Chen Qiao sat punctually in front of the second-floor TV at noon, perched on the old three-seater sofa in the living room.
The couch sagged noticeably under his weight.
The backrest was covered with a white lace dust cover, and the seat was draped with a bedsheet.
If lifted, the sheet would reveal worn-out leather, faded and cracked in several places, exposing yellowed foam padding—a testament to years of use, almost polished smooth by time.
The household used a satellite dish, allowing them to pick up channels from other provinces.
Chen Qiao was tuning into the children’s channel from a neighboring province for “Dongxi Anime Club”—the only TV-supported anime magazine in the country that interacted with its audience.
The show mainly promoted Japanese anime and the latest news, with weekend editions featuring Western 3D animated films.
Through this program, Chen Qiao had seen clips of “Naruto”, “Bleach”, and “One Piece”, along with recommendations for new seasonal anime.
For many, it was their gateway into the world of anime.
The affiliated magazine even serialized “Naruto” in print, with deluxe editions including bonus DVDs.
Later, due to copyright complaints over unauthorized clips, the show shifted to covering domestic animations.
Eventually, “Dongxi Anime Club” disbanded when its founder, Ge Kongming, planned to move abroad but couldn’t find a successor.
Starting the following year, regulations on comic magazines tightened.
Whether it was original-focused publications like “Man You” and “Man Ke” or those importing foreign works like “Comic Crystal” and “Moe Art”, all faced restrictions.
Some shut down due to licensed imports (like “Naruto”), while others folded because of “questionable content.”
The golden age of original comic magazines was short-lived, as print media soon declined in the rapidly changing times.
Chen Feifei, after helping their mother feed the chickens and ducks, came upstairs with her cross-stitch and sat beside Chen Qiao.
Seeing her little brother still so engrossed in cartoons reassured her.
The studious version of him felt unfamiliar—though their parents and teachers constantly praised her while belittling him, she never thought he was much dumber.
He was just a bit too playful.
She didn’t see anything wrong with that.
“One hardworking student in the family is enough—let him enjoy his childhood.”
As long as his grades didn’t drop drastically from neglect or he didn’t start dating (that was crucial), she was fine with it.
“Kids these days are way too mature. Back in my day, we didn’t even think about that stuff.”
But their parents, teachers, and even relatives expected Chen Qiao to match her excellence, piling invisible pressure on him.
Chen Feifei felt guilty, even fearing he might resent her for it.
Yet, deliberately failing wasn’t an option—she didn’t know how to do anything “but” study.
Yawning, her eyelids drooped.
She didn’t usually nap, but waking up early, a full stomach, and the uninteresting TV show amplified her drowsiness.
Chen Qiao wasn’t really watching either.
Instead, he wondered if his otaku knowledge could land him a gig writing for anime magazines.
“Opportunities are everywhere.”
Suddenly, Chen Feifei’s head slumped onto his shoulder, her weight too much for his small frame.
He guided her down, placing her head on his lap while tossing her cross-stitch onto the wooden coffee table.
Playfully, he stroked her smooth cheeks and fiddled with her bangs.
Though classes officially started at 2:10 PM, the middle school had a mandatory “noon study session” from 1:00 PM—a policy introduced the previous year, much to the students’ dismay.
Meanwhile, elementary students had to arrive early to copy math assignments from the blackboard before afternoon classes.
Sixth graders often came in early, as both front (Chinese) and back (math) blackboards were filled with homework.
Seeing the time, Chen Qiao knew he should wake his sister for school.
Before he could speak, Chen Feifei jolted awake.
“Did I fall asleep?”
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
She wiped her mouth—thankfully, no drool—but napping on her little brother’s lap felt embarrassing.
“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”
Chen Qiao had slept in her arms and on her back countless times.
“You needed the rest. You’ll be more alert in class.”
Though logical, her pride wouldn’t admit it.
“Aren’t you tired?” she pressed.
“Not yet. I’ll crash at school—sleeping there hits different.”
Standing, he rubbed his numb legs.
“School isn’t for sleeping!”
Chen Feifei yanked him back, forcing his head onto her lap.
At this age, he was no match for her.
“But won’t you be late?”
On days without Chinese homework, Chen Qiao stayed home until 1:30 PM to finish the show.
“It’s fine. I’ve already done all my noon reading assignments.”
Is she finally flexing her top-student privileges?
But corrupting her wasn’t part of his plan—he just wanted her to enjoy life.
Since resistance was futile, he leaned in, nuzzling her stomach and inhaling her scent.
Gotta cherish these moments—won’t get to act spoiled like this when I’m older.
He hadn’t planned to sleep, but her comforting aura lulled him under.
Whether it was her “big sister aura” or just a natural weakness to her, even this younger version of her had him powerless.
Seeing Chen Qiao finally asleep, Chen Feifei smiled contentedly.
She ran her fingers through his short hair playfully, then picked up the remote from the armrest and turned down the volume—though she didn’t change the channel.
There weren’t many TV dramas airing at noon, and Chen Feifei disliked watching episodes sporadically.
Getting hooked on a cliffhanger only to wait until the next day was agonizing.
Worse yet, if she missed an episode due to unforeseen circumstances, the disjointed storyline left her frustrated.
That’s why she preferred DVDs.
On weekends, she could binge-watch entire series in one go without disrupting her studies or chores.
Just last week, she and Chen Qiao had argued over the TV.
He insisted his anime couldn’t wait—missing an episode meant losing it forever—while she was stuck at a critical plot point.
Normally, she’d compromise after negotiating, but that time, she’d dug in.
I really didn’t act like an older sister should , she reflected guiltily.
Spotting her cross-stitch on the coffee table, she considered resuming her work.
But it was too far to reach without stretching, and any sudden movement might wake her brother.
She gave up with a sigh.
Instead, she turned her attention to the TV, trying to understand his interests.
Robots, ninjas… it was all lost on her.
If only she knew Chen Qiao’s current obsession was actually cute anime girls—they might’ve had a lot more to talk about.
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.