Notes: Long Aotian is a Chinese web-novel slang for an extraordinarily powerful, successful, or seemingly unbeatable male protagonist. Not necessarily a character’s actual name.
“Hey, Song Yan, that little girl didn’t come today?” The vendor at the next stall rolled up his sleeves and fanned himself with a palm-leaf fan in the shade, feeling that the familiar view was somehow less lively than usual.
He slapped his thigh. Ah, right! The little girl who was always beside Song Yan wasn’t here today!
“It’s hot today. She can’t stand too much sun.”
The young man speaking was tall and straight, wearing a white baseball cap. With his head lowered, his face couldn’t be seen clearly. His voice was clear and bright, and it grew noticeably gentler when he mentioned his little sister.
“Ah, no wonder. Every time I see that little girl, her face is so pale… Life hasn’t been easy for your family either.”
Song Yan skillfully rolled up a serving of liangpi[1]A former rural village absorbed into a growing Chinese city, often characterized by densely packed buildings, narrow alleys, and relatively inexpensive housing. jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_3699025_1_1').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_3699025_1_1', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });, slipping it into a small plastic bag as he replied with a smile:
“Who doesn’t have to work hard to earn a living?”
He packed the order efficiently, handed it to the customer, and began tidying up.
“Closing up already?” the neighboring vendor asked in surprise.
“I’m heading back at noon to make lunch for Mi Mi. I’ll be back this afternoon.” Song Yan lowered his head, untied his apron and took off his gloves, then folded them and stuffed them into a bag.
He took off his baseball cap, revealing neat, short black hair. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his wheat-tanned face, but it couldn’t hide his handsome, well-defined features.
The vendor watched Song Yan ride off in a hurry on his little electric scooter and wiped his own sweat with a sigh.
He’d heard that the two had grown up together, and both came from unfortunate families… Ah! Two poor, unlucky kids.
Meanwhile, Song Yan steered his scooter into a crooked, twisting alley in an urban village, where electrical wires crisscrossed overhead and cigarette butts littered the ground.
This was an urban village.
After climbing to the third floor, Song Yan took out his keys but didn’t open the door right away. Standing at the entrance, he first wiped his sweat with a clean handkerchief and brushed the dust off his clothes. Only after tidying himself up did he turn the key.
“Creak—”
The moment he stepped inside, Song Yan sensed something was wrong. An acrid smell filled his nostrils, and clattering sounds came from the kitchen.
“Mi Mi?!”
Song Yan hurriedly pulled open the small kitchen door and found himself face-to-face with an exquisitely beautiful little face.
Her pretty almond eyes were filled with embarrassment, and tomato juice was splashed across her face and clothes. A small pot by the window was bubbling away.
“Whose food is burning?! Cough, cough—do something about it!” An auntie downstairs shouted, coughing as she slammed her window shut.
“Song Yan… cough, cough… you’re back…” Ji Mi was still holding the spatula.
She watched as Song Yan silently turned off the stove, then gently ushered her out of the kitchen.
“There’s too much smoke in here. Go out first.”
“Huh?” Before Ji Mi could say anything, Song Yan took the spatula from her hand, set it down in the kitchen, and turned back toward her.
Ji Mi’s heart pounded as she faced the silent Song Yan, at a loss for words.
“Sit here.” Song Yan spoke again, but after only a glance at her, he walked off in another direction.
He left Ji Mi sitting alone on the small, light-apricot-colored sofa, which was dotted with a few fluffy little plush toys.
The girl on the sofa had pale skin, noticeably flushed cheeks, and a small face that still carried a bit of baby fat. Her cherry-pink lips were pressed together, glistening faintly.
Her long, naturally curly hair was tied up haphazardly behind her head. Her fingers twisted together nervously—she didn’t dare touch the plush toys on the sofa with her dirty hands.
The apartment was old and shabby but kept spotlessly clean, and with the girl sitting there, the whole room seemed to glow.
Guilty.
Ji Mi felt deeply guilty.
She had only wanted to make tomato and scrambled eggs. But after she’d cut the tomatoes and put them in the pan, she noticed that the recipe said to peel them first—so she tried to fish the cut tomatoes back out and peel them properly.
She hadn’t expected the tomatoes to be scalding hot. Ji Mi’s hand slipped, and a tomato went splat onto the cutting board, smashed to bits.
Not wanting to waste it, she put the remaining tomato pulp back into the hot oil, setting off a terrifying crackling and popping. By the time Ji Mi came to her senses, the pulp had burned onto the bottom of the pan, and she hurriedly added water—
Her tomato-and-egg stir-fry had turned into a mushy tomato-and-egg soup.
Ji Mi picked at her fingers, her fingertips reddened from the burn. Her slender hands twisted together, making her look utterly pitiful.
The narrow bathroom couldn’t fit two people, so Song Yan filled a small basin with warm water and brought out Ji Mi’s own little towel.
The moment he looked up, he saw Ji Mi sitting there, obedient and pitiful, gazing at him with those glossy almond-shaped eyes.
“A-Yan.” The girl’s voice was soft and sweet, carrying a hint of coaxing charm.
Song Yan gave an “mm” in response, crouched down beside the sofa, wet the towel, and gently wiped the tomato juice from Ji Mi’s little face.
“…Was it because I came home late? If you’re hungry, there are little bread rolls in the snack cabinet.”
“And don’t you love the toast from that shop? Next time I’ll buy you a few other flavors to switch things up, okay?”
His wheat-tanned arm showed smooth, defined muscle lines. With one hand supporting her cheek, he gently wiped the girl’s pretty face with the other.
Once he was sure her face was perfectly clean, he wet the towel again, took Ji Mi’s hand in his, lowered his head, and carefully cleaned her fingers one by one.
Ji Mi felt that Song Yan’s body was so warm—even the cold air conditioning couldn’t disperse the heat radiating off him, like a little furnace.
Hearing Song Yan’s words, Ji Mi composed herself.
“It’s not that I’m hungry—I wanted to cook lunch for you… You run back and forth every noon to cook for me, and it’s too hard on you. I wanted to share some of the burden,” Ji Mi said earnestly.
These words only made Song Yan frown. He put the towel back in the basin. “No need. Just stay home and wait for me like a good girl—that’s the only way I can relax.”
Song Yan stood up and turned to put the basin away, leaving Ji Mi huffing in frustration. “I don’t want you to be so tired!”
“I’m not tired,” Song Yan said sincerely. Being able to see Ji Mi on his trips back and forth every day filled his heart with happiness and joy, giving him strength from head to toe.
Looking at Ji Mi now, no one would ever guess that just a few years ago she had been a frighteningly skinny little girl.
Ji Mi was a little angry. Watching Song Yan speak so earnestly, she felt both heartache and helplessness.
Song Yan stroked Ji Mi’s hair, her smooth curls giving off the fresh fragrance of jasmine. “I’ll go cook now.”
“Then let me be your assistant.” Ji Mi tried one last time, but as she stood up, Song Yan pressed her back down.
“I’m faster on my own.” Song Yan chuckled softly and patted Ji Mi’s little head again, thinking with gratification:
Mi Mi cares about me. What a wonderful Mi Mi she is.
Ji Mi: “…”
Just as Song Yan entered the kitchen, Ji Mi heard knocking at the door.
Knock, knock, knock.
Ji Mi glanced at Song Yan, busy in the kitchen, then got up, walked to the door, leaned in close, and peered through the peephole—
Several men in black suits and a woman dressed in luxurious clothing.
Wrong door? Or debt collectors?
Ji Mi wasn’t sure. She cleared her throat. “Just leave the takeout at the door!”
The people outside fell into a collective silence.
AUTHOR’S NOTE / CONTENT WARNINGS
(This story has already been revised into a non-explicit version.)
[Content warnings for this story: The female lead is soft and delicate, loves to act cute, is a beauty who loves money but obtains it honestly, is adorable and clingy, is a high-maintenance kitty, has a kind heart, and is physically frail but makes sure to maintain her own physical and mental well-being and happiness. Universally adored heroine + female-mo trope! NOT a strong female lead, NOT a mindless power fantasy!! The plot is simple, and every romantic contender falls in love at first sight.
She’s childhood friends with Song Yan!
This is NOT a traditional overpowered-protagonist story—it’s a light, slice-of-life romance. In the early stages, only Song Yan’s father dislikes the female lead (NOT everyone in the world loves her—if you want a story where the whole world unconditionally adores the female lead, proceed with caution. It’s somewhat grounded in reality; everyone’s a sucker for a pretty face, and the female lead is simply the most beautiful).
If you want to complain, complain to the author—don’t curse my precious girl.]
References[+]