Shang Jingyan woke up amidst a wave of searing pain.
The back of her head felt as if something had cracked it open, the wound tingling and drafty.
She reached back to touch it—her hand came away bloody.
Shang Jingyan: “…”
So it wasn’t just a feeling. It was real.
Before she could think further, fragments of memories that didn’t belong to her surged into her mind, making her head spin even more.
Clutching her head, Shang Jingyan sat up and saw her long hair had turned silver-white and slightly wavy. The clothes she wore clearly weren’t hers.
Was this… a dream?
She was lying on the floor beside a couch in a living room, surrounded by several empty bottles. The air reeked of alcohol.
There was a bloodstain on the corner of the coffee table. Judging from the scene, “she” must have gotten dead drunk, stumbled, and smashed her head against the table.
As her senses cleared, the flood of memories grew heavier, leaving Shang Jingyan stunned.
Just the previous night, she had drunk too much at a wrap-up party for her new film. A driver had been taking her home when—car accident, flashing headlights, chaos—
But now, other “memories” were telling her she had been drinking with a group of shady street friends, eating blue-shelled crabs and downing alcohol before staggering back to this rented apartment…
Shady street? Blue-shelled crabs? What was this?
“Ugh…”
Holding her throbbing temples, a foreign life was forcefully merging with her own, tearing at her sense of self.
[Binding successful. X71 Art System at your service—]
[Your status: Critical injury; Life force: Danger level—]
[100 Heartbeat Points have been advanced to stabilize your vitals. Immediate wound care recommended!]
A cold electronic voice echoed in her mind. Was this… one of those so-called transmigrations? Heavens, this was actually happening to her!
Sweat beaded on her forehead as she followed the system’s guidance, stumbling around to look for a medical kit.
[Current world: Interstellar future.]
[Bzz… Current Heartbeat Points: –100…]
Heartbeat Points? What were those?
[Your current wealth: 54 Star-Coins; Status: Penniless.]
The room was sparsely furnished and messy. Shang Jingyan fumbled out a medical spray, following the original body’s memories to apply it to the wound. Her scalp itched as it rapidly healed.
Impressive… so this was interstellar-level medicine.
Collapsing onto the sofa, Shang Jingyan’s mind swirled with confusion and doubt.
Tentatively, she asked in her mind: [Can you explain what you are? And what am I supposed to do?]
[This system’s purpose: Cultivate a Master of the Arts. We select artistic talents across different worlds and assign them tasks based on local standards.]
[Analysis: This world’s art thrives on romance. Its people worship the thrill of love. Therefore, the evaluation metric is Heartbeat Points, measured by audience heart rate, hormones, adrenaline, etc., when engaging with your works.]
[Complete the tasks, and you will earn permanent residence in this world—a new life.]
[First task: Collect 10 Heartbeat Points. Time limit: 30 days.]
Shang Jingyan paused. So this world… everyone loved romance?
And just now, the system had said her Heartbeat Points balance was –100. Great. Her first mission was to collect 10, but she was already in the red!
Before she could process it all, a loud banging came from the door, accompanied by a sharp voice:
“Shang Jingyan! It’s already past the fifteenth! Where’s the money you promised?!”
“Don’t you dare pretend you’re not home, I know you’re in there!”
“Open up!!”
Shang Jingyan: “…”
Was this opening game state a little too miserable?
Rifling through the inherited memories, she realized the original owner had borrowed money—30,000 Star-Coins—from a not-so-legit lender, with interest close to loan-shark rates.
Today was the 18th. The repayment was already overdue by three days.
The system spoke again, a hint of “concern” in its mechanical tone:
[Host, you may advance more Heartbeat Points to convert into Star-Coins.]
She ignored it, forced herself to focus despite the headache, and checked the door camera: only one person outside. After a moment’s calculation, she opened the door.
“…Shang Jingyan, if you don’t open this—”
The woman outside, Cui-jie, was startled by the sight of her: pale-faced, dark circles, bandaged head. “What the hell happened to you?!”
“Cui-jie, give me a bit more time—no, twenty days,” Shang Jingyan said weakly, blood-stained hand gripping the doorframe.
“In twenty days, I’ll pay you two months’ worth. I already have a way to earn it.”
Cui-jie frowned. After some pleading and repeated promises, she reluctantly agreed.
“If you fail, I swear I’ll throw you into juvenile detention! Forget your stupid Dreamweaver dreams then!”
With that threat, she left.
Shang Jingyan dropped her polite façade, slumped onto the bloody couch, and poured herself a glass of water.
Her temples still throbbed, but she sat quietly, thinking.
Maybe humans were just… adaptable. One night: near-death, rebirth, debt. Yet here she was, skipping panic entirely and forcing herself into the new role.
[Your mental resilience exceeds the average human. But… are you sure you won’t advance any Points?]
After a long pause, Shang Jingyan replied: [No need.]
She hadn’t been bluffing—she really did have a way to earn money.
According to the original’s memories, in this interstellar era, the arts industry was flourishing. Making her first pot of gold wasn’t impossible.
“Dreamweavers”—that was what they called creators here. People who built dreams: movies, dramas, novels, games, shows. Their creations weren’t just entertainment; they were medicine.
Because in this world, a disease called Spiritual Void Syndrome plagued many. Without strong emotional stimulation, they would wither into lifeless husks.
Spirit here wasn’t an abstract idea—it was a real, measurable force, the greatest new ability humanity evolved in the star era.
Dreamweavers healed the masses through their works.
[Accept task?]
Shang Jingyan chose without hesitation: [Yes.]
[First task initiated. Progress: 0%. Heartbeat Points: –100.]
[Countdown: 30 days.]
The system sounded almost surprised:
[Host, according to my data, 80% of people choose to observe first, adapt to the world…]
It didn’t say the rest—and your current condition is so poor.
[No time. I’ll solve everything in one go.]
She meant the debt. As she spoke, she clumsily activated the wrist-mounted light-brain.
One login method for the Interstellar Web was “spiritual link.” Following the original’s habits, she connected—and a galaxy of data unfolded before her.
It was dazzling, almost intoxicating for someone from Earth.
But Shang Jingyan forced herself to stay calm, eyes scanning until she found it:
The largest entertainment platform in the system: Changqing.
System tags updated: [Self-control], [Decisive].
As a platform spanning an entire star system, Changqing was vast. It didn’t take long before Shang Jingyan located what she needed: the Newcomer Zone, and within it—a themed contest.
[Theme: Married First, Love Later]
First prize: 30,000 Star-Coins.
Exactly enough to save her neck.
The only problem—it was already halfway through. She’d have to outshine a sea of entries.
“Married First, Love Later.” Typical of a romance-crazed galaxy.
But…
Shang Jingyan stared at the four words, exited the link, and her expression turned peculiar.
[System, your metrics—are they purely physiological? Heart rate and such?]
[Correct.]
She smiled.
[Perfect.]
That smile—X71 couldn’t help but feel a chill.
It sounded the alarms in its core, recalling horror stories of systems ruined by their hosts.
No, no, stay positive. The host was just… ambitious. Unique!
After all, to be chosen as a potential Master of the Arts, one had to have immense talent.
[Host, had you achieved success in the arts before crossing over?]
[Of course,] Shang Jingyan raised an eyebrow.
X71 relaxed. As expected! That explained her confidence.
Then she opened a document and typed the title:
“Married to the Eldritch God.”
…Eldritch God?
X71 felt something was off.
But hey, plenty of this world’s works featured non-human romances. Love was love, right? The host was just following the spirit of this world!
Its energy ran low, so it logged off for now.
—If only X71 had asked one more question.
Because Shang Jingyan, in her previous life, was indeed a renowned director.
But her specialty was never romance.
It was horror.
