C1 Jian Yan

"Today, the funeral of our beloved star, Jane Yan, was held in North Green City. Numerous celebrities and big names attended to pay their respects, along with some international figures and renowned directors. Fans gathered on their own to bid farewell to their favorite star, Jane Yan..." The female news anchor, dressed in a black suit, reported the news with a somber tone, while live footage played on the screen beside her.

In stark contrast to the solemnity of the moment, a young woman sitting on the couch in front of the TV was expressionlessly munching on potato chips, the crunching sound oddly out of place with the news.

Though she appeared to be watching the report intently, her eyes held a deep-seated mockery. When the broadcast showed some actors and actresses she barely recognized, crying in front of Jane Yan's portrait, she even let out a derisive laugh.

Who knew when Jane Yan had become friends with these second-rate people? She might have crossed paths with them once or twice, yet here they were, reminiscing about fictional memories at her funeral. It was truly laughable.

This young woman looked nothing like the Jane Yan whose image flashed briefly on the screen, yet the curve of her lips was identical, carrying an innate arrogance that added a unique charm. If any of Jane Yan's friends had seen this young woman's expression, they would have instinctively called out "Jane Yan."

Yet, their faces bore no resemblance. Jane Yan's features were bright and bold, while this young woman's were gentle and demure. However, that arrogance shattered her gentle demeanor, even twisting her pretty face.

This young woman was called Shan Ruoshui, but she wasn't Shan Ruoshui.

She was Jane Yan.

The resurrected Jane Yan.

So it made sense why she watched the events of her own funeral with such a scornful smile.

Even though she was still very much alive, Shan Ruoshui picked up the remote and turned off the tear-jerking scene, tossing it onto the worn-out leather couch. She got up and poured herself a glass of water from the cooler. As a singer, she was careful to protect her voice, avoiding overly sweet drinks whenever possible.

The previous owner of this body, much like her name, was incredibly fragile. Although she was a hardworking newcomer, it seemed all her efforts went to waste. She didn't take care of her voice, overusing it to the point of exhaustion, and her songs lacked any emotion. No wonder people called her a pretty face with no talent.

When Shan first found herself in this body, her throat was unbelievably hoarse. The living room was a mess, littered with empty bottles and scattered sleeping pills, making it look like the aftermath of a drunken binge. On the coffee table lay a letter filled with disappointment in the world, written in a neat hand that matched the delicate appearance of its author.

Frowning, Shan took a sip of water, recalling that scene. If she didn't work hard and only blamed the world, she might as well have given up.

Coming from a singing background, Shan cleared away all traces of the previous Shan Ruoshui. The girlish, colorful decorations were packed up and shoved into the storage room, transforming the once cluttered space into something open and spacious. Her manager, Meng Hao, was amazed by the change and informed her about an upcoming show in a week with her bandmates.

Oh, I forgot to mention, Shan Ruoshui is part of a group. The company focused on promoting her bandmates, not her, the little daisy with no real talent.

Tomorrow is the day of the show.

Shan Ruoshui finished her glass of water and set the clear glass down on the coffee table. The idea of elevating some while stepping on others was all too familiar. If there was someone to praise, they would be praised; if not, they were left to fade away.

Picking up the program script her agent had sent over, Shan Ruoshui sat back down and began to read. Despite claims that reality shows were all about authenticity, the truth was that everything was rehearsed in advance, with a bit of improvisation thrown in.

The doorbell rang, its loud, jarring sound echoing through the old apartment. Shan Ruoshui frowned, exuding authority without anger. She tossed the script back onto the coffee table and shuffled to the door in her fuzzy slippers.

"Hello, your electronic keyboard and violin have arrived," said the delivery person from the music store.

"Hi, come on in," Shan Ruoshui replied, stepping aside to let them bring in the instruments. "Just set the keyboard in the living room."

The small size of her old apartment wasn't suitable for a piano, so she opted for an electronic keyboard and a violin—skills she had honed in her past life. Outwardly, she claimed it was to cultivate her artistic sensibilities, but in truth, it was all about maintaining a reputation for being multi-talented.

Shan Ruoshui gazed absentmindedly at the keyboard, not even noticing when the delivery person left. Her fingers brushed over the black and white keys, producing a discordant melody that suddenly filled the quiet living room.