Chapter 49 Anomaly Points had all been cleared.

No one expected Autumn Ease—the strongest among them—to be the final opponent. Instead, it was the mysterious Autumn Ease who later moved with GuanPeng that masterminded everything.

That day, he and GuanPeng vanished from this world.

They claimed they’d return to true reality—to wake up completely.

But whether they ever truly woke… no one knew.

Only this was certain: the universe began resetting from that moment.

No more Anomaly Points. No more strange superpowers.

The world returned to peaceful routine. The only difference?

GuanPeng was gone.

Oh, and Autumn Ease never appeared again—neither version existed in reality anymore.

You are Leaf Grace. Or rather, Autumn Ease reborn as Leaf Grace.

Your existence feels like proof that Autumn Ease once walked this earth.

You don’t know if he’ll ever return.

You don’t even know if you want to wait for him…

Everyone else lost memories of the previous universe. Sometimes, loneliness claws at your chest.

But not always. At least familiar faces still surround you.

Today, you turn four.

Though bound by a child’s body, you’ve always been able to speak clearly—just with a milk-sweet voice.

Being a girl? You’ve grown accustomed to it.

This is a seaside villa in a small city. And here…

Are your parents.

At this age, no maids serve the household yet.

Your caretaker is the future head maid—the woman now your nanny.

A gentle breeze brushes your cheek. Above, white clouds drift like fluffy torn-apart cotton.

You truly feel how generously time stretches for children—hours to waste, mornings to stare blankly at the sea without scolding. Adults might even call it "personality."

"Grace, daydreaming by the sea again?" Liu the butler—barely past thirty—settles beside you on the sand. Waves soak his shoes and trousers, but he doesn’t flinch.

"Mhm." You nod without turning. Your gaze stays fixed on the horizon.

This is where you last saw Autumn Ease.

Where you reached for his hand… and missed.

That golden shore. That blood-red sunset.

A memory seared forever in your mind.

"What’s on your mind?" Liu offers a washed seashell. "You’ve always loved spacing out since I met you."

You glance down. The shell is crimson.

The exact shade of that dying sun.

"Someone."

"*Pfft—cough cough!*" Liu chokes on laughter, then recovers. He teases like any adult playing with a child: "Who? A boyfriend?"

"No." You shake your head. "Someone to spend my life with."

Liu’s expression twists—baffled, amused, unsettled. At four years old, you shouldn’t grasp words like these. You shouldn’t carry such weight behind your eyes…

"Alright," he presses gently. "Who was it?"

"He’s gone from this world."

"Life’s long! You’ll find others to trust with your heart." Liu laughs, clapping your shoulder like an equal. The novelty thrills him—and shocks him that you understand.

"Maybe." You shrug, noncommittal. Then pat your stomach. "Uncle Liu… I’m hungry."

"Craving sweets?" His eyes crinkle. "What kind?"

"Anything. Many kinds. Small portions." You state it matter-of-factly, your milk-sweet voice clashing hilariously with the calm tone.

What Liu doesn’t know:

The time that flowed through you before rebirth… would make you older than him.

You’re a true adult in a child’s body.

Even without showing off, adults call you "uncannily wise." While other four-year-olds babble, you murmur profound truths with quiet certainty.

The seaside villa feels like home.

Inside, pastries already wait on the long dining table.

Life as a rich man’s daughter?

Lazy. Effortless.

Everything you desire arrives at your fingertips.

Growing up takes forever.

The adult soul inside you…

Grows impatient.

Yet sometimes, you sink into this slower past.

No smartphones. No flashy games.

But peace reveals hidden joys:

Savoring sweets while reading classics all afternoon.

You’ve reread those masterpieces countless times—

Yet never tire of them.

This is life at human pace. People feel vivid. Every story deserves patience.

Only here do you understand why they’re called *classics*.

Only here do you realize how time has frayed your own soul.

But this old world… lets your heart slow down again.

Years pass. Orphan girls begin arriving at the villa—

Future maids, you know.

All except one: Water Poem.

…

Rain patters against the car windows.

Wang Hui drives. Your father sits shotgun. You curl against your young, beautiful mother—

Not cuddling. Just carsick. Long trips always do this.

"Mom… where are we going?" Your voice is drowsy.

"To the orphanage."

"*Orphanage?*"

Confusion prickles. Father already adopted many orphans. Why more?

Or… is history turning its wheel? Will you meet Water Poem now?

Hope flickers. You drift to sleep.

You wake.

Rain has stopped.

Orphanage gates loom ahead.

Rusted iron.

A wooden sign, letters blurred by time.

Barely legible: *Welfare Institute*.

The yard is tidy. Moss climbs the walls.

A squat building stands at the center.

Children’s voices chant lessons inside.

Father follows a staff member in.

Mother trails behind.

Wang Hui parks the car.

You sit on a bench.

Swinging your legs.

Humming softly.

A post-rain breeze lifts stray hairs from your forehead.

"Leaf Grace?" A soft voice calls your name.

You whirl around. A gentle girl stands nearby.

"Water Poem?" you whisper.

"It’s me."

She remembers.

But how much? All? Or just fragments?

"I’m glad you’re still here…"

"I’m surprised *you* remember too, Grace."

"So we’ll live together again. Finally… someone who knows me."

"There’ll be more."

"*Him?*"

"I don’t know."

Later, your parents select orphans. At your urging, they choose tender, perceptive Water Poem.

They plan a personal maid for you—their young lady—to grow up alongside you.

Finally, someone to talk to.

Finally, someone who knows your past.

The dull world suddenly blooms with color.

Your lonely heart finds its first comfort.

Only regret: Autumn Ease still hasn’t returned.

Life settles into rhythm.

Eight little maids now fill the villa—with you, almost a football team.

Days with girls feel sweet.

Though "maids," they’re still children.

In free hours, they play house, hide-and-seek, or tend flowers.

Simple, pure joy.

The maids grow up with you.

Water Poem is luckiest—your personal maid, she attends school with you.

Home tutors rival teachers, but children crave classrooms buzzing with peers.

They live like nobles in a tiny private class.

Time flies. Middle school graduation arrives.

A familiar day approaches.

You don’t know what comes after.

High school? Or your end?

But this time… a variable exists.

Beside you stand not just your mother—but Water Poem.

"Should be about now?" Water Poem murmurs.

"Mhm. When rain falls… things may change." You nod.

"I’ll handle some errands. Shui Shui, watch Grace for me."

"Yes, Madam."

"I’m not a baby," you mutter, tense yet hopeful.

Above, storm clouds gather.

Will anything happen?

Or… will nothing change at all?