Zhong Xi’s gaze softened with pity as she looked at her brother.

Brother Quick-shot would never satisfy his girlfriend. Dismissed, scorned—a breakup was inevitable.

How many tragic couples had split over this, losing love and savings alike? Phone news feeds shouted it daily.

Health is real capital. Everyone, pace yourselves.

If they stayed together? Worse. Old Wang next door would swoop in, leaving him crowned with a vast green prairie.

A girlfriend this stunning? Endless suitors. Brother Green-hat’s title? Unshakable.

If Zhong Cheng knew the wild soap opera unfolding in his sister’s head, he’d flick her forehead without hesitation.

“Stop scrolling nonsense news! Study properly! All that clickbait—why can’t you see?”

“Are your parents home?” the Ghost Emperor asked suddenly.

“No. They’re away for the National Day holiday—might not return at all,” his sister replied.

“I see… This humble servant had hoped to pay respects to my husband’s parents,” the Ghost Emperor murmured, a trace of regret in her voice.

She carried the shy, courteous grace of a bride meeting her in-laws—a genuinely polite spirit.

Zhong Cheng almost smiled imagining his parents’ faces: *Our son brought home such a beauty?*

Would they slip him extra allowance?

…Nah. If they learned her true identity, they’d faint.

Thankfully, they were gone. Safe. For now.

“Sister Weiwei, why so formal? It’s cute—but adding a ‘moe’ trait on purpose?” Zhong Xi tilted her head.

“Does this humble servant speak oddly?” the Ghost Emperor blinked, utterly unaware.

“Not odd. Just… uniquely charming,” Zhong Xi grinned.

“Then this humble servant shall try to adjust.”

Zhong Cheng watched them chatter, speechless.

Since when did his sister cozy up to a stranger this fast? *Sister Weiwei*?? Nicknames already?

When would *he* get a “Brother Zhong Cheng”?

She kept scooting closer, chirping “sis,” like a short-haired cat starved for attention suddenly overeager.

She didn’t even grasp—this “girl” was a ghost. One breath, and *poof*. Gone.

Zhong Cheng’s pulse spiked. *Don’t offend her. Don’t slip up.*

Earlier, when parents were mentioned, his stomach tightened. Polite? Sure. But what lurked beneath?

What if she targeted his family to control *him*?

Paranoid? Maybe. But with the Ghost Emperor? He had to assume the worst.

Watching his sister spill every family detail… he couldn’t take it.

More leverage for her. Less freedom for him.

He nudged her subtly. When she glanced over, he pointed to his WeChat screen:

*Stop oversharing. No personal info. Keep distance. Sit straight. NO CUDDLING.*

She snatched her phone, tapped furiously:

[*Mind your business! Jealous I like Sister Weiwei? Quick-shot Brother, scram. Drop you, Rem.jpg*]

Damn it!

Biting the hand that feeds her. He warned her *for her safety*—and she attacked his stamina?

A man’s pride. Unforgivable.

His thumbs flew:

[*Ungrateful. I’m protecting you. Keep distance. It’s not what you think.*]

[*Oh? You just playing with Sister Weiwei? Dump her after? Legs for days, perfect figure—not enough? Bet you’ll never find better. Player Brother. Disgusting.*]

[*Pull that stunt? I’ll tell Mom and Dad. Kiss your allowance goodbye.*]

Threatening *him* now?

Has my sister gone rogue… or have I lost my edge?

And *player*? She knows nothing!

Fingers clashed on screens. A WeChat war erupted.

“What are you two whispering about? May this humble servant join?” The Ghost Emperor’s eyes flicked to their phones, a cold smile playing on her lips.

“Whispering? Must be your imagination,” Zhong Cheng pocketed his phone, forcing calm.

Her gaze narrowed—eerie, piercing light locking onto him. Unblinking.

Three seconds felt like three years. Sweat beaded. Heart hammered. *Don’t crack. Don’t crack.*

But… he held.

Recent horrors had toughened him. Courage grew.

*Face the fear.*

“Xiao Xi,” the Ghost Emperor turned smoothly, “tell this humble servant what was said.”

“Sure! Brother said: keep distance, don’t share family stuff, and your relationship isn’t what I imagine,” Zhong Xi chirped innocently.

“…” Zhong Cheng.

*Sister. I will end you.*

Instant betrayal. Now he was cornered.

“Is this true… husband?”

“…Mm.” Denial was pointless.

“Do not repeat it. Or I drain you dry.”

“Understood,” Zhong Cheng replied, meek as a mouse.

“Drain… dry?” Zhong Xi blinked, cheeks flushing faintly.

*Whoa. Adult talk. So… direct!*

Later, the Ghost Emperor pulled out her Sony LT26. “Add WeChat?”

Both siblings beamed—honored to be contacts #1 and #2 on the Ghost Emperor’s list.

She sent greetings:

A cute cartoon sticker to Zhong Xi.

A blood-smeared dagger image to Zhong Cheng.

“…” Zhong Cheng.

…

Evening fell.

Zhong Cheng and the Ghost Emperor headed to the market. Fridge empty. Strategic supplies needed.

His sister had *strongly* pushed eating out—“Celebrate Brother’s new girlfriend!”

Celebration? Only if it were real.

Hmph. He saw right through her. Just scrounging for a free feast.

She’d drag them to some pricey influencer hotspot, order triple portions, then demand dessert *and* midnight snacks. Bleed him dry? No thanks.

Yes, he had cash from splitting loot with Iron Bull. But waste? Never.

Zhong Cheng was a Red Scarf at heart—frugal, principled, Party-aligned since childhood.

And until he drew the Little Sun? Every yuan was sacred strategy.

Final verdict:

Eating out ×

Cooking at home √