Song Xinran had never imagined such a thing would happen to her.
She had actually transmigrated into a novel, and what’s more, she had become the cannon fodder biological mother of the male supporting character.
The male supporting character was named Song Yu. His parents died early, and he had been raised by his aunt since childhood. His family was poor when he was young, and his aunt had her own children, so she could give him even less. He never had enough to eat or wear, nor did he receive much affection.
Song Yu was a sensible child. Knowing the family’s financial situation was poor, he always worked hard to earn money. At a young age, he already knew to collect bottles and sell scrap. In the scorching summer heat, he would walk a long distance to the recycling station, only to earn a few cents. When he returned, drenched in sweat with his small face flushed red from the sun, the money he earned would be snatched away by his aunt’s child—his cousin—before it even had a chance to warm his pocket.
His cousin would take Song Yu’s money to buy ice cream, eating it with great relish. Song Yu would stand nearby, clutching the faded edges of his washed-out clothes, swallowing his saliva but not daring to say a word. He knew that his stay at his cousin’s house had already cost his aunt a lot of money. Without him, his cousin would have a better life.
His uncle favored his cousin, buying him new clothes every New Year, while Song Yu could only wear his cousin’s hand-me-downs. Due to malnutrition in his early years, Song Yu had always been thinner and smaller than his cousin.
Song Yu grew up in such a family environment—with a weak aunt and a biased uncle. During the most critical period of childhood when he needed care and affection the most, he received insufficient love, which later led him to develop a secret crush on the female lead after she showed him a little kindness.
Later, when the female lead became entangled in emotional conflicts with the male lead and was wronged and hurt, Song Yu was always the first to appear by her side, comforting and accompanying her, forever her steadfast support.
But even such a gentle, moonlight-like second male lead had his moment of turning dark. It happened when Song Yu discovered that the reason his aunt’s family had raised him was for the compensation money issued by the factory after his mother’s death.
After turning dark, the male supporting character severed all ties with his aunt’s family and stopped giving them a single cent, causing his cousin’s family to fall apart over money disputes.
In the end, Song Yu died while saving the female lead, leaving readers in tears.
At Song Yu’s funeral, not a single relative showed up. Because he had cut ties with his aunt’s family, they deeply resented him and forbade anyone from mentioning his name. Since Song Yu’s parents had died early and he had no other relatives, he departed this world utterly alone.
After finishing the novel, Song Xinran vented her frustration in the comments section: “What era is this? How can such a gentle second male lead not even get a seat at the table? Does he have to die to become the moonlight?”
Then, she woke up one day to find herself transmigrated into this novel, over a decade before the main plot began. The moonlight-like male supporting character, Song Yu, was just over three years old. His father had died two years prior, and his mother had just passed away.
But technically, she wasn’t dead yet…
Song Xinran touched her hand as she thought this.
A lingering ache of sorrow remained in her chest, as if left behind by the original host. Song Xinran silently vowed in her heart, “I will take good care of Song Yu.”
As if hearing her promise, the ache slowly faded, and a gentle breeze softly brushed against her cheek.
Song Xinran couldn’t hold back a cough, then bent over and coughed heavily several times, feeling as if her heart was about to leap out of her throat. A bitter taste rose in her mouth.
Song Xinran quickly took a deep breath, managing to calm down a little. She picked up the water glass beside her and took a sip, finally feeling somewhat better.
It seemed the original owner’s body wasn’t too different from her own.
Song Xinran had once possessed a healthy body, but a car accident had left her confined to bed every day.
Before the accident, she had been a chef—a rare profession for women—yet Song Xinran had excelled in it. Everyone who tasted her cooking praised it enthusiastically. She had earned enough money and was preparing to open her own restaurant when, while scouting locations, the accident occurred.
Her parents wept daily. Not wanting to add to their sorrow, Song Xinran put on a brave and cheerful front, insisting it was no big deal. After all, she had plenty of money; even if she never worked again, the interest alone would suffice for her future. She just needed to follow the doctor’s orders, and eventually, she would recover. Their family would remain intact forever.
Confined to bed and unable to pursue her passions, Song Xinran found a new pastime: reading novels. It was simple, requiring neither physical nor mental effort. Seeing her like this, her parents finally felt somewhat relieved.
In the older generation’s belief, a person’s spirit is crucial—having something to do helps one recover.
But Song Xinran did not get better. After one surgery, her condition deteriorated severely. The last novel she read before dying was the one featuring the male supporting character, Song Yu.
Who would have thought…
Song Xinran cherished the touch of her own legs and hands. She felt incredibly fortunate to have been given a second chance.
There was no going back now. She could only hope her parents wouldn’t grieve too much, and she would cherish this new life.
Song Xinran stood up but immediately felt dizzy. The original owner’s body was too weak, and the factory work was too strenuous, which was why she had died during a break from failing to catch her breath.
Supporting her frail body, she made herself a cup of sugar water.
Actually, glucose powder would have been more effective than ordinary sugar, but when Song Xinran looked up, she saw that in this shabby dormitory, there was no glucose to be found—even this bit of sugar was something she had only discovered after careful searching. The box contained just two remaining cubes.
Sipping the sugar water slowly, Song Xinran finally felt revived. Though still very weak, at least her legs no longer trembled when she stood. She couldn’t help but smile—the feeling of being able to stand was truly wonderful. But the next moment, her hands itched with the desire to cook something.
Song Xinran had become a chef not only because of her skill but also because she loved the process. Cooking brought her a sense of accomplishment and joy.
After the accident, she hadn’t cooked for six months in the hospital, and now she was eager to start again.
However, her empty stomach reminded her that replenishing energy was more urgent. Factories like this usually had a canteen. Glancing at the old-fashioned clock in the dormitory, she saw it was 12:20 PM—the canteen probably hadn’t closed yet.
Just as she was about to leave, the dormitory door opened, and two young women in their twenties, wearing work uniforms, walked in.
“The food at the canteen today was really delicious, especially that Spicy Mala Noodles—so flavorful, my mouth still feels tingly.”
“Yeah, it’s the end of the month, so the canteen finally put together a feast. They even served Boiled Fish Fillets in Chili Oil and scrambled eggs with tomatoes.”
“I’m so full.”
The short-haired girl exclaimed with delight upon seeing Song Xinran, “You’re awake! Are you feeling better? Hurry to the cafeteria—Class Three just headed over when we left.”
The girl with braids was about to speak when she noticed the empty candy box on the table and immediately cried out, “Song Xinran, you ate all my candy!”
So it was her roommate’s candy…
Song Xinran apologized, “I’m sorry, I was so weak when I woke up that I drank some sugar water.”
The braided girl retorted, “If you were weak, you should’ve gone to eat! You know how expensive this candy is.”
The short-haired girl interjected, “Xiao Sha, Xinran isn’t greedy—she must’ve been unwell. Besides, we all chipped in for this box, so it’s fine if she has some.”
Xiao Sha shot her a glare, “We already divided it up! This is premium candy, thirty yuan a box! We haven’t been paid in two months, and I can’t even afford other snacks now.”
Song Xinran offered, “I’ll pay you back, alright? I was really dizzy and just grabbed the candy to make sugar water.”
Xiao Sha sneered, “You have money? You’re usually so stingy you won’t even buy tissues, and now you have cash?”
Song Xinran checked her pockets—indeed empty. She fell silent, never having experienced such poverty before.
The short-haired girl said, “Alright, Xiao Yi, I’ll share mine with you. Xinran, don’t just stand there—go eat before the braised pork runs out.”
Song Xinran glanced at the name tags on their uniforms: the short-haired girl was Chen Jingfang, the long-braided girl was Xu Sha.
She said, “Thank you both. I’ll go eat now.”
Song Xinran knew explanations were pointless—without capability, promises meant nothing. But facts spoke for themselves, needing no words to be believed.
Weak and frail, her priority was replenishing energy.
Carrying her lunchbox, Song Xinran left the dorm and followed other workers heading to the cafeteria with empty containers.
Only Chen Jingfang remained in the room. Xu Sha snorted, “At least she remembered her manners today and thanked us.”
Chen Jingfang defended, “Xinran’s just quiet, but she’s not a bad person.”
Xu Sha curled her lip, “She’s always gloomy and never talks to us. With a three- or four-year-old kid at home—who knows what she’s doing? Married before even becoming an adult.”
Chen Jingfang chided gently, “Her family’s struggling. Don’t say things like that in front of her—it’ll upset her.”
Xu Sha huffed, “I know. I wasn’t happy about sharing a dorm with her initially. Glad you’re here though—now give me some candy!”
Chen Jingfang laughed, “Alright, here you go. You’re always the one with the sweet tooth.”
Song Xinran finally reached the cafeteria with the crowd. Sharp-eyed, she spotted a worker leaving the line with a full container of spicy fish and immediately darted toward that spot.
Soon after, Song Xinran happily settled at an empty table, clutching a brimming aluminum lunchbox.
Nearby, someone remarked between mouthfuls, “The cafeteria food’s especially good today—even better than my home cooking.”
“Rumor is they hired a new chef. Plus, it’s the last day of the month—perfect for a feast.”
“It’s been two months without pay, but today we’re finally treating ourselves. This meal outside probably costs eight or nine yuan.”
Listening to everyone’s chatter, Song Xinran couldn’t help but swallow. During her hospital stay, she had eaten carefully prepared nutritional meals every day – nutritious by definition, but completely lacking in any spicy or flavorful elements. And Song Xinran was someone who couldn’t enjoy food without spice.
Those six months had left her taste buds utterly deprived, but to avoid worrying her parents, she pretended to enjoy the meals. Only she knew about the tears she cried inside.
Now that she could finally taste some spice, Song Xinran was so excited she nearly cried.
However, since her current body was rather weak, she had prepared a bowl of soup to rinse the food in before eating. Besides the spicy dishes, she had also taken some tomato scrambled eggs – the eggs for protein and the mild vegetables being suitable to eat first.
Most workers at the glass factory were locals, and local cuisine tended toward the numbing-spicy flavor profile. Everyone could handle spice, including her current body’s original owner.
Song Xinran first sipped some cabbage soup. It was rather bland, without any oil, and the cabbage was overcooked.
But it was just soup – the cafeteria probably threw it together casually. Though it didn’t taste great, she didn’t doubt the other dishes that received so much praise from the workers.
Then she took a bite of the tomato scrambled eggs, and her delighted expression immediately stiffened.
Tomato scrambled eggs could be considered a very simple home-style dish. Making it edible was easy, but making it delicious was harder – most people’s versions were just passable.
Song Xinran thought that a dish praised by so many people should score at least eighty points. Golden, fluffy eggs with that wok aroma should be basic, right? Cooking the tomatoes until soft and coated in sauce with a slightly grainy texture wasn’t asking too much, was it? Having well-balanced saltiness and sweet-sour flavor seemed normal, right?
But this dish… Song Xinran chewed thoughtfully… was worse than her mother’s cooking. In her family, her mother was the culinary low point, followed by her father, while Song Xinran was the cooking champion.
“This tomato scrambled egg is really delicious! With rice, I think I could eat two big bowls!” came praise from workers at the next table.
“The chef’s skills are really good. How do they make it? I’ll cook it for my kids at home – it’ll definitely cure their picky eating.”
“Even though the factory hasn’t paid us for two months, I think I could endure another month for this new chef.”
“Hahaha, you greedy pig!”
…
Listening to the workers’ discussion, Song Xinran fell into deep confusion. Was this really it…?
Was this dish truly worthy of such high praise and admiration?
If she were cooking, would they be willing to work without pay forever?
Author’s note:
Starting a new story! This is a slice-of-life novel about eating, drinking, and earning money to raise kids. Hope everyone enjoys it! [Throws flowers]
Upcoming: “Monster Small Restaurant” – Food + Mysticism, an uplifting wish-fulfillment story
Shuidi descended the mountain.
Before leaving, her friends gave her many warnings.
The fox gave her a fur collar made from shed fur: “Humans down the mountain are cunning – be careful!”
The black wolf offered a fallen tooth: “There are many monsters in human society. Take my baby tooth – it wards off evil!”
The radish spirit plucked a root hair: “If you run out of money, you can pretend this is ginseng and sell it.”
…
During the farewell, all the mountain folk tearfully waved goodbye: “Remember us when you prosper!”
Shuidi clenched her fist: “I won’t forget you!”
She vowed to carve out a new world in the new century.
After immense effort, Shui Di finally opened a restaurant.
Three hundred for a glass of water, five hundred for a bowl of noodles, a thousand for a plate of fish…
From having no customers to being unable to meet demand, Shui Di achieved it all in just one month.
The day she started making money, Shui Di immediately called back to the mountains: “Friends, I think I’ve struck it rich! Come and enjoy the good life!”
A small eatery opened in the prime location of the city’s CBD, its simple and unadorned decor attracting many.
“Sorry to bother you.”
But one day, people noticed the little restaurant was bustling with activity—even top celebrities and business tycoons were flocking there, just for a single meal.
Everyone: ???
What kind of magic does this utterly ordinary little restaurant possess?!
A certain business tycoon had been plagued by terrible luck lately: failed investments, betrayal by friends, and a seriously ill child.
One late night after working overtime, he happened to see a small restaurant with its lights still on. Almost as if guided by some unseen force, he walked in and ate a bowl of outrageously priced plain noodles.
The owner, a young woman, sat down and said, “You’ve had your luck Borrowed, but after eating my noodles, your fortune will naturally return.”
The tycoon, a firm believer in science, smiled and left.
The next day, his failed project miraculously revived, his treacherous friend went bankrupt, and his child showed signs of recovery!
The tycoon: “A miracle worker!”
Other examples included:
An overworked office worker filled with so much resentment they fantasized daily about harming their colleagues drank a glass of water and instantly felt clear-headed and refreshed;
A chronically unlucky person who could trip over flat ground ate a bowl of noodles and won ten thousand cash right after stepping out;
A minor celebrity under a death curse drank a bowl of porridge and suddenly felt they could live another hundred years!
…
The unassuming little restaurant exploded in popularity, with countless people desperately flocking there just to get one meal.
Shui Di closed the door and hung up a sign: “Water sold out for today! Only plain congee available now at 1998!”
Shui Di shrugged: “No choice—gotta raise a whole mountain full of supernatural beings, so prices have to go up.”