Training, public performances, stages, spotlights—a series of bewildering terms coalesced in my mind into a rather unsavory conclusion.

Given Xiao Yi’s wild imagination and chaotic theories, was Jiang Xiaoyu secretly… doing compensated dating?

Just kidding. It’s unfair to judge my sister through Bao Yu’s filthy lens. I knew the slave master who casually tossed around vulgarities was actually fiercely proud. I’d caught her scowling more than once when strangers gave me weird looks—not out of brother-complex possessiveness over her "exclusive meat pillow," but a faint trace of competitive defiance.

Why was my own sister comparing herself to me? I was literally wearing thrifted, sun-bleached tracksuits that screamed "dirt poor."

Anyway, Jiang Xiaoyu’s "tutoring class" probably wasn’t tutoring at all. Since when did teachers dress like Miss Mickey Mouse—strutting like runway models fresh off a catwalk, basking in imaginary flashbulbs? I could only pray it wasn’t some brainwashing cult.

"Whatever. Everyone’s got secrets." Remembering the shady stuff my own circle pulled, I let it go. Nothing could be scarier than Xu Xian, the current high school boy working as a host. As long as it wasn’t teenage romance, I didn’t care.

I kicked off on my bike, oblivious to two pairs of eyes watching from an office window. Once I was gone, Xiao Yu shoved the woman posing as her tutor into the glittering Starlight Media building across the street.

Pedaling home, I pondered dinner: a bucket of crayfish or grilled skewers…

Worried? Not a bit. Xiao Yu’s B-cup chest hadn’t grown in years—blame the wooden dummies at the Martial Arts Hall she used for stress relief. Her arms looked deceptively slender as burdock roots, but she was the kind of muscle-bound cutie who’d yell, "I can take on ten!"

With rare free time tonight, what to do? Log into my side hustle? No way—voice acting in falsetto exhausts me. A haircut, maybe? For the upcoming parent-teacher conference, I couldn’t show up looking like a punk. Honestly, my body still rebelled against waking before noon and skipping dinner for part-time shifts.

I slammed the brakes. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. "Wait… I forgot something."

Crap—I’d forgotten to ask Madam Lan for time off. I checked my phone: zero messages. That silence was terrifying. *Barking dogs don’t bite*, I thought. But that saying fit Madam Lan—owner and manager of *Youjia Bookstore*—perfectly.

Customers often joked about the shop’s name: "Look, there’s a bookstore." "Yeah, right before the subway station—there’s a bookstore." "Oh! That famous bookstore!" Nobody ever knew *which* bookstore.

Now I stood at the crosswalk four blocks from home. Through the elegant glass storefront, shelves of books glowed warmly. The sign simply read: *Youjia Bookstore*.

No time to rant. Pissing off Xiao Yu meant icy feet stomping my face. Pissing off Madam Lan meant hell on earth. I locked my bike and pushed the door open. Wind chimes jingled.

"Welcome—"

The greeting died cold. Behind the counter sat a sharp-featured woman in casual wear, radiating queenly disdain. Only my fully powered-up "Mom Unit" could rival her aura. Yet among married women, only Madam Lan could command a room in sweatpants.

She stopped filing her nails and stared. Her crimson lips curled into a mocking smirk. Silence pressed down on me.

"Where’s Xiao Qianqian?" I tried dodging the awkwardness of being caught skipping work by asking for her lolita daughter.

Madam Lan yawned. "Qianqian’s napping upstairs. But…" Her eyes narrowed. "What did you just call me?"

Danger signal. Women hate being called old. I swallowed hard. "Sis Qin!"

"Hmm. Three seconds to explain." She crossed her arms, smiling sweetly.

"Uh—I went to school today!"

*What kind of excuse is that?!* Even I sounded like a kid begging for a gold star. Her doe eyes flashed pure "you idiot."

"One!"

"My desk mate got her period!"

*What am I even saying—*

Her eyebrow arched. "Two!"

*Stay calm.* Truth wouldn’t work. The shop was empty—she was furious. Time to trigger her maternal instincts!

"My sister’s dating! I went to catch her red-handed!"

*Since when did I start selling out my sister to survive?!* But it worked. Sis Qin blinked, genuinely intrigued. Xiao Yu sometimes worked here, and Sis Qin was the one crocodile even she wouldn’t bite—though they oddly got along.

The countdown paused. Madam Lan pressed her lips together, fighting a smile.

"Three!"

It hadn’t worked at all. She rose from *my* stool, stretching languidly. Her curves flowed like liquid silk. "So you confess to your crimes."

I nodded gravely, face set in remorse.

"Follow me."

*It’s just being late!* I clutched my chest. "Where?"

"You’ll see."

She crooked a finger and strode into the storage room. That sway could cripple any man’s spine.

Minutes later, I slumped behind the counter, soul crushed. My uniform screamed "violated by a female boss." Madam Lan admired her handiwork like an artist, practically craving a post-coital cigarette.

"Oh my. You’ve got more potential than Xiao Yu. You *can* pull this off."

My fear of her was primal—the helplessness of a calf dragged underwater by a crocodile mid-sip. Today, I truly drowned.

"Punishment: you’ll greet customers like this from now on."

"I object!"

"You skipped work!"

"But this outfit?!"

"Quitting?"

"I quit if—"

Choking silence filled my throat. One glare from those icy eyes stole my voice.

"Silence means consent." She placed a mirror before me, cooing like a child with a new doll. "Whoa~ So cute! Don’t be shy. Smile like a lucky cat. Starting today, you’re *Youjia Bookstore*’s honorary mascot."

The mirror showed a cat-eared figure in a maid apron. Even I felt a flicker of "moe"—if not for the dead-eyed face beneath loose, shoulder-length hair.

My eye twitched. "I’m not thrilled about this… perverted mascot title."

"Eh? Why not? It suits you." Her cheeks flushed with excitement as she pinched my cheeks.

If she looked at me like this *as a man*, I’d go mad with joy and happily become Xiao Qianqian’s stepdad. But no—this was the *other* script. The demon dad plot was next door.

"Sis Qin, you’d make a great domineering CEO. Why not cosplay together?"

She pondered, then ignored me. "Hmm… missing something. A tail? I’ll find a cat tail plug."

"Eh?! P-P-Plug?! I’ll shut up! No more jokes! Please spare me that thing!"

"Pity." She genuinely looked disappointed. *Why does she flip personalities when Xiao Qianqian’s not around…?*

I forced a tearful grimace.

She licked her lips, eyes smoldering. "Passable. Makes up for today’s losses. Nine customers asked if you quit. The ninth left ten minutes ago."

"My deepest condolences for your losses!"

"Attitude’s good. Keep it up. Next time…" She left the threat hanging.

I collapsed into the chair like a broken Ge You meme. Her sickly sweet smile deepened—she was already craving my next screw-up.

A queen. A perverted queen. Why are there so many demons in this world…

I’d taken this job to help Xiao Yu and me survive hard times. Now it’d become a cage for shame plays. Is this the law of pervert gravity? I’d just discovered a theorem for deviants. Terrifying…

I stared out at the moonlit night. A pervert’s life is never lonely. And this was only my first day back at school.

I never imagined my life would twist irreversibly that summer. Was it Nan Dongye’s fault for "ending" me? I replayed every moment later, searching for the breaking point.

NO.

Nan Dongye was just the last straw. Everything had already changed around me. So really—becoming a pervert is all *your* fault.