The pillow still smelled like lavender and bad decisions.
Shen Qingxue lay sprawled on the king-sized bed of Qin Rourou's luxury prison, staring at the ceiling like it personally betrayed her.
"This is fine," she muttered into the silence.
"Totally fine. All I have to do is fix the life of a woman who collected red flags like limited-edition handbags."
Baozi floated nervously beside her, twitching like a kettle about to whistle.
"You've been lying there for thirty-seven minutes, Host," it said gently. "Should I prepare your motivational playlist? I have 'Hot Girl Redemption' in four languages."
"I need therapy, not a Spotify subscription," Qingxue replied, muffled.
There was a knock.
A sharp, cold, rhythmically precise knock.
Qingxue froze. "That's not a friendly knock. That's a knock from someone who files restraining orders as a hobby."
Baozi squeaked. "It's him. It's the male lead! Mo Chen!"
Qingxue shot upright like she'd been tasered. "What? No warning? I haven't even brushed this woman's evil eyebrows yet!"
Too late.
The door opened.
He entered.
And God help her plotline, Mo Chen was even hotter in person.
Six feet of pressed charcoal suit, dark eyes like winter storms, and the kind of jawline that belonged in a jewelry commercial where someone proposes during a thunderstorm.
And yet.. His aura said: "I'm not here to kiss you. I'm here to sue you."
Qingxue stood instinctively, smoothing her silk pajamas in a panic. "Good morning, husb.."
"I'm not here for small talk," Mo Chen said coolly, tossing a thick envelope onto the bed like it offended him. "Sign it."
She looked down.
Divorce papers.
Qingxue blinked. "We're starting the arc with this? No slow descent into misery? No cold breakfast scenes where you ignore me while reading business reports?"
Mo Chen looked at her like she'd grown an extra head. "You've already ignored the legal notice once. If you delay again, I'll take this to court."
Qingxue tried to summon a dignified smile.
"Can't we just… talk?"
"Talk?" He raised an eyebrow. "You threatened to bankrupt my company two weeks ago because I refused to go to a couple's photoshoot in Paris."
"Oh."
"Then you slashed my car tires when I said I wanted space."
"Oh… oh."
"And you sent my assistant a funeral wreath after he accidentally called you 'Miss Qin' instead of 'Madam Mo'."
Baozi whispered from behind her ear, "That one was kind of iconic though."
Mo Chen exhaled, slow and sharp. "I won't fight you. But I won't live like this either. Sign it. Or I'll file for a protection order."
Qingxue held the divorce papers in shaking hands, eyes darting over legal jargon she was too emotionally unstable to read.
She needed time. A plan. A miracle. Maybe a light reincarnation.
"Can we… delay it for a week?" she asked softly.
Mo Chen's expression didn't change. "Why?"
"I just need time to… process. Emotionally."
"You had two years of marriage to do that."
"And yet I chose emotional instability," she said weakly.
He turned to leave. "I'll expect your decision by tomorrow. Don't pull anything crazy, Qin Rourou. I'm not the same person I was when you forced this marriage. You can't control me anymore."
Qingxue watched him go, then turned to Baozi, eyes wide.
"Okay. This is bad. This is bad bad. He hates me with the fire of a thousand suns."
Baozi made a whimpering beep. "He really does."
"Did you see how fast he handed over those papers? Man came prepared with a folder and a backup pen."
Baozi nodded. "He's had this in his inventory since Chapter 3 of the original timeline."
"I've been here less than an hour and already got served."
She slumped back onto the bed dramatically.
"Baozi, level with me. Does she have any redeeming traits?"
The pink orb paused.
"…She owned an organic skincare line?"
"That's not a personality, Baozi!"
There was a knock on the door again.
Qingxue bolted upright. "If that's Mo Chen again I swear I will fake faint—"
A middle-aged woman peeked in, bowing politely. "Madam… the Old Madam wishes to see you in the tearoom."
Qingxue blinked. "The Old Madam? You mean the mother-in-law?"
The maid nodded.
Baozi gasped. "Oh no. No no no. That's not in the script. She wasn't supposed to summon you this soon."
Qingxue turned slowly. "What do you mean 'not in the script'?"
"I mean… maybe she sensed you weren't being your usual tyrannical self and got suspicious! In the original timeline, Rourou didn't see the Old Madam unless it was to insult her furniture choices or threaten to move the family portraits."
Qingxue gulped.
She did not feel prepared to meet a woman who probably raised Mo Chen with iron-fisted discipline and imported jade teacups.
Still, she couldn't refuse.
She followed the maid through the mansion. past marble staircases, silent security staff, and paintings so expensive they probably had their own tax brackets.
The tearoom was quiet. Serene. Decorated with soft calligraphy scrolls and an air of judgment.
Old Madam Mo sat primly in a jade-green qipao, a steaming cup of oolong tea in her hands and a look on her face that said: I've seen three empires rise and fall and you still disappoint me.
Qingxue bowed. "Mother."
The Old Madam raised a brow. "You're being polite today."
Baozi whispered, "Play dumb! That's what real villainesses do!"
"I just… wanted to start fresh," Qingxue said awkwardly. "Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot."
The Old Madam gave a dry smile. "The wrong foot was when you showed up uninvited to my birthday party with a contract and blackmailed my son."
"Ah," Qingxue nodded. "That would be it."
"You've caused this family no end of embarrassment, Qin Rourou."
Qingxue sat down cautiously. "And I'd love to fix that. Really. I was thinking of starting by.."
"You will sign the divorce papers," the Old Madam cut in coldly. "And leave quietly. That is the best you can do to redeem your name."
Qingxue's heart dropped.
She hadn't even had the chance to win anyone over yet.
Baozi popped up beside the teacups. "Abort! Abort! We're dying!"
"Thank you for your advice," Qingxue said through a polite grimace. "I'll think about it."
"You'll think about it," the Old Madam echoed, with a look of sheer aristocratic scorn. "You must enjoy watching others suffer."
"No, that's just my face—"
Before Qingxue could finish, a maid rushed in.
"Madam! There's a tabloid report!"
"What now?" Qingxue and the Old Madam said at the same time.
The maid held up a tablet.
There, on the front page, was a photo of Mo Chen at a charity gala.
Standing beside him?
Ye Wan.
Her face looked like angelic suffering. Her dress, white and innocent. Their gazes, too intimate to be casual.
The headline read:
"Mo Corporation CEO Reunites With Ex at Midnight Gala – Sparks Fly!"
Qingxue's hands tightened around her teacup.
Baozi gasped dramatically, ears twitching.
"Host… she's back."
The original female lead.
Mo Chen's first love.
Qingxue's worst nightmare.
She sat frozen, tea going cold in her hand.
Her first arc had just gotten a new antagonist.
And she wasn't even on page 50 yet.
Qingxue stared at the tablet screen as if it personally kicked her in the shin.
Ye Wan.
Of course she was beautiful. Soft, dewy eyes that probably cried at sunsets. Hair like shampoo commercials. That kind of "I volunteer at orphanages and don't need makeup" face.
Qingxue wanted to throw the tablet into the koi pond. Or at least tip her tea onto it dramatically.
"Host," Baozi whispered nervously beside her ear, "your pulse is racing. Your spiritual energy is—oh. That's just rage."
Qingxue slowly set the tablet down with the brittle grace of someone trying not to snap a chopstick in half.
"Of course he's seeing his ex," she said tightly. "He just gave me divorce papers. Should I throw him a bouquet? Maybe a fruit basket for emotional betrayal?"
Baozi offered helpfully, "I have coupons for revenge haircuts and high-end spa revenge packages—"
"Not now, Baozi."
Across the tea table, Old Madam Mo took a sip of her tea like she hadn't just watched a metaphorical bomb drop.
"Well," she said calmly. "At least he's finally returning to someone decent."
Qingxue blinked.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Ye Wan is quiet. Kind. She knows her place." The old woman placed her cup down. "Unlike you."
Qingxue's internal monologue nearly self-combusted.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I must've missed the part where the 21st century rolled in. Did we suddenly switch to a feudal morality drama?"
Baozi hissed, "Careful, Host, you're slipping into Shen Qingxue mode—!"
Qingxue forced a smile so fake it deserved an Oscar. "Of course, Mother. I'll keep that in mind next time I want to engage in class warfare."
Old Madam Mo didn't seem to hear the sarcasm, which was probably for the best, considering Qingxue didn't want to be stabbed with a porcelain teacup before noon.
***
Back in the bedroom, Qingxue slammed the door and flopped on the bed like a deflated dumpling.
"I'm going to kill him," she muttered.
"Reminder!" Baozi chirped. "That's how the original Qin Rourou got herself a personal security tail and an arrest warrant in three countries!"
"Then I'll spiritually kill him. Mentally. Emotionally. Whatever version is allowed under transmigration law."
She rolled over and stared at the massive wedding portrait hanging above the fireplace.
There she was- Qin Rourou, in a designer red qipao, clinging to Mo Chen's arm like a spider with abandonment issues. And him?
Expressionless.
Like he was taking a passport photo under duress.
Qingxue pointed at the painting. "Look at this. Look at this face. He already wanted to leave on the wedding day! And I—she—still forced it through."
She buried her face in her hands. "I'm in a yandere drama, Baozi."
"You are the yandere," Baozi whispered helpfully.
"I KNOW."
***
Later that evening, the housekeeper arrived with a calm voice and a war crime in her hands.
"Madam, your favorite meal. Braised short ribs, sea cucumber soup, and chilled bird's nest."
Qingxue looked at the tray.
"Oh right. Fancy hostage food."
She picked up the chopsticks and stabbed the sea cucumber like it had personally slept with Mo Chen.
Baozi appeared beside the soy sauce. "Host. I think you need a strategy meeting."
"You mean a revenge plan?"
"I mean… a rebranding."
Qingxue paused, intrigued.
"Go on."
"You need to soften your image," Baozi said, producing a holographic slide titled
"Villainess to Vulnerable."
"You want me to… what? Cry in front of him?"
"Exactly! A tasteful tear. No more than two. Three makes you manipulative. One makes you stoic. But two…"
"Makes me look like a misunderstood woman with inner trauma?"
Baozi nodded enthusiastically.
"Alright." She put down her chopsticks.
"What's first?"
Baozi spun into action like a fairy godmother with Wi-Fi.
"Step 1: Let him see your vulnerable side. No threats, no blackmail, no bodyguards parked outside his office."
"Got it. Step 2?"
"Step 2: Let him see your decline. A little cough. A dizzy spell. Tragic beauty!"
Qingxue blinked. "Wait. Are you asking me to weaponize my cancer diagnosis?"
"It's literally your mission arc."
"…I feel like I need therapy."
"You can cry about that later. Step 3: Make him jealous."
Qingxue perked up. "Oho? Do we have a second male lead?"
"Yes!" Baozi beamed. "Enter: Lu Zeyan. Childhood friend of Qin Rourou. Rich. Handsome. Slightly evil. Deeply in love with her since middle school."
Qingxue gasped. "We have a second male lead with tragic pining? This is a proper novel now."
"He's due to visit tomorrow," Baozi added smugly. "You'll get a whole slow-motion reunion scene."
Qingxue practically glowed. "Perfect. Mo Chen sees me cry once, then boom! Childhood lover shows up with a bouquet and a handkerchief! Classic triple threat."
"Bonus points if you limp dramatically," Baozi nodded.
***
The next morning.
She was halfway into her most "I'm fragile but ethereal" outfit when the knock came again.
Same cold rhythm. Same emotionally unavailable vibes.
Qingxue steeled herself. "Remember, Baozi. I am not yandere. I am gentle, misunderstood, possibly dying, and heartbreakingly elegant."
The door opened.
Mo Chen stepped in again, neat and crisp in a grey shirt, holding something in his hand.
Qingxue tried to look pitiful. "Mo Chen…"
He walked up and dropped an envelope in her lap.
"This is the hospital bill from your last tantrum," he said coolly. "The one where you threw a wine bottle at my cousin and got stitches."
She stared at it.
So much for tragic beauty.
"Baozi," she said flatly. "Put dramatic recovery arc on hold. We're entering damage control mode."
Mo Chen turned to leave.
But this time, she stood and called after him, soft and serious.
"I'm not the same person I was."
He paused.
She continued, quieter this time. "I know I hurt you. But… I want to fix things. Not just between us. For me, too."
For a flicker of a second, his expression changed. Barely.
Then came the twist.
A voice from downstairs. Male. Cheerful.
"Rourou? It's me—Lu Zeyan!"
Mo Chen turned his head sharply.
Qingxue didn't even bother to hide her smug grin.
"Right on cue," she whispered.
Baozi screamed internally, "Let the love triangle BEGIN!"