Rebirth of the Medical Maiden

Lin Wanqing jolted awake to a stench that could knock out a bear. She blinked, finding herself sprawled on damp straw in a dilapidated shed—peeling walls, sagging beams, and a moldy reek thick in the air. She tried lifting her hand, only to see a chubby paw caked with black grime under the nails, like she'd crawled out of a swamp.

"What the heck is this dump?" she muttered. Then, a flood of alien memories crashed into her mind like a blockbuster reel.

She, Lin Wanqing, modern medicine's superstar and cosmetic surgery queen, had perished in a lab explosion, reduced to ashes. Now, she'd transmigrated into ancient times as the Lin family's eldest daughter—a chubby, hideous, dim-witted laughingstock.

Suppressing the absurdity, she pieced together her new life: dead mom, cold dad, a venomous stepmom, and a stepsister, Lin Xue'er, who treated her like a punching bag. Yesterday, Xue'er had shoved her into a stinking ditch, nearly drowning her, then dumped her here to rot.

"What a trainwreck," Lin Wanqing chuckled, eyes glinting. "But I'm here now—time to flip the script!"

Struggling up, dizziness hit like a sledgehammer. She stumbled to a chipped bronze mirror and nearly laughed—pockmarked face, waxy skin, squashed features, and a body like a watermelon.

"This face could scare off ghosts!" she quipped, unshaken. Fixing looks? Child's play for a pro like her. She was already plotting: detox baths, acupuncture shaping, herbal masks—she'd transform in no time.

Then, shrill cackling pierced the silence.

"Still alive, fat pig?" Lin Xue'er's voice stabbed the air as she sashayed in, trailed by snickering maids.

Xue'er, dazzling in pink silk, was a stark contrast to Lin Wanqing's mess. "Sister, you'd clog the streets with that girth!" she sneered.

The maids roared. Lin Wanqing ignored them, thinking: Laugh it up—your fall's gonna be epic.

"Got a problem?" Xue'er taunted, reaching to shove her. "A moron daring to act tough?"

Lin Wanqing dodged, grabbing her wrist and twisting lightly. Xue'er yelped, nearly eating dirt. "Xue'er, face hurting lately? Dreaming of dung pits?" Lin Wanqing asked coolly.

Xue'er froze, panic flashing. "What nonsense?"

Lin Wanqing locked eyes, pressing, "Bet you see sores all over, begging with no rescue."

Xue'er's pupils shrank, stumbling back, fear flickering. She gritted her teeth, faking calm. "A fool playing mystic? Pathetic!"

She stormed off, spitting, "Wait for tomorrow's banquet—I'll make you a fool in front of everyone!"

Lin Wanqing smirked. Banquet? Showtime. She mused: Xue'er, you schemed to dump this marriage on me, clueless it's my ticket to flip fate.

She knew the Lin-Zhao betrothal was originally Xue'er's. Their dad, Old Master Lin, favored Xue'er, planning her match with the famed General Zhao Xuan to boost the family. But Zhao's glory ruffled the Emperor, and Xue'er, catching wind of his disfavor, begged to swap the groom to Lin Wanqing, hoping the "loser" would sink with him. Old Master Lin, who loathed his eldest, agreed without a blink, leaving Xue'er smug—until now.

A maid burst in, wailing, "Miss, Young Master's collapsed! Doctors say he's done!"

Lin Wanqing tensed. Her half-brother Lin Yichen—honest, never cruel to her. "Lead on!"

In his room, Yichen lay ghost-pale, barely breathing. Doctors muttered gloomily.

"Pulse's chaos—he won't last the night," one sighed.

Lin Wanqing checked his pulse—severe poisoning, heart failing. "Silver needles, hot water, cloths—now!"

"Miss, what're you doing?" Xiao Cui gawked.

"Saving him—move!" Lin Wanqing snapped.

Needles flashed, hitting key points like a pro, unblocking meridians. She wiped him with steaming cloths, purging toxins—moves slick as a dance, pure surgical swagger.

Half an incense stick later, Yichen stirred. "Sis… you saved me?"

"Rest, dummy," Lin Wanqing grinned, wiping sweat.

"You know medicine?" Xiao Cui's jaw dropped.

Before replying, she spotted Xue'er at the door, face sour as a lemon.

"Xue'er, brother's fine—why so glum?" Lin Wanqing teased.

Xue'er glared, bolting. Lin Wanqing's eyes narrowed: She's hiding something.

Her jade pendant blazed, purple mist swirling. A voice boomed: "I am Hua Tuo, granting 'Medical Soul Realm' and 'Wheel of Fate'—master medicine, bend destiny!"

Her mind exploded with arcane arts—illusion crafting, fate twisting. Heat surged; fat melted, skin glowed, features sharpened into goddess-tier beauty.

Eyes opening, a purple flash showed Xue'er's fate: tomorrow, sores erupting, mocked to tears at the banquet.

"Nice." With a flick, Lin Wanqing spun the Wheel, adding extra "flair" to Xue'er's doom.

"Who's there?" A deep voice cut in. The door swung open, revealing General Zhao Xuan—sharp, icy, and built like a tank.

He frowned. "Who are you?"

High on new powers, Lin Wanqing mistook him for a threat. Grabbing a stick, she swung: "Back off, jerk!" It cracked his forehead. He stumbled, a welt rising.

"Madwoman!" Zhao Xuan clutched his head, livid.

She blinked, dropping it. "Oops, my bad! Want a bun as sorry?"

He glared, then froze—her beauty was unreal, nothing like the rumors.

"You're Lin Wanqing?" he asked, skeptical.

She beamed. "General Zhao, hi! That whack was my VIP hello—solid, right?"

His lip twitched, frost thawing. "You're nuts."

"I fix nuts too!" She leaned in, winking. "Need a head rub?"

He stiffened, ears pink. "Get lost!"

She glanced—the Wheel showed them storming a tomb, romance blooming. Blushing, she thought: This power rocks!

(End of Chapter)