Rebirth

I transmigrated into a tragedy novel.

I became the true daughter of the Jiang family—abandoned by my parents, unloved, and kidnapped as a child.

No matter what I said, nobody believed me. Instead, they were convinced I was malicious and scheming, trying to frame the fake daughter.

It wasn’t until I got cancer and took my own life that they finally woke up and saw the truth.

They cried. They regretted. They mourned me.

The System said excitedly, “After you die, they can never have you again.”

“From now on, their whole lives will be filled with nothing but pain and regret.”

“You’ve used your life to take revenge on them! You’ve made them lose what they love most!”

I frowned. Cancer? A tragedy novel?

Then I turned around and slit my own throat.

I became a vengeful ghost.

In my second year as empress, I fell ill and was left barren. From then on, I could no longer bear children.

The emperor turned his favor to Consort Zhen and spent ten years doting on her through seven pregnancies.

Then the imperial physician knelt before the emperor and said Consort Zhen did not have long to live.

The moment I fell ill in this life, I already knew the day Consort Zhen would die.

After all, in my previous life, the one who died was me.

The Cui family precepts held that a daughter of the Cui clan married no merchant and became no concubine.

So when the edict naming me a Noble Consort arrived, the great aristocratic families all assumed that the new emperor meant to humiliate our house.

And yet I did not hesitate to break with my family and entered the palace in that small sedan chair.

Because I had already died twice.

This was the third life I had been given.

When I opened my eyes, I found I had been reborn in a vocational school bathroom.

The girl who had just given birth to me was wearing a shabby cotton-padded coat. She sat on the ice-cold tile floor, staring at me in terror.

She glared at me. Then she raised her bloodstained hands and reached to strangle me.

Right on cue, the System notification rang out: “Current location: the women’s restroom on the west side of the third floor of the teaching building at Maocheng Senior Vocational Technical School. Your first mission: survive your biological mother.”

Me: ? Damn. Straight into nightmare mode.

My elder sister disappeared when she was little, but fortune favored her: the Yong’an Marquis household took her in and raised her with every comfort.

By the time she returned to us, our mother had already arranged one marriage for her, while the marquis household had promised her to someone else.

One man was the adoptive brother who had grown up beside her; the other, her childhood betrothed.

Unable to let either go, she proposed a compromise: she would marry whichever man found the jade hairpin she hid.

The day she hid hers, however, she hid mine as well.

In my last life, Wei Heng found a hairpin first, but the one in his hand belonged to me.

The smile had barely touched his lips when her adoptive brother said coldly, “You cannot even recognize Ah Zhi’s hairpin. I suppose that leaves you no choice but to marry Ranran.”

After we married, every quarrel between my sister and her husband sent her running to Wei Heng in tears.

His heart ached for her, and his old regret never faded.

“If you had married me,” he would murmur, “I would never have made you cry. Not even once.”

I found them together beneath the moon, composing poems, and side by side among the spring blossoms.

Whenever I showed the slightest displeasure, Wei Heng called me jealous and narrow-minded, saying I could never match my sister’s poetry or painting.

Now I had returned to the day Wei Heng picked up my hairpin.

I held out my hand.

“Young Master Wei, Mother is already considering matches for me. Please return my hairpin.”

I took an arrow for my husband and suffered grave internal injuries.

After four years recuperating on an estate in the south, I returned to the capital and found another woman had taken my place.

My son relied on her, my daughter adored her, my mother-in-law valued her, and even in our marriage bed, my husband called out her name.

I could not bear it and made a scene.

Together, they drove me to my death so the obstacle I had become would disappear and they could live happily as one family.

For twenty years, I wandered as a ghost and watched the end they brought upon themselves.

Then I was reborn on the road home.

I had returned.

“Don’t go back to the estate yet; I want to visit the Empress Dowager in the palace,” I said.

My young mistress was a transmigrator.

She declared arranged marriage unacceptable and ruined the match between me and the childhood sweetheart I had hoped to marry.

Then she insisted that women should not be trapped inside the home and forced me to enlist with her.

We became separated from our unit and stranded in a vast desert without water.

I risked my life to obtain two barrels of water from desert bandits and repeatedly warned her to ration it.

While I slept, she used every drop to wash her hair and bathe.

I died of thirst, while she emerged spotless and was rescued by the passing Crown Prince.

When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day she first tried to persuade me to enlist.