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Just a sister.
It could only be a sister.
Zhou Tingyun calmly reflected that he hadn’t actually intended to do anything.
If she wanted to cling to him like a toy, let her cling.
When she found a more appealing toy, she would naturally let go. Even then, he would still be her brother—a regular family member who would stay in touch during holidays.
Seeing his unyielding attitude, Zhou Lao, unable to contain his anger any longer, said in a suppressed voice, “Do you think she’ll be able to become independent like this? What boyfriend would accept a brother like you?”
Zhou Tingyun’s eyes darkened slightly.
He had already tried the price of distance. Four years of deliberate separation hadn’t extinguished those inappropriate feelings but had instead allowed the accumulated longing to grow into vines that covered his chest, tightening their grip inch by inch.
A single spark would be enough to ignite a wildfire.
Zhou Tingyun hadn’t intended to possess her, but he couldn’t bear to lose her again.
So, he would wait—for her to grow up, to understand her own heart—until her dependence shifted to another person, at which point he would reclaim his rightful place.
…
Outside the door.
Zhou Siyu spoke softly, “Don’t be too sad. I didn’t expect that brother Tingyun would treat you so well, only to see you as a sister.”
What else could it be?
“If he doesn’t see me as a sister, then what else could he see me as?” Ming Zhao asked, puzzled.
Zhou Siyu was momentarily taken aback.
…How was it that she, like Shang Man, seemed to understand nothing? Or was it her own way of expressing things that was the problem?
Didn’t she like Zhou Tingyun? How could she not react to this?
At that moment, as Ming Zhao’s words left her mouth, she suddenly froze.
It seemed to take her a few seconds to comprehend what Zhou Siyu meant.
Isn’t this just a cliché from a drama?
What’s the typical plot again?
Oh, the male lead finally realizes his feelings and goes through a ‘wife-chasing’ arc.
Wait, ‘wife’?
“Zhao Zhao, do you know what they’re all saying now? They’re saying you and Zhou Tingyun—”
Gu He’s voice suddenly rang in her ears.
Saying what?
“A normal brother-sister relationship is just like this. Look at the siblings from the Lu family in the neighboring Jing City…” It was Lin Zhiwei’s voice.
“Perhaps you’ve heard of taboo relationships? It refers to older brothers and younger sisters…” Aire chattered on.
Ming Zhao felt her head starting to swirl as if it were boiling over.
What were the boundaries of familial love?
A hazy fog in her mind seemed to be gradually clearing, forming something vaguely discernible.
Then, a flash of bright red caught her eye, stark against his pale skin, scattering her thoughts. She snapped back to reality, breaking free from Zhou Siyu’s grasp and rushing inside.
“…Zhao Zhao?”
Zhou Lao looked surprised at the pink projectile that had suddenly flown in.
Before he could say anything, he saw the projectile embed itself in the arms of a certain outwardly respectable but inwardly depraved individual.
“…”
Zhou Tingyun frowned, casually putting his arm around her shoulders and wrapping the shirt, which had been draped over his arm, around her again.
“You…”
He had intended to ask her what had happened but stopped abruptly.
The girl in front of him was pouting at him, her eyes visibly welling up, her nose red, looking exceptionally pitiful.
Ming Zhao had never taken care of anyone before and didn’t know what to do. All she could think of was how, when she had fallen and scraped her knees, her brother would gently cup her face and blow on her wounds.
So, she stood on tiptoe, reaching up to wipe the blood from his face, and blew on it twice, mimicking his actions.
She pursed her lips and softly asked, “Does it still hurt?”
A feather-light touch landed on his heart.
His eyes flickered, and Zhou Tingyun suppressed the urge to kiss her eyes as he had done when she was a child. He gently brushed his fingertip against the slightly reddened corner of her eye.
“It’s fine,” his voice softened as he reassured her. “It doesn’t hurt.”
Zhou Lao, witnessing their tender interaction, felt dizzy, his vision blurring.
This was scandalous, utterly scandalous.
How was he going to face Ming Zheng??
“I’m sorry. Although you kindly took in my estranged grandson, not only is he ungrateful, but he’s also trying to take your daughter away.”
The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. He slammed his hand on the table.
“Get out! All of you!”
His furious roar startled Ming Zhao, and she burrowed into Zhou Tingyun’s arms. The man tightened his arm around her shoulders comfortingly.
Carefully meeting Zhou Lao’s gaze, Ming Zhao immediately raised her hands in surrender.
“Grandpa, you can’t scold me after scolding him.”
Zhou Lao was speechless.
This little rascal!
Meanwhile, a faint smile appeared in the man’s eyes. “Let’s go. Let’s go to bed.”
“Wait,” Zhou Lao called out cautiously, “Which guest room is Zhao Zhao staying in?”
“She’s sleeping in my master bedroom,” Zhou Tingyun said, “and I’ll sleep in the guest room on the second floor.”
Both on the second floor? No, no, absolutely not.
“You, go to the third floor,” Zhou Lao commanded.
…
In the living room, Ming Zhao sat nervously, watching as the family doctor dressed Zhou Tingyun’s wound.
The family doctor was specifically employed to care for Zhou Lao. At his age, his health wasn’t what it used to be, making it crucial to have prompt medical treatment for even minor injuries.
“Alright, don’t get the wound wet for the next few days, and avoid spicy food,” the doctor instructed.
After the doctor left, Ming Zhao clung to the man’s arm, her gaze repeatedly drifting to the bandaged area on his forehead. “Does it really not hurt?”
“You need to listen to the doctor. Absolutely no water, and eat light foods.”
Zhou Tingyun’s heart softened, but before he could say anything, he heard an infuriating remark reached his ears.
“Otherwise, brother will have a scar and be disfigured, and that wouldn’t be pretty.”
“…” The man glanced at her. “You have a little conscience, but not much.”
She quickly tried to make amends. “It’s okay. Even if you have a scar, I won’t dislike you.”
“Don’t be flippant.” Zhou Tingyun pinched her cheek.
Before she could cry out in pain, his fingertips slid down to her chin, gently holding it.
“When did you come to the study? Did you hear anything?” he suddenly asked.
She was startled and honestly shook her head. “Just now.”
Although Ming Zhao had been raised in a pampered environment, she wasn’t completely oblivious. While abroad, she had often encountered situations that broadened her perspective.
There were blonde, blue-eyed handsome men confessing their feelings to her, tall athletes pestering her to ask if they could be her ‘dog,’ and others inviting her to strange parties.
She considered herself to be emotionally aware, yet Zhou Tingyun held a unique position in her life. He was different from those other men.
He embodied too many emotions—traits of a mother, a father, and an older brother—all concentrated in one person, making her subconscious to resist those vague, yet-to-be-formed thoughts.
Blood ties were an eternal bond, which was why she brushed aside the faint discomfort she felt upon hearing that comment.
The hallway lights cast a soft glow, and the silence was so deep that their footsteps were absorbed by the plush carpet.
Zhou Tingyun lowered his gaze to examine her expression, then looked away after a moment.
“Do you really have to go to the third floor?” The girl’s voice was a bit timid.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s too quiet,” she replied.
She disliked overly quiet environments but rarely voiced it, so her parents and Zhou Tingyun had never been particularly aware.
“If you’re scared, just video call me later,” Zhou Tingyun said. “Keep the phone beside you and don’t hang up.”
It wasn’t unusual for her to be afraid of sleeping alone.
In the past, she would sneak into Zhou Tingyun’s bed, only to be picked up by the collar and tossed out, followed by a stern lecture.
She had fought this battle many times, and eventually, when she tried again, she discovered he had locked the door.
That led to quite a commotion—with chaos ensuing.
In the end, Zhou Tingyun was softened by a pool of tears. Helplessly held her, soothing her with gentle words, using a soft towel to wipe her face, and promising never to lock the door again.
Ming Zhao pondered.
Should she give it another try?