After slaving away in the kitchen for over five years, I finally saved up enough for a down payment on a Large Flat in the city center with a river view. How on earth did I transmigrate just by taking a nap?!
Ye Congxi screamed inwardly, closing her eyes for the thirty-second time, refusing to accept reality.
When she opened them for the thirty-third time, she saw the same peeling, moldy ceiling and her current pair of thin, delicate hands.
Ye Congxi sighed and finally sat up, supporting her dizzy head as she resigned herself to fate.
She was so hungry; her stomach felt like someone was scraping it with a spoon.
She got out of bed, hoping to find something to eat in this messy, dilapidated kitchen.
There was nothing.
There was no sign of a cell phone, either.
Instead, she rummaged through a tin box in a cupboard and found some banknotes and coins.
They felt historical.
Ye Congxi’s heart sank. What year was it exactly?
Forget it, eating was the priority. Not knowing the purchasing power of the money, she simply stuffed all the contents of the tin box into her pocket and headed out.
The house was on the first floor, right at the front of an alley. The surrounding area was filled with low, single-story houses, and she could see someone setting up a stall in the distance.
Ye Congxi noticed an old woman selling tomatoes that looked quite fresh. She thought she’d buy one to make some Tomato Noodles to get by.
However, before she could even get close, the old woman looked up and saw her. As if she’d seen a ghost, she hurriedly rolled up her woven sack.
Ye Congxi: “?”
“Granny, wait! I want a tomato.”
“What do you want? I don’t have any! Sold out!” The old woman waved her hands frantically.
“Liar, I can see there are plenty left. Why won’t you sell to me?” Ye Congxi grabbed the old woman’s hand with considerable strength.
This was a starving person trying to secure her Tomato Noodles!
Clutching her woven sack, the old woman seemed to recall something and finally dared to shout the words she’d been holding back: “Sell, sell, sell—you talk a good game! Tell me, with a clear conscience, when have you ever actually paid for anything you took?!”
“Your parents are both sitting in the police station right now, and it looks like they’re really going in this time. You can’t keep acting like a hooligan just because your family is tough…”
Having been an orphan for nearly thirty years, the word “parents” was very foreign to Ye Congxi.
She automatically filtered that out and quickly pulled out the money. “I really brought money. I’m buying, I’m buying.”
The old woman’s remaining curses were stuck in her throat. She took the money suspiciously, felt it, and realized it was real.
“Weigh these.” Ye Congxi pulled two bright red tomatoes out of the woven sack.
The old woman froze. She picked up her steelyard scale while keeping a close eye on Ye Congxi, fearing she might try some trickery.
The tomatoes weighed less than half a jin—nineteen cents.
Ye Congxi: “Give me a stalk of green onion, too.” That made it exactly twenty cents, no change needed.
The old woman took the money and frowned at Ye Congxi. Her lips moved, but in the end, she said nothing and only let out a sigh.
Carrying her tomatoes, Ye Congxi grabbed two eggs from a nearby grain and oil shop and picked out a bundle of dried noodles. The texture wouldn’t be as good as handmade noodles, but she didn’t have the energy to care right now.
The house used a Honeycomb Briquette Stove. The lighting process took her forever, and the smoke made her eyes water uncontrollably.
By the time the fire was going, Ye Congxi was so hungry her soul felt like it was leaving her body. She relied entirely on her years of experience as a chef to mechanically cook the noodles.
First, she blanched the tomatoes in hot water, peeled them, and diced them. She heated oil in the pot and fried two poached eggs until the edges were crispy and fragrant, then set them aside.
Without washing the pot, she used the spatula to mash the diced tomatoes in the remaining oil until they turned into a juicy pulp. The sour-sweet aroma filled the air. She added soy sauce and salt; she had wanted to add some white sugar to bring out the freshness, but since she didn’t see any, she let it go.
She added water and waited for it to boil and soak up the flavor before adding the noodles. When they were almost done, she lifted the lid, and the whole room was filled with the sweet and sour scent of tomatoes.
Finally, Ye Congxi scattered a handful of chopped green onions and added the poached eggs back in. The yolks were semi-set; they broke at the touch of a chopstick, thick yellow liquid flowing into the noodle soup.
Ignoring the heat, she stuffed a soup-soaked poached egg into her mouth and followed it with several quick bites of noodles.
The warmth flowed from her throat straight to her stomach.
Ye Congxi let out a long breath. Thank goodness, she was alive again.
At that moment, her brain seemed to “boot up,” and countless memory fragments suddenly flooded her mind.
When she finally sorted through them, she coughed heavily, nearly choking to death on a noodle.
She—she had actually transmigrated into her own novel!
This was a novel Ye Congxi had written during her university years. At the time, she had been cheated by her mentor during her internship and was earning a ridiculously low salary. She thought about writing a novel as a side hustle, as she’d seen suggested online.
But she really wasn’t cut out for it. After writing a few tens of thousands of words, she abandoned the project.
In her story, Ye Daxian was from a small county in Yue Province. Due to family reasons, he came to Pengcheng to work in his teens.
Lin Qiujiao was a girl from the Shu Region, also far from home, working odd jobs in a Pengcheng factory. After being saved from thugs by Ye Daxian in a “hero saves beauty” moment, her heart started racing, and she was hooked. Before long, the two were together.
Neither of them was the type to endure hardship, and they lacked perseverance in their work. When they had money, they stayed home; when they ran out, they went back out to hustle.
Fortunately, it was the Nineties Era, and the economy was booming, so there was no shortage of work.
The couple also loved going to Video Halls to rent Hong Kong Films. Influenced by those movies, they tried to act like Hong Kong Gangsters. Even in his thirties, Ye Daxian dyed his hair yellow, wore a fake gold chain and bell-bottom pants, and kept a non-functional, second-hand Beeper clipped to his waist. He led a small pack of underlings who called him “Big Brother.”
A year later, they had a daughter.
Up to this point, the plot was exactly what Ye Congxi had written.
Her original intention was to follow a “redemption” arc, where the little thug Ye Daxian would have an epiphany and pursue a passionate path to wealth.
But she had abandoned the story right there.
She never imagined that the “God of Plot” would continue this unfinished book on its own.
In the continued story, Ye Daxian didn’t turn his life around. Instead, he became a top-tier “cannon fodder” character. Meanwhile, the poor youth from the end of the alley, Jiang Wenchuan, went on a winning streak and became the youngest tycoon on the future Forbes List.
Stripped of his glory, Ye Daxian even spent several years in prison because of his daughter… the Original Owner. The Original Owner fell for Jiang Wenchuan and, with her parents’ encouragement, began to pursue him.
But Jiang Wenchuan didn’t like her.
After several rejections and continued harassment, Jiang Wenchuan coldly and cruelly stated his disgust for her.
The Original Owner was devastated and went on a hunger strike for two days and nights.
Distressed for his daughter, Ye Daxian went and gave Jiang Wenchuan a beating.
Jiang Wenchuan didn’t fight back. Instead, he took his injuries to the police station to report the crime.
That was why Ye Daxian had been taken away by the police early that morning.
Having finally gained parents—even if they were two “Extreme Shamates”—she really didn’t want them to end up like they did in the story: one in prison for years, and the other crying at home every day like Meng Jiangnu.
Ye Congxi finished the last drop of noodle soup, wiped her mouth, and ran to the police station.
The sound of a woman crying echoed from the station—a sincere, heart-wrenching sob full of grievance.
Ye Congxi looked over as she entered and was momentarily stunned.
“I beg you, please? Just let Daxian go…” Lin Qiujiao was tugging at Jiang Wenchuan’s clothes. Even through her messy, low-quality eyeshadow and “deathly Barbie pink” lipstick, one could see how beautiful her oval face was.
When Ye Congxi wrote that novel, she had indeed included a bit of personal longing.
She had been left at an orphanage by her biological parents when she was three, and she had always yearned for parents who truly loved her.
So, when she wrote the novel, she named Ye Daxian and Lin Qiujiao’s daughter Ye Congxi.
Lin Qiujiao was the mother she had imagined—beautiful and gentle.
Looking at that face, the word “Mom” naturally escaped Ye Congxi’s lips.
Ye Congxi made eye contact with Jiang Wenchuan, who was standing nearby. She walked over and took Lin Qiujiao’s hand. “I woke up and heard from Granny Zhang, the vegetable seller, that Dad was taken away. What’s the situation now?”
Lin Qiujiao wiped her tears, her voice trembling with grievance. “He… he insists on pressing charges against your dad. He won’t sign the Letter of Understanding no matter what. He just wants your dad to go to jail. How can he be so mean, waaaaah…”
Ye Congxi patted her shoulder, looked at Jiang Wenchuan, and bowed. “It was indeed wrong of my father to hit you. Also, for my previous harassment and all the trouble I caused you—I apologize. I’m sorry.”
Lin Qiujiao froze.
Ye Congxi continued, “Rest assured, I will definitely not bother you again. As for your injuries, our family will pay one hundred yuan for medical expenses to settle this privately. Is that okay?”
Jiang Wenchuan let out a cold laugh.
Ye Congxi looked at his faded, washed-out shirt and steeled herself. “Three hundred yuan! As long as you sign the Letter of Understanding.”
Lin Qiujiao stopped crying and quietly tugged at Ye Congxi’s sleeve. “Congxi, we can’t even scrape together a hundred yuan. Where are we going to get three hundred?”
Ye Congxi spoke with a steady voice. “I can’t give you the money all at once. We can sign a note first. If I can’t come up with it within a month, it won’t be too late for you to send my dad back in.”
Jiang Wenchuan stared at her for a moment before finally uttering a single word: “Fine.”
“…” Lin Qiujiao’s emotions were complicated. She didn’t know if she should be happy.
After signing the note in front of the police and obtaining the Letter of Understanding, Ye Daxian was released that same night.
As soon as he stepped out, he started boasting: “That punk ran to the police after just two hits? What kind of man is that? Back in the day, I didn’t even grunt after being slashed twice. But then again, at least he knows when to back down and didn’t keep fighting me.”
Ye Daxian didn’t yet know how he’d been released, assuming Jiang Wenchuan had simply gotten scared and relented.
Ye Congxi massaged her temples. She was going to have to discipline this father of hers, or he’d be a lost cause.
Once they got home, Ye Daxian rubbed his stomach. He was hungry and was thinking about whether to take his wife and daughter out for a late-night snack.
Ye Congxi brought in two bowls of Tomato Noodles she had cooked with the remaining ingredients.
“We’re not going out. We’ll eat noodles at home.”
The tomato soup was a vibrant red, looking mouth-watering. Ye Daxian’s first thought was that she’d bought them from outside, but the bowls were from their own kitchen.
He took a large slurp, and his eyes widened. “This… you really cooked this yourself?”
It was incredibly fragrant. The noodles were coated in the tomato broth, sour, savory, and smooth. As the hot soup went down his throat, he felt like he was in heaven.
Ye Daxian was someone who enjoyed the finer things. Whenever he had a bit of spare cash, he liked to take his wife and daughter to the restaurants favored by big bosses.
His daughter’s bowl of noodles was even more fragrant than the ones in those overpriced shops!
Ye Congxi nodded. “Isn’t there a saying that the way to a person’s heart is through their stomach? To pursue Jiang Wenchuan, I specifically borrowed some cookbooks to learn.”
Hearing this, Ye Daxian slammed the table. “That punk really doesn’t know what’s good for him! Daughter, let me tell you, pretty boys like that are everywhere. No need to hang yourself from one tree. Dad will find someone better for you later, okay?”
Ye Congxi nodded. “Okay.”
Ye Daxian beamed. His daughter had finally come to her senses.
While Ye Daxian was happy, Lin Qiujiao’s face remained troubled.
She also thought the Tomato Noodles smelled delicious, but after a few internal struggles, she painfully pushed her bowl toward Ye Daxian.
“Daxian, you should eat more. I’ve heard people get beaten up in there. You eat your fill and put on some meat so you can handle the beating in a month…” As she spoke, Lin Qiujiao started crying again.
Ye Daxian’s hand shook, and his chopsticks nearly fell. “Huh? Why do I still have to go back in?”