"Huo Jingran, explain your disgraceful stunt!"
"Miss Huo, is it true you sabotaged Bei Xiwen's gala?"
"Smile for the headlines, you trainwreck!"
Yueli blinked, her head pounding like she'd chugged a vat of expired energy drinks. Where was her cubicle? Her half-dead laptop? And why was everyone yelling like she'd just set a national monument on fire?
She squinted at the chaos. A glittering ballroom stretched around her—crystal chandeliers, gold-trimmed tables, and a crowd of Shanghai's elite in tailored suits and gowns that screamed I cost more than your house. Paparazzi swarmed like piranhas, their lenses trained on her. A shattered champagne flute lay at her feet, and her dress—a slinky black number with way too much cleavage—was soaked in what smelled suspiciously like prosecco.
"Okay, universe," she muttered, "if this is a prank, it's a really extra one."
A sharp voice cut through the din. "Enough! Clear the room."
The crowd parted like a bad movie montage, revealing a man who looked like he'd stepped out of a CEO fanfic. Tall, broad-shouldered, with cheekbones that could slice glass, he wore a charcoal suit that probably cost more than Yueli's entire apartment. His dark eyes locked on her, cold as a server crash at deadline.
"Teng Haoran," someone whispered, like his name was a sacred incantation. Yueli's gamer brain pinged—young master, top dog, trouble.
"Miss Huo," he said, voice low and dangerous, "care to explain why you crashed the Bei family's charity gala and threw wine at their heiress?"
Yueli's mouth opened, then shut. Huo? Crashed? Wine? Her brain lagged like a pirated game on a decade-old PC. Before she could cobble together a response, a memory not her own slammed into her—a name, a face, a life.
Huo Jingran. Adopted daughter of the Huo tech dynasty. Shanghai's favorite punching bag, plastered across tabloids as a jealous, talentless mess. And tonight, she'd—er, Jingran—had stormed this gala, screamed at Bei Xiwen (the city's darling heiress), and… yep, thrown a drink. Classic villainess move.
"Oh, no," Yueli groaned under her breath. "I'm in a freaking webnovel."
She'd read enough of them during lunch breaks to recognize the signs. Overdramatic galas? Scheming elites? A heroine doomed to fail? She'd transmigrated, and not as the plucky protagonist. No, she was Huo Jingran—the cannon fodder heiress, destined to lose everything to Xiwen's saintly glow before fading into obscurity. Or worse, jail.
"Fantastic," she muttered. "I die of overwork and get yeeted into a B-tier plot."
Teng Haoran's brow twitched, like he wasn't used to muttering trainwrecks. "Speak clearly, Miss Huo. The press is eating this up."
Yueli shoved herself upright, wobbling in heels that felt like medieval torture devices. The crowd's stares burned, but she'd faced worse—like debugging code at 3 a.m. with a client screaming. If she was stuck in this cliché-ridden world, she wasn't going down without a fight.
"Relax, Mr. CEO," she said, flashing a grin she hoped looked confident and not unhinged. "Just a little… misunderstanding. No need for the death glare."
A ripple of gasps spread through the room. Apparently, nobody sassed Teng Haoran. His eyes narrowed, and for a second, Yueli swore she saw a flicker of amusement—or maybe that was wishful thinking.
Before he could retort, a soft voice floated over, sweet as honey and twice as sticky. "Jingran, why must you always cause a scene?"
The crowd turned, and Yueli's stomach did a flip. Bei Xiwen glided forward, her white gown shimmering like she'd been Photoshopped into reality. Her delicate features—big eyes, perfect nose—screamed main character energy. The wine stain on her sleeve only made her look more tragic, a wronged angel in a cruel world.
Yueli's borrowed memories clicked into place. Xiwen, the Bei family's golden child, was Jingran's lifelong rival. Every move Jingran made—every failure, every scandal—was framed as an attack on Xiwen's perfection. And tonight's meltdown? Orchestrated to paint Jingran as the ultimate villainess.
"Clever," Yueli muttered. "Real subtle, Saintess."
Xiwen's smile didn't falter, but her eyes glinted with something sharp. "I only want peace, Jingran. If you'd apologize—"
"Apologize?" Yueli cut in, louder than intended. "For what? Bad aim with the prosecco?"
A few onlookers choked on their drinks. Teng Haoran's lips twitched again—definitely amusement this time. Xiwen's mask slipped for a split second, her smile tightening.
Yueli's gamer instincts kicked in. If this was a novel, Xiwen was the final boss, and Jingran was the tutorial mob—meant to die fast. But Yueli hadn't grinded through buggy MMOs to roll over now. Step one: don't play the script.
"Look," she said, addressing the crowd like they were her Twitch chat, "I'm not saying I'm innocent. But maybe—just maybe—someone's been rigging the game against me. Ever think about that?"
The room buzzed. Reporters scribbled furiously. Xiwen's eyes widened, all innocent shock, but Yueli caught the flicker of panic. Gotcha.
Teng Haoran stepped closer, his presence like a lag spike in her focus. "Bold words, Miss Huo. Got proof, or just a flair for drama?"
Yueli met his gaze, heart racing. "Give me time, and I'll code you a whole exposé."
His brow arched. "Code?"
Crap. Jingran wasn't a gamer geek—she was a failed startup founder with a rep for partying, not programming. Yueli waved a hand, hoping to bluff. "Figure of speech. You know, build a case."
He didn't buy it, but before he could press, a sharp clink echoed in her mind, like glass breaking inside her skull. A voice—cool, female, and distinctly not human—whispered, Host acquired. Jade Whisper system online.
Yueli froze. A system? Like, a cheat code system? Her nerd heart did a backflip, but she kept her face neutral. No way was she outing herself as a transmigrator in front of Mr. CEO and Saintess McPlotface.
The voice continued, Task: Survive the gala without arrest. Reward: Access to core functions. Penalty for failure: Memory wipe.
"Memory wipe?" she hissed under her breath. "What is this, a sci-fi horror flick?"
"Miss Huo?" Teng Haoran's voice snapped her back. He was closer now, close enough for her to catch a whiff of his cologne—sandalwood and arrogance. "You're muttering again."
"Just… strategizing," she said, flashing another grin. Her neck felt warm, and she glanced down. A jade pendant nestled against her collarbone, glowing faintly under her dress. Jingran's memories confirmed it: a family heirloom, supposedly worthless. Yeah, right.
The system's voice chimed, Tip: Charm Teng Haoran to secure an ally. He's 68% likely to intervene if you're arrested.
Yueli snorted. "Charm him? I'd have better luck flirting with a firewall."
Teng Haoran tilted his head, clearly catching her whisper. "Something amusing?"
"Nope!" she said too quickly. "Just, uh, admiring your… suit. Very… CEO-chic."
The crowd tittered. His expression didn't shift, but his eyes held hers a beat too long, like he was decoding her. Yueli's cheeks burned. Great. Now I'm blushing in a villainess body. This is fine.
Xiwen seized the moment, stepping forward with a tearful quiver. "Jingran, please. Stop embarrassing yourself. Let's talk privately—"
"Pass," Yueli said, crossing her arms. "Last time we 'talked,' I ended up trending as 'Shanghai's Trash Heiress.' Hard no."
The gasps were louder now. Xiwen's face crumpled, but Yueli wasn't buying the damsel act. The system pinged again: Warning: Bei Xiwen's favorability dropping. Hostile action imminent.
"Imminent?" Yueli muttered. "What's she gonna do, cry me to death?"
As if on cue, a security guard pushed through the crowd, his face grim. "Miss Huo, you're under suspicion for assault. Come with me."
The room erupted in whispers. Cameras flashed like a storm. Yueli's pulse spiked—this was the script, wasn't it? Jingran gets hauled off, Xiwen plays victim, game over.
Not today, she thought. She straightened, channeling every RPG protagonist she'd ever played. "Assault? Based on what? A wine stain and her Oscar-worthy tears?"
The guard hesitated. Xiwen's eyes darted to him, a silent command. Yueli's pendant pulsed hotter, and the system's voice cut in: Suggestion: Expose a contradiction. Public opinion shifting 12% in your favor.
Yueli scanned the room, her gamer brain in overdrive. Then she saw it—a waiter near Xiwen, clutching a tray, his knuckles white. Jingran's memories flickered: he'd been close when the wine "incident" went down.
"Hey, you," Yueli called, pointing. "Tray guy. You saw what happened, right?"
The waiter flinched, eyes wide. The crowd turned, and Xiwen's smile froze. Yueli pressed, voice steady. "Come on. Tell them. Did I throw that drink, or was it… someone else?"
The silence stretched, electric. The waiter stammered, "I-I… it was quick. I'm not sure—"
"Enough," Teng Haoran interrupted, his tone final. He stepped between Yueli and the guard, his shadow swallowing her. "Miss Huo stays. I'll handle this."
The guard backed off, and the crowd buzzed louder. Xiwen's face paled, her perfect mask cracking. Yueli's jaw dropped. Did he just… save me?
Teng Haoran turned, his voice low enough for only her to hear. "Don't mistake this for kindness, Miss Huo. I just hate sloppy plots."
Yueli blinked, caught between shock and a laugh. "Wow. Savage."
His lips quirked, barely a smile, before he faced the crowd. "The gala's over. Out."
As the elites grumbled and dispersed, Yueli's pendant burned against her skin. The system chimed: Task complete. Core functions unlocked. New task: Investigate Bei Xiwen's sorcery. Hint: Check the pendant's origin.
Yueli's grin faded. Sorcery? In Shanghai? She glanced at Xiwen, who was whispering to a man in a black suit, her eyes locked on Yueli like a predator. The pendant pulsed again, and a new memory—not Jingran's—flashed: a fox spirit's laugh, a jade glow, and Xiwen's voice chanting something ancient.
"Oh, crap," Yueli whispered. "This just got way weirder."