Chapter 25: Men Are Never Truly Good

When Lu Fan opened his eyes, the sky had not yet fully brightened.

The wooden-framed glass window was left slightly ajar, a gap of about six inches wide, allowing him to feel the faint chill drifting in from outside. However, this thin coolness could not dispel the stuffiness of the room. The sweat from the previous night left his skin feeling sticky and uncomfortable. The room was constructed of red brick and cement, but the roof was made of corrugated iron, which baked in the sun during the day, turning the space into a sweltering oven. With only one window open on the southern wall, air circulation was impossible, and even after an entire night, the air remained heavy and stifling.

Lu Fan sat up on the bed and pushed the window open fully. He clearly remembered opening it before going to sleep, yet someone must have closed it later. He guessed it was Liu Yue’e; she likely did this often when her daughters, Bai Lu and Bai Shuang, used to sleep in this bed. She had never raised a son and did not understand the fiery constitution of an eighteen-year-old in the prime of his youth. Throughout his childhood and adolescence, he could never keep a blanket on while sleeping in winter; his mother, Xia Hongying, often joked that she had to tuck him in eight hundred times a night.

Lu Fan wanted to get dressed, but his clothes were still hanging on the clothesline in the courtyard. Since the mother and daughter were not yet awake, there was no one to bring them to him. He had no choice but to lift the bed curtain and step out, wearing nothing but his briefs, moving on tiptoe.

The bed where Liu Yue’e and Bai Lu slept was near the door. Lu Fan tried his best to keep his gaze averted, avoiding anything he shouldn't see to prevent any unwanted trouble. But he couldn't walk with his eyes closed, so he stole a brief, sweeping glance.

The two were sleeping back-to-back, their postures nearly identical, curled up like two kittens. They were wearing matching pale red undergarments—not the mass-produced kind found in stores, but likely handmade, cut from fabric and tailored to their figures. The shade of red was two tones lighter than pink. The material appeared to be pure cotton, soft, form-fitting, and gentle against the skin. The tops resembled sleeveless undershirts but were much shorter, likely hitting just at the waist when standing. Lying down, the fabric had bunched up slightly, revealing their midriffs. Facing him, Bai Lu’s delicate navel was visible, along with the two shallow dimples at the