Chapter 4: Three Thousand Gold Bar and the Journey Ahead
After the original Yan Tangtang returned to her biological family, she failed to grasp the true sentiments of those around her. Instead, she fixated her heart on a bitter, unrelenting hatred for the female protagonist.
What she never realized was that the Qi family had looked upon her with a quiet, simmering disappointment from the very start. What powerful clan could truly embrace a daughter who had been forced into a life of prostitution? Furthermore, this biological daughter had remained a mere mortal, unable to even step onto the path of cultivation for twenty-five years. To the Qi family, she was nothing more than a living stain upon their reputation.
In their hearts, the original Yan Tangtang could never measure up to the female lead. However, because she was their own blood—and because her displacement was a result of their own past negligence—they tolerated her actions. Yet, they could not suppress their deep affection for the female lead, whom they continued to showcase as their pride and joy.
Meanwhile, they went to great lengths to suppress any rumors regarding Yan Tangtang, keeping her existence hidden from the world.
As was the natural order of things, the family's finest resources were reserved solely for the female lead. No matter how much Yan Tangtang protested or caused a scene, her pleas fell on deaf ears; instead, her outbursts only served to deepen their disdain.
The female lead, initially moved by a sense of pity for what the original Yan Tangtang had endured, sought to offer her comfort. However, she failed to realize—or perhaps she chose not to see—how her own image of noble purity and effortless grace felt like a taunt to a broken woman. Whether her ignorance was genuine remained a lingering question.
In the eyes of the Qi family, their "little girl" (the female lead) was a saint trying to offer solace, while the biological daughter was a troublesome, screaming lunatic. In those moments, it seemed the Qi family conveniently forgot who truly shared their blood.
Eventually, the female lead grew weary of offering comfort. She began to simply endure Yan Tangtang's provocations with silent patience. But as the hostility escalated, they finally reached a point of confrontation, solidifying their roles as the "Heroine" and the "Villainess."
In the original novel, it was written that Yan Tangtang, driven by jealousy and greed, transformed into a major antagonist. As is the custom for all villains, her end was tragic. After multiple attempts on the female lead's life, she met her end at the hands of her own biological family, the Qi family, who personally executed her to cleanse their name.
The current Yan Tangtang let out a long, heavy sigh. This was the legacy of the original host—a life devoid of joy that ended in utter ruin.
When she had first read the novel, she had judged the original host harshly. She felt that while her past was tragic, she shouldn't have targeted the female lead. When the character died, she had simply sighed and thought, "She reaped what she sowed."
But now, standing in the original host's shoes and reflecting on the chain of events, she realized the actions were almost inevitable. Fate simply had no mercy for her.
Is it not the eternal instinct of the oppressed and the bullied to seek vengeance once they find a sliver of power? When the original host returned to her family, her descent into madness was likely the manifestation of deep-seated trauma. Yet, the Qi family never offered her the warmth of a healing heart; instead, by keeping the female lead constantly present, they poured oil onto the smoldering fires of her resentment.
Her eventual extremism was, in hindsight, hardly surprising.
As Yan Tangtang mentally retraced the plot to find the root of the original host's feelings, she realized that the female lead wasn't as likable as the book portrayed. In truth, she was someone who sought her own benefit by stepping over the lives of others.
Gazing at the stars through the window, Yan Tangtang wondered if the original soul had perished or if she had transmigrated elsewhere, just as she had. She fervently hoped for the latter.
She whispered a sincere prayer that the original host would find happiness in a life far better than this one.
Now, it was time for Yan Tangtang to worry about herself. Looking at her small hands and feet, she knew she was still a child. A young girl, alone in a house at night—this mirrored the beginning of the original host's timeline perfectly.
She sighed again. When she first read the novel's synopsis, she had felt a sense of foreboding and almost skipped it.
However, as a hardcore BL (Boys' Love) fan, she couldn't resist the premise of "straight" handsome men being "bent" by the plot.
While reading, she had been a silent observer, never leaving a comment. She had planned to stay up for a few hours after finishing the book, but the moment her eyes closed, she had woken up here.
After a long period of dazed silence, Yan Tangtang finally accepted her transmigration. Though it was dark, she could tell her body was small—nowhere near sixteen. This meant she still had time to change her fate.
She didn't know her next move yet, but she knew one thing for certain: she could not stay here with the Yan couple.
Glancing outside, she saw the faint traces of dawn beginning to bleed into the horizon. Morning was coming.
"Fine then. Let's wait for the light."
Time crawled by.
At the break of dawn, as Yan Tangtang was nodding off, the sound of the front door creaking open jolted her awake. Just as she was about to climb out of bed, a man and a woman, seemingly in their thirties, marched into her room.
The man didn't even spare her a glance. The woman made no effort to hide the cold distaste on her face. She tossed a small drawstring pouch and a letter onto the stool where Yan Tangtang sat, her voice dripping with impatience.
"Give this bag and the letter to the woman who comes to feed you. Listen to her and stay put. We will be gone for a long time this trip."
Yan Tangtang looked from one to the other and then quickly lowered her head. She couldn't let them sense that anything was wrong. These two were undoubtedly the Yan couple. While they clearly didn't care for her, they wouldn't just let her run away either.
Ignoring whatever she might be thinking, the pair didn't even bother to sit down before turning to leave. After a moment, Yan Tangtang picked up the letter. The message was blunt and simple.
They were going into "Secluded Cultivation" (Closed-door training), which could last for several years. Therefore, they were "generously" providing three thousand gold bars in the pouch for the child's upkeep. She was not to die under any circumstances. If the girl died, the caretaker woman would not be allowed to live either.
Now, her suspicions were fully confirmed. She had truly transmigrated into the novel.
Having read the entire book, she could estimate the current timeline. While the novel didn't dwell on the Yans' cultivation levels, the reality here provided the details. At this point, the original host was seven years old. The Yan couple had both reached the ninth stage of Qi Condensation and were heading into seclusion to attempt a breakthrough to the Foundation Establishment stage. This seclusion would last for nine years. By the time they returned, the original host would be sixteen—the exact age her living hell was destined to begin.
Tragically, even after nine years, only the husband would succeed in reaching Foundation Establishment; his wife would fail.
Though the Yan couple lacked parental affection, they were deeply devoted to each other. Their dream was to reach immortality together.
Because they loved each other and desired to progress at the same rate, they would later go to extreme lengths to find cultivation resources to help the wife catch up. This was one of the primary reasons for the original host's tragic fate.
Judging by how carelessly the Yans had left the letter and the bag, it was clear the original host was illiterate and that this arrangement was routine—like using the child as a middleman to pay the village woman.
Yan Tangtang folded the letter neatly. She wanted to burn it but, finding no fire, she tucked it under her pillow and picked up the small drawstring pouch. It was only the size of her palm and felt flat, as if it held nothing at all. But as a reader, she knew better. This was a Storage Pouch.
Mercenaries like the Yans were often perpetually cash-strapped; they could never afford high-grade "Storage Rings" that could preserve spiritual herbs or hold living beings. The best they could manage were these low-tier storage bags.
The one in her hand was a low-grade version. As she explored it and pulled out a gold bar, she realized the internal space was limited. If she put the bars back, there would only be room for maybe two thousand more.
After returning all the gold bars to the pouch, Yan Tangtang carefully tucked it into her inner tunic. She had to be cautious. At seven years old, carrying three thousand gold bars was an invitation to be robbed—or worse.
There was no way she was giving this to the village woman. Since Yan Tangtang planned to leave, the woman's services were no longer required; therefore, no payment was necessary. She didn't feel good about taking the Yans' money, but she had no choice. This was a cultivation world, teeming with danger. Not only was she yet to step onto the path of power, but she was also a seven-year-old child embarking on an unknown journey of uncertain length. As a mortal, she needed to eat and drink. While three thousand gold bars seemed like a fortune for a child, it might not even cover the travel expenses of the long road ahead.
She truly had no other option.
As she comforted herself with that thought, she suddenly remembered how the female lead used the phrase "I had no choice" every time she did something questionable. Shifting uncomfortably, Yan Tangtang rubbed her nose in embarrassment.
She didn't want to be like that girl, nor did she want to compete with her. While it felt unfair that the girl had taken the original host's place in the Qi family, she herself was not the original host. The Qi family meant nothing to her. Besides, the female lead had transmigrated as an infant; after seven years, the bonds of affection between her and the Qi family were likely unbreakable.
Furthermore, Yan Tangtang was just a girl who had struggled to pass her school exams. How could she possibly compete with a "Strong Woman" archetype who could lead a nation's top business conglomerate? She had no desire for a head-on collision.
She would escape the Yans, stay far away from the Qi family, avoid the female lead, and walk her own path.
In a cultivation world, if she didn't strive for immortality, she would be the biggest fool alive. In her past life, she had vowed that if she ever got a second chance, she would change herself. Now was the perfect time.
At that thought, a smile spread across her face. In her previous life, she had a "poker face"—her expressions often felt frozen and stiff, making it hard to smile.
But this body was different. The smile came easily, and her blue eyes sparkled like silver dust scattered over a vast ocean.
In high spirits, she washed her face and limbs as the sun rose. She caught her reflection in the water and smiled repeatedly.
Currently, this body was objectively plain: dark-skinned, thin, and short. Yet, when she smiled, a certain charm broke through the gloom, masking the homeliness.
She stepped back into the house, feeling refreshed. It was fully light now; the food should be arriving soon. The novel hadn't detailed these mundane moments—what the woman brought, what time she arrived, or whether she was kind or cruel. But Yan Tangtang didn't have to wait long. A middle-aged woman dressed as a villager arrived carrying a food basket.
"You're awake? I'm not late, am I, auntie?"
Yan Tangtang didn't answer but tried to offer a smile. The woman didn't seem to find her silence odd; she set the basket down and prepared to take back the one from the previous day. However, her eyes began to dart around the house, searching for something.
Then, she spoke words that clearly contradicted her internal greed.
"I'm busy this afternoon, so I brought enough food for the whole day. Make sure to space it out."
Yan Tangtang's eyes flashed for a second, but she said nothing, keeping her practiced smile in place.
Seeing that the girl wouldn't speak, the woman frowned slightly. Not caring much for the child, she began to walk around the room, still searching. Finally, unable to contain herself, she asked:
"The night watchman said the adults of your house returned early this morning... Did they leave anything behind?"
Yan Tangtang had sensed her motive long ago. She had been waiting for the question.
"They didn't leave anything. They only gave me instructions. My mother said an acquaintance is coming to pick me up today. She told me to tell you that you don't need to come back tomorrow."
The woman's face fell instantly. Every time the Yan couple returned, they usually left a few copper coins for her. Hearing the news from the watchman had made her day, but she hadn't expected this. Though the Yans were stingy cultivators who only gave her a pittance, the cost of feeding a child was negligible, and since they never checked what she fed the girl, she always made a profit. Now, that income was gone.
She wanted to lash out at being "fired" so abruptly, but they were cultivators and she was a mere mortal. And this girl—despite being neglected—was still their daughter. She couldn't vent her anger on the child. With a huff of suppressed irritation, the woman turned and left.
Yan Tangtang watched her silhouette disappear before letting her face go neutral. She rubbed her aching cheeks.
"Smiling isn't easy. My face is actually sore."
She took a bun from the basket and began eating while neatly packing the original host's clothes. Once she reached a beautiful place, she intended to bury these belongings as a final tribute to the girl who had lived here.