Tian Sangsang beca famous overnight, and for the past few days, she finally got a taste of what it feels like to be a celebrity.
The people in the Military District looked at Tian Sangsang with admiration in their eyes—of course, mostly the n. The soldiers under Jiang Jinghuai would always say to people, "See this? That’s our sister-in-law, so fierce! She’s the one who sang ’Hero Song!’" "Sister-in-law is such a tough lady!" "And the song is even original!" They were brimming with pride.
After Mid-Autumn Festival, it was ng Shuyan’s birthday.
ng Shuyan had known it was his birthday today. From the mont he woke up, he felt uneasy and awkward, sitting quietly on the sofa holding Little Milk Tea. His small white legs dangled like a doll’s.
But beneath that calm appearance was a soul that was anything but calm. The little one knew he would celebrate his birthday with Mom and Dad, and his heart was about to explode.
"Yanyan, it’s your birthday today. Tell what you’d like to eat, and Mom will make it for you!" Tian Sangsang picked up ng Shuyan from the sofa and placed him into his wheelchair before taking out a small wooden comb to tidy his curls. Even after combing, his hair stayed curly.
Honestly, Tian Sangsang thought her son’s hair resembled Montesquieu’s—yes, the philosopher. To this day, she still didn’t know who he inherited it from. She had long straight black hair, while Jiang Jinghuai had short straight black hair. Neither of them had curls. As for their childhoods, she had no idea.
He could eat anything; the only thing that mattered was dining together with Mom and Dad.
Upon hearing this, ng Shuyan lowered his little head, his face turning as red as an apple. He was such a charming little boy—sharp brows, deep black almond-shaped eyes, naturally curly short hair, and skin as fair as snow. Tian Sangsang especially loved seeing boys in sportswear, so she dressed him in a custom-made outfit she’d previously crafted at Tian Family Village. It was her pride and joy—a bright red T-shirt with the number 6 written on the back, paired with black shorts. The ensemble radiated youthful energy and vitality. The contrast of these fiery colors made her son’s white skin even more striking—soft and adorably pink.
Thinking about this made Tian Sangsang a little excited. She discreetly took out her phone.
"Co on, son, look over here. Let’s adjust Little Milk Tea on your lap. Yes, like that! Say cheese. Chee~ese~!"
ng Shuyan and Little Milk Tea both gazed curiously at the sleek, tiny phone in her hands. The cara caught their naive expressions perfectly—adorably stunned.
So photogenic. Tian Sangsang saved the picture and sat back down on the sofa.
ng Shuyan leaned over and noticed his face on the screen—it was clearer than any mirror.
The little guy was so shocked he opened his tiny mouth wide. "Mom, is that ?"
"Yes, it’s your picture."
The little guy remained frozen for a long ti and then watched as Mom turned the white ceramic rectangle toward herself, puckering her lips and fiddling with it in different angles.
Tian Sangsang was taking selfies using a trending app called "Chic Selfie." She had to admit that, although she hadn’t yet slimd down to under 100 pounds, her skin wasn’t fully pale, and her figure still rounded, she did look youthful. Her cheeks still had baby fat—she already qualified as a beauty.
After saving the image, she opened the editing settings, enhanced her skin tone to make it whiter, and saved it again. Her features didn’t need adjustnt—her eyes were perfectly fine, and there were no freckles to remove. Everything was proportioned just right. Gazing at her face, Tian Sangsang sighed. In truth, she admired the aura of sophisticated beauties, but others only noticed her exquisitely delicate features. Who would look past the surface to see her divine essence? Alas! No wonder Jiang Jinghuai had suddenly transford into a beast in the study last ti—he must’ve been captivated by her newfound charm.
Her son was so photogenic; it wouldn’t do to leave these pictures hidden in her phone. Tian Sangsang casually registered a Weibo account. For the userna—hmm—"MrsJiang1980."
Personal bio: A flower-loving, fitness-enthusiast, literature-savvy, musically-gifted, dance-proficient, husband-supporting, child-raising, versatile woman who can dominate life as effortlessly as she captivates rooms—Mrs. Jiang, born Tian.
Next, she posted a Weibo update: Seven simple words—"I have a son. I am proud"—paired with the photo of ng Shuyan and Little Milk Tea.
Her account was newly registered, so there were zero followers and no mutual connections. Tian Sangsang followed a few of her favorite authors, celebrities, and public accounts. Then she browsed through trending topics on Weibo, stopping at one discussing this year’s release of the film *The Handmaiden.*
To be frank, the movie wasn’t very well-executed. Tian Sangsang’s male idol played a minor role in it—far from the captivating parts he usually took in more engaging narratives, with richer, well-rounded characters. The movie centered on a love story between two won, and her idol’s involvent didn’t add much.
Tian Sangsang suddenly recalled how, before her transmigration, she had been aning to watch a certain film but got too busy and thought she’d save it for a weekend break. As they say, ti can always be squeezed out, and it should never be wasted. After all, ti is money, and ti is life. That film was titled *mories of Matsuko.*
It was a critically acclaid masterpiece—a tiless film that remained impactful despite the passage of years, speaking to audiences in profoundly different ways. Without a doubt, *mories of Matsuko* was an enduring gem.
Tian Sangsang never cared for overly composed, aloof people, those who acted detached and indifferent. She preferred those with raw emotions—people who loved deeply, hated fervently, cried and laughed without restraint, and lived life vividly like Matsuko, the protagonist. Many people, in their youth and naivety, dared to plunge headfirst into passionate love like Matsuko, unafraid and unrepentant. But as they grew up or entered society, how many numbed those impulses, stopped being lively, and beca sowhat lifeless? Dreams crushed under the weight of reality, or beaten to the ground by life’s chaos, retreating and shutting down instead of courageously loving or hating as they once did. Just as the saying goes, "Always stay young, always stay tearfully passionate, always love humanity"—how many of us can live up to that? No matter how many tis life defeats us, no matter how many monts we think this life is the end, can we still muster courage to live vividly and love fiercely? Or do we end up like turtles, curling into our shells, numbing ourselves, and dragging out a lifeless existence?
Tian Sangsang shook her head. She realized she was overthinking again. She switched to another trending topic—this one about the scandals of a certain young heartthrob. In her younger years, Tian Sangsang had been a fan of this young actor. Looking at his picture now, she noticed he hadn’t changed—she had.
"Still pretty handso," she muttered.
"No, he’s not," ng Shuyan countered. "He’s not as handso as Dad."
"Fine, fine." Tian Sangsang giggled, putting her phone away. It was, after all, the birthday boy’s day. "Yes, yes, your dad is the most handso! Yanyan, let’s go shopping."
"Captain Jiang’s wife has arrived!" The Won’s Union leader at the base warmly called out when she spotted Tian Sangsang.
"Sangsang, your singing is incredible—*Hero Song!*"
"It reminds of the boldness of my youth!"
"If sothing’s wrong, just shout! Step up when it’s ti to act!"
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