The suffocating chill receded like a fading tide, yet the lingering pain still pulsed through every bone and sinew of her body.
Bai Chenxi's eyes snapped open. She gasped violently, her chest rising and falling as if she had just crawled back from the abyss of hell.
But what she saw was neither the blazing flames of the underworld, nor the sterile white of a hospital ward. Instead, it was a strange, chaotic room. Crumpled scripts lay scattered across the floor, alongside greasy takeout boxes and half-empty water bottles. The air reeked faintly of dust—mixed with a curious trace of… milk?
Where am I?
She shouldn't even be alive. She had died—clearly, irrevocably.At that so-called "celebration banquet" prepared just for her, she had drunk the wine handed over by her "best friend" Zhao Qian. Moments later, under the eyes of countless people, she had "accidentally" fallen from the hotel balcony.
Her reputation destroyed, her body shattered—her life had ended in humiliation.
And in that final moment before death, she had finally seen it all: the cold, deceitful face behind Lu Ziming's handsome facade, and the venom hidden within Zhao Qian's sweet smile.
Hatred as deep as poison ivy coiled around her heart, sharp and suffocating.
She instinctively pressed a hand to her chest—then froze.
These hands… were slim, pale, and delicate, smooth with youthful vitality. Not the roughened, calloused hands of an actress beaten down by years of running bit parts.
Her breath caught. Heart pounding, she staggered into the bathroom.
The mirror reflected back a face that made her blood run cold.Young. Fragile. Devastatingly beautiful. She looked barely twenty, with sculpted brows and eyes that once dazzled the industry, though now dulled by exhaustion and neglect.
It was her. But not the woman who had died in disgrace.No—this was her, five years ago. Back when her career had hit rock bottom, half-forgotten by the company.
Bai Chenxi's lips trembled. Her throat worked, but no sound came out.
She… had been reborn.
A soft whimper suddenly cut through her daze.
She spun around sharply, every nerve on edge. Following the sound, she pulled aside a curtain in the corner of the room.
Behind it stood a tiny crib.
Inside sat a little boy, no more than two or three years old. Rubbing his sleepy eyes, he looked like he'd just woken from a nightmare. His small lips quivered, and tears welled rapidly in his round, obsidian eyes. Frightened, uncertain, he gazed at her and whispered in a trembling, milky voice:
"Mommy…"
Boom.
The word crashed through her like a thunderclap. Bai Chenxi's body went rigid, her blood freezing in her veins.
Mommy?
When… when had she ever had a child this old?!
The tidal wave of information threatened to drown her:Her death in the past life. The betrayal. The unfamiliar surroundings. And now—this child.
The little boy shrank under her stunned silence, his tiny shoulders trembling. Crystal-like tears rolled down his cheeks one by one. He didn't dare wail aloud, only sobbed quietly, fragile and pitiful.
Her heart clenched painfully.
Her steps faltered, but she forced herself forward. With trembling hands, she bent down and gently gathered him into her arms.
The small body stiffened at first—then melted against her chest, clinging tightly like a lost kitten.
Bai Chenxi's throat tightened. Her voice was hoarse, but steady as steel:
"Don't be afraid… Mommy's here."
The words felt strange on her tongue, yet undeniable. In that instant, she accepted it. No matter how unbelievable it was, no matter what fate had twisted into being—this child was hers. And she would protect him.
But as she held the boy, her eyes hardened.
Zhao Qian. Lu Ziming.
You destroyed me once. In this life, I will repay every debt—with interest.
And as for this child… who was his father?
Just as she steadied her breathing, determined to face reality head-on, the shabby phone on the nightstand suddenly rang, its shrill tone slicing through the silence.
On the flickering screen, a single name appeared—
Zhao Qian.