Huo Manting, foolish as she was, had actually stumped Song Wan with that question.
In the original story, Song Wan had been drugged by a group of wealthy men and had struggled her way out.
To protect herself, she had thrown herself at Huo Jingheng to escape the others’ pursuit.
She never expected that Huo Jingheng would actually marry her.
Strangely, though, the original owner of this body only remembered escaping and running into Huo Jingheng that night. As for what happened afterward, she remembered nothing at all.
The outside world rumored that Huo Jingheng had fallen at Song Wan’s feet, and in front of others, he certainly acted that way.
But the truth was, the two of them rarely had any time alone together after marriage.
Huo Jingheng was very busy, gone day and night. Aside from that one night, he had hardly ever touched Song Wan again.
“I was careless,” Song Wan thought ruefully. The original owner’s memories were too muddled—how could she have forgotten something so important, leaving herself with such a vulnerability?
Come to think of it, the timing didn’t quite match up with that night either.
Seeing Song Wan momentarily speechless and unable to explain, Huo Manting strutted like a victorious rooster. “Big Brother, a woman like Song Wan—an actress like her—is nothing but trouble to bring into the family.”
She was all but saying outright that the child in Song Wan’s belly definitely wasn’t Big Brother’s.
The Huo Family had always been sparse in descendants, with single heirs passed down for generations.
It was only in the grandfather’s generation that there were two sons and a daughter—and even Second Uncle was born of a concubine.
By Huo Jingheng’s generation, his father Huo Zhenbang had countless mistresses, yet only three children.
The lawful wife, Luo Shuyi, had only one son—Huo Jingheng, the eldest grandson of this generation.
The second concubine bore Third Young Master Huo Jingxin.
Huo Manting’s birth mother was the third concubine, who died young due to poor health. As a result, Huo Manting was raised by the first wife and grew especially close to Big Brother Huo Jingheng.
The Second Master of the Huo Family was a playboy. His wife, née Bai, was neglected by him and died of melancholy.
He had only one child, Huo Jingzhao, known to the world as Second Young Master Huo.
Compared to other wealthy families, the Huo Family had few members—the youngest generation numbered only four, and Huo Manting was the only girl.
That was why she was so pampered at home, spoiled and willful, afraid of nothing and no one—except Big Brother Huo Jingheng.
Just like now: with a single glance from Huo Jingheng, Huo Manting swallowed the rest of her words, not daring to say them aloud.
The doctor nearby was sweating profusely and hurried to explain, “Pregnancy is calculated from the first day of the last menstrual period, so a discrepancy is perfectly normal.”
This was the first Song Wan had heard of it—she had always assumed it was counted from the time of conception.
Following how it was done in TV dramas, she steadied her lower back and asked cautiously:
“Doctor, I just fell into the water and caught a chill. The baby will be all right, won’t it?”
“Just now I felt short of breath and tightness in my chest—it won’t affect the baby, will it?”
At that moment, the doctor deeply regretted being so eager to come forward today. He wiped his cold sweat.
“There shouldn’t be any serious problem. The examination just now went smoothly—the babies are very healthy.”
Song Wan’s voice was gentle. “Thank you, Doctor. With your reassurance, I can rest easy.”
“I’ve heard that pregnant women shouldn’t get angry—it can even cause miscarriage in severe cases. I was just too anxious.”
As she said this, she glanced meaningfully at Huo Manting.
Huo Manting’s teeth itched with hatred. What was this actress playing at? So what if she was pregnant? Nothing to be so smug about.
“I’m a bit sleepy. I’d like to go home and rest,” Song Wan said. She couldn’t be bothered to keep sparring with her sister-in-law, so she tugged at Huo Jingheng’s arm and cooed sweetly.
One moment she’d been lying in a hospital bed, the next she was locked in a battle of wits with this brother-and-sister pair. She was genuinely exhausted, and couldn’t help letting out a yawn.
Huo Jingheng nodded. “Let’s go home first.”
Inside the car, Song Wan couldn’t fight off her drowsiness and began to nod off.
In a haze, she seemed to feel a pillow beneath her and couldn’t help nuzzling against it.
Her braid brushed against the collar of Huo Jingheng’s suit, the satin ribbon slipping down to rest loosely on his lapel.
Song Wan’s breathing grew long and steady, her chest rising and falling gently with each breath.
Her brows relaxed, the wariness and alertness from earlier gone.
The driver glanced in the rearview mirror and tactfully slowed the car down even further.
Huo Jingheng remained seated, not moving a muscle.
He lowered his eyes, his gaze resting on her peaceful face.
The night lights of Hong Kong City blazed brilliantly. As the streetlights flashed past, half of Huo Jingheng’s face was lit and half in shadow, his expression unreadable.
The driver pulled into No. 23 Sassoon Road in the Southern District—a castle-style standalone mansion that Huo Zhenbang had purchased eight years ago, covering roughly three thousand square meters.
The main building had three floors and housed three generations of the Huo Family.
When the car came to a stop, Huo Jingheng said, “We’re here.”
Song Wan didn’t wake. Her head was still resting on his shoulder, and she mumbled something no one could make out.
The driver had already opened the door. Huo Jingheng picked Song Wan up, carried her through the hall, and returned to their bedroom.
The nanny came over silently, changed Song Wan into her nightclothes without waking her.
Huo Jingheng glanced at the sleeping Song Wan and gently closed the door behind him.
“Young Master, the Old Master wants you in the study.”
“I know.” Huo Jingheng was always courteous in front of the servants.
Inside the room, Song Wan, who had supposedly been fast asleep, suddenly opened her eyes.
“Whew, finally some peace and quiet.”
Actually, she had already woken up when Huo Jingheng called her earlier, but since she didn’t know what to say, she simply pretended to be asleep.
Huo Jingheng had been summoned by his father and wouldn’t be back for a while.
This gave Song Wan her chance to secretly destroy the boat ticket the original owner had bought.
It was also at this moment that Song Wan discovered a red mole on her wrist.
“Strange—how is this mole exactly the same as mine?”
In her previous life, Song Wan had an identical birthmark, in the exact same spot.
She touched it instinctively, and the next second, her consciousness entered a strange Spatial Dimension.
Song Wan froze for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Hahaha, I knew it! How could transmigrating into a book come without a golden cheat?!”
Who knew how panicked she’d been when she first arrived, with no system notifications and no Spatial Dimension.
This was Hong Kong City in the 1970s, after all—an extremely chaotic time.
She hadn’t expected to enter through the birthmark on her wrist.
The only pity was that only her consciousness could enter.
The Spatial Dimension wasn’t large—just a dozen or so square meters.
There was no fertile soil for farming, but in the very center of the space was a small pool of water.
“So this must be the legendary Spirit Spring.”
But she didn’t drink it rashly. Her little life was precious—better to test it and confirm it was safe first.
Other than that, there was nothing else in the space.
When Song Wan’s consciousness withdrew from the Spatial Dimension, her anxious heart finally settled.
Even if Huo Jingheng later forced her to step aside for the female lead, with three children, plus the Spatial Dimension and Spirit Spring, her life wouldn’t be too bad.
With something to rely on, Song Wan could finally sleep soundly.
That night, Huo Jingheng didn’t come back—no one knew what he was off doing.
As the unvalued eldest daughter-in-law of the Huo Family, Song Wan had only one regular servant by her side, Fang Jie.
She was in her thirties, a little short, with a kind face.
In the original owner’s memories, this was one of the servants who treated Song Wan slightly better than the others.
Seeing that Song Wan had finally gotten up, she let out a long breath of relief. “Madam, you’re up at last. Second Young Master and Third Young Miss have already gone to pay their respects to Old Mrs. Huo. Please hurry.”
Paying respects?
Hearing that phrase, Song Wan almost thought she’d been transported back to feudal society.
Only then did she remember that the Huo Family had deep-rooted traditions. Huo Jingheng’s grandmother was the most senior member of the household, much like Grandmother Jia in Dream of the Red Chamber.
On the first and fifteenth of each month, all the younger members of the family would pay their respects to her, and everyone would share a reunion meal together.
The original owner used to get up the earliest, yet in the eyes of the Huo Family, she was still treated like an invisible person.
“What time is it?” Song Wan asked casually.
Fang Jie answered with some difficulty, “It’s almost seven already.”
Song Wan jumped up in shock. “Am I late?”
With no time to fix herself up, Song Wan changed into a presentable outfit and hurried downstairs. She walked quickly to her mother-in-law’s side, waiting to pay respects to Old Mrs. Huo.
Huo Manting, holding onto Luo Shuyi’s arm, began to sow discord. “Some people have been awfully arrogant since marrying into the family less than two months ago—late even for paying respects to Grandmother.”
Song Wan lowered her eyes and said nothing.
Her mother-in-law, Luo Shuyi, disliked glib talkers the most. If she tried to explain herself now, it would only invite trouble.
But while she didn’t want to make a fuss, others weren’t willing to let her off so easily.
“Don’t you agree, Sister-in-law?”