After buying groceries, the two headed to the nearby supermarket for snacks—a firm request from his little sister.

The snack stash at home had run dry.

Moments later.

Bags in hand, they retraced their steps along the sidewalk.

Rush hour swelled the crowd, making the path tight.

Ahead, a group approached. Passing them would mean a squeeze.

Zhong Cheng glanced at the Ghost Emperor beside him—her path led straight into the thickest part.

Without hesitation, he took her hand, pulled her to his side, swapped positions, and laced their fingers. Perfect.

Now she’d stay clear of the crush—and he got to hold her hand, *legitimately*.

“This way, you won’t get jostled,” Zhong Cheng said smoothly, meeting her questioning look.

The Ghost Emperor said nothing. A silent yes.

Then—the unexpected. The group halted at the crosswalk, crossed when green lit up, and vanished.

“…”

No crowd. No squeeze.

So… he didn’t *need* to hold her hand?

Whatever. Rare chance. Her hand was fair, soft. Why let go without savoring it a little longer?

*Please don’t hit me*, he prayed inwardly.

She didn’t hit him. Instead, her fingers gently tightened, pressing her palm firmly to his.

Huh?

His ghost wife… this proactive?

Totally different from the market. That was just *holding* hands. This? A real, mutual clasp. Palms sealed.

Unexpectedly… wonderful.

As a straight guy, hand-holding outside family was rare. With a beauty? Rarer.

He glanced at her, then their joined hands. A quiet thrill swelled in his chest.

Not bad at all.

Having a wife… kinda nice. Even if she’s a ghost.

At the Xingfu Lou Residential Community gate, hands still linked.

Only upstairs did they finally part.

“The bulb’s been replaced?” Zhong Cheng murmured, eyeing the stairwell light—steady now, no flicker.

…

…

Dinner done, night deepened.

Zhong Cheng patted his full belly. His once-hollow cheeks had softened, less gaunt.

Daily bingeing wrecked the body—but not his choice.

*Wife’s insatiable. What can I do? Just satisfy her.*

He’d even pondered Shenbao pills—to replenish what was lost.

*And keep up with her needs… Pah!*

Not a pig fattening for slaughter. So masochistic.

Plus, Shenbao pills cost.

Yeah… price was the real issue.

Xi stared at her brother, stunned. Since when did he eat like a competitive eater?

He’d cleared the table, wolfing down dishes she loved.

If not for his gorgeous new girlfriend marking his “peak era,” she’d think he’d hit rock bottom.

*Bro’s awful. Snatched all my favorites.*

Without guests watching, she’d have battled him right there.

“Sis Weiwei, no hotel booked? Sleep over! Parents are out—you can take their room,” Xi suggested.

“This servant shares a room with her husband,” the Ghost Emperor replied.

“Is this adulthood? First night at boyfriend’s place… already sharing a room?” Xi gaped.

*What’s this little brat imagining?* Zhong Cheng scoffed inwardly—but his pulse quickened.

*Slip downstairs? Grab Durex? Lubricant too—essential for mood.*

Virgin he was, but after countless films… did he *really* not know? √

…

Zhong Cheng exited the bathroom post-shower.

In the living room, the two women watched a K-drama. Snack crumbs dotted the table.

The Ghost Emperor faced the screen, expression neutral, unreadable.

“I’m done. Who’s next?”

She rose and walked toward the bathroom.

*Does she know the water heater? If she calls me… holy light moment?*

Hope flickered.

Dashed.

Water trickled inside. She knew.

*A ghost, yet fluent in modern life. How’s a human supposed to keep up?*

Zhong Cheng sat beside Xi. She tapped her phone, grinning, ignoring the drama.

Soon, she stood, vanished into her room.

Returned transformed—no lazy little sister now.

“Friend’s out. Won’t disturb your lovey-dovey time,” she said, purse in hand, flashing Zhong Cheng a wink.

*So grown-up for her age.*

Before he spoke—

Click.

Door shut. Silence.

Only the bathroom’s pitter-patter remained.

*Her flawless figure… water tracing every curve…*

Even a “decent guy” felt a flush.

Alone now. Well—*one human, one ghost*.

But she was *his* ghost. Safe to get a little naughty.

A lone man and a lone ghost… thrilling.

*Normally I’d refuse. “You can’t spring this on me! Virgin, shy, scared of messing up…”*

But her curves, grace, presence—flawless.

No reason to say no.

Ghost? Accept the premise. *Better*, even.

Yeah. He’d accepted it.

Water stopped. Door opened.

Ghost Emperor emerged in a nightgown—Xi’s, modest-cut. (No fantasies, please.)

Snug on her, sleeves riding up wrists, hem revealing ankles.

Damp black hair, darker now, tousled over shoulders—lazy, alluring.

“You’re done.”

“Mm.”

“Late. Dry your hair. Rest,” Zhong Cheng said evenly. He stood, walked to the bedroom.

Door left ajar. Waiting.

Already in bed, he’d shifted against the wall, blanket pulled up, half-space clear.

Obedient. Waiting.

(Old him would’ve scrolled phones. Not tonight.)

She entered. Hair dried mid-step.

Zhong Cheng patted the empty space. *Come on.*

As she climbed in, he lifted the blanket—gentlemanly to the end.