"Xi Lian, breakfast is ready." A sweet voice called from downstairs.
Xi Lian, already familiar with the original owner's memories, didn't flinch at the sudden call. He adjusted his expression, suppressing the natural indifference in his eyes before answering in a timid tone.
"Coming, Aunt."
As he made his way downstairs, his mind remained elsewhere.
"System, you still haven't told me my mission." His voice carried a slight edge of displeasure.
"Host, you've read the plot. You should already know—Minzhe is not the little angel Jun Hao believes him to be. His kindness is nothing more than guilt wrapped in fear. Your main task is to destroy the saintly image Minzhe holds in Jun Hao's heart."
Xi Lian's steps slowed.
"Main task? So there are others?"
"Yes, Host. A side task: to create memories. The original owner led a painfully dull existence, fading into the background of his own life. As compensation for using his body, you may wish to live a little."
"Compensation? So sentimental." Xi Lian thought, unimpressed.
Still, he wasn't opposed to the idea. It wasn't like he had anything better to do.
"And if I fail?" His fingers unconsciously tapped against his wrist, a nervous habit from his past life.
"No physical punishments, Host. But you will remain trapped in this world until you succeed. Again and again… endlessly."
A small shiver ran down Xi Lian's spine.
"No big deal." He muttered.
"Of course, Host. No big deal—for me."
Xi Lian scowled. So systems could be sarcastic, after all.
By the time he reached the dining hall, he had already tucked away his irritation.
The dining table was large, almost unnecessarily so, filled with an array of carefully prepared dishes. The atmosphere was warm and familiar—but only on the surface.
At the head seat, Jun Cheng, a middle-aged man with thinning hair, barely glanced up at him before returning to his meal. His face remained stiff, unreadable. (He's not far from being bald, Xi Lian noted absently.)
To his right sat Jun Xiulan, graceful and elegant as always. Her polite smile was warm, but only at a practiced level. It never quite reached her eyes.
And then there was Jun Meiling, his cousin. Spoiled, self-absorbed, and utterly uninterested in his presence. As expected, she didn't even acknowledge him.
Xi Lian greeted them all politely, his voice soft—perfectly mirroring the original owner's weak personality . Uncle Jun just nodded at him , his Aunt smiled at him politely while his cousin ignored him completely.
As expected.
He picked up his chopsticks and ate quietly, unbothered by the lack of conversation. That was until—
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Footsteps.
The warm atmosphere cracked, if only for a second.
A figure stepped into the room. The air seemed to shift, growing heavier with his presence. No one spoke. No one even acknowledged him.
Except Xi Lian, who observed from the corner of his eye.
Even without the plot, Jun Hao was a person impossible to ignore. His very existence demanded attention—not through words, but through sheer, silent authority.
Dark eyes, cold and unreadable, rested beneath long lashes. His sharp features were refined, sculpted with a precision that bordered on unnatural. He carried himself with a quiet strength, his expression betraying nothing.
The protagonist.
But no one looked at him. They had learned not to.
Jun Hao, in turn, didn't spare them a glance either. He simply sat, picked up his chopsticks, and ate in silence.He was not the same little child who wanted comfort and securance.
Although Jun Hao thought he was calm and unaffected, his micro-expressions could not escape Xi Lian's eyes.
Xi Lian's gaze flickered away. It wasn't his business anyway.
As he chewed, a strange feeling settled in his chest. Something about this teenager felt... familiar. But that was impossible. He had never met him before.
A mechanical chime broke his thoughts.
"Host, focus. Your emotions are irrelevant."
Xi Lian scowled slightly. That was suspiciously well-timed.
Jun Hao finished his meal quickly. Ignoring Jun Meiling's complaints, he picked up his school bag and walked out the door. It was still an hour before classes started, but he left anyway.
A habit, Xi Lian assumed.
Half an hour later, Xi Lian also got up. He grabbed two lunchboxes—one for himself and one for Jun Hao.
Jun Hao never brought lunch. He ate in the cafeteria, using his limited allowance. But even with the money Aunt Jun gave him to maintain appearances, it was just enough to get by.
This was a small change. Barely noticeable. But if there was one thing Xi Lian knew from novels, it was that even the smallest ripples could cause a storm.
And he cannot afford to be a passive observer.
With that thought, he walked out the door.