The silence after Madam Qin and Qin Rourou left was deafening.
Even the cicadas outside seemed to hesitate, as if waiting for the next act.
Qin Loulou stared at the closed door for a long moment, her smile long gone. Then she exhaled, slow and deliberate, letting the brittle performance drop from her face.
"So it really is a script," she muttered. "And I'm stuck in the worst role possible."
Her gaze drifted toward the vanity mirror again, the reflection of a delicate girl in soft green pajamas, hair slightly mussed, eyes bright.
"I should write out the main plot," she whispered.
She turned toward the maid, who was still lingering nervously by the door. "Xiaotao," Qin Loulou said lightly, "bring me a pen and something to write with."
The girl blinked. "A pen? But, Miss Qin, you should rest—"
"Rest?" Qin Loulou smiled faintly. "If I rest any more, I'll sleep straight through my own death scene. Go on."
Xiaotao hesitated, then hurried off, muttering under her breath about fevers and strange behavior.
As soon as she left, Qin Loulou swung her legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the dizziness that followed. The room tilted slightly, then steadied.
Her fingers traced the edge of the bedsheet. "Three months," she murmured. "I only have that much to turn things around."
When Xiaotao returned with a notepad and a fountain pen, Qin Loulou's lips curved in satisfaction. She took them, flipped open the first page, and began to write.
At the top, she scrawled:
"Spring Cicada's Lament — Original Script (a.k.a. How Not to Die This Time)"
She tapped the pen thoughtfully against her chin. "Okay. Let's see…"
Her memory began stitching together the film scene by scene, every frame flickering like a reel inside her mind.
Qin Rourou returns home at thirteen, claiming to be the real daughter. The pendant convinces everyone. Qin Loulou becomes a charity case overnight.
A society banquet. Qin Loulou accidentally ruins Qin Rourou's debut by spilling wine on a dignitary's wife. Rumors begin 'The fake daughter is jealous of her sister.'
Qin Loulou catches a fever and is nearly disowned after Rourou "selflessly donates" blood for her transfusion. The media hails Rourou as an angel.
Qin Loulou dies in an "accident" near the lakeside pavilion. Her body is found floating among magnolias. The family weeps. Rourou becomes the perfect daughter.
Qin Loulou stopped writing, the pen hovering over the page.
She remembered the scene vividly; she who played Loulou, the cold water, the director shouting for emotion. She remembered the ache in her chest, the humiliation of dying prettily so someone else could shine.
"You know what?" Qin Loulou muttered, tapping the pen against the page. "The main plot points are useless in my situation."
She stared down at her own handwriting, the neat list of her own misery, her perfectly choreographed downfall. It looked more like a death certificate than a plan.
"I don't need the story," she said finally, closing the notebook with a decisive snap. "I just need to change things to my favor. I don't care who the protagonist is anymore I refuse to die for someone else's spotlight."
Xiaotao, who had been standing quietly nearby, blinked in confusion. "Miss Qin… are you talking about a story again?"
"Yes," Qin Loulou said, her tone light but her eyes sharp. "A terrible one. Poorly written. Needs editing."
The maid tilted her head. "Editing?"
"Exactly." Qin Loulou smiled faintly, a dangerous sort of calm creeping into her expression. "And this time, I'll be the one holding the pen."
Xiaotao fidgeted, unsure whether her mistress was joking or delirious. "Then… what do you plan to change, Miss?"
Qin Loulou leaned back against the pillows, twirling the pen between her fingers like a knife. "Everything. Starting with the ending."
Her gaze drifted to the window, where the lake shimmered faintly beyond the gardens — calm, beautiful, deceitful.
"That lake," she murmured under her breath. "That's where she dies. Where I die."
Xiaotao's brow furrowed. "Miss?"
Qin Loulou blinked, realizing what she'd said, and smiled to cover it up. "Nothing. Just thinking about how dangerous water can be when people can't swim… or when others don't want them to."
Xiaotao paled slightly. "Miss Qin, please don't say such ominous things!"
Qin Loulou laughed softly. "Relax. I'm not planning to drown anytime soon."
Her reflection in the vanity caught her eye again.
She reached out, tore the first page of the notebook cleanly, and crumpled it in her fist. "No more scripts," she said quietly. "From now on, I improvise."
The next morning arrived with the soft rustle of silk curtains and the faint scent of magnolia soap.
Xiaotao entered quietly, carrying a silver basin of steaming water. "Miss, it's morning already," she said, her voice still hushed with yesterday's confusion. "You said you wanted to get up early?"
Qin Loulou hummed in reply, sitting up. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders in a dark wave. "Yes. I have a few scenes to prepare."
Xiaotao blinked. "Scenes?"
Loulou only smiled. "Figure of speech."
When Xiaotao helped her bathe, Loulou caught her reflection in the mirror; pale skin, delicate wrists, the sort of beauty that always looked like it needed saving. She tilted her head, thoughtful.
The original Qin Loulou never took advantage of that face. She'd always dressed meekly, as if apologizing for existing.
Not this time.
"Xiaotao," she said, gesturing toward the wardrobe, "bring me something… beautiful."
The maid froze. "Beautiful?"
"Yes. The kind that makes people regret underestimating me."
After a moment's hesitation, Xiaotao obeyed. She laid out a soft rose qipao trimmed with ivory lace, it was elegant, but not loud. Loulou ran her fingers over the fabric and smiled faintly. "Perfect."
By the time her hair was brushed, pinned, and lightly perfumed, even Xiaotao seemed awestruck. "Miss Qin, you look...different."
"Good." Loulou stood, the hem of her dress swaying like the start of a new act. "That's the point."
Just as she was adjusting her earrings, the door burst open.
"Loulou!"
Qin Rourou rushed in, her soft curls bouncing, her smile too bright for morning. "Sister, you...oh."
She stopped short, eyes widening. "You look… rather beautiful today."
Loulou didn't look up from the mirror. "You should knock next time, sister."
"I never needed to knock," Rourou said, a faint pout curving her lips. "But I'll consider that from now on… sister."
Loulou turned then, her gaze calm but cool. "What do you want?"
"Your fiancé," Rourou said, the smile returning. "Li Hengyu is here. He said he'd like to have breakfast with us."
Loulou's fingers stilled. "I see."
Inside, her thoughts turned razor-sharp.
The bastard who switched affections the moment he found out I wasn't the real daughter.
She rose gracefully, ignoring the flicker of amusement in Rourou's eyes. "Then let's not keep him waiting."
---
The Qin family dining room was a display of quiet luxury; polished rosewood, porcelain dishes gleaming under morning light.
Madam Qin sat at the head of the table, poised and elegant in a pale cheongsam. Beside her was Father Qin, already hidden behind his newspaper, and across from them, her two elder brothers.
Qin Shiyu, the eldest, cold as marble, precise even when lifting a teacup.
Qin Yichen, the sort who smiled just enough to be unreadable.
Loulou's gaze lingered on them briefly — something in their faces tugged at her memory. They looked familiar. Too familiar. Like men she'd once known under stage lights and camera flashes.
And then...
Li Hengyu turned toward her.
Tall, immaculate, with that gentle expression that used to melt fans on screen. The sight hit her like a scene replayed from another life.
Jiang Han.
Her heart gave a quiet, incredulous laugh. Of course it's you.
In her past life, Jiang Han had played Li Hengyu, the same face, the same tender deceit. The same man who'd smiled at her while destroying her.
"Loulou," Li Hengyu greeted, rising politely. "You look radiant this morning."
His tone was warm, but his gaze flicked toward Rourou. The look there was softer, more lingering.
Just as she remembered.
Loulou smiled back, perfectly composed. "Thank you. I heard you wished to have breakfast with me?"
"With the family," he corrected, though his eyes darted back to Rourou again. "It's been too long."
Madam Qin gestured for her to sit. "Loulou, eat something. You still look pale."
She obeyed, lowering herself gracefully into her seat. The porcelain clinked softly as she lifted her teacup, watching Li Hengyu through the steam.
He was all charm and courtesy, the kind of man who knew how to play sincerity like a violin.
He's exactly the same, she thought. Even his smile hasn't changed.
Her father's voice broke the silence. "Hengyu says his family's company is expanding. You'll be moving to Beijing soon?"
"Yes, Uncle Qin," Li Hengyu replied, tone smooth as porcelain. "Hengxin Bank is opening a new branch. My father believes it's time I take charge. And of course, I hope Loulou will visit when she's feeling well."
Visit? She almost laughed. You mean after you trade me for my sister?
Across the table, Rourou giggled softly at something Qin Yichen said, the picture of grace and innocence. And just like that, Loulou saw the script unfolding again.
Only this time, she knew her lines would be different.