Author: Momo Chan

My dad was the “tough love” disciplinarian; my mom was the “sacrificing” nurturer. They were obsessed with my upbringing, strictly adhering to their roles. If I made a mistake, Dad would pull out his belt. “Spare the rod, spoil the child.” “I’m doing this for you. You’ll thank me later!” When my grades slipped, Mom would weep. “I suffered so much just for you, and this score is how you repay me?” The day I was diagnosed with depression. Dad and Mom had a huge fight. Dad pointed at Mom’s nose, screaming that her softness ruined me. Mom screamed back that it was his harshness that failed me. Neither thought they were wrong. From that day on, they doubled down on their “methods.” On the day my SAT scores came out, I heard them agree for the first time. “We fed her, clothed her all these years! If not for her, my life wouldn’t be this hard! And look at her! She can’t compare to anyone else’s kid!” “We hoped she’d take care of us in old age, but we got stuck with this useless daughter. Always threatening to die… we should just let her die and be done with it!” I stopped in my tracks. That night, looking at the belt hanging from the ceiling, I smiled. 1 Suffocation hit me like a wall. The belt cut into my flesh, but the intense pain brought a sliver of relief. Growing up. Every time I encountered Dad’s belt, it was because I made a mistake. Shoes not placed correctly? Twenty lashes. Didn’t eat vegetables before meat? Fifty lashes. Even wearing colors that weren’t “bright enough” earned me a practiced whipping. And now. I was using this belt, worn rough by my own skin over the years, to end myself. Mom and Dad’s words echoed in my head. To raise me “right,” Dad rejected high-paying travel jobs to stay in this small town. Mom gave up her dream of being a musician to watch over me every day. I was a burden. If I died, they would never fight about me again. My chest felt like it was going to explode. But on my purple face, there was a trace of a smile. For years, I had tried to end my life many times. My wrists were covered in dense scars. Every time Dad saw them, he would rush me to the hospital on his back, sometimes forgetting his shoes. Mom would slap me in anger, then hug me tightly the next second. She would say: “Mom begs you! Please live!” “What depression!? Mom doesn’t understand, but Mom knows if you keep this up, you’ll drive me to death!” “Mom sacrificed so much for you, isn’t that worth living for?!” Every time I remembered Mom’s words and the warmth of Dad’s back. I would drop the knife. Yes. My life belonged to them. If they didn’t let me die, I couldn’t die. But today, they didn’t argue. For the first time, they agreed. They wanted to let me die. They consented. I kicked the chair away. Intense suffocation swallowed me instantly. My body turned cold, the chill seeping into my bones. I wanted to say sorry to Mom and Dad one last time. Trembling, I raised my phone and dialed. The call connected instantly. I heard Mom chatting with relatives. “Oh, you’re so lucky, your daughter has such good grades. Unlike my mud-wall useless kid, she can’t compare to her cousin at all!” “I sacrificed so much for her! Why is she so insensible?” A sourness rose in my heart. I squeezed a tiny sound from my throat. “Mom… Mom… so… rry.” But the voice was too small. Mom couldn’t hear. The busy tone beeped. My consciousness blurred. It’s better to die. Mom won’t have to sacrifice for me anymore. Dad won’t fight with Mom anymore. 2 When I opened my eyes again, I was floating in the living room. Mom was holding my cousin Chloe’s hand on the sofa. “Heard your score is enough for Ivy League? Wow, amazing.” Dad looked at Chloe with a smile too. “Chloe is great. Good grades, cheerful personality.” “Unlike my useless trash. Not only is she good for nothing, she only knows how to make me angry!” Mentioning me, Dad’s face darkened instantly. Chloe’s smile deepened. “Are Lily’s scores out? She works so hard, maybe she can get into a state college.” Aunt Karen, Chloe’s mom, cracked sunflower seeds and smiled. “Yeah, community college is fine too.” Mom’s smile vanished. “Don’t mention it!” “Yesterday she pretended to be sick to avoid copying the textbook. Her dad disciplined her a bit, and she hasn’t come out of her room all day!” “Always throwing tantrums! No need to check her score! With her attitude, she probably can’t even get into community college!” “Dad and I put so much effort into her! Why can’t she compare to you even a little bit!” I tried to explain to Mom. It wasn’t like that. I wasn’t pretending. I had a fever of 104 degrees. I just wanted ten minutes of rest. But Mom couldn’t hear me. She kept praising Chloe, lamenting constantly: If only Chloe were my daughter. At lunch, I still didn’t appear. Dad slammed his chopsticks on the table. “That damn girl! Is she done yet!” He was about to grab his belt and rush into my room, but Mom stopped him. She signaled with her eyes: Relatives are here. Dad held back, but his chest heaved violently. “Throwing a tantrum, huh? Fine. No food for her. Starve her for a few days!” He took a key, locked my door from the outside, and wrapped a belt around the handle a few times. “Since she won’t listen! Let her reflect in there!” Chloe put some food in Dad’s bowl. “Uncle David, don’t be mad. Lily is just young and insensible.” “It’s my fault too. I should have watched her more at school.” “Or she wouldn’t be hanging out with those sketchy boys.” Dad’s face went dark. “What did you say!?” Next second, Chloe covered her mouth. “Oops, I misspoke again!” Mom sounded annoyed and urgent. “Not your fault! Chloe, speak clearly. What did that damn girl do at school?” Chloe and Aunt Karen exchanged a look. Aunt Karen smiled. “Tell them. If you don’t, your Aunt Sarah will misunderstand Lily!” Chloe put down her chopsticks and cleared her throat. “After I say this, Aunt Sarah, please don’t be mad at Lily.” “It’s nothing really, just… people at school say they saw Lily going into alleys with lots of boys.” “They say when she came out… her clothes were disheveled.” “I suspect… her grades dropping might be related to this.” Bang! Dad flipped the table, nose crooked with rage. “Shameless!” He stormed to my door and kicked it. Boom! “I paid for your school to make you successful! Not to be a slut!” “Great! You’re shaming us at school too!” I shook my head frantically. No. Not like that. I didn’t. Freshman year was the first year of my depression. I was afraid of contact, hiding in corners every day. Until the first midterm. I got first place. Chloe was second. Rumors spread that I cheated. I wanted to explain. But Chloe pointed at me in front of the whole school. “This is my cousin, she has depression! Don’t talk nonsense! She might kill herself!” Whispers swallowed me. “Depression? Is she faking it?” “Good grades and depression?” That day, the teacher called parents. Dad arrived and immediately pulled out his belt. Snap! The belt whipped my face, drawing blood. “Not learning well at a young age! Cheating now? Is that how I taught you!” My heart turned sour, my whole body shaking. “I didn’t…” Before I finished, another whip landed. “Didn’t what! Would your cousin lie like you!” Since that day, the school bullies targeted me. They dragged me into alleys. Tore up my test papers, forced me to show them my self-harm scars. I told Mom. Mom said flies don’t bite seamless eggs. I attracted attention because I wasn’t modest. Later, rumors spread. Dad got tired of yelling. Mom supported him. “Alright, Chloe is here!” “Besides…” I looked at Mom hopefully. Was she willing to believe me? I really didn’t. I listened, didn’t wear tank tops, wore jackets even in summer. I wasn’t immodest. But Mom’s next words froze my blood. “She’s afraid of the dark, right? Cut the power to her room. Lock her up for a few days, she’ll learn.” Dad cut the power decisively. “This is for Chloe’s sake! Or I’d beat her to death today!” Chloe smiled and comforted Dad. “Uncle David, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have mentioned it!” Dad snorted. “Why blame you! It’s her problem! If you didn’t say it, others would! I’m educating her!” “I was planning to take her to the aquarium for getting good grades.” “Now it seems! She doesn’t deserve it! Let’s go, Uncle will take you!” Aunt Karen grinned ear to ear. “Quick, Chloe, thank your Uncle.” Chloe’s eyes lit up, thanking Dad sweetly. Until the door closed. I stood alone in the pitch-black room, just like when I was little. Painful memories flooded back. 3 At twelve, I got into the best middle school with top scores. Mom smiled ear to ear when she got the call. Even Dad patted my shoulder when he came home. “Okay. Good job this time.” “Didn’t waste the effort your mom and I put in.” Looking at them, I gathered courage for the first time. “Dad, Mom, can you celebrate my birthday with me?” Mom paused, spatula in hand. “Birthday? Sure, it’s coming up, right?” Dad frowned. “Only know how to play. Better to do another set of practice questions.” “Fine, I promise. We’ll find time in a few days.” My heart clenched. I whispered. “Today is my birthday…” Growing up, I never had a birthday. Classmates talked about their birthdays. Mom would cook special noodles, Dad would bring gifts. Blowing candles, making wishes. I only saw that in dreams. I looked up expectantly. Mom froze. “Today… oh, my memory. Forgot.” “No cake, Mom will make you longevity noodles, okay?” I said okay, flattered. I looked at Dad cautiously. Dad said nothing, went to his room, came out with a small box. He patted my head, handing it to me. “Gift from Dad.” When I saw the fountain pen inside, I couldn’t help feeling a secret joy. My classmates were right. Birthdays are so happy. That day, though there was no cake, I made a wish. I wished Mom and Dad could celebrate my birthday every year. But later, I never had that chance again. First mock exam, I ranked second in the school. The teacher smiled, inviting parents to share “educational experience.” But Dad arrived and pulled out his belt. Snap! The belt lashed me. The teacher gasped. “Lily’s dad! What are you doing!” Dad’s face was dark. “School just started! Dropped to second place!” “Are you worthy of what your mom and I did for you!” I wanted to explain, Dad didn’t listen. That day, I was dragged out of school. Home, Mom looked at me with disappointment. I didn’t want to disappoint them. I studied day and night. Up at 3 AM, still doing papers at 11 PM. Second mock exam results came out. Cold water poured over me. Fourth place. Not even top three. The teacher comforted me. “First is a genius. Second hired a professor. Third got lucky.” “Don’t be sad, Lily. I’ll talk to your family.” But Dad said these were excuses. I regressed because I didn’t work hard enough. That night I was locked in the storage room. Pitch black. I curled up in fear. Squeaking sounds around me, rats or snakes. Anxiety and panic overwhelmed me. I shook uncontrollably. I banged on the door, begging. “Dad, I was wrong. Let me out.” “I’ll work hard…” No one answered. Silence outside. Just like now. Pitch black. I hugged my semi-transparent body, eyes wet. “Sorry, Mom, Dad…” 4 The front door opened. Mom and Dad were back. Mom looked at my closed door and sighed. “Still throwing a tantrum.” Dad scowled: “You spoiled her! I say! Didn’t beat her hard enough!” Mom waved: “How did I spoil her! Fine! I won’t manage her, you do it!” “I’m going to the roof to get the sheets!” I was frantic. I looked too ugly. I didn’t want to scare Mom. But Mom went to the roof. She pulled down the sheet, muttering. “Don’t know what sin I committed to birth such a waste.” Next second, she saw me hanging there. Mom froze. The sheet fell into the dust. She stared at me, eyes bulging, face green. Terrifying. Mom didn’t come down for a long time. Dad came up. “Taking forever for a sheet?” “Lily is getting more disobedient. Going to college soon, still so immature!” Next second, he saw me. Dad’s pupils shrank violently, lips trembling, speech failing. “Lily!” Mom snapped out of it, rushing to me. She tried to lift me down, but she was too weak. “David! Come help!” Her voice rose to a scream. Dad’s shaking hands lifted me down carefully. He looked at the red groove on my neck, biting into the bone, bloody. The mark made by the belt he used to punish me yesterday. Mom held me, sobbing breathlessly. “Lily! Wake up! Mom begs you, look at Mom!” Dad took out his phone, shaking. “Doctor, ambulance… she’ll be fine… she must be fine.” His hands shook so much he failed to dial several times. The ambulance came fast. Medics checked me. Mom couldn’t stand, swaying. The doctor checked my eyes, used instruments, then shook his head. “Dead too long. Can’t save her.” Mom threw herself on me, wailing. “Lily! What will Mom do without you!” She hugged me tight, forehead to mine, trying to warm my cold body. Tears smashed onto my face. Dad fell to his knees, kowtowing to the doctor. “Please! Doctor! Save my daughter!” “She just got into college! She’s our only hope!” The doctor sighed, handing Dad a pill bottle from the floor. “We tried.” “And this is for depression. As parents, you should know her condition.” “Besides the fatal wound, she has dozens of scars on her wrists. Previous suicide attempts.” Dad collapsed on the ground. “I knew…” “But I thought she was better…” I never got better. Since Dad carried me to the hospital and Mom cared for me day and night, I hid my sickness. I didn’t want them to worry. So every time Dad punished me and Mom cried to me, I went to my room alone and cut my arm with a cold blade. I covered my mouth to stop the screams. When consciousness faded, I bandaged the wound and wiped the blood off the floor. Until everything looked calm again. Day after day. The SATs approached. I studied longer. Countless cuts on my arms. I told myself. After the exam, it ends. I won’t see their disappointed eyes anymore. But when the scores came… I sat frozen. The score dazed me. Why? I worked so hard. Dad put so much effort, Mom sacrificed so much. But I didn’t even break 1400. Forget Ivy League, even state college was luck. Sure enough, Mom and Dad’s smiles vanished. Dad whipped me with the belt, pointing at my nose. “Trash!” “Raised you all these years! Put in so much effort! And you!?” Another whip. Flesh split. Intense pain. Mom looked at me with disappointment, eyes red. The room was suffocating. Until a knock on the door. Mom wiped her tears. “Coming!” Aunt Karen and Chloe, carrying gifts. Aunt Karen beamed. “Scores are out! Lily must be high!” “Unlike our Chloe, barely passed the Ivy cutoff.” Mom’s face looked ugly. “Don’t mention it! Her score… unworthy of our sacrifice!” Glancing at me coldly. “Why are you staring! Go buy water for your cousin!” When I came back with water, about to open the door, I heard Mom’s voice. Should just let her die. That sentence echoed in my mind. Mom’s wailing brought me back. “Lily! Mom’s fault, Mom shouldn’t have said that…” “All Mom’s fault…” She slapped herself like a madwoman. I tried to stop her, but my fingers passed through her body. Dad hugged Mom, voice hoarse. “Lily is dead! Whatever you do, she won’t come back!”

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What’s it like having a face that just screams “mean girl”? I volunteer at a soup kitchen, and people spread rumors I’m trying to snag a rich kid. I help a lost child, and I’m accused of kidnapping. Even helping an old lady recycle bottles, I get doxed online for “littering.” My reputation precedes me, making me unemployable right out of college. So, I hung up a shingle and started my own business: specializing in shutting down holiday guilt trips. On opening day, Julian Carter, a university professor, knocked on my door: “My mom is too nice. All our relatives have borrowed her retirement savings. I need a ruthless wife to lay down the law.” “Harper Lee, six figures. Are you in?” I slapped the table, eyes gleaming: “I’m in! I guarantee they’ll cough up every last penny!” 1 I applied a perfect coat of ruby red lipstick in the rearview mirror, flicking the ends up. “Professor Carter, let’s be clear: I’m in this for the money, not morality.” “Once we step inside, I’m your fiancée. Except for your mother, I don’t give a damn about anyone’s feelings. If they get a heart attack, the medical bills are on you.” Julian adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, knuckles white on the steering wheel. “Ms. Lee, that’s exactly what I need.” His voice was exhausted. “My mom is soft-hearted. After my dad passed, the relatives never stopped coming. This year, my Aunt Betty and her family of five moved in a week before Christmas, treating my home like a free resort.” “I… I have no other choice.” “As long as you can get rid of them and protect my mom, I’ll hand you the sledgehammer if you want to tear the house down.” The car pulled into an upscale gated community. Even through the window, I could hear the raucous noise coming from the Carter family’s standalone villa. “Mary! These cherries aren’t sweet! Turn up the heat; if my grandson catches a cold, can you afford to pay for it?” The foyer was a disaster zone. The imported rug was covered in sunflower seed shells and muddy footprints. A heavyset woman sat cross-legged on the sofa, spitting shells onto the floor. Next to her, a chubby little boy was scribbling with markers on a landscape painting on the wall. It was Julian’s father’s relic, incredibly valuable. Julian’s mother, Mrs. Carter, wearing an apron and holding a mop, voice trembling: “Aunt Betty, you can’t draw on that painting…” “So what if he draws on a piece of paper!” Aunt Betty rolled her eyes, scattering shells onto the freshly mopped floor. “My Timmy likes it, you should be honored!” “Julian is so rich, why would he care about a broken painting? Mary, it’s this stinginess of yours that drove your husband to his grave!” Mrs. Carter’s eyes were red rimmed, her hands shaking as she gripped the mop. Julian’s face was ashen. I reached out and stopped him. I tossed my faux fur coat over my shoulder and clicked my four-inch heels over to the sofa, looking down at Aunt Betty. “Showing up empty-handed is one thing, but bringing your own trash? Julian, these are your relatives? They look like refugees, and they smell like sour milk.” Aunt Betty froze, sunflower seed shells falling onto her shirt. “Who are you? It’s none of your business, outsider!” I laughed coldly, linking my arm through Julian’s and pressing myself against him. “Who am I?” “I’m his fiancée. The mistress of this house.” Mrs. Carter looked at me in shock. Aunt Betty’s jowls quivered with rage. She sprang from the sofa, pointing a finger at my nose. “You little tramp! Who are you calling refugees!” Slap. I swatted her hand away, eyes icy. “Point that again, and I’ll snap it off.” “Want to stay here? Fine.” “Carpet cleaning fee: two thousand. The painting on the wall: eight hundred thousand.” “Cash or card?” Aunt Betty backed away in fear, looking at Julian. “Julian! Look at this shrew you brought home! She’s trying to kill your own aunt!” Julian pushed up his glasses and sighed. “Aunt Betty, Harper has a bad temper. She handles all the money in the house.” “I can’t do anything. If I don’t listen to her, she beats me too.” Aunt Betty clearly hadn’t expected Julian to be so spineless. Her usual tactics for manipulating the Carter mother and son weren’t working today. “Fine! Julian, you’re a real man now! Bringing home a tigress to oppress your elders!” Aunt Betty’s eyes darted around, and she flopped back onto the sofa, slapping her thighs and wailing dryly. “My poor brother! Look at the widow and orphan you left behind, now being ridden roughshod over by an outsider!” Little Chubby Timmy joined in the commotion, grabbing a marker and throwing it at Mrs. Carter. “Bad woman! Don’t bully my grandma! I want KFC!” The marker hit Mrs. Carter on the forehead, instantly raising a red welt. She clutched her head, instinctively apologizing: “Timmy, don’t be mad, Auntie will go buy it…” I grabbed Mrs. Carter. “Mom, you sit down.” I pressed her back onto the sofa, turned to stare at the brat, and smiled at him. Timmy was scared and burrowed into Aunt Betty’s arms. “Want KFC?” Timmy emboldened himself and yelled: “Yes! A family bucket! Two big burgers!” “Sure.” I pulled a thick red envelope from my bag. Aunt Betty stopped wailing, her eyes glued to it. “My niece-in-law is so sensible.” She immediately put on a smiling face and reached out to grab it. “Julian is a big professor, he earns a lot. A small red envelope wouldn’t be presentable.” I twisted my wrist, dodging her dirty hand. “What’s the rush, Aunt Betty? This is for the child.” I squatted down, waving the red envelope in front of Timmy. “Say something nice, and it’s yours.” Timmy stared at the thickness of the red envelope, drool practically dripping. He shouted at the top of his lungs: “Hello, sister-in-law! Sister-in-law is so pretty!” “Good boy.” I stuffed the red envelope into his hands. Timmy tore it open and dumped it out. Rustle rustle—— A pile of colorful waste paper fell to the floor. Expired KFC coupons, and a few supermarket flyers. The room went dead silent. “Waaah——!” Timmy reacted, his crying shaking the roof. He laid on the floor rolling and kicking. “Liar! Big liar! I want red money!” Aunt Betty’s face turned purple with rage. She jumped up, pointing a trembling finger at my nose. “What is the meaning of this? Playing us with waste paper? Do you think we’re beggars?” I stood up slowly, dusting off my hands. “Aunt Betty, that’s not right. The child wanted KFC, these coupons are the thought that counts.” “I heard you when I came in, saying Julian earns a lot.” I sneered, looking at Julian. “Professor Carter, didn’t you tell Aunt Betty?” “Your salary card is with me. You have to apply to me for fifty bucks for cigarettes.” My gaze swept over them. “Every penny in this house is mine.” “If I want to give waste paper, I give waste paper. If I want to give air, I give air.” “Not a single dime leaves this house without my nod!” Aunt Betty gasped for air, turning to yell at Mrs. Carter. “Mary! Are you just going to watch this shrew bully your own family?” “This red envelope must be given today! One dollar less, and this Christmas is canceled!” “And the three thousand I lost playing cards, you make it up to me!” Mrs. Carter flinched in fear, looking at Julian. Just as Julian was about to speak, I sat down on the expensive solid wood coffee table, crossing my legs. “Canceled? Good!” “I didn’t want to celebrate anyway. Let’s settle accounts.” “Carpet cleaning fee, the painting on the wall, and the hit on Mom’s forehead.” “Emotional damage and medical expenses, let’s round it up to a hundred thousand.” “No money?” My eyes went cold. I grabbed the crystal ashtray and smashed it on the floor. Crash! Glass exploded. Timmy’s crying choked in his throat. “No money, then leave this brat here to work off the debt. Our house happens to need a toilet scrubber.” The room was dead silent. The shards of the crystal ashtray glinted coldly, one piece landing right by Aunt Betty’s foot. She shivered in fright. “You… you wouldn’t dare! This is a society under rule of law!” Aunt Betty yelled, her voice strong but her insides weak, her throat trembling. “Rule of law?” I smiled, pulling out my phone and opening the calculator. “Aunt Betty knows the law, so let’s go by the law.” “Trespassing, damaging property, disturbing the peace, intentional injury.” I didn’t look back. “Julian, call the police. I happen to know Chief King in this district, they’ll be here fast.” Hearing “police,” Aunt Betty’s face turned pale. “Don’t, don’t, don’t! Why call the police on family!” She immediately put on a smile, changing faces faster than flipping a page. “Julian’s wife, Aunt Betty was just joking with you.” “This child is ignorant, I’ll beat him later.” As she spoke, she gave Timmy two light pats on the butt. Timmy was about to wail but was glared back by her. Aunt Betty forcibly changed the subject: “Um… Mary, is dinner ready? I’m hungry.” Just as Mrs. Carter was about to get up, I pressed down on her shoulder. “Hungry?” I glanced at the coffee table piled high with fruit shells. “Ate so many cherries, and you’re still hungry?” “Since you’re hungry, eat something filling.” I ordered Julian: “Go cook a few packs of instant noodles. Don’t use the flavor packets, they’re expensive.” Aunt Betty’s face turned green: “Instant noodles for Christmas dinner?” I shrugged: “Don’t want to eat? Then starve.” Dinner. Aunt Betty’s family of five sat around the table, slurping plain noodles in clear broth. Their eyes looked ready to swallow me whole. Julian, Mrs. Carter, and I sat at a small side table, eating luxurious takeout. Abalone risotto, braised pork belly, boiled shrimp. The aroma filled the entire room. Timmy drooled with greed, reaching out to grab a shrimp. Smack! I hit the back of his hand hard with my chopsticks. “Ah!” “No manners,” I said coldly. Aunt Betty slammed her chopsticks onto the table. “Not eating!” Her eyes darted around, landing on Mrs. Carter, finding a way to turn the tables. “Mary, after dinner, the old rule, play a couple of hands of cards?” “It’s Christmas, let’s liven things up.” Hearing “play cards,” Mrs. Carter’s face instantly turned pale. She whispered an excuse: “Aunt Betty, I… I’m not feeling well, let’s not play.” “Oh, not feeling well?” Aunt Betty picked her teeth, speaking sarcastically. “You were pretty energetic when eating abalone! Afraid of losing money?” “Julian earns so much, and you care about this little bit of money?” “Play with your elders. If you don’t play, it’s unfilial!” Julian was about to stand up in anger, but I kicked him under the table. I wiped my mouth and stood up slowly. “Mom’s not feeling well, she really can’t stay up late.” I paused. “Aunt Betty is right. It’s no fun without playing a couple of hands during Christmas.” I walked over to the card table, pulled out a chair, and sat down grandly. “I’ll play for Mom.” “How big do you want to play?” Aunt Betty exchanged a greedy look with two other relatives. “Sure, niece-in-law has elegance. Let’s play.” “Our family is poor, can’t play too big. Three-card brag, ten-dollar ante, no limit.” Julian leaned in, whispering: “Harper, they cheat…” I gave him a look. “Don’t worry.” “When it comes to being crazy, I’m a professional.” The game began. Mrs. Carter stood nervously behind me, hands clasped together. Aunt Betty shuffled the cards, looking at me like a fat sheep. “Niece-in-law, show the money first? Save you from denying the debt if you lose.” I pulled a black card from my bag and slapped it on the table. “Fifty thousand.” “If you have the skill, take it all.” I lit a cigarette, smoke curling. I stared at Aunt Betty’s greedy face, blowing a smoke ring. “If you lose and can’t pay.” “I have a bad temper. I’ll chop off hands.” At the card table, Aunt Betty’s triangular eyes gleamed, exchanging glances with Second Cousin. I laughed, playing idly with a shard of crystal glass, seemingly indifferent. “Aunt Betty, this money is hot. Careful you have the life to take it but not the life to spend it.” For the first few hands, I deliberately let them win. A few thousand dollars quickly went into Aunt Betty’s pocket. The flab on her face jiggled with laughter: “Oh my, niece-in-law, your card skills are no good! Young people just can’t keep their cool.” Mrs. Carter was sweating with anxiety behind me. Julian stopped her, pushed up his glasses, his gaze fixed on the card table. “Again.” I slapped the black card on the table. “Ante doubled, one thousand.” Aunt Betty went crazy with joy: “Call! Of course I call!” This hand, she got three Kings. Her breathing turned heavy, eyeballs red, certain I had nothing. She brought this deck of cards; they were marked. “Niece-in-law, don’t call this hand. Save yourself from losing your family fortune,” she advised hypocritically, hands pressing down tight on her chips. I blew out a smoke ring: “I’m just stubborn.” “I’m all in.” I pushed all the cash in front of me, along with that fifty-thousand-dollar card, into the center of the table. “Eighty thousand here.” I stared at her. “Aunt Betty, dare to call?” Aunt Betty was stunned. The money in her hands added up to only a few thousand. She looked at the three Kings in her hand, a winning hand. Greed swallowed reason. “Call! I call!” She slammed the table, face turning liver-colored. “I don’t have that much cash…” “No money?” My eyes swept over her. “No money is easy.” I pulled out prepared A4 paper and an inkpad from my bag. “Aunt Betty’s old house in the city, the ancestral home grandpa left, market value eighty or ninety thousand.” I slapped the paper in front of her: “Sign, press your fingerprint, the house as collateral. Win, eighty thousand is yours. Lose, the house belongs to Mom.” Aunt Betty hesitated for a second. That was her lifeblood. She looked down at her cards, three Kings. Unless I had three Aces, she couldn’t lose. Second Cousin had just discarded two Aces! This hand was a sure win!

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My boss laid me off right before the holidays and refused to give me my year-end bonus. I fought him in court for half a month and finally got my money. That night, I slept soundly, clutching my phone with the beautiful bank balance on the screen. But when I woke up the next morning, I was dumbfounded. My money! My money was all gone! Overnight, the numbers evaporated. $88,888 turned into $8.88. I grabbed a knife and went straight to my boss. “Speak! Did you steal my bonus?” “It must be you, you old bastard! You conspired with accounting to claw the money back!” “My money! Give me back my money!” I nearly chopped the office to pieces before the police arrived. They checked the company’s records and found an unaccounted-for transaction. My boss hemmed and hawked, refusing to explain the source. Instead, he slapped me: “Bitch, take the money and get out!” “Don’t come scamming me again. If you call the cops one more time, I won’t give you a cent, you beggar!” I couldn’t take it anymore. Screw him! Even a saint has limits, let alone someone suppressed for eight years. In a fit of rage, I grabbed my boss and jumped off the building with him. Falling through the air, I suddenly regretted it. I need to be alive to spend the money! I was so confused! When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day my boss handed me the compensation check. 1 “Take the money and get out!” “It’s just a layoff, not your life!” Mr. Curly’s voice rang in my ears. Accompanied by a splitting headache, I realized I had been reborn. He spat towards my face while dragging me and shouting loudly. “Everyone, come look! The big hero who sued the company is back!” Instantly, my colleagues’ gazes were drawn to Mr. Curly. He pushed me in front of everyone: “This is our great hero, Bella Swan.” “Everyone, take a good look at her face. Spread the word about her later.” “After all, she’s the shameless one who ruined everyone’s year-end bonus for her own selfish gain. If you have complaints, don’t come to me, go to Bella!” Worthy of being a boss. In a few words, Mr. Curly incited everyone’s emotions. People were already pointing fingers at me. Some stopped working to glare at me. “Is she sick in the head?” “Does she think she’s cool, playing the ‘Gen Z rectifying the workplace’ card?” “She wishes she were Gen Z. She’s pushing thirty and unwanted. Even men avoid her. Disgusting trying to act young at her age!” “Exactly, a scheming old woman. The company culture is ruined by people like her. Toxic!” Vicious curses came at me, more intense than in my past life. But I didn’t care. I just wanted my money. In my past life, I had a fierce temper right after the lawsuit. Before Mr. Curly could slander me, I pulled out evidence of him docking employees’ pay for years. The employees exploded, surrounding Mr. Curly for an explanation. Forced into a corner, Mr. Curly had to pay out some money to calm everyone down, including my compensation. I deposited it that night, checking the balance repeatedly before sleeping. The next morning, I tried to buy some things for my house, but the payment failed due to insufficient funds. I thought it was a system error, but it kept failing. Opening the banking app to contact support, I froze at the number. “$8.88” Overnight, my balance went from $88,888 to $8.88. And I hadn’t touched it. A friend in accounting told me Mr. Curly was beaming today. “He looks like he’s on drugs, face glowing, smiling at everyone.” Remembering his malicious look when I left, I snapped. I took a knife to the company. Later, Mr. Curly and I fell to our deaths. During the fall, Mr. Curly screamed that I was crazy. He yelled in despair: “Bella, are you sick?! I told you that money has nothing to do with you! Why frame me!!!” “I gave you the compensation, what more do you want? What kind of grudge makes you pull me down with you…” His complaints stopped abruptly as we both crashed and died. Opening my eyes again, I pondered. Mr. Curly’s scream didn’t seem fake. He was about to die; he had no reason to lie. So who took my money? And why was he beaming? I shook my head, vision blurry. “Hey! Bella! I’m talking to you! Are you stupid?” Mr. Curly’s voice pulled me back from my memories. Under everyone’s gaze, three large sacks were placed in front of me. To disgust me, Mr. Curly deliberately changed the money into small bills and coins. Just counting it would take all day. In my past life, unwilling to be humiliated, I flipped the table and demanded a direct transfer. But in this life, I thought cash was great. Fantastic! This much money is heavy. Hard to move without strength. I’d sleep hugging these three sacks tonight. Surely my money wouldn’t disappear this time? I sat down happily, ignoring the disgusted looks, and started counting bill by bill. All day, I did nothing but squat in the lobby counting money. It got dark. The company was closing. Under the urging of Mr. Curly and Finance, I finally counted the last stack. I rubbed my waist and stood up, swaying. “Hiss… correct. $88,888. Not a penny more, not a penny less.” Mr. Curly lost his temper completely. He had never seen someone as thick-skinned as me, fussing over money to the point of losing face. I thought he should go eat sh*t. Yes, I fuss over this money because it’s mine. He, the boss, docks employees’ bonuses. Workers look forward to this bonus all year. Docking it is like killing their parents. Of course I’d sue! I strapped one sack to my chest, one to my back, and carried one in my hand. Three bulging bags. Under Mr. Curly’s disdainful gaze, I rode my e-scooter home. Home, I counted again. Still the same. I thought about today. Didn’t offend Mr. Curly too much, didn’t expose his dirty laundry. He wouldn’t risk crime to harm me. Didn’t deposit the money. It’s in bed with me. I’d feel it if it went missing. No card to be swiped, no thief sneaking in. I closed my eyes, hugging the sacks tight. This time, my money is finally mine. But when I opened my eyes the next morning, I was dumbfounded. My money! Where is my money! Where did it go!!!? The three sacks were empty. Not a dime left!!!! And my account balance was $8.88 again. Just like my past life! I fainted. What is happening? I protected my money so well, how is it gone again? How did it disappear? I couldn’t figure it out. Trembling, I called the police. The police were baffled too. “You’re saying you suspect your boss broke in and stole your money?” I nodded firmly: “Yes. My money is gone, and he’s my prime suspect.” “Besides my dispute with Mr. Curly, I haven’t offended anyone. I can’t suspect anyone else.” To convince them, I showed the judgment. “Look, officers. This is my labor dispute with Mr. Curly.” “I worked for him for eight years. He laid me off at year-end without a bonus.” “He even led the rumors against me, insulting me in front of employees, just so I wouldn’t get the money.” For insurance, I recorded everything since my rebirth yesterday. Mr. Curly’s ugly face was captured frame by frame. Now it was useful. I played it for the police, pointing at his face: “Look, when I left, he mouthed: ‘Stupid bitch, even if you take the money, you won’t keep it. It’ll be gone before it’s warm!’” “Doesn’t this show he had designs on my money? Without outside interference, how could my money vanish into thin air?” I was frantic. The more I thought, the angrier I got. I wanted to roll up my sleeves and fight Mr. Curly. But in my past life, I suffered from emotional outbursts, arguing with him instead of clarifying things with the police. Resulting in my death without getting my money back. Not good. Life first, money second. Having both is best. I took a deep breath and spoke clearly: “Yesterday, after the judgment, I asked for the money. He cursed and gave it reluctantly.” “He splashed dirty water on me in front of the whole company, blaming me for their lack of bonuses.” “Combining his final curse with his usual behavior, I reasonably suspect Mr. Curly stole the money back because he didn’t want to give it to me.” I exhaled long. God knows how hard it is to suppress emotions and narrate objectively. For this money, I’m exhausted. The officer nodded. “Yes, reasonable suspicion.” “Combined with everything, Mr. Curly has a motive…” I was about to rejoice. “Then arrest him, make him return my money…” The officer continued: “But this only proves motive. It doesn’t make him a suspect.” “Unless there is more critical, substantial evidence…” I deflated instantly. Substantial evidence? What more do you need?! The video is right there! He cursed me saying the money would be gone! Doesn’t that prove he planned it? How else do I prove he stole it?! I was dying of anxiety. I can wait, but the money can’t. What if he transfers it? Then it’s really gone! Just as I was about to cry, I remembered something. A scene flashed in my mind. I screamed in joy: “I remember! I remember! I have evidence, officer!” “This time, we can definitely catch Mr. Curly!” The officer looked over. “Ms. Bella, what evidence?” I danced with excitement, pulling the officer towards the bathroom. “You can drug test me!” “Yesterday, I drank a lot of water at the company while counting money. When I got home, I was sleepy and fell asleep quickly.” “I suspect Mr. Curly drugged my water with sleeping pills, which is why I was so out of it and didn’t notice the money being stolen!” “And this apartment was company-assigned before I rented it myself. Mr. Curly, as the boss, has a spare key!” “Officer, substantial evidence! Please help me get my money back!” I started unbuttoning my pants. I wasn’t acting. Anyone seeing this would sigh that another worker has been driven mad. The officer closed his eyes: “Ma’am, please calm down!” “I’m just a police officer. Drug tests are done by forensics. Don’t take off your pants, I can’t do this!” “Oh,” I pulled my pants up resentfully. “Then call forensics quickly. I can’t hold it much longer.” Half an hour later, the results came. “Well?” The forensic doctor nodded solemnly. “Yes, Ms. Bella is right. Her body contains a large amount of sleeping pill components. This counts as substantial evidence.” “Great! Arrest him!” Soon, Mr. Curly was brought in. Seeing me, his face turned green. “Holy mother of… Bella, you again? Are you done yet!?” “I gave you the bonus, what else do you want?” “Just because you’re unemployed doesn’t mean I am!” Speaking as if he wasn’t the one who fired me. I got even angrier. New hate and old grudges combined, I scratched Mr. Curly’s face. It took effort for the police to separate us. “Cough! Order! Order! Ms. Bella! Watch your emotions!” “Before the case is filed, Mr. Curly is just cooperating. No excessive beating!” Oh?

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My uncle had no children, and he had long since written a will leaving his billion-dollar estate to me. But after his funeral, when I returned to his villa, a stranger barged in, claiming to be my uncle’s legal heir, and tried to kick me out. “All of Mr. Arthur Vance’s assets are inherited by me. Please leave immediately!” I didn’t believe him at all, thinking he was crazy, but he produced a will. Looking at two identical wills, I immediately called my lawyer. After a careful comparison, the lawyer looked at me and shook his head regretfully: “Ethan, your will is invalid.” My mind exploded. Before I could react, Leo Sterling was already sitting on the sofa. He effortlessly found the cigars my uncle hid under the sofa and lit one with practiced ease. I stared at the unfamiliar yet familiar silhouette behind the smoke, asking in disbelief: “Who the hell are you?” 1 Since my uncle was diagnosed with lung cancer, the doctor strictly forbade him from smoking, and all the cigarettes in the house were confiscated. Only my uncle and I knew about this hiding spot. How did this guy know? The man opposite me showed no expression, pointing to the name on the will. “Can’t you read? My name is Leo Sterling, the legal heir to Mr. Arthur Vance’s estate. Now, can you leave?” “Impossible!” My voice cracked. “Your will must be forged! I demand a lawyer to verify its authenticity!” Attorney Lee checked it again carefully and nodded solemnly. “This will is genuine and valid. Mr. Leo Sterling is indeed the legal heir.” The expression on my face froze instantly, shaking my head in disbelief. “How can it be true? I am my uncle’s closest relative. How could he leave his inheritance to an outsider like you?” Leo looked at me with a playful smile. “Then you have to ask your uncle why he gave his billion-dollar fortune to an outsider like me instead of a nephew who was like a son to him.” I stiffened, clutching the will tightly. Cold sweat dripped onto the paper, blurring the name Ethan Hunt. My uncle never married. He treated me, his orphaned nephew, like his own son. I grew up by his side. He sent me to the most expensive private schools and gave me the most privileged life. Before I even graduated college, he brought me into the company to learn the ropes, teaching me everything about management. Despite my older uncle’s strong opposition, he left all his assets to me, his nephew, without giving a cent to his own brother’s son. As a result, my uncle and his brother became enemies. My uncle loved me so much; he would never give his inheritance to a stranger I had never met. There must be something wrong here. I calmed down and looked at the lawyer. “I demand the video of the will signing.” For a will to be notarized, at least two notaries, a lawyer, an accountant, and a doctor must be present. This ensures the testator is of sound mind, acting voluntarily, and that the content reflects their true intent. My uncle must have been coerced. I stared at Leo, trying to find a trace of panic on his face. But he looked calm as he pulled out the video. I stared at the screen without blinking. From beginning to end, my uncle was perfectly lucid. He even pressed down so hard when signing his name that he tore the paper. My head buzzed. How is this possible? Something’s fishy. Definitely fishy! I grabbed Attorney Lee by the collar, glaring at him. “You tampered with the video, didn’t you? Your last name is Lee, his last name is Sterling (Li in Chinese context implies connection, adapted here to distinct names but implying collusion). Are you conspiring with him to embezzle my uncle’s estate?” Attorney Lee’s face changed, but he spoke politely. “Mr. Hunt, I understand your feelings, but this was Mr. Vance’s own decision. If you have doubts, I suggest you call the police or go through legal channels. Violence won’t solve anything.” I let go of him and immediately called the police. After the officers arrived, they examined the video and confirmed it was the original file, with no cuts or AI manipulation. And after investigation, Attorney Lee and Leo Sterling were not related. They had never even met before today. I was completely dumbfounded. Where did it go wrong? The will was made just a month before my uncle died. Why did he suddenly change his mind? The officer looked at my unwilling face and said in a tone half-educational, half-mocking: “Young man, look for the reason within yourself. Maybe you weren’t filial. Not just your uncle, even if it were your own father, if he’s not satisfied with you, it’s his right to give his inheritance to whomever he wants.” A crack opened in my brain. Own father? I looked at Leo abruptly, a terrifying thought growing wildly in my mind. I was forcibly evicted from the villa where I had lived for over twenty years. Before leaving, I swiped the cigar stub Leo had smoked while no one was looking. Once outside, I rushed to the hospital, taking my uncle’s stored blood sample to the DNA testing center. The wait for the results was excruciating. My uncle lived a clean life. Despite his immense wealth, he never indulged in debauchery. Aside from necessary social engagements, he lived like a monk. I racked my brains, but I couldn’t imagine he would have an illegitimate child. But if not, how to explain him changing his will to Leo? After a long wait, the results finally came out. The moment I saw them, I froze. “Biological parent-child relationship excluded.” These words were like sharp bayonets, piercing my heart. My uncle really gave his life’s work, his billion-dollar fortune, to a stranger with no blood relation? I couldn’t figure it out. I really couldn’t. Does he have something on my uncle? But the police said Leo was just an ordinary employee in a third-rate company. What leverage could he have over my uncle? Unless… they had that kind of relationship? Considering my uncle’s lack of interest in women, it didn’t seem impossible. I was almost struck dead by this thought. My mind was a mess. Was I just going to watch the billion-dollar fortune slip away? Let my uncle’s life’s work be embezzled for no reason? After dazing for a long time, I called a private investigator I knew. “Investigate a man named Leo Sterling. Go back three generations, from birth to now. Everyone he’s met, bank records, everything. The more detailed, the better. And fast.” Hanging up, I found a five-star hotel to check in. The “Card Frozen” notification sound was particularly piercing in the empty lobby. I remembered then that all my cards were supplementary to my uncle’s account. Now that the assets were given to Leo, he must have frozen my cards immediately. I could only return to the dilapidated apartment my grandmother left to my mother. There were only a few hundred-dollar bills left in my wallet. Forget next semester’s tuition; I couldn’t even guarantee food for now. Sitting in the spotlessly clean apartment, bitterness welled up in my heart. My uncle and mom were twins. When I was two, a car accident took my parents’ lives. They were very close. My uncle never wanted to sell this apartment and often came to clean it himself. He said mom’s shadow was here. He stayed single to take care of me, raising me like both a father and a mother. He treated me so well. Why would he give the inheritance to someone else? Unwilling to give up, I watched the will video over and over again. Something felt missing. My hand paused, pupils shrinking violently. I knew it. My Great-Uncle was missing from the video as a witness. Great-Uncle was the most respected elder in my maternal family. My uncle had explicitly stated that the will would only be valid with Great-Uncle present as a witness. I quickly found the video of my uncle’s first will, the one for me. Great-Uncle was clearly there. I jumped up in excitement, eager to expose Leo’s true face. I returned to the villa quickly. After banging on the door, I tried to rush in but was stopped by the butler, Alfred. “Young Master, this is no longer your home. If you make trouble again, I’ll call the police.” Seeing Alfred, who used to care for me so much, being so cold, my heart soured. I explained, “I need to see Leo Sterling. Let me in.” “Our Master has gone to bed. Come back tomorrow.” I checked the time. It was only past eight. The night life for young people hadn’t even started, and he was asleep? Just like my uncle’s elderly schedule. I waited outside all night. The next morning around seven, Leo left the villa in my uncle’s Maybach. I stopped him. “Leo Sterling, I can prove you are not the legal heir. Come with me to see my Great-Uncle right now!” Leo looked at me with a half-smile and agreed readily. “Fine. I also want to see what proof you have.” At Great-Uncle’s house, I asked urgently: “Great-Uncle, did you know my uncle gave his inheritance to this man? He wasn’t in the video. Tell me, it’s forged, he forced my uncle, right?” Great-Uncle looked at me in surprise. “I know. Your uncle told me. I was scheduled to be a witness that day, but I got into a car accident on the way out and broke my leg. But I recorded a video testimony before surgery. Didn’t they show you?” I noticed the bandage on Great-Uncle’s leg. He showed me the video. It was short but clearly stated the authenticity of the changed will. I was dumbfounded. My eyes darted between Great-Uncle and Leo. Did Leo buy him off? I blurted out without thinking: “Great-Uncle, did he bribe you? How much did he give you? How can you do this to my uncle? To my dead parents?” Great-Uncle’s face darkened, his tone no longer kind. “Ethan, what nonsense are you talking about? It was my first time meeting Mr. Sterling! I’m old, what do I need that much money for? This was your uncle’s own wish!” “No! My uncle wouldn’t abandon me!” I turned around, grabbed Leo by the collar, and glared at him. “Who are you really? Why did my uncle willingly give you his inheritance? Tell me, what did you use to threaten a dying man?” The calmness on Leo’s face finally cracked. “Enough!” He pried my hands off forcefully. “If it weren’t for you being Arthur’s nephew, I would have called the police for harassment long ago. If you keep this up, I won’t be polite!” Great-Uncle also advised me: “Ethan, I know it’s hard to accept. Your uncle must have his reasons. You’re young, your future might not be worse than his. Why bother?” “Why bother?” I looked at him incredulously. “That’s not a hundred thousand or a million. That’s a billion-dollar empire, my uncle’s life’s work. Didn’t you suspect why he changed his mind right before he died? What leverage does Leo have on you all?” Great-Uncle’s face turned completely dark. “Suspect what? Ethan, your uncle is gone. I hope you respect the deceased’s wishes!” Leo sneered. “You’re doing all this just to imply your uncle had a shady relationship with me, right? Ethan Hunt, he was your uncle. How can you slander him like that?” My face flushed red, embarrassed at being seen through. The servants and family doctor looked at me with contempt. “He talks big, but he’s just unwilling to lose the money. Slandering his own uncle as a pervert for money, shameless!” “I say, Mr. Vance must have seen he was an ungrateful wolf long ago, that’s why he didn’t leave him the money. Doesn’t he know it himself?” “Mr. Vance raised him for twenty years like a father, and he slanders him after death. Not worth it for Mr. Vance.” “Pah! Greedy, ungrateful villain. Get out, don’t dirty our floor!” A servant swept furiously at my feet, forcing me to the door. Endless grievances and humiliation surged up. I looked around with red eyes and choked out: “It’s not for the inheritance! I just want to know why he did this? Was he in trouble? Was I not good enough? Was the father-son bond of twenty years fake?” “Even if the truth is that it was his own will, I’ll accept it willingly. I don’t want to live in confusion and helplessness!” Tears fell unbidden. Great-Uncle limped over, looked at me, and sighed helplessly. “Ethan, don’t think nonsense. If your uncle didn’t love you, why would he save a huge trust fund for you?” I froze, suddenly remembering what my uncle told me on his deathbed. “Ethan, I bought a large trust fund for you. Don’t touch it unless absolutely necessary. Only the heir knows the password…” I was too sad to care about the meaning then. I just thought he left me a way out in case I failed at business. Now thinking back, my uncle was prepared. I shot a sharp look at Leo, my tone desperate. “Leo Sterling, one last time. Come with me to the bank. Prove to me if you really are the heir!” He stared at me with a complex expression for a long time, then scoffed: “Fine, I’ll go. But if it’s proven that I am the legal heir, you, Ethan Hunt, are never to appear in front of me again!” I nodded without hesitation. “Deal!”

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My dad doesn’t like me. He called me a liar, said I was just like my mother—always faking illness and playing the victim for sympathy. He only ever loved his childhood sweetheart. Growing up, I was bullied by classmates, abused by the hired help. Dad turned a blind eye. Five years after my mother’s death, I finally saw the first person visit her grave. It was Dad. He broke precedent and came home on the anniversary of her death. He handed me a legal document: A Severance of Parental Rights. “I’ve supported you until eighteen. I’ve done my duty.” I didn’t cry or scream. I calmly signed my name, ready to start a new life. Later, on my birthday, he found me holding a strawberry cake, begging softly, “Lily, please come home with Dad, okay?” I shook my head. “No.” 1 I was a bastard with no father and no mother. Mom died five years ago. My impression of Dad was blurry and strange. When I was four or five, I tugged at his coat, wanting a hug. He didn’t hug me. Later, when Mom died, I cried and screamed. He told the nanny to cover my mouth. When I grew older, Dad stopped caring about me entirely, leaving me to the nannies and servants. I missed him, so I snuck into his office building to find him, then followed him to a small, elegant townhouse. A mother and daughter lived there. The nanny who took care of me said: They were Dad’s true love and real family. And I was nothing. Growing up, whenever a parent was needed, he never showed up. In the eyes of outsiders, I was no different from an orphan. I never expected him to come with me to visit Mom’s grave today. 2 I grew up hearing that Mom was just a country girl working in a hotel. Vulgar, uneducated. She got pregnant by accident and became Mrs. Vance. But after the marriage, she was depressed because of her husband’s neglect. After giving birth to me, she suffered from postpartum depression and died a few years later. Dad only showed a little emotion towards her on their wedding day and the day she died. Other times, this woman was no different from a stranger to him. His heart belonged entirely to his true love, Elena. I’d seen Aunt Elena many times. She was gentle, intellectual, beautiful, and elegant. In her youth, she was the only daughter of a high-ranking official, but her family fell from grace due to corruption. Dad couldn’t marry her then. So he could only keep her in his heart, protecting and cherishing her. Aunt Elena was the moon, the beautiful moonlight in the sky that couldn’t be touched. Mom and I were weeds in the dirt, left to weather the wind and rain, our lives irrelevant to him. So even when he knew Mom was sick, and later noticed I was bullied by the servants, he never extended a helping hand. Because I was the product of an accident, I shouldn’t even share his blood. My existence was a permanent symbol of his betrayal of Elena. 3 When Dad took out the severance agreement, we had just finished dinner at home. Pizza and pasta. These were the favorites of Aunt Elena’s daughter, Chloe. Dad subconsciously assumed all girls my age liked pizza. I actually didn’t, but to make him happy, I ate two-thirds of it, wiped the grease from my mouth, and said it was delicious. With the severance agreement in front of me, I felt like a rat stealing oil in the gutter, instantly beaten back to my true form. “Lily Vance, you’re eighteen now. My supporting you until today is the fulfillment of my duty.” Yes. Dad wasn’t wrong. He had money. Endless money. He hired servants to take care of me, pick me up from school, prepare three meals a day, and gave them allowances to give me daily. This was his way of caring for a daughter he didn’t love. He prepared a room full of dolls for Chloe. No matter how busy he was during holidays, he would be by her side. Before she was fourteen, they traveled the world. Photos of their trips were in his wallet, in his car. That was his way of truly loving. “I know you might blame me, but you can understand Dad, right?” He sighed. I looked up and realized this handsome, dashing man had a few gray hairs at his temples. His voice was full of bitterness. “I ask myself, in these eighteen years, I haven’t mistreated you in terms of food, clothing, or shelter.” “But your Aunt Elena has followed me for half a lifetime without any status. I don’t want her to be lonely and helpless anymore. I should take responsibility and give her a home, a title.” 4 The pen glided smoothly; the paper was crisp. In less than a minute, I signed both copies and handed them to Dad. His face was wooden, perhaps from too much happiness. “Check if there are any issues.” He glanced down, then at me, his gaze strange and peculiar. “Aren’t you going to make any demands?” “In front of you, I’ve never had the right to make demands.” The Vance family inheritance, the house, the money. I couldn’t ask for any of it. If I showed even a hint of greed, Dad’s other daughter, Chloe, would be unhappy. Even though she shared no blood with Dad, the love and care she received were forever beyond my reach. Knowing my place was also saving myself some dignity. “True.” Dad sighed in relief. “Your grandfather left you quite a bit of money when he passed. That should be enough for you to live comfortably for the rest of your life.” I didn’t argue. Calmly, I said, “I’ll live in the school dorms from now on. There isn’t much of mine here, so I won’t be coming back.” I dug into my pocket, placed the key on the table. “I’ll tell the housekeeper to delete my fingerprint from the lock.” Perhaps my calmness exceeded his expectations, and his attitude softened. “You can continue to live here. I won’t be coming back anyway.” I stood up and put on my backpack, refusing his final act of charity. “Uncle, I have to go back to school.” The word “Uncle” came out smoothly. When I was little, in front of outsiders, he forbade me from calling him Dad. He introduced me as a friend’s child. Signing this agreement or not didn’t make much difference. “I’ll drive you.” He seemed to feel a pang of guilt again. “It’s far from here to the school.” “No need.” I smiled and declined. “The subway is convenient. I’m used to it.” 5 Actually, the subway took two hours. It wasn’t convenient at all. But Chloe had moved into an apartment near the school long ago, with Aunt Elena accompanying her. During my three years of high school, I saw them near the school more than once. I secretly followed them into the complex. Security was tight; I snuck in behind a resident. That day, I sat downstairs for a long time. Watching the figures moving in the window upstairs, imagining myself as one of them, eating with them, watching TV and eating fruit after dinner. Dad would remember my tastes, affectionately call me Lily, remind me to dress warmly for the rain tomorrow, remember to bring an umbrella, care about my grades, hire tutors for me. But the lights suddenly went out. The curtains were drawn. The whole world seemed to leave me alone again. I desperately wanted Dad’s love, almost masochistically. As a child, I pulled at him, begging him not to leave. Growing up, I imitated TV shows, hurting myself or getting sick, acting like a delinquent to get his attention. Later, I tried to please Grandpa, please the nanny, hoping they would put in a good word for me. But no matter what I did, Dad’s attitude never changed. Only when cutting ties did he feel that sliver of guilt. But just a sliver. The next day, I saw his car at the school gate, picking up Chloe. He looked high-spirited, wearing a beautiful tie, not looking like a man in his forties at all. His face beamed with a relieved smile I hadn’t seen in years. When he saw me… It froze for a second. 6 I wanted to turn and walk away. After all, my presence would affect his happiness. Walking out of the crowd of students, I buried my head, not wanting to see the reunions around me. But Chloe didn’t want to miss this chance to show off. She rushed over, grabbed me, and asked, “Isn’t your family coming to pick you up?” I knew she wanted to see me sad. I nodded calmly, granting her wish: “I have no family. Not a single one.” Mom died. Dad didn’t want me. She gasped “Ah,” as if it were incredible, then loudly called my biological father “Dad” right in front of me. “Dad, let Lily eat with us today. She’s so pitiful alone.” “What’s pitiful?” Dad glanced at me coldly. “She has money, she won’t starve. Let’s go, your mom is waiting.” I wasn’t surprised he said that. It wasn’t the first time. Grandpa said Dad was the first person besides the nurse to hold me when I was born, and the first word I said was “Dada.” They say blood is thicker than water, but for him, romantic love far outweighed paternal love. Maybe when I was an infant, Dad loved me. But as I grew up, becoming sensible and independent, his love and responsibility faded. I guess that’s where the severance agreement came from. “It’s okay, Dad. Lily is your daughter too.” “She is not.” Taking Chloe’s hand, he didn’t look at me once, completely denying my existence as his daughter. “Dad only has Chloe as a daughter from now on. Let’s go, we’ll be late.” Dragged away by Dad, Chloe looked back. She stuck out her tongue and winked at me—a provocative expression that said: “See? Even if you’re his biological daughter, so what? He can discard you for me.” Chloe knew best how to stab someone in the heart. From middle school to high school, we were in the same class. She couldn’t stand me. A big reason was we shared the same father. She was loved, grew up in a positive environment, outgoing and cheerful, but she was uniquely hostile to me. Over six years, every classmate who played with me eventually became her best friend. Chloe forbade anyone in class from talking to me, treated me as invisible, ignored my existence. Growing up, I learned this was called isolation. No physical harm, but the blow to the soul was fatal. But the current me wouldn’t be sad over such small things anymore. Surviving the last three months, leaving here forever, leaving this nominal father, was what I truly needed to do. I turned my back. Walking against the crowd. Behind me was Chloe’s coquettish voice: “Dad, what are you looking at?” “Nothing. Let’s go.” 7 After moving out of the villa, I lived in the dorm. The dorm wasn’t big, but it was clean. The single bed was narrow, but it was truly mine. Unlike the house I grew up in. It was big, tall, but standing inside, the bricks were cold, the air was still. Many nights I woke up from nightmares. Staring into the bottomless darkness, I even wished there was a ghost in the house to keep me company, to talk to me. But even ghosts have companions. I could only talk to myself in the mirror. Lights out at 10:30 PM sharp. The phone by my pillow suddenly lit up. My phone was an old model. Unlike Chloe, who changed hers every release. Low memory caused lag; it took some time to open the new message. It was from an unfamiliar number: “Lily, why aren’t you back at the villa?” That tone. I guessed it was Dad. Funny enough, growing up, I never had Dad’s contact info. I once secretly looked through Grandpa’s phone, memorized his number, and called with a trembling heart. I was eight, didn’t have a phone, so I ran to a payphone. It was raining outside the booth. Inside the receiver was Aunt Elena’s voice. She asked: “Who is this?” In the fuzzy background was Dad’s laughter. “Up you go, horsie ride for the little princess.” I hung up. Another time I called was because of the nanny’s bullying. I called crying, only to get Dad saying: “Lily, where did you get my number?” Later, he changed his number. Every time I was helpless, I called, pouring my grievances to a number that would never connect. But now, Dad texted first. I couldn’t muster any excitement. “Yes.” I replied. Dad seemed unhappy. “Even if we cut ties, you didn’t have to run away from home.” Where was I supposed to go? Don’t want me. Won’t let me leave. Was I supposed to be trapped in that cold cage without family or love forever? Where should I go to not be an eyesore to him? “Lily, stop being stubborn. This does you no good. If you think this will gain my sympathy, you’re too naive.” Rare. Dad educating me. When the nanny stripped me naked and whipped me with a hanger; when I wore my fingers raw scratching the door begging for a bite to eat. When I was almost raped by the nanny’s boyfriend, and she slapped me afterward, calling me a seductress slut like my mother. In those moments of agony and despair, how I wished he would come back and look at me. Even to scold me for being weak, for being cowardly. As long as he was by my side. But no. My pleas never received a response from him. Birthing but not raising, yet demanding I live as proudly and healthily as Chloe—Dad was a bit greedy. “Your sympathy is worthless to me, and my business is none of yours.” I took a deep breath, finally determined to mentally cut off this lukewarm kinship. “Your sympathy is worthless to me, and my affairs are none of your business.” After sending the message. I casually dragged the number into the blacklist. People who have cut ties don’t need to contact each other anymore. 8 Having made me suffer in front of Dad last time, Chloe was happy. Her targeted bullying permeated my life. Especially at school, it intensified. My seat was in the last row, alone. No one wanted to sit with me. Looking up, I could see Chloe’s back. She was always surrounded by a crowd. She raised her wrist, showing off the new bracelet her family bought her. “Pretty, right? My dad bought it specially from abroad.” “I know this brand, it’s super expensive.” “So envious. When will my dad be this generous?” “Chloe, your dad treats you so well.” After signing the severance agreement, I completely gave up hope on Dad. Whatever new clothes or jewelry he bought Chloe, I couldn’t muster any interest. But Chloe wouldn’t let me go. I didn’t know how her new bracelet ended up in my bag. When she cried and accused me of being a thief, I almost wanted to laugh. She was still so childish. Childish enough to use the same trick from childhood without getting bored. Because of Chloe’s tears, the homeroom teacher convicted me almost instinctively. “Lily Vance, theft is a serious offense. Since you did this, I have to call your parent.”

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On Christmas Eve, I was delivering food on my e-bike through a blizzard when my phone suddenly buzzed. “Sister.” Just one word, mixed with static, struck me like a thunderbolt. But I had signed a non-disclosure agreement and disappeared with that money ten years ago. I didn’t understand why my biological sister, who took the college spot I sold to her, was contacting me now. “I’m at the gate of the complex where you’re delivering.” “Mom and Dad are dying. They want to see you one last time.” The gate? I slammed on the brakes, the tires carving a black mark in the snow. A stretch Lincoln was parked at the complex entrance. The window rolled down halfway, revealing a face with exquisite makeup and well-maintained skin. Looking at that face—identical to mine in features but worlds apart in fate—my freezing red hands gripped the handlebars tightly. I didn’t understand. They sucked my blood dry to pave her way. What more could they want from me now? Breathing out a puff of white mist, I ignored her. I twisted the throttle and rode past the luxury car without a glance. 1 I didn’t even look back at the stretch Lincoln. Behind me came the sound of a car door opening and slamming shut. Chloe didn’t chase after me. Of course. Wearing a couture gown worth tens of thousands and three-inch lambskin heels, how could she step onto this muddy, snowy ground? Ten minutes later. I parked my bike downstairs at the dilapidated apartment complex scheduled for demolition. My hands were frozen stiff; I could barely unclench them from the handlebars. I struggled to untie the delivery box. My phone buzzed again. An unknown number. I knew who it was without answering. I hung up directly. Then came a barrage of text messages. “Ava, how long are you going to be stubborn?” “Dad has uremia, end-stage. He needs a kidney transplant immediately.” “If you have any conscience left, stop playing dead.” Seeing the word “uremia,” I just wanted to laugh. I really wanted to laugh. Ten years ago, they tricked me the same way. Said Grandma had a brain tumor, was dying, and urgently needed that so-called “selling price.” And the result? I stuffed the phone back into my pocket and rubbed the back of my hand, covered in chilblains. The cracks opened again, oozing blood. I climbed up to the sixth floor. Before I even entered, I heard coughing inside. I pushed the door open. A damp, moldy smell hit me. The rental, less than 300 square feet, was piled high with scavenged cardboard boxes. “Honey, you’re back?” Hearing the noise, Mark dragged his lame leg, limping over to greet me. He held a cup of steaming hot water. “Warm your hands, quick.” I looked at his faded work pants and the leg crippled by a workplace injury. A corner of the ice in my heart melted. “Mommy!” My daughter, Lily, crawled out from behind Mark with a paintbrush. She had a streak of ink on her face, smiling to reveal a row of tiny teeth. “Mommy look, I drew a big house. We’ll live there one day!” The squiggly lines on the paper depicted a villa with a garden. My nose stung. I squatted down, about to hug my daughter. The door was pounded heavily. Bang! Bang! Bang! The force was strong, urgent, carrying an arrogance that refused rejection. No neighbor in this broken building knocked like that. Mark’s face changed. He instinctively shielded me and the child behind him. “Who is it?” He went to open the door. As soon as the door cracked open, it was violently kicked wide by a foot in a black leather shoe. Mark, unsteady on his feet, staggered back and almost fell onto the coal stove. Two bodyguards in black suits walked in. Followed by… An expensive perfume scent. Chloe, in her high heels, covered her nose in disgust and walked into my “pigsty.” She scanned the moldy wallpaper. Her gaze finally landed on Mark and me. The condescending charity in her eyes stung. “Sis, you live in a place like this?” She kicked a cardboard box aside. “Come back with me. Save Dad’s life, and I’ll give you fifty thousand dollars.” Fifty thousand. To buy my kidney. Just like ten years ago, three hundred thousand bought my life. 2 The air in the room seemed to freeze. Lily, terrified, shrank into my arms, sobbing quietly. Though Mark was crippled, he stood before us like an angry lion. “Get out!” He grabbed the wrench he used for fixing appliances. A bodyguard stepped forward, reaching out to shove Mark. “Don’t touch him!” I screamed, grabbing the scissors on the table used for cutting delivery bags. I aimed the sharp tip at Chloe’s exquisite face. “Get your people out, or I don’t guarantee this face will ever go on stage to play piano again.” Chloe was startled. She instinctively covered her face and took two steps back. “Ava, are you crazy?” “I’m here to help you!” Her eyes widened, full of incredulity. “Look at this loser you married, and this little brat you gave birth to.” “Don’t you want a better life?” I sneered. “Help me?” “As who? As Chloe, the name I should have had, or as ‘Ava,’ the name that stole my life?” Hearing this, Chloe’s face paled. It was her only stain. The scar she feared most being uncovered. She gritted her teeth, pulled a check from her limited edition Hermès bag, and tossed it lightly onto the ground. The thin piece of paper landed on the cold concrete floor. “It wasn’t easy for Mom and Dad to raise you. Although the methods were harsh back then, you took the money yourself.” “You squandered three hundred thousand and ended up like this. Who’s to blame?” “Unlike me. I worked hard, I improved myself. I lived up to that admission spot.” She spoke with such righteousness. As if I really took the huge sum to party, while she was the diligent genius. I just found it absurd. Anger exploded in my chest, burning my insides. But I couldn’t get physical. For my daughter, I couldn’t go to jail. I took a deep breath. Bent down. Picked up the check. A smug smile curled Chloe’s lips. “That’s rig—” Riiiip— The sound of tearing paper. I tore the fifty-thousand-dollar check into shreds right in front of her. I threw them into the air. The confetti fell like snow on her coat worth tens of thousands. Then. I picked up the cup of overnight tea on the table. Bitter tea stems still floating in it. Splash— The brown tea water flowed down her meticulously styled curls, ruining her exquisite makeup, and dripping onto the white fur. Chloe’s scream almost lifted the roof. “Ah!! Ava! You dare splash me!” The bodyguards moved to strike. I pointed at the old camera in the corner. “There’s surveillance in this room, connected to the cloud.” “Touch me, and I’ll send the story of you buying an identity and stealing my college admission ten years ago to the media.” “We’ll go down together.” Chloe froze. She was a famous pianist. A public figure. She couldn’t afford to lose. “Fine. Very good.” Chloe wiped the tea from her face. Makeup smeared, she looked like a clown. “Ava, you will regret this.” She fled in embarrassment with her bodyguards. The hurried click-clack of high heels echoed in the hallway. Until the sound completely disappeared. Only then did I go limp, the scissors clattering to the floor. Mark walked over, asking nothing. He just silently pulled me into his arms. His embrace smelled of engine oil, but it made me feel incredibly safe. “It’s okay, Ava. It’s okay.” But. Was it really okay? 3 Three in the morning. Mark’s phone rang. It was the owner of the auto repair shop. “Mark, someone complained you swapped parts on a luxury car. The evidence is solid.” “Don’t come in tomorrow. Prepare the compensation money.” I listened to the busy tone on the phone. My hands gripped the sheets tightly. Revenge came so fast. Mark hung up. In the dark, he didn’t speak, just went to the balcony to smoke a cigarette. The glowing ember seemed to be counting down our time. Early the next morning. Mark put on his faded work clothes, pretending nothing happened. “I’m going to work. I’ll bring roast duck tonight.” He smiled honestly, exhaustion hiding in the wrinkles of his eyes. I knew he was going to beg. Or look for odd jobs at other shops. With his leg, he couldn’t find a good job. After Mark left, I sent Lily to daycare. Then, I got on the bus to the city center. I was going to end this. Outside the window, scenery flew by. When passing the famous music conservatory, my heart spasmed in pain. Ten years ago. I looked out the window like this too. Back then, I held a gold-stamped admission letter. I was the provincial piano competition champion. I was Ava, the “genius girl.” My future was bright. Until that night. My parents suddenly knelt before me. That kneel broke my spine. “Ava, Grandma has late-stage brain cancer. Surgery costs a hundred thousand.” “We don’t have money! Selling the house isn’t enough!” “But someone is willing to pay, as long as you… as long as you give up your admission letter.” Give up? Was that giving up? It was making me disappear from this world! It was letting Chloe take my name, take my life, and go to that university! I refused. I was a person; I had dreams too. But Father took out a bottle of pesticide. He stood by Grandma’s sickbed, threatening to pour the poison into her mouth. “Since we can’t afford treatment, let’s all die together!” Mother kowtowed until her face was bloody. “Ava, she’s your own sister! She’s weak, can’t do heavy work. If you don’t help her, she’s ruined!” “You have hands and feet; you can live without college!” What laughable logic. To save Grandma. For this family. I signed. I signed the severance of ties, signed the non-disclosure agreement. That night, my ID was confiscated, and I was put on a bus to a factory in the south. I pressed against the window, watching Chloe wearing my favorite white dress, smiling under the streetlight. She took everything from me. Memories sawed back and forth in my brain like a rusty blade. It hurt so much I almost suffocated. The bus arrived. City Central Hospital. I got off and took a deep breath. Cold air rushed into my lungs, making me cough violently. Following the information Chloe gave, I found the VIP ward. Through the glass window. I saw those leech parents. Father David lay in bed, sallow-faced, on an IV drip. Mother Sarah was peeling an apple for him. Chloe sat on the sofa nearby, admiring her well-maintained hands. What a heartwarming scene. I pushed the door open. Bang! The door hit the wall with a loud crash. The three people in the room looked over simultaneously. Seeing me, David’s cloudy eyes showed no joy, only calculation. Like a hungry wolf seeing meat. “Ava is here?” Sarah put down the apple, put on a loving mother’s face, and rushed over. “My child, Mom missed you so much!” “Your dad is dying; he just wants to see you.” She tried to take my hand. I dodged sideways. Her hand hung in midair, awkward for a moment, then she wiped tears again. “Child, still hate Mom and Dad?” “Didn’t we give you that three hundred thousand back then?” I stood in the center of the ward, looking coldly at this family of actors. “Mark’s job, was that your doing?” I didn’t waste words. “Get him reinstated, compensate for the loss, or no deal.” Chloe stood up. She was wearing a Chanel suit today, still noble. “As long as you agree to the typing and donate a kidney to Dad.” “Forget the job, I’ll give you a hundred thousand.” “A hundred thousand is enough for a bottom-feeder like you to spend for a lifetime.” Her tone was contemptuous, like dismissing a beggar. I stared into Chloe’s eyes. Walked towards her step by step. “You think I lived well these years with that so-called selling price?” Chloe frowned, looking innocent. “Didn’t you?” “Mom and Dad gave you three hundred thousand. You said you wanted to travel the world, didn’t want to study because it was too tiring, so I reluctantly went in your place.” “In these ten years, you must have spent all the money, right?” “Otherwise, why would you be delivering food?” I froze. Then, a huge sense of absurdity welled up. I started laughing. Laughing until I couldn’t stand straight, laughing until tears spurted out. “Hahahaha…” “Three hundred thousand? Travel the world?” I stopped laughing abruptly, grabbing Chloe’s wrist. Those were hands that played piano—white, slender, callous-free. Then. I shoved my own hands right in front of her eyes. Right in front of her exquisite face. “Open your dog eyes and look!” “Are these hands that traveled the world?” Those hands. Covered in calluses, joints swollen and deformed. The backs were red and swollen with ulcerated chilblains. These were hands that turned screws for ten years. Hands that delivered food for three years. Hands that washed dishes in winter and moved cement in summer! Chloe backed away in horror, trying to break free. “You… what are you doing? So dirty!” “Dirty?” I gripped harder. “There’s dirtier.” I turned to look at David feigning death on the bed, and Sarah looking guilty. “Chloe, ask these good parents.” “Where did that three hundred thousand go back then?” Chloe looked at her parents. “Dad, Mom, what’s going on?” Sarah avoided eye contact, daring not look at me. David turned angry from shame, roaring: “Why ask! The money is spent!” I answered for him. “I’ll tell you.” “That night, a hundred thousand was taken by him to pay gambling debts!” “The remaining two hundred thousand bought you that Steinway piano, hired famous teachers, paved your way!” Chloe froze. “Then… then Grandma?” “Grandma’s surgery fee?” I gritted my teeth, every word dripping blood: “Grandma didn’t use a cent!” “She died of pain!” “Because there was no money for surgery, the hospital kicked her out. She died of pain in that leaky shack!” “And I was locked in a black factory, didn’t even see her one last time!”

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My mother is a spiritual healer who preaches “Absolute Positivity.” She says, “Keep smiling, and the world will love you back.” When I was sad, she made me practice smiling in the mirror. When I was scared, she made me shout positive affirmations. I lived like a puppet wearing a smiling mask. Later, I was bullied at school. They dragged me into the boys’ bathroom, forced me to drink urine, stripped me naked, and filmed it. Covered in filth, I went home to ask my mother for help. She smiled and handed me her new book, 100 Ways to Reconcile with the World. “You need to embrace them. Use love and sunshine to influence them.” “Remember, never bring negative energy home.” The next day, I stood on the school roof, facing everyone below. I flashed the most standard smile I had practiced, then jumped. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day before the bullying incident. A cold voice exploded in my mind: [Negative energy accumulation complete. Darkening System activated. Rebooting life…] 1 After the mechanical voice vanished, my mother Linda’s voice sounded in my ear. “Ava, good morning. Be grateful for a new day.” She held a glass of celery juice, wearing her signature smile. I glanced at the clock on the wall. 6:00 AM sharp. Yesterday—or rather, this day in my past life—I stayed in bed for five extra minutes because of period cramps. As a result, she made me copy “I love this vibrant world” a hundred times. I sat up in bed. My stomach still ached faintly—a phantom pain from my shattered internal organs in my past life. I didn’t speak. Linda frowned slightly. “Ava, your energy field is very low.” She handed the celery juice to me. “Drink it. Purify your magnetic field.” The juice smelled raw and fishy. I didn’t take it. “Mom, my stomach hurts.” I said words I didn’t dare say in my past life. Linda’s smile froze for a second. “Pain is an illusion. It’s because your heart isn’t pure enough, attracting negative energy.” She almost shoved the glass into my mouth. “Say ‘I love you’ to this water three times, then drink it. The pain will disappear.” I looked at her eternally smiling face. Ridiculous. In my past life, I believed her nonsense. When I was being bullied, I chanted “I love you” in my heart. The result? Louder ridicule and harder slaps. The mechanical voice in my head rang again: [Detected mental oppression. Resentment Points +10.] [Current Darkening Progress: 1%.] [Please continue accumulating to unlock the ‘Eye for an Eye’ Starter Pack.] So that’s how it works. I took the celery juice. Linda nodded in satisfaction. “That’s right. Learn to submit to the universe’s arrangement.” I loosened my grip. Smash! The glass shattered on the floor. Linda screamed. “Ava! What are you doing?!” Her perfect mask finally cracked. “Slipped.” “Maybe the universe didn’t want me to drink it.” Linda took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She was regulating her breathing, trying to suppress her anger. In her view, anger was a sign of a lower organism. She was a high-level spiritual mentor; she couldn’t break character. Half a minute later, she opened her eyes and put the smile back on. “It’s okay. This is the universe testing my patience.” “Go put on the Smile Corrector.” “You can eat when your smile satisfies me.” The Smile Corrector. It was a pink plastic mouthpiece used to forcibly widen the corners of the mouth. Wearing it kept the mouth open constantly; you couldn’t even swallow saliva. In my past life, I spent countless nights wearing it. The corners of my mouth were worn raw, scabbed over, and worn raw again. I watched her take the torture device from the drawer. “Mom, I don’t want to wear it.” “It’s not up to you.” Linda walked over and pinched my chin hard. “Ava, I’m doing this for your own good.” “That gloomy face of yours brings bad luck to anyone who sees it.” “Only a smile can change destiny.” She forced the corrector into my mouth. The plastic stretched my lips, stinging my gums. I was forced into a comical yet hideous grin. Linda clapped her hands in satisfaction. “Look, how beautiful.” “Keep this state and go to school.” “Let everyone feel your positive energy.” The voice in my head kept pinging: [Suffered physical torture. Resentment Points +20.] [Suffered personal insult. Resentment Points +30.] [Current Darkening Progress: 5%.] I grabbed my bag and walked out. Linda shouted from behind, “Remember to be grateful for everyone you meet!” Grateful my ass. Since you want me to smile. I’ll smile for you. Until the moment I can’t smile anymore. That will be when you cry. I put on a mask to cover the bizarre Smile Corrector. But I knew something more disgusting was waiting for me. Just as I entered the classroom, a half-dead cockroach flicked onto my shirt, its antennae still twitching. Laughter erupted in the classroom. “Yo, our Smiling Angel is here?” It was Caleb. The class bully, and one of the culprits who drove me to death. In my past life, he put the cockroach down my shirt. I was terrified, and he filmed it, laughing. I cried and called my mom. Mom said: “Flies don’t bite seamless eggs. You need to reflect on why they only bully you.” “Is it because you’re usually too gloomy and don’t fit in?” So I endured it. I smiled at Caleb and said it was okay, only to receive worse treatment. This time, I reached out and pinched the cockroach. In front of Caleb, I crushed it. Yellow-white fluid stained my fingertips. I pulled down my mask, leaned in close to Caleb, and flashed the bizarre grin fixed by the corrector, drool dripping down. Caleb’s face turned green instantly. He covered his mouth and retched. “Ava, you f*cking…” [Counterattack successful. Mentally polluted the bully. Resentment Points +30.] [Darkening Progress: 12%.] After school. Caleb and his gang blocked me at the bathroom entrance. This was the main event of my past life, and the beginning of my nightmare. “Ava, you’re acting tough today, huh?” Caleb held a box cutter, the blade pushed out, glinting coldly. “Dare to disgust me? Believe it or not, I’ll cut that rotten mouth of yours open.” The students beside him jeered. “Strip her clothes, let’s see how she pretends to be a saint then.” “Heard her mom is a charlatan? Then she must be good in bed too.” They shoved me, dragging me into the boys’ bathroom. I didn’t resist. Because the system prompted: [Major Trauma Node detected.] [Host will obtain key item: “Social Death Recording”.] I let them drag me in obediently. Caleb kicked my knee. Thud. I knelt on the floor, knee piercing with pain. But the corrector was still in my mouth. I was still smiling. Caleb peed into the urinal, then grabbed my hair and pressed my face into it. “Didn’t your mom tell you to be grateful? Come on, be grateful for this smell!” The stench of urine rushed into my nose. But I didn’t beg for mercy; I just counted silently in my heart. One. Two. Three. Every impact was accumulating power for my counterattack. They stripped off my jacket, tore my shirt, and started filming. “Look at this bitch, still smiling! Born to be a whore.” “Hey, Ava, tell the camera: ‘I’m enjoying it.’” Caleb held the phone, the lens almost touching my face. I looked up. My face was a mix of urine, dust, and blood. The corrector still propped my mouth open. I looked at the lens. “Caleb, I’m going to make you famous.” Caleb froze, then slapped me hard across the face. “Still talking back!” The slap knocked the corrector flying. The corner of my mouth tore. Blood gushed out, dripping down my chin onto my clothes. Finally. I wasn’t smiling anymore. [Resentment Points accumulation complete. Darkening System Phase 1 complete.] [Item obtained: Panoramic Invisible Camera. Automatically recorded the entire process, cloud backup, indestructible.] [Skill obtained: Pain Transfer. Every bit of pain you suffer will be returned hundredfold to the perpetrator.] Tired of beating me, they threw my bag into the urinal and left. “Bring five thousand dollars tomorrow, or this video goes online.” Caleb dropped these words before leaving. I climbed up from the floor, my whole body in pain. But I felt an unprecedented pleasure in my heart. I picked up the corrector from the floor, wiped the blood off, and put it in my pocket. This was important evidence. I looked at my disheveled self in the mirror and twitched my mouth. This time, it was a genuine smile. Showtime. 2 When I got home, I was filthy, missing two buttons on my shirt, exposed skin covered in bruises. Linda was livestreaming in the living room, her new book 100 Ways to Reconcile with the World displayed in front of her. “Family, as long as our hearts turn to the sun, the shadows will be behind us.” Comments scrolled fast. [Teacher Linda speaks so well!] [Listening to Teacher Linda cured my depression.] I slammed the door. The loud bang interrupted her rhythm. Linda frowned, then quickly adjusted her expression, saying to the camera: “Sorry family, my daughter is back.” “She might have encountered some setbacks. This is actually a great teaching case.” “Let’s see how to use love to dissolve negative emotions.” She walked towards me, aiming the camera at my wretched face. “Ava, did you have friction with classmates again?” “You always forget what I told you: love and tolerance.” “You look really low-frequency right now.” I looked at the camera. Vicious comments started appearing: [This is Teacher Linda’s daughter? Her eyes are scary, not sunny at all.] [Feel sorry for Teacher Linda having such a troublesome daughter.] I sneered. “Mom, I was beaten.” “They dragged me into the boys’ bathroom, forced me to eat sh*t, and took nude photos.” The livestream exploded. [WTF? Real or fake?] [School bullying?] Linda’s face changed. Not out of heartache for me, but fear that I would ruin her persona as the Happiness Mentor. She quickly covered the phone’s microphone and whispered: “Shut up! Tens of thousands are watching, don’t splash your dirty water on me!” Then she let go, showing a helpless, bitter smile to the camera. “Everyone, don’t misunderstand. This child is writing a novel lately and got too into character.” “Ava, go shower quickly, wash away this negative energy.” She reached out to push me into my room. “I’m not lying. Look at my injuries.” I rolled up my sleeve, revealing the purple bruises on my arm. Linda yanked my sleeve down to cover them. “Enough! It must be the darkness in your heart that attracted these demons.” “Quantum mechanics tells us everything has attraction. If your heart was full of love, how would violence find you?” This is my biological mother. She packaged victim-blaming as quantum mechanics. I looked at her, tears swirling in my eyes. Not from sadness. From rage. “So, if I get raped, it’s my fault?” “If I get beaten to death, I deserve it?” Slap! Linda moved the phone away and slapped me hard, right on the torn corner of my mouth. Drilling pain. “Don’t say such unlucky things! Go back to your room and repent in front of the mirror!” “Come out only when you’ve adjusted your mindset!” She shoved me into the room. Then she turned back to the camera, eyes teary. “Family, being a mother is really hard.” “But I won’t give up on her. I will use my love to slowly influence her.” “Please pray for my daughter, that she exorcises the demons in her heart soon.” The chat was full of [Go Teacher Linda], [Teacher Linda is so great]. Gifts flooded the screen—rockets, yachts. Money earned with my blood and tears. Linda took the opportunity to hold up her new book. “If your children are also in a rebellious phase, you must buy this book. It contains my original Smile Therapy.” “Just $19.99 to buy back family harmony.” At this moment, the system voice sounded. [Suffered betrayal by loved one. Resentment Points +50.] [Suffered public humiliation. Resentment Points +50.] [Darkening Progress: 50%.] [Warning: Resentment Points overflowing. Suggested to release immediately.] Release? No. Not enough yet. Tomorrow is Linda’s new book launch. There will be many reporters, influencers, and her fanatical followers. She wants to package me as the “problem teen saved by mother’s love.” That will be the peak of her career. And also her funeral. “System.” I chanted in my heart. “I want the most exciting, explosive, blood-pumping revenge version.” [Received. Generating the ‘Destruction Edition’ for you.] Outside, Linda ended the stream. She hummed a song, in a good mood. Probably because gift income hit a new high today. She knocked on my door. “Ava, there are many VIPs tomorrow. Don’t embarrass me.” “If you perform well tomorrow, I’ll buy you that phone you wanted.” A slap and a sweet date. Animal tamer tactics. I flashed a sweet smile at the door. “Understood, Mom.” “Tomorrow, I will definitely perform well.” “I will definitely make you… famous across the internet.” The next day, the house was decorated like a funeral hall. White lilies everywhere, white gauze curtains. Linda said this was the pure color of higher dimensions. I just found it ominous. Early in the morning, Linda rushed into my room with a concealer palette. “Get up and get ready.” She roughly applied concealer on my face, covering the bruises. Then blush and lipstick. Trying to disguise me as a healthy, happy girl. “Remember, on stage later, say you were ignorant before.” “Say my love influenced you.” “Say my book saved your soul.” “As long as you do this, I won’t pursue your nonsense yesterday.” I responded obediently. “Okay, Mom.” 10:00 AM. The living room was packed. Reporters with long lenses, fans holding light signs, and several influencers livestreaming. Linda wore a white gown, standing in the center of the stage. “Welcome everyone to my new book launch.” “Today, I want to share a miracle.” “My daughter, Ava, used to be a child full of negative energy, rebellious, and prone to self-harm.” The audience gasped. Linda wiped the corner of her eye, though there were no tears. “As a mother, my heart ached.” “But I didn’t give up. I used my mindfulness therapy to accompany and guide her day after day.” “Finally, a miracle happened!” “She changed. She became sunny, confident, and full of love.” Thunderous applause. “Teacher Linda is amazing!” “A mother’s love knows no bounds!” Linda smiled and extended her hand towards the stairs. “Now, please welcome my daughter, Ava.” Spotlights hit the stairs. Holding 100 Ways to Reconcile with the World, I slowly walked down. My face wore Linda’s favorite, standard smile. Linda walked over and took my hand. “Ava, my daughter, tell everyone, how did you walk out of the darkness?” She handed me the microphone, eyes full of expectation and warning. I took the mic and took a deep breath. “Hello everyone, I’m Ava.” “My mom is right. The old me was indeed full of negative energy.” “I was bullied by classmates and dared not resist.” “I was misunderstood by teachers and dared not explain.” “I even thought about dying.” The audience was quiet. Linda’s smile brightened; she was waiting for the “but.” This time, I turned and looked at her. “But, my mom taught me one thing.” “She said negative emotions are trash to be thrown away.” “She said pain is an illusion to be ignored.” “She said as long as you smile, the world will get better.” Linda nodded frequently, pride overflowing from her eyes. In my past life, I cooperated obediently. This time, I decided to raise the stakes. “So.” I suddenly raised my volume. “Yesterday, when I was pressed to the floor of the boys’ bathroom by five people and forced to eat sh*t.” “I smiled.” Everyone in the hall looked shocked. Linda’s smile froze. “Ava! What nonsense are you talking about!” She tried to grab my mic. I dodged and continued: “When they stripped me naked and filmed a video, I smiled too.” “Because my mom said to be grateful for every tribulation.” Reporters below started snapping photos frantically. Fans looked at each other, bewildered. Linda panicked completely. “Cut the mic! Cut it quickly!” 3 Linda roared at the backstage crew. A piercing screech of feedback came from the speakers, and the microphone went dead. Linda rushed over, grabbing my arm tightly. “Ava, what do you think you’re doing?! Do you want to ruin me?!” She growled in a low voice. Ignoring her, I raised my hand and wiped the concealer off my face forcefully. Revealing the shocking bruises underneath. The swollen cheek, the split corner of my mouth, and the distinct finger marks. Gasps erupted from the audience. “Oh my god! Those are injuries!” “She was really beaten!” “Didn’t Teacher Linda say her daughter was doing well?” Linda was in complete disarray. She tried to block me with her body. “Th… this is makeup! Special effects makeup!” “She’s joking! This child is rebellious and likes pranks!” I took out my phone. With the system’s help, it connected to the large screen behind the stage. “Does everyone want to see a miracle? See how a saint maintains absolute positivity in pain.” Just as Linda backed away in horror, I pressed play on the big screen. It wasn’t a heartwarming home video, but the dark footage from the bathroom. “Smile! Why aren’t you smiling?” “Didn’t your mom tell you to be grateful?” Caleb’s vicious voice broadcast through the top-tier sound system to every corner of the room. On screen, I was kneeling on the floor, covered in filth. With that pink Smile Corrector stuffed in my mouth, being humiliated without dignity. “Strip her!” The scene changed to my naked upper body. The system automatically enabled privacy protection, blurring sensitive areas with high-grade mosaic. In contrast, my smile forced by the corrector was particularly clear. “Caleb, I love you.” In the video, I mechanically recited the slogan taught by Linda. At this moment, everyone in the hall was stunned. Those fans holding “Love and Peace” signs were shaking. Linda stood still, frozen. Her face was ashen, lips trembling, unable to make a sound. The video continued. It cut to last night. Linda’s exquisite face appeared on screen. “Ava! Don’t splash your dirty water on me!” “It must be the darkness in your heart that attracted these demons!” Those were her words after muting the livestream microphone. But the system’s invisible camera recorded it all. Including that resounding slap. The video ended. The screen went black. The hall was silent as a grave. Only Linda’s heavy breathing could be heard. I walked up to her and gently placed the bloodstained Smile Corrector in her hand. “Mom, do you like this gift?” Linda looked at the thing in her hand, trembling, then at me. Her eyes finally showed fear. True fear. The mechanical voice in my head exploded: [Antagonist’s mental defense successfully destroyed.] [Resentment Points exceeded limit!] [Darkening System Advanced: Nemesis Mode activated.] [Current Mission: Make everyone pay the price.] I flashed a brilliant smile at Linda. “Mom, why aren’t you smiling?” “Smile.” “The world is watching you.” “Ah—!” Linda finally reacted, letting out a piercing scream. She threw the Smile Corrector away violently. “It’s not true! This is all fake!” “It’s AI generated! She framed me!” Linda lunged at the reporters, trying to snatch their cameras. “Stop filming! Stop filming!” “Security! Throw them out!” But no one listened to her. Flashes went off like crazy, freezing her hideous, wretched appearance in time. The fans who once worshipped her as a god now looked at her with utter disgust. “Liar! So you’re this kind of person!” “You didn’t even care when your own daughter was bullied, calling it karma?” “Refund! Give me my book money back!” Someone threw the book 100 Ways to Reconcile with the World onto the stage. Smack. The book hit Linda’s face, the sharp corner cutting her forehead. Blood flowed down. But this was just the beginning. More and more books and water bottles flew towards the stage. “Get out of the healing circle!” “Scum mother!” The scene was completely out of control. Linda huddled in the center of the stage, holding her head, her expensive white gown now filthy. She was still stubborn: “You are all controlled by negative energy!” “You are creating bad karma!” I stood aside, watching coldly. System notification: [Antagonist’s social status collapsed. Satisfaction Points +100.] [Detected massive crowd anger, converting to Host Energy.] [Unlocked new item: Truth Megaphone. Forces target to speak their true inner thoughts for 10 minutes.] At this moment, the police arrived. Someone had called the police, reporting a riot and suspected child abuse. The leading officer saw the frozen image on the big screen, his face grim. “Who is Linda?” Linda rushed over. “Officer! Save me! These people are crazy!” “I’m the victim! My daughter conspired with outsiders to frame me!” The officer pushed her away coldly. “Ms. Linda, we received reports that you are suspected of abusing a minor and covering up school violence.” “Also, regarding the content in that video, we need your cooperation in the investigation.” Linda froze. “I didn’t! I’m an education expert! I’m a spiritual mentor! I did it for her own good!” The officer didn’t listen to her nonsense. “Save it for the station.” As Linda was taken away, she kept looking back to glare at me. “Ava! You ungrateful wolf!” “I gave birth to you and raised you, and this is how you repay me?” “Just you wait! When I come back, I’ll send you to a mental hospital!” I stood on the high platform, looking down at her. “System, use Truth Megaphone immediately. Target: Linda.” As soon as I chanted in my mind, an invisible wave spread out. Linda was still cursing, but suddenly, her expression went blank for a second. Then, her mouth opened uncontrollably. Her voice, amplified invisibly, spread throughout the venue. “Damn money-losing goods! I should have strangled you at birth!” “I gave birth to you to build my persona and make money. Who knew you were so useless!” “As long as I can sell books and make money, so what if you get raped?” “My reputation is worth ten thousand times more than your rotten life!” The venue fell silent again. Even the police stopped, looking back at her in disbelief. Linda covered her mouth in horror. She didn’t want to say these things. She wanted to say “Mom loves you,” “Mom is innocent.” But her mouth wouldn’t obey. The darkest, most vicious thoughts hidden in her heart poured out. “You stupid fans deserve to be scammed by me!” “What positive energy? It’s all bullshit! A bunch of losers with unhappy lives deserve to pay me!” “Hahahaha! A bunch of leeks…” Linda wept in despair, but her mouth kept spewing insults. In this moment, her saintly mask shattered into powder. The fans went berserk. If not for the police blocking them, Linda might have been beaten to death on the spot. I watched coldly as she was stuffed into the police car. Is this the end? No. Linda is just the beginning. There’s Caleb. And others at school. Are you ready? It’s your turn.

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The apocalypse had dawned, and I was the team’s sole lucky charm. As long as I stood there in my pretty dress, no infected creature dared approach within ten miles. Tyler and the others treated me like fragile porcelain, terrified I might stumble or bruise myself. That was until they rescued Commander Valerie Stone, a woman brimming with fierce conviction. From the moment she arrived, she couldn’t stomach the sight of me eating the best canned food and sleeping on the softest bed. Her mouth was full of talk about “equality for all” and “no freeloaders.” When a zombie horde swept in, everyone was busy building defenses. I was sipping my caramel latte, trying to calm my nerves. Valerie stormed over, slapped the cup from my hand, and, grabbing my hair, shoved me towards the advancing tide. “Everyone else is fighting tooth and nail, why do you get special treatment? If you’re an ability user, then get to the front lines and kill!” I stumbled into the muddy water, tears streaming down my face. “Please, I’m scared of getting hurt, and my ability… it doesn’t work that way.” She kicked me out of the safety zone. “Excuses! You’re just a cowardly, spoiled brat, a useless burden!” Before I could react, a hard combat boot slammed into my lower back, sending me sprawling. … “Ah!” I landed in a puddle of mud just outside the fortress perimeter. My lace dress was soaked through, my knees scraping against sharp stones. I cradled the half empty caramel latte still in my hand, but then a heavy military boot came down. Smash! The cup shattered, splashing latte all over my face. “Drinking? You’re a joke!” Valerie Stone, clad in a combat vest, grabbed my hair, forcing my head back. “See that? That’s reality! Not your childish games!” My gaze was wrenched towards the undulating mass of infected, less than five hundred yards from our defensive line. Tyler had told me I was a fragment of divine grace, humanity’s last pure spot, and my ability was the Sanctuary. As long as I stayed happy and undefiled, I could project a field of absolute safety. But now I was covered in mud, my dress shredded. The infected, sensing the shift, turned their hollow, grey eyes towards me in unison. “Hnnnngh—” A chorus of guttural growls filled the air. I started trembling uncontrollably. “Please, I can’t… my ability isn’t for combat.” “Tyler? Don’t you dare try to use the Captain’s name against me!” Valerie yanked me to my feet and shoved me again, towards the horde. “Still lying? What do you mean ‘can’t get dirty’? You’re just pampered and terrified! Today, I’m going to make you see some blood! Go! Kill one of them for me!” I stumbled through the barbed wire gate, my foot slipped, and I fell, landing less than fifty yards from the nearest infected. It was a business-suited zombie, missing half its head, tilting to the side, making a rattling sound in its throat. It shuffled towards me, step by agonizing step. I squeezed my eyes shut, wrapping my arms around my head. One second, two seconds… The pain I anticipated never came. Instead, an eerie silence settled around me. I tentatively opened my eyes. The suited infected had stopped ten yards away, rigid, paralyzed with fear. Even though my dress was dirty, the lingering essence of my Sanctuary still held them back. They dared not touch me. “Ha! Hahahaha! Did everyone see that? These infected are nothing but idiots!” Valerie strode over, grabbed the back of my collar, and dragged me back. “I knew you were faking it! These zombies are pathetically weak, and you were scared senseless?” I struggled, my fingernails digging into the mud. “No! It’s because I’m here! That’s why they didn’t move! Let me go, I need to wash and change, or the aura will vanish!” “Wash?” Valerie abruptly released me, sending me sprawling onto the base’s concrete plaza. Survivors gathered, bowls in hand. With Tyler around, no one had dared speak, but now, the suppressed jealousy surged forth. “Listen, everyone!” Valerie stood on a stone, pointing at my mud streaked form. “This is your so called ‘lucky charm’! I just threw her at the infected, and they completely ignored her! It proves that the zombies out there aren’t so terrifying! We’ve all been deceived by her!” “She’s been exploiting your fear, spinning lies to get fed and housed! This kind of parasite deserves to be exterminated by all!” Whispers erupted from the crowd. “She’s right, I saw it too. The infected really didn’t move.” “Could we have really been fooled all this time? There’s no such thing as an aura?” “Damn it, last time I almost got my leg bitten off trying to find her a bottle of shampoo!” “No…” I shook my head, trying to explain, but my throat was too dry to make a sound. “Still making excuses?” Valerie sneered, drawing a combat knife as she advanced. “Since you’re so fond of looking pretty, so obsessed with cleanliness, then I’ll help you cure that nasty habit!” “What are you doing…” I shrank back, but Valerie snatched at the hem of my dress. Rip! The lace skirt was sliced open by Valerie’s knife. “No! Tyler gave me this!” I shrieked, lunging to grab it back. This wasn’t just a dress; it was the conduit for my ability, my sole source of security. Smack! Valerie backhanded me across the face, making my ears ring. “Tyler, Tyler! Are you utterly helpless without a man to cling to?” Valerie looked at me with disgust. “This is the apocalypse! Only warriors survive! Not women like you!” Her hand moved swiftly, rip, rip, rip, and in a few swift slashes, the once full and elegant dress was reduced to a pile of shredded fabric. The cold wind bit into my skin; I was left in nothing but a thin camisole. The shame was a sharper sting than the cold. Catcalls and crude laughter erupted, men’s gazes raking over my exposed skin. “What are you looking at!” Valerie snapped, glaring back at them, then kicked a dark, lumpy object towards me. It was a set of oil-stained, blood-splattered camouflage fatigues. A patch of rotting flesh clung to the collar, reeking of decay. “Put it on,” she commanded. “It belonged to Old Man Beckett, who died yesterday.” I stared at the clothes, my stomach clenching. I had an inherent fastidiousness, a core component of my power. Donning those clothes, tainted with death, would irrevocably corrupt the Sanctuary. “I won’t wear it… please, find me something clean…” I begged, tears streaming down my face. “Clean? Where do you think you are?” Valerie grabbed me, roughly forcing the filthy clothes over my head. “You’re asking for trouble, aren’t you? If you don’t want to wear them, then you can just go naked!” Her rough fingers dug into my skin, leaving raw red marks as the death tainted uniform was brutally forced onto me. In that instant, I distinctly felt the power within me extinguish, and the world grew cold and bleak. Boom— The sky turned an ominous, bruised red. The warning lights on the perimeter fence buzzed faintly. I glanced in that direction, my heart seizing. It was the warning of an ability collapse; the horde was about to retaliate. “Do you hear that?” I grabbed at Valerie’s combat trousers. “Something’s wrong out there! Get everyone to the bunkers!” Valerie merely kicked me aside, glanced at the sky, and snorted. “Don’t spread your fear mongering. That’s just thunder! What, are you scared of a storm now?” She turned to the crowd. “See that? This is your so called ‘lucky charm’!” “The slightest disturbance, and she’s pissing herself in terror! From today on, you’re Survivor 9527! Since you eat our rations, you’ll do our work!” Valerie pointed towards the medical tent. “That’s the quarantine zone. Hundreds of bloodied uniforms from the front lines are piled in there. You’ll wash them. No food until you’re done!” A cheer erupted from the crowd, but only Old Man Silas, his apron stained with grease, pushed his way forward. “Commander Stone, you mustn’t…” Old Man Silas fell to his knees, kowtowing. “The girl’s skin is too delicate. Those clothes in quarantine are crawling with pathogens! One scratch, and she could turn! If you need help, I’ll go wash them!” Valerie walked up to Old Man Silas, looking down at him. “Old fool, who asked you to speak?” “Since you’re so keen on playing the good samaritan, so concerned for her…” Crack! Valerie raised her foot and stomped, directly crushing Old Man Silas’s shin bone. “Ah—!” Old Man Silas screamed, clutching his leg, rolling on the ground as cold sweat drenched his clothes. “Old Man Silas!” I rushed forward to help him, but Valerie seized my hair, pulling me up. “That’s the consequence of defying me. Does anyone else want to plead for her?” The entire plaza fell silent. No one dared move. Valerie leaned close to my face, whispering, “See? You caused this. You caused him to break his leg. This is the original sin of the weak.” It was psychological warfare. “I hate you…” I bit out, glaring at her. “You’ll regret this… you’ll pay for it!” Smack! Another slap, making my ears ring even louder. “Get him out of here,” Valerie ordered, pointing at the groaning Old Man Silas. “This base doesn’t shelter freeloaders.” “No!” I clung to Old Man Silas, desperate. “He’s our cook! He can still make meals! You can’t do this!” “Cook? Anyone with hands can cook!” Valerie waved her hand, and two burly men, their faces expressionless, hoisted Old Man Silas and dragged him towards the main gate. “My girl… survive… you must survive…” Old Man Silas looked back at me, tears streaming down his face. In that moment, a vital thread inside me snapped. I felt no pain, no fear. Only a cold, searing hatred spread through my body. If they didn’t need a Sanctuary, then let this entire goddamn world descend into hell. One kilometer outside the base, a colossal, black scaled monstrosity burst from the earth. It sniffed the air, detecting the fading sacred aura, and a raw, hateful stench of blood filled the air. The quarantine zone’s washroom reeked of disinfectant and blood. In the tin basin before me, dozens of bloodied clothes soaked. The water had turned blackish red, greasy scum floating on its surface. My hands were numb, high concentration disinfectant combined with zombie pathogens had left them covered in red rashes and blisters. But I scrubbed mechanically, my mind replaying only Old Man Silas’s desperate gaze before he was dragged out of the base. “9527! Hurry up!” The guard at the door hammered on the metal door with his rifle butt. This same guard had once brought me wildflowers, but now, his eyes held only disgust. Valerie had told everyone that if I didn’t finish washing the clothes, everyone’s dinner would be halved. She knew how to exploit human nature, turning me into the common enemy. “Just two more…” I mumbled, lowering my head to continue scrubbing, when suddenly the ground violently shook. The box of washing powder on the shelf toppled and shattered. “An earthquake?” The guard looked out, puzzled. Boom— Another deafening roar, and I could hear the walls cracking. Immediately, the piercing wail of a Level One Combat Alert ripped through the air. I stumbled, fell, and landed back in the filthy water. I knew it had come. The Zombie King, suppressed by the Sanctuary for three long years. I pushed myself up against the wall, reaching the window. Through the grimy glass, I saw a massive breach in the base’s perimeter wall. Tens of thousands of infected were clambering over the corpses of their own, pouring through the gap. At the very forefront was a three meter tall Brute. With every strike, it took a life. Screams, gunfire, and desperate cries exploded into chaos. The very people who had mocked me moments ago were now scrambling in terror. “Help! The infected are inside!” “How can this be? How did they get so strong, so fast? We can’t hold them! Run!” I couldn’t help but laugh at the scene, tears streaming down my face. This was what they wanted. Bang! The washroom door was kicked open. Valerie burst in, her left arm bleeding, her eyes wild. She lunged at me, grabbing my throat and lifting me off my feet. “You did this, didn’t you?!” “You led them here! How could the infected suddenly become so strong? You must have tampered with something!” Choking, my face turning crimson, my legs flailing, I managed to gasp out, “I… told you… I was… a good omen…” “To hell with your good omens!” Valerie threw me to the ground and dragged me towards the exit. “Since you brought them here, you’ll be responsible for leading them away!” “What are you doing?!” I desperately clawed at the ground, my fingernails tearing. “What am I doing?” Valerie looked back, a twisted smile on her face. “I’m going to hang you on the flagpole. The infected love eating flesh, don’t they? If they’re busy devouring you, we’ll have time to retreat! This is the most valuable thing you’ll ever do – a sacrifice for the collective!”

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I was having Christmas Eve dinner with my parents when my wife’s assistant, Brendan Cole, suddenly called and unleashed a torrent of abuse. “Arthur Reid, have you been washing your brain along with the laundry all day? I warned you repeatedly, Ms. Clarke is working overtime on a project this holiday, and no one is to disturb her! You act like you don’t understand basic English, sending your parents to cause trouble, almost ruining months of company effort! Can you bear the consequences of that?” “If you can’t control those two senile old fools, I don’t mind giving them a proper lesson myself!” Completely bewildered, I looked at my parents sitting across from me. “Brendan, aren’t you mistaken? My parents are clearly…” Brendan scoffed. From the other end of the line, I suddenly heard familiar cries and pleas. “Stop, what right do you have to hit us? We were just worried about Sophia working over Christmas, trying to bring her some homemade pot pies…” I snapped back to reality, gritting my teeth as I roared. “Brendan, are you insane? They’re Sophia Clarke’s parents!” Brendan let out a mocking laugh. “Still won’t admit your mistake? Pulling the ‘respected elder’ card won’t work on me! Get them! Beat the old fools senseless! I want to see how tough their mouths really are!” … The horrific screams from the phone line turned my mind to ice. “You’re mad, you’ve completely lost it! I’m warning you, tell Sophia immediately to get them to a hospital! Otherwise, you’re finished!” Sophia had worked overtime every Christmas for the past three years. My in-laws must have wanted to surprise her, traveling all the way from their hometown. While I was a little surprised, there was no mistaking their voices. This bastard Brendan dared to abuse his power, acting like a complete tyrant! Sophia would never let him get away with this! Yet, in response to my warning, Brendan’s laughter grew louder, laced with heavy derision. “You’re a useless kept man, lying around at home, and you’re threatening me now? Do you really think just because you got lucky and married Ms. Clarke, your whole family can get away with bullying everyone?” “Without Ms. Clarke, you’re nothing!” As he spoke, another scream echoed from the other end. Brendan cackled, “I’ve got your old man under my boot right now! Come on, let me see how you plan to kill me!” My temper flared. “You’ve gone too far!” I knew Brendan always looked down on me. Constantly hinting that I was a freeloader. But Sophia always advised me not to stoop to the level of a young hothead like Brendan. “If others knew that besides our office tower, your family owns three other buildings collecting rent, people would get jealous! Don’t flash your wealth. Society is so volatile these days; I don’t want you to be targeted or get into any danger.” I wondered if Sophia would regret it when she learned Brendan had mistaken her parents for mine, subjecting them to such unrestrained brutality and humiliation. For the sake of my in-laws’ safety, I forced myself to calm down, squeezing out a reply through clenched teeth. “Brendan, I advise you not to make things worse! Tell Sophia about this immediately, there’s still a chance to salvage the situation…” Brendan, however, sighed. “What a spineless wretch. I was waiting for you to come kill me, but you’ve chickened out? After all that talk, you still have to use Ms. Clarke to pressure me?” “You want me to let your parents go? Simple. Kneel all night outside the corporate tower, admit your mistake, and confess you’re a useless kept man!” Amidst a burst of laughter from the other side, the call disconnected. My heart pounded with anxiety. I immediately stood up from the table, mumbled an excuse to my aging parents, and rushed to my car, speeding towards the office. Along the way, I floored the accelerator. First, I called the police, then tried Sophia’s number again and again. After more than a dozen calls, she finally picked up. “Arthur, what is it? I’m really busy here.” I rarely lost my temper with her. “What’s so busy about a lousy company? Don’t you know, your parents are being beaten half to death by Brendan!” Sophia’s own temper flared. “Arthur, what do you mean? Is it just because I didn’t come back to spend the holidays with you? Why are you being so sarcastic? Are all your promises to support my work just lies?” “And what did Brendan ever do to you? You can’t just slander him like this because you’re jealous of his success, can you?” I was almost laughing from pure exasperation. What was there to be jealous of Brendan for? “No, do you think I’m joking? Go check right now what Brendan has done! Those are your parents, don’t you care if they live or die? What’s wrong with them wanting to bring you a warm pot pie because they felt you were working too hard on Christmas? How dare Brendan—” Before I could finish, Sophia cut me off impatiently. “Enough! I’m really busy right now, I don’t have time for your made-up stories! If you really can’t stand Brendan, I’ll fire him once this project is done, alright? Are you satisfied now?” The dial tone that followed left me utterly numb. I called back, but she had blocked my number. Arriving at the corporate tower, I immediately spotted the scattered, trampled pot pies on the ground. And the horrifying bloodstains! My heart clenched. “Mom, Dad… where are you?!” I slammed the car door shut and rushed inside, only to be surrounded by several security guards. “What do you want? Stop! No unauthorized personnel allowed!” I scanned them; they looked unfamiliar. “I’m your Ms. Clarke’s husband, Arthur Reid!” However, as soon as I spoke, the guards’ eyes lit up. “So this is the guy Mr. Cole told us to teach a lesson? What a pathetic loser, trying to steal Mr. Cole’s woman!” Before I could react, the lead guard slammed a baton squarely on my head. My vision went black, and I tumbled to the ground. “What are you… what are you doing? Stop it! Have you gone mad, hitting me too?” But they showed no mercy. They rushed forward, kicking and punching me. “Heh, you deserve it, you shameless piece of trash! Why don’t you take a good look at yourself? Do you really think you’re worthy of Ms. Clarke? And you have the audacity to pester her, claiming to be her husband?” “Mr. Cole and Ms. Clarke are the real couple! They’re having Christmas Eve dinner upstairs with his parents and relatives right now, and your deadbeat parents came to cause trouble. How unlucky!” My heart lurched. My eyes widened in disbelief. “What nonsense are you talking about? Stop it, stop it… I’m warning you, I’ve already called the police, they’ll be here any minute!” Just then, a siren wailed in the distance. The guards’ movements paused briefly. But then, Brendan’s voice echoed. “Damn it, the bastard really called the police? What are you all standing around for? Drag him inside and clean up the mess on the floor!” I struggled desperately but couldn’t break free. They forcibly gagged me and dragged me like a dead dog into the security room. Powerless, I heard the police car pull up outside the corporate tower. The officers conducted their routine inquiry. But Brendan smoothly gave them an excuse. The police, still uneasy, contacted Sophia. Over the phone, Sophia chuckled softly. “My apologies, I’ll apologize on Brendan’s behalf! He was just playing a prank! He was upset that I had to work over Christmas, so he deliberately tried to mess with me. I deeply regret his waste of police resources!” “My parents? That scoundrel, how dare he curse my parents? Don’t worry, they’re safe back home…” My heart sank into the deepest abyss. In desperation, I fumbled for my phone in my pocket, trying to smash the security room window to create a commotion. The security guard holding me down glared, his eyes menacing. “What are you doing? Trying to get yourself killed?” He slammed his baton on my head. The pain made me writhe on the floor. The hand gripping my phone was exposed. Another guard, his face grim, stomped on my hand. Crunch! I convulsed in pain, unable to tell if it was my fingers snapping or the phone screen shattering. Bang! Suddenly, the security room door was violently thrown open. A final flicker of hope ignited in my chest, and I quickly looked up. But I only saw Brendan’s sneering face. “You damn dog, haven’t you caused Ms. Clarke enough trouble already? I was only planning to give you a small lesson. But it seems you still haven’t realized your mistake!” “Or do you think I’m all talk?” With that, he snapped his fingers. Two elderly figures, tightly bound, covered in blood, their bodies limp like rag dolls, were roughly thrown to the ground. Seeing those two familiar forms, my mind reeled, and I trembled uncontrollably. The moment the guards released me, I lunged forward like a madman. “Mom, Dad, are you alright? Don’t scare me like this, wake up!” “Brendan, you monster! Get them to a hospital, now!” Brendan roared with laughter, seemingly enjoying my pathetic state. “I really thought you didn’t care if these old fools lived or died! So where did you get the nerve not to just kneel and beg for mercy, but to actually call the police and go against me?” I was beyond arguing with him. As I tried to shake my father-in-law’s shoulder, he remained unresponsive. Blood steadily gushed from his mouth and nose. My mother-in-law was no better, her face a bloody mess, gasping for every breath. I suddenly looked up, staring fiercely at Brendan. I wanted to demand, Why? Whether these were Sophia’s parents or my own, how could he be so cruel to two innocent elderly people? But I didn’t dare provoke his brutality further. Gritting my teeth, I bowed my head and pleaded. “Their lives are on the line, they really can’t hold on! You don’t want to be a murderer, do you?” “Brendan, you just want me to kneel and admit I’m a useless kept man, right? I’ll kneel, alright?” Brendan raised an eyebrow, scoffing. “Oh, finally giving up the tough act? You wouldn’t admit your mistake earlier, you wouldn’t admit it later. Now that you’re at your wits’ end, you suddenly ‘realize’ your mistake? You haven’t realized your mistake, you’re just scared!” I was desperate. “What do you want, then? What will it take for you to let them go?” Brendan snapped his fingers again. The guards behind him rushed forward, pinning me down. Thud! My knees slammed hard against the ground. Brendan lightly patted my face, full of humiliation. “If you truly understand your mistake, you’d know what I want. Show me sufficient sincerity!”

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“Alice, for the team-building event, please transfer the money. It’s $386 per person.” Charlotte slammed her payment QR code onto my desk, tapping her nails impatiently. This was the 23rd time I’d received that QR code in my two years and three months at the company. I had never attended. “Alright,” I said, scanning the code, entering $386, and hitting send. She pocketed her phone, walking away without a backward glance. Laughter erupted behind her. Ben from the next team leaned over to ask her, “Charlotte, that sushi place last night was fantastic, wasn’t it? The salmon sashimi was incredibly rich.” “Right? We should go again.” I stared at the transaction record: $8,878. Two years and three months, $8,878. I turned off my phone and returned to refining my proposal. 1 “Alice, is the proposal ready?” Mr. Davies’ voice drifted from his office doorway. “It’s ready, Mr. Davies.” I emailed the file to him, then printed a copy and brought it over. He flipped through a couple of pages, nodding. “Good, we’ll present it to the client this afternoon.” I turned to leave, hearing him call out to Charlotte. “Charlotte, you’ll join me for the presentation this afternoon.” “Of course, Mr. Davies.” My steps faltered, but I didn’t turn back. I’d spent three days writing that proposal, pulling two all-nighters. Charlotte hadn’t touched a single word. Yet, she was the one presenting it. It wasn’t the first time. Back at my desk, Sarah was touching up her lipstick. Seeing me, she pursed her lips. “Oh, Alice, Charlotte said she optimized your proposal for you.” “Oh.” “Honestly, you’re too kind. Letting Charlotte touch up your own work, it’s a bit much, isn’t it?” I said nothing, opening the document to check the revision history. Last modification: Alice, yesterday 11:47 PM. Where was this “optimization”? I closed the document and continued working. At four that afternoon, Charlotte emerged from the conference room, a smile on her face. “Mr. Davies said the client was very pleased,” she said as she passed my desk, her voice just loud enough to be heard. “The project bonus should be substantial this time.” Ben crowded closer. “Amazing, Charlotte!” “Oh, it was mostly because the proposal was so well-written,” she replied, glancing at me. I couldn’t decipher the look in her eyes. Or rather, I pretended not to. At closing time, I received a group message. “Celebration tonight, same place, 7 PM.” It was from Charlotte. I glanced at the group name: “Operations Team Socials.” There were seventeen people in the group, and I was one of them. Over a dozen replies had already come in: “Okay,” “See you there,” “Got it.” I didn’t respond. Because I knew, though the message was sent to the group, it wasn’t really meant for me. Sure enough, at half past seven, Charlotte sent me a payment QR code. “Alice, for tonight’s dinner, it’s $412 per person.” I stared at the number, $412. A celebration dinner. Celebrating a proposal I had written. I opened the transfer page, entered $412. My finger hovered over “Send” for three seconds. Then I pressed it. 2 The next morning, I opened my computer. A new email lay in my inbox. Sender: Ms. Jenkins, HR. Subject: Q3 Project Bonus Disbursement. I clicked it open and scrolled down. “Operations Department Q3 Key Project – [Brand Name] Promotion Proposal, Bonus $15,000, Recipient: Charlotte Hayes.” I stared at that line of text for a long time. $15,000. My proposal, my sleepless nights, my lost hair. $15,000, and not a cent for me. “Alice, what are you staring at?” Sarah’s voice came from beside me. I closed my inbox. “Nothing.” “Oh, right. Charlotte said to put together next month’s schedule for her; she needs it this afternoon.” “Okay.” I opened Excel and started creating the spreadsheet. Halfway through, I heard Charlotte’s voice. “Mr. Davies, I received the bonus, thank you!” “You’re welcome. The proposal was indeed excellent this time.” “It’s mainly because of good teamwork; everyone contributed.” My fingers paused. Everyone contributed. I looked up, meeting Charlotte’s gaze. She smiled at me, a gentle, polite smile. “Alice, is the schedule ready?” “Almost.” “Hurry up, don’t hold things up.” She left. I continued working on the spreadsheet. During lunch, Lily, the new intern, sat across from me. “Alice, can I ask you something?” “Hm?” “Well, yesterday I heard Charlotte say that the [Brand Name] proposal was hers, but I remember…” She paused, lowering her voice. “I remember I printed the first draft of that proposal for you, and it had your name on it.” My hand, holding my fork, stopped. “You must have misread it.” “But…” “Lily,” I interrupted her, “in the workplace, ask less, say less, and mind your own business less.” She froze, her mouth opening, then closing. She said no more. I continued eating. My hand holding the fork trembled slightly. At five that afternoon, Charlotte sent another message in the group chat. “Friday department social: Escape Room + Hot Pot. Reply with ‘1’ to sign up.” The messages quickly piled up. “1” “1” “1” Over a dozen “1”s, but none from me. I didn’t reply. Because I knew, even if I did, no one would acknowledge it. I had tried it once, two years ago. I replied with “1” in the group, then waited at the office until seven that Friday. No one called me. I messaged Sarah, “What time are we leaving?” She replied, “Oh? Are you coming? I thought you weren’t. We’re already there.” Since then, I never replied with “1” again. But the money, they always collected. That Friday afternoon, Charlotte sent the payment QR code right on time. “Team-building fee, $298 per person.” I stared at the number, suddenly feeling utterly exhausted. Not physically, but a weariness that seeped into my very bones. Two years. I had been in this department for two years. I had written over thirty proposals, and not a single one bore my name. I had attended zero team-building events, but paid for twenty-three. I was like a ghost, only remembered when money was needed. “Alice, have you transferred it?” Charlotte’s voice came from nearby. I looked up at her. “Charlotte, can I ask you a question?” “What?” “Why am I never invited to these team-building events?” She paused, then chuckled. “You are invited, I post in the group, don’t I?” “But no one ever tells me the specific time or location.” “Well, why don’t you ask?” Her tone took on a hint of impatience. “Everyone’s busy, who has time to notify each person individually? Besides, you usually don’t talk much to anyone, so we just assumed you didn’t want to come.” “But the money…” “It’s splitting the bill, it’s normal. If you don’t come, that’s your choice. But everyone pays their share, we can’t expect others to pay more just because you don’t show up, can we?” She sounded perfectly righteous. I opened my mouth, unsure how to refute her. Her logic seemed wrong, yet somehow also perfectly sound. “Alright, hurry up and transfer it, I still need to book the private room.” She urged me. I lowered my head, scanned the code, entered $298, and hit send. “Transfer Successful.” I stared at those two words, and then I laughed. Laughed at myself. 3 Monday morning, I arrived half an hour earlier than usual. The office was empty. I opened my computer and logged into the company intranet. I was going to do something. Something I should have done two years ago. I opened the project management system and clicked into the [Brand Name] Promotion Proposal document. All revision histories, exported. Then the six proposals from the first half of the year, all exported. Then the twelve proposals from last year, all exported. Every document, every revision, who made it, what was changed, when it was changed—all clear as day. I saved them to a USB drive. Then I opened my phone and pulled up all my transaction records from the past two years. $8,878 + $298 = $9,176. I took screenshots and saved them to the USB drive. Finally, I opened my messaging app, found the “Operations Team Socials” group. This group was created two years and three months ago, the month I joined. I clicked on the member list, counting them one by one. Seventeen people. Then I clicked into the chat history, searching for the phrase “team-building.” One hundred and forty-seven messages. I scrolled through them one by one. Beneath every team-building announcement, there were dozens of replies. None were mine. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to reply; it was that every time I did, no one acknowledged me. Over time, I simply stopped replying. I screenshotted these chat records too, saving them to the USB drive. Done with all this, I leaned back in my chair and took a deep breath. Two years. I had spent two years weaving a cocoon around myself. I thought if I just endured, it would pass. I thought if I spoke less, I wouldn’t offend anyone. I thought if I just did my job well, I would be seen. I was wrong. The workplace wasn’t an exam where you got points for correct answers. The workplace was a jungle. If you didn’t bite, people would bite you. “Alice? What are you doing here so early?” Sarah’s voice came from the doorway. I closed my laptop screen, turned, and smiled at her. “Couldn’t sleep, so I came in early.” “Oh.” She gave me a suspicious glance, saying nothing more. At nine, Charlotte arrived, right on time. As she passed my desk, she casually said, “Alice, the team-building event last Friday was a lot of fun. Too bad you missed it.” “Really? I’ll definitely go next time.” She paused, probably surprised by my answer. Usually, I was silent. “Alright then, remember to come next time.” She smiled and walked to her desk. I watched her back, a faint smile playing on my lips. Next time? There wouldn’t be a next time. 4 Wednesday afternoon, a notice was posted in the company-wide chat. “Notice regarding Employee Satisfaction Survey and Work Feedback Collection. This Friday, at 3 PM, the Human Resources Department will conduct a session in the third-floor conference room…” I scrolled down and saw a line of text. “For any work-related issues or suggestions, written materials can be submitted to the HR office in advance.” I stared at that line for a long time. “Alice, what are you spacing out about?” Lily walked over with her water bottle, curiously peeking at my screen. “Nothing.” I closed the page. “Oh, by the way, Alice,” she lowered her voice. “About that proposal… are you really not going to say anything?” I looked at her young face, suddenly remembering myself two years ago. Fresh out of university, full of vigor, believing that effort would always be rewarded. “Lily, you know,” I said softly, “some things, saying them doesn’t always help.” “Why?” “Because even if you say them, no one believes you.” She fell silent. “But… that’s not fair.” “Where is anything fair in the workplace?” I smiled. “You’re new. You’ll get used to it.” She lowered her head, saying nothing more. I patted her shoulder and continued working. At five-thirty, I left work right on time. As I reached the elevator, I heard someone call my name from behind. “Alice, wait up.” It was Mr. Davies. I stopped, turned. “Mr. Davies, can I help you?” He hurried over, lowering his voice. “We have a client visit tomorrow afternoon. Could you organize the [Brand Name] proposal again? I need to present it to them.” “Of course.” “Oh, right,” he paused, “that proposal… it was really well done.” My heart stirred. I looked up at him. His expression was a little complex, as if he wanted to say something but held back. “Thank you, Mr. Davies.” “Hm, you should head home early.” He turned and left. I stood there, watching his retreating back, and a thought suddenly occurred to me. He knew. He knew who wrote that proposal. But he didn’t say anything. Why? I didn’t know. But it didn’t matter. What mattered was that I knew. 5 Thursday evening, I was at home organizing the files on my USB drive. Project document revision histories, transaction screenshots, group chat records—all printed out and bound into a booklet. Eighty-seven pages in total. This was my “accomplishment” of the past two years. And my humiliation. I looked at the stack of papers, suddenly remembering something. Last year, at the department’s annual party, during the raffle, I won an air fryer. Charlotte smiled and said, “Oh, Alice, you’re so lucky! My air fryer just broke. Do you even need one?” I said I did. She said, “Well, you can take it for now, but if you don’t need it later, give it to me, okay?” The next day, that air fryer appeared in her kitchen. She posted a picture on her social media: “First meal in my new air fryer, fried chicken wings!” I liked the post. And the mid-autumn festival the year before last, the company gave out gift boxes of mooncakes. Charlotte said, “Alice, can you eat all of these by yourself? How about you give me two boxes?” I gave them to her. And last winter, the company issued down jackets. Charlotte said, “Alice, that size is too big for you, but it’s perfect for me. Should we swap?” I swapped. That “too big” down jacket fit me perfectly. That “perfect” down jacket, she wore all winter. What was I thinking back then? I thought: Never mind, it’s just minor stuff. Why bother squabbling with colleagues over these things? I thought: She’s a senior employee, I’m new, I should be accommodating. I thought: As long as I’m agreeable, they’ll like me. But what was the result? The more agreeable I was, the more they took advantage. The more I tolerated, the more they treated me like a pushover. I stared at the stack of documents, my eyes stinging. Not from hurt. From hate. Hate for myself. My phone rang. It was my mother. “Honey, are you coming home for Christmas?” “Yes, Mom.” “How many days can you stay this year?” I paused. “Mom, I might be staying a bit longer this year.” “What’s wrong?” “Nothing, just… feeling homesick.” I hung up the phone and shoved the stack of documents into my backpack. Tomorrow, Friday. Employee satisfaction survey day. And my judgment day. 6 At 2:50 PM on Friday, I walked into the third-floor conference room with my backpack. Ms. Jenkins, HR, was already there, looking a little surprised to see me. “Alice? You’re early?” “Hello, Ms. Jenkins. I have something I’d like to give you in advance.” I pulled the stack of documents from my backpack and placed them before her. “What is this?” “You’ll see.” She opened the first page, intrigued. It was a project ownership summary. On the left was the project name, in the middle the actual writer, on the right the credited person. Thirty projects, thirty names. The “actual writer” column was entirely “Alice.” The “credited person” column was entirely “Charlotte.” Ms. Jenkins’ expression changed. She continued to flip pages. The second section contained screenshots of the project management system’s revision history, clear as day, in black and white. Every document’s creator was “Alice,” every revision log showed “Alice” pulling all-nighters. Charlotte’s name only appeared in the final submission records. “This…” Ms. Jenkins looked up. “Is this real?” “System records can’t be faked.” She continued to flip. The third section was transaction records. Twenty-three transfers, totaling $9,176. Each entry was marked with a date and amount, accompanied by corresponding team-building group chat records. “And what’s this?” “The bill-splitting for department team-building events,” I said. “Two years and three months, twenty-three team-building events. I was never once notified, but I paid every single time.” Ms. Jenkins’ brow furrowed even deeper. “They… didn’t invite you?” “No. They posted announcements in the group, but never told me the specific time or location. And when I asked, no one replied.” “Then the money…” “They collected it anyway.” I smiled. “Charlotte said that splitting the bill means everyone contributes. If I don’t come, that’s my business; they can’t expect others to pay more.” Ms. Jenkins fell silent. After a moment, she asked, “How do you want to handle this?” “I want justice,” I said, looking into her eyes. “My contributions should be returned to me; my money should be refunded; and an apology should be given.” “What if they deny it?” “The evidence is all here,” I said, pointing to the stack of documents. “Whether they admit it or not doesn’t matter.” The door opened, and people started to trickle in. I saw Charlotte at the front, still smiling. Seeing me, she paused. “Alice? Why are you here so early too?” “Employee satisfaction survey, I’m an employee too.” “Oh,” she smiled. “I thought you didn’t participate in these kinds of activities.” “I didn’t used to,” I smiled back, “today’s an exception.” She seemed to sense something, her expression momentarily faltering. But it quickly recovered. “Alright then, let’s do this together.” She sat down beside me. Ms. Jenkins cleared her throat. “Alright, everyone’s here, let’s begin.” “Excuse me, could you wait a moment?” I raised my hand. “What is it?” “I have something I’d like to say in front of everyone.” The room fell silent. Charlotte turned to look at me, a flicker of wariness in her eyes. “What’s wrong?” I stood up, picked up the stack of documents, and walked to the projector. “It’s like this,” I said, turning on the projector, “I’d like to show everyone something.”

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