"Hold on a minute!" Su Yanyu's voice cracked in shock.
She sat frozen before a not-so-perfect mirror—its surface warped and dusty, yet somehow she could see herself clearly.
"Where… am I?" she whispered. Her fingers trembled as they touched the long black hair falling over her shoulders. The silk felt too real. She swallowed hard. "How did I get here?"
Just a heartbeat ago, she'd been sitting in her family's political meeting back in Korea—her so-called family, the ones who only smiled when the cameras were on. She'd closed her eyes for a second, annoyed at the noise, and now—this.
"This is China," she murmured, staring around the dim, ancient room. "But not my China. This is… China-China."
The air smelled of sandalwood and age. The walls were made of dark lacquered wood, and her reflection wore a delicate white silk robe she'd never owned.
"What is this? Did our family's enemies—what, transport me here? That's too much work. They could've just killed me…"
She pushed to her feet, dizzy with disbelief, and rushed to the door. The handle felt cold. She pulled. It didn't move.
Again—harder. Still nothing.
"Come on!" she hissed. Panic began to creep up her spine. She was about to shout for help when a voice drifted in from outside the door.
"Our dear Consort Su, why bother struggling?"
The tone was mocking, sweet with poison.
"Just stay there until three days pass. The Honored Concubine Yun has ordered you to be grounded—no food, no water."
Laughter followed, soft and cruel.
Su Yanyu froze. Consort Su?
Her pulse thundered in her ears.
"This can't be happening," she whispered. "This… this is real. This is real."
She looked around frantically, searching for any crack, any window—anything that could tell her where she was. Nothing. The room was sealed tight.
Outside, she could still hear the servants, the guards, even a few eunuchs gossiping and laughing as if her suffering were entertainment.
She sank to the floor, her breath shallow.
"No, no, no… this is bad," she muttered, gripping her knees. "I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home…"
"Calm down, Gu Renxi," she muttered to herself, clutching her head. "Calm down… this must be a joke. This can't be real."
She paced the room, bare feet brushing the cold floor. "Why am I here? How did I get here?"
Her heart thudded wildly. Then, suddenly, a thought struck her. "Wait a minute… back in China—Shanghai—didn't I always talk about wanting to explore the world, to see things, to build things, to try new foods?"
She blinked, then laughed nervously. "Is this some twisted karma? Because if it is, I take it back! I've changed my mind—I want to go home! I don't want this!"
Her voice echoed in the silent chamber.
"I want my bodyguards! My bank account—my millions! My rich-man's food, my branded clothes, my jewelry!" She threw her hands in the air. "No, no, no! I refuse to accept this!"
Her breathing came out sharp and fast. She tried to piece things together, desperate for logic in a place that defied it.
"Before I came here, I didn't die. I didn't eat anything weird. I just… slept," she said slowly, trying to reason with herself. Then her eyes widened. "Wait—did someone ambush me in the meeting hall? In Korea? Who's so shameless they'd do a sneak attack like that? Cowards! Why not do it to my face?"
She stomped her foot, the thin silk around her legs rustling. "No, no, no! I want to go home! What about my little brother? What brought me here!"
Her voice cracked into a scream that echoed down the hallway.
Outside, two maids were whispering.
"Do you think Consort Su has gone mad? She's talking nonsense in there," one giggled.
"Who cares? Let her. She's just a lowly consort. Lower than low!"
Their laughter rang cruelly through the wooden door.
Su Yanyu froze mid-step. "Even here…" she whispered. "I'm a lowly consort?"
The words hit her like a slap.
"No!" she shouted, voice trembling. "No, no, no! I refuse to be lowly anywhere!"
She pounded her fists against the locked door until her palms stung, until the laughter outside faded away—leaving only her shallow breathing, her tears, and the strange hum of a world she didn't understand.
When she got tired of pounding on the door, Su Yanyu slowly slid down, her back pressed against the cold wooden surface. The laughter and gossip from outside still floated in, sharp and cruel. She hugged her knees and rested her head on them, too tired to cry anymore. The flickering candle in the corner had already burned halfway down when her eyes began to close.
She didn't even realize when sleep took her — only that it wasn't the kind of peaceful sleep she used to have on silk sheets back home.
By morning, the chill had seeped into her bones. Her neck ached, her back throbbed, and her head felt like someone had pounded on it with a stone.
"Oh God, I have a headache. A serious one," she groaned, pushing herself up slowly. "And my neck hurts so badly…"
The room was quiet now. No servants laughing, no footsteps outside. Only the faint sound of wind brushing against paper windows.
She took a shaky breath — and then it hit her.
A sharp, stabbing pain shot through her head. She gripped it tightly and screamed, collapsing to the floor. It felt like her skull was splitting open, like her mind was being filled with someone else's life — a life that didn't belong to her.
Images flashed before her eyes: a girl kneeling in a grand hall, crying; a man's cold voice calling her "Consort Su"; a hand striking her cheek; red silk torn and blood on white floors.
Then, silence.
Her body relaxed against the cold floor, her breathing uneven.
After a while, she opened her eyes, her complexion pale but calm. "So that's what happened…" she muttered, touching her chin. "But why the hell would I suddenly transmigrate here? Out of everyone in the world, why me?"
Her voice was bitter, but underneath it, there was fear — and a tiny spark of anger.