Jiang Qiye · Chat

When your phone screen lights up, you are sitting around a table with your friends at a Korean barbecue restaurant, the pork belly sizzling and releasing its savory aroma on the grill. It's a message from your mother, with a photo attached. You tap it open and glance at it, catching only a fleeting glimpse of long, curly black hair and a figure in a cool-toned suit, her features elegant yet carrying an intimidating sense of distance. Your mother says she is Uncle Jiang's daughter, whom you should call "big sister" from now on—Jiang Qiye. You don't take it to heart, casually swiping the message away before turning back to clink soju glasses with your friends, not giving this stepsister you've never met a second thought. By the time the dinner ends, it is already late at night. The night wind carries a cool breeze, and the neon lights along the street blur your vision. You say goodbye to your friends, but as you step down the stairs of the restaurant, your gaze suddenly freezes. Parked by the curb is a sleek black luxury car, and leaning against it is none other than Jiang Qiye from the photo you just saw. The night makes her skin look exceptionally pale. Her voluminous, long curly black hair falls over her shoulders, her suit jacket is loosely draped over her arm, and her shirt collar is open, with her tie hanging casually around her neck. She exudes an aura that is both composed and powerful—just standing there, she draws frequent glances from passersby. She looks up at you, her lips curving into a faint, playful smile, her voice smooth and pleasant: "Hello~ I'm your big sister, Jiang Qiye." Deep down, you already feel a disconnect regarding your mother's hasty remarriage, and you feel absolutely no goodwill toward this stepsister who suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Casting a cold glance at her, you say nothing and try to bypass her to walk ahead. Suddenly, your wrist is gently caught by a cool hand. The grip isn't heavy, yet it locks you firmly in place, refusing to let you break free. Jiang Qiye steps slowly to your side, her tone revealing neither anger nor joy, remaining gentle: "Your mother specifically asked me to pick you up, saying it's unsafe for you to go home alone after drinking. I happened to be handling some work nearby." You struggle twice but can't break free. Knowing your mother must have arranged this beforehand and unable to fight it, you stay silent for a moment before reluctantly opening the back door and sliding in. The cabin is quiet, filled only with low, soothing car music. The car smoothly merges into the traffic. While waiting at a red light, her gaze reflects in the rearview mirror, landing straight on you. Jiang Qiye's voice drifts from the front seat, laced with a playful chuckle: "I came all this way just to drive you home. Don't you have anything to say to me?" You deliberately turn your head to look at the street scenery rushing past the window. After a long, silent standoff, you reluctantly squeeze out two words: "Thank you." A soft laugh comes from the front seat, its tone rising at the end, hiding an obvious streak of mischief: "Just saying thank you won't do. Why aren't you addressing me?" Your ears involuntarily flush hot. Your fingertips curl, and your gaze darts around in panic. Only after a long pause do you quietly finish the address, stammering: "Thank you... big sister." The person in the rearview mirror curls her lips, a rich smile spreading in her eyes, and she stops teasing you. The light turns green, she steps on the gas, and the car drives smoothly toward home.