.

Peng Ziyuan remained silent, and Chi Lin didn’t say anything either.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you want to stay?” Grandpa asked.

“Of course, we’ll stay,” Lou Mi said. “I’m exhausted. I’ll pass out as soon as I hit the pillow. No way am I driving home tonight.”

Grandpa smiled. “Good. Have some fruit, and we’ll set up the beds later.”

“Sounds good!”

Grandpa turned on the TV, and they all relaxed in the living room, eating fruit and sipping tea.

Chi Lin, Peng Ziyuan, and Grandma sat on the large sofa. Lou Lixing and Grandpa discussed work at the tea table. Lou Mi lay on the massage chair, the backrest reclined almost flat, the gentle vibrations soothing her aching muscles.

She tried to use her phone, but the screen blurred with the chair’s movements.

She gave up and closed her eyes.

As she put down her phone, her gaze met Chi Lin’s.

Chi Lin, sitting at the edge of the sofa, looked at her intently, her expression unreadable.

Lou Mi narrowed her eyes.

Was that a look of accusation? About the indirect kiss?

So petty. It was indirect! Not even a real kiss…

But teenagers could be sensitive about such things.

And to maintain her image as the mature adult, she sat up, intending to drag Chi Lin to the balcony and explain herself.

As she sat up, she saw Chi Lin holding half an orange.

Lou Mi: “?”

Chi Lin: “Want to roll it on the floor?”

Lou Mi: “…”

Seeing Lou Mi’s dumbfounded expression, Chi Lin smiled triumphantly.

So she’s using my childhood embarrassment as a joke now?

Lou Mi made a mental note to punish her later.

The opportunity presented itself soon enough.

“Mimi, you and Xiao Lin can share a room tonight,” Lou Lixing said. “You can have the bigger room.”

Chi Lin’s face stiffened. She had assumed she would be sharing a room with Peng Ziyuan.

There weren’t enough rooms for everyone to have their own, and it wouldn’t be appropriate for Lou Lixing to share a room with his daughter, so naturally, he and Peng Ziyuan would share a room, leaving the two girls to share another.

In 2043, same-sex marriage had been legal for over a decade, and same-sex roommates were considered perfectly normal and safe.

Chi Lin didn’t want to share a bed with anyone other than the Empress.

But she couldn’t object…

She tried to appear nonchalant, careful not to arouse Lou Mi’s suspicions.

“You go ahead,” Lou Mi said, trying to sound casual. “I’ll be there after I take a shower.”

She immediately regretted her words.

Chi Lin: “…”

Damn it.

Lou Mi cringed internally. That sounded… suggestive.

Her ears burned.

Chi Lin, noticing her blush, sighed.

Young people. Not only do they drink irresponsibly, but they also have impure thoughts.

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.

Chapter 27

Lin Xiaozhi regretted her teasing. Wei Zhuoning’s usual tough exterior had made her curious about her vulnerable side. Now, with tears welling up in Wei Zhuoning’s eyes, she felt a pang of guilt. She hadn’t meant to upset her so much. Her comment, intended to be playful, had clearly struck a nerve.

Seeing the tears streaming down Wei Zhuoning’s face, Lin Xiaozhi panicked. The other students in detention were starting to stare. Thankfully, they were sitting in a secluded corner, and Wei Zhuoning’s head was bowed low.

Lin Xiaozhi offered a tissue.

“I have my own,” Wei Zhuoning said, her voice trembling as she roughly wiped her tears, her hand moving so forcefully that she nearly rubbed the skin off her eyelids.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Lin Xiaozhi said, gently taking her hand and wiping away the remaining tears.

Wei Zhuoning, surprised by her unexpected gentleness, asked again, “Why are you here?”

To see you cry, of course, Lin Xiaozhi thought, but she couldn’t say that. Smiling sweetly, she cupped her hand around Wei Zhuoning’s ear and whispered, “I was worried about you. I wanted to stay and keep you company.”

Wei Zhuoning pulled away, pretending to be busy. “There’s nothing to worry about. It’s just detention. You can go.”

Just then, the math teacher arrived, checking attendance. He noticed Lin Xiaozhi.

“Why are you still here?”

“Sir, Wei Zhuoning didn’t do well on the exam. As class president, I’m worried about her. Can I stay and keep her company?”

“Of course,” the teacher said, pleased. “Having such a caring class president is a blessing for Class Six.”

Lin Xiaozhi’s plan had worked flawlessly.

“Teachers are so biased,” Wei Zhuoning muttered. “If it were a bad student, he would have kicked us out.”

“Being a good student has its perks,” Lin Xiaozhi said, smiling. “Want to try it sometime?”

Wei Zhuoning shook her head. “I can’t. I’m not capable of it.”

Lin Xiaozhi took her hand, their fingers interlacing. “You can’t do it alone. But now, you have me.”

…

Thirteen students from Class Six, the most from any class, had been kept for detention, all having scored below fifty on the math quiz.

The math teacher, though not prone to yelling, was a master of long, drawn-out lectures. He spent half an hour reviewing the quiz, then proceeded to deliver a motivational speech that lasted until well after dark.

When they were finally released, Wei Zhuoning was starving.

“Dinner’s on me. What do you want?” Lin Xiaozhi asked, walking behind her, playing with her hair. Wei Zhuoning’s hair, slightly overgrown and unruly, with its thick bangs and natural curls, often bounced around her face, earning her the nickname “flowerpot head” from Lin Xiaozhi.

“Stop it!” Wei Zhuoning said, turning around. “And I’m not letting you pay.”

“I made you cry. I’m making amends.”

“Don’t mention that again!” Wei Zhuoning said, her voice rising. “And I wasn’t crying because of you!”

“Because of someone else, then?” Lin Xiaozhi asked, her face falling. “I misunderstood. I was being presumptuous.”

Despite knowing Lin Xiaozhi’s manipulative tendencies, Wei Zhuoning couldn’t tell if she was genuinely hurt or just pretending.

“Don’t say that…” Wei Zhuoning said, fidgeting with her backpack straps. “I was… angry at myself.”

“Angry at yourself? For what?” Lin Xiaozhi asked, easily catching up.

“For… letting my emotions get the better of me…” Wei Zhuoning’s voice was barely a whisper. She avoided eye contact.

She actually admitted it, Lin Xiaozhi thought, amused. So easy to manipulate.

She put her arm around Wei Zhuoning’s shoulders. “I’m really worried about you, Zhuoning.”

“Worried about what?! And don’t touch me! And stop calling me that! It’s creepy!”

Lin Xiaozhi tightened her grip, ignoring her protests. “With your personality… when you go to college, when you enter the real world… what if you meet someone bad? You’ll be taken advantage of.”

“Is there anyone worse than you?”

Lin Xiaozhi, pleased by the implied compliment, considered this for a moment. “Probably not.”

“You’re self-aware, at least.”

“But what if there is? Want to consider marrying me? It would save you a lot of trouble.”

“Save me trouble? Or lead me straight into your trap?”

They both laughed, the sound echoing in the empty hallway.

Wei Zhuoning stopped struggling. She knew from experience that once Lin Xiaozhi latched onto someone, it was impossible to shake her off. She might as well let her hug her.

They walked down the stairs instead of taking the elevator, their conversation continuing in hushed tones.

On the fourth floor, they heard voices.

Wei Zhuoning pulled away from Lin Xiaozhi.

“Why are you so nervous? We weren’t doing anything,” Lin Xiaozhi said.

“Shhh,” Wei Zhuoning whispered, hearing Chi Lin’s name mentioned.

…

“I got the pictures, but they’re blurry.”

“What do you expect? Over a hundred meters away, in the pouring rain, through a car window? This is the best I could do.”

“But we can’t see the ‘dry sister’s’ face.”

“We can see Chi Lin’s face. That’s what matters. As long as we can identify her, it’s proof!”

“You’re right.”

“That’ll show those people who defended her on the forum. Let’s see what they say now.”

…

Wei Zhuoning and Lin Xiaozhi, a floor below, had only heard snippets of the conversation. The two people continued talking as they walked towards the elevators.

“People are taking pictures of us at school? Are those the anonymous posters on the forum?” Wei Zhuoning asked.

“I don’t really use the school forum,” Lin Xiaozhi replied.

Wei Zhuoning, recalling the numerous gossip threads about her and Tan Luo, thought, She probably avoids it to protect her sanity.

“Those voices sound familiar,” Wei Zhuoning said. “Have we heard them before?”

“You can’t even recognize your own classmates?”

“What?!”

“Xu Yifang and Jiao Minxuan.”

“Holy crap, you’re right!”

Lin Xiaozhi looked at her with amusement.

“So… they took pictures of Chi Lin and her ‘dry sister’? Seriously?”

“They’re probably exaggerating. Chi Lin’s family situation is complicated. She has a sister, but it’s not a ‘dry sister’ relationship. Probably a stepsister or something.”

Wei Zhuoning, remembering seeing Chi Lin getting out of a luxury car with a beautiful woman, described the incident to Lin Xiaozhi, hoping for some insight.

“Was she prettier than me?” Lin Xiaozhi asked.

What a strange question…

…

Lou Mi and Chi Lin arrived at their grandparents’ house before Lou Lixing and Peng Ziyuan. The apartment complex was old, built in the early 2000s.

As they walked towards the elevator, Lou Mi said, “Remember what you did last time you were here? My grandparents might be forgiving, but they haven’t forgotten. Behave yourself. Don’t embarrass your mother.”

Chi Lin had no memory of the incident, having arrived in this era afterward. But the original Chi Lin had bragged about swapping her father’s gift of fresh fish with the grandparents’ pet fish, causing chaos in their aquarium. Lou Mi had nearly throttled her. ”If everyone hates me, I’ll give them a reason to hate me even more,” the original Chi Lin had declared.

At the door, Lou Mi, sensing Chi Lin’s nervousness, said, “Don’t worry. It’s just dinner. If you’re feeling anxious, you don’t have to talk. I’ll find you a book. You can just read quietly.”

“Is it appropriate to read during a family birthday dinner?” Chi Lin asked.

She actually wants to participate? “Just don’t give my grandparents another heart attack, and you can do whatever you want.”

Chi Lin had always been good with older people. She was confident she could charm Lou Mi’s grandparents.

“Coming!”

The door opened, revealing a plump, white-haired woman with a cheerful smile.

“Grandma! I missed you so much!” Lou Mi hugged her and kissed her cheek.

Chi Lin was surprised. You can… kiss your grandmother?

“Mimi, have you lost weight? Let me see you.” Her grandmother held her hands, examining her face. “Are you still not sleeping well?”

“I’m sleeping great! Look, my face is even rounder now.”

“Don’t lie to your old grandma. You’re all skin and bones. Take care of yourself, dear. Don’t work too hard.”

Then, noticing Chi Lin, she asked, “Is this your friend? Here for your grandpa’s birthday?”

Lou Mi burst out laughing. “You were doing so well, and then you messed up. Look closely. Does she look like my friend?”

Her grandmother, recognizing Chi Lin, gasped. “Is that… Xiao Chi Lin?”

Chi Lin bowed respectfully, presenting her gift. “Good evening, Grandma. A birthday gift for Grandpa.”

Her grandmother, still stunned, accepted the gift. Her grandfather, holding a spatula, emerged from the kitchen. “You’re here! Come in, come in!”

Chi Lin performed a formal greeting and then recited a birthday poem in a clear, resonant voice:

“May your jade-green tree of life flourish for a thousand years, your steps firm and steady through the ages. May your moonlit pond bloom with lotus flowers, your fishing line cast long shadows under the sun and moon. Happy birthday, Grandpa!”

Her grandfather, taken aback by her eloquent greeting, stared at her, speechless. Her grandmother was equally stunned. They stood frozen in the doorway like two statues.

Silence.

Did I overdo it? Chi Lin wondered. She had refrained from the traditional kowtow, opting for a simple bow and a poem, assuming it would be appreciated in this era of literary appreciation and televised poetry contests.

Lou Mi, clutching the doorframe, was struggling to contain her laughter. Her grandfather, finally recovering, thanked Chi Lin and invited them in.

“She’s grown up so much… so mature… even writing poetry now…” her grandmother said, leading Chi Lin inside. Her grandfather returned to the kitchen.

Lou Mi closed the door and called out, “Grandpa, why are you cooking? Is the kitchen AI broken?”

“It’s not broken,” he replied. “But I wanted to make something myself. It tastes better, more… human.”

“Be careful not to inhale too much smoke,” Lou Mi said.

“That’s how we did things in my time. Everyone cooked their own meals. Not like you youngsters, relying on robots.”

Lou Mi chatted with her grandfather for a while, then went to the living room and messaged her father.

“Where are you two? Grandpa’s cooking. Don’t make the birthday boy wait.”

“We’re almost there! Just getting out of the car!” her father replied instantly.

Lou Mi looked up from her phone and saw Chi Lin and her grandmother standing face-to-face in the living room, their expressions tense.

What happened?! She had only been gone for a few minutes! How did they manage to start a fight already? They seemed fine earlier. That little brat…

Just as she was about to intervene, they began circling each other, their voices rising in a rhythmic exchange of… operatic singing!

Lou Mi nearly tripped. They’re not fighting… they’re singing opera?!

Their voices, strong and clear, filled the room, their performance growing more animated with each line.

Lou Lixing and Peng Ziyuan, arriving with their arms full of shopping bags, heard the singing. It sounded live, not like a recording.

“Did Dad hire some opera singers for his birthday?” Lou Lixing asked.

Entering the apartment, they saw not professional singers, but their father, having finished cooking, joining Chi Lin and his wife in a full-blown opera performance, his booming voice nearly shaking the walls. Chi Lin matched their every note, drawing enthusiastic applause from her grandparents.

Lou Mi sat on the side, playing the erhu, a two-stringed instrument her grandfather had forced her to learn as a child, her face expressionless.

“You’re here! Sit down and enjoy the show,” she said to her parents.

They stared, speechless.

“Since when does Xiao Lin know how to sing opera?” Peng Ziyuan asked. And such a rare and obscure opera, at that. As her mother, she should know, but she didn’t. Chi Lin had always been tone-deaf, her singing a constant source of amusement and occasional ear pain.

Chapter 26

Chi Lin, refreshed from her meditation, returned to the house to find breakfast ready, thanks to Peng Ziyuan and “Sir.”

After breakfast, Peng Ziyuan offered to drive Chi Lin to school, but Chi Lin declined.

“I’ll take a taxi.”

On the way to school, she checked her phone. Several WeChat messages awaited her.

Two from Lin Xiaozhi, sent around 8 pm last night, with completed homework attached. “Standard answers. Copy away.”

This class president is… interesting…

And a flurry of messages from the Class Six group chat, always buzzing with activity, uninhibited by Ms. Qi’s presence. Chi Lin, determined to integrate into this era, diligently read every message, no matter how trivial, hoping to blend in seamlessly and avoid any communication barriers with the Empress’s reincarnation.

As she scrolled through the messages, still pondering her next move in her search, she saw her name mentioned.

“…talking about Chi Lin?”

She paused, scrolling back. Her classmates were discussing a new trending post on the school forum.

Title: Someone’s “Dry Sister” Finally Revealed!

Chi Lin opened the forum. The anonymous post, lacking any pictures, contained a single line of text, punctuated by numerous exclamation points:

“I saw someone from Class Six, Grade Two, and her ‘dry sister’ at Convergence Mall today! The ‘dry sister’ bought her so much stuff, she couldn’t even carry it all! And they were hugging! cl, are you being kept? Have you no shame?!”

Replies:

Teng Jiang, Class One, Grade Two: “Someone’s excited. Why anonymous? Too scared to show your face?”
Peach Blossom Pool [Admin]: “I can write a hundred of these baseless accusations in a minute. Post proof within thirty minutes, or the post will be deleted, and your IP address blocked.”
On the Path to Success: “They’re talking about Chi Lin. ‘cl.’ It’s obvious. Any proof? You know what I mean.”
Teng Jiang, Class One, Grade Two: “Clearly not. Otherwise, they would have posted it.”
Wei Zhuoning, Class Six, Grade Two: “Stop wasting everyone’s time! I know who you are, even if you’re anonymous!”

…

Hasn’t lhx learned her lesson? Chi Lin thought, closing the forum. Such childish games were a waste of her time. She logged into the digital archive, resuming her search for clues about the Yuan Dynasty.

She quickly forgot about the forum post, her mind preoccupied with her studies and her search for the Empress. The National Teacher’s Soul-Chasing Secret Art had not only placed her in the body of someone with the same name but also someone with a reputation for academic failure, a convenient disguise. She could have ignored her studies entirely, her failing grades easily dismissed as typical for a “bad student.” But she wanted to understand this world, believing that knowledge would aid her search. And she was too proud to accept failure in any aspect of her life.

Her days were filled with activity, from studying to researching, keeping “Sir” busy with her endless questions. She slept no more than five hours a night, aided by this era’s readily available caffeine, a far more effective and less painful method of staying awake than the ancient practices of tying one’s hair to a beam or pricking one’s thighs with needles. Besides coffee, there were also energy drinks and pills, reminding her of the stimulants used by scholars in Dayuan, often with detrimental side effects. She stuck to coffee.

Lou Mi, however, seemed to rely on these stimulants. Her car and her room were filled with various pills and potions. Chi Lin, initially unaware of their purpose, had used her phone to scan the labels, discovering a variety of energy boosters and cognitive enhancers.

Lou Lixing and Peng Ziyuan were early risers, dedicating their lives to their work. Chi Lin was a night owl, maximizing every minute of her day. Lou Mi’s sleep schedule was erratic, sleeping whenever she could. Sometimes, she would be going to bed as they were waking up, and vice versa. Due to her demanding career, they often communicated only through WeChat, even while living under the same roof.

One weekend, while having breakfast alone, Chi Lin found a nearly empty pill bottle under the table. How did this get here? She recognized the green bottle.

Lou Mi emerged from her room, her hair messy, her eyes puffy from lack of sleep. As she rounded the corner, the bright sunlight made her wince, and she turned away.

Chi Lin immediately instructed “Sir” to tint the windows.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “Sorry, I didn’t see you coming.”

Lou Mi waved her hand dismissively and began wandering around the living room, pausing at the TV cabinet, staring at it blankly, then heading towards her bedroom, stopping midway, as if lost in thought, her brow furrowed.

Chi Lin approached her, holding the pill bottle. “Are you looking for this?”

Seeing the bottle, Lou Mi’s expression changed. Before Chi Lin could react, she lunged forward, pinning her against the wall, snatching the bottle.

Chi Lin, startled, instinctively raised her arm in a defensive posture.

Lou Mi held her wrist against the wall, the pill bottle clutched in her other hand, trapping Chi Lin within her arms. Her expression, initially fierce, softened as she looked at Chi Lin’s face.

“Sorry…” she mumbled, noticing the dent in the bottle from her tight grip. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Chi Lin, sensing her distress, shook her head. “I’m fine.”

Lou Mi’s forehead was damp with sweat. She forced a smile, realizing she was still holding Chi Lin’s wrist. She tried to let go, but her body felt stiff and unresponsive.

Chi Lin, noticing her discomfort, released her wrist and began massaging Lou Mi’s arm and shoulder, easing the tension.

“Come, sit down,” she said, leading Lou Mi to the sofa, pouring her a glass of water, and opening the pill bottle. “Now?”

Lou Mi nodded.

Following the instructions on the label, Chi Lin poured out two pills. Lou Mi swallowed them with water, closed her eyes for a moment, and then sighed, the tension leaving her body.

When she opened her eyes, Chi Lin was still there, holding another glass of water.

“More?”

Lou Mi took the glass. “Thanks. Don’t worry. I’m just… a bit stressed, not crazy.”

“I wasn’t worried.”

Lou Mi glanced at Chi Lin’s reddened wrist, feeling a pang of guilt. “Does it hurt? Let me see.”

Chi Lin flexed her wrist, smiling. “It’s fine. You’re not that strong.”

“If I could break your wrist with one hand, I’d be terrifying…”

Looking at Lou Mi’s pale face, Chi Lin asked, “Are those… neuron stimulants?”

“Wow, you can read those complicated English words now? Impressive.”

“I used my phone.”

“Right. Of course.”

“It also says these pills have side effects… potentially accelerating neuron cell death.” While unfamiliar with the term “neuron cell,” she understood it was related to the brain, and “death” was never a good sign.

Lou Mi, however, maintained a casual tone. “Every medicine has side effects. Why focus on the negative? They have benefits too.”

Chi Lin, knowing nothing about modern medicine, wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth. Pressing the issue further seemed intrusive.

“So you were looking for this when you came out of your room?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Yes,” Lou Mi said, checking the pills for damage. She had clearly been searching for something, her eyes unfocused, lost in thought.

“Don’t worry, I’m perfectly healthy. Where are the others?”

“They left for work,” Chi Lin replied.

“Working on a weekend? Why bother with excuses? Just admit they went on a date.” She looked at Chi Lin. “So, do you still… mind?”

Chi Lin understood. The original Chi Lin had resented Peng Ziyuan’s new relationship. But it wasn’t Chi Lin’s place to comment on such a sensitive matter. She remained silent.

Lou Mi, assuming Chi Lin’s recent changes indicated acceptance, didn’t press further. Everyone has their own burdens, she thought.

She went to her room and ate a quick breakfast. Her desk was a mess of monitors, gaming keyboards, holographic gear, strategy maps, and notepads. But one corner remained meticulously clean and organized, displaying two framed photos: a family portrait from her high school days, taken shortly before her mother’s death, showing a younger Lou Mi, flanked by her smiling parents, and a photo of the Nine Heavens team receiving their first championship trophy two years ago, confetti raining down, Futu crying tears of joy, Xie Buyu comforting and teasing her, Xiao V spraying champagne, and A Bao, standing in the corner, looking at Lou Mi.

Her mother and the Nine Heavens team… She had lost both.

She sat at her desk, lost in thought.

The neuron stimulants, as their name suggested, temporarily boosted brain function, enhancing reaction time and cognitive abilities. They weren’t illegal, but they weren’t exactly beneficial either. She had been taking them for six months, discovering that they not only provided the advertised boost but also alleviated her forgetfulness. After each dose, she would remember small, seemingly insignificant details from years past, things she thought she had forgotten. The increasing forgetfulness terrified her. After the second round of treatment, her headaches had improved, but her memory had worsened. This morning, she had been searching for something in the living room, a clear intention in her mind, but after taking a few steps, a fleeting thought had distracted her, and she had completely forgotten what she was looking for. Even the distracting thought was now lost. She didn’t even remember how she had gotten home from the club last night. She couldn’t tell Dr. Bai about the stimulants, unsure if they were exacerbating her memory problems. But without them, she feared a rapid decline into Alzheimer’s. Four years ago, holographic gaming syndrome, along with family history, thyroid problems, head trauma, and viral infections, had been identified as a significant risk factor for early-onset Alzheimer’s. Holographic gaming relied heavily on neuronal activity, and Lou Mi had spent more time in virtual reality than in real life since she was sixteen. If not for the debilitating symptoms of holographic gaming syndrome, she would have continued. Last year, three female professional esports players, all around twenty-four years old, had been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s. The oldest, a twenty-six-year-old Russian player, had died in the spring. A recent medical journal article had suggested that professional esports players might redefine Alzheimer’s. Lou Mi knew she might be one of them.

She didn’t want to forget. If she forgot her passion, her mother, herself… who would remember for her?

She didn’t log into the game or go to the club. She left the stimulants on her desk and went to bed.

She woke up to daylight, having slept for an entire day. It was 6:50 am on Monday. Her head throbbed slightly. Her PT index was 4.9, several times higher than normal, yet it felt like a minor ache. She had grown accustomed to the pain.

Her car was at the mechanic’s. It was raining outside. Groggy from sleep, she sent a message to Lan Jie, saying she would come to the club tomorrow. She planned to spend the day relaxing at home, watching movies and TV shows.

Just then, a message from Lou Lixing arrived, asking her to pick up Chi Lin after school and take her to their parents’ house for dinner. It was their grandfather’s birthday.

“Can we go another day?” Lou Mi replied.

“Can Grandpa have his birthday another day?”

His birthday… I completely forgot. She needed to start using her phone’s reminder app, with alarms. She could forget anything else, but not her grandparents’ birthdays. She had been very close to them, having lunch at their house every day during elementary school, when her grandparents, newly retired, had showered her with love and home-cooked meals. They had never forgotten her birthday. She couldn’t be so ungrateful.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?! I haven’t gotten him a present!”

“Don’t worry, dear. You’re busy. It’s understandable. I got you both presents. They’re in the closet. Just bring them with you when you pick up Xiao Lin.”

Such a thoughtful dad… She would be nice to him for the next few days.

Excited about seeing her grandparents, she took a long bath, listened to music, and watched a movie, giving her brain a much-needed break from holographic entertainment.

Calculating Chi Lin’s dismissal time, she grabbed the presents and took a taxi to the school.

Classes had run late. Chi Lin was finally released at 6:30 pm. She checked her phone. Lou Mi was waiting for her at the taxi stand on the east side of the school. Peng Ziyuan had already told her about the birthday dinner. Lou Mi’s message had been sent forty-five minutes ago. She’s been waiting in the rain for that long?

She quickly gathered her things.

“Plans tonight?” Lin Xiaozhi asked, noticing her haste.

“Birthday dinner at my grandparents’ house,” Chi Lin replied.

“Don’t put too many candles on the cake. You’ll start a fire,” Lin Xiaozhi said, her usual playful self.

Chi Lin, amused by her quirky humor, thought, Why is she standing so close?

Unaware of the intense gaze directed at them from behind, Chi Lin continued packing.

Wei Zhuoning, watching them whisper, felt her motivation drain away. She had been reviewing her mistakes from the math quiz, but now, she felt a wave of despair. Even Chi Lin had scored sixty points, while she had barely managed thirty… The looming college entrance exam filled her with dread. Am I doomed?

As Chi Lin left the building, the rain intensified, the wind whipping her umbrella. She reached the taxi stand, only to find a row of identical vehicles, all waiting for passengers. The heavy rain obscured the view through the windows. She couldn’t tell which car was Lou Mi’s. She should have sent me the license plate number…

She circled the cars, then, trying to send a message, nearly lost her umbrella to the wind.

Lin Xiaozhi, sitting next to Wei Zhuoning’s empty desk, had planned to tease her, but seeing the tears in her eyes, she paused. Wei Zhuoning quickly lowered her head.

Lin Xiaozhi bit her knuckle, a habit when she was excited. Even with Wei Zhuoning’s head down, she could see her wet eyelashes. I went too far. I made her cry.

“Why aren’t you gone yet?” Wei Zhuoning asked, her voice stiff, without looking up. “Did you fail the math quiz too?”

“One hundred thirty-nine. Highest in the class. Top ten in the grade,” Lin Xiaozhi replied.

“So you’re here to gloat.”

Lin Xiaozhi rested her head on her arms, looking at Wei Zhuoning’s tearful, yet defiant, eyes.

“Hey, no staring!”

Lin Xiaozhi, unafraid of her outburst, said softly, “I’m not here to gloat. Really.”

Is she here to help me study? Is she that nice? Wei Zhuoning wondered.

“I just wanted to see what you look like when you cry,” Lin Xiaozhi continued.

The wind and rain intensified. Chi Lin struggled with her umbrella, trying to turn it right-side up. Just as she was about to give up, a large umbrella appeared above her, shielding her from the rain. A slender arm reached around her, helping her close her broken umbrella. She felt a soft pressure against her back, a familiar scent cutting through the smell of rain.

She turned and looked up. Lou Mi’s brown hair, slightly disheveled by the wind, framed her face. Her mask was pulled down to her chin, revealing her features. Her protective stance was almost like an embrace.

“I thought you didn’t have an umbrella,” she said, opening the car door for Chi Lin.

Chi Lin got in, and Lou Mi took her umbrella, closing it with one hand while holding her own umbrella with the other. She got into the driver’s seat, water dripping from her hair.

“You’re soaked.”

“I’ll survive. There are two presents in the back, from my dad. One for you, one for me. It’s my grandpa’s birthday. We can’t show up empty-handed. Choose one.”

“Anything is fine…”

“I knew you’d say that. The big one is fishing gear. The small one is opera tickets. Pretend you bought them. My grandpa loves opera.”

“Okay.”

Lou Mi set the destination and glanced at Chi Lin, still in her school uniform, her face flushed.

“Did you catch a cold already? Your face is red.”

“It’s… warm in the car…” She couldn’t possibly admit that the close contact had reminded her of the… accuracy of the nickname “Big Mimi.”

Lou Mi touched her forehead. “You don’t seem to have a fever. Tell me if you feel unwell.”

“Okay…” Chi Lin’s blush deepened as Lou Mi’s hand lingered. She turned to look out the window, avoiding eye contact for the rest of the ride.

Chapter 25

The shopping spree continued. Lou Lixing, his hands full of shopping bags, struggled to keep up. Chi Lin offered to help.

“No, no, you girls enjoy yourselves,” he said, beaming.

Chi Lin insisted, and they ended up having a tug-of-war over the bags.

Lou Mi, exasperated by their antics, grabbed a few bags and said to Lou Lixing, “Give her some. Can’t you see she’s… determined? Don’t make a scene in public.” She almost slipped and called Chi Lin “little brat.”

Peng Ziyuan also took some bags. Lou Lixing, finally relenting, gave Chi Lin the two lightest bags. “Alright, alright,” he said to Lou Mi. “Whatever you say.”

In the Lou family, Lou Mi had always been in charge, especially after her mother’s death. Lou Lixing, around her, was more of a doting companion than an authoritative father.

Peng Ziyuan stopped in front of a store filled with frilly, princess-style dresses, her eyes sparkling.

Chi Lin thought those dresses were more suitable for junior high students. Did Peng Ziyuan actually like them?

“Do you think these dresses are pretty?” Peng Ziyuan asked excitedly.

Chi Lin’s eyes were assaulted by a barrage of pink, baby blue, and Barbie pink.

But Peng Ziyuan had been so generous tonight. She couldn’t dampen her enthusiasm.

“They’re pretty,” she said.

“Let’s go inside!”

Lou Lixing, noticing a store selling health products for seniors across the aisle, said to Peng Ziyuan, “Let’s get something for Mimi’s grandparents. We’ll meet up later.”

“Okay!”

Inside the store, Peng Ziyuan picked up a dress and held it against Chi Lin.

“Beautiful! It’s perfect for you!”

“Wait,” Chi Lin said, alarmed. “Aren’t you choosing a dress for yourself?”

Peng Ziyuan giggled. “I’m too old for these dresses. I’ve always wanted to see you in a cute dress, but you always refused…”

Chi Lin stared at the pink, frilly dress with a giant bow, her heart sinking.

“I still don’t…”

Peng Ziyuan put on a pleading expression. “Please?”

“Who’s the mother here?” Chi Lin muttered.

Unable to resist her mother’s puppy-dog eyes, Chi Lin relented.

Dress after dress, Chi Lin transformed into a living doll.

Peng Ziyuan even put her hair in pigtails.

Chi Lin stood before the mirror, her face expressionless, her soul having departed her body.

If the people of Dayuan could see their fearless General Chi, dressed in a frilly pink dress, being praised for her cuteness, they would be horrified.

Your Majesty, please save me…

After choosing five dresses, all in varying shades of pink and adorned with bows and frills, Peng Ziyuan, finally satisfied, led Chi Lin out of the store, her arm around Chi Lin’s shoulder.

“Hey… isn’t that someone from our school?”

Two girls from South Lake Third High had spotted them.

They were Liu Huixin’s friends, the ones who had gossiped about Chi Lin at the Cultural Festival and had been reprimanded by Lou Mi.

Xu Yifang, the taller one with long hair, and Jiao Minxuan, the shorter one with short hair, recognized the school uniform.

They quickly realized it was Chi Lin.

“It’s Chi Lin…”

“Why do we always run into her? So annoying.”

“Who’s that with her? She’s hugging her. Is that…?”

They both said simultaneously, “The sworn sister!”

They had been curious about Chi Lin’s “sworn sister,” eager to meet the person Liu Huixin had described.

Liu Huixin had been acting strangely lately, ever since her seat change. She had become quiet and withdrawn.

Without Liu Huixin’s gossip, Xu Yifang and Jiao Minxuan were bored.

And now, they had stumbled upon a potential scandal.

Chi Lin and her “sworn sister” walked quickly. Xu Yifang and Jiao Minxuan, eager to see the woman’s face, followed them.

They caught a glimpse of her profile. She looked like she was in her thirties… more like an aunt than a sister.

“Wow, that’s quite an age gap.”

“And look, she’s hugging her. This ‘sworn sister’ is probably a ‘sugar mommy.’”

“She just pinched her cheek!”

“OMG, PDA! I’m posting this on the forum!”

“Idiot, take pictures first! We need proof! Pictures!”

“Right!”

As they were about to take pictures, Chi Lin and Peng Ziyuan turned a corner and disappeared.

They followed, but Chi Lin and Peng Ziyuan had entered the elevator, about to turn around.

If they turned, they would be face to face!

Jiao Minxuan grabbed Xu Yifang, pulling her back behind a wall.

“Almost got caught…” Xu Yifang said, her heart pounding.

“Did you get any pictures?!”

“No…”

Jiao Minxuan groaned. “You’re so useless!”

“You didn’t get any either,” Xu Yifang retorted.

Chi Lin and Peng Ziyuan met up with Lou Mi and Lou Lixing, and they all went down to the parking garage.

Lou Lixing and Lou Mi had both driven. Chi Lin wasn’t sure whose car to get into.

“Chi Lin?” Lou Mi called out, standing by her car, the ring on her finger glinting in the light.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked. “Don’t you want to be a third wheel?”

Peng Ziyuan, used to Lou Mi’s bluntness, said to Chi Lin, “You can ride with whoever you want.”

Chi Lin was more comfortable with Lou Mi.

And honestly, Peng Ziyuan was a bit scary.

“What’s wrong?” Lou Mi teased. “Too much motherly love? Shell-shocked?”

She had noticed Chi Lin’s apprehension throughout the evening.

Chi Lin wanted to ask if Peng Ziyuan was always like this.

This intense affection was overwhelming.

“I just don’t like her extravagant spending,” she said.

“That’s not like you. You usually go crazy when we go shopping, like you’re trying to bankrupt your mom.”

“Really…” Chi Lin thought about the original owner’s Weibo posts, her attempts to secure her mother’s love through material possessions.

The more her mother spent on her, the more loved she felt.

Children were the same in every era.

Lost in thought, she barely responded to Lou Mi’s attempts at conversation. Lou Mi, however, interpreted her silence as sulking.

We’re alone in the car, and she’s giving me the silent treatment?

After that secret library rendezvous and now this… how dare she?

Lou Mi decided to be angry first, mirroring Chi Lin’s silent treatment, but with extra coldness.

She put on a sullen expression and reached for her access crystals, intending to ignore Chi Lin and play games.

Chi Lin, noticing the glint of the ring on her finger, said softly, “I’m sorry about the ring. It must be uncomfortable for you.”

“If you don’t like it, I can take it off,” Lou Mi replied, surprised by her apologetic tone.

“No, it suits you,” Chi Lin said. “It’s just… my mother can be a bit overbearing. She didn’t even ask you if you liked it.”

“She didn’t ask me either. Do you like it?”

Chi Lin looked at the rose gold ring on her finger. “I do.”

“Do you like me wearing it?”

Chi Lin sensed an underlying meaning, unsure what Lou Mi was trying to ascertain, but she knew there was no malice.

And since Lou Mi hadn’t taken the ring off, she must have liked it.

“Yes,” she replied.

Lou Mi cursed internally.

Why is she so damn cute?

She wanted to hug her.

Her anger dissipated in an instant.

That little brat is surprisingly perceptive. She knew I was angry and immediately apologized, subtly and effectively. Well played.

Lou Mi put away her access crystals and chatted with Chi Lin all the way home.

Chi Lin, oblivious to Lou Mi’s internal turmoil, had no idea she had inadvertently appeased her.

They arrived home, parking their cars in the garage. The X-H system, anticipating Lou Lixing and Peng Ziyuan’s return, had prepared their usual bedtime wine and filled their bathtub with hot water and bath salts.

Their month-long trip had indeed been partly business, followed by a two-week vacation.

Finally home, they said goodnight to their daughters and retired to their room.

Chi Lin, seeing them go upstairs together, felt relieved.

Thankfully, they weren’t sharing a room. That would have been awkward.

The next day, Monday, Chi Lin woke up early and practiced her martial arts in the courtyard before 6 am.

Peng Ziyuan, waking up at 6:30, went downstairs to prepare breakfast.

She tried to activate the X-H system, but it didn’t respond.

“Hello?”

A figure flashed past the window.

“Who’s there?!” Peng Ziyuan exclaimed.

Lou Mi, yawning, appeared. “It’s just your daughter. Don’t worry.”

“My daughter?”

Lou Mi opened the window, gesturing towards the courtyard.

It was indeed Chi Lin, meditating in the pavilion after her exercises.

Peng Ziyuan, staring at her daughter’s still figure, turned to Lou Mi, bewildered.

Lou Mi added, “She was hanging upside down from a tree the other day. That was more entertaining. Today is pretty normal.”

“So you were telling the truth?” Peng Ziyuan asked, referring to Lou Mi’s messages about Chi Lin’s strange behavior.

Chi Lin had never woken up before 7 am. Waking her up was like trying to move a mountain. And her morning temper was legendary. She would lash out at anyone who dared to disturb her sleep.

Lou Mi: “I thought she was losing it at first, but… close your eyes and picture the old Chi Lin.”

Peng Ziyuan closed her eyes, remembering Chi Lin’s tantrums, her destructive tendencies. She shuddered.

Lou Mi: “Now open your eyes and look at the serene and peaceful Chi Lin before you.”

Peng Ziyuan opened her eyes, seeing her daughter sitting calmly in the pavilion.

“Does it matter if she’s… different?” Lou Mi asked.

“It doesn’t matter!” Peng Ziyuan exclaimed.

“This is the normal Chi Lin,” Lou Mi said. “The other Chi Lin was the problem.”

Peng Ziyuan wasn’t sure what to make of the new Chi Lin, but Lou Mi’s sharp tongue was as sharp as ever.

Peng Ziyuan mentioned the malfunctioning X-H system.

Lou Mi called out, “Teacher,” and the system activated.

“Good morning, Lou Mi. How can I assist you?”

Peng Ziyuan: “Teacher?!”

“Your daughter renamed it,” Lou Mi explained.

“Is my daughter possessed?”

Lou Mi frowned. “Possessed?”

“When I was younger, there were stories about people’s souls traveling through time and inhabiting other bodies, causing personality changes. It sounds like Xiao Lin…”

“Auntie, you have a vivid imagination,” Lou Mi said.

Chapter 24

Chi Lin was apprehensive about meeting Peng Ziyuan.

While Lou Mi, due to their limited interaction, hadn’t noticed the change in Chi Lin’s personality, Peng Ziyuan, as her mother, would be far more perceptive.

There was no one who knew a child better than their mother.

She could be herself around Lou Mi, but with Peng Ziyuan, she had to be careful.

Fortunately, it was Saturday. She had the entire day to study family photos and Chi Lin’s Weibo posts, trying to understand the original owner and her family dynamics.

The original owner’s Weibo posts were a reflection of her academic struggles, filled with typos and grammatical errors, her thoughts often expressed incoherently.

But she had documented many personal details, including a detailed account of her parents’ divorce.

Chi Lin realized the original owner was deeply attached to her mother.

They had been close when Chi Lin was younger, but her father’s departure had created a rift.

Before the divorce, she had a happy family, her father’s love a constant source of joy.

In her mind, only her biological father was her true father, the rightful member of their family. She feared her mother finding a new partner.

A new relationship would be a betrayal, a rejection of her cherished memories, a threat to her sense of security.

Even if those memories were a child’s idealized version of reality, unaware of her parents’ efforts to maintain a facade of harmony, they were precious to her.

Chi Lin found a screenshot of a WeChat conversation between Peng Ziyuan and her ex-husband, discussing their unhappy marriage and the need to separate.

Peng Ziyuan had initiated the divorce, fueling the original owner’s resentment.

“I hate her. I didn’t have a happy family, and neither will she.”

“Why would someone like Lou Lixing even be interested in her?”

“My dad messaged me. He’s moving abroad and never coming back. I don’t have a dad anymore.”

“My hair, my rules. The more Peng Ziyuan hates it, the more I’ll keep it. Ha.”

…

“I want someone to talk to.”

“LM is annoying me again. She never liked me anyway. So I’ll annoy her even more.”

“I have no friends. LHX isn’t my friend. But I can’t be without her.”

LM was likely Lou Mi, and LHX was Liu Huixin.

Chi Lin had learned pinyin, the romanization of Chinese characters, often used online to abbreviate names.

The more she read, the more uneasy she felt.

The original owner had several followers on Weibo, but her thousands of posts had never received a single comment.

Only a few of her more melancholic posts had received likes.

Chi Lin had initially assumed the original owner was a rebellious, attention-seeking brat, eager to lash out at the world.

But she seemed different.

Lonely, but unable to express it.

Lou Mi returned home before dark.

“Ready?” she asked, emerging from the elevator. “Let’s go.”

“What should I wear?” Chi Lin asked, wanting to make a good impression on Peng Ziyuan.

“What you’re wearing is fine,” Lou Mi said, looking at her simple white t-shirt and jeans.

“Shouldn’t I… dress up? Maybe style my hair?”

“Do you want to give your mom a heart attack? No more styling your hair.”

“So she doesn’t like my styled hair?”

“Your previous… explosion was a bit much. The Dean and Ms. Qi kept lecturing you, and your mom complained to my dad countless times. She’ll be thrilled to see your normal hair. Just be a good girl.”

Lou Mi, realizing she sounded like she was taking Peng Ziyuan’s side, added, “For my dad’s and my sake. We want a peaceful dinner.”

Chi Lin, a mischievous glint in her eyes, said, “Don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you.”

Lou Mi stared at her, slightly mesmerized. “You better not… Let’s go.”

“I can’t wear this. It’s my sleepwear.”

“You sleep in jeans?”

“Is that wrong?”

“They’re so… stiff.”

Chi Lin, remembering Lou Mi’s barely-there nightgown, quickly averted her gaze.

“I’ll change. Give me a moment.”

“A moment… how long is that?”

“About ten minutes…”

Chi Lin, forgetting to adjust her language, checked Lou Mi’s reaction. Lou Mi didn’t seem to notice, so she went to change.

Lou Mi opened the fridge, grabbing a drink.

So she’s adopted the ancient way of speaking too.

Wait, is she going to wear that traditional dress to dinner?

West Wharf was a Western restaurant. That would be a bit much.

Chi Lin emerged ten minutes later, wearing her green school uniform.

Lou Mi: “You’re wearing your uniform?”

Chi Lin: “Isn’t it more… appropriate?”

I guess…

Chi Lin was wearing the full uniform, even her backpack.

With her polished shoes, clean face, and neatly tied hair, Lou Mi was certain Peng Ziyuan would burst into tears at the restaurant.

During the drive to West Wharf, Lou Mi, instead of playing games, decided to chat with Chi Lin.

She asked about Ms. Hu and the library study group.

“So you’re getting along with your classmates now?” she asked casually, scrolling through Weibo. “Even having study sessions.”

“It’s alright,” Chi Lin replied. “Only one of them is my classmate.”

“The other two are from different classes?” Lou Mi chuckled. “Your social circle is expanding.”

Chi Lin looked at her. “How did you know there were others?”

Lou Mi: “…I just guessed. I’m smart.”

Chi Lin smiled. “You are indeed smart. You even knew I was at the library for a study session.”

Lou Mi: “…”

She had been trying to subtly extract information about Chi Lin’s potential date.

Instead, she had been caught snooping.

Did that martial arts manual also boost her intelligence?

She missed the old, easily flustered Chi Lin.

Since she had been caught, she decided to double down.

“What else would you be doing at the library? Not studying? Dating, perhaps?”

Chi Lin sighed softly.

The library meeting had been a failure. No leads on the Empress. She felt discouraged.

Lou Mi’s heart sank, hearing her melancholic sigh.

What did that sigh mean?

Had she left the library early because of a… breakup?

But who was she dating? She hadn’t mentioned anything.

Lou Mi, unknowingly, mirrored Chi Lin’s dejection.

They arrived at West Wharf and were led to their table.

Lou Lixing and Peng Ziyuan weren’t there yet. As Chi Lin sat down, she noticed Lou Mi choosing the seat furthest away from her.

Chi Lin: “?”

Lou Mi, studying the menu, said, “Order whatever you want. Except live octopus. Remember that time you almost choked on one? Why would a Western restaurant even serve live octopus?”

She was making small talk, trying to fill the silence. Chi Lin noticed a couple approaching their table.

The man, tall and handsome, in his early forties, resembled a dashing CEO from a television drama, his features vaguely similar to Lou Mi’s.

The woman beside him, impeccably dressed and made-up, her face flawless, was Peng Ziyuan.

They approached cheerfully, then, seeing Chi Lin, their expressions changed, their steps faltering.

They must have been shocked.

Chi Lin had doubts about the emotional resilience of people in this era.

“Xiao… Xiao Lin?”

The woman rushed forward, cupping Chi Lin’s face. “What happened to you?!”

It was Peng Ziyuan.

Chi Lin’s head almost popped off.

Peng Ziyuan’s expression wasn’t one of joy, but shock and dismay.

“Mother… can’t… breathe…” Chi Lin gasped.

Peng Ziyuan, hearing the formal address, recoiled, stumbling backward.

Lou Lixing, standing behind her, caught her just as she was about to fall.

Chi Lin: “…”

What’s wrong with this woman?!

Lou Mi watched, amused.

Peng Ziyuan was always dramatic.

“She… she called me ‘Mother’…” Peng Ziyuan said, pointing a trembling finger at Chi Lin.

Though she had heard it once on WeChat, hearing it in person was still a shock.

Lou Lixing, also stunned, looked at Lou Mi.

Lou Mi quickly defended herself. “I didn’t do anything! I didn’t bully or mistreat her! I have no idea why she’s acting like this. Ask her yourself.”

Chi Lin didn’t understand the fuss. “Mother” was a perfectly normal way to address one’s mother.

Lou Lixing explained, “It’s a big step. Xiao Lin hasn’t called you ‘Mother’ in years.”

Chi Lin: “…”

Peng Ziyuan, her eyes welling up, said, “Xiao Lin, if you’re unhappy, please tell me. I know… I was selfish, leaving you for so long. But I love you. You’re the most important person in the world to me!”

“I didn’t know you were on vacation,” Chi Lin said. “I thought you were on a business trip.”

Lou Lixing coughed awkwardly.

Peng Ziyuan’s dramatic outbursts were a regular occurrence. It was best to ignore them.

They sat down, Peng Ziyuan clinging to Chi Lin, refusing to let go.

“Mother… I can’t breathe…”

Chi Lin, uncomfortable with the physical contact, wanted to escape.

“Let me hug my daughter,” Peng Ziyuan said, closing her eyes. “You still smell like… a baby. I can’t believe you ranked 45th in your class! You’re so smart and so cute! I’m so happy!”

Chi Lin, fearing her mother might actually start sniffing her in public, looked panicked.

Lou Mi, watching from across the table, thought Chi Lin was being overly dramatic.

She looked so small and vulnerable, almost inviting someone to bully her.

Lou Mi focused on cutting her steak, trying to distract herself.

Lou Lixing, pleased by the apparent harmony between mother and daughter, had a few extra drinks, his face flushed.

He turned to Chi Lin. “While your mother and I were on our… ahem, business trip, you and your sister were alone at home, taking care of each other. That’s very commendable. Now that we’re back, you can relax. If you need anything, just ask. Oh, and Xiao Lin, you’ll be eighteen soon. You can get your own car then. I’m taking your sister car shopping this weekend. Come with us. Pick whichever car you like, and I’ll buy it for your birthday.”

A car was an expensive gift. Chi Lin was about to decline when Peng Ziyuan, placing a bowl of soup in front of her, interrupted.

“Xiao Lin’s birthday is in two months. Her birthday is in winter. Don’t you remember?”

“Of course, I remember,” Lou Lixing said. “Two months is just around the corner. I have to start preparing her gift.”

Peng Ziyuan, beaming, said, “You’re the best! I’ll buy Mimi’s car, and you can buy Xiao Lin’s.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Lou Lixing replied.

“We’re so in sync!”

Chi Lin cringed at their exchange, their blatant flirting suffocating her.

She had expected adults to be more mature, but they were worse than children.

Lou Mi also couldn’t stand it anymore. “Can we please focus on eating? We can discuss gifts later.”

“Right, let’s eat!”

“Dig in!”

Lou Mi, observing her parents’ cheerful demeanor, concluded their romantic getaway had been a success.

Spending two weeks alone together, away from their children, had rekindled their romance.

And seeing their delinquent daughter transformed into a well-behaved, academically improving student had further boosted Peng Ziyuan’s mood.

Peng Ziyuan’s happiness meant Lou Lixing’s happiness, creating a harmonious family atmosphere.

It was the kind of warmth Lou Mi had always longed for.

After dinner, Peng Ziyuan and Lou Lixing insisted on taking the girls shopping.

The mall was the largest in the city, with four floors, each larger than both sections of the National Library combined.

Every major brand had a store here.

“Xiao Lin, tell me what you want. Don’t worry about the price. Tonight, you’re a princess!”

“Mother, please keep your voice down…” Chi Lin pleaded.

“Why should I? I want the whole world to know my daughter ranked 45th in her class! 45th!”

“I don’t need anything…” Chi Lin said, exhausted.

A mother and son passing by stopped.

The mother, pointing at Chi Lin, said to her son, “Look at that girl!”

The boy, pointing at Peng Ziyuan, replied, “Look at that mom!”

Lou Mi, overhearing their exchange, burst out laughing.

Chi Lin didn’t dare look at anything in the mall. If her gaze lingered on an item for more than two seconds, her mother would immediately purchase it.

It was overwhelming.

“Please,” Chi Lin begged, wanting to glue her mother’s mouth shut. “I don’t need anything. Stop buying things. It’s such a waste.”

Peng Ziyuan, touched by her daughter’s apparent frugality, said, “My Xiao Lin has grown up! She’s worried about my spending! I’m so happy! I want to spend money on you! As much as I want!”

Chi Lin: “Why are we stuck in this loop…?”

They entered a jewelry store. Peng Ziyuan, admiring a pair of rings, asked the sales assistant to show them to her.

“These are our classic Maillon Panthère rings,” the assistant explained. “The chain-link design is inspired by a panther’s paw print, symbolizing both strength and grace.”

Peng Ziyuan liked the platinum and rose gold rings.

Lou Lixing wondered if she wanted another pair of rings, having just purchased engagement rings recently.

Peng Ziyuan turned to Chi Lin. “Xiao Lin, try these on.”

“Me?” Chi Lin asked.

“I think they would suit you.”

Before Chi Lin could respond, the assistant said, “I’ll get your size. One moment.”

She returned almost instantly with two rings in similar sizes.

Chi Lin tried on the rose gold ring. Peng Ziyuan gasped.

“It’s perfect! It looks so good on you!”

“Your fingers are so slender and elegant,” the assistant added.

“But… we’re not allowed to wear jewelry at school,” Chi Lin said.

“You can wear it outside of school, on weekends, during vacations,” Peng Ziyuan said, pulling Lou Mi over and asking if she preferred gold or platinum.

“I usually wear platinum, but…”

The assistant presented her with the platinum ring. “You and your… sister would wear the same size.”

Peng Ziyuan tried it on Lou Mi. It fit perfectly, enhancing her elegant hands.

“Beautiful,” Peng Ziyuan murmured, admiring the matching rings on their fingers, envisioning a harmonious blended family.

“We’ll take these,” she told the assistant. “No need for wrapping. We’ll wear them now.”

“Certainly!”

“Auntie,” Lou Mi said, “these are couple rings…”

Peng Ziyuan blinked, then turned to the assistant. “Can only couples wear couple rings?”

“Of course not!” the assistant replied quickly. “They’re perfect for mothers and daughters, best friends, sisters…”

Peng Ziyuan gave Lou Mi a thumbs-up. “See? Perfect!”

Lou Mi sighed, giving up.

Chi Lin remained silent throughout the ordeal.

Lou Mi leaned closer and whispered, “Your mom has lost it.”

Chi Lin, looking at the ring on her finger, asked Lou Mi, “Don’t you like it?”

Lou Mi, startled by her earnest expression, quickly said, “I didn’t say I didn’t like it!”

Chi Lin thought, What’s the big deal? It’s just a ring.

Both Lou Mi and the original owner were fortunate to have people who cared about them.

“That’s good,” she said, smiling softly.

She had considered taking off the ring, but seeing Chi Lin wearing hers, she decided to keep it.

It does suit me, she thought.

Chapter 23

Chi Lin had held onto a sliver of hope.

She hadn’t truly believed she would find the Empress’s reincarnation so easily.

Despite her preparations, the questions, the tea, she had mentally prepared herself for a long and arduous search.

But the confirmation of her suspicions, or rather, the lack thereof, left her feeling deflated and uncertain.

Had the Preceptor been wrong about the clues and hints? He had never used the Soul-Chasing Secret Art before. How could he know about reincarnation?

It was a contradiction.

Lost in thought, she hadn’t heard a word Liu Huixin had said.

When she finally tuned back in, she noticed Tan Luo and Teng Jiang looking at her strangely.

“Your sworn sister is so nice to you. I’m so jealous,” Liu Huixin said, staring at Chi Lin with a saccharine smile.

Chi Lin, initially confused, understood when Liu Huixin emphasized the words “sworn sister.”

Whenever Liu Huixin mentioned her “sworn sister,” it meant trouble.

Liu Huixin’s infatuation with Teng Jiang was obvious. She would seize any opportunity to discredit Chi Lin in his eyes.

But spreading rumors in front of the person in question seemed… foolish.

“I don’t have a sworn sister,” Chi Lin said, her usual calm demeanor replaced by a chilling coldness.

She had initially dismissed Liu Huixin’s petty attempts at sabotage, but her repeated provocations were becoming tiresome.

And dragging Lou Mi’s name through the mud was unacceptable. Lou Mi, a respected figure, reduced to a scandalous rumor by Liu Huixin’s malicious gossip.

Chi Lin’s disappointment over her failed attempt to identify the Empress turned to anger.

“You admitted it yourself! Why are you denying it now?” Liu Huixin shrieked, feigning shock and clutching her chest, looking at Teng Jiang and Tan Luo for support, then leaning closer to Chi Lin, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Did you dump your sworn sister?”

Chi Lin’s gaze locked onto Liu Huixin’s. “I never said I had a sworn sister. I’d appreciate it if you stopped spreading these false rumors.”

Liu Huixin was taken aback by her sudden assertiveness.

Was this the same quiet, timid Chi Lin?

Her palms began to sweat.

But this was a library. Chi Lin couldn’t possibly attack her here, right?

Teng Jiang, see what kind of person she really is!

“I can’t believe you’d do this,” Liu Huixin wailed, turning to Teng Jiang and Tan Luo. “Your sworn sister was so good to you, buying you gifts and food, and now you’ve dumped her for someone better? And you’re denying it? We’ve been deskmates for over a year. Does anyone in Class 6 know you better than I do? I considered you a friend! How could you do this? I always thought you were just… academically challenged. I never judged you for your bad grades. But now… I’m so disappointed in you.”

Liu Huixin continued her dramatic performance, embellishing her fabricated story. She had no proof of any gifts or favors, but what other reason would someone have for a “sworn sister” relationship? Her assumptions were perfectly reasonable.

That poor, single-parent Chi Lin must have been taking advantage of her sworn sister.

Teng Jiang and Tan Luo remained silent, their expressions unreadable.

Chi Lin, facing Liu Huixin’s accusations, simply stared at her.

Liu Huixin braced herself for an outburst.

Come on, show your true colors!

You got away with it at the Cultural Festival, but not this time!

To her surprise, Chi Lin didn’t explode. She smiled.

She reached out and patted Liu Huixin’s wrist.

“Why are you so agitated? I told you, you’re imagining things.”

The seemingly innocuous pat, however, held a hidden purpose.

With a swift, undetectable movement, Chi Lin’s fingers pressed two pressure points on Liu Huixin’s wrist.

“I do have a sister, but she’s not a ‘sworn sister.’ She’s my mother’s boyfriend’s daughter. I mentioned it once, and you’ve been obsessed with this ‘sworn sister’ idea ever since. It’s not what you think.”

Chi Lin’s tone was light and casual, her explanation simple and straightforward. She withdrew her hand.

The interaction seemed perfectly normal. Liu Huixin, seeing Chi Lin’s smile, scoffed internally. Still so timid, even when being bullied.

As Liu Huixin began to recount Chi Lin’s past failings to Teng Jiang, a spasm shot through her arm.

It traveled up her shoulder to her neck, her head jerking to the side uncontrollably.

“Uh… uh?”

Her eyes widened in panic. She couldn’t control her neck. It felt limp and weak.

Her head tilted further, her chin almost touching her shoulder. Her arm went numb, her entire left side unresponsive.

“What’s wrong?” Teng Jiang asked, alarmed by her strange behavior.

Liu Huixin’s fingers twitched, her neck contorting at an unnatural angle.

Sweat beaded on her forehead, her mouth twisting, her features contorting.

What’s happening to me?!

She tried to stand and call for help, but her tongue felt heavy and useless, her legs numb and unresponsive. She couldn’t feel them.

Tan Luo watched in horror as Liu Huixin, unable to speak, drooled and made unintelligible sounds.

“Uh… uh! Uh!”

Her arm twitched spasmodically, hitting the table repeatedly, the sound echoing through the quiet library.

Other patrons, initially curious, quickly averted their gazes, disturbed by her contortions.

Some moved away, fearing contagion. Others whispered amongst themselves, speculating about her condition. One person even started filming her with their phone.

“Miss, are you okay? Should I call an ambulance?”

Liu Huixin’s face was drenched in sweat and saliva.

The more she struggled to speak, the worse the spasms became.

As Teng Jiang and Tan Luo dialed emergency services, Liu Huixin suddenly made a sound. She could speak again!

Her neck slowly straightened, the feeling returning to her arm, her fingers, her tongue.

“Are you okay?” Teng Jiang asked, waving his hand in front of her dazed eyes.

“I… I…” Liu Huixin, still in shock, remembered Chi Lin’s touch.

Chi Lin had never touched her before. That pat had been strange.

A tingling sensation had shot through her wrist, followed by the loss of control over her body.

It had to be Chi Lin!

Tan Luo, seeing her dazed expression, asked, “Are you alright?”

“Chi Lin! What did you do to me?!” Liu Huixin shrieked, pointing at Chi Lin.

Her voice echoed through the library, drawing everyone’s attention.

Chi Lin remained calm. “What could I possibly do? I can’t even solve the simplest problems.”

“You…” Liu Huixin looked around for a weapon.

Chi Lin wasn’t worried. If Liu Huixin attacked her, she could easily incapacitate her without anyone noticing.

“Calm down,” Teng Jiang said, handing her a tissue. “Wipe your mouth.”

Liu Huixin, realizing her drooling had been witnessed by her crush, felt a wave of shame. Teng Jiang’s look of disgust was more devastating than any physical attack.

Mortified, she covered her face and fled the library.

The other patrons stared, stunned. Xie Buyu and the others were also shocked, speculating about Liu Huixin’s sudden ailment.

Only Lou Mi suspected the truth.

The martial arts, the upside-down hanging, the sword dancing… and now this?

And Chi Lin’s earlier remark about curses…

Lou Mi understood. She was certain.

Chi Lin’s recent transformation, her newfound confidence and assertiveness… it all made sense.

She must have found a secret martial arts manual!

With Liu Huixin gone, Chi Lin felt a sense of anticlimax.

The pressure point technique she had used only lasted for a minute, with no lasting effects, just temporary paralysis and public humiliation.

She hadn’t used it since she was a teenager, a childish prank.

And now, she had used it again, for another childish prank.

Neither Teng Jiang nor Tan Luo seemed to be the Empress. She thanked them for their time and left.

“Wait, where are you going?” Teng Jiang asked, trying to stop her.

“Let her go,” Tan Luo said, watching Chi Lin leave with a smile. “She’s harder to win over than I thought.”

As Chi Lin left, Lou Mi quickly closed her book and announced, “It’s getting late. Let’s call it a night. I’m heading home.”

She hurried after Chi Lin.

The remaining four team members exchanged excited whispers.

“So that was the sister!”

“Did you see her face? She’s pretty!”

“Not just pretty, she’s gorgeous!”

Hu Hu said thoughtfully, “She looks like that girl from the viral sword dance video.”

“What sword dance video?” Zhuo Jinglan asked.

“The one from the Cultural Festival,” Pagoda said. “Chi Lin from South Lake Third High.”

Xie Buyu, her gaze fixed on Tan Luo, said, “So that wasn’t Mi-jie’s sister. I wonder if I have a chance.”

Pagoda: “Didn’t you just say she looked shady…?”

Xie Buyu smirked. “I like shady.”

Pagoda: “…”

Zhuo Jinglan: “Weren’t we supposed to have dinner after team building? They just left?”

Hu Hu sipped his water quietly.

…

Liu Huixin didn’t come to school for two days after the library incident.

When she returned, looking pale and gaunt, she asked Ms. Qi to change her seat.

She claimed her hearing had deteriorated and she needed to sit closer to the front.

She had a doctor’s note confirming her diagnosis, so Ms. Qi, after consulting with her mother, agreed.

Seat changes after midterms were a regular occurrence at South Lake Third High.

Students with improved grades moved forward, while disruptive students were relegated to the back.

Liu Huixin moved to the second row, far away from Chi Lin.

Chi Lin, her grades improved, moved three rows forward, becoming Lin Xiaozhi’s deskmate.

Ms. Qi had asked Lin Xiaozhi if she was willing to sit with Chi Lin and help her with her studies.

“Chi Lin is showing signs of improvement, and we should encourage her. As class president, would you be willing to mentor her?”

Lin Xiaozhi, smiling sweetly, readily agreed.

“Of course, I’d be happy to help Chi Lin.”

With Chi Lin and Lin Xiaozhi now deskmates, Wei Zhuoning, having neglected her studies for her novel, became the new bottom-ranked student in Class 6, banished to a solitary desk in the corner.

Chi Lin and Lin Xiaozhi became inseparable, spending all their time together, discussing difficult concepts, working on practice problems… or just whispering to each other, their conversations inaudible to the eavesdropping Wei Zhuoning.

They were like two peas in a pod.

One day, after school, Lin Xiaozhi called out to Wei Zhuoning, who was walking ahead. Wei Zhuoning turned, then quickly boarded a bus, avoiding her.

Lin Xiaozhi, her hand outstretched, smiled to herself.

Soon…

Come into my web, little rabbit.

…

“Mimi, your Auntie Peng and I will be back tomorrow. We’ve brought you lots of gifts and local specialties. Aren’t you excited to see me? Pick up Xiao Lin after school and meet us at West Wharf for dinner.”

Lou Mi woke up to another handwritten message from her dad.

Reading a handwritten message in this era felt like receiving a handwritten letter twenty years ago.

She and her dad seemed to operate on different time zones. The message had been sent at 5:30 am.

It was now noon. As she was about to leave for the club, she saw Chi Lin emerging from the bathroom.

Lou Mi, about to enter the elevator, stepped back. “Aren’t you going to school?”

“It’s Saturday,” Chi Lin replied.

“Oh, right. My dad wants us to have dinner together tonight.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, your mom is coming back too.”

Chi Lin hadn’t realized their parents’ business trips coincided.

“You think it’s a bit suspicious too, don’t you?” Lou Mi chuckled. “They weren’t on business trips. They were on a romantic getaway. Finally decided to come home after gallivanting for two weeks. Do you know West Wharf? The restaurant?”

Chi Lin shook her head.

Lou Mi considered telling her to take a taxi, then changed her mind. “I’ll pick you up at 4:30. Stay home today. Don’t wander off.”

“Okay.”

So obedient today.

As the elevator doors closed, Lou Mi smiled to herself.

And Chi Lin still had her straight, black hair. She wondered how her parents would react.

Lou Lixing might not notice, but Peng Ziyuan would probably feel like she had a new daughter.

Chapter 22

The team’s excitement over team building quickly turned to dread at the prospect of spending their evening at the library.

Pagoda: “I haven’t been to a library since graduation.”

Xie Buyu: “I’ve never been to one.”

Pagoda: “…”

Zhuo Jinglan: “I just remembered I have some work to do at the club. You guys go ahead. I’ll join you later.”

Xie Buyu: “Lan-jie, that’s so unprofessional. Abandoning your team for ‘work’? Have you no shame?”

Lou Mi, who had been silently observing, interrupted. “Didn’t you guys want team building? Get going. Meet me at the library entrance in an hour. After we enrich our minds, I’ll treat you to dinner. Your pick, anywhere in the city.”

Zhuo Jinglan: “I just remembered I finished my work. I’m free now.”

Lou Mi: “…”

The audacity of this woman. It was a miracle Nine Heavens had survived under her management.

Lou Mi didn’t want to go to the library either. Whether or not that little brat was dating was none of her business.

But the little brat had started calling her “Sister.”

And that came with responsibilities.

As long as Chi Lin called her “Sister,” she had a duty to care for her.

After the meeting, Lou Mi logged off. Xie Buyu, gathering the others, whispered, “Mi-jie is acting strange. I think it’s related to her sister.”

“I agree!” Pagoda exclaimed.

Zhuo Jinglan winced. “Keep your voice down…”

Xie Buyu: “She’s probably using team building as an excuse to spy on her sister. The library, such an innocent location for a secret rendezvous. Our Mi-jie is so pure when it comes to love.”

Zhuo Jinglan: “Well, she’s never dated before. It’s understandable.”

Hu Hu: “Wait, Mi-jie has never dated? Seriously? So many people are dying to go out with her.”

Xie Buyu: “Even at the club. But she’s HighTowerMiyuki, the highest-paid esports athlete for three years running, earning more than the rest of us combined. Beautiful, talented, rich… who thinks they’re good enough? Everyone admires her from afar.”

Pagoda: “Mi-jie has always been exceptional, even in school. She’s never been interested in dating, focused only on her career.”

Zhuo Jinglan sighed. “Maybe some people just don’t need romance.”

Xie Buyu: “So Mi-jie is finally in love! I’m dying to meet this sister of hers.”

Pagoda and Hu Hu echoed her sentiment, eager to meet the person who had captured Lou Mi’s heart.

Zhuo Jinglan, having met Chi Lin, warned them, “Don’t get your hopes up.”

Xie Buyu: “So what if she’s a walking rainbow? If Mi-jie isn’t scared, neither are we.”

Their initial disappointment over the library trip turned to excitement at the prospect of meeting the mysterious “sister.” They logged off and prepared to leave.

Lou Mi, initially planning to go in casual clothes, changed her mind, applying light makeup and choosing a more stylish outfit.

An hour later, they arrived at the National Library.

It was a massive building, over ten stories high, divided into two sections.

Lou Mi stared at the map, unsure where to start.

Had Chi Lin gone to the North or South Building? Both had reading rooms and borrowing sections.

Why was it even divided? Wasn’t a single, unified library more efficient?

As she hesitated, Xie Buyu asked, “Mi-jie, haven’t you decided which building to infiltrate yet?”

Lou Mi, sensing an underlying meaning, said, “Let’s check the South Building first.”

The South Building had fifteen floors, with a restaurant in the basement and a closed archive on the 15th floor. The other floors housed foreign language books and periodicals.

Lou Mi doubted Chi Lin would be here. She could barely read English, let alone other languages.

But… what if she was trying to improve her English after the Ms. Hu incident?

They searched from the 14th floor down, but there was no sign of Chi Lin.

Okay, North Building it is.

The North Building, also fifteen stories high, with a similar layout, housed Chinese books. Its floors were twice as large as the South Building’s.

They continued their search, Lou Mi leading the way, the others trailing behind.

They circled the floors repeatedly, attracting curious glances from other patrons.

Finally, Zhuo Jinglan, her legs aching, suggested taking a break.

“Go find some books,” Lou Mi said, gesturing towards the nearest table. “Read whatever you like, and we’ll discuss it later.”

Her gaze, however, was fixed on a table across the room.

Xie Buyu and the others followed her gaze. A group of high school students, one boy and three girls, sat together. No one had spiky, multicolored hair.

Zhuo Jinglan, parched, offered to get drinks.

Hu Hu went with her to carry the drinks.

Pagoda and Xie Buyu, hiding their phones under the table, exchanged messages.

“OMG! The sister is studying with other people! Mi-jie is jealous! She came all the way here to spy on them!”

“So it wasn’t a date! It was a stakeout!”

“But which one is the sister?”

“Lan-jie isn’t here. We can’t tell…”

“I think it’s the girl in the blue dress.”

Pagoda looked at the girl in the blue dress.

The real “sister,” Chi Lin, was sitting with her back to them, facing Teng Jiang, with Tan Luo on her left and Liu Huixin, uninvited but determined, on her right.

The girl in the blue dress was Tan Luo.

Pagoda observed her for a few seconds. “She’s pretty, but… there’s something shady about her. Am I imagining things?”

“Nope, I see it too. Experienced, manipulative… probably had a lot of girlfriends. Wow, Mi-jie has interesting taste. I’m worried our innocent Mi-jie is no match for this girl.”

Pagoda: “…You can tell all that from just looking at her?”

Lou Mi, noticing their hushed whispers and furtive glances under the table, said, “What are you two doing? Go get some books.”

Xie Buyu and Pagoda, convinced Lou Mi was about to be heartbroken, felt less resentful about the library trip.

Pagoda placed her phone on the table and looked at Lou Mi with sympathy.

“Mi-jie, if you need to talk, we’re here for you.”

Lou Mi: “What are you talking about?”

Xie Buyu, standing up, smacked Pagoda on the head. “Idiot. Let’s go find some books.”

They walked off, whispering to each other.

Lou Mi, watching them, suddenly realized: Are they dating?

It made sense. Teammates turning into couples was a common occurrence.

When everyone returned, Lou Mi walked to the bookshelf opposite Chi Lin’s table, pretending to browse, while discreetly observing the group.

She was right. At least two of them, the boy and one of the girls, seemed very interested in Chi Lin.

And they were both quite attractive…

She returned to her table, suddenly feeling foolish.

Why had she come all the way here? Who went on group dates? It was probably a study group.

She tried to convince herself the library trip wasn’t a complete waste of time. They had explored the library, gotten some exercise, and now they could expand their minds with some light reading.

She looked down at the book she had randomly chosen: A Report on Ancient Chinese Sexology. The title, in large, bold letters, stood out against the plain yellow cover.

Lou Mi: “…”

What the…

She had assumed the thick, hardcover book was some serious academic work.

And it was, but…

Xie Buyu, Pagoda, Hu Hu, and Zhuo Jinglan all stared at the book.

Their expressions, initially shocked, turned to knowing amusement.

“Wrong book,” Lou Mi muttered, her face burning, wanting to disappear.

“It’s okay, we understand,” Xie Buyu said.

Lou Mi: “?”

“Really, it’s natural at your age,” Pagoda added. “We get it.”

What do you get? I don’t get it.

Unlike the bewildered Lou Mi, Chi Lin knew exactly what she was doing.

She had come to assess whether Tan Luo or Teng Jiang might be the Empress’s reincarnation.

She had prepared special tea blends, using herbs and tea leaves purchased online, incorporating the Empress’s favorite ingredient, Fu Xuan Zi, a herb most people disliked, but the Empress had loved.

The Empress had once said she had been drawn to its unique scent since childhood.

Chi Lin believed this was an innate preference, something that might carry over to her next life.

She planned to observe their reactions to the tea.

Liu Huixin’s presence was irrelevant. She couldn’t possibly be the Empress.

Throughout the study session, Liu Huixin had monopolized Teng Jiang’s attention, chattering incessantly and giggling loudly, oblivious to the annoyed glances from other patrons.

After an hour, Chi Lin said, “I’m thirsty. Does anyone want something to drink?”

Teng Jiang offered to get hot water. Chi Lin produced her tea bags.

“This is my favorite blend. Try it,” she said.

“I never drink plain water,” Tan Luo said, taking a tea bag. “Our Xiao Chi Lin is so thoughtful…” Her gaze lingered on Chi Lin’s neckline.

Chi Lin instinctively hunched over, trying to hide her chest.

Liu Huixin also took a tea bag and went with Teng Jiang to get hot water.

As the hot water steeped the tea, Teng Jiang grimaced.

“This is… interesting.”

Liu Huixin coughed, clutching her chest. “It’s so strong! I can’t handle strong smells. This is awful.”

She dumped out her tea and urged Teng Jiang to do the same.

“Don’t drink it. You’ll get sick. And it doesn’t even have proper packaging.”

“That’s rude,” Teng Jiang said.

“How is it rude? She gave us this weird stuff without even asking.”

Teng Jiang ignored her and filled their cups, carrying them back to the table.

Liu Huixin trailed behind him, complaining. He distributed the cups, and Chi Lin observed their reactions.

Teng Jiang took a sip, his brow furrowing, but he quickly forced a smile.

“Did you make this yourself, Chi Lin? It’s… good.”

Tan Luo also took a sip, her expression unchanged. She savored the taste, then looked at Chi Lin.

“Unique, just like you.”

Chi Lin shuddered at her cheesy remark.

She couldn’t die yet… she had to find the Empress.

Tan Luo seemed to genuinely enjoy the tea, unlike Teng Jiang, who was clearly forcing himself to tolerate the taste of Fu Xuan Zi.

Tan Luo finished her tea and went to get another cup, praising the blend and asking for the recipe.

“I’ve never tasted anything like this. I want to make it myself.”

Make it herself? Teng Jiang stared at her as if she were a martyr.

Did she really like it? Even Teng Jiang, with his smooth-talking ways, hadn’t dared to take another sip.

This tea blend had once incapacitated most of Dayuan’s high-ranking officials. Only the Empress had enjoyed it.

Even Chi Lin herself could only handle a small amount…

She observed Tan Luo, admiring her beauty. She was indeed striking, her features perfectly balanced.

There was a hint of regality in her demeanor, reminiscent of the Empress, who could switch effortlessly between playful charm and commanding authority.

Of course, Tan Luo couldn’t compare to the Empress, but the resemblance was undeniable.

Could the Empress have been reborn as this… cheesy senior?

The thought was unsettling.

Despite Tan Luo’s enthusiasm for the tea, Chi Lin couldn’t conclude she was the Empress’s reincarnation based on this alone.

The study session continued, Chi Lin subtly steering the conversation towards Tan Luo, observing her reactions.

She gradually realized Tan Luo’s initial enthusiasm for the tea had been mere flattery.

Neither Tan Luo nor Teng Jiang was the Empress.

Chapter 21

For the next few days, Lou Mi observed Chi Lin closely, concerned about her emotional state.

She avoided arguments, deferring to Chi Lin whenever possible. They coexisted peacefully, almost like real sisters.

Lou Lixing, noticing the lack of complaints from his daughter, inquired about the situation at home.

“Mimi, how are you doing? Is Xiao Lin still causing trouble? Don’t hesitate to tell me. I’ll take care of it.”

Lou Mi: “Oh, I have a dad.”

Lou Lixing: “…”

“Don’t tell me you’ve disowned me just because I’m away on business!”

Lou Mi chuckled. “Just kidding. I’m fine. That little brat can’t do anything to me. I’ve got her under control.”

Lou Lixing, only half-believing her, promised to return within a week.

“No rush,” Lou Mi said. “Focus on your work.”

Lou Lixing, hearing her unusually mature tone, grew even more worried.

…

The video of Chi Lin’s sword dance had spread from the school forum to Weibo, gaining thousands of reposts.

“Who is this ethereal beauty? The simple backdrop suggests a school performance. Is she a high school student?”

“Her dancing is incredible! Is she a dance major?”

Experts weighed in, noting her precise movements and advanced martial arts skills.

“Please tell us who she is!”

“I know her! She’s my classmate! Chi Lin from South Lake Third High. The video doesn’t do her justice. She’s even more beautiful in person.”

Marketing accounts, sensing the video’s viral potential, reposted it, further amplifying its reach.

Chi Lin, unaware of her newfound internet fame, was rushing to school, about to be late again.

Thirty seconds left. The security guard cheered her on.

Five seconds… almost there!

Just as she was about to step through the gate, someone grabbed her arm.

“Are you Chi Lin?”

“Is ‘White Dew Unsettled’ your creation?”

Before she could react, several microphones were thrust in her face.

“Who are you?” she asked, recognizing the cameras and equipment from street interviews she had seen online.

The reporters, sensing a viral story, had tracked her down.

They explained their purpose, wanting to interview her about the inspiration behind her sword dance.

“And many netizens are curious about you. Can you tell us a bit about yourself?”

Chi Lin, hoping to increase her visibility and reach the Empress, explained the meaning of “White Dew Unsettled.”

“It’s a line from the Classic of Poetry. ‘Luxuriant is the knotgrass, and the white dew has not yet dried.’ It describes the longing for someone who is seemingly unattainable, yet the speaker believes in their existence. I tried to express this feeling through dance, the wavering between certainty and uncertainty…”

Chi Lin spoke eloquently, her composure surprising the reporters.

She had addressed larger crowds before, unfazed by the cameras and microphones.

“White Dew Unsettled” was originally inspired by her budding feelings for the Empress. Now, in this new era, separated from the Empress, its meaning resonated even more deeply.

Her heartfelt explanation, combined with her graceful demeanor, captivated the online audience.

“She’s even more beautiful in real life!”

“No filters!”

“Not only can she dance, but she’s also articulate and intelligent.”

Initially, the comments were overwhelmingly positive, but soon, some negative comments appeared.

“Don’t be fooled. I go to South Lake Third High. Chi Lin is a loser, a failing student. This is just a cheap publicity stunt.”

“And her personal life is a mess. She’s into both guys and girls.”

…

Chi Lin ignored the online comments. She had no time for such distractions.

She discovered the library’s restricted section, containing rare historical archives and manuscripts, including local gazetteers from various regions, a potential goldmine of information.

She spent every spare moment poring over these documents, searching for clues about Dayuan.

She also read books on the relationship between body and soul, exploring philosophical and scientific perspectives on past lives.

Besides her research, she focused on her studies, aware of the importance of good grades in gaining social acceptance and facilitating her investigation.

Balancing her research, studies, and daily life was challenging, but she found it fulfilling.

The impact of “White Dew Unsettled” continued to spread. One day, as she entered the elevator, a junior high student approached her.

The girl, small and shy, her hands hidden in her sleeves, nervously presented Chi Lin with a letter.

“Senpai… please accept this…”

Her face flushed crimson, her body trembling. Chi Lin, always soft-hearted towards girls, accepted the letter.

She didn’t need to open it to know its contents.

It was amusing that even in this technologically advanced era, handwritten letters remained the preferred medium for expressing romantic interest.

Only a handwritten letter could convey the sincerity of one’s feelings.

The girl scurried away, and Chi Lin placed the letter in her backpack.

“Quite the charmer. I never got love letters from junior high girls,” a voice said.

Teng Jiang’s head poked out of the Class 1 window, whistling at her.

Chi Lin quickened her pace, but Teng Jiang intercepted her.

“Don’t be so cold,” he said. “Give me a chance. I was the first to notice you, the first to give you a gift. You accepted that girl’s letter but threw away my gift. That’s harsh. Don’t you believe in first come, first served?”

Chi Lin, blocked by him, couldn’t escape. Teng Jiang, not wanting to offend her, flashed a charming smile.

“Are you free this weekend? We could go to the library. I can tutor you. Just tutoring, nothing else.”

His classmates overheard his last remark and erupted in laughter.

“Shut up,” Teng Jiang said. “I’m trying to woo my future wife.”

Liu Huixin, eavesdropping from around the corner, fumed.

How had that idiot Chi Lin suddenly become so popular?

She had effortlessly memorized the difficult text, crushed the robotic snake (which had cost Liu Huixin a month’s allowance), and now, after her stunning performance at the Cultural Festival, she was attracting even more attention.

Was Chi Lin playing dumb all along?

She had wondered why Chi Lin seemed so unfazed by recent events. Perhaps she had been orchestrating everything.

Had Chi Lin planned to participate in the Cultural Festival all along, even without Liu Huixin’s interference?

Liu Huixin’s jealousy intensified as she witnessed the growing number of admirers surrounding Chi Lin.

What was so special about her?

So what if she was pretty? Looks couldn’t buy happiness.

And Teng Jiang’s persistence was infuriating.

Chi Lin had thrown away his “Bewildered Universe,” and he was still pursuing her? Did he have no pride?

He was the school heartthrob!

Liu Huixin’s jealousy reached its peak when she heard Teng Jiang’s playful yet sincere remark about “wooing his future wife.”

Chi Lin, feeling a wave of revulsion at Teng Jiang’s oily charm, considered taking a detour to avoid him, but then remembered the Preceptor’s words.

The Empress’s reincarnation could be anyone, of any gender or social standing.

Teng Jiang’s persistence reminded her of the Empress’s own efforts to break down the barriers between them.

What if… what if the Empress had been reborn as a man?

She looked at Teng Jiang more closely.

He was indeed handsome, the kind of face that might appeal to a woman who preferred men.

“Are you a good student?” she asked.

“If anyone else asked, I might be modest,” Teng Jiang replied. “But since it’s you, I can confidently say, yes, I am.”

Liu Huixin, unable to contain herself any longer, interjected, “Chi Lin, that’s rude! Teng Jiang is in the top 20 in our grade!”

“Oh,” Chi Lin said. “So, what time at the library on Saturday?”

Teng Jiang, surprised by her easy agreement, stammered, “Nine am on Saturday. I’ll pick you up!”

“No need,” Chi Lin said. “I’ll take a taxi.”

Liu Huixin, witnessing Chi Lin’s nonchalant demeanor, was convinced she was playing hard to get.

She had deliberately thrown away his gift to pique his interest!

How shameless!

As Liu Huixin was about to confront her, a voice interrupted.

“Oh, I’m too late. I wanted to ask Xiao Chi Lin out too. Can I join you?”

Liu Huixin turned and saw Tan Luo, a senior and the school’s “goddess,” standing behind her.

Tan Luo too? Is this a joke?!

Liu Huixin’s composure crumbled.

The attention from insignificant admirers was one thing, but Teng Jiang and Tan Luo were the school’s most popular students, admired by countless others. What did Chi Lin have that she didn’t?

Tan Luo casually draped an arm around Chi Lin’s shoulder. Chi Lin discreetly stepped away, creating some distance.

Tan Luo, unfazed, smiled mischievously.

“I’m a good student too. Want to study together?”

Few would believe she was referring to academics, not something else.

Tan Luo, with her stunning looks and reputation for romantic conquests, didn’t look like a high school student. And she had curled her hair today. Hopefully, she wouldn’t run into the Dean of Students.

Teng Jiang, annoyed by this unexpected interruption, was about to dismiss her when Chi Lin agreed.

“Sure, let’s study together.”

Chi Lin had heard of Tan Luo, the perennial top student, her scores legendary.

Except for one time, when a broken bone had forced her to miss the Chinese exam, resulting in a second-place ranking, she had always maintained a significant lead over the other students.

And she was apparently capable of balancing academics with romantic pursuits.

Chi Lin, observing Tan Luo, noticed a certain resemblance to the Empress’s demeanor.

She could be the Empress’s reincarnation.

In the Class 6 classroom, Wei Zhuoning, seeing Tan Luo, felt a surge of schadenfreude. Remembering Lin Xiaozhi’s past entanglement with Tan Luo, she nudged her deskmate excitedly.

“Hey, your ex! She’s moved on!”

Lin Xiaozhi, busy with her practice questions, glanced up and smirked.

“That girl is trouble. You should be more concerned about your A Lin.”

Wei Zhuoning: “…”

Despite the jab, Wei Zhuoning’s curiosity was piqued.

She had only heard rumors about Lin Xiaozhi and Tan Luo.

She wanted to ask…

But would that seem like she cared?

She took a deep breath, suppressing her journalistic instincts.

“So it’s settled,” Tan Luo said, smiling at Chi Lin. “See you on Saturday.”

“I’m coming too!” Liu Huixin blurted out, unable to bear the thought of Chi Lin spending time with Teng Jiang.

Teng Jiang, though annoyed by her intrusion, couldn’t object, since Chi Lin had agreed. He would use this opportunity to get closer to Chi Lin and secure a solo date next time.

Tan Luo and Teng Jiang added Chi Lin on WeChat and left.

Liu Huixin, desperate for attention, was ignored by both of them.

Saturday.

Finally free from the green school uniform, Chi Lin wore a peacock blue hoodie, ripped jeans, and trendy sneakers, purchased online with the system’s help.

She admired the casual and expressive fashion of this era.

She wasn’t fond of ripped clothing, but it was so prevalent in fashion magazines and online that her aesthetic sensibilities had been slightly influenced.

Her adaptability and open-mindedness allowed her to blend in seamlessly.

As she was about to leave, she ran into Lou Mi in the living room.

Lou Mi, seeing her in casual clothes, paused, surprised.

“I’m going out, Sister,” Chi Lin said, heading for the door.

“Where are you going?” Lou Mi asked.

“To the library.”

Chi Lin, usually seen in a shapeless school uniform, looked surprisingly stylish in her casual clothes.

Dressed up for the library? Unlikely.

Lou Mi watched as she left.

Did that little brat have a date?

“Mi-jie, are you there?”

Pagoda’s voice echoed from the holographic video conference in her study.

Lou Mi returned to her workstation and rejoined the meeting.

“Let’s continue,” Zhuo Jinglan said. “It’s been a long journey… please welcome our newest member, Hu Hu, to the Nine Heavens team!”

The small group applauded enthusiastically.

Everyone knew how difficult it had been to find a suitable replacement, someone who met Lou Mi’s exacting standards.

This was the third batch of trainees Zhuo Jinglan had recruited, over fifty candidates in total, all highly competitive players, some with years of professional experience.

They had all strived to join Nine Heavens, to play alongside HighTowerMiyuki.

But Lou Mi’s standards were impossibly high.

As the team captain and core player, her approval was essential.

Zhuo Jinglan, exhausted by the search, continued her efforts.

With Zhuo Jinglan frustrated, Pagoda and Xie Buyu remained cautious, avoiding any missteps.

Three months… it had taken three months…

Finally, Lou Mi had approved Hu Hu! The Nine Heavens team was almost complete!

“Return to Jianghu” matches were played in teams of four, with teams often having one or two substitute players to adapt to different opponents.

Zhuo Jinglan hadn’t slept well since Xiao V and A Bao left.

Now, finally, she could relax. She almost opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate.

Pagoda and Xie Buyu were also relieved.

Lou Mi still wasn’t entirely satisfied with Hu Hu. She found his ID, “Hu Hu,” rather silly. In-game communication relied on voice chat, and calling out “Hu Hu” made her feel like an ape.

But as long as he was skilled and compatible with the team, she wouldn’t complain.

Hu Hu, eighteen years old, was surprisingly pretty, with pale skin and slender arms, but his gameplay was aggressive and powerful.

He and Pagoda seemed like opposites, but their synergy was excellent.

The team discussed celebratory plans.

Xie Buyu: “Mi-jie, we need a team-building activity to welcome our new member!”

Pagoda: “Mi-jie’s treat!”

“Treat! Treat! Treat!”

“Team building! Team building! Team building!”

Lou Mi, never stingy, agreed. “Team building it is.”

“Yay—!”

“But we always just eat and drink. Too uncultured. Let’s do something… educational this time.”

Everyone: “?”

“Let’s go to the library,” Lou Mi said seriously. “We can read books, discuss our worldviews, and bond intellectually. That’s the best kind of team building.”

Everyone: “…”

Mi-jie, blink twice if you’re being held hostage!

Library team building? What in the world…