Rebirth as a Wind Cultivator

Li Mei trudged down the neon-lit street, her feet aching from eight hours of retail hell. The familiar green and orange sign of a 7/11 store beckoned through the smog-tinged evening air. Inside, fluorescent lights hummed as she grabbed a cup of instant ramen and a package of cookies—the dinner of champions.

The walk to her apartment building took her past a series of overflowing dumpsters and graffiti-covered walls. A tower of garbage bags teetered precariously near the entrance steps. She sidestepped just as a bag slumped sideways, spilling rotting vegetables onto the concrete.

"Thanks for the cleanup, Jerry," she muttered. The landlord was supposed to take care of things, but he was perpetually absent. No surprise there.

She didn’t have the energy to deal with it, so she hurried upward. The sounds of city life pulsed—screeching tires, blaring horns, and the yowls of alley cats fighting over territory. Through paper-thin walls came the nightly song of her neighbors before she even made it inside.

"You never listen!" screamed 4B, while 4D’s bass-heavy music thumped in counterpoint.

Li Mei hurried to unlock her apartment door and escape inside. Even if the walls weren’t soundproof, it was quieter.

A clean lavender scent welcomed her home.

At least here she maintained control, even if her life had spiraled elsewhere. The Art History degree hanging in the entrance hall mocked her daily—a $60,000 piece of paper leading to a dead-end retail job. The student loan statements arrived monthly, their numbers suggesting she’d be paying until retirement.

A hum sounded from the microwave as she nuked her ramen. After a quick shower to wash away the day’s frustrations, she settled into her worn office chair. The laptop screen illuminated her face.

Gaming night beckoned! Tomorrow was one of those rare days off and she’d be able to sleep in.

She double-clicked the Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles icon and a familiar loading screen materialized with its swirling phoenix emblem. The microwave’s unhappy reminder beep interrupted her anticipation.

"Right. Food."

She left the character select screen displaying her carefully selected and built characters.

A minute later, the kitchen counter held her steaming cup of ramen, but there was a problem. She’d forgotten to buy something to drink. A quick check of the fridge confirmed it: nothing but an ancient bottle of soy sauce and half an onion.

The vending machine across the street beckoned through her fourth-floor window. Its LED display cut through the evening haze like a commercial lighthouse.

Li Mei grabbed her wallet from the coffee table, stuffing it into her jacket pocket with a curse. It’d cost twice as much, but there was no way in hell she was walking all the way back to the stupid convenience store.

The stairs creaked under her feet as she descended while street-level sodium lights cast the ignored trash in a sickly orange glow. She stepped off the sidewalk and began to cross the street, fishing out her wallet. The vending machine’s prices glowed in red LED numbers.

A flash of white light swept across the pavement. The screech of tires filled her ears.

The Mitsubishi Fuso’s chrome grill consumed her field of vision. Impact.

Darkness.

"In every world, there exists a moment when one must choose between bowing to fate or punching it in the face. Choose wisely."

—Lady Tsu Pi, Scrolls of the Jade Mountain

Pain throbbed through her skull in waves of agony. Fractured thoughts swirled like autumn leaves caught in a storm.

A boyish voice pierced through the haze. "Sister Xiulan! Please wake up!"

The desperate cry echoed strangely, both foreign and achingly familiar. She reached up, fingertips meeting warm wetness matted in her hair. The touch sent lightning bolts of pain through her head.

"Ah!" A sharp hiss escaped through clenched teeth.

"Sister Xiulan?" The voice shifted from despair to tentative hope.

Li Mei tried to push herself upright. The world tilted and spun in nauseating circles.

"Don’t move! Captain Bai went to fetch help. You’re hurt badly!"

The boy’s face swam into focus—delicate features, wide eyes brimming with tears, silk robes covered in dirt, branches and her blood. Lin Zhang Wei. My little brother. The knowledge crashed into her consciousness like a thunderbolt.

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"What... what’s happening?" The words tumbled out thick and clumsy. How do I know him? Where am I?

"The carriage axle snapped." Zhang Wei pointed upward. "We fell when it tipped."

Through double vision, she tracked his gesture. A steep embankment rose above them, dense with cypress trees. Twenty feet up, a lacquered carriage lay crushed between two massive trunks, its door hanging askew. Higher still, a body draped grotesquely over a thick branch, dark liquid dripping steadily onto the leaves below.

There was no sign of the horses.

Shouts echoed from above through the branches. "The young master went down there after her! Hurry!"

A cold shiver ran down her spine. The words carried more concern for Zhang Wei than for her injuries.

These people don’t care if I live or die. The thought caught her off-guard.

Zhang Wei clutched her arm tightly, pressing his face against the silk sleeve of her robe. Without thinking, she reached out and patted his head. The gesture felt natural, filled with an inexplicable warmth despite her confusion.

Why do I feel such affection for this child I’ve never met?

"Sister Xiulan, are you going to be okay? Does it hurt?" Zhang Wei’s eyes glistened with fresh tears.

"Of course it fucking hurts." The modern curse slipped out before she could stop it. "Who is Xiulan?"

Zhang Wei jerked back, staring at her with wide eyes. "But... you’re Second Sister Lin Xiulan!"

She pressed her palm against her throbbing temple. The last clear memory blazed through her mind—headlights, screeching tires, the cold pavement. Now she sat at the bottom of a mountain path beside an ornate wooden carriage that belonged in a period drama.

What is happening to me? One minute I’m being run down in the street, the next I’m in some ancient Chinese setting?

"You’re bleeding!" Zhang Wei tugged at his silk sleeve until the fabric tore with a sharp rip. He folded the material into a makeshift bandage and pressed it against her head.

She attempted to push herself up onto shaky legs again, but the world spun violently, trees and sky blending into a nauseating whirl.

"No! Please stay down." Zhang Wei guided her back to the ground, cradling her head in his lap.

Sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting dappled shadows across her face. Birds called to each other in melodic trills. The rustle of wind through cypress needles mixed with the distant crash of a mountain stream.

How can I be Xiulan? I’m Li Mei. Just Li Mei. She touched the tender spot on her forehead where blood matted her hair. Unless... unless Xiulan died when she hit her head. Just like I died when that truck...

This is ridiculous. Like some cheap isekai plot device. But then why does everything feel so real?

"Help! Down here!" Zhang Wei’s shout echoed off the mountainside. "Sister is hurt!"

The sound of boots sliding on loose earth grew closer as men descended the steep bank.

She stared at Zhang Wei’s worried face. He’s right though. I am Xiulan. Lin Xiulan. The knowledge settled into place like puzzle pieces clicking together. My brother Zhang Wei. Mother Lin Zhao Lian. Father Lord Lin Tian. First-born daughter of the third concubine.

The most hated daughter in the Lin family.

The realization jolted through her system. She pushed herself upright despite Zhang Wei’s protests.

"I’m fine." She steadied herself with one hand on the ground.

"Young Master Wei!" The guards reached the bottom of the embankment, rushing toward them.

"You must help Sister Xiulan first!" Zhang Wei planted himself between the guards and the steep embankment. "She’s injured! I’m fine."

Xiulan grabbed a low-hanging branch to steady herself. The unfamiliar weight of layered silk robes tangled around her legs as she attempted to stand. Her foot caught in the hem, sending her stumbling forward.

"Careful, Miss Lin." A guard steadied her arm.

Above them, ropes snaked down the embankment. Two guards lashed together branches and strips of wood torn from the wrecked carriage, creating a crude seat.

"Young Master Wei must ascend first," announced the lead guard.

Zhang Wei tensed. "No! Sister Xiulan—"

"It’s fine." Xiulan squeezed his hand. "Go up. I’ll follow right after."

Zhang Wei’s bottom lip trembled, but he allowed the guards to secure the rope around his waist. The makeshift seat creaked as they lifted him skyward.

Once he disappeared over the ridge, the guards turned to her. She grunted as they cinched the rope tight around her waist. The wooden seat dug into her thighs through the silk layers.

"Ready below!" A voice called up.

The ascent jerked and swayed. Branches scratched at her arms. The embankment’s loose soil crumbled beneath the seat with each bump. Her head throbbed in protest at the jolting movement.

But she made it, only to crest the ridge into organized chaos.

A line of ornate carriages stretched along the mountain path. Guards in matching uniforms moved between supply wagons. Servants rushed back and forth, carrying bundles and boxes.

Memory struck like lightning. They were headed to the county capital for Madam Zhang’s birthday celebration. The woman had replaced Xiulan’s mother after bearing Lord Lin multiple children.

The very woman who viewed Xiulan as nothing more than a reminder of her mother’s fall from grace.

The crashed carriage had delayed the entire convoy. Xiulan steadied herself against a cypress tree as a guard unclasped the rope harness.

"Wait here. The physician should be here soon." The guard strode away without a backward glance.

The mountain path bustled with activity, yet no one offered her a place to sit. Zhang Wei had vanished. Blood trickled down her temple, each throb bringing waves of disorientation. The unfamiliar weight of silk robes dragged at her shoulders.

Carved wooden wheels creaked against stone. Two women emerged from a nearby carriage, their emerald and sapphire robes catching the filtered sunlight.

Her sisters—Lin Qian, Lin Fei. Not friends.

They approached with measured steps. Fei’s laughter cut through the mountain air. "Look, Sister Qian! Her robes finally match her status."

Xiulan glanced down. Dirt and grass stains marred the once-pristine silk. Tears exposed the lighter underlayers and blood droplets dotted the fabric like crimson flowers.

"I hit my head, but I think I’m okay." The words came out uncertain, the sentiment caught between two lives.

Qian’s painted lips curled. "How do you plan to make up for delaying Mother’s celebration?"

"What?" Xiulan blinked. How was this her fault? The accusation made no sense. The carriage had plummeted off a cliff. She wasn’t the driver.

"Kneel and kowtow six times." Fei lifted her chin. "Perhaps then we’ll forgive you."

"It’s not my fault." Xiulan pressed her palm against her throbbing temple. "I hit my head and I need to rest. Please leave me alone."

Surprise flickered across Qian’s features.

Fei’s face flushed red. She stepped forward like a snake and the slap cracked against Xiulan’s cheek.

"Sister Xiulan!" Zhang Wei’s horrified shout pierced the air.

Years of retail rage bubbled up, along with a sea of hazy grievances and Xiulan’s fist connected with Fei’s nose.

Cartilage crunched, and her sister crashed to the ground with a piercing shriek.

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