The moment cold water flooded her nasal passages, Ruan Qingyun jolted awake. Coughing violently, she scrambled out of the bathtub, knocking over a white pill bottle beside her. Tablets were scattered across the tiled floor. The words "Diazepam" on the bottle glared under the warm glow of the bathroom lights.
"Where... is this?"
Trembling, she stood up, her soaked silk nightgown clinging to her skin. The girl in the mirror was pale but breathtakingly beautiful—it was the same face she saw daily in the cracked mirror of the convenience store changing room, yet not. Her skin was luminous like polished jade, her lashes naturally curled, and even her lips had a healthy pink flush.
Qingyun pinched her own cheek. It hurt. This wasn't a dream.
A phone ringtone suddenly blared. Stumbling into the bedroom, she saw the phone on the nightstand display: [May 15, 2025, 19:15].
"2025?" Her legs went weak. Her last memory was from a winter night in 2023, a tearing chest pain in front of the convenience store's ice cream freezer.
The lock screen wallpaper was a selfie of the girl in the mirror, a Douyin ID watermark "Yaoguang" glaring from the bottom right corner. A live stream notification flashed: [Your scheduled 20:00 stream is about to begin].
Qingyun picked up the pill bottle from the edge of the tub. Less than half the tablets remained. She wasn't a doctor, but she knew the consequences of an overdose of sleeping pills. This girl named Yaoguang had clearly made a choice.
"Then what am I now?" She stared at the unfamiliar reflection, her fingers unconsciously tracing the rim of the bottle.
Hesitantly, Qingyun opened the Douyin account. 21,000 followers. Not a lot, but not insignificant either. The latest video was posted a week ago—the girl dancing to the recently viral "Star Shake." Thinking for a moment, Ruan Qingyun tidied up simply in the bathroom, dried her hair, and opened the wardrobe. It was filled with a dazzling array of JK uniforms, designer clothes, Lolita dresses, and countless beautiful skirts. Finally, she chose a simple, tailored, waist-cinching POLO dress.
19:30. The phone vibrated with another reminder.
"If this is someone else's body... someone else's life..." she murmured. But for now, the live stream seemed like the only window into this unfamiliar world.
20:00. Qingyun stared at the "Start Stream" button, her finger hovering in the air. She took a deep breath and pressed it.
"Hello, everyone..." The girl on camera was bare-faced, her voice soft as a feather. Dozens of viewers trickled into the stream quickly.
[Guangguang, you don't look well today] [Starting with a song?] [Why did you end so abruptly yesterday?]
Qingyun's fingers hovered over the screen. She had worked as a live stream seller before and knew the basics, but she knew nothing about this "Yaoguang's" streaming style.
"Just want to chat with everyone today," she chose the safest interaction method, her voice sounding much clearer than she expected. "Any good movie recommendations lately?"
Comments began to scroll; a few small gift effects flashed across the screen. The viewer count slowly climbed to around three hundred, occasionally peaking at five hundred. Suddenly, the comments were covered by a special effect: [User 18233688 gifted Caravan ×1!]
"Thank you for the gift," Qingyun said briefly. She often watched PK streams before, but wasn't sure if she should flatter the giver with phrases like "The model for men, the dream for women." She decided to immediately shift attention back to the interaction. "So, any good movie recommendations lately?"
Qingyun mechanically recited her thanks, her eyes constantly darting to the viewer count—600. This was considered niche on Douyin, but it offered her a sliver of solace.
After about an hour, wanting to search her surroundings for clues, Qingyun ended the stream early, citing feeling unwell. After turning off the camera, she let out a long sigh, only then realizing her back was soaked with sweat.
Switching off the fill light and softbox, Qingyun turned on the fluorescent light. The bedroom suddenly brightened. Only then did she notice the city outside was already ablaze with lights, neon spilling in through the floor-to-ceiling window. She curled up by the window, looking at the familiar yet unfamiliar reflection in the glass.
This apartment was on a high floor, the view dizzyingly expansive. The traffic on the street below resembled a flowing river of light. In the distance, an LED screen on a skyscraper advertised a new smartphone. Everything was familiar yet alien—this was the city she had lived in, but it was two years into its future.
Qingyun opened the refrigerator. It was stocked with organic produce and imported fruits. She took out a box of blueberries; the price on the label made her fingers tremble—88 yuan for this small box. Back at the convenience store, she would secretly take home nearly-expired fruits.
Her phone vibrated. A WeChat message popped up:
[Xiao Yu: Stream was a bit short today. Still not feeling well?]
Qingyun stared at this concern from a stranger, unsure how to reply. She tapped into the sender's Moments. The latest photo was a group picture of five girls; the one standing prominently in the center was unmistakably "herself."
"Classmates?" She zoomed in on the photo, trying to memorize each face. But an emotion not her own suddenly churned in her chest, nearly suffocating her.
Back in the bathroom, the empty pill bottle lay on top of the trash. Qingyun fished it out and shook out the last two pills. The prescription label was soaked and illegible, only fragments like "Once daily... tablet" discernible.
As if possessed, she put the pills in her mouth, but spat them out at the last second. A bitter taste spread across her tongue, like a warning.
"No matter what happened..." she whispered to the empty apartment, "...if this is a chance at rebirth given to me, I will face it... Since I am here, I will find peace."
As the first light of dawn appeared, Qingyun still lay in bed, eyes open. This was the time she should have been inventorying shelves at the convenience store. Instead, she was lying under a duvet in a strange apartment. Her body was exhausted to the extreme, but her mind was unusually clear.
She picked up Yaoguang's phone. The earliest photos in the album were from last year, already screenshots of live streams with meticulous makeup. Besides "Xiao Yu," the contacts were all work-related: "Makeup Artist AJie," "Manager Wang Ge."
"Who exactly were you..." Qingyun murmured, "...and why am I here?"
The first subway train of the day roared past below. Qingyun changed into a simple T-shirt and jeans, shoved the keys and phone into her pocket. When she used to work at the convenience store, she would take home the fruits that were about to expire for her boss.