## Chapter One:
Pain. That was the first thing to greet Lin Feng in his new consciousness. A sharp, throbbing ache centered in his chest, spreading like a malevolent spiderweb through his body. It was followed by a sense of dizziness and a heaviness in his head, as if his brain was struggling to catch up with the rest of his exhausted frame.
He slowly opened his eyes, only to be overwhelmed by a soft, diffused white light emanating from a ceiling he'd never seen before. He blinked several times, trying to dispel the fog clouding his vision. This wasn't the ceiling of his cheap rented apartment, nor the ceiling of his cluttered office where he'd spent his final hours... or so he thought.
Carefully, ignoring the twinge in his neck, he turned his head. The room was... suspiciously luxurious. Walls painted a calm cream color, simple yet elegant furniture, and a massive flat-screen TV mounted on the opposite wall that seemed larger than the window of his old room. Beside the bed, medical devices emitted steady, quiet beeps, and an IV stand held bags of clear fluid connected to a thin tube that disappeared under a bandage on his arm.
"A hospital?" he muttered, his voice raspy and dry. That made sense, given the pain. But... what kind of hospital was this? The last thing he remembered was a different kind of pain, a burning sensation in his chest as he sat before his glowing computer screen, trying to finish another chapter of the web novel he followed with a mixture of passion and exasperation. Then... darkness.
"A private hospital for the rich, perhaps?" he thought with bitter sarcasm. "Did someone donate a new kidney and a luxury suite after I breathed my last from exhaustion? Oh, the sudden generosity of fate."
He tried to sit up slightly, but a sharp wave of pain shot through his ribs, accompanied by a muffled gasp that escaped him involuntarily. He surrendered back into the soft pillows, closing his eyes for a moment.
And then, the memories began to flood in. Not just his own, but others—strange and unsettling. Blurred images of arrogant faces, insulting words, a feeling of hubris and stupidity... and another young man, one with a calm gaze that hid a dangerous strength, confronting him on a wide marble staircase... Then the pain of falling, and muffled laughter.
"Lin Feng..." The name echoed in his mind like a distant whisper. Not his name, but the name of the stereotypical villain, the rich and reckless scoundrel in that urban novel he'd been reading. The villain who shared almost the same family name, whose fate was always to be a mere stepping stone for the true protagonist, "Chu Fan," before being crushed and cast aside.
He snapped his eyes open, pupils dilating. The novel... the villain... the pain in his ribs... the fall down the stairs... the luxurious hospital...
"No... It can't be," he whispered, a chill unrelated to the room's temperature creeping through his body. "Don't tell me I..."
He raised his other hand, the one not connected to the IV tubes, and looked at it. It was a young man's hand, strong, with smooth skin that had never known hardship. Not his hand, the hand of the overworked writer with ink-stained fingers. He wiggled his fingers; they responded instantly.
"My God... It really happened." The words slipped from his mouth, laced with disbelief and dark humor. "I died and transmigrated... into the body of the stupidest scoundrel in web novel history? Lin Feng? Are you kidding me, fate? Of all the characters, you chose this idiot who's good for nothing but causing trouble and getting beaten up?"
He let out a short, dry, mirthless laugh, cut short by another stab of pain. "Fantastic. An excellent start. An injured body, a reputation in tatters, and a superhuman protagonist waiting for the right opportunity to use my face as a floor mop. What else could possibly go wrong?"
At that moment, the room door opened quietly. A middle-aged man entered, wearing a neat black suit that looked slightly wrinkled, his face a mixture of anxiety and confusion. This was Zhao Fu, the loyal (pitifully so, in the new Lin Feng's opinion) personal assistant to the original scoundrel.
"Young... Young Master Lin? Are you awake?" Zhao Fu said softly, cautiously approaching the bed.
Lin Feng looked at him, trying to dredge up the original body's memories of how to deal with this man. Arrogance, orders, dismissal... all were available options. But the new Lin Feng had other priorities now. Survival.
"Water," he said, his voice still raspy, trying to mask his original tone.
Zhao Fu jumped as if electrocuted. "Right away, sir! Right away!" He hurried to a small table against the wall, poured a glass of water from a glass pitcher, and returned quickly, holding the cup with slightly trembling hands.
He helped Lin Feng lift his head slightly to drink. The cool water soothed his dry throat a little. As he drank, his eyes watched Zhao Fu. This man knew a lot. He was a window into this new world, and into the original Lin Feng's trouble-filled life.
"How long has it been?" Lin Feng asked after finishing the water, resting his head back on the pillow.
"Two days, sir. You were unconscious for two whole days," Zhao Fu replied, anxiety returning to his face. "The doctors said your injuries were serious, especially the broken rib... They were very worried."
"Hmm," Lin Feng made a noncommittal sound. Two days. That meant events were still in their early stages. There was still time. Time to think, to plan, to change this ridiculous script.
"Did... did anyone visit me?" he asked, trying to sound as natural as possible.
Zhao Fu hesitated for a moment. "The Old Master (his father) called several times, but he didn't come. And Madam... your mother, she came briefly yesterday, looking very angry." He paused, then added in an even lower voice, "And Miss Xiao... Xiao Yanran, she was here with the police on the first day, but she left quickly."
Xiao Yanran. The main heroine. And the police? It seemed the original Lin Feng hadn't just gotten beaten up; he'd gotten involved in something else too. Lin Feng sighed inwardly. "This scoundrel left me nothing but a mess to clean up."
"Alright," Lin Feng said, closing his eyes again. "I want to rest now. Don't let anyone disturb me. And you, stay close. I might need you later."
"Of course, sir! I'll be right outside the door," Zhao Fu said with a slight bow, then quietly retreated from the room, closing the door behind him.
Once he was alone again, Lin Feng let out a long breath. The sarcastic thoughts began to give way to colder analysis. The situation was bad, but not hopeless. He was alive, and he had knowledge of the future (or at least, the novel's original future). That gave him an advantage the original Lin Feng never had.
He looked out the large window. Below, the bustling city of Jinhai stretched out, with its gleaming skyscrapers and crowded streets. A new world, a new life, and a new role he had to play. He was no longer just a passive reader; he was now a player in this complex drama.
"Alright, Chu Fan, and you ridiculous fate," he whispered to himself, a cold smirk touching his lips. "You've cast me as the villain. Let's see if I stick to the script this time."