Author: Momo Chan

Five years ago, Julian Chen asked me if I wanted to go with him, and I did. I’ve always been clear-headed about the fact that there was no love between us. He needed a wife, and I needed money. I played the role of a wife diligently, squandering his money recklessly, asking if it pained him. He was wealthy enough to just smile and say: ask him for more if it wasn’t enough. Five years into our marriage, Julian Chen died. Great. No one to nag me about smoking and drinking anymore. I could take the money he left me and freely find young guys to enjoy life. Three days after Julian died, I received a letter from five years ago. The first sentence of the letter read: [To my wife.] 1 As soon as Julian died, I partied in the club for three days straight. Expensive bottles of wine worth tens or hundreds of thousands were opened on a whim, and male models lined up for me to choose. When I was tired of playing and went home, Julian’s lawyer handed me a letter. “This is the letter Mr. Chen left for you. According to the will, you are the sole heir to all his property.” My eyes widened in surprise. Oh my god. Was Julian crazy? I had only been married to him for five years, didn’t even have a child, and he gave me all his money. “Are you sure you read it right?” The lawyer nodded: “President Chen drafted the will himself, there can be no mistake.” Then Julian must have lost his mind. I couldn’t suppress the corners of my mouth, overwhelmed by immense joy, momentarily forgetting the letter he left me. Regarding Julian leaving all his money to me, his relatives were the most dissatisfied. When Julian died, they lay by the hospital bed crying their hearts out. Didn’t expect that after all that effort, they didn’t get a penny in the end. Julian’s parents died when he was young, and I was the only heir. The relatives came to make a scene, looking ferocious, trying to force me to split the money equally. Anyway, I used to mix in society, what kind of people haven’t I seen? Could they be more rascally than me? I was Julian’s wife for five years, this money is what I deserve. Trying to gouge money out of my hands is simply wishful thinking. I crossed my arms, leaned against the door, and watched them bark like dogs with a mocking smile. “Want money? Sure. Julian and I happened to have no children. Whoever kneels and calls me mom, I’ll give the child’s share to you.” A group of people whose ages added up to hundreds of years. Every one of them an elder. They were red-faced with anger, pointing at my nose and cursing. “You cheap slut from the gutter! Julian just died and you’re taking his money to find men, you’ll get karma!” I smiled indifferently: “Uncle, do you understand ‘seize the day’?” The dead are gone, shouldn’t the living live well? Besides, Julian and I had no feelings for each other. I married him just for money. He died and I got so much money for nothing, I’d wake up laughing even in my sleep. In life, the most important thing is money, everything else is bullshit. 2 After cursing away the pestering relatives, the 6’2″ male model I just added two days ago called me. “Sister, when are you coming to see me? I miss you so much I can’t sleep.” This coquettish tone made my heart flutter. “I have something to do these days, not coming for now.” Transferred a 9999 red packet to him right away, coaxing him with a little money. Hanging up the phone, I sat on the leather sofa drinking red wine, thinking about how to spend this money. So many zeros, even trypophobia would be cured. This is the life I fantasized about before. Money, time, and freedom, no need to live that dark life anymore, eat what I want, buy what I want, with no one controlling me. Aside from other things, I’m quite grateful to Julian. Back then, he met me at a banquet where I sneaked in hoping to hook a sugar daddy, and asked if I wanted to go with him. I asked him why. He smiled and said he needed a wife. Coincidentally, I needed money. Each took what they needed, best of both worlds. Suddenly remembered the letter he left me, didn’t know where I threw it. What could he say? A standard gentle, considerate gentleman without any sharpness, the letter would probably be full of literary stuff. I didn’t care much, even annoyed that he wanted to preach to me in a letter after death. The red wine wasn’t strong enough, and I’ve always been unhappy without alcohol. Got up and went downstairs to find the ice wine I froze. Opening the refrigerator, I saw a sticky note on the fridge wall. [Drink less ice wine, drink less alcohol.] I froze. Remembered, this was written by Julian. He didn’t like me smoking and drinking, said it was bad for health, and accompanied me to quit several times. I always couldn’t persist, telling him recklessly: “Habits formed long ago, can’t change.” Struggling in the murky society, suffered too much, alcohol and nicotine could numb the pain, naturally creating dependency. Even after marrying Julian and becoming a rich wife, I couldn’t change, not elegant enough, not decent enough, not gentle enough. Julian wouldn’t scold me, no contempt in his eyes, gentle as a quilt sunned under the sun. “Good habits can also be formed, I’ll accompany you.” He didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, had no bad habits, interests were gardening, calligraphy, reading, mild and calm, seemed never to get angry. To me, it was boring to the extreme. I like flashy excitement, like all new things, high-profile enough to let everyone know I have money, a life attitude diametrically opposite to Julian. I dressed exaggeratedly, after having money I liked to wear valuable things on me, regardless of whether it looked good or suitable. Some mocked me as a nouveau riche who hadn’t seen the world. I didn’t care, asked Julian if I embarrassed him. He just smiled gently and said: “You are very beautiful.” Just like that, we lived peacefully under one roof for five whole years. 3 Seeing the words on the sticky note, I tutted irritably and slammed the refrigerator door. Trying to control me even after death, so annoying. Lost the mood to drink, I turned and went back upstairs. The room was quiet. The book he used to read every night was still on the bedside table. A thick and heavy book. I said it could be used to press instant noodles, he smiled and said let me try after he finished reading. The letter I didn’t know where I put was pressing on that book. I opened the letter, inside were two thin sheets of paper. Powerful and beautiful handwriting, his handwriting. I’m uneducated, came out to society before finishing high school. To me, writing letters is old-fashioned and outdated, very rustic. But his letter had a faint fragrance, making me less resistant. The lawyer said this letter was written five years ago. Julian instructed him to give it to me when he died. That is to say, he knew he was going to die long ago. Julian prepared this letter right after we got married. What would the letter say? Saying marrying me was just to make do, or asking me to divorce him after he died, not entering his family genealogy in the future, a woman like me would tarnish his reputation. If he was really afraid I would tarnish him, why marry me in the first place? Just thinking about it made me angry. I sneered mockingly, wanting to see what bullshit this dead man wanted to explain. The first sentence of the letter: [To my wife.] 4 When I was young, my family favored boys over girls. My parents’ incompetence created my pain. To support the little prince at home, I was kicked out of the house at fourteen to work illegally. From a young age, I realized no one loved me. To get my parents’ approval, I sent all the money I earned home, leaving only enough for food and clothing. Returning home for the New Year, parents were unusually enthusiastic and gentle. I was secretly happy, as happy as a child getting a desired toy. New Year’s Eve, after dinner, they told me not to go out to work this year, found me a good family, giving a betrothal gift of 100,000. That man was twenty years older than me, had two dead wives, and was disabled. No parents would push their child into a fire pit. So I packed my things in the middle of the night, admitted the fact that my parents didn’t love me, took my few luggage, stole money from home and ran away. I did many jobs, decent and indecent. As long as I could earn money to live, it didn’t matter what I did. At twenty, I met a man. He was considerate, bought me flowers, cakes, and dresses, took me for rides by the river on his electric scooter. The river wind was wet and cold, but my heart was warm. A man working on construction sites also had a warm and gentle heart. He didn’t disdain my background, felt sorry for my experiences. He was different from everyone else. I fell into his love lies unable to extricate myself. Until he gambled and drank, beat me black and blue, then robbed my money and ran away. Only then did I clearly realize that no one in this world would love me. I was abandoned garbage, a fly. Love meant nothing to me. I didn’t want love anymore, I wanted lots and lots of money. I was kept as a mistress, worked as a bar hostess, chat streamer, did everything except being a homewrecker and breaking the law. Saved quite a bit of money those years. Later met a kid, couldn’t afford school begging on the street. I softened and gave him a hundred bucks. Then that night I was targeted by his accomplices, home invasion robbery, almost died. I asked him why. The kid said others gave one or five, only I gave a hundred, must be rich. When the cold knife was against my neck, I swore, as long as I could live, I would be a bad woman, mean, vicious, selfish, low, cold.

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Famous singer Xander Xi was photographed with a tattoo on his lower abdomen. The media questioned his chaotic personal life and subsequently dug up his bad ex-girlfriend. Fortunately, the picture was blurry, so it couldn’t be seen that it was me. A tattoo is nothing. He still has the piercing I gave him on his chest. It’s just hidden well, so no one found out. 1 I dated Xander Xi for a while. I occupied his wildest days. Unfortunately, he met me during my poorest days. If he used the skills he served me with to hook up with a rich woman, he would definitely become wealthy. I lived a life of drunkenness and dreams with him in a rental apartment for four years. One summer day, hearing the broadcast from the nearby university again, I suddenly woke up. He just graduated and has a very long future ahead. Xander turned over sleepily. One hand pulled me into his arms, the other naturally slipped into my clothes. Usually, this would be another big battle. I was still dizzy from the hangover and didn’t move. Last night he said the audio he recorded went viral online. A talent agency contacted him, hoping to collaborate. I spent all the money in my bank card to buy the best cigarettes and alcohol to congratulate him. Xander doesn’t smoke or drink. Neither do I. But for some reason, I just couldn’t help lighting one after another. Xander was probably scared. He frowned, hugging me carefully. “Do you not want me to sign? If you’re unwilling, I won’t go tomorrow.” I didn’t speak, held his face, and passed the smoke into his mouth. The sweet mint flavor spread, and his eyes widened. He choked badly, and the reaction came strongly too. Young man, full of vigor. The sunlight shone through the curtains, casting a line, a bit dazzling. I stroked his face and looked carefully for a long time. That afternoon when he went to interview with the talent agency, I handled everything. Adults are good at leaving without saying goodbye. In the first three months of leaving, many people messaged me. Saying Xander was looking for me everywhere, asking all old friends. Some even forwarded pictures to me, saying he was partying well, but cried when he smelled someone smoking mint cigarettes. I quietly followed his media account. Rarely released songs, no signing agency. But the popularity still rose day by day. Scrolling every day, I could see enthusiastic new fans showing up in the comments section every day. Praising the distinctiveness of his voice, urging for new songs in various ways. I listened again and again, thinking the praise was right. In the sixth month of separation, I rarely thought of him. But he started appearing more and more in my life. Xander’s songs became popular. No matter which street I walked on, I seemed to hear the familiar voice around the corner. Headache-inducing. Fortunately, friends accepted the news of our separation and stopped mentioning the past to me. But the quiet time didn’t last long. Less than two years later, messages from old friends became dense again. This time, the words carried regret. “If you were still with him, you’d be a somebody now.” “You closed the piercing shop? What are you doing now?” “Seen the hot search? Xander entered the top charts.” Xander signed with the biggest agency, Skyhigh Entertainment, and completed his debut with three hit songs. At that time, I was drawing frantically in my rental apartment. Drafts piled up on the table, all abandoned halfway. Exhausted, I received a sum of money. It was hush money from Skyhigh Entertainment, asking me never to mention my past with Xander. I agreed readily. Involuntarily, I clicked on Xander’s song. Voice is the most primitive spell. Clearly hadn’t seen him for a long time, but that face appeared in my mind uncontrollably. I had inspiration. This tattoo design was what I thought suitable when I first met him. Spent five days refining the design to the end. The client was very satisfied. Said the artist liked the design very much, fitting the music style quite well. Paid double the remuneration. Switching from piercing to tattooing, this was my first step. 2 Relying on this design, I gained fame. Many singers following the trendy hip-hop route came to me for custom tattoos. I made a name for myself. First producing designs online, traveling between cities. Knowing more and more peers, reached cooperation with equally capable tattoo artists. Took over a shop, carried a mortgage. The shop became more and more regular, and the guests received were more and more willing to spend money. I dedicated myself to daily necessities, deliberately forgetting the past. Every night, I thanked the client who commissioned me that day. Until today. Seeing the tattoo on Xander’s waist, I suddenly realized. The design guided by fate returned to its owner at a moment I never imagined. My colleague’s guest hasn’t arrived yet. She scrolled the screen, three trending topics related to Xander. “No response, could Xander still be dating that hoodlum girl?” Jen Yuan said casually, “Dug for so long and only got such blurry pictures, are these music people so tight-lipped?” Logically speaking, having blurry pictures is rare. Skyhigh’s PR and methods of suppressing public opinion have saved countless tainted artists. Many people knew about Xander and me back then, yet not a single revelation till now. I lowered my head, disinfecting instruments. “Unlikely,” I said, “He’s so popular, must have broken up long ago.” “True. Probably reporters are holding clear photos waiting for a price. But he’s not an idol, dating is fine.” Jen slumped back on the sofa and said, “I have a guest later, don’t know if a big influencer or artist, they requested clearing the place.” I responded, “Okay. I’ll leave after cleaning up.” Cleaning is a very mechanical job. The studio has complete disinfection facilities, some work still needs to be done slowly by people. I like doing these things. No brain needed, sufficient excuse to relax my mind. Marketing accounts’ voices never ceased in my ears. I took off my gloves and clicked on Xander’s hot search like possessed. It was a concert video. Water curtain on stage soaked clothes, when Xander raised his hand, the soaked white shirt moved up three inches. Screams were ear-piercing, I turned off the sound. Frame by frame closer, freezing on a dark color on his tough waist. Perfect work. I spaced out for a while, awakened by knocking. Bad. Guest arrived so fast. I put on a mask, hurriedly grabbed my bag to leave. Several bodyguards blocked the way. I sidestepped, apologizing repeatedly. “Sorry, please excuse me.” No one moved. I looked up, slightly stunned. Realizing my eyes were dry, I mocked myself thinking: If I were a K-drama heroine, I should be tearful and speechless now. But I didn’t even have much fluctuation, just my heart beat hard once. Intellect as usual, emotion as usual. Reaction fast enough that even when he reached out to untie my mask, I dodged extremely sensitively. Xander’s hand stopped in mid-air, looking at me with lowered eyelids. Then turned his face away, swallowed. I said, “Long time no…” He bumped straight past me, walking into the studio. Shoulder aching faintly, I silenced for a long time, closed the door. Funny to say, in four years of love, I haven’t seen him throw a tantrum much. Generally such people, I call used to bad luck. Used to bad luck, emotions are stable. But Xander is the opposite. He is smooth enough to make people speechless. Scratching a few lottery tickets casually can win a few hundred bucks. Perhaps the unluckiest thing in his life was meeting me. 3 When we first met, he was about eighteen or nineteen. I opened a piercing shop near the university town in Hancheng District. Storefront not big. Studio outside, bedroom inside. Couldn’t call it a proper job, just muddling along. Not many customers for piercing, most just curious. Hesitating at the door for a long time before daring to come in and ask a few questions. Few came many times, got familiar with me, then gritted teeth and got an ear piercing. Most chatted a few sentences and never came again. Xander was the most exceptional. Summer is rainy. Dark clouds gathered, wind and sand rolled up, rain rustled, smell of dust on the ground. Vision instantly blurred by rain curtain, I estimated no more customers. Just reaching out to pull down the shutter, someone broke in. Wiping face, shaking head vigorously. A beautiful German Shepherd soaked by rain, this was my first impression of him. “Boss Yu.” He accurately called my name, holding up his phone for me to see. “Heard from friends, your place is good.” What exactly was good, I didn’t quite understand. After all, since opening, piercing customers were few, but many came to drink tea and chat with me. “I want to work part-time, do you need people?” His expression was steady, as if he could calmly say okay even if rejected. I smiled, “Sorry, can’t afford employees.” He wiped his face again, water beads rolling down hair to chin. “Then give me a piercing.” I looked up from the book, sweeping over his face. Flat eyebrows sharp eyes, broken hair cut very casually. Maybe because of youth, facial lines still slightly blunt. Not a very well-behaved look, but didn’t have the stray dog temperament of people like us. Not mocking. Those coming to me for piercing, male or female, were always rebellious and seemingly homeless, poor with only freedom left. Xander obviously didn’t belong to this category. “Okay.” I didn’t ask much, “Where do you want it?” He thought for a while, didn’t speak, took off the soaked black T-shirt. I whistled low. Couldn’t tell, playing contrast. I moved my gaze away, trying to look at his face while speaking. “Not everyone is suitable for piercing, need to confirm conditions. If possible, you pick the stud you like.” Talked a lot about precautions. Whatever I said, he just nodded. I sighed, pointing to the bathroom inside. “Forget it, go take a shower first.” Soaking wet, don’t dirty my work bed later. He hesitated, brows furrowed tightly. “Is it inappropriate?” “…” I rubbed my head, “Don’t overthink. Disposable items are inside, go.” Although said so. When he undressed and lay on the work bed, I still overthought. Skin smoked by steam泛ing pink. Exposed to air, uncontrollably tightened. “Piercing here will hurt a lot.” I said, “Newbie, better change a place.” He didn’t speak. Red from neck to face, grabbed a pillow pressing on face. Rain outside heavier. Smashing on shutter door, clattering ceaselessly. I bent down preparing to disinfect, every touch of cotton swab made him tremble three times more. Heat after shower faded, chest gradually turned white. Glaze-like skin color, clean. I moved the pillow on his face away. 4 “Don’t cover face, look at mirror.” I held him down, marking points, “Style and position, you confirm.” He was red-faced, suddenly grabbed my wrist. “You…” He closed eyes tight, “You stay away a bit, I’m ticklish.” I pulled up mask, confirming breath wouldn’t fall on him. He looked briefly, then decided the final effect. When penetrating skin, he suddenly arched his back. I let out the first loud laugh today. Should let the chick see what pain is. “Done, you have one more chance to choose. That side, do or not?” Xander curled up, panting heavily. I patiently changed needle, waited for a long while. He was full of cold sweat, shook head weakly. I was quick-eyed and quick-handed, blocking his hand touching the wound. “Can’t touch, haven’t put on gauze yet. Remember, no water before healing, spray saline frequently. Come to me if problems, I offer after-sales service here.” “After-sales service…?” He opened eyes, breathing rapidly, “What after-sales.” I wanted to laugh thinking what I was going to say. “Of course it is,” I kept a straight face, “Pierce you again.” Xander’s tense waist completely broke. Leaning back on bed, hissing hoarsely. Young man’s redness represents everything. I wrapped gauze while laughing, kindly waived his bill. “Leave when rain stops.” I took off gloves, “Otherwise inflammation when back, pain is killing.” Result rain poured all night. I took out remaining beer and dishes, cooked a hasty meal. Xander clinked glasses with me with pale face, looking like dead. Thought he would come to remove it soon, didn’t expect he really kept it, healed. Because of that stud, he became a regular at my shop. Got familiar, mentioned first meeting. He leaned on recliner watching shop for me, asked me abruptly. “You alone here, won’t it be dangerous?” I buried head in front of computer, answered casually, “Why dangerous?” “Here… many male customers right.” He turned back, “You have no vigilance at all.” Such question usually no one asks. Struggling in society for years, always have some ways. I teased him deliberately. “Doing this line, where are good people?” He took it seriously, pulled my computer chair in front, looked up for a long while. “Earning food with own hands, is good person.” I was speechless. Thought for a long time, had to say: “Indeed students are easy to fool. Go back to school quickly, don’t you have major class in afternoon?” He nodded and left. Not long after turned back, carrying several portions of cut fruits. “Saw on road, quite fresh, you eat.” I paused for a moment, forked a piece of thin cut orange. Refreshing sour taste. Ate all, I pressed chest, felt maybe I was easier to fool. Heartbeat is matter of course. Although only three points. But discovered by Xander, he could climb up, forcing to hand over seven points. Day window paper poked broken, I just advised him not to conflict with people.

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The system tasked me with winning the heart of the male lead. Just as I placed a love letter on the male lead’s desk, I was targeted by the crazy female secondary character who had a secret crush on him. To save my life, I lied: “I put it in the wrong place. It’s for his deskmate.” Then I watched her throw the letter to the person behind her: “Brother, this is for you.” … From then on, she stopped pursuing the male lead and taught me how to chase her brother every day. 1 I transmigrated into a book. Into a angst novel I just finished reading. When I woke up in a strange bed, I hadn’t realized the seriousness of the situation. Until a mechanical voice sounded in my head, telling me that my life in the 3D world had ended, and I could live in this world by completing the capture mission. Only then did I suddenly remember that my last memory was indeed being hit by a speeding car. “Liam Song is the male lead of this world. The host’s task is to capture the male lead’s heart and live a happy life with him to support the existence of this world.” The cold mechanical voice announced my mission quickly after telling me some situations of this world. What shocked me was not the existence of such a world, but that this world was exactly the same as the angst novel I just finished reading. The reason for capturing Liam Song is that Liam Song will eventually die for the female lead. If Liam Song dies, this world will cease to exist. But having read the whole book, I know deeply how much Liam Song loves the female lead. The system seemed to know my doubts: “It is currently the first semester of Liam Song’s senior year. The female lead, Grace Gu, has not appeared yet.” That is indeed a bit simpler. And having just finished reading the novel, I knew very well how Grace Gu opened Liam Song’s cold heart. I just need to learn to do it before Grace Gu arrives. Thinking of this, I happily reached a deal with the system. “The host’s current identity is a junior high school student named Hannah Ye, with a happy family and excellent grades…” Hannah Ye seemed to be me in another world. I hardly needed to adapt to this role. After attending classes at school for two days, I decided to start working. When I put a love letter into Liam Song’s desk, I completely forgot that there was also a crazy and vicious female secondary character in this novel. So when Bella Pei blocked me in the alley with that love letter, I was dumbfounded. “Is this the love letter you wrote to Liam Song?” Bella Pei forced me into a corner, looking at me with very unfriendly eyes. I looked at the love letter in her hand and swallowed. If I admit it now, I will definitely be the one suffering from school bullying tomorrow. I shook my head and talked nonsense: “Huh? No! I put it in the wrong place. It was for his deskmate.” Bella Pei obviously didn’t expect me to say this, and froze on the spot. Just when I was about to laugh dryly to end this embarrassment, she suddenly turned around and threw the letter to the person approaching. “Brother, this is for you.” ??? 2 Bella Pei’s brother is named Ryan Pei. Although the author only mentioned this person briefly, I clearly remember that he has a moody personality and is very hard to mess with. Ryan Pei caught the letter thrown at him, and threw it into the trash can next to him without even looking at it. He looked up at me. His eyes were gloomy. They were obviously very beautiful eyes, but they seemed to have no light at all. He and Liam Song seemed to be people from two different worlds. Liam Song looked cold but full of righteousness, while just one look at Ryan Pei would make you understand that he was a person from the abyss. I shivered all over from this look. Ryan Pei sneered, stepped forward to pick up Bella Pei’s schoolbag: “Go home.” Bella Pei pulled the strap of her schoolbag, a bit unconvinced, but still turned around and walked out of the alley following his steps. But she didn’t take two steps before turning back to look at me. “Do you really like my brother?” I looked at Bella Pei walking in front of her and swallowed. Dare not like. But dare not dislike either. I pretended to be shy and neither nodded nor shook my head. Before she could speak again, Ryan Pei pulled her schoolbag and dragged her to disappear at the entrance of the alley. Only then did I breathe a sigh of relief. These two Pei siblings are the villains in the novel, and Bella Pei is the person who directly affects Liam Song’s ending. I lay on the bed, thinking over and over again, but couldn’t think of any way to avoid them. After a sleepless night, I went to school with dark circles under my eyes. What I never expected was that Bella Pei would actually come to my class to find me. She appeared at the window with a large group of people, and shouted loudly to me who was dozing by the window: “Hello, sister-in-law.” Scared me so much that my hand supporting my head slipped, and my whole head hit the table. As soon as I looked up, she leaned over with a grin: “Does it hurt?” I was confused. Seeing no reaction from me, she turned back to the people behind her and said: “Why don’t you call sister-in-law? No manners.” I blinked, unable to believe everything in front of me. And the people behind her also said in unison: “Hello, sister-in-law.” Deafening. I could feel the shock of the classmates in the class without looking back. After all, I was even more shocked than them. 3 Bella Pei is sick. Now the whole world knows that I like Ryan Pei, and Ryan Pei doesn’t like me. Because just this morning, when Bella Pei brought a large group of people to call me sister-in-law, Ryan Pei passed by my window. Hearing Bella Pei call me sister-in-law, he frowned slightly and said coldly: “She doesn’t deserve it.” Heaven knows I was about to explode when I heard these words. What made me explode even more was that Liam Song also heard it. He stood not far away and rarely looked up at me. Thanks to Ryan Pei, before I could even speak to Liam Song, Liam Song knew me. Although the situation is already very ugly. But I still have to continue to complete the task. When I finally found out that Liam Song would go to play basketball in the afternoon, I decided to grit my teeth and move forward again. When I bought water and ran to the basketball court, the basketball game had already started. I hid among all the girls, watching the people on the court. Just when I was about to shout “Go Liam Song” with the girls, I saw Ryan Pei. He raised his hand and threw a ball casually into the basket, scored a three-pointer, and suddenly looked up at me. The words “Liam Song” got stuck in my throat. Wait. Why is someone like Ryan Pei also playing basketball? “Supporting characters also have their own hobbies and lives.” The system, which had disappeared for two days, suddenly answered me coldly. “You finally appeared. You don’t know how miserable I have been these two days.” “Defeating the female secondary character and being with the male lead was originally a part of your mission.” … How to defeat? Even the original female lead died at the hands of these two siblings. How can I defeat them! Just as I was trying to reason with the system, Bella Pei also squeezed in from the crowd. As soon as she saw me, her eyes lit up. Scared. Really scared. “Sister-in-law!” She squeezed to my side and winked at me, “Are you here to cheer for my brother?” I… Before I could speak, a whistle sounded on the court. Halftime break. “Brother, sister-in-law brought you water.” Bella Pei pushed me forward. Oh god! Why is my fate so rough! Holding the water in my hand, I stood stiffly in place. Watching Ryan Pei walk towards me step by step. He walked up to me and looked down at me. Making my scalp numb. So I raised the water in my hand and said to him as if facing death: “For you.” Then the bottle of water that I originally intended to give to Liam Song was neatly thrown into the trash can by Ryan Pei. I thank his ancestors for eight generations. 4 “Sister-in-law, don’t be discouraged. I think my brother will definitely fall in love with you. I recognize you as my sister-in-law.” On the way home from school, Bella Pei walked beside me to comfort me. I looked up at her. Quite a good-looking girl, why is she like this? “I thank you.” I pulled the corner of my mouth, “But can you not call me sister-in-law?” I really can’t bear it. “Why?” “Because the impact is bad. Puppy love will be notified and punished.” I sighed, “Just call me Hannah.” Hearing this, she frowned. Seeing her frown, it was as if I saw my tragic future. But before I could change my words, she said: “Okay.” “Hannah, we will be family from now on.” She held my arm affectionately and leaned into my ear mysteriously, “I’ll tell you a secret.” “I like Liam Song.” Big sister, what kind of secret is this? I pretended to suddenly realize, as if waking up from a dream: “Huh? Really?” “Really. In the future, I help you chase my brother, and you help me chase Liam Song, how about it?” … System, look for yourself, what kind of suggestion is this? “I think it’s pretty good. This way you can openly contact Liam Song.” Hmm? Why didn’t I think of that. “Okay, then I’ll help you chase Liam Song first.” I agreed. From then on, Bella Pei became my best “friend”. We went to school together and left school together. Watching Liam Song receive one love letter after another together. “Calm down, you must calm down.” I held Bella Pei’s fist. Just then, Ryan Pei, who came back from PE class, was also stopped by a girl. The girl blushed and stuffed a love letter into his hand, turned and ran. Ryan Pei is very good-looking. Even though his whole body exudes an aura of “get away from me”, it can’t cover up that kind of good looks. It’s actually not strange for girls to send love letters. Bella Pei put her hand on mine backhand and patted my hand: “Don’t worry, my brother will only be yours.” Because he’s mine, I’m worried! “No, we can’t just wait like this. Come to my house after school today, let’s plan properly.” As soon as the school bell rang, Bella Pei came to take me to her house. Twenty minutes later, I stood outside a large villa, shocked. The novel said they were rich, but I didn’t know they were this rich. The old woman who opened the door was dumbfounded when she saw me. After reacting, she quickly took the schoolbags from Bella Pei and me. She walked behind me, grinning from ear to ear: “This is the first time Miss has brought a friend home.” Why does this sentence sound so familiar…

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After a car accident, my memory stopped at eighteen. When I woke up, I happened to catch Julian Xu passionately kissing my sister. I found it interesting, snapped a photo, and sent it to the family group chat. My sister saw it and ordered me to delete it. I laughed heartlessly: “Hehe, brother-in-law is so handsome, why are you hiding him, sis?” Julian Xu froze: “What did you call me…” “Brother-in-law? I’m your fiancé.” 1 In my sleep, I heard the sound of passionate kissing. Annoyed by the noise, I reluctantly opened my eyes, only to see my sister straddling a man. The two were kissing inextricably, completely disregarding me lying next to them, making ambiguous noises continuously. I sobered up instantly, eyes wide open. No way, my pure and lovely innocent sister actually has such a wild side. After seeing the man’s face clearly, I couldn’t help but sigh that she eats really well. I picked up my phone and snapped photos fiercely, thinking of sending them to her later. But damn it, I forgot to turn off the flash. Startled by the sudden bright light, both of them looked towards me. Zoe Ye cursed first: “Luna Ye, are you crazy? Playing ghost to scare who?” … Julian Xu frowned and pushed Zoe away, tidied up his messy clothes, and strode towards me. “Since you’re awake, hurry up and come back with me.” Saying this, he reached out to hold my hand. Don’t know why, as soon as he approached me, my heart felt stifled. Almost instinctively, I dodged his touch. Thinking who this person was, someone pushed the door open. The person who came was none other than my mother. My mom sat by the bed, crying with snot and tears: “How could you get into a car accident when you were fine? Fortunately, Julian sent you to the hospital in time. If anything happened to you, mom wouldn’t want to live anymore.” The lust in Julian’s eyes had faded. At this moment, he looked like a modest gentleman: “Auntie, this is what I should do.” My mom nodded with satisfaction. Seeing me indifferent, my mom winked at me. I immediately understood, got out of bed and bowed a standard 90 degrees to Julian, shouting loudly: “Thank you, brother-in-law, for saving my life. In the future, I will treat you like my own brother.” Julian’s face turned black instantly, speechless for a long time. A cold wind blew, I couldn’t help shivering, and rolled back into the hospital bed nimbly. Continued to say smilingly: “Brother-in-law won’t blame me, a patient, right? I’m a patient now, can’t stand the cold.” Julian froze: “What did you call me…” Every time I called him brother-in-law, Julian’s face sank a bit more. My mom was so scared she covered my mouth: “Damn child, what nonsense are you shouting?” Zoe, who had been standing silently beside, suddenly panicked too. “Luna, stop talking nonsense. If you talk nonsense again, Julian will be angry. Have you forgotten the consequences of making him angry last time?” I don’t understand, why would he be angry? And why can’t I make him angry? What consequences can there be for making him angry? They are all so weird. Instead, Julian said without changing his expression: “What trick are you playing again? I’m not in the mood to play with you here.” My mom looked at Julian nervously and apologized to him: “Julian, don’t lower yourself to Luna’s level. She might just be throwing a tantrum with you. Coax her, she will definitely go with you immediately. Never get angry with her.” What my mom said left me confused. Under my mom’s persuasion, Julian’s attitude softened: “It’s my fault this time. Be good, come home with me.” Saying this, he reached out to brush away the broken hair on my forehead. My mom looked at us with relief. Zoe behind seemed to have poison in her eyes. Meeting her gaze, I sobered up instantly, leaned back, didn’t sit firmly, borrowed force to kick Julian’s chest to avoid hitting my head. Julian was kicked to the ground by me, his waist hitting a sharp point, almost unable to straighten up for a moment. The distress in Zoe’s eyes was about to overflow: “Luna, are you crazy!” My mom ignored Julian and stepped forward to check my body. “Baby, let mom see, are you hurt?” Zoe complained: “Mom, look at her, does she look hurt at all? I think she’s faking it.” Julian also completely lost patience: “Luna, it seems you still haven’t learned your lesson. If I come to see you again, I’m a dog!” 2 Since childhood, I haven’t been pointed at and scolded like this. I can’t swallow this breath. I jumped up from the hospital bed and gave him a downward chop directly. Black belt in Taekwondo is not practiced for nothing. “Who wanted you to come? Aren’t you my sister’s boyfriend? What, still want to play the game of taking both sisters?” My mom turned pale with fright and hurriedly dialed my dad’s number. “Husband, come quickly, our daughter is silly.” My dad, who was paying the bill, rushed into the ward with the doctor in a panic. A crowd of people surrounded me, examining me carefully. The conclusion obtained was – brain knocked into amnesia. After hearing this diagnosis, my parents actually laughed out loud. Hurriedly asked the doctor: “What is the probability of not recovering memory?” The doctor was stunned. Generally, parents ask about the probability of recovering memory. Parents asking about the probability of not recovering memory, mine are probably the first. “About twenty percent. “There is only a slight blood clot in the patient’s brain. When the blood clot dissipates, she should be able to remember.” My parents instantly deflated like leaked balls, becoming listless. Hearing the doctor’s diagnosis, Julian sneered: “Amnesia? Thanks for thinking of it. Don’t think I can like you like this.” The picture of him passionately kissing my sister flashed in my mind. I couldn’t help shivering. “Don’t worry, brother-in-law, I’m not interested in married men.” Julian froze, then gritted his teeth: “Brother-in-law? I’m your fiancé!” Seeing this, my mom kept comforting his emotions in a humble posture. It can be seen that my mom is really afraid of him getting angry with me. My dad also started to scold me: “What nonsense, your sister has a boyfriend, relatives and friends have seen him. Saying this is bad for your sister’s reputation.” I couldn’t bear it anymore, blurted out: “Mom and Dad, what I said is true. I even took a photo just now.” My parents looked puzzled, waiting for me to find the photo for them. Zoe came over to snatch my phone at this time. “Luna, haven’t you played enough of this slanderous trick? “Aren’t you afraid Julian will hate you more?” I turned slightly, letting her pounce on nothing. She still didn’t give up, pressing me directly onto the bed. During the struggle, my finger swiped wildly on the screen. After a while, the phones of my parents, my sister, and Julian rang at the same time. At this time, their brows frowned into a “river” character in unison. My dad pulled Zoe away and slapped her: “Beast, he is your sister’s fiancé, how could you do this?” It turned out that during the struggle just now, I accidentally sent the photo to the family group chat. 3 Suddenly, the family group chat became lively. Everyone came online to eat melons (gossip). Chatting one sentence after another. [Big cousin, didn’t see that coming, playing so open privately.] [Holy crap, did I see it wrong? Isn’t this Luna’s fiancé? Why is he gnawing with Zoe?] [No way, big cousin can even seduce her own sister’s boyfriend, truly an ungrateful wolf.] Zoe looked at the scrolling messages on the screen, face flushed for a while, not knowing how to explain, looking helplessly at Julian. But Julian didn’t even give her a look. She pointed the spearhead at me again. “Luna, retract it quickly, do you want to ruin me?” I laughed heartlessly: “Hehe, brother-in-law is so handsome, why are you hiding him, sis? “Look at the photo I took of you two, quite aesthetic. No need to thank me, save it quickly. Isn’t it a beautiful memory to watch together lying in bed when old?” Zoe jumped with anger: “Didn’t you hear mom and dad say? He is your fiancé.” I was amused. “Sis, you are also teasing me with mom and dad. “If he is my fiancé, then why did you kiss together? “Could it be like what uncle said, you screwed my man behind my back?” Zoe didn’t speak. Suddenly her eyes rolled, kneeling in front of my parents: “Just now was a moment of urgency. Julian had an asthma attack. He didn’t bring a ventilator. I was giving him artificial respiration.” “Sister likes him so much, how could I rob him from her? Mom and Dad, believe me.” No way, hand reached into other’s clothes just now, whose family does artificial respiration with French kiss. Blue Sky Lord (Heavens), only fools would believe this. Result my mom asked Julian suspiciously: “Julian, is it like what Zoe said?” Julian hesitated for a moment, nodded. My mom breathed a sigh of relief instantly, muttering to herself: “I knew it, you are not that kind of people.” Okay, my own mom is that fool. My dad’s face was black, wanted to say something more, but was pulled by my mom. My mom signaled with her eyes, shook her head. My dad looked at me deeply, sighed, and eventually didn’t say a word. Their eyes gradually turned red, holding my hand: “Luna, it’s all a misunderstanding. Don’t think too much. Mom and Dad won’t harm you.” I looked at them in confusion. Why do they believe such a clumsy lie? Then they apologized to Julian again: “Luna has amnesia now. Bear with her more. Hope you won’t hurt her again after she recovers her memory.” Heavens, did this person save our whole family’s lives? 4 Mom and Dad played dumb, saying they had something to do and left first. Before leaving, didn’t forget to instruct Julian: “Julian, take good care of Luna. Maybe if you chat more, she will remember.” Zoe was pushed out of the door by them: “Go quickly, don’t disturb them two.” She was full of reluctance, but dared not flare up in front of parents. After the ward door closed, only Julian and I were left in the room. Julian looked at me wordlessly, with scrutiny in his eyes. I was stared at until goosebumps rose, didn’t know what to say, smiled awkwardly at him. He was slightly stunned, with a trace of inquiry in his tone: “Luna, really don’t remember me?” I shook my head. He asked again: “Then what do you remember now?” I lowered my eyelids, thought for a while: “I remember I scored 700 in the college entrance exam, then several famous schools came to my house to snatch me.” Recalling that scene, I giggled foolishly, so much face. But disgust inexplicably rose in Julian’s eyes, saying coldly: “A dog can’t change eating shit. Even with amnesia, you can’t change the bad habit of lying.” I immediately stopped smiling, angry out of nowhere: “Why do you say I lie? Don’t believe it, right? Let’s check now. The score checking system won’t lie to people.” Julian looked like he didn’t want to pay attention to me, and mocked me: “The one who scored 700 is Zoe. You just like to occupy the magpie’s nest (take credit for others).” Just kidding, if Zoe can score 700, I’ll handstand and eat shit. Usually scoring 300, my parents are already happy to bloom, still 700? This kind of insult to intelligence, can’t bear a bit. “Brother-in-law, you can’t invert black and white just because you like my sister, right? “Open the student information network, let you see this girl’s true level.” Julian opened his mouth to refuse me, I didn’t give him a chance at all. Excitedly pulled him to sit on the bed, clicked into the “Student Status and Education” module in front of him. Unknowingly, Julian revealed a shallow smile. At the critical moment, the internet speed stuck, kept spinning on the entering page. I slapped my thigh anxiously. But heard Julian groan in pain, almost gritting his teeth: “Luna!” I smiled sheepishly, just at this time the page refreshed. “Look look, it’s out.” Written clearly on the screen— Luna Ye total score column 700 points. Julian was dumbfounded at once, picked up my phone and refreshed again and again, even suspecting I created a fake website for him. I rolled my eyes: “Is it true or not? Put your own identity information in, won’t you know?” Julian seemed to react, fingertips quickly tapping the 26 keys. After pressing “Confirm”, I obviously felt his nervousness. Next second, his score also appeared on the screen— Julian Xu total score column 692 points. I almost laughed out loud at once: “Hahaha, weak dog, so you were afraid my score is higher than yours.” Julian stared tightly at the screen, talking to himself: “So you didn’t lie to me at that time.” I didn’t understand what he was saying, slapped his thigh again, saying word by word: “Of—course—la!” Julian’s face grimaced, removing my hand: “Speak if you speak, don’t use hands.” I immediately shrunk my hands into sleeves, looking at him pitifully: “Okay okay brother-in-law, wasn’t I too excited?” Julian’s face darkened: “Don’t call me brother-in-law again, I’m your fiancé.” I quickly pushed him off the bed: “Brother-in-law joking again. Although I have amnesia, you don’t look like my type, so don’t lie to me.” This fall seemed quite serious. He fell on the ground and couldn’t get up directly, swaying in pain. I asked guiltily: “Brother-in-law, get up quickly, stop pretending. My sister is not here now, no one here will feel sorry for you.” Seeing the cold sweat on his forehead becoming denser, I realized something was wrong and pressed the call bell by the bed. Finally he was carried away by several nurses on a stretcher. I called my parents weakly: “Mom and Dad, I seem to have caused trouble.”

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After being bullied, my sister slit her wrists and tried to commit suicide. My parents’ hair turned white overnight. The three little beasts grinned and said: “We are minors, the law can’t sentence us. What can you do to me?” I smiled too: “I can make you wish you were dead but unable to die!” 01 I was in class when my mom called. After answering, there was silence for a long time, only intermittent sobbing. I don’t know why, but my heart was beating fast. Finally, my mom gathered enough strength and cried out: “Julian, something happened to your sister!” I asked for leave immediately, didn’t even pack my clothes, and took a taxi to the station. “Mom, I’m coming back now. Don’t worry, tell me what happened first?” My mom was crying and gasping, repeating one sentence over and over: “Your sister was beaten—” I called my sister, but no one answered. Tried my dad, no answer either. My hands were shaking so much I could hardly hold the phone. I entered my sister’s school and her name on Twitter. Saw a video with tens of thousands of views, I clicked it open— A thin girl lay on the ground, protecting her head. Three girls surrounded her, taking turns stepping on her face. After half a minute, one girl said: “Let’s cut this little bitch’s hair, see if she can still be coquettish?” So she squatted down with a grin, grabbed the girl’s hair on the ground, and cut it off with a “snip snip” sound. The girl covering her face curled into a ball, trying to hide her head in her stomach. The three perpetrators got even more excited: “Still fucking dare to hide, huh?!” They cooperated tacitly. One straddled the girl, pressing her arm with knees, forcing her hands open. One was responsible for taking photos. One slapped her face. “Slap slap slap!” At this moment, I finally saw the face of the disheveled girl being beaten. That was my sister. The girl got tired of hitting and signaled to the person taking photos. So I heard an excited voiceover: “My turn! My turn!” She took out a marker and drew a turtle on my sister’s red and swollen face. My sister couldn’t break free and let out bursts of despairing howls. “Why are you like this?” One of the beasts said, “You messed up her clean face, how can she go out and be a whore?” She pulled my sister up and patted the dust off her body. Seemed like she really intended to let her go. My sister clutched the corner of her clothes, standing there at a loss. The next second, she kicked my sister’s back fiercely from behind. My sister fell to the ground, and blood stains appeared on the ground quickly. Then, they rushed up, grabbed my sister’s school uniform, and tore it hard. “Rip—” The comments skyrocketed at this moment. But soon, the video disappeared. “This video has been taken down.” Immediately, that post was gone too. “What’s wrong with you?” The driver looked at me through the rearview mirror, “Are you feeling unwell?” At this time, the taxi entered a tunnel. The car window reflected my red eyes and the bulging veins on my forehead. 02 Neighbors watching the excitement crowded the doorway. I squeezed in and saw my parents sitting on one side of the sofa, with the police in the middle, and a man in a suit and three middle-aged men sitting further out. Presumably the principal and their parents. The three little beasts were in the corner. Two lowered their heads, and the one in the middle sat on my family’s fruit box, playing with her nails boredly. Seeing me come in, she poked her companion, pointed at me, said something unknown, and they laughed together. “I’ll fucking kill you!” I grabbed the kettle casually and rushed over. But was held down immediately. One of the parents even took away my kettle. “Let go! Or I’ll kill you together!!” The little beast in the middle hid behind her father, looking at me with a smile. The policeman came over and patted my back: “Young man, calm down. We are discussing how to solve your family’s problem now. Don’t make things worse.” I threw off the beast parent’s hand: “Okay, how do you plan to solve it?” As soon as I said this, the atmosphere became subtle instantly. Several people looked at each other, exchanging glances. Definitely holding back no good intentions. The principal pulled me aside and put his arm around my shoulder: “Are you Lily’s?” “Brother.” “Oh, it’s like this. The school takes this matter very seriously. We severely criticized Tiffany Wang and the others, and they also promised not to do it again next time. considering they are all first-time offenders, we also hope you…” “What do you mean?” I broke free from his hand, “You want us to just let it go?” Having his inner thoughts exposed by me, the principal looked a bit embarrassed: “Oh, young man. We have suppressed the heat of this matter. You know, if that kind of thing spreads out, it’s bad for Lily. After all, she is a girl…” “So what?” I laughed in extreme anger, “So should our family kneel down and kowtow to you, thanking you for your great kindness? Did you suppress it for Lily, or for these little beasts?” “Young man, you have to consider the overall situation.” “Can’t consider! I only know my sister was bullied!” At this time, a parent sneered: “Don’t you think about why among so many people in the class, only your sister would be treated like this? Maybe she did something shameful. It takes two hands to clap, you know?!” I smashed a fist over, and colors appeared on that middle-aged man’s face immediately: “Holy crap, you fucking dare to hit me!” “I’ll fucking kill you!” I was dizzy with anger, preparing to beat him up when the police held me. “Young man, calm down. If you injure him, you have to pay medical expenses.” Mom also came to pull me. Looking at Mom’s tear-stained face, my heart softened instantly. “Officer, if we follow legal procedures, how many years will these people be sentenced?” The policeman sighed: “I understand your feelings very well, but strictly according to the law, they will at most be detained for a few days and then pay a few thousand dollars. No way, they are still minors.” A few days? A few thousand dollars. My brain exploded with a hum, turned my head and saw a faint smile on the little beast’s mouth corner. Hearing they would be detained, several parents worried about leaving a criminal record in the future, signaling their children with eyes. Three people quickly ran to me, bowing and apologizing. Tiffany Wang held my hand: “Sorry, we know we were wrong, promise not to do it again next time!” Hard object touch in palm, I looked down. She stuffed a bloody hairpin into my hand. Still the one I gave to Lily. A few strands of hair stuck to the hairpin, must have been pulled off Lily’s head forcefully. “Fuck!” Just as I was about to slap her, her dad quickly protected her behind him. “Brother, I’m sorry!” She cried like pear blossoms bathed in rain, “Beat me, as long as you can vent your anger, you can beat me however you want.” She was crying on her face, but her right hand gave me the middle finger below. “I’ll fucking kill you!” “Calm down!” The police stood in the middle again, turning to them and said, “The family is emotional, let’s talk about this next time, you go first!” 03 The house was quiet. It was already past ten at night, but Lily still refused to come out. We guarded in front of Lily’s bedroom door, no one willing to leave. “Mom and Dad, you go to sleep first. I’ll watch here,” I said. “How can I rest assured with Lily like this?” Dad said. Hearing this, Mom touched his back and leaned on his shoulder. Her tears had dried up long ago, eyes red and swollen. “Maybe those guys will come again tomorrow, you need to rest well.” “Yeah,” Mom said, “Listen to Julian, with him here, Lily will be fine.” Dad sighed heavily and left slowly. In early years, he worked on construction sites and developed a disability when carrying sandbags. His spine hurt whenever it was cloudy and rainy. Now old, medicine was useless, could only endure with patches. Looking at Dad’s hunched back, my nose soured, feeling indescribably uncomfortable inside. After parents turned off the lights, I knocked on the door with a rhythm of two long, two short. This was our secret code. Before, I often took her out for late-night snacks like this, secretly stuffing snacks for her, and taking her out to play crazily after parents fell asleep. But this time, I didn’t see Lily’s cheerful look as I wished. “Lily,” I said softly, “Brother is coming in?” I have the key to her room. Still no movement inside. I felt bad intuitively, found the key, and opened the door. Such a heavy smell of blood! Blood stained a large patch of the bed sheet red. Lily lay on her back, half of her body soaked in bloody water, several shocking wounds on her wrist. “Lily!” I picked her up and ran out crazily. “Mom and Dad, Lily slit her wrists!” 04 Hospital, 1 AM. I sat on the cold bench, staring at the closed door of the operating room. Every time a nurse went in or out, my heart trembled. I am twelve years older than Lily. Mom gave birth to her when I was in sixth grade. When pregnant, uncle teased me saying, you are going to have a sister, mom and dad won’t want you anymore. So I disliked her at first. Until one day at noon after school, I saw mom discharged from the hospital, holding a pink and tender little thing. She was sleeping biting her finger, emitting a nice milky smell all over. The way mom looked at her, gentle like water overflowing. I felt sour in my heart. At this time, Lily woke up, two big bright eyes staring at me, suddenly giggled. Mom said pleasantly: “Crying and making a fuss in the hospital, smiles as soon as she sees brother. Lily likes brother too much.” Only then did I feel she didn’t seem that annoying. When Lily grew to three or four years old, she liked to follow behind me. Every day when I came home from school, as soon as I opened the door, I saw her pouncing over with open arms. When I did homework, Lily stood quietly beside me watching, little head resting on the table. Mom asked: “Julian, want to eat fruit?” I shook my head. So Lily said: “Brother says no.” “Want to drink milk then?” I nodded. So Lily ran over happily: “Brother says yes.” Mom smiled: “Lily is really brother’s tail.” She carefully put the milk on the table and asked: “Brother, what is a tail?” “Just likes to follow behind others.” She said proudly: “Then I am brother’s tail!” Growing a bit older, because of heavy family financial burden, I wanted to drop out of school to work and earn tuition for Lily. When skipping class, I was caught back by dad and punished kneeling at home to be beaten. Lily stood in front of me and said: “Not allowed to beat brother.” Dad threw away the belt and suddenly covered his face crying. That was the first time I saw father cry. He said he was useless, didn’t give the two children good conditions. Later, Lily told me: “Brother, you have to study hard, so you can find a good job and marry a good wife in the future…” Forgot half way reciting, turned to ask, “Mom, what’s next?” So I agreed with Lily, never skip class again, will study hard and get into a good university. Lily extended her little finger: “Pinky promise, no change for a hundred years.” This is our contract. Since childhood, things pinky promised, can’t change even if the sky falls. Then, I went to college, Lily in middle school. Went home a few times before, found Lily talked less. I thought she just reached adolescence and was unwilling to tell me everything. I should have discovered earlier. How did I fail to discover earlier?

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In the fifth year of marriage, I asked Ethan Stone for a divorce. The reason was that I found potato chip crumbs on his passenger seat. And he never let me eat in his car. He was dismissive: “Just for this little thing?” This time I didn’t lower my head like before. I just looked at him and said seriously: “Yes, just for this little thing.” 1 When I went to wash the car, the staff frowned and asked me: “Ma’am, there are snack crumbs in your car. I think we should do a deep interior cleaning?” I was stunned and subconsciously retorted: “Impossible.” Ethan couldn’t stand anyone eating in his car the most. He had fallen out with me several times because of this. How could there be snack crumbs in his car? The staff gestured for me to look. I leaned into the car and actually saw yellow potato chip crumbs on the passenger seat. Still with seasoning powder, scattered in the corner. … When driving the car home, I sat in the underground garage for a long time. Finally, I opened the dashcam. After rummaging for a while, I quickly found the segment from when he got off work yesterday afternoon. After a moment of silence, the sound of the door closing rang out, and a familiar female voice laughed: “Quite on time today!” That voice was very pleasant, with the unique delicate softness of a young girl. However, my heart turned cold at this moment. Ethan said briskly: “Why did you come out so early? Didn’t your supervisor scold you?” Sophia Lin laughed: “They all know my relationship with you, who dares to stop me?” If a mature woman like me said this, it would only make people feel snobbish and pretentious. But if a young girl who just graduated said it, it makes people feel boldly cute. Sure enough, Ethan chuckled and said nothing more. I suddenly remembered when we first got married, at that time I was still working in his company. Once I met him on the road and wanted to say hello, but he walked past me as if seeing nothing, as if he didn’t see me at all. When I mentioned this at home, he just frowned and said: “I don’t want people in the company to know our relationship. What would they say about me, arranging my own wife in for personal gain?!” After that, his parents also hoped I could take care of his daily life at home, so I simply resigned and became a housewife. But it turns out, he doesn’t mind his relationship with others. He just minds his relationship with me. The sound of puffed food packaging tearing pulled me back to reality. Sophia chewed potato chips “crunch crunch”. Ethan said nothing. “Oops,” Sophia said: “I dropped potato chip crumbs on the car, sorry.” “It’s okay.” Ethan was calm: “Just wash it when we get back.” Paused a bit, he continued: “Don’t eat so many snacks, I’ll take you to eat something good later.” There was nothing more after that. In the dim garage, I sat in the car silently for a long time. I wanted to control myself not to think about those things before, but my mind couldn’t help but recall two years ago, when I rushed to work without breakfast and brought two buns into Ethan’s car. He roared at me to get off: “Get out, don’t eat in my car!” I explained anxiously: “I won’t drop it in the car, this is mushroom filling, no smell.” But he just looked at me with disgust, stepped on the gas and drove away. Leaving me alone holding the buns, standing stunned in the garage. 2 It was raining that day and hard to get a taxi. My high heel broke when I ran out anxiously. I was in a sorry state when I arrived at work and was scolded badly by the supervisor. I had low blood sugar and didn’t eat breakfast. My vision went black when standing and I almost fainted. It was a colleague who stuffed me a pack of biscuits that I survived. But now, he allows someone to eat in his car. It turns out his principles are not unbreakable, just haven’t met that special person yet. I closed my eyes for a long time and took out the divorce agreement from my bag. This agreement had been printed out for half a year, but I never had a chance to take it out. To put it bluntly, I was reluctant myself. I have liked him for so long, this person occupied my entire youth. From the first day I liked him, I was waiting, waiting for him to see me. Then I waited until he fell in love with the school beauty. He was with the school beauty. His mother didn’t agree with him marrying the school beauty, they broke up. He was desperate, under family pressure, he chose to be with me indiscriminately. But after waiting for so many years, I didn’t wait for him to fall in love with me. Actually, the moment I saw Sophia, my sixth sense as a woman sounded the alarm. She was too much like Ethan’s first love. Both have bright looks, passionate personalities, spicy and cute. I noticed his eyes stayed on her for a few seconds, then passed her resume. Even though her education didn’t match the company’s recruitment requirements. What made me feel wrong at first was once Sophia called. Actually, it was all business, but it is unreasonable for an intern to call the president directly. We were eating at that time, Ethan suddenly put down his chopsticks, almost scrambling to answer the phone. His voice was tight, as if a bit nervous: “Don’t be afraid, I’ll call Minister Li later, he won’t blame you.” After hanging up, he was stunned for a while, and the corners of his mouth uncontrollably rose slowly. That night, he was in a good mood and even sang a song when he went to take a shower, which was unprecedented. And I felt like falling into an ice cave. Initially, Ethan probably didn’t want to cross the line. He didn’t communicate much with Sophia, and occasional calls were all business. Just that liking someone can’t be hidden, it will run out of the eyes even if the mouth is covered. He started coming home later and later, holding his phone typing all night, like a hairy boy falling in love for the first time. No matter how I cried or made a scene, he just blocked me back with one sentence: “If you can’t go on, you can divorce.” Then I died down. Actually thinking about it, what defeated me was not him, but my love. But now, I don’t want to love him anymore. Divorcing for a little potato chip crumb sounds ridiculous. But, this is the last straw that broke the camel’s back. 3 When I handed the divorce agreement to Ethan, he was typing, took it impatiently and threw it aside. “What is it, you want to buy a house again? “How many times have I said house prices now—” I interrupted him: “It’s a divorce agreement, you’d better take a look. “There are some property divisions inside that I still want to discuss with you.” Ethan was stunned, then he took the document and flipped through it casually, sneering: “Mia Jiang, when did you learn this crying, making a scene, and threatening suicide routine? “I support you, provide you with food and clothing, isn’t that enough, still have to accompany you to act in idol dramas?” I looked at him and said: “If you don’t have Alzheimer’s, you should remember that I had a job originally. It was you and your parents who insisted on me resigning to take care of you at home. “Now live-in nannies in Hangzhou start at 8000 a month, completely enough for me to support myself, so you didn’t provide me with food and drink, instead I am taking care of you, don’t think too highly of yourself.” Ethan looked up at me in surprise, seemingly unexpected that I would talk to him like this. Immediately after, he threw the divorce agreement aside with some anger from embarrassment: “What madness are you suddenly having?!” I said calmly: “I saw the potato chip crumbs on the passenger seat.” Ethan frowned tightly: “Just for this little thing?!” I nodded. “Yes, just for this little thing. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t agree, I will sue. It’s just that if this kind of thing gets big, it won’t look good on you either.” Ethan stared at me deadly. After a long time, he snatched the agreement, took out a pen, signed his name on it and threw it back to me, sneering: “Are you satisfied now?! “Mia, I tell you, don’t come crying and begging me like before.” He said contemptuously: “Like a dog.” My heart instantly felt a tightening pain. I had mentioned divorce when I was angriest before, only I was always the one who admitted defeat in the end, swallowing my pride to beg him for reconciliation. He knows my weakness best. And knows best how to hurt me. Only now I won’t. I picked up my coat: “Let’s go, get the certificate by the way.” Ethan didn’t mock me again this time. His expression gradually became serious, stood up and looked at me steadily: “Mia, are you serious? “You know the house you live in, the car you drive, your quality of life and conditions are all because of me. “You have to think clearly, without me, you are nothing.” I glanced at him: “Don’t dawdle, the Civil Affairs Bureau closes at five, won’t make it if later.” “Fine!” Ethan frowned: “Mia, don’t regret it.” 4 Getting a divorce certificate is much more troublesome than a marriage certificate. There is also a one-month cooling-off period. After going out, Ethan didn’t even look at me, drove away directly, leaving me alone at the entrance of the Civil Affairs Bureau. I took a taxi back to pack things. Under his livid face, I only took a few clothes and left. Most of the things I added these years were his. Now I found that my own things were only a small part, a 28-inch suitcase could pack them all away. Didn’t have time to rent a house, I stayed in a hotel first. When lying in bed, I realized belatedly that leaving Ethan was actually not that difficult. Before I never dared to imagine what it would be like leaving him. I thought I would die of sadness. But now, it’s not as uncomfortable as imagined. On the contrary, there is a feeling of relief, as if a big stone pressing on the body was completely moved away. Maybe, I didn’t love him as much as I thought long ago. I just got used to loving him, unaware that in this messy marriage, my love had already been consumed bit by bit.

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Just like Nana always cursed, I was finally gone. Yet, late that night, she opened my journal, whispering into the dark. “Harper… you should come back as a boy next time. Just be a boy. Girls are born to suffer these things.” “Boys have it good.” 1 My body was found the next morning. The scene was packed with onlookers. Nana, on her early morning grocery run, stopped at the edge of the crowd to gossip. When she heard a young girl had passed away, she shook her head. “Weak. If the girl in my house dared to jump, I’d break her legs myself.” I watched her walk away, muttering under her breath. “Waste of money feeding them all those years. Just for nothing.” “Early morning too. Couldn’t she have done it somewhere else?” A little later, I saw Nana coming back. She had the freshest bacon, the best eggs, and a box of glazed donuts—Mason’s favorite. I didn’t need to count. I knew there were exactly eight inside. None for Pop-Pop. None for Nana. None for me. All for Mason. I followed Nana home. Usually, she heads straight for the kitchen, but today she stomped toward my room. “Just because it’s the SATs today doesn’t mean you get to sleep in! If you don’t want to go to college, get out and flip burgers!” She shoved the door open and slapped the light switch. The bed was empty. The sheets were thrown back. She started cursing again. “Damn kid left without saying a word. No manners.” Yeah. I was the damn kid. And I was gone. Only my wandering soul was left to watch them. The family found out I was gone during breakfast. A neighbor recognized me and brought the cops to the door. I watched Nana panic, trying to explain. “You guys made a mistake. That brat has a test today, she left early.” But when they saw the photos—my broken form, the face still recognizable—all three of them froze. Pop-Pop’s eyes bugged out. He turned on Nana, screaming. “Are you blind?! A whole person goes missing and you don’t know?!” Nana, who never liked me, collapsed on the floor. She finally realized the “girl” she gossiped about was me. “How was I supposed to know she’d actually do it? How dare she? We spent so much money on her and she hasn’t paid back a cent! How dare she jump?” Nana made a move to get up, raising a trembling hand as if to slap my body in the photo. The officer and Mason held her back. “We found a journal and a pen on the roof. Only her prints. Handwriting matches,” the officer said. “This is an old building, no cameras. It looks like a fall from the seventh floor, but there are some scuff marks on the roof. We aren’t ruling out foul play. Investigation is ongoing.” My journal… I didn’t want them to see it. But I couldn’t stop them. Nana couldn’t read well, but Mason and Pop-Pop were reading. Mason went silent, his eyes turning red. Pop-Pop read two pages and immediately raised his hand to hit Nana. “Why are you always telling her to go die?!” Nana didn’t understand, dodging the blow while the cops tried to separate them. Pop-Pop was screaming, his old bones shaking as he tried to kick her. “Do you have no shame?! She was a child! You pushed her to this!” Nana was angry and confused. “What did she write? Mason, what did your sister write?” Mason didn’t speak. He just kept turning the pages. Pop-Pop was an accountant. Nana barely finished middle school. She suffered from feeling inferior, so she never won an argument against him. But my notebook was full of words. How could she think it was only about her cursing me? I wrote about how she didn’t love me. How everything good went to Mason. I had nothing. I wrote about her hitting me, screaming at me. I wrote about begging Pop-Pop for help, but he just looked annoyed that I woke him from his nap and slapped me for being loud. I wrote about how Mason already had everything, yet still fought me for scraps. Even a bag of chips—he’d take them to share with friends rather than leave me a single crumb. “Mason! What did she write? Is it all lies? Blaming everything on me? That wretched girl doesn’t let us have peace even when she’s gone! I should have strangled her at birth!” “Nana!” Mason’s voice trembled. “I need to call Dad.” Oh. I wrote about Dad and Mom too. But they divorced eight hundred years ago. Mom had a new family. Would she even come back? 2 Dad came back first. He hadn’t smoked in years, but he sat there in silence, staring at the journal, chain-smoking. Dad loved coming up with “business ideas.” They always failed. Money was always tight. Pop-Pop was in the living room cursing out Nana. Nana sat at the table mumbling to herself. Mason locked himself in his room. “She’s gone, so she’s gone! Why don’t you just kill me too then?” Nana suddenly snapped back. “I’ll beat the life out of you!” Pop-Pop grabbed his belt, but Dad stopped him. Dad frowned, looking exhausted. “Dad, Mom, stop it. You’re tired. Just rest.” “Tired? You know I’m tired? I’ve been a slave to this family for decades! I haven’t had a day off since I married you! Now she’s dead and you blame me? How is it my fault? You didn’t raise her right!” Nana pushed Dad away, tears streaming down her face. “What good girl goes and jumps off a roof? Writing all this trash to curse me? I say good riddance! She deserved it!” “Mom!” Dad was always a mama’s boy. I think that was the first time he ever yelled at her. Immediately, his face crumbled into a begging expression. “Mom, she didn’t curse you.” “Harper was my daughter. She’s gone now. We pushed her until she broke. Mom… I don’t have a daughter anymore.” Dad buried his face in his hands and squatted down. The living room went quiet. I noticed for the first time how much gray was in Dad’s hair. His back was bent. In my memory, he was always in a crisp suit, looking important, going to dinners, traveling everywhere. But they always told him I was bad. I remember the time guests came over. Nana told me to cook. I was going to listen. But I looked up and saw Mason, only a year younger than me, playing video games on the couch. I refused. So, she took all the books and trinkets in my room, shredded them, and burned them in a metal bin. We fought that day. She called me horrible names. I cried and fought back. I obviously lost. But after that, I never called her “Nana” again. She went to Dad. Said I was getting rebellious. That I was trying to fly away. When Dad talked to me privately, he liked to show me the scars on his hands from his “hard work.” He’d say, “Harper, you aren’t small anymore. Why can’t you just let your brother win? Dad works so hard out there, it’s not easy. When will you grow up?” I remember sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at his scars, crying, refusing to speak. I felt guilty. I was a burden. I was sorry for his pain. I thought I was too much. I wrote that in the diary too. I blamed myself for being immature. But I couldn’t let go of the resentment, which made me feel even worse. Dad must have read that part just now. Nana wiped a tear. “Fine. I won’t speak. But don’t blame me. The cops said someone might have pushed her. It has nothing to do with me.” She pushed herself up, her seventy-year-old body swaying. Pop-Pop muttered, “You’re the one who didn’t watch the door. You let her out.” Nana wanted to argue, but Pop-Pop slammed the door and left. I wanted to check on Mason. I walked through his wall. He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed. His phone rang. It was Mom. Mason picked up. Her voice came through the speaker. “Sweetie, I’m just driving your little brother to school. What’s up?” Mom’s voice was so gentle. But she wasn’t my mom anymore. She was Mason’s mom. And that new little brother’s mom. 3 “Mom… Harper is gone.” I heard Mason’s voice. He was choking up. But shouldn’t he be happy? He could finally have everything. No more worrying about me taking a tiny corner of his world. But he looked sadder than I imagined. “Mom!” Mason’s voice cracked, rising into a cry. “Harper is dead.” Mom fainted. Her current husband picked up the phone to tell us. Turns out, Mom’s best friend died of cancer two months ago. Mom was emotional. She hadn’t recovered from that, and now she got the news about me. The stepdad scolded Mason for being insensitive. Mason just nodded, saying “sorry” over and over. I crouched beside him, a ghost in the room, crying. I was so bad. I was torturing Mom again. Back when Mom used to visit, she liked to tell me, “Birthing you took so much out of me. It hurt like hell. I was barely eighteen, and your dad didn’t have a dime.” “Harper, I carried you for nine months. You are a piece of my heart. How could I not love you?” I believed she loved me. I was sorry it hurt so much to have me. But every time she talked to me, after mentioning the hardships, she only talked about that new little brother. I knew he didn’t eat fat on his meat. No onions. No eggs. No milk. I knew he wet the bed at eight. I knew he had a crush on a girl named Bella. I knew he liked to sleep next to Mom. She told me all of it. I had never met him. Mom didn’t really like talking to me because I was boring. I just listened silently. I never knew what to say. She loved chatting with Mason. Everyone said Mason had a sweet mouth. By the time Mom arrived, my body had been prepped. She leaned over the viewing table, crying without sound. It hurt to watch. Dad tried to support her. She slapped his hand away. “Why did she jump?! How were you taking care of her? Why? Why did she do it?” Mom was gasping for air, her words broken. Nana started to speak. Pop-Pop cut in, his voice cold. “You’re the mother, and you blame us? She wrote that you didn’t like her. Said you only loved your son. That you didn’t want her. She couldn’t take it, so she jumped.” Mom froze. Her mind seemed to shatter. She stumbled backward. “She… she said that about me?” Her beautiful face was streaked with mascara. I didn’t! I rushed forward, trying to explain. I just wrote that Mom loves the little brother so much. I wished Mom loved me like that. I wished she talked about me like that. Pop-Pop lied. Mom collapsed to the floor, wailing. I tried desperately to lift her, but my hands passed through her shoulders. Thankfully, Mason and Dad caught her. Mom hugged Mason and screamed, pounding her chest. I was awful. Mom was going to blame herself forever. Losing a best friend, then a daughter. I couldn’t imagine how broken she was. The crematorium was burning my body. I went back home. I tried again and again to burn that diary, but I couldn’t touch it! Wind blew through the open window, flipping the pages. It landed on an entry: “It’s great. Dad bought a condo. Three bedrooms. Pop-Pop said to put Mason’s name on the deed so he can get a wife later.” “I didn’t dare ask if there was a room for me. They never looked at me when they talked about it.” “But that’s okay. Dad worked hard for it. I’ll save money and buy my own house one day.” 4 I didn’t have a funeral. Pop-Pop said my death wasn’t honorable. Guests would laugh. A lot of people in the complex were already moving out, selling their units. Mom didn’t stay at the house. She got a hotel nearby. Dad offered her my room. But my room was a converted storage closet. No windows. Just stacks of dried beans in the corner. Small and messy. I was glad Mom didn’t stay there. That night, I sat in the living room, staring at the notebook, willing it to rot. The house was silent. Around midnight, I heard a noise from the grandparents’ room. Nana, holding the wall for support, walked out in the dark. She picked up the diary from the table, went into my room, and gently closed the door. She clicked on the light. I watched her turn the pages, her wrinkled face almost pressed against the paper. “You wrote so much just to curse me. Did you hate me that much?” I saw a tear hit the paper. She quickly dabbed it with her sleeve, trying not to ruin the ink. She wiped her eyes, but the tears wouldn’t stop. She sat on the edge of the bed. The yellow light highlighted the ivy-like wrinkles on her face. Nana looked so old. Her eyes were hollow. She whispered, “But isn’t this how everyone lives?” “Harper… my mother taught me this. Boys have to be taken care of better than girls. Was I really wrong?” “You’re gone now. Why are you still scolding me? Why didn’t you tell me when you were alive?” I looked at her pain and didn’t know what to say. I wouldn’t have said anything alive. I put everything in the book because no one in this house would listen. To them, my feelings were rebellious. Incorrect. “Harper, be a boy next time. Just be a boy. Girls are born to suffer these things.” “Boys have it good.” Nana’s voice was low, repeating it over and over. The room had no windows. The air was suffocating. Nana was bound by the chains of her generation. She never went to school. She worked in the house all day. She didn’t know that the ideas everyone followed in her time were obsolete. Her educated husband never told her. Her educated son just wanted to be ‘filial.’ The world moved on, but Nana was held back by the old ways. Left behind. She truly believed boys were more precious than girls. Maybe Nana wished she had been born a boy, too. I had some memories of Nana being good to me. Not many, but they existed. When I was little, we were poor. Other kids had candy; I was envious. If they dropped a piece, I’d check if anyone was looking, pretend to pick up a toy, and pocket the dirty candy. I’d wash it in the sink at home and eat it. It tasted like tap water, but it was sweet. Mason didn’t have to do that. He had allowance. One day, I was eating a washed candy while Nana picked vegetables. She asked if I found it. I smiled and said yes. “It’s good.” She said, “Don’t pick stuff up anymore. You don’t know if those people have diseases.” I didn’t know if they had diseases, but I was sickly. I drank bitter herbal concoctions all the time. It was so bitter it made me want to vomit. But after that day, every time I drank the medicine, there was a piece of candy. Small, but enough to kill the bitterness. I found out later Nana brought them home from weddings or diners. She’d shove handfuls of mints into her pocket, ignoring the weird looks from other guests, just to bring them to me.

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“The plot of your novel matches the Vance Family Massacre from ten years ago. perfectly. But due to the gruesome nature of the crime, the details were never released to the public.” The implication was clear: aside from the killer, no one could possibly know the specifics. Facing the interrogation, I let out a soft laugh. “You’re wrong, Detective. There is someone else.” “The victims.” 1 “The victims?” The man across the table scoffed. “So, what you’re saying is, you know the details because you’re one of the dead?” “Avery Stone, you’re a professional thriller author. Do I need to explain the concept of death to you?” The man speaking was Detective Miller, the youngest captain in the precinct’s history. He slammed his hand on the metal table for emphasis. I understood his anger. The Vance case was a cold case that haunted every cop in this city. Now, because of my book, it was back in the headlines. The internet was already buzzing with theories. Most people thought the author was the killer. Some trolls were even saying it was a manifesto—a preview of the next slaughter. The city was on edge. I smiled, leaning back. “Detective Miller, I’m just telling you that the killer isn’t the only one with a memory. Why are you so worked up?” “Besides, you know who I am. My face doesn’t look anything like the four people who died in that house.” Miller glared at me. “Avery, be serious. We ran a full background check.” “You have no relation to the Vance family.” “Ten years ago, you weren’t even in the state. Where did you get the details? What is your relationship with the suspect?” Seeing that I was about to be booked as an accomplice, I quickly countered. “Careful with the accusations. I don’t know any killer.” Miller gave a long, drawn-out “Oh?” and looked at me with a face that said, Go ahead, lie to me. I cleared my throat. “Everything I know, Lily Vance told me herself.” Lily was the teenage daughter of the victims. “Detective, do you believe the dead can dream?” At first, I didn’t believe it either. The first time I saw her was two weeks ago. I was blocked on my manuscript, totally burned out, so I went to meet an old friend for drinks. It was a Friday. Traffic was a nightmare. The cabbie asked if I minded taking a shortcut through the backwoods. I hate traffic horns, so I told him to go ahead, even if it cost extra. The driver glanced in the rearview mirror. “Doesn’t cost extra. It’s just… that road is cursed. Most folks won’t take it.” My writer’s instinct kicked in. I shoved my phone in my purse. “Cursed how?” “Sigh.” The driver turned the wheel, his voice dropping an octave. “There was a headless massacre on that road. A whole family.” 2 “It was June 7th. Graduation night for the daughter, Lily Vance.” That morning, after the ceremony, her homeroom teacher realized Lily was missing. Thinking she was upset about something, the staff searched the entire school. Kids get emotional around graduation; sometimes they do stupid things. But the campus was empty. Then, a classmate spoke up: “Mrs. Higgins, Lily never showed up to line up for the diploma.” The teacher panicked. She drove straight to the Vance estate. The front gate was unlatched. She called out, but got no answer. According to the police report later, she knew something was wrong immediately. Lily’s dad raised Dobermans. Usually, they barked at everything. That day, the estate was silent as a grave. She walked into the yard and saw three dogs lying dead in the grass. Her legs went weak, but she pushed the front door open. The smell of iron hit her first. Then she saw them. Four bodies, seated neatly around the dining table. Heads nowhere to be found. That afternoon, the police issued a statement asking for leads. But they withheld the brutal details. No one knew where the heads were, or the time of death. Three years later, a developer bought the land. But every time they tried to demo the house, the excavators malfunctioned. Workers reported hearing weeping from the walls. The developer eventually fenced off a two-mile radius and built a factory down the road instead. The factory went bust. Now, no one goes there. “Look,” the driver said. A three-story Victorian stood alone against the setting sun. The gate was gone. Weeds choked the yard. Paint was peeling, but you could tell it used to be magnificent. “That’s the place.” I sighed, about to say something. Then I saw her. Standing in the overgrown grass was a girl in a blood-soaked dress, staring dead at me. I rubbed my eyes, thinking it was a trick of the light. She was still there. And she took a step toward the car. 3 I screamed. The driver jumped. “What? What is it?” I swallowed hard, stammering. “I… I think I saw a girl. No, not think. I really… I really saw… Ah!” The driver slammed on the gas, throwing me back into the seat. He sped away, muttering prayers. “Sorry, sorry, I won’t talk about you anymore, please don’t follow me.” When he dropped me off, he looked pale. “You better burn some sage, lady. Or they’ll latch onto you.” I told my friend at the bar. He just laughed. “Come on, Avery. You have an overactive imagination.” “Remember when you wrote that historical romance and swore you saw a knight in your kitchen?” True. The bar was loud, the drinks were strong, and I forgot about it. I went home drunk and passed out. In my dream, I saw the girl in the bloody dress again. She asked if I wanted to write a bestseller. I nodded desperately. A few days later, my editor called. She was screaming with excitement. The new book was viral. “Where did you get this concept, Avery? It’s genius!” Confused, I opened the link. Someone had uploaded a new book under my account. It was #1 on the charts. I read the first chapter and my blood ran cold. It was the story of the Vance family. “And that’s it,” I sighed, looking at Detective Miller. “Technically, I didn’t write it. Lily Vance did.” 4 The interrogation room fell into a dead silence. Miller kept his poker face, but the rookie cop next to him looked like he wanted to call an exorcist. Finally, Miller spoke. “If that’s true, why isn’t the book finished?” I had asked Lily that in a dream. She looked sad. She told me she didn’t know who the killer was. She used my hands to write the details to get the police’s attention. She wanted you to catch him. “So, the rest is up to you, Detective. If you have questions for Lily, let me know. I’ll ask her tonight.” Miller tapped his knuckles on the table. “Avery, do you really think I buy that?” “You’re a great storyteller, I’ll give you that. I almost believed you. Almost.” Almost? “We tracked your movements,” Miller said, his voice hard. “Two weeks ago, August 2nd. You took a cab, license plate 7723. You passed the Vance estate. The driver admits he told you the story.” “You got dropped off at the bar. You met a guy named Brad.” “But you never went home, Avery.” “We pulled the CCTV from your apartment complex. You never walked in that door.” “So, the whole ‘drunk dreaming’ story is a lie.” My heart hammered against my ribs. Impossible. How did he know I didn’t go home? I’ve been ordering takeout for two weeks. I have an arrangement with old Mr. Henderson upstairs to take my trash… Wait. The cameras. I forgot to smash the cameras in the hallway. 5 A knock on the door broke the tension. “Captain. Urgent.” The officer at the door stared at me with pure horror. Miller frowned and stepped out. He came back two minutes later, looking like he’d seen a ghost. “Someone just turned themselves in. Do you know who?” I shook my head innocently. “I’m not psychic.” “It’s Brad,” Miller said. I knew it. He was the only one who knew where I went that night. “Avery, do you know what he just told me?” Miller’s voice trembled slightly. “He says he killed a woman on the night of August 2nd. He says he killed you.” He was right. He did kill me. Or rather, he killed “Avery Stone.” But he didn’t kill me. 6 My name is Lily Vance. Ten years ago, on June 6th, my parents, my little brother Leo, and I were butchered in our home. Maybe my rage was too strong, but my soul became tethered to the house. I tried to leave to find the killer, but I was trapped within the property lines. For ten years, I watched people come and go. Police recreating the scene. Mourners leaving flowers. YouTubers breaking in for “ghost hunts.” I tried to scream, to move things, to make the air cold. I thought if I scared them, they’d bring a medium. Someone who could hear me. But no one ever did. Eventually, the world forgot us. Until Avery Stone showed up. I was sitting in the weeds, reading a book someone had left as an offering, when a cab slowed down. “That’s the place,” the driver said. I looked up and locked eyes with the woman in the backseat. She… she could see me? I stepped forward to test it. “I… I think I saw a girl…” she stammered. The car sped off. My hope shattered. But hours later, she came back. 7 It was 10 PM. Avery walked into the house with a guy—Brad. She was saying, “I know that was Lily Vance. She wants to tell me something. If I write this story, it’ll be a bestseller.” She started looking around for inspiration. Brad, however, was just staring at her legs. “Brad, stop…” she turned, noticing his look. He didn’t pretend anymore. He shoved her onto the dusty sofa. “Come on, Avery. You wanted a thrill, right?” She struggled, but she was a writer who sat at a desk all day. He was a gym rat. I rushed forward, screaming, clawing at him. But my hands passed through his body like smoke. I tried to slam doors, break windows—nothing worked. My energy was gone. “This place is haunted, Brad! Stop!” “Haunted? Good. No one will hear you scream.” I watched him assault her. I watched him strangle her. Just like I watched the killer slaughter my family. I knelt beside her, screaming her name, but her eyes went glassy. Brad cursed, realizing what he’d done. He ran. I reached out to touch Avery’s body. A blinding white light swallowed me. When I woke up, I was Avery Stone. 8 “Avery?” Detective Miller snapped his fingers. “Brad says he strangled you. What do you have to say?” I held out my wrist. “Want to check my pulse?” Miller frowned. “He’s hysterical. He’s on his knees begging us to lock him up.” “We told him you’re alive. He doesn’t believe us. He demands to see you. Do you… want to see him?” I felt a surge of adrenaline. “Yes. Why not?” Thirty minutes later, I walked into the viewing room. Brad looked like a wreck. Pale, shaking, eyes darting around the corners of the room. When he saw me, he froze. Then he dropped to his knees. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m a monster!” “Please, let me go. I’ll die. I’ll kill myself right now!” He tried to slam his head into the table. Miller grabbed him. “Look! She’s alive!” Brad shrank into Miller’s arms, trembling. I couldn’t help it. I laughed. The sound made him shriek. “She’s dead! That’s a demon! She’s come back for me!” The medics rushed in. Only I noticed the truth. Brad wasn’t looking at me. He was looking behind me. 9 I turned around. Nothing. Was I imagining it? They dragged Brad out. I sat down, exhausted. “What are you looking for? I’m right here.” A voice laughed beside my ear. I turned. The real Avery Stone—her ghost—was floating on the desk. I pointed at the door. “Brad… was that you?” She crossed her arms, looking smug. “Nobody hurts me and gets away with it. I’ve been haunting him for two weeks.” Miller walked back in. He saw me talking to thin air and paused. “What are you doing?” I smiled awkwardly. “Plotting my next chapter. I dictate aloud.” Avery giggled in my ear. “Liar. I hate dictating.” Miller sighed. “Writers are weird. Look, sign this statement.” He watched me sign. His eyes narrowed slightly as he watched the pen move. I left the station and talked to Avery. She told me her soul had latched onto Brad that night. That’s why I couldn’t find her in the house. “I drove him insane. But he tried to hire a priest to exorcise me. The nerve!” “Anyway,” Avery floated alongside me. “Did the book work? Did we flush out the killer?”

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The internet was blowing up with people looking for their lost online loves. I jumped on the bandwagon and posted a thread: [Thread] @MoonGazer: My first love. We met on a Discord study server in high school. He was a rich trust fund baby from New York with a terrible attitude but perfect grades. We promised to meet after graduation, but I ghosted him. Five years later, I still remember his name was Zach. A few minutes later, I got notifications for several replies: @King_J: I have a terrible attitude? @King_J: I’m standing exactly where we agreed to meet. Come say that to my face if you have the guts. @King_J: Also, my last name is Sterling, dammit. 1 The comment section under the “Find Your Digital Ex” video had over ten thousand replies. I naturally assumed my little contribution would vanish into the void. I didn’t expect my phone to buzz a few minutes later. @King_J: I have a terrible attitude? I froze. Before I could even process what that meant, new notifications popped up. @King_J: I’m standing exactly where we agreed to meet. Come say that to my face if you have the guts. @King_J: Also, my last name is Sterling, dammit. “…” I was baffled until my eyes drifted to his username and profile picture. My heart slammed against my ribs. Username: King. Avatar: A single moon in a pitch-black sky. The username was exactly the same as the one on the study server back in high school. The avatar was the one I used to use. It was really him. My first reaction wasn’t joy. It was panic. I only dared to remember him while hiding in the crowd. I was absolutely not prepared to face him. While I was spiraling, a DM popped up in my inbox from a stranger. King: Moon. A short, simple summons. No follow-up. A moment later, another DM from a different account: User882: Damn it, ‘Stranger’. The message was abrupt, but I recognized the tone instantly. It was the same person. Because right after that, a new message from a new throwaway account appeared every minute: User883: Give me. Your contact info. User884: 555-019-XXXX. That’s mine. Text me. User885: Where are you? Answer me! User886: Ignoring me, huh? Great! I can borrow a hundred more accounts! “…” I stared at the endless stream of DMs, realizing this man was locked in. He wouldn’t stop until he got a result. I sighed. I clicked on the “Where are you? Answer me!” message and replied with an ellipsis. For a long time, there was no reply. The spamming stopped. I realized he must be waiting. I went to find his original account to reply. But then, a new message jumped to the top of my screen. King: I’ve been looking for you for five years. I don’t even know your real name. Is it that hard to just say a word to me? One sentence. And I was dragged back five years into the past. 2 Jace Sterling and I used to be just internet friends. back in high school, Discord study servers were huge. High schoolers from all over the country would hang out there, mostly to compare notes and compete. Senior year, I spent all my time in the Math channel. If I saw an interesting problem, I’d solve it. One day, a post caught my eye. @MathWhiz: I’m top of my class, AP Calc medalist, but I can’t crack this. Can any god-tier genius help? The problem was genuinely hard. It took me an hour to derive the answer. Filled with a sense of accomplishment, I posted my solution. But I noticed someone else had uploaded theirs at the exact same second. He tagged me immediately. @King: Trash. You did it wrong. My answer is the right one. I scanned his process and easily found a hole in his logic. I circled the error in red and replied, not holding back. @Moon: Moron. The mistake is yours! Less than a minute later, he circled a flaw in mine. @King: Idiot. We ended up in an unspoken race, solving the problem again. But every time one of us posted an answer, the other would find a loophole and attach a colorful insult. In less than two hours, we had built a thread of 99+ replies under that post. Finally, half a day later, the original poster reappeared: @MathWhiz: Sorry guys, my teacher just said the problem itself has a typo. It’s unsolvable. We both paused. Then, simultaneously, we turned our rage on the OP. @King: Are you kidding me? A typo? I was about to solve it! @Moon: Ignorant child! Don’t mess with my flow! I was about to solve it too! This time I was right! The thread exploded with another 99+ comments. It ended with both Jace and me getting banned from the server for 24 hours. And that was how our “feud” began. From math, we moved to English, Physics, then to piano, art, and movies… We talked about everything, but never revealed our real names or backgrounds. We only used our handles. Because we made a pact: we would introduce ourselves properly the first time we met in person. That way, our first meeting would feel like a reunion. I only knew Jace’s name because once, during a video call where we only showed our desks, I caught a glimpse of the corner of his test paper. Turns out, I read it wrong. “Zach.” A wrong name that I had chewed on for five years. Just like my absurd life—traveling further and further down the wrong track. 3 Maybe humans are just obsessed with things that lack closure. You need an introduction when you meet, and a goodbye when you part. Only then is the circle complete. Otherwise, it haunts you. I figured that’s how Jace felt about me. The DMs were still coming. I closed my eyes, took a breath, and replied to his main account: Moon: I’m sorry. Breaking our promise and leaving without a word was my fault. I owed him that. Moon: I’m sorry I couldn’t make it five years ago. Moon: I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say besides sorry… If you need a formal goodbye to move on, I won’t run away. The spamming stopped the moment I sent the apology. But after a long silence, Jace sent just two words: King: Contact info. I paused. Moon: I don’t think that’s necessary. King: Not necessary? Jace seemed agitated. King: I was ghosted, not dumped. Moon: What do you mean… I was confused. Jace replied instantly: King: We never broke up. You’re still my girlfriend. 4 I never believed that a teenage heartbeat across a network cable could last. I thought Jace was looking for me out of indignation, anger, or a need for answers… I never thought it was because of love. Besides, we weren’t technically together. It was just one night before graduation. We were talking about colleges and realized we both aimed for New York. Jace suddenly looked at the camera—well, at his desk—and said seriously: “There’s a coffee shop across from the NYU campus. After graduation, let’s meet there.” I agreed happily. I saw the tips of his ears turn red on the screen as he looked away. “When we meet… be my girlfriend.” I was stunned, but I said yes without hesitation. We were young and shy, but honest. We weren’t afraid to pay the price for our feelings. But now… I couldn’t even afford the price of an apology. I stayed silent. Jace, sharp as ever, caught the loophole in my previous words. King: You said if I needed a formal goodbye, you wouldn’t run away. King: So don’t run. Number. Now. I was in the wrong, so I gave him my number. I accepted the friend request on WeChat. I thought he would demand to know where I had been for five years. I thought he would ask for explanations, reasons, groveling… Instead, his first message was: Jace: I’m sorry my temper is bad. Jace: I’ll change. 5 In an instant, my eyes welled up. That arrogant, domineering boy always bowed his head to me without hesitation. When we first met, he was so explosive I thought he was just a toxic guy who cared too much about face. But after a few arguments, I realized he was always the first to show weakness. He would pretend nothing happened and send a math problem: Jace: 1292 + 2013.1 I was still mad and didn’t check the math, just sending a question mark. He would reply lightly: Jace: Sum it up. [Note: In Chinese internet slang, numbers often represent words. 5201314 means “I love you forever”.] Two words, and our war would end. Looking back now, it felt like a lifetime ago. Maybe because I took too long to reply, Jace returned to his bossy self: Jace: I’m at the coffee shop across from NYU. Come see me. I sighed. Moon: Sorry, I’m not in New York. Jace: Then come to New York. Moon: I can’t. Jace was probably getting angry again. Jace: Are you playing me? You promised five years ago! Jace: Or? He stopped typing. A long silence followed before the second half of his thought appeared. Jace: Do you have another boyfriend now? Moon: No. I blinked, and a tear hit the screen. Moon: That’s not the reason. Jace: Then why? My finger hovered over the text box. Finally, through blurry eyes, I typed the truth, letter by letter. Moon: I don’t have the money for a plane ticket.

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Ten years after yanking the elusive golden boy off his pedestal, I, Cassidy “Cass” Jones, finally stopped pretending for Preston Brandon. I redecorated the apartment in the Vegas-flashy, ‘new money’ style I actually liked. I meticulously calculated and emailed him the household expenses, demanding we split them. I even got into a screaming match with a neighbor, the kind of public brawl that had the cops knocking on the door. When Preston walked in, I was standing in the hallway, hands on my hips, shouting loud enough for the whole floor to hear. “Mrs. Davison, my contractors work nine to five. Perfectly legal. Your kid plays the cello like he’s sawing a tree down at ten o’clock every night. Are you really calling the police on yourself for a noise complaint?” Mrs. Davison’s face went purple with fury. “You—you’re being ridiculous!” I didn’t budge. “I’m being factual!” Preston strode forward, his brow severely furrowed, a quiet disapproval radiating off him. “Cass, that’s enough. They’re neighbors. You need to play nice and apologize.” I finally raised my eyes to look at him. 1 He was wearing a simple white button-down and black slacks, yet he still exuded that innate, aloof refinement—the kind money and art had steeped into him—making him look utterly out of place amidst the chaos. Even Mrs. Davison, moments ago hysterical, flushed and began waving her hands. “Never mind, never mind. It’s a minor thing, apologies for disturbing you, Mr. Brandon.” But I turned my hostility on him, my voice sharp. “I’m entirely in the right. If you can’t handle it, you can always go back and live at the Estate.” Preston stiffened. He always hated my vulgar taste, my penny-pinching habits, and my aggressive, market-raised spirit. To please him, I had spent years suppressing my nature, trying to be the muted, quiet, uncontentious wife he seemed to want. This recent behavior was a complete reversal. Since Mrs. Davison backed down, the impromptu mediation was over. I was already disinterested, turning to walk into the apartment, when he called me back. “What is this temper tantrum really about?” Preston stared at me, searching my face for an answer. “If this is about Sienna staying at the Estate, I can explain. She just got back into the country, and I simply—” “What does that have to do with me?” I cut him off, genuinely confused. “That’s your family property. You can let anyone you want stay there.” His confusion deepened. “But you were the one who helped me buy the Estate back. If it’s not that, then what is it?” I sighed. “I’m not throwing a tantrum. This is just who I am, Preston. You know that.” Before he could speak again, I reached up and straightened his collar. “Never mind all that. Today is the ten-year anniversary of my father’s death. Get cleaned up. We’re going to the cemetery.” We went downstairs, where two town cars were waiting. Preston hesitated for a moment, then, to my surprise, got into the same car as me. I raised an eyebrow; he usually refused to be close to me because he couldn’t stand the faint scent of fish that always clung to my clothes. But I didn’t care about the small details anymore. I told the driver to start and turned my gaze to the city rushing by. If it hadn’t been for the Brandon family’s spectacular bankruptcy a decade ago, Preston and I would have remained galaxies apart. His father had been a shipping magnate. His mother, a socialite. Preston himself had studied under master artists since childhood, holding his first gallery exhibition at fifteen. He was the Brandon golden boy, the celestial being everyone in the City envied. My father was just their sous chef. My family ran a fish stall in the gritty Fulton Market Area to make ends meet. Everyone said Preston was the moon, and I was the dirt beneath their feet. That no amount of polish could ever make me worthy. Then their sky fell. His father’s investments tanked. Debt collectors swarmed the mansion, and his parents took their own lives. I was sixteen. That morning, my father had simply said, “The Brandon family is in trouble. I need to go see about them.” I waited all day. What returned was my father, bleeding and barely conscious, and a frantic, panicked Preston. “Cass, get the Young Master out of here…” My father choked out the words, then died. I looked down at Preston, who was kneeling beside my father’s body. The Brandon golden boy, the one I’d been secretly crushing on for years, looked like a drenched, beautiful stray. My heart hammered in my chest. I knew I shouldn’t, but I grabbed his hand and ran with him into the rainy night. I took him back to my tiny railroad apartment. He took one sniff of the fish smell and threw up. While I cleaned it up, I remember thinking, A prince’s stomach is so delicate. But I was willing to sacrifice everything for him. To support this precious young man, I got up at four a.m. to buy fish at the wholesale market, opened my stall at seven, worked a waitressing gig in the afternoon, and strung beads for jewelry late into the night. The first money I earned was always for him: canvas, oil paint, and the precise blend of Blue Mountain coffee he preferred. Once, he frowned and said, “The color in this paint isn’t pure enough.” I quietly asked the art supply store owner, who explained, “The pure pigments have to be specially ordered. A set is three thousand dollars.” I bit the bullet and took on three overnight beading jobs to save the money. When I presented the box of paint to him, he only said, “Thank you.” His tone was polite, distant, and formal. I was so happy I couldn’t sleep that night. Three years later, my seafood restaurant opened. I drank some wine that night, and the courage hit me. I took his hand and blurted out, “Preston, I’m crazy about you. So, so crazy.” Preston was silent for a long time. Outside, the neon lights of the City never dimmed. Inside, my heart was a wild thing. I watched his handsome profile and told myself that if he said no, I would understand. He was the moon; I was the mud. We were never meant to be. But Preston said, “Okay.” I laughed, and then I cried. I knew he was accepting out of debt—to repay the favor. I knew I was greedy; I had the man, but now I wanted his heart. But a lifetime is a long time. I was sure I would get my way eventually. Until Sienna Reed came back. She was his cherished childhood sweetheart, his former painting apprentice, and the girl he was once destined to marry. “Is all this change because of Sienna? She and I are truly just old acquaintances…” Preston had been holding it in all the way, and the question finally broke through, interrupting my memories. “Yes and no,” I said, shrugging indifferently. “After we finish honoring my father, I’ll tell you exactly what’s going on.” Preston had to settle for that, stuffing his anxiety back down. The car was only two blocks from the Northside Cemetery when his phone rang abruptly. He answered, and the sound of Sienna’s delicate, soft voice spilled from the line. “Preston, a pipe burst at the Estate, and there’s water everywhere! I’m so scared… can you please come over?” I acted as if I hadn’t heard, staring out the window, entirely unconcerned. Preston glanced at me, his frown deepening. “Sienna, I’m not free right now. Just turn off the main water valve. I’ll call the building management…” “I don’t know where the valve is!” Sienna sobbed, cutting him off. “Preston, are you still mad at me? My parents forced me to leave a decade ago, and there hasn’t been a day I haven’t regretted it. I’m sorry, but please don’t abandon me…” The air in the car solidified for a few agonizing seconds. The sound of weeping and gushing water over the phone was sharp in Preston’s ear. He squeezed his phone, took a deep breath, and turned to me. “Something happened at the Estate. Sienna was always pampered; she can’t handle this alone.” “Cass, I…” I had already anticipated his choice. I didn’t have the patience to listen to his elaborate excuses. I signaled the driver to pull over and unlocked Preston’s door. My tone was sincere, a simple nudge. “Just go. Don’t keep her waiting.” 2 Before stepping out of the car, Preston made a solemn promise: “I’ll be back as soon as possible. Wait for me.” I didn’t answer. Once his tall, elegant back had vanished into the stream of passersby, I told the driver to keep going. I didn’t doubt Preston intended to keep his word; I just knew Sienna Reed would ensure he couldn’t. When the Brandon family went bankrupt, all their friends scattered, and Sienna and her parents emigrated. Last month, she finally returned and made a beeline for Preston. I happened to be home. I opened the door to find Sienna standing there in a designer suit, adorned with perfect pearls—her entire look screaming ‘unapproachable wealth.’ I had to wonder who this elegant stranger was. Sienna bypassed me and looked into the apartment, her delicate eyebrows drawing together in a look of profound pity. “Preston’s been living here all these years? He’s been so wronged.” I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes. Two thousand square feet of prime City real estate, with panoramic skyline views, was “wronged”? When Preston emerged from his studio, Sienna immediately rushed forward and embraced him with an easy, intimate familiarity. “Preston, I missed you so much. It’s been too long.” I coughed twice. Sienna finally seemed to notice my presence, turning to flash a polite, practiced smile. “You must be Cass. Thank you for taking care of Preston all this time.” Her tone was the classic, patronizing delivery of a true hostess thanking the maid. I pulled my lips into a thin line. “My pleasure.” Sienna exchanged numbers with me, then took Preston’s arm, ready to leave for dinner. Before stepping out, she gave me an apologetic glance. “Cass, are you sure you don’t want to join? Though we’ll probably be talking about things you wouldn’t understand…” Before I could reply, Preston nodded slightly, his voice flat. “Cass, stay home. I’ll see you later.” I waited up until midnight that night. Then, I received Sienna’s first text. «Cass, Preston is helping me set up the gallery, so he won’t be home for a few days. Just wanted to let you know so you wouldn’t worry.» Three days later, the second one arrived. «Preston gifted me several of his paintings to be the cornerstones of the gallery. I hope you don’t mind.» A week ago, the third. «I just found the sketchpad he kept from childhood. He drew me in it all the time. I heard he’s never painted a single thing for you? Is that true?» I never replied to any of them. The car reached the cemetery. I walked up the hill alone, set out the offerings, lit the incense, and had just finished my third bow when my phone buzzed. It was Sienna again. «Preston soaked his shirt fixing the pipes, so he can’t make it to the memorial. I know today is special, and I’m genuinely sorry, but please stop using gratitude to tie Preston down.» «Even though Preston is honorable, your backgrounds are too far apart, and you don’t understand his artistic vision. Letting him go now will be better for both of you.» The usual polite, veiled sneering was gone, replaced by a raw, brutal honesty. I read every word, then let out a cynical, short laugh. She was right. I truly didn’t understand Preston’s art. Every time I was asked to critique his work, all I could squeeze out was some hollow platitude like, “The colors are so pretty,” or “It looks exactly like the ocean.” Preston would simply nod, uninterested, and never asked for my opinion again. I even tried to suck up to him once, offering a massive sum to buy one of his skyline paintings to hang in my restaurant lobby. Preston had looked up at me, his eyes as cold and distant as if I were a stranger. “Cass,” he’d said, “don’t cheapen my art with money.” I was mortified, unable to speak, and never raised the subject again. Yet, the moment Sienna needed a gallery, Preston personally packed up most of his recent work and sent it over to boost her standing. And the sketchpad. Preston had treasured that thing. When he wanted to retrieve it from the abandoned Brandon Estate, he was so distraught I had to go in his stead. I twisted my ankle jumping out a window, got caught, and took a few solid hits to the head. Blood ran into my eyes, but my first instinct was to feel for the notebook in my jacket. It was safe. I hadn’t known what was inside, only that it was his treasure. It was filled with drawings of Sienna. I supposed I should thank Sienna for showing me where Preston’s heart truly lay. Otherwise, I would have continued to bury my head in the sand, grinding my way through a strained marriage. After all, Preston would never be the one to ask for a divorce. I touched the cold stone of the headstone and recalled the first time he visited this grave. He had knelt, his back ramrod straight, and his voice was earnest and serious. “Sir, I promise to spend my entire life repaying you and Cass for your kindness. I will always be with her.” He had meant it. A life for a life. He kept his promise. But I never wanted his gratitude. I only ever wanted his genuine love. I sighed, then typed my first-ever response to Sienna. «You’re right. Preston is honorable, which is how a girl like me got so lucky in the first place.» «No matter how late, he will be back today to pay his respects to the man who saved him.» I hit send, switched off my phone, and pulled the pre-signed divorce agreement from my bag, using a flat stone to hold it down against the headstone. I turned and walked back down the hill. I didn’t look back once. At nine that night, I was reviewing the restaurant’s monthly accounts when Preston’s call came in. His tone was heavy. “Cass, you didn’t wait for me, and you left a divorce agreement behind. What does this mean?”

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