Autumn, 1980.
The air in Jing City was thick with the sharp smell of coal smoke.
A black Hongqi sedan rolled over a yard full of dry locust leaves and came to a stop in front of a three-story house.
The door opened.
Vivienne Ashford stepped out.
She had on old clothes with patches sewn all over them, and she was so thin she looked like a hard gust could blow her away.
But on that cool, pale face, those dark clear eyes showed no panic at all.
In the sitting room, the crystal lamp overhead was so bright it made people’s eyes ache.
A whole row of people sat on the sofa, every one of them blood family to this body of hers.
Her real father, Benjamin Ashford, a high-ranking military man with stars on his shoulders, sat stiff-faced, his stare heavy enough to press the air down.
Beside him was her real mother, Millicent Weston. She had clearly lived well, but there was a knot of worry between her brows.
Across from them sat her two brothers.
The second brother, Clifton Ashford, was still in uniform, sitting broad and straight, his face full of impatience.
The third brother, Amadeus Ashford, was still in high school, and his eyes kept drifting to the girl beside him.
That girl was the Ashfords’ adopted daughter, Rosalind Ashford.
She wore a brand-new dress, her eyes rimmed red, biting her lip as she shrank into the corner of the sofa.
"Vivienne, you’re back."
Millicent Weston looked at the face that resembled her own by almost eighty percent, and guilt made her voice come out dry and strained.
Vivienne Ashford said nothing.
"Sister..."
Rosalind Ashford shot to her feet, and the tears came the instant she stood up.
"It’s all my fault! I never should’ve let Mom and Dad adopt me. I definitely shouldn’t have taken what was supposed to be yours!"
She covered her face and cried so hard her shoulders kept shaking.
"I’ll move out right now. I’ll give everything back to you, all of it!"
With that, she turned and made to run upstairs.
Vivienne Ashford watched the whole performance with cold eyes.
Every single line was exactly the same as the scene from that true-daughter-fake-daughter novel she had read before she died.
She had been the youngest chief state-level research engineer of the twenty-first century. Then a plane crash had thrown her straight into this messy melodrama, where she became the cannon-fodder real daughter.
Amadeus Ashford had just started to rise, but Vivienne spoke first.
"No need."
Her gaze landed on Rosalind, cool and sharp.
"Put that act away. I’m not interested in this cheap little innocent-girl routine."
Rosalind’s crying stopped on the spot.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
In her last life, when this bumpkin had first come back, all she knew was how to throw fits and act jealous. So why was she suddenly refusing to follow the script?
"Vivienne Ashford!"
Clifton Ashford snapped. He pointed right at her and started cursing.
"You wild country girl, you come back and start bullying Rosalind the minute you walk in? Rosalind’s lived in this house for more than ten years. She’s our sister!"
"Sit down."
At last, Benjamin Ashford, the head of the family, spoke.
The commanding air he’d built up over years in the army made the whole living room go dead quiet.
Leaning back against the sofa, Benjamin Ashford looked Vivienne Ashford up and down, his brows locked tight.
“No manners at all.”
He lifted his enamel mug, took a sip of tea, and spoke in a voice so cold it seemed to frost the room.
“You’re back in the Ashford family now, and you don’t even know how to call your parents Mom and Dad? Is that what the orphanage taught you, to talk back?”
“You ought to look at Rosalind and learn how a proper Ashford carries herself.”
With a sharp thud, he set the mug down on the table.
“Starting tomorrow, whatever school Rosalind goes to, that’s where you’ll go too. Don’t go running around outside making a fool of yourself and shaming this family.”
“And if you dare stir up trouble in this house again, then get out and stay out.”
Faced with this ridiculous little family performance, Vivienne Ashford couldn’t even be bothered to respond.
She bent down, picked up the small patched cloth bag by her feet, and headed straight for the stairs.
“Stop right there!”
Benjamin Ashford barked at her.
Vivienne Ashford didn’t so much as spare him a glance. She kept walking as if she hadn’t heard a thing.
“This is outrageous! Absolutely outrageous!”
Clifton Ashford was so angry he nearly stamped a hole through the floor.
Millicent Weston looked at her daughter’s thin, stubborn back, and a sharp ache rose in her chest. She hurried after her.
“Ningning, come on. Mom will show you your room.”
The moment Rosalind Ashford saw that, she quickly put on a look like she’d suffered the greatest wrong in the world, then tugged the two brothers along and followed behind.
At the very end of the second-floor hallway, the bedroom door was pushed open.
A thick paint smell hit them the second they stepped in.
Millicent Weston rubbed her hands together, looking awkward.
"There wasn’t enough time to get things ready, so you’ll have to stay here for now. Everything was only just bought..."
The room was pitifully small.
One iron bed. One plain wooden desk and a couple of chairs.
Compared with the carved rosewood furniture outside, this place looked more like a storage room than a bedroom.
Rosalind Ashford poked half her head through the doorway, and tears started dropping again, one after another.
"Vivienne, this room is way too small! It’s all my fault for taking your room. We can switch right now!"
She said it like she truly meant every word.
The moment Clifton Ashford heard that, his temper flared.
"Vivienne Ashford! Are you done yet or not?"
"Rosalind is kindly giving you her room, and you’re still being picky? A girl from the countryside ought to be grateful just to have a place to sleep, and now you want to snatch Rosalind’s room too?"
Vivienne Ashford tossed her bundle onto the table.
She didn’t even spare the people outside the door a glance.
"No need."
The door slammed shut with a bang.
Rosalind Ashford, who had nearly gotten her nose clipped by the door, gave a frightened shiver and leaned right into Amadeus Ashford’s shoulder.
"Second Brother, don’t be angry. It’s my fault. I made Sister upset..."
Amadeus Ashford frowned and tried to smooth things over. "She just got back from the countryside. She doesn’t know the rules yet."
"I think she was born contrary!" Clifton Ashford cursed under his breath. "Just wait. Dad will throw her out sooner or later!"
Millicent Weston stood outside the door, hand half-raised as if she wanted to say something. In the end, though, she let it fall, weak and quiet.
...
Downstairs in the sitting room.
Benjamin Ashford was so angry his face had gone greenish-blue. He snatched up the red telephone and dialed out at once.
"Old Clifford, go check on those people who brought her back. Find out what sort of messy crowd that girl’s been mixing with out in the countryside!"
After hanging up, he slammed the receiver down hard enough to make the phone rattle.
Millicent Weston had just come down from upstairs. Seeing her husband in that state, she hurried over and lowered her voice. "Dewei, don’t get so worked up you hurt yourself. Ningning’s been living in the countryside for so many years. She’s only just come back, so of course she needs time to adjust. Be a little more patient with her."
"I think she doesn’t take this family seriously at all!"
Benjamin Ashford let out a cold snort and pressed a hand to his aching temple.
"If it weren’t for the situation right now, do you think I’d have brought her back? Ever since she got here, this whole house has been turned upside down, and Rosalind’s been dragged into it too."
Millicent Weston’s face shifted slightly.
She glanced around, and only after making sure the children were nowhere nearby did she lower her voice even more and ask, "Are you worried about... the promotion at the military district?"
"What else would it be?"
Benjamin Ashford’s gaze darkened.
"They’ll be making the decision by the end of the year. This is the most critical time for my advancement."
"There are plenty of people in the compound watching me, just waiting to catch me out."
He picked up the teacup on the table.
"If word gets out now that I left my own daughter in the countryside all these years without caring for her, while the adopted girl at home was raised properly and comfortably—"
"All it takes is one accusation letter sent up the chain, saying I’ve got 'poor family morals' and that I’m 'cold-blooded and heartless.' Do you think my political review would still pass? Do I still want a future or not?"
Upstairs, in the little room at the end of the hall.
Vivienne Ashford stood inside and looked it over.
The conditions were a bit rough.
But that didn’t matter.
From today on, this place would be where she picked up her old research work again.
...
That night.
At dinner, the atmosphere turned even stiffer.
Vivienne Ashford sat straight in her chair and calmly helped herself to food.
No one else had lifted their chopsticks. They all sat there with dark faces, staring at her.
Then a sound came from the entryway.
The eldest son, Roland Ashford, still in a suit, pushed the door open and walked in.
The moment he saw an unfamiliar face at the table, his brows drew together. Then he noticed Rosalind Ashford’s eyes, swollen red from crying.
"Big brother..."
Rosalind Ashford called out softly.
"Brother, you’re finally back!"
Clifton Ashford jumped in at once, eager to complain. "This afternoon, the second that Vivienne Ashford got back, she started bullying Rosalind. She even talked back to Dad. Rosalind was kind enough to give up her room for her, and she still refused it. She’s got no manners at all!"
Roland Ashford turned his gaze toward Vivienne Ashford.
"Ningning, you’ve only just come back. It’s normal if you’re not used to the change."
He pulled out a chair and sat down, his voice steady.
"But now that you're back with the Ashfords, you follow Ashford house rules."
"Rosalind is one of us. That isn't changing. You need to learn how to get along with your own family."
Vivienne Ashford acted like she hadn't heard a word.
She took her time finishing the last spoonful of soup, set down her chopsticks, then pulled a napkin over and dabbed the corners of her mouth.
"I'm done eating."
She pushed back her chair, didn't spare a single person at the table a glance, and went straight upstairs.
The whole Ashford family watched her back as she climbed the stairs, each one of them sitting there with anger stuck in their chest.
They'd thought the country girl brought back from the countryside would be timid, careful, always checking other people's faces before she spoke.
Who would've guessed she was this stubborn, this impossible to soften.
"Dad, look at her. She's way too full of herself!"
Clifton Ashford tossed his chopsticks onto the table with a sharp clatter.
Benjamin Ashford kept a dark face and said nothing.
Rosalind Ashford lowered her head.
The more that village girl made trouble, the sooner this family would throw her out.
This time, she had come back with the next thirty years already clear in her mind. If she pulled out even a little of what she knew, she'd have no trouble planting herself firmly in Beijing's high circle.
What did Vivienne Ashford have to compare with her?
This time, she was going to grind Vivienne Ashford under her heel.
She'd stomp her straight into the mud and make sure she never climbed out again.
