“In My Previous Life, My Daughter-in-Law Made Me Sign a Financial Agreement the Day She Married In — and When I Died in a Fire Years Later, I Wished Only for One More Chance to Change Everything”

The Second Chance Agreement

The first thing I felt when I opened my eyes was the smell of jasmine tea.
Gentle sunlight fell across the wooden table, where two steaming cups sat — one for me, one for my new daughter-in-law.

It should have been an ordinary morning.
But I remembered everything.

The signature.
The silence.
The fire.

And now — somehow — I was back.

Chapter 1: The Contract

“Mother,” she said sweetly, placing a crisp document before me. “Let’s discuss finances openly. It’s better for harmony.”

Her name was Wei Xinyu — graceful, educated, calculating.

In my last life, I’d signed this same paper without hesitation. It divided every expense between generations — meals, utilities, medical care, even festival gifts.
AA system, she’d called it.

Back then, I’d smiled nervously and said, “Of course. It’s only fair.”

And that signature sealed the coldest years of my life.

Now, sitting in that same chair again, I looked at the same paper.

【So this is where it begins.】

I smiled faintly. “You’re right. It’s better to be clear. But perhaps we should add one clause.”

She blinked, caught off guard. “Clause?”

“Yes,” I said. “If one day either of us falls ill, the other won’t look away.”

Her lips twitched. “Of course, Mother. But… this is just about money.”

“Money,” I said quietly, “reveals more than words ever do.”

And this time — I didn’t sign. Not yet.

Chapter 2: The Memory of Ashes

That night, I couldn’t sleep.

Memories from before my death came in flashes — my husband’s pale face in the hospital bed, my trembling hands clutching a bill we couldn’t pay, my son’s cold eyes as he said, “Mom, we’ve already helped enough.”

And then — the fire.

I still felt the heat on my skin, the smoke in my lungs. The loneliness of dying with no one calling my name.

But now, I had time.
This time, I would not be powerless.

Chapter 3: The Kind Mother

In the days that followed, I played the same role as before — the gentle, accommodating mother-in-law.

But every kindness I gave came with awareness.

I noticed how my daughter-in-law’s eyes lingered on my jewelry, how she spoke sweetly to my son when he was watching and sharply when he wasn’t.

I noticed how she began managing the household bank account — something I had once surrendered willingly.

And when she suggested again that I “sign for convenience,” I said softly, “Let’s do it together — at the notary.”

She hesitated, smiling too brightly. “No need for such formality.”

Inside, I thought:
【Yes, that’s what you said last time.】

Chapter 4: The Son Who Forgot

My son, Wei Ming, was my pride once — hardworking, handsome, but weak when it came to love.

He used to say, “Mom, she’s my family now. Please try to understand her.”

And I did. I forgave. I tolerated.

Until the day my husband collapsed.

In my past life, I’d begged for five thousand yuan — just five — to pay the deposit for his surgery.

Wei Ming had looked away.
Xinyu had said coldly, “We’re starting our own family. We can’t afford endless responsibilities.”

That moment broke me.

So now, when I saw the same signs — the late-night arguments, the subtle isolation — I began preparing quietly.

Chapter 5: The Savings

This time, I hid my savings. Not in banks, not in cards.

I opened a small account under my maiden name and deposited every spare yuan from my pension.

When Xinyu asked casually, “Mother, where do you keep your retirement funds? I could help you manage them.”

I smiled. “Oh, child, I’ve already invested them — in something that brings real warmth.”

She looked curious. “What kind of investment?”

“Insurance,” I said simply.

She laughed lightly. “You mean life insurance?”

“Yes,” I said, meeting her eyes. “Exactly that.”

And for the first time, she didn’t know how to respond.

Chapter 6: The Illness

Winter came earlier that year.

My husband’s cough returned — the same illness that had once taken him away from me.

In the past, we’d hidden the symptoms too long, too afraid to burden the young couple.

Not this time.

I took him to the hospital myself, paid the deposit from my secret account, and called my son only after treatment began.

When they arrived, Xinyu’s expression was strained.

“You should’ve told us first,” she said, pretending concern. “We could’ve arranged something.”

I smiled. “Don’t worry, it’s all paid.”

My son frowned. “Paid? How?”

“From the savings you said I shouldn’t waste,” I said gently.

Silence.

Chapter 7: The Turn

That evening, I overheard them arguing in the hallway.

“She’s hiding money,” Xinyu hissed. “Your mother is manipulating you!”

“She’s just cautious,” my son muttered.

“Cautious? She doesn’t trust us!”

Her voice dropped, sharp and trembling. “Don’t forget — last time, your father’s illness drained everything.”

I smiled bitterly in the dark. Last time, indeed.

Chapter 8: The Fire

It happened again — the gas left on one stormy night.

But this time, I was awake.

I smelled it. I remembered the explosion, the heat, the screams — all from the life before.

I rushed to the kitchen and turned off the knob, heart pounding.

Then I heard soft footsteps behind me.

“Mother?” Xinyu’s voice floated in the dark. “What are you doing up?”

Her eyes flicked to the stove — and for a moment, I saw something in them.

Panic? Guilt? Recognition?

“Nothing,” I said. “Just checking that everything’s safe.”

She smiled, too calm. “You should rest. Gas accidents are dangerous, you know.”

I stared at her. “Yes,” I said slowly. “I know.”

Chapter 9: The Revelation

Days later, I asked the repairman to inspect the kitchen.

He frowned. “Madam, someone tampered with the gas valve. It’s loose on purpose.”

I froze.

So that was it.
In my last life, it hadn’t been an accident.

I felt no anger — only cold clarity.

That night, I placed the unsigned AA agreement into an envelope and wrote a note:

“If I die, look at the stove first.”

Then I sealed it and sent it to my lawyer.

Chapter 10: The Reversal

A month later, I invited them both to dinner.

“I’ve been thinking,” I said softly. “About fairness. About separation of money and emotion.”

Xinyu smiled, sensing victory. “So you’ll sign?”

I nodded. “Yes. But I made a few small changes.”

She scanned the document — and froze.

Because in my version, every clause was mirrored:

‘In times of illness, the younger generation must contribute proportionally.’
‘Inheritance rights require proven filial support.’
‘Any breach results in full forfeiture of shared assets.’

Her face went pale. “You… changed everything.”

I smiled sweetly. “It’s still AA. Just balanced.”

My son looked between us, uncertain.

“Son,” I said gently, “love is easy when there’s food on the table. Real character shows when the table’s empty.”

He said nothing.

But that night, I saw him tear the original contract — the one she’d drafted — into pieces.