"His head’s not quite right, sure, but he’s simple! A man who’s a bit naive is better than one fooling around all day with other women!"
"He’s the only son in his family. If you marry him, you’ll be the young mistress, with the entire family waiting on you!"
"It’s such a great match, you can’t find one better even if you try hard. Do you even know how many people envy your luck right now?"
Clara sat by the bed, her face blank as she listened to Alice Whitman rambling away.
That mouth of hers—she could sweet-talk a corpse into waking up—was now busy painting the town’s factory owner’s dim-witted son as the perfect catch.
No one needed to dig for gossip; everyone in the nearby villages knew about that man. At 18, he was still wetting the bed, and by 20, he was shoving sheep droppings off the ground into his mouth, thinking they were black beans.
If it’s such an amazing match, why isn’t your own daughter lining up to marry him? Clearly, she’d do anything for those five hundred bucks in bride price!
"Clara? You hear me? Your aunt’s talking to you!" Alice Whitman’s patience was running thin when Clara didn’t respond.
Clara stood up, stretched her stiff back, rubbed her wrists, and asked, "Done talking yet?"
Alice froze for a moment. "Yeah, I’m done.""That's more like it!"
Clara Whitman rolled up her sleeves, grabbed the broom lying by the bed, and stormed toward Alice Whitman.
Alice, utterly terrified, bolted for the door. But in her rush, she tripped on the threshold and went sprawling face-first into the yard.
Scrambling to her feet, Alice planted her hands on her hips and began yelling, "You think you can boss me around just because that old hag's still backing you up? She doesn't have long left! You'd better figure out where you stand! Let me tell you, Clara, you'd better behave yourself! Hitting me with a broom? Go on, try it again if you dare!"
A smirk crept across Clara's face. Her eyes narrowed with amusement. Oh, so that’s what she wanted? Well, who was she to disappoint?
Alice was still hollering when—whoosh—a broomstick head came hurtling through the air, smacking her square on the forehead. A bright-red bump, the size of an egg, swelled up immediately.
"Oww! That hurt like hell! What are you trying to do, start a rebellion? Nigel, get in here and deal with your niece!"
Without missing a beat, Clara slammed the door shut.
She poured a cup of hot water and carefully helped the frail Mrs. Sherry sit up on the bed, offering the drink to the elderly woman.
"Clara," the old lady whispered weakly. Mrs. Sherry seemed to be showing signs of a fleeting recovery. She clutched Clara Whitman's hand tightly, repeating again and again, "As soon as I take my last breath, you take that thing and head straight to Jing City, you hear? Go find them!"
"Your wretched Uncle Nigel and Aunt Alice—they’re capable of anything! If you delay, you might not get out of this house alive!"
Mrs. Sherry had been repeating these same words for the past two days so much that Clara could practically say them in her sleep by now. She gently patted the old woman's hand and said softly, "Grandma, I remember everything you’ve said."
But even after hearing Clara’s reassurance, Mrs. Sherry didn’t look any more at ease. Struggling for breath, she rasped out, "That thing holds the key to your future happiness. Hide it well, you hear me? Don’t let that Nigel and Alice snatch it away from you.”
Clara gave a small, obedient nod, though her thoughts told a different story. The truth was, it was already too late for that.
A week had passed since Clara crossed over into this world. With the memories of the body’s previous soul and what she’d observed during this time, she’d already pieced together everything about this family.
Mrs. Sherry had two sons once. Her elder son and daughter-in-law were swept away in a great flood over a decade ago, leaving behind a three-year-old Clara for the old woman to raise.
The same year Clara was born, the family arranged a child marriage for her and even formalized it in writing. The “thing” Mrs. Sherry kept mentioning was the contract for that very marriage. She wanted Clara to take the paper and head straight to Jing City’s military compound to find the Hayes family and make them uphold the agreement.What a pity that the original Clara was just too meek. The contract hadn’t even warmed up in her hands before her uncle and aunt barged in and snatched it from her.
In the scuffle, she took a nasty fall, hit the back of her head, and was out cold for two whole days.
When she woke up, something had changed completely.
The old Clara was gone.
And she, Clara Whitman from another world, had taken her place.
In just those two short days, Lila Whitman had run off with the marriage contract in hand, caught the train to Jing City, and went on to marry into the Hayes family in Clara's stead.
Meanwhile, Clara was left behind, sold off by Nigel and Alice Whitman for a "whopping" five hundred bucks to be the wife of the simple-minded son of the local garment factory boss.
Mrs. Sherry had taken her last bit of strength to explain all this. With a guttural sound in her throat, her eyes closed and never reopened.
Clara didn’t follow Mrs. Sherry’s advice to leave right after her passing. She could feel the deep bond that had existed between the old Clara and her grandmother. So, she stayed to handle everything for the funeral.
On the evening of the burial, Clara happened to overhear Nigel and Alice scheming about something in a hushed conversation behind closed doors. "Hey Nigel, have you noticed how Clara’s completely different since that fall a few days ago? She used to be as timid as a mouse, pliable as clay—now her words are sharp enough to cut! And she’s even bold enough to hit people!"
"This is a problem! I already took the money! What if she refuses to marry…"
"Refuse? What right does she have to refuse? I say we just tie her up, don’t feed her for a couple of days, and when they come to pick her up, toss her straight onto the cart. Why waste time arguing with her?"
"You’ve got a point. Let’s do it that way!"
Before the couple could exchange another word, the door slammed open with a loud bang.
Clara stood there, glaring, while Nigel and Alice nearly jumped out of their skins, teetering on the edge of falling off the bed.
"You little wretch! Trying to give us a heart attack?!" Alice snapped, holding her hand to her chest.
Clara swept her eyes over them, her expression suddenly shifting to something pitiful. Forcing out two tears, she whimpered, "Uncle Nigel, Aunt Alice, Grandma’s gone now. I have nobody else but the two of you. If you want me to marry, I’ll marry."
Nigel gawked at her, utterly confused. What kind of act was this?
Alice, on the other hand, beamed with satisfaction. "Ah, finally some sense! I knew you’d come around. You’ll have a good life over there, don’t you worry. And if anyone dares bully you, your uncle and I will be right here to back you up!"
Clara smiled sweetly. "Thanks, Aunt Alice!"
"Thank me for what? We’re family, aren’t we?" Clara nodded slightly, extending her hand. "Since it’s a wedding, by the village rules, Aunt Alice, you should give a dowry. I’m asking for fifty bucks—not much, right?"
"What?!"
Alice stared wide-eyed, clearly shocked at the demand. "Clara, are you out of your mind? Fifty bucks? No way!"
"Lila took the money and ration stamps Grandma left for me when she went to the city, and that was meant for my dowry. Now I'm just asking you for a bit of cash—it’s more than justified."
Nigel waved his hand impatiently. "No money, stop dreaming. You’re marrying into the factory boss’s family anyway. You won’t starve, will you?"
"Exactly!"
“My uncle and aunt sold me for five hundred bucks, yet they won’t even spare fifty! It's already humiliating enough to marry a fool, and now you treat me like this! What do you want me to do—end my life? Fine! I’ll grab a rope and hang myself tonight!”
Alice sneered coldly. "You think I’m falling for that? Nice try."
Clara chuckled. "Believe it or not, it doesn’t bother me. But if I die, how will you explain that to the other family?"
Her gaze drifted around the room, purposefully scanning until it landed on the beam over Alice’s bed. "That spot looks good—I’ll hang myself there! And after I’m gone, I’ll haunt you every single night!"
Alice felt a shiver creep into her chest. Clearly, this wasn’t the Clara she used to know—the old Clara would've been easy to brush off. But now?Clara might’ve hit her head too hard—who knows if she’d actually do something crazy like that?
Nigel seemed to mull over that possibility too.
The couple exchanged a look before Nigel let out a heavy sigh and said, “Fine, fifty bucks. Just stop making trouble.”
“Deal! You know me; I keep my word,” Clara said with a grin.
Five minutes later, she happily tucked the fifty-dollar bill into her pocket, walking out of the room with an air of triumph.
“Clara!” Alice Whitman came chasing after her, pointing toward the kitchen. “Your uncle and I have been working like slaves all day—we’re wiped! Go make us some dinner!”
Fifty dollars! She was fuming inside.
That money couldn’t just go to waste!
Clara turned around, flashed a sweet smile, and gave her pocket a little pat. "No problem. I'll make sure you both have the perfect meal!"
