Forced into a Secret Marriage with the Villain, We Now Have a Child - Chapter 20

On Sunday evening, Jian Chun took a leave of absence from school to accompany Yu Siyi to a formal banquet—the fiftieth birthday celebration of Zhu Feifei’s father.

The Zhu and Yu families were old family friends. After the college entrance exams, Zhu Feifei had studied design and now served as a design director at her family’s company. Her mother, however, was preoccupied with Feifei’s lackluster dating life. Seeing Yu Siyi arrive with Jian Chun, Mother Zhu’s face lit up with a smile.

“Siyi, Chun-chun, you’re here! Go on in; I’ll have Feifei keep you company.”

The banquet was filled with the wealthy and influential. Yu Siyi, despite her celebrity status, didn’t hide. In this circle, people respected her family background and her own successful investments as much as her acting career.

Jian Chun and Yu Siyi wore custom-made gowns by a famous designer—identical in style but differing in color and detail. Inside the hall, Jian Chun felt out of place among the strangers, her only acquaintance being Zhu Feifei.

“You’re early! Let’s talk over here,” Feifei said, gesturing toward a lounge area.

As they sat, Yu Siyi naturally handed Jian Chun a plate of mango—her favorite. Jian Chun accepted it, knowing that regardless of their private friction, she had to maintain appearances in public.

“Where’s Niannian?” Feifei asked. “She has school tomorrow,” Jian Chun replied. “She needs to sleep early.”

Feifei leaned in, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Chun-chun, I prepared a little surprise for you.” “What surprise?” Jian Chun asked, but Feifei only shot a provocative look at Yu Siyi before walking away.

The Uninvited Student

As Jian Chun scanned the crowd, she noticed someone peeking at them. A teenager in a formal suit quickly averted his gaze.

It was Jin Ziye!

The boy, who had supposedly taken a sick leave from school, was now attending a gala. He eventually walked over, looking much more refined in his suit than his usual rebellious self. He stared at the two women sitting close together on the sofa.

“What is your relationship with Yu Siyi?” he asked Jian Chun bluntly.

Jian Chun remained composed. “It’s exactly what it looks like.”

Yu Siyi’s gaze swept over the boy before settling on Jian Chun. “And who is this?” “He’s my student, Jin Ziye,” Jian Chun explained.

Yu Siyi’s expression softened instantly, and a smile graced her lips. Looking at the stunned boy, she said clearly: “Hello. Since this is our first meeting, allow me to introduce myself—I am your Shimu (Teacher’s Wife).”

Jin Ziye was speechless. “???” He gaped in confusion. “But didn’t you say you had no relationship?!”

Under Jin Ziye’s horrified gaze, Yu Siyi looked at Jian Chun with doting affection. Jian Chun, feeling the world collapse around her, could only mutter, “When did I ever say we weren’t related?”

The Meeting of Rivals

Zhu Feifei returned, leading two women. One was smiling brightly, her arm hooked through the other’s; the latter was indifferent, her gaze fixed only on her partner. They were Yin Weiwei—a famous star—and her partner, Yin Nansi.

“Weiwei-jie, this is your little fan, Jian Chun,” Feifei introduced. “She’s liked you since middle school.”

Immediately, two sharp glares hit Feifei—one from Yu Siyi and one from Yin Nansi.

Yin Weiwei, however, was delighted. She squeezed into the seat between Yu Siyi and Jian Chun, taking Jian Chun’s hand. “Jian Chun? I like you already!”

Jian Chun felt a chill when she met Yin Nansi’s cold eyes. It was obvious the woman didn’t like her. Meanwhile, Weiwei teased Yu Siyi: “I didn’t expect my Junior Sister to have such a cold exterior but a wife at home…”

As the awkward conversation continued, Yin Nansi and Yu Siyi exchanged a look. They stood up with polite, staged smiles, clinking glasses and moving away to talk privately, leaving Jian Chun alone with the bubbly Weiwei.

The Confrontation in the Lounge

After a while, Yin Nansi returned alone. This time, her gaze held a strange hint of… pity?

“I think you should go over there,” Yin Nansi said, pointing toward a rest area. “Your lover has run into some trouble.”

Curious and confused, Jian Chun followed the directions to a private lounge. She pushed the door open, only to see a woman slumped on the floor, clinging to Yu Siyi’s leg and begging.

“Siyi, I was wrong. I’m willing to come back to you. I’ll do anything, just please don’t treat me like this.”

Jian Chun froze. “Am I interrupting?”

The woman on the floor looked up. She was the “delicate flower” type, looking pitiful and fragile. When she saw Jian Chun, her eyes lit up. “Jian Chun! I only love Yu Siyi, we have nothing to do with each other anymore. Please let me go. I know you like me best, please help me!”

Jian Chun’s skin crawled. That face. It was too familiar. “Feng Xue, that’s enough,” Yu Siyi said coldly.

Feng Xue. The original protagonist of the book. The woman Jian Chun had tried so hard to avoid. Here she was, not as a successful heroine, but in a state of pathetic desperation.

The Breaking Point

Jian Chun watched the scene—Feng Xue loved Yu Siyi, the “original” Jian Chun loved Feng Xue, and therefore the “original” hated Yu Siyi. It was a messy, toxic circle.

Half an hour later, after a silent dinner and a quiet drive home, the tension reached its peak. Jian Chun began packing her things.

“It’s inconvenient for you to live outside,” Yu Siyi said softly. “I have a scheduled appearance tomorrow. If you don’t want to see me, I won’t show my face.”

Jian Chun stopped. She turned to Yu Siyi. “Yu Siyi, you understand that this marriage is only being sustained by you alone. I’m tired. We’re both just lying to ourselves.”

Yu Siyi’s smile was forced and painful. That night, Jian Chun slept in Niannian’s room, her heart a chaotic mess.

The Twist

The next morning, Jian Chun was awakened by a cacophony of noise.

The sound of children playing, street vendors shouting from below, and someone calling her name. The cicadas were already buzzing in the morning heat.

Jian Chun opened her eyes and blinked at her surroundings. It was her old desk. Her mirror reflected a face that was youthful, blurred with sleep, with the red mark of a pillow on her cheek. Under her arm was a messily written “Letter of Repentance.”

She stared out the window at the familiar scenery of her youth.

It was as if she had just woken up from a long, vivid dream of the future.