She Adopted Me After My Biological Mother Passed Away - Chapter 23

“You wouldn’t mistake me for Shi Xianyu, would you?”

“That’s what you said.” Shi Shuxue sniffled and wiped away her cooling tears, feeling incredibly embarrassed. How old was she? Yet here she was crying in front of Chi Yeyu, acting as stubborn and pouty as a child.

“Right, right, I said it.” Fearing she’d catch a cold, Chi Yeyu carried her toward the house, waddling step by step like a penguin. “Hurry inside to warm up.”

Shi Shuxue confirmed in a small voice, “Just me.”

“Yes, just you,” Chi Yeyu replied.

The snow grew heavier. Neither of them had an umbrella. A layer of white had settled on the crown of Shi Shuxue’s head, and her shoulders were dusted with snowflakes. Chi Yeyu brushed the snow off her hair and placed her own beret on Shi Shuxue’s head.

Chi Yeyu had always been particular about style over practicality, but for Shi Shuxue, she only wanted her to be as comfortable as possible. Now that winter had arrived, she felt like bundling her up into a ball and carrying her everywhere.

Back in the warm interior, Li Lingling and the others were playing Uno. Yu Xiu was single-handedly playing two sets of cards against the other two. Seeing them return, Yu Xiu put down the cards and said, “You’re finally here. You two take my place. I’m going out for a smoke.”

Seeing them frozen like two snowmen, Li Lingling asked, “What were you two doing? You were out for so long.”

“Little Xue’s eyes are so red. Did she cry?” Tiangua asked.

Not knowing how ridiculous her crying face looked, Shi Shuxue denied it: “I didn’t cry. It was the wind.”

Chi Yeyu added, “Yeah, it’s snowing hard out there. Did you guys bring umbrellas? If not, you can buy mine.”

“Who uses an umbrella in the snow?” Li Lingling said, exasperated.

Chi Yeyu mocked her, “Truly no sense of romance. You don’t understand the charm of strolling under an umbrella in the snow.”

“If Yu Xiu said that, I’d accept it, but Chi Yeyu, you’re the least qualified person to say that.”

Chi Yeyu sat down with a thud, picked up the cards Yu Xiu had left behind, and handed a deck to Shi Shuxue. “What are you talking about? Let’s play. Watch us leave you with nothing on the table!”

The result was that one was distracted and the other had never played before, they were utterly defeated by the two veterans.

When it was time to leave, Chi Yeyu couldn’t drive because she had been drinking, so she called a driver. The other three weren’t finished yet and planned to take a taxi to a KTV.

“Aren’t you two coming to sing?” Yu Xiu asked.

Chi Yeyu leaned down, her arm around Shi Shuxue’s waist, and nuzzled the girl’s head. “She has class tomorrow. She can’t stay out too late.”

Shi Shuxue said, “I can go back by myself. If you want to play, go with them.”

Chi Yeyu flatly refused, “No, I want to go back with you.”

Shi Shuxue’s lips curved almost imperceptibly, a faint trace of a smile that vanished in an instant.

Back home that night, Chi Yeyu and Shi Shuxue went to their respective rooms. Chi Yeyu’s bedroom was diagonally across from Shi Shuxue’s she passed it every time she went to her own room.

Chi Yeyu instructed, “Take a hot bath, drink something warm, and close the curtains tonight so you don’t catch a cold.”

Shi Shuxue seemed to take it to heart, nodding solemnly. But once she closed her bedroom door, she flopped onto the bed.

She didn’t rush to bathe but lay there scrolling through her phone. Just as Yu Xiu had predicted, the tide of online opinion was quietly turning.

The hashtag #StarDragonEntertainmentConsumingTheDeceased hit the trending charts. Clicking in, it was full of “hard evidence” compiled by netizens: right after Shi Xianyu passed away, Star Dragon had secretly modified a demo of her work for commercial use. The comment section was flooded with condemnation.

Shortly after, the hashtag #AZyuanShiXianyuExHusband also began to climb. Photos taken by private detectives were being widely circulated. Just a few days ago, he was seen embracing people at a high-end club, only to turn around and release press statements about “mourning Shi Xianyu” to sell a “devoted husband” persona. Someone even dug up how he had tried to steal Shi Xianyu’s resources years ago, and screenshots of his private social media posts were leaked.

An anonymous account posted a video. In the footage, Zhao Qingyuan sat in the corner of a cafe opposite an executive from Star Dragon. His voice was clearly recorded: “The hype around Shi Xianyu can last another half-month. If that girl is willing to cooperate with interviews, the traffic will at least double.”

The comment section exploded: “So he didn’t want to acknowledge his daughter, he wanted to use her as a traffic tool,” “He acted miserable saying he ‘missed his late wife’ while calculating against her daughter behind her back. Absolutely disgusting.”

Star Dragon’s stock price plummeted, and their official account turned off comments after being bombarded with insults. Zhao Qingyuan’s business partnerships were terminated overnight, and his past scandals abroad were thoroughly exposed.

While scrolling, Shi Shuxue’s finger stopped on a video. It was a clip of Chi Yeyu’s performance when she first took over the “Screaming Goldfish” band. Chi Yeyu sat behind the drums, her hair wasn’t the current blue but shone like fire red under the lights.

A comment with tens of thousands of likes said: “They’ve always stuck to their own music and haven’t been swallowed by commercialization. If Chi Yeyu really wanted to ‘suck the blood’ of Shi Xianyu, why would she wait several years?” This resonated with many band fans.

The public sentiment had completely shifted in Chi Yeyu’s favor. Someone even found a video of her participating in a piano competition in elementary school. A little girl in a white dress sat at the piano, her fingers dancing elegantly across the keys. Upon winning the gold prize, she had shyly said, “I want to play for my mom.” Although this image differed greatly from her current stage persona, fans were captivated by her versatile talent.

Shi Shuxue stared at the piano video, dragging the progress bar to watch it twice. An eight or nine-year-old Chi Yeyu was actually a gentle, polite, and reserved little girl. Honestly, the gap between that girl and the wild, drum-smashing Chi Yeyu of today was too large.

Truth be told, if people had to choose between Chi Yeyu’s past image as an “ape” or the “girl in the white dress,” many would bridge the species gap and choose the ape.

By now, Chi Yeyu’s family background could no longer be hidden and became a topic of discussion. Though the Chi family was low-profile, they were well-known locally. As an only child, Chi Yeyu had been raised with the highest standards, she didn’t need the traffic. Her taking over Shi Xianyu’s band was purely non-commercial.

[Since she’s an only child, will her family let her keep playing like this?]

[Don’t leave! Chi-god! I don’t care about her background, just keep drumming!]

[Sisters, we want to stay together as a band for a lifetime!]

[How many more years can Screaming Goldfish survive?]

[With Chi Yeyu there, you’re worried about that?]

[It’s not a matter of money, it’s about how long her passion will last.]

[Who hasn’t had a rebellious phase? I bet this is just a rich kid’s hobby. When she hits a certain age, she’ll naturally go back to inherit the family business.]

[Then what happens to Screaming Goldfish? Who will take over if she leaves?]

[Two possibilities: One, the band disbands. Two, Yu Xiu finds someone new. She’s currently the one who cares most about the band besides Chi Yeyu.]

[But with her personality, can she really keep it together?]

[Wait, are you all ignoring someone?]

[! I know, you mean…]

[Yes, that one, the one who showed her face in the livestream, Shi Xianyu’s daughter.]

[It’s totally possible! Was the reveal meant for this?]

[No, no, no, it looked like an accident, right?]

[The person above, are you sure Chi Yeyu didn’t intend that?] …

Netizens analyzed hundreds of layers deep in a thread, and eventually, the focus shifted to Shi Shuxue, discussing the possibility of her joining the band.

Coincidentally, Chi Yeyu had been brought into the band by Shi Xianyu at roughly the same age Shi Shuxue was now. If Shi Shuxue learned from Chi Yeyu and joined, wouldn’t that be a perfect “passing of the torch”?

However, Shi Shuxue herself didn’t think she would join. She had been taking sporadic lessons from Chi Yeyu. Initially, Chi Yeyu believed she had musical talent surpassing her own, but now she had lowered the bar to “it’s great as long as you can make a sound.”

At her current pace, she might not be ready to perform even in ten years.

But it didn’t matter. Shi Shuxue wasn’t worried. Chi Yeyu wouldn’t give up on the band, and she certainly wasn’t forcing her to join.

She followed Chi Yeyu’s Weibo account, set it to “Special Follow,” and slowly scrolled through the homepage, liking every single post.

Compared to the band’s account, which was full of personality and managed by Tiangua, Chi Yeyu’s personal account didn’t have much. Most were work-related, like a group aerial photo from the H University Music Festival she attended.

The only exception was on Shi Shuxue’s birthday, when Chi Yeyu posted an ambiguous cat-head sticker, and the comment section followed suit with various stickers.

On a sudden whim, Shi Shuxue climbed off the bed and walked barefoot across the carpet to look for something in the corner.

A pile of gift boxes from her birthday was there, all sent by Chi Yeyu. She hadn’t been in a rush to open them. Except for the necklace she opened that day, the others remained untouched, piled up like a small mountain.

She counted them one by one. One, two, three… four, five, six… there were fifteen. Including the one from that day, there were exactly sixteen, matching her age.

Shi Shuxue picked up a pair of scissors from the desk and squatted on the floor to open the gifts one by one. There were practical items like a backpack, shoes, and a laptop, as well as leisure items like a Switch and various skincare products, a comprehensive collection. Why hadn’t Chi Yeyu said anything? She hadn’t opened them for so long, and Chi Yeyu hadn’t even nudged her.

She picked up a black leather backpack and shook it, discovering a fluffy black cat keychain inside. It was about the size of a fist and clearly handmade. A card was pinned next to it, with “This is the real 16th birthday gift!!” written in black ink.

Chi Yeyu’s handwriting was elegant, as if she had practiced calligraphy, every stroke was clear. Shi Shuxue tucked the card into her notebook, put it in her desk drawer, and sat down. Under the warm white light of the desk lamp, she examined the black cat keychain.

The eyes were amber, just like Chi Yeyu’s eyes. Other than the eyes, the cat was entirely black. But since joining the band, Chi Yeyu hadn’t had black hair. In the early days, her shoulder-length hair was red, then it was gold for a while, and she’d even dyed it pink. This year she cut it short and changed it to a gradient blue-black, which fans said suited her well.

She pinched the cat’s face, hung it on one side of the backpack, and then leaned against the table to admire it. Chi Yeyu was quite skilled, the cat was actually very well-shaped.

Pursuing her lips, she got up to take a shower.

Before sleeping, Shi Shuxue posted a message on Weibo that she knew would make her feel mortified in the daylight, the kind of post that, if discovered, would become a lifelong “cringe” memory: My roses withered in the snow, my cat is still fishing for shadows.

In the deep night, with heavy snow outside and a melancholy, lyrical instrumental track playing in her headphones, she felt the caption was quite good. She turned off her phone and fell asleep.

The next morning, Shi Shuxue pulled back the curtains and saw three snowmen downstairs. They were lying crooked on the ground and seemed to move.

One of them flipped over in the snow. Recognizing the face, she quickly pushed open the window and shouted down, “Sister Yu Xiu, what happened to you?”

Her voice drifted down. Yu Xiu shakily sat up, squinted at the person above, and replied, “Xiao Xue, I’m fine.”

Before she could finish, she was buried by a large clump of snow falling from a tree.

“Li Lingling, Tiangua, you two!” Yu Xiu dug herself out, struggling to wipe the melted snow from her eyes, her hands purple with cold. “Are you two looking for trouble?”

“You deserve it!” Li Lingling said fiercely, scooping snow into her clothes and throwing it at Yu Xiu’s face.

“Cough, cough, stop it. Tiangua, good Tiangua, save me, I’m dying.” Yu Xiu collapsed in the snow, coughing from the snow she’d inhaled.

“Oh, what are you three doing so early in the morning?” Chi Yeyu appeared, draped in a thick coat. She looked around, wrapped her coat tighter, took a sharp breath, and said, “It’s so cold. The snow last night was no joke.”

“Calling Shi Shuxue down to play in the snow, which means throwing snowballs at Yu Xiu,” Li Lingling said.

Yu Xiu looked half-dead.

Chi Yeyu looked at her, saw she wasn’t actually dead, and asked the other two, “What did Yu Xiu do to offend you both?”

“Don’t talk about it out here. Let me get inside and warm up first,” Yu Xiu urged with a weak voice.

Chi Yeyu shrugged nonchalantly. “Fine, permission granted.”

The three snowmen followed Chi Yeyu inside. Shi Shuxue had already come down from the second floor with her bag. She was in her school uniform, sitting at the dining table eating breakfast.

“There’s no breakfast for you guys. You can each have a cup of Banlangen (herbal tea),” Chi Yeyu said mercifully.

“Who wants it? We just finished late night snacks,” Yu Xiu said, wrapped in a blanket.

They had stayed at the KTV all night, ordered a bunch of random snacks before dawn, and then suddenly decided to have a snowball fight in front of Chi Yeyu’s house.

They had raced to see who could run the 3 kilometers from the bus stop first. Li Lingling wasn’t tall, but she ran as if she had springs in her feet, jumping and skipping past the others. Tiangua took a different approach and grabbed a shared bike, arriving second.

Yu Xiu lost the race and was forced to accept a “Truth or Dare” challenge to confess to the last person in her contacts. While swearing at the cliche, she nonchalantly scrolled to the last page, only to find the number belonged to an ex she hadn’t gotten around to blocking.

“She still has her ex’s number, clearly she wants to get back together. I’m just playing Matchmaker,” Li Lingling said matter of factly.

This earned a massive eye-roll from Yu Xiu. “Is it possible I just forgot?”

“Anyway, she cheated and wouldn’t do it. Gua and I tried to grab her phone, and in her desperation, she kissed Gua, then tried to kiss me. I couldn’t take it, so I stuffed snow down her neck,” Li Lingling recounted. “You have no idea how much psychological damage Tiangua suffered. That sudden ‘smack’ of a kiss nearly sent Tiangua flying up a tree.”

Shi Shuxue looked at Tiangua. She looked the most decent of the three, her clothes were mostly clean, though a few strands of hair were wet. She was currently blowing on her glasses to clean them, not looking particularly traumatized.