Chapter 1

Transmigration Diary 1
“Is that Wen Shiyu?”
At lunch the main dining hall of Saint Winsor Academy for Girls was packed.
As one of the world’s top aristocratic schools, even an ordinary campus restaurant had gold-trimmed arched windows, black-and-gold marble floors, and a soaring dome.
Such an elegant, etiquette-conscious setting was now rippling with hushed, suspicious whispers—all because an Asian girl had walked in.
“I thought she’d already dropped out……”
“Wasn’t there a rumor her family went bankrupt……?”
“Hah—that lake jump was just a pity play for the crowd, wasn’t it?”
“Did she think that would earn forgiveness?”
Malicious murmurs spread like tide. Wen Shiyu at the center of every gaze seemed not to hear.
The black-haired girl went straight to the long buffet.
Silver platters held escargot, caviar, fat goose liver, delicate dessert towers—luxury without limit.
Her eyes swept past them without stopping. She took only plain whole-wheat bread and soda crackers from the free section.
Then she carried that humble plate to an empty window seat at the edge of the room.
The odd choice drew countless covert stares.
“See? She won’t touch real dishes—only free bread…… Her family really must be in trouble.”
“Honestly…… when Wen Shiyu keeps quiet, is she actually…… kind of pretty?”
“Are you insane? Forget how she viciously slandered Cefalina!
She implied Cefalina’s allowance had dirty sources…… Absurd! Is there any family richer than blue-blood Cavendish?”
“I think Wen Shiyu should worry about her own money now, no?
Hah—if she can’t pay tuition, maybe she’ll have to sell herself?”
The last line was deliberately loud, naked mockery.
Wen Shiyu finally reacted. She stopped and turned, gaze calm toward the voice.
The young ladies at that table straightened, bracing for the tantrum or sharp retort they knew— that was the Wen Shiyu they remembered.
Nothing came.
The girl only looked at them—no anger, no shame, no ripple at all.
Light from the window caught the tips of her dark hair. Unmade-up skin was clean to transparency.
Brows and eyes were light and cool, like white plum after first snow, blooming alone on a branch.
Nothing like the memory of heavy makeup and constant sneers.
Many who stole glances froze, startled without knowing why.
Had Wen Shiyu…… changed somehow?
Wen Shiyu felt a little guilty herself.
What—had they figured out she wasn’t the original?
Blame the foreign aristocratic-school setting—everyone spoke English and the background noise was brutal.
She hadn’t understood a word.
Yes. Wen Shiyu was an unlucky transmigrator.
She had entered a same-named rich-second-generation character who attended this elite girls’ academy abroad alongside the novel’s it-girl lead, Cefalina.
Everyone here was wealthy. Compared to the main cast, the original host’s family was nothing special—background extra at best.
Unfortunately the original host’s brain was not normal.
Losing to the it-girl in looks alone, jealousy twisted her. Anonymous posts smeared Cefalina; ugly rumors spread.
She even fantasized that the Alphas around Cefalina all secretly pursued her and disliked Cefalina.
The tactics were so crude they were exposed fast—her reputation cratered. Background NPC became campus-wide pariah.
In a sense she had “succeeded”—everyone noticed her; she earned the title of Cefalina’s sworn enemy.
Then the family business failed.
Even knowing cash was tight, she kept hitting her parents for money—more luxury goods to “outshine” Cefalina in aura.
But Cefalina’s Cavendish line was true hereditary nobility, top-tier old money, bottomless depth.
However the original host struggled, she only played clown—for extra laughter.
Finally her family learned whom she had provoked at school. Furious, they cut her allowance—earn your own way to graduation.
The original host collapsed. In impulse she threatened to jump into the lake—and actually slipped and fell in.
Wen Shiyu transmigrated at that moment.
Pull her out a little later and she might have died too.
Even alive now, the mess remained.
But Wen Shiyu had been optimistic since childhood—optimism was how she survived.
Whatever. Eat first. Full stomach, then figure out how to pay obscene tuition.
When Wen Shiyu only smiled and “magnanimously” set down her plate to chew tasteless bread, the room was shocked.
Wen Shiyu smiled at them? She really ate bread?
She was kind of pretty when she smiled……
No, no—that couldn’t be. Was she…… prettier without makeup?
What exactly was different!
The girls who had mocked her were stunned.
They watched Wen Shiyu sit alone by the window.
Sun through clean glass wrapped her slender hands on the bread—almost transparent white……
Some blushed, even forming an absurd thought:
If Wen Shiyu were willing to sell herself—
maybe someone at the academy really would want her.
Then a deeper stir swept the entire first floor.
“Cefalina’s here!”
Wen Shiyu looked up without thinking.
At the entrance the hall fell pin-drop silent as a girl entered.
Even having seen her before, when Cefalina appeared unannounced Wen Shiyu’s breath still caught.
Worthy of the novel’s it-girl lead—
Cefalina looked like a princess stepped from a picture book—beauty beyond words, violently striking.
Saint Winsor had no shortage of faces bought with money and time, yet the moment Cefalina appeared every other glow dimmed and blurred—background noise for her alone.
She was the sole absolute protagonist, naturally stealing every breath and gaze.
Half a step behind walked another striking face—a cold, tall female Alpha.
Nearly six feet, eyes slightly lowered, straight nose and sharp jaw—handsome and beautiful together.
Her gaze never left Cefalina—focused, tender.
This…… was the person the original host had crushed on?
Wen Shiyu’s eyes lingered a moment longer on the pair.
Then Cefalina suddenly looked up—sight crossing the crowd to land exactly on Wen Shiyu.
She frowned; glass-pale eyes filled with clear rejection.
With her friend she turned and climbed the marble spiral stairs to the second-floor private boxes.
Only when she vanished at the landing did the frozen air on the first floor loosen.
People woke from a brief, stunning dream—breathing, whispering, noise returning.
Many glanced again at Wen Shiyu by the window.
By habit she should be twisted with jealousy—or doing something attention-grabbing.
But Wen Shiyu had already looked away.
Head down, same pace, she finished the last bite on her plate—strange calm and grace, as if Cefalina meant nothing.
More surprise.
Was this still Wen Shiyu? Had she really changed??
Wen Shiyu had deliberately not stared.
If possible she wanted to salvage the original’s name—not to fight for some “campus belle” crown, but to fade back to invisible and graduate in peace.
When she finished the free bread and stood to leave—
**Bang!**
A muffled sound from upstairs—then rising commotion.
A pale young server in uniform rushed down the stairs shouting:
“Emergency! All Alpha and Omega students on the first floor—leave the dining hall immediately, in order!
An Omega on the second floor has unexpectedly entered heat!”
Unexpected public heat was maximum alert.
Nearby Alphas might lose control to pheromones; other Omegas might chain-react. Evacuation was standard.
But something went wrong. The server added desperately: “We’re short-handed! Any Beta willing to help—come to the second floor now!”
Betas were pheromone-blind—ideal helpers.
In the chaos Wen Shiyu at least caught that an Omega needed aid.
She hesitated, pushed back her chair, ran against the flow toward the stairs.
The second floor was more delicate—semi-private alcoves, sofas, separate tables.
A sideboard offered drinks.
As she fought upward a panicked girl shoved her; Wen Shiyu’s elbow hit the table edge.
**Crash!**
A full cup of dark purple plum wine soaked her shirt front and jacket.
Strong alcohol rose at once.
She only staggered, frowned at the stain—no time for that now.
On the landing she saw a crowd packed outside a box door deep in the hall.
Several Alpha students flushed red, trying to rush the box. At the door a tall figure blocked them—**Su Yan**, the female Alpha who had followed Cefalina.
Arms spread like a barrier, veins standing at her temples, shoving against Alphas clearly gone wrong—on the edge of explosion.
Wen Shiyu could not smell scents—she was the calmest one there.
She snatched a staff jacket from somewhere, yelled “Move aside,” and using the crush slipped through into the guarded box.
Soft light inside—and collapsed at the round table, an Omega.
Cefalina……
The girl lay weak on the table edge, face buried in her arms, only red ear tips and nape visible, body trembling in distress.
Wen Shiyu paused—then was glad she had come.
“Sworn enemy of the lead” was a bad badge to wear.
A chance to soften things.
She locked the door against the noise, stepped forward, pulled her up.
Cefalina startled upright—pale eyes filmed with heat-mist.
Focus wandered long before it settled on Wen Shiyu’s face with difficulty.
“Is it…… you?”