Chapter 1: The Ghost of Betrayal
...****************...
The city sprawled beneath her, a neon-lit landscape of towering structures and artificial rivers. From this height, the skyline of the 25th-century metropolis was breathtaking-a testament to the power and innovation she had helped build. Standing on the edge of her penthouse balcony, Feng Xiaoxiao looked out over it all-her empire, her creation. She was clad in dark, well-tailored clothes that spoke of quiet authority; her eyes were as keen and cold as frost, unblemished by the beauty of the world she ruled. Power vibrated along every line of her poised frame, a living testament to discipline and unbreakable will.
A soft chime filled her earpiece. "Lady Feng, your presence is requested in the council hall," a voice greeted her, formal, yet hesitant, as though fearing to interrupt her solitude.
She tapped the device on her wrist, silencing the message in a swift, economical motion of her finger. Her gaze never wavered off the cityscape before her. In this world, no one dared make demands upon her—not anymore. She granted requests if she so pleased, or dismissed them if she did not. Her reputation alone had quelled nations and quieted rivals. Feng Xiaoxiao was a name spoken with respect and fear, for she was a force who could bend the will of emperors, shaping fates.
Yet, in the quiet of night, there was a memory of sorts. Like an ice crack in her fortress, an echo of the past played within her mind, a memory that had long been locked away with the hope of never returning.
She recalled the night of betrayal, the night she learned what trust actually cost.
Years ago, when she was not this unreachable fairy, Feng Xiaoxiao had been a young prodigy, celebrated for her talent in martial arts and medicine. And so, full of dreams to protect the people she loves, Feng Xiaoxiao worked hard to fight her way to the top. That night she stood on a stage much like this-in the reception of an award recognizing her as a rising star. For every time the crowd had applauded her, that sound of applause had filled her with hope, cheer after cheer a promise of the future she thought awaited her.
But then, as she held her award, a quiet urgent whisper reached her ear.
"Lady Feng, your sister has been injured. She's asking for you."
Those words had sent a chill down her spine. Yiyi-her loved sister, her one weakness-was hurt. Not wasting another moment, Xiaoxiao abandoned the celebration, her heels frantically clicking on the polished floors as she hurried toward finding her sister. Her mind whirled with worry, her thoughts huddling over possibilities. Yiyi was her responsibility, her family-her heart.
She had burst into the room, wild-eyed, panting… and was confronted by a scene which sent her world crashing down.
There was Yiyi, uninjured and laughing softly, her eyes bright with mischief. Slung over her shoulder, arm hooked possessively about her, was Mo Tianheng—Xiaoxiao's boyfriend, the man she had loved and trusted. For a second, she didn't understand what she was seeing. It was as if time did a slow dance as her mind fought to make sense of it all, placing together those pieces into this wicked jigsaw.
Yiyi looked up, her eyes meeting Xiaoxiao's with a chill of a smile. There was no remorse or shame, just the bent satisfaction of the twisted people. "Oh, sister," she had murmured, each word laced with mockery. "Did you really think you were the only one he cared for?
All along, Xiaoxiao's chest had tightened, her heart breaking as she looked to Mo Tianheng, searching his face for any sign of regret, an explanation. But he'd only smirked, his eyes cold and dismissive.
"You were useful, Xiaoxiao," he'd said, all emotion dripping from his voice. "But you never understood that your role was temporary. Do you honestly think someone like me would settle for someone like you?
The words cut through her like a whip, cruel and razor-sharp; each sentence had shredded her illusions. How many nights she had wasted, how many times she had put the needs of Yiyi and Mo Tianheng before her own, thinking that would be enough… only to find she had been no more than a pawn in their plans. It was as though the agony of betrayal had twisted inside her chest, stealing her breath, breaking her.
But she hadn't crumbled. Instead, she had let the betrayal harden her. In that one instant, she knew that the world did not reward kindness or loyalty; it rewarded strength. The people she loved had used her for a stepping stone, and she would never allow herself to be so weak again.
She had walked away that night, mute, each step a promise to her soul that she would rise above this, untouchable, someone they all would fear. She would make herself powerful so no one could ever betray her again.
---
DAY.
-
Now, standing in her penthouse and staring out at the city she ruled, Feng Xiaoxiao felt a rare pang of something she barely recognized-a flicker of that old pain buried so deeply she thought it had been erased. But it was quickly smothered by the steely resolve that had carried her this far.
"Lady Feng," the voice in her earpiece persisted, softer, more tentative this time.
She breathed in, allowed herself that one moment of remembering how the betrayal had lit a fire in her, how cold resolve had hardened her heart into iron. She was beyond that pain now; it was the bedrock on which she'd built her empire. Yiyi, Mo Tianheng-they were nothing, shadows behind her, while she stood on the pinnacle of the world, unreachable.
Tell the council they will wait," she said finally, her tone smooth, cold. She turned back to the city, in her eyes the flickering of neon lights like shards of ice. The world belonged to her now-because she had claimed it, piece by piece, with the strength she had forged from her own ashes.
She stared out over her empire and felt nothing but satisfaction. She had become everything she once dreamed, and more. The girl who had been betrayed was gone; in her place stood a legend, cold, powerful, and utterly unbreakable.
In the 25th century, Feng Xiaoxiao was untouchable. And that's how she intended to stay.
---
Chapter 2: The Fall and Awakening
The last thing Feng Xiaoxiao remembered was standing alone in her state-of-the-art lab, the buzz of triumph humming in her veins as her experiment neared completion. She had spent years perfecting this invention-something that could very well alter the course of energy as humans knew it. Her genius was unparalleled, her influence undisputed. She stood at the pinnacle of the world, an object of fear and respect, a master of every path she walked.
And yet that night, she'd felt something funny-a prickle at the back of her mind, a feeling that things were… off. Her colleagues were conspicuously absent, her lab empty of the usual assistants. Shrugging off her unease, she'd continued on alone, hands steady on the controls, mind racing with equations and projections. She was only moments away from history-the first to unlock a source of limitless energy.
Then, out of the blue, she had heard footsteps echo in the hall behind her—quick, deliberate, and familiar. Turning, she was shocked to see the silhouette of her closest friend and confidant, Xu Wei. He stepped into the light, but instead of warmth, his gaze held only cold indifference. And standing beside him was her own sister, Feng Ling, her face twisted into a smug, venomous smile.
"Feng Xiaoxiao," Xu Wei's voice had been even, almost clinical as he stepped closer. "This should have always been mine. You were too blinded by your power to see the danger of keeping it all for yourself."
And before she could act upon it, before the treachery had time to sink in, he had flipped the switch on her own invention-a wave of pure energy that would detonate in a single, blistering flash, and heat so great it was incomprehensible. She felt herself tear into a million pieces as the world blurred around her. Anger, betrayal, and a searing, burning need to scratch her way back-to show them all what it truly meant to cross her-had been her last thoughts.
---
When Feng Xiaoxiao opened her eyes, it was not to sterile gleaming walls of her lab, nor the cold gaze of her traitorous sister. She was met by an earthy scent of damp soil and the soft rustling of leaves. The mind struggled to catch up with surroundings that refused to gel in her head as she blinked. She lay in a forest-so thick, so ancient, its bounds seemingly endless before her.
She sat up slowly, her body foreign and strangely delicate. Gone was the strength and resilience of her former self; this new frame was slender, fragile. Her hands—so accustomed to the precision of complex machinery—were now slender and calloused, the hands of someone who had known hardship. As she flexed her fingers, disjointed fragments of memories that were not her own deluged her mind.
In this life, she was still Feng Xiaoxiao, the daughter of the Prime Minister, born into nobility yet abandoned to cruelty. Her father and brother, her household protectors, had gone to war ten years ago and were useless. These recollections were as clear as crystal, carrying a cold edge of loneliness and mute torture hung upon her. Her stepmother treated her as if she were a burden, and her stepsister never stopped making sure that she kept reminding Feng Xiaoxiao of her inferiority-she was delighted with every single moment of Feng Xiaoxiao's suffering.
Memories of her past life collided with this reality, a strange, bitter marriage of betrayals across two lifetimes. She had been betrayed at the height of her power in her past life; in this one, she had been worn down from the beginning. But there was one truth the two shared: those closest wanted to destroy her.
A low growl snapped her back to the present. Eyes sharpening, she turned toward a wolf prowling toward her, staring with a hunger that spoke of predatory intent. Instincts honed from years of martial arts training in her past life kicked in, and she crouched low, gaze never leaving the beast.
She grasped at a fallen branch, clenching it tightly in her hands. While her body was so much weaker, her mind was still razor-sharp, and her spirit unbreakable. In the wolf's lunge, she dodged and pressed the branch forward with all the precision possible. The wolf yelped in pain, retreating into the shadows of the forest to leave her alone once more.
She exhaled, and her breath misted in the morning air as she took stock of her surroundings. This new life was raw and unforgiving, but she was a survivor. She had proved it once before, and she would again.
Feng Xiaoxiao cast one last look around the forest, with the fog wrapping itself around her like a shroud.
---
Chapter 3: The Stranger in the Shadows
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the forest became even colder, and the long shadows cast from the dense underbrush sent a shroud over the entire area. Stepping out as silently as possible, Feng Xiaoxiao moved with light and cautious steps against the unfamiliar landscape. Her new body wasn't used to this sort of survival, but her mind was a steel trap, carrying with it the experience of myriad obstacles overcome in her past life. Once a divine doctor hailed for her extraordinary healing skills, she had mastered how to survive. Every rustle, every movement was noted and analyzed as her senses heightened.
She was fighting her way through a thicket when the faint groan came-a low, pained sound that cut through the silence of the woods. She froze, immediately on high alert. Stepping in the direction of the sound, she parted the branches and made out the figure slumped against a tree trunk, its form barely visible in the poor light.
It was a young man, his face pale and drawn with pain. His clothes were of fine quality-soft silks and an intricate embroidery that clearly marked him from noble birth-but both were rent and stained with blood. Still, the condition in which he was showed evidence of an ambush or, at worst, left to his death.
He looked up as she approached, his dark eyes narrowing, wary but defiant. "Who… are you?" he rasped low, his voice barely a whisper.
Feng Xiaoxiao took in his injuries with a clinical gaze. She did not recognize his face, but she could tell he was in bad shape: blood oozed from a gash in his side and stained his hand as he pressed against it to staunch the bleeding. The wound was deep, too critical to survive without aid.
"I should be asking you that," she returned coolly. "What are you doing bleeding out in the middle of the forest?"
He tried to straighten, but a wave of pain washed over him, and he gritted his teeth, barely keeping himself from collapsing. "It doesn't concern you. Leave me be."
She scorned his pride at trying to save face, even in such a weakened condition. "If I leave you here, you'll be dead by morning. Now, hold still. I don't have the patience to deal with stubborn fools."
He blinked in surprise at her tone, clearly not accustomed with being spoken to so matter-of-factly. But the strength was ebbing, and he did not resist as she knelt beside him to survey his wound. In her last life, Feng Xiaoxiao had been a divine doctor whose healing skills were considered miraculous. Though untaught in the medicine of this world, her accumulated experience allowed her to keep a person alive-especially one as close to death as he was.
"Bite down on this," she said, breaking off a clean branch and handing it to him.
He looked at her, his eyes flashing suspicion, but he did as instructed, clenching the wood between his teeth. Quickly, she tore a strip from the hem of her own garment and began the cleaning of the wound. His body went taut with pain, a stifled groan escaping from him, but he uttered no word of protest. She worked rhythmically, her attention riveted on the task in hand, shutting her ears to his occasional pained gasps.
It wasn't long before he caught his breath, gaze fastened on her as she bound up the wound with practiced ease. "You're not. an ordinary woman, are you?" he whispered, weak but inquisitive.
She barely looked up to shrug. "If you think everybody would leave you to bleed out, then maybe not.
A faint, bitter smile tugged at his lips. "I've seen plenty of people do just that. Why not you?"
Feng Xiaoxiao paused for a moment, her eyes flickering over his face before she returned to her work. "Consider it repayment. In my past life, I gave people second chances they didn't deserve. Maybe you'll make better use of yours.
He frowned, puzzled by her odd words, but was too worn out to question it. Once she had bandaged his cut, she carefully laid him back against the tree, positioning him more comfortably. "Stay here," she said. "I'll find something to make a fire."
But before he could answer, she had disappeared into the trees, returning in a few seconds with a bunch of twigs and dry leaves. As she worked, her eyes suddenly fell on something-a glint of something-which she knew that he wore upon his neck: some slight necklace, a trinket of the class. The hands of artistry had strung it and reflected the dying light so that a spark ran through her memory.
When she came back and lit the fire, his eyes kept firm on hers with a curious persistence-as if he would divine, muddle her soul. "You're not afraid of me?" he asked finally in an undertone, low as a whisper, as if he was afraid to tell of his identity, yet proud of it.
She returned his regard, unblinking. "Should I be? You're just a bleeding man to me in the woods. Whatever titles you hold mean nothing to me right now."
He chuckled-weakly, for it took a lot of effort for him. "Strange woman."
They sat in a silence for a while, just the crackling of the fire softly between them. She watched him warily as he drifted in and out of sleep, occasionally muttering fevered words she couldn't quite catch. The flickering firelight showed her glimpses of his face, and if pale from blood loss, there was a certain regality in his features-a quiet strength that spoke of life accustomed to command. There was something about him-an undeniable magnetism that pulled her thoughts back to him, no matter how hard she tried to stay detached.
At last, it was morning, and the first light of it danced on the treetops, stirring him; he opened his eyes with clarity now. The fever had broken, and his color was coming back. He looked at her warily, as if he soothed the riddle that was her. And in that instant, his eyes fell upon the necklace she wore: dainty, crafted out of jade, unmistakably the insignia of the Prime Minister's family.
"You have my thanks," he said, his voice a little stronger now. "I am well and truly in your debt."
Feng Xiaoxiao just shrugged, her eyes glacial and indifferent. "Repay me by staying alive."
When she finally stood, throwing one last glance his way, the man she'd saved suddenly tensed, eyes flashing with recognition. "Wait… you're the Prime Minister's daughter, aren't you?"
She cocked an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?
The necklace," he replied, his hand weakly gesturing towards her neck. "Only a few bear that mark, and I have seen it before."
She felt a flash of uneasiness but covered it quickly. "Titles mean little to me out here. I'm just trying to survive.
She didn't wait for an answer but turned and walked away; the soft crunch of leaves beneath her feet faded into the forest. For now, he was a nameless stranger she had saved. Whoever he truly was, and whatever debts or favors he felt he owed her, meant nothing. Survival was her only goal.
But as she disappeared into the trees, the young man watched her dwindling form, his eyes unreadable. She knew it not, but he had fallen for her upon sight, smitten with her strength and that hard determination that seemed to sear right out of her being. He had saved no other than the Crown Prince of the realm. And he would remember her—a nameless girl with a strange mix of cold indifference and fierce strength.
With a final glance around her at the forest, she felt a little gratified. Another life being saved, another choice being made on her terms. Yet, deep within her, there was a lingering question: had she unknowingly bound herself to the fate of the Crown Prince?
---
Download MangaToon APP on App Store and Google Play