Chapter 37: Unfamiliar

After school, Fei Fei didn’t see Chen Qiao, feeling a slight pang of disappointment.
She spotted Wu Xin Yu heading to middle school but couldn’t ask, “What’s up with my brother?”—it’d invite teasing for both of them.

Parting with Ye Qing Lan and others, she turned toward home, spotting Chen Qiao’s leisurely figure.
Her lips curved, steps lightening with a flutter.

“Hunching again—I’ve told you a million times,” she said, straightening his shoulders.

“Why didn’t you wait to walk home together?”

He couldn’t admit dodging her to avoid being seen with Lin Na and Wu Xin Yu.
One girl was fine; two felt risky.

Facing Fei Fei, he felt an odd guilt, like being caught red-handed—probably her big-sister authority at work.

Though he aspired to be a “beast,” neither his body nor mind was ready.
Physically, obvious.
Mentally, he needed gradual steps—start as a small beast, then…

The desk swap was sudden but not all bad.
It could deepen Lin Na’s reliance on him, and with Wu Xin Yu physically closer, other closeness might follow.
Plus, he could nudge her off track—start with class distractions, then other “fun.”

Prim, top-student girls like her were often “repressed”—one taste of the forbidden, and they’d spiral.

Wu Xin Yu wasn’t shocked by the swap, almost prepared, suggesting Yang consulted her.

This week, he sensed her subtle hostility.
Why agree to be desk mates then?

He’d ask her that afternoon, face-to-face with Lin Na, during art class—they’d agreed to sketch the school for their graduation project.

Luckily, Fei Fei didn’t press, sparing him from lying.

“Got your grades?
How’d you do?” she asked.

“Great—really great.
Perfect in Chinese and math, one off in English.”

He felt his English deserved full marks, but room for growth was fine.
The English teacher hadn’t reneged, and he could push for another small deal—step by step.

“Impressive,” Fei Fei said, ruffling his hair, not claiming credit like “that’s my brother.”
She hated when people called her a genius, ignoring her effort.

Balancing top grades and chores was exhausting—she barely knew how she managed.

“Mom, Mom, give me a sister!” Chen Qiao burst out upon entering.

“What’s this now?” Chen Li Li had forgotten the topic.

Fei Fei laughed, explaining, “He got perfect scores in Chinese and math, one off in English.
Chinese essays are tough for full marks—I’ve only done it once.
His writing’s solid.”

Could his novel submissions be paying off?

“Tied with Wu Xin Yu for first, but mine’s worth more—I’m the real top.”

“Got it.
When Dad’s back, he’ll give you pocket money.
A house topped out today—he fronted materials, should recoup some.”

“I don’t want money, just a sister.”

“You really want one that bad?” Chen Li Li asked, bemused.

This felt different.
They’d nagged for a sister before, forgotten by the next day.
Now, with a first-place finish, he was serious.

“Life’s meaningless without a sister,” he said earnestly, banking on one to shift Mom’s overworked habits, avoiding burnout.
Ideally, she’d quit medicine, stay home, raise a sister, then granddaughters for joy.

“What about life without a big sister?” Fei Fei asked, shaking him.

“No big sister, no me,” he countered, tilting his head.

“True,” she grinned.

“So, Mom, you agree?”

“Ahem, I’ll talk to Dad.
Eat—food’s getting cold,” Chen Li Li coughed, dodging.
Explaining childbirth’s hassle to her son was awkward, though she’d shared more with Fei Fei post-menarche.

“Considering” meant hope.
Dad needed to step up, turning impossible odds to a one-in-a-thousand chance—huge progress.

Chen Li Li felt torn.
As a doctor, she knew she could still bear children.
Older gynecologists shared tales of women birthing multiples between 35 and 47, second or third deliveries often faster than the first.
No data linked older age to more deformities, though those were anecdotes from less-informed times.

With better medical care now, age wasn’t a barrier—money was.
Tuning her body for her and the child’s health was wise, but conceiving at her age was harder.

Work and costs were bigger hurdles.
Fines aside, raising a child was pricier now.
Quitting was non-negotiable—having a kid at her age would spark gossip, especially in obstetrics.

She’d planned to switch jobs—either after Fei Fei started high school boarding or Chen Qiao finished middle school, his frail frame a worry.

A child might mend ties with his grandma and Fei Fei’s—especially a son.
No, no—don’t fall into that boy-preference trap.

“Your writing’s good, neater too.
Show me your novel,” Fei Fei said.

He handed over his notebook, blushing—public execution vibes, though Fei Fei had seen drafts live.

You fear your sister finding your sister-obsessed novel, but she only cares if it’s earning.

Some chapters, written in the café, were patchy.

Fei Fei read slowly, savoring each word, barely covering much in an hour.

“So into sisters, huh?
Even in your novel.”

It was early, focused on sibling bonds.
Her pure, healthy mind, unfamiliar with such stories or dramas, didn’t read too much into it—unlike, say, Blue Love.

“Add a big sister role,” he suggested.

Plenty of older female characters, but no biological sister.
Adding one was fine but complicated his “copying” plan, requiring later fixes.

“Won’t that feel forced?
Write how you want.
Next book, make a sister the lead.”

She assumed novels topped out at a few ten thousand words.

“Cool.
Other requests?”

“Hmm,” she pondered, finger on chin.
“Not too much like me—I’m just your sister.”

“You’re one-of-a-kind.”

And would be the sister’s sister too.

First afternoon class was computer, but the lab was locked, the teacher announcing self-study.

No computer class this week either.

Lessons were limited—typing games, Speed, Spider Solitaire, or 3D Pinball, no internet.
Sometimes, it was just lectures, or rare surveys allowed 4399 or QQ downloads, but slow speeds meant class ended before installs.

Chen Qiao started a new notebook for magazine submissions—safe if caught by teachers or curious eyes, just “practicing writing.”

Math teacher popped in, asking about homework.

Many shouted “no,” knowing finished homework meant lectures and new assignments, maybe eating into PE—the kids’ rare joy.

With Wu Xin Yu, their desk’s old “38th parallel” line kept them separate.
He’d tap for her to move for his wall-side seat, no contact.

He’d done the same with Lin Na—dumb.
With Wu Xin Yu, aggressive moves were unwise, and he lacked a “tutoring” excuse.
Sparking her interest was key.

Mature for her age, her little schemes were transparent to him.

Finally, curiosity won.
She poked his arm with her pencil’s eraser.
“What’re you always writing?
Homework done?
Don’t you study?”

“Draft for a magazine submission—earning fees,” he said, showing his notebook.
Short pieces tested structure and skill.

“Huh?” Wu Xin Yu leaned in, stunned.

His attitude—yet matching her scores, maybe surpassing—English’s weight made his edge clear.

If he’d outdone her with Fei Fei’s tutoring, she’d accept it.
But this felt like trampling her effort.

“Need me to repeat?”

“No.
Entrance exam’s soon—you’re messing around.
This monthly was our teachers’ test, sixth-grade scope, just a reference.”

“Except memorization, I’ve mastered it.
More study’s a waste, and writing hones my prose.
Don’t you think?”

“But…”

Unused to whispering, her voice rose.

“Shh, teacher’s looking.”

She covered her mouth, hid behind a textbook, and whispered, “So your essay improved from drafting?”

Ear-on-bell stealth.

“Yup.”

“You said ‘epiphany’ this morning—liar.”

“We weren’t close then.”

He didn’t know they’d be desk mates an hour later.

She stomped his foot lightly, avoiding sandal-exposed toes, hitting the top—painless.

She scooted to the bench’s edge, arm dangling off, book shielding her puffed cheeks, avoiding his gaze and hiding from him.

Mad?

Did she think they were close?