Night fell softly over the city.

  Lights bloomed one by one along the riverbank, their reflections trembling on the water like broken stars.

  Zhuqing adjusted the collar of her coat as she stepped out of the taxi, her gaze lifting briefly to the discreet plaque beside the entrance. No name. No menu. Only a single symbol etched into metal—recognizable only to those who belonged.

  A private restaurant.

  Not a place for indulgence—

  but a place for truths that could not exist elsewhere.

  She arrived first.

  The private room was shielded from sound, scent, and surveillance. Thick curtains muffled the city beyond the walls. Zhuqing took her seat without comment. She didn’t check her phone.

  She waited.

  The door opened exactly seven minutes later.

  Asmodius Shaw entered without escort, his movements unhurried, his eyes sharp with habitual awareness. He closed the door himself and locked it with a soft click.

  “You’re punctual,” he noted as he took the seat across from her.

  “So are you,” Zhuqing replied.

  A faint curve touched his lips.

  He skipped pleasantries. Instead, he placed a slim document case on the table and pushed it toward her.

  “You asked for information about your mother,” he said. “This is everything we could confirm.”

  Zhuqing didn’t open it immediately.

  She waited.

  Asmodius studied her for a moment before continuing.

  “Song Mengran,” he said quietly. “Your mother.”

  Zhuqing’s fingers stilled.

  “She was a physician,” Asmodius continued. “Not hospital-affiliated. Independent. Extremely well-connected.”

  “She belonged to the Song family,” he went on. “Not a merchant branch. Not a political offshoot. A custodial bloodline.”

  Zhuqing’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Custodial of what?”

  “Knowledge,” Asmodius replied. “Medical knowledge that predates modern classification. Some of it… doesn’t conform to current science.”

  He opened the case and spread its contents across the table.

  Documents.

  Photographs.

  Seals.

  Zhuqing’s breathing slowed as she took them in.

  Wow. This body’s mother has a terrifying background.

  This is my first world, and I’m already nervous—but still… wow.

  “The Song family didn’t hoard wealth in the traditional sense,” Asmodius said. “They collected texts. Techniques. Case histories. Experimental records.”

  “How many?” Zhuqing asked.

  “As of the last confirmed inventory,” he replied, “over five thousand volumes. Some complete. Some fragmented. Some written in scripts that no longer officially exist.”

  Zhuqing looked up sharply.

  “Where are they now?”

  “Scattered,” he said. “Deliberately.”

  He slid three additional folders toward her.

  “The Rothschild family holds a portion—purely archival, no interference. The Seekers Association safeguards another share. They’re obsessive about preservation.”

  “And the rest?” Zhuqing asked.

  Asmodius paused.

  “Russian families,” he said. “Old ones. The kind that survived regime changes by never standing too close to power. Your mother entrusted them personally.”

  Zhuqing’s grip tightened imperceptibly.

  “She knew she wouldn’t live long,” Asmodius continued. “She prepared for that.”

  “Why not leave everything to me directly?” Zhuqing asked.

  “Because you were a child,” he replied evenly. “And because she knew your father.”

  Silence stretched between them.

  “She married him believing he loved her,” Asmodius said calmly. “He pursued her aggressively. Admired her skills. Her connections.”

  “And her background,” Zhuqing said flatly.

  “Yes.”

  She closed her eyes briefly.

  “When did she find out?” Zhuqing asked.

  “When she became pregnant.”

  “She set conditions,” Asmodius continued. “No relics would be released until her daughter came of age and demonstrated the capacity to protect them.”

  “She discovered Yun Wantang. Discovered your father’s intentions. And she prepared.”

  Zhuqing exhaled slowly.

  That explained everything.

  “So this meeting,” she said, “isn’t because both of us are curious.”

  “No,” Asmodius agreed. “It’s eligibility. An old lawyer—someone my grandfather trusted—came to me when I began investigating your background. He handed me these documents. And a key.”

  He reached into his pocket and placed a small, old-fashioned key on the table.

  “This opens the vault your mother entrusted to my grandfather. He kept it secret, even from the Shaw family.”

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The metal was worn. Warm.

  Real.

  Before Zhuqing could speak, a translucent panel flickered into existence at the corner of her vision.

  Hidden Mission Completed

  Uncover the True Identity of Song Mengran

  Status: Completed

  Asmodius watched her expression carefully.

  “You’re not surprised,” he observed.

  “I suspected,” Zhuqing replied quietly. “But suspicion and confirmation aren’t the same.”

  Wow. Years of novel reading really paid off, she thought.

  I can’t wait to see my rewards after finishing this world. Hopefully something good.

  He nodded.

  “Come,” he said. “You should see what she protected.”

  The vault wasn’t underground.

  It was inside the mountain.

  They passed through layered security—biometric checks, mechanical failsafes older than digital systems. When the final door opened, the scent of aged paper and medicinal herbs flooded the air.

  Zhuqing stopped.

  The space beyond was vast.

  Shelves rose like walls, filled with volumes bound in leather, silk, bamboo—materials she couldn’t immediately identify. Some were sealed in glass. Others rested openly, as if waiting.

  “The Song family collected these across generations,” Asmodius said softly. “Wars. Dynasties. Plagues. Famines.”

  He gestured.

  “Every breakthrough. Every failure.”

  Zhuqing stepped forward slowly, her fingertips brushing the spine of a book.

  “These aren’t just medical records,” she said quietly. “This is wealth capable of toppling entire industries.”

  Asmodius looked at her sharply.

  “You understand.”

  “My mother must have,” Zhuqing murmured. “That’s why she left me only money on the surface.”

  She closed her eyes briefly.

  So this is what you were guarding.

  Not money. Not revenge.

  But knowledge.

  Zhuqing returned home in a lighter mood, already planning her next steps.

  Yun Wantang noticed the change immediately.

  Zhuqing moved differently now—not busier, not louder. Just… anchored.

  “You’ve been going out often,” Yun Wantang remarked one afternoon while stirring her tea. “Meeting people from the Shaw family?”

  Zhuqing nodded. “They’re strict.”

  Yun Wantang smiled. “Naturally. A family like theirs values tradition.”

  “And preparation,” Zhuqing added.

  “Of course,” Yun Wantang replied smoothly. “You must be under pressure.”

  “Not really,” Zhuqing said. “I enjoy knowing my place.”

  The words landed strangely.

  Yun Wantang’s smile stiffened.

  “You’re very composed for your age,” she said. “Almost… detached.”

  Zhuqing met her gaze.

  “I learned early,” she said evenly, “that emotions complicate survival.”

  Yun Wantang laughed lightly, but her fingers tightened around the cup.

  “Yes,” she said. “They do.”

  Liu Mengmeng brought Jason home on a Sunday.

  He stood beside her, nervous but upright, while his mother scanned the living room with poorly concealed judgment.

  “This is Jason,” Liu Mengmeng announced brightly. “I told you about him.”

  Mr. Liu nodded curtly.

  Yun Wantang smiled thinly. “We’ve heard… something.”

  Jason bowed slightly. “Uncle. Auntie. I may not have much now, but I’ll work hard.”

  “I believe in him,” Liu Mengmeng said quickly. “He has potential. He’ll succeed.”

  Her parents exchanged a glance.

  Potential.

  Such a fragile word.

  “Well,” Yun Wantang said after a pause, “ambition is important.”

  Jason’s mother snorted. “He doesn’t need your approval. My son is capable.”

  Mr. Liu’s expression darkened, but he said nothing.

  They tolerated.

  For now.

  Inside, Liu Mengmeng’s thoughts raced.

  They don’t understand.

  They never do.

  In the future, Jason will rise. I remember it clearly.

  Zhuqing changed a liitle. That’s all. It’ll fix itself.

  It had to.

  Jason sat stiffly, hands clasped.

  Mengmeng is defending me, he thought, warmth spreading through his chest. She believes in me.

  No one ever had before.

  If enduring this humiliation was the price—

  He’d pay it.

  Zhuqing arrived midway through the tension.

  She took in the scene in one glance.

  Jason.

  The mother.

  The familiar edge of entitlement.

  Her lips curved faintly.

  She remembered liu zhuqing's past life.

  The way his mother nitpicked.

  The way she demanded.

  The way she broke people slowly.

  Enjoy your choice, Mengmeng, Zhuqing thought calmly. I hope you survive it.

  That night, Zhuqing knocked on the door of her father’s study.

  The sound was soft. Measured. Not urgent.

  “Come in,” Mr. Liu said without looking up, eyes still fixed on the documents spread across his desk.

  Zhuqing entered quietly and closed the door behind her. The study smelled faintly of tobacco and polished wood—power, habit, and control. She stood there for a moment, hands folded, posture respectful but not submissive.

  Mr. Liu glanced up, mildly surprised. “It’s late. What is it?”

  Zhuqing hesitated—just enough to look uncertain.

  “I wasn’t sure if I should say anything,” she began softly. “But… I don’t think I can keep this to myself.”

  That caught his attention.

  He set his pen down. “Speak.”

  Zhuqing walked closer, stopping at the edge of the desk, careful not to cross an invisible boundary.

  “It’s about the Shaw family,” she said quietly.

  Mr. Liu’s expression tightened immediately.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “They didn’t say it directly,” Zhuqing replied, eyes lowered. “But I could tell… they’re dissatisfied.”

  “With what?” His voice sharpened.

  “With us,” she said simply.

  Silence fell.

  Zhuqing continued before he could interrupt.

  “They’re old money,” she said. “And very traditional. They believe marriage is not just between individuals—but between families. They’ve been… evaluating.”

  Mr. Liu frowned. “Evaluating what?”

  “Our sincerity,” Zhuqing answered.

  She finally looked up at him then, her expression conflicted, almost embarrassed.

  “They feel that the Liu family is benefiting too much from this engagement… without offering enough in return.”

  Mr. Liu’s jaw tightened.

  “What exactly did they say?”

  Zhuqing shook her head. “They didn’t insult us openly. But their tone…” She paused. “They compared dowries. Casually. As if it were an afterthought.”

  Her fingers clenched lightly at her sides.

  “They mentioned how some families prepare substantial assets—not for show, but as proof of respect.”

  Mr. Liu leaned back slowly, eyes darkening.

  “How much?” he asked.

  Zhuqing hesitated again. This time longer.

  When she finally spoke, she named the number.

  Mr. Liu’s brows knit together. It was not a small sum. Not something given lightly.

  “That’s excessive,” he said.

  “Yes,” Zhuqing agreed immediately. “That’s why I didn’t want to trouble you.”

  She took a step back, as if preparing to leave.

  “I can handle it,” she said softly. “If they think the Liu family is lacking, I can endure it. I don’t want Father to feel pressured.”

  The words were perfect.

  Filial.

  Self-sacrificing.

  Non-threatening.

  Mr. Liu stared at her.

  For the first time in a long while, he saw not a quiet, forgettable daughter—but a political asset standing at the edge of a precarious alliance.

  “This engagement,” he said slowly, “cannot afford instability.”

  Zhuqing said nothing.

  “If the Shaw family looks down on us,” he continued, “it affects more than just you.”

  Still silence.

  Finally, he exhaled.

  “I’ll arrange it,” he said. “Consider it… necessary preparation.”

  Zhuqing’s shoulders relaxed slightly, as if relieved.

  “Thank you, Father,” she said, bowing her head. “I know this is difficult.”

  Mr. Liu waved a hand. “You’re marrying into the Shaw family. This is an investment.”

  “Yes,” Zhuqing replied calmly.

  An investment.

  Exactly.

  As she turned to leave, Mr. Liu spoke again.

  “Zhuqing.”

  She paused.

  “Don’t let them think we’re easy to suppress,” he said quietly. “You represent the Liu family now.”

  Zhuqing turned back and smiled faintly. well with him scammed the family cycle is done once

  “I won’t,” she said.

  When the door closed behind her, Mr. Liu sat in silence for a long time.

  He told himself this was for the family.

  Later, alone in her room.......She sat at the edge of the bed and finally allowed herself to relax.

  “System panel,” she said softly.

  The air in front of her rippled.

  A translucent interface unfolded, layers of pale blue light stacking neatly into place. Unlike the crude beginner panels most hosts started with, hers was already refined—clean lines, restrained design, efficient.

  [System Interface — Host Status]

  Host Name: Zhuqing Bones

  Current Identity: Liu Zhuqing

  Intelligence: 78

  Strength: 52

  Agility: 60

  Endurance: 55

  Appearance: 81

  Charm: 69

  Willpower: 88

  Luck: 41

  Skills: None

  Talents: None

  Golden Fingers: The Culinarist’s Eye

  Items:

  ? Golden Finger Draw ×1

  Worlds Traveled: 0

  Active Missions:

  ? Change Yunyun’s Fate (In progress)

  ? Revenge Against Stepmother Yun Wantang (Incomplete)

  ? Revenge Against Stepsister Liu Mengmeng (Incomplete)

  Hidden Missions :

  ? Uncover the True Identity of Song Mengran (Completed)

  The panel dimmed.

  Zhuqing closed her eyes.

  Food golden finger.

  Medical inheritance.

  Money. Power. Timing.

  “This world,” she thought calmly,

  “I hope to finish the missions early—

  and actually enjoy life here.”

  Sleep claimed her gently.