The alley behind the school was narrow, cluttered with rusted trash cans and old brick walls darkened by time. It sat in a blind spot between two abandoned shops—far from classrooms, farther still from surveillance cameras. Students rarely passed through unless they were looking for trouble.
Which made it perfect.
She leaned against the wall and slowly slid down until she was sitting on the cold concrete. Only then did she let herself breathe properly.
Pain flared everywhere at once—shoulder, ribs, stomach, cheek. Not life-threatening, but ugly. Very ugly.
“Support role,” she muttered. “Bullied.”
How fitting.
She reached into her bag. The original owner of this body had at least been cautious—basic medicine, bandages, pain relief patches. Nothing fancy, but enough.
She cleaned the cuts first. Her hands were steady, movements practiced. Pain registered, but it didn’t control her. She’d learned long ago that panicking wasted energy better spent enduring.
By the time she finished, the worst of the swelling was treated and the bruises were carefully concealed beneath loose clothing and strategic wrapping.
Only then did she leave the alley.
The Liu family manor was quiet when she returned.
Too quiet.
Only a few servants moved through the halls, heads lowered, footsteps light. No raised voices. No forced laughter. No performative family warmth.
She stopped one of them.
“Prepare dinner,” she said calmly. “I’ll eat in an hour.”
The servant nodded at once. No questions.
Good.
She went straight to her room.
Steam soon filled the bathroom as she lowered herself into the bathtub. Warm water closed over her skin, easing the tight ache in her muscles. She leaned back, eyes half-closed, letting the pain fade into something manageable.
Her thoughts, however, sharpened.
Liu Mengmeng wasn’t home.
Neither were their father or Yun Wantang.
She already knew why.
Today was the Liu Group’s regional charity banquet—an annual event full of donors, cameras, and carefully curated reputations. Yun Wantang loved occasions like this. Loved being seen as the elegant, benevolent madam of the Liu family.
And Liu Mengmeng?
She was “bonding with friends” afterward. Translation: partying, showing off, basking in attention like she always did.
No one had asked where she was.
She snorted softly.
“System,” she said. “Use one Golden Finger Draw"
A pause.
Golden Finger Draw ×1 — Activated
The light condensed into a wheel, spun once—and shattered.
Golden Finger Acquired: The Culinarist’s Eye
She blinked.
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“…Huh?”
A line of text appeared beneath it.
Effect: Automatically identifies objects classified as food or seasoning. Provides precise measurements and optimal processing methods for perfect dishes.
Silence.
She stared at it.
Then she laughed.
Not loudly. Just a short, incredulous sound that echoed softly off the tiled walls.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Perfect dishes.
“A golden finger,” she said calmly, “that helps me cook.”
In a reborn revenge novel.
With no resources. No backing. No protection. And no combat skills.
She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.
“…Miss Brooks,” she said gently, sweetly, “are you trying to tell me something?”
The system did not respond.
She imagined the deputy director’s calm smile and felt the urge to fling administrative paperwork at someone’s face.
“A golden finger,” she muttered, “that’s like a chicken rib. Useless—but you’d feel wrong throwing it away.”
She opened her eyes again.
“…Fine. I’ll remember this.”
Somewhere, she was fairly certain, Miss Brooks deserved to be scolded.
As for the remaining draw—she would save it for later. Right now, luck didn’t seem to be on her side.
After the bath, she dried herself, reapplied medicine carefully, and changed into clean clothes. Dinner was already waiting by the time she stepped out—simple, warm, filling.
She ate slowly, methodically, mind already working several steps ahead.
By the time she returned to her room, the pain had dulled to a background ache.
She sat at the desk and finally allowed herself to think properly.
Three months.
That was how long she had before the college entrance exams.
Academics weren’t a problem. Both she—and Liu Zhuqing—had been top students. Getting into the top ten would be easy.
Top three, however?
That would require intent.
She smiled faintly.
Intent, she had.
Next: money.
She would open a bank account tomorrow. One entirely unrelated to the Liu family. A private account her father couldn’t freeze on a whim if things turned ugly.
Because she was not na?ve enough to believe this household would remain peaceful once she started moving.
Leaving the Liu family was a possibility. One she needed to be prepared for.
Which meant money came first.
Then revenge. Order mattered. Step by step.
First Yun Wantang.
Then her father.
Lastly—
Liu Mengmeng.
Her fingers tapped lightly against the desk.
Opportunity would come soon.
She remembered it clearly.
In the near future, a man would collapse on the street—an old man with a heart condition. In her previous life, someone else had helped him.
She knew this because Jason Smith had once mentioned it—drunk and bitter—in her previous life. He’d talked about it casually, never realizing how much that single moment had altered someone's fate.
This time, she thought calmly, I’ll be there first.
The old man had wealth. Connections. Influence. The kind that couldn’t be bought with money alone.
With his backing, her business would be smoother. Faster. Safer.
And Yunyun—
Her chest tightened briefly . Yunyun had been the only friend the original owner of this body had and the one who ever pulled her up instead of stepping on her. Yunyun could be sent abroad. Early. Far from this mess. As long as she had enough money, she could change her fate entirely.
As for stealing Jason Smith’s opportunity? She was unmoved.
Poor daoist is better than dead daoist. Especially when the dead one never gets a second chance.
Especially since Liu Mengmeng—reborn and arrogant—would definitely target him again. Which meant time was limited—but still enough.
A month later, the parents would announce an engagement.
In her last life, Liu Mengmeng had stolen the Shaw family engagement. But this engagement had never belonged to Liu Mengmeng in the first place.
It was owed to her mother. A favor the Shaw family had promised long ago—one they had honored out of respect and debt. Yun Wantang had always hated that. A connection she couldn’t erase.
Last time—
If Zhuqing choosing Jason (although forced) would mean something very specific.
It would mean she was voluntarily forfeiting the Shaw family.
Exactly what Yun Wantang wanted.
She’d never learned much about her mother or her mother’s relics because of it.
This time—
This time Liu Mengmeng would choose Jason Smith.
Which meant she would be free to approach the Shaw family herself.
And who knew?
She had read enough novels to recognize patterns.
Hidden quests existed. Perfect completions brought better rewards.
She straightened slightly, excitement stirring beneath her calm.
If there’s a hidden mission tied to my mother…
Then she would complete it flawlessly.
The stock market would shift soon, too. Small fluctuations at first. Enough to seed capital if used correctly. After the exams, after college—
She would build something of her own.
As for Yun Wantang?
Reputation was her weakness.
Face meant everything.
And Liu Mengmeng?
If she was determined to choose Jason Smith, then—
Well.
She smiled slowly.
She could always make some money by not competing.
A quiet promise here. A veiled threat there.
If Zhuqing offered to step aside “kindly,” Yun Wantang would pay—because that cleared the path to the Shaw family for her daughter. As clearing the path for her daughter was worth any price.
If she hinted she might choose Jason, Liu Mengmeng would panic. If she offered to step aside voluntarily?They’d pay.
Either way—
She would profit.
Money. Leverage. Information.
And access to the Shaw family.
She leaned back in her chair, eyes clear, mind cold.
“This World,” she murmured, “I’ll finish everything perfectly.”
Outside her room, the Liu manor slept peacefully.
No one noticed the girl inside quietly sharpening her plans.
Zhuqing Bones smiled faintly—and finally fell asleep.
Tomorrow, she would start moving.