Although Ye Qianying had exploited a loophole in the rules, the system had to acknowledge her submitted answer as per procedure. Even so, the learning system couldn’t help but remind her, "Host, next time I issue a task, I’ll have to set some prerequisites."
Ye Qianying chuckled at this. "Go ahead, set them."
Surprised by her easy compliance, the system’s voice turned suspicious. "Have you found another rule to exploit?"
"No," Ye Qianying replied, closing her eyes and leaning back into her wheelchair. "This time, it’s my fault. I was just... too impatient."
She was too eager to experience those 60 seconds of freedom, too desperate to verify the system’s promise—she couldn’t wait a moment longer.
Ten years. For ten long years, she had lost her legs and her beauty.
Even with all her wealth, even as the heiress to a fortune, it was only when she lost her health that she truly understood what she had been deprived of—something innate, something irreplaceable.
She still had wealth, still belonged to the prestigious Ye Family. Their power remained unshaken even at her death, their finances never in the red.
Yet, Ye Qianying’s life had been irrevocably divided at the age of fifteen, split into two starkly contrasting halves—like day and night.
The once-proud young lady, now confined to a wheelchair, realized for the first time that she didn’t truly own the world.
She could hide behind sunglasses and veils, but she couldn’t escape the stares—pity, curiosity, malice, schadenfreude...
She could ride in luxury cars, surrounded by nurses and bodyguards, but she could never take a single step forward on her own two legs again.
Even as the Ye Family’s youngest daughter, in everyone’s eyes, she was no longer normal.
Disfigured. Disabled.
Those two "neutral adjectives" from the dictionary stung like thorns, labels she could never peel off.
The system fell silent, offering no further reproach. Instead, it said gently, "I’m about to activate the experience function for you, Host. Please ensure you’re in a private space."
The nurse brought Ye Qianying a vanity mirror as instructed, then quietly left the room.
The moment the door closed, Ye Qianying tore off the bandages covering her face.
Her emotions surged, blood rushing to her cheeks, pounding in her ears so loudly she barely heard the system’s countdown.
In the blink of an eye, a miracle unfolded.
The mirror reflected a face she hadn’t seen in years—her own, untouched by tragedy. Inherited from her actress mother, yet even more radiant in its youthful bloom.
Her skin was flawless, porcelain-smooth, the envy of every girl. Youth brimmed in every feature, her cheeks plump with collagen, needing no makeup to enhance them.
Most striking were her phoenix-like eyes—sharp as ink strokes, their outer corners sweeping upward like wings, framed by long, curled lashes. Even before reaching their full maturity, they carried an undeniable, commanding allure.
Ye Qianying stared, unblinking.
Was this really her?
Ten years ago, had she looked like this?
So beautiful. No scars, no burns, no melted, distorted skin.
Just smooth, supple, vibrant—like any carefree girl in the world.
Tears splashed onto the mirror before she even realized she was crying.
"Host," the system murmured softly, as if afraid to startle her, "Would you like to test your legs now?"
Ye Qianying looked up, jolted from her daze.
Yes. Of course.
She stood eagerly, at first leaning on the wheelchair for support. Her first steps were clumsy, wobbling like a swimmer thrust into water after a decade.
But soon, her strides grew steadier, faster. She paced the room, even leaped lightly—
Would the nurse hear? Would someone burst in, gaping in shock?
She didn’t care. She spun, stamped her feet, slapped her thighs—none of it mattered. She was walking!
Watching her, the system hesitated before delivering the inevitable.
"Host, time’s almost up."
"...Okay." Yet Ye Qianying made no move to return to the wheelchair.
Three seconds later, her legs gave way. She collapsed onto the thick carpet with a dull thud.
"Host!"
Ye Qianying looked up, her face once again marred, tear-streaked—yet she was smiling.
"Don’t worry," she whispered, her voice feather-light. "I just wanted to fall like that."
The nurse nearly had a heart attack, convinced she’d be fired.
But Ye Qianying soothed her, swore secrecy, let her rewrap the bandages, and even gifted her a box of chocolates from the bedside stash.
Once alone, the system, assured of her calmness, made an offer.
"Host, given your situation... we can offer a complimentary beauty-related lottery draw."
Ye Qianying’s fingers paused mid-tap on the armrest. "Beauty lottery? What’s included?"
"Many options—‘Skin Like Jade,’ ‘Graceful Proportions,’ ‘Luminous Eyes,’ ‘Ethereal Elegance.’ There are even limited editions like ‘Beauty That Drowns Fish and Fells Geese,’ ‘Peerless Charisma’..."
Amid the list, Ye Qianying zeroed in on two.
"You said ‘Skin Like Jade’ and ‘Graceful Proportions’?"
"Yes, they’re possible prizes. But it’s a blind draw—no rigging."
Without hesitation, she decided. "Then let’s do it now."
A delicate crystal lottery box materialized before her. She reached out, her fingers brushing something between real and unreal.
The lid of the blind box lifted gently, revealing its contents. Ye Qianying silently prayed in her heart: she didn’t need a limited edition—just something that could benefit her injuries would suffice...
Yet, when she saw the final result she had drawn, Ye Qianying didn’t even know what expression to make.
Ye Qianying: "..."
This beauty enhancement item...
"Do you think hair is insignificant? Then you are mistaken. Those who have never gazed directly at the sun have no right to judge its brilliance, and those who have never seen truly beautiful locks cannot comment on silken tresses. ‘Cloud-like strands rival the deepest indigo, a wisp of fragrance descending from the moon.’ When your hair grows to your waist, you will be the brightest star in the crowd—this is the description of ‘Silken Waterfall.’"
The system recited the entire passage in one breath: "The reward has been issued in real time. Are you satisfied, Host?"
Ye Qianying... Ye Qianying was very dissatisfied.
"...Why is it like this?"
The system thought for a moment, then comforted her: "Host, this result isn’t so bad. After all, the effects of the prize box are binary—either 1 or 0—and cannot manifest gradually on your body. If you had drawn ‘Skin Like Jade,’ explaining it would have been troublesome."
Ye Qianying’s voice lowered slightly: "Then, is explaining the origin of ‘Silken Waterfall’ any less troublesome?"
"Well, for most people, changes in hair texture aren’t as noticeable as changes in appearance..."
"Are you joking with me?" Ye Qianying gritted her teeth.
Apart from the 60 seconds when she regained her health, the system had never seen its host so unsettled.
Even when she realized she had come back from the dead, Ye Qianying had only been surprised for a short while. She ignored the system in her mind for three whole days to confirm the reality of the world and gather more information.
But... how to put it... the system truly understood its host’s frustration.
After all...
"I shaved my head for treatment."
Ye Qianying spoke word by word: "If my facial skin recovered, I could cover it with bandages, and no one would notice. But if my hair suddenly grew out, all the way to my waist, would everyone else be blind?"
Her disbelief was practically overflowing: "Even if you gave me beautiful hair, I’d still have to shave it to avoid suspicion. What’s the difference between giving a blind person colored contacts or a cripple a pair of stilts?"
The system: "..."
The host’s logic was so sound that it had no rebuttal.
"Never mind, it’s just bad luck." Ye Qianying sighed lightly and turned her wheelchair toward the bed. "I’ll wear a sleeping cap first, then ask someone to bring me a hair clipper."
As she spoke, she casually grabbed a handful of the hair that had fallen over her shoulder.
And that single touch completely took her by surprise.
The glossy, jet-black strands cascaded smoothly over her shoulders, sleek as water without a single split end. Though the hair reached her waist, running her fingers through it felt like a single, seamless stroke—so silky it was like giving her fingers a spa treatment.
The kind of effect seen in TV commercials, achieved only through special effects and lighting, now miraculously belonged to Ye Qianying.
She held her hair, marveling at how impossibly soft it was—so much so that she couldn’t bring herself to let go.
For the first time in her life, Ye Qianying realized that the phrase "hair like satin" wasn’t a metaphor but a literal description.
"Host... weren’t you going to cut your hair?"
Ye Qianying snapped out of her daze, tossing her head proudly and letting the waterfall of dark tresses spill down her back.
"I’m not cutting it," she declared coolly, raising an eyebrow. "I’ll just tell them it’s a new wig."
The system: "..."
Host, thy name is Instant Regret.
Ye Qianying wheeled herself to the window, using the glass pane to admire her new hair from different angles.
As she curiously played with a strand, the system suddenly alerted her.
"Host, someone is approaching the sanatorium. He’s wearing a school uniform—is he your classmate?"
Ye Qianying glanced down, and a boy’s figure came into view.
His silhouette felt both unfamiliar from how long it had been and achingly familiar from how deeply it was etched in her memory.
Of course she remembered him—how he had once whispered cruel remarks about her with another girl, their voices seeping through the door into her ears.
"A rotting, pus-dripping cripple..."
That venomous comment had nearly shattered her younger self, driving her to leave the country to continue her studies.
"Him? You could say he’s a classmate," Ye Qianying said flatly, propping her chin on her hand. "A boy from the class next to mine in high school... and also someone I liked before I lost my sight."
The learning system’s electronic voice sounded utterly shocked.
"After scanning, the system confirms your vision is excellent—left eye 4.7, right eye 4.8, with no myopia, hyperopia, astigmatism, or eyeball deformation. Rest assured, you have no vision problems."
Ye Qianying smirked coldly. "You’re wrong. Having feelings for someone like that—what’s the difference from being blind?"
The learning system: "..."
Soon, footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Visitors needed appointments to enter this sanatorium, but Ye Qianying faintly recalled instructing the front desk to let this boy in without question—a privilege originally reserved for her parents and older brother.
Ten years ago, at her most vulnerable, she had genuinely liked him.
—If you asked why she was so thoughtful now, it was because she’d been blind early in life.
...
When Qi Yuanwen stepped into the room, the first thing he saw was the figure in the wheelchair.
Though he already knew the general state of Ye Qianying’s condition, his gaze wasn’t drawn to the wheelchair.
Instead, his attention was entirely captured by the long, straight, ink-black hair cascading like smoke or willow branches down to her waist.
