Han Jian opened his eyes and froze. The room was small, cold, and unfamiliar. Sunlight stabbed through thin curtains, making him squint. His head throbbed, his vision blurred, and then reality hit him with a jolt—he was alive again, but this body… this body was all wrong. The reflection in the cracked mirror showed soft features, small hands, and a thin, awkward frame. He wasn't Ling Yuxi anymore.
He pressed his hands to his cheeks, a low growl escaping his lips. "No… this can't be… wait," he muttered, then clenched his fists. He remembered everything: the betrayal, the slaughter of his family, the cold dagger that ended his first life. Rage bubbled inside him, tinged with a thrill only someone who had cheated death could feel. "Finally… revenge," he whispered. "You'll all pay. Starting with the crown prince."
Outside, the streets of the capital were just as cruel as the palace. Han Jian's foster parents criticized his very existence, his sister gossiped with wide-eyed curiosity, and the servants seemed to enjoy tripping him at every turn. "Watch where you're going, Han Jian!" one yelled. "Your father says you're worthless and a disgrace!"
Han Jian smirked, feeling the familiar pulse of his past life's power under his skin—Soul Flame Art. A tiny spark danced in his palm, unnoticed by the servant, who yelped and bolted away. "Ah… this body has potential," he murmured. "But first… the crown prince."
Meanwhile, in the palace, Crown Prince Zhen Luo lounged on his crimson chaise, the picture of elegance and exasperation in black robes. Today, as always, the King and Queen were forcing him into some ridiculous political scheme. Li Shuran, the scheming woman desperate to marry him, approached with exaggerated sweetness. "Your Highness, I… I hope you will consider my proposal carefully. The alliance between our families—"
"Proposal?" Zhen Luo interrupted, voice smooth but sharp. "I am not interested. And besides…" He gave a dramatic glance to the court officials, cheeks faintly pink, "…I'm not even the marrying type."
Li Shuran blinked. "Your… type?"
"Yes. My… personal type," he said, wincing at the words. "…Which is none of your business."
Feng Huai, his loyal bodyguard, stifled a laugh behind him, clearly enjoying the crown prince's flustered expression.
Later, Han Jian wandered the palace grounds, ostensibly to observe the crown prince, and ended up bumping straight into him. "Watch it!" Zhen Luo barked, almost spilling his tea.
Han Jian grinned, eyes glinting. "Or what, Your Highness? Will the mighty crown prince scold me?"
Zhen Luo's sharp eyes narrowed. There was something familiar in this boy—dangerous, yet playful. His instincts screamed: stay away. And yet… curiosity tugged him forward.
"You're annoying," Zhen Luo said, voice low. "…And possibly trouble."
"Good," Han Jian replied, matching the intensity. "I like trouble."
It was the first spark of chaos, tension, and absurdity that would define their relationship—a clash of wills, a game of revenge, and something far more complicated simmering beneath the surface.
That night, as Han Jian trained in secret, the spark of his past life's power flared stronger than ever. Across the palace, Zhen Luo muttered to his reflection, unaware that the nobody boy in the capital grounds would soon turn his carefully controlled life upside down. Somewhere in the shadows, a laugh echoed—light, playful, and deadly. The game of revenge and mischief had begun.
Chapter 1 for this one