Before picking up the phone, one must assume the proper posture and mindset.
Her head settled against the pillow, feet tucked snugly under the covers, body stretched out flat in ultimate comfort. Only then could she snatch up her phone and tap the accept button.
This was the basic protocol for any self-respecting couch potato committed to savoring life.
“Hey? Sister Liang? Hmm…? Why’s there no video? Did I lag, or did you? It’s pitch black over here.”
“Ah…! Sorry, sorry, Little Bai. I was just hanging up my towel too close to the phone. Let me step back a bit… There, is it clear now?”
…
It was clear.
Crystal clear.
Sister Liang’s face—so perpetually gentle, like spring rain pattering into a tranquil pond—snapped into perfect focus at the center of the screen. Her smile bloomed warm and soothing, like a spring breeze.
But what had Little Zhibai so stunned?
Simple enough.
Focusing a video call from close-up to full shot takes a moment. The nearest part to the lens has to pull back first before the whole person fills the frame.
And moments ago, Ye Zhibai had distinctly seen the first thing to retreat from focus: Sister Liang’s firm bosom, snugly wrapped beneath the thin, pale purple cotton of her pajamas.
She hadn’t even bent forward far enough to block the phone while hanging the towel.
It was just that enviably proud figure of hers working its magic.
Worthy of awe.
“Little Bai? What’s up? Still blurry? Shouldn’t be—I can see you fine.”
“No, it’s perfectly clear. This late, Sister Liang, and you’re not in bed yet? Hanging a towel… just out of the shower?”
“Mm-hmm, fresh from the shower. Just calling to check if Little Bai’s asleep yet~” On-screen, Chi Yuliang ran a wooden comb delicately through her still-damp purple locks, exuding a hazy, ethereal beauty. “I hit the treadmill for half an hour to work out earlier—worked up a sweat. Sigh… Sis has been thinking about grabbing a new sports bra. The old one’s too snug, especially around the chest. Uncomfortable as hell.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Hm?”
“I mean, no slacking on that. Proper fit matters—a lot. Especially for workouts… Uh, Sister Liang, you said treadmill?”
Chi Yuliang set the comb aside.
She turned fully toward the phone screen, as if loath to let anything distract her from her call with Ye Zhibai.
“Yeah! The balcony’s got this old treadmill we bought ages ago. Mom impulse-ordered it online on a whim, but she and Dad drag themselves home from work dead on their feet—no way they’re running. I don’t come back often, so while I’m here, figured I’d put it to use.”
“Ohh, gotcha. That’s smart. Girls running outside at night isn’t safe—way better to have one at home.”
“Pfft… Listen to you, talking like it’s someone else’s business. Time for you to step up your girl game too~ Mm, speaking of which, remember what I said last time? Exercise regularly—morning jogs, evening runs, doesn’t matter the length, just build that stamina. Has my Little Bai been a good girl?”
…
Doomed.
These two were total fitness maniacs.
They weren’t just paying lip service—they actually did it, every single day!
Yun’er with her morning runs, Sister Liang and her evenings.
And me?
I slept until I was stuffed.
Talk about a gap!
Still, under Sister Liang’s earnest gaze—those expectant, sparkling eyes—
Ye Zhibai’s reply rang true, without a shred of guilt.
“Yes, I work out too. High-intensity stuff.”
No embarrassment, no rush.
Pure zen mindset.
Chi Yuliang lit up like a firework, clapping her hands as affection swirled in her dark, starry eyes.
“Not my Little Bai for nothing~ Such a good girl. Keep it up, yeah? But… high-intensity? Sis doesn’t recommend it. Hurt yourself in the name of fitness, and you’ve lost the plot. Right?”
“Spot on. Moderation’s key in workouts—I’ve got some wisdom there.” Watching Sister Liang chuckle on-screen lifted Ye Zhibai’s spirits too.
Who said phone calls needed an agenda?
A few spare minutes post-shower, combing her hair while shooting the breeze with family? Bliss.
And if it was chit-chat, Ye Zhibai wouldn’t hold back.
Curiosity was, after all, the basic building block of Little Zhibai.
“By the way… Sister Liang, why’d you switch your profile pic to something so retro?”
“Eh? Doesn’t suit me?”
“No, it’s cute. Just… doesn’t scream modern youth.”
“Ah, that? Haha, fair. Everyone’s got kittens or puppies, anime avatars, or those super flashy emo vibes these days, right? Sis gets it!”
No, no, Sister Liang… flashy emo was retro now too.
Straight-up Renaissance.
Chi Yuliang puffed out her chest with confidence, expounding on her take before her gaze softened on the phone screen.
“But honestly… I love this new one. Puts me in a great mood every time.”
“The blue ocean, sky, fluffy clouds? Super open and freeing?”
“Nope. I just see you in it, Little Bai.”
…
Ye Zhibai’s arms sprang into action before her brain caught up.
She flicked back to Sister Liang’s profile pic, held her phone high and pulled it far away, then drew it close again.
Some trendy pics online played tricks like that—different images zoomed in versus out.
But honestly?
Sister Liang, this one’s the same right-side up or upside down. Zero trace of me!
At best, a lone leaf.
Seeing Little Bai’s burning curiosity, Chi Yuliang couldn’t bear to string her along.
She knew all too well: Little Bai’s curiosity was insatiable.
Back in the day, she’d spot a stag beetle in the old compound and just had to poke it—see if it’d pinch. Minutes later? Giggles turned to wails.
Fond memories bubbling up, Chi Yuliang unpacked the avatar’s meaning.
“Take a closer look, Little Bai. Sent you the original pic—open it up.”
“Mm, got it open.”
“See the elements? Vast sky, drifting white clouds, a leaf twirling on the breeze along the river below. Bottom left: the riverbank where it all meets, bursting with flowers. Gorgeous, right?”
Oh, true.
The circular avatar had cropped it out, but the full square image revealed that bank.
And with that setup, Chi Yuliang could share her special brand of romance.
“Look up top, Little Bai: the leaf dances with the wind downriver, swaying but never falling. That’s ‘Ye’.”
“Then the left bank below: as the ancients said, ‘banks of orchids and irises’—the river’s edge where flowers bloom just right, begging a pause. That’s ‘Zhi’.”
“Blue seas and skies, lazy white clouds, the leaf soaring free, pure and unblemished. That’s ‘Bai’.”
“So there you have it: Ye, Zhi, Bai—all perfectly captured. And get this! It’s not just that. See how the leaf drifts so far without sinking into the river? Straining toward the shore. Doesn’t it feel like it’s got dreams of reaching land—or maybe something up there’s waiting for it? Kinda like us, right? You’ve pushed through all those hardships, staying strong on your path, while I’ve been waiting right here on the shore! And now we meet on this ‘shore’—just like the leaf crossing the river! Ah… sorry, too cheesy? I know our generation’s not big on this stuff…”
…
You call this… not trendy?
Don’t ask.
Just know Little Zhibai was floored.
Good thing I didn’t apply to Capital University.
My cultural chops wouldn’t cut it!
