Yan She didn't scold me. Instead, she seemed oddly curious about the love letter incident. "Who'd you write it for? What does she look like? Got a photo? Show me."
I grumbled, "What love letter? It got killed halfway."
Her eyes lit up with gossipy fervor—women are scarier than wild beasts when it comes to prying. She pressed until I caved and told her how Jiang Qingqing had caught me.
Yan She's eyes widened. "So… your confession failed?"
"Xia Shi already has a boyfriend."
She rolled her eyes. "So what? Steal her! No wall can't be toppled." Then, after a pause, "Wait—the whole school knows you liked her. Does she? How'd she react?"
"…Nothing."
"Ugh!" Yan She huffed. "You might not be as pretty as me, but you're still my cousin. How dare that Xia Shi ignore you? Next week, I'm going with you. Let's see how 'beautiful' she is—bet she's not half as hot as me."
I waved my hands frantically. "No need!" (If you show up, the school will explode.)
She relented but added, "I'm open-minded, unlike your dad. School isn't just about books—it's about life. Dating? That's learning relationships. Go ahead. I won't snitch. Your allowance's safe."
(…As long as I obey her and scrub her floors.)
Before I could speak, she smirked. "Am I the best sister or what?"
I forced a nod. "The best."
"Damn right. Now—since I'm so nice, repay me today."
(Here it comes.)
I sighed. "What do you want?"
"Fetch my nail polish."
Her apartment had three bedrooms. I trudged to her master suite, grabbed the polish, and returned. "Anything else?"
"Paint my nails."
I froze. "…What?"
"You heard me. Problem?"
"…No."
I sat beside her, outwardly calm but internally freaking out. My heart pounded as I opened the polish. "What color for your hands? Feet?"
"Whatever. I rock all colors."
(Arrogant, but true. Everything looks good on her.)
I picked a shade and started. After her hands, I nudged her. "Feet."
Distracted by her drama, she absently lifted her legs onto my lap.
"How's my work?"
"Fine, fine. Shoo—I'm watching TV."
(Typical.)
I retreated to my room. Alcohol usually knocks people out, but it wires me. Parched and restless, I fiddled with my phone, remembering Jiang Qingqing at the restaurant. On impulse, I messaged her on WeChat.
To my surprise, she replied instantly:
"Can you come back next weekend?"
(Shit.)
Last time, I'd lied about a "10-day business trip." If I said no now, she'd suspect. I typed:
"Yes. Can't wait to see you."
"Really? I'm so curious—who are you?"
"No girlfriend now. After meeting you, I knew you were the one. Broke up with her."
"🙄 Player."
I laid it on thick: "Not a player. Just seizing love. Life's short—how often do you find 'the one'?"
It must've worked. She replied:
"…Are you serious?"
"100%."
"Then let's meet next weekend. If I like you… we'll try dating."
(Oh fuck.)
Now I was screwed. Meeting her? Suicide—she'd murder me if she found out it was me. But refusing? She'd think I catfished her and block me.
(…I'll figure it out later.)
I groaned and flopped onto the bed.