Transmigrating As a Poor Fake Heiress with Trillions in Family Asset - Chapter 35

Chapter 35: The Home Appliance Festival Begins

Mrs. Yan wanted to take Wu Lingshan directly to the hospital for an exam—or simply force-feed her a morning-after pill to sever any hope she had of marrying into the Yan family. While she wanted a grandson, she refused to let a woman of such character bear the Yan heir.

But Wu Lingshan hadn’t plotted this far just to give up. Before anyone could react, she sprinted through the crowd, scrambled into an elevator, and slammed the doors shut. Mrs. Yan was left trembling with rage in the hallway. “How can a woman be so shameless?” she sputtered.

Shortly after, Mrs. Yan had Yan Ye carried out of the lounge, and the Wu family, hearing the news, beat a hasty retreat from the gala.

Back at the party, the atmosphere remained elegant, but the whispers were spreading like wildfire. While a few secretively admired Wu Lingshan’s audacity to climb the social ladder, she mostly became the target of ridicule and jealousy.

“Ten minutes? She was in there for less than ten minutes and claims they did it?” one socialite giggled behind her hand. “She’s either a liar or President Yan is… surprisingly fast.”

“Maybe she just has ‘special skills,'” another sneered. “Women that shameless usually do.”

An Siyuan listened to these biting remarks, a cold chill creeping down her spine. She remembered Sang Jing’s warning at the hot pot restaurant and how Sang Jing had intercepted her on the second floor tonight.

If I had walked into that room… they would be talking about me right now.

The realization transformed her feelings for Sang Jing completely. She had moved from jealousy to respect, and finally to deep gratitude. To An Siyuan, Sang Jing was no longer a rival; she was the only person in twenty years who had truly looked out for her. She vowed then and there to treat Sang Jing as her true sister.

…

A Father’s Guilt

On the drive home, An Deming sighed deeply. “Your sister, Sang Jing… she’s been quite good to you.”

An Siyuan looked at him. “Dad, if it had been me in that room tonight, would you have been ashamed or happy?” (She had heard the Wu family was actually secretly pleased at the prospect of the “entrapment” working).

“Ashamed, of course,” An Deming grunted. “The An family isn’t that desperate. A scandal like that would have finished the Group’s reputation.”

He realized then how wrong he had been. He had listened to his wife’s poison for too long, believing Sang Jing was a talentless “white-eyed wolf.” Seeing her navigate the gala with grace and watching her protect Siyuan made him feel a profound sense of guilt.

Determined to make amends, An Deming called Sang Jing a few days later. When she finally answered (after hanging up on the unrecognized number once), he stammered, “It’s me… your father—I mean, your Uncle An.”

Sang Jing was cold, assuming he wanted to haggle over their business contract again. Instead, he apologized. “I’ve realized a lot lately. I want to compensate you. I know you don’t lack for much, but please take 100 million yuan as pocket money.”

Sang Jing refused immediately, but the system pinged: [Plot Deviation +2%]. She felt a strange, lingering ache in her heart—perhaps a remnant of the original host’s longing for a father’s love.

When she refused the money, An Deming didn’t give up. He decided to buy both An Siyuan and Sang Jing a house each. “A woman needs her own assets,” he told them. “Look at your aunt; without an allowance, she’s trapped. I don’t want that for my daughters.”

Sang Jing eventually relented, accepting the gift on behalf of the “original girl” who had craved this validation. That night, she dreamed of a girl who looked exactly like her. The girl smiled at her and vanished. Sang Jing woke up feeling at peace.

…

The Three-Hour Miracle

Late November arrived, and the highly anticipated Jing-Selection Home Appliance Festival finally launched.

Unlike previous events, Sang Jing chose a Saturday morning at 8:00 AM rather than the usual prime-time evening slot. Her fans grumbled on Weibo:

“8:00 AM? On a Saturday? Do you have no heart, President Sang?”

“I have to set an alarm for 7:00 AM just to give you my money? Fine!”

Industry skeptics were convinced this was a mistake. They argued that appliances weren’t like fruit; people don’t buy fridges on a whim at breakfast.

At a high-end equestrian club in City B, three executives—the heads of foreign brands SA and MD, and Qian Bo, the heir to the Qian Group—sat sipping coffee after a morning ride.

“I wonder how much the Chen and Lin families will lose today,” Qian Bo sneered. “They actually ramped up production for this ‘festival.’ Do they really think poor people on a cheap app will buy high-end fridges?”

“Foolish,” the MD manager agreed. “Maybe they’ll move a few hundred units if they’re lucky.”

Just then, Presidents Chen and Lin arrived at the lounge. The three executives stood up, wearing plastic smiles. “President Lin, aren’t you busy with your ‘online festival’ today? How do you have time for horses?” the MD manager asked mockingly.

“If I had to do everything myself, why would I hire managers?” Lin replied coolly.

Qian Bo chimed in, “It’s 11:00 AM now. Three hours in. How are the numbers? We were too ‘cautious’ to join, so we’re waiting to see your results before we decide our next move.” He waited to see them look embarrassed.

Suddenly, two stable hands rushed over, holding phones. “President Chen! President Lin! Your offices are calling. The orders for the Home Appliance Festival have far exceeded expectations. In just three hours, you’ve both surpassed 10,000 orders! They need you back at the office to manage the logistics!”

The lounge went dead silent.

Chen and Lin exchanged a glance. Lin took his phone, grumbling, “Can’t they handle anything without me?” before the two of them hurried away.

The remaining three men stood frozen. 10,000 units? In three hours? That was a revenue of tens, if not hundreds, of millions.

They checked their phones. News reports had just hit: “Jing-Selection Appliance Festival Shatters Records: Domestic Giants See Unprecedented Volume.”

As the realization sank in, the three executives didn’t just feel embarrassed—they felt terror. How were they going to explain to their boards why they had missed out on the biggest sales event of the decade?