Sister, Please Have Some Self-Respect, I'm Your Sister-in-Law - Chapter 7

The summer sky is like a child’s face.

One moment, the evening glow painted the sky in vibrant hues; the next, dark clouds rolled in, and a fierce wind whipped up bean-sized raindrops that crashed down with a deafening roar, instantly engulfing the entire Song family estate.

Lin Yuehe sat by the window, mending a robe Song Zhiyuan had “accidentally” torn, the candlelight illuminating her work.

This was part of their alliance of friendship.

To Lin Yuehe, Song Zhiyuan was something of a revolutionary comrade.

Hearing the sudden downpour, she instinctively glanced toward the study.

At this hour, Song Qingshuang would usually be there, reviewing the day’s accounts.

Lin Yuehe remembered clearly that Song Qingshuang had gone to the front courtyard to handle administrative matters earlier that day, without an umbrella.

A thought struck her. Lin Yuehe immediately set down her needlework, grabbed an oiled paper umbrella from behind the door, and snatched up a soft, thin cloak. She rushed out into the rain.

The rain fell hard and fast. Despite the umbrella, icy droplets slanted against her skirt and shoes, sending shivers through her.

She curled her toes, imagining that the storm might now have trapped that figure.

Looking at the torrential downpour, Lin Yuehe mentally cursed herself:

Ugh, if I’d been this proactive in my past life, I wouldn’t have graduated college without a date!

Warm candlelight glowed from the study window.

Lin Yuehe hurried to the veranda, closed her umbrella, and smoothed her wind-tossed hair and slightly damp collar before gently knocking on the door.

“Who is it?” Song Qingshuang’s slightly wary voice called from inside, the sound of rain and wind masking the visitor’s footsteps.

“Eldest Sister, it’s me, Yuehe,” Lin Yuehe replied quickly.

A moment of silence followed before the door swung open.

Song Qingshuang stood in the doorway, candlelight casting a soft halo around her.

She gazed at the somewhat disheveled Lin Yuehe outside, whose hair tips and shoulders were damp from the rain. Lin Yuehe clutched a dripping oil-paper umbrella and a neatly folded cloak, her eyes wide with surprise.

“What are you doing here? It’s pouring,” Song Qingshuang said, stepping aside to let her in. Her brow furrowed slightly as her gaze fell on Lin Yuehe’s wet hem.

Lin Yuehe entered the warm study, bringing with her the damp chill of the rain and wind.

She leaned the umbrella against the door and held up the cloak, explaining somewhat awkwardly, “I saw the sudden downpour and thought you might not have an umbrella. It’s cold at night, and even though the walk back isn’t far, getting soaked could easily lead to a chill. So… I brought you a cloak.”

Her voice was slightly breathless from running and nervousness, her cheeks flushed by the wind and rain.

As Song Qingshuang looked at her, something seemed to gently nudge her heart.

She took the soft cloak, still warm from Lin Yuehe’s body, her fingers unconsciously tightening around it.

The cloak carried the clean scent of sun-dried fabric, with a faint, almost imperceptible hint of grass and wood, like the scent that clung to Lin Yuehe.

“…Thank you,” Song Qingshuang said, her voice a little deeper than usual. She glanced at Lin Yuehe’s damp clothes. “You… you’re wet too.”

“It’s nothing, I only ran a short way,” Lin Yuehe said, shaking her head dismissively and offering a reassuring smile. “As long as Eldest Sister is alright.”

Outside the window, the wind and rain raged, while inside, the flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows of the two women on the wall.

“This rain… it doesn’t look like it’ll stop anytime soon,” Song Qingshuang murmured, gazing at the dark curtain of rain outside.

“Mm,” Lin Yuehe nodded, then cautiously suggested, “Then… shall I stay with Eldest Sister until the rain eases up?”

Song Qingshuang turned her gaze back, her eyes lingering on Lin Yuehe’s still-damp shoulders.

After a moment of silence, she walked to the washbasin stand, soaked a clean cloth, wrung it half-dry, and handed it to Lin Yuehe. “Wipe yourself off. Don’t catch a chill.”

Lin Yuehe froze, staring at the plain white cloth and Song Qingshuang’s slender, clearly defined hand holding it.

This hand… it’s just too perfect…

Her fingers were long and slender, the tips rounded and delicate.

Ah… Lin Yuehe inwardly screamed, her face flushing slightly. Why am I focusing on this?! she cursed herself silently.

She held her breath as she carefully took the handkerchief, still carrying the faint coolness of Song Qingshuang’s fingertips. Her voice was barely a whisper. “…Thank you, Eldest Sister.”

Holding the handkerchief, she gently dabbed at the damp strands of hair framing her forehead and the droplets clinging to her neck.

The fabric seemed to carry Song Qingshuang’s crisp, cool fragrance, making her heart race erratically with each wipe.

Song Qingshuang, meanwhile, had returned to her desk and picked up her account books, but she seemed to struggle to concentrate.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Lin Yuehe sitting quietly on a low stool, drying her hair. The younger woman looked as docile as a small animal that had found shelter after being caught in the rain.

A delicate stillness filled the air, the steady drumming of the rain only accentuating the quiet within the room.

After a while, Lin Yuehe finished drying herself. She carefully folded the handkerchief and placed it aside.

Not daring to disturb Song Qingshuang, she sat quietly, her gaze drifting involuntarily toward the elder woman’s clear, focused profile illuminated by the candlelight.

Finally, the rain outside gradually subsided, softening into a lingering drizzle.

Lin Yuehe knew it was time to leave.

She stood up and said softly, “Eldest Sister, the rain’s easing up. I… I should head back now.”

Song Qingshuang looked up from her account books, her gaze lingering for a moment on Lin Yuehe’s already dry clothes before nodding. “Be careful on your way home.”

Lin Yuehe picked up her still-dripping umbrella and the damp handkerchief by the door. She hesitated, then turned back, her eyes softening. “Eldest Sister, you should rest early too.”

“Mm,” Song Qingshuang replied faintly.

She watched Lin Yuehe’s slender figure disappear into the thinning rain, her umbrella vanishing at the end of the corridor. Only then did Song Qingshuang slowly look away.

She lowered her gaze to the hand that had offered the handkerchief.

The long-forgotten feeling of being cared for seeped into her heart like the gentle rain outside, silent and persistent.

She picked up the cloak Lin Yuehe had given her, its soft fabric exquisite to the touch.

After a long silence, she finally draped it over her shoulders, carrying with it a faint, earthy fragrance.

A few days later, at the family banquet, the atmosphere appeared harmonious, yet undercurrents of tension simmered beneath the surface.

Landlord Song and his wife sat at the head of the table, Song Zhiyuan and Lin Yuehe side by side on one side, while Song Qingshuang sat alone on the other.

The table was laden with dishes, including several seasonal vegetables from Lin Yuehe’s increasingly lush garden, their vibrant colors drawing particular attention.

Old Mother Zhang served the dishes, her resentment simmering as she witnessed Lin Yuehe’s rising popularity and the Eldest Miss’s growing favor toward her.

While serving Madam Song, she feigned casualness and remarked with a smile:

“Our Young Mistress is truly capable. She grows vegetables better than seasoned farmers and even visits the Eldest Miss’s study for lessons. Her diligence makes us old folks seem useless.”

Though her words sounded like praise, they carried a barbed undertone, subtly implying that Lin Yuehe, despite her humble origins, was adept at currying favor through calculated flattery.

Lin Yuehe’s fingers tightened slightly around her chopsticks, but her gentle smile remained unwavering. She was about to respond when Song Zhiyuan cut in, raising a lazy eyebrow.

“Nanny Zhang, Yuehe is young and eager to learn. Her closeness with Eldest Sister is a good thing. Does the Song family truly begrudge a diligent daughter-in-law? Or do you believe my wife, Song Zhiyuan’s wife, isn’t even entitled to literacy or gardening?”

His tone was as nonchalant as ever, but his gaze swept sharply over Old Mother Zhang.

The old woman’s face paled. She bowed hastily. “This old servant wouldn’t dare! That’s not what I meant…”

Landlord Song frowned and snapped, “Enough! Who do you think you are, meddling in the affairs of your betters?”

Madam Song glanced coldly at Old Mother Zhang, her silence more withering than any words.

Lin Yuehe felt a warmth in her heart and gave Song Zhiyuan a grateful look.

Just then, Song Qingshuang, who had been quietly eating, set down her chopsticks, picked up a handkerchief, and gracefully wiped her lips. Her voice, clear and calm, though soft, carried through the room:

“Yuehe is remarkably quick-witted, grasping concepts instantly. Her questions are always insightful, never a waste of time. The fruits and vegetables she brings are fresh and delicious, and the sachets she makes are crafted with great care.”

As she spoke, her gaze shifted calmly to the plate of stir-fried cabbage in front of Lin Yuehe. She picked up a bite with her chopsticks, savored it thoughtfully, and nodded slightly.

“The heat is perfect, the flavor crisp and sweet. It suits my taste perfectly.”

Her tone remained even, as if stating a simple fact, neither defending nor praising. Yet in that tense moment, her words of approval carried more weight than any argument.

The room fell silent.

Landlord Song and Madam Song exchanged surprised glances at their eldest daughter, then at Lin Yuehe. They hadn’t expected their aloof, usually indifferent daughter to speak in support of the “marriage to ward off misfortune” bride.

Lin Yuehe’s heart jolted. She looked up sharply at Song Qingshuang, meeting her gaze, which remained as calm and deep as still water.

There seemed to be no extra emotion in her words, just a pure, fact-based assessment.

Yet the approval hidden beneath that calm tone made the tip of Lin Yuehe’s nose tingle slightly.

She hurriedly lowered her head, hiding the emotions churning in her eyes, and forced down the lump in her throat. “Eldest Sister, you flatter me,” she managed to say.

Song Qingshuang said no more, picking up her chopsticks again and resuming her meal with elegant composure, as if her earlier remark had been nothing more than a casual comment on the dish.

Song Zhiyuan raised an eyebrow, a playful smile curving his lips as his gaze flickered between his eldest sister and their “ally,” his expression thoughtful.

For the rest of the family banquet, no one dared utter another word of gossip about Lin Yuehe.

After the meal, Lin Yuehe followed half a step behind Song Qingshuang as they left the dining hall together.

The corridor was dimly lit, casting a soft glow on the slender, upright figure ahead.

Gathering her courage, Lin Yuehe quickened her pace to walk beside Song Qingshuang, her voice soft and filled with gratitude. “Eldest Sister, earlier… thank you.”

Song Qingshuang didn’t stop walking, her profile half-lit in the dim light. She simply replied, “Mm. Just stating the facts.”

Her response remained concise, even a little cold.

But Lin Yuehe heard a hint of protectiveness in that flat tone.

Whether it stemmed from her own feelings or not, Eldest Sister had indeed defended her at the banquet.

Lin Yuehe knew that for someone like Song Qingshuang, who was so reserved, to speak such words of affirmation in front of their parents at a family gathering was truly remarkable.

She said nothing more, simply walking silently beside Song Qingshuang, occasionally glancing up at her out of the corner of her eye.

I’ve always known Eldest Sister is beautiful, she thought, but I’ve rarely paid attention to Lin Zhiyuan. Today, while acting with Zhiyuan, I noticed they share some resemblance. Still, Eldest Sister is far more striking.

Perhaps sensing the occasional glances, Song Qingshuang, still facing forward, asked, “Do you… have something you want to say?”

Lin Yuehe quickly averted her gaze, her cheeks flushing slightly against her will. “I realized today that Zhiyuan and Eldest Sister look a bit alike,” she blurted out, “but Eldest Sister is much prettier.”

Song Qingshuang paused, then replied slowly, “People often say Zhiyuan and I resemble each other…”

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