Chapter 172 Day 4 of Transmigrating into a True and False Young Master Novel

Chapter 172: The Fourth Day of Transmigrating into a Novel about a Genuine and Counterfeit Young Master

When he returned to the opulent, European-style villa bathed in warm golden hues, the sunset had already spread across the sky.

An Yi had barely pushed open the heavy door when a woman’s voice, tinged with both surprise and a hint of playful reproach, rang out: “Xiao Yi, you’re back? How did it go meeting Xin Ou today? Why didn’t you invite him in for a seat?”

It was Lin Wan, the mother of the household.

She looked remarkably young for her age, nearly fifty yet showing few signs of age. Dressed in a set of high-quality, light apricot-colored loungewear, she got up from the expensive velvet sofa in the living room, greeting him with an eager smile.

Behind her, Song Chengye, who had been flipping through a financial newspaper in the main seat, also looked up, his eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses meeting An Yi’s: “Xiao Yi, you’re back.”

They both knew An Yi had been invited out alone by Gu Xinou today. They remembered how, when Xiao Yi had left the house that morning, he had been so delighted, so full of anticipation, and had even shared the good news with them.

An Yi didn’t pause, only offering a casual, indifferent response: “Mm, it went fine.”

Unwilling to elaborate, he changed his shoes and prepared to head straight upstairs.

Just then, soft footsteps came from the spiral staircase.

A young man walked down, wearing a simple white cotton T-shirt and light khaki pants.

He appeared to be in his early twenties, his skin was pale, as if untouched by sunlight, his features clean and delicate, his temperament as mild as a gentle stream.

Or rather, he was like a delicate, well-tended plant bathed in soft light – fresh and pure.

This was Song Xinghai, the protagonist (the submissive role) in the original novel, and the one who, through a twist of fate, had occupied the original host’s identity for twenty years.

Song Xinghai saw An Yi standing at the entrance, his steps faltered, almost imperceptibly. Then he quickly forced a somewhat timid, yet effortfully natural smile, his voice soft: “An Yi, you’re back.”

An Yi’s gaze lingered on his face for a moment.

So this was the catalyst that had driven the original host to madness with jealousy, to lose his balance, and ultimately to his destruction?

He certainly looked pure and harmless, exuding an aura that easily elicited pity.

An Yi nodded almost imperceptibly in response, his expression still that mask of gentle aloofness.

Lin Wan’s attention immediately shifted. She hurried over to Song Xinghai, naturally taking his arm, her tone full of affection and a slight hint of affectionate complaint:

“Xinghai, you’ve been cooped up in your room all afternoon – aren’t you bored? Come, sit down. Auntie Wang has specially simmered some rock sugar bird’s nest, it’s cooked to perfection. You and Xiao Yi should both have some to nourish yourselves.”

As she spoke, she guided, half-guiding, half-nudging, Song Xinghai to sit on the sofa, as if he were a child in need of careful direction.

After settling Song Xinghai, Lin Wan then remembered An Yi. She quickly turned to beckon him, her smile still warm, but with a strangely deliberate, almost forced quality:

“Xiao Yi, come sit too. Why are you standing around? Come, come, sit next to Mom.” She patted the spot on another single sofa beside her.

An Yi watched this scene calmly.

The natural, undisguised affection Lin Wan showed Song Xinghai, compared to the warmth she offered him – polite, ingratiating, even carrying a faint hint of wanting to make up for something – formed a stark, glaring contrast.

That instinctual physical closeness, that tone of everyday concern, was an instinct she could never replicate when facing him.

No wonder the original host had suffered so much – like a thorn embedded in his heart, festering with each passing day.

He did as she said and walked over, but instead of choosing the seat next to Lin Wan that she had patted, he sat down on a single sofa a little farther away, sinking into the soft cushions in a relaxed pose, exhaling slowly.

Song Chengye put down the newspaper, adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, and looked at An Yi. His tone carried the usual seriousness of the head of the family, but he also tried to inject some warmth:

"Xiao Yi, did your conversation with Xin'ou go smoothly? The Gu family and ours have been family friends for years. Xin'ou is an outstanding young man with great abilities. Although his temperament might be a bit cold, his character and capability are beyond reproach. You young people should get to know each other more and develop some feelings..."

His words were interrupted by Lin Wan. She gave her husband a reproachful look, with a hint of protectiveness: "Oh, Song, why are you saying all this? Let the children handle their own affairs. As elders, we shouldn't interfere too much."

She then turned to An Yi, beaming, her tone even softer: "Xiao Yi, don't listen to your father. He just worries too much. But... Xin'ou is indeed a truly good young man. If you two can get along well and understand each other, Mom will feel at ease, and it will be one less thing for me to worry about."

An Yi listened quietly without interrupting.

He leaned forward slightly, picked up the bowl of warm bird's nest soup that the housekeeper, Aunt Wang, had just placed on the coffee table in front of him. His fair, slender fingers picked up the delicate porcelain spoon and gently stirred the crystal-clear bird's nest.

His thick eyelashes were like two small fans, concealing any emotion in his eyes.

He could clearly feel that Song Xinghai, sitting beside him on the long sofa, had tensed up slightly.

He lowered his head, focusing on the bowl of bird's nest in front of him, drinking it in small sips, sipping it gently, as if trying to curl himself up and minimize his presence.

This silent retreat, sometimes, is itself a sensitive act.

At this moment, Song Chengye, as if remembering something important, cleared his throat and spoke again, his tone more solemn than before:

"By the way, Xiao Yi, let's find a suitable time to change your name. Don't worry about the procedures; Dad will take care of it. From now on, you'll be called Song Yi. What do you think?"

He paused and added, "This will also be a true homecoming."

Lin Wan immediately nodded in agreement, her face showing expectation and a hint of relief: "Yes, Xiao Yi, change your name back, and then you'll truly be a child of the Song family. Your father and I will also..."

She didn't finish her sentence, but the meaning was clear. It was like a ritual marking An Yi's complete integration into the family.

An Yi stopped stirring the bird's nest.

He raised his eyes, calmly scanning the expectant faces of Song's parents, then glancing at Song Xinghai, whose body had instantly tensed and whose breathing had become shallower. Then he spoke softly: "No need."

He paused, and amid the three's suddenly changing expressions, calmly added: "I am An Yi. I have been since I was a child, and I will be in the future."

The air in the living room seemed to freeze instantly.

The expectation and smiles on Song's parents' faces froze, gradually replaced by shock and a hint of hurt.

Lin Wan's eyes reddened almost immediately, her voice trembling in disbelief: "Xiao Yi... are you still blaming Mom and Dad? Blaming us for not finding you earlier? Or... or is there something about the family that you're not satisfied with? Tell us, we..."

She instinctively wanted to reach for An Yi's hand resting on his knee, as if trying to convey apology and comfort through physical contact.

Before her fingers could touch him, An Yi subtly withdrew his hand and picked up the porcelain spoon again, his movements natural and fluid, as if he were simply continuing to drink the bird's nest.

"I don't blame you," he said, his tone still calm. "And I'm not dissatisfied."

Song Chengye's brows furrowed, his tone growing deeper with paternal confusion: "Since you're not dissatisfied, why are you unwilling to change your name?"

"Xiao Yi, we are your biological parents. This is your true home. Changing back to the family name is only natural. If you have any thoughts, just say them directly. We're family; there's no need to hide anything."

An Yi gently placed the porcelain spoon back into the bowl, producing a crisp "ding" sound.

He raised his head, and the corners of his lips curled into a faint smile. However, in his beautiful eyes, there was no warmth, only a clear, cold calmness.

He tilted his head and answered clearly, with an almost innocent tone: "I am dissatisfied with the very idea of having to change my name."