"This can't be real…" she whispered.
Her voice trembled in the quiet room. The sunlight glowed softly through gauze curtains, scattering gold over the embroidered sheets. Everything looked too vivid, too solid to be a dream.
She forced herself to breathe. "Calm down, She. You've filmed stranger things before. This is just method acting… gone too far?"
Then she remembered Li Mei's smirk, the sting of the syringe, the taste of blood.
Her fingers curled into the bedsheet.
No. That wasn't a scene. That was her death.
But if this wasn't a dream, then where or where was she?
"Um," she said hoarsely, looking toward the maid still hovering nervously. "What… what day is it today?"
The maid blinked, startled by the sudden question. "It's… the 12th of May, 1984, Miss Qin. The doctor said you shouldn't..."
Her breath hitched.
1984.
Her mind flashed back to Spring Cicada's Lament: the ill-fated film that had been marketed as "Li Mei's grand transformation from idol to actress." It was supposed to skyrocket Li Mei's fame.
And it would have… if not for the controversy.
She remembered the tabloids accusing the director of "using real events from a certain socialite family." The production was pulled just before release. Li Mei had cried publicly at the press conference, saying she was "heartbroken that art was misunderstood."
She had stood beside her, smiling politely, never realizing the film mirrored a real family scandal, one the public wasn't supposed to know about.
And now she was in it.
"Oh, great," she muttered under her breath. "Of all the scripts to fall into, it had to be the one that almost got me blacklisted."
The maid, misunderstanding her tone, stepped closer anxiously. "Miss Qin, are you feeling faint again? Should I fetch the physician?"
She blinked and quickly waved her off. "No, no! I'm perfectly… lucid."
Lucidly losing my mind, maybe.
The maid hesitated. "Are you sure? You hit your head during the fever last night and kept mumbling strange things."
She gave an awkward little cough. "Ahem...right. About that."
Her gaze darted to the girl, trying to recall her name from the film set memories.
Was it… Yun'er? No, wait that was the maid from Scene Twelve. Or maybe the one who poisoned the soup in Scene Sixteen?
Ah. Trouble.
"Miss Qin…?" the maid asked uncertainly.
She cleared her throat and smiled. "Of course I remember you! How could I not?"
The maid looked relieved.
"…Ahem. Though, purely to test my memory after that, uh, fever...what was your name again?"
The girl gasped, her eyes filling with alarm. "Miss Qin! Did you really forget me? I'm Xiaotao! Oh heavens, you must have really hit your head hard!"
She began fluttering about like a panicked sparrow, checking her forehead with her palm and glancing toward the door. "I'll go call Madam at once..."
"Wait!" She caught her wrist, forcing a wobbly smile. "No need to panic. Xiaotao, right? Lovely name. Suits you perfectly. See? I remember now."
The girl blinked suspiciously. "…You do?"
"Of course," She said with mock sincerity. "How could I ever forget the one person in this house who actually cares if I'm breathing?"
Xiaotao looked both flustered and proud. "Well… Madam does care too. She was crying last night."
"Was she?" She murmured dryly. "Out of grief or guilt?"
"Pardon?"
"Nothing!" she said quickly, forcing another smile. "Just...ah...thinking out loud."
When She finally relaxed, She sank back against the pillows, mind spinning.
So it was true. She was inside the world of Spring Cicada's Lament.
The year matched, the house matched, even the name on her jade hairpin matched.
And if the timeline was correct…
She only had three months before Qin Loulou's scripted death.
She pressed her lips together. "First thing first," she whispered. "Let's recall who loulou is."
If she remembered correctly, Qin Loulou was the stand-in daughter: the one the Qin family raised out of pity after losing their real daughter years ago.
Then, one day, the real daughter, Qin Rourou, miraculously reappeared at age thirteen, clutching a half-broken jade pendant that proved her bloodline.
From then on, Qin Loulou's life became a slow fade-out.
She stayed in the same house, ate the same meals, even wore the same school uniform but everything about her screamed "extra."
Madam Qin stopped correcting people when they called Rourou the only daughter.
Father Qin avoided her entirely, as though guilt could be managed by silence.
And the two older brothers, Qin Shiyu, cold as marble, and Qin Yichen, all politeness and distance, treated her like a fragile ornament that didn't quite belong on the family shelf.
So the maid saying Madam cried? That was rich.
She gave a small, humorless laugh. "Madam Qin cried? For me? That's some impressive acting. She should've been in my industry."
"Eh?" Xiaotao blinked, confused. "Madam really was worried! She stayed by your door all night, though she didn't come in. Master Qin said it might upset you."
"Oh, how considerate," She said sweetly. "Nothing says 'motherly love' like being afraid of your own daughter."
"Miss Qin?"
"Nothing," She said again, forcing a bright smile. "Just happy to know the family's still… theatrical."
The maid didn't seem to understand a word of it, but She was already thinking ahead.
If this world really followed the movie's plot, she was living on borrowed time.
In the film, Qin Loulou's death wasn't an accident, it was a convenient tragedy that turned Qin Rourou into a national darling. The fragile, unloved sister dies, the "real" daughter cries prettily, and the audience forgives every one of her sins.
She sighed, running a hand through her soft curls. "Figures. I finally win an award, and my next role is a doomed background character."
Her eyes flicked toward the door as Xiaotao fussed with her teacup.
If memory served, this was the part of the story when Madam Qin would visit with a carefully measured expression, pretending to be concerned for the frail daughter she didn't quite claim.
And right behind her… would be Qin Rourou the glittering darling of the family.
She smiled faintly to herself, a spark of mischief lighting in her eyes.
"Well then," she murmured. "This should be fun."
A gentle knock interrupted her thoughts.
Xiaotao nearly jumped, smoothing her apron in a hurry. "That must be Madam and the Second Miss," she whispered, straightening the vase of magnolias on the bedside table. "Please, Miss Qin, try not to upset yourself."
"Upset?" Qin Loulou murmured, her lips curving faintly. "Never."
The door slid open with a soft click.
Madam Qin entered first. Her hair was swept into a glossy chignon, every pearl pin aligned with surgical precision. The pale lilac qipao she wore shimmered like mist, embroidered with silver cranes.
But what made Qin Loulou's pulse skip wasn't the elegance...it was the face.
Song Yuehua? For one dizzying second, she almost said the name aloud.
Madam Qin looked exactly like the veteran actress who had once played her on-screen mother: a woman famous for smiling through tears in tragic family dramas. The same sharp brows, the same brown eyes that could shift from warmth to frost in a blink.
It was uncanny. Almost scripted.
And then, behind her, came the girl who made Qin Loulou's blood run cold.
Qin Rourou.
Pretty. Graceful. All light and lilies.
And heartbreakingly familiar.
Her long black hair gleamed under the morning light, her eyes soft and dark, her smile practiced to perfection. Li Mei's face, down to the dimple that appeared when she feigned sincerity.
Qin Loulou's fingers tightened in the sheets before she forced them to relax. She smiled faintly. How fitting, she thought. My killer gets to be my sister.
"Loulou," Madam Qin's voice floated over, sweet and brittle. "You're awake. Thank heavens."
She stepped closer, the faint scent of sandalwood following her. "You had such a scare last night. We were all so worried."
Qin Loulou tilted her head slightly, studying her. The smile, the cadence, even the carefully arranged sorrow...oh yes. Song Yuehua could never have played it better.
"You shouldn't have worried, Madam," she said mildly, choosing her words with care. "I seem rather hard to get rid of."
Madam Qin's expression flickered first confusion, then disapproval. "Madam?" she repeated, her tone soft but firm. "You sound strange, child."
"Do I?" Qin Loulou asked, blinking innocently. "Maybe the fever scrambled a few lines. I'll try to get them right next time."
The older woman frowned slightly but said nothing. Behind her, Qin Rourou stepped forward, every movement graceful and calculated.
"Sister," she said in that tender, lilting tone that could melt any audience. "You frightened us so much last night. I was so worried I even stayed up praying for you."
Qin Loulou's smile sharpened. "How kind. I hope Heaven appreciated the performance."
Rourou blinked. "P-performance?"
"Prayers," Qin Loulou corrected smoothly. "I mean your prayers, of course. They must sound so pretty coming from you."
Madam Qin cast her a warning look. "Loulou, your sister meant well. You mustn't speak so sharply."
"Of course not," Qin Loulou said sweetly, lowering her gaze. "I'm grateful. Truly. You've both always been so… generous."
Rourou blushed modestly, lowering her eyes in that infuriatingly perfect way that made people want to protect her. "I only want you to recover soon. The doctor said you mustn't be upset."
"Then I'll make sure to stay very calm," Qin Loulou said, her tone velvety smooth. "After all, I'd hate to worry family."
Madam Qin smiled again, thin and distant. "That's good. Rest well. Your father and brothers will be pleased to hear you're recovering."
At the mention of them, Qin Loulou's lips twitched.
Ah yes the father who avoided her eyes, the brothers who treated her like a ghost they were too polite to exorcise.
She inclined her head demurely. "Tell them I said hello."
Madam Qin hesitated, clearly unsettled by her sudden composure. Rourou, meanwhile, was glowing with satisfaction as the heroine who'd fulfilled her moral duty to visit the lesser sibling.
When they finally turned to leave, Qin Loulou called out softly, "Mother."
Madam Qin paused. "Yes?"
Qin Loulou smiled, eyes glinting beneath her lashes. "You should rest too. Pretending to care looks exhausting."
The woman stiffened, ever so slightly. "What did you say?"
"Nothing," Qin Loulou said brightly. "Just talking to myself again."
Rourou frowned but said nothing, tugging lightly at Madam Qin's sleeve. The two left soon after.
When the door closed, the smile finally fell from Qin Loulou's face.
She leaned back against her pillow, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "So it really is you, Li Mei… even here."
Her reflection in the vanity smiled back at her.
"Still," she murmured, fingertips brushing the jade hairpin. "Just because she looks like Li Mei doesn't mean she is her… right?"