As we were talking, Auntie Cai came upstairs with a key.

"Here’s the key. Open the door yourselves."

She handed it to us.

I took it. "Auntie Cai, aren’t you coming in with us?"

"My soup’s still on the stove. You kids talk things over with Xiaoxi."

With that, she gave us a thumbs-up and headed downstairs.

I slid the key into the lock, pressed the handle, and pushed the door open. I stepped inside first, Tianyao right behind me.

"So dark."

Xiaoxi’s room was pitch-black—curtains drawn tight over the window. Evening light should’ve seeped in, but not a trace made it through.

The only glow came from a computer screen by the window. A small shadow blocked half the light, accompanied by a faint *rustling*.

"*Heh heh heh…*"

That creepy giggle raised goosebumps. That otaku-ish loli voice? Definitely Xiaoxi.

"Xiaoxi, what’s with this? Why’s it so dark?" I grumbled, stepping forward—

*Crunch.*

Something squished under my slipper. Liquid soaked through my sock.

"Whoa! What was that?!"

Xiaoxi hadn’t noticed us enter. My shout startled her. She leapt up from her desk.

"Z-Zong Jun?! How’d you get in? Who let you?!"

"Auntie Cai gave us the key. We just unlocked the—" I paused, wiggling my damp foot. "Seriously, what *was* that? My sock’s soaked. Gross."

Too dark to see, I fumbled for the light switch on the wall.

"Don’t turn it on!" Xiaoxi yelped—but too late.

*Click.*

Light flooded the room.

Xiaoxi froze. Her messy hair spilled over a rumpled beige crop top. No pants. Just cartoonish blue-and-white striped panties plastered with Mickey Mouse, her bare thighs gleaming under the sudden brightness.

"*Ahhh!*"

She shrieked, diving onto the bed and yanking a tangled blanket over herself.

Tianyao instantly clamped both hands over my eyes. "Zong Jun! You can’t look!"

Like I *wanted* to! Those childish panties? High schoolers should act their age.

Still, I blurted, "Sorry! Didn’t mean to!"

"I *told* you not to turn on the light! From now on, I’m calling you ‘Zong Jun the Panty Peeping Tom’!"

"Nobody has a nickname that long! And you *were* wearing a top!"

My retort missed the mark. Panic scrambled my thoughts.

Xiaoxi’s eyes narrowed. "Fine. ‘Man-whore’ is shorter."

"Can you *stop* calling me that? I apologized!"

"If ‘sorry’ worked, we wouldn’t need cops!"

"..."

Tianyao kept her palms glued over my eyes. Her silence felt heavy as our bickering filled the room. Her fingers dug into my eye sockets, stinging.

After some frantic rustling, Xiaoxi snapped, "I’m decent *now*."

Tianyao finally let go. I rubbed my sore eyes, blinking away stars.

Clothes and snack wrappers littered the floor. Dust coated the tiles, stained with soy-sauce splotches. Used pajamas and underwear lay crumpled on the bed. Manga covers and light novel art plastered the walls—all featuring flat-chested loli girls. Clearly Xiaoxi’s work.

My foot had crushed a discarded instant noodle cup. Broth oozed from its flattened remains, soaking my slipper.

Xiaoxi sat stiffly on the bed’s edge, face flushed, hastily shoving underwear under the blanket. She glared at me. "Why are you here? And who’s *she*?"

"Because you skipped school. The class rep came to check on you. I just tagged along."

Tianyao stood beside me, staring blankly at the desk.

I followed her gaze. Empty drink bottles cluttered the surface. The monitor displayed rough sketch lines—a half-finished draft. But beside it sat a professional drawing tablet, its screen glowing with Xiaoxi’s nearly complete illustration.

Exquisite linework. The character’s personality leapt off the screen. Unfilled backgrounds gave it depth. No wonder she had fans.

*But let’s not forget:* Xiaoxi was the artist who once submitted *hentai doujin* as character references. This illustration?

The girl was fully nude.

Artistic nudity, sure—like Renaissance sculptures celebrating feminine curves. Venus de Milo. Liberty Leading the People. Masterpieces.

Unless the nude figure was arched in a *very* compromising pose, face twisted in near-orgasmic ecstasy.

*That* was Xiaoxi’s drawing.

Tianyao finally tore her eyes away, cheeks burning crimson. She stammered, barely audible:

"...What *is* that?"