The first thing Su Yaoyao felt was cold. Not the pleasant, crisp cold of the air conditioning in her bedroom after a sweaty summer day, but a sharp, biting cold pressing against the skin of her neck.
The second thing she felt was a headache. A pounding, thumping rhythm behind her eyes that felt exactly like the aftermath of studying for three straight nights for her final Chemistry exam.
Ugh, Yaoyao thought, keeping her eyes squeezed shut. Five more minutes, Mom. If I don't get up, I can't fail the test. It's simple logic.
"Don't move," a rough voice hissed right into her ear. "One sound, and the Prime Minister's precious jewel loses her head."
Her eyes snapped open.
Instead of her messy ceiling covered in glow-in-the-dark stars, she was staring at… silk? Red silk curtains, embroidered with gold phoenixes, hanging from a carved wooden bedframe. And the smell—it wasn't the scent of leftover pizza and dry erase markers. It smelled like sandalwood and something metallic.
She slowly lowered her gaze.
A man dressed entirely in black, with only his eyes visible, was hovering over her. And the source of the cold? A very sharp, very real steel sword pressed against her jugular.
She blinked.
Okay. Okay, Su Yaoyao. You fell asleep on your textbook. This is a stress dream. A very vivid, high-definition stress dream.
The assassin narrowed his eyes, clearly confused by the girl's lack of screaming. He pressed the blade a fraction deeper. A tiny sting of pain bloomed on her neck.
Wait. Pain? You don't feel pain in dreams.
Realization hit her like a truck. She wasn't dreaming. She was… somewhere else. And this guy was actually trying to kill her.
Her heart rate spiked, panic flooding her chest. But then, a second thought overrode the fear.
If she died here… she wouldn't have to take the Chemistry final.
She wouldn't have to explain to her parents why she got a C in Math. She wouldn't have to go to gym class ever again. If she died here, maybe she would just wake up back in her bed with a wicked hangover but zero responsibilities.
A grin slowly spread across Su Yaoyao's face.
The assassin flinched. "Why are you smiling? Are you mad?"
Do it, she screamed internally, staring him dead in the eyes with pure excitement. Come on, bestie! End it! Send me home! Make it quick, I have zero pain tolerance!
The assassin's hand trembled. He had clearly expected begging, crying, or fainting. He was not prepared for a teenage girl looking at him as if he were Santa Claus delivering a PS5.
"You… you crazy witch—" he stammered, raising the sword for a killing strike.
Yes! Yes! Swing harder! Don't miss! Yaoyao cheered in her head.
CRASH!
The intricate wooden doors of the room exploded inward, splinters flying everywhere like shrapnel.
"UNHAND HER, YOU FILTHY DOG!"
A blur of dark purple robes flew into the room. It was a young man, tall and broad-shouldered, holding a heavy saber that looked like it weighed more than Yaoyao did. He had the kind of face that belonged on a magazine cover—sharp jawline, intense brows—but currently, he looked like a demon crawling out of hell.
This was Su Jian. Her… brother?
Wait. How did she know that name?
Information flooded her brain instantly. Su Jian. Eldest son of the Su Clan. General of the Northern Army. Known as the Mad Dog General. Has a temper short enough to measure with a ruler.
The assassin panicked. He grabbed Yaoyao's shoulder, hauling her up as a human shield. "Stay back, Su Jian! Or your sister dies!"
Su Jian froze, his knuckles turning white on the hilt of his saber. The murderous aura coming off him was so thick Yaoyao could practically taste it. The air in the room seemed to vibrate—was this that Internal Energy or Qi she read about in webnovels?
"If you scratch even a single hair on Yaoyao's head," Su Jian growled, his voice sounding like gravel grinding together, "I will peel your skin off and make a kite out of it."
Ew, gross, Yaoyao thought, wrinkling her nose. Bro, chill. Just let him stab me. You're ruining my ticket home!
She looked at the assassin. He was shaking. He was terrified of Su Jian. At this rate, he was going to surrender, and she would be stuck in this ancient world with no plumbing and no internet forever. She had to motivate him.
She needed to make him attack.
Don't look at my brother! she screamed in her mind, trying to telepathically communicate with the assassin. He's protecting his chest, but his stance is wide! Go for the legs! Sweep the leg, you idiot! If you attack him low, you can escape!
Across the room, Su Jian's eyes suddenly widened. He twitched, his gaze darting down to his own legs, then back to the assassin. He had heard the voice—his sister's voice—ringing in his head as clear as a bell.
"Hah!" Su Jian barked a laugh. "You think you can target my lower body?"
The assassin blinked, utterly confused. "What? I didn't say—"
"My sister is brilliant!" Su Jian roared. "She saw through your plan instantly!"
What? Yaoyao thought, confused. I didn't say anything out loud.
Before the assassin could process this confusion, Su Jian moved. He didn't protect his legs. Instead, he stomped his foot down with enough force to crack the stone floor. The shockwave knocked the assassin off balance.
The sword slipped away from Yaoyao's neck.
"NO!" she yelled, reaching out for the blade. "Come back! You missed!"
But it was too late. Su Jian was a blur of violence. He closed the gap in a split second, his heavy saber flashing like a streak of lightning. He didn't even use the sharp edge; he slammed the flat of the blade into the assassin's chest.
There was a sickening crunch of ribs, and the man in black flew across the room, smashing into a heavy antique vase. He slid down the wall, groaned once, and went still.
Silence fell over the room.
Su Yaoyao sat on the bed, staring at the unconscious (or dead?) assassin. Her ticket home. Her escape from this historical nightmare. Gone.
"Yaoyao!"
Su Jian dropped his sword—which made a terrifying thud—and rushed to the bed. He grabbed her shoulders, his terrifying Mad Dog face crumbling into an expression of pure, frantic worry.
"Are you hurt? Did he cut you? Did he scare you?" He began checking her arms and face like a mother hen.
"I'm fine," she mumbled, feeling a wave of depression. "I'm… unfortunately, completely alive."
Su Jian paused. He looked at her with glistening eyes. "You were so brave. You didn't scream. You didn't cry. You even analyzed his combat stance and warned me about my exposed legs."
Yaoyao stared at him. "I… warned you?"
"Yes! I heard your warning clearly!" Su Jian wiped a manly tear from his eye. "I was too focused on my anger, leaving my lower body unguarded. But you saw it. You saved me from a potential counter-attack. To think my little sister has such a keen eye for martial arts!"
I wasn't warning you! Yaoyao screamed internally. I was coaching him! I wanted him to sweep your leg so he could kill me!
Su Jian froze again. He tilted his head, a strange expression crossing his face. "Coaching him… to kill you?"
Yaoyao's breath hitched. Did she say that out loud? She clamped a hand over her mouth.
But Su Jian's expression shifted from confusion to a deep, heartbreaking realization. He grabbed her hand and held it to his chest.
"Oh, Yaoyao," he whispered, his voice trembling. "You… you were willing to sacrifice yourself? You wanted him to attack me so I would be forced to kill him, even if it meant you got hurt in the crossfire? You valued my safety over your own life?"
"That is literally the opposite of what I meant," she said, her voice muffled by her hand.
"Modest. So modest," Su Jian shook his head. "You are truly the pride of the Su Clan."
Before she could correct this massive misunderstanding, the doorway darkened again.
This time, the energy was different. If Su Jian was a raging fire, this new arrival was a block of absolute zero ice.
A middle-aged man walked in. He wore robes of dark indigo silk embroidered with silver cranes—the uniform of a high-ranking official. He had a perfectly groomed goatee, eyes that looked like deep pools of ink, and an aura of authority that made the air in the room feel heavy.
Prime Minister Su. Her father. The greatest villain in the empire.
He didn't run like Su Jian. He walked calmly, stepping over the assassin's body as if it were a piece of trash. But Yaoyao noticed his hands trembling inside his wide sleeves.
"Father," Su Jian greeted, bowing quickly. "An assassin from the Shadow Pavilion. I handled it."
Prime Minister Su didn't look at his son. His eyes were locked on Yaoyao.
"Yaoyao," he said, his voice low and smooth, but laced with a terrifying tension. "Who dared?"
Yaoyao looked at this man—her father. According to the memories swirling in her brain, this man had executed three hundred people last month for corruption. He was the reason the main characters in the original novel had such a hard time. He was a monster.
But looking at him now… he just looked like a dad who was about to have a heart attack from stress.
Great, she thought, flopping back onto the pillows. The big boss is here. Now I'm never leaving. This place sucks. No internet, no AC, and now I have overprotective villain parents. Just kill me. Someone, please, just restart the level.
Prime Minister Su stiffened. His eyes widened slightly.
He walked over to the bed and sat down gently. He reached out, tucking a strand of messy hair behind her ear. His fingers were cold.
"Restart… the level?" he murmured, repeating the internal thought he had just heard.
Yaoyao froze. "What?"
"You wish to… restart?" He looked deeply into her eyes, his expression shifting from worry to a profound, philosophical contemplation. "You think this reality is flawed? You wish to tear it down and build it anew?"
He stood up, his back straightening, his aura flaring up with a terrifying intensity.
"My daughter is right," he declared, turning to Su Jian. "The court is rotting. The Emperor is weak. The assassins run rampant in our own home. This world… it does suck. It needs to be restarted."
"Father?" Su Jian looked confused but excited. "Are you saying…?"
"Yaoyao is tired of this corrupt world," Prime Minister Su said, his voice filled with dark conviction. "She wants a new one. A better one. One where she feels safe."
He turned back to Yaoyao, a rare, chilling smile playing on his lips.
"Sleep, my daughter. Father understands now. I will not let you suffer in this level any longer. I will fix it. Even if I have to burn the entire capital to the ground to do it."
Wait, Yaoyao thought, panic rising in her throat. No. No, no, no. By restart the level, I meant me dying! Not everyone else!
Prime Minister Su's smile widened. "Selfless to the end. You worry for the common people? You fear the fire of revolution? Do not worry. I will be swift."
He swept out of the room, his robes billowing like storm clouds. "Su Jian! Double the guards! And bring me the Minister of War's head. I suspect he hired this assassin. We start the purge today!"
"Yes, Father!" Su Jian saluted, looking at his sister with hero-worship in his eyes before running after him.
The room fell silent again.
Su Yaoyao sat there, alone in the messy room, staring at the broken door.
"What," she whispered to the empty air, "just happened?"
She just wanted to go home to study for Chemistry. Instead, she thinks she just accidentally started a civil war.
She groaned and pulled the silk blanket over her head.
"This," she mumbled into the dark, "is going to be so annoying."