Chapter 2: This Isn’t Novel Transmigration, But…

After closing the bedroom door, Xu Chunian patted her chest, relieved she hadn’t given herself away.

Once she calmed down, she began to explore the bedroom. Generally, a room like this would have some clues, such as her identity.

Sure enough, there was a phone on the bedside table, and her ID card was in the drawer.

Xu Chunian.

The name was identical to hers. She racked her brain but couldn’t recall any novel she’d read where the female lead or supporting character had the name Xu Chunian.

“Wow, even the birthdate is the same,” she muttered.

She grabbed the phone from the bedside table and sat on the floor without a care for her appearance. The password was unlocked with her fingerprint.

It seemed like a soul transmigration was undeniable.

On WeChat, there was a pinned contact: A Yuan. Could this be her husband?

With curiosity, she opened the chat interface.

The screen was filled with green message bubbles, making the original owner of this body seem like a fool. The most recent message was sent yesterday. Scrolling up, it was mostly her talking, sharing all sorts of trivial things.

“I’m starting to ship the two of you,” Xu Chunian muttered, frowning as her mind automatically conjured up the face of her fictional husband.

She imagined a scenario where her cold and aloof husband was pulled down from his pedestal.

Scrolling further up, she noticed a reply from him on May 1st.

A Yuan: [You’re really degrading yourself.]

After that, there was a red exclamation mark, though for some reason, he had been added back.

Could this be a tragic love story script?

Xu Chunian exited the chat and returned to the home screen, glancing at the date.

May 25, 2023.

Wait a minute…

There’s a time difference in this transmigration?

Last night was May 20, 2017. She had chosen that day to confess because it held special significance.

Suddenly struck by a thought, she rushed to the dressing table.

The reflection in the mirror showed a version of herself that had matured significantly compared to her 18-year-old self, but it was unmistakably her—just older. Her hair had turned into chestnut-colored waves, and her features were more striking and defined. Xu Chunian suddenly opened her right hand, revealing a small, faint vermilion mole on her palm. When she was a child, her mother had told her that it was a mark left by Meng Po ^[1]Meng Po: In Chinese mythology, Meng Po is the goddess of forgetfulness who serves a potion to souls before reincarnation to erase their memories of past lives. because she had been unruly when she was being reincarnated.

So, she hadn’t transmigrated into a novel. She had traveled to 2023. This was her 24-year-old self?

Wait, her chest—there was supposed to be a mole there too. She pulled open her clothes and stared in shock before quickly covering herself again.

Who knew she had such potential?

“No, no.” Xu Chunian adjusted her collar and pressed down the corners of her mouth that were threatening to curl into a smile.

Sure enough, there was a mole, hidden in a rather private spot.

Biting her finger, she analyzed, “So, I’ve traveled six years into the future. I didn’t marry Jiang Huaixu but ended up with this man named A Yuan, and now I’ve become a resentful housewife?”

Tsk.