"What the fuck?" Su Wanyan blurted out loud, staring at her phone screen like it had personally betrayed her. "You're telling me these two did all that messed-up stuff like manipulation, framing people, even murder—and everyone still calls them a heaven-sent couple? Are you kidding me?"
She tossed the phone onto her bed with a huff. The novel had started as a joke recommendation from her friend—"It's trashy ABO yaoi, you'll hate-love it"—and yeah, she did. The male omega was a total Mary Sue, batting his lashes and getting away with everything, while the domineering alpha male lead turned full yandere for him. Ridiculous.
Su Wanyan rubbed her tired eyes. Staying up late reading junk like this was basically a doctor's hobby, but she had an early shift tomorrow. Kids at the hospital didn't deserve a zombie pediatrician. She chuckled softly at the thought, turned off the light, and let sleep pull her under.
Unseen in the dark, a faint glow flickered from her phone screen, spreading like soft mist until it wrapped around her completely.
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Su Wanyan stirred, rolling from her left side to her right. Something felt.. off. The mattress cradled her like a cloud, way too plush, way too forgiving. Her pillow was pure silk, cool and smooth against her cheek. But her bed was a lumpy hand-me-down that creaked with every move. This? This was luxury she hadn't felt since her family was still rich.
Her eyes snapped open.
A painted mural stretched across the ceiling: fluffy clouds, a rainbow arching gently, birds soaring free, and a serene lake reflecting the sky. It looked like the dreamy pictures her little patients described when they felt better—"The world is pretty again, Doctor Su."
Heart racing with a mix of panic and weird excitement, she sat up slowly.
Sunlight slipped through sheer curtains, turning the room honey-gold and soft. No harsh glare, just warm patches on cream walls touched with muted greens and sky blues. Everything felt gentle, rounded furniture edges, like someone worried about bumped heads.
On the bedside table sat a warm-glowing lamp and a framed kid's drawing: crooked stick figures holding hands under a giant yellow sun. Wobbly letters at the bottom read, Thank you, Doctor Su. Her throat tightened. This wasn't random decor. It was a treasure.
Across the room, a cozy sitting area waited: plush sofa with a neatly folded knit throw, a low shelf of worn children's books mixed with thick medical texts and organized files. Work and comfort, side by side, with no tension between them.
Near the window, a wooden desk caught the light. Tidy but lived-in a cute animal-shaped pen holder, a stethoscope resting gently, not shoved away. This room belonged to someone who loved their job, who carried the weight of it softly.
It was luxurious, sure, but not flashy.
Actually.. it was perfect. Exactly how she'd decorate if she ever had money again. Soft colors, thoughtful touches, kid-friendly warmth.
Cool, but what the hell? Where the fuck was she? The last thing she remembered was going to sleep. So.. where? Su Wanyan recalled what happened last night.
Last night: came home exhausted from the clinic, binged that dumb novel, went to sleep in her cramped apartment.
Now this? Kidnapped? But who'd bother? Her family had lost everything years ago. She was just a regular doctor scraping by to keep the family clinic open.
Panic twisted in her gut. She swung her legs off the bed, ready to bolt for the door—when a migraine slammed into her like a truck.
She dropped to her knees, clutching her head. The pain was crushing, white-hot, like her skull was splitting open. She tried to scream for help, but only ragged gasps and whimpers escaped. Tears blurred her vision. Make it stop, please.. she begged in her mind, but as if to make her more miserable, it only worsened.
It felt like forever, but finally the agony faded.
Su Wanyan collapsed forward, drenched in sweat, chest heaving. Memories that weren't hers poured in: a life as a successful pediatrician, a rich family from Chengdu, childhood parties with other elite kids.. and a spot on a viral variety show called Love House: Pheromone War.
The exact same yaoi novel she'd just finished.
She wasn't kidnapped.
She'd transmigrated.
"Fuck," Su Wanyan whispered to the empty room.