I woke up at dawn, not because I was disciplined, but because I fell out of bed.
"OW."
Xiao Mei rushed in, already dressed. How long had she been awake? "Miss! Are you—why are you on the floor?"
"Testing the floor again," I groaned, peeling my face off the wood. "Still stable. Good to know."
In my old life, I'd been a graphic designer with a caffeine addiction and a Netflix subscription. My most strenuous activity was walking to the fridge. Now I was supposed to be a cultivator who could fly on swords and shoot energy blasts and do... whatever cultivators did.
I was doomed.
"Xiao Mei," I said, still lying on the floor. "I need you to be honest with me. Can I actually fly on a sword?"
"Of course, Miss! You've done it hundreds of times."
"But can I do it NOW? After hitting my head?"
Xiao Mei hesitated. "Perhaps... we should practice?"
Twenty minutes later, I stood in the training courtyard behind my residence, staring at the sword in my hands. It was beautiful—jade handle, gleaming silver blade, mysterious symbols etched along its length. It was also terrifying.
"So," I said slowly. "I just... stand on it?"
"You channel your qi through your meridians, focus it into the sword, and will it to fly," Xiao Mei recited. "As you've done since you were eight years old."
Right. Qi. Meridians. Cultivation nonsense that my modern brain didn't understand.
I closed my eyes and tried to "feel" my qi. The original Yuying's memories were fuzzy at best, but I could sense... something. Like a warm current running through my body.
"Okay," I muttered. "Okay, I can do this. Just... qi into the sword. Simple."
I channeled the energy downward.
The sword began to glow.
"Miss, that's wonderful!" Xiao Mei clapped.
Emboldened, I channeled more qi.
The sword glowed brighter.
Then it started vibrating.
"Um," I said.
Then it shot out of my hands like a rocket, spiraled through the air, crashed through the roof of the storage shed, and exploded a watermelon that had been sitting on a barrel.
Xiao Mei and I stared at the destruction.
"I think," Xiao Mei said carefully, "you used too much qi."
"YOU THINK?"
"Perhaps we should try a different approach."
For the next hour, I attempted various methods of sword-flying:
Standing on it (fell off immediately)
Sitting on it (more stable, but Xiao Mei said it "wasn't dignified")
Lying on it like a surfboard (actually worked briefly until I panicked and fell off)
By attempt number fifteen, I'd crashed into a tree, fallen in the koi pond, and somehow gotten my robes tangled in a training dummy.
"Miss," Xiao Mei said gently, wringing water from my sleeves. "Perhaps you should tell the Sect Leader you're not ready."
"I can't! If I show weakness, the plot might... I mean, Father will be disappointed."
More disappointed, I didn't say. The memories I'd inherited showed me that original Yuying's relationship with her father was complicated. He expected greatness. She desperately wanted his approval. It never quite worked out.
"Let's try one more time," I said, dripping pond water.
I picked up the sword, took a deep breath, and tried to remember everything I'd learned. Channel qi slowly. Focus. Believe in yourself and all that inspirational poster nonsense.
The sword lifted.
I stepped onto it carefully.
It held.
"I'm doing it!" I gasped. "Xiao Mei, I'm actually—"
The sword lurched forward.
"—FLYING!"
I was flying.
For approximately three seconds.
Then I looked down, remembered I was afraid of heights, panicked, lost concentration, and the sword bucked me off like a mechanical bull.
I landed in a decorative bush.
Face first.
"MISS LIAN!"
That wasn't Xiao Mei's voice.
I extracted myself from the bush (getting leaves in places leaves should never go) and came face-to-face with three male disciples in the blue and silver robes of the Jade Phoenix Sect.
One of them was jaw-droppingly handsome. Tall, elegant, with features so perfect they looked carved from marble. His long dark hair was tied with a silver ribbon, and his eyes were the cold gray of a winter sky.
Oh no.
I knew this face too.
Shen Qingyun. The male lead. The man original Yuying was obsessed with. The man who would eventually watch her die without lifting a finger because he hated her so much.
And I was currently covered in pond water and leaves, standing in a destroyed bush.
Great first impression, really.
"Senior Brother Shen," one of the other disciples whispered. "Is that... Senior Sister Lian?"
Shen Qingyun's expression was perfectly blank, but I could see the judgment in his eyes.
"I heard Senior Sister Lian was recovering from an injury. I see the rumors of her... condition... were accurate."
Was he insulting me? That sounded like an insult.
Original Yuying would have said something cutting and cruel. She'd have tried to save face by being haughty.
I, however, was too tired and wet to care.
"Yep," I said, pulling a leaf out of my hair. "This is my condition. Terminal clumsiness. Very tragic. The physicians are baffled."
Shen Qingyun blinked. Apparently that wasn't the response he expected.
One of his companions snickered.
"I apologize for disturbing your training, Senior Sister," Shen Qingyun said stiffly. "We were passing by and heard the... explosions."
"That was the watermelon."
"The... watermelon."
"It's dead now. Gave its life for my education." I bowed slightly, wobbled because my robes were waterlogged, and caught myself on the bush. "Please don't let me keep you from... whatever protagonists do. Brooding? Looking dramatically into the distance?"
Did I just say that out loud?
Yes. Yes, I did.
Shen Qingyun's eye twitched. Ha! I was collecting eye twitches like Pokemon. Father's, now his.
"I assure you, Senior Sister, I do not brood."
"Sure. And I don't crash into things. We're both very capable."
Why couldn't I shut up? What was wrong with me?
His companions were openly grinning now. Shen Qingyun's perfect composure was developing cracks.
"I wish you luck with your... recovery," he said coldly. "Try not to destroy any more produce."
He turned to leave, his robes swirling dramatically (how did everyone make that look so easy?), but paused and glanced back.
"The sect meeting is tomorrow. I assume you'll be attending?"
It was phrased as a question, but it felt like a challenge.
Original Yuying would have preened and boasted. I was just trying not to cry.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," I said instead. "I'll be the one flying gracefully through the air."
"Indeed." His tone suggested he thought I'd be the one crashing through the roof. "I look forward to it."
Then he left, his disciples trailing behind. I could hear them whispering and laughing.
Great. Now the male lead thought I was an idiot.
Which, to be fair, I was currently acting like.
"Miss," Xiao Mei said gently. "Perhaps you should rest now. You've been training for hours."
I looked at the destroyed courtyard. Broken roof, exploded watermelon, traumatized koi (they were hiding under lotus pads), one very sad bush.
"Xiao Mei?"
"Yes, Miss?"
"What happens if I just... don't go to the sect meeting?"
"The Sect Leader would be very disappointed. And the other disciples would gossip. They already say you're..." She trailed off.
"They already say I'm what?"
"Nothing, Miss."
"Xiao Mei."
She sighed. "They say you're obsessed with Senior Brother Shen. That you show off at every opportunity to gain his attention. That you're... vain and cruel and—" She looked horrified. "I shouldn't have said that! Miss, I'm so sorry!"
I waved her off. "It's fine. That's what original—I mean, that's what I used to be like."
Used to be. Past tense. Because I wasn't the original Yuying. I was a transmigrator desperately trying not to die.
But how could I explain that?
"Miss?"
"I want to change," I said suddenly. "No more showing off. No more being cruel. I'm going to be... better."
Xiao Mei's eyes went wide. "Miss, did you hit your head harder than we thought?"
"Probably. But I'm serious. Starting now, new Yuying. Better Yuying. Yuying who doesn't explode watermelons."
"That's... very admirable, Miss."
"There's just one problem."
"What's that?"
"I still have to fly on a sword in front of the entire sect tomorrow, and I absolutely cannot do that without dying."
We both stared at the sword, which was currently stuck blade-first in the ground, still faintly glowing with residual qi.
"We're doomed," we said in unison.
That night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, trying to form a plan.
The system helpfully popped up again.
[WARNING: Major Plot Point in 14 hours!]
[The Sect Meeting Entrance]
[Original Outcome: Lian Yuying makes a graceful entrance, impresses everyone, establishes herself as a powerful antagonist]
[Your Current Skill Level: HAHAHAHA no]
[Suggestion: Fake illness? Fake death? Actual death would also solve the problem! But failure to carry out major plot scenes would result in severe punishment!]
"You're the worst system ever," I told it.
[Thank you! ♡]
It vanished.
I pulled the covers over my head and tried to think. There had to be a way to survive this. I just needed to—
A crash from outside made me bolt upright.
Xiao Mei burst into the room. "Miss! Someone's broken into the storage pavilion!"
Perfect. Because my day wasn't bad enough already.
I grabbed the closest thing that looked like a weapon (a decorative hair pin, very threatening) and rushed outside in my sleeping robes.
The storage pavilion was... full of monkeys.
I'm not joking. Actual monkeys. Everywhere. Ransacking the place, eating the spirit fruits, throwing things around.
"How—" I started.
Then I saw it. The hole in the roof. The hole MY SWORD had made earlier.
The monkeys had gotten in through the hole I'd created.
"This is my fault," I said weakly.
The largest monkey looked at me, chattered something that sounded judgmental, and threw a spirit peach at my head.
I dodged (barely) and slipped on a rolling fruit (of course) and fell backward.
Right into Shen Qingyun, who had apparently come to investigate the noise.
He caught me (his reflexes were annoyingly good) and immediately set me upright like I was contaminated.
"Senior Sister Lian," he said, voice dripping with barely concealed disdain. "Are these... your monkeys?"
"No! Yes? I mean—it's complicated."
A monkey landed on his head.
The great Shen Qingyun, legendary sword cultivator, stood frozen with a monkey on his head.
It started grooming his perfect hair.
I couldn't help it.
I laughed.
Not a delicate laugh. A full, snorting, doubled-over laugh.
"This isn't funny," he said coldly, but the monkey was now braiding his hair ribbon.
"It's a little funny."
"Remove this creature immediately."
"I don't speak monkey!"
Another disciple arrived—one of Shen Qingyun's friends from earlier—took one look at the scene, and promptly turned around. "I'm not here. This isn't happening. I saw nothing."
It took an hour to clear out the monkeys (they left peacefully once we gave them all the spirit fruits). By the end, Shen Qingyun's perfect hair was a mess, I was covered in fruit juice, and the storage pavilion looked like a tornado had hit it.
"This," Shen Qingyun said, picking a leaf out of his hair, "is why you should be more careful with your cultivation techniques."
"It was an accident!"
"Your accidents have accidents."
He wasn't wrong.
"I'll fix the roof tomorrow," I promised.
"You'll be at the sect meeting tomorrow. Remember?"
Oh right. The thing I was definitely going to die at.
"Right. The meeting. Where I'll definitely fly gracefully and not crash into anything."
"Your confidence is inspiring if not remotely believable." He started to walk away, then paused. "Senior Sister Lian?"
"Yes?"
"Try not to bring monkeys to the meeting."
Then he left.
I stood in the ruins of the storage pavilion, covered in fruit juice, and thought: Tomorrow is going to be a disaster.
Xiao Mei appeared beside me. "Miss, I've prepared a bath and—Miss, why are you smiling?"
"Because," I said, "it can't possibly get worse than this."
Famous last words.