“Xue’er, quit playing and come eat noodles!” Lu Ke carried two bowls from the kitchen, steam curling like morning mist, and called toward the couch.
But the Little Loli was riding a wave of glee, joy fizzing like soda, and didn’t hear a thing.
“Xue’er?” He set the dishes and chopsticks on the table, every clink like a tiny bell, yet the blonde girl stayed glued to the TV, eyes shining like twin suns.
He padded up behind the blonde girl and swept her up, light as lifting a feather. “Eek!!!” Xiao Qianxue felt herself hanging in midair, heart flittering like a sparrow, and peered down at the arms wrapped around her.
“Onii-chan, what are you doing?!”
“Nothing. A certain little glutton got so deep into her game she forgot dinner, so I had to remind her this way.” He slipped the controller onto the couch, then carried the near-weightless girl toward the table like a puff of cloud drifting home.
“Xue’er, you smell amazing.” From that soft body came a breath of jasmine, cool as moonlight spilling through bamboo.
“Onii-chan, that’s super creepy, you know.”
“Then eat properly.” His tone was steady, like a stone set in a stream.
“Hmph.” Settled into the chair like a tucked-in cat, the Little Loli picked up her chopsticks and dug into the bowl of zhajiangmian set before her, sauce gleaming like amber.
“Tastes great!” One bite and she was hooked, the rich flavor blooming like late autumn sun. Seeing his sister’s delight, Lu Ke sat down too. “Seems I went light on the doubanjiang…” he murmured, brow pinching like a folded fan, then jogged to the kitchen to sprinkle in more seasoning, a dusting of color like red leaves.
“Never thought Onii-chan could cook something this tasty,” the Little Loli said while slurping noodles, the sound like a brook over pebbles.
“Pretty sure I never claimed my cooking was bad…”
After a short while, she pushed her now-empty bowl, face radiant like a warm lamp. “I’m full!”
“Want some more?” Lu Ke looked up, meeting her golden eyes, bright as sunlit wheat.
“Nope. Eat more and I’ll get chubby!” She waved him off, hopped away like a rabbit, dropped the bowl in the kitchen, then bounced back to the couch and grabbed the controller.
“Xue’er, honestly…” Lu Ke shook his head with a helpless smile, his amusement drifting like a soft breeze—her joy was his joy.
“Ding-dong!” The doorbell chimed, sprightly as a windchime in rain.
“I’ll get it.” He stepped to the door and peered through the peephole, the hallway still as a pond. “Courier.” He opened up, took the parcel, and weighed the box like a mystery stone.
“Jeez… gave me a scare.” The blonde girl, half ready to retreat to her room, plopped back into the couch, relief like a sigh of wind.
“But this is for you~” He lifted the box and shook it, playful as a cat batting yarn.
“A new console?” Hey, hey, you’re really turning into a couch‑potato gremlin!
“Ahem…” Lu Ke swallowed the quip. “A phone! I got you a new phone.”
He cracked the package. A brand-new iPhone gleamed on the table, cold and clean as ice. “I don’t think I have much use for it… but thanks, Onii-chan!” She tilted her head, the long blonde silk of her hair slipping over her shoulder like a waterfall.
“You might. Here, I even got you a SIM card.” He held up the slim packet like a paper charm. “I’ll unbox it and set it up.”
“Okay, thanks, Onii-chan!” Her voice was sweet as marshmallow, though her hands kept Master Chief tearing an Elite apart like ripping paper.
A day slid by like a drifting cloud. Next day, the furniture store delivered pieces heavy as oxen; they assembled and set them in the room, then perched plushies on cabinets and chairs like little guardians.
“No wonder I picked them—they look great.” Lu Ke stood at the doorway, gaze sweeping like a brushstroke, and nodded in quiet satisfaction.
“It is nice… pity no one else will see it.” The blonde girl’s voice carried a small regret, her head dipping like a tulip.
“Don’t sweat the details.” His hand landed on her head, gentle as wind over wheat, stroking in slow arcs. “Cherish what we have now. That’s what matters, right?”
“Mmm… don’t… okay…” From who knows when, head‑pats had become her soft spot; the Little Loli leaned against Lu Ke, docile as a kitten being smoothed, her sweet voice breaking like sugar cubes.
“Right, Xue’er?” Emboldened, he teased her, warmth like sunlight.
“Y‑yeah…” She sounded dazed, thoughts fluttering like moths.
“That’s my good girl.” He finally lifted his hand from the gold of her hair.
“D‑darn it!!” She snapped back to herself, realization flaring like a spark.
“Onii-chan, I hate you! Awooo!” She chomped his hand, fierce as a fox kit.
“Aaaah!! I was wrong!!”
—
Time wheeled to Monday. The blonde girl surfaced from sleep, foggy as dawn mist, while something at her bedside kept chirping like a restless cricket. “Did I buy a clock?”
She let go of the big plush bear, rolled twice like a dumpling, and reached the nightstand. She rubbed her eyes, then blinked at a phone that had appeared like a secret sprout; the caller name read Onii-chan.
Half-asleep, she grabbed it and swiped to answer.
“Onii-chan… what is it…”
Lu Ke had been about to hang up after no response, thumb slipping and popping on speaker, and right then the call connected. Heat pricked like sunlight—luckily, few classmates were nearby; the ones who heard shot him odd looks, arrows of curiosity.
“Oh crap…” He snapped it off speaker and trotted to an empty corner, quiet as shade.
“Xue’er, your brother’s tied up and can’t come back at noon… and—” He paused, the breath between words hanging like a string.
“Can you do me a favor?”
“Sure… tell me…”
