Twin Flowers Bloom Brightly - Chapter 1
My sister and I are twins, identical twins.
At birth, our weight difference was only 50 grams. The nurses tied different colored bands on our ankles, otherwise even my mom couldn’t tell us apart.
My sister is named Lin Xiaoyue, and I am Lin Xiaoyang.
Our grandpa gave us our names, saying one of us was gentle like the moon and the other lively like the sun.
He didn’t realize these names would become lifelong labels for us.
When we were three and started kindergarten, our teacher asked us to draw our moms.
Xiaoyue’s drawing was placed in the most prominent spot in the classroom—a small person in a dress, with neat little flowers beside her.
My drawing was taken away by the teacher—Mom had horns on her head and was holding a spatula as a weapon.
“Xiaoyang, why is your mom like this?” The teacher knelt down and asked me.
I pointed at Xiaoyue: “Her drawing isn’t Mom either. Mom never wears dresses.”
That evening after school, my mom held Xiaoyue’s hand in her left and carried my drawing in her right, her eyebrows furrowed so tightly they could trap a mosquito.
“Look how well your sister drew,” she said, pointing at Xiaoyue. “And then look at you.”
Xiaoyue looked up and smiled, the curve of her lips identical to the little person in her drawing.
On our fifth birthday, Grandpa gave each of us a dress.
Xiaoyue immediately put hers on and spun around, the skirt flaring out like a flower.
I stuffed my dress into the deepest part of the wardrobe and continued to wear my overalls.
“Why doesn’t Xiaoyang wear a dress?” relatives asked.
My mom smiled and explained, “This child has been a tomboy since she was little.”
“Xiaoyue is so quiet and well-behaved,” relatives said, patting Xiaoyue’s head. “She’s clearly a good child.”
I scooped up cream from the cake and smeared it on my face.
“Xiaoyang!” My dad roared.
As everyone in the room looked over, Xiaoyue was elegantly wiping cream from the corner of her mouth with a tissue.
On the first day of elementary school, our homeroom teacher asked us to introduce ourselves.
Xiaoyue stood up, her voice like a kitten’s meow: “My name is Lin Xiaoyue. I like reading and drawing.”
When it was my turn, I jumped onto a chair: “I’m Lin Xiaoyang! I can climb the door frame!”
I actually climbed up and hung from the door frame, swinging.
The homeroom teacher’s face turned as black as the bottom of a pot.
When school let out, Xiaoyue’s little red flower was pinned prominently on her chest.
My pants were covered in dust, and my knee had a hole in it.
“Look at your sister,” my dad sighed. “Can’t you go one day without causing trouble?”
In the second grade midterm exam, Xiaoyue scored perfect hundreds.
I got 58 in math and 42 in Chinese, adding up to 100.
At the parent-teacher conference, my mom sat in Xiaoyue’s seat, surrounded by certificates of commendation.
My seat was occupied by my dad, who had a “poor classroom discipline” warning slip in front of him.
On the way home, my dad held Xiaoyue’s commendation in one hand and my warning slip in the other.
“Same genes, how can there be such a big difference?” he mumbled to himself.
I kicked pebbles behind them, and one of them hit Xiaoyue’s heel.
She didn’t tell on me, she just walked faster.
In the third grade, Xiaoyue became the class monitor.
I was made to stand in the corner for a week because I dug a trap on the playground.
After the principal got to know us, he always said, “Xiaoyue is a model student, as for Xiaoyang… she’s very unique.”
When teachers mentioned us, their expressions were like they had tasted two completely different candies.
Xiaoyue was like milk candy, cloyingly sweet.
I was like popping candy, making people frown but unable to resist trying.
At the fourth-grade sports meeting, Xiaoyue held the class sign and walked at the very front, her white dress fluttering in the wind.
I made faces at the back of the line, tying the braid of the girl in front of me to a chair.
After the homeroom teacher discovered me, I ran three laps around the track before I shook her off.
When Xiaoyue stood on the podium, I was behind the rostrum deflating the principal’s bicycle tires.
“Why are you always like this?” Xiaoyue asked me that night in bed.
“Like what?” I feigned ignorance.
“Just… deliberately causing trouble.”
I didn’t answer. I listened to her steady breathing and counted to one hundred before falling asleep.
In the fifth-grade spring outing, Xiaoyue was responsible for counting heads.
I secretly snuck to the convenience store and bought ten ice pops with a month’s worth of pocket money.
On the bus ride back, I poured the melted ice pop water onto the seat of a boy I disliked.
As he jumped up and yelled, Xiaoyue was helping the teacher distribute motion sickness medicine.
“Lin Xiaoyang!” The homeroom teacher’s roar made the bus windows shake.
Xiaoyue handed me a tissue: “Wipe your hands.”
I didn’t take it, rubbing my hands even dirtier on the seat.
In the sixth-grade placement exam, Xiaoyue ranked first in the entire grade.
I was third from the bottom, but I broke the school record in shot put.
“If you put half the effort you put into playing into your studies…” My mom’s sentence trailed off.
“…you’d be like your sister,” I finished the second half, mimicking her tone.
Xiaoyue practiced calligraphy in the study, sitting perfectly straight.
I threw tennis balls against the wall in the yard, leaving a row of gray marks.
At the graduation ceremony, Xiaoyue gave a speech on behalf of the entire school.
I was backstage, folding her speech into a paper airplane and flying it onto the principal’s bald head.
The principal thought Xiaoyue did it, and the disappointment in his eyes was like a bucket of cold water.
Xiaoyue blushed and gave an impromptu speech, which was even better than the prepared one.
That night, I heard Xiaoyue cry for the first time.
She buried her head under the covers, her voice muffled: “Why did you do that?”
I didn’t apologize. I just tucked a chocolate bar I had secretly hidden into her blanket.
On the first day of high school, the homeroom teacher called roll.
“Lin Xiaoyue?”
“Here.”
“Lin Xiaoyang?”
“Right here!”
The homeroom teacher pushed up her glasses: “Are you sisters?”
The whole class looked over, their gaze shifting back and forth between Xiaoyue and me.
“Xiaoyue must be the older sister, right? She looks like a good student at first glance,” the homeroom teacher said with a smile.
After class, a group of girls surrounded Xiaoyue’s desk.
I sat in the back row, folding my textbook into a small boat and putting it in a bucket of water.
When school let out, Xiaoyue’s backpack was filled with small notes.
My drawer contained half a stick of chalk and a dead cockroach.
“You’re in high school now, it’s time to be sensible,” my dad said at the dinner table.
Xiaoyue nodded, eating her rice grain by grain.
I picked out the green peppers and arranged them into a smiley face.
My mom’s chopsticks smacked my hand.
In our second year of high school, Xiaoyue received her first love letter.
I secretly read it. It was full of typos, and I folded it into a frog before putting it back in her backpack.
The next day, the boy stopped me on the playground: “Where’s your reply?”
“What reply?” I looked bewildered.
“Don’t pretend, Lin Xiaoyue,” he said, blushing.
I burst out laughing: “I’m Lin Xiaoyang!”
The boy’s expression was as if he had swallowed a fly.
After that incident, Xiaoyue and I shared our first secret.
But she didn’t know that all the love letters she received later were intercepted by me.
I corrected the typos with a red pen and then returned them anonymously.
In the first semester of our senior year, Xiaoyue ranked first in her grade.
My math still failed, but I won MVP in the basketball game.
“Can playing basketball feed you?” My dad threw my medal into a drawer.
That drawer already contained three medals, covered in dust.
Xiaoyue’s commendations were posted in the most prominent spot in the living room, a new batch every month.
At the parent-teacher conference before winter break, my mom went to Xiaoyue’s class.
My dad was in my class, with five unsigned warning slips in front of him.
“What exactly do you want?” he asked me on the way home.
“Nothing.” I kicked the snowdrift by the roadside.
Xiaoyue walked ahead of us, her back as thin as paper.
That night, I made a decision.
On the first day of school, I shaved my head bald.
When I walked into the classroom, the whole class was silent.
The homeroom teacher’s chalk fell to the floor, breaking into three pieces.
“Lin Xiaoyang! You… you…”
“What about me?” I touched my smooth head. “School rules don’t say you can’t shave your head.”
Xiaoyue looked up from her homework, her eyes wide.
After school that day, the principal personally spoke with me.
I pointed to my head: “This way, no one will confuse me with Xiaoyue anymore.”
The principal blinked behind his glasses and suddenly smiled.
“Good idea,” he said. “But don’t do it again.”
This was the first time I was remembered for a “good idea” instead of “causing trouble.”
Xiaoyue waited for me at the school gate, holding a knitted hat.
“Put it on, you’ll catch a cold,” she said.
I didn’t take it, walking home against the cold wind, my scalp numb with cold.
But my heart was warm.
I was finally not “Xiaoyue’s younger sister.”
I was Lin Xiaoyang, the one with the bald head.
Chapter 2
On the second day I walked into the classroom with my bald head, the whole school erupted.
In the hallway, some people pointed at me and whispered, some stifled laughter, and others secretly pulled out their phones to take pictures.
I walked past them without looking, but inwardly I was ecstatic—finally, no one would mistake me for Lin Xiaoyue anymore.
Homeroom teacher Old Zhang called me to his office. He pushed up his glasses, his tone complex: “Lin Xiaoyang, I know the school doesn’t have a written rule against shaving your head, but your appearance…”
“The school rules say ‘neat appearance.’ My bald head is very neat,” I said, touching my head. “No dandruff, no dyed hair. It meets the standards.”
Old Zhang choked, and finally just waved his hand: “Alright, you can go back.”
As I walked out of the office, I bumped into Li Hao from the neighboring class. He was on the school basketball team and usually acted all high and mighty, but he paused when he saw me, then grinned: “Yo, Lin Xiaoyang, that’s a fierce look you got there.”
I raised an eyebrow: “What, want to try it?”
He didn’t retort. Instead, he reached up and touched his own buzz cut: “Actually, it’s pretty cool.”
I hadn’t expected that shaving my head would actually make a troublemaker like Li Hao look at me differently.
On the way home, Xiaoyue walked beside me, hesitant to speak.
“Just say what you want to say,” I said, kicking pebbles by the roadside.
She hesitated: “Mom will go crazy.”
I shrugged: “It’s not the first time anyway.”
Sure enough, as soon as I walked through the door, my mom’s kitchen knife almost fell to the floor.
“Lin! Xiao! Yang!” Her voice went up eight octaves. “Are you crazy?!”
My dad sprang up from the sofa, staring at me like I was an alien: “You… did you lose your mind?”
Xiaoyue silently hid in her room, while I stood in the middle of the living room, letting them blast me.
“Do you know what others will think? A girl with a shaved head?” My mom’s hands trembled with anger. “Your sister has never given me a moment’s worry since she was little, but you?”
“Yeah, she never worried you, but I’ve worried you to death,” I grinned. “It balances out, it’s good.”
My dad grabbed a slipper directly, and I turned and ran, rushing into my room and locking the door.
Outside, my mom was still yelling: “Look at your sister, then look at you!”
I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, silently counting: 1, 2, 3…
At the 27th second, Xiaoyue gently knocked on the door: “Xiaoyang, dinner’s ready.”
I ignored her.
She knocked again: “Mom said she won’t scold you anymore. Eat first.”
I flipped over and sat up, opening the door. Xiaoyue stood at the doorway, holding a bowl of rice piled high with dishes.
“Did you steal it?” I asked.
She nodded: “I dished it up when they weren’t looking.”
I took the bowl and gobbled down the food. Xiaoyue sat on the edge of the bed, watching me eat, and then suddenly whispered: “Actually… it’s pretty cool.”
I almost choked: “What did you say?”
She pursed her lips, her voice even softer: “I said, the bald head is pretty cool.”
I stared at her and then suddenly laughed: “Lin Xiaoyue, you finally said something human.”
She gently kicked me, but the corner of her mouth was slightly upturned.
After the bald head incident, my standing in school subtly changed.
Before, I was “Lin Xiaoyue’s sister.” Now, I was “that bald Lin Xiaoyang.”
Even the basketball coach looked at me twice: “Your hairstyle, it reduces wind resistance when you play.”
I grinned: “Why don’t you try it too?”
He actually touched his own hair and seriously considered it for two seconds: “Nah, my wife would kill me.”
On the day of the basketball game, I came in as a substitute.
The coach hadn’t planned on letting me play, but a main player twisted his ankle. He looked around and finally pointed at me: “Lin Xiaoyang, you’re in!”
I stretched my wrists and walked onto the court.
The opponents saw me and paused, then someone laughed out loud: “A girl with a shaved head playing basketball? What a joke!”
I ignored him, took the ball, dribbled twice, then suddenly accelerated and broke through, faking him out with a change of direction, and went straight for a layup.
The whole court was silent for a second, then erupted in cheers.
Li Hao gave me a thumbs up from the sidelines: “Awesome!”
We won that game. The coach patted my shoulder and said: “You’re starting from now on.”
On the way home, Xiaoyue, for the first time ever, initiated conversation with me: “You played… really well today.”
I raised an eyebrow: “What, finally realizing your sister isn’t useless?”
She didn’t pick up on it, just softly said: “Actually… I’ve always thought you were amazing.”
I was stunned.
Xiaoyue never said things like that.
She lowered her head, her voice even softer: “I just… didn’t know how to tell you.”
I stared at her for a few seconds, then suddenly reached out and ruffled her head—though she was a little taller than me, the action still startled her.
“Lin Xiaoyue,” I grinned. “You’re occasionally pretty cute too.”
She blushed and pushed my hand away: “Stop it.”
That weekend, relatives came to our house.
As soon as my aunt walked in, she exclaimed: “Oh, Xiaoyue has grown taller again! She’s getting more and more beautiful!”
Then she saw me, her expression freezing for a second: “Xiaoyang… that hairstyle is quite unique.”
My mom let out a dry laugh beside me: “She’s… in her rebellious phase lately.”
At the dinner table, my aunt asked Xiaoyue: “I heard you’re still in the top ten of your grade this monthly exam?”
Xiaoyue nodded obediently: “Yes, ninth.”
“Oh, that’s amazing!” My aunt smiled widely, then turned to me: “What about Xiaoyang?”
I picked up a piece of spare rib, nonchalantly: “Two hundred and fifty.”
“Huh?”
“Grade ranking, two hundred and fifty.”
The dinner table instantly fell silent.
My dad’s face was as black as the bottom of a pot. My mom quickly tried to smooth things over: “Xiaoyang is good at sports, plays basketball quite well…”
My aunt gave two dry laughs: “Oh, oh, that’s good too…”
After dinner, I went straight back to my room. Xiaoyue was left to chat with the relatives.
I lay on my bed, put on my headphones, and turned the music up full blast.
After a while, the door opened, and Xiaoyue walked in, holding two pieces of chocolate.
“Auntie gave them,” she offered me one.
I took it, peeled open the wrapper, and put it in my mouth. It was cloyingly sweet.
“They left?” I asked.
Xiaoyue nodded: “Dad walked them downstairs.”
I sneered: “Finally don’t have to act like a ‘good daughter’ anymore?”
Xiaoyue didn’t speak, just sat on the edge of the bed and sighed softly.
“Xiaoyang,” she suddenly said. “Actually… I’m also very tired.”
I turned to look at her.
Her fingers were intertwined, her voice so low it was almost inaudible: “Every time they praise me, I’m scared… scared of not doing well next time, scared of disappointing them.”
I was stunned.
This was the first time I had heard Xiaoyue say something like this.
She looked up, her eyes a little red: “Sometimes, I envy you.”
“Envy me?” I scoffed. “Envy me getting yelled at every day?”
“Envy that you dare to be yourself,” she said softly.
I stared at her, and suddenly felt that I had never really understood Lin Xiaoyue.
Chapter 3
Xiaoyue said she envied me.
That sentence exploded in my mind like a bomb.
I stared at her, trying to find a trace of joking on her face, but she had her head bowed, her fingers tightly clutching the hem of her school uniform, her knuckles white.
“Are you serious?” I asked.
She didn’t answer. Instead, she suddenly stood up, walked quickly out of the room, and closed the door so softly it was almost inaudible.
I sat on the bed, the sweet taste of chocolate still lingering in my mouth, but a strange sourness welled up in my heart.
Lin Xiaoyue, the model student who had been praised for being “sensible” and “excellent” since childhood, actually said she envied me?
What a joke.
The next morning, Xiaoyue, as usual, got up at six, quietly washed up, and then sat at the dining table, silently eating breakfast.
When I emerged from my room, yawning with a new stubble on my head, she had already finished her last sip of milk and was packing her school bag.
“Forget what I said last night,” she said without looking up.
I pulled out a chair and sat down, grabbing a slice of bread and stuffing it into my mouth: “Which sentence? The one where you envied me?”
Her movements paused for a moment, then returned to normal: “Pretend I didn’t say it.”
My mom poked her head out from the kitchen: “Xiaoyue, did you take your vitamins?”
“Yes,” Xiaoyue replied obediently.
“Xiaoyang, yours?”
“Threw them away,” I bit into the bread. “They taste bad.”
My mom glared at me, then looked at Xiaoyue: “Don’t learn from your sister.”
Xiaoyue nodded, picked up her backpack: “I’m going to school now.”
After she left, my mom slammed a bottle of vitamins in front of me: “One pill every day, you must take it!”
I picked it up and looked at it. The bottle said “relieves anxiety, improves sleep.”
“Is Xiaoyue also taking this?” I asked.
“She hasn’t been sleeping well lately,” my mom sighed. “She dropped two places in the last monthly exam, and she’s under a lot of pressure.”
I squeezed the medicine bottle and suddenly remembered Xiaoyue’s reddish eyes last night.
So good students also suffer from insomnia?
In P.E. class, I played three-on-three with the basketball team.
Li Hao passed the ball to me. After catching it, I faked out the defender with a move and went straight for a layup.
“Good one!” He ran over and high-fived me. “There’s an off-campus game this weekend, wanna come?”
“Is there prize money?” I asked.
“Two hundred per person if we win.”
“Okay.”
The bell rang, and I grabbed my school uniform and walked towards the classroom. As I passed the corner of the teaching building, I suddenly heard a muffled sob.
I slowed my pace and peeked around the corner—
It was Xiaoyue.
She was crouching in the corner, her face buried in her knees, her shoulders trembling slightly, holding a crumpled test paper in her hand.
I stood frozen.
I had never seen Xiaoyue cry before.
Even when she scraped her knee as a child, she would just bite her lip, waiting silently for an adult to bandage it.
But now, she was crying like a lost child.
I hesitated, then walked over: “Hey.”
She suddenly looked up, tears still on her face. Seeing it was me, she hurriedly wiped her face with her sleeve: “What are you doing here?”
I pointed to the test paper in her hand: “Flunked it?”
She clutched the paper, her voice hoarse: “89 points.”
“You passed though.”
“It’s physics.” She bit her lip. “I’ve never gotten below 90 before.”
I squatted down, looking at her at eye level: “So?”
She was stunned: “What?”
“Will you die if you get 89 points?” I asked.
She opened her mouth, then suddenly started crying again: “You don’t understand…”
“I don’t understand,” I shrugged. “But I know that even if you get a perfect score, they’ll just say, ‘Keep it up next time.'”
She stared at me blankly.
“Lin Xiaoyue,” I grinned. “You’re living too hard.”
That evening after school, Xiaoyue didn’t go straight home.
She stood at the school gate, waiting for me.
“Let’s walk together,” she said.
I raised an eyebrow: “Aren’t you afraid of people seeing you hanging out with me?”
She didn’t answer, just gently tugged my sleeve: “I want to eat ice cream.”
I looked at her in shock: “You? Eat ice cream?”
Xiaoyue had a sensitive stomach since childhood and would get stomachaches from cold food, so her family never allowed her to eat ice cream.
She nodded, a hint of stubbornness in her eyes: “Just this once.”
We went to the convenience store next to the school. She chose a chocolate crispy cone, and I bought an old-fashioned ice pop.
She carefully took a bite, then squinted her eyes in satisfaction: “So sweet.”
I looked at her and suddenly found it amusing: “Lin Xiaoyue, your rebellious phase is ten years late.”
She gently kicked me, but the corner of her mouth was slightly upturned.
On the way home, she suddenly said: “Actually… I’ve always wanted to try being like you.”
“Like me, getting scolded?”
“Like you… not caring.”
I stopped walking and turned to look at her: “Who said I don’t care?”
She was stunned.
“I just don’t care about their opinions,” I bit off the last bit of my ice pop. “But I have things I care about.”
“Like basketball?”
“Yeah.”
She nodded thoughtfully, then suddenly asked: “Can I come watch the game this weekend?”
I looked at her in surprise: “You want to watch me play?”
“Can’t I?”
“You can.” I grinned. “Remember to bring a banner that says ‘Lin Xiaoyang is the coolest’.”
She laughed and pushed me: “Dream on.”
The weekend game was at a small gym, against the school team from No. 3 Middle School.
As I warmed up, I saw Xiaoyue quietly sneak in and sit in the last row.
She was wearing a simple white T-shirt and jeans, her hair tied in a ponytail.
She actually came.
Li Hao nudged me with his elbow: “Is that your sister?”
“Yeah.”
“She came to watch your game?” He looked incredulous. “Aren’t you two not on good terms?”
I stretched my wrists: “None of your business.”
The game began, and our team quickly fell behind by five points. The No. 3 Middle School players were tall and defended tightly. Several times I tried to break through but was blocked.
During halftime, I looked up at the stands. Xiaoyue was nervously clutching a bottle of mineral water, but her eyes were fixed on me.
“Don’t rush, play slowly,” Li Hao wiped sweat from his brow. “They don’t have our stamina.”
In the second half, we adjusted our tactics. I started to move frequently, using my speed to shake off defenders.
In the last minute, the score was tied, and the ball was passed to me.
I dribbled twice, then suddenly changed direction, faking out the defender, and pulled up for a jump shot from beyond the three-point line—
The ball went in!
The crowd roared, and Li Hao rushed over and hugged me: “Awesome!”
I broke free from him and looked up at the stands.
Xiaoyue stood up, clapping her hands above her head, a brilliant smile on her face that I had never seen before.
She even jumped twice.
After the game, Xiaoyue waited for me at the gym entrance.
“You played really well,” she said.
I wiped sweat: “It was okay.”
She handed me the bottle of mineral water: “Here.”
I took it and found the cap was already loosened.
“The way you jumped earlier,” I took a sip and couldn’t help but laugh, “you looked like an idiot.”
She blushed: “I didn’t jump!”
“You did, and you almost threw the water bottle.”
She made a motion to hit me. I dodged, and we walked home, playing and teasing each other all the way.
As we passed a bubble tea shop, she suddenly stopped: “I want to drink bubble tea.”
I raised an eyebrow: “Did you take the wrong medicine today? First ice cream, now bubble tea?”
“Just today,” she said stubbornly.
We bought bubble tea. She chose a full-sugar bubble tea with pearls, and I ordered sugar-free lemon water.
She took a sip and sighed contentedly: “Delicious.”
I looked at her and suddenly asked: “Why are you suddenly like this today?”
She chewed on her straw, silent for a while: “Because… I’m tired.”
“Tired of what?”
“Tired of being a ‘good child’,” she said softly. “Since I was little, I never dared to make mistakes, never dared to fail an exam, never dared to disappoint Mom and Dad…”
Her voice grew softer and softer: “But today, I want to try… being myself for once.”
I looked at her, then suddenly reached out and ruffled her head: “Lin Xiaoyue, welcome to the Rebellion Club.”
She laughed, her eyes sparkling.
By the time we got home, it was almost nine o’clock.
Mom and Dad were sitting in the living room, their faces grim.
“Where were you?” my dad asked coldly.
“Playing basketball,” I said.
“What about Xiaoyue?” My mom stared at her.
Xiaoyue clutched her bubble tea cup, her voice very quiet: “I went to watch Xiaoyang’s game.”
The living room was silent.
My dad suddenly stood up: “You skipped tutoring class?”
Xiaoyue lowered her head, not speaking.
“Do you know how expensive that class is?” My mom’s voice rose. “How much money did we spend to get you into a top university?”
Xiaoyue’s shoulders trembled slightly.
I stepped forward: “I dragged her there.”
“You shut up!” My dad pointed at me. “You’re bad enough yourself, now you’re corrupting your sister?”
“What do you mean ‘corrupting’?” I sneered. “She doesn’t even have the freedom to watch a game?”
“Xiaoyue!” My mom ignored me completely and stared at Xiaoyue. “You’ve disappointed me so much!”
Xiaoyue suddenly looked up, her eyes red: “What about me?”
Everyone was stunned.
“Did you ever ask if I wanted to go to that tutoring class?” Her voice trembled. “If I wanted to get into a top university?”
My dad’s face turned ashen: “What do you mean?”
“What I mean is—” Xiaoyue took a deep breath. “I’m also human, and I get tired too!”
With that, she turned and rushed into her room, slamming the door shut.
The living room was silent.
My mom opened her mouth, but in the end, said nothing.
I looked at the closed door and suddenly felt that this family might be about to change.
Chapter 4
The loud slam of the door from Xiaoyue echoed in our living room for a full ten seconds.
My dad’s teacup hovered in mid-air, my mom’s lips trembled slightly, and I stood there, with only one thought in my head—
Lin Xiaoyue had gone crazy.
The Lin Xiaoyue who had always been so careful even when closing a door since childhood, had just slammed it with all her might.
My dad finally found his voice: “She… what’s wrong with her?”
My mom didn’t answer. She just hurried to Xiaoyue’s door and gently knocked: “Xiaoyue? Open the door, let’s talk.”
There was no sound from inside.
I walked over and tried the doorknob directly—it was locked.
“Let her cool down for a bit,” I said.
My mom turned and glared at me: “This is all your fault for leading her astray!”
I shrugged, turned, and went back to my room, deliberately closing the door quietly—I didn’t want to add fuel to the fire at a time like this.
At dinner, Xiaoyue didn’t come out.
My mom made her favorite sweet and sour pork ribs and placed them on the table, untouched. My dad knocked on her door for the third time, still no response.
“Maybe… we should break the door down?” My dad asked hesitantly.
“She’s not trying to commit suicide,” I said, picking up a rib. “She just doesn’t want to talk.”
My mom’s chopsticks clattered onto the table: “What do you know! Xiaoyue has never been like this before!”
“So?” I bit into the rib. “Even robots occasionally crash.”
My dad suddenly sighed: “Could it be… we’ve put too much pressure on her?”
My mom and I both looked at him at the same time—this came from my dad’s mouth?
My mom opened her mouth, but in the end, said nothing. She just got up, dished out a bowl of rice, added a few ribs, and placed it outside Xiaoyue’s door.
“Xiaoyue, the food’s at the door. Remember to eat,” her voice softened.
Still no response.
At two in the morning, I got up to use the restroom and noticed the food outside Xiaoyue’s door was gone.
I gently knocked on her door: “Hey, still alive?”
The door opened a crack. Xiaoyue’s face looked particularly pale in the darkness.
“Come in,” she whispered.
I slipped inside and found her room lights dimmed to the lowest setting. On her desk were several crumpled and then flattened test papers, all covered in red crosses.
“Couldn’t sleep?” I asked.
She shook her head, then pulled out a sheet of pills from under her pillow—the “anxiety-relieving” vitamins.
“I took two pills, but I still can’t sleep.”
I picked up the pill sheet and suddenly noticed a small line of text: “May cause dizziness, drowsiness, and other side effects.”
“How long have you been taking this?”
“Three months,” she curled up by the bed. “Since I dropped in rank on the last monthly exam.”
I stared at her for a few seconds, then suddenly asked: “What score do you even want to get?”
She looked up, her eyes red: “It’s not about the score…”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s…” Her fingers intertwined. “I’m scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“Scared I’m not what they want me to be.”
Those words were like a knife, suddenly piercing my heart.
I never knew that Lin Xiaoyue, the one who always got first place, carried fear in her heart.
The next morning, Xiaoyue didn’t leave her room.
My mom paced anxiously outside the door: “Xiaoyue, at least eat something?”
No sound from inside.
My dad finally couldn’t take it anymore: “Should we ask for a leave of absence? How can she go to school like this?”
“What leave of absence!” My mom’s voice was sharp. “It’s senior year, not a day can be wasted!”
I stood at the door with my backpack, and suddenly said: “She had a fever last night.”
They both turned to look at me.
“Thirty-eight point five degrees,” I lied without batting an eye. “I gave her some fever reducers.”
My mom’s face changed: “Why didn’t you say so earlier!”
She immediately went to find a thermometer, while my dad ran to the kitchen to boil ginger soup.
I took the opportunity to knock on Xiaoyue’s door: “Hey, can you pretend to be sick?”
The door opened a crack. Xiaoyue’s eyes were red: “What are you doing?”
“Helping you get a leave of absence,” I whispered. “Get back in bed, pretend to be weak.”
She hesitated for a moment, but eventually went back to bed.
Five minutes later, my mom came in with the thermometer. Xiaoyue “weakly” coughed twice.
The thermometer showed thirty-seven point eight degrees—a low-grade fever, but enough for a leave of absence.
My mom touched Xiaoyue’s forehead: “Stay home and rest today. I’ll get you excused.”
Xiaoyue softly “hmm”-ed, but her eyes drifted to me, with a hint of confusion and gratitude.
I winked at her, turned, and went out for school.
In the classroom, Xiaoyue’s seat was empty, attracting a lot of discussion.
“Lin Xiaoyue actually took a leave of absence?”
“Is she sick? I’ve never seen her miss class before.”
“I heard she skipped tutoring yesterday…”
I lay on my desk, catching up on sleep, too lazy to care about the gossip.
Until my homeroom teacher Old Zhang knocked on my desk: “Lin Xiaoyang, come to the office.”
In the office, Old Zhang pushed up his glasses: “What’s wrong with your sister?”
“Fever,” I repeated the lie without changing my expression.
“Just a fever?” He stared at me. “Her homeroom teacher said she’s been very off lately, always spacing out in class, and making a lot of mistakes she shouldn’t.”
I shrugged: “It’s senior year, who isn’t tired?”
Old Zhang sighed: “Your sister has always been a key student the school is cultivating. If there’s any problem…”
“She has no problems,” I interrupted him. “She just needs rest.”
Old Zhang looked like he wanted to say more but finally waved his hand: “Go back.”
As I walked out of the office, I bumped into Li Hao.
“Heard your sister wasn’t here today?” He raised an eyebrow. “That’s rare.”
“None of your business.”
He chuckled, then suddenly lowered his voice: “Actually… my sister went through something similar too.”
“Similar to what?”
“Just…” He scratched his head. “Like a good student suddenly having a breakdown.”
I paused for a moment: “Your sister?”
“Yeah, back in her senior year, the pressure was too much, she just tore up all her review materials,” he shrugged. “Then she took a month off from school.”
“And then?”
“And then?” He chuckled. “She’s bouncing around in college now.”
I stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly asked: “How did your sister… recover?”
“My dad took her to Hainan for a week of crazy fun,” he patted my shoulder. “Sometimes, people just need to breathe.”
When I got home from school, the house was quiet.
Xiaoyue’s room door was still closed. My mom was cooking in the kitchen, and my dad was sitting on the sofa reading the newspaper—but the newspaper was upside down.
I knocked on Xiaoyue’s door: “It’s me.”
The door opened. Xiaoyue looked even more haggard than in the morning, with heavy dark circles under her eyes.
“Have you been sleeping all day?” I asked.
She shook her head: “Couldn’t sleep.”
I hesitated, then took out a box of chocolates from my backpack: “Here.”
She paused: “Where did you get these?”
“Li Hao gave them to me,” I tore open the package. “He said eating sweets can make people happy.”
Xiaoyue took the chocolate, took a small bite, and then suddenly smiled: “So sweet.”
“Of course, it’s chocolate. Is it supposed to be salty?”
She laughed, shaking her head, and took another bite. This time she seemed more accustomed to it: “Actually… it’s pretty good.”
I looked at her and suddenly said: “Li Hao’s sister took a leave of absence last year.”
Xiaoyue’s hand paused: “Why?”
“Too much pressure,” I stared at her. “Similar to you now.”
She lowered her head, her voice very soft: “I didn’t want to take a leave of absence…”
“But you need to rest.”
“How can I rest in senior year?”
“If you keep going like this,” I pointed to her dark circles, “you won’t even make it to the college entrance exam.”
She fell silent.
At dinner, Xiaoyue finally came out of her room.
Her face was pale, her hair messy, and her school uniform was wrinkled on her body. She looked like someone who was seriously ill.
My mom immediately stood up: “Why are you up? Are you feeling better?”
Xiaoyue shook her head, her voice weak: “I want to have some porridge.”
“Immediately!” My mom rushed into the kitchen. “I’ve made you yam porridge, it’s good for your stomach!”
My dad put down his newspaper, looking like he wanted to say something but held back.
The dining table was eerily quiet, with only the sound of a spoon hitting the bowl.
Suddenly, my dad spoke: “Xiaoyue.”
Xiaoyue looked up.
“You…” He hesitated. “Do you want to rest for a few days?”
My mom sharply turned her head: “What?”
“I mean,” my dad’s voice was surprisingly calm, “take a few days off and relax.”
Xiaoyue’s spoon clattered into her bowl.
My mom’s face changed: “It’s senior year, how can she take a leave of absence?”
“If she keeps going like this,” my dad pointed at Xiaoyue, “her body will collapse.”
“But—”
“No buts.” My dad suddenly became firm. “I’ll go to school tomorrow and get her a leave of absence.”
Xiaoyue’s eyes immediately reddened.
My mom opened her mouth, but in the end, said nothing. She just got up and went to the kitchen to dish out a second bowl of porridge.
That night, Xiaoyue sneaked into my room with her pillow.
“Can I sleep here?” she whispered.
I moved over: “Suit yourself.”
She crawled under the covers, carrying the faint scent of shower gel—she must have just showered.
We lay side by side, neither of us speaking.
After a long time, she suddenly spoke: “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Thank you for… helping me lie.”
I turned to look at her and found tears shimmering in the corner of her eyes.
“Lin Xiaoyue,” I sighed. “You’re such an idiot.”
She didn’t retort, just leaned closer to me, like she used to when we were little.
“Dad said he’d get me a leave of absence,” she whispered. “I didn’t expect…”
“He occasionally says something human.”
She chuckled, then fell silent again: “Actually… I’m scared.”
“Scared of what now?”
“Scared that after resting for a few days, I’ll fall even further behind.”
I rolled my eyes: “You’re already in the top ten of your grade, how much more do you want to keep up?”
“But—”
“No buts,” I interrupted her. “Li Hao’s right, sometimes people just need to breathe.”
She didn’t speak again, just softly “hmm”-ed.
After a while, her breathing became even, and she finally fell asleep.
I looked at her tired sleeping face and suddenly realized—
The perfect Lin Xiaoyue had finally shattered.
But strangely, I actually felt that she was more real this way.
Chapter 5
Xiaoyue’s change was like a stone dropped into a calm lake, creating ripples throughout our family.
She no longer woke up before dawn to study, but instead got up at 6:30 AM sharp every day, did fifteen minutes of stretching, and then ate breakfast.
She would take a twenty-minute nap after lunch, instead of forcing herself to do problems until she felt dizzy like she used to.
On weekends, she unfailingly gave herself half a day of rest—sometimes reading a book unrelated to exams, sometimes taking a walk by the river with me.
What shocked me the most was that she actually started refusing extra tutoring classes arranged by my mom.
“I think the school curriculum is enough,” she said calmly. “I want to review on my own on weekends.”
My mom’s expression was as if she had heard a doomsday prophecy: “But the intensive course for top universities—”
“I can do the intensive work myself.” Xiaoyue’s voice was soft, but exceptionally firm.
My dad looked up from behind his newspaper, thoughtfully glanced at her, and said nothing.
And I, silently gave her a thumbs-up under the table.
My life was also changing.
Since the bald head incident, my “status” at school had subtly improved.
Teachers no longer scolded me with “look at your sister,” but instead started to notice my performance on the basketball court.
“Lin Xiaoyang,” the P.E. teacher patted my shoulder. “There’s a city-level tryout next month, do you want to participate?”
I wiped my sweat: “Is there prize money?”
“The top eight will get bonus points for sports specialization.”
I raised an eyebrow: “Sure.”
When I got home, I casually mentioned it, but I didn’t expect Xiaoyue to be even more excited than me: “Really? Then you have to prepare well!”
“It’s just a game,” I shrugged.
“This is an opportunity!” Her eyes sparkled. “If you can get bonus points, your college entrance exam pressure will be much less.”
I was stunned for a moment—since childhood, no one had ever thought I needed an “opportunity.” They only cared about what awards Xiaoyue had won.
“Yeah.” I lowered my head to eat, hiding the sudden warmth in my eyes.
On the day of the game, Xiaoyue secretly snuck out of her tutoring class to cheer me on.
She wore her school uniform, standing in the last row of the audience, and actually held a small banner in her hand—it had “Go Lin Xiaoyang!” written crookedly on it, clearly drawn by herself.
I grinned at her and gave her an “OK” sign.
The game was intense, and our team and the opposing team were neck and neck in points. In the last minute, I received a pass, faked out the defender with a move, and jumped from beyond the three-point line—
The ball went in!
We won the game by two points.
My teammates rushed over and threw me into the air, the cheers deafening.
When I was put down, I saw Xiaoyue standing by the court, smiling brighter than the sun.
“Congratulations!” She handed me a bottle of water. “You were so cool just now!”
I took the water and suddenly noticed her eyes were a little red: “Why are you crying?”
“I’m not,” she wiped the corner of her eyes. “I’m just… happy for you.”
I stared at her for two seconds, then suddenly reached out and ruffled her hair: “You idiot.”
The joy of winning the game hadn’t faded yet when the college entrance exam arrived.
Xiaoyue seemed calmer than I expected.
The night before the exam, she even suggested taking a walk by the river.
“It’s the exam tomorrow, aren’t you nervous?” I asked.
“I am,” she kicked small stones by the roadside. “But I know I’ve done my best.”
Under the moonlight, her profile looked especially gentle. She was no longer the tense, “perfect student,” but just an ordinary girl about to face a turning point in her life.
“Have you decided what major you want to apply for?” I suddenly asked.
She was silent for a moment: “Literature.”
“Do Mom and Dad know?”
“Not yet,” she whispered. “But it’s my decision.”
I nodded, saying nothing more.
On the day the college entrance exam ended, Xiaoyue walked out of the exam hall, a relieved smile on her face.
“How was it?” I asked.
“Normal performance,” she took a deep breath. “Finally… it’s over.”
We walked home side by side, neither of us mentioning the exam, just enjoying the long-awaited ease.
As we passed a bubble tea shop, Xiaoyue suddenly stopped: “My treat.”
“Oh, has the sun risen in the west?”
She laughed and pushed me: “Just consider it thanks for… your company during this time.”
We bought bubble tea and slowly drank it on a bench by the roadside. Xiaoyue suddenly said: “Actually, I’ve always envied you.”
“Envy me what? Getting yelled at?”
“Envy that you dare to be yourself,” she chewed on her straw. “It took me eighteen years to learn that.”
I looked at her and suddenly felt that the girl in front of me was no longer the timid “good student” from my memory.
“It’s not too late,” I said.
She smiled, her eyes curving into crescent moons: “Yeah, it’s not too late.”
On the day the results came out, the whole family held their breath.
Xiaoyue’s hands trembled slightly as she entered her exam registration number.
After the page refreshed, her eyes widened—
632 points.
“Wow!” My mom hugged her tightly. “A top university is guaranteed!”
My dad also rarely smiled: “Good! Very good!”
I leaned in to take a look: “Not bad, Lin Xiaoyue.”
She turned to me, tears shimmering in her eyes: “Your turn.”
I entered my exam registration number. In the few seconds the page loaded, I actually felt a little nervous—
489 points.
“Plus the basketball specialization points,” I calculated. “Enough for the sports institute.”
The living room suddenly fell silent.
My mom’s smile froze on her face: “Sports institute?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “I plan to apply to the Sports Institute.”
“You—” My mom was about to speak, but Xiaoyue suddenly interrupted her: “Xiaoyang is very good at basketball. The coach said she has talent.”
My dad looked at me, then at Xiaoyue, and suddenly asked: “Have you two… decided?”
“Yes,” Xiaoyue and I said in unison.
My mom opened her mouth, but in the end, said nothing.
On the day we filled out our college applications, Xiaoyue sat in front of the computer for a long time.
“Are you sure you want to apply for Chinese Literature?” I asked.
“Yes,” she clicked submit. “I love literature.”
I looked at her calm profile and suddenly realized that Lin Xiaoyue, who had always lived up to others’ expectations, had finally found the path she wanted.
And I, too, submitted my application—
Sports Institute, Basketball Major.
The day the admission letters arrived, our house was like a festival.
Xiaoyue was admitted to the Chinese Literature department of a provincial key university, and I successfully got into the Sports Institute as I wished.
My mom was initially a bit regretful that Xiaoyue hadn’t applied for finance or medicine, but after seeing the genuine smile on her daughter’s face, she eventually just sighed: “As long as you two are happy.”
My dad even opened a bottle of wine he had saved for many years and poured each of us a small glass: “You’re grown up now, walk your own path.”
Xiaoyue and I clinked glasses, the sound of glass clinking was crisp and pleasant.
“To freedom,” I whispered.
“To ourselves,” she smiled back.
The night before we left home, Xiaoyue came into my room with her pillow.
“Can I sleep here?” she asked.
I moved over: “Suit yourself.”
She crawled under the covers. We lay side by side like we did when we were little, looking at the glowing star stickers on the ceiling—she had put them there when she was six, and now they weren’t very bright anymore.
“We’re leaving tomorrow,” she whispered.
“Yeah.”
“Will you miss home?”
“I’ll miss you,” I paused. “Not them.”
She chuckled: “Me too.”
After a moment of silence, she suddenly asked: “Do you remember when we were little? You always said you envied my good grades, and I said I envied your freedom.”
“I remember.”
“And now?”
I turned to look at her and found her eyes sparkling in the darkness: “Now, we’re both living the way we want to.”
She reached out her hand, her pinky hooking mine: “We promised, we’ll always be like this.”
“Yeah,” I tightened my grip on her finger. “We promised.”
The next day, we dragged our suitcases and stood at the door, saying goodbye to our parents.
My mom’s eyes were red as she repeatedly reminded us: “Call often, take care of yourselves, study hard…”
My dad patted my shoulder: “Play well.”
Then he turned to Xiaoyue: “Write good poetry.”
Xiaoyue paused, then laughed through her tears: “Okay!”
We walked side by side towards the station, the sunlight falling on our shoulders, warm and bright.
“Lin Xiaoyang,” Xiaoyue suddenly said.
“What?”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you for what?”
“Thank you for… letting me know that I don’t have to be perfect.”
I looked at her, then suddenly reached out and ruffled her hair: “You idiot.”
She smiled and dodged, her ponytail drawing a joyful arc in the sunlight.
In the distance, the train’s whistle blew. We exchanged smiles and dragged our suitcases towards our respective futures.
Two twin flowers finally blossomed in different ways.
(End of Novel)