It was a regular morning in the Lu family.
The smell of congee, coffee, and perfectly steamed buns wafted up from the dining room, painting a picture of warmth and harmony.
The same picture as always.
The same lie.
Lu Mian stood by the staircase, her hand resting lightly on the railing. Her long, ink-dark hair slid over one shoulder like silk; her eyes, clear as water, reflected the morning light. She wore a simple white dress. Not luxurious, but precise. Every line and fold felt deliberate, as though her entire life had been redrawn overnight.
In truth, it had been.
She had woken up two days ago, alive again, her soul flung back into a time she thought forever lost. The universe, for reasons she didn't understand, had given her another chance. And the first thing she decided when she opened her eyes was simple — she would no longer play the fool.
"Eldest Miss, please sit. Your porridge is just right."
The smooth, practiced voice of Aunt He broke the silence.
The head maid — neat bun, gentle smile, sharp eyes — was already pulling out a chair at the far end of the table. As always, the farthest corner. As always, away from the warmth of the "family."
Lu Mian's lips curved faintly. The same seat, the same ritual, the same cold indifference wrapped in manners.
"Thank you, Aunt He," she said softly, taking her seat. "I'll have just the buns today."
"But Mianmian, the abalone congee is especially well done today!" Xu Lihua's cheerful voice rang out. "I simmered it longer so it'd stay warm for you."
"She really is your treasure, Mommy," said Lu Xinya with a laugh. "You favor her so much, I'm starting to get jealous."
Lu Mian picked up a bun and smiled. "Thank you, Madam Lu," she said evenly. "But I'll stick to the buns."
"Sister, you're too much," Xinya pressed, her tone sweet and sharp at once. "Even if you don't like Mommy, you could at least taste her porridge. She stayed up half the night to make sure it was perfect for you, and you can't even take one bite."
There it was — the perfectly generous insult. A jab disguised as care.
Before Mian could respond, her father's voice cut through the air.
"Don't make a fuss, Mianmian. Eat the porridge."
Lu Yezhao didn't even look up from his newspaper. A traditional man — indifferent to his daughter, detached from his household, too proud to do anything useful. He liked to think of himself as a pillar of the family, but his real talent was wasting money, ruining deals, and pretending no one knew about the women who accompanied his business trips.
His wife, of course, knew everything and punished any woman foolish enough to think she could compete. They really were the perfect pair.
Xu Lihua sighed delicately. "Oh, she's still young and impulsive. Don't scold her, dear." Then, with feigned distress, "If you don't like this, Mianmian, I'll make something else right away."
The performance was a flawless mix of motherly patience and tolerance.
Lu Mian, unfortunately, had no more patience to sit through it. One lifetime was enough.
"I'm allergic," she said quietly, standing up with her bun and schoolbag. "But thank you for your care, Madam Lu. I'd rather not end up in the hospital again to prove my gratitude. And, Xinya — I stayed up half the night finishing the song you wanted, which is why I overslept. You don't have to thank me."
And she walked away, leaving behind a silence thick enough to choke on.
Lu Yezhao frowned, torn between embarrassment and irritation, ready to lash out — but Xinya beat him to it.
"Sigh... she's still lying to get Yan ge's attention," she said softly. "I was the one who wrote the song. I just asked her to help check the chords."
"You're too kind, Xinxin," Xu Lihua said, recovering instantly. "It's all right, you know your sister's temper. She'll understand once you're older."
"Nonsense!" snapped Lu Yezhao. "With the singing competition coming up, she can't go around making false claims. I'll deal with her when she gets back."
Mother and daughter shared a secret smile. Another small victory.
"I'm heading to school too, Dad," said Lu Xinya sweetly, rising from her chair. "Yan ge promised to drive me today."
"Oh, that boy is lovely," her mother beamed. "He dotes on you so much."
"Mother!" Xinya flushed prettily. "Don't say that — he's sister's fiancé. I don't want her to misunderstand."
Lu Yezhao chuckled. "We'll see. Mianmian still acts like a child. I don't know if she's ready for the Pei family. It's good to have someone sensible like you around, Xinxin."
"Daaad!" Xinya squeaked, pretending to pout. "I'm leaving!"
She skipped off, the very picture of girlish innocence — if you didn't notice the smug glint in her eyes.
From the staircase above, Lu Mian watched them quietly. In her last life, she had mistaken this for love. For family. She blindly ignored the petty jealousy and scheming, throwing away everything she worked for, for love. Because she falsely thought this family was her responsibility too, and she wanted to genuinely do the best for them.
Not this time.
Through the window, she saw the familiar silver convertible glide up the driveway - Pei Yan's car.
Her heart was still for a beat, then steady.
In her past life, she had thought his arrival meant safety. Now, she knew better.
Lu Mian calmly tucked her notebook and research papers under one arm and walked towards it.
As she expected, Xinya was already there, laughter bright as bells, talking animatedly with him.
Lu Mian smiled faintly. The sight no longer hurt; if anything, it eased her. How obvious it all was, now that she could see clearly.
"You're late again, Mianmian," Pei Yan said, the warmth in his face dimming. "I'm rushing to a shareholder meeting—I can't keep waiting."
"Yan gege, don't blame Sister," Xinya said quickly. "She did her best to come down in time, even though she overslept. We can go by ourselves if you're busy."
She never misses her mark, Mian thought feeling a faint sense of appreciation. Every word sounds generous and lands exactly where she wants it.
Pei Yan exhaled through his nose. "My parents will worry," he said shortly. "Let's go."
And there it was. He was only here because his parents insisted.
The engagement between their families had been arranged when they were children—Lin Shuyun, his mother, had been her own mother's closest friend, and the match had seemed almost fated.
After her mother's death, though, the balance shifted. Xu Lihua and Xinya's quiet manipulations had turned the Yan elders' favor, until even the servants whispered that Xinya would make the better wife.
Only Auntie Lin had ever stood by her.
Mild, kind Auntie Lin, Mian thought, the memory softening her expression. You saw what I couldn't. You told me to walk away, and I didn't. I won't disappoint you again.
"I'll let Auntie Lin know myself," she said calmly. "Please don't trouble yourself."
Then she turned and began to walk away.
Pei Yan paused mid-step, hand on the car door. He wasn't used to being dismissed.
"Mianmian..."
"We're not going the same way," she said, voice light, almost courteous. "Take my sister instead; she's been waiting." The phrase was deep and weighty. For a moment, it almost felt like she wasn't talking about the car ride but was distancing herself from him instead.
"Oh, I wasn't waiting for you!" Xinya protested. "I know you came for Sister. She just misunderstood—let me go talk to her—"
"Let her go," Pei Yan cut in, irritation flickering and quickly dousing the unease he felt. "I've been too lenient."
"But, Gege—"
"It's her own fault. I'm not here to pamper her. Come, I'll see you off."
Xinya's heart leapt. Finally, she thought, a chance to be alone with him.
She moved toward the passenger seat, smiling sweetly.
"Sit in the back," Pei Yan said, not even glancing at her.
Color rose to her cheeks. "Of course, Gege." She slipped into the back seat with all the grace she could muster.
As the car passed the gate, Xinya looked out triumphantly at Lu Mian walking along the sidewalk. See? I'm the one beside him now.
Lu Mian only smiled, serene and distant. Good luck, Sister. You're welcome to him.
A man who would trade loyalty for convenience wasn't a prize. He was a warning.
The car turned the corner and disappeared. For a moment the scene overlapped with another memory—the same car, the same departure—but that night the light had been red, and he hadn't looked back while the world behind her burned.