When I opened my eyes, the blinding white light nearly made me faint again.
The sharp scent of disinfectant filled my nose, and the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor echoed in my ears. I tried to lift my hand to block the light, only to discover an IV tube stuck in my arm.
"Yuanyuan? You're awake?" a voice — unfamiliar, yet somehow familiar — came from my right.
I turned my neck with difficulty and saw a middle-aged woman with immaculate makeup clutching my hand. The thick foundation couldn't hide the puffiness around her eyes — she had clearly been crying. My mind was blank. I didn't know this woman, yet she called me "Yuanyuan"?
"Do...ctor..." I tried to speak, but was startled by how hoarse my voice sounded. It wasn't my voice.
The woman pressed the call button and gently wiped the cold sweat from my forehead with a tissue. "Don't be afraid, Mama's here. You've been in a coma for two days. The doctor said it's a miracle you woke up."
Mama?
My mother died of breast cancer three years ago. I stared at the well-maintained face in front of me and suddenly noticed a small black mole on her right earlobe — exactly where my mother had one.
An absurd thought struck me: this woman looked at least fifteen years younger — could she be my mother?
"Ms... Wen?" I croaked, my throat burning.
Her expression froze. "Yuanyuan, what's wrong? I'm your mom." Her voice began to tremble. "Doctor! Please come check on my daughter!"
The door burst open, and a team of doctors in white coats filed in. I was surrounded by machines, subjected to lights shining in my pupils, my limbs lifted and checked. When they asked for my name, I almost instinctively said "Wen Wan," but at the last second, I changed it: "Su... Yuanyuan."
That name was like a key, unlocking a floodgate of memories.
Three days ago, I — Wen Wan — had been driving to pick up my wedding dress when a runaway truck slammed into me. My last memory was the blinding headlights and the deafening crash. And now, I was awake — in someone else's body.
After the check-up, the doctor took "my mother" into the hallway. I strained to catch snippets of the conversation:
"…concussion may cause temporary memory loss… need monitoring… Miss Su is very lucky..."
I turned to the mirror on the bedside table. A stranger's face stared back at me — delicate oval face, almond eyes, thin lips, and a beauty mark under her right eye. It was the face of Su Yuanyuan, my half-sister. My mother had married into the Su family when I was ten. I barely knew Yuanyuan — we'd only met a few times at family gatherings.
When the nurse came to change my IV, I casually asked, "What day is it today?"
"Wednesday, May 18th," she replied with a smile.
My blood ran cold. The car crash happened on May 16th — meaning that at the same time I died, Su Yuanyuan also met with an accident.
I hesitated before asking, "Do you know when Wen Wan's funeral will be held?"
The nurse's expression became strange. "You mean Mr. Cheng's fiancée? Tomorrow at Nanshan Funeral Home." She lowered her voice. "How did you know? It hasn't been reported in the news yet."
I didn't answer. I just closed my eyes, pretending to be tired. When the room finally fell silent, tears slid down my cheeks.
My body now lay cold in the morgue — and my soul was trapped in my sister's body.
The cruelest part? Tomorrow, I would attend my own funeral as Su Yuanyuan.
---
The next morning, "Mother" — now I knew her name was Lin Yuehua — brought a black dress and veil.
"Yuanyuan, are you sure you want to go? The doctor said you need rest," she said gently, combing my long hair.
"I have to." I looked at the stranger in the mirror. "Wen Wan was... my sister, after all."
She paused, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. "You two weren't close."
"Blood is blood," I said softly, adding in my heart:
Especially when you're the one lying in that coffin.
Outside the Nanshan Funeral Home, luxury cars lined the street. As the Su family's Mercedes stopped, I saw my funeral portrait — it was one of my bridal photos. Cheng Yu had been cropped out. I smiled brightly in the picture, oblivious that death loomed just beyond the frame.
"Yuanyuan, take your father's arm," Lin Yuehua whispered.
Only then did I notice the tall man outside — Su Mingyuan, my stepfather and the powerful head of the Su Group. Despite being nearly sixty, he was well-kept and imposing. When I placed my hand on his arm, his muscles tensed unexpectedly.
"Don't do anything foolish," he muttered coldly. "Today is about the Cheng family."
Inside, somber music played. I stood in the family section, watching mourners bow before my photo. Cheng Yu stood in the front row — tall in his black suit. Just three months ago, we'd planned our honeymoon in Bali. Now he was attending my funeral.
As the host announced the farewell viewing, I stepped forward instinctively.
"Yuanyuan!" Lin Yuehua grabbed my wrist. "Where are you going?"
"I… I just want to see her." I broke free and walked to the crystal coffin.
The me inside was beautifully made up, as if merely sleeping. A white rose — my favorite — lay on my chest. My hands were folded over my abdomen — where Cheng Yu's engagement ring should have been.
I reached out, but a strong hand stopped me.
"Miss Su, please restrain yourself." Cheng Yu had appeared beside me. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw dark with stubble, his body reeking of smoke and liquor. He'd always hated cigarettes — yet now he held one between his fingers.
"Mr. Cheng…" I started, but didn't know what to say. Should I tell him I was Wen Wan? He'd think I was insane. But staying silent hurt even more.
Cheng Yu stared at my face, frowning. "Have we met?"
"At my father's sixtieth birthday party," I lied. "Wen Wan… she mentioned you."
His eyes softened briefly. "What did she say?"
"She said…" I swallowed the truth. "You're the most stubborn man she's ever met. Even insisted on one-sided eggs for ten years."
His pupils shrank — that was a private joke only the two of us knew. He grabbed my shoulders. "Who are you?"
"Mr. Cheng!" Su Mingyuan's voice interrupted. "Please let go of my daughter. She just left the hospital — she's emotionally unstable."
Cheng Yu released me, but his gaze clung to my face like it could pierce through flesh and bone. I looked down and retreated to Lin Yuehua's side, heart pounding.
After the ceremony, I tried to avoid him — but just before I got in the car, he stopped me.
"Miss Su," he said, handing me a business card. "If you remember anything about Wen Wan, please contact me."
As our fingers touched, a jolt of electricity shot through me. Cheng Yu seemed to feel it too. He gave me a long, unreadable look and walked away.
---
On the ride home, Su Mingyuan turned from the passenger seat. "Yuanyuan, stay away from Cheng Yu. Wen Wan's death wasn't simple. The police are still investigating."
"What do you mean?" I clenched my fists. "Are you saying it wasn't an accident?"
Silence fell. Lin Yuehua looked tense. Su Mingyuan's face darkened. "This isn't something you should be concerned with. Rest. You're going back to the company next week."
I stared out the window, my mind churning.
If my death wasn't an accident, what about Yuanyuan's coma — or death?
Why was my soul in her body?
Back at the Su family's mansion in a high-end district, a young maid rushed down the stairs.
"Miss Yuanyuan! You're finally home!"
It was Xiao He, Su Yuanyuan's personal maid. I recognized her from family photos. She helped me upstairs, chattering non-stop.
My "room" was a spacious suite at the end of the hall — minimalist and modern, contrasting Su Yuanyuan's sweet looks.
"Xiao He," I asked, "Can you get me some sleeping pills? The doctor said I need rest."
Her expression turned wary. "Master said no medications for you."
That was suspicious. After she left, I began searching the room. Makeup and high-fashion clothes filled the drawers, and business books lay on the nightstand — the perfect rich girl life.
But under the mattress, I found a locked metal box.
I tried several passwords — all failed. Then I entered Wen Wan's birthday — it clicked open.
Inside were a diary and several photos. In the photos, Su Yuanyuan met secretly with a man in sunglasses — dated a week before my accident.
The last page of the diary read:
"They found out. If I don't obey, Wen Wan will be in danger. But I can't... What should I do?"
My hands trembled.
Yuanyuan knew someone wanted to kill me?
Was her coma linked to my crash?
Just as I flipped for more clues, someone knocked.
"Yuanyuan, dinner's ready," Lin Yuehua called from outside.
I quickly hid the box and followed her downstairs.
At the table sat Su Mingyuan and another young woman — Su Qing, the eldest Su daughter. More beautiful and aggressive than her photos, she scrutinized me like prey.
"Word is, you almost made a scene at the funeral," she sneered, cutting her steak. "First thing you do after waking is gawk at a corpse? Freak."
"Su Qing!" Lin Yuehua scolded.
"Am I wrong?" she smirked. "She's always stolen from others. Now she's stealing a dead woman's spotlight."
I gripped my knife tightly.
Su Yuanyuan's life in this house was far from glamorous.
Su Mingyuan ate in silence, ignoring the tension. The meal was tasteless. I excused myself early, claiming a headache.
Back in the room, I resumed reading the diary.
As I dug deeper, a terrifying truth emerged: Su Yuanyuan had discovered a plot to kill me. She tried to warn me, but was threatened.
Her last entry was from the day of the crash:
"I must see Wen Wan today. Father and Sister's plan is too cruel. If I fail, at least… the evidence…"
The diary ended abruptly.
I searched the box again — no evidence.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number:
"I know who you are, Wen Wan."