Chapter 7

The final exam of the Gaokao had finally come to an end.

The campus was buzzing with noise—some students burst out of the exam hall shouting, others embraced each other, and a few even cried at the stairwell. It was the most natural form of release—after countless sleepless nights and hours spent burning the midnight oil under the lamplight, all for this moment of letting go.

Ran Nannan walked slowly with the crowd. The sun above was bright, casting light that made everyone’s face a little warm. She touched her forehead—just a light sheen of sweat, not a fever.

How wonderful. She gently exhaled.

No more maids chasing after her with herbal medicine packs to check her pulse. No more hushed whispers saying, “Second Miss, just bear it a little longer. The Cheng family is waiting.”

Suddenly, her deskmate pulled her. “Come on! Group photo time! We’re going out for barbecue and karaoke! Let’s say goodbye to this god-awful school once and for all!”

The tug made her stumble a little, but she still smiled. The sunlight caught in her eyes, and those already beautiful eyes seemed to light up, so bright that one couldn’t help but look again.

Her deskmate paused, then leaned in and murmured, “Nannan, do you know… your smile is really, really beautiful.”

Ran Nannan froze, her nose stinging with sudden emotion. It was a strange feeling—part grievance, part relief, mostly like finally breathing after being held down for too long.

“Let’s go.” She gently took her deskmate’s hand and smiled faintly. “There’s still a long road ahead.”

By the time she got home, it was already evening.

Her mother was busy in the kitchen, ribs simmering in a pot, the house filled with a rich aroma. The TV in the living room was playing the news, showing scenes of parents waiting outside exam venues with banners wishing for “Top Scores and Success.”

Ran Nannan set down her school bag and walked to the mirror. Reflected back was a girl in school uniform, sweat-damp strands of hair clinging to her pale forehead.

She reached up to brush them aside and leaned in to study her face closely.

Her features were still the same. Those eyes that the old maid once called “bewitching enough to steal souls” still carried their natural water-like shine. But something was different.

She moved a little closer, her fingertips lightly tracing the corner of her eye.

If you looked carefully, the slight upward tilt at the outer corner almost seemed to smile. She suddenly remembered the old madam at Qinghong Pavilion in her dream, pinching her chin and sneering, “Give it two more years and you’ll be the kind of vixen men ruin their fortunes over.”

But she never had to hear that again.

She gently exhaled, fingers sliding to her lips. They were naturally tinted with a bit of red, and with a light press, they bloomed with even more color.

“I’m still here,” she whispered, so softly only she could hear it.

In that moment, a powerful determination surged within her: since the heavens had granted her a second life, she would live it for herself.

That night, she tossed and turned in bed.

In her dream, she once again walked down that long corridor, red lanterns lighting one by one, their crimson glow falling over the stone floor. She was barefoot, and the cold stones stung her feet.

Ahead stood a young man in a green robe, still cool and handsome. When he saw her, a flicker of pity crossed his eyes. He reached out to wipe the tears from her face.

“If there is a next life,” he said, “you won’t have to suffer like this.”

Ran Nannan woke with a start, her heart pounding wildly.

She reached up to touch her eyes. They were wet with real tears.

The next morning, she rummaged through the house for hours.

Finally, in one of her mother’s untouched old drawers, she found a small sandalwood box. She had kept it all along. It was carved with a faint lotus motif. As she opened it, a gentle, familiar scent drifted out.

Inside was a collection of herbal recipes—methods for skincare and wellness—etched so deeply into her memory from her past life that they had never faded. Though there was nothing physical inside, the formulas remained vivid in her mind.

She closed her eyes, recalling the old madam’s words from her previous life:
“Boil safflower in water and drink on an empty stomach to clear the complexion. Apply moonflower dew to the cheeks at night, and in seven days, your skin will smooth on its own…”

But back then, none of it was for her. It was all to prepare her for being sold at a high price.

Now, she could use it all for herself.

That afternoon, she brewed her first cup of safflower tea, sipping it gently. It was slightly bitter, but compared to the forced tonics of her past life, this felt almost tender.

That night, after her bath, she followed a recipe from memory: mixing chrysanthemum dew with a little honey and gently patting it onto her face. The fragrance was light and carried a calming power.

She patted her cheeks in the mirror, smiling slowly.

This was her second life. No more forced smiles through pain. She would use these ancient methods to shape a life she truly loved.

In the mirror, the girl smiled too—lips curving slightly, eyes glowing with a hint of light.

That night, she slept deeply.

In her dream, the young man stood once again at the end of the corridor, gazing at her. His eyes were deeper than ever, like still water. She walked quickly toward him and grasped his hand.

“You said,” she whispered, “that if there was a next life, I wouldn’t have to suffer.”

He paused, then smiled. It was faint, but soft, like snow melting in spring.

“All right,” he said.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtain, carrying the warmth of early summer.

Ran Nannan sat up, walked to the sink, and splashed her face with cool water. Droplets slid down her cheeks. She looked into the mirror—

And froze.

The girl in the mirror had skin so pale and translucent it looked like fine porcelain, so delicate it seemed it could hold a drop of water. Her features appeared even more vivid, and her naturally luminous eyes sparkled, like they held starlight.

She reached out and touched her face in disbelief.

It wasn’t makeup. It wasn’t a filtered glow. It was her real skin—radiant, glowing with a subtle luster.

Looking closer, even her eyelashes seemed longer, fluttering lightly like butterfly wings.

Her heart skipped a beat.

This… all from just two nights of ancient remedies?

Her phone buzzed on the table, snapping her out of her thoughts.

She walked over and picked it up. It was a message from her deskmate:
[Nannan! Let’s get together tomorrow—everyone from class is going. Don’t stay holed up at home!]

She stared at the message for a long moment, then slowly smiled.

“Sure.”

She typed those two words, her fingers light but firm with a new resolve.

Then she looked into the mirror and softly told the face that was both familiar and strange:

“Let’s try again.”

From today on, there was no more Second Miss of the Zhou family.

Only Ran Nannan—born to live for herself.