Tiny footsteps padded across the marble floor.
Wu Zixuan's pajama hems trembled around his ankles as he walked straight to Mu Xiao, tears pooling so quickly they glazed his lashes.
He clutched the edge of Mu Xiao's trousers with both hands.
His voice was a whisper cracked by grief. "Is… is my father really dead?"
Mu Xiao's throat tightened. He lowered himself until their eyes were level and answered with gentle honesty. "Sadly… yes."
The dam broke. Zixuan burst into sobs that shook his small frame. Even the usually impassive Steward Zhang flinched at the raw sound.
Mu Xiao scooped the child up and settled him on his lap. One hand rubbed slow circles between the boy's shoulder blades while the other shielded the trembling head against his chest. Hot tears soaked through his white shirt, but he didn't move.
Between gasping cries, Zixuan's words tumbled out:
"My dad died… It's all because of me. Everyone who loves me dies. Mommy said I'm bad luck. Am I… unlovable?"
Every servant in the hall froze. Steward Zhang's eyes misted. Mu Xiao felt something sharp twist behind his ribs.
He cupped the boy's cheeks, forcing those wet eyes to meet his. "Absolutely not. You are very lovable, Zixuan. Everyone in this house adores you. Grand-pa Wu asks every day when he can come visit you."
The child's sobs softened to hiccups. "R-really?"
"Really." Mu Xiao's voice held a smile. "And I love you most of all."
Zixuan blinked, hope dawning like sunrise. "You… love me?"
"Of course," Mu Xiao said without hesitation. "Very, very much."
A shy smile broke through the tears. The boy rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands. "Then… I love Uncle Mu very much too."
Mu Xiao's answering smile was gentle and fierce all at once. He thumbed away the last tear tracks, then glanced at a nearby maid. "Bring breakfast for Young Master Wu—something warm and easy to eat."
Minutes later a tray of congee, steamed egg, and fruit appeared. Mu Xiao fed Zixuan patiently, praising each obedient bite until color returned to the child's cheeks and the room felt a little less cold.
Somewhere in the back of Mu Xiao's mind, the system chimed:
Villain blackening value –5 % → 20 %
But outwardly, he focused on the small hand gripping his sleeve—proof that a frightened heart was starting to trust again.
.
.
.
A week slipped by in a blur of legal paperwork and midnight arrangements, until the day of Wu Yiheng's funeral arrived.
At Old Master Wu's insistence, the service took place on the Wu clan's ancestral grounds—a quiet courtyard surrounded by moss-stained stone walls and ancient camphor trees. Noon sunlight slanted through the leaves, striping the courtyard in gold and shadow.
Wu Zixuan stood in front of his father's oak casket, tiny hands clenched at his sides, head bowed so low that tears pattered onto his polished shoes. The scent of sandalwood incense and lilies clung to the still air.
Behind him, Mu Xiao rested a steadying hand on the boy's shoulder.
A throat cleared. The Wu family steward stepped forward and bent to whisper, "Third Master Mu, Old Master Wu wishes to see you. Would you follow me, please?"
Mu Xiao inclined his head. Then he knelt so his eyes met Zixuan's reddened ones.
"Little Zixuan, Grandpa Wu needs a word with me. I'll be back very soon, all right?"
The child's fingers twitched to grab his sleeve, but he remembered his mother's scoldings about being "clingy." He swallowed and nodded instead.
Mu Xiao offered a reassuring smile, brushed a tear from the boy's cheek, and followed the steward across the courtyard.
The moment his tall figure disappeared behind a row of bamboo, vultures scented weakness.
Four older cousins—boys and girls between nine and ten—sidled toward Zixuan. Their parents watched from afar, lips curling in muted amusement. No adult intervened.
One cousin seized Zixuan's wrist. "Come with us, bad-luck brat."
They dragged him behind a thicket of camphor trees where no mourners could see. Dry leaves crunched underfoot. Zixuan's heart hammered.
"D-devil."
"Demon who ate his own dad."
"Unlovable curse."
Each taunt landed like a stone. Zixuan's tears returned, hot and fast. "That's not true! I didn't— I'm not—"
The tallest boy—clearly their ring-leader—snorted.
"Everyone who loves you dies. Your mom ran away, and now your dad's in a box."
Zixuan's voice trembled but he clung to hope. "Uncle Mu loves me! He said so—he… he saved me!"
Smirks rippled through the group. The leader stepped close, lips brushing Zixuan's ear, and whispered something only the two of them could hear.
Wu Zixuan's eyes went wide—so wide they seemed to swallow the forest's green.
.
.
.
Meanwhile,
The private mourning hall smelled of sandalwood and dust.
Old Master Wu knelt before a life-sized portrait of Wu Yiheng, tears streaking down his lined cheeks. He pounded the floor with a trembling fist.
"First my wife, then my eldest, and now my second son— all because of that wench Yu Qiran! She eats my children alive!"
Just inside the threshold, Mu Xiao and the Wu-clan steward stood rigid, neither daring to interrupt the patriarch's grief-stricken tirade.
At last, Old Master Wu turned. His gaze locked onto Mu Xiao, and fury melted into desperate need. He set the framed portrait on a side table, then lurched forward and wrapped Mu Xiao in a crushing embrace.
"Mu Xiao—my child—avenge your brother!" His voice cracked. "Find evidence against that woman, Yu Qiran. Punish her for Yiheng's death!"
A crisp notification chimed in Mu Xiao's mind:
[Hidden Plot • Part 1 Unlocked]
Kiwi's cool voice followed.
Host, you have triggered the Wu-family secret branch. Prepare for new information.
Mu Xiao collected himself. "Yes, Old Master. I will investigate."
The patriarch released him, wiped his eyes, and shuffled to an ornate drawer built into the altar table. He produced a small iron key, unlocked the compartment, and withdrew a slim, emerald-green diary sealed with an old-fashioned clasp.
He pressed the diary into Mu Xiao's palms. "Guard this—and guard my only heir, Wu Zixuan. Do not forget the promise."
Mu Xiao bowed, masking the chill crawling up his spine. "Understood. I know my place, and I will not break my word."
Old Master Wu's expression softened—half pride, half possessive triumph. "Good. You may go."
Mu Xiao offered another respectful bow and slipped out, grateful for the distance.
The door had barely closed when the Wu-clan steward stepped closer to the patriarch, voice low.
"What if this pawn of yours decides to rebel, Old Master?"
A slow, cold smirk curved across the elder's face.
"He wouldn't. And if he tries… he will be brutally discarded."
.
.
.
Kiwi's holographic form flickered above Mu Xiao's shoulder, digital fur standing on end.
Kiwi (internal): Scan complete… What in the—
The system cut itself off, as if it had almost sworn.
Mu Xiao slid the emerald diary into system space, expression unchanging. So that's only the first layer, he thought, a private smirk curling behind his poker-faced eyes.
Kiwi: "Host, that diary holds enough dirt to bury half the Wu clan. But you said there's more?"
Mu Xiao (internal): You'll find out soon.
A shrill notification sliced through their conversation:
[ALERT] Villain blackening value +10 % → 30 %
Both system and host stiffened.
Mu Xiao: Locate Zixuan—now!
Kiwi: "Ping received. He's behind the east camphor grove—secluded quadrant."
Mu Xiao strode down the corridor, Kiwi projecting a faint green arrow in his peripheral vision. Voices grew clearer: a ring of older cousins jeering while a small boy stood trembling in the center.
"Uncle Mu will throw you away," one sneered. "Nobody loves a curse!"
Zixuan's eyes were wet but defiant. "N-no! Uncle Mu won't abandon me!"
They closed in, chanting: "Abandoned… abandoned…"
A cool baritone sliced the air.
"Since when do a handful of brats decide who gets discarded?"
The children froze. Mu Xiao's figure emerged from the trees, his gaze like winter glass. In one smooth motion he lifted Wu Zixuan into his arms.
He looked back at the ring of bullies, voice icy enough to frost stone.
"Unless your families wish to be erased from the Wu registry, disappear."
Terror trumped bravado; the kids scattered like frightened sparrows.
Only then did Mu Xiao soften, smoothing Zixuan's hair. "I'm here. You're safe. I will never abandon you."
The boy's sobs dwindled to sniffles. Mu Xiao settled him against his shoulder and carried him toward the exit gate, determined to leave the ancestral compound behind.
Halfway down the lantern-lined path, a small voice murmured near his ear:
"Uncle Mu… are you adopted by the Wu family—?"