He Fell First

My name is Shen Tang, and I transmigrated into a book.

I ended up in a tragic romance as the wicked female supporting character who killed the male lead.

The System said I had three days to make him forgive me, or I’d be erased.

But there was one problem: the male lead had been reborn.

He remembered the fire I’d started. He remembered how he died.

On the first day, he grabbed me by the throat and asked, “Do you remember?”

I said, “No, but could you buy me hot pot first?”

He froze. Then he took me out for hot pot.

On the second day, someone tried to kill him. I didn’t know why, but I turned and threw myself in front of him.

As the knife plunged into my back, I heard him roar, “Shen Tang!”

So he could be afraid, after all.

On the third day, the mission failed.

I couldn’t make him forgive me, because he said

“I stopped hating you a long time ago. I’m just scared. Scared you’re not real, scared you’ll leave, scared that if I fall for you, you’ll disappear.”

I cried.

He cried too.

Two people who were supposed to die held each other and sobbed like idiots.

Only later did I learn that his “three days” and my “three days” had never meant the same thing.

He had never wanted forgiveness.

What he wanted was me.