Family Conflict

When I transmigrated into the role of the true heiress, a universally disliked person, the story had already reached its end.

The fake heiress, doted on by all, had won everyone’s affection, leaving me to be cast out onto the streets. Destitute and adrift, I still clutched a half-eaten meat bun made from lymph node meat in my hand.

Such a miserable script gave me not a shred of will to live.

I lifted my head to look at the clear blue sky, my expression serene and relaxed. I was fully prepared to give up, contemplating whether to follow the original owner into the afterlife and elegantly choosing between a car crash or jumping off a building as the more dignified demise.

Just then, a passing gang of robbers dragged me into a car.

They pressed sharp knives to my throat, grinning ferociously:

“Don’t move! This is a robbery! Call your family right now and have them send five million in ransom.”

“If you dare make a sound, I’ll send you straight to hell!”

As expected, heaven has its own plans.

I nodded contentedly with a smile, tossed the bun aside, and screamed at the top of my lungs:

“Help!”

The friends of the Crown Prince of the Beijing Circle were always laughing at me for being a hick, saying I wasn’t even worthy of being a stand-in for his white moonlight.

They even predicted that I’d be packing up and leaving in less than a month.

I panicked and immediately summoned my seven older sisters for emergency training in the art of being a white moonlight substitute.

Even if I got fired, there was no way I was letting such a cushy gig fall into an outsider’s hands!

Then, a year later, the white moonlight returned to the country. The moment the crown prince saw her face-he threw up.

Trembling, he said, “I’m sick of it. So sick of it. For the rest of my life, I never want to see that face again!”

When I was four, a fortune-teller said I was fated to bring misfortune upon my parents. So they sent me away to a rural estate. For ten years, they never came to see me, nor did they care whether I lived or died.

At fourteen, they brought me home-so they could marry me off.

My legitimate elder sister laughed. “A fool marrying a sickly wretch. A match made in heaven.”

My parents said, “If this engagement weren’t impossible to break, and if your sister weren’t about to marry into a noble family, you wouldn’t even be worthy of carrying his shoes.”

“A married daughter is water poured out. Once you’re gone, don’t come back for anything.”

Only he held my hand and taught me to write my own name.

And then he taught me to write: “A woman, too, must respect and cherish herself, strive without ceasing, and press ever forward.”

My father was a professor at a prestigious university, and my mother held a doctorate in literature.

But only my older sister inherited their brilliant genes.

As for me, all I could do was chant “Makka Pakka,” the bitter little gourd their family tree had produced.

When my parents divorced, my sister chose Dad.

“I don’t want a retarded little sister,” she said.

I turned to Mom. “Be happy, Mommy. Makka Pakka!”

Luckily, Mom took my advice: she happily quit her job and started a company.

Years later, Dad nearly drove my genius sister out of her mind.

And I, still Makka-Pakka-ing my way through life, became the daughter of a millionaire.

For five years, I brought meals to the scholar next door.

When he passed the imperial examinations as Tanhua, he did not come back to marry me.

Others laughed at me for being foolish. Though it hurt, I still waved it off and pretended to be carefree.

Then, one year, Mother was beaten half to death by the principal wife. Clinging to what little old affection remained, I cast aside my dignity and went to beg him.

I begged him to find a way to invite Doctor Dong, the most renowned physician in Shangjing City, to come take a look at her, and to help me obtain some good medicine for my mother.

The scholar advised me with a troubled expression, “It isn’t that I won’t help you. It’s just… how could I possibly interfere in your father’s inner household? I know Mother has been wronged, but as a concubine, how could she never suffer a beating?”

Years later, the scholar was implicated by others and demoted, and came to beg at my door.

By then, I was already Lady Jun, a First-rank Imperial Mandate Lady, not someone ordinary people could meet at will.

People of the time had a saying: Better to offend Lord Zichen than to offend Lady Jun.

I idly picked at the gold foil on my nail guard and said slowly,

“It isn’t that I won’t help you. It’s just… I am only a woman of the inner quarters. How could I possibly have any say in affairs of court? Besides, as an official and a subject, how could one never suffer a grievance?”

In the third year of my relationship with Tan Zongmin, I caught him meeting the woman his family had arranged for him to marry.

The moment he saw me, he froze.

Noticing his distraction, she followed his gaze and asked curiously, “What are you looking at?”

Tan Zongmin looked away and replied flatly, “Nothing.”

I breathed a sigh of relief and played along with our unspoken understanding, pretending not to know him.

That morning, I’d received an email confirming that my resignation had been approved.

I’d been wondering how to break up with Tan Zongmin gracefully.

When the matchmaker came to propose the marriage, she said Cen Dalang (Eldest Master Cen) of the Cen family had talent, while Erlang (Second Master) had looks.

“A perfect match for your two young ladies.”

“The eldest son for the eldest daughter, the second son for the second daughter.”

“With their older brother and sister looking after them, how could the younger ones ever have a bad life?”

In my last life, things were indeed just as the matchmaker had said.

I married Dalang, and my younger sister married Erlang (Second Master).

Dalang and I spent years cleaning up mess after mess for our younger siblings.

Until Dalang died saving Erlang (Second Master).

I thought he would resent them.

But instead, he looked at my plain, unremarkable face, tears in his eyes, and sighed bitterly.

“This life was far too worthless.”

“Was I not even worthy of having a beautiful wife?”

He passed away with that regret.

It struck me like a bolt from the blue.

So all those messes he had cleaned up-he had done it willingly.

Not only for his younger brother, but for my younger sister as well.

Now, reborn into this life,

as I listened to the matchmaker say those same words,

I merely replied calmly,

“Let’s forget it. Dalang has no looks, and Erlang (Second Master) has no talent. Neither of them is a good match.”

I grew up in the countryside until I was seventeen. Then people from the capital came and told me I was the young lady of a marquis’s household.

But the moment I arrived in the capital, they hurriedly married me off to a spoiled wastrel.

Later, that wastrel caused a disaster and had his family estate confiscated. I was the only one who tossed him a sickle and said,

“Husband, come home with me and farm the fields.”

My boyfriend had depression.

Medication and sessions with specialists cost over ten thousand a month.

To help him get better, I took on art commissions and delivered takeout day and night. Even my friends warned me to be careful before I worked myself to death.

Then one day, I managed to grab an errand order from a wealthy villa district.

The high-end Japanese takeout was worth eighteen thousand. I held it with both hands and handed it to the customer with the utmost respect.

But when I lifted my eyes, I saw my boyfriend-who should have been in therapy-standing in the doorway, staring at me in utter shock.

Jiang Li starts in hell, in a mental hospital, her money embezzled by her stepmother, and her boyfriend taken away by her stepsister. Now, she is unexpectedly caught up in a supernatural side quest, confronting the bizarre head-on…

A strange voice filled with malice says: “Please select the most important thing in your life.”

With sincere eyes, Jiang Li replies, “Family! Without them, there would be no me now!”

“Now officially entering the first side quest: Horror Anniversary. The mortality rate is extremely high, please prepare, chosen one.”

In the side quest, there are sounds of meat being chopped in the middle of the night, a toilet constantly flushing, and a long-haired woman hiding under the bed…

Is it a rhythm to kill? Hah, Jiang Li laughs instead of being scared. She doesn’t know if she will die, but they are definitely doomed. Facing the big screen, Jiang Li gently makes a “shh” gesture to her family. “My dear family, I wish you—Happy Death Anniversary.”