Sister, Please Have Some Self-Respect, I'm Your Sister-in-Law - Chapter 12

The watermelons that had received special attention from Lin Yuehe’s Golden Finger were finally ripe and ready to harvest.

Lin Yuehe, like a dragon guarding its treasure, patrolled the melon patch three times a day, tapping each one and using her agricultural expertise to determine the perfect time to pick them.

Finally, on a sunny afternoon, she selected the largest, roundest watermelon with the clearest stripes, which she had secretly named “Qingshuang Special No. 1.”

She carefully snipped the vine with scissors and cradled the heavy melon in her arms.

The cool, smooth rind felt weighty and solid, filling her heart with anticipation.

“Sister Qingshuang will be so happy when she sees this!” she thought, her steps light as she hurried toward Song Qingshuang’s courtyard. Her mind was already replaying the image of Song Qingshuang’s satisfied smile as she tasted the watermelon.

But as she reached the courtyard gate, she overheard Song Qingshuang speaking with her personal maid, Qiuyun.

“…The Zhang family has sent another invitation, saying it’s for their matriarch’s birthday and insisting that Miss attend,” Qiuyun said, her voice cautious.

Lin Yuehe froze in her tracks.

The Zhang family?

The Zhang family with the scholar son?

A moment of silence hung in the air before Song Qingshuang’s cool voice, devoid of emotion, finally spoke:

“Send our regrets. Tell them I’m unwell and unable to attend.”

“But Miss…” Qiuyun hesitated. “Madam seems to want you to get out more…”

“I know my limits,” Song Qingshuang replied, her tone calm yet firm, tinged with weariness.

Outside the door, Lin Yuehe’s arms tightened slightly around the watermelon.

She knew Song Qingshuang harbored a deep aversion to marriage due to past traumas.

Yet the covetous gazes from outsiders and the family’s subtle pressure still clung to her like invisible chains.

A mix of heartache and inexplicable bitterness welled up in Lin Yuehe’s heart.

She took a deep breath, composed her expression, and forced a bright smile before calling out, “Eldest Sister! Are you there?”

The conversation inside abruptly ceased.

After a moment, Song Qingshuang’s voice replied, “Come in.”

Lin Yuehe walked in, carrying a watermelon, her face bright with a smile as if she hadn’t heard anything earlier.

“Eldest Sister, look! The watermelon I grew is ripe, and I brought the first one to you! It’s guaranteed to be sweet enough to make your teeth ache!” She presented the round, jade-green watermelon to Song Qingshuang like a precious treasure.

Song Qingshuang’s gaze fell on the perfectly shaped watermelon, then lifted to Lin Yuehe’s forehead, where fine beads of sweat glistened from her run, and those eyes were brimming with anticipation. Her heart softened slightly.

This girl… she always expresses her affection so directly, so passionately.

Yet this warmth sometimes reminded her of the heavy burdens she carried, leaving her feeling out of place.

“Thank you for your hard work,” Song Qingshuang said, her voice softer than usual. She gestured for Qiuyun to take the watermelon. “It looks truly excellent.”

Lin Yuehe keenly sensed Song Qingshuang’s subdued mood. Her smile seemed strained.

The joy in her heart deflated like a punctured balloon.

Is it… because of the Zhang family’s invitation earlier? Or did I come at the wrong time?

“Eldest Sister… are you tired?” Lin Yuehe asked softly. “Why don’t you rest first? I’ll have Qiuyun put the watermelon in the icebox for you, and you can have it later.”

Song Qingshuang watched as Lin Yuehe instantly wilted, looking like a puppy who had done something wrong. The irritation she felt from external pressures was replaced by a pang of guilt.

She shouldn’t let her mood affect this child.

“It’s fine,” she said, softening her tone and even managing a faint smile. “Since you’re so eager, we can cut it open now and have a taste. Qiuyun, fetch a knife.”

“Really?” Lin Yuehe’s eyes lit up again, like two stars rekindled.

The watermelon was sliced open, revealing its vibrant red flesh studded with black seeds. A sweet, refreshing aroma filled the air.

Song Qingshuang took a bite. The flesh was crisp and juicy, its sweetness reaching straight to her heart. It was truly the sweetest watermelon she had ever tasted.

“It’s very sweet,” she said, putting down the slice and looking at Lin Yuehe, who was watching her expectantly. “The melons you grow are always the best.”

Lin Yuehe finally cheered up at the compliment, her smile bright again.

But the bitterness she’d felt from overhearing the conversation hadn’t completely faded.

Watching Song Qingshuang gracefully wipe juice from the corner of her mouth, seeing the faint sorrow in her eyes despite her smile, Lin Yuehe felt a pang of heartache she couldn’t explain.

She suddenly wanted to tell Song Qingshuang to ignore the Zhangs and Lis, to stop forcing herself.

But what right did she have to say such things? She was just her “sister-in-law.”

This secret love, while bringing endless sweetness, was now tinged with the bitter realization of real-world obstacles and a sense of helplessness.

That evening, Lin Yuehe sighed to Song Zhiyuan, who had come over for watermelon: “Ah, Sister Qingshuang seems sad again. It must be those people trying to propose!”

Song Zhiyuan chewed on his melon, mumbling through a mouthful: “Normal. With my Eldest Sister’s qualities, if it weren’t for what happened before… the matchmakers would be wearing out the doorstep.”

“Don’t worry,” Song Zhiyuan said, tossing aside the watermelon rind and wiping his mouth. “My eldest sister has high standards. She’s been hurt before, so she’s very cautious now. Those guys don’t stand a chance!”

“That’s not what I’m worried about!” Lin Yuehe jabbed irritably at the watermelon flesh in her bowl. “I just feel bad for her! It makes me upset to see her bothered by those irrelevant people!”

Song Zhiyuan set down his rind, wiped his mouth, and looked at her with rare seriousness. “Ally, I know you care about my eldest sister. But some things take time. You have to be patient, like waiting for this watermelon to ripen naturally. Forced fruit never tastes sweet.”

Lin Yuehe pouted. “I know… but it still annoys me to see other bugs eyeing her vine!”

Song Zhiyuan chuckled at her analogy. “Alright, alright, you’re the watermelon guardian. Hurry up and eat your share before I finish it all!”

Lin Yuehe quickly shielded her bowl, channeling her frustration into her appetite. She took a large, angry bite of watermelon.

It was sweet, but the bitter feeling in her heart for Song Qingshuang lingered like watermelon seeds, stuck in her throat, impossible to swallow or spit out.

The taste of this secret crush was growing more complicated by the day.

The Mid-Autumn Festival had arrived, and Song Manor was decked out in festive lanterns and decorations, radiating an atmosphere of family reunion.

The evening banquet was held in an open pavilion beside the water pavilion, where the moonlit water shimmered and the air carried the sweet fragrance of osmanthus blossoms. It was a scene of refined elegance.

But for Lin Yuehe, this family gathering felt like a hidden battlefield.

Cousin Wang, dressed in her peach-colored gown, had returned. Not only that, she was dressed to the nines, looking like a walking candy shop, clinging to Song Qingshuang’s side and calling her “Elder Sister” every other breath.

Lin Yuehe sat beside Song Zhiyuan, her hands crushing the mooncake in her lap into crumbs.

She glared at Cousin Wang’s coy and affected demeanor, then glanced at Song Qingshuang’s profile. Though her expression remained calm, she maintained basic courtesy. The little jealousy vat in Lin Yuehe’s heart overflowed.

“Ally, stay calm,” Song Zhiyuan leaned closer, hiding half his face behind his fan. He whispered, “Look at Eldest Sister’s face. She looks like she swallowed a fly. She’s clearly not interested in that ‘walking sugar plum.'”

“Does she even deserve to be near Sister Qingshuang?” Lin Yuehe hissed through gritted teeth, her gaze shooting daggers at Cousin Wang.

At that moment, a servant brought in a platter of sliced fruit, including Lin Yuehe’s carefully cultivated and chilled “Qingshuang Special” watermelon. Its crimson flesh and black seeds glowed enticingly under the candlelight.

Cousin Wang’s eyes lit up. She immediately picked up a slice, but instead of eating it herself, she turned to Song Qingshuang, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness:

“Sister Qingshuang, this watermelon looks so sweet! Why don’t you try some?”

She moved to place the slice on Song Qingshuang’s plate.

Lin Yuehe’s pupils dilated in shock. This is unbearable!

In that split second before the watermelon could land on Song Qingshuang’s plate, Lin Yuehe shot to her feet with lightning speed, her voice ringing out sharply: “Wait!”

All eyes snapped to her.

Lin Yuehe’s mind raced. She forced an utterly “sincere” smile onto her face and addressed Cousin Wang (though her words were meant for Song Qingshuang):

“Cousin, you might not know this, but this watermelon… it’s… it’s very cooling! Eldest Sister’s stomach has been a bit weak lately. The doctor specifically advised her to avoid cold foods! Right, Eldest Sister?”

She desperately shot Song Qingshuang a meaningful look.

Song Qingshuang’s hand paused mid-air, chopsticks hovering over her bowl, as she glanced up at Lin Yuehe.

The younger girl was visibly nervous, a bead of sweat glistening on the tip of her nose. Her eyes were wide and pleading, practically shouting, “Back me up! Back me up!”

Qingshuang found the excuse rather amusing—it wasn’t exactly subtle—but she couldn’t resist playing along.

Under the bewildered gazes of Cousin Wang and the rest of the table, Song Qingshuang slowly set down her chopsticks, picked up a napkin to dab at the corner of her mouth, and said in a calm yet firm tone:

“Yes, Yuehe is right. I really shouldn’t have too much cold food these days. Thank you for your concern, Cousin.”

Cousin Wang’s smile froze on her face. Her chopsticks, extended toward the dish, hung awkwardly in mid-air, unsure whether to retract or lower. Embarrassment flushed her cheeks crimson.

Lin Yuehe’s heart bloomed with delight, though her face remained composed, radiating an air of “See how thoughtful I am?” She smoothly pushed the bowl of rock sugar stewed pears, which had been kept warm in hot water, toward Song Qingshuang. Her voice was soft and sweet:

“Eldest Sister, have this. It’s warm and gentle, good for your health.”

Song Qingshuang gazed at the steaming bowl of pears, then at Lin Yuehe’s eager, praise-seeking expression. That tender place in her heart stirred once more.

She nodded slightly, picked up a spoon, and gently scooped a spoonful into her mouth. It was sweet but not cloying, warm, and perfectly balanced.

“Very delicious,” she murmured, her gaze sweeping across Lin Yuehe’s instantly brightening smile. The corners of her own lips curved almost imperceptibly.

Song Zhiyuan, witnessing this scene, nearly spat out the wine he was drinking.

Suppressing a laugh, he whispered to Lin Yuehe, just loud enough for her to hear, “Brilliant, ally! That ‘watermelon is cooling’ excuse was genius! You’re practically my Eldest Sister’s best wingwoman!”

Lin Yuehe tossed her chin up proudly, her eyes flashing back, “Of course!”

After this incident, Cousin Wang seemed thoroughly intimidated by the “watermelon is cooling” theory. She remained much more subdued for the rest of the evening, no longer hovering around Song Qingshuang.

Lin Yuehe’s mood soared. Even the greasy mooncakes on the table now seemed almost refined.

As the banquet dispersed, the moonlight was perfect.

Lin Yuehe and Song Zhiyuan walked back side by side.

“Did you see? Did you see?” Lin Yuehe exclaimed, waving her arms excitedly. “I successfully defended Sister Qingshuang’s plate!”

Song Zhiyuan rolled his eyes.

“Yes, yes, you’re the greatest hero ever. But seriously, can’t you come up with a fresher excuse next time? ‘Watermelon is too cold’? Does my Eldest Sister look like she has a weak stomach?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Lin Yuehe said, completely unconcerned. “Sister Qingshuang went along with it, didn’t she? That proves we’re on the same wavelength!”

Song Zhiyuan sighed. “Fine, whatever makes you happy.”

He thought his ally’s rose-tinted glasses were thick enough to stop arrows.

Lin Yuehe didn’t care what Song Zhiyuan thought. She gazed up at the full moon, her heart brimming with contentment.

Even if Sister Qingshuang just thought she was being silly, as long as she could shield her from unnecessary trouble, even in the smallest way, she was satisfied.

Moonlight bathed her and the graceful figure walking ahead.

Lin Yuehe watched Song Qingshuang’s retreating form and secretly made a wish: May we both live long lives. May I always be able to stand by your side, even if it’s just as your “sister-in-law.”

Unrequited love makes you feel so small…

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