The Price of a Child Bride

High school, in her memory, felt rather distant.

Before her rebirth, Xi Yao had been an unremarkable third-year university student, much like her peers, having spent three years growing into a seasoned slacker, content to idle away her days in the dorm.

The fervent days of high school had long since faded from her memory, a fact compounded by the significant differences between the schools of this world and those of her previous life.

So she truly couldn’t fathom the identity of the person she encountered barely once a month on campus.

‘Never mind, I won’t dwell on it,’ Xi Yao murmured, gently rubbing her shoulder. ‘It’s better to focus on tonight first.’

The original owner had simply up and died, leaving behind a mountain of troubles for Xi Yao, not least of which was her identity as ‘Xi Ruo’s child bride (TL Note: A girl raised in a family to eventually marry a son, or in this case, another girl, often for economic reasons or to strengthen family ties).’

Xi Yao harbored no strong feelings about this ‘child bride’ status. After all, both she and Xi Ruo were still students, and… much like the original owner’s own sentiments, it meant having a family to rely on without any apparent immediate obligations. There was nothing, it seemed, to truly resist.

Moreover, while Xi Ruo might be a touch aloof, she was undeniably beautiful and reputed to be exceptionally brilliant—a virtually perfect girl, save for her temperament.

However, Xi Yao now found herself grappling with two pressing issues.

One issue concerned a ‘peach blossom debt’ (TL Note: A romantic entanglement or unresolved romantic obligation) the original owner had left behind at school, the identity of the other party completely unknown to Xi Yao.

The other, more immediate problem, stemmed from the events of today…

****

Though the August sun had been relentless, even the most persistent sun must eventually yield to dusk. By past eight o’clock, the sky had begun to steadily darken.

Xi Yao emerged from her private chambers, moving stealthily towards Xi Ruo’s room. The Xi family resided in a two-story maisonette, with Xi Yao’s room situated on the second floor and Xi Ruo’s on the first.

Descending the staircase, she noted the living room on the opposite side of the corridor, from which she could faintly discern sounds, presumably Madam Xi watching television. Xi Yao softly padded along the corridor, her heart thrumming nervously.

‘If I’m caught,’ she thought, ‘I’ll just say I was going to ask my sister for help with homework.’

Fortunately, Madam Xi was so engrossed in her television program that she failed to notice any stirrings outside, allowing Xi Yao to reach Xi Ruo’s doorway unmolested.

She raised a hand and knocked. *Dong, dong, dong.*

The door opened instantly, as if its occupant had been anticipating her arrival. Xi Ruo leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, her expression utterly devoid of emotion:

‘Come in.’

Her soft, long black hair, freshly combed, exuded a faint, pleasant scent of shampoo. Dressed in a crisp white shirt adorned with a bow tie, the girl’s poised, slender figure radiated an undeniable charm. Her delicate, long legs, encased in black thigh-high stockings, added a touch of refined elegance to her already striking, ice-cold beauty.

Xi Yao, by contrast, was still clad in her midday attire: an oversized, loose-fitting T-shirt with its collar askew, revealing a delicate shoulder, and her long, straight white hair falling carelessly around her. She looked, unmistakably, like a quintessential homebody.

A particularly beautiful, remarkably cute, and notably well-endowed homebody.

At lunch, having been in a foul mood, Xi Ruo had barely registered Xi Yao’s appearance. Now, upon closer inspection, she realized that Xi Yao’s attire was anything but innocent.

She couldn’t help but let out a cold, derisive laugh. ‘Hmph.’

Xi Yao was bewildered by Xi Ruo’s sudden sneer, but the memory of the diary’s contents immediately brought a wave of unease.

‘Wait, why am I feeling guilty?’ she thought. ‘That was the original owner’s doing, not mine.’

‘Sacred Severance! I shall perform a righteous cut, right here and now!’

‘What, are you afraid?’ Xi Ruo inquired, noting the rapid shifts in Xi Yao’s expression. ‘Or have you come to regret it?’

‘No,’ Xi Yao replied, lifting a slender leg as she stepped into the room. ‘Well… I’m already here, after all.’

‘Since I’ve already come all this way, what is there to regret now?’

Xi Ruo’s room appeared somewhat larger than her own, yet a closer look revealed its spaciousness stemmed from its sheer simplicity, being utterly devoid of extraneous decorations or furnishings.

Xi Yao settled onto the edge of the bed, and Xi Ruo took a seat beside her, a delicate blend of milky sweetness and zesty lime wafting through the air.

‘Since you’ve come, I presume you’ve made your resolve,’ Xi Ruo said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. ‘From today onwards, you will obey me. Do you understand?’

Her commanding demeanor was such that Xi Yao couldn’t help but feel a fleeting flutter in her heart.

‘I understand, perfectly,’ the girl straightened up obediently. ‘So, what is it you wish for me to do today?’

When she had been discovered that afternoon, Xi Yao’s sole concern was to pay the smallest possible price to ensure Xi Ruo kept her secret. Yet, after reading the diary and discovering the monumental mess the original owner had created, her perspective had entirely shifted.

As long as Xi Ruo remained ignorant of that particular detail, anything else was acceptable.

‘I want…’

Xi Ruo’s gaze swept deliberately over Xi Yao’s form.

When Xi Yao had first arrived at their home, Xi Ruo had been utterly captivated by her exceptionally well-developed figure, and had, countless times, harbored daydreams.

But today…

‘Give me your hand,’ Xi Ruo uttered, her voice a chill pronouncement of four words.

Xi Yao blinked innocently. ‘What?’

Too impatient to repeat herself, Xi Ruo moved swiftly, grasping Xi Yao’s delicate hand in a firm grip.

A soft gasp escaped her lips…

An ineffable sensation of pure bliss surged through her. Three years—a full three years of waiting, three years of unspoken longing—culminated in this very moment.

Smooth as silk, as yielding as warm jade—it was precisely as she had imagined, perfectly so.

‘This is truly wonderful.’

Watching the intensely focused and utterly lost-in-the-moment girl beside her, Xi Yao’s lips twitched involuntarily.

‘So, it really was just holding hands.’

After a beat of silence, she couldn’t help but inquire, ‘Xi Ruo, have you ever watched *Jojo*?’

‘No,’ Xi Ruo replied, casting a sidelong glance at her. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Nothing, really.’

‘I thought you might have taken lessons from Yoshikage Kira,’ she mused. ‘But since you haven’t, it appears you’re simply a natural talent.’

However, as Xi Yao perceived the depth of Xi Ruo’s happiness, a sudden pang of sympathy pierced her.

Her own child bride had spurned her for three long years, all the while believing the girl was merely too innocent and shy, prompting her to continue enduring and patiently waiting. Little did she know, the true reason for the rejection was that her beloved had already secretly given her heart to another.

The pain was profound, an utter desolation that left one’s entire world in ruins.

Had Xi Yao not been reborn and replaced the original owner, Xi Ruo wouldn’t even have this small comfort of holding hands now.

As Xi Ruo turned her head, her eyes met Xi Yao’s sympathetic gaze. While she couldn’t decipher its meaning, she found the look undeniably peculiar.

She merely snorted, deeming any explanation superfluous.

‘Indeed, how could anyone else possibly comprehend the depths of her feelings?’

Three years had passed since Xi Yao was brought into their home, yet in all that time, the two of them had made absolutely no progress. Xi Ruo had first attempted to hold hands two and a half years prior, but until this very day, her efforts had remained fruitless.

It was as though her life had been stuck on a particular level, specifically the ‘holding hands’ stage, for an eternity.

Now, with the success of holding hands, the origin understood, and a three-year obstacle finally overcome, the future suddenly seemed to stretch out, brilliantly clear.

Holding hands was merely a beginning; everything that followed, she mused, would surely proceed with remarkable smoothness. Conveniently, this also aligned perfectly with Madam Xi’s philosophy of ‘gradual progression.’

At this thought, Xi Ruo’s lips curved into a subtle smile. ‘Don’t celebrate too soon. Today it’s merely inconvenient being at home. You’ll have plenty to look forward to later, understand?’

‘I understand, I understand,’ Xi Yao nodded obediently.

‘Whatever you say, goes.’