Voices of crying filled her ears.
Waves of scorching heat slapped against her cheeks again and again. Qi Ziyue only felt a nauseating smell of burning flesh rush into her nose. Her eardrums rang violently, and her head felt as if it had been split in two. A dizzy, spinning sensation hit her so hard she almost collapsed.
Something was wrong.
She quickly bit her tongue. The sharp pain cleared her head a little, and she immediately pulled a gas mask from her space and put it on. Then she took out a fire extinguisher and sprayed wildly at the nearby flames.
While spraying, she ran toward the direction of the child’s crying.
More precisely, she ran toward the little boy.
All around was a sea of fire, mixed with pitch-black ash. Apart from flames and thick toxic smoke, there was nothing else.
Surviving even a single second in such an environment was already sheer luck.
For example—this so-called “little villain” who in the original story called her “mom.”
Right now, he was outside the burning zone. His room had not yet collapsed into flames, and there was still a window he could escape from.
But he didn’t run.
Instead, he was trying desperately to rush back into the fire to save her.
Just that alone made Qi Ziyue feel that this child wasn’t as monstrous as the original story claimed. At least… he knew to come save his mother.
In the original plot, this child had extremely high intelligence and a talent for business. He was also obsessively fixated on the female lead. Because the neighboring little girl once helped him when he was young, he remembered her for life.
If he had been properly raised… even without repaying filial piety, just his ability to remember kindness alone, he shouldn’t have grown into someone who would kill his mother.
She even planned to let him grow up and handle business while she just lay back and enjoyed life.
Thoughts flashed through her mind as she rushed forward, holding her overpowered “cheat-level” fire extinguisher, spraying wildly at the flames until she reached the boy.
Her entrance was so shocking that the little boy—his face blackened with soot, leaving only a pair of bright eyes—stood frozen like a statue, staring blankly at her.
She knew she looked ridiculous right now.
But seriously—this was a fire. Who taught him not to run?
“Are you stupid? Run!” she shouted.
After finally escaping the burning area, Qi Ziyue grabbed the child and ran toward the only window.
But the moment she got outside, she froze.
Damn it. It was pitch black outside. Still nighttime. Not even close to dawn.
No wonder the original story said this fire wiped out the entire family in an instant—her parents, grandparents, uncles, all buried in the flames. Only one branch of the family, who happened to be out, survived.
And even then, they later became hostile, driven by hatred and greed, constantly hunting the child down.
A story summed up in one word: tragic.
Two words: absurd.
In short, the entire villain’s life was built on suffering—endless tragedy, intelligence, revenge, and ultimately being killed by his own father for the “greater good.”
Qi Ziyue ran while holding the child, repeatedly telling him, “Don’t be afraid.”
When they reached about ten meters away from the fire, she pulled a strong flashlight from her space and handed it to him.
“Stay here. Mommy will go save people.”
The fire hadn’t spread everywhere yet. There was still time to wake people up and avoid the disaster in the original plot.
But the moment she turned around, something grabbed her legs tightly. She couldn’t shake it off no matter how hard she tried.
She looked down.
The boy stared at her with a gaze full of hatred.
It was like a stormy ocean—calm on the surface, but ready to explode with violence at any moment.
Only a flash, but she saw it clearly.
Children don’t know how to hide emotions.
This boy truly hated his family. Hated them enough to want them dead.
No wonder, in the original story, his entire family died here—he only wanted to save his mother.
Time was running out.
She didn’t have time to teach him.
“Stay here. Don’t run. I’ll be back after I save them,” she repeated.
“No… no,” the child stammered stubbornly.
He was too young to speak in full sentences.
Qi Ziyue frowned deeper. At nearly five years old, he still couldn’t form proper sentences. Even three-year-olds spoke more clearly.
Everything about him felt… wrong.
She pushed the thought aside, leaned down, and kissed his forehead.
“Be good. I’ll come back.”
The kiss startled him. He immediately let go—then, seeing her about to leave, he suddenly turned and clung to her leg again with all his strength.
So what do you do when a child refuses to listen?
In her mind, there was only one answer: discipline.
“Spare the rod, spoil the child.”
Qi Ziyue turned him over, pulled down his pants, and smacked him several times.
“You can’t beat others, so learn to behave!”
“Stay here! I’ll be back after saving them!”
Only after being firmly “disciplined” did the child finally loosen his grip.
She grabbed her heavy-duty fire extinguisher and ran toward the main courtyard, shouting, “Fire! Fire! Wake up! Put it out!”
“Mom! Dad! Brother! Fire!”
She didn’t even know the layout of the house, so she could only run toward where the flames weren’t yet spreading.
She banged on doors and shouted again and again.
Fortunately, the family woke up quickly. People rushed out half-dressed, chaos erupting everywhere—water buckets, shouting, crying children.
While everyone fought the fire, she ran back toward the original ignition point.
There she saw the little boy carrying a basin of water, trying to help put out the fire.
She took the basin from him.
“Go away, kids shouldn’t be here.”
But he didn’t respond and immediately ran off again.
Soon, she stopped thinking about him and returned to spraying the fire with extinguishers from her space—carbon dioxide, dry powder, everything.
Thanks to online firefighting tutorials, she even felt like she could write a guide after this.
Time passed.
She didn’t know how many extinguishers she used, but eventually, the flames began to die down.
Footsteps rushed toward her.
“Yueyue! Yueyue!”
A young man’s voice.
Before she could react, the basin was knocked over, and she was pulled into an embrace.
“You’re alive… that’s good.”
Bright lights illuminated the scene—flashlights and torches.
An old, angry voice followed.
“Bring them to the main courtyard.”
From the tone, Qi Ziyue guessed—this must be the original father of the body she had possessed: Qi Xingjun.