His consciousness floated within the chaotic currents of time and space. When Qingmu once again “opened his eyes,” he found himself standing before a somewhat aged, yet still imposing, Marquis Residence. He wore a plain suit, the fabric stiff from too much washing, and the chill wind pierced through the thin garment, sending shivers down his spine.
This was the identity he held upon first arriving in this world—a fallen young noble, coming to seek refuge with his fiancée’s family after his own house declined.
The Fengling Family.
He looked up at the family crest carved on the lintel, where bellflowers intertwined with a long sword. A complicated emotion surged in his heart—familiarity tinged with a faint, absurd sense of estrangement.
So, this is where everything began?
[Your name is Qingmu, a fallen noble. Today, you are to marry into the Fengling Family, to become the new head and fiancé of the brave Lady Fengling.
Just as your own house faded away with the wind, everyone in the Fengling Family thinks little of you.]
[Mission Issued: Help the Fengling Family restore their prestige and escape their predicament.
The deadline is six years. The stronger the Fengling Family in six years, the greater the reward.]
The system’s prompt was cold and clear. Help the Fengling Family rise again? Qingmu sneered inwardly. If this were his first experience, he might have racked his brains for a solution, but now, his goal was far beyond that. He would use this chance to “relive” and tug at the threads of fate, correcting those deviations that would lead to future tragedy.
And the first of these was Yue Lan!
“Screeeak—”
The heavy oak doors were opened by an austere-faced Butler, who sized Qingmu up and down, his gaze openly critical and contemptuous.
“Young Master Qingmu?” The Butler’s voice was as stiff as his expression. “Please follow me. The family head is waiting in the main hall.”
Qingmu nodded silently, following the Butler into this manor of memories.
The paintings along the corridor walls had faded, and the carpet looked worn—every detail testified to the decline of this family.
In the main hall, the atmosphere was heavy. Almost all the major members of the Fengling Family were present. At the seat of honor sat a stern-faced, graying middle-aged man—he was the family head, father to Yueqi and Yuelan, bearing the title of Marquis. Beside him sat a noble lady of graceful bearing, but worry creased her brow—Fengling Madam.
On either side were several family elders and collateral relatives, their gazes focusing on Qingmu like searchlights—assessing, skeptical, and even blatantly disdainful.
A fallen young man, to become the fiancé of the Fengling Family’s legitimate daughter, the future hero Yueqi—what luck! But there was no other choice; the Fengling Family was declining, and Yueqi, as the future head, needed a live-in husband to preserve the family.
Qingmu calmly withstood their stares. The unease and anger he once felt when he first arrived had long been ground away by years of hardship and complex experience. His eyes swept across the room, finally resting on the two girls standing beside Fengling Madam.
The taller girl wore a simple, neat knight’s training outfit. Her golden hair was tied in a ponytail. Her features were exquisite, but her aura was cold and determined. Her green eyes were sharp as drawn blades, and when she looked at Qingmu, there was a faint, polite detachment. This was Yueqi, his fiancée in name, the future “hero”—and, in the future, the “vessel” to be replaced.
Behind Yueqi, a small figure hid. It was a little girl of seven or eight, delicate as a porcelain doll, with light golden hair and blue eyes resembling Yueqi’s, yet with an entirely different aura. She timidly peeked out from behind her sister, clutching at Yueqi’s sleeve, her clear blue eyes wide and curious as she stared at Qingmu—Xiaoyue Lan.
Qingmu’s heart tightened. At this moment, she had not yet developed that holy, obsessive madness of the future. She was just a timid, introverted girl—perhaps made sensitive by her family’s misfortunes. Yet this same girl, in the future, would imprison him out of twisted attachment, and through a wrong medicine, render him a vegetable…
Perhaps sensing Qingmu’s gaze, Xiaoyue Lan, like a frightened rabbit, quickly hid her head behind Yueqi again, leaving only a wisp of golden hair visible.
“Qingmu,” the Marquis spoke, his voice low and carrying the authority of a family head, “welcome to the Fengling Family. You should already know about your engagement with our family. Although your own house has fallen, the Fengling Family keeps its promises. Since the engagement was set, we shall honor it. From today, you will live here and study together with Yueqi. I hope you do not let our expectations down.”
His words were courteous enough, but the implication of charity and faint pressure was obvious. He was being “taken in” and needed to prove his worth.
In his previous life, Qingmu might have felt humiliated and sworn to rise above it all. But now, he only bowed slightly, giving a flawless noble salute, his tone steady and calm: “Thank you for taking me in, Marquis. I will remember your kindness and do my best.”
His composure and maturity, beyond his years, surprised a few who had been waiting to see a joke. Olivier Marquis also gave him a second look, nodded slightly, and said nothing more.
The brief welcome ceremony ended amid a somewhat stifling atmosphere. The Butler stepped forward, preparing to lead Qingmu to his arranged guest room.
At that moment, a tiny figure broke free from Yueqi’s hand and ran over to Qingmu, raising her delicate yet timid face, and handed over something she had been tightly clutching in her hand.
It was a freshly picked white flower from the garden, still dewy.
“For…for you…” Xiaoyue Lan’s voice was as soft as a mosquito, her face turning red as if mustering all her courage, “Welcome… to our home…”
The hall fell instantly silent, everyone’s attention drawn to this small interlude. Yueqi frowned slightly, as if she wanted to speak but refrained. The Marquis and Madam exchanged complex looks.
Qingmu looked at the little white flower, a symbol of goodwill and welcome, then at Xiaoyue Lan’s pure, anxious, expectant eyes, and felt a mix of emotions. Was this the beginning of all that would become twisted? Born from a pure, undiluted kindness?
He could not accept this goodwill—not in the way she hoped. From the start, he needed to draw a clear line, to kill any burgeoning, overstepping feelings in their cradle.
Under everyone’s gaze, Qingmu slowly reached out—not to take the flower, but to gently push Xiaoyue Lan’s hand back, his gesture gentle but unyieldingly distant.
He knelt down, making his eyes level with Xiaoyue Lan’s, wearing a warm yet distinctly bounded smile, and spoke with a clear, deliberate tone:
“Thank you, Yuelan—little sister.”
He emphasized the word “little sister.”
“This flower is beautiful, but it should stay in the garden, or…” He paused, glanced toward Yueqi’s cold face, and continued naturally, “be given to your sister, Yueqi. I am your future brother-in-law, after all. From now on, we’re a family, so there’s no need to be so formal.”
“Brother-in-law” and “family”—these words, though gentle, set a boundary of identity.
Xiaoyue Lan’s hand, holding the flower, froze in midair. The hopeful light in her blue eyes dimmed, replaced by confusion and a hint of hurt. She glanced at Qingmu’s warm yet distant smile, then furtively at her expressionless sister, her lips trembling as if about to cry, but she stubbornly held back the tears.
Silently, she withdrew her hand, clutching the little white flower tightly, lowering her head and not looking at Qingmu again.
Yueqi watched the scene, her gaze flickering, but still said nothing.
As for Qingmu, a storm raged in his heart.
Why was Xiaoyue Lan like this on their very first meeting?
The Marquis waved his hand. “Enough, that’s all for now. Butler, take Young Master Qingmu to rest.”
Qingmu stood up, bowed again to the assembly, and followed the Butler out of the hall. He did not look back at Xiaoyue Lan, not even once.
He knew that his action might have wounded the sensitive girl’s heart, but better a short pain than a long one. She had to clearly recognize, from an early age, the relationship between them—brother-in-law and sister-in-law, nothing more. Only this way could he hope to avoid the obsessive, crazed love and captivity of the future.
This was only the first step. In this “reset” simulation world, what he needed to do was far more. He would be like a tiny butterfly, flapping its wings to change the flow of a predetermined, tragedy-laden fate.
And everything had only just begun. He moved into the Fengling Family, as “Yueqi’s fiancé.” The road ahead was still long.