The next day, some busybody recorded Cheng Lele’s heroic deed on Tai High School’s online forum. The title was “I Am a Priest.” Clicking it open, there was only one line inside:
Quickly drag this golden boy and jade girl Chen An and Cheng Lele in here and make them get married on the spot!
The netizen who grabbed the first comment replied: Ding dang dang dang, ding dang dang dang…
The one below: Now please welcome the groom’s entrance. Fireworks ready.
The several hundred floors that followed were all witnesses to an imaginary wedding.
But some people just had no sense of occasion and insisted on being the only sober one when everyone else was drunk. Among the uniform replies of giving wedding money, they inserted a sentence: Chen An is Cheng Lele’s older cousin. Everyone disperse.
Soon someone expressed agreement—I’m from Buxi, I can testify. Once when Chen An’s parents didn’t have time to come to parent-teacher conference, it was Cheng Lele’s family who attended as representatives.
There was also a reply with solid evidence: Right, I saw the two of them at my cousin’s wedding. They came together. If needed, I can ask my cousin for the wedding video as proof.
Wherever there was a CP, there was a CP-breaking party. The enthusiastic wedding was instantly swept away by wind and rain. The national CP disbanded on the spot, having existed for only twenty-four hours.
Quan Zirong scrolled through his phone, so angry his lungs were about to explode. He sat backwards on the chair in front of Chen An, pointing at his phone and saying: “This generation of netizens really won’t do. They don’t have any initiative for on-site investigation at all, only hearing hearsay and catching shadows.”
Quan Zirong was the only friend who had visited Chen An’s home. Once upon a time, he too had thought like everyone else, assuming Cheng Lele was Chen An’s cousin. But at that time, coincidentally, when Chen An was seeing him out, they happened to run into Cheng Lele’s mother, and Chen An called her “Godmother,” which made Quan Zirong’s whole body shudder as he keenly perceived his good brother’s secret.
He thought what his brother thought and worried what his brother worried about. He asked Chen An, who was flipping through a Mathematical Olympiad specialized book: “Did you consummate the marriage last night?”
Chen An didn’t even lift his eyelids: “Get lost.”
Quan Zirong said: “How can you not be anxious at all?”
“The emperor isn’t anxious but the eunuch is.” Chen An unscrewed a drink bottle and took a sip of water. “Lele is still young, don’t talk nonsense.”
Quan Zirong shifted his chair: “Holy crap, she’s still young? Yesterday she was dressed like a football babe, protruding front and rear—” The last word was swept back into his throat by Chen An’s sharp glance. Quan Zirong waved his hand. “No, but my grandmother gave birth to my dad at our age. I’m saying Cheng Lele has already acted so deliberately conspicuous, what are you still dawdling and waiting for? You have the advantage of proximity—you could have struck first to gain the upper hand. Are you still waiting for thieves to covet her?”
Chen An turned his pen and reopened the brick-like book, saying: “Lele doesn’t have that intention.”
Seeing Chen An’s appearance of being unshakeable with everything under control, Quan Zirong stopped being anxious too and said coolly: “Fine then. It’s actually quite good that she doesn’t have that intention. It just so happens that many people are asking me for Lele’s QQ number. If you have time, help me deliberate too—which bastard would be suitable.”
Chen An looked up, asking warily: “What for?”
“What for? Yesterday Cheng Lele was so cool, so dashing, so mighty, like a little queen—she just lacked a crown on top of her head. How could people not covet her? It’s just that everyone thought the little queen was pursuing you, and their hearts were bubbling with sourness. Now it’s great—you two have a pure sibling relationship, so everyone has a chance. Right now around Cheng Lele, wolves circle everywhere, and there are plenty of thieves coveting her.”
Chen An closed his book and said: “She won’t.”
Chen An’s state of mind at this time was about the same as Cheng Dong’s—basically: I watched her grow up, no one in this world could understand her better than me or love her more than me, the person she’ll love most in this life will definitely be me too, and any bastard who dares to covet her will get his legs broken—that kind of optimistic mentality.
Moreover, Chen An recalled that last time when Cheng Lele secretly went out with someone else to watch a movie behind his back, after he caught her, she immediately came back with him meekly and obediently. This showed that his authority was still intact. Since he had given her a warning, Cheng Lele wouldn’t commit the offense again.
Overall, Cheng Lele was an obedient child who listened to Chen An and liked to share everything with him in great detail. In Chen An’s view, Cheng Lele was transparent both in life and spiritually—she could be understood at a glance. This was also the reason why Chen An had been unhurriedly waiting for the two of them to grow up together.
Chen An had planned their future as clearly as solving a math problem with distinct steps. Currently, he was strictly executing step one: study hard.
But Quan Zirong’s reminder, he also listened to with an open mind. He pondered whether he should invite his godfather to come to school for a presentation. Cheng Dong had been transferred to the criminal investigation team three years ago. Fighting wits and courage with criminals every day, even his appearance had become much more fierce. He should have a deterrent effect on those wolf cubs ready to make a move.
At the same time, it was also necessary to do some preventive work on Cheng Lele’s side.
Coincidentally, Great-Uncle’s grapes had another abundant harvest this year, and he had his son send a box each to the two families upstairs and downstairs. In the evening, Chen An was reading and working on problems in the living room while keeping his ears perked for sounds outside. Before long, he heard the security door of his home banging.
Chen An smiled with pursed lips, stood up, and opened the door. Cheng Lele came over carrying two bunches of grapes.
Grandma Chen no longer stayed overnight here, so he was the only one home. As soon as Cheng Lele entered and saw the draft paper spread on the dining table, she felt a bit troubled.
“You’re studying?” Cheng Lele had just taken off her shoes but reluctantly put them back on: “Then should I, should I, just leave first?”
Chen An made a sound of acknowledgment and sat back in his dining chair, his eyes unmoving as he stared at the book. From the corner of his eye, he watched Cheng Lele struggle with that shoe for a good five minutes.
Chen An thought, in this amount of time, even a centipede would have finished putting on its shoes.
Cheng Lele pouted her lips aggrievedly, but in the end still sensibly stepped one leg toward the door.
“Come back.” Chen An lazily called out.
Cheng Lele immediately rushed in like a little dog: “That’s right, don’t read books all day long, it’s bad for your eyes. Balance work and rest, relax appropriately, take a break.”
As she spoke, she pushed the grapes toward the human peeling machine across from her.
Chen An washed his hands, took out two small plates and a stack of wet tissues from the kitchen, and asked: “What about your homework?”
“Haven’t done it yet.”
“What were you doing downstairs?”
“Keeping my mom company watching a Taiwanese idol drama. My mom kept crying the whole time, so I had to be in charge of pulling out tissues.”
Chen An nodded. Godmother was an opera performer, emotionally abundant and easily immersed in roles. He peeled one grape and put it on the plate: “What’s it about?”
“The story of Cinderella and a prince. The two loved each other as students but were torn apart by the prince’s mother. Cinderella painfully left while pregnant with the prince’s child. Many years later, she encountered the prince again. The prince had always mistakenly believed that Cinderella with her child was fickle, hypocritical, promiscuous, and so on, so he humiliated her in every way. Cinderella was in agony but remained silent and endured before the prince.” Cheng Lele swallowed a grape and made a gesture urging Chen An to peel faster. “That’s where it is now. I don’t know what will happen next either. Anyway, it’s particularly miserable. This Cinderella is a Chinese softshell turtle spirit—she doesn’t say anything about anything, just bears all the suffering alone. It makes me furious, but my mom says this is great sacrifice, this is the power of love. Big Brother, what do you think?”
Cheng Lele chattered on with complaints. After listening, Chen An commented: “I think this story tells us that puppy love is harmful.”
“Huh?” Cheng Lele didn’t expect Big Brother’s perspective to be so unconventional. “How did you see that?”
“If Cinderella hadn’t engaged in puppy love with the prince back then, but instead chose to improve herself properly, advance alongside the prince, and grow together until they were strong enough to resist external forces, then what use would the mother-in-law’s disdain be? They could have as many children as they wanted. With capital in their own hands, everything would be free. But they didn’t do that. They chose puppy love. Puppy love makes people impulsive, and impulse is the devil.”
Cheng Lele listened dumbfounded: “Big Brother, so you have such a good relationship with Old Ji not because you’re a big star—turns out you two are essentially the same type of people.”
Chen An ignored this and asked: “Did you listen and take it in?”
Cheng Lele said: “I took it in. Impulse is the devil. I shouldn’t have dressed like that yesterday and rushed to find you.”
Chen An thought, what kind of god-level comprehension is this: “That’s not what I meant.”
The orange dining room light overhead shone on Cheng Lele’s face, illuminating her features to appear especially bold and expressive: “But yesterday wasn’t an impulse either. I plotted for several days, from designing the style to finding a reliable shop owner, I checked everything carefully. If it were a crime, this would count as premeditated, not a crime of passion.”
Chen An’s heart was like a blooming fat choy, full and swollen, even his internal organs filled with the taste of happiness. He secretly chuckled: “Mm, got it. You were methodical and strategic, which quite demonstrates your intelligence and courage.”
Cheng Lele was praised by Chen An and felt delighted, eating grapes with even more gusto.
All around was silent. Chen An might have been brainwashed by the idol drama plot and suddenly wondered where to hide an engagement ring in the future to be romantic when proposing. He himself wasn’t good at creating surprises, but clearly Cheng Lele was that type of person, so he had to match her effort somehow. His imagination exhausted, he thought about maybe embedding the ring in grape flesh—didn’t movies always show scenes of women ecstatically discovering diamond rings while eating cake? But when he glanced at the person across from him sucking down grapes one by one, not even chewing, swallowing them into her stomach in an embarrassing manner, he immediately abandoned this approach.
He couldn’t very well go fishing for a diamond ring in the toilet later.
Originally that evening, he had wanted to take the opportunity to instill in Cheng Lele the message that “puppy love is harmful,” but Cheng Lele successfully led him astray. Enveloped in happiness, Chen An lost his sense of crisis. He felt things weren’t as dire as Quan Zirong described. Thinking he could talk about it later, he let Cheng Lele chatter about other things.