The renovation project for Cloud Peak One officially began.
Mo Qingli rejected all proposals from top designers and picked up the drafting pen herself.
What she intended to design was not a lavish showroom, but a home.
A real home for her, Lu Chenyuan, and Lu Shi'an.
Every line, every material, was personally selected by her.
The fortress that once symbolized Lu Chenyuan’s cold, restrained, and even reclusive nature was gradually deconstructed and rebuilt under her pen.
The icy metal wall decorations were removed and replaced with warm, smooth walnut paneling.
The vast, echoing living room was redesigned, with one entire wall transformed into floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
On the other side was a children’s play area for Lu Shi'an, covered with thick woolen rugs.
Lu Chenyuan didn’t interfere with any specific design choices.
He simply draped a soft blanket over her shoulders when she worked late into the night and handed her a cup of warm milk at just the right temperature.
Quietly standing behind her, his steady presence offered silent support.
During the renovation, Lu Chenyuan’s family moved downstairs, settling into Mo Qingli’s old apartment.
Little Lu Shi'an grew day by day under his parents’ loving care.
He could now pull himself up unsteadily, gripping the sofa railing for support.
His favorite daily activity was watching his mother spread out large blueprints on the floor and sketch with colored pencils.
Then, he would stretch out his chubby little hands, babbling as he tried to grasp the flowing, wondrous lines and colors in his eyes.
The noise of the outside world seemed to fade away in this small haven.
The chief strategy consultant of Abyss Dragon Technologies now devoted his most important tasks to precisely calculating his son’s milk formula ratios and repeatedly testing the absorbency of different diaper brands.
The iron-willed queen of the Mo Group found her greatest joy in planning the placement of every electrical outlet in their new home and agonizing over the sweet dilemma of choosing curtain colors.
They reveled in it all, savoring every moment.
That afternoon, golden sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Mo Qingli watched her son diligently practicing crawling in his play area and suddenly spoke up.
“Chenyuan, let’s go back to the Lu Family Manor.”
Lu Chenyuan was reading a report on the latest global trends in the new energy market.
At her words, he looked up, his expression unsurprised.
Some things ultimately required a proper farewell.
“Alright,” he replied gently.
Mo Qingli met his gaze and added, “Let’s bring Shi'an along.”
Let him meet the man referred to as his grandfather by blood.
And let him see the place where his father had once grown up.
Lu Chenyuan nodded, warmth rising in his chest.
Qingli always understood—quietly, perceptively—the deepest, unspoken thoughts in his heart.
Truthfully, Lu Chenyuan held no affection for the Lu Family Manor or Lu Mingye.
Yet, as if remnants of his former self’s memories lingered, he still felt something different about that place.
And for Lu Shi'an, it was time to meet his grandfather.
The grudges and grievances of the older generation had little to do with him.
The next day, a sleek black "Boundless" sedan glided smoothly out of the city and onto the private road leading to the western suburbs.
Outside the window, the towering skyscrapers gradually gave way to sprawling greenery and distant rolling hills.
Lu Shi'an sat in his custom safety seat, his bright, curious eyes fixed on the scenery whizzing past.
Mo Qingli sat beside him, gently shaking a rattle to capture his attention.
Lu Chenyuan drove in silence.
An hour later, the car slowed to a stop before the grand gates of a stately manor.
The black wrought-iron gates, adorned with the ancient Lu family crest, stood solemn and imposing under the sunlight.
This was the Lu Family Manor.
Once one of the most prestigious estates in Jingzhou.
The gates slid open soundlessly.
The car proceeded down a long tree-lined driveway.
On either side stretched manicured gardens, fountains, sculptures, and endless lawns.
Everything was just as grand and magnificent as Lu Chenyuan remembered.
And just as cold and lifeless.
The car halted at the fountain plaza in front of the main residence.
The elderly butler, Uncle Yu, was already waiting at the entrance.
When he saw Lu Chenyuan step out of the driver’s seat, Uncle Yu’s face lit up with barely contained emotion.
“Young Master, you’ve returned.” His voice trembled slightly.
To Uncle Yu, the young master before him seemed almost unfamiliar.
Lu Chenyuan hadn’t stepped foot in the manor since moving out—nearly seven or eight years had passed.
“Uncle Yu,” Lu Chenyuan acknowledged with a nod.
To his former self, this old butler who had watched him grow up was one of the few warm memories in this cold estate.
Mo Qingli, holding Lu Shi'an, also exited the car.
Uncle Yu’s gaze immediately fell upon the small child, his face softening into a genuine, tender smile.
“This must be… the little young master.”
“Yes, his name is Lu Shi'an,” Mo Qingli replied with a smile.
“Ah, good, a fine name,” Uncle Yu murmured approvingly.
“The Master is in his study,” he finally added in a hushed tone.
Lu Chenyuan and Mo Qingli exchanged a glance.
“We’ll go in ourselves, Uncle Yu. You may attend to your duties,” Lu Chenyuan said.
He took Lu Shi'an from Mo Qingli’s arms, cradling him carefully.
Then, they ascended the cold marble steps.
They passed through the vast, echoing foyer, where their footsteps reverberated, and walked down the long corridor lined with priceless paintings.
Everything was impeccably maintained—spotless, gleaming.
But it was too quiet.
Lu Chenyuan suddenly paused in the second-floor hallway.
“What is it?” Mo Qingli asked softly.
“Let me show you around,” he said, his gaze sweeping over the rows of closed doors on either side.
The rooms of Lu Chenxiao, Lu Chenyan, and Lu Chenjin now stood empty, though still cleaned daily.
As they passed Lu Qianqian’s room, they noticed the door was slightly ajar, revealing a glimpse inside.
Pink drapes, oversized plush toys, a walk-in closet filled with luxury brands.
“Qianqian’s room.”
Mo Qingli took in the space overflowing with indulgence, recalling the girl from the video—surrounded by children, laughing brightly under the sun.
“She found something that suits her better than princess dresses,” Mo Qingli murmured.
“Yes,” Lu Chenyuan agreed.
He closed the door, sealing away those memories once more.
Finally, they reached the other end of the hallway.
There stood a door identical to his brothers’, yet somehow more imposing.
“That was my room,” Lu Chenyuan said.
He pushed it open.
The room’s aesthetic was strikingly similar to the original Cloud Peak One—minimalist furniture, every item placed with precision.
The only trace of personal identity in the room was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, densely packed with hardcover books on economics, finance, and management—not a single leisure read in sight.
This didn’t feel like a young man’s bedroom.
It was more like… an exhibition hall for precision instruments, a place of discipline so severe it bordered on asceticism.
Mo Qingli stepped inside, her fingertips lightly grazing the cold surface of the desk.
The room held no trace of youthful restlessness or warmth—only the weight of responsibility and solitude.
She glanced at Lu Chenyuan, who was holding Lu Shi'an, his expression now softened with quiet composure.
Then her gaze returned to the stark, empty space around them.
It was as if two versions of him from different times had overlapped in this moment.
She didn’t speak, only moved closer to smooth the slightly crumpled collar of his shirt where he held the child.
Then she took his hand again.
“This place used to be lively,” he said, turning to her.
“There was my mother’s occasional sighs, my brothers’ bickering, Qianqian’s playful whining.”
“Now, they’ve all left.”
“Mother has moved on. My brothers are shining in their own fields. Qianqian—she’s on the other side of the world, chasing her dreams.”
All that remained here was the fading shadow of an era, and dust.
transmigrates into the world as the sect master of the Heavenly Yan Sect, which is on the verge of being wiped out. He binds a system that grants him cultivation power based on the number of disciples he has: for each disciple, he automatically gains a year's worth of cultivation every single day! Take one disciple: every day he gains 1 year of cultivation power. While others struggle through a year of bitter training, he gets the same just by sleeping through a single night. Take ten disciples: every day he gains 10 years of cultivation power. Foundation Establishment, Core Formation, Nascent Soul—he breezes through all bottlenecks without lifting a finger. Take one hundred disciples: every day he gains 100 years of cultivation power. Even a Soul Transformation Venerable before him can’t survive a single blow. Take ten thousand disciples: every day he gains 10,000 years of cultivation power! With a wave of his hand, he topples empires. With a single step, he crushes the sacred grounds of the universe. ... While others fight tooth and nail for secret techniques, Lin Yan casually hands out Nascent Soul-level cultivation manuals as beginner textbooks. While others strain to find talented recruits, Lin Yan opens his doors to anyone—so long as they’re human. In just three short years, the Heavenly Yan Sect went from a backwater sect made up of three crumbling huts to a sacred land that every cultivator under heaven would kill to enter. ... One day, otherworldly demon gods invade, with a million demon soldiers pressing down upon the realm. Lin Yan, yawning, rises from his lounge chair and glances at the system panel: [Current Disciples: 1.28 million] [Daily Cultivation Increase: 1.28 million years] He waves his hand casually, and the countless demon soldiers are reduced to ashes in an instant. “So noisy… interrupting my fishing.”
rowess are unmatched, commanding a million-strong army! Yet, the Emperor wants to depose him for the sake of a false prince? Hold on, are you throwing me into some female-oriented romance plot? How can I tolerate this? With a grand wave of his hand—the Nine Clan Extraction Technique! Slander the Emperor? Very well, all of you shall die! ... The False Prince: "Although I am not the biological son, Father and Mother love me more. The throne should be mine!" The Female Lead: "Qin Xiao, you are the Emperor, and I am a commoner. If you wish to marry me, you must abdicate. Otherwise, you will never have me!" The Empress: "After we divorce, you must give me half the empire!" The Transmigrator Consort: "You worthless Emperor, why should I kneel to you? All men are equal—I advise you to be kind!" The Great General: "The enemy general is my childhood sweetheart. For her sake, I willingly abandon the frontier defenses!" The Retired Emperor: "Although Yu'er was adopted, I prefer him. Qin Xiao, you should abdicate and let him become Emperor!" ... Very well! So this is how you want to play? Facing this twisted world of female-oriented tropes, Qin Xiao grins and raises his hand to unleash—the Nine Clan Extraction Technique! I am the Emperor. Why would I bother reasoning with you? Seal the gates! Leave none alive!
] This is a dark fantasy-themed dating simulation game. The main gameplay involves containing various monster girls and investigating the truth of a world shrouded in mist alongside your companions. However, due to his love for the dark and bizarre atmosphere, Luo Wei ended up turning a dating game into a detective mystery game. Women? Women only slow down his quickdraw! To Luo Wei, the female leads in the game are more like tools to perfectly clear levels and squeeze out rewards. For Luo Wei, flirting with every girl he meets and then discarding them is standard procedure. Worried about characters losing affection points? No need. With his maxed-out charm stat, Luo Wei is practically a "human incubus." A little psychological manipulation and those points come right back. It's a bit scummy, but the paper cutout heroines in the game won't actually come at him with real cleavers. However... Luo Wei has transmigrated. He's accidentally entered the second playthrough of this game. His past actions have caused all the girls to transform into terrifying yanderes. Due to the game's setting, most of the heroines he once contained are "troubled girls." Obsessive, twisted, mentally unstable, all aggressive yanderes... The type who will kill you if they can't have you... Luo Wei wants to cry but has no tears left. "I really just want to survive..." In short, this is a story of battling wits and engaging in a love-hate relationship with yanderes.
e bizarre and supernatural had descended. The previous emperor was a thoroughgoing tyrant; no longer satisfied with human women, he had set his sights on a stunningly beautiful supernatural entity. He met his end in his bedchamber, drained of all his vital essence. As the legitimate eldest son and crown prince, Wang Hao was thus hastily enthroned, becoming the young emperor of the Great Zhou Dynasty. No sooner had he awakened the "Imperial Sign-In Intelligence System" than he was assassinated by a Son of Destiny—a classic villain's opening. The Great Zhou, ravaged by the former emperor's excesses, was in national decline. The great families within its borders harbored their own treacherous schemes, martial sects began to defy the imperial court's decrees, and border armies, their pay and provisions in arrears, grumbled incessantly against the central government. Fortunately, the central capital was still held secure by the half-million Imperial Guards and fifty thousand Imperial Forest Army who obeyed the court's orders, along with the royal family's hidden reserves of power, barely managing to suppress the realm. As the Great Zhou's finances worsened and supernatural activities grew ever more frequent, the court sat atop a volcano. Ambitious plotters everywhere dreamed of overthrowing the dynasty, and even some reclusive ancient powers emerged, attempting to sway the tides of the world. At the first grand court assembly, the civil and military officials nearly came to blows, fighting tooth and nail over the allocation of fifty million taels of silver from the summer tax revenues. The spectacle opened Wang Hao's eyes—the Great Zhou's bureaucracy was not only corrupt but also martially proficient, a cabinet of all-rounders. Some officials even had the audacity to suggest the emperor release funds from the imperial privy purse to address the emergency. Wang Hao suddenly felt weary. Let it all burn.
