"That is absolutely out of the question," Du Zi Yuan erupted, slamming her palms against the table and springing to her feet, her face pale with the terror of the consequences. She knew all too well that school was an environment beyond her total control, and the thought of us spending our days in close proximity, potentially sparking a genuine, uncontrollable affection, sent a jolt of panic through her that she couldn't mask.
"And why, pray tell, is it impossible?" Du Nan retorted, his voice unwavering as he pointed out that Baobao was, after all, a student, and that her moving to Jiangcheng shouldn't come at the cost of her education.
The sisters were silenced by the cold logic, their expressions sour and their bodies rigid with unwilling submission, knowing that while they were prepared to be unreasonable, there was a boundary of public decency they couldn't cross.
"Then I'll be troubling Brother Ji for his guidance in school," Baobao chirped, flashing me a smile so sweet and filled with unadulterated adoration that I felt my resolve beginning to fray.
Over in the corner, Zi Teng sat in a festering pool of resentment, wondering if he had suddenly become invisible to the entire table. He considered the situation and realized that if Baobao's feelings for me were still superficial, he might be able to poison the well, turning her against me with a few well-placed whispered lies.
He decided to strike immediately, letting out a sudden, sharp yelp of pain that caused everyone to jump, and he clutched his knee with a theatrical, trembling intensity that looked like a scene from a poorly acted play.
"Little Teng, are you all right?" one of the sisters asked, leaning in with genuine concern, though I could see Du Lala rolling her eyes, fully aware that this was nothing more than a pathetic grab for attention by a glorified clown.
My mother leaned in, her voice thick with worry as she asked if it was the old injury acting up again, and while my father glanced over with a critical eye, he remained pointedly silent.
"I'm fine, just a little pain. It's not Brother Ji's fault," Zi Teng whimpered, a transparent attempt at martyrdom that caused the entire room to fall into an awkward, freezing silence, even making my father's brow furrow in genuine annoyance.
The implication was clear. His mother had asked about a physical wound, and he had dragged my name through the mud for no reason other than to play the victim, proving once again that my brother lacked the basic social intelligence to read the room.
Baobao finally shifted her gaze toward him, her eyes skimming over his features with a clinical, icy disdain. He was ugly, his voice was grating, and he possessed the physical presence of a weakling. He didn't compare to a single hair on my head. To her, he was repulsive.
But in Zi Teng's delusion, those few fleeting glances meant something entirely different. He convinced himself that she was looking at him because she was already losing interest in me, and he interpreted her gaze as a sign of budding attraction.
If a woman likes you, just be direct about it, he thought, his confidence inflating as he decided to pour gasoline on the fire, blurting out that although Brother Ji had a history of stealing things and breaking vases, he was sure that he, the real gentleman, would treat Miss Fang with much more care.
The moment those words of blatant, malicious slander left his lips, the expressions of my sisters curdled into pure, suffocating darkness, and even the usually cool-headed and composed Fang Baobao's eyes narrowed into slits, a chilling realization dawning on her that this boy was intentionally targeting her beloved Brother Ji.
"Since he wants to bully my Brother Ji, I suppose I have no choice but to teach him a lesson," she whispered, her voice laced with a lethal, crystalline intent as she glared at Zi Teng. "Then I will simply dedicate myself to protecting Brother Ji, and it truly doesn't matter what anyone says. For even if my Brother Ji were the most wicked, unforgivable villain in existence, I would still adore him unconditionally."
Fang Baobao's words landed like a crushing hammer against the fragile ego of Du Zi Teng, leaving him visibly shattered, his face draining of color as he reeled from the absolute finality of her rejection. Every attempt he had made to poison my reputation was rendered utterly hollow, and watching him struggle for air as his fabrications crumbled was, I admit, a sight of profound satisfaction.
But my fourth sister, Du Zi Yuan, was far from finished with him. She rose from her chair, her eyes blazing with a righteous, icy fury, and aimed a shaking finger directly at the man who had plagued our lives with his deceit.
"Du Zi Teng, we have endured your poisonous presence for far too long," she shouted, her voice echoing through the vast dining hall. "And as the protective sister of my dear brother, I intend to expose you for the hollow, hypocritical coward that you are today."
The air in the room grew heavy and stagnant, the silence so profound that I could hear my own heart hammering against my ribs, and as every pair of eyes in the villa turned toward Zi Yuan, I felt a tremor of anticipation for what she was about to unveil.
Zi Teng, meanwhile, began to vibrate with a mounting, uncontrollable dread, his survival instincts screaming that he was standing on the edge of an abyss. But Zi Yuan ignored his frantic gasps, producing a sleek, silver USB drive from her pocket and inserting it into the large, wall-mounted display, which immediately flickered to life with an ominous, waiting play button.
With a final, triumphant glance in my direction that held a hint of playful mischief, she looked back at the screen and then at me, her confidence infectious, while Baobao, seemingly oblivious to the gravity of the looming confrontation, tugged lightly at the sleeve of my jacket and whispered that it was time to enjoy the show.
Zi Teng tried to scramble for a shred of defense, stammering that he was the victim and that the sisters were simply blinded by their inexplicable obsession with me, but Zi Yuan allowed him no quarter, clicking the play button before he could weave another lie.
The footage that followed was a master class in ruin. High-definition security recordings captured every clandestine act of sabotage he had ever committed, each clip playing out like a confession of his moral bankruptcy, while the expressions of our parents darkened into masks of profound, growing horror.
"No. This is a lie, a fabrication. The camera system was broken that day. This must be edited," Zi Teng shrieked, his voice cracking with the desperation of a cornered animal.
But Zi Yuan merely offered a cold, mirthless smile, informing him that this was no amateur edit, but the work of our finest technical team, who had spent the entire night restoring the corrupted files, and that she had enough evidence to keep the screen full for days.