“And that photo of hers—it’s either been edited or taken from somewhere online. There’s no way she actually looks like that.”
Jiang Zimo spoke with great authority. He’d had at least five online girlfriends, if not ten, and knew all the girls’ tricks inside out. “If you ask me, just ask her to meet you in person. A real beauty wouldn’t turn you down.”
Xie Shijin glanced at him. “It’s nine o’clock, and Auntie still hasn’t called you. You’re using me as an excuse again, aren’t you?”
The guy had been a little menace since childhood. At school, he fought with people every day; at home, he once pissed in his father’s antique vase and got beaten black and blue for it. He hadn’t settled down as he got older, either. He was always out, hanging around with the local hooligans on North Street, and had nearly gotten someone killed.
His mother was afraid that if he kept acting recklessly, he’d drag the whole family down with him. So she imposed a curfew: he had to be home by nine. If he wasn’t, he’d get punished.
Jiang Zimo choked, then nervously rubbed his nose. “I’m at your place, aren’t I? How’s that an excuse?”
While Xie Shijin had been abroad all these years, Jiang Zimo had done whatever he pleased. But once Xie Shijin came back, it was as if Jiang Zimo had finally found someone to rely on. He stopped getting into fights and racing cars, and spent every day trailing after him.
Xie Shijin was an excellent student, clever and capable—the kind of child everyone in Beijing’s elite circle held up as an example. So whenever Jiang Zimo said he was going to hang out with Xie Shijin, Mother Jiang let him go without a word.
Xie Shijin couldn’t be bothered to respond. He lowered his eyes to his phone. The girl with the little gold-pawed cat avatar had sent another crying-cat sticker.
Naiyou Paofu: No, don’t. That’s too much trouble. Delivery won’t come out here.
That had been her original username. They’d been dating online for two months, and Xie Shijin still didn’t even know her name. At first, he’d been curious. But after two months together, the gentle, kind-hearted image he’d had of her had shattered completely.
If anyone knew what it felt like to discover that the girl you’d thought of as your unattainable first love had turned out to be a disappointment, it was Xie Shijin.
Jiang Zimo made a big fuss. “See? See? She’s playing the poor-me card again. She’s always saying her family’s broke, but she never seems to spend less on games.”
Xie Shijin frowned.
This was the first time Naiyou Paofu had refused a transfer. Before, she’d accepted the instant he sent one.
Could she think it wasn’t enough? Xie Shijin transferred another hundred thousand.
“One, two, three, four, five…” Wen Xiao’s eyes widened. “Good heavens. I’m going to war with you rich people.”
Before she’d transmigrated, she’d earned four thousand five hundred a month, working from nine in the morning until ten at night with only one day off a week. The overtime had left her so mentally exhausted she could barely think, and she didn’t even get meals or accommodation. Once she’d paid rent and utilities and covered food, clothing, and transport, she was still a thousand in debt.
And now one transfer from the Young Master was two years of her salary.
She couldn’t go on. She’d have to pick a good day and end it.
Xie Shijin: Send me your address. I’ll have a courier bring it to your door.
The original Wen Xiao hadn’t hidden her family background from him. She’d told him she lived in the countryside, that her father didn’t care for her and her mother didn’t love her, and that she couldn’t even afford to eat. Whenever she played the poor girl, Xie Shijin gave her money.
What she’d just said about delivery not coming out here was true. Nansui Village was so underdeveloped that it didn’t even have a milk-tea shop, let alone delivery. If you wanted milk tea, you had to go to the town more than ten kilometers away, and the options there were limited. So the original Wen Xiao usually rode her little electric scooter for forty minutes to the county seat to buy some.
“Wen Xiao, dinner’s ready.”
The shabby wooden door swung open, and a pretty woman with her hair tied in a low ponytail walked in.
Seeing the plastic bags scattered all over the room, she sighed. “Didn’t I tell you to put the trash in the bin as soon as you’re done with it? You leave it everywhere—who do you expect to clean it up?”
After graduating, the original Wen Xiao had stayed in her hometown, holed up in bed playing games all day. She’d eat snacks and instant noodles, then toss the packaging on the floor. Crumbs and scraps were scattered in every nook and cranny.
It was all right in winter, but come summer, the floor would be crawling with cockroaches and bugs.
Tian Wanrou worked in the county seat and couldn’t come home every day when she was busy. If she was away for three days, there’d be nowhere to set foot in the original Wen Xiao’s room.
Tian Wanrou bent down and picked up the plastic bags, putting the empty chip bags, cans, and water bottles inside.
Wen Xiao took a broom from behind the door. “Mom, I’ll clean up. Go eat first.”
Tian Wanrou looked surprised. Since when had Wen Xiao volunteered to do chores?
And that wasn’t all. She’d cleaned herself up, too. She’d changed her clothes and even washed her greasy hair—the kind you could practically fry food in.
Tian Wanrou felt her forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”
Wen Xiao pushed her hand away. “Mom, ever since I watched that video you forwarded me, I’ve been enlightened. My soul has been saved. I’ve decided to turn over a new leaf and do my part for the development of our country!”
Tian Wanrou often forwarded inspirational clips from public accounts to the original Wen Xiao, things like “Young People, Your Future Is Bright” and “The Eight Most Important Things for Young People to Do.”
“Wen Xiao, did Aunt Liu’s words hurt your feelings?”
In the village, people loved to gossip. Ever since the original Wen Xiao graduated from university, she hadn’t worked and had stayed cooped up at home. The neighbors had nearly worn a hole in her back with all their pointing fingers.
Her snobbish relatives were even worse. They constantly sneered that her parents had spent so much money raising a university graduate for nothing, and that she might as well have married early and earned some bride-price to recoup their investment.
Before Wen Xiao transmigrated, she’d heard Tian Wanrou arguing with Aunt Liu outside.
The things Aunt Liu had said were vicious, to put it mildly.
“No. I really do want to change. I’ll start looking for work after dinner.”
Wen Xiao had just done the math. In only two months, the original Wen Xiao had already spent nearly two million from Xie Shijin. Other than the transfer from today, every bit of it was gone—spent on tipping male streamers and buying things in games.
Wen Xiao was furious at how wasteful the original girl had been.
The Xie family certainly wasn’t short of money, but there was no guarantee they wouldn’t decide to settle old and new scores together. If they made her pay it back, where was she supposed to get two million? In this poor little home, even a thief would leave two hundred behind.
So Wen Xiao had to find a job.
Just thinking about it wore her out.
The original Wen Xiao had left her a huge mess to clean up.
Tian Wanrou didn’t take her words seriously, assuming it was just another short-lived burst of enthusiasm.
Wen Xiao unfolded the folding table leaning against the wall, then rinsed the bowls and brought them over.
“I won’t be back tomorrow. You’ll be home by yourself. There are tomatoes and eggs in the fridge. If you want, you can cook them; if not, just eat instant noodles.”
Tian Wanrou brought over two dishes.
Braised pork and eggplant with minced meat.
The original Wen Xiao’s family was poor, but they’d never shortchanged her when it came to food and clothing. Even though she didn’t work, her parents hadn’t blamed her. Instead, they’d said they would support her for the rest of her life.
And still the original Wen Xiao hadn’t been satisfied. She’d lose her temper at Tian Wanrou every day, demanding to know why they’d had her when the family was so poor, making her come into the world just to suffer.
But Wen Xiao treasured what she had.
Her parents had died young, and her uncle had raised her. No matter how close she was to him, he had his own family. Wen Xiao couldn’t do whatever she wanted; she’d always felt awkward, like she was living under someone else’s roof.
“I heard from Aunt Wang that Zhiqin is back. She often worked part-time in Beijing. If you really want a job, you could ask her.”
Zhiqin—Ruan Zhiqin.
The heroine of this novel.
She still didn’t know that the original Wen Xiao had stolen her identity…