Chapter One: Transmigrated Into a Novel (Add to Bookshelf)

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[Mind Storage: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, ...
Custodian: Author
Deposit Time: Chapter 1
Retrieval Time: Final Chapter]

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1987
In a communal building in Haishi

“Mom, you have to believe me—he’ll be rich one day.”
Chen Jinlan’s expression grew sour. “I don’t approve of this, Jiajia. Are you out of your mind? He’s a police captain!”
Song Jiajia was just as stubborn. “Mom, I don’t care. I won’t marry Jiang Jingming.”
Outside the room, the argument between Chen Jinlan and Song Jiajia drifted to Sang Yu’s ears.

Sang Yu lay on a narrow wooden bed, barely a meter wide. The small room could only fit this bed and a battered little cabinet.
A trace of confusion lingered in Sang Yu’s eyes as she looked around this room, so reminiscent of a bygone era.
She felt exhausted.

Yes, she had transmigrated into a novel—a story set in a prior decade, one she had read before.
She had become the supporting character, Sang Yu, whose fiancé was snatched away by her cousin.

Her name, Sang Yu, sounded exactly like the original supporting character’s, though she herself had been called Sang Yu in her own world.
If she remembered correctly, it was now 1987—the very moment when the heroine, Song Jiajia, had just been reborn.

In her previous life, Song Jiajia had married a policeman named Jiang Jingming. But within days of their wedding, Jiang Jingming died in the line of duty during a criminal pursuit.
From then on, Song Jiajia became a widow, her personality turning volatile and irritable.
What’s more, she grew envious of Sang Yu, who had married a good man.
Though Sang Yu’s family had once been destitute, in just two years her husband had struck it rich in business down south.
Sang Yu had transformed from a plain, impoverished girl into a radiant phoenix.

Song Jiajia resented Sang Yu—resented that an orphan with no parents could have such a blessed life.
In her mind, all these things should have belonged to her.

So in this second life, she told Chen Jinlan she wanted to marry Lu Hao, the very man who had been Sang Yu’s husband in her past life.
Naturally, Chen Jinhua objected. How could Lu Hao compare to Jiang Jingming?
At least Jiang Jingming had left the army to become a police captain, while Lu Hao was just a temp worker, holding a job that actually belonged to his sister.
How could a man like that ever achieve anything?

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But Song Jiajia was insistent.
“Mom, I don’t care—I want to marry Lu Hao!” she declared, leaving no room for argument.

Chen Jinlan tried to reason with her, “Jiajia, listen to your mother. Lu Hao has two elderly parents and a younger sister. He’s just a temp worker right now. If you marry him, life will be hard.”
“Mom, Lu Hao will make something of himself in the future,” Song Jiajia said anxiously.
She couldn’t explain to Chen Jinlan that she had been reborn—how could she possibly tell her that?

“Jiajia, Lu Hao is already engaged to Sang Yu. If you marry him, what will people say?”
“That’s simple—just have Sang Yu and me switch fiancés,” Song Jiajia replied, as if it were only right.
Last time, Sang Yu had enjoyed several good years. That was more than enough.
This time, she wanted Sang Yu to know what it felt like to be a widow.

“No!” Chen Jinlan objected.
“Why not?”
Chen Jinlan glanced at the little room’s door and lowered her voice. “Are you stupid? He’s a police captain—why let that little wretch Sang Yu have him?”
Chen Jinlan had never liked Sang Yu.
If it hadn’t been for Song Zhenhua insisting on adopting her, she would never have agreed to take in someone else’s child.

“Mom, don’t worry. Even if she marries him, her life won’t be any better.”
After all, in just about a month, Jiang Jingming would die on duty.
Then Sang Yu would be a laughingstock.

“How do you know that?” Chen Jinhua looked at Song Jiajia with suspicion.
Since yesterday, she’d sensed something odd—Song Jiajia had been eager to marry Jiang Jingming, and now she refused.

Song Jiajia’s gaze darted away. “Mom, just leave it. I won’t marry Jiang Jingming. If you force me, I’ll do something drastic.”
Chen Jinlan looked at her daughter with bitter disappointment. “You—what am I supposed to say? You’re turning down such a good man.”

Sang Yu figured it was about time to make an appearance.
It was time to meet this cousin who had returned from another life.

As the door creaked open, both women in the living room turned to look.
Sang Yu leaned against the wall, her face bare of makeup but unable to hide her delicate features. Her complexion was pale with a sickly hue, thick lashes casting a small, distinct shadow beneath her eyes.
Her frail, fragile appearance made one want to protect her.

A flicker of jealousy flashed in Song Jiajia’s eyes. Ever since Sang Yu first arrived in their home, she had envied her looks.
Now, even in illness, she seemed even more beautiful.

“Aunt, cousin,” Sang Yu greeted them with a soft, weak voice.

Chen Jinlan frowned. What she disliked most was Sang Yu’s fragile demeanor—it made people think she, as her aunt, treated her badly.
“Sang Yu, you’re awake? How are you feeling?”
She still had to keep up appearances.

“Thank you, Aunt. I feel much better now.”

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Sang Yu lowered her head, revealing her slender, pale neck.
Song Jiajia snorted coldly, her tone commanding. “Sang Yu, I have something to say to you.”
Sang Yu lifted her gaze, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she looked at Song Jiajia. “Cousin, what is it?” she asked gently.

“Jiajia!” Chen Jinlan tried to stop her.

She still thought Song Jiajia was being too impulsive. How could she just throw away such a good man?

Song Jiajia ignored her mother, looking down at Sang Yu with arrogance.
“I want to swap fiancés with you!”

Sang Yu clutched her chest, looking at Song Jiajia in shock. “What?”
“I said I want to switch engagements. Hand over your token of betrothal,” Song Jiajia demanded, reaching out her hand.

Sang Yu stared at her, her body swaying as if unable to bear the blow. “Cousin, what are you talking about?”
“How can we swap?”
“Why not? Hurry up!” Song Jiajia pressed.

Sang Yu didn’t move. Instead, she turned to Chen Jinlan.

Chen Jinlan tugged at Song Jiajia’s hand. “Jiajia—”
“Mom, say no more. This engagement must be switched!” Song Jiajia was resolute.
She turned to Sang Yu. “My family has raised you all these years. You won’t even swap an engagement?”

Moral blackmail? Sang Yu sneered to herself.

Raised her all these years?
The original host might not have known, but she certainly did.

The original host’s father had been a soldier who sacrificed his life for the country, earning a substantial compensation of three thousand yuan—a sum more than enough for the original Sang Yu to grow up on.
Song Zhenhua had adopted Sang Yu for that very sum.
She had never seen a single cent of it.

Her life here had been far from easy: a tiny room barely big enough for a single narrow bed, endless chores every day.
Even in the dead of winter, she was made to wash the family’s clothes, her hands breaking out in chilblains year after year.

And now they told her she’d been “raised” by them for so many years?
Even in the old days, if you bought a servant, you’d at least feed and house them!

[This story is entirely fictional. Please don’t overanalyze.
If something seems unrealistic, it’s for the sake of the plot.
Readers, please be kind.]