Lin Feng came downstairs at 7:02 AM.
Today, he was thirteen minutes later than usual.
His mind was already running calculations. Plans forming, strategies crystallizing, priorities sorting themselves into order. He knew what he needed to do today. Handle Lin Weiwei first. Then Xiao Yue. Both needed to be safe before he could reveal anything.
The original Lin Feng had already prepared a lunchbox for Su Qingxue early in the morning before hitting back into the covers for an extra wink of sleep.
The contents were made with exquisite dishes, some containing very expensive ingredients, carefully prepared by him and wrapped in aluminum foil to keep warm.
In the original timeline, the other Lin Feng would make breakfast for Su Qingxue every single day.
Sometimes he started cooking at midnight just to have everything perfect by morning.
Hours of effort, premium ingredients, restaurant-quality presentation—all for a woman who accepted his offerings with cold smiles and never once cooked anything in return.
However, that was the other Lin Feng.
And he was not that Lin Feng.
Not anymore. Not today.
The dining room was enormous.
It was at least eighty square meters of pure excess. European-style furniture imported from the west, a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling worth six figures, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking half the city. Wealth. Status. Privilege. Everything screamed money.
But none of that mattered.
What mattered was the girl standing by the table.
Lin Feng stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
His breath caught.
The novel described her. Through the ten thousand chapters, countless scenes, detailed paragraphs about her beauty. He'd read every word, imagined her face, thought he understood what "seven-star heroine" meant.
He was wrong.
Words on a screen couldn't capture this.
Lin Weiwei stood by the dining table in morning light, and she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in two lifetimes.
Not beautiful like Su Qingxue. That was calculated beauty, polished beauty, weaponized beauty designed to manipulate and control. Hours of makeup, careful presentation, every smile measured for maximum effect.
This was different.
Raw. Effortless. Natural.
The kind of beauty that existed whether anyone noticed or not.
At school, she hid it.
Lin Feng knew this from the novel, from the inherited memories now settling into his mind.
Outside this house, Lin Weiwei became someone else entirely. Oversized clothes swallowing her figure. Hair falling over her face like a curtain. Muted colors, hunched posture, eyes cast downward.
The cold goddess act that kept everyone at a distance, that made people afraid to approach, that turned her into an ice queen no one dared touch.
But at home, she didn't hide.
Her cream-colored sweater was still loose, but it slipped slightly off one shoulder, revealing collarbone like carved jade.
Her simple black leggings hugged legs that seemed to go on forever. Her long black hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, exposing the delicate curve of her neck, the perfect line of her jaw, cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass.
No makeup. No jewelry. No effort whatsoever.
And she was still devastating.
Her skin was like white jade glowing softly in the morning sun, flawless and luminous without any artificial help.
Her lips were naturally pink like cherry blossoms, slightly parted as she arranged dishes on the table.
Her eyes were dark and deep, filled with years of hidden love she thought were invisible to him.
She wore rabbit-ear slippers on her feet. Cute. Domestic. Completely at odds with the goddess-level face above them.
Lin Feng's chest tightened.
The original Lin Feng saw this every morning. Every single morning for thirteen years. Watched her grow from a cute five-year-old into this breathtaking woman. Sat across from her at this very table thousands of times.
And he looked past her to text Su Qingxue.
What kind of brain damage did that idiot have?
What level of blindness required a man to ignore THIS while chasing a manipulative gold-digger who saw him as nothing more than a walking ATM?
Su Qingxue was two stars. Pretty, yes. The kind of pretty that required effort, maintenance, careful cultivation. The campus belle title was earned through strategy as much as genetics.
Lin Weiwei was seven stars.
One of only two seven-star heroines in a novel with three thousand women. A top-tier beauty that existed naturally, effortlessly, without trying. The kind of face that could have launched wars in ancient times, that made emperors abandon kingdoms, that drove men to madness with a single glance.
The difference wasn't just magnitude. It was category.
Like comparing a candle to the sun.
And the fool ignored the sun to chase a candle for four years already—with eight more to come if nothing changed.
Twelve years of blindness. Lin Feng had read every painful chapter of it.
Lin Feng understood now why Long Tian pursued her for hundreds of chapters. Why the protagonist threw everything he had at conquering her. Why she was rated "impossible difficulty" despite having no combat abilities, no political power, no special skills beyond her devotion.
A woman this beautiful, this loyal, this genuine in her love—she was worth empires.
And she'd been making breakfast for him every morning for five years while he didn't even notice she existed.
Lin Weiwei looked up and saw him standing there.
Her eyes widened slightly. Surprise flickered across her face before she controlled it, smoothing her expression into that careful neutrality she always wore around him.
"Brother, you're awake." Her voice was soft, careful, almost afraid. "I made breakfast. You have class at nine, so I thought—"
She stopped.
Because Lin Feng did something he had never done before.
He walked to the table, pulled out a chair, and put his phone down. Face down. Screen off. Didn't look at it once.
Her eyes went wide.
In the years of making him breakfast, the original Lin Feng had never once put his phone down. Never once stopped checking messages from Su Qingxue. Never once given Lin Weiwei his full attention for even a single minute.
Until now.
"Thank you, Weiwei." He sat across from her, met her eyes directly, and smiled. Actually smiled—not that cold polite mask the original wore, but something warm and genuine. "It looks amazing. You didn't have to wake up so early."
Silence.
Complete, total, absolute silence.
She stared at him like he'd grown a second head. Like he'd sprouted wings and announced he was an alien from Mars. Like reality itself had cracked open and something impossible had crawled out.
"Brother..." Her voice came out uncertain, confused, frightened. "Are you... are you feeling okay? Do you have a fever? Should I call Doctor Wang?"
She reached out to check his forehead.
Lin Feng caught her hand before she touched him.
Her skin was soft against his palm. Cool and smooth, delicate like silk. Her fingers were slender, elegant, trembling slightly in his grip.
"I'm fine." He released her hand gently. "Better than fine, actually. Sit down. Eat with me."
"I already ate earlier."
"Then have tea. Keep me company."
Long silence.
She looked like someone had told her gravity reversed, the sun rose in the west, and reality itself had broken beyond repair.
But she sat.
Slowly. Carefully. Like the moment might shatter if she moved too fast. Like this was a dream she'd wake from any second.
Lin Feng started eating.
The congee was perfect. Smooth texture, right consistency, ginger and scallions balanced in exact proportions. The fried dough sticks were crispy on the outside, soft inside, still warm from the oil. The tea eggs had been simmered for hours, flavor soaked deep into the whites.
And the osmanthus cakes.
Her signature dish. It was sweet and delicate, aromatic with the subtle fragrance of osmanthus flowers, requiring genuine skill and patience to make properly.
"This is really good," he said, actually tasting it this time instead of shoveling food mechanically while distracted. "The osmanthus cakes especially. These must have taken forever. How long were you in the kitchen?"
"Two... two hours." She was still watching him like he'd gone completely insane. "You've never asked before. Never."
"I know." Lin Feng met her eyes. "That was stupid."
Her chopsticks trembled in her hand. Tiny movement, almost invisible, but he noticed. He noticed everything now.
Her years of invisible effort. Years of waking before dawn to cook for someone who didn't care. A very long time of being treated like unpaid kitchen staff by a brother who couldn't see past his obsession with another woman.
One sentence acknowledging it all.
His phone buzzed.
Once. Twice. Three times in rapid succession.
Weiwei glanced at it automatically. Her expression shifted—recognition first, then resignation, then something sad and painful before she managed to hide it.
She knew who was texting. Everyone knew. The whole campus knew about Lin Feng's pathetic obsession with the campus belle.
Su Qingxue.
"Brother." Her voice was quiet, careful, afraid of the answer she already expected. "Isn't that... isn't she waiting for you?"
Lin Feng didn't glance at the phone. "Not important."
"But you always—"
"Always answered immediately? Always dropped everything to run like a trained dog?" He took another bite of osmanthus cake, chewing slowly, savoring the taste. "Yeah. That was stupid too."
Weiwei's chopsticks trembled again.
Lin Feng stood up and walked to the kitchen counter.
Another container sat there. It was the lunchbox the original Lin Feng had made early in the morning.
Weiwei noticed immediately. Her eyes locked onto it like it was a bomb about to explode.
She knew what it meant. In five years, Lin Feng had honed his cooking skills. But he only used it for one person. Only showed this kind of effort for another person.
Lin Weiwei automatically knew it was for Su Qingxue.
Exquisite dishes inside.
Bird's nest congee with goji berries and red dates. The bird's nest alone cost thousands of yuan per gram.
Handmade xiaolongbao with premium wagyu beef filling. Each dumpling folded with exactly eighteen pleats.
Osmanthus honey glazed spare ribs, slow-braised for six hours.
A small container of high-grade matsutake mushroom soup. The mushrooms were imported fresh from Yunnan.
Crystal shrimp dumplings with translucent wrappers so thin you could read through them.
Hours of work. Premium ingredients. Restaurant-quality presentation.
All for a woman who never said thank you.
Her voice came out smaller. Quieter. Almost breaking.
"Brother... is that... is that for her?"
For Su Qingxue. That's what she meant. What she feared. What she assumed.
In the original timeline, Lin Feng made breakfast for Su Qingxue every single day. Woke up, sometimes as early as midnight, cooked her favorites with obsessive attention, packaged everything like a five-star restaurant delivery, brought it to her dorm like a personal food service.
She accepted with cold smiles. Used the meals to string him along. Never once cooked anything in return.
Lin Feng picked up the container. Still warm in his hands.
"It's for someone else. Someone important."
Weiwei blinked.
Someone else?
Not Su Qingxue?
She stared at her brother, mind racing. Processing. Analyzing.
He'd put his phone down without checking it. He'd thanked her for breakfast—genuinely thanked her, not the automatic politeness of a stranger. He'd eaten every bite. He'd called his years of chasing Su Qingxue "stupid."
And now he said the lunchbox was for someone else.
Not her.
Someone important.
Her heart started beating faster.
Something had changed. Something fundamental. The brother who'd ignored her for many years, who'd treated Su Qingxue like a goddess and everyone else like background noise—that brother wouldn't say these things. Wouldn't act like this.
This was different.
He was different.
"Brother..." Her voice came out smaller than she intended. Careful. Hopeful. Afraid to believe. "Did something happen? You're really... you're really not going to see her today?"
She meant Su Qingxue. The woman who'd monopolized his attention for four years. The woman Weiwei had learned to hate in silence.
Lin Feng met her eyes. "No. I'm not."
Simple words. Final. Absolute.
Something warm bloomed in Weiwei's chest. Hope she'd buried years ago, clawing its way back to the surface.
But questions remained.
Who was this "someone important"?
If not Su Qingxue, then who had captured her brother's attention? Who was worth waking at dawn to cook for?
She wanted to ask. The question burned on her tongue.
But she held back. Too afraid to push. Too afraid this fragile moment would shatter if she pressed too hard.
For now, it was enough.
He wasn't running to Su Qingxue.
He'd eaten her breakfast. Thanked her. Smiled at her.
That was more than she'd gotten in five years combined.
The identity of this mysterious "someone important" could wait.
Lin Feng could see the shift in her expression. Confusion giving way to cautious hope. The guarded walls she'd built around her heart developing tiny cracks.
Good.
But he couldn't explain everything yet. Not until Xiao Yue was handled. Not until both of them were safe.
The original Lin Feng had been blind. Impressively, catastrophically, almost supernaturally blind. Two seven-star heroines—two genuinely perfect women who loved him with everything they had—thrown away like garbage for a two-star inferior heroine who saw him as nothing but a wallet with legs.
But fixing that mistake required patience. Strategy. Perfect timing.
Xiao Yue first.
She'd been watching from the shadows for years. Never approaching, never speaking, never revealing herself. Suffering silently, loving from a distance, content with whatever scraps of his presence she could gather from afar.
She sat in class every day.
Back row, corner seat, those ghost-like eyes tracking his every movement with obsessive focus. She knew his schedule better than he did. Knew which routes he walked, which seats he preferred, which foods he bought from the cafeteria.
Five years of invisible love so far.
And she skipped breakfast every morning. Too anxious, too focused on getting to class early to secure her watching spot, too lost in her own world to care for her own health.
Not today. Not anymore.
His phone buzzed again. Again. Again.
Su Qingxue's messages were getting urgent now. Demanding. Manipulative.
Lin Feng picked up the phone and glanced at the screen.
[Su Qingxue: Lin Feng, where are you?]
[Su Qingxue: I need your help at the library! Really important!]
[Su Qingxue: This is urgent! I've been waiting!]
[Su Qingxue: You always help before... what's different today?]
[Su Qingxue: Are you angry? Did I do something wrong? Talk to me!]
[Su Qingxue: Fine. If you won't help, I'll find someone else. Don't say I didn't give you a chance.]
That last message.
It was classic example of manipulation. Textbook emotional blackmail. The threat of replacement designed to trigger panic, to make him scramble, to send him running to the library like a desperate fool terrified of losing her attention.
The original Lin Feng would have broken his legs sprinting across campus.
But he wasn't the original anymore.
He typed one message back.
[Su Qingxue: Sorry, I'm busy today. Good luck with whatever you need.]
Sent.
Phone face-down.
Done.
Weiwei had seen the messages before he flipped the phone. Her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, her mouth falling open in pure shock.
"Brother... did you just..."
"Tell her no?" Lin Feng stood, container in hand. "Yeah. I did."
"But you never—"
"Never told her no? Never prioritized anything over running to her side?"
He met Weiwei's eyes, and there was something different in his gaze now.
Something intense, focused, real.
Something that made her breath catch in her throat.
"Weiwei, I told you. Things are changing. A lot of things."
She stood slowly. Moving like she was walking through a dream, afraid to wake up.
"What happened to you, Brother?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. "You're completely different. Like a different person overnight."
Lin Feng smiled.
On the surface, it was cold and calculating. But underneath—when he looked at her—there was genuine warmth. Real affection. Real care.
"I woke up. That's all." He started walking toward the door. "Finally woke up and saw what was right in front of me all along."
He paused at the doorway. Looked back over his shoulder. Made sure she was watching, listening, absorbing every word.
"Thank you for the breakfast, Weiwei. Really. It meant a lot." His voice softened. "More than you know."
Then he left.
Container in hand. Steady steps. Purpose in every stride.
Leaving Lin Weiwei standing alone in that enormous dining room, her heart pounding violently in her chest, her mind spinning in complete chaos.
-------------------------
She stood there frozen.
Maybe five minutes. Maybe ten. Time felt strange, stretched and compressed at the same time.
Staring at the empty doorway. The empty chair across from hers. His empty bowl—actually finished, every bite eaten, not left half-full like usual while he was distracted by his phone.
What just happened?
He thanked her. Actually thanked her, with genuine feeling in his voice, not that polite automatic response people gave to servants.
He ate everything. Every bite. Complimented the food. Asked how long it took to make.
He smiled at her. Really smiled, warmly, like he actually meant it.
He told Su Qingxue no. Actually refused her. Chose something else over running to her side.
Her heart was still pounding. Not from pain.
From hope.
Real, genuine, terrifying hope.
This is dangerous. Don't hope. You know better than to hope.
But she couldn't help it.
Lin Weiwei knew her brother's routines better than anyone.
The Lin Group—their family's electronics empire—produced electronics components and ELECs. They also have a production line for cameras but it was small and mostly just a side venture for the Lin group.
And she had "borrowed" eight of their prototype cameras two years ago.
Hidden in the ceiling light fixture of his room. Behind the mirror. Inside the smoke detector. Tucked into the corner of his bookshelf. Embedded in his desk lamp. Concealed in the air vent.
Eight cameras in total. Full coverage. Every angle.
Father would kill me if he knew that his adopted daughter is using the company's prototype cameras for spying on my Big Brother.
But Father didn't know. No one knew.
She watched Lin Feng every night from her room next door. Watched him sleep, watched him change, watched him pace around texting Su Qingxue with that desperate look on his face that made her want to break something.
When the cameras weren't enough—when she needed to be closer—she'd sneak into his room after he fell asleep.
Just to watch him breathe.
Just to smell his pillow.
Just to exist in the same space, pretending for a few stolen moments that she belonged there.
Pathetic? Maybe.
Obsessive? Definitely.
But I can't stop. I've never been able to stop.
That was why this morning felt so wrong.
She'd watched him on the cameras last night, same as always. Watched him cook for Su Qingxue at midnight—those elaborate dishes that should have been for her. Watched him go back to sleep around 4 AM.
Everything normal. Everything routine.
Everything was painfully familiar.
But when he woke up this morning, something was different.
She'd seen it on the cameras. The way he looked at himself in the mirror. The way he paused, stared, like he was seeing his own reflection for the first time.
What happened to you last night, Lin Feng?
What changed?
And then—strangest of all—the way he looked at HER when he came downstairs.
Not through her. Not past her. Not with that distant, distracted gaze he always wore.
At her.
Like he was actually seeing her for the first time.
Her hands clenched at her sides.
Five years.
A long time she'd watched him chase Su Qingxue.
Many years of monitoring every text, every call, every pathetic attempt to win that woman's affection.
Five years of hating herself for not being brave enough to confess, while simultaneously hating Su Qingxue for not appreciating what she had.
And now—suddenly—something had cracked.
He'd rejected Su Qingxue. Coldly. Completely. Without hesitation.
"Good luck with whatever you need."
I watched him type those words. Watched him send them. Watched him put the phone down like it meant nothing.
Four years of obsessive bootlicking, dismissed in a single text.
This was her chance.
Her opportunity.
The crack in his armor she'd been waiting for.
She picked up the dishes, her hands moving with new purpose. Not the mechanical routine of resignation.
The sharp efficiency of someone making plans.
But who is "someone important"?
A face surfaced in her mind. Pale skin. Dark hair. Ghost-like eyes that never seemed to blink.
It's that stalker bitch!
Lin Weiwei knew about her. Of course she knew.
That girl had been watching Lin Feng since middle school. Always sitting in the back row. Always staring. Always following him with those creepy, obsessive eyes.
It takes a stalker to recognize a stalker.
The difference was that Weiwei lived with Lin Feng. She had access. She had proximity. She had thirteen years of shared history and a legitimate reason to be close to him.
Xiao Yue had nothing. Just her silent watching from the shadows, her pathetic longing from a distance.
But now...
"Someone important."
Please don't let it be her.
Anyone but her.
She could handle Su Qingxue. That woman was a manipulator, a gold-digger, someone Lin Feng would eventually see through. The obsession would burn itself out.
But that stalker?
She was genuine. She was very devoted. She loved Lin Feng the same way Weiwei did—completely, obsessively, without reservation.
If he's bringing that lunchbox to her...
Her nails dug into her palms.
No.
I won't accept that.
I was here first. I've loved him longer. I've cooked for him, watched over him, devoted myself to him for five years while she just sat in the back of classrooms like a ghost.
I won't lose to that girl.
Her phone buzzed.
She picked it up. Saw the notification preview.
[Lin Feng: By the way, those osmanthus cakes were the best I've ever had. You're really talented, Weiwei. Don't skip class today. I'll see you at lunch.]
Her breath caught.
Lunch.
He wants to see me at lunch.
He's never texted me first before. Never. In five years of living in the same house, of cooking him breakfast every morning, of loving him from the shadows—he's never once initiated contact.
Something had definitely changed.
Her mind immediately started racing. Planning. Calculating.
I need to get to campus early. See where he takes that lunchbox. Confirm if it's going to Xiao Yue.
If it is...
I'll deal with that when I confirm it.
But lunch. He wants to see me at lunch.
What should she bring?
Something special. Something that would remind him why her cooking was worth his attention.
Something that would make whatever Xiao Yue offered look pathetic in comparison.
But lunch isn't enough.
What about dinner?
He hadn't mentioned dinner.
That meant his evening was open.
That meant she had an opportunity.
I could cook his favorites. All of them. Spend hours in the kitchen if necessary.
Or…
A bolder thought struck her.
La Maison. That European restaurant downtown. Expensive. Exclusive.
I could rent the entire venue. Use their kitchen. Cook for him personally.
Not just a meal. A statement.
Years of saved allowance. Never spent on anything frivolous.
What's the point of saving if not for moments like this?
She saved the message.
Held the phone against her chest for just a moment.
Lunch first. Then dinner. Then everything else.
Tonight, I'll capture him.
Whatever it takes. However bold I need to be.
One way or another, tonight will change everything.
A thought struck her.
The gate cameras.
She wanted to see him one last time.
Watch him walk to school. Memorize the way he moved, the way he carried himself, that new confidence in his stride that hadn't been there yesterday.
She pulled up the security feed on her phone.
There he was.
Walking down the driveway. Through the front gate. Onto the sidewalk.
And then—
He turned.
Not toward school.
Toward the Starlight Café.
That suspicious little shop that had appeared more than two years ago, right across from their estate. The one with the corner booth that had a perfect sightline to their front gate. The one where a certain pale, ghost-like girl sat every single morning.
Watching.
Waiting.
Lin Weiwei watched Lin Feng push open the café door.
Watched him walk inside.
Watched him disappear from view.
Her blood boiled.
HER!.
IT WAS FOR HER!
FOR THAT STALKER BITCH!
Okay... Weiwei...
Breath in… breath out… breath in… breath out...
...
Fine.
Her grip tightened on her phone until her knuckles went white.
FINE…
Let's see if that stalker can still compete with me after tonight.