Transmigrating to the 1980s, I Became an Officer's Widow

I woke up to find myself a beautiful young widow in the 1980s, whose husband had died a hero. My in-laws called me a jinx, and the whole compound waited to see me make a fool of myself.

Instead, I picked up my books, got into Peking University, and built a thriving career in translation and foreign trade.

Then one day, my military officer husband, supposedly “killed in the line of duty,” came back alive.

He had been living under an assumed name and watching me for a long time. At last, he pinned down my hand as I filled out an application to study abroad. “You’re not going. You have to take responsibility for me.”