“What Miss Hong Kong? You really think winning a beauty pageant means you can rise from the branches and become a phoenix?”
“Big brother, this is the actress you insisted on marrying? She’s a complete disgrace to our family.”
So noisy…
The noise was making Song Wan’s head explode.
At twenty-four, she had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer during a routine checkup—already at the terminal stage by the time it was discovered.
She had barely held on for half a year before closing her eyes in unwillingness, surrounded by her parents and older brother.
Could it be… she hadn’t died after all?
The next second, a splitting headache hit Song Wan, and she couldn’t help crying out, ”It hurts…”
Strange memories flooded into her mind, and the life of another ”Song Wan” played out before her like a revolving lantern.
After a long while, Song Wan finally pieced it together—she had transmigrated into a book.
A bestselling novel called Back to the Eighties, Pampered in the Cold-Faced Tycoon’s Embrace.
Song Wan was the cannon-fodder ex-wife of the male lead, Huo Jingheng. She had dazzled everyone at the 1978 Miss Hong Kong pageant.
To protect herself, she had thrown herself at Huo Jingheng and, luckily, married into a wealthy family.
Just two months after the wedding, she had gotten involved with a painter and planned to elope.
But after boarding the boat, they were unlucky enough to run into a violent storm, and she drowned at sea, her body never recovered.
Song Wan shivered. What a miserable fate.
No way. She had finally gotten a second chance at life—how could she let herself die so easily?
“Darling, aren’t you going to explain?”
A man’s deep voice sounded by her ear, and only then did Song Wan realize she was leaning against a man’s chest.
Before her eyes was a handsome face.
A sharp, well-defined jawline, perfectly structured features, water droplets sliding down along his jaw.
His lips were thin and somewhat pale, giving him a cold, unfeeling look.
His nose was high and straight, his breathing slightly quickened, his nostrils flaring gently.
His brow bone was high, and beneath his sword-like eyebrows were a pair of deep, black eyes.
At this moment, those eyes were fixed on her, without a trace of warmth.
This snapped the entranced Song Wan back to her senses.
In the original plot, today the original owner had sneaked out to buy boat tickets and been caught red-handed by the Huo siblings—Huo Jingheng and Huo Manting.
Panicking, the original owner had fallen into the water, and it was Huo Jingheng who had saved her.
Damn it. Why couldn’t she have transmigrated a few days earlier—why now?!
What should she do? The boat ticket was in her pocket. What excuse could she use to fool them?
Alarm bells rang in Song Wan’s head. Nervous, she tried to break free, and the man’s hands loosened accordingly. Caught off guard, Song Wan fell to the ground.
“See? I knew this woman was faking it. Look, she’s awake now.”
The speaker was Huo Manting, who looked not yet twenty, with delicate features and a striking appearance.
She wore a classic dark camel pure-wool double-faced coat over an Audrey Hepburn-style vintage plaid dress, paired with a matching headband and yellow flower earrings.
Dressed like a lady, but every word out of her mouth was filth.
In all her life, no one had ever dared to curse Song Wan to her face like this.
She stood up and stared straight at Huo Manting, startling the girl into taking a step back.
“What’s going on? This busybody is supposed to be weak and timid—she never dared to look me in the eye. Why is her gaze so terrifying now?”
Huo Manting realized she had been frightened into retreating by the girl’s stare and felt annoyed with herself.
“What are you looking at? Am I wrong?”
She stuck out her neck and said loudly, expecting Song Wan to argue back.
But in the blink of an eye, she saw Song Wan fall bonelessly into her brother’s arms, her voice sweet and coquettish.
“Honey, I’m so cold. Hold me~”
Her arms wrapped tightly around the man’s waist as she pressed herself against him.
Song Wan swore this was absolutely not her trying to take advantage—she was genuinely cold.
She had just been fished out of the water, dripping wet from head to toe.
If it weren’t for the overcoat draped over her, she would already be exposed.
But why was Huo Jingheng’s body so stiff? Was he about to push her away again?
No way!
Song Wan just wanted to muddle through this, so she hugged him even tighter and kept acting coquettish: “Honey, let’s go home.”
Huo Manting had never seen Song Wan act like such a green tea schemer, and she was too shocked to speak. “You—you have no shame! How can you call him that?”
“Honey” was an extremely intimate term of address, a commoner’s slang in Hong Kong City.
Though Song Wan came from a humble background, she was the properly married First Madam of the Huo family.
Calling him that in public would only make people think she had lost her status and breeding.
Fortunately, the bodyguards had surrounded the three of them in a circle, keeping everyone else away.
So only Huo Manting heard it.
Huo Jingheng suddenly spoke up. “Go home? Of course we can.”
Song Wan was delighted. Had she really muddled through?
The next second, Huo Jingheng lifted her chin, his eyes seeming to see right through her.
“Before that, my dear, would you care to explain why there’s a ferry ticket in your pocket?”
A ferry ticket had suddenly appeared in Huo Jingheng’s hand—the departure time was tonight.
Gulp. Song Wan nervously swallowed.
Her eyes showed no panic; instead, they radiated sincerity. “I bought that ticket for someone.”
Thank goodness it was still the seventies—Hong Kong City had no real-name registration system, so there was no name on the ticket.
“Really, that person is a childhood friend of mine. He has no parents and no money, and I figured since we were friends, I’d buy him a ticket.”
The statement was seven parts true, three parts false.
The painter in the original story really had been the original owner’s childhood friend.
She really had bought him a ferry ticket too—but not one ticket, two.
The remaining one must have been lost when she fell into the water.
Tears welled up in Song Wan’s eyes as she gazed at Huo Jingheng, glistening. “You don’t believe me.”
Her tone carried an accusation, her chin slightly raised, her neck stretched long.
A single tear slid perfectly down her cheek, all the way to the tip of her chin.
Seeing this, Huo Manting panicked. “Big Brother, she’s definitely lying!”
Song Wan bit her lower lip lightly and turned her face away. “Wanting is right. I was lying. I’ve disgraced the Huo family.”
Tears fell slowly, one by one, crystal clear.
Huo Manting was smug, thinking she had won. “Brother, you see, this drama queen has admitted it. Divorce her quickly and marry Sister Lin.”
At that name, Song Wan’s ears twitched slightly. The male lead’s childhood sweetheart—Lin Shumin?
This woman had more screen time than Song Wan herself, but she was a vicious female supporting character whose ending was also miserable.
Forget it—her own life was on the line, and she still had spare energy to worry about others?
Seeing that her tear offensive had no effect on the male lead, Song Wan immediately switched tactics.
She sniffled a few times, then coquettishly whimpered at Huo Jingheng with an aggrieved look, “Really? You can throw me away—but what about the baby in my belly? Will you throw that away too?”
A thunderclap on a calm day.
Huo Manting clapped a hand over her mouth in exaggerated shock. This busybody was pregnant?
Since when? How come she didn’t know?
Huo Jingheng froze. “Are you sure?”
He stared at the woman in his arms with a smile that wasn’t quite a smile.
Little did he know, Song Wan had no confidence at all.
The original owner hadn’t had her period in two months, and she’d been feeling nauseous these past few days, but she’d been so immersed in Chen Bowen’s sweet words that she hadn’t paid it any mind.
Now Song Wan was gambling—if she really was pregnant, this game of chess would come alive.
So what if the Huo family didn’t care about her? Surely they couldn’t ignore a child?
Compared to other wealthy families in Hong Kong City, the Huo family had few descendants.
Huo Jingheng’s father had a principal wife, a second concubine, and countless mistresses outside, yet all together they had only three children.
The next second, Song Wan was swept off her feet, carried into the car by Huo Jingheng. “To the Hong Kong Sanatorium & Hospital.”