My sister, whom I raised, has turned evil after faking her death for three years.

The area downstairs in Anhe Residential Complex was unusually lively today.

Several elderly men and women sat on small stools by the flower bed, holding enamel teacups in their hands and plastic bags of sunflower seeds at their feet. Their setup was even more complete than that of watching a play at a temple fair.

The leader, Grandpa Zhang, was the director of the neighborhood committee before he retired. He was the most well-informed. It is said that he would be stationed here every morning without fail, and he remembered exactly what time the young man would arrive, what flowers he would bring, and what he would say.

"Is this the third time today?" Grandma Wang asked, munching on sunflower seeds and gesturing towards the entrance of the building.

"The fourth time!" Grandpa Zhang corrected, holding up four fingers, his tone as certain as if he had firsthand information. "The first time he wore a blue suit, the second time it was gray, and the third time he started wearing black. Look at him today, dressed like he's going to a funeral."

Aunt Li squinted and looked him over for a while, then commented objectively, "The young man is really handsome. His build and his features are somewhat similar to Xiao Zhao, the guy who used to chase after me when I was young."

"Didn't your little Zhao run off with the village beauty next door?" Grandma Wang mercilessly exposed his secret.

"That's because I didn't like him!" Aunt Li said without changing her expression. "Besides, if this young man were in our time, he could just stand at the village entrance and every girl would be fighting over him. Why would he need to stand here downstairs like a telephone pole?"

Grandpa Zhang picked up his enamel mug, took a sip of tea, and put on an air of knowing what he was doing: "You guys are out of touch. This young man looks like he's going to do great things. He's thick-skinned. These days, thick-skinned people don't suffer losses. When I was pursuing my wife, I waited outside her textile factory for several days in a row. In the end, she couldn't stand the embarrassment anymore, so she agreed."

"Come on, your sister-in-law only took you in because she was afraid you'd freeze to death at the factory gate." Aunt Li rolled her eyes. "But this young man is really persistent. This is the fourth time already. I wonder if he'll succeed today."

All eyes turned to the tall figure at the entrance of the building.

Cheng Xiaoyu stood there with one hand in his pocket and a bouquet of red roses in the other. His dark suit was neatly tailored, and his shirt collar was crisp and wrinkle-free.

Three years have passed, and he is no longer the chubby little boy he once was. He is nearly 1.9 meters tall with broad shoulders and long legs, a well-defined jawline, high brow bones, and bright, roguish eyes. He is a sight to behold.

"Xiaomei! Come down and see me!" Cheng Xiaoyu shouted upstairs, his voice booming. "I know you're home! I saw your curtains move!"

The curtains upstairs remained motionless, but the window of the next unit was suddenly flung open, and an elderly woman with gray hair poked her head out: "Young man, you've been calling for almost half an hour. Can't you let my grandson take a nap?"

"Excuse me, Grandma Wang! Please close the window first, I'll keep my voice down!" Cheng Xiaoyu clasped his hands in a fist salute towards the upstairs window, then turned back and continued shouting towards Xiaomei's window, "Xiaomei! I'm not the kind of person who gives up easily! Look, it's been four days already, and I've been here on time every day, more punctual than clocking in for work! If you don't come downstairs soon, I'll..."

"So what?" Grandpa Zhang asked with interest.

"I'll wait here until dark!" Cheng Xiaoyu puffed out his chest, his tone as impassioned as if he were going into battle. "I, Cheng Xiaoyu, keep my word! Back when I was pursuing my ex-girlfriend, I waited outside her apartment building for three nights in a row, and she was so moved she almost called the police!"

The onlookers let out a good-natured chuckle.

Cheng Xiaoyu clearly enjoyed the attention. He put one hand in his pocket, turned slightly to the side, and aimed his most photogenic 45-degree angle at the window upstairs. Then he slowly pulled his hand out of his pocket and elegantly adjusted his cuffs. He had practiced this move repeatedly in front of the mirror last night, and every angle had been precisely calculated.

"Xiao Mei," his voice suddenly dropped half a tone, and he spoke slowly in a deliberately practiced deep tone, "You know, from the first moment I saw you, I felt that you were different from other girls. You are not as superficial as them. You never give me a second glance just because I am handsome. Of course, that is also what I admire most about you."

Grandma Wang couldn't stand it anymore and threw the sunflower seed shells on the ground: "Young man, is that praising someone else or praising yourself?"

"That's called a genuine expression of emotion!" Cheng Xiaoyu replied without turning his head, then magically pulled a bright red rose from his trouser pocket, clasped it in front of his chest, struck a tender pose, and looked up at the window. "They say every encounter is a reunion after a long separation. Xiaomei, I don't ask for a passionate love, I just ask that you give me a chance to be your personal deliveryman. Rain or shine, whatever you want to eat, I'll..."

Before he could finish speaking, the window on the second floor was suddenly pushed open.

Cheng Xiaoyu's eyes lit up, and he was as energetic as if he had been injected with chicken blood. Just as he was about to raise the newly taken-out rose above his head, a bucket of cold water fell from the sky and precisely poured over his head.

Water droplets dripped down his hair, eyebrows, and chin, causing the carefully selected bouquet of red roses to droop, with a few leaves clinging pitifully to the stems.

Cheng Xiaoyu was soaked to the bone, his black suit darkening even more from the water. He paused for a moment, then slowly raised his right hand with a motion as fast as a slow-motion scene in an idol drama, inserted his fingers into his wet hair, and pushed it back sharply.

Water droplets traced an arc in the air and scattered on the ground behind him, revealing his features, which appeared even more striking after being wet. His eyes held a deep affection that seemed to say, "This watering was well done; it made me even more aware of my love for you."

The elderly people watching gasped in surprise, and Grandma Wang even forgot to crack the sunflower seeds in her hand.

"It's alright," Cheng Xiaoyu said with a confident and charming smile, his voice deep and strong, "This basin of water taught me a lesson... love is never smooth sailing, Xiaomei. I won't give up because of this little setback, because my feelings for you are just like this basin of water..."

He stretched out his hand, fingers spread across his chest, ready to utter the classic closing line he'd practiced in front of the mirror no less than twenty times last night: "Crystal clear, unforgiving..."

A sharp "snap!" rang in his ears, interrupting the final chapter of his long-awaited confession.

The slap was powerful and precise, landing squarely on his left cheek. The force was so great that he spun around like a top twice before collapsing headfirst onto the edge of the flowerbed. The rose, which hadn't yet been raised above his head, traced a poignant parabola in the air before landing on him.

The scene was very quiet for a moment.

Grandpa Zhang's enamel mug hovered in mid-air, Grandma Wang's melon seeds spilled all over the floor from between her fingers, and Grandma Li's "ouch" sound was stuck in her throat, unable to be uttered.

All eyes were focused on the figure that had appeared behind Cheng Xiaoyu at some unknown time.

She was a young girl who looked delicate and frail, wearing a cream-colored knit sweater and jeans, with her long hair loosely tied in a ponytail. Standing there, she looked both obedient and soft.

But this same person just slapped a tall man who was over 1.8 meters tall, sending him spinning 720 degrees.

"Miss Su, she..." The driver next to Sun Yaqin was about to speak when Sun Yaqin glared at him and stopped him.

Sun Yaqin stood on the outer edge of the crowd, arms crossed, her eyes shining with an almost fanatical excitement. She had originally wanted to do it herself, but at this moment she felt that watching Xiaoqing carry out the execution from this perspective was a million times more satisfying than doing it herself.

Cheng Xiaoyu lay on the edge of the flower bed, his face still burning with pain, but confusion surged up even before the pain.

He thought he had just heard someone say, "Stop making a fool of yourself here"... The voice wasn't loud, and it carried a hint of deliberately suppressed anger, but the tone and the slightly rising intonation at the end made his heart skip a beat.

It's not Xiaomei... that's not Xiaomei's voice.

He slowly got up, supported himself on the ground, turned around, and saw clearly the person standing in front of him... Then he froze on the spot as if struck by lightning.

Those eyes, that slightly furrowed brow, that impatient yet somewhat speechless look in her eyes.

"So similar...so similar..." Cheng Xiaoyu murmured, his voice so soft it was as if he were afraid of startling something.

He subconsciously raised his hand to straighten his tie, but only when his fingers touched the soaked collar of his suit did he remember his disheveled state.

But it's okay... He quickly combed his water-damaged hair back, took a deep breath to adjust his expression, and put on that confident and charming smile again.

He picked up the fallen rose from the ground, wiped it on his sleeve, and then handed it to Su Qing with an elegant gesture.

"Miss, that slap just now reminded me... perhaps the person I've been waiting for here has never been anyone else, but rather fate that brought you to me. Would you be interested in having dinner with me? I know a particularly good French restaurant nearby..."

Before she could finish speaking, Su Qing raised her hand expressionlessly and delivered another crisp, loud slap.

Cheng Xiaoyu's face was slapped to one side, the rose in his hand spun in the air and fell to the ground, and the onlookers let out a unified gasp.

Cheng Xiaoyu slowly turned his head, and the roguish smile on his face finally faded a bit.

He looked at Su Qing's face, at her slightly furrowed brows and her cool eyes, and countless images flashed through his mind: the figure who beat all the thugs to a pulp in the old street, the profile of her teaching him how to make egg tarts while wearing an apron in the dessert shop, and the voice that smiled at him in the sunlight and said, "Xiao Yu did a good job today."

He stopped smiling, straightened up, and spoke in a completely different, serious and solemn tone: "Miss, you look very much like one of my older sisters. Out of this memory, I have tolerated your previous offense... but that doesn't mean you can continue to hit me."

Upon hearing this, Su Qing showed no further expression; she simply raised her hand and slapped him across the left cheek again.

"Snapped!"

The elderly onlookers all let out a unified "Ouch!" from their throats. Grandpa Zhang almost dropped his enamel mug, and Grandma Li scattered the sunflower seeds all over the ground.

"Are you coming or not?" Su Qing looked at him, her tone indifferent.

Cheng Xiaoyu covered his face and looked at her in disbelief, his lips moving several times.

He wanted to say something harsh, to project the unassailable aura he exuded when handling official business, but looking at the face in front of him, at those eyes he would never forget, he found that the harsh words he had prepared were stuck in his throat.

Then another slap.

Even Cheng Xiaoyu, with his good temper, finally lost his patience. He abruptly raised his hand and, just as it was about to fall again, precisely grabbed her wrist: "You..."

"Snapped!"

Before he could finish speaking, Su Qing slapped him again with her other hand without hesitation. This slap was even stronger than the previous ones, and Cheng Xiaoyu staggered two steps to the side, crashing into the cement edge of the flower bed.

He felt his face was swollen beyond recognition, his head was buzzing, and the figures of the elderly men and women in front of him became blurry and swaying.

He fell to the ground, lying on his back, gazing at the gray sky above.

How could this be... Who is this girl... She knows me... She dared to hit me like this... She has the same face as Sister Su... My mother sent her here... His plan is not yet complete... He finally managed to find her address, finally managed to convince her that he was a harmless suitor, and finally managed to have this identity that allows him to appear in front of her often.

If I fall here, all the groundwork I've laid will have been for nothing.

He can't just collapse like this...

He wants...

Stand up!

He gritted his teeth, pressed his numb hand against the edge of the flower bed, and braced himself against the ground, slowly lifting himself up.

His knees were shaking and his arms were trembling, but he still managed to stand up.

He straightened his back, his whole being like a flagpole swaying precariously in the wind but refusing to fall even in death.

The elderly people watching held their breath.

They watched as this young man, soaked to the bone, covered in dust, and with a face swollen beyond recognition, stood before them again with an almost tragic stubbornness. His silhouette stretched long in the afternoon sunlight, like a slow-motion scene of a movie protagonist getting up after being knocked down.

Grandma Wang forgot to crack the melon seeds in her hand, and Grandpa Zhang's hand holding the enamel mug trembled slightly.

Then, less than half a second after the figure's toes had steadied themselves, a slender white hand swung from the side again, and "slap!" The final slap landed precisely on his cheek.

Cheng Xiaoyu, like a toppled tower of building blocks, slowly and irreversibly fell to the side under everyone's gaze, crashing to the ground with a thud, his eyes closing.

This time he couldn't get up again.

It's not that I don't want to, it's that I'm dizzy.

The elderly people watching looked at each other, then unanimously took a half step back, making way for a wide passage.

Su Qing bent down, grabbed one of his trouser legs, and dragged him toward the roadside like a bag of flour.

The system promptly reported in her mind: [Cheng Xiaoyu's vital signs are normal. He has soft tissue contusions on his face, several areas of redness and swelling. The cause of unconsciousness is temporary loss of consciousness due to multiple external impacts within a short period of time. He is not seriously injured.]

Sun Yaqin stood on the outer edge of the crowd, watching Su Qing drag her unconscious son away into the distance, and slowly gave a thumbs up.