Chapter 1: The True and False Heiress

“Smack—”

A harsh slap landed on Song Miaomiao’s face. She looked in disbelief at the person who had struck her.

“Mother…”

“Don’t call me that. Your mother is that mud-legged peasant woman from the countryside.”

Liu Cuilan interrupted her, the look in her eyes more like she was staring at an enemy than her own daughter.

“You filthy spawn of a lowly woman. All the care I gave you over the years was wasted. Turns out you were never my daughter to begin with.”

“You pretended to be my daughter, stole her place, lived a life of luxury, while my real daughter suffered in poverty in the countryside.”

“Get out. Get out of the Song family estate this instant!”

Her words cut into Song Miaomiao like knives.

Even though she had been mentally prepared, the pain and sorrow still overwhelmed her.

Song Miaomiao had a secret.

Since she turned twelve and started menstruating, every time her period came, a book would appear in her mind.

The stories were strange and always different — tales of transmigration, rebirth, CEOs, princes…

Wild, fantastical, and eye-opening. They changed her worldview.

But about a month ago, when she had her period again, a new book appeared: “The Real and Fake Daughter: My Live-in Son-in-law Becomes the Imperial Chancellor.”

It told the story of a rich daughter in Lin’an County of Ba Prefecture, who was mistakenly switched at birth with the daughter of a peasant woman in a neighboring county. In the end, their identities were revealed and swapped back.

What shocked her most—

The names of the places and characters in the book matched her and her parents exactly.

At first, she thought it was just a coincidence. But when her mother’s attitude suddenly turned cold and resentful…

And when she heard the words “switched at birth”—

Song Miaomiao instantly understood: the book was not just fiction.

The Song family head, Song Shuyun, stepped in to stop Liu Cuilan and comforted Song Miaomiao.

“Miaomiao, don’t be sad. You know your mother has a sharp tongue but a soft heart. Don’t worry—even though Qingqing has been brought back, we won’t kick you out.”

“You will always be the second young lady of the Song family.”

Song Shuyun was a businessman, but he looked and acted like a refined scholar.

Yet his words didn’t comfort Song Miaomiao. Instead, they frightened her.

Because the book had said: the moment Song Shuyun learned she was not his real daughter, he had already begun plotting how to get the most benefit from her.

He planned to marry her off, under the name of the Song family’s second daughter, to a scholar in the county—as a second wife.

That scholar was nearly sixty, old enough to be her grandfather.

Worse, he had disturbing preferences—his previous wives had all been tortured to death by him.

Song Miaomiao, raised in luxury, would never survive such abuse. According to the book, she died on her wedding night and was never mentioned again.

Thinking about her possible fate, Song Miaomiao clenched her palm inside her sleeve and blinked, trying hard to hold back her tears.

“She’s here! My real daughter has come home!”

Suddenly, an ox cart approached from the street.

Driving the cart was a dark-skinned, rough-looking young man dressed in gray work clothes—clearly someone used to farm labor.

In the cart sat a timid, pretty young woman.

She wore a patched brown linen dress, no makeup, and her hair was tied with a strip of matching cloth. Her hands were rough, and dirt was still visible between her fingers.

She was a stark contrast to Song Miaomiao, who stood at the Song residence gates dressed in luxurious green silk robes, delicate fingers adorned with rings, and butterfly-shaped flower hairpins in her hair.

With tears in her eyes, Liu Cuilan hugged Song Qingqing. “My daughter, you’ve suffered so much. From now on, Mama will make it up to you.”

Song Qingqing looked overwhelmed, still uneasy in front of the richly dressed Liu Cuilan.

Seeing her discomfort, Liu Cuilan’s heart ached even more. She fussed over her endlessly.

Song Shuyun also came forward, promising that she’d never have to endure a hard life again.

The scene of their happy reunion made Song Miaomiao feel out of place.

Trying to maintain appearances, Song Shuyun was about to introduce the two girls, but Song Miaomiao moved first.

She dropped to her knees in front of Liu Cuilan.

“Mother, though you are not my birth mother, you raised me all these years. I’ve always seen you as my true mother.”

Liu Cuilan thought she was groveling just to stay in the mansion and sneered, but Song Miaomiao had already removed her jewelry—hairpins, earrings, necklace, bracelets, even the ornament at her waist.

“This may be farewell, and I don’t know if we’ll ever meet again. But from the bottom of my heart, I wish you peace, health, and long life.”

She kowtowed deeply.

Song Shuyun’s face changed. He rushed to help her up.

“You child… Didn’t I say you could stay? The Song family can afford to raise two daughters.”

Liu Cuilan turned away. Though she resented Song Miaomiao for enjoying her daughter’s rightful life, she didn’t stop Song Shuyun from speaking.

But Song Miaomiao brushed off his hand, stood up, eyes full of tears but voice firm:

“The Song family can afford two daughters—”

“But my mother has only one.”

“If I stay here as a lady of high status, what will she do alone in Shili Village?”

The cart driver, Wang Erniu, finally looked at her.

He was the distant nephew of Song Miaomiao’s birth mother, Wang Guifang. Since Wang Guifang had mobility issues, he came to bring Song Qingqing to the Song household and take Song Miaomiao back.

When Song Shuyun said Miaomiao could stay, Wang Erniu had been nervous.

Compared to a rich family like the Songs, his cousin’s home was run-down, her leg crippled, her husband long dead. Song Miaomiao would only suffer there.

But now, hearing her speak with such resolve and call Wang Guifang “mother” again and again, he was deeply moved.

Liu Cuilan’s face darkened. “If she wants to go, let her go. So many years of raising her for nothing, and in the end, she still chooses her blood mother over me.”

Song Shuyun glared at her. He had already arranged Miaomiao’s marriage with County Officer Zhou yesterday—for a bride price of 500 silver taels.

He was about to coax her again, but Song Miaomiao had made up her mind. She turned and climbed into the ox cart.

“Let’s go.”

Wang Erniu, worried she’d change her mind, quickly turned the cart around and urged the ox forward.

The cart rolled away, disappearing into the crowd.

Song Shuyun gritted his teeth in frustration. Liu Cuilan looked somewhat regretful. Song Qingqing’s expression was complicated.

Only after the cart left Lin’an did Song Miaomiao finally dare to let out quiet sobs.

Overnight, her father was no longer her father, her mother no longer her mother, her home no longer her home.

No matter how strong she pretended to be, she could not hide her confusion and helplessness.

Seeing her eyes red and swollen from crying, Wang Erniu panicked. He didn’t know what to do, so he let her cry it out.

After a full day’s journey, they finally arrived in Shili Village, in Qingshui County.

Song Miaomiao had stopped crying, but the bumpy ride had left her pale as a ghost.

“Just a little longer—we’re almost there.”

She had already vomited several times along the way. Wang Erniu watched her skin go from healthy white to deathly pale.

He feared she wouldn’t even survive the trip.

And if she died, how could he face his cousin?

He couldn’t afford the consequences.

Suddenly, the ox cart jolted violently, getting stuck in a deep pit.

Caught off guard, Song Miaomiao lost her balance and fell backward due to the inertia.

She let out a startled cry and instinctively shut her eyes in fear.

But instead of hitting something hard, her back landed on something soft. A gentle push helped her sit back upright.

Puzzled, she cautiously opened her eyes—only to find herself staring directly into the red eyes of a gray rabbit.

Startled, she quickly shrank back into the cart. Then, she saw a pair of strong, rough hands grab the rabbit by its ears and place it back into a cage.

Song Miaomiao shifted her gaze.

It was a man she didn’t recognize.

He wore plain clothes, his figure tall and upright. His looks were nothing like the gentle scholars she’d seen in the county town before—his features were sharp and cold, and his gaze deep and dark.

The thin summer shirt he wore barely concealed his muscular frame, which exuded a quiet, intimidating strength.

Song Miaomiao: So… scary!