"Miss, miss? Wake up."
Ji Nian was roused by the voice calling her.
She blinked awake, taking a moment to adjust. Instead of the dim, leaky tin roof she expected, she saw the familiar ceiling of her own room.
This was home.
[Am I back?]
System: [? What do you mean ‘back’?]
Hearing the system’s voice again, Ji Nian felt a wave of nostalgia.
"Young Mistress, you’re finally awake," Hong Guo sighed in relief.
Lately, Ji Nian had been sleeping so deeply that even her pink-headed turtle plush couldn’t wake her. So she’d specifically instructed Hong Guo to come get her if she wasn’t up by a certain time.
Ji Nian studied her for a moment before slowly smiling. "It’s so good to see you."
"Is Dad up yet?"
It came back to her—Ji Tingzhou’s birthday was approaching. She’d been busy preparing a gift for him.
Ji Tingzhou disliked celebrating his birthday, but because Ji Nian insisted on giving him presents, he’d grown tolerant enough over the years to eat Zhiliao’s longevity noodles without flinching.
"Not yet."
Ji Nian had guessed as much. Her father was a notorious late sleeper.
The image of a scowling little Ji Tingzhou digging through old clothes for her flashed in her mind, and she couldn’t help but chuckle.
Maybe it had all just been an unusually vivid dream.
After all, aside from her memories, there was no proof she’d actually lived through that past.
After washing up and changing, Ji Nian headed downstairs for breakfast.
When she saw Zhiliao, her gaze lingered briefly on the scar across her face before she calmly walked over and hugged her.
"Zhiliao-jie."
Zhiliao, caught off guard but accustomed to such affection, pulled the girl close and patted her back. "Mm."
Ji Nian looked up at her.
Same as always—dark hair, plain clothes, a serene and delicate face.
Yet she couldn’t help recalling the little girl who’d mutilated her own face to survive, who’d endured violence with unyielding resilience.
"Zhiliao-jie, do you like your life now?"
Zhiliao didn’t question why Ji Nian asked.
"I do."
Back then, she hadn’t known what it meant to like something, nor had she the luxury to wonder. But now, she could say those words without hesitation.
Born in the poorest, most violent slums, she’d grown up with blood on her hands, living day to day in danger and chaos.
Honestly, she missed it sometimes. But having experienced it, she cherished the peace of having family by her side all the more.
Ji Nian seemed pleased with her answer.
Maybe that was why, during breakfast, everyone watched in amazement as Ji Nian devoured her meal at record speed—even the decorative mint leaves weren’t spared.
They assumed she was just extra hungry today.
Little did they know, in Ji Nian’s mind, it had been nearly a year since she’d last tasted home-cooked food.
[This is real food! This is what humans eat!!]
She was so moved she could’ve cried.
It was Saturday, so no work. While waiting for Ji Tingzhou to wake, Ji Nian grabbed her gardening tools to trim the flower beds.
She’d barely started when a shadow fell over her.
Hearing footsteps earlier, she’d assumed it was a gardener and waited for them to approach before greeting them.
But before she could speak, a deep, warm, and oddly familiar voice chimed in: "Well, well, if it isn’t our diligent little Ji Nian."
The voice was completely unfamiliar—yet the tone was as if they’d known each other for years.
If not for the fact that she was the only "Ji Nian" around, she might’ve asked if he had the wrong person.
She turned, bewildered.
A man in a dark suit stood behind her, slightly bent to look at her. His hair was neatly gelled, his features handsome and mature. He smiled down at her, eyes crinkling.
Ji Nian’s pruning shears clattered to the ground.
She gaped at him.
The dusty but bright face from her memories—the one that lit up when he earned money, the one that turned serious while studying—overlapped with the man before her.
Shen Rushan.
Not the Shen Rushan from the gravestone’s black-and-white photo, but an even older, more alive version.
In an instant, a flood of unfamiliar memories surged into her mind.
Her first meeting with Shen Qingtang hadn’t been when Ji Nian was adopted by the Ji family.
It was when she was five. Shen Rushan, injured while protecting Ji Tingzhou, had his wife fall ill from worry. Afraid their young daughter would be scared alone, they sent her to stay with the Ji family for a few days.
Ji Nian had taken the teary-eyed Shen Qingtang’s hand, patting her head and promising she wouldn’t be alone.
Shen Qingtang had adored Ji Nian from the start, following her everywhere—so much so that Shen Rushan often joked it reminded him of his younger self trailing after Ji Tingzhou.
Later, Ji Nian realized Shen Rushan had been part of many events she remembered—and some new ones too.
Like Shen Rushan carrying both her and Shen Qingtang to the amusement park, only to return with arms so sore he couldn’t lift them. Ji Tingzhou had laughed but still called in masseurs to help.
Or Shen Qingtang’s mother—a frail woman prone to mood swings but gentle with children, who loved telling stories to Ji Nian and Shen Qingtang while holding them close.
Strangely, Shen Rushan and Chen Mo got along well—because Chen Mo had helped him find his parents.
Shen Rushan had only meant to tease the girl (even if she was now up to his shoulders). But when Ji Nian turned around, looking as if she’d seen a ghost, her wide eyes—so like Ji Tingzhou’s—staring in shock, she suddenly fainted.
"Qingtang! Get over here!"
He caught Ji Nian, calling for his daughter.
Shen Qingtang rushed over, took one look, and without a word, scooped Ji Nian up in a princess carry, sprinting back to the house.
Watching her dash off, Shen Rushan could only sigh.
No idea where she got that athleticism. Neither he nor her mother were the sporty type.
"Ji Tingzhou, wake up! Your daughter passed out!"
Shen Rushan barged into Ji Tingzhou’s room.
Ji Tingzhou pried his eyes open.
"Huh?"
"If she fell in the toilet, just fish her out."
Shen Rushan: "……"
After a pause, Ji Tingzhou processed the words and sat up, his finely groomed brows furrowing.
"She fainted?"
He got out of bed.
"Hey—your slippers!"
Ji Nian came to quickly. The doctor found nothing wrong, so she brushed it off with a few words and sent them away.
"Really fine? I heard you ate a lot this morning. Was it too much?"
"Feel nauseous?"
Ji Nian shook her head.
She was still in a state of disbelief.
After all, she had thought it was all a dream, but now… Shen Rushan had actually survived.
However, judging by Zhiliao’s reaction earlier, it seemed she had no recollection of the childhood memories involving her, which had initially put Ji Nian at ease. But then, out of nowhere, Shen Rushan suddenly appeared, startling her all over again.
When Ji Tingzhou arrived, he was still wearing his pajamas.
"How is she?"
He gently patted the child’s head.
The doctor had been called away by Ji Nian, so Shen Qingtang took over explaining that no abnormalities had been found.
Ji Nian stared straight at Ji Tingzhou and abruptly said, "Dad, I want instant noodles."
Ji Tingzhou frowned. "Did you hit your head? Now you’re craving junk food?"
Ji Nian huffed twice in response.
Who was it that used to drool over beef-flavored instant noodles as a kid, licking the bowl cleaner than his own face?
"And now you’re huffing at me?" Ji Tingzhou grumbled, poking her forehead disapprovingly.
Shen Rushan chimed in sympathetically, "Be gentle. She just woke up—don’t poke her head like that."
Shen Qingtang nodded vigorously in agreement, reaching over to soothingly stroke Ji Nian’s forehead.
Watching this united front of father and daughter, Ji Tingzhou snorted in exasperation.
"You used to love instant noodles too when you were little, Dad. People shouldn’t forget their roots," Ji Nian muttered under her breath.
"Who told you that?"
"Zhiliao did."
Shen Rushan thought for a moment. "I think there was a time like that—way back when. Instant noodles were even more expensive than steamed buns then. I remember once we somehow got our hands on a single pack. Wei Yang wasn’t even around yet, so the three of us split it just to taste it. Back then, we swore we’d earn enough money someday to eat instant noodles every day."
His eyes glimmered with nostalgia, his tone wistful.
"Really? I don’t remember," Ji Tingzhou said flatly.
There was no way he’d ever admit to it.
Seeing this, Ji Nian thought to herself… Just as I suspected. For some reason, Shen Rushan had no memory of her at all.
That afternoon, Ji Nian had even pestered Wei Yang for a while, probing for information. After confirming that none of them remembered her, she finally relaxed.
If Ji Tingzhou ever found out I used to call him ‘Zhouzhou’ nonstop when he was little, I’d be done for!
Luckily, it seemed they had no recollection.
Ji Nian didn’t feel disappointed. She simply thought, I don’t know why I went through all this, but the fact that Shen Rushan is alive is more than enough.
Some things were beyond her control—no matter how hard she tried to hint or intervene, she couldn’t change them. At least Shen Rushan had been saved.
Ji Tingzhou watched from upstairs as Ji Nian and Shen Qingtang strolled away, his dark green eyes narrowing slightly.
He reached over and pulled open the drawer beside him.
The box inside had already been opened. At its center lay a single faded red string.
