Lin Xiaoxiao couldn’t help but wish for some overlap between the two worlds, but after all this time, it was clear there was none.

Eventually, the family discussed what gifts to bring to the Zhou household—something to show respect without being overly formal.

Lin Wenbin sighed, feeling it was all too complicated. “Wouldn’t it have been easier if you’d come into this world the same way we did—all at once?”

Xiaoxiao frowned. She would have preferred to have her own body too, but soul transmigration wasn’t something she could control. “Are you saying I’m a burden?”

“No, that’s not it,” Wenbin quickly clarified. “It’s just… we’re stuck maintaining this lie, making up excuses. What if someone finds out—especially Zhou Huai’an? What will you do then?”

Xiaoxiao fell silent. She didn’t have an answer. If that day ever came, maybe she’d just tell the truth.

…

Lin Zihao’s parents arrived in Beijing the day before New Year’s. Zhou Huai’an met them at the station and brought them home.

Lin Xiaoxiao happened to be off duty that day. She had been helping Zhou Liyun and the housekeeper prepare the next day’s meals and tidy the house.

The sudden arrival of Zihao’s parents threw their plans into disarray, and they quickly shifted to preparing lunch and welcoming the guests.

Li Yunlan had met Zihao’s father, Lin Jiansen, before and found him polite and mild-mannered. She gently urged Zihao, “Your parents are here. Be polite now—don’t ignore them or act out. They’ve been worried about you.”

But Zihao, with his seven-year-old reasoning, was anything but foolish. “Then why didn’t they come see me before? Why do I live with you? They must not care about me.”

Li Yunlan felt like she was reasoning with a brick wall. “They didn’t know you were hurt. They came as soon as they found out.”

Zihao stayed upset, his face set in a stubborn scowl. Mostly, he was afraid of being taken away from the Zhou family.

When Zhou Huai’an returned with Lin Jiansen and his wife Liu Jinyun, the couple rushed toward their son on the sofa without even pausing to greet Li Yunlan.

Lin Jiansen frowned deeply. “How did this happen?”

Liu Jinyun’s eyes welled with tears as she took Zihao’s hand. “Zihao, do you remember me?”

Zihao eyed the strangers coldly, disliking their touch. He turned his face away.

Lin Xiaoxiao stood to the side, holding her daughter. It was her first time seeing Lin Jiansen—a refined and gentle man. Liu Jinyun had the delicate elegance of a Shanghainese woman, every hair perfectly in place, swept into a neat bun.

Even after a long train journey, she looked composed, her speech soft and melodic.

Through tears, Liu Jinyun asked her son if he remembered her, expressing her heartbreak as she dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.

Lin Jiansen finally collected himself and turned to Li Yunlan. “We’re so sorry for the trouble. We had no idea this had happened. Zihao must have been a burden.”

Li Yunlan waved it off warmly. “Not at all. He’s like one of our own. How could we not take care of him?”

But Zihao had had enough. He stood up abruptly. “I don’t want to sit with you! You’re not good people!”

He stormed off to find Zhou Xiaoling, grabbing her hand. “Jiejie, let’s play checkers. I don’t want to talk to them. That woman is bad.”

Liu Jinyun froze, tears hanging in her eyes, stunned into silence.

Zhou Xiaoling frowned. “Don’t be rude. Sit down and behave.”

Zihao obediently muttered, “Okay,” and stayed close to her, refusing to go near his parents.

Li Yunlan quickly tried to smooth things over. “Please don’t take it to heart. He’s like a child now, and you’re still strangers to him.”

Liu Jinyun wiped her tears. “It’s alright. I don’t blame him. It just hurts that he really doesn’t remember us.”

Lin Jiansen watched grimly. The situation was more serious than he’d imagined.

He had already asked Zhou Huai’an for details about Zihao’s condition on the way over. Now it was clear—Zihao might not even be willing to return to Shanghai with them.

He sighed. “We didn’t expect things to turn out like this. We’re grateful for your care. We’ll take it slow.”

After crying a while longer, Liu Jinyun composed herself. “May I have some time alone with Zihao?”

Li Yunlan agreed. Perhaps some one-on-one time would stir something in him. After all, blood ties ran deep.

Zhou Xiaoling brought Zihao to the study. Liu Jinyun followed, still dabbing her eyes.

Xiaoling sternly told Zihao to stay in the room, or she wouldn’t speak to him again.

Sullen, Zihao sat in a chair. As soon as Xiaoling left and closed the door, he glared at Liu Jinyun with pure, childish resentment.

But as soon as they were alone, Liu Jinyun’s demeanor shifted. She dried her tears calmly, studying Zihao with a cool detachment, as if testing whether he was truly as impaired as they said.

After a long silence, she asked plainly, “You really remember nothing? Not even me?”

Zihao turned his head away proudly.

Liu Jinyun gave a bitter laugh. “How convenient for you. No memories, no obligations. You don’t even remember Zhuang Jing, do you?”

Zihao remained silent, glaring at her with unmistakable hatred.

Finally convinced, Liu Jinyun smiled coldly. “Maybe it’s better this way. I never should have given birth to you. You’ve been my greatest regret—a stain on my life.”

She began to cry again, but this time her tears held a different tone. “Look at you now, Lin Zihao. All that effort, all that ambition… and you end up a fool.”

She went on, murmuring and weeping until Zihao grew agitated. He stood up abruptly. “I want to leave! I hate you!”

Liu Jinyun cried and laughed at once. “Yes, you hate me. You hate that I pushed you to marry, to live the life I chose. But it was all for your own good. Who knew you’d end up like this?”