Lin Yulan’s worldview completely collapsed!
“No, no, no… you’re wrong! It was Qin Nancheng who wrote to me—all along, it’s been Qin Nancheng sending me love letters!”
She cried and shouted, her eyes bloodshot, almost hysterical:
“Haojie wouldn’t lie to me—he’s my own brother!”
Unfortunately, this Lin Haojie was not the Lin Haojie she thought he was.
Lin Yulan, being from this era, reacted this way to the truth—it was understandable.
Of course, Lin Xiwei wasn’t foolish enough to tell her the real truth.
For one, Lin Haojie was a time-traveler—far too unbelievable for Lin Yulan, and she wouldn’t believe it even if told.
For another, why would Lin Xiwei reveal anything for no reason? That would expose her identity as a reborn person.
Thirdly, letting the family fight among themselves—dog-eat-dog, internal chaos—was Lin Xiwei’s ultimate goal.
“Lin Yulan, not every eligible Lin family girl has the chance to marry Qin Nancheng. I’ve told you this before.”
Lin Xiwei didn’t mind rubbing salt into Lin Yulan’s already wounded heart:
“My bond with Qin Nancheng stems from our mothers’ sworn sisterhood. The children’s betrothal began through our mothers’ friendship. That scumbag of a father and Lin Haojie played you around, but hid this most crucial piece of information.”
Lin Yulan painfully tore at her hair, wanting to blame Lin Xiwei but not knowing how.
Lin Xiwei, however, felt nothing but satisfaction!
In her past life, she had been paralyzed for thirty years, and Lin Yulan had repeatedly come to flaunt herself, verbally abusing and mocking her.
Terms like “paralyzed hag,” “ugly freak,” “bedsores old woman,” “mummy heiress trapped between life and death”… had drilled into Lin Xiwei’s soul like steel nails.
That deep, searing pain made her unwilling to show Lin Yulan even a shred of mercy:
“Want to get back at Lin Haojie? I’ll tell you the most effective way—report him.”
Lin Yulan, in her state of utter helplessness, lifted her eyes sharply and asked:
“How… report him?”
Lin Xiwei’s heart leapt a little. She pointed at the envelope in her hand:
“See this red stamp? Go to this city office, report Lin Haojie for forging official documents of an important military officer, deceiving you for two whole years, and causing irreparable damage to both your mental health and the reputation of that officer.”
…
Lin Yulan, having been fed Lin Xiwei’s “poisonous motivational soup,” returned to the group with her mind heavy with thoughts.
Lin Xiwei calmly watched her go, thinking:
“You’re just a paper tiger. Don’t expect you to really strike Lin Haojie—there’s no hope there.”
Her prediction was correct. Lin Yulan didn’t confront Lin Haojie even after leaving the Lin mansion.
Lin Haojie, on the other hand, anxiously asked what had happened:
“Did Lin Xiwei talk trash about me to you?”
Fu Cuilian, devoted entirely to her son, rolled her eyes and joined in psychologically manipulating Lin Yulan:
“Yulan? Yulan! Don’t be half-dead! Mom tells you, Lin Xiwei isn’t a good person. Don’t trust anything she says. We are the family you should rely on.”
Lin Yulan’s ears practically blocked out their words. Her mind was a mess, weighing whether she should confront Lin Haojie.
She was jealous of Lin Xiwei!
She hated Lin Haojie for hiding the truth all these years and playing her like a puppet.
Yet, when it came to reporting Lin Haojie, she had neither the courage nor the desire.
After all, her “brother” was someone she had raised herself. Despite Fu Cuilian’s blatant favoritism toward sons, Lin Yulan still felt familial affection for him.
It was just that this Lin Haojie was no longer the same boy she had once nurtured.
The four of them had nowhere else to go, so they temporarily stayed overnight in the gallery.
Fu Cuilian, along with Lin Juying, prepared the basement as a temporary bedroom for the three of them.
Lin Haojie, being a man, slept in the corner of the gallery for the time being.
Lin Yulan, unwilling to let go, came over to Lin Haojie, kicking the cardboard he was lying on:
“I’m asking you, those letters…”
“They were Dad’s idea.” Lin Haojie’s mind was full of schemes. After all, Lin Chengyou was dead, so blaming their late father was perfect—he couldn’t contradict.
“He’s been set on returning to the city and has been preparing so diligently all these years—you know that.”
Fearing Lin Yulan wouldn’t believe him, Lin Haojie added:
“The one actually writing the letters to you was Dad’s old friend in Kyoto. How could I have that skill or know the literati of Kyoto?”
“Sis, don’t be mad at Dad. Which parent doesn’t plan for their children?”
“He wanted you to marry Qin Nancheng so that, once you married up, you could help us along too.”
“If you rise high, and my second sister rises high, then we can benefit from your success.”
At this moment, Lin Haojie seemed to have reverted to his naive, obedient self—the younger brother Lin Yulan remembered.
The more he acted like this, the more excruciating it was for Lin Yulan, her frustration having no outlet.
Inside Lin Haojie’s body, however, sat an old, cunning soul. His eyes twitched with a sly idea:
“Did Lin Xiwei bad-mouth me?”
Lin Yulan’s emotions wavered, and she cried, complaining:
“Why are you so mean? You colluded with Dad and caused me so much misery—boohoo!”
Lin Haojie smiled awkwardly, soothing his “adopted” older sister on the surface, while inwardly calculating how much use he could still make of her:
“Qin Nancheng is completely out of reach for her. The Lin family won’t recognize her as a granddaughter, and controlling her into marrying a useful man… that might be tricky. Worst of all, her emotions are extremely unstable right now.”
…
Lin Haojie coaxed Lin Yulan gently, secretly plotting how to exploit her.
Lin Yulan sniffled and hiccupped, gradually calming down. She stood, brushed off her clothes, and said:
“I’m leaving. You all take care of yourselves from now on.”
Lin Haojie’s heart skipped a beat. He jumped up and asked:
“Where are you going?”
“Back to school,” Lin Yulan said, sniffling, her voice muffled:
“Lin Xiwei is so capable. No matter how jealous I am, it won’t help. Her grades are better than mine—if I want to surpass or restrain her, I need to study diligently.”
Lin Haojie’s face darkened, a glint of ruthlessness flashing in his eyes.
It seemed this chess piece—Lin Yulan—was slipping from his control.
Lin Yulan, having been admitted to the Teachers’ College, received a five-yuan monthly allowance, easily supporting herself.
After graduation, she would also have guaranteed job placement.
To Lin Haojie, this was a heavy blow!
Such a valuable “blood resource” as Lin Yulan, if she couldn’t be used by him, might as well be destroyed…
“Since Yulan is striving to improve, I might as well lend a little help,” Lin Haojie thought, another crooked idea forming:
“I want to visit the Lin mansion and borrow a few books—professional ones related to your major—to help you progress quickly.”
Lin Yulan frowned suspiciously:
“We’re not Lin family descendants. Will they lend you anything?”
“Who says we aren’t?” Lin Haojie stubbornly refused to back down. “We definitely are Lin family descendants!”
He led Lin Yulan out of the gallery, continuing to brainwash his “adopted” sister:
“If we weren’t Lin family descendants, wouldn’t Dad have noticed all these years? It’s all just Lin Xiwei spreading rumors, and Grandpa was fooled by her.”
Lin Yulan innocently agreed:
“Yes! Grandpa was too grief-stricken. Once he recovers, he’ll review the whole situation carefully. Hopefully, he’ll let us back home.”
Yet, the more she spoke, the less confidence she had—Fu Cuilian’s attitude made their supposed Lin family identities feel very fake.
Lin Haojie, pretending to be the model filial son, walked Lin Yulan back.
Upon entering the Lin mansion grounds, he suddenly acted up:
“Hiss, sis, my stomach hurts a bit. You wait here a moment while I go relieve myself.”
Lin Yulan laughed and scolded:
“Lazy donkey! You pee so much at the mill—go and come back quickly.”
She leaned against a ginkgo tree, waiting for Lin Haojie to return.
A few minutes later, footsteps approached, rustling over the thick layer of ginkgo leaves.
“Back? Let’s go…”
Before Lin Yulan could finish, someone struck her from behind with a heavy blow.