My sister, whom I raised, has turned evil after faking her death for three years.

[There was no inappropriate content, please leave me alone QAQ]

As she said this, Jiang Ran's hands were still restless, her fingertips quietly creeping up her sister's waist.

Su Qing was completely flustered. She instinctively reached for the mischievous hand, her voice urgent and soft, trembling slightly with unsteady breath: "Xiao Ran, you... please stop messing around..."

She wanted Xiao Ran to take her hand back, but for some reason, as soon as Xiao Ran's fingertips lightly touched her waist, she felt as if all the strength in her body had been drained away.

She bit her lower lip, trying hard not to make any strange noises, but the two blushes on her face had spread from her cheeks to her ears, and even her slender neck was tinged with a thin layer of pink.

Jiang Ran looked at her sister, who was clearly weak all over but was still desperately trying to endure it, and a deep light flashed in her eyes.

Then she withdrew her hand.

Su Qing felt the mischievous fingers around her waist finally leave, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

She lay on the sofa for a while to recover, then rolled over and prepared to get up, muttering, "Xiao Ran, you've gone astray."

However, just as she bent over with her back to Jiang Ran and propped herself up, the wide hem of her casual clothes fell down with her movement, revealing a section of her fair and slender waist.

Jiang Ran looked at the skin that was still dazzlingly white even in the dim light, and couldn't help but reach out and gently poke the exposed part of her waist.

"Ugh—" Su Qing's body, which had just been propped up, went limp again, her forehead resting on the sofa armrest, her fingers unconsciously clenching the blanket beneath her.

Jiang Ran wrapped her arms around her waist from behind, pulling her close, resting her chin on her shoulder, and said with a mischievous smile, "Weren't you quite talkative just now, sister? Why did you stop?"

Su Qing felt weak all over from her series of actions, but still didn't think about anything else.

  

In her eyes, Xiao Ran was still the little mushroom who liked to cling to her and act cute since she was a child. Her current behavior was just revenge after being rendered speechless by her words. She was tickling her because she felt unconvinced.

She lay sprawled on the sofa, still stubbornly insisting, "It...it's true, Xiao Ran, you...you can't argue with that...um..."

Before she could finish speaking, she was gently poked in the waist again, and Su Qing slumped back onto the sofa, feeling completely weak.

Jiang Ran leaned down close to her ear, noticing that her small, delicate ear was already red as if it were about to bleed. She lowered her voice and chuckled softly in her ear, "Sister, is it possible that I'm not a child anymore?"

The warm breath brushing against her ear made Su Qing feel terrible, and her breathing became increasingly unsteady.

But she still turned her head slightly, and although her eyes were covered with a thin layer of water, they still carried tenderness and doting.

She looked at Jiang Ran with eyes brimming with tears, a soft smile curving her lips despite being bullied: "Xiao Ran...aren't you my child?"

Looking at her like this, Jiang Ran felt that the string of self-control in her mind snapped completely in that instant.

Does her older sister even know what she looks like now...? She's being teased and teased in her arms, her eyes are red, her lips are glistening from being bitten, and she's even trembling when she speaks, yet she still looks at her with that gentle, almost indulgent gaze, and still says in that matter-of-fact tone, "Xiao Ran is your child."

Does she really not know how hard she is enduring it?

Jiang Ran couldn't help but gently poke her lower back again.

Su Qing finally collapsed onto the sofa, her breathing rapid. Her already beautiful face was now flushed crimson, her lips slightly parted, and a single tear clung to the corner of her eye.

Looking at her sister like this, Jiang Ran felt like she was going crazy.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Meanwhile, in the next private room, Wen Liang was holding a cup of tea, savoring it with an elegant gesture. Then she looked up at the woman across the table who was devouring all the dishes on the table with the speed and efficiency of a whirlwind.

Lin Zhi held a wine glass in one hand and chopsticks in the other, eating a bite of food and drinking a sip of wine so quickly that Wen Liang wondered if she had been starving for three days.

She knew Lin Zhi had a habit of overeating and drinking when she was in a bad mood, but the problem was, she was in a bad mood right now. It couldn't be because the young lady made her stay with her, could it?

By this time, several bottles of low-alcohol fruit wine were already empty on the table, and Lin Zhi's cheeks were flushed red, but she showed no sign of stopping and picked up a new bottle to continue pouring into the glass.

Wen Liang finally couldn't stand it anymore and reached out to grab her wrist: "Isn't that enough? You can't be this angry just because we were alone in a private room, can you?"

Lin Zhi raised her eyes, which were clearly tinged with intoxication, and looked at her.

The look in her eyes first turned to anger, then to bewilderment, then to grievance, and finally, her lips trembled, her eyes reddened, and she burst into tears.

Wen Liang was so startled by her shout that she almost dropped her teacup. She froze in her seat. No, she only said one sentence. She didn't yell at her, did she?

Then she heard Lin Zhi crying and accusing, "Waaah... Even you're mean to me... I don't want to live anymore... That wicked woman Ding Xin even said I'm old... You're mean to me too... Do you also think I'm old... Waaah... I don't want to live anymore... I don't want to live anymore..."

While wailing, she grabbed a potato chip from the plate on the table and made a wrist-cutting motion with it, looking as if she wanted to end her life with this fragile potato chip.

Wen Liang's lips twitched, and he finally put the teacup he was holding back on the table.

So this guy acted so tough outside, verbally arguing with Ding Xin from beginning to end, but he's still holding a grudge about that word.

However, she suddenly understood why Lin Zhi cared so much. Lin Zhi was a year older than her and was already twenty-six this year.

Today, a woman in her thirties told me I looked old in front of everyone, and in a comparative context that she cares about most...

Looking at the girl in front of her waving potato chips and claiming she was going to cut her wrists, Wen Liang suddenly didn't know whether to be angry or amused. She could only reach out and snatch the half-crushed potato chip from her hand and throw it into the trash can, then hand her a tissue.

Lin Zhi took the tissue and immediately lost her murderous intent. She wiped her face haphazardly, then picked up her chopsticks, grabbed a piece of braised pork, and stuffed it into her mouth. While chewing, she mumbled indistinctly with a nasal tone, "I'll settle the score with you after I'm full."

Wenliang helplessly poured her a cup of warm water, thinking that she would probably fall asleep after eating.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

P.S.: I was originally going to update at 8 PM, but Shen He suppressed it, so the reading experience might not be very good, but I've tried my best to revise it QAQ