Category: Can We Get Married First? 

  • Can We Get Married First?  10

    Chapter 10

    Early the next morning, Lou Lixing replied to Lou Mi’s message.

    “Mimi, your Auntie and I are swamped with work and can’t get back. I know you’re busy too, but Chi Lin is still a minor and needs supervision. She’s going through a rebellious phase, so her unconventional behavior is understandable. Please be patient with her. I’m begging you. Oh, and the mattress will be delivered this afternoon. Also, didn’t you mention wanting a new car? I’ll be back in a couple of days, and we can go look at some. Your pick, I’ll pay.”

    Lou Mi, sleep-deprived, was about to nap when she saw her dad’s message.

    She was startled by the length of the text. He had typed it all out manually.

    Why was he so averse to voice messages?

    He had initially offered only a mattress, now he was throwing in a car.

    He was pulling out all the stops to bribe her into babysitting.

    Lou Mi wanted to tell him it wasn’t just a rebellious phase. It was more like a possession.

    But exhaustion won, and she didn’t reply.

    She checked her schedule. She didn’t have to be at the club until the afternoon. She could still get some sleep.

    Chi Lin, after a few hours of sleep, woke up early.

    She had a morning routine: a set of Five Elements Fist exercises to stretch and invigorate her body.

    She had noticed the spacious and beautiful backyard the previous day, with its grass, flowers, pavilion, and pond. It resonated with her.

    She went outside and performed her exercises in the fresh morning air.

    Afterward, she sat in the pavilion and meditated, her breathing steady, her mind clear.

    Back inside, unsure where to wash up, she consulted the system.

    The system displayed the house layout. The washing area was connected to the lavatory.

    The house was indeed large, with a front yard, backyard, garage, and nearly ten rooms, each serving a different function.

    She memorized the layout and entered the bathroom. The lights turned on, and she saw her reflection in the mirror for the first time.

    She had been too engrossed in reading last night to examine her appearance.

    She knew her hair was messy, but seeing it was still a shock. The red, spiky mass was twice the size of her head.

    Her makeup was equally horrifying. Black eyeshadow smudged around her eyes, fluorescent blue lipstick smeared across her lips. It had all run during the night, turning her face into a palette of colors.

    And was that a tattoo on her neck?

    In Dayuan, tattoos were reserved for criminals, marking their faces and necks with their crimes, or for courtesans, who sometimes inscribed the names of favored patrons on their bodies as a token of gratitude.

    Neither scenario was acceptable to Chi Lin.

    She rubbed the tattoo. It came off.

    Just a temporary tattoo, then. A childish whim.

    Thankfully.

    The tastes of this era’s youth were baffling.

    She washed off the makeup, but some color stubbornly remained. It was remarkably resilient.

    After scrubbing until her face was red and her hands ached, she finally achieved a semblance of cleanliness.

    She then tackled her hair, painstakingly combing the wiry strands and arranging them in a neat bun.

    Looking in the mirror, she felt transformed.

    The original owner was quite pretty, hidden beneath the outlandish makeup and hairstyle.

    Her face was small, her eyes large and bright. And there, beneath each eye, a small mole, just like Chi Lin’s own.

    Seeing the moles, Chi Lin wondered if inhabiting this body was mere coincidence or something more.

    Though her hair was now neat, its texture remained dry and brittle, the tight bun pulling at her scalp.

    She wanted to ask the system for hair care advice. As she exited the bathroom, she called out, “Teacher.” Before she could leave, the bathroom wall lit up.

    “Good morning, Chi Lin. How can I assist you?”

    Chi Lin paused. “Teacher, you’re everywhere.”

    She explained her hair problem to the system.

    The system promptly generated a shopping list.

    Conditioner, hair dye, hair straightener… total cost: 366 yuan.

    “I don’t have any money,” Chi Lin realized.

    “Yes, you do,” the system replied.

    It scanned her face, and the payment was processed.

    The order would be delivered that afternoon.

    “How did you do that?”

    The system explained the concept of facial recognition payment.

    “So I can purchase things just by showing my face?”

    “Yes.”

    “Such magic… You don’t need physical currency in this era?”

    The system explained the history and widespread adoption of electronic payments.

    Chi Lin listened intently.

    Every day in this new era brought new surprises.

    The parental control system showed she had 13,240 yuan remaining in her monthly allowance.

    After purchasing the hair products, she still had over ten thousand yuan. Financial constraints wouldn’t hinder her investigation.

    Considering the similarities between herself and the original owner, Chi Lin had a hunch the Empress’s reincarnation might be close, perhaps even at school.

    Even if not, she could start her search within familiar surroundings.

    This approach seemed more manageable and methodical.

    She had to go to school.

    She hadn’t seen Lou Mi all morning and hoped her impulsive rescue last night hadn’t angered her.

    She had applied the ointment Lou Mi gave her. It soothed her injured toe, and the pain was almost gone.

    Learning to interact with people in this era was her top priority.

    She wouldn’t bother Lou Mi. She could find her way to school on her own.

    As she walked down the street, her stomach rumbled.

    She had been so preoccupied with her hair and makeup that she had forgotten to eat.

    Clutching her stomach, she smelled the delicious aroma of scallions and eggs, a savory pancake scent.

    A few students were gathered around a street vendor, enjoying large, steaming pancakes. Chi Lin wanted one.

    “Vendor,” she said, “one… pancake, please.”

    “Coming right up! Egg and sausage?”

    “Both, please.”

    The vendor expertly prepared the pancake, wrapping it in a plastic bag.

    Chi Lin took the pancake and presented her face to the vendor.

    The vendor looked confused.

    “I’m paying,” Chi Lin explained.

    Hesitantly, the vendor held up a sign with a QR code.

    So I have to scan my face at this.

    Chi Lin leaned closer, her face inches from the QR code.

    One second, two seconds, three seconds…

    Nothing happened.

    “Miss…?” the vendor prompted.

    Chi Lin realized her mistake. “I thought I could pay with facial recognition.”

    The vendor, knowing the affluent neighborhood she came from, assumed she was accustomed to facial recognition payment and unfamiliar with QR codes.

    “It’s a small business,” he explained. “I haven’t set up facial recognition yet. You need to use the QR code.”

    “How do I use the QR code?” Chi Lin asked.

    Amused by her formal language, the vendor showed her how to use the QR code scanner on her phone.

    Chi Lin learned quickly, acquiring another new skill.

    She clasped her hands together in a gesture of thanks. “Thank you for teaching me the art of QR codes.”

    The vendor mimicked her gesture. “Is this how rich kids do it these days?”

    The pancake was crispy and delicious. Chi Lin observed other people eating as they walked and did the same, observing the passersby.

    She remembered the route Lou Mi had taken yesterday. The school was far. She couldn’t possibly walk there.

    No one rode horses in this era. Everyone traveled in cars, shielded from the elements, comfortably seated or even reclining.

    Cars were essential. She had to learn how to use them.

    Lou Mi had important work. Chi Lin couldn’t keep relying on her.

    She watched as people entered and exited vehicles. The cars would drop off passengers, pick up new ones, and drive off.

    So these cars weren’t privately owned, but shared?

    She observed the process carefully, learning the basics.

    A taxi stopped in front of her. The passenger got out, and Chi Lin got in.

    The car was spacious, with a lit-up glass screen. A voice greeted her.

    “Good morning, esteemed passenger. Please set your destination.”

    Chi Lin, having learned about artificial intelligence from the system, was prepared for this.

    “How do I get to South Lake Third High School?”

    The taxi’s navigation system offered three routes. She chose the shortest one.

    As the car started, crossing the overwater highway, Chi Lin once again admired the seascape.

    Bathed in the morning sun, her anxiety eased. She had successfully taken a taxi on her own.

    Arriving at the school, she was about to enter her classroom when her homeroom teacher called out to her.

    “Excuse me, are you in the right class?”

    Chi Lin turned and met her gaze.

    Ms. Qi, her homeroom teacher, was in her forties, slightly plump, and wore gold-rimmed glasses. She was naturally cheerful, but her students tended to take advantage of her kindness, so she had adopted a stern facade at school.

    Ms. Qi didn’t recognize her.

    “Which class are you in?” she asked. “Are you a transfer student? The administration didn’t inform me of any new students.”

    “I’m… Chi Lin,” she replied.

    “Who?!”

    Students by the window turned to look.

    Who are you?!

    “Holy crap, is that what Chi Lin looks like?”

    Curiosity got the better of them, and they crowded around the window, blocking the view.

    Students further away craned their necks to see.

    “You’re Chi Lin?” Ms. Qi asked, scrutinizing her.

    Now that she looked closer, she could see a resemblance to the delinquent she remembered.

    But today, without the makeup and outrageous hair, she was… pretty.

    Chi Lin entered the classroom, unfazed by the stares. She was used to being the center of attention. She calmly sat at her desk in the corner.

    Liu Huixin, not recognizing her, was puzzled by the sudden interest. She tugged at Chi Lin’s sleeve.

    “What did you do to your hair? Why do you look like everyone else? This isn’t you! This isn’t cool! And why aren’t you wearing any makeup? You look so pale! Did you run out of time this morning? Don’t worry, I brought my new makeup kit. You can try it now.”

    Liu Huixin excitedly presented her cosmetics, but Chi Lin politely declined.

    “Thank you, but I’m fine.”

    Liu Huixin insisted, but Chi Lin ignored her and opened her math textbook.

    Wei Zhuoning, observing them from afar, muttered, “One’s a delinquent, the other’s an idiot. The idiot seems less idiotic today, but the delinquent is still annoying…”

  • Can We Get Married First?  9

    Chapter 9

    The X-H system was installed throughout the house. Back in her room, Lou Mi asked X-H how to dissolve superglue.

    X-H promptly placed an order for superglue remover and asked for payment confirmation.

    Lou Mi confirmed, and the system scanned her face, completing the transaction. The order switched to map mode, showing the delivery route from a supermarket 1.2 kilometers away, estimated arrival time: 10 minutes.

    Ten minutes later, the security guard delivered the package.

    “Your delivery, Ms. Lou.”

    Lou Mi tried to take it, but her hands were stuck. She extended her fists. “Hang it here.”

    The guard, looking slightly perplexed, complied.

    She carried the package to her room using her forearms and tried to kick the door closed, stubbing her toe in the process. She hopped around in pain.

    What a cursed day.

    She sat on the bed and attempted to open the superglue remover. The simple act of pouring it became an exercise in frustration, as she spilled most of it.

    She managed to salvage a small amount.

    She tried to grip the bottle with her pinky and ring finger and pour it onto her glued hand.

    But the bottle was too large and slippery! She risked spilling the rest.

    Didn’t the manufacturers consider that people might need superglue remover because their hands were stuck?

    Why make such a large, unwieldy bottle?

    Frustrated, Lou Mi wondered if she was overreacting or if the universe was conspiring against her.

    Even with advanced technology, some problems remained stubbornly difficult.

    She struggled to pull a cotton swab from the container, hoping to apply the remover with it.

    She ended up pulling out a clump of swabs, scattering them across the table.

    Just as she was about to punch the table in frustration, Tiger, Chi Lin’s corgi, bounded into the room, excitedly wagging its fluffy butt and rubbing against her legs.

    “No!” Lou Mi said sternly. “I haven’t forgotten about you peeing in my cabinet! Not now, Tiger. Can’t you see I’m incapacitated?”

    Tiger, oblivious to her plight, hadn’t seen her all day and was determined to shower her with affection. It continued to nuzzle her legs, refusing to be deterred.

    Lou Mi despaired.

    She had scolded this dog countless times. Why was it so attached to her? Did it have no sense of self-preservation?

    This day had been a relentless series of misfortunes.

    As she battled her bad luck, Chi Lin passed by her room.

    “What happened?”

    “Get Tiger out of here!” Lou Mi growled.

    Chi Lin led Tiger out of the room, stroking its head. “Sister needs some alone time. Let’s not disturb her.”

    Her voice was gentle, as if speaking to a child.

    Compared to Chi Lin, Lou Mi felt like a monster.

    Soothed by Chi Lin’s words, Tiger obediently stayed out of the room.

    Chi Lin had cared for the Empress’s hunting dogs. Even the most ferocious hounds obeyed her. A docile corgi was no challenge.

    Lou Mi peeked out of her room and quickly sat up straight as Chi Lin returned.

    “Sister, may I help you?” Chi Lin asked, sensing her distress.

    Lou Mi didn’t want Chi Lin to see her in this pathetic state.

    “No,” she said.

    Chi Lin saw through her lie and entered the room. She dipped two cotton swabs in the superglue remover and carefully applied it to Lou Mi’s fingers.

    So presumptuous…

    Lou Mi would normally be annoyed. They had argued countless times over similar incidents. But this time, she couldn’t find fault. She felt a sense of relief.

    Neither of them spoke. Lou Mi sat on the bed, Chi Lin kneeling before her, completely focused on the task.

    Chi Lin didn’t ask what happened or make fun of her, which surprised Lou Mi.

    This wasn’t like Chi Lin at all.

    Chi Lin’s spiky hair occasionally brushed against Lou Mi’s nose, tickling her. She suppressed a sneeze.

    “Done,” Chi Lin said, smiling.

    Lou Mi’s hands still felt sticky, but her fingers were no longer glued together.

    She flexed her fingers. “How’s your foot? Did you use the ointment?”

    “Not yet. It doesn’t hurt much. I’ll save it for later, just in case.”

    Her foot still ached, but Chi Lin was used to injuries from her military service. A minor foot injury was nothing.

    “Don’t be stubborn. Use it now! Or you’ll use your foot as an excuse to skip school,” Lou Mi said. “Come on, I’ll get you more if you need it.”

    Chi Lin, unsure why Lou Mi seemed so impatient, said, “Don’t be angry, Sister. I’ll use it now.”

    I told you not to call me Sister… Lou Mi thought, but didn’t bother repeating herself.

    “Go ahead.”

    After Chi Lin left, Lou Mi went to wash her hands. As she returned to her room, she said, “X, what’s the weather tomorrow?”

    The AI didn’t respond.

    Lou Mi stopped, tapped the wall, and raised her voice. “X?”

    Still no response.

    “Did it break?”

    Chi Lin emerged from her room, holding a book. “Teacher, how can I purchase other books?”

    The AI lit up, responding to her voice. “You can purchase books from the following websites…”

    “Wait a minute,” Lou Mi said, pointing at the AI. “Did you rename it? ‘Teacher’?”

    That’s why it hadn’t responded to her.

    “Yes,” Chi Lin replied. “Because it’s so knowledgeable.”

    Lou Mi remembered seeing Chi Lin bowing to the wall earlier.

    She had been bowing to the AI.

    Teacher… knowledgeable…?

    Lou Mi slowly backed away, retreating to her room.

    “…Whatever makes you happy.”

    She couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning, her mind still racing.

    She picked up her phone and sent a message to the Nine Heavens team chat:

    “Anyone up for some slashing?”

    It was their code for playing “Return to Jianghu.”

    Thirty seconds later, Pagoda replied.

    “Mi-jie… it’s almost 1 am. You’re still up?”

    Lou Mi: “So, slashing or not?”

    Xie Buyu appeared: “Slashing!”

    Only the three of them remained in the group chat, along with Zhuo Jinglan. When Xiao V and A Bao were still around, the chat was constantly buzzing, 24/7.

    Now, it was much quieter.

    Lou Mi, who used to find their constant chatter annoying, now missed it. She often initiated conversations to liven things up.

    The three of them logged into the game and headed straight for the most challenging dungeon, the snowy peak.

    It was the time when the rare Snow Child might appear.

    The Snow Child was difficult to find but easy to defeat, with a high drop rate for rare equipment. It only appeared on the snowy peak, at unpredictable times.

    Lou Mi had spent months tracking its appearances, sacrificing sleep and accumulating dark circles in the process.

    She had a feeling, a champion’s intuition, that tonight, she would finally capture a Snow Child.

    Chi Lin couldn’t sleep either.

    The bed was comfortable, the room quiet and fragrant, the dim nightlight providing a sense of security.

    Anyone else, having traveled through time and endured a long day, would be fast asleep.

    But Chi Lin’s mind raced, processing the day’s events.

    Based on the information from the system, she estimated Dayuan, absent from the history books, existed approximately 500 to 800 years before the current year, 2043.

    She had also observed the night sky and located the guiding star next to the moon.

    Each glance at the star filled her with anxiety.

    Though the Preceptor had assured her she could spend as much time as needed in this era, returning to the moment she entered the lake, she couldn’t shake her worries.

    After a full day, she had found no clues. She feared unforeseen events might be unfolding in her homeland.

    Would the person behind the Empress’s murder allow the loyal ministers to resist?

    Where was General Chen’s army? Would they reach the capital safely?

    If she were orchestrating the coup, her first move would be to eliminate the remaining loyalists…

    Restless, she tossed and turned, debating whether to wait until morning to resume her search or to utilize the night as well.

    As she fretted, Tiger jumped onto the bed and curled up beside her.

    It rested its furry head on her arm, its dark eyes shining brightly in the darkness. Its adorable presence eased her anxiety.

    “Are you here to comfort me?” she whispered, stroking its head.

    Tiger licked her hand, its wet tongue tickling her skin.

    Chi Lin snuggled closer to Tiger, closing her tired eyes.

    Wandering around at night would be unproductive.

    She needed to rest and conserve her energy for tomorrow’s search.

    With Tiger’s companionship, she drifted towards sleep.

    Just as she was about to fall asleep, she heard a distant cry.

    She opened her eyes instantly.

    The cry was sharp and clear in the quiet night. Her years of military experience made her acutely aware of sounds.

    She listened intently. There it was again.

    It was Lou Mi, crying for help.

    “What the f*ck—where’s the healer?! I’m dying!”

    Lou Mi had found the Snow Child, but it came with a surprise: three Snow Demons.

    Snow Demons were among the most dreaded monsters on the snowy peak. As a damage-dealer, Lou Mi was vulnerable to their attacks. Her health was plummeting.

    Pagoda, the tank, had been stunned by the first Snow Demon, failing to draw its aggro. He was stunned again by the second demon. While Lou Mi was near death, Pagoda was still reeling from the stuns.

    Xie Buyu, the healer, had abandoned them to chase the fleeing Snow Child.

    Lou Mi: “??”

    Lou Mi: “If no one comes, I’m really going to die!”

    Xie Buyu: “The Snow Child is more important! It’ll disappear if we don’t catch it. You can respawn. We’ll give you a grand funeral!”

    Lou Mi: “…”

    Maybe Nine Heavens should just disband.

    As Lou Mi’s health reached critical levels, a loud crash startled her.

    It wasn’t an in-game sound. It came from the real world.

    Confused, she suddenly felt herself lifted into the air.

    Chi Lin, hearing her cries, had rushed to her room and found the door locked.

    No problem. She had kicked down a door before.

    Ignoring the pain, she kicked the door open, the lock flying across the room. She scooped up Lou Mi and ran.

    Lou Mi opened her eyes, bewildered by her situation and the unexpected strength of this little brat. “Put me down!”

    Real-world disturbances could affect in-game characters.

    Pagoda, finally recovering from the stuns, saw Lou Mi floating through the air and froze. What kind of new movement technique was this?

    Unintentionally, Lou Mi had avoided the Snow Demons’ attacks. She unleashed her ultimate ability, killing all three.

    Pagoda applauded. “Brilliant, Mi-jie! Your tactics are as unpredictable as ever!”

    Despite being carried like a sack of potatoes, Lou Mi’s professional instincts kicked in. She exploited the monsters’ weakness and turned the tide of the battle.

    Adrenaline pumping, Chi Lin carried Lou Mi to the kitchen island.

    “Fear not, Elder Sister! Hide here while I deal with the intruders!”

    Lou Mi grabbed her arm, glaring.

    Xie Buyu, having finally captured the Snow Child, announced her victory in the team chat and asked Lou Mi, “Mi-jie, are you okay?”

    “Fine,” Lou Mi replied, removing the access crystals. “Just a minor domestic disturbance.”

    “Who are you talking to?” Chi Lin asked.

    “My teammates… Are you addicted to kicking down doors? If you can’t sleep, read a book!”

    “Teammates?” Chi Lin looked around. “Where are they?”

    What kind of new prank was this?

    But Chi Lin seemed genuinely confused…

    And she had inadvertently saved Lou Mi’s life in the game.

    Lou Mi placed the access crystals on Chi Lin’s temples. Instantly, Chi Lin was transported into the game, facing a towering snow-capped peak, feeling the icy wind on her face.

    Chi Lin gasped.

    Lou Mi removed the crystals.

    “This… this is!” She remembered her own arrival in this era. “The same technique!”

    Lou Mi looked at Chi Lin sternly. “I was on that snowy peak. It’s dangerous. If I die, I lose hours of progress. Last time you used my account and wasted all my resources, I let it slide because of your mother. The Winter World Cup is coming up. It’s important. This might be my last season. I can’t afford any mistakes. So please, don’t mess with me.”

    Chi Lin considered her words and expression, then nodded.

    “I don’t understand everything, but I won’t bother you again.”

    Lou Mi felt a pang of something she couldn’t quite identify, directed at both Chi Lin and herself.

    Chi Lin returned to her room without another word.

    Lou Mi stared at her broken door, replaying the day’s events. Despite the late hour, she sent a message to her dad.

    She’s lost it. Not a single normal moment all day.

    Better warn them before they accuse me of driving her insane.

  • Can We Get Married First?  8

    Chapter 8

    After dinner, Chi Lin felt revitalized.

    To find the Empress, she needed to understand the rules of this era.

    The living room had a wall of books, all physical copies, some related to history.

    Chi Lin noticed the binding and text layout differed from Dayuan’s conventions, and the characters were simplified.

    She started with the history books.

    A book titled Five Thousand Years of Historical Structure listed the names of various dynasties. Chi Lin read carefully, but there was no mention of the Yuan Dynasty.

    How could this be? Dayuan had a rich history of 124 years, marked by prosperity and wise rule. It had brilliant advisors and renowned generals. Though there were internal and external troubles by the time the Empress ascended the throne, its achievements were undeniable. Why was it completely absent from history?

    “Why?” she murmured. “Why is there no record of the Yuan Dynasty?”

    Her words, though unintentional, were picked up by the X-H system. The keyword “why” triggered its question-and-answer mode.

    “Chi Lin, are you looking for information on the Yuan Dynasty?”

    Startled by the sudden voice from the wall, Chi Lin saw the sentence displayed on the screen.

    However, it said “Yuan,” not “Dayuan.” She had seen the character for “Yuan” in the textbooks today. This was different.

    “Who are you?” she asked the glowing wall.

    “I am X-H, a smart home system developed by N-T Corporation. You can call me XH, or you can give me a name you prefer.”

    “What is a smart home system?”

    “The following information is from Qiandu Encyclopedia. A smart home system utilizes advanced computer technology, network communication technology, intelligent cloud control, integrated wiring technology, medical electronic technology, based on ergonomic principles, integrating personalized needs…”

    X-H, in a pleasant female voice, patiently explained concepts beyond Chi Lin’s understanding.

    Though overwhelmed by the technical jargon, Chi Lin tried to absorb the information.

    “So, you’re not a real person, but a… system?”

    “Yes, I am different from humans. Biologically speaking, humans are of the species Homo sapiens, a highly social primate. I am a collection of program code and electronic components created by humans, a circuit with specific functions…”

    “You’re not human, yet you can converse with me?”

    “Not only can I converse, but I can also perform many other tasks.”

    Chi Lin found the system knowledgeable and organized. Though she didn’t understand “program code” or “electronic components,” she sensed this system could be a valuable source of information about this era.

    More importantly, it wasn’t human, just a machine, and unlike Liu Huixin, it didn’t ask too many questions.

    Seeking knowledge from it would minimize unnecessary complications.

    Intrigued, Chi Lin returned to the kitchen and selected “Potato Chips” from the “Snacks” menu.

    The compartment opened, presenting a plate of golden, crispy chips with a dollop of tomato sauce.

    Still no chopsticks. Undeterred, Chi Lin carried the plate back to the living room, eating the chips while engaging in a lengthy conversation with X-H.

    From dynastic changes to world wars and industrial revolutions, Chi Lin peppered X-H with questions.

    Lou Mi hadn’t slept well since her argument with Lan-jie.

    With the Winter World Cup approaching, she needed to focus on practice matches and team synergy.

    Whenever her mind wandered, Lan-jie’s words echoed in her ears, a constant reminder of her declining performance.

    She knew why Lan-jie was furious. It was the same old issue.

    She had intended to avoid the club for a few days but felt guilty about Lan-jie taking her frustration out on Pagoda and Xie Buyu.

    With Xiao V and A Bao poached by another team, Nine Heavens was a shadow of its former self. Only two veteran members remained. Lan-jie wouldn’t dare push the new trainees too hard, so Pagoda and Xie Buyu bore the brunt of her anger.

    It was all her fault, so she had to face the music.

    After dropping off Chi Lin, Lou Mi headed to the club.

    She parked in the ENIAC club garage and took the elevator to the 98th floor.

    The high-speed elevator reached the top in under a minute. Speed was everything in this era.

    Looking down from the glass windows, the city lights twinkled, and cars on the highway moved purposefully towards their programmed destinations.

    The elevator doors opened, revealing the ENIAC logo, the familiar, bold red letters.

    ENIAC, the world’s first general-purpose computer. The name had drawn her to the club, where she formed the Nine Heavens team and led them to countless victories.

    ENIAC was once her passion, a place where she had poured her heart and soul.

    But today, standing at the entrance, she felt a wave of weariness.

    She lingered by the snack counter. The receptionist hurried out, laptop in hand, and saw Lou Mi.

    “Mi-jie, you’re here!”

    Lou Mi grunted. “Is Zhuo Jinglan around?”

    “Not only is she around, she’s been waiting for you all day…”

    Lou Mi: “…”

    She scanned the reception desk for a potential weapon, just in case Zhuo Jinglan decided to attack.

    Everything was either too big or too small.

    She finally settled for a tube of superglue. If Zhuo Jinglan started her usual rant, she could glue her mouth shut.

    Zhuo Jinglan, 41, single, one of ENIAC’s major shareholders, the one who brought Lou Mi into the world of esports. Her coach, mentor, and current manager.

    Aside from her fiery temper, Lan-jie was generally a good person.

    Inside the club, the new trainees were practicing.

    They lay in specialized chairs, eyes closed, hands gripping stress balls.

    These stress balls were designed for esports athletes, converting mental pressure into grip strength during intense gameplay.

    They provided comfort and monitored brainwave activity, alerting players to take a break if their stress levels exceeded safe limits.

    The trainees greeted Lou Mi quietly, careful not to disturb their teammates.

    Lou Mi nodded in acknowledgment, still searching for Zhuo Jinglan. She turned and saw a figure looming behind her.

    She squeezed the superglue tube in her hand. It exploded.

    Lou Mi: “…”

    Zhuo Jinglan: “What’s wrong? Guilty conscience?”

    Lou Mi: “Nothing…”

    Her hand was stuck. This glue was incredibly strong.

    She tried to pry her fingers open with her left hand, but her left thumb, index, and middle fingers got glued together as well.

    What is going on?

    She shouldn’t have come…

    Zhuo Jinglan, seemingly oblivious to Lou Mi’s predicament, didn’t yell. Instead, she put an arm around Lou Mi’s shoulder and led her to her office.

    “Have you eaten?” she asked, a gentle smile on her face.

    Lou Mi: “Don’t do that. You’re scaring me.”

    Zhuo Jinglan chuckled. “Is there anything that can scare our Lou-jie?”

    “A thousand-year-old fox doesn’t eat people. It just smiles at them. Of course, I’m scared.”

    Zhuo Jinglan raised her hand as if to strike.

    “That’s the Lan-jie I know,” Lou Mi said.

    Zhuo Jinglan, too tired for banter, let her hand fall. “So, you’ve been avoiding me?”

    “Not at all,” Lou Mi replied. “It’s my dad. He and his girlfriend are on a business trip, and they left her demon spawn in my care. You’ve met that little hellion. One minute unsupervised, and she causes a million dollars’ worth of damage.”

    Zhuo Jinglan scoffed. “Your dad and your stepmom are away. Why haven’t you abandoned Chi Lin in the wilderness yet? ‘Taking care of her’? Who are you kidding?”

    Lou Mi frowned. “She’s not my stepmom. They’re not married.”

    “Not married yet, but living together. It’s only a matter of time. Same difference.”

    Lou Mi didn’t respond. Zhuo Jinglan realized she had touched a nerve.

    Lou Mi’s usual expressionless face was intimidating enough. When annoyed, her anger radiated from her eyes, a terrifying sight.

    Neither of them realized they were equally intimidated by each other.

    “Enough small talk. Have you thought about what we discussed?”

    Here it comes.

    “Retirement?” Lou Mi looked down at her glued hands.

    “You still haven’t decided?”

    Lou Mi remained silent.

    Zhuo Jinglan was about to lose her patience.

    “Wasn’t my last explanation enough? What more do you need? Fine, let’s be blunt. The lifespan of an esports athlete is getting shorter. You know this.” Zhuo Jinglan tapped her head. “The access crystals connect directly to your neurons, creating the game world within your brain. Younger brains react faster. Reaction speed is everything in esports. You’re 25. In any other profession, you’d be in your prime, maybe even a rookie. But in esports, you’re a veteran. Whether you admit it or not, it’s true. Your performance last season and in the spring practice matches speaks for itself. No matter how many championships you’ve won, if you fail this year, everyone, from the shareholders to your fans, will see you as a failure. ‘HighTowerMiyuki,’ the champion, the goddess, will be a thing of the past. A few might remember your glory days, your two consecutive years at the top, but most will only remember your downfall, your humiliating defeat. It’s better to retire now, while you still have some dignity.”

    Lou Mi felt a surge of anger. “Are you serious, Lan-jie? You want me to retire now? The club is struggling. Xiao V and A Bao are gone. We’re short-handed. If I retire now, we’re handing the championship to our rivals on a silver platter.”

    Zhuo Jinglan stubbed out her lipstick-stained cigarette, staring at Lou Mi. Reluctantly, she said, “If you retire, the team’s ranking won’t affect you. But if you stay, no matter how many teammates we lose, if we lose, it’ll all be on you. Don’t you understand?”

    Lou Mi knew Lan-jie cared about her.

    She was trying to protect her.

    But Lou Mi wasn’t ready to retire.

    She had promised to lead the team to three consecutive championships, an unprecedented feat.

    It was a promise to ENIAC, to herself, and to her fans.

    And…

    Without esports, without “Return to Jianghu,” what was left?

    Spending her days bickering with that little brat Chi Lin?

    They sat in silence.

    Zhuo Jinglan chain-smoked.

    “If you light another cigarette, I’m calling the police,” Lou Mi finally said.

    Zhuo Jinglan swore, and Lou Mi laughed.

    “Talking to you is a waste of time!” Zhuo Jinglan said, rubbing her temples.

    “Lan-jie,” Lou Mi said seriously, “I know you’re under a lot of pressure to say this. Give me one more year. One last season. I’ll retire next summer. For my own sake and for my fans.”

    Zhuo Jinglan sighed, her brow furrowed. “I’ll talk to the board.”

    Then, she couldn’t resist adding, “Lou Mi, you’re still young. Your health is important… Have you seen the doctor?”

    Lou Mi wasn’t surprised she knew. “Yes.”

    “What did they say?”

    “It’s a common esports-related condition. Nothing to worry about. Are you so eager for me to retire because you’re afraid I’ll die?”

    “Don’t be ridiculous!”

    Lou Mi laughed, a flash of youthful mischief in her eyes.

    “Alright, that’s all I wanted to say. Go home and get some rest. You look exhausted.”

    Back in her car, Lou Mi tried to set the navigation, but her hands were still stuck.

    Damn it!

    What do I do? Go to the hospital?

    But the press would have a field day.

    25-Year-Old Esports Star Glues Hands Together, Rushes to Hospital.

    How embarrassing.

    She decided to go home and consult X-H.

    Chi Lin had spent the evening talking to X-H, her throat dry.

    The influx of information was overwhelming. She had barely scratched the surface.

    But understanding the general context helped her organize the vast knowledge.

    She now understood X-H was a machine created through some extraordinary method. Though she didn’t understand the how, she was impressed by its vast knowledge, surpassing even the most learned scholars of Dayuan.

    She felt a deep sense of gratitude and respect.

    When Lou Mi arrived home, she saw Chi Lin bowing deeply to the wall, seemingly expressing her thanks.

    To the wall…

    She’s still not right in the head.

    Lou Mi slipped into the house and disappeared into her room.

  • Can We Get Married First?  7

    Chapter 7

    Lou Mi played games throughout the drive, ignoring Chi Lin. The speed was considerable, and Chi Lin busied herself finding handholds in the car.

    Having experienced the highway earlier, and with the speed slightly lower this time, she felt confident enough to observe the scenery after fastening her seatbelt.

    The cars here moved without horses or human effort. She didn’t understand the principle, but they seemed to avoid colliding even at high speeds.

    The buildings grew taller and denser, their glass facades reflecting the sunlight, creating a dazzling display.

    As they ascended an overpass, Chi Lin pressed against the window, looking down. The intersecting roads below were suspended above the sea, a daring feat of engineering.

    What kind of craftsmen could build such a city?

    This design maximized space, accommodating countless vehicles without congestion.

    Since entering the overwater highway, Chi Lin’s heart hadn’t stopped racing.

    It was her first time viewing the sea from this perspective. She was used to standing on the shore, watching the waves crash against the beach, the horizon blurring the line between sea and sky.

    The sea was even more vast and beautiful than she had imagined. The setting sun painted the surface with a golden glow, captivating her.

    The speed limit on the overwater highway was high. They exited within five minutes, feeling as though they had traveled between cities in the blink of an eye.

    After another ten minutes, they arrived in a quieter area, a town filled with trees and wide, smooth roads. The houses, though shorter than the skyscrapers, were more intricate, each standing alone.

    They shared a similar style, yet their gates and yards displayed individual character.

    A voice spoke inside the car: “Welcome home, Lou Mi. Garage 1, Garage 2, and Garage 3 are available. Please select a garage.”

    Who was speaking to Lou Mi? Chi Lin wondered. It sounded like a steward.

    In her mind, she translated the message: The steward is asking Lou Mi which stable to put the horses in.

    This method of interpretation helped her process the unfamiliar elements.

    Lou Mi selected “Garage 1.” A large white door opened, revealing a circular marking on the ground. The car slowly entered, positioning itself between two grooves.

    A blue light circled the marking clockwise, and the car began to descend.

    The car was taking an elevator!

    Chi Lin maintained a calm facade, while internally marveling at this wonder.

    The car descended into Garage 1. Once settled, the interior lights dimmed. Lou Mi got out, and Chi Lin followed.

    She had already surmised that the Lou family was wealthy. In any era, owning a luxurious house with a steward implied wealth and status.

    And a private elevator!

    It was smaller than the school elevator, accommodating about four or five people.

    Lou Mi stood in the center of the elevator, facing away from Chi Lin. Chi Lin stood in the corner, feeling like an awkward guest.

    The elevator doors opened. Chi Lin followed Lou Mi, expecting a long corridor and a meticulously landscaped garden before reaching the main hall. But the elevator opened directly into a spacious living area.

    Lou Mi entered a room, retrieved something, bypassed Chi Lin, and pressed the elevator button again, seemingly about to leave.

    “Do you have other matters to attend to, Sister?” Chi Lin asked.

    Lou Mi, still irritated by the earlier address, replied, “Can you not bother me? I have a ton of things to do at the club. If my dad wasn’t hounding me, I wouldn’t be wasting my time on you.”

    Chi Lin remained unfazed. “Please attend to your important matters, Sister. I can manage on my own.”

    Lou Mi left. Chi Lin explored the living area, which was comparable in size to the hall in her former general’s residence. Of course, it couldn’t compare to the Imperial Palace, though she hadn’t even spent a night there before being exiled.

    The living area boasted the largest glass screen she had ever seen, covering almost an entire wall.

    Alone in the house, she could indulge her curiosity. She traced the edges of the screen, searching for a power button.

    Finding none, she gave up and explored further.

    This era seemed to favor glass. Even the tables were made of it.

    The chairs were incredibly large and soft. Chi Lin resisted the urge to sink into one, mindful of her guest status. She pressed her hand against the cushion, imagining the sensation of sitting on it, likely melting into its softness.

    The people of this time lived luxuriously.

    After wandering around, admiring the decor, Chi Lin felt hungry.

    Where was the kitchen? She wanted to see how kitchens had evolved and, more importantly, eat.

    She opened every door, finding no stove, only a room resembling a kitchen, with a large refrigerator stocked with food.

    But where was the stovetop? How did one start a fire? Where was the firewood?

    “How do I get something to eat?” she muttered to herself.

    As she spoke, the wall to her left shimmered, and the kitchen lights turned on, startling her.

    “Good evening, Chi Lin. What would you like for dinner?”

    Ripples of light pulsed on the wall, accompanying the voice, which sounded similar to the steward in Lou Mi’s car. Was the steward calling her?

    This phone didn’t require her to press a button to answer. Even more convenient.

    Chi Lin approached the wall. “What are the dinner options?”

    Images of various dishes appeared on the wall, categorized as appetizers, soups, main courses, sides, and desserts.

    There were fifteen appetizers alone, many with unfamiliar names.

    Fortunately, there was a “Set Menu” option.

    The set menus were pre-designed. It was 7:35 pm, so the default was dinner, with options for “Low-Calorie Dinner,” “Chinese Dinner,” “Western Dinner,” “Japanese Dinner,” and “Thai Dinner.”

    Too many unfamiliar choices…

    “Anything is fine,” Chi Lin said. “As long as it’s filling.”

    She was interacting with “X-H,” a smart home system developed by N-T, a leading AI company. It handled various household tasks, saving time and effort.

    Cooking was one of its main features.

    After registering the voice prints of family members, X-H could receive instructions and prepare meals based on recipes and available ingredients.

    Similar kitchen assistants existed before X-H, but their culinary skills were limited. They lacked finesse and variety.

    X-H had quickly dominated the smart home market.

    Chi Lin, a visitor from the past, was now face-to-face with cutting-edge technology centuries ahead of her time.

    Upon receiving her instruction, X-H generated a menu.

    “Based on your usual dinner preferences, I’ve prepared a pork burger and iced cola. Your meal will be ready in 30 seconds. Have a pleasant evening.”

    Pork burger and iced cola? Chi Lin waited with anticipation.

    A countdown appeared on the wall. Chi Lin recognized the numerals from the math exam and from her encounters with foreign merchants in the West Market, though she wasn’t familiar with them.

    As the timer reached zero, a small square compartment next to the refrigerator opened, revealing a white plate illuminated by an orange glow.

    On the plate sat a round bread roll, sliced in half and filled with meat and vegetables, and a glass of icy, bubbling dark liquid.

    Chi Lin eyed the dark liquid with suspicion.

    This is a pork burger and cola? But… where were the chopsticks? How was she supposed to eat this?

    She peered into the compartment, assuming it was connected to the kitchen.

    “Excuse me,” she said, “where are the chopsticks?”

    No response.

    Chi Lin: “…”

    Perhaps my voice wasn’t loud enough?

    She took a deep breath and called out, “Could the chef please make an appearance?”

    The kitchen remained silent.

    Chi Lin was perplexed. Did the chef and steward avoid contact with the master of the house? How did they communicate?

    She looked back at her dinner.

    Was she supposed to eat this pork burger with her hands? That seemed improper.

    But she was alone, and her curiosity outweighed her reservations.

    She carried her dinner to the living room and sat on the sofa, carefully lifting the top bun of the burger.

    The bun was incredibly soft and fragrant.

    After examining the burger’s construction, she decided it shouldn’t be eaten separately. The two halves should be combined, enclosing the meat and vegetables.

    That’s why there were no chopsticks. They would be impractical.

    Of course, she thought, congratulating herself. I’m so clever.

    Holding the burger firmly, she took a large bite. The juicy pork, crisp vegetables, and fragrant bun combined in a burst of flavor. Delicious!

    She devoured the entire burger and turned to the glass of dark liquid.

    It was still bubbling, the glass coated with condensation. It looked very cold.

    What would it taste like?

    She sniffed it cautiously. There was no discernible scent. A bubble popped on her nose, tickling her.

    She hesitated, then took a sip.

    It was sweet and fizzy, unlike anything she had ever tasted.

    She finished the drink in one gulp, the carbonation rising, stinging her nose and making her eyes water.

    “Ah—” she gasped.

    Uncomfortable… yet strangely satisfying.

    She hiccuped for a long time afterward, her nose tingling.

    Sated, she sank into the sofa, pondering a question: Why did people in this era enjoy self-inflicted pain?

    And why was she starting to enjoy it too?

  • Can We Get Married First?  6

    Chapter 6

    Xiaoyaoyou was the first chapter of the Daoist classic Zhuangzi. Chi Lin had memorized it at the age of five.

    In her time, children of noble families were expected to be well-versed in literature. Imperial favor could save them twenty years of struggle.

    Competition at the Imperial Academy was fierce. Failure to recite classic texts led to ridicule and brought shame upon one’s family.

    Chi Lin wasn’t one to show off, but when called upon, and hearing whispers about the Cultural Festival being jeopardized, she felt compelled to perform well.

    After her recitation, the classroom fell silent. Everyone stared at her, stunned.

    Chi Lin had a slight pang of regret. Perhaps she should have made a deliberate mistake.

    “Ahem, well done,” Mr. Xia said, rare praise from him. “You should all learn from Chi Lin. She clearly put a lot of effort into memorizing this text. As I’ve told you repeatedly, nothing is impossible with hard work. Even a struggling student can surpass you. Chi Lin has shown dedication. What’s your excuse? The college entrance exam is approaching…”

    Mr. Xia continued his lecture for another five minutes after the bell rang before finally leaving.

    Liu Huixin stared at Chi Lin, bewildered. “Did you stay up all night memorizing this? Tell me, what time did you finally go to bed? It’s not like you to show off like this.”

    Chi Lin shook her head.

    Liu Huixin persisted. “Or did you skip class this morning to study secretly?”

    “My sister needed me for something this morning,” Chi Lin explained, realizing she had to offer some explanation to satisfy her persistent deskmate. “I memorized this text when I was younger, so it was easier to recall.”

    “Sister? Since when do you have a sister?” Liu Huixin was puzzled. “Hello? You’re an only child from a single-parent family. Where did this sister come from?”

    Chi Lin hadn’t shared her true circumstances with her deskmate and couldn’t elaborate.

    “Wait, do you actually have a sister? Or a sworn sister? Tell me!”

    Liu Huixin’s curiosity was insatiable. If the geography teacher hadn’t entered the classroom, she would have continued her interrogation.

    The geography teacher reviewed the previous week’s exam, explaining the answers while the students took notes.

    Chi Lin now understood the metal stylus was used to write on the glass screen, which served as the textbook.

    The paper and pen of this era were remarkably durable and reusable.

    Chi Lin imagined the cost savings this technology could bring to Dayuan.

    She opened the geography textbook, marveling at its contents.

    She had always been interested in geography, having read the Commentary on the Waterways Classic countless times. The Yuanhe Reign Period Illustrated Gazetteer and the Yuanfeng Reign Period Gazetteer of the Nine Domains had also kept her up at night.

    However, the geography of this era was vastly different.

    After a few pages, Chi Lin was filled with wonder. She didn’t know how many years had passed since Dayuan, but the people of this era clearly had a far deeper understanding of the world.

    If the Empress were here, she would be equally amazed and fascinated.

    They would study together, explore together, sparking new ideas.

    The thought of the Empress brought a pang of sadness.

    She had followed the Empress’s soul to this strange new time, a romantic notion, a flicker of hope for restoring her kingdom.

    But where was the Empress?

    The Preceptor had said some of the Empress’s characteristics might be retained, even an identifying mark.

    At the time, it had sounded like hope. Now, it seemed like mere consolation.

    The bustling cities and vast population of this era were beyond anything imaginable in Dayuan.

    She couldn’t search blindly. She needed a starting point.

    Inhabiting the body of someone with the same name might be a stroke of luck, a sign that the Empress had indeed brought some clue from her past life…

    Lost in thought as she took notes, Chi Lin unconsciously held the stylus like a calligraphy brush.

    She sat upright, posture impeccable, her strokes elegant and precise.

    Liu Huixin, busy texting under her desk, didn’t notice. Wei Zhuoning, sitting across the aisle, stared at Chi Lin as if she were a strange creature.

    “What’s with her now?”

    During lunch, Liu Huixin dragged Chi Lin to a small restaurant near the school.

    The restaurant catered to students, offering quick and cheap rice bowls.

    They ordered using facial recognition and sat at their usual table. Liu Huixin scrolled through the school forum on her phone, gossiping about the basketball team and the school heartthrob.

    Chi Lin barely listened, preoccupied with her search for the Empress.

    The afternoon consisted of math and English exams.

    Chi Lin stared at the math paper, bewildered by the unfamiliar symbols.

    The English exam was even more baffling. Why was this era so focused on the language of foreigners?

    She handed in both exams practically blank, a first in her life. A humiliating experience.

    Thankfully, her family couldn’t witness this disgrace.

    At least the original owner’s poor academic record provided cover.

    School ended at 6 pm. The English teacher kept them a few minutes longer. Chi Lin left the school at 6:15.

    As they entered the elevator, Chi Lin felt a vibration in her pocket. She pulled out the “phone.” Three large characters appeared on the screen: “Big Mimi.”

    Throughout the day, she had observed her classmates using their phones, making calls and sending messages. She understood the name on the screen indicated the caller. The phone was like a long-distance speaking tube, a remarkable device.

    Chi Lin didn’t know who “Big Mimi” was. It sounded like a nickname.

    Mimicking what she had seen, she pressed the “Answer” button. A voice filled the phone.

    “Are you out yet?”

    It was Lou Mi’s voice, clear and close. Amazing!

    “Yes, I’m out,” Chi Lin replied, feeling slightly awkward using this device for the first time. It felt like talking to herself.

    “Meet me at the convenience store two blocks left of the school gate.”

    Before Chi Lin could respond, the call ended.

    Liu Huixin leaned in, curious. “Who was that? Your sworn sister?”

    Chi Lin had already experienced the elevator’s descent and remained calm this time.

    Liu Huixin resumed her questioning. Chi Lin, not wanting to reveal anything personal, steered the conversation towards the school heartthrob.

    As expected, Liu Huixin launched into a detailed account of his exploits.

    As they exited the elevator, Chi Lin wondered if she should continue associating with this inquisitive child. It was rather tiring.

    Following Lou Mi’s directions, even without knowing what a “convenience store” was, she spotted Lou Mi’s car parked down the street.

    As she approached, Lou Mi had already opened the car doors.

    Remembering the window incident, Chi Lin felt a twinge of embarrassment.

    Lou Mi was wearing the access crystals, eyes closed, arms crossed, leaning back in her seat, her foot twitching occasionally.

    Chi Lin didn’t want to disturb her, grateful that she had come to pick her up.

    She quietly sat in the passenger seat. The door, now repaired, closed automatically.

    Lou Mi was still immersed in her game. Chi Lin remained silent.

    The passing scenery kept Chi Lin entertained.

    The enclosed car was comfortable, cool and not dry, with a pleasant fragrance.

    Chi Lin liked the scent.

    After descending the snowy peak in her game, Lou Mi found an inn to rest and checked the time. Where’s that brat? she wondered.

    She removed the access crystals and saw Chi Lin sitting beside her.

    “Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked, setting the car’s navigation to “Home.”

    “I didn’t want to interrupt your game.”

    Lou Mi thought she detected a hint of gentle amusement in Chi Lin’s smile, the kind a benevolent elder might bestow upon a younger relative.

    …Is she still playing a role?

    But this version of Chi Lin was far less annoying than the destructive little monster she was used to.

    Lou Mi felt a flicker of hope.

    Whatever had caused this change, if Chi Lin maintained this behavior, Lou Mi would make a pilgrimage to the temple to offer thanks.

    The Bodhisattva at Lingchun Palace was truly powerful, subduing even a demon like Chi Lin.

    Seeing the hint of a smile on Lou Mi’s face, Chi Lin knew they had made progress.

    Whether at school or home, building good relationships was crucial.

    Strong relationships facilitated access to information. Chi Lin understood this well.

    “Big Mimi,” she said, “what are we having for dinner?”

    Lou Mi, about to start the car, froze, wondering if she had misheard.

    “What did you just call me?”

    Her smile vanished, replaced by a menacing glare.

    Chi Lin’s face stiffened.

    So… “Big Mimi” wasn’t Lou Mi’s nickname…

    What had she said wrong this time?

    Lou Mi grabbed Chi Lin by the back of the neck. “Say that again. I dare you.”

    Chi Lin recoiled, shaking her head. “I won’t.”

    Lou Mi shoved her away, face flushed. “If I ever hear you call me that again, I’ll skin you alive!”

    Chi Lin mumbled an apology.

    As she drove off, Lou Mi unconsciously adjusted her collar.

    The fragile peace had shattered. Chi Lin felt exhausted. This era was difficult. A single day felt like a century…

    What did “Big Mimi” even mean…?

    ***

    T/N:

    眯眯(Mimi): myopic person

    咪咪(Mimi): Alternative form

    In its alternative Chinese form, “Mimi” can also mean “kitty” or, in slang, “breast”.

    Reference

  • Can We Get Married First?  5

    Chapter 5

    They arrived at Class 6, Grade 10 during break time.

    Exhausted from a morning of classes and quizzes, the students were listless, napping or flirting with their crushes.

    Chi Lin noticed each student had their own desk and chair. The style and material were different from the Imperial Academy, and even the posture was different, but the individual seating arrangement was similar.

    She scanned the room and spotted an empty desk in the corner.

    There was a broom next to it and a few bins filled with trash. It didn’t look very clean.

    A girl with a ponytail at the neighboring desk saw Chi Lin and waved cheerfully.

    “You finally made it!”

    Chi Lin concluded that the corner desk was hers.

    People in this era sat differently.

    Chi Lin was used to kneeling, while they sat on high chairs, legs casually positioned.

    It looked comfortable, but also undisciplined.

    To avoid standing out, Chi Lin mimicked them, sitting on the chair.

    She couldn’t very well kneel on it.

    She took off her backpack and tried to stuff it into the drawer, but it was already overflowing.

    Carefully, she removed the contents.

    A pile of snack wrappers, discarded electronics… Chi Lin couldn’t identify most of the items. Then, from the depths of the drawer, she pulled out a pot. That, she recognized.

    A pot… in a classroom?

    It seemed the Dean was right. This student was indeed undisciplined, bringing a cooking pot to school.

    The pot slipped from Chi Lin’s grasp and clattered to the floor.

    Mr. Xia, the Chinese teacher, had just entered the classroom. Hearing the clang, his face darkened.

    “Who’s so hungry they couldn’t wait to get their dinnerware out?”

    The class erupted in laughter. Mr. Xia made eye contact with Chi Lin and understood immediately.

    He placed his digital pen and tablet on his desk.

    “Let me remind certain students that even if they don’t care about their own education, they shouldn’t disrupt others. This is a classroom, not a hot pot restaurant. You’ll have plenty of time for hot pot when you’re expelled.”

    Everyone knew who he was talking about and cast amused glances at Chi Lin.

    Though she was in the body of a teenager, with an absurd appearance, her soul was that of a thirty-two-year-old veteran of court politics. She had held numerous important positions: scholar, minister, general, Empress. She had experienced exile. Her life had been far more eventful than most people would experience in two lifetimes.

    Now, in this strange era, sitting among children, her perspective was different.

    Neither the children’s nor the teacher’s mockery fazed her.

    The girl who had waved was Liu Huixin, her deskmate.

    She picked up the pot, placed it back in the drawer, and whispered, “Don’t mind them. You do you. It’s almost autumn, time to nourish yourself.”

    She gave Chi Lin a bright smile.

    Chi Lin saw the genuine kindness in her smile. She needed a way into this new world. Her deskmate, with whom she would spend the most time, was the perfect source of information.

    This connection seemed promising.

    Mr. Xia instructed the class to turn to page 23, lesson 7.

    Chi Lin didn’t move. She had nothing to turn to.

    Her backpack contained only cosmetics and electronic devices, no books.

    And her desk held only junk and a pot.

    Yet, she wasn’t the only one empty-handed. None of the other students had textbooks. When the teacher mentioned page 23, they all looked down and tapped their desks with metal styluses.

    Chi Lin realized she had reached another knowledge boundary. She discreetly observed her deskmate.

    Liu Huixin pressed a button on her desk, and a glass screen lit up.

    Chi Lin recognized it. It was similar to the screens at the internet cafe, just smaller.

    Liu Huixin’s photo and name appeared on the screen. Chi Lin memorized them.

    Imitating Liu Huixin, she pressed the button and swiped the screen with her stylus.

    To her delight, the screen offered not only games but also textbooks.

    She wasn’t sure what “Chinese” entailed in this era, but it likely pertained to language and literature.

    She quickly browsed the textbook, her excitement growing. It contained many classic works she knew.

    From Li Sao to Short Songs and Preface to the Poems Composed at the Orchid Pavilion, they were all here.

    She was moved that even in this technologically advanced future, students still studied these classics.

    However, the simplified characters posed a slight challenge.

    They differed from the traditional characters she was accustomed to.

    Some were simplified versions of traditional characters, while others were phonetic substitutions.

    As a scholar of the Five Classics, Chi Lin quickly discerned the patterns. Even with guesswork, she could understand the meaning.

    Engrossed in the textbook, she read passage after passage.

    Besides familiar classics, there were also many unfamiliar, modern works.

    Their themes and emotions intrigued her. She read intently, oblivious to her surroundings, until Liu Huixin nudged her. She looked up, startled, and heard Mr. Xia calling her name.

    “Chi Lin!” Mr. Xia’s voice was sharp. “Are you asleep again?”

    Chi Lin met his gaze, the entire class watching with a mixture of amusement and despair.

    She had a bad habit of losing herself in a good book.

    She hadn’t heard a word the teacher said.

    Yesterday, Mr. Xia had assigned homework, including reading and memorizing the entire Xiaoyaoyou.

    The dreaded moment had arrived.

    Every student knew the difficulty of memorizing Xiaoyaoyou.

    The teachers had conspired to assign a mountain of homework last night. Many students had stayed up late, dreading the daunting task of memorizing this ancient text.

    During morning reading, they had shared their struggles, lamenting their inability to retain the complex prose.

    And Mr. Xia was notorious for his surprise inspections and devious methods.

    Reciting one by one? In their dreams.

    He preferred a more unpredictable approach.

    Today, he used the Cultural Festival as leverage.

    “Are you all looking forward to the Cultural Festival next month?” he asked with a smile, after finishing the day’s lesson.

    Wary of his cunning, the students remained silent, afraid to fall into his trap.

    The Cultural Festival was an annual event at South Lake Third High School.

    Except for the graduating class, all students could participate or watch performances organized by their classes.

    With the increasing pressure of academics, the Cultural Festival was a rare opportunity for Grade 10 students to relax before the hell of Grade 11. They had been eagerly anticipating it since the start of the semester.

    With only a month left and program selections underway, Mr. Xia dropped the bomb.

    “Your participation in the Cultural Festival depends on your performance today. If you can recite Xiaoyaoyou, you can participate. If not, I’ll report it to your homeroom teacher. Several teachers, myself included, believe your grades are suffering because you’re not focused on your studies. Last month, Class 6 ranked last in the entire grade, by a significant margin. With such poor academic performance, you should be studying, not wasting time on the Cultural Festival. I’m sure your homeroom teacher and the grade level director will agree.”

    A few disgruntled murmurs rippled through the class. A faint “What the f*ck” could be heard from the back.

    Mr. Xia began calling out names, each student reciting a section of Xiaoyaoyou. He would interrupt them randomly and call on another student to continue.

    The recitation would continue until the entire text was complete. A single mistake would jeopardize their participation in the Cultural Festival.

    This method was nerve-wracking. Anyone could be called on, and no one knew which section they would have to recite.

    “Alright, everyone, look at me. No more last-minute cramming,” Mr. Xia said. “Qi Yong.”

    The first student was lucky. The opening passage was the easiest.

    Qi Yong stood and recited flawlessly:

    “In the Northern Darkness there is a fish, and its name is Kun. The Kun is so huge I don’t know how many thousands of li it is across. It transforms into a bird whose name is Peng. The back of the Peng measures I don’t know how many thousands of li across; when it rises up and flies off…”

    “Good. Sit down. Wei Zhuoning.”

    Wei Zhuoning clenched her fists. Perfect! I fell asleep last night right after memorizing this part!

    A flicker of memory remained as she stood, but she stammered as she began:

    “When it rises up and flies off, its wings are like clouds all across the sky… This bird, when the sea begins to move, intends to migrate to… the Southern Darkness. The Southern Darkness—that is the Pool of Heaven. Qixie… is a book… of strange tales…”

    She managed to squeeze out the last few words, her mind completely blank after that.

    Fortunately, Mr. Xia let her sit down and called on the next student.

    Everyone was trembling. The further the recitation progressed, the higher the chance of failure, of becoming the class pariah.

    This was the most terrifying moment for Class 6, Grade 10.

    Two more students struggled through their sections, one making a mistake. Mr. Xia glared at him.

    “Are you sure about that?”

    With covert help from classmates, the student corrected himself.

    Mr. Xia smiled coldly. “Your helpfulness is misplaced.”

    Damn. Don’t let those four eyes fool you. He’s sharp.

    “That’s not helpfulness,” Mr. Xia continued. “That’s cheating. Can you help him for the rest of his life? In the real world, you have to rely on yourself. Abandon this mentality of getting something for nothing. Take a good look at yourselves…”

    As he lectured, he noticed the girl with the ridiculous hair in the corner looking down.

    Hadn’t he told them to look up and stop cramming?

    “Chi Lin.” Mr. Xia’s sharp gaze pierced through his thick lenses.

    It was over.

    The class’s hopes plummeted.

    Of all people, why Chi Lin? Was Mr. Xia deliberately trying to sabotage their chances of enjoying the Cultural Festival?

    Chi Lin, perpetually last in the class. Her position was unshakeable.

    In all subjects, her scores barely reached double digits, except for the humanities, where she managed a 43, and Chinese, a 32.

    Even the homeroom teacher was puzzled by her abysmal performance.

    Even random guessing should yield better results.

    As Chi Lin slowly stood, her dazed expression confirmed everyone’s fears. She didn’t know it.

    It was a disaster.

    After single-handedly dragging down the class average in the monthly exams, Chi Lin was about to ruin their Cultural Festival.

    Chi Lin looked bewildered. Mr. Xia, anticipating this, chuckled and even gave her a hint.

    “And now the water doesn’t gather thickly enough to support a large boat without sinking. Continue from there. Just one more sentence, and you pass.”

    Wei Zhuoning, sitting across the aisle, saw Liu Huixin whispering to Chi Lin, “A cup of water… a cup of water!”

    Wei Zhuoning rolled her eyes.

    Liu Huixin didn’t know if Chi Lin had heard. The entire class was staring at them with a mixture of anxiety and anger.

    Liu Huixin discreetly opened Chi Lin’s tablet to the Xiaoyaoyou page, hoping she would cheat.

    Mr. Xia, peering between the heads of the students in front, spotted this.

    He was about to reprimand Chi Lin for cheating when Chi Lin calmly closed the tablet.

    Liu Huixin: “?”

    Chi Lin began to recite, slowly and clearly:

    “Overturn a cup of water in a hollow in the floor, and a mustard seed can float on it as a boat. But place the cup there and it will stick fast, because the water is shallow and the boat is large…

    “Small understanding does not reach great understanding, any more than a short lifespan can compare with a long one…

    “…Therefore it is said, ‘The Perfect Man has no self; the Holy Man has no merit; the Sage has no name.’”

    Without hesitation, Chi Lin recited the entire passage to the very last word.

    Mr. Xia hadn’t even had a chance to stop her.

  • Can We Get Married First?  4

    Chapter 4

    Another episode.

    Lou Mi stared at Chi Lin’s explosive hair and atrocious makeup, which she called “avant-garde.” Confirming it was indeed her dad’s girlfriend’s delinquent daughter, she started the car.

    She set the destination: South Lake Third High School.

    The self-driving car accelerated, and Chi Lin’s eyes widened slightly.

    This carriage moved without horses!

    The vast archives of the Hanlin Academy in Dayuan Dynasty did contain records of ingenious contraptions from previous dynasties, “self-propelled vehicles not reliant on wind or water.” There were even automatic wine pourers and self-fishing tools. Chi Lin, always curious, had built these devices herself. They worked, but their speed and smoothness couldn’t compare to this metallic vehicle.

    Chi Lin noticed a curved screen in front of Lou Mi’s seat, flashing with colorful lights and unfamiliar symbols.

    Lou Mi seemed accustomed to the self-driving feature. Unfazed by the speed, she attached the metal pieces—the access crystals—to her temples, closed her eyes, and occasionally muttered something, looking somewhat unsettling.

    The car sped up, reaching a velocity that made Chi Lin’s heart pound. It carried her into this strange new world.

    They merged onto a straight road, other vehicles whizzing past at alarming speeds.

    Elevated roads crisscrossed the sky, a dense network of layers stacked high above.

    This intricate and precarious structure was supported by pillars of an unknown material.

    Countless vehicles converged at intersections. Each time, Chi Lin braced for a collision, certain of imminent destruction, only for the cars to narrowly avoid each other, continuing unscathed.

    Though the ride was smooth and quiet, the unprecedented visual assault through the large windshield made Chi Lin’s heart race.

    The speed increased, becoming almost unbearable.

    Any desire to observe this new era vanished. Chi Lin felt nauseous.

    Another sharp turn sent her lurching against the seatbelt. Instinctively, she grabbed Lou Mi.

    Lou Mi, battling monsters on the snowy peak in “Return to Jianghu,” was startled by the sudden tug. Her in-game character slipped and tumbled onto her teammate, Pagoda.

    Pagoda, half his face buried in the snow, dared not move. “Mi-jie, what… what strategy is this?”

    Lou Mi flipped her character upright, ripped off the access crystals, and turned to scold Chi Lin, only to notice her pale face.

    “Carsick?”

    Lou Mi panicked. She couldn’t let Chi Lin vomit in her beloved car! She had just replaced the floor mats last month with a limited-edition design she’d begged a friend to procure. They could not be tainted with vomit!

    She immediately changed lanes, exiting the highway and slowing down to a more manageable speed.

    She offered Chi Lin a bottle of water from the car’s mini-fridge. “Better?”

    With the reduced speed, Chi Lin’s senses gradually adjusted to the high velocity. She nodded sheepishly and murmured, “Thank you.”

    She took the water bottle but couldn’t open it.

    She didn’t struggle. She realized even water bottles were different in this era. To avoid revealing her origins, she handed it back.

    Lou Mi frowned. “What now?”

    “Could you please open it, Elder Sister? My hands are a bit weak.”

    “…I’ll open it if you stop calling me that.”

    Chi Lin was at a loss.

    Lou Mi was older. If not “Elder Sister,” what should she call her?

    Her name directly? That seemed too disrespectful.

    Lou Mi easily twisted the cap open.

    Chi Lin’s eyes lit up. So the cap twisted, not pulled. Another mental note.

    They arrived at South Lake Third High School. Lou Mi parked at the gate.

    To prevent another acrobatic display, she quickly pressed the button to open the passenger door automatically.

    “After you,” she said.

    Chi Lin felt a wave of embarrassment.

    So the door was big enough to walk through normally. No need for acrobatics…

    Her actions must have seemed utterly ridiculous to Lou Mi.

    Well, what’s done is done.

    Chi Lin blushed and got out of the car.

    “Hey,” Lou Mi called after her. “I don’t care what tricks you’re planning, but save them for when they get back, understand? I don’t have time for your nonsense.”

    They? Chi Lin wondered. Her parents?

    Lou Mi was about to drive off when Chi Lin called out, “Elder Sister!”

    Lou Mi: “…”

    She lowered the window, glaring. “Didn’t I tell you to stop calling me that?”

    It was mortifying.

    Chi Lin gestured towards the school. “Which room are my sleeping quarters?”

    She was fortunate to inhabit the body of someone with the same name, a young lady from a wealthy family, judging by the grandeur of this estate.

    Lou Mi was baffled. “Thinking about sleeping before you even attend class?”

    “Attend class?” Chi Lin murmured, surprised. “So this is a school.”

    Lou Mi sighed. “…Can you speak normally?”

    “How do I return home after class?” Chi Lin asked.

    Lou Mi was exasperated. Chi Lin had always been prone to theatrics, but today was a new level of bizarre.

    She paused, then said, “I’ll pick you up at 6:30. Behave yourself in class.”

    Reassured, Chi Lin nodded.

    “And one more thing.” Lou Mi, who had already started to close the window, opened it again and tossed a small white box. Chi Lin caught it.

    Lou Mi was impressed by her reflexes.

    “Ointment. For your foot. Don’t run around and make things worse.”

    The excitement of the car ride had distracted Chi Lin from her injury.

    Lou Mi hadn’t mentioned it, so Chi Lin assumed she hadn’t noticed. But she had.

    This sister, surprisingly, was kind.

    Chi Lin smiled, about to thank her, but Lou Mi had already driven off.

    Chi Lin walked towards the school. Classes were in session after morning exercises.

    She was alone at the gate, except for the security guard watching her from the booth.

    As she approached, a beep sounded, and her face appeared on a black screen on the wall, along with a line of red text: “Chi Lin, Class 6, Grade 10, Late by 134 minutes.” Then, the gate opened.

    These devices were everywhere. Her identity was readily apparent wherever she went.

    What an unsettling world.

    Chi Lin entered the school grounds and stared at the two curved, multi-story buildings. She felt dwarfed by their imposing presence.

    Class 6, Grade 10… a room number. She didn’t know where it was, but she could find it eventually.

    Should she start with the left building or the right?

    As she hesitated, she felt a warm breath on her neck.

    Someone was behind her!

    Chi Lin had served in the army at the Empress’s behest, aiming for promotion through meritorious service.

    Though only in her early thirties, she was a seasoned veteran. Someone appearing behind her triggered an instinctive reaction.

    She was about to strike when reason prevailed.

    Her hand stopped just inches from the neck of the bespectacled, middle-aged woman behind her.

    No, she couldn’t just assault people in this era…

    The stern-faced woman adjusted her glasses and glared at Chi Lin.

    “Skipping class, bullying classmates, causing trouble, and now you’re trying to assault the Dean of Students?”

    Dean of Students? A title. Someone in charge of the students.

    “I wouldn’t dare,” Chi Lin apologized quickly.

    The Dean’s voice rose sharply. “Wouldn’t dare? Is there anything you wouldn’t dare to do? Chi Lin, Class 6, Grade 10, correct? Do you have any idea how notorious you are in this school? The school explicitly forbids dyeing or perming hair. Did you leave the school rules and your homework at home again?”

    The Dean’s words confirmed Chi Lin’s suspicions. She had assumed her extravagant hairstyle was common in this era, but apparently not.

    “Your grades are at the bottom, yet you’re always causing trouble. Do you think a call home is all it’s going to take?” The Dean narrowed her eyes. “Your mother works so hard to send you here, and how do you repay her? With a withdrawal notice? How can you do this to your family? To yourself?”

    The Dean, often mocked by students for being old-fashioned, never imagined her usual lecture would actually resonate with someone.

    But every word struck a chord with Chi Lin.

    Though she had never met the original owner’s mother, she felt a pang of sympathy.

    As the Dean continued her tirade, Chi Lin bowed deeply.

    “I will heed your guidance, Teacher. I will dedicate myself to my studies and strive for improvement. I will not disappoint you or my parents.”

    The Dean was speechless.

    “Well… you certainly have a way with words. If you put that effort into your studies, maybe you could pass your next Chinese exam!”

    Chi Lin bowed again. “You are right, Teacher.”

    “Just… go to class,” the Dean said, still slightly bewildered.

    “Please, lead the way, Teacher.”

    The Dean: “…”

    There’s something definitely strange about this student.

  • Can We Get Married First?  3

    Chapter 3

    Lou Lixing faltered, but he had to press on. Chi Lin had been caught by the police and wouldn’t be released without a guardian.

    He explained the situation to Lou Mi.

    “Wow, skipping school to go to an internet cafe, fighting and kicking down doors. Pretty impressive. If she’s that tough, what can a few cops do? I bet she’ll blast her way out with a rocket launcher any minute now.”

    Lou Lixing was on a business trip, about to start a video conference. His subordinates hovered nearby, eager to discuss the meeting, while he, hair slicked back, face stern, had to secretly plead with his daughter for help.

    He maintained the imposing demeanor of a judge, yet his words were soft.

    “Please, Mimi. I’m begging you. I’ll make it up to you when I get back. I promise I’ll discipline Chi Lin.”

    “Right. You’ve practically got a template for those empty promises. You may not be tired of saying them, but I’m tired of hearing them.”

    “Yes, yes, I always get tongue-tied around you. It’s because I love you the most.”

    “…Are you trying to butter me up again? Just stick to the script.”

    Lou Lixing ushered his team into the conference room. He stood by the door, pleading with Lou Mi until his throat was dry, then heard the sound of a car door closing.

    “Mimi, are you going out?”

    “What do you think?” Lou Mi fastened her seatbelt.

    “Where are you going?”

    “To pick up your precious girlfriend’s precious daughter, of course. Otherwise, my day will be ruined.”

    Lou Lixing felt a wave of relief. He knew his daughter well. Mimi was all bark and no bite.

    “Thank you, my dear. You’re the best daughter in the world. I’ve already ordered that limited-edition mattress you wanted. It’ll be delivered tomorrow afternoon.”

    Lou Mi put on her sunglasses and smirked. “Brown-noser.”

    Chi Lin sat on the internet cafe’s sofa, rubbing her leg. This body was incredibly weak, clearly unused to exercise. A simple kick had left her aching.

    While tending to her injury, she continued to observe her surroundings.

    The room was large, with a central area filled with tables and chairs, and several enclosed booths.

    She had been in one of those booths earlier.

    Upstairs, there were so-called VIP rooms, seemingly larger and more luxurious, commanding a higher price.

    People in this era rarely used physical currency. She saw no silver or copper coins, no banknotes. They simply used facial recognition for transactions. Every shop likely had a device like the one the female officer carried.

    This was a place of entertainment, judging by the young people coming and going.

    She couldn’t see inside the booths, but they apparently offered holographic games. Those metal pieces, placed on the temples, allowed one to travel to another dimension.

    This ability was similar to the Preceptor’s Soul-Chasing Secret Art, yet here, it required only two metal pieces, while the Preceptor paid with his life.

    She wondered what the Preceptor would think.

    Besides the holographic games, she saw rows of tables with large glass screens in the main area. These were called “traditional games.”

    Traditional games didn’t require the metal pieces. One simply sat down and played, at a seemingly lower cost. If she had been playing a traditional game earlier, she might not have been so disoriented. The images were confined to the screen, the characters flat and easily distinguishable. And her foot wouldn’t be hurting so much…

    This era was beyond her comprehension. Even games were so advanced. What other wonders awaited her outside?

    The male officer updated the cafe’s network security system. The female officer stood by the door, watching as a car pulled up and a tall woman stepped out.

    As Lou Mi entered the cafe, two young men near the entrance froze, whispering:

    “Am I seeing things? Does that woman look like…?”

    “Holy crap, Lou-jie?!”

    “No way! It’s HighTowerMiyuki?!”

    Who would have thought a legendary esports star would appear in this small internet cafe?

    The entire cafe erupted. People poured out of the booths and VIP rooms, snapping pictures, even livestreaming.

    Lou Mi: “…”

    The female officer was also surprised. “Who is that? A celebrity?” she asked her partner.

    The male officer was a “Return to Jianghu” player and a fan of Lou Mi. He never missed her streams. Seeing his goddess in person, even more stunning than online, his knees almost buckled.

    But he had to maintain his composure on duty. “You don’t know her? She’s an esports god! A once-in-fifty-years talent! Beautiful, skilled, everyone calls her Lou-jie.”

    The female officer raised an eyebrow. “Play fewer games and do more work.”

    The male officer mumbled, “But you asked…”

    It was all her dad’s fault. She had forgotten to wear a mask in her haste.

    She had hesitated before getting out of the car, but figured she could just quickly pick up the girl and leave discreetly.

    She had kept her sunglasses on, but…

    This internet cafe was surprisingly crowded…

    Chi Lin was also taken aback by the commotion. Who was this person, causing such a stir? A celebrity of this era?

    The female officer approached Lou Mi. “Are you Chi Lin’s older sister?”

    Lou Mi replied, “I’m her mother’s boyfriend’s daughter.”

    The officer processed this. “So, still her older sister. The thing is, she’s only 17, a minor. It’s against the law for minors to enter Class B entertainment venues. Not only did she enter this internet cafe, she also assaulted someone and damaged property. She should be detained…”

    The officer launched into a lengthy lecture. Mid-sentence, she noticed a timer running on Lou Mi’s phone screen, accompanied by a voice recording indicator.

    “Miss, are you recording me?”

    Lou Mi saved the recording. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to use it against you. I’m just recording this for her mother. I’m sure she’ll know how to handle this. Now, can we go?”

    “Sign here,” the officer said. “The damages will be deducted directly from her guardian’s account.”

    Lou Mi signed neatly on the digital screen, her face automatically scanned by the device.

    As she put down the stylus, she said, “Chi Lin.”

    Chi Lin immediately stood up.

    “Let’s go.”

    While they were talking, Chi Lin’s foot throbbed, preventing her from approaching. She had vaguely heard the word “sister.”

    Could this person, the cause of all the excitement, be the older sister of this body’s original owner?

    Chi Lin limped forward and bowed respectfully.

    “Thank you for your trouble, Elder Sister.”

    Lou Mi: “…”

    What did I just hear?

    For two years, this little hellion had made her life miserable, addressing her with a disrespectful “Hey!” Now, this troublemaker, the epitome of rudeness, was calling her “Elder Sister”?

    Lou Mi removed her sunglasses and scrutinized Chi Lin.

    Chi Lin stood respectfully, looking like an innocent little mouse.

    Who are you?

    Lou Mi turned to the police. “What did you do to her?”

    The male officer quickly denied any wrongdoing. “We didn’t do anything! Just a little talking-to. The body cam was on the whole time. You can’t accuse us of anything!”

    As they left the internet cafe, Lou Mi was surrounded by fans, peppering her with questions about the Winter World Cup, the impact of Xiao A and A Bao leaving the Nine Heavens team, the progress of new member selection, and her confidence in winning the championship this year.

    Lou Mi was taken aback. These players’ questions were as sharp as any professional reporter’s.

    “There will be a live press conference next week,” she announced. “Ask your questions then, and I’ll answer them all.”

    Finally breaking free, she led Chi Lin to the car.

    Chi Lin observed Lou Mi putting her sunglasses back on. The original owner’s sister was even more popular than she had imagined.

    Having a famous sister in this strange era gave Chi Lin a sense of security.

    Lou Mi got into the car. Seeing Chi Lin still standing by the door, she lowered the passenger window, stuck her head out, and said coldly, “How long are you planning to stand there? Haven’t you caused me enough trouble already?”

    Chi Lin: “…”

    This person was fierce. The relationship between these sisters seemed different from what she had expected.

    Chi Lin wanted to get in, but the vehicle, though spacious, had no horses pulling it.

    Could it be self-propelled?

    If so, why was the door so small?

    Chi Lin stared at the car window, puzzled.

    Not only was the door small, it was also waist-high. How was she supposed to get in?

    Lou Mi had forgotten that the automatic passenger door was malfunctioning and often needed to be opened manually.

    Used to being alone in her car, she often forgot to get it fixed.

    Just as she reached for the door handle, Chi Lin ducked, and like a seal slipping into water, slid through the open window and landed gracefully in the passenger seat.

    Lou Mi stared, dumbfounded by this bizarre maneuver.

    Chi Lin sat up straight, smoothing her clothes.

    Thankfully, I’ve trained in martial arts since childhood. A high car door is no obstacle.

    Lou Mi looked at her with an expression of utter bewilderment.

    Chi Lin tilted her head, confused. “?”

  • Can We Get Married First?  2

    Chapter 2

    Chi Lin was still captivated by the novel surroundings when a sharp pain shot through her wrist as the person she was holding forcefully pulled away.

    “Sis, it’s just a game, no need to get so worked up,” the young man, one eye now bruised purple, said peevishly, gesturing behind Chi Lin. “You kicked the door off its hinges! Doesn’t your foot hurt?”

    His words jogged Chi Lin’s memory. She had kicked the door. That explained the throbbing pain.

    But why had she seen herself kicking an assassin?

    The young man pointed at the surrounding people and scolded, “And you lot! I tank for you in games, but when there’s trouble in real life, you all run away like cowards! How could I have such useless teammates?”

    Chi Lin was startled again. This young man, barely past twenty, had several children old enough to be her teammates?

    And how had the scenery changed so completely in an instant?

    She turned and noticed two metal pieces on the floor.

    Picking them up, she examined them closely. They were smooth and sleek, with a striking sheen. Could they be…?

    Chi Lin looked at the young man. “Did you remove these from my temples?”

    The young man blinked. “Temples? What are you talking about?”

    Chi Lin leaned closer, and the young man instinctively recoiled.

    “What are these?” Chi Lin held up the metal pieces.

    “Those… those are the game access crystals for ‘Return to Jianghu’,” the young man stammered, looking at the heavily made-up girl with the bright red, spiky hair. He thought she seemed a bit off.

    Holographic games had been around for over a decade. How could anyone not recognize the access crystals?

    “‘Return to Jianghu’? Access crystals?” Chi Lin asked. “So the assassins I saw were in another dimension? Not here?”

    The young man cautiously backed away. “You could say that… yeah.”

    The other internet cafe patrons were silent, some logging out of their games after being alerted by their companions, all staring with curious gazes.

    The young man tried to escape, but Chi Lin grabbed him again, pulling him into a corner. She lowered her voice. “You have the ability to shift between dimensions. Could it be you also know the Soul-Chasing Secret Art?”

    The young man looked bewildered. “What secret art?”

    Chi Lin repeated, “The Soul-Chasing Secret Art.”

    The young man hesitated. “…Do you need me to call the police?”

    Chi Lin frowned. “The police? What is that?”

    Fifteen minutes later.

    Two police officers stepped out of a patrol car and entered the “Cool Burn Holographic Gaming Center.”

    “Who called?” the female officer asked, immediately spotting the girl with the bright red hair sitting in the corner.

    The cafe manager hurried over, holding a tablet. “I did, officer. That kid over there caused a disturbance. Seems a little… unstable…”

    The manager tapped his head. “And a bit violent. Look, she kicked the door off its hinges.”

    The female officer approached Chi Lin and crouched down.

    “Hey there, how old are you? Are you an adult? What’s your name?”

    The manager winced internally. He had just said she was violent! What if she hurt the pretty police officer?

    A child? Chi Lin considered the term.

    She hadn’t had a chance to see this body’s appearance, but since the officer called her a child, she would play along.

    But she didn’t know this body’s name.

    Seeing Chi Lin’s silence, the male officer handed the female officer a flat device.

    Chi Lin peered through her thick bangs, observing the female officer’s every move.

    She must be a law enforcement officer of this era. The metal device she held had a similar texture to the access crystals, but its function was likely different.

    The female officer pressed a button. A beep sounded, and Chi Lin’s face appeared on the device’s screen, along with several lines of text.

    “Chi Lin, 17, a sophomore at South Lake Third High School, Class 6. Well, well, a minor skipping school to play games and destroying property. A few days in detention might teach you a lesson.”

    How did she know my name? Detention?

    Chi Lin’s heart pounded. Every detail in this unknown time amplified her unease.

    The words they spoke, the objects they used… everything was beyond her comprehension.

    But years of experience on the battlefield and in the political arena kept her composure intact.

    The female officer, seeing her silence, chuckled and flicked Chi Lin’s hair. “Just kidding. Nice hair, by the way. But not entirely kidding. Your parents are responsible for you being in an internet cafe underage. And the cafe will be fined, too.”

    The manager quickly interjected, “Officer, our system is a bit outdated. We haven’t updated to the latest network security yet. It was a mistake, a genuine mistake!”

    The female officer ignored him, continuing to address Chi Lin. “Come on, give me your parents’ phone number. I’m not letting you go until I speak to your guardian.”

    “Guardian…” Chi Lin pondered the word.

    Someone who supervised and protected a child. Parents. The meaning seemed accurate enough.

    “Lin,” the male officer said, and the female officer checked the device again. The scan showed that Chi Lin’s parents were divorced, and she lived with her mother.

    Her mother’s name was Peng Ziyuan, born in June 2001, 42 years old, a senior engineer at YHK Machinery, a subsidiary of N-T Group.

    A single-parent household. The female officer understood.

    She looked up Peng Ziyuan’s contact information and called her.

    After a brief lecture over the phone, the female officer returned. “Your mom said she’s out of town and can’t come get you. She’s going to contact your older sister to pick you up. She hung up before I could give her the address, and now her phone is off. Maybe the battery died. I don’t have your sister’s number. Care to share?”

    Phone number? What was that?

    Chi Lin had a million questions, but she was already perceived as strange. Asking more might expose her, creating unnecessary complications.

    Since these officers could access her guardian’s information, they could surely find her “sister” as well.

    Chi Lin simply said, “I don’t have her number.”

    The officers exchanged a look that clearly said, Kids these days. Not only do they skip school to play games, they lie without blinking.

    “Let me see your phone,” the female officer said.

    “I don’t have a phone,” Chi Lin replied.

    “Don’t give me that. I saw it.” The officer snatched the phone charm dangling from Chi Lin’s pocket, pulled out the phone, scanned Chi Lin’s face, and unlocked it.

    So this object was called a phone. And a phone number was likely a number associated with it.

    Chi Lin made a mental note.

    The officer scrolled through the contacts. There was no entry for “sister,” but there was one for “Mom’s BF.”

    Mother’s boyfriend?

    The officer dialed the number. It was indeed Peng Ziyuan’s boyfriend.

    Lou Mi had been up all night for a practice match and woke up at her desk. Her arm, which she had used as a pillow, was numb.

    Blearily, she tied back her loose hair.

    Before even opening her eyes properly, she noticed her computer screen was still on, displaying the livestream interface from last night.

    The stream had ended, but the small window in the corner, focused on her face, was still active.

    Gifts continued to flood in, especially as she tied her hair, triggering a morning gift-giving frenzy.

    The comments scrolled rapidly:

    “Wake up, everyone! Lou-jie is brushing her hair!”

    “Ahhhh, Lou-jie is as beautiful as ever!”

    “I could watch Lou-jie brush her hair for a year!”

    “Don’t lie, I watched Lou-jie sleep all night.”

    “Will Lou-jie stream tonight? I’m getting paid today and want to donate!”

    Lou Mi had been exhausted last night. After the practice match, she’d passed out without removing her access crystals, leaving the camera running all night.

    “Everyone go to school or work. See you later,” Lou Mi said to the camera, waving as she shut down the stream and stretched.

    Back from freshening up, she saw messages popping up in the club’s “Nine Heavens” team chat.

    Pagoda: “Mi-jie is Mi-jie. Even sleeping, she makes bank.”

    Xie Buyu: “Mi-jie, you better come to the club today. Lan-jie is looking for you everywhere. Says she needs to talk.”

    Lou Mi grabbed a carton of milk from the fridge, sat back down, and chugged it.

    HighTowerMiyuki: “Okay, got it.”

    HighTowerMiyuki was Lou Mi’s gaming ID. Captain of the Nine Heavens team, current champion of the hottest wuxia holographic game, “Return to Jianghu,” and the first female champion in the game’s history.

    Known for her exceptional skills, ruthless gameplay, and few words, HighTowerMiyuki was a goddess to countless fans worldwide. She had once set a record-breaking livestream with over 60 million concurrent viewers and 2.5 billion clicks.

    Lou Mi was also naturally beautiful, capable of both sweet and regal looks. Her flawless face radiated a queenly aura, and her occasional sharp remarks, coupled with her love for sweets, created an endearing contrast that captivated her audience.

    Whenever she agreed to show her face, the club would set up a hundred cameras to capture every angle.

    This was the age of gaming, and HighTowerMiyuki was its darling.

    Xie Buyu: “Mi-jie, do you know what Lan-jie is so mad about? She’s been on edge these past few days, like a walking volcano. No one dares to go near her.”

    HighTowerMiyuki: “She’s sulking at me. Just stay out of her way.”

    Pagoda: “Please, Mi-jie, save us from this torment!”

    Lou Mi was about to reply when something felt wrong.

    Why was that last gulp of milk spicy?

    The initial taste had been normal, rich and milky, but the final mouthful was now burning a path down her throat.

    She picked up the carton and examined it. A red residue clung to the bottom – chili paste, without a doubt.

    Who else would pull such a childish prank but that little brat?

    Thankfully, Lou Mi always locked her door. She shuddered to think what the brat might have done while she was asleep otherwise.

    The chili paste had a lingering burn. Lou Mi’s face flushed red, and she couldn’t speak. She rushed to the kitchen and gulped down two glasses of water, finally quelling the fire.

    As she contemplated whether to dislocate the brat’s arm or head the next time they met, her dad called.

    Her tongue still tingling, Lou Mi answered with an irritated “Hello.”

    “Mimi, your Ziyuan Auntie and I are still out of town on business. Could you do us a favor?”

    Lou Mi didn’t need him to continue. She could tell from his tone and phrasing whether it was a normal call or one related to Chi Lin.

    She launched into her preemptive strike: “Yesterday, that little brat Chi Lin dismantled my most expensive Gundam model without apologizing. The day before, she deliberately opened my game cabinet and let Tiger pee all over my games. The day before that, she tied my shoelaces together while I was in a practice match, causing me to trip and fall ten thousand meters in-game… and just now, she poisoned my milk! My tongue is still numb! I’ve got a list of hundreds of other offenses, big and small, and I’ll be settling the score when you get back. Now, tell me what favor you need.”

    Dad: “…”

  • Can We Get Married First?  1

    Chapter 1

    A drop of blood, drawn from a pricked fingertip, fell into the Blood Essence Pearl. Its pale red hue instantly deepened, swirling agitatedly with the addition of Chi Lin’s blood.

    Chi Lin watched the changes within the pearl, uncertainty furrowing her brow.

    Coughing, the Imperial Preceptor reached out to place the pearl into the Empress’s mouth.

    “Allow me,” Chi Lin said, taking the pearl. She approached the ice coffin. The chill air struck her already numb face. It was cold, but the Empress’s body was colder still.

    Gently pinching the Empress’s jaw, she opened her lips and slowly inserted the Blood Essence Pearl.

    The pearl’s light was swallowed the moment the Empress’s lips closed. Gradually, color returned to her pale face. Chi Lin’s breath quickened.

    Her Empress looked as if she were merely sleeping.

    Chi Lin sat beside the ice coffin, gazing intently at the Empress.

    This was their first reunion since their wedding night, and it was a meeting across the divide between life and death.

    “Your Majesty,” the Imperial Preceptor said, “allow me to bandage your wound.”

    Chi Lin flexed her fingers. “It’s just a small injury.”

    The Imperial Preceptor glanced at her blood-soaked back and sighed. “I’m referring to Your Majesty’s other wound…”

    Only then did Chi Lin register the pain.

    She had expended half her life force just to return.

    Chi Lin had been the Empress’s companion since the Empress was a princess. Similar in age, they met at the Imperial Academy and grew close during their studies at Taihua Palace. Two years after the Princess ascended the throne, she made Chi Lin her Empress.

    Chi Lin was the first Empress to a female ruler since the founding of the dynasty. Yet, on their wedding night, she was accused of a crime, and her entire family was exiled.

    Though soldiers escorted them, such a calamity befalling the Empress’s family was unprecedented.

    Nearing Yizhou, Chi Lin received news of the Empress’s sudden death and a coup in the capital. She had always suspected foul play in her exile, and her suspicions were confirmed.

    Disregarding everything, Chi Lin fought her way back to the capital.

    The coup was in full swing. The capital was leaderless, with only a handful of loyal ministers desperately clinging to power.

    Skilled in both literary and martial arts, and a seasoned warrior, Chi Lin infiltrated the Imperial Palace and found the Imperial Preceptor.

    The Preceptor and the remaining ministers had endured for days, still unaware of the true mastermind behind the Empress’s murder. The apparent enemies were not the true enemies; the power-hungry culprit remained hidden.

    Upon seeing Chi Lin, the Imperial Preceptor was astonished. “Your Majesty! How did you return?”

    Hearing the address “Your Majesty,” Chi Lin’s suspicions solidified. Looking at the once magnificent palace, now stained with the fear and bloodshed, she gave a bitter smile.

    “I should have known,” she said. “Her Majesty exiled me to protect my family.”

    The Preceptor and the ministers prostrated themselves, weeping. “Her Majesty’s sacrifice is a testament to her devotion!”

    “There’s no need to ask Heaven,” Chi Lin murmured, “I understand. But…”

    But with internal and external strife, and the fall of the Empresss, what would become of Dayuan?

    The Preceptor led her to the Empress.

    The Empress’s body was preserved in an ice coffin within a secret passage in the palace.

    From the moment she stepped into the empty passage, Chi Lin felt her blood turn to ice.

    Seeing the Empress in the ice coffin, she had the fleeting illusion that the Empress would sit up and smile at her, just as she had countless times in the past.

    But the Empress remained still.

    “Her Majesty has passed. This is the truth.”

    Chi Lin sensed something more in the Preceptor’s words.

    “Her Majesty has been deceased for days,” she said, “yet there has been no official announcement, though rumors run rampant. Does the Preceptor have another plan?”

    The Preceptor coughed incessantly. Already past seventy, with a head of silver hair, he seemed to have aged another ten years. He hadn’t even bothered to clean the stains on his robes.

    He approached her, his eyes bloodshot.

    “Indeed, I have a plan. General Chen has sent a secret message, dispatching 100,000 elite troops from Yubei to provide urgent support. This army is our last hope; we must strike decisively!”

    “But we still have no clue who the enemy is…”

    “We may not know, but Her Majesty does.”

    Chi Lin was taken aback. She instinctively looked towards the Empress.

    “Before Her Majesty was murdered, she attempted to write a character. But she collapsed before finishing the stroke and never woke up.”

    Chi Lin pondered this. “Her Majesty must have sensed something. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have sent me away from the capital, away from danger. But what use is it if she knows everything? She is already…”

    The Preceptor whispered something in Chi Lin’s ear. It took her a moment to process it. She looked at him with disbelief.

    “The Soul-Chasing Secret Art? To pursue Her Majesty into her next life and uncover the truth?”

    The Preceptor produced the Blood Essence Pearl. “It contains Her Majesty’s blood. If we add your blood, I can perform the Soul-Chasing Secret Art and send your soul to Her Majesty’s next life. If you find Her Majesty’s reincarnation and awaken her past life memories, you can learn the culprit’s identity, turn the tide, and save Dayuan!”

    “Wait…” Chi Lin felt as though she were listening to a fantastical tale. “Soul-Chasing? Next life? Have you ever used this Secret Art, Preceptor?”

    The Preceptor was honest. “Never. This forbidden art was passed down from my master’s master. It goes against the natural order, and those who use it are cursed. My ancestor died from this curse. The price is too high, so it is only used as a last resort. But now, with the kingdom on the brink of collapse, I have no other choice.”

    “You will die if you perform this ritual?”

    “Yes. My life will be forfeit, and Your Majesty’s safety is not guaranteed. I cannot guarantee the ritual’s success, or whether your soul will reach Her Majesty’s next life and return safely. No one who witnessed the ritual has lived to tell the tale. This journey will be fraught with peril. You may not find Her Majesty and instead lose your own life!”

    The Preceptor’s voice grew sharper, echoing in the empty passage.

    Chi Lin, however, had calmed down. “But this is Dayuan’s only hope. Our last shred of hope.”

    Without hesitation, Chi Lin drew a dagger from her waist and pricked her finger.

    “I will find Her Majesty. Even the slightest chance is enough for me.”

    Tears welled in the Preceptor’s eyes. He knelt and kowtowed repeatedly. “Your Majesty is the closest person to Her Majesty. Only you can find her and restore her memories!”

    Chi Lin helped him up. “There’s no need for such formalities, Preceptor. I made up my mind when I decided to return. To the Yellow Springs or the Azure Heavens, I will follow Her Majesty. This is my duty as her wife and subject.”

    The Preceptor seemed to have something to say, but swallowed it back down.

    No one knew how far into the future Chi Lin would travel, or what kind of era she would find.

    They didn’t know the name, gender, or appearance of the Empress’s reincarnation.

    The Preceptor could only confirm one thing: “Even without her past life memories, the soul remains the same. Some of Her Majesty’s characteristics might be retained. There might even be an identifying mark. You will have to discern these yourself. Your Majesty is proficient in both literary and martial arts, the youngest general and scholar in our history, and incredibly intelligent. This task will not be beyond you.”

    As he spoke, the red light of the Blood Essence Pearl enveloped the Empress’s body, then erupted in a blinding flash that pierced the passage and shot into the night sky.

    Chi Lin was nearly blinded, but the Preceptor seemed unaffected.

    The red light faded, and the Empress’s body grew dim once more.

    The Preceptor led her to Kunling Lake in the Imperial Garden.

    “The passage to Her Majesty’s next life has been opened,” the Preceptor said. “You should have seen the light of the ritual. Only you can see it. A new star has appeared in the sky, beside the moon. Only you can see it. This star will guide you. Every three months, it will align with the moon. When the star and moon overlap, you can jump into any large body of water to return.”

    Chi Lin saw the unfamiliar star in the night sky.

    It was almost the brightest star in the heavens, clearly visible even next to the moon.

    “One more thing, Your Majesty. I am only sending your soul. You will inhabit another’s body. You cannot choose this body; you will only know its identity once you are inside. Finding someone’s reincarnation in a vast sea of people will not be easy. Fortunately, no matter how long you spend in that life, you will return to this moment. Time is on your side. Please be patient in your investigation.”

    The Preceptor’s words seemed rehearsed, as if he had anticipated Chi Lin’s return.

    Whatever his intentions, Chi Lin was ready.

    She looked at the icy surface of the lake in the dead of winter, took a deep breath, and jumped in without hesitation.

    The ripples on the lake quickly subsided, leaving only the Preceptor.

    He prostrated himself for a long time, then kowtowed, his wide eyes filled with blood.

    “Only you can return from this abyss,” he murmured. “The fate of our century-old dynasty, the lives of countless people… I entrust them all to you…”

    A bolt of lightning struck from the sky, hitting the Preceptor directly.

    He turned to ash, kneeling by Kunling Lake, never to move again.

    .

    The lake was colder than Chi Lin had imagined.

    She hugged herself tightly, sinking deeper.

    The lake seemed bottomless, yet she felt no suffocation. Instead, she began to breathe.

    Not with her nose, but with every inch of her skin.

    A light emanated from the depths of the lake. Chi Lin’s spirits lifted, and she swam towards it.

    The moment she touched the light, she felt herself falling, the scenery around her completely transformed.

    She was suspended in mid-air, about to plummet. She reached out and grabbed something, regaining her balance.

    “She’s there! After her!”

    Besides the whistling wind, she heard shouts and the clash of weapons.

    She found herself in a dense forest, clinging to a thick branch.

    The sounds of pursuit grew closer. She could almost smell the metallic scent of blood and steel.

    Planting her feet on the trunk, she pushed off the branch, not stopping to examine the body she now inhabited. Survival was paramount!

    With that push, she soared through the air, landing precisely on a thicker branch.

    She kicked off again, launching herself into the canopy. The view suddenly opened up.

    She hadn’t realized she could jump so high. The forest stretched below her, a sea of green under the moonlight.

    In the distance, city lights twinkled beneath a huge, orange-yellow moon.

    The moon was so large it startled her. She had seen countless moons, but none as bright and immense as this.

    And the buildings in the distance… they seemed strangely familiar.

    Could it be that she hadn’t traveled very far into the future?

    The assassins pursued relentlessly, and Chi Lin darted through the forest.

    This body was even more agile than her own, its movements incredibly swift.

    Three figures emerged, blocking her path. Chi Lin had no choice but to fight.

    Wielding twin blades, she slashed through the air, leaving trails of light.

    Each strike was fluid and powerful. She realized she had inhabited the body of a martial arts expert, holding her own against nearly ten opponents!

    But every time she struck an enemy, strange symbols appeared, puzzling her.

    Chi Lin fought with increasing excitement, reveling in the power of this body.

    She kicked the last assassin, perhaps a little too hard, and felt a twinge in her ankle.

    The assassin scrambled away. Ignoring the pain, she gave chase, wanting answers. She grabbed the assassin by the scruff of the neck.

    The assassin turned, about to launch a hidden weapon. Chi Lin anticipated it, dodging the projectile and punching the assassin in the face.

    “Who sent you to kill me?! Speak!”

    “What the f*ck… my eye!”

    The assassin didn’t speak, but Chi Lin heard a sudden, jarring voice.

    A sharp pain throbbed in her temple, as if something had been ripped from her brow.

    The scenery around her shifted abruptly.

    The forest, buildings, giant moon, and assassins vanished. Before her stood a man in his early twenties, clutching his eye, his face contorted in pain. His hair was cut in a strange, short style. His clothes were thin and shabby, one sleeve seemingly torn, exposing his forearm.

    Chi Lin was still gripping his collar. Around them, numerous people dressed similarly stared at her with fear, slowly edging closer.

    One of them whispered, “Miss, let’s talk this out. Don’t fight in the internet cafe.”

    Whispers filled the air:

    “Did she lose it playing games…?”

    “Another one who can’t tell the difference between VR and reality. She’s gone crazy.”

    Chi Lin looked around. She was in a large room filled with rows of tables with large glass screens. Bright lights flashed within the screens, as if tiny people were trapped inside.

    Sliding chairs, short-haired men, women with long, flowing hair and bare legs, and even people whose gender she couldn’t immediately discern…

    Chi Lin had arrived in a very strange era.