The Zheng family was well known in the city. Though they were not considered a noble household, their wealth was undeniable, built on the sharp foresight of the family patriarch, who had once invested in a business that later soared. Old Man Zheng possessed an exceptional eye for opportunities, yet fate was far less kind to him when it came to the younger generation. His descendants were infamous for their incompetence, spending their days indulging in pleasure and extravagance, knowing nothing beyond how to play and squander the family fortune.
This time, it was the Zheng family patriarch's birthday celebration, and the Ming family had been invited as well. Just like in his past life, nothing had changed.
Ming Ze went up to his room and quietly closed the door behind him. He set his bag down on the bed and glanced around. The room was spotless, elegant—and utterly impersonal. It looked more like a guest room than a place meant for someone to live in.
He sat on the edge of the bed, took out his laptop, and was just about to start working when a knock sounded at the door.
"Gege, are you asleep?"
A soft, gentle voice came from outside.
Ming Ze paused for a moment before standing up and opening the door.
As expected.
It was his "lovely" younger brother.
"What do you want?" Ming Ze asked, his voice cool and distant.
Ming Yu visibly froze, clearly caught off guard by the lack of warmth. But he recovered quickly, his expression smoothing into its usual innocent smile.
"Gege," he said softly, sticking out his tongue in a playful, almost childlike manner. "Tomorrow, stay with me, okay? I'll introduce you to my friends. That way, if I'm not around, they can take care of you."
The words sounded considerate—almost thoughtful.
Almost.
Ming Ze stepped slightly out of the doorway.
Sure enough, Ming Gu was standing just down the hall, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze cold and unwelcoming as it rested on Ming Ze. He hadn't said a word, but his presence alone made his stance clear.
Ming Ze's expression remained calm, unreadable, as he looked back at Ming Yu.
Seeing this, Ming Yu's eyes instantly reddened, a thin layer of tears gathering as his voice softened.
"Gege, if you don't—"
"Sure."
Ming Ze cut him off before he could finish.
"I'll rely on you for that."
A faint smile curved Ming Ze's lips, polite and unthreatening.
Ming Yu stared at him in disbelief.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
He had been expecting Ming Ze to lash out—to sneer, to insult him, to reject him outright. That way, Ming Yu could play the victim again, could sigh helplessly and let others see how "unreasonable" his brother was.
But Ming Ze hadn't given him that chance.
The smile on Ming Ze's face was calm, even gentle—and it made Ming Yu's chest tighten for reasons he couldn't explain.
For the first time, the script slipped from Ming Yu's hands.
Ming Yu stood there for a moment longer, the tears in his eyes not quite falling, his expression awkwardly frozen. The sympathy he had been preparing to harvest never came.
Ming Ze's calm smile felt… wrong.
Ming Gu, who had been leaning against the wall with crossed arms, let out a quiet scoff. His gaze flicked toward Ming Ze, sharp and displeased, as if searching for flaws that weren't there.
"Tsk," Ming Gu said coldly. "Don't cause trouble tomorrow."
Ming Ze didn't respond. He merely nodded once, neither submissive nor defiant.
Ming Yu quickly masked his discomfort, forcing another small smile. "Then it's settled, gege. Get some rest. Tomorrow will be busy."
"Mm," Ming Ze replied lightly. "Good night."
The door closed softly between them.
The moment Ming Yu turned away, the sweetness drained from his expression. His fingers curled at his sides, nails digging into his palm. Something was wrong. Ming Ze was too calm—far too calm.
Inside the room, Ming Ze leaned back against the door for a brief second before walking back to the bed. The faint smile on his face slowly faded, replaced by a cool, thoughtful look.
This conversation had happened before.
In his past life, when Ming Yu had softly suggested introducing him to his friends, Ming Ze had rejected him outright.
Leave me alone, he had said coldly.
The moment those words left his mouth, everything spiraled.
Ming Gu appeared as if on cue. Without a word, he raised his hand and slapped Ming Ze hard across the face. The sharp sound echoed down the hallway.
"So ungrateful," Ming Gu had sneered. "Do you know how lucky you are? Ming Yu is willing to pity you, and you still dare to reject him?"
Before Ming Ze could even recover, the commotion had drawn their parents.
Ming Yu stood there with red eyes, tears clinging to his lashes, looking fragile and wronged. He didn't need to say a word.
That was enough.
Ming Feng's face darkened instantly. Song Yuran's expression turned cold and displeased. Without asking what happened, without hearing Ming Ze's side, they berated him mercilessly—calling him rude, ungrateful, shameless for hurting Ming Yu's feelings.
No one cared that Ming Ze was bleeding from the corner of his mouth.
No one cared what he wanted.
That was how it had always been.
Standing here now, reliving the same scene—but choosing a different response—Ming Ze finally understood something clearly.
It had never mattered what he said.
Only whether Ming Yu cried.
This time, he had smiled and agreed.
And just like that, the slap never came.
He sat down, opened his laptop again, and resumed working as if nothing had happened. Outside the window, the lights of the city flickered quietly, like distant stars scattered across the darkness.