Chapter 88: The Miraculous Yaya

“Feifei was forced to leave the entertainment industry for a year. Now, as a result of being associated with us, you can’t sign with any entertainment company for a year either. Do you regret it?” As they stepped out of the elevator, Sister Yaya asked.

In the past, Su Tong had always wondered. The entertainment world is a place where people are easily forgotten. No matter how popular a star is, a year of silence means their fame fades quickly. Yang Feifei was at the height of her career—why would she suddenly return to school?

In life, is education more important, or making money? The answer is obvious: making money.

Su Tong simply didn’t buy that Yang Feifei would devote a whole year to her undergraduate studies. Besides, with her credentials, the Beijing Film Academy wouldn’t have held back her diploma.

So that’s how it was.

“Haha, I never planned to sign with any entertainment company anyway, nor do I care for commercial gigs. This year is perfect for me to write songs, write books, and really lay a foundation,” Su Tong replied, laughing heartily.

Once out of the elevator, the two quickly entered the apartment.

“Su Tong, you’re here,” came a sweet, doll-like voice that countless women envied. Lin Yin greeted her with a smile.

Lin Yin was the girl whom Sister Yaya and Yang Feifei had rescued when Su Tong was live-streaming the death of Biyao on Qingyun Peak in “The Legend of Chusen.” Lin Yin and Yang Feifei were classmates, but her career was worlds apart from Feifei’s. The last time she tried to get a role, she nearly fell victim to a director’s sleazy intentions—fortunately, Feifei and Sister Yaya arrived just in time.

“Supersonic sister, you look so gorgeous today!” Su Tong laughed.

Lin Yin pouted coyly, her voice so soft and sweet it made Su Tong’s bones melt. “Su Tong, you’re always teasing me.”

“Hehe, Yin Yin, who’s bullying you? Tell me and I’ll stand up for you!” Yang Feifei dashed out of her room, dressed in a loose cartoon T-shirt, her long, fair legs dazzlingly white, almost blinding Su Tong.

“No one’s bullying me, Feifei. Have you packed for our trip to Seaside City tomorrow?” Lin Yin giggled, her voice so tender even Feifei shivered with delight.

Tomorrow was September 30th, the start of the National Day holiday.

“I’ve been ready for ages. Su Tong’s family is in Seaside City. When you come with me, make sure he takes you out for some fun. Build up your friendship—he’ll be more likely to write songs for you that way.” Yang Feifei, unconcerned about Su Tong being present, was as direct as ever.

“No, no, Su Tong’s songs aren’t easy to write, and besides, maybe his style isn’t right for a girl’s voice,” Lin Yin hurriedly declined, tugging Su Tong aside to explain. “Don’t listen to Feifei’s nonsense, Su Tong. She never takes anything seriously. I’ve come to terms with it—the entertainment industry just isn’t for me.”

“Haha, Yin Yin, your voice is truly unique, so there really aren’t many songs that suit you,” Su Tong said, and Lin Yin’s face fell. Not only had her acting career stalled, even singing was out of reach. But just as she was growing disheartened, Su Tong continued, “But then, that’s only compared to someone like me. My voice can handle both male and female parts. Don’t worry, Yin Yin. Good writing is a gift from heaven, and great songs come about the same way. As long as you work hard enough, even an iron rod can be ground down to a needle…”

“As long as you work hard enough, even an iron rod can be ground down to a needle.”

Lin Yin stole a glance at Su Tong’s crotch, cheeks flushing as her mind wandered to something rather inappropriate.

“Stop bragging. You don’t even have a girlfriend—what are you grinding or rubbing, exactly?” Yang Feifei giggled.

Lin Yin’s face was crimson. She understood Yang Feifei’s insinuation perfectly.

But Su Tong was puzzled. “What does having a girlfriend have to do with it?”

Yang Feifei’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “Then tell me, how do you grind or rub your iron rod?”

“With my hand, of course.” Su Tong stared at her, looking every bit the fool.

Yang Feifei doubled over laughing, clutching her stomach as she collapsed onto the sofa. “With your hand? Oh my god, I’m dying!”

Lin Yin’s face was ablaze as she fled back to her room.

Su Tong’s gaze lingered—was that girl even wearing pants? Her T-shirt barely covered her thighs, yet he hadn’t seen any shorts.

“Enough silliness, sit up straight,” Sister Yaya called, emerging from her room in comfortable home clothes, gently pulling Feifei off the sofa. She was holding a small bottle of liquid.

Sister Yaya had changed into a purple slip dress. Earlier, she’d looked like a fairy from the moon palace, but now she seemed like a noblewoman descended to earth, graceful and refined, yet touched by the warmth of the mortal world.

“Tong, are you really going to write a song for Lin Yin?” Sister Yaya sat down and beckoned Su Tong to join her.

Su Tong couldn’t guess what she was thinking. “Sister Yaya, should I… or shouldn’t I?”

“Lin Yin is pure-hearted and close with Feifei. If you can help her, do so,” Sister Yaya said, opening the bottle and pouring a few drops of liquid into her palm, rubbing both hands together.

“It’s so pungent, but there’s a hint of fragrance, too,” Feifei remarked, pinching her nose.

Su Tong had just nodded when Sister Yaya told him to hold out his left hand.

“Ah—”

She took his injured left hand and began to rub it. Her touch shifted from cool to hot, an alternating sensation of ice and fire.

Sister Yaya’s hand wasn’t as soft and delicate as Feifei’s. Her skin was more resilient, giving Su Tong a sense of inexplicable security.

“Your muscles, bones, and skin are too tender. You hardly store any energy at all—a fatal flaw.” Sister Yaya massaged his palm gently with her thumb and forefinger.

Su Tong was confused. “Sister Yaya, your skin looks even more delicate than mine. Do you mean you have energy stored in your flesh?”

She smiled faintly and extended a hand for him to feel.

Su Tong pinched it between two fingers, and to his astonishment, her hand felt even softer than Feifei’s.

“You little rascal, getting fresh with Sister Yaya!” Feifei teased from the side.

Su Tong ignored her. As Feifei spoke, his eyes widened—Sister Yaya’s hand suddenly became as cold and sharp as a blade, icy and lethal.

He quickly let go, worried it would cut him.

“Sister Yaya…” He felt awkward, as if he’d just rejected her hand outright.

She smiled gently. “Try again.”

He reached out, this time with care.

Her hand was once more soft and innocuous, as yielding as water.

“That’s energy,” she explained. “There are two states: suppressed and unleashed. When it’s suppressed, my flesh and bones are softer than Feifei’s. But when I unleash it, it’s as hard and sharp as refined steel.”

Su Tong stared in disbelief. This was beyond anything he could grasp—it was like the moment he’d been reborn or when he’d suddenly acquired the divine stone: something science simply couldn’t explain.

Only now did he fully understand Feifei’s words. Da Long was formidable, but he was nowhere near Sister Yaya’s level—the difference was huge.

And as for himself compared to Sister Yaya… What use was Wei Yan’s combat experience? No matter how skilled he was, a mortal body was no match for cold steel.

He didn’t know if Sister Yaya could become a living weapon, but that hand, when unleashed, was absolutely a deadly blade.

“Do you want to learn?” Sister Yaya suddenly smiled, her expression like the clouds parting to reveal the moon, bathing everything in sacred moonlight.