Damian was already awake when the morning light peeked through the gaps in the master bedroom curtains.
His biological clock, developed on the warship, was earlier than the chickens on White Wax Island. He would open his eyes before dawn and take about ten seconds to fully switch from sleep to wakefulness. This was a habit he had cultivated over many years of naval service.
Then he felt Gwen's even breathing beside him.
He was still lying on his side, his right arm pinned under Gwen's body, and his arm was already numb.
He didn't pull his hand away. Gwen back to him, her blond hair spread out on the pillow, shimmering in varying shades of light in the morning glow.
The blanket only covered her waist, and the outline of her shoulder blades was faintly visible under the thin cotton nightgown, rising and falling slightly with each breath.
The waistline tapers from below the ribs to the hip bones, outlining a smooth arc at the edge of the blanket, like the most beautiful ripple splashed by the prow of White Wax Wood cutting through the waves.
Her legs were curled up, her calves sticking out from under the blanket, her ankles slender, her skin glowing a warm white in the morning light.
Damian couldn't help but stare for a while longer before turning his gaze away from her legs, his Adam's apple bobbing.
Then he very gently pulled his arm out, threw back the covers, got out of bed, and walked barefoot onto the wooden floor to the door of the walk-in closet.
He raised his hand to push the door open when Gwen's lazy, husky voice came from behind him.
Where are you going?
Damian turned around, Gwen rolled over, propping herself up with one hand. The thin strap of her nightgown slipped off her left shoulder and hung in the crook of her arm.
The blanket was piled around her waist, exposing a large expanse of skin below her collarbone to the morning light. The light traveled down her neck, casting soft shadows on her chest.
Her blonde hair was draped messily over her shoulders, and her eyes were not fully open, half-closed as she looked at him.
"Wake Roy and Mila up. They were punished by sleeping in the dressing room yesterday. They can't sleep in until they naturally wake up."
Gwen yawned slightly, covered her mouth with the back of her hand, and her bra strap slipped down another half inch.
"Go ahead, I'll handle them."
She casually hooked the slipped bra strap back up, her movements languid, and ran her fingertips across her collarbone.
Damian's gaze involuntarily followed the bra strap upwards, then followed her fingers as they slid from her collarbone to her shoulder.
The shoulder strap has been pulled back, but carelessly, and could slip down again at any moment.
As she turned over, the folds of the blanket around her waist were pulled, revealing a small patch of skin on the outside of her thigh, which was bathed in a thin layer of gold by the light.
He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, particularly noticeable in the quiet room.
"OK."
He miraculously agreed, his voice half a octave lower than usual.
He picked up the shirt and trousers draped over the back of the chair, and Earth Flow the master bedroom a beat faster than usual, the door closing softly behind him.
Gwen watched the door close, and the corners of her mouth slowly turned up.
She threw off the blanket, stepped barefoot onto the wooden floor, and her toes curled slightly on the cool floor.
She didn't change her clothes; instead, she casually picked up a knitted blanket from the soft stool at the foot of the bed, wrapped it around her shoulders, and then tiptoed silently across the wooden floor toward the dressing room.
The louvered sliding door to the walk-in closet was still the same crack Damian had left last night. Gwen placed her hand on the door frame and poked half her head in first.
Morning light streamed in through the only small window in the walk-in closet, casting a pale blue glow on the soft chair.
On the soft chair, Mila curled up in Roy's arms like a little animal that had rolled itself into a ball.
Her face was buried in Roy's chest, her breathing even, one hand clutching the front of Roy's shirt, her legs curled up, her knees pressing against Roy's lower abdomen, her toes tucked between Roy's calves for warmth.
Roy lay on his back in the soft chair, one hand resting on Mila's back, the other dangling over the edge of the chair, his knuckles almost touching the floor.
His chin rested on Mila's head, his mouth slightly open, his breathing low and even, his lips occasionally moving as if he were still arguing with someone in his dream.
His shirt was crumpled from Mila's grip, the collar askew, revealing a faint old scar on his collarbone.
The two of them huddled together on that tiny, soft chair in an extremely uncomfortable but perfectly natural position, like two cats squeezed into the same cardboard box, even though there was floor space next to them to lie on, they just had to squeeze together.
Gwen watched this scene, and her expression slowly changed.
She had originally come in wrapped in a blanket and tiptoed in intending to play a prank.
Last night, Damian punished them by making them sleep in the walk-in closet. She felt that wasn't enough; these two little rascals dared to climb the ventilation ducts to peek at their older brother and sister-in-law. Just punishing them by making them sleep in the walk-in closet was too lenient.
She intended to wake them up.
But after she crouched down and saw clearly their sleeping position, which was tucked up halfway, her outstretched finger froze in mid-air.
Her lips were still upturned, but the curve of her eyes slowly changed from a crescent shape to a softer curve.
Roy's breath ruffled a stray hair on Mila's forehead. Mila let out a soft hum and buried her face deeper into Roy's chest. Roy instinctively tightened his grip on Mila's back.
Gwen gently placed her hand on Roy's hair.
Roy's hair was softer than it looked, strands slipping through her fingers, carrying her body heat and a hint of the rusty smell she picked up while climbing the pipes the night before.
She stroked his head, gently circling her thumb on his forehead.
"That's wonderful," she whispered, her voice so soft that only she could hear it.
She was an adopted daughter of the Capone Family. Her godfather gave her the best education and the deepest paternal love, but the Capone Family was a vast mafia empire, not a family.
She had no younger siblings in her childhood. No one would tug at her skirt and call her "sister" when she woke up from her nap. No one would snatch the last piece of dessert from her. No one would hide behind her and ask for her help after she made a mistake.
She was raised as a strategic talent from a young age, and the people around her were either subordinates, competitors, or allies she needed to be wary of.
She had only ever read about younger siblings in books.
What I said to Roy and Mila in the side hall yesterday was sincere.
From a young age, she dreamed of having well-behaved and adorable younger siblings who could help her share the burden of the family, play with her in their spare time, and allow her to show off her authority as the eldest sister.
The Uchiha gave her everything she wanted.
Family, friendship, and love.
Roy's eyelids twitched.
In his dream, he felt something warm touching his head.
He groggily opened his eyes, and the morning light slanted in through the skylight, forming a pale golden mist in his field of vision.
In the misty light, a face was looking down at him, golden hair hanging down, glowing softly in the mist, the corners of its mouth curved, and its eyes filled with a tenderness he couldn't decipher.
He wasn't fully awake yet; his consciousness was still floating in the gray area between dreams and reality.
His blond hair shimmered in the light; that smile meant that the part of his brain responsible for language wasn't yet activated, while the part responsible for dreaming was still in operation.
"Angel sister..." he murmured, his voice muffled, his eyes half-open and half-closed.
Gwen paused for a moment, then burst out laughing.
The laughter shattered the silence in the dressing room and pulled Roy back from the edge of his dream.
Roy's eyes went from dazed to clear in a second. He realized what he had just said and who this "angel sister" in front of him was.
His neck started to feel hot again.
Gwen's laughter woke Mila up.
Mila opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw was Gwen, who was kneeling in front of her, wrapped only in a blanket.
The blanket was wrapped from her shoulders to her knees, revealing her bare calves and bare feet; more skin below her collarbone was visible than usual.
Her blonde hair was loose and disheveled outside the blanket, clearly indicating that she had just gotten out of bed.
She had a smile on her face, a smile Mila knew all too well; it was the same smile Gwen had given her yesterday afternoon in the side hall when she was pinching Gwen's chin.
A scene from deep within my memory was awakened.
Mila sat up abruptly.
She forgot she was lying on Roy, and her sudden movement caused her elbows to land directly on Roy's stomach.
Roy groaned as he was fully awakened by being pressed down. He instinctively tried to turn over but Mila held him down and he could only lie on his back, panting.
Mila sat on Roy's stomach, her back ramrod straight, looking at Gwen wrapped in a blanket. Her lips moved, but she couldn't say a word.
Her composure as an underground queen shattered completely in front of this woman wrapped in a blanket.
Roy sat up from behind Mila, a tuft of hair sticking up from the back of his head, his shirt wrinkled beyond recognition.
He kept his head down, not daring to look at Gwen, just like before in the White Wax Forest.
Gwen reached out and poked Roy's left cheek with the tip of her index finger.
Roy's cheek was poked, leaving a shallow dent, and his skin turned red from the spot where he was poked.
His shoulders twitched inward, and he froze as if he had been struck by an acupuncture point.
The moment Gwen touched him, his body went limp, and all his trained muscle memory failed him.
"Do you know you were wrong?" Gwen asked, tilting her head.
Roy nodded hastily, his movements small and quick, his chin bobbing back and forth between his chest and collarbone.
Gwen's fingertips were still poking his face, and his neck was red all the way to his ears.
Gwen withdrew her finger and clapped her hands in satisfaction. "Then go back and rest."
Roy sprang up from the armchair, his movement so fast he almost bumped into the wardrobe door.
He scrambled toward the door, his steps so erratic it was as if a tiger were behind him.
He stopped abruptly at the door of the dressing room, turned back, nodded to Gwen, and managed to say, "Thank you, sister-in-law."
Mila wanted to go out with them, but Gwen grabbed her wrist.
"Sister, don't go." Her voice was low, carrying a mysterious tone that only Mila could hear.
"Could you help me change my clothes?"
Mila's wrist froze in Gwen's hand.
Upon hearing this, Roy instinctively paused for a moment.
He glanced back; the composition of his gaze was complex.
There was lingering panic from being tricked by his sister-in-law, relief at seeing his younger sister about to face his sister-in-law alone, and a very faint trace of envy that he himself was unaware of.
Gwen noticed the moment he turned around.
She turned around, wrapped in a blanket, and looked at Roy standing dumbfounded in the doorway. She raised her eyebrows and gave a clearly mischievous smile.
"Does Roy's brother want to come too?"
Roy opened the door.
Roy rushed out.
Roy closed the door.
The fluidity of his movements was among the best in his entire career.
In the corridor.
Barlow emerged from the study carrying a cup of black tea and a summary of the Navy's emergency supply allocation principles that Gray had written the previous night.
Two hundred words, no more, no less, neat handwriting, and clear arguments.
He was planning to go to the restaurant for breakfast and finish grading Gray's homework at the table.
Just as he passed the master bedroom door, the door was suddenly flung open, and Roy rushed out.
Roy's shirt was wrinkled like sauerkraut, the collar was askew below his collarbone, several tufts of hair were sticking up, and his face was red from his forehead to the roots of his neck.
Before the door behind him closed, Barlow caught a glimpse through the crack in the door: Gwen, wrapped in a blanket, stood in the doorway of the dressing room.
The door closed.
Roy and Barlow stood facing each other in the hallway, silent.
Roy opened his mouth wide, like a fish just pulled from the water.
Barlow, holding his teacup, looked at Roy's face and quickly pieced together a logical chain of information in his mind:
Roy emerged from the master bedroom, disheveled and flushed, while Gwen, wrapped in a blanket, lay Gwen.
This logical chain leads to only one conclusion.
Barlow placed the teacup on the side table in the hallway, the bottom of the cup hitting the wood with a dull thud.
"Well, you're something else!" His tone suddenly shifted from calm to indignant.
"You've got some nerve! She's your sister-in-law now!"
"I have to teach you a lesson on behalf of my older brother!"
He rolled up his sleeves, moving slowly, not really intending to use force, but enough to make Roy think he was going to.
Barlow's reason told him that Roy might have the idea, but he wouldn't have the guts to do it.
But his intuition told him that Roy, looking like this, had to be beaten up after rushing out of his sister-in-law's room.
Roy jumped back a step, raising his hands in front of his chest in a defensive stance.
"Second brother, stop hitting him! Eldest brother has already taught him a lesson!"
Barlow's fist froze in mid-air. He squinted, picked up the cup of black tea again, and took a sip, like a detective who had discovered a crucial clue.
"So you actually went to peek at your sister-in-law changing clothes?!"
He put down his teacup, rolled up his sleeves again, this time more carefully.
"You're asking for it!"
"No!" Roy had no words to express his frustration.
"Sister-in-law, was this also part of your plan?" Roy thought bitterly.
Roy took off running, Barlow gave chase.
Roy rushed down the stairs, Barlow chased after him.
Roy rushed into the living room, Barlow followed him in.
Roy ran around the sofa, while Barlow intercepted him from the other side of the coffee table, taking a shortcut.
The two walked around the living room several times, causing the vase on the coffee table to wobble.
Gray sat at the table, a fried egg on his fork, about to put it in his mouth.
He tilted his head, watching his second uncle chase his third uncle from the living room into the dining room, then out the entrance hall, before turning to look upstairs and then at the fried eggs on the plate.
Gray looked completely puzzled.