After eating the noodles Qin An made, Yuko felt a slight dizziness creeping in. Before she knew it, she was dozing off, her head resting on the table.
"Silly An’an, hurry and carry your wife to bed! What if she catches a cold?" Sister Yuqing flicked Qin An’s forehead, then stretched lazily. Her curvaceous figure left everyone speechless, minds wandering.
"Oh! Got it."
Qin An lifted Yuko. She was as light as cotton.
Just as he headed for his room, Qin Yage appeared in the doorway, arms spread wide. "No way! She can’t sleep in your room. What if you do something weird to her at night?"
"I’ll sleep on the couch then!"
"Nope! She sleeps in *my* room." She shook her head vigorously, twin ponytails bouncing.
"Fine, your room it is. The three of you should fit." Qin An didn’t mind—he had secrets in his room best kept hidden.
*Heh heh heh.*
Yage grinned triumphantly, then darted into Qin An’s room. She flipped his mattress, wrapped herself tightly in his quilt, and burrowed in.
*Meow~*
The black cat, full and energetic, dodged Qin Chan’s playful hands. It caught a familiar scent, leaped nimbly into Yage’s room, and curled beside Yuko. It licked her cheek once, then tucked itself into a ball, amber eyes closing in the dark.
Qin Chan rubbed her sleepy eyes. It was late—only sheer stubbornness kept the child awake. Eyes half-shut, she shuffled into Qin An’s room and climbed into bed.
Qin An, unaware, was still showering.
His build was perfectly balanced—neither thin nor bulky, lacking the grotesque muscles of fitness models. Yet his lean frame held boundless power. A killer’s true secret lay in muscle mastery: ordinary people used only 5% of their strength, but his clan’s forbidden techniques unlocked 100%—even more. Denser muscles meant fiercer bursts.
Wrapped in a towel, damp hair dripping, Qin An sipped warm milk. A contented sigh escaped him. *Perfect.*
As he changed into pajamas to head back—
*Thud—*
A scantily clad woman reeking of alcohol pinned him against the wall. Her generous curves heaved with each breath, cleavage starkly visible. Qin An didn’t know where to look.
"A-Auntie?" he stammered. This pose always meant trouble. A chill of dread crept up his spine.
"Call me *Sister Yuqing*! Do I look that old, Xiao An’an~?" Her fingers circled his temples.
"Sister Yuqing, I need sleep," Qin An said, hands braced on the wall, ready to bolt.
"Nope. You’re helping me. Or we’ll starve tomorrow." Ignoring his protests, she dragged him into her room.
Chaos reigned. Beer cans littered the floor; skirts and lingerie spilled across the bed.
"Didn’t I clean this before I left? How’d it get like this again?"
Qin An’s head throbbed. His so-called aunt was hopeless.
He moved to tidy up, but she clamped a hand around his neck, smothering him against her chest. "Help me with the storyboard."
Her desk held stacks of manga manuscript paper, ink, G-pens, screentone sheets, and anatomical models. Bookshelves overflowed with neatly arranged manga and light novels—entire series, pristine.
Qin An picked up nearby drafts. Only two panels were finished—no screentones, no dialogue.
"*This* is all you did this month?"
"I couldn’t help it! I took on a doujin commission." Her delicate finger pointed to sketches: two men gazing lovingly; a girl trapped by a tentacle monster, one appendage probing *uncomfortably*; two women tangled in bed sheets; a blushing couple under covers—*at least* censored, unlike the others’ uncensored, hyper-realistic… *what even was this?!*
"You call this *one* commission?"
Yage nodded cutely.
"You’re ditching your main job for pocket money?" Her main gig was a popular shoujo manga serial.
"But I *wanted* to draw it!" She bit her finger, ahoge bobbing adorably—ignoring the "epic weapons" up front.
"When’s the deadline?" Qin An sighed. Ever since she quit her research institute job two years ago, shouting, "I’ll be a NEET! A mangaka!", he’d been her unpaid assistant.
"Tomorrow."
"*Tomorrow?*"
"Yep. My editor bought me half a month already." She stuck out her tongue playfully.
(Qin An didn’t know fans already dubbed her the "Queen of Missed Deadlines". Half-month delays were routine.)
"And you’ve been hungover all week?!"
Hands clasped, she pleaded: "Pleeease, Xiao An’an~?"
"*Last* time. Seriously."
He’d lost count of how many "last times" he’d promised.
"Love you most, Xiao An’an!"
She planted a crimson lipstick kiss on his cheek. He wiped it—only saliva came off. *That kiss was imprinted on his heart. Unwipable.*
Yuqing drew fast. Her proportions were flawless, as if she’d dissected human anatomy.
By 3 a.m., she’d finished most pages. Qin An diligently inked lines and applied screentones.
Suddenly, Yuqing pulled out a slender cigarette, lit it, and inhaled deeply. Before the second puff, Qin An snatched it and crushed it out.
"I ignore your vices when I’m not around. But not in front of me."
"But I’m *sleepy*," she whined, kicking her legs like a child, rubbing her eyes.
He flicked her forehead.
"Ow!"
"I’ll make coffee. Finish up, then sleep properly."
"Okay~"
Slumped on the desk, she murmured, "Such a little man..."
