Counterfeit Hero

Stepping out of the study, Fatty discarded the tumultuous thoughts in his mind.

By nature, he disliked war; his journey to this day was merely driven by fate. For complex and difficult problems, Fatty never liked to spend too much time and effort bothering himself with them. Anyway, the bandit army couldn’t be hidden any longer. Whoever stood in the way, he would fight them to the death! Overthinking brought no benefits. In a limited life, seeking unlimited joy was Master Fatty’s true nature.

Like now... Helen seemed to be taking a bath.

Why was she taking a bath now? It must be on purpose!

The cold, stern faces of Sobel and Leefer were quickly kicked to the back of his mind. Fatty sneakily tiptoed up to the second floor. The electronic lock on Helen’s room only held for three seconds before the green light turned on.

Pushing the door open, the first thing that caught Fatty’s eye was a soft, old-fashioned Spanish-style large bed. A pale pink bed, with pale pink sheets and pillows, any psychology expert could see at a glance—this was the room of a soft-hearted woman. Women who like pink, are attached to their parents, like to be pampered, focus on beauty, are peaceful at heart, and full of a sense of security.

White wood paneling, floral wallpaper, and a thick cashmere carpet made the entire room look warm and cozy. Hearing the sound of water coming from the bathroom, Fatty sneaked into the room, immediately pounced on the bed like a tiger, and with trembling hands, grabbed the little flimsy underwear scattered on the bed, tears welling up in his eyes.

How long had it been since this era’s greatest lecher had touched such a Holy Artifact?!

If the ancestral master knew in his grave, he would cry himself to death.

Looking at the lace panties and bra in his hand, Fatty felt a lump in his throat. Thinking about his collection hidden in the Leray Capital home, which very likely had fallen into enemy hands, he felt heart-wrenching pain. For stealing those sacred collections, damn, how many beatings had he endured as a child!

The tenderness from his fingertips and the fragrance at his nostrils brought Fatty’s tortured soul a sliver of solace. Almost instinctively, he placed the bra on his head, clutched the panties, and, savoring them, stealthily approached the bathroom door.

The bathroom door was ajar, with the sound of rushing water from within. Peering through the door crack, Fatty held his breath and focused, seeing through the mist a perfect, voluptuous alabaster body in the water, resembling a white jade statue. Every line on that body was so graceful. The water flowed down the neck, cascaded over the trembling pink peaks, passed over the flat belly, the slender waist, flowed over the rounded, perfect hips and down the long legs.

Can’t take it, can’t take it, Fatty curled up outside the bathroom door, his heart pounding like thunder.

"Helen."

With a gentle, sweet call, Fatty turned back in horror.

At the bedroom door, Meiduo popped her head in. She saw Fatty at the door, his head topped with a bra, holding lace panties in hand, bending over with his butt sticking out.

The two locked eyes in shock.

"You can’t see me, you can’t see me," Fatty prayed internally, "Old man with a bra on his head, you can’t see me."

Meiduo stared dumbfounded at him, suddenly screamed, "Ah, what are you doing?"

Like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, Fatty jumped up instantly, flung the door open, and fled in panic.

********

Because Ann Lei had to work overtime, dinner took place under an awkward atmosphere with the three of them.

As Fatty’s personal nurse and life secretary, Meiduo had a culinary skill that earned endless praise. This petite and fair-skinned girl seemed inherently gifted with the potential to become a good housewife. No matter the dish, as long as she learned once, she could reproduce it to perfection.

Fatty slurped his rice, not daring to raise his eyes.

Across from him, Helen’s face was red and tender, as if it might drip water. It was unclear if it was a normal post-bath phenomenon, or if she was flustered by Fatty’s voyeurism.

If Helen occasionally bit her lip and gave Fatty a fierce glare, then Meiduo was like a little ostrich, her head down the entire time, her face flushed to the neck.

Meiduo regretted the shout just now down to her bones.

Thinking about Fatty with Helen’s bra on his head, and imagining Helen appearing at the bathroom door naked after Fatty’s hasty escape, Meiduo’s heart nearly jumped out. Why was her reaction so sluggish?

She wondered what this guy would do when she bathed...

Her mind was in chaos, constantly replaying Fatty’s threatening words while she cooked.

"When you give me a shot later, huh huh..." Thinking about Fatty’s astonishingly bright eyes staring at her backside under her nurse’s uniform, Meiduo felt weak all over.

At the dining table, the three quietly ate. The yellow wall lamp cast a soft and warm glow over the room. Occasionally, the clattering of bowls and chopsticks resounded, crisp and pleasant.

Just having left the cruel war, the pace of life suddenly slowed down in this small building.

No gunfire, no explosions, only a life so briefly yet peacefully joyful that it made one moan aloud. Compared to the misery of the chaotic world, such a life was especially cherished. No work, nor mundane matters. Just the thought of stepping out of this room back onto the battlefield with uncertain tomorrows, in this safe haven, all worldly rules that should’ve existed had vanished, leaving only a heart-pounding ambiguous scent.