TFRLTOP Chapter 107 Part 2

Rain fell steadily.

Ming Ming, feeling lazy, refused to go out, and Xiao Yunmu stayed home with her.

The villa had a private media room, but she found the chairs to be uncomfortable. She also liked falling asleep whenever she felt tired.

So Xiao Yunmu had installed a projector directly onto the wall across from her bed.

Rain pattered outside.
It was the perfect sleeping soundtrack, but it was still too early to sleep.

So Ming Ming dragged Xiao Yunmu onto the bed to watch a movie.

“Come on, come on, don’t be shy. I don’t mind you getting on my bed,” she said, patting the space beside her and making room.

Xiao Yunmu looked at her, his expression unreadable.

That night… resurfaced in his mind.

Is she hinting at something?

Is she deliberately reminding me of what happened back then?

What is she trying to do?

He sat upright beside Ming Ming, posture perfectly proper, leaving an obvious gap between them on the wide bed.

Ming Ming, however, had never been good at sitting still.

She shifted positions every few minutes. Little by little, she scooted closer until their shoulders brushed. By the end, she’d leaned her head against his shoulder, watching the movie at an angle.

“Sit properly,” he said.

“Mm-hmm,” she replied obediently — and didn’t move at all.

When the first movie ended, she announced she wanted warm milk. He told her to pick the next film and went downstairs to heat it.

“Don’t forget the sugar!” she called after him.

“I won’t.”

When he returned, the opening credits were already rolling.

He’d poured the milk into an insulated cup so she wouldn’t burn her hands.

“Careful. It’s hot.”

“Mhm.”

“What are we watching?”

She said the title in English.

“What’s it about?”

“About a pair of fake siblings who end up in love,” she replied, completely innocent.

He paused for a fraction of a second, then asked casually,
“…Is it a tragedy?”

“Of course not.” She blinked at him. “Why would I watch something depressing on purpose?”

He went quiet.

Ming Ming, on the other hand, was deeply invested in the plot. She’d always had a strange fondness for taboo-style dramas.

She didn’t just watch — she narrated.

Sip of milk, commentary.
Another sip, more commentary.

She didn’t even notice the faint milk foam on her lips, absently licking it away and continuing her analysis.

“…Ugh, that guy is trash. The female lead should’ve gone with the younger one instead!”

That was when he reached over, took the cup from her hands, set it on the nightstand…
and leaned in.

The kiss was brief. Soft. Almost like a thought that slipped free.

When he pulled back, the white foam from her lips was gone.

Ming Ming went completely still.

“…Bro? What was that?”

He didn’t answer. He leaned in again.

She raised a hand and stopped him.

They were close enough that she could feel his breath.

“You said you wanted closeness,” he said quietly. “So why are you avoiding me?”

She blinked, confused, and reached up to press her palm to his forehead.

“You don’t have a fever.”

He looked at her like someone who had fallen into deep water and forgotten how to breathe.

Before she could say anything else, he leaned in again — this time too close, too real.

And then she pushed him away.

Standing her ground, she wiped her mouth and said, half-panicked:

“Are you out of your mind? You’re my brother!”

His voice was low and steady.
“I was never your brother.”

Her hands started to shake.

“This isn’t right. We can’t. We grew up together.”

He met her eyes and said calmly:

“There is no blood relation.”

Her brain short-circuited.

“You… you don’t understand! Biology is complicated! If two people grow up together, drink the same water, breathe the same air… it changes things!”

He stared at her.

She lifted her chin, suddenly very serious:

“From an evolutionary biology perspective… we’re basically closer than blood now!”

Silence.

He narrowed his eyes slowly.

“…Is this really what you learned in biology class?”

She froze.

That tone — that dangerous calm — meant one thing.

He wasn’t a confused man anymore.
He was a disappointed guardian.

In the next moment, he was out of bed, holding her unfinished practice workbook.

Before she could escape, he pressed her into a chair at the desk.

“Come on,” he said. “Let me see if you really don’t understand, or if you’re just pretending.”

Ming Ming stared at the questions on the page like they were written in a foreign language.

After a long, silent battle with the textbook, she looked up at him with watery eyes.

“…Let’s just go back to watching movies.”

He didn’t respond.

She slowly scooted closer to him, sighing like someone walking toward execution.

“If I were still in high school, I’d understand all of this.”

She pointed weakly at the book.

“But I’m in college now.”

She looked up with tragic sincerity.

“I really don’t know any of this anymore.”