The smell of lavender floor cleaner hung faintly in the air.
Gu Xi walked back through the living room, wiping down surfaces out of habit. Not because he was told to. He just disliked dust. He'd already wiped down the glass coffee table, rearranged the magazines, and straightened the cushions on the pink floral sofa.
As he adjusted the last corner, the front door clicked.
He paused, still holding the cleaning rag.
The heavy sound of boots on the tile came next. Measured. Steady. Not hurried, but not casual either.
A woman's rhythm.
Gu Xi turned toward the hallway.
There she was.
Gu Lin.
She didn't knock. Didn't announce herself. Just walked in like she owned the place—which, to be fair, she kind of did.
She pulled off her jacket, revealing a slim-fit school uniform tailored to her long, muscular figure. Her legs stretched endlessly under that short pleated skirt, toned and graceful like an athlete's. Her white shirt clung to her frame, collar popped slightly as though it'd been styled on purpose. She carried a fencing bag over one shoulder and a glossy white sports drink bottle in her other hand.
Her ponytail swayed with every step, and her face…
Let's just say, if beauty could cause national unrest, Gu Lin would've been a wanted criminal.
She was ranked second in the entire school on the "Top 10 Most Handsome Girls" list. Not "prettiest"—"handsome." Her sharp features and cold temperament attracted both boys and girls like moths to a flame. She had the aura of a female lead from an idol drama—the kind that made others lower their voices the moment she walked into a room.
To top it off, she was also a part-time model. Commercials for sneakers, skincare, even electric cars. Every other ad in this district had her face on it.
Gu Xi lowered his eyes slightly.
She hadn't noticed him yet. Or maybe she had, and just didn't bother to greet him.
Typical.
She walked straight past the living room, didn't even glance his way.
Then, her voice—cold, even—cut through the air.
"Where's the food?"
Gu Xi calmly finished folding the rag. Dried his hands on the towel beside the sink. Then he turned around and spoke without changing his tone.
"In the pot. You want some, serve yourself."
For a second, silence stretched between them.
Her eyes flicked up—sharper now.
"You're talking back?" she asked.
He met her gaze, dead-on.
"I'm replying," he said. "Didn't know that was forbidden."
She walked toward him. Not fast. Not slow.
But her steps were deliberate, each one carrying weight. The kind of walk only women in this world did when they knew they could look down on someone—literally and figuratively.
Gu Lin stood in front of him now.
At this distance, her height was almost suffocating. Long legs, lean frame, the subtle power in her shoulders. She looked down at him like someone deciding whether to step around a puddle or walk through it.
"Did you forget what kind of world this is?" she asked flatly.
"No," Gu Xi replied. "I remember very clearly."
"You're just a boy."
"I'm still a person."
There it was.
The tiniest twitch in her brow. A shift in her posture. Subtle, but real.
She hadn't expected him to say that.
The old Gu Xi—the original—would've mumbled something, ducked his head, and rushed to the kitchen to serve her with both hands. Grateful for a scrap of acknowledgment.
But this one?
This Gu Xi didn't flinch.
He didn't straighten his back or puff out his chest like a cartoon hero. He didn't need to. His tone was calm. Measured. His eyes, cold and steady.
In this moment, she wasn't towering over a weakling.
She was just… talking to someone who didn't fear her.
A pause.
Then, she exhaled, cool and slow, and turned toward the kitchen.
Fine.
He was just a boy. What could she do?
He wasn't worth the effort.
"I don't mind cooking for you. But I'm not your maid. I clean, I cook, I do laundry… that's fine. But from now on, if you see dust on the shelves or your hair clogging the bathroom drain, you deal with it."
She didn't answer right away. She sat down at the table.
Only after a long silence did she speak again.
"Fine."
Gu Xi blinked.
That easily?
"We'll split the chores. You cook, I clean. You take the weekdays, I'll take weekends."
"That's fair."
"Don't slack off."
"Don't shed so much hair."
Another pause. Then, unexpectedly—
A snort.
She didn't smile. But the corner of her mouth twitched. Just for a second.
That was all.
The peace treaty was signed.
No warm fuzzies. No magical sibling bond. Just a cold negotiation between two people stuck in the same space.
Still.
It was something.