The first months of living together after marriage were not glamorous.

  Liu Mengmeng learned that quickly.

  Jason’s house was small, cramped, and always faintly noisy. Pipes rattled when someone used water. The walls were thin enough that voices carried. There were no chauffeurs waiting outside, no quiet offices with floor-to-ceiling windows, no servants who anticipated needs before they were spoken.

  Instead, there were early mornings filled with clattering dishes, cluttered desks stacked with half-finished proposals, and late nights that smelled of instant coffee and exhaustion.

  And Jason’s mother.

  She noticed everything.

  The way Mengmeng folded the laundry—too slow.

  The thickness of soup—too watery.

  The temperature of tea—too hot, then too cold.

  The timing of meals—too early, too late, never right.

  “You shouldn’t use so much oil.”

  “This dish is too salty.”

  “You spent too long at the market—do you think money grows on trees?”

  “Why are you resting? Young people shouldn’t be lazy.”

  The words weren’t shouted.

  They were worse—casual, repetitive, threaded into every hour of the day like background noise that never stopped.

  Mengmeng lowered her eyes and smiled.

  “I’ll be more careful next time, Auntie.”

  Her back bent a little lower each day. Her voice softened. Pride and irritation were pressed flat and buried.

  It’s temporary, she reminded herself.

  Just like last time.

  In her previous life, she had endured far worse before things finally turned around. Compared to that, this was nothing. Jason’s mother hadn’t turned openly vicious yet—because Mengmeng goes to her natal family every now and then. Meaning she has full attention for her parents

  Mengmeng understood the pattern well.

  Once Jason succeeded.

  Once money flowed in.

  Everything would change.

  Respect always followed wealth.

  Jason noticed at first.

  He saw her hands redden from scrubbing vegetables and washing dishes.

  He noticed the faint shadows beneath her eyes.

  He saw how she still prepared his meals carefully before he left for work, and how she waited up late just to make sure he ate properly.

  One evening, after his mother had complained again about dinner, Jason followed Mengmeng into the small bedroom.

  “You don’t have to do all this,” he said, guilt thick in his voice. “She… she talks too much. I’ll say something next time.”

  Mengmeng shook her head gently and smiled.

  “It’s fine,” she said softly. “She’s your mother. I understand.”

  Jason’s chest tightened.

  That night, he held her a little closer than usual.

  But days passed, and “next time” never came.

  When his mother nitpicked, Jason frowned but stayed silent.

  When the tone sharpened, he suddenly found excuses to step out—taking calls, going to the bathroom, checking emails.

  When the atmosphere grew tense, he pretended not to notice.

  At night, though, when the lights were off and the house was quiet, he would pull Mengmeng into his arms.

  “Endure a little longer,” he whispered. “Once I succeed, things will be different. I promise.”

  Mengmeng closed her eyes and nodded against his chest.

  “I know,” she murmured.

  And she meant it.

  She chose her moment carefully.

  Jason came home one evening later than usual, his shoulders heavy, his tie loosened. He barely touched his food.

  Another rejected proposal.

  Another polite dismissal.

  Another “we’ll contact you later” that meant never.

  His mother clicked her tongue from the kitchen.

  “All day outside and still nothing to show for it,” she muttered. “What kind of future is this? before he at least had some salary to bring. ”

  Jason’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

  After dinner, when his mother finally went to rest, Mengmeng cleared the table quietly. She waited until Jason sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at his laptop.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Then she placed her tablet on the table between them.

  “I’ve been thinking,” she said gently.

  Jason looked up, tired. “About what?”

  “About companies,” Mengmeng replied. “About opportunities.”

  She swiped the screen.

  Logos appeared.

  Names.

  Industries.

  Jason frowned slightly. “These are… mid-sized manufacturing and tech firms?”

  “Yes,” she said. “They don’t look impressive now. But they will.”

  He stared at the list, confused. “How do you know?”

  Mengmeng met his eyes, calm and steady.

  “I just do.”

  She didn’t mention dreams.

  Didn’t mention rebirth.

  Didn’t mention a future she alone remembered.

  She only said, “Trust me.”

  Jason hesitated.

  Then nodded.

  “I… I actually don’t know much about writing proposals at this level,” he admitted quietly. “I’ve been following templates, but it feels… wrong.”

  Mengmeng’s expression softened.

  “That’s okay,” she said. “We’ll fix it.”

  She opened a banking app and turned the screen toward him.

  “I have savings,” she said. “Nine million.”

  Jason froze. “Mengmeng—”

  “Half,” she interrupted calmly. “I’ll give you half as startup capital. The other half stays as emergency cash. If you get a big order and need liquidity, you won’t hesitate.”

  His throat tightened. “That’s everything you have.”

  She smiled faintly. “What’s mine is ours.”

  Something hot bloomed in Jason’s chest—gratitude, pride, determination, love all tangled together.

  “I won’t waste it,” he said hoarsely.

  “I know,” Mengmeng replied.

  She leaned closer and lowered her voice.

  “Prepare your proposals carefully. Submit them within two months.”

  Jason blinked. “Two months?”

  “Yes,” she said with quiet certainty. “Five months after submission, one of these companies’ presidents will host a private dinner banquet. Decision-makers will be there.”

  Jason stiffened. “How do you know that?”

  Mengmeng smiled again—small, knowing.

  “I’ll help you get in,” she said. “My father has connections.”

  She paused, then added, “And my mother… she knows how to polish these things. We’ll revise everything together.”

  Jason exhaled slowly.

  For the first time in months, the future felt tangible.

  Achievable.

  That night, as Jason worked late drafting proposals, Mengmeng brought him tea, adjusted the lamp light, and quietly edited documents beside him. From the doorway, his mother watched, lips pursed.

  “Hmph. Putting on a show,” she muttered before turning away.

  Mengmeng didn’t react.

  Let her nitpick, she thought calmly.

  When Jason succeeds, she won’t dare.

  And Zhuqing?

  Mengmeng’s lips curved faintly as she glanced at the glowing screen.

  She won’t be able to jump around for much longer.

  Across the city, Zhuqing’s life followed a very different rhythm.

  University suited her.

  Lectures on pharmaceutical engineering and biomedical sciences didn’t drain her—they sharpened her. She sat near the front, took precise notes, challenged assumptions, and lingered after class to ask questions most students never thought to raise.

  Not for grades.

  For understanding.

  Days passed in orderly cycles. Weeks stacked quietly on top of one another.

  At night, she worked.

  NetherCat continued to generate steady income, streams of capital flowing invisibly through layered accounts. The money didn’t idle. It moved—redirected into shell companies, research entities, and finally into something solid.

  A private laboratory.

  Equipment was purchased in stages, never all at once. Researchers were hired carefully, vetted, bound by airtight confidentiality agreements. No names leaked. No trails crossed.

  Zhuqing didn’t rush.

  She studied medicine seriously—foundational theory, pharmacology, biostatistics, clinical trial design. She went far beyond what her coursework required, not because this world's mission demanded it, but because she understood something fundamental:

  Knowledge that could survive worlds was never shallow.

  Months passed.

  Her first patent application was submitted quietly.

  Then revised.

  Then approved.

  No fanfare.

  The second followed—more refined, broader in application.

  Then a third.

  Novel formulations.

  Optimized delivery systems.

  Targeted therapies designed for scalability rather than prestige.

  Her goal was precise.

  Secure the patents.

  License them.

  First domestically.

  Then globally.

  Build leverage that did not depend on a surname, a marriage, or a single world’s rules.

  During this time, her relationship with the Shaw family changed almost without notice.

  There was no forced intimacy.

  No performative closeness.

  Asmodeus respected her boundaries. She respected his. They shared meals without tension, discussed logistics without emotion, and occasionally exchanged observations that hinted at mutual understanding.

  Sometimes, the silence between them was… comfortable.

  The elders noticed.

  “She’s steady,” one remarked.

  “And can help the family head in future,” another added with quiet approval.

  By the time Jason’s proposals were submitted—exactly two months after Mengmeng urged him to act—Zhuqing already held approved patents and several more under review.

  By the time five more months passed, the atmosphere had shifted.

  Names circulated.

  Rumors settled.

  Certain doors opened without being knocked on.

  That was when the invitations arrived.

  Same banquet.

  Same host.

  Very different envelopes.

  Zhuqing received hers first.

  Highest tier.

  Personally addressed.

  Non-transferable.

  Asmodeus glanced at the seal, then at her. “You should go.”

  “I intend to,” Zhuqing replied calmly.

  After a brief pause, he added, “I’ll accompany you.”

  She didn’t object.

  The Shaw elders didn’t either.

  In fact, they encouraged it.

  “Spend time together,” his grandmother said mildly. “Power shared is power strengthened.”

  Meanwhile, in the Liu household, excitement buzzed like a live wire.

  Jason received his invitation—lowest tier.

  Single entry.

  No guest allowed.

  He stared at it for a long moment, disbelief written plainly across his face.

  “I… I got in,” he said, voice tight with awe.

  Mengmeng smiled brightly, as if she had never doubted it for a second.

  “Of course you did.”

  She lifted her own invitation—secured through her parents’ connections.

  “I’ll attend with my family,” she said gently. “We’ll still be there.”

  Everything was unfolding exactly as she remembered.

  Exactly as it should.

  The night of the banquet arrived at last.

  Crystal lights spilled across polished floors.

  A sea of carefully curated faces filled the hall.

  Voices overlapped in practiced warmth.

  Mengmeng entered on her father’s arm, scanning the room with thinly veiled anticipation.

  Then she saw her.

  Zhuqing walking in with Asmodeus.

  while Shaw family appearing happy with zhuqing as their daughter-in-law

  Mengmeng’s smile stiffened.

  So you made it this far , she thought, eyes narrowing.

  And why is the Shaw family okay with you? they didn't like me let alone take me out on these kind of occasions.

  they should hate you too.

  But it doesn’t matter.

  This time, I know the future.

  Her fingers curled slowly playing with her hair. Then as she smiled as she thought of something new

  I’ll make a fool of you.

  You won’t see it coming.