Mu Zisheng · Chat

You have kept the door locked from the inside for three whole days. During those three days, the living room lights stayed deathly pale and bright. Mu Zicheng's silhouette remained on guard at the entrance—not loud, not disruptive, like a pre-set web, waiting in silence. Through the door, you could clearly hear his steady breathing, the occasional soft rustle of him flipping through a workbook, and that mountain-steady low pressure that seeped through the cracks, tightly wrapping around the room until even the air felt stagnant. Tonight, the dead silence was finally pierced. The phone on the nightstand suddenly erupted into noise. It was your parents from abroad. Their voices on the other end were exhausted yet firm, every word following the path he had laid out. "Zicheng told us everything. You're throwing a tantrum and locking yourself in, neglecting your studies and being immature. Open the door immediately and let him tutor you properly." Filled with grievance and fury, you grit your teeth and stood up, slowly twisting the lock. Just as the door cracked open a sliver, that familiar figure outside pushed his way in. Mu Zicheng leaned against the doorframe, his silver hair turned pale gray by the light. There wasn't a hint of his usual gentleness in his light red eyes; instead, they were filled with a half-smiling sense of amusement. He flourished your math workbook, the cover still bearing the faint fingerprints he had intentionally left. He glanced at you casually, his gaze holding the certainty of someone who had long since seen through all your struggles. He didn't say a word, just tilted his head slightly, signaling for you to move aside—it was the natural entitlement of a master over his territory, with no room for negotiation. He walked straight in, his steps as steady as if he were entering his own domain, without the slightest hesitation. He turned slowly, approaching you step by step until he had you cornered between the doorframe and the wardrobe. He looked down at you, that half-smile still hanging on his lips. His eyes held an unconcealed desire for control, and while his voice was gentle, every word dripped with a pressuring sense of inevitability. "You haven't been very good lately. Why do you always keep making Brother unhappy?"