Hard-Working Protagonist

I came second in the imperial examinations.

The first-place winner was the sort of swaggering hero who conquered everything in his path.

He spent his days drinking, writing poetry, and visiting brothels.

The third-place winner was the hero of an erotic novel.

He spent his days sleeping with princes and generals.

Once I became a censor, I worked overtime every day impeaching the two of them, until my face turned sallow and my eyes were ringed with blue.

Then I checked my pay at the end of the month: ten taels of silver.

Furious, I threw down my memorials, picked up my brush, and started a side business: Episode One: “The Third-Place Scholar Charms in Women’s Clothes; the First-Place Scholar Spends a Fortune for His Smile.”

I’d been devious since I was little.

In primary school, my parents planned a holiday with just my brother.

Right before they left, I slipped Mum’s phone into the dirty laundry and threw it in the washing machine.

The phone was a washout.

So was the holiday.

In high school, some girls formed a clique and froze me out.

I made a fake account, posed as a tall, rich, handsome boy, and flirted with every one of them.

When they confessed their feelings, I acted torn.

“You’re lovely, but your best friend has been so good to me too.”

“Honestly, I don’t know what to do.”

The clique fell apart from within.

They kept sabotaging one another until graduation.

But I’d never shown that side of myself to my boyfriend, Xu Lang.

Until he started constantly mentioning an innocent younger student.

“You have no idea how clueless Meng Yuan is.

She can’t even find her way around outside.

I’m afraid someone will sell her off and she’ll help them count the money.”

I knew what this was.

Xu Lang’s attention was wandering.

It wasn’t quite cheating, but it was unpleasant enough.

I said nothing.

Xu Lang was an only child whose family’s wealth ran to ten figures in yuan.

No one was getting between me and that prize.

The day I gave birth, the situation was critical.

I begged Zhang Shuai to sign the consent form for a C-section, but his mother wouldn’t allow it.

Through the door, he shouted anxiously, “Zhaozhao, try a little harder, you can definitely give birth naturally.”

In the end, I suffered an amniotic fluid embolism and both mother and child died.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at fifteen.

Zhang Shuai stopped me at the entrance of the village: “Zhaozhao, I heard you’re going to Vocational School too?”

On a family reality show, superstar Lu Ling was the pampered heiress from Jiangsu, Zhejiang, and Shanghai, and award-winning actress Shen Fan was the Northeast’s eldest daughter.

Unremarkable me?

I was there to make them look good.

My family wasn’t helping.

In the trailer, their elders showered them with money or love.

My grandma kept telling me to quit showbiz.

“Girls should stay home.

They shouldn’t work.”

The internet tore into her.

[Another old relic.]

Then the full episode aired.

What Grandma had actually said was: “Why not just spend my pension?”

“By the time I’m gone, your dad should be retired.

You can spend his next.”

“I’ve been paying your social insurance at the highest contribution level.”

“By the time your parents are both gone, you’ll be collecting your own pension.”

The internet changed its tune instantly.

[People like this terrify me.]

[Don’t they say whatever you fear comes your way?]

Before I even married my husband, I already owed his family a life.

His elder brother had died in an accident while working away from home to save up for my husband’s wedding.

On our wedding night, my husband dragged me to his brother’s grave and forced me to kowtow.

“If it weren’t for you, my brother wouldn’t be dead.”

“You’ll spend the rest of your life paying for it.”

After that, I worked in the fields all day and waited on his entire family at night.

Whenever he drank, he beat me.

I fled to my mother’s house.

She held me and cried all night.

The next morning, she pushed me toward the door.

“Go back.”

“Your sister-in-law doesn’t want you staying here.

There’s nothing I can do.”

“Just bear it.

Once he’s old and too weak to hit you, your life will be over anyway.”

But I didn’t want to bear it anymore.

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.

My youngest aunt was the most notorious woman in our entire family.

Grandma and Grandpa had worked hard to raise her, put her through school, and even arranged a marriage for her.

Yet she had cut them off and run away from home.

Mom was always telling me, “When you grow up, you must be good to your parents.

Don’t ever turn out like your aunt.”

Back then, nobody could have imagined that I would grow up to be even more ruthless than she was.

On the night before she joins her boyfriend’s startup, Wen Xiyue receives a call from herself twelve years in the future.

He will become a billionaire, but she will spend those years running his errands and surrendering her own ambitions.

Her future self has one urgent warning: take the developer job instead.

This time, Xiyue chooses her own career—and refuses to let the man who wants her talent steal her future.

When my mother married Wang the Mute, she was already carrying me.

Everyone in the neighborhood had advice for him.

Some told him to get rid of the bastard with a strong dose of medicine.

Others told him to write a divorce letter and throw my mother out.

Wang only smiled, turned around, and sent for the best midwife for miles.

Then I was born.