After exchanging greetings, the two fell into a brief silence.
Chen Mo had countless questions he wanted to ask, but now that Ji Nian was standing before him like this, he found himself at a loss for words.
He even felt a pang of uncertainty—would they still maintain the same familial closeness as before? Would she distance herself from him because of this matter?
But no matter what, he had to face it now.
After a moment of contemplation, Chen Mo spoke up, "You still remember your past life, don’t you?"
Ji Nian nodded without hesitation. "Yes."
"...No wonder."
He murmured under his breath.
"I should have realized it sooner. Who else could have so effortlessly created an antidote but you?"
Naturally, it could only be the creator of the poison herself.
"I’m sorry… I knew you didn’t allow your poisons to be leaked, yet I still brought them here."
Ji Nian shook her head but said nothing.
Even after revealing their identities, an unfamiliarity lingered between them.
After all, the one Ji Nian was familiar with was the mute rabbit.
And the person Chen Mo knew wasn’t the exquisitely beautiful girl before him, but the cold-faced researcher who used to talk one-sidedly to a rabbit.
"Then… why did you come to this world?"
This was what puzzled Chen Mo the most.
If she hadn’t actually appeared before him, he would have dismissed that strange encounter as a dream.
Remembering how he had once described the incident to Ji Nian as if it were a dream, Chen Mo felt a twinge of embarrassment.
But it wasn’t as overwhelming as when he first found out and needed space to process it.
What had already happened was beyond changing.
[Host, you can’t reveal this.]
Ji Nian understood, so she replied, "I don’t know. I just woke up here one day."
Chen Mo interlaced his fingers and leaned slightly forward. "Did your body in the original world… pass away?"
Ji Nian shook her head again.
This time, she genuinely didn’t know.
Chen Mo rubbed his forehead and let out a soft, rueful laugh.
"Nian Nian, how are we supposed to interact from now on?"
Who would have thought that uncovering the truth about the Ji family’s legendary pharmacist would lead to this?
Thinking back to how Ji Nian had been crafting antidotes to save lives since she was five years old…
Ji Tingzhou must have been shocked.
Ah, right.
He suddenly looked up, his gaze fixed on Ji Nian. "Does Ji Tingzhou know about this?"
He was referring to the fact that Ji Nian came from another world.
"Dad doesn’t know."
A faint smile tugged at Chen Mo’s lips.
That was good.
In other words, he was the only one who knew this secret.
A sense of superiority replaced his earlier awkwardness.
Ji Nian found it a bit exasperating. "Uncle, don’t you get tired of competing with Dad all these years?"
Chen Mo smirked. "What’s tiring about it?"
Was there anything more entertaining than watching Ji Tingzhou lose his composure?
The atmosphere noticeably lightened at this topic.
Ji Nian softened her expression and said, "So, Uncle, our relationship won’t change."
"Are you going to deny our destined family bond just because of what happened before?"
Chen Mo instinctively retorted, "Of course not."
No matter how deeply the researcher had left an impression on him, it couldn’t compare to the years he had spent with Ji Nian.
He had watched her grow up, knew her likes and dislikes, her talents, her favorite foods.
She was the continuation of his sister’s life.
"You’re right. I’ve really been wasting all these years," he admitted with a bitter chuckle.
Then it dawned on him—Ji Nian had also lived all those years.
Fortunately, Ji Nian didn’t dwell on it. She took a sip of the perfectly brewed floral tea to soothe her throat.
"I’ve lived in this world for seventeen years now. In a way, I’ve been raised all over again, so my personality is bound to be different from before."
Well, at least when she wasn’t in the lab.
"Just think of what happened before as me practicing filial piety in advance, Mo Mo."
Chen Mo, who had once been subjected to daily cleanups by Ji Nian: "……"
For some reason, he suddenly found himself agreeing with Ji Tingzhou’s philosophy of "ending things before losing the ability to care for oneself."
"Alright, Uncle, it’s getting late. I’m going to bed."
Ji Nian yawned, clearly exhausted.
She had spent the day saving lives and performing—it had been a long day.
Chen Mo urged her to rest.
But just as Ji Nian stood up, another thought struck him, and his expression turned odd. He hesitated, as if debating whether to speak.
Noticing his look, Ji Nian paused. "Is there something else you want to ask?"
Chen Mo’s gaze flickered away briefly.
"Nian Nian…"
"Do you still… research how to turn hemorrhoids into rabbit tails?"
He took a deep breath.
Back in the day, he had nearly become one of the unfortunate rabbits in her experimental army.
Ji Nian blinked, then slowly grinned.
"Oh, that?"
"Guess."
With a mysterious smile, she hummed a tune and walked away.
Chen Mo: "……"
That definitely meant she was still doing it.
Watching her retreating figure, Chen Mo exhaled slowly.
After their conversation, the earlier awkwardness had mostly dissipated.
Ji Nian was right—their past experiences only proved that they were fated to be family. He had simply gotten a preview of his future niece’s past life.
Thinking about it this way, he even felt a sense of gratitude.
Whoever was responsible, thank you for bringing Ji Nian into our lives.
As he cleared the teacups, another thought suddenly occurred to him.
"I forgot to ask Nian Nian what happened after I left."
After getting used to being a rabbit, he had abruptly returned to his original body, but the details of what happened in between were hazy.
"Ah well, there’ll be other chances to find out."
Chen Mo smiled unconsciously.
Heh.
His Nian Nian was a pharmaceutical genius.
...
The next morning, Ji Nian woke up to the news that their performance from the day before had been filmed and uploaded online.
Somehow, the video had gone viral.
"Do you have to be good-looking to join your band?"
"Please drop the lead singer’s socials—she’s so gorgeous, wuuu."
"High schoolers shouldn’t be allowed to form bands… because working adults will die of envy."
"…She looks so sweet and innocent, but she plays the bass? What a contrast."
"I’m an international student from Country O. Never thought I’d see our little princess outside our homeland, wuuuuu. Voting, right? Your Highness, wait for me—my aunts and uncles haven’t heard from you in ages."
Reading the last comment, Ji Nian felt a sinking premonition.
Remembering that the voting results should have been finalized by now, she quickly switched to check the outcome.
Well, no need—Shen Qingtang had already posted it in the group chat.
Shen Qingtang: "……Wasn’t our goal to come in second? Where did these 90 million votes come from???"
The second-place Class 3’s singing-and-dancing performance had only gotten three thousand votes.
The Calf Band had won by a landslide.
They weren’t just first—they could have debuted as an idol group with those numbers.
Ji Nian was equally stunned.
Shortly after, Lu Jinghuai sent a message: "My apologies… this is my fault."
He attached a screenshot.
It was from Country O’s social media—their video had skyrocketed to the top of the trending list, with the hashtag exploding.
The citizens of Country O, overjoyed at the rare sight of their little princess, had scaled the Great Firewall overnight to vote for her.
The people of Country O didn’t understand—they simply kept silently reposting VPN registration tutorials, urging everyone to go vote.
The company behind vX was also stunned.
How had their app suddenly topped the download charts in Country O overnight?
Of course, where there were many who adored him, there were bound to be a few overly passionate fans.
They posted angrily, demanding to know who had pierced their young prince’s ears, pointing out flaws in his outfits, and even some went so far as to bypass the firewall to condemn S High School’s official account.
Others attacked the band members, accusing them of corrupting Lu Jinghuai.
Lu Jinghuai scrolled through the messages, his expression cold as he dialed a contact to suppress the trending topics. He also reached out to relevant personnel in China to have the accounts of those Country O netizens—who attacked others without reason—suspended.
For some, it was joy; for others, frustration.
What Ji Nian didn’t know was that the 90 million wasn’t solely contributed by the citizens of Country O.
Among them was also the handiwork of a certain someone surnamed Wei.
Ms. Li watched the person across from her leisurely enjoying lunch and chuckled. “What made you change your mind?”
Wei Junze set down his chopsticks, lifting his gaze with a lazy smirk. “Love at first sight, perhaps.”
Growing up is just a series of contradictions.
Not long ago, Wei Junze would never have imagined that now he’d not only lost interest in the wild type but had also fallen for the gentle one.
“Understood. I’ll arrange a dinner for you two in a few days.”
