The next morning, I woke with the city's skyline burning gold with the sunrise. Every breath felt sharper, heavier, like it carried the weight of my mission. I had been reborn, yes—but being reborn was just the beginning. What I did with this life was what mattered.
Breakfast passed in silence. The servants avoided my gaze, as they always did, and I allowed them that comfort. They didn't know me. They didn't know what I could do.
Once I finished, I stepped out of the house and into the streets—a world I had once seen from the outside, only able to dream of entering. Limousines glided past, businessmen in crisp suits shouted into their phones, and the city pulsed like a living organism. It was intoxicating. Power was intoxicating. And I was part of it now.
I had one goal today: find out everything about Feng Jiaran.
He was careful, meticulous, untouchable in every sense—but everyone had cracks. Everyone had a weakness. And I intended to find his.
A call came in. My "father's assistant," or whoever I was supposed to believe these people were, informed me of a gala tonight. A charity event hosted by none other than Jiaran's company. Perfect. He would be there. I would be there. And tonight, I would make my first move.
The hours dragged slowly, each one an exercise in patience. I reviewed every detail I could about Jiaran: past business dealings, public appearances, even rumors whispered in exclusive circles. He was precise, ruthless, and impossible to read—but I had something he didn't. Knowledge from a past life.
By evening, I was ready.
The gala was a sea of glittering gowns and tailored suits. Chandeliers reflected off marble floors, casting light across faces that all seemed to be wearing masks of wealth and superiority. I moved through the crowd effortlessly, a silent predator in heels. No one could stop me. No one could even touch me—not yet.
Then, I saw him.
Feng Jiaran.
He stood near the bar, a glass of something dark in his hand. His suit was flawless, every movement deliberate. He scanned the crowd with that unreadable expression, eyes sharp enough to cut steel. And for a split second, I felt that old, familiar burn of anger—the same anger I had carried in my previous life.
But this time… I didn't flinch. I didn't hesitate.
I approached, my steps measured, my posture calm, confident. People parted slightly, sensing I wasn't ordinary. My gaze locked with his.
Recognition flickered in his eyes. Or maybe curiosity. He didn't move, didn't smile. He just watched.
"Miss Lin," he said finally, his voice low, smooth, and edged with something dangerous. "I don't believe we've met."
I tilted my head, smiling faintly, letting the power in my eyes speak before my words. "Not yet, Mr. Feng. But I imagine we will, very soon."
He raised an eyebrow. There was interest there. I could feel it. The first crack in his impenetrable armor.
"I hope your night is… enjoyable," he said, still watching me, like a hunter observing a potential threat—or prey.
I smiled, turning slightly, letting the crowd shield me. "I'll make sure it is."
And then I disappeared into the party, melting into the throng of guests, leaving him with a single thought: Who is she?
The night passed in a blur of champagne glasses and whispered conversations. I learned more about him in those few hours than I ever could have imagined. Jiaran didn't trust easily, didn't laugh, didn't falter—but he did notice everything. Small gestures, fleeting expressions, even the way I moved through a room. Every second, he was cataloging me.
I could feel it.
And I liked it.
Finally, as the gala wound down, I slipped away to the balcony, the city sprawled below me like a map I intended to conquer. My phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number:
"You've caught his attention. Don't waste it."
I smirked. My first move had been made, and now the real game would begin. I could almost feel the tension building between us, unspoken but electric. The thrill of power, of control, of revenge—it was intoxicating.
But I knew better than to act too soon. Jiaran was a puzzle, and every piece I moved had to be deliberate. One wrong step, and he could destroy me before I even reached him.
And yet… I wanted him to notice me. I wanted the game to be personal.
I turned back toward the room, my reflection in the glass showing a woman reborn, powerful, unyielding. Lin Xinyue was no longer a victim. She was the storm coming for anyone who had ever crossed her.
And Feng Jiaran… he was standing directly in the eye of that storm.
As I slipped back inside, I felt someone brush past me. A whisper in the shadows: "Be careful, Miss Lin. He is more dangerous than you think."