In the exquisitely decorated living room, lights blazed brightly. Yang Haoran hung his head low, his hands fidgeting nervously with the hem of his shirt. Standing before him was a stunning beauty with a frosty expression and a voluptuous figure, her refined features resembling a fairy who had stepped out of a painting.
On the living room sofa sat a sweet and youthful girl alongside a scholarly-looking middle-aged man.
The three of them fixed their gazes on the boy, the atmosphere heavy like a courtroom where a criminal awaited judgment.
“Have you come up with an excuse yet?”
Liu Ruoxi’s sparkling autumn eyes, shimmering like clear pools, fixed on her anxious son. Her tone was faint and even, like the surface of a still pond, giving no hint of her emotions.
Yet Yang Haoran knew full well that his mother was angry.
“Mother, listen to the way you’re talking—this little one wouldn’t dare hide anything from you!” Dropping all pretense, Yang Haoran reverted to his cheeky nature, gesturing animatedly as he spoke. “School let out early this afternoon, and this little one just wanted to hurry home to keep Mother company. But who could’ve guessed that Wei Ming from class—that shameless creep—would drag me to the internet cafe to play some games? I couldn’t shake him off, so I had no choice but to tag along for a few rounds.”
“That wasn’t what I wanted at all, Mother. You have to see the truth here!” Yang Haoran gazed at his mother with a pitiful, aggrieved look.
Anyone ignorant of the real story might have bought his sincere, heartfelt performance and thought he’d suffered an undeserved misfortune.
Liu Ruoxi gave a faint “Mm,” her face impassive as she watched her son’s act.
Yang Haoran grew anxious. Why didn’t she believe him? He’d already “confessed” to going to the internet cafe for games—that was honest enough. He’d even braced himself for a good thrashing with the chicken feather duster, after which the matter would be done and over with.
But judging by his mother’s demeanor, she clearly wasn’t buying it. Could he really tell her the truth?
That he hadn’t come home because he’d gone to take his trainee slave’s virginity? He’d have to be insane.
“Then tell me why you didn’t pick up when Mom called. What’s your excuse for that?” Liu Ruoxi stared coldly at her son, seeing right through his stream of lies.
She wasn’t upset that he’d come home late—he was old enough to fend for himself. What angered her was that he’d ignored her calls, leaving her to worry endlessly and fear the worst.
“Heh heh… well…” Yang Haoran scratched his head awkwardly. “I had my phone on silent.”
“Hand it over.” Liu Ruoxi extended her fair, jade-like hand.
Yang Haoran reluctantly pulled his phone from his pocket and passed it to his mother.
Oh no!
The moment he handed it over, Yang Haoran suddenly remembered: his phone was loaded with indecent photos from today, plus the provocative pictures Aunt Shen had sent him. If his mother saw them, it would be the end of the world—a lavish funeral at best.
He watched her tensely, his hands trembling slightly. He was terrified; the consequences if she spotted those images didn’t bear imagining.
Liu Ruoxi scrolled through her son’s phone, disabled the silent mode, and handed it back with a warning. “No more silent mode from now on. When Mom calls, you pick up—no matter what you’re doing.”
“What about during class?” Yang Haoran asked cheekily, relieved that she’d missed the damning evidence.
Liu Ruoxi’s brows shot up, her voice turning icy. “You pick up then, too.”
“Got it, got it.” Yang Haoran nodded vigorously, bowing and scraping in agreement. Of course, he knew this wasn’t his mother being overbearing; she would never call him during class hours anyway.
Yang Wenfu, watching from the side, felt a pang of helplessness. His son was far too mischievous—nothing like him at all.
“Yaoyao, go bring out the food from the kitchen,” Liu Ruoxi instructed Yang Mengyao.
Relieved to see that their mother wasn’t going to beat their brother, Yang Mengyao hurried off to the kitchen.
A portion of the meal had been kept warm in the insulated box, saved specifically for their brother’s return. Yang Mengyao knew better than anyone that their mother cared for him more deeply than she let on.
She felt no jealousy—quite the opposite. She was happy, because her brother mattered more to her than she did to herself.
“You’re really not going to beat me?” Yang Haoran asked cautiously, sensing from his mother’s attitude that she might let him off the hook. He could scarcely believe it.
“Are you itching for it?” Liu Ruoxi’s cold eyes shot him a withering glare.
Convinced now that she truly intended to spare him, Yang Haoran didn’t dare push his luck any further. He had no idea why he’d dodged the chicken feather duster beating this time, but wasn’t that a good thing? No point dwelling on it.
Once Yaoyao brought out the food, Yang Haoran dug in with gusto. His stomach had long since flattened from hunger, and he ate like a man possessed, wolfing it down.
“Slow down, Brother. I’ll get you some water,” Yang Mengyao said, her heart aching at the sight of him shoveling food into his mouth.
Parched at just that moment, Yang Haoran gratefully accepted the glass Yaoyao brought and drained it in one long gulp.
……
After dinner, Yang Haoran took a shower and instantly felt refreshed.
Lying on his bed, he sorted through his thoughts.
Though Wan Nu and Yaoyao were classmates, they weren’t close. Yaoyao was quiet by nature, while Wan Nu came across as aloof in class. It would be up to him to play matchmaker and bring them together.
In the future, the two of them would become like sisters—close confidantes who could serve him side by side.
Yaoyao obeyed him willingly enough, but she lacked proper training and didn’t yet grasp the rules. Wan Nu would have to take her under her wing and teach her the ropes.
Deep down, Yang Haoran knew what he truly craved: women kneeling submissively at his feet. Any disobedient slave—even his own sister Yaoyao—would feel the sting of the SM whip if necessary, until she learned her place.
He needed to plant the seed of absolute submission in all his women. Otherwise, they might grow spoiled and turn the harem into a battlefield of petty squabbles, which would give him nothing but headaches.
Things with Aunt Shen were progressing smoothly, but securing evidence to hold over her would require some scheming. He had a few ideas and would plot it out properly later.
As for his mother… Yang Haoran felt a headache coming on. He had no clue where to begin.
Her temperament was cool and distant, and her maternal authority loomed large. Unless she took the initiative, he was utterly powerless—far too passive.
Sighing at the thought, Yang Haoran reflected that conquering his mother would be harder than ascending to the heavens.
Her beauty was unparalleled in the mortal world. If he could subdue her and slowly mold her to his will, his life would hold no regrets.
But that was just a fantasy. In the short term, it was impossible—unless he resorted to underhanded tactics, which would never earn her true submission.
With no clear path forward, it was pointless to dwell on it. Yang Haoran stepped out of his room and headed down the hallway to Yaoyao’s door. He needed to give his sister some instructions first.
His footsteps echoed softly along the tiled floor of the corridor. Reaching her door, he knocked.
