Chapter 897: Hiying

At that moment, at least three different options flashed through her mind.

Option one, directly give her real name "Ying"—simple and direct, but the woman opposite her, who looks exactly like her, is already called Bachongying; if she also said "Ying," the situation would become extremely awkward and suspicious.

Option two, give a false name. But that doesn't fit her character; she's never been good at making things up on the spot.

Option three, use a name related to her but not her real name.

She isn't someone good at improvising, but at this node, her intuition made a decision for her.

A name rose from deep in her memory, pausing on the tip of her tongue.

Hiying.

This was the two words that inexplicably surfaced in her mind when she saw her current appearance in the mirror Heimu had shown her not long ago.

She didn't know where this name came from, but at that moment it felt like a dry flower drifting out of an old book, landing silently in her palm.

She caught it.

"Hiying."

Ying's lips moved, her voice steady and clear, with a barely perceptible pause.

"Just call me Hiying."

"Hiying..."

Ling tilted her head, repeated the name, then narrowed her eyes and smiled, "What a lovely name! And it's similar to your sister's name, right? Bachongying means cherry blossom, and Hiying is also a red flower, isn't it? What a coincidence! Hiying sis, do we have some fated connection or something?"

Ying's eyelashes twitched slightly.

Fated destiny.

Those words came from the mouth of a girl who looked like at most a middle schooler, innocent and guileless, yet they precisely struck a spot she didn't want to examine closely.

Her face showed no flaw; she merely lowered her eyelids a bit, keeping the curve of her mouth at a gentle level.

"Thank you. Ling's name is also lovely."

She paused, thought, then added, "The sound of bells is really cute."

Ling's face turned red again.

A pink hue spread from her ears across her whole face, complementing her hair color.

She drew back to her sister's side, using her sleeve to cover half her face, revealing only two sparkling eyes; her toes rubbed together quickly under the seat, producing a softer rustle than before.

"Sis, sis, did you hear that? Hiying sis said my name is cute! She said the sound of bells is cute!"

She tugged at her sister's sleeve and whispered loudly, her voice low but pitched high enough to almost crack.

"I heard."

Bachongying let her shake her sleeve, her tone gentle, but the smile at the corners of her eyes deepened a bit.

She glanced at her sister, then turned to Hiying, nodding with a smile, "Thanks. She's overjoyed."

Ying shook her head slightly to say no thanks, then turned her gaze toward the window, giving Ling a moment to process being called cute.

Her side profile reflected in the car window glass; looking at that unfamiliar young face belonging to Hiying, she silently repeated that reaction in her heart.

Tone control was fine, expression management was fine, and the content of her response fell within normal small talk.

Good, the first hurdle cleared.

Ling's buffer period lasted about fifteen seconds.

Fifteen seconds later she sprang back like a computer after a reboot, this time even more energetic, leaning forward half her body, hands braced on the table before her, eyes fixed straight on the fox ears on Ying's head, her mouth already moving before her brain could catch up.

"Hiying sis! I want to ask a very important question!"

"Ling, sit properly. Don't prop your hands on the table." Bachongying reached out and tugged at the back of her sister's hoodie.

Ling was pulled back a bit, but her mouth showed no sign of stopping, her gaze still locked on those fox ears.

"Just one question! One!"

She raised a finger to show "one," then pointed at the pair of slender pink fox ears on Ying's head, her voice full of the reverence and excitement of an elementary schooler seeing a dinosaur skeleton for the first time at a science museum.

"Are you cosplaying some character, sis? Those ears—are they handmade or custom? The blending at the base is practically flawless! And the color matches your hair perfectly, zero difference! I love this texture, it looks fluffy, I can——"

She paused, swallowed, likely having choked back the three words "let me touch," and switched to a safer phrasing, "——can I take a closer look? Just a glance!"

"Ling."

Bachongying's voice carried an extra thin layer of warning, as if saying, "Mind your manners."

Her hand still gripped the back of Ling's hoodie, not loosening, to keep her sister from toppling over the table.

"Ugh—fine, fine, I'm sitting properly now."

Ling obediently shifted her bottom back onto the seat, hands on her knees posing as "I'm being good," but her eyes remained fixed on Ying's fox ears, that gaze like a cat that's seen a teaser wand but been pressed to the floor by its owner, every cell screaming "I want to play."

Ying quickly reckoned in her mind.

Ling's question about "what character you're cosplaying" shows she regards those ears as a cosplay prop.

This interpretation is safe, much easier to handle than her worry about "why you grew fox ears."

After all, in this ordinary city‑background worldview, humans with fox ears are an anomaly, whereas cosplay is a normal subculture; the former triggers panic, the latter only curiosity.

She just needed to go along with the cosplay line of thought.

"Well, sort of."

Ying's tone remained steady, with a hint of casual nonchalance: "Cosplay. The specific character—you probably wouldn't know it anyway. It's pretty obscure."

That statement isn't a complete lie, but it isn't the truth either.

But it's enough to satisfy a curious middle‑school girl.

She gave herself a passing grade for her improvisation in her mind, then noticed Ling's gaze had shifted from the ears to the red‑black long blade at her waist.

Ling's eyes lit up again.

That brightness exceeded the level when she looked at the ears by a few lumens, roughly like going from "spotting a cat teaser" to "spotting a whole box of cat teasers."

"Is that sword also a prop?!"

Ling had completely forgotten her sister's earlier instruction, her hands again propped on the tabletop, her torso leaning forward at an even greater angle than before, the knees of her white over‑knee stockings already half‑kneeling on the edge of the seat, "Wow, look! The pattern on that blade, and the hanging cloth strip—does it have cherry blossoms printed on it? The red‑and‑black color scheme is so cool! Hiying‑senpai, your cosplay completion is off the charts, every detail from head to toe! The props team's budget blew up!"

Bachongying pulled Ling back from the tabletop for the third time, this time directly wrapping her arms around her sister's shoulders, half‑securing the overly excited human kid in her embrace.

"Ling. If you keep this up, people will be scared away by you."

Her tone remained gentle, but her hold on her sister was steady; obviously she had performed this "controlling her excited sister" maneuver countless times, and it had become muscle memory.

Then she lifted her eyes and gave an apologetic smile toward the cherry blossoms, her blue‑green eyes filled with "Sorry, my little sister turns like this whenever she sees something she likes."

"No way would she be scared off! Hiying‑senpai looks like a very gentle person at first glance!"