Su Qi could feel that those hands were still trembling.
Not recovered yet?
Such a timid kid?
But on second thought, a stinky little brat who could get scared just by hitting a rotten meat mountain and break out in a sweat...
Thinking this, Su Qi instinctively lowered his gaze a little.
This time, however, he didn’t break out in a sweat.
At the same time, Liu Yuan’s fingertip kept wandering back and forth over the rabbit-shaped bandage, right at the position of the bunny ears.
She seemed to be in a very conflicted state and didn’t notice Su Qi’s small movements at all.
Instead, Su Qi noticed Liu Yuan’s strange mood again and asked in confusion, “What’s wrong now?”
Liu Yuan shook her head and gave Su Qi a cute smile. “Nothing much!”
After gently pressing down twice on the rabbit bandage, she feigned ease and withdrew her hand.
She brushed off some nonexistent dust: “I just didn’t stick it on properly earlier!”
Only then did Liu Yuan leave Su Qi’s side and switch on the small night lamp beside the hammock.
Then she took out her phone and returned to Su Qi’s side, somewhat eager for praise as she turned on the selfie camera.
“Su Qi, look, isn’t it pretty~”
Su Qi looked at the slightly crooked rabbit bandage and found himself at a loss for words.
Why did it feel like she was fishing for compliments after doing something incredibly impressive?
Is sticking on a bandage really that hard?
But his intuition told him it was best not to ‘kill the mood’ right now, or something very bad might happen.
Su Qi trusted his gut: “Looks good, looks good.”
Not wanting the conversation to stall on this topic, he continued, “Just now you were calling me ‘Brother Su Qi,’ now you’ve downgraded?”
Liu Yuan seemed a bit distracted. “Huh?”
“Uh... it just feels more natural to call you Su Qi... but ‘Brother Su Qi’…”
Although she still called him Su Qi, the meaning had completely changed.
“Stop, stop, stop. I’m not used to hearing it either. Just call me Su Qi.”
“Okay…”
Suddenly, the tent fell silent.
Neither of them seemed to know what to say.
Su Qi broke the silence: “Alright, alright, let’s sleep.”
Liu Yuan nodded somewhat blankly: “Okay.”
...
*Rustle, rustle.*
*Whisper, whisper.*
Just as Su Qi was about to fall asleep, he suddenly heard strange noises.
He turned slightly to take a look at Liu Yuan.
She wasn’t lying down but was sitting sideways on the hammock, slowly pulling down the white stockings on her legs, inch by inch.
The small night lamp beside her hadn’t been turned off yet.
The soft, smooth texture was clearly visible under the light.
Don’t look, don’t look.
Su Qi was convinced he wasn’t the type of person without a moral bottom line.
He knew when to look and when not to.
So, he covered his face with his hand.
At the same time, he spread his fingers just enough to let his eyes peek through.
But then again, Su Qi felt his moral bottom line was pretty flexible.
After all, this wasn’t exactly something that needed censoring.
...
Meanwhile,
Liu Yuan’s mood wasn’t as blissful as Su Qi’s.
Peeling off the bandage from Su Qi’s face and mocking him?
No way.
It wasn’t because of some clichéd "hero saves beauty" scenario that Liu Yuan developed any romantic feelings for Su Qi.
She definitely wouldn’t betray her brother.
That’s why, even when she called him “brother,” she made sure to add “Su Qi” beforehand to make it clear.
It was more like a long-lost familial affection.
Unconsciously, she realized she had always been the one being cared for.
Her memories of her mother were actually quite vague, and she barely remembered her stepfather.
From the age of eight until now—ten whole years.
In fact, hardly anyone had ever taught her how to be a decent person.
What’s right, what’s wrong.
What’s good, what’s evil.
So it wasn’t realistic to expect Liu Yuan to have a perfect personality.
Or rather, perfect personalities don’t exist.
Everyone has their flaws.
Take Su Qi’s habit of asking for money the moment he opens his mouth—it probably had a lot to do with how he grew up.
But...
Not having been taught isn’t an excuse or justification for doing wrong.
She remembered a phrase from her childhood studies: “If offered ten thousand measures of grain, one should not blindly accept it without discerning propriety; what would ten thousand measures add to me?”
So did she really have to hurt her own family to gain strength?
No.
Though it was a bit of a pity.
But just a bit.
Liu Yuan slowly peeled off the white stockings from her legs.
She had no idea how long the forced execution order would take, so the only option was to destroy the equipment.
To prevent any explosions or similar accidents during destruction, she needed to remove the equipment from her body first.
At that moment, Liu Yuan suddenly turned around.
She wanted to ask Su Qi if he knew what would happen when a card was destroyed...
Then...
Nothing happened after that.
Their eyes met.
Liu Yuan swore she had never seen Su Qi’s eyes so wide in her entire life.
Surprisingly, there wasn’t much anger.
His tone was calm: “Su Qi, brother.”
“I have a boyfriend.”
“So stop making moves on me. I’m a little...”
“No, wait... I should remember to watch the situation next time. I thought you were asleep...”
If Su Qi had peeked while she was getting dressed, it wouldn’t have been a big deal—after all, once she was dressed and walking on the street, people would still be looking.
But observing her so closely at such close range—that was a bit too intimate.
She couldn’t accept it.
“You said you have a girlfriend too. If you’re just making that up to save face... Sister Yun Huang is nice, and there’s nothing special about me to look at anyway...”
“Who peeked at you? A bug flew into my eye, I was just rubbing it.”
Su Qi seemed to realize his excuse wasn’t convincing.
He thought for a moment and pulled out his phone: “I want to see. My girlfriend sends me ten pictures in a minute.”
Then Su Qi scrolled to the chat message titled ‘Look at the legs’: “See? My girlfriend is way cuter than you, little brat.”
They were separated by two hammocks about a meter apart.
But Liu Yuan still clearly saw the content on Su Qi’s phone screen.
[ I want to sleep: Little Yuanwei, Little Yuanwei, you have to wear white silk. ]
[ Yuanwei flower: If it’s brother... >_< ]
[ Yuanwei flower: Okay... ]
[ Yuanwei flower: Brother, look... >_< ]
[ I want to sleep: Looks good.jpg ]
[Iris: I… I’m not! I just promised my brother, that’s all…]
In just an instant, Liu Yuan felt her entire face flush with warmth.
[Joy +9999]
ions, keeping it grounded and realistic】 After quitting his job, office worker Su Yang accidentally binds with the "Enjoy Life System." As the name suggests, simply by indulging in life's pleasures, he can earn random rewards from the system—no need to spend money on beautiful women or grovel before anyone. Just enjoy, and the money follows, making it all about effortless fun. The system comes with a scanning feature, allowing him to establish a favorability bond with women rated 85 points or above. Every 20-point increase in favorability unlocks additional rewards. After suffering through over twenty years of hardship, Su Yang trembles with excitement, his dull eyes suddenly gleaming with newfound hope. "Enjoy life? How hard could that be?"
e school belle recognized by the whole school, a genius girl from the kendo club. She also has a hidden identity, the youngest legendary demon hunter. Chen Shuo just transmigrated and found himself turned into a weak, helpless little vampire. He was caught by Su Xiyen and taken home at the very beginning. Since then, Chen Shuo's life creed only had two items. "First, classmate Su Xiyen is always right." "Second, if classmate Su Xiyen is wrong, please refer back to item one." Many years later, Chen Shuo, who had turned back into a human, led a pair of twins to appear in front of all the vampires to share the secret of how he turned back into a human. "It's simple, I tricked a female demon hunter into becoming my wife!"
e bizarre and supernatural had descended. The previous emperor was a thoroughgoing tyrant; no longer satisfied with human women, he had set his sights on a stunningly beautiful supernatural entity. He met his end in his bedchamber, drained of all his vital essence. As the legitimate eldest son and crown prince, Wang Hao was thus hastily enthroned, becoming the young emperor of the Great Zhou Dynasty. No sooner had he awakened the "Imperial Sign-In Intelligence System" than he was assassinated by a Son of Destiny—a classic villain's opening. The Great Zhou, ravaged by the former emperor's excesses, was in national decline. The great families within its borders harbored their own treacherous schemes, martial sects began to defy the imperial court's decrees, and border armies, their pay and provisions in arrears, grumbled incessantly against the central government. Fortunately, the central capital was still held secure by the half-million Imperial Guards and fifty thousand Imperial Forest Army who obeyed the court's orders, along with the royal family's hidden reserves of power, barely managing to suppress the realm. As the Great Zhou's finances worsened and supernatural activities grew ever more frequent, the court sat atop a volcano. Ambitious plotters everywhere dreamed of overthrowing the dynasty, and even some reclusive ancient powers emerged, attempting to sway the tides of the world. At the first grand court assembly, the civil and military officials nearly came to blows, fighting tooth and nail over the allocation of fifty million taels of silver from the summer tax revenues. The spectacle opened Wang Hao's eyes—the Great Zhou's bureaucracy was not only corrupt but also martially proficient, a cabinet of all-rounders. Some officials even had the audacity to suggest the emperor release funds from the imperial privy purse to address the emergency. Wang Hao suddenly felt weary. Let it all burn.
he colors of other people’s emotions. Light red meant anxiety. Gray meant exhaustion. Orange meant excitement. Yellow... meant repression. At the same time, he could gain unlimited control over one of those colors. Pale cyan: relaxation. Using this ability, he started offering “two-yuan hugs,” spending an afternoon exchanging emotional-color experiences with others. Then came his final female customer of the day— a girl whose emotional color was pure black... —— A week later, Xu Chuan had become skilled at using pale cyan—Relaxation—treating it like a bottle of menthol balm whenever he needed it. That was when he discovered he had unlocked another unlimited emotional color: Purple, the color of fear. So these emotional colors refresh every week? Fine, I take it back—I’ll never call you useless again... —— Much later, after Xu Chuan had accumulated countless emotional abilities, one night, he suddenly found himself inside someone else’s dream. There, he could use the emotional colors he possessed to paint. And in her dream, he painted her a shower of pink shooting stars, spreading across the depths of the night sky...
