Chapter 2: Breakfast in Silk, Smiles in Camphorwood

The scent of warm soy milk and freshly steamed sesame buns drifted along the polished corridors, coaxing Jia Lan from her thoughts like the gentle pull of a silk ribbon. She slid her feet into pale pink slippers embroidered with tiny plum blossoms and tied the sash of her soft cream silk robe before stepping into the hallway.

Morning sunlight streamed through tall, carved lattice windows, spilling golden light onto the mahogany floors. White lace curtains swayed lightly in the breeze, their shadows dancing over the walls like delicate ink wash patterns. Along the corridor stood tall blue-and-white porcelain vases, each holding fresh camellias that breathed a subtle floral sweetness into the air.

The two-storey Jia residence was built in the style of an expansive traditional courtyard home. From her place on the second floor, Jia Lan could see through the open windows to the inner garden — koi gliding beneath a stone bridge, peonies blooming in neat rows, and the graceful arcs of tiled rooftops in the distance.

At the foot of the curved staircase, the family's long-time housekeeper, Auntie Rong, was already directing the morning flow with quiet efficiency, while the cook carried out another tray of steaming bamboo baskets toward the dining hall.

Jia Lan descended the lacquered staircase with measured grace, her silk robe whispering around her ankles. As she stepped into the dining hall, the sight made her pause for a moment.

The rosewood table was long enough to seat the entire family with room to spare, its legs carved with phoenixes and clouds. Every place setting gleamed — fine porcelain bowls rimmed in gold, silver chopsticks resting on embroidered napkin holders, crystal platters piled with neatly sliced watermelon, papaya, and dragonfruit. Bamboo baskets released fragrant steam, carrying the scent of shrimp dumplings, pork buns, and delicate vegetable rolls. A crystal teapot at the center gave off curls of fragrant jasmine-scented steam.

At the head of the table sat her mother, Lin Shunhua. Tall and willowy, with the composed beauty of a Suzhou painting, she wore a pale jade cheongsam embroidered with orchids. Her glossy black hair was swept into an elegant twist secured by a single jade hairpin, and in her hand, a porcelain teacup balanced as naturally as if it belonged there.

"Lan Lan," Lin Shunhua said without looking up from her paper. Her tone was calm but carried the faint authority of habit. "You're up late again."

"I… didn't sleep well," Jia Lan replied as she took the seat beside her mother.

Lin Shunhua glanced at her, eyes sharp but softened by maternal concern. "Nightmares?"

"Something like that," Jia Lan murmured.

Before her mother could press further, a deep voice came from the doorway.

"Our little lady finally joins us," said Jia Chenghai, her father, as he stepped inside.

Tall and broad-shouldered, his presence filled the room without effort. He wore a neatly pressed charcoal jacket over a white shirt, his dark hair combed back to reveal a face that balanced dignity with a hint of playfulness. A newspaper was tucked under his arm, but his attention was entirely on his daughter.

"I thought I'd give the rest of you a head start," Jia Lan said with a small, teasing smile.

Her father's laugh was low and warm. He crossed the room and ruffled her hair gently — a gesture at odds with his stern appearance. "Still sharp-tongued."

One by one, the rest of the family arrived.

Jia Zhen, the eldest brother, stood at a commanding height of nearly 1.85 meters, lean but solid, with neatly styled short black hair. His calm expression carried an air of authority that matched his tailored grey vest and white shirt. At his side, his wife Xu Li, tall and poised, wore a dark blue A-line dress that skimmed her frame elegantly. Her sleek bob framed her face perfectly, and the faint sweep of eyeliner gave her a sophisticated sharpness.

Next came Jia Wei, the second brother, a touch shorter than Jia Zhen but broader in the shoulders. His white shirt sleeves were rolled up to reveal strong forearms, his black hair slightly tousled, his grin relaxed. His wife, Yao Jing, was a burst of warmth in a sunflower-yellow blouse, her wavy hair pinned back loosely, eyes crinkling when she smiled.

Finally, Jia Ruiyu, their elder sister, entered with her husband Zhou Heng. Jia Ruiyu wore a soft beige qipao that emphasized her graceful figure, her hair in a low, neat chignon. Zhou Heng's gentle features and quiet smile made him instantly likable, his arm linked with his wife's in casual affection.

Breakfast began with the pleasant clink of porcelain and the lifting of bamboo lids.

"Lan Lan, you're looking bright today," Xu Li remarked, her eyes glimmering with curiosity.

"I noticed it too," Yao Jing added with a conspiratorial smile. "Have you been using some new beauty secret?"

Jia Lan tilted her head in mock offence. "Why? Did I look dull before?"

The table erupted in laughter, the kind that settled warm in the chest. Throughout the meal, Jia Chenghai slipped an extra dumpling into his daughter's bowl without comment, while Lin Shunhua poured her tea before refilling her own. Every glance, every small act, carried the quiet affection of a family that truly cherished her.

When the plates were nearly cleared, Lin Shunhua set her teacup down. "Go and visit your grandfather. He's on the veranda."

"Yes, Mother," Jia Lan said, rising.

She passed through the courtyard once more, the sunlight glinting off koi scales and warming the pale stone path. The veranda lay shaded under carved wooden beams, a ceiling fan lazily turning overhead.

Her grandfather, Jia Yusheng, sat with his back straight despite his years, dressed in a crisp white tunic and black trousers. The long scar across his brow lent his weathered face a commanding air. Beside him, Chen Meiyun, her grandmother, wore a pale blue silk blouse, her silver hair neatly pinned, her knitting needles moving with steady rhythm.

"Lan Lan," Jia Yusheng said, his voice gravelly. "Still sleeping late?"

"She's young," Chen Meiyun said with a faint smile, her gaze warm. "And she looks especially pretty today."

Jia Lan took a seat between them, feeling the familiar, grounding weight of their presence.

"What will you do today?" her grandfather asked.

"Read for a while, perhaps tidy the art room upstairs," she answered.

A curt nod of approval. "Good. Don't waste your mind."

In the stillness that followed, Jia Lan breathed in the scent of tea and camphorwood, and for a moment, she thought — this life, this home, this family… she would protect it all.

Jia Lan exhaled softly.

A new life, a powerful family, a warm home.

And a cheat system.

If she played this right, she wouldn't just survive this novel.

She'd thrive in it.

To be continued...