Sister, Please Have Some Self-Respect, I'm Your Sister-in-Law - Chapter 1

The bone-chilling cold pierced through Lin Yuehe’s consciousness like countless tiny needles, jolting her awake.

Her eyes snapped open, and she found herself staring at a suffocatingly low ceiling made of thatched straw mixed with mud.

A musty, earthy stench, tinged with the faint odor of livestock manure, flooded her nostrils, triggering a fit of coughing.

How had she, a newly graduated agricultural student who had merely tripped in the experimental fields, ended up here?

Beneath her lay a rock-hard wooden bed covered with coarse, threadbare cloth that chafed her skin.

The burning hunger in her stomach and the fragmented memories of another “Lin Yuehe” that had suddenly appeared in her mind coldly confirmed the truth: she had transmigrated.

She had been transported to a non-historical dynasty called Great Ye, a land gripped by a famine during the lean season between harvests.

In this desolate era, she had transmigrated into the body of a wretched girl.

The original Lin Yuehe was an orphaned girl whose parents had died. Her distant uncle and aunt resented her as a burden and were preparing to “dispose” of her.

“Lazy girl, wake up and get moving! Do you think you’re some pampered Eldest Miss?”

The shrill voice, accompanied by the sound of a door slamming open, belonged to Madam Wang, a stout woman with her hands on her hips. Her spittle nearly sprayed Lin Yuehe’s face.

“Consider yourself lucky! Landlord Song’s family is seeking a bride for their sickly youngest son as a marriage of good fortune. The dowry includes a whole sack of millet! Hurry and get ready! The matchmaker will be here soon to take you for the viewing!”

Landlord Song’s family? A marriage of good fortune? A sickly youngest son?

Lin Yuehe’s heart sank.

This starting point is practically hell-level difficulty.

Yet she swiftly suppressed her surging emotions. Her survival instinct took over, and she forced herself to regain her composure.

She was Lin Yuehe, and whether in the modern world or this ancient era, her first priority was to survive.

“Auntie, I… I’ll get up right away,” she croaked, feigning weakness as she struggled to sit up.

Her gaze, however, surreptitiously swept toward the corner of the room, where a few shriveled, moldy grains of wheat lay, treasures the original owner had cherished but failed to store properly.

As Madam Wang half-pushed and half-dragged her out of the room and past the hardened, barren patch of land in the courtyard corner, Lin Yuehe seized her chance. She swiftly bent down and snatched up the shriveled grains, clenching them tightly in her palm.

Almost instinctively, she scattered the shriveled wheat grains into the parched cracks in the soil, her fingertips unconsciously tapping lightly.

Originally, she had only intended to spitefully waste a bit of grain before leaving this place.

Originally, she had stuffed the grains into the cracks, turned, and followed Madam Wang out the door. But the transformation of the wheat grains was so rapid that it happened before she could even turn around.

In an instant, a tender, vibrant green shoot pierced through the hardened earth. It sprouted, unfurled leaves, and even produced a small, unusually plump cluster of wheat ears, all at a speed visible to the naked eye.

The ears were heavy and golden, and they stood in stark contrast to the surrounding desolate, withered landscape.

Lin Yuehe’s heart pounded wildly as she forcibly suppressed the gasp that nearly escaped her lips.

This… is this my golden finger? A bonus for transmigrating?

Madam Wang clearly noticed the out-of-season green patch as well. She rubbed her eyes and muttered, “What the hell? Something actually growing in this forsaken place?”

But she was too eager for the bag of millet to investigate further, dismissing it as a trick of the light. She shoved Lin Yuehe roughly. “Stop dawdling! Move it!”

*****

The Song family’s brick-and-tile house stood out as remarkably grand in this impoverished rural area.

Lin Yuehe lowered her head and followed the matchmaker through the modest but meticulously clean front courtyard.

She could feel scrutinizing gazes from the main hall—critical, assessing, as if evaluating merchandise.

She cooperated fully, answering every question with docile obedience, like a rabbit.

Landlord Song and Madam Song seemed dissatisfied with her frail physique, but when they heard the matchmaker’s assurances of “compatible horoscopes” and “good childbearing potential,” and after observing her pale yet undeniably delicate features, they finally nodded in agreement.

The marriage was hastily arranged, with the wedding set for three days later.

As the matchmaker bowed obsequiously, preparing to lead her away, a cool, clear voice rang out from the veranda:

“Father, Mother, the new batch of hemp cloth from the estate has been inspected. The quality is acceptable; it’s perfect for making a few new outfits for my younger brother.”

Lin Yuehe instinctively looked up.

A woman in simple blue robes glided toward them.

Tall and slender, with dark hair neatly coiled and secured with a plain silver hairpin, her features weren’t strikingly beautiful, but like distant mountain peaks shrouded in mist, her aloof elegance carried a scholarly air.

Her gaze, calm as still water, swept over Lin Yuehe without condescension or curiosity, merely offering a slight nod as acknowledgment.

In that instant, Lin Yuehe felt as if the surrounding clamor had receded into the distance.

All the fear, anxiety, and forced composure she had carried since her arrival in this world seemed to settle under the woman’s clear, spring-like gaze.

It had to be said, the “flower-obsessed” affliction couldn’t be cured simply by changing locations.

Lin Yuehe noticed the woman’s slender fingers gently stroking the linen she held, her nails neatly trimmed and clean.

“Thank you for your trouble, Qingshuang,” Madam Song said, her tone softening slightly. “This is… the bride we’ve arranged for your younger brother, Madam Lin.”

The woman called Qingshuang turned her gaze to Lin Yuehe again, this time with a hint of pity in her eyes. The emotion quickly vanished, leaving only a detached observation: “Since this is my younger brother’s fate, I hope they can live peacefully together.”

Her voice was soft yet each word rang clear.

Lin Yuehe’s heart skipped a beat for no apparent reason. She hurriedly lowered her head, her voice barely audible: “Yes, Eldest Miss.”

Even after being led away from the Song family, Lin Yuehe’s mind remained unsettled.

Eldest Miss Song Qingshuang had unexpectedly shone a light into her chaotic, war-torn world.

The future remained uncertain, with her yet-to-meet “husband” being the greatest variable.

But at least she still possessed her golden finger ability.

That should be enough to ensure her survival in this turbulent era, allowing her to live an ordinary life with enough to eat, right?

****

Three days passed in a flash.

Without the traditional six betrothal gifts or the boisterous fanfare of a wedding procession, Lin Yuehe was carried from her dilapidated thatched hut in a simple sedan chair—so plain its color barely stood out—to a clean, orderly side courtyard chamber in the Song family’s estate.

The wedding ceremony had been stripped to its bare essentials.

Like a puppet on strings, she was guided through the rites; the faces of Landlord Song and his wife blurred in her peripheral vision.

Only Song Qingshuang, seated nearby in a pale blue dress, left a distinct, cool shadow in her downward gaze.

Throughout the entire ceremony, her nominal “husband”, Song Zhiyuan, the Song family’s youngest son—never made an appearance.

He claimed to be unwell, fearing he might spread his illness.

The few guests whispered among themselves, and Lin Yuehe pieced together their unspoken words:

A bride for good luck? She’s nothing but an object.

She gripped her sleeve, where a small packet of wild chrysanthemum petals that she secretly harvested and dried over the past two days lay hidden, their faint, bitter fragrance keeping her alert.

As night fell, she was finally left alone in the chamber.

The flickering red candles cast a warm, illusory glow across the room, illuminating the perfunctorily pasted “囍” (which means ‘double happiness’) character on the window lattice.

Lin Yuehe sat upright on the edge of the bed, covered with a bright red quilt embroidered with mandarin ducks, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest.

She had already lifted her veil and tossed it aside. She had no patience for such formalities and no desire to feign shyness.

She was waiting… waiting for the man who would determine her fate tonight and for the rest of her life.

Footsteps approached from a distance, growing closer with a slight unsteadiness, until they stopped outside the door.

Every muscle in Lin Yuehe’s body tensed instantly, like a small animal poised to strike.

She quietly reached under the pillow, where she had hidden a sharpened wooden hairpin—her last line of defense.

With a creak, the door swung open.

A tall, slender young man entered.

He wore a bright red wedding robe that made his face appear unnaturally pale. His features were strikingly handsome, but his eyes held a weariness and… a distinct hint of melancholy.

This was Song Zhiyuan.

It seemed he, too, was unwilling to go through with this marriage.

Lin Yuehe relaxed slightly.

Song Zhiyuan looked up and met Lin Yuehe’s wary eyes as she sat on the edge of the bed. He paused, momentarily taken aback.

Clearly, he hadn’t expected his “auspicious bride” to be like this—no tears, no timidity. Her clear, bright eyes held undisguised scrutiny and defensiveness.

Song Zhiyuan closed the door behind him but didn’t immediately approach. Instead, he leaned against the doorframe, clearing his throat twice to break the silence. “You… you must be Madam Lin?”

His voice was clear and resonant, tinged with a sickly rasp that was surprisingly pleasant.

“Yes,” Lin Yuehe replied crisply, her gaze remaining fixed on him, scrutinizing every subtle movement.

Song Zhiyuan seemed slightly unnerved by her direct stare. He rubbed his temples, a wry smile flickering across his face.

Suddenly straightening, he bowed deeply and solemnly to Lin Yuehe.

“Miss Lin,” he addressed her, his tone earnest, “today’s events stem from my parents’ excessive concern for their son, which has caused you this inconvenience.

Neither of us wants this marriage. I… I already have someone in my heart. Circumstances have forced me to ask you to temporarily reside here.”

Lin Yuehe froze, stunned.

This opening gambit completely defied her expectations.

Seeing her silence, Song Zhiyuan seemed to steel himself. He took a deep breath, lowering his voice to a desperate, almost reckless candor:

“To be frank, Miss Lin… I am unable to fulfill the marital duties of a husband.”

“I… I’ve always been attracted to men.”

!!!!

Lin Yuehe’s eyes widened in shock. She had imagined countless possibilities.

She had braced herself for a sickly, lecherous “husband,” or a crude, boorish one. She had even prepared to fight to the death if necessary. But she had never, ever considered… this outcome!

Gay?

Her “husband” was naturally gay?!

Heavens, who could understand this? She had traveled across time and space, only to end up in a forced marriage?!

A wave of absurdity and relief washed over her, leaving her momentarily speechless.

She stared intently at Song Zhiyuan, searching his face for any sign of deception.

Lin Yuehe’s tense body suddenly relaxed. The hand that had been clutching the wooden hairpin beneath the pillow loosened, and she casually rested it on her knee.

“So that’s how it is…” she murmured softly.

Under Song Zhiyuan’s astonished gaze, she lifted her head, met his eyes, and offered him the first genuine smile she had shown since her arrival.

“What a coincidence,” she said, her tone as light as if discussing the weather. “I don’t like men either.”

This time, it was Song Zhiyuan who froze completely.

He opened his mouth, his handsome face etched with disbelief. His usually weary eyes widened instantly, as if he had just heard the most inconceivable thing in the world.

The red candle crackled softly, its flickering light illuminating the newly minted “couple”: one sitting on the edge of the bed with a subtle smile, the other leaning against the door, utterly dumbfounded.

Their wedding night, which should have been a night of consummation, had veered off in an entirely unpredictable direction—absurd, yet brimming with possibilities.

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