"Having an older brother really is the best! I wish I could swap you with that flirtatious cow. Then I’d finally get a decent caretaker instead of eating dark cuisine every day."

Lian patted my shoulder reassuringly before shoving me off the plush mattress. It was nearly midnight.

"I seem to recall someone standing with Jiang Xiaoyu, mocking me and Sister Qian," I said, shrugging as I slipped on my slippers. Yawning, I stepped over scattered manga volumes littering the floor.

Fetching a soda for my little sister—despite her frequent "domestic violence"—was hardly a chore. I’d swallow this flattery. At least this brat knew her place: a pampered, flat-chested homebody. Far better than Xiaoyu, who’d roll up her sleeves and "kindly" watch me slave away.

"Little Lian was just a naive kid back then, *oniichan*..." Her eyebrows fluttered slightly. She clasped her hands over her chest like a guilty child, gazing up at me. That honeyed "*oniichan*" made me forget the highway robbery of my snacks and her pancake-flat figure. For a moment, she almost seemed... cute.

"N-No," I muttered, cheeks warming. *So underhanded!* Only when she needed something did she unleash the full force of her cuteness. I pushed the door open, forgetting the little monster who’d called me "scum" three years ago. *Having a sister who knows how to act cute really is the best... even if she’s not actually cute.*

"Ehehe, good!" she chirped. "Safe trip! Oh—and skip the Diet Pepsi on the second shelf. I want regular Pepsi. That little cow’s gained weight lately and’s been stressed. Seriously, how is Coke even *called* cola?!"

"Yeah, yeah. So picky."

The fridge door had barely opened when my phone buzzed—a call from the last person I wanted to hear from: that damn blond idiot, Jiang Lan.

"Jiang Lan?" I snapped. "Spit it out."

"Haha... n-not anything major! Just... where are you right now?" His stammering laugh was utterly unlike him. There was tension in his voice too. Weren’t he and Baoyu, Xiaoyi out having fun?

"Home. Obviously. It’s midnight."

"*Really?!*"

Another voice cut in—more frantic than Xu Xian or Yan Qing’s, like he’d seen a ghost.

"*Yes*, really! What do you want?"

An eerie silence followed. Then Xu Xian pressed on: "You’re *sure* you’re home?"

"I’m hanging up."

"W-wait! Okay, fine... *cough*... Are you absolutely *not* in Shanghai right now?"

"Why would I go to that garbage dump where humans pile up like trash? Crowds are the worst."

"You *definitely* haven’t been to the Mercedes-Benz Arena today? Not even... near the stage? The spotlights? Nothing at all rings a bell?"

Nonsense. Were they idiots? If I’d had a Nokia brick phone, I’d have smashed it. Wait—that unknown idol group’s concert was *there*? Sounded impressive. Why had I never heard of them? Was I falling behind?

"What would I *do* there?! You’ve been spouting gibberish since this call started. If I *were* there, I’d beat you three until you couldn’t walk!"

Xu Xian lowered his voice carefully: "Look... we get it. A guy dressing like *that*, singing and dancing in a fake voice—it’s embarrassing. Just tell us the truth. Are you backstage removing your makeup? We won’t tell anyone!"

"*Huh?*"

"It’s no big deal! We won’t judge. Didn’t you see how crazy the fans were today?"

"Exactly!" another voice chimed in. "I *knew* you had potential! You outshone every girl out there. Seriously, who knew you’d have that kind of guts? Oh—and were you wearing contacts? Your eyes looked ice-blue!"

The three of them took turns jabbering into the phone, snickering. My patience snapped. I didn’t care what bizarre game they were playing.

*Dressing like what? Singing?* They sounded understanding, but rage simmered under my skin. *Why would I be backstage removing makeup?! This makes zero sense!*

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," I said, forcing my voice sweet. "*But*—be at school early Monday. Every. Single. One. Of. You." My teeth ground so hard the threat vibrated through the mic. All three fell silent.

I slammed the phone down. Grabbing two ice-cold Pepsis from the freezer, I cracked one open. The fizzy chill refreshed me to my core—but a nagging thought lingered. What *had* those idiots meant? They went to see an idol group... how did *I* get tangled in this?

*Whatever. I’ll just beat them all up Monday. None of my business.*

I crept back upstairs, guided by moonlight spilling through the hallway window. Then—a sharp shout erupted from the room beside me. I froze.

Behind the door plastered with "DANGER: KEEP OUT" stickers, Ouyang Qian’s voice sliced through the quiet. She was clearly furious, though trying to rein it in. What could upset someone as composed as Sister Qian? I nudged the door open a crack.

There she was—still in her bathrobe, damp hair wrapped in a towel. Phone clutched in one hand, she sat stiffly on the edge of her bed, chin propped on her palm. She scribbled numbers on a notepad, then sighed heavily.

Her eyes suddenly lifted. Straight at the door. A slow, dangerous smirk curled her lips.

"*Come in.*"

The creature called "older sister" crooked her finger.