Category: English

My boss laid me off right before the holidays and refused to give me my year-end bonus. I fought him in court for half a month and finally got my money. That night, I slept soundly, clutching my phone with the beautiful bank balance on the screen. But when I woke up the next morning, I was dumbfounded. My money! My money was all gone! Overnight, the numbers evaporated. $88,888 turned into $8.88. I grabbed a knife and went straight to my boss. “Speak! Did you steal my bonus?” “It must be you, you old bastard! You conspired with accounting to claw the money back!” “My money! Give me back my money!” I nearly chopped the office to pieces before the police arrived. They checked the company’s records and found an unaccounted-for transaction. My boss hemmed and hawked, refusing to explain the source. Instead, he slapped me: “Bitch, take the money and get out!” “Don’t come scamming me again. If you call the cops one more time, I won’t give you a cent, you beggar!” I couldn’t take it anymore. Screw him! Even a saint has limits, let alone someone suppressed for eight years. In a fit of rage, I grabbed my boss and jumped off the building with him. Falling through the air, I suddenly regretted it. I need to be alive to spend the money! I was so confused! When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day my boss handed me the compensation check. 1 “Take the money and get out!” “It’s just a layoff, not your life!” Mr. Curly’s voice rang in my ears. Accompanied by a splitting headache, I realized I had been reborn. He spat towards my face while dragging me and shouting loudly. “Everyone, come look! The big hero who sued the company is back!” Instantly, my colleagues’ gazes were drawn to Mr. Curly. He pushed me in front of everyone: “This is our great hero, Bella Swan.” “Everyone, take a good look at her face. Spread the word about her later.” “After all, she’s the shameless one who ruined everyone’s year-end bonus for her own selfish gain. If you have complaints, don’t come to me, go to Bella!” Worthy of being a boss. In a few words, Mr. Curly incited everyone’s emotions. People were already pointing fingers at me. Some stopped working to glare at me. “Is she sick in the head?” “Does she think she’s cool, playing the ‘Gen Z rectifying the workplace’ card?” “She wishes she were Gen Z. She’s pushing thirty and unwanted. Even men avoid her. Disgusting trying to act young at her age!” “Exactly, a scheming old woman. The company culture is ruined by people like her. Toxic!” Vicious curses came at me, more intense than in my past life. But I didn’t care. I just wanted my money. In my past life, I had a fierce temper right after the lawsuit. Before Mr. Curly could slander me, I pulled out evidence of him docking employees’ pay for years. The employees exploded, surrounding Mr. Curly for an explanation. Forced into a corner, Mr. Curly had to pay out some money to calm everyone down, including my compensation. I deposited it that night, checking the balance repeatedly before sleeping. The next morning, I tried to buy some things for my house, but the payment failed due to insufficient funds. I thought it was a system error, but it kept failing. Opening the banking app to contact support, I froze at the number. “$8.88” Overnight, my balance went from $88,888 to $8.88. And I hadn’t touched it. A friend in accounting told me Mr. Curly was beaming today. “He looks like he’s on drugs, face glowing, smiling at everyone.” Remembering his malicious look when I left, I snapped. I took a knife to the company. Later, Mr. Curly and I fell to our deaths. During the fall, Mr. Curly screamed that I was crazy. He yelled in despair: “Bella, are you sick?! I told you that money has nothing to do with you! Why frame me!!!” “I gave you the compensation, what more do you want? What kind of grudge makes you pull me down with you…” His complaints stopped abruptly as we both crashed and died. Opening my eyes again, I pondered. Mr. Curly’s scream didn’t seem fake. He was about to die; he had no reason to lie. So who took my money? And why was he beaming? I shook my head, vision blurry. “Hey! Bella! I’m talking to you! Are you stupid?” Mr. Curly’s voice pulled me back from my memories. Under everyone’s gaze, three large sacks were placed in front of me. To disgust me, Mr. Curly deliberately changed the money into small bills and coins. Just counting it would take all day. In my past life, unwilling to be humiliated, I flipped the table and demanded a direct transfer. But in this life, I thought cash was great. Fantastic! This much money is heavy. Hard to move without strength. I’d sleep hugging these three sacks tonight. Surely my money wouldn’t disappear this time? I sat down happily, ignoring the disgusted looks, and started counting bill by bill. All day, I did nothing but squat in the lobby counting money. It got dark. The company was closing. Under the urging of Mr. Curly and Finance, I finally counted the last stack. I rubbed my waist and stood up, swaying. “Hiss… correct. $88,888. Not a penny more, not a penny less.” Mr. Curly lost his temper completely. He had never seen someone as thick-skinned as me, fussing over money to the point of losing face. I thought he should go eat sh*t. Yes, I fuss over this money because it’s mine. He, the boss, docks employees’ bonuses. Workers look forward to this bonus all year. Docking it is like killing their parents. Of course I’d sue! I strapped one sack to my chest, one to my back, and carried one in my hand. Three bulging bags. Under Mr. Curly’s disdainful gaze, I rode my e-scooter home. Home, I counted again. Still the same. I thought about today. Didn’t offend Mr. Curly too much, didn’t expose his dirty laundry. He wouldn’t risk crime to harm me. Didn’t deposit the money. It’s in bed with me. I’d feel it if it went missing. No card to be swiped, no thief sneaking in. I closed my eyes, hugging the sacks tight. This time, my money is finally mine. But when I opened my eyes the next morning, I was dumbfounded. My money! Where is my money! Where did it go!!!? The three sacks were empty. Not a dime left!!!! And my account balance was $8.88 again. Just like my past life! I fainted. What is happening? I protected my money so well, how is it gone again? How did it disappear? I couldn’t figure it out. Trembling, I called the police. The police were baffled too. “You’re saying you suspect your boss broke in and stole your money?” I nodded firmly: “Yes. My money is gone, and he’s my prime suspect.” “Besides my dispute with Mr. Curly, I haven’t offended anyone. I can’t suspect anyone else.” To convince them, I showed the judgment. “Look, officers. This is my labor dispute with Mr. Curly.” “I worked for him for eight years. He laid me off at year-end without a bonus.” “He even led the rumors against me, insulting me in front of employees, just so I wouldn’t get the money.” For insurance, I recorded everything since my rebirth yesterday. Mr. Curly’s ugly face was captured frame by frame. Now it was useful. I played it for the police, pointing at his face: “Look, when I left, he mouthed: ‘Stupid bitch, even if you take the money, you won’t keep it. It’ll be gone before it’s warm!’” “Doesn’t this show he had designs on my money? Without outside interference, how could my money vanish into thin air?” I was frantic. The more I thought, the angrier I got. I wanted to roll up my sleeves and fight Mr. Curly. But in my past life, I suffered from emotional outbursts, arguing with him instead of clarifying things with the police. Resulting in my death without getting my money back. Not good. Life first, money second. Having both is best. I took a deep breath and spoke clearly: “Yesterday, after the judgment, I asked for the money. He cursed and gave it reluctantly.” “He splashed dirty water on me in front of the whole company, blaming me for their lack of bonuses.” “Combining his final curse with his usual behavior, I reasonably suspect Mr. Curly stole the money back because he didn’t want to give it to me.” I exhaled long. God knows how hard it is to suppress emotions and narrate objectively. For this money, I’m exhausted. The officer nodded. “Yes, reasonable suspicion.” “Combined with everything, Mr. Curly has a motive…” I was about to rejoice. “Then arrest him, make him return my money…” The officer continued: “But this only proves motive. It doesn’t make him a suspect.” “Unless there is more critical, substantial evidence…” I deflated instantly. Substantial evidence? What more do you need?! The video is right there! He cursed me saying the money would be gone! Doesn’t that prove he planned it? How else do I prove he stole it?! I was dying of anxiety. I can wait, but the money can’t. What if he transfers it? Then it’s really gone! Just as I was about to cry, I remembered something. A scene flashed in my mind. I screamed in joy: “I remember! I remember! I have evidence, officer!” “This time, we can definitely catch Mr. Curly!” The officer looked over. “Ms. Bella, what evidence?” I danced with excitement, pulling the officer towards the bathroom. “You can drug test me!” “Yesterday, I drank a lot of water at the company while counting money. When I got home, I was sleepy and fell asleep quickly.” “I suspect Mr. Curly drugged my water with sleeping pills, which is why I was so out of it and didn’t notice the money being stolen!” “And this apartment was company-assigned before I rented it myself. Mr. Curly, as the boss, has a spare key!” “Officer, substantial evidence! Please help me get my money back!” I started unbuttoning my pants. I wasn’t acting. Anyone seeing this would sigh that another worker has been driven mad. The officer closed his eyes: “Ma’am, please calm down!” “I’m just a police officer. Drug tests are done by forensics. Don’t take off your pants, I can’t do this!” “Oh,” I pulled my pants up resentfully. “Then call forensics quickly. I can’t hold it much longer.” Half an hour later, the results came. “Well?” The forensic doctor nodded solemnly. “Yes, Ms. Bella is right. Her body contains a large amount of sleeping pill components. This counts as substantial evidence.” “Great! Arrest him!” Soon, Mr. Curly was brought in. Seeing me, his face turned green. “Holy mother of… Bella, you again? Are you done yet!?” “I gave you the bonus, what else do you want?” “Just because you’re unemployed doesn’t mean I am!” Speaking as if he wasn’t the one who fired me. I got even angrier. New hate and old grudges combined, I scratched Mr. Curly’s face. It took effort for the police to separate us. “Cough! Order! Order! Ms. Bella! Watch your emotions!” “Before the case is filed, Mr. Curly is just cooperating. No excessive beating!” Oh?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390986”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was the sacrifice. My brother was the prize. All because the village elders said: “A daughter’s fate is too strong; she’ll crush the son’s life force. You must use a ‘Keystone’ to suppress her!” My mother believed every word of this superstitious nonsense. If my brother coughed, I starved for a day. If he had a fever, I knelt until dawn. My mother always said, “You’re the older sister; it’s your duty to take the bad luck for him.” When I was eight, my brother’s illness worsened. The local witch, Granny Zhao, handed my mother a grey brick carved with runes: “Let her hold this brick and stay in the cellar behind the mountain for two days.” “Borrow the earth’s energy to suppress her fire, and your son will live.” My mother didn’t even blink. She pushed me down and sealed the cellar door with a stone slab herself. She thought she was locking me away for two days. She didn’t know— I became the “Keystone,” buried in the earth, never to leave. 1 “This child’s horoscope is too strong; it clashes with your son.” In the dim living room, Granny Zhao fingered my birth chart without lifting her eyelids. My mother’s hand clenched tight. “Granny Zhao, then… what can we do?” Granny Zhao finally opened her eyes, her cloudy gaze sweeping over my face. “There is a way.” She pulled a grey brick from her bundle, covered in crooked runes. “Let her hold this ‘Keystone’ and stay in the cellar for two days. Borrow the earth’s energy to suppress her fire, and your son’s illness will be cured.” My mother froze. “The cellar?” “Yes. A place heavy with Yin energy.” The witch pushed the brick forward. “But during this time, you cannot see her, cannot be soft-hearted. Once you see her, the spell breaks, and your son…” She didn’t finish, but the implication was clear. My mother stared at the brick, her breathing heavy. She took out a cloth bundle from her chest, unfolding it layer by layer to reveal the last of the family’s cash. She stuffed it all into the witch’s hands. “Hope.” She squatted down, speaking to me with a gentleness I’d never heard before. “Your brother is sick. Only you can save him.” She gently arranged the hair on my forehead. “Go with Granny Zhao to a place for two days. Just two days.” Her eyes were red, filled with a longing and pleading I had never seen. “In two days, Mom will come pick you up and make you fried chicken, okay?” I looked at her. For eight years, she had never looked at me so gently. I thought of my brother, Leo, coughing last night until his face turned red. I thought of Mom holding him and crying. If I went, Leo would get better. Would Mom smile then? I nodded. “Good girl.” She smiled, a smile of immense relief. She pushed me towards Granny Zhao. “Granny, I leave the child to you. Two days… just two days, I’ll definitely come pick her up.” Granny Zhao took my hand and led me out. Before leaving, I looked back. Leo was clinging to the doorframe, looking at me timidly, coughing softly. Mom held him, patting his back gently. Her face wore a relaxed smile I had never seen before. She seemed… to be truly looking forward to something. 2 I was taken to a deserted village, to an abandoned root cellar. The entrance was covered by a heavy stone slab, surrounded by overgrown weeds. Granny Zhao moved the slab, revealing a pitch-black hole. A smell of damp earth rushed up. “Go down.” I climbed down the wooden ladder. It was dark below, only a faint light coming from the hole above. The cellar was small, the walls damp earth, rotting straw scattered in the corner. Granny Zhao handed down a cold bun and a flask of water. And that rune-carved grey brick. “Girl, for these two days, sleep next to this brick.” She pointed to the corner. “Remember, this is to ‘suppress your fate.’ Don’t move it.” “Be good and stay put. Your mom will come for you in two days.” Thud. The stone slab above was slid into place. I heard the sound of a lock clicking, and the muffled thud of dirt and rocks being piled onto the slab. Footsteps faded away. The cellar went completely dark. Only a few weak rays of light seeped through the cracks at the edge of the slab. I waited and waited. I don’t know how long passed. Maybe an hour, maybe a day. I took a bite of the cold bun; it hurt my teeth. I missed Leo. Was he better now? Was Mom making him medicine? I wanted to go home. This thought was like water weeds, tangling around me until I couldn’t breathe. I wanted out. The cellar walls were slippery; I couldn’t reach the top. I tried pushing the grey brick. It was heavy, unmoving. But the urge to leave grew stronger. Maybe… move it, and there’s a way out underneath? Or I could use it to step up? I pushed with all my might. The brick was heavy. My arms ached, sweat poured down, and it only moved a tiny bit. There was no path underneath, only damper earth. Wind howled outside. I was scared. I wanted out now. I wanted to go home, to see Mom, to tell her I was afraid. I lay down and dug the dirt under the brick with my hands. My nails quickly filled with mud, fingertips raw. Digging and digging, I suddenly felt dirt trickling down from above. Fine sand fell into my hair, my collar. Before I could react— BOOM! The stone slab overhead, along with the heavy earth pressed upon it, collapsed! I didn’t even have time to scream. A sharp pain in the back of my head, like being hit by a heavy hammer. Then, endless darkness. 3 Strangely, it didn’t hurt anymore. I floated up lightly, like a feather. Looking down, my small body was buried under earth, rocks, and that grey brick, only a hand tightly gripping the dirt exposed. On the wrist was the red string bracelet Mom braided for me. She said red wards off evil and keeps you safe. Now, the red string was piercingly bright against the grey-black mud. I floated in mid-air, looking at the small mound below, feeling suffocated. I wanted to dig the dirt away, but my hand passed through it emptily. Was this… a superpower?! Then I could go home quickly. As soon as the thought rose, wind rushed in my ears. In the next instant, I was standing at the kitchen door. Mom was busy at the stove, chicken soup simmering in the pot. Leo sat on a small stool, holding a bowl of soup, sipping it slowly. His face… really seemed a bit better than yesterday. “Mom, this soup smells so good.” “Drink more if it’s good.” Mom smiled. “Mom will make it for you every day.” She turned to look at the calendar on the wall and crossed off a day. “One more day, and Hope can come back.” She whispered, as if to herself. “And Leo will be completely cured.” I floated to her, wanting to grab her hand. “Mom, I’m back.” But her hand passed through my transparent body, picking up the salt jar to sprinkle some into the soup. “Mom, the cellar is so dark, I’m scared.” I spoke again, louder. She tasted the soup, nodded in satisfaction, hearing nothing. Night fell. Leo lay in bed, tossing and turning. I floated by his bed, wanting to tuck him in, but couldn’t touch the blanket. “Mom…” He suddenly cried out softly, voice trembling. “I dreamed Sister fell into a black hole. She was calling for help, but I couldn’t reach her…” Mom pushed the door open and sat on the bed. “That was a dream, not real.” “When is Sister coming back?” Leo sat up, grabbing Mom’s hand. “Mom, go bring her back, okay? Go now.” Mom patted his back gently. “Didn’t we agree? We’ll pick her up in two days.” “I don’t want two days! I want now!” Leo’s tears fell. “I miss Sister… I want her to tell me stories…” “Leo, be good.” Mom’s voice grew stern. “It’s late. After tomorrow, I promise I’ll take you to pick up Sister.” Leo slowly lay down and closed his eyes. Mom tucked him in, sitting by the bed, humming a lullaby. It was the tune she used to hum for me when I was little. I floated beside her, humming along. No sound. I felt this night was exceptionally long. 4 Dad came back late at night. He heard Leo was critically ill and rushed back from the city where he worked. “Where’s Leo?” he asked, putting down his luggage. “Sleeping,” Mom came out of the room, lowering her voice. Dad sighed in relief, then looked around. “Where’s Hope? Sleeping too?” The air went quiet for a second. “She went to her aunt’s house.” Mom turned and walked to the kitchen. “I’ll make you noodles.” “Which aunt?” Dad followed her. “I don’t know about this.” “A distant one, you don’t know her.” Dad stood at the kitchen door. “Linda, tell me the truth.” “What truth?” “The talk in the village.” Dad’s voice deepened. “I heard it all.” “What did you hear?” Mom turned abruptly, spatula in hand. “They say you sent Hope away! Said her fate clashes with her brother!” Dad raised his voice. “That’s nonsense!” Mom’s voice became shrill. “Hope is my daughter! Why would I send her away!” “Then where is she?!” Dad stepped into the kitchen. “Tell me, which aunt’s house? I’ll go get her now!” “No!” Mom blocked him, voice shaking. “David, you can’t go!” “Why?!” “Because…” Mom’s eyes turned red. “Because Leo just got better!” “Granny Zhao said Hope has to stay away for two full days to suppress the fate, so Leo’s illness can be rooted out!” “If you go now, all is lost!” Dad froze. He stared at Mom like he didn’t know her. “You… you really believe that witch’s nonsense?” “It’s not nonsense!” Mom cried. “Look at Leo yourself! We spent so much money on doctors before, did it help? No!” “But as soon as Hope left, he got better! That’s a fact!” “That’s a coincidence!” “There are no such coincidences!” Mom grabbed Dad’s arm, nails digging into his flesh. “David, we only have one son… if he dies, I won’t live either…” Dad looked at her, his expression changing from anger to confusion, finally to deep exhaustion. He slowly pried Mom’s hands off. “Linda, Hope is our child too. She’s only eight.” “I know…” Mom sobbed. “I know… just two days… just two days…” “What if something happens?” Dad’s voice was very soft. “Have you thought about that?” Mom stopped talking, just crying. Dad turned and walked out of the kitchen, standing in the yard for a long time. I floated to him, wanting to hold his hand. My fingers passed helplessly through his rough palm. “Hope…” he whispered suddenly. “Dad will come get you first thing tomorrow morning…” I wanted to tell Dad I was right here, but he couldn’t hear. 5 In the second half of the night, Mom didn’t sleep. I floated into their room and saw her sitting at the vanity, holding my plastic hair clip. Red, with a small plum blossom. She stroked the flower over and over, gently. Then she pressed the clip to her chest and closed her eyes. After a long time, she put the clip away under her pillow. She rolled up her sleeve, revealing her wrist. There was a red string bracelet, identical to the one on my hand. Last winter, she braided two from the same ball of yarn. One for me, one for herself. She said, “Red wards off evil, keeps us safe.” Now, the string on her wrist was a bit worn. She rubbed it gently with her finger, round and round, murmuring: “Hope… just wait one more day, Mom… will come get you…” An urge surged in my heart. I wanted her to know I was here. I floated in front of her, staring at the red string on her wrist. If… if I could make it move? I focused all my spirit, imagining the red string was my finger. “Move… Mom, I’m here…” I chanted in my mind. The red string hung still, no reaction. I tried again. The third time, using every ounce of will, almost screaming: “Mom—!” The end of the red string trembled… ever so slightly. Mom looked down at her wrist. She froze, raised her hand, felt the air, touched nothing. Her eyes were confused. “Strange…” She shook her head, forcing a bitter smile. “My eyes are playing tricks…” She rolled down her sleeve, covering the red string. Lay down, closed her eyes. I floated above her, watching her face. In the moonlight, her brow was slightly furrowed, like she was having a bad dream. I wanted to try again. But suddenly I felt exhausted, too tired to even float. It took so much strength to move the string just once. And even if it moved, she would only think her eyes were playing tricks. 6 Early the next morning, Leo woke up. Instead of sleeping in, he ran barefoot to Mom and Dad’s door, banging on it. “Mom! Mom! Let’s go get Sister! You said we’d go!” Mom opened the door, eyes swollen. She squatted down, patting Leo’s head. “Leo, it’s only the second day. We’ll go tomorrow.” “No tomorrow! Today!” Leo’s tears gushed out. “I dreamed of Sister! She was crying! She said the cellar was dark, rats were biting her feet!” Mom’s expression froze. Leo grabbed Mom’s hand. “Mom, let’s go get her now, please…” Dad walked out of the room, face dark. “Linda, did you hear? Hope is crying cold, hungry, wanting home.” “That was a dream… kids dream randomly…” Mom’s voice was weak. “Dream or not, we’ll know when we look.” Dad turned to the gate. “I’m going now.” “No!” Mom rushed to block him. “You can’t! Granny Zhao said it must be two full days!” “Move.” “David! If you dare go today, I… I’ll leave with Leo!” Mom’s voice turned sharp. Dad stopped, turning to look at her. That look was like seeing a stranger. He spoke word by word: “Linda, if something really happened to Hope, do you think you can still stay in this home?” Mom froze. Leo tugged Dad’s pants, looking up. “Dad, I’m going with you to get Sister!” Dad bent down and picked Leo up. “Okay, we’ll go together.” “No!” Mom lunged, trying to grab Leo. “Leo can’t go! He just got better, can’t be agitated!” “Speak! Where is the cellar?!” Dad stared at her. “Exact location.” Mom looked at Dad, then at Leo, lips trembling, tears flowing non-stop. Finally, she collapsed on the ground, covering her face: “West of the village… deep in the abandoned village… old locust tree… under the tree…” Dad didn’t wait for her to finish, carrying Leo out. “Wait!” Mom scrambled up, stumbling after them. “I’m coming too… coming too…” The abandoned village was more desolate than imagined. Half-human-high weeds grew among ruins. Wind blew through, making woo-woo sounds, like crying. Leo hugged Dad’s neck tight. “Dad… I’m scared…” “Don’t be scared. We get Sister and go home.” Dad’s voice was gentle, but his arms holding Leo were tense. Mom followed behind, stumbling. Finally, they saw the old locust tree. “Where?” Dad asked. Mom pointed to a raised patch of ground behind the tree, voice barely audible: “There… the stone slab…” Dad put Leo down and walked over. “Hope?” Dad knelt, slapping the stone. “Hope! Are you in there? Dad’s here!” No response. Dad started moving stones, digging dirt. Mom stood nearby, watching blankly. Leo ran over, squatting by Dad, digging with his small hands. “Sister! Sister! Dad and I are here to get you!” The slab was finally pushed away. The cellar opening appeared, pitch black, like a giant mouth. Dad turned on the flashlight, beam shining in— Illuminating collapsed earth and bricks. Illuminating scattered straw. Illuminating… a small hand sticking out of the dirt. On the hand, a red string bracelet…

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391004”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

To go undercover in the largest crime syndicate in the Southern state, I turned to the streets the very next day after being expelled from the police academy. My boyfriend broke up with me, saying I was an embarrassment. My best friend cut ties with me, scolding me for my self-destruction. Even my father, who used to dote on me the most, disowned me. I remained unmoved, continuing to sink into the darkness. In my third year on the streets, I finally infiltrated the syndicate. That day, my father wept bitterly as he severed our relationship, declaring he no longer had a daughter and wishing I were dead. For seven years, I never had a good night’s sleep, tormented by my conscience almost daily. Finally, three days ago, another failed mission by the syndicate led them to discover my true identity. After transmitting the core evidence, I was tortured to death for ten grueling hours. My soul wandered, eventually returning to my father’s side. 1 I hadn’t seen my father in years, and his hair was completely white. His once upright posture was gone. From a distance, he looked as if he were carrying a mountain on his back, aged and hunched. A neighbor, Mr. Miller, saw my father and initiated a conversation with a smile. “Hey, Arthur, hasn’t your daughter come back this year?” “The streets are dangerous. Hope nothing happened to her.” My father’s calm face immediately darkened upon hearing this. He gave a cold snort and cursed loudly. “I haven’t had a daughter for ten years.” “Even if I did, she wouldn’t have survived until today. She should’ve been dead long ago.” As if still unsatisfied, he stomped his foot and yelled. “I, Arthur Sterling, served in the military when I was young, and worked hard at the factory after my honorable discharge. I’ve lived a clean life. How could I raise such an animal?” “Her death would be her greatest contribution to the Sterling family.” Hearing this, a sharp pain shot through my heart. It hurt more than the thousand cuts the crime syndicate inflicted on me. I could count the times I’d been home these past years on one hand. But every time I saw my father, the words I heard were exactly the same. “You scumbag, society’s reject, what are you doing back here?” “You’re not welcome here. Get the hell out.” “Dad, it wasn’t easy for me to come back. Just let me have a meal with you.” “I promise I’ll leave right after I eat. I won’t bother you.” I would hug my father’s arm and act spoiled, not expecting him to dote on me like when I was a kid. I only hoped for a little more time with him. But his face would remain grim, and he would throw the garbage from the doorway right at my face. Old wrappers and leftover food would cover my entire body. Seeing this, the neighbors would point and whisper. “Arthur is too ruthless. He won’t even have a meal with his daughter.” “What do you know? This girl looks docile, but she’s no good. She leads gangs to cause trouble outside, doing all sorts of bad things.” My face burned with shame. Looking at my furious father, I stayed silent for a moment before turning to leave. Covered in sour stench and garbage, I sat on the steps outside all night. Although I felt wronged, I didn’t blame him. My father served in the military when he was young, but was forced to medically discharge due to an injury, becoming a factory worker. When I was little, he often said that if he hadn’t been injured and discharged early, he would have become a glorious police officer. Other kids listened to fairy tales before bed, while I listened to my father’s military stories. To make up for my father’s regrets, I studied hard and, living up to expectations, got into the police academy. The sound of sneers interrupted my thoughts. Looking at their mocking faces, I knew these neighbors were doing it on purpose. Everyone in the neighborhood knew that Arthur’s daughter was expelled from the police academy for insubordination, throwing her bright future down the drain. And Arthur, who used to be so proud of me getting into the academy, became everyone’s laughingstock. When he was younger, Mr. Miller was often caught by my father for petty theft, becoming a regular at the police station. Their relationship had never been good, so his words were extremely targeted. Hearing my father’s words, he laughed heartily, his eyes full of mockery. “Arthur, what kind of talk is that?” “No matter how much of a scumbag she is, she’s still your seed, your own daughter. You can’t hide from that.” My father’s face turned ashen, his chest heaving continuously. He gritted his teeth, seemingly using all his strength. “I don’t have a daughter like that. What she has done is unforgivable.” “God will take care of that evil creature sooner or later.” After speaking, my father hurried away, his steps slightly staggering. The neighbors laughed loudly. Floating beside my father, my eyes were red. When he was young, he was respected wherever he went. Now, in his old age, he was being humiliated because of me. I watched helplessly as the downward curve of my father’s mouth trembled slightly, and his eye rims slowly turned red. It felt like ten thousand blades piercing my heart. I knew he couldn’t hear me, but I still stood by his side and tremblingly said the words I had held in my heart for a long time. “Dad, I’m sorry.” 2 Returning home, my father sat on the sofa, panting heavily. Fine sweat covered his forehead. A moment later, he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. My father carefully unfolded it. I froze for a second before realizing what it was. It was my admission letter to the police academy from back then. More than a decade had passed, and it was already covered with the mottled traces of time. The once bold and vigorous characters were now blurred and illegible. But my father picked up his glasses from the table, sat up straight, and softly began to read. “Student Sarah Sterling, you have been admitted to our academy… to become a prospective cadet…” My father’s voice grew louder, and waves of sorrow welled up in my heart. My whole being was enveloped in grief; I couldn’t catch my breath for a long time. Scenes from the past flashed before my eyes. I remember it was a summer day, the sweltering heat making my clothes stick tightly to my body. I held the admission letter in my hand and ran towards home. The cool breeze brushed my cheeks, as if the whole world were cheering for me. “Dad! I got in! Dad! I got in!” I yelled all the way, attracting the neighbors’ attention. My father, in his prime then, ran out from the hallway immediately. His face was filled with joy. His big hands held my admission letter, looking at it over and over again. The bright light in his eyes was as scorching as the sun in the sky. “Good girl, you are Daddy’s pride. Daddy is proud of you.” He grabbed my waist and lifted me high. That was the closest I ever got to the sky. I remember that day, my father took me walking around the neighborhood for a whole day. He showed the admission letter to everyone he met, proudly patting his chest. “Police academy, my daughter, got in.” Every neighbor who saw it gave a thumbs up, smiling and saying. “Like father, like daughter.” “Arthur’s daughter is just as good as any man, getting into the police academy, making us proud.” But no one expected that in the second year, I would be expelled from the academy for insubordination. The day I came home carrying my luggage, my father’s eyes were bloodshot. It was the first time I ever saw him cry. He clutched his belt tightly in his hand, only whipped me twice, then sobbed and started whipping himself. “It’s because I didn’t educate you well, it’s all my fault.” That night, my father and I hugged each other and cried the entire night. From that day on, my father completely lowered his head in front of the neighbors. His straight back also gradually bent. He stayed cooped up at home all day, no longer going out to chat and play chess like before. He was afraid they would talk about me, afraid to hear their mockery, and even more afraid to hear their pity for me. Just like that, ten years passed. And I took a path completely opposite to before—joining the underworld. At first, my father scolded me, beat me, used all the words and logic he could think of to persuade me to turn back. But later, seeing that I never changed, he became completely desperate. He cut off all contact with me and changed the locks on the house. Even if I waited outside all night, all I got was his hateful glare. The father and daughter were no longer as harmonious as before, completely severing ties like enemies. So, when I saw this admission letter, I simply couldn’t believe it. He actually still kept it. A long-standing bitterness, buried deep in my father’s heart for ten years, enveloped me. I seemed to see him in countless days and nights, holding the admission letter and crying bitterly. Everything from before shattered all my father’s pride, and the image of him crying bitterly hit me right between the eyes like bullets. 3 Time ticked by minute by minute. My father just sat blankly on the sofa, from dawn to dusk. He only snapped out of it when his stomach growled. He stood up shakily, walked to the kitchen, and opened the fridge. It was packed full of ingredients and cooked dishes. I was startled; I had prepared all these for him three days ago. Perhaps it was my sixth sense acting up. Three days ago, I had an inexplicable urge to go home. I bought bags and bags of things and stuffed them all into the fridge. The old man still looked at me with disgust, yelling repeatedly to kick me out. “Take your things and get out.” “The Sterling family doesn’t need a scumbag like you. Your things have blood on them, and they stink.” The old man cursed harshly, but I was already used to it. I just replied calmly. “If it stinks, just soak it in ginger and scallion water.” I took the ingredients into the kitchen, silently cooked a table full of food, and then smiled again. “Dad, I’ve never drank with you before. How about a couple of shots?” I don’t know why, but that day my father surprisingly didn’t chase me away. Instead, he sat at the table with a grim face. Father and daughter face to face, sitting at the table, yet not knowing how to start. I drank a few cups by myself until the alcohol kicked in, then turned to look at my father. “Dad, it’s been ten years. I know I’ve embarrassed you out there.” “But whether you believe it or not, I’ve never done anything bad.” “Your daughter… your daughter really has her own difficulties.” Hearing this, before the shot glass even touched his lips, my father smashed it onto the floor with a bang. “Unavoidable difficulties? I’m old, but I’m not blind.” “What difficulty makes you disobey superior orders and give up being a police officer?” “What difficulty keeps you from coming home for ten years, hanging out in the underworld?” “What difficulty makes you an expert in eating, drinking, whoring, and gambling? Making you a societal reject?” My blood rushed madly out of shame. I could feel the heat all over my body, but I couldn’t utter a single word. I wanted to shout to my father that I wasn’t really in a gang; I was an undercover cop. But the words reached my lips and I simply couldn’t open my mouth. My father’s emaciated, dry hand slammed heavily on the table. His eyes flashed with tears and anticipation. “Speak! If you really have difficulties, can you not even tell me?” I remained silent, which my father took as being speechless. He flipped the table over, glaring at me with eyes full of unwillingness, questioning me loudly, every word bleeding. “Let me ask you, how did I teach you when you were little?” “Be down-to-earth in everything you do, and have a clear conscience.” My father hit his chest hard, making dull thuds. “And what did you do? Do you have a clear conscience?” After saying that, my father slapped me across the face. My ears buzzed, and the grievances accumulated over ten years instantly erupted. I stood up abruptly and yelled at my father, losing control. “I, Sarah Sterling, have a clear conscience regarding everything I’ve done.” My father looked at me, trembling all over, his eyes full of disappointment. He stumbled backward a few steps. Seeing this, I quickly tried to support him, but he avoided me. “Dad…” I called out softly, but he shook his head, as if looking at a stranger. “Don’t call me Dad. You’re not my daughter.” “My daughter died ten years ago.” Speaking of this, he looked at me, gritted his teeth, and squeezed a few words through his teeth with all his might. “You killed her.” After that, he shoved me out of the house. My vision blurred as I fled toward the nearby woods. I clutched the phone in my hand and uncontrollably dialed that number. Before the other party could speak, I said, crying. “I’m begging you, I don’t want to be an undercover cop anymore. I want to be a police officer in the light.” “After this mission is over, will you reinstate my file?” A sigh came from the other end of the line, followed by a pause. “Sarah, you know you’re the only one who has successfully infiltrated the crime syndicate…” “Just one more year. In a year, we’ll launch our final strike against the syndicate…” “One year, one year, one year.” My voice grew louder. “One year after another. It’s been ten years, Captain. I’m really tired.” After saying that, without waiting for a reply, I hung up the phone and burst into tears. Watching my father shove the cold food from the fridge into his mouth, a pang of sorrow flashed through my heart. A knock sounded on the door. My father looked at the door, then at the food on the table, and quickly dumped it into the trash can. He took a few deep breaths before walking over to open the door. “You bastard, I said you’re no longer my daughter.” “Don’t ever come back.” Just as my father finished speaking, he saw several police officers in uniform standing at the door and froze. The officers instantly stood at attention, their eyes red, and called out. “Bringing Comrade Sarah Sterling home.” 4 Seeing the police, my father subconsciously frowned. “What has Sarah done now?” He looked past the officers, seemingly searching for me. “I’ve already kicked her out of the house. The Sterling family has no place for a societal reject like her.” “You don’t need to bring her back here. This isn’t her home either.” My father’s face flushed with anger as he spoke, moving to close the door. The leading officer gently held the door and shook her head. Before she could speak, her eyes reddened. She looked at my father, her voice trembling. “Mr. Sterling, we are Sarah’s colleagues.” At these words, my father froze in place. He didn’t make a move, his mouth wide open in disbelief. Even though it was plain English, strung together, it was hard for an old man like him to comprehend. “What did you say?” The officer opened her mouth, trying to say something, but couldn’t get the words out after several attempts. The officers behind her even started sniffing. My father seemed to realize something, his body trembling. The leading officer quickly supported him, and my father tightly gripped her arm. Like grasping at a lifesaver. “What you’re saying is fake. She told you to lie to me, didn’t she?” “Was she sentenced to life in prison, and that’s why you’re willing to help her?” The officer just took a deep breath, then said word by word. “Mr. Sterling, Sarah died gloriously in the line of duty during an undercover mission to dismantle a crime syndicate.” My father didn’t hear a single word they said next. He just stood there, blankly repeating one sentence. “Died gloriously in the line of duty.” He couldn’t believe that the daughter who was sitting across from him drinking just a few days ago had now passed away. He also didn’t understand why the daughter who he thought should have been struck by lightning just a few days ago, the daughter he hated and resented for ten years, suddenly transformed and was worthy of the words “died gloriously.” The “clear conscience” I mentioned at the dinner table a few days ago struck his heart like lightning. He understood the true meaning behind my words. He knew I never failed his expectations and had always been striving to fulfill them. Even when cursed by everyone around me, I never changed, walking alone in the dark to release the last bit of light in my heart. Father and daughter share a deep bond. At this moment, he seemed to experience the bitterness in my heart, no longer able to control his expression. The old man, who hadn’t cried more than a few times in his life, was now sobbing uncontrollably. The officer beside him supported my father, barely keeping him from collapsing onto the floor. Her voice was low as she looked at my father and advised him. “Sir, don’t be sad. You need to bring her home.” Hearing this, a glimmer of light flashed in my father’s eyes, and he muttered. “Yes, I need to bring her home.” My father followed the officer, walking unsteadily. This scene was coincidentally witnessed by Mr. Miller passing by. He leaned in and started mocking. “What, your daughter got caught committing a crime and is going to be executed?” “Hahahaha, crying like a baby. Are you going to see her for the last time?” “It seems you got your wish. God helped you take her away.” My father didn’t react to his words at all. He continued walking forward, his whole body numb. He had only one thought in his mind now. To see me one more time. The police officers beside him couldn’t tolerate it anymore. They clenched their fists and were about to rush forward, but were stopped by the leading officer. The officer glanced at Mr. Miller and said flatly. “Considering you don’t know the situation, I’ll let you off this once.” “Mr. Sterling’s daughter, Sarah, is our colleague. If I hear you spouting nonsense again, you can spend the rest of your life locked up.” Leaving a dumbfounded Mr. Miller behind, the group continued forward. My father followed the police like a walking corpse to my body, his face blank. A snow-white sheet covered my body, and my father just stood beside me, lost in thought. He tried to reach out and lift it several times, but it was as if someone was holding him back; he didn’t move. I knew. He was afraid that if he lifted it, it would really be me. He hoped that as long as he didn’t lift it, I would still be there. 5 After a long silence, he finally reached for the sheet with trembling hands. After all, my father was a border military veteran who had been through the wringer. As my face was revealed to the light, the crowd could no longer contain their grief and began to weep. My face was slashed with no good flesh left; my eyes were gouged out, leaving only black holes. My slightly open mouth was empty. Even after days of restoration by the mortician, my face was as terrifying as a demon’s. If it were in a horror movie, it would definitely scare all the viewers to death. I thought to myself with a morbid sense of humor, yet my heart was filled with desolation. Seeing me like this, my father knelt on the ground, his eyes vacant. He wanted to stroke my face but didn’t touch me, as if afraid of hurting me. He grabbed my hand, which had two broken fingers, and tears streamed down his face. “You bastard, unfilial daughter. I told you before, you’re not allowed to lie to me.” “Why did you try to be a hero? I… I…” The words died on my father’s lips. He seemed to recall something and fell silent again. He just knelt beside me, tightly grasping my wrist. At this moment, he was like a mountain, standing quietly by my side. His tears kept flowing, his eyes empty. I wanted to wipe away his tears, but I couldn’t touch him. I could only kneel on the ground beside him. The officer next to him shouted a tearful command to salute. Everyone turned toward me, stood at attention, and saluted. My father looked at me and smiled slightly. “Look, your colleagues are saluting you.” Yes, my colleagues were saluting me. We should have all been standing together in the bright sunlight, but now I was lying here first. Whether they could see me or not, I returned the salute. Although I hadn’t done it for ten years, I wasn’t rusty at all. Because my desire to serve my country had never diminished; in fact, it had grown stronger. But then I saw my colleagues’ eyes filled with hot tears, as if they were looking at something. Following their gaze, I turned around, and the scene before me is something I will never forget in this life, or the next. It was my father, standing tall with a straight back, returning the salute to my colleagues on my behalf. His back was as straight as when he was young. In the sunlight, it was as if he had become that proud, righteous soldier once again. The officer walked over to support my father, but my father just looked at her with an earnest expectation in his eyes. “Captain, my daughter… did she really do nothing wrong?” The officer nodded heavily, her voice hoarse. “Comrade Sarah Sterling excelled during her time at the academy, and her exam scores were the best in the state over the last ten years.” “Whether in tactical simulations or practical exercises, she was the best in the school.” “Then… was her sacrifice worth it?” My father grabbed the officer’s hand tighter, his eyes even more desperate. His fingernails even dug into the officer’s palm. But the officer didn’t flinch. Instead, she nodded and said solemnly. “Comrade Sarah Sterling went undercover in the largest crime syndicate in the state to participate in the investigation.” “During this time, she provided over a hundred pieces of vital intelligence, suffering 72 minor injuries and 18 severe injuries.” “She made the ultimate sacrifice transmitting crucial evidence against the syndicate.” “The syndicate was completely destroyed by our forces yesterday, and 163 criminals were arrested.” “The largest crime syndicate case in the state has been officially declared closed.” Amidst the silence, the officer shouted at the top of her lungs. “Your daughter, Sarah Sterling, is a true heroine, second to none.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391021”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was listening to an audiobook while on the treadmill when I suddenly received a text from a friend: “Somebody help me! I’m trapped in the stairwell!” I replied immediately: “What do you mean? Where are you?” “I was climbing the stairs at the Riverview Apartments for exercise. I got tired and wanted to take the elevator down, but I found the door to the floor wouldn’t open. The windows outside are pitch black. I went down several floors, and it’s the same everywhere!” I stopped running and looked out the window. Pitch black. “I’m climbing this building too…” 1 I met up with Chloe on the 24th floor. “What happened? Why are you wearing a mask?” Chloe shook her head. “Nothing. Let’s go down to the first floor and check the situation.” When we reached the first floor, a property manager was trying to pry open the door, while the rest of the people looked terrified. They said they were all forced to take the stairs due to an elevator malfunction and got trapped here. All the floor doors and windows wouldn’t open, and the property manager’s keys were useless. No internet, and calls wouldn’t go through. But there seemed to be a signal within the stairwell itself; we could call and text each other. A delivery guy looked fierce: “My next order is going to be late! Are you guys filming some TikTok skit? I don’t have time to play with you, open the door!” Chloe said, “If you don’t believe us, go up to the 2nd floor and look.” The delivery guy was impatient. “Why should I go upstairs!” “You’ll know when you get there.” Cursing, the guy went up the stairs. The moment he disappeared around the corner, my heart went cold. His figure reappeared on the landing leading down to the basement level. He had climbed up from downstairs. I looked at Chloe, and she nodded tremblingly. No wonder when I was on the 24th floor earlier, Chloe told me not to move and that she would come down to find me. —In this stairwell, you can’t go up, only down. Looking at the stairs leading to Basement Level 1, everyone’s faces turned pale. Chloe murmured: “Have you guys heard of the urban legend about the stairwell?” 2 There’s a saying where I’m from—man-made structures are things that violate nature. Spirits should have the sky as their blanket and the earth as their carpet. Only things living underground would hide in places untouched by the sun and moon to survive. This is why many old houses in the countryside are fine as long as people live in them, no matter how many years pass. But once the owner leaves, they collapse within a year or two. Because without human vitality (“Qi”) supporting it from within, heaven and earth destroy this unnatural enclosed space to prevent underground things from thinking it’s their territory and crawling out to cause trouble. Later, many skyscrapers were built in cities, using elevators to go up and down. But for safety, they were also equipped with stairwells. This created a problem. People use elevators; stairwells are almost unused, becoming a space without human vitality. But the stairwell relies on the skyscraper, and the skyscraper has human vitality, so it holds up. So, stairwells in high-rise buildings are easily… unclean. Someone mistakenly entered such a stairwell. Once trapped, there was no other way out but to go down. 3 “And then? What’s down there?” Chloe swallowed hard. “I don’t know. Urban legends are like that, no beginning or end.” Everyone fell silent for a moment. After a long while, a man in a suit asked, “Does the legend mention how to get out of here?” Chloe shook her head. “No, but…” “But, there must be a way out,” I murmured. “The fact that we are trapped here proves the urban legend is true, which also proves someone experienced the same thing before, escaped, and spread the story.” We can definitely get out! 4 There were eight trapped people in total. Besides those who spoke just now, there was a middle-aged couple and a guy in a tank top. “B1 to B3 are parking garages. The doors there are usually unlocked,” the property manager said. “Right, I have a car. If I have a car, I can leave!” the Suit Guy comforted himself. After some discussion, everyone decided to go downstairs. Basement 1. Because it was underground, the windows disappeared. The floor door wouldn’t open. Basement 2. The floor door still wouldn’t open. Basement 3. Wouldn’t open. “No, it shouldn’t be like this, this building only goes down to B3…” Even though she had heard the legend, the property manager’s voice was tearful. No one comforted her. Everyone stared at the same place. To the left of the stairs we came down should have been the utility room. Now the utility room was gone, replaced by something that shouldn’t exist—stairs leading to Basement 4, waiting quietly for us. Chloe took a deep breath. “No other way. Let’s go.” 5 On the first day trapped, we reached Basement 25. When we decided to proceed to B4, everyone was afraid terrifying things would appear ahead, so we rested for a long time at each floor. But unexpectedly, there were no anomalies. The stairwell was eternally clean, smelling of concrete and a hint of dampness. Cold white lights illuminated every corner, leaving no darkness. We tried every floor door; none opened. At night, we huddled together for warmth to sleep. The only problem was, food and water were running low. Day 3, reached Basement 42. To save battery, I turned off my phone, only turning it on to check the time. Food and water ran out. The middle-aged couple suddenly had low blood sugar, slowing us down. Most people were becoming anxious. Thinking about being over forty floors underground, far from human society, few could not be afraid. Day 5, reached Basement 58. Without food for two or three days, we were one step from death. There was absolutely no hope of escape. The stairwell repeated endlessly without any change. At 9 PM, the middle-aged man breathed his last. Starved to death, or died of dehydration, I wasn’t sure. Before dying, he held his wife’s hand, muttering about “karma.” I leaned weakly against Chloe: “Will we end up like this too…” Dying so meaninglessly. Why am I always so unlucky? Accidentally conceived when I already had an older brother, so I was sent to relatives to be raised after birth. Good grades in high school entrance exams, went home to get tuition only to learn my brother drowned, father cheated and left home taking all the money, mother critically ill. I could only drop out and work. Lasted four years, prepared for independent college admission, mother diagnosed with late-stage cirrhosis. Long-term stress and high-carb diet made me gain weight, ineligible for liver transplant donation. I worked two jobs a day and still had to find time to lose weight. Only half a month left until the surgery deadline, yet I was going to die inexplicably in a stairwell. Chloe’s eyes darted around. She wasn’t affected by my emotions, instead looking a bit nervous: “No, we will survive.” “Why?” The next second, I knew the answer. Suit Guy and Tank Top Guy got up and walked toward the middle-aged man’s corpse. I heard them swallowing saliva. 6 The crowd fell into chaos. The middle-aged woman hugged her husband’s body tightly while Tank Top Guy kicked her head. The delivery guy fought with Suit Guy. I wanted to help, but Chloe held me down and shook her head. I suddenly felt she was a stranger. Poor and unattractive since childhood, I had few friends. I met Chloe by chance in a local weight loss group. I had never met such a compatible friend, practically another me. We agreed to meet after successful weight loss for motivation. Who knew we would meet here by accident? Even more unexpected was seeing this side of her here. The delivery guy wrestled with Suit Guy to the edge of the stairs and rolled down. I broke free from Chloe and pushed Tank Top Guy, making him stumble. Cursing, he lunged to hit me. I took two punches, tried to fight back, but had no strength. Tank Top Guy suddenly let go. Chloe grabbed his hair, slammed him against the wall, and kicked his neck. Chloe actually wasn’t fat. Her muscle lines were distinct, like a fitness influencer. With just one kick, Tank Top Guy gasped for air clutching his neck like he was drowning, unable to move. Suddenly, cursing came from downstairs: “Don’t f*cking hog it all! Leave some for them!” Chloe helped me up. We looked downstairs and saw a bizarre scene— Suit Guy sat on the floor chewing voraciously, torn chip bags and spilled cola everywhere. By the wall stood a vending machine, filled with snacks and drinks. 7 This was Basement 59. Except for that vending machine, everything was the same as the floors above. Everyone ate and drank like crazy, quickly emptying the vending machine. We left the middle-aged man’s body upstairs and dragged the woman downstairs. She forced herself to eat a few bites, then sat in a daze. I didn’t know how to comfort her. Just one floor difference. The middle-aged man died one floor above where food was found. For the woman right now, perhaps without this vending machine, she would feel a bit better. “I know what you’re thinking.” She suddenly spoke. “I figured it out. Maybe this is really karma. “Over twenty years ago, when I was dating him, the economy wasn’t good, and there were often beggars on the street. “That winter, we met a child, just over ten years old, legs gone, wrapped in a tattered quilt, begging from us. “At that time, we had just seen news about ‘harvesting’—crippling minors and forcing them to beg for money. “He used to give a few bucks, but that day he hesitated, and we were in a hurry for a movie, so he didn’t give anything. “The child said one sentence: ‘If you don’t have money, give some food. Hungry.’ “He paused. We didn’t have food on hand. He wanted to give money but was running late for the movie, so we left. “Halfway through the movie, he dragged me out to find the child, but we couldn’t find him. “The news next day reported the child died in an alley. Starved to death. “He remembered this all his life. He always said he should have given. Regardless of ‘harvesting’ or not, if he gave, the child wouldn’t have starved. “Now, he starved to death. Consider it paying back that child’s life. “You saved his body; I should repay you. Starting tomorrow, I’ll go down first. You guys stay away from me.” She turned her head away and slept. Chloe and I looked at each other. The next day, by tacit agreement, no one mentioned the fight, and we continued downward. Soon, anomalies appeared. Every 5 floors, a vending machine would appear. We no longer had to worry about food and water. This should have been a good thing, but Chloe looked worried, and I felt something was wrong too. We went down to find a way out. If the stairwell gave us enough food and drink, wanting us to keep going down… Then is our action of going downstairs really correct? A scream interrupted my thoughts. I had never heard such a mournful wail. Subconsciously wanted to look back, then remembered the middle-aged woman was still below. Chloe and I peered downstairs. Couldn’t see anything. These days, the lights in the stairwell had always been on. But Floor 71 was dark. The wailing continued. Trembling, I turned on my phone light. The moment the light hit, the wailing stopped. There were no monsters on B71 as I imagined, only the middle-aged woman herself. She stood in front of the stairwell door, her face blood-red, result of congestion after extreme fright. The corners of her mouth were torn, mouth opened wide to an unbelievable angle, almost splitting her head horizontally in half. Eyeballs protruding from sockets, motionless. My legs went soft. Chloe, however, slowly walked to the woman and laid her on the ground. “She’s dead.” Chloe’s voice trembled. “Jade, call everyone down. I need to explain what I’ve discovered about the truth of this stairwell.” 8 “Let’s talk about the two deceased first. “The middle-aged man once caused a child to starve to death, and he starved to death here. “The woman who just died, probably figured something out yesterday. She slipped me a note writing about this event: “When she was little, she prided herself on being brave and liked to scare playmates at night. “She had a younger sister with congenital heart disease. “On the night of the second day of Lunar New Year, she and her sister went to buy snacks. At the corner on the way home, she scared her sister. “Her sister died. “Now she is dead too. “I don’t know what she saw before she died, but judging from the way she died, she saw something beyond human endurance and was scared to death. “This couple, both died of karma. “Not only that, every time something happens, the stairwell changes a bit. “After the man died, a vending machine appeared every five floors. “The woman died, and there will be corresponding changes too. For example, the lights on this floor are broken now. “The floors below might not have lights anymore. “We will advance in darkness, slowly meeting each person’s karma, until we all die—this is the truth of the stairwell. “But Jade said before, since the legend of the stairwell spread to the outside world, it means someone entered here and escaped successfully. “There should be a way for us to survive. “I haven’t guessed the specific method yet, but I suggest from now on, everyone confesses their crimes to facilitate preparation. “For example, if we knew the man caused a child to starve, we should have prioritized food for him; if we knew the woman scared her sister to death at a corner, we shouldn’t have let her lead the way down. “I’ll go first. “A long, long time ago, under forced circumstances, I tried to kill someone. The other party resisted, so my face became like this.” 9 Chloe took off her mask. Everyone couldn’t help but step back. The lower half of her face was covered with burn scars, like a tattered rag. There was also a terrifying knife scar running diagonally across. I had never seen her face. Her posts on social media were all photos below the neck or from the back showing her figure. I thought she just didn’t like showing her face. Trapped for days, she kept wearing the mask. Someone asked, she said she had pneumonia and feared infecting everyone. Didn’t expect the truth to be this. Chloe looked at me apologetically: “Didn’t mean to deceive you intentionally. I always felt inferior because of this face, that’s why I worked hard on my figure. Delayed meeting you because I was afraid of scaring you.” I nodded, heart sinking. What other secrets does she have that I don’t know?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391038”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I’ve always dreaded my birthday. Every year, on that day, I had to kneel before my mother’s grave for an entire day. Mom died from an amniotic fluid embolism, the very day she gave birth to me. From then on, I became the family’s culprit. Dad hated me. My grandparents never gave me a kind look. They all said I was the one who killed Mom. On my eighth birthday, I cautiously tugged at Dad’s sleeve, speaking in a small voice, “Dad, I feel so unwell today. Can I… not go to Mom’s grave?” But Dad’s eyes turned red, and he roared at me, “Your mom died giving birth to you! If you don’t go to her tombstone and repent, how can you face her?” He wouldn’t listen to my explanations. Like discarding trash, he dropped me in front of Mom’s tombstone and walked away without looking back. Watching Dad’s retreating figure, I let out a soft laugh. Dad, when I die, will you stop hating me then? 1 Dad had long since disappeared from sight, leaving me alone at the tombstone with a pile of unburned paper money. I curled up, leaning against the cold stone. “Mom,” I whispered, “Auntie Doctor said I have a very serious illness. My stomach will hurt constantly, until I die.” As I finished speaking, the pain in my belly intensified, like a thousand ants burrowing into my flesh. The wind grew stronger, whipping my hair into a tangled mess and blowing the ashes of the paper money onto my neck. I raised a hand to wipe them away, only to feel cold sweat on my face. “Mom, when I die, will I finally see you?” “When I do, please don’t dislike me like Dad does, okay? I didn’t mean to make you die…” I lay prostrate against the tombstone, too weak to move from the pain, my gaze fixed on Mom’s smiling face in the photo. Suddenly, I remembered what my grandparents used to say. They said Dad and Mom were childhood sweethearts, growing up together, always inseparable. Later, they grew up, naturally married, and lived very happily. Grandma even said Mom was the smartest and prettiest girl on the whole street. She could sing, dance, and paint, and Dad always doted on her like a little princess. Grandma also mentioned that, as I was nearing birth, Dad was ecstatic every single day. He bought tiny clothes and toys for me in advance, telling everyone he met that he was going to be a father. But everything changed on the day I was born. Dad never got to see Mom deliver me safely. Instead, he received news from the doctor. The doctor said Mom didn’t survive an amniotic fluid embolism. Dad, who had been eagerly anticipating my arrival, instantly turned red-eyed upon hearing the news. He went wild, trying to rush into the delivery room to strangle me. It took several doctors to hold him back and save me. From that day on, I became his enemy, the murderer who killed Mom. The sky slowly darkened, and the snow fell heavier, like goose feathers drifting everywhere. I suddenly remembered Grandma mentioning on Mom’s death anniversary that it was also a day of heavy snowfall when Mom left, a cold that made everyone shiver. The searing pain in my stomach, which had been agonizing moments ago, slowly lessened as the snowflakes drifted down. I braced myself against the tombstone and slowly sat up, gazing towards the direction of home. These past years, Dad hadn’t fared well either. Since I could remember, I’d never seen Dad smile. Every day, besides work, he would stare blankly at Mom’s photo. I wanted to go back. Anyway, my remaining days were few. I might as well do something for Dad now. The house was eerily quiet; Dad hadn’t come home from work yet. I gathered the dirty clothes from the sofa into the laundry basin, poured in detergent, and scrubbed them clean one by one, hanging them on the line in the yard. My hands were red and raw from the cold, but I didn’t stop. After the clothes were hung, I took a broom and swept the entire yard and inside the house. Chinese New Year was coming soon. I wouldn’t be here for it, but I hoped Dad wouldn’t look so gloomy this year. Done with the chores, I dug out the pocket money I had saved for a long time from my backpack. Counting it, it was exactly $87.5. This was just enough to buy some groceries. Clutching the money, I walked to the market, selecting some green vegetables Dad liked, potatoes, and the occasional cut of pork belly he bought. Fearing Dad might forget, I found a sticky note and scrawled “Eat the greens soon, pork belly in the freezer,” then taped it to the fridge. With little change left, I stood outside the cake shop, hesitating for a long time before finally going in. In all my eight years, I had never had a birthday cake. My deskmate said cake was delicious, sweet, a hundred times better than candy. Today, I wanted to fulfill this one wish. I entered the shop and bought the smallest cream cake. It had a tiny strawberry on top and a single candle. Snowflakes landed on the cake box, as if celebrating with me. Back home, I carefully placed the cake on the table, gently opening the box. I didn’t eat it immediately. Instead, I copied how people celebrated birthdays on TV, clasping my hands, closing my eyes, and making a serious wish to the tiny candle. My first wish was that after I died, Dad would live happily, no longer staring blankly at Mom’s photo, no longer trapped by sadness. My second wish was that in my next life, I would still be Mom and Dad’s daughter. I would definitely be good, and I would definitely not let anything happen to Mom again. As I came to the third wish, I paused. Was it too greedy to make so many wishes at once? But I really wanted to be greedy just one more time. I knew my time was short, so for my third wish, I wanted my stomach to stop hurting. Even if it was just for these last few days, could I spend them peacefully? After making my wishes, I picked up the small fork, dug out a tiny piece of cake, and put it in my mouth. A sweet sensation bloomed on my tongue. My deskmate hadn’t lied; the cake was truly, truly sweet. I held the fork, about to take a second bite, when the front door suddenly creaked open. It was Dad, returning with the smell of alcohol on him. My heart tightened, and I instinctively pushed the cake further onto the table. As soon as Dad entered, he saw the cake. “You’re not kneeling at your mother’s grave in repentance, and you dare to come home and sneak cake? Do you deserve to eat this cake?!” No sooner had he spoken than he strode over, raising his hand and sweeping the cake to the floor. Before I could react, there was a sharp smack, and a burning pain instantly flared on my cheek. I was stunned, tears immediately rolling down my face. Dad hated me, but he had never hit me before. This was the first time. Suddenly, a wrenching cramp, more violent than any before, tore through my stomach, like countless sharp knives twisting simultaneously. The pain made me curl up on the floor, clutching my belly tightly with both hands. Dad still stood there, his chest heaving. He raised his hand, seemingly intending to strike again. I trembled with fear, begging through my tears, “Dad, don’t hit me… I won’t eat it, I won’t ever eat it again.” My words made Dad’s raised hand freeze. He stared at my pale face, and his uplifted palm unconsciously lowered. But the next second, he averted his eyes, simply snarling, “Get out, go to your mother’s grave now. Don’t come back without my permission!” I bit my lip, enduring the excruciating pain in my stomach, and slowly crawled up from the floor. Outside, the snow was falling even harder, and the biting wind felt like knives cutting my face. I hunched my shoulders, inching my way back to Mom’s grave. Kneeling before Mom’s tombstone again, I buried my head in my knees, my voice choked with tears, softly talking to Mom: “Mom, I’m sorry, I made Dad angry again.” “He saw me eating cake and shouted at me fiercely, knocked the cake over, and slapped me. It’s the first time Dad has ever hit me, but I don’t blame him. I shouldn’t have secretly come home to eat cake today.” I paused, then looked up at Mom’s photo. “Mom, but I did get to taste the cake. Even though it was just a small bite, it was really, really sweet.” “I’m already very satisfied. This was my first birthday wish in eight years, and it came true.” The snow continued to fall, landing on my hair, on my shoulders, slowly turning me into a little snowman. Looking at Mom’s picture, I suddenly felt lost. To be honest, my memory of Mom’s face was always hazy. All these years, I’d never once dreamed of her. Was Mom blaming me too, for causing her death? Was that why she wouldn’t come to see me, not even in my dreams? I couldn’t hold back anymore; large tears rolled down my face, the emotional pain spreading through me. “Mom, I really didn’t mean it… I didn’t want you to die…” No sooner had I spoken than a gush of metallic sweetness surged into my throat. A mouthful of fresh blood burst out, splashing onto the pristine white snow. The excruciating pain in my stomach instantly peaked. My vision went black, and I could no longer stand, collapsing. I don’t know how long passed before I woke up. There was no longer the biting cold, nor the heart-wrenching pain. My body felt light, like a feather. I looked down and realized I was curled up in front of Mom’s tombstone, my small body largely covered by white snow. So, I had died. I tried to move, but my body floated up involuntarily. A gust of wind carried me, uncontrollably, towards the direction of home. I drifted through the yard gate, directly towards the second floor. That small, secluded room on the second floor; Dad never allowed me near it. Every time I curiously peered towards its door, he would snap at me. But now, I passed through unimpeded. As soon as I entered the room, I froze. The walls were covered with Mom’s photos: her with a ponytail, her smiling radiantly in a wedding dress, candid shots of her cooking in the kitchen. Each photo was perfectly preserved. Dad sat on the floor, leaning against the wardrobe, tightly clutching a pale yellow sweater. His shoulders trembled violently as he murmured Mom’s name over and over: “Clara… how much longer can I hold on?” He buried his face in the sweater, crying like a helpless child: “The way I treated our daughter, will you blame me?” “But I truly couldn’t control myself. Every time I saw her, I remembered you left because of her…” “I hate her, but in reality, I hate myself. I hate myself for not protecting you.” I floated in mid-air, watching him weep, broken and helpless, and tears instantly welled up in my eyes. So, Dad didn’t truly hate me. He just mistook his guilt for Mom, his responsibility for himself, as anger towards me. All these years, he had suffered more than I had. I yearned to rush to him, to tell him I understood everything, to wipe away his tears. But my hand passed through his body again and again, unable to touch anything. I circled him frantically, desperately shouting: “Dad, I don’t blame you!” “Please stop tormenting yourself! Mom wouldn’t want to see you like this either, Dad, please cheer up.” Dad cried for what felt like an eternity, finally stopping. He staggered to his feet, walked to a cabinet in the corner of the room, and pulled out a bottle of liquor. He raised the bottle, tilting his head back to take a large gulp. The burning liquid slid down his throat, but he seemed to feel nothing, only exhaling a heavy sigh. As long as I could remember, Dad was especially fond of drinking, often getting completely drunk. But I’d heard Grandma say that when Mom was alive, Dad never touched alcohol.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391054”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

During a zombie-clearing mission, I was infected with the virus while protecting my squad. My girlfriend, Luna, the team captain, cited the need to “avoid any appearance of favoritism” and gave the only antidote to another squad member who’d been infected after sneaking out. Her eyes were red as she promised me, “Jax, trust me. I will find another antidote for you within the three-day incubation period.” I nodded, fighting back the fire searing through my veins. The next day, she actually returned with another dose. But just a second before the needle was to enter my arm, Cole, a team member who had never once set foot outside the camp, suddenly frowned. “Luna, my head… it hurts so much. I’m so scared… What if I’m infected?” In front of everyone, Luna didn’t hesitate. She handed the antidote to Cole. “Cole is one of my people. If something happens to him, it’s my failure as a captain.” “Jax, you’re my second-in-command, and you’re my boyfriend. I have to remain impartial.” I saw the flicker of triumph in Cole’s eyes and the unyielding set of Luna’s jaw, and a bitter laugh escaped my lips. Impartial? Fine. She would soon learn that without me, she was nothing. 1. When Luna handed the antidote to Cole, she didn’t even glance at me. “Cole, you take this first.” Her voice was as casual as if she were handing him a bottle of water. Cole took the vial, a smugness he couldn’t hide flashing in his eyes. Luna then passed me a small bottle of cloudy, transparent liquid. She avoided my gaze. “A suppressant. It’ll buy you some more time.” That cheap suppressant was useless for an infection as advanced as mine. My voice was calm. “You know this won’t work on me.” Luna’s eyes darted away, her brow furrowing. “Jax, don’t be difficult. Cole’s constitution is weak. If he’s really infected…” I cut her off with a cold laugh. “He hasn’t been on a single mission since he joined the team, and he doesn’t have a scratch on him. How could he possibly be infected?” Luna’s voice rose. “That’s just what you can see on the surface!” “You know the virus has a three-day incubation period! As captain, I am responsible for every single member of this team!” “You’re my boyfriend, and you’re the vice-captain. If I give the antidote to you instead of him, what will the others think of me? How am I supposed to lead this team? I have to avoid any appearance of favoritism!” The same excuse again. The grey, vein-like patterns on my right arm were slowly creeping toward my shoulder, the burning sensation under my skin growing more intense by the second. I stared at her, took a deep breath. “So, my life is less important than your reputation? And you think you can just fob me off with a useless suppressant?” Luna’s expression faltered. “What are you saying? I promise you, I’ll go to the West District research lab tomorrow. I will bring back an antidote!” “Can’t you just trust me one more time?” Before the apocalypse, back at the military academy, Luna and I were the perfect partners. She commanded, I charged. She made the plans, I executed the details. Everyone said we were made for each other. On graduation day, she stood on the training grounds and told me: “Jax, for the rest of your life, you can trust me completely.” When the world ended, I helped her build this survivor squad, willingly taking the backseat. I gave her all the credit and took all the risks. In three years, this team grew from seven people to over forty. She became the revered Captain Luna. And what did I get for it? Endless excuses about favoritism, endless promises of “next time.” If my powers hadn’t vanished when the virus took hold, making me nothing but zombie food outside these walls, I would never have pinned my hopes on her finding a cure for me. A deep weariness settled over me. “This isn’t the first time you’ve made a promise.” She grabbed my hand, her eyes pleading. “This time is for real!” “Just like every mission before, when you trusted me with your back. Jax, trust me one last time.” I looked at the hand that had once held mine tight through hails of gunfire and heard myself say: “Fine. One last time.” Luna let out a breath of relief. “Go back and rest. I’ll arrange the personnel and route for tomorrow. Everything will be okay.” I turned and walked away without looking back. The moment I was out the door, I heard Cole’s hushed voice. “Luna, he was so scary just now. Do you think he’s already…” Luna’s voice was soothing. “Don’t be afraid. He’s fine for now.” Back in the quarantine room, I leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. The fire in my right arm was intensifying. This was the second day of my infection. According to the typical progression, I should be starting to show signs of muscle stiffening and sensory decay. But I wasn’t. Apart from the heat and occasional stabbing pains, my mind was unnaturally clear. Stranger still, I could feel something inside me beginning to awaken. From the distant ruins, the roars of zombies echoed, one after another. This wasn’t the sound of a small pack. Without my powers reinforcing the camp’s outer defenses, they wouldn’t hold for long. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. Tomorrow is the third day. Luna, this is the last chance I’m giving you. 2. Just as dawn broke, I stormed out of the quarantine room. The gray veins had already crawled halfway across my shoulder. Overnight, the stench of rot in the air seemed to have grown thicker. I could feel the zombies on the perimeter closing in. Without my combat strength, it was only a matter of time before the camp fell. The door to Luna’s room was slightly ajar. I pushed it open. And froze. Luna was curled up on the simple cot, and Cole was lying beside her, both of them under the same blanket. Cole’s hand was resting on Luna’s waist. She was nestled against his chest, sleeping soundly. My mind went blank for three seconds. Then it exploded. “Luna!” I roared her name, lunging into the room, yanking Cole up by his collar, and smashing my fist into his face. Cole screamed and tumbled off the bed, blood gushing from his nose. Luna jolted awake. Seeing the scene before her, her face went white. “Jax! What are you doing?!” I pointed a trembling finger at Cole. “What am I doing?” “You’re asking me what the hell I’m doing?! Luna, look at what you’re doing!” Cole scrambled up, clutching his face and hiding behind Luna. “I… I just… I suddenly had infection symptoms last night. I was scared, so I came to talk to the captain about the antidote…” I laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. “And you needed to do that in the same bed? While holding my girlfriend?” Luna stepped in front of Cole, her eyes filled with a flash of panic, but mostly, with anger. “Jax, that’s enough! Cole really was showing early signs of infection last night. Is it wrong for me, as his captain, to look after a team member?” “We didn’t do anything!” I stared at her disheveled collar. “Luna, do you take me for an idiot?” Her voice suddenly shot up. “Look at yourself! You’re suspicious, impulsive, violent! Do you even remember that you’re the vice-captain?!” I was stunned. I remembered a time before the fall, in the academy’s infirmary. I had a 102-degree fever from an old injury flared up by intense training. Luna skipped a whole afternoon of classes to sit by my bed, changing the cloth on my forehead, feeding me water, and eventually falling asleep with her head on the edge of my mattress. When she woke up, she’d said: “Jax, if you dare die before I do, I’ll chase you to hell and beat you back to life.” Back then, her eyes held concern, a genuine fear of losing me. And now? She looked at me, and her eyes were ice. “Today’s mission is critical. I don’t have time to argue with you. Cole, get ready to move out.” Cole nodded immediately, wiping the blood from his nose as he walked out. As he passed me, he shot me a look of pure provocation. I grabbed Luna’s wrist. “You’re taking him?” Luna wrenched her arm free. “He knows the terrain in the West District.” “Jax, looking at you now, how can I possibly trust you with the team?” “You wait here in the camp. I’ll bring the antidote back.” She gathered her gear and left without a backward glance. I stood there in the empty room, staring at the cot, at the blanket that still held the warmth of two bodies. The power inside me surged violently. The gray veins instantly spread across my chest. My skin felt like it was about to split open, the burning sensation threatening to consume me. But I held it back. I clenched my fists, my nails digging so deep into my palms that blood dripped between my fingers. Luna, you chose him again. Then this is where we end. I staggered back to my room, leaning against the wall and gasping for air. I was certain now. This infection was not normal. The sound of an engine starting up came from outside. I went to the window and saw three modified off-road vehicles drive out of the camp gate. Luna was in the passenger seat of the lead vehicle. Cole was sitting in the back, right behind her. He leaned forward, saying something to her, and Luna smiled. A relaxed, unguarded smile. I hadn’t seen her smile like that in a very long time. The convoy disappeared beyond the ruins. I closed my eyes. Luna, if you’re not back by sunset today, you will regret the choice you made. 3. I waited through the burning pain until nightfall. I heard people whispering, saying they’d seen signs of an unusually large zombie horde on the move. And all I could do was watch, and wait, and hope Luna would return with the antidote. The sun dipped below the horizon. The camp flickered to life with a few scattered emergency lights. Finally, the roar of engines echoed from the distance. Three vehicles. Not one was missing. My heart hammered against my ribs. She was back. I scrambled downstairs and ran to the center of the camp. The car doors opened. Luna was the first one out, followed by the others. Cole was the last. My eyes were glued to their hands. Luna’s were empty. Cole’s were empty. The team started unloading a few supply crates, but there was no sign of an antidote case. My breath caught in my throat. “Where is it? The antidote?” My voice was a raw, hoarse whisper. The camp fell silent. Luna’s gaze flickered, then she looked away. “The antidote… We… we found it.” My heart leaped. She bit her lip. “But on the way back, we ran into a horde. Cole was scratched while he was protecting the supply truck.” “It was an emergency. I had to give the antidote to him first.” I looked at Cole. He immediately held up his bandaged hand, his expression full of guilt. “Vice-captain, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean for it to happen…” “Which hand?” I asked. Cole froze. “Wha-what?” I took a step closer. “How deep is the wound? How much did it bleed?” “Have you shown any signs of infection?” Cole’s eyes darted nervously to Luna. Luna stepped between us. “Jax! He’s already injured. Why are you interrogating him like this?” I tore open my collar, revealing the gray veins that now covered my chest. “Luna, look at me. At best, I have until midnight.” “And your ‘injured’ team member, Cole, is speaking with a strong voice and clear eyes. You call that infected?” A few of the other team members looked down. One of them, Rico, muttered under his breath, “Actually, Cole could have easily dodged it…” “Rico!” Luna snapped, cutting him off. But it was too late. I understood everything. Cole did it on purpose. And Luna had given the antidote to him. In front of the whole team, she had chosen Cole. Again. “Luna,” I said softly, “for him, you’ve abandoned me. Again.” Her face went pale. “I didn’t abandon you! I just…” I laughed, the sound hollow, the exhaustion in my voice overriding the anger. “You just had to be responsible for every team member? You had to avoid showing favoritism?” “Or is it just that you stopped loving me a long time ago?” Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Cole grabbed her arm, his voice on the verge of tears. “Luna, does the vice-captain not believe me? I really was infected, look…” He made a show of trying to unwrap his bandage. Luna stopped him. “Don’t!” Then she turned to me, her eyes filled with disappointment. “Jax, you’re disappointing me. Cole is part of this team. He was hurt. Is it wrong for me to save him?” “Do I have to let him die just to make you happy?” “You’re right. You did the right thing. A captain should be fair and just.” Luna stared at me, stunned. I watched her shield Cole, saw the triumphant smirk Cole shot me from behind her, and saw the pity and avoidance in the eyes of the others. The power inside me began to surge. But I held on. I spoke again, my voice flat and dead. “So, now that this ‘team member’ is about to turn, how does the captain plan to take responsibility for me?” The silence was deafening. Everyone’s eyes were on Luna. Her face paled and flushed, and finally, she gritted her teeth. “I’ll keep looking. There’s another lab in the North District…” “There’s no time,” I cut her off. She fell silent. Cole spoke up, his voice just loud enough for everyone to hear. “Luna, he’s too dangerous like this. What if he suddenly turns…” Luna’s body went rigid. I looked into her eyes, the eyes that had once been filled with so much love for me, and now saw only conflict and hesitation. The power inside me slammed against its cage. This time, I could barely contain it. 4. “Jax.” Luna finally spoke, her voice strained. She straightened her spine. “You’re the vice-captain. You know the rules.” “An infected person must leave the camp before they turn, or… be dealt with personally by the captain.” Dealt with personally. The words were spoken so lightly, yet they plunged into my heart like four knives. The team members around us grew restless. Some looked away, unable to watch. Some took a silent step back. A few had their hands on their weapons. Cole pressed closer to Luna, whispering, “Luna, you have to think of the whole team… The way he is now, what if he really does turn all of a sudden…” “Shut up,” I snarled at him. Cole flinched and ducked further behind Luna. She took a deep breath. “I’m giving you a choice. One, leave now.” “Two,” her hand moved to the dagger at her hip, “I’ll help you.” Help me die. I looked at the hand gripping the dagger, the same hand that had held mine as we walked through the academy’s tree-lined paths, the hand that had clung to mine on the first night of the apocalypse, refusing to let go. Now, it wanted to end my life. The power inside me churned madly. The gray veins crawled across the left side of my face. I took a deep breath. The pain kept me ruthlessly focused. “I choose one. I’ll leave.” My voice was so calm it surprised even me. Luna visibly relaxed. But Cole spoke up again, louder this time. “Luna, we can’t just let him go! His gear, his supplies—they belong to the team! What if he gets taken by zombies with all that equipment…” Luna frowned. “Cole! That’s enough!” Cole raised his voice. “I’m just speaking the truth!” “He’s not the vice-captain anymore, he’s an infected! Why should team resources be wasted on an infected?” A few of the others exchanged glances. Some nodded, some shook their heads. Just then, a short, piercing scream cut through the night from the camp’s perimeter. Everyone whipped their heads toward the sound in alarm. Luna immediately sent a few members to investigate. Then, she looked at me, her expression a tangle of emotions. She struggled to speak. “Jax, your gear… you have to leave it behind.” I laughed. I laughed until tears pricked my eyes. I nodded. “Fine. It’s all yours.” I started to strip off my gear. The tactical vest, the combat knife, the backpack, the food, the water. With each item, I threw it onto the ground. The clatter of metal was jarring in the silence. Luna turned her head, unable to watch. Cole’s eyes, however, lit up, staring at the pile of equipment like a starving wolf eyeing a piece of meat. When I was done, I was left with nothing but the simple combat fatigues on my back. “Is that enough?” I asked. Luna’s lips trembled. She couldn’t speak. Cole eagerly cut in. “Yes, that’s enough! Luna, hurry, make him leave!” Luna finally looked at me, something flickering in her eyes. “Jax, I’m sorry, but I had to…” “Don’t say it,” I interrupted. “As of today, we’re even.” “Luna, you’d better figure out how to hold this camp together, and protect your people, without me!” Her body jolted. I didn’t look at her, or anyone else, again. I turned and walked towards the camp gate. The gray veins now covered half my face. The power inside was a raging storm, threatening to tear me apart. Every step felt like walking on knives, but I walked straight, and I didn’t look back. Behind me, I heard Cole’s excited voice. “Luna, we can redistribute all this gear…” Followed by Luna’s choked command: “Shut up!” I walked out of the camp and into a section of ruins I had scouted days ago, a place that was relatively safe. The power inside me finally broke free, exploding outward. An agony unlike anything I had ever known shot through every inch of my body, as if my bones were being shattered and reformed. I collapsed to the ground, curling into a ball. The gray patterns writhed beneath my skin, which cracked, bled, scabbed over, and split open again in a horrifying cycle. The roars of zombies grew closer. But I couldn’t move. My consciousness was fading, my body was on fire. Luna, Cole, I thought, I’ll be waiting for the day you come begging. And then, I was consumed by darkness.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391070”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1. My exceptional work had brought in millions for the company. Mr. Cruz, my boss, promised me a ten-thousand-dollar year-end bonus. But on the day the bonuses were handed out, he only gave me an envelope. Inside was his autographed photo. Just then, cheers erupted from my colleagues nearby: “Wow, my bonus is eight hundred and eighty dollars!” “Eight hundred and eighty? Mine’s eighteen hundred and eighty!” “Long live the boss, so generous!” Many people looked over at me. “Vivian, what did the boss give you? Is ten thousand in cash or gold bars?” I waved the autographed photo in my hand. My colleagues blinked in confusion, then a ripple of schadenfreude spread across their faces. I turned to Mr. Cruz. “Mr. Cruz, this isn’t a joke, is it?” He looked at me sternly. “What? Is my autographed photo not worth ten thousand dollars?” … Realizing Mr. Cruz genuinely intended to fob me off with a signed photo, my face fell. Whispers from my colleagues reached my ears. “Haha, Vivian just got played by Mr. Cruz.” “Serves her right. If she really got ten thousand, I wouldn’t be able to sleep from jealousy.” “But Vivian did work incredibly hard last year. Without her, our company wouldn’t have made so much money.” “What good is hard work? If the boss doesn’t like you, all that effort is for nothing.” I gritted my teeth, fuming, and returned to my cubicle. Staring at Mr. Cruz’s greasy autographed photo, the more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I crumpled it into a ball and tossed it into the trash. Just then, I heard Mr. Cruz’s emotionless voice. “Vivian, step into my office for a moment.” Holding back a surge of anger, I entered his office. He sat in his executive chair, slowly sipping tea, saying nothing, leaving me to stand there. A few minutes later, he finally said, his voice low, “The year-end bonuses were distributed, and I noticed you seemed a bit… displeased.” I didn’t bother with pleasantries. I just nodded. Of course. A ten-thousand-dollar bonus turning into an ugly photo of an old man? Anyone would be displeased. Mr. Cruz sighed. “Vivian, you still haven’t grasped my deeper meaning.” I blinked, looking at him, puzzled. Mr. Cruz continued, “You’re still young. You need to take a long-term view, not just focus on material things. Your eyes shouldn’t only be on money.” I almost laughed out loud. My eyes shouldn’t only be on money? I worked to earn money. Though I didn’t say it, my disdainful expression was not lost on Mr. Cruz. He snorted. “Vivian, you still don’t understand what I’m trying to say.” “Your primary task right now is to learn, to gain experience, to build your network.” “A ten-thousand-dollar bonus is indeed a lot. But compared to connections, it’s nothing.” “With good connections, let alone ten thousand, millions, tens of millions, are all within easy reach.” He stood up, patted my shoulder. “Vivian, do you think I give out my autographed photo to just anyone?” “This is my seal of approval, proof that I consider you one of my inner circle.” I remained silent, but quietly clenched my fists. Again with the empty promises. From the day I joined the company, Mr. Cruz always told me to work hard, saying he wouldn’t shortchange his “own people.” What followed was unpaid overtime, no holidays… a year of working day and night, only to receive a few platitudes and no tangible benefits. So, being one of his “own people” meant becoming a patsy. This time, I wouldn’t tolerate it. I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “Mr. Cruz, today I received your photo. So, I’m one of your ‘own people’ now?” Mr. Cruz nodded vigorously. “Precisely.” I said, “Then, as one of your ‘own people,’ what benefits do you intend to give me? It can’t all be beneficial to you, can it?” Mr. Cruz’s face hardened. “Vivian, why do you keep bringing up benefits?” “Isn’t your leader’s trust enough?” I sneered. “If that’s the case, then perhaps you shouldn’t consider me one of your ‘own people.’” “Outsiders get bonuses worth thousands, but ‘insiders’ get nothing? Does that seem fair?” “According to your earlier promise, just give me the ten thousand dollars.” Mr. Cruz slammed his hand on the desk in anger. But I wasn’t intimidated; I stared him directly in the eyes. Mr. Cruz suddenly sneered. “Vivian, do you think I don’t want to give you a bonus?” “I’m afraid others wouldn’t agree.” I paused. “What does this have to do with anyone else?” 2. Mr. Cruz said coolly, “You’ve taken quite a few days off this year, haven’t you?” “My colleagues might not say anything, but they all have their thoughts.” “My not giving you a bonus today is to give them a clear explanation.” “You’re a senior employee. I didn’t want to say this to your face.” “But since you’re so oblivious, and even have the nerve to come asking for money, I have no choice but to be blunt.” My face flushed red, and I said exasperatedly, “I only took a week off in total, and I worked overtime afterward, so I’ve more than made up for it!” “Mr. Cruz, how many times have I worked overtime this year?” “I’m not boasting, but without me on 24-hour standby, ensuring the company’s data security, our company would have been hacked long ago.” Mr. Cruz said dismissively, “Vivian, isn’t maintaining the company’s network security part of your job description?” “You get paid to do your work. Is that a great achievement?” “You took a week off and you’re still acting self-righteous?” I said urgently, “Why did I take time off? I had to go to the hospital to take care of my mother. You know that.” “Mr. Cruz, doesn’t everyone have a sick family member?” “You should know, I’m counting on this ten thousand dollars for my mother’s medical treatment.” Mr. Cruz didn’t respond. Instead, he calmly took a sip of his tea. I suddenly understood. He dared to treat me this way because he knew my mother was ill. He was banking on me needing the money, afraid to resign, which is why he was so brazenly oppressing and humiliating me. Mr. Cruz pointed to the door. “Out. I’ll observe your performance for a while. If you do well, I might consider giving you the bonus.” More empty promises. I bit my lip and left. … After work, I went to the hospital. I had told my mother several times that once my year-end bonus came in, she could have her surgery. But now… At her bedside, I forced a smile, not wanting my mother to notice anything amiss. But my parents quickly sensed my low spirits. As I was leaving, my mother suddenly hugged me gently. “Vivian, it’s alright. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself.” I murmured a soft “Mm-hmm,” and tears streamed down my face, unstoppable. After my parents were asleep, I dialed a number. For the past six months, Starlight Systems, a Fortune 500 company, had been trying to poach me. But Mr. Cruz always said he was my mentor, that he had given me a platform to showcase my talents, and I should be grateful. I was too naive, believed these manipulative words, and never resigned from Mr. Cruz’s company. But now… once bitten, twice shy. I had seen his true colors and was no longer so naive and innocent. Starlight Systems was ecstatic to hear I was willing to switch jobs. The salary they offered was five times what Mr. Cruz paid me. The next day, I arrived at Mr. Cruz’s company on time, intending to hand over my work and fulfill my last duty. But to my surprise, my workstation was gone. In its place was a trash can. My personal belongings were haphazardly piled in a corner. My colleagues all looked at me with smug delight, as if they’d been waiting for my downfall. I stormed off to find Mr. Cruz, only to discover he was meeting with a client. Next to him, my colleague Charlotte was pitching their services. The client nodded repeatedly, saying, “Mr. Cruz, I hear you have a talented individual at your company named Vivian. She’s a leader in the industry.” “She must have contributed significantly to your company reaching this scale, right?” Mr. Cruz sneered. “Her? All reputation, no substance. Her skills are completely outdated.” Mr. Cruz pointed to Charlotte. “Actually, all our company’s data security is handled by Charlotte.” “As for Vivian, well, she just relied on her seniority to claim credit, essentially bullying new hires.” “From now on, any issues, just connect with Charlotte.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391086”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The first time I met my sponsor, Ethan Vance, was the day my mom was in critical condition. The number on the check he handed me was enough to buy both my and my mom’s lives. “Be my girlfriend for three years. When the contract ends, this money is yours.” So, I started wearing white dresses and growing my hair long, imitating his first love, Mia Lin. He treated me incredibly well. I wasn’t some hidden canary; everyone knew me as the love of his life. He bought rare treasures for me at auctions and officially announced to the media that I would be the one and only Mrs. Vance. Everyone in our circle joked that he had fallen for a sponsored student like me. Even knowing this was an employment relationship, I sank into it helplessly. His blatant favoritism tacitly encouraged my wildly growing affection. Until a month before the contract expired, Mia sought refuge with the Vance family after a hit-and-run. That night, Ethan handed me a new contract. “Chloe, take the fall for Mia and go to prison for four years. I guarantee your mom will be well-provided for the rest of her life.” “What if I say no?” I asked, trembling. “I’ll stop all of your mom’s treatments. Chloe, you have no choice…” “As compensation, I will still marry you after you get out of prison.” Outside the window, the sound of police sirens drew nearer. I looked at him, tears falling silently. … The day I got out of prison, it was pouring rain. The freezing winter rain beat down on me. I was still wearing the summer clothes I had on when I went to prison three years ago. Four years of torment cost me not only my youth but also the hands I was once so proud of for playing the piano. Two of my fingers were brutally stomped and broken, healing into twisted, ugly shapes. With a heavy thud, the iron gates slowly opened. At that moment, a sliver of delusion even crept into my mind: would he come to pick me up? But outside the gates, there was nothing but muddy ground and pouring rain. I was too greedy. He never loved me in the first place. That pampering was just because I was a qualified substitute; that publicly declared favoritism was fake. Rescuing me from the abyss was just us getting what we needed from each other. Even though I consoled myself this way countless times, my tears still fell uncontrollably. He was like a stubborn plaster stuck to my heart; I spent four years trying to rip it off, but I just couldn’t. I wiped my tears and touched the letter my mom wrote me in my pocket, and my heart slowly warmed up. Suddenly, a car screeched to a halt in front of me, the muddy water kicked up by the tires splashing all over me. Ethan appeared before me holding a black umbrella. Just like the time I signed the critical condition notice and was at a dead end, he descended like a god. Only back then, looking at him, my heart fluttered uncontrollably. Now, looking at this face, all that’s left is intertwined love and hate. The car window rolled down, and Mia popped her head out, smiling at me. “Oh my, why are you still wearing loose summer clothes? Ethan, really, forgetting that it’s winter now.” Ethan’s gaze swept over me, his tone indifferent: “She won’t freeze to death.” I had imitated this tone of Mia’s thousands of times when I was her substitute. Hearing it with my own ears for the first time now, I felt somewhat dazed. Those days of imitating her and enjoying all of Ethan’s pampering flashed before my eyes again. “The baby is feeling a bit unwell, that’s why Ethan was delayed in picking you up…” Hearing the baby’s giggling, my hand only belatedly trembled. It turns out that during the four years I spent in prison for Mia, they had already built their own family. I pulled at the corners of my mouth in self-mockery. He shoved me into the back seat. When his gaze fell on my two broken fingers, he froze for a moment. There was a trace of incomprehensible annoyance in his eyes. The next second, he pressed the climate control panel, and the temperature from the rear vents instantly rose a few degrees. Then, he tossed a pack of tissues backward to me. I thought it was his pity for me, but then his indifferent voice sounded: “Dry yourself off. Don’t dirty Mia’s favorite cashmere seat covers.” In an instant, the last bit of hope in my heart was thoroughly drenched by this bucket of cold water. “Mr. Vance, take me directly to see my mom.” He didn’t reply, pressing the gas pedal. In the silence, the three people in the car had their own thoughts, accompanied only by the baby’s laughter. He used to hold me and whisper in my ear: “Chloe, have a baby for me.” How much sincerity did the old him have for me? I couldn’t hold back anymore and spoke up: “I’ve done everything you asked me to do! Why won’t you let me see my mom?” “What’s next? What else do you need me to do? Does Mia have another crime she needs me to take the fall for?” He finally looked up, meeting my eyes through the rearview mirror, his gaze obscure. Mia chuckled lightly but said nothing, staring condescendingly at my wretched state. The car sped through the rain, stopping blatantly in front of the City Hall doors. “Chloe, I’m fulfilling my promise from back then to marry you.” His tone was as calm as if he were remarking on the nice weather today. “Let’s go, get the marriage certificate.” The twenty-three-year-old me would have been ecstatic, happily holding his arm and walking briskly into City Hall. The thirty-year-old me only felt boundless panic and confusion. None of the promises he made back then had been fulfilled. How could he be someone who cared about promises? A strong sense of unease suddenly welled up, and I asked tremblingly: “Did something happen to my mom?” He shot me a glance, his tone carrying mockery: “Have the letters and voice recordings brought to you by the lawyer over these years been too few?” Right. I had just received a letter from my mom the day before I got out of prison. Looking at my mom’s familiar handwriting, my heart settled back into my stomach. If anything happened to my mom, I definitely wouldn’t live alone in this world either. “Go into City Hall first.” His voice deepened a bit, sounding like charity: “Chloe, be good. Once we get the certificate, I’ll find the best orthopedic surgeon to look at your hand.” He was always like this, slapping you and then giving you a sweet date. Knowing perfectly well what I cared about most, he still used the cruellest methods to force me to submit. Mia also spoke up: “The child needs legitimate status, and my background is a bit sensitive. Don’t worry, a good man like Brother Ethan, I would absolutely never give up to you.” I rubbed my mom’s letter in my pocket. We would be able to see each other soon; I couldn’t let any more hiccups happen. I chose to agree once again, following him into City Hall. Filling out forms, signing, taking photos. Holding the pen, I wrote my name, Chloe, stroke by stroke. The twenty-three-year-old me once held a notebook, earnestly planning our marriage registration day. I wanted to find the best documentary photographer, prepare cute props, and wear couple outfits he designed himself. But now, there was nothing. The staff asked us to sit in front of the backdrop. “Could you two sit a bit closer? Can the groom hold the bride’s hand? You look too distant.” Ethan frowned tightly and instinctively reached out to grab my left hand. When his fingertips touched the empty roots of my pinky and ring finger, his body suddenly stiffened. There were only hideous scars and cold air there. “Missing fingers are unlucky. Let’s just take the picture.” I hid my mutilated hand in my sleeve, feeling like a piece of flesh had been gouged from my heart. Ethan’s face became extremely ugly at that moment. The flash went off, and I instinctively closed my eyes. My mind uncontrollably brought up the image of him kissing my hands: “Chloe, has anyone ever told you that you were born for the piano?” He said that back then, he chose to sponsor me, whose family had gone bankrupt, only because he didn’t want me to give up the piano path due to poverty. But ultimately, he was the one who personally destroyed me, separating me from the piano for the rest of my life. Soon, two marriage certificates were handed to us. I opened it, and the photo of us looked very eerie. He was wearing a heavy black winter coat, while I was only wearing a short-sleeved shirt washed until the color faded. Coming out of City Hall, he lit a cigarette, leaned against the car door, and looked at me. “The title of Mrs. Vance is yours, but you must be clear.” “Every penny of the Vance family belongs to Mia. You are nothing but an ornament. Don’t act all high and mighty.” I raised my eyes mockingly: “Don’t worry, being controlled by you, how could I act high and mighty?” He froze for a moment, having never seen me look so unsubmissive. “Sharp-tongued. It seems prison didn’t teach you to be obedient.” I didn’t respond to his words, meeting his gaze directly. “Can you take me to see my mom now?” During the stalemate, Mia suddenly took off the massive diamond ring on her hand. “If we’re putting on a show, we should go all out. You wear this ring, lest the old man gets suspicious.” I took it numbly, slipping it onto my only remaining middle finger. But I was too thin, skin and bones, and the ring symbolizing happiness slid right off my finger, landing on the dirty floor mat under the car seat with a clink. Ethan sneered coldly: “Truly not destined for good fortune, can’t even wear a ring.” He bent down to pick up the ring, grabbed my hand, and forcefully tried to help me put it on. But after trying several times, the ring just couldn’t stay on that bony finger. He obviously lost his patience, throwing the ring back into the car seat fiercely. “So skinny, didn’t you eat in there?” With his monstrous power and influence, it would have been effortless to find out about my life in prison, but he never asked a single question. Ethan took the last drag of his cigarette, threw the butt on the ground, and crushed it with his foot. “Your mom is at a nursing home in the suburbs.” “We’ll go tomorrow.” “Tonight, you’re coming back with us.” I stood still, the words of refusal on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t say them. Without even the money for one night at a motel, where could I find a place to stay? I got into the car with my head down, watching it drive into the downtown villa district. Back when Ethan first succeeded in his business, he personally brought me to see these properties. At that time, he had his arm around my waist, pointing at the biggest villa by the lake and saying, “When I’ve earned enough money, I’ll buy that one and marry you into it.” Unfortunately, I found out later that he had long bought the most luxurious villa here. He was just finding an excuse to keep me housed outside. The real home was the haven he saved for Mia. And me, the substitute canary, only deserved a small apartment, treated as a pretty cage. It was laughable that I foolishly thought I had a place in the future he planned. Mia leaned against Ethan. “Ethan, I’m still a bit cold.” Ethan reached out, turned up the heat, took off his coat, and draped it over Mia. “Why didn’t you wear more? Your hands are so cold.” Looking at their affectionate display, my heart suddenly twitched. Back then, I just shivered in his arms, Without a second word, he hugged me and rented out more than half a shopping mall for me. I just casually mentioned that I couldn’t see the stars clearly, The next day, a giant astronomical telescope appeared on the balcony, And a famous astronomer gave me a live video tour of the major celestial bodies. Every day when he came home from work, the first thing he did was hug me, kiss my forehead, and ask what I wanted to eat today. He remembered my favorite dishes, prepared ginger tea for my period in advance, and quietly covered me with a blanket when I drew designs late into the night. The Ethan of that time had a surging love that could drown me. That was how I fell deeper and deeper, little by little. Unfortunately, it was all fake. He pretended too well, and I believed it to be real. The sound of the housekeeper taking me upstairs interrupted my memories. I went into the bathroom, wanting to take a hot shower. But that imported shower system was too advanced. I don’t know what I bumped, but a column of freezing water suddenly poured down from above. I cried out, getting thoroughly soaked with freezing water. With a basin of cold water poured over my head, I finally clearly understood that he and I were simply not from the same world. Just as I was frantically trying to turn off the water, the bathroom door was suddenly busted open. Ethan rushed in, dragging and pulling me out of the bathroom. From downstairs came Mia’s heart-wrenching cries. The baby in her arms was foaming at the mouth, blood flowing from its forehead. It looked like they had taken a massive tumble on the stairs. Amidst the chaos, I was also stuffed into the car heading to the hospital. Looking at Mia constantly crying with the child in her arms, I gripped my wet clothes and swallowed all my words back. The doctor quickly did a checkup, emerging with a grave expression. “The child has lost too much blood and needs an immediate transfusion, but Rh-negative blood might be…” The reason he insisted on bringing me along suddenly made perfect sense. It turned out he wanted me to be a blood bag for his child. He yanked me up and pushed me in front of the nurse. “Use hers, she’s also Rh-negative.” The nurse walked toward me with a syringe, and I took a step back. Ethan leaned into my ear. “If you don’t give blood today, don’t even think about seeing your mom.” Another threat. Mom again. Four years in prison, severed fingers, being forced to get a marriage certificate without my consent, and now being forced to donate blood. New grudges and old hatreds surged to my heart in an instant. I raised my hand and swung at that familiar face. Smack! Ethan’s head was knocked sideways. He looked at me in disbelief. I used to be very submissive to him, never saying a harsh word, let alone raising a hand. My palm stung fiercely, but there was a twisted sense of satisfaction in my heart. “Ethan, I am a human being! Not a tool you can use whenever you want!” But two fists are no match for four hands. I was still dragged into the blood draw room by the bodyguards. “Chloe, everything you have was given by me. Not to mention drawing a little of your blood, even if I wanted your life, you’d have to give it to me.” I closed my eyes in despair, letting the tears slide down my cheeks. I kept comforting myself: I survived four years in prison, what is this little pain? Bright red blood flowed through the clear tubing. 200cc 300cc 400cc I don’t know how long it had been, but my breathing grew heavier, and I could hear my own thumping heartbeat. “Is it still not enough?” Ethan was incredibly impatient. The nurse finally stopped, saying awkwardly, “It’s enough, it’s enough.” Despairingly supporting myself against the wall, I staggered out of the transfusion room step by step. The moment I looked up, I caught a glimpse of a landscape painting next to a familiar bulletin board. This corner appeared most often in the videos my mom sent me. Immense joy drove me to stumble towards the nurses’ station. I was sure, Mom must be here! “Excuse me, excuse me, is there a patient named Helen?” The nurse checked the computer for a few seconds. My breathing grew heavier, and my heart beat so fast it felt like it would jump out of my chest. I was both expectant and afraid. Expectant to see Mom, afraid Ethan would suddenly appear to stop me. I stared into the nurse’s eyes full of hope, only to see pity in them. “Helen? The patient with late-stage liver cancer from two years ago?” My heart violently skipped a beat, and a massive ringing in my ears instantly drowned me. “What… did you say?” “She passed away two years ago. The family signed to give up treatment, saying… they had no money left to treat her, and took the ashes away.” How could there be no money? He explicitly promised me he would cover all of Mom’s medical expenses. I went to prison, lost my fingers, and risked my life for Mia, but to save money, he pulled my mom’s oxygen tube? Hatred mixed with remorse washed over me like a tidal wave. My hands and feet went numb, and I felt like I was suffocating. So all the news about Mom over these years was forged by him! It turned out I had lost everything long ago. The wind outside the window was strong, making me shiver non-stop. I climbed onto the windowsill, taking one last look at this man-eating world. At the other end of the corridor, the doctor whispered a few words. Ethan hugged a relieved Mia; their child must have been out of danger. Without any hesitation, I flipped over and jumped. In a daze, I saw Ethan rushing over frantically to grab me. Those hands of his, always so steady, were actually trembling. “Chloe! I forbid you to die!! I forbid it!” Ethan breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing the news that the child was out of danger. Just then, a scream came from not far away. “Someone jumped off the building!” The corridor instantly descended into chaos. Nurses and doctors hurried toward the window. Ethan’s heart inexplicably tightened, and he instinctively wanted to follow and take a look. “Ethan!” Mia grabbed him, tearfully pointing at the hospital room. “Little Treasure is just out of danger, don’t go, I’m scared.” He paused, glancing toward the commotion. The crowd blocked his view; he couldn’t see anything. He suddenly remembered something and looked around. “Where is Chloe?” The woman who was standing there just a moment ago was gone. He asked the bodyguard next to him: “Did you see where Chloe went?” The bodyguard shook his head: “Mr. Vance, I didn’t notice. She didn’t look well after drawing blood just now. Maybe… she went to the donation room to rest.” The uneasy feeling in Ethan’s heart grew heavier, pressing down like a heavy stone. But he glanced at the weak child in Mia’s arms and suppressed that emotion. “Got it.” He turned and followed Mia into the hospital room to stay with them. A few hours later, the child’s condition stabilized. Ethan stepped out of the room, preparing to smoke a cigarette. Passing the nurses’ station, he heard two young nurses whispering. “Sigh, that woman who jumped earlier is so pitiful. I heard she’s only thirty.” “Yeah, Rh-negative blood. She just donated 400cc to a child and was very weak. I heard she found out her mother had passed away a long time ago and couldn’t handle the shock.” Ethan’s footsteps stopped dead, his blood running cold. He rushed to the nurses’ station, grabbing one of the nurses by the arm, his eyes bloodshot. “What did you just say… what’s the name of the person who jumped?” The nurse was startled by him and stammered: “Named… named Chloe.” “Why did she jump?” His voice was trembling. “She just found out from us that someone named Helen passed away from liver cancer two years ago. She seemed completely unaware and broke down on the spot.” Ethan felt like he had been struck by lightning, staggering backward two steps and hitting the wall. She knew. She just found out so suddenly. His mind went completely blank. He hadn’t figured out how to tell her about this at all. He had planned to… planned to pave the way first, so she’d be mentally prepared. Mia walked out of the room holding the child. Seeing his devastated look, she curled her lip. “Ethan, what’s with that expression? Isn’t it a good thing she’s dead? Saves us trouble in the future.” “That matter from back then can finally be turned over, and Little Treasure’s registration can be securely settled. A woman who’s been in prison, her dying is better for everyone.” “Shut up!” Ethan whipped his head around, his eyes as fierce as if he wanted to eat someone. He pushed Mia away and ran like a madman toward the emergency room. Mia stumbled from his push, and the child in her arms cried out in fright. Ethan’s mind was a tangled mess. He never wanted Chloe to die! Regarding her mother’s death, he had his difficulties! Back then, Helen’s condition had suddenly worsened. The cancer cells spread throughout her body. The doctor said it was untreatable, and her remaining days would be spent in agony. She was in excruciating pain, her only wish being to see her daughter one last time. Forced into a corner, he had no choice but to tell Helen that Chloe was in prison, taking the fall for someone else. Perhaps knowing there was no hope for a last meeting, Helen grabbed his hand and actively begged him, begging him to stop the treatment. She said that dragging it out like that made every minute and second feel like hell. In his mind, Chloe’s love, her hate, her smile, her tears flipped past page by page. He should have known. Her mother was her only attachment in this world. What about him? Did she have even the slightest attachment to him? Or did she already hate him to the bone, hating him so much that even looking at him made her feel sick? But no matter what, he had never thought of letting her die! He rushed to the emergency room door and was stopped by the doctor. “Family members can’t go in!” “How is she? How is she!” he roared like a madman. The doctor looked at him and sighed: “Her life is saved, but falling from such a high place… whether she wakes up or not depends entirely on her own will.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391102”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After my husband’s stepsister was widowed, he asked me for a divorce while I was five months pregnant. He looked earnest and guilty: “Her child is still young. Without someone to take care of them, the mother and son will be bullied. I can’t just ignore them.” I didn’t make a big scene; I calmly agreed. Because in my previous life, I didn’t agree. I even went to his military base with my heavy pregnant belly to make a fuss, just to save the marriage. In the end, because of her widow status, Jessica was bullied in the village. A local thug even sneaked into her house, forcing her to commit suicide. My husband, Ethan, resented me for this. He spread rumors that I used a past favor to force him to marry me, and that I wasn’t a virgin beforehand. I was investigated by the organization, sent down to a labor farm, and finally died of difficult labor in a cowshed. This time, I determined to let go, abort the child, and continue my studies. 1 I put down my pen. Before I could even stand up, Ethan hastily snatched the divorce application from my side. His slender fingers held those thin pages and immediately handed them to the instructor. The instructor took the application, frowned slightly, and sighed: “This divorce matter… Sigh, what a pity. Come get the certificate when the approval comes down.” Hearing this, a relaxed smile actually appeared on Ethan’s face. I sat there without saying a word, staring blankly out the window. Today is the beginning of spring, but this blizzard came unexpectedly. Coming out of the office, the snow pressed down the color of the sky, and the stagnant air around was suffocating. Ethan stopped, turned his head slightly to look at me, with a serious face: “Sarah, thank you for understanding me.” “Don’t worry, on Jessica’s side, when the child gets a little older, we can remarry.” His tone was solemn, as if I should be shedding tears of gratitude. But his tone was more mixed with a vague warning: “By the way, don’t tell everyone about our divorce. It will be very troublesome if outsiders know.” I froze for a moment, and only said one word, “Okay.” He’s afraid that if my father, a military commander in Washington D.C., finds out, it will hinder his future career, right? As husband and wife for a while, I was willing to leave him the last shred of dignity. He nodded, as if finding peace of mind, and his steps quickened a bit. But when I walked towards the car, he suddenly stopped me. “I have to go pick up Jessica. You walk back yourself.” After saying that, he started the car and drove away. The snowflakes beat against my face, it was very cold. So cold that my skin went numb, to the extent that even when I smiled bitterly, the corners of my lips were a bit stiff. As a pregnant woman, I really didn’t dare to walk 5 miles in such snowy weather. I had to endure a whole day at the guesthouse, waiting for the ox cart the next day to get back to the village. Just arriving at the village entrance, I heard some rumors from my previous life about me demanding repayment for a favor and being promiscuous. The speaker was in high spirits, not noticing at all that the subject of discussion was walking right past her. I didn’t stop to argue. As I continued walking forward, I only heard the last sentence: “Sigh, Ethan is just an honest man, planted for this life.” When I got home, my chest felt heavy and tight, and my stomach ached faintly. I didn’t understand why, even though I agreed to the divorce, such rumors still happened. Until early morning, Ethan still hadn’t come back. I originally wanted to wait for him to have a good talk about these messy rumors, but the needle-like pain in my stomach made me unable to wait any longer. Just as I planned to go back to the room and lie down, the main door was finally pushed open. He didn’t turn on the light. When he walked in with heavy steps, he brought a gust of freezing wind. He even carried the smell of rose perfume, obviously just coming back from Jessica’s side. Seeing me leaning on the sofa, he looked indifferent and annoyed: “We are already divorced, don’t tell me you still want to control where I go?” Before, whenever he came home late, I couldn’t help asking where he went, worried about his safety. But he always found me annoying, saying I was too controlling. Now, he’s actually acting self-righteous. I took a deep breath, trying hard to calm my emotions: “Do you know about those rumors about me in the village? Did you really not marry me voluntarily?” His eyes dodged, not daring to look at me, but he said toughly: “I don’t have time to listen to that gossip, you shouldn’t care either…” The more he dodged, the clearer it became in my heart. I’m afraid he was the one who spread those rumors. Anger and grievance intertwined. I fought back tears and said: “Ethan, you know clearly in your heart what happened back then wasn’t like that. Why throw dirty water on me?” “I’ve already agreed to the divorce, what more do you want? Go explain clearly for me!” He turned his face, his eyes gloomy but carrying a bit of impatient indifference: “They’re just rumors, what are you feeling wronged about?” “Right now everyone is staring at Jessica and gossiping. If there’s nothing else to distract everyone’s attention, how can Jessica stand it!” “Besides, I wanted to marry Jessica a long time ago.” “If you hadn’t been promiscuous and gotten into trouble, I wouldn’t have married you out of gratitude!” His voice was like a whip lashing my heart, making me feel embarrassed and chilled. I gritted my teeth, but still let my emotions collapse: “It was Jessica’s brother who almost assaulted me! It was you who hugged me saying you wanted to marry me, it was you who stopped me from calling the police!” Mentioning this again, it still feels like a nightmare. When this happened, he coveted my father’s power in the military, and also wanted to protect Jessica’s brother. He came to me immediately to comfort me and make promises. “Don’t be afraid, no one will know about this. Marry me, I will love you.” “If you call the police, your life is over.” He kept assuring me that he would definitely love me and care for me after marriage. I believed him, because marrying him, I had to interrupt my studies and get pregnant. He quickly got promoted because of my father’s convenience, immensely proud of himself. But it’s only been a year, and he has gone back on his word. Now, for Jessica, he casts me aside like a worn-out shoe. He froze for a moment, his thin lips pressed tightly together. He was clearly exposed by me momentarily. But the next second, his face returned to coldness, and he even squeezed out a sneer: “That was my kindness, not wanting your whole life to be ruined by that kind of thing.” “Besides, if you weren’t slutty, who would want to assault you.” I stared blankly at him, only feeling that the man in front of me was incredibly unfamiliar. How could he say such mean and heartless words. “Ethan, you are indeed not wrong. All this is my fault…” It was my failure to judge character. To actually mistake a jackal for a benefactor. “Enough,” He interrupted impatiently, not even willing to give a glance out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t bring up old things anymore. Jessica and her son will move over in a few days. You better pack up early.” “Don’t make any more fuss, and you are not allowed to bully them! Otherwise, get out!” After saying that, he turned and went upstairs with an indifferent face, too lazy to even look at me again. At the moment he left, a spasm of pain pierced my abdomen like an ice pick. Beads of cold sweat the size of beans popped out on my forehead, my back went numb into a stiff block of ice. I tried to call out to him, “Ethan!” “I… my stomach hurts so much…” He stopped, glanced back, but showed no intention of approaching: “If it hurts, go find a doctor. I’m not a doctor, what are you calling me for?” “Ethan, I might be miscarrying…” My voice was mixed with a faint tremble, my legs so weak I could barely stand. “What are you trying to do? Trying to use the child to threaten me?” His tone became even colder, “I advise you to be rational, don’t play these little tricks, it’s boring!” He watched coldly from the sidelines for a few seconds, then turned and walked towards his room. “Don’t forget, you should move your things out of the bedroom, this is my last tolerance.” Finally, he disappeared at the end of my sight. I held onto the trembling sofa wanting to prop myself up, but the abdominal pain gradually spread to my whole body. “It hurts… hurts…” I tried to save myself, looking down and hugging my violently twitching abdomen. But ultimately powerless, I fell to my knees, a dark tide surging before my eyes… 2 I was rudely awakened by a splash of cold water. Opening my eyes, I saw a little boy holding a water gun, standing in front of me with a disgusted look on his face. “Hey, who are you?” “Why are you sleeping in my house?” Water droplets slid down my temple, the chill piercing to the bone. I tried to prop up my sore body, but soon felt a dull ache in my abdomen again, and could only lean against the sofa and gasp for air. “Leo, don’t be impolite.” A familiar and soft voice came. I turned and saw Jessica. She stood not far away, gently pulling the child’s hand. “Sorry, Sarah. The child is still young and doesn’t know better.” She seemed to be apologizing for her son, but the topic suddenly changed. “But why are you still here? If you want to stay here, it’s not impossible, it’s just that Ethan and I have decided to get married.” “Then your identity would be a bit too awkward.” I suppressed the anger that surged up instantly and stared at her coldly: “With a mother who has no morals, no wonder you raised such an uneducated son.” “You!” Before she could speak, the child named Leo started shouting. “You’re not allowed to talk about my mom! She is the best person!” “What are you guys chatting about?” Ethan came down from upstairs. When his gaze fell on Jessica’s face, it softened. He stood steadily in front of her, quickly glanced at me, his eyes carrying a warning. Jessica lowered her head, her gentle expression deliberately mixed with a bit of pitiful grievance. “Nothing, I saw Sarah hasn’t left yet, so I came to say hi.” “But she didn’t seem too happy, and… scolded us.” Ethan frowned, obviously feeling sorry for her: “Didn’t I warn you not to bully them?” As soon as his voice fell, he raised his hand and slapped me across the face. My head roared, and my ears were even buzzing. The force was so great that I almost couldn’t stand, and staggered backward. The cabinet behind me was knocked over by my movement, and the vase on the cabinet fell to the ground, shattering into pieces. Broken porcelain shards splashed everywhere, several of them piercing into my calf. The pain made me break out in cold sweat instantly. However, before I could catch my breath, I heard a soft cry from Jessica. “Ah—” I subconsciously turned my head and saw a fine bloody scratch on her calf made by the shards. It didn’t look deep, but it attracted everyone’s attention. “Mom, you’re hurt!” Ethan’s expression became tense in an instant. He walked over without a second thought, picked Jessica up and carried her sideways in his arms. He asked softly if it hurt, his movements so skilled it made me dazed and want to laugh. He had never cared for me like this, even when I went through the discomfort of pregnancy, even when I was just slapped down by him. “I’ll take you to the clinic. Don’t be afraid.” He said this and carried her out, not even leaving a glance for me. I held onto the sofa wanting to stand up, but the abdominal pain made my legs weak several times. The wound on my leg was oozing blood. I looked down, only feeling my miserable state was ridiculously funny. I staggered out, but heard whispers from the doorway. Villagers were gathered there in twos and threes, the content of their whispers crystal clear. Someone saw Ethan carrying Jessica and immediately called out: “Hey, the daughter-in-law of the Carter family, what’s wrong? What happened to Jessica?” Ethan stopped, raised his head, and answered without any evasion, “Jessica is my wife. Her business is my business. From today on, no one can bully her, much less gossip about her.” Such a loud voice, completely an intentional declaration. “What about Sarah?” Someone couldn’t help asking. Ethan’s steps paused, but he didn’t look back. “She doesn’t deserve to be my wife. I have already divorced her.” Jessica’s nested head rested on his chest. The shy and triumphant expression on her face couldn’t even be hidden. I looked up at the watching crowd. Their eyes were either astonished or sarcastic, but there was not a trace of pity. At that moment, I remembered Ethan’s solemn vow at our wedding. “From now on, whether in sickness or in health, I am willing to accompany you and protect you…” And now, these words have become the deepest nail piercing my heart. 3 I dragged my bloodstained body to the health clinic. The doctor was startled when he saw my appearance. “Quick, somebody come! A pregnant woman is having a miscarriage!” He shouted loudly, turning to get tools. In my blurred vision, I saw my own blood dripping and spreading on the floor. My head was extremely dizzy, but I desperately protected my bulging abdomen with my hands. There was my child, the child I originally wanted to abort myself. Now leaving the world in such a way. Several nurses lifted me onto a gurney and rushed me into the operating room. I vaguely saw Ethan standing at the end of the corridor, talking to a nurse. He frowned slightly, his tone carrying a gentleness I had never heard before: “Will it leave a scar? Use the best medicine for the wound, don’t let her feel pain.” At this moment, a violent contraction came from my lower abdomen, the pain seemingly tearing me apart from my internal organs to my soul. As the world spun, I seemed to hear the sound of firecrackers outside. Faintly, there was also Ethan’s low voice: “Today is the Lantern Festival. I’ll make sweet dumplings for you mother and son when we go home…” In my ears was the doctor’s anxious voice: “Quick! She’s lost too much blood. Where are the family members? Who is willing to donate blood?” “She… she came in alone, it seems no one followed.” My world gradually blurred, as if my soul briefly detached from my body. From a bystander’s perspective, I watched the nurses outside running in the corridor, asking anxiously: “Does anyone have Type B blood? Does anyone have Type B blood?” Ethan was holding Jessica in his arms, she nestled weakly against his chest. A nurse grabbed him: “Excuse me, are you Type B blood? We have a pregnant woman hemorrhaging and urgently need a blood transfusion.” Ethan shook his head, “Sorry, I’m not.” He then frowned and added: “Whose family member is so irresponsible? How can they let a pregnant woman come over by herself?” My heart felt like it had been viciously slashed by something. Yes, how irresponsible. The doctors and nurses were in a flurry of activity. Through the small transparent window, I saw someone finally rolling up their sleeves to start donating blood. While Ethan had already turned and left, his tone relaxed: “Jessica, let’s go, don’t waste time.” I was finally saved, but the child couldn’t be kept. It’s better this way. Being born into such a family wouldn’t be a good thing for him. During the few days in the hospital, I didn’t receive any visitors. After being discharged, I carried a small luggage bag and didn’t return to the village. Instead, I went straight to the instructor and got my divorce certificate. “Ethan is hosting a wedding banquet tomorrow. Do you know it’s spread all over the village recently?” My tone was indifferent: “It has nothing to do with me anymore.” “Does he know you’re leaving?” “No.” “Could you please not tell him where I went?” The instructor was silent for a long time, and finally nodded.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391118”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In my previous life, I resented Emily, the fake daughter, for occupying the place that rightfully belonged to me. I fought for and snatched at Emily’s belongings, earning myself a reputation for being consumed by jealousy. My biological father, Mr. Davies, claimed I had been corrupted, brandishing a belt to discipline me. My biological mother, Mrs. Davies, tearfully pushed me away: “If I had known you would become like this, I would rather not have given birth to you.” My brother, Henry, shielded Emily behind him: “My sister should be as pure and kind as Emily.” “You are so malicious; you don’t deserve to be my sister.” But they all forgot that I, too, should have grown up carefree by their side. Fine, if you prefer someone pure and kind. Then in this life, I will be that pure and kind girl. And I will make you willingly offer everything I desire. 1 When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I was brought home to the Davies family. My biological parents were filled with guilt. They decorated my room like a princess’s, but its location was poor, facing north, deprived of sunlight. The two best rooms on the second floor were given to my brother, Henry, and to Emily, the fake daughter. In my previous life, because of the room issue, on the very first day I returned, I had a huge fight with my birth parents. I demanded why they hadn’t reserved the best room for me. I was determined to claim Emily’s room, scattering her belongings everywhere. Eventually, Emily, with red-rimmed eyes, conceded. “This room always belonged to Anya. Now that she’s back, it’s only right that I give it to her.” Under the guilty gazes of the whole family, she moved all her things into the guest room. “I never truly belonged in this family anyway, so let me stay here. As long as Anya feels better, I don’t care what happens to me.” I got the best room as I wished. But the very next day, my parents quietly transferred ownership of a luxurious apartment to Emily. “Emily, Anya was being unreasonable. Consider this apartment an apology from Mom and Dad on Anya’s behalf. If you’re ever unhappy, you can move in whenever you like.” “Mmm, thank you, Mom and Dad.” Emily hugged my mother, her suppressed tears making my parents’ hearts ache. Then, thinking of my unreasonable self, they sighed helplessly. 2 This time, I still didn’t step into the room prepared for me. I kept my lips tightly pressed together, standing by the doorway, my gaze lowered. “Mom, can I switch rooms?” “What’s wrong? Is the room not good enough?” My birth mother thought I was dissatisfied with the room and quickly took my hand, asking. I shook my head. “The room is wonderful. I never dreamed of living in such a beautiful room.” “But… everything is too perfect. So perfect that I’m afraid it’s all a dream, and it might just disappear suddenly.” I let my eyes well up with tears at just the right moment. My birth mother’s grip tightened, pulling my hand more firmly. “Silly child, of course not. This is real. Mom and Dad brought you home, and from now on, this is your home. You can do whatever you want in your own home.” Is that so? Yet, in my previous life, why did I have to resort to a hysterical argument just to get a room that was already mine? Why, when I asked for what was rightfully mine, did you make me feel like I was being unreasonable? “Mom, are you really serious?” My birth mother nodded. “Then, can I change rooms?” I insisted strongly, and my birth mother reluctantly gave in. “Alright, there are plenty of empty rooms. Pick whichever one you like, live wherever you want.” As my birth mother said this, I distinctly felt Emily, standing behind her, tremble slightly. My gaze passed over them, settling on Emily’s room. Emily’s pupils contracted sharply, and she instinctively clenched her fists. I deliberately kept my gaze fixed, standing still as if in deep thought. Then, just before Emily seemed to make some decision, I suddenly spoke. “Mom, I want to stay in that one.” My fingertip swept past Emily’s room, then past Henry’s room, finally landing on the staff quarters downstairs. My birth mother followed my gaze. Seeing which room I indicated, a flicker of embarrassment crossed her face. She quickly exchanged a glance with my birth father, then forced a smile. “Anya, dear, that room is for the household staff. It’s small and cramped. How could you stay there?” “Sweetheart, be a good girl, let’s pick another one.” I shook my head, a look of longing on my face. “I think it’s wonderful. It has a comfortable bed and its own bathroom.” “I used to think that if I could ever live in such a nice room in this lifetime, I would die content. I never thought that day would actually come.” “Mom,” I pleaded, looking at my birth mother, “Can I have this wish?” “This…” My parents’ eyes darted between each other, their faces cycling through shades of red and white, like a colorful painting. Seeing that my parents didn’t know how to respond, Emily stepped forward to mediate. “How can this be? Why don’t you take my…” “Thank you, Mom and Dad.” Before Emily could finish, I cut her off directly, effectively silencing anything else she was about to say. This time, I wouldn’t give her the chance to display her gentle kindness. I turned and skipped downstairs, feigning an air of great happiness. Mom and Dad, you like kind and sensible daughters, don’t you? You feel guilty, don’t you? Well, now that your own biological daughter is suffering, how much guilt will you feel? 3 Early the next morning, the Davies family was woken by the sound of pots and pans clattering and breaking in the kitchen. When they came downstairs, I was on the floor, picking up shards. “Hiss~” The sharp edge of a broken bowl cut my rough fingertips. Blood immediately welled from the wound. Did it hurt? Not really. Compared to the beatings from my adoptive father, Mr. Evans, this was nothing. But my eyes still welled up with tears. I cautiously looked up, meeting my parents’ bewildered gazes. “I’m sorry, Mom and Dad, I woke you.” “I just wanted to make breakfast for you, but the cabinet was too high for me to reach.” “So, I accidentally…” I lowered my head, not daring to look at them, trembling as I softly sobbed. Like a startled little rabbit. In my previous life, I had seen Emily act this way countless times. So, in this life, I had her act down pat. Sure enough, my birth mother ignored the shards on the floor and stepped right in, carefully pulling me out of the kitchen. “Child, we have a chef. You don’t need to cook.” My birth mother asked the housekeeper to bring the first aid kit and meticulously tended to my wound. I sniffled. “I’m sorry, Mom, it’s just become a habit.” “My adoptive father said if I didn’t work, he wouldn’t feed me.” “Mom, the taste of hunger isn’t pleasant. I don’t want to go hungry again.” My birth mother’s hand suddenly froze. They had investigated everything I had been through, knowing every detail. They felt guilty about me. In my previous life, it was the same. But they thought that by simply making amends, they could erase their guilt. And my daily jealousy provided them with a convenient excuse to dismiss that guilt. My birth mother looked away, raising a hand to wipe her face. She was crying. But this wasn’t enough. “Mom, it’s all my fault. Please don’t be sad.” I reached out and wrapped my arms around my birth mother’s neck. My oversized sleeve fell away, revealing the scars on my arm. “Anya, what happened to your arm?” My birth father, standing nearby, noticed the scars at once. My birth mother snapped out of it. Just as I was about to pull my arm back, she grabbed my wrist. She lifted my sleeve. A series of horrifying scars were exposed. My birth mother’s tears could no longer be held back. She hugged me, crying heartbrokenly, “My child, my poor child.” Even my birth father, usually so calm, wise, and unreadable, couldn’t help but get misty-eyed. In my previous life, when faced with my scars, they had merely looked away, advising me, “The past is the past. You need to learn to move forward.” “You have enough to eat and wear now. Don’t keep bringing up the past.” Back then, I was like a madwoman. I accused them of being unfit parents, of showing favoritism. It turns out, sometimes, the crazier you act, the less pity you receive. The calmer you are, the more people empathize. My past self thought that acting out would awaken their guilt. How foolish. 4 Under my deliberate display of vulnerability, my parents’ pity for me grew day by day. In contrast, they paid less attention to Emily. Emily had grown up being pampered by the family. Naturally, she was somewhat displeased by this shift in affection. But I had taken her path, leaving her no opportunity to showcase her understanding and kindness. She sat on the opposite sofa, watching us—a seemingly happy family of three—like a stranger. My peripheral vision secretly focused on her. Her pale fingertips repeatedly kneaded the throw pillow in her hands, her eyes filled with tears. Was she hurting? In my previous life, I felt the same way. My unreasonableness made my parents gradually lose faith in me. Emily, with her sweet words and kind heart, made my parents beam with joy. The three of them sat across from me, just as they are now, flaunting their happiness. To them, it seemed I was the outsider. If I were truly unrelated to them, it might not have mattered. But that warm family affection, that should have been mine. Watching everything that was rightfully mine being taken by another, my heart ached no less than Emily’s did now. … My parents, under my subtle guidance, now thought of me first for everything. Even the luxurious apartment they had given Emily in the previous life was now mine. “Anya, we know you’re still getting used to things after coming back, so Mom and Dad want to give you your own independent space. If you ever feel uncomfortable in this house, you can move in there anytime.” I looked at the name on the property deed, a cynical sneer forming in my heart. Indeed, money flows to those who don’t need it, and love flows to those who aren’t deprived of it. In my previous life, I lacked both, yet they gave them to Emily, who lacked neither. In this life, even after trying their best to make amends, they still felt it wasn’t enough and wanted to give more. But who would complain about having too much wealth? I feigned a slight refusal, then reluctantly accepted. I was genuinely worried that one day, I might suddenly be cast out, just like in my previous life. Having more security always seemed like a good idea.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391137”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel