Elder Shen’s words made the entire floor go silent for three seconds.
Shen Zhizhao glanced down at the leather jacket he was wearing, tugged at the collar, and spoke with rare innocence: “This is yours?”
Shen Wenta stood downstairs, gun in hand, his younger sister tucked behind him, three brothers in front of him.
He felt he had never been so helpless in his life—nor so brave.
Of course, if he had to compare, the helplessness still outweighed the courage.
Reinforcements finally arrived.
The moment Old Master Shen stepped through the door, Shen Wenta breathed a sigh of relief.
From his knowledge of his grandfather, the old man was strict, but he handled chaos with efficiency and authority—one word from him could do the work of ten from them.
But Grandpa’s first reaction was to demand why Shen Zhizhao had stolen his clothes.
Shen Wenta’s expression cracked too. He lowered the gun slightly. “Grandpa? That’s your jacket?”
“Ahem…” Old Master Shen’s cold demeanor split open with a hairline crack. He turned his head, his gaze drifting to a painting on the wall. “From my youth. Reckless years.”
He had a whole room full of leather and fur coats, all too flashy now. He hadn’t touched them in years.
Shen Zhizhao found the scene somewhat amusing.
He realized that ever since he’d been stuck with this bunch of siblings, the sheer absurdity of events had been growing exponentially.
It completely overturned his previous understanding of family life as plain and ordinary.
In his mind, family was supposed to be quiet—everyone running on their own track.
Reality, however, was Shen Ruxu striking a pose on the second-floor railing in a dress, while Shen Xun stood expressionless in a corner like a cross-dressing lead actor who had stumbled into the wrong movie set.
Shen Wenta was aiming his gun, shielding Shen Yi, while Shen Yi herself poked half her head out from behind him.
…So dramatic.
“Grandpa, Xiao Yi picked the jacket for me,” Shen Zhizhao confessed honestly, adding, “She said this one suits me best.”
Old Master Shen’s gaze shifted, landing on Shen Yi, who had half her face visible from behind Shen Wenta.
Shen Yi poked her head out, grinning ear to ear.
Her curly hair was a mess from all the shoving, sticking up wildly and making her round little face look even rounder:
“Grandpa, do you want to join us too? I’ve got a pink one—”
Shen Wenta whirled around and clamped his hand over her mouth.
“You’ve got a what?” Old Master Shen squinted, eyeing his grandchildren. “Shen Yi?”
“Nothing. She’s not thinking straight today. Grandpa, let me handle her education,” Shen Wenta said nervously, dragging Shen Yi back and stuffing her further behind him.
Shen Yi wriggled free from his grip, a smile still on her lips. “Why are you so scared of Grandpa? Don’t be afraid—I’ll protect you.”
Shen Wenta looked down at her, using his slender fingertip to push her forehead, nudging her back: “Just stop talking.”
Shen Yi immediately jabbed him back, much harder, nearly knocking him off balance: “I will talk, I will talk, I will talk!”
“…”
Old Master Shen took a deep breath.
In his youth, he hadn’t had the best temper. As he aged, having seen so much of the world, he had slowly cultivated a philosophy of “neither joy nor sorrow” to maintain his health.
He thought he had become steady enough to handle anything with calm.
But today, these kids were clearly testing the limits of his cultivation.
“Shen Xun, Shen Ruxu, Shen Zhizhao,” he called out one by one, brooking no argument, “go change your clothes. Shen Wenta, put the gun away.”
He paused, his gaze finally landing on Shen Yi’s face, and pivoted to a devastating question:
“And, Shen Yi. Have you finished your homework?”
Shen Yi: “???”
Why did it have to be her turn and the topic was homework?
She stared at him in disbelief.
Old Master Shen’s expression was icily indifferent.
“Have you finished it?” he asked again.
Shen Yi replied with full justification: “No, I haven’t. Since I—”
She never did homework.
The whole family knew it. Wen Ya had tried every method.
Reward systems, punishment systems, supervised study sessions.
All of them had ended in failure.
Shen Sixing had been optimistic, saying: “Anyway, she’s so dumb, she’ll only need to kill, kill, kill for a living in the future. She won’t need to rely on this.”
He got hit with a throw pillow by Wen Ya three times after that.
Shen Xun suddenly spoke up: “I did it for her.”
Old Master Shen shifted his gaze to him, speaking slowly: “You did it for her? Can you take the exam for her too?”
“Of course not,” Shen Yi lowered her head. “I came in eighth on the exam. Mom was very angry.”
She felt that everyone in her family—except her dad, that lazy fish—
was either angry or on the verge of being angry every single day.
Why were they all so irritable?
Grandpa let out a meaningful sigh at her ranking.
“Eighth place? And you still don’t do homework? You’re the worst child I’ve ever seen in this family.”
And by far.
Shen Yi’s eyes darted around. She walked up to Grandpa, her curls hanging at her shoulders, and stared straight at him.
Elder Shen looked at her with an air of calm authority. "What? You're not convinced?"
Shen Yi's head suddenly dropped, thudding heavily against his chest.
The force was strong, her round head like a lead ball, leaving Elder Shen momentarily silent.
Because of the impact, he stepped back twice to steady himself, then gazed solemnly at the chestnut-colored head buried against him.
Shen Yi's curls were flattened, the ends sticking out at the edges.
"Forget it."
He raised his hand, his large palm pressing firmly down on the top of her head, flattening the messy mop a bit more. He said coolly:
"I can't be bothered to lecture you."
His tone remained stern, but his hand lingered on her hair without moving away.
Shen Yi immediately knew her cute act had worked.
The girl secretly raised her hand behind her back, forming a victory sign for Shen Wenta to see.
Shen Wenta froze for a moment, then couldn't help but smile.
Old Master Shen thus let Shen Yi off lightly.
He turned his attention back to the two grandsons dressed in women's clothing.
"Shen Ruxu, Shen Xun, who's going to tell me—why are you two suddenly dressed like this?"
Shen Ruxu leaned against the railing upstairs, making one last desperate attempt to stall. "Grandpa, we're bonding."
"Bonding by wearing such distinctive skirts?" Old Master Shen revealed a sly smile. "Or is Shen Zhizhao secretly wearing my clothes at home?"
Faced with Grandpa's double blow, Shen Ruxu kept his smile. "How could that count as stealing, Grandpa?"
"We're just borrowing them."
"For family, the word 'steal' is too cold."
"Besides, I've noticed that you were a bit flashy when you were younger."
Old Master Shen's composed expression cracked slightly, and he shot back darkly, "I was flashy?"
Shen Xun felt his second brother's description wasn't accurate, so he said flatly, "More precisely—very tacky."
"... " Shen Ruxu's smile faltered for a second, and he quickly covered the mouth of the guy who could drag down global human emotional intelligence. "Shut up, Xiao Xun."
Old Master Shen, insulted as 'tacky,' twitched at the temple.
He surveyed the roomful of children, guns, dresses, and leather jackets.
The whole scene looked like a surrealist painting.
Chaotic and infuriating.
"Go change your clothes."
"Then we'll sit down and talk."
At his words, everyone scattered like startled birds, dashing back to their rooms to change.
Shen Yi was the slowest, and Elder Shen called after her, "Run faster," before she sped up and clattered up the stairs.
Her curls bounced with each step.
Quite adorable.
