Chapter 18 The misunderstanding deepens

School ended, and Chen Qiao thoughtfully assigned Lin Na a few math problems.
Practice makes perfect—even rookies can soar.

“See you this afternoon, Chen Qiao,” Lin Na said, waving as she slung on her backpack.

“Be careful with your sister on the way.”

“Don’t treat me like a kid!” Lin Na clenched her fists, pouting.

Since yesterday afternoon, Chen Qiao had been treating her like a little sister.
She often patted her own sister’s head, but they were the same height, same age—maybe she was even older.

“Chen Qiao, when’s your birthday?”

“Me?
Lunar July 25.”

“Year of the Ox?”

“Yup.
You?
When’s yours?”

“June 8, also Ox.”

A month older than him—she definitely needed to pat his head.

“Both in summer vacation, pretty fated,” Chen Qiao said with a natural smile, unexpectedly scoring her birthday info, a chance to bond.

“Uh, yeah.
I gotta go—can’t keep my sister waiting.”

Fated?
The word sparked thoughts of recent dramas.
Lin Na bolted from the classroom like she was fleeing.

Chen Qiao wasn’t in a rush to head home.
There was nothing to do—Mom would be back by 11 to cook, no need for him to prep rice.

His sister’s school ended in 20 minutes.
Leaving in half an hour, he’d meet her on the way home.
The classroom was free at noon anyway.

Wu Xin Yu planned to copy the last two math problems in the afternoon but decided to finish now for a lunchtime nap.
She declined Lian Shu Mei’s invite to walk home—same age, same grade, near-daily companions, and academic rivals.

Finishing, Wu Xin Yu brushed chalk dust off her hands, squatted carefully by the blackboard, slipped on her shoes, and moved the chair.
Spotting Chen Qiao still in class, she thought: Studying hard?

Hypocrite!
Disgusting!
Sneaky!

Playing on the surface, secretly studying—she’d caught him!

Lin Na’s grades were poor.
Dating Chen Qiao would tank them further, unthinkable to Wu Xin Yu.

Her hand, touched by Chen Qiao yesterday, felt gross.
She’d wash it thoroughly at home, already dirtied by chalk.

She slammed the chair down in the reading corner, startling Chen Qiao.
He glanced at her, then the back blackboard, understanding instantly.

Pretty responsible.

He turned, solved the problems—writing novels was tiring; studying was a break.

Wu Xin Yu, watching his back, fumed.
It felt like she’d stayed to copy for him alone.

She’d see when he left, but her homework was done.
Middle school prep could wait for summer—she had teacher connections to ask.

Bored, she scanned the reading corner’s books—dull, pointless.
Chen Qiao, the librarian, was slacking.

In less than a day, her view of him plummeted from “comrade” to the worst, dragging his desk mate down with him.

She pulled out Red Rock—the only decent read.

Chen Qiao checked the clock: 11:30, time to go.

Notebook in hand, he stood, surprised to see Wu Xin Yu.
“Still here after dismissal?”

“You’re here too.”

“No food at home yet.”

They waited for his sister to eat together.

“I’m leaving.
Go home soon—don’t worry your parents.”

“I’m going too.
Don’t worry about me.”

She hated his preachy tone.

He left; she followed, keeping distance, not wanting to walk side by side.

Boarders, eager learners, passed by post-lunch, greeting them—sixth-grade acquaintances, unfazed by their duo but curious why they lingered.

“Wu Xin Yu copied the math problems on the board!”

“Really?”

Overjoyed, they raced to the classroom, ignoring them.
That’s dedication.

“Like it’s your credit,” Wu Xin Yu snapped, her irritation spilling over.

“Sorry, you handle it,” Chen Qiao said.

No one asked further.
Passing the cafeteria, food aromas hit—hungry.

Lower graders splashed water, washing lunchboxes, scolded by a teacher.
Third grade was the youngest boarding age—teachers’ biggest headache.

At the downhill slope, kids at the shop’s “arena” battled spinning tops, inspired by Battle King or Blazing Warrior.
Years ago, yo-yos trended with Yo-Yo King, earlier four-wheelers with a shop track that went bust.

His sister and friends were nearby, perfect timing.

Seeing Chen Qiao, Chen Fei Fei jogged over, ready to scold him for wandering, thinking he was alone.
Spotting Wu Xin Yu, she softened.

“Sis.”

“Fei Fei Jie.”

Chen Qiao glanced at Wu Xin Yu—calling her that close?

She glared back, thinking he embarrassed Fei Fei, her idol and role model.

“Why so late?
Detention?”

Both were good students—likely helping teachers or getting extra tutoring.

“I stayed to finish homework,” Wu Xin Yu said.

“Oh…” Chen Fei Fei drew out the sound.

Her brother, suddenly studious—for a sister?
He was at the cafe last night—three-minute passion?

“I copied the teacher’s math problems.”

Chen Fei Fei got it—she’d done the same.

Wu Xin Yu hesitated on snitching about Chen Qiao’s “romance” with his desk mate.
She wasn’t a tattletale.

“Abiao dating his little girlfriend?” Ye Qing Lan teased in local dialect.

“What!” Wu Xin Yu jumped, outmaneuvered—now she couldn’t bring it up.
Lucky Chen Qiao.

“Stop joking.
They’re good students, not like you,” Chen Fei Fei said, elbowing Ye Qing Lan’s side, rolling her eyes.
Her brother, dating?
He’s a kid.

“No one wants me anyway, unlike you,” Ye Qing Lan muttered.
She’d always been Fei Fei’s sidekick, barely a green leaf.

“Xiao Yu, Principal Wu’s at the gate waiting.”

“Got it, thanks, Fei Fei Jie.”

Wu Xin Yu jogged toward the middle school, ponytail swaying.

“Her dad’s the principal?” Chen Qiao asked, shocked.

“You didn’t know?” Chen Fei Fei countered.

It was common knowledge at the middle school.

“I knew her mom’s a teacher.”

By the time he reached middle school, Wu Xin Yu had transferred, and the principal changed.
He hadn’t connected the dots.

“Not just that—her mom’s at the tobacco station, not some clerk, probably a manager,” Ye Qing Lan, gossip queen, added.

Damn, a true town elite.
The tobacco system was central-government-level; even a small station post was prestigious.

At the crossroads, they parted with Ye Qing Lan.
Chen Qiao and Chen Fei Fei kept talking about Wu Xin Yu.

“Her name sounds like Xin Yu’s,” Chen Qiao said.

He’d mixed them up post-rebirth—similar sounds, but one name felt cultured, the other less so.

“Yeah, tons of people share my name.
Why’d Mom and Dad pick this one?”

“Mom’s bad at names, Dad’s worse.
Good thing they didn’t use numbers.
But you’re my only sister,” he said, patting his chest.

“What about our cousins?”

Married ones with kids didn’t count; an older cousin’s daughter was half a sister.
Their parents married and had kids late, creating a gap with older relatives.
A young cousin died, leaving a fiancée.

“By the way, Sis, any landslides at the middle school’s back hill?” he probed indirectly.

“Last year, a collapse.
They built a wall and terraced slopes.
Should be fine this year.”

It wasn’t fine—it happened this year.
Walls and slopes wouldn’t cut it, but convincing the school for more fixes was unrealistic; he’d sound like a paranoid kid.

He couldn’t pinpoint the day, only recalling heavy rain and his sister staying at school for dinner.
Warning her to change her actions risked putting her in danger, defeating his goal.

He just wanted her not to cry alone at night.
Saving a couple of older girls who’d fall for him?
Bonus.

“Why ask?”

“Saw a landslide on the news—buried a village.
The school’s hill seems similar,” he fibbed.

“Don’t worry, I’m here.
I’ll protect you.”

She pulled him into a tight hug, patting his back.

He wasn’t scared—his face pressed against her modest chest again.

Her scent was addictive, though the noon sun was hot.

He hugged her waist, thinking: I’m protecting you—and Xin Yu.

No sign of Xin Yu on the way home—likely eating with Grandma.
They’d have dinner together.