Hello, I'm Your Sister's Classmate

The steady voice of the news anchor continued on the television, accompanied by the subdued mourning in Qingzhong Mausoleum.

Su Qi held a half-eaten apple frozen near his lips, its juice dripping between his fingers unnoticed.

Liu Yuan quietly observed Su Qi's expression.

She reached out and pressed the red button on the remote.

The screen went black, plunging the living room into sudden silence, leaving only the faint sound of their breathing.

Su Qi finally stirred, tossing the remaining apple onto the coffee table with a soft thud.

Truth be told, this scene still weighed heavily on him.

Despite his usual nonchalant remarks about human lives,

actually witnessing soldiers charging forward knowing they faced certain death—while he, armed with hidden cards, hesitated—

left a bitter taste in his mouth.

It wasn’t about being "soft-hearted."

Just a natural human reaction.

Even if he couldn’t comprehend their courage, he refused to take pride in his own survival.

"Brother." Liu Yuan shifted closer to Su Qi.

She bit her lower lip, her usually lively eyes now brimming with concern.

Suddenly, she stood up and walked over to him.

Su Qi sensed the movement, cracking his eyelids slightly.

"Lie down," Liu Yuan commanded, her tone firm and unlike her usual playful self.

Before he could protest, she placed both hands on his shoulders and pushed him deeper into the couch, which sank under his weight.

"Wha—"

"Shh." Liu Yuan leaned down, her fair face inches from his, her breath warm against his neck, carrying the sweet scent unique to a young girl.

Her movements were clumsy, almost rough, but she feigned composure, her small face tense.

"Brother, are you hurting?" she murmured.

Su Qi was caught off guard by her sudden actions as the couch dipped further under her weight.

Her small hands began kneading his forehead and temples haphazardly—more like handling dough than giving a massage.

Su Qi: "..."

He wanted to say this would only worsen his headache.

"Brother, don’t look so stiff," she mumbled while pressing. "If you smile, all the sadness will fly away."

Su Qi didn’t stop her.

Her cool fingertips, despite their lack of technique, somehow eased the tension coiled inside him.

Encouraged by his lack of resistance, Liu Yuan grew bolder.

She nestled lower, almost sprawled across his chest, her head resting on his shoulder.

"I want you to feel less tired."

Her hair tickled his chin.

Su Qi raised a hand, intending to push her away, but his fingers hesitated.

They hovered above her soft hair, motionless.

"Where did you learn this?"

"From dramas!" Liu Yuan declared proudly. "Heroines always comfort the hero like this, and then he gets energized."

His taut muscles gradually relaxed in her warm embrace, soothed by her gentle fragrance.

The exhaustion buried deep in his soul seemed to find an outlet.

Noticing the change, Liu Yuan peeked up and saw the softened lines of his face, swelling with quiet triumph.

"See? It works, right?" she asked eagerly.

Su Qi didn’t answer, simply closing his eyes.

Liu Yuan fell silent too, staying still as she listened to his steadying breath and heartbeat.

Her hand slid from his forehead to rest lightly over his heart, as if her warmth could smooth the creases within.

The living room was peaceful.

Su Qi felt a rare tranquility—not the hollow relief after escaping danger, nor the fleeting recovery from a nap at home.

But something deeper, wrapped in tenderness.

After a while, Liu Yuan fidgeted, finding the position uncomfortable.

She wriggled fully into the crook of his arm, curling up like a kitten seeking warmth.

"Brother," she whispered again.

"Hmm?"

"If you’re ever unhappy or exhausted…" She paused, searching for words. "…tell me."

She lifted her face, dark eyes earnest. "I might not be as strong as you, with all your amazing tricks, but I’ll still find ways to cheer you up."

"Like what?" Su Qi arched a brow.

Liu Yuan leaned close to his ear, her voice barely audible. "Well…"

"If nothing else works… you can always vent those extra emotions on…"

Some sibling secrets are best left unheard, lest envy stir and unsettle the heart.

Su Qi let her continue.

"Got it."

Two simple words, yet they anchored her completely.

Hearing his reply, Liu Yuan nearly bubbled over with joy.

She squirmed free, her cheeks flushed from both the closeness and her scheming.

"Brother, you’re still exhausted, right?" She blinked, her tone mysterious.

Su Qi hummed in agreement—physical fatigue healed easily, but the mind wasn’t so quick to mend.

"I… I know how to help you recover faster!"

Liu Yuan puffed her chest, radiating confidence.

She tugged his hand, pulling him upright from the couch.

Baffled but trusting her determination, Su Qi followed without question.

She adjusted the curtains, leaving only a sliver of light, then scurried to her room, rummaging through drawers.

Soon, she returned, buzzing with excitement—or was it nerves?

"Brother, was your Path’s End Spear destroyed in yesterday’s fight?"

Indeed.

Normally, damaged cards would regenerate over time—unless the blow exceeded their durability limit.

Around two tiers’ worth.

Unfortunately, the cannon-fodder crushed by the Ash Lord yesterday happened to be tier twelve.

So when Su Qi hurled the Path’s End Spear, it shattered instantly under that single finger.

It hadn’t sunk in then, but now? The regret stung.

"Yeah. Why?"

"So… I asked my best friend to forge you a new spear. Will you cooperate with her?"

Su Qi's eyelids twitched slightly.

How could he not know that his foolish little sister was acquainted with any blacksmith?

Yet he didn't voice his doubts, silently allowing it.

Soon after, he watched as the silly girl retreated back into her room.

Roughly two and a half minutes later.

The bedroom door creaked open gently, and a figure stepped inside.

The first thing that caught his eye was the girl's bare, snow-white feet padding across the floor.

A red string adorned her ankle, dangling a delicate little bell.

His gaze traveled upward—a black devil-heart garter squeezed around her thigh, barely accentuating its soft curves.

A fox mask hung askew by her petite head, failing to obscure the blatant look of disdain on her face.

She stared straight at Su Qi, slumped on the couch, her eyes radiating unmasked annoyance.

The girl clicked her tongue with a soft "tsk."

Though quiet, the sound rang crystal clear in Su Qi's ears.

Noticing the movement, Su Qi turned to his foolish sister.

"What? Never seen a beauty before?"

The bell jingled sharply as she moved with exaggerated irritation, as if underscoring her displeasure.

With a loud huff, she marched to the couch but hesitated, unsure whether to sit.

"I’m your sister’s classmate. Call me Su Ying."

Su Qi: ???

A new plotline unlocked?

His sister’s perpetually annoyed classmate?

"Su Ying"? Seriously? More like "Miss Grumpy."

"And I’m also a skilled blacksmith."

"Hand over your gun. Let’s see if it’s fixable."

"Wipe that disgusting look off your face. If it weren’t for your sister begging, I wouldn’t spare you a glance."

The room’s temperature seemed to rise gradually.

Not from summer heat, but a searing warmth radiating from within.

Though clueless about where this was headed, Su Qi obliged, materializing the damaged card of his "End’s Edge" gun.

Su Ying’s scowl deepened. "Not this one."

Su Qi fell silent.

He could only manifest two guns.

Before he could react—

"Quit dawdling. I’m on a tight schedule," Su Ying snapped, taking matters into her own hands.

She summoned his weapon herself.

Studying it, she muttered, "Hmph. It’s lost its edge."

"Now, I’ll... reforge it. Reshape it into a divine weapon!"

With that declaration, she gripped the weapon firmly.

Su Qi shuddered slightly.

"First, I’ll inspect where the fractures are."

Su Ying channeled her soul energy into the weapon—gentle, trickling streams nurturing it like a quiet spring.

Then, her movements shifted.

No longer just transferring energy, she began a rhythmic kneading and pressing.

At times tender as spring rain, soothing every inch.

At others forceful as a blacksmith’s hammer, each strike deliberate and weighty.

The weapon became metal atop an anvil.

Su Ying’s hands were the deftest of hammers, her every breath stoking the forge’s flames, intensifying the scorching heat.

The "meteor iron" was tempered again and again.

"Clang... clink..."

As everyone knows, forging is exhausting work.

Beads of sweat dotted Su Ying’s forehead, her cheeks flushed, yet her focus remained unbroken.

Forging is like this—you’ve got to keep the furnace blazing.

"Not enough..." she murmured, dissatisfaction lacing her voice.

"Now for the critical quenching... but my stamina’s..."

"Running low?"

"Who said that? I’ve got plenty!"

As if to prove her point, she braced her feet against the glowing-hot divine metal.

"Sizzle—"

Invisible steam seemed to rise.

Even just watching, Su Qi felt his entire body tense.

An indescribable current shot from his head to his toes.

It was as if he, too, had become red-hot metal plunged into icy water.

The extreme contrast didn’t bring pain—instead, an inexplicable sense of refinement.

Su Qi had to admit: she was a master craftswoman, meticulously controlling the heat and force, guiding the newborn energy to circulate and settle.

The process was painstakingly slow.

Every "strike," every "quench," brimmed with intangible transformations.

His gun was being reshaped under her hammer, stroke by stroke, its edge regaining a lethal gleam.

Su Ying’s movements gradually slowed.

Her breathing steadied, her eyes glistening with exhaustion—yet more so with triumph.

She fine-tuned every detail of the weapon, ensuring perfection.

"As expected of this master’s work."

"Time to hammer out the impurities!"

Another round of clanging ensued.

This time, Su Ying’s stamina truly wavered.

But a master was a master—even if flaws emerged mid-forging, she compensated swiftly.

"Ugh, why are the impurities so stubborn? Good thing I brought my custom mold."

Normally, metal should be molten before being cast into a mold.

But plans rarely survive reality.

Su Qi noted the mold seemed slightly small, but it would suffice.

Finally, as the last impurity was purged, a basin of cold water splashed over the spear, sealing its form.

A divine weapon, fully reforged.

Su Ying exhaled deeply, her body limp—her earlier fatigue now undeniable.

Her voice came out hoarse: "Your gun... should be razor-sharp now, right?"

Su Qi slowly opened his eyes.

Her hair was soft against him, carrying her unique scent mingled with the faint smokiness of the forge.

"Yeah."

Su Ying let out a satisfied chuckle.

"So... my skills aren’t too shabby, are they?"

She sought praise quietly.

"My sister’s classmate? I’d trust your craftsmanship any day."

...

The silly sister yawned cutely.

After all that, drowsiness weighed on her.

Her breathing evened out, light snores hinting at deep sleep.

Su Qi glanced down at her peaceful face, something tender stirring in his chest.

Perhaps, in her own quirky way, Liu Yuan had given him a fleeting respite.

This pure, clumsy warmth was one of the rare harbors where he could lower all defenses.

Adjusting his hold gently, he let the girl in his arms sink deeper into slumber.