Jiang Yueyao had two bone structures.
Her other personality was sweet and gentle, like an unripe cherry, crushed in one bite by Ze Qing. She took a blade for him, only to burst into a blood-red bloom on the experimental table of Dr. Zhou, her father’s trusted aide.
Jiang Yueyao died, and Jiang Yueyao awoke.
The Supreme God offered her an olive branch: transmigrate into crumbling novels and mend their cracks, and she could redeem a life.
She smiled and snapped the olive branch into a dagger.
In terrifying trials, she wielded her madwoman’s bones like a blade and slaughtered demons and monsters for the cannon-fodder villainesses. The celebratory fireworks had barely faded after each victory when someone would call her “Yueyao” from the ashes.
She turned around. The person’s features were as familiar as old snow. His name was Yun Feng: the ultimate villain in the script, yet he took every heavenly punishment meant for her.
With each restart, Yun Feng remembered her early, only to have the System erase those memories at the story’s end.
Their memories were like an hourglass, endlessly turned over, until they shattered as the last grain fell.
She awakened first and entered the Supreme God’s palace, holding her dagger to the throat of its rules.
“Give me back my person, bones and soul, every last part.”
The seal shattered, and memories surged back like a tide.
Yun Feng looked up. In his eyes, across a thousand mountains and rivers, at last appeared her true name.
Together, they tore the script apart and rewrote the “storyline” as “the rest of their lives.”
Later, flowers bloomed in another world, and the old snow began to melt.
Jiang Yueyao nestled in Yun Feng’s arms, bit into a ripe cherry, and smiled, both wild and sweet. “This time, let’s elope beyond the story.”
