This was indeed Zhongdu City.

Only—

This was also not Zhongdu City.

At least, not the Zhongdu City his mother had physically visited to view properties.

This was Zhongdu City in some parallel dimension.

Without lingering in the room, Fa Muzhi strode straight for the door. The moment he opened it, the window behind him closed automatically. He casually shut the door, and the small room instantly became a sealed space once more.

Without pausing, he took long strides onto the street—

“Good morning, Uncle Zhang.”

“Good morning, Aunt Li.”

“Good morning, Grandma Sun.”

Exchanging greetings with familiar faces along the way, Fa Muzhi swiftly scanned each person lining the roadside.

These people all existed in another Zhongdu City.

Only in “another Zhongdu City,” Uncle Zhang had passed away long ago, while Aunt Li and Grandma Sun were still here. They even wore the same few outfits they often wore now.

After greeting his old neighbors, he hurried toward the bus stop. Along the way, chunhua petals drifted down, landing on his hair, settling on his black suit, and falling along the same dark trouser legs to the ground. Only to be swept up again by the wind stirred by his footsteps, making another pass through this world.

No wonder Mother Fa didn’t recognize it—Fa Muzhi thought, looking at the heavy blossoms before him. Because even these flowering trees were identical on both sides.

The people were similar, the trees were similar, the seasons were uniform, the climate was consistent, and even the No. 145 bus he rode every day was the same.

Even though the driver was the same, as he hurried to catch the next bus and greeted the driver upon boarding, Fa Muzhi stared at the driver’s lips and wondered.

“Huh? Is there something on my mouth?” Somewhat familiar with Muzhi, today’s driver, Xiao Zhang, hesitated and asked him in a low voice.

“Nothing, sorry.” Shaking his head, Fa Muzhi swiped his card and quickly found his usual seat.

Then, his gaze involuntarily lingered on the back of Driver Xiao Zhang’s head. He thought, there is still a slight difference.

The other Xiao Zhang in Zhongdu City had a large mole on his upper lip, but this Xiao Zhang didn’t. After several attempts at identification, he concluded: the Xiao Zhang here had probably removed the mole using some technological method.

That was the only difference.

Overall, many aspects were identical across both worlds. Yet in countless other ways, they diverged—because people made different choices, their life trajectories shifted slightly or drastically, and so did many things.

Still, the underlying framework remained largely the same. With only occasional visits and extremely limited exploration, Father Fa and Mother Fa found it hard to spot the differences. No wonder they hadn’t noticed until now.

But upon careful reflection, one realizes that hints were present from the very beginning—like Mother Fa’s card suddenly failing during the house purchase.

Whether due to other changes in Father Fa and Mother Fa’s upbringing, the Central City here never had their family, at least not within his limited exploration. In short, though this world had the same bank, and even cards from the same bank looked identical, there was simply no such person as his Mother Fa here. Without her card, naturally, it couldn’t be used to withdraw money.

Later, Fa Muzhi tested this by swiping his work card from this world at the other end—it didn’t work either.

Let’s just… call this his little test of the two worlds.

And the reason he discovered this was because of that person…

Sitting on the bus, arms wrapped around his bag and a basket of eggs, Fa Muzhi was deep in thought when a sudden shout erupted outside the window—a rough, booming roar that made the entire bus turn their heads toward the window—

Then, along with Fa Muzhi, everyone looked down toward the source of the sound. They saw a sports car that had somehow pulled alongside the bus, and a rugged-looking man in the driver’s seat who had rolled down his window and was staring right at them.

It seemed that wild, booming shout had come from this very man.

Honestly, his looks were nothing special, and his voice wasn’t particularly pleasant—it even carried a hint of savagery. But who could blame anyone for noticing? He was driving a super-luxury sports car!

Even if no one recognized the occupants, the sheer appearance of the car screamed extravagance!

Curiosity about the driver of this luxury vehicle seized the passengers. Some scrutinized the car, others studied the man, and for a moment, no one could tear their gaze away.

The driver noticed that Fa Muzhi had spotted him. He gave him a nod, and when Fa Muzhi nodded back in acknowledgment, he finally closed the door. With a stomp on the gas pedal, accompanied by the exaggerated roar unique to top-tier sports cars, he left the bus behind and sped away.

“Wow! Who was that? Was the driver nodding to someone?”

“Damn—what a powerful roar! Does anyone recognize that sports car? How many cylinders does it take to produce that sound?”

“He must have someone he knows in the car. Who could it be?”

Even after the sports car vanished, its echo lingered. The bus passengers whispered among themselves.

Meanwhile, Fa Muzhi kept his eyes on his nose, his nose on his heart, maintaining his original posture as he waited to disembark at the next stop.

Hmm, the person in the sports car was calling out to him. The one shouting wasn’t the car’s owner, but the owner’s driver and bodyguard. The real owner sat in the back seat, usually speaking in short, breathy whispers… no, in soft, quiet tones. Not only was his voice naturally low, but given his temperament, he’d never shout like that on the street.

You ask who that person was?

Hah—the very one who revealed this place was a parallel world to his own, and also another mega-client for his family’s egg business.

When the bus pulled back into the station, Fa Muzhi got off. That flashy sports car hadn’t stopped beside the platform, nor even within sight. Yet Fa Muzhi knew exactly where it was.

He walked a dozen meters in the direction of the bus stop, turned a corner, and sure enough—the sports car was now parked in the adjacent lot. Across from the lot stood a Western-style breakfast spot, tastefully decorated and clearly not the kind of place where you’d grab a takeout breakfast and dash off.

Fa Muzhi glanced at the café through narrowed eyes: the driver from earlier was seated by the window.

He pushed open the café door and walked straight in. Passing the driver, he nodded in greeting before continuing past him. Seated behind the driver, completely out of sight from the window and hidden from outside view, sat the person who had actually “called” him over—the same one who had earlier made him notice the discrepancy between the two locations.

Su Huanliu, the young master of the Su family.

Hmm… It wasn’t influenced by habits picked up from his younger brother over there. Almost the instant he saw that person, he thought: What a young master.

The kind of genuine, elegant, dignified young master that neither period dramas nor soap operas about wealthy families could ever capture.

And right now, that young master was sitting right before his eyes~

“Good morning, Zhizhi~” With jet-black hair and equally inky eyes, the young master was smiling faintly—a reserved smile that didn’t reveal his teeth. As his gaze shifted, the intense black and stark white of his eyes seemed to shimmer with light. When they met yours, it made your heart skip a beat.

His complexion and exposed hands were pale—almost wan, yet not in an unpleasant way. Instead, it evoked a sense of delicate fragility. His posture was upright, though not stiffly formal; rather, the lines of his neck and shoulders were sharp, and his spine never slumped. His naturally slender frame, paired with a dignified bearing honed through discipline. Even sitting casually, he radiated beauty, formality, and an undeniable magnetism.

In short, though a man, this figure before them was exquisite in every detail—his features, his attire, refined to the point of fastidiousness.

Sure enough, no sooner had Fa Muzhi sat down than a handkerchief was offered from across the table. Not some disposable disinfectant wipe or wet tissue you’d find at any convenience store, but a genuine cloth handkerchief. Its design was simple and elegant, embroidered with masculine motifs. As it was handed over by those clean, slender hands, Fa Muzhi could even catch a faint, refined fragrance—whether it came from the man himself or the handkerchief…

He really should have Mulin come learn from this gentleman—recalling the stinky old books that had smothered his face last night, Fa Muzhi thought to himself. Taking the handkerchief from the other’s hand, he wiped his hands clean. Instead of returning it, he folded it neatly and tucked it into his own bag.

“I’ll wash it and return it to you later,” he said to the other.

“Alright.” Without refusal, the other merely glanced across at the bodyguard—pretending he wasn’t there, yet standing ever-ready—who promptly summoned a waiter. Soon, the waiter arrived carrying drinks and food, placing them first on the bodyguard’s table before being passed over to theirs.

Only then did the man smile, placing the perfectly warm food before Fa Muzhi—

“I figured you’d already eaten at home, so I had them prepare a small snack portion plus a coffee for you.”

“Don’t worry—three scoops of milk, one coffee. I know you don’t like it bitter, Fa Muzhi.”

Taking the coffee from him but leaving the pastry untouched, Fa Muzhi stared at him for a moment before saying, “Su Huanliu, I’ve actually wanted to say this for a while—please stop calling me Zhizhi. Zhizhi is my little sister’s name.”

He seemed to pause slightly, yet even his moment of hesitation was graceful. After a pause, Su Huanliu smiled faintly: “I understand.”

Then, with seamless ease, he picked up the pastry Fa Muzhi hadn’t taken and looked up. “A-Zhi, aren’t you having any pastry? Then I’ll help you eat it.”

Fa Muzhi: …

Seeing Fa Muzhi didn’t object, Su Huanliu glanced at him again before elegantly taking a bite of the pastry.

Yes, that was Su Huanliu—a born young master. When he wanted to call someone, he’d never raise his voice. He even hired a driver with a loud voice specifically to call for him when needed. He’d rather not even raise his voice to call a waiter in a restaurant. On anyone else, it would seem affected, but coming from him, it was impossible to hold a grudge… Su Huanliu.

He was also an old classmate.

They’d known each other since forever—same middle school, same high school, even same university, though different departments, yet somehow always ending up with a few overlapping electives.