Chapter 7

Pure paper currency held no meaning in this world dominated by the Weird. In the Weird World, what passed for money was better described as the most common Weird Items—ones imbued with power and the property of circulation.

Because they were tied to power, the wealth of this world proved exceptionally sturdy, serving as hard currency anywhere.

At the same time, with no threat of inflation, a full two hundred thousand was a heartbreaking expense, even for the Weird who lived in the Villa District on Wealth Avenue.

Yet the Weird under the eaves had to bow its head.

Having personally experienced how formidable this new neighbor was, the father of the little girl—who had just barely redonned his half-ruined Human Skin and struggled to his feet—chose to yield. “Alright, I’ll send the compensation over tomorrow.”

Su Xuanxiao nodded. “Take care. On your way out, invite the next parent in.”

The man, whose half-torn Human Skin had not fused well with his true body and thus caused him constant pain, could only hunch over as he left the study. At those words, he forced a smile at the corners of his mouth, endured the agony to straighten up, and stepped out of the study.

Outside the study, the gathered “people” wore varied expressions.

Perhaps they had once been vibrant beings, but the moment they shed their Human Skins, they also cast off certain restraints and shackles.

In the Weird World, it all boiled down to the powerful and the weak.

Weak Weird didn’t even deserve clear thoughts.

That was why some Weird still wandered those chaotic zones to this day. Did they truly like it there?

Children weren’t great at reading adults’ faces, after all. The chubby little boy in the living room tugged at his parents’ arms. “Mom, Dad, why aren’t you all doing to them what you did last time like—”

Before the chubby little boy finished, his father clamped a hand over his mouth.

The moment the screams emerged from the study, everyone present had sensed this new neighbor’s overwhelming power.

Like last time?

Last time…

Wealth Avenue’s prime location made every villa there highly sought after.

The reason this villa had changed hands so quietly was that its previous owner was no more.

In this long wait, the first one to enter finally emerged.

“What happened?” The chubby little boy’s father released his grip on his son’s mouth.

The first to speak was the first to go in.

“It’s your turn.” His tone carried undisguised schadenfreude, along with a vicious glee that said if he wasn’t having a good time, neither would they.

Weird were agglomerations of negative emotions, and in most cases, they didn’t hesitate to show it.

The chubby little boy’s father appeared, on the surface, as a rotund, amiable middle-aged man.

Named, he didn’t want to enter but didn’t dare leave.

In the end, he steeled himself, lifted his foot toward the study—and dragged his wife along with him.

“Ah!!”

“Ah!!!”

The familiar pair of screams followed a similar process. When the couple emerged, the looks they exchanged carried resentment.

Su Ximu had started at the front door but now stood at the foot of the stairs, watching the entire time as these neighbors entered looking pristine and exited in disarray.

He had learned his lesson and no longer judged “Big Brother’s” actions through the lens of his original world’s mindset.

Besides, aside from slightly disheveled expressions, these neighbors looked no worse off than Third Brother had at the time.

As for the screams, perhaps “Big Brother” was just the intimidating type when angry.

People in this world were simply more uninhibited in expressing emotions.

Su Ximu obediently waited his turn. He figured once these neighbors finished, it would be his.

Sure enough, as the last neighbor stumbled out of the study in a daze, he was ushered in like passing a baton.

The youth stood obediently in the center of the study, atop a brand-new carpet.

He promptly admitted his fault. “Big Brother, I was wrong.”

The man seated in the black executive chair across from him had put his Gold-Rimmed Glasses back on. He held a small stack of crisp white bill photocopies and seemed to be in a good mood. “Wrong about what?”

“I… I…”

He had admitted fault eagerly but hadn’t reflected deeply.

Su Xuanxiao finally shifted his gaze from the bills to spare a bit for the “little brother” standing in the corner.

The youth had a slender build, yet his face still carried a touch of baby fat.

His current obedient look—trying hard to think of his mistake but drawing a blank, utterly innocent—made one’s heart soften a little.

Su Xuanxiao didn’t soften, but with his good mood, he couldn’t be bothered to hassle a little thing he could kill with a flick of his wrist on any normal day.

“What’s in your pocket?”

The topic shifted so abruptly that Su Ximu almost didn’t catch up. Prompted, he remembered the fruit in his pocket. A light bulb went off in his head. He stepped forward two paces, turned sideways, and eagerly displayed his pocket to “Big Brother.” “Big Brother, I picked some fruit for you.”

They were all bright red, clearly very sweet-looking.

He hadn’t picked any that weren’t.

With that, he continued his compliance. “I’ll go wash these fruits and bring them right over to Big Brother.”

Seeing no objection from “Big Brother,” Su Ximu felt pardoned. He turned and hurried out.

Before leaving, he heard Big Brother instruct him to tell the neighbors outside to head home first. Su Ximu nodded at once to show he’d gotten the message.

Once out of the study, he relayed the message, went to the kitchen, washed the fruit—all with brisk efficiency, not daring to dawdle.

“Big Brother” hadn’t even scolded him, yet Su Ximu still felt pressured in his presence.

He subconsciously ignored the sixth sense that had blared warnings nonstop since he awoke in this world and began speculating wildly instead.

It was probably the original host’s instincts at work.

They said the eldest brother was like a father. “Big Brother” had brought his young brothers out to make a living early on and built up this family fortune, which showed just how capable he was.

A man like that naturally held those around him to high standards. He might dote on his youngest brother, but discipline was inevitable.

Just like when he first awoke and locked himself in the bathroom to sort things out—Third Brother had instantly pinned the blame on fear of Big Brother’s scolding, hence the hiding.

As Su Ximu arranged the washed fruit in a fruit bowl, his thoughts wandered. When he carried it back to the study, another stretch of tense silence hung in the air.

Su Ximu figured that, wearing the role of someone’s little brother now, he ought to take the initiative to say something.

He thought for a moment, eyed the fruit Big Brother had already eaten half of, and ventured, “Big Brother, some of the fruit in the orchard might ripen tomorrow. I’ll pick more for you then.”

A qualified capitalist never let any benefit slip by, no matter how small.

Those who couldn’t cherish a single dollar didn’t deserve to earn a billion.

The man glanced at Su Ximu, pulled out his wallet, and finally gave the child a token allowance. “Good work.”

Su Ximu took the hundred-dollar bill, left the study again, and felt his labor recognized.

One thing felt odd, though. Didn’t the book say “Su Ximu” had an Unlimited Black Card? Why was “Big Brother” giving him pocket money specially?

Right—where had the Black Card gone?

He asked about it that evening after dinner, once “Third Brother” had returned home. “Third Brother, have you seen my wallet?”

He worried the card really had been lost during the original host’s drunken night.

Su Jianglou paused in checking his phone, then replied naturally, “Nah, haven’t seen it. Probably lost it last night while drinking. No big deal—here, use one of mine for now.”

Su Ximu waved it off. “No need. Big Brother gave me pocket money.”

He just wanted to make sure they knew in case the card was truly gone and caused issues later.

Now that he’d told “Third Brother,” it was fine.

That morning, in chatting with Mr. Gardener, he’d learned the world’s specific prices.

In summary, the hundred from “Big Brother” went a long way.

“Big Brother gave you pocket money?” Su Jianglou perked up. “How much?”

The Unlimited Black Card—that was the fancy of the Weird who designed his Dungeons. He hadn’t gotten any such card from Big Brother.

At most, back when he first started his business, Big Brother had loaned him some low-interest startup funds.

As for Second Brother’s money, it used to be easy to borrow and no need to repay.

But ever since he’d said he wanted a “little brother,” he hadn’t seen a dime from Second Brother.

Su Ximu fished in his pocket and opened his palm to reveal a neatly folded bill.

Su Jianglou eyed the denomination, his expression complicated. Unable to bear it in the end, he pulled out his own wallet and added five hundred more.

“This is for picking fruit for Big Brother.” Su Ximu stared at the five new large bills that had suddenly appeared in his hand.

“Then pick some for me too. Aren’t you on summer break lately? Nothing to do at home—consider this pay from Big Brother and me for your work. Better than running around with those fair-weather friends.” Su Jianglou said it like it was real.

And Su Ximu actually bought it. He carefully folded the remaining five bills. For the first time since arriving in this world, a faint smile of genuine happiness curved his lips, revealing a tiny dimple that caught Su Jianglou’s eye.

“Smile again.”

The youth, mid-fold, looked puzzled.

Su Jianglou showed uncharacteristic urgency. He flipped open his wallet—empty of cash now.

So he reached into his jacket pocket, grabbed something, and placed it in Su Ximu’s still-open palm. “Smile again.”

Without waiting for a reaction, he shook his head, abruptly stood, and headed upstairs to his room.

He left Su Ximu alone in the living room, left hand full of bills, right hand holding an obviously expensive Gem Cufflink, staring in confusion.

At that moment, Butler Li—who always seemed to appear and vanish like a ghost in this house and whom Su Ximu had only seen for the first time at dinner—suddenly materialized behind him.

Butler Li cut a reliable, wise elderly figure. He chuckled and explained to the still-bewildered Little Young Master, “Third Young Master must have found painting inspiration when he saw Little Young Master smile.”

Only then did Su Ximu recall that, besides his Tourism Group work, “Third Brother” did have this artistic hobby of painting.

An artist’s inspiration was always so elusive and sudden.

No wonder he’d left in such a hurry—to capture it on canvas.

After that, Butler Li fell silent, smiling as he dutifully stayed by the Little Young Master’s side.

Until the Little Young Master yawned sleepily. Only then did he bow slightly to the Little Young Master and head upstairs to prepare hot bathwater.

When Su Ximu returned to his room to wash up and sleep, he found the bed thoughtfully made with the covers turned down at one corner, a Fairy Tale Candle scented with orange and bergamot lit by the bedside, and the bathtub already filled with bathwater.

Su Ximu: Hmm…

He tentatively called out in the bedroom, “Butler Li?”

“Uncle Butler?”

After a wait with no response, he finally relaxed.

So much had happened that day.

Even someone like him, who might not be used to such a soft bed, fell into a dreamless sleep amid the warm orange blossom and citrus aroma, exhaustion claiming him through the night.

The next day, with “Second Brother” still out working, the three brothers gathered at the breakfast table as usual.

Su Ximu took a bite of bread and sneakily glanced at “Third Brother” beside him. He vaguely felt “Third Brother” treated him a tad better than yesterday.

Yesterday, when “Third Brother” spoke to him, it always felt a bit joking.

Probably because he’d come home hungover—”Third Brother” might not say it, but he wasn’t thrilled deep down.

Today…

“Third Brother, did you finish your painting yesterday?”

After breakfast, Su Ximu asked curiously.

At that, Su Jianglou’s mood brightened even more. “Yeah, finished it.”

He placed a hand on Su Ximu’s shoulder. “It was all thanks to our Xiao Mu. Third Brother started painting this picture many years ago, but he’d never had any inspiration.”

With that, he glanced at the young man’s expression beside him. “You want to see it?”

“Come on, Third Brother will take you to have a look.”

Su Jianglou led Su Ximu all the way to a room at the end of the corridor on the third floor.

The light inside was somewhat dim, with only a small window letting in a bit of sunlight.

The room was filled with many easels, and the paintings on them were all covered with thick, dark red cloths. Only in the spot by that small window, where the sunlight fell, was there a painting uncovered.

The child in the painting had big, sparkling eyes. He held up a big pinwheel in his small hand, his brows and eyes curved in a smile that seemed directed at someone outside the painting frame.

A tender, chubby little face was adorned with a tiny dimple.

It was hard to imagine how Su Jianglou, with those arms that looked like they could strangle a leopard, managed to wield a fine brush to create such delicate strokes.

Perhaps because the light in the studio was so dim and gloomy, even Su Jianglou’s expression was far less sunny than before.

He took a few steps forward, a bit stingily letting Su Ximu take only one look before carefully covering the painting again. Then he hurried back, reached out to embrace Su Ximu, and said in a low voice, “Xibao, Brother has somewhat forgotten what you looked like as a child. What should I do?”

Second Brother was too greedy. Having his own memories wasn’t enough; he even wanted to steal his Third Brother’s and Big Brother’s. Fortunately, he and Big Brother had teamed up, so Second Brother hadn’t succeeded.

But why was he still gradually forgetting?

Was it because too much time had passed?

Hearing Third Brother’s tone, so heartbroken just because he couldn’t clearly remember what ‘Su Ximu’ had looked like as a child…

At that moment, Su Ximu truly understood just how much love the Su Ximu from the novel had received.

He opened his mouth to say something, but then remembered that he wasn’t actually the original host. In the end, he simply patted ‘Third Brother’s back in comfort.

He didn’t know why he’d come here, either.

But he promised that, if he could, he was willing to give all of this back to the ‘Su Ximu’ who belonged here.

Su Jianglou felt the comfort from Xiao Mu and closed his eyes without speaking.

The atmosphere between the brothers was somewhat warm and cozy until Su Jianglou spoke again, taking a sharp turn. “Xiao Mu, you’ve been so idle at home that you’re off picking fruit. How about Third Brother sends you to do some summer work to get some exercise? Anyway, before school starts, Big Brother definitely won’t let you go out playing with friends again.”

“Don’t worry, it’s at a traditional customs garden that has a partnership with Big Brother’s company. No one will bully you.”

Damn it. His spy placed with Second Brother had sent word that Second Brother had wrapped things up early over there and would be back in a couple of days.

Although it was only a day or so, he really couldn’t bear to let Xiao Mu get killed by Second Brother right now.

So, it was better to send Xiao Mu away first to lie low.

Su Ximu’s comforting hand paused. How had the topic suddenly jumped to summer jobs?

Seeing Xiao Mu’s movements halt, Su Jianglou thought he had some misgivings and said in a domineering tone, “Relax. If anyone out there dares to hit you, Third Brother will twist their head off.”

Hearing such a violent declaration, Su Ximu oddly felt a bit accustomed to it.

Violent was fine; after all, ‘Third Brother’ wasn’t really going to twist anyone’s head off.