Prime Minister Feng Wangshu paced back and forth across the grand, polished floor of the room, his brows knitted in frustration. The midday sun cast long shadows along the walls, but he paid no heed; his eldest daughter, his precious Ruyi, had yet to wake. It had been nearly half a day since he'd been abruptly pulled from his work by a loud shriek from the west courtyard, where her quarters lay.
Earlier that morning, he had been in his study, immersed in drafting an intricate report for the Emperor. Known for his fierce intellect and unrelenting presence in court, Feng Wangshu wielded considerable power, rivaled only by the Emperor himself. Though only 39, he was a man whose reputation commanded fear and respect alike, and his stern gaze could silence a room in an instant. Tall and broad-shouldered, he possessed a chiseled face with a sharp jawline, intense, piercing eyes, and thick, dark brows that often cast shadows over his countenance, lending him a perpetual air of solemnity. A hint of silver was beginning to streak his jet-black hair, further intensifying the commanding aura he carried like armor.
Despite his fierce nature and unyielding presence in the court, there was a gentler side to Feng Wangshu that few ever saw. He had always been a devoted father, and his daughters were the one soft spot in his otherwise disciplined and stoic life. He might command an army with ease, but when it came to his daughters, his heart softened. His sharp gaze would soften when he looked at them, and even his gruff demeanor would shift into something resembling warmth. He would never show this side to anyone in court, but at home, with his daughters, he was protective, kind, and sometimes, unexpectedly tender.
The moment he'd heard the scream, his heart had lurched, and he had immediately rushed to his daughter's quarters, where he found her lying unconscious on the floor. Her maid, Liqin, knelt by her side, her voice trembling as she desperately called out for her mistress. Feng Wangshu had wasted no time; he ordered one of his attendants to fetch the Imperial Doctor without delay. But now, as the minutes dragged into hours, impatience gnawed at him.
"Why isn't she awake yet?" Feng Wangshu demanded, his voice cold and edged with restrained fury. His gaze bore into the Imperial Doctor, who knelt before him, visibly trembling under the Prime Minister's steely glare. Feng Wangshu's voice held the same quiet, simmering menace that could silence an entire court of officials. For a man of his position, every word he uttered bore significant weight.
The Imperial Doctor, feeling the full pressure of Feng Wangshu's fury, fell to his knees, his forehead nearly touching the floor as he dared not meet the Prime Minister's gaze.
"I'm confident that the reason why the eldest miss fainted is due to stress," the doctor quickly answered, his voice laced with urgency. "When I felt her pulse, her heartbeat was racing. Since she's young, I've eliminated the possibility of a heart attack. I conclude this is a result of stress or fear."
Feng Wangshu narrowed his eyes, contemplating the doctor's words. His gaze lingered on his daughter's still form, but just as he was about to ask more questions, a faint groan came from the bed. He turned, his heart clenching with both concern and relief, to see his daughter stirring, her eyelids fluttering as she slowly began to wake up.
"Yi'er! Yi'er! How are you feeling?" Feng Wangshu asked, his voice softer than usual, betraying a tenderness only those closest to him could ever witness.
Feng Ruyi's body felt heavy, and her senses were muddled. The light from the room was so bright it made her squint. She felt a sharp weight pressing on her chest as her mind tried to process her surroundings. There was something vaguely familiar about the voice calling out to her, but it didn't make sense. She could hardly remember anything.
When she finally opened her eyes, she found herself staring at a middle-aged man dressed in the formal robes of a high-ranking official from an era long past. His presence was imposing, yet his expression was filled with concern as he gazed at her with intense eyes. His aura was that of a man used to commanding respect, but here, in this moment, his face was full of worry.
"Where am I?" she wondered aloud, the question echoing in her mind, but she couldn't quite make sense of it. The last thing she remembered was lying in her bed, reading her favorite novel, Back in Time: Everyone Wants Me! Her mind raced for answers, but her thoughts were interrupted by a high-pitched, feminine voice.
"Miss, you're okay! I thought you would never wake up!" Liqin cried out in relief, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her pale cheeks. The sight of the young maid's swollen, red eyes only reminded Feng Ruyi of how much had changed, how much she didn't understand yet. Slowly, the pieces fell together. Her heart sank as she remembered why she had fainted.
I've transported into a book, she realized in horror. But I'm not the protagonist... I'm the ruthless antagonist.
Her head swam as the weight of that realization crashed down on her. The Feng Ruyi of this world—this book—was cruel, selfish, and had always treated her younger sister, Feng Qingqing, terribly. In the story, Feng Ruyi was beloved by her father, the Prime Minister, but that love had only made her spoiled, and her sense of superiority had led her to torment her quieter, more reserved sister, Feng Qingqing. The bullying had been relentless, causing Feng Qingqing to endure without ever fighting back, until one day, it became so brutal that it pushed Qingqing to her limits.
The thought of how this story ended—how Feng Ruyi met her untimely and tragic death—made Feng Ruyi's heart race with panic. The novel's version of herself had been consumed by jealousy and rage over the transformation of Qingqing, who had turned from a shy and timid girl into a confident, outspoken woman. This change had drawn the attention of the crown prince, Tian Weilong, a man who had once been engaged to Feng Ruyi. But jealousy had driven her to madness, and in the end, it was she who met a fatal fate.
No, no, no... The thought of dying the way her novel counterpart did sent a cold shiver down her spine.
As she struggled to make sense of the reality she now found herself in, the door to her bedroom creaked open slowly. A girl stepped inside, her presence commanding attention. Feng Qingqing. The girl who had once been a shy, subdued figure was now striking. She had long, silky hair tied up in two loops at the top of her head, reminiscent of butterfly wings. Her skin was pale, like delicate porcelain, and her lips were a soft cherry red. She had large, expressive eyes, round and innocent—but the most striking feature was the fierceness that burned within them. Unlike her younger self, who had been meek and quiet, this new Qingqing exuded confidence, strength, and a sharpness that was hard to ignore. The girl was beautiful, but in a way that contrasted sharply with Feng Ruyi's softer, more delicate beauty.
It was ironic, really. The old Ruyi had been the cruel, self-centered one, while Qingqing had been the quiet, reserved sister. Now, everything had flipped. Feng Ruyi, who had once been pampered and adored, was now the one caught in this strange, new reality. Meanwhile, Qingqing had grown into someone who was anything but meek.
Feng Wangshu turned to his daughter, his brows furrowing slightly as he looked at Feng Qingqing with a mixture of surprise and wariness. "Qing'er, what are you doing here?" His voice held a note of genuine confusion, and it was clear that he wasn't accustomed to his daughters being in the same room together, especially given the history between them. The relationship between Feng Ruyi and Feng Qingqing had always been like that of a vicious lioness and an innocent rabbit—one that couldn't run without enduring a few injuries.
Feng Qingqing turned to face her father and gave him a small, polite smile, her lips curving into a faint, almost imperceptible grin. Then she turned toward Feng Ruyi, her gaze unwavering. "Of course, I came to see my dear Jie Jie," she said, but the unspoken bitterness in her tone was undeniable. It was there, in the coldness of her words, the sharp glint in her eyes. The years of mistreatment and bullying had etched themselves into her soul, and she wasn't about to forget them.
The two sisters locked eyes in an intense stare-down. Neither of them was willing to back down, both of them holding their ground in an unspoken contest of wills. Feng Ruyi's gaze faltered for just a moment, her eyes drifting to the gold butterfly hairpin that decorated Feng Qingqing's hair.
It was a subtle thing, that hairpin, but its symbolism was not lost on Feng Ruyi. In the story, the a week after Feng Qingqing's transmigration, she had chosen to wear a butterfly hairpin to mark her personal transformation, her growth, and her newfound confidence. That moment was symbolic of Feng Qingqing shedding her old, timid self, a step toward reclaiming her power, and a silent promise to the original soul that she would never allow herself to be silenced or oppressed again. Feng Qingqing wore it not just as a symbol of her growth but also as a reminder of the power she had to shape her own future, free from the shadows of those who had sought to control her. This was the new Feng Qingqing—a force to be reckoned with. And as she locked eyes with Feng Ruyi, there was no mistaking the truth that lay between them: the balance of power had shifted, and this time, it was Feng Qingqing who would decide the course of her fate.
Feng Ruyi's heart skipped a beat. So, this is it. This must be after Qingqing transmigrated, which means... I must have transmigrated after the original Ruyi killed the original Qingqing.
The realization hit her like a tidal wave, and in that moment, Feng Ruyi cursed the author a thousand times in her mind.
Feng Qingqing slowly stepped closer, each step purposeful and deliberate, her confidence palpable with every motion. Feng Ruyi could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the anticipation thick in the air. She knew what was coming—this new Feng Qingqing would take revenge for the old soul of this body, and Feng Ruyi could already feel the weight of the storm on the horizon.
As Qingqing took the final step toward her, Feng Ruyi couldn't help but swallow hard, the pit in her stomach deepening.
Oh, crap.