Chapter 2

Take two bites.
Ying Tao blanked out for a few beats. For a second she even thought she’d heard wrong, so she pulled the phone away and checked the screen. The number was correct—registered in Liaobei.
After Ying Baiqing graduated from the National University of Defense Technology, he’d been assigned to the Liaobei Theater Command. Going to Liaobei had been his own application. He could have stayed in the capital on a cushier post, but he didn’t want to, and that was how he ended up on the border.
Ying Tao had been unhappy at the beginning. She didn’t want Ying Baiqing to leave. But he’d promised her again and again that he would come back to see her often.
She had believed him, honestly believing he would keep his word.
In the end, the times he came back were so few they could be counted on one hand. Even during holidays, he barely called. Ying Tao was furious—furious that he had lied to her. Yet whenever he did call, she couldn’t help softening, couldn’t help giving in.
Now, with the number in front of her, she double-checked it carefully. The location matched, the digits matched. She hesitated, then brought the phone back to her ear.
“Gege?”
The person on the other end let out a muffled, amused laugh. “So good. Say it one more time—I want to hear it.”
This time she recognized the voice. Her brows drooped in instant exasperation.
“He Mingye. Are you bored or what?”
Then she frowned again. “Why are you with my brother? Where is he?”
It was Ying Baiqing’s number—there was no mistake. So how had it ended up in He Mingye’s hands?
“What?” he drawled, half-laughing. “I’m not your brother?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Peacock.” She shot back, unimpressed. “Weren’t you ‘cultivating yourself’ overseas? You finally willing to come back?”
She’d tried to block out anything related to him, but she still knew what he’d been up to these past few years: preparing for a global tour. Besides, there was a fanatic in her dorm who live-updated her on his every move.
She’d heard his Los Angeles show had been a huge success. Unlike the kind of tour that was just an artist hyping himself up, He Mingye was one of the rare singers who had truly crossed borders.
Music had no nationality. Talent had no ceiling.
In this fast-paced era—where influencer songs surged, where cheap, mindless hits flooded everywhere—he could still punch through the noise and break the deadlock.
No matter how much she wanted to ignore him, she had to admit it: people worshiped him as a “god” because he really did have the ability to shut every doubter up.
He gave a short scoff, his voice lazy. “You make it sound like you really don’t want me back.”
Ying Tao muttered, “As if I’d dare. I’m just afraid certain people got so comfortable they forgot the way home.”
A faint, ambiguous snort of laughter came through.
Then the phone rustled—soft shuffling sounds—and a moment later, a different voice came on, clear and gentle.
“Tao-tao.”
This time Ying Tao stayed wary. She tested, probing on purpose:
“He Xiaogou? Peacock? He—”
The other party couldn’t help laughing and cut her off. “Tao-tao, it’s me.”
Ying Tao choked on her words for a moment, then asked vaguely, “Gege… why are you with—him? Are you back in the capital?”
“Just arrived,” Ying Baiqing said, standing up.
He’d moved farther away; the people around him couldn’t hear what the siblings were saying.
Zhou Lubai only caught that sweet, soft “gege,” and he actually shuddered.
“Damn, Little Peach’s voice is really sweet,” he said. “She says ‘gege’ like that and even I’m moved. Who could stand it? You think Old Ying would give his sister to me?”
Shen Minglin let out a mocking laugh. “Don’t let certain people hear you, or you’ll get beaten.”
He was clearly hinting at someone, but Zhou Lubai was never good at reading between lines.
“Who?” Zhou Lubai blinked, then understood. “Old Ying? Yeah, that dead serious siscon is hard to deal with. But if I had a sister that obedient, I’d take a beating for it too.”
“Obedient?” Shen Minglin looked at him like he’d grown an extra head. “Do you even know what obedient means? That little ancestor—besides her brother, who can keep her in check? You didn’t see how fed up Young Master gets around her?”
Zhou Lubai glanced over from a distance.
He Mingye sat in the sofa with a lazy sprawl, long legs braced against the coffee table. His expression was flat, but the slight downward press of his brow and the tightness of his lips made it obvious: his mood was not good. The air around him seemed to drop a few degrees.
Zhou Lubai raised a brow, unconvinced. “Aren’t they always like this—bickering and making noise? It’s only been quiet for the last two or three years. Besides, how could Little Peach have the ability to piss off Young Master? She’s not that powerful.”
“Your uncle picked the wrong major,” Shen Minglin said with a thin, sarcastic smile. “Why look at teeth? He should look at your brain.”
“Fuck off,” Zhou Lubai cursed immediately. “Fox Shen, you trying to fight?”
Shen Minglin pushed up his glasses. “Think carefully. Your uncle told me to keep an eye on you. Whether you get your precious ride back on time—I have veto power.”
Zhou Lubai went instantly mute.
He’d only just gotten close enough to touch his LaFerrari when Zhou Chaoli had confiscated the keys. He’d been given a three-month deadline: behave for three months and the car would be returned. If not, he would never touch that car again—and not only that, even the other supercars in the garage would be sold off.
With the three months almost up, Zhou Lubai had to swallow his pride. He forced a grin.
“I’m kidding. I meant—are you too stiff? Want me to help loosen you up?”
Shen Minglin laughed without mercy. Zhou Lubai felt his face burn, but with his lifeline in the other man’s hands, he couldn’t do anything.
He looked up and saw Ying Baiqing step out onto the balcony to take the call, probably because the siblings had private words to share. They were used to his way of being—complete and total little-sister worship. If anyone touched that line, he would flip on the spot.
Zhou Lubai suddenly remembered something. “Speaking of which… I think I saw Little Peach at my uncle’s place a few days ago.”
Zhou Chaoli was technically his “uncle,” but in truth he wasn’t that much older than them. Old Master Zhou had had his youngest son late, past fifty, which made Zhou Chaoli’s position awkward: by seniority he was a generation above, yet in age he wasn’t far from them. Calling him “uncle” too often felt strange.
But Zhou Chaoli wasn’t like their bunch. He was gentle, careful, thoughtful—so sensible he’d never given the family any trouble. The only time he’d really clashed with the Zhou elders was when he chose medicine. No matter how Old Master Zhou raged, Zhou Chaoli refused to budge. In the end, the family had to compromise.
Normally Zhou Chaoli didn’t mingle with them. They only saw him during holidays when the families visited each other.
“You know, Little Peach really grew up,” Zhou Lubai said. “She’s prettier than she used to be. No wonder Old Ying’s on guard. If I had a sister that fresh and pretty, I wouldn’t sleep at night—scared some shameless brat would steal her.”
Last week Zhou Lubai had gone to the hospital to pick up medicine for the old lady. Following instructions, he’d swung by to check on Zhou Chaoli. He hadn’t even reached the door when he spotted Ying Tao from far away.
She had a mask on, face covered, but Zhou Lubai’s eyesight had passed pilot selection standards. Besides, they’d grown up together—he could recognize her even by her silhouette.
It was only a fleeting glimpse. She went into the consultation room and the door shut. He didn’t know what they talked about inside. He only knew he waited a long time before she finally came out.
When she left, her head was lowered, her eyes red, like she had been crying.
Zhou Lubai rubbed his chin. “Maybe she really will end up as family. From what I saw, she might still have feelings for my uncle.”
The moment he finished that line, he took a vicious kick to the leg.
“Ow!” Zhou Lubai yelped, frowning. “Why the hell did you kick me? Little Peach liking my uncle isn’t exactly a secret.”
“You all know it,” he went on. “That New Year, she confessed to my uncle. Weren’t you guys there?”
The families in their compound were close—ties built over generations and carried down. Even among the younger ones, the bond from growing up together ran deeper than ordinary siblinghood.
Every holiday they visited each other. That year, the reunion dinner happened to be at the Zhou family’s place. It was also a rare year—Zhou Chaoli, who hadn’t been back for two or three years, returned for the New Year.
After dinner, the younger crowd made a noisy fuss, insisting on going to the frozen river to set off fireworks. The adults couldn’t stop them, so they had to take them along.
Only Ying Tao refused. She was younger and hated the cold. No matter how they called, she wouldn’t move, hugging a pillow on the sofa and saying lazily, “What’s there to see? It’s the same three tricks every year. I’m not going.”
Fine. If she didn’t want to go, she didn’t want to go. Everyone was home. Zhou Chaoli was home. No one thought anything could happen.
They had been wrong.
Close to midnight, after they finished the fireworks, He Mingye also came back. He had just wrapped a Spring Festival Gala performance and rushed over. The venue was nearby, so the drive took only about half an hour—he made it back in time to count down the new year.
Not seeing Ying Tao, he lifted a brow. “Where’s the little shrimp?”
“Oh,” Zhou Lubai answered honestly. “She said it’s cold and didn’t come. She’s at home. My uncle is here too—nothing to worry about.”
He Mingye’s expression turned cold. “Your uncle is back?”
“Yeah. The old lady gave him an ultimatum—said he had to come home for the New Year. He only arrived this morning. He’s probably being dragged around right now, getting fussed over and pushed into blind dates.”
Even someone as outstanding as Zhou Chaoli couldn’t escape blind dates. The old lady had been planning since before the holiday: which family’s girl looked proper, which one had good character. Zhou Chaoli barely responded. If she hadn’t gotten angry, he probably wouldn’t have come back at all.
She’d gathered a whole matchmaking situation at the Zhou house. The girl was likely already there. Zhou Chaoli came out to hide from it—otherwise, in weather this cold, he wouldn’t be out leading a pack of little demons to play with fireworks.
Zhou Lubai had been freezing. “Let’s go back. I’m dying.”
To this day, he regretted saying that.
Because he never imagined the old lady wasn’t even home—and that inside the Zhou house, there were only Ying Tao and Zhou Chaoli.
That little ancestor usually stayed quiet. But when she made trouble, she made it huge.
Everyone except Ying Baiqing had been there that night. The moment they walked in, they caught her confessing to Zhou Chaoli.
The entire compound exploded into chaos. After that, Zhou Chaoli avoided coming back, and the old lady never dared force him to return for the New Year again.
Years had passed. If Zhou Lubai hadn’t happened to run into Ying Tao at Zhou Chaoli’s office, he would have almost forgotten.
Shen Minglin scoffed, cold. “Idiot.”
Zhou Lubai was baffled. “I’ve put up with you for ages. What the hell is your—”
He cut off abruptly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw He Mingye stand up.
Zhou Lubai blinked. “Young Master, where are you going?”
He Mingye didn’t look back. His voice, as always, carried that lazy drawl.
“Feeding the cat.”