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“Huanhuan, stop tormenting yourself. Your Father and I have agreed to the divorce.”
An Huan: “?”
She was a single, unmarried young woman—what divorce?
An Huan opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was a gentle, soft-spoken woman.
Seeing her finally respond, the woman was overcome with emotion and burst into tears. “Your Father and I only want you to be happy. If getting divorced can bring you that happiness, then go ahead.”
Suddenly, a sharp pain surged through An Huan’s head, and a flood of unfamiliar memories poured into her mind.
She had transmigrated into a book.
A period novel that began in the 1960s.
Keywords: stepmother raising a child, military marriage, rugged man, face-slapping scumbags, satisfying revenge arc.
All popular tropes in current fiction.
But she wasn’t the female lead.
She was a minor supporting character with very little screen time—the male lead’s doomed first wife.
The original wife was a rich, pampered heiress. After a falling out with her first love, she married the military officer male lead on a whim to spite him.
After the marriage, their lifestyles and values clashed completely. The wife found the male lead’s coarse manners, wild temper, and lack of education utterly repulsive.
As soon as her first love got divorced, the stagnant waters of her heart stirred again, and she started demanding a divorce too.
The divorce, of course, went through.
Two years later, when the political campaigns swept across the country, the ex-wife was sent down to the countryside due to her background and her overly bourgeois lifestyle, along with her first love.
She was beautiful and had been pampered all her life—how could she possibly have survived in such harsh conditions? Especially when her so-called first love turned out to be a selfish scumbag. Not only did he fail to protect her, but in exchange for a single dogskin blanket to ward off the cold, he even forced her to sleep with someone else…
In the first half of the novel, the ex-wife only existed as a name occasionally mentioned by the author. It wasn’t until the 1980s, during a brief reappearance, that the story finally revealed a short summary of her life after the divorce.
When she formally reappeared, she was a pitiful sight. Though only forty, she looked like a withered old woman in her sixties, with more than half of her hair already white. She tried to reconnect with her son, but he couldn’t forgive how she had abandoned both him and his Father. While he was willing to support her financially in her old age, he refused to call her “Mother” again.
Perhaps she saw no more hope in life. In the end, she threw herself into a river and committed suicide.
Considering the ex-wife’s tragic arc in the book—and with her own knowledge of history—An Huan decided she would not divorce the male lead.
So what if he was illiterate? That only proved he had an ideologically pure and revolutionary background! In two years’ time, that kind of background would be a shield against anything.
Besides, the male lead would become a deputy division commander by the age of thirty. He had fought against the Nationalist army, battled American devils, and achieved military merit after military merit. His future was boundless—he was, without a doubt, a solid golden thigh to cling to.
In such turbulent times, who else but the male lead could protect a spoiled capitalist heiress like her?
“I won’t divorce…” An Huan murmured.
Qiu Shushen froze for a moment, dabbing the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief. “You won’t?”
An Huan sat up abruptly, her voice firm. “I won’t divorce. I’m going to follow him to the military unit!”
Qiu Shushen was surprised, but also overjoyed. “Good, good, that’s wonderful. You shouldn’t have divorced in the first place.”
Just then, An Huan’s stomach let out a loud growl.
The original host had gone on a hunger strike to force her Mother into agreeing to the divorce.
Qiu Shushen quickly said, “You’re hungry, aren’t you? I’ll go make you something to eat.”
An Huan clutched her stomach and gave a weak nod.
Qiu Shushen left, beaming with delight.
An Huan got up as well, locked the door behind her, and closed her eyes to focus.
When she opened them again, her heart finally settled.
The storage space had come with her.
The space had first appeared when she was ten years old and was roughly 500 square meters in size.
When the space first appeared, An Huan thought the apocalypse was coming. She’d been thrilled, already planning how to stockpile supplies—only to awkwardly realize she was just a high school student with no money…
Fortunately, the end of the world never came.
Still, the urge to hoard supplies never went away. As she grew up and started earning her own income, and after her Mother gave her a large sum of money following the divorce, the storage space gradually became well-stocked.
Food was the foundation. She had five tons of rice and flour combined, around a thousand jin of coarse grains, along with cooking oil, salt, sugar, eggs, milk, meat, vegetables—everything necessary for daily living, and in large enough quantities to last.
An Huan didn’t care much for instant food, so she hadn’t hoarded many canned goods or instant noodles. Instead, she’d packed a wide variety of fully-prepared restaurant meals in vacuum-sealed pouches—beef noodles, braised intestine noodles, pea and minced pork noodles, spicy and sour rice noodles, Yunnan-style rice noodles… and snacks like steamed buns, meat pies, flower rolls, wontons… all of which kept indefinitely in the space.
She also had live chickens, ducks, and fish. Notably, in the storage space, live animals neither grew nor metabolized—as if they were frozen in time—but once taken out, they immediately sprang back to life.
Clothing and daily necessities, including all types of feminine products—she had thought of everything and stocked up generously.
As for medicine, it was harder to acquire. She only had basic fever reducers, anti-inflammatory drugs, topical ointments, antibiotics, and various vitamins.
Because An Huan stocked the space based on whatever came to mind, the items inside were quite a mixed assortment. Some were things she thought might come in handy—like vegetable seeds and various fungi cultures. Others were things she regularly used or enjoyed, such as skincare products or specific snacks.
Even though she had decided to cling to the male lead’s golden thigh and her future life would likely be stable, the chaotic times ahead still made her feel more secure with the space as a backup.
Satisfied, An Huan did a full inspection of her supplies and exited the space.
…
She opened the door.
Standing outside was a small boy.
This was Dongdong, the son of the original host and the male lead—four years old.
Dongdong had dark, round eyes and fair, milky skin. His delicate features closely resembled his mother’s.
The moment he saw her, he turned to run. But An Huan reacted quickly and scooped him up in one swift motion. “What’s wrong? Were you looking for Mommy?”
Dongdong lowered his eyes, his tiny fingers clutching her collar as he silently shook his head.
From the sofa, An Binhua said, “You’ve made such a scene at home these past few days. Kids understand everything. He thought you didn’t want him anymore. You’d better comfort him.”
The original host had indeed planned to abandon this child…
A deep, instinctive wave of guilt surged through her body, almost bringing An Huan to tears.
She kissed the child’s soft cheek. “It’s okay now. Mommy will never leave Dongdong… Mommy is even going to take Dongdong to see Daddy.”
Dongdong looked up and asked, “Really, Mommy?”
An Huan nodded solemnly. “Really.”
Dongdong pressed further, “Then when are we going to see Daddy?”
There wasn’t a child in the world who didn’t long for their father.
Just as An Huan was thinking, An Binhua spoke up. “I’ve already called someone to book your train ticket for tomorrow. As for your grain registration and household documents, I’ll go write up the introduction letter and certification in a bit. I’ll also send a telegram to your husband’s unit.”
An Huan blinked. “…You move really fast.”
An Binhua adjusted his glasses and let out an awkward chuckle.
He’d been worn down by his daughter’s dramatic antics and just wanted to send her off to join the army unit before she changed her mind again.
From the kitchen, Qiu Shushen poked her head out and scolded, “So soon? I haven’t even had time to prepare anything for her yet!”
An Huan said, “Mom, tomorrow is fine. There’s no need to prepare anything special—I’ll just pack a few clothes.”
Qiu Shushen asked, “Then what about your job at the orchestra?”
The original host had been a top student at the Conservatory of Music and, after graduation, had joined the symphony orchestra. She’d even gone abroad with them for performances.
She had once dreamed of being an artist.
But that dream was never fulfilled in the original novel, and An Huan didn’t have the conditions to realize it either.
In just a few years, Western-style music like symphonies—labeled as capitalist art—would no longer be allowed to exist.
So An Huan simply said, “I’ll quit.”
Qiu Shushen was a little regretful, but more than that, she was relieved—because the man who’d led her daughter astray was none other than the orchestra conductor: a slick-haired, untrustworthy scoundrel!
She immediately began rummaging through the house, gathering everything her daughter and grandson liked to eat, packing it all up for them to take along.
Finally, she pulled An Huan into the bedroom and dragged out two modest-sized boxes from under the bed.
“This is your dowry. It’s time for you to look after it yourself.”
Qiu Shushen opened the boxes.
An Huan nearly went blind from the glare.
The two boxes—one filled with jewelry, the other with gold—were incredibly heavy.
An Huan tried to lift one, but it was so heavy that she nearly couldn’t move it. It must have weighed at least 40 or 50 kilograms. If she converted it to the gold prices from her previous life, it would easily be worth over 10 million yuan.
The jewelry was even more valuable. Just a glance, and she spotted a few pigeon-egg-sized diamonds.
Qiu Shushen sighed deeply, “Your father squandered everything. Afterward, we… we only have this modest collection of jewelry and gold left.”
An Huan: “…”
Qiu Shushen wasn’t being modest.
The An family had once been high-ranking officials in the previous dynasty. Later, Grandpa An had invested in factories and other businesses, amassing a vast fortune. Unfortunately, An Binhua, the current head of the family, was what people called a “prodigal son.” He spent money carelessly, didn’t know how to make money, and had no business sense. Gradually, he sold off all their assets and properties. After entering society, he also sold their farmland and shops.
The An family now didn’t have much left in terms of assets. Even the house they lived in was provided by the university.
But thinking back to their ancestral wealth, the jewelry and gold in front of her really didn’t seem like much.
Qiu Shushen pulled out a thick stack of money.
“This is a thousand yuan. Take it as your pocket money.”
An Huan hesitated. “I’ll pass on the money. You two should keep it for yourselves.”
Qiu Shushen waved her hand dismissively. “Your father and I don’t have many expenses. We can’t spend that much. Your brother doesn’t need it either. I just worry about you. Even though your husband’s salary is decent, women should still have some savings for themselves.”
An Binhua was a professor at level seven, earning over 200 yuan in salary, not to mention royalties and manuscript fees. He was definitely in the high-income bracket for that time.
An Huan’s older brother, An Ze, worked at a research institute in Haishi with his wife and children, and his salary was also considerable.
Qiu Shushen stuffed the money into An Huan’s hand. “If you ever run short on money, just send a letter home. As long as your father and I are around, we’ll support you. Do you remember?”
An Huan’s nose tingled as memories of her parents from her previous life flooded her mind.
After their divorce, they each formed new families, leaving her with only an old house and some money, along with a cold, stern warning: do not disturb their new lives. They had endured until she graduated from high school before divorcing, and that, they believed, was the extent of their duty to her.
She had crossed over while slipping in the bathroom. In that world, she was probably already dead, her body perhaps to be discovered only after some time. She had no idea when her parents would receive the news of her death, or if they would even feel sorrow at the loss.
“My child, why are you crying? Stop those tears, your mother can’t bear to see you cry.”
Qiu Shushen pulled her daughter into an embrace.
An Huan sniffed and held her mother tighter.
…
Given the current situation of the An family, An Huan felt it necessary to have a talk with An Binhua.
Listening to An Huan explain the situation, An Binhua couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. “You’ve finally started to understand things. However, our family’s situation is different,” he said, leisurely stroking his beard. “Your father, even before the liberation, was privately supporting several of the authorities’ operations.”
An Huan shook her head. “No matter what, we still have to be cautious with our words and actions, say less, and voice our opinions even less. Just because today is peaceful doesn’t mean tomorrow will be.”
Seeing his daughter, who usually only focused on her inner world and ignored the world outside, speaking so seriously, An Binhua laughed heartily. “Haha, my dear daughter has grown up. She understands how to care for her father now. Alright, I’ll listen to you. I’ll make sure to speak less.”
An Huan nodded.
The original book didn’t mention much about the An family’s people, so it was unclear whether An Binhua would face any difficulties in the tides of history. There was no way to avoid it; the great waves of history couldn’t be escaped. An Huan could only stay in touch with her family at all times, keep abreast of the situation, and adapt as needed.
That night, An Huan quietly stored the jewelry and gold in the space, along with anything else she thought might be useful in the future.
The next day, An Binhua and Qiu Shushen saw An Huan off at the train station.