It has been five years since I opened my eyes in this strange but beautiful world, and every passing day still feels like a dream I am struggling to completely comprehend. Sometimes, when I sit quietly and stare at the peach blossoms outside my window, I wonder if perhaps all of this is just a long illusion, a fantasy woven by my tired mind from my previous life. But the warmth of my brother’s hand when he pats my head, the gentle smile of my mother when she returns from her expeditions, and the serious gaze of my father whenever he speaks to me remind me that this is all real. I was reborn, and whether it was the blessing of the heavens or the trick of fate, I now live a second life as Wei Ning.

In my previous life, I was an ordinary college student, buried beneath piles of assignments and surrounded by the never-ending chatter of campus life. My world then was filled with books—novels of all genres, each carrying me into worlds far beyond my small dormitory room. Among them, I particularly loved reincarnation stories. How ironic, that the very thing I spent nights reading and secretly praying for became my reality. I used to lie awake, staring at the ceiling fan in my cramped room, and whisper: *“If only I could reincarnate into another world, a world filled with grandeur, where life isn’t monotonous.”* Never did I expect the heavens—or fate—to actually listen.

When I first opened my eyes here, I was no longer a weary student but a small, fragile baby, cradled gently in my mother’s arms. Her eyes, soft as moonlight, looked down at me with indescribable tenderness. My father stood beside her, tall and protective, his gaze firm yet warm. For a while, I could not understand the sounds they made, but slowly, as days passed, I recognized the language: it was Chinese. It felt surreal, for in my past life I had studied only fragments of it. Eventually, I was given a name—Wei Ning.

My father is Wei Xiao, and my mother is Mei Lin. Both of them are archaeologists, people who dedicate their lives to uncovering the mysteries of civilizations long gone. Though they both belong to wealthy families, neither cared for riches or luxury. My father, especially, despite being the only heir to the vast Wei family fortune, turned away from the inheritance and chose a life among ruins and artifacts. People whispered about his stubbornness, but I found it admirable—choosing passion over gold.

My parents had me late in their lives. I also have an elder brother, Wei Chen, who is fifteen years older than me. At the time of my birth, he was already a youth with shoulders broad enough to carry the responsibilities of the family. When I was still a toddler, my brother assumed the role of the Wei family’s young head. Now, at twenty, he commands respect from elders and manages affairs with wisdom far beyond his age.

After I was born, my parents paused their expeditions for two whole years to raise me. Those years remain etched in my heart—my mother humming lullabies, my father reading me ancient legends, and the warmth of our home untainted by distance. But their passion for archaeology eventually called them back, and soon they resumed their travels, leaving me under the care of my grandparents. Yet, it was my brother, Wei Chen, who became the center of my little world.

Despite being weighed down by responsibilities, he never let me feel lonely. I remember one evening vividly, when I tugged at his sleeve while he was buried in stacks of documents.

“Gege,” I called softly, my voice timid.

He looked up, setting his brush aside. “What is it, Ning’er?”

“Will you play with me?” I asked, clutching a wooden toy horse.

A faint smile broke through his serious expression. “Of course. Documents can wait, but my little sister cannot.”

That night, we played until I fell asleep in his arms. It was moments like those that carved an unshakable bond between us.

On my mother’s side, she is the eldest daughter of the Mei family, a household of equal prestige. Her younger brother, Mei Fang, is now the CEO of their family’s vast company. Though my mother is often absent, her family showers me with affection. Between the Wei and Mei families, I was never short of love, yet the person I cherished most was always my brother.

Because I carried the memories of my past life, my behavior was never that of a typical child. I did not throw tantrums or demand unreasonable things. I spoke politely, thought deeply, and often startled adults with my composure. My parents, at first, were concerned. They took me to physicians, fearing something was wrong. After examinations, one doctor reassured them: *“Your daughter is simply more mature than others her age. She will be fine.”*

Relieved, my parents accepted it. This was one of the reasons they could return to their work without fear, for I never troubled anyone with childish chaos. My grandparents often remarked, *“Ning’er is unlike any child we have ever seen. She listens, observes, and learns as if she carries the mind of someone older.”* They were right, though they would never know the truth—that within this child’s body lived the soul of a young woman who once walked a different world.

Sometimes, in the quiet hours of the night, I question the reason for my reincarnation. Was it merely a twist of fate? Or was there a greater purpose waiting for me here, tied to the legacies of the Wei and Mei families? Whatever the answer may be, I know this: I will treasure the love I receive in this life, protect the family that embraces me, and walk a path that perhaps even fate itself cannot predict.

Thus, at the tender age of five, I live not merely as Wei Ning, but as someone who has lived twice—once in a world of mundane struggles, and now in a world woven with the threads of heritage, responsibility, and unspoken mysteries. And at the heart of it all, my brother Wei Chen remains the anchor of my existence, the person I love most in this vast, unfamiliar life.

I don’t have that many friends. Or rather, I never tried to have any. After all, how could I? Inside, I was an adult with years of memories, yet outside, I was trapped in the small body of a child. The idea of pretending to be like the other children, laughing, crying, and playing silly games, always made me uncomfortable.

I could not bring myself to join kindergarten. Just the thought of sitting among toddlers, singing childish songs, and building blocks felt absurd to me. How could I play with them? In my mind, they were nothing but kids, innocent and carefree, while I… I was not like them. I didn’t even know how to “play” the way they did anymore.

My brother, however, would never leave me alone. He tried every possible way to persuade me to attend classes.

“Come on, little sis,” he pleaded one morning, crouching in front of me with his usual mischievous grin. “It won’t be that bad. You’ll get to meet new friends, maybe even someone who likes the same things as you!”

I crossed my arms stubbornly, pouting. “I don’t need friends. I already have books. Why should I waste time playing with silly toys?”

He ruffled my hair, ignoring my scowl. “You can’t just stay at home forever. Even grandpa and grandma think it’s not healthy for you. Look at you—always reading, always serious. You’re like a little old lady trapped in a child’s body!”

His teasing made my cheeks heat up. “Better than being a fool running around like you!” I snapped back.

But my brother wasn’t discouraged. He was as persistent as ever. Finally, when he failed to convince me, he went as far as complaining to grandpa and grandma.

“Grandpa, grandma, she refuses to even try! What are we supposed to do? She’ll turn into a hermit before she even learns how to braid her hair properly!”

They laughed, of course, amused by his exaggeration. But they, too, gently encouraged me. “Sweetheart,” Grandma said, patting my hand, “you should at least give it a try. If you don’t like it, you can always come back. But you’ll never know unless you go.”

At last, cornered by their gentle yet relentless persuasion, I relented.

“Fine,” I declared, puffing my cheeks like an angry kitten. “I’ll attend classes for one day. Just one. If I like it, I’ll stay. But if I don’t… I won’t. That’s final!”

My brother’s face lit up with triumph. “Deal!” he said, offering his pinky finger. “I promise, you’ll like it. Trust me!”

I hesitated but hooked my little finger with his anyway. “If I hate it, you’ll never mention kindergarten to me again,” I warned.

“Fair enough,” he replied with a grin, though his sparkling eyes told me he had no doubt this plan would work.

The next day arrived faster than I wished. My brother held my hand tightly as we approached the kindergarten gates. The sound of children’s laughter echoed in the air, high-pitched and carefree. I sighed in frustration, dragging my feet like a prisoner being led to execution.

Noticing my long face, my brother chuckled. “Why do you look like you’re heading to a battlefield?”

“Because it is a battlefield,” I muttered under my breath. “A battlefield of nonsense.”

“What was that?” he asked, clearly amused.

“Nothing,” I said curtly, glaring up at him.

When he saw the glare in my eyes, he exaggerated a look of fear, clutching his chest dramatically. “Oh no, the little demon glares again! Save me, someone, before she burns me with her eyes!”

I stomped my foot. “Stop mocking me!”

The teachers nearby smiled at our antics, though I felt my cheeks burn in embarrassment.

Since I had promised to spend the entire day there, my brother finally let go of my hand and passed me to one of the teachers. As he prepared to leave, I saw the mischievous smirk on his face. It made my blood boil. Without thinking, I hurled my small schoolbag at him.

“Take that, you bully!”

But he caught it effortlessly, laughing. He then handed it back to the teacher and, to add insult to injury, blew me a flying kiss.

“Be good, little sis. Have fun!” he said teasingly before disappearing into the car.

“Arghh! I’ll get you for this!” I shouted after him, stamping my foot again. The other children stared at me with wide eyes, some giggling at my outburst. My cheeks grew hotter.

The teacher, a kind-looking woman with gentle eyes, crouched to my level. “Don’t worry, dear. Your brother will come pick you up later. Why don’t we go inside together? You’ll like it once you meet the other children.”

I wasn’t convinced, but I followed her reluctantly. The classroom smelled faintly of crayons, chalk, and the sweet scent of milk biscuits. Children sat at tiny tables, some coloring, some stacking blocks, others chatting loudly.

I wanted to groan. This is exactly what I was afraid of.

Suddenly, a small boy with messy hair and a missing front tooth ran up to me. “Hi! Are you new? What’s your name?”

I blinked at his enthusiasm. “Uh… yes. My name is—”

Before I could finish, he grabbed my hand. “Come play blocks with us! We’re building a castle, and we need more soldiers!”

“Soldiers?” I repeated, bewildered.

“Yeah! You can be the princess soldier!” he said proudly, dragging me along.

I glanced helplessly at the teacher, who only smiled and nodded encouragingly. With no choice, I let myself be pulled into their little circle.

The boy introduced himself as Ming, and his friends were Mei and Tao. They were busy stacking colorful blocks, making uneven towers.

“Here, you put this one!” Mei handed me a bright red block.

I stared at it, unsure. “I… don’t really know how to play.”

They all laughed, thinking I was joking. Tao patted my arm. “Just put it on top, silly!”

So I did. To my surprise, their faces lit up with delight, as though I had just done something amazing.

“Wow! Now the tower’s taller!” Ming cheered.

I blinked. That’s it? That’s all it takes to make them happy?

As the day went on, I found myself reluctantly pulled into their world. We played with clay, where Mei proudly showed me how to make little flowers. I watched her tiny hands shaping the petals with such focus that I unconsciously tried it myself. My clumsy attempt made her giggle, but instead of laughing at me cruelly, she gently guided my fingers.

“No, like this. See? Now it looks like a real flower!”

Her innocence made my chest feel oddly warm.

Later, during snack time, Tao offered me half of his biscuit. “You can have this! It’s yummy!”

I shook my head. “I have my own.”

But he pushed it into my hand anyway. “Friends share food. Now we’re friends!”

Friends. The word echoed in my mind. It felt strange, but not unpleasant.

When it was time to play outside, I sat on a bench, determined not to run around like the others. But Ming came running again. “Come play tag with us!”

“I don’t want to,” I said firmly.

“Please? Just once! If you don’t like it, you can stop.”

I frowned. Those words sounded too familiar—they reminded me of the promise I had made to my brother. With a sigh, I finally agreed.

Before I knew it, I was running, dodging, laughing breathlessly as Ming chased us. My legs ached, my heart pounded, but strangely enough… I was having fun.

When my brother finally arrived to pick me up, I was sitting with Mei and Ming, helping them draw clumsy shapes on paper. He froze in the doorway, staring at me in disbelief.

“Well, well,” he teased with a smirk, “looks like someone’s enjoying themselves after all.”

I quickly crossed my arms, trying to hide my smile. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I was just… testing it out.”

The teacher chuckled softly. “She’s done very well today. She even made some friends.”

My brother raised an eyebrow. “Friends, huh? Didn’t you say you didn’t need any?”

My face turned red. “Shut up!” I snapped, though my lips twitched against my will.

He only laughed and ruffled my hair again. “I’m glad, little sis. Really glad.”

For the first time since my reincarnation, I realized that maybe… just maybe… I could let myself be a child, even if only for a little while.

The car rolled to a gentle stop at the front gates of our estate. My heart, strangely lighter than it had been in a long time, beat with excitement. The moment the car door opened, I jumped out, my little shoes pattering against the stone path as I bolted toward the familiar figures waiting near the entrance.

“Grandpa! Grandma!” I shouted, my voice clear and bright.

For the first time since I had been reincarnated into this world, I ran toward them not as a detached adult stuck in a child’s body, but as the child I appeared to be.

My grandparents froze, eyes wide in astonishment. They had seen me that very morning — withdrawn, serious, far too mature for my years. But the little girl who now threw herself into their arms was completely different. The me standing before them brimmed with childlike energy, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling.

“Is this… really our granddaughter?” Grandma whispered in disbelief, her hand pressed against her lips.

Grandpa chuckled, though his voice trembled slightly with emotion. “Seems like the heavens finally returned her childhood to her.”

Their stunned expressions quickly melted into joy. I felt the warmth of their embrace, stronger than anything else in the world. My chest swelled with happiness I didn’t know I was capable of anymore.

I tugged at Grandpa’s sleeve, trying to clamber up onto his lap. But before I could manage with my little arms and legs, he scooped me up effortlessly, placing me securely on his knees.

“There we go,” he said with a laugh, bouncing me slightly. “My little princess belongs right here.”

My heart soared. No matter how much maturity I carried inside me, moments like this made me want to melt into the role of a true child.

Grandma sat beside us, her face glowing with affection. “Now tell us, darling, how was your first day at kindergarten?”

At once, three pairs of eyes — Grandpa’s, Grandma’s, and even my brother’s, who had just stepped in behind me — turned expectantly in my direction.

I grinned, swinging my short legs. “It was… fun! Really fun. I made three new friends today — Ming, Mei, and Tao! We built castles with blocks, and then we played tag outside. They even shared their biscuits with me. Kindergarten is… good!”

The pride in their eyes made me puff out my chest.

“Three friends in one day? That’s wonderful!” Grandma exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “See, didn’t we tell you it would be good for you?”

Grandpa stroked his beard, smiling with satisfaction. “Our little one isn’t just smart, she’s also popular already.”

Even my brother’s expression softened for a moment. “Told you so,” he said smugly, though his eyes danced with mischief.

But then, a wicked thought crossed my mind. A slow, devilish grin spread across my lips as I leaned closer to my grandparents.

“Grandpa, Grandma,” I whispered dramatically, “do you know what Brother did today? He… he made fun of me in front of everyone at kindergarten!”

My brother froze. His confident smirk vanished in an instant.

“W–what?!” he stammered, eyes wide. “I did not! She’s twisting the truth again!”

Grandpa’s brows knitted together, his voice stern. “What exactly happened?”

I put on my most pitiful face, widening my eyes to shimmer with unshed tears. “He laughed at me and even pretended to be scared of me when I glared at him! Everyone saw! It was so embarrassing…”

Grandma gasped. “How could you tease your little sister like that, in front of strangers no less?”

“It was just a joke!” my brother protested desperately, waving his arms. “She’s exaggerating, as always!”

But my grandparents were already glaring at him.

“Don’t you dare make your sister feel small,” Grandma scolded, her voice sharp despite her usual gentle nature. “She finally opened her heart today, and you mock her? Shame on you!”

“Yes,” Grandpa added firmly, his tone carrying finality. “A brother should protect, not ridicule.”

My brother looked as if he wanted to sink into the floor. He knew resistance was futile.

I, meanwhile, sat in Grandpa’s lap with a victorious smirk, watching the scene unfold. Checkmate.

Of course, I knew it was all in good fun. My grandparents were fully aware of my brother’s antics and my playful tattling, but they indulged me anyway. Still, the look of defeat on my brother’s face was priceless.

“Hmph!” I stuck out my tongue at him. “That’s what you get for making fun of me!”

“You little devil,” he muttered under his breath, but I caught the reluctant smile tugging at his lips.

I couldn’t help but laugh — a genuine, carefree laugh. For once, it felt good to play the part of the pampered youngest child, the favorite of both the Wei and Mei families.

Then, before my brother could retaliate, I hopped off Grandpa’s lap and ran toward my room, where my nanny was already preparing warm bathwater.

My nanny greeted me with her usual gentle smile. “Young miss, you seem very happy today.”

“I am!” I replied cheerfully, letting her guide me to the tub. As she washed my hair, I chattered nonstop about my day — the games, the friends, the silly faces Brother made.

After my bath, wrapped in soft pajamas, I felt refreshed. I immediately picked up the phone and dialed my other grandparents and uncle.

“Grandpa, Grandma, Uncle!” I greeted excitedly when they answered. “Guess what? I went to kindergarten today, and it was fun! I made three friends!”

Their delighted laughter and praise filled the line, warming me from the inside out. I talked animatedly, repeating every detail as if they had been there themselves.

That evening, just as always, my parents called. The moment I heard their voices, a lump formed in my throat. Even though they weren’t physically with me, their concern and love always reached across the distance.

“Sweetheart, how was your day?” my mother asked gently.

“It was good, Mama! I went to kindergarten and made friends. You don’t need to worry about me, okay?” I replied, my voice bright though my heart ached with longing.

My father chuckled softly. “Our brave little one. We’re proud of you. Remember, no matter where we are, we’re always thinking of you.”

I pressed the receiver close to my ear, whispering, “I know. I miss you. But I’ll be fine. Everyone here takes care of me.”

After the call ended, I sat quietly for a while, hugging my pillow. My chest ached with the strange mixture of longing and contentment.

That night, as I lay in bed, I thought about the day. Just that morning, I had dreaded kindergarten, certain I would never fit in. But somehow, against all expectations, I had laughed, played, and even tattled like an ordinary child.

Maybe… maybe this was what I needed.

For the first time since my reincarnation, I felt at peace with my new life. I was still me — an adult in thoughts — but perhaps it wasn’t so bad to live as a child again. Surrounded by my loving family, with friends waiting for me at school, maybe this second chance at childhood could be something beautiful after all.