Wife, who?

Xu Wei had handled a lot of awkward mornings in his life—waking up hungover in strange places, getting kicked out of someone's apartment for forgetting their name, and even running from a few angry boyfriends (not his, obviously).

But this was on a whole different level.

He sat stiffly at the enormous dining table, surrounded by luxury so overwhelming it made his old bar look like a trash heap. Across from him, Liang Zhihao scrolled through his phone, looking every bit the perfect CEO—sharp suit, cold expression, completely indifferent to his surroundings.

At the far end of the table, his new kids sat in complete silence.

His son, Yichen, didn't even look up, stabbing at his food with the practiced irritation of a teenager who wanted nothing to do with the world. His daughter, Xinyi, was hugging a stuffed bear while glaring at her plate like it personally offended her.

The whole room felt like a funeral.

Xu Wei cleared his throat. "Sooo… good morning?"

Silence.

Yichen took a sip of his milk without acknowledging him. Xinyi let out a tiny, almost offended scoff.

Xu Wei sighed. Great. My family hates me.

Fine. If they wouldn't talk to him, he'd take action.

He pushed his chair back and stood up. "I'll cook today."

The room froze.

Zhihao finally glanced up, one brow slightly raised. Yichen outright snorted. Xinyi's fork paused mid-air.

"You?" Yichen asked, voice dripping with doubt.

Xu Wei forced a grin. "Yeah. A wife can't cook for her husband and kids?"

Yichen scoffed. "Since when do you care?"

Ouch. Okay. Fair.

Ignoring the doubt, Xu Wei marched into the kitchen. How hard could cooking be?

Ten minutes later, thick smoke filled the kitchen.

The smoke alarm was screaming.

Xu Wei was frantically fanning the air with a dish towel while trying to pry out the charcoal-black toast from the toaster. "It's under control!" he coughed.

Xinyi peeked into the kitchen, eyes wide. "Are you trying to kill us?"

"No! I'm just… testing the limits of modern technology!"

A second later, the maid rushed in, horrified. "Madam, please step aside!"

In less than a minute, the fire was put out.

Xu Wei stood there, defeated. The maid looked like she wanted to cry.

Behind him, he heard it.

Laughter.

He turned.

Yichen—his grumpy, stone-faced son—was actually laughing.

Not a full laugh, but a sharp, amused chuckle as he shook his head. "Unbelievable."

Xu Wei blinked. Did he… just make the kid laugh?

Zhihao leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold. His face was unreadable, but there was something different in his expression.

"I take it cooking is not one of your talents," he said.

Xu Wei groaned. "Noted."

Xinyi whispered, "This is the weirdest day ever."

After the breakfast disaster, Xu Wei retreated to the master bedroom, desperate to figure things out.

If he was going to survive in this life, he needed to know what kind of person Jiang Yurong actually was.

He dug through photo albums, journals, old messages.

And the more he read, the sicker he felt.

Jiang Yurong wasn't just cold—she was heartless.

She ignored her kids. Completely.

She didn't care about her husband.

Even when Xinyi had been sick for days, Yurong had left the nanny to handle it. Not a single recorded message, not one sign of concern.

Xu Wei sat back, stunned.

"No wonder they hate me."

His gaze swept around the room—a luxurious prison filled with expensive things.

Everything was perfect. The jewelry, the designer clothes, the furniture that looked like it cost more than his entire bar.

But there were no signs of warmth.

No pictures of family trips. No drawings from the kids. Nothing personal.

It was all just empty.

And for the first time since waking up here, Xu Wei felt something unexpected.

Pity.

For the kids. For Zhihao. Even for Jiang Yurong herself.

She had built a perfect life that no one wanted to be part of.

And now, he was stuck cleaning up her mess.

Determined to fix at least one thing, Xu Wei found Xinyi in the living room, curled up with her stuffed bear.

He plopped down beside her, stretching out his arms. "Whatcha drawing?"

She stiffened immediately. "…Nothing."

Xu Wei leaned over. It was a cat. A badly drawn cat, but a cat.

"Looks like a cat," he said.

She hesitated. "It's not done yet."

Xu Wei grinned. "I used to have a cat, you know." Lying. He had once petted a stray cat outside his bar. Close enough.

Xinyi looked at him. "Really?"

"Yeah. Little thing loved to steal my food."

For a second, Xinyi almost smiled.

But then she remembered who he was. Her expression hardened again.

"…Why are you talking to me?" she asked quietly.

Xu Wei hesitated. "Can't a mom talk to her daughter?"

Xinyi's grip on her pencil tightened.

"You never wanted to before."

That one hit deep.

Xu Wei forced a chuckle. "Yeah, well… I'm a work in progress."

Xinyi didn't respond.

She just quietly packed up her things and left.

Xu Wei sighed, rubbing his temples. Okay. This was going to be harder than he thought.

Later that day, while helping the house staff clean, Xu Wei got bored.

So, naturally, he started dancing.

And not gracefully. Stupidly.

He twirled with the mop, did a ridiculous spin, and nearly tripped over a chair.

Behind him, Xinyi giggled.

Xu Wei froze.

She quickly hid her smile, forcing a serious face again.

Xu Wei grinned. Progress.

Then, from the hallway, a low cough sounded.

Xu Wei turned—and locked eyes with Zhihao.

His tall, ridiculously handsome husband was standing there, arms crossed, watching him with an unreadable expression.

Xu Wei froze.

Neither spoke.

Then, slowly, Zhihao's lips tugged up.

Just slightly.

Xu Wei gawked. "Did you just—was that a smile?!"

Zhihao turned and walked away.

Xu Wei grinned. "I SAW THAT!"

That night, Zhihao stood by the window, staring out at the city lights.

His wife was acting different.

The woman who once barely acknowledged their kids was now chatting with them.

The woman who had always been cold was suddenly warm, playful, smiling.

It was suspicious.

And yet…

For the first time in years—his home didn't feel so cold.