Reborn son-in-law: I Died at your Hands Once

Eviction and Opportunity

The eviction notice was taped to our door at dawn.

“Seventy-two hours?” Lin Yue’s voice cracked as she read. “She’s giving us three days to move or she’ll have us thrown out.”

“She can’t legally do that,” I said, yanking the paper off. “She doesn’t even own this building.”

“She owns the management company. Same thing.” Her eyes were dull from lack of sleep. We’d spent all day yesterday searching for a new place—every landlord mysteriously “just rented out.” Tang Mei’s reach was everywhere.

“We’ll find somewhere outside her network,” I said.

Lin Yue laughed without humor. “That doesn’t exist. My mother knows everyone.”

My phone buzzed.

[Mission Update: Find shelter outside Tang Mei’s sphere of influence. Hint: Old connections remember loyalty. Check your parents’ legacy.]

I froze. My parents’ legacy. Of course, how could I have forgotten?

“Old Zhang,” I muttered.

Lin Yue frowned. “Who’s that?”

“Zhang Wei. My dad’s old friend from the factory. My parents helped his family when his son got sick. He swore he’d repay them.”

“That was years ago,” she said skeptically. “People forget.”

“Not Old Zhang.” I grabbed my jacket. “He bought a small apartment block in the factory district. It’s his property. Your mother can’t touch it.”

Her nose wrinkled. “The factory district? Li Feng, that place is—”

“Beneath you?” I snapped.

She flinched.

“We’re not Tang family anymore,” I said, softer now. “We’re broke and homeless. The factory district is perfect.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yes, you did.” I sighed. “But it’s okay. You’ll adjust.”

We took two buses. The city changed outside the window—steel towers fading into grey blocks, luxury cars into dented bikes, perfume into exhaust.

“I’ve never been here before,” Lin Yue murmured.

“I grew up here,” I said. “Three blocks away. Above a dumpling shop. When my parents died, the landlord kicked me out in a week.”

She went quiet. “I didn’t know.”

“You never asked.”

She had no reply.

When we reached the factory district, I spotted the familiar concrete building—six stories, cracked paint, balconies full of laundry. An old man sat outside, cigarette between his fingers.

“Uncle Zhang!” I called.

He looked up, squinting. Then his face lit up. “Li Feng? You little brat! You’ve grown taller and uglier!”

I laughed and shook his hand. “This is my wife, Lin Yue.”

“Wife?” His eyes widened. “Your parents would be proud.” His smile faded when he looked at Lin Yue’s designer clothes. “You’re Tang Mei’s daughter, aren’t you?”

“I was,” she said tightly. “Not anymore.”

“Disowned?”

“Yes.”

Zhang Wei dragged deeply on his cigarette, studying us. “Tang Mei called me yesterday. Offered fifty thousand yuan to refuse you if you came looking.”

My stomach twisted. She’d anticipated this too.

“Then we won’t bother you, Uncle Zhang,” I said evenly.

“Hold on.” He stood, crushing his cigarette. “Your father saved my son’s life, Li Feng. When that boy was coughing blood, your parents paid the hospital bills. Fed us for months. You think I’d sell my conscience to that witch?”

I exhaled. “Thank you, Uncle.”

He waved a hand. “Fourth floor, no elevator. Fifteen hundred a month. The bathroom leaks and the walls are thin. Your wife looks too soft for that life.”

“I can manage,” Lin Yue said quickly.

He eyed her for a beat, then smiled. “Good. Unit 4B. Don’t thank me—thank your father.”

We climbed four flights of creaky stairs. The apartment was tiny. One bedroom, rusted sink, walls stained from old smoke.

I started to apologize, but Lin Yue beat me to it.

“It’s perfect,” she said.

I blinked. “What?”

“It’s ours. My mother can’t touch it. Chen Hao can’t buy it. It’s small, it smells, but it’s free.” Her eyes watered. “I’ve never owned anything that was truly mine.”

She looked out the window at the brick wall. “All my life, everything came with conditions. This—this is real freedom.”

Something inside me cracked open. In the old timeline, she’d hated this place. Now she smiled like she’d found peace in the grime.

“Let’s start packing,” she said suddenly. “If we move before the deadline, my mother can’t send her goons.”

We spent the day hauling boxes, clothes, and a few pots. By evening, we were sitting on the floor, eating instant noodles because we didn’t have a table.

“Five days until the auction,” she said between slurps. “Eighty thousand yuan is all we have. You sure about this?”

“I’m sure.”

“How can you be?”

Because I’d lived this before. Because I knew what was coming.

“Call it instinct,” I said.

My phone buzzed again.

[Mission Progress: Shelter secured. Tang Mei’s influence neutralized in factory district. New mission available: Prepare for the auction. Warning: Tang Mei will attempt to block your bid. You will need legal representation.]

Legal representation. In the old timeline, she’d had lawyers by the dozen. I had none—until a memory surfaced.

“Lin Yue,” I said, “your university roommate was a lawyer, right?”

“Liu Xia? Yeah. Works at some big firm. We haven’t spoken in years.”

“Would she side with your mother?”

Lin Yue smirked. “Hardly. She called my mother a tyrant once—and got blacklisted from three firms because of it.” Her eyes glinted. “You want to hire her, don’t you?”

“Someone your mother can’t buy or scare.”

“She might not even answer my call. I ghosted her for three years because my mother said she was ‘bad influence.’”

“Try anyway.”

She hesitated, then dialed. The line rang four times.

“Xia? It’s Lin Yue.” Pause. “I know. I know I disappeared. I got married. And disowned. And I need a lawyer.”

Her brows lifted. Then she smiled. “You will? Seriously?”

She hung up, grinning like a child. “She said she’s been waiting years to go against my mother. We’re meeting tomorrow.”

“Perfect.”

We finished our noodles in silence. Through the paper-thin walls, someone shouted in Mandarin about rent, a baby wailed, a TV blared. Chaos everywhere—but it felt alive.

When we spread blankets on the floor that night, Lin Yue whispered, “Whatever happens at that auction… thank you, Li Feng. For letting me choose my life.”

I took her hand. “We’re going to win. Not just the auction—everything.”

My phone buzzed one last time.

[Timeline Update: Major divergence achieved. Lin Yue’s character development accelerated by 2.5 years. Chen Hao’s positioning disrupted. Tang Mei’s control weakening. Current timeline integrity: 71%. The future is now uncertain. Good luck.]

Good.

Because right now,uncertainty means possibility.

And possibility means hope.