The rain fell heavily.
Not the gentle kind that whispered against windows — but the violent, relentless kind that crashed against the world like a storm of grief.
Neon lights blurred across the wet streets, stretching into long, trembling reflections. Cars rushed past, splashing dirty water onto cracked sidewalks. The city breathed heavily beneath the weight of the storm.
Jiang Yanyan stood alone beneath the glowing streetlamp.
Her long coat clung to her body, soaked through. Rain trickled down her hair, slid along her jawline, and dripped from her chin. Yet she didn't move.
Her gaze was distant.
Hollow.
The phone in her hand vibrated continuously, but she ignored it.
Because just minutes ago, she had received the call that shattered everything.
"Miss Jiang… your parents' plane… it crashed."
Her fingers tightened slowly around the phone.
The world around her seemed to fade.
The roaring rain.
The flashing lights.
The rushing cars.
Everything blurred into nothingness.
Her parents.
The only family she had.
Gone.
Just like that.
Her lips trembled.
She opened her mouth — but no sound came out.
In her entire life, she had climbed endlessly upward.
From a poor background.
From hunger.
From struggle.
She trained.
She endured.
She fought.
She became a beauty queen.
A master chef.
A world-class fashion designer.
She achieved fame.
Wealth.
Status.
Yet in that moment —
None of it mattered.
Not a single thing.
Because the people she worked so hard for…
Were gone.Fragments of a Past Life
She remembered her childhood.
A cramped apartment.
Cold winters.
Her mother sewing late into the night.
Her father skipping meals so she could eat.
They dreamed of nothing more than her success.
And she had given it to them.
Luxury homes.
World tours.
Pride.
But she had also given them distance.
Busy schedules.
Endless meetings.
Nonstop competitions.
"Next time."
"I'll visit next month."
"I'll call tomorrow."
She always thought there would be more time.
But life never waited.
Her vision burned.
Hot tears mixed with rain, sliding down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry…"
Her voice vanished into the storm.She stepped off the curb.
Traffic lights flashed red.
A horn blared loudly.
Someone shouted.
But she didn't stop.
Her feet moved as if pulled by something invisible.
The rain blurred everything.
Her chest felt hollow.
Empty.
She no longer felt fear.
Only exhaustion.
"If this is the end…"
"…then let it be quick."
White headlights exploded into her vision.
The screech of tires tore through the rain.
Then —
Impact.
Her body flew backward.
Pain swallowed everything.
Darkness rushed in.
And the world… went silent.She floated.
Weightless.
Soundless.
Time lost meaning.
There was no pain.
No thought.
Only endless darkness.
Then —
A faint light appeared.
Soft.
Warm.
Gentle.
She drifted toward it.
And suddenly —
Voices echoed.
Angry.
Mocking.
Cruel.
"What a disgusting fat girl."
"She should just die."
"No man would ever want her."
Her heart clenched violently.
Those words were not meant for her.
Yet they pierced deep.
The darkness cracked.Awakening
A sharp pain stabbed into her temples.
Her chest tightened.
She sucked in a shaky breath.
Air rushed violently into her lungs.
She coughed.
Her eyelids fluttered.
Dim light seeped in.
A strange smell filled her nose — damp earth, smoke, old wood.
Her fingers twitched.
Then slowly —
She opened her eyes.
What greeted her was a cracked mud ceiling, stained by years of rainwater and smoke.
Wooden beams crossed unevenly above.
A faint ray of sunlight slipped through a broken window, illuminating floating dust.
She froze.
This was not a hospital.
Not an ambulance.
Not a morgue.
Her heart slammed violently.
She tried to move.
Her body felt heavy.
Unnaturally heavy.
She struggled to lift her arm.
It was thick.
Large.
Rough.
Panic surged.
She forced herself upright.
The wooden bed creaked loudly beneath her weight.
The thin quilt slid off.
And she saw herself.
A massive waist.
Thick thighs.
Heavy arms.
Soft flesh layered upon flesh.
Her breathing hitched violently.
"No…"
Her voice trembled.
"This isn't me…"
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
Her hands shook as she pressed them against her chest.
The sensation was real.
Too real.
Her head spun.
Then —
A violent wave of memories crashed into her mind.Laughter.
Mockery.
Cold eyes.
Cruel words.
A name echoed repeatedly:
Liu Meilin.
She gasped, clutching her head.
Images poured in uncontrollably —
A small rural village.
Mud houses.
Barefoot children.
Women gossiping.
Men spitting in disdain.
A fat girl standing alone, tears streaming down her face.
Chasing love.
Being humiliated.
Crying herself to sleep.
Her chest tightened painfully.
Understanding dawned.
She hadn't survived.
She had transmigrated.
Into the body of the most ridiculed girl in Qinghe Village.
Her fingers curled tightly into the quilt.
"So this is… my second life?"Outside, rooster calls echoed faintly.
Somewhere, a woman shouted.
Children laughed.
Life continued.
But inside the dim little room —
A new destiny had begun.
Jiang Yanyan lay back slowly, staring at the cracked ceiling.
Tears slid silently down her temples.
Her heart trembled.
Not from fear.
But from uncertainty.
From shock.
From grief.
And from the unbearable weight of starting over.
Yet beneath that —
A tiny spark flickered.
Because she was alive.
And as long as she lived —
She could fight.
She closed her eyes slowly.
And in the stillness —
Fate quietly turned its page.