As the clock hands neared nine, the two finally wrapped up today’s homework.

Mo Xuan exhaled softly, stretched his limbs, and twisted his neck with a series of crisp *crackles*.

Sitting beside him, Tian Sirui offered a gentle smile. “Would you like some tea? I can brew a cup.”

“No need. It’s late—I should head back.” He’d already had tea that afternoon, and lingering any longer felt awkward.

He stood to gather his books; Tian Sirui quietly helped tidy his pens.

“This notebook?” she asked, hesitating slightly.

“Take it. I don’t need it anymore. I’ve got piles of copied notes—I’ll never finish them all.” Mo Xuan exaggerated with a helpless shrug, making her lips twitch into a faint smile.

“Let me see you out.”

“It’s right next door—no need. Just call if you need anything… but don’t come knocking at midnight, okay?”

With a casual wave, Mo Xuan slung his backpack over his shoulder and strode toward the door. Tian Sirui hurried after him, opening it for him.

Just as he turned to say more, a sharp *screech* of brakes shattered the street’s quiet.

Amid disgruntled neighbors flinging windows open, the two exchanged glances—a shared heaviness settling in their chests.

What else could make that obnoxious, sleep-shattering screech but Tian Yixuan’s motorcycle?

Had the little rascal not gone completely off the rails? He actually remembered to come home?

Though he was her own brother, just thinking of him tightened Tian Sirui’s chest—a bittersweet ache of sorrow and helplessness. Her smile vanished.

She couldn’t hit him, couldn’t scold him, and reason fell on deaf ears. Telling their parents changed nothing. Powerless, she could only hope he stayed out of real trouble.

Hearing thundering footsteps on the stairs, Mo Xuan guessed the kid was either starving or seething.

He’d meant to leave—but seeing Tian Sirui’s distressed, confused expression, he paused.

This brother never listened to his sister. If things turned ugly, Mo Xuan could step between them.

A scrawny, short guy with a permanent scowl appeared. His vocational school uniform was knotted at his waist; a questionable long-sleeve shirt covered his torso. Deliberately grown-out hair hung messily over his neck.

That messy dark-gold dye job had cost over a thousand yuan—Tian Sirui had been heartbroken, too scared to tell their parents.

He always glared at everyone like they’d offended him… unless he was with those street thugs he called “big brothers,” acting like a lackey running errands.

From those narrowed eyes, Mo Xuan read pure contempt. *What gives you the right?*

Blocked at the doorway, Tian Yixuan snorted dismissively and shouldered past Mo Xuan.

Tian Sirui gasped, rushing to steady him.

Mo Xuan’s face darkened, but he calmly held back the flustered girl and followed inside.

Trembling with worry, Tian Sirui hurried after them, softening her voice: “You must be hungry. I saved dinner—braised chicken wings, your favorite…”

Tian Yixuan snatched the plate, slammed it onto the book-strewn table, grabbed a cold wing, and chewed loudly, ignoring everyone.

She’d made six wings total: two for Mo Xuan, her own two untouched—saved just for him. Not a word of thanks.

“The food’s cold. Let me reheat it…” Tian Sirui reached for the bowl.

“Don’t touch it! Who cares if it’s cold?!” Tian Yixuan snapped, head jerking up, spittle nearly hitting her face.

Tian Sirui froze—caught between forcing a smile and none at all. Utterly awkward.

Mo Xuan had had enough.

He’d held back out of respect for her. But this brat crossed the line. Swallow this, and he might as well spell his name backward tomorrow.

*Family—and you yell? Think volume makes you tough? Never saw you yell back when those “big brothers” boss you around. What kind of man shouts at his own sister? She saved your favorite meal. Just offering to reheat it—what’s wrong with that?*

Fists clenched, Mo Xuan stepped forward.

Tian Sirui lunged between them, shaking her head sorrowfully. *Don’t.*

Though hurt, she couldn’t let them clash—one was her neighbor, the other her blood. Both mattered.

Halfway through his meal, Tian Yixuan turned with a scoff, shooting Mo Xuan a mocking glare. Rice grains clung to his lip.

Outmatched in size? Sure. But *he* had backup. Piss him off, and he’d flatten this Qingyuan High senior in seconds. He didn’t fear the neighbor one bit.

Smugly, he raised an eyebrow—a provocation just short of flipping the bird.

Worried Tian Sirui would get dragged in, Mo Xuan swallowed his rage. His voice trembled:

“You’re getting worse, Tian Yixuan.”

“Your sister worries sick you’ll get hurt outside. She cooks your favorites *every day* and saves them. How can you treat her like this?”

“Spend less time with those people. Come home earlier. Help her. She’s carrying this house alone.”

He spoke sincerely—not for Tian Yixuan, but because he couldn’t stand seeing Tian Sirui suffer.

Not all neighbors clicked. With her, he laughed and studied. With this kid? Not even a full sentence.

So why care about someone irrelevant?

If Tian Yixuan got into trouble tomorrow? Mo Xuan wouldn’t blink. Might even smirk passing by.

But… had Tian Sirui skipped the college entrance exam *because* of him? If yes—he couldn’t stay silent.

Silence filled the room. Tian Sirui faced Mo Xuan, lashes lowered, cheeks flushed. Behind her, Tian Yixuan remained utterly indifferent.

“Hey,” he muttered, spitting out a chicken bone, “you trying to chase my sister?”

“If you are—hurry up. Take her away. Save me from her nagging.”

If Tian Sirui hadn’t clung to Mo Xuan’s waist, sobbing *“Don’t!”*, he’d have lunged to unleash a Meteor Fist.

He’d seen jerks. Never *this* despicable.

Heard harsh words. Never *this* vile.

As she wept against him, confusion gripped him. *What happened between them? Why treat his own sister like trash?* The rift felt unnatural—a mystery he *had* to solve to understand her fate.

Later, Mo Xuan couldn’t recall how he left. Only Tian Sirui’s tear-streaked face remained: bowing repeatedly at the door, voice choked with apology.

Back in his dim, empty living room, he tossed his backpack onto the sofa and sank into silence.

Even through the closed door, muffled shouts drifted over—Tian Sirui pleading, Tian Yixuan snapping back.

*Just like last life.*

Back then, he hadn’t noticed. He’d greeted her on the balcony each morning, watered each other’s plants, shared meals and washed dishes, then returned home at dusk to study.

He’d grown used to her presence. Only after her family vanished post-exams—*vanished without a trace*—did he realize how deeply she’d marked six short years. The ache lingered.

Later, time with Yun Jiumo slowly dulled the memory.

Under the hazy night sky, Mo Xuan stared blankly upward.

Clouds drifted. Slowly.

Until the faint moon disappeared behind them.