Feng Yiqiu was lounging at home, scrolling through his phone. He realized transmigration had its perks—this new world offered plenty of high-quality locally produced novels, movies, and games. Thanks to cultural imports from a previous successful transmigrator, the local entertainment now suited his tastes perfectly. So far, he’d already found plenty of mental sustenance.

He tapped away at a mobile MOBA game reminiscent of Honor of Kings from his past life. Naturally, it was one of Li Yu’s imports—and ironically, developed by none other than Feng Mingdong’s own company.

“Transmigration really is a wonderful thing…” Feng Yiqiu stretched lazily. For someone carefree and adaptable like him, becoming a soon-to-be high school student wasn’t hard to accept—especially when he’d landed the life of a winner, blessed with a naturally handsome face. Sure, his features leaned a little feminine, and even *down there* was a tad delicate—but minor details. As a pragmatist, he didn’t mind.

The only real headache was Xiao Ju. The young tomcat, newly hitting puberty, radiated restless energy anyone could see. Left unchecked, he might just become a runaway.

The click of keys at the door made Feng Yiqiu tense—but relaxed when a square-jawed man entered. Feng Mingdong. His current father.

*Him…?* Feng Yiqiu thought. Strange. The diary said Feng Mingdong never came home before eight or nine. Yet it wasn’t even four. Had he changed?

“Dad, you’re back,” Feng Yiqiu said, mimicking the original’s tone from the diary.

“Mm.” Feng Mingdong set down his bag. Both were men of few words. He hesitated, then reached out and gently ruffled Feng Yiqiu’s hair. “Work was light today. Tomorrow’s Sunday—anywhere you’d like to go? Dad’s free. It’s been ages since we had a family outing.”

Feng Yiqiu blinked. This warm, attentive man felt nothing like the diary’s description. And… being patted on the head by a grown man? Awkward.

“Uh… I’ll just rest at home tomorrow,” Feng Yiqiu said, eyes flickering. “My head’s been aching lately…”

Feng Mingdong fell silent, sank onto the sofa, and scrolled his phone absently. Unease prickled Feng Yiqiu’s chest. *Did I say something wrong?*

Dinner passed in eerie silence. Afterward, father and son sat stiffly on the couch, the living room thick with quiet.

“Meow~” Right on cue, Xiao Ju—the ever-reliable mood-setter—let out a hormone-charged cry, claws scraping restlessly against the scratching post.

“Guess Xiao Ju’s due for neutering,” Feng Yiqiu remarked.

Feng Mingdong’s eyes glinted faintly. After a pause, he asked carefully, “Our house is big… What if we find him a mate? Neutering strips him of his manhood. Isn’t that cruel?”

Feng Yiqiu nearly rolled his eyes. *Rugged outside, tender within—classic gentle giant.* “It’s for his good. One quick procedure, and he’ll live healthier, longer. With me caring for him, how could he be unhappy?”

“But how do you know that’s what *he* wants? Maybe he just wants to stay whole. Long life or short—maybe it doesn’t matter to him.”

Feng Yiqiu faltered. “I… I’d choose health and longevity. Xiao Ju might feel down a few days after, but he’ll bounce back. We’re doing this for him. He’ll understand.”

“Alright. Dad supports you.” Feng Mingdong set down his phone, took a deep breath. “Come. Visit your mom with me.”

He unlocked the always-locked bedroom door. Inside, the bed was slightly tousled yet spotless. On the vanity sat not a mirror, but a woman’s photo. Her smile held a gentle curve, dimples soft at the corners—her face bore a strong resemblance to Feng Yiqiu’s. His gaze briefly snagged on her figure before snapping away. A small placard read: *In Loving Memory of My Late Wife, Qi Manzhi.*

*So this is… my mother?* Feng Yiqiu took a slight, deep breath, guilt flickering for that fleeting thought.

Feng Mingdong wiped dust from the vanity, then patted Feng Yiqiu’s shoulder. “Talk to her. Keep her company.”

Truthfully, Feng Yiqiu had no memory of her. The diary mentioned her scarcely. Yet staring at this woman—a character who, in his own story, existed only to die early—a quiet resolve stirred. *I’ll live well as your child. I’ll see this world for you.*

“Dad, I’m heading out.” Feng Yiqiu closed the door softly and retreated to his room. Top priority: finish the original’s diary.

Alone in the memorial room, Feng Mingdong traced the portrait’s cheek with trembling fingers. “Zhi… I promised to raise our child healthy and happy. I wasn’t a good father before—I thought material comfort would spare him our pain.” He swallowed. “But I swear I’ll protect *her*. As long as *she* stays safe… I’ll have no regrets. You’d still support me, right? And I hope Yiqiu moves on someday…”

In his room, Feng Yiqiu shivered. A cold prickle raced down his spine. He rubbed his nose absently. *Why do I feel like something bad’s about to happen?*