"What you lost was nothing but an exam score. What your little sister lost was a full eighteen years of her own flesh-and-blood family!"

"What do you mean, your score? Where do you get the nerve to say that? If your mother and I hadn’t raised you for eighteen years, even a donkey dragged in off the road could’ve made it into college. That honor should’ve belonged to my real daughter in the first place."

"Big sister, how can you say something like that? You took my place and enjoyed my life for so many years, and you’re still not satisfied? A country girl from some backwater ravine like you ought to go back and live the hard life honestly. And you say the people in the countryside can’t stand you either? That’s because you’re just plain unlikeable. You really are a failure. A dirt girl like you might as well die sooner rather than later!"

...

Those faces and those harsh, stabbing voices in her head all sank away at last into freezing river water. On a bitter winter night, a young life had slipped out of the world in despair.

A few seconds later, Vivienne Calloway suddenly opened her eyes. One small hand pressed hard against her chest as she dragged in breath after breath with difficulty.

The carriage was hot and stuffy, so close it was hard to breathe. The first thing she saw was Genevieve Weston’s fake, sugary face.

Putting on a show of concern, Genevieve reached out as if to touch her. "Sister, you’re not about to throw up in the car, are you? You’re really too delicate. You’ve been carsick the whole way. How are you supposed to survive once you get to the countryside?"

Smack!

A wave of disgust surged up in Vivienne’s chest. She slapped the hand away at once, her face pale as paper.

Genevieve immediately acted as if she’d been hurt, her face full of grievance. "Sister, why are you hitting so hard? Are you blaming me? Fine, fine. If you really don’t want to go back to the countryside, th-then we won’t switch after all."

The moment she finished, the well-kept face of an elegant society wife turned around from the seat beside her.

Mrs. Weston drew together her carefully penciled brows, plainly displeased. "Vivienne Calloway, we’ve spoiled you rotten. Once you get to the countryside and live properly with your real parents, you’d better fix those bad habits of yours. Don’t keep treating yourself like some rich young lady. At least then all the trouble we went to sending you back won’t be for nothing."

Listening to the mother and daughter toss out one sickening line after another, Vivienne fought through the violent swaying of her carsickness and tried to sort out the chaos of memories in her mind.

She had transmigrated.

She had become the vicious supporting girl in a period novel, and that girl happened to have the same name as her: Vivienne Calloway.

A few days ago, the Weston couple had brought back the daughter they had lost, Genevieve Weston, who had grown up in the countryside.

The original Vivienne was the fake heiress, the cannon-fodder side character in the book, the one written only to set off the heroine.

On her eighteenth birthday, she had been told that she was not the Westons’ child at all. Her real parents were in Ji Province, a poor mountain village thousands of miles away, so broke it had nothing to its name.

Now that their real daughter had returned, the whole family talked it over and made the decision without asking the original Vivienne whether she was willing or not. They simply stuffed her into the factory’s car and were sending her straight back to her hometown.

The Weston family in Jingshi didn’t usually show off, but they were moneyed people all the same. The Calloways, on the other hand, were flat broke, stuck deep in some mountain hollow.

The original Vivienne had five blood brothers. But from the time they were little, every last one of them only doted on Genevieve Weston. Even when the Calloways were so poor they could barely keep the pot on the stove, Genevieve had never gone hungry, never done a day of hard labor. The whole family guarded her like she was the pupil of their eye.

And then there was the original Vivienne. After she was sent back to her real father and mother, she didn’t feel like a daughter at all. She felt like some unwanted extra who had barged into the wrong house.

She couldn’t go back to the Westons.

She couldn’t fit into the Calloways.

No one paid her any mind.

Whoever saw her, disliked her.

She was trapped in that poor mountain backwater with no way out.

Later on, when the Weston couple were sent down to the village, the original Vivienne finally snapped. She went half-crazy trying to get rid of Genevieve.

And what happened in the end?

Her family gave up on her completely. Even the childhood sweetheart she had liked for years stood on Genevieve’s side.

At last, carrying a heart full of despair, the original Vivienne threw herself into an icy river.

After she died, Genevieve—the treasure everyone in the family held dear—took the original Vivienne’s college entrance exam score and went off to university. She even helped her exiled parents return to Jingshi, then smoothly married Vivienne’s childhood sweetheart.

As for those brothers from the countryside, Genevieve arranged for them to move into the city and live in big houses. Not one of them married. They spent their whole lives watching over that precious little sister.

The original Vivienne’s death drew no attention at all, and not one person truly missed her. She was only eighteen when she died.

...

Vivienne Calloway clenched her fists so hard her knuckles nearly turned white. The churning in her stomach only got worse.

Before crossing over, she had been a university graduate working as a village official in the twenty-first century. In the dead of winter, at three in the morning, she had run to the east end of the village to help deliver piglets for a sow. After the job was done, she went to the riverside to wash her hands. One careless step, and she slipped.

When she opened her eyes again, she had gone from an overworked village official to Vivienne Calloway, the vicious supporting girl everyone cursed in a doted-on-darling novel.

"Genevieve, you’ve really suffered all these years. If you two hadn’t been switched at birth, how could she have lived such a good life for so long? What right does she have to complain?"

Mrs. Weston held Genevieve Weston’s hand tight, her eyes overflowing with affection. But when she turned to look at Vivienne, all that was left on her face was a tired sigh.

"Vivienne, don’t hold it against us either. Your father and I raised you for all these years. Weren’t you given the best of everything to eat and wear? Now that you and Genevieve are switching back, we’ll also give your family a sum of money. That way, when you go back to the countryside, it won’t be quite so hard on you."

Genevieve Weston nodded hard, smiling like she was waiting to be praised. "Sister, I specially told Mom and Dad how hard things are at home, so they added another ten yuan on top of what they were already giving."

"That makes sixty yuan in all~~"

Mrs. Weston looked deeply pleased. "You sweet child, you just got home and you're already thinking about how to help your family live a little better."

"Mom, well, I’ve got you with me now~" Genevieve said, acting spoiled like a little girl.

Vivienne Calloway lowered her lashes. In the original story, the Weston family had indeed given a sum of money, but every bit of it had been taken by the family in the countryside and used to support Genevieve. The original Vivienne had not seen a single cent.

It was true the Westons had raised her. But they also stole her college entrance exam result and cold-bloodedly decided the course of her life. Did they really think they bore no responsibility at all?!

And besides, sixty yuan was a lot to ordinary people, sure, but to the Weston family, it was no more than one month of Mr. Weston’s wages.

The latest watch on Genevieve’s wrist alone cost over two hundred.

To put it plainly, this sixty yuan was just hush money, tossed out like charity.

Vivienne was getting more and more annoyed. Listening to the mother and daughter go on and on, she finally snapped.

"Can you two stop already? If you want to play loving mother and daughter, do it when you get home. I’m not interested in sitting here watching your little show."

Mr. Weston, driving in the front, immediately darkened his face. His tone turned sharp. "Vivienne, what kind of talk is that? Have you no manners at all?"

Fighting down the dizziness and the spinning in her head, Vivienne crossed her arms over her chest. "You know manners? If you know manners, does that mean you get to use my exam score to pave the way for your real daughter? If you know manners, does that mean you can toss me back like I’m a piece of trash? And then throw sixty yuan at the Calloway family like it’s some grand act of charity?"

Vivienne had always been gentle and obedient in the Weston house, every inch the proper young lady. So when she suddenly turned this cold, this sharp, this aggressive, even Mr. Weston, with both hands on the wheel, was caught off guard.

Genevieve bit her lip, her hands twisting tightly together. "Sister, don’t fight with Mom and Dad. They just think it’s pitiful that I never got to study. If you really don’t want to, then I won’t go. I won’t fight you for it..."

The second Mrs. Weston heard that, she was displeased. Her face stiffened at once. "What do you mean, fight for it or not? Who exactly took whose place? Xinxin, we fed you and raised you well for eighteen years. Those eighteen years were supposed to be Baozhu’s life. You were the one who took what was hers."

"If we hadn’t paid for your schooling, do you think you could have gotten into college? Now we’re only asking you to return this college place. What exactly are you making such a fuss about?"

Mr. Weston chimed in from the front too. "That’s right, Xinxin. Anyway, once you go back to the countryside, you won’t be able to come up with the tuition. Better to give the spot to Genevieve."

Vivienne let out a cold laugh. "Your baby got switched at birth. What’s that got to do with me? I got into college on my own ability. Why should I hand it over to Genevieve Weston?"

The original Vivienne had stayed up night after night studying until now. Was it all just to make a wedding dress for someone else? Why should the real daughter be able to step in so easily, take everything that belonged to the original Vivienne, and then go off to college in comfort?

The mix-up was the adults’ doing. Genevieve Weston was a victim, sure—but wasn’t Vivienne Calloway one too?

Just because the original Vivienne had lived a little better these past eighteen years, did that make her the villain who’d wronged the real daughter?

The car went dead quiet.

Vivienne had thought she might finally get a moment of peace, but out of nowhere Genevieve’s eyes turned red, and she started sniffling and crying.

"Vivienne, I know you feel awful inside, but it’s not like I absolutely have to take this college place. I just... I just envy you, that’s all. You had Mom and Dad loving you since you were little, you wore nice clothes, you could ride in cars when you went out. And once you got into college, you’d meet so, so many friends."

Her eyes brimmed with tears. "Vivienne, didn’t you already say you’d give the college spot to me? Why change your mind all of a sudden? Do you have some other plan? I can understand it. Life in the countryside really is hard. But if there’s something you can’t say out loud, then just tell Mom and Dad plainly. Even if you’re not their real daughter, we’re still family. What is there to be ashamed of?"

Genevieve’s words were neat and polished, not a crack in them. Every line, whether openly or in secret, steered things back to money and benefits.

It was like Mr. and Mrs. Weston had been jolted awake. The way they looked at Vivienne changed at once—mixed up with something tangled, but more than that, clear disdain. In their hearts, they had already settled it: Vivienne was kicking up a fuss for money.

Vivienne only felt her head buzzing louder and louder. Genevieve kept yammering on like a fly that wouldn’t quit. Her stomach churned so hard she couldn’t hold it in anymore.

The moment Genevieve noticed her face, she gave a fake little gasp. "Vivienne, you’re not about to throw up in the car, are you? This is Dad’s factory car!"

Vivienne smiled faintly and shook her head. No, she would not vomit in the car.

Then the burning in her stomach surged straight up.

"Urgh—!"

Vivienne bent her head toward Genevieve’s side, and everything she’d been fighting from the motion sickness came pouring out, splashing all over the just-finished-talking Genevieve.

Mrs. Weston, sitting in the front and still holding Genevieve’s hand, got hit too.

The vomit stuck in their carefully styled hair, and even the fashionable dresses they had picked out so carefully were ruined beyond saving.

Sticky liquid slid down their faces, all the way to their chins.

Time seemed to freeze.

The whole world went silent.

Only that sour, rancid smell hung in the air.

A twisted, off-key scream finally burst out of Genevieve’s throat.

"Ah!"