The Little Brain Tiger Awakens

A sense of unease settled over Bai Jingjing.

She was looking at her old draft, a very simple, everyday story.

It depicted a kind and beautiful older sister teacher, deeply concerned about her pretty student’s academic performance.

The student herself was a little anxious, as final exams were fast approaching, and failing would mean remedial classes.

Under these circumstances, the older sister teacher proactively suggested that the student come to her home for tutoring, which the student gladly accepted.

The tutoring to prepare for the exams was essentially a ‘sea of questions’ tactic (TL Note: A common Chinese study method, ‘tíhǎi zhànshù,’ literally ‘sea of questions tactic,’ where students solve a vast number of practice problems to prepare for exams.), with the more problems and the greater their difficulty, the better.

The student worked from afternoon until evening, becoming utterly disoriented and struggling to breathe from the sheer volume.

The older sister teacher thoughtfully brought her a cup of hot tea, suggesting she take a break.

The student nodded, drank about half a cup of tea, and rested on the sofa, growing increasingly sleepy without realizing it.

When she awoke, she found herself lying in bed, her hands bound to the headboard with a soft ribbon, while the older sister teacher sat by the bed, smiling gently…

“Mmm.”

‘Perhaps it wasn’t so ‘everyday’ after all.’

Such was the plot, after all; it was merely an inconsequential subject, not requiring an exceptionally ingenious design.

It only needed to be relatable to life, offering room for immersion and imagination.

Bai Jingjing recalled how she had drawn it.

The initial, main plot section was straightforward, drawn entirely according to the client’s—Liu Wanqing’s—specifications.

The latter part, however, which occupied over two-thirds of the comic’s length, was its climactic ‘battle’ sequence.

When Bai Jingjing first drew it, it wasn’t particularly difficult.

She just had to draw fewer clothes, then depict the two characters fitting together like gears, without needing to illustrate explicit details.

A few sound bubbles and curves indicating vectors of action would suffice.

Readers of the comic would naturally immerse themselves and imagine the rest.

This was a technique her seniors in the artist group had taught her, and she had indeed drawn it that way.

At the time, Bai Jingjing had even tried to immerse herself and imagine, but she felt nothing.

‘Perhaps it was because I was still a male otaku back then, unable to immerse myself in a girl’s storyline.’

But therein lay the problem.

Now, as she revisited the work as a girl, Bai Jingjing felt a peculiar sensation.

Especially since she bore a striking resemblance to the girl in the story.

As she continued to read, her legs unconsciously pressed together.

‘Oh no, my little brain tiger (TL Note: ‘xiǎo nǎohǔ,’ literally ‘little brain tiger,’ a playful internet slang term often used as a euphemism for sexual urges or a ‘horny mind.’) seems to be hungry.’

‘And it’s almost crying from hunger!’

****

[Eylla: I’m telling you, my conscience is clear.]

Luo Xuan sent this message, feeling utterly unburdened.

She had found a girlfriend for her best friend, who was diligent and even risked herself to personally train Bai Jingjing, ensuring she could give her best friend the ultimate experience.

As for what kind of risk she took, it was, of course, the risk of succumbing to depravity.

Just think, how pure and innocent Luo Xuan, a wealthy young lady from Chenyan, once was.

Yet, for her best friend’s happiness, she didn’t hesitate to test it herself—all for her best friend.

It was like how important figures in ancient times had someone taste their food for poison before they ate.

However, they tested for protein toxins, biological toxins, and alkaline toxins, while Luo Xuan tested for the poison of spiritual corruption.

Tell me, is that not utter devotion?

[Lemon: You speak so grandiosely, but you found the person, so why don’t you enjoy them yourself?]

[Eylla: Heh, I’m not like you, you lewd loli (TL Note: ‘sè luólì,’ a slang term meaning ‘lewd loli’ or ‘pervy loli.’), with such a small brain full of nothing but these thoughts.]

Luo Xuan remained entirely unburdened.

She had to be worthy of her best friend; as long as Bai Jingjing didn’t explicitly ask, she would absolutely not engage in anything lewd.

Even if Bai Jingjing did ask, she would sternly refuse, at least not agreeing until her best friend had experienced it.

After all, the training was over!

“Um, Sister Luo.”

Bai Jingjing’s voice suddenly rang out from the doorway, and for some reason, it sounded tinged with a delicate softness.

“What is it, Bai Jing… mmm.”

Luo Xuan looked up to see the girl standing gracefully in the doorway, her underwear looking like a few ribbons wrapped around her breasts.

The dim light from the room, not particularly bright, cast an ambiguous glow.

The bedroom’s light, with its low wattage, wasn’t very bright to begin with, but as it fell upon her breasts, they appeared exceptionally fair.

Fair, too fair.

“Bai Jingjing, you… why are you wearing underwear like that?” Luo Xuan managed to stammer out a question.

What was going on? This was far more suggestive than anything that lewd loli, Lemon, would do.

Bai Jingjing blinked blankly: “But Sister Luo, this underwear isn’t what you bought for me?”

“I bought it for you… Oh, right, I did buy it for you.”

Luo Xuan remembered, and just as she was about to come up with an excuse, she suddenly noticed a small detail was off.

Why was Bai Jingjing blinking ‘blankly’ and not innocently?

She used to blink so innocently.

“Um, Bai Jingjing,” Luo Xuan sensed something was amiss, “Did something happen for you to suddenly be like this?”

Bai Jingjing instinctively nodded.

‘So much has happened, Sister Luo, my little brain tiger has entered its rebellious phase.’

“Sister Luo, I think I still need some more training,” Bai Jingjing pondered how to phrase it, “—the content you taught me before.”

Luo Xuan’s heart pounded erratically.

‘No, I can’t. I just made a firm resolution to be worthy of my best friend, worthy of my utter devotion.’

“Bai Jingjing, didn’t you tell me before,” Luo Xuan’s gaze drifted, “that what I taught you was already enough?”

Bai Jingjing thought for a moment: “It was enough, but knowledge, once learned, needs immediate review, otherwise it’s quickly forgotten.”

After a few seconds of pause, she added: “This is called the Ebbinghaus curve (TL Note: The Ebbinghaus forgetting curve, a psychological concept describing the decline of memory retention over time.).”

“But,” Luo Xuan’s mind reeled, “But we…”

While she was still searching for words, Bai Jingjing had already slipped into the bed, her small hand pulling the covers, her eyes blinking at her.

“Can we, please~?”

Luo Xuan took a deep breath and gritted her teeth.

“Fine, I’ll teach you for one more night.”

‘While it might be a little unfair to my best friend, it’s also a good thing, isn’t it? Look, her proficiency has improved.’

‘Don’t ask, if you ask, it’s utter devotion.’

****

It was a dark and stormy night (TL Note: A dramatic idiom often used humorously to set the scene for intense or ‘dangerous’ events.), and two little brain tigers ‘ao-wu ao-wu’ (onomatopoeia for tiger growls/cries), gnawed at each other, eventually both being ‘beaten to tears’ by the other.

Tears soaked the bedsheets and also dampened two pairs of beautiful legs, like ivory white jade.

Thus, Luo Xuan was woken up early in the morning.

“Sister Luo, please get up for a moment, I need to change the bedsheets,” Bai Jingjing gently coaxed, “Otherwise, you might catch a cold.”

Luo Xuan groggily climbed out of bed, standing by to watch her change the sheets, muttering ‘utter devotion,’ ‘utter devotion’ under her breath.

After the sheets were changed, she went back to sleep for a morning nap; last night’s ‘little brain tiger’ fight had expended too much energy, and she needed a good rest.

As for the Central Hospital, they would just have to go tomorrow.

Bai Jingjing, however, couldn’t sleep.

Her physical reserves were still good, and while she was still alert, she needed to think more.

Last night, she had been reviewing her old work specifically to understand Liu Wanqing, to prepare for next month’s tutoring.

‘Knowing yourself and knowing your enemy ensures victory in a hundred battles.’

Unexpectedly, she ended up fighting a hundred rounds with Luo Xuan instead.

‘What in the world happened?’