An Adoptive Older Sister Cannot Become a Wife - Chapter 1

The sycamore leaves outside the window were translucent under the autumn sun. With every breath of wind, they rustled and drifted down, landing lightly on the synthetic track outside the teaching building.

In Class 3 of the second year, the Chinese literature lesson was in full swing. The form teacher, Old Chen, pushed up his black-rimmed glasses, his voice suddenly rising in pitch: “‘Cǐ yuē wú yī? Yǔ zǐ tóng páo. Wáng yú xīng shī, xiū wǒ gē máo.’ Come now, who can tell me about the bond of comradeship expressed in this line?”

The classroom fell silent. A quick glance revealed a sea of lowered heads; no one dared to meet Old Chen’s sharp gaze.

Qi Nianshu sat in the third row by the window, her elbow propped on the desk. Her gaze, however, had long since drifted past the withered succulent on the windowsill and toward the playground nearby.

It was a rare sunny day, and the PE classes outside were lively. The rhythmic thump-thump of basketballs and the laughter of teenagers drifted in through the glass, carrying a sense of vibrant energy.

Nianshu’s eyes were fixed entirely on one girl’s silhouette.

The girl wore the standard blue-and-white school uniform, her fringe slightly tousled by the wind. She stood by the horizontal bars, chatting with a few classmates. Her posture was elegant, her profile sharp and clean. Even the casual way she brushed the hair out of her eyes made a few younger students walking by steal a second look.

Nianshu’s lips curved into a faint, unconscious smile, her eyes softening with warmth.

When seats were being assigned, she had specifically asked Old Chen for the window spot. She claimed the light was better there, but in reality, it was so she could catch a glimpse of a certain someone through the glass.

Rongcheng No. 1 High School emphasized a well-rounded education. Even for the seniors facing intense academic pressure, the school maintained at least two PE sessions a week.

The class out on the field right now was Class 1 of the third year.

It was Qi Shu’s class—her older sister’s class.

Even in the middle of a bustling playground, Nianshu could find Qi Shu instantly. It was as if the girl possessed a unique gravitational pull; no matter how chaotic the scene, she always entered Nianshu’s field of vision with pinpoint accuracy.

Nianshu was so lost in thought that she didn’t hear whose name Old Chen called next, until her seatmate, Lin Xiao, gave her a gentle nudge with her elbow.

“Nianshu, the teacher is calling you.”

Nianshu snapped back to reality and scrambled to her feet, her fingers still clutching a fountain pen that hadn’t written a word.

Old Chen looked at her with a mix of helplessness and irritation as he repeated the question: “Student Qi Nianshu, I just asked: in the line ‘Yǔ zǐ tóng cháng,’ who do you think the speaker is sharing their clothes with?”

Nianshu’s mind was still filled with that figure on the playground. The name slipped out before she could think: “Qi Shu.”

The class went dead silent for a heartbeat before erupting into a roar of laughter.

Old Chen’s face darkened, his hand trembling as he held the textbook. “Qi Shu? I asked you a question about the text, why are you bringing up your sister?”

Every school has its legendary figures, and the Qi sisters were among the most prominent at Rongcheng.

Qi Shu had never dropped from the top spot in the grade rankings for three years. She was the star pupil in the eyes of the teachers and a “Study God” to her peers. Just two days ago, she had represented the school in the preliminary round of the National Mathematics Olympiad, a competition she was almost certain to win. Her looks were equally exceptional; a candid photo of her during a speech contest remained pinned to the top of the campus confession wall, with the comment count still rising a endless stream of praise and admiration.

Then there was Qi Nianshu. She was delicate and beautiful, gaining immediate attention upon enrollment simply because her name was so similar to Qi Shu’s. It was only later that students realized Qi Shu was indeed her older sister.

Having sisters in the same school wasn’t rare, but people were curious about Nianshu’s name. It sounded like a “tribute” or an accompaniment to her sister’s name.

When someone once worked up the nerve to ask her about it, Nianshu had given a vague, cryptic answer: “Because I only came to this family because of my sister.”

The statement left a lot to the imagination, but since Nianshu never elaborated, the curiosity eventually died down.

Old Chen happened to have taught both sisters in succession. Seeing Nianshu daydreaming and then giving such a nonsensical answer made him feel particularly frustrated. “Qi Nianshu, you have the nerve to mention your sister? Look at Qi Shu—top of the grade every single time. And look at you. When will you be like her and stop making me worry?”

Nianshu was already feeling guilty for spying on her sister. Hearing this, she clutched her chest and broke into a fit of coughing. Between gasps, she replied weakly, “I cough cough… I know I’m not… cough… as good as my sister… cough…”

Old Chen had dealt with her long enough to see through her theatrics. He said sternly, “Stop acting. Write an 800-word self-reflection and hand it to me tomorrow morning.”

Old Chen’s real name was Chen Shuyue. He wasn’t actually that old only twenty-nine, but he always kept a stiff face, dressed like a veteran teacher from the last century, and spoke in a dry, weary tone. Naturally, the students called him “Old Chen” behind his back.

He had been their form teacher since the second semester of the first year. Over the past six months, his disciplined approach had kept them all in line, and Nianshu was genuinely intimidated by him.

Now, she started coughing for real, her eyes turning red from the effort. “I… cough… I’m not acting.”

Nianshu had a weak immune system since childhood; she caught a cold at the slightest breeze and missed out on many school activities.

Seeing her cough so hard, Old Chen genuinely worried she might hurt herself. He waved her down. “Fine, four hundred words. Not a word less.”

Knowing she’d pushed her luck far enough, Nianshu didn’t press further. She gave a sweet smile. “Thank you, Teacher.”

Old Chen looked away, clearly deciding he’d had enough of her for one day, and moved on to another student.

The moment Nianshu sat back down, she urgently looked for Qi Shu again, only to find the area by the horizontal bars empty. Her heart sank, and her eyes scanned the playground frantically.

“Are you looking for Qi Shu?” Lin Xiao poked her arm and whispered.

Nianshu nodded instinctively, then paused. “How did you know?”

Lin Xiao smiled. “Because you’re always looking at her.”

Having been classmates for a year, Lin Xiao was well aware of Nianshu’s “sister-obsessed” nature. In fact, the whole class knew the two Qi sisters were incredibly close. Some students had even gone so far as to count how many times Nianshu mentioned her sister in a week—a project that ended when Nianshu caught them, though the count had already reached a staggering seventy-something.

Nianshu smiled sheepishly. The sunlight filtered through the window, making her delicate features look even more vivid.

Lin Xiao was momentarily dazed by her beauty, then quickly pointed toward the bleachers in the northwest corner. “Your sister is over there.”

Nianshu thanked her and held up her Chinese textbook to hide her face like a guilty child, peeking in the direction Lin Xiao had pointed.

Finally, she found Qi Shu at the top level of the bleachers. She was sitting alone in the shade of a banyan tree, leaning against the railing with her eyes slightly downcast, lost in thought.

Nianshu’s relief was short-lived. A tall boy, clutching a bottle of mineral water, approached Qi Shu with a bright smile and began talking to her.

Qi Shu looked up and appeared to decline, but the boy didn’t leave. He stood there persistently, refusing to take the hint.

Nianshu’s smile vanished instantly. The boy’s silhouette stood in front of Qi Shu like a jarring telephone pole, blocking most of the sunlight and cutting off Nianshu’s view. It made her feel inexplicably stifled.

Nianshu had always known her sister was popular. Even before they attended the same high school, Qi Shu had been a star. That pinned photo on the confession wall from the city-wide speech contest had once gone viral, bringing a wave of admirers.

Nianshu was usually happy that her sister was liked, Qi Shu was the best person in the world, after all; you’d have to be blind not to like her.

But seeing that boy pestering her sister on the playground made Nianshu’s fingers tighten around her pen. Her knuckles turned white, and the nib dragged across her scratchpad, leaving a mess of jagged ink marks.

It was annoying.

Nianshu couldn’t quite put her finger on why she was so irritated. She eventually told herself: Qi Shu is a senior now, it’s a crucial year. That guy is trying to distract her from her studies. He’s clearly up to no good.

The more she thought about it, the more she disliked him. She could already imagine his cheesy lines: “I see you here often,” “I’m so-and-so from the class next door,” “Can I have your contact info?”

Nianshu bit her lower lip, her gaze locked onto the boy, a trace of unrecognized hostility flickering in her eyes.

“Nianshu. Nianshu!” Lin Xiao tapped her arm.

Her train of thought was shattered. Nianshu turned to Lin Xiao, her voice tinged with lingering frustration. “What?”

Lin Xiao blinked, startled. “Oh… I just wanted to ask if you want to go get some water since class is ending?”

Realizing her tone was off, Nianshu suppressed her emotions and forced a smile. “No, thanks.” She pointed to her textbook with a pained expression. “I still have four hundred words waiting for me.”

The girl sitting in the row in front, Zhang Ruomeng, stretched and turned around. “Nianshu, you’re a legend. I can’t believe you dared to zone out in Old Chen’s class.”

Nianshu leaned despondently against Lin Xiao’s shoulder. “Don’t remind me. I’ve never written a self-reflection in my life. Mengmeng, you’re an expert at this. Teach me, please?”

Zhang Ruomeng, despite her cute name, was a constant source of high blood pressure for Old Chen. She had once single-handedly taken down three boys taller than her in a fight, making her a regular guest in the Dean’s office.

Ruomeng rubbed her arms as if she had chills. “Don’t call me that. My reflections are usually over a thousand words. Four hundred? You can just scribble anything and it’ll be enough.”

Nianshu looked heartbroken. “Mengmeng”

Lin Xiao used one finger to push Nianshu’s head away from her shoulder. “Alright, alright. I’m going to get water.”

Nianshu struck a dramatic pose, clutching her heart. “Xiao Xiao, are you abandoning me too?”

The first time Lin Xiao met Nianshu was at the school gates. Nianshu had been standing there with her backpack, looking at the class lists. Lin Xiao had thought: Which family does this little princess belong to?

On registration day, before they had uniforms, Nianshu had worn a pink dress with her slightly curly long hair flowing down. Her exquisite features fit every ideal of a princess. Then they became classmates for a year, and the “princess” filter shattered completely.

She wasn’t a princess; she was a clingy little puppy.

Carrying her broken fairy-tale dreams, Lin Xiao replied heartlessly, “Yes.”

Nianshu gasped in disbelief. “You’re heartless! You’re cold!”

Lin Xiao picked up her water bottle and walked away, casually dropping a line: “No, you’re the one being unreasonable.”

Zhang Ruomeng burst out laughing, earning a playful punch from Nianshu.

Once the noise subsided, Nianshu turned back to the window, trying to find Qi Shu again. But the playground was now crowded with students after the bell, and the specific figure she longed to see was nowhere to be found.

Where did she go? And that boy?

Anxiety flickered in Nianshu’s eyes. Did Qi Shu… did she take the water?

She shook her head vigorously to clear the ridiculous thought. Qi Shu never took things from strangers, especially not mineral water from someone clearly trying to hit on her.

The wind picked up again, rustling the sycamore leaves. One leaf swirled through the air and landed on the windowsill, coming to rest beside the withered succulent. Nianshu reached out and poked the leaf, feeling its slight chill against her fingertip.

She told herself: Qi Shu must have gone back to her classroom.

Qi Shu was so busy; her desk was always piled high with unfinished exam papers, and she always stayed an extra half-hour during evening self-study. She wouldn’t waste her time on random people.

The bell for the next class rang. The crowd on the playground dispersed like startled birds, and the noisy space became silent in an instant.

Nianshu looked down at the messy ink marks on her scratchpad. As if possessed, she moved her pen to a corner of the paper and wrote four words, stroke by stroke.

Yǔ zǐ tóng páo. With you, I share my robe.

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