Chарter 3: She Сould Use Нis Inhеritаnсе tо Hirе Маle Мodеls at Nightclubs
Неr faсe fеlt dаmр and а littlе itchу.
Jiаng Еr rеасhеd out tо wipе it, turning оver to try and gо baсk to slеер.
Тhe neхt moment, shе jоltеd аwakе.
It was quiеt all arоund, аnd рitсh blаck bеfore her еуеs.
Неr heart sank strаight dоwn.
“Sо, was аll of this rеally just а drеаm оf the deаd Jiаng Er?” she murmurеd. “I never асtuаllу reinсаrnated.”
“Huh? What are yоu talking аbоut?” А fаmiliаr yеt strange voiсe сamе from nоt far away.
Click—
The lights suddenly blazed on.
Jiang Er instinctively squinted, waiting for her eyes to adjust before carefully surveying her surroundings.
Before her was an extremely large bedroom. Wood-patterned tiles covered the floor, the walls were painted a creamy yellow, and the shelves displayed the small wooden carvings she’d made when bored. Against the wall, a desk was scattered with a few magazines and new books with flashy covers.
Outside the window, the night was as calm as water, with the steady chorus of insects.
This place…
Was her former room.
Suddenly, her fingertips brushed against a warm, furry little ball.
She looked down. A kitten as black as coal let out a “meow,” its orange-yellow eyes blinking as it nuzzled over and licked her palm.
Damp and a little itchy.
It was the cat she used to have, Huangfu Laifu.
In her previous life, it had gone missing not long after she went abroad and was never found again.
“…Laifu,” Jiang Er’s eyes grew warm. “Wahhh, Mommy missed you so much.”
She held it in her arms, kissing it over and over, wishing she could gobble up its little cat head in one bite.
Laifu closed its eyes and began to purr, and her gaze shifted to another direction.
“Jiang Jue?”
A fair-skinned, handsome boy stood by the door, around fifteen or sixteen years old, holding a freshly cut slice of watermelon with a few seeds still stuck to his face.
He bore a fifty percent resemblance to her.
The voice from earlier had come from him.
“What?”
Jiang Jue hid the watermelon behind his back, looking wary. “This is the very center piece of the watermelon. Even if you kneel and beg me, I won’t give it to you.”
Jiang Er pouted, tears welling up in her eyes.
“No way, are you crying already?” Jiang Jue exclaimed in shock. “Don’t try to trick me.”
Jiang Er threw off the blanket, ran barefoot to the door, and hugged him tightly.
In her previous life, Jiang Jue had only lived to nineteen.
He was falsely accused of attempted rape and nearly went to prison. Although evidence was later found to clear his name, he developed depression from the online harassment and took an extreme path.
Because of his death, their mother was overwhelmed with grief, and her health steadily declined until she passed away from illness that same year.
Only Jiang Er and their father remained in the Jiang family.
And not many years later, she too was gone.
At her funeral, she watched her father standing silently before her tombstone and realized with a shock that his temples had turned gray, and his figure was no longer as tall and imposing as she’d thought in her childhood.
Tears glistened in his eyes.
This was the first time Jiang Er had ever seen her father cry.
She reached out to wipe his face, but her hand passed straight through his body, like a wisp of air brushing by.
Unaware, he shook off Fu Tinghan’s supporting arm, hunched over, and staggered away.
As she watched him leave, a voice inside her told her that they would likely be separated from then on, never to meet again.
Thinking of this, Jiang Er finally, belatedly, realized the benefits of reincarnation.
As long as the whole family was still together, high school was just high school.
She sniffled, patted Jiang Jue’s back, and softened her voice:“I promise I’ll treat you better from now on, sis. I’ll never hit you again, really.”
“Didn’t your fever already go down?” Jiang Jue looked as if he’d seen a ghost. “Why is your brain still not working? Could it have been fried by the fever?”
Jiang Er: “…”
“But since your brain is fried,” he exclaimed with shining eyes, raising his arms in triumph, “all the Jiang family’s assets are mine now, hahahahahahahahahahaha!”
Jiang Er: “…”
She slapped the back of his head, snatched the watermelon from his hands, and took a fierce bite, chewing the bright red flesh until juice splattered everywhere.
“I take back what I just said.”
Jiang Jue wiped his face, his tone tinged with relief:
“Now that’s more like it.”
Sweat had soaked her back, making her clothes stick uncomfortably to her skin. Jiang Er tugged at her collar and asked:
“Why am I at home?”
Jiang Jue walked to the bedside, bent down, picked up the pink rabbit slippers, and tossed them in front of her:
“Mom and Dad were worried you wouldn’t be used to the smell of disinfectant in the hospital. After your fever broke, they insisted on bringing you home—put your slippers on. Don’t keep running around barefoot. You know what they say, cold starts from the feet.”
Jiang Er let out an “ah” as she put on her slippers.
“What’s with the ‘ah’?” he grumbled. “You have no idea how worried Mom and Dad were on their way to the hospital after getting the school’s call. They were terrified you had some incurable disease and were even planning which house to sell to pay for your treatment.”
“Turns out it was just heatstroke. Once the fever broke, you were fine.”
Heatstroke…
Jiang Er vaguely remembered someone carrying her all the way to the school clinic. But before she could be transferred to the hospital, she had completely blacked out.
She hadn’t even had time to see who that person was.
And in her past life, she had indeed suffered from heatstroke once.
It was about a week after she transferred from Xinghai to No. 3 Middle School. Back then, it seemed someone had also carried her in a rush.
Could they be the same person?
Just as Jiang Er was about to speak, her mother’s gentle voice drifted up from downstairs:
“A-Jue, is your sister awake?”
Jiang Jue immediately tattled: “She’s awake, and she stole my watermelon!”
“What nonsense are you talking, you brat? Didn’t you save that watermelon especially for your sister?”
Jiang’s Father mercilessly exposed him. “You ran up and down the stairs eight times in an hour, afraid she’d miss out on it when she woke up.”
Jiang Jue coughed dryly and muttered under his breath, somewhat awkwardly:
“I did no such thing.”
Soon, two sets of footsteps approached.
Jiang Er turned her head abruptly to look.
At the top of the stairs, two figures—one tall, one short—appeared side by side in her line of sight.
They were a middle-aged couple. The man had ordinary features, while the woman’s face was exquisitely beautiful. Yet, a lingering trace of illness clouded her delicate brows, lending her a fragile, delicate air that hinted at poor health.
Both wore smiles as they walked step by step toward Jiang Er.
Just like countless scenes from her past dreams.
But this time, it was real.
Jiang Er’s eyes grew hot.
Thinking she still felt unwell, Jiang’s Mother quickly checked her forehead. “Are you still dizzy?”
Jiang Er reached out and hugged her, her voice trembling with a small sob.
“Mom, I missed you so much.”
Sick children often have heightened emotions. Jiang’s Mother didn’t dwell on Jiang Er’s emotional outburst, simply patting her back and soothing her:
“Mom missed our Er-Er too.””Alright,” Jiang’s Father beside her brushed aside Jiang Er’s sweat-dampened bangs, his tone tinged with slight disdain. “Go wash up now. With all this sweat, don’t go rubbing against my wife—don’t you worry about making her uncomfortable?”
Jiang Er reluctantly let go and took a step back. “Got it.”
She couldn’t stand her own smell either. After exchanging a few more words with her parents, she gathered her change of clothes and headed to the bathroom.
Warm water at just the right temperature poured down, spreading a gentle mist.
Jiang Er smoothed her wet hair, closed her eyes, and stood under the shower with her arms crossed, letting her thoughts drift aimlessly.
Somehow, she found herself thinking of Fu Tinghan.
To be fair, she didn’t like this arranged marriage between them.
But back then, Jiang Jue was gone, her mother was seriously ill, and the Jiang family was facing bankruptcy. Only the Fu family was willing to lend a hand.
The condition was for her to marry Fu Tinghan, who had a disabled left leg and was so ill he seemed on the verge of death.
Her father agreed.
While both her mother and Fu Tinghan were still alive, they hurriedly set a wedding date.
When Jiang Er found out, she said nothing and quickly made peace with it.
After all, Fu Tinghan was so sick it was uncertain whether he’d even make it to the end-of-year Spring Festival Gala.
Besides, she was still young—she could wait.
—There would be plenty of time later to spend his inheritance on hiring male models at nightclubs. Putting up with this for a while wasn’t such a big deal.