A week ago, that well-known Linux kernel developer Mawei-kun gifted me this game. Oshi no Love yori Koi no Love (推しのラブより恋のラブ). Honestly I wanted Tryment, that reheated cash-grab, but Mawei-kun sent me this instead and hoped I’d walk through the gates of yuri. The game isn’t long, and after finishing it I fell into deep thought. Because this game made me think back on a lot of things… A lot of memories I’d almost forgotten…

Kikuzakura is a beautiful girl, with pretty pink hair, fair skin, and a sweet smile. She doesn’t remember her original surname. She doesn’t even know who her parents are. For as long as she can remember she’s lived with her grandmother. “Grandmother” is only the woman who took her in, not real blood relation. Kikuzakura has asked her many times: “Where are my mom and dad?” Grandma always smiles, strokes Kikuzakura’s head, and says slowly: “You’re still young. When you’ve grown up, I’ll tell you.” Time flies. In the blink of an eye Kikuzakura is an adult, eighteen years old. On her eighteenth birthday, after they finish the cake, Grandma gives her a present. The little box is heavy, and she can’t tell what’s inside. Kikuzakura wants to tear it open right away, but Grandma stops her. “After the cake, tonight, in your room. Look at it slowly, by yourself.” Grandma’s expression is full of a kind of helplessness… as if there’s something she can’t say. Kikuzakura nods… ………… An autumn night, cool breeze blowing. Kikuzakura sits at the desk by the window and opens this Pandora’s box. Inside is a notebook… the paper between the layers has already yellowed a little, but the cover is thick enough that the contents should still be fine. She lifts the first page. Tucked inside is a photograph: a pink-haired woman holding a baby, smiling at the camera. Kikuzakura understands. There’s news of her parents in here, and the person in the photo is her mother. She keeps flipping. It’s a diary… a story from the past, unfolding before Kikuzakura page by page.

Xuebi’s surname is Wang, and he’s the only son in the family. By “only son” I don’t mean anything special—it’s just that he’s the only boy in this household. Wang Xuebi’s mom runs an antique knick-knack shop, but she’s scary fertile. After popping out Wang Xuebi, she went on to have four girls in a row: Wang Asahi, Wang Sayo, Wang Mahiru, and Wang Yayoi. The four girls have completely different personalities, but they’ve got one thing in common—they inherited their mom’s genes, and each one is prettier than the last. Of course, as the only boy, i.e. the only big brother in the family, Wang Xuebi looks… a little unfortunate. Probably because his mother spoiled him rotten, Wang Xuebi’s waistline has gotten another ring around it lately, and he’s about to need a custom belt. His classmates all call him “fatty,” but Wang Xuebi doesn’t mind at all. He’s the eldest son, the only male—and more importantly, he has four pretty sisters. Even more importantly, all four of those pretty sisters are crazy about him. Wang Xuebi has never interacted with other women. He’s got four knockout girls right at home—why go out and get stuck in traffic? So whenever his female classmates give him a look of disgust, Wang Xuebi fires back a look of contempt. “Fatty, you’re so fat you’re dripping grease, it’s gross.” “I hear he’s a siscon too, always tangled up with his sisters.” “Last time Lin Xian, the guy next door to the fatty’s house, said he saw the fatso taking turns kissing his sisters! I almost threw up just thinking about it.” “Holy shit, for real?!” The chattering girls can’t hold back this explosive rumor any longer, and their shrill voices get even more piercing.

I’d originally planned to take my physics teacher out for Japanese food, but when I drove over the place was closed… I should’ve figured it out when nobody picked up the phone number listed on Meituan. Miscalculated. And somehow Meituan was still selling group-buy vouchers for the place — should I be snarking that everyone at Meituan is too busy lifting weights and riding bikes? So we decided on the hot pot place next door. Once we’d eaten most of the hot pot, my physics teacher started talking about her hobbies.