The sun dipped low, splashing the sky in vivid tomato-red hues.
The city’s evening bustle remained unchanged.
Traffic lights cycled, counting down. Like ants, corporate drones trudged through monotonous routines.
Today’s wind carried a restless whisper.
Side by side, they walked the sidewalk, shadows stretched long by the setting sun.
Yellow paving bricks formed a staggered pattern, broken here and there by red bricks in simple designs—just enough to soften the monotony.
To the left, beyond the railing, four lanes of traffic wove urban energy.
To the right, tender grass and low shrubs offered quiet contrast to the city’s noise.
Happiness Building residential complex lay a short, straight walk from the market.
Its towering sign was already visible in the distance—nearly ten meters tall, with a hastily copied fruit graphic. The designer’s laziness was obvious. *Definitely underpaid.*
"XX Market" stood bold and clear.
(The reverse side advertised "XX Furniture" and "XX Supermarket.")
Zhong Cheng noticed passersby glancing their way.
Most gazes locked onto the Ghost Emperor beside him.
When eyes flicked to Zhong Cheng, disdain flashed—*Pah!*—as if seeing a delicate blossom planted in dung. Disgusted.
*Heh. Just jealousy.*
He didn’t mind. A swell of vanity rose within him.
They surely mistook them for a couple.
Not entirely wrong. Their bond ran deeper than romance.
He stole a glance. Bathed in crimson sunset light, she seemed touched by cinematic glow—more radiant than usual.
Her waterfall-black hair shimmered. Pale skin held a rare flush. Her tall, graceful frame carried serene elegance, crowned by a face that could eclipse countless influencers.
*Man, my wife is gorgeous.*
Vanity levels: UP, UP, UP.
“Enjoying the view?” The Ghost Emperor turned, catching his gaze with a knowing look.
“Of course. My wife’s beautiful. What’s wrong with looking?” Zhong Cheng replied with swagger.
“Silver-tongued,” she chided lightly.
After another quiet moment admiring her, he looked away. They walked on in silence.
*Life is like rape. If you can’t fight back, lie back and enjoy it.*
Crude words—but honest. Perfect for his situation.
The Ghost Emperor was beyond comprehension. Escape? Impossible. So embrace it.
If this was fate—why hesitate? Just go for it.
Clarity dawned. Zhong Cheng felt a flicker of anticipation for what nights might bring. His heart fluttered.
They reached the market entrance—crowded, lively.
Most shoppers were middle-aged or elderly. Young pairs like them stood out sharply.
Zhong Cheng led confidently; the Ghost Emperor followed silently. Though her face stayed cool, her eyes darted curiously across stalls.
*Never been to a market before. No wonder she’s fascinated.*
At a vegetable stall, he inspected broccoli, confirmed freshness, and asked for weighing.
A little over two pounds.
Bagged. Phone out. Scanning payment.
“The tomatoes are fresh too. Want a look?” the vendor smiled.
He checked—indeed fresh. Accepted the bag, packed them in.
Other veggies didn’t suit his taste. Payment done. Time to leave.
Zhong Cheng turned to her. “Any vegetables you like?”
“No strong preferences. Anything is fine,” the Ghost Emperor said.
*“Anything is fine”?*
Seemingly simple—but a legendary domestic minefield. Difficulty? Unpredictable. Could be trivial… or nightmare-tier.
Worthy of a Hero Association mission.
Or the Demonic Grandmaster’s sacred sword.
That one word held layers. Enough to spark chaos. Nothing simple.
They moved on. Vegetables done. Heading to meat.
Had pork prices dropped? Swine fever, speculation, that mysterious city outbreak—they’d sent costs soaring.
Zhong Cheng rarely followed news, but headlines hammered it daily. Hard to miss.
At the pork stall, the price board showed relief. *Time to stock up.*
“Zhong Cheng? And who’s this lovely girl?”
An auntie from Happiness Building hailed them—different building, rarely spoke, but recognized him.
His mom’s proud boasts made him neighborhood-famous: top student, elite university. Unwilling marketing.
He’d scolded her about it. Useless.
Her eyes gleamed with gossip-hunger, scanning the Ghost Emperor.
“Your girlfriend?”
“Uh… you could say that.”
“No need to blush! Of course she is. Prestigious student lands such beauty—classmate? Met at school?”
“Something like that.”
“How long dating?”
“Just started recently.”
“Her name? Hometown? Major?” The auntie unleashed the classic trio of nosy questions.
“Ah—busy! Bye!”
Zhong Cheng couldn’t endure the interrogation. *Strategic retreat.*
He grabbed the Ghost Emperor’s hand and quickened pace.
“Kids these days… so thin-skinned,” the auntie muttered.
By tomorrow, the whole complex would know: Zhong Cheng had a girlfriend.
How gossip flew so fast remained a mystery.
Zhong Cheng felt tangled emotions.
He glanced back. Her expression stayed calm, unreadable.
“That auntie was annoying, right?” he asked casually.
“Mm.” Cool reply.
“Tomorrow everyone’ll say you’re my girlfriend. You don’t mind?”
“Do you think *this one* would care?” she countered.
*That’s why I’m asking! Why bounce it back?*
*I don’t care what I think—I care what YOU think!*
Talking to her was exhausting. Enough to frustrate any rigid-minded guy.
He stayed silent. Deliberately left her hanging. *Let her learn.*
He strode forward.
Then paused. Looked down.
*Huh? Since when were we holding hands?*
*Right… when we fled the auntie. I grabbed hers. Naturally.*
Her hand was cool—but surprisingly smooth. Slender fingers like lustrous white jade, almost boneless.
He gently squeezed. Rubbed. Savoring the texture.
He really did it—kneading her hand like a worry stone. Delightfully soft.
He glanced up.
A faint, knowing smile played on her lips.
Zhong Cheng jerked his hand back, pulse racing. *Don’t anger her. Don’t die.*
“Sorry,” he muttered, voice small.
*Damn it. I vowed to stop chickening out. Yet here I am. What a damn embarrassment.*
*All because of her overwhelming presence.*
She said nothing. Unbothered.
*Hmm… If she truly doesn’t mind… can I keep fondling her hand?*
