A Heart-to-Heart and a Sister’s Longing

Qin Yage had once believed that a kiss would make her pregnant. Only after personally consulting Aunt Xia did she realize how staggeringly complex the process was—sperm! Fertilized eggs! It was utterly beyond her comprehension. In the end, she distilled it to a single conclusion: kissing didn’t lead to pregnancy. That was all that mattered.

But recalling how she had just lost her temper at her brother, she felt her cheeks flush.

“Why isn’t he back yet!”

Qin Yage stared at the soap opera on TV, and before she knew it, she had dozed off on the sofa.

It was past midnight when Qin An finally returned home. He had spent another few hours chatting with that girl Wang Luoran on a park bench, uncovering some secrets.

“Want to know why I look so much like a boy? I think everyone who hasn’t seen the class roster assumes I’m male,” Wang Luoran said with a self-deprecating smile.

“I’m a bit curious, but I won’t force you if you don’t want to talk about it. Everyone has their secrets, right?”

Qin An felt he had too many secrets himself. If he ever revealed them, mad scientists would surely capture him for experiments, dissecting him into thousands of pieces for analysis.

Wang Luoran continued on her own: “I never had a father since birth—don’t know if he’s dead or alive. My mom raised me alone. Once, some old man came to bully her. The police caught him in the end, but I could only watch as he pulled her hair and tore her clothes to shreds. I hid in the closet, crying silently, cursing the father I’d never met. I wanted to protect my mom.”

Wang Luoran clenched her small fist earnestly. The sight was utterly endearing.

“But girls can’t protect their mothers—only boys can. And if I were a girl, I’d only make Mom worry more. Back then, I thought being a boy would be so much less trouble. I hated being a girl. So gradually, I forgot—or forced myself to forget—that I was one.”

Qin An sighed at his doorstep. Lights blazed from Aunt Xia’s house. Wang Luoran was surely in for a scolding. Would she take his advice? But such things couldn’t change overnight. Going with the flow was the real way.

The night breeze was cool, the air warm. A dim yellow lamp still glowed. The TV played an eternal soap opera. On the gray fabric sofa, cushions and pillows were piled messily, and Qin Yage was snuggled among them, fast asleep.

The little girl wore a nightgown she’d picked up at a street stall—just so she could have two extra lollipops, she’d miraculously bargained with the incredibly stingy vendor for ages. It was a simple little tank top style, with a short hem that barely covered half her thighs. Now, lying down, she revealed an entire slender, shapely leg.

Seeing her sleeping so soundly, Qin An couldn’t bear to wake her. He first pushed open her bedroom door, flipped back the covers, then returned to the sofa to carry her.

Qin Yage’s skin was extremely smooth, slippery like a fish, with hardly any grip. Qin An slid one arm under her knees and the other under her neck, lifting her in a true princess carry.

Qin Yage let out two uncomfortable moans, but her hands instinctively wrapped around Qin An’s neck. With eyes still closed, she murmured drowsily, “Brother… is that you?”

“It’s not me.”

“It is you.” Qin Yage was clearly dissatisfied, her long lashes trembling as if she might wake at any moment.

“Alright, alright, alright. It’s me.”

Only then did Qin Yage contentedly hum an “mmhm,” and fell silent, as if sinking back into slumber, becoming a “sleeping beauty” once more.

Qin An smiled, moved her girly reading materials aside, laid her on the bed, and tucked her in.

He then placed the Hello Kitty hair clip atop the stack of books.

‘May this insignificant little clip accompany you forever, never to be returned to my hands.’

Standing at the door, Qin An looked at the sleeping Qin Yage. A smile tugged unconsciously at the corners of his mouth, tinged with a warm gentleness.

Qin Yage woke up early the next morning, feeling wonderfully refreshed. She sat on the bed, dazed for a bit, in a good mood.

She felt her quality of life had improved dramatically since their parents left. No more of her stingy mom’s nagging. Every morning, there was sweet corn porridge, soy milk, bread, cake, or fried eggs. When bored, she’d just suck on a lollipop and watch soap operas.

Her gaze inadvertently fell on the pile of girly books she’d borrowed from a precocious senior. They were neatly arranged, and on top sat a Hello Kitty hair clip. Qin Yage’s eyes lit up instantly. Anyone would know—her pillows, blanket, sheets, pajamas, even her notebook, all bore that unbearably cute cat.

She had many Hello Kitty clips, but they were all street stall junk—cheap, poor quality, and always the same design as everyone else’s. But this one was a limited edition. Pink crystal, polished smoother than a mirror, emitting a faint warm pink glow in the sunlight. Was it worth ten thousand lollipops? A million? She wasn’t sure, but this was a birthday gift worthy of the name.

Her gaze fell back on the neatly stacked books. Qin Yage let out a loud “Ah!” as red spread across her face like wildfire.

“Damn you, Qin An! Come out here!”

Her clear voice echoed through the empty house.

Qin Yage dashed out of her room and searched the entire house, but there was no sign of Qin An.

“Brother, where are you?” There was a hint of tears in her voice.

Qin Yage sat at the dining table. Even the corn porridge didn’t taste sweet anymore.

On the table was a note: “I’ll be away for the three days of May Day. Brush your teeth before breakfast. If you’re hungry, order delivery. The money is in your wallet. If anything happens, go to Aunt Xia. I’ve bought you lollipops already. Remember: one per hour.”

At the end, he’d drawn a pig head with a lollipop in its mouth.

“Hmph. If I’m a pig, you’re a pig brother.”

“Sigh—” Qin Yage let out a long sigh, hugging a bucket of lollipops. A nine-year-old girl seemed to carry the worries of a nineteen-year-old.

“Brother, how am I supposed to live without you?”

Led by the class monitor, Class 6-2 began a three-day camping trip. Some teachers, school officials, and a few parents also joined.

An Qi had gone abroad with her father, so she didn’t participate in this low-quality camping.

Around ten o’clock, the group reached the camping site. First, they prepared lunch in a clearing in the woods at the foot of the mountain. The plan was to climb to the top after lunch and set up tents there for the night.

It seemed the travel agency had carefully chosen the spot—a flat riverbed made an ideal camping location.

Huang Jiajun had finally escaped her nagging father. What had gotten into him today? He kept praising her nonstop, calling her his good daughter. For a moment, she thought the sun had risen in the west.

Forgetting all ladylike decorum, Huang Jiajun pushed her way out of the crowd. Then she straightened her striped skirt and stepped out in gray-edged canvas shoes, only to see Qin An staring blankly into space.

Above him, the tree canopy spread like a dome. He seemed lost in thought. He always liked sitting under trees—so still compared to his lively walking earlier. The contrast made Huang Jiajun pause for a moment.

In his clear, azure gaze, she thought she saw an indescribable loneliness—a solitude spanning two lifetimes. It was as if everyone around him had fallen silent and colorless, leaving only him standing alone atop the peaks. This loneliness wasn’t visible on the surface, but it dwelled in his heart.

Looking at Qin An, Huang Jiajun felt a slight pang in her heart, an unsettling feeling. She slowly approached him, her still-innocent young heart pounding uncontrollably.

“Qin An, if you don’t help cook, you might end up with nothing to eat.”

“I brought bread and milk. Besides, can you even eat the stuff they’re making like they’re playing house?”

“You…” Huang Jiajun didn’t know what to say. She’d only come to remind him out of kindness, intending to cook together with him. But he still looked like everyone owed him a million dollars.

“Hmph. Starve to death, for all I care.”

“Monitor! Monitor! We can’t start the fire! Come help us!”

“Oh, I’m coming!”

Before leaving, Huang Jiajun shot Qin An a fierce glare.

Though usually lively and known as the “Scourge of the Posh,” in some ways Huang Jiajun was still a proper young lady—she never touched a drop of spring water.

After struggling for ages, she couldn’t produce a single spark. Instead, black smoke rose up, leaving her face and hair covered in soot.

“I give up. I’ll go get the chef.”

The young lady seemed to have forgotten they were camping, not at home.

“What’s wrong, monitor? Can’t even light a fire? So spoiled! And you call this camping! Why don’t you just stay home and wait to get married? Why play the hero?” Chen Chao jeered loudly. Everyone’s eyes turned to Huang Jiajun. Chen Dayong’s lackeys whistled.

Huang Jiajun’s face turned crimson with anger. Her gaze was sharp enough to vaporize Chen Dayong’s group a hundred times over.

Qin An found some branches and dry grass of various sizes nearby. He dug a shallow pit in a sheltered spot, crossed the smallest branches, then took out a lighter from his pocket and lit the dry grass and twigs. Soon, a small, robust fire burned.

He then placed stones around the fire, forming a simple, ventilated stove.

“There. That works.” Qin An dusted off his hands and, ignoring everyone’s astonished looks, returned to the banyan tree to continue sleeping.

Huang Jiajun pouted again. ‘He’s so skilled, yet he insists on eating bread and milk. Just wait until you get diarrhea.’

She cursed him maliciously in her mind, while also glancing back every three seconds to see what Qin An was up to.

‘I wonder if that little girl can survive without me. But with Aunt Xia around, it should be fine.’ Qin An grinned up at the clear blue sky.

Still, letting her live independently for a while was a small training exercise.

Excessive indulgence was an invisible killer. His sister was becoming more and more dependent on him. He felt this deeply. He absolutely must not repeat the same mistake. Qin An reminded himself silently.