Author: Momo Chan

After successfully completing my mission, I chose to stay for Adam Lannister. Perhaps because I didn’t belong to this world, in our fifth year of marriage, I still hadn’t conceived. Just as everyone was secretly mocking me for failing to produce an heir for the wealthy Lannister family. Adam returned with a test report, which showed that he was the one who couldn’t have children. The Lannister family, who had always been cold and sarcastic towards me, immediately changed their tune. For my sake, Adam took all the blame upon himself. He said he loved me, that he didn’t want to divorce me, even if I couldn’t conceive, even if we never had our own biological children, he didn’t want to leave. Later, he took it upon himself to arrange for us to adopt a child, and our lives became calm and happy. Until today, when I suddenly received an email. The email stated that the child Adam and I had adopted, the precious baby I had cherished for ten years, was Adam’s illegitimate son. 1. Today marks my wedding anniversary with Adam Lannister. Under the envious gazes of onlookers, Adam and our son, like a prince and his knight, came before me, presenting me with an anniversary gift. It was a star named after me. “Jenny, you are truly blessed. Your husband loves you, and your son is so thoughtful,” my friend said. Indeed, to outsiders, I was undeniably a winner in life. I arrived in this world at eighteen, married Adam Lannister at twenty-two. Now, our son, Leo, is eight years old, intelligent and adorable. My life has been smooth sailing, full of happiness and contentment. The only bump in the road, perhaps, was the fact that in the five years after marrying Adam, I hadn’t conceived. Everyone assumed it was my problem; even I believed it. Because I didn’t truly belong to this world. But as the only son of the Lannister family, an heir was crucial. Facing constant criticism and pressure from the Lannister family, Adam was caught in the middle, torn between loyalties. Until one day, Adam brought back a medical report. It showed that he was the one who couldn’t have children. From that moment on, no one dared to utter the words “childbearing” in front of Adam and me. To be with me, he was willing to endure all the gossip and criticism. “I don’t want you to be sad, or to blame yourself, or to feel burdened. All the pressure, I can bear it alone.” He said. With such a husband, what more could a wife ask for? Recalling the past, a flood of emotions overwhelmed me, and tears streamed down my face. “Such a grown woman, still so prone to crying,” Adam said, gently wiping away my tears as he comforted me. I stared into his loving eyes, shaking with sobs. His love for me really didn’t seem fake. But he could also love me, while simultaneously bringing his illegitimate son home as an adopted child, keeping me completely in the dark. For five whole years. He had played me for a fool for five years. 2. Outside, the night was deep and dark, with only a dim bedside lamp illuminating the room. I lay with my back to Adam Lannister, pretending to be asleep. Adam sensed my low spirits and asked with concern, “What’s wrong? Still worried about Leo’s birthday?” Yes, Leo’s birthday was just a week away. I had been so busy planning the perfect birthday for Leo these past few days, but now, I no longer had the heart for it. The content of the email was like a thorn, deeply embedded in my heart, leaving me no peace. Adam suddenly got out of bed, opened the nightstand drawer, and pulled out an exquisite wooden box. “Oh, almost forgot. Look at this,” he said, opening the box. Inside was a diamond necklace, sparkling brilliantly under the light. “Isn’t it beautiful? I had it specially custom-made for you. Do you like it?” he asked gently, picking up the necklace. Looking at Adam, my eyes stung. He was always so thoughtful; throughout our marriage, I had received countless little surprises. But what were these surprises compared to the package I received this morning? I closed my eyes, the contents of that package still vivid in my memory. It was a paternity test report, along with several intimate photos of Adam and a woman. I recognized the woman in the photos: Maya Thorne, the housekeeper’s daughter, who had gone abroad years ago and recently returned. And the paternity test report clearly stated: Adam Lannister and Leo, a paternal relationship is supported. Leo was already ten years old. This meant that as early as our third year of marriage, Adam had already been unfaithful. 3. Leo’s birthday party was lavishly arranged; almost half the city’s elite were present. I stood beside Adam, elegantly playing the role of hostess. The banquet proceeded smoothly, with guests clinking glasses, chatting and laughing, a scene of joyful revelry. “Mrs. Lannister looks so young and beautiful, one would never guess she’s the mother of a ten-year-old,” a socialite said, holding a glass of champagne and complimenting me with a smile. “Indeed, Mr. Lannister is truly fortunate,” another echoed. I looked at Leo, diligently eating cake in the distance, and smiled modestly, a hint of bitterness in my heart. Leo was indeed well-behaved and thoughtful. For years, I had treated him as my own son, but after learning the truth, I truly didn’t know how to face him. The accident happened suddenly. As soon as Leo finished his cake, red rashes suddenly appeared on his face, as if he was having an allergic reaction. “Leo, what’s wrong?” Even though I knew Leo’s true identity, the child was innocent. I quickly put down my champagne and rushed over to check on him. “Mom, I’m itchy…” Leo scratched at his face in discomfort, his small face scrunched up. “Quick, call a doctor!” Adam was also flustered. Seeing Leo’s distress, I fumbled in my bag for tissues, wanting to wipe the sweat from his face, but my mother-in-law shoved me aside. “How could there be mango in the cake? Don’t you know the child is allergic to it?!” “What kind of mother are you?!” My mother-in-law glared at me furiously. “Just because he wasn’t born from your belly, you don’t feel any affection for him, do you?!” Hearing those words, I froze. My mother-in-law’s words exploded in my ears like thunder. Adam’s mother had always disliked me. In the past, I would have just thought she was indirectly criticizing me for not being able to have children. But her attitude towards Leo was clearly that of a doting grandmother! Connecting all the dots, I uncovered a shocking truth. This entire Lannister family—was I the only one kept in the dark? My mother-in-law was still nagging me, but Adam stepped forward, shielding me, his tone stern: “Mom, I arranged this birthday party, and the cake was also my choice. It has nothing to do with Jenny; please don’t blame her.” My mother-in-law still wanted to say something, but seeing Adam’s gaze, she eventually closed her mouth. The family doctor arrived quickly, examined Leo, and confirmed it was a mango allergy. I looked at Leo’s red and swollen face with a pang of heartache, gently holding his hand, wanting to offer some comfort. But Leo forcefully pulled his hand away, saying tearfully, “I don’t want Mom, I want Dad!” Seeing the child’s strong resistance towards me, the guests at the party looked on with strange expressions. Helpless, I could only get up and go to the room to get Leo a change of clothes. When I returned, I overheard Adam softly asking Leo. “There was no mango in the cake. You secretly ate it yourself, didn’t you?” Leo’s small face turned even paler, his eyes darting away, not daring to look at Adam. “Speak up!” Adam’s voice hardened. Leo’s tears welled up in his eyes. “I ate it myself.” “Why would you do that?” Adam’s voice turned cold. Leo bit his lip, hesitated for a moment, then whispered, “I wanted Grandma to think that Mom doesn’t like me. That way, Maya-Mommy could come pick me up…” Adam’s face instantly changed. He grabbed Leo’s shoulders, his tone stern: “Who told you these things?!” Leo was startled by Adam, and his tears finally streamed down. He sobbed, “Maya-Mommy told me… I miss her. If I want to see her every day, I have to do this.” Adam took a deep breath. He released Leo’s shoulders, speaking in a serious tone: “Leo, listen to me clearly. If you still want to be my son, don’t ever do such a foolish thing again.” “But I just miss Maya-Mommy…” Leo tried to say something else, but Adam cut him off. “Don’t mention her again!” Adam said. “As long as you’re in this house, don’t mention her.” “Okay,” Leo pouted. Adam watched Leo agree, and his tone gradually softened. He said gently, “Leo, I know you like her, but if you listen to Dad, you’ll have two mothers, and you’ll be the most loved child by all three of us.” Leo looked up, his eyes misty with tears, and softly asked, “Really?” “Of course, it’s true,” Adam smiled and nodded. “When has Dad ever lied to you?” “Then I want to see Maya-Mommy, can I?” Leo asked. Adam hesitated for a moment, but eventually nodded. And watching this scene of doting father and son, I only felt absurdity. 4. I remembered when Leo first came to the Lannister household, he was already five years old, which was really not an ideal age to be adopted. But Adam liked him. He said they had a special connection. I held his hand, gently telling him, “Leo, this will be your home from now on.” I had the staff prepare the best room in the house for him as his bedroom. The room was filled with all sorts of toys, all carefully chosen by me. In the evenings, I would tell him bedtime stories and lull him to sleep. He was very dependent on me, always wanting to cling to me. Under everyone’s care, Leo gradually grew into a sunny, cheerful, lively, and adorable boy. He loved to cuddle, always hugging my legs and sweetly calling me “Mom.” Every time he did, my heart would melt. Somehow, two years ago, Leo asked me. “Mom, will you love me forever?” I smiled, pulling him into my embrace, gently patting his back as tenderly as if rocking a baby to sleep: “Of course, Mom will always love you.” “What if one day, I do something wrong and make you angry?” he asked, seemingly still unsure. “No matter what happens, will Mom still love me?” “Even if I’m not Mom’s child, will Mom still love me?” My heart tightened then. I thought someone had told him something, making him believe adopted children weren’t truly loved. So I playfully tweaked his small nose, my voice doting: “No matter what happens, Mom will still love you just the same, because you’re Mom’s most precious child.” But later, Leo became more and more distant from me. I would ask him how school was, how his studies were, and if he had encountered any difficulties. He always acted distant, giving only perfunctory answers like “It’s fine,” “Okay,” “No.” I felt very disheartened and sad about this. I even wondered if I had done something wrong to displease him. I told Adam about these things. But he merely said, casually, “Children grow up and have their own little secrets; it’s normal. Don’t overthink it.” Now that I think about it, two years ago was when Maya Thorne returned to the country. They had already reconnected. 5. I lay awake all night, my eyes dry, yet I couldn’t sleep. Adam Lannister and Leo were already dressed and ready to go out, both in casual clothes, seemingly in good spirits. “Jenny, Leo and I are going out. We won’t be back for lunch.” I nodded, saying nothing. “I’ll be going then,” Adam said, taking Leo’s hand and turning to leave. “Wait a moment.” I called out to him. Adam turned back, looking at me with confusion. I walked up to them, crouched down, straightened Leo’s collar, tied his shoelaces, and then discreetly slipped the wiretap I had prepared into his pocket. “Would you… like me to go with you?” I finally ventured. Adam and Leo both paused simultaneously, then shook their heads in unison. “No need, we’ll be fine on our own,” Adam said. “That’s right, Mom, you stay home and rest,” Leo added. I had already become the superfluous one between father and son. Watching their receding backs, I picked up my phone and called the private detective: “Please investigate Maya Thorne’s whereabouts. I need to know where she is now.” In less than ten minutes, the private detective sent Maya Thorne’s location: the city’s largest amusement park. I changed into clothes suitable for movement, put on sunglasses and a mask, and drove straight to the amusement park. Soon, I found Adam Lannister and Leo. Maya Thorne was also with them. Upon seeing Maya Thorne, Leo immediately rushed excitedly into her arms. Maya Thorne affectionately hugged Leo, kissing him on the cheek. “Leo, do you miss Maya-Mommy?” Maya Thorne asked gently. Leo nodded happily, “Yes!” Hidden in the shadows, I listened to the conversation between the three of them through the wiretap, my heart aching. “Leo, tell Mommy, do you like Maya-Mommy, or do you like your current mom?” Maya Thorne asked Leo while Adam went to buy ice cream. I was also very curious about the answer to that question. Leo hesitated for a moment, then whispered, “I like Maya-Mommy…” My heart plunged. “Maya-Mommy, I’m going to tell you a secret, don’t tell Dad.” Maya Thorne paused, then nodded, “Okay, I won’t tell her.” Leo leaned in close to Maya Thorne’s ear and whispered, “Actually… I kinda hate my current mom.” “Why?” “Because my current mom is so mean. She always forces me to study, and won’t let me eat candy, or play games… She’s like the old witch in the comics, so annoying, so annoying.” So that’s the image I had in Leo’s mind. Maya Thorne stroked his head, saying softly, “That’s because your current mom doesn’t love you. Only Maya-Mommy loves you the most.” “Really?” Leo looked up and asked. “Of course, it’s true,” Maya Thorne affirmed with a nod. “Maya-Mommy will buy you lots and lots of candy, and play lots and lots of games with you, and won’t force you to learn things you don’t like.” But if she truly loved the child, why would she use the child’s health to gain status? That kind of maternal love was too shallow. 6. Adam returned, and Maya Thorne, smiling sweetly, took two steps closer, reaching out to link her arm through Adam’s, but he subtly dodged her. “Adam, are you still angry with me?” Maya Thorne wasn’t annoyed; instead, she pressed even closer, almost clinging to Adam. Adam subtly retreated, maintaining his distance: “Maya, I hope you understand that Leo is now Jenny’s and my child. I don’t want him to be fed incorrect ideas, nor do I want you to mistakenly believe you can replace Jenny as my wife.” “I know, I know.” Maya Thorne agreed with her mouth, but her hand restlessly caressed Adam’s chest, her voice seductive. “But, he is my child after all…” Adam caught her wandering hand, his eyes cold: “Maya, don’t forget you abandoned him at the orphanage. If my mother hadn’t found him, he’d be suffering somewhere right now.” “Who told you not to acknowledge us back then? Did you expect a twenty-year-old unmarried woman to run around with a child? What would people think of me?” “That was your own doing! If you hadn’t snuck into my room during the chaos, things wouldn’t have turned out this way!” Maya Thorne cooed, “I know I was wrong, Adam, don’t be angry.” As she spoke, she pressed herself against him, her hot lips against his earlobe, her breath like a delicate orchid: “Your old hen at home can’t lay eggs. If it weren’t for me, you might not even have your own biological child now.” “Are you truly willing to give the vast Lannister fortune to an outsider with no blood ties?” “Hmm? And do you really hate me that much? Your body is more honest than you are, Adam…” Adam’s body visibly stiffened, his breathing becoming ragged. “Which hotel are we going to next?” I didn’t want to hear the rest. I stumbled back to the car, my hands trembling as I tossed the wiretap aside. Disgusting, utterly disgusting. I had finally understood. It turned out that in our third year of marriage, Maya Thorne had taken advantage of Adam’s drunken state and climbed into his bed. She had intended to seize the opportunity to move up in status, but even after she became pregnant, Adam refused to acknowledge her, offering her money to terminate the pregnancy. But Maya Thorne, unexpectedly, didn’t. After giving birth to Leo and abandoning him at an orphanage, she went abroad to enjoy herself. Later, when I couldn’t conceive, Adam’s mother, in her anxiety, somehow found Leo. To prevent his biological son from suffering outside, Adam brought Leo home as an adopted child. And two years ago, when Maya Thorne returned to the country, Adam had another family. This was a fact known to everyone in the Lannister family; I was the only one who didn’t know. They truly played me for a fool! Just as I was on the verge of breaking down, I heard the long-absent system voice. “Beep—” A mechanical female voice, cold and devoid of emotion: “Detecting host’s emotions nearing collapse. Does host wish to leave current world?” After the mission was successfully completed, the system asked if I wanted to leave this world, and I refused. I hadn’t expected her to still be here after all these years. I looked up blankly, seeing the familiar light screen, displaying Adam Lannister’s name, and below it, a vivid red “90.” That was Adam Lannister’s favorability rating for me. Even now, his favorability towards me was still so high. It turned out he could truly love me while simultaneously indulging in affairs with other women. I gave a bitter smile, wiping away a tear, my voice hoarse: “Yes, I want to leave here.” 7. “Host, are you sure you want to leave? Upon leaving, the host will lose all memories of this world.” I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. “Yes, I’m sure.” I no longer wanted to remember these painful memories. I only wanted to return to my own world and start anew. This time, I wouldn’t hesitate. “Alright, Host. Memory erasure sequence initiated. Within two months, your bodily organs will slowly decline, leading to complete death.” Only two months until I die. In that moment, I suddenly wondered what expressions Adam Lannister and Leo would wear if I died. But I quickly dismissed the thought. I found that all the heartbreaking emotions I had previously felt—the urge to confront Adam about why he did this to me, why he let another woman bear his child, why he kept me in the dark for so many years—were completely gone. I asked the system, “Why don’t I feel any pain anymore?” The system’s cold voice echoed in my mind: “The process of bodily decay will be extremely painful. Out of humanitarian consideration, I will suppress your pain sensation as well.” I was very grateful for this system mechanism. Because of it, when I learned that Adam Lannister and Leo had been in a car accident, I didn’t waste any emotion on them. When I arrived at the hospital, Adam Lannister was in emergency surgery. The doctor said that in the final moments, Adam had shielded Leo with his body, suffering severe injuries himself. Leo’s small body was curled in Maya Thorne’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably, tears and snot smearing his face, looking utterly pitiful. Adam’s mother rushed to the emergency room door and saw this very scene. She walked forward with a pang of heartache, gently stroking Leo’s hair, asking with concern, “Is Leo alright?” Maya Thorne shook her head, her voice choked: “Madam, Leo is fine, but the doctor just ran some tests on me, and said…” Adam’s mother’s heart jumped into her throat, and she asked nervously, “Tests? What tests? What did the doctor say?” Maya Thorne bit her lip, as if gathering courage, then slowly said, “The doctor said… I’m pregnant.” Adam’s mother froze, and it took her a while to react, asking incredulously, “You… what did you say?” A shy blush spread across Maya Thorne’s face, and she nodded gently: “It’s true, Madam, I’m pregnant. It’s… it’s Leo’s little brother or sister.” Adam’s mother’s face instantly lit up with joy, and she clasped Maya Thorne’s hand, exclaiming excitedly, “Good, good, good! This is truly wonderful! This is absolutely wonderful!” “Our Lannister family finally has a new addition!” She was giddy with happiness, but her smile froze when she saw my emotionless eyes. I quietly watched them, my heart completely undisturbed, as if they were performing a play that had nothing to do with me. The system was right; I felt no pain now, not even heartache. I just found it laughable, incredibly laughable. When Adam Lannister woke up, it was half a month later. During this time, Maya Thorne had effortlessly moved into the Lannister family home. Including me, everyone in the Lannister family accepted it calmly. A wealthy family, keeping a mistress was quite normal. And I couldn’t have children, so what right did I have to cause a scene? Only Adam Lannister was not calm. I sat by his bed, idly peeling an apple. Adam hesitated for a moment, then cautiously took my hand. After a long silence, he spoke with difficulty, “Jenny, even though Maya is truly pregnant.” “But it’s okay. I’ll make her abort the child.” “Leo’s birth was an accident, but I won’t let accidents happen again. You have to believe me, I’ve always only loved you.” “Leo’s mother will also only be you.” Adam Lannister’s mouth moved, opening and closing. I looked at him, and he just seemed like a stranger. “It’s fine,” I said. Adam Lannister froze.

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To ensure the heroine’s successful conquest, the System faked my death. I woke up six years later. Penniless, I stood on the street, the hero and heroine already living a blissful life. I’d just escaped a fire, so disheveled I’d lost a shoe. Feeling a bit lost, I messaged Henry Darcy. “…Could you pick me up?” The call came back quickly. But it wasn’t Henry speaking. A child’s voice, after a moment of silence, spoke with forced aloofness: “Oh, another one pretending to be my mom.” 1 He still came though. A kind passerby had told him my location. The breathing on the other end of the line hitched. The soft voice, however, hung up decisively. “Be there soon.” Returning the borrowed phone to the passerby, I silently thanked them. A fever in my youth had damaged my vocal cords, and ever since, I couldn’t speak. Soon enough, a car pulled up in front of me. A little boy jumped out, his legs kicking. When he saw my face, his eyes flickered. He kept a poker face, silently assessing me for a moment. His gaze fell on my shoeless foot. Disheveled, dirty, covered in soot. Because I had just escaped a fire. I’d woken up to find myself six years in the future. My fingers curled, and I belatedly felt a pang of embarrassment. But I pretended not to care, signing: “I didn’t mean to bother you.” “Could I borrow some money? I’ll leave right away.” Six years had passed; the hero and heroine were already living happily ever after. Even my own child now called someone else ‘Mom’. Mid-sentence, I remembered Alan Darcy couldn’t understand sign language. I borrowed the driver’s phone, about to type, but Alan, looking rather unhappy, pulled me into the car. It was rush hour, and I thought he was upset because of the impatient honking from the cars behind us. He turned his head, staring out the window, saying nothing. So I handed him the phone. Alan, his small face serious, asked me: “How much money do you want?” I typed: “One thousand dollars.” Alan stared at the three words for a moment, then, a little unsure, said: “Ten million?” My vision went black. My eyes widened in disbelief, and I quickly waved my hands. Alan pursed his lips, his voice childish: “Not enough?” “I don’t have that much money, I’ll ask Dad to give it to you when we get home.” I tapped furiously on the phone screen. But he pushed the phone away, his tender voice muffled: “Too many words I don’t know, I can’t read it.” How many words could a six-year-old really know? Just moments ago, he understood complex words like “borrow money,” but now he couldn’t distinguish between “thousand” and “million.” I sighed in frustration. Looking down, I noticed Alan’s shoes were on the wrong feet, and his socks were mismatched. Was he too rushed to leave? I bit my lip, feeling a little sad, and pointed, wanting to remind him. But he seemed to misunderstand, tilting his head and asking: “You want to hold hands?” He frowned, looking conflicted, but still extended his hand. “Fine, I guess I can let you hold my hand for a bit.” 2 Henry used to be just like that when he was little. Back then, I lived in his house. At first, everyone looked down on me, the quiet, mute kid. He had been kidnapped as a child, and both his parents died in that incident. Old Man Darcy, worried about his trauma, let him choose playmates from all over the city. And Henry, among a group of chattering peers, chose me – clumsy and slow. With that, my family, the Chen family, rose in status. Later, I found out Henry chose me that day because I was the quietest, not noisy. Years passed, and I lived inconspicuously in the Darcy household. Then, one stormy night, thunder woke me. Then I heard a knock on the door. Opening it, Henry stood there, clutching a blanket, his face serious, saying each word carefully: “You’re afraid of thunder?” I looked bewildered, about to shake my head. But he pressed down on my head, saying awkwardly: “Got it. Then I guess I’ll reluctantly keep you company tonight.” …So silly. Did he really think I couldn’t tell he was scared himself? Those who crave love often struggle to receive it. Just as I, as a child yearning for a mother’s love, never received a single moment of her favoritism. The only time she ever praised me was on the night Henry chose me. So, Henry, who wasn’t truly mine, was destined to be separated from me. Six years ago, before that fire, the heroine, Scarlett Kingston, showed me her future with Henry. It turned out I was just a villainess, an accident—a one-night stand with the hero, secretly giving birth to his child, and then using that to extort a huge fortune. In that future, I died in a fire. After my death, Scarlett redeemed the hero, and they lived happily ever after years later. Even my child recognized someone else as his new mom. After seeing it, I felt a little lost. Was I really that bad in someone else’s story? Later, I actually found myself trapped in a fire. I only managed to pass my child through a narrow gap before the engulfing flames completely blocked me inside. I choked on the smoke, and when I opened my eyes again, I was in the present, six years later. I am mute. I can’t say pleasant words, nor harsh ones. I can’t even win an argument. If I hadn’t been truly desperate, my mind only recalling Henry’s phone number, I think we would never have met again. But now I regret it a little. I hadn’t intended to return to the Darcy house. In my mind, Henry would unhesitatingly give me money and send me away. After all, in his eyes, that chaotic night was a scheme orchestrated by me and the Chen family. But things seemed to have gone awry. I suddenly felt like I was sitting on pins and needles, wanting to say I didn’t want the money, I wanted to get out of the car. But Alan pushed the phone away, saying he couldn’t read, and the driver remained focused on the road ahead. So I could only watch helplessly as the car drove into the Darcy family’s underground garage. 3 To my relief, Henry wasn’t home. The driver explained he’d gone abroad for a business deal that morning and wouldn’t be back until next week. My phone was accidentally smashed in the fire. After swapping the SIM card into a new phone, a torrent of messages flooded in the moment I powered it on. The screen even lagged for a second. I was startled. A carrier message showed my phone account had been topped up with a huge sum. Most of the missed calls and unread messages were from the same familiar number. I bit my lip and opened them. Scrolling from top to bottom. “Arden Chen, you slept with me and then ran off?” “I’m not angry, come out, stop hiding.” This timeline would have been the months after my family, the Chen family, dragged me back and kept me locked in the attic, forcing me to secretly give birth to the child. My phone was confiscated then, and I was cut off from everyone. “…They said you died, I didn’t believe it.” “The Chen family traded the child for those plots of land on the east side of the city. I gave them what they wanted.” “How much do I have to give for you to reappear?” “The child looks a lot like you.” “Today someone impersonated you to scam Alan out of two hundred dollars.” “Idiot, if you don’t show up soon, your son will be scammed.” … The last message was from two years ago. “If you see this, call me.” After that, silence. I thought, perhaps this was when Scarlett successfully “redeemed” Henry. So Henry finally gave up on messaging me. I lowered my gaze, a dull ache in my chest, almost suffocating, though I couldn’t pinpoint why. I actually saw it. Standing on the street, waiting for Alan to arrive, I saw the advertisement on the giant screen at the mall. I stared up blankly then, seeing Scarlett endorsing a brand under Darcy Enterprises. Tears inexplicably fell. No matter how much I wiped, they wouldn’t stop. It turned out that no one truly couldn’t live without another. Now they were happy; my appearance would only be a disruption. Just then, as I was about to leave, Alan happened to appear before me. And by some twist of fate, I ended up in the car, back at the Darcy house. I checked my card balance. I didn’t know if the Chen family simply didn’t care for my meager savings or truly didn’t care about me. After my “death” six years ago, they hadn’t even closed my account. With the reassuring balance in my pocket, I planned to transfer money for the phone and clothes to the Darcy family’s housekeeper to pass on. Then I would leave. …Since everyone was happy, there was no need to disturb them anymore. As I pushed open the door. Alan, standing outside the door, instinctively stepped back, startled by me. He raised his chin, asking in a childish voice, feigning nonchalance: “Where are you going?” I had already downloaded a translation app in the room, typed out my message, and played it aloud. “Thank you, I’m leaving now.” Time is a truly wondrous thing. An infant who was wailing in my arms just a few hours ago could now skip and jump around. His eyes widened slightly, then suddenly reddened. He clutched my hand, panicked and frantic, shouting: “No! You still owe me money, you can’t leave!” All his previous forced coolness was gone. I knelt down, meeting his gaze. Very carefully, very gently, I stroked his soft black hair. I had seen that future. In that future, everyone was happy. Alan had a perfect mother, growing up safe and joyful. He wouldn’t have a manipulative maternal grandfather, nor a mute, unlikable mother. I pressed play, and the calm, robotic voice echoed in the hallway. “I’ll transfer the money for the phone to you.” Alan stared at me, stubbornly clutching my hand, refusing to let go, crying uncontrollably, shaking his head and saying: “Not that.” “You messaged me, asking me to transfer two hundred dollars.” “I secretly ran off after school that day, and waited for you on the bridge for a long time.” “You lied to me, you didn’t come.” His somewhat jumbled words still reminded me of Henry’s text message, mentioning someone impersonating me to scam Alan out of two hundred dollars. My eyes felt a little sore. I wiped away the tears from Alan’s soft cheeks with my hand. It wouldn’t be good if Scarlett came back and saw this. She was Alan’s beloved new mom; I absolutely didn’t want any friction between them because of me. Perhaps later she and Henry would have their own children, and she would have her own favorites, but the first one would always be special. I didn’t want her to see Alan with annoyance or disgust because of me in the future. I wanted to leave before Scarlett returned. As I turned around, Alan sprang forward and wrapped his arms around one of my legs. I swallowed the bitterness in my heart, looking down helplessly at Alan, who was clinging to me, but then heard a rustling sound ahead. I looked up, instinctively. And met a pair of dark eyes. In the long corridor, someone stood, travel-worn, at the end of the stairs, his trench coat soaked from the heavy rain, his voice hoarse. Henry said: “…Arden Chen.” “How can you bully a child?” 4 I don’t know when the rain outside the window started to fall. But I hurriedly pried Alan’s hands off me, then anxiously peered behind Henry. I didn’t see anyone else. Only then did I breathe a sigh of relief. Alan clung to me again, still hugging my leg, shouting at Henry: “Dad, quickly give Mom ten million dollars.” “If you give it to her, she won’t leave.” Me: “…?” Meeting Henry’s subtle gaze, I pursed my lips, unable to resist raising my hands to argue: “I didn’t.” “I only wanted to borrow a thousand dollars. Alan doesn’t know sign language or how to read, he misunderstood.” I signed quickly, afraid he would misunderstand. Henry clearly understood, but his expression paused, then he let out a vague chuckle, saying cryptically: “Alan doesn’t understand sign language?” I felt the small hands clutching my pant leg suddenly tighten. But Henry quickly brushed over the topic, telling the playfully demanding Alan to go back to his room. Alan glared at him angrily: “Why?” “I’m the one who brought Mom back.” “And Mom even texted and called me, she came back because of me!” He even boasted while arguing. Henry lowered his eyes, watched him for a moment, then sneered: “If you hadn’t secretly swapped my phone’s SIM card again, would it have been your turn to pick her up?” He tried to pull Alan away, but couldn’t. “How about this, you ask her yourself if she wants you to go back to your room.” The next moment, both their gazes landed on me simultaneously. My scalp tingled. I instinctively averted my eyes, hesitating for a moment: “…Maybe I should just leave?” Henry turned his head, plainly lying to Alan: “See, she said it’s late now, and you should go back to your room obediently to sleep.” “You’re lying! Clearly—” Henry interrupted him: “A child who can’t understand sign language shouldn’t guess.” At these words, Alan’s voice ceased. He pouted, looking at me pitifully, but ultimately said nothing. Henry seemed to sense Alan’s reluctance. He pulled me into the study, telling me concisely: “This stubborn kid won’t give up.” “Can you wait for me here for a moment?” Then, he knelt in front of Alan, seemingly whispering something. Alan immediately quieted down, glancing at me hesitantly, then obediently let Henry lead him away. Silence immediately descended. I came back to myself, hearing the patter of rain from the half-open French window in the study. The wind was strong, whipping the sheer curtains outward, and even the papers on the desk rustled loudly. Worried the rain would blow in and dampen the documents in the study, I walked over and closed the window. But as I turned, I knocked a book off the shelf. From its flyleaf fell a ten-dollar bill with a torn corner. 5 Seeing that familiar ten-dollar bill, I froze. I felt as if I were back in that summer. By then, Henry was no longer as distant as he had been when we first met. At some point, he had secretly learned sign language behind my back. I even clearly remembered the first time he clumsily signed “Got it” to me. His expression was still aloof and unhurried. But he still argued: “It takes too much of my time waiting for you to write it down for me to see.” I curved my eyes, just about to answer him “Thank you.” But the door was suddenly flung open. “Why does Henry Darcy always wear that cold expression? Who’s it for?” “A parentless brat, just throwing his weight around because of his family background, otherwise who would bother to flatter him!” “Once Old Man Darcy dies, I’d like to see if he can still be so arrogant!” Henry’s expression remained calm, until he heard “Old Man Darcy,” then his face hardened, his lips tightening. The man seemed completely oblivious to Henry and me, hidden behind layers of boxes in the corner. I remembered that voice; it was the youngest son of the Monroe family, Mason. It was Old Man Darcy’s birthday banquet today, and earlier, Mason Monroe had proposed a toast to Henry, which Henry didn’t drink. Instead, he swapped it for a glass of water, clinked glasses, and took a small sip. Mason’s face looked very unpleasant before he left, so that was the reason. But from my observation, Henry hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol, even when toasting Old Man Darcy, it was water. So Henry wasn’t just targeting him alone. He was indiscriminately targeting everyone. Everyone knew Henry, due to his childhood kidnapping, was usually cold-faced and spoke little, so they were used to it. I didn’t know how it became “wearing a cold expression” in his eyes. But after he finished scolding Henry, he started scolding me. “That mute girl from the Chen family, too, can never be pinned down, avoids me like the plague.” “Just a pathetic mute, does she really think she’s climbed up the social ladder by hooking up with the Darcys?” I felt Henry lower his head, his gaze lingering on my face for a moment. I subtly turned my head, feeling strangely nervous, my face tense, lips pressed together. The people around Mason tried to calm him down, giving him ideas. For instance, deliberately spilling wine on me later, bribing the waiters to put mustard in Henry’s water to make him embarrass himself publicly, and so on. After Mason finally vented his anger and left, Henry slowly emerged from the shadows in the corner. Then he turned into the kitchen. He rummaged around, looking rather dissatisfied. It was strange, but I just knew he was looking for mustard. I walked past him and found a bunch of chili peppers in the corner of the prep area. Then I signed, asking him: “No mustard.” “These chili peppers are very spicy. Chili water, would that work?” Henry lowered his eyelids to look at me, took the chili peppers, and lazily uttered a “Hmm.” He summoned two waiters, gave them a few low-voiced instructions, then took me to the railing on the second floor. That was probably the most lively scene of the night. Mason, while toasting with the elders, suddenly spat everything out with a “Pffft,” knocking over a champagne tower beside him and getting drenched in wine. The Monroe elders were embarrassed, apologizing and publicly scolding him, dressing him down mercilessly. In his utter humiliation, Mason instinctively looked up and finally saw us, watching the entire spectacle from the second-floor railing. Henry lightly tilted his head, raised an eyebrow, and held up his glass of water, toasting from afar. He mouthed, word for word: “This is what it means to throw your weight around.” The petty squabbles among the younger generation naturally didn’t escape Old Man Darcy’s notice. Henry could be reckless, but I couldn’t. Perhaps at Old Man Darcy’s instruction, my mother, who had left me to live with the Darcys for years, uncharacteristically asked me to go home with her that night. As the birthday banquet was about to end, I hesitated, then apologized to Henry: “I’m sorry, I might not be able to come to the Darcy house to keep you company anymore.” My mother’s expression had been grim just now, and I thought Old Man Darcy might have sent me home. Henry clearly understood the underlying implications. He said nonchalantly: “If you don’t want to go back, then don’t. No one here is kicking you out.” Seeing me still looking dejected, he pulled me into the surveillance room and showed me the kitchen and corridor footage. Only then did I realize that the surveillance footage of our earlier mischievous acts had already been replaced. He copied the segment of Mason’s cursing and plotting onto a USB drive, then gestured for me to extend my hand. “If he bothers you again, you just throw this footage in his face.” He paused, then said: “Stay with me until ten o’clock.” “Believe it or not, even if the Chen family’s car leaves, no one will dare to kick you out tonight.” Henry stayed with me on the rooftop, letting mosquitoes feast on us until ten o’clock. I saw the Chen family’s car indeed leave, and my mother even gave me a gentle, gratified smile before she left. I was overwhelmed. I was very grateful to Henry. I felt our relationship had somehow changed. Even though helping me was just a side thought, he solved my problems and stayed with me on the rooftop, enduring mosquito bites. Only friends would do such things. So I signed, unable to resist asking: “Are we friends now?” “No.” Was it that hard to be Henry’s friend? I felt a little disappointed but not too sad. After all, Henry was always aloof and hard to please. If it didn’t work this time, I would just try harder next time. But the next moment, I heard Henry slowly say: “It’s a more closely knit, unbreakable relationship of co-conspirators.” My eyes widened slightly. I stared at him blankly, inexplicably feeling that this relationship he spoke of seemed even more important than mere casual friendship. He spoke abruptly, his voice scattering into the wind: “Do you have any money on you?” I rummaged for a long time, finally finding only a crumpled, corner-torn ten-dollar bill on me. Henry calmly accepted it. The shadow cast on the ground by the moonlight tilted towards me. “Now, I owe you ten dollars; you are my creditor.” “So, from now on, if you encounter trouble, or if there’s something you don’t want to do, or someone you don’t want to see, you can come to me to collect your debt, understand?” Seeing me lost in thought, Henry surprisingly didn’t get angry but patiently repeated: “Did you remember?” I nodded eagerly, promising him: “Don’t worry, I’ll never forget it as long as I live.” Perhaps it was after a few more similar exhortations like that night. From being cautious at first, I gradually began to “collect debt” from Henry over small matters. When encountering difficulties, I no longer silently bore them alone. Instead, he had trained me to instinctively reach out to him. So much so that when I was engulfed in the fire, and then opened my eyes to find myself six years in the future— I stood on a bustling street, looking at the unfamiliar world, my mind a blank, filled only with panic. Yet, even then, I never thought of contacting my mother or returning to the Chen family. Instead, I instinctively borrowed a stranger’s phone. Then I sent Henry a message: “This is Arden Chen.” I immediately typed the second half, sending it without hesitation. “…Can you come pick me up?”

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1 The blood pact I signed seven years ago finally expired today. Wilson Wilder and I would soon become complete strangers. She was probably still recalling my past fits of rage when I caught her cheating—smashing things, screaming, raising hell. But she didn’t know, everything was different now. When I suddenly came home, I walked in on Wilson Wilder having sex with another man in my car. This time, she made no attempt to hide it. Instead, she rolled down the window, leaned out, and gently covered the man behind her with a wool blanket. From the back seat, I heard the rustle of clothes. She shielded the man even more carefully, then turned back to whisper, “Don’t be scared.” Then she looked at me, a flicker of unease in her eyes, and asked, “Weren’t you supposed to be at your MBA class today? Why the sudden return?” … I yanked open the car door. The back seat was a mess: ripped black stockings, used condoms. A wave of nausea hit me. I gagged uncontrollably. “Why bring someone into this car?” Wilson Wilder calmly buttoned her shirt. She glanced at my car. “It was the most convenient place. Didn’t think much of it.” “Couldn’t exactly bring him home, could I, darling?” The man in the car scrambled out, stumbling pitifully in front of me. “Mr. Wilder, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t control myself…” I stood there, arms crossed, unmoving. “Get out.” I wouldn’t lift a finger for her anymore. But that didn’t mean I’d be kind to the man who’d slept with my wife. Even if she wouldn’t be for much longer. As he ran off, I gave him a dismissive glance. Early twenties, clean-cut college kid. Her type. Clean background, simple life, high achiever. Everything I wasn’t. Which one was this? I stopped counting years ago. I called my butler: “To the garage. Smash the car.” Old Thomas smashed it with restraint. His hammer, wrapped in suede, landed with a dull thud, like bone breaking within flesh. Then came the sharp crack of shattering glass. Wilson Wilder got out of the car, pulled me into her embrace, and gently ruffled my hair. Like soothing an agitated cat. I pulled away, leaned against the wall, and lit a cigarette. Didn’t smoke it. In the flickering light of the cigarette, the obsidian Bentley became a heap of scrap. She followed me inside. Her hand circled my waist. “Julian, don’t be mad. I’ll get you a new car?” “My husband didn’t hit anyone. That’s progress.” She pinched my cheek, a hint of surprise in her tone. “Just play nice, and no one can threaten your position.” “It’s your birthday today. Seven years you’ve been with me in Kingsport.” She magically produced a gift box. Hermès, rare leather. I wasn’t surprised. Inside the bag, however, lay a “Python” revolver. Out of instinct, I released the cylinder, pulled back the hammer, and checked the chamber. Empty. I paused, bringing the gun to my nose. No gun oil smell, just an industrial scent. Fake. I tossed the gun back into the bag, my eyes hardening completely. She lay back on the sofa, hands behind her head. “It’s just a toy, a memento of your past. Be good from now on, no more playing with weapons.” Her tone was light. The glory my past had brought her, dismissed in a single breath. Seven years. My heart had long turned to ash. I pulled out the drafted divorce papers. “Wilson Wilder, sign it.” “From now on, we go our separate ways.” A fleeting, almost imperceptible panic crossed her eyes. Then she smiled, more relaxed. “Julian, we can’t be separated in this life. Have you forgotten?” “I shouldn’t have done it in your car. Don’t say things you don’t mean.” She hugged me from behind, her cheek rubbing my forehead. “I’ve got a birthday surprise for you. Let’s go out.” She tried to take my hand. I sidestepped, avoiding her touch. She seemed to have forgotten. Back then, she was just a small-time dealer. Wanting to start her own business, she refused my money, then turned around and stole goods from my sister’s rival. “Mad Dog” Hayes put out the word. One of her hands, and the debt would be clear. Or, the Wilder family could sign a blood pact. My sister refused. I bit my finger, pressing my blood print onto that pact. By gang rules, she and I could never be separated in this life. A pact that compromised the Wilder family’s reputation and dignity, binding her and me together. Until this morning, when Mad Dog Hayes dropped dead in a brothel. As I changed, I sent that text. “Sis, pick me up in Avalon in two days.” 2 To avoid complications, my sister and I agreed to keep everything as usual before I left. In the living room, Wilson Wilder took off the shirt still carrying the scent of another man. On her pale, slender body, the dark scar of a gunshot wound on her right shoulder. Like a cigarette burn on snow. My first year in Kingsport, my enemies from Avalon came seeking revenge. She took that bullet for me. When did the woman who’d risked her life for me begin to change? I couldn’t fathom it, and I no longer cared to try. Silently, I got into her car. My thoughts drifted back seven years. Hayes’s stronghold. Mad Dog Hayes put away the pact. “Gutsy. This matter is forgotten.” He smiled at my sister, revealing a mouth full of yellow teeth. “Your brother is bound to that lowlife who stole my goods for life. He’s not allowed back in Avalon, not allowed to touch a single cent of your Wilder family money.” “The streets are watching, see what kind of trash Eleanor Wilder’s only kin ended up with!” That year, the woman I loved to my core wept before me. She trembled all over, yet clutched my hand tightly. She swore I would never regret this decision. But now… “Darling, we’re here.” The car stopped at Kingsport Maternity Hospital. Outside the patient room, she whispered, “Be gracious in a moment.” I had already guessed nine tenths of it. But seeing the tiny pink bundle in the man’s arms, my heart still skipped a beat. Adam Schwarz. Her personal assistant. Long-term lover. “Julian, I didn’t want to have a child with another man either.” Her voice was very low. “You can’t have children. I don’t blame you. But I need an heir.” “The child will call you Dad too. When you’re old, he’ll be someone to rely on.” Adam Schwarz nodded, full of agreement. “Brother, Wilson has always wanted a child. You should let her have this.” Mr. Schwarz, Adam’s father, walked in to check on the baby. He was a renowned obstetrician. He held up a miniature Hermès horse toy, teasing the infant in a falsetto voice. Wilson Wilder and Adam Schwarz leaned in, heads together, laughing around their son. I laughed out loud. “Poor folks sure know how to make every penny count, treating designer accessories like treasure.” Adam Schwarz caught sight of the rare leather bag in my hand, and his face darkened. Mr. Schwarz, however, remained calm and composed. “Mr. Wilder, I know you were a gangster in Avalon. But this is Kingsport; please show some class.” I couldn’t be bothered with him. He thought I was tacitly accepting his paternalistic tone. “It’s understandable you’re ill-mannered, with both your parents gone.” Parents gone. A damp, rainy day. Wilson Wilder deliberately avoided my gaze, playing with her son’s chubby little hands. I raised my hand and slapped Mr. Schwarz across the face. As he shrieked, I displayed the diamond ring on my ring finger: “As long as I’m still married, your son is still the side piece. Your grandson will always be a bastard.” “You, the side piece’s dad, are not fit to speak of my parents.” Adam Schwarz wailed, clutching his father. Wilson Wilder symbolically pulled me towards the door. Words she had spoken six years ago surfaced. “Julian, you have no mother, no father; you only have me.” Barely a year into our marriage, she began cheating. I was inherently proud; I couldn’t swallow the humiliation. I was hysterical. But I had nowhere to go. With that sentence, she made me face reality. Now, it was uttered again from my “father-in-law’s” mouth. A gust of wind from behind. My scalp prickled with pain. Adam Schwarz rushed forward, grabbing my hair and yanking it back forcefully. He held me, shoving me violently towards the corner of the table. “Bang!” My hip slammed against the table’s edge, clenching my insides with pain. Wilson Wilder instinctively leaned forward, wanting to help me. But Adam Schwarz grabbed her arm, fiercely blocking her. “Don’t you dare go!” Wilson Wilder didn’t step forward. Good. I smiled to myself. Anyway, we were ending this. 3 I had a dream of falling endlessly. I dreamt of being nineteen. I told her that when I was fifteen, I took a knife for my sister from some enemies, the blade piercing my back. I lay in the hospital for half a year. When I got out, my studies were completely ruined, so I dropped out. She trembled as she kissed the snake-like scars on my body. She saved her meal money, running all over the city’s bookstores to pick out textbooks for me. In the dim yellow light of our rented room, she held me, teaching me word by word from books I no longer understood. She said I was hers. Inside and out, for life. I dreamt of being twenty-one, on her birthday. I learned from the elders back home, and personally made her a nourishing chicken and fish maw soup. Her office door wasn’t fully closed. Soft moans drifted out. I kicked the door open. Wilson Wilder was naked, her long hair swaying. Adam Schwarz was behind her. The chicken soup splattered over both of them. Wilson Wilder was unfazed, helping him wipe off the traces. “Work stress, darling. You understand.” I smashed the office to pieces. She didn’t even blink. But when I picked up a glass shard and walked towards Adam Schwarz. She shielded him. “Anything, come at me. Adam and those other men are different.” Young and hot-headed, I severely beat Adam Schwarz with my bare hands. The Schwarz family threatened to sue me; she used every means, soft and hard, to suppress it. The cost was her not coming home for a year. “Julian, you disappoint me so much.” Her betrayal had been foreshadowed. She said I didn’t understand her as those other men did. She stopped teaching me long ago, pulling strings to enroll me in an MBA program. I didn’t understand those coding algorithms, those capital models. But I once believed so deeply. I understood the weight of two hearts relying on each other. I understood how to bet on a woman before she made her fortune. My biological father died at a card table. Turns out I was just another gambler with poor luck. … “Sir.” Thomas’s voice pulled me back. He was covered in wounds. My phone was handed to me. 【WilderTech to be renamed SchwarzTech tomorrow】 【Wilson Wilder convenes board meeting to transfer 10% shares to Adam Schwarz】 I had trusted her, only holding 8%. She ensured Adam Schwarz always outranked me. Thomas pulled out a crumpled invitation. Tonight’s gala, official announcement of the change. I quickly bandaged his wounds. Some matters needed to be settled before I left. “Thomas, the Wilder family has a saying.” Old Thomas smiled at me. “Today she eats the bitter fish and endures the thirst. Tomorrow, someone else will settle the score with her.” 4 I drove straight to the banquet hall. No one dared to stop me. Wilson Wilder looked surprised: “Julian, aren’t you supposed to be home recovering?” “Wilson Wilder, you’ve forgotten where you came from. Forgotten who you relied on to make your fortune.” Adam Schwarz linked arms with her, beaming. “What’s wrong with Wilson thinking about her child?” His eyes scanned me with a lewd gaze. “My dad says you’ve taken too many hits, can’t have kids?” Wilson Wilder’s brow furrowed: “Enough!” He’d hit a nerve, and it only emboldened him. “Julian, everyone says you’re the eldest son raised by the Avalon syndicates.” “There’s no deal you can’t close, no woman you can’t conquer.” “Why cling to Wilson?” “Cling to her?” I looked at him. “What was she, starting her business relying on me? What are you, her side piece?” He paused, then beckoned to the media. “Shoot him! He’s a wreck; does he deserve to stand next to Wilson?” A journalist cautiously asked: “He’s Ms. Wilder of Avalon’s only kin.” Adam Schwarz waved his hand: “Who’s the Wilder family? A bunch of nobodies crushed by the Hayes syndicate!” That journalist bowed slightly to me and left. Others didn’t want to offend Adam Schwarz. All the cameras and mics pointed at me. I calmly looked at Wilson Wilder: “I’m selling off my 8% stake.” Her face changed: “Do you know SchwarzTech’s current valuation?” “One hundred and fifty million. B-round funding closed last week.” They exchanged glances. Adam Schwarz waved his hand: “I’ll take it all. Mr. Wilder, you’ll be all alone after this, don’t regret it.” The nanny brought the baby, whose tiny hand waved at the cameras. I instantly saw the strand of sandalwood beads around her neck. My father’s keepsake. Lost when I fled at fifteen. My sister turned Avalon upside down after she made her fortune, but never found it. “Met at a private auction last month,” Wilson Wilder said airily. “Adam liked it, so he wears it for fun.” My father’s only memento to me. In their mouths, it was “for fun.” “Give it back to me.” Every word was gritted through my teeth. “You will pay for this.” Adam Schwarz laughed. He unclasped the beads, dangling them in front of me. Like teasing a dog. “You wore them,” he said, his eyes curving into a sneer. “Not fit for my child to wear.” He let go. Clatter. The beads hit the ground, scattering everywhere. My mind went blank. My hand was already in my bag, pulling out the revolver, pressing it against his forehead. The moment the cold metal touched his skin, he froze. Then tears and snot flowed together, his face crumpling. “You’re crazy!” Wilson Wilder rushed over. “The gun’s fake!” Fake. But his legs were trembling. A yellowish-white liquid streamed down his pants, soaking a small puddle on the ground. The pungent, stale smell hit my nose. I couldn’t hold it in and threw up on him. He screamed. Wilson Wilder pressed a remote. The lights in the entire hall went out. Sudden darkness. I started to tremble. I feared the dark. She knew that. When I was little, my father used to lock me in the closet when he had clients. I’d huddle inside, listening to the laughter and moans from outside. I cried, I screamed, but no one heard. On our wedding night, I told her. She said, “With me, you’ll never be alone in the dark.” Now she’d turned off the lights. Someone gripped my shoulder. Smack. A slap, my right cheek stung. Smack. Another, my left cheek. Adam Schwarz had hit me. I couldn’t see him, but I felt the whoosh of his hand, smelled that stale, pungent scent mixed with perfume. I swallowed the metallic taste in my mouth. “Get out.” Adam Schwarz sneered: “Weren’t you so tough just now?” Wilson Wilder wiped sweat from my brow. She leaned into my ear, her voice very soft. “About what happened back then, I told myself you did it for me. But every time I think of it, I feel sick.” She paused. “In this life, let’s just make each other sick.” I was trembling more and more violently. Not out of fear. It was cold. A cold that seeped from my bones. I wanted to scream. Wanted to fill the entire hall with my screams. But I couldn’t. I started to fall. Back into that closet. The laughter, the moans, surged from all directions. I covered my ears, but the sounds still burrowed in. The person I thought would save me had now personally turned off the lights. She used the thing I feared most to hurt me. The stories I told her had become her knives against me. In the dark, I picked up the scattered beads, one by one. I don’t know how much time passed, then a beam of light cut through the darkness. “Julian.”

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1 Five years ago, when I was an Ivy League scholarship recipient with a bright future, my life utterly collapsed at the age of eighteen. My adoptive sister, Jenny, suddenly developed a bizarre illness: merely touching me – Anna Grey – would trigger terrifying symptoms like festering eyes, bleeding eardrums, and even suffocation. My parents and brother, convinced I carried a unique pathogen causing Jenny’s suffering, sent me to a sterile training camp nestled deep in the mountains. That dark, sunless place became my supposed “atonement.” Meanwhile, Jenny, who scored a mere 200 on her SATs, used my acceptance letter, transforming herself into a popular freshman sensation on campus. Family visits, initially once a month, gradually dwindled to once a year, until I was completely forgotten in the depths of the mountains. It wasn’t until five years later, when Jenny finally announced her allergy was gone, that they remembered I even existed. The day they came to pick me up, my brother subconsciously frowned, and I, like a startled rabbit, knelt down, my face contorted in terror. Tears streamed down uncontrollably. I choked out a trembling plea: “Master, your puppy is clean now, not dirty. Please, Master, take your puppy.” … My brother recoiled a step, inspecting me with a look of disgust: “Alright, enough of the act.” “What, do I need to beg you to come home?” I flinched, not daring to look up. The camp warden immediately sidled over. One hand supported my arm, the other fiercely pinched me behind my back. I trembled with pain but dared not cry out. The warden helped me, dressed in an ill-fitting gown, up from the ground, saying obsequiously to my brother: “Miss Grey is just overwhelmed with joy! Five years without seeing her family, she’s a bit over-excited!” “Mr. Grey, please don’t be offended!” “Miss Grey, please go home with your family.” She leaned close to me, her voice hushed so only I could hear: “Don’t forget all those photos and videos are still in my possession. Remember what you can and cannot say!” My blood ran cold. The nauseating smells, the clammy hands… Filthy memories washed over me like a tide. I leaned on the warden’s strength to stand, not daring to look at anyone. My father impatiently glanced at me: “Five years, and not an ounce of improvement!” “So uncouth, not a patch on Jenny!” My mother walked over and took my hand. I greedily savored that touch of warmth, my eyes stinging. The next second, my mother froze. She gasped, clutching my withered, stick-like wrist: “I send you five hundred dollars a month for food, how can you be so thin?” “Anna, you’re not deliberately starving yourself to gain sympathy, are you?” I opened my mouth, wanting to explain. To tell her that less than fifty dollars a month was spent on me, that the camp food was all rotten. And I only got four hours of sleep a day, the rest of the time spent in training. Training how to be obedient, how to kneel, how to live like a dog. But as I opened my mouth, my father began to rush us: “Alright, alright, let’s go.” “Jenny’s still waiting alone at home.” I dragged my stiff legs, following them. At the door, I couldn’t resist looking back at the place that had imprisoned me for five years. Then I turned back, gazing greedily at the world outside the car window. People were laughing, birds were flying freely. My eyes welled up. My brother scoffed, glancing at me: “Worthless.” I shrank my neck, not daring to look again. The car stopped outside the house I remembered. My mother pushed open the door, her voice laced with laughter: “Jenny, look who’s back!” I stood at the doorway, my heart pounding. My sister, the sister I hadn’t seen in five years. I pursed my lips, trying hard to force a smile. But just as my lips curved upward, a bucket of water poured over my head. The icy water streamed into my nose and mouth. I choked, coughing violently, soaked to the bone, my hair clinging to my face in wet strands. The stinging smell of disinfectant made me want to vomit. I stood frozen, water dripping from my chin. 2 Jenny hid behind Mom and Dad and my brother, her voice soft and full of grievance: “I was just worried Anna might have germs. What if I get an allergic reaction again?” “Anna wouldn’t be mad, would she?” Mom tenderly pulled her into a hug, patting her back soothingly: “Don’t worry, sweetie, Anna would never blame you.” My brother sighed, his voice full of aching concern: “Jenny, we know how much you’ve suffered, we all understand.” I stood there, drenched, a blank stare on my face. Not daring to move, not even daring to breathe loudly. I just kept mumbling, my lips trembling, “I’m sorry! Don’t hit me! I’m sorry! Don’t hit me!” My brother froze for a second, then leaned closer to listen. The next moment, he was stunned. Shock and heartache flashed across his face. Jenny bit her lip fiercely, but quickly reverted to a wronged expression. She peeked out from Mom’s embrace: “Is Anna mad? Is she upset I didn’t come to pick her up earlier?” “Don’t be mad at me, okay? I prepared a surprise for you!” She pointed to the living room, where the dining table was laden with an abundant spread. Mom lovingly stroked her head: “Jenny is so thoughtful, Anna. You should thank your sister.” Dad disgustedly glanced at me: “Alright, stop putting on a show.” “Who in the camp doesn’t know you’re the second Miss Grey? With your status, who’d dare bully you?” He walked into the room, throwing a last remark: “Get up already, stop making a spectacle of yourself at the door.” Mom, holding Jenny, also turned and left. My brother stood there, looked at me, but said nothing. I curled up on the ground, trembling uncontrollably. They would never know what kind of life I lived in that training camp. Live rats were placed on a plate and brought before me. They squeaked and scurried around the plate, their gray-black tails tangled together. At the warden’s command, I had to stuff them into my mouth. Various insects crawled in my bowl. I threw up, then had to continue eating. Any disobedience resulted in a brutal beating. Electric prods sizzled against my body, causing excruciating pain that made my organs bleed. I was thrown into a water cell, immersed for three days and three nights. My wounds turned white and festered, making me forget who I was. I used to be an Ivy League scholarship recipient. At sixteen, my paper won first prize nationally. My teacher patted my shoulder and said: “Anna, you’re a genius; you’ll surely achieve great things someday.” And now I had been trained into a good dog that obeyed commands. I slowly got up, wiping my face hard. I shuffled my feet, walking towards a home where there was no longer a place for me. 3 By the time I came to my senses, I was already sitting at the dining table. Plates of food, exquisitely presented, were laid before me. Jenny sat beside me, smiling sweetly. She extended her hand towards me, wiggling her fingers: “Anna, look, I specially made all these dishes for you.” “My hands are all hurt, it’s so painful.” With that, she giggled and leaned into Mom’s embrace. Mom tenderly cradled her hand, gently blowing on the almost invisible scratches: “Poor baby, you worked so hard. Mom knows you care about Anna the most.” I looked at the table laden with an elaborate seafood boil. I was allergic to every single item. I remembered when I was little, I accidentally ate shrimp once. My throat swelled up, making it hard to breathe, and I nearly didn’t make it through resuscitation. After that, the family never bought seafood again. My brother looked at my dazed face and spoke: “What are you staring at? Eat up, the food will get cold.” Seeing no reaction from me, my brother frowned again and impatiently shouted: “Anna Grey!” I jumped, instantly reflexively standing up: “Yes, sir!” Then, I frantically grabbed a shrimp and stuffed it into my mouth. The shell wasn’t peeled, hard and scratching my throat, but I couldn’t care less. I grabbed another piece of calamari, stuffing it in. Then another crab leg, shoving the whole thing into my mouth. The shell cut the corner of my mouth; blood flowed out, mixing with the food as I swallowed. My brother stood frozen. My mother’s voice also trembled slightly: “Anna, please don’t…” But I couldn’t hear. I only knew I had to eat it all, had to be obedient. Couldn’t leave anything. Couldn’t make them angry. Soon, my throat began to itch, and my skin started to burn. Red rashes broke out all over my body and face. I continued to stuff food into my mouth with one hand, while scratching myself with the other. My fingernails scraped across my skin, leaving trails of blood. My brother’s face was grim; he reached out, wanting to stop me. But when I saw his hand, I was so frightened I immediately knelt on the floor. I raised my hand and slapped myself hard: “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” “I’ll be good! I’ll eat it all! I’ll eat every bit!” I didn’t know what I was saying, only that I had to apologize, had to admit fault. I crawled towards my brother on my knees, my trembling hands reaching to undo my buttons. Exposing my skeletal chest. I grabbed his hand, trying to press it against my chest: “Master, it’s all yours, please don’t hit me anymore!” My brother froze, his face ashen. He tried to pull his hand away, but I gripped it tightly: “Anna Grey, are you crazy? What are you doing!” The next second, a resounding slap struck my face. My head snapped to the side, my cheek burning. Jenny’s eyes were red-rimmed, large tears streaming down: “Anna Grey, have you put on enough of a show?” “Do you just have to act pitiful? Have to make everyone feel sorry for you?” “I was the one who got hurt, I was almost killed by you! Don’t you know that?!” She cried, gasping for breath, pointing her finger at me: “I finally recovered, and you come back and pretend to be crazy to gain sympathy! Are you trying to drive me to my death?” Mom rushed over and hugged her, crying tears of pain: “Don’t cry, Jenny, Mom’s here, no one can bully you.” Dad coldly glanced at me: “You’ve been acting up since you walked in. Are you not content until you’ve turned this house upside down?” “I knew we shouldn’t have brought you back!” I knelt on the floor, my clothes open, my face covered in blood. Just then, the front door was pushed open. A tall figure stood silhouetted against the light in the doorway, holding a large bouquet of white lilies. His voice was laced with a gentle laugh, as soft as a spring breeze: “Anna, I heard you were back. I wanted to come see…” His smile froze. I looked up, meeting his eyes. In that instant, all color drained from my face. 4 My former fiancé, Arthur Miller, stood gravely at the door. The bouquet dropped to the floor, and he took a few steps forward, reaching out to help me up. “Anna, what happened to you…” Jenny, like a butterfly, flung herself into his arms, intimately looping her arm through Arthur Miller’s: “Arthur, you’re here!” She looked back at me, her eyes hiding daggers: “Anna, you might not remember, but this is Arthur, you’ve met him before.” I forced a bitter smile. How could I forget a love so deeply ingrained in my bones? She held onto Arthur Miller, a beaming smile on her face: “Auntie said I’m an Ivy League graduate, and I’m the perfect match for Arthur. They’re arranging our engagement this year!” “You absolutely have to come, Anna!” Arthur Miller frowned, trying to pull her hand away: “What are you talking about? Engagement? I haven’t…” Jenny, seizing the moment, released his hand and feigned helping me up. I kept my head down, not daring to look at him. My brother’s contemptuous gaze swept over me, a cold sneer playing on his lips: “No wonder she’s acting crazy. It’s for this.” “How shameless.” I kept my head bowed, my fingernails digging into my palms. Jenny whispered softly in my ear: “Anna Grey, do you think your used-up body is worthy of Arthur?” “I’ve been by his side for these five years. You want to fight me for him? Do you even have the right?” “I have high-definition backups of all your videos, every frame crystal clear.” “I advise you to be sensible, and just be your useless self.” She patted my arm, her tone light: “Otherwise, I guarantee everyone will get to enjoy your pathetic show!” My tears finally fell. I thought I had finally escaped the hellish life of the past five years. But the devil still clung to me! Jenny let go of me, turning with a triumphant smile: “Arthur, Anna’s too tired. Let her go rest in her room for a bit!” I stood there, watching her joyful retreat. I suddenly raised my hand and ripped open my clothes. Buttons popped, fabric parted. On my emaciated chest, a dense scattering of scars. Cigarette burns, knife slashes, and charred marks left by electric prods. Patch after patch, horrifying to behold. I finally couldn’t hold back a wail: “Why are you doing this to me?” Everyone was stunned. I stared at Jenny, tears streaming down: “Jenny, do you hate me?” “You must hate me, right? Otherwise, why would you let others torture me like this?” I turned to Mom and Dad: “Am I not your child? Why do you only love Jenny and not me?” Mom’s lips trembled. “Brother, what did I do wrong to make you hate me so much?” My brother’s face changed; he took a step forward: “Anna, listen to me…” Dad slammed his hand on the table, pointing at me and yelling: “Look at you! What a spectacle!” “Are you blaming us? What have we ever done to you?” Tears still streaked my face, but I smiled. I retreated step by step, backing towards the window. The window was wide open, blowing my hair. Arthur Miller’s face was ashen: “Anna! Don’t move!” Mom’s legs gave out; she fell to her knees, crying and shouting: “Anna, Mom’s begging you, come down!” “Mom was wrong! Don’t be impulsive, let’s talk this through!” Dad stood still, sneering: “Nobody stop her! Let’s see how far she’ll take this act?” “She won’t jump! If she dared, she wouldn’t have waited until today!” Before his words finished, I leaped. The wind violently rushed upwards, my ears filled with its roar.

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My life was never short of admirers, but none persisted like Nick Singer, who stayed by my side for ten years. This childhood friend, from the first day he brought me flowers that I promptly tossed in the trash, slowly became the only guy consistently in my orbit. Everyone said that presence was the deepest confession, that I’d never find another like Nick Singer. Just as I finally decided to accept him, I saw an identical bouquet of white lilies—the same kind he’d given me—on my sister Maya’s bedside table. In that moment, I froze. 1 The next day at Northwood High, Nick Singer brought me a red rose. I frowned, not even glancing at it, and tossed it straight into the trash. Nick flinched, but didn’t get upset, just smiled and leaned in: “What’s wrong? Did I do something?” From age seven to seventeen, no matter how much I lashed out at Nick, he always indulged me like this. The worst time was when I accidentally shattered his late mother’s treasured locket. My eyes red, I wanted to apologize. But Nick simply asked if my hand was hurt. Even though later, he’d hide and cry alone. Perhaps it was just a coincidence. I turned my head, muttering, “The white lilies you gave me yesterday, why does my sister have the same ones?” Nick chuckled, “Nothing to do with me. I know you can’t stand her, so I’ve never interacted with her.” Right. Nick and Maya Zinberg barely exchanged a few words; how could he possibly have given her flowers? I breathed a sigh of relief, about to swallow my pride and apologize to Nick. The class bell rang. I wrote a note and tucked it into his desk. But then I noticed a pink envelope in Nick’s desk, adorned with a small heart. I recognized the handwriting. It was my sister’s, Maya Zinberg. 2 My fingers hooked the pink envelope, and without a second thought, I pulled it out. The letter unfolded, revealing Maya Zinberg’s familiar, elegant script. In it, she wrote about being smitten with Nick the first time she saw him, her envy watching him bring me flowers, and her hesitation to approach him. I patiently flipped through, until the very last line: “If you agree, please send me a white lily.” My gaze halted. So it wasn’t a coincidence; that white lily on her bedside table came from him. The teacher at the front of the class was lecturing animatedly. I fought down my anger, slammed the letter onto Nick’s desk, and glared at him. The screech of my chair against the floor was too harsh. The teacher frowned and called my name: “Chloe Zinberg, what are you doing distracting yourself in class? You answer this question.” I stared at the formula on the blackboard, my mind blank, filled only with the contents of that letter. Nick whispered the answer beside me, his tone urgent and soothing. But I didn’t want to say a word. The teacher waited for a long time with no response, her face darkening completely: “Chloe Zinberg, what do you have besides a pretty face? Your grades aren’t as good as your sister’s, your personality is spoiled and bossy, you constantly make boys fawn over you, throwing the class into chaos!” I lowered my head, biting my lip, saying nothing. I didn’t care what people said about my personality. But I hated it most when people compared me to my sister. I didn’t look at the teacher, nor at Nick, and walked straight out of the classroom, my face cold. I had just washed my face in the girls’ restroom when I heard Nick’s footsteps behind me. His face was full of urgency, completely unlike his usual calm, accommodating self: “Chloe, don’t be mad.” “You know perfectly well I hate it when people compare me to her!” I looked up, glaring at Nick. “Nick Singer, don’t play dumb. You know that’s not what I’m angriest about.” He pursed his lips, a hint of grievance in his eyes, and explained softly: “The white lily was specifically for you. I didn’t know she wanted one too, and I certainly never intended to give her one.” I asked, “Then what about the white lily on her bedside table?” “She must have bought it herself, wanting you to misunderstand,” Nick sighed, his tone helpless. “Lots of guys in class like you, saying they’ll ask you out after graduation. I was afraid of losing you, so I wanted to make you a little jealous, to let you know I care.” His gaze was pleading: “I’ve already explained to the teacher; don’t take it to heart. I can wait, until you’re ready to accept me, after graduation, however long it takes.” Seeing the persistence in his eyes, remembering his unwavering presence for ten years. The fire in my heart died down a bit. I said, my face still cold, “Fine, after graduation.” Nick’s eyes immediately lit up, and his gentle smile returned. On the way home from school, he took a call, frowning, and said, “Something urgent came up. You go home first; I’ll find you when I’m done.” I nodded and walked on. After a few steps, I remembered my water bottle was in the classroom and turned back. Reaching the classroom door, I was about to push it open when I heard Maya Zinberg’s voice, with a hint of petulance: “Nick, are you really going to wait until after graduation?” I froze. 3 The classroom door was ajar, and Maya Zinberg’s voice drifted out, soft and docile. “Nick, the way Chloe walked out of class today, the teacher must be really upset. And you’re still going to explain for her, it’s too much work.” “Sometimes I wonder, you’ve waited for her all these years, offered her all your best, but she seems to… never really care.” “Chloe probably doesn’t understand how rare it is for someone to wait wholeheartedly, just like I’m waiting for you.” She looked at Nick with feigned concern: “I’m just worried you’re too tired. If Chloe keeps acting like this, won’t you be too wronged?” No tears, no playing the victim, no blatant insults. It made my chest tighten with disgust, yet I couldn’t pinpoint any direct malice. I shoved the classroom door open. The door slammed lightly against the wall with a muffled thud. Maya Zinberg turned around, showing no alarm, only a perfectly placed expression of surprise. Then she lowered her eyes, docile as a harmless kitten, completely devoid of the unease from just moments ago. My gaze landed on her. I raised an eyebrow: “Maya Zinberg, when you talk behind people’s backs, you’re much more agreeable than in front of Mom and Dad.” “Worried about him? It’s not your place to be. How I treat him is between us, and it’s not up to someone who’s barely spoken a few words to him to defend him.” Maya Zinberg’s eyes reddened, but she merely whispered in defense: “Chloe, I didn’t mean to. I’m just worried about Nick. I didn’t mean anything else. Please don’t overthink it.” Nick, standing nearby, frowned slightly, stepping forward. His tone carried a hint of exasperation towards me, and a gentle protection towards Maya Zinberg: “Chloe, don’t say that. Maya is just being kind, no ill intent. Why are you so aggressive?” That single sentence made my heart ache. The year I was born, Maya followed, premature and frail. The entire family’s focus instantly shifted. She lacked a “wood” element in her Chinese astrology, so they named her Maya, like an evergreen redwood, wishing her a life of joy, cherished in everyone’s palms. And I was named Chloe. To be cautious in words and deeds, always yielding. From childhood, if she wanted something of mine, I had to give it up. My only friend was also snatched away by her casual remark: “Chloe’s just like that; you’ll always feel wronged playing with her.” Everyone told me, “You’re the older sister; she’s delicate, you have to let her have her way.” I was forced into being sharp, moody, and difficult. Only then could I hold onto a tiny bit of what was mine. Everyone favored her, except Nick Singer. Since age seven, he ignored everyone’s criticisms, ignored me throwing his flowers in the trash, ignored my cold remarks, and always unconditionally stood by me. Seven-year-old Nick stubbornly told me: “I love how you protect yourself! We’re friends, and I’ll always stand by you!” “People who live by stealing from others like her aren’t worth your anger!” But just now, for Maya Zinberg, he frowned and offered a dismissive word of protection. No favoritism, no over-the-top defense, just a common plea for calm. Yet he knew exactly how desperate I had been forced to become. But he still chose to protect her. I took a deep breath, refusing to feel wronged. The next second, I raised my hand and slapped Nick. Nick’s head snapped to the side from the blow. He turned back, startled, his eyes filled with disbelief and a hint of hurt. I didn’t look at him, nor at the bewildered Maya Zinberg. Tears welled in my eyes, but I bit my lip hard, refusing to let them fall. The way to protect myself from feeling wronged wasn’t to cry. I turned and stormed out of the classroom without looking back. Leaving ten years of companionship, ten years of favoritism, all behind me. 4 I rushed back to the dorm. Having been estranged from my family for so long, I chose to live on campus. A moment later, my roommate cautiously approached, her voice tentative: “Chloe, there’s a guy waiting for you downstairs, it’s Nick Singer.” I was listening to music. Hearing her, I replied, “Got it, thanks.” I picked up my phone and immediately texted Nick: [Get lost, don’t be an eyesore here.] Message sent, I flipped my phone face down on the desk. My roommate stood there, hesitating for a long while, as if gathering great courage, then whispered: “Chloe, my brother… he’s liked you for a long time, since freshman year. You’re so pretty; isn’t it better not to focus on just one person, to look at others?” Her brother, Julian Evans. The only one in the whole school who dared to openly defy me, whom I’d verbally sparred with countless times, and who still wouldn’t back down—he liked me? This was even more ridiculous than Nick’s excuses. I didn’t respond. Outside the window, the sky slowly darkened. Evening study hall ended at nine; it was now eleven-fifty, a full three hours later. My phone vibrated countless times on the desk. Nick’s messages popped up one after another, but I didn’t glance at a single one. Ten minutes left until the dorm gates closed. If Nick didn’t leave soon, he’d be sleeping on the streets tonight. The screen suddenly lit up. The caller ID was Mr. Singer. Nick’s father, who lost his wife early and raised him alone, had always doted on me like his own daughter. Every time I went to his house, he’d find ways to make my favorite dishes, always saying it was his blessing that Nick stood by me. I sighed, finally answering, my voice softening slightly: “Mr. Singer.” “Chloe,” Mr. Singer’s voice was anxious, “Nick’s been standing downstairs for almost three hours. It’s so cold; could you please go down and see him? Please, as a favor to me.” “…I understand.” I grabbed my jacket and went downstairs. Nick stood under the streetlight, his voice terribly hoarse, filled with deep-seated hurt: “Chloe, you finally agreed to see me.” “This afternoon, I really just wanted to talk to Maya, to make it clear to her to stop overthinking things, to stop meddling in our business.” “I was protecting her not out of favoritism, but because I was afraid she’d be malicious, turn around and spread rumors in class or at home, ruin your reputation, and make things harder for you.” “I know you hit me because you felt wronged, because for so many years only I stood by you, and I disappointed you. I don’t blame you, not at all. I only feel for you…” As he spoke, his voice caught, and the tears in his eyes finally fell. The boy’s raw vulnerability was laid bare before me. He reached out, gently tugging my sleeve: “Chloe, could we, just hug? Just once. I’ll go straight home; I won’t bother you.” The figure who shielded me at seven, the white lily handed to me at seventeen, that question of “Are you hurt?” when the locket shattered… All my sharpness, in that moment, softened for an instant. I didn’t push him away. Nick immediately stepped forward, gently embracing me, holding me tightly, choking back sobs: “Don’t leave me… please.” After only a few seconds, I gently pushed him away: “Go back. The gates are closing.” Nick reluctantly let go of me, his eyes red, nodding, and ran towards the school gate, looking back three times. I turned to go back to the dorm. A tall figure suddenly emerged from the shadows nearby, blocking my path. It was Julian Evans. I raised an eyebrow, “Good dogs don’t block the road.” Julian sneered, retorting, “Nor do your dog-eyes recognize people.” He didn’t say anything else, just directly handed his phone to me. The screen was lit. A clear photo, taken just moments ago. Right at the corner downstairs of this dorm building, a blind spot I couldn’t see. Nick Singer was tightly embracing Maya Zinberg, bending down to kiss her deeply and wildly. Maya raised her hand, hooking his neck, tilting her head slightly, docile and dependent, showing no trace of the embarrassment of being rejected. 5 Back in my dorm, I blocked and deleted all of Nick Singer’s contact information. Graduation was only six months away. Even if I, Chloe Zinberg, was a scoundrel, or spoiled, I wouldn wouldn’t waste my remaining time on someone who was full of lies and played both sides. The moment dawn broke, I got ready and walked into the academic building as usual. But today, it felt like I was back a few years ago. In the hallway, many eyes were on me, whispering: “That’s her, Chloe Zinberg. I heard she strung Nick Singer along for ten years, treating him like a toy, and now she still wants to hold onto him, even trying to steal her own sister’s boyfriend.” “Not just that, someone saw her hugging Nick Singer downstairs the dorm yesterday, clinging to him.” “I always disliked her; she uses her looks to mess with guys. I heard she used to always steal her sister’s things. So disgusting, how is someone like her not expelled yet…” And rumors about my promiscuous private life, claiming I’d slept with countless people. Every word was too vile to hear. Just like before. My freshman year, Maya Zinberg developed a crush on a boy in class. The boy casually complimented me, saying, “You’re so pretty.” She immediately turned around and cried to our family and classmates, claiming I deliberately flirted, that I used my looks to intentionally steal her things. My family, without questioning, pointed fingers at me, calling me thoughtless, selfish, and malicious. I fought with the people who spread rumors about me, hitting one until he passed out, my eyes red with fury. The school threatened to suspend me, and my family, swayed by Maya, didn’t care. I was pushed to the rooftop, wanting nothing more than to jump and end it all. It was Nick Singer who rushed up like a madman, tightly hugging my waist, pulling me back. He knelt on the ground, trembling all over, his eyes red, screaming: “Chloe Zinberg, don’t you dare die! I believe you, I’ll always believe you! Everyone else can doubt you, but I believe! Anyone who dares to say a bad word about you, I’ll fight them to the death!” He literally took a suspension for me, and he tried to explain to my classmates and repair my relationships. But what about now? Nick Singer stood at the classroom door, for the first time openly standing beside Maya Zinberg. Julian Evans walked past, slowly remarking: “Are you waiting for Nick Singer to stand up like before and say, ‘She’s not like that’?” I said nothing, just walked up to Nick Singer, my gaze calm: “Nick Singer, I’m just going to ask you one question.” “Were you clinging to me while you already had a girlfriend, or not?” A flicker of struggle crossed Nick Singer’s eyes. The girl he had once gambled his entire youth believing in stood before him, tears in her eyes. But in the end, he only said: “No.” “You were clinging to me. Maya has nothing to do with it.” The entire class erupted in gasps.

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In the macabre tales of the living dead, I was a fake heiress. To bring me back to life, my parents mortgaged their health, my brother sacrificed his lifespan, and even my fiancé pawned off his entire fortune. This time, I learned my lesson. I wouldn’t be like before. When my parents favored the true heiress, I chose understanding. When my brother, swayed by her slander, wrongly accused me, I simply bowed my head and admitted fault. I even walked in on her and my fiancé in a drunken embrace, and I calmly handed over my wedding dress and engagement. After all, in my past life, they hated nothing more than my constant arguing and fighting over these things. But when I truly stopped fighting, they grew restless, anxious. “Rina, don’t be like this to us. You can have anything you want.” “Just please, come back to how you used to be…” They pleaded over and over. I didn’t ask for much, considering their current predicament. I only requested a hundred million dollars. 1. The biting scent of disinfectant shot straight to my brain. A cacophony of voices buzzed around me, making my head throb. I opened my eyes to a blinding white. Instantly, several magnified faces swam into view. My father clutched his chest, coughing violently, as if trying to tear his lungs out. My mother’s cheeks were flushed crimson, her forehead slick with cold sweat, her palms scorching hot to the touch. My once vibrant brother sported a shock of disheveled white hair. He was barely in his twenties, yet his hair was completely white, his face shadowed by enormous dark circles, making him look like he’d just escaped a refugee camp. The most bizarre was Henry. The former prince of the city’s elite, who wouldn’t be caught dead in anything less than bespoke tailoring, now wore a pilled white shirt that looked like a bargain bin special from a discount store. “Rina! You’re finally awake!” My mother cried, snot and tears streaming down her face, her scalding tears splattering onto my hand. “The psychic was right! As long as we were willing to pay the price, we could call your soul back!” They babbled on, tripping over each other’s words. To resurrect me, my parents had fallen gravely ill, their health permanently damaged. My brother had shaved sixty years off his life, his hair turning white overnight. Henry had squandered his family fortune, left penniless. It sounded truly touching. As if bringing me back to life was their lifelong pursuit. I looked at their overjoyed faces, my heart utterly still. If they loved me so much, why did they drive me to my death in my previous life? The ocean in my dying moments last time had been too cold; it had frozen my heart solid. I tried to twist my parched lips into a smile, but my facial muscles felt stiff, unresponsive. A leopard doesn’t change its spots. Trusting them would be like believing pigs could fly. … For the first month after I was discharged and returned home, my family acted as if they’d rip out their own hearts and present them to me on a platter. At dinner, my mother piled every piece of meat onto my plate. While watching TV, my brother shoved the remote into my hand, letting me watch whatever I wanted. Even Fiona, the true heiress who was always doted on, became invisible in this house. The other day, Fiona merely glanced my way, and my mother immediately bristled. “What are you looking at! If it weren’t for you, Rina wouldn’t have suffered so much! Get back to your room!” Fiona flinched, tears welling in her eyes, but she dared not let them fall. This scene was truly ironic. In my past life, ever since Fiona came back, I was always the one being yelled at like that. Her masterful acting had everyone dancing to her tune. She threw herself into the ocean, then claimed I pushed her. I tried to explain, but no one believed me. My parents pointed fingers, calling me ungrateful, threatening to kick me out. My brother, to avenge Fiona, hired thugs to break my legs. Henry was the cruelest. He said he wanted me to experience Fiona’s despair, then had me thrown into that very ocean. “Rina can swim; she won’t drown. It’ll just teach her a lesson.” He watched coldly from the shore. But he forgot, how could someone with broken legs swim? The icy seawater flooded my nasal passages, my lungs felt like they would burst. I struggled desperately, but could only watch myself sink. Until the moment I lost consciousness, no hand ever reached for me. Now, this show of deep affection—who was it for? … The false peace couldn’t last. Human nature’s inertia is immense; the slightest relaxation and it snaps back to its original state. At the dinner table, six dishes, two soups. The last piece of sweet and sour pork remained on the platter. It was my father’s signature dish, and my favorite. Fiona kept her head down, picking at her white rice, like a wronged daughter-in-law. Suddenly, a single tear plinked into her bowl. The sound was soft, but piercing in the quiet dining room. She said nothing, just quietly wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and continued to stuff rice into her mouth. That look of enduring humiliation, it was truly heartbreaking to witness. My father’s eating slowed. He looked at Fiona’s pitiful display, his brows furrowed. Almost an unconscious movement, he picked up the piece of pork that was meant for me, twisted his wrist, and placed it in Fiona’s bowl. “Why are you crying? Have some meat.” The action was fluid, as natural as breathing. Only after he finished did he suddenly snap back to reality. His chopsticks froze mid-air, and the expression on his face solidified. My mother and brother also froze, their gazes darting between me and that piece of pork. Fiona bit her lip, the piece of pork glaringly obvious against the white rice. She timidly glanced at me, whispering, “Rina, you have it. I’m not hungry…” Dead silence descended on the dining table. Everyone held their breath, waiting for me to react. If this were my past life, I would have already smashed my bowl. I would have hysterically demanded to know why my father was so biased, why he always picked for her, never for me. I would have pointed at Fiona and called her out for her fakery. Then everyone would storm off, and I would once again be branded “immature” and “narrow-minded.” But now, I just found it amusing. See? This was their so-called “change of heart.” All it took was two crocodile tears from Fiona, and their scales would immediately tip. I put down my chopsticks, pulled out a napkin, and dabbed my mouth. A perfectly composed smile spread across my face. “Fiona really is too thin. She should eat more to nourish herself.” My tone was even, devoid of any sarcasm. After saying this, I even picked up a stalk of greens and put it in my mouth, chewing with evident enjoyment. My parents visibly relaxed, but then, a hint of awkwardness and guilt crept onto their faces. It was a complex expression. Relieved I hadn’t made a scene, yet also finding my reaction unsettling. Too agreeable. Too agreeable to be the spoiled Rina they knew. “Rina, darling, your father didn’t mean it like that…” My father tried to explain, his wrinkles deepening. I cut him off. “Dad, please eat. The food will get cold.” I lowered my head and continued eating, blocking out their scrutinizing stares. After dinner, I went back to my room and picked up a book. The door slammed open. My brother burst in, seething, with a meek-looking Fiona trailing behind him. Fiona had her sleeves rolled up, revealing a purplish bruise on her wrist. “Rina! Have you been bullying Fiona again?!” My brother’s roar made my eardrums throb. “Did you do that to Fiona’s arm? I knew you wouldn’t settle down so easily! You pretend to be magnanimous, but you’re secretly underhanded. When did you become so vicious?!” Familiar recipe, familiar flavor. No evidence needed, no investigation required. If Fiona was hurt, the culprit was always me. Fiona hid behind my brother, stammering, “Bro, don’t blame Rina. I just bumped myself accidentally… it’s not Rina’s fault…” This tactic of feigned humility, she had mastered it perfectly. My brother grew even angrier. “Don’t cover for her! Besides her, who else in this family would target you?” After his tirade, he seemed to suddenly remember something. Remembered whose sake his white hair was for, remembered that I was someone who had “died once.” The anger on his face froze, and he forcefully suppressed his rage, switching to a more serious, advising tone: “Rina, darling, I’m not trying to yell at you. You and Fiona are sisters, you should stick together. Mom and Dad and I have already talked to her, had a heart-to-heart. She won’t target you anymore, so you don’t need to be defensive.” Looking at his hypocritical face, I felt nothing but revulsion. Before he could finish, I stood up. Facing him and Fiona, I bowed deeply. A ninety-degree bow. “I’m sorry. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have appeared before Fiona, shouldn’t have breathed the same air. I promise, I’ll stay ten feet away from her from now on, so she never feels uncomfortable.” My tone was flat, like an emotionless robot. Admitting every baseless accusation, my sincerity was impeccable. My brother, prepared with a belly full of lectures, found them choked in his throat, his face turning beet-red. He opened his mouth, about to say I didn’t need to be so submissive. I had already straightened up, expressionlessly closing my bedroom door. The door clicked shut right in front of his nose, completely cutting off his bewildered face. … Soon, it was Henry’s birthday, though this year his birthday celebration was comically meager. To resurrect me, the once lavish Henry, now couldn’t even afford a decent private room. The cheap disco ball in the main hall made my eyes spin, and on the tables were a few bottles of watered-down liquor. His sycophantic friends were still forced to praise him, calling him “devoted” and a “reformed rake.” I found the noise grating, so I excused myself to touch up my makeup and headed towards the lounge at the end of the hallway. My hand had just touched the doorknob when strange sounds drifted out. The rustling of fabric, and gasps stifled with great effort. The door wasn’t locked. I gently pushed, and the heavy, solid wood door cracked open. The scene through the gap was even more blinding than the lights in the main hall. Fiona was sitting on Henry’s lap. Her already short cocktail dress was bunched up to her waist, her two dazzlingly white legs tightly wrapped around Henry’s waist. Henry’s hand was buried beneath her dress. Both their faces were flushed, sweat trickling down Henry’s temples. The air was thick with a cloyingly nauseating sweetness. Fiona arched her head back, her neck forming a delicate curve, a seductive moan escaping her lips: “Henry, darling…” Her voice was a winding, melodious whisper. I stood at the doorway, watching this tableau, feeling utterly nothing. I even had the leisure to evaluate Fiona’s figure. She certainly had more curves than my recently resurrected, sickly self. No wonder Henry couldn’t resist. My past self, if I had witnessed this, would probably have felt the sky collapsing. I would have stormed in, splashed champagne in their faces, dragged Fiona out by her hair to expose her. I would have cried, screamed, demanded to know why Henry betrayed me. But now, I just found the scene repulsive. So repulsive that I had no desire to even step inside. Perhaps it was the draft from the doorway. Henry jolted, his hazy eyes snapping into focus. The moment he saw me, all the color drained from his face. The expression was as if he’d seen a ghost. “Wil… Rina?!” He fumbled to push Fiona off him. The force was surprising; he sent Fiona tumbling off the sofa, her forehead hitting the coffee table corner with a thud. Fiona shrieked, clutching her forehead, looking at Henry in disbelief. But Henry paid her no mind. He scrambled towards me, practically crawling, trying to grab my hand. “Rina! Let me explain!” “It’s not what you think! I was drunk… it was her! She seduced me!” He babbled incoherently, trembling all over. The cheap shirt, drenched in sweat, clung to his body, making him look utterly pathetic. I stepped back half a pace, avoiding his outstretched hand. As if avoiding a bag of wet garbage just pulled from a bin. Henry’s hand froze mid-air. He stared intently at my face, trying to find even a hint of anger, jealousy, or sorrow. Alas, he was destined to be disappointed. I was calm. This calmness terrified him. More than if I had a knife in my hand. “Rina, yell at me.” His voice trembled, his eyes bloodshot. “Hit me, slap me! Just don’t look at me like this… please, don’t look at me like this!” I ignored his outburst. I lowered my head, opened my purse, and slowly pulled out a red velvet box from a hidden compartment. Click. The box opened. Inside lay the diamond engagement ring. Then, I took out a pre-written letter of disengagement, placing it neatly on the nearby coffee table, along with the ring. Right where Fiona had just cut her head. The fresh crimson bloodstain, reflecting the cold gleam of the diamond, had a morbid beauty. “Happy birthday, Henry.” I looked at him, my tone as gentle as if catching up with an old friend. “I was wondering what gift would be appropriate. Since you’re so fond of Fiona, then I’ll grant your wish. Consider this letter of disengagement my present to you both.” Henry was stunned. He stared at the letter as if it were some monstrous beast. “No… I don’t want it…” He shook his head desperately, tears and snot blurring his face. “I squandered my family fortune for you! I put my life on the line for you! Rina, how could you do this to me?!” “Just because of this one time? Just because of this one accident?!” He roared, the veins in his neck bulging. “I told you I was drunk! Can’t you be understanding?!” How laughable. This was the man who claimed to love me to his bones. One moment entangled with his prospective sister-in-law, the next resorting to emotional blackmail. His so-called deep affection, in the face of desire, was less than a used tissue. Seeing my silence, Henry suddenly lunged at me, embracing me like a madman. His strength was immense, squeezing my bones painfully. The stench of alcohol, perfume, and sweat churned my stomach. “Rina, please just make a scene! Please?!” His eyes were bloodshot, roaring in my ear: “You used to be so jealous! You used to throw a fit if I just spoke to another woman! Hit me, yell at me, anything! Just don’t be so calm, I’m scared!” “Like this… it makes me feel like you don’t care about me at all!” I let him hold me, my hands hanging at my sides, offering no response. When he finally tired himself out, panting, I raised my hand and gently patted his back. My movements were soft, like comforting a rabid stray dog. “Henry, you’re overthinking it.” My voice was gentle, carrying a hint of “understanding” consideration. “Men will be men, playing the field is normal. Fiona is young and beautiful, and she’s my sister. Keeping things in the family is fine, why would I be angry?” “I respect your choices, and I understand your needs.” Every word was like a blunt knife, carving into him. Henry’s body stiffened. He let go, stumbling back two steps, his eyes hollow as he stared at me. “You… what did you say?” “I said, I don’t mind.” I smiled, even helping him straighten his disheveled collar. “As long as you’re happy.” Henry utterly collapsed. He crouched on the floor, clutching his head, letting out animalistic whimpers. The despair was a hundred times more intense than when he went bankrupt. Because he realized, no matter what he did, the Rina who used to cry and laugh, whose eyes were solely for him, was never coming back. All he had bought back with his entire fortune was a soulless shell. Fiona huddled in the corner, trembling. She had originally wanted to see me make a fool of myself, to watch me become hysterical. But now, she only felt cold. A bone-deep chill that shot from her soles to the crown of her head. I didn’t spare them another glance. I turned and walked towards the door. My hand paused on the doorknob. I looked back, giving that pathetic pair a perfectly poised smile. “Oh, right. The guests outside are still waiting for cake.” “You two carry on. Just keep it down. Don’t disturb everyone.” With that, I thoughtfully closed the door behind me. Following the soft click of the lock. Henry’s heartbroken roar echoed from inside, along with the loud crash of something being smashed.

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The new semester had barely begun when the principal announced that all student guardians had to attend a school-wide classroom clean-up. I saw my chance and approached the principal privately to explain my situation. “Principal, my parents have very specialized jobs. They truly can’t make it.” To my surprise, the principal slammed his lesson plan down on his desk and roared at me, “Every other parent can make it, but yours are ‘special’? You wrote ‘confidential’ for their profession on the enrollment form, and now you’re making excuses for them not showing up? You don’t take me seriously at all!” He then laid down a harsh ultimatum: “If your parents don’t come, then we won’t keep you in this class!” I was utterly stunned. The regulations of their classified agency mean they can’t just go out in public! But when my parents actually showed up at the school, the principal’s attitude instantly changed. 1. Principal Vanderberg walked into the classroom, a grim look on his face, and slammed his lesson plan onto the podium. “For the new semester, I asked guardians to come to school for a clean-up. Only one student’s guardians didn’t show. What, is it embarrassing to sweep a floor at school? Or do you think your child’s grades are so good they don’t need to do ‘menial’ tasks?” His voice rose. “Let me tell you, in my class, the way guardians treat the school is how I treat their child.” Guardians coming to school for clean-up was supposed to be voluntary, but Principal Vanderberg was image-conscious. He felt the more guardians attended, the better it reflected on him as a principal, so he demanded all guardians must be present. “Lily Adams.” He called my name directly. I stood up. “What exactly do your parents do for a living? Street sweepers? Janitors? They must have some off-hours, right?” He asked, arms crossed. Someone snickered. “They…” I paused. “Their agency is… special. They can’t leave.” “What agency? Tell me about it.” “I can’t.” A brief silence fell over the classroom. Principal Vanderberg was furious. “Can’t say? Or are you embarrassed to say it?” “Starting the school year off with that passive-aggressive attitude, you think I can’t handle you?” I quickly explained, “Principal, I’m not. They truly can’t say…” Principal Vanderberg’s face was livid. He slammed his hand on the table. “I’ve been teaching for years, I’ve seen every kind of guardian! I’m calling your guardians right now! I’ll ask them myself! If they don’t tell me why they can’t come, you’ll stand for every class until graduation!” With that, the principal pulled out his phone and immediately dialed the number I had provided, deliberately putting it on speaker. From the phone’s speaker came a mechanical female voice: “Hello, the number you have dialed is not in service. Please check the number and dial again.” The classroom erupted in laughter. Principal Vanderberg hung up, his chest heaving. He felt mocked and humiliated by me. “Lily Adams.” He gritted his teeth. “You’re playing games with me?” “No, Principal, they truly are…” “Silence.” He pointed a finger at me. “Do you think I’m an idiot? You’ve been lying from start to finish. There’s no such thing as a ‘classified agency.’ You just didn’t want your parents to come. You’re deliberately defying me!” He grew angrier as he spoke, his face red. “Since your parents won’t come to school, then you don’t need to attend class. Get out now!” I explained again, “Principal, I already told you, my parents’ work is highly sensitive. Not just anyone can reach them.” Principal Vanderberg was trembling with rage. “Get out!” I sighed, resigned, and walked out into the corridor. Principal Vanderberg was notoriously petty. Once, a student merely misremembered the timetable and took out a textbook for another subject. Principal Vanderberg publicly berated him for an entire class. If I couldn’t resolve this, who knew how much trouble he’d cause me later. I pulled out my encrypted phone and sent a message to the group chat with my parents: [My principal, Mr. Vanderberg, has some misunderstandings about me because you couldn’t come for the clean-up. Can you explain to him?] A moment later, my mother replied, indicating understanding: [Understood. Situation reported. Someone will handle it.] 2. I stood in the corridor for a full class period, my legs aching. Finally, when the bell for the break rang, I went to the staff office to explain, but at the door, I overheard Principal Vanderberg’s voice. “That Lily Adams, she’s a rotten apple! Doesn’t show up for clean-up, her parents’ profession is ‘confidential,’ and her phone number is out of service! What kind of behavior is this? This is blatant deception of the school, deception of the teachers! Her family values are clearly problematic!” My heart sank. Another teacher spoke up. “No, that can’t be right? Maybe there’s a special reason? The child is usually very well-behaved.” Principal Vanderberg’s voice rose. “Well-behaved? I’ve seen plenty of students like her. What’s the use of good grades? If their character is flawed, they’ll just be a blight on society! Her parents are probably fugitives, that’s why she’s so secretive!” I couldn’t take it anymore. I kicked the door open. It might have been my fault for not explaining properly, but how dare he, as a principal, insult my parents? All the teachers’ gazes turned to me. I looked directly at Principal Vanderberg. “Mr. Vanderberg, you can question me, but you cannot slander my parents like this! You have no evidence, so how dare you say my parents are fugitives!” Principal Vanderberg’s face was livid. He pointed at me. “What kind of attitude is that? Eavesdropping on teachers, then barging in to talk back! Was I wrong? I think you lack proper upbringing!” “My upbringing teaches me to be truthful and to follow rules!” I met his gaze without flinching. “What I’m saying is the truth, and as for my parents’ profession, you have no right to know!” “You’re out of line!” Principal Vanderberg was trembling with rage. He grabbed his lesson plan book from the table and threw it at me, but I dodged it. He roared, “Get out! From now on, you’re out of my class!” I pressed my lips together and turned to leave. Behind me, Principal Vanderberg roared, “Look at that! What an attitude, incorrigible! I’ll definitely teach her a lesson!” Back in my classroom seat, three or five classmates huddled together, whispering, then all turned to look at me, then turned back to continue talking. “Principal said her parents are fugitives!” “We should stay away from her!” My hand, which was turning a page, froze. The class president stood up from his seat, clapped his hands. “Everyone, hand in your holiday assignments. Separate by subject, pass them up by group.” I lowered my head, rummaging through my bag, about to pass my holiday assignment to the student in front. Principal Vanderberg walked directly towards me. In front of the whole class, he took the stack of assignments from my hands, turned around, and tossed them into the trash bin. The classroom was dead silent. All the blood rushed to my head. “Principal Vanderberg!” “What?” He turned to me. “You’ve repeatedly challenged my authority. Since I can’t control you anyway, you don’t need to hand in your assignments anymore.” He took a stack of test papers from the podium and handed them to the class president. “These are this week’s practice sheets. Hand them out.” Principal Vanderberg glanced at me again. “Oh, and don’t give any to Lily Adams. I’ve confiscated her papers.” “Also, I’ve spoken with the other subject teachers. From now on, Lily Adams doesn’t need to hand in any assignments or test papers for any subject. It’ll be useless, we won’t accept them.” My body went cold. Just because my parents couldn’t come to school for clean-up? I was going to be treated like this? The class bell rang. Principal Vanderberg pointed to the corridor. “My class, you can get out!” I gritted my teeth, turned, and left the classroom, knocking on the head of student affairs’ office. 3. I recounted the entire incident to Dean Thompson. “Principal Vanderberg, because my parents couldn’t come to school for clean-up, called them fugitives and made the whole class aware. He also threw my assignments in the trash, saying he wouldn’t accept my work anymore, wouldn’t give me test papers. I want the Dean to judge this fairly.” Dean Thompson listened to my words, then remained silent for a moment. “Lily, dear,” his voice was serious. “I’ve heard what you said. I know Principal Vanderberg; he’s a bit hot-headed, but his intentions are good.” A kindly smile spread across his face. “How about this, in a little while, I’ll use the school intercom to speak on your behalf, and I’ll explain your parents’ situation to everyone, so the teachers and students don’t misunderstand. How does that sound?” My eyes welled up. “Thank you, Dean Thompson! Thank you!” “Go on, go on,” he waved his hand. I bowed deeply to him and left the office. Standing in the corridor, I let out a deep sigh of relief. The intercom would ring soon. Once this was resolved, I could go back to class and study like before. I stood outside the classroom, where Principal Vanderberg was teaching. The intercom crackled to life. I immediately stood up straight. “Attention all faculty and students.” Dean Thompson’s voice came through the speaker. “Here is an announcement.” I took a deep breath. “Regarding the disciplinary action against junior student Lily Adams.” “Upon investigation, it was found that the student provided false guardian information, defied her principal’s authority, and refused to cooperate with class duties. After multiple attempts by the principal to educate her, she showed no remorse, and today, during a break, she left class without permission and disrupted the teaching order. Her actions severely violate school rules and regulations, creating a negative impact.” “After deliberation by the grade committee, it has been decided to place student Lily Adams on school probation. All students are advised to take this as a warning, and respect their teachers. End of announcement.” I felt as if struck by lightning, my mind completely blank. Principal Vanderberg gave me a mocking smile from inside the classroom. I turned and ran, kicking open the Dean of Student Affairs’ office door. Dean Thompson was drinking tea. He frowned and shouted. “What’s wrong with you? Don’t you know to knock before entering?” “Why did you lie to me?” I gasped, my voice trembling. “Didn’t you promise to help me? Why did the announcement say I was being disciplined?” He stood up, enraged. “Lily Adams, let me tell you, don’t make trouble here. Your disciplinary action is final!” Principal Vanderberg stomped in. Her eyes were spitting fire. “Oh, Lily Adams, you dare to come looking for the Dean!” She took a few quick steps, and without a word, slapped me. My face burned, and I stumbled sideways. “You little brat!” Principal Vanderberg pointed at my nose and yelled, “Even if you go to the Headmaster, it won’t matter! I run this class! I’m telling you, you messed with the wrong person today!” “Cousin, calm down,” Dean Thompson said from the side. I clutched my face, staring at them in disbelief. No wonder Principal Vanderberg was so arrogant; Dean Thompson was backing her up. My phone vibrated. A message from my mother: [Daughter, we’ll be at your school in ten minutes.] Principal Vanderberg’s face darkened. She stepped forward and roughly knocked my phone out of my hand. “Still trying to call for help? Dream on! I’ll teach you a good lesson for your fugitive parents right now!” My fists clenched. All the blood rushed to my head, the pain on my cheek, the heat in my eyes, all mixed together into something indescribable. But my parents were arriving soon. Then, let’s see how arrogant she could be! I scoffed. “Mr. Vanderberg, are you really sure you want to do this?” 4. Principal Vanderberg scoffed, yelling, “Security! Now!” Two security guards ran in. Principal Vanderberg pointed at me, furious. “This student violated school rules and assaulted a teacher!” “Look at this slap mark on my face! She’s completely out of control. She needs a lesson!” I looked at Principal Vanderberg’s smooth face and laughed, exasperated. This was a complete inversion of the truth. The guards rushed forward, twisting my arms, one on each side, pinning me in place. I struggled, but two fists were no match for four hands. Principal Vanderberg stood before me, looking down. “If your parents won’t discipline you, then I’ll do it for them. I’ll teach you respect!” “Now, get on your knees and apologize!” I struggled, shouting, “I’m not wrong!” “I won’t kneel!” The guards’ grip was strong, pressing on my shoulders until they ached. I twisted my body, kicking at the ground. “Hold her down!” Dean Thompson yelled, and from behind, he kicked the back of my knee. My leg gave out, and I slammed to my knees on the floor. Principal Vanderberg squatted in front of me, holding her phone, the camera pointed at my face. “Come on, look up. Let everyone see what a student who hits a teacher looks like.” “Say, ‘My parents are fugitives.’” I bit my lip, staying silent. She stood up and handed her phone to one of the security guards. “Hold this. Get a clear shot.” The guard took the phone, the camera still on me. Principal Vanderberg circled behind me and kicked me in the back. I stumbled forward, bracing myself with my hands on the ground, my palms scraping against the floor, a burning pain. “Won’t say it?” Her voice came from above. “Fine. Let’s see how long you can hold out.” She bent down, grabbing a handful of my hair, yanking my face upward. My scalp screamed in pain, feeling like my hair was about to be ripped out. “Look at the camera. Admit your parents are fugitives. Say it.” Principal Vanderberg commanded. Tears streamed down my face from the pain, but I bit my lip and remained silent. My silence enraged Principal Vanderberg. She snatched the stun baton from the security guard’s belt. My blood ran cold. I fiercely demanded, “Principal Vanderberg! This is illegal! You are a disgrace to the teaching profession!” She pressed the stun baton to my shoulder, and I trembled with fear. “Scared now? Will you say it or not?” “Never! My parents are not fugitives.” My voice trembled, but each word was clear. “They protect this country. People like you don’t deserve to mention them.” Her face darkened, and she snapped, “You think you’re so tough!” With that, she moved to press the button. Just then, the classroom door was kicked open, and several figures appeared in the doorway. I cried out: “Mom, Dad, you’re finally here!”

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For ten years, I watched Ryan rise from a theater student to an award-winning actor. He once promised to announce our relationship when he made it big, but as his fame grew, he said he’d wait until he won an Oscar. Finally, at his film’s wrap party, he promised me a big surprise. With joy in my heart, I stepped onto the stage. Red roses lined the carpet; it felt like a romantic declaration. But as cameras started livestreaming, Sienna Hayes, his co-star, approached me holding a tattoo gun. Ryan coldly signaled crew members to hold me down. The icy needle pierced my wrist, the machine buzzing. I struggled fiercely, but Ryan stepped forward, gripped my shoulders, and held me still. In that moment, all hope left me. I stopped fighting. Sienna tattooed “Whore” on my inner wrist, then lifted my arm for the cameras. “You moved,” she giggled. “The bunny I tried to draw is crooked now.” The next day, I boarded a flight abroad, leaving that city behind for good. He searched everywhere for me, then complained, baffled: “Naomi Ryan, it was just a joke. Did you really have to disappear?” 1. The flesh on my wrist was still raw, blood dripping from my fingers onto the stage floor. I picked myself up. No one stopped me. The crowd parted automatically. Some were still laughing, their sounds dissolving into whispers as I passed. I heard Sienna’s voice from behind. “Oh dear, she’s not really mad, is she? Darling, go cheer her up.” Then Ryan’s voice, soft, with a laugh. “It’s fine. She won’t be.” The corridor was long, the dressing room at the end. Blood dripped all the way. The dressing room had a first-aid kit, fully stocked. I always prepared one for Ryan whenever he started a new film. Even if he never used it, I’d replace everything with new supplies for the next project. I opened the antiseptic alcohol and poured it onto the wound. The pain made my whole body tremble. Once the wound was finally bandaged, I cleaned the blood from my hands with a wet wipe. My phone vibrated twice. I looked down. It was a message from Ryan. [Sienna just loves to play. Don’t take it to heart. I’ll give you two days off once your wound is handled. Don’t forget, you have an appearance the day after tomorrow.] I stared at the words, slowly scrolling up. Most of the messages were from me to him. Public appearances, event lists—almost all work-related. We rarely chatted anymore. The last time he texted me was before the New Year. [Shooting a night scene tonight. Not coming home.] Scrolling further up. Last September, he promised to be with me for a medical procedure, but canceled at the last minute. [I can’t get away. I’ve arranged for a nurse to be with you.] Scrolling even further, all the messages boiled down to a few repetitive phrases: [Not coming home tonight.] [Eat by yourself.] [Don’t wait up for me.] I put my phone face down on the table, accidentally knocking over my bag beside it. A silver ring rolled out from a hidden pocket. It was from our third year together, when we were on a trip. Ryan had made it himself at a artisan’s workshop. He’d meticulously followed the craftsman’s instructions, learning each step of silversmithing, never showing any impatience. Back then, he said: “I can’t afford a diamond ring now, but one day I’ll be famous across the country. Then, you’ll take this ring and exchange it with me…” He didn’t finish his sentence. I instinctively asked, “Exchange for what?” He just smiled, his ear tips turning red, as he finished the ring. 2. The moment he placed the ring on my finger, the old craftsman smiled and wished us eternal love, offering us a discount if we ever came back to his shop. But in the seven years that followed, we never once returned. I left the ring on the table. I walked out without looking back. A few paparazzi were lurking outside the studio. Seeing me, they raised their phones and crowded around. “Hey, you’re the one from the live stream with the tattoo, right?” “Is that word real or fake? Let us see!” I didn’t stop, walking straight through them. Someone reached out to grab me, but I shook them off. “Pfft, who does she think she is, putting on airs.” “Got it, got it. It’s that girl. Just trying to grab headlines.” “Post it in the group chat, post it in the group chat.” I vanished into the night, the sound of camera shutters and laughter trailing behind me. In the taxi, the driver eyed me several times in the rearview mirror. “Miss, should you go to the hospital for that hand? Looks like you’ve lost a lot of blood.” “No need.” “Where to, then?” I gave him an address. The driver paused. “That’s an old apartment complex, right?” “Yes.” I didn’t want to say more. The car turned into a side street, the streetlights growing dimmer and dimmer. Looking at the old building where I’d lived for five years, I scoffed. “Naomi Ryan, Naomi Ryan, if he really loved you, how could he bear for you to live here for five years?” I really was blind and foolish. I mocked myself inwardly. The stairwell light was out; I had to feel my way up. The apartment was dark, only faint light from the streetlights outside the window. I sat in the darkness, and my wrist started to ache again. I looked down at the red bleeding through the bandage. Suddenly, I remembered freshman year, Ryan kissing me by the athletic field. He said he loved only two things in this world: acting and Naomi Ryan. When did that passionate, earnest boy become the one to push me into hell? This apartment was tiny, only 500 square feet. But things related to Ryan took up most of it. The magazine from his first photoshoot, with his first-ever autograph. The video from his first film promotion; I’d filmed almost every costume fitting. His first birthday celebration on set, his face smeared with frosting, his eyes crinkling in a smile. The award from his first time on an awards stage… I suddenly stood up and started to clear things out. Even the hoodie he’d left here years ago. Used mugs. Books he’d bought. His old scripts. All of it went into a trash bag. The bag filled, so I grabbed another. The room grew emptier and emptier. At 3 AM, I hauled seven trash bags downstairs. The trash bins couldn’t hold it all, so I piled them next to the bins. Just like those past memories. They should have been thrown out a long time ago. Back home, I started packing my luggage. Soon, all my belongings fit into one suitcase. I let out a soft, ironic laugh. This was my decade. The next morning at 9 AM, I went to the company to submit my resignation. Lisa, the HR director, and I had always been on good terms. Lisa sat behind her desk, motioning for me to sit down. She tapped the documents in front of her. “About your resignation, the company has considered it. It’s not approved.” “Why?” “Your contract states that resignation requires a one-month advance notice and the department head’s signature.” She finally looked up at me. “Ryan hasn’t signed off, so the process can’t proceed.” I lowered my eyes, staring at a crack on the table. “Lisa, I don’t need any compensation from the company, just my resignation.” She smiled, then stood up and patted my shoulder. 3. “Naomi, why are you so stubborn? I heard about what happened last night. You were certainly wronged. But think about it, it’s just a tattoo. It can be removed or covered up. It’s not a lifetime thing.” I didn’t speak. She lowered her voice. “I heard from accounting that Ryan is giving you a million dollars in compensation from his personal account.” “A million dollars! How many years would it take you to save that much here? People would kill for that, and you still want to leave?” The door was pushed open, and Alex from accounting poked her head in. “Oh, Naomi’s here. I was looking for you.” She walked over, plopped down beside me, and patted my knee. “I’m telling you, that million dollars is real. I just approved the transfer. You, don’t be foolish. With a million dollars, go to the best clinic, get the tattoo completely removed. Who’d remember any of this then?” Lisa chimed in. “That word’s on your wrist, not your face. A sleeve can cover it up. Who would know?” “Besides, think about it, getting a tattoo mark for a million dollars? Anyone else would be thanking Sienna Hayes for it.” I wasn’t surprised by their words; they were just ordinary people unaware of the full context. But this time, I wouldn’t soften or compromise. I shook my head. “Thank you for your kind intentions, both of you. If you’d like, you can go tell Sienna Hayes and see if she’ll give you a million dollars to tattoo a word on you.” “As for my resignation, my decision is final. If you insist on blocking me with paperwork, I’ll go speak to Ryan myself.” As soon as I left the meeting room, the company group chat on my phone exploded. [Heard she wanted to get ahead and got put in her place. Maybe the boss’s fake relationship became real.] [Is she really resigning? Not even taking the million? So foolish.] [Probably too ashamed after last night. Can’t face working here anymore.] [Idiot, a million bucks! I’d get tattooed all over for that.] Looking at these unrestrained discussions, I simply left the group chat. If the company wouldn’t let me resign, I had only one other option. I opened my phone’s contact list. The last time I spoke to my brother was five years ago. That day, he said our parents decided to emigrate and asked if I wanted to go with them. For Ryan, I refused. He asked, what could be more important than family? Yes, what or who could be more important than family? I stared at his name for a long time. My thumb hovered over the screen. I pressed the dial button. It rang twice, then connected. “Naomi Ryan?” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. “What’s wrong?” In that instant, I knelt down, covering my mouth, tears splashing onto the floor tiles. I, who had held back tears for so long, in that single, caring question, finally broke down. 4. Just after I hung up with my brother, Ryan’s message popped up. [You left your ring in the dressing room. I put it away for you.] [How can you forget something so important? Don’t be so careless next time.] I stared at the two lines. Typed three words. [Throw it away.] Thought about it, deleted. Typed again. [I don’t want it.] Deleted again. Finally, I typed three words, and sent them. [We’re breaking up.] Soon, Ryan’s call came through. “What are you doing? There’s a limit to how dramatic you can be. You’re going to…” His voice, low, suddenly swerved. “You’re going to resign?” “Didn’t accounting tell you I compensated you? What other demands do you have—?” I cut him off. “Ryan, I’m breaking up with you. Other than that, I have no demands.” The phone line went silent. I could feel him moving to an empty place. “Naomi Ryan, can you please stop this? It was for publicity! The show has this scene. Sienna plays a tattoo artist, and I was just helping with promotion. Aren’t you usually the most cooperative when it comes to my work?” My eyes stung. Looking out the window, the sky was overcast, threatening rain. His tone softened slightly, but his voice remained low. “Alright, I’ve talked to the company. I’ll arrange a role for you in the next movie. Haven’t you always wanted to act? A supporting role should be fine, right? There was a producer present yesterday who even said your struggle scene was better than the actual actress’s.” “Stop making a fuss. This won’t do you any good.” I held the phone, my fingers cold. He had witnessed my fear and my struggle with his own eyes. And then offered me a minor role. As compensation. “The role is reserved for you for three days. Think it over. Naomi Ryan, don’t be willful. I’ll handle the online backlash, but you should also know, if you leave me, no one will dare hire you. If you don’t come back, where else would you go?” I suddenly laughed. As I laughed, large tears splattered onto my clothes, creating a dark spot. “Ryan, this time, I’m the one letting you go.” The other end was silent for two seconds, then his voice became urgent, frantic. He no longer cared about keeping his voice low, shouting my name. “Naomi Ryan——” The next second, I hung up. The phone rang consecutively more than a dozen times, then finally stopped. Rain started falling outside the window, pattering against the glass. I stood up and walked to the window. I had spent ten years in this city. I knew every road, every landmark. But looking at those buildings, those streets now, I suddenly felt a sense of unfamiliarity. His words, “where else would you go if you don’t come back,” still echoed in my mind. He didn’t know my brother was already on a flight back. He didn’t know my passport was in my bag. He didn’t know I was determined to leave. He knew nothing. Because he never needed to know. The rain grew heavier. I stood by the window, watching the rain stream down the glass. My brother arrived that night. When he walked into my pitifully small, empty rental apartment, his eyes showed disgust. “Naomi Ryan, your Oscar-winning boyfriend lets you live like this?” I pressed my lips together, unconsciously clutching my suitcase. My bandaged wrist was accidentally exposed. My brother’s eyes narrowed, fixing on my wrist, his tone grim. “What happened to your hand?” I instinctively covered it with my sleeve, whispering, “It’s over, bro. I want to go home.” My brother paused, then let out a long sigh. “Alright. We’re going home.” The car pulled up to the departure hall entrance. As I opened the car door, a black minivan screeched to a halt beside us, tires scraping the pavement with an ear-splitting sound. The car door slid open, and Ryan strode towards me. He was wearing yesterday’s clothes, a baseball cap pulled low. He saw me, started to say something, then spotted the man holding my suitcase. His face instantly changed. “Who is he?” His voice was chilling. 5. He stared at me, then at my brother, and suddenly let out a laugh, full of sarcasm. “No wonder you were so determined to leave. You found someone new, didn’t you?” My brother frowned. I reached out and pulled his arm, shaking my head at him. I didn’t want to attract more attention, but Ryan wouldn’t let me off the hook. “Naomi Ryan, you’ve got guts.” Ryan took a step forward, blocking my path. “You acted so innocent when you were with me, and then you turn around and hook up with someone else? How long have you known him? A month? Two months? While I was filming, you were— ” “Think whatever you want.” I cut him off. He froze. “Ryan, even if there was cheating, you were first.” I linked my arm through my brother’s and turned towards the departure hall. “Naomi Ryan!” He rushed after me, grabbing my wrist. A sharp pain shot through the bandage. I flinched. “Let go.” “No.” He squeezed tighter. “Explain yourself. Who is he? Where are you going?” My brother forcefully shoved Ryan’s arm away, their shoulders squared in anger. This drew the attention of those nearby. A woman dragging a suitcase stopped, her eyes wide, lifting her phone and saying to the person next to her, “Isn’t that… Ryan, the great actor Ryan?” Her voice made several people nearby turn their heads simultaneously. “Holy hell, it really is Ryan!” “Ryan’s at the airport!” More phones went up. The flashes multiplied. Ryan stared at me, his eyes bloodshot, his voice very low, with a tremble I’d never heard before. “Nao, please don’t. Let’s go back and talk. I’ll agree to whatever you want…” I looked at his face. It was now etched with panic, his eyes red. “Ryan, the moment you held me down and let someone tattoo that word on me, my heart died.” He froze, instinctively wanting to argue. But the crowd grew, jamming the airport entrance. I was anxious to leave. He reached out again, this time avoiding my wrist, grabbing my arm. I used my other hand to pry his fingers open, one by one. He was strong; it took all my might to break his grip. Until the last finger was pried open, his entire being seemed to deflate, his shoulders slumping instantly. I turned and, escorted by my brother, walked towards the security checkpoint. His voice drifted from behind. “Nao, let me explain!” I didn’t stop. “Naomi Ryan, stop right there!” The crowd automatically parted to make way. Only this time, he was the one being surrounded. “Who is she?” “I don’t know, looks like Ryan’s girlfriend?” “When did Ryan get a girlfriend? Wasn’t he involved with Sienna Hayes?” “No, isn’t that the woman who was tattooed the other day?!” The murmuring faded behind me. The security checkpoint. My brother had already placed the suitcase on the conveyor belt. I handed my boarding pass to the attendant. The moment I walked through, his voice rang out again. He had actually vaulted over the railing and rushed in. “Naomi Ryan——” His voice echoed through the entire departure hall. He was blocked by staff, two people holding his shoulders firmly, trapped like a cornered beast. “Come back, don’t leave…” I looked into his eyes and suddenly smiled. “Ryan, who am I to you? What right do you have to ask me to stay?”

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1 Mark and Helen had just won the World Pairs Skating Championship, marking the close of the year’s biggest event. From the stands, the deafening chant of “Marry her!” grew. Flushed, I, Liam Noth, stood ready to propose under the glare of countless cameras. But Helen only smiled gently, removed the gold medal from my neck—the eighty-eighth time she’d done so—and placed it around our coach Adrian Vance’s neck. “Adrian has sacrificed so much for us,” she said with sweet authority. “Tonight’s spotlight should be his.” She added, “It’ss not that I don’t want your proposal, Liam, but you made mistakes today. I want perfection. Let’s wait until next year’s National Championships, when we can deliver a perfect performance, and then talk about getting engaged.” My eyes lingered on the glittering medal as she and Adrian stood side by side, looking so perfectly matched. A chill settled in my chest. I bit my lip, tasting blood, forcing a civil smile. If she kept deflecting like this at every awards ceremony, then next time I won a championship, it wouldn’t be her I proposed to. The audience exchanged bewildered glances, a murmur of discontent growing into a few scattered boos. Many, for whom this was their first figure skating event, had come solely because of Helen’s pre-competition hype. I, however, stood to the side, a bitter smile playing on my lips, and started clapping. Other athletes on the ice quickly pulled out their phones, snapping group selfies to lighten the mood. Helen and Adrian were at the very center, heads close, a picture of intimacy and perfect harmony. I, the male half of the winning pair, wasn’t even in the shot. After the awards ceremony, it was time for photos and interviews. All the other medalists were being interviewed and photographed in pairs. Only I, Liam Noth, stood alone, the target of sympathetic or probing stares from every direction. A reporter asked Adrian how he felt about our pair winning the championship again. Adrian simply smirked, the condescending curve of his mouth a painful jab. “Helen is the most gifted female partner in the world; her success is absolutely deserved.” “As for Liam…” He glanced at me with an undisguised sneer, his eyes full of contempt. “My New Year’s wish is to inherit his career luck.” His words, veiled and overt, thoroughly implied I was nothing more than a tag-along, winning only because of Helen. Adrian hadn’t always been our coach. After Helen and I started to make a name for ourselves, our original coach tragically passed away, and she recommended her childhood friend for the role. Adrian went from obscurity to a championship-winning coach overnight. But Helen merely looked at Adrian with a doting expression, as if his words were entirely appropriate. Our teammates, the second-place winners, finished their interview and hurried over, linking arms with me to show support. Amidst the rapid-fire flashes of cameras, my teammate bit out in a voice only I could hear, “Isn’t he just throwing you under the bus with that interview? Everyone knows he’s just riding your coattails.” I just smiled for the cameras and whispered back, “Don’t say anything more. We’re a team, after all. Someone might hear, and then they’ll start making up stories.” He grunted, frustrated, but said nothing further. Once the reporters dispersed, Helen gracefully approached. “Come on, let’s go train. A championship doesn’t mean we can slack off.” She naturally picked up my gear bag, her other hand instinctively reaching for my shoulder. I subtly shifted, taking the bag from her. “I can carry it myself.” She paused, then quickly regained her composure and nodded. We walked in silence to the training rink. I idly kicked loose pebbles along the path until I bumped into a soft embrace. Rubbing my head, I looked up to find Helen staring intently at me. “Are you mad?” Her directness was typical Helen. I pressed my lips together, saying nothing. She pinched my cheek, then burrowed into my chest, a muffled sound coming from above. “Didn’t I say next year’s Nationals? If you really wanted to get married, you shouldn’t have made mistakes on the ice today… Our proposal ceremony has to be absolutely perfect.” I forced back the sting in my eyes and took a deep breath, giving Helen one last chance. I pulled out my phone and scrolled to the International Skating Union’s official account. “Show me one time, just one, after a competition, that you and I were together for an interview or a photo.” “Do you have any idea how much flak I’m going to get because of what he said?” Helen paused, then after a long moment, chuckled dismissively. “You’re seriously competing with Adrian over something like this?” “You’re always in the spotlight during competitions, and everyone knows we’re a couple. I just wanted our coach’s behind-the-scenes work to be acknowledged.” “Your career luck isn’t bad at all. Isn’t winning a championship with the person you love most the happiest thing?” Helen raised an eyebrow, her eyes full of confusion as she looked at me. My palm clenched tight, a bitter ache spreading through my chest. I knew these were her true feelings. She genuinely believed I should share my glory with Adrian. “Helen,” my voice was hoarse, “I’ll be 28 in three months. It’s also our ten-year anniversary. Do you remember the promise we made when we first got together?” When Helen and I were 18, we had just moved up to the senior division. It was our first time on the world stage, and she had declared with bold confidence, “In ten years, we’ll be the world’s number one husband-and-wife team.” I paused, then pressed Helen for an answer. “Do you know what ‘husband and wife’ means?” She hesitated, then released me, her hand dismissively taking mine as she walked ahead. “Liam, in my heart, you’re already my husband.” “Don’t get hung up on formalities.” “For a champion, shouldn’t you be striving for perfection?” “Alright, come on! We’ll be late for practice!” With that, Helen let go of my hand and strode forward alone. She didn’t explain why she’d broken a public promise, nor did she try to soothe my rapidly unraveling emotions. Instead, she reframed the problem as one of achieving perfection. And I, the flawed culprit, was apparently responsible for her refusal to accept my proposal. I watched her figure shrink in the distance, the fervent passion I once held for her now turning cold. Later, at the rink, while changing into our skates, other skaters training there saw us arrive one after the other and, as usual, teased Helen and me. Helen playfully cursed them, instinctively reaching for my hand. But I subtly moved away. Her hand hung awkwardly in the air. My face was expressionless. “I’m tired.” 2 On the ice, Adrian, witnessing our interaction, scoffed and impatiently urged us to begin practice. Helen looked torn. Finally, she sighed. “You’ve just competed, so you must be tired. Get some rest.” “I’ll get on the ice first and work on the new routine with Adrian.” But just as she was about to step onto the ice, her leg retracted. She turned, looking at me with a questioning gaze. Every time before we skated, I would meticulously check Helen’s skates to ensure her safety, then give her a kiss. This time, however, I simply turned calmly, grabbed my bag, and headed back to the hotel. I dragged my heavy feet back to the hotel, mechanically scrolling through posts of Adrian’s interview on social media. Without exception, the comments were full of mockery directed at me. “Coach Adrian is right, Liam’s just being carried. Any male partner could win with Helen.” “I remember Coach Adrian and Liam are about the same age. Maybe Coach Adrian should just replace Liam! It would even save on coaching fees.” I’d been hearing variations of these words for ten years. Helen was indeed a once-in-a-lifetime talent. Countless boys dreamt of partnering with her. But she had chosen me, plain and unremarkable. I was overjoyed, almost in tears, and secretly vowed never to hold her back. I practiced relentlessly, losing sleep and feeling immense anxiety over every single mistake. Helen would tirelessly reassure me. “Enjoy the ice. I chose you because you’re the best.” “Pairs skating is a partnership; I can’t do it without you.” When people ridiculed me for being undeserving, Helen would be the first to defend me. Slowly, with Helen’s support, I too became a top male pairs skater. But all of that ended when Adrian arrived. He would scrutinize every single one of my movements under a magnifying glass, and any slight imperfection would be met with harsh criticism and taunts. I complained to Helen. Her initial comfort slowly turned into sighs. “With that attitude, how can we become the world’s number one husband-and-wife team?” For the sake of the promise we made at 18, I swallowed all my grievances, even secretly seeing a therapist and taking handfuls of medication. Even after Helen had gone to rest, I would still be on the ice, alone, repeating movements. Now, we were world champions, but our chance at being husband and wife seemed to be fading… The familiar “beep-beep” of the door unlocking echoed. My movements froze. I didn’t stir, just kept replaying Adrian’s interview video. I knew it was Helen. Adrian, to prevent us from getting too close, always insisted Helen and I have separate rooms during competitions. I would secretly slip her my key card. She had never once used it. But I could recognize her footsteps just by their sound. Seeing my screen, Helen’s movements faltered. She feigned casualness, taking my phone. “Oh, no wonder our workaholic wasn’t at practice today. These meanies got to you.” “Don’t look at these anymore. Practice more on the ice, achieve results, and really show them.” I didn’t answer her question. Instead, I asked, “How was practice today?” She paused, then offered a brief explanation. “Pretty good. Adrian and I reviewed things. A few moves might expose your technical weaknesses. We might need to adjust them later.” I rubbed my neck, which had gone numb from holding the same position, and struggled to look up at her. “Helen.” I let out a long breath. “Let’s break up.” She stopped, glancing at my phone screen, and wearily pinched the bridge of her nose. “What is this really about? Online comments? Or the fact that I didn’t let you propose today?” Her tone softened considerably, almost a playful whine. “Don’t be silly. If we break up, the team breaks up. You wouldn’t really abandon a top partner like me, would you?” She patted my shoulder and turned towards the bathroom. “Within three months,” I said to her retreating back, my voice low, “I want to propose after winning a gold medal.” 3 Her hand, which had just touched the bathroom doorknob, froze. After a few seconds, she turned around. The forced pleasantness on her face finally vanished completely. “Liam, stop messing around.” “The new season is starting. We won’t be in perfect shape within three months. Besides, in three months, it’s the prestigious Four Continents Championship, and it’s not even a sure thing we’ll take first place.” I just stared at her. “If you want to break up the team, I don’t mind…” Helen’s last shred of composure evaporated. “What’s wrong with you now? Are you unhappy with Adrian’s training plan?” She eyed me with a deep, mocking scrutiny, then let her true thoughts slip out with a cynical smile. “Liam. You should know. Without me, you wouldn’t win any gold medals. But me, even if I partnered with Adrian, I could still win gold.” A heavy stone seemed to press down on my heart. This sentence, after fifteen years of partnership, Helen had finally uttered. Her words struck me like stones. In the past, whenever she showed even a hint of negative emotion towards me, I would rush to prove myself. I had forgotten that countless top coaches and female partners had also extended invitations to me. She was indeed a top female partner, so top-tier that she allocated a significant portion of our training time to the coach, using the pretext of discussing choreography and training to be inseparable from him. She even disparaged me openly with Adrian. “Your hands are too heavy; every time you lift me, I’m terrified. You can’t eat today; you need to reduce your strength.” “How can you still not master this move? Practice for two more hours.” If I showed any dissatisfaction, she would scoff, “My harsh words are to make you stronger. A top athlete needs a powerful mindset.” I met her gaze and nodded. “Then you go partner with Adrian.” With that, I grabbed my luggage and left the hotel, ignoring Helen’s furious shouts behind me. Perhaps as punishment, she quickly finalized the process of disbanding our team and immediately announced her partnership with Adrian. Overnight, the number of people reveling in my misfortune exploded. “Four Continents in three months. Liam won’t even make it to the podium!” “Hahaha, serves him right! Time for the fraud to be exposed! Waiting for Liam’s retirement!” My teammate called me. “Dude! You’re brave! But it was long overdue. Any insider knows you’re the top male partner. Losing you is Helen’s loss!” He paused, sighing. “But what about you? Are you not participating in Four Continents? You were the champion last year. Now, without a partner, defending your title is probably out of the question…” I offered a small smile. “If he can find a male partner, why can’t I find a female partner?” “The competition hasn’t even started. Who wins the championship is still up for grabs.” 4 I avoided Helen and Adrian, choosing to train abroad. When I returned home to register my new partner, I happened to see that Helen and Adrian had recently won a domestic competition shortly after forming their team. The media swarmed them. This time, their coach wisely ceded the spotlight entirely to the pair. I twitched my lips. With a new coach, she couldn’t be bothered to trot out those grand, self-serving speeches anymore. Adrian’s performance hadn’t been flawless, but Helen was beaming with pride and encouragement. I heard her say words that Helen had once spoken to me ten years ago. I never imagined I’d hear her say the same things to someone else in this lifetime. How things had changed. Spotting me, Adrian triumphantly draped his arm around Helen. “Liam, I hear you’re here to register for pairs skating? Where’s your partner? Too shy to show her face?” Helen didn’t shy away from his closeness. Instead, she leaned in and whispered to me, “See? I told you so. I win championships no matter who I’m with.” “If you behave yourself, I’ll consider getting back together with you. Both romantically and as a team.” Reporters, sensing a juicy story, swarmed closer, their eyes glued to me, as if I was about to do something scandalous at any second. I, however, simply and politely moved through the crowd, leaving Helen with a scowl on her face. The Four Continents Championship rapidly approached. Everywhere you looked, it was all about Helen and Adrian. My teammate sent me a video. After Adrian and Helen finished their routine, thunderous applause erupted. Many people congratulated them. “Helen is amazing, as always! So talented, she’s perfect with any partner!” The person paused, seeing Helen’s pleased expression, and carefully shifted the topic. “I saw Liam’s name on the registration list… but I haven’t heard of his partner…” Adrian scoffed, a sneer on his face. “Any stray cat or dog can get on stage now?! Helen told me Liam was bragging about proposing if he won gold. He couldn’t possibly expect Helen to accept a loser’s proposal, could he?” Everyone burst into thunderous laughter. Helen smiled faintly, but there was no warmth in her eyes. “I would never do anything so embarrassing.” “Winning too many championships has gone to Liam’s head; he’s lost all self-awareness. I’ve been far too lenient with him, even making a fuss about marriage.” Suddenly, someone spoke up. “So what’s the deal with you and Liam now? No marriage? But you did promise to accept his proposal if he won, so you can’t blame him for being upset…” “Oh, come on,” Adrian said mockingly. “That was something Helen and I agreed on. It was just to test Liam’s resilience, so he wouldn’t complain to Helen all the time about how hard training was.” My palm clenched tight. I had never imagined that Helen would use something as significant as marriage as an excuse for “pressure training.” Everyone exchanged awkward glances. Someone laughed and changed the subject. “Whoa, so it looks like you and Liam are a thing of the past?” The speaker glanced at the intimately close Adrian and Helen, then suddenly slapped their forehead, realizing. “Could it be that if Helen wins gold, she’ll ask Adrian to propose instead?!” Adrian pretended to be annoyed and playfully swatted the person, but Helen just watched their antics with a knowing smile, offering no explanation. I quietly turned off the video. I changed into my costume, waiting for the announcer to call my partner and my names. I smiled at my partner. “Ready to win?”

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No one knew that my agreement to Mrs. Leigh’s request was purely for the hefty sum she offered. For three years, I revolved around Adrian Leigh like a personal assistant. He wouldn’t pay attention in class, so I’d stay up late organizing his notes and key points. If he got too close to other girls, I’d even have to cover for him with the teachers. After all that effort to get him into a prestigious university, what I got in return was a breakup. He said with disdain that, compared to the lively Hannah, I was too boring, with nothing but academics on my mind. Everyone around us was waiting to see me heartbroken, ready for a good laugh. But when I saw the fifty million dollars suddenly appear in my bank account, all I felt was relief. I calmly told him, “Congratulations,” and turned my back on the man who had consumed three years of my youth. The money was in my hands; this transaction was finally over. 1. “The star quarterback just dumped her, and she just said ‘congratulations’?!” “She hung up in less than a minute, so coldly. She must be losing her mind with sadness, right?” “Doesn’t look like it. She’s too calm, more like she’d been eagerly waiting to get dumped.” At that, someone cautiously glanced at Adrian. He had his arm around his new girlfriend, but his handsome face was dark and displeased. They quickly changed tack. “Everyone knows how long Genevieve liked Adrian. There’s no way she’s really indifferent; she must be bottling it all up inside!” “I bet she’ll come crawling back in less than three days, begging Adrian not to leave her!” Adrian’s gloomy expression softened slightly. “If she comes back and begs, I might consider forgiving her. Let’s see what she does.” I knew nothing of their discussions, dragging my suitcase towards the train station. If I had heard their taunts, I would have merely offered a cool, faint smile. If my parents hadn’t been convinced that studying was useless for a girl, that I should marry young for a dowry. If my university acceptance letter hadn’t been torn to shreds, if my drunken father hadn’t beaten me senseless, and if Mrs. Leigh hadn’t found me then, offering a deal— That if I could help Adrian get into a top-tier university, she would not only pay for my high school tuition but also give me fifty million dollars. Then I never would have chased after Adrian, the notorious rebel, being his ever-available, thankless sidekick. For three whole years. I used every means possible to transform him, a defiant slacker, into a successful student, getting him into a top-tier university. Now, with the mission accomplished, I finally had the money to leave. I was too happy for anything else. Why would I be sad because he got a new girlfriend? From start to finish, I just wanted to fight my way out of hell and create a vast new world for myself. Love was never part of the equation for me. After the school year began, I didn’t report to the university I’d been accepted to. My parents wouldn’t let me go, knowing that a student accepted into a prestigious university could fetch a high dowry. If I was going to leave, I had to leave completely. Over the three-month summer break, I passed my IELTS exam and reached B2 proficiency in French. I successfully completed my study abroad application. As I boarded my flight to Paris, Adrian sent a reconciliation text message: “Why have you blocked all my contact info?” “Genevieve, haven’t you thrown enough tantrums this summer? Even if I’m with Hannah, we’re still friends. Stop being dramatic and unblock me.” His message, from start to finish, still carried that condescending tone. As if he were certain that, just like the past three years, no matter how childish he acted, no matter how much he trampled on my feelings, I would eventually come wagging my tail back to him. I directly pulled out my phone’s SIM card, snapped it in half, and tossed it into an airport trash can. Along with that card, I discarded all the humility, calculation, and unspeakable past it represented. The plane soared through the sky, erasing all traces of my previous life. Later, my best friend told me Adrian had left comments under all my old social media posts. The content was always something like, “Are you done with your tantrum?” “It’s just a relationship, why are you so mad?” “Unblock me already!” She said, “At first, Adrian was convinced you’d come back to him. When you didn’t, he got increasingly irritable. Sometimes, just mentioning your name would make him scowl.” I listened as if hearing someone else’s story, without a single ripple of emotion. With the fifty million from Mrs. Leigh, I started anew in Paris. I chose a top design academy, grappling with language, culture, and a demanding curriculum. Everything was a new challenge, but there was no Adrian to appease, no suffocating family. There were only my paintbrushes, my designs, and infinite aspirations for the future. Years passed in the blink of an eye. Fueled by sweat and talent, my jewelry designs began to appear at major fashion weeks, winning several prestigious international awards. I was even appointed as the new Chief Designer for Lumina Company and sent back home to expand its Asia-Pacific market. My first day back in the country. While having lunch at a restaurant below the branch office, a hesitant voice spoke behind me: “Genevieve? Is that you?” I turned, recognizing a somewhat familiar girl. It was Pamela, who used to sit in front of me in high school. She stared, unashamedly appraising me from head to toe, her eyes wide with astonishment and disbelief. “Oh my god! It really is you! You’ve changed so much!” Gone was the timidity of high school and the subtle subservience of trying to please. Time and experience had given me a calm, composed demeanor. “Long time no see.” “It really is you! What a coincidence!” Pamela seemed very excited. “There’s a class reunion tonight, at the Cloudtop restaurant upstairs! Lots of our old classmates are coming, and Adrian will be there too! You have to come! Everyone will definitely not recognize you!” Adrian? That name felt like a distant symbol, one that hadn’t crossed my mind in a long time. I initially wanted to decline, but then I thought, there’s no need to specifically avoid certain things. “Okay.” The entire day was spent on the handover of the new company, so busy I hardly touched the ground. By the time I remembered the reunion, it was already late. Too lazy to go back to the hotel to change, I went straight to the Cloudtop private room upstairs in my casual clothes. Pushing open the heavy door, a cacophony of voices washed over me. The private room was large, with a huge round table packed with people. My gaze instinctively swept across the room, and almost instantly, it settled on the man at the head of the table, surrounded by adoring classmates. Adrian Leigh. He was more mature than in high school, his handsome face more sharply defined. Dressed in an expensive casual suit, he exuded a relaxed, confident air, always the center of attention. Right beside him sat a beautiful young woman, impeccably made-up and dressed in a flashy outfit, but it wasn’t Hannah. It seemed his rebellious girlfriend had also been upgraded. After a brief silence, a slightly inebriated guy was the first to recognize me. “Holy crap! Look! Adrian! Your fangirl Genevieve is here!” That shout abruptly ignited the entire private room. Everyone’s eyes, filled with surprise and schadenfreude, swiveled to focus on me. Adrian abruptly looked up, and his pupils contracted sharply when he saw me standing in the doorway. The easy nonchalance on his face instantly froze, replaced by shock and an indiscernible complexity. The girl beside him immediately sensed his change, tightening her arm around his, her gaze on me filled with scrutiny and hostility. “Genevieve?” I ignored the whispers and stares. I walked straight to the empty seat beside Pamela and calmly poured myself a glass of water. “Genevieve, long time no see!” Victoria, a classmate dressed ostentatiously, was the first to speak. “I heard you didn’t go to college back then? Well, your family couldn’t afford the tuition anyway.” “Where did you end up working all these years? You didn’t, like they said, marry an old man, did you? Your outfit today is pretty casual.” She deliberately emphasized “marry an old man,” prompting a few girls around her to giggle behind their hands. “I spent a few years abroad, just came back.” I replied coolly, not wanting to elaborate. “Oh, abroad!” Mark, another guy, picked up, his tone exaggeratedly sympathetic. “Returning expats aren’t doing so hot these days, are they? You can do shady stuff overseas, but that’s illegal here. Since we’re old classmates, have you found a job yet? Want us to help you find something?” “My uncle’s company still needs an office clerk. Requirements aren’t high, just basic computer skills! The pay isn’t great, but it’s a decent job, at least! Better than your old…” He deliberately drew out the last word, implying something. “Yeah, yeah,” Victoria immediately echoed, feigning concern. “Foreign men might like Asian women, but it’s usually just for fun.” “Genevieve, we’re old classmates, so speak up if you’re in trouble.” “Your qualifications… oh, I mean, you didn’t go to college, and you don’t have many nice clothes, so interviews might be tough. Maybe I can take you shopping for a few decent outfits? I can lend you some money if you’re short? After all, you used to be such a smart student, it’s a shame to see you like this now.” Adrian remained silent, only his fingers, gripping his wine glass, tightened slightly. His eyes were fixed on me, dark and heavy. His new girlfriend, Iris, finally couldn’t hold back. She scoffed, leaning forward slightly, her expression a mix of condescending pity and undisguised disdain. “Genevieve, right? I’ve heard about you.” “I heard you used to chase after my Adrian like a total fangirl?” “Helping him with homework, taking notes, even covering for him with teachers?” “You must have worked really hard.” She deliberately paused, savoring the eager expressions of the other classmates. “But at least you had some self-awareness, realizing that you and Adrian were worlds apart, with no future. So you ran off, though it sounds like things haven’t gone well for you?” “Now, Adrian is the heir to Leigh Enterprises, and I’ve just taken over my family’s fashion brand. I’m busy negotiating collaborations with top international design companies. If you’re in a bind, we can help you out.” I calmly sipped my water. “No need, thank you.” Iris glanced at me disdainfully, her tone shifting to one of obvious bragging. “You probably don’t know my capabilities, do you? Heard of Lumina? It’s a rising French luxury jewelry brand!” “Their chief designer is a genius who’s won international awards in Paris! Very impressive and very mysterious. I pulled a lot of strings and finally got in touch. If she could design a collaborative collection of accessories for my brand, it would definitely shake up the entire fashion world!” “Then, with a snap of my fingers, I could toss you a few scraps to live on.” Everyone immediately gasped and flattered her: “I know Lumina! Their designs have amazing taste!” “I heard that designer is incredibly good, with a sharp eye; ordinary people don’t even get noticed by her!” “Ms. Stark has such wide connections! To be able to bring in such a high-level designer, that’s truly impressive, only someone like her deserves to stand by Adrian!” Iris proudly lifted her chin, basking in their praise. This was exactly the effect she wanted to achieve with her words. “What’s the designer’s name? She sounds amazing!” someone asked curiously. “Her English name is Eileen Su, but she’s Chinese.” Iris continued to boast about the designer she spoke of. “I hear she’s very young, but incredibly talented, and holds a high position in the French design world.” “For a small brand like ours to get her on board is genuinely difficult, but I’m confident!” She leaned intimately towards Adrian. “Adrian, don’t you agree?” Adrian absently hummed in agreement. His gaze remained fixed on my face, his eyes seemingly filled with resentment, refusing to say another word. The others continued to relentlessly put me down, using it to elevate Iris. I merely picked up my water glass, took a small sip, my expression unperturbed. Just then, a soft knock came from the private room door. A young woman in a business suit, clutching a thick stack of documents, poked her head in, her face etched with urgency and respect. “Ms. Stark, I apologize for the interruption.” “I’ve brought the urgent documents you requested for the Lumina project, and about the designer…” Iris immediately pressed, “What about them? Did the designer reply? Did they agree to meet and discuss further?” Her voice was full of anticipation. The assistant, holding the documents, nodded: “I met the designer today, but she has an appointment tonight, so she’s scheduled our meeting for tomorrow.” Hearing the assistant personally confirm that she had met the mysterious designer and arranged a meeting for tomorrow, Iris’s face instantly broke into a radiant, determined smile. “Excellent!” She turned to Adrian, her eyes sparkling with triumph. “Adrian, see? I told you I could do it! I’ll seal the deal with her tomorrow!” The surrounding classmates immediately erupted in enthusiastic compliments: “Ms. Stark’s approach is truly extraordinary!” “Amazing, amazing! We’ll all be relying on Ms. Stark’s support from now on!” “Adrian is so lucky to have such a capable partner as Ms. Stark!” Amidst the flattery, Iris’s vanity was immensely satisfied. Her gaze casually swept over me, sitting quietly in the corner. “By the way, Jessica, are there any entry-level positions available at the company recently? Like for cleaning staff?” She paused, her eyes meaningfully flicking towards me. “That classmate, Genevieve, helped my boyfriend so much back then.” “I hear she doesn’t have a proper job now. As classmates, I’d like to find her a stable job, just to help her out.” The private room fell silent for a moment, followed by louder laughter and agreement. “Oh, Ms. Stark, you absolutely mustn’t! Kindness is good, but people like her, and her family, are truly best avoided!” “Exactly, exactly! You don’t know, when she disappeared without a word, her parents caused such a scene at school! They threw tantrums, blocked the principal’s office, crying and wailing, insisting the school had abducted their daughter! It even made it into the local news! The scene… ugh, it was awful! So embarrassing!” “Exactly! Her whole family is like that, utterly unreasonable! Ms. Stark, your design company is just starting; it’s a critical period. What if her parents show up at your company, causing a scene? What would you do?” Hearing this, Iris showed a look of genuine apprehension. “Is that so? Well, I’m truly sorry, Genevieve. You see, it’s not that I don’t want to help you, but my design company is just starting and not yet stable. It really can’t handle such trouble; I can’t afford to get involved with problems like you and your family.” After saying that, she deliberately leaned closer to Adrian, as if being near me would bring bad luck. Adrian only looked at me, his lips moving slightly this time, as if he wanted to say something. In the end, he frowned and held it back. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on me, a spectacle of superiority and contempt. I didn’t understand why she was so keen on finding me a job. Yet I remained calm, repeating the words I had just used to refuse. “No need for trouble, I have a job, thank you.” Iris sighed, “That job of yours, maybe you should quit it. Being young and pretty has some advantages, but… it can lead to long-term issues.” A burst of mocking laughter erupted. The assistant also laughed, but as she looked at me, the professional expression on her face suddenly froze. The thick stack of urgent documents for the Lumina project she was holding in her arms slipped, scattering across the floor. White papers lay everywhere. The private room instantly fell silent. Iris frowned in displeasure, “What are you doing? Can’t you even hold these few documents?” The assistant, however, completely ignored her boss’s accusation. She pointed at me, her voice trembling with terror. “Designer Su?! You… you’re here?!”

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