"Auntie Lin, can I come along too?"

Qin Yi finished the last strand of noodles, put down his chopsticks, and said.

Auntie Lin looked hesitant. "Don’t you have classes?"

"I’ve taken leave for both Lin Jin and myself."

She still hesitated. "My electric scooter only fits one passenger."

"Let Qin Yi squat in front, meow!"

Lin Jin excitedly raised her hand. She couldn’t wait to see him make a fool of himself.

"I have a bicycle," Qin Yi said, glancing at the Kitten Girl.

This kid got along so well with Lin Jin and was so insistent—Auntie Lin couldn’t refuse anymore.

"Alright."

"Can that old bike of yours even ride?" the Kitten Girl doubted its reliability.

"Ouch! That hurts, Mom! Why’d you hit me?"

"Eat," Auntie Lin said nonchalantly, pulling her hand back. "Kids shouldn’t interrupt adults."

"I’m not a kid," Lin Jin pouted, feeling wronged.

"Useless at everything but causing trouble—you’re still a child. Look at Yi..."

...

On the way back to town, Lin Jin sat on her mother’s scooter rear seat. She listened to the nagging while glaring fiercely at Qin Yi. He pedaled that rickety bike behind them.

It was all his fault. He acted so perfect in front of Mom—like the model "other kid."

In elementary school, she’d barely scraped a passing math grade. Qin Yi had already aced his.

In middle school, she’d struggled through PE drills for a barely-passing score. Qin Yi had breezed to a perfect mark.

For high school entrance, she’d clawed her way into the county’s top hundred. Qin Yi got personally praised by the top school’s principal.

Qin Yi was unbearable. Her hard work always got effortlessly crushed by him. He’d leap ahead by miles every time.

Mom now expected top grades as her duty. Any misstep, and she’d hear: "Look at Yi—you grew up in the same compound, same schools, same classes. Why can’t you..."

That phrase opened every scolding. The classic "other kid" routine.

Sometimes Lin Jin wondered. Their lives were nearly identical. She hit internet cafes—he did too. She gamed—he gamed. She read novels—he read them. Only summers split them, when Qin Yi visited his grandpa.

She’d even suspected he secretly trained there. That must explain his perfect scores.