[Arrival — 10:25 PM]
The car pulled into the private entrance, tires crunching softly on the gravel drive.
Lin Mansion loomed before them in the darkness—enormous and magnificent, its silhouette cutting sharp angles against the night sky. Every clean line and gleaming surface spoke of the Lin family's electronics empire, built from nothing in just one generation.
Lin Feng's gaze drifted past the main house to the power building behind it. Through a reinforced window, he could see strange metallic rods submerged in churning water.
For just a moment, he thought he caught something—a faint blue shimmer in the water, there and gone so fast he wasn't sure he'd seen it at all. Steam rose from vents nearby, curling pale against the night sky.
Something about that building made his skin prickle. The hairs on his forearms rose, though the night wasn't cold.
He watched it for a long moment, trying to place the wrongness he felt.
The driver didn't even glance at it as he stepped out to open their doors, and the security staff at the gate stood with their backs to it like it didn't exist. To everyone here, it was as if it was all completely routine—just background noise, another piece of infrastructure they'd long stopped noticing.
What the hell is that thing?
Lin Feng looked at the structure for just a moment longer, then he turned his gaze away from that mysterious heating system. Tonight had more pressing concerns for him after all.
The main house stood dark. Whoever was living there—his father, his stepmother—they must be asleep already.
Meanwhile, his wing of the mansion had a separate entrance on the east side, giving him privacy and independence—one of many privileges that came with being the young master of the Lin family.
The driver parked the car and killed the engine. The sudden silence felt heavy.
Lin Weiwei hadn't said a word since the cinema. Somewhere along the drive, her hand had found his on the gear shift, her fingers threading through his like it was the most natural thing in the world. She'd held on the entire way home, her thumb tracing small circles against his skin.
Now she released him reluctantly, her fingertips trailing across his palm before falling away. She stared straight ahead for a moment, her chest rising and falling with a breath she seemed to be steadying.
They stepped out into the cool night air. A low, rhythmic hum reached them now—steady and mechanical, thrumming from the power building like a heartbeat.
Their footsteps fell into an easy rhythm as they walked toward his entrance, side by side, shoulders nearly brushing. Neither spoke, but the silence between them felt full rather than empty—weighted with everything that had happened tonight and everything that might happen next.
The breeze carried the faint scent of jasmine from the garden, and somewhere in the distance, a night bird called once and went quiet.
Neither of them hurried.
------------------------------
[10:30 PM]
They walked upstairs together, their footsteps echoing softly in the empty hallway. The main house's residents were long asleep.
When they reached his bedroom door, Lin Weiwei stopped.
She was fidgeting again, her fingers twisting together in front of her as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
"Big Brother..."
"Yes?"
She bit her lip and looked down at her feet. Her voice came out small when she finally spoke.
"I'm... I'm still really scared. From the movie."
Lin Feng turned to face her fully, one eyebrow raised slightly.
"Are you now?"
She nodded quickly—too quickly—her eyes wide and aggressively sincere.
"Very scared. What if the ghost follows me home?"
"Weiwei."
"Yes?"
"We watched the same movie when we were eight. You weren't scared then."
Her face flushed immediately, caught in the obvious lie.
"I'm… I'm more sensitive now! Older! I'm more... more aware of ghosts now!"
He studied her for a long moment, reading her every micro-expression. The way her gaze kept darting to his face and then away. The pink creeping up her neck. The slight tremor in her clasped hands.
She's adorable when she lies. Completely transparent. Utterly shameless.
And she knew he knew. Yet she pressed forward anyway.
My silly Weiwei.
Finally, he spoke.
"So what do you want?"
She took a breath, visibly gathering her courage.
"Can I... can I sleep in your room tonight?"
There it was. The request hung between them, heavy with implications.
"You want to sleep in my room."
"Just for tonight!" she rushed to add. "Because of the ghost! That scary... very scary ghost might follow me!"
"Mm-hmm. The ghost."
"I'm serious! What if something happens?"
His expression remained neutral, but something flickered in his eyes. Amusement, maybe. Or satisfaction.
"Alright."
She blinked. "Really?"
"But we need to shower first. It's late."
Lin Weiwei froze completely.
"W-what?"
"It's late. We both need to shower before bed." He pushed open his bedroom door and stepped inside. "Come in."
She stood rooted to the spot, her mind racing.
Shower? Bath? Together? Separate? What does he mean by that?
"Weiwei." His voice called from inside. "Are you coming in or not?"
Lin Weiwei hurried after him, her heart pounding against her ribs.
------------------------------
[10:32 PM]
His room was massive.
At two-hundred square meters, his bedroom alone was already bigger than most apartments out there.
Modern design with expensive furniture, a king-size bed dressed in dark sheets, premium everything. The kind of space that screamed old money and new success.
But it wasn't organized to his taste yet. This was still the original Lin Feng's room, the one he'd replaced just this morning. Less than twenty-four hours since the transmigration, and everything was still arranged the way that fool had left it.
Lin Weiwei had been here before, many times actually, for a whole lot of 'personal' reasons. But never like this. Never with the intention of sleeping here, never after asking to stay.
The air felt different tonight—charged and intimate and dangerous.
She walked further inside, hyper-aware of every detail. The scent of his cologne lingering faintly. The soft carpet beneath her feet. The way the moonlight fell through the curtains.
Then she saw it.
A picture frame on the bedside table. Lin Feng and Su Qingxue, a vacation photo at Niagara Falls in the State of Seneca—one of the Union's eastern provinces.
He was standing beside her with careful distance between them. Not intimate. Not even close. Just... there. Orbiting. Like the pathetic simp he used to be—spending money on international trips, taking her to romantic destinations, showering her with gifts and attention.
And she still kept that distance.
Lin Weiwei's expression changed instantly. Something cold flickered in her eyes, and her jaw tightened.
She walked straight to the bedside table, picked up the frame, and laid it face-down on the surface.
Deliberately. Decisively. Right in front of Lin Feng.
She wasn't hiding it, wasn't being sneaky about it. Direct action. Clear message.
She doesn't belong here anymore.
Lin Feng watched in silence, his lips curving slightly at the corners.
My little sister is quite possessive. I wonder what she'll do next.
She turned to face him, chin lifted slightly—defiant, possessive, claiming territory.
He didn't object. He didn't defend Su Qingxue. He didn't even say a word.
Perfect.
She was pleased. Very pleased.
He gestured toward the bathroom.
"You can shower first."
Lin Weiwei nodded and grabbed her overnight bag from her shoulder. She'd brought it with her, had prepared this entire scenario in advance—clothes, toiletries, everything she needed.
Lin Feng glanced at the bag. It was substantial. Not a "grabbed a few things just in case" bag, but a "I have been planning this for days" bag.
She is so scared of ghosts that she prepared an entire overnight bag in advance.
Lin Feng noticed the corner of a skincare bottle poking out, what looked like a neatly folded change of clothes, and was that a hairdryer? She'd packed a hairdryer to flee from ghosts.
Then his eyes caught something else. A small box had shifted loose from beneath her pajamas—the kind that came in packs of three, wrapped in discreet foil squares.
Something compact and discreet, the kind sold behind pharmacy counters with deliberately vague packaging.
Next to it sat a small bottle with a pump cap, the liquid inside viscous and clear and slippery-looking.
He recognized both immediately.
...
My dear Weiwei… I know we're not blood related and everything but…
How can I dare call you Little Sister with this…
When your ghost haunting requires… protection.
A very thorough and intimate haunting?
He said nothing, just watched her with those knowing eyes.
Lin Weiwei felt his gaze lingering on the bag and her ears turned a deep shade of pink. She clutched it tighter against her body, as if she could somehow hide the evidence of her premeditation.
"I... I just like to be prepared," she mumbled, not meeting his eyes. "For emergencies."
"Ghost emergencies."
"Yes. Exactly. Ghost emergencies."
His gaze flickered to the bag one more time—specifically to where that suspicious pouch was hiding—then back to her face. His expression remained perfectly neutral, but something glinted in his eyes that made her want to dig a hole and bury herself.
The silence stretched for exactly two seconds before she turned and fled toward the bathroom, her face now completely crimson.
------------------------------
[10:35 PM]
Lin Weiwei reached the bathroom door and stopped, one hand on the handle. Then she turned back to look at him, still flushed but with a new determination in her eyes.
"Big Brother..."
"Yes?"
"Can you..." She twisted the bag strap in her hands, her voice dropping to barely a whisper. "Can you come with me?"
He raised an eyebrow.
"NO! Not IN the shower!" She rushed to clarify, waving one hand frantically. "Just... just guard the door! From outside!"
"Guard the door from ghosts."
"Yes! Exactly! What if the ghost appears while I'm showering?"
His expression remained perfectly neutral, but she caught the slight curve tugging at the corner of his mouth. He was laughing at her internally, and they both knew it.
"Please?" She clasped her hands together and tried her best pitiful expression.
"Alright."
------------------------------
The bathroom was large and luxurious, all marble and chrome with a glass shower enclosure. Everything expensive and perfect.
Just like him.
She entered and closed the door behind her, but she didn't let it latch. Just a crack, a slight opening. Deliberate and intentional.
Outside, Lin Feng sat down with his back against the wall beside the door. He noticed immediately that it wasn't fully closed.
She'd left it open for him.
An invitation? A test? Or both?
"I'll be right outside," Lin Feng said calmly.
Inside, the water ran and the sound filled the silence between them.
Lin Weiwei stood under the hot spray with her eyes closed and her heart racing. She was hyper-aware of everything—of him right outside, just beyond that door. The door she'd left open.
What am I thinking? This is insane!
But she wanted this. Wanted him close. Wanted him aware. Wanted... everything.
She tried to shower quickly, going through the motions mechanically. Shampoo, conditioner, body wash. Her hands were shaking slightly the entire time.
He could look. He could come in. He could...
Do I want him to?
The thought made her face burn hotter than the water.
Yes. Yes, I want him to.
I left the door open for him. I'm naked and he's right there with just a door between us. Not even a closed door.
What am I doing?
But she knew exactly what she was doing. Testing. Inviting. Seducing.
Outside, Lin Feng sat motionless, hearing every sound. The water hitting skin. Her movements. Even her breathing.
The door was open, slightly, and she'd left it that way on purpose. She knew he'd notice. Knew what it meant.
She was in there—naked, vulnerable, trusting.
Wanting.
His every instinct screamed at him, but he restrained himself. He didn't look and didn't enter. Just waited patiently.
Finally, the water stopped. He heard the sounds of her drying off and changing clothes before the door finally opened fully.
She emerged in sleep clothes—comfortable pajamas in modest cotton. But intentionally or not, her exquisite figure made everything she wore look provocative. Her hair was still damp, her face fresh and clean, her skin glowing from the heat.
Beautiful. Devastatingly beautiful.
"Your turn, Big Brother."
You really don't make things easy for me, Weiwei…
He stood, his gaze lingering on her for just a moment longer than necessary.
Lin Weiwei here. Xiao Yue somewhere out there. Two women who've already decided I'm theirs.
And I'm not even the Lin Feng either of you fell for.
The thought settled somewhere uncomfortable in his chest. The original Lin Feng—that foolish simp—was the one who'd been kind to her for years. The one who gave her gifts, shared meals with her, made her feel like family when she was just a scared child in a strange house.
You love him. Not me.
I just... inherited you.
He looked at her standing there, waiting for him with that mix of nervousness and hope in her eyes.
And I want you. I'd be lying if I said otherwise.
I read your story. All ten thousand chapters of it. I know who you are, what you've been through, how fiercely you love.
But I'm not Long Tian.
I won't just take what his system hands him. I won't treat you like a conquest or a reward.
The guilt flickered, acknowledged, then set aside.
The original Lin Feng is gone. I can't change that. But I can honor what he left behind.
If you're going to love me, it'll be because I earned it. Not because I stole his place.
And if that means being patient... then I'll be patient.
You're worth that much.
"Big Brother?" She tilted her head, noticing his silence. "Is something wrong?"
He shook his head and walked past her toward the bathroom, letting his hand brush against hers as he passed—brief, warm, deliberate.
"Nothing. Just making sure you didn't bring any ghosts out with you."
------------------------------
"Will you guard the door from ghosts?"
Lin Weiwei nodded quickly. "Of course!"
He entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him—but not all the way. He left it slightly open, just a crack. Not wide, but enough.
Lin Weiwei's eyes widened.
He'd done exactly what she did. Turned it around. Reversed the roles.
This man...
She sat down outside the bathroom in exactly the spot where he'd sat before, her back against the wall and her knees drawn up to her chest. The water started running, and she could hear everything—water hitting his body, movement sounds, the routine of showering.
She was burning up. Her face flushed red and her heart pounded so hard she could feel it in her throat. She couldn't move.
He's in there. Naked. Right there.
One door. Slightly open.
She couldn't peek. Wouldn't peek.
But she could hear every single sound.
She sat frozen, completely still, not even daring to breathe loudly. Just... listening. This was torture—sweet, delicious torture.
Only a few minutes passed, but it felt like the longest minutes of her life.
Finally, the water stopped.
Her heart nearly exploded. He was drying off in there, almost about to emerge.
She scrambled up from the floor and tried to look casual, smoothing down her pajamas and leaning against the wall with what she hoped was a relaxed posture.
As expected, she failed completely.
The door opened fully and Lin Feng emerged in a simple t-shirt and sleep pants, his hair still damp and his whole demeanor relaxed and comfortable.
He saw her standing there awkwardly, caught and obviously flustered.
"Thank you for guarding me," he said with perfect seriousness.
"N-no problem!"
------------------------------
[11:05 PM]
Lin Feng glanced at her hair, still damp from her shower.
"Sit." He gestured to the corner of the bed.
"Hm?"
He retrieved a hairdryer from the bathroom, returned, and plugged it in.
"You'll catch cold."
Lin Weiwei sat obediently, her heart racing again as she felt the mattress dip slightly when he moved behind her.
He stood behind her and turned on the dryer. Warm air flowed over her scalp, and his fingers ran through her hair with gentle, careful movements—untangling the wet strands, lifting sections to dry them evenly.
She closed her eyes.
This feels intimate in a way I didn't expect. Domestic. Like we're already married.
Several minutes passed as her hair dried under his patient attention. Neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the hum of the dryer and her own heartbeat thundering in her ears.
"Done." He turned off the dryer.
She stood quickly, flustered by how much she'd enjoyed that.
"Y-your turn!"
Before he could object, she grabbed the dryer from his hands and pointed to where she'd been sitting.
He raised an eyebrow, amused.
But he sat down anyway.
She moved behind him and turned on the dryer, her fingers trembling slightly as they touched his head. His hair was shorter, easier to manage, but still... touching him like this, standing over him, her fingers in his hair...
So many of my dreams are finally coming true tonight.
"Done," she whispered finally, her voice barely audible over the dying whir of the dryer.
------------------------------
[11:15 PM]
Lin Weiwei looked at the bed again. The king-size mattress loomed before them, and she found herself wondering when such a large bed had started to feel so... small.
"Uhmm… Big Brother… which side...?" she asked hesitantly.
"Whichever you prefer."
She chose the left side, away from the door. Safer. Cornered. Where escape is never an option.
If I was painting myself into a corner before, now I'm basically pouring entire paint cans over any possible exit.
They both got in and slipped under the covers, the lights still on. Lin Feng lay near the center while Lin Weiwei pressed herself against the left edge of the bed, an ocean of sheets between them. The initial distance felt like the farthest point they would ever be tonight.
Both of them stared at the ceiling.
"Comfortable?" he asked.
"Yes."
Silence stretched between them.
"Still scared?"
She swallowed. "A little."
He reached over to the nightstand and turned off the lights.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Just them. The dark. The bed. The sound of their breathing suddenly loud in the quiet.
Everything became overwhelmingly intimate.
------------------------------
Lin Weiwei lay still for a long moment, listening to her own heartbeat pound in her ears.
Then she moved.
It was hesitant at first. A small shift toward the center. A few inches closer. She held her breath, waiting for him to say something, to stop her, to ask what she was doing.
He didn't.
So she moved again. And again. Closing the distance between them bit by bit until she could feel the heat of his body through the thin cotton of their clothes.
And then she was against him.
Her head found his shoulder. Her arm draped across his waist. Her body curled into his side like it had always belonged there.
"For warmth," she whispered. "And safety."
She pressed her face against his shoulder to hide her embarrassment.
My excuses are getting thinner by the minute, she thought, but she didn't care anymore.
He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer. She tucked perfectly against his side, her body fitting into the curve of his like she'd always belonged there.
Comfortable. Natural. Like they'd done this forever.
"Better?"
"Much better."
They lay together in comfortable silence for a while, the room so quiet she could hear nothing but his heartbeat steady under her ear. His warmth surrounded her like a cocoon.
------------------------------
Then she spoke, her voice soft in the darkness.
"Big Brother... remember when my mother and I first moved in?"
He searched for the memory. It came like reaching through murky water—shapes he could almost grasp, feelings that weren't quite his.
A small girl. Angry eyes. The sound of something breaking.
And underneath, an ache that didn't belong to him: a child's loneliness, a desperate hope that maybe this new sister would like him.
"You hated me."
She flinched against him, her body tensing under his arm.
"I... I was awful to you."
More images surfaced, triggered by her words. A toy thrown in the trash. An empty seat at the dinner table. A door slammed so hard the frame shook. Each memory carried its own weight—hurt that had settled into this body long before he arrived.
"You threw my toys away," he said slowly, unsure, the memories getting elusive inside his head as he spoke them aloud. "I remember you refused to eat meals with me. Said you didn't want anything from me or my family."
Her grip tightened around his waist, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt.
"I don't know why I was like that. I was just... so mean to you. For years."
"You were five. And scared. And in a new place." He gave her a gentle squeeze, his thumb tracing slow circles on her shoulder. "I understand."
The words came out easily. Too easily. Like reciting something he'd read rather than something he'd lived.
A small girl. Angry eyes. A toy in the trash.
The images floated in his head, disconnected. Pieces of a puzzle that didn't quite fit together.
But she was warm against him. Real. Here, with him.
Whatever happened back then—it was just fog now.
"That's not an excuse." Her voice cracked. "You were kind. You kept trying. You shared everything even when I rejected you."
She shifted against him, pressing closer as if the proximity could erase years of guilt. Her breath was warm against his collarbone, her heartbeat quick against his ribs.
"You gave me gifts on my birthday even when I ignored you. Made me food even when I wouldn't eat with you."
The memories flickered with her words—wrapping paper torn and discarded, a plate of food gone cold and untouched, a small boy sitting alone at a table meant for two.
And alongside them, something else surfaced: a woman's face. Beautiful but cold. Her eyes sliding over the young Lin Feng with barely concealed contempt, even as she smiled at his father across the room.
Her mother.
That woman...
In the novel, she was the serpent in the garden. The one who would coordinate with Su Qingxue to bring the Lin family to ruin. The one who whispered poison into her daughter's ear for years and made her suffer for eight years.
I need to deal with her. Soon. Before she does any more damage.
But that was a problem for tomorrow. Tonight, Lin Weiwei was in his arms.
"I just wanted you to feel at home," he said.
And somehow, he knew that was true. Whatever else the original Lin Feng had been—a simp, a fool, a blind idiot chasing after Su Qingxue—he had genuinely tried with this girl. Year after year. Rejection after rejection.
If anything, that was the only good thing that old Lin Feng had done in his life.
And I inherited the rewards of his persistence.
"It took me so long to realize... to see past..." She trailed off. "I don't even know what was wrong with me."
I do.
You were five years old when someone told you that you were going to be someone's child bride. Of course you'd hate him.
Then there was your mother. Whispering poison every day. Sharpening you into a weapon against the Lin family.
And you—you were also a heroine. One of Long Tian's destined women. Heroines aren't supposed to like the villain.
But here you are...
"But somewhere along the way, I started seeing you. Really seeing you."
Her fingers curled tighter into his shirt, bunching the fabric.
"And I realized... you were home. You always were. Even when I was too stupid to know it."
His hand found her hair, stroking gently. The motion felt natural—whether his instinct or the original's, he couldn't tell anymore. The line between them blurred more with every passing hour.
"You're here now. That's what matters."
Silence settled over them, soft and heavy. The only sounds were their breathing and the quiet hum of the night outside.
"Remember after that incident?" she asked eventually. "When I waited for you to wake up? When I told you that I will be nicer to you? That I will never be the bad girl nor will I treat you badly anymore?"
He reached for the memory. Found fragments—white lights overhead, a younger Weiwei crying out loud while saying I'm sorry so many times, and his body almost unable to move, with all sorts of tubes connecting him to so many machines.
The images were there. But distant. Like watching someone else's life through frosted glass.
"You kept that promise," he said quietly.
"I started keeping everything you gave me." Her voice was muffled against his chest, thick with old shame. "I still have that notebook you gave me the day before that happened to you... to us."
Notebook. Eighth grade.
And what was this incident she was talking about?
He searched. The memory slipped away before he could grasp it. In the end, he only saw something akin to watching a very corrupted movie—frames missing, audio cutting in and out, faces blurred beyond recognition.
The hospital. The crying girl. The tubes.
How did those connect to an incident?
What incident?
The harder he reached, the more it dissolved.
"The one you said was ugly?"
He was guessing. She'd given him the answer without realizing it.
"I lied." A small, self-deprecating laugh escaped her. "It was beautiful. I still even have it with me. Though I haven't used it yet, maybe I will... one day."
A pause. Her fingers loosened against his shirt, then tightened again.
"I..."
Another pause, longer this time. He could feel her heartbeat quickening where her chest pressed against his ribs.
"By high school... I knew."
"Knew what?" he asked quietly.
"That I..." She hesitated, her whole body going rigid against him. "That I loved you. As my brother, of course. I... I also have wronged you."
The pause before "as my brother" stretched too long. The addition came too late.
And the second part—"I also have wronged you"—hung in the air between them.
Wronged me?
How?
[End of Chapter 19]