Chu Jingyi felt utterly foolish for flashing a silly grin over a single compliment from Lu Li. She quickly turned her head away and led him toward the front gate.

*Chu Jingyi, Chu Jingyi—you’re the Class Rep. Show some decorum!* she scolded herself inwardly.

“Class Rep, your house is huge,” Lu Li remarked sincerely. No flattery—this neighborhood featured townhouses, not ordinary apartments. In the Divine Realm, villas required extra land tax. With most people barely affording a home, who could spare cash for that?

Chu Jingyi let out a soft chuckle, her smug pride plain on her face. Just a young girl, after all—zero guile.

As they reached the door, the exquisitely carved wooden gate swung open. A graceful middle-aged woman appeared—seventy percent Chu Jingyi’s likeness, equally tall. Flawless upkeep made her seem like Chu Jingyi’s elder sister at first glance.

“Mom, this is Lu Li, a good friend I’ve recently made.” The words sounded elementary-school earnest. Lu Li inwardly rolled his eyes at the *silly goose*. “Lu Li, this is my mom.”

“Auntie,” Lu Li greeted politely. Her warm smile scanned him head to toe, as if analyzing a curious specimen. After a moment, her grin widened.

“So you’re Xiao Lu? You’re so handsome! Come in, come in—no need to change shoes!”

Such back-and-forth courtesy was standard in the Divine Realm. Had Lu Li actually tracked his fifty-yuan canvas shoes onto that mirror-like floor, he’d surely pay for it later. Instead, he shyly slipped into slippers, double-checking for sock holes. Had it been possible, he might’ve even sniffed his feet.

*Overthinking again,* he realized. *And socks under slippers? Weird.*

Auntie Chu ushered them to the living room. Lu Li carefully set the cheap red plastic fruit bag against the wall and offered an apologetic smile—he’d aimed for that “neither servile nor overbearing” urban-novel-hero vibe, but facing someone of far higher status, the smile lacked conviction.

Only then did Auntie Chu spot the bag. “Child, you brought a gift? We can’t accept you spending money!” Her tone was genuinely touched.

Yet gifting was never about the item—it was the thought. Though her words refused it, her beaming smile betrayed delight. Her gaze toward Lu Li grew warmer. A chill prickled his spine. *Did I mess up by bringing this?*

The Chu home’s decor shone not through luxury materials, but masterful aesthetics: harmonious colors, furniture arranged with rhythmic spacing. Only a top-tier designer could pull this off—easily an eight-figure commission.

Alone on the sofa, the *silly goose* flushed crimson, tongue-tied. Lu Li felt like he was sitting on pins and needles. He’d braced for parental coldness or scrutiny of their daughter’s social circle—not this blooming warmth and “so handsome” compliment. *Seriously, call a guy “handsome”?*

“Class Rep, level with me—what do your parents really think of me?” Lu Li glanced at the flustered girl. *Speak up, my dear sister. It’s not a date—why the blush?*

“They like you!” she said. “Dad even asked about you last week—how long we’ve known each other.”

“What’d you say?”

“I told the truth—we’ve known each other over a year…”

*That’s your “truth”?* Lu Li nearly choked. To him, freshman year meant barely classmates—shared classroom, minor friction. To the *silly goose*, “known each other” was literal. *Will your parents misunderstand?*

Thankfully, the awkwardness broke minutes later. Auntie Chu entered with a dessert platter. “Try Auntie’s baking, Xiao Lu.”

“Thank you, Auntie.” Lu Li took a bite of the unfamiliar sweet. Distracted, he still managed: “Mmm! Delicious!”

Praising a homemaker’s cooking—especially a mother—beat complimenting looks any day. Flattery: life’s stealth shortcut.

Seated beside her daughter, Auntie Chu smiled. “Heard you topped the mock exam? So clever. Tutor Jingyi sometime—she’s stubborn and slow.”

“I’m not slow!” Chu Jingyi pouted.

Lu Li shot the *silly goose* a look. *You missed your mom’s hint.* He nodded earnestly. “I’ll help her at school.” *When in doubt, promise.* Life lesson two: strategic vagueness.

Auntie Chu beamed. Light school talk flowed smoothly under Lu Li’s gentle steering. Then Chu Xiaodong descended the stairs, towel in hand, hair damp.

“Washed up before Xiao Lu arrived,” he said bluntly, unlike a politician. “Min’er, don’t hover. Let Jingyi host. I’ll dry my hair.”

Auntie Chu eyed her daughter, still playing ostrich. “Jingyi, didn’t you have something for Xiao Lu?”

Slightly annoyed—*He’s my friend; why interrogate him?*—Chu Jingyi muttered, “Lu Li, come upstairs. I recorded the piece.” She stomped toward the stairs, thumping each step. Lu Li offered Auntie Chu a quick smile and hurried after her.

Free from parental eyes, Chu Jingyi’s mood lifted. She glanced at Lu Li’s calm face. “Sorry. Mom overdoes things. Dad spoils her.”

“Auntie’s kindness left me flustered,” Lu Li reassured her. Her smile returned.

“I worried she’d make you uncomfortable.”

“Just chatting.”

“Listen to my composition!” Mood shifted instantly. She tugged his sleeve toward the media room—impulsive as Zou Yameng, zero patience.

Wealth screamed luxury: media room, game lounge, billiards room, walk-in closet. *Third floor has a pool,* the *silly goose* mentioned. Lu Li recalled his and Zou Yameng’s “hovel”—living-bedroom merged, kitchen-bathroom shared. Smaller than the garden’s two-story wooden *doghouse*, where a golden retriever gazed hopefully.

*Humans aren’t even dogs here.*

In the media room, Chu Jingyi fitted him with headphones. Music played. When it ended, her fingers twisted nervously. “How was it? I might’ve been off…” Proud of the piece, yet anxious.

“Brilliant. Far beyond expectations. Class Rep, you’re a genius!”

“R-really?” Her cheeks flushed pink—not shyness, pure joy.

Lu Li removed the headphones and nodded firmly. Truthfully? Mediocre. Clearly inexperienced.

“But two small suggestions,” he added carefully. “Raise the key around the three-minute mark to heighten tension. And… your voice is lovely. Add a choir-style vocal chant at the end?”

Chu Jingyi nodded vigorously, scribbling notes in a notebook lest she forget. Lu Li watched the *silly goose*’s earnest focus—touched, amused. Professionally? Amateurish. Pure flute solo. Monotonous. Nothing like An Baili’s genius.

Watching the petite girl bent over her notes, Lu Li felt a sudden urge to ruffle her hair. *You worked hard.* The thought flickered—and vanished.

*Better keep some distance.*