Are xiaolongbao [1]tasty enough to die?
If Lin Xiu was asked this question before, she would undoubtedly snap at them—Hell yeah! with the confidence of someone who'd never actually faced death-by-dumpling.
But now, as she faced the unknown woman in the mirror, she couldn't mutter those words anymore.
"...How could this happen?" She muttered to herself.
Lin Xiu was just your regular, average girl. She slept through lectures, gamed until sunrise, and somehow bullshitted her way into a corporate job where her greatest skill was nodding solemnly in meetings. Her life plan had been simple: survive capitalism, start a family, maybe adopt a cat, and die quietly in her sleep at 90.
At least, that was how it should have gone, instead, she'd been isekai'd by pork soup...
She remembered the warm steam rising from the bamboo basket, the tantalizing aroma of freshly steamed xiaolongbao[2] wafting into the air. It was her one joy in life—well, that and pretending to work while actually online shopping. She picked up a plump dumpling, mouth watering, and greedily bit into it.
She'd just taken her first glorious bite when—Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her ex-boyfriend strolling past the restaurant window, his arm draped around a busty woman whose skirt was shorter than Lin Xiu's attention span in meetings.
Caught off guard, she gasped, coughing violently, her hands flailing for a napkin. But before she could grasp anything—
Everything went dark.
Death by soup dumpling was not the glorious end Lin Xiu had imagined for herself...
And then—
"Ying'er! Ying'er, wake up!"
A sharp slap stung her cheek.
Lin Xiu's eyes flew open. She was about to curse—what the hell was the slap for?—only to freeze.
Soft silk sheets. A carved wooden bed. A middle-aged woman in elaborate robes hovering over her, eyes red-rimmed with tears.
What the hell?
"Thank the heavens," the middle-aged woman breathed, pressing a hand to her chest. "You foolish child, how could you do this to us?"
Lin Xiu's mouth opened, but no sound came out—her throat burned with pain. Then she saw it—the noose dangling ominously in the corner.
Oh.
Oh.
She had transmigrated.
And the original owner of this body had just hanged herself.
Damn it...
A week had passed since that fated day.
"Sigh.."
Back to the present, Lin Xiu—no, Ling Xiuying—stared at her reflection in the mirror.
A white oval face with soft features. Although she was not a breathtaking beauty, she was still a pretty girl, much better looking than her average face from before, but even so, she missed her old face. And her phone. And indoor plumbing..
She sighed again and turned her gaze to the round-faced girl waiting anxiously by her side.
"Tell me, are there going to be xiaolongbao[3] at the family dinner?"
The girl, her maid called Tao Tao quickly shook her head. "No, Young Miss. As you instructed, I told the cooks to completely prohibit the dish."
Ling Xiuying nodded, exhaling deeply.
"Good, let's go."
She really couldn't stomach the soup dumplings after everything that had happened: Upon waking up, she hadn't inherited the original owner's memories, but thankfully, since her throat was still sore and she was unable to speak, she avoided making any mistakes. After a thorough examination, the physician had ordered her to rest for a week, and now that seven days had passed, it was finally agreed that "everything" would be discussed at tonight's dinner.
Her eyes turned to Tao Tao—the only person here dumber than a sack of rice, bless her heart. Thankfully, this girl was here. She was either excessively loyal or just terrible at noticing imposters and clumsy enough not to question why she kept asking about things she should've known.
Thanks to that, Ling Xiuying now knew the names of all the Ling family members. Also, she finally knew why the original Ling Xiuying took her own life.
It was really something simple and tragic befitting ancient times...
An arranged marriage.
Had the original been in love with someone else, so much so that she would rather die than marry another? Or was her arranged husband a disgusting person? Ling Xiuying didn't know.
Tao Tao didn't speak no matter how hard she tried.
But it didn't matter.
Anyway, she already planned on escaping tonight.
Tao Tao followed closely behind as Ling Xiuying stepped out of her room. As a modern person, she tripped several times while walking in such complicated clothing, her back slouching—a habit formed from years of working at a computer in her 9-to-5 job.
There was nothing elegant about her. Even when she consciously tried to improve, she couldn't maintain proper posture, nor could she master the graceful way of walking, standing, or sitting, at all times like a true ancient woman.
It was apparent, she was no noble lady.
Thankfully, the servants bowed as she passed, keeping their heads lowered. Until now, no one had noticed anything. But that would soon change. She silently gulped as she approached the Ling family's main hall.
She could hear faint murmurs drifting from the main hall, the low hum of conversation between her so-called family members. The scent of delicious food filled the air, but instead of making her hungry as usual, it only reminded her that she was walking into a battlefield—one where she didn't even know the rules.
She paused just outside the doors, inhaling deeply.
'Common Lin Xiu! This is nothing compared to those capitalists! You may not know how to hold a teacup properly, but you've given PowerPoint presentations to a room full of executives on three hours of sleep. Just nod, smile, and don't choke on your own spit. You got this!'
Reaching the entrance of the dining hall, she took a slow breath, steeling herself and repeatedly reminding herself of the etiquette she had seen in palace dramas as much as possible.
The doors opened, revealing a long, lacquered table filled with delicacies—and a room full of people who had already taken their seats.
All conversation halted as every pair of eyes turned toward her.
Ling Xiuying lowered her gaze slightly, just enough to appear demure. She had no idea what the original Xiuying's mannerisms were like, so it was best to stay cautious.
She stepped forward, her pulse at 220 per second but her face calm—a skill she had learned in her past life while presenting to her superiors at work.
"Come, sit." The man at the head of the table spoke, according to Tao Tao, it was the original's father, Ling Renshu.
She moved toward the only empty seat at the table, acutely aware of every glance, every hushed whisper. This was it—the moment they would decide her fate.
And after this dinner, she would commence her escape.
[1] Soup dumplings
[2] soup dumplings
[3] soup dumplings