Tang Lian pulled her hand back. The skin on her palm had been warmed by the heat radiating from Nan Qi’s forehead, giving her a strangely enchanting sensation.
She looked with amusement at the woman before her, who seemed on the verge of melting. White steam might as well have been billowing from Nan Qi’s head—like water coming to a boil. It wasn’t all that different from her current state.
Tang Lian pressed her fingers together to form a makeshift fan and wafted a breeze over the deepest flush on Nan Qi’s cheeks. With a laugh in her voice, she asked, “Feeling any better now?”
A gentle, soothing coolness washed over Nan Qi with the motion, carrying the faint silhouette of those slender fingers fluttering in the air.
But the moment she remembered that it was Tang Lian who’d stirred up her unrest, Nan Qi had no intention of giving her a civil reply.
She turned her face away and shot Tang Lian a childish glare, not bothering with a single word.
Seeing this, Tang Lian’s grin widened. She fought hard not to burst out laughing right in front of her.
From an angle Nan Qi couldn’t see, she pinched her thigh fiercely.
Unaware of where she was pinching, she hit the same spot she’d bruised that evening in Nan Qi’s car. The lingering pain was still there, probably marked by a dark bruise already. As her fingers dug in, a sharp sting shot through her. Any harder, and she had to grit her teeth and suck in a breath to endure it.
Tang Lian thought to herself, To win over this woman, I’ve taken way too many hits.
Her faint gasp went unnoticed by Nan Qi.
Nan Qi found that hand waving incessantly in front of her face utterly irritating, as if it were deliberately reminding her of all the scenes she’d accidentally glimpsed earlier. She was just about to swat it away when a rapid-fire montage flashed through her mind, making her hesitate to touch Tang Lian’s skin. In the end, she restrained herself and stayed still.
But Tang Lian clearly had no sense of when to stop.
Her curiosity piqued, she voiced it outright. “Hmm, these are uncut clips. What, you’ve never seen any?”
She tossed out the term Nan Qi was too embarrassed to utter herself.
Her light, teasing tone was like a spark in the dark, reigniting all of Nan Qi’s earlier impulses.
Without a second thought, Nan Qi swatted away the hand fanning her.
She tilted her chin up, hiding her inner turmoil behind a forceful declaration. “No, I haven’t!”
Hiss—
The answer was right on cue.
Though Tang Lian had expected it, hearing it straight from Nan Qi’s lips still drew a sigh of emotion from her.
“How have you gone through life without ever encountering these? They’re priceless study material.” Tang Lian sounded as if Nan Qi had truly missed out on something monumental.
Nan Qi: “So that’s what you call them—study material.”
Nan Qi’s knowledge on the subject was sorely limited; she didn’t even know the slang.
All her adolescent hormones—or her sexual awakening, really—had stemmed from Bo Ranying. The intimate moments they’d shared had toed the line of friendship, driven by pure instinct from the heart. She’d never been attracted to anyone else.
Every ounce of emotion in her life had gone, unreservedly, to Bo Ranying.
The rest of her energy had poured into her studies and work. Back in high school, when she’d learned her parents wanted to send her back to the orphanage, she’d resolved to study hard and make her own money. She refused to be a burden in their eyes.
That mindset had even influenced her choice of major in college.
For all these years, her life had revolved around just two priorities:
1. Pursuing Bo Ranying.
2. Earning money like her life depended on it.
She’d spent decades achieving the second.
The first had proven too difficult. She’d given up, let go—and now she was ready to cross it off her life’s to-do list.
In short, Nan Qi’s twenty-six years had been utterly dull.
Hearing Nan Qi’s deadpan tone as she delivered her solemn judgment, Tang Lian nodded sagely in agreement. “Mm!”
“They’re definitely high-quality educational films.”
Nan Qi’s lips remained pursed. “Sounds pretty smutty to me.”
The flush still colored the woman’s pale face, her eyes tinged pink at the corners from the heat of her embarrassment. Her pupils glistened like melting glacier water, robbed of any intimidation. Her body trembled faintly, but her expression stayed stern—a mix of reproach and disapproval, brimming with unspoken criticism of Tang Lian’s words.
It made Tang Lian want to take a bite.
To capture those taut cheeks between her lips and see if Nan Qi could keep up her prim objections.
Restraining the urge bubbling within her, Tang Lian spoke to Nan Qi with earnest sincerity. “That’s just your prejudice talking~ These clips have plots, you know. Sure, they’re packed with the good stuff from start to finish, but they’re not all mindless like you think.”
Nan Qi latched onto the phrasing that could lead to misunderstandings and shot back without hesitation. “I wasn’t thinking anything.”
She emphasized every word, desperate to keep Tang Lian from pinning any labels on her.
She was practically ready to lay her resolve bare.
“To shatter that prejudice, let Big Sister give you a lesson~”
Tang Lian suddenly bent at the waist, bracing one hand on the floor as she leaned in close to Nan Qi, their eyes level. Her black wavy long curls cascaded down her back with the movement, a few strands clinging to her parted, crimson lips. The clash of black and red under the dim, hazy light made her features endlessly alluring and seductive. Some strands swirled through the air before landing on Nan Qi’s shoulder, enveloping her in Tang Lian’s scent.
Her breath was warm and orchid-sweet as she murmured softly, “Spot check: When did you first fall for a girl?”
Nan Qi brushed the long curls from her shoulder, pulling herself free from Tang Lian’s enveloping presence. Frowning, she corrected her. “Who’s Big Sister?”
The term inexplicably made her feel overshadowed by Tang Lian, prompting her to call it out.
She instinctively got hung up on the detail.
Tang Lian froze for a moment, then slowly smiled.
She murmured something too soft for Nan Qi to catch:
Sure enough, we both fixate on these little titles in such curious ways.
Since it mattered to Nan Qi, Tang Lian followed her lead and they swapped age details.
Now they knew each other’s birthdays.
Tang Lian was a Gemini, one year younger than Nan Qi, born in June.
Nan Qi’s was on the Winter Solstice.
Her twenty-seventh birthday wasn’t far off.
Tang Lian quickly adjusted her wording, cooing playfully, “Now you’re the Big Sister, Nan Qi.”
Then, with wide-eyed envy, she gushed, “Wow, being born on the Winter Solstice is amazing! You get to eat dumplings in every flavor, hot pot, roasted meats around the fire—all while celebrating the holiday. It’s like double birthdays!”
As she spoke, Tang Lian’s eyes sparkled with genuine delight, her whole face lighting up with an infectious glow that dispelled any doubt about her sincerity.
Nan Qi’s body went rigid for an instant. She studied Tang Lian’s expression closely and found herself swayed by the sparkle in her eyes and her bubbling enthusiasm. She could tell Tang Lian was truly happy for her.
That kind of unconditional praise was impossible not to welcome.
In that moment, memories flooded back.
People she’d met, offhand comments that had stuck with her.
As an orphan, she didn’t actually know her birthdate.
The director of the orphanage had picked one for her—the day she’d arrived, which happened to be the Winter Solstice. That became her official birthday, and she’d never bothered explaining otherwise. People assumed it was real.
Once folks learned of it, more than a few had sighed at her. “No wonder you’re so aloof.”
Puzzled, she’d ask why.
They’d elaborate: “The Winter Solstice—big snow season. Makes you cold by nature, chilly to everyone, always so frosty.”
Even her parents complained about it often, saying she was too distant, nothing like the “cozy little jacket” of the saying.
She didn’t care what strangers thought.
But her parents’ words had carved a lasting scar. After that, a rebellious streak took hold; she grew even quieter at home, mostly silent.
Only now did she realize the Winter Solstice birthday could have such a warm spin.
Her whole being softened involuntarily, her heart cradled in plush cotton, tenderly nurtured.
Tang Lian went on. “I remember Linxi gets snow around the Winter Solstice. When it first falls, it’s soft and powdery on the ground, melting quick into water. By the next day, it piles up into these clean, fluffy little mounds—like Big Sister right now. One little push, and over you go.”
Tang Lian gazed deeply into her eyes, sliding her palm from the floor to Nan Qi’s shoulder.
Those hands seemed laced with magic.
Without any real force, Nan Qi’s body tilted backward, swaying for a moment before she regained her balance.
As she wobbled, Tang Lian swiftly cupped the back of her head to keep her from actually falling.
Nan Qi didn’t even have time to protest. Her vision was filled with Tang Lian’s beaming face, lit up with a sly, self-satisfied glee that was equal parts triumphant and utterly adorable.
Tang Lian lifted her chin proudly. “See? I told you—Big Sister topples with just one push.”
“I wasn’t ready for that,” Nan Qi shot back. “Your move was too sudden.”
Who knew you’d shove me out of nowhere? And you were standing so close at the start—I was already on edge.
Nan Qi grumbled to herself in silence.
“Now, Big Sister has to answer my questions properly, okay?”
Tang Lian didn’t care if Nan Qi accepted the deal or not. She seized the opening and ran with it, scheming for all she was worth while Nan Qi was still too dazed to think straight.
“First question—the same one from before.”
“You can’t just grill me and leave it at that.”
“I told you, I’m the Big Sister here. I get to trade questions with you too.” Nan Qi bargained on instinct.
Tang Lian blinked in mild surprise, then nodded. “Of course.”
Only then did Nan Qi begin to rummage through her memories. Tang Lian must have been asking about the first girl she’d ever liked.
She didn’t even have to think about it. The words tumbled out. “Sixteen.”
It was her first year of high school—the same year she and Bo Ranying had become friends.
That tiny seed in her heart had taken root and quietly sprouted amid the passage of years.
It wasn’t long before Tang Lian fired off her second question.
“So, when was your first relationship?”
A shadow crossed Nan Qi’s face. She paused for a couple of seconds before answering softly, “I’ve never been in one.”
In that instant, Tang Lian pieced together all the little details about Nan Qi and Bo Ranying. They formed a clear, unmistakable thread in her mind.
So Nan Qi had been carrying a torch for Bo Ranying since all the way back then.
![My Golden Finger Switched Owners! [Quick Transmigration]](https://i2.wp.com/dobytranslations.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/12/lllllll.png?resize=151,215 "My Golden Finger Switched Owners! [Quick Transmigration]")