The Young Girl's Chronicles of Demon-Slaying

Chapter 24: The Dream (Part 1)

Song Chenqing had deliberately maximized the video window, so even his three roommates standing far behind him could see the screen and couldn’t help but whisper among themselves. “Wow! She really is pretty cute!” “She’s got the makings of a beauty!” “She looks like she’s only thirteen or fourteen!” “But what’s with that look? Are you nervous because you saw your new older brother?” The three of them were whispering behind him, and since Song Chenqing was so close, he naturally overheard them. In fact, he also sensed that something was off about this girl. At first glance, she looked quite nice—she had a pair of large, lively eyes, long eyelashes, delicate and soft eyebrows, and short hair cut just past her ears, giving her a playful and cute appearance. However, her face was completely expressionless—it was impossible to tell if she was angry, nervous, or just in a bad mood; she simply had a blank look on her face. Song Chenqing cleared his throat, said hello into the mic, and waited for a response. But he soon realized the other person seemed flustered; it took them ages to finally send a message saying the mic was broken. This unexpected turn of events left Song Chenqing at a loss for words. He felt doomed. Even though his mom’s fingers were so nimble when she played the piano that they left afterimages, the moment she sat down at the computer to type, she resorted to the “one-finger method”—her speed was excruciatingly slow. When confronted, she’d argue her case, complaining that the keyboard keys were too small—not as big as piano keys. As for his dad, he was no help either. Even though he was a highly skilled surgeon with incredibly steady hands, he claimed that typing for long periods would strain his wrists and affect his surgical skills, so he rarely touched the keyboard—and his typing speed wasn’t much faster than his mom’s. So when it comes to video calls in their family, they usually just talk directly through the mic. If there’s no mic, they simply don’t talk at all. But now the mic is broken—how are they supposed to chat? Are they just going to start a video call, take a look at his new little sister, and then say “good night” and hang up? Just as Song Chenqing was bracing himself to endure his mom’s excruciatingly slow typing speed again, he noticed his step-sister on the video call seem to say something. Then, he saw her hold out both hands, as if placing them on the keyboard in front of her. Is she going to type? That makes sense! Even though this little sister looks like she’s only thirteen or fourteen, what kid these days doesn’t know how to type? He saw “Typing…” in the status bar of the chat window, and in less than a second, a message popped up. He glanced at the message—just three short words: “Hi, big brother.” He quickly replied with three words of his own: “Hi, little sister.” After exchanging greetings, she sent another string of messages, briefly introducing herself—her name and age. Actually, in Song Jianqiu’s view, this text exchange was crucial and came at just the right time; otherwise, she really wouldn’t have known how to broach the subject of calling someone “big brother” when faced with someone several years younger than herself. Now, by communicating through text, she didn’t have to say it out loud, which spared her the awkwardness of speaking and made her feel more at ease. Once Song Jianqiu had introduced herself, she was largely out of the picture. For the most part, it was Lin Yuqin and Song Wencheng chatting with the other person, while she sat at the computer, acting as a human typewriter, responsible for typing out their replies. Although they were hundreds of kilometers apart, the siblings’ first meeting still took place via video chat. Through the camera, Song Chenqing and Song Jianqiu both took a good look at each other, getting to know each other’s faces. Regardless of how their future interactions might unfold, they’d at least made a good first impression on each other—or so Song Chenqing believed. The video call was intended solely to introduce his son to his new daughter; there was no other purpose. So, after chatting casually for a while, they ended the call, citing the late hour. After saying their goodbyes, the video window disappeared. Sitting in front of the computer, Song Chenqing let out a long breath. Things were looking pretty good so far; at least at first glance, his step-sister seemed quite cute—a real beauty in the making. In a world that values looks above all else, being pretty and cute clearly goes a long way. When a beautiful person acts up and a plain person does the same, the nature of the behavior may be identical, but the terms used to describe it are completely different. The former is called “acting cute,” while the latter is simply “throwing a tantrum.” Even when this “step-sister” of his acted a little stubborn or unreasonable, it still fell into the category of “acting cute.” Just as Song Chenqing was lost in these thoughts, a hand suddenly slammed down hard on his shoulder from behind, and a voice said, “Not bad, Song Chenqing! Now you’ve got a pretty little sister! And a pretty girlfriend too! It’s practically like living in paradise!” Before Song Chenqing could say a word, his other two roommates rushed over to congratulate him, beaming with joy as if they were the ones getting married or having a baby, leaving him feeling utterly exasperated. He’d only seen her briefly so far. She was cute, sure, but if her personality wasn’t up to par, that would take a big hit off her score. Right now, he just hoped this younger sister wouldn’t be too rowdy. Leaving aside Song Chenqing’s antics with his three roommates for a moment, let’s turn to Song Jianqiu. After ending the video call, she left Song Wencheng and Lin Yuqin’s room. Seeing that it was already late, she went back to her own room to find some clothes. After washing up, just as she was about to head back, Lin Yuqin suddenly called out to her. “Hengheng, have you seen that sutra?” Lin Yuqin had just finished her shower as well—though since Song Jianqiu had showered upstairs, she’d gone downstairs to shower. Now, wearing her pajamas, she walked over, rubbing her hair as she asked, “You mean the *Diamond Sutra* that a student gave me at school yesterday?” “I have it.” Song Jianqiu was a bit puzzled—hadn’t Lin Yuqin shown no interest in it before? Why had she suddenly remembered the sutra now? “Do you want to read it, Mom?” The term “Mom” was truly hard to bring herself to say at first, but after calling her that a few times, she’d gotten used to it. Now Song Jianqiu seemed to have grown quite accustomed to using it. While Song Jianqiu was puzzled as to why Lin Yuqin had suddenly thought of the sutra, Lin Yuqin was even more puzzled as to how it had ended up with Song Jianqiu. She couldn’t help but ask in surprise, “Have you been reading that sutra?” “Mm-hmm.” Song Jianqiu nodded slightly. “Can you understand it?” Lin Yuqin asked, even more surprised. “A little,” she replied modestly, too embarrassed to admit that she’d only been reading it for one night but had already grasped quite a bit. Upon hearing this, Lin Yuqin looked pensive and said, “Since you enjoy reading it, go ahead and read it! I was just asking where the scripture was—after all, it was a gift from a student. If it went missing right after being delivered, it would seem a bit unfair to the giver.” “Mm-hmm!” Song Jianqiu nodded, said goodnight to Lin Yuqin, and turned to go back to her room. After watching her daughter return to her room and close the door, Lin Yuqin rubbed her hair and went back to her own room. As she did so, she said, “Old Song, shouldn’t we start thinking about Hengheng’s schooling now?” “This early? We haven’t even gotten the adoption certificate yet!” Song Wencheng, who was sitting at the computer browsing the web, replied without turning his head. “Better safe than sorry!” Lin Yuqin said. “We might as well get it sorted out now so we don’t have to worry about it later.” “Hmm, that’s a good idea… Hengheng is thirteen now, right? Almost fourteen—just the right age for ninth grade… Nan’an Affiliated High School is right nearby. If you pull some strings and use my older sister’s position at the school, he should be able to get in there.” The “older sister” Song Wencheng was referring to was Song Wenhui, Song Jianqiu’s eldest aunt. The Song family was large, with seven siblings. Song Wencheng was the fourth child—he had two older brothers and one older sister, and one younger brother and two younger sisters. Among them, Song Wenhui was the third child and served as the Director of the Teaching and Research Office at Nan’an Affiliated High School. With this connection, combined with the fact that Lin Yuqin was a teacher at Nan’an Conservatory of Music, as long as Song Jianqiu could pass the entrance exam, getting into Nan’an Affiliated High School shouldn’t be much of a problem. Lin Yuqin had no objections to this decision, but she simply remarked, “The key is that we don’t know how Hengheng has performed academically in the past; we’ll probably need to have him take a test first.” “You could try to get your hands on a few past exams to take a look,” Song Wencheng said. “Is that really necessary?” Lin Yuqin asked. “While grades aren’t everything, test scores do provide a basis for evaluation,” Song Wencheng said. “You’re right!” Lin Yuqin nodded. With that, the matter of Song Jianqiu’s schooling was settled. Meanwhile, in the room diagonally across from them, Song Jianqiu had no idea that Lin Yuqin and Song Wencheng had already decided to test her. After returning to her room, she played on her phone in bed for a while. When the night grew late and all was quiet, she took out her copy of the *Diamond Sutra*, sat cross-legged on the bed, and began to recite it. An ethereal voice echoed through the room, and gradually, the harmonious chanting of numerous monks began to blend in. The sound penetrated the walls and soundproofing, spreading outward to envelop the entire villa. It brought smiles to the faces of Song Wencheng and Lin Yuqin, who were already fast asleep, as if they were having a beautiful dream. Meanwhile, the osmanthus tree in the corner of the front yard swayed its branches without a breeze, as if savoring something. The chanting continued until late into the night before finally coming to a halt. As the chanting faded, the osmanthus tree ceased its swaying, but the sweet dreams of Song Wencheng and Lin Yuqin continued unabated; they remained fast asleep. Song Jianqiu put away the sutras and fell asleep as well. In a hazy daze, Song Jianqiu found herself standing in a garden. She looked around and saw that the garden was shrouded in a misty, ethereal aura. White jade-like balustrades enclosed flower beds filled with all manner of rare flowers, exotic plants, ancient pines, and celestial trees. She could see butterflies shimmering with golden light resting on the blossoms, and beautiful birds perched on the branches, chirping ceaselessly—yet she could not hear a single sound. “Where is this?” She tried to speak, but found that the words she uttered produced no sound, so she gave up and set off along the path paved with jade-green pebbles that wound through the garden. In such an unfamiliar place, she didn’t know where she was going, yet somehow, deep down, she seemed to know where she was meant to go. As she walked, she took in the scenery around her. Although this was an unfamiliar place and her current situation was strange, she felt no fear or anxiety whatsoever; on the contrary, she was remarkably calm, as if this were a place she knew very well. (End of Chapter)