Chapter Eight: My Little Sister Can't Possibly Be This Cute

Cheng Xiaoyu’s palm was already slick with sweat. The November sun sank swiftly, and that last shimmer of brilliance had retreated to the corner of the wall in the blink of an eye.

Cheng Xiaoyu glanced up and down at Su Yuxi, who stood tall before him. Her long, straight legs easily surpassed any requirements for the “young glamour” series. The red Scottish pleated skirt paired with a white heart-patterned sweater complemented her perfectly. Clearly, Su Yuxi had inherited Aunt Zhou’s flawless figure. When their eyes met—those cold, almond-shaped phoenix eyes—Cheng Xiaoyu felt an inexplicable timidity, an instinctive reaction typical of a shut-in.

In gaming terms, Su Yuxi was like a boss with a natural aura of intimidation. You didn’t need to approach to sense the nightmare-level difficulty—a hidden challenge, deadly yet captivating. Usually, such stages existed only to torment players, programmed by developers. In real life, it meant a girl whose beauty was so dazzling that ordinary people lacked the courage to look her in the eye, even feared being caught stealing a glance, yet couldn’t resist the urge to peek.

At only sixteen, Su Yuxi already possessed the makings of an ice queen. Cheng Xiaoyu thought his sister resembled Im Yoon-ah from another universe’s Korean girl group, but her features were more exquisite, her contours more defined, with a hint of mixed heritage, and her figure fuller—not as slender or frail as Yoon-ah, especially in terms of her chest.

“The melody is lovely, but that performance is hardly challenging. You got into the drama academy with this?” Su Yuxi questioned after a long silence. She hadn’t heard Cheng Xiaoyu play Liszt’s super technical etudes earlier, and even if she had, she would have only been mildly surprised, because at that point Cheng Xiaoyu could barely manage them, not truly perform them.

Now, although Cheng Xiaoyu’s piano skills had surpassed the highest level ten, passing level ten was only the beginning of learning the piano. There were no higher grades yet. To compare with League of Legends rankings, he was about Diamond V—impressive among ordinary players, but far from the pinnacle ranks of Diamond I, Master, or Challenger, levels one might never reach even with a lifetime of effort. Su Yuxi, on the other hand, was already established, at least Diamond II, three ranks above Cheng Xiaoyu. After all, Su Yuxi had been tutored by piano maestro Li Mu Di from childhood. Cheng Xiaoyu, meanwhile, had learned from his mother, Cheng Qiu Ci, who, though a piano major herself, was worlds apart from a master. Their starting points in piano practice were simply incomparable.

Cheng Xiaoyu felt a faint resentment at such an overbearing attitude, yet he didn’t realize that for Su Yuxi, this degree of concern was already a gesture of goodwill. Not bothering to argue, he merely replied, “It’s just the afternoon, I was playing around.”

Su Yuxi was the sort of girl who not only read widely and intelligently, but had established her own worldview and code of conduct early on. She approached music and piano with utmost sincerity and devotion, even adopting some of her teacher Li Mu Di’s meticulous rigor. Her temperament was much like her father Su Changhe’s—cold and direct in dealings; she’d block and distance herself from those she disliked, and keep a measured distance with those she cared for, believing in gentle friendships. Cheng Xiaoyu’s casual response and irreverent attitude toward the piano irritated Su Yuxi. She especially disliked idle, undisciplined playboys—like Cheng Xiaoyu, her nominal brother—which only made her feel more frustrated.

With a blank expression and icy tone, she told Cheng Xiaoyu, “If you’re only messing around, don’t ruin my piano. Even if my mother lets you, don’t step into my piano room.” With that, she paid him no further heed and left directly.

Cheng Xiaoyu was a bit stunned, managed a bitter smile, but, being nearly forty in spirit, he wouldn’t fuss with a sixteen-year-old girl. He hadn’t expected his sister to be so difficult to approach, and inwardly resolved to keep a respectful distance from this far-from-lovable sibling.

Dinner was subdued; the Su family tradition was silence at meals and bedtime. After dinner, Aunt Zhou reminded Cheng Xiaoyu to sleep early, since he’d be returning to school the next day. His grades were poor, and he’d missed over half a month of classes. With the college entrance exam looming in July, Cheng Xiaoyu faced another round of hellish senior year—standing at the first crossroads of his life.

Cheng Xiaoyu returned to his bedroom, sat at his desk, and absentmindedly pulled out textbooks from his black leather bag. He was in the humanities, with courses much like those of another era. He felt confident, having lived two lives; at the very least, all those English proficiency tests weren’t for nothing—high school English would be a breeze. The other subjects—history, geography, politics—were mostly rote memorization, and his memory was now exceptional, so he expected no trouble. Chinese would be even easier; only mathematics posed a slight challenge. But as long as he memorized key formulas, aiming for a passing score rather than perfection, he should do fine.

Arts students weren’t required to score high on academic subjects. In his previous life, he never became the champion of the exam halls, but this time, he was determined to fulfill that wish—to get into a prestigious university. He hadn’t realized that failing the college entrance exam was a hidden obsession in his heart, and now, given the chance, it was brewing into a powerful drive. He knew that even without studying much, his family background would guarantee him a place at a top university, or at worst, he could study abroad.

Yet, who among high school students hasn’t dreamed of their name on the honor roll, of attending Peking or Tsinghua University? Who among exam-takers hasn’t longed to become a champion, renowned overnight? Most of us lament our lack of effort only during exams, easily fading into the background of others’ success. But Cheng Xiaoyu, having weathered some hardships, felt differently. This time, he wanted to live with more control—at the very least, to master his own destiny, without having to bow to anyone’s whims or scrape by. At first glance, this wish seemed modest, but once you enter society, you realize how difficult it truly is.

At seven in the morning, the Filipino maid came upstairs to wake Cheng Xiaoyu. By then, he’d already washed and dressed in his uniform: a black, modernized Zhongshan suit, reminiscent of Japanese school uniforms from another timeline. Cheng Xiaoyu grabbed his bag and went downstairs, where Su Yuxi was sitting at the dining table eating steamed buns.

Aunt Wang from the kitchen greeted him warmly in gentle Shanghai-accented Mandarin, “Young master, what would you like for breakfast?”

Cheng Xiaoyu glanced at the steamed buns and replied, “I’ll have noodles.” Moments later, a bowl of enticing scallion oil noodles was placed before him. He finished the noodles in a few bites, then ate two crab roe buns, while Su Yuxi unhurriedly finished half a basket. Cheng Xiaoyu sipped soy milk, quietly admiring Su Yuxi’s dining elegance. Even in eating, she radiated a princess-like grace; simply watching her was a visual delight. Unfortunately, her personality remained far from endearing to him.

Cheng Xiaoyu attended one of Shanghai’s top high schools: Fudan High School. It was ranked among the traditional four elites—along with Shanghai High School, Gezhi Academy, and Fengxian Girls’ School. Each year, their admission rates were the highest in the city. Fudan and Shanghai High were public schools, especially hard to enter.

Gezhi Academy and Fengxian Girls’ School were elite institutions; Fengxian Girls’ was even the most renowned girls’ school in the country. Most of the nation’s socialites, actresses, and female executives had attended it, and its alumni association was famous nationwide as a feminist organization. The wife of the current president of China was the chairwoman of this alumni association. Gezhi Academy was an international high school, attended mainly by the children of the powerful and foreign diplomats; tuition was exorbitant, but the facilities and faculty were the best in Shanghai.

Originally, Cheng Xiaoyu hadn't attended Gezhi because Aunt Zhou felt his personality was a bit soft and feared he might be bullied, so she sent him to Fudan instead. Moreover, Su Yuxi was also in Fudan, in her second year, admitted tuition-free after scoring third citywide on her entrance exam. Though only a sophomore, it was rumored that she could graduate early and be guaranteed admission to Fudan University.

Su Yuxi was not only a top student but had won multiple gold medals in national piano competitions, and even gained respectable placements in international contests. She was the undisputed goddess in the eyes of Fudan High students—so much so that many Fudan University boys knew of this potential future schoolmate. Su Yuxi’s brilliance wasn’t confined to the school; she was also the exclusive model for Asia’s largest pop magazine, Ruixin, with a formidable fan base. Most of her online fans were girls, who had formed a dedicated support group. Fortunately, her modeling was unknown at school, for if her classmates found out, her already turbulent high school life would be impossible to maintain.

His proud sister sat in the back seat of the Maybach, earphones in, watching the latest episode of “The Artist.” Cheng Xiaoyu, meanwhile, stared idly out the window at a somewhat unfamiliar city.

No matter which version of himself, this city was never truly familiar. This Shanghai was not quite the same as that of another world; it was the economic center of the Eastern Hemisphere, the largest free trade port in the world, the leading financial hub, the city with the highest global consumption, ranked as the most beautiful and largest city in the world, hailed as the Eastern Pearl, the most dazzling gem in the crown.

Through the car window, Cheng Xiaoyu gazed out. Towering skyscrapers crowded out much of the sky. An intricate web of roads crisscrossed the steel jungle. Flickering traffic lights and multicolored billboards twisted like vines around this bizarre, dazzling world. Car horns and the clamor of crowds swirled like discordant electronic music beneath the heavy heavens. Occasionally, a crow would sweep across the sky like a loyal hunter, waiting for someone to lose their soul. This strange and beautiful metropolis was a giant whirlpool that drew in all the ant-like humans; only by struggling could one survive atop the bodies of others.

Once, Cheng Xiaoyu had been just another struggler in the grind of the mundane world.

Now, it seemed, he had seized fate by the throat once more.