She forced a smile and said, “Genius, can I be so bold as to ask you a question?”
Li Yunli wasn’t busy at the moment, so she quickly replied.
—I saw it. Super cool. Have you eaten?
Ji Zhenshi clearly wasn’t satisfied with that response. She frowned slightly. “I ate a little. That’s it?”
—More people will see it later. Keep it up!
Ji Zhenshi couldn’t help grinning as she read it. She replied to Li Yunli while absentmindedly answering, “Go ahead.”
Xia Siyuan gritted her teeth, voicing her deepest inner doubt. “Has Yunli Sis fully stepped into your mom’s role? ‘The eldest sister-in-law is like a mother’—she embodies that to the hilt. Your brother is so lucky.”
Ji Zhenshi’s fingers paused on her keyboard. The curve of her smile vanished as she shot Xia Siyuan a complicated look. “She won’t be registering her marriage with my brother, so she won’t be my sister-in-law. And she hasn’t put herself in a mother’s role either. Don’t mess up the generations like that.”
Even though she knew Xia Siyuan didn’t know the full story and was innocent in her ignorance, that line about her brother being lucky still grated on Ji Zhenshi’s ears.
It wasn’t her brother’s good fortune—it was hers.
Besides, “eldest sister-in-law like a mother”? That would put them in different generations.
Li Yunli had to be on the same level as her!
“Don’t mix up the generations,” Ji Zhenshi emphasized again.
“…Okay.” Sensing the awkward atmosphere and Ji Zhenshi’s unhappy expression, Xia Siyuan wisely dropped it. Ji Zhenshi rarely stressed something so seriously, and Xia Siyuan didn’t press about why her brother and Li Yunli weren’t getting married anymore. Ji Zhenshi never talked much about her family, and Xia Siyuan only knew about her relationship with Li Yunli.
“So, you’ve opened a personal account? How many followers do you have?” Ji Zhenshi smoothly changed the subject to keep things from getting awkward.
Xia Siyuan tapped open her profile. “I’ve been on it forever—had an account ages ago. I’ve got a few thousand followers now. Wanna follow me?”
Ji Zhenshi glanced at it. “Nah, I don’t use this app. But you’ve almost got twenty thousand followers? Did that one video net you ten thousand of them? Is it that viral?”
Xia Siyuan’s account was full of her usual selfies and competition clips. They normally got a few hundred likes, but the pinned school celebration video had over four hundred thousand.
“Yeah, but these followers weren’t freebies. I shelled out a hundred bucks for promotion. I bought traffic for all the ones that got decent likes—must’ve cost me several hundred bucks total. Broke my heart.” Xia Siyuan winced just thinking about it. It was half a month’s living expenses, and clearly money down the drain.
She’d even been thrilled to spend it, like a total idiot.
Ji Zhenshi looked her up and down like she was a fool, then said very seriously, “Xia Siyuan, are you okay? Spending money on a video like that? It’s just throwing cash away. Lucky piano doesn’t require brains, or you never would’ve gotten into our school.”
Xia Siyuan had nimble fingers, but not the sharpest mind.
Ji Zhenshi couldn’t fathom wasting money like that—especially living expenses. She absolutely wouldn’t.
“What if it blows up? We could go viral together—who knows? Life’s unpredictable. Maybe we’re that lucky.” Xia Siyuan playfully nudged Ji Zhenshi’s shoulder and went back to admiring the video.
Ji Zhenshi was speechless. She shook her head and stepped back a few paces to focus on her own practice. Her inspiration was flowing today, her fingers felt great, and the morning session had gone smoothly.
The piano sounded again. Xia Siyuan sat nearby for a while.
One piece after another ended. Ji Zhenshi carefully set down the violin and picked up the water bottle by Xia Siyuan’s leg. Seeing her still there, she asked, “Why are you still hanging around? No classes today?”
They were graduating next month, so things were packed this month—almost no classes. Everyone was busy with graduation prep.
Ji Zhenshi herself had been pulling all-nighters, her back so sore she could barely straighten up, yet still squeezing in practice time. She hadn’t even had a chance to visit Li Yunli.
“No classes today. Got a part-time gig this afternoon.” Xia Siyuan finally looked up from her phone. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the familiar violin Ji Zhenshi had just set down.
She leaned in for a closer look and said in surprise, “Hang on—how’d your violin get back? Didn’t you sell it? Did the buyer back out?”
Ji Zhenshi had been so reluctant when she sold it, all conflicted before finally letting go. And now it was back?
Ji Zhenshi really was full of contradictions.
Ji Zhenshi took a sip of water, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on her neck. She hopped up onto the windowsill. “Nah, I ended up not needing the money, so I didn’t sell. Oh, and I transferred your money back too.”
She stretched her arms wide, leaning back slightly, letting her golden hair sway in the breeze.
It suddenly hit her: Li Yunli was a top-tier university grad, a high achiever. Apart from her gentle personality and being mute, she wasn’t some weak pushover who needed to lean on anyone.
Li Yunli had studied financial management and had even gotten into grad school, though various reasons kept her from going.
Her smarts and emotional intelligence were top-notch—way above average.
“What, did you strike it rich all of a sudden? Win the lottery?” Xia Siyuan walked over to Ji Zhenshi.
Ji Zhenshi swung her long legs lazily. “With my luck? I’d never win once in a lifetime. Like I said, I didn’t need that money. Your comprehension skills are seriously lacking.”
“Tsk tsk. I think you’ve got pretty good luck.” Xia Siyuan thought for a moment, then sincerely gave her a thumbs-up.
“Yeah, yeah, my luck’s great. I’m off to buy a lottery ticket.” Ji Zhenshi looked down at her phone.
A notification popped up—from Li Yunli.
—Free this afternoon? Let’s go shopping. Reward for going a bit viral.
Ji Zhenshi perked up instantly. She rubbed her eyes to make sure she wasn’t seeing things and fired back, “Sure!”
She’d been a little disappointed by Li Yunli’s brief encouragement earlier, but that vanished in a puff of smoke. She was thrilled now.
Li Yunli would never brush her off.
Li Yunli never let her down.
—Mm-hmm. You’ve been so busy lately, no time to unwind. Gotta balance work and rest for max efficiency. Plus, graduation’s coming—want to get you a couple outfits. Time to work, so you need some proper clothes.
Ji Zhenshi jumped to her feet and chuckled twice. “Knew it.”
“Who is it?” Xia Siyuan followed her gaze.
Ji Zhenshi pocketed her phone in a flash, grabbed her backpack, and bolted for the door. She tossed back, “Gotta run! Lock up later and take my violin back for me—thanks!”
Xia Siyuan watched her vanish in seconds. “Hey! I didn’t say I’d do it. Talk about rushing off—whoever thinks I’m hasty hasn’t seen this whirlwind.”
She paused, thinking it over, then muttered with a shake of her head, “Probably possessed. By something called Li Yunli.”
She’d glimpsed the avatar—it was Li Yunli’s, unmistakable even in that quick flash.
Fame hadn’t fazed her, but one message from Li Yunli turned the violin genius senpai into a three-year-old, buzzing with uncontainable excitement.
Ji Zhenshi raced out the school gate. Li Yunli hadn’t arrived yet.
Standing in the locust tree’s shade, Ji Zhenshi plopped ungracefully onto a bench, head thrown back as she gulped down air.
She smacked her forehead. “A bit silly.”
It’d take Li Yunli at least ten minutes to drive over. What was the rush?
Over a week without seeing her, and Ji Zhenshi missed Li Yunli terribly.
The little fortune pouch on her backpack swayed. Ji Zhenshi pinched it, smiling—a perfect case of “seeing the object brings the person to mind.”
“How can you call yourself silly, Xiao Zhen?” Li Yunli stood behind the bench, leaning over slightly to meet Ji Zhenshi’s gaze.
Li Yunli had been at the school gate the whole time. She’d gone for a coffee class that day and, passing by on her way back, asked if Ji Zhenshi wanted to shop.
When Ji Zhenshi agreed, she’d waited in the locust tree shade, figuring she’d be spotted. But Ji Zhenshi barreled straight ahead without a glance. Li Yunli had just caught her muttering self-reproachfully about being silly.
Xiao Zhen was kinda cute.
That was Li Yunli’s private thought.
“Ah! Holy—!” Ji Zhenshi’s upward gaze suddenly filled with a face. Her eyes went from blurry confusion to shock. She sprang up from the bench, staring at Li Yunli in lingering alarm. “Whoa, you scared me! Sister A-Yun, do you float or something? Sneaking up like that is terrifying.”
She glanced aside—Li Yunli wore low heels that made no sound, and she’d gotten here way too fast.
Only five minutes since the message? Did she have teleportation?
Li Yunli straightened, gazing calmly at the startled girl with a soft chuckle. She signed, “Your guard’s just too lax. I’ve been right here, and you didn’t notice. If anyone’s scared, it’s me—you were pretty loud just now.”
She’d been behind Ji Zhenshi for two minutes. Not only had Ji Zhenshi failed to notice, she’d sprawled back on the bench with arms wide, muttering about her own silliness. Her parents would probably cringe at the unladylike display.
But Li Yunli just found it adorable.
“You’ve been here the whole time?” Ji Zhenshi mentally replayed her arrival—no sign of Li Yunli.
“Yes. I just finished class and passed by, so I asked if you wanted to shop. I’ve been waiting right here.” Li Yunli’s lips curved in a gentle smile, her eyes brimming with endless tenderness as she watched Ji Zhenshi.
Her beautiful, slender fingers danced fluidly in sign language.
Ji Zhenshi had always known Li Yunli made signing an art form—the only language truly meant to be watched, a window into the soul. You could tell just by looking: this person was incredibly gentle.
“But how can you call yourself silly, Xiao Zhen?” Li Yunli signed, reaching out and referencing the cute moment she’d caught.
Ji Zhenshi slipped her hand into Li Yunli’s palm, their fingers interlocking familiarly. “Forget it! I was just mumbling to myself.”
Because my heart couldn’t wait to see you.
She tugged Li Yunli closer, cutting off any chance for teasing. “Shopping time! I haven’t left campus in forever. Been so swamped lately—graduation anxiety hitting. No clue where I’ll land after. Lots of folks prepped months ago.”
“So, where do you want to go after graduation?”
“Thought about joining an orchestra, but haven’t found the right one. Maybe my standards are too high. Nothing feels quite right.”
Ji Zhenshi was dead set on violin, no question. She didn’t want to be boxed in. The path she craved was tough, but she wanted to roll the dice.
Li Yunli looked at her, eyes softening. “Then wait. Don’t settle.”
Ji Zhenshi hadn’t spelled it out, but Li Yunli seemed to get it anyway. She didn’t pry, just urged her not to compromise.
With nothing to lose, there was nothing to fear.
“OK! If I go broke, Sister A-Yun will take care of me.” Ji Zhenshi pumped her fist triumphantly, the encouragement lifting her spirits. She nearly dragged Li Yunli into a run.
With Ji Zhenshi’s long legs, Li Yunli couldn’t keep up and let go, smiling indulgently. “In your dreams. I’m not feeding a little slacker.”
Ji Zhenshi jogged backward ahead, shrugging with supreme confidence. “You will.”
Her eyes seemed to say: Li Yunli, you’re stuck with me.
The young woman’s smug assurance, utterly convinced of the woman’s special feelings for her.
Li Yunli smiled faintly, helplessly opening the car door. “Cocky Ji Genius.”
Though it was “shopping,” Li Yunli drove straight to a clothing store. “Pick something you like. Remember—no casual stuff like what you’re wearing. Something more formal.”
Li Yunli set boundaries this time, not indulging her whims.
Li Yunli favored simple, muted styles, while Ji Zhenshi went for bold pops of color, metallic accents. She rarely donned elegant gowns for performances—her style was more free-spirited and wild.
Ji Zhenshi had expected real shopping, but clothes hunting killed her enthusiasm. She leaned an elbow against the wall. “You pick. You’ve got great taste—I trust you.”
“You and your play-it-by-ear attitude.” Li Yunli poked Ji Zhenshi’s shoulder lightly with a fingertip, shooting a glare at the naughty one.
Since Ji Zhenshi wouldn’t choose, Li Yunli would.
She turned and stepped inside, starting to browse, picturing Ji Zhenshi in each piece.
Ji Zhenshi trailed her like a shadow, straw between her teeth, clutching her cup—obedient and well-behaved as Li Yunli occasionally held up items to gauge the fit.
Their eyes met unexpectedly. Ji Zhenshi blinked innocently back, her puppyish expression amplified by the straw.
Xiao Zhen was so good, so pinchable.
Li Yunli’s heart softened instantly, her gaze surging with hidden warmth for a split second before she masked it—like a fleeting illusion.
“Hm?” Ji Zhenshi caught the brief distraction and leaned in.
Those brows and eyes packed a punch, like an invisible hook.
Li Yunli stiffly looked away and handed her a shirt. “Try it on. See if it fits.”
Ji Zhenshi hugged the clothes, noting the deliberate avoidance. She sneakily hooked Li Yunli’s pinky. “The zipper on my shirt’s in the back. Gotta unzip it to take it off.”
Her tentative whine sounded genuinely troubled by the zipper.
Li Yunli nodded and mouthed, “I’ll come with you.”
Throwing another tantrum. A wolf that could bite, pretending to be a little milk cat.
No need to play cute—Li Yunli wouldn’t refuse anyway.
