Before leaving the sports warehouse, Lin Shu wrapped Gu Chuchu’s books in a picnic blanket—both to keep off dust and to hide them in case someone actually peeked into the attic. Those books, all bearing Gu Chuchu’s name, would’ve been far too conspicuous.

Tomorrow, with Lin Shu absent, they wouldn’t have the key to get in anyway.

After trying another new restaurant with Su Nuan—its flavors merely passable—they finished dinner. Lin Shu turned to her. “You head back to campus first. I need to buy something.”

Su Nuan rolled her eyes, silent but staring until the back of his neck prickled. Lin Shu threw his hands up. “Alright, alright. Come with me. I’m getting pastries at Nanyuan Cake Shop to take to my grandma’s tomorrow.”

“You bring gifts?”

“My mom used to handle that. After my parents divorced, my dad stopped coming with me for Lunar New Year visits. Even as a student, I couldn’t show up empty-handed. I asked my aunt what to bring—I didn’t want the usual canned peanuts or fruit. She said Grandma loves crisp sesame cakes and flaky pastries to pair with Grandpa’s homegrown tea. Perfect for guests or just daily treats.”

“I see,” Su Nuan nodded.

“Mom hasn’t come to the city since. She complains about the air. I always bring them something—country folks don’t get much variety.”

Lin Shu walked his bicycle, explaining as Su Nuan listened quietly, her bright eyes blinking up at him.

The scent of wheat and cloyingly sweet caramel milk hit them first. Nanyuan Cake Shop, a time-honored city institution with two branches, had expanded from traditional Chinese pastries to include Western cakes and breads. The compact storefront glowed under warm yellow lights, cozy enough for second-floor dining. A few girls from their school lingered inside, trays in hand, picking pastries with tongs.

Lin Shu, a regular, had the owner pack his order. He turned to Su Nuan, who was wide-eyed and scanning the displays like a curious kitten. “What do you want? My treat.”

He owed her—after all, he’d devoured countless free breakfasts from her. For dinners, they’d settled on alternating payments, no nitpicking over who paid extra. It was a compromise; Su Nuan had initially insisted on covering everything. Though she was comfortably wealthy, Lin Shu refused to be a kept boy. He needed savings to reunite with his sister. Strict AA splits meant endless tiny transfers, while separate bills didn’t scream “couple”—a risk if classmates spotted them. This middle ground worked.

“If you feed it to me, I’ll eat,” Su Nuan murmured, tracing a finger across the cake case glass.

“You’re demanding. Didn’t we just eat dinner?”

“Never underestimate a girl’s stomach.”

“I’ll have one doll cake.”

Famous for its smiling-face packaging—a childhood staple for many—it was essentially a nut-filled sandwich cookie.

“Just one?”

“I’ll have plenty of chances to eat more later.”

“Boss, one more doll cake. Separate packaging.”

Lin Shu took the bulging pastry bag in one hand and the doll cake in the other. Su Nuan stood waiting, lips slightly parted.

“Ahhh…”

He held it to her mouth. She took a small bite—*crunch*—cupping her hands beneath her chin to catch crumbs.

Munching like a hamster, she licked the stiff cream filling off her lips. After eating two-thirds, she popped the crumbs from her palm into her mouth and gave a thumbs-up. “Delicious. That stiff cream is amazing. I always love the filling in these cookies—super sweet, that old-school bakery sweetness. But it gets cloying fast.”

“Finish it. Don’t waste food.”

“Can’t. Sugar rush.” Su Nuan pinched the bridge of her nose. “You take the rest.”

*Don’t treat me like a food recycling bin.*

“Aren’t you just going to throw it away? You paid for it. The boss and everyone are watching.” She whispered in his ear. Since they’d entered, their classmates had been whispering.

Lin Shu stuffed the remaining bite into his mouth. Barely a mouthful—and yes, painfully sweet. *Tea would’ve helped.*

“Seeing how much you two love sharing,” the boss chuckled, “I’ll throw in an extra doll cake for the road.”

“Thank you! We’ll definitely be back,” Su Nuan beamed, taking the gift and nudging Lin Shu. “See? All thanks to me.”

“It’s for my loyalty as a customer. Weren’t you too full?”

“A gift from the boss can’t be refused. Besides…” She grinned. “As long as I share with you, I can eat any amount.”

“Spare me.”

Lin Shu’s first thought: *I’ll die of cavities.* But her words held a hint of something deeper—he just didn’t get time to unpack it.

“You attending evening study hall tonight?”

“Of course. Gotta finish today’s homework. Piling it all on Sunday’s session is impossible. Too heavy a load.”

“I thought you’d skip tomorrow and dive straight into weekend mode. Guess you’ve got some sense. I’ll take notes for your classes and update you on weekend assignments. But seriously—don’t cram everything into Sunday night. Your sister’s the one with exams this weekend, right? While she’s testing, you can study outside the hall. Monthly exams are right after May Day break. No time left.”

And right after exams came the dreaded Culture Festival—billed as “post-exam relaxation.” Their class hadn’t even decided on a performance. The thought gave him a headache.

“And you’ve barely studied all week. What exactly have you been doing?”

*Studying. Training. And… kissing?*

“Starting next week, you study properly. Better start this weekend.”

“Give me your sick note. I’ll keep it safe. So teachers don’t think you skipped.”

“Isn’t that the vice monitor’s job?”

“Who are you?” Su Nuan pointed at him.

“Class monitor and PE rep.”

“And me?”

“Study committee? Math rep?”

“You forgot the most important part—I’m *also* class monitor. Only together do we make a proper monitor. When you’re gone, I’m in charge. Besides, the vice monitor hates paperwork. She only cares about studying.” Su Nuan shrugged.

That night, Lin Shu did study properly—except for when Su Nuan visited during the second break to share the boss’s extra doll cake. *Brain fuel*, she’d called it. He took one big bite; half should’ve been enough for her. *Surely not another sugar headache?*

But Su Nuan glared at him with wounded eyes. *Did she think he ate too much?*

After study hall, no detours to dark sports warehouses for training. He walked Su Nuan home, then headed to his own.

His sister and Gu Chuchu were still chatting animatedly in their group chat. With Lin Shu and Su Nuan offline, Gu Chuchu finally had company instead of monologuing into the void. *Why don’t they just add each other as friends?* Lin Shu wondered, scrolling through their chatter about homework and daily trivia. Eavesdropping had its charms.

His sister called while texting Gu Chuchu, swapping stories about their days. Hers was simple: school, home, the occasional antics from their aunt. Lin Shu had more to share—but today was tame compared to recent chaos. He skipped the awkward encounter with Liang Caiyi. *No need to be labeled a pervert by my sister. Big brother image matters.*

“Mmm, keep being like this, Gege,” Lin Yiyi said. “Don’t let them run circles around you. Stay in control.”

She was pleased with his day—no surprise kisses. She didn’t know why their advances had slowed, but as a sister separated by distance, it was a relief. *One kiss a day, one hug a week… at this rate, they’d be in bed within a month. We used to share a bed as kids, but this is different.*

“Just thinking about seeing you tomorrow—I’m too excited to sleep!”

“Same. I’ve got the day off, so oversleeping’s fine. But I still need to catch the early bus. Can’t stay up too late.”

The 8 a.m. tourist bus—he knew the driver well, had his number. No need to trek to the station; he’d wait at the highway-bound stop.

“I’ll sleep until you wake me up.”

“I won’t reach you before ten. Can you really sleep that long without staying up late?”

“Kinda hard…” Lin Yiyi yawned cutely, rubbing her eyes. “I’m already sleepy. See you tomorrow, Gege. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

After hanging up, Lin Shu tossed in bed. He scrolled novels, watched videos—only growing more alert. Exhausted, he eventually drifted off without realizing how.

He woke at 7:30 a.m. His phone flashed a critical low-battery warning. Su Nuan and Gu Chuchu had already sent morning greetings.

He plugged it in, brushed his teeth, gulped down cereal and toast. The phone had charged halfway—still risky. He grabbed his bulky power bank just in case.

At the bus stop, the tourism college’s coach arrived quickly. Its side boasted a bright ad: *Beautiful Cuifeng Welcomes You!* with photos of tea fields and cherry blossom gardens.

Before, no direct buses ran from the city to his grandma’s village—only four daily from the county town. Travel required a car or taxi. Now, the local government had partnered with the bus company to boost tourism. Tickets cost six yuan. Eight buses ran daily from both city and county—one every hour, pausing at noon. The first afternoon bus left at 2 p.m.; the last at 5 p.m.

The bus was nearly empty. Seats were open. Off-season travelers were sparse, and many, like Lin Shu, waited roadside stops. The bus would pick up more passengers before hitting the highway.

“I’m on the bus.”

He texted his sister. A minute later, her reply flooded his screen:

*Gege! I woke up thinking I had class. Checked the time—panicked! Mom always wakes me. I rarely oversleep. I scrambled into my uniform before remembering I’d taken the day off. Now I can’t fall back asleep!*

*Normal. Happens to me on weekends too. Once I’m up, I just play on my phone till I’m tired again.*

*That’s why early rising ruins your whole day.*

*I won’t use my phone on the bus. I’ll text when I’m close.*

Lin Shu put on headphones. He didn’t get carsick, but phone screens on bumpy roads made him queasy.

The bus crawled through town, stopping often, red lights aplenty. Only after merging onto the highway did it smooth out. Lin Shu closed his eyes, catching up on sleep.

After the highway exit, passengers began disembarking. Bumps jolted Lin Shu awake. His phone showed a message from his sister three minutes prior:

*Where are you, Gege?*

*Ten minutes to the station.*

He rarely rode all the way to the station—usually getting off midway to head straight to Grandma’s, unless he needed to visit his mom’s shop first.

*I’m waiting at the crossroads.*

*No point saying “don’t come meet me” now.*

Lin Shu shouldered his backpack, gripping seatbacks as he made his way to the door. Outside, farmland and vegetable greenhouses slid past, framed by mist-wreathed emerald mountains in the distance.

A pretty figure in a school uniform stood waiting on the winding cement path between the fields, gradually coming into clear view. Her black hair fluttered in the breeze as she held back her hair with one hand to shield from the wind.

By the way, Cuifeng Township’s middle school had abolished uniforms for nearly a decade. They only reinstated them recently, reusing hand-me-down uniforms from the county high school after swapping the school logo.

"Driver, stop at the next intersection," Lin Shu called out ahead of time.

The bus had just braked, the door barely cracked open. Lin Shu’s body was still slightly leaning forward from inertia when he rushed out.

As soon as he stepped down, a weight pressed into his arms. He stumbled back a step to steady himself—Lin Yiyi had thrown herself into his embrace, rubbing her cheek against his chest.

The bus restarted, driving off with a trail of exhaust fumes. The stench choked Lin Shu, making him gag. He waved his hand frantically in front of his nose.

Lin Yiyi buried her face tightly in his chest, holding her breath or inhaling his scent. She got carsick easily—just the smell of exhaust gave her headaches and nausea. That’s why Lin Shu hadn’t wanted her to pick him up.

"It’s fine now. The smell’s gone," Lin Shu said, stroking his sister’s hair.

Lin Yiyi slowly lifted her head. "Brother, it’s been so long."

"A month apart, and you’ve grown again?"

"Nope. I haven’t grown taller for months. I’ve stopped developing."

Lin Yiyi puffed her cheeks, stood on tiptoe, and placed her hand atop her head to compare heights with Lin Shu. They always did this whenever they met.

Her height hadn’t changed, but other parts seemed fuller. The soft weight pressing against his chest felt heavier than before. It had been over a month since he last noticed—was it real, or just his imagination?

It was hard to picture his slender sister with such a full chest. Her loose uniform hid it well; only close contact revealed its true weight.

Lin Shu wanted to remind her they’d grown up—that siblings should keep some distance. But the words always died on his lips. Maybe he secretly enjoyed this innocent closeness.

What a lousy brother he was.

"Exercise more. Jumping might still help you grow."

"I want to, but I’m too busy. These breasts are such a hassle—they won’t shrink," Lin Yiyi said, lifting her chest with a humblebrag. "All the food I eat just goes elsewhere."

She sometimes joined Lin Shu’s morning runs but quickly tired, panting heavily after a short while.

"You can reduce breast size," Lin Shu explained. "But it’s subtle. It takes long-term effort and depends on your fat percentage. If your breast tissue is naturally large, it’s harder." As a semi-fitness expert, he knew this well.

Lin Yiyi naturally hooked her left arm through his elbow, shifting her chest’s weight onto his arm to ease her burden. She raised her right hand high. "Let’s start after the high school entrance exam. I have to slim down—military training will be torture otherwise. Brother, be my fitness coach."

"One summer might not be enough."

"A year? Two?"

"Consistency matters most. Quitting wastes effort—and it’ll rebound."

"Then forever. Live long, train long. Hehe."