After Transmigrating into a Book, I Became Partners with My Mortal Enemy - Chapter 2

The junior sister sitting beside Ding Xiandi apologized, “Sorry, Second Senior Sister, I didn’t control my strength just now. Does it hurt?”

The original owner’s junior sister had her hair styled in two buns, resembling two overly fermented steamed buns.

Ding Xiandi couldn’t bring herself to get angry and asked, “Was I asleep just now?”

Mei Chi replied, “You looked like you were dead.”

The two of them sat side by side, and someone dozing off behind them burst into laughter upon hearing this.

The person was also a sword cultivator, with a crooked headpiece and unruly strands of hair at the temples, making it look almost fake at first glance.

Ding Xiandi matched the name from the book by the long purple tassel earrings dangling from her ears Juan Yuanjia.

As someone who had transmigrated into the role of a malicious supporting female character, Ding Xiandi knew that the original owner had unrequited feelings for a straight woman. Yet, while flipping through the pages, she discovered the female lead’s hidden romantic history.

Ming Jing had once been engaged to a cultivator from a branch of the Juan family.

However, after Ming Jing successfully rose from a side branch to become one of the heirs, the engagement was adjusted according to her new status.

Unfortunately, no suitable cultivator of matching age and standing could be found higher up.

Since the Glimmering Continent had no rules against same-sex cultivation partnerships, Juan Yuanjia’s betrothal letter was simply redirected to the Ming family.

Before Ding Xiandi could say anything, the junior sister who came with her transmigration turned to the person and snapped, “What are you laughing at?”

Sword cultivators’ robes were all in shades of blue, and the fabric quality indicated one’s wealth.

The female cultivator in high-quality fabric shrugged slightly and replied to Mei Chi, “I’m laughing at what you said.”

The book didn’t describe the original owner in much detail. Aside from serving as a plot device to introduce the demon tribe, her role was mainly to highlight the female lead’s charm.

Ding Xiandi had only read a little over a hundred chapters and skipped to the ending related to her own character. She had no idea whether the author later explained the positioning of the three sects, nor did she know if this junior sister had any further appearances in the story.

Given the original owner’s cannon fodder setting, the junior sister was likely even less significant practically an extra in the book.

Ding Xiandi suddenly felt a pang of envy. Being an extra was still better than being the malicious supporting female character.

The same sword cultivator robe hung loosely on Mei Chi, with the shoulder seams drooping to her elbows. Though only two years younger than Ding Xiandi, the overly childish junior sister had a surprisingly big appetite and was still stuffing food into her mouth during class.

Even among cultivators who hadn’t achieved fasting, few indulged so heavily in food. From the moment she enrolled, she had earned the nickname “rice bucket” for spending all her time at the canteen.

“Second Senior Sister, did I say something wrong?”

Mei Chi’s face was as round as the American Shorthair cat Ding Xiandi’s mother had raised.

The person being questioned found it hard to answer and could only retort, “How did I look like I was dead?”

The instructor on the platform was already a powerful figure among the Glimmering Continent’s cultivators and paid little attention to the disciples below, turning a blind eye to such minor discussions.

Taking advantage of the instructor’s lecture, Ding Xiandi got a recap of the earlier events from her junior sister.

The original owner had long harbored feelings for Ming Jing and had spent a fortune sending love letters via immortal cranes. The day before, after a shared sword cultivation class, Ming Jing had called her out and rejected her in person.

The junior sister, chewing on a steamed bun and swaying side to side, was quite skilled at comforting others: “Second Senior Sister, don’t be sad. So many people have written love letters to Senior Sister Ming, but she only rejected you face-to-face. That shows you’re special.”

The surrounding area was bustling with students leaving class, and of course, some overheard Mei Chi’s words, leading to continuous snickers.

Juan Yuanjia, sitting behind them, didn’t seem like a properly groomed young mistress from a cultivation family but more like someone idly watching the drama on the streets.

She chimed in, “I was in the same class with you all yesterday, and I thought the same thing.”

Ding Xiandi was left speechless. Meeting her junior sister’s sincere, blinking gaze, she managed to utter a word of thanks.

Just then, the young woman who had been questioned by the instructor earlier happened to pass by.

It was unclear what had disappointed her, but as she brushed past, she muttered “fool” at Ding Xiandi, her voice still carrying that innate delicacy, a near-perfect match of at least ninety percent.

Among the onlookers lingering without rushing to their next class, the female cultivator who had been seated beside You Fuling earlier never expected such a sudden outburst and called out her nickname as a reminder.

A-Shan.

Even the nickname was identical.

Ding Xiandi hesitated no longer. She stepped forward and grabbed You Fuling’s wrist. “Stop right there.”

Many who had already reached the doorway turned back, and even Ming Jing, who was about to return to the swordsmanship training hall, glanced over.

At the center of the crowd stood the female sword cultivator whom she had rejected just the day before.

“What’s going on?”

“Impressive, a nobody from the Fading Star Sect actually dares to confront the treasured disciple of the Refining Heaven Sect.”

“Doesn’t You Fuling need to catch her breath after every sentence? Yet today she managed to debate with the instructor. I think she’s just putting on an act.”

“She was born at the Golden Core stage, how could she be the same as the rest of us?”

All the public lectures for the disciples of the Dao Academy were held in this hall. Ding Xiandi paid no heed to the idle chatter, tightening her grip on the other’s hand and drawing closer, as if trying to complete the obscured half of the face behind the veil through sheer proximity.

Did I die in a car accident, or am I hovering between life and death?

And what about You Fuling?

For as long as Ding Xiandi could remember, the name You Fuling had been a constant presence in her life.

Their families lived at diagonal corners of the city center. Their parents moved in overlapping social circles, yet there were clear boundaries between them.

They made appearances at various events, and many considered them the most enviable only daughters.

Unlike Ding Xiandi’s parents, who had an arranged marriage, You Fuling was a child born out of love.

Even her somewhat ill-omened name had been chosen by a fortune-teller consulted by her family.

Rumor had it that, barring unforeseen disasters, You Fuling despite being half a step into the grave was destined for a long life.

Many assumed they had a strained relationship, and some had even asked Ding Xiandi outright if they had ever argued.

The truth was, they barely knew each other.

They had attended the same schools since childhood but were never in the same class.

Even when they competed in the same events, unless absolutely necessary, one of them would always skip the award ceremony.

Some had wondered if it was intentional.

It was almost an unspoken understanding born on the same day of the same year, they had been compared since birth and had grown weary of it.

Ding Xiandi had an excellent memory.

If both their lives had ended at seventeen, the number of times they had actually crossed paths wouldn’t exceed ten.

You Fuling suffered from a congenital illness and didn’t attend school regularly. Even though everyone knew she was unwell, some still joked that it was just an excuse to avoid others.

Ding Xiandi disliked such remarks. She could silence her own friends, but she couldn’t control what others said.

They had never formally spoken, never exchanged contact information. Even though they shared many mutual acquaintances, they remained the most familiar of strangers.

If the person before her was truly You Fuling, then this would be the closest they had ever been.

She had forgotten that the original host of her body bore injuries from yesterday’s swordsmanship examination, compounded by a sleepless night spent nursing the sting of rejection. Her eyes were bloodshot.

The face, which was about sixty percent less refined than Ding Xiandi’s original one, lacked gentleness and instead appeared rather fierce.

The person whose wrist she held was about the same height as her.

Due to the varying heights of the white jade steps, Ding Xiandi stood on the higher one. With her slender figure and snow-white skin, the scene looked more like Ding Xiandi looking down on her with hostility.

The disparity in their cultivation levels was obvious, and the onlookers almost wished You Fuling would slap Ding Xiandi away with a single palm.

“What do you want?”

As if deeming such a stare-down pointless, You Fuling, who had been in this world for two years, lost interest and averted her gaze.

The hands gripping her were pale but covered in cuts and scars, entirely different from the hands of the person she remembered.

Disappointed, she thought, This person merely shares Ding Xiandi’s name a fool, and blind at that, to fancy someone as dull, uninteresting, and mediocre in cultivation as Ming Jing.

If it were the Ding Xiandi I knew…

She chuckled inwardly. The average lifespan of ordinary people in this world was a hundred years, let alone cultivators.

The years since her transmigration hadn’t been long, but for You Fuling, who had once been a sickly child, they felt like an eternity.

She had wondered many times: if that steak knife hadn’t been plunged into the throat of her half-brother by blood.

Would she still be by her mother’s side?

In others’ eyes, You Fuling met every standard of a wealthy family’s heir except for her health.

In the gender-neutral battle for succession, she had won the highest position because of her parents’ true love.

Little did she know that beyond the clichéd tale of a romance spanning from school to society, bridging wealth and poverty, the ending had long been written.

Her father, who had seemed utterly devoted to her mother, had already fathered a child before their marriage.

Even if he claimed he hadn’t known at first, in the end, he succumbed to his daughter’s seemingly frail health.

He believed the family needed a backup plan, just in case.

In case You Fuling died young.

The news had long been circulating internally, and her mother became the laughingstock of their social circle.

In You Fuling’s eyes, her mother was a superwoman brilliant, radiant, and unshackled by the gilded cage of wealth.

But she deserved so much more.

That evening, the dining table was long, with her parents, grandparents, the mother of her half-brother, and the other side’s parents all present.

There was no music, only the glow of candles and lights.

You Fuling’s grandfather announced the status of the backup heir, stripping away her “just in case” label.

He declared that her “brother” would transfer to the same high school as You Fuling, and the generations-long feud with the Ding family could be settled anew.

Grandfather said, “Now the Ding family should have nothing left to say.”

You Fuling, who had thought the banquet was solely to celebrate her mother’s birthday, had gone all out with her appearance.

A snow-white dress, shoulder-length hair, and white velvet half-gloves.

Her father said, “Then let’s wish Mei Qin a happy birthday.”

No one stood by her mother’s side.

Her family was impoverished. Without this so-called love story, her mother might have lived a completely different life.

Life doesn’t rewind. You Fuling watched her mother clutch her wine glass tightly and saw the smile on the face of her half-brother’s maternal grandmother.

The other woman had long passed away, so You Fuling had no way of guessing her intentions.

At the moment when everyone raised their glasses to toast this joyless birthday, she whispered an apology to her mother.

In others’ eyes, the girl was so weak she gasped for breath climbing stairs, yet she mustered all her strength to drive the steak knife into her half-brother’s throat.

Silence, struggle, screams, curses, and the sound of high heels.

You Fuling was shoved to the ground by her father. Her long dress was stained with blood, her white gloves dyed crimson. Gasping for air, she watched her mother rush around the long table toward her.

She kept repeating “I’m sorry” in her heart.

There was no time for a handshake, no time to say more. When her vision blurred and she woke again, it was in a pitch-black cave.

You Fuling had become the genius of the major cultivation sect Refining Heaven Sect in this world of cultivation, who had been in closed-door cultivation since childhood.

A name with the same pronunciation You Fuling.

She found it bitterly ironic, the ill-omened name “Fu Ling” (bearing the coffin) should have been for her to send off her scumbag father in his funeral, yet she herself had succumbed to a congenital defect.

This world was peculiar.

There were flying ships, neon lights more extravagant than in her original world, and her sect was located in the most prosperous continent of the Glazed Light Realm.

As a genius born with a Golden Core, after enduring the heavenly tribulation, You Fuling’s cultivation advanced even further upon leaving seclusion, granting her greater authority and more choices.

She was sent to the Boundless Island, said to be more suitable for her constitution’s cultivation, where the renowned Tianji Dao Academy of the cultivation world was located.

On the day of her enrollment, You Fuling heard a familiar name.

Ding Xiandi.

Her healthy, intact heart beat violently, but it was accompanied by immense disappointment.

In this world, Ding Xiandi’s cultivation was pitifully low, and her appearance was only a quarter as striking as the Ding Xiandi she knew, with freckles scattered across her face like an overgenerous sprinkling of sesame seeds.

She was usually poor and stingy, withdrawn and gloomy, disliked by everyone.

Her taste wasn’t great either she admired Ming Jing, the head senior disciple of the Fallen Moon Sect.

This was originally an unknown secret crush, but someone spread it around, and Ming Jing, deeply troubled by it, chose to sternly reject her.

You Fuling despised Ding Xiandi.

Not because of her background, nor her cultivation level, but because of her vacant eyes, like a soulless puppet.

So why had her eyes changed now?

The person before her only resembled Ding Xiandi in those eyes the same eyes You Fuling had seen in her dreams.

The person confronting her didn’t release her grip, nor did she answer. Instead, in front of everyone, she reached out to lift the other’s veil.

The once-in-a-century worst student of the Sword Cultivation Department tilted her head slightly.

“Is it you? Coffin-bearing girl.”

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