It was late at night.
Wearing a very polite smile, I gently but firmly pushed Su Liumeng out of my room and shut the door with a not-too-soft, not-too-hard thud.
Click—
In the dimly lit living room, Su Liumeng’s gaze landed on a booklet on the coffee table. She slowly walked over, and when she saw the beautifully illustrated cover, a rare flicker of emotion crossed the usually composed young lady’s face.
“A Hundred Essential Cooking Skills Every Girl Should Learn”?
*****
Back in the bedroom, I had just finished showering. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I tilted my head as I blow-dried my hair.
The whooshing sound of the dryer sent waves of heat down my neck. Instinctively, I slipped my hand under my shirt—my freshly cleaned skin already felt like it was starting to sweat again.
I frowned and turned on the air conditioner, setting it to twenty-six degrees.
Twenty minutes later, I ran a hand through the ends of my hair—still slightly damp.
My arm ached from all the drying. After giving my hair a rough comb-through, I crawled back into bed.
“Mommy—”
A soft, ghostly voice drifted through the night—eerily clear in the silence.
“I think someone needs to teach you how to be a proper girl.”
My face darkened instantly. The way she said that… like I was some kind of failure.
Like I didn’t have any pride at all.
“Baby, you’re awake?” I pretended to be busy, fussing with the already neat bed sheets like they needed serious adjusting.
The ghost baby ignored my awkward act and launched straight into critique mode. “Who blow-dries their hair like that?” She was determined to break me of all my bad habits.
“Haven’t you noticed? When you wait until your hair’s completely dry before brushing it, it gets all tangled?”
“Also, you’re pregnant with me right now. If your hair’s still a little damp and you lie down like that, you’ll catch a cold and get a headache.”
“And once you get sick, you can’t take any strong medicine. You’ll just have to suffer through it. Then you’ll know how miserable it is.”
She sounded strangely exhausted.
What kind of baby has to coach their own mom through pregnancy?
“Is it really that complicated?” I casually grabbed a book from the nightstand and opened it in front of me, pretending to read with great interest.
“Complete Guide to Baby Names”
The little puffball sounded even more serious than me, reading the title aloud.
She was successfully distracted from the previous topic.
“Mommy, how many of these ‘complete life guides’ have you actually bought?”
“Not that many, right?” I blinked my big eyes innocently.
But when I glanced over at my bookshelf, it was packed to the brim with all sorts of books: pregnancy diet restrictions, comprehensive nutrition guides, how to maintain your figure during pregnancy… It was overflowing. Enough to make anyone dizzy.
“So… what about my name?” the ghost baby asked, her tone for the first time carrying real doubt.
“You read all these encyclopedias, but have you actually used any of them?”
In the depths of my sea of consciousness, a tiny girl was sprawled face-down on the ground, letting out a wail of despair.
She slowly lifted her head, her little face full of resentment.
All I want is a name. Is that really so hard?
My hands froze around the book. “…I already picked one.”
“It’s just…” My voice grew smaller. “I was afraid it wouldn’t be good enough… so I never said anything.”
The ghost baby fell silent for a moment. “It’s okay. As long as Mommy picked it, I’ll like it.” As long as it wasn’t cruel or insulting, there wasn’t a baby in the world who would truly hate a name given by their mom.
I flipped open the baby name guide. On the very first page were my own scribbled notes. I’d written over a dozen names, crossed some out, circled a few—until only two remained.
Seeing that messy, well-used page, all the ghost baby’s resentment disappeared.
So Mommy had thought hard about it. She’d just kept it to herself.
“A name stays with someone their whole life. Of course I have to be careful.” I looked down at the last two remaining options, and suddenly thought of my own name.
“What about you, Mommy? Was your name carefully chosen by your parents?”
“I…” I had no answer. “Let’s not talk about that.”
“What matters now is that you’re my baby. And your name… it has to be chosen with care.” The sense of responsibility in my heart surged stronger than ever.
That’s exactly why I’ve been hesitating all this time.
“You pick one yourself.” I pointed at the two remaining names with my fingertip.
Unexpectedly, the ghost baby turned her head and refused.
“No, I don’t want to pick it myself. I want Mommy to name me!”
No way! She absolutely refused!
Otherwise, what if someone asked her in the future, “Who gave you your name?”
She wouldn’t be able to puff up her chest and confidently say, “My mommy did.”
Just today, while passing by the kindergarten, she overheard some kids chatting like that. If she chose her own name, wouldn’t that mean she named herself? She didn’t want that at all!
My expression stiffened a little. I couldn’t quite figure out why this child was suddenly angry. As with all grown-ups, it’s impossible for us to stay on the same wavelength as a kid’s mind.
That was all I could conclude, and I calmly accepted my role as the adult here.
“Since that’s the case, then let’s go with this name.”
“Your surname will be Si, like mine. Your name will be Tongyu.”
“Your courtesy name will be Zhiruo, and your nickname can be Zhizhi.”
“As for the meaning… it comes from The Book of Songs…”
Originally, I wanted to give her a strong and regal name—something fitting for the future Ghost Empress. But no matter how many dictionaries I flipped through, I couldn’t find any powerful-sounding words with feminine meanings.
So I thought, maybe I should give her a more masculine name. After all, most characters used by kings and generals are taken from celestial constellations or are exclusive terms for the ruling class.
But eventually, I figured—hey, it’s the modern era. Why not just pick a pretty name for a girl? Something like “Qian” or “Xi,” something poetic and elegant, the kind of name that makes you imagine a stunning beauty stepping out of a painting even before you meet her.
That’s right. Even though my little dumpling hasn’t been born yet, I already imagine her as a breathtaking beauty.
After all, she has my genes. There’s no way she’ll be ugly.
What parent doesn’t hope their child will be good-looking?
Just thinking that made my face flush slightly. That unintentional self-praise was a little embarrassing.
“Si Zhiruo?” The little dumpling repeated the name a few times, then clapped in delight.
“Not bad at all! I like it. I even have a courtesy name now. I’m ahead of the other babies, and I’m not even born yet!”
She twirled happily in circles on the ground, too thrilled to put her joy into words.
Hearing her cheerful voice suddenly lifted my own mood too. “Mm, as long as you’re happy.”
“Mommy, do you have a courtesy name too?”
I blinked. “Of course. I used to be the adopted child of the Su family. They’re a prestigious clan with a thousand-year lineage, and a lot of their customs are ancient. Of course I have a courtesy name.”
“My original courtesy name was Zhiyan. That’s why I chose a similar one for you.”
“Zhiyan?” Si Zhiruo repeated. “That doesn’t sound good…”
“I still think Mommy’s current name on her ID sounds better.”
Instinctively, I reached forward and flipped my ID card over on the table.
This little ghost sure had sharp eyes.
“Hey, why are you hiding it?!” The little dumpling huffed and loudly declared her claim, “Mommy is my mommy! Everything Mommy owns belongs to me!”
“They all call you Xinxin, but you won’t even let me see your ID. Is that fair to me?” The more she spoke, the angrier she became—even though she’d already seen my ID before.
It was the principle that bothered her.
She mimicked the way people draw out the name “Xinxin”, waving her little hand dramatically like she’d eaten something greasy. Her chubby, adorable face was full of disgust.
The truth was, I just didn’t like my current name.
I never talked about it before, but since I was adopted by the Su family, my birth parents never intended to give me a boy’s name.
Just like how some kids get names like “Ugly” or “Dumb” because “bad names are easier to raise.”
They gave me a girl’s name, probably for the same reason.
Whether there was more malice behind that… I never dared think too deeply, nor have I ever tried to.
At school, I was mocked constantly for my name.
That’s why I’ve always hated having a feminine-sounding name.
It’s ingrained deep in me—so much that I instinctively hide my ID from others.
“Mm-hmm, everything Mommy owns is yours.” I didn’t explain my actions just now. My tone was helpless, but I still played along with her words—without even realizing how doting I sounded.
I flipped over my ID again. A small, square document—with a photo on the right of a bare-faced girl, flawless and calm.
“Now that’s better.” The little dumpling sat cross-legged in my mindscape, hugging her arms. Her muttering voice, content and soft, sounded like a kitten purring.
I didn’t think she was being unreasonable. Instead, I lay on the bed, resting my chin on my hands, smiling as I listened to her chatter.
Talking with Baby was the thing that made me happiest.
That pure, heartfelt joy—nothing else could replace it.
“Mommy, Mommy, I want ice cream.”
“Uh…” I was caught off guard. “I’ll take you tomorrow.”
Sneaking in one cone shouldn’t get us caught by Su Liumeng… right?
“Mm, never mind.” She curled up, hugging her knees.
That one time—she really shouldn’t have eaten ice cream.
“If I eat it, my tummy might hurt… really hurt,” she mumbled.
Though of course, maybe it wouldn’t.
She didn’t think her mommy was some invincible iron-stomached glutton.
*****
11:35 PM.
I was still listening to her talk when her voice suddenly stopped.
I chuckled softly, still holding the book as I lay on the bed flipping pages.
The cultivation method for yin energy: Step one, sense the ambient yin energy in the world. Step two, understand your own meridian pathways.
I breezed through step one, easily sensing the vast yin energy floating around.
But step two—was tough.
I’d never studied traditional Chinese medicine. I barely knew anything about acupuncture points or meridian flow.
No wonder people say the poor can’t afford to cultivate. Even if you manage to get your hands on a technique, how do you channel inner power correctly without knowing about the eight extraordinary meridians or the precise acupoint locations?
Most techniques have already been optimized to their best versions. One misstep—and you’re courting inner deviation or worse.
So before I truly begin cultivation, I need a crash course in all this theory.
For the first time, I think I understand Su Liumeng a bit.
No wonder she said she picked up some TCM knowledge. She had no choice—it was forced learning.
Ding-dong—
The clock chimed midnight. Time to stop staying up.
I stretched lazily, my curves nearly stretching the fabric of my nightgown.
It’s hard to believe that with such a petite frame and an angelic face, I ended up with this kind of figure.
I yawned again, placed the book on the nightstand, pulled up the thin blanket, and drifted into sleep.
Cultivation is a race against time, but not something achieved overnight.
It’s also a journey of the heart. Impatience is your worst enemy.
Unless you want to burn every bridge behind you, cultivation has to be one step at a time.
After all, I’ve been praised as someone with a pure yin body more than once. If I can’t even believe in myself, I might as well have died up on that mountain, left to be eaten by wolves.
No way—I can’t accept being a disappointment.
*****
Time flew by, and soon it was September 30th.
Su Liumeng got up early—only to find me in the kitchen fiddling with utensils. She shrieked in shock, “My little ancestor! What on earth are you doing?! Put that down—right now!”
My hand froze mid-slice, and my expression mirrored my stillness.
I almost cut my finger.
I had gotten up super early just to sneak into the kitchen, and she still caught me.
“Stop! Get out!” I stiffened my expression and stopped Su Liumeng from coming closer. “I’m going stir-crazy. Just let me do something, will you?”
For the past two weeks, she hadn’t let me lift a finger. All in the name of “taking care of the baby.”
I’d never been this pampered in my life, but somehow… I got used to it.
By now, I was almost three months pregnant—soon I’d start to show.
If I didn’t do something now, I’d be too far along to do anything later.
I could already feel it—my whole body had gotten a bit chubbier.
Maybe it wasn’t obvious yet, since I’d always been on the skinny side, but…
If this continues, I’m really afraid I’ll turn into a giant meatball in two months.
“You’re exaggerating,” the little dumpling—who could always sense my mood—was silently retorting.
“Mommy is still very skinny.”
“Mommy, don’t overexert yourself.”
“If you make dark cuisine, the person you like might get poisoned.”
I was covered in black lines. You little brat, if you can’t speak properly, just don’t speak at all.
Su Liumeng’s expression twisted, clearly conflicted, as if there was something she wanted to say but kept holding back.
She stared at the soft little hands pushing at her—so delicate they seemed to have no bones. After some hesitation, she still cooperated and allowed herself to be pushed out of the kitchen.
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