Chen Mo’s younger sister, Chen Ying, was 17, a high school sophomore standing 167cm tall. With short hair, long legs, and a dark, edgy aesthetic, she was fiercely scheming and sharp-tongued—a hardcore otaku steeped in anime culture who loved cosplay. The only thing that comforted Chen Mo was that she wasn’t into BL; her values were perfectly normal.
Raised solely by Chen Mo, she’d picked up manga skills along the way. Now, she assisted him while he covered her living expenses for forbidden hobbies. Her main role? Refining his rough drafts and line art. They handled coloring together: Chen Mo tackled backgrounds, while Chen Ying focused on character outfits and shading.
Perhaps due to innate talent, Chen Mo’s fan-favorite art style owed much to her coloring. No matter the scene, it always carried a subtle sensuality. Blending innocent charm with a hint of lust, the two elements merged seamlessly—leaving most fans utterly hooked.
When others drew a kiss, it was just closed eyes and lips lightly touching, maybe a blush. Chen Ying’s version? Saliva strings, tiny tongues, flushed cheeks, fingers clutching clothes, legs squeezing tight—every detail dialed to eleven. First-time viewers often wondered: Was this a pure love comic or an adult doujin? She especially excelled at yuri fluff.
Yeah, she could draw lewd art too.
Beyond that, she aced her grades. Despite her nasty streak, she knew when to behave—truly an excellent sister. If only she’d ditch the scheming tongue, she’d be the nation’s dream sibling. Yet this near-perfect sister made Chen Mo wish someone would just take her off his hands.
Like now. Chen Mo woke to find her fiddling with his hair. After three months unconscious—plus recovery time—he hadn’t cut it. It was long enough for a ponytail, girl-style.
After a moment, Chen Ying released his hair. Seeing him awake, she turned serious. “Bro, don’t move!”
Chen Mo shot her a glare.
She got even more excited, whipping out her phone. “Yes! That disgusted look—so tsundere, so irresistible. Aaaah, I’m dead!” *Snap!* She snapped a photo, grinning as she showed him. “Check my handiwork!”
Chen Mo’s face darkened. The nurse had kept his hair tidy, but now? Twin side ponytails.
*A real man like me—in twin tails?*
*Next, will she force me into a dress?*
He looked away. “Your creepy hobbies haven’t faded. If I could move, I’d punch you.”
“Ew, hitting girls? Bro, you’re worse than me.”
“Thanks. Still half as nasty as you.” Chen Mo rolled his eyes. His body felt better than last night. “Call Doctor Ge. Lying flat sucks.”
“Fine.” Chen Ying stuck out her tongue, pocketing her phone before heading out.
She returned quickly with Ge Yihai, who looked as exhausted as ever. Every time Chen Mo saw him, he seemed sleep-deprived—and today, slightly flustered.
“Doctor Ge, did I interrupt something? Sorry my sister dragged you here. I’ll scold her.”
Chen Ying froze, then glared. “Don’t lie! He was just gaming—”
“Ahem!” Ge Yihai cut her off, approaching Chen Mo. “Just finished treating a patient. Never mind that—my sister said you hate lying down?” He frowned, checking the monitors.
Chen Mo shifted his head. “I’m recovering fast. I could hold things now.”
Compared to yesterday, he truly felt better. On waking day one, breathing without oxygen tubes was impossible. Now, his voice was clear, the tubes gone, and he managed small movements. He glanced at Chen Ying. “Pass your phone.”
“Don’t delete my photo!” She handed it over. He held it easily.
Ge Yihai stroked his chin, reviewing data. “Recovery’s unusually quick. At this rate, you’ll eat light meals in two days. Out of bed under two weeks.”
Chen Mo had wondered about the system’s “70% recovery” metric. Clearly, it was high. Normal humans couldn’t hit 100%—that’d be god-tier, germ-free perfection.
Ge Yihai spoke again. “One more full checkup. If all’s good, we’ll advance treatment.” The data baffled him; this case could fuel new papers.
After an hour of tests, Chen Mo finally sat propped against the bedhead. Phone use was allowed briefly—but not for long. At last, he felt human again. Being in his own body, not Luo Xianxue’s, felt lighter, even while weak.
Once the doctor left, Chen Mo asked Chen Ying, “Did you bring my phone?”
She shook her head slightly. “Why would I?”
“Never mind. I wanted you to update our comic. Since I can use phones now, go fetch mine.”
Chen Ying blinked. “Using me as a tool?”
“Aren’t you one?”
“What?! I rushed here at dawn to care for you! You don’t appreciate it—you’re kicking me out for a *phone*?” Her eyes welled up unexpectedly. “Stupid brother! Did you forget our promise?!”
