Li Wanran's body was cremated.

For this, Liu Changqing contacted Li Quanzhang, whom he hadn't been in touch with since their parting five years ago.

When Li Quanzhang saw Li Wanran's remains, his face didn't show much sorrow—just a heavy sigh.

It seemed he had already anticipated this outcome.

The funeral arrangements were handled by him.

The funeral was held two days later.

Not many people attended—with Liu Changqing's family included, there were fewer than ten people present.

At the scene,

Liu Zhiyue, the deceased's son, didn't shed tears, but his reddened eyes suggested he had cried privately.

In contrast, Liu Xiazhi wept bitterly.

Though her birth mother might have left her with painful memories, Xiazhi had still idolized her during early childhood. After so many years apart, the fragile girl ended up sobbing in An Yuanyao's arms.

This mother and daughter, unrelated by blood, embraced each other as they wept over the woman in the black-and-white photograph.

Liu Changqing quietly observed this scene.

Several days passed after everything was settled.

The once cheerful atmosphere at home had been affected by Li Wanran's death, never quite returning to how it was before.

Zhou Shiyan returned from school. Seeing Liu Zhiyue in such poor spirits, she didn't say much—just tenderly cared for him.

Meanwhile, Liu Changqing comforted the emotionally distressed mother and daughter alone.

Comforting...

His wife and daughter.

He wasn't doing well either.

That night, he drove alone back to where it all began—

The old house he once lived in.

Years later, this place still hadn't been demolished, stubbornly standing in the city. Liu Changqing used to hire cleaners periodically, but he hadn't done so in the past two years.

When he returned,

The smell in the air reminded him of when he first arrived in this world.

Silently, he walked to what used to be the bedroom.

From the drawer beneath the bed, he pulled out a wooden box he had left behind.

Opening it,

Inside were items left by the original Liu Changqing.

Some old toys he had bought for his children, a divorce certificate, and... a handful of photographs.

The photos showed a younger Li Wanran with the original Liu Changqing.

Even in the pictures, the woman's cold expression made her displeasure palpable.

This starkly contrasted with the original Liu Changqing's radiant smile beside her.

Liu Changqing didn't say anything. He lit a cigarette—his first in years since quitting.

It was as if he was bidding farewell to something.

He flipped through the photos one by one. There were only five, and he finished quickly.

There wasn't much to see—Li Wanran wore the same detached expression in all of them, as if reluctantly tolerating the photoshoot.

Looking at these, knowing Li Wanran had still died, he didn't feel any sense of vengeance fulfilled.

Instead, his chest felt heavy.

Sitting alone on the bed with the photos in hand, Liu Changqing murmured softly to the empty air:

"This wasn't the ending you wanted..."

His voice was barely audible, as if speaking to someone.

After a long silence, he placed the photos on the bedside.

He stood up and walked to the desk, not minding the dust, and traced something with his finger.

This time, Liu Changqing didn't write immediately.

He thought carefully for a long time before hesitantly writing down his parents' names from his previous life.

Staring at the names on the dusty surface—

The names of his real parents.

His parents from his past life.

Liu Changqing, now nearly forty, found it suddenly hard to breathe.

His slightly trembling hand lit another cigarette.

After taking several deep drags, the heaviness in his chest grew worse. Unnoticed, tears had begun streaming down his face.

Realizing this, he wiped his eyes with the hand holding the cigarette.

In a choked voice, he muttered to himself:

"Dad... Mom... Did I do wrong...?"

At this moment,

Liu Changqing, who had never cried in this world,

Broke down for the first time.

He imagined his father scolding him sternly, calling him weak for crying like this.

His mother might have patted his back, chided his father, then comforted him.

He never asked for any of this.

He was forced into this world, forced to inherit this body.

Even though he knew everything, memories of his real parents grew fainter with time.

At his core, he was just a young man who had recently graduated—an ordinary person transitioning from family life to society.

His refusal to forgive Li Wanran stemmed from his belief that he couldn't make that decision for the original Liu Changqing, who had already died.

Because he could acutely sense this body's resentment toward Li Wanran and her children.

The bitterness, the regret...

And that overwhelming love.

Now, in this empty old house,

Liu Changqing dropped all defenses. Like venting, he poured out his grievances to the vacant room.

He desperately wanted to see his parents again.

To eat his mother's cooking, to go fishing with his father in their family car.

But it was impossible.

Two worlds.

Forever separate.

Not caring about the dust, Liu Changqing slumped over the desk, mumbling incoherently.

Then, his phone rang, interrupting his breakdown.

Startled, he wiped his tears, sniffled hard, and answered as if nothing was wrong.

It was his wife.

An Yuanyao.

"Changqing, where are you?... I couldn't find you in the study. Dinner's ready."

"......"

Hearing the worry in her voice, Liu Changqing stayed silent like a fool.

Only when she asked again did he reply:

"Out handling something. I'm coming back now."

After hanging up, he remained seated in the room.

Staring at his parents' names on the desk,

He raised his hand.

And wiped them away.

Then he stood, returned the box to its place—keeping only the photos he had taken out.

Clutching them, he strode out of the room.

Out of... this former home.

Finding an empty lot, Liu Changqing used the nearly full cigarette pack as kindling to burn the five photos.

He silently watched them burn, occasionally adding more paper.

Only when nothing remained did he return to his car.

When he got home, An Yuanyao was waiting anxiously at the door.

Seeing him, she ran over without a word and hugged him tightly.

Liu Changqing, who had just stepped out of the car, nearly stumbled—only the vehicle behind kept him upright.

His body stiffened briefly before he finally hugged her back.

Feeling her warmth.

After a long moment, Liu Changqing slowly closed his eyes.

Softly, he said:

"I'm home."