"You slut surnamed He, if I can't have him, then neither can you. Go to hell!"
Under the dazzling neon lights, a graceful figure was crossing the street. Just then, a BMW parked on the roadside suddenly let out a deafening roar. With a thunderous engine sound, the car shot forward like a runaway horse, aiming directly at the figure on the crosswalk.
The roar startled the nearby pedestrians, and terrified screams rang out one after another as they witnessed the scene.
Facing the oncoming vehicle, He Manshu only had time to catch a glimpse of the woman behind the wheel—her face twisted by jealousy—before she was struck and sent flying through the air. "Being beautiful isn't my fault. I'm not taking the fall for some trashy man," she cursed aloud mid-air before blacking out.
Pain.
Every inch of her body hurt, as if she'd been crushed by a truck. That was the only feeling He Manshu had when she regained consciousness.
So much pain—her body must've been shattered.
Unwilling to give up, she forced her eyes open, only to be met with the ugliest face she had ever seen: sharp, slanted eyebrows, triangular eyes, a collapsed nose bridge, and sausage lips... ugly beyond imagination. Reflexively, He Manshu raised her foot and gave the horrifying face a solid kick.
"Plop!"
A grunt, followed by the splash of someone falling into the water—finally, that eyesore disappeared. Only then did He Manshu realize something wasn't right about her surroundings.
Before her was a shimmering wide river, willow trees sparsely lining its banks, and tall green mountains in the distance. A tranquil rural landscape. But none of this made sense! Everything was wrong—the night had turned into day, the city into countryside. How was that possible?
Was she kidnapped?
Just as He Manshu was spinning up conspiracy theories, a flood of unfamiliar memories surged into her mind. These memories told her clearly—she had transmigrated into a novel, becoming the tragic fake daughter of a 60s-era story.
A cannon-fodder character who died at the beginning.
As the plot unfolded in her mind, He Manshu almost wanted to scream at the sky. What the hell? How was this fair?! According to the book, she was now in the extremely resource-scarce 1960s. Three months from now, her real parents would come to reclaim her. But today—before that could happen—she would be framed by the fake daughter's people, lose her innocence, and be forced to marry an ugly village man—the very one she just kicked into the river.
Lowering her gaze, He Manshu looked at Wang Fugui floating in the water with a cold glint in her eyes.
"If no one wrongs me, I wrong no one. But if someone does—I'll return the favor tenfold."
Since she was already here, she had to survive. A full-level green tea (a cunning and strategic beauty), He Manshu quickly accepted her transmigration fate. Even with the worst script, she had both the skill and the confidence to rewrite her destiny.
Her rapid analysis took no more than a minute. Then she knew what to do next.
Glancing at the distant village where cooking smoke had begun to rise, she knew that in just a few minutes, Li Yufang and a few of the village's gossip-hungry women would arrive to "witness" Wang Fugui rescuing someone from drowning.
In the original plot, the original He Manshu had come to the river to wash vegetables. Wang Fugui, colluding with Li Yufang, pushed her into the water at the exact time they planned. When the women arrived, he would jump in to "save her." The real He Manshu couldn't swim and, in her panic, clung tightly to him—resulting in a compromising scene. Even in the so-called liberated era, a woman's reputation in the countryside meant everything. The fallout forced the original character to marry Wang Fugui.
Fully understanding her circumstances, He Manshu chuckled softly. She quickly gathered the scattered vegetables from the bank and disappeared from the scene.
No one around. Not a place to linger.
Even if she was going to get revenge, she couldn't let it backfire on her.
With her gone, only Wang Fugui floated, half-conscious, in the water.
Don't be fooled by her 1.68-meter height—He Manshu had trained in basic combat skills for her career. That kick had been precise and full of hidden force. As a result, Wang Fugui passed out the moment he hit the water. That made things easier for her next move.
You want to hurt others? Then bear the consequences.
Now, He Manshu fully accepted her role as the real daughter. The original girl's enemies and life—she would now inherit them.
As the breeze rustled the reeds, Zhang Hua—a young boy searching for bird eggs—stared at the river in awe. He'd never imagined a woman could be so fierce.
So brutal… and so damn satisfying!
Wang Fugui might have been an adult, but he often bullied "undesirable" kids like him. Zhang Hua was thrilled to see He Manshu kick him into the river.
"Uncle, should we save him?"
Despite hating Wang Fugui, his upbringing still made the boy hesitant to let someone drown.
"Don't."
The speaker was a tall, handsome young man with a cold aura. His only flaw was the crutch he leaned on—his leg was injured.
"But Uncle..." Zhang Hua looked at the floating figure with concern.
"He won't die."
Just some suffering, and well-deserved. Not used to explaining himself, Zhang Chu patted his nephew's head and said patiently, as a soldier would—he had sharp judgment. One glance told him that Wang Fugui had only passed out. He wouldn't die anytime soon.
"Oh," said Zhang Hua, quickly losing interest and returning to his search for bird eggs. In these times, even having ration coupons didn't guarantee food. He needed to bring something home to help out.
At only five years old, Zhang Hua had already learned to survive under the weight of reality.
While the boy didn't care anymore, Zhang Chu kept watching the direction He Manshu had left in, thoughtful.
He could tell she was no pushover.
Just then, he suddenly turned his head toward the village. A wave of gossiping voices approached—women chatting nosily as they neared the riverbank.
Interesting.
Li Yufang laughed with the other women while keeping an eye out for the "rescue" scene that was supposed to unfold. But when they reached the bank, all was calm.
Something had gone wrong?
No Wang Fugui heroically pulling someone out of the water?
Li Yufang's smile faded. That useless trash. He couldn't even handle one simple task.
She had come down to the countryside in 1958. With no family connections, going back to the city was near impossible. But recently, a former classmate promised to help her return—as long as she could marry off He Manshu to a villager. Li Yufang agreed without hesitation.
She didn't care why her classmate hated He Manshu. She only cared about escaping this hard rural life.
Destroying a woman's reputation was the fastest way to force her into marriage. Once "tainted," gossip would do the rest.
Just as Li Yufang was wondering what went wrong—
"Splash!"
Wang Fugui suddenly burst from the water, his hideous face shocking everyone.
"You bastard! Trying to scare me in broad daylight? I'll beat you to death!" screamed Niu Chunhua, throwing clumps of dirt at him. The other women joined in with equal fire.
Wang Fugui was still dazed. According to the plan, he was supposed to push He Manshu into the water. Instead, she kicked him in, and now she was nowhere to be seen. What now?
As he dodged dirt clumps and looked pleadingly at Li Yufang, her fury grew. She regretted ever choosing such an eyesore to help with her plan.
Just then, her knee gave out, and she stumbled straight into the water with a loud "splash!"
Everyone froze in shock.
"Help! Help, I can't swim!" Li Yufang cried, choking on dirty river water and flailing wildly.
"Help! Save me!"
Grabbing onto what she thought was a lifeline, she clung tightly—it turned out to be Wang Fugui's waistband.
From the riverbank, a crisp, bell-like voice rang out:
"Someone's fallen in! Quick, come save her!"
It was He Manshu.
Her timing perfect, her voice drew a crowd of villagers to the riverbank. Meanwhile, He Manshu dropped the slingshot she'd just used—made hastily, good for only one shot. Thankfully, her aim was true. That single hit had knocked Li Yufang into the water.
In the original plot, these two ruined the real He Manshu's life. Now, let them be tied together in disgrace.
"Let go! Let go, Li... Li Yufang!" Wang Fugui stammered, nearly losing his pants.
"Save me! Help!" Li Yufang kept clutching him for dear life.
But her panic turned the waistband into her only lifeline—and with one final tug, she ripped it off.
Silence.
Everyone stared, dumbfounded, as Wang Fugui's pants dropped.
A little boy's voice cut through the silence:
"Mommy, why does Uncle Goudan's bird look different from mine?"
Different. Very different.
As everyone stared in stunned horror, Li Yufang fainted.
Wang Fugui snatched back his waistband and scrambled ashore in shame, disappearing fast—leaving Li Yufang floating unconscious in the river.
Only then did the villagers recover and start shouting:
"Someone save her! Quick, save Li Yufang!"