My boyfriend was a corporate executive’s secretary. Our greatest daily pleasure was dissecting the dramatic love-hate saga between the CEO and his “canary”—his latest trophy girlfriend. Gradually, my boyfriend’s way of referring to the “canary” changed. From “canary” to “Ms. Jane,” then simply “Lily.” The spiced sunflower seeds in my hand suddenly lost their flavor. The next day, I swiftly ordered a fluorescent green baseball cap and personally delivered it to the “Crown Prince.” “Bro, I specially picked this out for you. I’m really not implying anything.” 1. Reid was almost home. I wondered what juicy gossip I’d hear today. Just thinking about it made me happy. Reid handed me his briefcase, looking utterly drained. “Minnie,” he collapsed onto the sofa, “Mr. Thorne is getting engaged.” Whoa! The notorious playboy of the city, Aaron Thorne, who went through internet celebrities like water, was finally settling down? “To whom?!” My eyes lit up. “The ‘canary’? Or that old suitable match, Ms. Brooks?” He frowned, his tone sharp as if he’d just swallowed a firecracker. “How many times have I told you, she’s not a ‘canary.’ She has her own career, a name, a surname. She’s Lily Stevens—Lily!” I froze. Not because he yelled at me. But because—when did he change the way he addressed her? When we gossiped, we always used code names. For instance, Aaron Thorne was “Crown Prince,” and his girlfriend would be “canary,” “nightingale,” or “little fox.” This “Lily, Lily” of his—it sounded a bit intimate, didn’t it? Were they close? His words made me reflect. Gossip is inherently immoral, especially using derogatory nicknames. It was indeed inappropriate. I nodded vigorously. “You’re right. I deeply regret it and apologize to Ms. Lily Stevens.” I picked up a handful of sunflower seeds. “However, ‘Lily’ won’t do. Too easy to expose!” “It should be ‘Seven’!” He looked at me, confused. “Is there any connection?” “Lily Stevens has two names, like that boy band, like seven words in a phrase, so ‘Seven.’ Got it?” Reid rolled his eyes and said I was crazy. I chuckled. Weren’t we partners in crime precisely because we were both so chatty and loved to spin tales? “Quick, tell me, tell me,” I urged, gently shaking his arm. He abruptly pulled his hand away. “What’s there to tell? All you ever do is gossip. Why don’t you choke on it?” The air fell silent for two seconds. He never got angry with me, especially not about gossiping. Because we both agreed that gossiping was sacred. United against outsiders, never internal squabbles. He probably realized his tone was off, awkwardly adding, “I’m tired,” before heading into the bedroom. I didn’t follow. Reid was acting strangely, but I didn’t dwell on it. My inner gossip fiend was roaring. I quickly called my backup gossip partner, Reid’s subordinate and my classmate, Chloe. “Honey! Guess what? Mr. Thorne is getting engaged to Ms. Brooks!” It wasn’t Lily? “But Mr. Thorne showed his affection with 999 drones and declared his love with 9,999 Fenja roses! How could it not be her?” Mr. Thorne, also known as the “Heartbreaker of the City,” never had a girlfriend for more than three months. Yet, he had dated Lily for a full two years. Everyone thought Mr. Thorne had found true love. To my surprise, he was still going down the old path of an arranged marriage. Chloe lowered her voice, using the highest-level opening for gossip. “You absolutely, positively can’t tell anyone, I’m only telling you—” I immediately covered the phone, my heart racing. “—I heard Mr. Thorne found out Lily was cheating on him.” 2. “How is that possible!!” Chloe’s eardrums must have burst from my shout. “Right?! I didn’t believe it either!” Lily must have some serious nerve to cheat on the Crown Prince. “How did he find out she was cheating? It couldn’t just be a misunderstanding, could it?” Chloe sighed. “I don’t know, why don’t you ask your Reid? He’s the executive assistant, he’d know everything.” At that, I remembered Reid’s unusual behavior today. After hanging up, I put on my dinosaur pajamas, intending to cheer Reid up. He was showering. His phone, placed on the bedside table, chimed with notifications. I hadn’t intended to look. The trouble was, I had also set up facial recognition. And the feature was too sensitive. The screen lit up. Only one person was pinned at the top—not me. The name was “My Sweet Lily” with a heart emoji. “Lily, please don’t cry. It’s all my fault.” “I’ll keep an eye on Mr. Thorne for you. I’ll put in a good word for you.” “Lily, please don’t leave me… I truly love you.” A reply came instantly. “What about Minnie, though? Do you like her more or me?” Reid answered. “How can she compare to you? She’s just a broke freelancer who spends all her time digging into other people’s privacy for fun.” The other side sent a cute emoji. “You’re the best, Reid. Kisses.” Lily. Jane Lily. My mind went blank for a few seconds. Lily’s secret lover was my boyfriend? I instinctively reached for my phone, wanting to share this breaking news with Chloe. Then it hit me—I was the subject of the gossip! Before I could even process this twist, the bathroom door opened. Reid saw the still-glowing screen in my hand, and his face instantly drained of color. “You went through my phone?” I imagined myself throwing the phone, slapping him, exposing his secrets, breaking up on the spot—all in one swift motion. But in reality, I just meekly flipped the screen face down on the bed, forcing out a smile uglier than a cry. “I couldn’t find my phone… borrowed yours to make a call.” His expression softened slightly. He grunted, then lay down to scroll through short videos. I stared at the back of his head. The back of the head that, just days ago, had stayed up late with me, dissecting the Crown Prince’s love life, cursing Alex as inhuman while munching on sunflower seeds. The back of the head of the man I had dated for two years, believing I had finally found my soulmate in gossip. Turns out, he had long since moved to another gossip circle. I picked up my phone and dialed a number I had never initiated a call to before. It rang twice, then someone answered. “Bro,” I said, “I found a really nice hat. I’ll personally bring it to you, okay?” There was silence on the other end for two seconds. Then a lazy, playful voice replied, “What color hat?” I looked at the fluorescent green dinosaur pajamas on my bed and answered with genuine emotion: “Green. Very green. So green it glows.” 3. Reid and I met during a particularly juicy gossip event. That day, I was walking back to my dorm with a few bags of spiced sunflower seeds. Suddenly, a commotion of people appeared ahead. My radar instantly went off. That wasn’t just ordinary gawking—that was the centripetal force of a crowd, the restless gossip particles in the air, that was— That was juicy gossip! I pushed through the crowd with the speed of someone rushing for food during military training. Claiming the best vantage point in the front row. “What’s going on? I don’t get it,” someone next to me scratched their head. I glanced at the scene: a red-haired guy, face flushed, being dragged by the arm by a middle-aged woman, with a meek-looking man in glasses standing nearby, head bowed. Got it. An old, ripe scandal. I explained while munching on sunflower seeds. “The two men are roommates. This lady is the red-haired guy’s mother.” A guy beside me very naturally picked up the thread. “The mother and the glasses guy are having an affair. Their rendezvous point is the son’s bedroom.” My classmate went from wide-eyed to utterly stunned. Reid and I locked eyes. In each other’s gaze, we saw the appreciation for a fellow connoisseur. I extended my hand. “Hi, Minnie Qin, Pediatrics.” “Hi, Reid Harrison, Computer Science.” With that handshake, the medical world lost a future pediatric expert, and the internet lost a soon-to-be bald programmer. And the world of gossip, from then on, saw the rise of a formidable duo. We treated gossiping as a mandatory course. He’d write web scrapers, and I’d do the analysis. With absolute rational logical thinking. We’d dig into gossip to the very end. When a male celebrity was exposed for cheating, and the entire internet was still consuming secondhand gossip, we had already produced a complete timeline, relationship chart, and itinerary comparison. The post went up for three hours, and read count surpassed five million. The comment section was filled with: “Are you living under their bed?” “Suggest checking the IP. Reasonable suspicion it’s the person themselves.” “Such analytical skills, a shame they’re not with national security.” The account gained 300,000 followers overnight. And the account continued to update, now boasting over a million followers. Besides gossiping, we clicked on other things too. We watched shows together, complained together, cursed at clients together. Our tacit understanding was so strong, it was as if we were lovers in a past life. I thought this was how my life would be. Munching on sunflower seeds, dissecting gossip, and dating along the way. Only now did I realize. He wasn’t without a “canary” of his own. He was just raising someone else’s “canary.” 4. That night, I couldn’t sleep. I found myself hesitating when I thought about “breaking up.” My brain raced, compiling a detailed “Relationship Incident Review Report.” Was I too busy with work lately, no time to munch on sunflower seeds with him? Did I hurt his feelings when I used his precious limited-edition keyboard cover as a mat for my instant noodles last time? Did my constant requests for him to pick up takeout make his love grow cold, like those chilled braised chickens—chilling little by little? I sat on the sofa, clutching the tail of my dinosaur pajamas, seriously reflecting on myself. Then I slapped myself. Minnie Qin, are you insane? He cheated. He emotionally cheated. He pinned another woman, with a heart emoji in her contact name. What are you reflecting on here? Reflecting on whether you didn’t roll out the red carpet for this relationship? In the dead of night, my tired mind emptied. Some overlooked details, however, began to unfold one by one. He said, “Today I drove the canary home; found out she has a puppy, very cute.” He said, “Today I drove Ms. Jane home; she talked a lot about jewelry design, very interesting.” He said, “Today I drove Lily home; Mr. Thorne said hurtful things again, she cried, and I felt bad too.” What was I doing then? I was eating sunflower seeds. I kept nodding and munching, “Oh, oh, and then? What did Mr. Thorne do then?” Thinking about it now, where was the problem? The problem was Mr. Thorne. You damn well keep making your secretary drive your girlfriend home every day. Is this dating? This is group team-building. I looked at the freshly arrived package in my hand—two fluorescent green baseball caps, every stitch glowing with mocking green light. I had originally planned to give one to Mr. Thorne and keep one for myself. Now I’ve changed my mind. I’ll give both to him. 5. Aaron Thorne is my stepbrother. For certain reasons, not many people know this. We usually pretend not to know each other. But things are different now. My boyfriend cheated with his girlfriend. This mess, who else would I go to but him? He chose the restaurant. Three hundred eighty dollars per person, a bottle of sparkling water priced at $999. I held the bubbling liquid in my hand and whispered, “The evil capitalist.” As soon as the words left my lips, a wave of Dior Sauvage hit me. I looked up. Aaron sat opposite me, clad in a custom black overcoat, his hair meticulously gelled into place. He glanced at me, a standard, irritating smirk playing on his lips. “Long time no see.” He paused. “You look as disheveled as ever.” I looked down at myself—a pilling hoodie, faded jeans, a ten-dollar canvas bag. He was right. But I wouldn’t admit it. “How heartbreaking,” he added. There wasn’t an ounce of sympathy in his tone. Aaron had always been like a peacock since childhood. Constantly displaying his plumage. The difference was, others displayed theirs to attract a mate, he displayed his to provoke a beating. I couldn’t be bothered with pleasantries. “My boyfriend seems to have cheated on me.” He raised an eyebrow, and a spark of schadenfreude instantly ignited in his eyes. “Well, congratulations then.” “The other woman is Lily Stevens.” His smirk dropped faster than the stock market. I pulled something out and slowly slid it across the table. A fluorescent green baseball cap. The threads were still visible, boldly, shamelessly green. “Try it on,” I said. “I think it suits you.” Aaron slammed the hat on the floor with a “smack”. “Are you insane?” I crossed my arms. “If you hadn’t kept sending Reid to drive Lily home every day, would he have cheated?” “Don’t you, a CEO, have a driver? Do you have to use your secretary to chauffeur your girlfriend? Can’t you afford a designated driver or a taxi?” “Anyway, it’s all your fault.” I paused, adopting a negotiating stance: “What do you plan to do about it?” Aaron stared at me, as if looking at a case file that had escaped from a mental institution. He opened his mouth, his eyes half-rolled— “Mr. Thorne, don’t listen to her nonsense!” A woman’s voice cut in from the side. “Reid and I really have nothing going on!” I turned my head. Lily stood about ten feet away, her eyes slightly red, looking utterly pitiful. Reid stood beside her. He was carrying her bag. Hermès. Limited edition. My anniversary gift to him was a Logitech keyboard. He was carrying a Hermès for someone else. I suddenly felt that green hat— Was given to the wrong person. 6. Tears clung to Lily’s eyelashes, rolling down one by one. The tears fell with practiced precision, just enough to teeter on the verge of spilling, making her appear both wronged and strong. She looked at me, her voice as soft as bloomed silver ear mushrooms. “Minnie, have you misunderstood something about me? Can we please clear things up today?” “Reid and I are truly just friends. Please don’t ruin my relationship with Mr. Thorne, okay?” After speaking, she began to sob again. Her shoulders trembled. Like a pear blossom in the spring breeze. Next to the pear blossom stood Reid. Holding her Hermès bag, his face filled with concern. Before I could even speak. The table next to us erupted. “Oh my god, isn’t that Mr. Thorne’s girl? Who in the city doesn’t know Lily is the Crown Prince’s darling?” “Who’s this woman? She looks like that and dares to try and steal him?” “Exactly, exactly! Are mistresses so shameless these days? Publicly confronting the rightful partner?” “Look at her, she must be ten years older than Lily, right? How could Mr. Thorne possibly be interested in her?” I froze. Ten years older? Me? I pulled out my phone, opened the front camera, and scrutinized my reflection. This was a face worn out for the future of our nation’s children! The glorious mark of the pediatric emergency room at 3 AM! …Alright, I admit I was triggered. I glanced at Aaron out of the corner of my eye. He was stifling a laugh, enjoying the show. Then I looked at Reid. He was looking down at Lily, his brow furrowed, his eyes so soft they could melt. As if he longed to wipe away her tears himself. He didn’t even spare me a glance. 7. So this is what it feels like to be the subject of gossip. As a grandmistress in the art of gossip, I knew gossipmongers too well. These people are like weather vanes, turning wherever the wind blows. They don’t care about the truth; they only care if there’s new material today. Since you want gossip— Then I’ll serve you a hearty dish. I slowly shuffled over to Aaron. Then, I gently placed my hand on my stomach. “I’m sorry, older sister.” I lowered my head, my voice carrying three parts shyness, three parts guilt, and three parts reckless abandon— “Actually, I’m pregnant with Mr. Thorne’s child.” The surroundings fell silent. It was no different from the atmosphere of a morgue. The Australian wagyu steak I had just eaten in my stomach appropriately squirmed. I looked up, a look of surprise on my face: “Oh, the baby moved! He must have sensed his father is here, so happy!” Thump. Someone at the next table dropped their fork. Someone at the table next to that spilled their coffee. I heard someone gasp, someone else forgot to put away their phone, the camera still on. Lily’s face instantly went white. Not a pear blossom white, but a drywall white. “Impossible…” Her voice trembled. “You, weren’t you Reid’s girlfriend? How could you be pregnant with Mr. Thorne’s child?” Reid finally looked at me. He grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight it hurt. “Stop messing around, Minnie.” He lowered his voice, thinking I was going crazy. “I know you’re jealous. Let’s go home first, we can talk there.” I ignored him. I turned my head, gazing at Aaron with feigned affection. I even managed to squeeze out a tear from the corner of my eye. Aaron met my gaze. His expression was complicated. Like he’d swallowed a whole lemon, or accidentally eaten expired yogurt. Then, he slowly conjured an incredibly fake smile. “Yes,” he said. “It’s mine.” The entire room fell silent. 8. Mount Fuji erupted. “Holy cow, holy cow, holy cow, this isn’t the mistress, this is the main wife!!” “Wait, did I hear that right? The main wife is Reid’s girlfriend?! Mr. Thorne is really playing the field, stealing his subordinate’s partner?” “Drama of the year! I witnessed it firsthand! I’m going to submit this! I’m sending it to ‘Gossip King’! Let a million netizens feast their eyes!” My smile froze. It felt like I’d lifted a rock only to drop it on my own foot. Subtle, too subtle. Lily could no longer maintain her composure. That perpetually gentle face now resembled wet tissue paper. She stepped forward, almost kneeling. “Mr. Thorne… no… I, Reid and I truly have nothing going on…” Her voice trembled badly, and the tears on her eyelashes finally fell, smudging her face. Aaron didn’t look at her. He put his arm around my shoulder and walked through the crowd. Like an emperor on parade. Like a peacock displaying its feathers. Like he was acting in some CEO romance novel but had picked up the wrong script. Reid chased after us for two steps. “Minnie—” He called my name. I turned back. “When did you… and him…” He choked, as if afraid to continue. “Why would you do this to me?” I looked at him. Looking at the Hermès scarf still clutched in his hand. Looking at his familiar face, the one I had once munched on sunflower seeds with, laughing and cursing countless other faces. I wanted to say: Why? Because you were the dog first. But I didn’t speak. Aaron had already ushered me into the backseat. The car door closed, and the world fell silent. He got into the driver’s seat and looked at me through the rearview mirror. “It’s been twelve years since I’ve been back,” he said. His tone was unusually serious. I turned to look out the window. The road to the Thorne family’s old estate was lined with plane trees. When I was seven, my mother brought me here after she married into the family. I sat in the backseat, just like this, peering out the window. Aaron was fourteen then, standing at the door, like a peacock forced into service. Later, after my mother died, I never came back. Twelve years had passed in a blink. 9. The room was still the same. The curtains were the pale yellow my mother had chosen, and a thin layer of dust covered the bookshelf. Aaron came in with a duvet and didn’t let me help. I sat on the bay window, watching him bend over to tuck the four corners of the duvet into its cover. “How did you find out Lily was cheating?” He didn’t stop his movements. “Saw it with my own eyes.” “Well, congratulations then.” I was sincere. “It wasn’t Reid.” … I was silent for three seconds. Lily, a role model for our generation. Daring to cheat on the Crown Prince, and also two-timing— “How many others?” I asked. “Didn’t count.” He was expressionless. I couldn’t help but be curious. “Then why aren’t you sad at all? She was with you for two years, at least.” Aaron didn’t answer. He stuffed a pillow into its case and patted it hard twice. Slap, slap, slap. I felt my face sting a little. He finally looked up and met my gaze. “You, on the other hand, seem quite happy.” I lowered my eyes. In my hand, I fiddled with a strawberry, bright red and sickly sweet. I took a bite. The sweetest part of the fruit, yet as I chewed, I tasted saltiness. Four years. How could I not be sad? I just didn’t dare to stop and think. Afraid that if I did, I wouldn’t be able to stand. Past midnight. Thunder began to rumble outside the window. A deep, dull roar, like someone pushing a giant boulder across the sky. It had been a long time since I slept alone. Thunderstorm night. These three words were like a curse, instantly pulling me back to that dusk ten years ago. Roses. Blood. My mother collapsed in the flowerbed, her hand reaching towards the sky, her lips moving. I couldn’t hear what she was saying. I only remembered that patch of red—indistinguishable between petals and blood. She said, Minnie. She said, come be with Mama. Boom— Another clap of thunder. I curled into a ball, my back drenched in cold sweat. My pajamas clung to my skin, cold as if just pulled from water. Reid. That thought was like a drowning person grasping at driftwood. Every time it happened, he would hold me tight, embracing me firmly, repeating over and over. “Minnie, I’m here.” “Minnie, don’t be afraid.” He’d scour the entire internet for gossip, from celebrity scandals to a neighbor’s lost dog, telling me every single story until dawn. Until I stopped shaking. Until I could breathe again. Tonight, there was no one. And in the future, there would be no one either. My heart felt clutched by an invisible hand, squeezed tighter and tighter. I gasped, but no oxygen seemed to enter my lungs. Boom— The door crashed open with a bang.
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “581074”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel
Leave a Reply