After Getting Married to My Obsessive Older Sister - Chapter 56

Chapter 56

In the end, of course, she cried. Chu Yiqiao was lying on her stomach, hugging a pillow and sobbing quietly, tears falling freely. Sweet moans were occasionally mixed with cry-like gasps. Tan Ze would gently kiss the tears away, soothe her with a few words, and continue her actions without stopping, causing the tears to continue falling.

Because she had promised Tan Ze, “Sister, I promise I won’t cry,” Chu Yiqiao even stubbornly wiped away her tears with the pillow when Tan Ze looked at her, trying to pretend that nothing had happened. But her eyelashes were stuck together, and she couldn’t even open her eyes.

Tan Ze sincerely believed that this version of Chu Yiqiao was responsible for everything that had happened between them.

If Chu Yiqiao hadn’t pitifully pretended not to cry, if she hadn’t opened her mouth when Tan Ze kissed her, and if she hadn’t quietly begged, “Be gentle, okay?” when it got intense, they could have had a hot, steaming dinner.

At 7 PM, Chu Yiqiao, after her shower, was sprawled out on the living room sofa, watching TV. Her face and the tip of her nose were still red. She lay there comfortably, too lazy to even lift a finger.

Tan Ze heated up the cold dinner in the microwave and brought it over. She knew that as a young person in her early twenties, Chu Yiqiao wasn’t as fragile as she appeared. She first uncovered the rice bowl and then indifferently pushed the bowl and chopsticks into Chu Yiqiao’s hands.

Chu Yiqiao looked at the steaming rice in front of her, then at Tan Ze. She didn’t say anything, but her big eyes conveyed confusion.

“Eat it yourself,” Tan Ze’s tone was dry, her face a blank slate, as if the person who had just been hugging and kissing Chu Yiqiao was an unfamiliar relative: “Who promised they wouldn’t cry?”

The plan to act cute had failed completely. Chu Yiqiao sat up and began to eat her food bite by bite.

In three bites, half a box of rice had disappeared. Chu Yiqiao’s right cheek was puffed up, and as she chewed, she casually brought up: “By the way, Sister, have any of the other galleries replied?”

“Not yet,” Tan Ze replied immediately, looking down at the dishes in front of her: “If there’s a reply, I’ll tell you right away.”

Chu Yiqiao seemed to hesitate, but then Tan Ze unexpectedly gave her a piece of food. Chu Yiqiao ate it happily and stopped talking.

This state of mutually pretending not to know continued for some time. Another thing weighed on Tan Ze’s mind.

Chu Yiqiao still slept soundly every night. Tan Ze continued to apply the ointment to Chu Yiqiao’s arm. One bag of ointment was almost gone, and Tan Ze’s technique was getting more and more skilled.

During the day, Tan Ze would subconsciously caress the inside of Chu Yiqiao’s right arm. Her memory was always good, and she could keenly notice that the old scars were slowly fading.

Sometimes, after applying the ointment, Tan Ze wouldn’t go to sleep right away. She would sit in the dark, staring at that small patch of skin that seemed to glow white, lost in thought. She would watch and watch until her eyes felt sore.

Perhaps this posture made her arm ache, as Chu Yiqiao would always coincidentally let out a whimper just before Tan Ze had been staring for too long, vaguely interrupting Tan Ze’s chaotic thoughts and urging her to hurry up and hug her and go to sleep.

On Monday of Bei Tong’s birthday week, Chu Yiqiao passed Subject 1.

Tan Ze had received the good news on WeChat right away. Learning from her colleagues’ chat habits, she sent a “clapping hands” emoji, which, as expected, was deemed “outdated” by Chu Yiqiao, who then enthusiastically shared a bunch of little celebrity animal emojis.

Tan Ze tapped to save each one, like she was being inspected, and then sent them back one by one. Chu Yiqiao sent a voice message, a short three seconds.

She tapped to play it. It was a sweet, clear girl’s voice: “They’re so cute, Sister.”

Tan Ze listened to it twice without a sound. Just as she was about to play it a third time, the doors of the Subject 1 testing center opened. Chu Yiqiao, wearing a light, long-sleeved white shirt, came jogging over with her bag, a wide smile on her face.

As soon as she got into the car, she immediately showed Tan Ze the high score she got after taking the test twice, her chin practically pointed to the sky: “Ta-da—95 points! Isn’t that amazing?”

Tan Ze laughed and handed her a bouquet of small swallowtail flowers that she had gotten while Chu Yiqiao was taking the test: “Congratulations. A great student comes from a great teacher.”

Chu Yiqiao froze for a few seconds before breaking into a smile. She didn’t know when her sister had started making harmless little jokes in front of her. Of course, Chu Yiqiao unceremoniously took all the credit herself. Hugging the bouquet of blue and purple flowers, she took many “pure and artistic” photos.

“To the company?” Tan Ze started the car, pretending not to notice Chu Yiqiao secretly taking pictures of her with the flowers.

If Chu Yiqiao knew what was going on in Tan Ze’s mind, she would surely feel wronged. How was this a secret photo? It was done in plain sight!

However, what she was about to do was a secret…

Chu Yiqiao pretended to think for a moment and said: “No, I have to go back to school. The group exhibition is the day after tomorrow. The teacher in charge wants us to go and confirm the setup these few days.”

“Also, I have to go to the studio. I’m only halfway done with one painting.”

Tan Ze looked straight ahead, pushed her glasses up on her nose, and didn’t ask any more questions about Chu Yiqiao’s schedule: “Alright, what time should I pick you up?”

“Around 4:30,” Chu Yiqiao suddenly chuckled, a little傻: “Same as before.”

Tan Ze glanced at her, not knowing what Chu Yiqiao was thinking now.

She often felt that she and Chu Yiqiao were not the same species. They might look alike, but their hearts were from different planets.

After dropping Chu Yiqiao off at the North Gate of Jing University, Tan Ze glanced back. Chu Yiqiao was holding a sun umbrella, foolishly waving to her with a wide sweep of her arm. Her smile was so bright that Tan Ze could see it clearly from inside the car.

Tan Ze rolled down the window and waved back at Chu Yiqiao in a silly way.

She had to admit, being around an optimistic person did rub off on you.

The morning sun was shining brightly. Tan Ze looked at the distant leaves, which were golden from the sunlight, and thought proudly, Perhaps it’s time to buy some short-sleeved shirts for the fashionable Chu Yiqiao.

In fact, what Chu Yiqiao said wasn’t a complete excuse. She really did have to check on the group exhibition setup today.

Since starting university in her freshman year, Chu Yiqiao had participated in countless group exhibitions. Most were organized by the school, and a small number were events at local galleries in Yanjing.

As of today, the feedback from the five galleries she and Tan Ze submitted to last week had all come in. Three rejections and two had a clear intention to collaborate.

This result was actually quite good for a junior. However, the one gallery that Chu Yiqiao had set her sights on had rejected her. She was usually easygoing and agreeable about other things, but when it came to her profession, she had a stubbornness that was overly luxurious for most people.

If it wasn’t the one she wanted most, Chu Yiqiao would rather not have it. This wasn’t just the confidence her solid professional skills gave her; it was also something Tan Ze’s meticulous care and attention had subtly taught her over the years.

Sister is a good role model, Chu Yiqiao thought to herself.

Wan Xianyi was also there. The area where her paintings were displayed was only a few meters from Chu Yiqiao’s. Students had to wait for the teacher in charge to check everything one by one before they could leave. Waiting was boring, so Chu Yiqiao quietly walked over to Wan Xianyi and sincerely complimented her paintings.

“They’re really great,” Chu Yiqiao said, leaning in to get a closer look.

Unlike Chu Yiqiao’s surrealist themes, Wan Xianyi’s paintings always focused on everyday life, like photographs, with meticulous observation and replication.

Chu Yiqiao could understand why Professor Kong didn’t seem to have a particular liking for Wan Xianyi’s paintings.

The two of them belonged to completely different schools. Kong Caiqing was a master of Chinese Impressionist oil painting. Perhaps there weren’t so many conspiracies in real life. It was just a difference in aesthetic preferences.

Wan Xianyi, flattered, searched her brain for words to “commercially compliment” Chu Yiqiao back. Chu Yiqiao nodded as she listened, then turned to look at the description next to the painting.

“Has this one already been acquired by a gallery?” Chu Yiqiao saw the last sentence of the description and turned to Wan Xianyi in surprise: “That’s so impressive.”

“Mm,” Wan Xianyi said: “But didn’t you already sell a triptych last month? The school’s public account even split it into three separate articles.”

Chu Yiqiao tried to control the corner of her mouth from curling up. The high price it sold for was in a way thanks to Si Yueshan’s superb packaging skills. Her luck was really good.

Chu Yiqiao mentioned a few things about the recent gallery rejections to Wan Xianyi. She had originally just wanted to share and chat.

Wan Xianyi thought for a few seconds and said: “Chu Yiqiao, I remember you have a Weibo account.”

“I do,” Chu Yiqiao replied.

Ten thousand followers.

Chu Yiqiao opened her Weibo account for the same reason she opened her other platform accounts: purely for fun. She would post pictures of her meals and her paintings. For the first two years, it was just for her own amusement, and she treated her followers like her friends.

Recently, she had gotten busy with real life, and Chu Yiqiao hadn’t been as diligent with her Weibo updates. She wondered how “Little Qiao’s Mom” was doing.

“I think you should post more of your paintings,” Wan Xianyi suggested: “It seems some galleries also look at a painter’s activity in the industry. This painting of mine blew up on Douyin, which is why a gallery manager proactively contacted me.”

“It works like that?! Thank you.” Chu Yiqiao hadn’t expected to get advice. She took it to heart, and her steps felt lighter leaving the venue than when she came in.

She had lunch with two friends. Chu Yiqiao sat across from them, watching as the two of them almost put their tongues in each other’s mouths while eating. She tried hard to think, but she just couldn’t figure out why she hadn’t noticed this before.

Soon, the three-person meal ended with only one person at the table. The two people across from her had mysteriously gone to the bathroom together and then came back one after the other, trying to be discreet.

Chu Yiqiao was picking at the food in front of her, vaguely realizing that accepting the invitation to celebrate a birthday all night with a couple in the throes of new love might not have been a good idea.

She didn’t have much to do in the afternoon. Chu Yiqiao stayed in her studio, burying her head in her painting. She frequently checked her phone every ten minutes. The screen would light up and stay on the call interface.

She was waiting for a call.

A courier’s call.

When she first placed the order, Chu Yiqiao was mortified and kept going back and forth on the order page, hesitating to cancel. Fortunately, the other party was experienced. They shipped the item in a lightning-fast three minutes and had it picked up just as fast, completely extinguishing Chu Yiqiao’s hope of canceling.

Based on her calculations, it should have arrived today.

Chu Yiqiao stared at the cartoon yellow truck on her phone screen. The logistics information showed that it had arrived at the post station an hour ago. She had paid to upgrade the delivery service…

“Ring!”

The phone number, labeled “Takeout & Courier,” rang. The screen promptly switched to the call interface. Chu Yiqiao answered the phone furtively, her voice a whisper like a thief: “Mm-hmm.” “It’s me.” “I’ll be right there! Please don’t put it on the shelf!”

Ten minutes later, Chu Yiqiao didn’t even bother with an umbrella. She ran to the Jing University post station, holding an inconspicuous rectangular box, her head lowered as she walked out.

She looked left and right, found an empty corner, tore off the outermost packaging paper, and pulled out a pre-prepared black marker from her bag. Chu Yiqiao took a deep breath and scribbled over the detailed information on the courier slip until it was unrecognizable.

“Phew—phew—”

Chu Yiqiao secretly opened a small slit in the box and peeked inside.

Black leather fabric. On top was a pair of upright rabbit ears on a headband.

Next to it, was a… white…

…bunny tail! AHHHHH!

“SMACK!” Chu Yiqiao slammed the box shut, making a loud sound. Her face instantly turned red.

What should I do? Is it too late to throw it away now?

At the same time, Tan Ze was sitting in her office. Her long-dormant Q/Q email inbox popped up with a new message.

She clicked on it. A single unread email lay quietly in her inbox.

“Royal College of Art 20xx-20xx Exchange Student Program”

“Yiqiao, this is the program we talked about before. It’s for one year. You can consider it. The application form is in the attachment.”

Tan Ze closed the email.

Her computer wallpaper was the default blue Windows grid. The blue light made Tan Ze’s face look cold.

Three seconds later, Tan Ze reopened the email, checked the box next to it, and, without hesitation, chose delete.

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