Tang Jin imagined a lot. With such beauty, as long as he wasn’t impotent, even someone as chaste as Liu Xianghui, she could turn him into a macho man.
Hehe… maybe she was being a little naughty?
No matter—ancient wisdom says: “Food and sex are human nature.”
Though in her previous life she was still single at thirty, she couldn’t resist her friends bragging in front of her about how mighty their husbands were, how many times a night, all with happy, satisfied faces.
It made her want to find a boyfriend just to experience it—but before she could, she transmigrated.
Yet this new life wasn’t bad: no internet and the economy was less developed, but she was ten years younger, only 19, the age of flowers.
And there was a handsome soldier right in front of her, matching her aesthetic perfectly, in the uniform she loved.
Besides, it was 1985, the year China was transitioning from a planned economy to a market economy. There were countless ways to get rich—any one of them could make her a wealthy lady.
Money was calling to her.
The handsome man was calling to her.
A bright life was calling to her.
La la la…
As for the pile of junk on the floor, Tang Jin decided to throw it all away.
It insulted her aesthetic—she was a design student, after all.
She tossed the filthy, crumbly clothes into the downstairs trash. No need to wash them; only the bedsheets and covers remained.
It took her half an hour to finish washing everything. She really missed her washing machine from the previous life!
Tang Jin decided she needed to earn money fast to buy a washing machine—otherwise, winter would make washing clothes impossible.
Luckily, it was 1985, and single-tub washing machines were available.
After finishing everything, Tang Jin felt as if she had taken a shower. She was soaking wet and smelled bad; after all, it was June, and the original Tang Jin hadn’t bathed in days. In the hospital, she hadn’t been able to bathe either.
She spent an hour washing, and her long braid alone took half that time. She decided she would cut it that afternoon—it was unbearable.
After showering, she searched the bedroom for clothes and realized she had none left.
She had thrown away the entire pile earlier. Even if she hadn’t, they were all dirty. Impossible to wear. The original Tang Jin was truly lazy.
She couldn’t just go naked.
Suddenly, a bright idea hit her, and she cheerfully went into Mu Heng’s room.
Opening his wardrobe, she gasped—everything was hung neatly, like soldiers on a training ground.
No wonder he was the man she liked: handsome and tidy. She had really gotten lucky.
She picked a white shirt and put it on, rushing to the mirror.
Mu Heng was about 1.85 meters; she was 1.68. The shirt fit her perfectly, covering her hips and exposing long, straight, jade-like legs.
In the mirror, she looked both innocent and alluring—like the first rays of morning sunlight. Her skin was fair as snow, her face sculpted like jade, radiating purity.
Yet her eyes held a trace of charm, subtle and alluring.
Every gesture carried a unique grace, simultaneously pure and enchanting.
Tang Jin admired herself in the mirror for a long time…
At that moment, Mu Heng opened the door with a lunchbox in hand, and froze. This bright, spotless living room—was this really his home?
He stepped back, checking the door number—201, yes.
He had used his own key; he couldn’t have entered someone else’s apartment.
Just then, Tang Jin came out of the bedroom, smiling nervously at the stunned Mu Heng. “Husband, you’re home! Did you bring something delicious?”
She took the lunchbox from his hands, ready to open it—after all that work, she was starving.
Mu Heng was shocked by her outfit.
Her wet hair hung over her shoulders, dampening her shirt. The buttons at the collar were undone, exposing her slender neck. As she bent over the bag, he noticed her chest—she wasn’t wearing a bra.
His throat went dry, blood rushing to his head.
Damn! Before, even when she had been naked in front of him, he hadn’t felt this way. What was happening today?
Tang Jin set the lunchbox on the table and opened it, then looked at Mu Heng. “Husband, have you eaten?”
She didn’t even notice his expression.
Finally, Mu Heng recovered, awkwardly replying, “Yes, I have.”
“Oh, then I won’t hold back. After all that work, I’m starving.” She sat down, picked up chopsticks, and put a piece of tofu in her mouth.
“Did you clean this room?” Mu Heng still couldn’t believe his eyes.
“Yes! It was really messy. Husband, was I always this lazy before?” Tang Jin chewed the tofu, her speech slightly muffled.
She now thought pretending amnesia was a brilliant idea.
Mu Heng didn’t know how to respond, so he changed the topic: “I have business in the military district; I’ll go first.”
Seeing him about to leave, Tang Jin quickly stood up, smiling sweetly. “Husband, you don’t need to eat at the canteen tonight. I’ll cook for you.”
To win a man’s heart, one must first secure his stomach—she had read this in a book.
Mu Heng was stunned for a few seconds, looking at her suspiciously. “You can cook?”
Was she so amnesiac that she didn’t even remember if she could cook?
“I think I can.” Tang Jin didn’t answer too confidently—she was “amnesiac” after all.
In her previous life, she had been a food enthusiast, following every cooking show and food content on Douyin and Xiaohongshu. Her skills were excellent; everything she made was praised.
“Alright, I’ll buy some groceries on the way back,” Mu Heng said. He hadn’t planned on going home.
But since she had lost her memory, he felt responsible to take care of her for a few days.
“Okay, then you go ahead, husband.” Tang Jin smiled sweetly at him, showing two adorable dimples.
Mu Heng left, closing the door behind him.
He still couldn’t get over it—after her amnesia, she seemed like a different person. Same face, but her tone, speech, and demeanor had completely changed.
Could amnesia really change a person’s personality?