Chapter 777: How About You Call Me Big Brother?

Outside the window, the snow had grown heavier, white flakes sliding down and tracing delicate lines beneath the orange-yellow streetlights.

Due to the temperature difference between inside and outside, a beautiful frost pattern had formed on the glass.

In front of the sofa.

Xu Qingzhou shook his head and still planned to go upstairs to analyze the experimental data released that morning.

“Xu Qingzhou~”

Song Yao squeezed her voice, began to pout; just moments ago she had been tugging at his clothes, now she clung tightly around his waist, refusing to let him leave, even putting on a pitiful expression.

Xu Qingzhou nearly lost his composure, thinking: “This girl’s emotional range is truly effortless—especially when it comes to feigning helplessness.”

He looked troubled: “That data is urgent.”

“Urgent my ass—you just want me to wear weird clothes.”

Song Yao saw right through him; she knew he was just making an excuse—whether it was urgent or not, she knew better than anyone.

Straps?

Impossible—she’d just bought the clothes, hadn’t even worn them yet; she didn’t want this guy to dirty them.

“Xu Qingzhou!”

Seeing soft tactics failed, Song Yao prepared to go hard.

“You really won’t wear it?” Xu Qingzhou countered.

Song Yao muttered, “If you like it so much, you can wear it yourself.”

Xu Qingzhou looked at the girl clinging to his waist. “Fine, don’t wear it then.”

Song Yao said nothing; based on her understanding of Xu Qingzhou, he wouldn’t give up so easily.

Sure enough, he changed tack and said tentatively, "How about you call me 'big brother'? Then I'll stay and keep you company."

A sudden idea.

Just now he’d seen Song Lulu post in the group saying she’d arrived at school; for no reason, the word “big brother” popped into his head.

If Song Yao could say it, it’d be kind of fun.

“?”

Song Yao tilted her head up, glaring at Xu Qingzhou, holding her breath for a long time, finally managing only these two words.

“Pervert!”

Xu Qingzhou remained unfazed by the two words; he even felt like laughing.

“What? It’s just a term of address—how is that a pervert thing?”

“You’re just a pervert, period.”

Song Yao mumbled, clinging to him without moving—calling him “big brother” was too embarrassing.

Xu Qingzhou put on a look of wounded misunderstanding. “All guys hope to have a little sister.”

“Heh.”

Song Yao expressed her disdain.

Xu Qingzhou kept coaxing: “Besides, I read an article saying when girls call ‘big brother,’ guys feel a protective urge, a sense of being depended on, and they want to hold them close and cherish them—I think you should try it.”

Song Yao feigned death, thinking: Even when I don’t call you, you still love me just as much—especially my feet.

“Won’t say it? Fine, I’ll go upstairs and do calculations then.”

Saying this, Xu Qingzhou pretended to pry her hands off.

Actually, whether she called him or not didn’t matter—he simply loved how she was now: proud, stubborn, and pouting.

“No!” Song Yao clung to him tightly, as if she’d decided to never let go.

“Miss Song, you should have higher ideals than getting stuck in these romantic trivialities.”

Xu Qingzhou spoke with solemn gravity.

Song Yao still refused to let go of his waist.

“.”

The living room grew tense for a moment.

A few seconds passed.