Cute Children

I’m the daughter of the heroine in an angsty novel.

When I was four, I finally understood those strange bullet comments:

[The heroine is still desperately staying up late, working to make money and support her daughter. She has no idea she already has cancer. If this drags on, her child is going to lose her mother!]

[If either the male lead or the female lead had just spoken up, there wouldn’t have been a “running away while pregnant” plot at all.]

[Their daughter is the real pitiful one. Her mother dies when she’s only six. The male lead never even learns the heroine died after giving birth to his daughter, and he spends the rest of his life alone.]

[And the most miserable one is our Xiao Bao. She obviously has a rich dad, yet she still gets sent to the orphanage…]

Mom was going to die?

I stared at my gentle, beautiful mother in shock. No way!

They may not speak up, but I do!

On a warm afternoon, outside an office building, I spotted a man in a sharp suit and threw my arms around his leg.

“Dad, send money! I need to save Mom!”

I was the famous beauty for miles around.

Oval face, shapely figure, hardworking. Suitors came asking for my hand from one end of the village to the other.

After weighing my options again and again, I chose Shen Jingzhi.

He was the only scholar in the several villages near us, with clean, handsome features, a gentle way of speaking, and a scholarly air no one else had.

My parents said he had a bright future ahead of him.

If I married him, maybe I’d even end up a government official’s wife someday.

They were only half right. Shen Jingzhi did indeed earn an excellent ranking later on.

But he was also unexpectedly taken back by the General’s Mansion and, in the blink of an eye, turned into a young master from a powerful family.

He didn’t want anything to do with his past anymore.

Neither I nor my mother-in-law was wanted anymore.

I transmigrated into a tragic romance novel as the female lead’s sister.

In the original plot, I spent my time abusing her daughter while simultaneously trying to seduce her husband.

Ultimately, I groomed her daughter to become the next generation’s tragic heroine, while I met a miserable end myself-tossed into the ocean to feed the fish.

Now, looking at the innocent Little Bean Bun standing before me, I said: “If you love suffering, you’ll have a never-ending supply of it. So, do you want to swallow that bitter pill, or are you going to speak up for yourself?”

“Go up there and give him a piece of your mind. If you win the argument, I’ll buy you a burger; if you lose, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“What? You’re afraid to win? Do you really love being a perpetual runner-up that much? You don’t have to be number one, but you can’t settle for second best, and you certainly can’t be a pushover.”

“Your mother brought you into this world to enjoy life, not to suffer. Go compete, go grab what’s yours, and be brave! Go get ’em, baby!”

At my ten-year high school reunion, I showed up bare-faced, wearing an outfit that cost less than three hundred yuan from head to toe, with a child in my arms.

And the poor boy I had once dumped, my ex-boyfriend, was now the CEO of XX Group, dressed in a sharp suit and sitting right across from me.

Before my father, Zhao Yong’an, left to join the army, he said that if he died out there, my mother was allowed to remarry the village hunter.

But though the hunter had a crippled leg, he was the fiercest man around. They said he could kill a tiger with a single punch, and that he had even beaten his previous wife to death.

If my mother married him, it would be no different from sending her to her death.

Three years later, sure enough, news came that Father had died.

Grandmother and the clan elders took twenty taels of silver from the hunter and forced my mother to be sold off to him.

The woman who lived across from us was beautiful, with a captivating, mature allure.

Every man in the building was bewitched by her. Only my husband scoffed.

But when the elevator suddenly plunged,

he completely forgot about me and our daughter. He turned around and pulled her tightly into his arms.

So tightly it was as if he wanted to press her into his own body.

In my third year as a palace maid, I encountered a child.

Floating above her head were the words: Villainess Supporting Character.

I wondered to myself, just how wicked could a seven-year-old child be?

That was until I saw her shove a palace maid to the ground.

Beat the eunuchs. And ruthlessly berate the head governess.

Only then did I realize she was absolutely right to hit them.

I had been wanting to thrash those people for a long time myself.

This wasn’t some Villainess Supporting Character; this was my angel baby.

Later, she asked me, “Don’t you hate me?”

I replied, “Of course not. I like you as much as there are stars in the sky, grains of sand in the desert, and drops of water in the ocean.”

Blushing yet acting with her usual haughty pride, she tucked her hand into my palm.

“You will attend to me tonight.”