"You can't escape me."

The deranged voice reverberated through the abandoned mansion, every syllable soaked in malice. A chill knifed down Lu Xiao's spine. Sweat beaded on his brow, his breaths ragged and shallow as he searched for an exit—any exit.

I have to get out. I can't let him catch me.

Three hours earlier,

Night blanketed Jing City when Lu Xiao trudged home after a sixteen‑hour shift, eyelids gritty with exhaustion. Bed. I just need my bed, he told himself, cutting through a deserted alley to save a few minutes.

"Mine, dear Lu Xiao…"

The words slithered from the shadows behind him. Lu Xiao turned. Under a flickering streetlamp stood a man clothed entirely in black. A porcelain hid half his face, the painted grin stretched unnaturally wide—like a doll that had learned to hate.

Terror jolted Lu Xiao awake. When the masked stranger lunged, he ran—heart thundering, lungs burning—past dim storefronts and shuttered stalls, until city lights gave way to overgrown fields and the looming silhouette of a long‑abandoned mansion on the outskirts.

He slipped inside, slamming the warped door behind him. Footsteps followed—slow, deliberate. Then the sing‑song refrain drifted through the corridors:

"You can't escape me…"

Now

Crouched inside a closet behind a blue door, Lu Xiao pressed trembling fingers to his lips, forcing himself to breathe silently. Through the crack between the doors he scanned the hallway, praying the killer would pass him by.

The universe remained silent.

CRACK. An axe head burst through the blue door, splintering the wood. Lu Xiao bit back a scream. Again and again, the blade punched through until the ruined door sagged inward.

"Found you, Lu Xiao."

The closet jerked open. A gloved hand seized his collar, yanking him into the corridor's sickly lamplight. He choked out a plea. "P‑please—let me go—"

His words were devoured by a brutal kiss, tasting of iron and madness. The masked man pinned him against the crumbling wall; Lu Xiao's struggles were hopeless against his strength.

Breathless, the stranger whispered, almost lovingly, "If I can't have you, then no one can."

Steel glinted. The knife rose.

"NO—!" Lu Xiao's scream fractured the air, and then the world went black.

Light.

Blinding, soft, endless white light.

Lu Xiao's eyelids fluttered open, and he gasped, sucking in air he wasn't even sure he needed. Beneath him stretched an expanse of clouds—cottony, pale, and unnaturally still. He was floating.

"Am I... dead?" he whispered, sitting up slowly. "Did I really… die?"

His voice was swallowed by the vast silence. There was no wind, no sun, no sound—just white in every direction. It felt holy. Sacred.

Heaven? he thought. Is this what it looks like?

But before he could gather his thoughts, a voice echoed above him:

"Yes, you're dead. But this isn't heaven. This is System Space, and I am System 8219."

Startled, Lu Xiao looked up—then nearly fell off the cloud.

Hovering above him was a translucent, fluorescent green cat. Holographic in texture, it had large triangular ears, glowing digital eyes, and a swishing tail that pixelated slightly every time it moved.

Lu Xiao blinked. "...I've gone insane."

The cat-like figure floated closer, its digital tail curling with an amused flick.

"No, you're not insane. You were killed by the masked assailant. This space exists between life and reincarnation. But I can offer you a second chance."

Lu Xiao's mouth parted slightly. He wanted to laugh. But the logic refused to unravel.

He pinched his cheek—hard.

"Ow…"

He tried again. Harder.

Still, pain bloomed under his fingers. The cloud didn't vanish. The cat didn't disappear.

"I think I am hallucinating. I may have read too transmigration novel …" he mumbled, and tried pinching his cheeks again and it hurt again .

Everything infront of him was indeed the reality and he wasn't hallucinating.

The cat rolled its virtual eyes with exaggerated exasperation.

"Snap out of it. Do you want your life back or not?"

At that moment, Lu Xiao's heart clenched. Scenes flashed across his mind—his frail mother coughing in a hospital bed, his father breaking his back at a factory, his little sister crying quietly over overdue school fees. Reality hit him like a freight train.

He sat up straighter, face pale but resolute. "Yes. I want it back. Please."

The holographic feline dipped its head in acknowledgment. "I can revive you, but it comes with a condition."

"What kind of condition?" Lu Xiao asked cautiously.

"You'll be bound to me, System 8219. You'll need to enter different worlds and complete missions. Success earns you points. With enough, you regain your life in your original world."

Lu Xiao hesitated for barely a second. "I agree."

"Are you sure?" the system asked again, voice more serious. "Once the binding is complete, there's no turning back."

Lu Xiao nodded without hesitation. "Yes. I'll do it."

"Very well," said the cat. "Then give me a name. The contract cannot complete until you name your system."

Lu Xiao blinked at that. "A name?"

The cat floated patiently.

"…Then I'll call you Kiwi."

The cat glowed brighter in response. A low humming sound filled the space as bright green data streams spiraled around them.

The cat glowed brighter in response. A low humming sound filled the space as bright green data streams spiraled around them.

[System Binding: Complete.]

Host: Lu Xiao.

System Name: Kiwi.

Mission Protocol Initializing…

"Wait—stop! STOP!" Lu Xiao shouted, flailing his arms as digital light surged around him.

The glow flickered. A mechanical chime followed:

[Mission Protocol Initialization: Paused.]

Floating above him, Kiwi blinked in clear annoyance. "What now, host?"

Lu Xiao adjusted his collar, trying to regain a shred of dignity. "Um… Shouldn't there be a starter kit or something first? You know, a beginner's gift pack? A status screen? Points system? I've read a lot of transmigration novels, and this feels… incomplete."

Kiwi's holographic pupils dilated.

"Oh my code! You're right! How did I forget?" The glowing cat did a somersault in the air, its digital body briefly glitching in embarrassment. "I was so focused on the binding process, I completely skipped the orientation."

Kiwi cleared its throat, voice turning more official.

"Welcome, Host Lu Xiao, to System 8219's Multiverse Mission Program—nickname Kiwi Incorporated!

You, the host, will enter multiple target worlds to complete personalized missions. Completion will earn you system points, which can be used for items, skills, world privileges, and even shortcuts.

You also receive a one-time Starter Package for being such a clever newbie."

A green light pulsed as a floating interface opened in front of Lu Xiao, showing:

[Starter Kit Received]

Basic World Language Sync Chip

Beginner's Luck (Limited Use)

Novice Stealth Skill – Level 1

Emergency Return Talisman (One-Time Use)

100 System Points

Lu Xiao's eyes lit up. "Now this feels real."

Kiwi beamed proudly. "Of course. I offer only the most premium transmigration experience."

Lu Xiao scrolled through the interface, amazed. It was cleaner than any RPG system he'd ever seen—sleek, glowing buttons, categories for "Skills", "Inventory", "World Map", and even "Villain Affection Levels" (which he pointedly ignored).

Kiwi floated closer, tail curling into a question mark. "So, are we finally ready to begin?"

Lu Xiao took a deep breath. His heart thudded—but this time, with anticipation rather than fear.

"…Yeah. Let's do this."

[Mission Protocol Initialization: Resuming…]

Loading First World… Synchronizing Host Data…

Mission Difficulty: Medium

Objective: Pamper the Villain

As the space fractured around him like breaking glass, Lu Xiao felt himself falling—his body dissolving into threads of light.

He wasn't scared.

This time, he was ready.

The world twisted like a spinning kaleidoscope before slamming into stillness.

Lu Xiao staggered as his feet touched solid ground—or rather, a thick velvet carpet. His vision blurred, his stomach rolled with nausea, and his limbs felt strangely out of sync, as if they no longer belonged to him.

"Ugh… my head…"

He reached out blindly and braced himself against the nearest surface—a carved mahogany table that felt colder than it looked. Steadying his breaths, he tried not to collapse.

"Kiwi…" he croaked. "You got something for this… transmigration hangover or whatever it is?"

The green holographic cat flickered into view above his shoulder, eyes glowing with simulated concern.

"There is a potion called Cure Effect available in the system store for a very reasonable price of 250 points. Would you like to purchase it?"

Lu Xiao froze. "How many points do I have again?"

"100. Starter bonus." Kiwi said cheerfully. "You are—how do they say it?—tragically broke."

Lu Xiao rolled his eyes and waved the hologram away. "I'd rather die again than start my new life in debt. Pass."

He glanced around, still dizzy. A massive bed with embroidered silk covers caught his eye, and he all but collapsed onto it, sighing as the mattress cradled his aching body.

Once the nausea faded and the spinning stopped, he finally looked around properly.

And then he really looked.

Ornate chandeliers. Gold-trimmed curtains. A private bar stocked with top-shelf liquor. The entire room screamed money—the kind of money that didn't come from hard work but power. Ruthless, old-money, generational power.

"…Kiwi," he said slowly, "who exactly have I transmigrated into?"

"Transferring plot data and host identity information now," Kiwi replied.

A second later, Lu Xiao clutched his head as a tidal wave of information crashed into his brain. His temples throbbed. His breath hitched.

[Data transfer complete.]

Lu Xiao sat still for a moment, head pounding, before massaging his temples and sitting upright. He blinked, trying to process the flood of memory fragments, names, timelines, and relationship webs now seared into his consciousness.

And then, he froze.

His voice dropped to a whisper. "…No way."

According to the plot, he was now inhabiting the body of Mu Xiao, the infamous third master of the Wu family.

Cold-blooded. Cunning. Calculating.

More importantly—he was the uncle of the villain.

And not just any uncle.

He was the one who emotionally neglected, manipulated, and eventually betrayed the original villain when he was still young and fragile. His cruelty and abandonment had been the final push that led to the villain's descent into darkness and destruction.

Lu Xiao's mouth went dry.

"...Why the hell am I playing the villain's blackening catalyst?!"

Lu Xiao sat in stunned silence, staring blankly at the chandelier above.

A villain's tragic past was usually complicated—abandonment, betrayal, maybe a massacre or two. But this?

He ran a hand through his hair and muttered to himself in disbelief.

"Mu Xiao became the blackening catalyst… just because he wanted to snatch the villain's father's rundown grocery store?"

He leaned forward, brows furrowing deeper.

"That store couldn't even make a profit of 1,000 yuan a day, and Mu Xiao's company pulls in billions in daily turnover! What in the dog-blood logic is this?!"

His voice rose at the end, borderline hysterical. He turned his head toward Kiwi, who had reappeared mid-air, its tail swinging nonchalantly.

"Are you kidding me right now?!"

The system blinked at him with an indifferent expression.

"It is what it is."

Lu Xiao looked betrayed. "No, seriously. I thought transmigrating into a villain's uncle meant I'd at least have some juicy, complex backstory. Not... property greed over a glorified vegetable stall!"

Kiwi gave a tiny shrug, unfazed. "Plot logic isn't always logical. Blame the original author."

Lu Xiao sighed in despair, rubbing his temples. "Alright, alright. What's the timeline? I need to know where we're at."

Kiwi's voice took on a calm, almost lazy tone.

"Today is June 2nd, XXXX. Time: 8:00 PM."

Something clicked.

Lu Xiao bolted upright. "Wait—June 2nd?! Isn't that the day when the villain's first tragedy unfolds?!"

A smile curled on Kiwi's face, far too serene for the moment.

"Correct. The first significant trauma in the villain's life takes place tonight… in about thirty minutes."

"…Fk."

Lu Xiao's curse dropped from his lips before he could filter it. His gaze darted across the room, finally landing on a sleek black car key resting on the side table.

No hesitation.

He snatched the key and sprinted toward the door, legs moving on instinct. He didn't care how ridiculous the plot was—he refused to let things spiral just because of one idiotic, avoidable event.

But just as his fingers brushed the doorknob—

"Host."

Kiwi's voice echoed from behind, but it wasn't its usual cutesy tone.

It had deepened, metallic and cold.

"You cannot go OOC. If you step too far out of character, the punishment will be... excruciating."

Lu Xiao froze.

His spine prickled with sudden chill, and he turned to glance back. Kiwi's glowing green eyes hovered in the darkened room, eerily bright against the shadows. For a moment, the system didn't look like a cat—it looked like a judge.

He swallowed hard.

"…Got it," he said quietly. "I'll keep that in mind."

Then he pushed open the door and disappeared into the corridor.

.

.

.

Wu Yiheng waves off his final customer, the shop's rattling doorbell falling silent behind them. Night air drifts in, carrying the faint smell of rain and exhaust. He is reaching for the light switch when a tiny tug on his trouser leg stops him.

"Papa, I'm hungry."

The voice is soft, barely above a whisper.

He glances down to see his seven-year-old son, Wu Zixuan—skinny arms wrapped around his knees, gaze bright with quiet trust. The word hungry lands like a stone in Yiheng's chest, yanking loose an old memory.

Three years ago, the shop was even smaller, and so was Zixuan. His wife, Yu Qian, had cornered him in this very aisle, waving an overdue-rent notice and spitting anger. Why waste money on a dead-end grocery? she'd screamed, blaming every struggle on the toddler who clung to Yiheng's shirtfront, wailing in fright. When her hand flew toward the boy's cheek, Yiheng had caught her wrist on instinct—then slapped her instead.

Yu Qian's face had twisted with disbelief and fury. The next morning she was gone, suitcase in hand and vows of never coming back echoing in the doorway. Since then Yiheng has juggled odd jobs, balanced ledgers that never quite match, and played both father and mother to the child now tugging his pant leg.

Reality snaps back like an elastic band. Yiheng bends, scooping Zixuan into his arms. "All right, little An-An," he murmurs, brushing a stray hair from the boy's forehead. "We'll eat in just a moment. Let Papa close the shop."

Zixuan nods, a small smile forming despite the growl in his stomach. Yiheng sets him gently on the counter, turns toward the door—

—and freezes.

A line of men blocks the entrance, silhouettes hard and menacing under the streetlamp glare. Hockey sticks, metal bats, even the dull glint of an axe head rest casually against their shoulders. Bandanas and surgical masks hide their faces, but not their intent.

Cold fear spikes through Yiheng's veins. Behind him, Zixuan's fingers clutch his shirt.

"Zixuan," he whispers, voice tight, eyes never leaving the intruders, "go and—"

He swallows, forces the word past dry lips.

"—hide."

Wu Zixuan's small feet pounded across the narrow threshold that connected the grocery shop to the family's living quarters. Terrified, he darted into the bedroom, yanked open the wardrobe door, and wedged himself among winter coats that smelled faintly of mothballs and his father's after-shave.

He hugged his knees, tears spilling down his cheeks.

Don't make a sound… Papa said hide… hide…

Through the thin plywood he could still hear everything: the crash of shelves tipping, the thwack of a bat against flesh, and—worst of all—his father's pained shout.

"Ah—!"

Zixuan's sob caught in his throat. He clamped both hands over his mouth, hiccuping silently while the bedroom light flickered under the doorframe.

Then the footsteps came.

The closet door ripped open.

A masked man loomed over him, axe head glinting under the bare bulb. Even with most of his face covered, Zixuan could see the crinkling of his eyes—a smile.

"Found you, brat. Madam's paying ten million once you're gone."

He hefted the axe, raising it high.

"D-don't… Please—don't kill me…"

The axe never fell.

A sharp crack—like a whip—and the man flew sideways, hurled into the dresser so hard the mirror shattered. Dust and splinters rained across the floor.

Breathless, Zixuan looked up.

A stranger stood in the doorway, backlit by the hall light so that it haloed around him. He was tall, lean, immaculately dressed in a charcoal suit that seemed out of place among broken furniture and spilled rice. His eyes, cold moments ago, now softened when they landed on the trembling child.

In three swift strides he reached the closet, knelt, and gently lifted Zixuan into his arms.

"Are you hurt?" The voice was low, reassuring.

Zixuan stared, wide-eyed, chest still hitching. The man was… glowing? No—just the hallway bulb catching the dust in the air, wrapping him in pale gold. Nothing about him felt like the bad men outside.

"I-I'm okay," Zixuan whispered, fingers digging into the lapel of the stranger's suit. "Who… who are you?"

Relief curved the man's lips into a faint smile. "I'm Mu Xiao."

The name echoed in Zixuan's head. His eyes widened in fear . Chill passed down his spines . He started stammering but then everything went black .

Lu Xiao blinked in disbelief as the little villain collapsed against his chest the moment he heard Mu Xiao's name.

Did I scare him that badly?

He shifted the boy's weight carefully and murmured, "Kiwi, has Wu Zixuan ever even met Mu Xiao before?"

The system's emerald form flickered, data strings dancing across its feline eyes. "Scanning… Analyzing… Done. According to the original timeline, Host, Wu Zixuan and Mu Xiao have never formally interacted. Their gazes crossed once or twice at Old Madam Wu's funeral two years ago, but no conversation occurred."

"Figures," Lu Xiao muttered. "All right—did you call the police?"

"Affirmative. Patrol officers will arrive in approximately one hour."

With that reassurance, Lu Xiao carried the unconscious child downstairs. The grocery aisles were a wreck—broken jars, toppled shelves, the pungent tang of soy sauce mixing with coppery blood. Kneeling, he pressed two fingers to Wu Yiheng's neck.

No pulse.

A quiet sigh escaped him. "Poor man."

Stay until the police arrive, he thought, but Kiwi's voice sliced through.

"Reminder: Mu Xiao dislikes involving himself with law enforcement. Remaining here risks an out-of-character penalty."

Lu Xiao grimaced. So the 'evil uncle' rescues a kid, but hates cops. Contradictory much? Still, he couldn't afford system punishment. He straightened and headed for the back door.

.

.

.

Mu Residence, Thirty Minutes Later

Rows of guards and uniformed butlers snapped to attention as the sleek Maybach rolled into the courtyard. Their expressions froze when Mu Xiao—normally aloof and alone—stepped out cradling a sleeping child.

Gasps fluttered down the line, but no one dared speak; the third master's eccentric temper was legendary.

Lu Xiao lifted his chin. "Steward Zhang."

The head butler hurried forward. "Yes, Master Mu."

"Have Dr. Lin come at once. Prepare a guest room next to mine—quiet floor, soft lighting. The child's name is Wu Zixuan. He is to be treated with… extreme care." A beat of hesitation—then he added, "And new pajamas. Cotton, nothing scratchy."

Steward Zhang's brows shot up at the gentleness but he bowed without comment. "Understood, sir."

Lu Xiao transferred the boy into the butler's arms, brushed a stray hair from the small forehead, and turned away. He needed a shower—and a moment alone to decide how an "evil uncle" was supposed to pamper a future villain without appearing soft.

Behind him, the manor staff scattered into efficient motion, and soft footfalls carried Wu Zixuan toward a room reserved for someone precious.

Lu Xiao exhaled. Act the role, save the kid, earn the points.

Simple on paper. Impossible in practice.

But at least—for tonight—Wu Zixuan was safe.

.

.

.

Dr. Lin's fingers trembled slightly as he adjusted the stethoscope, beads of sweat gathering on his forehead. He had treated many patients over the years, but never under the watchful silence of the third master of the Mu family.

Behind him, Mu Xiao stood like a statue, his gaze sharp and unreadable.

Unbeknownst to Dr. Lin, Mu Xiao wasn't glaring at him out of impatience—but deep in thought.

"Kiwi… something about this whole situation doesn't add up."

Kiwi's voice responded calmly.

"What part is bothering you, Host?"

"The original Mu Xiao wanted Wu Yiheng's tiny, unprofitable shop so badly he indirectly pushed the villain into darkness. But tonight, he saved both father and son from a gang of armed men. If he truly only wanted the property, wouldn't it have been easier to let them die? He's rich enough to take that land through legal or illegal means."

Kiwi paused. "According to the original data, Wu Yiheng transferred the deed to Wu Zixuan's name shortly after Old Madam Wu's death. If the boy died, the property would have defaulted to a welfare trust. Mu Xiao wouldn't have gained anything. So, he kept Zixuan alive to preserve his claim."

The system added, "Or perhaps—"

But Kiwi was interrupted as Dr. Lin turned around, forcing a respectful smile.

"Master Mu," he said, "the young boy is physically fine. He fainted due to emotional shock. He's also slightly undernourished, which suggests long-term imbalance in his diet. I'll prepare a nutrition chart and send supplements with the next house call."

Lu Xiao nodded, slipping seamlessly into character. "Thank you, Dr. Lin."

Dr. Lin bowed and was escorted out by Steward Zhang. The door closed with a soft click, and silence settled once more.

Lu Xiao walked to the edge of the bed and looked at the small figure lying beneath crisp, white sheets.

He's just a child… and he's already lived through hell.

Just then, Wu Zixuan stirred. His lashes fluttered, then opened, revealing dazed, frightened eyes. He blinked at the unfamiliar room—chandeliers, velvet curtains, and rich furniture unlike anything he'd ever known.

Then his eyes landed on Mu Xiao.

Panic.

He bolted upright, backing against the headboard with the pillow clutched tightly to his chest like a shield.

"P-please… don't hurt me," he whimpered. "Please don't kill me…"

Lu Xiao froze. What...? Why is he reacting like this?

Wu Zixuan's heart pounded. In his young mind, memories raced back—memories of a day drenched in black umbrellas and white chrysanthemums. Old Madam Wu's funeral. He had seen Mu Xiao there from afar, standing alone, untouchable in his cold elegance.

The child had tugged his mother's sleeve, curious.

"Can I go talk to him?" he had asked, thinking the man looked like someone out of a storybook.

His mother's expression had darkened.

"No," she had said sternly. "You must stay away from him. That's your uncle Mu. He's dangerous. He hurts people."

"But he's family…"

"Exactly," she had said with an edge of bitterness. "And that's what makes him worse. If you value your life, never speak to him. Never trust him."

From that day on, she'd whispered more stories—half-truths, warnings disguised as bedtime lessons.

Uncle Mu doesn't love anyone. Uncle Mu destroys everything he touches. Uncle Mu is why your grandmother died.

So now, in a strange bed, trapped alone with that very man, Wu Zixuan could only tremble and beg.

"Don't hurt me… please…"

And Mu Xiao—who had no idea why this small boy feared him like the devil himself—could only stare in stunned silence.

Mu Xiao drew a steady breath, then let his voice sink to the gentlest register he could manage.

"Calm down, Zixuan. I won't hurt you."

He knelt beside the mattress so their eyes were level. "I'm your Uncle Mu—your family. If I meant you harm, I wouldn't have saved you tonight, would I? And who could ever hurt a child as cute as you?"

The unexpected compliment painted a warm flush across Zixuan's cheeks. He hid behind the pillow again, peeking out a moment later.

"You… you really won't hurt me?" he whispered.

"Never," Mu Xiao said without hesitation. "Good children like Wu Zixuan deserve to be protected."

The boy's shoulders loosened. Still, he puffed out his cheeks in grudging protest. "I'm not a child. I'm seven."

A soft chuckle slipped from Mu Xiao's throat—low, melodic, instantly soothing.

"Of course. Seven is practically a young gentleman."

Zixuan's lips curved into a shy smile. The pillow slid aside, discarded and forgotten.

► System prompt: Villain blackening value decreased by 3 % → 25 %

Lu Xiao's heart skipped, though his expression stayed serene. Only seven years old and already a quarter blackened… What did this kid live through?

He smoothed the blanket. "Then our young gentleman should rest well, so he can grow taller, smarter, and even more handsome."

Zixuan nodded obediently, arranged the pillow, and lay down. "Good night… Uncle Mu." Within moments, his breathing evened into the soft rhythm of sleep.

Lu Xiao tucked the blanket to the boy's chin, whispered, "Good night," and slipped into the hallway.

A weight of unease settled over him. Twenty-five percent blackening at this age—he must have endured far more than neglect.

At the landing he nearly collided with Steward Zhang, returning from escorting Dr. Lin, diet chart in hand.

"Third Master."

Mu Xiao lowered his voice. "Something's wrong with the child—he's insecure, under-confident, and clearly malnourished. Quietly find out what led to his condition. I want every detail."

Steward Zhang bowed. "Yes, Third Master." He departed, efficiency in every step.

Lu Xiao watched him go, resolve hardening. If fate dealt Wu Zixuan tragedy, I'll rewrite the script—one percent at a time.

.

.

.

Morning sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the Mu family's dining hall, casting golden rays across the marble floors. Mu Xiao sat alone at the long table, his untouched breakfast growing cold. His gaze was distant, expression heavy with thoughts that refused to fade.

The head butler, Steward Zhang, approached quietly, setting a fresh pot of tea before him.

"Third Master… what did the hospital say about Second Master Wu's condition?"

Mu Xiao didn't respond right away.

Earlier that morning, he'd contacted the hospital where Wu Yiheng had been taken the previous night. Though he hadn't held much hope, a small part of him had still clung to the possibility of a miracle.

But the doctor's voice had been steady and final.

"We tried our best, but... we couldn't save him. I'm sorry."

In his mind, Kiwi's voice broke through the silence.

Kiwi: "Host, according to the original plot, Wu Yiheng was destined to die during last night's attack. Even if you had intervened sooner, the outcome wouldn't have changed."

Lu Xiao closed his eyes for a brief moment.

"I know… but still…"

He sighed and turned to the butler, his voice low.

"Wu Yiheng is gone."

Steward Zhang stiffened, eyes widening. "He's… dead?"

Mu Xiao gave a slow nod.

Shock rippled across the butler's face, quickly followed by sorrow. "He was a good man. Honest. Dignified… despite everything."

"We'll need to arrange a proper funeral," Mu Xiao said firmly, masking his emotions behind a calm mask. "Nothing extravagant, but dignified. As he deserves."

"Yes, Third Master. I'll handle the preparations immediately," Steward Zhang replied. But then hesitated. "But… how are we going to tell the young master? How do we tell a seven-year-old child that his father is never coming back?"

Both men fell into silence, the weight of the moment pressing down on them. The soft clink of a spoon from across the room was the only sound—until it wasn't.

A small voice broke through.

"...Is my father dead?"

The butler turned sharply.

Mu Xiao's eyes snapped toward the doorway.

There stood Wu Zixuan in his pajamas, barefoot, his tiny fingers clenched at his sides. His hair was mussed from sleep, but his eyes—wide, red-rimmed, and searching—were clearer than ever.

He had heard everything.