Song Jinxing felt a sharp pain in his head, the kind of heaviness that came after a hangover. He struggled to open his eyes. A glaring crystal chandelier shone down from above, and the cool breeze from the air conditioner brushed against his body—almost as if he wasn't wearing any clothes.
Not wearing clothes?!
Song Jinxing suddenly sat up in bed, ignoring the throbbing in his head. He looked down—only to be met with a pair of proud, perky breasts.
For the first time in his life, the usually unshakable Third Young Master Song, who could remain calm even if Mount Tai collapsed before him, had his pupils contract in shock. He almost stumbled off the bed.
His whole body felt weak and limp. This didn't feel like drunkenness—it was more like he'd been drugged.
He quickly looked around. The room was a standard hotel setup. Supporting himself against the wall, Song Jinxing hurried to the full-length mirror near the door.
Reflected in the mirror was the naked body of a woman. Her skin was smooth and fair like white jade, glowing under the light. Waist-length black hair fell in soft curls over her chest. She had a slender waist, long legs, a curvaceous figure, and not a trace of excess fat on her body.
It was an incredibly sexy body—but at this moment, the stunningly beautiful face it belonged to was filled with utter disbelief.
Song Jinxing raised his hand and pinched that face hard.
The sharp pain and everything around him felt too real to be a dream.
Before he had time to process this scientifically impossible situation, a commotion suddenly erupted outside the door. Through the closed hotel door, he heard the noise of a crowd—mixed voices and the clicks of camera shutters.
"Is it this room?"
"Yes! Director Zeng is staying in this room!"
"Is Zhong Ruanxing really inside?"
"My source saw her go in with their own eyes!"
"If we catch Zhong Ruanxing inside, it'll confirm all those rumors about her sleeping her way to roles. Where's the keycard? Hurry!"
Even in his confused state, Song Jinxing knew the situation was bad.
While the people outside were still fumbling with the keycard, he quickly opened the wardrobe across the room, pulled out the hotel's bathrobe, and wrapped it around himself. Then, grabbing a pile of women's clothing tossed on the sofa, he slipped out to the balcony.
Night had already fallen. Neon lights sparkled below, and the garden's layout looked familiar.
This was Huayun Hot Spring Hotel—owned by the Song Corporation. The hotel emphasized luxury, so every guestroom was designed as a standalone villa. The balconies of adjacent rooms were less than two meters apart.
Beep-beep. The door was suddenly flung open in a hurry, and four or five people holding cameras rushed in.
Without hesitation, Song Jinxing tightened his grip on the bathrobe, climbed up onto the balcony railing, and leapt toward the balcony of the neighboring room.
Maybe it was the drugs in this body, but he felt unusually weak. Jumping that distance had already taken all his effort. He landed hard, unable to keep his balance, and fell painfully to the ground.
His knees and elbows scraped against the floor, thin lines of blood seeping out. The sharp sting once again reminded him this was all very real.
Footsteps followed quickly behind. Someone rushed onto the balcony, looking around.
"Where is she? There's no one here!"
Song Jinxing stayed perfectly still, lying on the ground and holding his breath.
That person looked around unwillingly for a moment, then finally turned back. The room he had just escaped from remained noisy for a while, then gradually quieted down.
Song Jinxing slowly sat up. He didn't rush to leave. Instead, he leaned against the balcony rail, trying to process the current situation.
Based on what those people had said, the owner of this body was named Zhong Ruanxing—apparently a celebrity.
So had he become Zhong Ruanxing, or had he swapped bodies with her?
If it was the second case, then the person currently in his original body must be the soul of this Zhong Ruanxing.
He had to meet her.
Assuming time was flowing the same for both of them, then his original self—right now—should be at... the Song family estate.
Song Jinxing felt another headache coming on.
Today was the Song family's monthly dinner gathering for the younger generation to dine with the elders. Over a dozen members of the Song family were assembled under one roof. Having grown up abroad, Song Jinxing was never close with them, and things hadn't improved much since his return to China.
Old Master Song was already displeased with him lately for refusing a blind date, and now, with something as bizarre as this happening, he prayed nothing bigger would go wrong.
The neighboring guest room was currently empty, but who knew if a guest might walk in at any moment? Without wasting another second, Song Jinxing used the balcony light to go through the pile of women's clothing he had hastily grabbed earlier.
There was a phone (powered off), a red spaghetti-strap dress, a pair of high heels, a pair of… lace panties, and a bra that looked quite different from the ones he was familiar with.
Was a strapless bra really not going to fall off?
Song Jinxing stared seriously at the lacy lingerie for a while, then finally closed his eyes in resignation. Using the corner of the balcony for cover, he took off the bathrobe and clumsily started putting the underwear on.
His stiff fingers accidentally brushed one of the upright "peaks" on his chest, and his eyelid twitched hard.
He was halfway into the dress when the room he had just fled from suddenly came alive again with noise.
Song Jinxing pressed himself against the wall, shrinking into the shadows. He heard a man's low, angry voice:
"Where the hell did she go? Didn't I tell you not to mess this up?!"
Two people were walking toward the balcony. A click—someone lit a cigarette.
A young woman's anxious voice followed:
"I saw her thrown on the bed with my own eyes! I even undressed her myself—I… I don't know what happened! Maybe the drug wasn't strong enough and she escaped?"
"No way! That drug was specially sourced from overseas… Dammit, this is bad. No photos, and we've pissed off Director Zeng."
"What about the role in this project...?"
"We'll talk about it later. Call Zhong Ruanxing tomorrow morning and feel her out. She shouldn't suspect you."
Their voices faded as they left.
Slowly, Song Jinxing pulled up the zipper of the dress, memorizing the young woman's voice.
After finishing getting dressed, the last step was the shoes.
High heels... Absolutely not. That was never going to happen—not in this lifetime.
With firm resolve, Song Jinxing picked up the high heels and stood barefoot. He carefully cleaned up any traces left on the balcony, then tossed the bathrobe he had used into the room's laundry basket. Only after confirming he had left no evidence behind did he head toward the door.
As he passed the full-length mirror by the hallway, he turned and looked at his reflection.
Having grown up abroad, Song Jinxing had seen plenty of curvy, voluptuous women. Still, even he was stunned by the sight in the mirror.
He wasn't someone who paid much attention to the entertainment industry and had never heard the name "Zhong Ruanxing" before. But with a face this stunning—rich in features and so vividly beautiful—she clearly had to be famous.
With that thought, Song Jinxing returned to the room, opened a drawer, and took out one of the complimentary face masks provided by the hotel. After putting it on and making sure the hallway was clear, he opened the door, heels in hand.
Worried the paparazzi who'd broken in earlier might be lurking downstairs, he avoided the elevator and took the stairs toward the staff access hallway instead.
Huayun Hot Spring Hotel was a property under the Song Group. Since returning to the country, Song Jinxing had taken over hotel operations himself—naturally, he was intimately familiar with every detail.
The staff corridor was secured by a keypad. Normally, employees accessed it using swipe cards, but Song Jinxing entered the passcode manually and opened the door. After crossing the hallway, he stepped into a cleaning room and finally powered on the phone.
The screen lit up, revealing a wallpaper: a family of four in front of Tiananmen Square.
Zhong Ruanxing was wearing a pink turtleneck sweater, her long wavy hair tied up. Without the glamour of her on-screen persona, she looked more like a bright and youthful college student. She was smiling sweetly, hugging her parents and a little girl who seemed about one or two years old.
Song Jinxing then dialed his own phone number.
It rang a few times, and then the call connected. A voice came through the receiver—his voice. One he knew like the back of his hand.
"Hello... hmm? What the—fuck! Holy sh—!"
Beep-beep-beep.
The call was cut off.
Song Jinxing pressed his fingers to his temple, the headache intensifying.