Chapter 1: If I Must Transmigrate, Why as a Fake Heiress?

An Yan had just regained consciousness, her head heavy and muddled, still unable to make sense of her surroundings when the sounds of smashing objects and a woman's weeping drifted up from downstairs.

“I’m telling you, An Jie, we’ve only just found our real daughter. I don’t care if she’s supposed to marry some battalion commander or not—that’s the remote northwest mountains!”

Dragging her weary steps, An Yan opened the door and peered out. She saw a middle-aged couple in their forties: the man stood by the window, smoking, brow furrowed with worry, while the woman sat on the sofa, sobbing endlessly.

Who were these people?

Hadn’t she already died?

The thought exploded in her mind like a thunderclap.

She had transmigrated—and landed in the 1970s, a time and place where people had little to their names.

The good news was that she had arrived in a relatively well-off family. But as her memories clarified, she realized the bad news: her supposed identity as the An family’s cherished daughter was a lie.

Seven days earlier, the true daughter had come to claim her place, throwing her life into chaos.

Originally, the former An Yan’s birthday—two months away—was to be her engagement day. She was about to marry into wealth, living as the wife of a prominent family. But now, with the true daughter’s sudden appearance, she was being pushed aside.

The original An Yan was furious—she had wished she could swallow the real daughter whole.

At first, the An family had intended to keep both girls. After all, the family had been in business for three generations and could easily afford it. They had raised her for over a decade; feelings had grown.

But who could have foreseen that the real daughter’s rural parents had already arranged her engagement—to a military officer—an agreement not easily broken.

Normally, marrying into the military was a good thing, but upon learning it was in the remote northwest mountains, Mother An was unwilling. She had just found her daughter after so many years and wanted to make it up to her, not send her away to the mountains.

But interfering with a military marriage was no trivial matter in those times.

After much deliberation, they decided to have the original An Yan marry in her place.

Both choices were painful—a cut from the thigh, or a wound from the heart. But the heart’s pain was fresher, having only just been recovered.

When the original An Yan learned of it, she made a scene and even jumped into the water in protest. Luckily, she was rescued, but rumors spread like wildfire.

“What a way to begin—a bombshell right from the start. What kind of fate is this?” An Yan sighed. She almost wished she could report to the King of the Underworld and be reincarnated, rather than face such a melodramatic beginning.

She had worked so hard to take her company public, only to end up like this after saving a boy. Regret surged in her heart, and she nearly fainted again.

Yet, hearing her ‘mother’ downstairs, she knew escape was impossible—she would have to face this.

Pulling herself together, An Yan made her way downstairs. “Stop arguing, the both of you.”

The living room fell silent.

“Yan Yan, you’re awake?”

“Just now. I woke up when you started smashing things.”

Her words made Zhao Qiufang’s expression flicker with nervousness.

“You don’t need to argue anymore. I’ll agree to go to the northwest.”

Hearing this, both of them felt a pang of guilt.

Especially An Jie, who looked at the “fake” daughter he’d raised for over ten years, almost blurting out, “I don’t agree.” But recalling his real daughter, the words died on his lips.

“Yan Yan, your father won’t treat you unfairly. You’ll have all the dowry you deserve.”

“No need for a dowry. If you feel sorry for me, just give me the cash instead.”

An Yan didn’t want the hassle; she’d have to take a train all the way to the northwest. What use were piles of dowry items? Cash was far more practical.

An Jie was momentarily stunned, but realized she was right. “Qiufang, go get eight hundred yuan for Yan Yan.”

“If you run into trouble, come back to your father,” he said.

An Yan knew it was just something to say, but she nodded. “Alright. I’m not feeling well. Dad... can you buy me a train ticket to the northwest? I’ll leave tomorrow, so my sister can come home sooner.”

Hearing this, the couple’s guilt deepened. Holding back tears, Zhao Qiufang said, “Yan Yan, don’t blame us—blame your birth parents for arranging a military marriage. We had no choice.”

An Yan cooperated: “Mom, I understand. I don’t blame you.”

Back in her room, An Yan glanced around without a hint of nostalgia. She found a suitcase and began to pack.

The next morning.

When An Yan went downstairs, she noticed an extra person in the living room—a thin, frail girl. She guessed her identity at once.

The family ate breakfast together in silence.

It was only after An Yan boarded the car that the An family finally realized what had just happened.

How had everything gone so smoothly? And why did they suddenly feel reluctant to let her go?

“Dad, Mom, should I not have come back? Maybe I should go to the northwest instead and let Sister Yan Yan come home,” said Xia Cuicui, her eyes red as she watched her parents wave at the departing train.

“Cuicui, don’t talk nonsense. It took so much to find you. You’re our real daughter. Yan Yan is grown; she’s just returning to her old life. We can’t raise her forever,” her mother replied.

Sitting on the train, An Yan looked at the information scrawled on a slip of paper. There was only a name—Lin You—and the location of his military unit.

Her head throbbed. Couldn’t they have at least given her a photo?

What if this man was hideous? Thirty years old, a battalion commander, and still unmarried—that could only mean three things: he was ugly, had a bad temper, or was in poor health.

She’d read plenty of transmigration novels—99.9% of the time, the heroine found a dazzlingly capable husband. Was she destined to be the 0.01%?

Oh heavens... I transmigrated to save someone. Could you please grant me a little mercy?

After two and a half days of rattling on the train, she finally arrived in the vast northwest. She had thought of getting off and running away, but knowing this was a military marriage, she quickly dismissed those ideas.

Stepping off the train, An Yan wrapped her coat tightly around herself. It was only January, not yet spring, and the mountains of the northwest were still blanketed in snow.

She asked the station staff, learning that Lin You’s unit was halfway up the mountain—a military zone, accessible only by military vehicles.

The journey up was rough, making An Yan almost sick to her stomach.

The landscape was barren; she didn’t see a soul, let alone a house—just endless, lifeless yellow earth.

“Comrade, we have arrived.”

With a screech of brakes, the young soldier driving hopped out and lowered the tailgate.

An Yan stepped down and gazed at the military encampment before her. Compared to her old home, the conditions were truly worlds apart.

A pretty young woman suddenly appearing at the base quickly drew the eyes of passing soldiers.

“Hello, comrade.”

An Yan hurriedly called out as a soldier, rifle slung across his back, approached.

He saluted her. “Hello.”

“I’d like to ask, where is Battalion Commander Lin You?”

“Battalion Commander Lin?” he replied. “He’s probably leading a team into the mountains right now. Do you need something from him?” He looked An Yan up and down.

“Are you his sister?” he asked, noting her youthful appearance.

An Yan didn’t hide the truth. “No, I’m his fiancée.”

Her tone was a bit awkward—before this, she’d never married, and had only had one brief romance in university.

The soldier’s expression was clearly incredulous.

“So you’re the battalion commander’s wife. I’ll take you to his house, then, and let him know you’ve arrived as soon as I see him.”

An Yan thought for a moment—this was all she could do.

The military family compound was on the northern side of the base, a cluster of single-story homes.

Lin You’s house was at the far right of a row of such houses.

An Yan glanced at it. So this was to be her future home?

“Who are you looking for?” A woman in uniform emerged from the house. She looked about twenty-five or twenty-six, in the bloom of life—tall, with tanned but healthy skin, and exuding a spirited vitality in her military attire.

In her arms, she carried a little girl of about three years old.