"Evangeline Ashworth! I’m telling you plain and simple—this marriage is happening whether you want it or not!"

"The thirty yuan from the Holloway family and the twenty jin of coarse grain coupons are already in my pocket! You dare stir up trouble, and I’ll break your legs, you hear me?"

That shrill voice drilled straight into Evangeline’s skull and made it ring.

She struggled to force her eyes open, still not understanding what was going on, when a hard slap landed square across her cheek.

"You little money-losing wretch! I’m talking to you, so why are you pretending you’re deaf?!"

Evangeline was completely stunned.

Wasn’t she just in her own seaside villa a moment ago, sipping champagne while checking the latest supermarket delivery?

How had she, in the blink of an eye, ended up in a hellhole like this?

Mud-plastered walls, a battered wooden window, and under the dim yellow glow of a kerosene lamp stood a middle-aged woman with high cheekbones and a mean, pinched face, hands on her hips, nearly spitting in Evangeline’s face as she yelled.

Then a flood of unfamiliar memories came crashing into her head like a burst dam, hurting so bad she nearly threw up.

She had transmigrated into a book.

And not just any role—she had become the cannon-fodder side character in a period novel, a girl with the exact same name as her.

A miserable soul worked like an ox by the whole family, sold off like goods by her own parents, and in the end beaten to death by her no-good thug of a husband.

And that furious middle-aged woman glaring at her right now was the original owner’s own mother, Harriet Caldwell.

"Mom, lower your voice a little. Don’t scare my sister."

A syrupy voice floated in from outside. A young woman in a floral indeedacron blouse walked in, looping herself around Harriet Caldwell’s arm like she was being affectionate, but her eyes glittered with naked amusement as they flicked toward Evangeline on the bed.

So this was that dear little sister of hers—Cordelia Ashworth.

And, at the same time, the heroine of the novel. A first-rate white lotus. She had stepped on her own sister’s life to take her sister’s place at college, and later married a high-ranking official, turning herself into somebody far above everybody else.

"Scare her? I’d rather shut her up for good!"

Harriet Caldwell was still fuming. She jabbed a finger at Evangeline and snapped, "Marrying her off to Victor Holloway in the next village—that’s a blessing she ought to thank heaven for!"

"Victor Holloway may be a bit lazy, sure, but his family lives in a brick house with a tiled roof! A useless girl like you, who can't even do proper work, still thinks she gets to be picky?"

Victor Holloway?

Evangeline Ashworth felt her head explode with a buzz.

That man was the village's known scoundrel. He loafed around all day, never did honest work, and was good at every dirty trick there was—stealing, cheating, sneaking about. He drank too, and once he got drunk, he'd smash things and beat his wife. Everyone knew his first wife had died under his fists.

Harriet Caldwell was plainly trying to send her to her death.

"I'm not marrying him!"

Evangeline's throat was raw, but every word came out sharp and clear.

She stared straight at Harriet Caldwell. The cold look in her eyes was so fierce that even this woman, who was usually loud and rough with everyone, felt a chill run down her spine.

"Y-you dead girl, how dare you talk back?" Harriet Caldwell finally snapped out of it and stamped her foot in anger. "We've already taken the bride price! The grain's already been poured into our jar! You think you can just say you're not marrying and that's that? Since when is that your call?

"I'm telling you, Evangeline Ashworth, tomorrow Victor Holloway is coming to fetch you. Whether you agree or not, you're going. If I have to tie you up and send you there, I will!"

"Whoever took the money can marry him herself!" Evangeline pushed herself upright and sat up, looking coldly at these so-called family members in front of her. "Either you go, or send Cordelia Ashworth."

The man who had stayed silent the whole time, crouched by the wall and smoking dry tobacco—Reginald Ashworth, the original girl's father—finally spoke in a dull voice. "Evangeline, how can you talk to your mother like that? We're doing this for your own good."

"For my own good?" Evangeline almost laughed from sheer anger. "Sending me into a house with a man whose name stinks all over the village—that's for my own good?"

"Sis, don't misunderstand Mom and Dad like that."

Cordelia Ashworth put on a worried, gentle face and walked over as if she meant to take her hand. But the moment she got close, she secretly gave Evangeline's arm a vicious twist.

"Brother Victor is actually pretty easy to get along with. He just likes to drink a little. If you marry over there and live properly, take good care of him, your days won't be bad.

"Besides, things are tight at home right now. It's not easy feeding one more person. If you get married, won't that lighten the load on the family too?"

She said it so easily.

So after all this, Evangeline was supposed to be handled off like goods, clear out space for the family, and be traded for benefits too?

Evangeline yanked her hand away hard. Her voice was so calm it made people shiver.

"The load's heavy? Fine. Then I just remembered—I've still got a marriage arrangement of my own that was never settled."

"Then go get it done right now. One less thing for this family to worry about, and one less mouth to feed."

The moment those words fell, the whole room went dead quiet. It was so still a pin could have been heard hitting the floor.

Harriet Caldwell and Reginald Ashworth traded a quick look. Both of them avoided each other’s eyes, guilt and panic flashing there for a second.

Evangeline Ashworth caught every bit of it, and her heart settled at once. Now she understood.

Buried in the original owner’s memory was one hazy piece of the past.

Back when her grandfather was still alive, he had held her little hand and told her something himself—he had arranged a very good match for her, the grandson of an old comrade-in-arms. The man was serving in the military now, and he held rank.

When Grandpa was dying, he had personally hung a smooth jade pendant around her neck and told her that was the token.

Without thinking, Evangeline raised a hand to her neck. Her fingertips brushed the cool jade hidden beneath her collar, quiet and solid against her skin.

"What nonsense are you spouting? What betrothal? Since when was there a childhood engagement? Why’ve I never heard a word about it?"

Harriet was the first to blow up. Her voice shot up sharp and high, like she wanted to drown out the panic in her own chest.

"Maybe you didn’t hear about it, but I know it plain enough." Evangeline looked straight at her. "Grandpa told me himself before he passed. The token’s still with me. He’s stationed on Nanhai Island. His surname is Blackwell. He’s an officer."

"If you won’t admit it, then I’ll go to the commune right now and ask the leaders to help write a letter and check. I’d like to see what makes more sense—forcing me to marry a thug like Victor Holloway, or me keeping the marriage promise my grandfather made."

"You’re going to take this to the commune?"

Harriet Caldwell and Reginald Ashworth both went pale. The fear in their eyes was impossible to miss.

In times like these, no matter how ugly things got at home, you did not let outsiders see the mess and laugh.

If the commune really found out, where would the Ashworth family’s face go then?

Forcing their own daughter to marry a local hoodlum—if word of that got out, how were they supposed to keep their heads up in the village after this?

The pipe stem in Reginald’s hand slipped and hit the floor with a hard clatter.

He shot to his feet all at once, raising a trembling finger at Evangeline. His lips shook as he spoke. "Y-you unfilial girl! You think you can use that to corner us?"

Evangeline let out a short, cold laugh. Looking at the two people in front of her who called themselves her parents, she felt almost nothing at all.

From the moment they pocketed that thirty yuan and made up their minds to shove her at Victor Holloway, whatever pitiful blood tie there had been was already cut clean by their own hands.

Slowly, she pushed herself up from the edge of the bed. Her body was still weak, but her back was ramrod straight.

"I’ll make myself clear right here," Evangeline said. Her voice stayed even, not loud, not sharp, but it carried a force that would not bend. "As for Victor Holloway, whoever wants that marriage can take it. As for the childhood engagement, I’ll go claim it myself."

"And if you still want to push me, then I’ll walk straight out that door right now and let the whole village hear about it. Then we’ll see who’s really the one making a fool of themselves."