There are three things Lin Yue absolutely hated in this world: cliffhanger endings, cold showers, and her unpaid university tuition.
She didn't ask for much in life. A stable WiFi signal, instant noodles without MSG guilt, and maybe—just maybe—her favorite manhwa heroine not dying after 400 chapters of painfully slow-burn romance. Was that so hard?
Apparently, yes. Because when she hit the final page of Celestial Consort: Love Under Moonlight and saw the words: "TO BE CONTINUED... IN NEXT LIFE," she did what any emotionally unstable, under-caffeinated twenty-one-year-old would do.
She screamed.
Loudly.
Then she threw her phone at the ceiling and shouted, "WHAT KIND OF CRACK ENDING IS THAT? I WASTED SIX MONTHS FOR A SPIRITUAL DEATH WISH AND A KISS THAT DIDN'T EVEN LAND?!"
The phone bounced off the ceiling, ricocheted off a plushie shaped like a dumpling, and landed squarely in her bowl of cold noodles. The universe was mocking her.
A rumble echoed in the sky.
Thunder, dramatic and theatrical. Lin Yue stared at the ceiling of her tiny rented apartment.
"Wow. Even the weather's sick of my taste in plot twists."
She sighed, stood up, and dramatically pointed a chopstick to the sky. "HEAVENS ABOVE, IF I'M SO DUMB FOR READING THAT GARBAGE, WHY DON'T YOU JUST—"
And that's when the lightning hit.
Literally.
There was no time for a flash. No time for a slow-motion scream. Just a blinding white light, a crackling snap, and the overwhelming scent of burnt socks.
Then: darkness.
---
When Lin Yue opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was... wood.
Specifically, the inside of a coffin.
She sat up with the grace of a zombie fresh out of a thriller MV and banged her head on the coffin lid.
"OW! What the hell—? Am I dead?! Did my WiFi debt follow me into the afterlife?!"
She shoved the heavy lid open with a grunt, tumbling out into cold, dewy grass. The air smelled like jasmine and existential dread. Her brain was doing somersaults, trying to process what had happened.
She looked around. Trees. Lanterns. A bonfire. A bunch of terrified people in traditional Hanfu staring at her like she was a resurrected chicken.
One man screamed, "THE DEMONESS HAS RISEN!"
Another shouted, "She lives! THE CURSE IS REAL!"
Lin Yue blinked. "Excuse me? Demoness? I moisturize, thank you."
Suddenly, someone threw salt at her face.
She coughed. "Okay. Rude."
Then it hit her. Not the salt—the realization.
This wasn't Seoul. This wasn't even Earth, probably. The outfits, the torches, the eerie chants—she'd either landed in ancient China or a very niche LARPing cult.
She stumbled to her feet, tripped on her overly long robes, and landed face-first in a ceremonial offering plate.
"Blessed ancestors, give me strength," she muttered through a mouthful of sticky rice.
A woman dressed like an angry peacock approached, eyes narrowed. "You dare rise after your execution, Bai Ling? Are you truly so desperate to cling to this world?"
Lin Yue looked behind her. No one there.
"Sorry, Bai who now? I think you've got the wrong girl. I'm Lin Yue, part-time ramen addict, full-time disappointment—"
The angry peacock slapped her.
Hard.
"YOU WILL ADDRESS THE ELDERS WITH RESPECT, WRETCH!"
Lin Yue staggered back, blinking. "Ma'am, I don't even address my landlord with respect. Please lower your feather levels."
Suddenly, the world tilted. Pain bloomed behind her eyes. A flood of memories—not hers—rushed in.
Bai Ling. Noble daughter. Accused of cursing the Emperor's cat. Executed by decree. Betrayed by fiancé. Reborn with revenge.
Lin Yue gasped. "Oh no. I've transmigrated into a discount revenge arc!"
And so began her new life—as a dead girl, reborn, and somehow more hated than pineapple on pizza.
---
The next morning, Lin Yue sat in a cold, dim court chamber that smelled like incense and hypocrisy. In front of her stood a row of elders, all squinting as if her very presence offended their cataracts.
An old man with a beard so long it needed its own walking stick squawked, "This demoness dares rise after judgment! The heavens themselves should have struck her down!"
Lin Yue raised a hand. "Technically, the heavens did strike me. With lightning. So."
The court gasped.
"She admits to heavenly punishment!"
"She is marked!"
"Clearly, she's possessed by a rogue fox spirit!"
"I wish I were possessed by a fox spirit," Lin Yue muttered. "At least then I'd have good hair."
The angry peacock—now identified as Lady Wei, High Matron of the Bai Clan—screeched like a crow who'd stubbed her toe. "Do not listen to her blasphemous tongue! She killed the Emperor's sacred cat with dark magic!"
Lin Yue blinked. "Okay, what is it with this cat?"
"The cat vomited after drinking Bai Ling's tea!"
"Sounds like a lactose intolerance issue."
"Then it yawned thrice, meowed at the moon, and fell asleep backwards!"
Lin Yue tried not to laugh. "That's your evidence of dark magic? My cousin once passed out face-first into a watermelon. Is she a witch, too?"
Someone gasped. "Watermelon sorcery is forbidden!"
She rubbed her temples. "Dear heavens. I'm surrounded by idiots in cosplay."
Suddenly, a loud meow echoed through the court.
All heads turned.
A gold-carried platform was wheeled in, bearing the most spoiled, fluffy, judgmental feline Lin Yue had ever seen. It wore a jade collar. It was escorted by four eunuchs. It had its own guard.
"BEHOLD! THE SACRED EMPEROR'S CAT!"
It blinked lazily and sneezed.
Lin Yue looked at it. Then at the elders. Then back at the cat.
"So let me get this straight," she said slowly. "This entire court is accusing me of being a demonic witch... because that lump of fur had indigestion?"
"BLASPHEMY!"
"SILENCE!"
"KNEEL BEFORE THE SACRED WHISKERS!"
Lin Yue crossed her arms. "No."
The hall fell silent. Someone dropped a teacup.
Lin Yue sighed, standing up. Her heart thudded in her chest. If this was a trial, then fine. Let them see the full drama queen.
She stepped forward, eyes wide and crazy. She began to chant—nonsense, really. A spell she remembered from a manhwa comic, probably meant to summon moon bunnies or rice spirits.
"Oh mighty fish of vengeance, tremble ye before my power! Summon the noodles of fire!"
The court stared.
Then a torch exploded.
Yes. Exploded.
The flames danced across the floor, swirling up the court walls. Wind whipped through the chamber. The sacred cat yowled and peed on its platform. Elders screamed. Someone fainted.
Lin Yue just stood there, staring at her hands. "Holy... was that me?"
Lady Wei fell to her knees. "The demon has awakened! The demon has—ACK! MY HAIR!"
Her elaborate wig caught fire. She ran in circles, screaming. Lin Yue might've felt bad—if it wasn't also the funniest thing she'd seen since her professor accidentally Zoomed from the toilet.
The guards tried to attack. The flames blocked them.
The wind howled.
The cat screamed.
And Lin Yue, somehow, accidentally floating an inch off the ground, declared with a straight face:
"I AM THE CHOSEN ONE. AND I DEMAND A SNACK."
---
Moments later, Lin Yue sprinted through the palace corridors with a half-burnt curtain draped over her like a cape. Behind her: chaos. In front of her: more chaos.
As she ducked into a hallway lined with stone statues of stern-faced scholars, a sword fell from a display and landed directly in her hands.
"Ow! Damn it—"
The sword spoke.
"Mind your grip, mortal. I've been untouched for three centuries and this is how you introduce yourself?"
Lin Yue stared. "Great. I have a talking sword. And it sounds like my judgmental ex-roommate."
"I AM FENGMING, BLADE OF CELESTIAL VENGEANCE!"
"...Sure you are. I'm Lin Yue, Reincarnated Ramen Addict. Pleasure to meet you."
The sword hummed. "You wield great magic. I sensed it when you summoned fire noodles."
"You mean the torch thing? That was an accident!"
"And yet the fire obeyed. You are cursed."
"Oh good. Add that to the resume."
She turned a corner—and slammed into a wall of muscle.
A man.
Tall. Brooding. With cheekbones sharp enough to file paper. His robes fluttered dramatically despite the lack of wind.
He blinked down at her. "...Demoness."
Lin Yue blinked up. "...Zuko, is that you?"
He frowned. "I am General Yan Zhihao. Surrender."
"Cool cheekbones. Do they come with emotional trauma?"
He pointed his spear at her throat. "You've caused enough damage for one morning."
"Define damage. If you mean emotionally, I was already broken before the cat."
Yan Zhihao blinked. For a moment, something flickered behind his eyes. Amusement?
She saw her chance. She dropped the sword, pretended to faint, and moaned, "Oh no, my lady parts!"
The general actually caught her.
"By the heavens... she's unstable."
"Emotionally or magically?"
"Both."