Clan Building System: I'm not the Protagonist?! - Chapter 308

Chapter 308: 308- The past [1]
Fang Yuan smiled faintly at her before his voice carrying that unhurried calm of his responded.

“Sure,” he said.

“I’ll teach you.”

In fact… I learned this from you, he thought quietly.

Communicating with beasts, that had always been Lin Zhaoyue’s gift.

He recalled those four Saberfang beasts of hers she had as pets. At some point in time before she has them tamed, they were entities he himself didn’t dare face.

Forget 1v4, he wasn’t even confident he could take down the weakest of the bunch back then.

“Yay!” she exclaimed, unable to contain her delight.

At her burst of excitement, the butterflies fluttered in a dizzy swirl, scattering like drifting petals.

“Oops, sorry!” she gasped, covering her mouth.

Fang Yuan chuckled softly.

“It’s fine,” he said.

Her laughter returned, light and fleeting. Then her attention shifted back to the same tiny plant with three slender purple leaves she had admired earlier.

Only now, it had grown taller, a delicate blossom blooming at its tip, glowing faintly with spiritual radiance.

“Look!” she called, gesturing eagerly.

“It actually bloomed! I saw it grow with my own eyes!”

Her words brimmed with wonder and sincere. The way she looked at the little plant, as though it were a miracle and not just a herb, made even the air feel lighter.

For a moment, Fang Yuan said nothing, simply watching the quiet joy shimmering in her expression.

After a few moments, Fang Yuan spoke.

“Zhaoyue,” he said softly. Her name rolled from his tongue with quiet tenderness.

She tilted her head, a strand of dark hair brushing her cheek as her curious eyes met his.

“Mm?”He leaned slightly forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

His gaze was gentle in a way few had ever seen from him.

“Do you have any questions?” he asked.

Her brows knit together, confusion flickering across her delicate face.

“…Questions?” she repeated softly, almost as though afraid to break the stillness between them.

Fang Yuan’s expression remained calm,”Yes,” he said.

“About me, about this place… or about yourself.”

His tone was steady,”You don’t have to be afraid to ask. Whatever it is, I’ll tell you the truth.”

A gentle wind rustled through the herb garden then, carrying the faint fragrance of spirit blossoms and the whisper of unseen qi currents.

The butterflies drifted lazily once more, circling above them in serene silence.

Lin Zhaoyue grew quiet.

The question lingered in her throat, but she hesitated, eyes bright with thought as she gazed down at the rippling water of the fountain.

Tiny motes of light danced across the surface, scattering when the breeze passed through.

She bit her lower lip gently, lost in thought. The soft rustle of leaves filled the pause, mingling with the distant call of spirit birds.

Minutes passed like that, only the sound of flowing water between them.

Finally, she lifted her gaze toward Fang Yuan. Her voice, when she spoke, was soft and steady.

“…What was I like?”

Her fingers curled slightly against her skirt. “Before I lost my memories… what kind of person was I?”

The question hung tenderly in the air, fragile but filled with a deep yearning.

Then, after a heartbeat, she added almost in a whisper, “And earlier today, during the meeting… you said something about irony.”

Her eyes searched his face, cautious but curious. “You said I looked cute and innocent but that it was ironic. Why?”

She blinked as though afraid to seem too forward.

Yet beneath her composure, her expression carried that same honest confusion, that desperate desire to understand what she had lost.

Fang Yuan let out a long breath and, for once, let his body relax.

He leaned back against the soft grass until his shoulders met the cool earth, then shifted until he was lying down completely, one arm tucked under his head.

The faint hum of qi from the herb garden pulsed gently around him, and the sky above shimmered faintly with drifting spiritual light.

“Hmm…” he murmured, gazing upward. “Where should I begin?”

He thought for a moment, then chuckled quietly to himself.

“Well,” he said at last, tilting his head toward her, “you were the most brute-forced woman I’ve ever met in my life.”

Lin Zhaoyue blinked. Her lips parted slightly in disbelief. Her brows furrowed, and she looked half-offended, half-confused, as if unsure whether to protest or wait for him to elaborate.

Fang Yuan laughed softly at her expression and sat up, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m serious,” he said, still smiling.

“If I had to describe her—” his tone softened as his gaze drifted somewhere far away, “—I’d say she was the kind of woman who’d walk straight into hell just to be with the man she loved.”

Zhaoyue’s eyes widened, surprise flickering across her face. Her lips trembled faintly, as if the words stirred something deep inside her that she couldn’t name.

Fang Yuan’s smile deepened, touched by a trace of nostalgia.

“When we first met, we were seven,” he said. “You were being chased by a pack of wolves.”

Her eyes widened even further.

“W-wolves?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

He nodded with a faint grin.

“It felt like a miracle back then, the way we even outran them, honestly. But that miracle didn’t last long as we ended up cornered near a cliff.”

As he spoke, his tone grew warmer, the memories in his mind painting themselves vividly before him.

“You were only seven at that time,” Fang Yuan said softly, a wistful smile touching his lips, “yet you had this calm, almost serene look on your face when you turned to me and said—”

He paused, voice dipping lower, gentle as a sigh.

“‘Did you know, those who died together get reborn together? Thank you for today… I hope we’ll be together in the next life.'”

Zhaoyue blinked, momentarily stunned and then she let out a startled laugh before catching herself, eyes glimmering.