Chen Lin: “Oh, I see. Tang Shuxuan definitely can’t be counted on, looks like I’ll have to do the homework myself today.”
After saying this, Chen Lin was about to hang up.
Lin Zhexia suddenly said, “Wait.”
Chen Lin paused: “Huh?”
“I have something I want to ask you.”
Lin Zhexia hesitated a bit: “It’s about a friend of mine.”
She squeezed her pen and continued: “This friend of mine has another very good friend, a boy, but recently she feels like things between her and this boy have become a bit strange.”
Chen Lin directly asked: “What’s strange between you and Chi Yao?”
Lin Zhexia almost snapped her pen: “…”
Lin Zhexia: “Say. That. Again.”
Chen Lin: “Ahem, let me rephrase. Your friend and her friend, what’s strange about them?”
“They just, sometimes when they get too close to each other, they start to feel a bit uncomfortable.”
Chen Lin perked up her ears, thinking she was about to hear some earth-shattering gossip, but after waiting a long time, all she got was this: “That’s it?”
Lin Zhexia: “What do you mean ‘that’s it’? Isn’t that enough? Me and Chi Yao… I mean, my friend and her friend used to be so close they could share the same pants without feeling uncomfortable.”
Chen Lin fell silent.
After the silence, she asked: “This ‘used to be,’ how long ago was it?”
Lin Zhexia: “Around eight years old, I stole his pants to wear.”
“…”
Chen Lin fell silent again.
Lin Zhexia: “And when we were ten, I braided his hair, and he was angry for a long time.”
Lin Zhexia: “And also…”
Chen Lin: “Stop, enough.”
Lin Zhexia: “?”
“Lin Zhexia, you’re not eight years old anymore, nor are you ten. You are now sixteen.”
Chen Lin let out a long sigh. “What you’re experiencing isn’t strangeness, it’s that you’ve grown up and finally realized that Chi Yao is a boy, a boy whose pants you can’t steal anymore, understand?”
Lin Zhexia: “…”
After a while.
Lin Zhexia said, “I understand.”
She had vaguely been aware of this point before, but she hadn’t seen it as clearly as Chen Lin did.
Ever since she saw that new version of Chi Yao.
She found that she could no longer do many of the things she did as a child in front of him so freely.
“No,” she quickly added, “my friend probably understands now.”
Chi Yao’s fever wasn’t anything serious; after a night’s sleep, his temperature returned to normal.
Lin Zhexia didn’t believe it and pressed him to take his temperature again.
Chi Yao returned to his usual casual and somewhat arrogant demeanor: “I told you I’m fine.”
Lin Zhexia: “Maybe it’s because you took medicine yesterday.”
Chi Yao: “I would have been fine without it, too.”
Lin Zhexia: “…”
This person, in some ways.
I was just very concerned about saving face.
In the end, looking at the thermometer, she had to admit that he had indeed recovered very quickly.
Midway through the winter break, Lin He went to the hospital for another prenatal checkup.
The results were not optimistic.
“At your age, having a child carries significant risks,” the doctor said, holding the test results as Lin Zhexia accompanied Lin He to the hospital. “I can’t make any promises. It’s as I told you before, think it through carefully.”
Lin He sat outside, somewhat lost: “Mom is torn now. My rational side tells me I shouldn’t have this child. Your Wei Uncle and I had already decided before we came, but…”
Lin Zhexia could understand this feeling.
During this time, she had grown accustomed to the idea of Lin He being pregnant. Whenever she thought about the potential brother or sister possibly being gone, she felt a bit empty inside, let alone Lin He herself.
She suddenly realized she was witnessing Lin He’s vulnerability.
Or rather, as she grew up, she gradually discovered that “adults” weren’t the superheroes she thought they were as a child.
There were many unexpected events in life that even adults couldn’t resist.