Catherine Whitmore woke up inside a period-era novel as the capitalist family's seventh daughter—born of a concubine—and discovered she'd been swapped into a marriage the moment she opened her eyes.
“The childhood betrothal to the He family in Liaoning—Laner's health is too delicate for the northern cold, so you'll take her place.”
Catherine massaged her throbbing temples; after digesting the original host's memories, she smiled.
In the original plot, the very day the girl reached Liaoning her so-called fiancé Harrison Blackwood married someone else
The original host was forced to wed a groom, her dowry stolen, and finally framed for treason—she dashed her head against the He ancestral shrine and died.
But this life she had someone else in mind.
“Mother is right.”
Catherine signed obediently, then slipped straight into the Shen family vault
That night every brick of the Shen century-old hoard was hauled away until only load-bearing walls remained—even the gold bars tucked behind ancestors' tablets vanished into thin air.
Then she hopped on the north-bound train; in its window glass glinted her icy smile:
“I'm not going to marry—I'm going to be their ancestor.”
Three days later at He's gate Harrison wrapped an arm around his new bride and sneered at Catherine:
“Catherine Whitmore, even if you knelt and begged I wouldn't marry a woman like—”
Before he could finish, a military jeep screeched beside them
The door swung open; army boots hit dirt; epaulettes carried cold stars of rank.
The man peeled off white gloves, pulled Catherine into his arms before everyone, and swept his frigid gaze over gaping Harrison:
“Didn't your father teach you greeting your elders?”
“Say hello—little aunt.”
