Later, even after they had moved on from Chinese chess to checkers, the power still hadn’t come back. During a break from the games, Lin Xian fumbled around the TV cabinet and unexpectedly found a few infamous horror DVDs. Her eyes lit up with excitement as she invited Xiao Wanqing to watch them with her.

  Xiao Wanqing couldn’t even remember where those DVDs had come from. Under the flickering candlelight, the blood-red DVD covers looked especially eerie, sending chills down her spine.

  What Lin Xian didn’t know was that Xiao Wanqing had always been terribly afraid of gory and supernatural stories. In her younger years, when she lived in a dorm, she had given in to curiosity once or twice under her roommates’ coaxing. But every time, without fail, she ended up sleepless and had to drag someone along just to go to the bathroom. Eventually, her roommates discovered this little weakness and forbade her from joining them when watching such films—or even when talking about them. She was just too much to handle! Watching those movies was probably when she’d been at her most humiliating. Later, living alone for so many years, she knew her limits and naturally stayed far, far away from anything scary.

  Luckily, there was a perfectly reasonable excuse today: a power outage. She reached out and put the DVDs back where she found them, saying to Lin Xian with a tinge of regret, “You forgot—there’s no electricity right now. We can’t watch even if we wanted to.”

  Lin Xian let out a disappointed “Oh,” full of regret. “What a shame. I mean, just look at this night—pitch black, howling winds and pouring rain. It’s the perfect setting for a horror movie!” As she spoke, a fierce gust of wind and rain slammed against the window, making a loud bang, bang, bang.

  Xiao Wanqing, already lost in the haunting memories of her past, jolted from head to toe at the sudden noise.

  She looked up and saw Lin Xian staring intently at her, the corners of her lips curled into a mischievous grin. “Aunt Xiao, are you scared?” she teased knowingly.

  Trying to act calm, Xiao Wanqing forced a smile and said stubbornly, “I’m not…”

  That only encouraged Lin Xian. She leaned in closer and rested her chin on Xiao Wanqing’s shoulder, speaking in a soft, pleading voice, “Then when the power comes back, let’s watch one together, okay?”

  Xiao Wanqing stiffened, scrambling for a way to get this terrifying idea out of Lin Xian’s head—when the girl added pitifully, “I really want to watch it… but I’m too scared to do it alone… Aunt Xiao, will you stay with me?”

  That sweet, soft voice curled gently around her ear. She turned her head and met Lin Xian’s eyes—bright, imploring, and full of sincerity. In the end, she just couldn’t bring herself to say no.

  “…Okay. Once the power’s back,” she agreed.

  And so, for the rest of the night, Lin Xian was filled with anticipation, constantly wondering why the power still hadn’t returned. When the clock finally struck eleven and there was still no electricity, she had no choice but to accept defeat. The two of them washed up quickly in the dark, said goodnight, and returned to their rooms to rest.

  The next morning, the skies were clear, the sun shining bright in a picture-perfect scene. The moment Lin Xian woke up, her first thought was: Is the power back?! Sure, there were classes tomorrow, but a movie only took two or three hours. If she acted cute, Aunt Xiao would definitely agree. If the electricity was back, they could watch the movie tonight!

  She reached out nervously and flipped the switch near the bedside cabinet. Click—the lamp came on.

  Her sleepiness instantly vanished. Excited, she sat up in bed, hopped down barefoot, and rushed to share the good news with Xiao Wanqing—forgetting even to put on her slippers.

  “Aunt Xiao! The power’s back…!” she called out joyfully even before she reached the room.

  Xiao Wanqing’s door was open. Though she hadn’t seen her yet, Lin Xian couldn’t help but call out happily.

  Her voice reached the kitchen before she did. Xiao Wanqing, who was just ladling out porridge for her, heard the excitement in her tone and couldn’t help but smile. She turned toward the door and saw Lin Xian with her long black hair all fluffy and wild, pillow lines still faintly etched on her cheeks—obviously just woken up. But her eyes sparkled brightly, completely free of sleep.

  “Aunt Xiao, the power’s back! Let’s watch the movie tonight!” she repeated, bouncing with excitement.

  Xiao Wanqing chuckled—this girl was really looking forward to it. Then her gaze dropped to Lin Xian’s bare feet. Her brows knitted in concern.

  “Why aren’t you wearing shoes? The floor is cold, and you’re still not fully recovered,” she said gently.

  Lin Xian looked down at her chilly bare feet and instantly felt the cold rush up from the soles. Embarrassed, she said, “I got too excited and forgot.” Then she turned and ran back to her room to grab her slippers.

  She put on her shoes and was just about to run out to talk to Xiao Wanqing again when she suddenly froze. As if remembering something crucial, she dashed straight into the bathroom.

  …...

  Who was this bedhead gremlin staring back at her from the mirror? And—was that drool at the corner of her mouth?!

  Lin Xian was on the verge of a meltdown. Her carefully maintained image of the flawless pretty girl in front of Aunt Xiao was ruined!

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  By the time she came back out to face Xiao Wanqing, a lot of time had passed. She refused to reappear until the red pillow marks on her face had faded completely.

  Xiao Wanqing called her over for breakfast, smiling as she teased, “Did you happen to see a sleepy little scatterbrain earlier? Hair all wild, about this tall.” As she spoke, she gestured to emphasize the chaotic look.

  Lin Xian pretended not to understand the joke and mumbled, “No, nope. Only a pretty girl here.” Then, determined to change the subject, she asked, “Aunt Xiao, do you know when the power came back?”

  Holding a spoon in one hand and resting the other lightly on her lower abdomen, Xiao Wanqing answered without a second thought, “Around two-thirty, I think. The lights just suddenly came on.”

  Lin Xian, still looking down, replied with a casual “Oh,” and took a sip of porridge. But two seconds later, something clicked in her mind. She looked up in concern.

  “Aunt Xiao, how do you know that so clearly? Were you still awake that late?” she asked, her voice full of worry.

  Aunt Xiao had stayed up all night taking care of her the day before and had only managed a short nap during the afternoon. Last night, she should’ve been completely exhausted, fast asleep. Lin Xian studied her more closely and noticed that, indeed, Xiao Wanqing’s complexion looked paler than usual, and there was a trace of fatigue in her eyes. Her gaze dropped lower—and she saw that Xiao Wanqing’s hand was still resting on her lower abdomen in an unusual way.

  Born into a scholarly family, Xiao Wanqing had been doted on by her parents but also strictly raised. Ever since Lin Xian came to stay, she’d been impressed again and again by Aunt Xiao’s quiet grace—effortless and natural. This, she thought, must be the true aura of an elegant, cultivated woman.

  Which made today’s posture—one hand resting on the table, the other on her abdomen—very out of place.

  Now that she noticed it, even Aunt Xiao’s gentle smile seemed a little forced and weary.

  Lin Xian’s heart clenched. Uneasy, she blurted out before Xiao Wanqing could even respond:

  “Aunt Xiao, are you feeling unwell?”

  Xiao Wanqing curled her lips into a soft smile and gently reassured her, “I’m alright. Just had a bit of an upset stomach last night, so I didn’t sleep very well.”

  Lin Xian’s face tightened with concern. “Is it your stomach? Did you eat something hard to digest yesterday? Did you take any medicine?”

  Her questions came one after another, her brows furrowing deeper with every word. The worry in her eyes was plain as day.

  Xiao Wanqing’s heart softened, and the gentleness in her gaze deepened. She reached out and lightly smoothed the frown on Lin Xian’s forehead with her cool fingertips, teasing, “Little one, don’t frown so much. You’ll get forehead lines early if you’re not careful.” But when she saw that Lin Xian still looked uneasy, not saying a word, she added warmly, “Don’t worry, it’s not my stomach. The first couple of days are always a bit uncomfortable—it’ll pass soon.”

  At first, Lin Xian didn’t catch on. She blinked in confusion, but once it clicked, her face flushed in an instant, a soft pink blooming across her cheeks and even tinting her ears. She was shy by nature and felt awkward talking about such personal things. But this time, the mix of heartache and a touch of anger overpowered her embarrassment.

  Ever since she started her own cycle, she’d been pretty regular and never experienced anything unbearable. But her best friend, Yan Yuhuan, suffered terribly every time—sometimes so much she couldn’t even stand up straight. Having sat next to her for three years, Lin Xian knew all too well how awful it could be. The thought alone made her uneasy.

  She looked at Xiao Wanqing, her expression growing heavier. Losing sleep over the pain—how bad must it have been? If she hadn’t noticed, would Xiao Wanqing have just kept it to herself, acting like nothing was wrong while pushing through the pain, cooking for her, smiling like always?

  She didn’t know why—maybe it wasn’t fair—but she couldn’t help feeling a little angry.

  Why didn’t she say anything? Why didn’t she let her help?

  Lin Xian gently took Xiao Wanqing’s hand, removing the fingers resting on her forehead, then slowly closed her own around them, bringing them down to rest on her lap. She looked up, meeting Xiao Wanqing’s gaze with a serious expression that lacked her usual brightness.

  “Aunt Xiao, do you remember the agreement we made on my first day here?” she asked, her voice steady. “You promised to treat me like someone mature, with an independent mind of my own, right?”

  The warmth from Lin Xian’s hand seeped into Xiao Wanqing’s fingers. She looked down at their joined hands and nodded softly.

  Lin Xian’s voice grew tinged with hurt. “But even though you said that, you didn’t really do it.”

  Xiao Wanqing was briefly taken aback. She opened her mouth to explain, but Lin Xian didn’t give her the chance.

  “There’s a saying, ‘A close neighbor is better than a distant relative.’ We live under the same roof. If you really saw me as someone you could treat equally, as someone more than just a clueless kid, then shouldn’t we be helping and caring for each other? When I got sick, you took care of me. So if you’re not feeling well, I should be allowed to take care of you too.”

  Xiao Wanqing hadn’t expected Lin Xian to think so deeply about these things. She always seemed to bring surprises—sweet ones. Sometimes innocent like a child, and sometimes surprisingly mature beyond her years. With her free thumb, she gently stroked the back of Lin Xian’s hand, her voice soft and apologetic, “Lin Xian, I never saw you as a clueless kid. You know that.”

  She wanted to explain, but how could she? This wasn’t about Lin Xian. This was about her.

  Some people are used to sharing; others, to silence. Xiao Wanqing had simply grown used to enduring things on her own. Used to having no one to tell, to carrying it all quietly.

  Lin Xian slowly turned her hand, their fingers intertwining. Her brows relaxed, lips curving into a gentle smile, eyes shimmering with sincerity and warmth.

  “Then promise me, okay? Next time you’re not feeling well, tell me. I know I’m still young, but I can do a lot too. Aunt Xiao, we live together now, and you said it—we’re family. So from now on, you’re not alone anymore. You can lean on me.”

  Xiao Wanqing stared at her, momentarily overwhelmed. Lean on someone. How long had it been since she last heard—or even considered—those words?

  She felt a strange daze come over her.

  From childhood, her parents told her, We’ll always be your safe harbor and your reliance. Then they pushed her out the door. Once, someone held her close and whispered, You have me. I’ll always be here for you. And then that person left too.

  Approaching thirty, life charged her an expensive tuition fee, teaching her that mountains relied on will collapse, people relied on will run away – self-reliance is precious.

  But still, that word… it was just too beautiful.

  She looked at Lin Xian’s fresh, youthful face—still untouched by life’s harshness. In her eyes, there was only sincerity, only warmth. So different from the others she’d met later in life. So pure.

  Something in Xiao Wanqing’s heart trembled—again and again.

  Young people, not yet worn down by the world, always made promises with such ease. And yet, they were always so sincere, so moving.

  She asked herself, Can I allow myself to be vulnerable, just a little? Not for long—just until Lin Xian no longer wants to offer this warmth. Just for a little while, could I borrow a bit of it… a bit of her strength?

  Just for a bit. Like a real family.

  That wouldn’t be too greedy, would it? It wouldn’t hurt anyone, right?

  She looked at Lin Xian, eyes sparkling. After a long pause, she finally smiled—soft, radiant—and replied gently, “Okay. I promise. We’re family.”

  Her voice was light, and her smile shone like sunlight.