Chapter 4: Whispers of Air
Xiulan drifted into consciousness, enveloped by silk sheets and the subtle aroma of sandalwood incense. Every muscle protested as she pushed herself upright. Clean white bandages wrapped her injuries, and a light chemise replaced her heavy robe.
The ornate furniture and jade decorations surrounding her belonged in an honored guest chamber, not the modest servant quarters she typically occupied. This doesn’t make sense... unless...
The memory of confronting her sisters before the gathered officials surfaced. Lord Lin’s thunderous reaction. Of course—appearances mattered more than anything.
Her improved treatment served his face, not her comfort. It left a bitter taste.
How long will this last? Madam Zhang and her daughters wouldn’t let the slight pass. She was sure they’d already be plotting their revenge.
A golden bell-pull cord hung beside the bed, its purpose clear. Xiulan tugged it, sending a gentle chime echoing through the room.
The silence shattered as two junior servants burst through the door. Their unfamiliar faces beamed with eager attention.
“Miss Lin! You’re awake!” The first servant bowed deeply. “Do you need water? Tea perhaps?”
“Should we fetch the physician?” The second servant stepped forward. “Or would you prefer to break your fast first?”
Xiulan blinked at the rapid-fire questions. “I... water would be fine.”
The door creaked again as another maid entered, carrying fresh linens. Something about her struck Xiulan—the way she moved, the slight tilt of her head. Memory stirred like ripples in still water.
“Mei Chen?” The name slipped from Xiulan’s lips.
The maid greeted her with a smile. “Miss Xiulan?”
“Could I speak with Mei Chen alone?” Xiulan addressed the other servants.
The two exchanged surprised glances, but nodded. “Of course, Miss Lin.” They shuffled out, closing the door behind them.
“Miss Xiulan, are you feeling well?” Mei Chen clutched the linens to her chest. “You seem... different.”
“Do you know what happened?” Xiulan adjusted herself against the pillows.
“Yes, Miss.” Mei Chen set the linens aside. “But please, don’t provoke Madam Zhang or your sisters further. They’ll seek revenge.”
“I know that all too well.” Xiulan traced the edge of her bandage. “But what choice did I have? They tried to eliminate me. I just defended myself.”
Mei Chen’s hand flew to her mouth. “Surely they didn’t try to... to...” The words died in her throat.
Xiulan reached out to pat Mei Chen’s arm. “Can I trust you?”
“Of course!” Mei Chen straightened. “You’ve always shown me kindness. You’re my friend, Miss Xiulan.”
The embrace came naturally as she pulled Mei Chen close. “Thank you for being here.”
A strange disconnect washed over Xiulan. The memories of Li Mei clashed with her current reality. Was it right to leverage Xiulan’s relationships like this? But these memories, this body, this life—they belonged to her now, too.
Right? It was all so very confusing. But no matter what, she felt warmth toward Mei Chen and Zhang Wei, so what was wrong with that?
Mei Chen pulled back and pressed her forehead against Xiulan’s. “Are you truly well? You seem disoriented.”
“Just shaken.” Xiulan attempted a weak laugh. “I need to know what’s happened since I lost consciousness. How long was I asleep?”
“Two days, Miss. Doctor Jin visited daily to treat you. He predicted you’d wake soon.”
Two days. Xiulan’s mind raced through calculations. Tomorrow marked the last day of Madam Zhang’s banquet. Time pressed against her like a physical weight.
“What date is it?” Xiulan gripped the silk sheets tighter.
Mei Chen frowned. “The fifteenth day of March, Miss Xiulan.”
Spring. She had guessed right, before. The cherry blossoms visible through the window seemed to confirm it as well.
“And the year?”
“Kingdom Chronicle Year 885.” Mei Chen sat down on the side of the bed.
Xiulan blinked rapidly. The words echoed in her mind, refusing to make sense. “Kingdom Chronicle Year?”
“Miss Xiulan, are you well?” Mei Chen reached toward her forehead.
“Where...” Xiulan swallowed hard. “Where exactly are we?”
“In Lord Lin’s manor, of course. In Blackmere city.”
“Yes, but Blackmere is part of...?”
“The Ducal Province of Aeris.” Mei Chen wrung her hands. “In the Kingdom of Arinthia. Should I fetch Doctor Jin Wei? You seem unwell.”
Each name struck like a physical blow.
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Kingdom Chronicle Year. Aeris. Arinthia. The familiar terms belonged to Li Mei’s memories, not Xiulan’s. They were names from Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles —the game she’d loaded just before stepping out for that fatal drink. The game she’d spent countless hours playing whenever she had free time.
The throbbing in her head intensified as two sets of memories warred within her mind. The modern world of Li Mei clashed violently against the medieval reality of Lin Xiulan.
What the absolute fuck? The coincidence stretched beyond belief. Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles had somehow become her reality—or she’d lost her mind completely.
“Miss? Miss?” Mei Chen shook Xiulan’s shoulder. “You’re scaring me.”
Xiulan patted Mei Chen’s arm and exhaled slowly. “I apologize for worrying you. The confusion from waking up... it’s passing now.” She managed a small smile. “I’m just grateful you’re here with me.”
“Of course, Miss Xiulan.” Mei Chen straightened the bedding. “Doctor Jin left specific instructions for when you woke.”
“Oh?” Xiulan shifted against the pillows.
“Yes. He insisted you get cleaned up and start with a light soup to rebuild your strength.”
A growl from Xiulan’s stomach punctuated the suggestion. “That sounds perfect. Could you inform the other maids to notify Doctor Jin?” She smoothed the silk sheets. “And perhaps arrange for that soup?”
“Right away!” Mei Chen beamed. “Should I help you wash and dress?”
“Please.” Xiulan swung her legs over the bed’s edge. The prospect of food awakened a fierce hunger she hadn’t noticed before.
Mei Chen darted from the room with quick steps. She returned moments later and guided Xiulan through ornate wooden doors into an adjoining washroom. Steam rose from a large wooden tub, and the scent of jasmine oils perfumed the air.
Red crystals glowed at the bottom of the tub, their warm light rippling through the clear water. Firestones. Of course.
This isn’t just historical China—it’s Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles.
The realization sparked through her mind like lightning. The game’s complex system of magic and cultivation existed here, layered beneath the mundane world she’d witnessed so far. Her family’s wealth meant access to basic magical items like firestones and spirit stones, though they lived firmly in the mortal realm.
Cultivation. The word echoed in her thoughts with new significance. The game’s progression system wasn’t just virtual anymore—it was almost certainly real.
The thought left her feeling tipsy. Superpowers could be achieved here!
“Let me help you, Miss Xiulan.” Mei Chen stepped forward with practiced ease.
The familiar routine flowed naturally as Mei Chen unwrapped the bandages and then helped remove her chemise. Fresh scabs marked Xiulan’s ankle where the skin had torn.
“Did Doctor Jin mention if I could submerge it?” Xiulan pointed to her injured foot.
“He said it should be fine now.” Mei Chen retrieved a small ceramic jar from a nearby shelf. “The risk of infection has passed. He left this ointment for your ankle and head.”
“Thank you for taking care of me.” Xiulan slipped into the wooden tub.
Heat enveloped her body, the temperature hovering just below what was bearable.
Warm water cascaded down Xiulan’s back as Mei Chen worked with gentle, practiced motions. The soft cloth swept across her skin, washing away days of sweat and worry. Steam rose from the firestone-heated bath, carrying the subtle scent of jasmine oil through the air.
Mei Chen hummed softly while tidying the scattered bandages and gathering fresh towels. The quiet domesticity created a peaceful bubble, allowing Xiulan’s thoughts to drift and settle.
A mortal noble’s daughter in Blackmere County.
The title felt both foreign and familiar. Blackmere ranked among the poorest counties in Arinthia, despite—or perhaps because of—its position within the Dukedom of Aeris. The sparse resources and constant political maneuvering left little room for advancement for mortals or immortals.
That would be both a problem and a blessing. Getting what she needed would be harder, but there would be fewer eyes watching her. Certainly less scary ones.
The bath’s heat seeped into her muscles, but couldn’t wash away the cold reality of her situation. Her own family sought her death. Even now, Madam Zhang plotted revenge while her sisters nursed their wounds and bruised pride.
Mortals die here. Often. The knowledge surfaced from Li Mei’s countless hours of gameplay. NPCs—no, people now—perished from monster attacks, political schemes, or simple accidents. Life held little value beyond the walls of major cities and noble estates.
The date nagged at her. Kingdom Chronicle Year 885. Five years before the game’s starting point. Before the fall of Arinthia. Before the monsters emerged in full force.
Before everything changed.
In the game, players had rebuilt from ruins, developed powers, and forged new destinies. But now? The kingdom stood intact. The cataclysm remained a future echo, a disaster that hadn’t yet struck.
I know what’s coming. The thought sent ripples through the bathwater as she shifted. But can I change it?
Xiulan slid deeper into the bath until the warm water touched her chin. The Phoenix Princess still lived. The royal family remained whole. No armies gathered at the borders. No monsters prowled the wilderness. The invasion existed only in her memories of a game not yet played out in her new reality.
She submerged until only her nose broke the surface, watching ripples spread across the water. Five years stretched before her like an open road. Five years to prepare for catastrophe.
Five years to change fate itself. Was she being melodramatic? Maybe it came from her Xiulan side?
Xiulan, do you want to save the world?
There was no response, not that she had expected one.
The water dripped from her nose as she surfaced with a frown. Her current position at the bottom of her family’s social ladder presented an immediate obstacle. The Lin family barely registered as minor nobility, and her status as a second daughter placed her even lower.
Worse still, her body lacked the strength and skill of a cultivator. No mystical energy coursed through her meridians. No supernatural abilities waited at her fingertips. Not yet.
“Status,” she whispered experimentally. Nothing happened. “Inventory?” Silence answered. “System?”
The familiar game interfaces remained stubbornly absent. No helpful menus appeared. No statistical readouts materialized, and there were no quest markers to point the way forward.
Steam swirled around her face as uncertainty crept into her thoughts. The game knowledge stored in her mind offered strategic value, but implementation required resources she didn’t possess. Her college and retail experience wouldn’t help her fight monsters or cultivate magical powers.
A chill ran through her despite the bath’s warmth. This wasn’t a game anymore. No save points. No respawns. Just the raw reality of a world on the brink of chaos.
She was going to need to get started, and quick.