The pain came first.
It started in her chest — sharp, unbearable, spreading through every nerve until it felt like her lungs were tearing apart.
Liang Yue tried to scream, but no sound came out. Her vision blurred; lights flashed in and out. A car horn echoed, then another crash followed. Something heavy pinned her down, and for a moment, she thought she heard her own heartbeat slow.
"Someone call an ambulance!"
"Is she breathing—? Hurry!"
The voices faded, and the world around her turned silent.
Her last thought was simple.
So this is how it ends…?
Her lips moved, barely. "God… please… don't let me disappear like this."
Then everything went dark.
When she opened her eyes again, she was lying on something cold and hard. Her throat felt dry, her head heavy, and her whole body hurt.
A strange smell filled the air — damp, smoky, and unfamiliar.
The ceiling above her wasn't white like a hospital's. It was dark wood, full of cracks and old stains. A dim yellow light flickered nearby from what looked like a candle lamp.
"What… is this place?" she whispered, her voice hoarse.
She tried to sit up, but pain shot through her shoulder. Her breath caught. The movement pulled at her skin, and the burning sensation made her gasp aloud. She reached up instinctively — and froze when her fingers touched her cheek.
The surface wasn't smooth.
It felt rough and uneven, like thick scars.
She turned her head toward the mirror across the room — an old bronze mirror resting crookedly against the wall. The reflection that stared back at her wasn't her own.
The girl in the mirror had long, tangled black hair and pale lips. One side of her face was beautiful — soft features, long lashes, and clear eyes. The other side was burned, the skin twisted and uneven. Her neck and arms were thin, covered in fading bruises.
Liang Yue blinked.
Her heart pounded faster.
"This… this isn't me."
Panic rose in her chest, but before she could think, something else hit her — flashes of memory, sharp and fast, like a knife cutting through her mind.
A girl's laughter.
A woman crying.
A man shouting in anger.
The smell of smoke.
The feeling of poison burning her stomach.
And then — darkness.
Liang Yue clutched her head, groaning. The flood of memories grew clearer, forming words, faces, and names that weren't hers.
"Liang Yue… daughter of the Liang Clan… abandoned child of the main family…"
The pain in her skull was almost unbearable, but the meaning was clear enough.
She hadn't only survived.
She had reincarnated.
Her breathing became shallow. She stared at her scarred reflection, unable to look away.
"So… I died," she whispered, her voice shaking. "And I woke up in someone else's body…"
A faint wind blew from the half-broken window beside her, carrying the scent of rain and soil. The room was small — barely furnished with a wooden bed, a cracked table, and a chest pushed against the wall. The air felt cold, neglected.
She pressed her trembling hands together and looked down. A small silver pendant hung around her neck — the same one she had worn in her past life. Its surface glowed faintly under the candlelight.
At least one thing had followed her here.
Before she could think more, soft voices echoed outside the thin wooden door.
"Did you hear? The cursed one woke up again."
"Again? I thought she'd finally died this time."
"Her father should've thrown her out long ago. She brings bad luck to everyone."
The laughter that followed was cruel and casual. Liang Yue's fingers clenched tightly around her blanket. Her chest hurt — not from fear, but from a deep, quiet rage.
So this is her life. This body's life.
Hated by her own family. Poisoned. Beaten. Left to rot in a forgotten room.
A sharp knock startled her.
"Miss Liang," a woman's mocking voice called through the door. "The clan head wants to see you. Try not to make a scene this time."
Liang Yue said nothing, but inside she steadied herself.
If she was truly alive again, then she wasn't going to waste this chance. Not by crying. Not by being weak.
The woman who came to escort her was a middle-aged servant wearing a green robe. Her expression showed open disgust. She looked Liang Yue up and down and snorted.
"You're still alive. Hmph. Guess the poison wasn't strong enough."
Liang Yue met her eyes quietly. "Lead the way."
The servant frowned, annoyed by the calm tone. "You really think you still belong in this house?"
Liang Yue didn't answer. She followed in silence, her bare feet brushing against the cold stone floor. The house around them was grand — wide courtyards, red pillars, tiled roofs, and silk lanterns — but she could tell at once which part belonged to her: the dark, unkempt corner far from the main hall.
As they walked, whispers followed her. Servants paused in their chores, staring. Some laughed. Others looked away, pretending not to see her.
"Still alive, huh?"
"Poor thing… no, maybe it's better if she dies. Saves the clan some shame."
"She really does look cursed…"
Liang Yue kept her eyes forward, pretending not to hear. Inside, she repeated silently: Stay calm. Don't react. Watch. Listen.
They reached the main hall — a large room filled with light and noise. Inside sat the head of the Liang Clan — her father, Liang Shen — dressed in a rich dark robe, sharp-eyed, proud, and cold. Beside him was his wife, Madam Su, a beautiful woman in elegant silks. Their daughter, Liang Mei, sat next to her mother — bright, smiling, and wearing the expression of someone who already thought she had won.
Liang Shen looked at her as if she were dirt on his shoes.
"So you're still alive," he said. "You never die easily, do you?"
Liang Yue bowed slightly, her hands clasped in front of her. "Father."
"Don't call him that," Madam Su said sharply before Liang Shen could speak. "A father needs a daughter worthy of the name. You've done nothing but disgrace this family."
Liang Mei covered her mouth with a small laugh. "Mother, don't be so harsh. She doesn't understand shame. Everyone already knows about the scandal."
Liang Yue frowned faintly. "Scandal?"
Liang Mei's eyes sparkled. "Oh, you don't remember? You fainted in a stranger's arms in the servant quarters last week. Some say you drugged yourself to get attention. Others say—" She leaned closer with a smirk. "—you tried to seduce one of Father's guards."
Liang Yue froze. Her memories of the original body confirmed it — it had been another setup. She had been poisoned, dragged somewhere, and left there to be seen by others. Everything was planned.
Liang Shen slammed his hand against the armrest. "Enough. Whether she did it or not, she has already embarrassed us. We can't let this continue."
Madam Su lowered her eyes with a sigh that sounded rehearsed. "Then what do you plan to do, husband?"
"I've already decided." Liang Shen's voice was like ice. "We'll end the engagement with the Lin Clan immediately. And to make sure this disgrace doesn't stain us again… she will marry the fool from the Mo family."
The room fell silent. Even Liang Mei blinked in surprise, then quickly smiled again.
"The fool from the Mo family?" Madam Su repeated with a smirk. "The one whose mother was a prostitute? The one who can barely speak?"
Liang Shen nodded coldly. "It's fitting. Trash marries trash."
Liang Yue's chest tightened. She stared at the man who was supposed to be her father — the man whose blood ran in her veins. The pain that flickered through her heart turned into something else — a quiet, steady flame.
"You want to send me away to die," she said softly. "That's what this is."
Liang Shen's expression didn't change. "If that's what heaven decides, then so be it. At least your death will bring peace to this house."
Madam Su's lips curled. "You should be grateful. The Mo family agreed to take you despite your… situation."
Liang Mei tilted her head. "You'll make such a pair, Sister. The useless daughter and the village fool. How romantic."
Liang Yue met her sister's gaze calmly. "You're right," she said, her voice quiet but sharp. "We'll make a perfect pair. Both of us thrown away by people who think they're gods."
Liang Mei's smile froze.
Liang Shen frowned. "Enough. Take her back to her room. Prepare the carriage. The ceremony will be tomorrow at noon."
"Yes, Clan Head," the servant said, bowing low.
As Liang Yue was pulled away, she glanced one last time at the grand hall — at the family that wasn't hers anymore. She memorized every face. Every voice. Every smirk.
One day, she thought, you'll all kneel before me.
That night, back in her small, broken room, the moonlight spilled through the window. Liang Yue sat on the edge of the bed, her body weak but her mind awake.
She looked at the pendant around her neck. The faint glow hadn't faded since morning.
"Why am I here?" she whispered. "Did You really send me back?"
No answer came, but somehow she felt it — a warmth deep inside her chest, faint but real. It wasn't spiritual energy like the cultivators spoke of in her memories. It was something cleaner, calmer — like faith itself.
She pressed the pendant to her heart and took a deep breath. "I won't ask for revenge. I'll earn it myself. Just… stay with me, please."
The candle beside her flickered once, and she smiled faintly.
When the door creaked open, she quickly tucked the pendant under her collar.
The servant entered again, carrying a folded white robe. "The clan head's orders. Wear this tomorrow for the wedding."
Liang Yue took the robe and nodded. "Thank you."
The woman blinked, clearly not expecting politeness. She frowned. "You don't understand, do you? This isn't a wedding. It's exile. You'll both die out there."
"Then I'll die clean," Liang Yue said simply, setting the robe aside.
The servant shook her head. "You really are strange." She left, muttering under her breath.
When the room was quiet again, Liang Yue lay down and stared at the ceiling. Her body was weak, but her mind was sharper than ever.
She remembered her past life — all the chances she had wasted, all the times she had stayed silent when people hurt her. She thought of the girl whose life she had taken over — innocent, helpless, beaten down since birth.
"This time," she whispered into the dark, "I'll live for both of us."
Morning came fast.
The sound of footsteps and voices outside her window woke her. She dressed in the plain white robe and brushed her hair as best she could. Normally red is the colour for a bride but she was given white to wear as the colour of funeral cloth just to mock her. Her reflection looked pale, but her eyes were steady.
When she stepped outside, two guards were waiting. One of them smirked. "The bride's ready."
They tied her hands loosely and pushed her toward the waiting carriage. She didn't struggle. She looked up at the bright blue sky and let the wind hit her face.
So this is how it begins, she thought. Death once. Life twice.
The carriage door shut behind her with a dull thud.