Summer, 1975.
Xishan Village.
Vivian Clark's mind woke up before her body did.
It felt like being submerged in murky water. All she could hear was a constant buzzing noise, muffled and unclear, like it was coming through a thick barrier.
Suddenly, a strong force grabbed her shoulders and shook her violently, as if trying to shake her awake at all costs. The sheer strength of it made her feel like her insides were being rattled around.
"Lazy girl!"
"Still playing dead? Get up now!"
"The leaders are outside waiting, and you're lying here pretending to be a corpse?"
"If you don't move, I'll skin you alive today!"
A shrill, piercing woman's voice tore through that hazy barrier as a sharp pain hit the spot right above her lips.
"Hiss—"
Vivian drew in a sharp breath. Finally, she managed to lift her heavy eyelids.
Dim light filtered in, and at first, all she could see was a blur. Slowly, her vision cleared.
What came into focus was a thin, dark-skinned middle-aged woman with a face full of mean, harsh features. She was leaning so close that her spit almost sprayed onto Vivian’s face.
The woman was so close that Vivian could see the yellow crust in the corners of her eyes. Her breath, reeking of garlic, hit directly into Vivian’s face. What a mess.
Vivian Clark’s heart tensed, and without thinking, she jerked back in fear, sitting up abruptly.
The motion was too sudden, and a wave of dizziness hit her hard. Her vision darkened, and she almost collapsed back down.
Where... where even was this?
Vivian stared around the space in confusion.
Her face was frozen in disbelief.
This wasn’t her room.
This place didn’t even look like it could be called a room.
It was cramped, low, and dimly lit.
Overhead, the dark beams were coated in cobwebs. The walls were made of rough, crumbling dirt blocks, the plaster peeling off in chunks, revealing patches of brownish mud mixed with grass beneath.
A pile of firewood and random junk was shoved into one corner.
The air was thick with an unpleasant mix of smells—dampness, years of built-up dust, and a faint, unmistakable whiff of manure from some animal’s stall.
The “bed” wasn’t much better. It wasn’t even a real bed. It was more like a bundle of dry, scratchy hay piled onto a dirt platform, topped with tattered, musty quilts.
The surface was so hard it hurt to sit on, and an awful sour stench wafted from those quilts, like they hadn’t been aired out in ages.
In just a few moments, she had taken in the full, miserable picture of the room. Vivian Clark lowered her head and looked at the coarse, ill-fitting clothes on her body, then at her hands, which were rough and calloused.
One thing was clear—this wasn’t her body.
She clearly remembered just a moment ago, lying on her soft, comfortable bed in her villa, reading a novel.
How did she end up here?
Martha Judge noticed Vivian sitting on the bed, staring blankly into space, completely motionless. She walked over and reached out, trying to pinch the tender flesh on Vivian’s arm.
Her reflexes kicked in before she had time to think—Vivian instinctively dodged away.
Who on earth is this crazy old lady?!
It must’ve been her earlier; she must’ve been the one shaking Vivian so hard, nearly knocking her head off.
Vivian’s shoulders and the area above her lip still hurt like hell now.
Fury rose like a fire inside her, but her dizziness, the stars swirling before her eyes, and her weak limbs made it impossible for her to do anything about it. Otherwise, she would’ve jumped right up and given this nasty woman a good slap.
Martha was furious after seeing Vivian dodge. "This useless brat! How dare she avoid me!"
Rolling up her sleeves, ready to give Vivian what she felt she deserved, she stepped closer.
"Leave her alone, Martha! She just woke up, don’t be like that..."
A gentle voice suddenly interrupted, stopping Martha in her tracks. Her hand froze mid-air, and that fierce expression vanished in an instant, replaced by a familiar, ingratiating smile reserved only for the masters of the house. The way her face changed was faster than flipping a page.
"Yes, yes, Deputy Commander Medlin, I'm just worried you and Commander Foster might be kept waiting."
"This girl just woke up and is a bit dazed."
"Let me help her snap out of it."
After finishing, Martha Judge turned and leaned closer to Vivian Clark, lowering her voice so only the two of them could hear.
With venom in her tone, she hissed a warning.
"Get up now! Did you hear me?"
"And when we get back, if you dare spout nonsense, I swear I’ll deal with you properly!"
Her gaze was as sharp and poisonous as a dagger coated in venom.
Vivian closed her eyes briefly, suppressing the fury bubbling within her. If looks could kill, that old woman would’ve met her end a hundred times over already. She tried to move, but her body remained limp and powerless.
No chance, there was no way to fight back.
Diana Medlin stepped forward, her face soft and kind as she looked at Vivian.
"Sweetheart, I’m your mother, Diana Medlin."
She gestured toward the middle-aged man in the military uniform nearby.
"And this is your father, Richard Foster."
Finally, she pulled a young girl in a pink checked dress closer and introduced her:"This is your sister, Alina Foster."
"Don't be scared, we'll be one family from now on."
Diana Medlin? Richard Foster? Alina Foster?
Vivian Clark lifted her eyes, glancing toward the direction of the voice.
The woman standing there was strikingly beautiful. Her short, neat bob framed her face perfectly, giving her neck a graceful length. She was dressed in a well-ironed Dacron blouse, the collar folded just right, exuding an air of tidiness. Her face carried a gentle smile.
Behind her, the man stood tall in full military uniform. His forehead was broad, with a square-cut face, sharp eyes that held a complex kind of scrutiny.
Vivian was about to look away when her gaze accidentally landed on the girl beside Diana Medlin.
Her body froze.
She stared at the face that was exactly the same as her roommate’s, a face she knew so well.
Her mind went blank for a second before it hit her like a thunderclap.
Could she have ended up inside her roommate Alina Foster’s novel, "The Transmigrated Fake Daughter in the 1970s, Loved by the Officer’s Family"?