The school bell rang, and the hallway buzzed with chatter and footsteps as students poured out of their classrooms. Song Mei packed her books calmly, eyes sharp and purposeful.
"Meimei, are you ready? The driver is waiting. Let's head home," Chu Shaojia chirped beside her.
Song Mei gave her a soft smile. "Shaojia, you go on ahead today. I have something to take care of. I'll return home on my own."
"Eh? What's going on? Are you meeting someone?" Shaojia asked curiously.
"No, nothing like that. Just some errands I need to handle alone," she replied casually, keeping her tone light.
Shaojia tilted her head. "Alright, but text me when you reach home, okay?"
"I will."
Once her friend was gone, Song Mei walked to the gates and dismissed the family driver with a cold expression. "You can leave. I'll make my own way today."
The driver hesitated. "Miss, are you sure? Mr. Song instructed—"
"Do I look unsure?" Her words cut like ice.
The man nodded hurriedly and drove away. Song Mei turned and headed toward the bustling commercial street not far from school.
It's time I take charge of my life. No more depending on people who treat me like a burden.
She wandered from store to store, facing several rejections—some subtle, some blunt. At one point, a middle-aged store manager scoffed the moment she introduced herself.
"We don't hire charity cases or troublemakers here. Try somewhere that matches your reputation," he said with a sneer before turning his back.
Song Mei's fists clenched at her sides, but she said nothing. Just like in her past life, people loved to judge without knowing the full story.
But this time, I'll make them choke on every word they ever threw at me.
But her perseverance paid off when she walked into a small, stylish boutique owned by a middle-aged woman with keen eyes.
"You're looking for work?" the woman asked, giving her a once-over.
"Yes. I can help with organizing clothes, handling the register, anything you need. I'm a quick learner."
The woman studied her calm composure and dignified tone. "You seem refined… not like a typical part-timer."
Song Mei smiled faintly. "Life teaches everyone differently."
The woman nodded. "Alright. You can start today. Four-hour shifts after school, fair pay, and no lateness. Understood?"
"Understood. Thank you."
The hours passed swiftly as Song Mei folded clothes, helped customers, and managed transactions. Her movements were graceful and efficient. The owner watched her with approval.
By the time her shift ended, night had draped the city in cool shadows. Song Mei changed back into her school uniform, thanked the owner, and stepped out onto the quiet street, her bag slung over one shoulder.
This is what independence feels like. One step closer.
But as she turned a corner on her walk back, her path was blocked by a group of five students.
Each wore the same school badge. Familiar faces—faces that once haunted her in her previous life. Her heart didn't race this time. She only narrowed her eyes.
"Well, well, if it isn't the famous villainess Song Mei," the leader sneered, cracking his knuckles. "Where's your little princess aura now, huh?"
"Must be lonely, wandering around without your precious bodyguards," another mocked.
"Should've stayed hidden behind Song Ning like you always do."
The group stepped in closer, surrounding her. One reached for her shoulder, and she swatted his hand away like a fly.
"Don't touch me," she warned coldly.
"Ohhh, the wild cat hisses," they laughed.
In my past life, I took it all. The slaps, the humiliation. But not this time.
The first punch came fast—and she caught it.
With fluid precision, Song Mei twisted the boy's wrist and kicked him in the stomach, sending him stumbling backward. Another came at her from the left, but she ducked, elbowed him in the ribs, and spun low to knock him off his feet.
"Damn! This psycho knows how to fight!"
"What the hell? I thought she was just some brat!"
One tried to tackle her from behind. She slammed him into the wall with a brutal shoulder thrust.
All those years training in karate and sanda after being exiled in her past life—this time, they came in handy.
Two of them scrambled to their feet and bolted. "Let's get outta here! She's a monster!"
"Come back here, cowards!" shouted their leader, now limping.
"I told you not to touch me. I don't like repeating myself," Song Mei said calmly, brushing dust from her skirt.
A slow clap echoed down the alleyway.
She turned sharply.
Standing near a lamppost, Hao Ran leaned against his bicycle, watching with half amusement, half intrigue.
"Well, that was... something," he said, whistling low. "Didn't expect to see the cold Song Mei turn into an action heroine."
"Spare me your commentary," she snapped, walking past him.
He straightened up. "Hey, don't be like that. I was about to jump in, you know."
She stopped and turned, her gaze hard. "Save your hero routine for Song Ning. I know what you're like, Hao Ran. You disgust me."
His smile faltered slightly.
"I'm not the weak, desperate girl you remember. Stay out of my way. I don't need saving."
She walked off, heels clicking on the pavement, leaving him stunned in her wake.
"Interesting..." he muttered.
Back at home, Song Mei peeled off her uniform and slipped into casual clothes. Her limbs ached slightly, but it was a satisfying kind of pain—the ache of control, of action.
She pulled out her diary and sketched a new outfit design. Her hand moved with more confidence than ever.
Each line whispered rebellion. Each curve screamed transformation.
Tomorrow, she'd go back to school like nothing happened. Let the whispers rise again—let them gawk. She'd show them just how terrifying a girl with nothing to lose could be.
This wasn't a second chance.
It was war.
At the Song Mansion – Later That Night
In the elegant, cold living room of the Song estate, Mrs. Song sat in her favorite velvet chair, a cup of untouched tea on the table beside her. Her gaze lingered on the fireplace—the flames low, flickering, weak. Much like her patience.
"Feng'er," she called sharply, just as her second son entered from the hallway.
Song Feng paused, noting the tightness in her tone. "Mother?"
"Feng'er," she called when Song Feng walked in.
"Have you noticed anything… strange about Song Mei recently?" she asked, folding her hands in her lap.
"You've been quiet lately. Tell me honestly… how is Song Mei doing?"
Song Feng hesitated for a moment, then sat across from his mother. "Mother… there's definitely something wrong with her."
Mrs. Song's eyes sharpened. "What do you mean?"
"She's changed. Dramatically. It's not just her appearance—it's everything. Her behavior, her attitude. The way she speaks… it's like she's no longer afraid of anyone. Not even us. She's calm—too calm. Detached. It's like she's given up trying to fit in. She speaks to me like I'm just some stranger on the street.""
"She was always a bit unstable…"
"No, it's different this time. She's… calculating. Cold. Like she doesn't care about the consequences anymore. She openly threatened Ningning at school today. And after that, there were rumors—about her beating up a group of bullies."
Mrs. Song sat upright, her heart pounding. "Bullies?"
Song Feng nodded. "Not just that. She dismissed the family driver, she's working part-time, and she's acting like… like we don't matter to her anymore."
"She doesn't care anymore. She barely looks at us. And yesterday—" he hesitated.
"Go on."
"She said I disgust her," he admitted, jaw tightening. "And honestly? I didn't even recognize the look in her eyes. It was cold… but worse than that, it was free."
Silence settled over the room like a heavy fog.
"She's planning something," he added quietly.
"She's changed, Mother. Dramatically. And if we don't pay attention soon, we're not going to be dealing with a jealous girl anymore. We'll be dealing with something far more dangerous. And i am afraid that we might not be able to stop it this time."
Mrs. Song clutched the teacup tighter, her lips thinning.
"Keep an eye on her," she said. "Don't confront her yet. But something tells me… the daughter we brought back isn't the same anymore."
Mrs, Song looked toward the grand hallway—where portraits of the Song lineage lined the walls. All smiling. All perfect.
And somewhere among them, the name "Song Mei" now hung like a thread waiting to snap.