The Rebirth of Vengeance

In my past life, my name was Thẩm Miểu Âm, and my life was a perfect tapestry of success and fulfillment. I was the top student, the ‘star pupil,’ with a loving family, a brilliant husband, Giang Chỉ Nhat, and a baby daughter whose first word was “Mom.”

But this perfect life was stalked by a relentless shadow: Tran Vũ Hân, the daughter of my mother’s best friend.

Since childhood, she was my copycat. I learned piano, she followed. I took extra classes, she enrolled too. Yet, the outcome was always the same: I soared, and she failed to make her mark. I was complacent, attributing her actions to childish admiration, never realizing the depth of her mounting jealousy.

The end came at my daughter’s first birthday party. Amidst the cheer and happiness, Tran Vũ Hân approached me, her eyes filled with madness and hate. Her final words, cold and sharp, sealed my fate: “Why do you get to live so well? Everything we went through was exactly the same.”

Without warning, she plunged a knife into my neck. My last conscious act was grasping the blade to shield my baby girl. As my senses faded, I heard Giang Chỉ Nhat’s desperate scream. I died, right at the peak of my life.

When I opened my eyes again, a bizarre miracle had occurred. Both Tran Vũ Hân and I were reborn, returned to the time before elementary school.

Trần Vũ Hân, armed with the memories of her past life, found me, her eyes shining with triumph: “This time, I got the head start! Your life should be returned to me now!”

But she was wrong. Everything I ever had wasn’t about being “one step ahead.” Rebirth didn’t change my character, but it unleashed the fury I had suppressed for too long.

My first thought, not fear or caution, was a burning desire for revenge: I must kill her!

Development: The Clash of the Reborn

Knowing that a simple, brutal murder wasn’t enough to satisfy my hatred, I concocted a more sinister plan: I would let her climb the ladder of success using my own achievements, and then, I would personally pull her down into the abyss.

This time, Tran Vũ Hân preemptively registered for piano lessons with Teacher Trương Nhat Tiểu, the teacher who had once praised my talent and earned her irrational hatred. She boasted: “I’ve registered first. Let’s see how much that old man can favor you now. This time, all the continuous piano championships will be mine. I will become a better pianist than you. This time, I will definitely step all over you.”

The moment her words finished, I delivered my first decisive blow—a sharp slap across her face.

“This time, I will definitely step all over you.” The moment her words finished, I delivered a sharp slap across her face.

It was the first time I had ever struck her. The bottled-up rage and pain of my past life erupted. I grabbed her hair and hit her repeatedly until my mother and her mother, Aunt Lâm Nguyệt, rushed in to separate us.

I, in my childlike body, seized the moment. I sobbed hysterically, pouring out the sorrow of my previous life, wailing: “Mom, Trần Vũ Hân said she wanted to steal my things, and she said she wanted to step on me, and she called me names!”

Lâm Nguyệt and Tran Vũ Hân’s faces drained of color. The feud, as I knew, stemmed from the toxic “friendship” between our mothers. Lâm Nguyệt envied my mother’s privileged life and treated her as a rival, despite exploiting her generosity. Now, that envy had transferred to us.

I recounted every grievance, including Tran Vũ Hân’s dark wish for my death. My mother, gentle and naive, prioritized her friendship and kept silent. I bitterly blamed her for being too loyal, even facilitating the introduction of Trần Vũ Hân’s future husband to Giang Chỉ Nhat’s company, a move that led to my murder.

The more I thought, the angrier I became, and the more I resented that I couldn’t kill Tran Vũ Hân right then. Unable to hold back, my crying grew louder and louder.

My father, who loved both his wife and daughter fiercely, immediately sided with me: “Nhiên Nhiên, you must be clear. Without an adult guiding her, what four- or five-year-old child understands such things?”

I stated my terms clearly: “Mom likes them, Mom can play with them, but I hate them, and I won’t play with them.”

My father mediated, promising to keep me away from them.

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The brief truce ended when we both started kindergarten in the same class. Trần Vũ Hân provoked me again, boasting about Teacher Trương’s praise. This time, I said nothing, simply picking up a comic book and hitting her squarely in the face.

The conflict escalated, leading to the principal’s office. Lâm Nguyệt stormed in, yelling and attempting to hit me. I challenged her loudly: “Go ahead and hit me! The police uncle will arrest you then!”

My father’s timely and commanding arrival settled the dispute. He fiercely protected me, forcing Lâm Nguyệt and her daughter to leave in humiliation.

To emphasize my resolve, I showed my anger towards my mother and insisted on accompanying my father to his company.

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Amidst this turmoil, I ran into a familiar face near our residential complex—not quite familiar, but my future: Giang Chỉ Nhat, at age seven, with his mother. He was staying there to look after a relative.

I shouted his name and waved frantically. Giang Chỉ Nhat ran over.

When we finally found a private space, my first question was: “How did this happen? Did you also come back?”

Giang Chỉ Nhat smiled, but his eyes held deep sorrow: “Don’t worry, Tran Vũ Hân didn’t kill me. I died of old age. I knew I had to take care of Yuan Yuan (our daughter) and your parents.”

I sighed in relief, but felt a pang of heartache. He confirmed my daughter, Viên Viên, was traumatized but recovered after treatment.

“Yuan Yuan looks a lot like you, and her personality is similar. Watching her grow up felt like watching you grow up. I’m so glad you’re back.”

With a fellow重生者 (reborn person) by my side, I initiated my revenge plan:

1. I quit piano and started Martial Arts. Tran Vũ Hân copied me briefly but quickly gave up to focus on piano (and fear of losing to me).

2. I gave Giang Chỉ Nhat the sheet music I had composed in my previous life, asking him to quietly post them online without promotion.

Giang Chỉ Nhất, with his IT knowledge, quickly understood: This was the bait. I was certain that Trần Vũ Hân, driven by her desire to win and her reborn arrogance, would steal and claim them as her own.

“I will protect you well this time,” he vowed.

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Life went on. Every time Tran Vũ Hân provoked me, I responded with force, instilling fear in her. My father consistently backed me up against Lâm Nguyệt. After I bit off a piece of Lâm Nguyệt’s hand during one of her attempts to “teach me a lesson,” my mother’s friendship with her finally began to wither.

In academics, I maintained my original ranking, while Tran Vũ Hân, using her “golden finger” of being reborn, consistently topped the class, fulfilling her wish to “step on me.” I didn’t care.

In high school, I subtly steered Trần Vũ Hân toward the Science track, which was not her forte, by belittling the Liberal Arts: “What does it prove to be good at Liberal Arts? It’s just memorization. Science is the key to a technological society.”

She also began to pursue Giang Chỉ Nhat. After he rejected a duet performance with her, she confronted me.

“Was it you? Did you tell Senior to not work with me?” “Are you sick? What does it have to do with me? I don’t even know any Senior Jiang.”

Her arrogance and blind jealousy worsened her social standing.

During the 10th-grade performance, Trần Vũ Hân played my first smash-hit composition from my past life. She immediately became an internet sensation. Seeing her smug look, I only showed indifference, which reassured her.

Through my subtle manipulation (via Giang Chỉ Nhất’s QQ account), Trần Vũ Hân released my second and third compositions. She was an instant hit every time she copied my work, while her self-written pieces barely got attention.

By the 12th grade, Trần Vũ Hân was a million-fan online sensation. The vanity and the illusion that I could never surpass her in music led her to abandon general studies and fully commit to the arts. She even skipped the college entrance exam.

I decided to let her enjoy her moment a little longer.

The college entrance exam concluded. Trần Vũ Hân’s fan base surpassed 5 million. She received an invitation from a famous foreign music academy.

Trần Vũ Hân stood before me, triumphant:

“Thẩm Miểu Âm, I was wrong before. I said your life should belong to me, but in reality, I did better than you. I won.“

I smiled, a look of pure satisfaction, and texted Giang Chỉ Nhất: “It’s time.”

Less than 5 minutes later, the internet exploded with the keywords: “Trần Vũ Hân plagiarism,” “Music prodigy girl stole music.”

I didn’t give her time to process, simply offering a final proverb: “Is that so? But as the saying goes, a cooked duck can still fly away.”

As I got into my father’s car, my mother’s phone rang. It was Trần Vũ Hân.

I took the phone: “What’s wrong? Did you get addicted to stealing? Did you actually think you were the original author?”

There was a pause, and Trần Vũ Hân’s voice trembled: “You… you really are reborn.”

She screamed: “So you’ve been faking it all along, you’ve been playing me! Thẩm Miểu Âm, why are you so vicious? I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”

My father slammed the brakes, snatching the phone and raging: “Dare to touch even a strand of my daughter’s hair, and I will mince you into dog food. I won’t just deal with you; I’ll dig up your ancestors!”

The plan was flawless. The pre-uploaded evidence by Giang Chỉ Nhất made the plagiarism undeniable. All of Trần Vũ Hân’s fame, contracts, and triumphs crumbled. She had sacrificed her education and was now truly left with nothing, all because of me.

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The more extreme the obsession, the more catastrophic the fall. Trần Vũ Hân’s murderous intent resurfaced.

I had been waiting for this day.

I publicly announced my successful admission to a top university (Tsinghua), the final weight crushing her heart.

One evening, she broke into our house, knife in hand: “Thẩm Miểu Âm, I’ll kill you!”

I was ready to use my 12 years of martial arts training. But before she could cross the threshold, Giang Chỉ Nhất appeared unexpectedly and subdued her.

I rushed to him, cooing: “Good job, hubby.”

Giang Chỉ Nhất, despite being angry that I had kept him in the dark, held her securely.

Trần Vũ Hân completely broke down: “You! You are all in this together!”

After tying her up, I comforted Giang Chỉ Nhất and waited for the police. Attempted murder was enough.

Trần Vũ Hân was executed for attempted murder. Lâm Nguyệt was institutionalized. Her father sold their house and left. My revenge was complete.

I visited Trần Vũ Hân in prison.

“Did you come specifically to gloat?” she asked.

“Yes,” I confirmed. “Thanks to you, I got into Tsinghua and am attending the same school as Senior Jiang. Sorry, but I won again.”

Trần Vũ Hân gnashed her teeth with hatred: “You think Giang Chỉ Nhất will love you for long? He’ll probably find a mistress and discard you like trash!”

I shrugged dismissively: “I’m not your mother.”

She went completely insane, slamming against the glass partition, still screaming threats to kill me as the guards dragged her away.

This was better than death. Watching her suffer, infuriated yet utterly powerless against me, was the most satisfying ending.

From then on, every time I achieved a new success, I visited her. Giang Chỉ Nhất also joined me occasionally to report on our loving relationship, just to irk her.

I knew he loved me. My parents had taught me what true love was. This new life, I decided, would no longer be wasted on hatred, but lived to the fullest with the love and success I truly deserved.