Slice of Life
After Returning to My Wealthy Family, I Found My Siblings Were Little Demons
The year I turned seventeen, my wealthy birth parents brought me home.
They hemmed and hawed before saying, “You also have a twin brother and a younger sister, but they…”
Judging by their attitude, I understood at once.
My brother and sister probably weren’t going to welcome me.
But in the next second, the door was pushed open, and a flamboyant figure strode in.
His hair was dyed a bright red, and he said with cheerful swagger, “So this is my little sis, huh? I dyed my hair red just to celebrate you coming home. Festive enough for you?”
Behind him followed a little girl with side-swept bangs, holding pomelo leaves, a peachwood sword, and yellow talismans.
“Sis, I got these from a master specially for you. They’ve even been consecrated. They’ll drive away all your bad luck!”
“…”
Every family has its own difficult story. Mine had two volumes.
Nianzhi
The day my fiancé came to break off our engagement, my mother was so excited that tears streamed down her face.
As it turned out, I was not her biological daughter.
She had adopted me only so I could take the calamity meant for her real daughter.
She said, “Now that the ordeal has been fulfilled, you ought to return to your own family.”
I packed my bundle. There was little I could take with me, which made for easy travel.
My birth mother was waiting by the back gate.
She had a booming voice and had come driving an ox cart-every inch an uncouth peasant woman who knew nothing of proper manners.
Because of her, everyone in the Marquis Manor looked down on me even more.
And yet, the one who would bring me back to the capital in splendor was precisely her.
When I Will Never Think of You Again
The tattoo on the back of Wei Yan’s neck was the initials of his ex-girlfriend’s name.
The only reason he had spared me a second glance in that vast sea of people was because my eyes and brows bore a striking resemblance to hers.
The Ring
I was the adopted daughter of the most beautiful widow in Jiangcheng.
When I was twelve, the Yellow River burst its banks and Jiangcheng was swallowed by the flood.
As we fled, the beautiful widow fell gravely ill.
Before she died, she clutched my hand and, after a long hesitation, told me to go to the capital and find her lover once she was gone.
I followed the refugees for half a month.
At last, in Prince Hongyang’s Manor, I met Prince Hongyang-a man who looked half like me.
