Green Tea A Always Loves To Call Me Sister - Chapter 1

The flashlights reflected diamond shaped glints off Fu Ting’s earrings as she adjusted the waistline of her gown for the third time. Uneasy, she watched the host on stage, her eyes flickering with hope for the trophy. The silk fabric scraped against the not yet healed abrasion on her lower back an injury from the wire work two days earlier.

The harness had loosened then; she almost fell. The scene had frightened her so badly she broke into a cold sweat. If Lu Qian hadn’t reacted quickly to stabilize the descending rope, she might have plummeted straight down.

But remembering that everything had started because of Lu Qian, the gratitude in her eyes dimmed. Perhaps anyone would help when danger happened nothing more than human instinct.

Fu Ting truly hadn’t expected that while Lu Qian was secretly dating her, she was also entangled emotionally with the Lin family heiress. She’d thought their first caught in the act moment was purely “professional cooperation,” not “professional cooperation.”

She ignored how Lu Qian’s hand holding the povidone-iodine swab trembled more than her own injured body. Taking a deep breath, she kept her gaze on the stage.

Finally, when the spotlight centered on her, it felt like a tranquilizer had settled her heart.

“Best Actress Fu Ting!”

Amid thunderous applause, she caught a glimpse of a tall figure at the side curtain. Lu Qian wore a custom made black tailcoat tonight, the sharp waistline clean as a blade. Three silver hoops on her left ear jingled softly when she turned earrings Fu Ting herself had helped her put on during their Milan magazine shoot.

But seeing all this now felt pathetically ironic.

A faint trace of another Omega’s pheromones lingered on her, pricking Fu Ting’s nerves. The gland at the back of her neck grew warm the fatal temptation of the countless temporary marks Lu Qian had bitten there. Every step away burned. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye but quietly withdrew back.

It was time to end this.

Just as she returned to her senses, she felt her foot slip. Her pupils widened. Her body tilted forward uncontrollably.

“Watch the step.”

The fingers that steadied her wrist were calloused marks left by years of dance training. Fu Ting caught the familiar cedar scent mixed with the faint smell of medical bandage. Her gaze drifted to the gauze hidden under Lu Qian’s sleeve.
“You practiced aerial yoga again?”

Her unintentional concern made Lu Qian’s heart jolt. Lu Qian smiled faintly, a small flash of delight in her eyes.

“Mm.” When she withdrew her hand, her ring finger brushed the faint ring mark on Fu Ting’s palm. “Later, I…”

Fu Ting quickly pulled her hand back, looked toward the stage center with discomfort, avoiding the burning gaze behind her. Step by step, she headed forward. As she neared the stage, her fingers brushed the faint ring mark on her own finger walking away from the intersection point of their once-parallel lines.

She reached the center, accepted the trophy, and looked at the audience before her.
This moment she lived for herself.

Fu Ting lowered her eyes toward the microphone, then lifted her head and began speaking about her journey.

The next second, a stage light fell.

Though only fragments fell, anything falling from above could cause real harm.

Her skirt tangled her feet; pieces struck her back, and screams tore through the end of her speech. Fu Ting pushed herself up, trying to run offstage, but twisted her foot on the stairs and tumbled down.

She looked up at the distant Lu Qian. Her vision blurred. Lu Qian stumbled toward her, cradling Fu Ting’s blood stained body. Fu Ting felt all her blood freeze her body trembled uncontrollably.

“Fu Ting, don’t sleep… Fu Ting…”

She could feel the rise and fall of Lu Qian’s chest, the rough frantic breaths. Her blurry vision melted into a single tear dropping into a lake silent, clear.

The heavy sensation of sinking bones and flesh tearing apart, plunging into a boundless deep sea. Cold water devoured her warmth; only muffled water sounds remained, then the soft whisper of dandelions, holding her gently yet preventing escape.

Winter arrived in an instant. Pain pricked her skin like needles pulling at her vessels. Whether raindrops or tears, something cold landed on her fingertips. Yet warmth suddenly flared in her palm a soft flame dancing in the air like a breeze, brushing her hair, holding her in an embrace. Natural yet fragile, real yet unreal.

Fu Ting slowly opened her eyes. Her gaze flickered. The white ceiling and the pain in her arm told her she was in a hospital. Faint sobs reached her from nearby. Stiffly, she turned her head and saw Qu An gripping her hand, crying uncontrollably.

“Jie…”

Fu Ting’s voice was dry, hoarse, forced from deep in her throat. She stared blankly at Qu An, unable to fully escape the remnants of the dream.

Hearing her voice, Qu An jerked her head up. Tears rushed out again. She clutched Fu Ting’s hand tightly, her trembling voice nearly breaking:
“You finally woke up… finally…”

She pressed the call button with shaking fingers, as if terrified this was an illusion. Fu Ting opened her mouth but found no words only lifted a hand to gently touch Qu An’s cheek.

“An-jie, I’m fine now,” she whispered, weak but steady.

But Qu An broke down further. “Do you know… how scared I was…”

After calling the doctor again, Fu Ting looked at her in confusion, sitting up slightly against the bed. Seeing Qu An’s swollen red eyes, her words caught in her throat. She reached out, touching Qu An’s cheek. Qu An held her cold fingers tightly, examining the reddish joints before finally looking away. Fu Ting waited quietly for the doctor to come in.

“Retrograde amnesia,” the doctor said, turning the CT scan. “Old damage on the hippocampus likely long term high stress…”

Fu Ting didn’t hear the rest.
She felt she’d forgotten something but for the first time, she felt light. Relieved.

She picked up her phone. Her finger paused over the screen.
She’d picked it up with a purpose yet now she remembered none of it.

She searched, but couldn’t find whatever she’d been wanting.

Then almost involuntarily she opened her photo album and checked the “Recently Deleted” folder.

Twenty-three days ago, late at night.
Lu Qian curled up in a practice-room corner, wrist connected to a drip stand. The photo note read:
“Day 7 of sensitivity period. She still won’t see me.”

Fu Ting hadn’t finished looking when Qu An snatched the phone away. As she lifted her gaze, she noticed a rose tattoo on Qu An’s neck matching the indigo one Fu Ting had seen earlier on her own collarbone.

Qu An nearly lost her breath at the album contents.

“She used you for CP hype for three years, and now she’s attaching herself to the Lin heiress…” Qu An turned back to Fu Ting only to stop mid-sentence.

Fu Ting was touching the pale ring mark on her own finger. She smiled softly.
“An-jie, it’s fine. Let the past stay in the past.”

If the girl had truly loved her, she wouldn’t have left her without even an official ring. Just a faint mark. Looks like everything before had been her wishful thinking.

Letting go now maybe that was a good beginning.

Qu An had witnessed all of Lu Qian’s behavior toward Fu Ting. She had stopped her, scolded her, forcibly separated them yet Fu Ting’s hopelessly romantic heart kept throwing itself into the fire, burning away what remained of her worth.

Now hearing Fu Ting speak calmly, Qu An didn’t know whether she truly forgot or finally broke.

Seeing Qu An cry even more, Fu Ting gently comforted her.
“An-jie, I’m fine now. Don’t cry. It hurts my heart to see you cry.”

She patted Qu An’s back—only to hiss when she tugged her IV line. Qu An immediately wiped her tears, lifted Fu Ting’s hand in panic, had it checked, then tapped her forehead, still sniffling.

“It’s good you’re safe now. Don’t think about Lu Qian anymore. Let her go.”

But at the name, Fu Ting froze.
She didn’t remember anyone by that name. It felt foreign. Yet when she heard it, her heart clenched violently like a wolf clawed it open, tearing flesh, gnawing until it stopped beating. Her warmth drained.

“Lu Qian… who is she? The girl in my photo album?”

Qu An paused then burst with relief. “Good. Good you don’t remember her.”

Fu Ting didn’t know why Qu An swung between grief and joy, but judging from that reaction, she guessed the woman just now must’ve been Lu Qian. She was good looking her type but the scandals were overwhelming. She wondered just how far they had gone. Or rather how far the transaction had gone.

Lu Qian bit her lip, attempting to explain.
“Qu An-jie, I didn’t take good care of Fu Ting, but I tried my best to get here.”

The dark circles under her eyes made her exhaustion obvious. Fu Ting avoided her gaze, staring out the window.

“Too late for explanations, isn’t it?” Qu An sneered. “Your marriage with Miss Lin is coming up. Don’t drag others down with you. Wouldn’t want someone to stab people in the back again.”

“Qu An-jie, listen to me, it’s not what you think”

“Don’t call me ‘jie.’ I’m not acknowledging you as my sister’s partner.”

“My sister stayed by your side for four years, and you dismissed it like it was nothing while flirting with your little trending topic princess. There are photos! Don’t tell me you didn’t know!”

Four years…?
Four years had passed?
Wasn’t it just yesterday she finished the college entrance exam?

So she was twenty-two now?!

Fu Ting froze. Rage filled her how could she have thrown away her stage for love? She once said she would become a singer prove how good she was to her sister. Yet she ended up acting in the entertainment industry… and getting hurt all over.
So stupid. So regretful. So unwilling.

“You sure have the nerve,” Qu An continued. “You even told her you didn’t like smart people because they made you feel ‘calculated.’ Funny who was really calculating whom?”

“I never begged her to come with me in the first place. How is that my fault?”