Chapter 1: A Silk-Draped Rebirth

Warm sunlight spilled into the room like honey, pooling on a ceiling painted with curling floral vines. The beams — carved from dark, polished wood — were inlaid with fine lacquer that caught the light in subtle gleams. Dust motes drifted lazily in the golden air.

The first thing Jia Lan noticed was the smell.

It wasn't the sharp tang of instant noodles or the faint mildew of her cramped apartment. This was… layered. Jasmine, soft and sweet, underpinned by sandalwood and something sharper — perhaps camphorwood polished into the furniture. It was the smell of wealth, the kind you couldn't fake.

Her lashes fluttered.

The mattress beneath her was springy yet yielding, the sheets cool as water. She shifted slightly and a whisper of silk slid against her skin.

Her eyes flew open.

The nightwear clinging to her body was pale lilac, trimmed in tiny scalloped lace, the fabric so smooth it seemed to float over her limbs. The duvet was satin, heavy with fine stitching.

She sat up, blinking at her surroundings.

The bedroom was enormous, a space that breathed luxury in every corner. The morning sun lit the high windows, spilling across polished rosewood furniture until it glowed. A hand-painted folding screen stood like a piece of art in the corner, blocking part of a velvet chaise. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined one wall, their contents neatly arranged: hardbound books in gilded spines, glossy magazines from abroad, and even a few fashion catalogues with elegant women in 70s Parisian styles.

Her gaze caught on the dressing table — a rosewood masterpiece, its surface holding an array of delicate glass bottles, each adorned with foreign letters: Dior. Guerlain. Chanel. The pastel liquids inside caught the sunlight like liquid jewels.

Her lips parted in disbelief. "Imported skincare? In the 70s?"

And then it hit her — not a soft realization, but like a truck running straight over her chest.

She remembered.

She had been in her own tiny apartment, crouched over a wobbly table, eating store-bought instant noodles straight from the pot. Payday was still a week away. She had been tired, so tired — her body running on caffeine and stubbornness. Then a sudden dizziness, a choking gasp, the hot broth sloshing against her hand… and blackness.

She had died.

Her stomach dropped. She should have been in a morgue, or simply… nowhere. But instead, she was here — in a room that looked like it belonged to the wife of a foreign ambassador.

No, not just any room.

This is… the 70s.

And not just any 70s — she knew this setting. It was from a rebirth novel she had read in her past life. The heroine: a poor rural girl, armed with nothing but her wits and relentless hard work, who rose step by step until she had everything — education, career, and love. The male lead: equally poor, equally ambitious, the perfect partner in her struggles.

And then there was the villainess.

Jia Lan.

A pampered urban heiress, born into a powerful, well-connected family. A girl whose greatest daily struggle was deciding which imported face cream to use. Loved by her parents, grandparents, and brothers — protected to the point of arrogance. Spoiled, beautiful, and utterly unprepared for the incoming storm that was the hardworking heroine.

Jia Lan's eyes widened.

"…I've transmigrated into the villainess?"

Before she could even process the absurdity, something shimmered into view — a translucent blue panel hovering in mid-air.

Ding!

Welcome to the Daily Check-In System!

First daily checkin

Location:Elite Courtyard Residence

Rewards:

✨ Skin Like Porcelain – Graceful Glow (Permanent)

💴 1000 Yuan

Her jaw dropped.

"A system?!" She rubbed her eyes, but the glowing text remained.

She reached up to touch her cheek, and her breath caught. Her skin was so smooth it felt like porcelain warmed by sunlight, supple under her fingertips. Even the faint unevenness she'd always seen in her past life had vanished.

And the money — 1000 yuan in this era wasn't pocket change. It was the kind of amount that could pay for months of living expenses, even for a small family.

She let out a shaky laugh. "Beautiful, rich, and with a system… I've read about these in novels, but I never thought…" Her lips curved in an incredulous smile. "Thank god I'm not the heroine. Hard work? No thanks. I fully intend to be spoiled, lazy, and gorgeous."

"Lan Lan! Wake up! It's time for breakfast!"

The call came from outside — clear, warm, and distinctly feminine. Her… mother's voice?

She startled, then responded instinctively, "Coming!"

Her bare feet sank into a thick Persian rug as she rose. The soft fibers tickled her toes while she padded toward the bathroom.

Inside, the porcelain sink gleamed like it had just been scrubbed, and the mirror above it framed a face that could start revolutions. Large, bright eyes framed by naturally long lashes, a delicate nose, and lips tinted a soft natural rose. Her black hair, loose and glossy, cascaded like a silk waterfall down her back.

She began brushing her teeth, but halfway through, it hit her — a sudden flood of memories, not hers, but the original Jia Lan's.

Grandparents who would slip her sweets behind her parents' backs. Parents who shielded her from even the smallest trouble. Brothers who would glare at anyone who dared to speak to her too harshly. A home wrapped in warmth, luxury, and unshakable loyalty.

Her grip on the toothbrush faltered. She set it down, staring at her reflection with a lump in her throat.

In her past life, she had been an orphan. No mother's voice calling her to breakfast. No father's proud smile. No doting grandparents. She had scraped by alone, surviving on instant noodles and occasional kindness from strangers.

And now…

She pressed her palms together, closing her eyes.

May the original Jia Lan be reborn into a family who loves her as much as this one. I'll protect them for both of us.

When she opened her eyes, the corners of her lips lifted into a determined, almost playful smile.

"Alright," she murmured to herself. "New life, new rules. Let's live it beautifully."

With a final glance at her silk nightwear and the gleaming room behind her, Jia Lan stepped into the corridor — toward breakfast, and toward her new life.