While on the way, Gu Mian's people had already arranged everything for her.
By the time she reached the capital, the most expensive sports car currently available was waiting quietly at the airport, gleaming under the winter sun. It was flashy—perhaps too flashy—but she didn't bother changing it. For once, convenience mattered more than restraint.
The New Year had always been celebrated at the Gu family's ancestral mansion.
That mansion was not merely a residence—it was history itself.
The Gu family was an ancient aristocratic clan that had survived the collapse of dynasties and the birth of modern society. From imperial officials to capital tycoons, their bloodline had never truly fallen.
Gu Yunchen, however, belonged to an orphaned branch—one that had been quietly pushed aside generations ago.
Unlike the main branch that inherited the Gu Corporation and centuries of accumulated power, her father had built everything he owned with his own hands.
From nothing.
Gu Mian knew very well what that meant.
When she drove into the ancestral grounds, she felt no excitement—only a faint, familiar weariness.
There were going to be many people.
Too many.
Cousins she barely remembered, uncles who smiled while counting benefits in their hearts, grandparents who had lived long enough to master the art of polite indifference.
She didn't particularly want to show off, nor did she have the patience to deal with unnecessary social games.
Apart from her father and her siblings—
She didn't truly care for anyone else.
The mansion was already alive with noise. Children ran freely across the stone paths, their laughter echoing between old buildings.
Elderly relatives sat together chatting about the past, their voices low and leisurely.
Somewhere deeper inside, uncles and aunts exchanged pleasantries while quietly calculating alliances, profits, and leverage.
Schemes bloomed like invisible weeds.
Her father had once stood here too.
Alone.
While the main branch inherited the Gu Corporation—a legacy passed down from the old dynasty—Gu Yunchen had received nothing but a surname and a door politely closed in his face.
Yet he had never begged. He walked away, worked until his hands bled, and carved out his own empire.
The Gu family was enormous.
But very few people truly mattered to her.
As Gu Mian's jade gambling business flourished, the people from the ancestral mansion began watching her with careful eyes.
Billions flowed through her hands as if money itself favored her. Some approached her openly, others subtly, commissioning her to acquire high-quality jade for them.
She agreed—only after full payment.
Free?
They must be joking.
Did they really think her top-grade jadeite fell from the sky?
Who did they think was the fool?
Because of this inflexible attitude, many disliked her. They whispered that she "didn't know how to write family," that she was too sharp, too calculating, too cold.
Gu Mian didn't care.
She would never allow herself to be taken advantage of.
In that sense, she was very much like her father.
And she thought that was a good thing.
Back when she had just started her business, her father had even called her personally and said only one thing:
"Don't give anything away for free."
She remembered that sentence clearly.
For this New Year, she had personally carved the highest-quality jadeite for each of her siblings—all twenty of them—and one for her father. Each piece was unique, infused with spiritual energy, polished with patience and care.
She was… a little excited.
When she finally arrived at the mansion, people gathered almost instantly. The sound of the sports car alone drew attention.
She stepped out gracefully, the winter air brushing against her face, her posture calm and unhurried.
Greetings poured in from all directions.
She returned them with a polite smile.
Some of the younger generation stared at her openly, awe shining in their eyes. This cousin of theirs—still so young—was already managing over ten billion yuan.
For many of them, even one hundred million was an unreachable dream.
What kind of concept was ten billion?
It felt unreal. Almost like sorcery.
Then—
Her father came out.
Gu Yunchen froze.
For a moment, the world around him seemed to fade. He stood there, staring at her as if afraid she might disappear if he blinked.
Gu Mian saw him.
And in that instant, everything else lost meaning.
She didn't speak.
She didn't hesitate.
She walked straight into his arms and hugged him tightly.
She really, really missed him.
In her previous life, she had never even gotten the chance to say goodbye.
"XiaoMian…" Gu Yunchen whispered.
"Hmmm," she answered softly, her face pressed against his chest.
"XiaoMian…"
"Hmmmm."
"XiaoMian…"
"Yes, Papa."
His hands trembled slightly as he held her. His voice was choked when he finally spoke again.
"It's good… it's good that you're all right."
Then he laughed, trying to hide the emotion in his eyes.
"Brat, remember your promise. You're staying a week this time."
Gu Mian smiled faintly.
"Dad, don't worry. The entire January is yours."
Gu Yunchen laughed loudly, the sound full and genuine.
"Good… good… good. Papa is really, really happy."
Tomorrow was New Year's Day.
Tonight, no one intended to sleep early.
Later, as Gu Yunchen pulled her to sit beside him, he shook his head in disbelief.
"XiaoMian, you child… you really surprised me. I only gave you two billion, and you turned it into fifteen billion pure profit in less than a year." He clicked his tongue. "What, planning to ascend to heaven?"
The surrounding crowd stiffened.
Fifteen billion.
Pure profit.
Some of them had never even touched one hundred million in their lives.
Envy flashed openly in many eyes, followed quickly by forced smiles and congratulations.
As the noise continued, Gu Mian noticed something else.
Her siblings.
They were watching their father quietly.
Gu Yunchen had always been… distant. He paid off the mothers of his children, arranged nannies, and provided financially.
For women who refused to leave their children—like Gu Mian's mother—he encouraged remarriage.
He had never married.
His youngest child was thirteen.
Thirteen years ago was the last time he had been with a woman.
He didn't want more children.
He didn't want more loss.
Tonight, though, he was different.
He smiled more. His voice was gentler. He even bent down to talk to the youngest children personally.
They were confused—but happy.
At ten o'clock that night, Gu Yunchen finally called Gu Mian to his study.
The door closed behind them.
Silence settled.
He looked at her for a long moment, eyes deep and complicated.
"XiaoMian," he said quietly, "well done with the business."
He paused, then added softly—
"You made me proud."
"Thanks, Dad."
Gu Mian's voice was soft, almost careful, as if she were afraid the words might shatter something fragile between them.
Gu Yunchen sat across from her in the study, the heavy wooden desk separating father and daughter like a boundary that had existed for too many years.
The study smelled faintly of ink, old books, and tea—scents Gu Mian remembered from childhood, from the rare times she had been allowed to sit quietly at the corner while her father worked late into the night.
He did not answer immediately.
Instead, he took a slow, steady breath.
The kind of breath a man took when he had already rehearsed the words in his heart a hundred times—and still did not know how to say them.
"XiaoMian," he finally said, his voice low, "what do you think of the word… apocalypse?"
Gu Mian blinked.
The question came without warning, dropped gently into the air like a stone into still water.
"Apocalypse?" she repeated, brows knitting slightly.
Her heart skipped, just once.
She didn't know why he would ask something like that—but instinctively, she felt this was an opportunity. Perhaps even a necessary one.
She chose her words carefully.
"I think…" she said slowly, "that it would be dangerous. The word itself already spells danger. Destruction. Collapse. Loss."
Gu Yunchen watched her closely, his gaze sharp but restrained.
"And if it were to happen," he continued, as calmly as if discussing the weather, "let's say… a zombie-type apocalypse, for instance."
This time, Gu Mian did not answer immediately.
Her fingers tightened unconsciously against the armrest of her chair.
"Dad," she said, trying to keep her tone light, "why are you asking this?"
Inside, her thoughts were racing.
Does he know something?
Or… does he remember something?
Gu Yunchen leaned back slightly, his hands clasped together.
"XiaoMian," he said solemnly, "come home. No matter how well your business is doing now, times of trouble are coming. Dad wants to protect you."
There was no joking in his eyes.
No teasing.
Only certainty.
Her breath caught.
"Dad," she asked slowly, "is someone planning to unleash a virus?"
"No, no," he replied immediately, shaking his head. "Nothing of that sort."
Her gaze sharpened.
And then—
Like a puzzle piece finally clicking into place, a long-overlooked detail resurfaced.
His excessive gentleness today.
The way he stared at her as if afraid she might vanish.
The way his voice trembled when he hugged her.
Her heart began to pound.
"Dad…" her voice trembled despite her efforts, "you… you've been reborn, haven't you?"
The room went utterly silent.
Gu Yunchen froze.
For a long moment, he simply stared at her—shock, disbelief, and something dangerously close to relief flooding his expression.
"Yes," he finally said quietly. "I have."
He swallowed.
"I've experienced it all once. This time… I just want to protect you. Come home, okay?"
That was all it took.
Gu Mian stood abruptly and threw herself into his arms.
He stiffened for only a second before wrapping his arms around her tightly, as if afraid letting go would undo everything.
Her shoulders shook.
She did not sob loudly—but her tears soaked into his coat, hot and uncontrollable.
Gu Yunchen's eyes reddened.
He knew.
Of course he knew.
After they had cried enough—after the grief that had been suppressed across lifetimes finally loosened its grip—they sat down again, closer this time, no desk between them.
And they spoke.
They spoke of her past life—of awakening her ability, of being hunted, of betrayal, of the institute, of the cold metal tables and the lies disguised as "volunteering."
Gu Yunchen told her of his own past life—of how Gu Ruisheng had gone searching for someone, of the corpse covered by a white cloth, of the wind lifting it just enough for him to see her face.
Of how his world had ended right there.
He told her how Ruisheng refused to leave his side.
How his assistant had sacrificed himself to buy them time.
How rage had hollowed him out until only destruction remained.
Outside, fireworks bloomed across the night sky, brilliant and fleeting.
Inside the study, father and daughter drafted plans to defy fate.
When dawn came, the Gu mansion stirred awake.
After the New Year celebration, Gu Mian followed Gu Yunchen back to his private mansion. There, she distributed the jadeite gifts to her siblings—each piece carefully carved, each infused with spiritual energy.
They were delighted.
She warned them, gently but firmly, to keep them on their person at all times.
She had a hunch.
These jadeites—purified within her space—had formed a subtle connection with it. Her level was too low to understand it fully, but she trusted her instincts.
Gu Yunchen announced that a family meeting would be held in three days.
For the next two days, father and daughter locked themselves in the study.
Plans took shape.
First—the Gu mansion.
Situated on a solitary mountain on the outskirts of the capital, it was the perfect stronghold.
They decided to transform it into a fortress. A medieval-style wall would be built around it—thick, defensible, yet designed so Gu Mian could later store it within her space if needed.
To speed things up, they would hire thousands of workers, compressing construction into under three months.
Temporary, disassemblable buildings would be commissioned as warehouses.
Second—the corporation.
Gu Yunchen would dissolve the megacorp he had built. Problematic assets would be sold off. Supplies would be purchased abroad.
They would not destabilize the country's economy.
They would not become villains in another sense.
All siblings would remain in the mansion for six months of intense training.
Servants with families or relationships would be released generously.
By April—the Gu mansion would enter seclusion.
Fate, however, was not finished playing its game.
On that same night—
Two more people were reborn.
Perhaps the heavens were gambling.
Perhaps only one among many would take the right step.
One of them was named Tang Guo.
He lived in Q Province, U City.
He, too, possessed a space ability.
Unlike Gu Mian, his ability had not mutated—but just like her, his space retained its size from the moment of his death in his previous life.
In his last life, Tang Guo was not a good person.
But he wasn't truly bad either.
He was an opinionated young master, prone to tantrums, careless with the feelings of others.
That carelessness cost him his boyfriend.
The man—Xiao San—was not officially his partner. Tang Guo had been too busy sulking, too busy being selfish, to notice the quiet loyalty beside him.
By the time he learned what loss truly meant, eight years had already passed into the apocalypse.
Four more years followed—years of hunger, fear, and regret.
In the twelfth year, zombies flooded the capital.
He died among the last humans alive.
His final wish—
Was to make amends.
To no longer be useless.
It seemed that, sometimes, even the heavens listened.
And far away, under the same winter sky—
Fate had begun to turn again.