---
Lin Feng strolled downstairs, his fluffy ponytail bouncing slightly with each light step, the faint scent of his new forest-flower aura trailing behind him like invisible cologne.
The sun was filtering through the massive French windows in the dining area, casting a golden hue on everything — the polished marble, the wood-and-glass cabinets, and the two figures sitting at the breakfast table.
His father, Lin Guangming, was scrolling through what looked like quarterly finance reports on his iPad while sipping his steaming morning tea he imported from India — the standard 7:45 a.m. routine. On the other side, his mother, Xu Lan, was sitting at the counter in her casual silk robe, one hand flipping through fabric swatches, the other expertly buttering up a slice of toast.
Before he could even say a word, he paused at the bottom step and just… stared.
This scene.
This exact picture of domestic bliss.
It had been so long since he'd seen it. In his last life, mornings were nothing but rushed chaos — quick black coffee, phone calls on speaker, skipping breakfast entirely. There was never time to just… breathe.
But now?
Here was his mom, preparing his toast like she always used to — butter first, blueberry jam second. (Because yes, blueberry was superior. He would die on that hill.)
And there was his dad, completely immersed in his business like always, yet still sitting across from them every morning like clockwork.
It hit him harder than he expected.
He smiled softly, almost involuntarily, and took a deep breath — the air smelled like fresh toast, tea, and nostalgia.
"Good morning, Mom. Good morning, Dad," he said with a gentle voice as he pulled out a chair and sat down.
The effect was instantaneous.
His mother froze mid-toast.
His father glanced up — then choked.
"PFFFFT—!" Lin Guangming spat out his tea like a fountain, nearly dropping his iPad as he slapped his chest.
Xu Lan's butter knife clanged to the table.
Both of them gawked at him like he'd just turned into a unicorn.
"…What?" Lin Feng blinked innocently.
"Who are you," his father asked dramatically, eyes wide, "and what have you done with my son?!"
Xu Lan stood up in disbelief, her silk robe fluttering behind her like a cape as she stepped closer and stared at him. She reached out hesitantly and softly cupped his cheek like he was a ghost. Then she pinched.
"Ow—! Mom?!"
She blinked. Then pinched again.
"Yep, feels real," she muttered, eyebrows furrowed.
Her eyes scanned him head to toe like a forensic expert — his radiant skin, sparkling eyes, flawless face. She stepped back slowly, still dazed.
"Feng'er… is that really you?"
"Yes!" he said, spreading his arms in surrender.
"…You sure you didn't get possessed by some spirit that moisturizes?"
He groaned.
Lin Guangming leaned forward, squinting suspiciously. "You do look like Feng'er. Sort of. But you also look like Feng'er if he went through a K-pop idol machine and came out as a god."
Xu Lan nodded, still not recovered. "Honestly, this doesn't even feel legal. I mean—your skin. Your hair. Your face. You always looked like me, but now? You look like me if I was the main character of a fantasy webnovel."
Feng'er rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, smiling. "I… just washed my face really well today?"
Xu Lan narrowed her eyes. "Don't play cute with me."
Then her gaze dropped lower. She tilted her head.
"Wait a minute," she muttered. "Wasn't that shirt loose on you yesterday?"
Lin Feng's body stiffened.
Her eyes sharpened like a hawk spotting prey.
"And—are those abs for God's sake?!"
"Nope!" Lin Feng said, yanking his shirt and frantically straightening it. "No abs here! Optical illusion! Shadows! Shadows are crazy today!"
Xu Lan turned to her husband. "He's got abs now."
Lin Guangming was still reeling. "And manners."
"And he smells like a spring breeze."
"Did he get taller?!"
Lin Feng slammed his hands on the table, exasperated. "Can we just eat, please?!"
His mother finally sat back down, still squinting suspiciously, her jam knife in hand like a truth detector.
As she started spreading the blueberry jam again, she mumbled under her breath, "Where's the grumpy brat I raised…"
Lin Guangming, still patting his shirt dry from the tea explosion, nodded solemnly. "Our little tyrannosaurus used to stomp around the house like a morning monster."
"I still can stomp," Feng'er said grumpily, grabbing his toast.
They both turned to him.
"There he is," Xu Lan said with a fond smile, finally relaxing.
And just like that, everything settled.
Lin Feng took a bite of the jam toast — still his favorite — and let out a small sigh.
Warm food. Familiar voices. The kind of chaos that felt like home.
Yeah, this was exactly how he wanted to start his new life.
---
As Lin Feng picked up his toast and chewed gracefully — yes, gracefully — his parents stared at him like he'd just performed open-heart surgery on the bread instead of biting into it.
He was chewing with his mouth closed. Slowly. Elegantly. No crumbs flying. No half-masticated food on display. He even dabbed at his lips with a napkin.
A napkin. Voluntarily.
Xu Lan blinked at her husband.
Lin Guangming blinked back.
This wasn't their son. This wasn't even their species.
Lin Feng, blissfully ignoring their gaping expressions, took another small, neat bite and nodded to himself. "Mmm, still the best jam, Mom."
That was it. Something was definitely wrong.
Xu Lan leaned closer to her husband and — without warning — pinched his arm.
"Ow!" Guangming winced. "What the hell, Lanlan?!"
"I was checking if this was real."
"Then pinch yourself!"
"If I pinch myself it'll hurt!"
He gave her a look that said Seriously?!
Meanwhile, Feng'er was calmly cutting his egg with the precision of a Michelin chef.
This was the same child who used to stab pancakes like they owed him money. The same boy who used to shovel rice like he was loading a coal furnace.
So yeah, his parents were more than a little thrown off.
But Lin Feng? He wasn't surprised.
His table manners in his youth had been atrocious. Unholy. A culinary war crime, honestly.
But hey, being the pampered only child of the Lin family, what did you expect? No one had ever scolded him for chewing like a goat or wiping his hands on his shirt.
That is… until he founded his company.
With big money and bigger clients came business dinners — and very quickly, Feng'er realized that if he showed up slurping noodles and licking sauce off his fingers, he wasn't sealing any deals.
So he did what any driven CEO would do: he hired a professional etiquette coach.
A French etiquette coach.
A very hot French etiquette coach.
But more importantly — she was a terrifying beast in heels.
> "You! You eat like a donkey in ze stable!" she would shout in her thick accent, slapping the table so hard his wine would tremble. "Not like a man at ze table! Sacré bleu! I 'ave seen pigs eat wiz more grace!"
She was ruthless.
> "Chew slowlee, you imbecile! You want to impress ze woman, not choke to death like baguette is attacking you!"
> "You cannot eat like zat if you wish to marry ze queen! You zink ze queen wants to watch you lick your plate like a dog? Non!"
Feng'er chuckled inwardly as he picked up his tea cup with a delicate touch.
> "And do not wipe ze face with your sleeve! What are you, a peasant from ze cabbage fields?! Merde!"
It was painful. It was humiliating.
It was also… effective.
After three weeks of verbal abuse, etiquette drills, and near PTSD from silverware arrangement lectures, he finally passed.
And well… after his final "test dinner," which went perfectly?
He did go out for drinks with her.
One thing led to another.
And yeah — he smiled to himself — one thing really led to another.
Her name was Amélie. She was married. Oops. But it had been a hell of a night.
> "Mistakes 'appen," she'd said with a sly smile and a wink the next morning as she lit a cigarette and lounged in the sheets.
He never saw her again — but she'd left a permanent mark on his table manners.
And a very specific memory burned into his brain.
He took another sip of tea, calm and elegant.
Across the table, Xu Lan narrowed her eyes, still watching him chew with the grace of a royal heir.
"Guangming…" she whispered. "Where did our grumpy little dinosaur go?"
Guangming rubbed his sore arm and whispered back, "Probably got abducted by aliens and replaced with a beauty influencer."
"I don't know whether to be proud or file a missing person report."
Feng'er finally looked up and caught them both staring.
He tilted his head. "You guys good?"
Xu Lan jumped and smiled way too fast. "Oh! Yes! Eat, eat!"
Guangming nodded like a malfunctioning bobblehead. "Eat well, son. Very well."
They both watched him chew another bite like he was defusing a bomb with his teeth.
And Lin Feng?
He just smiled.
Warm breakfast with parents. No hurry . No rushed phone calls to attend.No deadlines to meet.
Just blueberry jam toast, pleasant company... And yeah I still say that blueberry jam is better than strawberry jam
---
[End of Chapter 3]