[The Theater — 8:20 PM]
The memory surfaced without warning.
Child bride.
Lin Feng's lips curved slightly in the darkness. So that's what she was. That's what she'd always been.
Ten thousand chapters of that garbage novel, and not a single line mentioned about this. The Beauty Records had never bothered to explain why Lin Weiwei loved the original so obsessively—she was just "the devoted stepsister," just some character in Long Tian's conquest story.
After all, backstories only appeared when the author needed an emotional hook, or to drive a point.
And her suicide had shown how Lin Feng was a pathetic villain. He couldn't even take care of the people who cared about him.
But now he was living it, and the missing pieces kept surfacing on their own, albeit foggy at best.
He glanced at her, and the flickering preview light caught her profile—pajamas, rabbit slippers, flour still smudged on her cheek. She'd spent 800,000 yuan tonight and couldn't be bothered to wipe her face.
She was gripping the armrest like it owed her money, her knuckles white and her eyes fixed on the screen. She refused to look at him.
The previews ended. The screen went black for a moment before erupting with ominous music as the main feature began.
Lin Weiwei shifted in her seat, but she still wouldn't look at him.
Lin Feng settled back into the plush leather, relaxed and patient.
Alright, little wife. Make your move.
------------------------------
The theater was dark and vast around them, the massive screen casting shifting shadows across empty rows of seats. The surround sound hummed through the floor, deep bass notes vibrating in his chest.
Twenty minutes passed.
Lin Feng watched the film without really seeing it. His attention kept drifting to his peripheral vision, where Lin Weiwei sat rigid in her seat. She was gripping her armrest with one hand, the other clutching the hem of her oversized sweater. Every time the music swelled ominously, her shoulders tensed.
She still hadn't made her move.
Patience.
Then the first jump scare hit.
A shadow moved on screen, sudden and sharp.
"Ah!"
She screamed and grabbed his arm, her fingers digging into his bicep through the expensive fabric of his dress shirt. Her grip was tight enough to leave marks.
"Scared already?" He couldn't keep the amusement out of his voice.
"I told you! Horror movies are scarier now!"
"You weren't scared when you were eight."
"I was young and stupid!" She still hadn't let go. "I didn't know what fear was!"
"And now you do?"
"Yes! Very much! It's so terrifying Big Brother!"
The scene passed. The tension on screen dissolved into quiet dialogue between the lead characters.
Yet Lin Weiwei didn't let go.
Her grip loosened, but her hand remained as warm pressure through the fabric. Her breathing was slightly too fast, her heart pounding hard enough that he could feel it through her fingernails.
Not from the movie.
Lin Feng didn't pull away or comment. He just let her hold on.
She's nervous.
Her warmth seeped through his sleeve, and he caught the faint scent of vanilla and butter still clinging to her hair from hours in the kitchen.
...This is fine.
Lin Weiwei's fingers pressed slightly firmer against his arm, testing his reaction.
He still didn't move.
Her shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly, and the corner of her lips curved up in the darkness where he couldn't see. Her thumb traced a slow, deliberate circle against his bicep before settling into place.
------------------------------
Minutes passed. The film droned on with creaking doors and shadowy hallways, but Lin Feng found his attention split between the screen and the warmth pressed against his arm.
Then another jump scare hit, bigger this time.
The ghost's face filled the screen with a shriek of violins, and her hand slid down his arm until it found his hand. Her fingers intertwined with his completely.
She gripped tight—really tight.
"Sorry!" Her voice came out breathless. "I'm just—it's really scary!"
"It's the same movie we saw before."
"But still Big Brother, that was ten years ago!"
"The ghost didn't get scarier in ten years."
"Shut up and let me hold your hand!"
The words hung in the air between them. Her eyes went wide the moment they left her mouth, and her free hand flew up to cover her lips.
Silence stretched between them.
Then he chuckled, a deep and quiet sound in his chest.
He didn't pull away.
Did I just say that out loud?
Lin Weiwei's face burned. Her palm was slightly sweaty against his, but her fingers only tightened their grip.
Every few minutes, she squeezed harder whenever the music swelled ominously. The timing matched the scares on screen perfectly—too perfectly.
Neither said anything.
Lin Feng watched her from the corner of his eye. She wasn't even looking at the screen anymore—her gaze kept darting to their intertwined hands, then to his face, then away again.
She's working up to something.
Lin Feng's thumb moved slightly against her hand, tracing a small arc across her knuckles.
He didn't notice.
Her breath caught. Her fingers stilled against his palm, and she bit her lower lip to keep the smile from spreading across her face.
------------------------------
The tension on screen built steadily, strings rising in pitch as the camera crept down a darkened hallway. Lin Feng felt Lin Weiwei's grip tighten on his hand, her body coiling like a spring beside him.
Then the major jump scare hit like a bomb, sudden and violent and perfectly timed for maximum impact.
She screamed and jerked sideways, "falling" directly into his lap.
Her face buried into his chest as her arms wrapped around him, her entire body pressing against his.
"I can't look!" Her voice came out muffled against his shirt. "It's too scary!"
Lin Feng looked at Lin Weiwei. The timing had been too perfect, the angle too precise—she'd landed exactly where she wanted to be.
Accident?
They both knew the answer.
He played along anyway.
His arms came up and wrapped around her, one hand settling on her back while the other began stroking her hair.
"Shh." His voice came out gentle and comforting. "I've got you."
She trembled against him, though whether from the movie or something else entirely was impossible to tell.
"You're safe."
I'm in his lap. I'm actually in his lap.
Lin Weiwei's heart slammed against her ribs so hard she was sure he could feel it.
His heartbeat thudded under her ear, steady and calm and controlled. His arms around her were strong and warm and protective.
This is what I wanted. This is exactly what I wanted.
She buried herself deeper and inhaled. He smelled like sandalwood and something uniquely him—something she'd been breathing in for five years and still couldn't get enough of.
More. I want more.
Lin Feng's hand continued its slow path through her hair. She was warm and soft against him, and she smelled like vanilla and butter from hours of cooking.
She's my stepsister.
The thought surfaced automatically.
This is fine. I'm just comforting her. Completely innocent.
Her body was very warm against him.
...This is fine.
"Don't let me watch the scary parts," she mumbled against his chest.
"I won't."
"Comfort your little sister, Big Brother."
She felt his chest tense slightly beneath her cheek, his fingers pausing for just a heartbeat in her hair before resuming their gentle strokes.
"Of course, little sister."
He emphasized the words slightly, knowingly, and she pressed her smile into the fabric of his shirt where he couldn't see it.
------------------------------
Minutes slipped by in comfortable silence.
Lin Weiwei stayed where she was, nestled against his chest with no intention of moving. The movie played on, cycling through scenes of suspense and brief respite, but she barely registered any of it.
She was too focused on the warmth surrounding her, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way his hand continued its gentle path through her hair like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Then the horror movie shifted gears.
On screen, the lead couple fell in love between terrifying moments—intimate conversations and meaningful glances, tension building with every scene. The theater's speakers wrapped around them with soft piano and murmured confessions, the screen casting warm golden light across the empty seats.
Lin Weiwei couldn't see any of it. Her face was still buried in his chest.
But she could hear everything.
Every tender word, every romantic confession, every emotional beat. Her cheeks warmed against his shirt as the female lead whispered something about being afraid to lose the person she loved.
Did you hear that, Big Brother? That's what I want to say to you.
She held her breath, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
For a moment, she waited and listened, hoping that somehow, impossibly, he'd understood what she couldn't say out loud.
His hand never stopped moving through her hair.
That was it. Just the same slow, soothing strokes. The same steady heartbeat beneath her ear. The same calm breathing that hadn't changed once since she'd fallen into his lap.
He hadn't heard anything at all.
Of course he didn't. He can't read minds, you idiot.
But her chest still ached a little.
She pressed her face harder into his shirt, hiding whatever expression had crept onto her face.
"Is it still scary?" Lin Feng's voice rumbled through his chest, vibrating against her cheek.
"...Very scary."
"But Weiwei… I haven't seen you flinch in ten minutes."
"I'm flinching on the inside."
"Mm."
"Don't 'mm' me."
"Mm."
Lin Weiwei pinched Lin Feng's side, digging her fingers into the muscle above his hip.
Yet Lin Feng didn't even twitch.
But she'd felt it—the slight hitch in his breathing a moment ago, the way his fingers had paused for just a fraction of a second before resuming their steady rhythm. And when she'd shifted against him earlier, his jaw had tightened almost imperceptibly against the top of her head.
Hmmm… You're not as calm as you pretend, Big Brother.
His hand kept stroking her hair, slower now and more deliberate. His fingers lingered at the nape of her neck, warm against her skin, before trailing back up—and there it was again, that tiny hesitation before he pulled away.
Come on now Lin Feng… Touch me…
You want to touch me more, right? I know you do…
The screen flickered with warm amber light as the romantic subplot swelled, filling the empty theater with soft piano and murmured confessions. She could hear the female lead's voice trembling with emotion, the bass notes humming through the plush seats beneath them.
Her lips curved against his chest where he couldn't see.
Fine. Let me help you then…
------------------------------
The romantic subplot escalated.
First came the kissing scene, then the passionate scene ignited on the enormous screen—tasteful but unmistakable. The music swelled with heat, filling the dark theater with breathless gasps and the rustle of silk against skin.
Lin Weiwei 'tensed up' completely in his arms, and every muscle went rigid.
She turned her face toward him suddenly, like it was the most terrifying jumpscare in the entire movie.
"Big Brother... Tell me... Is it over?"
"Not yet." He couldn't quite suppress his amusement.
"Tell me when it's over!"
"Weiwei. You can watch. You're eighteen."
"NO!" The word came out muffled against his chest. "I'm not eighteen—I'm my Big Brother's cute little stepsister."
She burrowed deeper with her hands over her ears, making sure to emphasize 'stepsister'.
Lin Feng's eyes narrowed slightly.
Wait.
She'd chosen this movie specifically. She'd remembered it from childhood and remembered this scene.
She knew this was coming.
His lips twitched in the darkness.
Here it comes.
Lin Weiwei's heart pounded so hard she was sure he could feel it hammering against his chest.
The scene. MY scene.
She'd planned this for weeks and picked this movie for a reason.
Now. Move now.
------------------------------
Lin Weiwei shifted in Lin Feng's lap, just slightly, adjusting her position.
"Sorry, Big Brother. I'm just trying to get comfortable."
The words were innocent enough, but the movement wasn't. She pressed more firmly against him, her body settling against his chest and thighs in a way that had nothing to do with getting comfortable.
Lin Feng's jaw tightened. His fingers stilled in her hair, hovering at the nape of her neck for just a moment before resuming their slow rhythm.
Don't do anything stupid, Lin Feng.
He inhaled slowly, trying to steady himself. But she smelled like vanilla and butter, and her warmth had seeped through his shirt until he couldn't tell where his body heat ended and hers began.
She's his stepsister.
No. Not 'his.'
My stepsister.
The correction felt weaker this time—less convincing with her weight settling deeper into his lap.
She's just getting comfortable. That's all.
This is fine.
Lin Weiwei felt him tense beneath her, felt the way his thigh muscles tightened under her weight and the slight catch in his breathing.
Good.
Feel me more, Big Brother.
------------------------------
Her breathing changed, faster now and deliberate.
Warm breath ghosted against his neck through the thin fabric of his shirt, each exhale a reminder of how close she was. He could feel the wetness of her breath and the heat of it, just millimeters from his skin.
On screen, the romantic scene continued—the male lead murmuring something about "no longer being able to hold back."
Great. Very helpful. Thank you, movie.
Then her hands "accidentally" slipped from covering her ears.
One landed on his chest and gripped his shirt while the other found his arm and held tight.
"The sound! It's so loud, Big Brother!"
Her head pressed flat against his heartbeat, her palm right over it and feeling every beat.
She shifted again, more pronounced this time.
"Sorry! My leg fell asleep!"
Lin Weiwei's body weight redistributed completely, her soft curves pressing against him everywhere.
The female lead on screen gasped breathlessly, and the soundtrack swelled with strings and piano, dripping with passion.
I hate this movie. I hate this movie so much.
Lin Feng's heart hammered against her palm, and she could definitely feel it.
Slow down. Control the response.
His heart didn't listen.
She's just shifting. Natural movement. Her breath is just—she's scared. That's why she's breathing fast.
This is fine.
This is—
Her chest pressed against his stomach through her thin pajama shirt.
—this is fine.
Who am I kidding? This is not fine. This is the opposite of fine!
Weiwei is definitely attacking me right now!
Meanwhile, Lin Weiwei pressed her palm firmer against his chest, and a slow smile spread across her face where he couldn't see it.
His heartbeat was faster. Much faster than before.
Finally.
Race for me, Big Brother.
------------------------------
She turned her face slightly.
One ear remained pressed against his chest, listening to that racing heart and cataloguing every beat as if she was some cardiologist. But now she looked up at him, her gaze burning with something that had nothing to do with fear.
Lin Weiwei's fingers curled into his shirt, gripping the fabric.
On the other end, Lin Feng wasn't looking. He'd been trying not to look this entire time, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen like his life depended on it.
"I'm so embarrassed, Big Brother." Her voice came out small and fragile. "Don't look at me like this."
Then Lin Feng looked at her.
Her face was flushed pink in the dim light, her lips slightly parted, her body warm and soft in his lap. The sounds from the screen filled the empty theater around them—breathless whispers and swelling strings.
"It's almost over, right?" Each word vibrated against his chest. "Please tell me it's almost over."
Her body trembled slightly against him, and whether it was real or performance, it was impossible to tell.
Every excuse he'd made tonight lined up in his head.
She's my stepsister.
The thought felt weak.
Do this properly.
Weaker.
She deserves better than this.
Barely a whisper now.
I'm not Long Tian.
Desperate.
His hand in her hair had stopped moving.
Lin Weiwei felt the stillness and her pulse spiked.
That's it Big Brother.
Resistance is futile.
Let your Weiwei take good care of you.
For the rest of your life.
------------------------------
She noticed his hand had stopped. She always noticed.
Slowly, she lifted her face from his chest.
Those eyes were enormous, glistening with unshed tears of "embarrassment." Her lips were slightly parted, her face flushed pink, her hair mussed from his fingers running through it.
Innocent vulnerability wrapped in devastating beauty.
"Big Brother..." Her voice came out small and fragile. "Thank you for protecting me."
She said protecting while she destroyed his restraint.
Lin Feng looked down at her.
He couldn't stop himself.
For three seconds, they stayed like that—her looking up, him looking down, the provocative music from the speakers filling the empty theater around them. Her body was soft and warm in his lap, and her breath ghosted against his chin.
Everything about the moment screamed for him to close the distance, to abandon restraint, to give her what she was asking for without asking.
Not here.
Not like this.
She deserves—
I should—
We can't—
None of the excuses finished forming.
His hand moved from her hair.
She held her breath.
It traveled down.
Her eyes widened slightly.
It paused.
And landed on her shoulder—gentle, but not brotherly. Not anymore.
"You're safe, Weiwei." His voice came out rough and cracked. "I'll always protect you."
Lin Weiwei's heart nearly burst out of her chest.
His voice cracked. His hand is trembling.
And his heartbeat—
It was racing beneath her palm, absolutely racing, like a thousand horses galloping across the northern grasslands.
------------------------------
The scene on the screen ended, and the music shifted back to its more ominous theme.
Lin Weiwei slowly lowered her face back to his chest, away from his eyes.
A small smile curved her lips, hidden against his shirt.
His hand had remained on her shoulder—not where she wanted. Lin Feng's discipline had held.
Yet his hand had trembled. His heart was still racing under her ear, and she could hear every frantic beat.
You're one tough cookie, Big Brother… I didn't expect that you could withstand me like that…
But still…
This is a partial victory for me.
Your heart told me everything, Lin Feng. Hehe!
And next time—
Next time, it won't just be my shoulder.
Yes… That's it…
But still…
Lin Feng has already done more with me now compared to that stalker bitch!
Very well, Lin Feng. I'll just stay here silently then…
Meanwhile, Lin Feng stared at the screen without seeing it.
He'd held the line. Barely.
The original Lin Feng was an idiot.
If that bootlicker had been here instead, he would've probably rejected this move by Lin Weiwei and told her how disgusting she was for being an incestuous step-sibling—even if they weren't even blood related.
But the original wasn't here. The transmigrator Lin Feng was.
And that was exactly the problem.
She thinks she's seducing her Big Brother. The one she grew up with. The one she fell in love with.
But…
She doesn't know he's gone.
She doesn't know I'm someone else wearing his face.
His hand was still on her shoulder, appropriate and safe. But his heart wouldn't slow down, and she could definitely hear it.
But…
What if I give in? Would it even be fair to her?
She deserves the real thing. Not a counterfeit.
She knows.
She knows I almost—
He didn't finish the thought.
------------------------------
The rest of the movie passed in a blur.
Lin Feng forced himself to watch the screen, to focus on anything other than the warmth in his lap and the questions he couldn't answer. Lin Weiwei seemed content to simply exist against his chest, her breathing slow and even, her fingers loosely gripping his shirt.
Neither of them spoke.
The film wound down. The horror couple survived, defeated the ghost, and got their happy ending together.
Lin Feng watched the final scene with mild disappointment.
That's it?
The "terrifying" ghost had been defeated by the power of love and a conveniently placed Buddhist shrine. The jump scares were predictable, the plot was paper-thin, and the romantic subplot had all the subtlety of a sledgehammer.
This is considered a horror classic in this world?
He thought about the horror films from Earth. Japanese horror like Ringu and Ju-On, with their slow-building dread and imagery that crawled under your skin and stayed there. Thai horror like Shutter and Coming Soon, which understood that the scariest things were the ones you almost didn't see. American horror like Hereditary and The Conjuring, with their relentless tension and moments that made entire theater audiences forget how to breathe.
This... this was none of that.
To call this film "horror" was like calling Ghostbusters a horror movie. Sure, there were ghosts. Sure, people screamed occasionally. But scary? Not even close.
Is the rest of this world's entertainment like this? Or did Weiwei just pick a bad movie?
He made a mental note to investigate later.
Still, Lin Weiwei had chosen this movie for a reason, and it clearly wasn't for the cinematography or the horror.
After her last offensive had ended, she'd simply... settled.
No more shifting, no more "accidents," no more deliberate provocations. She'd curled up against his chest like a satisfied cat, her breathing slow and even, her fingers loosely gripping his shirt. Content to just exist in his warmth.
It was almost more dangerous than her attacks.
At least when she was scheming, I knew what to defend against.
This quiet intimacy? This comfortable silence?
This is the real trap.
The credits rolled as slow music played, and the lights remained dim.
"The movie's over," Lin Feng said quietly.
"...I know."
Neither of them moved.
"Weiwei."
"Mm."
"We should go."
"Mm."
"That means you need to get up."
"...Mm."
She didn't move.
The silence stretched. The credits continued rolling, names neither of them saw.
Finally, slowly, reluctantly, she sat up.
Still in his lap. But facing him now.
Their faces were close. Very close.
Direct eye contact. Unavoidable.
Her breath caught.
His expression was unreadable, but his pulse wasn't. She could see it jumping in his neck.
The moment stretched between them—
Then she quickly buried herself back into his chest.
"Five more minutes."
"The movie's over."
"I don't care."
The credits ended. The screen went dark.
The lights stayed dim.
She wouldn't move.
Lin Feng understood perfectly. She'd prepared this space. Cameras probably off. Staff paid and gone. Security outside. Privacy absolute.
She was giving him the opening.
He could take her right here.
She wanted him to.
Not here.
Not like this.
The excuses felt hollow even to him now.
But he held onto them anyway.
Home. Get her home first.
Then... then we'll see.
------------------------------
[10:00 PM]
"Weiwei. We need to go."
"Mm." She still didn't move.
"I mean it."
"My legs are asleep." The lie was so obvious it was almost offensive.
"All of them?"
"All seven of them."
"You have seven legs?"
"The movie gave me extra legs. All asleep."
Lin Feng sighed.
Fine.
He moved suddenly.
Lin Weiwei's breath caught.
This is it. He's finally going to—
His hands gripped her waist, and her mind short-circuited.
What is Big Brother going to do?
Push me down onto the seats? Pin me against the armrest? Carry me to the back row where it's darker and—
Oh god, what if he—
Right here? In the theater? With the staff outside?
But I told them not to come in no matter what. And the cameras are off. And the security knows not to interfere. So if he wanted to, he could—
He could—
Hehehe…
But then…
Lin Feng simply stood up.
With her still in his arms.
...Huh?
She gasped, and her arms immediately wrapped around his neck for stability.
"Big Brother—!"
Wait. Wait wait wait.
He's... just lifting me?
That's it?
THAT'S IT?
And Lin Feng wasn't even struggling. He'd risen from the seat in one smooth motion, her entire body weight barely registering on his face. Like she weighed nothing. Like carrying her was the most natural thing in the world.
Since when was Lin Feng this strong?
The original memories told her he'd never exercised a day in his life. Rich young master. Pampered since birth. Couldn't even do ten push-ups without whining about his delicate hands.
So why did his arms feel like iron bands around her?
"You didn't want to move." He adjusted his grip, one arm behind her back and the other under her knees. "So I'm moving you."
That's not—I wasn't—I was waiting for you to—
Her face went red. From embarrassment this time. Her imagination had just gone to some very inappropriate places, and he was just... carrying her. Like a gentleman.
Lin Feng, you absolute—
"I can walk!"
"Your seven legs are asleep."
"I—that's—put me down!"
"How about… no?"
"But I'm heavy! You might snap your back!"
"Heavy?" He glanced down at her with genuine amusement. "Weiwei… you call yourself heavy? With this body of yours?" He scoffed. "You're not heavy at all. If anything, it's the opposite."
Her face burned even hotter.
Did he just—
Did he just comment on my body?
"Shut up, Big Brother…"
She buried her face deeper into his neck, her arms and legs wrapping around him until she resembled nothing so much as an oversized koala.
Lin Feng adjusted his grip.
He then carried her down the aisle and through the empty theater, his footsteps echoing off the walls before being swallowed by the vastness of the space.
This man... this man is completely impossible!
I gave you every opening! Every excuse! I practically gift-wrapped myself for you!
And you're just going to carry me out like some kind of... of... gentleman?!
Very well… If that's the case… then… don't mind me if I do this…
Lin Weiwei buried her face in his neck, hiding her burning cheeks. But she didn't stop there. Her lips brushed against his skin, feather-light, and her warm breath ghosted across his throat with every exhale.
Lin Feng's jaw tightened.
Don't react. Don't—
Her nose nuzzled into the curve where his neck met his shoulder, and she inhaled slowly, deliberately.
She's smelling me. She's definitely smelling me right now.
His grip on her tightened involuntarily.
You little—
Lin Feng's mind was in an uproar as they passed the staff member at the entrance, the one who'd checked their tickets earlier. He glanced up, saw them, and looked immediately back down at his paperwork. Professional and silent.
Security personnel in dark suits stood near the exits—Lin family guards, watching and protecting.
They're all seeing me like this...
Everyone is seeing the Second Young Master carry me out like a—
Like a bride.
Lin Weiwei's heart stuttered.
This... this wasn't the plan.
But...
This is actually better.
Meanwhile, Lin Feng's mind catalogued the details as he walked—the NDAs, the security, the disabled cameras, the private theater.
This level of operational planning was worthy of a military campaign.
She prepared for everything. For me to—
He didn't finish the thought.
Good thing I didn't fall for it.
The glass doors opened, and the cool night air hit them.
She shivered slightly against him and pressed closer.
"Cold?"
"Mm."
He held her tighter.
The valet saw them and started to rush forward, but Lin Feng shook his head slightly. The valet stopped.
He carried her himself, all the way across the parking lot, all the way to the passenger side.
Only then did he set her down carefully into the seat.
She finally released his neck, slowly and reluctantly, like letting go of something precious.
Their faces were close for a moment, eye contact direct and unavoidable.
Something unspoken passed between them.
Then he pulled back, closed her door, and walked around to the driver's side.
I didn't completely win tonight.
Lin Weiwei touched her neck where his hands had been.
None of my plans worked.
But this...
Being carried in his arms like I belonged there.
She smiled softly in the darkness of the car.
This is even better.
The engine started, and the car pulled away from the cinema.
Somewhere during the drive, her hand found his on the gear shift.
He didn't pull away.
Neither of them spoke.
They didn't need to.
------------------------------
[End of Chapter 18]