When I ditched Nan Dongye and floored it to City No.1 High School’s gate, the empty entrance stood deserted.

I pulled out my phone. No missed calls. No WeChat messages. Just eerie calm. Thirty minutes had passed since my ultimatum.

This wasn’t a good sign. Calm before the storm always bites hardest. I wiped my sweat and nervously texted:

“Aren’t you out yet?”

Xiaoyu wasn’t dumb—she was sharp. She knew I couldn’t make it in ten minutes, so she wouldn’t wait like a fool. I just hoped she was delayed, letting me pretend I’d admired the scenery forever.

“Your Ancestors Are All Merfolk” replied: “Almost there.”

I let out a slight sigh of relief. By sheer luck, I’d just unlocked the “first-time girls’ bathroom entry” achievement. If I’d been late, Nan Dongye’s refined professor dad might’ve walked in and bumped into the Student Council President. And I’d have sweated through an endless wait after racing here.

Soon, two lovely figures emerged from the half-closed automatic gate.

They’d been chatting and laughing, but fell silent the moment they spotted me—the sore thumb in the crowd.

“Here at last?”

Jiang Xiaoyu shot me a cold glance, her smirk dripping with mockery. She’d figured it out.

Was it my expression? Or the sweat on my face?

My scalp tingled as I muttered, “Yeah.”

The gentle girl beside Xiaoyu beamed up at me. “Hello, Sister Wuque! I’m Mu Zhixuan, Xiaoyu’s classmate!”

Sister? Sister Wuque?! She’d botched both my name and gender!

I opened my mouth to correct her—then froze. Behind Mu Zhixuan, the slave master slid a finger slowly down her neck, a chilling smirk curling her lips.

Execution on the spot!? Since when does a sister force her brother to be a pervert? Under Jiang Xiaoyu, I was so exploited I couldn’t even keep my name or gender.

I grimaced. “H-hello.”

On the sidewalk, two figures—one tall, one short—walked side by side. Mu Zhixuan needed the nearest subway, so we shared half the route. I pushed my bike, my domineering little sister perched atop it like the food chain’s apex predator. To my left, Mu Zhixuan nibbled her ice cream cone.

“I’m so sorry to trouble you with a treat on our first meeting,” she said, dimples flashing.

I forced a smile. “No problem.”

My wallet was Jiang Xiaoyu’s wallet. The damn slave master, seeing my hands full, “kindly” skipped buying me one. She let me sweat under the setting sun, pushing the bike, leaving her a pleasantly feudal silhouette. If this bike had three wheels, she’d have invited Mu Zhixuan to enjoy the show.

“Sister Wuque, are you in high school too?”

“Yeah. Senior year.”

“Only one year older? Wow, you look like a mature big sister—so reliable!”

Mu Zhixuan blinked, a trace of admiration in her eyes. Subtler than a teacher’s praise, but still awful. Worst part? I had to keep nodding.

“Xiaoyu rarely talks about family. Without today, I’d never know she had such a beautiful sister.”

This polite chatter annoyed me like the sun’s last gasp trying to scorch the earth. Birds of a feather flock together—pretty girls befriend pretty girls. Otakus befriend… well.

To keep the backseat brat—who played the virtuous lady for classmates—from getting comfy, I smiled like a mature woman. “Don’t joke about ‘pretty,’ Xuan. First time anyone’s praised me in front of Xiaoyu. At my lazy school, girls like you two have diplomatic immunity.”

I disgusted myself saying it. Xiaoyu couldn’t stay unmoved. She stuck out her tongue, shaking off goosebumps, and mouthed:

“Hypocrite!”

I turned and mouthed back: “Same to you!”

Truth was, I’d never praised her once—not while hitting dummies, not during video games. My mouth only spat insults. Once, I even mocked her for not peeing as far as me, discovering she lacked a dick.

Her first reaction? Pure confusion. She cried for three days straight, feeling broken. Dad beat me raw. Then Xiaoyu learned the world has two kinds of people. Later, she’d tug my dick in the bath, asking what it was.

Ah, ancient history. Back then, Xiaoyu copied everything from me—even peeing posture. No wonder she splashed in place while I went far… I felt a twinge of guilt now.

But by the time I remembered I was her brother, it was too late. We weren’t enemies, just distant. If I’d praised her more, would we have a pure, loving bond now? The book title might’ve changed.

Anyway, this ill-mannered slave master was my fault. Uncontrollable for now…

While my thoughts drifted, Mu Zhixuan said earnestly, “No way. Boys like Xiaoyu, but next to you, Sister Wuque, she lacks something.”

Lacks… something? A dick?

If Xiaoyu had one, she’d match that devil perfectly…

Mu Zhixuan’s expression was flawless—like a talent show judge. No cracks. Was she genuinely praising me? My embarrassment might turn cancerous.

“No way, Xuan. What’s she lacking?” I blurted.

“Call me Xuan’er!” She tilted her head. “Hmm… hard to explain. A feeling. Like… femininity?”

Go die. Seriously, just go die. My sister’s brutally honest best friend—I hated your dead-serious nonsense type.

I sighed at the sky. What cursed day was this? Why did everyone hammer the same point?

“Tch…”

I clearly heard Xiaoyu’s disgruntled hiss behind me. She was actually listening to Mentor Mu’s analysis—as if shouting “I WANT YOU” while turning for me.

The world was against me. That was my conclusion.