But normally in transmigration stories, shouldn’t there be a system?
Why can’t she feel it?
System? System?
Su Wanqing called out a few times in her mind, but there was no response.
What is the point of this transmigration? To push the plot forward? Or is there some hidden mission? What happens if she fails? If it’s just to advance the storyline, then wouldn’t she just continue being a tool to boost the romance between the male and female leads? Or does she still have to follow the original owner’s old path?
Su Wanqing shook her aching head.
Forget it. Since it has already happened, she might as well accept it.
She was already someone who had died once—what was there left to fear?
As dusk fell, Su Wanqing busied herself with work at hand. Judging from the current situation, she was still working as a secretary in the male lead’s company, and she had already been married to the villain for three years.
Bang.
The sound of the door opening echoed.
Su Wanqing looked up—and what entered her eyes was a little ball of a child.
The child was exquisitely cute, but wore a stern expression. Dressed in a neat little suit, hair combed perfectly into place, he looked like a miniature adult.
Su Wanqing froze.
She raised a hand to gently touch her aching forehead, and fragments of memory surged into her mind.
On her eighteenth birthday, the original owner drugged the male lead, but by some twist of fate ended up sleeping with the villain, Gu Hengzhi. Because she was young and frightened, she forgot to take emergency contraception. She only discovered she was pregnant a month later, which enraged Father Su.
Later, it was confirmed that the child’s father was Gu Hengzhi.
The Gu family quickly came to propose marriage, showing great sincerity. However, the Su family did not agree—they would never “sell” their daughter.
The Su family was wealthy and powerful; they could easily raise a child themselves and had not fallen so low as to trade their daughter away.
Although Su Wanqing had a vicious reputation, she was actually very self-disciplined. As a top socialite in high society, she valued her reputation greatly.
After several rounds of negotiations, the original owner and the villain were engaged at eighteen and married at twenty.
After the child was born, he should have been born with a silver spoon, showered with endless love and affection.
But the original owner deeply loved the male lead and always saw the child as a stain in her life.
She would beat and scold him without mercy.
“You little bastard, you almost made me the laughingstock of all Kyoto.”
“Why don’t you just die?”
“You’re disgusting. I fell down the stairs and you still didn’t die.”
“Don’t call me Mom. How could a bastard like your father deserve me? Disgusting.”
These words were like needles, piercing deeply into the child’s heart.
Gu Hengzhi did not love the original owner.
Or perhaps he simply did not know how to love.
He only provided material comfort for the child.
Later on, the child ended up saving the female lead by pushing away a car driven by a supporting female character, losing the use of one hand and both legs, spending the rest of his life in a wheelchair.
Afterward, he was disfigured in a fire set by his deranged mother, turning what was already a bleak life into complete darkness.
This novel was long, continuing all the way to the descendants of the female lead.
It was proven that “plot armor” can be inherited.
The child fell in love with the female lead’s daughter, but the difference between them was like clouds and mud.
Inferiority grew wildly inside him like tangled vines.
On the second day after the female lead’s daughter got married, he slit his wrists in a bathroom.
The female lead and her daughter were the only faint light in his life.
In truth, the child had never been truly healed. His childhood was destroyed by a deranged mother; he personally witnessed his father being imprisoned.
Later, he was adopted by people who had once been harmed by his parents, leaving him constantly anxious and insecure.
He longed for happiness, yet feared it at the same time, to the point of developing deep self-doubt.
The last straw that breaks the camel’s back is never truly the last straw.