Yun Jichu casually tossed the resignation agreement aside and let out a long sigh of relief.
Before she could fully exhale, a notification popped up on her phone, and a sharp male voice blared out.
“What I said this morning still stands, Yun Jichu. Think it over carefully. I’m already the Chief Artist now, and that’s not changing.”
“It was always a matter of skill and merit. Do you really need to make such a huge fuss?”
Yun Jichu took a deep breath, switched out of the chat app, pulled up her email, fished the long-saved draft from her drafts folder, and hit send.
The room fell quiet once more. Yesterday, she had been burning the midnight oil to meet deadlines; today, she sat emptily at home.
Life had reverted to the quiet, leisurely rhythm of five years ago, and it felt strangely disorienting.
She pushed the thoughts from her mind, restrained the impulse to grab her drawing pen, scooped up her tablet instead, and flopped onto the bed.
A red icon blinked insistently in the corner. This game she hadn’t touched in ages suddenly prompted her.
-Update available?
Yun Jichu hesitated a moment before tapping to update.
The game was called 《Qingyu Case》, renowned for its exquisite artwork and refined aesthetics back in the day—though that fame had peaked years ago.
Likely because she hadn’t played in so long, the update dragged on forever, taking a good ten minutes or more.
Pleasant music chimed as a flurry of notification sounds followed.
-Map sync complete!
-Progress sync complete!
-Welcome back! Claim your Returning Gift Pack!
An upgraded map? And what was this progress sync? Fortunately, the interface was unchanged, and even the money she’d shelled out and the items she’d grinded for were all still there.
A whopping 350 taels of silver!
Nice. Yun Jichu tapped the start button.
Please select:
-Continue playing
-Start new game
She chose continue playing. A single save file glowed there, timestamped to the summer five years ago.
Back then, as a college freshman, her days revolved around classes, sketching, and holing up in the dormitory lost in the game—skipping meals, entranced to the point of delirium. Time had flown by unnoticed…
That breathtaking character art suddenly filled her mind: eyes shimmering with dark gold, profoundly noble bone structure, a tall and commanding figure etched in sharp lines, exuding a gentle, scholarly air. She had named him Helian Jin.
Another chime snapped her out of it.
-Returning Gift Pack claimed! Please check.
Bold golden letters proclaimed it, with a tiny line below listing the contents.
Yun Jichu leaned in for a closer look. This… the Returning Gift Pack was pretty miserly— a measly twenty points.
Points in 《Qingyu Case》 could upgrade character stats.
She had pulled plenty of all-nighters back in the day just to farm points for her favorites.
Twenty wasn’t much, but better than nothing. Yun Jichu glanced at the upgrade options.
-Build
-Appearance
~~~
She didn’t bother reading the rest, squeezing her eyes shut and madly tapping the first two.
Intangible or not, these stats absolutely could not be neglected!
Helian Jin was already her digital dream guy; piling on more perfection would make him divine.
If only she could lay eyes on him for real…
Just like those dreams from her college days, when she’d gotten too immersed… Yun Jichu pressed the back of her hand to her faintly flushed cheek. She was just about to load the save when her phone erupted in a barrage of notifications.
“Yun Jichu, you really think you’re hot stuff now? Sending the chat logs to the whole company’s email list!”
“Even without that mess, the Chief Artist job was never yours anyway!”
“I chased you because I saw potential in you. Once I snag Chief Artist, I’d cut you in on all the perks right away. Why blow it up like this?”
“So what if you can draw? Chief Artist takes more than raw talent! You’re awkward and slow on the uptake—how do you expect to climb the ladder? Think resigning hides you from me?”
Ding-dong.
The company group chat she hadn’t left yet pinged with an announcement: Notice of Yu Ming’s removal from Chief Artist duties.
Yun Jichu laughed.
Rage on. An enemy’s fury was the ultimate pick-me-up.
She blocked the still-spewing Yu Ming, quit the company group chat, then hummed cheerfully as she opened the game save.
Jade Capital City unfolded in breathtaking splendor, its winding streets forming a vast grid. The Azure Cloud River snaked through the mighty walls like a silken jade belt, past red-tiled roofs, green eaves, carved beams, and painted rafters—a vista too beautiful to take in.
Several carriages rumbled slowly along a cross street. A spring breeze toyed with the gauze curtains, drawing a chorus of stifled gasps from within.
“Is that His Majesty’s Sleeping Palace?”
“Look! There’s a paper kite!”
At once, the Blue-Robed Female Official escorting the carriages outside flicked a subtle glance their way. Her pace remained measured and even, the brocade flower beside her gauze hat utterly motionless.
The carriage fell instantly silent, the selection candidates scared utterly speechless.
Yun Jichu stirred awake as a light veil of gauze brushed across her face.
Sunlight spilled into the carriage like fractured lake water, stinging her eyes until tears welled at the corners.
The sun was out…
Had she pulled another all-nighter gaming? When had she even fallen asleep?
She shielded her eyes with her hand, squeezed them shut hard, then blinked them open again. Overlapping shadows danced heavily across her vision. A graceful woman in a dark green silk gown, adorned with a pair of hairpins, sat with her head bowed over the handkerchief in her hands.
Yun Jichu closed her eyes once more.
She must still be groggy from sleep. Even after half a month in this world, she hadn’t fully adjusted.
~~~
Half a month earlier, Yun Jichu had transmigrated into the game Qingyu Case.
The woman seated across from her was another selection candidate from a similar background, named Li Wenzhu.
That night, Yun Jichu had launched the game and tried to load her save file. Perhaps too much time had passed, because much of the data failed to load. A few clicks later, it had inexplicably reset her identity, forcing her to start over as a lowly selection candidate.
What a waste of the favorability she’d grinded out over five years of sleepless nights, not to mention the pregnancy she’d achieved by hoarding heavenly materials and earthly treasures. Now it looked like she’d have to begin from scratch!
And this time, living it out firsthand inside the game.
Outside, Zichen Hall faded gradually into the distance. Branches cast dappled shadows that blocked the sun, and the carriage rocked gently onward until it reached the edge of Taiye Pool.
Li Wenzhu was slender and delicate, her willow-leaf brows perpetually furrowed as if weighed down by unspoken sorrows.
“Ah Chu, you don’t look well. Would you like some tea?”
Yun Jichu tore her gaze from the passing scenery, steadying her breathing as best she could. She patted her cheeks lightly with her fingertips, knowing full well she must appear deathly pale.
“No thank you, I’m fine.”
Li Wenzhu set aside her teacup and pursed her lips, the crease between her brows deepening. “Do you think this selection will turn out like it did three years ago?”
“Three years ago?”
“You haven’t heard? One of the selection candidates died during the draft three years back.”
Died?
Before Yun Jichu could press for details, Li Wenzhu leaned in close and whispered on. “They say she bore an uncanny resemblance to the Late Empress. His Majesty flew into a rage and drew his sword to strike her down right there on the spot.”
Yun Jichu stared in stunned silence. She had grown up in a society ruled by law, where even brandishing a knife was a grave offense—let alone taking a life over mere resemblance?
This was the ancient world, a realm of absolute imperial power. She repeated the thought to herself dozens of times.
Who could have imagined that the gentle, jade-warm Helian Jin from five years ago had devolved into a tyrant?
The Helian Jin she had so painstakingly cultivated back then had probably been devoured by that garbage System long ago. After all, he had only ever been a string of data.
For the first time in half a month, Yun Jichu felt a wave of uncertainty about the life stretching out before her.
Would she meet her end in this strange world too?
Before her thoughts could spiral further, Li Wenzhu dissolved into quiet sobs. “I don’t know if I’ll ever make it back home…”
Yun Jichu’s heart twisted with complicated emotions. She glanced around the small side table and realized there would be no tissues here. Rifling hastily through her sleeves, she produced a handkerchief and offered it to Li Wenzhu.
“Don’t cry. If Lady Shuxiu catches you, that’ll be another black mark against your name.”
The words offered no comfort, but they served as an effective warning.
Li Wenzhu stifled her tears at once and pulled out a small mirror to dab carefully at her cheeks.
The carriage rolled to a stop at Qinghui Pavilion. The blue-robed female official spoke in a grave tone. “Please disembark.”
Relief flooded through her at last. Yun Jichu was the first to leap from the carriage.
Qinghui Pavilion stood beside Taiye Pool; from its heights, one could drink in the full splendor of the pool’s springtime beauty.
Confined to Chengxiang Hall these past days—endless hours of reading, writing, embroidery, and etiquette lessons—the selection candidates had grown thoroughly stifled. Now, with a chance to climb high and gaze into the distance, delight lit every face.
Excitement notwithstanding, they remembered their training. A quick glance at the blue-robed female official’s stern expression was enough to still them all. They stood gracefully beneath the trees, poised and demure.
Yun Jichu shrank into the background as much as possible, positioning herself at the very edge of the group.
This blue-robed female official was Lady Shangyi, whose given name was Shuxiu. Everyone addressed her as Lady Shuxiu.
Lady Shuxiu tolerated no nonsense. Over the past half month, she had meticulously recorded the candidates’ lapses in etiquette, needlework, and deportment, all to be presented to the Empress Dowager after the upcoming grand selection in a fortnight.
“In forty days, the Late Empress’s death anniversary will arrive. Diviners from the inner court have been coming and going; none of you are to wander freely.” Lady Shuxiu’s voice rang steady and severe. “Curb your distractions. If any of you provoke His Majesty during this period, even I won’t be able to save your lives.”
Lady Shuxiu’s piercing gaze swept across the group and settled briefly on Yun Jichu, lingering on her lovely features before moving on.
Yun Jichu remained oblivious, her eyes fixed on the lotus-patterned bricks beneath her feet. The petals bloomed in graceful arcs, their curves a marvel of artistry. Such exquisite craftsmanship was a rarity even in her own time.
A sudden gust swept in from Taiye Pool, whipping the nearby willow branches into a frenzy. A tiger-patterned kite came hurtling down, landing squarely on Yun Jichu’s head and dislodging the beaded butterfly hairpin from her bun.
The tiger-patterned kite and the butterfly hairpin tumbled to the ground together.
Yun Jichu let out a soft “ouch” as she clutched her head and bent down at the waist. Just then, the voices of two young children drifted closer from afar.
“Ah Nian! I found it! Our kite is right here!”
“Slow down! Watch out or you’ll fall, Ah Huan. Slow down!”
[T/N: Nian (念) means to miss or yearn for someone.
Huan (环) means jade pendant/ring]
Before Yun Jichu could reach for it, a small hand in pink and white scooped up the kite. Moments later, the patter of footsteps came to a halt right behind that little hand.
Yun Jichu couldn’t help but trace her gaze upward along the child’s arm.
The girl wore a light cloud-hued brocade skirt. Two neat buns sat atop her head, with dark green ribbons fluttering in the breeze. She was as cute as a carved jade doll, no more than five or six years old, and her wide eyes were fixed on Yun Jichu.
A strange sense of familiarity washed over Yun Jichu, freezing her in place.
The boy standing behind the little girl was stunned too. Though he was just as small, only five or six years old, he stood ramrod straight, his gaze deep and solemn as he sized up Yun Jichu.
Lady Shuxiu hurried forward in great strides and dropped to her knees with a thud. Her voice had lost much of its usual composure. “Forgive us, Crown Prince! Forgive us, Princess!”
She shot Yun Jichu a furious glare and snapped, “On your knees! What kind of behavior is this?”
Yun Jichu snapped back to her senses. One by one, the selection candidates beside her knelt as well, leaving her utterly at a loss.
She fought the urge to frown. Her knees hurt too much—this lotus embroidery was beautiful, sure, but it made kneeling a nightmare.
The princess tossed aside the kite in her hand. Her eyes suddenly welled up red, and she flung herself into Yun Jichu’s arms. “Mother!”
Sobbing, she turned to the crown prince. “Brother, look! It’s Mother! Just like in the portrait…”
From the distance came the shrill cry of an eunuch. “The Imperial Procession arrives!”
Yun Jichu’s breath hitched. Panic surged through her. The soft, fragrant bundle in her arms turned terrifying in an instant. Lady Shuxiu had just warned her to avoid any bad luck during this time, and now this had to happen.
It looked like she was done for.