The Beautiful Older Sister I Picked Up Is Good at Flirting - Chapter 13
Chapter 13
The heat in the room suddenly surged severalfold. Fan Zhen gently unzipped the costume, careful not to let the needle prick Fu Siyi. She used her fingers as a shield, slipping them into the torn fabric at Fu Siyi’s waist. Her fingertips brushed across the Alpha’s delicate skin, igniting a wave of tingling numbness.
Fu Siyi’s heartbeat spiraled out of control. As Fan Zhen sewed, her pale fingers brushed back and forth over Fu Siyi’s most sensitive spot, leaving a trail of electric touches.
This Alpha—who always maintained a cold and proud demeanor—now showed a rare, awkward panic. Her fingers curled tightly without control.
Afraid that Fan Zhen would notice something unusual, Fu Siyi hurriedly looked around, trying to find a topic:
“You… you were gone for quite a while just now?”
Fan Zhen smiled without answering, continuing her work.
Fu Siyi, being ignored, felt confused. “Fan Zhen, why aren’t you talking?”
Fan Zhen softly hushed her and lowered her voice:
“Young Miss, one shouldn’t talk while sewing.”
“Why not?” Fu Siyi asked, puzzled.
Fan Zhen looked up, her eyes meeting Fu Siyi’s confused gaze, and gave a small smile:
“Our elders in Yuan Country say, if you talk while sewing, you’ll end up marrying a fierce wife.”
Fu Siyi burst out laughing like she’d just heard a ridiculous joke, her white teeth showing:
“I suddenly realize… you and Nanny Ying share the same lineage when it comes to superstition. Don’t worry, if I ever have a wife, I’d be happy to be managed by her every day.
But… I don’t think such a person exists.”
The room was heated by central heating, and the crystal chandelier’s light flickered softly. The atmosphere subtly shifted with the change in topic.
Feeling a bit uncomfortable, Fu Siyi shifted her gaze and casually changed the subject:
“Did you go get the sewing kit just now?”
Her eyes landed on Fan Zhen’s hands. “I didn’t expect… you still kept that sewing kit.”
Fan Zhen lowered her eyes, threading the needle. Her long lashes fluttered like butterfly wings.
“It was the first ‘Christmas gift’ I ever received. Of course I kept it.”
Fu Siyi’s eyes followed her fingers:
“Kept it so well… no wonder you took so long.”
Fan Zhen didn’t catch her deeper meaning and gave a somewhat awkward smile:
“Fu Manor is really big. From the servant quarters to the main study—it takes about seven or eight minutes round trip.”
Worried she’d seem unreliable, Fan Zhen added weakly:
“I ran all the way.”
Fu Siyi’s eyes flashed with a hint of surprise:
“Does it really take that long to get from the servant quarters to the main building? Last time you were sick, I went there and didn’t feel it was far.”
Fan Zhen looked up, the curve of her brows slightly drooping:
“You only go once in a while, you don’t feel it. We go back and forth many times a day.”
Fu Siyi stared at her innocent expression and blurted out without thinking:
“Move into the main house. Pick a guest room on the first floor.”
“This… this won’t do!” Fan Zhen looked flustered. Her fingers trembled and almost pricked herself:
“Even Nanny Ying lives in the annex. How can I live in the main house? That’s against the rules.”
Fu Siyi realized she’d spoken too abruptly. In business, she was always composed and thoughtful. Rarely did she speak without thinking.
So when Fan Zhen nervously declined, Fu Siyi didn’t push. She simply sat quietly, her eyes continuing to follow Fan Zhen’s sewing movements.
Fan Zhen tied off the last stitch with practiced skill. When she reached for the scissors, she realized she’d forgotten where she placed them. Tugging hard, the thread wouldn’t break.
Almost instinctively, she leaned down and bit the thread off with her teeth.
The seam was beneath Fu Siyi’s arm. When Fan Zhen bit the thread, her lips inevitably brushed against Fu Siyi’s waist.
Even though there was fabric in between, that fleeting contact sent a powerful jolt through Fu Siyi’s body.
Her eyes widened, her back stiffened. The scent of Fan Zhen’s hair filled her senses, brushing past her cheek, doubling the stimulation and making her breath hitch.
Fan Zhen looked up after biting the thread, and saw Fu Siyi’s flushed face. She quickly pulled away, concern in her voice:
“Young Miss, you should take off the costume. You’re sweating—you might catch a cold.”
Fu Siyi inhaled deeply, finally regaining control of her body. But her face remained red:
“I… I’ll change later…”
She was flustered, her eyes darting around before landing on the desk:
“Fan Zhen, I saw you holding a paper earlier. What was that?”
Only then did Fan Zhen remember the actual task. She picked up the menu from the desk and handed it to Fu Siyi:
“Young Miss, this is the dinner menu. Nanny Ying said you should take a look—see if anything needs changing.”
Fu Siyi scanned it quickly, brows lightly furrowed:
“Same dishes every year. No creativity at all.”
Fan Zhen tilted her head thoughtfully:
“Then… how about we add sweet glutinous rice balls?”
“Sweet rice balls?” Fu Siyi blinked, intrigued. “What are those?”
Fan Zhen smiled gently:
“Sweet rice balls are a dessert from Yuan Country. They’re round and filled with all kinds of sweet fillings. Eating them symbolizes reunion and sweetness.”
“In our country, we eat them on special days for good luck.”
Fu Siyi’s eyes lit up:
“Sounds great. Let’s add that—thanks for the suggestion.”
Her voice was soft and mellow when she said “thank you,” carrying a graceful, almost voice-actor-like tone, like raindrops falling on banana leaves, leaving ripples in Fan Zhen’s heart.
Fan Zhen’s cheeks flushed with warmth. She stammered “I’ll go prepare it” and practically ran out. She only stopped to catch her breath when she reached the covered walkway.
Something’s off.
Fu Siyi hadn’t released any pheromones, yet why was her heart racing and breath shallow?
Keep a safe distance, Fan Zhen silently reminded herself. She had to maintain boundaries.
…
Fu Manor’s kitchen was like a hotel workspace, split into a large hot kitchen and a small cold kitchen.
Fan Zhen politely asked Head Chef Huang to borrow the kitchen. Curious about the “rice balls” she mentioned, he cleared out the space without hesitation.
She soaked Yuan Country’s long-grain glutinous rice in water. The kitchen had a traditional stone mill and plenty of help. In no time, the rice flour was ready.
The filling was key—she crushed toasted sesame seeds into powder, added sugar and lard, kneading it until smooth and fragrant.
Wealthy daughters were often said to never touch housework, but in Yuan Country’s elite circles, children were rigorously trained. Fan Zhen had attended the most prestigious girls’ school, learning not only academics, languages, business, music, and art—but also flower arrangement, tea ceremony, cooking, and horseback riding.
Cooking was second nature. She quickly prepared sweet and savory fillings.
She was just about to roll the dough into little balls when Nanny Ying’s cheerful voice rang out:
“I could smell sesame from afar… heard you’re making a hometown treat, Zhenzhen. Let me see what goodies you’ve got.”
She walked in, looking around, and clicked her tongue in admiration:
“Our Zhenzhen really knows how to do everything. Whoever marries you in the future is truly blessed.”
Fan Zhen blushed:
“Nanny, don’t tease me. Who… who would marry a Beta?”
Nanny Ying just smiled and didn’t argue. She washed her hands and helped shape the dough balls.
Once the tangyuan were ready, Fan Zhen covered them with a clean damp towel and handed the kitchen back to Chef Huang to prepare dinner.
Everything was ready, but by 7 p.m., Fu Weirong’s car still hadn’t arrived.
The staff waited in the cold for over an hour. Whispered complaints started to spread:
“Do you think the Madam isn’t coming?”
“How could she not? It’s her birthday. The Young Miss planned this for days…”
“Why not? She hasn’t come back all year. And if she really cared about the Young Miss, she wouldn’t have let go of the Creek Bay project. Miss Fu worked so hard to win that land, but the Madam gave it up just for political gain…”
“It’s a shame. Miss Fu fights so hard for the Fu Corporation, and now Madam Fu treats her like a stranger…”
The murmurs grew louder, eventually reaching Nanny Ying’s ears. She turned sharply, glaring:
“Who said you could gossip about your masters?”
Everyone fell silent. Though she appeared calm, Nanny Ying’s heart was heavy. It was nearly 8 p.m. Fu Weirong probably wouldn’t come.
She had long known Fu Weirong, busy with politics, rarely returned home. But she worried for Fu Siyi.
The girl had been in boarding school most of her life, rarely seeing her mother. And yet, Fu Siyi held no resentment. Even when told to abandon her hard-won project for her mother’s election campaign, she still chose understanding.
She’d visited famous old artists during a snowstorm to help her mother gain support.
Nanny Ying thought bitterly—Fu Weirong’s heart must be made of stone.
Only a stone could repeatedly let down such a good daughter.
At the study door, Nanny Ying saw Fu Siyi sitting silently by the window, expression unreadable, sorrow quietly spilling from her like moonlight.
Her hand hovered over the door but curled into a fist.
Fu Siyi turned at the knock, her face falling again when she saw who it was. She looked like a bird soaked in rain, flapping helplessly before falling.
Nanny Ying hesitated, then asked gently:
“Miss, it’s getting late. Why don’t you eat something while waiting?”
Fu Siyi kept her head down:
“No need. Everyone must be hungry. Tell them to start.”
“Alright.” Nanny Ying paused, then asked:
“Will you eat in the dining room, or…?”
Fu Siyi glanced at her, realized her mood had affected others, and forced herself to lighten up. She walked to her desk, flipping through documents:
“You all eat. I have work to finish.”
Nanny Ying sighed and went downstairs. Dinner was tasteless; most barely ate.
Later, she returned with a bowl of sweet rice balls—and someone following behind.
“Zhenzhen, Miss Fu hasn’t eaten all day. Bring this to her.”
Fan Zhen was worried but hesitated, recalling Fu Siyi’s cold demeanor:
“She’s upset… she might not want to eat…”
“Go cheer her up,” Nanny Ying said with an odd smile. “Our Miss is easy to cheer up.”
Cheer up?
Fan Zhen’s cheeks flushed:
“I’ve never done that before… What if I fail…?”
Nanny Ying smiled even more:
“Don’t worry. First time is hard, second time’s easier. You’ll get the hang of it.”
Fan Zhen: ???
There’s a next time?
Nanny Ying grinned like a saleswoman:
“TV dramas say, cheering someone up is easy—all you need is a hug.”
A hug?
And it’s “easy”?
Fan Zhen’s face was now completely red.