A Real Heiress Quits (GL) - Chapter 2

Yu Xinyue was falling continuously through a vast darkness.

The cold, damp air felt like a surging tide. She felt as though she were in a black ocean, or perhaps a bottomless abyss. A faint smile played at the corners of her lips. Death? Is this it?

Then, a cheerful, tinkling piano melody broke the eternal silence. The melody was strangely familiar. She looked up and saw golden musical notes dancing in the dark night like fluttering bees and butterflies.

Yu Xinyue reached out, wanting to catch a glowing note. The moment her fingertips touched it, she was suddenly jolted awake by a booming voice—

“Girl! Are you alright?!”

Yu Xinyue snapped her eyes open, coming face-to-face with a pale visage and a wide, gaping mouth. Startled, she shivered and scrambled backward, her back hitting something long and hard with a sharp pang of pain.

The two blood-red lips flapped again, emitting a worried sound. “Oh dear, she didn’t hit her head, did she? Don’t tell me she’s gone simple.”

A light drizzle. A phone booth with fading red paint. Dim lighting. A public telephone covered in small advertisements.

Yu Xinyue scanned her surroundings, staring at the yellow tungsten bulb above her head as a few small black insects swirled around the light.

“Is this a dream?” she murmured.

“A dream? You aren’t dreaming, you’re awake!” that deafening voice rang out again.

Only then did Yu Xinyue realize the person in front of her wasn’t some soul-reaping ghost, but an older woman wearing a bit too much powder. This helpful “Big Sister” had permed, fluffy curls, a floral dress, and a small leather handbag. The Walkman in her hand was cheerfully playing an old pop song.

A nostalgic lady, Xinyue thought, and then she observed the phone booth.

Strange. How could these still be found in the city? Hadn’t they all been torn down long ago?

Twenty years ago, these phone booths were a common sight on the streets. Each booth held two public phones and was thoughtfully equipped with a long bench. Back then, mobile phones weren’t common. The roads were long and the buses were slow, so people relied on a long telephone wire to send their longing across the miles. Young couples would often sit in these booths all day.

Yu Xinyue turned around. Sure enough, the thing that had poked her back was that narrow wooden bench.

The city had changed beyond recognition over the last few decades. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a public phone booth; for a moment, she felt a pang of nostalgia.

“Sister, which road is this? I can’t believe there are still phone booths here.”

Hearing the word “Sister,” the helpful lady immediately beamed. “Ping’an Road! Aren’t these things everywhere?”

Ping’an Road?

Yu Xinyue frowned. She drove down Ping’an Road frequently—how had she never noticed this booth?

And wait… “everywhere”?

The lady clicked off her music. “Yeah, they’re all over the place. Girl, were you having a nightmare? You gave me quite a fright.”

Yu Xinyue patted her groggy head. “What happened?”

With exaggerated gestures, the lady explained that she had ducked into the booth to escape the rain. While she was listening to music, Xinyue had suddenly fallen off the bench and raised her hand as if possessed, scaring the lady into thinking she’d suffered some kind of injury.

In my dream, I thought I was falling into hell…

Yu Xinyue let out a self-deprecating laugh. Looking outside at the misty drizzle, she saw the rain had let up. she wanted to go out and find where Yan Ji was.

The lady, being extremely helpful, kept asking, “Where are your parents? Why haven’t they picked you up? Do they know you’re out? Here,” she pulled out a phone card. “Hurry and call them. Don’t stay out here. Use my card.”

Yu Xinyue froze. “Parents?”

She stared at the brand-new IC card in the lady’s hand. Suddenly realizing something, she looked down at herself.

A deep blue school uniform. Adidas sneakers spotted with mud. A pair of soft, fair, youthful hands. On her right middle finger, there was a callus from holding a pen too much.

“Girl?” The lady asked worriedly when she saw Xinyue dazed.

Yu Xinyue looked up, her voice trembling with excitement. “What year… what year is it?”

The girl’s porcelain face flushed with excitement, and her eyes sparkled like stars. The lady’s heart skipped a beat—this girl was truly stunning. What a pity, she thought, she really might have hit her head. “It’s the Millennium, of course. The year 2000.”

Yu Xinyue nearly burst into tears. She turned and snatched a newspaper off the floor.

It was an evening entertainment paper. On the front page was a photo of a young woman with a bold headline: “Guangyun Princess Commits Suicide Over Love; A Modern Romeo and Juliet.”

The lady leaned in and commented with a sigh of regret, “That paper is a few days old. Such a beautiful child, what a waste. Qin Liru is cold-hearted, too—he didn’t even attend the funeral because of a business bid. How is money more important than your own daughter?”

Yu Xinyue didn’t care about the tragic beauty. Her eyes were fixed on those tiny black characters: Year 2000.

The hand holding the paper began to shake. The Millennium. The beginning of everything. A time of prosperity. This year, she was fourteen years old. She hadn’t given up on her musical dreams yet. And her aunt, who loved her the most, hadn’t died from complications during childbirth yet.

Drip.

A wet spot bloomed on the newspaper.

The lady panicked, flustered as she pulled out a tissue to wipe Xinyue’s face. “Why are you crying all of a sudden?”

Yu Xinyue sniffed, her eyes curving into crescents. A light like the sun breaking through clouds shone in her clear gaze, and she began to laugh.

At this age, she still had a layer of “baby fat” on her face. Her cheeks were pink, making her look pure and adorable. She didn’t yet have the sharp, aggressive beauty she would develop years later—the snowy skin, raven hair, and crimson lips that made her look like a scorching sun people feared to approach.

“I’m just… truly, so happy.”

Ignoring the kind lady’s attempts to make her stay, Yu Xinyue walked out of the phone booth and into the rain. The dark clouds hung low and the rain intensified, quickly soaking through her clothes until they clung to her skin.

Puddles formed on the ground. Raindrops hit the surface, creating tiny bubbles. Yu Xinyue looked down, stepping on a bubble with every stride, amusing herself like a child. She smiled, as if the last twenty years of drowning in the business world had truly been nothing more than a dream—a dream where she had drifted further and further away from her passions.

Now, that regret was gone.

The Shaman’s necklace hung around her fair neck, swaying. She rubbed the stone, thinking back on those decades and the words Yan Ji had said. She made a silent vow.

Since this necklace actually worked and she had been given this rare second chance, she would never be as weak as she was before. She had paid back the debt of her birth in her previous life. In this life, she would live for herself. She no longer had to care about the Yin family.

Besides, she had always harbored resentment toward them. Yan Ji was right—even a stranger shouldn’t be used by the Yins the way she had been.

Especially since Yu Xinyue was the real Yin family daughter.

She and Yin Jianghan had been swapped shortly after birth. Yin Jianghan took over her life, living in luxury, while Yu Xinyue spent a long, joyless childhood in a poor, patriarchal, and feudal household. Her memories weren’t of colorful dresses or toys, but of sticks, pain, curses, and hunger.

Even after she was found by the Yins, the decade of bonding they had with Yin Jianghan made Xinyue’s position awkward. To them, Yin Jianghan was the “real” daughter in their hearts.

She still remembered the day she first entered the Yin house. The villa was grand and clean, with a massive, brilliant green lawn. Everything inside glittered as if it were glowing. She hadn’t even dared to step on the polished floor; every step felt like walking on clouds. That joy and anticipation were things she would never forget—until the next second, when she saw a girl acting spoiled in her grandmother’s arms.

They were the ones who looked like a happy family.

Yu Xinyue had looked down at her own tattered shoes and silently pulled her foot back. Her grandmother and uncle preferred Yin Jianghan. They constantly compared the two, finding this “granddaughter from the countryside” to be dull and unlovable compared to the princess-like Yin Jianghan.

The human heart is always biased.

Later, Xinyue worked herself to the bone for the family and gave up her music, while Yin Jianghan enjoyed a life of leisure. Even after Yin Jianghan married, she constantly reached out to the family for money. As for her uncle and grandmother, they only looked for Xinyue when there was a problem to be solved; otherwise, their attention was all on Yin Jianghan.

Xinyue’s expression turned mocking as she stared into the torrential rain. In the past, she had told herself her endurance was for the sake of “family,” but in truth, she had been unwilling to let go. She was the one who was supposed to be the daughter. Yin Jianghan had stolen everything…

Forget it.

She felt a sense of release. She didn’t care anymore. To hell with the Yin family. Decades of favoritism had eroded her hope bit by bit, and that long day at the bar had been the final straw. She hadn’t heard what Yin Hongfei said on the phone, but judging by his panic, it was likely a business crisis.

It certainly wasn’t a birthday wish.

Xinyue took a deep breath of the cold, misty air. As the icy rain hit her face, she spread her arms and closed her eyes, laughing until her white teeth showed.

The shackles were off. She was reborn. In this life, she wanted to play the piano. She would play forever.

The pitter-patter of the rain continued, but the cold water hitting her face suddenly seemed to stop. Yu Xinyue opened her eyes in surprise. An umbrella was over her head—a plain, black umbrella.

The young woman holding it had shoulder-length hair and an aura of noble elegance, but she looked exceptionally pale and exhausted. The woman nodded to her, her pale lips trembling as if she wanted to speak, but she said nothing. She simply handed the umbrella to Xinyue.

The gesture wasn’t aggressive, yet it was impossible to refuse.

Yu Xinyue took the umbrella, staring at the woman’s face. She felt a faint sense of familiarity but couldn’t quite place it. She noticed the woman was wearing a black suit with a white flower pinned to her chest.

She was in mourning clothes.

This person looked sixty percent like the photo she had just seen in the newspaper, though her features were more heroic and sharp.

Before Xinyue could process this, the woman continued walking forward, looking absent-minded. She didn’t seem to notice the red light and stepped right onto the crosswalk.

“Wait!”

Yu Xinyue rushed forward and grabbed her wrist. The woman’s hand felt incredibly thin and cold. A car roared past them, splashing muddy water onto the white flower on her chest.

The woman turned back to look at her, her dark eyes like bottomless pools. Yu Xinyue didn’t know what she was thinking. “It’s a red light,” Xinyue said.

The woman stepped back. “Thank you.” Her voice was colder than the rain.

Yu Xinyue stood on her tiptoes, holding the small umbrella high to create a tiny world for the two of them. It was then, as she gazed at the woman’s side profile, that she finally realized where the familiarity came from.

She couldn’t help but blurting out, “Is it you?”