Power Up, Artist Yang!

During the time that Hui'er was gone, bringing hangover soup from the kitchens, Yujia was miserably lying on the bed, silently pondering the point of her existence.

Her life was terrible back in the 'modern' world, where ever after she graduated from college, there was practically no way for her to find a stable job and pay off her student loans with the stupid art degree she worked so hard to get. People were all looking for graphic and digital artists— not oil painters like her. Yujia's parents decided to let her attempt to support herself and self-live, self-destruct, so there was even less of an option to rely on her parents for money. Long nights of drinking alcohol became Yujia's sole hobby, her art skills becoming rusty because of her lack of interest to pursue her career when nothing good came out of it.

Now that she officially considered herself a transmigrator— proven that this entire thing wasn't just her going insane and trapping herself in a make-believe world— Yujia needed to figure out a plan. Transmigrators, based on her 'experience', had to have some sort of secret 'cheat' that supported them. Was the past owner of this body a beloved character? Or betrothed to some other wealthy, young, and handsome young master? Or even better, betrothed to a prince or a king or… the emperor?

Sadly, Yujia definitely could not consider herself as an assassin or a doctor. Both of those careers seemed to be the most helpful in this ancient-styled world. Yet again, Yujia begins hating herself for picking such an idiotic career to follow.

An Artist.

'Why, past me? Why did you pick being an artist out of all those helpful paths? What's the point of knowing how to draw? Is it supposed to help with survival? Do they… even have oil and acrylic paints in this world? Pastels? Pencils?'

Why did Yujia even transmigrate in the first place? From her intense session of thinking, she could only remember drinking after a high school reunion. Surely simply drinking wouldn't get her transmigrated. If that was the case, she would've done so months and months ago.

A flicker of a memory flashes through Yujia's mind.

It is only a brief image, but in the split second, Yujia remembers an awful bottle of orange acrylic. And lots and lots and lots of paint. In her drunken foolishness, did Yang Yujia drink… a bottle of paint while thinking that it was beer?

The truth dawns on her, making Yujia want to smack herself at her stupidity.

'Oh well. What is done is done. Now, let me figure how to navigate this place without dying, at least.'

'Not-to-die' had to be a good goal. However dangerous this place may be, it was certainly better than her dire situation back in her cramped rent-unpaid apartment back in the 'modern' world. Still, Yujia didn't know for sure if this dynasty— considering that the Xiang Dynasty never existed in Chinese history and this was likely to be a different world— was filled with martial artists or cultivators. That, she supposed, she had to discover on her own. For now, perhaps it would be better to lie low and figure out how things worked in this world before doing anything risky, such as declaring her love for Prince So-and-So and becoming the Crown Princess of the country— something that Yujia saw frequently in romance novels but didn't likely seem to be realistic.

In the midst of her thoughts, Yujia swiftly pushed herself up off the bed and stood, deciding that now was a good moment to explore the room. However, she barely managed to even stand up an inch before teetering to the side of her bed, her head spinning.

Right.

Yujia forgot about the idiotic hangover that somehow came over with her to this world.

Gripping tightly to the bed frame, Yujia forced herself to stand. Her bare feet were cold against the wooden floors. Except, before she could walk a single step, someone walked in, causing Yujia to stop and look up, observing who it was.

The girl who just walked in the room was not Hui'er— that was for sure. Compared to the simple white sleeping robes Yujia noticed she had on, the girl was wearing a brighter, more vibrant peach, a color quite pretty and suiting to the soft glow of the other girl's milky white skin. She was charming and attractive, in a way, not quite as beautiful as the cold, goddess-style image Yujia saw in the mirror of herself, but pretty enough with the smile she had on her face and her large, round eyes.

Seeing her cheerful attitude, Yujia instinctively lowered her guard, sitting back down on her bed to give her irritating headache some relief and peace.

As the girl walked over, she politely gave a half-bow, grinning at Yujia. "Big sister, morning! Are you feeling well?"

Sister? So that was their relationship? Yujia's lips curled upward, and she nodded. "I am doing fine. Thank you for your concern."

"Ah, hearing that, Xiaoyi is assured." The girl, Xiaoyi, referred to herself in third person, giving Yujia a brief moment of happiness upon learning that there would be no awkward moment of silence where Yujia had to figure out the name of her supposed little sister.

Xiaoyi continued, her smile still on her face as she sat down next to Yujia, clasping Yujia's hands. "Big sister, I heard last night that father set your betrothal to the Yu family. I am sorry for you."

"What?" Yujia blinked. So, she was betrothed to someone, like most female protagonists. Well then, what was there for Xiaoyi to claim that she was 'sorry' for? Wasn't that a good thing? She was about to be married to some handsome, wealthy suitor, where they would grow old together and have adorable children together, and fulfil her dreams of a happy, peaceful life…

Even so, Yujia felt the need for clarification. "What for?"

With a frown, Xiaoyi tightened her grasp on Yujia's hands. "Isn't it clearly known that the Yu family's old master already has two wives and three concubines? Big sister, how could I not feel sorry for you? That man is old enough to be your father!"

Yujia's face paled.

'Old enough to be your father…'

'Old enough to be your father…'

'Old. Enough. To. Be. Your. Father.'

Yujia felt like crying. The novels were lies! All lies! Why would they write about handsome young masters and heart-warming, soft, blooming romances? Perhaps Yujia did have high expectations, but she didn't expect them to turn out to be this… low!

What was this tyranny?