Rebirth: Marriage into a Powerful Family

Chapter4

Yousijia awoke in a haze, rubbing her eyes as consciousness slowly returned.

Her stomach gave a faint protest of hunger.

But the moment she opened her eyes, she froze in disbelief.

Above her head hung a crystal chandelier, vast and ostentatious. Jiang Lingyu had once mocked it, saying the price was outrageously extravagant—so much so that the cost of cleaning it once could buy an entry-level luxury handbag.

This was her bedroom, the one she had lived in from childhood until just before her marriage.

She sat up, the soft gleam of a pale-yellow silk slip dress outlining her graceful figure, the fabric clinging with a comfortable elegance. Beneath her lay a two-meter bed, luxuriously soft—nothing like the cramped, uncomfortable airplane seat she remembered.

Everything around her was achingly familiar, yet her eyes were filled with dazed bewilderment, as though gazing into a dreamscape.

Leaping off the bed, she ignored the ostrich-feathered slippers placed neatly on the floor and dashed barefoot toward the nearby bathroom.

In the mirror above the vanity, her reflection stared back.

A girl barely past twenty, skin luminous with youth. Adequate sleep had left her complexion radiant, with a delicate flush blooming across her cheeks. Her long, slightly curled hair spilled in messy waves over her shoulders. Wide, astonished eyes lent her a soft, almost childlike innocence.

It was her.

Lowering her gaze, she noticed a bottle of perfume by fccr resting on the sink—its centennial edition. She remembered waiting in line at the London flagship store for hours during her time abroad just to secure this limited piece.

That was the year she had returned from her studies in England.

The same year she had become engaged to Gu Yu.

“Jiajia, what are you dawdling for? We’re going to welcome your Brother Gu Yu today. Have you forgotten? Hurry now, don’t keep people waiting—it would be such an embarrassment.”

Her mother’s voice floated in from outside the bedroom door, startling her.

Snatching up her phone, she quickly pieced together the truth of her situation.

Gu Yu—older than her by a year, pursuing a combined bachelor’s and master’s overseas, while she had returned early after her undergraduate degree, unable to adjust to foreign life.

Both the Yu family and the Gu family were prominent names in Nancheng, their residences situated side by side. She and Gu Yu were the epitome of childhood sweethearts, perfectly matched in every sense.

Once, she would have been overjoyed, rushing eagerly to prepare herself. But now, Yousijia was certain—this was no mere dream. There was no excitement in her heart, only a faint urge to escape.

Even before graduation, her mother had reminded her to be ready for a marriage of alliance; her father had already chosen the candidate.

Coddled by privilege, Yousijia had grown up indulged, with a tendency to act on whims. And with a younger sister like Yu Kuiqing—two years her junior yet already a prodigy in the family business, skipping grades, completing both bachelor’s and master’s by twenty, and showering her with gifts like a six-million transfer on her birthday—Yousijia had no need to feel envy. She always knew she was destined to be the one sacrificed for the family’s marriage arrangements.

The family had once given her a choice: either follow the path laid out for her—major in the designated subject, graduate, and inherit the family business—or live freely on dividends, unburdened. Naturally, she chose the latter.

She had no illusions: her father, the patriarch of a financial dynasty rooted in banking for over a century, never enjoyed the idle glamour portrayed in television dramas. He never rested, arriving at the office at seven sharp each day, even through cold winter mornings. She could never endure such hardship, and with Kuiqing’s brilliance, why should she?

The only contention lay in her father’s preference for the Meng family of Beijing over the Gu family next door. To him, Gu Yu’s long-term university girlfriend was evidence enough that he was not serious about Yousijia, whereas the Mengs, with their industrial empire, would make more advantageous in-laws.

But to Yousijia, the idea of marrying a stranger five years her senior in a distant northern city was intolerable. Compared to that, Gu Yu—familiar, close, and once dear to her heart—was the obvious choice.

Later that day, she descended from her room, dressed simply in a plain T-shirt and trousers. It was summer, and though her attire was modest, it was far from cheap. Still, without a single piece of jewelry, it seemed uncharacteristically subdued.

Yu Kuiqing, sitting on the sofa with a financial newspaper in hand just like their father, was the first to notice. “Elder Sister, you’re going dressed like that?” she exclaimed in disbelief.

Their father looked up, brows raised. “Out of money?” he asked, as though ready to hand her an allowance if she admitted it.

Kuiqing added, surprised, “Didn’t you just ask for that blue diamond vintage necklace? I thought Father already bought it for you. What else have you spent on?”

A pang of bittersweet warmth struck Yousijia. She had always been the pampered elder daughter, cherished beyond measure. That sense of belonging had been what she once thought Gu Yu could give her abroad—but she had been wrong.

She raised her brows lightly. “What’s the matter?” Glancing down at her clothes, she added with feigned innocence, “Isn’t it just a casual meal?”

Her tone made it clear—no longer would she dress to dazzle at the mere mention of Gu Yu’s name.

Was he truly worthy?

Kuiqing fell silent, exchanging a startled glance with their father. The truth was no secret: everyone knew of her infatuation with Gu Yu.

At dinner, as she ate heartily, her father tested gently, “Darling, tonight we’re dining with Uncle Gu’s family. You remember, don’t you?”

This was no ordinary dinner. It was a tentative betrothal banquet—a step toward formal engagement, awaiting auspicious dates and official announcements.

“I know,” she replied absently, savoring a spoonful of soup, finding comfort in its familiar taste.

Kuiqing gaped at her, incredulous. “And you’re going looking so… plain?”

Yousijia merely bit into her abalone with contentment, her voice soft and guileless. “What else should I do? We’re only seeing the neighbors next door, aren’t we? Why would I need to dress up?”

The sharp clatter of dropped chopsticks broke the silence.

“Neighbors?” Kuiqing’s voice rose with shock. “Didn’t you once tell Father you wanted to marry him?”