Chewing the gum, sweet with a sugary taste—and a hint of her brother’s scent.
As for Qin An, he remained frozen, utterly petrified, even forgetting to pull his tongue back in.
Qin Yage stared at her呆 brother. Still in that innocent,懵懂 phase of childhood—precocious, yet her understanding of love and romance came only from those clichéd soap operas.
She’d just done something… monumental with her brother. Something only couples should do. But classmates often joked about showering or sleeping with siblings. *So this is nothing special, right?*
Still, seeing him stand there like a wooden statue sparked a flicker of irritation.
They sat僵 on the couch, feeling each other’s warmth, breathing in the heat from each other’s mouths.
On TV, two figures stood on a dock, silhouetted against a sunset—utterly cinematic.
“Maria, we should break up!”
“Why, David? I won’t leave you. I’d rather die than leave you.”
“Maria, look at me—I’m just your family’s hired help. No money, no BMW, no mansion. Barely scraping by. I can’t let you suffer with me.”
“I don’t care.”
“But…”
“No buts. As long as…”
Maria suddenly hooked her arms around David’s neck and kissed him fiercely—a long, dramatic, wet kiss.
“Maria…”
“Don’t worry, David. Now not even my mother can tear us apart.” Maria stroked her stomach, a sly smile playing on her lips. “I’m carrying your child.”
“What?!” David reeled as if struck by lightning. “Whose child?!”
“Yours, of course! We kissed, didn’t we? That’s how babies happen.”
Such naive girls were rare these days. Yet right before Qin An sat one—a girl stubbornly convinced kissing led to pregnancy.
*Worst possible timing for this show,* Qin An groaned inwardly. *This is basically signing my death warrant.*
Sure enough.
Qin Yage’s face flushed crimson, then faded to ashen gray, finally darkening like charcoal. Her tiny fangs—those familiar little daggers—flashed.
Her ear-splitting wails brought the birthday celebration to a crashing close.
Leaning against the door, cheeks still flushed, Qin Yage could feel her heart pounding fiercely.
The gum still tasted sweet in her mouth. She couldn’t bring herself to spit it out—even though it had sparked tonight’s chaos.
Her mind buzzed. The birthday excitement lingered. She touched her stomach, feeling a sudden weight of responsibility. *I’ll never treat my child like Mom treated me.*
As for Qin An?
He’d been kicked out. The reason needed no explanation. The night air was chilly; he’d grabbed an extra jacket before leaving.
His sister was still furious. Qin An wouldn’t dare provoke her—not when his shoulder was already bleeding.
Aunt Xia’s house glowed warmly, but harsh shouts spilled from within.
“What kind of girl runs wild all day?! Coming home bruised every night—who’d ever marry you?!”
“Shut up! It’s none of your business! I’m running away!”
“You dare step out that door, and don’t you dare come back!”
“I’ll never come back!”
Tears welled as the little tyrant fled—but seeing Qin An waiting at the street corner, she swallowed them back.
“Xiao Anzi! Still wandering the streets this late?” Her face lit up, all traces of sadness gone.
“Reporting to Your Majesty,” Qin An grinned, “I was exiled. Did the Empress Dowager banish you too?”
“Hmph. I’m incognito.” She grabbed his wrist. “Come on—I’ll show you a great spot.”
“Where?”
Before he could resist, she dragged him along. Only after relentless prodding did she reveal their destination: an arcade.
Tucked down a dim alley, the place echoed with stray cats’ yowls.
Arcades ruled kids’ lives back then—before computer games took over. *The King of Fighters*, *Metal Slug*, *Knights of Valour*—those were the hot titles.
Qin An was a hacker prodigy, trained by Doville’s wilderness king Edmond, hacking legend Milok, and close-combat master Alcart. He’d even forged his own lethal gunplay style. But arcades? He barely touched them. *CrossFire* was the only shooter he knew well.
The moment they entered, the arcade’s air turned icy.
“There you are! Ready to fight?!” A cigarette-dangling high-schooler barked.
The little tyrant said nothing. She slid into the seat, gripped the joystick—and crushed him 2-0. The guy sat stunned, cigarette forgotten on the floor.
“Who’s next?! I’ll take on all comers!”
Pure霸气.
One by one, she demolished them. After a dozen matches, her finger speed never faltered—only grew sharper.
“Phew—” She exhaled sharply at the arcade door, stretching her arms. “Dead tired.” Her neck cracked as she rolled it.
“Didn’t know you were this good at games,” Qin An said, amused by the bitter faces of the defeated uncles. Their expressions were a hundred times uglier than bitter melons.
“Of course! I’m the one-coin-clear champion!” Her voice sounded lighter than usual—less forced, less rough.
Qin An paused, studying her profile, then chuckled softly. *Overthinking again. If she were a girl, would she really roughhouse with me all day?*
Poor Xiao Anzi’s low EQ missed the truth. A woman’s heart was beyond his guess. This beautiful misunderstanding would unravel beautifully someday.
They strolled Nan’an City’s 2000 streets—low buildings, cracked roads, white tile walls gleaming under moonlight. No neon glare, no traffic roar. Just quiet.
Holding complimentary sodas from the arcade owner, they wandered through alleys. Turning onto East Street, they spotted a black Audi parked roadside. A woman in a tailored black skirt suit leaned against it, vomiting. The dress hugged her curves; slender legs peeked below the hem; her chest swelled invitingly.
“She’s gorgeous. Way prettier than my mom,” the little tyrant muttered.
“Mm.”
A young man emerged from a nearby alley—170cm tall, army shorts, flip-flops, a white vest slung over his shoulder, a cigarette dangling from his lips, a buzz cut. The look of a jobless thug.
He walked stiffly past them. Qin An sensed his trembling hands—*he’s scared*. His gait was rigid, almost stumbling.
Qin An’s assassin-honed eyes locked on the woman. She lifted her head, cheeks flushed from alcohol. *That face…* Nan’an City’s Deputy Education Bureau Chief, Tong Tong. He’d seen her on TV, at school ceremonies. The little tyrant recognized her too.
A muffled gasp echoed ahead. By the car, a pair of long legs kicked wildly. High heels scraped shallow marks on the pavement.
It was a dead-end alley.
Qin An nudged the little tyrant. “Wanna play hero?”
A pointless question. Her furious glare and the baseball bat materializing in her grip said everything.
Spotting construction debris nearby, Qin An sprinted over. He grabbed two half-meter wooden sticks, testing their weight. Holding these crude weapons, he longed for his Desert Eagles, Berettas, butterfly knives, sniper rifles—even a katana would do.
