After dinner—or to be precise, after I finished feeding the big sis and the little sis—Sis Qian plunked a thick stack of documents down on the table with a loud thud. She went straight into work mode right across from me, while I was still clearing away the leftovers. Lian, as if she’d finally gotten bored of tormenting the “wizard”, curled up beside me with her tablet, watching some long‑legged oppa and a Korean idol couple go through life‑and‑death drama. Only at times like this do I feel this little sister has the slightest bit of brain‑dead fangirl femininity.

My right knee suddenly sank a little for no reason. On my right, Ouyang Lian, apparently trying to sit more comfortably at the table, had just casually crossed her bare feet onto my leg. She didn’t even glance at me, her face full of “of course I can,” like a homeowner who doesn’t feel the need to notify their furniture every time they use it.

Could you maybe go sit on the sofa to play?

I was chewing on the last piece of chicken butt and just about to say that when my left thigh suddenly gained more weight. That familiar soft, springy feeling—an endlessly rolling, slender calf. There were only three people at this table; I didn’t need to look to know it was the same old trick from the big sis.

She blinked her right eye at me without changing her expression, halfway between a scold and a pout, like she was trying to hint at something. Her pen, however, never stopped moving for a second.

Even if you throw sultry looks at me, and even if you’re not as shameless as your little sister, who’s happily smacking her hard ankle into me, there’s no way I’m giving you a massage while I’m eating cold leftovers!

I wrapped all that long‑winded information into a single, vicious eye roll and hurled it back at her.

The one who’s supposed to be clinging to my leg and acting spoiled should be the little sister. An onee‑sama should have some queenly dignity, sit there giving orders like a queen. How come all the brats these days swagger around like they’re in charge, while Sis Qian, a soon‑to‑be college graduate, keeps acting cutesy and pretending to be younger?

The round little calf was rolling more and more wildly, and its hard‑ankled owner got so into it she actually started shaking her leg like crazy. I tugged at the corner of my mouth and smacked my chopsticks down on my bowl.

“Hey, do you two not have anywhere else to go? You just have to squeeze in here and get in the way? Or is it that you’re planning on washing the dishes later?”

Maybe because neither of them lifted their heads, my only response was the tablet’s garbled foreign language and the scratch of pen on paper. The two of them looked very focused on their tasks, acting like they were taking it seriously.

But at least those restless feet quietly withdrew. Fine, they wouldn’t give me face, but their actions still supported the Party line. I’ll endure it!

I’d barely picked up my chopsticks again when my right leg sank once more, and my left leg was back to being treated like a chunk of pork belly on the chopping board. Classic “if the enemy advances, I retreat; if the enemy retreats, I pursue” cling‑to‑the‑death tactics. I shook my head helplessly. At this rate, I wasn’t just the cook, I was the sofa too. If Mom had told me she wouldn’t be home tonight, I wouldn’t have come over to be slaughtered here even if you beat me to death…

Still, quiet, one‑on‑two time like this with Sis Qian and Lian is actually rare. At least it’s way better than the first time we met, when we sat around a suffocatingly awkward table. Back then, Xiaoyu’s anger didn’t even bother to look for an excuse; it was just there, raw. Lian’s cold, dismissive looks were pretty much her default setting. But now, when people talk about our “happy, exciting, heart‑warming blended family,” the first word that pops into the neighbors’ minds is exactly the one I hate most.

Perfect.

A beautiful, capable wife. A CEO husband at a famous foreign company. Four well‑bred, gentle, elegant young ladies at home. Two pairs of sisters from different families somehow managing to live under the same roof in rare harmony. “Blissful and complete” would hardly be an exaggeration.

That’s right… In all the whispering and pointing at the beginning, the only thing everyone agreed on was that there were two pairs of sisters from different families. That alone got unanimous approval. It was then that I, who used to firmly believe “rumors stop at the wise,” truly felt the pressure of public opinion. While I marveled at how many idiots this world could produce, my hatred for that shallow “perfect” effect always came with a faint trace of awe.

For example, Xu Lingzhu’s “evergreen goddess” nickname, which she always scoffs at, is giving me a massive headache right now. I still have no idea how to deal with it.

Thinking about it that way, the big bad wolf Jiang Xiaoyu, who hides under the pelt of an honor student, and Sis Qian, who’s flawless at handling people and social situations, must’ve accidentally spared themselves a lot of trouble—and also avoided a few small secrets along the way?

Of course, that’s all just baseless speculation. Because there was once a Sorceress who perfectly embodied the word “perfect.” If there are a thousand Ran Zitongs in the hearts of a thousand people, then back then I must’ve been head‑over‑heels in love with all of her. Even the one thousand and first face hidden deep down.

Once I thought of her, irritation started creeping over me for no reason. I wasn’t even sure why. Maybe it was because Madam Nalan had seen through my façade. Maybe because the old priest had seen through my nature. Or maybe it was Nan Dongye’s stubbornness that was starting to shake me.

Anyway, what I’m trying to say is: what you see with your own eyes isn’t necessarily real. This world is fake. And it keeps forcing everyone to evolve to be just as fake. So what’s a broken, incomplete person supposed to do in a fake world to search for the truth? I don’t know. But I really want to know.

“Ah—!”

Sis Qian bit her lip and glared at me, her eyes glistening with tears. In the next instant she snapped her gaze back down to her notebook. Thank goodness she didn’t prop her other foot up as well, or she’d have noticed that the other contested territory under the table had already been quietly occupied.

Crap, I’d zoned out again and slipped into philosopher mode. Guiltily, I softened my gaze and eased up the strength in my hand just a little…

Mm. The feel is amazing. Even through the stockings I could feel her skin’s smooth, springy texture. Or actually, it’s precisely because of the stockings that it felt even more addictive. Wait. Hold on. What the hell is going on?

I stared blankly for a moment. The two feet on my right had already become as obedient and quiet as their owner. Meanwhile, at some point, my own hand had started massaging Sis Qian’s soles all on its own.

I hadn’t noticed at all. Since when!?

Cold sweat started beading on my forehead.

A horrifying thought struck me: under the slave‑driver’s training, had I really become an impeccable piece of meat—no, an excellent slave!?

This problem felt a hundred times more serious than all that previous messy nonsense combined!

The scariest part was that I seemed to be enjoying it. I let out a heavy sigh, my expression solemn… Humans really are born with a slave’s nature, huh.

“Huh? Where’s Jiang Xiaoyu? She’s not here?”

Ouyang Lian was sprawled across a cushion, arms stretched out lazily like a bird, feet crossed under the table. Because her chest was so flat, the tablet could rest perfectly steady right in front of her retinas. I called this cross‑shaped prayer pose the “Ouyang Slump.” She finally realized she seemed to be missing her usual bickering target.

“Watch your mouth. Xiaoyu’s your big sister too.”

“She’s definitely not here. If she was, she would’ve already crawled out of the TV like Sadako, without a sound,” Lian muttered to herself, giving a little shiver.

That logic wasn’t wrong. Normally, if I wasn’t home cooking by this time, I’d be eating some kind of “Earth Special Combo” when I got back. Plus, before the slave‑driver left, she’d nagged me a thousand times—and threatened me on top of that—not to come to the “new home” to hang around this “hostess bar” and flirt with those fickle women (big sis, little sis, and Her Majesty Mom)…

“Well, okay then. One of your sisters is a milk cow, and the other’s Sadako. That makes me being the cook not that embarrassing,” I shrugged, trying to stand up and clear the dishes—and incidentally escape the tiger’s den. But both my legs felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. Wherever the pressure was coming from, the message was the same: You’re not allowed to leave.

Lian let out a weight‑lifting‑bar‑like laugh. Sis Qian, who had been pretending to be one with her notebook, finally couldn’t take it anymore. Her calf rose and fell like a mallet pounding mochi, trying to vent some dissatisfaction on me.

“Smart mouth.” She twirled the pen around her nimble fingers, smiled slightly, and said, “So, how’s your little girlfriend? Is she mad at me, hubby?”

“Hubby? Little girlfriend? What’s that about?”

Lian pushed herself up, glancing left and right, her two short pigtails swinging wildly. She even forgot about her Ouyang Slump. This was the sign: whenever she smelled something fishy, inspiration started bubbling up.

Not good. Not good at all. With Sis Qian fanning the flames, things were heading straight into dangerous territory. Let a school troublemaker find out about Nan Dongye and it feels like something very bad is going to explode. I couldn’t let this keep going!

“Hee hee…”

Ouyang Qian shut her file folder and gave a pointed little cough. She slowly opened her mouth, but what came out of those rosy lips was a sharp, tragic wail. Her whole body curled up like a shrimp.

My thumb pressing into the sole of her foot worked wonders. I immediately picked up the cue. “I just went shopping for some stuff with a classmate. We happened to bump into Qian, who brought her walking credit card. She was only joking, weren’t you, Sis Qian?”

“Really?” Lian looked at Sis Qian, doubtful.

I caught hold of that slender ankle, trembling like a shrimp and trying to escape. I adjusted my strength and gently kneaded it, like I was serving some purebred Persian cat. My face was the very picture of the gentle little brother I was supposed to be.

Sis Qian lowered her head, and her face instantly flushed bright red. Cornered, she gave a tiny nod.

“Shopping?”

I nodded.

“Alone with a girl classmate?”

Another nod.

“At this time, on the weekend?”

I nodded so hard my head almost fell off.

Ouyang Lian rested her chin on her hand and stared at me intently. “See? That’s totally a date.”

As expected of biological sisters—they both came to the same conclusion in record time…

“You’re overthinking it.”

“So who is she?”

“She’s really just a normal friend.”

“From Evergreen? Do I know her?”

“You could at least listen to what people are saying…”

Lian racked her brains, trying to mentally search through all possible candidates for her “big brother’s girlfriend.” Suddenly she slapped her forehead. “Ah! It must be that girl who was sitting on the back of your bike that day. I remember she’s in the drama club…”

I quickly clapped my hand over her mouth and whispered, “Keep messing around and I’m not helping you clear the next boss in your game.”

“Tch! Stingy! Fine, I won’t ask. It’s not like I’m the one who’s dying to know anyway.”

Lian pouted and let out a reluctant huff. But the other big sis, who had just slipped free of my clutches, wasn’t letting it go so easily. The expression on her face wasn’t annoyance or anger, though. It was something strange, impossible to put into words. She hugged her knees and perched on the stool in a squat, silent. When she occasionally glanced at me, her eyes were full of emotions I couldn’t read.

The three of us stared at one another for a while. Then our gazes slid away, and we all pretended to go back to what we were doing.

Weird. Did these two take the wrong meds today? Why are they especially hard to deal with? They actually stayed glued to the table after dinner instead of leaving. Was it just “no tiger at home, so the monkeys rule the mountain,” or was there some other conspiracy?

While I washed the dishes, I still couldn’t spot any suspicious trap in the house. My head was starting to ache again. I’d thought the big sis and little sis would be easier to get along with once we got used to each other, but it turned out the more familiar they got, the crazier they became. If I’d known it would be like this, I might as well have stayed at the Martial Arts Hall to serve just one slave‑driver.

I couldn’t help sighing. On the first night without Jiang Xiaoyu at home, I’d somehow already started missing her for no reason.