In the final moments of her previous life, Han Yue lay broken and bleeding on the cold rooftop of the Base's outer wall. The wind was sharp, but not as sharp as the pain in her heart. Crimson bloomed beneath her like a withered rose, her breathing shallow, chest rising and falling with each ragged inhale.
Beside her, Han Jiaojiao crouched with a smirk, the same sister who had once called her "family." The blade in her hand was slick with blood—Han Yue's blood. Her voice was calm, almost cheerful.
"Do you know why I hate you so much?" Jiaojiao's lips curled as she leaned closer. "You had everything handed to you. Beauty. Brains. And even Zhou Rui... he couldn't keep his eyes off you. You didn't even fight for it, yet people still looked at you like you were someone special."
Han Yue coughed, a trickle of blood running down her chin. "I never... I never wanted to take anything from you..."
Jiaojiao laughed, a cold, triumphant sound. "That's the thing, dear sister. Even when you didn't fight, you still had everything. The world pitied you, doted on you. And that Space Jade Amulet—thanks to that little toy, I was cherished by the Leader at the Base. A walking treasure chest." She stood up, flicking the blood from the knife. "So thank you, truly."
At her side, Zhou Rui stood silently, his expression unreadable. When Han Yue's tear-filled eyes turned to him, he finally spoke.
"I never loved you," he said with a faint smirk. "You were just an orphan, an abandoned mutt who didn't know her place. Pretending to be something more. Jiaojiao was the one I truly loved—pure, refined, loved by all. Look at her. Look at you. It was never a competition."
Han Yue felt her heart shatter—not from the physical pain, but from betrayal deeper than any wound. The man she once loved, the sister she tried to accept… everything had been a lie.
Jiaojiao turned and walked away, laughing softly, Zhou Rui following her without a glance back.
Just then, rapid footsteps echoed in the distance.
A man came running through the chaos, breathless and wide-eyed, dropping to his knees beside her. His hands trembled as they hovered over her broken body, not knowing where to touch, where to stop the bleeding.
"Han Yue... I wasn't able to protect you..." His voice cracked, choked with helplessness and despair. "I was too late."
His tears fell on her cheeks, warm and frantic.
Han Yue looked at him, her vision blurring. His face was twisted with grief, his body trembling like a broken string about to snap.
Warm. His tears were so warm.
That was the last thing she remembered.
The world turned to darkness.
But death was not the end.
When Han Yue opened her eyes again, she was not on a rooftop, nor bleeding in pain.
She was sixteen.
She was in a luxury car.
She blinked in confusion as a refined woman in a qipao wept tears of joy beside her, holding her hand tightly. "Yueyue, we finally found you! You're really our daughter!"
In front of her, sat a man—her father—with stern, slightly nervous eyes. And beside him, a young man who looked cold and indifferent—her older brother, Han Jun.
Next to him was Han Jiaojiao, dressed in white like a picture of innocence, her smile sweet, voice soft as she called out, "Sister."
Han Yue's breath caught.
Everything came crashing back. The betrayal. The lies. The pain. The blood. Her death.
She was reborn.
Back to the day she was taken home by the Han Family. The day everything began.
In her past life, she had longed for this reunion. She had smiled, cried, and naively believed in "family."
This time, her fingers curled tightly in her lap.
A sharp glint passed through her eyes. Cold. Ruthless. Awake.
She would not walk the same path again.