Before the words had even finished leaving her lips, the long-haired femme fatale’s face flushed a deep red.
She covered her face with both hands, lowered her head, and turned to run: “Sorry, sorry, you mistook me for someone else—I also mistook you for someone else.”
With that, she strode off on those long legs wrapped in fishnet stockings, quickly running away.
But the tipsy man—no, Ji Haotong—wouldn’t let her get her way. His long, powerful arm reached out and grabbed the femme fatale’s fair wrist, forcibly pulling her back.
Her black hair hung straight down on either side of her shoulders.
Her fair, delicate oval face was tinged with bashful red.
Around her swan-like neck was a crisp-sounding silver bell, and that face—ninety-nine percent identical to the one in his memory.
Fully certain of who was before him, Ji Haotong’s eyes widened, his mouth gaped, but he couldn’t make a sound, his face filled with disbelief.
And Ji Yuennian seemed to notice the shock in his gaze.
She instinctively bowed her head, trying to let her loose hair hide her face, but that seductive outfit was even more eye-catching under the dim lights.
“Bro… I…” Ji Yuennian stammered, her voice barely louder than a mosquito. Her hands anxiously twisted at the hem of her skirt, her gaze darting everywhere, never daring to meet Ji Haotong’s eyes.
“You…” Ji Haotong frowned tightly, his throat bobbing as he tried to speak, but he was silent for a while. At last, he let go of Ji Yuennian’s fair wrist and pointed to a bar on his left.
*****
Meanwhile, in another corner of the city, in a pitch-black bedroom where the property management was still rushing to repair the electric box outside, Jiang Chi put his handiwork skills to use.
Disassembling, reassembling, and connecting several power banks, he managed to put together a simple power box.
He hooked up a signal booster, then connected the transmission screen for a pinhole camera.
The screen flickered with static for a while, then soon stabilized.
Just ten minutes earlier, he’d still been remotely guiding Ji Yuennian when, all of a sudden, there was a loud bang—the power box downstairs had exploded.
Later, Chen Mengrou, who’d gone out to investigate, said it seemed someone in the neighborhood was mining cryptocurrency, causing the electric box to overload.
Now, waiting for the signal to stabilize, Jiang Chi rebooted the screen connected to **. The surroundings seemed to change to a completely different environment—bustling and noisy, filled with voices and the clinking of glasses.
Suddenly, a familiar face zoomed into view, and he couldn’t help but exclaim aloud.
“Haotong-ge?”
*****
At this moment, inside a bar.
Under the dim lighting, figures swayed. The rhythm of the music pounded like a heartbeat, bombarding everyone’s ears. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol and tobacco, creating an indulgent and hazy atmosphere.
Ji Haotong and Ji Yuennian sat side by side at the counter.
“One Tequila Sunrise.”
“One Old Fashioned Godfather.”
“Hey, hey, hey, what’s a kid like you doing ordering alcohol?” Ji Haotong interrupted the bartender who was about to start, pointing at the elegant, long-legged femme fatale sitting next to him.
“Get my little brother an ice cream sundae.”
“I’m an adult,” Ji Yuennian muttered, protesting her displeasure, but Ji Haotong ignored her and instead continued to the bartender, whose expression had grown even stranger: “Three parts ice.”
Very soon, the tequila and ice cream sundae were served. Ji Yuennian picked up the spoon and started eating.
The snowy white whipped cream and sweet fruit sauce blended in her mouth, leaving a faintly sweet fragrance.
She nibbled at the spoon, her long hair loosely draped over her waist, her lips slightly upturned, and the corner of her mouth stained with a bit of white—making her look utterly enticing.
Ji Haotong’s gaze unconsciously fell on her face, his eyelid twitching slightly.
Was this really his own little brother, that fearless troublemaker?
He never would have thought that, while trying to dodge Mengmengtu and sneak out for a drink, he’d run into such a… massive shock!
He recalled back in junior high, one hand gripping a steel pipe, the other clenched in a fist, taking on five delinquents by himself and sending an entire gang to the hospital. He’d even had to go to the police station to bail him out.
But now… his gaze drifted down, sweeping over the white, swan-like neck adorned with a silver bell, then over the shyly heaving chest, past the short-sleeved, split short skirt with faint, dark water stains, and down to those long, fishnet-stockinged legs rubbing anxiously against each other.
“Bro… can you not look at me like that?” A timid feminine voice sounded, laced with embarrassment and unease.
Ji Haotong withdrew his gaze, picked up the tequila, and took a sip, looking calm as a mountain, but inwardly cursing nonstop. He pretended to be composed, his tone flat: “Let’s hear it.”
“I… have a problem.”
After saying it, Ji Yuennian felt as if her cheeks were burning, her head bowed, hands wringing together.
“What?” Ji Haotong looked utterly confused. A problem? What problem? Could his little brother have discovered the family’s genetic illness?
“It’s just…” The long-haired femme fatale was burning with shame. She glanced at Ji Haotong and found him still looking clueless, making her feel both bashful and annoyed.
She was embarrassed that her brother wouldn’t let it go, even when she’d dropped so many hints—what else would link an “illness” to crossdressing except a fetish for women’s clothes?
She was annoyed at how he just didn’t get it. If it were Jiang Chi, he’d have understood the moment she started speaking—he was practically the worm in her belly.
She nearly wanted to bury her face in the sundae in front of her. Gritting her teeth, she finally gathered her courage and said, “It’s… crossdressing fetish.”
After saying that, Ji Yuennian wished she could find a hole to crawl into, her face so red it was practically dripping blood.
This hobby she’d hidden for so many years was now laid bare before her family—and worse, she’d exposed herself. It was simply social suicide.
“Crossdressing fetish?” Ji Haotong stared blankly for a long while, then finally reacted, “Little brother… you mean, you have a crossdressing fetish?”
“Isn’t it obvious with the way I look right now?” The femme fatale gave Ji Haotong a little kick under the bar with her high heels, her delicate face blushing, her voice meek.
Ji Haotong stayed silent for a long time, then took another sip of tequila. The slight bitterness stung his taste buds before he finally spoke.
“How long?”
“Since junior high.”
“That early?”
“Actually… it started a little in elementary school,” Ji Yuennian shyly turned her face away. “Since I was little, I’ve always been curious about women’s clothes. In seventh grade, I had a little more allowance, so I bought an outfit and tried it on. After that, I just fell in love with crossdressing and couldn’t stop.”
As if afraid that Ji Haotong would misunderstand, Ji Yuennian hurriedly added: “But Bro, I’m still a manly man, don’t worry. My orientation is totally, totally straight.”
Manly man?
Ji Haotong’s gaze drifted over his little brother’s chest, where two round bulges strained against the fabric. He couldn’t help but twitch. Ji Yuennian, noticing his gaze, thumped her chest with a pink fist and explained.
“These are realistic breast pads—eleven thousand for a pair, top-of-the-line. They look and feel just like the real thing.”
“And those legs…” Ji Haotong pointed, expression odd, at his little brother’s alluring black fishnet-stockinged legs—not only were they hairless, but their shape was graceful and slender, even prettier than a model’s!
“For crossdressing, I gave up my leg hair.” Ji Yuennian replied without blushing or skipping a beat.
“As for the leg shape, maybe I was just born with the divine crossdressing body.”
“Hahaha, Bro, you’re not suspecting I’m actually a girl, are you? A few months ago, you even scrubbed my back, remember?”
“I know you’re a brocon, but no matter how pretty I am in women’s clothes, I could never really become your little sister.”