In the spacious bedroom, warm amber light illuminated the tall man.
He had the proportions of a model—broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and a commanding presence. His handsome features were sharp and refined, while his eyes carried a cold, imposing intensity that made him seem as untouchable as a flower blooming atop a snowy peak.
Mo Junlin sat in a chair.
On the small table before him were two glasses of wine. Beside them sat a bouquet of roses and a note that read:
Drink the wedding wine together. Don’t forget.
Which genius came up with this idea?
Not far away stood a three-meter-wide bed decorated with heart-shaped rose petals. Combined with the red sheets and bedding, the romantic atmosphere had been pushed to the absolute limit.
Mo Junlin stared at the bed, lost in thought.
A voice was speaking in his mind.
“You said you’re a system?”
His brows furrowed.
He had drunk quite a bit earlier that day, and his head was still somewhat foggy.
The sudden electronic voice hadn’t startled him much. After introducing itself, it claimed to be the kind of “system” found in novels.
“Yes, Host. Or rather, former Host,” System 978 replied.
“You’re saying that in my previous life, I divorced my current wife because of Zhao Shuqing? Then spent the rest of my life unmarried, devoted to protecting her? How could I possibly be that kind of person?”
Mo Junlin found it hard to believe.
He had always known exactly what he wanted and prided himself on being rational.
Yes, he had dated Zhao Shuqing before.
But that was ancient history.
Why would he obsess over an ex-girlfriend?
A good horse doesn’t graze on old pasture.
The woman he loved was his current bride.
Qin Ruoyao.
He was satisfied with everything about her.
Her appearance, her figure, her personality—she matched his ideal in every way.
It had been love at first sight, followed by deeper affection with every meeting.
Otherwise, why would he have rushed to marry her within half a month?
Why would he still be thinking about his ex?
Zhao Shuqing was beautiful, certainly.
But honestly, she wasn’t even as beautiful as Qin Ruoyao.
Was he crazy?
That future version of himself simply didn’t feel like him.
“That’s correct, Host.”
“Your world exists inside a novel.”
“Due to the plot’s requirements, you were destined to become the devoted supporting male character who silently protected Zhao Shuqing.”
“When you grew old, you eventually broke free from the story’s control. Instead of leaving your fortune to Zhao Shuqing’s son, you gave everything to your own only son.”
“You realized how absurd the latter half of your life had been—that you had hurt the people you cared about most for the sake of one woman.”
“The plot could no longer control you.”
“As compensation, you’ve been sent back to your wedding night so you can begin again.”
“From now on, the story’s influence can no longer interfere with your life.”
“Congratulations, Mo Junlin.”
“You’ve been given a new beginning.”
“I must now return to the main system to report my mission complete.”
“I wish you a happy life.”
After saying all that, System 978 dumped a flood of memories into his mind.
Without caring whether he could process them or not, it vanished.
Silence filled the room.
Mo Junlin rubbed his temples and slowly digested the information.
Then suddenly—
Click.
The sound of a door opening pulled him back to reality.
A figure in red stepped out.
His bride.
When Qin Ruoyao saw him sitting there in a bathrobe, she visibly jumped.
What a handsome man…
Through the loosely tied robe, she could vaguely make out his toned physique.
She couldn’t help admiring him inwardly.
“Y-you’re still awake?”
She placed a hand over her chest and asked cautiously,
“I thought you were drunk. Where did you shower?”
Mo Junlin looked at the little temptress standing before him.
His breathing paused briefly.
The red slip dress accentuated her graceful figure perfectly.
The sight immediately tested his self-control.
He raised an eyebrow.
“In the guest room next door.”
Qin Ruoyao glanced at the rose petals covering the bed and then at the tall, handsome man before her.
For a moment, neither knew what to say.
Finally, Mo Junlin broke the silence.
“We still haven’t had our wedding toast.”
“It’s getting late. Let’s drink it and get some rest.”
“Huh?”
“Didn’t we already do that during the wedding?”
Qin Ruoyao clearly remembered it.
Though everyone had cheered them on, they had indeed already shared a ceremonial drink.
“And besides…”
“You drank so much alcohol today. Are you feeling alright?”
Hearing her concern warmed Mo Junlin’s heart, though he didn’t show it.
“I’m fine.”
“Most of it was diluted anyway.”
“This is just wine. A little won’t hurt.”
Though embarrassed by how revealing her dress felt, Qin Ruoyao reminded herself that he was now her husband.
Sooner or later, they would have to face this.
Gathering her courage, she slowly walked over.
Mo Junlin handed her a glass.
As he lowered his gaze, he caught sight of her fair skin.
His throat tightened slightly.
The two quietly finished the toast together.
Cough, cough.
Qin Ruoyao accidentally choked on a sip.
“So careless.”
His voice softened.
Holding her face gently with one hand, he wiped away the wine at the corner of her lips.
The intimate gesture caused the atmosphere between them to become increasingly tender.
Mo Junlin’s eyes darkened.
Yet he restrained himself, afraid of frightening her.
His touch made Qin Ruoyao’s heart race uncontrollably.
She stared at him blankly.
Instinctively, she wanted to retreat.
But then she remembered—
He was her husband.
Before marriage, they had already discussed their future together.
Determined not to shy away, she suppressed her embarrassment, rose onto her toes, and wrapped her arms around his neck.
Then she leaned into his embrace.
Mo Junlin was surprised by her initiative.
But holding her in his arms felt wonderful.
He couldn’t help pulling her closer.
The sudden intimacy left Qin Ruoyao flustered.
She instinctively stepped back.
Yet his strong arms refused to let her move away.
The night passed quietly.
Outside the window, even the moon seemed too shy to watch and hid itself behind the clouds.
The next morning.
Several playful rays of sunlight slipped through the curtains and fell upon the sleeping couple.
The scene was warm and peaceful.
On the floor beside the bed lay scattered clothing—a white bathrobe, a pair of men’s shorts, a torn red dress, and several other garments.
The disarray hinted at the passion and excitement of the previous night.
Mo Junlin was the first to awaken.
He had always been disciplined, and his body clock rarely failed him.
As consciousness returned, he recalled everything that had happened.
It all felt like a dream.
A dream in which, two years later, he would divorce Qin Ruoyao despite everyone’s objections.
Regardless of whether they had children.
Regardless of anything else.
The very thought seemed absurd.
Was he really the sort of man who abandoned his responsibilities?
Certainly not.
Only the warmth of the woman sleeping in his arms reminded him that this wasn’t a dream.
How fortunate.
He had been given another chance before making those mistakes.
He would treat her—and their future child—properly.
Not merely with words, but with actions.
The past life.
The novel.
The role of supporting character.
The so-called heroine.
All of it had become meaningless.
Only what stood before him now was real.
Thinking of the child from his memories—a bright, clever, lovable child—his heart softened.
Perhaps that child already existed in possibility.
Perhaps their future had already begun.
Lost in thought, he intertwined his fingers with Qin Ruoyao’s.
The silky softness of her hand made him reluctant to let go.