Facing Ji Xiu, Third Brother Li felt restless and ill at ease.
Although Ji Xiu hadn’t spelled out the secret, his eyes carried a knowing clarity. Under that gaze, it felt as though nothing could be hidden at all.
Li San-ge didn’t dare meet Ji Xiu’s penetrating look. Without realizing it, he leaned back slightly, putting some distance between them.
Yet he couldn’t help wanting to probe just how much Ji Xiu knew. He cleared his throat and asked, “What… what did you mean just now?”
Ji Xiu replied calmly, “Zhuang Zhou dreamed of a butterfly. A fleeting life, a single dream.”
Li San-ge: “……”
He really knew!
But how could he know? All he’d done was pay a bit more attention to Yingzi. And Jingjing—this was their first time meeting. Even if he’d slipped up, there was no way someone could immediately grasp the truth!
Li San-ge was completely stunned, staring at Ji Xiu in disbelief, a chill creeping up his spine.
Suddenly, a thought struck him.
Could it be that Ji Xiu was also—
Yes. He must be reborn too!
Otherwise, there was no way to explain why, in this life, both Ji Xiu and Li Shiyue had gotten into university, and why Yingzi hadn’t met with disaster.
Li San-ge instantly perked up, eyes shining as he fixed his gaze on Ji Xiu. “You’re the same as me?”
Ji Xiu paused slightly when he heard that, not answering right away.
Noticing the expectation in Li San-ge’s eyes, he thought for a moment, then decided to go along with it. He nodded. “Yes. Just like you’re thinking.”
Li San-ge sprang to his feet, glowing with excitement, energy radiating from him as he grabbed Ji Xiu’s hand. “Brother-in-law, you’ve worked so hard!”
He’d only been reborn for half a month, yet already felt crushed under the weight of responsibility, barely able to breathe.
He knew how the future would unfold. If he didn’t avert regrets and accomplish something meaningful, how could he be worthy of this stroke of luck—this rebirth? And yet his own abilities were painfully limited.
In his previous life, before he’d even made it to university, the burdens of survival had bent his back, reducing him to an ordinary nobody at the bottom rung.
Later, when the family recovered and he no longer lacked food or clothing, he’d already missed too much. Disheartened and weary, he’d refused to learn or adapt, letting himself stagnate.
So now, reborn, he was completely lost—knowing nothing, unable to help even if he wanted to. All he could do was warn Big Brother to be cautious, while being useless himself.
But Ji Xiu—just the fact that he’d gotten himself and Li Shiyue into Huaqing University was proof enough that he’d been reborn much earlier.
Which meant he must have endured far more.
Li San-ge felt sorry for his own clumsiness, and even more sorry for Ji Xiu, who’d been reborn so early.
Yet at the same time, he felt a faint sense of relief.
If he were the only one reborn, those unspeakable secrets would be forever buried in his heart. Even facing family, he wouldn’t dare utter a single word.
But if Ji Xiu was reborn too, then everything changed.
He finally had someone he could share those secrets with.
And since Ji Xiu had been able to bring Li Shiyue back to the capital, help her get into Huaqing University—no matter how he’d died in the previous life—it proved he was capable, only deprived of opportunity before.
Li San-ge’s heart pounded. He tugged at Ji Xiu, eager to discuss feelings after rebirth, the changes between past and present lives.
Ji Xiu froze.
Facing Li San-ge’s almost excessive enthusiasm, he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
He’d never imagined he’d invite this kind of trouble. He even regretted poking at the issue.
After all, Li San-ge’s disguise was poor—but normally, no one would jump straight to the idea of rebirth.
Ji Xiu had guessed the truth only because, back in the Upper Xi Spirit Realm, he’d once encountered someone just like Li San-ge.
That person had been the chief disciple of a righteous immortal sect—a senior sister with a bright future and stellar reputation.
One day, she was suddenly expelled from the sect and hunted down by her former peers. The news spread, becoming a strange legend in the Upper Xi Spirit Realm.
At the time, Ji Xiu had been nothing more than an ordinary man, gathering spiritual herbs in the mountains. He personally witnessed her being besieged on a spirit mountain. On the brink of death, she seemed to transform entirely—her combat power surging as she fought back desperately, killing everyone who surrounded her.
After slaughtering them all, she collapsed from exhaustion. Ji Xiu saved her.
When she woke up, she looked at him with a complicated expression and said, “I didn’t expect that after going in circles, it would still be you who saved me.” Ji Xiu didn’t understand what she meant. She disappeared for three months, then returned, tossing him a jade slip as repayment, saying a few cryptic words before drifting away.
At the time, Ji Xiu hadn’t understood any of it. Only later—after traveling through multiple worlds and encountering novels—did he realize the truth.
That woman had been reborn. In her previous life, she’d had ties with him.
Because of that experience, Ji Xiu sensed something was off the moment Li San-ge appeared.
Back then, he hadn’t been fully certain. It was only through their earlier conversation, noticing the holes in Li San-ge’s words, that he’d truly confirmed his guess.
He just hadn’t expected that a single probing remark would make Li San-ge’s expression change so drastically, exposing everything.
Worse still—Li San-ge now wanted to discuss the previous life in detail.
But Ji Xiu really didn’t want to talk about the past…
With a sigh, he had no choice but to say, “I left very early. I don’t know what happened afterward. There’s really nothing to talk about.”
Li San-ge froze, his face instantly turning ugly. Sure enough, he said nothing more.
Ji Xiu had left—but they hadn’t.
What was there to discuss about such a tragic ending anyway?
Ji Xiu died. Li Shiyue died. Ji Yingzi went missing, becoming a drug lord…
Following Ji Xiu’s words, Li San-ge closed his eyes and recalled his previous life. Guilt bubbled up all over him, and he didn’t dare speak again.
He was a coward.
He didn’t dare tell Ji Xiu that it was his family who’d lost Yingzi. His heart twisted in pain, yet he still had to put on a front.
He forced a difficult smile. “You’re right. Those are things of the past. It’s better to focus on the present.”
Ji Xiu nodded, a faint smile on his lips. “I’m back now. I won’t let them—mother and daughter—be hurt again.”
As he said this, his gaze flicked lightly toward Li San-ge.
Li San-ge didn’t understand the implication and failed to notice Ji Xiu testing him. He nodded in agreement. “You’re amazing. I believe in you.”
Being able to change fate and get Li Shiyue into Huaqing University—he was far more capable than himself.
Thankfully, he hadn’t been reborn before the college entrance exam. Otherwise, he would’ve definitely failed.
After twenty years, he’d long forgotten all the knowledge he’d once crammed for the exams.
Li San-ge praised Ji Xiu enthusiastically.
Ji Xiu grew thoughtful. It seemed that in the previous life, Li Shiyue hadn’t explained the true cause of Yingzi’s injury to her family.
At the very least, they didn’t know it had started because the original Ji Xiu had torn up Li Shiyue’s textbooks, triggering the conflict. That was why Li San-ge, seeing Ji Xiu now, showed admiration and excitement, without a trace of anger.
Li Shiyue…
She’d shouldered all the blame herself, grinding herself down with guilt until it killed her.
Ji Xiu sighed inwardly. Having clarified what he was worried about and confirmed that Li San-ge’s rebirth wouldn’t obstruct him, he stopped dwelling on it.
All of them carried memories of past lives—who was better than whom?
He didn’t care about Li San-ge’s fate. He cared only about his own small family, the woman beside him, and the little girl.
He was here for Ji Yingzi and Li Shiyue.
As he was thinking this, Li Shiyue came out carrying a dish, smiling lightly. “Dinner’s ready. Go wash your hands.”
Behind her, Zhang Jingjing followed with another plate.
Ji Xiu and Li San-ge exchanged a look, tacitly ending their conversation. They stood up and went to call Yingzi.
Little Yingzi was in the room, completely absorbed in the picture books Third Uncle had brought. She was so engrossed she forgot the world, and only after being urged several times did she reluctantly put the book down and come out.
Even after dinner, she barely set down her bowl before running back to the room to read again.
Li Shiyue smiled, a trace of longing in her eyes. “She’s only five, but she reads every day. She’s practically becoming a little literary prodigy. I wonder if she’ll pursue a career related to books when she grows up.”
She was naturally romantic, but years in the countryside had denied her the chance to read. Now back in the capital and returned to school, she had little time.
If her daughter loved words and books, she would be overjoyed.
Hearing this, Li San-ge’s expression faltered. He drifted into a fantasy—if Yingzi hadn’t been lost in the previous life, perhaps a little literary genius really would have grown up before his eyes.
He would have bought her countless picture books, countless novels…
But there were no ifs.
Missing his niece’s growth in the previous life, Li San-ge came back to himself, feeling deeply dejected.
In the end, his excessive attention toward Ji Yingzi stemmed from regret and guilt.
If they hadn’t failed to get tickets and arrived a day late, they wouldn’t have missed Yingzi.
Yingzi had been so small, half-disfigured. What she’d endured over those twenty years—no one could say. It must have been unimaginably hard.
The more he thought about it, the more miserable he felt.
Just like Li Shiyue in the previous life, he tortured himself with regret, forming an obsession—wanting to give Yingzi everything, to make up for her past life.
Ji Xiu narrowed his eyes slightly as he watched him fawn over Yingzi, but didn’t intervene.
What was wrong with his daughter being adored by everyone?
…
Time flew by.
Three years of university passed in a blink.
Since Ji Xiu and Li Shiyue enrolled in December, they studied for half a year, became second-year students, then studied another three years and graduated smoothly.
At first, Ji Xiu found it strange that the Li family hadn’t encountered trouble in this life.
But he wasn’t one to dig too deeply. Considering that Li San-ge had been reborn, there was no way he’d let the family fall into disaster. He must have intervened. Ji Xiu didn’t dwell on it.
Not until Big Brother Li’s wife gave birth to a daughter, named Li Shengsheng.
At that point, Ji Xiu had even less time to care about the Li family.
Li Shengsheng—that was the female lead!
So in the previous life…
Ji Xiu instantly grasped just how cruel the original timeline had been.
Without knowing it, Yingzi had indirectly caused the deaths of some of the few relatives she had left in the world—her cousin and cousin-in-law.
He suddenly felt grateful that the world had collapsed.
Otherwise, if Yingzi later learned the truth, how much remorse would she feel?
Even though it was the Yingzi of a previous life, Ji Xiu had spent so long with the little Yingzi of this life that he already loved her deeply. Whether the small girl now, or the bitter, world-weary woman she’d become—both were his daughter.
Just thinking about Yingzi breaking down made his heart ache.
Thankfully, time had rewound before Yingzi learned the truth, resetting everything to the beginning.
At the same time, Ji Xiu grew even angrier at the capricious cruelty of fate.
But his current strength wasn’t enough to resist the world’s trajectory. He even needed to draw power from the world’s consciousness. So he could only suppress those thoughts for now.
During summer breaks, Ji Xiu and Li Shiyue returned to Chunxi Village several times. Most of the educated youths had already left. Only Guan Ji’an, kept behind by Captain Lin, remained. The last to leave was Sun Yue.
It took her two years to get into a mediocre school.
When she left, she deliberately left behind a letter, asking that it be given to Ji Xiu, entrusting Huang Taohua to pass it on.
But Huang Taohua liked Li Shiyue as a daughter-in-law and didn’t comply at all.
As soon as Sun Yue left, she threw the letter away.
When Ji Xiu came back, she only mentioned Sun Yue with cold sarcasm.
The letter?
None.
Fortunately, Ji Xiu had no interest whatsoever in reading it and didn’t mind.
As for Guan Ji’an, they hadn’t run into him.
Another summer arrived. Ji Xiu and Li Shiyue returned home and stayed for five days. Villagers came one after another, saying they wanted to soak up his “scholarly aura,” hoping their own boys might also get into university.
In the midst of the bustle, Guan Ji’an suddenly appeared.
Ji Xiu was mildly surprised and stood up to examine him.
He looked utterly wretched. His once passably handsome face had turned sallow and gaunt from working under the blazing sun every day. His skin was much darker.
He looked like an utterly ordinary villager—exactly the kind he’d once looked down upon.
If he hadn’t called Ji Xiu’s name, neither Ji Xiu nor Li Shiyue would have recognized him.
The moment he appeared, all the villagers dispersed.
As they left, their eyes held undisguised disdain, as if looking at something filthy.
Ji Xiu frowned, unsure what kind of trouble Guan Ji’an had stirred up over the past two years to earn such universal resentment.
“Shiyue…” Guan Ji’an’s voice was hoarse, the rasp of someone used to farm labor. He stared at Li Shiyue. “I never imagined you’d turn out to be a daughter of the Li family.”
Li Shiyue frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
While in the capital, Ji Xiu and Li Shiyue had immersed themselves in their studies and hadn’t interfered much with Li family affairs. They had no idea what Guan Ji’an was implying.
But Guan Ji’an took it as mockery. His face twisted. “You’re really… so ruthless.”
Ji Xiu stepped forward, blocking Li Shiyue. “If you’re here to ask for help, then mind your attitude and speak properly.”
People didn’t come to the Temple of Three Treasures without a reason. If Guan Ji’an had nothing to ask for, he wouldn’t appear like this.
Men never reveal their destitution in front of women—unless they’re truly desperate, with no dignity left to preserve.
Ji Xiu’s words hit the mark. Guan Ji’an’s face contorted. “You—you knew all along!”
Ji Xiu frowned. “Guan Ji’an, do you even know how to ask for help?”
“I…” Guan Ji’an froze. Hiding the malice in his eyes, he lowered his head. “I want to beg you… to spare my family.”
Even back when he’d needed to take the college entrance exam, he’d never bowed to Captain Lin.
This was the first time he’d ever begged.
Ji Xiu narrowed his eyes, sensing something subtle beneath the surface.
After returning to the capital, he asked Li San-ge about it.
Li San-ge hesitated and told him the story of the previous life.
Because Zhang Jingjing was involved, he’d originally planned to keep it from everyone. He just hadn’t expected Guan Ji’an to have been sent to the countryside with his little sister.
After hearing it, Ji Xiu understood—and felt even more speechless about the original plotline.
Were these people’s fates really so tightly entangled?
Still, considering what Guan Ji’an had done in the previous life, he deserved no mercy. Letting him off and giving him room to breathe would only endanger the Li family instead.
The next day, Ji Xiu went to see Big Brother Li.
A few months later, news spread that the retired Guan family had left the capital. No one knew where they’d gone.
Ji Xiu pondered this and found the outcome satisfactory.
…
Time flowed like water.
When Ji Xiu and Li Shiyue graduated, Ji Yingzi was already a second-grade elementary school student.
With her good family background, pretty and clean clothes, and an adorable, quiet personality, she was very popular at school. Every day, classmates followed her home to do homework together. At such a young age, she’d already become the leader of the kids.
Ji Xiu was extremely satisfied.
His daughter deserved to be loved by everyone.
To ensure his daughter could continue living such a carefree, affluent life, he looked at the savings that had shrunk considerably over the years and embarked on the path of entrepreneurship.
He remembered one lifetime where he’d become a hidden tycoon through venture capital, controlling hundreds of billions in assets.
In this life, the domestic market was only just beginning. Becoming a tycoon purely through investment was impossible. He’d have to work in real industries.
Perfect timing—reform and opening-up. Everything was developing at high speed. Catch the wind, and even pigs could fly—let alone Ji Xiu.
He didn’t even need to think about what to do. Gold was everywhere.
Two months later, Ji Xiu opened his first shop.
It was a fast-food restaurant.
In an era when fast food hadn’t yet become common and even restaurants were rare, his shop began selling so-called Western fast food—hamburgers and fried chicken. It was an instant hit, quickly becoming the most popular spot in North City, the capital.
At that time, there was no McDonald’s or KFC, and no concept that fried food was unhealthy. Office workers and children alike—especially those who rarely got meat at home—loved this simple, convenient food.
But fried chicken and burgers alone weren’t enough. They needed to be paired with “fat kid happy water.”
Ji Xiu didn’t know the Coca-Cola formula. Even in later generations, it remained a closely guarded trade secret.
But he could create his own cola brand.
Legend had it that cola originated from a failed attempt at brewing cold medicine.
Ji Xiu hired people, relying on taste descriptions and various cold medicine formulations. After more than half a year, they developed a drink with a flavor very close to cola and sold it in the shop.
With Ji Xiu’s strong promotion, this knockoff cola swept the capital, becoming beloved by adults and children alike.
Within three months, Ji Xiu recouped his investment and began opening branch stores nonstop.
Every time his cash reached a certain amount, he’d open another branch.
By 1983—a year of great significance—Ji Xiu already owned five hundred fried chicken and burger fast-food stores.
Starting in food service, he became the national leader. Before McDonald’s and KFC even entered the country, he’d already seized the entire domestic market.
By 1987, KFC entered China.
By then, Ji Xiu’s chain had over two thousand locations, and the knockoff cola was a nationwide favorite.
KFC lasted two years before packing up and leaving, abandoning the domestic market.
People accustomed to the knockoff cola couldn’t accept theirs—it didn’t taste “authentic” enough. Several incidents even broke out.
After KFC, McDonald’s entered in 1990—and also failed, retreating in defeat.
Ji Xiu alone monopolized the domestic Western fast-food market.
By 1995, high technology began to rise.
Ji Xiu handed the fast-food business to Li Shiyue and gathered a group of old classmates to enter the internet industry.
Instant messaging had QQ. Search engines had Baidu. Blogs had Sina…
By the turn of the millennium, Ji Xiu had become a domestic internet giant—though profits still didn’t match those of knockoff cola.
Computers hadn’t yet become widespread. Few households owned them. Advertisers were scarce and cautious.
But without question, he’d seized the market. Once computers entered every home, he would become the undisputed king of the internet.
While waiting for that day, Ji Xiu didn’t sit idle.
In 2008, with the Olympics approaching, housing prices would skyrocket. Before that, he bought several plots of land and invested in a real estate company, giving them free rein to develop.
Given the surge in prices, losing money was impossible—absolutely impossible. Even if he bought a building and left it to rot, he wouldn’t lose!
By then, Ji Xiu had dipped his hand into every profitable domestic industry.
He refrained from meddling further. He ate the meat; others could have the soup. People needed room to survive too.
That said, in 2003, when Ji Xiu and Li Shiyue took a break from work to travel and passed through Hangzhou, a middle-aged man surnamed Ma sought him out for investment.
Ji Xiu couldn’t resist and invested in this promising young man, acquiring thirty percent of the shares.
The man was deeply grateful.
Ji Xiu narrowed his eyes with a smile. “It’s nothing. I just appreciate young people like you.”
That year, Ji Xiu was already fifty-four. Calling the man “young” wasn’t inappropriate at all.
Back home, Yingzi was in her room playing games. Hearing them return, she came out pouting. “Dad, Mom, you went traveling again and left me behind. What kind of parents are you? That’s too much!”
Ji Xiu rubbed her head. “My fault. How about Daddy apologizes by buying you a car?”
Yingzi’s eyes rolled. She didn’t accept, instead spreading her palm. “No car. I want money.”
“Not enough money?”
She shook her head. “The forum where I post my novels—the server’s expiring. We don’t have money to renew it. I want to buy it outright and build a better server, so my friends have a place to keep sharing their writing.”
Ji Xiu nodded indifferently. “Alright. Is ten million enough?”
She thought for a moment. “That should be enough.”
Ji Xiu smiled and told his secretary to transfer the money.
His youngest daughter had loved reading since childhood and later majored in literature.
Ji Xiu had more money than she could spend in eight lifetimes. Whether she took over the family business didn’t matter—as long as she was happy.
She liked writing poetry and prose, and made friends on a forum. Ji Xiu encouraged her wholeheartedly.
Now she wanted to buy the forum. He let her.
Later, that small forum transformed into a literary website and even made a bit of money.
Ji Xiu heard about it but didn’t pay much attention—thinking of it as her pocket money.
As for when she later bought several more websites, ran short on cash, and came to borrow from him—Ji Xiu happily agreed every time.
Buy, buy, buy. Whatever she liked, she could buy.
Wasn’t there more than enough money in the family for her little hobbies?
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