Transmigrated as a Waste

It felt as if someone had grabbed her heart and given it a brutal twist.

Ye Qingya's hand slipped off the keyboard, knocking over the coffee cup on the desk. The dark brown liquid spilled across the report sheets, dripped down the desktop, and soaked into the cuffs of her faded white shirt.

She wanted to curse.

Thirty-six hours of consecutive overtime, the client's seventeenth round of revision requests, and the project manager @mentioned her in the group chat, saying, "Xiao Ye, you've worked hard. This proposal needs to be submitted tomorrow morning." She replied, "Got it." Then a pain struck her chest, and her vision went black.

Through the gap in her cubicle partition, she could see the feet of a colleague across the way still swinging under the desk.

"Hey..." she opened her mouth.

No one heard her.

The fluorescent lights in the office hummed. The cold air from the air conditioner hit the back of her neck. She slumped over the keyboard, her face pressing down on the space bar, filling the screen with a long string of "fffffffff."

She thought, if someone found her dead at her desk tomorrow, their first reaction would probably be—did she finish that proposal or not?

Then there was nothing.

When she woke up again, Ye Qingya thought she was in a hospital.

The air was thick with the smell of medicine—bitter and astringent. It didn't have the sterile scent of Western medicine's disinfectant; instead, it smelled like... Chinese medicine? No, it was stranger than that. It smelled like the ash left behind after something had been burned.

She opened her eyes.

Above her head was a wooden beam, carved with patterns, most of the paint already peeling off. On the wall hung an ink painting of a massive beast among mountain ranges, its mouth wide open as if it were about to swallow half the sky.

Ye Qingya blinked.

Something was wrong.

She pushed herself up and sat up, realizing she was lying on a hard wooden bed, covered with a thin quilt made of plain coarse fabric, washed so many times it had started pilling. Her hands—she looked down at them—were slender and fair, with calluses on her fingertips, but not the kind she'd gotten from typing on a keyboard.

These hands were smaller, with finer knuckles, like those of someone who had been malnourished for a long time but was still impossibly young.

"I..."

The door was pushed open from outside.

A young maidservant in green coarse-cloth clothes walked in carrying a bowl of medicine. Seeing Ye Qingya sitting up, her eyes lit up. "Third Miss! You're awake?"

Third Miss?

A loud buzz filled Ye Qingya's head, as if something was being forcibly stuffed into her mind—not quite memories, more like a vague, fragmented perception. She knew her name was Ye Qingya, the third daughter of the Ye Clan. She knew her mother had died young, her father had remarried, and after Madam Liu had been promoted to the position of main wife, she had become nothing more than a superfluous shadow in the Ye Clan. She knew she had been born with blocked Spirit Veins, unable to practice Beast Taming—in a family that revered Beast Taming above all else, that made her a waste.

She knew that the original owner had fainted yesterday while being punished to kneel in the ancestral hall—kneeling for a full four hours on the stone slabs, and when she got up, she had a high fever.

Then the original soul had quietly slipped away, without a sound.

Ye Qingya closed her eyes.

Alright. She understood. Transmigration. She'd read about this kind of thing eight hundred times in web novels, but she never thought she'd experience it herself one day.

"Third Miss, you should take your medicine now." The little maidservant handed over the bowl, her voice timid. "Madam Liu said that if you don't get better soon, about tomorrow's... tomorrow's matter..."

The maidservant couldn't finish. Her eyes reddened.

Ye Qingya took the medicine bowl. The bitter smell hit her nose directly. She drank it all in one gulp, her face scrunching up from the bitterness.

"What about tomorrow?"

The maidservant bit her lip. "Third Miss, have you forgotten? The marriage alliance matter... the Demon Realm sent a betrothal decree, and the Master has already agreed..."

Ye Qingya set down the medicine bowl and slowly processed this information.

Marriage alliance. Demon Realm. Betrothal decree.

Among the fragmented memories of the original owner, she found the relevant part—the Ye Clan was one of the Four Great Beast-Taming Families of the Great Liang Dynasty, having tamed spirit beasts for the imperial court for generations. As for the Demon Realm, it was the territory of the Demon clan on the other side of the continent, ruled over by the Demon Emperor. A fragile peace existed between the human race and the Demon race, and marriage alliances were one of the means to maintain that peace.

This time, the Demon Realm had sent a betrothal decree, seeking to marry the legitimate daughter of the Ye Clan.

"Shouldn't Eldest Sister be the one going?" Ye Qingya asked.

The maidservant lowered her head. "Madam Liu said... the Eldest Miss's constitution is too weak to endure the journey. Third Miss... you... anyway..."

Anyway, she was a waste. Anyway, if she went, she'd never come back. Anyway, if she died, no one would care.

Ye Qingya said nothing.

She threw off the covers and got out of bed, her bare feet touching the cold floor. The chill shot up from the soles of her feet straight to the top of her head. She walked to the door and pushed it open.

Outside was a cramped little yard, with a few crooked trees growing in the corners, broken bricks paving the ground, and weeds sprouting from the cracks between them. Across the yard stood a high wall. Beyond that wall was the main compound of the Ye Clan—carved beams, painted rafters, and upturned eaves. Through the wall, she could vaguely make out people moving about in that yard, maids and servants bustling back and forth, lively as if it were another world altogether.

On her side, she didn't even have a full-grown maidservant to attend to her—just a half-grown girl.

"I know this plot," she muttered under her breath.

The maidservant stood behind her and didn't catch it. "Third Miss?"

"Nothing." Ye Qingya turned around. "What's your name?"

"This servant is called Cuiwei."

"Cuiwei." Ye Qingya nodded. "Tell me more about this marriage alliance."

Cuiwei gritted her teeth, as if she had made some kind of decision. "Third Miss, the betrothal decree from the Demon Realm was specifically addressed to the legitimate daughter of the Ye Clan. But Madam Liu... Madam Liu told the Master that you are also a daughter of the Ye Clan, that legitimate or concubine-born, you're both of Ye blood, so it wouldn't matter who went. The Master... the Master agreed."

"And what about the Demon Realm side? Would they accept the substitution?"

"The betrothal decree..." Cuiwei hesitated. "The betrothal decree was written for the 'Third Miss of the Ye Clan.'"

Ye Qingya was stunned.

"What did you say?"

"The betrothal decree is written for the Third Miss." Cuiwei repeated, her voice even lower. "That's why the Master agreed. Otherwise... otherwise, if the Demon Realm found out someone had been swapped, that would be a serious matter."

Ye Qingya's mind began to race.

A betrothal decree from the Demon Realm, naming the Ye Clan's third daughter specifically? A waste born with blocked Spirit Veins, incapable of Beast Taming?

That didn't add up.

By normal logic, if the Demon Realm wanted a marriage alliance, they'd seek the legitimate daughter of a Beast Taming family—someone with spiritual power, talent, someone who could represent the Ye Clan's prestige. What could they possibly want with a waste?

Unless—

"Third Miss!" Cuiwei suddenly looked nervously toward the yard gate. "Madam Liu is here."

Before Ye Qingya could react, the yard gate was pushed open.

Concubine Liu walked in with a retinue of maidservants and matrons. She was in her forties, exceptionally well-preserved, with a fair complexion and shrewd eyes. She wore a deep purple satin dress, a gold and gem-inlaid walking hairpin in her hair, and her accessories jingled as she walked.

Behind her came Ye Wan'er.

Ye Wan'er was two years older than Ye Qingya, the eldest legitimate daughter of the Ye Clan—strictly speaking, legitimate only after Madam Liu had been promoted to main wife. She wore a light yellow blouse and skirt, her features were striking, and her brows and eyes carried a spoiled, self-indulgent arrogance. When she saw Ye Qingya standing in the yard, her lips curled slightly, before she quickly arranged her expression into one of concern.

"Third Sister, are you feeling better?" Ye Wan'er stepped forward, her tone as soft as if she were coaxing a child. "I heard you had a high fever yesterday. I was so worried."

Ye Qingya looked at her and said nothing.

In the original owner's memories, every time Ye Wan'er used that tone of voice, a knife was sure to follow.

"Thank you for your concern, Eldest Sister." Ye Qingya lowered her head, her voice soft. "I'm much better."

Madam Liu sat down on the only chair in the yard, scanned the dilapidated surroundings, and her brow furrowed almost imperceptibly—not out of pity, but out of disdain.

"Qingya," she began, her voice as warm and kind as a model mother's, "you've just recovered. I didn't want to bother you with these matters. But the date for the marriage alliance has been set for the eighth of next month. There's only half a month left. You need to start preparing."

"Yes." Ye Qingya obediently replied.

Madam Liu seemed surprised she had agreed so readily. She paused for a moment, then took a document from her sleeve and handed it over. "This is a copy of the betrothal decree from the Demon Realm. Take a look. The betrothal gifts have already been received into the storehouse. Your Eldest Sister's dowry... well, I've also had people prepare a dowry for you. Though it may not compare... in any case, the Ye Clan will not mistreat you."

Ye Qingya took the document and opened it.

The betrothal decree was written on a kind of paper she had never seen before. The ink glowed with a faint silver sheen, and the characters were bold and forceful, each stroke carrying an indescribable sense of pressure. It read—

"Xuan Cang, the Demon Emperor, takes Ye Qingya, the third daughter of the Ye Clan, as his Empress."

Ye Qingya's gaze stopped on the words "as his Empress."

Empress.

Not consort, not concubine—Empress.

The Demon Emperor wanted to marry her as the Demon Empress.

She looked up at Madam Liu. Madam Liu wore a perfectly polite smile on her face, but there was an indescribable glint in her eyes—a look of smug satisfaction mixed with relief.

Ye Wan'er stood behind Madam Liu, twisting her handkerchief in her fingers, her knuckles turning white.

Ye Qingya suddenly understood.

Ye Wan'er was supposed to be the one to go for the marriage alliance. The Demon Empress—what a glory that was! If the legitimate daughter of the Ye Clan married over, she would become the mother of the Demon clan. In the future, the Ye Clan's standing among the Four Great Beast-Taming Families would be unshakeable. How could Madam Liu let such a benefit slip away to someone else?

But the Demon Realm's betrothal decree was written for the "Third Miss."

Madam Liu had probably also considered swapping—changing "Third Miss" to "Eldest Miss"—after all, the Demon Realm had never seen what the two Ye daughters looked like. But the betrothal decree was written in black and white with "Ye Qingya" three characters, personally written by the Demon Emperor. Swapping would be a crime of deceiving the sovereign.

So she had no choice but to push Ye Qingya forward.

But inwardly, she must have been gnashing her teeth in resentment—not only had the prize within reach slipped away, but it had slipped into the hands of the very waste she despised most.

"Madam," Ye Qingya folded the betrothal decree and tucked it into her sleeve, "I have a question."

"Go ahead."

"Why did the Demon Emperor specifically name me?"

The yard fell silent for a moment.

Madam Liu's smile froze for half a beat. Ye Wan'er twisted her handkerchief even tighter.

"Well..." Madam Liu quickly recovered her smile. "Who can fathom the thoughts of the Demon Emperor? Perhaps it's the renown of the Ye Clan, or perhaps... perhaps it's fate, and when fate comes knocking, there's no stopping it."

Ye Qingya looked into her eyes.

Madam Liu was evading the question.

She didn't know the answer. Or rather, she thought she knew, but the answer made her uneasy.

"Third Sister," Ye Wan'er suddenly spoke, her voice still soft, "don't overthink it. The Demon Emperor taking a liking to you is your good fortune. Our Ye Clan has practiced Beast Taming for generations. Though you... though your Spirit Veins are somewhat blocked, once you're married, with the Demon Emperor looking after you, it will surely be better than staying in the Ye Clan..."

She didn't finish, but the meaning was clear—better than staying in the Ye Clan as a useless waste.

Ye Qingya smiled.

"Eldest Sister is right." She lowered her head, her voice light. "It is my good fortune."

Madam Liu nodded with satisfaction, stood up, and left with her retinue.

Ye Wan'er walked at the back. As she passed by Ye Qingya, she paused, leaned in, and said in a voice meant for only the two of them to hear.

"What good fortune you have, dear sister."

Her tone was as sweet as honey, but her eyes were as cold as ice.

Ye Qingya didn't look up.

When the sound of footsteps had faded into the distance, Cuiwei came running out of the house, her eyes red again. "Third Miss, they're pushing you into a pit of fire! The Demon Realm—how could a human go there and come back alive?"

Ye Qingya stood in the yard, looking at the high wall, the upturned eaves beyond it gilded by the setting sun.

"Cuiwei," she said, "do you believe in fate?"

"Huh?"

"The Demon Emperor named a waste to be his Demon Empress." Ye Qingya turned around, the corner of her mouth curving upward. "Either he's gone mad, or—"

She didn't finish.

Because she suddenly noticed something.

Under the crooked tree in the corner of the yard, something was lying there. Gray, furry, not very big—about the size of a small cat.

It was curled up by the tree roots, covered in dirt, as if it had been wandering for a long time.

Ye Qingya walked over and crouched down.

It was a Little Wolf Cub.

Gray fur, drooping ears, so thin its ribs were showing. Its eyes were half-closed, as if it were on the verge of death.

But the moment Ye Qingya crouched down, it opened its eyes.

A pair of amber eyes, impossibly bright in the twilight.

It looked at Ye Qingya, then suddenly twitched its nose and let out an extremely faint, weak whimper.

Then it struggled to its feet, wobbled over to Ye Qingya's feet, and nuzzled its head against her shoe.

Ye Qingya was stunned.She didn't know why, but in that instant, her heart throbbed with a sharp pain—not the kind of pain from dying of sudden cardiac arrest before transmigrating, but a deeper, more ancient ache, a bitterness that seemed to seep out from the marrow of her bones.

She crouched down and picked up the Little Wolf Cub.

It was as light as a clump of wet cotton, shivering in her palm.

"You're unwanted too?" she whispered.

The Little Wolf Cub whined softly and buried its face in her hand.

Cuiwei leaned in to look: "Third Miss, this… this is a wild wolf cub, isn't it? Maybe we should throw it away. It's awfully dirty."

"No throwing." Ye Qingya hugged it closer to her chest. "We're keeping it."

She couldn't explain why. But holding this Little Wolf Cub, that unsettled, fluttering feeling that had been hanging over her since she transmigrated suddenly settled a little.

It was as if something, from very far away, had been watching her all along.

That night, Ye Qingya lay on the hard bed while the Little Wolf Cub curled up at her feet, already asleep, occasionally kicking its legs as if dreaming.

She went over the day's events in her mind.

Transmigration. Waste. Marriage by proxy. Demon Emperor.

The three words on the marriage contract—"Ye Qingya."

She turned over and stared at the beam above her head.

Why would the Demon Emperor specifically name a waste?

Madam Liu didn't know the answer. Ye Wan'er didn't either. They only saw the words "Demon Empress"—one wanted to claim the benefit for her own daughter, the other wanted to kick the threat out the door.

But Ye Qingya had a gut feeling—this matter was not as simple as it appeared on the surface.

Did the Demon Emperor know her?

Impossible. In her past life, she was a 996 wage slave who didn't even have time for a relationship. How could she have known the Demon Emperor?

But what about the original owner? The original Ye Qingya, a waste miss who had been raised locked away in a corner of the Ye Clan since childhood, had barely left the front gate. It was even more impossible for her to know the Demon Emperor.

So why, then?

Just as she was thinking, the Little Wolf Cub at her feet suddenly stirred, letting out a thin cry, as if uneasy in its dream.

Ye Qingya reached out and stroked its head.

"Don't be afraid," she whispered. "I'm here."

The Little Wolf Cub quieted down, buried its nose in its tail, and fell into a deeper sleep.

Ye Qingya closed her eyes.

Tomorrow she would start preparing her dowry, and the day after, she would set out on the journey. She didn't even know what the Demon Realm looked like, and she was already going to marry into it.

But strangely, she wasn't as scared as she had imagined.

Perhaps it was because of the Little Wolf Cub. Perhaps it was because of that feeling of being watched by something.

Perhaps it was just because—she had already died once. Those who have died once can't have such bad luck.

She drifted off to sleep.

In her dream, she seemed to be standing in a vast expanse of white fog. Something in the distance was calling to her, a voice very low and gentle, like the echo of wind passing through a canyon.

She couldn't make out what it was calling.

But she knew that voice was saying—

"I found you."