“Mmm… Huh?!”

Luo Xiaolu rolled over in her sleep, shifting to lie face down—then froze. Something soft and squishy pressed beneath her.

Huh?

Something felt off. She wiggled slightly, testing up, down, left, right.

Holy crap—what is this addictive feeling?!

Why had she never felt this before?!

Rubbing faster and faster, Luo Xiaolu suddenly bolted upright, heart pounding, and glanced around wildly.

Morning light barely squeezed through the curtain gaps, illuminating the cramped, dim room. A mountain of clothes spilled across the bed, dust motes twisting ungracefully in the sunbeam. Cosmetics of all sizes lay scattered across the desk. On the wall hung an array of baseball bats—each one Luo Xiaolu’s “trusted companion.”

Where am I?

Utterly bewildered, Luo Xiaolu realized: this wasn’t her room.

As a proud 21st-century youth, a Marxist philosophy believer, communist successor, and class labor rep—how could her space be this chaotic?

Her gaze dropped.

There it was—the source of that strangely thrilling sensation. Two unmistakably large… *things*… stretching her plain white shirt into what could only be called Teacher Hatsuno’s limited-edition style.

Since when did *I* have weapons like this?!

But shock faded fast. Memories surfaced.

She’d transmigrated. Yes—*that* light novel trope. Luo Xiaolu, steadfast materialist, now inhabited the body of a girl on a parallel Earth.

The original owner? Also named Luo Xiaolu. A middle-school dropout. A fish who slipped through China’s nine-year compulsory education net.

Those bats? Not for sports. For *discipline*.

She lived alone with her younger sister in a rented apartment, scraping by on odd jobs. Parents vanished abroad when they were kids.

Wait—*another* little sister?! First her brother became a sister, now *this*?

Before any “rise-to-glory” plot could begin, she was handed childcare duty.

Her head felt like splitting in two.

At the mirror, Luo Xiaolu froze.

Thick black eyeshadow. Fiery red lips. Wild purple blush. Rebellious twin tails.

Eyes sharp enough to cut steel.

*This* is a delinquent girl?!

Recognition dawned. The girl in the glass was *her*.

Her expression went blank… then flushed crimson.

She slipped into the bathroom. After a quick routine, calm settled over her—transmigration shock finally tamed.

*Thanks, sis. All taken care of.*

Better safe than sorry—holding it in would’ve been torture!

Toweling her waist-length hair dry, Luo Xiaolu sifted through inherited memories.

A near-Earth parallel world. But after the unspeakable 1999 planetary war—a trauma too grim for post-2000s generations—the cultural landscape never healed. ACG culture? Barely sprouting.

Entertainment stayed brutally fast-paced:

Novels dropped after Chapter 1 if not instantly gripping.

Games demanded 999-damage-in-one-hit thrills; slow monster-raising titles were extinct.

Anything slow? Dead on arrival.

She folded clothes, smoothed the bed, carved out a sitting spot.

Then faced the mirror again—makeup gone.

Delicate features. Soft eyes. A quiet, neighbor-girl sweetness… *She’s only sixteen.*

How could *this* face swagger into delinquent brawls?

Thankfully, the wardrobe held zero skirts—just jeans, tees, leather jackets.

*As a straight man at heart… no urge for skirts yet. Totally normal. Right?!*

Suddenly—a light screen shimmered before her. Text materialized slowly:

*“Welcome to the Refined Young Lady Cultivation System~”*

No surprise. These days, who transmigrates without a cheat?

Though the name… questionable.

*Name: Luo Xiaolu*

*Refinement Index: -38*

*Refinement Points: 0*

*Skill Cards Held: None*

*Current Title: Uncouth Ruffian*

*This system cultivates the world’s most refined young lady—spreading elegance to every corner!*

*All actions affect your Index. Spread refinement. Shine bright!*

*Refined… young lady?*

Confused, Luo Xiaolu opened the store. Skill cards lined up: instruments, painting, vocal training. Yep—cultivation system.

But *negative* starting points?!

She frowned. Glanced at the messy room.

*Ah.*

Broom and rag in hand, she sprang into action.

Cosmetics capped and sorted. Clothes folded into drawers. Slightly risqué lingerie rolled away discreetly. Dusty nunchucks and spiked clubs tossed from under the bed…

Two hours later—

Wiping sweat, Luo Xiaolu surveyed the tidy space. Jeans. Crisp white tee. Deep breath.

*Now* this looked like a sixteen-year-old’s room.

*If you can’t sweep one room, how sweep the world?*

A refined young lady’s sanctuary *must* be orderly.

As a hardcore otaku, Luo Xiaolu had few virtues—but diligence? Near-invincible.

*Should’ve shed the delinquent label… probably.*

She reopened the system.

*Refinement Index: 0.*

Daily actions *did* matter.

Panic prickled.

No loud talking? No swearing? No nose-picking? Even… *snapping* mid-toilet-break could cost points?!

Every move must radiate refined elegance.

*How terrifying!*

*“New Title Obtained: A Salted Fish That Can Still Flip.”*

*“Newbie Gift Pack Unlocked!”*

So she wasn’t even *considered* a newbie before?!

Deeply wronged. *Why pay for the predecessor’s sins? Just give me back my War Dragon Barrett rifle!*

But she kept it inward. Voice it? This system’s tendencies would *definitely* dock points.

She tapped the gift pack.

*“Obtained: Writer Skill Card (Beginner)!”*

*“Automatically equipped.”*

Right. Time to earn that first bucket of gold—with a novel.