In the mornings in Qingyuan City, the sunlight is so bright it makes your eyes dizzy, and the sll of the asphalt roads lting in the air is just as nauseating as the unfinished physics test paper in my schoolbag.
My na is Chenmo (Silence), I’m a senior in high school, and I’m currently in my mom Zhou Huixin’s car on our way to school.
I glanced at the back seat through the rearview mirror. My sister, Shen Youyi, was fussing over her long, straight black hair—long enough to be used as a scarf—in front of a small mirror, her little face serious.
White socks paired with little leather shoes, swaying back and forth, made her look just like a delicate SD doll—if she didn’t speak.
"Mom, look at my brother!" She stared at the small mirror, but began to complain, "He secretly used my lotion again! A grown man, and he slls like sweet milk, it’s disgusting!" Her voice was crisp and clear, with the sharp edge unique to a sixteen-year-old girl, every word piercing to the heart.
I rolled my eyes: "Shen Youyi, get this straight, it was your bottle that looks like disinfectant that was on my sink, so I squeezed out a little bit to taste it."
"Taste it? Do you have eyes or sothing? There’s no na on the bottle, is there? Clumsy thing, don’t fail the next monthly exam, please let give you the key points!" She slamd the small mirror shut, her dark eyes glaring at , her lips pursed so much they could hang an oil bottle on them. She clearly looked extrely disgusted, like I was looking at garbage.
This guy is two years younger than , and he’s so arrogant in front of because he’s good at studying.
In the passenger seat, Zhou Huixin, the mother, held the steering wheel with one hand and habitually ran her hand through her honey-brown wavy hair—the signature hairstyle of the horoom teacher of Class 3 at a top high school.
She was dressed in her work attire: a high-quality silk blouse that hugged her voluptuous upper body, and a pencil skirt that accentuated her waist and hips. Her figure was absolutely outstanding among the students.
On the podium, Ms. Zhou is a notorious iron lady; a single glance from her can send chills down a student’s spine. But at ho? Heh.
"Youyi, how can you talk to your brother like that!" Mom spoke up, her tone still gentle. "Momo, you too, don’t always use your sister’s things."
She glanced at us both with loving eyes through the rearview mirror, her doting gaze a stark contrast to her usual deanor on the podium. "Get along well! The first mock college entrance exam for seniors is coming up soon, so get yourselves together!"
I grunted in agreent. Speaking of studying... hey, this is pretty surreal.
A month ago, sothing suddenly popped into my head called the "God-level Tag System".
It sounds mysterious, but it’s actually quite simple and straightforward to use.
The system will give so blank labels to define, and then... I can "stick" them on other people or myself, just like writing reviews for online shopping.
Once a person is labeled, their personality will subtly change in the direction of the label.
When I first got the system, I went out of my way to describe myself: [Good Student], [Academic Genius], [Exceptional mory]... And believe it or not, it actually worked like a jerk!
Formulas and theorems that used to seem like gibberish are now morized at a glance, making problem-solving much clearer.
Along with that, I also added so personalized perks for myself: a huge penis, a golden kidney... This resulted in waking up every day with that thing in my crotch standing proudly and proudly, its size was truly frightening.
Of course, no one knows about this except —at least not at the mont.
Looking at my younger sister’s smug "academic genius" face in the rearview mirror, and rembering the days when she used to tease with her mock exam scores every day, I felt a surge of resentnt.
This little sharp-tongued one, isn’t she just relying on her good grades? Fine! System, give a hard hit! With a thought, a blank label shimring with light appeared in my mind: [Obsessed with her own brother].
"Apply! Target: Shen Youyi!" I silently chanted in my mind.
The label transford into a faint light that only I could see, disappearing into the back of her head.
Hehehe, just wait and see, Shen Youyi. Just imagine how obedient she’ll be to in the future, with stars in her eyes. I can’t help but burst out laughing.
Serves you right for being so sharp-tongued! Serves you right for showing off! Let show you what it’s like to "love your brother"!
However... days passed by. When the mock exam results ca out, I relied on my "academic genius" halo to break into the top fifty of the grade, enjoying my mont of glory.
But what about the young lady in the back seat? Not only did she show no sign of falling in love with , but because my improved grades "stole" so of her lilight, she beca even more sarcastic! Her sarcasm was on fire.
"So people get lucky and do well on a test once in a while, and their mouths are practically stretched to their ears, and their tails are wagging so high, huh? Be careful not to fall down if you float too high, bro—bro—" Last night at dinner, she took the last piece of rib from my chopsticks and stuck her tongue out at . Her smug look made my liver hurt, and I wanted to shove her delicate face into the rice bowl.
It seems this broken system doesn’t work for the "emotional" tag? What a waste of my expectations.
Oh well, let’s just pretend it was a failed prank. High school seniors have precious ti; who has ti to keep an eye on whether she’s fallen for ? So I put the whole thing out of my mind.
The car stopped at the school gate. My mother gave a few words of advice, such as "Listen carefully in class" and "Don’t cause trouble," before hurrying off to the teachers’ office.
Shen Youyi and I got off the bus one after the other, with different destinations. She went to the building for the first-year students, while I headed towards the hellish main building for the third-year students.
As soon as I entered the classroom of Class 3, Grade 12, the sll of sweat, breakfast buns, and the oppressive atmosphere of hard work hit .
The classroom was bustling with students, the buzzing of recitations like a swarm of anxious bees. My seat was by the window, and my deskmate, Huang Minghao, was struggling with a solid geotry problem, sweating profusely.
"Haozi, what question are we on?" I slamd my backpack into my seat.
"The third question, damn it, this way of drawing auxiliary lines is too tricky! Brother Mo, save !" Huang Minghao looked like he was about to cry. "You’re really aweso this ti, you went so high! Did you hire a private coach behind our backs?"
Before I could speak, Li Min from the back row interrupted. She was catching up on sleep and her eyes were barely open: "Co on, her silence is a talent! We re mortals can’t envy that... Oh, by the way, I just saw Mai Sui, the ’flying man’ from the next class, giving a lecture to the sports departnt. That little expression of hers, tsk tsk, she probably got scolded by the coach again."
Wheat ears? Imdiately, the image of a short-haired man with blue-purple highlights, a healthy wheat-colored complexion, wearing a vest and tight-fitting sports pants, and running like a leopard flashed into my mind.
The sprint ace from the next class, who’s as cheerful as a tomboy, has been acting a bit awkward around lately, avoiding my gaze.
"Serves her right," Wang Hai, the bespectacled man in the front seat, pushed up his glasses. "I heard she practiced relays yesterday and her coordination with the new team mbers was terrible. With her temper, it’s normal for her to get criticized."
He imitated Coach Gao’s tone from the sports departnt, "’Wheat Ear! This is a team event! Not a solo performance by you! If you keep this up, you’re going to practice individual skills!’ -- I bet that’s how the coach yelled, and he imitated it so well."
Just as they were chatting and laughing, the crisp sound of the pre-class bell rang.
"Shut up, all of you! The teacher’s coming!" soone shouted in a low voice.
Instantly, the entire classroom seed to be muted, with only the faint sounds of turning pages and moving chairs remaining.
I looked up and saw my mother—no, it was Teacher Zhou—standing at the door with her lesson plans in hand.
Her signature wavy hair was perfectly styled, her silk shirt was crisp, her pencil skirt hugged her mature figure, and her high heels made a majestic "tap, tap" sound on the floor.
Her gaze was sharp as a knife, precisely sweeping over every corner like a laser scan.
The air seed to freeze instantly. The decisive and efficient Teacher Zhou on the podium and the kind mother Zhou Huixin who had given us instructions in the car that morning seed to be from two parallel worlds.
And so, a day in the senior year of high school began.
Test papers, formulas, Mom’s gaze... and, seemingly unchanged, that sharp-tongued and arrogant younger sister.
As for the label "I like and love my brother"?
It’s probably expired a long ti ago, right?
I twirled my pen absentmindedly, staring at the dense writing on the blackboard, my thoughts drifting away.
System, oh system, this is a bit strange.
The days dragged on like glued-together exam papers, each one a sticky, unsteady march forward. That girl, Shen Youyi, tsk, still the sa old Shen Youyi.
In the morning, he would snatch the fried egg from my plate; at night, he would deliberately turn the music up loud while I was doing my howork; and whenever he had the chance, he would complain about to my mom—things like, "My brother stole my yogurt again," or "My brother’s slly socks are polluting the air"... It’s the sa old story.
But... it seems a little different? For example, when she called "clumsy," her eyes seed watery, less of the sharp disdain, and more of an indescribable light.
Occasionally, when I stay up late doing howork, she will "pass by" my door and casually toss out a sentence like, "Mom told you to go to sleep early, or I’ll have to collect your body if you die suddenly." Her tone is still sharp, but her voice is soft and gentle, like she’s being affectionate.
Most importantly, what’s the deal with that glass of warm milk that was quietly placed on the corner of my desk?
I scratched my head, attributing that subtle change to my improved status in the family brought about by my "learning genius" label.
As for that "obsessed with his own brother" tag? I threw it into the mory trash can long ago, thinking it was just a system glitch.
Ineffective product, bad review!
Until that weekend morning.
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