Mr. Huo, Your Eighteen-Year-Old Self Stole Your Home

“In the fifth year of my marriage, my eighteen-year-old husband transmigrated here and said he was going to teach me how to fall in love.”

Xu Yi and Huo Linshen were the textbook example of a marriage between wealthy families: separate bedrooms, affectionate in public, strangers behind closed doors.

Until, on a rainy night marking their fifth wedding anniversary, a drenched young man with bright, spirited eyes rang the doorbell.

This was Huo Linshen at eighteen: bold and passionate, looking at her with undisguised admiration and affection.

Heartbroken by how cold his “future self” had become, he resolved to rewrite their ending himself.

So while thirty-year-old Huo Linshen handled an acquisition in his study, his eighteen-year-old self planted roses for Xu Yi in the garden.

One left a light on for her late at night; the other made her a bowl of congee in the morning.

Xu Yi’s defenses gradually crumbled under the utterly different advances of the two “Huo Linshens.”

Until one day, the young man held her face in the rain and confessed his love. At the end of the hallway, the thirty-year-old man watched in silence as ash fell from his cigarette.

He finally realized that the cruelest competition in the world was against someone from another timeline: himself.