Category: English

1 My grandfather’s last wish was to see me marry Bruce. We’d been together eight years, so I never doubted it was just a matter of time. But he hesitated, asking to wait another month. The next day, his coworker Serena posted their marriage certificate online, writing, “Even one month with you completely is enough.” When I went to confront him, I overheard him telling a friend, “Just because her grandfather saved me, I promised to look after her forever. One sentence bound my whole life. But to have one month with the one I truly love… I’d have no regrets.” His friend warned, “Won’t Rosy find out and leave you?” Bruce replied, “She trusts me completely. She won’t suspect a thing.” Later, when he called to meet at the courthouse, he only received the wedding gift I’d sent him. The card read: “Bruce, I wish you and Serena a lifetime of happiness.” … “What can she even do besides guilt-trip me? Using her grandfather to make me spend time with her every single day… I’m honestly sick of it.” Outside the door, Bruce’s words were like nails, pinning me to the spot. Bruce and I grew up together. We were friends for eighteen years before he asked me out in college, and we’d been together for the eight years since. I couldn’t believe it was all a lie. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the doorknob, the world spinning around me. The vibration of my phone finally broke through the static in my head. “Miss Collins? Your grandfather is in critical condition. Please come to the hospital immediately.” By the time I rushed to the hospital, they were already wheeling him out of the emergency room. Seeing his strong, familiar face, my heart settled, but the doctor’s next words shattered my world. “He doesn’t have much time. You should say your goodbyes.” My legs felt like cotton as I pushed open the door to his room. He was smiling at me. “Rosy, you’re here. Where’s Bruce? Didn’t he come with you?” He looked so much better, but I knew it was just a final surge of energy before the end. “Grandpa, he’s busy with work. I’ll call him right now.” I dialed his number over and over, more than a dozen times, and with each unanswered call, the light in my grandfather’s eyes dimmed a little more. Finally, he picked up. Before I could speak, Bruce’s voice, thick with irritation, cut through the line. “Rosy, didn’t I tell you I was busy? Why do you keep calling?” My voice trembled, a choked sob caught in my throat. “Bruce, Grandpa’s dying. Can you please…” He didn’t let me finish. “Rosy, are you done with your little drama? How dare you lie about something like this? I’m swamped today. We’ll talk tomorrow.” Just before the line went dead, I heard Serena’s voice in the background, cooing his name. Honey. My grandfather saw the look on my face. Just like when I was a child, he reached out and patted my head with his rough, calloused hand. “Rosy, my greatest wish in this life is to see you happy. No matter what happens, Grandpa will always be with you.” I sat by his side, just as I had when I was a little girl, until the heart monitor let out a long, piercing shriek. No sound would come from my throat. My vision blurred, tears flooding my eyes like a broken dam. “Miss Collins, my condolences.” I sat numbly outside the hospital morgue, wanting to call Bruce one last time, to let him see Grandpa off. But when I tried, I discovered he had blocked my number. I tried every other way I could think of to reach him, but it was no use. At that same moment, Serena posted an update. A photo of her strolling on a beach, Bruce holding her hand, his smile soft and gentle. The caption: He drops everything to take me to the beach when I’m feeling down. I opened my phone and bought a plane ticket for three days from now. If you two are so deeply in love, there’s no reason for me to be a third wheel. Bruce, this is goodbye. 2 “You can pick it up tomorrow, Miss Collins.” I handed over my grandfather’s ashes to the specialist at the memorial company. I was having them compressed into a diamond, something I could wear and keep with me always. When I got home, a sudden yapping from inside startled me. “Oh, sorry about that. My puppy’s a little shy around strangers.” Serena emerged from the guest room, wrapped in my silk robe. Bruce must have seen the look on my face, because he rushed over and took my hand. “We worked so late last night, I just let her crash in the guest room.” I thought of her social media post and let out a bitter laugh. “Right. You two must have been very busy.” My jab hit its mark. Bruce’s voice rose. “Rosy, what’s that supposed to mean?” I yanked my hand away and headed for the stairs. Just before I closed my bedroom door, I heard him comforting Serena in a low voice. “She’s been emotional lately. Just ignore her.” The room was filled with my grandfather’s things. I took a deep breath, and the tears I’d been holding back began to fall. As I was packing his belongings, the door opened. Serena stood there, a mocking smile on her face. “Rosy, Bruce doesn’t love you anymore.” “Then have him tell me that himself. I won’t cling to him.” The smug look on her face faltered. “Just you wait!” I didn’t want to waste another second on her. As I opened my mouth to tell her to get out, a foul smell hit me. Her little dog had jumped onto the bed and was pissing on my grandfather’s memorial portrait. I snatched the dog off the bed and frantically tried to wipe the photo clean with a tissue. “Ahh! My baby!” Serena shrieked, scooping the dog into her arms. “Rosy, how dare you hurt my baby!” Her face twisted in fury. She kicked over the bag of my grandfather’s clothes I’d packed and stomped on them with her heel. Rage, white-hot and blinding, consumed me. My hand flew, the sharp crack of a slap echoing in the room. I grabbed her by the collar, my face inches from hers. “Serena, you touch my grandfather’s things again, and I swear you’ll regret it.” Suddenly, an arm seized mine. I was thrown to the floor, my head cracking against the corner of the nightstand with a sickening thud. “Rosy, what the hell is wrong with you?” Bruce stood over me, protectively shielding Serena. She turned her face to show him the red mark, her expression a mask of wounded innocence. “I just wanted to help, but…” she whimpered. “If Rosy doesn’t like me, I shouldn’t be here, getting in her way.” Bruce’s face was dark with anger. “Rosy, what is your problem? Serena was just trying to be nice.” I held up the urine-soaked portrait. “You tell me. Is letting her dog piss on my grandfather’s picture being nice? Or is stomping all over his clothes being nice?” He flinched, his eyes darting away. “It’s just a photo. I’ll have her print you a new one. That’s no reason to hit her.” I stared at the man before me, my heart stuttering to a stop. Even if he didn’t love me, Grandpa had treated him like his own grandson for years, had even saved his life. And now he was letting this woman desecrate his memory. 3 “Get out.” Tears streamed down my face. Serena started to say something, but Bruce pulled her away. I finished packing my grandfather’s things. When Bruce saw me dragging a suitcase to the door, he blocked my path. “You’re running away from home over something this small?” he scoffed. “It’s just a picture. I’ll go with you to print another one later.” I shoved his hand off my arm. “These are my grandfather’s clothes. I’m going to see him off.” “I’ll print the photo myself. You’re busy.” My coldness seemed to unnerve him. A flicker of anxiety crossed his face. “How is Grandpa doing? Wait, I’ll go with you to see him.” Just then, a cry of pain came from the kitchen. “Bruce! I cut my hand! It hurts!” He pushed past me and rushed to Serena’s side, tenderly wrapping her finger in a paper towel. “Serena’s bleeding. I have to take her to the hospital. You wait here for me, and we’ll go see Grandpa together when I get back.” I met his gaze and gave a slight nod. He seemed relieved as he hurried Serena out the door. I knew he wouldn’t be back. As was tradition, I took a car back to our hometown and burned my grandfather’s belongings by the river. As the last embers died out, my phone rang. It was Bruce. “Rosy, a last-minute meeting came up at work. Tell Grandpa I said hi, and I’ll go with you to see him tomorrow.” After hanging up, I saw him again on my social media feed. Serena’s post: I get a tiny cut on my finger, and he insists on taking care of me 24/7. The next morning, Bruce called. Perhaps because I hadn’t bothered him at all yesterday, his voice held a trace of nervousness. “Rosy, let’s go see Grandpa together today.” I was at the memorial company, accepting the diamond bracelet they handed me. The grandfather who had shielded me from every storm was now just this tiny, perfect stone. “Okay,” I said. “There’s something I need to tell you, too.” I felt he deserved to know that Grandpa was gone. When I got home, Serena saw the bracelet on my wrist and immediately flaunted a new watch on hers. It was an expensive, jewel-encrusted piece. A triumphant smirk played on her lips. “My hand was hurting so much yesterday, Bruce bought this to cheer me up.” I ignored her. “Where’s Bruce?” My lack of reaction clearly surprised her. Her eyes turned venomous. In a flash, she lunged forward, grabbed my bracelet, and ripped it from my wrist, flinging it toward the swimming pool outside. The force of it left a raw, red line on my skin, and beads of blood started to well up. But I didn’t care. I sprinted to the edge of the pool and dove in without a second thought. In that same instant, Serena’s expensive watch clattered into the water beside me, followed by the sound of her theatrical sobbing. I broke the surface to see her kneeling on the ground, and Bruce pointing at me, his face contorted with rage. “Rosy, when did you become so petty!” he yelled. “Serena earned a bonus, so I bought her a watch as a reward! And you fake falling into the pool just to frame her?” “Get that watch out of the water right now,” he snarled. “Or you can stay in there and freeze.” 4 I tried to pull myself out of the pool, but Bruce shoved me back in. He stood on the edge, his eyes like ice, as I shivered uncontrollably in the cold water. “She threw the watch in herself,” I said through chattering teeth. “Check the security cameras if you don’t believe me.” Bruce laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. “Rosy, I saw you jump in with my own two eyes. That’s a fact.” I held up the diamond bracelet, my voice breaking with every word. “Grandpa is dead. This bracelet is made from his ashes. She threw it in the water. Of course I jumped in after it.” Serena clutched his arm, her face a mask of sorrow. “But Bruce, didn’t your assistant, Mr. Lin, say her grandfather was fine at the hospital?” Bruce’s expression grew even darker. “Rosy! That’s your own grandfather! How could you curse him like that just to win an argument?” “Get the watch. And then you will apologize to Serena.” I felt frozen to the bone. I dredged the watch from the bottom of the pool and dragged my exhausted body onto the concrete. “Apologize.” Bruce gave me no time to breathe, yanking me to my feet and shoving me in front of Serena. She clung to his arm. “Bruce, honey, her grandfather is dying, after all. I don’t want to make things harder for her. As an apology, how about she lets me hold onto that diamond bracelet for a few days? Just so she doesn’t lose it again.” I clutched the bracelet so tightly the broken links cut into my palm. “I told you! This is made from my grandfather’s ashes! I am not giving it to her!” “I came back today to tell you that Grandpa is already gone! Call the hospital if you don’t believe me!” My words only seemed to make him angrier; he clearly thought I was just being stubborn. A couple of bodyguards stepped forward and forced me to the ground. He ignored the blood trickling from my hand and pried my fingers open, wrenching the bracelet from my grasp. He presented the blood-streaked bracelet to Serena. For a fleeting moment, as he glanced at the blood dripping from my fingertips, the concern in his eyes looked real. “There. Serena has forgiven you. Now go get your hand bandaged.” Pinned to the ground, I reached out desperately for the bracelet. The prolonged time in the cold water, combined with a sleepless night, finally took its toll. The world tilted, and the last thing I saw was Bruce’s panicked face before everything went black. I woke up the next morning in a sterile hospital room. It was empty, save for a glass of cold water on the nightstand, the only proof that someone had been there. A text from Bruce was on my phone. An address. “Come here if you want the bracelet back.” I forced myself out of bed, checked out of the hospital, and took a cab to the location. It was a park by the sea. In the distance, I could see what looked like a wedding ceremony. As I got closer, I recognized some of Bruce’s friends among the guests. When they saw me, their faces registered shock, then a flustered panic at being caught. And there, at the center of it all, was Bruce, arm-in-arm with Serena, accepting the congratulations of their guests. When Bruce saw me, the panic on his face was unmistakable. “What… what are you doing here?”

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In my past life, my sister threw me to human traffickers, who broke one of my legs so I could beg for money. Ten years later, when the trafficking ring was busted, my parents took me home in a wheelchair. My sister looked at me with disgust: “You’re already crippled. Being a foil to me is your blessing!” In the end, I died tragically in an “accidental” car crash. When I opened my eyes again, my sister was dragging me towards the traffickers. I pretended to have a seizure, disgusting the traffickers, and watched as my sister was taken away as a substitute. In this life, it’s your turn to enjoy this blessing alone! 1 “Mia, are you playing me? This girl is skinny as a rail. How am I supposed to sell her?” A sharp voice with an accent exploded in my ear. I struggled to lift my eyelids, looking at the mean-faced middle-aged woman in front of me. A huge sense of panic swept over me. Ten-year-old Mia was dragging my hand hard, her eyes darting around. In my past life, it was also at the amusement park. Mia made an excuse to send our parents away and dragged me to find the traffickers herself. Working together, they easily tricked me into the car. My miserable life started from this moment. “Auntie Cui, my sister is a picky eater, that’s why she’s a bit thin. But I heard—your line of work doesn’t have such high requirements, right? My sister has good genes; you won’t lose out.” The trafficker patted her clothes impatiently, about to agree. I pinched myself hard, tears bursting out instantly: “Sister, I feel so sick… where’s my medicine?” I pressed my chest hard, trying to make my breathing rapid, my hands grasping randomly at the pocket on Mia’s waist. Seeing this, the trafficker abruptly let go of my hand and cursed at Mia: “Damn girl, what are you plotting? I was wondering why her face looked so bad. Turns out she’s a sick child! If I buy her back and she dies on me, your family gets off scot-free!” Mia panicked and explained: “Impossible, she’s never had this problem growing up—” I knelt heavily at her feet, snot and tears running down as I tugged at Mia’s pocket. “Sister, Sister, I was wrong… I know you want to be a star. I’ll never peek at you playing the piano or steal your clothes again. Please give me the medicine…” I gasped violently, my face flushed hot. Out of the corner of my eye, the trafficker’s attention was completely diverted, a pair of eyes half-hidden by fat staring greedily at Mia. And Mia was busy resisting my force, knowing nothing about it. “Chloe, are you crazy—let go!” The trafficker took a big step forward, ripped open Mia’s pocket, and pulled out a small bottle of medicine. The label was severely worn, looking like it had been taken for years. She slapped Mia hard across the face. “You little bitch dare to play me! Dreaming of taking advantage of me!” Then the trafficker threw the medicine bottle at me, grabbed Mia by the collar, and walked quickly towards the van behind. “That’s my dad’s medicine! Not hers! She’s lying—Chloe! Chloe! Say something, Chloe!!” Mia screamed heart-wrenchingly calling me. I turned a deaf ear, focusing on unscrewing the bottle cap and stuffing a pill into my mouth in front of them. How could a child’s strength compare to a strong trafficker? Mia was almost lifted and stuffed into the back seat, and then the van sped away. I calmly got up from the ground, patted the dust off my pants. Spat the medicine in my mouth into the trash can next to me. 2 When Mom and Dad ran over holding a cotton candy each, I was sitting blankly on the stone pier, clutching the medicine bottle tightly. Seeing them, I pouted and ran into Mom’s arms, crying out of breath. They were obviously startled by my sudden closeness. When we were little, every time I acted coquettishly with Mom and Dad, Mia would go back to the room and pull my hair, warning me not to snatch her things, or she would teach me a lesson. Over time, I dared not get close to Mom and Dad anymore, and the relationship became more and more distant. Mom hesitated to wipe the tears off my face, her voice gentler than ever: “Chloe don’t cry, tell Mom, what happened? Where’s your sister?” I opened my palm, sobbing: “Sister asked me to buy candy for her, said she would wait for me here, but when I came back, I only saw the medicine bottle on the ground…” Mom and Dad saw the bubble gum and medicine bottle in my palm and believed it without a doubt. Mom held me while urging Dad to call the police. This candy was a “meeting gift” given by the trafficker when she saw me just now. How does it not count as the truth? 3 Walking out of the police station, Mom and Dad seemed to age ten years in an instant. Mom held my hand tightly, as if afraid I would also be snatched by traffickers. Dad rubbed his eyes fiercely: “Don’t know where Mia is now? That damn trafficker! My Mia…” Oh, worried about where she is? I know. I bit my finger. At this time, Mia should have been sent to an abandoned factory in the suburbs, where there were many other abducted children waiting to be sold for the first time. In my past life, my small face was sallow, looking malnourished at a glance, with little meat on my body. Several “customers” shook their heads at me. Later, within a few short months, I changed hands several times and was finally sold to a beggar organization. There, little girls like me were the easiest to get sympathy and charity. So my leg was broken alive. Raised for only a week, the wound just formed a thin scab, and I was thrown onto the street to beg. At that time, I was not yet 9 years old. Where were my parents then? Did they grieve and worry about my safety like this? I slowly held Mom’s hand back, and her tears fell even harder. After the organization was busted, the police notified my parents to take me back. From the police station, Dad pushed my wheelchair, and Mom held my hand by the side like this. Their expressions were so calm, only asking a couple of routine questions about my health. And when they saw Mia at home, their unchanging expressions cracked a little. Dad let go of my wheelchair, and Mom rushed forward to take Mia’s hand and warm it in her palms. “Mia, your health is bad, it’s not a big deal, it’s so cold outside, why did you come out?” Watching the heartwarming scene in front of me, I gripped the wheelchair tightly, clearly seeing the smug smile on Mia’s lips. Even after so many years, I still couldn’t get a bit of Mom and Dad’s attention from her. Palms and backs of hands are both flesh, but how can the thin flesh on the back compare to the palm? 4 Three months passed in a blink of an eye. Mia’s missing person notices were posted everywhere and even appeared in a special section of the newspaper. Dad went to the police station to inquire every week, but came back dejected every time. With my company, Mom’s grief gradually lessened, no longer sitting in Mia’s room crying every day. When Mom’s childhood friend called to arrange a meeting between the two families, they even went out shopping excitedly in the car. Watching Mom and Dad busy in the living room, I turned to Mia’s photo and pursed my lips in a smile. See, even if the lost daughter is you, they were just sad for a few more days. They will slowly forget you. As soon as the childhood friend’s family entered the door, Mom pulled them to sit on the sofa affectionately, waving at me with a smile: “Chloe, come and say hello to your Uncle Shane’s family.” I put on a polite smile and went up to say hello. Looking at that familiar face, my nails almost dug into my palm. In my past life, the first time I saw Leo Shane was on the day I came home. He walked slowly down the stairs, his gaze falling on my wheelchair, revealing a look of disgust. At that time, he was already engaged to Mia. Mia was seriously ill. Knowing our kidneys matched, Leo coerced and bribed me to exchange kidneys with her. The day after I refused, a car suddenly rushed onto the sidewalk. I couldn’t dodge in time and was knocked flying. Those scenes swept over like a tide. Leo blinked at me, showing a friendly smile: “This must be Uncle Tao’s Chloe sister, hello.” I also smiled brightly: “Hello, Brother Leo.” Without Mia’s overt and covert squeezing out, and having solved a worry, my face became visibly round and fair, more and more like a child’s charming naivety. I had practiced in front of the mirror countless times. Smiling like this is the most pleasing and harmless.

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I awakened the Green Serpent bloodline of my family. Upon reaching adulthood, I must choose my gender once again. In my past life, to be with my boyfriend, I resolutely chose to remain a girl. I supported him and raised our children, accompanying him from a small business owner to the richest man in the capital. I raised our son and daughter to attend top universities. But on my fiftieth birthday, after eating the cake my husband made himself, I vomited black blood. My children watched from the side, with no intention of calling an ambulance. “Mom, just go peacefully. Auntie Jasmine will take care of us and Dad.” “Yeah, being your child is really embarrassing.” They relied on me for everything they had, yet they pushed me into the abyss without hesitation. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in the ancestral hall. The patriarch handed me the yellow paper for choosing my gender. “Yingying, make your decision.” 1 I took the yellow paper from the patriarch’s hand and wrote down my name stroke by stroke. Once the last stroke fell, this decision could never be changed. The patriarch looked at me in surprise. “Have you really thought this through? You want to be a man from now on?” “What about your boyfriend? Can he accept you changing your gender?” As he said this, Ethan was standing outside the door, looking at me eagerly. He was an outsider, couldn’t enter the ancestral hall, and couldn’t hear what we were saying. I devoutly lit the yellow paper and smiled at the patriarch. “Grandpa, I’ve thought it through. Before I completely change my gender, please keep it a secret for me.” “Alright, it’s your own business, you decide.” “The ceremony ends in a week. Your new ID will be sent over then.” A week. I silently repeated these two words. In a week, I would have a brand new life, beautiful as a dream. Before that, I must deal with Ethan. After walking out of the ancestral hall, the man immediately grabbed my hand. “Yingying, you’ve sacrificed so much for me. I won’t let you regret it.” “Are you willing to form a bond with me?” I was stunned for a moment. Ethan never mentioned this in my past life. Is he also reborn? I asked tentatively. “Forming a bond isn’t just marriage. Once the contract is effective, we can never be separated in this life.” “Will you really love me forever and never fall in love with anyone else?” “Of course.” The man looked at me affectionately, but I easily saw the familiar ruthlessness and ambition in his eyes. Exactly the same as when he poisoned me with his own hands in my past life. “Yingying, the thought of you possibly leaving me makes me feel like dying.” “I beg you, promise me, okay?” My stomach cramped. As if the poison crossed time and was tearing my internal organs apart again. I suppressed all the bitterness and smiled brightly at Ethan. “Okay, I promise you.” “I don’t want to be separated from you either. Let’s form the bond now.” I cut a lock of his hair, entwined it with a lock of mine, and asked Grandpa Patriarch to burn it in the ancestral hall. “I, Ethan, tie the knot with you today as husband and wife, loving each other without suspicion.” The patriarch hesitated: “Yingying, but aren’t you…?” Thinking of my instructions, he looked at us with complex eyes, and finally just sighed deeply. 2 I watched the hair turn to ash in the brazier. Finally, I revealed a sincere smile. That night, Ethan discussed the wedding details with my parents. He had lost his gentle and refined appearance from the day, sitting at the head of the table, asking without looking up. “Auntie, when will you transfer the house and car to my name?” My mother’s face darkened. “What do you mean?” “Let me be straight. My family has no money. Your family might have to cover the wedding expenses.” “If you care about money, we don’t have to have a wedding. I don’t mind.” “But after marriage, Qing Ying is my wife. Her house and car will be mine sooner or later. Isn’t it the same whether transferred early or late?” Saying this, he put a chicken leg in my bowl and asked me triumphantly. “Right, Yingying?” My parents’ gazes also focused on me. They knew this matter still depended on my opinion. “Yingying, you heard him. You haven’t even married yet, and he already wants to seize our family property.” “If you marry him, how will you live? Even if you continue being a girl, Mom and Dad can find you a good husband. Just nod, and we’ll kick him out right now.” My dad silently picked up a stick. Ethan hurriedly shouted. “We’ve already formed a bond! You can’t go back on it! If Qing Ying doesn’t become my wife, she can only die!” My parents were struck by lightning. Seeing my silence, they scolded me for being so muddled, so angry their heart conditions were about to flare up. I held my mother’s shoulders to comfort her. They haven’t seen Ethan’s true viciousness and shamelessness yet. God let me live again to make me realize what the abyss truly is. I turned to Ethan. “My family’s assets, except for this house my parents live in, are all under my name.” “There are a total of sixteen villas, two courtyard houses, seventy shops, thirty-four cars, and six hundred million in savings.” “If you want, I’ll transfer them all to you. This one stays for my parents’ retirement. Do you agree?” Ethan’s eyes burned with greed. In the past life, he became the richest man solely relying on my support. He knew I had money, but didn’t know I had this much money. He agreed immediately. “Deal.” “But your parents have to write a will now. After they die, this house can only be under my name.” I wasn’t surprised by his greed. I did everything he said. When the last deposit was transferred to Ethan. A snake scale appeared on his left arm. “What is this?” “The token of the bond. When three snake scales appear, the contract will be completely effective.” “Why wasn’t it there before?” He muttered in confusion, then quickly shut his mouth. Seeing me penniless yet still looking at him calmly. Ethan turned his head somewhat guiltily. “You don’t have to be unhappy. Isn’t my money your money? I won’t treat you badly. Only when money is in the man’s hands can the family stand.” In the past life, I initiated the bond. When he swore to treat me well, it was much more sincere than now. But what did he do in the end? A glass of poisoned wine sent me to the West. 3 With money, Ethan first bought himself his favorite heavy motorcycle. Then he swiped the card crazily, buying a pile of jewelry, designer clothes, and skincare products that only women like. Consumption records flowed to my phone like water. What he gave me was a gold-plated bracelet for 9.9 on Pinduoduo. I accepted it with a smile. Not a single word of complaint. Four days before the ceremony was complete, Ethan suddenly dragged me out of the room in the middle of the night. Wearing only pajamas, I was dragged to the hospital by him. “My sister was in a car accident. You have the same blood type as her. You must donate blood to her.” Entering the emergency room. I knew, his so-called sister was Jasmine. Auntie Jasmine in my son’s mouth. The woman Ethan and the children truly loved. The man grabbed the nurse about to enter the operating room. “Draw her blood. Save Jasmine no matter what.” The nurse drew 400ml from my arm. Ethan frowned fiercely. “Wasn’t it supposed to be 1000ml? Why stop?” The nurse looked at him troubledly. “More than 400ml is dangerous. 1000ml will cause this lady to go into shock. Besides, the patient inside isn’t seriously injured, and the blood we ordered is on the way.” “I don’t care. Her blood is good, draw hers.” “She’s my wife. Don’t I know her body? It’s just 1000ml of blood, what’s wrong with drawing it?” Onlookers whispered. “This man is really not a thing, treating his wife as a blood bag?” “Exactly, blood is blood, is there high and low grade? I think he just wants to kill his wife.” “Sister, don’t agree. It’s not worth hurting yourself for others.” I smiled and extended my arm to the nurse. “Draw it.” “Ethan asked me for it, I must give it to him.” The nurse looked at me in astonishment, as if saying I was crazy. The people who were fighting for me just now also turned their heads and cursed me for having no brain, saying good words can’t persuade a ghost determined to die. I was unmoved. Watching the blood flow out of my body. How did Ethan know my blood was good? In the past life, he entered ICU with pneumonia, doctors said he wouldn’t live. It was me who let my own blood to make medicine for him. That’s how he survived. So in this life, even if the hospital didn’t lack blood, even if Jasmine just lost some blood and wasn’t in danger. He still insisted on draining all my blood to save his white moonlight. I lost consciousness drowsily, waking up with Ethan by my bed. I lifted his sleeve and saw the second snake scale on his left hand. Ethan saw that snake scale, eyes full of complexity, comforting me softly. “Yingying, I didn’t expect you to love me so much. It’s my fault this time, I’m sorry.” “The doctor said you lost too much blood, miscarried, and couldn’t keep your uterus. You can never have children again.” I smiled. “Is that so? Let it go then, I don’t care.” “You’re not angry?!” Seeing my indifference, Ethan’s eyes were filled with anger. “That was our child! Why aren’t you sad it died?! Why didn’t you tell me earlier you were pregnant!” Would he have given up drawing my blood if I told him earlier? 4 And what’s worth cherishing about Ethan’s children? I raised them painstakingly, giving them the most luxurious life and the best educational resources. The son was smart but rebellious. The daughter was dull and obedient, but low IQ. Sending such two people to top universities, did it rely on their own efforts and talents? Everything relied on my ancestral bloodline and my support. But did these two ingrates have any gratitude towards me? Watching their mother struggle on the floor. Ten fingers scratching blood from the pain. They were still happily discussing where to take Jasmine for a trip. Thinking of this, I held Ethan’s hand. “Ethan, it’s already happened, what can we do?” “Fortunately, sister is saved. She is safe and sound. If you want children in the future, we can just adopt hers.” “Is… is that so?” Ethan was shocked by my reasonableness. He seemed unable to figure out how I could sacrifice myself to this extent. But my proposal did no harm to him. So the man pulled me into his arms. “Yingying, how lucky am I to have a wife like you.” “We will adopt Jasmine’s children in the future. If you teach them well, they will definitely be successful.” “When the time comes, let the children be filial to you. If they dare not listen, I will definitely teach them a lesson.” He spoke sweeter than a song. But in his imagination, the one being taught a lesson would definitely be me.

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1 In the third year after my brain tumor diagnosis, my attending physician was my wife. An hour before my surgery, Dr. Claire Sterling suddenly pulled my anesthesiologist and lead surgeon. Her first love, Julian, who suffered from depression, was having an appendicitis attack and was threatening to kill himself. “Julian is psychologically fragile, his surgery has to be flawless. What’s the big deal if you just accommodate him?” “You’re a man. Can’t you handle a little pain?” She wheeled my ventilator to her ex-lover’s room, leaving me to sweat through waves of agony in the hallway. Watching her fuss over him, her back turned to me, my heart finally died. I tugged on the corner of her coat. “Just sign this one last thing, and I’ll never bother you again.” Without a single glance, she scribbled her signature across the document with a flourish. She even smiled, teasing me for finally learning not to be jealous of her patients. She promised she’d be back to sit with me through my chemo as soon as Julian’s stitches were out. As she turned and walked into the OR to be with him, I ripped the IV needle from my hand. She had no idea. What she had just signed was a Do Not Resuscitate order. … The draft in the hallway cut through my gown, slicing at my skin like a thousand tiny knives. I leaned against the cold wall, the tumor in my head pressing on my optic nerve, my vision pulsing with darkness. It was a grade IV glioblastoma. The “king of brain cancers.” Today was supposed to be my best chance, a surgical window I had waited three agonizing months for. Claire was one of the country’s top neurosurgeons. She was also my wife. She had once held my hands, her gaze resolute, and vowed, “Ethan, trust me with your life. I will snatch you back from the jaws of death.” But ten minutes ago, a single phone call from Julian had made her feed every one of those vows to the dogs. Julian said his stomach hurt. He suspected appendicitis. He said the pain was so bad he wanted to jump off the roof. Without a second thought, Claire postponed my surgery. “Ethan, your tumor has been growing for three years. A little more time won’t make a difference.” “Julian is different. He has severe depression. What if the pain becomes too much and he does something stupid?” She ordered the nurses to wheel my equipment away, her voice sharp with impatience as she lectured me. I looked at her anxious profile and felt like I was seeing a stranger. In five years of marriage, I had never seen her so flustered. Not even on the day I was diagnosed. Back then, she had just looked at the scans calmly, analyzing the surgical options. I finally understood. She wasn’t cold by nature. I just wasn’t the one she was warm for. The moment the IV needle came out, blood arced through the air, splattering on the linoleum floor. I ignored the sting, my hand clenching the signed DNR form. The paper was crumpled and damp in my fist. The signature, “Dr. Claire Sterling,” was strong and confident, a bitter, mocking parody of her promise. A young nurse passing by gasped and rushed over, fumbling to apply pressure to the wound. “Mr. Hayes, what are you doing? Dr. Sterling just went to…” The nurse trailed off, her eyes filled with pity. Everyone in the hospital knew. They all knew about Claire’s unforgettable first love, the one that got away. And they all knew that I, her husband, wasn’t even a backup plan in her heart. I waved her off, indicating I was fine. “Don’t tell her,” I rasped, my throat feeling like it was full of sand. The nurse’s eyes welled up, but she nodded. Bracing myself against the wall, I shuffled back to my room, one step at a time. With every move, the pain in my head intensified, like a power drill boring into my temples. I collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling tiles. Memories flooded back. I remembered three years ago, right after the diagnosis. Claire had held me and cried all night, swearing she would sell everything we owned to cure me. She truly loved me then, didn’t she? Or at least, she thought she did. Until Julian came back to the country. The man who had once abandoned her for his career needed only to crook his finger, and she would drop her armor and run back to him. I closed my eyes, a single cold tear tracing a path down my temple. Claire, this was the last chance I’m giving you. And the last one I’m giving myself. Since you chose to save him… I will let you. And I will finally let myself go. The pain woke me. The pressure inside my skull was immense, bringing on waves of nausea so violent I felt like I was trying to turn my stomach inside out. But I hadn’t eaten in two days. All that came up was bitter, yellow-green bile. The room was empty, the only sound the monotonous beep of the heart monitor. No Claire. No water. Not even a nurse’s aide. When Claire pulled my medical team, she’d reassigned my private caregiver as well. She’d said Julian was shy around strangers and needed someone familiar. Fighting through the agony, I reached for the bottle of painkillers on the nightstand. My hand trembled uncontrollably. The bottle slipped, clattered to the floor, and rolled under the bed. I stared at it in despair, a perfect metaphor for my own life, teetering on the edge. Just then, the door creaked open. Thinking it was a nurse, I forced my head up. But it was Claire. She was still in her white coat, her face etched with fatigue, but her eyes were bright. It was a light I only ever saw when she looked at Julian. She was carrying a thermos. Seeing the pathetic state I was in, her brow furrowed, a flicker of disgust in her eyes. “How did you manage this? You’re a grown man, can’t you even hold onto a pill bottle?” She walked over but didn’t bother to pick it up for me. Instead, she slammed the thermos down on the table. “Julian’s surgery was a success. My mother made him some chicken soup. He couldn’t finish it, so I brought you the rest.” I looked at the thermos, and my stomach churned. Julian’s leftovers. Just like her love. Always secondhand, always cold. “I’m not hungry.” I turned my head away, unable to look at her. Claire’s expression hardened. “Ethan, how long are you going to keep this up?” “I already told you, Julian’s situation is special. Can’t you be a little more understanding?” “I’ve already rescheduled your surgery. It’s for next Wednesday.” Next Wednesday. A cold, mirthless laugh echoed in my mind. I knew my own body. I’d be lucky to last the weekend. Besides, she hadn’t even looked at my latest scans. If I’d had the surgery today, I might have had a thirty percent chance of survival. But now, having missed the optimal window, not even a miracle could save me. “Claire,” I said her name, my voice so calm it surprised even me. “If I died, would you be sad?” She stared at me for a second, then scoffed as if I’d told a joke. “Are you serious, Ethan?” “So I postponed your surgery for a few days, and now you’re threatening me with death? You never used to be like this. Why are you being so dramatic?” As she spoke, she opened the thermos. The aroma of chicken soup filled the room, making me feel even sicker. “Hurry up and drink this. Don’t waste my mother’s effort.” She poured a bowl and held it to my lips. The movement was rough, careless, with no regard for whether the soup was too hot. I didn’t open my mouth. Her patience snapped. She slammed the bowl back on the table. Hot soup sloshed over the side, scalding the back of my hand. “Ethan! Don’t push your luck!” she yelled. Just then, her phone rang. It was the special ringtone she had set for Julian. The anger on her face vanished instantly, replaced by a look of pure, gentle affection. “Hey, Julian? What’s wrong? Does your incision hurt?” “Okay, don’t be scared. I’ll be right there.” She hung up, and without another glance at me, she turned and walked out. At the door, she paused and threw one last cold remark over her shoulder. “If you don’t want to drink it, then starve.” “When you’ve sorted yourself out, you can come find me.” The door slammed shut with a deafening bang. The world was silent again. I looked at the pill bottle on the floor and started to laugh. And as I laughed, the tears began to fall. Claire, this is probably the last time we’ll see each other. The next day, I felt surprisingly light. The doctors have a term for it: a final surge of energy before the end. I knew my time was short. I forced myself up and started packing. There wasn’t much. After three years in and out of the hospital, my possessions had dwindled to almost nothing. A few changes of clothes, a couple of books, and a picture frame. In the frame was our wedding photo. In the picture, her smile was forced, her eyes looking just past the camera. I didn’t understand it then. I thought she was just nervous. Now I know. Julian was at our wedding. She was looking at him. I took the frame, pulled out the photo, and tore it into tiny pieces. I threw them in the trash. Then, I called my lawyer. “Mr. Davis, that will we drew up. You can execute it now.” There was a long silence on the other end of the line, followed by a sigh. “Mr. Hayes, are you certain? Donating everything?” “Yes. Everything.” I owned three properties and had several million in savings. It was all pre-marital. Claire always thought I was just a simple programmer. The truth was, I was a silent partner in that publicly-traded company. She never asked about my work, and I never bothered to tell her. I used to think that when my time came, I would leave it all to her, so she would never have to worry about money. Now, it seemed unnecessary. She had Julian. She had her brilliant career as a neurosurgeon. She didn’t need my money. My money would be better off helping poor people who couldn’t afford medical care. After hanging up, I felt a sense of release, as if a massive weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Claire came by that afternoon. She seemed to be in a good mood, carrying a fancy gift bag. She paused when she saw me packing. “What are you doing? Getting discharged?” There was a hint of surprise in her voice, but mostly indifference. “Changing rooms,” I lied. “Oh.” She didn’t press the issue. She handed me the gift bag. “This is from Julian. He wanted to thank you for giving him your surgery slot.” “It’s a watch. A Patek Philippe. It’s quite expensive.” I took the bag and glanced inside. It was a Patek, but it was one of the most old-fashioned men’s models. And there was a distinct crease in the leather strap. It was used. Something Julian had worn, or perhaps, no longer wanted. Seeing my silence, Claire assumed I was still angry. She came over and, in a rare gesture of affection, put her arm around my shoulders. “Come on, honey, don’t be mad. Julian meant well.” “Besides, I’ve already spoken to the hospital director. I’m performing your surgery myself next Wednesday. I promise, you’ll come out of it completely fine.” She smelled faintly of antiseptic, mixed with the scent of the cologne Julian always wore. It was suffocating. I gently pushed her away and placed the watch on the table. “Thank you,” I said, looking into her eyes and managing my first real smile in days. “I love it.” Claire was clearly taken aback by my compliance. She stared for a moment, then a satisfied smile spread across her face. “That’s more like it. I knew you were the most reasonable man I know.” “Oh, by the way, it’s Julian’s birthday tonight. We’ve booked a private room at a restaurant to celebrate. Do you want to come? It’ll be fun.” Take me to her first love’s birthday party? To celebrate him stealing my only chance at life? Claire, you really know how to twist the knife. I shook my head. “No, I’m not feeling well. I think I’ll rest.” Claire didn’t insist. In fact, she looked relieved. “Okay, you get some rest then. I’ll have an aide bring you some soup.” “I’ll bring you back a piece of cake after dinner.” She hummed a little tune as she touched up her makeup in the mirror, applying a shade of fiery red lipstick I had never seen on her before. Just before she left, she seemed to remember something and glanced back at me. “Ethan, after the surgery, let’s go on a trip. To Iceland. The place you always wanted to see.” I looked at her, my eyes calm and empty. “Okay.” She smiled and left. The crisp click-clack of her heels echoed down the hall, growing fainter and fainter until it disappeared completely. I turned my gaze to the window. The sky was darkening. Heavy clouds were rolling in. A storm was coming. Claire. There would be no surgery. There would be no Iceland. Only death. Eleven o’clock at night. The rain was coming down in sheets. Thunder rattled the windowpanes. Lying in bed, it felt like the tumor inside my skull was about to explode. The pain sent my body into convulsions, my fingernails digging deep into the mattress. I knew this was it. The final moments. The tumor had ruptured. Intracranial hemorrhage. Brain herniation. Each term a step on the stairway to hell. I gasped for air, but it felt like my lungs couldn’t draw in a single molecule of oxygen. My vision blurred, the world fracturing into double images. With the last of my strength, I pressed the call button. No one came. The sound of the bell echoed down the empty hallway like a ghostly wail. Then I remembered. The nurse on duty, a kind young woman named Olivia, had been called away by Claire. Julian had apparently drunk too much at his party and needed someone to bring him a sobriety tonic. This entire floor was a dead zone. I rolled out of bed, trying to crawl toward the door to get help. My body hit the floor with a heavy thud. The impact sent a fresh wave of agony through me, and I almost blacked out. I bit my tongue, using the sharp pain to stay conscious. I didn’t want to die here. Not like this. Not so pathetically. I dragged myself toward the door, inch by agonizing inch. Every movement drained all my energy. Blood trickled from my nose and ears, leaving a long, dark smear on the polished floor. Finally, I reached the door. I slapped at it with my blood-soaked hand. “Help… me…” My voice was so weak I could barely hear it myself. Just as I thought I would die in this storm-tossed night, the door opened. It was a medical intern making his rounds. When he saw me, covered in blood, his face went white with terror. “Mr. Hayes! Mr. Hayes, what happened?!” He fumbled to help me up, yelling for his colleagues. In seconds, a team of doctors and nurses rushed in, lifting me onto a gurney. “Pupils dilated! Respiratory failure! Quick! Get him to the ER!” “Notify the family! Notify his wife!” “Where’s his physician? Where’s Dr. Sterling? Someone call Dr. Sterling!” In the chaos, I heard someone shouting Claire’s name. The intern, Leo, pulled out his phone with trembling hands and dialed her number. It rang for a long time before she picked up. The sound of loud music and men’s laughter blared from the other end. “Hello? Who is this?” Claire’s voice was slurred with alcohol and laced with annoyance. “Dr. Sterling! It’s Leo from the ER!” “It’s Mr. Hayes… He’s… he’s in critical condition!” “The tumor’s ruptured, he’s herniating! He needs emergency surgery, now!” “Please, you have to come back! We’re losing him!” Leo’s voice was cracking, sweat beading on his forehead. There was a two-second pause on the other end. Then came Claire’s voice, as cold and sharp as ice. “Herniating?” “Heh. Leo, you’re a neurosurgery resident. You know what brain herniation looks like. He was fine this afternoon, packing his things. How could he suddenly be herniating?” “Is he acting again? Tell him to stop the charade.” “It’s Julian’s birthday. Does he have to cause trouble for me right now?” Leo lost it. He screamed into the phone. “Dr. Sterling! It’s not an act! It’s real!” “Mr. Hayes is unconscious! He’s bleeding from his ears and nose! We can’t even get a blood pressure reading!” “Please, come back! I’m begging you!” From the other end, I could hear Julian’s voice. “Claire, who is it? What a buzzkill.” Followed by Claire’s gentle, soothing tone. “It’s nothing. Just an unreasonable patient.” Then, she spoke her last words to me, through the phone. “Tell Ethan that’s enough.” “I don’t have time for his games tonight.” “If he wants to die so badly, then let him.” Beep… beep… beep… The line went dead. Lying on the gurney, I watched the fluorescent lights streak past overhead. A tear escaped the corner of my eye, mingling with the blood. The wave on the heart monitor finally flatlined. The world went dark. The red light above the emergency room door was blinding, but inside, it was silent. There was no whine of a defibrillator, no rhythmic thud of chest compressions. The doctors had seen the paper clutched in my hand. The Do Not Resuscitate order. It had not only Claire’s signature but also my own bloody thumbprint, pressed there just moments ago. “The patient… refuses resuscitation,” the intern, Leo, choked out, tears streaming down his face as he looked at the blood-soaked document. “But… but he’s so young…” The senior ER doctor sighed and pulled down his mask. “Respect the patient’s wishes.” “In his condition, even if we brought him back, he’d be in a vegetative state. Let him go with dignity.” They stopped what they were doing, standing silently around the operating table. And so I lay there, still. My consciousness began to fade, my soul feeling as if it were drifting out of my body. I saw Claire. She was still in that luxurious private room. Julian was cutting a cake, dabbing the first piece of frosting on her nose. She was laughing, her eyes full of adoration. Everyone was cheering, chanting, “Kiss, kiss, kiss!” Blushing, Claire leaned in and planted a kiss on Julian’s cheek. “Happy birthday, Julian. Thank you for coming back to me.” What a heartwarming scene. If you could ignore the fact that at this very moment, her husband was lying on a cold steel table, growing colder by the second. Suddenly, Claire’s phone rang again. It was the hospital.

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I’m a rookie paparazzo. To get my big break, I spent six months staking out Hollywood’s golden boy, Caleb Hayes. But I didn’t catch him. Instead, I caught his rumored secret son. The kid went to elementary school; I trailed him. The kid tripped; I picked him up. The kid wanted cotton candy; I paid for it. Later, another pap snapped a photo and the internet decided I was the baby mama. I went viral instantly. I panicked and tweeted: [I am NOT!] I didn’t expect Caleb Hayes himself to reply to my tweet: [Yes, you are.] That night, the internet broke. 1 I haven’t been in the paparazzi game for long. But as the saying goes, go big or go home. I was tired of scraping by, so I decided to aim for the stars. Specifically, Caleb Hayes. I sat in my beat-up, second-hand Honda Civic, scrolling through Caleb’s profile on my phone. Caleb Hayes. Twenty-eight. Ivy League grad. Returned to LA a few years ago and instantly conquered Hollywood with his god-tier looks and Oscar-worthy acting. Zero scandals. Squeaky clean. But the rumor mill whispered that he had a secret child. A man that perfect with no skeletons in his closet? I didn’t buy it. So, I parked myself outside his luxury apartment complex in Beverly Hills for months. I saw nothing. Not even his shadow. My savings were dwindling fast. Just as I was aggressively chewing on a stale bagel, my eyes widened. Someone was coming out of the gate! Could it be Caleb? I ducked down, peering over the dashboard. A young man walked out, holding the hand of a small boy. The kid looked about seven or eight, messy dark hair. I couldn’t see his face clearly from this distance, but my heart started racing. Is that the rumored son? 2 Terrified of being spotted, I slouched in my seat like a gremlin. The young man—definitely not Caleb—was holding something and complaining to the kid. “Little Leo, if you don’t eat this, you’re gonna starve at school.” Leo ignored him completely, head down, marching forward. They were walking right toward my car. As they got closer, I saw Leo’s face. He was pouting, but he was undeniably cute. Like a cherub in a designer jacket. “Seriously, kid, you’re impossible! Even Caleb isn’t this high maintenance,” the man grumbled, scooping Leo up into his arms. “Let’s go. Uncle Mitch is driving you.” Hearing the name “Caleb,” my internal radar went crazy. I watched them hop into an SUV. I didn’t think twice. I started my engine and followed them. This was a major breakthrough. If I found the son, the father—and the scandal—wouldn’t be far behind. I tailed them to a prestigious private elementary school and watched the little guy walk in. I figured the mom might pick him up later. That would be the money shot. I waited all day. From morning light until the bell rang in the afternoon. A flood of kids in uniforms poured out. Parents in Teslas and Range Rovers crowded the entrance. I wasn’t a parent, but I was just as anxious. Then I saw him. Leo stood by the gate with his oversized backpack, his dark eyes scanning the crowd. When he didn’t see anyone familiar, his shoulders slumped. He looked so lonely. He tried to squeeze through the crowd. But a frantic mom, rushing to get to her own kid, didn’t see him. She bumped right into him. Leo stumbled and fell onto the pavement. My breath hitched. Wait. Why is he on the ground? The parents were pushing and shoving. I was terrified he’d get trampled. Abandoning my cover, I threw my car door open and sprinted over. I grabbed his arm and pulled him up. “Hey, you okay?” Leo, who had been sitting on the asphalt, looked up at me. He blinked, dusted off his knees, and asked in a quiet voice, “Who are you?” His voice was soft and ridiculously adorable. I brushed some dirt off his jacket. “Uh, I’m a fan of your dad.” Fans follow Caleb. Paparazzi follow Caleb. Same difference, right? Just to make sure I didn’t look like a kidnapper, I added, “Kiddo, go wait by your teacher. Don’t leave with anyone unless you know them, okay?” Then I ran back to my car, heart pounding. Stupid, Riley. Stupid. I totally blew my cover. When “Uncle Mitch” comes back, he’ll know something is up and chase me off. 3 I stared at the sky through my sunroof, feeling tragic. But my conscience wouldn’t let me leave until I saw the uncle pick Leo up safely. I expected a cease-and-desist letter from Caleb’s agency that night. Rumor had it Caleb Hayes had a short fuse with privacy invaders. One pap who crossed the line was basically blacklisted from the industry. But surprisingly, I slept like a baby and woke up to zero threats. Maybe Caleb was too deep in character for his new movie to notice. I dodged a bullet. I went back to the apartment complex, cautious but bold. I watched Leo go to school and come back every day. A few times, I swear the kid looked right at my car. Uncle Mitch, however, seemed oblivious. Until one morning. I was yawning, opening a bag of donut holes I bought for breakfast, ready to start my shift. Leo walked out of the complex alone. No Uncle Mitch. No Caleb. I blinked. They aren’t letting a seven-year-old walk to school in LA, are they? Just as I thought that, there was a tap on my window. I jumped. I rolled it down to see a cute, frantic face. The sun hit his eyes, making them look lighter. He looked up at me through long lashes. “Pretty sister, can you drive me to school? My uncle overslept and he won’t wake up. He’s like a log.” My jaw dropped. “Huh?” I’m a paparazzo. And you want a ride? 4 I pinched myself. This had to be a hallucination caused by lack of caffeine. “Kid, do you know how crazy that sounds?” But Leo just stared at me with big, pleading eyes. “If we don’t go now, I’ll get detention.” He tilted his head. He looked innocent, harmless, and dangerously cute. I looked at the kid, then at my phone. I got an idea. I hit record on my camera. “Okay, buddy, repeat after me: ‘I am voluntarily asking Riley for a ride to school.’” I haven’t committed any crimes, and I’d like to keep it that way. Kidnapping charges are not on my bucket list. Leo looked confused for a second, then nodded solemnly. “I am asking Sister Riley to take me to school.” Good enough. I put the phone away, got out, and buckled him into the back seat. I knew the route to the private school by heart now. At a red light, I glanced at my bag of donut holes. Then I saw Leo in the rearview mirror. He was staring at the donuts like they were gold. “Hey…” I hesitated. “Did you eat breakfast?” Leo slumped. “No.” My heart cracked a little. I handed the bag back to him. “Want some?” His eyes lit up. He took the bag with both hands. His ears turned a little pink. “You bought these for me? You’re way better than Uncle Mitch. His cooking tastes like burnt rubber.” I barely heard his rambling. I was too busy mourning my breakfast. The car soon smelled like sugar and glaze. My stomach growled. Ten minutes later, we pulled up to the school. “Here we are.” I watched him hop out. He took a few steps, then turned around. I checked the back seat. Did he forget his backpack? No. He walked back to my window. “Sister, will you pick me up this afternoon?” Me: “…” Absolutely… not! But looking at his hopeful face, my brain malfunctioned. “Uh… sure?” Why can’t I say no to a kid who calls me ‘Sister’ instead of ‘Auntie’? Leo beamed. “Promise?” “Yeah, promise.” He ran inside. I put my hands on the steering wheel, ready to make a U-turn to get actual food, when it hit me. I’m a stalker with a camera. I haven’t gotten a single scandalous photo of Caleb, but I’m babysitting his kid? Damn you, Caleb Hayes. You owe me gas money.

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I married the poor student my family sponsored. On our wedding night, after he took my virginity, he got up and left without any hesitation. He shook off my hand trying to keep him, his eyes full of disdain. “I’ve already touched you as you wished, what more do you want? Being so cheap, do you need me to find another man to serve you?” The next moment, he actually swung a knife and chopped off the finger that had touched me. Dragging his mutilated hand, he went to find the girl, also a poor student, whom he kept as a mistress outside, begging for her pity. “Mia, I didn’t bring the dirty hand back. I’m clean. Please let me accompany you.” Later, I also kept a poor student. But he held my hand with red eyes, refusing to let go. “Sarah, please don’t abandon me.” But why did he think I would want a dirty cripple? 1 When I got out of Leo’s bed, my legs were weak. Picking up the clothes on the floor, I was about to leave when someone grabbed my wrist. Leo looked pitiful, like a puppy about to be abandoned. “Sister, can you divorce and let me marry you?” “Okay.” He had prepared a bellyful of words to persuade me, but in the end, he opened his mouth and froze for a moment, then hugged me into his arms. “Sister said this…” Perhaps afraid I would go back on my word, he childishly wanted to pinky swear with me. “Three days later, I will send the betrothal gift to sister. We will hold the wedding in a month. You don’t need to worry about anything, I’ll prepare…” Coming out of Leo’s place, I drove home after all. I thought Lucas wouldn’t be there, but I ran into him. This was the first time we met since the fallout that day. He was wearing a loose bathrobe, and the exposed skin was covered with post-coital red marks. Seeing me for a moment, the disgust in his eyes couldn’t be suppressed. He held a freshly brewed coffee in his hand, the mutilated finger wrapped in gauze, looking very dazzling. He glanced at me casually, his tone full of sarcasm. “What, went back to snitch?” “Before marriage, you knew I didn’t want to marry you, but you insisted on marrying me. Now it’s like this, what are you still making a fuss about?” He spoke carelessly, took a breath, and spoke again with a generous look. “However, Mia is generous and doesn’t mind living under the same roof with you. In the future, you will be responsible for taking care of me and her life. As long as you don’t cause trouble anymore, I reluctantly won’t kick you out, nor divorce you.” I was amused by these words. This house is mine; even a chopstick was bought by me. That person entered my house, slept with my husband, and asked me to serve them, this adulterous couple. It’s amazing he could say it. Does he really think I can’t live without him? I glanced coldly at the face that once made me dream, and replied coldly. “No need to be reluctant, we divorce now.” I handed him the divorce agreement I printed when I came back. A crack appeared on Lucas’s originally cold face. He frowned instantly and said angrily. “Sarah, threatening me with such despicable tricks, do you think I will compromise?” “I won’t abandon Mia!” He thought I was playing hard to get. But after he left me on the wedding night and chopped off the finger that touched me… I really wanted a divorce. Looking at his appearance of wishing to fight me desperately for Mia, I suddenly wanted to find an answer. “Then why didn’t you say before marriage that you must have that Mia?” “You said I insisted on marrying you, but clearly you proposed marriage to my dad. Who is making trouble?” 2 When my dad brought him back back then, it was true that he intended to make him a live-in son-in-law, but he didn’t deliberately matchmake me and him. It was his repeated approaches that made me secretly fall for him. Although he never clarified the relationship between us, he still did everything couples should do with me. Only missing the last step. I thought we were in love, until he came back from a business trip a year ago, everything became different. He started to be cold and indifferent to me, even resisting contact with me. I thought he had a change of heart, but in a flash, he asked my dad for marriage with me again. From trying on wedding dresses to buying wedding rings, he was absent with the excuse of being busy. I asked him if he encountered any trouble. He fobbed me off with the excuse that the company was too busy. I was worried about him and even begged my dad not to put so much pressure on him. Even secretly bought a seven-figure watch to give him to make him happy. Thought everything was a beautiful beginning. Until the night of the wedding, he acted uncharacteristically, chopped off the finger that touched me, and said those words to me. “I married you only because of gratitude. Don’t hope for anything else.” “This counts as touching you. Take care of yourself.” He shook off my hand and left home without any nostalgia. I followed him secretly without knowing why, and saw in front of a dilapidated residential area, he used his bloody hand to carefully embrace the poor student we sponsored. He pressed against her neck, speaking heartfelt love words to her affectionately. “I married her just to give you a better life. When I grasp real power, I will divorce her and marry you.” He even raised the hand with the severed middle finger, claiming credit from the person opposite. “Look, Mia, I didn’t bring the dirty hand back. I’m clean. Please let me accompany you.” At that moment, the sky collapsed and the earth cracked, only the sound of the world collapsing filled my eardrums. So marrying me was just to let this woman live a good life? I really didn’t know whether to be happy for his true feelings or sad for myself. “Sarah, you…” He stepped forward angrily and grabbed my arm. The pain brought my thoughts back. Mia came down from upstairs at this time. 3 She was wearing my silk pajamas and walked quickly to me. Started crying before opening her mouth. “Sister, please don’t be angry with Lucas. It’s all my fault. I love him too much. I swear I won’t destroy the relationship between you. Please don’t drive me away, okay?” She raised her hands, holding a red string in her palm, like offering a treasure. “I knew sister would be unhappy, so I used all my savings to buy this for sister to apologize.” I looked at the nine-dollar-ninety red string in her hand, and the corner of my mouth pulled out a sneer. Seeing this, Lucas scolded me with a black face. “Sarah, to what extent do you want to bully Mia?” “Mia is so good to you, yet you give her attitude?” He protectively held Mia in his arms distressedly, but looked at me as if wishing to kill me. But what did I do wrong? When I first met Mia, I wasn’t prepared. Casually gave her a bracelet I just bought, but was despised. “Sister, I know I don’t deserve your good things, but sister can’t humiliate me like this, deliberately buying cheap gifts for me.” That bracelet was a special model of a big brand, without any logo. I knew she misunderstood, kindly explained, but was said to be mocking her for not seeing the world. Because of this, Lucas complained about me for a few days. Now she takes a broken red string and wants me to forget that she destroyed my marriage… Who is bullying whom? Too lazy to look at the two, I turned to leave. But the person behind me was relentless. Mia grabbed the corner of my clothes, and the next moment she knelt down in front of me with a thud. “Sister, all mistakes are my fault. If you look down on me, I accept it. Just beg you not to be angry with Lucas.” She looked at me like she had been bullied, but I saw the bracelet on her wrist. That was the dowry my mom left me, and also her relic. Anger filled all my nerves. I can ignore her wearing my pajamas and sleeping with my man, but I can’t ignore her taking my mom’s things. I grabbed her wrist, trying to take the bracelet off. Result next moment, I was pushed to the ground. Lucas reached out and pulled the person up from the ground to protect her behind him, turned his head and scolded me. “Sarah, you are simply bullying people too much…” “That’s my stuff!” I roared. Lucas’s gaze paused on Mia’s wrist for a moment, then frowned and argued. “You have so many jewelry, it’s a waste not to wear them. Mia just borrowed it to wear, what’s the fuss?” “Mia has lived a hard life since childhood, family poor, not even a decent piece of jewelry. What’s wrong with lending her to wear? Besides, it’s not like she won’t return it to you. Why are you so stingy?” But he should know what that bracelet represents to me? Meeting my red eyes, he seemed a little guilty and looked away. “Big deal, I’ll let you attend the birthday party in three days. Are you satisfied now?” He looked like he was giving me alms, expecting my gratitude. Mia stood up to object. “No!” Perhaps realizing her loss of composure, she cleared her throat and explained softly. “It’s my fault for wearing sister’s things privately. I won’t do it again. Lucas, you don’t need to wrong yourself for me. Birthday is such an important thing, it can’t be used as an exchange condition.” She turned to look at me again, begging in a low voice. “Sister, I know I don’t deserve to wear good things. I’ll just return the bracelet to you…” She seemed to be acting out of spite, taking the bracelet off her hand. Next moment, she threw it directly at me. 4 The bracelet fell to the ground with a sound, instantly shattering into pieces. Fragments cut my exposed calf. But I didn’t feel any pain at all, only the fragments on the ground in my eyes. The moment the bracelet shattered, it seemed to sever the last bond between me and my mom. Still remember before the sickbed, my mom put the bracelet in my hand, instructing reluctantly. “In the future, this bracelet will be mom’s protection for you. Rest assured, as long as the bracelet is there, mom is always there.” But now this bracelet is broken. Heart bleeding, hands holding the bracelet were trembling. I couldn’t believe this was true, stubbornly trying to gather them together again. But broken is broken, how can it be reunited. I looked up at the people above with red eyes. Lucas hurriedly protected the person tightly behind him, saying nonchalantly. “She didn’t mean it. It’s just a broken bracelet, I’ll compensate you.” I retorted with a hoarse voice and a sneer. “This bracelet is eight million. Do you think you can afford it?” Lucas’s eyes darkened immediately. He felt I was insulting him for being poor. For so many years, I carefully maintained his pitiful self-esteem. Even if he ate from our family and wore from our family, I still told him that he deserved all this. Maybe hearing too many lies, he really developed a sense of superiority. I held those fragments and slowly stood up from the ground. Mia seemed scared, body trembling, but still walked out from behind Lucas. She knelt down to me again, kowtowing hard. “Sister, I was wrong. I didn’t expect you wouldn’t catch it. I really didn’t mean it.” “Please don’t have a rift with Lucas. He hasn’t had an easy life in your family for so many years. If there is any fault, it’s all mine.” Even at this moment, she didn’t forget to provoke the relationship between me and Lucas. She postured to kowtow again, but was pulled up from the ground by Lucas. He glared at me, determined to cut me into pieces. “You did so much, just to drive Mia away and get me, right?” “I fulfill your wish, I’ll go to you tonight. Are you satisfied now?” I looked at Lucas coldly, asking disdainfully. “Why do you think you are more important than eight million?” “Lucas, let’s divorce.” Lucas’s pitiful self-esteem was touched again, raising his hand to grab me. “When will you stop making trouble? Are you only happy if Mia is sad?” “Stop messing around, okay? I’m really tired.” He looked helpless, as if exhausted by my torture. “Calm down first. I’ll come to find you tonight.” Turned around and left with Mia. The moment the door closed, all grievances and anger poured out. Don’t know how long I cried squatting on the ground, the doorbell rang outside. When I opened the door, I saw several men in black carrying boxes in their hands, bowing to me respectfully. “Miss Sarah, this is our young master’s betrothal gift. Ten boxes of gold and silver jewelry, five boxes of antique calligraphy and paintings, twenty boxes of haute couture clothes and bags, and one billion cash gift. Please check.” I looked at these people in surprise, asking puzzledly. “Your young master is…” “Leo, young master of the Zhou family.”

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The night Lila’s intern-turned-kept-boy accused me of flunking him on purpose, she sent our son to an illegal clinic. “Give Rhys his spot on the Westbrook Research Fellowship back, or they will cut Finn open. Alive.” I knelt, slamming my forehead against the floor, begging her to tell me where they had taken him. She finally conceded. But when I raced to the location, all I found was Finn’s small, disemboweled body. His small, freezing hand clutched mine. “Dad,” he whispered, his voice a thread, “it hurts so bad.” I dissolved, a wreck of sobs, my trembling fingers fumbling with my phone to call Lila, to plead for help. Her voice was devoid of warmth, a sheet of ice. “Dying? Perfect. I’m pregnant with Rhys’s baby. We can use Finn’s things directly.” I felt the life draining out of my son, his body cooling in my arms, but I couldn’t give up. “Please… we can still get him to the hospital, he might survive!” “Stop the performance! Owen, Rhys picked Finn up hours ago! Surviving? Honestly, don’t you ever tire of this pathetic theater?” 1 I held Finn close, his body going colder, heavier in my arms. Lila’s voice, poisoned ice, cut through the phone line again. “Owen Ellis, have you lost your mind? Finn was picked up ages ago. Why are you making up these sickening lies?” I looked down at the child in my arms. His chest had been crudely cut open. Blood had soaked my dress shirt, sticking the fabric to my skin. I opened my mouth, the sound that scraped out of my throat barely human. “Lila Ellis! He is your own flesh and blood! How could you abandon him to die!” “Abandon him?” She gave a cold, short laugh. “How dare you accuse me? If it hadn’t been for this child, I would never have married a poor academic like you!” “Haven’t I sacrificed enough for him over the years? Don’t you dare put on this ‘devoted father’ act now!” “Stop using these disgusting tactics to gain sympathy. Rhys was right; you only know how to weaponize the child against me.” Then, Rhys’s voice, soft and coaxing, drifted over the line. “Lila, please calm down. It’s my fault. If I hadn’t pushed so hard for the grade, Professor Ellis wouldn’t have…” He paused, his tone shifting into a perfect, wounded whisper. “…But even in an argument, Professor Ellis, you shouldn’t joke about Finn’s life.” I was shaking violently, my grip threatening to shatter the phone. “Rhys! It was you—” BEEP— The line went dead. I stood there, Finn in my arms, as the clinic’s enforcers slowly encircled me, their eyes indifferent. I fell to my knees, my forehead striking the filthy ground again and again. “Please… let me take him home…” Blood ran from my brow, mixing with my tears as it hit the dirt. One of the men frowned, muttered a curse about bad luck, and waved a dismissive hand. “Get lost.” I scrambled up, stumbling, clutching Finn, and ran. The night air was a biting knife. The street was empty, no cars slowing down, no one willing to stop. I ran desperately, Finn’s blood marking the pavement, a sickening, winding red line behind me. The hospital lights were stark and blinding. The doctor peeled back the coat I’d wrapped around Finn and sucked in a sharp breath. “What… who did this?” I tried to smile, but it looked worse than a scream. I didn’t know how to tell him that this had been the boy’s own mother. But Lila hadn’t always been this way. Finn’s first heart surgery. She hadn’t slept for three days, standing vigil outside the ICU. The day he first called her ‘Mom,’ she’d scooped him up, spinning him around, laughing like a child herself. Then Rhys. The trips, the high-profile dinners, the subtle change in her scent—and then, the insolence of bringing him home. I could only watch in silence as my wife slowly, irreversibly, became a stranger. The doctor examined him for a long, silent moment. He lowered his voice. “…The child is gone. You need to call the coroner.” I gripped Finn’s small hand, his fingers already turning blue. “Try again… please, I’m begging you…” The doctor shook his head, sighing. “The damage is too severe. Even half an hour earlier…” I knelt at the double doors of the Emergency Room, my forehead pressed against the cold tile. “Please, try something else. He’s only six.” The doctor removed his mask, his face etched with exhaustion. “Mr. Ellis, his liver and right kidney have been removed. Unless we can get him onto an ECMO machine right now to stabilize him, and find matching organs within the week…” “Then put him on ECMO!” I lunged towards the ICU, only to be stopped by two men in dark suits. One of them spoke, his face impassive. “Ms. Ellis’s orders. All ECMO equipment is prioritized for Mr. Rhys.” The blood in my veins turned to ice. The VIP room door opened. Rhys strolled out, looking impossibly rested, adjusting the silk belt of his robe, his face flushed like he’d just had a high-end spa treatment. He leaned against the doorframe, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “Professor Ellis, looking rough.” “The machine…” The taste of blood filled my throat. “Give Finn the ECMO. I’ll vanish. Forever.” “Professor Ellis,” Rhys purred, casually turning my faculty ID card between his fingers. “Every time I see your face, I get anxiety.” He let the metal chain tighten around my neck, then leaned in close. “How about you resign?” I stared at the gleaming plaque on the hallway wall: The Distinguished Ellis Research Prize. I remembered the three thousand nights I’d spent in the lab, the new target I’d identified under the microscope, the first time Finn had proudly declared, “My dad is a scientist.” My nails dug into the flesh of my palm. The metallic taste of blood rose in my mouth. “Done.” The word crushed twenty years of my academic career, but I saw the serpentine glint of triumph in his eye. The ding of the resignation confirmation was the soundtrack to the kick that landed squarely in my ribs. I crashed to the floor. Rhys’s knee pressed into my throat, his phone screen shoved against my face. “Look. Your students are all wondering why you suddenly quit.” BANG! Rhys kicked me hard in the chest. I slammed against the wall. He grabbed my hair, yanking my head up, the camera lens practically touching my eye. “Come on, smile! Let the academic world see what a top-tier journal author looks like now!” “Doctor…” I managed to gasp, gripping his sleeve. The expensive fabric was stained with Finn’s blood. He suddenly burst into laughter. “Professor, you’re the smart one, right?” His finger tapped my cheek mockingly. “Lila is pregnant with my baby, so your son, of course, had to be—” He leaned down, whispering a revolting breath into my ear. “—dismantled and sold for parts.” A surge of blind rage gave me the strength to flip him onto the floor, and I slammed my fist into his face. The security guards’ fists rained down on my back, but I held onto Rhys’s throat until the familiar scent of Lila’s perfume and a sharp slap hit me. “Owen Ellis!” Her diamond ring scraped a raw line across my cheek. Rhys instantly crumpled into her embrace, sobbing. “He suddenly went crazy…” Through the ringing in my ears, I watched her rose-colored lips move. “Touch Rhys again, and I pull every single investment from your research projects.” Her hair brushed my wound as she turned. “Finn was at the International Academy this morning. Who are you putting on this disgusting show for?” She left, taking the guards and Rhys with her, leaving me dumped like refuse in the hallway. I crawled, staggering to the Emergency Room doors. My fingers brushed the handle just as I heard the nurse’s sigh. “Pediatric Cardiac, Room 307… Call it. Time of death.” The world turned black, and I passed out. The phone ringing was a dull knife sinking into my temple. The screen lit up in the oppressive darkness. My father’s voice was a blunt blade against my eardrum. “What did you do to upset Lila? The Ellis-Qin project just pulled funding from us!” I stared at the glowing stars Finn had pasted on the ceiling. “Finn is dead.” My voice sounded like it came from a great distance. A sudden, terrible silence fell on the line, broken only by static. “Poor boy… never had a chance,” my father sighed, but then his tone immediately hardened. “You need to get Lila pregnant again. Now. And you upset her young man, didn’t you? Go apologize! A man has to be flexible…” My hand, clutching Finn’s death certificate, began to shake. The paper made a frail, tearing sound. I couldn’t listen anymore. I threw the phone. The plastic shell exploded against the wall, the brittle sound startling a flock of pigeons outside the window. When the crematorium attendant wheeled the steel cot in, I desperately clung to Finn’s small, blue hand. This child who once held my finger and said, “Don’t be scared, Dad,” now felt like an empty shell. “Sir, we can’t delay.” The man spoke softly. Looking at my son’s tiny body, I finally made a decision. Trembling, I dialed the number I hadn’t called in three years. “I can give you Ellis-Qin’s core experimental data for the next quarter. You have to do something for me.” After arranging Finn’s body for its final journey, I dragged my exhausted self home. The moment I opened the front door, I heard the sickening sounds drifting down from the second-floor master suite. I stood in the entryway, staring at the family portrait Finn had drawn last year on the shoe cabinet. The three of us stood holding hands, and he’d used a gold crayon to make Lila’s dress shine brightly. I pushed all the living room furniture aside and draped the space with the whitest linen I could find. Finn’s favorite picture, the one of him in his dinosaur pajamas, was placed in the center, surrounded by his beloved strawberry cake and Lego sets. “Owen Ellis!” Lila rushed down the stairs in her silk robe, her face still flushed. “Are you insane? Setting up a wake in the living room?! Are you trying to curse me into a miscarriage?” She backed away, clutching her abdomen. Rhys sauntered down, covering his mouth in exaggerated horror when he saw the shrine. “Oh my God, this is just so morbid…” Lila’s furious shout was a sharp knife in my ear. “Owen, who is this pathetic performance for?” Her nails, painted a virulent red, were inches from my face. “Don’t think for a second that these disgusting tactics will—” A hot, metallic taste surged into my throat. I coughed violently, splattering dark red blood onto her silk robe. Rhys shrieked instantly. “Lila, look! He must have used a blood packet!” Lila froze for a second, then seized Finn’s photograph and hurled it at the marble floor. The sound of shattering glass filled the air. I lunged to save it, but she shoved me, sending me tumbling onto the shards. Sharp glass pierced my palm. I trembled as I wiped the blood from Finn’s smiling face. His image blurred in the crimson smear, just like the final moment he called for me, lying in the gore. Seeing the raw violence of my reaction, Lila involuntarily took two steps back. “Disgusting!” She kicked aside a white chrysanthemum, her face turning green, and spun away. I sat there all night, holding my son’s broken portrait in the cold, silent living room. Before dawn, the funeral home called. “Mr. Ellis, your son’s body… it’s gone.” “Gone? What do you mean, gone!” I shot up from the sofa. “He was there when you signed the papers last night… The security footage! Check the footage!” My phone vibrated. A message from Rhys: Want to see your son one last time? It was followed by a remote geo-tag. I bolted, not even grabbing a jacket. I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles were white. The scenery outside the window grew increasingly desolate until my tires crunched onto gravel and stopped in a barren, sandy clearing. Lila stood there in a couture trench coat, her heels sinking into the sand. She was holding a canister of gasoline and pouring it onto a black body bag lying on the ground. The fluid soaked sickeningly into the fabric. Rhys stood beside her, clapping and smiling. “Lila, stomp it a few times. Make sure it burns clean.” “STOP—!” My voice tore through the morning quiet. Lila spun around, the gas canister clattering to the sand. She frowned. “How did you find this place?” Rhys stepped in front of me, sighing dramatically. “Professor Ellis, it’s just the stand-in corpse you arranged. No need to get hysterical.” “Lila Ellis! That is your flesh and blood! You will be damned for this!” A flicker of uncertainty crossed Lila’s face, but it was quickly replaced by cold indifference. “What fresh delusion is this?” Rhys suddenly stepped aside. I stumbled forward, throwing myself onto the burning corpse, beating the flames with my bare hands. The stench of burning skin and oil was a physical blow to my lungs. My palms screamed in agony, but I didn’t care. “Don’t bother.” Rhys crouched down, his voice low and close to my ear. “Guess who gave us the body?” He gestured to the shadows. “Your good father. He delivered it to me at the funeral home himself.” I turned stiffly. My father emerged from behind the scrub brush, a look of ingratiating eagerness on his face. “Owen, why are you being so difficult? Mr. Rhys accepting this ‘gift’ is a huge favor to the Ellis family!” The world went silent. The crackle of the fire, Lila’s sharp voice, Rhys’s snicker—it all vanished. I only heard the rushing, roaring sound of blood in my ears. My father, seeing my silence, rushed forward and slapped me hard across the cheek. “Are you dumb? Say thank you to Mr. Rhys!” My cheek stung, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the desolation in my chest. Lila looked at my rapidly swelling face, frowned, and stopped him. “That’s enough. The project will include your family.” My father’s face broke into a delighted, fawning smile. He bobbed his head, looking like a desperate dog begging for a treat. I looked down at the charred, unrecognizable small body in my arms, and I started to laugh. The laughter grew, becoming a raw, strangled scream. Lila stepped back, startled. “You—” I cut her off, scooping up Finn’s remains, and ran for the cliff edge. “Owen Ellis!” She pursued me, grabbing a corner of the body bag at the precipice. As the cloth tore, Finn’s small arm, with the birthmark on his wrist, slipped out and landed directly in her hand. Lila’s eyes widened in a silent scream. Her lips trembled, but no sound came out. I leaned back, letting gravity take me. Just before the abyss swallowed me, I saw it—a tear. A single, desperate tear falling from Lila’s eye.

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It was my birthday when the post popped up in my feed. What does it truly mean to be loved and elevated? Someone in the comments offered a reply. I can answer that. My admirer got close to me by becoming my best friend’s boyfriend. When we were in school, I needed money for a designer bag. As the class president, he secretly pulled my best friend’s scholarship application and replaced it with mine. I got it, and that silly girl thought there was something wrong with her own application. Later, when my best friend’s acceptance for graduate school was posted, I whispered one word of dissatisfaction. He reported her directly, and she ended up having to test two more times to get in. The blatant pride in her words, the smugness of being the favored one, instantly drew a tidal wave of outrage. The post blew up. Instead of feeling shame, she doubled down, arrogantly showing off a picture of a pave-set diamond ring. You can glare all you want. It won’t matter. Today is my best friend’s birthday. He gave me this diamond ring, and she got my hand-me-down. In fact, all I have to do is say the word, and he’ll even postpone her birthday celebration. My phone vibrated violently. A text from my boyfriend, Liam Cole. Babe, a work emergency came up last minute. I’m cashing in a Late Pass. Your present is on the bedside table. Hope you love it. I opened the box. Inside, resting on the velvet cushion, was a plain silver band. A simple, elegant circle. On an impulse I couldn’t explain, I took a picture and ran a reverse image search. The first result was a jewelry registry page. Promotional Gift: Plain Silver Band. The search also pulled up a listing for the identical diamond ring from the social media post. Scholarship. Grad school. Birthday. Diamond. Silver Band. It hit me with a sickening, dizzying clarity. I was the “stupid friend,” the “great fool” in that post. 1 I’m excessive? How am I excessive? If it weren’t for our deep friendship, I would have made her boyfriend dump her ages ago. I haven’t broken them up to this day. Isn’t that saintly enough? Facing the accusations of thousands of anonymous users, the poster—Sienna Wells—was still declaring the love of her “simp” with utter audacity. Netizens were disgusted by her brazen shamelessness. They pleaded with the algorithm to push the post to the victim. But they didn’t know. The victim had been here, scrolling and reading, from the very beginning. I wanted to believe it was the universe intervening, perhaps, that fate couldn’t stand to watch me be deceived for the rest of my life. That on the eve of our ninth year together, just before we were set to file our marriage license, the truth had been shoved into my face. Ugh, I’m done talking to you losers. Gotta run. Taking my boy out for a candlelight dinner. Sorry, bestie. Your man is booked for the night. Tee hee. Meeting the next round of angry comments, Sienna rubbed it in further, posting a photo of a restaurant interior. I recognized the sleek, high-end decor of a Michelin-starred spot. I saved the image and searched. The restaurant name, The Monarch Room, quickly appeared on my screen. And next to it, the average price: Five figures per person. They say that when you truly love someone, you give them the very best of yourself. In my nine years with Liam, our most frequent date night was the local hole-in-the-wall Thai place. Our most expensive meal was the $45-per-person brunch at the Sunny Diner downtown. And tonight, on my twenty-eighth birthday, he was buying Sienna a diamond ring and taking her to a five-figure restaurant, all while telling me he had to work late. The old adage was undeniably true: The money goes where the love is. 2 Liam came home just as I was drying my hair. He was holding a tiny box of a cake with a single candle, presenting it to me like a treasured relic. “Babe, it’s not midnight yet. Come on, make a wish.” I recognized the pathetic, palm-sized thing. It was from the bakery across the street—eighteen dollars, reduced to twelve on the end-of-day markdown. The little strawberry on top was already starting to wilt. I blew a quick breath, and the candle went out. Liam’s eyes crinkled with relief. He scooped up a bite of the frosting and held it to my mouth. I turned my head away. “I already brushed my teeth, Liam. I’m not hungry.” His hand froze. He stared at me for a long moment, then placed the cake carefully on the dresser. “It’s my bad about missing your actual birthday. But the project is crunch time, I couldn’t step away. That’s why I used the Late Pass.” Work was Liam’s most reliable excuse; I’d always believed him. But this time, I didn’t brush it off or wave it away. I looked directly at him. “You’re out of Late Passes, Liam.” He blinked. “What?” My tone was completely level. “The fourth of this month, the movie night? You said the client called, so you used one. The tenth, the dinner at your parents’? We waited an hour and a half for you, so you used one. The fifteenth, the gallery opening? You claimed your car broke down, so you used the last one.” “You burned through your passes in the first half of the month.” Liam was busy, and I was busy. To maintain our relationship, we’d agreed to four dates a month. But he was perpetually late. So, we instituted the “Late Pass” system. Three per month, and if he exceeded them, he owed the person he stood up a favor. He was always the first to run out. My sudden cold recollection of every specific date made Liam fall silent. After a beat, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder, trying to be casual. “The more overtime I put in now, the more time I can tack on to our honeymoon. We can make up all the time then.” “You love Hawaii, right? Let’s do the big trip there.” Hearing his supposedly thoughtful words, I felt Liam deserved an Oscar for acting. Even while lying, he was composed, his voice warm as a summer breeze. I remembered the year after graduation, renting an apartment to work on my design exhibition. A male neighbor, seeing me alone, harassed me late one night. While waiting for the police, I was trapped behind the door, listening to an adult man’s desperate threats. The first person I’d called was Liam. He had used that exact gentle, soothing voice to calm my terror. But now, I remembered something else with unsettling clarity. I had been hysterical, pouring out my fear. Liam had only uttered a few meaningless filler sounds. It was the same practiced distraction he was using now. And then I realized: He forgot that I hated places with too much sun due to my UV sensitivity, that I was always dreaming of snow and mountains. The person who loved Hawaii, who owned a closet full of brightly colored bikinis, was Sienna. Looking back, the signs had always been there. I’d just been too blind to see them. Sienna casually mentioned how beautiful Hawaii was, and he remembered it forever. I constantly talked about the Oakhaven Crest ski lodge, and he completely forgot. The conclusion—he doesn’t love me—was now stamped indelibly on my heart. I turned off the hairdryer. The last wisp of warm air seemed to blow away the final shred of my lingering affection for him. I stood and walked toward the guest room. Liam followed. As he closed the space between us, I caught the sickeningly sweet scent of his cologne and another, unfamiliar scent—a cloying, sugary perfume. I coughed, turning my head, and pushed him gently back from the door. “I think I’m coming down with something. Let’s sleep in separate rooms for a bit.” Liam started to protest, but I didn’t give him a chance. I decisively nudged him out and shut the door with a sharp click.

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I am known in Hollywood for my hourglass figure and seductive roles. A bombshell, they call me. Yet, for five years in this industry, no one dared to touch me with “unspoken rules.” Because behind me stood the Prince of New York, Christian Vance. We were together for seven years. I thought we would get married. Who knew that on my 28th birthday, I would hear him laughing with his friends: “Playing with Sophia is fine, but for marriage? I have someone else in mind.” So I took back my heart. As he wished, I stayed only for the money, not the man. But Christian wasn’t used to it. He stared at me intently: “Besides the villa, you don’t want anything else?” I feigned surprise: “You mean I can ask for a Rolls-Royce too?” 1 Christian got out of bed with a dark face, dressing with his back to me. The scratch marks I left were still visible on his skin. From dressing to leaving, he didn’t say a single word. I watched his retreating figure in confusion, unsure why he was suddenly so angry. Did he think I was too greedy? Fine. Contentment is key to happiness. I hesitated for a few minutes between calling to apologize or leaving him alone, and chose to put down my phone. A sensible mistress shouldn’t interfere too much in her patron’s private life. It’s annoying. I walked barefoot into the living room. Several Hermès bags sat on the sofa. Christian brought them back from a business trip to Paris. Exclusive editions, not available here. I picked the one I liked best. For the others, I took photos and sent them to my contact, [Luxury Resale Kelly], with a note: [Brand new with receipt.] She quoted a price quickly. My eyes lit up. Not enough for a Rolls-Royce Phantom, but a base model Ghost would be no problem. I had no hobby of collecting designer bags. To me, they were no different from a $20 bag from Amazon, unless I needed one to keep up appearances at a specific event. But Christian loved to give them. Every year’s new collection was delivered to me. This year, everything he gave me was converted into cash, sitting in my bank account earning interest. Better than collecting dust. I put the bag away and went to sleep beautifully. I slept soundly all night, not caring where Christian went. 2 Early the next morning, I got a call from my best friend, Chloe. Chloe swallowed hard and asked carefully, “Did you break up with Christian?” I wasn’t fully awake yet. “No, why do you ask?” “Check the trending topics.” I opened Twitter with sleepy eyes. The number one trending topic was: Christian Vance and Isabella Astor, daughter of the Chairman of Sotheby’s Asia-Pacific, are rumored to be tying the knot. The photo was incredibly artistic. In the Vance estate gardens, they stood by the lake. Isabella wore Christian’s grey suit jacket over her shoulders, tilting her head and smiling at him. Only half of Christian’s face was visible, his mesmerizing eyes lowered. Though unclear, outsiders could imagine the deep affection in his gaze. I sighed. The photographer was a genius. 【Prince of NY vs. Auction House Heiress. This is what a power couple looks like!】 【Cinderella stories only exist in novels. Real life is about matching status.】 【Didn’t rumors say Bombshell Sophia was backed by the Prince? So who’s the side chick?】 【Obviously Sophia. No acting skills, no family background. Just a face and body. How could she enter the Vance family?】 【Don’t call her Bombshell Sophia anymore. Call her Mistress Sophia.】 I scrolled through the comments, dazed. Chloe kept calling my name: “Sophia, Sophia!” I finally snapped back. “Mm.” She lowered her voice, asking carefully, “Sophia, are you… sad?” I smiled. “Sad? Why should I be sad?” What right do I have to be sad? 3 Junior year, I was an exchange student in New York. At a party for international students, I met Christian. Even among international students, there’s a hierarchy. He was at the very top, the center of attention. The party was even at his penthouse. I was the unlucky one pushed into the pool by a rejected, angry suitor. My bikini top was ripped off in the struggle. I curled up in the corner of the pool, enduring the gaze of the crowd. Angry, humiliated, wishing I could drown. They whispered about whether I did it on purpose—a commoner trying to use her body to climb the social ladder. Christian descended like a god, draping a bathrobe over me. He bent down and said, “Go to the bathroom and clean up.” Looking at his face, my heart suddenly raced. I could hear the thunderous beating of my heart. I wondered if he could too. I wrapped the robe tight. “Thank you.” I rushed to the bathroom and changed. When I came out, I saw the guy who pushed me laughing in the crowd. I charged over, grabbed his hair, and dunked his head into the pool water. I held him there until his cursing turned to begging, then to crying and pleading for mercy. Finally, I yanked off his swim trunks and threw them away. When I let go, he didn’t dare look at me, scrambling to find his trunks. I raised my chin proudly like a victor. Turning around, I met Christian’s amused gaze. My mind went blank. Oh no, would he think I was too aggressive? Later, Christian said he loved the way I proudly dunked that guy’s head, like a strutting peacock. Between us, he started it. He pursued me passionately, confessed, and declared my status to the world. Even after I entered Hollywood, he cleared obstacles for me, becoming the ladder I climbed step by step. But, he was also the one who personally cut off my delusions. 4 Six months ago, on my 28th birthday, he organized a celebration, promising the grandest party ever. This year was our seventh year together. I thought he might propose, so I couldn’t resist sneaking a peek beforehand. Instead, I overheard him chatting with a few friends. “Chris, you put so much effort into Sophia. Planning to propose?” Christian, in a bespoke white suit looking like a prince, spoke words that instantly froze my heart: “Sophia is beautiful. But playing with her is fine. For marriage? I have someone else in mind.” “Is it Miss Astor?” He scoffed. “You think you know everything?” “So you’ll break up with Sophia after getting married?” “Yeah. Loyalty in marriage is basic respect for a partner.” His friend gasped. “Sophia will cry herself to death. She loves you so much.” “Love? It’s just a transaction of needs.” The friend’s eyes lit up. “Say what you will, Sophia is gorgeous. The most beautiful in Hollywood. When you break up, can I keep her?” Christian shot him a cold look. They might have said more, but I couldn’t listen anymore. He said our seven years were just a transaction. I stepped back, found a secluded spot, and cried for half an hour until my makeup was ruined. Finally, I redid my makeup, changed into a gown, and attended the party he threw for me as if nothing happened. Fireworks bloomed for thirty minutes, but I only saw four words: Transaction of Needs. Since then, I reminded myself repeatedly: Do not invest feelings anymore. I thought I couldn’t do it. But I discovered human potential is infinite. I gradually withdrew from the emotion, becoming someone who only wanted money, not the man. 4 (Continued) Since that’s the case, I won’t be a hypocrite. I smiled at Chloe on the phone. “Christian and I aren’t what you think. You don’t need to worry about me.” When I refreshed the page, the trending topic and photos had disappeared. I knew the Vance family had intervened. However, if it wasn’t true, who would dare gossip about Christian’s marriage? This meant his “good news” was indeed approaching. No wonder he left so fast last night. He was getting married and wanted to save money for his wife, so he didn’t want to give me this villa. I sighed, walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, and took in the magnificent view, reluctantly saying goodbye to this luxury villa worth nine figures. For the next few days, Christian didn’t contact me or come back. I knew he was waiting for me to leave voluntarily. During these days, I sold the remaining designer bags. In the end, I only took one suitcase, packing my few belongings. Dragging the suitcase downstairs, the housekeeper, Mrs. Zhang, asked, “Miss, going to film again?” I smiled and nodded. “Yes. Goodbye, Mrs. Zhang.” This life of luxury was over. I had bought my own place years ago. Though not as grand as the Vance Villa, it was spacious and clean. I had no work, sleeping at home until I didn’t know if the sun was up or down, calling it “healing from heartbreak.” Chloe, worried I might do something stupid, visited often. Seeing me eating and drinking well, she got ideas and dragged me to a very private bar. In the car, she winked at me. “The quality is excellent.”

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He was a prominent figure in the New York elite, famously child-free. But I was pregnant. And everyone knew Adrian Sterling hated being trapped by women. When a famous actress announced her pregnancy, he immediately flew to Europe to be by her side. It turned out he wasn’t against children; he just wanted them with the woman he actually loved. I asked for a breakup and went back to my hometown to schedule an abortion. Later, he handcuffed me to the headboard and bit down hard on my shoulder. “Don’t shake. Crying won’t make me stop.” His voice was dark, dangerous. “You killed our baby. Now you owe me another one.” 1 The room was dim, lit only by a single bedside lamp. The tassels on the lampshade swayed violently. Adrian was unusually aggressive today. It was past midnight, and he still wouldn’t let me go. Just as I was drifting off, he bit my neck. “Elara, look at me. We’re not done.” “Can’t we continue tomorrow? I’m so tired,” I pleaded, my voice soft and raspy. He gripped my chin, his eyes hiding a storm of displeasure. “Who was that guy who slipped you a note today?” “…” So that was it. Adrian was usually buried in work, but today he had surprisingly shown up at campus to pick me up. I had been at a coffee shop grabbing a pastry. The barista was a junior from my department; he recognized me. When I paid, he slipped a folded note into my hand. I turned around and saw the flashy blue McLaren parked by the curb. The window was down, and Adrian was staring at me with a ghostly calmness. He hadn’t exploded then. He held it in all evening. And now he was settling the score? Adrian’s fingers tightened; my jaw ached. “Speak.” Meeting his deep, abyss-like eyes, I softened my tone. “I don’t know him. He’s just a student. I threw the note away immediately.” “You’d better have.” He lowered his head and kissed me, deep and heavy. As my mind went hazy, he panted against my ear, his warning sharp. “I’m flying out for business tomorrow. Be good while I’m gone. If I find out you’ve done something you shouldn’t… you know the consequences.” His tone was icy, his movements predatory like a wolf. I nodded obediently. I wasn’t naive enough to think Adrian was jealous. He just liked his possessions clean. If I dared to get close to another man, he would discard me without a second thought. 2 Adrian had been gone for a month. Finally, I had time to do what I wanted. But lately, maybe due to bad food, I felt constantly nauseous. The doctor listened to my symptoms and handed me a pregnancy test. I froze. Thirty minutes later. I walked out of the clinic, staring blankly at the result in my hand. Everyone in the Manhattan elite knew Adrian Sterling was strictly “child-free.” He despised the idea of marriage. Every time we were together, he took every precaution. But still… accidents happen. The doctor said no method is 100% effective. I touched my flat stomach, a rising tide of panic drowning me. Adrian hated calculating women. Once, at a gala, an aspiring singer tried to sneak into his suite, hoping to trap him with a baby. He literally threw the girl out into the hallway, wrapped only in a towel. She was never heard from in the industry again. I bit my lip, my hand trembling as I held the paper. It was over. If Adrian thought I tampered with the protection… I might be the next one to disappear from New York. 3 I couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning. Late at night, just as I was about to text Adrian to test the waters, a notification popped up. Trending news. Adrian Sterling had been spotted leaving a private clinic in Switzerland with the hottest young actress, Serena. They were standing at the entrance of the OB-GYN department. Even though she was bundled up, you could still see her stunning figure. She was the innocent, angelic type. Exactly Adrian’s type. The tabloids were buzzing that Serena was pregnant, and the baby was likely Adrian’s. After all, they had been photographed at a hotel together before. Suddenly, rumors of a new mistress of the Sterling empire were everywhere. I stared at the photos in silence. I immediately deleted the draft I had typed out to him. Adrian really treated Serena differently. Last time I accompanied him to a banquet, a drunk heir made a crude joke about Serena, saying she had no talent and must have slept her way to the top. Adrian immediately threw his drink in the guy’s face. He grabbed him by the collar, ready to beat him to a pulp. The Sterlings were strict about public image; he rarely lost his temper like that. If I hadn’t pulled him back, he probably would have broken the guy’s legs. Maybe Adrian wasn’t strictly child-free after all. He just wanted a baby with the woman he loved. … I rubbed my belly, forcing down the bitterness in my heart. Anyway, I was only with Adrian for the money. My mother was sick. Adrian happened to pursue me right when I was desperate. He was generous, helping me secure rare experimental drugs for her. I had no reason to refuse. Compared to a life, what was pride? Who Adrian loved, or who he wanted to be with, was his business. As long as the check cleared. 4 The next day. Adrian sent me his flight info. As the obedient girlfriend, I went to JFK to pick him up. It was late autumn. I wore the little dress he liked best with a trench coat over it. I waited in the cold wind for two hours. First, it was a delay. Then, night fell. Finally, I got a text. [Sorry, business isn’t wrapped up. Extending the trip.] My frozen fingers typed out a reply. [Okay, get some rest. Miss you~] Adrian liked it when I played the soft, clingy girl. Soon, my bank account received a transfer. Five hundred thousand dollars. I paused. Even for holidays, he never gave this much at once. [Me: Mistake?] [Him: Didn’t you say you wanted a graduation trip? Go have fun.] [Me: So generous. Should I fly to London to see you?] I was joking. He shut it down instantly. [Him: Go wherever you want. Just don’t come to me.] [Me: When are you coming back?] He didn’t reply. Late that night. The paparazzi released photos of Serena entering Adrian’s private villa in the Alps. I stared at their intimate body language. It took a long time to sink in. That money was a severance package. Rich guys like Adrian always did this. A lump sum for a clean break. The smart girls took the money and didn’t make a scene.

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