Author: Momo Chan

My boyfriend and I both thought the other was a secret rich kid slumming it. On the surface, we were partners in crime, hustling for every penny, but secretly, we were both eyeing the other’s imagined trust fund. It wasn’t until two actual high-society campus alumni announced their engagement that the penny dropped. We’d been wrong. Turns out, we were both just flat-out broke. So, we immediately decided to break up and split our side gigs. He got the gig handling errands and shopping runs. I took the job of covering classes and writing papers for students. And we agreed to use up the remaining eight condoms we had in one go. From then on, it was back to our own corners, hustling hard, and no hard feelings. 1 The day Ethan Hayes, heir to the Hayes fortune, and Chloe Fitzgerald, heiress to the Fitzgerald empire, announced their engagement, they flooded every campus group chat with cash links. Thanks to my lightning-fast concert ticket buying fingers, I snagged an easy eight hundred bucks. “Score! Just grabbed a whole month’s rent money.” I bragged to my boyfriend, Ryan Black, when it suddenly hit me. “Ryan, wait, you’re not that Hayes guy, are you?” He was mid-forkful of BBQ chicken when his hand froze, his expression changing. “Fiona, so… you’re not the Fitzgerald heiress?” I shook my head. He slowly pulled his fork back. “So, is your scooter really called ‘Maserati’?” I nodded. “Yeah! Don’t you think it’s adorable and classy? It totally has that Maserati vibe.” Then, a sudden realization dawned on me. “And that Porsche key fob you carry—is that… not a key?” He hesitated. “That’s just a lighter.” Wrong. All of it. Wrong. We just stared at each other. It turned out we’d both been operating under the assumption that the other was a secret billionaire playing poor. Those “abstract” moments weren’t clever attempts to mask wealth; they were just genuinely broke moments. To break the crushing awkwardness, I took a huge bite of ramen. And accidentally lodged a piece of chili flake in my throat. “Cough… cough…” It felt like fireworks were going off behind my eyes. The quick-witted waitress rushed over with a soda. “The special doesn’t include a drink, that’ll be five bucks extra.” I frantically waved her off. “No, thanks!” Ryan frowned. “Just drink it, my treat.” “No way. Your five bucks is just as important as mine.” I chugged an entire jug of free water until the chili flake finally dislodged. The waitress who watched the whole thing looked like she was in pain. Suddenly, I felt a little self-pitying. 2 “Ryan, it’s my birthday today.” “And you brought me to eat this half-price special we had to share.” I could forgive that it didn’t include the famous cheesy fries advertised on the poster. But even the food that did arrive had to be split down the middle with the other couple we’d bundled the deal with. Four meatballs on the plate? We got two. One bowl of pasta? We split it. I was forced to use one of those embarrassing tiny “kids’ cups.” Ryan reached out his long fingers and delicately wiped my chin with a handkerchief he always kept in his pocket. “Fiona, for my birthday, you bought me a latte. It was one of those BOGO deals.” He completely dropped his usual subservient, ‘yes, darling’ attitude. He was keeping score. Well, damn. He didn’t love me; he loved the imaginary Fitzgerald heiress. In that case, I wasn’t holding back either. I held up both hands, wiggling all ten fingers. “You have, like, twelve ‘babes’ in your contact list. I don’t have enough fingers to count them.” Ryan looked horrified. “You know perfectly well those are the actual babies I babysit at the after-school center!” I covered my ears, refusing to listen. He got defensive and started listing my ‘Ten Sins.’ “Fiona, you made me eat cilantro-flavored instant noodles for ten days straight, just so you could get a free ramen bowl.” “I hate cilantro.” I felt a little guilty, but not much. “So what? You didn’t have to use the seasoning packet!” Ryan’s eyes were bloodshot. “Last year, you bought me a parka.” “You insisted I wear it when it was cold, then take it off for you when you got cold.” “The problem is, you wore just a sweater in the dead of winter and started complaining the second we left the classroom. I had to stand there freezing my butt off!” That was only because I could only afford one parka. And I bought it for you without hesitation! I got fired up, too. “Every time we got those cheap lemonade drinks from ‘Icy Brew,’ you’d take huge gulps and swallow all the lemon seeds.” “You licked the yogurt lids clean, and you used the empty hot sauce packets to dip your bread!” … After going through all our old complaints, I had a sudden epiphany. It was all poverty’s fault. When we thought the other was a secret rich kid, these moments were cute quirks. But if we were both genuinely poor, it was terrifying. His unconditional devotion came with an invisible no financial conditions clause. Even if he gave me the world, we’d have no place to live after graduation! I blurted out, “We’re done! Break up!” Ryan was stunned. “You’re dumping me just because I’m broke?” No, it’s because we’re both broke. But I didn’t explain. I just repeated: “We’re breaking up.” We immediately divided our hustles right there. The errand running and shopping gigs went to him. The class covering and homework writing jobs went to me. Since the campus market was huge, we even signed a “Post-Breakup Professional Cooperation Treaty.” We promised not to sabotage each other’s business out of spite and to share good money-making opportunities. As for streaming subscriptions, we agreed to alternate days until the end of the month. Same for our shared dining hall card. 3 This led to us still eating together in the dining hall for two weeks after breaking up. My roommate was puzzled. “Is your breakup really this amicable?” I replied: “You just don’t understand the struggle of the truly broke.” On the very last day of the month, after draining the last penny from the dining hall card, I suddenly remembered the box of condoms we’d bought. Ryan’s nose was red, and his ears were flushed. “Should we… use them all up?” I checked. There were eight left. My face felt hot. “I don’t think we should…” Ryan, for the first time since the breakup, stood his ground, grabbing my hand. “I can handle it.” But he was young and naive. Three hours in the cheap motel room wasn’t nearly enough. We had to book the room for the entire night, an extra two hundred dollars. I got angrier the more I thought about the wasted money. I adamantly refused to let Ryan sleep, insisting we had to “work” until we got that two hundred dollars’ worth back. That is, until… I collapsed with shaky legs during gym class. I instantly regretted my frugality. I shouldn’t have been so cheap as to use up all eight in one insane night. My back and legs were sore for three days; I could barely jog. Catching sight of Ryan’s dark eyes across the field, a memory flashed through my mind: that night, the fierce possessiveness in his eyes as he leaned over and gripped my ankle. His sharp abs, his defined collarbone, and his burning breath. The day was too hot; it made my mouth dry. I shook my head frantically, trying to dispel those lingering, sensual thoughts. An ex-boyfriend? I didn’t have time for nostalgia. The hustle was the priority. My “paralyzed” dad, my “frail” mom, and my grandmother with “osteoporosis” were all counting on me. I couldn’t afford to add to my burden. It would crush me. 4 After ending the relationship, I poured all my non-academic energy into making money. Covering classes and writing papers was just my baseline. I also started bulk-buying fruit, doing gaming companionship, and offering laundry services… College students were simply too lazy. I couldn’t not make money. The profits were endless. My only problem was the lack of time; I wished the day had 25 hours for hustling. My club president, Jessie, noticed my relentless work ethic and took pity on me. “Sweetie, you’re only making peanuts.” She scanned me up and down and nodded. “You’ve got decent looks.” “I’m going to show you how to earn the big bucks.” I clutched my chest. “Jessie, I only do artistic stuff.” Jessie laughed. “You wish! You wrote ‘None’ in the special skills section of your club application.” Me: “…” That’s how I discovered Jessie was a minorly famous Cosplayer. She booked a commercial gig for me, taught me how to do my makeup, and styled my hair. Luckily, the character, D.Va, was one I knew well, so I didn’t need to cram. On the day of the event, my limbs were stiff as I awkwardly posed for photos. Then I turned and saw Ryan. He was wearing the matching couples’ cosplay outfit, dressed as my CP (romantic pairing) character, Genji. The CP fans went wild, constantly urging us to take photos together. Ryan and I had to grit our teeth and pose, our eyes devoid of affection, filled only with the determination to outshine the other. A fan held up a sign: “GenVa 99, Never Break Up.” As a cosplay newbie, I hadn’t seen this level of fanaticism. Ryan blushed and quietly leaned closer. I shoved him away. “Don’t you dare try to steal my spotlight!” Jessie had told me the event organizers gave separate bonuses for excellent solo shots. Taking joint photos would only ruin my chances. Seeing the fans absolutely losing it over our pairing, I decided to pull out the big guns. I touched the headband I was wearing. “Do you know why my angelic headset is attached with metal wire?” “Because he’s actually dead, and mine is just a prop.” Fans: “Stop cutting us! We beg you!” I kept twisting the knife: “Do you know why he’s always young in every game? Because he died young.” Fans: “Nooooo!” “Boohoohoo! How can such a beautiful mouth say such cold words, sensei?” The CP shippers were shattered and quickly dispersed. Ryan whispered in my ear: “Who was the one who loved taking selfies in my arms? Now you can’t even stand a joint photo.” Perfect. He still didn’t know about the bonus. I remained silent, focusing only on my solo shots. Thanks to my effort, I finally got the one thousand dollar bonus. Ryan had left early. After the event, I learned he’d been scouted by an agency for his good looks. I was indignant. “Why him and not me? I’m good-looking, too!” Jessie rolled her eyes. “Hollywood isn’t short on beautiful women. It’s short on beautiful men.”

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My mother announced in the family group chat that she was bringing home a foster daughter. The foster daughter lied, claiming she was a bright, underprivileged student recommended by a charity foundation. But what she didn’t know was that my family could hear my thoughts. As the foster daughter bent over backward to butter up my dad, I mentally scoffed: [If Dad knew she was Mom’s illegitimate daughter with her lover, he’d probably have a heart attack and end up in the ICU, right?] In my past life, when Ava White moved in, everyone in the family showered her with attention. I, however, was assaulted by thugs she hired and brutally murdered in the company parking lot. Only in my last moments did I realize the truth: she was my mom’s daughter by her long-time affair. If my dad hadn’t built the Carrington Group from scratch, my mom would never have married him. After they married, my mom’s sole obsession was to seize the family fortune and leave my dad penniless. Everything was going according to her plan, until I inexplicably got a second chance. 1 I was reborn on the day my mom brought Ava home. “From now on, Ava is your little sister. You have to take good care of her, okay?” My mom said, beaming. Ava hid slightly behind my mom, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, the picture of vulnerability. In the previous life, this pathetic act fooled every single person in the Carrington household. My dad, seeing her, offered a kind smile and reached out to pull her closer. I internally sneered. [Ha! This is Mom’s daughter with her boyfriend. If Dad knew, wouldn’t he be having a massive heart attack?] My dad’s hand suddenly froze mid-air. He looked around, searching for the source of the voice. The housekeeper was in the kitchen prepping dinner, so it was just the four of us in the living room. Finally, his gaze settled on me. “Chloe, did you say something just now?” Seeing my utterly blank expression, he started to reach for Ava again. I silently thought: [If Dad finds out the truth, it’s going to be a total blowout.] My dad immediately snatched his hand back. In the last life, my dad doted on Ava after she moved in. I never imagined that doting would ultimately destroy our whole family. Ava noticed my dad’s abrupt withdrawal and instantly put on a wounded expression. Tears welled in her eyes as she clutched my mom’s sleeve and whispered: “Aunt Lisa, does Uncle Richard not like me?” My mom stroked her head affectionately. “Don’t be silly. You’re my daughter now that you’re here, part of the Carrington family. Don’t worry.” She then told the housekeeper to prepare a guest room. “Aunt Lisa, that room is so beautiful.” Ava pointed toward the second floor. That entire section belonged to me. My room had a private balcony filled with my favorite roses. The roses were blooming in May, their fragrance filling the air—absolutely gorgeous. My mom nodded and turned to me. “Ava grew up in an orphanage. You’re the big sister, so why don’t you let her have your room?” I didn’t say anything, but I couldn’t help but complain internally. [Mom’s been ignoring me lately. I guess she was busy preparing to bring this ‘sister’ home?] My mom couldn’t hear my thoughts, but my dad heard every word. His face darkened, and he called out to the housekeeper, who was about to go upstairs. “That’s Chloe’s room. Who gave you permission to decide that?” “I’m so sorry, Mr. Carrington. I just thought the room was pretty, I didn’t mean anything else. I’m truly sorry, it’s all my fault.” Ava was quick to apologize. Even before I could open my mouth, she was already staging her little drama. In the last life, this exact behavior made my dad pity her. And because I didn’t want to give up my room, my dad ended up calling me selfish. 2 Ava sniffled. “Please don’t be mad, Uncle Richard. It’s my fault. I grew up in an orphanage and I’ve never seen a room so lovely…” Seeing her act like this, I felt my own resentment bubble up. [Dad is going to get mad again. Fine, she can have it. But Dad specially designed that room for me!] My dad looked at me, a flicker of pain in his eyes. He’d had that room remodeled for my thirteenth birthday. The company was just starting out then, and things were tough; he was constantly stressed. I’d tried to cheer him up by secretly baking him a cake. It looked like he remembered that moment. “You’re an outsider. Why should you get my daughter’s suite? That room is Chloe’s.” My dad said coldly. He then instructed the estate manager to clear out the storage room in the basement. Ava froze. She clearly hadn’t expected this outcome. She bit her lip, and tears instantly flooded her eyes. Orphanage? Please. I sneered internally. The moment my mom got the first major investment return from my dad’s company, she bought Ava a closet full of luxury goods. My mom’s old flame was facing legal trouble, which is why she rushed Ava here. Her goal was to systematically push all of us out. She claimed she wanted to find me a ‘sister’ to keep me company because I was ‘too introverted.’ In reality, it was a meticulous plot to get rid of my family and take over the Carrington Group. My dad was a workaholic, constantly focused on expanding the company. Thankfully, my mom’s plans were being foiled. My mom looked anxious and immediately grabbed my dad’s arm. “Honey, Ava’s never had anything nice. It’s natural she wants a nice room. Why are you so angry?” Then he heard my thoughts again. [Mom’s old lover has a lot of connections in the city. Confronting her now wouldn’t be smart. What if they get desperate? If Dad could just find concrete evidence of that guy’s illegal activities, we’d be safe.] My dad suppressed his rage, turned, and pulled me out of the room. My mom tried to say more but held her tongue. After all, my dad was rarely home due to work. She needed Ava to win him over, and this was their chance. But my dad was already too suspicious. My mom and Ava exchanged confused glances, probably wondering why my usually easygoing dad was suddenly so observant. Once we were in the study, my dad pulled me close and asked seriously, “Chloe, what’s wrong?” “Huh?” I feigned confusion, but internally I thought: [Dad couldn’t possibly believe them, could he? Well, he was fooled by them in the last life, which ultimately led to the Carrington family’s ruin.] His face got even darker. This time, there was a definite look of aggression in his eyes. He stood up as if to go confront my mom, but I quickly grabbed his hand. I opened my mouth, saying nothing, but my mind was racing. [No! We can’t let Dad and Mom openly fight yet. If they corner themselves, who knows what they’ll do? If Dad could just find concrete proof of that guy’s illegal activities, we’d be completely safe.] My dad paused. He looked at me intently, patted my shoulder, and left. Just like in the past life, Ava acted exceptionally sweet and sensible once she arrived. She volunteered for everything. She quickly won over the household staff. She stood politely next to my mom and told my dad with feigned envy: “Sister Chloe is so lucky. Unlike me, all I know how to do is fetch tea and pour water.” My hand, holding my coffee cup, twitched. I pulled it back as if burned, lowering my head. [Oh, it’s my fault. But if I start doing the housekeeper’s job, why are we paying them?] I bit my lip and said aloud: “I’m sorry, sister. It’s my fault. I won’t drink this coffee.” 3 Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my dad glaring at Ava, his face expressionless. Ava, thinking he was impressed by her humility, lowered her head bashfully. I chuckled internally. Ava moved closer to my dad. “Uncle Richard, please don’t be mad at my sister. She grew up having everyone wait on her…” “Enough!” My dad finally snapped. He slammed the coffee cup onto the table, making Ava jump. “Unc… Uncle… please don’t be angry. Sister is just…” She still didn’t realize why my dad was truly furious. She probably thought he was defending her, while secretly gloating. My dad glared at her and snapped: “I don’t care what games you’re playing. Since you’re here, stay put and stop pulling stunts.” He gave my mom a fierce look and walked away. Ava’s eyes widened in confusion. Once my dad was gone, my mom nervously pulled Ava aside and whispered: “What happened? Didn’t you say he’d be too focused on work to notice anything?” My mom was genuinely confused. My dad was always so gentle and agreeable with her, at least before Ava arrived. She pondered for a while, concluding he must be having company troubles. “It’s okay. As long as you’re in the Carrington house, you’ll have your chance. The most important thing now is to deal with Chloe. The Carringtons are arranging a marriage alliance for her with the Sterling Group, the wealthiest family in the city. Once Chloe is ruined…” “…you can take her place, and the Carrington Group will be ours.” The Sterling Group was a top-tier dynasty in the city. Becoming Mrs. Sterling would mean limitless wealth and status. My mom’s eyes gleamed with greed as she looked at Ava. Ava’s jaw dropped, her eyes unfocused, clearly picturing herself as the Sterling matriarch. She nodded hard. In the past life, because I’d been sheltered for so long, I had no defenses against this sudden “sister.” I indulged her every whim and even covered up her mistakes. After relentless convincing from my mom, I genuinely thought of her as family. Yet, they were snakes, destroying my family, killing the man I loved, and finally seizing the entire Carrington Group. Watching her lost in her fantasy, I unknowingly dug my nails into my palms. Did she think she would get away with it this time? In a few days, it was my 24th birthday. My dad had booked the penthouse suite at the city’s most exclusive five-star hotel for a lavish party, inviting countless business elites. 4 Ava had been much quieter these last few days, no longer seeking attention from my dad. She clearly sensed his indifference and decided not to bother him. Liam Sterling was my childhood sweetheart. We grew up together. We were truly in love. He founded his own company right after college, promising me the best life could offer. But in the past life, Ava drugged my drink, leading to my public humiliation, which ultimately devastated Liam. Seeing him again, I couldn’t stop the tears welling up. Before I could regain my composure, Ava rushed over to him. Her gaze was overtly predatory as she addressed him. “Are you Mr. Sterling? I’ve heard so much about your ambition and success. Seeing you today, you truly are impressive.” In the past life, she used the same tactics to get close to Liam. Liam, like me, was young and naive, easily caught off guard. Although he hadn’t been receptive to Ava in the last life, he hadn’t truly guarded himself against her either. Ava’s relentless pursuit, born from her twisted desire, eventually led to Liam’s misery. I remained silent, thinking: [What do I do? Ava is starting again. Liam is so pure; what if she fools him?] I could feel Liam’s eyes locked on me. His brow was slightly furrowed, seemingly confused. [Ava is always targeting me. Mom only cares about her biological daughter and completely ignores me. What should I do?] [If Liam knew she was the one who killed us both in the past, he’d go ballistic.] Liam’s expression grew progressively colder. Ava, oblivious, continued to chatter beside him. “Mr. Sterling, I read your company’s project plan; it’s brilliant. I love studying finance, but I hear Sister Chloe isn’t very interested in things like that…” Before she could finish, Liam harshly pushed her away. “Get lost!” This was a side of Liam I’d never seen. He was usually gentle and polite; this was the first time he’d lost his temper so dramatically. He shoved her so hard that Ava tumbled to the ground. Ava’s face was bright red, but she didn’t dare speak up. She climbed back up reluctantly, tears in her eyes, adopting her usual helpless expression. “I don’t know if Sister Chloe said something, but Mr. Sterling, you seem to really dislike me.” The surrounding guests noticed the commotion. “Isn’t that the foster daughter Mrs. Carrington brought home from the orphanage?” “Yes, I heard she was adopted from a really poor one. Poor girl.” “Right? The Carrington heiress seems so petty and small-minded.” Ava listened contentedly to the gossip, hoping Liam would sympathize with her and be drawn to her. [No wonder everyone hates me. Maybe I should just leave.] I lowered my head, about to turn away. Liam quickly stepped forward and grabbed my hand. Then, he turned and spoke sternly to Ava. “Stay away from me. Also, I don’t recall Chloe having a sister. Stop trying to claim family connections.” Seeing her opportunity slipping away, Ava grew desperate.

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I died unexpectedly in childbirth, only to wake up fifteen years later. On my first day back, I discovered that the daughter I died giving birth to was being tormented by my husband’s supposed “White Moonlight” and her daughter. My husband himself had transformed into a ‘Zen Master’ of the New York elite, perpetually shrouded in incense smoke and detached from the world. So, I grabbed him by the hair, slapped him three times, and coldly stated, “Is this how you mourn me, Ethan?” 1 I struggled to open my eyes and found myself standing right next to my old high school. There were a few pedestrians on the sidewalk, some glancing curiously at my dazed state. Ten minutes later, staring up at the sky, I had to face the facts. I hadn’t just been reborn; I’d jumped fifteen years into the future. Gathering myself, I borrowed a phone from a stranger and called my late husband, Ethan Shaw. After a few rings, the call connected. “Hello, who is this?” The familiar male voice came through the speaker—still smooth, but with a deeper, more magnetic maturity than before. My nose stung. Tears welled up as I said, choked with emotion, “Ethan Shaw, it’s Sophia Hayes. I know this is hard to believe, but I think I… time-traveled? I’m near our old high school now. Just come pick me up.” A long silence followed on the other end. Just as I was about to say something to lighten the mood, the man on the phone suddenly sneered, his voice laced with scorn: “I don’t know where you people got my number, but tell whoever is behind you to come up with a better trick next time. Thinking you can fool me just by imitating her voice? How pathetic. Have some dignity.” Ethan’s unexpected verbal assault stunned me. My fingers went cold, and then uncontrollable fury boiled up. Ignoring where I was, I lashed out: “Ethan, are you serious right now? You can’t tell the difference between your own wife’s voice and a fake? You’ve wasted the last fifteen years, haven’t you?” The line went silent. I continued my rant: “I don’t care where you’re messing around. I’m telling you, if you’re not here in half an hour, you better clean up your own mess and die!” With that, I hung up. The stranger stared at me in shock. I offered her an apologetic smile and handed back the phone. She took it, hesitated, then asked: “Excuse me… are you looking for Ethan Shaw from Shaw Industries? I’m sorry, but you had it on speaker, and his voice sounded familiar…” I paused, then nodded, asking tentatively: “You know him?” She let out a breath and waved her hand, saying: “Everyone in this city knows the Shaw Prince.” 2 Seeing my curiosity and assuming I was a friend of Ethan’s, her gossip antenna went up. She eagerly spilled the tea: “After Mrs. Shaw died giving birth, she left behind one daughter. Everyone thought Mr. Shaw would remarry soon, especially since his ‘White Moonlight’ made a huge deal about moving back to the country. But after growing Shaw Industries into a giant, Mr. Shaw just… announced he was giving up worldly life. No one knows where he is, though he occasionally shows up at the annual corporate gala. But I heard…” “Heard what?” I prompted. The stranger paused, then continued: “Well, this is just a rumor, but they say Mr. Shaw and his ‘White Moonlight’ are getting back together soon. Everyone’s betting he’ll come out of his spiritual retreat for her. After all, she’s the big-time actress, Holly Green. What man could resist that?” I raised an eyebrow and let out a cold laugh. “Looks like I showed up just in time for Ethan’s wedding cake.” The stranger saw the dark look on my face, realized she’d overshared, quickly took her phone, and scurried off. Two shocks in a row right after I time-traveled. I felt the sadness hit me hard. If Ethan and his ‘White Moonlight’ were truly soulmates, I wouldn’t interfere. I didn’t have the right to expect him to mourn me for fifteen years. But I hadn’t even seen my daughter yet. I had no idea how she was doing. Based on what I knew about Ethan, he’d probably send her to our alma mater. Getting out of the taxi, the familiar school gates came into view. Suddenly, I heard a commotion. I looked up and saw a group of bleached-blond delinquents roughhousing and cornering a small, meek, short-haired girl near the school entrance. It was clearly bullying. I frowned. This was supposed to be the city’s top private academy. How could this be happening? For some reason, the short-haired girl looked vaguely familiar. I couldn’t help but follow them. The group led the girl into a secluded alley. The leader, a girl with a pretty, innocent face, did something shocking. She kicked the short-haired girl right in the stomach. The girl crumpled to the ground, crying out in pain. The leader sneered: “I hear Uncle Ethan got you some super expensive birthday present. Hand it over so we can all see it.” The short-haired girl hugged her backpack tightly, trembling. “I can’t do that!” The leader kicked her again, her face twisting with a malice that didn’t suit her age. She spat at the girl and hissed: “Anna Shaw, don’t be an idiot!” The moment I heard the name, my heart seized up. Anna Shaw… Ethan and I had agreed on that name for our child, whether it was a boy or a girl. I looked sharply at the girl on the ground. Even with her heavy, short hair obscuring her face, I could see the bright, familiar eyes. That spitting image of me! Who else could it be but my daughter? Just then, the tall girl looked down and ordered the others: “Grab her backpack! Then strip her clothes off. This time, we’ll teach her a lesson for disrespecting me!” 3 My eyes narrowed. The last shred of my sanity burned away in a flash of pure rage. I wanted to tear these bullies limb from limb. Oh, Ethan Shaw. This is how my daughter spends her days, huh? I snatched a wooden stick from beside a dumpster, rushed forward, shoved through the crowd, and shielded Anna. The tall girl jumped when she saw my face. Then, as if triggered, she yelled: “This doesn’t concern you, old lady! Buzz off before we beat you too!” “Save your breath,” I said coldly. “None of you are getting away.” A bunch of overgrown kids. When I rescued Ethan from kidnappers single-handedly, these punks hadn’t even been born. I casually stretched my muscles. Thank goodness my body was still in its twenties; otherwise, this might actually be a challenge. A few minutes later, the blond delinquents were sprawled on the ground, whimpering. I planted my heel firmly on the leader’s face and twisted, but it still didn’t satisfy me. I delivered two hard kicks to her stomach. That squared the score for the kicks she gave my daughter. The leader was spitting blood and twitching, her high-and-mighty attitude gone. She slurred: “My mom… my mom won’t let you get away with this! Uncle Ethan won’t either!” “Ooh, who’s your mom?” I enjoyed watching her humiliation. “Tell me all about her. I want to see which major tramp raised this little tramp.” “Her mom… her mom is Holly Green,” Anna, who had been shaking behind me, finally managed to say a complete sentence. She carefully tugged my jacket and said anxiously: “Please, ma’am, you have to leave! If her mom finds out, you’ll be in danger…” Hearing that name again, my heart sank. I knew exactly why my daughter was the way she was now. I pulled Anna into a fierce hug, gently stroked her soft hair, and whispered: “Don’t worry, sweetie. Mommy’s here to protect you.” Anna’s eyes widened slightly. She whispered back: “Mommy… are you… Mommy?” Mother and daughter, connected by an unspoken bond. It often doesn’t need words, just a look. Anna instantly believed that the powerful, beautiful woman standing before her was her mother. I helped Anna slowly walk out of the dark alley, only to run straight into an unwelcome guest. “Dad… why are you here?” Anna asked timidly. 4 Speak of the devil. I looked up. The man in front of me looked almost the same, only broader and with a more mature, composed demeanor. It was as if fifteen years had only left a speck of dust on him. “Ethan Shaw, long time no see,” I said coolly. Ethan’s eyes went red the moment he saw me. He reached out a trembling hand, trying to touch my face. The moment he made contact, he jerked his hand back as if burned, staring at me in confusion: “Sophia… it’s really you. You’re back.” Feeling my daughter’s grip tighten on my arm, my expression hardened. Ethan clearly felt uncomfortable under my gaze, finally realizing the situation. The tall girl, beaten senseless behind him, crawled toward Ethan like he was her savior, weakly begging him to save her and kill the evil woman who attacked her. Ethan frowned, looking at the girl on the ground, his voice tinged with irritation: “Not you again?” I cut him off: “So? Are you going to kill me to avenge your ‘White Moonlight’?” Ethan frowned deeper: “What ‘White Moonlight’? Don’t you know who I am?” “I don’t care who you are. Ethan Shaw, you have utterly disappointed me.” With that, I walked past him, pulling Anna along. Ethan violently grabbed my arm, his eyes so red they looked like they might bleed. He practically screamed: “Don’t you dare leave! You are not taking another step away from me!” “Smack!” A loud crack echoed in the silence. The surrounding area went quiet. Even the groaning delinquents shut up, and Anna’s mouth dropped open. Ethan’s face was turned to one side from the blow. He stared at me blankly. I ground out: “Our daughter is bullied like this, and you clearly knew nothing—or worse, didn’t care. Which is it?” “Smack!” Another sharp crack. Ethan’s face snapped to the other side, and tears finally began to fall. I continued: “No time for your daughter, but plenty of time to chase your ‘White Moonlight’ and make it front-page news? Aren’t you ashamed?” “Smack!” A final loud crack. I pointed directly at Ethan’s nose and said, every word like a punch: “Ethan Shaw, this is how you honor my memory?”

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The city’s hottest billionaire heir sneaked into my house late at night and stole my dog. Once he had him, he posted on Instagram: “Finally got my son back.” The picture was of him and a gigantic Alaskan Malamute. Half an hour later, the current It-Girl actress posted a selfie from her house: “Waaah, Daddy took my doggie. I’m so lonely by myself.” The topic blew up. Everyone swooned over their perfect celebrity romance. I returned to my penthouse after recording my show and saw the empty apartment. Wait! Where the hell is my dog? 1 I got home from filming a reality show late in the morning. Usually, the moment he hears me entering the security code, my dog bolts over, scratching frantically at the door. Today, there was silence. I pushed the door open and called his name: “Monster.” “Where are you? Mommy’s home.” I called several times, but he didn’t respond. I searched every room. I went through the entire place and couldn’t find him. Fearing something terrible happened to Monster, I immediately checked the security footage. On the screen, Rhys Shaw, the city’s billionaire prince, crept stealthily up to my door. He looked left, then right. He punched in the code and entered. Monster, who hadn’t seen him in two weeks, shamelessly wagged his tail and whined excitedly. Rhys clipped the leash onto him and led him out. The whole dog-napping process was so slick it made me laugh from sheer disbelief. I pulled Rhys’s number out of my blocked list and initiated a video call. He must have anticipated my call because he answered instantly, then pouted and turned away from the camera in classic arrogant fashion: “Hmph! Didn’t we say whoever looks back first is the dog? Why are you calling me?” I looked at Monster lying beside him, happily crunching on a treat. “Do you think I’d call you if you hadn’t broken into my house and stolen my dog?” “Do you even know what trespassing and grand theft are?” Rhys is Grandma Shaw’s favorite grandchild, pampered and arrogant since birth. He leaned back on the sofa, running his hand over Monster’s head, sounding pleased: “I took my son home. What law did I break?” I reminded him: “I bought Monster!” Rhys’s thin lips curved into a smile: “And I raised him from two months old. If you want to see Monster, come home.” I was exhausted from a day of filming and didn’t want to argue: “I’ll give you a million dollars. Monster is mine!” At that, Rhys shot up like a husky whose tail had been stepped on: “Serena Wu, you’ve got some nerve!” He angrily hung up the call. A few minutes later, Rhys deliberately posted a photo with Monster on Instagram, captioning it: “Sneaked my son away from my girlfriend.” I chuckled: “Immature.” 2 Early the next morning, I was woken up by my agent rushing me off to a taping. Last night, Rhys had hung up the video call, only to call back later, shamelessly claiming Monster missed his mom. I leaned against the car seat, half-asleep, and habitually checked the trending topics. To my shock, the top three spots were all about Rhys. #BillionairePrinceRhys Secretly Confirms Romance with Isla Chen! # #BillionairePrinceRhys Late-Night Dog Theft # #IslaChen Responds, Admitting Relationship # #BillionairePrinceRhys IslaChen Wedding Bells? # #SerenaWu Regrets Bullying Prince Rhys’s Girlfriend # I laughed at that last one. Who came up with that title? Isn’t that embarrassing? ‘Prince Rhys’s Girlfriend’? I should be Queen! Ever since Isla Chen debuted, every time she trends, she has to drag me down, giving me a reputation for stealing her resources. I clicked on a comment and went to Isla Chen’s Instagram. Her latest post, from last night, was a pajama selfie: “Waaah, Daddy took my doggie. I’m so lonely by myself.” It was posted half an hour after Rhys’s. Isla had even tagged him. The topic exploded that night, and major influencers reposted it. Netizens even spliced together unrelated videos of the two of them. [OMG! My favorite two people are together!!] [Three months ago, a paparazzo caught them skiing in Australia. The Prince denied taking ‘My Princess’ then. He’s eating his words now, LOL.] [My Princess, are you making it official because you’re getting engaged?] [The Prince is so humble around My Princess. He had to sneak in at night just to see the dog, LOL.] [Prince Rhys spoils My Princess so much! I’m so jealous!] Me: ?? Did Rhys steal Isla Chen’s dog last night? But didn’t she say in an interview that she was afraid of dogs and would never own one? 3 I scanned the comments. A follower asked her: [Are you and Prince Rhys really together?] Isla didn’t reply. A few minutes later, she liked several highly-liked comments wishing her and Prince Rhys a long and happy marriage. This confirmed the rumors that she and Rhys were an item. [My Princess has made it so obvious! The person asking above must be a hater sent by Serena Wu’s team.] [Asking is being a hater? If they’re really together, why hide it? I bet they’re faking it for clout!] [There must be a reason My Princess isn’t admitting it directly. Haters, leave!] [My Princess will announce it on Instagram immediately when she can! Trolls, scram!] The critics were annoyed and jumped over to Rhys’s comment section: [Mr. Shaw, is Isla Chen really your girlfriend?] Rhys quickly replied: [Says who? I don’t even know her!!] Isla’s fans (The Princess Crew) were upset: [My Princess will be so sad if she sees you say that.] Rhys immediately retorted: [Why should I care if she’s sad? Also, I don’t eat gruel, stop calling her ‘Princess Porridge’!] These comments quickly shot to the top. Netizens immediately screenshotted the exchange and posted it on Isla Chen’s page: [Stop lying! The Prince says he doesn’t know Isla Chen. You are so full of yourself.] The Princess Crew immediately swarmed the comment section: [We told you, he can’t confirm yet! Of course, the Prince has to deny it!] [Serena Wu’s fans have nothing better to do, always harassing My Princess.] [Just the other day, a famous singer also denied a relationship at first, but later confirmed it and now streams their love life constantly.] My agent saw the trending topics, her face grim. “You and Isla Chen debuted at the same time and both have the ‘Independent It-Girl’ brand. Your fan bases have always been feuding.” “Now that she’s connected to Mr. Shaw, she’s going to crush you.” My brain was overheating. Isla Chen would do anything for attention. She was actually impersonating Rhys’s girlfriend. My agent, seeing I was distracted, tried to console me: “Don’t worry too much. I’ll try to keep your work separate from Isla Chen’s. Today is the final episode of this show, so keep your distance and avoid confrontation.” 4 The production RV stopped at the filming location. As soon as I got out, cameras were on me. [Serena Wu’s dark circles are terrible. She definitely didn’t sleep after Princess Porridge and the Prince made it official, LOL.] [Look how sour she looks. She’s definitely green with envy.] [Did The Princess Crew forget to brush their teeth this morning? So much hostility.] [If Serena Wu tries to steal resources from My Princess again, Mr. Shaw will blacklist her instantly.] [The Prince will be hand-delivering resources to My Princess from now on.] I walked into the villa where we were filming. The other guests were gathered around Isla Chen, sucking up to her. The show is called Let’s Date. It features four men and four women living together for three days and two nights, all filmed live. As soon as I entered, the director focused the camera on Isla Chen and asked if her post with the Prince was an official announcement. “Well…” Isla Chen’s cheeks turned pink. She said shyly: “You’ll all know soon enough~” The director, eager to capitalize on the ratings, pressed on: “Can My Princess tell us what happened last night? Was the Prince’s late-night post a sign of affection?” Isla Chen playfully stamped her foot: “He insisted on bringing the dog to keep me company while I film. I said no, so he childishly sneaked the dog out while I was working.” I watched Isla Chen’s immersive performance, staring at her in disbelief. How could she weave such a detailed story without blinking? I couldn’t help but interject: “Didn’t you say in an interview that a dog bit you when you were a kid and you’d never own one?” 5 Isla Chen smiled shyly, looking at the camera: “I thought I would never have a dog again, but he gave me such a sense of security that I learned to love dogs again.” [OMG!! That is so sweet! My Princess is practically glowing with happiness talking about the Prince.] [My Princess’s smile is so sweet. If these two aren’t real, I’ll never believe in love again.] [How jealous is Serena Wu? She remembers everything My Princess said in an interview. Gross.] [Serena Wu always bullies My Princess! Stealing her screen time! Stealing her resources!!] [Who is the resource thief? My Queen lost that jewelry endorsement to Isla Chen a while ago! And Isla Chen is playing the victim? Give me a break!] [The brand thought My Princess had a better fit. She didn’t steal anything!] [Can Mr. Shaw please blacklist Serena Wu already!!] The director watched the live stream numbers explode. He inwardly cheered; the ratings were guaranteed. He was about to delve into how Isla Chen and Rhys met when a production assistant jogged over and whispered something in his ear. The director nodded, his eyes crinkling happily as he looked at Isla Chen: “My Princess, Mr. Shaw sent you a gift. He said it’s here to keep its mother company while she films.” One of the guests gasped: “Is it the dog?!”

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Everyone in the industry knows I’m the ex-girlfriend that top singer Jax “The King” Ryder despises most. On a reality show, a junior idol casually turned on the car stereo, playing the default playlist. The first song was mine. Two seconds into the intro, Jax, sitting in the passenger seat, said coldly: “Trash. Skip it.” The idol skipped it. The next song was mine. He skipped it again. Still my song. Jax’s face was dark. He glanced at the driver and sighed: “Kid, you’re young, but your taste is terrible.” The idol hesitated, then weakly spoke up: “Uh, Jax… this is your car, and that’s your playlist, dude.” Jax: “—Wait, what?!” 1 Jax and I are the Entertainment Industry’s Most Famous Opposing Exes. Our track record is legendary. Since we debuted, roughly one-third of our songs have been diss tracks aimed at each other. I don’t remember who started it. All I know is: he drops one, I drop one. He drops one, I drop one… Hatred is the number one driver of production. Fueled by Jax’s taunts, I managed to release ten albums in two years. When we were dating, only our closest friends knew. But nothing escapes the all-seeing eye of the internet. Our songs never named names, but when fans mashed our lyrics together, every single line sounded like a public feud. #JaxAndLena: Hollywood’s Pure-Hate CP #JaxAndLena: Did They Dig Up Each Other’s Ancestors? #JaxAndLena: Why Did They Break Up? How Can They Hate This Much? These kinds of twisted, viral hashtags kept hitting the trending list. As long as we were breathing, the drama continued. Jax and I consistently topped the charts as the Hottest Male and Female Artists for over a year. Then, at the end of the year, the platform invited us to accept an award. The host asked: “To both of you, now that you’ve achieved such success, is there anyone specific you want to thank?” I listed everyone dutifully: “I thank my family, my friends, my agent, my fans…” Jax, however, looked right at me: “I want to thank my ex-girlfriend for dumping me back then. She gave me endless inspiration for heartbreak songs. She is…” His lips curled slightly, a fake, chilling smile. “…my Muse.” Online, he calls me “a golem freshly chipped out of a horror movie” and “Picasso’s abstract painting brought to life.” And now, offline, I’m his Muse? That smug jerk. Always with the passive-aggression. On the drive home, I wrote a new song: Muse is just your cheap fake tear Packing up lies to hide your fear Washed up, voice cracked, who’s to blame here? Better go home and disappear Your inspo jumped ship when you lost me New album’s dead, not a mystery You got dumped, that’s your destiny That night, I immediately posted the new song demo and a teaser for my new album on Instagram. Fans went wild and immediately tagged Jax. It wasn’t until late that night that His Royal Highness, Jax, finally logged on. He first liked my post, then added a comment that was both friendly and aggressively passive: [6.] [Lena Shaw, you just wait. ‘Smiley Face’] 2 Making Jax miserable always makes me happy. I slept until noon. My agent, Deb, called, saying I had to attend a red-carpet gala. Deb gave me a warning beforehand: “I heard Jax is going to be there, too.” “If you don’t want to buy an annual subscription to the trending list, just be mature, say hello, and at least pretend to be civil.” I thought Deb was overreacting. With so many artists there, we probably wouldn’t even cross paths. I was wrong. The organizers, sent from hell, seated me right next to Jax! The moment I sat down, a figure quickly dropped into the seat beside me. He wore a dark blue bespoke suit, emphasizing his broad shoulders and long legs. His sculpted face looked, well, decent. Seeing the cameras flash in the distance and remembering Deb’s urgent plea, I forced a smile. Just pretend to be friendly? I can be the friendliest person here. “Good evening, Mr. Muse.” “Well, look who it is, Miss Rhyme-Time,” Jax smirked. “What, did you suddenly learn to be human? You’re actually saying hello to me?” See? You can’t give this guy an inch! The event was being live-streamed. As the camera swept over us, the comments section went ballistic: [Mr. Muse and Miss Rhyme-Time are in the same frame! Please lock the camera on them!] [Dark blue suit paired with a deep blue gown. What a beautiful couple.] [Please, Jax and Lena, date again! Just do it for my entertainment.] Truth be told, people in the industry are the biggest gossips. Since I walked in, several people had already subtly asked me what the deal was between Jax and me. Right now, I could feel countless eyes boring into us. Jax was uncomfortable under the scrutiny, too. He turned his head slightly, his ear tips turning red. I silently looked down— Wow, this table is so… table-y. Hahaha… In the comments, my fans and Jax’s fans were already locked in a fierce battle. But a strange new sentiment was starting to emerge. [Don’t you guys think Jax and Lena look like they’re just cold-shouldering each other out of hate?] [What is hate? Hate is just love that couldn’t handle the pressure.] [I feel like all their hatred is just them hating that the other person didn’t love them enough.] [A healthy relationship is nice, but a messed-up one has a certain flavor. Those who don’t get it are missing out!] 3 I couldn’t take it anymore. I scanned the room, looking for someone to swap seats with. “Sitting next to me is that much of a sacrifice for you, Miss Shaw?” I glared at Jax. “Mind your own business.” I didn’t know many people well. After searching for a long time, I still felt awkward asking for help. Ugh. Just endure it. Jax, seeing my defeated slump, looked even more smug: “I told you, give up. Being stuck with me is your destiny.” … Psycho. “Lena, want to swap seats with me?” A familiar voice called out. I turned around. Alec Sterling, the famous actor, was standing behind me. “Thank you, thank you! Thank you so much, Alec! You are saving me!” I stood up. “Hey, you…” Jax subconsciously grabbed my wrist. “What? You’ll miss me?” “Hah,” he scoffed, his mouth twitching as he slowly let go. “Please, get away from me. I couldn’t be happier.” [Lena stood up, and he instantly reached for her. See that? He’s panicked.] [Oh God, who dares to walk between Jax and Alec? The air pressure is so low, it feels like everything within a hundred feet is freezing.] [Rumor has it Lena and Alec dated, too. Judging by Jax’s dark-as-asphalt face, the rumors must be true.] [Rivals seeing rivals, the tension is real.] [I envy Lena. She has great taste. Everyone she dated is a total knockout.] That’s total misinformation. Alec is my aunt’s son—my cousin. My parents were overseas and neglected me, so I grew up at my aunt’s house. Alec is basically my brother. He starred in the music video for my new single a while ago, and we were briefly linked by the press. Jax still doesn’t know the truth about us. But I certainly wasn’t going to tell him. Alec was rushing to another commitment and had to leave before the event ended. Before leaving, he reminded me about my aunt’s birthday party next week. “Bro, what kind of gift would make Aunt Kathy happy?” “I think bringing a boyfriend home would make her happiest.” I pouted. “She’s always pushing. I just haven’t found anyone suitable.” “Oh, I see,” Alec chuckled. “I thought maybe you couldn’t get over your ex.” “No way! I haven’t liked him for ages!” Alec cleared his throat, nodding toward the space behind me. I turned around. I was met with Jax’s intense, resentful gaze. If looks could be lasers, my dear cousin would have two holes burned through him right now. [I won’t say who’s jealous, but I can smell the sourness through the screen.] [Jax: Alec, I will monitor you forever! Forever!] [Lena, go comfort him! I think he’s about to shatter.] I squinted and smiled. Then, out of the camera’s view, I subtly flipped him the bird. Heh heh! Jax shot me a furious glare. He turned away, his face pale with anger, his lips pressed into a tight, straight line. He didn’t look my way again. Little man. Can’t handle a joke. 4 One should never get carried away. Too excited from teasing Jax, I forgot I was wearing four-inch heels and twisted my ankle. My ride, of course, broke down halfway. I was hobbling alone through the dark underground parking garage. It was a truly pathetic sight. “Well, look at Ms. Shaw. Enjoying a midnight stroll barefoot?” A black Lexus SUV stopped in front of me. The rear window lowered. “Stroll, my butt. Can’t you see I twisted my ankle?” Jax looked at my swollen ankle, his brow furrowing. “No one picking you up? “Get in.” I held onto my dress stubbornly. “I don’t need your trouble. I can walk out and get a cab myself.” “Lena, are you getting in or not?” “No.” “Fine. Tough girl. Even tougher than when you dumped me.” The next second, Jax opened his door and lifted me over his shoulder. “You—” The sudden lift startled me. “Jax, you jerk, put me down!” He tossed me into the back seat, roughly. He then pulled out a tube of muscle rub from the glove compartment. “Take your shoe off.” “What are you doing?” “Stop talking. What do you think I’m doing? I’m going to steal your heels and sell them on eBay, okay?” Me: “…” Jax started applying the ointment, gently massaging the swollen area. It felt good. But it tickled, and I instinctively flinched. “Why are you flinching? What part of you haven’t I touched?” “Shut up, you.” “Cough, cough, cough…” A fit of violent coughing came from the front seat. “Jax, watch your words. I’m right here.” I leaned forward. “Leo! Is that you? Long time no see!” Leo is Jax’s personal assistant and has been with him for years. When Jax and I broke up, he went on a drunken bender at a bar. Leo went to pick him up, and Jax threw up all over him. Since then, Leo’s salary has tripled. So, in a way, I was the patron saint of Leo’s career. “Long time no see, Lena.” Leo is usually shy and reserved, but today he was unusually enthusiastic, asking about my life. Jax kept glaring at Leo, winking and twitching his eyebrows. I was confused. “Is your eyebrow spasming?” “Oh!” Leo suddenly understood. “Right, Lena, do you have a boyfriend right now?” If I said yes, I’d be lying. If I said no, I’d look defeated in front of my ex. I was trying to figure out how to answer. Jax interjected snidely: “Even if she does, they probably broke up. A boyfriend who runs off before his girlfriend even leaves and can’t pick her up when she twists her ankle? Useless.” I realized they were talking about Alec. I couldn’t blame Jax for the misunderstanding. I did ask Alec to pretend to be my boyfriend once just to tick Jax off. “We are not dating. Don’t spread rumors. I don’t want to be constantly trending. Got it?” “Oh, so they did break up.” Whatever. Let him think what he wants. I looked down at my phone and suddenly heard an uncontrollable burst of laughter beside me. I looked up, catching a glimpse of a fleeting smile on Jax’s face. “What are you laughing at?” “I wasn’t.” “Yes, you were! I saw it!” “Your eyes are messed up. Go get them checked.” “Want to bet? Bet your life!” “You get on your knees and beg me, and I’ll take the bet.” … Leo quietly raised the privacy screen in the front seat. This is too much.

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My sister is dead. Her body was laid to rest months ago, but today I received a text message from her phone. The message contained just three rules: “Watch out for anyone wearing red.” “The food Mom makes is safe to eat, but if you find teeth, nails, hair, or other things in it, do not tell Mom.” “Be home by 10 PM. Once inside, you must be in bed immediately!” 1 I was utterly creeped out. The message was absurd yet full of dire warnings. My sister died, and her phone was supposedly tucked away in a box under her bed as a keepsake. So how did it just send me a text? A cold dread washed over me. Unless… this was a delayed message my sister set up before she died. “Jessie, come and eat dinner.” My dad’s voice suddenly called out. He was sitting on the living room sofa, waving me over. “Dad.” I hesitated, then asked: “Did you guys touch my sister’s phone after she died?” The mention of my sister made my dad frown. His expression was strange. “What did you say?” I bit the bullet: “My sister sent me a text.” “A text? What did it say? Let me see.” Before I could react, my dad stood up and snatched my phone. A few seconds later, a faint smile appeared on his face. “Someone must have stolen your sister’s number. You don’t need to worry.” “You really don’t need to worry.” My dad repeated the phrase like a broken record. Then, he smiled, picked up the fork from the coffee table, and violently stabbed himself in the throat! His suicide was sudden, decisive, and done with incredible force. The metal tines pierced his throat. “Dad!” I screamed, rushing toward him. Bright red blood poured from my dad’s throat. He slumped onto the sofa, the faint smile still plastered on his face. “What’s wrong?” My mom walked in from the kitchen when she heard the noise. The moment I saw her, my pupils constricted. My mom… she was wearing a red dress! Yet, she always hated the color red; she didn’t even allow red items in the house. ‘Watch out for anyone wearing red.’ The message flashed in my mind again. Cold sweat prickled my back. I instantly felt wary and defensive toward my mom. “Why is your father dead?” My mom’s face showed no sign of grief, and her voice was completely flat. It was as if the person who died wasn’t her husband, but a stray cat. “I don’t know.” I kept my guard up, shaking my head. “Dad called me for dinner. When I came out, he had already stabbed himself.” Investigators arrived quickly. They were dressed bizarrely. They were men, yet they wore blood-red, ankle-length dresses. My mom claimed my dad was stressed and suffered from severe depression, leading to suicide. She was lying! My dad wasn’t depressed! He told me this morning that he was taking me swimming this weekend! I blurted out: “That’s not true! Dad he…” “He what?” The investigator stopped writing, twisting his head to look at me. I gasped, my heart hammering against my ribs! The investigator’s appearance had warped. His face was stretched long, his eyes were far apart, near his temples—as alien and sudden as a snake’s head. “Why aren’t you speaking?” His head remained still, but his ominous, jaundiced eyes slid sideways, watching me. “Please continue to elaborate!” 2 “My dad… he was indeed very depressed. He often wanted to kill himself.” I forced the words out. The investigator nodded impassively, zipped my dad’s body into a bag, and wheeled him downstairs. Their movement when lifting the body was a strange, horizontal glide. As they turned the corner on the stairs, I saw a large, greasy-looking tail poking out from beneath one of the red skirts. My eyes widened. My breath was shallow, and my hands and feet started shaking uncontrollably. The world had fractured. From the moment I received that text from my dead sister, the world had become alien and grotesque. “Dinner time soon. I need to get your sister’s meal ready.” My mom turned and headed back to the kitchen. Through the doorway, I saw her hunched over a cutting board, violently chopping meat with a cleaver. The meat didn’t look like pork. It had thin skin, no visible fat, and a grayish-white color, like it had been frozen for too long. Thump, thump, thump. The sound of the chopping was deafening. I covered my ears and bolted out the front door. It looked like rain; the sky was a dull gray. People were strolling around the neighborhood. Some were walking their dogs, some watering plants, and others playing hopscotch. But, without exception, they were all wearing red clothes. As I passed them, a wave of sheer terror washed over me. These people looked like they were minding their own business. But their eyes were tracking me. Every move I made, their eyes followed! The little girl playing hopscotch was the worst; she was hunched over, leaning forward, but her face was twisted almost 180 degrees to stare at me! Cold sweat poured down my spine; I was shaking all over. “Sis, what are you doing?” Suddenly, a bright, clear voice called out. My younger sister, Lily, was walking toward me, carrying her long-braided doll backpack. “It’s getting dark. Why aren’t you going home?” I quickly looked at Lily. She wasn’t wearing red; she had on a white princess dress. I exhaled in relief. “Dad died, and Mom is acting strange.” Lily’s face instantly went paper-white. “Did Dad see the text message?” My eyes widened. “How do you know?” “My sister sent me a message, too.” Lily raised her arm and tapped her smartwatch a few times. The tiny screen displayed a message. “When Dad sees the message I sent you two, he will surely kill himself.” “His death is punishment for breaking a rule.” “If you don’t follow the rules, you will definitely die too!” Rules? Were the three sentences in my sister’s text message the key to survival? My heart dropped. I urgently asked, “What time is it right now?” Lily looked confused. She backed out of the text screen. The main watch face showed 9:59. “Run!” I screamed, grabbing Lily’s hand and sprinting toward our apartment building. My sister’s final rule emphasized: we must be home before 10 PM and immediately get into bed! We live on the third floor. If we ran fast enough, we could make it in time. But after only two flights of stairs, my feet felt like lead; every step was agonizingly difficult. “Lily, why are you so heavy?” I turned back and saw a horrifying sight. The doll on Lily’s back had turned into a bloody, raw baby’s face! 3 “What’s wrong, Sis?” Lily looked up at me, clearly bewildered. “Nothing! Let’s just run!” I turned my head, ignoring the wrinkled baby’s face. “Ah!” Lily suddenly shrieked. In my peripheral vision, I saw the infant clinging to her back, aggressively biting her shoulder. Lily’s white dress turned red as blood dripped onto the concrete stairs. I knew this grotesque infant was trying to stop my sister and me from getting home. “It hurts so much.” Lily threw off my hand. She crouched down, clutching her shoulder in agony. “I can’t run anymore!” “No!” My nerves were stretched taut. I screamed at Lily: “If we don’t run, we’ll die!” “It really hurts, Sis. It hurts so much I feel like I’ll die if I move.” Lily shook her head, gasping for breath. I frantically looked up at our apartment, only one flight of stairs away. The apartment lights were off. The red front door was open, an incomprehensibly deep black hole. “Sis, you go first.” Lily cried, twisting her shoulder, trying to dislodge the thing on her back. But the infant seemed welded to her skin. It wouldn’t let go. “Stop wasting time!” I raised my hand and, for the first time ever, slapped my sister across the face. Lily flinched, then stood up, her eyes red, and pushed me away. I fell to the floor, scraping my palms on the cement. The pain ignited my fury. I didn’t waste another word, hauling her up by her arm and forcing her to run. Dad was dead, Mom was changed. I desperately didn’t want my only sister to die too. As we reached the third floor, the hallway light flickered on. The dim light illuminated our doorway, faintly revealing a pair of feet wearing a red dress. The feet were pressed together, bare, with startlingly white, almost goat-like skin. I gritted my teeth, dragged my sister inside, and rushed into the apartment. Click. The house lights turned on. Under the harsh, blinding light, Mom stood there in a red dress, barefoot, holding a plate with an impassive expression. She spoke, her lips barely moving: “Time to eat.” The plate held slices of meat, pale white, piled high. “Mom, we need to go to sleep.” I pulled Lily toward our bedroom. Lying on the soft bed, I tightly shut my eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. Fortunately, in the final minute, we followed the text message rule: we got inside and lay in bed. I now completely believed in the rules. Because once we were home, I saw that the biting infant on Lily’s back had turned back into the harmless, braided doll. Lily’s shoulder was completely unmarked; there was no wound or blood. “Sis…” Lily whispered my name shortly after lying down. I quickly put my finger over her lips, making a ‘shushing’ gesture. Lily went silent. I took her hand and wrote on her palm: ‘Remember Big Sister’s text!’ The third rule was: ‘Be home by 10 PM. Once inside, you must be in bed immediately!’ If we just slept, as the rule instructed, we would be safe tonight. Then, a sickening, grinding sound started up. I knew that sound. When I used to eat Mom’s braised chicken feet, I’d snap the bones, letting them break through the skin, then eat the boneless foot. But this sound of bone and tissue tearing was loud and jarring. It sounded like human bone separation… Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. I tightly clutched Lily’s hand, unable to relax. “Sis.” Lily spoke again, her voice hoarse, filled with fear and pain: “My watch is one minute behind standard time.” My heart dropped. That meant we hadn’t gotten home on time. So, was the horrifying noise I was hearing now the punishment for breaking the rule? No! No, the punishment wouldn’t be that mild. Because Lily’s hand bones were gone. I had just been holding her hand, but the bones in her palm had suddenly vanished. Her hand felt soft and rubbery, like a plastic glove filled with warm water. Filled with absolute terror, I frantically felt her stomach, arms, shoulders… Everywhere was the same. There were no hard bones beneath her skin. I opened my eyes in panic. Lying next to me was a corpse. A body completely drained of bone, looking like a human-shaped skin suit filled with water, soft and slack on the bed. It was my sister. She was no longer beautiful. Her face had melted like quicksand, erasing her features, looking twisted and utterly decomposed. “Sis.” Lily desperately forced her eyes open. The melted skin finally separated into a thin, black slit. It was her dark pupil. She mumbled something indistinct: “Don’t… believe…” Before she could finish, thud. A sharp crack echoed. The flower-shaped ceiling lamp crashed down. It landed squarely on Lily’s head. Red blood and white brain matter splattered all over me… 4 I screamed hysterically and blacked out. When I woke up again, Lily’s body was gone. The room was pristine, free of any blood. I didn’t even have any horrible, bloody stench on me. I looked up. The lamp was hanging exactly where it should be on the ceiling. Only Lily was missing. I stared at the lamp, feeling a bizarre sense of confusion. Lily and I had both gone to bed at 10:01 PM. Why was Lily dead, but I was still alive? After a long period of thought, I realized that the time specified in the final rule wasn’t objective time, but the time we subconsciously accepted based on a clock. I always believed I got home at 10 PM, so I was spared. But Lily was aware of the delay; she felt guilty. Therefore, the invisible hand of the rules extracted her bones and killed her. Suddenly, a strong aroma of roasted meat drifted in. The smell came from the kitchen. I stumbled out of bed and saw my mom with her back to me, using tongs to flip slices of meat in a frying pan. Her long black hair was loose. She was still barefoot, and her toenails were painted with red polish. But thankfully, she was wearing a white dress now, just like Lily’s. “Your sister is dead.” My mom said it without turning around. It was as if she had eyes on the back of her head. I tightly clutched the doorknob, afraid to get too close. “How did she die?” “You should know very well.” My mom turned around, looking directly at me. Her face was strange. Her eyes were red and swollen, like she had been crying in pain over Lily’s death for a long time. But starkly contrasting that grief, her lips were painted with bright red lipstick. “I don’t know.” I shook my head. “I was asleep. I don’t know how Lily died.” My mom’s expression turned sorrowful. She said, word for word: “The light fell and crushed her head.” The image of the blood and brains splattering my face flooded my mind. My fingers, gripping the doorknob, began to tremble uncontrollably. “Lily died, but why is there no blood on the bed? Why is there no sign that anyone died here?” “You slept for two days. I cleaned everything up so you wouldn’t be upset when you woke up.” My mom paused. She suddenly reached out and touched my head. “You’ve slept for two days. Are you hungry? Go sit in the living room. I’ll bring you dinner.” Her palm wasn’t cold; it was warm. The touch on my head made my nose sting. I wanted to cry. In one day, I had lost my dad and my sister. Her affectionate touch felt like the familiar, loving mom I knew was back. “Silly child. Go wash your hands and get ready to eat.” My mom patted me gently. I went to the bathroom and turned on the faucet. The moment the water hit my hands, my eyes narrowed sharply. My mom lied! I hadn’t been asleep for two days! In fact, I might have only slept for a few minutes! The scrape on my palm from falling after Lily pushed me was still beading blood! But Lily died. How could my mom have cleaned the room in mere minutes? A more terrifying thought struck me. I only slept for a few minutes. That means I hadn’t followed my sister’s final rule. After 10 PM, I had not stayed in bed!

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My husband betrayed me. I decided to kill him. Later, as his body was breaking down and he was spitting blood, he confessed to me, apologizing for hurting me. I smiled and told him it was okay; I forgave him. After all, I was the one who had put arsenic in his food and laced his clothes with paraquat, ensuring his agonizing death. 1 It was nine o’clock at night when Marcus Black came home. His shirt reeked of cheap perfume, and his neck was covered in hickeys. “Welcome home, honey.” I pretended not to notice his cheating, even walking up to him to help him take off his jacket. “Go fix me something to eat. A late-night snack.” Marcus was polite and academic in public, but at home, he dropped the façade and ordered me around without hesitation. I asked him sweetly: “What would you like, honey?” “Whatever.” I obediently walked into the kitchen. I knew the truth. Marcus didn’t love me. While I was agonizing in the delivery room, giving birth to his child, he casually told me he was cheating. He was so arrogant because he assumed our child was my only anchor, and I would never dare divorce him. Marcus was wrong. Even without the child, I wouldn’t have left him after his betrayal. The best way to deal with a scumbag isn’t to leave him. It’s to kill him! On the cutting board, I already had fresh shrimp ready. Next to the board, water was mixed with a high concentration of Vitamin C. The combination of shrimp and high-dose Vitamin C produces arsenic when consumed by the body. I heated the oil, poured the live shrimp into the pan, and the extreme heat made them twitch and struggle violently. But within seconds, they changed color and died in the sizzling oil. Soon, the fragrant shrimp and a bowl of seaweed soup fortified with Vitamin C were on the table. Marcus looked impatient. “Can’t you cook faster?” I kept my head down, looking humble and remorseful: “I’m sorry, honey.” He grunted, picked up a shrimp, and ate it. I stayed still, not daring to move, but I couldn’t stop staring at him. Eat. Eat more. The more you eat, the faster you die! Thud. A sharp shrimp head suddenly landed on my head. Marcus wiped his hands with a napkin and sneered: “I cheated, but you keep trying to please me and suck up. You’re more obedient than a dog.” I covered my forehead, maintaining the illusion of silent devotion. “Oh, Sarah Green, Sarah Green. Do you think the more I cheat, the more afraid you are of losing me, and the nicer you become?” Marcus leisurely picked up the spoon and drank the soup. After one sip, he glanced at me, spitting out venomous, repulsive words: “You are truly pathetic. If I had known you were so desperate, I would have told you sooner: I slept with another woman on our wedding night.” 2 I flinched. His dirty hands touched someone else, then came back to touch me! The disgust made me physically ill. “Haha, are you upset?” Marcus grinned, holding up three fingers: “I didn’t just sleep with one; I slept with three.” I clenched my teeth, desperately trying not to throw up. On our wedding day, I was full of expectation. But he claimed a student needed him urgently and he had to return to the university. I truly regret it now. If I had known he was chasing other women that night, I would have called the police without hesitation. After dinner, Marcus openly called his mistress right in front of me. “Baby, I miss you so much.” Before he could say more, I put on a look of unbearable pain and rushed toward the balcony. I needed Marcus to see me as a weak, helpless wife who was silently suffering from her husband’s infidelity. Only then would he lower his guard. … Marcus had a habit of drinking milk before bed. I added a sleeping pill to his glass. He was dead to the world that night. Staring at the gentle rise and fall of his throat as he breathed, an intense urge to kill surged through me. I truly wanted to take a knife and slit his throat. But as the blade touched his skin, I forced myself to stop. To plan his silent murder, I had sent our newborn daughter to stay with distant relatives and constantly acted subservient to him. I had sacrificed too much and endured too much. I couldn’t let a moment of impulse ruin everything! Next, I used Marcus’s fingerprint to unlock his phone. He had three unread messages on his social media. “Are you coming back to see me tomorrow?” “Professor, you are so handsome. Can I pursue you?” “Professor, you bought two dresses online. Which color do you want me to wear? Pink or black?” I clicked on each profile. They were all beautiful female college students. Then, I looked through his chat history. Most of the students initiated contact with Marcus. Marcus had good looks and the aura of a university professor, naturally making young women flock to him. But he didn’t sleep with every student. After a careful check, I found Marcus had slept with fifteen students. Their common traits: beautiful, not locals, and from poor backgrounds. The student who had maintained the longest relationship with Marcus was named Maya Lin. I started scrolling through Maya Lin’s social media. In a photo dated November 25, 2021, a corner of Marcus’s shoe was visible. And the message, “Professor, you bought two dresses online. Which color do you want me to wear? Pink or black?” was from Maya Lin. Hah. This cheating couple has been together for four years. I smiled coldly, a vicious plan forming in my mind. I wouldn’t let the scumbag go. And the tramp wouldn’t escape either! 3 The next morning, I prepared Marcus’s breakfast: plain porridge, fried dough sticks (you-tiao), eggs, and hot milk. The fried dough sticks were cooked in cheap oil. The porridge contained a bit of sugar. The hot milk and sugared porridge, when eaten together, create fructose-lysine. Fructose-lysine can induce coronary heart disease and vascular blockages. Marcus ate everything. After he finished and left for work, I headed to the hospital. Last night, I had thoroughly researched the student Marcus had been cheating with for four years. Maya Lin, Nursing Major, a graduating senior, currently interning at the city’s top hospital. It was the best hospital in the state; countless medical students fought tooth and nail to get in. Maya Lin got the position easily thanks to Marcus… At the hospital. I immediately recognized Maya Lin among the nurses. She was very pretty, slender, and looked innocent. “Excuse me, how do I get to Lab B21?” I pretended to be lost and approached her. “Take the elevator to the 7th floor, then walk straight, then turn right…” Maya Lin’s voice was soft, and she was patient, but I felt sick. She was the mistress! I interrupted her, acting anxious: “I don’t know the way. Can you take me?” Maya Lin hesitated, then agreed. On the way, I played the victim, weeping that I might have cancer and was dying soon. My college major was psychology; I knew how to quickly establish intimacy. Maya Lin immediately showed concern. She took me to the lab and even added me on social media, saying if I had any questions about my condition, I could message her, and she would try to help. I was surprised. She wasn’t the arrogant, aggressive mistress I had imagined. After leaving the hospital, I subtly started extracting information from Maya Lin. She had a boyfriend. But she didn’t know her boyfriend was married. She was the unsuspecting other woman. … Three months later, under my careful nourishment, Marcus started showing signs of weakness. That day, the delivery man brought a new potted plant to the door and asked for acceptance verification. Normally, I would open the door and take the package. But I was conveniently in the bathroom and couldn’t come out. Marcus was teaching an online class, so he couldn’t immediately vent his frustration at me. I sat on the toilet, watching the surveillance video on my phone. Marcus politely told his students to wait a moment. He stood up, opened the door, and impatiently took the package from the delivery man. The moment the box landed in Marcus’s hands, his body swayed downward, and his expression changed immediately. It wasn’t anger; it was shock. I was ecstatic. He must be shocked that a grown man couldn’t hold a simple box! Hahaha! Every meal I meticulously prepared for him was designed to counteract the body’s functions. Celery and rabbit meat to cause hair loss. Liquor and dog meat to suppress the heart. Banana and beef to damage the spleen. Tomato and mung beans to deplete vital energy. … Thud! The potted plant fell heavily to the floor. A few clumps of dirt spilled from the box. Marcus staggered, staring at his hands in disbelief. I laughed uncontrollably. The countdown to death had officially begun. Marcus, enjoy the last moments of your cheating life! 4 I turned off the surveillance, took a deep breath, and adjusted my expression before leaving the bathroom. “Honey, what’s wrong?” I rushed to Marcus, looking anxious. “The box has a plant; it’s light. Why can’t you hold it? Are you too stressed from work lately?” “Get lost, you pathetic…” Marcus’s curse was cut short. He seemed to remember he was still teaching. He glared at me and rushed back to his study. I smiled, tossing the spilled dirt into the trash. … During this time, thanks to my psychology expertise, Maya Lin and I became close friends. Maya Lin told me everything. She told me her boyfriend was her university professor. She said she loved him so much she even had an abortion for him… I asked tentatively: “Why did your professor ask you to have an abortion? Wouldn’t getting pregnant be the perfect way to get married?” Maya Lin lowered her head: “He said he was at a critical stage of his career and didn’t want to be distracted by a child. But he promised to make it up to me with a grand wedding later.” I pressed: “Could it be that your professor is already married and is just playing with you?” “Absolutely not!” Maya Lin said without hesitation: “He swore to me that if he ever had another woman besides me in his life, he would be struck by lightning and die a horrible death.” I rolled my eyes. Marcus said the exact same passionate words when he married me. I guess there are too many scumbags, and God can’t strike them all down. So, I’ll just have to ensure he dies a horrible death myself! … Marcus’s health worsened daily. One morning, while drinking milk, he suddenly got a nosebleed. “What is going on?” Marcus tried to wipe the blood, but it only flowed faster. “Honey, what’s wrong?” My eyes widened. I frantically reached for a tissue. Marcus pushed me away. But he had no strength. I stayed put, pretending to worry: “Honey, are you under stress? Should I make you some cooling tea?” “Get out!” Marcus roared, covering his nose and stumbling toward the bathroom. But after only two steps, he collapsed to the floor. He had passed out. “Tsk tsk. You’ve been hollowed out.” I didn’t hesitate to kick him lightly. After twenty minutes, I finally dialed 911. Three hours later, Marcus woke up in the hospital. The test results were in. The report showed absolutely nothing wrong with his body. “Nothing wrong? If nothing’s wrong, why do I bleed from my nose and pass out?!” The inexplicable symptoms made Marcus drop his pretense. He yelled at the doctor: “The lab made a mistake! I want another full body scan, blood work, and physical examination!” The doctor looked at Marcus as if he were an idiot. Marcus wasn’t stupid. He understood the doctor’s disdain, which only fueled his fury. The angrier he became, the happier I was. I acted like a busy bee, dutifully paying bills and submitting forms. At the nurses’ station, snippets of conversation drifted my way. “The patient in room 302 looks presentable, but he’s a maniac.” “I know! This is the state’s best hospital. How could the lab make a mistake?” “You’re missing the point. Didn’t you notice that patient is Maya Lin’s boyfriend?” “What? He’s Maya Lin’s boyfriend? But his file says he’s married!” “Is Maya Lin a mistress…?” The nurses’ chatter set off an alarm in my head. I absolutely couldn’t let Maya Lin find out I was Marcus’s wife. If she grew suspicious, everything I had done would be ruined. … I hardened my heart and decided to move up Marcus’s death date! I went to a remote farming supply store and bought a bottle of Paraquat, a deadly herbicide. I also bought a new shirt that Marcus often wore. Back home, I soaked the brand-new shirt in Paraquat. The shirt soaked for a day and a night, then I rinsed it repeatedly until the smell was gone. To be safe, I used a test strip to check the Paraquat levels. Only after confirming they were minimal did I iron the shirt and put it in a luxury box to give to Maya Lin. “I bought this shirt for my husband, but it didn’t fit.” I gave the high-end gift box to Maya Lin, smiling: “I bought it overseas, so I can’t return it. Since you mentioned your boyfriend is the same size, I thought you might want it.” “Wow, this brand is expensive! Are you sure you want to give it to me?” Maya Lin was genuinely surprised. She had told me she came from a poor family and was saving up to buy Marcus a gift. Since I was handing her a ready-made one, she happily accepted it after a brief exchange of pleasantries. I smiled coldly. Paraquat is incredibly toxic. Just 0.01 grams is enough to kill a person. Marcus wouldn’t ingest it directly. But the shirt would be worn directly against his skin. The Paraquat would seep through his pores into his capillaries. In less than a month, Marcus would die a painful death!

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I wanted to buy my husband’s favorite Tang Sancai porcelain horse as an anniversary gift. But a mysterious buyer appeared mid-auction, immediately “lighting the sky lantern” (a term for an all-or-nothing, no-limits bid) and snatching the horse. As I was leaving, I received a notification that my husband’s supplementary credit card had been used at the auction house to purchase the exact Tang Sancai horse. In a panic, I immediately called the bank and froze the card. At the collection counter, a stunningly beautiful woman with a graceful figure fled amidst the mocking laughter of the crowd. Two weeks later, my husband, Liam Stone, and I went on a vacation abroad. Right after getting off the plane, I was drugged and abducted. I woke up to find myself locked inside an iron cage. The emcee on site spoke in broken English: “Today, we auction this woman! Highest bid wins!” And Liam Stone was sitting in the audience, his gaze dark, sinister, and vicious. “Chloe Vance, you love stealing other people’s thunder when they ‘light the sky lantern,’ right? Well, today, you can have your fill of stealing!” 1 I stared, horrified, at the dense crowd below the stage, my scalp tingling. Everyone held a copy of my body scan report, examining it and whispering judgmentally: “Look at this woman, she must be very well-maintained. Every part of her body is healthy. She’d be a prize, whether you bid on the whole package to take home and enjoy, or bid on individual parts for a sick relative.” “I’m shocked that Mr. Stone from the States would be so generous, putting such a fine woman up for auction. We can’t miss this rare opportunity.” “I heard the lady on stage is actually Mr. Stone’s wife. Once a man finds a new favorite, he doesn’t need the old one anymore.” Following their meaningful glances, I looked at Liam Stone, who was seated in the middle of the crowd. A chilling dread washed over me. My body, tied to the iron cage with ropes, continuously rattled against the bars, making a violent noise. I dug my fingernails so hard into my palms that blood trickled between my fingers. Just yesterday, we were sweetly planning our trip, full of affection. But now, Liam’s “casual friend” who supposedly helped him bid on the porcelain horse, Summer Lin, was nestled sweetly and gently in his arms, smiling victoriously. “Liam, why are you doing this to me!” My voice was hoarse with breakdown, and I was already sobbing uncontrollably. Liam leaned back lazily in his chair, a mischievous, shallow smile playing on his lips. He spoke nonchalantly: “My wife is so graceful and generous, of course, I can’t keep her all to myself. Good things are meant to be shared, right?” The crowd erupted in cheers of impatience, urging the emcee to start the auction immediately. Big shots from different countries gathered together, holding up their black number paddles, frantically waving them and shouting whether they wanted my heart or my kidneys. Liam turned and kissed Summer, then stood up and walked onto the auction stage. He delivered a hard kick to the iron cage holding me. The impact split my lip instantly, and a metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. “Chloe Vance, as the organizer of this auction, I’ll give you special treatment. I’m granting you the right to bid on yourself—to ‘light the sky lantern’ for yourself—so you can get your fill of stealing other people’s thunder, and finally experience the embarrassment our Summer felt at the last auction!” His exquisite, refined eyes were full of mocking malice. The barely hidden murderous intent meant he had no intention of letting me leave the auction hall alive. “If you’ve got the guts, why don’t you ‘light the sky lantern’ then?” I shouted. Everyone burst into laughter, standing up to look at us. “What’s she going to light the sky lantern with? Didn’t Mr. Stone register all the joint funds under his name when he entered the venue? Unless Mr. Stone is willing to chip in, Mrs. Stone is completely broke.” Liam feigned a look of sudden realization: “Oh, my bad! I forgot that the auction rules only allow one person per joint account. That’s truly a shame, darling. I have to buy a necklace for Summer today, so I’m afraid I can’t help you out.” I widened my eyes in disbelief, unable to grasp that these words were coming from the mouth of the man I had loved for eight years. “You tricked me into going abroad, drugged me, kidnapped me, and specifically organized this black-market auction to sell me off here?” “Why, Liam? Just because I froze the supplementary card when Summer tried to ‘light the sky lantern’?” Liam looked down at me coldly, savoring my pain. “Of course! Do you know how helpless Summer was that day? She endured all that mockery. You can do the same, can’t you?” With that, he gave me no more chance to question him and turned to step off the stage. He coldly tossed back one last sentence: “Put the restraints on Miss Vance! Let her sit among the bidders and watch herself sink step-by-step into the abyss, helpless—that’s the best revenge!” Summer Lin, standing below the stage, winked at me with a malicious smile: “Miss Vance, I won’t compete with you today, okay!” ________________________________________ 2 The entire auction hall was filled with cruel cheers. Someone whistled and shouted: “Mr. Stone, are you really heartless enough to let someone abuse your beautiful wife to death? Ha ha ha…” Liam raised an eyebrow, his expression indifferent. “If my wife doesn’t want that, she can ‘light the sky lantern’ herself. If she can’t, that’s her choice. I’m a very democratic man.” The crowd nodded in agreement, their voices playful: “That’s true. I heard the little sister-in-law ‘lit the sky lantern’ herself when bidding on that Tang Sancai horse, but Mrs. Stone shut her down. She clearly has resources. We should witness it tonight.” Amidst the noise, the auction bell rang. I was pulled out of the cage, the iron chain around my neck dragging me like a dog. I was tied to a chair in the front row, directly facing the large screen. My body report and photos scrolled across the screen. The feeling of utter humiliation instantly consumed me. My hands trembled as I clenched them together, my mind racing. Liam had registered all of our joint assets under his name. According to the black market auction rules, one account could not be used by two people simultaneously. Right now, I couldn’t even produce a hundred dollars, let alone ‘light the sky lantern.’ Liam had precisely calculated this. He knew all my financial details. If even one part of my body was successfully bid on, it would be enough to utterly destroy my life. I was a lamb to the slaughter, tied to the gallows with no retreat. We had been married for eight years. I stood by him as he went from a nobody to the CEO of Stone Industries. I never once complained about the hardships along the way. After he achieved success, I willingly stepped back to be his supportive wife. Now, Liam was personally sending me to hell just to appease a mistress. The discussions around me never stopped, with all sorts of vulgar remarks flying back and forth: “Mr. Stone is such a player; the women he trains in bed must be spicy. I’m going to bid on Mrs. Stone whole in a bit and get a good taste.” “No way, I’ve been eyeing Mrs. Stone’s perfect feet for a long time. I’ll chop them off and turn them into art.” I bit down hard on my lower lip, using every ounce of effort to keep myself steady in the chair. Finally, the auctioneer walked onto the stage, took the microphone from the emcee, and announced that the auction was about to begin. I abruptly stood up, making the iron chains rattle loudly: “Wait a minute! I need to go wash my face!” Liam slowly turned to look at me, his eyes full of obscure mockery: “Chloe, don’t bother trying to escape. Security here is tight; not even a fly can get out. Save your energy.” I endured the physical pain and stared intensely into his dark eyes. “If not even a fly can get out, is it too much for me to wash my face and calm down? Or are you too stingy to even give me that much time?” Everyone in the room held their breath, watching us. Our eyes met, and an undercurrent of tension flowed between us—a silent battle. Several of his acquaintances frowned: “Don’t delay, Mr. Stone. We can’t wait any longer. Don’t listen to her; let’s start now.” “Exactly! She’s just wasting our time. My bathwater is ready at home; I’m just waiting to take Mrs. Stone back with me.” Finally, under everyone’s expectant gaze, Liam’s face turned cold, his eyes dark and sinister. “Shut up, all of you!” ________________________________________ 3 The host’s fury silenced everyone. The staff switched my shackles to handcuffs, and I walked with a straight back, stumbling toward the water basin outside the door. It wasn’t until the cold water hit my injured hands that the tension in my whole body instantly eased. I collapsed, exhausted, next to the water basin. The tears I had held back for so long finally streamed down my face. My phone was still in my pocket, but all the money in the account had been transferred out—the balance was $\$0.00$. If I were to be sold off tonight, I couldn’t even begin to imagine the torture that awaited me. I could be played with and then brutally dismembered and sold off, never finding peace even in death. And my mother, who was in a coma from a car accident and lying in a hospital back home, would have her medical funding cut off immediately upon my death, leaving her to die in absolute despair. At the end of my rope, I finally made a decision. Gritting my teeth, I opened the encrypted email and clicked on a long-dormant contact account. The rushing water forcefully beat against the stone basin, and the surrounding silence was terrifying. In this dilapidated, crisis-ridden venue, a giant devil seemed to be hiding, ready to rush out at any moment and tear me to shreds. I hit send on the encrypted text, and my hand dropped heavily. Five minutes later, I dragged my chained feet back to the venue. When I pushed open the door, everyone looked up with excitement. There was astonishment, mockery, and impatient mischief. Liam Stone was holding a cigarette between his fingers, the swirling smoke briefly obscuring his vague expression. He then pulled Summer Lin closer and, looking down at me, spoke word by word: “My darling, I love you, so anyone who dares to bully you will pay the price!” I walked back to my seat, not looking at him, a trail of bright red footprints staining the floor. My voice was raw and broken as I said: “Start the auction now.” The crowd buzzed. The auctioneer looked at Liam questioningly. He chuckled and nodded: “Since Chloe is so impatient herself, let’s officially begin.” The moment he finished speaking, the lights in the auction hall shifted. The first set of auction information flashed onto the large screen: my hands. From my wrists to my fingertips, every inch was captured in high-definition detail; even the pores were clearly visible. I was still ridiculously wearing my ten-carat wedding ring on my right hand. Like a Shakespearean tragedy, everyone was witnessing my utter patheticness. Sitting below the stage, I already wished I were dead. Liam took Summer and sat down in the seat next to mine. Leaning close to my ear, he whispered: “As husband and wife, my Summer is generous. If you apologize to her and agree to divorce with nothing, I’ll help you this one time.” My lips curled into a cold smile. So, he didn’t just want my life; he wanted to steal our joint assets. And then, he would proudly marry his mistress, all while acting like the victim of a failed marriage. I remained silent, answering his provocation with indifference. The bidding shouts soon started: “Mrs. Chloe Vance’s hands start at five million, with a minimum bid increase of one million.” As soon as he spoke, people raised their paddles, the price quickly escalating to twenty million. Liam’s voice continued beside me. “Think carefully, darling. It might be too late soon.” The bidders were already leaning closer, their eyes full of greed, staring at my tightly clenched fists, waiting for the final gavel. Just then, I, who had been silent all this time, slowly raised my hand. My eyes were filled with desperate resolve. I spoke firmly: “I ‘light the sky lantern!’” ________________________________________ 4 Everyone in the auction hall was stunned. “What’s going on? Where did she get the money to ‘light the sky lantern’?” “She’s still trying to put on a show at a time like this. This woman is something else.” I held my neck stiffly, my gaze never leaving the screen. Liam sneered coldly, clearly convinced I was faking it. Summer Lin whined, pressing her full chest against him and speaking in a high-pitched, affected voice: “Mrs. Stone is hilarious. Liam said he could help her, but she’s still stubbornly holding onto her pride. She really must want to jump into another man’s bed. What a tramp.” Liam pulled a contemptuous face, his voice as casual as a stranger who couldn’t care less. “She wants to put on a show, so let’s watch the show. She’ll only lose more miserably later.” “Don’t forget I set the rule: if someone ‘lights the sky lantern’ but can’t afford to pay, they have to serve guests for free for a week in the auction house’s underground club.” The auctioneer heard Liam’s words and immediately straightened up: “Miss Vance, are you sure you want to ‘light the sky lantern’? Please do not disrupt our normal procedure, or you will face the penalty.” My fingers wouldn’t stop trembling. My jaw was tightly clenched. Layers of dry, stinging pain welled up in my eyes. I forced myself to reply: “I’m sure. Light the sky lantern.” The whole room roared with laughter. They clamored for immediate on-site verification of my funds. “She has to verify her funds right now! We can’t all be fooled by her playing games!” “Mr. Stone just showed us your account balance—not a single penny! And you still have the nerve to pretend.” Liam shrugged indifferently amidst the laughter. “Chloe, why are you doing this? Since you’ve made your choice, you can’t back out now. I can’t help you anymore.” With that, he crossed his arms, settled back firmly into his chair, and mockingly waited for the auctioneer to organize the verification. The crowd began rhythmically clapping their hands. Louder and louder, the sound grew into a huge, invading wave that battered my eardrums. “Verify! Verify! Verify!” I sighed, pulled out my phone, entered the password, and handed it to the verification officer who had approached me. “Take it and check. Just remember to return it to me later.” The verification officer took the phone with bad grace, a mocking curve on her lips, and grumbled resentfully. “What a joke. We already checked your account. Why go through all this trouble? No wonder people dislike her; it serves her right that even Mr. Stone hates her.” The others pointed and discussed. “Exactly, exactly! This is so funny. If this were in bed, I’d cure all her defiance.” “Look, everyone! Her legs are shaking so much the chains are rattling. When her balance comes up zero, she better not wet her pants. I’m still waiting to bid on her legs.”

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Just because my six-year-old son, Leo, stumbled while walking through the garden and accidentally crushed a single rose, Liam Kingston flew into a rage. He ordered Leo locked in the garden and demanded he plant 999 roses to replace it. Liam didn’t notice Leo was stung by a bee, collapsing on the lawn, convulsing and struggling. I screamed and cried, knocking my head against the iron gate like a madwoman: “Liam, open your eyes and look! Leo was stung by a bee, he’s allergic to bees! Open the gate now, or he’ll go into shock and die!” Liam put his arm around his childhood sweetheart, Holly Chen, and looked down at me dismissively: “Clara, I told you before, this is a private garden I specifically made for Holly. No unauthorized person is allowed inside.” “You’ve indulged Leo time and time again. Now he gets stung a few times and can’t handle it? Stop with this ‘allergic’ nonsense—it’s all your fault for spoiling him!” Holly Chen rolled her eyes in disgust. “Look, sis, a loving mother often spoils her son. Your son has ruined so many of my flowers already. He deserves a lesson.” With that, they embraced and walked away. I could only swing the rusty iron shovel, continuously smashing the gate, but it was too late. I watched helplessly as the red, swollen rash on my son’s body spread, his struggling movements grew weaker, and finally, he went silent. I collapsed to my knees, desperately begging my son to wake up and call me ‘Mom’ one more time, but he never responded. An hour later, I finally smashed the gate open. At the same moment, Liam posted a picture of an ultrasound on social media. [One more precious life for me to protect in this world. Thanks for your hard work, @HollyChen] My heart was dead. I placed the signed divorce papers in the study and made arrangements with the funeral home. Then I liked his post and commented: [Wishing your little love child a safe journey to adulthood.] 1 The next second, Liam called. His furious voice instantly exploded in the solemn, silent funeral home: “Clara Vance, what is that comment supposed to mean!” “Holly and I are childhood sweethearts! It’s only right for me to take care of her when she accidentally gets pregnant with my child!” “And what the hell happened to the garden! You smashed the gate and took Leo—fine—but did you deliberately stomp up the lawn and leave those holes? You and your son are trying to destroy things on purpose, aren’t you?” “Don’t think I’ll let you get away with it this time! You and Leo get your butts back here and plant all 999 roses, or don’t bother coming back into my Kingston house!” I lowered my eyes. My hands were red and swollen from smashing the gate with all my might, and my heart ached sympathetically. Not far away, the mortician was carefully removing the bee stinger that had taken my son’s life: “Liam, Leo is dead. And I will never step inside your house again.” The person on the other end paused, then seemed to laugh out of anger. “Clara Vance, you’re incredible. Got addicted to fighting for attention, did you? Now you’re even cursing your son to death?” Then, a woman’s soft gasp came through the line, instantly halting all my words. Remembering the ultrasound photo I had just seen—Liam and his mistress had a new baby coming—he truly didn’t care if my son lived or died. I sighed deeply. “Liam, I signed the divorce papers and left them in the study. Sign them, and you can live happily ever after with your sweetheart.” The moment I finished speaking, two frail, stooped elderly people entered, leaning on canes. “Where’s my little Leo? How did something happen to him for no reason?” Seeing the two elders who genuinely loved my son, the tears I had been fighting back finally fell. I collapsed, sobbing, into Grandma Kingston’s arms: “Grandpa, Grandma, it’s my fault as a mother. I didn’t watch Leo properly, and he had to suffer so much when he left.” Grandma Kingston and I cried together. Grandpa Kingston forced himself to step forward to look, and two lines of clear tears finally ran down his face: “Didn’t I order all the beehives near the villa cleared? And arranged for dedicated patrols! Where did the bee come from that bit my Leo and caused his reaction!” “It must be that bastard’s private garden, isn’t it!” I managed a bitter smile. Liam wasn’t unaware of Leo’s bee allergy. He had even leveled the villa garden and poured cement on it once, just to prevent accidents. He became a different person after Holly Chen came back. Not only did he allow Holly to replant flowers and plants, but he also indulged her in keeping bees in the garden, calling it “returning to nature and coexisting.” When I tearfully confronted Liam, holding my son after he had another allergic reaction, Liam just lazily lifted an eyelid. “Oh, then I’ll have someone install a fence. Leo won’t be able to get in, so there’s no danger.” An iron fence might keep people out, but how could it stop flying bees? In an instant, the image of my son struggling in pain before he died reappeared in my mind. I couldn’t smash that cursed iron gate open, only watch helplessly as my son convulsed wildly on the lawn until he stopped moving. When he died, his whole body was rigid, covered in red rashes and marks, and his large eyes were filled with lingering attachment to the world. Unwilling to accept it, I carried him to the mortician, begging him to conceal those awful scars. As if doing so could bring back the sweet boy who called me ‘Mom’ in his baby voice. As if he had never experienced such great pain. As if, the next second, he would wake up. But it was just wishful thinking. The mortician covered the last patch of red rash, put down his brush, and walked towards me with a look of sorrow: “Ma’am, the young master is ready. He can be on his way now.” It was then I realized the phone call hadn’t ended. Liam’s mocking voice rang out: “Clara Vance, are you addicted to playing the tragedy queen? Fine, rope my grandparents into your act, but now you’re getting people to say your son is ‘on his way?’ What, are you guys still at the funeral home?” Exhausted, I didn’t want to waste another word on him. “Yes, Leo is at the funeral home. If you come now, you can see him one last time.” To my surprise, he sneered: “Clara Vance! Have some shame! He just got a bee sting! If he was really allergic, a trip to the hospital would fix it. You think I’m that easy to fool?” “Seriously, like mother, like son. No wonder Leo has been so whiny and prone to lying lately!” Unable to listen any longer, Grandpa Kingston snatched the phone and burst into curses. “You bastard! Are you still sticking with that fox right now? Get your butt over here immediately!” As soon as he finished, he clutched his chest and violently threw the phone. Grandma rushed over to help him, but Grandpa pushed her away, crying helplessly: “The family is cursed! Your grandson says even if Leo really died, it doesn’t matter, because that fox has another one in her belly, and that one will surely be better behaved! You monster!” Grandma froze too, her cloudy eyes brimming with tears. She turned and pleaded with me sorrowfully: “Clara, please don’t listen to his nonsense. We only recognize the child you bore.” “Don’t worry. Your grandpa and I are going home right now to kick that fox out and make that bastard grovel and apologize to you!” A lump rose in my throat, and I shook my head. “Grandma, it’s alright. Since Liam’s heart has already strayed, I’ll just take Leo and leave.” “I’m tired after all these years. It’s time for me to go.” The two elders stared at me blankly, but in the end, said nothing more. The three of us stood mournfully before the crematorium oven all night until the staff handed me a small jar of ashes. I settled the urn and drove straight home. My son’s belongings were still in that cold house. I wouldn’t leave them for Liam, who didn’t love him at all. But as soon as I opened the door, a festive party atmosphere hit me: “Wow, Holly is amazing! She’s carrying a little princess for our big brother, Liam!” 2 The whole house was covered in pink. Liam and Holly’s friends were holding up wine glasses. One person disdainfully waved the divorce papers I had left. “Liam, your pathetic wife is quite gutsy, divorcing you and saying she’s leaving with nothing.” “She’s clearly crazy. A poor woman taking a child and leaving? Doesn’t she know her place?” “Honestly, if she wants to go, let her. What kind of brat did she give birth to? He reeks of poverty. It’s embarrassing for our Liam to take him anywhere!” “Exactly! Let’s encourage Holly to have a second one—a real Kingston young master!” The group burst into laughter. I pushed the door open and walked in, and everyone immediately went silent. Liam glanced at me casually, tightening his embrace around Holly Chen, acting as if he didn’t see me: “No need for ‘young master, young master.’ My daughter can be brilliant and talented too.” “Holly and I started training her even before she was born.” With that, he placed a small model airplane on Holly Chen’s slightly bulging belly. I instantly recognized it as the toy my son loved most—the first model Liam had helped him assemble. Even though I bought him many more expensive and better-looking toys afterward, Leo stubbornly insisted on sleeping with this small plane, simply because it smelled like his dad. Now, his dearest dad was going to give it to another woman’s child. I could no longer suppress my emotions and rushed forward, crying out: “Liam, your son’s body isn’t even cold yet! How can you do this to him!” The temperature around Liam instantly dropped. He slapped me across the face. “Clara Vance, what’s this ‘body not even cold’ nonsense? Are you addicted to acting now?” I couldn’t dodge in time. The back of my head struck the corner of the table, and warm liquid began to trickle down. And my son’s most treasured toy plane was cruelly thrown to the floor and smashed under Liam’s foot: “It’s just a toy! What’s wrong with giving it to his little sister? Is this how you teach a child?” “You didn’t even plant one rose and left a bunch of holes. Now you and your son dare to challenge me, huh?” Seeing his face, the image of my son’s painful death flashed through my mind. I wanted nothing more than to drag him to my son’s ashes and make him apologize. But my son’s comforting words, spoken that afternoon while he was holding the rose sapling, echoed in my ears: “Mom, don’t cry, don’t blame Dad. It’s Leo who should be punished. Leo can do it!” “But Dad was a little mean. He didn’t comfort me when I fell, and he scolded me. Next time, I won’t talk to him!” “Mom, let’s both ignore Dad next time, okay?” I closed my eyes, struggling to suppress the surging grief, and spoke slowly: “Yes, I don’t deserve to be a mother. And I don’t deserve to be your Kingston daughter-in-law. Sign the divorce papers, and from now on, we have no connection.” Liam looked at me, a cruel smile playing on his lips: “You want me to sign the divorce papers? Fine. You kneel over here, beg Holly Chen’s forgiveness, and apologize for spoiling your child and ruining her garden, and for interrupting today’s celebration party!” “The moment she’s satisfied, I’ll sign.” Hearing this, Holly Chen straightened her back and looked at me mockingly. The others also became interested, their eyes fixed on me. Some even started betting: “I bet a hundred bucks she won’t kneel. She really thought she could make Holly leave, and now she looks like a fool.” “She’ll probably end up sobbing and begging Liam to forgive her. That ‘dead’ son will probably come crawling back, and the mother and son will accept the punishment together.” The next moment, I pushed myself up and hit the ground with a loud thud. “I’m sorry! I was wrong!” A fragment of the toy plane plunged into my forehead, and blood streamed down. I seemed not to feel the pain, moving one knee, one step, one bow at a time, yet never reaching the end. Because every step I knelt forward, Holly Chen giggled and took one step back, leading me around the room like a dog on a leash. The surrounding voices slowly changed from spectacle to concern: “Liam, Holly, maybe that’s enough. Look how much blood she’s losing. Someone might actually get hurt.” “Yeah, look how pale her lips are. Is she actually in danger?” “She wants to leave anyway, so it works out. It’s about time you gave Holly a proper title, Liam.” I paused and looked back. The fluid flowing from my head had left a long, shocking trail of blood. I had no intention of stopping. As I prepared to knock my head again, Liam kicked me down. He flung the signed divorce papers in my face: “That’s enough! I signed it! Stop playing the victim here and fishing for sympathy! Don’t think I wouldn’t dare to divorce you!” “Take your child and get out! But you better remember, if you walk out that door today, your son won’t inherit a single cent!” “Don’t you dare try to make me acknowledge you or your son ever again!” 3 Having lost too much blood, I couldn’t stand steadily. I barely picked up the agreement and got to my feet. Liam stared hard at me. I simply flipped to the last page, confirmed the signature, and smiled: “Fine. I’m going to pack Leo’s things and leave.” With that, I turned and entered my son’s room. When the door closed, all the noise outside instantly stopped. I leaned against the door, my eyes blurring with tears. My son’s small blanket wasn’t folded, and the fairy tale book he hadn’t finished last night was still on his bedside table. It was as if, any second, he would jump out of the closet in a ghost costume to scare me. I wiped my tears, dragged the suitcase out of the closet, and began packing my son’s things. Clothes, toys, books, little crafts he made at preschool—I cried and laughed as I carefully packed them one by one, until I found a palm-sized message in a bottle. Inside were yellowed slips of paper. I opened one in a daze, and it turned out to be IOUs written between him and his father. When Leo was three and wouldn’t leave my side, he constantly threw tantrums about sleeping with me. It annoyed Liam so much that he would sneak into the room every midnight and carry me back to our bedroom: “This is ridiculous! I gave birth to an inconsiderate love rival!” “Honey, I miss you too. Can you spend more time with me?” Before he could reach the room, the small ball of awakened flesh would chase after him, hitting and cursing Liam, calling him the thief who stole his mom. Left with no choice, the father and son agreed to alternate nights. Whoever wanted an extra night had to write an IOU to the other. Liam had a lot of tricks for coaxing his son, and slowly, he racked up a huge stack of IOUs. When Leo asked him to repay them, Liam would use some crooked logic to appease him. However, after Holly Chen returned to the country, I spent more and more nights sleeping with my son. I thought he would be happy, but he became gloomier every day. “Mom, did you and Dad fight? Dad hasn’t come to see Leo for a long time.” He pulled me to the master bedroom, knocked on the door, and said he would write an IOU for Dad so Mom could sleep with Dad. Holly Chen was sprawled on the bed, her face flushed. The image of that breakdown rushed back. My heart gave a sudden, painful lurch. Not wanting to recall it, I trembling opened my son’s last note. It was written in wobbly, childish handwriting: [I want Mom and Dad to take me to Disneyland to see the fireworks!] My son had been asking for this wish since the beginning of the year, but Liam always canceled because of Holly Chen, and they never went. Now, he was gone, and he would never go. Suppressing the rising tide of regret, I booked a flight for the next afternoon and closed the suitcase. My body instinctively lay down on my son’s small bed, trying to capture his last scent. My exhausted mind involuntarily relaxed. I fell asleep, only to be awakened in the middle of the night by an abnormal shaking. I opened my eyes groggily. Right before me were Liam and Holly Chen, kissing! “Liam, didn’t we come here to see how to convert this room into a princess room? Why are you fooling around again?” I sat up abruptly. Liam glanced at me provocatively and didn’t stop what he was doing. Holly Chen looked at me with seductive eyes. “Sis, don’t be mad. We just wanted Leo to get used to his little sister’s presence early. After all, they’ll be growing up together.” “After this, can’t the five of us just live together happily?” They were openly making love on my son’s bed. My stomach lurched violently, and a wave of nausea rushed to my head. Liam saw me shaking with rage. Instead of feeling guilty, he adopted an accusatory tone: “Clara, I looked into it. Leo didn’t go to the hospital for an allergic reaction that day. Where did you hide him?” “Enough is enough. If you keep making trouble, I really won’t want you or your son anymore.” I couldn’t take it anymore. I suddenly vomited all over both of them. Liam froze for a moment. Holly Chen’s face changed drastically. She suddenly clutched her stomach, looking distressed: “Liam, my tummy hurts so much… so much…” Liam anxiously picked up Holly Chen, knocking me over in the process. “If anything happens to the baby in Holly’s belly, I’ll make your son pay for it!” I was left alone in the room again. I quietly got up, pulled the suitcase, and staggered out. It was still dark outside, the streets were empty, and the cool night wind whistled into my collar, making me shiver. Dizzy from blood loss, I didn’t stop walking. Finally, at dawn, I reached the cemetery. The plot I bought for my son this morning held an empty coffin. I knelt beside it, opened the suitcase, and placed his favorite things inside one by one. I left only an empty space for the urn. I looked at the urn in my hand, feeling as if my son were in my arms: “Mommy will take you to see the world, and then we’ll come back to rest, okay?” 4 Liam took Holly Chen to the hospital for a full night of checks. Only after confirming the fetus was safe did he finally breathe a sigh of relief. He sat wearily in the waiting area outside the examination room, rubbing his temples. The vomit on his clothes had dried, but the foul odor lingered. Normally, he would have blown up and forced Clara to clean up, but at that moment, he was inexplicably afraid. He realized all of Leo’s things were packed up, and Clara’s expression had been so sorrowful. Just then, Butler Dong, who specifically cared for his grandparents, rushed over. Liam irritably waved him off. “Dong, if you’re also here to lie to me that my son is dead, just shut up. I won’t believe it.” Butler Dong’s eyes showed a look of complex distress, but he bowed respectfully. “Young Master, this time it’s not Young Master Leo. Your grandparents have been hospitalized with a heart attack. If you have time, please visit them.” Liam rushed to the intensive care unit. As soon as he pushed open the door, a glass cup instantly smashed against the doorframe, shattering. Grandpa, wearing an oxygen mask, looked like he wanted to tear Liam apart: “You monster who killed his own son! You have the audacity to come see me? Get out!” The monitoring equipment emitted a piercing alarm. Butler Dong quickly stepped forward to calm Grandpa. “Mister, the dead cannot be brought back. Please take care of yourself.” Liam was still confused, and the pent-up frustration of the past two days finally burst out: “Are you all sick? I already checked the hospital records! My son was never here, and there are no medical records for him!” “He was only in the garden for a few hours! How could he possibly be dead? Did he really die from a bee sting?” Grandpa’s suddenly widened eyes were filled with disappointment. He then fell back onto the hospital bed, weakly ordering the butler: “Dong, you tell him.” The butler sighed. “Young Master Leo was indeed stung to death by a bee. But when the private doctor and the ambulance arrived, it was too late. So the Madam took him directly to the funeral home.” As if afraid Liam still wouldn’t believe it, the butler turned on the TV, playing the surveillance footage from two days ago. Liam finally saw Leo struggle to dig the first hole, then get stung on the calf by a bee. Strangely, Leo, who usually feared bees the most, didn’t cry or fuss this time. After glancing at the wound with teary eyes, he gritted his teeth and continued digging the hole, planting the rose sapling crookedly, trying to bury the stinging pain. Liam remembered that was why he hadn’t believed Clara’s story—Leo didn’t cry or fuss. He thought Clara was just making a scene because she felt sorry for the child. Grandpa spoke heartbreakingly, “Leo didn’t even dare to cry to make you happy! Look at what kind of father you are!” Liam stumbled, leaning against the wall, his eyes glued to the screen. He saw the red rash on his son’s body spread wider, the allergic reaction worsening, until Leo suddenly collapsed and convulsed. He knew what that was—anaphylactic shock. The first time his son had a reaction, he was so scared he prayed all night in the ancestral hall for his son’s safety. And this time… Liam had been deaf to it all, embracing the aunt his son hated most, buying princess dresses for another unborn child. Only Clara was left, frantically smashing the iron gate. The surveillance video ended with Clara agonizingly holding her son’s body and weeping. Liam’s heart was also instantly clenched, tears streaming down his face helplessly: “What have I done? What have I done!” Grandpa was trembling with anger. “You monster! Even if Leo did something wrong, couldn’t you have just punished him simply? Why force him to plant 999 roses?” “He’s only six! Could he even plant them all?” “You destroyed your own family for a fox! Was it worth it?” Another glass cup was thrown, hitting Liam right on the nose. The pain forced him to bend over, but he still tried to defend Holly Chen: “Grandpa, Holly Chen did nothing wrong! And she’s pregnant with my child now! If you have to blame someone, blame me!” To his surprise, Grandpa got even angrier. “She did nothing wrong? She is the culprit who caused your son’s death!” The butler continued, “We investigated. Holly Chen kept her bees near the villa, and almost every window frame was smeared with honey.” “And Young Master Leo has already had to have the private doctor come over more than ten times in the last three months because of bee stings.” “I suspect Young Master Leo’s death was not an accident. We have already contacted the police to get involved.” Liam felt as if he had been struck by lightning, unable to believe what he was hearing. The door of the intensive care unit was suddenly pushed open. Several bodyguards dragged a fiercely struggling Holly Chen inside. Seeing Liam, she cried out as if he were her lifeline: “Liam! You have to help me! These people dragged me into the operating room without a word and poked my baby with a needle as long as my arm!” “What if something happens to the baby? I don’t want to live anymore!” Butler Dong looked down at her and sneered, “Holly Chen, we just invited you to cooperate with a paternity test to see if the child in your belly is a Kingston.” “The results? See for yourself!” A document was flung in front of Holly Chen. She panicked instantly. “I won’t look! I won’t look! It’s fake! Liam, don’t believe them! They are deliberately trying to break us up!” But Liam, who always listened to her, seemed like a different person. He bent down and picked up the report. The words were clearly printed on the paper: [Based on the results of this DNA test, there is no biological relationship between Liam Kingston and the sample.] Liam’s face turned deathly pale. Holly Chen broke free of her restraints, scrambled up to look, and saw the same line. She immediately dropped to her knees with a thud: “Liam, I swear I didn’t know this child wasn’t yours! It must have been the drink I had before I came back home!” “I’ll abort it right now, okay? Once I abort it, I’ll try again to have yours! Please, don’t leave me!” Holly Chen hugged his leg, crying hysterically, but Liam didn’t hear anything. All sorts of noises flooded his mind. After a long while, Liam finally spoke in a hoarse voice: “What about Leo? Where is he buried now?” “And Clara? Is she gone? Where did she go?”

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You think you’ve had an embarrassing day? Let me tell you how mine imploded during a lecture. I’m Ava, barely passing a class I hate. To skip it, I hired a substitute. Simple, right? Wrong. When the professor called my name, a guy stood up. The professor asked, “Ava Duffer is a man?” My substitute smoothly replied, “I’m her boyfriend, recording the lecture.” Just as I cringed, another person stood—my actual boyfriend, Jonathan Croft, the CS golden boy. Calmly, he said, “Actually, I’m her boyfriend. So who are you?” The room erupted. But they didn’t know this “real” boyfriend had told me my art dreams would leave me “rotting in the gutter” a month earlier. In the silence, I turned to Jonathan and announced, “Didn’t we break up? My new boyfriend and I have better things to do.” 1 I’d been sitting motionless in the university art studio for ten hours when my roommate called. “Ava, you have to see the campus gossip blog! You’re famous! Hahaha!” Her voice crackled with amusement. “Seriously, though, you should probably go talk to Jonathan.” My fingers, stiff and aching, fumbled with my phone. At the top of the blog was a video of the whole disaster. The professor calling my name. The substitute’s confident “Here!” The professor’s suspicion. The substitute’s brilliant, disastrous lie about being my boyfriend, painting me as some diligent student. And then, the grand finale: my actual boyfriend exposing the whole charade. The comment section was a wildfire. [Did the CS golden boy just get cheated on? LMAO] [That dude is 100% a hired sub. Epic fail.] [He thought on his feet, gotta give him that. Too bad he picked a girl whose boyfriend was literally in the same class. Ouch.] My vision swam. I pulled up the chat with the substitute. [YOU NEVER MENTIONED YOU WERE A GUY!] This was a major-specific course. The professor knew most of the students by sight, even if not by name. The plan had been simple: a girl, wearing a mask, sitting in the back. The professor would never have noticed. I saw the gender on his profile was set to ‘female’ and didn’t think twice. Big mistake. He replied instantly. [I’m so sorry! T_T It was my first time doing this, I didn’t know the protocol. (´• ω •`)] [I just panicked! I had no idea your boyfriend was there! ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ] [I explained everything to him afterwards, no misunderstanding! ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ] [Seriously, I feel awful. Let me buy you dinner to make up for it? (ಥ﹏ಥ)] I closed the chat with a sigh. This was bad. Jonathan was going to be furious about me skipping class again. We’d had a massive fight about this a month ago and hadn’t spoken since. 3 Jonathan and I grew up next door to each other. He was always ruthlessly self-disciplined, while I was a professional daydreamer. While other kids were playing outside, he’d be forcing me to do my homework, his face set in a serious frown. “This is wrong. Write it out ten times.” It was torture. In high school, he arranged for us to be desk partners, pushing me every single day. “You have to work harder, Ava. We’re going to Blackwood University together.” When he said it, a faint blush would creep up his usually cool, composed features. He always emphasized the “we together.” For those two words, I studied until my eyes burned. And we both got into Blackwood’s top-ranked Computer Science program. My parents cried with joy, declaring that Jonathan was a gift from the heavens. If it weren’t for him, they said, I would’ve gone astray and ruined my future. On the day the acceptance letters arrived, everyone was beaming. But under the blazing July sun, I felt like I was encased in ice, trembling uncontrollably. Because in the list of majors I had painstakingly submitted myself, Computer Science wasn’t even an option. And my grades were far too high to have been placed there by chance. Someone had changed my application. 4 From day one of university, I knew I hated coding. The rigid rules, the suffocating logic—it was all just… gray. I started skipping classes, secretly teaching myself to paint in the university’s art studio. I didn’t dare let Jonathan know. But you can’t hide from the truth forever. When he found out I was skipping his beloved CS lectures for art, his brow furrowed into a familiar, disapproving line. “That’s a waste of time,” he said, his tone as severe as my parents’ had been years ago. The huge fight last month, the one that led to our current cold war, was because I’d submitted an application to transfer my major to Fine Arts. Jonathan was furious. He said I was being reckless, irresponsible with my future. In that moment, a profound exhaustion washed over me. I didn’t have the energy to try and make him understand anymore. 5 I opened my chat with Jonathan. Our last messages were from a month ago. I hesitated, then typed. [Jules, guess what today is!] No reply. I sent another. [If you don’t guess right, you owe me a kiss.] An hour later. [Okay, fine, I know you’re just pretending not to know so you can get that kiss.] [It’s World Oceans Day! We should get dinner to celebrate!] [Where are you? I’ll come find you~] Frustration started to bubble up inside me. I was practically waving a white flag, and he was still ignoring me. I ate my dinner in the campus dining hall with one hand, my other thumb endlessly scrolling up our chat history, waiting for his name to pop up. The Wi-Fi here was spotty, and I was terrified I’d miss his reply. I stretched a single meal out for over an hour. Silence. 6 I finally caved and texted Jonathan’s roommate, who told me he was at the lab. When I got there, he was hunched over a keyboard, debugging code, his focus absolute. I waved, my voice overly bright. “Jules!” His head snapped up, his eyes meeting mine for a fraction of a second before he quickly looked away, feigning indifference. “What are you doing here?” I wrapped my arms around his, planting a quick peck on his lips. “Jules, don’t be mad anymore! I was wrong, okay?” A faint pink dusted his ears. The icy composure melted away, replaced by the soft warmth of a winter sunrise. “Hmph,” he grunted, a flicker of a smile playing on his lips. “Wrong about what?” “…Let’s go get dinner. You have dark circles under your eyes. You pulled another all-nighter coding, didn’t you? You probably forgot to eat.” I tried to change the subject. Honestly, I didn’t think I was wrong at all. His expression went blank again. “Excuse me,” a sharp voice cut in. I turned to see Millie, a girl Jonathan often teamed up with for competitions. She gave me an apologetic smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “We can’t really leave for dinner just yet. We’ve got a major competition deadline coming up, and Jonathan and I need to grind this out. Sorry, but he can’t go with you.” She added, “I ordered takeout, it’ll be here soon. You want to stay and eat with us?” There was a subtle arrogance in her tone that rubbed me the wrong way, but Jonathan had told me how important this competition was. “It’s okay, I don’t want to bother you guys.” I turned back to Jonathan. “Jules, I’ll catch you when you’re not so busy, then.” He gave a noncommittal “Mm.” Millie smiled brightly. “Alright, see you around!” The last thing I saw before the lab door clicked shut was Jonathan and Millie leaning in close together, their heads nearly touching as they debated a line of code. A sour knot formed in my stomach. 7 Jonathan seemed to be in a perpetual state of “busy.” Another month passed after that day at the lab. He never messaged me. His roommate said he was practically living in the lab now. Ever since we started university, it had been like this. Always too busy to reply, and certainly too busy to reach out first. In that month, I lost myself in my painting and didn’t contact him either. The result? We hadn’t exchanged a single word. It was hard to believe we were even in the same program. It felt like we lived in different worlds. He was busy chasing GPA points, research grants, and competition trophies. I was busy skipping class to paint. He was a campus legend, drowning in awards. I was a campus ghost, drowning in failed assignments. When did we drift so far apart? 8 I finally broke the silence and called him. While the phone was ringing, a notification popped up in my dorm’s group chat. My roommate had shared a link to an article. It was about Jonathan and Millie winning first place in their competition. The photo showed the two of them on stage, accepting the award. They looked radiant, perfectly matched. My roommate tagged me: [@Ava your boyfriend is amazing!] Before I could reply, another notification appeared. A recommended article from a news app. [Power Couple of CS Department Fast-Tracked for Grad School…] I slammed the “dislike, show less of this” button, but a wave of sadness washed over me anyway. Suddenly, the call connected. Jonathan’s tired voice came through the line. “What’s up?” My mind was still stuck on that headline. A childish sense of grievance welled up. “Jules, why haven’t you talked to me? I just saw—” “Busy,” he cut me off. “…Well, do you have time to grab dinner with me?” “Where.” “Just the dining hall. It won’t take long. Five o’clock?” “Fine.” “See you there?” “Yeah.” He hung up. 9 I waited at the entrance of the dining hall for an hour and twenty-one minutes. Jonathan finally appeared, a silhouette against the deepening twilight. “Sorry,” he said. “Something came up.” I opened my mouth to ask, Couldn’t you have sent a text? But I swallowed the words. I didn’t want to ruin the first meal we’d shared in ages. I went to get my favorite spicy noodle bowl while he got his usual rice platter from the no-line counter. He always ate that because it was fast. For a prodigy like him, even eating was a waste of time. By the time I brought my steaming bowl to the table, he was already halfway done. He glanced at my food, his brow tightening for a second, but he said nothing. The broth was scalding. I meticulously picked out the cilantro and green onions. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jonathan lift his wrist and check his watch. First time, I counted silently. It was a habit of his, one he’d had since high school—timing how long a meal was taking. When he finished his plate, he checked his watch again. I pretended not to notice his growing impatience. “Jules, guess what?” I said, trying to sound cheerful. “There’s a small art exhibition on campus, and even though I’m not an art major, one of my paintings was selected! I was so—” He glanced at his watch a third time. It was like every second he spent with me was an agonizing waste of his precious, brilliant time.

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