Author: Momo Chan

My husband died, but his voice didn’t. It started echoing in my head. As I checked our bank account, he was gloating. Heh. She’ll never guess I was reborn inside her own womb. She wants my money? Dream on. I already transferred the cash and the house to Claire! And I was smart enough to get a DNA test done with Claire’s kid. All she has to do is open my safe deposit box at the bank. The test will prove the kid is mine and entitle her to half my estate. Then, when Sophia is giving birth to me, I’ll find a way to make sure she dies in childbirth. The rest of the money will come right back to me! I’ll give it all to Claire, and our little family of three can finally be together! 1 When my husband, Marcus, died in an accident, I was so wracked with grief at the funeral that I collapsed. After being rushed to the hospital, the doctor wouldn’t let me leave. “You’re pregnant. Didn’t you know?” she asked gently. “This level of stress is dangerous. If you want to keep this baby, you need to stay here on bed rest. Your pregnancy is extremely unstable right now.” I clutched my stomach in shock. Before I could even process the news, my mother-in-law was grabbing my hand, her face streaked with tears. “Sophia, that baby is all we have left of our son. I’m begging you, you have to have this child.” “You just focus on giving birth,” she pleaded. “We’ll raise the baby for you. Boy or girl, it doesn’t matter, they’ll be the light of our lives. Please, Sophia. This is your mother asking you.” A storm of joy and sorrow washed over me. This was the last gift Marcus had left me. In a rush of emotion, I agreed. But raising a child alone is expensive. A week later, I was discharged. The first thing I did when I got home was check our bank accounts. My husband had earned a good salary for years; there should have been more than enough to raise our child. But when I saw the balance, I had to rub my eyes in disbelief. “How is there only three thousand dollars?” My hand trembled as I scoured Marcus’s phone, checking every app, every account. All told, it was less than five thousand. I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. I had no idea what had happened, when suddenly, I heard Marcus’s sly voice in my head. Heh. She’ll never guess I transferred the cash and the house to Claire! My body went rigid. Claire was with me for six years, never asking for money or a title. I couldn’t let her down. Thank god I got all my affairs in order. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to rest in peace. The condo at The Crestwood is prime real estate. After buying it for her, there was just enough left over to give her a nice little nest egg. I slowly lowered my head, my gaze falling to my own stomach. The voice was coming from inside me. Could it be? Had he been reincarnated… in my womb? To test this insane theory, I spoke aloud, my words a deliberate probe. “Marcus made fifteen thousand a month, and I make ten. We should have had at least three hundred thousand in savings. For there to be this little… did he cheat on me?” ! How did she guess so fast? I was so careful! She never suspected a thing! My heart sank into a pit of ice. I had to accept the horrifying truth. My husband of six years had been cheating on me. Based on what he said, the affair started almost as soon as we were married. And I was actually planning on carrying his child to term. What a fool I’d been. Once I calmed down, it didn’t take long to find the digital breadcrumbs on his phone. The woman, Claire, was his mentee at work. She had even been to our house for dinner more than once. They had been carrying on right under my nose. And now, the bastard had been reborn inside me. The thought was so revolting I had to run to the bathroom and empty my stomach into the toilet. Ugh, morning sickness. But it doesn’t matter how sick she gets. She’ll have me. She’s always been so devoted to me. Rage and grief churned inside me. I grabbed my coat, my keys, and drove straight to The Crestwood. On the way, I called my lawyer and had him pull every single one of Marcus’s bank statements. He thought he had everything arranged for his little mistress? Whatever he arranged, I was going to tear it all down. 2 The closer I got to The Crestwood, the more agitated Marcus’s voice became. She’s broke. What is she doing here? Did she find out something? But I hid it so well! Stay calm, stay calm. Sophia’s not smart enough to figure this out. She can’t do anything. I slapped my stomach, hard, and slammed my foot on the gas. At the complex, I went straight to Claire Han’s apartment. When she opened the door and saw me, a flicker of panic crossed her face before being quickly suppressed. “Mrs. Kane? What… what are you doing here?” I ignored her, walking past her and taking in the apartment. It was easy to see she wasn’t spending her own money. From the expensive flooring to the designer furniture, everything was top-of-the-line. The sofa in the living room was the exact model I had wanted when we got married, the one Marcus had refused to buy, saying it was too extravagant. And here it was. In his mistress’s home. I started toward the master bedroom, but Claire grabbed my arm and steered me back to the living room. “Mrs. Kane…” she said, cautiously pouring me a glass of water. “I know you’re grieving. Maybe we could go for a walk? Get some fresh air?” Damn it, this is all my fault. If I could have just given Claire the status she deserved, she wouldn’t have to be so timid in front of this bitch. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I decided to cut the crap. “Claire, as I recall, your salary is about three thousand dollars a month. A place here costs a fortune.” “Did you buy this apartment yourself?” “Yes!” She was clearly lying through her teeth, so desperate to quell my suspicions that she rushed to get the deed before I could say another word. “See? It’s my house. My name is on the deed, Mrs. Kane.” I let out a cold laugh and slapped the document down on the coffee table. “Your name on the deed doesn’t mean you paid for it.” She froze, staring at me for a moment before a smirk spread across her face. “What’s this? Coming here to pick a fight? You’re a little late, aren’t you? Your husband is a pile of ash. Dead men tell no tales.” I watched her, my expression unreadable. “Claire, I remember the first time we met. You were just a girl from some small town in the mountains, so clueless you didn’t even know how to use an automatic faucet.” “Marcus took good care of you these past six years, didn’t he? Better than your own parents, I’d bet.” Sophia! You sharp-tongued bitch, what are you saying! Claire is just an innocent kid! Why does a bitter widow like you have to bully a young girl? My gaze grew colder, and Claire’s face flushed with anger. But she stuck to her story. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Stop making baseless accusations.” “Coming all the way here to harass me… don’t think I won’t call the police and have you arrested!” That’s right! Stick to that story! I’m dead now. She has no proof! I smiled. Those two traitors really were on the same wavelength. I pulled out the bank statements my lawyer had prepared, a detailed record of Marcus’s finances for the past six years. “You think I have no recourse just because you deny it? You keep saying this is your house. Then maybe you can explain this transfer of five hundred thousand dollars from Marcus’s account to the property developer?” Seeing the evidence in my hands, Claire finally broke. “Mrs. Kane, Marcus just felt sorry for me and my daughter! We had nowhere to live! He let us stay here, he said the house was ours! It was his dying wish! You can’t kick us out!” “And besides,” she added, “his parents know all about this.” What? Marcus’s parents knew he was cheating and approved of him buying a house for his mistress? “I’ll… I’ll call them right now! You have no right to make this decision!” 3 Less than half an hour later, Marcus’s parents arrived. They exchanged a look, and then, as if they’d planned it, they each grabbed one of my arms and started pulling me toward the door. “Sophia, we knew about this. Just drop it,” my father-in-law said. “Your only job right now is to take care of yourself and give our family a grandson. Don’t worry about anything else, you hear me?” my mother-in-law added. The absurdity of it all made me laugh. This family of self-righteous hypocrites was disgusting. “Let go of me, or I’m getting rid of this baby.” That made them release me. My mother-in-law adopted a patronizing tone. “Sophia, dear, we paid for this house. We just saw how hard it was for them, a mother and daughter all alone. Don’t overthink it.” “Marcus was Claire’s mentor. Isn’t it natural for him to help his mentee with her living situation?” I turned to Claire and gave her my ultimatum. “You have three days to return the five hundred thousand dollars for the house, plus the other eighty thousand he transferred to you over the years. Or I’ll see you in court.” His parents immediately jumped to her defense. “Sophia, you come back here! Our son gave her that house, it has nothing to do with you! What right do you have to take it back?” “Just because our son is dead, you think you can call the shots? Don’t think that baby in your belly makes you the queen!” My voice was calm as I delivered the final blow. “I have proof that Marcus was having an affair with Claire Han.” “Every penny Marcus spent on her was marital property. Do you think I can’t get it back?” “Claire,” I said, my eyes locking onto hers, “surely you know the basics. The law doesn’t protect mistresses.” Claire’s face was pale as she bit her lip, unable to say a word. I turned and walked away, leaving Marcus screaming in my head. I really underestimated this bitch! God damn it, just wait until I’m born! I’ll make you pay! Vile whore! I make good money, what’s wrong with supporting another woman? Every man cheats! You take back the house and make Claire and our daughter sleep on the street? You’re a monster! I ignored him and kept walking. As I got in my car, Marcus suddenly let out a sigh of relief. Good thing I already got that DNA test done with Claire’s kid. All she has to do is open my safe deposit box. The test will prove the kid is mine and entitle her to half my estate. Even if she takes the house and the money, Claire and our daughter will be fine. My hand froze on the ignition. The tears I had been holding back finally fell. No wonder his parents defended her. Her daughter was Marcus’s. And the cruelest joke of all? I’m a senior obstetrician at the local hospital. I was the one who delivered Claire’s daughter. Those two bastards deserved to burn in hell. 4 See? She’s crying. Still heartbroken over me. I knew she was just putting on a brave face. All this drama is just because she loves me too much. But it can’t be helped. The only person I’ll ever love is Claire. The way she looks at me with those innocent, adoring eyes… I can’t resist it. It’s a look Sophia could never learn. I wiped my tears away, my face twisting in disgust. Marcus’s nauseating monologue snapped me out of my grief. I drove home and immediately found our marriage certificate. Then, I said aloud, “Marcus was always so sneaky. I wonder what he might have hidden in a bank…” AHHHH! How did she guess again?! I left so little for Claire! Is she going to take it all? How can Sophia be so conniving? Claire, forget the house! Just go to the bank, get the DNA test from the safe deposit box! At least you can get half the estate for our daughter! I’ll find a way to get the rest back for you after I’m born! Hearing the panic in his voice, like an ant on a hot pan, lifted my spirits considerably. At the bank, I used Marcus’s death certificate and our marriage certificate to open his safe deposit box. I had prepared myself, but the sight of that DNA test result still stung. Sophia! You destroy that test and I swear to god I will kill you! The creature inside me was throwing a powerless tantrum. I deliberately held the paper near my belly… “If I tear this up, there will be no one left in the world who can prove the connection between Claire’s daughter and Marcus, right?” Nooo, that’s the only proof! Don’t tear it! I’ll kick you to death! I swear I’ll break your ribs! How pathetic. A fetus was threatening me? Right in front of him, I slowly tore the paper into tiny pieces. Then I took out a lighter and burned them to ash. “Don’t worry, Marcus,” I said calmly. “I won’t let your mistress get a single penny.” “And another thing. Why should a mistress and an illegitimate child get to live their lives out in the open?” What… what is she planning to do? Using Marcus’s work account, I forwarded proof of his affair with Claire to every single one of his colleagues. Then I went to the parent group for Claire’s daughter’s school and exposed her mother as a homewrecker. Soon, my phone was blowing up with calls from Claire. “Sophia, I know you hate me! Take it out on me, but my daughter is innocent! What kind of person hurts a child?” “You push me too far, and I swear I will drag you down with me!” My reply was ice-cold. “Your daughter’s private kindergarten costs over twenty thousand a year. My husband’s salary paid for that. You still think she’s innocent?” Claire treated her daughter like the most precious thing in the world. But did she know that when she was pregnant, I was pregnant too? Marcus had claimed to be child-free, that he hated kids. He threatened to divorce me unless I terminated the pregnancy. It turned out he just hated my child. Claire was screaming on the other end of the line. “Marcus gave me that money! It’s your own damn fault you couldn’t keep your man!” “How is my daughter supposed to show her face at school now?!” I scoffed. “You should have thought of that when you were sleeping with another woman’s husband.” “Claire, if you don’t return the money in three days, your daughter won’t just have trouble showing her face. Her only remaining legal guardian will be in jail.” Claire was hysterical, but Marcus had suddenly gone quiet. It’s fine. I pretended to be a loving husband to Sophia for years. She’ll definitely give birth to me. All I have to do is make sure she dies in childbirth, and all the assets will come back to me, the sole heir! Then I’ll arrange for Claire to adopt me, and our family can finally be together again! He must be out of options now. A small smile played on my lips as I drove to the hospital. I walked to the registration desk, my smile widening, and said the one sentence that would drive Marcus insane. “I’m here for an abortion.”

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The new homeless man was always staring at me. He was filthy, and I always tried to avoid him. But every day, he’d give me the weather forecast. On my birthday, he bought me a Happy Meal. He wasn’t a bad guy. I started helping him collect cans and bottles. The little money he made, he spent at a print shop. Curious, I followed him one day. He was printing missing person flyers. “If my Lulu were alive,” he said, his voice thick with sorrow, “she’d be about your age.” His daughter had been abducted by traffickers when she was three years old. 1 On my way home from work, a man in ragged clothes suddenly stepped in front of me. “Miss, could you tell me how to get to the Serenity Apartments?” He looked about fifty, but the lines etched on his face made him seem closer to seventy. His temples were completely white, and his eyes, though weary, were startlingly bright. It was strange. He looked every bit the part of a homeless man, but I wasn’t afraid. The place he was asking for was my apartment complex. I pointed him in the right direction. “Turn right at the intersection. You can’t miss it.” He grinned, a wide, genuine smile. “Thank you, miss. You’re a kind soul.” He walked faster than I did and reached the complex first. But he didn’t seem to know which apartment he was looking for. He just stood downstairs, staring blankly at the scattered lights in the windows. Winter arrived quickly. The days grew colder, the wind biting, but the old man stayed. He had made a home for himself in a small corner next to the garbage collection area, surviving by collecting recyclables. His daily meal was a bowl of the cheapest broth and noodles he could find. But he wasn’t lazy. He was often out late, returning long after dark. I never knew what he was so busy with. Our paths crossed so often that we slowly became familiar. If we met in the morning, he would remind me— “It’s getting cold. Wear an extra layer so you don’t catch a chill.” “It’s going to rain tomorrow. Don’t forget your umbrella.” I just thought he was a kind, chatty person. I’d always thank him as I passed. One day, he was carrying a huge armful of recyclables. The ground was slick, and he slipped, the bottles and cardboard scattering everywhere. I rushed over to help him up. “Are you okay?” He shook his head and immediately bent down to search for something among the debris. After a moment of frantic searching, the deep furrows in his brow finally smoothed out. I followed his gaze. He was carefully cradling a small rattle drum. It was old and plain, the kind you could find anywhere. The drum’s surface and handle were worn smooth by time. He wiped it clean with a gentle hand. I couldn’t help but ask, “Is that very precious to you?” He nodded. “This was Lulu’s favorite toy when she was little.” “Who’s Lulu?” “My daughter.” “Oh,” I said, my mind racing. How could a man with a child end up like this? As if sensing my question, he sighed. “Lulu was taken by traffickers when she was three.” I froze, the words not registering for a long moment. “I’ve been looking for her for over twenty years. Found nothing.” “I’ve been to every corner of this country. This is the last state I haven’t searched.” I asked dumbly, “So, all that work you do during the day is for…” “Yes,” he said. “To find Lulu.” In my confusion, I blurted out without thinking, “Doesn’t it cost a lot of money to look for a child? Can you really manage… doing this?” He understood my meaning and gave a bitter smile. “I had a job at first… but I was so desperate to find her…” “This is better, anyway. If I just sit in a room, the anxiety eats me alive.” “If I can’t find her, I’m always terrified that she’s suffering.” He seemed to be lost in a painful memory, his rough hand stroking the broken rattle drum over and over. 2 At lunch, I was eating on a bench in the hospital corridor. I glanced up and saw my parents again. They were standing outside the obstetrics department, listening intently to what a doctor was saying. They were nearly fifty, but they were still obsessed with having another child. I had asked them once, “You’ve been trying for ten years without success. Why keep pushing yourselves?” My parents’ faces were etched with a quiet sadness. “We just want to leave you with a brother or a sister.” But I didn’t need one. I had loving parents, a man I adored, and a promising career ahead of me. My life was full. I didn’t need anything else. I tossed my lunch and went back to work. When I got home that evening, my parents were both there, a feast spread across the table. My mother saw me and waved happily. “Luna, come here.” I sat down. “Mom, what’s got you so happy?” My father brought the last dish to the table. “The best news! Your mother’s pregnant!” Clatter. My chopsticks fell from my hand, landing on my bowl. After a brief, heavy silence, they spoke with a hint of guilt. “We’re sorry, Luna. Your mother just really wanted another baby.” After a long moment, I nodded, my face a blank mask. “As long as you’re happy. Are there any risks?” My mother’s joy returned. “They said no! I feel great!” “That’s good,” I said, my voice flat. I used to have a sister. My father told me about her. She died of an illness when she was three. My mother fell into a deep depression, which only lifted when I was born. For over twenty years, I had been the pride of our family. An Ivy League graduate, a doctor at one of the top hospitals in the country. I was, by all accounts, a success. But my sister’s death had left a scar on their hearts, one that could only be healed by the arrival of a new child. The rest of the meal was quiet. I tried to make conversation. “How’s the charity work going?” “Everything’s going well,” my father replied. “The donations have been increasing,” my mother added. “We’ve been able to help several more families who have lost their only child.” Growing up, my parents were rarely around. They were always traveling for work. When I was young and didn’t understand, I accused them of not loving me. They would just smile sadly. It wasn’t until I was older that I understood they were doing something more important than making money—they were helping thousands of parents find their abducted children. My old complaints faded away, replaced by a quiet sense of pride. 3 A few nights later, the streetlights on my way home were out. The path ahead was pitch black, and I had to use my phone’s flashlight to see. As I reached the entrance to my complex, the old man was waiting anxiously. When he saw me, he hurried over. “Why are you so late tonight? Did you run into trouble?” His concern seemed a little excessive, but I didn’t think much of it. “The streetlights are broken,” I explained. After that night, there was another set of footsteps on my walk home. At first, it scared me, but when I saw the familiar shadow, I relaxed. It was the old man. He kept a polite distance, escorting me to the entrance of the complex before we went our separate ways. The next day, as I was making breakfast, I paused and added a little extra to the pan. I found the old man and handed him a carton of milk and a sandwich. He looked surprised and stammered for a moment. I was about to miss my bus, so I just pushed the food into his hands and ran off. The old man started meeting me on my way home from work with a fresh apple or a small basket of sweet strawberries. We seemed to have fallen into a comfortable, unspoken routine. I gave him breakfast; he gave me fruit and snacks. It was never much, just a few dollars’ worth of things, but I knew it was all he could afford. On my days off, I would sometimes help him carry his recyclables to the collection center. He’d count the few dozen dollars he made, putting half away and using the other half to buy me a roasted sweet potato. I felt bad taking it, but he would just smile and say, “Go on, eat it. Just pretend I’m buying it for Lulu.” His devotion to his daughter was so deep. I had no choice but to accept. “Thank you, sir.” I broke the sweet potato in two and handed him half. He hesitated for a second before taking it. The sweet potato that day was incredible. So sweet that it would hold a special place in my memory for the rest of my life, a marker of a happy moment. After we ate, he asked me where he could find a print shop. I looked it up on my phone and took him there. He handed the owner a battered, old flash drive. “Hello. I’d like to print something.” The owner gave him a disdainful look. “How many copies?” The old man pulled a handful of crumpled bills and loose change from his pocket—nickels, dimes, quarters, ones, fives, tens, twenties… a small mountain of money. “Whatever this will buy.” The owner plugged the drive into his computer and stared at the single image on the screen. He looked at the old man, then turned and called to a younger employee. “Come count this.” Half an hour later, the printing was done. Stacks of paper were piled high on the floor. Four bold words were printed on every sheet: “HAVE YOU SEEN ME?” 4 It took me a moment to find my voice. “Are you sure you can hand out all of these?” The old man smiled. “I’m sure.” I picked up one of the stacks. It was heavy. My eyes scanned the dozen or so remaining piles. I took out my phone to call a cab. “It’s fine,” the old man said. “I’ll just make a few trips. It’ll keep me warm.” The owner glanced between the two of us and finally said, “Just leave them here. Come get them whenever you need them.” The old man was filled with gratitude. “Good people are blessed with good fortune,” he said, bowing his head. When we left the shop, we each had a stack of flyers in our hands. “I could have done this myself, you know,” the old man said with a weary smile. “It’s good exercise,” I replied, smiling back. We spent the afternoon handing out the flyers. The old man bought me a bottle of water. I didn’t refuse. We sat on a curb, and I asked him, “Did you spend all your money on the printing?” He shook his head. “I saved a little. Put it on a card.” I watched the traffic go by. “Why don’t you spend some on yourself?” I asked softly. “Eat better, get some warmer clothes… a better place to stay.” “I’m all alone. It doesn’t matter where I live,” he said. “I’m saving it for Lulu.” I looked at his weathered face and felt a pang of sadness. “What if… what if you can’t find her?” His expression didn’t change. Perhaps he had cried all his tears long ago. “If I can’t find her, I’ll donate it.” I took a deep breath. “You won’t have to,” I said, trying to comfort him. “You said it yourself. Good people are blessed with good fortune.” After a moment, he pulled a notebook from his army-green coat. It was falling apart, the cover long gone. The edges were held together with layers of tape. He opened it. “Lulu was taken on her third birthday.” He pointed to a simple drawing on the first page. “She was always asking for a family portrait on the phone.” “I was busy with work, no time to go home. So I drew one for her.” “I was going to give it to her for her birthday…” The lines in the drawing were shaky, retraced several times to get them right. The following pages were filled with portraits of a little girl. The drawings became more skilled over time, but the girl’s features grew blurrier and blurrier. The old man’s gaze fell on the last drawing. “I’ve never seen Lulu grown up,” he whispered. “I can’t imagine what she looks like.” A lump formed in my throat. I didn’t dare speak. He turned another page, revealing years of calendars. In the early years, each day was filled with words. “Lulu, Daddy saw a girl today who looked just like you. Her eyes, her nose, her mouth… only her hands were different. If you were grown up, you would be even more beautiful.” “Today is my last day in Nevada. I’ve spent a year here and found no trace of you. Tomorrow, I’m going to Oregon. Will you be there?” Later, the entries grew shorter. “Searched all of Florida. No Lulu. Next stop, Georgia.” The following year, he had crossed out that entry in red ink and written a new one: “Lulu, Dad misses you.” I couldn’t bring myself to read any more. I covered my face, unable to speak. The old man’s sighs came one after another, heavy with sorrow.

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The day the pork stamp was pressed against my cheek, I was reborn. It was a joke, a little prank from Lucas’s young secretary during what was meant to be our seventh-anniversary dinner. She was pouring me a glass of wine when she did it, laughing as the greasy, purple ink branded my skin. This time, I didn’t slap her like I did in my last life. And I didn’t scream at Lucas like a madwoman, demanding a divorce when he rushed to her defense. Instead, I just smiled at him, a calm, serene little smile. “She’s really something, isn’t she? You two have fun.” I picked up my purse. “Let’s just consider our anniversary celebration officially over. I’m heading home.” I walked out of that private dining room without a backward glance. What else could I do? The last time I divorced Lucas, my life became a living hell. He crushed me with the same ruthless precision he used on his business rivals, holding onto every asset with a death grip. I consulted every lawyer in the city and walked away with a grand total of forty-eight dollars. Right after the divorce, I was diagnosed with cancer. When the pain became unbearable, I swallowed my pride and went to him, kneeling at his feet. But he just stood there, letting his new secretary slap me three times across the face before turning me away without a single cent. Broke and alone, I froze to death on the doorstep of the house we had shared for seven years. So no, dignity is not more important than life. 1 I didn’t expect him to follow me out. He grabbed my arm, his grip tight. “Sophie, let me explain. Jenna is just young and playful. She thought the pork stamp would be a funny way to break the ice.” “She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body,” he continued, his voice softening. “We grew up together. She’s always been a little mischief-maker, and since you’re my wife, she probably just got a little too comfortable and forgot her boundaries. Don’t be angry with her.” He’d said the exact same thing in my last life. Back then, humiliated and shaking with rage, his gentle defense of another woman had been the final straw. In front of all our friends, I had slapped him across the face, screamed the word “divorce,” and stormed out. I was so naive then, thinking the threat of leaving him actually meant something. I walked the streets for four hours in a cold, miserable winter drizzle, tears streaming down my face. My heels rubbed my ankles raw until they bled. I caught a fever that spiked to 104 degrees. And as I lay in our bed, shivering and sick, Lucas never called. He didn’t even try to find me. Instead, he and Jenna flew to Europe on a business trip that very night. Pictures of him adjusting the strap of her cocktail dress, of her leaning in to kiss his cheek, were all over his company’s gossip forums. The memory was so bitterly ironic that a small, mocking smile touched my lips. That smile seemed to snap something in him. He suddenly shoved my hand away, his voice sharp with anger. “How many times do I have to tell you? Jenna is the daughter of my dad’s old friend. I’m just looking out for her.” “It was a stupid pork stamp. Go home and wash it off. Can you stop being so ridiculously jealous and making up stories about us in your head?” The sudden fury on his face sent a familiar ache through my chest. But the pain wasn’t for him. It was for the woman I used to be. In my last life, I had pancreatic cancer, one of the most agonizing forms of the disease. My days were a blur of nurses jabbing me with long needles, leaving me a sniffling, tear-streaked mess. At night, I would curl into a ball on the floor, clutching my stomach, sobbing and praying for a quick death. When I ran out of money, I’d take a fruit knife and cut into my own emaciated flesh, just hoping the new pain would offer a moment’s distraction, a chance for a full night’s sleep. Even then, even in that state, I couldn’t bring myself to sell our wedding rings for another dose of painkillers. When the doctor told me I had a month to live, I dragged my skeletal frame to his house, planning to beg him to take me back. He had sworn, after my parents died, that he would take care of me for the rest of my life. I finally found my way back to the home we’d shared for seven years. I had to kneel and beg the security guard just to get him to call Lucas for me. When he answered, I barely managed to whisper his name before he cut me off, his voice flat and cold. “Sophie, we’re divorced. That means we have nothing to do with each other anymore. Whatever is happening in your life, don’t call me again.” He hung up. I collapsed in the backyard of that sprawling mansion. In the final moments of my life, as my vision faded, I saw him through the window. He was holding Jenna, laughing in the home I had so carefully decorated, drinking from the wine glasses I had chosen, sharing a sweet, intimate kiss. The memory was a suffocating weight. I pushed it down, forcing the smile back onto my face. “Lucas, I’m really not jealous. And I’m not mad at Jenna,” I said, my voice even. “I’m just tired and I want to go home. You should go back inside.” Surprise flickered across his face. While he was still processing my words, I turned and walked away without another glance. 2 The first thing I did when I got home was go to my room, lock the door, and call the hospital. I booked an appointment for a full check-up with a top specialist for the next morning. Whether it was this life or the last, all I ever wanted was to live. I had just hung up when Lucas came home. I didn’t know he’d be back so soon. He was yanking at his tie, his face a mask of irritation. “What was that on the street just now?” he demanded. “Sophie, can you stop pulling a long face over every little thing?” Ever since Jenna had become his secretary, he had become relentlessly critical of me. Nothing I did was ever right. It was his sudden change in attitude, coupled with Jenna’s constant provocations, that had driven me to madness in our last marriage. I suppressed the suffocating pain in my chest and turned to face him calmly. “Lucas, believe it or not, I’m not angry. I’m not trying to cause a scene, and I’m not giving you the silent treatment.” I gestured to my face. “See? The pork stamp is all washed off. I’m not holding a grudge against you, and I certainly don’t have the energy to hold one against Jenna.” Without waiting for a reply, I turned and locked myself in the bathroom. When I came out, Lucas was gone. But my phone was blowing up. It was Jenna’s signature move. Whenever she was with him, she would bombard me with photos of them together, treating my inbox like her personal photo dump. In my past life, her pictures would send me into fits of tears or rages that I’d take out on Lucas. This time, I looked at the photo she sent and typed a reply. I wasn’t insulting. In fact, I was very sincere. “You’re holding the phone at the wrong angle,” I wrote. “Lucas’s profile is his better side. Try holding it higher next time.” “Also, there’s too much empty space in the shot. Crop it tighter so you two look closer, more intimate.” A reply came back almost instantly. “Did someone hack your account?” I sent her a smiling emoji. “Nope. Just wanted to let you know, he’s all yours.” Then, I blocked her number. This new arrangement worked for me. I’d keep the title of Mrs. Hayes and the supplementary credit card. Jenna could have his body and his time. It was a much better deal than the one I’d fought for last time, when all I’d foolishly wanted was his love. 3 After dealing with Jenna, I lay down and closed my eyes. But even with a second chance at life, sleep didn’t come easily. Just like when I was sick, my dreams were haunted by our past. When we were kids, Lucas was painfully shy and introverted. His mother, a renowned teacher, was relentlessly hard on him. She would beat him for every mistake. I remember seeing him late at night, sometimes midnight when I’d already been asleep for hours, hunched over his desk under the harsh glare of a lamp. He’d be wearing his thick glasses, scribbling away at worksheets while his mother stood over him with a cane, bringing it down hard on his back for every wrong answer. I lived across the street, and it broke my heart to watch. So, whenever I got a piece of candy, I would secretly slip it into his backpack on the way to school. “Lucas,” I’d whisper with a smile, “eat one when your back hurts.” The first time I did it, his face turned beet red. He waited until I was a hundred feet away before mumbling, “I… I don’t eat candy.” I just waved back at him. “You should talk more, Lucas. You have a really nice voice.” It became our ritual. The quiet, solitary Lucas started waiting for me on the walk to school, waiting for me to slip a piece of candy into his bag. We walked that little alleyway outside our neighborhood through countless springs, summers, and winters. Then came our high school graduation. Lucas, the valedictorian, was heading to a top university. He awkwardly handed me a brochure for another school. “I looked it up,” he stammered, pushing his glasses up his nose. “It’s only a ten-minute walk from my campus. Your scores aren’t high enough for a four-year degree, but you could get into their two-year program.” Looking at his earnest, nervous face, I didn’t have the heart to tell him that my parents had already decided I would go to a four-year university, even a lesser-known one. They said they could afford it. So, I secretly changed my application, against their wishes. The decision earned me a tag-team lecture from both of them, but I never regretted it. We went to college in the same city. Away from his mother, Lucas blossomed. He swapped his thick glasses for contacts, grew out his buzz cut into soft curls, and traded his plaid shirts for crisp, white button-downs. His ever-present black sneakers were replaced with stylish white ones. I had no idea what prompted the change until one day, I was squealing with excitement because my favorite band was coming to town. Lucas grabbed my arm, his eyes red-rimmed. “I changed everything to be the person you’d like,” he said, his voice trembling. “Is it still not enough to make you like me back?” The word “like” hit me like a physical blow. Even though we were at different schools, I knew about the legend of Lucas Hayes. He was a programming prodigy, winning national competitions as a freshman and landing offers from major tech firms by his sophomore year. A group of girls had even started an online forum dedicated to documenting his transformation. I always thought there was an ocean between us, that we would never be more than friends. But here he was, telling me he liked me. Never one to be shy, I stood on my toes and kissed him. We started dating. My main role, as I saw it, was to supply him with a steady stream of my favorite milk teas, desserts, and pastries. I had no life plan; my days revolved around what to feed Lucas, where to take him, what to do for fun. Meanwhile, his life continued its meteoric rise. He started his own company while in grad school, secured multiple rounds of funding right after, and by the time he finished his PhD, his tech firm was in the top ten in the country. My life, in stark contrast, felt cursed. I failed the exam to transfer to a four-year program. After graduation, I lived entirely off the allowance Lucas gave me. Then, in my second year out of college, my parents, who had always doted on me, were rushing to see me in the hospital for a bout of pneumonia when they were killed in a car crash. I was an orphan. I clung to their bodies, my tears soaking through the sterile white sheets. And Lucas knelt beside me, in front of them, and under the cold, disapproving gaze of his mother, he swore he would take care of me for the rest of my life. We got married. I had multiple miscarriages, losing every pregnancy. Then, he met Jenna. He started to find fault with me. I was shallow, he said. All I ever did was ask him what he wanted to eat or drink. I wasn’t like Jenna, who could discuss world-famous paintings with him, who could debate the future of the tech industry. Tears welled in my eyes. I blinked them open to find the room filled with morning light. Just like in my last life, my pillow was soaked through. Just then, a text from Lucas came through. We’re visiting my mom at the nursing home this afternoon. 4 I looked at the message and replied calmly: I have something on today. Can’t make it. His call came instantly. “What do you have on today?” he demanded. “Sophie, how many times do I have to tell you there’s nothing going on between me and Jenna? Why do you have to keep harping on this one little thing?” A bitter smile touched my lips. Ever since his company took off, Lucas had become a man of few words. For him to circle back to the same topic over and over… was he trying to convince himself he wasn’t interested in Jenna, or was he just trying to ease his own guilt? A shiver of pain went through me, but my voice was steady. “Lucas, I don’t feel well. I have a hospital appointment. I really can’t go with you to see your mom today.” “Besides,” I added, “she has a heart condition, and she’s never liked me. Isn’t it better if I don’t go and upset her? And doesn’t she adore Jenna? She’s always saying that only someone of Jenna’s status is good enough for you. Why don’t you take her instead?” I genuinely thought I was offering a reasonable solution. But it only made him angrier. “Fine, Sophie. Keep playing your games.” He hung up. Listening to the dial tone, I let out another small, humorless laugh. See? That was the difference between being loved and not being loved. The old Lucas, the one who loved me, would panic at the slightest hint of sadness on my face, asking frantically what he’d done wrong. The Lucas of today, the one who didn’t love me, heard a sincere suggestion and still thought I was just trying to stir up trouble. 5 The ache in my chest was a familiar weight, but I didn’t let it delay me. I went straight to the hospital. I deliberately left my phone at home, afraid that another call would ruin my mood. This check-up was too important. It would determine whether or not I was destined to repeat the fate of my past life. For the next seven days, I stayed at the hospital, undergoing biopsies, blood tests, and endless scans. I had to thank Lucas’s reputation—and his bank account—for the quality of my care. By dropping his name, I was able to see a specialist who, in my last life, I had waited a month just to get an appointment with. Now, he saw me first on his rounds every single morning. In my past life, I’d had to sell my bags and jewelry to afford treatment. I had no special access, which meant a new trip to the hospital for every test, waiting two hours for a blood draw, a week for a CT scan. This time, thanks to Lucas, I just had to lie in a VIP room while nurses came to me. The news was good. And bad. I did have cancer, but it was in its earliest stages. When the doctor told me, his face was full of pity. I, on the other hand, burst into tears, my body shaking uncontrollably. Everyone assumed I was terrified. Only I knew they were tears of joy. I finally had a chance to live. I checked into the hospital that same day to begin treatment. I was confident I could beat it. This time, I had money, the best doctors, and the best medicine. Chemotherapy was still hell, but because it was early-stage, the drugs were less aggressive. They were imported, a world away from the generic drugs with their brutal side effects I’d endured last time. Other than losing my hair and some weight, I felt surprisingly good. I had enough energy for a walk every day. And thanks to the medication, I never once felt the searing, unbearable pain of advanced pancreatic cancer. After a month of treatment, my doctor gave me even more hope. He said that after two more rounds of chemo, there was a high probability I could go home. It was a tiny spark that ignited a fire in my soul. In my last life, my only dream was to be cured, to live. But just as I was about to pay for my third round of treatment, the hospital informed me that my supplementary card had been declined. The account was frozen. When the nurse told me, I remained calm. As long as we were still married, Lucas was legally obligated to pay for my medical care. I asked the nurse for a day pass and took a cab to his office. The receptionist stopped me at the door. “I’m sorry, miss, but you need an appointment to see Mr. Hayes.” I gave her a small smile and pulled my marriage certificate out of my purse. “Does this count as an appointment?” She took one look at it and shot to her feet. “My apologies, Mrs. Hayes. I didn’t recognize you.” I just nodded and followed her to the elevator. As we passed through the open-plan office, I could feel eyes on me. I knew I looked a sight: bald, with a thick down jacket thrown over my hospital gown. But I felt no shame. In my last life, after the divorce, I had come here to beg him for money. I never even made it past the front door. Back then, all I had was a divorce certificate. This time, I had proof of marriage.

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A photo of me and Chloe Thorne went viral overnight. In it, we’re wearing our blue and white school uniforms, standing side-by-side, throwing up peace signs. Attached is a photo of the grade rankings: Chloe is #1, I am #2. A netizen commented: [There’s zero romance in their eyes. Just pure determination to study the other one to death.] I’ve been crushed by Chloe for ten years. I thought I was doomed to be the eternal runner-up. Until one day, I woke up… And realized I’m the villainous male side character in a high school romance novel. And Chloe is the female lead. Realizing this didn’t make me sad at all. I knew my chance had come! I’m going to be number one! 1 I’ve been second to Chloe Thorne for a decade. Every exam, I’m exactly one rank behind her. I am the eternal runner-up on the honor roll. Then one day, while napping on my desk during a break, I gained sentience. I discovered I’m the villainous side character in a YA romance novel. In the story, I wreak havoc to sabotage the romance between the female lead and the male lead, eventually getting myself expelled. The female lead and the transfer student male lead, after “overcoming” the obstacle that is me, successfully get together. However, their grades slip due to dating, and their families force them apart. To save the male lead from his abusive father, the female lead intentionally misses the SATs, repeats a year with him, and they both get into their dream university, living happily ever after. The heroine of this story is Chloe Thorne, the girl who always beats me. After waking up, I sat up straight and glanced at Chloe, who was chatting with the person in front of her in the next row. The world is going to hell. How can this old rival be the heroine? But it doesn’t matter. In the novel, the male lead is supposed to transfer to our class in the next few days. His arrival marks the beginning of my bright future. As long as I refuse to play the villain, I won’t be affected by their plot. I can defeat Chloe and finally become number one! My excitement lasted almost the entire day. Just thinking about my upcoming comeback made it hard to control my facial expressions. That evening, walking home with Chloe, I didn’t bother suppressing my glee. Chloe’s face remained neutral, but she was speed-walking like an Olympian. Our moms are best friends, and we live directly across the street from each other. Before entering her house, she looked at me like I was an idiot, then quickly slammed the door. After dinner, I got a text from my buddy, Mike: “Bro, you’re a legend!” Attached was a link to a video I posted on social media a few days ago when the midterm results came out. The video contained only two images. One was a screenshot of me and Chloe, the other was the midterm ranking list. No caption, but the netizens understood me perfectly. “There’s zero romance in their eyes. Just pure determination to study the other one to death.” “The girl is even holding a pen in the photo.” “When is the guy gonna assassinate the girl to take first place?” I liked the comment about assassination. Soon. 2 The male lead transferred to our class the next day. When he introduced himself as Julian Summerfield, I knew it. He was the one. My dream wasn’t baseless; this was all real. Just like in the novel, Julian was seated next to Chloe. I sat diagonally behind Chloe. A slight turn of my head, and I could see their backs. On the first day, Julian probably hadn’t received his new textbooks yet. Chloe placed her worksheet between their desks so they could share. The math teacher was explaining a crucial concept. Both of them lowered their heads simultaneously to look at the problem. They looked up at the same time, finding their faces inches apart. Realizing the awkwardness, both quickly sat up straight. I couldn’t see their expressions, but I clearly saw Julian awkwardly bring a fist to his mouth and cough lightly. And Chloe’s ears and neck turned bright red. A strange feeling bubbled up inside me. I steadied myself and looked away. This is what I wanted, right? Ethan Vance, stop looking at women! Focus on studying! I took a deep breath and forced my attention to the blackboard. After the first period, several girls gathered around Julian’s desk. I glanced over. Two of them were the “artsy” girls in our class, known for partying and dating around. The male lead is handsome; naturally, he attracted their attention. Suddenly surrounded, Julian looked overwhelmed in his seat. As the class monitor, I was about to go over and maintain order, but I saw Chloe returning from the bathroom and stepping in front of Julian. “Nothing better to do? I just saw Mr. Davis in the lobby, heading this way.” Hearing the homeroom teacher was coming, the girls scattered back to their seats. Julian smiled shyly at Chloe in gratitude. I sheepishly pulled back the leg I was about to step forward with. A moment later, Mr. Davis did appear at the door. But he didn’t come in. Instead, he waved me over to the office to check some files. Standing in the office, mechanically searching through a stack of papers for my classmates’ tests… My mind was filled with the image from earlier: the girl in the blue and white uniform, backlit by the window, shielding the anxious boy behind her. And the boy looking at her with eyes full of gratitude and shyness. That must be what liking someone looks like. Sure enough, the male and female leads are destined to attract each other. It’s only the first day, and they’re already like positive and negative poles, rapidly closing the distance. I looked at the answer sheet I had absentmindedly flipped through and shook my head, trying to shake those unwanted emotions out of my brain. Walking home with Chloe that night, I was unusually silent, contrary to my usual chatterbox self. Surprisingly, Chloe, usually the listener, spoke first. “What’s wrong today? Something on your mind?” I looked up into her confused and concerned eyes. What should I say? That what I’m thinking about has to do with her? Growing up together for over ten years, this was the first time I hesitated to speak to her. After thinking for a while, I could only ask indirectly. “What do you think… of Julian Summerfield?” A flicker of confusion passed through Chloe’s eyes. “Why ask about him?” “Oh, you know, I’m the class monitor. Gotta get to know the classmates, makes communication easier later.” I lied with a laugh, but Chloe nodded understandingly. “Him? He’s nice. A very quiet guy.” It was a neutral comment, but my heart sank inexplicably. Freshman year, our parents suspected us of dating early. We sat between our two dads explaining for nearly an afternoon. But because Chloe said, “How could I like Ethan Vance? If I liked anyone, it would be a quiet guy.” I punched her several times right in front of our parents. That was also when the slight flutter in my adolescent heart for her was strangled in the cradle. My feelings for her were complicated. At least, I couldn’t figure them out myself. We were just childhood friends who grew up bickering. So why am I so sad right now? I didn’t speak again the whole way. She just walked quietly beside me. When we parted ways at our doors, she hesitated, then just said one thing. “See you tomorrow.” 3 Julian successfully integrated into the class. He was beautiful, kind, and had a great personality. Everyone liked him. Even I had to admit, he was a good guy. No wonder Chloe, usually so picky, liked him so much. Without my interference this time, their relationship would probably progress faster. And it did. In just a few days, the way Julian looked at Chloe changed noticeably. Julian wasn’t great at math, so Mr. Davis asked Chloe, his desk mate, to help tutor him. During that time, besides breaks, Chloe would stay late after school to tutor Julian in math. For several days, our walk home changed from the two of us to just me. I tried desperately to ignore the strange feeling in my heart. Studying until midnight every day, waking up at 5:30 AM sharp, washing up, breakfast, school. Being extremely busy seemed to make me forget the loss. Until a week later at dismissal, Chloe rarely rejected Julian’s tutoring request, quickly packed her bag, and ran to me. “Let’s go! Got my allowance today, treating you to hotpot.” I looked at her blankly. “Don’t you need to tutor him today?” Almost the instant the words left my mouth, I regretted it. What does it matter to me what she does? I sounded jealous. But Chloe didn’t mind at all, still smiling at me. “I don’t have to tutor him every day. I taught him what he needed. From now on, I can walk home with you every day again.” Seeing her smiling eyes, I was stunned for a moment. “O-okay. I’m on cleaning duty today, wait for me a sec.” Chloe wordlessly helped me with most of the work, grabbed her bag, and left the classroom with me. On the way, we happily discussed ordering two plates of beef brisket and a plate of shrimp paste. Just out of the school gate, we passed a secluded alley. It was the route Chloe and I took to school every day. Usually quiet. But today, from a distance, I heard voices and a boy crying. Exchanging a glance with Chloe, we simultaneously quickened our pace. At the alley entrance, we saw several hooligans surrounding a boy in our uniform. It was Julian. Seeing them getting handsy, Chloe charged straight in. She grabbed the wrist of a blond punk trying to touch him. “Ah! Hurt! Are you crazy? Let go of me!” Amidst the blond’s wailing, the others quickly surrounded me and Chloe. “Yo, another handsome guy? How about you play with us sisters, and we’ll let you go?” One of them scanned me up and down, whistling flirtatiously. Chloe grabbed her collar and lifted her up. The others moved to help, but I kicked out. To prevent us from being bullied, our parents sent us to learn kickboxing from a young age. We weren’t pros, but dealing with a few punks was more than enough. Soon, we had them on the ground. Except one didn’t fight fair, pulling a knife and slashing my arm. Chloe’s eyes turned red with rage. She picked that person up to punch them again, but I stopped her. That night, accompanied by Chloe and Julian, I went to the hospital to get stitched up. On the way, Julian kept thanking us. He was thanking both of us, but the way he looked at Chloe held something different. Admiration, and worship. In the end, we didn’t get hotpot. The doctor said my wound wasn’t serious but I needed to eat bland food. Chloe and I got home after 8 PM. My mom nagged me for an hour about the wound on my arm. 4 For a while after that, Julian was obviously more attentive to Chloe. When Chloe played basketball, he waited in the crowd to give her water. I don’t know if Chloe accepted it, but everyone could see Julian liked Chloe. Chloe herself didn’t react much to it. I studied desperately, moving only between school and home, squeezing out every second to learn. But sometimes, my brain uncontrollably thought about Chloe. That face, always gentle with me, only frowning even when angry, visited my dreams more and more frequently. Before, I didn’t want to admit it. But now, I clearly realized I really liked Chloe. But she’s the female lead. Destined to be with the male lead. And I’m just the villainous side character. Villains who like the heroine never have a good ending.

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I have a thing for possessive, controlling relationships. Sebastian Thorne, a master of this game, captured my heart. He was cold, distant, and always got his way. Until the day I told him I wanted to find a good man and settle down. On the surface, he was calm and indifferent. But that night, he tied me to the bed, crying and insisting he was a good man too. He claimed I ruined him. “If you didn’t like it like this, why would I do it? Who would want me now? I’m used goods! You ruined me! You played with my feelings! You’re fickle! It’s you! It’s all you!” Me: “…” 1 I am a classic “gold canary.” On the surface, I look weak and easily bullied. In reality, I am weak and easily bullied. [Clothes sent. Change into them. Driver will pick you up.] I stared at the message on my phone. I rolled around on the bed. That tone of notification, that unquestionable attitude, that cold message. I opened the package he sent. His taste was as extravagant as ever: luxurious dresses and blinding jewelry. I buried my face deep in the clothes and inhaled. So tacky. I love it. I typed back weakly: [Sebastian, I don’t like these.] [Put them on.] My heart pounded. So domineering. I love it even more. 2 Sebastian’s various business banquets couldn’t do without my assistance. Even though everyone said I was just a vase with beauty but no brains, offering no help to Sebastian. Whenever this happened, I would rest my chin on my hand, stare at the person until they were uncomfortable, and then ask cheekily, “So let me ask you, am I beautiful?” The person would look flustered but had to nod reluctantly and admit it. That’s enough then. The number one vase in the entertainment industry, with beauty but no substance, irreplaceable. Sebastian Thorne is lucky to have me. And he’s rich, handsome, and good at being controlling. If any of these conditions were missing, I might not have become his gold canary. 3 Sebastian stood at the entrance waiting for me to get out of the car. I lifted my skirt and walked over cheerfully, braking suddenly to change my expression, almost forgetting to control my face. I frowned slightly, squeezed out two tears, looking sentimental. “Sebastian.” Sebastian didn’t spare me a glance. “Let’s go.” As expected, cold and distant. He extended his hand just now but pulled it back. I assumed he was shocked speechless by my beauty and remembered his identity as my sugar daddy. After all, as a sugar daddy, it would be losing face to personally take care of a canary. I went up and took his arm. Entering the hall, everyone’s expressions varied. Some came over to curry favor with Sebastian, not forgetting to compliment me beside him. “Miss Winters is young and beautiful, gentle and considerate. She looks very compatible with Mr. Thorne.” Maybe they ran out of words. Using the word “compatible” made me fear Sebastian would bankrupt them with a single sentence. The person couldn’t read Sebastian’s expression and could only force themselves to praise my successful career. Successful career… he really knows how to praise. I’m a D-list celebrity, and the two variety show gigs I got were resources Sebastian threw my way. So I pursed my lips and smiled: “You really know how to talk.” Sebastian glanced at me lightly. I understood. This meant shut up. During the break, I hid on the second-floor balcony, bored, looking at the scenery outside the railing. Being rich is nice. A little breeze, a little view, a little coffee. “Willow Winters!” I turned around and saw a cute and playful girl gritting her teeth and staring at me. She said angrily: “You’re very proud, aren’t you?” What do you mean? I gestured for her to continue. “Don’t think just because you’re with Sebastian now, you can be with him forever. Whenever I want, Sebastian can kick you out anytime!” I remembered. It’s said Sebastian had a childhood sweetheart. Their families were close enough to arrange a marriage, but Sebastian wasn’t interested in her. Obviously, he’s more interested in a glamorous vase like me. “You like Sebastian?” Lily Moon blushed. “What nonsense are you talking about!” “You like Sebastian, but you have no chance.” Lily was shy just now, but hearing this, her face darkened. “Who do you think you are? Just a sell-out. Do you really think Sebastian takes you seriously? Believe it or not, I can make him blacklist you right now!” Such ugly words. I slapped her. Slap! She covered her face in disbelief. Why would I need Sebastian to take me seriously? “Your brother cares about looks,” I smiled, pointing to my face. “He likes this face. You can get plastic surgery to look like this. If you have a dirty mouth again, ten slaps.” Besides, being weak and easily bullied presupposes Sebastian is present. Strike the heart. Lily screamed and tried to tear my face. The commotion here attracted people. Sebastian and another young man walked over. Lily cried instantly, throwing herself into Sebastian’s arms saying I bullied her and asking him to kick me out. The innocent rich girl and the cold, domineering CEO standing together indeed had a special flavor. Sebastian pushed her aside. Looked at me. I looked back at him. After a while, a tear fell, and I turned my head away. That tear hit the soft carpet silently. Sebastian stepped forward and took my hand, took off his jacket, and draped it over me. The jacket had his faint scent. “Put it on.” I was surprised and tried to struggle, but Sebastian was too strong. Sebastian frowned: “Don’t move.” I quieted down. My eyes were still red. Sebastian touched my face with his hand. I instinctively dodged. He froze for a second, then unquestioningly turned my face back. The thin calluses on his fingertips hurt my cheek a little. I hissed. Gently stepped on his foot. Sebastian was expressionless, ordered the driver to take me back, and took the screaming Lily downstairs himself. The young man beside him raised an eyebrow slightly. I glanced at him preparing to leave. As we passed each other, a business card fell precisely into my bag. 4 Poaching right in front of Sebastian. Very bold. As soon as Sebastian came back, I crumpled the card and threw it in the trash. He loosened his tie, pulled me from the sofa, and kissed me fiercely and urgently. A messy kiss. “Sebastian.” I was bitten a bit painfully, wanted to push him away, but couldn’t. Sebastian’s eyes were deep. When he stared down, I actually felt my scalp tingle. “You cried today.” I recalled. I did squeeze out two crocodile tears when battling tea skills with Lily today. I opened my mouth to pretend to be pitiful again. Sebastian: “Cry again.” Me: “…” He seemed to find it interesting, his thumb rubbing my face constantly. “Cry.” I blinked desperately, eyes red, forcing out a bit of tears. Sebastian was satisfied. “Beautiful.” A concise psycho.

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I always thought my movie star husband treated our marriage more as a responsibility than a romance. He was steady, quiet, and never whispered sweet nothings to me. Until one late night, I was scrolling through Reddit and saw a “whiny husband” post getting roasted for hundreds of comments. I clicked on the profile— Wait, isn’t that profile picture our cat? 1 [I feel like my cat is manipulative. What do I do?] [My wife is a software engineer, and I’m somewhat of a freelancer. We have a cat. Because my wife is a programmer, her salary is very high, and she’s busy and works overtime a lot. As soon as she gets home, the cat clings to her, and my wife only pets the cat and ignores me. During the day, the cat just sleeps all day, but the moment my wife gets off work, it perks up. My wife is a programmer; she’s incredibly smart and kind, so she can’t see through the cat’s schemes.] When I stumbled upon this hot post in the Relationship Advice subreddit, I felt my brain cells expanding. This guy is crazy. Getting jealous of a cat? I glanced across the living room at Liam Thorne, who was currently holding our cat and brushing its fur. I thought to myself, My Liam is still the best. Although he’s usually cool and distant, for day-to-day life, this is actually quite nice. I continued scrolling down the post. Sure enough, the OP (Original Poster) was being roasted in hundreds of comments. And his replies were even funnier than the original post. 2 [Why emphasize that she’s a programmer?] [OP’s Reply: I didn’t mean to emphasize it, I’m just sensitive. I studied abroad when I was young and later went to art school, but my wife is a programmer at a Big Tech company, and she was the top scorer in her state for the SATs that year. Even though my education isn’t as good as my wife’s, she definitely still loves me more than the cat. This psychological gap just makes it inevitable that the cat feels a bit hostile towards me.] The OP’s wife really sounds like me, but our husbands’ personalities are worlds apart. I couldn’t help but feel a bit of schadenfreude. [Big Tech… programmer…? Unless you say your wife is a C-suite executive at Google, I can maybe slightly understand your overflowing superiority complex.] [OP’s Reply: My wife is an Algorithm Engineer.] What’s wrong with being an Algorithm Engineer? I am one. Doesn’t change the fact that I code overtime every day. But hey, us code monkeys are moving up in the world if whiny husbands are clinging to us now. I laughed out loud reading this. [It is well known that intelligence is not sexually transmitted.] [OP’s Reply: But we’re married. I knew before posting that people on Reddit would be jealous of me, but reality is reality. This is human nature.] This OP is truly invincible. I laughed until I was dizzy, preparing to turn off my phone and sleep. Before closing it, I habitually clicked on the OP’s profile picture for a look. But with just this one look, I completely froze. —Why does this cat look exactly like my cat, C++? 3 Liam and I met through a mutual friend. I’m a programmer; he’s an A-list movie star. Logically, our paths should never have crossed. But rumor had it his family was forcing him to marry at the time, so I lucked out. You know how it is when there’s an inheritance involved. After getting the marriage certificate, I very consciously told Liam that we absolutely didn’t need to go public. His career came first. Because of this, his agent, Claire, has always been very warm towards me. Although my movie star husband is usually cool and distant, I’m no longer a little girl chasing sweet romance. For a corporate slave exhausted in body and mind every day, Liam is simply the perfect husband. He has a face so handsome it angers the gods, and a body with pecs and abs that are top-tier. I can eat an extra bowl of rice just looking at his face when I get home from overtime. Not to mention he’s a neat freak and dislikes outsiders, so he handles almost all the housework alone. Before marriage, I often ate irregularly due to work pressure. After marriage, all that was fixed, and I even lost less hair. Liam is perfect, except for sometimes being a bit too much for me to handle in bed. As for being cold and quiet towards me, that’s barely an issue. But I absolutely, one hundred percent do not believe he would go on Reddit and post those “whiny husband” comments. Did I recognize the wrong cat? 4 I wanted to find more clues from that account’s profile, but Liam, fresh from the shower, got into bed. “Honey, slow down… my waist from sitting all day can’t compare to your daily workouts… mmm…” When I’m enjoying it, I often call out “Honey” and “Baby” randomly, but Liam is different. He never says anything in bed, only occasional low pants. I used to suspect if, in Liam’s eyes, this was just a marital duty he had to fulfill? Later, I stopped thinking about it. After all, it’s not like I wasn’t enjoying myself. Worthy of being the man consistently ranked number one on the “Must-Sleep Male Actors” list. After it was over, I was basically delirious. In a daze, I heard Liam say that Lucas wanted to visit tomorrow and asked if I was okay with it. Lucas is the friend who introduced us. Without thinking, I said, “Sure, come over. I probably won’t be working overtime tomorrow.” Liam paused noticeably, then nodded expressionlessly. For some reason, I thought of that Reddit post again. Although I completely didn’t think the OP was Liam, I still subconsciously hugged his waist and buried my head in his chest. “I saw videos online of influencers filming skits about getting jealous of their pets… luckily you’re not like that.” “But even though I really like our C++, it’s different from how I like you.” “I like you the most.” Liam stroked my hair rhythmically but didn’t say a word. I sighed in relief, but my heart didn’t feel as light as I expected. But that’s how it is. Liam isn’t the type to care about these things. Love or whatever, Liam has seen so much in the entertainment industry. Didn’t he marry me just for stability?

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Because I did so many good deeds in my past life, the King of Hell promised I’d be reincarnated into a wealthy family. I meticulously picked through the list of billionaires. Ugly? Pass. Stupid? Pass. Short life expectancy? Pass. Too many rules? Pass. Dysfunctional family? Pass… No, no, no! Before I could choose the perfect family, the King of Hell stopped me. “Your best friend used a Fate Token to make a wish. She wants you to be reincarnated as her daughter.” What? My best friend? The one who lives in a shack, dropped out of college, and is dating a fat, ugly loser? That doormat?! 1 “What were you thinking?!” Looking around my best friend’s rented, dilapidated apartment, my resentment was heavier than a thousand-year-old ghost’s. If she didn’t give me a good explanation today, I was going to take her with me. Solve the problem at the source, so I wouldn’t be reincarnated as her daughter and live a poor life again. Chloe sobbed: “I’m sorry, Harper. I didn’t know you could be reincarnated as a trust fund baby. “I saw the birth rate was so low, I was afraid you’d be reallocated to a third-world country! I’m sorry, waaah…” “Well, thank you so much!” If I really had to choose between Chloe and a random third-world country, I would actually choose Chloe. But there is no “if”! My life as a wealthy socialite! Gone! “How about… I make another wish? I don’t want you to be my daughter anymore. You can go back to being a rich kid?” “Do you think this is Amazon? Seven-day no-questions-asked return policy?” If it weren’t for the ancient Fate Token passed down in Chloe’s family, the King of Hell wouldn’t care what she wished for. If I knew that token was so effective, Chloe should have just restarted her life. Reincarnated with me as wealthy sisters. Instead of shrinking in this run-down apartment, being a poor mother-daughter duo. “Harper, don’t be sad. “I swear, I will treat you well! “Although I can’t give you a wealthy life, I will give you the best I can!” Chloe looked so sincere, like a scumbag making promises. But I’m not love-struck; I’m very sober! “The best you can give me is living in this garbage dump, eating and sleeping with rats and cockroaches?” I pointed at the mountain of trash and the sour leftovers in takeout boxes. Just as I spoke, a dark, unidentified creature scurried across the corner. Chloe skillfully took off her shoe and threw it, but missed. Standing on one foot, she twisted the hem of her shirt shyly: “I usually clean up. I’ve been so busy handling your funeral these past few days, I got dizzy.” The harsh words on the tip of my tongue were swallowed back. True, besides her, no one else collected my body. 2 The police called my parents. A criminal with a knife broke into the kindergarten. To stall him and give the kids time to escape, I was stabbed seventeen times and died. Their first question was: How much is the compensation? Then they came in a hurry, collected the compensation money in a hurry, rushed back home in a hurry, and bought a house for their precious son, “Glory of Ancestors,” to get married in a hurry. But they didn’t even come to see me once, not even in a hurry. Instead, it was this idiot Chloe, crying until her eyes were swollen like walnuts. Running around busily. She didn’t take a penny, even spent her own money to handle my funeral. Luckily she was fast. Otherwise, my parents, after reacting, would have sold me for a “ghost marriage” to scrape together some renovation money for my “good brother.” I wonder if this coward Chloe fainted when she saw the big hole in my stomach. Looking at Chloe standing in front of me, twisting her fingers like a child who did something wrong. My nose felt sour. But I was still so angry! “Throw all this trash out! Wipe everything down with disinfectant three times! “And scrub the toilet five times!” Hearing my fierce command, Chloe laughed instead of crying: “Mission accepted!” Chloe huffed and puffed as she worked, and I supervised every step. Everything seemed peaceful. Until the old door was banged loudly, “Bang bang bang!” “Open the door!” 3 As soon as the door opened, a drunken man lost his support and fell to the ground. The stench of alcohol quickly occupied the entire room. I was so busy despising Chloe’s poverty that I forgot she had a stingy, fat, ugly boyfriend. Just a glance, and my eyes were burning. Fat enough that his eyes were slits, bald enough to be a mirror, short enough to be a cane. And a hairy mole on his chin. Chloe isn’t my best friend; she’s my mortal enemy! Not only does she want me to be poor in my next life, she wants me to be short, ugly, and poor! “You plan to have me with this thing?!” I roared at Chloe, stirring up a ghostly wind. Barry, helped onto the sofa by Chloe, shivered. The layers of fat on his body rippled. Chloe looked at Barry, confused: “What’s wrong, Harper? Is there something wrong with Barry?” “Everything is wrong! “Short, fat, bald, beady eyes, upturned nose, and a huge mole. You really aren’t picky! “If you dare marry him and let his inferior genes contaminate my noble chromosomes, I’ll take you away right now!” Chloe was still defending him: “Barry said he used to be very handsome, he just gained weight now.” Does she think I have amnesia? From the first time Chloe brought Barry to meet me, he looked like this ugly mess. Before, I didn’t want to interfere with other people’s fate, so I didn’t say much. But now. Damn it, if I don’t interfere, he’ll really become my dad! Seeing I didn’t believe her, Chloe pulled out a photo on her phone to prove it. “Look!” I leaned in to look; it was like a different person. The person in the photo wasn’t bald, wasn’t fat, looked clean, and was vaguely handsome. “Harper, don’t worry. I’ll talk to Barry about marriage and pregnancy tomorrow, make him lose weight properly. I promise to give birth to you in the best condition!” Chloe looked at me pitifully. Should I just… let it go? “Thirsty! Chloe, Chloe! Where the hell did you die to!” 4 “Coming!” Chloe abandoned me, poured a glass of warm water, and brought it to Barry’s lips. Just one sip, and he sprayed the water onto Chloe’s face. “You want to scald me to death?!” Warm water dripped down Chloe’s chin. “You drank too much alcohol, it’s better to drink some warm water,” Chloe said gently. Barry snatched the glass from Chloe’s hand and smashed it at her: “I want ice water!” The cheap glass hit Chloe’s forehead, leaving a purple bruise. Then it fell to the ground, shattering. I suddenly remembered the bruises I saw on Chloe from time to time over the past year. She explained that she accidentally bumped into things while delivering cakes to customers. At that time, I scolded her for being stupid while applying medicine. “Just bake cakes in the shop properly, hire someone for delivery, give yourself a break, okay?” I deliberately pressed hard on her wound, hoping she would remember. She grimaced in pain but didn’t agree. Just gave a fawning, cowardly smile. Now it seems, it wasn’t that she wouldn’t let herself off the hook, it was Barry who wouldn’t let her go! “Chloe, are you an idiot? He hit you, can’t you hit back?!” Chloe was startled by my sudden roar. “Harper, don’t be angry, Barry is just drunk. He usually treats me well.” “Bullshit! I only believe what I see! And I see him treating you like a slave!” I’ve known Chloe since we were kids; she loves cleanliness. Even if she’s been too busy to touch the ground these past few days, she would never let trash pile up like a mountain. It must be that she was so busy she didn’t come home, and the room was ruined by this fat pig Barry like a pigsty. Now, he dares to order Chloe around like an emperor. I really can’t stand it! “Chloe, slap him right now!” But Chloe hesitated, looking troubled: “Harper…” And Barry, having waited for a long time, was very impatient: “Chloe, water!” “Coming!” Chloe avoided my gaze. Fled to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of cold Coke, unscrewed the cap, and handed it to Barry: “Drink slowly, don’t choke.” Ahhh! This damn love-brain! Look at Chloe’s cowardly appearance. If she really gives birth to me with this fat pig, will I also be enslaved by him? In the future, Chloe feeds him, and I wash his feet? I can’t accept this! In a rage, I floated back to the Underworld. Crying and begging the King of Hell: Can’t I really change people?

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I’m a gold digger. To climb the social ladder, I spiked a rich guy’s drink, hoping to cook the rice before anyone could stop me. Even if I couldn’t become a wealthy wife, getting some money out of it would be good. The result? Damn it, the spiked drink was drunk by his dad. Even worse, I discovered he was the benefactor who had been sponsoring my education. 1 Clothes were scattered messily on the floor. The sexy lingerie I carefully prepared was torn to shreds—heartbreaking, yet exciting. The lights in the room were off all night, and the bed shook all night. When daylight broke the next day, and I saw clearly who I had slept with, my world collapsed. I had intended to sleep with Liam Thorne. Who was this? This was Liam’s dad. A young and promising entrepreneur, thirty-three years old this year, Liam’s adoptive father. Liam’s biological mother was Sebastian Thorne’s sister. After his sister and brother-in-law died in a car accident, Sebastian raised Liam alone and became his father. Liam was my target, so it wasn’t strange that I knew the situation in advance. These things were common knowledge; even if I didn’t investigate deliberately, I would have known. That’s why I was having a breakdown. He’s Liam’s dad! I wanted to be Liam’s bride, not his mother! I had put a heavy dose in that drink, not giving Liam any chance to escape. I had made up my mind to take him down. So, Sebastian, who actually fell for it, woke up clutching his throbbing head. He opened his eyes and saw me, a stiff look of confusion appearing on his mature, handsome face. Without thinking, while still naked, I knelt directly towards him to apologize. “I’m sorry, Uncle, I didn’t mean to.” Sebastian’s brow twitched. Even in such a dramatic situation, he didn’t lose his composure in the slightest. My understanding of Sebastian could only be described with words like gentlemanly and reliable. He was a very handsome man. At thirty-three, he was like wine aged just right—mellow, intoxicating, and full of masculine charm. Temperament determined everything, making even the few fine lines at the corners of his eyes deadly weapons. He was indeed handsome, but I liked younger ones, like his son. I lowered my head, trembling, and heard him let out a long sigh. “I remember you.” My heart skipped a beat, feeling like it was all over. The next second, he draped the shirt by his hand over me and whispered, “Sorry.” While buttoning up, I asked, “Uncle, you know me?” It was normal to know me. After all, I was a notorious gold digger in the circle. Seeing a rich person was like a dog seeing a bone; I would kiss up frantically. Those dissolute rich kids in the circle were afraid of me. Liam even said directly in front of others: “I wouldn’t even want to sleep with a girl like Harper Stone.” Obviously, Sebastian was a great philanthropist, gentle and approachable, yet he raised such a rebellious brat. Probably adolescent rebellion. We’re both eighteen; I understand him. Sebastian put on his clothes and gave a faint “Mn.” “I remember. Your name is Harper Stone. Since you were fourteen, I have been sponsoring your education every year.” There was no extra expression on his face. He maintained politeness, not even lifting his head, afraid to see my naked skin. The skin now wrapped in his shirt, under the influence of the drug, had been left with scattered, crazy love bites by him. After sobering up, he became a gentleman again, while I was a despicable girl who loved leisure and hated work. Oh, can’t say girl anymore; it’s woman. After I got dressed, he asked me, “You haven’t contacted me for a long time. How is it? Which university did you get into?” I suddenly remembered there was indeed someone sponsoring me. At first, I would tell him about my studies from time to time. Every birthday and holiday, he would prepare gifts for me and help me when I was financially embarrassed. So he was my benefactor. I buried my head in shame, afraid to look him in the eye. Finally, I gave a dry laugh: “Dropped out. Took a shortcut to climb into rich people’s beds. Didn’t I just climb into yours, sir?” The smile on Sebastian’s face slowly disappeared, as if he finally realized what happened between us last night. He slept with a girl fifteen years younger than him, whom he had sponsored. Sebastian’s face was uglier than ever before. After a long silence, he sighed again, frowning, covering his forehead, annoyed at his actions. Even though it wasn’t his fault. It was my reckless method, clumsily applied to the wrong person. How could a person cause such a huge mess? I knew deeply what the consequences of doing this would be. Before, he always praised me. In his heart, I was a good kid. Now the good kid had fallen into a gold digger and landed in his hands. He must be furious. Before I could apologize, he apologized first. “Sorry. “From a man’s perspective, I should take responsibility for you, but I respect your choice. If you are willing, I will compensate you.” I stared at him blankly, my brain working fast. Weighing the pros and cons, I didn’t hesitate for too long and blurted out. “Then take responsibility for me, Mr. Thorne. I want you to be my boyfriend.” Such an opportunity was hard to catch, especially for someone hated by everyone like me. To be able to hold onto a golden thigh of Sebastian’s level was something one could only wish for; it was simply a gift from heaven. I knew my clumsiness and cheapness deeply. I knew my image in his heart was completely ruined. But the moment I decided to be a gold digger, I already knew what kind of person I was. My heart was beating very fast. A vain person like me actually felt panic and nervousness at this moment. Afraid he would show a contemptuous expression, afraid he would hate me, and even more afraid he would reject me. Sebastian was silent for a few seconds. “Okay. “But don’t do this kind of thing again in the future.” My heart went cold halfway. Still disgusted with me, right? Well, deserved. If someone else said this to me, I wouldn’t feel a ripple. But he happened to be the one who sponsored my education, who had high hopes for me. And I failed him, becoming someone who would do anything for money. I felt ashamed. At this time, he said, “I know you have your difficulties. You are not a bad kid. I believe in you.” His words stunned me. In fact, I knew very little about this sponsor. From beginning to end, my communication with him was on the phone. He didn’t reveal his name to me, nor his appearance and age. He was gentle and encouraged me. My grades weren’t good. To continue receiving his sponsorship, I studied desperately, but in the end, I could only get average grades. Every time I showed him my report card, I was terrified, afraid I would disappoint him. If I couldn’t study, I could only get married. But he didn’t. Facing my self-loathing, he would comfort me: “Stupid kids also need to read books.” I failed his expectations. This stupid kid, now biting the hand that fed her. I knew I should apologize to him, then go far away and never appear in front of him again. But I had no way back. People are always selfish. I was a selfish and despicable person. He said okay, so we would be boyfriend and girlfriend from now on. Oh, if he said I was his mistress, I would be happy too. The atmosphere was inexplicably awkward for a moment. I assured him: “Mr. Thorne, don’t worry, I only climbed your bed alone. I am clean, no diseases.” Mainly because I only succeeded in climbing Sebastian’s bed alone, and it was successful because of an accident. Sebastian frowned. I thought he didn’t believe it. When I wanted to explain, he suddenly said: “Don’t talk about yourself like that.” Sebastian dressed properly. His aura of righteousness was so upright that I dared not look directly at him, making me look like a shameful rat. He told me earnestly: “The cleanliness of the body does not lie in virginity.” Just like before, he always taught me many principles. Pity he had no talent for teaching children. Liam wasn’t taught well, and even I grew crooked. But he was the first person to say such things to me. Every rich guy I entangled with asked if I was clean, then immediately denied it with a sneer: “You’ve hooked up with so many guys, probably played out long ago, right? I don’t play with damaged goods.” My parents also said. Girls should avoid suspicion and not go out to play with boys, otherwise others would say I was messing around, and I wouldn’t be able to get married later, or I would be despised by my in-laws as a broken shoe. I didn’t expect that what everyone cared about, Sebastian didn’t care. Positive energy! While I was distracted, Sebastian looked at me: “Harper, I remember you are only eighteen. “Although I don’t know the reason why you didn’t continue studying, I still hope you can return to school. “If you are willing, I can let you go to school with Liam.” What? School? I dropped out after junior year. Asking me to go back to school now, might as well let me learn how to serve him in bed. Could it be Sebastian’s fetish is schoolgirls? …Not impossible. Just then, the door suddenly opened. Liam appeared angrily. Seeing the disheveled me and the messy bed, his eyes turned red, emitting a sharp scream. He cursed loudly: “You bitch, couldn’t climb my bed, so you climbed my dad’s?” Inevitable. The drug was administered; someone had to take the hit, right? I had heard too many such ugly words and was immune. Sebastian slapped him directly, silencing Liam. I was stunned, covering my mouth and widening my eyes to watch the drama. Sebastian looked angry, his voice low: “Is this how I taught you to speak?” Liam cried in anger: “You indeed didn’t teach me like this, but you slept with her. Don’t you have anything to explain? Do you know what kind of person she is? Do you want this kind of person to be my stepmother?” Seeing them arguing more and more fiercely, I quickly added fuel to the fire, afraid their misunderstanding would be resolved. “I know you hate me. It doesn’t matter. In the future, we each address our own way. You call me Little Mom, I call you Brother Liam.” Liam was so angry his face turned green. “Shut up! What kind of thing are you, wanting to enter the Thorne family door!” I sold my pitifulness to Sebastian with tears in my eyes: “Mr. Thorne, I really didn’t mean to.” Liam was even angrier: “Why didn’t I see before that you are so good at sowing discord?” He pointed at my nose and said to Sebastian: “She has long been notorious in our circle. People looking for escorts don’t even want her. She is just for your money. Who knows how dirty she is.” Then, Liam got slapped again. Hahahahahaha, I almost laughed out loud. Although I wanted to climb his bed, it didn’t affect my dislike for him. When I chased him, he despised and teased me while treating me like a dog, wanting me to listen to his instructions at all times. I love money, not him. Seeing him get beaten, I felt so good. Didn’t he say he wouldn’t even want to sleep with someone like me? Still his dad has good taste and good stamina. Sebastian looked terrible: “Apologize.” “Why should I apologize? Did I say anything wrong? Don’t cry when you get infected by her!” Liam slammed the door and left, leaving me and Sebastian in silence. He sighed and apologized to me: “Sorry, don’t mind what he said. I will talk to him properly.” I quit while I was ahead: “No need, no need. He is also worried about you.” After all, Liam was slapped twice; I was already satisfied. Sometimes people just do it for show; better not push my luck. Logically, a person like Sebastian shouldn’t be able to raise a devil like Liam. Maybe it’s genetics; after all, he’s not Sebastian’s biological son. Sebastian asked me: “About going to school, have you considered it?” Of course I agreed. Now he is my sugar daddy. Isn’t the first rule of being a canary to obey the sugar daddy’s orders unconditionally? Not to mention going to school, as long as the money is enough, I can climb a mountain of knives. “Go, I’ll go.” He handed me a key, “From now on, you can live here with peace of mind. You don’t need to worry about anything else.” “What about you?” “I will come to see you when I have time. Your task in the future is to focus on studying.” I felt something was wrong. Does he really like the schoolgirl style, or does he really want me to study? 2 Facts proved that Sebastian really wanted me to study. When I appeared at the noble international school and was in the same class as Liam, Liam exploded. “Why are you here?” He questioned directly when I introduced myself. The whole class’s attention was attracted by him. Liam’s reaction made others curious about me, the new airborne student. I looked at him smilingly: “This is a school. Of course I came here to study.” Just based on the fact that I, a gold digger, climbed his dad’s bed, he would never accept me. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t accept me; I can accept him. If Sebastian marries me in the future, I don’t mind having a son older than me. Of course, I knew Sebastian couldn’t possibly marry me. A man with a clean background and integrity like him, what kind of famous lady couldn’t he get? Just because he was a responsible good man, plus he was soft-hearted towards me whom he once sponsored, he couldn’t bear to see me go astray, so he kindly pulled me up. The teacher asked Liam to calm down. Liam couldn’t calm down and ran away directly. He was a famous dandy. Teachers couldn’t control him, and Sebastian couldn’t control him either. Beating and scolding didn’t work. Watching Liam leave helplessly, I sat calmly in the seat arranged by the teacher under everyone’s curious gaze. Liam hated me. He couldn’t stand seeing me, who wanted to be his mom, doing well. So in just one day, he spread my glorious deeds throughout the class and even the school. Of course, he wouldn’t expose that the sugar daddy I climbed onto was Sebastian. He just told others that I was a promiscuous, money-grubbing slut who would sleep with anyone as long as they had money. Those malicious rich kids found my phone number and sent me harassing text messages in the middle of the night, asking how much for a night. [Before, the minimum standard was calculated by month, fifty thousand a month. Not anymore; I have a fixed sugar daddy.] Those people thought a little girl would be thin-skinned and could be humiliated, seeing me break down and cry to satisfy their bad taste. But if these words were said a week ago, I would have agreed happily. Who let me hug a very thick golden thigh now? Only gold diggers understand Sebastian’s gold content. They didn’t give up, whistling at me in school, looking me up and down with frivolous eyes, unscrupulously looking at my chest and butt. They said I had dirty diseases and was qualified to come to school here just because I climbed up a rich man. Everyone looked at me with malice and contempt. They hated me, avoided me, spoke ill of me openly, and laughed at me: “Still a diligent chicken studying hard every day.” I didn’t think that was a rumor; just the truth. Teachers managed it, but it was useless. Those second-generation rich kids had money and power; teachers didn’t dare to manage too much. No one managed them, so they went too far, determined to dig out all my black history and make it their laughing stock after meals. They dug out that I was a repeat offender. Because my motives were too obvious and fanatical, the rich second generation in the circle avoided me like the plague and wouldn’t even sleep with me. They also dug out my home address and background. Stony Creek Village, South Hill County. A place almost forgotten by the map, remote and backward. That was my home. I had two older sisters and a younger brother. My father was seventy years old, and my mother was a cripple blind in one eye. My eldest sister got married. My twin sister of the same age was in a coma in the hospital due to a car accident. My younger brother was still in elementary school. I dropped out in my junior year of high school and did many jobs. Waitress, clothing sales, manicurist, street vendor, amusement park odd jobs, escape room NPC, foot washing girl. At most, I worked three jobs at the same time, eating one bun with pickles a day. I lasted for a month, thin as a skeleton, fainted and entered the hospital, infused with two bottles of glucose, ate the boxed lunch bought by a kind nurse, and left without being hospitalized. I had no money for hospitalization; I couldn’t get sick. If I fell, what about my sister? After doing a lot of jobs and finding that the money couldn’t even support my sister’s medical expenses. I chose to take a shortcut. I wanted to be someone’s mistress. For poor people like us who have nowhere to go, we have no dignity. My dignity turned into cheap cosmetics on my face, cheap clothes on my body, ridiculous high heels on my feet. Practicing the most charming smile, I treated myself as a product for promotion, trying to package myself as a famous brand and sell at an expensive price. But a knockoff is a knockoff. Rich people have sharp eyes and can expose me at a glance. At first, when they learned that I came from a remote mountain village and was a genuine village girl, they laughed loudly, saying rural people were snobbish. But the more they dug, the more complicated the expressions on their faces became, until finally they could no longer laugh and looked at each other in silence. Especially the initiator of this bullying carnival, Liam. That day after school, he suddenly stopped me. “So, you became a gold digger to get money to treat your sister?” I nodded honestly: “Yeah, otherwise who would be willing to shamelessly spoil themselves?” Liam still questioned: “What about your parents? Don’t they have money? If not, you can ask for social donations!” Hearing this young master’s naive rhetoric, I couldn’t help laughing. “Young master, do you know the saying ‘Why don’t they eat cake’?” Liam was silent, his face pale. “Sorry… I…” It was rare to hear an apology from this master’s mouth. “No need to apologize. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have the chance to be famous in the whole school. “I didn’t mean to climb your dad’s bed. Actually, I wanted to climb your bed at first, who knew I climbed the wrong person.” How would I know that the person in the room suddenly changed from Liam to Sebastian that day? Hearing my words, Liam’s originally pale face suddenly flushed. Stammering, pointing at my nose for a long time before speaking clearly. “You you you, do you have any shame?” Realizing what he said, Liam regretted it again. “I didn’t mean that, I…” I didn’t care, “Shame can’t be eaten as food, but the money your dad gives can buy food.” I ignored his stunned expression and turned away. 3 Sebastian was a busy man. Except for caring about my studies, we had almost no communication at other times. He even rarely came to my place. This wouldn’t do. If a little lover lost the attention of the sugar daddy, that was a sign of being abandoned! His asceticism made me think he had someone new outside, making me anxious like an ant on a hot pan. To attract Sebastian’s attention, I lied that I had a fever and acted coquettishly to ask him to come and see me. Sebastian really came. Seeing me lying on the bed, he frowned worriedly and reached out to touch my forehead. “Not very hot, shouldn’t be a big problem.” I grabbed his hand that was about to retract. Seeing his surprised expression, I lifted the quilt with a shy face, revealing a slender and well-proportioned body. For tonight, I went to buy a new set of lingerie. That night Sebastian tore my lingerie to pieces, probably liked it, so I bought the same type again. Blushing, I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Mr. Thorne, you haven’t come to my place for a long time. Did I do something wrong?” Sebastian’s eyes were deep. His palm was on my lower back. I bit my lip, before I could use means to seduce him. Sebastian suddenly pushed me away. “If you want to use this method to keep me, you don’t have to worry. “I said I would take responsibility for you.” His tone was not blame, nor ridicule, but gentle comfort. I sat on the bed staring at him blankly. “And about your sister.” He suddenly mentioned it, making my heart skip a beat. Probably no sugar daddy wants to raise two people, right? Money doesn’t grow on trees, let alone the other party is a critically ill patient. I got nervous. His voice was peaceful: “You don’t have to worry either. I will help you. Studying is your top priority task.” His words, contrasted with what I was wearing now, made me feel embarrassed. That kind of embarrassment of the soul was much more shameful than being stripped naked and thrown into the crowd. Body temperature retreated rapidly. I panicked and covered my body with the quilt, feeling that I had done something incredibly stupid. “Sorry, Mr. Thorne.” Sebastian smiled and touched my head. “I will make time to accompany you more in the future.” That night, Sebastian stayed over. Only he slept in the guest room, leaving my new lingerie useless. Lying in bed, I was not sleepy at all, thoughts messy in my mind. Sebastian knew my situation. From the day he chose to sponsor me, he had investigated my background clearly. We had never met. Thanks to the director who came to our village to shoot a documentary, I had the honor to be the protagonist once. God opened his eyes; that documentary was funded by Sebastian. In the lens, I was thin and small, fourteen years old, wearing ill-fitting clothes and shoes, dirty herding cattle on the mountain. That was the time Sebastian decided to sponsor me. We never met. He hid his personal information very well. If I knew that kind-hearted gentleman was Liam’s father, I would rather die than target Liam.

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After I was diagnosed with stomach cancer. I bought three necklaces and hid them in three different places. “Hubby, these are my favorite necklaces. You have to burn one for me on my death anniversary every year, okay?” With that one sentence, I leashed the mad dog that was Ethan Sterling. I stopped him from jumping off a building, made him throw away his sleeping pills. Relying on this promise, he survived year after year. Until a young girl appeared by Ethan’s side. She was innocent and kind, like a warm little sun. Ethan moved out of our marital home and gave away the puppy I raised. On the third anniversary of my death, Ethan didn’t come. I slipped into Ethan’s dream, acting cute: “Hubby, you dummy, you haven’t found this year’s necklace yet.” Ethan, who usually chattered endlessly to me, was inexplicably silent. After a long time, he said: “Willow, it’s been three years. I need to start a new life too.” 1 After Ethan said that, I was stunned for a long time before replying slowly: “Oh, I see.” After that sentence, silence fell between us. Ethan lowered his head, hair obscuring his eyes, lost in thought. Actually, this is how it should be. Trees grow upward, people should look forward to the future. I opened my mouth, trying to pretend to be happy. But for some reason, I couldn’t curve my lips into a smile no matter how hard I tried. “Is it that girl from your company? She’s quite cute. If you’re together, treat her well…” Ethan gave a soft “mn.” I had so many other questions. I wanted to ask why he moved out of our marital home. I wanted to ask why he gave away my puppy. I also wanted to ask if he would still visit my grave on future anniversaries. But hearing that “mn.” I suddenly didn’t know what to say, so I turned around somewhat flustered: “Oh, okay, then I’ll get going…” I had drifted a few steps away when a voice suddenly came from behind: “Willow, did you really like that necklace?” It was Ethan, his voice characteristically deep. Everyone else called me Willow. Only Ethan called me Will. “Not really, actually I didn’t like it that much.” Three years ago, I hid those necklaces to give Ethan something to hold onto. So he wouldn’t be impulsive, wouldn’t follow me in grief. But now, it’s not needed. A new girl has appeared by his side. The girl is passionate and bold, approaching him day after day. Melting Ethan’s heart, giving him the motivation to live. My necklace seems a bit like an eyesore now. Ethan asked me: “Will, are you angry?” Actually, there’s no reason to be angry. My tone was serious: “Ethan Sterling, I’m really not angry.” I shouldn’t be selfish and domineering, occupying Ethan’s life even after death. How could I be angry? If I had to say. Maybe my heart just feels a little sour, so sour my eyes are a bit red. I looked at the moisture on my fingertips, wondering if ghosts can cry too? 2 At eighteen, I found out I was living in a book. Ethan was the male lead, and I was his “white moonlight”—the unforgettable first love who died young. In the book, we only had three years to love each other before I died of stomach cancer. So I suppressed my feelings and intentionally avoided Ethan. Nineteen-year-old Ethan didn’t understand why I suddenly became cold to him. He tried hard, hit many walls. Later, there was a fire at school. He was the only one who rushed in to save me. A terrifying scar nearly four inches long wound down his arm. It made him miss his exams and ended his dream of becoming a pilot. Ethan comforted me instead: “Will, I insisted on rushing in, it has nothing to do with you.” That night, I accepted Ethan’s confession. I told myself, stomach cancer is curable if caught early. The plot in the dream might not happen. After graduating college, we got married. After that, I researched a lot, going for checkups regularly. Ethan was more nervous than me, almost memorizing the test results. Unfortunately, life rarely goes as planned. I don’t understand, stomach cancer was detected early. But why did it worsen into late stage in just one month? So unexpected, so contrary to common sense. During that time, Ethan was like a walking corpse, his hair turned half gray, suffering insomnia night after night. Yet he pretended to be relaxed when visiting me, wearing a hat to comfort me not to be afraid. But no miracle happened. Before dying, I hid three necklaces and hired someone to tell Ethan a location every year: “Hubby, this is my favorite necklace. Remember to burn one for me every year, I want to be beautiful in the afterlife too.” With this promise, I stopped Ethan’s countless thoughts of suicide. Ethan was depressed,消沉 and desperate because of his love for me. And also persisted and cheered up because of his love for me. Three years later, the destined heroine of the plot, Lily Summers, appeared. The heroine would heal him with love and tenderness. Redeeming Ethan from the past, starting the sweet romance plot that followed. The last necklace didn’t need to be found. I was destined to be forgotten. 3 I floated behind Lily Summers. The heroine in the plot had a beautiful, innocent face. I heard her complaining to the air: “System, are you sure Ethan likes me? His face is as cold as ice every day, acting like I’m his enemy.” A cold robotic voice sounded, presumably the System Lily was talking to: “Host, your role is the little sun. As long as you persist in being proactive, you can soften the male lead’s heart. Remember to bring breakfast for the male lead tomorrow.” Lily pouted: “Fine. If it weren’t for the fifty million dollar prize, I wouldn’t take this crappy mission, chasing after someone who ignores me every day.” “But, Ethan is handsome and rich. I actually kind of like him. Marrying him and spending the rest of my life with him is actually pretty good. I can even get half his assets. Compared to that, the fifty million is nothing.” I stood frozen in place. System? Prize? Mission? What does this mean? The next morning, Lily indeed brought breakfast to the company. She smiled shyly, showing a unique girlish innocence. Ethan was a germaphobe, usually kept strangers away, but uncharacteristically accepted the breakfast. Not only that, he ordered Lily, an intern, to be converted to full-time early. It was completely different from how he treated me back then. At that time, our relationship was strong, and Ethan was childhood friends with my boss. But Ethan asked me to follow company rules. He said he believed in my ability and didn’t want me to be gossiped about for using connections. I couldn’t tell whose method was better, mine or Lily’s. But obviously, Lily was somewhat special in Ethan’s heart. After that day, Lily was exceptionally promoted to Ethan’s personal assistant. The two were inseparable almost every day. Eating together during work, watching movies together on holidays. Everyone could see Ethan’s special treatment of Lily. Employees gossiped, relieved that Ethan finally started another relationship: “Our CEO Sterling is really devoted. Since Miss Willow left, he almost lived in the company day and night, pouring all his energy into work.” “That day I was wondering why CEO Sterling kept looking out the window. Later I found out a new chain store opened opposite the company. That was the bakery Miss Willow liked most when she was alive. That afternoon CEO Sterling was restless, signing several contracts wrong, which was unlike his rigorous self.” “Miss Willow was very nice. I remember she ordered afternoon tea for us every time she came to the company.” “Yeah, but people have to look forward. We are all happy for CEO Sterling that he is willing to step out of the past and start a new life.” 4 Ethan moved out of our marital home and bought a new villa. Lily stood in front of the mirror, surrounded by expensive clothes and bags. She happily tried them on: “Ethan is so generous. Buying so many things just after we started dating. If we get married, won’t he be even more generous?” System: [Host, rest assured, I will definitely help you marry Ethan. By then, half of the Sterling family assets will be yours.] Lily smiled until her eyes curved: “Of course I believe you. If not for you, I wouldn’t even be able to get close to Ethan now.” As she spoke, she gritted her teeth a bit: “It’s all that bitch Willow Winters’ fault. Still lingering after death. If not for her, I would have married Ethan long ago. What ‘according to custom, can’t marry for three years,’ I spit on that!” The day Ethan and I got married. The officiant asked the groom if he would be faithful to the bride for life? Ethan nodded seriously and solemnly said “I do.” But actually that night, I quietly made an agreement with him about time: “Hubby, if I die, three years. Just three years, hubby. I don’t want a lifetime.” I don’t know if it’s a real custom or if Ethan remembered that night’s promise. But undoubtedly, this result is good. Ethan’s destined heroine appeared, and I didn’t make him make a promise he couldn’t keep. Ethan being depressed for three years was already doing right by me. He should start a new stage afterward. For the rest of his life, the one accompanying him should be Lily.

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After covering for the girl my two childhood best friends liked for the umpteenth time, they stopped me with smiles as I was leaving school. “Cover for her just one more time today? We’re going on a date tonight. Please?” I looked up and whispered: “Not today. I have a date too.” One friend’s smile instantly vanished, replaced by a cold smirk. “If you don’t want to do her chores, at least come up with a better excuse. Who could you possibly have a date with?” Seeing my silence, the other friend’s smile disappeared completely. He slammed his hand against the wall, pinning me there. “You’re really going on a date? “With who?!” 1 After class, I was taking out my umbrella to head home when Lucas grabbed my arm. “Don’t go yet. Do the cleaning duty first.” I looked back. Chloe’s name was written on the blackboard under “Cleaning Duty.” “It’s not my turn today—” “Chloe has cramps,” Lucas smirked, his handsome fox-like eyes curving up. He naturally patted my shoulder. “So, I’m counting on you. I’m gonna take Chloe home first.” Saying that, he slung his backpack over one shoulder and moved to give Chloe a piggyback ride. A hint of amusement flashed in Chloe’s eyes as she playfully hit him. “I don’t need you to carry me. I said it’s nothing serious. You’re making a big deal out of nothing.” Lucas half-knelt in front of her, looking up. “How is it nothing? Girls need to rest when they have cramps. Harper is a girl too, she’ll understand. “Right, Harper?” I pressed my lips together. “…Fine.” As soon as I put down my backpack, the umbrella tucked on the side was pulled out by a long, pale hand. Ethan took off his rimless glasses and frowned at Lucas. “Are you planning to let Chloe walk in the rain? She can’t catch a cold.” He glanced at me. “I’m taking the umbrella. The rain looks like it’ll stop soon. You can leave when it stops.” With that, one carried Chloe while the other held the umbrella over her, and they walked out together. Chloe turned back, a slightly apologetic look on her exquisite face. “Harper, we’ll be going then.” … Their figures quickly disappeared into the rain. I withdrew my gaze and started cleaning. This was the third time this month I had covered for Chloe, and she was only scheduled three times a month. The time before last, she had a piano lesson. before I could even agree, Lucas agreed for me. “Piano lessons are important. You have your level test coming up. Harper doesn’t have anything to do anyway.” Last time, a new movie Chloe liked was released. Both Lucas and Ethan wanted to watch it with her, so the cleaning duty was left to me. I silently swept the entire classroom, mopped it once, and started erasing the blackboard. The blackboard was too high. I couldn’t reach the top words even after jumping a few times. Just as I was about to get a chair, a hand reached out from behind me. A hand with defined knuckles, clean and beautiful. It took the eraser from me and wiped away the words in a few strokes. Startled, I turned around abruptly and found Julian, the academic representative, standing behind me. He was so close I could smell the scent of sea salt and lemon on him—light, dry, and completely out of place with the humidity. Before I could speak, he said: “It doesn’t seem to be your turn today?” The girls at school always argued about who was the hottest: Ethan, Lucas, or Julian. But maybe because I was with Ethan and Lucas every day, seeing Julian up close felt more impactful. His light brown eyes were clear and clean, his eyelashes long and light like butterfly wings. “Chloe isn’t feeling well, so I’m helping her. “Why haven’t you left yet?” Julian didn’t show much expression, just helped me erase the entire board. “Went to the office to drop off papers. Came back and saw you—” he seemed to chuckle, “jumping.” I blushed. “Thanks.” “No problem.” Julian put the eraser on the podium. “Done? Shall we go?” I waved my hand. “You go ahead. I don’t have an umbrella. I’ll wait for the rain to stop.” He pulled out a black umbrella. “Let’s go together. I have one.” … “You often cover for Chloe? I’ve seen it before.” “Yeah, she… has things to do.” “She has a lot of things to do,” Julian tilted the umbrella towards me. “You seem pretty close with Ethan and Lucas?” “Yeah, we’re all friends. Including Chloe.” “If you’re friends, why do you do all the work alone?” I was speechless, kicking a small stone. “You’re busy too, right? I heard you have cram school at night. Why don’t you refuse her?” I paused. “If I refuse, they’ll be unhappy. We’re friends.” “What happens if they’re unhappy?” “We won’t be friends anymore?” I blurted out. “I only have these three friends.” “Then be friends with me.” We stopped at the entrance of my apartment building simultaneously. The jacaranda blossoms in the complex were beaten down by the rain, petals blowing in the wind. Julian held the black umbrella and smiled at me. “Are we friends now?” No one could say no to that face. I nodded. “Of course. Thanks for walking me home today.” “Just a verbal thanks?” I froze, looking up at Julian. The right side of his uniform, away from me, was completely soaked, while I was barely wet. But he didn’t seem to feel it at all, his smile gentle. “Then accompany me to the library the day after tomorrow. You wouldn’t refuse a friend, right?” 3 After showering that night, I saw Chloe’s message tagging me in the group chat. “Harper, are you home? Sorry for troubling you again. It’s all because those two insisted on sending me home. I said it was nothing, but they made it so tense.” I dried my hair. “I’m home.” “You didn’t have an umbrella. How did you get back?” Lucas suddenly asked. “Someone walked me home.” “Who was it?” Chloe sent a voice message with a laugh. “Is our Harper dating?” Ethan rarely sent messages in the group, usually only replying after Chloe spoke. “Impossible. Who would date Harper?” Lucas chimed in: “Exactly. She’s a nerd. Who would be interested in her?” Chloe laughed louder. “Why do you say that about Harper? She’s great, pretty and smart.” “Pretty?” Lucas scoffed. “Far worse than you. If she’s pretty, what are you?” Ethan: “Chloe, you’re just too kind. If you don’t tell the truth, she won’t see herself clearly. What if she gets tricked?” Messages popped up one after another. My mood, which had improved because of Julian, hit rock bottom again. I put down my phone and lay down gloomily. This wasn’t the first time. I knew that in our so-called clique, they actually looked down on me. I could understand. Ethan, Lucas, and Chloe were the dazzling types. Good-looking, wealthy families, excellent themselves. Only I was the most inconspicuous one. If we hadn’t grown up together, I might never have crossed paths with people like them in my life. Ethan and Lucas both liked Chloe. When the four of us were together, I was always transparent. It had been this way since childhood. I seemed to have gotten used to not refusing them. I rolled over, remembering what Julian said before leaving. “Treating you like this… do they really consider you a friend?” 4 On the day of Chloe’s cleaning duty, Lucas shoved the broom into my hands again. “We’re taking Chloe to the movies tonight. Cover for her.” Ethan had already picked up Chloe’s bag. Chloe waved at me with a smile. “Thanks, Harper!” I paused, then handed the broom back to Lucas. “Sorry, but I have a date today too.” The smiles on their three faces froze simultaneously. “A date?” Chloe curled her lip, putting on a generous act. “Haha, Harper, you just don’t want to cover for me, right? True, I’ve troubled you a lot this month.” Lucas frowned, his thick eyebrows knitting together. “A date? With who? Harper, if you’re making an excuse, find a better one. Who else do you know besides us?” Ethan turned his inorganic-looking eyes behind the rimless glasses towards me. “Harper, stop messing around. Chloe really wants to see this movie. Just cover for her once, it’s not like you haven’t done it before.” “It’s true,” I lowered my head. “We agreed to go to the library. I’m not messing around.” Chloe raised an eyebrow. “Can’t you do the cleaning first? It won’t take long.” “No,” I glanced at my watch. “It’s almost time. I’m leaving first.” Chloe’s smile faded. She tugged lightly at Lucas. “Can you and Ethan persuade Harper? Is she angry because I trouble her too much? “Or is she… really dating? Is it the person who walked her home last time?” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ethan and Lucas’s expressions darken. Ethan blocked my path. “Who walked you home last time? Who are you meeting?” Before I could speak, Lucas pinned me against the wall. “In such a hurry to leave? Harper, speak clearly. Are you really dating?” He lowered his brow, eyes dark. “Who is it?!” “Me.” Julian walked in, pulling me away from Lucas. He was about the same height as Lucas, looking at him levelly with a smile. “Harper is going out with me today. “Let’s go.” Saying that, he helped me with my bag. As we left, his gaze swept over Ethan without a ripple.

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