Ch 32: After My Mother Returned to the Rich Family

In the dream, Ruan Cha wasn’t simply reading the book; she became an invisible observer, witnessing every moment of “Ruan Cha’s” life over two short years after returning to the Liang family from the small town.

Though merely an onlooker, their emotions were interconnected. The joys and sorrows of the book’s “Ruan Cha” resonated deeply within her. However, despite feeling everything, she could not interfere. All she could do was watch helplessly as this vibrant, lively version of herself withered in the blood-soaked darkness, slowly fading away until death claimed her.

To be honest, after carefully observing the events, Ruan Cha realized that the family situation described in the book was significantly different from her current reality.

In her real life, she had a grandfather she had only ever heard about but never met. Her parents, with barely passing grades, graduated from a local university. Her father now earned money by renting out properties, while her mother tended a vegetable garden. Meanwhile, she lived an idle, carefree life. The three of them, though ordinary and laid-back, lived happily like contented slackers.

Thanks to the uncles and aunties she had met in the small town, she had a knack for English and math. Without their influence, she probably wouldn’t have been able to take the lead on her first day of school.

But in the book, things were different.

Ruan Zhengfei, the father in the story, had been separated from his family since childhood and grew up in a welfare home alongside Wei Jiao, his childhood sweetheart. After high school, neither went to college, instead opening a small restaurant together. Later, the couple had “Ruan Cha.” Though their days were busy, they were filled with happiness.

The “Ruan Cha” in the book grew up playing and studying like any other child. Although she had a decent memory, her inability to sit still meant her grades were only average.

From the perspective of the book’s “Ruan Cha,” her family’s misfortune began the moment they moved into the Liang family home. Within just one month, she had become both ugly and dumb.

What “Ruan Cha” couldn’t accept was that among everyone she knew—whether the Liang family or her own parents—none of them expressed much concern about her worsening appearance and intelligence. Apart from some initial reactions when her looks began to change, they quickly accepted it as normal.

It was as if, in their memories, “Ruan Cha” had always been a little dim-witted and naive. As for being ugly? To her parents, she had never been anything but beautiful.

Night after night, in the darkest hours, only “Ruan Cha” would sit alone, staring blankly into the mirror in her room. She would trace her reflection with trembling fingers, as if trying to remember the face she once had. In those moments, it felt like “Ruan Cha’s” soul had been torn into two separate entities.

One voice said, “You’ve always been ugly and dumb,” while another argued, “No, you used to be beautiful and clever, but everything changed after you returned to the Liang family!”

After the monthly exams, “Ruan Cha” began taking selfies, hoping to use them as evidence to prove to her family that she was inexplicably becoming uglier.

However, on the day of the art festival, when “Ruan Cha” noticed she had become even uglier and checked the photos on her phone, what she saw left her utterly shocked and plunged her into further self-doubt.

The person in the photos looked identical to her post-festival self! There was no evidence of her becoming uglier. Everything seemed like an illusion she had created, unable to accept her unattractive appearance.

“Ruan Cha” not only noticed her declining looks but also her worsening memory in class. Poems she used to memorize effortlessly now took her ages to barely recall. Among the high-performing students in Class 2, she became an anomaly.

During lessons, she was often called to the blackboard to recite or write. No matter how hard she tried, she would leave large sections blank, standing alone at the front while the entire class laughed at her.

Night after night, “Ruan Cha” struggled to sleep, and her mental state began to deteriorate.

As for the Liang family, their fortunes also took a nosedive. Old Master Liang’s health inexplicably declined, confining him to bed. Projects in the company were repeatedly sabotaged, accidents plagued their associates, and almost every misfortune imaginable befell them.

The Liang family’s worsening situation led those in their social circle to believe that “Ruan Cha” and her parents were bringers of bad luck, harbingers of misfortune who had cursed the Liang family.

With the Liang family and Ruan Cha’s parents overwhelmed by endless troubles, no one noticed the changes in “Ruan Cha.”

It wasn’t until the midterm exams of the first semester of her second year that “Ruan Cha,” dejected, handed in her test paper. The questions on the exam were incomprehensible to her, as if written in an alien language.

After leaving the classroom, she absentmindedly looked up—and saw a floating panel above Ren Qingqing’s head!

Exhausted from countless sleepless nights and mentally on the verge of collapse, “Ruan Cha” froze when she saw the system panel. The glowing √ marking the completion of Task B left her completely stunned.

When she saw the words “Extracting the intelligence and beauty points of the associated target ‘Ruan Cha’” written on the floating panel and realized how much Ren Qingqing’s features now resembled her own former self, “Ruan Cha” couldn’t hold back any longer. She rushed forward, grabbed Ren Qingqing by the shoulders, and demanded to know why she had stolen her attributes and cheated!

The outcome was inevitable.

“Ruan Cha” had no evidence. The classroom cameras confirmed that Ren Qingqing hadn’t cheated. Although the true culprit, Ren Qingqing, graciously stated that she wouldn’t hold a grudge against “Ruan Cha,” the baseless accusation against the school beauty and top student only made “Ruan Cha” a bigger target for ridicule at school.

Even with Fu Chen’s occasional care and support, the relentless targeting eventually caused “Ruan Cha” to develop a deep aversion to school.

Consumed by this aversion, “Ruan Cha” began to hate herself—even the reflection she saw in the mirror. The face looking back at her had become entirely unfamiliar, a stranger she couldn’t accept.

It wasn’t until darkness engulfed everything around her that Ruan Cha abruptly woke from her dream.

Her dark eyes were wide open, showing no trace of sleep. The corners of her reddened eyes burned unnaturally, and tears glistened like a mist in her gaze. A thin layer of sweat covered her pale forehead.

Her pillow was damp—whether from sweat or tears, it was hard to tell.

Ruan Cha stared blankly at the ceiling for a long time, lost in thought. Trembling, she raised one hand to touch her chest, where her heart pounded furiously, like it might burst out of her body at any moment. Her other hand gripped the edge of the bed tightly, her knuckles pale.

Even though she was awake, the scenes from the book remained vivid in her mind.

In the book, after seeing herself grow uglier with her own eyes, “Ruan Cha” began to fear mirrors, sunlight, and even her own reflection. She feared others seeing her face just as much.

From morning to night, “Ruan Cha” locked herself in her dark bedroom. Every mirror in the room had to be removed, and the curtains had to be drawn completely shut. If anyone opened the door and let sunlight in, “Ruan Cha” would have an emotional breakdown and cry uncontrollably.

She had desperately wanted to tell her family about what she had seen—that, even if only once, she had genuinely seen a floating panel above Ren Qingqing’s head. That panel could extract her intelligence and beauty points.

But no matter how much “Ruan Cha” shouted, whether it was the name Ren Qingqing or words related to beauty and intelligence points, she couldn’t say or write a single one.

Every attempt ended in failure, and worse, brought her excruciating headaches and heart palpitations.

Eventually, her family, at their wits’ end, hired a seasoned psychologist in hopes of addressing “Ruan Cha’s” mental state and helping her regain the confidence to face sunlight.

Who could have expected—

Her condition didn’t improve but worsened.

And it ultimately led to her death.

Ruan Cha looked around her dim bedroom, where the moonlight was blocked by curtains. Her gaze grew heavy with thought. Had the “Ruan Cha” from the book shut herself away in such an oppressive environment for so long?

After revisiting the entirety of the book in her dream, Ruan Cha became convinced that the parents in the story were strikingly similar to her real-life parents, aside from their level of slacker tendencies. Their hobbies and habits were nearly identical.

As for the personality, interests, and approach to life of the book’s “Ruan Cha,” they were almost identical to her own. Throughout the dream, Ruan Cha repeatedly felt as though she was reviewing her past life.

If that were the case, why were the circumstances of the book’s family of three different from what she was currently experiencing?

Ruan Cha stared at the ceiling, replaying the people and events in her life in her mind.

A few minutes later, she suddenly realized there were two key differences. First, she had a grandfather she’d never met in real life. Second, her mother’s gardening skills had improved dramatically.

One rented out properties, the other sold vegetables—these two differences allowed her family to become content slackers, and she herself was slightly more optimistic than the “Ruan Cha” in the book, with a few more skills under her belt.

As for the psychologist in the book—

Ruan Cha’s gaze flickered, and her throat felt dry. That psychologist was the same person who later appeared in the entertainment industry and supported Ren Qingqing as a mentor. His appearance and name were identical.

A man named Yu Zheng.

Two simple characters, etched into Ruan Cha’s memory since her dream, along with his features, which were now engraved in her mind.

In the later stages of the story, the complete collapse of “Ruan Cha” was inseparable from Yu Zheng’s so-called psychological treatment. By the time her overwhelmed parents realized something was wrong with their daughter, it was already too late.

“Ren Qingqing, Yu Zheng, you both #￥￥%!!!” Ruan Cha wished she could curse the two of them for three days and nights, verbally tearing them apart inside and out. Did she throw them into the ocean to feed sharks in her past life? Why else would one of them want her beauty and intelligence points, and the other her life?

After venting in a hushed voice, Ruan Cha lowered her eyes to the blanket clutched tightly in her hands. The usual clarity in her gaze had darkened considerably.

In the book, the “Ruan Cha” had died far too early. Her death had marked the end of her story, and Ruan Cha had woken up before she could learn the reasons behind her parents’ subsequent fates—one dead, the other driven mad.

Yet her intuition told her that it was all intricately tied to Ren Qingqing. After all, in the moments before “Ruan Cha” died, she had finally broken free from her inexplicable restraints and managed to utter three words: Ren Qingqing. But only those three words.

Ruan Cha understood clearly: once her family had heard those words, they would never ignore them. They would undoubtedly investigate further.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Ruan Cha glanced at the wall clock. It was just past 4 AM, but the unsettling scenes from her dream had completely banished any trace of sleepiness.

The Ren Qingqing in the book was practically shrouded in the glow of a protagonist’s halo. Anyone who went up against her suffered misfortune. Her beauty and intelligence were almost entirely built on what had been stripped from “Ruan Cha.” Yet none of this was visible to the book’s readers. All they saw was Ren Qingqing’s relentless determination, completing task after task and gradually elevating herself in every way.

Ruan Cha rubbed her eyes, got out of bed, and sat down at her desk. Taking a deep breath, she opened her laptop and typed into the search bar: Yu Zheng, psychologist.

“No results?” Refusing to give up, she tried several other browsers, but the outcome was the same. There was no mention of a renowned psychologist named Yu Zheng. Staring at the screen filled with useless information, Ruan Cha’s lips gradually pressed into a thin line.

“Too strange.”