Chapter 26: Prepare for a Rainy Day

At thrilling moments, Tian Zhen and Zheng Yan called Chen Qiao to share reactions, gushing about cool scenes.

“Uh-huh,” he replied halfheartedly. “I’ve seen this episode. Next is—”

“Stop! No spoilers!” they shouted in unison, leaving him alone, giving him peace.

Beep beep beep—the familiar QQ notification. His sister’s penguin avatar flashed.

“Stinky brother, caught you sneaking online again?”

“I’m here openly.”

Not even invisible.

“Not afraid I’ll tell Fei Fei?”

“She already knows,” he said confidently.

“Hope you’re this bold when you get home.”

“Worry about yourself, Zhi Rou Jie. The dean might be peeking through the window.”

“How do you know my name? Fei Fei told you, right?”

“Yup.”

No reply for half an hour. He kept typing his novel. Her avatar flashed again.

“You jinx! I turned around, and the math teacher was outside the window like a ghost. Good thing I’m fourth row by the window, with Fei Fei shielding me, so I wasn’t caught.”

“First-row guy reading a novel got nabbed. Book torn in half—rented, so no deposit back, plus a trip to the office. Brutal.”

“Shouldn’t you thank me for the heads-up? Otherwise, you’d be the one with a smashed phone.”

“How’d you know a teacher was there?”

“Guessed.”

The dean, also his sister’s math teacher, Zheng Guangxia, would be Chen Qiao’s in ninth grade—a rare standout, notoriously hot-tempered, fond of evening study ambushes.

By ninth grade, over half the class had phones—basic Nokia color screens at worst, Android, iPhone, or Nokia smartphones at best. Nokia was fading, clinging to Microsoft.

Zheng confiscated plenty, chewing out kids to retrieve SIMs. Basic Noki0as got smashed for show—durable, unlike smartphones, which he avoided breaking to dodge trouble.

Confiscated phones returned only after graduation, or parents had to visit.

“Figured. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

“Ask my sister.”

“I did. She wouldn’t say, stingy. Too bad I’m an only child—no sibling intel to trade.”

“I’m Chen Qiao. We’re even.”

“I’m Xia Zhi Rou, Lanhe Junior High, Class 4, Grade 8, 14 years old, student ID 07, from Hot Spring Village…”

“Zhi Rou Jie, don’t share so much online. It’s dangerous.”

He wasn’t sure if this Xia Zhi Rou was the sole victim of that landslide, but she had a phone and was a boarder.

He didn’t know the exact date, but the timeframe was soon—next week or the one after, between afternoon dismissal and evening study. If his sister wasn’t home for dinner, he’d call Xia Zhi Rou immediately. They had a landline.

Would she believe him? Keep his secret? There wasn’t much time to build trust. The landslide loomed.

Better have his sister pass the warning. Even if she didn’t understand, his urgency would make her act.

“You’re not a stranger. I don’t accept random friend requests. You’re Fei Fei’s brother. Your turn—how old are you?”

Her tone sounded like coaxing a kid. Some loved chatting with strangers or answering message bottles.

“Probably 12. Ask my sister for more. I’m busy.”

“Busy gaming? Believe me, I’ll show Fei Fei our chat.”

“Threatening with tattling is lame. You’re not a kid.”

“You’re the kid.”

“I am a kid.”

“Chat with me more. I’m bored and can’t bug Fei Fei while she’s studying,” she whined.

“At least you’ve got some conscience. Study if you’re bored.”

“Studying is boring.”

“What’s your phone number?”

“You calling me?”

“Maybe.”

A 59-second call cost little, unlike ordering anime clips, which would get him scolded.

“Can’t wait.”

“Teacher’s back.”

She went quiet, hopefully not caught, or his plan would flop.

He set his sister’s QQ to invisible. Net fees weren’t cheap—saving lives and earning money both mattered. No cash, no self-rescue.

Net fees stung. He hurried typing his novel, planning offline bonding later.

“Stinky brother, you lied!” with an angry emoji.

In the middle school classroom, cicadas buzzed from the back hill. Xia Zhi Rou, leaning against the cool wall, giggled. “Fei Fei, your brother’s fun.”

“You chatted with him again?”

“Yup.”

“I’ll deal with him at home.”

“He said he’s not scared of you.”

Xia Zhi Rou realized chatting about her brother was the only non-study topic Fei Fei allowed in class.

“Hmph, what’d you talk about?”

At 9:30, the café owner knocked. “Three hours, time’s up. Go home, or your parents will call the cops. Two machines—pay two more yuan.”

Zheng Yan had opened a machine but joined Tian Zhen to share earphones, shutting the other to save money.

Chen Qiao handed over two yuan. He got a steal—15 chapters typed for two bucks. Double updates wouldn’t last long; handwriting-to-typing was too slow.

First manuscript fee? Buy a cheap computer for typing, no internet needed. Use a USB to upload at the café.

The trio left the shop’s back room; Fang Meng Jia was gone, likely asleep.

“Next time, my treat,” Zheng Yan vowed.

Outside, Tian Zhen dreamed of convincing his parents for a computer. His dad had a laptop, but it held government files—untouchable.

“Score well, you might get one.”

“Sigh…” Scoring well meant beating Wu Xin Yu for first—impossible.

They parted at the crossroads, homes in different directions.

At his doorstep, shaking sore arms, a shadow lunged, hugging him from behind, pushing him forward.

Who else but his sister, panting from her run? She pinched his cheeks. “Where were you so late?”

“Black internet café. Tian Zhen and Zheng Yan dragged me,” he admitted, ratting them out, betrayed by Xia Zhi Rou.

“Exams tomorrow, and you’re playing? Don’t you want a sister?”

Chen Fei Fei couldn’t figure him out—morning study zeal, evening recklessness. Net zero change?

“Relaxing before the test. I’ve got this.”

Though just a sixth-grade exam, it tied to his sister’s birth and Mom’s health. He’d reviewed key points thoroughly.

“Oh…”

“Don’t chat with Zhi Rou anymore.”

“Why?”

“She’ll get distracted from studying.”

They were close friends, listed in her top contacts—unless Xia Zhi Rou set it herself, but such pranks meant a tight bond.

Was this his sister’s possessiveness?

“I’m sweaty, all sticky. Gotta shower.”

“Wait till you’re not sweaty, or you’ll catch a cold.”

“Right. Your clothes washed? Showered yet?”

She sniffed his shoulder. His recent workouts left a strong sweat scent.

“Nope.”

“All you do is play. Shower.”

“Okay…”

He grabbed hot water, showered fast to not delay her bedtime. Co-showering crossed his mind but stayed unsaid—sleeping together was dream enough.

“So quick? Did you even wash properly?” she asked, skeptical.

He feared she’d make him rewash but was relieved—and slightly disappointed—when she didn’t.

While she showered, he dialed Xia Zhi Rou’s number. She’d be awake, right?

Ring ring ring—

“Hello, Xia Zhi Rou?”

“Stinky brother? Chen Qiao? You really called?”

Her voice was pleasant.

“I keep my word.”

“You sounded tough online, but your voice is so young, pfft…” she giggled.

“I’m a kid!”

“Where’s your sister?”

“Showering.”

“So late? Won’t her hair dry? I don’t wash mine this late—wet hair, bed, morning bird’s nest.”

“I’ll help her dry it.”

“Wow, good brother.”

“Did Fei Fei scold you?”

“Nope.”

“Tch, she said she’d teach you a lesson.”

Xia Zhi Rou reassessed his place in Fei Fei’s heart.

“Just checking your number works. Stop playing, sleep. Night.”

“Wait, I wasn’t—beep—”

He hung up before a minute, hearing her grit her teeth. “Stinky brother, just you wait.” She was planning to give this cocky kid a real-life lesson.