The first thing that came back was the fall.
The rush of air.
The sharp chorus of voices rising in panic.
Then the impact—
Roses.
Petals scattering.
Pain—
No.
Fear.
Yonghui's eyes snapped open.
Her breath hitched as her hand pressed tightly against her chest, fingers curling into the fabric as she forced herself to steady her breathing.
"…tch."
In. Out. Again.
It took a moment before she realized the change.
She was seated upright, legs folded beneath her in a kneeling position.
Still. Balanced.
That alone made her pause.
Then she looked up. And froze.
"..what the..."
Someone was sitting in front of her.
someone...who looked exactly like her?.
Same face. Same features. Same presence.
The girl didn't move.
Didn't blink. Didn't react.
Yonghui stared for a second, then raised her hand and waved it lightly in front of the girl's face.
Nothing.
Her brows pulled together slightly as she glanced around.
White. Endless, empty white in every direction. No walls. No ceiling. No ground she could properly define.
Her gaze returned to the figure in front of her.
Still the same. Unmoving.
Yonghui made a face.
"…creepy."
" I expected a reaction like that."
"Ack."
"…but that's a bit harsh," the girl continued calmly, her eyes finally focusing. "Especially considering we look exactly alike."
Yonghui stared at her for a moment, then exhaled softly.
"…so I take it you're the original soul of this body," she said, tilting her head slightly. "And I'm the one currently using it."
It wasn't a question.
Silence followed.
Yonghui let out a small scoff, lifting a hand dismissively.
"Nevermind." she muttered. "That was a jok—"
"You are correct."
Yonghui froze.
Slowly, her hand lowered.
Her eyes lifted back to the girl.
"…what?"
"You are residing in my body," she said calmly. "And I am what remains of its original owner."
"I was joking."
The girl smiled softly. "And I was not."
Yonghui pushed herself to her feet.
"That's impossible," she snapped. "I didn't die, so how would my soul even leave my body?"
The girl looked up at her.
"You did."
Yonghui scoffed immediately.
"No. I wasn't in any situation that would—"
She stopped. "I fell from that balcony...."
Her eyes sharpened.
Before she fell— she had seen someone.
Someone that looked exactly like her.
She pointed straight at the original soul.
"…You!."
Her voice hardened.
"It was you. Because of you, I lost balance and fell."
Her voice lowered as she began to mutter to herself.
"…so what? I died because of that? No, I must be in a coma...i can't die. Yes, if I'm in a coma then there's still a chance I can return to my body. Yes."
"My soul was dragged to that moment," the original owner said calmly. "For a reason I do not know."
"But you should forget about that because it no longer matters."
"Shut up!"
Yonghui's voice cut through the space, sharp and immediate.
"You don't get to say that," she snapped. "I don't know about you, but I have a life back there. A family. Things I haven't finished."
Her chest rose slightly. " You can't just tell me to forget it like it's nothing."
She took another step forward, her gaze cold now.
"Take me back."
Silence.
The original owner exhaled softly.
"You cannot threaten me."
Yonghui didn't respond.
"I have nothing to lose," she continued. "And neither of us understands why you were brought here."
"And let me tell you, dying in that body is not an option. You cannot be certain you will return."
That hung in the air.
Yonghui's expression faltered—just slightly. She sat back down again as her legs went weak.
Yonghui covered her face with her hands. "This is not happening. This cannot be happening right now."
The original owner watched her for sometime before she spoke.
"I watched you.
Yonghui didn't react.
"At the residence," she added. "during your struggle."
A brief pause.
"You looked at Yanshu like you knew him though your face appeared to have some doubts."
Yonghui's voice came out lower now.
"…that wasn't Yanshu."
The original owner's gaze shifted slightly.
"…so there is also a Yanshu in your world?"
No answer but that alone was enough.
"I do not know about the Yanshu of your world," the original owner said calmly. "But the one you met—"
A faint pause.
"—is not someone you should take lightly."
Her eyes held Yonghui's.
"His disposition toward me was… cold. And now you're in my body, you will get the same treatment"
A beat.
"Only." she added, "...right now, you have been identified as something evil."
Yonghui didn't move.
"An unclean spirit," the girl finished quietly, "wearing the body of the dead."
Silence.
And this time, it didn't feel empty.
Yonghui didn't speak at first.
Everything was hitting too fast. Too much at once.
But she couldn't ignore it. Her gaze lifted back to the original owner.
"…what was that?" she asked finally, her voice lower now. "Back there… they were trying to kill me because of it."
The original owner didn't hesitate.
"It is a taboo."
Yonghui's brows pulled together.
"An unclean spirit inhabiting a dead body is seen as a bad omen," she continued. "It brings fear. Disorder. Misfortune."
A pause.
"And it is to be eliminated before it spreads."
"How the hell are they so sure of themselves that I'm a demon?" Yonghui thought it was ridiculous.
"A body is dead for five days and suddenly it awakens....what do you think?"
"Miracles happen." Yonghui replied instantly and the original owner gave her a look of disbelief.
Yonghui groaned. Of course, this is the ancient times where anything that happens unnaturally is tied to spirits. And now, she has been branded as one.
Yonghui let out a quiet breath, rubbing her temple.
"…great. So I woke up and immediately got a death sentence."
"This is the Shenping era, Reign of Emperor Li Wenyuan." the girl replied.
Yonghui frowned to herself. There was no such era in Chinese history.
"It is not much different from what you know, I assume." she said instead. "Politics. Power. Alliances. Betrayal."
A faint pause.
"Only that… there was a time when other things existed alongside it."
"People who could cultivate," she said. "Those who did not follow the limits of ordinary men."
Yonghui let out a dry breath, pressing her fingers harder against her temple.
"…this is starting to sound like a xianxia novel."
The original owner's tone remained even.
"But they have been absent for a long time because of the Emperor who hated them. And now… they are appearing again."
"I do not know much about that side," she continued. "But their return has made His Majesty more vigilant. And more ruthless."
Yonghui glanced at her.
"Anything tied to the unnatural is dealt with immediately," she said. "Before it becomes a threat."
Silence. Then the original owner stood.
Yonghui's eyes followed her.
"This place won't last for long," she said.
"In that world," the original owner continued, turning slightly away, "there are those who read the heavens. Astrologers. Diviners. People who interpret fate and what lies beyond it."
A brief pause.
"They may be your only path back."
Yonghui stood up quickly.
"You're serious?"
She gave a small nod.
"But it will not matter," she added, "if you do not survive."
That slowed Yonghui down.
"When this place disappears," the original owner said, "you will return to that world."
Her gaze shifted slightly.
"And you will not know what awaits you."
Yonghui's jaw tightened.
"So survive," she continued calmly. "If you do, you may reach the emperor. He's the only one that can save you."
Yonghui frowned.
"…the same emperor that hates everything you just described?"
A faint pause.
"I am an exception after all I am the emperor's goddaughter," the girl said.
"And now," she continued, "you are in my body.…so you're protected too."
"For now."
Silence.
Then, softer:
"But survival will not end your difficulties."
Yonghui didn't like the tone of that.
"There are other prejudices in that world," she added. "Some quieter. Some not."
A brief pause.
"You will understand soon enough."
Yonghui's eyes narrowed.
Then the original owner's form began to shift.
---
At first, it was subtle.
Then, petals. Rose petals.
They broke from her form, drifting into the white space.
Yonghui stepped forward.
"Hey—wait!"
The girl didn't stop.
"If you survive," she said, her voice already thinning with her form, "we may meet again."
A faint smile appeared on the girl's lips.
Then she was already fading.
Yonghui's voice cut through, sharper now—
" But you know, since when were there dark-skinned princesses in ancient times?!"
No answer, just a shrug.
And just before everything disappeared, that same small smile lingered.
Then, nothing.
———————
Yonghui's eyes snapped open.
Air hit her lungs too fast.
She jerked forward, coughing once, her left hand flying to her throat as if expecting it to still be locked in someone's grip.
It wasn't.
But the memory of it lingered. She exhaled slowly.
The first thing she noticed was the ceiling.
Wooden beams.
Carved.
Still.
Not home.
Her gaze shifted. Slowly. Carefully.
The room was dim, lit by a single lantern placed not too far from where she lay. The light didn't flicker. It held steady, revealing a space that was too orderly to be casual.
Nothing out of place.
Nothing unnecessary.
Yonghui stayed still for a moment, letting the memory of the white space settle at the back of her mind. The conversation with the original soul lingered like a half-finished echo she didn't fully trust yet.
Still, she pushed herself up. At least to understand where "here" was.
Her feet touched the floor. She took a step. Then another.
Clink.
Her body stopped before her thoughts caught up.
Yonghui looked down.
A chain.
Fastened to her right wrist.
For a moment, her mind simply refused to process it.
Then—
"…you've got to be kidding me."
Her brows tightened.
"People in this era really don't understand basic decency," she said coldly. "What is this, slavery?"
Her grip tightened slightly.
"…this is bringing back unpleasant memories."
She pulled.
Nothing.
The chain didn't even acknowledge her effort.
No movement. No shift. Just stubborn stillness, as if it had decided her strength was irrelevant.
Yonghui clicked her tongue in frustration.
Her gaze moved across the room. Searching. Measuring.
And then she saw it.
A sword.
Resting on a low table near the far side of the room.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"…that works."
She moved toward it.
The chain tightened as she walked, forcing her steps shorter, more controlled. Still, she reached out.
Fingers stretching.
Metal scraping faintly. She caught the hilt.
A small pause.
"…well then," she murmured, lifting it slightly. "At least someone here has taste."
She drew it fully.
The blade slid free with a clean sound—no resistance, no drag. Just precision.
Yonghui's eyes softened slightly as she studied it.
"…good balance," she said quietly. "Refined edge alignment… the forging isn't crude either."
She tilted it slightly, catching the lantern light.
"…layered tempering pattern… whoever made this didn't treat it like decoration. This is functional craftsmanship."
A faint breath left her.
"…not bad."
Her grip shifted. Stance adjusted.
She lowered herself slightly, positioning the blade toward the chain's anchor point.
"…let's see how strong you really are."
She swung.
At the same moment, the door opened.
Li Yanshu stepped in.
His eyes moved instantly and landed on her stance.
On the chain. On the blade.
He understood immediately.
"...I should stop her.." he thought as he watched. "..but.."
But it was already in motion.
Yonghui brought the sword down.
The moment metal met metal—
The sound didn't echo like normal impact.
It answered.
A sharp pulse of force snapped outward—not violent, but immediate. Controlled. Like the strike had awakened something that didn't appreciate being tested.
Yonghui was thrown back slightly, forced to step away as the recoil traveled up her arm.
The sword slipped from her grip and slid across the floor.
It stopped right at Yanshu's feet.
He looked down añd picked it up without haste.
Only then did Yonghui register him.
The light from the lanterns shifted subtly as he stood there.
It didn't just illuminate him—it outlined him.
Dark robes, layered and precise, fell in clean lines that didn't crease easily, as if even fabric had learned discipline in his presence. The outer layer was deep and muted, absorbing most of the lantern glow, while the inner edges caught it faintly—tracing the structure beneath.
His silhouette didn't feel decorated.
It felt controlled.
Contained.
Like something sealed rather than dressed.
His gaze lifted.
Met hers.
And the room, for a moment, felt like it had stopped negotiating.
Yonghui rolled her shoulder once as she steadied herself, the recoil still faintly buzzing down her arm.
She looked at him and said flatly,
"…Oh? It's you."
Yanshu didn't answer immediately.
His gaze moved over her once—measured, unreadable—before he shifted his sword to his side. Not relaxed. Not aggressive either. Just ready.
Yonghui noticed it instantly.
And then she noticed the way the blade caught the lantern light.
A faint glimmer ran along its edge.
She let out a small chuckle.
"…what? So you're the owner of the sword?" she said, tilting her head. "Ah… and it's such a fine piece too. Doesn't really match you."
Her fingers brushed lightly against her chin as if she were genuinely evaluating it.
A pause.
Then she shrugged.
"Though I guess they do say opposites attract."
Yanshu's eyes narrowed slightly.
Then he spoke. Cold.
Controlled.
"You don't seem particularly concerned about your current situation."
Yonghui smiled—small, cheeky, unfazed.
"Well," she said lightly, "they say when the coffin is already closed, you might as well joke inside it."
A pause.
Her smile widened a fraction.
"…or something like that."
Yanshu closed his eyes briefly, as if discarding something unnecessary.
When he opened them again, the air felt heavier.
"But then," he said, voice quieter now, sharper in intent, "what else should I expect from creatures like you…"
His gaze locked onto her.
"…who treat what does not belong to them as entertainment."
A pause.
"Disrespectful."
Yonghui's smile didn't drop. But something beneath it shifted.
She saw it now. Clearly. He was angry.
The kind that didn't need volume to be dangerous.
Normally… she would never have spoken to Yanshu like this.
Not even in her wildest moments.
Over her dead body.
And yet, this one—
Something about him made it easy. Too easy.
Or maybe it was the frustration. Yeah, that's gotta be it.
After all, the guy tried to kill her. Not once, but twice.
Her smile stayed. But her eyes watched him carefully now.
Yanshu stepped forward slightly. Not enough to close the distance. Just enough to claim the space.
When he spoke, his voice no longer sounded like a question.
"The body of a noble has been defiled," he said. Measured. Cold.
Like a judgment already passed.
"An unclean spirit has taken residence within it."
A pause.
"It will be dealt with accordingly."
A decree.
Yonghui's smile stilled.
Then, he moved. One motion.
The distance vanished.
Yonghui's eyes widened, just a fraction
Steel flashed. And the strike fell.
Cut.