You Call Me Mom, I Call You Bro The Young Lady's Righteous Judgment

The Reception Room.

Ye Cheng took a sip of the tea that Madam Du had personally brewed for him.

"So, how is it? Delicious, Little Chengcheng?" Du Wanyi propped herself up on the table with both hands, her face brimming with anticipation as she waited for praise from Ye Cheng.

Ye Cheng nodded and exhaled deeply. "Sister Du, your technique is incredibly professional. Even I feel inferior—you’re clearly a seasoned expert."

He gave her a thumbs-up, and Du Wanyi’s heart swelled with pride. Finally, she had a chance to shine! All those things she’d been forced to learn as a child had finally paid off.

Du Wanyi might have been the troublemaker of the Du family, but she hadn’t slacked on her education. Though the process had been rebellious and chaotic, the end result was solid.

She had mastered everything a family head needed—composure, tactics, and refined manners.

To outsiders, Du Wanyi might seem like an airhead, but that was only because she refused to wear a stern face all day. It was boring, and thinking too hard gave her a headache.

Honestly, she’d much rather leave all the serious matters to "Little Mingming" while she lounged around, eating, sleeping, and goofing off.

As for "Little Mingming," that naturally referred to the young miss’s father—Shen Ming, the head of the Shen family. His standing in the household was so low that he ranked below the family dog. Of course, this was according to the infamous "Blacklist" compiled by none other than the unreliable Madam Du.

And since it was Du Wanyi’s list, fairness was nonexistent—just pure bias and absurdity.

Even a half-eaten apple Du Wanyi had nibbled on in the morning could rank higher than Shen Ming. Truly ridiculous!

Du Wanyi had always thought these refined skills were useless. Why bother with tea when you could just buy a cheap soda from a street vendor? All that talk about tea being refreshing, nourishing, or cultivating one’s character—she didn’t feel any difference.

If it weren’t for the chance to show off in front of others, she would’ve quit long ago. But now, after years of waiting, she finally had her moment to flaunt her skills!

Hearing Ye Cheng’s praise, Du Wanyi was practically vibrating with excitement—well, she was just really, really thrilled!

"So, Little Chengcheng, you know about this too?" Du Wanyi, now thoroughly pleased, eagerly continued the conversation.

Ye Cheng nodded humbly. "I used to know a little. Not sure how much I remember now."

"Oh? Well, no harm in trying! I have a feeling you’ll do great."

"Alright then… I’ll give it a shot."

The two of them had their own peculiar dynamic—she called him "Little Chengcheng," he called her "Sister Du"—yet it felt strangely natural. They quickly fell into sync, even diving into a deep discussion about tea-brewing techniques.

This time, Ye Cheng wasn’t joking about iced tea. He genuinely knew how to appreciate and brew proper tea.

As the saying goes, "I don’t care if you’re a fraud, but when the time comes, I hope you have more to offer than just tricks."

Ye Cheng had picked up countless skills over the years, thanks to his sharp mind. What took others weeks to grasp, he mastered in hours. While others inched forward with "+1 experience," his progress multiplied exponentially, leaving normal learners in the dust.

My name is Ye Linfei. Right now, I’m just a useless student with no special powers. But in seven days, I’ll crush all seven parallel universes. What do you think, folks—can I do it?

Too bad Ye Cheng lived in a world without parallel universes. With all his talent and off-the-charts abilities, his destiny was reduced to being the young miss’s lackey. In another setting, he might’ve even changed his name—forget "Ye Cheng," he’d be the type to say, "I don’t eat beef!"

Warming the teapot, placing the leaves, rinsing them, pouring water, steeping…

His movements were fluid, precise, and undeniably professional. Du Wanyi, watching from across the table, couldn’t help but feel a twinge of doubt. Was it her imagination, or was he even better than her?

"Well, Sister Du, what do you think?" Ye Cheng raised an eyebrow.

Du Wanyi suddenly felt like she’d been played. She’d expected to show off, only to get outshined.

Her cheeks puffed up in visible frustration.

"Eh… not bad, I guess. I wasn’t really trying earlier—just fooling around. Let’s do it again!"

Like a sore loser, Du Wanyi immediately demanded a rematch. Ye Cheng, ever the good sport, humored her, and the two dove back into their tea-brewing session, completely forgetting about the young miss.

Meanwhile…

In the young miss’s room.

Shen Qinghan lay on her bed, the short-haired woman keeping watch beside her.

Suddenly, Shen Qinghan’s long lashes fluttered, and her eyes slowly opened, still clouded with the lingering fear from her earlier "shutdown." She glanced around, relieved to find herself back in her room.

"Young Miss, you’re awake!" The short-haired woman perked up, leaning in to check on her.

Shen Qinghan sat up, scanning the room. When she didn’t see a certain idiot’s figure, her brows furrowed.

Had that guy just taken the photos and left without a word?

"Where is he?" Her voice was icy, cutting through the silence.

The short-haired woman hesitated, unsure whether "he" referred to the family head or Ye Cheng. But given the circumstances, it didn’t matter—both were currently…

"Young Miss, Young Master Ye was taken away by the family head. Right now, he’s…"

After hearing the explanation, Shen Qinghan narrowed her eyes and got out of bed. Barefoot, she stepped onto the cold floor, the chill sharpening her groggy mind.

She strode toward the door, then suddenly turned back, rummaging through the room until she found a carrot plushie and an oversized "holy sword." Armed and furious, she marched out.

No doubt about it.

That spider she’d seen earlier—she recognized it. It was one of that shameless, wicked woman’s pets!

As the Du family’s resident troublemaker, Du Wanyi had some… unconventional hobbies. While most people kept cats or dogs, she preferred insects and snakes.

And of all things, Shen Qinghan’s greatest fear was bugs. The Shen estate was meticulously cleaned by maids, so there was no way a spider that plump had just wandered in.

That oversized, "well-fed" arachnid? Undoubtedly Madam Du’s handiwork.

Which meant…

The young mistress gripped her "holy sword" with murderous intent as she stormed toward a certain room in the mansion.

Tap, tap, tap—her footsteps came to a swift halt as she overheard the conversation between two people inside.

"Slurp—ahhh, so refreshing! Ye Cheng, you're an absolute genius. Who even came up with something as brilliant as iced tea?"

"Right? Way better than regular tea, huh?"

"What kind of miserable life was I living before? This stuff is pure nectar—I can't go back. From now on, all the tea leaves in this house are getting replaced with iced tea bags…"

BANG!

The sudden noise made the two conspirators—who had been enthusiastically discussing the "art of savoring" iced tea—jump in fright. They turned toward the door and saw the young mistress standing there, clutching a giant radish in her hands. Both Ye Cheng and Du Wanyi felt their hearts drop.

Oh no…

Both of them had been on the receiving end of the young mistress’s "disciplinary actions" before, and the sight of her signature weapon sent shivers down their spines.

But soon, Ye Cheng noticed something odd—Du Wanyi, the married woman beside him, seemed even more terrified than he was.

Wait, why should I be scared? I didn’t do anything wrong!

Ye Cheng thought back. He hadn’t provoked the young mistress today—in fact, he’d even helped in her "rescue operation." Far from being guilty, he was practically a hero!

With that realization, his back straightened instantly, like a student who knew the answer to the teacher’s question, puffing up with confidence—almost as if he were channeling the spirit of a military general, ribs jutting out with pride.

In stark contrast, Du Wanyi looked like she was about to faint from sheer panic.

Gulp.

She swallowed hard, forcing a composed expression as the young mistress advanced toward her with ominous intent.

"Uh… Xiao Hanhan, what’s with the radish? Y-You know Mom’s not really a fan of radishes… Ye Cheng seems to like them, though! Why don’t you give it to him? Mom’s fine without it, really!"

Ye Cheng: "???"

Excuse me, ma’am?!

He couldn’t believe it. Just moments ago, Du Wanyi had been all "bros before woes," and now she was throwing him under the bus without hesitation. Her ability to dodge blame was on par with his own.

So this is how you repay your comrades? Stabbing them in the back twice over?

Shen Qinghan’s expression was eerily calm, but her voice was icy. "Those bugs in the house—how many times have I told you to throw them out? Did you keep them anyway?"

Du Wanyi’s eyes darted around guiltily as she pouted and tried to weasel her way out. "N-No way… I’m pretty sure I got rid of all of them. I even had Little Lanlan handle it, right, Little Lanlan?"

Short-haired woman: "???"

Since when?!

Before the short-haired woman could respond, the young mistress let out a cold laugh and charged forward, radish raised high.

With a mighty swing—

EXCALIBUR!!!

THUD!

Du Wanyi—OUT!!!

The radish struck Du Wanyi square on the head, knocking her senseless. Her eyes rolled back, her legs stiffened—this was it, her life had officially been "straightened out."

Thump.

Du Wanyi collapsed, half-dead, as the young mistress continued her relentless "holy sword" beatdown. Meanwhile, Ye Cheng stood frozen in place, trembling like a leaf.

Uh… Should I make a run for it?

Something told him that once the young mistress finished with Du Wanyi, he’d be next.

Gulp.

He swallowed nervously and whispered, barely audible, "Ahem… Young Mistress, I think my grandpa’s done with school… I should probably go pick him up…"

Of course, Shen Qinghan didn’t hear him—nor did he want her to. The only one who caught his desperate muttering was the short-haired woman nearby.

After quietly reciting his "disclaimer," Ye Cheng began inching toward the door on all fours. Spotting the short-haired woman standing there, watching the chaos unfold, he frantically pressed a finger to his lips—Please, for the love of all things holy, don’t say a word.

Short-haired woman: "…"

Ye Cheng finally reached the door. Freedom was within reach—just one step, and he’d make a clean escape!

"Close the door!"

SLAM!

Ye Cheng: "…"

With the young mistress’s command, his hopes of survival were crushed. His face twisted into the same agonized grin as the protagonist of Fire Punch—a man forced to endure unspeakable suffering.

The young mistress, having finished disciplining the "born-evil old hag," now turned toward Ye Cheng, radish in hand.

Ye Cheng smiled through the pain, gulping. "L-Look, Young Mistress, you know me—I would never—"

THUD!

Ye Cheng—OUT!!!

His eyes rolled back, his legs stiffened—his life, too, had been "straightened out."

Squish.

The young mistress, barefoot, planted her heel on Ye Cheng’s head and began grinding it into the floor—harder, harder, harder…