Crush's Cold Senior Sister is Actually Childhood Sweetheart - Chapter 20

Chapter 20: It’s Best to Never See the Light.

It’s best if it never sees the light of day.

At the same time, An Jin was with Liao Huan, playing a game of “little tadpoles looking for their mom.”

The story began when An Jin, upon returning from the Void of Wu Xu, suddenly remembered that Liao Huan had told her during the Grand Selection that her mother was a celestial envoy from the Upper Realm. She had been abandoned by an immortal after becoming pregnant.

“Have you found that immortal yet?” An Jin asked eagerly. “If you want to go get some justice, I can go with you. It’ll be two against one!”

She looked very spirited.

But Liao Huan stammered, unable to speak for a while. Finally, under An Jin’s enthusiastic gaze, she had to admit that she had been deliberately trying to get sympathy at the time.

“…Although my mom didn’t tell me the specific reason, according to her, she and her ex-wife broke up because of ideological differences. There was no dramatic story.”

“Ex-…ex-wife?!”

An Jin’s eyes widened again, filled with pure confusion. “Can same-s3x people have children?”

“…One of them is a fox and the other is a carp, and they’re from different species. That didn’t stop me from being born,” Liao Huan said, a little speechless.

After spending some time with An Jin, she realized that An Jin truly had no common knowledge of the Upper Realm.

An Jin thought for a long time and decided that what she said made a lot of sense. Then she asked, “Do you still want to see her?”

In her opinion, regardless of the reason for abandoning a child—whether it was voluntary or out of necessity—the parental relationship had been severed.

It wasn’t necessarily anyone’s fault; perhaps there was just no connection. But in any case, there was no need to stay in touch.

But just because she thought that way didn’t mean everyone did.

Sure enough, Liao Huan was silent for a moment before saying, “I don’t know.”

“I know she probably doesn’t want to see me. If she did, she would have contacted me by now. But I still… I still can’t help but be a little curious.”

“I want to know what the other mother, whom I’ve been thinking about since I was a child, looks like. I want to know what happened between her and my mom back then. I want to know why she didn’t want me…” Liao Huan suddenly stopped. “Wait, what are you doing?”

An Jin had, at some point, pulled out a pen and paper and was buried in a pile of notes. When Liao Huan asked, An Jin continued writing without looking up. “I’m helping you find her!”

She slowly began her analysis for Liao Huan. “Look, first of all, we know that this immortal is female, so we can rule out all male gods and immortals in the Upper Realm…”

“Great,” Liao Huan said, applauding her enthusiastically. “Out of a total of over five thousand gods and immortals, we’ve narrowed the scope down to four thousand nine hundred!”

“…”

This was the first time An Jin, who was known for making others speechless, had been on the receiving end of it. She couldn’t even tell if the other person was being sincere or sarcastic.

“How about we do this,” An Jin said, scratching her head, unable to come up with a solution. Finally, she tossed the pen and paper aside, a very carefree gesture. “I’ll go ask if there have been any fox clan immortals in the last hundred years who were in a relationship with a carp.”

“…Who are you going to ask?” Liao Huan suddenly had a bad feeling.

“Senior Sister Ling!” An Jin had already turned and was rushing out the door. She didn’t look back, her footsteps light, looking very impatient. “She’s been in the Upper Realm for so long, she must know more than us!”

“?!”

Liao Huan’s pupils contracted.

She wouldn’t dare ask Senior Sister Ling for help finding someone. She quickly chased after her. “Wait! We shouldn’t bother—”

But An Jin’s figure had already disappeared around the corner, leaving Liao Huan standing there dumbfounded.

“Senior Sister Ling…” Liao Huan’s voice trailed off as she swallowed the last half of her sentence.

…

Ling Qi’s palace was not far from the main hall. Separated by a few trees and corridors, it was a small, one-story building.

Compared to the outer disciples who were only given a side hall in someone else’s palace, being able to live in a separate house in Chongguang Palace was already a very good privilege.

Although most inner disciples lived in multi-story villas, and the divine Chongguang had even transformed her palace into a miniature version of the Forbidden City.

Chongguang Palace was vast, and the god’s palace alone took up half the space. It not only imitated the three main halls and the three back palaces, but also had a specially built miniature imperial garden.

An Jin had been lucky enough to enter it once and had seen Yang Anping flying a kite in the garden. In that moment, she felt as if the scene was a period drama in real life—

The divine Chongguang was sitting on a dragon throne playing the emperor, and Yang Anping was playing a certain spoiled and willful princess.

Just as An Jin arrived at the entrance of Ling Qi’s palace, she heard the emperor’s voice from inside:

“I have warned you many times not to mention anything in front of Ping’er—”

“Master, if you were so afraid of her finding out something, you shouldn’t have let her enter the Void of Wu Xu with me in the first place.” Ling Qi’s voice came from inside the palace, cold and emotionless.

But the divine Chongguang seemed to be completely enraged by her attitude. There was a sudden “bang” from inside the hall, like a porcelain vase being smashed to the ground.

An Jin’s shoulders trembled at the sudden sound, and the hand she had just raised to knock on the door froze in mid-air.

Inside, Ling Qi’s voice became tinged with impatience. “What she saw in the illusion has nothing to do with me? I also made it very clear to her in the Void of Wu Xu that I have never had any interest in anything she possesses.”

“You know Ping’er is short-tempered, and you deliberately say things like that to provoke her?!”

The divine Chongguang’s voice suddenly rose, filled with fury. “What if she finds out that you’re my biological daughter, then how will she—”

“Divine Chongguang, Divine Chongguang.” Ling Qi’s tone returned to its previous indifference. “I also have my own family. And like you, I hope this matter rots inside us completely, and that no one else ever finds out.”

Standing outside the hall, An Jin, the “someone else,” felt the bl00d in her body congeal. A layer of cold sweat instantly broke out on her back.

She felt a chill all over, as if she had walked into an ice cellar, and the cold was biting.

She knew she should leave immediately. Her senior sister probably wouldn’t want her to know this. But for some reason, her feet seemed to be rooted to the spot, and she couldn’t move.

There was a sudden noise at the door. An Jin subconsciously took two steps back. By the time she realized what she was doing, she was already hiding in the shadows of the outdoor corridor column.

The hall door was suddenly pushed open, and someone walked out, their footsteps hurried and heavy. It sounded like they were extremely angry. An Jin bit her lower lip tightly, lightened her breathing, and secretly prayed not to be discovered.

She could only hear her heart pounding like a drum in her ears. Her mind was blank, unable to process anything.

After the divine Chongguang’s footsteps finally faded away, An Jin just let out a sigh of relief when she suddenly felt a chill down her spine.

She turned her head and saw Ling Qi leaning against the door, looking at her. The other’s gaze was meaningful, and a faint smile hung on the corner of her lips. She had clearly been waiting for a long time.

It was like a predator admiring a prey that was about to become its meal.

If Ling Qi knew what An Jin was thinking at that moment, she would probably feel a little wronged.

She just thought that the little person hiding under the corridor column, trying to blend in with it, looked really cute.

But An Jin couldn’t guess her senior sister’s thoughts at all. Her mind was filled with thoughts of being silenced, and she was so scared that she took several steps back, then her foot missed a step.

Just as she was about to fall down the stairs in front of the hall, An Jin suddenly felt a tightening around her waist. Her senior sister had appeared in front of her at some point and held her steadily in her arms.

Ling Qi’s expression was helpless. “Don’t run around.”

Her original intention was to remind the other person to watch her step, but An Jin interpreted it as a warning for her eavesdropping. She obediently said “oh,” but still stayed in her original position, looking up at Ling Qi.

Ling Qi had always been unable to handle An Jin staring at her.

Feeling her ears get a little warm, she turned her head, looked around, and suddenly said, “Do you want to drink?”

“Huh?!”

Isn’t this a bit of a topic jump?

An Jin was stunned for two seconds before she found her voice. “I… I guess so…”

She was a little hesitant. “But should we just… go like this?” An Jin looked down at the hands that were still wrapped around her waist. The places where she was being touched felt faintly warm.

Although it seemed nice too.

It wasn’t until she heard this that Ling Qi seemed to wake up and realize they were still in this intimate posture. She let go as if she had been electrocuted, and a light cough to cover it up, she said, “Alright, let’s go.”

…

An Jin was taken to the pavilion outside the palace. It wasn’t until she sat down on the stone stool and her hand touched the cold tabletop that she came back to her senses a little.

There was a wine pot on the stone table, with a few cups next to it. Ling Qi poured her a cup of wine. “You should try it. A friend of mine once brewed it. This wine is called ‘Fishing Song.'”

The wine had a light and gentle floral and fruity scent, with a mellow and fragrant aftertaste.

An Jin narrowed her eyes slightly, deep in thought. “Is it because this wine… holds a kind of unrestrained and carefree spirit? Like a fisherman on the river, drifting with the current, free and easy.”

“No,” Ling Qi shook her head, a smile on her lips. “It’s because when she was brewing the wine, she saw someone fishing nearby.”

An Jin was slightly taken aback, then chuckled softly.

What a simple and unadorned reason.

They sat opposite each other like this, drinking cup after cup for a long time.

One person didn’t speak, and the other didn’t ask. It was as if the two of them had simply run into each other, happened to have some free time, and found a place to sit down and have a drink together.

It wasn’t until her gaze started to unfocus and her movements for pouring the wine gradually slowed down that Ling Qi finally spoke:

“Yang Chongguang… is indeed my biological mother.”

“When I was young, I was abandoned in the mortal realm. I grew up alone in an orphanage until I was eleven, and then I went to the Upper Realm with the divine Fuling.”

This time, she no longer called her “master,” or “mother,” or even “divine.”

In just a few dozen words, she had glossed over all her past experiences.

“Later, because of some things, I left Jiu Yang Palace again and became a disciple of Yang Chongguang.”

Whether it was the alcohol getting to her head or because it had been too long since she had spoken like this with the person in front of her, Ling Qi felt her mind was a mess. All her thoughts were jumbled together, and she wished she could just pour them all out at once.

“At that time, Yang Chongguang thought that I had come to her because I knew some inside story… but I didn’t even recognize her face back then. But at least on one point, we can always agree—”

“We both think this matter should be buried in the ground. It’s best if it never sees the light of day.”