Li Wei woke up abruptly.

Her chest rose and fell sharply as she sucked in a breath, her heart beating so fast that it felt painful. For a moment, she couldn’t tell where she was. Her mind was blank, as if it had been forcefully wiped clean.

Then memories surged back.

The night.

The road.

The truck.

Her pupils shrank violently.

“I… I was hit…”

Li Wei subconsciously tried to move, but her body felt strange. Too light. Too weak. She slowly raised her hands in front of her eyes—and froze.

Her hands were small.

Not just small, but childish. The fingers were thin, short, and soft, without the roughness she remembered from years of work. Her nails were neatly trimmed, pink and clean.

Her breathing grew rapid.

“This isn’t right…”

Her voice startled her even more. It was high-pitched, young, nothing like the calm but tired voice she used to have.

Panic flooded her chest.

Li Wei pushed herself up and looked around. The room was spacious and bright, decorated in warm colors. Sunlight streamed in through large windows, illuminating expensive furniture and a soft carpet beneath her feet.

This was not a hospital ward.

It was not her rented room either.

She stumbled out of bed and ran toward the mirror beside the wardrobe. When she saw her reflection, her mind went completely blank.

A little girl stared back at her.

She looked around nine years old, with delicate features and large eyes that were now filled with fear. Her hair was slightly messy, falling over her shoulders, and she was wearing a simple but high-quality pajama dress.

Li Wei pressed her palms against the mirror.

“That’s… me?”

No.

That couldn’t be her.

She was twenty-three years old. She had grown used to seeing exhaustion in her eyes, not this childish innocence.

Her head started to ache violently.

“I should be dead,” she murmured.

As soon as those words left her mouth, a sharp pain pierced her brain. Her vision blurred, her legs weakened, and before she could call for help, everything around her suddenly turned white.

The White Space

When Li Wei opened her eyes again, she was no longer in the room.

She stood in an endless white space. There was no ground beneath her feet, yet she didn’t fall. There was no sky above, yet the space felt vast and boundless.

It was silent.

Unnaturally silent.

“Where is this place…?” she asked cautiously.

Her voice echoed faintly, then disappeared.

“That’s because this isn’t a real place.”

A soft voice sounded from ahead.

Li Wei stiffened and looked up.

A girl stood a short distance away.

She looked almost the same age as Li Wei—around nine—but her presence felt different. Her features were identical to Li Wei’s, but her eyes were light pink, clear and gentle, without fear or confusion.

They looked calm.

“You’re awake,” the girl said softly.

Li Wei stared at her, her heart pounding. “Who are you?”

The girl smiled faintly, not surprised by the question. “I am Li Wei.”

Li Wei’s breathing paused for a second.

“…Then who am I?”

“You are the one who will live for me.”

Before Li Wei could ask what that meant, the white space began to tremble. Cracks appeared in the air like broken glass, and fragments of light rushed toward her.

She felt her head explode with pain.

“No—wait—!”

Her voice drowned out.

The memories forced their way into her mind.

The first memory was bright.

A hospital room.

Li Wei saw a newborn baby wrapped in soft blankets, crying loudly with all her strength. A woman lay weakly on the bed, her face pale but filled with joy.

“She’s beautiful,” Shen Meilin whispered, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes.

Beside her stood Li Junhao, gripping her hand tightly. His eyes were red, his voice hoarse. “She’s finally here.”

Outside the bed stood a six-year-old boy.

Li Chenyan.

He stared at the baby seriously for a long time before saying, “I’ll protect her.”

The scene shifted suddenly.

A hospital corridor late at night.

The lights were dim.

A nurse pushed the crib forward, her footsteps echoing softly.

Then—

Someone blocked her path.

Li Wei felt her heart clench as the baby’s cries grew louder, then abruptly disappeared.

The next image was dark.

Rain poured heavily.

The baby was left at the gate of an orphanage, crying until her voice became hoarse.

Back at the Li family home, chaos erupted.

Shen Meilin collapsed on the floor, screaming her daughter’s name until she fainted.

Li Junhao used every connection he had, mobilizing people, money, and power to search endlessly.

Li Chenyan stood quietly by the door, his small fists clenched tightly.

Days passed.

Months passed.

Years passed.

The little girl was never found.

The Empty Years

The villa became cold and silent.

Shen Meilin often sat in Li Wei’s empty room, holding tiny clothes that no longer fit anyone.

Li Junhao buried himself in work, his hair turning gray before his time.

Li Chenyan changed the most.

He stopped smiling.

He spoke less.

He grew up quickly.

Relatives began to interfere.

“You can’t keep living like this.”

“Adopt a child.”

“At least continue the family line.”

The pressure became unbearable.

Two years later, they finally agreed.

Xu Yuran

Xu Yuran arrived at the Li family mansion on a quiet afternoon.

She was four years old, dressed neatly, with soft eyes and obedient behavior. She bowed her head politely and called Shen Meilin “Auntie” in a timid voice.

Shen Meilin felt her heart soften.

Li Junhao nodded, trying to convince himself.

But Li Chenyan’s expression remained cold.

“She’s not my sister,” he said clearly.

Xu Yuran smiled obediently, but lowered her head slightly.

Li Wei saw it clearly.

That fleeting darkness in Xu Yuran’s eyes.

The memories moved forward.

At family gatherings, Li Junhao’s elders whispered among themselves.

“Four generations without a girl.”

“She was the only one.”

“How can an adopted child replace her?”

On Shen Meilin’s side, the atmosphere was even colder.

Blood was everything.

Xu Yuran was polite and well-behaved, but she could always feel the distance.

She was inside the family—

Yet never truly part of it.

One year later.

Xu Yuran stood in the living room wearing a new dress.

It was her fifth birthday.

She waited.

But instead of celebration, the family suddenly became busy.

Excited.

Nervous.

“They found her,” someone whispered.

Xu Yuran didn’t understand.

The family left in a hurry.

When they returned, they carried a small girl in their arms.

Two years old.

Soft cheeks. Big eyes.

Li Wei.

The real Li Wei.

The entire household erupted in joy.

Xu Yuran stood silently to the side.

Her birthday was forgotten.

That day, jealousy quietly took root in her heart.

Back to Reality

The memories ended abruptly.

Li Wei felt herself falling.

She gasped and opened her eyes.

The smell of disinfectant filled her nose.

White walls.

A hospital room.

She tried to move and felt pain spread through her body.

She raised her hand.

Small.

Still small.

This wasn’t a dream.

She was no longer twenty-three years old.

She was nine.

Li Wei stared at the ceiling, fear and determination mixing in her heart.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she whispered.

“I’ll live.”

Outside the curtain, hurried footsteps approached.

A calm, cold voice spoke softly.

“She’s awake.”

Li Wei’s fingers tightened slightly.

Her new life had officially begun.

Li Wei lay quietly on the hospital bed.

The ceiling above her was unfamiliar—white, clean, too bright. The faint smell of disinfectant lingered in the air, mixing with the soft beeping of medical equipment beside her.

She didn’t move.

She didn’t dare to.

Because the memories inside her head were not fading.

They were still there—clear, heavy, real.

The white space.

The girl with pink eyes.

The words “You are the one who will live for me.”

Li Wei slowly closed her eyes.

That wasn’t a dream.

If it were a dream, she wouldn’t remember it so clearly. If it were a dream, her heart wouldn’t feel this tight, as if something precious had been placed into her hands without warning.

She was not the original Li Wei.

That fact settled heavily in her chest.

She was someone who had died at twenty-three, reborn into the body of a nine-year-old girl—into the life of another Li Wei.

And she knew everything now.

The original Li Wei’s past.

Her birth.

Her kidnapping.

Her family.

Her place.

A soft rustling sound came from beside the bed.

Li Wei opened her eyes slightly and saw a familiar figure sitting near her.

Li Chenyan.

He looked much younger than the man she remembered from the memories—still a boy, but already tall for his age. His face was calm, but his eyes were fixed on her, sharp and unblinking.

“You’re awake,” he said quietly.

Li Wei’s fingers tightened under the blanket.

She looked at him.

The brother who had never stopped searching.

The brother who had never accepted a replacement.

The brother who loved the original Li Wei more than anyone else.

Her heart trembled.

“Yes…” she replied softly.

Her voice was weak, hoarse from crying—or from screaming in the past she could no longer tell apart.

Li Chenyan stood up immediately and pressed the call button.

“I’ll get the doctor.”

He didn’t ask unnecessary questions.

He didn’t leave her side for long.

That alone made Li Wei’s chest ache.

This love… was never meant for me.

After the doctor left and the room quieted again, Li Wei stared at her small hands.

Nine years old.

The memories showed her clearly—how the original Li Wei had grown up kind, gentle, always smiling. How she had never complained even when bullied. How she had loved Xu Yuran sincerely, calling her “sister” without hesitation.

And how that kindness had been repaid.

Li Wei swallowed.

She finally understood something important.

The original Li Wei didn’t disappear by accident.

Her death—her fall into the lake—had been the breaking point.

That was why she had appeared in the white space.

That was why she had met her.

Li Wei closed her eyes again.

In the darkness, she could still see the girl with pink eyes smiling at her.

“Are you angry?” Li Wei whispered in her heart.

No answer came.

But somehow, she felt a calm warmth spread through her chest.

I’ll live well, Li Wei promised silently.

I won’t let your life be wasted.

Fragments Returning

The next few days passed in a blur.

Doctors said she had inhaled water and fainted from shock. They called it an accident.

No one suspected anything else.

Xu Yuran cried by the bedside, holding Li Wei’s hand tightly.

“I was so scared,” she sobbed. “I thought you wouldn’t wake up…”

Li Wei looked at her quietly.

Her crying was real.

But Li Wei now knows better.

In the memories, she had seen everything.

The push.

The hesitation.

The moment Xu Yuran turned away.

Li Wei didn’t pull her hand back.

She simply smiled faintly.

“It’s okay,” she said softly.

Those words made Xu Yuran relax—but also confused her.

Because Li Wei’s eyes were different now.

They were calmer.

Clearer.

As if she had suddenly grown up overnight.

That night, after everyone had left, Li Wei lay awake alone.

She replayed the memories again and again.

The Li family’s joy when they find their daughter.

The way Shen Meilin cried while holding her.

Li Junhao’s shaking hands.

Li Chenyan’s silent promise.

All of it belonged to the original Li Wei.

And now—it belonged to her too.

That thought scared her.

She wasn’t afraid of living as Li Wei.

She was afraid of betraying her.

“I won’t tell,” Li Wei whispered to the empty room.

“I won’t tell anyone that I’m not you.”

She knew what would happen if she did.

This family had already lost their daughter once.

She wouldn’t destroy them again

A few days later, Li Wei was discharged.

As the car drove through the gates of the Li mansion, she felt her chest tighten.

This place felt familiar.

Too familiar.

She stepped inside and saw the same staircase, the same living room, the same warmth.

Shen Meilin hugged her tightly.

“Don’t scare Mama like that again,” she said softly.

Li Wei froze for half a second.

Then she hugged her back.

“…I won’t.”

Those words weren’t just reassurance.

They were a vow.

A Quiet Resolve

That night, lying in her childhood bed, Li Wei stared at the ceiling.

She finally understood her role.

She wasn’t here to replace the original Li Wei.

She was here to continue her life.

To protect herself.

To protect this family.

And to never let the past repeat itself.

Outside the room, faint laughter echoed—Xu Yuran talked sweetly to Shen Meilin.

Li Wei closed her eyes slowly.

Her lips curved into a calm, unreadable smile.

From now on, she thought,

this life will be different.

Li Wei woke up early the next morning.

Sunlight streamed through the pale curtains, landing softly on her face. For a moment, she lay still, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, listening to the quiet sounds of the Li mansion waking up.

Footsteps.

Soft voices.

The distant clink of porcelain.

This was her home now.

Not borrowed.

Not temporary.

Her home.

Li Wei sat up slowly, placing her small feet on the floor. She walked to the mirror near the wardrobe and looked at her reflection.

A nine-year-old girl stared back at her—delicate features, clear eyes, a face still carrying traces of childish softness.

This was Li Wei.

She raised her hand and touched the glass.

“I’ll live well,” she whispered. “As Li Wei.”

There was no sadness in her voice anymore. Only resolve.

Breakfast Table

Downstairs, the dining table was already set.

Shen Meilin was arranging dishes, her movements gentle and careful, as if afraid of making too much noise. When she saw Li Wei come down, her eyes immediately softened.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked warmly.

Li Wei nodded and walked over.

“Yes, Mama.”

The word came out naturally.

Shen Meilin froze for a second.

Then her eyes reddened.

She quickly turned away, pretending to adjust a plate, but Li Wei saw the way her shoulders trembled slightly.

Li Junhao looked up from his seat, surprise flashing across his face before melting into quiet relief.

Li Chenyan, sitting beside him, glanced at Li Wei sharply.

“You remembered,” he said.

Li Wei met his gaze and smiled gently.

“I didn’t forget.”

She took her seat between her parents.

For the first time, she felt it—

the warmth of being surrounded,

the comfort of belonging.

Xu Yuran came down moments later.

She paused when she saw Li Wei sitting calmly at the table, smiling and chatting softly with Shen Meilin.

Something flickered in her eyes.

But she quickly hid it.

“Sister Weiwei,” she said sweetly, walking over. “You’re up early.”

Li Wei looked at her.

“Yes,” she replied lightly. “I wanted to eat with everyone.”

Xu Yuran smiled wider.

But her fingers curled slightly at her side.

A Brother’s Trust

After breakfast, Li Chenyan stopped Li Wei near the staircase.

“You’re different,” he said bluntly.

Li Wei didn’t deny it.

She tilted her head slightly and asked, “Is that bad?”

Li Chenyan studied her for a long moment.

Then he shook his head.

“No.”

He reached out and placed a hand on her head—awkward, stiff, but sincere.

“As long as you’re safe,” he said quietly, “that’s enough.”

Li Wei’s chest tightened.

This was the brother who had never smiled after losing her.

The brother who had carried guilt for years.

She suddenly stepped forward and hugged him.

Li Chenyan stiffened completely.

Then—slowly—he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Just once.

But it was enough.

Becoming Herself

Days passed.

Li Wei adjusted quickly.

She spoke more.

She smiled more.

She followed Shen Meilin around the house, learning small things—how to arrange flowers, how to brew tea properly, how to choose clothes.

She listened when Li Junhao talked about work, even if she didn’t understand everything.

She waited for Li Chenyan to come home, pretending to read while glancing at the door.

This wasn’t acting.

This wasn’t obligation.

She wanted this family.

And she loved them—honestly, deeply.

At night, she no longer dreamed of the white space.

Instead, she dreamed of warmth.

Xu Yuran’s Unease

Xu Yuran noticed the change more than anyone.

Li Wei no longer cried when her toys went missing.

She no longer panicked when blamed unfairly.

She no longer looked confused or hurt.

Instead, she calmly accepted things—or quietly avoided trouble.

That scared Xu Yuran.

It felt as if Li Wei could see through her.

One afternoon, Xu Yuran hid Li Wei’s sketchbook—the one Shen Meilin had bought her.

She waited.

No crying.

No complaints.

Later, she found Li Wei drawing peacefully with another notebook.

Xu Yuran’s nails dug into her palm.

Why aren’t you angry?

Why don’t you react?

That calmness felt like a mirror reflecting her own ugliness.

And she hated it.

A Silent Promise

That night, Li Wei sat by her window, looking at the moon.

She remembered the original Li Wei’s smile.

“I won’t let her suffer again,” she whispered.

She wasn’t naïve.

She knew Xu Yuran wouldn’t stop.

But this time—

She wouldn’t be defenseless.

She was no longer the gentle child who endured everything silently.

She was Li Wei.

And she would protect this life.