Chapter 1: Transmigrated and Already Married—with a Wife!

Tang Jin paced back and forth, scrutinizing the furnishings in the room. She rubbed her eyes vigorously.

When she opened them again, her eyelids nearly cramped from all the blinking, but nothing had changed.

She had really transmigrated!

Those memories in her mind that didn’t belong to her were all real!

She had gone from a modern office drone just two years out of college to an ancient female scholar who looked exactly like her—and was already married!

Luckily, this dynasty not only allowed women to study and take the imperial exams but also permitted same-sex marriages. Women’s status was higher here than in the traditional sense of ancient times.

Unfortunately, the original host, this scholar, had lived a pretty miserable life—or more accurately, an utterly impoverished one. And she was a total scumbag to boot.

She was poor because the original host had been idle and lazy, scraping by on selling off family assets until only this empty shell of a courtyard remained. She couldn’t even afford medical treatment, so she’d croaked from a single illness.

What a joyous occasion—er, no, what a tragedy.

She was a scumbag because the original host had already gotten married yet still philandered everywhere, accumulating a bunch of “good sisters” without a care for her wife’s feelings, treating her wife like she didn’t matter at all.

Faced with such a rotten setup right from the start, Tang Jin’s little heart hadn’t even recovered when she heard footsteps approaching from outside the door.

Her heart skipped a beat. She whipped her head around to look.

The moment the newcomer stepped through the door, their eyes met, and both of them froze for a moment.

It was noon in autumn, with gentle sunlight streaming in.

The woman’s brows were like distant mountains, her eyes like autumn waters, her features exquisitely refined. Her face alone marked her as a strikingly beautiful woman.

It was a pity that her coarse hemp clothes were patched layer upon layer, and her frame was overly slender—clearly malnourished.

This woman was the original host’s wife, Chu Lingyue.

In the original host’s memories, wife Chu Lingyue was as beautiful as a flower, thrifty and hardworking, wholeheartedly devoted to the original host. She was a wooden beauty with a rigid personality, soft and easily bullied.

Just then, Chu Lingyue seemed to snap out of it. She dropped the bamboo basket in her hands to the floor and walked toward Tang Jin. “A-Jin, you’re awake! That’s wonderful.”

As she spoke, she lowered her head and rubbed her eyes. When she looked up again, her eye sockets were already red.

The beauty’s eyes brimmed with tears, her expression fragile yet dignified—utterly pitiable.

Tang Jin steadied her mind and held back from speaking rashly.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed the bamboo basket on the floor. The wild vegetables inside were mixed with dirt, looking utterly pitiful.

She had to admit, the original host’s wife was the pinnacle of ancient romance-brained idiocy, the ancestor of digging for weeds.

The original host really was a scumbag. With a wife who loved her this much, she’d still played the field.

No sooner had the thought arisen than a mechanical voice rang out in her mind: [Ding! Reward: one Corn Bun.]

Tang Jin: !!!

She’d almost forgotten. Right after waking up, she’d bound the Lie Reward System. Whenever someone lied to her, she would randomly receive food rewards.

So…

Tang Jin stared at Chu Lingyue, her mind going blank. Did this mean she didn’t want her to wake up?

What happened to the wholehearted devotion?

Hold on!

The reward was just a Corn Bun—and only one!

Heavens, what kind of stingy system was this? Come out here; she wanted to file a complaint!

Sadly, the system acted like it didn’t exist, offering no response whatsoever. Instead, a row of shelf-like phantoms appeared before her eyes—visible only to her—with a single Corn Bun sitting forlornly on it.

Perhaps seeing her stay silent for so long, Chu Lingyue asked cautiously, “A-Jin, why aren’t you saying anything?”

Tang Jin came back to herself and looked at the beautiful woman with her face full of concern. Hesitantly, she asked, “You care about me a lot?”

“A-Jin, have you gone muddleheaded? We’re wives to each other, bound together for life. Of course I care about you.” Chu Lingyue lowered her eyelids, her voice low and hoarse, laced with what sounded like a sob.

Anyone hearing it would sigh at how sincere it was.

[Ding! Reward: one Pickled Radish.]

Tang Jin’s mouth twitched; she nearly lost control of her expression.

Care my foot. How about shedding a few tears for it? The original host’s scummery and this woman’s acting were a perfect match—neither of them meant a word.

And this crappy system only ever gave Corn Buns or little pickled radishes.

Was it afraid she’d choke on the Corn Bun? At least it knew to pair it with a side dish.

Couldn’t it be even more thoughtful and cut the radish into strips?

“A-Jin, are you hungry? Let me cook you a bowl of Wild Vegetable Soup.” Chu Lingyue wiped at the corner of her eye, which bore not a single tear mark. In the depths of her gaze, unseen by anyone, lay utter stillness.

Tang Jin subconsciously paused, waiting to see if the system would react. When it didn’t, she finally replied, “Sure.”

So this woman had lied twice in their first three exchanges.

She really was wholeheartedly committed—to putting on a show.

Tang Jin couldn’t help but doubt the original host’s memories. But doubts aside, she still needed to eat.

She was starving…

Seeing Tang Jin agree, Chu Lingyue bent down to pick up the bamboo basket and carried the wild vegetables to the kitchen.

Tang Jin dazedly sat down at the table, carefully sorting through the original host’s memories.

No money, no reputation, and even the so-called love from her wife was probably fake.

This starting point was tough!

Before long, Chu Lingyue returned carrying a bowl. She said softly, “A-Jin, we’re out of salt at home, so it might be a bit bland. Make do with it for now.”

Tang Jin couldn’t help glancing at the bowl on the table.

This bowl of murky black sludge… no matter how you looked at it, it didn’t resemble soup. It was more like a lump of paste.

Had this woman not even bothered washing them, just boiled the veggies mud and all?

Tang Jin averted her gaze with a complicated expression and sincerely demurred, “You have it instead. I’m suddenly not hungry anymore.”

Yes, she’d stick with the Corn Bun and Pickled Radish.

At least the Corn Bun looked like a Corn Bun. She wasn’t about to experiment with this paste-like abomination.

Chu Lingyue pressed her lips together and said softly, “I ate my fill outside. Eat it quickly; don’t worry about me.”

With that, she pretended to look away from the bowl reluctantly and clutched her stomach.

She perfectly embodied the image of someone lying for your sake, willing to go hungry.

It was enough to move heaven and earth, to bring tears to one’s eyes.

Tang Jin chuckled inwardly and silently gave her a thumbs-up. Credit where it was due—this woman was really committed to the performance, even willing to act like she was starving. No wonder she’d fooled the original host.

But that level of acting could only fool the original host. Tang Jin had a brain.

By normal logic, if Chu Lingyue truly cared about the original host, she should at least have asked about her condition or how her body was feeling—instead of this perfunctory nonsense.

Tang Jin mulled it over in her mind, then mimicked the original host’s usual impatience. “Cut the crap. I said eat it, so eat it.”

With that, she got up and headed outside. She was going to eat her Corn Bun and Pickled Radish. This woman had just lied again—maybe this time she’d get a bowl of soup as a reward.

Hm?

Tang Jin paused in the courtyard, her steps halting. Why hadn’t the system dinged yet?

In disbelief, she turned back to look at Chu Lingyue. This woman…

Seeing her turn, Chu Lingyue immediately clutched her stomach again. “A-Jin, you eat it. I really did eat already.”

As she finished speaking, she even blinked hard, though sadly, no tears came out—otherwise, it would have been even more convincing.

Tang Jin could only roll her eyes inwardly. So this woman hadn’t lied this time; she really had eaten her fill outside!

“A-Jin?”

“No need. You eat it.”