Inside the presidential suite of Nan’an City’s sole five-star hotel—the Imperial Splendor Hotel—

Tong Fu gently laid the sleeping Pupils on the bed. His wife, Xu Peici, massaged his shoulders as he still simmered with unspent anger.

“Lao Tong, what do you think of that boy Qin An?”

“He’s decent. Unflappable. Didn’t make a sound when I hit him. Clear eyes. His clothes are worn, so his family’s probably just average. But money means nothing to us—we’re poor in everything but cash.”

“Do you think Pupils has… special feelings for him? She’s usually so shy, yet she wasn’t afraid of him at all. Even clung to his sleeve. Kept murmuring his name in her sleep—something she’s never done before.”

“He’s just a kid. Knows nothing! But… better safe than sorry.”

“So…”

A sly grin spread across Tong Fu’s face. “Let’s see if he can even handle his own parents first. Dreaming of my granddaughter? Not a chance!”

“Hand me the phone. I’m calling Beijing. I’ll make sure that brat never leaves that backwater Southwest region. First he hurt my precious daughter, now he’s after my granddaughter? They think I’ve spent all these years in office for nothing?”

“Calm down. Your health… Let’s see how far your father takes this. After all, the Southwest man’s only flaw was fathering an ugly daughter.”

“Proof my genes are superior! His whole family’s hideous.”

“Hmph. It’s *my* doing. Without me, you’d never have such a beautiful daughter—or such a lovely granddaughter.” Xu Peici tilted her head, her mature charm still intoxicating.

“Fine, fine—all your credit. But you know my temper’s flaring lately. I need… release.”

“Stop! Don’t unzip yet. We’re not kids. Pupils is sleeping!”

“We can use the guest room. This hotel’s soundproofing is excellent.”

“Make it last this time. Last time, I had to finish myself.”

Tong Fu thumped his chest confidently. “Don’t worry—I’ll make you feel twenty again.”

A yellow powder packet peeked from his pocket, stamped in neat print: *“Ten Years Younger, Endless Vitality.”* Qin An’s handwriting.

*Qin An’s products—always premium.*

*Win my granddaughter? We’ll see how you handle this, kid!* Tong Fu roared inwardly. The next moment, he pounced on the bed like a tiger. This experience would haunt him forever—Qin An had forgotten to mention the dosage.

---

Qin An wore a crisp white shirt and black jeans. With thick-rimmed glasses, he’d look every bit the student.

The iron gate, moss-covered and pitted with age, stood unlocked. He pushed inside. Static crackled from the black-and-white TV in the chaotic living room. Clothes and underwear littered the floor. Shredded paper coated every corner.

*Robbery?* Qin An’s first thought shattered when he saw Qin Yage wriggling under a blanket like a grub on the floor.

“Dear Qin Yage,” he sighed, “what happened? I’m gone a few days, and it looks like bandits ransacked the place.”

Yage peeked out, tears flooding her glass-clear eyes at the sight of him. “Waaah! Brother! You’re back! I waited so long… If you’d been later, you’d only find my bones!”

“What’s going on?”

Qin An righted the “grub,” untying the blanket ropes. The covers slid off, revealing Yage’s bare shoulders and arms. Her lack of clothing was obvious.

Glass-like transparent pupils.

Snow-pale skin.

A fragrance that seeped into the soul.

They locked eyes, silent.

The atmosphere hung fragile as a glass sculpture—

Yet undeniably real.

Her presence, unchanged from his past life, wrapped around him. Familiar. Tangible. As if everything before had been a fleeting dream.

“Yage…” Qin An breathed her name naturally.

“Brother…”

The moment swelled, poised to crest—

“My stomach’s growling…” Yage murmured weakly, eyelids drooping from hunger.

To Qin An, it was like a roaring engine sputtering dead. Like a player lunging for a game-winning shot, only to hear the final whistle.

The deflation was palpable.

Yage collapsed into his arms. Starving. Parched. She hadn’t eaten properly in days—surviving on candy.

How she’d reached this state was quite a tale.

It began the day Qin An left for camping.

Boredom gnawed at Yage. She’d reread her girly magazines until the pages frayed. So she called her doting senior classmates one by one.

*“Sorry, the number you dialed is unanswered. Please try later.”*

*“Sorry, the number you dialed is busy. Please try later.”*

*“Sorry, the number you dialed is out of service—”*

Not a single answer. Yage nearly smashed the phone—until she remembered her brother might confiscate her lollipops as punishment.

Desperate, she dialed her love-hate best friend: Dongfang Keian.

“Keke…”

“Wah! Yaya! You called *me*? Is the world ending?”

“I just—”

“You’re alone for May Day, right? I guessed! I ditched my mom’s trip just for you. I’ll make this the happiest May Day ever!”

“You—”

“Your address is 173 South Hill Road. I’m coming. Heh heh heh…”

An eerie chuckle crackled through the line.

*Click.*

Yage hung up. “So chatty. Wouldn’t let me speak. Should’ve never called that gossipmonger.”

*Beep beep beep—*

The phone shrieked. Yage clamped her hands over her ears.

She fled from the living room to the kitchen, then to her bedroom, rolling on the bed like a frustrated ball. The ringing pursued her like a heat-seeking missile.

Finally, she surrendered. Smoothing her messy bangs, she answered the nonstop caller.

“Listen. Let’s never talk again.”

“Huh? Yage! How can you say that? We signed a pact! White paper, black ink—you can’t deny it!”

“You think I’m stupid? That scribble’s worthless. No legal power.”

“Oh really? It has your signature *and* fingerprint!”

Yage groaned. “Keep it. It’s useless anyway. It wasn’t meant for you.”

Dongfang Keian cackled. “I know—it’s for your brother. But the wording’s so embarrassing! Shall I read it? *‘On such-and-such date, at such-and-such time, so-and-so and her idiot brother shall k-kiss. Per the Qin Family Marriage Law, they must m-marry. Party A—’*”

“Stop! Don’t read more!” Yage’s neck burned. Her cheeks flushed like ripe apples.

“Okay, okay~ Someone’s shy. Heh heh…”

“You’re the shy one! Never contact me again. Bye!”

*Beep beep beep—*

“Yage! Yage!” Dongfang Keian yelped, then smirked. She glared at the rusty iron gate. “This shack’s ten thousand miles from my mansion. How does anyone live here? How did Yaya survive? How did she grow so cute? So… intoxicating?”

Dongfang Keian stood mesmerized outside the gate for twenty minutes. Thankfully, the remote, impoverished neighborhood had few witnesses—or she’d surely be mistaken for a creep.

She hammered the doorbell dozens of times. Even Gray Wolf’s persistence paled beside hers.