“Xiaotang, we need to have a serious talk.”
After shedding every bit of her “pretense,” Luo Xiaolu showered, changed into her coziest at-home set—a soft white tee and loose sweatpants—and sat at the table, eyes fixed on Luo Xiaotang.
“I still think Sister looked nicer in that artsy outfit earlier,” Xiaotang remarked, studying her up and down before nodding thoughtfully.
“Don’t dodge the topic!”
Luo Xiaolu gave Xiaotang a light tap on the head. “Your social anxiety needs addressing.”
Xiaotang tried to shrink away, but the unwavering resolve in her sister’s gaze left no escape.
Guess there’s no avoiding this.
“I don’t want to either…” Xiaotang murmured weakly, head bowed.
Luo Xiaolu looked at her little sister and sighed.
When had it all begun?
Probably the first time Luo Xiaolu met her.
Small, delicate, hiding behind a stranger, staring intently at Luo Xiaolu.
The woman looked flustered, trying to pull the girl out—but she clung tightly to her sleeve, pressing herself against her back.
Their father chuckled it off: “Kids just need time to adjust.”
He didn’t notice. But ten-year-old Luo Xiaolu saw it clearly.
That look wasn’t hostility—it was pure terror.
Luo Xiaolu found it intriguing.
She was her father’s new wife’s daughter, who’d moved in with her mother and taken the Luo surname.
With only one spare room, the girl shared Luo Xiaolu’s.
That first night, Xiaotang clutched her pillow and curled into the corner.
Luo Xiaolu invited her to bed. She buried her face in the pillow, motionless.
Luo Xiaolu was baffled. Only two years younger—eight years old! What was there to fear? She wouldn’t hurt her.
Proud by nature, Luo Xiaolu rarely softened for anyone younger. Already uneasy about this intruder, she now welcomed the silence.
Xiaotang slept in the corner all night.
Luo Xiaolu remembered: winter. No heater. Bitterly cold.
Since they were kids, shared baths were inevitable.
To save time and water, their mom arranged their first one together.
In the bathroom, Luo Xiaolu yanked her shirt over her head and stripped in one smooth motion.
Xiaotang moved slowly, carefully—as if afraid to tear the fabric.
Naked and impatient, Luo Xiaolu grabbed Xiaotang’s shirt and pulled it up…
She froze.
On the eight-year-old’s body: countless scars and bruises—faint, deep, old layered over fresh.
The newest cut still held a trace of blood.
“What happened?”
Young as she was, Luo Xiaolu had never seen anything so horrifying. She steadied her voice.
A shadow of sorrow crossed Xiaotang’s face. Silent, she turned, stood on tiptoe, and reached for the shower switch.
Normally, Luo Xiaolu would’ve walked away. Not this time. She caught Xiaotang’s wrist.
Shaken by the scars. Guilty about last night. Or maybe—just then—she truly felt like a sister.
“Explain.”
Her tone left no room for refusal.
“Dad… hit me…” Xiaotang whispered after a long pause.
*Dad?* Her biological father.
Luo Xiaolu knew only this: a gambler who lost everything. His wife left him. Married into their family.
Domestic… abuse?
The word surfaced in her mind for the first time. She’d always thought such horrors were distant.
Weren’t girls meant to be cherished? Held gently, protected like porcelain—that was family!
To think tiny Xiaotang had endured so much.
“This is too much…” Luo Xiaolu clenched her fists.
Xiaotang crumpled into sobs, memories flashing vividly.
Luo Xiaolu looked again—and her eyes softened.
She stepped close, wrapping her arms tightly around Xiaotang from behind.
Water cascaded down. Warmth flooded their skin, seeped deep into their hearts.
“Don’t be afraid. This is your home now. From today on, I am your sister.”
“I will grow stronger—strong enough that no one will ever hurt you again.”
Each word firm. Unshakable.
…
What happened after, Luo Xiaolu barely recalled.
Only that she chased strength. Fought anyone. Elementary school? Challenged middle schoolers. Middle school? Hunted high schoolers. Fighting came unnaturally easy.
One quiet afternoon, powerful enough to fell grown men, Luo Xiaolu found Xiaotang’s birth father.
He worked in an electronics factory.
Around forty—should’ve been in his prime. Face gaunt, pale. Hair thinning badly.
Once a proud man, now seated among aunties, assembling parts with quiet diligence. As if he’d changed.
Abandoned. Scorned. No wonder his life had crumbled.
Luo Xiaolu sighed. Walked in. Beat him. Clean. Fast. No one reacted.
Sprawled on the floor, the man stared blankly at the petite girl—dazed.
Young and fiery then, Luo Xiaolu announced herself.
Hearing she was Xiaotang’s sister, he scrambled up, clutching her hand.
“Please! Let me see her!!”
“All my fault!! I deserve death! Just… please…”
She jerked free, shot him a cold glance.
“She is *my* sister now. You are not worthy.”
“No ties remain between us.”
She turned. Left behind a weeping man on his knees and a crowd of wide-eyed aunties.
Revenge was had. Strength was earned. Yet years later, Xiaotang’s social anxiety remained.
Childhood shadows ran deep. Terrifyingly deep.
“No matter what—we start with stepping outside.”
Luo Xiaolu grabbed her hand.
“I won’t!” Xiaotang declared, stance unyielding.
Just then—a phone chime:
*Alipay: 10,000 yuan received.*
