Wagging My Tail in the Ice Queen CEO’s Embrace - Chapter 33

After lunch, Ming Ying was carried back upstairs by Fu Anyu once again.

“The injuries I’ve suffered during this period are several times more than what I endured in the past three hundred years.” Lying on the bed, Ming Ying hugged the Shiba Inu pillow and sighed, burying her face into its soft belly as she murmured, “It’s so nice to have family.”

She had been trying hard to suppress her homesickness, but whenever she was hurt or wronged, no matter how much she restrained herself, she couldn’t help but recall the days when she was protected by her family.

Fu Anyu glanced at her but said nothing, instead taking out her laptop to review meeting materials.

Ming Ying played with the Shiba Inu pillow for a while until she felt a bit better, then couldn’t resist stealing glances at Fu Anyu.

She had long been curious, where were Fu Anyu’s family members? Why did such a large house only have Fu Anyu and the people she hired living in it?

Moreover, usually only Xiao Du, who called herself an “out-of-towner,” stayed here. Unless something unexpected happened, Xiao Chen had to return home on time every day, or her family would frantically blow up her phone with worried calls.

But she had also realized early on that “family” was probably a topic that angered Fu Anyu even more than romance. Ever since she read Fu Anyu’s face that night, she had silently assumed that Fu Anyu was all alone.

Wait, then whenever she mentioned missing home or how her parents were waiting for her return, it must have made Fu Anyu feel awful, right?

At this thought, Ming Ying’s heart sank.

Why was she always so slow on the uptake?! Just because Fu Anyu didn’t say anything, did that mean she couldn’t figure it out herself?

Min Ying instinctively sat up, wanting to apologize, but then it occurred to her that offering an apology out of the blue would be rude. Besides, this topic itself would only upset Fu Anyu.

Unable to think of a good solution, she deflated and slumped back down, clutching the Shiba Inu pillow tightly.

Being an older sister was so hard, she didn’t even know how to speak without upsetting her little sister.

And regardless of whether she saw herself as an older sister, it had always been Fu Anyu taking care of her. After all, since coming to the human world, she had hardly lived a normal life, either recovering from injuries or getting hurt.

For once, Ming Ying began to doubt herself. She had been overly protected by her clan in the past, if she didn’t want to learn magic, she didn’t have to; if she didn’t want to study, she didn’t have to. Even after living for over three hundred years, with the blood of a nine-tailed great demon flowing through her veins, she couldn’t even fly through the air, let alone endure the pain of transforming into human form.

On top of that, she lacked common sense and wasn’t careful enough, often making assumptions that ended up causing Fu Anyu a lot of trouble.

Watching Fu Anyu busy at work, Ming Ying felt lost again.

Earlier, before transforming, when Fu Anyu asked what she planned to do in the next couple of days, she honestly didn’t know.

She had always seen herself as a passerby, once she could transform and regrow her nine tails, she would return to the demon world. But now, she couldn’t even achieve human form. Her daily life was essentially no different from that of a pet cat or dog raised by humans.

The biggest difference was probably that she could speak, while pets couldn’t.

Xiao Du had once jokingly called Fu Anyu her “owner,” and now Ming Ying felt that term was quite fitting.

Resting her head on the Shiba Inu’s plump belly, Ming Ying seriously pondered whether she should try to integrate into human world life.

Not as a passerby experiencing everything, but as if she were originally a resident of this world.

After all, no one could tell her now just how much more she needed to do, or how long she had to wait, before she could go home.

Just as Fu Anyu closed a document, she heard the sound of fox claws scraping against the floor, growing closer.

“What is it?” she asked, turning to Ming Ying.

“In my current state… can I use a phone?” Ming Ying mustered the courage to ask. “I also want a SIM card, to learn how to send texts, make calls, and log into QQ and Weibo.”

These were all terms she had recently learned, and she wasn’t entirely clear on their usage yet, nor was she sure if Fu Anyu understood what she meant.

A flicker of surprise passed through Fu Anyu’s eyes, but she quickly responded seriously, “Getting a SIM card and registering for QQ and Weibo now requires real-name verification. You’ll need an ID card for that.”

“An ID card is the thing you use to check into a hotel, right?” Ming Ying asked just as seriously.

“It’s your proof of identity in human society,” Fu Anyu said, ruffling her head. “In the demon realm, it might be something like a waist token or a tiger tally. Have you seen those before?”

“Ah, that kind of thing,” Ming Ying said, suddenly understanding. “I’ve seen them. Every clan has their own form of identification.”

Fu Anyu nodded and continued her explanation. “ID cards come in physical and electronic forms. Electronic IDs can store identity information on phones and tablets. Since you’re not very familiar with these devices yet, for now, just make sure to keep the physical card safe.”

She paused. “However, generally, only permanent residents get an ID card. The one I had Xiao Du arrange for you is a temporary ID. Once you leave the human realm, you can apply to have it canceled.”

Ming Ying hadn’t expected that Fu Anyu had already arranged an ID card for her and had even considered what to do after she left the human realm. She was deeply moved.

“Then, can I use the temporary ID to make calls and log into QQ?” Ming Ying asked.

“Yes,” Fu Anyu nodded. “If you need it, we can get everything done tomorrow.”

Ming Ying immediately grew excited, her anticipation bubbling over. After a while, she brought over the tablet with her mouth and pushed it toward Fu Anyu. “Can you teach me how to type? Like what you were doing earlier, tapping on the keyboard with that ‘tap-tap’ sound.”

“Phones and tablets also have keyboards for typing,” Fu Anyu said, picking up the tablet. She casually opened a document and pulled up the input method’s keyboard interface to show Ming Ying. “You can type by tapping on the screen. By default, there’s no sound, but if you like the tapping noise, you can turn it on.”

As she spoke, she adjusted the input method settings. When she tapped the keys again, Ming Ying heard the crisp, familiar “click-clack” sound.

Fu Anyu explained the input rules of the input method to her and recommended using stroke, handwriting, and voice input. For Ming Ying’s current state, stroke and handwriting input were still quite challenging, stroke input required precise tapping on the keyboard, while handwriting needed continuous contact with the screen. Voice input was the most convenient.

But Ming Ying was captivated by the novelty of the keyboard’s tapping sounds. After having Fu Anyu teach her how to switch input methods, she pushed the tablet to the side and slowly began learning how to use stroke input.

With nothing urgent to attend to for the moment, Fu Anyu set her email to the homepage and turned to watch Ming Ying tap on the tablet with one paw.

“What input method do you usually use?” After tapping on the on-screen keyboard for a while, Ming Ying looked up to glance at Fu Anyu’s laptop.

“Full Pinyin,” Fu Anyu replied. “It requires knowing the alphabet and being familiar with Pinyin rules. It’s not too difficult, but you’ll probably spend quite some time just trying to understand the Pinyin system first.”

Ming Ying was immediately baffled, feeling a bit dizzy as she mumbled, “Could you explain it to me in detail?”

This reaction was exactly what Fu Anyu had expected. She directly printed out a Pinyin tutorial, stapled it together, placed it in a hardcover folder, and handed it to Ming Ying, saying, “Try to understand it on your own first.”

Just the sight of the hardcover folder gave Ming Ying a headache. When she opened it and saw the twisted, symbol-like letters and phonetic notations, she tilted her head, once again questioning her life as a fox.

Fu Anyu also downloaded a Pinyin pronunciation app on the tablet, so that when Ming Ying got dizzy from studying the tutorial, she could look up the corresponding letters in the app, listen to their pronunciations, deepen her understanding, and reinforce her memory.

Ming Ying spent the entire afternoon studying it and began to miss the days when she was learning magic in the demon realm. At least most of the texts there were written in a language she could read and understand. While going through the Pinyin tutorial, she finally understood what it meant to feel like “reading a heavenly script.”

“Do all humans learn this?” Ming Ying asked casually.

“Actually, Pinyin is a required subject in the first and second grades of elementary school,” Fu Anyu said. “As long as someone has gone through the nine years of compulsory education, they’ll have learned it.”

By now, Ming Ying had a pretty good understanding of the various schools and systems in the human world, and she also knew the age range of humans in the first and second grades. She sincerely praised, “Then human children are really amazing.”

She thought to herself that she couldn’t possibly be worse than children, so before dinner, she had basically familiarized herself with the Pinyin tutorial. After dinner, she eagerly switched the input method to full Pinyin and slowly typed out her own name in the document.

“Fu Anyu, look! I’ve learned it!” Ming Ying exclaimed excitedly. When Fu Anyu came over to look, she typed “fuanyu” again, slowly selecting each character.

Actually, Fu Anyu had never told her, her name. Ming Ying had seen the three specific characters on TV and thought they referred to the bad woman who had captured her and brought her home. Since then, she had associated the name with that specific person.

“Have you gotten used to reading human characters now?” Fu Anyu asked.

“Yeah, reading more books helps you get used to it,” Ming Ying nodded. After selecting “Fu Anyu,” she moved the cursor between the two names and pressed the spacebar several times to separate them. “Look, I can use Pinyin too!”

“Not bad,” Fu Anyu nodded, patting the little fox’s head as a reward. Then she handed over some newly printed poems without punctuation.

Knowing that Fu Anyu had printed new exercises for her, Ming Ying felt a bit unhappy and let out a soft whimper, but she still obediently took the papers, spread them out next to the tablet, and slowly typed while reading the content.

“Why are these poems not written with any rhyme?” After typing for a while, Ming Ying was puzzled. “If this were in the demon realm, writing poetry like this would definitely get you scolded.”

“In the human world, poetry like this has only appeared in the last hundred years or so,” Fu Anyu said with a faint smile. “In the past, humans also paid attention to rhyme and rhythm when writing poetry.”

“However, this kind of poetry seems more free-flowing, as if using words to speak,” Ming Ying commented before continuing her typing practice.

For now, she could only use one paw, often accidentally hitting other keys while tapping the screen. After using the full keyboard for a while, she couldn’t resist switching to the nine-key layout. The larger keys made it much more comfortable for her to type.

Fu Anyu occasionally glanced over at her typing and noticed her claws often scratched the screen. Unable to hold back, she reached out and gently adjusted the way Ming Ying’s paw struck the screen, softly suggesting, “Try it like this.”

Ming Ying let out a short, surprised gasp, curling her paw back shyly as she explained, “I know this way is more convenient, but I’m afraid if I get used to it, once I take human form, I won’t be accustomed to using my fingers to type on a keyboard.”