Am I A Used Shoe

1,365 words · 7 min read

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Jyzciel

Hi! I'm currently reading this book so is the translation works. This will be updated often, so stay tuned.

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Xia Xiaolan was awakened by the sound of crying.

She remembered leading her team through an exceptionally difficult merger and acquisition deal. Afterward came the celebration banquet. Urged on again and again by her subordinates, she had drunk more than usual.

Her mind hadn’t completely clouded over yet. On the way home, she distinctly heard her new assistant talking on the phone with her boyfriend.

“I’m seeing President Xia back myself. She lives alone. "

“Mm-hmm, not married yet…”

“Honestly, what’s the point of a woman making that much money? In the end, she still couldn’t even get herself married.”

Half-drunk, half-awake, Xia Xiaolan didn’t confront the assistant on the spot.

No matter how successful a woman was in her career, without the embellishment of marriage, a “strong woman” was always fodder for gossip. Especially someone like Xia Xiaolan—forceful in style, plain in looks. People in the company whispered behind her back that she was ugly, old, and picky, that it would be a miracle if she ever got married.

Xia Xiaolan didn’t care when people talked about her private life. What annoyed her was that the new assistant had a loose mouth and an even looser brain. The girl actually thought Xia Xiaolan was too drunk to hear and dared to gossip about her boss right in front of her.

I’ll transfer her in a couple of days, Xia Xiaolan decided. Time for a new assistant.

When she got home, Aunt Zhang, the housekeeper she’d hired nagged her as usual, telling her to drink less and take better care of herself.

Xia Xiaolan collapsed onto the soft bed and fell asleep almost instantly.

She had a strange dream.

In the dream, she became someone else. The background was the 1980s. Some unpleasant things happened, and in a fit of anger, she smashed her head against a pillar.

Xia Xiaolan found it absurd. She wasn’t the type to commit suicide. Compared to everything she’d endured while clawing her way up from nothing over the years, that dream scenario wasn’t even worth mentioning.

But the dream was far too vivid.

A woman’s muffled sobs sounded beside her ear, so noisy her head felt like it was about to split open.

The blanket was damp and clinging uncomfortably to her body. It felt as if she were soaked in sweat. When Xia Xiaolan finally forced her eyes open, she was startled by a dark, sallow face looming in front of her.

“Xiaolan, you’re awake? You scared Mom half to death… wuwuwu… Does your head still hurt?”

That dark yellow face belonged to a woman so thin she looked like a gust of wind could knock her over.

Xia Xiaolan thought: Why hasn’t this dream ended yet?!

The woman’s tears streamed down her face. “Xiaolan, promise Mom you won’t do foolish things again, alright?”

Xia Xiaolan nodded vaguely. The woman wiped her tears with her sleeve and forced a faint smile onto her careworn face.

“I’ll go make you something to eat. Just wait.”

After the woman left and closed the door, Xia Xiaolan endured the pounding in her head and took in her surroundings.

A pitch-black wooden bed. Beneath the woven mat, straw rustled softly whenever she moved. A yellowed mosquito net was hooked to the bedposts. The faded quilt had four patches sewn onto it. By the bedside hung a thin cord attached to a crude lightbulb.

Xia Xiaolan tugged the cord. The light came on—probably not even fifteen watts. The room was still dim.

She climbed out of bed and staggered toward the only decent piece of furniture in the room: a dressing table by the window.

The mirror reflected a small face.

A sharp chin. Large, expressive eyes. A straight, delicate nose. Flawless—there wasn’t a single unattractive feature. White gauze wrapped around her head, stained faintly with blood, only made her look more fragile and pitiful.

Xia Xiaolan sucked in a sharp breath.

This was what people called a fox spirit face.

This was absolutely not her face.

If President Xia had been even three-tenths as good-looking as this, no one would have dared gossip about her behind her back.

She smiled—and the person in the mirror smiled too, eyes rippling like water, soft enough to melt hearts. She pulled an exaggerated grimace, baring her teeth, yet the reflection still couldn’t be called ugly.

That was just unfair.

Thinking of her original appearance, calling it “plain” had been generous. Without spending large sums on styling, she was, frankly speaking, somewhat ugly.

The world wasn’t entirely about looks. The higher you climbed, the more people valued real ability.

But she’d been born poor, with no connections to lean on. Her early struggles had been brutally hard. Back then, running sales alongside others, pretty female sales reps with zero expertise could land contracts just by batting their eyelashes. She stayed up night after night studying professional knowledge, yet couldn’t even get a meeting with a decision-maker.

If she’d been even a little prettier, maybe she wouldn’t have needed nearly twenty years of relentless struggle to finally taste success.

The house, the car, the savings, the position—everything she’d worked so hard for—she hadn’t enjoyed them for long. After one night’s sleep, she’d become another “Xia Xiaolan” with the same name.

This Xia Xiaolan lived in 1983. She had just turned eighteen. She possessed a devastatingly beautiful face—yet had chosen to smash her head against a pillar and kill herself.

The original Xia Xiaolan was dead.

For reasons unknown, Xia Xiaolan from thirty years later had awakened in this body. The memories she’d absorbed in her sleep were chaotic, yet they made her feel every emotion as if they were her own.

Creak. The door opened.

The thin, dark-skinned woman returned, holding a chipped enamel mug.

“Xiaolan, Mom steamed you an egg. Eat it while it’s hot.”

Her movements were cautious, even humble.

She was Liu Fen—Xia Xiaolan’s mother.

Xia Xiaolan opened her mouth, but the word Mom wouldn’t come out.

She didn’t know how to face Liu Fen. In her memories, the original Xia Xiaolan had treated her mother terribly. Should she continue being an unfilial daughter? Or claim she’d injured her head and take the chance to turn over a new leaf?

Before she could decide, the half-closed door was shoved open violently.

Several people crowded into the room.

Leading them was Xia Xiaolan’s grandmother, followed by two other daughters-in-law and a group of grandchildren. Their momentum was fierce, clearly hostile.

Old Madam Xia, with her high cheekbones, seemed to have fire shooting from her eyes. She snatched the enamel mug from Liu Fen’s hands and shoved her to the ground.

“You gave birth to a little slut who sleeps around and disgraced the entire Xia family! And you dare steal eggs from the house to feed her? I curse her a little and she puts on an act, smashing her head like she’s trying to scare me? You think I was born yesterday?! If she wants to die, let her die! If hitting her head doesn’t work, she can jump into the river!”

The venom in her words was nothing like a grandmother’s affection, it sounded more like the hatred of an enemy.

Liu Fen crawled to Old Madam Xia’s feet, clutching tightly at her trouser leg.

“Mother… the child just woke up. Please, leave her a way to live…”

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