Short story

Lin Du only wanted to transmigrate into a lavish new life.

Instead, a malfunctioning system drops her into a man’s body inside an adult film and orders her to complete twelve intimate plot missions with Qin Ruanruan, the neglected wife of Zhou Bai.

Lin Du plans to treat it as work: finish the scenes, collect her rewards, and escape.

But her sharp tongue, shameless confidence, and unexpected tenderness derail the script.

Qin Ruanruan falls for her, Zhou Bai’s jealousy turns into something far more complicated, and every completed mission makes staged desire harder to separate from genuine feeling.

When the final checkpoint arrives, Lin Du must decide whether she is still following a plot—or choosing the people who have begun to want her for real.

My father had held the imperial court in his grip for years.

He sent me into the palace and forced the emperor to take me as his empress.

On our wedding day, the young emperor and I came to blows.

With bloody scratches across his face, he swore, “Xiao Lingyue, I will wipe out your entire clan. Just wait!”

For six years, I strutted through the palace and clashed with him at every turn—until my father’s rebellion failed…

Her eldest son was devoted to a two-faced woman he thought was his one true love.

In a fit of rage, my future mother-in-law conceived a second child—and promised me to him instead.

I stared miserably at my still-unborn new fiancé and tactfully suggested that this might, possibly, perhaps be a little inappropriate.

She slapped the golden, glowing egg so hard it rang, and declared with absolute conviction that if her second son let me down too, she would simply have a third.

Me: Excuse me?

The good news: I’d landed in a Journey to the West fanfic.

The bad news: I was a snake spirit who survived exactly one episode.

To stay alive, I lied that Guanyin had sent me and became Tang Sanzang’s disciple.

Eldest Brother was stunned.

“We’ve already cleared fifty-four of the eighty-one trials, and you’re only joining us now?”

“Ha ha.

That’s what having connections gets you.”

The day the bandages came off my eyes, he never showed up; instead, I received a message from his childhood sweetheart.

“You may have saved him, but don’t try to hold it over his head. He doesn’t have time to pick you up, so make your own way home.”

I called him, only for him to hang up the instant his phone rang.

When I finally saw him again three days later, he demanded to know why I had sent such a message to slander his precious childhood sweetheart.

I watched the aura of fortune above his head hemorrhage away.

Suddenly, accepting that I was the heroine of a melodramatic angst novel did not seem so difficult after all.

My father was a professor at a prestigious university, and my mother held a doctorate in literature.

But only my older sister inherited their brilliant genes.

As for me, all I could do was chant “Makka Pakka,” the bitter little gourd their family tree had produced.

When my parents divorced, my sister chose Dad.

“I don’t want a retarded little sister,” she said.

I turned to Mom. “Be happy, Mommy. Makka Pakka!”

Luckily, Mom took my advice: she happily quit her job and started a company.

Years later, Dad nearly drove my genius sister out of her mind.

And I, still Makka-Pakka-ing my way through life, became the daughter of a millionaire.

By the year 3026, society’s race to the bottom had accelerated beyond control.

Pregnancy ruined a woman’s career prospects, so I had my uterus removed to improve my chances of finding work.

HR rejected me anyway.

The reason was simple.

“I’m sorry, but you have a twelve-hour gap in your employment history. That’s far too long.”

In college, I once “bought” myself a girlfriend.

If she agreed to be with me, I would cover her family’s medical bills.

Humiliated, the brilliant scholarship student from a poor family stayed with me for four years.

Then my family went bankrupt.

When I broke up with her, she was as cold as ever. She did not ask me to stay—not even once.

Years later, I was serving fruit platters at a karaoke club to pay off my family’s debts. She had become a CEO and was dating the handsome star from our class.

She asked me, “Do you regret it?”

“No.”

“Well, I do.”

After failing my mission, I returned to my own world.

I married and had another child.

Then, seven years later, the System found me.

“Your former target’s mental state has become dangerously unstable.

“And your first son keeps demanding to see you.

“Host, could you go back and visit them?”

My father drowned while building a bridge for the village.

Our stepmother beat and berated us, and everyone thought she treated us terribly.

Years later, my brother rose to high office, and the emperor granted her the title of Lady of Imperial Mandate. Only when she stood at the height of honor did everyone finally understand: beneath her cutting tongue was the softest heart.