Chapter 3: Back to Eighteen
942 Words
Pain.
That was the first thing Lin Qingyan felt. Her body was heavy, like it had been torn apart and pieced back together. Her lungs burned, her chest tightened, and her mind was shrouded in darkness.
Then—suddenly—the weight lifted.
Her eyes snapped open.
The world above her was not asphalt or blinding headlights. Instead, she stared up at a familiar ceiling—the pale pink canopy of her girlhood bedroom. Sunlight streamed in through gauzy curtains, painting the walls in gold. The faint scent of laundry soap lingered in the air.
She blinked. Once. Twice.
How could this be?
Her trembling hand reached for the edge of the bed. It wasn’t the luxurious master suite of her fiancé’s mansion, nor the cold hospital room she’d expected after an accident. It was her room—the room she had left behind years ago, when she was still just a high school girl.
“No… this isn’t possible.” Her voice cracked.
She stumbled out of bed, rushing to the vanity table. The mirror reflected a face she hadn’t seen in years. Smooth, unlined skin. Wide, untainted eyes. Lips with the faintest trace of gloss.
The woman who had been broken, betrayed, and discarded… she was gone.
Staring back at her was the eighteen-year-old Lin Qingyan.
Her heart thundered in her chest.
Was this a dream? Or had death granted her another chance?
Her hands rose to her face. She touched her cheek, her lips, even tugged at her hair. The mirror didn’t lie. She was back.
Memories surged like a flood. The funeral. The whispers. Shen Zixuan’s contempt. Lin Yuxi’s poisonous smile. Hao’s desperate cries as he suffocated. The headlights—then nothing.
And now… this.
Her knees buckled. She gripped the table for support, her nails biting into the wood.
“Reborn…” she whispered, the word strange on her tongue.
But there could be no other explanation.
Her eyes burned, but no tears fell. She had shed enough in her last life. This time, she would not cry.
This time, she would fight.
“Lin Yuxi,” she muttered, her voice low and sharp, “you thought you won. But fate has given me another chance. I will never let you hurt Hao again.”
At the thought of her brother, her chest ached. He was alive now. Still a mischievous fourteen-year-old, still tugging at her sleeve, still laughing with that boyish grin.
She pressed her hand to her heart. A fierce determination surged through her veins.
This time, she would protect him.
Every lie, every plot, every betrayal—she would crush them all before they ever had the chance to bloom.
A knock at the door startled her.
“Qingyan! Wake up, you’ll be late for school!” Her mother’s voice floated in from the hallway, warm and alive.
Qingyan’s eyes widened. Her mother. In her last life, Mother’s health had crumbled under grief after Hao’s death. Yet now, her voice was steady, vibrant.
Her throat tightened. “Coming, Mom!” she called, her voice shaking.
She quickly splashed water on her face, changed into her school uniform, and tied her hair back. Her reflection was that of an ordinary girl, but inside her chest burned the resolve of a warrior.
Descending the stairs, she saw her family exactly as she remembered. Her mother bustling in the kitchen, her father reading the paper at the table, and Lin Hao—bright-eyed, waving a piece of toast in one hand.
“Jiejie! You’re finally up. Hurry, or I’ll eat your share!”
Qingyan froze at the sight of him. For a moment, time itself seemed to stop.
Her little brother was alive.
His messy hair, his grin, his voice—it was real. Not a memory. Not a video of him dying. Real.
Her chest constricted, and tears she had sworn not to shed pricked her eyes.
She strode forward and pulled him into her arms.
“H-Hey!” Hao yelped, squirming. “Why are you hugging me like this? Did you have a nightmare or something?”
“Yes,” Qingyan whispered, burying her face in his shoulder. “But it’s over now.”
Her parents exchanged amused glances, assuming it was just sisterly affection.
But in Qingyan’s heart, fire roared.
This time, no one would take him from her.
She forced herself to sit and eat, though her hands trembled slightly around her chopsticks. Every moment felt surreal—her family alive, the world reset, fate rewritten.
But reality pressed in soon enough.
At school, whispers trailed her as always. She had been known as the quiet girl with average grades, overshadowed by her adopted sister Lin Yuxi—the darling of teachers, admired for her beauty and poise.
And right on cue, Yuxi appeared in the corridor. She wore the same sweet smile, her long hair tied in a ribbon, her skirt neat and proper. To the world, she was perfection.
But to Qingyan, she was the devil in silk.
Yuxi walked straight to her, linking arms as though they were close. “Sister, did you sleep well? I’ve saved you a seat in class.”
In her past life, Qingyan would have smiled gratefully, blind to the venom hidden behind those kind eyes.
Now, her lips curved into a faint, icy smile.
“Yes,” she said softly. “I slept very well. Better than ever.”
For the first time, Lin Yuxi faltered, sensing something strange in her sister’s gaze.
Qingyan looked at her, her eyes cold and steady.
This time, she would not be fooled.
This time, she was ready.
- Writer
