Author: Momo Chan

I was left paralyzed after trying to catch a baby girl thrown from a twenty-story apartment building. The baby’s family never visited me in the hospital. They never mentioned a cent of compensation. When reporters asked them about it, they cursed me out. “She’s just a busybody. Who asked her to interfere? Why doesn’t she just die?” “Compensation? I won’t pay a dime! It would have been better if she got crushed to death. What’s the point of hanging on like a vegetable?” I didn’t have enough money for treatment. I lay in a hospital bed, unable to move, rotting in my own filth. In my final moments, I swore I would never be a “good person” again in my next life. When I opened my eyes, I was back on that day. 1 “Look! What is that? Is that a baby?” “Oh my god, it is. That woman is holding a baby over the balcony. What is she doing? That’s so dangerous!” The feeling of rot and numbness was gone. My body felt incredibly light. I wiggled my fingers. A movement that used to be impossible was now effortless. I covered my face, trembling with excitement. I was reborn. I wasn’t the invalid paralyzed in bed, unable to even use the toilet. The noise around me grew louder. A crowd was gathering at the base of the high-rise. I looked up. On the twentieth floor, a woman stood on the balcony, holding a bundle. It was too far to see clearly, but the silhouette was unmistakable. She was extending the baby out, past the safety railing. If she let go, that child would plummet twenty stories. The crowd below was buzzing, necks craned upwards. “What is she doing? Postpartum depression?” “Call the police! I’ve seen this before. Postpartum psychosis is real. She might jump with the baby!” Jump? My eyelid twitched. Goosebumps erupted all over my skin. That woman didn’t jump. But she did throw the baby. In my past life, I tried to catch that baby. The impact shattered my spine, leaving me with high-level paraplegia. Basically a vegetable. I was an orphan. My adoptive father died before I started college. I worked part-time jobs to put myself through school. Just as I graduated, before I could even start my life, I ended up paralyzed in a hospital bed. At first, the hospital suggested I seek compensation from the baby’s family. The incident was witnessed by many and made the news. But the family refused to pay. They went on TV and screamed at the reporters. “She’s just a busybody. Who asked her to interfere? Why doesn’t she just die?” “Compensation? I won’t pay a dime! It would have been better if she got crushed to death. What’s the point of hanging on like a vegetable?” During my entire hospital stay, no one from that family visited. Not even a thank you. I had no money. Treatment was expensive. I couldn’t even afford a caregiver. I lay there, fully aware of my misery. Every second, I wished for death. But dying is a slow process. My body rotted from bedsores and neglect. My muscles atrophied. But I just wouldn’t die. Every day, I lay there filled with resentment. Resenting why I had to be the hero. Why, out of all the people watching, I was the only idiot who ran forward. I resented the baby’s family for their cold-blooded cruelty. I resented that my life ended before it began. When death finally came, it was a release. 2 I snapped back to reality. I was standing near the building, surrounded by the crowd. I pulled my hat down low, intending to walk away quickly. “Where is the fire department?” “Ah! She moved! What is she doing?!” “Oh my god! She threw the baby!” “The baby is falling! Help!” People were screaming, but no one moved a muscle. Everyone knew. Twenty stories. Even a small object would kill you from that height. Let alone a ten-pound baby. Catching it meant risking your own life. Society isn’t totally heartless yet, but few are willing to trade their life for a stranger’s. Suddenly, someone shoved my shoulder hard. “Miss! Go help! You’re the closest!” I just wanted to leave this cursed place. But I lived in this complex. I had just walked out the door. I was the closest. The crowd was packed tight. Before I could move, someone called me out. I ignored him, looking for a way out. “Hey! You, girl! Someone is jumping upstairs! Go help!” His loud voice drew everyone’s attention to me. Now I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to. Seeing no reaction from me, the man continued, “Miss, you’re right there! Do something!” In my past life, being closest was why I reacted first. Why I ran to catch her. I looked at the people around me. Everyone shouting “save the baby,” but no one taking a step. Just watching the show. They blocked my path. I couldn’t get out. Just then, the crowd shrieked. “AHHH!! The baby fell!” “Help! Someone help!” “Oh god!” In that split second, only one thought crossed my mind. Reborn, facing the same moment. Do I save her? 3 The baby plummeted straight down. Everyone saw the woman throw her. Some said she was crazy. Some said postpartum depression. But all eyes were on the falling bundle. To save or not to save? I looked up. I could hear the baby crying. I didn’t have time to think. I ripped off my jacket. Thank god it was winter. My coat was thick. People were screaming. I roared, “Shut up! Come help!” I grabbed two corners of the coat. A few people instinctively grabbed the other corners, forming a small, flimsy safety net. It seemed useless. But seeing my action, others started stripping off their coats, piling them onto mine. In seconds, the “cushion” grew thicker. The baby fell fast. In a blink, she passed the tenth floor. More people threw their jackets into the pile. Ninth floor. Eighth floor. … When she passed the third floor, her cries were piercing. Hoarse, terrified cries. I heard them in my last life too. The pile of coats might not work, but it was better than nothing. No one wanted to catch her with their arms. This was the only way to assuage the guilt. Second floor. Almost there. The baby was coughing from the wind rushing into her lungs. First floor. I saw her purple face. THUD. A heavy, dull impact. The baby hit. 4 She landed on the mound of clothes. A muffled grunt. The crowd held its breath. Silence. “Is… is she okay?” “Did she make it?” Someone bold checked for breathing. “She’s breathing!” Relief washed over the crowd. Falling twenty stories… no one could guarantee survival. But alive was a miracle. Knowing they contributed a coat made people feel like heroes. The baby’s eyes were shut tight. The impact, though cushioned, must have shattered something inside. She couldn’t even cry. She passed out immediately. Sirens wailed. Ambulance and police arrived. The paramedics loaded the baby. It was a police matter now. I let out a breath, ready to leave. Suddenly, a disheveled woman burst out of the building entrance. “Where is she? Is she dead? Did she die?” She looked deranged. It was the mother. From the balcony, she had seen the pile of clothes below. She saw the ambulance taking the baby away alive. She went berserk, stomping on the coats. “Why?! Why didn’t she die?! Who put these clothes here? Who?!” She screamed, stomping frantically. She pointed a shaking finger at a bystander. “Was it you? Was it your idea?” The person shook their head in terror. She pointed at another. “You?” “No! It was that girl over there! She started it! You should thank her, otherwise your baby would be…” Before he finished, the woman lunged at me like a demon. Her long nails aimed straight for my eyes. “You busybody bitch!” I dodged, but my body was still getting used to moving again. I was a split second too slow. Her nails raked across my cheek, leaving a burning trail of blood. The police roared, tackling the crazy woman. Moments later, a man and an old woman came out of the building. The husband and mother-in-law. “You crazy woman! How dare you act up in front of the police?” the man shouted. Seeing them, the woman went silent, trembling instinctively.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386778”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

A new noodle shop opened downstairs in my apartment complex. Not only was the food delicious and affordable, but the owner had a drop-dead gorgeous son who made every meal taste better. Naturally, I became a regular from day one. I ate there every day for three months straight. Then my cousin opened a new restaurant right across the street and insisted I come to support him. I had just sat down when someone walked out of the noodle shop opposite. He stared at me with dark, brooding eyes: “What, does his place let customers touch their abs too?” 1 My cousin has had a girlfriend for years. Just as they were preparing to get engaged, they had a fight, and she refused to talk to him. Coincidentally, she lives in the same apartment complex as me. To win her back, he thought long and hard and decided to open a noodle shop downstairs to create more “accidental encounters.” I figured it was just some weird couple’s game. And since it was the grand opening, as his cousin, I had to show my support. What I didn’t expect was— His shop was directly across the street from my regular spot. So when I walked into my cousin’s place, I felt inexplicably guilty. I mean, I hadn’t missed a single meal at the other place for three months. The owner even gave me free side dishes and perks. We had a bond. Eating somewhere else felt like cheating. But I brushed it off. I walked into my cousin’s shop, triggered the automated “Welcome!” greeting, and saw my cousin rushing out of the kitchen, soaked to the bone. It was hot out, and he was only wearing a thin white T-shirt. Wet, the shirt clung to his skin, becoming translucent and revealing the outline of his abs. Seeing me, he immediately waved me over. “A pipe burst in the back, soaked me. The plumber just fixed it. Since you’re here, I’ll make you a bowl, then I’m heading to your place to change.” He disappeared back into the kitchen without waiting for a reply. We grew up together, so he knows my tastes perfectly. No need to order; he knows what I want. I sat at the table waiting, chin in hand, habitually looking across the street. Wonder if he’s there today. Suddenly, a shadow fell over me, and a tall figure walked into the shop. “Chase? What are you doing here?” seeing him, guilt spiked in my chest. Getting caught eating elsewhere after months of loyalty was awkward. His expression was calm, his dark eyes fixed on me. “My dad said you were late today. He was worried something happened, so he sent me to wait for you.” He paused, frowning slightly as if recalling something unpleasant. “Then I saw you sneaking around like a thief, darting into this new place without even looking back at me.” He scanned my cousin’s shop with disdain. “When this place was being renovated, my dad talked to the owner. Heard he’s a fresh grad, athletic build.” I nodded. My cousin was a fresh grad and a sports major, so yeah, good build. But… isn’t his focus a bit off? Is his lukewarm attitude towards me because… he doesn’t like women? Despair washed over me. But before I could speak, Chase’s cold demeanor vanished. He looked at me with haunting eyes. “What, does his place let customers touch their abs too?” 2 Chase. The son of the noodle shop owner next door. Incredibly handsome. But cold. Even after knowing him for three months, I’d barely seen him smile. And he barely spoke. Most of the time, I’d eat my noodles while throwing cheesy pick-up lines at him. He usually stayed silent. Occasionally, he’d sit opposite me and ask how to make me shut up because I was too noisy. In this regard, my cousin and I are alike. We have the “simp” gene. So I grinned and said, “Tell me your name first.” Initially, I just wanted his name. Then, his height, weight, hobbies, and most importantly, relationship status. Finding out he was single made me ecstatic. I unleashed a basket of pick-up lines. He still ignored me, which was frustrating. I almost gave up. As for the abs incident… Total accident. One day, I was eating lunch at his place when a flasher walked in wearing only boxers. He came straight for me. Before I could react, he grabbed my hand and tried to put it on his belly. A huge, beer-gut belly. Sweaty and gross. He leered, pressing my hand down. “Never felt a real man? Let me show you…” Then, Chase punched him. I got in a couple of kicks too. The owner called the cops, handed over the pervert, and Chase took me to wash my hands. I scrubbed my hands with soap, disgusted. “So gross. Do I need to cut this hand off?” Tears were welling up. Chase, who had been silent, suddenly grabbed my wrist. He lifted his shirt and pressed my hand onto his abs. “Still feel gross?” he asked. I shook my head frantically. How to describe it? Hard yet soft. Bouncy. Powerful. In that moment, I forgot the trauma and tremblingly extended my left hand. Holding back drool, I looked at Chase with hope. “He touched this hand too.” Chase told me to leave before he hit me. I offered my cheek: “Just hit me gently.” His look of horror deepened. I kept going back. Maybe out of guilt, the owner gave me extra portions and made Chase sit with me for protection. Eating noodles while admiring eye candy was great. I gained three pounds in a week. I asked if my hand was fully purified yet, requesting another touch. Chase smiled without humor: “Sure, help yourself.” How could I? Hehe… I put my hand on his abs and squeezed. He frowned, looking away. But he didn’t push me away. It became a tacit agreement. I tested boundaries, and he occasionally allowed it. Usually twice a week. Just a little treat. So hearing Chase’s question gave me an idea. I know my cousin’s girlfriend. Cute, lively. And like me, she appreciates male beauty. But since she has a boyfriend, she only looks. So if my cousin wants to win her back… Seduction is the key, right? But my cousin is simple. Good, kind, but dense. He probably never thought of using his body to win her over. As his cousin, I have to teach him. Seeing my silence, Chase frowned. “Hard to answer?” I shook my head frantically. “No, no, I’m not that kind of person…” Before I could finish, my cousin walked out with a steaming bowl of noodles. His shirt was soaked, and the kitchen was hot. So he took it off. He was shirtless in just shorts. You know how it is. World’s unfair. Fat guy shirtless? Put a shirt on! Hot guy with an eight-pack? Thank you, universe, for the meal and the show! But I didn’t think that. He’s my cousin. He’s taken. He needs to have morals. So I said, “Put a shirt on! Don’t let people see.” He put the bowl down, wiped sweat from his forehead, and grinned like an idiot. “It’s fine, I won’t show anyone else.” He pointed to a red spot on his abs where oil had splashed him. “I do need a shirt, though. Oil burns hurt.” I handed him a tissue. Then I heard a ghostly voice from behind: “You really care about him, huh?” I nodded without thinking. Of course. We grew up together. I’m a good cousin. “By the way, Chase…” I turned to introduce my cousin. But Chase was already walking away, face cold as ice. I didn’t think much of it. He was always cold to me at his shop, walking away when I talked too much. Watching him leave, my cousin looked thoughtful. “Sis, don’t tell me that’s the high-and-mighty god you’ve been simping for for three months?” I cupped my chin, starry-eyed. “You don’t get it. He’s top tier.” Face: top tier. Abs: top tier. I wonder if… Other parts are top tier too. I’m so curious. 3 I finished eating and planned to head home. My cousin’s shop didn’t have a shower. Going home and back would take two hours, so he asked to shower at my place. “I’m looking for an apartment in this complex too.” He blushed. “Thinking about living in the same complex as Babe makes me shy.” I rolled my eyes. They’ve been dating for years, met the parents, planned to marry. She suggested living together. He refused because he was “shy.” She was embarrassed and never brought it up again. Hence the rocky road to reconciliation. Because he avoids the right choices like the plague. I left the shop. My cousin had to do dishes and close up, so he’d be ten minutes behind. As soon as I stepped out, I saw Chase standing in front of his shop. He walked straight to me. “You usually take an hour to eat. Today took two.” “Had a good chat?” I nodded. “Yeah, pretty good. Didn’t notice the time.” My cousin had been spilling family tea. I love gossip almost as much as I love hot guys. My aunt and uncle are professional gossips, so my cousin knows everything. He told me stories while I ate. The tea was piping hot, so dinner lasted two hours. Seeing me nod, Chase pursed his lips, looking unhappy. Standard expression. “So you’re going back tonight?” I nodded again. I hadn’t finished hearing the gossip. My cousin left a cliffhanger to ensure I’d return. Chase’s face got colder. I assumed he was worried about losing a customer. “Don’t worry! Uncle’s noodles are delicious and cheap. Still my top choice. Going across the street is just for something fresh…” “Fresh?” Chase interrupted, a weird smile on his face. “The noodles? Or the person?” I didn’t get it. Before I could ask, he said, “Are his abs nice to touch?” “They’re okay.” We fought a lot as kids. I scratched him a few times. Felt decent. But I remembered I was chasing Chase. “Don’t worry! His abs aren’t as good as yours!” Chase smirked. “Thanks for the comparison.” “Of course!” I patted my chest, glanced at my apartment building, and tested the waters. “Business is slow today, your dad can handle it. Want to come to my place and watch a movie? I found a great horror flick.” I love horror movies. Friends scream watching them with me. If I watch with Chase, he’ll get scared and jump into my arms. Then… hehehe. “Wipe your drool.” Chase interrupted my fantasy. I blinked at him. “Really not coming? It’s really good.” “No.” He turned and walked back into his shop without hesitation. Meanwhile, my idiot cousin had closed up and was running toward me. “Horror movie? Let’s go! I’ll keep you company. Just gotta shower first…” Chase stopped dead in his tracks. 4 I didn’t notice. I nodded at my cousin. “Sure. I have snacks and beer.” Chase spun around and marched back. Lips tight, face cold. “You’re watching a horror movie with him? And drinking?” My little habit. Horror movies need beer. It’s cozy. “Yeah. Problem?” I felt the temperature drop around Chase. “Whatever,” he said, and walked away fast. I wanted to chase him, but didn’t want to be clingy. Internet advice: Push and pull. So I took my cousin upstairs. He went to shower in the guest bath. I prepped snacks and beer and picked a movie. Doorbell rang. I opened it to see Chase holding a takeout container. “My dad’s new recipe. Said you’re a loyal customer, have to try it first.” He looked reluctant. “I didn’t want to come. He made me.” My Uncle Jing is great. Always giving me free food. I took the noodles happily. “Want to watch the movie?” Expected rejection. He turned to leave, then looked back. “I hear water running.” “Justin’s showering.” I pointed to the bathroom. Chase frowned deeply. “Lena, are you sure about this?” About what? I was confused. Chase closed his eyes, took a breath, and said slowly, “You’re really watching a horror movie with him?” “Well, you won’t join me.” I shrugged. Just then, my cousin walked out. White T-shirt. Boxer shorts. Relaxed. He walked to the living room, cracked a beer, and chugged. He looked at the door. “Hi. I know you. Chase, right?” “I know you too. Justin.” “Lena, hurry up, movie’s starting.” “Since you’re busy, I’m leaving.” Chase turned and left before I could speak. What a waste. If he stayed… Horror movie. Beer. Maybe… hehehe. “Wipe the drool.” My cousin interrupted my fantasy. Annoying. I threw a slipper at his head. “Ow! Still so violent, Lena!” Call me sister! “You live alone. How can you give your apartment number to a man? Aren’t you afraid?” I slumped on the sofa. “I wish.” I hinted so many times, he never came. I promised only movies, no touching, he didn’t believe me! Am I that untrustworthy? Ha. Maybe. My cousin looked terrified. Doorbell rang again. He scrambled to open it. “Chase? Again?” Chase stood there with another bowl of noodles. Sweating a little. “My dad…” “Another new recipe?” I finished his sentence. He nodded, handed me the noodles. Sweat dripped down his neck. “But I can’t eat two bowls.” My cousin grabbed it. “It’s fine, I’ll eat what you can’t. I don’t mind.” I felt a chill. Chase looked at me, then left without a word. We opened the noodles. Tasted the same, just one spicy, one mild. Doorbell rang again. We both went to the door. Chase. Third bowl. “This is my dad…” “Third new recipe?” Chase nodded. He handed it over. He was sweating profusely now. “Look, we can’t eat three bowls. Please, help us eat one and watch the movie?” I expected rejection. He thought for a second, then walked in. “Fine. I don’t want my dad’s hard work wasted.” He agreed! Suddenly, Justin looked very superfluous.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386777”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I lay in a hospital bed covered in blood after a car accident. My father muttered, “Money loser, we’re broke…” Then he picked up his phone, excitedly praising my brother: “Great job, son! First place in the class gaming tournament? Dad’s coming home to celebrate!” When he left me alone in the hospital, I wasn’t surprised. I even laughed at myself for the flicker of hope I felt when I first saw him, thinking he might actually be worried about me. Under the angry yet sympathetic gazes of the medical staff, I didn’t feel helpless or sad. I was just thinking about how to get the doctor to give me more anesthesia for the surgery. Because it hurt so much. Just then, an elegant couple walked into the ward, led by the hospital director. They said I was their daughter, switched at birth. Compared to their excitement and joy, I seemed rather calm. I only asked one question. “Will you pay for my surgery?” “Will you pay for my college tuition?” After getting affirmative answers, I called them directly. “Mom, Dad.” It didn’t matter if they truly loved me. I didn’t ask about the girl who was switched. When Grandpa Joe was still alive, he told me that in this life, you can only rely on yourself to be invincible. So all I have to do is live well. Use them as a stepping stone to climb up. 1 The surgery went well. I was transferred to a VIP room for post-op observation and recovery. These were the most comfortable and quiet days I could remember. It was in this hospital room that I learned my biological father was William Sterling, chairman of the famous Sterling Group in this state, and my mother was Eleanor Vance, the eldest daughter of Vance Electronics. Turns out, two months ago, when I worked part-time as a greeter at a Sterling Group event, I was earning my own family’s money. What was the theme of that banquet? Oh, right, it was to celebrate the 18th birthday of the Sterling Group’s only daughter. It was so grand that financial news and entertainment news across the state were scrambling to report it. As an outdoor greeter, I wasn’t even qualified to enter the venue, shivering in the early spring wind. After Grandpa passed away, no one remembered my birthday, let alone a coming-of-age ceremony. Peeking through the cracks at the fragrant clothes, shadows, clinking glasses, and blessings inside. At that time, I thought, look at her, loved by thousands, and look at me, peeking at the princess’s happiness like a rat in the sewer. Worlds apart. That day was also my unnoticed 18th birthday. When I got home that night, I faced: “Where the hell have you been? Don’t you know to come home and cook?” “Your brother is about to take his high school entrance exams. What if he starves?” “Money loser. We should have given you away when you were born, saved us money.” Hearing this, I sneered in my heart. They wouldn’t have been willing to give me away. When I was born, the area where we lived was being demolished for redevelopment. To get an extra apartment allocation based on headcount, they registered me. And if it weren’t for Grandpa insisting, my name on the birth certificate wouldn’t be Grace, it would have been “Asset.” But I wouldn’t argue back because that would make them angrier, and my adoptive father would hit me. I’d suffer too much. That’s the experience I’ve summed up over the years. Don’t speak, just do the work silently, and it will pass. At that time, my only hope was the SATs, to test into a college far, far away. Knock, knock. A gentle knock sounded. My biological parents walked in, followed by a tall, handsome young man in a suit. “Grace, this is your brother. We came together to pick you up.” As I guessed, this was the crown prince of the Sterling Group, Liam Sterling. I had long heard that this prince spoiled his only sister excessively, giving her the moon if she asked for stars. Of course, that sister wasn’t me. Watching him stride over, looking reserved, his gentle tone slightly stiff. “Grace, I’m your brother.” I looked up, smiled slightly, and said softly, “Brother.” When I was bullied by classmates, seeing other brothers protecting their siblings, I also longed for a brother. Liam was stunned for a moment when he heard me call him, then relaxed. “Mom, Dad, and I discussed it and felt it’s better to visit your adoptive parents’ home.” “We investigated what happened back then. It was an accident.” “They raised you after all. And about Bella… she’s still abroad…” I looked at their guilty faces, their eyes dodging mine but full of love. For the sake of this love, I tentatively said, “They treat me bad…” “Grace,” I was interrupted by Liam before I could finish. “Your adoptive family isn’t exactly poor based on my investigation. Raising you for eighteen years deserves gratitude.” Seeing the slightly disapproving looks from my parents behind him, I fell silent. So this love wasn’t just for me. It was more for the daughter they had loved for eighteen years. Judging me as ungrateful and vain based on an unfinished sentence. Fine. “Okay, let’s go now.” 2 With their surprised expressions, I got out of bed holding my bandaged left arm and left the room. Since the love isn’t exclusive, I’ll use your guilt to fill the gap. It was lunchtime when we arrived at the Zhou house. I unlocked the door and went in first. The family of three, eating fish and meat, paused when they saw my sudden intrusion, then continued eating as if nothing happened. “Just in time. Go wash the clothes in the bathroom.” “Mom, I told you she has secret money. Look, she got out of the hospital fine without us giving her a cent.” “Damn girl, always out. Who knows how you earn that money? Disgusting.” I stood there, a look of horror on my face, shrinking back in fear. Seeing me stand still, my adoptive father’s face darkened. “What are you standing there for? Didn’t you hear your mother tell you to wash clothes?” I whispered fearfully, lifting my arm slightly. “I… I just got out of the hospital. My injury hasn’t healed. I can’t hand wash. Can I use the machine?” As soon as I finished, my adoptive mother’s harsh voice followed. “Does the machine run for free? Don’t you have another hand?” “I…” Seeing I wanted to speak again, my adoptive father’s temper flared. He threw his empty bowl and walked towards me under the gloating gazes of my adoptive mother and brother, Tyler. Raising his hand to hit me. I quickly squatted down, holding my head, chanting non-stop. “I was wrong, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have talked back.” “I won’t dare again. Dad, don’t hit me, don’t hit me. I’ll wash the clothes right now, by hand.” As expected, the slap didn’t land on me. Liam, who came in a step later, grabbed my adoptive father’s arm and pushed him aside. My parents surrounded me to comfort me, eyes full of heartache and guilt. Seeing the sudden intruders, my adoptive mother quickly got up to support my adoptive father. She screeched, “Who are you people?” Seeing my parents comforting me, she realized and cursed at me. “Bitch, bringing outsiders home to bully your parents, huh?” “Raising you is worse than raising a dog. Should have thrown you in the river to drown.” Next came money loser, slut, uneducated—whatever was ugliest, my adoptive parents said it. I was confused. They didn’t know I wasn’t biological yet. Why could they insult and beat a daughter so extremely, yet spoil a son so extremely? Especially incomprehensible was my adoptive mother. She was a woman once too. Why did she become the executioner hurting her younger “self”? I thought she was bound by old-fashioned thinking and had no choice. Later, I realized she was just bad. Narrow-minded. If she suffered, her daughter must suffer too. Even double the suffering. When I was little, I got good grades and awards, longing for her love and praise, but got ignored and mocked. From childhood to adulthood, the nastiest words came from my adoptive mother first. Now I’m immune to these curses. I can ignore them and do my own thing. But my biological parents looked terrible, and my brother clenched his fists in anger. Oh well, I achieved the desired effect, exceeded expectations even. Next, I didn’t need to do anything. I just had to be scared. This feeling of having family protecting me in front was nice. I once longed for it. Now? It’s optional. It’s no longer a necessity for my life. And this love was calculated. I don’t think it will belong to me completely in the future. There’s still a Sterling family princess they raised for eighteen years. Hearing I wasn’t their biological daughter, my adoptive mother wanted to make a scene, but my adoptive father sized up my parents and quickly started negotiating terms. My brother rubbed my hair and said gently, “Go pack your things with Mom.” “Dad and I will handle this.” I nodded timidly and went to my room under Mom’s pitying gaze. 3 The renovated storage room. One side for junk, one side for my bed, an old wardrobe, and a desk. That was it. I saw Mom’s red eyes, pretended not to see, and packed. When she saw me stuffing faded jeans and jackets into the worn suitcase. She couldn’t hold it back anymore. She walked over and threw everything in my hands onto the narrow bed. Her voice choked. “Grace, no more. Leave these. Mom will buy you new ones.” I looked up in confusion. “But these aren’t worn out yet. I can still wear them.” Mom’s lips trembled, unable to speak. She hugged me, tears wetting my shoulder. My shirt was wet. When I changed, I was wearing a sports bra, and I heard sobbing behind me again. “Grace, what happened here?” Mom pointed at the burns on my back and arms. Before I could speak, the door opened. Father and Liam stood there looking at my scars. The air went silent. My adoptive father followed, squeezing in when he saw no movement. Yelling loudly, “What are you doing? Hurry up and leave, then send the money.” Then seeing me, he froze for a second, then got angry. “Damn girl, what are you looking at? Didn’t you do that yourself?” Then he reached to grab me. I flinched slightly and spoke with difficulty. “Yes, I did it myself by accident.” My brother stepped forward, pushed him out of the room, and roared, “Behave if you want the money! Is my sister someone you can shout at?” Father’s eyes were red too. “Grace has suffered.” I shook my head and didn’t speak. In the car back, I was still thinking. It went smoothly. At least with my biological parents’ help, I can completely get rid of this rotten family. My silent contemplation was mistaken for shock. “Grace, it’s our fault. We shouldn’t have brought you there.” “It’s our fault. If we found you earlier, you wouldn’t have suffered so much.” “Grace, don’t worry, Brother will get revenge for you.” “From now on, with Mom and Dad here, no one dares to bully you again.” Looking at the unconcealed guilt and love in their red eyes, it would be a lie to say I wasn’t touched at all. But only a little. Revenge? I can take it myself later. Suffering? It’s all in the past. The car stopped. Standing before the “Jade Palace No. 1” I had only heard about in gossip at banquets. For the first time, I felt the extreme gap in this world so directly. I lowered my eyes. I’m a little tempted. I am one of the heirs to this boundless wealth and power. “Sir, Madam, you’re back.” The butler led the servants out to greet us. Seeing me surrounded, he hesitated. “This is the Second Miss. Take good care of her from now on.” Father said as he led me inside. The surrounding servants bowed and said yes. As soon as I entered the hall, I looked up and saw the girl standing by the stairs. The girl I swapped lives with for eighteen years. 4 She was beautiful. Exquisitely noble, raised on money and power. Now she looked like a broken doll, eyes red and swollen. The moment she saw us enter, tears fell like pearls. Truly pitiful and lovable. Her voice trembled as she pointed at me. “Mom, Dad, are the rumors outside true? Are you abandoning me now that you brought her back?” Hearing this, Father frowned and scolded. “Bella, no manners. This is your sister’s home. Of course we bring her back.” Bella looked incredulous. “Dad, you yelled at me?” Then she turned and ran upstairs, shouting with a sob. “Fine, I’m not biological anyway! I’ll leave now! I won’t be an eyesore!” Father opened his mouth but said nothing, grunting and heading to the study. My brother looked at me apologetically. “Bella is spoiled. Grace, don’t mind her. I’ll go check on her.” Then he ran to comfort Bella. Seeing Mom looking back anxiously, I spoke sensibly. “Mom, go comfort Sister too.” Mom paused. “Grace, you’re a good child. Mom will go check, be right back.” She turned and hugged me, then went to comfort Bella too. The family that was just fussing over me instantly surrounded another girl. Leaving me standing alone in the hall. Worthy of the golden branch and jade leaf pampered for eighteen years. Deep feelings, hard to let go. I understand. I lowered my head. Does it matter? No hope, no disappointment? But my heart was uncomfortable. The butler stepped forward. “Second Miss, your room is this way. Let me show you.” “Thanks.” The mother who said she’d be “right back” didn’t show up all afternoon. I didn’t have the mind to think about this family affection for now. I couldn’t pin my future life on these relatives. So at dinner, seeing only Father at the table, I ate quietly without throwing a tantrum. After eating, I spoke. “Dad, can I get a tutor? The SATs are in a month.” “I’m afraid I won’t adapt if I go to school now. can I study at home with a tutor?” Father was stunned, then nodded. “Just tell Butler Li. He’ll arrange it.” “Good child, ask for whatever you need. If Dad isn’t here, find Butler Li.” I smiled shyly. “Thank you, Dad.” Seeing my obedience, Father sighed in relief, patted my shoulder hesitantly, and went to the study. After washing up with the maid’s help, just as I was about to lie down, there was a knock. Opening the door, it was Mom. “Grace, Bella has a bad temper. Please bear with her.” “You just arrived. Want to take a walk with Mom, get familiar?” I nodded and went out in my pajamas. Bella was still standing at the stairs, eyes still red, but I saw the smugness and provocation in her eyes clearly. I nodded and smiled at her. “Sister came out too?” Mom turned to look. “Why are you out? Go back to sleep. Your eyes are swollen like walnuts.” Bella quickly composed herself, smiled obediently, and went back to her room. The night breeze blew gently, bringing a hint of coolness. Jade Palace No. 1 lived up to its name. “Grace, Mom wants to discuss something with you.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386776”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When I was seven, my brother sold me to human traffickers to save himself. Years later, I finally made it back home, only to find my parents had “replaced” me with a new daughter. She was draped in designer clothes and jewelry. When she saw me, she covered her nose, looking at me like I was trash. “Where did this beggar come from? She stinks. Does she have diseases?” With just one sentence, my parents’ eyes changed. My brother looked at me with pure disgust. “Why did you come back to ruin our happy life? For money?” That’s when I realized: the fake daughter had become the real one, and I was just a stumbling block. In the end, my brother helped the fake daughter torture me to death while my parents watched and did nothing. When I opened my eyes again, I was five years old. This time, I chose to save myself. Evil brother? Biased parents? You can all go to hell together! 1 “This is my brother. Boys are worth more money. I promise I won’t call the police.” I shoved my brother hard towards the trafficker, then turned and ran on my little legs. The greasy middle-aged man grabbed my brother and dragged him toward a beat-up van. My brother was only seven, still just a kid. He struggled and screamed, “Sissy, save me! Save me!” His eyes were full of fear and begging. The orange soda in his hand spilled all over his clothes. Snot and tears smeared his face. The trafficker looked satisfied. He picked up my brother, threw him in the van, and drove off. The broken license plate rattled against the bumper as they sped away. “Save you? In your dreams.” I turned and ran toward the convenience store. Colorful lollipops and sticky rice cakes—sweet and delicious. I bought some to calm my nerves. I ate while walking home. My parents had just returned from work. Seeing me alone, they asked, “Where’s your brother?” I sucked on my lollipop and said in a sweet, childish voice, “Didn’t brother come home first? Mommy, Daddy, do you want some rice cake?” My parents immediately started searching the neighborhood. They checked with the neighbors we knew, but found no trace of him. Now they panicked and called the police. In an era without surveillance cameras everywhere, finding a trafficker was like finding a needle in a haystack. Even the police found it strange: “Your neighborhood has the best security in the area. How could there be traffickers? Security didn’t see anyone suspicious enter or leave. Have you offended anyone recently? Could this be revenge?” Or maybe they just flashed their wealth too much and got targeted. Mom sat on the floor, devastated. Dad cried his heart out. I sat on a chair, swinging my little legs, watching them with wide, unblinking eyes. Look at them, so heartbroken. So why, in my past life, did they watch me die with such indifference? Right. My brother’s life matters. My life doesn’t. Fine. Then let’s all not live. 2 That night, missing person flyers plastered every street and alley. The TV news broadcasted my brother’s disappearance, offering a $50,000 reward. In an era where the average annual salary was a few hundred bucks, $50,000 was an astronomical sum. I wondered if my brother was even worth $50,000. Would the traffickers send him back for the money? But once the flyers went up, I knew there was zero chance of him returning. Compared to $50,000, life was more important to those criminals. Six months passed. New cases piled up, and my brother’s case went cold. Thinking back to my past life, my brother pushed me toward the traffickers and ran away. I was just learning from him. We are siblings, after all. The same blood runs in our veins. I started using my wits. I often came up with money-making ideas to divert my parents’ attention, helping them slowly move on from the grief of losing their son. Dad rubbed my head happily: “Our little Mona is the family’s lucky star! You’ve helped us earn so much money.” I giggled. “Daddy, on TV, lots of rich people have houses with swimming pools and garages. So fancy.” “Mommy, Daddy, let’s move to a big house too! If we live around rich people, maybe we can make even more money!” “Like they say, your circle determines your income.” My parents were shocked by my words. They immediately decided to buy a villa. They had made enough money to afford a new house anyway. But more importantly, they thought: if my brother ever came back, he might find this place. I needed to cut off that hope completely. I needed to erase the memory of my brother from their minds. “Mona is right. Nothing is more important than your social circle.” The next day, my parents went house hunting. After asking around, they spent a fortune on a luxury hilltop villa. Our neighbors were all VIPs and big shots in the city. I carried Mom’s homemade cookies and visited our neighbors one by one. I was sensible and cute, so I quickly got familiar with them. My parents got quite a few projects through these connections. Even if the profits were thin, they built good relationships. Seeing the timing was right, I spoke up: “Mom, Dad, why don’t you adopt a brother? You’re always busy with work and have no time for me. I’m lonely and want someone to play with.” Why a brother? To completely replace my biological brother’s position in my parents’ hearts. To prevent a scenario where he returns and my sexist parents give him all the credit for my hard work. I wasn’t letting that happen. Now, my status in my parents’ hearts was unshakable. They would agree to whatever I said. 3 You can’t choose your parents, no matter how useless they are. But a brother? That’s different. If I could choose, I was going to pick one to my liking. Stupid ones were out; they’d mess things up. Ugly ones were out; looking at them would be annoying. Besides being kind-hearted, the most important thing was a good personality. I didn’t want another ungrateful wolf for a brother. We visited every orphanage in the city. Finally, I found one that didn’t disappoint. The hint of ruthlessness in his eyes satisfied me. Having seen monsters in human skin in my past life, I knew his type would be hard to control later. I had to cultivate feelings from a young age. “Here~ have some candy.” I took a White Rabbit creamy candy from my pocket and placed it in his slender hand. I said in a soft, sweet voice, “If you eat this candy, you’ll be my brother.” “I have lots of toys and snacks at home. If you like them, I’ll share half with you. How about it, brother? Will you come home with me?” No little boy could refuse such a cute little girl. He was no exception. He carefully took the candy but didn’t dare touch my hand, as if afraid of dirtying it. I reached out and grabbed his hand, showing him off to my parents happily. “Daddy, Mommy, I found the brother I like.” He was clean and good-looking. My parents were satisfied. They asked a few symbolic questions and found him articulate and polite—a rare well-behaved child. So they agreed to my request. … “From now on, your name is Star.” Looking at his beautiful eyes that shone like stars, I announced loudly. He nodded in agreement. The room opposite mine was given to him. My parents had planned to save it for my biological brother, but now it was put to good use. At dinner, he sat in Dad’s lower seat—where my brother used to sit. Slowly, he truly replaced my brother’s position. My parents got used to taking him out, attending events together, and privately referring to him as “our son.” Star was extremely uncomfortable with this change at first, but with my encouragement, he became outgoing and confident. Perhaps the impression of our first meeting was too strong. He truly treated me like a sister to be protected. Every night before bed, he would tell me fairy tales and coax me to sleep. He would quietly eat the food I didn’t like from my bowl. Even if I accidentally bumped into something, he would immediately look pained, wishing he could take the hurt for me. 4 In the blink of an eye, high school arrived. Wrapped in love, Star began to shine. The moment he stepped into school, he caused quite a stir. We were in the same class. Both he and my parents hoped this would better protect me. An old acquaintance from my past life appeared—the fake daughter who tortured me to death, Crystal. She looked delicate and fragile. Every frown and smile carried a “pity me” vibe. Especially her big, watery eyes; it was hard not to feel sympathy for her at a glance. “Star, look at twelve o’clock. What do you think of that girl?” Star followed my gaze and saw Crystal in her pale yellow floral dress, long hair flowing. He didn’t understand my meaning. After thinking for a moment, he said, “I don’t know. Maybe the type most boys like?” Not just boys. My brother was obsessed with her type. For her, he helped torture his own sister. I licked my lips. “Is she your type too?” A flash of disgust crossed his eyes, but his face remained relaxed. “I don’t like her.” I chuckled. “Then what type do you like?” He looked down at me, raising an eyebrow. “Must be the arrogant, willful, unreasonable type.” Me: “…” Crystal was my classmate, but she didn’t test in. She was admitted under a special quota for underprivileged students. Every year, the elite private school accepted a few poor students to show off their “equal education” philosophy. But in reality, these students were usually bullied. After all, the classmates were either heirs or trust fund babies. In my past life, with my brother protecting her, she lorded over everyone. But now, my brother was gone. Let’s see how she acts tough now. The first class usually involved self-introductions. Everyone went up generously, without stage fright. Given their backgrounds, they weren’t afraid of such scenes. When it was Crystal’s turn, her face flushed. She twisted and turned, looking reluctant. “I… I’m too shy.” The teacher smiled. “It’s okay, it’s everyone’s first time. Just relax. Let’s give her a warm round of applause.” Applause filled the room. Star saw I didn’t react, so he didn’t clap either. After three rounds of applause, everyone was getting impatient, but Crystal still hadn’t gone up. She bit her lip tightly, face red, tears falling from her eyes. Really, you can’t polish a turd. 5 After this incident, everyone distanced themselves from Crystal. They found her off-putting. “Crying at the drop of a hat. People might think we bullied her. Disgusting.” “Exactly. She wasted so much time, I didn’t even have time to go to the bathroom during the break. Annoying.” “When we pick seats this afternoon, don’t sit with her. Bad luck will affect my aura.” Everyone chatted freely. Crystal heard every word and ran to tell the teacher. This behavior might work in a normal school, but in an elite private school, it was just humiliating herself. “Student Crystal’s situation is special. I hope everyone can be more tolerant.” “Is there anyone willing to sit with Crystal? She’s timid. If we look out for her, I believe she’ll get used to the school environment quickly.” The teacher waited, but no one raised their hand. Instead, sneers filled the room. The teacher coughed lightly. “How about this? Crystal, who do you want to sit with?” Suddenly, Crystal wasn’t shy anymore. She pointed at Star. “I want to sit with Brother Star.” … That “Brother Star” was called out so coquettishly, people would think they knew each other. The boys jeered, and the girls rolled their eyes in disdain. The teacher nodded. “Okay then. Star, you sit with Crystal and take good care of her.” Star immediately stood up and refused. “Sorry, Teacher. I’m allergic to tears.” The classroom went silent, then erupted in laughter. I curled my lips. He has a way with words. The teacher frowned, realizing it was a flat refusal. But Star was the heir to the Ran Corporation in name; no one could afford to offend him. The teacher had to find a more easygoing girl to sit with Crystal. … After class, Crystal went straight to Star. She acted pitiful. “Brother Star, I didn’t mean to make things difficult for you just now. I just felt you were very kind, like I’ve seen you somewhere before.” No wonder my stupid brother in my past life was wrapped around her finger. Her tricks came in waves. On stage, she resolutely chose to satisfy a boy’s vanity. If that didn’t work, she’d lower her posture in private and play the emotional card. An ordinary boy would have been easily taken down. Too bad she met the oil-and-salt-proof Star. “Are you a pigeon? Cooing ‘brother’ all the time?” Crystal’s eyes reddened with tears. She bit her lip lightly. “Does Brother Star misunderstand me? Or did you hear someone say bad things about me? Although I grew up poor and everyone looks down on me, I just want to make friends. I don’t want to be lonely.” Star snorted with laughter. “Then you should make friends with girls?” Crystal blurted out, “Girls are too much trouble. I prefer playing with boys. No schemes, comfortable to be around.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386775”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was dead last in my class. The System told me the only way to fix my brain and raise my grades was to bind myself to the student ranked #1 and establish “physical intimacy.” So, I became a simp for my toxic childhood friend, Julian. I followed him around like a lost puppy, ignoring his mockery and disgust, doing everything to please him. Then, I got a new desk mate. Liam was a transfer student, already scouted by Ivy Leagues. He was smart, gentle, and his smile looked like the sun. He brought me breakfast every day and patiently taught me how to solve math problems. Julian hated him. He ordered me not to speak to Liam. I obeyed. Until the next mock exam results came out. My new desk mate had dethroned Julian. Liam was the new Number One. (01) The noon heat after the mock exams was suffocating. As I walked up to the classroom to deliver porridge to Julian, I heard the boys laughing inside. Their tone was flippant, stinging my ears. “Did Stella actually go buy medicine?” “Yeah, I just casually mentioned Julian wasn’t feeling well, and she bolted.” “It’s like a hundred degrees out there.” “So what? She’s so obsessed with Julian, if he told her to bark, she’d probably get on all fours.” “Actually,” someone mused, “Stella is pretty cute. She’s got a nice face and a good temper.” Someone jeered, “You like her? Ask Julian to pass her to you.” “Julian, would you miss your little sidekick?” Silence for a few seconds. Then, Julian’s cold, clear voice cut through the air. “Get lost.” He sounded annoyed. The room went quiet, then someone asked hesitantly, “We tricked Stella into thinking you were sick so she’d run errands in this heat… you’re not mad, right?” “Why would I care?” Julian paused, his tone indifferent, dripping with his usual disdain. “If she’s stupid enough to believe whatever people tell her, how is she any different from a pig?” The room erupted in laughter. Someone was even pounding the desk. It was lively inside. I looked down at the porridge and medicine in my hands. Julian has a weak stomach. I’ve seen him pale, vomiting, and weak. That’s why when I heard he wasn’t feeling well and saw him face-down on his desk, I ran to the pharmacy. Turns out, I was being played. I stood there, dazed. (02) I couldn’t go back into the classroom, so I found a shaded spot to sit. I hadn’t eaten lunch, and my stomach was growling. The porridge steamed, smelling savory. It smelled good. I was hungry. I figured since Julian wasn’t actually sick, there was no point going in. I might as well eat it myself. [Julian is such a piece of trash! Can he even speak human?] The System’s voice exploded in my head. It sounded like it had been holding back for a long time, gritting its virtual teeth. [Stella, let’s go in there and slap him! I can’t take this anymore! So what if he’s #1? Unbind! We are not serving him anymore!] I was opening the lid of the porridge. I paused. “Huh? Can we do that? But he’s the top student.” The System: […] It reviewed the records. Julian had indeed been #1 on every single exam. So my binding target had never changed. The System deflated. [Fine. Forget it, Stella. Eat first. Eating is important.] As the warm food filled my stomach, the sadness from the scene upstairs finally hit me, slow and heavy. I was born with slow reactions. My emotional processing is weak. I learn things slowly and forget them quickly. That’s why I’ve always been dead last in the rankings. It’s not that I don’t try. I just don’t have the talent. My stupidity feels innate. Even if I do the same math problem a thousand times, I’ll forget the formula the next time I see it. Julian is different. He’s been #1 since kindergarten. The “neighbor’s kid” everyone compares you to. I used to envy him. How could someone be so smart? Then, in high school, I bound with the “Academic Genius System.” The System told me my intelligence was “locked” by some force. To “unlock” it and improve my grades, I had to be in close contact with the smartest person around. It called it “osmosis.” Before my parents died, their only wish was for me to study hard and get into a good college. I didn’t want to disappoint them, so I tried my hardest. But it was useless. With my grades, community college was a stretch. So, even though I knew Julian despised me, I followed him like I did when we were kids. I became his gofer. I agreed to every demand. I ran errands, bought water, held his umbrella. Because he was my target. Julian was cold, sharp-tongued, and arrogant. He was moody. When he was in a bad mood, he’d say things like he did today. He called me dumb, laughed at my IQ, called me a leech. But when he was in a good mood, he’d teach me how to solve a problem. Once, during a storm, I gave him my umbrella and prepared to run home in the rain. He grabbed me and pulled me under the canopy with him. The streetlights cast a warm yellow glow, softening his sharp features. He said, “Stella, are you an idiot? This umbrella is big enough for two.” His body heat traveled through his palm into my arm. We walked side by side in the rain. I didn’t know what “intimacy” the System required, so I just tried to be good to him. It hadn’t worked much before. But that moment under the umbrella, when Julian pulled me close… My heart pounded. I felt like my brain actually cleared up. When I got home, I didn’t forget what I studied. Sure enough, on the next monthly exam, I went up ten spots. Still at the bottom, but not the bottom. I might be slow, but I understand fairness. I don’t actually like Julian. He’s too mean. I approached him to use him for grades. Even though the System said my “borrowing” his intelligence didn’t hurt him, my parents taught me never to take advantage of people for free. So I tried to repay him. And since I couldn’t tell anyone about the System, I had to hide my true motive. That’s why I tolerated his cruelty. But today was different. I went to buy medicine because I was worried about him. When I ran out of the school gates, I wasn’t thinking about him as a target. I thought of him as a friend. I couldn’t watch a friend suffer. When we were kids, he used to look at me with disgust and say, “You’re as dumb as a pig. I don’t make friends with pigs.” So I stayed away. When he shared his umbrella, I thought we were friends again. But it was just me thinking that. I didn’t need the System to tell me. He said those things today because he doesn’t see me as a friend. Julian has never changed. (03) After finishing the porridge, I headed back to the classroom. Most students were napping, but Julian was sitting there, staring into space. He looked annoyed. His brows were furrowed, only relaxing slightly when he saw me. He lowered his voice. “Where did you go?” I told the truth. “I went to buy something.” His brow smoothed out more. He huffed lightly. “Where’s the porridge and medicine?” I looked at him. I really wanted to ask: You weren’t sick, so why are you asking for it? But it felt unnecessary. Compared to the System’s rage, I felt calm. Because I just didn’t care that much anymore. Julian isn’t my friend. No matter how mean he is, I won’t get angry. As long as he’s #1, I’ll keep following him to fix my grades. My reactions are slow. I don’t process hurt quickly. The sadness from earlier had already blown away with the wind. “I ate it,” I said earnestly. “I’ll buy it again next time you actually need it.” He looked stunned. His eyes darkened, and he looked like he wanted to say something, but stopped. As I walked past him, he said stiffly, “Stella, I want breakfast from Golden Lotus Dim Sum tomorrow.” Golden Lotus is a super popular spot. I’d have to wake up at 5 AM to queue. The System was grinding its teeth: [Stella, don’t debase yourself! Let him starve! Buy him breakfast? I say pour boiling water on him! We don’t need him, we’ll become geniuses on our own!] Me: “…” Me, a genius? I didn’t want to crush the System’s spirit, so I comforted it. “It’s okay. I like Golden Lotus too. I can buy some for myself.” When I got to my desk, I saw the desk next to mine was dusty. I took out a wet wipe and cleaned it. Julian turned around, saw this, and sneered. “Doing useless things every day. No wonder you fail every exam. If you spent this time on two math problems, maybe you’d get a pity point.” I didn’t understand why he was mad again. But I just gave a soft “Oh.” The System was furious: [He refuses to sit next to you, but gets mad when someone else does? He’s just jealous because the other guy got scouted by a top university!] I didn’t use to have a desk mate. Liam, the transfer student, arrived this semester. He wore a mask, but his eyes were beautiful. On his first day, he smiled and asked if he could sit next to me. He was smart and gentle. He patiently explained questions and never called me stupid. But he seemed sickly. He always wore a mask, coughed often, and had a raspy voice. I did his cleaning duty once, and he brought me breakfast for a whole week. Liam Xubai. Even his name sounded nice. Julian hated him. Every time he saw me talking to Liam, his face looked stormy. Finally, one day, he ordered me to stay away from Liam. I asked why. Julian said “no reason” and asked if I still wanted to study with him. I had to agree. I tossed and turned all night, not knowing how to tell Liam. It was the first friend I’d made in a long time. Luckily, I didn’t have to be mean. Liam stopped coming to school after that day. The teacher said Liam had secured his college spot and was busy with other things. Liam was a genius on the same level as Julian. Maybe geniuses just naturally repel each other. Julian looked at me, his tone cold but casual. “Stella, about you wanting to be my desk mate… I thought about it. As long as you don’t annoy me, it’s fine. When the rankings come out tomorrow, go tell the teacher to move you next to me.” I didn’t speak. I felt much happier sitting next to Liam than Julian. But Liam wasn’t coming back. Tomorrow, the results would come out, and Julian would still be #1. The college entrance exam (Gaokao) is coming. I have to get into college. I lowered my eyes and gave a soft “Mm.” (04) Results day. I woke up early to queue at Golden Lotus. I walked into school carrying the bags, still half-asleep. The bulletin board had just been updated. Only a few people were there. As I walked over, a voice like a clear spring stream sounded beside me. “Good morning, Stella.” I turned. A tall, bamboo-straight figure stood there. The boy looked down at me with a smile, making even the ugly school uniform look high-fashion. His face was unforgettable. But I felt like I’d never seen him before— Then I met those beautiful eyes. I hesitated. “Liam…?” “Yeah,” he said. “Long time no see.” I was happy. “Did you come back to school?” “Finished my business,” he said nonchalantly, stopping beside me. His smile was bright, like a summer breeze. “So I came back a couple of days ago to take the exam.” The crowd around the bulletin board grew loud. “Holy crap!” Someone screamed. “The #1 spot isn’t Julian anymore! Who is Liam Xubai?!” “718 points? Is he human? He beat Julian by like twenty points…” “Liam? The transfer student? I think I saw him during the test.” “Three years, and Julian finally lost the top spot!” The noise grew louder. My eyes grew wider. I looked at the handsome youth standing before me, stunned. “You’re the Class Rank One?” [OH MY GOD!!! STELLA!! We don’t have to look at Julian’s stank face anymore!!] The System screamed in my brain. [Switch binding! Switch binding! Processing now!!] I stared at Liam blankly. “If there isn’t someone else with my name, then I guess so,” Liam said casually, changing the subject. “It’s still early. Want to go to the cafeteria for breakfast?” Breakfast. I looked down instantly at the shrimp dumplings and scallop porridge in my hand. The aroma was amazing. Better than the cafeteria. “Do you eat this?” Without hesitation, I held up the plastic bag. “Here. Let’s eat together.” “Really?” He looked surprised, then his eyes curved into crescents. “Then I’ll bring you breakfast tomorrow. Deal?” Julian had never said anything like that to me. He never brought me breakfast. I didn’t know how to react, but something deep inside me cracked open, and a warm feeling sprouted from the fissure, spreading through my limbs. The System eagerly displayed a holographic screen: [Please confirm switch. Target Julian Xu changed to Target Liam Xubai.] In my heart, I whispered: “Confirm.” It was done. I looked at Liam, pursed my lips, and smiled. “Mm!” “Stella.” A familiar voice rang out. I turned. A group of boys stood behind me—the same ones who were laughing yesterday. In the center, Julian stood with a face dark as thunder. He must have been watching for a while. He stared at the breakfast I was handing to Liam. He pulled the corners of his mouth into a sneer and commanded, “Come here.” In the past, I did whatever he asked. Even when I didn’t want to. But Julian never cared about what I wanted. I shook my head. “I’m going to eat breakfast.” Julian looked incredulous. It was like he couldn’t process me rejecting him. But quickly, he reverted to form. Looking down at me, his voice cold and threatening, “Stella. I won’t say it a second time.” Last time he used this tone, he ignored me for two weeks and threw all my gifts in the trash. He knows I’ve always been afraid of him ignoring me. It always works. People were watching. I swallowed my words, turned my back to him, and looked at Liam. “Let’s go.” In that moment, the certainty in Julian’s eyes shattered. He instinctively took a step forward, like he wanted to grab me. But he stopped. He looked at me for a few seconds, then turned and walked away without a word.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386774”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Late at night, I stumbled upon a live stream titled “Murder Time.” The streamer said, “Let me give you a preview of tonight’s victim: 31 years old, lives in a suburban villa, last name Sun.” My blood ran cold. Those details matched me perfectly. At that exact moment, a voice echoed from downstairs: “Face ID failed.” 1 At 2 AM, I was wired from too much coffee earlier in the day. I was doom-scrolling on my phone when a weird live stream caught my eye. The streamer’s ID was “ChickenLittle_WhoDiesToday.” When I clicked in, there were already fifty or sixty thousand people watching. [Chicken is finally live again! I’ve been waiting forever. My life is so boring without your streams!] [Gifts for Lord Chicken! I wonder which unlucky bastard he’s targeted today!] [Got my snacks, lying in bed, ready for the show!] I knew this guy. He was a serial killer who had recently gone viral. It was the apocalypse; with no new movies or TV shows, live streams had become the main form of entertainment. But people were bored with the usual content. So, a wave of streams featuring murder, looting, and gang fights emerged. And this “Chicken Little” was the most successful of them all. He managed to evade the police every time, and no one could even trace his IP. As usual, Chicken appeared on camera wearing a mask. “First, a preview of today’s victim: female, 31 years old, located in the suburban villa district. If you fit this description, you’d better hide. If I find you…” A high-pitched, maniacal laugh pierced through my speakers. Goosebumps erupted all over my skin. Just as I was about to turn off my phone and sleep, I received a text message. [You saw it, didn’t you? You’re today’s victim. In thirty minutes, you’ll be a ghost under Chicken’s knife. If you don’t want to die, listen to me.] My drowsiness vanished instantly. Chicken had played this game before—telling the victim he was coming for them, enjoying the cat-and-mouse chase. I hurriedly clicked back into the live stream to check. Chicken had already arrived at the entrance of a residential area. The words “Morning Glory Estates” appeared on the screen. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. That wasn’t my neighborhood; I was still a thirty-minute drive away. [Are you crazy? Don’t play such boring jokes!] I angrily typed out a reply. Thanks to this prank, I was wide awake, so I decided to keep watching the stream. But just as I lay back down, a familiar electronic voice drifted up from downstairs. “Face ID failed.” 2 My feet turned to ice. I sprinted to the security door at the top of the stairs and locked it. Theft was rampant these days, so I had installed a separate security door for the second floor just to be safe. The person downstairs was still trying. “Face ID failed.” I tried to calm myself. That lock would automatically freeze after three failed attempts. No one could open it. But the next second… “Unlock successful.” How?! Did he know my passcode?! I gripped my phone, terrified to make a sound. It buzzed again. [Now do you believe me?] But… in the live stream, Chicken was still at the gate of Morning Glory Estates. Other viewers were asking the same question. [Chicken’s stream looks like a recording!] [I get it! He’s tricking the victim into thinking he’s at Morning Glory, but he’s actually somewhere else!] [I live in Morning Glory, I almost jumped out the window just now.] [So exciting! When will Chicken show us the victim?] Faint footsteps echoed from downstairs. It really was me. Today’s unlucky bastard was me. The second-floor security door could buy me some time. I had sealed the windows ages ago, so jumping wasn’t an option. I lived in the suburbs; even if the police came, it would take over an hour. I had to survive this hour on my own. I called the police first, then rushed to my bedroom and put on my Bluetooth headset. I didn’t know when Chicken would start streaming from inside my house, but hearing it was better than being in the dark. After doing all this, I texted the mysterious person back. [Believe what? Stop spouting nonsense!] For all I knew, this person could be Chicken himself, toying with me. I couldn’t trust him. Soon, another message came through. I froze in terror. It was a screenshot of a news article dated June 5, 2025. Today was only June 2. The headline read: [Viral Serial Killer “Chicken Little” Finally Arrested: Confessed to 7 Murders, Caught Alive at Final Crime Scene] The photo was of my living room. And there was another photo—of me, lying in a pool of blood. I swallowed hard, my hands trembling uncontrollably. Should I trust him? 3 Chicken’s voice came through my headset. “I’m inside the victim’s house. Let me give you a tour.” The camera angle shifted, focusing on my family portrait. It really was my house! “Look at how luxurious her life is.” He panned the camera to my kitchen fridge and pantry. [What the hell! She has fresh pork! Kill her, Chicken!] [Is that Vitamin Water?! Chicken, I want that!] [Look at all those meds! Do it, Chicken! I need those! I’ll pay high prices!] Part of Chicken’s popularity came from his Robin Hood persona—he claimed to rob the rich to help the poor. He auctioned off the victims’ belongings to his viewers, earning money from both donations and sales. “Don’t rush, everyone. Maybe the victim is watching my stream right now.” He looked up toward the second floor and shouted. “My little sweetie, I’ll give you ten minutes to hide. After ten minutes, I’m coming for you.” He wore a black hoodie and a mask, his eyes staring straight at me through the screen. Seeing his determined look, I thought about the news article again. Why was I killed? And how was Chicken caught? Why was he caught after I died? Another text message. [Calm down and listen. Chicken has the key to your second floor, so that door won’t stop him. You have ten minutes to hide. [The master bedroom only has a wardrobe and a vanity, and the bed frame is solid. There’s nowhere to hide, so I don’t recommend it. [I remember the bed in the guest room is hollow. You should hide inside the bed base.] [Who are you?] I asked, fighting back fear. He knew I would be killed, and he knew the layout of my house perfectly. I switched back to Chicken’s stream. He was leisurely pouring himself a glass of red wine in the kitchen. My expensive wine! I hadn’t even opened it yet, and he was wasting it. [I’m your boyfriend.] Boyfriend? I almost laughed. I’ve been single for 30 years. 4 [Don’t misunderstand. I’m your boyfriend in a parallel universe. Our timeline is a week ahead of yours. My girlfriend—you—was killed by Chicken. I contacted you by accident. I just want you to live, for her sake.] Parallel universe? That sounded ridiculous. [By the way, I’m a cop, so I know all the details of the case. You must be wondering why you died but Chicken got caught. [In my timeline, you didn’t hide. You fought Chicken head-on. You injured him severely, but he killed you. Because of his injuries, he couldn’t escape.] That sounded like something I would do. In this dog-eat-dog world, a single woman like me couldn’t survive without being tough. “Five minutes left. You better be hiding well.” Even though I didn’t fully trust this guy, he was right about the layout. My master bedroom had zero hiding spots. The guest room not only had a hollow bed base, but I had also hidden a knife in there. “Two minutes left. I wonder if my little sweetie is ready.” Chicken finished the wine and spoke again. [Chicken looked so cool drinking that wine! But why does he keep calling her ‘little sweetie’?] [Yeah! Maybe he likes her looks, that’s why he’s giving her a chance to hide.] [OMG, is Chicken going to livestream… you know… spicy stuff? So exciting.] I cursed under my breath. These netizens were just here for the show. They didn’t care about human life at all! I retrieved the knife from the guest room and carefully lifted the mattress. After hiding, I dimmed my phone screen to the lowest setting. [Are you hidden?] the stranger asked again. [Yes.] After typing that, I scrutinized the news screenshot again. The photo… something felt off. Footsteps were getting closer. Strangely, he didn’t go to the master bedroom first. He walked straight toward the guest room. Wouldn’t a normal person check the master bedroom first?! Unless… I clamped my hand over my mouth, terrified to make a sound. Creak. The guest room door opened. Black boots appeared in my line of sight through the crack in the bed base. I was sweating profusely. “Let’s see what today’s little sweetie looks like.” He squatted down and slowly reached for the mattress.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386773”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I met a guy online. He was gentle, obedient, and deeply affectionate. He showered me with money and gifts, always adding a note: “Voluntary gift.” But there was one problem: he refused to meet in person. It drove me crazy. I imagined all sorts of reasons. Maybe he was ugly. Maybe he was disabled. Until I accidentally stumbled into a horror game world. Late at night, in a strange bed, I was pinned down by the terrifying final boss. His black tentacles roamed over my body, peeling away my clothes piece by piece. I thought I was going to die. Crying, I sent a breakup text to my online boyfriend. The next second, a notification sound—Ding-dong—came from the monster on top of me. Me: “?” Amidst the creeping horror, I heard a cold, yet aggrieved male voice: “Baby, we just met for the first time, and you’re breaking up with me?” 1 I lost contact with my online boyfriend. The reason was a bit messy: I forced him to meet up. Honestly, you can’t blame me… who dates someone online for a year without even knowing what they look like? At first, I suspected it was a scam. But Sebastian frequently sent me flowers, milk tea, and skincare products. Every minor holiday, he’d transfer $5,200 or $13,140. Damn it, he even remembered to add the note “Voluntary gift”! After dating like this for a year, I, someone who used to live paycheck to paycheck, actually became rich! Even so, Sebastian always apologized to me: “I’m sorry, baby. It’s my fault I can’t meet you right now… But baby, I really love you. Whatever other girlfriends have, you’ll have too!” Looking at my bank balance, tears of joy streamed down my face. He gave too much! “Okay, Sebastian, I believe you.” I admit, I was shameful. I bowed down before money. But over time, I developed real feelings. Except for the lack of physical presence, Sebastian was perfect. I slowly grew a “love brain.” However, every time I brought up meeting, Sebastian refused. After refusing, perhaps out of guilt, he would send more money, even offering to buy me a house. Damn, I almost wavered. I started testing him: “Sebastian, actually, it doesn’t matter if you’re short, ugly, or even old.” While I was anxious, Sebastian replied: “Baby, I measured myself, I’m at least 6’5″! I am a little old, but I shouldn’t be ugly…” Lies! If you’re not ugly, why won’t you meet? I gritted my teeth and continued probing: “Then… were you hurt? Are you disabled?” “Baby, I’m very strong. No one can hurt me!” Staring at the message, I sneered. So, what is it? What can’t see the light of day? I couldn’t take it anymore and sent a voice message: “Sebastian, we’ve been dating for a year, and you haven’t even done a voice or video call. What kind of relationship is this?” Seeing I was angry, Sebastian apologized while transferring money. This time, I had a backbone. I clicked refund and sent another voice message: “Sebastian, do you think I’m after your money? As long as you’re human, I insist on meeting. I want to see your true face!” The always good-tempered Sebastian went silent. The “typing…” indicator at the top of the chat flashed for a long time, but not a single word came through. My heart sank. A worst-case scenario popped into my head: Is he… married? Thinking I might be the “other woman,” I ruthlessly sent the final message: “Sebastian, either we meet, or we break up. You choose!” I threatened him with a breakup to force a meeting, and the result… Sebastian ghosted me! I almost cried from anger. Several times I opened the balance, wanting to transfer it back and make a clean break. But alas, I couldn’t harden my heart. I thought, maybe wait a bit longer? Maybe there will be a twist? I couldn’t help it; he gave too much. Boohoo. 2 While tossing and turning, I suddenly received a summons from the police station. People who had bullied me in the past had all died mysteriously overnight. Some in car accidents, some jumped off buildings, some drowned… When the police compiled the victim profiles, they accidentally discovered a common thread: they all knew me, and they had all bullied me! Although I wouldn’t gloat over my enemies’ tragic deaths, I couldn’t help but marvel at karma. But it happened so suddenly, and being suspected by the police felt absurd. After the absurdity passed, I thought of the missing Sebastian, and my heart sank. Could he also be… Ignoring everything else, I wanted to rush to the police station. But when I opened the door, instead of the spring sunshine, I was greeted by a sky full of white fog. My mind went blank for a moment, as if I lost consciousness. When I came to, I found myself standing in an unfamiliar clearing. 3 Looking around, it was foggy everywhere. My right hand felt cold. I looked down. There was a glowing white wristband. Subconsciously touching it, a few lines of small text popped up. [Player Summer, welcome to the Nightmare World.] [Current Dungeon: “The Doll”, S-Class Difficulty.] [Clear Condition: Avoid all unknown dangers and survive until the end.] [(Note: If a player dies in the game, they die in reality as well. Their soul will be trapped in the horror world forever.)] At the very bottom was a line of fine print: [Final interpretation rights belong to the Horror World.] I was dumbfounded. I found the wristband was intangible and couldn’t be removed. “Player, do you wish to start a livestream? The livestream takes no cut; all tips belong to the player.” At this moment, another message popped up on the wristband. …Livestream? I frowned and didn’t make a selection. It defaulted to cancel. I took out my phone and found there was no signal. Calling the police was not an option. Also, time had stopped, showing 7:30 PM. “Hey, why are you spacing out? Don’t waste time, do you want to die?” Just then, a woman’s voice came from ahead. 4 I followed the voice and saw two men and four women standing a few steps away. Invisible to me, comments were scrolling on the livestream: [Who is this female player? She seems to have appeared out of nowhere!] [Checked her profile, she’s a rookie? Isn’t that just free kills?] [Hard to say, Leo is here! She has that innocent look Leo likes. His harem is about to grow.] Suppressing my confusion and panic, I walked up to them. Of the two men, one wearing a leather jacket looked me up and down, extending his hand with a smile: “Hello, I’m Leo. Since we entered the same dungeon, it’s fate… come here, follow behind me, I’ll carry you.” As soon as he finished, a girl got upset and hugged his arm tightly: “Leo, you have us three sisters, isn’t that enough?” I recognized her; she was the girl who called out to me earlier. “Enough, enough. Look at you, Momo, you’ve been with me for so long and you still get jealous!” Leo smiled flirtatiously, putting his arms around the three girls. “If we don’t enter the dungeon, when the fog swallows this place, we’ll all die!” At this time, the remaining girl spoke coldly. She seemed to be with the other man in black clothes. She also looked me up and down: “Once in the dungeon, life and death are up to fate. Don’t count on anyone!” With that, she and the man in black turned and walked toward a spot ahead. I noticed the fog was quietly shrinking, just like the safe zone in a battle royale game. If I didn’t move, I would die. Ignoring Leo’s hand, I followed the man and woman ahead. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Leo’s face darken, and he curled his lips in a mocking sneer at me. [My girl Qing is such a cool girl, I want to hug her!] [What’s with the high and mighty act? She’s just following Feng, trying to act like a boss babe!] [Leave my Leo alone, he’s a scumbag and he owns it. He just wants to give every girl a home!] Amidst the arguing comments, someone suddenly paid for a pinned message: [Stop arguing! Isn’t the point of camping this dungeon to see the Big Boss’s god-tier face? Who cares about Leo or Feng? When the supreme Boss appears, he crushes all mortals!] 5 I’ve read some novels, so I confirmed I had entered an “infinite flow” survival world. Although absurd, I took a deep breath and tried to accept the reality. Everything around was white, like heavy winter fog. After walking a few steps, at the end where the fog dispersed, an old hotel appeared. The hotel hadn’t been maintained for years. Paint was peeling off the exterior walls, mottled red and white patches looking quite shocking. At this moment, the gate was open, and the lights inside were bright. Entering the hotel, I realized the lobby was full of guests sitting at tables. They held knives and forks, poking at empty plates. Hearing someone arrive, they looked up at us. Their eyes were dyed with scarlet greed, like looking at lambs to the slaughter. Some were even drooling. I felt a chill run down my spine. Although these people wore human skin, what monsters lay beneath was unknown. Bang— The gate behind us slammed shut. My heart trembled. Before I could catch my breath, there was another Bang—, and a small figure flew past my eyes. It was a little girl. Like a rag doll, she smashed heavily into the corner. She wore a dirty little dress and looked beaten half to death. Her childish voice begged weakly: “Daddy… don’t hit me…” In her arms was a similarly dirty doll. After speaking, she looked up towards us, tears of blood flowing from her eyes: “Brother, sister… help me… I don’t want to die…” Seeing this scene, my face turned pale, triggering hidden, unbearable memories. “Leo, it’s the doll.” At this time, Momo pulled Leo and pointed at the little girl. No one responded to the little girl’s cry for help. I also closed my eyes and looked away. The next moment, the owner walked out. “Money-losing goods, shut your mouth!” The owner, his face covered in fat, kicked the little girl viciously. Vaguely, I heard the sound of bones cracking, and the little girl went quiet. …Fainted or dead? I dared not look, clenching my hands tightly. “Valued guests, welcome from afar. Please show your ID so I can register you.” The owner turned around. Facing us, he squeezed out an enthusiastic and fawning smile. The fat on his face piled up, looking like a slab of white pork, disgusting. I observed Leo and the others, seeing them tap their wristbands and take out an invitation. After taking his, Leo turned to look at me: “Summer, what a beautiful name, just like the person… So, you’re a rookie? If you don’t know how, I can teach you.” “She’s a rookie?” Momo beside him looked at me with contempt: “Seems the bug hasn’t been fixed. A few days ago, a batch of rookies stumbled into an S-class dungeon and had the bad luck to land in the Big Boss’s hands. They were wiped out overnight!” For some reason, hearing this, I suddenly connected it to the call from the police station. Those people who bullied me died tragically overnight a few days ago… “Momo, don’t scare her. Everyone starts as a rookie… Summer, you probably don’t know how to operate the wristband. I’ll teach you.” Leo walked behind me with a smile, trying to put his arms around me to operate the wristband. I quickly dodged. Following the steps I observed, I successfully took out the invitation: “Thanks, Mr. Leo, but no need.” He licked his thin lips, his gaze lingering on me for a long time: “No worries, there will always be things you don’t know, needing me to teach you hand-in-hand.” Gross! I felt greasy just listening to him! Ignoring him, I watched the owner take the invitations and respectfully go upstairs. The hotel had a spiral staircase winding upwards. Looking up, it seemed like a vortex. The owner’s figure gradually shrank and disappeared on the top floor. About a minute later, suddenly, the owner flew straight into the air and then fell heavily. Directly, he smashed onto the floor not far from me. Like a meat patty. Blood spread beneath him, but it was pitch black! This change stunned not only the players but also the guests in the lobby who were sharpening their knives. They all looked up at the top floor, silent as cicadas in winter.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386772”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It was freezing cold, and I was digging through the school’s donation bin for old clothes. The richest girl in class caught me. Shame and inferiority washed over me. But then, she handed me a black plastic bag. “We have too many at home. They’ll expire if no one uses them.” I lowered my head. I was on my period, using toilet paper as a pad. Inside the bag were brand new sanitary pads. And inside that bag, she also preserved my crumbling dignity. 1 I snuck out at night to raid the donation bin. I didn’t want to, but it was freezing. My thin shirt couldn’t block the biting winter wind. The bin was designed so clothes dropped to the bottom. If it weren’t overflowing with donations, I wouldn’t have had a chance to fish anything out. Dignity? That shattered the moment I stood on my tiptoes, reaching into the bin like a scavenger. I finally snagged a thick coat. It was too big, but it looked warm. But when I looked up, my relieved smile froze. Standing there was Chloe, the richest girl in our class. She was a loner, always draped in clothes that cost more than my dad made in a month. She didn’t live on campus. I had no idea why she was still here after evening study hall. In that moment, my shame, helplessness, and fear condensed into a single sentence: “I’m sorry, I wasn’t stealing, I just…” The donation bin was for poor kids in rural mountain schools. I couldn’t finish the sentence. In my heart, it was stealing. She didn’t say a word. She just walked over and shoved a black plastic bag into my hands. “Use these. We have too many at home, they’ll expire if they aren’t used.” Then she turned and walked away. She didn’t even wait to see if I accepted it. Just shoved it at me. I didn’t have time to ask anything. I just watched her disappear into the snow. Years later, whenever I talked about that snowy night, I always said the same thing: “Chloe, you really were a true heiress. So cool.” Only after she was gone did I open the bag. It was full of pads. I checked the dates. They were manufactured a month ago. Nowhere near expiring. She walked away so decisively, just to protect my fragile pride. 2 I rarely paid attention to Chloe before. She always seemed high and mighty, keeping everyone at a distance. She didn’t even like talking to people. Her grades were above average. On casual dress days, she never repeated an outfit for a month. Naturally, our paths never crossed. But right now, I desperately wanted to thank her. Last night, when I went back to the dorm to wash up, I realized my black pants were stained. Toilet paper just couldn’t hold back the flood. I wondered how many classmates had witnessed my humiliating disaster yesterday. I thought, maybe she’s not antisocial. Maybe she’s just… good. My mom has intellectual disabilities; she couldn’t teach me these things. My dad works hard, but he couldn’t afford these things. The inferiority of poverty bent my spine and lowered my head. During the break, I cautiously approached Chloe. “Chloe, thank you for last night.” She glanced at me. Her eyes flicked to the hem of my shirt. Shame flooded me again. Under my faded school uniform, the coat I scavenged last night was poking out. I knew my face was red, burning all the way to my ears. But she just reached out and pulled my uniform down to cover it. “Nothing to thank me for.” She was as quiet as ever. After saying that, she went back to her English worksheet. But after evening study hall, she stopped me. “My mom bought me this jacket and I hate it. It’s ugly. We’re about the same size, you take it.” Her tone was blunt, almost rude. That’s why classmates called her arrogant and unapproachable. The bag she handed me contained a brand new down jacket. No tags. I didn’t recognize the brand. I tried to refuse. “No, it’s too expensive. I found a coat, I have enough.” I noticed the sole of my sneaker had a hole. Snowmelt was seeping in, freezing my foot. “Expensive?” She looked at me. “You think I’d wear cheap clothes?” Suddenly, she seemed cute, even with her fierce expression. She was trying so hard to protect my pride, making up excuses she couldn’t quite sell, so she just acted tough. I smiled at her. “Can I bring you lunch then?” She hated the cold. I noticed that early on. In winter, she bundled up like a dumpling. I remember someone asking if she skipped lunch to diet, and she said, “I’m afraid of the cold. I don’t want to go out.” I wanted to do something for her. I started bringing her lunch. A few days later, as I walked into the classroom, someone jeered: “Look, here comes Chloe’s servant girl!” 3 High school kids don’t realize how heavy words can be. The lunch box in my hand felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. But I gripped it tight and placed it on Chloe’s desk. She wasn’t there, so the mockery died down. When she walked in, someone immediately asked, “Chloe, when did Lily become your maid?” Chloe was holding a pair of freshly washed chopsticks. She glanced at me. I was sitting in my seat, head down, terrified to look up. She said calmly, “I hate the cold and didn’t want to go out, so I asked her for a favor. What’s the problem? Since when is helping a classmate being a maid?” She raised her voice. “Want to go tell the teacher about it?” Her serious expression scared off the gossipers. She walked straight to my desk and slammed an apple down. “I don’t like apples. You eat it.” I didn’t dare speak. I wanted to say thank you. But my poverty-induced cowardice couldn’t keep up with this bright, bold girl. What seemed like the end of the world to me was nothing to her. She went back to eating as if nothing happened. At least her food was still hot. I had carried it against my chest all the way. The apple was so sweet. I rarely ate fruit this good. Usually, it was whatever wild fruit we could pick in the countryside. Big, sweet, juicy apples were a luxury. My desk mate whispered, “How did you get in with Chloe?” I couldn’t tell the story of that night, so I mumbled, “Maybe she thinks I’m immune to cold?” I wasn’t immune. I was just used to freezing. “Makes sense.” My desk mate didn’t pry, but she added a warning. “She’s rich, but you should stay away from her.” “Why?” She leaned in close. “You’re always studying, so you don’t know. Why do you think no one hangs out with her?” She looked mysterious. “She acts like a princess, but money isn’t everything. Who knows if it’s dirty money?” “I heard her dad killed someone.” “A murderer’s daughter… what if she’s violent too?” “Stay away from her.” 4 It was the first time I’d heard this. But true or false, I still thought she was a good person. “I knew you wouldn’t believe it. But my grandma lives near her family. Everyone there knows.” She whispered conspiratorially, “Don’t tell anyone I told you.” I hate “I heard.” Usually, it’s lies. And true or false, I wanted to be her friend. Compared to my poverty, she looked so lonely. The down jacket she gave me was incredibly warm. I didn’t understand how something so thin could be so warm. The lunch delivery thing kept causing gossip. I became immune to the word “servant.” Even if they said it to my face, I ignored it. Because the heiress gave too much. Maybe Chloe was watching her weight, because she ate very little. Every time I brought lunch, she made me take half. The money I saved on lunch bought me stationery. Seeing her disinterested attitude towards everything, I suddenly asked, “Chloe, want me to tutor you?” Her expression was a mix of shock and something I couldn’t read. I kept my grades in the top 50 because I had no other entertainment. And I knew from a young age that education could change my fate. Even though my dad had to care for my disabled mom, he always told me: “Go to school. They say if you study hard, you won’t have to live like mom and dad. Dad will find a way to pay.” Dad wasn’t Superman. He couldn’t find many ways. So I got used to scrimping and saving. She looked at me and refused flatly. “No need. My family hired a tutor.” I really wanted to ask what kind of tutor kept her grades so consistently mediocre. I thought for a moment. “I won’t charge you. I eat your lunch, let me pay with knowledge?” She looked surprised. “But I would have thrown that food away.” “It’s different,” I insisted, face heating up. “Because I help you, I save money on my own lunch.” I was young and had pointless pride. My voice got quiet. She thought for a moment. “Fine. Come to my house this weekend after school.” Girls are the best. She didn’t just give me extra food. She switched to a bigger lunch box for herself.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386771”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When I woke up in the morning, I was barely dressed. Liam sat at the edge of the bed, smoking a cigarette, looking satisfied. “Jayden stole my business, so I stole his woman. Call it even.” Buddy, you got the wrong person. I’m not his woman. I’m just the stand-in for that sickly rich boy’s obsession. 1 The first time Jayden visited the Amethyst Lounge, he set his sights on Crystal. He chose Crystal to drink with him, but decided it wasn’t romantic enough, so he demanded I provide background vocals. In the private room, he confessed to her: “Crystal, I like you.” Crystal: “Thank you, Mr. Jayden.” “Will you be my girlfriend?” “Sorry, I only sell drinks, not my body.” “I’m not asking you to sell your body! Be my official girlfriend. I’ll support you. You won’t have to work in a place like this anymore.” “You want to keep me? Sorry, I’m not for sale.” They were enacting a melodramatic soap opera right there. And I, the insignificant supporting character, was stuck in the corner singing background music to set the mood. The song was “Thousands of Songs,” a classic cantopop ballad Jayden specifically requested. After I finished, Jayden, whose attention was entirely on Crystal, turned to me and said, “Don’t change the song. Loop it ten times.” My heart wept. After over an hour of this tug-of-war, the young master finally lost his patience and showed his true colors. “You only drink and don’t ‘sell,’ right? Fine, today you’re going to drink your fill!” He pointed to a row of shot glasses filled with hard liquor on the table and said to Crystal, “Five hundred bucks a shot.” I thought, Damn, what a deal! I want to drink too! Crystal didn’t say a word. She picked up a glass and downed it. By the eighth glass, she ran out to vomit. Jayden leaned back on the sofa, looking like he hated the world. I leaned in. “Mr. Jayden, how about I drink for Crystal? I’ll do it for two hundred a shot.” Jayden didn’t even look at me. He said coldly, “Keep singing.” That night, Crystal risked her life to down twenty shots and earned a five-figure tip. I sang “Thousands of Songs” fifty times until my throat felt like it was smoking, and only got a basic $150 tip. Comparison is the thief of joy, and I was being robbed blind. For several days in a row, Jayden came every day, requested Crystal every day, and spent thousands each time. Unfortunately, money can’t buy love. Crystal refused to be his girlfriend, no matter what. 2 Later, Jayden disappeared. He probably gave up. I told Crystal, “You broke that pure boy’s heart.” Crystal looked indifferent. “I have plenty of clients. One less won’t hurt.” Tsk, such a flex. I had to admit, Crystal had the capital to flex. She was exceptionally beautiful, with a cold, aloof personality. An ice queen. She was the most sought-after girl here. One early morning, I got home around 3 AM. Just as I was about to sleep, my phone rang. It was a voice call from Jayden on WeChat. His voice sounded hollow and exhausted. “I can’t sleep. Sing to me over the phone. I’ll pay you.” Rich people really know how to play. “Okay, what do you want to hear?” “Thousands of Songs.” Again? What was his obsession with this old song? But the customer is king. Orders must be executed perfectly. I cleared my throat and sang softly: “Looking back slowly, at the night that once belonged to us…” … When I finished, he said, “Keep singing. Don’t stop even if I fall asleep. Sing until dawn.” This was too much! Just as I was about to refuse sternly, he sent a transfer. $450. “If I wake up and can still hear you, I’ll send another $450.” I silently accepted the transfer. Business had been slow lately. For $900, I’d sing my lungs out! Over and over again, a human jukebox on repeat. I almost went crazy singing it. Until the sky turned light gray, after who knows how many repetitions, his voice finally came through the phone: “I’m awake. You can stop now.” Thank the Lord, I was finally liberated! As I hung up, I received another $450 transfer from Jayden. Attached was a message: “I slept well last night. Thank you.” Sigh, poor boy. I couldn’t tell him the truth. Crystal already had a sugar daddy, a fifty-year-old CEO named Mr. Han. She was basically his kept woman. When Mr. Han was out of town during the week, she worked at the lounge. When he came back on weekends, she went to him. Earning money from both ends until her legs went soft. Rumor had it she’d already put a down payment on a condo. How could a woman like that be interested in a kid like Jayden? I asked Crystal, “Jayden isn’t bad. Young, handsome, and sincere. Are you really not considering him?” Crystal lit a cigarette. “I started working at sixteen. I’ve been in this industry for five years. I’ve seen them all. “A kid like Jayden isn’t a real rich second generation. He probably stole his parents’ savings or is spending his tuition money. “See, he hasn’t come for days. Probably ran out of cash.” The ice queen exhaled a cloud of smoke, wrapped in world-weariness and cynicism. 3 But I didn’t tell Crystal the truth either. Actually, Jayden hadn’t run out of money. Every morning at 3 AM, he would call me promptly on WeChat and ask me to sing “Thousands of Songs.” $450 before singing, $450 after waking up. Never missed a payment. It sounded great. But honestly, this money was hard to earn. I didn’t know how I kept going. Sometimes I was so sleepy I’d stab my thigh with a hairpin to stay awake. Ancient scholars tied their hair to the beam to study; modern lounge singers stabbed their thighs to survive. No choice. I had to live. Half a month later, I transferred a sum of money to my mom. I asked, “How is my brother doing?” Mom sounded down. “Still not good. Your dad and I discussed it; we’re going to switch to imported medicine.” Imported medicine meant more money. Much, much more money. That meant I had to work even harder. I started taking day jobs, accompanying clients to dinners and drinking for tips. At 8 PM, I’d rush to the lounge for my shift. At 3 AM, I’d sing for the sickly rich boy. For half a month, I spun like a top. Sometimes I was so tired I’d fall asleep sitting on the toilet. One night, I met a big spender who challenged us girls to drink. $100 tip per shot. I was sleepy, but hearing that, I perked up instantly. I rushed forward like a madwoman and started drinking. I don’t remember when I blacked out. When I woke up, the sun was high in the sky. I sat up in bed like a dying patient jolted back to life. “Thousands of Songs!” Checking WeChat, Jayden had called me 15 times between 3 AM and 8 AM. I hurriedly messaged him: “I’m so sorry! I drank too much last night and blacked out. I didn’t mean to stand you up.” A while later, Jayden replied: “How much did the client pay you to make you drink like that?” My heart clogged. His words felt sharp. I replied with restraint: “It’s my job. I have no choice.” He doubled down: “Why do such a job?” “To make money. Why, do you think it’s shameful?” “More than shameful. It’s cheap.” I only replied with a smile emoji. 4 My restraint saved me Jayden, this VIP client. At 3 AM, he called as usual, apologizing immediately: “Sorry. I didn’t sleep all night. During the day, I couldn’t control my temper. I spoke harshly and hurt you.” I said, “It’s fine. But I have a question. Why are you obsessed with ‘Thousands of Songs’?” I wanted to know what trauma made him need someone singing to sleep every night. Silence on the other end. Then: “When I was little, my mom used to sing it to me to sleep. Your voice sounds like hers.” Ah, so it was a lullaby. “You don’t think I have an Oedipus complex, do you? Haha.” He laughed, a clear, bright sound. Like the sun breaking through clouds. “Don’t worry, I don’t see you as my mom. I just haven’t seen her in a long time. I miss her.” “Where did she go?” “I don’t know. Maybe Canada, maybe the UK. She changed her contact info. I can’t find her.” I can’t find her. He said it lightly, but I felt the heavy sadness. I suddenly thought of my brother. He was the same age as Jayden, nineteen. My brother was a good student, the hope of the family. In the first semester of his senior year, he fainted after midterms. After a month of transferring between hospitals, the diagnosis came. Leukemia. I was in college then, studying hard to transfer to a university. After the diagnosis, I cried in the library all night. The next day, I calmly filed for a leave of absence. Leaving school, I took off my jeans, put on black stockings, let down my ponytail, dyed my hair a trendy color, and entered the Amethyst Lounge. I needed money. A lot of money, very quickly. A month later, I sent the first remittance home. My parents never asked how I earned the money. Maybe they guessed but were afraid to hear the truth. As long as it could save my brother’s life, how I earned it didn’t matter. I stopped thinking about my future. I just made money like a machine. Earn, earn, earn. Jayden’s appearance plucked a nerve I thought had gone numb.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386770”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When my dad’s “first love” returned from abroad, she demanded my mom step down as Mrs. Sterling. My mom, being the sweet, naive trophy wife she was, didn’t want anything. She just wanted to take me with her. I pinned my mom down, furious at her lack of ambition. “Mom! Why do you want me? You want the money!” “Wouldn’t it be nice to take this middle-aged man’s fortune and hire ten hot young guys to fan you with palm leaves?” “Me? Don’t worry about me.” “I’ll use his money to support you!” 1 In the living room, my dad, Richard Sterling—a successful, handsome, middle-aged man—sat upright. Next to him sat his returning “white moonlight,” Linda. My mom, Sarah, the sweet, naive trophy wife, was holding my hand, crying her eyes out. “Richard, I don’t want anything. But Nina has to come with me!” Linda advised gently: “Sarah, the child will have a better future with Richard. You need to consider her well-being. Don’t be selfish.” My dad looked at her with admiration. My mom cried even harder. “I only have Nina. I don’t care, I…” Before she could finish, I grabbed her, pulled her aside, and whispered fiercely into her ear: “Mom! Why do you want me? Ask for the money!” My mom stared at me, tears hanging on her lashes, looking pitiful. “Nina?” I sighed, exasperated. “Take Richard’s money. Travel the world. Date a dozen college boys. Doesn’t that sound better?” Her eyes went wide. She was nearly forty but still as innocent as a teenager. “B-but what about you?” I continued brainwashing her. “Me? Don’t worry about me. I’ll stay, keep being the rich heiress, and funnel his money to you later!” My mom hesitated. “But…” I cut her off, turned to my dad, and flashed a fake corporate smile. “Dad, let’s discuss Mom’s compensation for lost youth and emotional damages…” 2 My dad, amused by my sudden business-like tone, took a sip of tea. “Let’s hear it.” I didn’t hold back. I smiled and started listing demands like a menu. “First, the penthouse downtown goes to Mom. Second, fifteen percent of your company’s original shares. Not too much, right? Finally, a bit of cash. Let’s say… a hundred million. A nice round number.” Mom gasped behind me. Linda’s face fell, but she maintained her gentle facade. “Nina, you’re still young. You don’t understand these things. This would impact your father’s company greatly.” I glanced at her. “Auntie, my parents are discussing divorce settlements. As an outsider, why are you interrupting?” “I…” Linda’s face flushed red. My dad waved a hand to silence her, looking at me with interest. “Fifteen percent is too much. The house and cash are fine.” “No deal.” I stood my ground. “The shares are the bottom line. Mom was with you for seventeen years. Even if she didn’t build the empire, she supported you. Now you’re kicking her out for your old flame. You have to give her some security, right? Otherwise, word gets out that Richard Sterling abandons his wife… that’ll hurt the stock price more.” “You!” My dad choked on his anger. I met his gaze fearlessly. You think you can treat my mom like a disposable napkin? Dream on. After a tense silence, Richard suddenly laughed. “Fine. I agree.” He agreed so readily it surprised me. “Shares, house, cash. All hers. But I have one condition.” “What condition?” He pointed at me. “You stay.” 3 I knew why he wanted me. No one knew my dad’s ego better than I did. He liked Linda, sure. But I was excellent, a worthy heir in his eyes. Plus, Linda couldn’t have kids anymore. Whatever his reasons, it played right into my hands. I had to stay to remain the rich heiress, to spend his money, to support my naive mom. A perfect loop. But Sarah wasn’t having it. She pulled me behind her, glaring at Richard like a protective hen. “No! I don’t want the money! I want my daughter!” Me: “…” Mom, wake up! You’re delaying the wire transfer! I dragged her aside again for more ideological work. “Mom, listen. I’m going undercover behind enemy lines, get it?” “What?” “Think about it. You leave with the money, free as a bird. “If I stay, he’ll feel guilty and treat me better. I’ll just transfer my allowance to you. It’s sustainable wool-shearing!” Mom nodded, half-understanding. I added the final blow: “Besides, with me here, he and his ‘white moonlight’ won’t have it easy. I’ll be a thorn in their side, a constant reminder of the kind, beautiful wife he lost.” Mom’s expression shifted. She looked at me, then at Richard. Finally, with my encouragement, she nodded—humiliated but tragic. I smiled, relieved. The agreement was signed quickly. Richard’s lawyers were efficient. Sarah signed her name with a trembling hand. In that moment, she officially became a multi-millionaire. 4 The moment my mom left, Linda started asserting her dominance. “Nina, we’re a family now.” She smiled gently and cooked dinner herself. Four dishes and a soup, plating exquisite. “Nina, try my Squirrel Fish. It’s my specialty.” She enthusiastically put food in my bowl. I looked at the perfect fish and felt zero appetite. My mom might be naive, but her cooking was legendary. My palate had been spoiled since birth. I put down my chopsticks, pulled out my phone, and opened Uber Eats. “One deluxe black truffle pizza, double cheese. And a sashimi platter…” I ordered slowly, right in front of her. Linda’s smile froze. “Nina, I worked hard on this…” I interrupted. “Auntie, Dad hired a chef. You didn’t need to cook. Besides, I don’t like your food.” Anger finally surfaced on Linda’s face. My dad came out of the study and frowned. “Nina, how are you talking to Auntie Linda?” I shrugged. “Dad, if you like it, you eat it.” My dad, naturally backing his true love, took a bite of the fish. Under Linda’s expectant gaze, he hesitated before saying gently: “Linda, let’s leave the cooking to the chef from now on.” Linda nodded, humiliated, but didn’t dare argue. The delivery arrived quickly. I turned on the projector, ate, and watched a movie. Linda’s carefully prepared meal sat untouched on the table. 5 The next morning, I came downstairs to find Linda directing the servants. “Change these curtains to beige, it matches the sofa better.” “This vase is tacky. Get a classier one.” “And Richard’s study—he likes it tidy. Put away all those knick-knacks.” She was playing the lady of the house, changing everything my mom loved. I sneered and walked over. “Maria, leave the vase.” Maria looked torn between me and Linda. Linda walked over, speaking softly. “Nina, the style is outdated. Changing it will lift everyone’s mood.” “My mood is fine.” I leaned on the banister, ignoring her passive-aggressive tone. “I’m used to what my mom picked. If you’re not used to it, you can move out.” “Nina!” My dad’s voice came from the dining room, warningly. I turned to him, spreading my hands innocently. “Dad, Mom decorated every corner of this house. She just left, and you can’t wait to erase her existence?” Linda walked over, tugging Dad’s sleeve gently. “Richard, don’t blame Nina. I didn’t think it through. I just wanted to make the home warmer…” Her eyes reddened, looking like she’d been terribly wronged. The middle-aged man’s heart melted instantly. He patted Linda’s shoulder and turned to me. “Nina, Auntie Linda means well. She’s in charge of the house now.” I smiled. “Great. Is she in charge of me too?” Dad nodded instinctively. Exactly what I was waiting for. I pulled out my phone, opened a luxury website, and pointed to the latest bag. “Auntie Linda, which color should I get? Or should I get one of each?” Linda froze. I continued sincerely: “And the charity gala next week—I want to bid on a diamond necklace. Can you help me decide the budget?” I shoved the phone in her face, smiling sweetly. “Dad said you’re in charge. My spending falls under that, right?” Linda’s face turned green.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386769”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel