Category: English

1 Ten years together, and for the third time, my lawyer girlfriend Aria canceled our city hall appointment for a “critical case.” Minutes later, I saw her childhood friend Leo post a photo of their marriage certificate, captioned: “After all this time, it was always you.” As confused messages poured in, I replied publicly: “Don’t forget to invite me to the baby shower. I’ll chip in five grand.” Instantly, his post disappeared. Aria called, furious: “Leo posted that by mistake. He’s never been married before—I was just helping him as his lawyer. It’s just a piece of paper, Alex. You’re blowing this up for no reason.” She demanded I apologize, promising we’d get our license once Leo “healed from his divorce.” She didn’t realize this was her 67th empty promise to me—and the last. I hung up, resigned from my job, and decided to disappear from the life we were supposed to build. … She called back. A dozen times. I ignored every one. Finally, a text message buzzed through, dripping with fury: “Alex, have you lost your mind? How dare you hang up on me? You’re the one who screwed up, and you’re acting like you have the moral high ground?” “You have five minutes to post that apology, or we’re through.” Ten years together. I’d heard that threat a hundred times. And every time, I was the one to cave, to smooth things over, to beg for forgiveness. This was the first time I’d ever just hung up. When I didn’t respond, she went to her social media and started her usual countdown. It was a rule she’d made years ago: three days of silence meant we were officially over. My devotion had made her fearless. Every argument, every disagreement, ended with her posting that countdown, a public clock ticking down on my anxiety, pressuring me to fold. For ten years, it had been her perfect weapon. And every time, just before the clock ran out, I’d break. But not this time. I was exhausted. I was done being her fool. Shortly after her countdown post went up, Leo posted something too, tagging me specifically. “Just a little prank with Aria that accidentally went public. I didn’t realize Alex would take it so hard. I guess I’ll have to be more careful what I say around him from now on. Wouldn’t want him to get upset again.” Aria, who rarely ever glanced at her feed, was the first to like it. She even commented: “That’s his problem, Leo, don’t you dare blame yourself. And why should it be private? If you want to post something, you post it.” “His problem” was me, obviously. Our so-called friends, the ones who relied on Aria for legal work, all chimed in with likes and supportive comments. “Wow, Alex is being so petty. Leo, don’t let a guy like that get you down.” “No wonder Aria won’t marry him. I’d hesitate too if he were that insecure.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. She would bend over backward to protect Leo from the slightest discomfort, to defend his name. But for me, her boyfriend of a decade, there was only neglect and indifference. Leo could sneeze, and she would drop everything, including our plans to get married. If I dared to complain, she’d explode, accusing me of disrespecting her freedom, of being small-minded. And now, when I finally chose to let go and congratulate them, she was the one hurling accusations, using her countdown to force me into an apology. The truth was, it was never about right or wrong. The scales of her love had tipped long ago. “Sir,” the clerk said, her voice soft with pity, “the woman whose ID you’ve provided is already legally married. Would you… like to submit a different application?” I took the ID from her and managed a weak smile. “Maybe I should.” The young couple behind me cheered quietly at my withdrawal. Of course, it was the most popular wedding date of the year, and getting an appointment at City Hall was nearly impossible. I had shown up at dawn just to get a spot in line. Now, I looked at the application form in my hands—the 67th one I’d filled out, for the 67th chance I’d given her—and without a second thought, I ripped it to shreds and dropped it in the trash. Every time, it was the same. I’d arrive early, filled with hope, watching the happy couples go in and out, waiting for her. And every time, just minutes before our appointment, she would call. An emergency at the firm. When I’d question it, she’d use her clients as a shield. “Alex, my clients’ lives are on the line! Are you seriously asking me to abandon them for a piece of paper? How can you be so selfish?” She always said it with such righteous indignation, as if I were the villain. What she didn’t know was that every time she ditched me for Leo, he’d send me a little text, a little jab to twist the knife. “Aria’s cooking is amazing. Bet you’ve never had it, have you?” “I mentioned I was tired of walking today, so Aria just bought me a brand new luxury car. You’re still taking the subway, right?” And now, she’d gone and gotten a marriage license with him. It was time for our relationship to finally end. 2 As I stepped out of City Hall, I saw the notification on my phone. My resignation request had been rejected. HR informed me that Aria hadn’t been in the office for days and couldn’t approve it. They gave me an address and told me to find her myself. Gritting my teeth, I went. I just wanted this to be over. The address was a high-end pool hall. A place Leo loved. Aria, the woman who lived and breathed for her work, had apparently been skipping the office for days to hang out with him. I found them at a table in the back. Leo was leaning over her, his body pressed against hers, “teaching” her how to shoot. The moment he saw me, a smirk played on his lips. A few of our colleagues from the firm, Leo’s little sycophants, sauntered over, nudging each other. “Well, well, look who’s here for our dear Ms. Aria.” “Told you. That three-day countdown wouldn’t even last one. He’s already back to groveling.” “Damn, Aria’s got him wrapped around her finger. One word and he comes running.” “Alright, alright, pay up. You all lost the bet.” I felt a familiar tightening in my jaw. I’d heard their jeers a thousand times before. But today, it grated on me like never before. “I’m not here to make up.” My words were met with a burst of laughter. “Sure, Alex. We all know you’re Aria’s ultimate lapdog. You couldn’t leave if you tried.” Ignoring them, I walked straight to her and held out the papers. “Aria. Sign these.” She reached for the file, but Leo nudged her knee with his own. “Focus on the game,” he murmured. Instantly, she dropped the file. She reached into Leo’s pocket, pulled out her personal seal—a custom stamp she used for official documents—and tossed it to me. “Just stamp it yourself. And in the future, don’t come here and interrupt my lessons with Leo.” Aria was fiercely private. Her safe was off-limits. She’d shield her phone’s PIN from my view. And her personal seal? She guarded it like a state secret. Yet here she was, letting Leo carry it in his pocket. She was so wrapped up in her “date” that she couldn’t even be bothered to look at a company document. I clutched the stamped resignation form, my knuckles white. My heart felt like a cavern, hollow and cold. I turned to leave, but her voice stopped me. “Leo’s a bit busy these days. You can handle his caseload for him.” She tossed a thick stack of files onto a nearby table. Each one had nothing but a title scrawled on the cover. I couldn’t even count how many times she’d made me do Leo’s work. Every time I completed a case, he took the credit. But if I made a single mistake under the crushing workload, the blame was all mine. There were times I’d lost my temper, refused to do it. She’d accuse me of letting her down, of not caring about her or the firm. She’d threaten to do it all herself, and my concern for her, my desire to ease her burden, always led me back to compromise. All that sacrifice had earned me was her contempt, her casual dismissal, her entitlement to my labor. But I was free now. The firm was no longer my problem. “No. I’ve already resi—” “Aria,” Leo’s voice cut in, thick with feigned hurt. “It’s okay. If Alex doesn’t want to do it, I can manage.” Aria’s expression immediately softened with pity for him. “You just went through a divorce. How can you be expected to work when you’re feeling down? Don’t be silly. Go have fun.” She turned back to me, her voice turning to ice. “Don’t you get it? Your little stunt on social media already upset Leo. This is your chance to make up for it, and you’re refusing? Keep this up, and in three days, you could be on your knees begging, and I still wouldn’t take you back.” I almost laughed. My mother had died unexpectedly. I was so wracked with grief I’d fainted multiple times. All Aria had said then was, “When you’re done crying, be at the office on time. There’s work to be done.” But Leo? His divorce was two years ago, and he was still using it as an excuse to skip work. “Fine by me. We don’t have to get back together.” I spun on my heel and walked away. The shock on Aria’s face was unmistakable. Our colleagues were stunned. “Is he… actually leaving?” Leo just chuckled. “Come on, Alex. No need to play hard to get. If you don’t want to do the work, just say so.” At his words, the tension in Aria’s face melted away, replaced by her usual confident smirk. Her tone softened. “Alright, Alex. I know I’ve been neglecting you lately. Be a good boy and finish Leo’s work, and in three days, I promise, we’ll go get our license. How does that sound?” The same empty promises. The same carrot dangled in front of my face. But this time, I had no appetite for it. I didn’t answer. I just kept walking. Behind me, the taunts started up again. “What a show. Just you wait. By tomorrow, he’ll be back, begging for another chance.” A wicked thought sparked in my mind. I wanted to see the looks on their faces when they lost their little bet for good. I let out a short, sharp laugh and glanced back at them over my shoulder. “Yeah? Don’t hold your breath.” 3 With my resignation finalized, I went straight to my best friend’s firm. In the legal world, a lawyer’s reputation follows them, not the firm they work for. As a top-tier litigator, my friend Mark was so thrilled to have me that he practically offered to shine my shoes. He gave me a salary ten times what Aria had paid me and threw in a villa as a signing bonus. Finally, I could move out of that dilapidated apartment. I’d lost track of how many clients had looked surprised when they found out where I lived. A “star lawyer” in a place like that. I always brushed it off, saying I was a simple guy who didn’t care about material things. The truth was, I’d willingly accepted a junior-level salary so Aria’s firm could grow. In the beginning, she was grateful. Over time, it became an expectation. One winter, the heating broke. When I asked Aria for some money to replace it, she called me extravagant, accused me of changing, of only being after her money. Yet for Leo, she’d buy a mansion on a whim. Even his dog’s house had central heating. On moving day, I ran into Aria and Leo. They were with her parents, the four of them enjoying a cozy family dinner at a fancy restaurant. I froze. A memory flashed in my mind: the first time I met her parents. I had arrived with armfuls of expensive gifts. They served me a table full of leftovers. I awkwardly suggested we all go out to eat, my treat. They scoffed, saying I didn’t earn much but had already picked up wasteful habits. In the end, I cooked a full meal for everyone. As soon as I set the food down, Aria’s mother slammed her chopsticks on the table, complaining my food was too salty. “Only peasants who do manual labor eat this salty,” she’d sneered. “I guess that makes sense, coming from a peasant’s son.” The gifts I brought them? I later saw the building’s janitor carrying them all home. Compared to this happy little family scene, I felt like a complete clown. Aria’s parents were fawning over Leo, piling food onto his plate. “Leo, you and our Aria are just perfect for each other,” her mother cooed. “If that other woman hadn’t tricked you back then, you two would never have missed your chance. I think the timing is perfect now. You two should just get together.” Her father chimed in, “Exactly! Leo landed several huge clients for Aria the moment he joined the firm. His future is limitless. Not like that useless Alex. All he’s good for is cooking and cleaning. Completely worthless.” Rage trembled through my body. I was the one who landed those clients. Aria had just credited them to Leo’s name. The money I brought in single-handedly kept that firm afloat. But Aria had never once praised me. Instead, she constantly belittled me, saying it was only because of the platform her firm gave me that I had any work at all. And now, faced with her parents’ slander, she said nothing to defend me. She just sighed. “Well, we’ve been together for so long. I guess I’ll just make do.” My heart plummeted into an icy abyss. All these years, to her, I was just someone to “make do” with. Her mother, however, was not satisfied. “Aria, let me tell you, that Alex is bad luck. Cursed. Just look at how his parents died so young. Marrying him will bring you nothing but misery.” Aria didn’t respond, but tears were already streaming down my face. My parents died because of hers. Years ago, Aria’s parents were in a car crash and needed massive blood transfusions. My parents were a match. They gave and gave, but it wasn’t enough. Aria was a wreck, sobbing uncontrollably. Knowing how much I loved her, my parents went back, behind my back, and gave more, pushing their bodies past the absolute limit. Aria’s parents were saved. Mine were gone. For a while, her family felt a sliver of guilt. They promised to make it up to me, to take care of me. That compensation never came. Instead, I became the “cursed” one they spoke of with disdain. I couldn’t stand to listen to another word. I turned to leave. 4 But Leo spotted me. “Well, look who it is. If it isn’t Alex.” The three of them turned to look. The moment she saw me, Aria instinctively pulled her hand away from Leo’s grasp. “Alex? What are you doing here?” Leo spoke, his tone deceptively casual. “Wow, Aria, he’s really dedicated. Everywhere you go, he just happens to show up. You don’t think he put a tracker on you, do you?” He then turned to me, a picture of innocence. “Oh, hey Alex, don’t get the wrong idea. Aria and I are just like family. Her parents are like my own. We get together like this all the time. If it bothers you, I can leave right now.” “Don’t you dare,” Aria snapped, grabbing his arm. She glared at me, her eyes spitting fire. “Alex, there’s a mountain of work at the office, and you’re here stalking me? Have you lost your mind?” “Are you ever going to stop being so paranoid? Get back to the firm right now. And on your way, stop by HR and accept your penalty. You’re forfeiting your pay for today and your bonus for the month.” Her parents jumped in to support her. “Aria, why do you even keep a parasite like him around? Just fire him. You’re too soft. How do you expect a star employee like Leo to feel valued when you tolerate this kind of behavior?” Leo, playing the part of the magnanimous hero, added, “It’s really no big deal. I don’t mind cleaning up Alex’s messes. But Alex, you’re not getting any younger. What will you do if you lose this job? Just apologize to Aria. Stop being so stubborn.” Her parents praised him for his kindness and maturity. Aria’s gaze on me grew colder, more disgusted. “What are you still standing there for? Get back to work. And let me tell you, if I don’t see you at your desk by the end of the day, then when the countdown ends tonight, don’t even bother trying to make up. We’ll be over for good.” With that, she and her “family” paid the bill and left. Later that evening, just before closing time, Aria made a point of swinging by the office. She saw my desk was empty. I really hadn’t come back. Furious, she stormed out and went straight to a bar, deliberately having a colleague “casually” leak her location to me. I saw the messages. I ignored them all. Eleven o’clock. The day was almost over. Aria had downed a stomachful of booze, but the agitation in her heart refused to settle. She kept glancing at the door to their private room, her body tensing every time it opened. Many people came and went. None of them were me. Her phone was silent, as if it were broken. She even had her assistant check it. When confirmed it was working perfectly, her mood sank to a new low. She was so used to me catering to her every whim. This sudden drop-off was a shock to her system. She looked at her phone’s lock screen—a photo of us. It was a candid shot she’d taken right after our first kiss. A faint smile touched her lips. In the end, she couldn’t resist. She sent me a text. “Alex, don’t say I didn’t warn you. The three days are almost up.” The message was met with deafening silence. Aria’s brow furrowed. The noisy room seemed to quiet down around her, chilled by the cold aura she was emitting. The air grew thick, and everyone’s breathing became shallow, careful. Suddenly, the door to the room swung open. The sound made everyone look up. A colleague burst in, breathless and beaming. “He’s here, Ms. Aria! He’s downstairs!” “And he’s all dressed up! He looks incredible. You have to go see!” The tension in Aria’s face instantly dissolved. She leaned back against the sofa, a triumphant, arrogant smile spreading across her face. “Go tell him he’s late,” she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “It’s one minute past midnight. Getting back together won’t be that easy.”

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Right before we went to sleep, my husband asked me a question. “Would you ever fall in love with someone else and divorce me?” My face, hidden under a sheet mask, tightened instantly. I lowered my eyes and let out a soft, dry chuckle. “Why? Did you find someone you love?” 1 My words seemed to short-circuit him. His mouth opened and closed, a flicker of panic darting through his eyes. A moment later, he forced the corners of his mouth into a stiff grin. “Sarah, come on. I was just talking hypothetically. Where is your head at?” He stood up, grabbing his running gear. “Go to sleep. I’m going for a night run.” “Is that so?” I tried to smile back, but the muscles in my face felt heavy. It was hard because I knew he wasn’t speaking hypothetically. A night run? Since when does a lead software engineer, exhausted after a twelve-hour shift of coding, find joy in a solitary run at 11 PM? “Are you going with that girl? The one with the long hair?” Ethan paused, one foot halfway into his sneaker. He turned, a look of genuine alarm on his face. “That’s just a colleague from the office.” He thought for a second, then added, “We just bumped into each other on the trail. Don’t misunderstand.” “I saw you two yesterday,” I said, my voice quiet. “On the track by the lake. She fed you a piece of chocolate.” What I didn’t say was that I also heard what she said. Her voice was thick with regret. Why did we meet so late? If only we had met a few years earlier, we could have been together. Ethan swapped his running shoes back for house slippers. I was still standing in the bedroom doorway. He walked over, gripping my shoulders. “You stay at home all day; it’s too easy for you to let your imagination run wild. I won’t go running tonight. Let’s just sleep.” He walked past me toward the bathroom. But his wedding ring, usually on his finger, had fallen onto the floor mat next to his running shoes. I knew then. He wasn’t just running. He was running away. 2 I needed to know. What kind of colleague was she? What did she have that made her more relaxing to him than his own family? I wanted to see the person who could so easily shatter four years of dating and ten years of marriage. We survived college. We survived the poverty of his early startup days. We survived the death of his mother. We survived the nights we held each other crying when the funding fell through. We survived every time we had to mortgage the house to keep the company afloat. And yet, we were losing to a cup of craft coffee in the breakroom? I saw her at his company’s anniversary gala. She was vibrant. Capable. Outside the revolving doors, an intern stumbled, dropping a tower of gift boxes. She rushed forward in four-inch heels, catching the bottom of the stack with one hand, her pearl earrings blurring with the motion. She directed the staff efficiently, then crouched down to put a Band-Aid on the intern’s scraped heel. The whole sequence was fluid, graceful. Her smile was unshakeable. I stood in the lobby, watching Ethan panic as he ran to her side. “Are you okay?” he asked, breathless. She looked up, and her eyes met mine across the security gates. We locked eyes for three seconds. Ethan, realizing I was there, instinctively let go of her hand. He walked quickly toward me, his body positioning itself to block my view of her. “Sarah,” he said, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “This is my colleague, Claire.” A colleague? A special colleague that required him to shield her with his body? Claire looked me in the eye calmly. There was no panic. It was as if I were the intruder. 3 We sat on opposite sides of the long table in his company’s conference room. We looked less like husband and wife and more like two parties in a hostile negotiation. He kept his head down, his hair falling over his evasive eyes. “Sarah…” I looked at him, waiting. He swallowed hard, his lips pressing into a thin line. He didn’t continue. I didn’t believe for a second that he didn’t know I knew. But I wanted to hear him say it. I wanted him to own the decision. Outside the frosted glass, I saw a white silhouette pacing. Ethan saw it too. It seemed to give him the resolve he needed. “Sarah, I’m sorry. But I have to admit, this marriage… it feels like work. I think… I don’t love you anymore.” I knew it. But knowing it didn’t make the words hurt any less. I thought I had prepared myself, but the burning sensation in my eyes betrayed me. “What about Leo?” My voice cracked. Leo is our son. Seven years old. Ethan looked up, startled by my tears. He looked helpless. “Leo… Sarah, Leo is my son. Of course I love him. But…” He chugged a glass of water as if it were vodka. “But I don’t want my son growing up in a home without love.” Having finally dislodged the boulder in his throat, the rest of the words poured out faster. “Sarah, counting college, we’ve been together fourteen years. I know you sacrificed a lot for me, for this family. But I work so hard every day. When I come home, I just want to relax. But all you talk about is your parents, the kid, the house… our romance is dead. It’s flavorless. I am just… so tired.” He finally looked me in the eye. I gripped my sleeves, digging my nails into my palms to stop the tears. “How long have you been together?” He waved his hands frantically. “No! Sarah, I didn’t cheat! We haven’t done anything physical. It’s been strictly professional!” Strictly professional? I laughed bitterly. Does an emotional affair not count as cheating? “Go tell Leo,” I said, standing up. “I’ll sign the papers.” 4 When I walked out of the conference room, Claire was standing by the door. We stared at each other. Neither spoke. She knew who I was. The office was empty; everyone was setting up for the gala. Ethan rushed out behind me. “Sarah, please don’t—” I smiled. “Don’t what? You think I’m going to hit her?” Ethan’s mouth hung open. He didn’t deny it. A wave of bitterness washed over me. Claire looked at me with a calm, almost pitying expression. Pity for what? For disrupting my family? “Don’t overthink it, Ethan,” Claire said softly, touching his sleeve. “Ms. Fang wasn’t going to do anything. I was just worried you wouldn’t be able to get a ride, so I waited.” Ethan instantly relaxed under her touch. “Silly, don’t overthink it…” He stopped mid-sentence, realizing I was still there. The same words. I realized then that “sweet nothings” are recyclable. You can say them to anyone.

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I had become the “Ditsy Intern” in a trashy CEO romance novel. At a high-stakes business dinner, the System ordered me to demand a Dino-Nugget Happy Meal. I refused. I’d rather die. The System flooded my mouth with the taste of rotten herring and vinegar. I folded immediately. In a voice as small as a mosquito, I squeaked, “I… I want the Dino-Nuggets with the chocolate milk…” Sebastian Sterling, the billionaire CEO, lifted his eyes to look at me. The System screamed in excitement: “Ahhh! The CEO is totally going to pamper you now! He loves your innocence!” The next second, my manager leaned into my ear and whispered like a demon: “Eat your damn nuggets in the alley. Get the hell out of here.” 1 “Hurry up! Demand the nuggets!” The System nagged incessantly in my brain. I gritted my teeth. “We are at a Michelin-star steakhouse. Why would I order dinosaur nuggets? Humiliating me at the office isn’t enough? You have to ruin me in front of the investors too?” I honestly didn’t know why a low-level grunt like me was even at a dinner of this caliber, but the System told me to stop asking questions. Apparently, this was normal in CEO romance logic. The System didn’t care about logic. “If you don’t order, I initiate the punishment phase.” Screw it. Punish me. Shock me until I glow in the dark. I am not ordering dinosaur nuggets at a business merger dinner! The next second, my mouth was filled with the taste of fermented fish guts. Oh god. This dog of a System actually did it. It tasted like licking a marathon runner’s armpit in a sauna. I broke instantly. “I want the Dino-Nuggets…” I whispered. The System cheered. “The CEO is definitely noticing you now! He thinks you’re so unique! Who is this quirky girl braving the corporate world? He vows to protect your rare innocence!” Sebastian Sterling lifted his heavy eyelids and looked at me, a frown creasing his brow. He was wearing a bespoke Italian suit that probably cost more than my life, his features chiseled and deep, gold-rimmed glasses perched on a high nose bridge. He radiated expensive, untouchable energy. The System was ecstatic. “Sebastian thinks you’re special! Ordering a baby meal at a business dinner? So cute!” Just as the System was drowning in its own delusions, Sebastian shot a subtle glance at my department head. My manager stood up, walked over to me, and through a perfect customer-service smile, hissed: “Eat your damn nuggets in the alley. Get the hell out of here.” Thank god. Finally, a normal person in this book. The working class is saved. 2 I had transmigrated into the role of the “Clumsy Corporate Pet” in a CEO novel. Or, to be more accurate, the “Whiny Burden.” In my previous life, I was a high-powered executive. I died because I left a snarky comment on a TikTok video about one of these “pampered office girl” tropes. I wrote: “Wow! She’s eating a Happy Meal during a board meeting! So fresh! So cute! I bet her salary is also child-sized, right? All that whining and no raise, but at least the nuggets are free~” As soon as I hit send, I strained too hard. My hemorrhoid burst. The pain was so intense I blacked out. I tried to stand up, slipped on the tiles with my pants around my ankles, smashed the back of my head on the toilet rim, and died. When I opened my eyes, I was here. In this book. With this System forcing me to act like a toddler in a blazer. My manager asked me to prep coffee; the System forced me to swap it for bubble tea. I had to wear fuzzy, oversized sweaters and shoes with bunny ears while navigating a sea of sharks in Armani suits. I was forced to be a walking disaster zone. For someone who was an elite professional in her past life, this was torture worse than death. I don’t understand what kind of brain damage leads to the creation of this “Useless Assistant” genre. In my old life, I hated my coworkers. Now? I open my eyes and want to murder the author. I wasn’t here to work for the company. I was here to be worked by the company. 3 I dragged my exhausted body back to my rental apartment. The System was still muttering to itself, confused why Sebastian didn’t follow the script and fall in love with my incompetence. I patiently explained, “Listen. In the real world, a low-level grunt doesn’t order food at a business dinner. The menu is set. The administrative team arranges the venue and the courses based on headcount and rank. High-end dinners do not serve dinosaur nuggets!” I was getting angrier as I spoke. “Have you ever even been to a business meeting?” The System sounded aggrieved. “But it shouldn’t be like this! Sebastian should find you interesting! He should think you’re clumsy and silly and super cute, and then fall helplessly in love with you!” I rolled my eyes. This System was clearly the type who fell in love with their drill sergeant during boot camp. If one of my subordinates ordered nuggets in front of a client, I would have fired them on the spot. Sebastian just kicking me out? That was practically saint-like behavior. My phone buzzed. Payday. My expression dropped. Damn it. This “Clumsy Pet” role not only required me to eat toddler food, but it also came with a toddler’s allowance. I looked at the number. It wasn’t even a fraction of my old salary. It looked more like a refund from Amazon than a paycheck. Sigh. I transferred rent to the landlord. Another month working just to have a roof over my head. 4 The next day, my manager looked at my pink frilly dress and fuzzy shoes. “Chloe,” she said, her voice heavy with exhaustion. “You are 28 years old. You need to be professional. Look at how your colleagues dress.” She didn’t say it, but her eyes screamed: You look ridiculous. I wanted to hug her and cry. I wanted to tell her the System forced me to wear this or it would fill my mouth with raw onions. But I couldn’t. Any mention of the System was automatically muted. I just lowered my head, trying to shrink into the floor. Because my next task was starting. Today’s Mission: Break the printer, then post a selfie with the caption: “Oopsie! I’m so dumb, technology is hard!~” Afternoon Mission: Spill coffee on Sebastian. The System insisted this would make him love me. I suspected the System had brain rot from reading too much Wattpad. As soon as I jammed the printer, my manager roared from behind me: “Chloe! Why is the printer broken again? That’s the third time this month! What is wrong with you?” I closed my eyes in despair. In my past life, I graduated from an Ivy League school. I was top of my class. I earned an eight-figure salary as the right hand of Julian, the most difficult CEO in the city. People called me “The CEO’s Loyal Dog.” I wore that title with pride. If I was a dog, I was a Golden Retriever with a diamond collar. And now? I was a 28-year-old woman pretending I didn’t know how paper worked. Is this my punishment for working too hard? 5 Complaining aside, the mission had to be done. The System’s shocks were no joke. I think it trained under a torturer. I carried the coffee into Sebastian’s office. He was reviewing documents. He glanced at me once, then ignored me. He leaned one elbow on the desk, flipping through the quarterly financial report, tapping his finger rhythmically on the mahogany. I twitched. That look… that tapping… it was terrifyingly familiar. It reminded me of my old boss, Julian. “Spill it! Spill it now!” The System shrieked. “According to the trope, if you spill coffee on him, he’ll think you’re clumsy and say the classic line!” “Woman, you have successfully caught my attention.” I suppressed the urge to vomit and walked toward Sebastian. I “tripped.” The cup flew. The hot coffee landed squarely on Sebastian’s… Crotch. F*ck. Why there? Of all places? I stopped breathing. My eyes bulged. That was scalding hot Americano. I had sinned. The Sterling bloodline might end here. Sebastian’s face turned purple. He clenched his jaw so hard I heard a crack, trying not to scream. Even the System panicked. “I said catch his attention, not destroy his future generations!” “Chloe…” Sebastian hissed through gritted teeth. “What. Are. You. Doing?” Sebastian went to the hospital. Second-degree burns. He lay in the hospital bed, looking like he wanted to die. I stood in the corner, nervously rubbing my left ring finger with my thumb. It was a habit I had when I was stressed. I was busy bargaining with the System on how to keep my job when I heard a name. “Harper.” I froze. I looked at the source. It was Sebastian. How did he know my name from my previous life? Sebastian narrowed his eyes at me. He looked at my hand rubbing my finger. “Harper Quinn.” The tone… the cadence… the cold judgment. It hit me like a lightning bolt. My idiot ex-boss had transmigrated too?!

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After five grueling years on my mission, I was finally back in my own world. But my children were clinging to a woman who looked almost identical to me. My husband wore a strained, awkward expression. And my parents, their eyes shifting guiltily, offered an explanation. “This is Sienna. When you were in a coma, she… she took on your responsibilities.” “We owe her a great deal.” 1. My son and daughter held tight to Sienna’s skirt, their eyes wary as they watched me. It was as if I were some kind of monster. I clenched the bedsheets, a sharp pain twisting in my heart. The hand my husband, Ethan, had on my shoulder tightened. I looked around at the others in the room. They had been discussing the automatic emergency alert system they’d installed on my phone, but Sienna’s sudden entrance had clearly caught them off guard. My parents looked deeply uncomfortable. “While you were unconscious, Sienna was the one who took care of us,” my dad explained. “We were going to introduce you properly when we got home.” My mother-in-law chimed in. “Yes, now that you’re awake, you two should get along. Don’t cause us any more worry, alright?” Sienna smiled, a challenging glint in her eyes, and walked over to my bedside. I said nothing. In my mind, I silenced the System. I’ll give you my answer in a few days. The System’s synthesized voice sighed, then faded into the background of my thoughts. Seeing that I was ignoring her, Sienna’s eyes welled with tears. She blinked, and a single tear traced a path down her cheek as she forced a pitiful smile. “I’m so sorry, I was being impulsive. It’s only natural that you’d hate me. I’ll… I’ll go…” She didn’t give anyone a chance to react. She just turned and fled. My mother-in-law stomped her foot in frustration and hurried after her. Ethan instinctively stood up, but his eyes met mine and he froze, slowly sinking back into his chair. He pulled me into a tight embrace, his voice the same soothing murmur he’d always used to comfort me. “Don’t overthink it. You’re the only one for me.” My daughter, Lily, lifted her skirt and ran after Sienna. My son, Finn, shot me a look of pure hatred before slamming the door so hard the walls shook. I didn’t understand. My two sweet, adorable children… how had they become like this? Seeing my silence, my parents excused themselves to handle the discharge paperwork. A short while later, I was in a wheelchair, being pushed out of the hospital. But as the car pulled away, I realized we weren’t heading home. “Dad,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “If I remember correctly, this isn’t the way home.” My father’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. He forced a laugh. “Our Ashley’s memory is as sharp as ever.” He drove in a long, circuitous route, finally ending up at our house. I didn’t understand what he was doing until I stepped through the front door. The large family portrait that had hung in the entryway was gone. In its place was a photo of them—my family—with Sienna. I stared at the picture, then without a word, I marched upstairs and threw open the door to my old bedroom. Just as I suspected. Sienna had taken over, making my room her own. My chest heaved with a mixture of anger and disbelief as I took in the completely redecorated space. And there, sitting on the bed, was Sienna, reading a bedtime story to my son. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. For five years, I had thrown myself into every mission the System gave me, all for this. All to be reunited with my family. And now, there was no place for me here. “You were planning to take me somewhere else, weren’t you?” I asked, my eyes fixed on the man I had once adored more than anyone. My father shifted uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze. “I’ll get your room ready for you, Ash. This will always be your home.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Sienna’s eyes filled with tears again. She stood up without a word and began gathering her things. But my son stopped her. When no one was looking, he launched himself at me, shoving me to the ground. He grabbed whatever was within reach and started throwing it at me, screaming. “You came back and now you’re bullying my mommy! You’re a bad woman!” “Get out!” “Get out of my house!” I stared at the snarling, furious child before me, completely frozen. 2. Finn’s outburst shocked everyone. Ethan grabbed his arm, his brow furrowed in anger. “Finn! What do you think you’re doing?” Tears streamed down my son’s face as he continued to curse at me. The commotion woke Lily, who began to wail. Sienna scooped her up, her own tears flowing freely. “Stop it, both of you! It’s all my fault. I’ll just go!” She made a move to leave. But my mother spoke up, her voice sharp. “Everyone, be quiet!” “Sienna, you’re not going anywhere. You can keep this room.” My breath caught in my throat. I looked at my mother, who was frowning at me. “Ashley, I’ll have someone clear out the entire third floor for you tomorrow. For tonight, you can sleep in the guest room.” Her words echoed something I had asked her as a child. “Mommy, this is the master bedroom, isn’t it? Why aren’t you and Daddy sleeping here? Why is it for me?” She had hugged me then, her smile sweet. “Because this room holds all our best wishes for you, my darling. We want our Ashley to be happy forever.” The memory was a sharp, physical pain. The tears I’d been holding back finally fell. I turned my head, wiping them away, and walked out of the room without another word. My mother started to say something, but then stopped. Back in the guest room, I collapsed onto the bed, burying my face in the pillow and letting the sobs rack my body. Suddenly, a warm embrace enveloped me. Ethan. He placed a soft kiss on my head, stroking my hair. “What are we going to do if your eyes are all swollen tomorrow, honey?” he sighed. I looked up at him through blurry, tear-filled eyes. He offered a small, sad smile. I don’t know how long I cried, but eventually, his shirt was soaked through. I pulled back, embarrassed, and rubbed my eyes. “You should go take a shower.” He held me tight for another moment before picking up his phone and heading into the bathroom. I expected him to be quick—he usually just rinsed off in under ten minutes. But this time, the sound of the water was a constant drone that lulled me into a restless sleep. I woke up to the sound of Ethan closing the door. I blinked, my eyes drawn to his phone on the nightstand. The screen lit up for a moment. Sienna’s name flashed across the screen. Waiting for you. My heart skipped a beat. I reached for the phone, my fingers fumbling to unlock it. But when I entered the passcode, it was wrong. Ethan’s passcode had always been my birthday. I tried again. Not my birthday. Not his. Not the kids’. Then I remembered the birthday I’d seen listed in Sienna’s contact information. I typed it in. The phone unlocked. The blood in my veins turned to ice. I opened their chat history. For the past hour, while he was in the bathroom, Ethan had been on a video call with Sienna. The phone slipped from my grasp. I bit my lip, willing the tears not to fall. After a long moment, I got up and walked to Sienna’s room. The door was slightly ajar. Inside, Sienna was draped over Ethan’s arm, her smile coy as she leaned in and kissed him. And Ethan… he wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her back, with even more passion. 3. I stood there, a silent observer to my own personal torture, until my legs gave out and I sank to the floor. A small noise from the kitchen drew my attention. My seven-year-old daughter, Lily, was standing on a stool, clumsily stirring something in a pot. Worried she would get hurt, I went to her. She was muttering to herself. “Mommy doesn’t like cilantro, or scallions…” She lifted the pot from the stove with the careful concentration of a much older child, and my heart softened. But when she turned and saw me, her expression soured. “What are you doing here, you bad woman!” It hit me then. The “mommy” she was talking about was Sienna. My lips trembled. “Lily, I’m your mother. How could you…” “You’re not my mother!” she shouted, pushing past me with the pot of hot soup and heading towards Sienna’s room. The shove sent me stumbling backwards, my spine cracking against the corner of the counter. The pain was sharp, radiating through my body. I followed her back to the room. Lily was carefully blowing on a spoonful of soup before offering it to Sienna. Sienna praised her with a smile, and Ethan pulled her into his lap, teasing. “Our Lily knows how to take care of her mommy even better than her big brother.” I watched the happy, domestic scene from the doorway, a bitter ache in my chest. They were a perfect family. And I was the intruder. I turned and walked away. The next morning, Ethan woke me with his customary good-morning kiss. I turned my head, avoiding it. He froze for a moment, then took my hand and led me to the dining table. But there was no place set for me. Sienna sat in my usual chair, a smug smile on her face. Ethan looked flustered. He gently pushed me into his own seat. “Um…” the housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, began nervously. “I didn’t prepare a meal for Ms. Ashley…” Everyone stared. My mother looked confused. “Didn’t Sienna tell you?” Sienna let out a little gasp. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I went to bed so late last night, and I overslept. I completely forgot to tell Mrs. Gable…” “Here, you can have my breakfast…” My mother-in-law pressed her hand down. “You sit right there.” My father agreed. “You need to eat. You’re already too thin.” I was invisible. I watched them, a perfect, harmonious family, and my hands, hidden at my sides, curled into tight fists. My mother sighed and told the housekeeper to make another breakfast, then took my hand and started talking about a welcome-home party. “Now that you’re finally back, we want to throw a party for you. Ethan can take you to try on some dresses later.” I pulled my hand away, numbly nodding. I looked at my mother’s face, really looked at it, and a question began to form in my mind. Do I even want to stay here anymore? 4. At the party, my father was busy introducing Sienna to all of his business partners and old friends. I started to walk over, but my mother stopped me. “Your father is introducing Sienna as his successor,” she hissed, giving me a sharp look. “Don’t go over there. We’ll give you shares in the company. You can live off the dividends.” I was stunned. “But you always said that I would…” “That was before.” My mother gripped my hand tightly, as if afraid I would make a scene. “Just be good, Ashley.” She led me to a corner, and I followed in a daze. My attention was drawn to a figure across the room. It was Ethan. The same Ethan who had promised me he would never drink again was now downing glass after glass of champagne, shielding Sienna from having to drink. He had a sensitive stomach. I remembered the time he had ended up in the hospital with severe cramps, and I had cried myself sick with worry. He had promised me then. He had even let his friends tease him for being whipped. Now, I watched him drain one glass after another. It wasn’t long before he was clutching his stomach, his face pale. Forgetting everything else, I rushed to his side and grabbed his arm. “Have you forgotten what you promised me?” He looked at my worried face, a flicker of guilt and gratitude in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Ashley, I…” “Don’t talk.” I took a deep breath and, without a word to anyone else, helped him out of the ballroom. By the time we got to the hospital, he had passed out. The doctor put him on an IV. I was about to go pay the bill when Ethan grabbed my wrist. “Don’t go…” I couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh. I leaned down to soothe him, but then I heard him whisper Sienna’s name. “Don’t go, Sienna.” It was like being struck by lightning. I froze, my heart squeezed in a vise. I pried his fingers from my wrist, paid the bill, and drove straight home. “…Sienna is pregnant now. We can’t let her get an abortion!” I had my hand on the doorknob, but my mother-in-law’s voice from inside stopped me. “Maybe Ethan should divorce Ashley and marry Sienna.” She was looking to my parents for support. My mother sighed. “It’s true. If Ashley gets divorced, she’ll still have us. But Sienna is all alone. It makes sense for her to marry Ethan.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. In just a few words, they had decided my fate. I stood there, stunned, when a soft laugh came from behind me. “So what if you’re awake, Ashley?” I turned to see Sienna looking at me, her eyes full of triumph. “In the end, I still replaced you.” I forced myself to stand tall. “A replacement is always just a replacement. How long do you think this stolen happiness will last?” My words seemed to strike a nerve. Her expression hardened. “We’ll see whose happiness it is in the end!” With that, she grabbed my hand and gave a violent shove. A loud scream echoed through the hall as she tumbled down the stairs. Blood began to pool between her legs. The conversation inside stopped. The door flew open, and the three of them saw the horrific scene. A sharp smack as my father’s hand connected with my face. My mother-in-law shoved me, and I fell to the floor. My father pointed a trembling finger at me. “What the hell are you doing?” I opened my mouth to explain, but they didn’t give me a chance. My mother’s only words were, “If anything happens to Sienna, you don’t have to come back to this family ever again!” Tears blurred my vision. I watched my father scoop Sienna into his arms and rush to the car. My mother and mother-in-law followed without a single glance in my direction. Something inside me snapped. I don’t know how long I sat there as the wind and rain whipped around me. I laughed, a broken, hollow sound. “System, I don’t want to stay here anymore.” “I want to go back to the mission world.”

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My mother was obsessed with competing with me. When my grandmother gave me a jade bangle, my mother’s eyes turned red with envy. She snatched it from me, snarling, “A worthless girl like you doesn’t deserve such a fine thing!” When my boyfriend sent me a bouquet for Valentine’s Day, she gritted her teeth in rage, then feigned nonchalance. “He only likes you because you’re my daughter. If I were a few years younger, do you think he’d even look at you?” Later, she actually climbed into my boyfriend’s bed, naked. When she was caught, she begged us not to tell my father. Soft-hearted, I agreed. But during a family trip to a scenic mountain, she pushed me off a cliff… Before I died, I saw her face twisted in a euphoric grin. “Everything you have is only because you’re my daughter! Why should you have a better life than me? I should never have given birth to you!” When I opened my eyes again, it was the summer after my high school graduation. Mom, this time, I won’t be silent. I’ll be the loudspeaker broadcasting your “victories” in this twisted competition. 1 When I was seven, I admired a matching mother-daughter outfit in a shop window. I tugged at my mother’s skirt to show her. She looked at me with disgust. “Are you just trying to outshine me so your dad will praise you?” At fourteen, while Dad was away on business, I cooked a huge meal for her while she was out shopping, hoping for a smile or a compliment. Instead, she flipped the table in a rage, screaming, “You wasteful brat! I worked so hard to raise you, I quit my job for you! What’s the point of cooking all this? Who are you trying to impress?!” I thought I would wake up eventually. I thought I would stop craving her warmth. At eighteen, I got into college. My grandparents gave me an exquisite jade bangle. She made snide remarks and threw fits until I offered it to her with both hands. Only when it was on her wrist did she calm down. Later, in college, I found a boyfriend who genuinely loved me. When I excitedly shared my happiness with my family, she tried on my clothes in my room behind my father’s back. Posing in front of the mirror, she scoffed, “If I were a few years younger, do you think he’d ever look at you?” In the end, she crawled naked into my boyfriend’s bed. When he fled screaming in terror, she cried and begged me not to tell my dad. I softened again. The price of my soft heart was my life ending in a nameless valley. 2 The moment I opened my eyes, I still felt the dull pain of the rocks against the back of my head, and the shock and resentment filling my chest. When I came to my senses, I found myself squatting in the bathroom, staring at a basin full of socks so dirty they were black. It was the summer after my high school graduation. My dad, wearing a tank top and carrying a bowl of fruit to wash, passed by the bathroom. He poked his head in and grinned at me, eyes full of relief. “Looks like our Lily has grown up. Not a lazy girl anymore.” Before I could speak, my mom, like a bloodhound tracking her prey, appeared. She wore tight jeans and pink slippers, even her toenails studded with rhinestones. Holding a tub of Häagen-Dazs she just took from the fridge, she looked me up and down and let out a disdainful “Tch.” “Not lazy? If she wasn’t lazy, would she save up so many dirty socks before washing them?” Dad looked awkward, wanting to speak but stopping himself. As if smelling something foul, Mom covered her nose in disgust, taking a big step back and pulling Dad with her. “Lily, how long have you been wearing these? Your feet stink! You didn’t inherit a single good trait from me. Dark and skinny is bad enough, but a girl with foot odor?” I stood up, wiped my hands on a towel, and grinned at my parents. “Mom, you forgot. You told me to throw away your dirty socks.” “So you went into my room, took my clean socks, wore them until they were dirty, and stuffed them back in my drawer?” “I can’t just let them sit there dirty, so I’m washing them.” The air filled with a terrifying silence. Mom’s face turned green with rage, her hand hovering over her nose, unsure whether to keep covering it or drop it. I ignored them, walked past, and went straight to my room, locking the door. Half an hour later, I received a text from Dad: “Lily, you shouldn’t be so blunt. It hurts people. She’s your mother after all. She’s been crying on the sofa for half an hour. Come out and apologize.” I sneered and closed the chat. She is my mother, but if she truly treated me like a daughter, she wouldn’t have pushed me off a cliff in my past life. As for her crying, real or fake, it wasn’t because my words hurt her heart. It was because the perfect image she meticulously built in front of her husband had been torn open, exposing the truth. She was humiliated. 3 My dad was an only child. My grandparents were retired teachers who lived in the same apartment complex. To celebrate my acceptance into the city’s Normal University, the old couple prepared a big feast at their home and invited our whole family. On the way downstairs, Mom wore sunglasses and refused to talk to me, probably because I exposed her sock secret the other day. But she hummed a tune, seemingly in a good mood. When a familiar neighbor asked why she was so happy, she took off her sunglasses and acted coy. “Oh, my daughter isn’t very capable. She only got into the local Normal U. Her grandparents wouldn’t even book a hotel for her graduation party.” “It’s all because she didn’t try hard enough. Back when Frank and I got married, we had the best hotel in the city, the best dress, the best jewelry…” “What’s the use of my in-laws valuing me? She’s just disappointing. In the old days, they’d call her a money-loser.” Reaching the part she enjoyed, Mom covered her mouth and giggled, trembling with laughter. I couldn’t be bothered to respond. Her breakdown was coming later. Arriving at the other building, Grandma was already waiting downstairs with a beaming smile. Seeing me, she pulled me into a hug, patting my shoulder. “Our Lily is so capable! City Normal U, that’s wonderful!” She led me upstairs, arm around my shoulder, seemingly forgetting there was another person behind us. Entering the apartment, I realized it wasn’t just my grandparents. The living room was full of men and women, surrounding Grandpa. They were all well-dressed and successful-looking. Following Grandma inside, people stood up one by one, greeting me with smiles and handing me gifts. I thanked them under Grandma’s guidance and chatted, realizing these were all former students of my grandparents, invited to celebrate my success. When Mom walked in and saw so many people, she froze. Seeing the pile of gifts in my arms, the familiar hateful glint returned to her eyes. I knew that look too well. Learning she was my mother, the guests exchanged polite pleasantries, but their distance was obvious. Mom didn’t seem to sense the awkward atmosphere. She sat herself down carelessly and started chatting intimately with those around her. The topic was invariably me. How she never expected a daughter who was last in her class in middle school to get into college. How I, a wasteful and argumentative daughter at home, acted so obedient outside. I saw the guests’ faces turn uncomfortable; some couldn’t even keep up with her conversation. Suddenly, Mom said quietly, “Lily, are your scores even real?” Silence fell over the room. Questioning her own daughter’s academic integrity at her graduation party—she was definitely the first. Grandpa cleared his throat, interrupting her. “It’s getting late. Everyone, please take a seat.” Mom was silenced. She wanted to sit next to me, but Grandma said coldly, “Lily sits between me and the old man today. Frank’s wife, you don’t have a problem with that, do you?” She wouldn’t dare. If Grandma farted, she’d rush to smell it and call it perfume. The atmosphere at the table improved. Everyone but Mom wore smiles, encouraging me to broaden my horizons in college. At 7:30, Dad rushed back. Shortly after he sat down, Grandma brought out an exquisite box from the inner room. She opened it in front of everyone. Inside lay a beautiful jade bangle, translucent and smooth. Tears welled up in the old couple’s eyes. “Lily is going to college. Grandma and Grandpa prepared a gift too. This is for you. May your life be smooth and safe.” Grandma took my hand, ready to slide the bangle onto my wrist. That was when the accident happened. Mom suddenly rushed over, eyes red, and snatched the bangle from Grandma’s hand. Her voice was shrill: “Mom! She’s just a worthless girl! Why give her such an expensive gift?!” The room erupted in shock. Dad reacted first. His face darkened. He patted Mom’s shoulder, whispering her name, signaling her to behave. Mom shook off Dad’s hand, shouting, “Did I say anything wrong, Frank? I carried on the family line for the Zhangs! Even if I only gave birth to this money-loser, I still contributed!” “Are you just going to let your parents trample my face into the ground?!” The guests looked at each other, hesitant to speak, silence reigning. In my past life, under such a grand display of madness from my mother, I would have buried my head in the sand, apologizing in a mosquito’s voice while tugging at her clothes. My grandparents, seeing me like that, couldn’t support me even if they wanted to. They could only sigh. And after getting home, I would have offered this precious gift to her with both hands just to make her stop. My thoughts returned. Dad frowned, looking at me pleadingly, as if hoping I would step up to smooth things over. I feigned helplessness and grabbed Grandma’s hand. I said, “Mom, you melted down all the silver bracelets, necklaces, and earrings Grandma gave me for seventeen years to make new jewelry for yourself. But can you please not take this bangle? I really like it…” “This is a graduation gift from Grandma and Grandpa. It means something different…” My voice trailed off at the end, sounding unsure. A crazy mom, a passive dad, and a broken me. Anyone with eyes could see the truth. Smash! A loud crash beside me made Mom jump, her lips trembling uncontrollably. Grandpa had smashed a bowl. Shards flew everywhere. I trembled too, feeling a gentle squeeze on my hand. Meeting Grandma’s reassuring gaze, warmth rose in my heart. “Lily, you said your mother took all the silver jewelry we gave you for seventeen years and melted it down for herself?” Grandpa’s face was grim. I nodded timidly, hesitating. “Mom said I have dark skin, so wearing those things looked dark and tacky, so she took them…” Whispers broke out among the guests. Seeing the commotion, Mom shrieked: “Dad, how can you listen to a child’s nonsense? How could I take her things? I’m saving them for her…” “Kids shouldn’t be so flashy.” Seeing Mom’s stiff smile, Grandma scoffed. “In that case, go home right now and bring back everything we gave Lily.” At this point, Mom seemed to lose the ability to argue, but she refused to give up. The guests, sensing the family drama, politely made excuses to leave. When most people were gone, Mom ignored Dad’s warning looks and continued to be stubborn. “Mom, Dad, I’ve been married into the Zhang family for so many years, raised Lily this big. She’s just a child. Aren’t her things mine?” 4 Hearing this, I sneered internally. Yes, just because you gave birth to me. My things must be yours. My achievements are all thanks to you. I should live in your shadow. You whisper in my ear under the guise of love, magnifying my flaws to highlight your superiority. But Mom, I should be your daughter, not your competitor. Dad, the invisible man, looked bad too. In our small family, he was the head, indulging his wife’s tantrums and forcing me to compromise as a father. But here, he was the son. In this atmosphere, he wished he were the grandson. Grandma’s gaze was cool but disappointed. “I don’t care what you did before, but this is a gift from us to our granddaughter.” “A thief in the family is still a thief.” “If I ever see anything belonging to Lily on you again, you don’t need to step through this door.” Mom’s face turned green then red. She grabbed her sunglasses, stomped her foot in rage, huffed, and left unwillingly. Youth is priceless; confronting Mom is priceless-er. Since my rebirth, I’ve confronted my mom twice, exposing a small part of her true nature to my dad and grandparents. She treated me like air these days, pretending I didn’t exist. Dad sighed constantly, hinting I should apologize. Hilarious. Who complains about too much peace? Living comfortably, I made it to the start of college. College life was rich, and so was my mom’s social media. I often heard my roommate, who scrolled videos late at night, complaining: “Check the video I tagged you in. Is this lady crazy? She posted a photo of her daughter’s back with photoshopped white hair, and a filtered-to-death selfie of herself, asking netizens to guess who is the mom and who is the daughter?” I clicked the tag. As expected, the video featured me and my mom. Luckily, my face wasn’t visible. I sighed in relief. Not completely humiliated. My roommate on the bottom bunk had a sharp tongue. She typed furiously. A moment later, I saw her comment: “The daughter with the photoshopped white hair is the mom, and the auntie with the heavy filter is the daughter.” Reading her comment, we all burst into laughter. Two months into the semester, I was studying in the library with my roommates. Suddenly, a note was slid in front of me. Following the slender hand, I saw a familiar face—my boyfriend from my past life. I smiled, accepted the note, and added his contact info under my roommates’ teasing gazes. Just then, a message from Dad popped up on WeChat. “Lily, you and Mom have been in a cold war for so long. She can’t bring herself to apologize, but she misses you dearly. When will you come back to visit?” I thought for a moment and typed: “Next month.” A month is enough to do many things, like fall in love. Mom misses me? Thinking about those words gave me chills from head to toe. My roommate nudged me, showing me her phone. It was another video from Mom. Maybe she got roasted too hard on the last one, so she launched a “loving mother” persona. Same video, new caption: “Mommy’s little jacket, I miss you so much. Don’t stay away just because of a few words.” A sensible netizen commented: “The auntie who looks like a daughter doesn’t seem to have a good relationship with the daughter who looks like a mom.” Mom replied instantly: “My daughter is coming back to see me next month.” So that’s why she wanted me back so urgently. Ignoring me for months was fine, but now she “missed me dearly.” Her “pampered wife” persona wasn’t enough; she needed a doting daughter too. But this time, she wouldn’t get what she wanted.

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1 My mother was dying. In a moment of lucidity in the ICU, she decided to make her will. “Mrs. Lewis, you want to draft your will?” “Yes, while I’m still clear… I need to settle my estate.” Mother took a deep breath. Her voice was weak, but every word was clear. Mr. Lee, the lawyer, took out his pen and notebook, his expression serious behind his glasses. “Alright, Mrs. Lewis. Go ahead.” “Besides the house, I have $200,000 in my bank account.” The sentence was a bombshell. I stared at my mother in disbelief. When did she save $200,000? She was a retiree living on a small pension of $1,500 a month. “The house goes to Daniel.” My brother, Daniel, smiled slightly. He expected this. That house was worth at least $300,000. “As for… the s-savings… that also goes to Daniel. The jewelry in my old chest goes to Sarah.” Mother finished trembling, but her tone was firm. The air in the room solidified. My breathing stopped for a second. I stared blankly at my mother, ears ringing, sounds distant and unreal. “Mom…” “What… did you say?” I opened my mouth, but my voice was dry and barely audible. Mother’s gaze remained on Daniel, as if she hadn’t heard me. Her fingers gently stroked Daniel’s hand, eyes full of tenderness. “Daniel has had it hard these years, struggling out there,” she said weakly but firmly. “The house and savings are for him. It’s the least I can do as a mother.” Daniel was hit by the jackpot! Eyes shining, he hugged Mother excitedly. “Mom, Mom, I don’t want it… You have to live a long life. I haven’t been filial enough yet.” My heart felt squeezed, breathing difficult. I looked at Mother’s pale face and suddenly felt she was a stranger. Growing up, she never looked at me this long, let alone spoke to me so gently. “Mom, what about me?” I couldn’t help but ask, voice trembling. “I’m your daughter too.” Mother finally turned to me. Her eyes lacked the warmth I hoped for. Her gaze was sharp, even impatient. “Sarah, you’ve always been sensible. I don’t need to worry about you.” Her voice was cold. “You have a stable job, good income, you can take care of yourself. Daniel is different. He needs this house.” My eyes burned, throat blocked. I wanted to say something, but my voice choked. “Mrs. Lewis, are you sure about this distribution?” Mr. Lee pushed his glasses up, calm and professional. “Legally, children have equal inheritance rights. Without special reason, this could lead to legal disputes.” Mother’s eyes sharpened. She stared at Mr. Lee, tone unyielding. “This is my decision. Daniel is my son. House and savings go to him. It’s only right.” Daniel stood by, expression complex. He looked at Mother, then at me, wanting to speak but ultimately lowering his head, gripping Mother’s hand. “Mom, don’t say that.” He finally spoke, voice hoarse. “Sarah is your daughter too, I…” “Daniel, say no more.” Mother cut him off, sounding tired. “This is my decision. No one changes it.” My heart sank. Looking at her familiar yet strange face, I realized I never truly entered her heart. No matter how hard I tried, her gaze always rested on Daniel. I thought being excellent would make her see me. Now I knew, some things never change. “Mom, I understand.” I spoke, surprisingly calm. “Don’t worry, I won’t fight for it.” Mother seemed surprised, a flicker of complexity in her eyes. I opened my mouth to speak but just sighed. “Sarah, don’t blame Mom.” Her voice softened, tired and helpless. “Mom just… wants Daniel to live a little better.” I nodded silently. My eyes were hot, but I held back the tears. I had to be strong. Mr. Lee looked at me, then at Mother, and recorded the will. The room was heavy and oppressive, the ticking of machines loud in the silence. “Mrs. Lewis, the will is recorded.” Mr. Lee closed his notebook. “If there are no other requests, I will process the paperwork.” Mother nodded, smiling wearily. “Good. Thank you.” Daniel stood by, joy mixed with complexity on his face. He looked at Mother, then me, wanting to speak. But he just lowered his head and held her hand. “Mom, rest well.” He whispered, choking up. “I’ll stay with you.” Mother’s eyes softened. She patted his hand, smiling with relief. I watched silently. My heart felt stabbed, pain making it hard to breathe. I knew I had lost the last shred of hope. “Mom, I’m going out. Rest well.” I whispered, exhausted. Mother didn’t answer, just nodded slightly. Her gaze remained on Daniel, forgetting my existence. I turned and left the room, closing the door gently. The hallway lights were harsh and cold. I leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath to calm down. 2 Mom, why are you always like this? Daniel is your child, am I not? Why do you always favor him? He gets whatever he wants. And me? I care for you in old age, clean up your mess. Forget inheritance, I don’t even get a kind word! I stood in the hallway, trembling, tears welling up. I wanted to rush in and question her. But I couldn’t… Thinking of Mother in the hospital bed, I felt wronged and confused. I didn’t understand why she always doted on Daniel and was cold to me. I remember when we were kids going to school. Every morning, Mother prepared a hearty breakfast for Daniel, while I ate leftovers. Once, I asked: “Mom, why does Daniel get eggs and milk, and I only get toast?” She didn’t look up. “You’re the older sister, you should yield to your brother. He’s growing, he needs nutrition.” I lowered my head, eating dry toast, feeling wronged. In middle school, my grades were top tier. I thought being excellent would make her look at me. It didn’t. Once, I ran home with a perfect test score to share my joy. “Mom, I got a perfect score!” I said excitedly. She was peeling an apple for Daniel. Without looking up, she said “Mmhmm,” then handed the apple to him. “Danny, eat fruit, it’s good for you.” I stood there, the test paper heavy in my hand. Watching her wipe Daniel’s mouth gently, my heart ached. Since then, I never shared my grades with her. 3 After high school, I got into a top university. I thought leaving home would free me from her bias. But distance didn’t change her coldness. Phone calls were brief and rushed, as if I was irrelevant. Daniel, with bad grades, was always her concern. When he failed his SATs, she pulled strings and spent money to get him into a private college. Knowing this, I felt even more unbalanced. Why did my years of effort mean nothing to her? After graduation, I found a good job and stabilized my life. I thought I finally escaped her shadow. But a phone call shattered my peace. “Sarah, your brother is getting married. We don’t have enough money. Can you help?” Mother’s voice pleaded. I held the phone, bitter. She never called me unless it was about Daniel. “Mom, I have my own life. I can chip in, but I can’t pay for everything.” I tried to sound calm. Silence, then coldness. “You’re the older sister. You should help him. Marriage is a big deal. Don’t be selfish.” My heart felt pricked. Why were Daniel’s needs always first, and my feelings ignored? In the end, I paid $20,000 for the wedding and banquet. But less than a year later, the bride divorced Daniel for being useless and broke. My $20,000 was gone. That was my blood and sweat money, saved dollar by dollar. 4 To care for Mother, I brought her to live with me for ten years. I gave her the best I could. In hard times, my husband and I lived in the basement to rent her a sunny room. But she still complained. I worked harder, often overtime. Coming home late, I’d find her sleepy on the sofa. Nagging: “Always waking me up at night… come home earlier, don’t disturb me…” I apologized profusely. Then ate a quick meal in the kitchen and slept. Work was hard. But eating Mother’s cooking still warmed my heart. It was one of the few times I felt her care. Until a year ago. She fell ill. I rushed to the hospital daily. Smelling disinfectant, I sat on the bench, emotions tangled. Seeing her frail on the bed, I still hurt for her. “Mom, how do you feel?” I asked softly. She opened her eyes, glanced at me, then said flatly: “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” Heartache. Why was she still so cold? Then Daniel rushed in. “Mom! Are you okay? I heard you were sick and came right away!” He rushed to the bed, anxious. Mother smiled instantly. “Danny! You’re here? I’m fine, don’t worry.” I watched her tenderness toward him, heart aching. She patted his hand lovingly, as if he was her only concern. And I stood there, an outsider, my breathing superfluous. I quietly left the room, tears falling in the hallway.

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1 The year I turned seven, my father died in a car crash. My mother remarried her first love and I moved in with them. At our very first dinner as a new family, my stepfather, Richard, announced the new house rules. “From now on, this family operates on a pay-your-own-way basis.” I took a piece of the pot roast. For that one piece of meat, my stepfather demanded three hundred dollars from a seven-year-old. I looked at my stepsister, Ashley, who was happily devouring her own portion. “Ashley had pot roast, too. Why don’t you ask her to pay?” “Because Ashley is my own flesh and blood,” Richard answered. “I love Ashley. She has bloodline privilege.” I glanced at my mother. Richard continued, “Your mother is my wife. I love your mother, so she has privilege, too.” “As for you,” he said, his eyes cold, “we have no blood ties and no emotional foundation. I have no obligation to support you.” To enforce Richard’s pay-as-you-go system, everything in the house was given a price tag. A list was taped to the refrigerator door: Apple: $2.00/each Milk: $1.50/carton Leftovers: $0.75/portion … My mother and Ashley had privilege. They could open the fridge whenever they wanted. I wanted to, but I had no money to pay. “You have no money, yet you expect to eat?” Richard’s voice was a flat line. I mumbled, unsure of what to do. He feigned generosity. “Fine. We’ll put it on your tab for now. You can sign a personal loan agreement with your mother and me.” “Interest will be calculated at a high-risk rate, 0.1% daily, compounded until you turn eighteen. Once you’re an adult and earning money, you can pay us back.” And so it began. I had to pay for every watt of electricity I used. Every grain of rice I ate. I even had to chip in for the vacations my parents took Ashley on… Because of the family’s pay-as-you-go system, I was over eighty thousand dollars in debt before I was even an adult. To minimize my debt, I lived as frugally as possible. I’d even dig through the trash for Ashley’s old, discarded clothes and shoes. Sometimes, I’d beg for food on the streets. But no matter how thrifty I was, I couldn’t avoid everything. That winter, the flu was raging. I got sick. A fever. The thermometer read 103.6 degrees. My body felt like a hot coal. As expected, the first thing my parents did was pull out their ledger and a calculator. After a flurry of calculations, they printed out a new loan contract. “Chloe, we can take you to the hospital. But you need to understand, medical costs are a bottomless pit these days. Registration, blood tests, an IV drip… that’s a thousand bucks, easy.” “And as we’ve agreed, Chloe, household expenses are shared. But personal, unexpected costs, like you getting sick, are your own responsibility.” But I couldn’t pay. So, I signed another loan agreement. … In the end, they didn’t take me to the hospital. Richard said it was too expensive. A waste of resources. Instead, he went to the drugstore downstairs and bought a box of fever reducers and a box of antibiotics. Total cost: five dollars. He walked into my room holding the medicine, my mother trailing behind him. “Chloe, you may not be my flesh and blood, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I paid for this medicine out of my own pocket. With a five-dollar delivery fee, that comes to ten dollars total.” He placed the medicine on my nightstand, then handed me a pen and a piece of paper. “Sign the loan contract first. Once you sign, you can have the medicine.” I was so feverish I could barely open my eyes. “Mom…” I croaked. She turned her face away, muttering, “Just sign it, Chloe. Sign it, take the medicine, and you’ll be fine.” Fighting the waves of sickness, my hand trembled as I scrawled my name on the contract. The second my signature was complete, Ashley’s voice cried out from the kitchen. “Daddy! Mommy! I cut my finger! It hurts so much!” My mother shot up like a spring and sprinted to Ashley in the kitchen. Her voice was laced with panic and pain. “What’s wrong, my sweet baby?” “Oh my god, let Mommy see! Is it bleeding? Honey, let’s go! We have to get her to the hospital for stitches and a tetanus shot! A cut like this can get infected, we can’t take any chances!” Listening to the sound of the car engine starting outside, I lay in bed, tears streaming down my face. I didn’t understand. Why did my 103-degree fever only warrant a ten-dollar box of pills, and only after signing a loan agreement? But a tiny cut on Ashley’s finger got her a free ride to the hospital for a tetanus shot? Ashley, the princess of the household, saw my confusion. She grinned at me. “Because I’m his flesh and blood. Daddy loves me.” “And your mom loves my dad. So by extension, she loves me most of all!” 2 Because Ashley was his flesh and blood, she received the love of both my stepfather and the mother who adored him. I was only my mother’s flesh and blood. So, as I grew older, all I received was a snowballing mountain of debt. I had no time for a social life at school. Even with college entrance exams approaching, I spent my lunch breaks collecting cans, running errands for classmates, and even copying out homework for struggling students in a corner of the playground. Five bucks for a thousand words. But I never expected Ashley to corner me while I was collecting plastic bottles, her friends flanking her. She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. It was the loan agreement I had just signed with my stepfather two days ago. It detailed my request for an advance to buy next month’s supply of pads. “See? I wasn’t lying! It’s all true. Chloe here has to borrow money and sign an IOU just to buy pads.” “My stepsister is barely a teenager and she’s already eighty-five thousand dollars in debt to my family.” “She’s a total leech. Already drowning in debt before she’s even earned a dime. Who knows how she’s wasting money behind our backs.” “It’s all true! If any of you hang out with her, watch your wallets. She’ll probably steal from you!” So, I was just gossip for her and her friends. The other students started whispering. My face burned with shame. Pads. Having something so private broadcasted to a crowd of people… I wished the ground would swallow me whole. My eyes welled with tears as I tried to snatch the paper back. Ashley held it high above her head. Later, she didn’t just show it to the boys, she posted it on the school’s public notice board. “Everyone, come and see the real face of our top-ranked student! What’s the point of getting good grades? She’s a teenager with $85,730 in debt! Rotten to the core!” That afternoon, I became the school’s laughingstock. “The girl who buys pads on credit” became my nickname. My teacher called both me and Ashley into her office. My homeroom teacher was a responsible woman. She furiously reprimanded Ashley for her disrespectful behavior, then called our parents. Richard and my mother both came. Richard was dressed in a sharp suit, looking every bit the cultured gentleman. He apologized to the teacher the moment he walked in. But when the teacher tactfully mentioned the importance of “protecting a young girl’s privacy” and “providing basic necessities,” Richard pushed up his glasses and smiled. “Ma’am, you’ve misunderstood. This is our family’s approach to financial literacy. Chloe has always lacked a sense of money. The pay-as-you-go system, the personal loan contracts… these are all tools I’m using to cultivate her survival skills and independence.” The teacher was left speechless. After we left the office and rounded an empty corner of the hallway, the smiles vanished from my parents’ faces. Richard checked the time on his phone, and my mother immediately understood. She began to scold me. “Chloe, because you caused trouble at school, your father and I had to take an hour off work to deal with it. Your father’s hourly rate is two hundred dollars, mine is one hundred. Add twenty-five for gas, and that’s a total of three hundred and twenty-five dollars.” My mother scribbled down the numbers. “This goes on your tab. You are responsible for the additional cost of our time.” And so, my debt grew larger. On the way home, Ashley happily held my parents’ hands. I trailed behind, alone. Suddenly, Ashley turned around and stuck her tongue out at me with a triumphant grin. 3 At the dinner table that evening, my mother suddenly covered her mouth, let out a retching sound, and ran to the bathroom. Richard froze for a second. Then his eyes lit up, and he dropped his chopsticks. “Sophia!” he rushed to the bathroom door, knocking. “What’s wrong? Are you…?” The suspicion was confirmed at the hospital. My mother, at forty-two, was pregnant. She was pregnant with Richard’s own flesh and blood. She caressed her stomach, a blissful, rosy glow on her face. The arrival of their love child put both of them in a fantastic mood. Richard turned to me. “To ensure the best possible environment for the new family member, we need to reallocate some household resources.” “So, Chloe, your room can be turned into a nursery for your future baby brother.” My heart sank. “Then… where will I live?” Richard tapped the table and pointed towards the balcony. “Your mother and I discussed it. We can enclose that corner of the balcony and put a folding bed there for you.” The balcony? It was drafty in the winter and baked in the summer, with no proper shelter. When I started to cry and protest, my parents’ stance remained firm. Their words, laced with demands for me to be more considerate, were non-negotiable. “With a new baby, we have to tighten our belts. Besides, you’re about to finish your college exams, Chloe. You’re perfectly capable of getting a job like an adult.” “Starting next year, after your exams, you will give up your spot in college and get a job to pay back your debt to us.” No! I had to go to college! My teacher said it was my only way out. I argued, pleading my case. But my mother, her face contorted with anger, slapped me across the face. My parents pulled out the black ledger and a thick stack of loan agreements bearing my name, throwing them on the table in front of me. “Let’s get one thing straight. You are not his flesh and blood. We have no obligation to raise you, especially since you’ve been racking up debt under our system for years! You are a serious loss-making project!” I held my stinging cheek, my gaze fixed on my mother, who was lost in the bliss of her pregnancy. Mom. Don’t you remember? I’m not his flesh and blood. But I am yours. She just looked down, stroking her belly, basking in the happiness of carrying Richard’s child. After a long moment, my resentful stare made her flinch. Finally, as if she’d made a decision, she looked up at me. “Chloe, don’t blame us. Raising a child is expensive. We have to start saving for your brother’s formula and education fund before he’s even born. You’re old enough now. You should be sensible and help the family out. Besides, you already owe us a huge amount of money…” My eyes burned. I stared at my mother in disbelief. I finally understood. In this family, I was nothing more than an outsider in debt. I turned and began to pack my things in silence. 4 My mother’s child, the one that was both hers and Richard’s, wasn’t even born yet. But to show how important this child was, they decided to prepare the nursery in advance. And so, they moved me to the balcony ahead of schedule. On my first night there, my fever returned. It was June, the rainy season. The balcony had windows, but they were leaky, letting in drafts and rain. It felt like a damp, cold cellar. I had to sleep wrapped in two thick blankets. One night, I woke up thirsty and went to the living room for a glass of hot water. On the coffee table sat a half-eaten box of cherries. They were huge, deep crimson, and smelled intoxicatingly sweet. Next to them was a note from Richard. [For my dear wife. These are imported cherries, good for your health. You’re carrying our child, and this is for our baby’s vitamins. Twenty-five dollars a pound. Remember not to let any outsiders eat them.] The outsider, of course, was me. I stared at the cherries, a cold laugh building inside me. Just then, a moan came from the master bedroom. “Water… get me some water…” Richard was on a business trip. Ashley, with exams around the corner, was still out partying at a friend’s house and had decided to stay the night. They were both gone. I pushed open the bedroom door. My pregnant mother was lying in bed, her face pale, her forehead slick with sweat. Because of her age, her pregnancy symptoms were severe. She was having a leg cramp in the middle of the night. She was thirsty and in pain. When she saw it was me, she ordered me around as if it were her right. “Chloe, are you deaf? I’ve been calling for ages. Can’t you see how much pain I’m in? Come here and rub my leg, it’s cramping. It hurts like hell.” I stood by the bed in silence. “Mom, it’s three in the morning.” I looked at her, my voice devoid of warmth. “That’s outside of normal working hours. According to labor laws, night-shift nursing services are charged at double the rate.”

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I am a doctor from the new era of 3028. I know astronomy, geography, and everything in between, earning me the reputation of a “Living Encyclopedia.” Recently, I began researching a time machine capable of traveling to the past. But who knows which wire short-circuited? With a loud BANG, the machine exploded. Just like that, the “Living Encyclopedia” was offline. Permanently. Perhaps my dedication moved the universe, because in that split second, the time machine actually worked. My soul was sucked into the vortex. After a dizzying spin, I opened my eyes. I found myself sitting at a very plain wooden desk, a test paper staring back at me. 1 Did I… travel back in time? I looked around in amazement, marveling at the primitive surroundings. Is this the legendary “examination method” of 21st-century historical figures written in our history books? The name on the test paper read: Liam. Tsk, what a plain, unpretentious name. I roughly scanned the questions on the paper. These questions? In the 31st century, kindergarteners solve harder puzzles than this. But I couldn’t exactly display future-level genius right away. I had to blend in. So, I breezed through the answers but deliberately got a few wrong. After all, I had to live in this body now; it was better to be cautious and not too flashy. This should be foolproof, I thought, nodding with satisfaction. However, when I walked out of the exam hall, I found my classmates’ faces were darker than charcoal. “As expected of the State Math Olympiad. These questions were brutal.” “Hey, did you hear? Even Sarah, the school genius, was crying.” “Yeah, I couldn’t even solve half of them. They say this year’s Olympiad is the hardest in history.” ? This was not what I expected. Students were gathered in groups of twos and threes discussing the trauma. When they saw me approaching, a boy rolled his eyes at me with disdain. Searching the original owner’s memories, I learned his name was Brad. He was a rich kid who loved causing trouble and bullying the weak. The original “Liam” had been his punching bag for years. He looked at me and shouted mockingly, “Yo, isn’t this the class anchor? Since when are you qualified to take the Olympiad?” “Exactly. He probably couldn’t even read the questions. He’s just dragging down our school’s average.” “Honestly, why bother coming to school? You can’t learn anything anyway.” They laughed together. I shrugged indifferently and walked into the classroom. A few days passed, and I successfully adapted to life at school. Today was the day the Math Olympiad results were released. The scores and rankings would be scrolled on the giant screen outside the school, and the top 10 would get a special spot on the Honor Board. 2 As soon as the bell rang, the students shot out like arrows. I followed leisurely behind. Brad’s mocking voice sounded again. “Yo, the anchor is going to check his score?” “Brad, you don’t know? It’s easy for him to check. He just has to look at the very bottom of the list.” The crowd erupted in laughter again. “Tell you what, I’ll help you look.” Brad walked arrogantly to the screen and started searching from the bottom, ready to continue his ridicule. But after searching for a long time, he couldn’t find my name. “Heh, didn’t expect you to guess so many right this time,” he sneered, twitching his mouth in disdain. At this moment, whispers started among the students nearby. “Who is this Liam?” “Yeah, how come I’ve never heard of him?” More and more people were mentioning my name. Brad heard it too. He laughed sarcastically and pointed at me. “Liam? That’s him right there! The dead weight of Class 5. The waste who comes in last every single time.” “You really are a stain on our class. Your embarrassment has reached other classes now.” But the scene Brad expected—everyone laughing at me—didn’t happen. Instead, the surroundings went quiet. Confused, he followed the gazes toward the top of the list. With just one look, he froze. His face turned so dark it looked like it could drip ink. On the Honor Board, in the number one spot, gold letters flashed brilliantly. Liam. Rank: 1. Score: 98. I looked him in the eye and smiled. “Haha, sorry about that. Accidentally got first place.” Brad’s face fluctuated between colors. He gritted his teeth and glared at me. “How could you get first place? You definitely cheated.” Just then, a student ran up to me. “Liam, the teachers are looking for you.” Brad looked like he had just caught me red-handed. “Hmph, I told you! He definitely cheated. Why else would the teachers want him?” “You’re done for. Cheating in our school means immediate expulsion.” I shrugged indifferently and headed to the faculty office. Almost all the school administrators were there. They held my test paper, looking at me in silence. The Principal spoke up. “Liam, tell us the truth. How did you answer this?” 3 I looked at them and said with absolute honesty, “Teachers, I didn’t copy.” “How is it possible you didn’t copy? With your usual level, how could you get first place?” Mr. Henderson, the math teacher, spoke with a sharp, mean tone. His eyes were full of contempt. He often mocked me for my grades and even enabled Brad’s bullying. I looked him calmly in the eye and retorted, “The Olympiad papers were transported under armed guard. There was no possibility of cheating at any stage.” “Unless a teacher leaked the questions to boost their own reputation. I am your student, Mr. Henderson. Are you trying to dirty your own name?” Mr. Henderson didn’t expect the usually submissive Liam to talk back. His face turned liver-red. “Who knows if you copied off another student?” “Mr. Henderson, in my exam hall, was there anyone worth copying from?” I stood there, calm and open, looking at all the teachers and administrators present. “If you don’t believe me, check the surveillance footage.” But these teachers clearly didn’t believe my story. In their eyes, how could a student who usually ranked last suddenly soar to the top? So, they handled it as a disciplinary violation. I was banned from taking exams. Despite the ban, my score made me famous instantly. Because my score wasn’t just first in our school. It crushed the prestigious private academy next door, St. Jude’s, making me number one in the entire city. I broke records and made history. You have to understand, the students at St. Jude’s usually wouldn’t even look at us public school kids. 4 In their words, we were just the people who would end up working for them. To be surpassed by people they looked down on? The students of St. Jude’s couldn’t handle the loss of face. Being young and arrogant, they started clamoring online. They claimed we just got lucky and demanded a face-off to make us “recognize our reality.” At first, our school accepted the challenge confidently. But in the subsequent series of mock exams, St. Jude’s crushed us in every subject. Under the repeated blows, our students became dispirited, like defeated roosters. None of this had anything to do with me, though. Because I was banned from taking exams. This rivalry with St. Jude’s soon reached a climax. In the mid-term exams, our school suffered a total defeat. The scores were humiliating. After school, I saw a group of people gathering at the school gate. They held megaphones, loudly provoking us. The entrance was blocked tight. Their arrogant faces wore expressions of disdain. “Got one first place in a contest and thought your school was something special?” “Let us teach you how to behave. See the gap between us clearly.” Repeated failures had disheartened my classmates. For a moment, no one dared to speak up. Everyone shrank back like quails. Seeing our fear, they became even more unbridled, shouting arrogantly: “Yo, doesn’t your school have a genius named Liam?” “What, is he scared? Why hasn’t he taken the last few exams?” “Thought he was some peerless genius, turns out he’s just a coward.”

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My “white lotus” aunt played the victim, forcing my mother out, thinking she could marry into wealth. But I, with wide, innocent eyes, asked my grandmother: “Aunt Chloe said I’m a ‘money-loser’ and she’ll give me a little brother to be my ‘backer.’ Grandma, what does ‘money-loser’ mean?” Grandma’s face darkened instantly: “It means a fool like her who destroys other people’s families.” “You are not a money-loser; you are Grandma’s precious treasure.” I leaned into Grandma’s arms, a slow smile curving my lips. In my past life, she exploited my softness and youth. After marrying my father, she conspired with her lover to boil me alive in a cauldron. This time, let’s see what she has to fight me with. 1 From the moment I was born, Grandma designated me as the sole heir to the Feng family fortune. Even my father was instructed to return the company to me when I turned eighteen. This was because my maternal grandmother and Grandma were childhood best friends. My maternal grandmother even sacrificed her life to save Grandma. To repay this debt, Grandma demanded my father marry my mother. But my father, wild and free-spirited, broke my mother’s heart. Disappointed in her son, Grandma decided to leave everything to me. After my mother left, my father finally came to his senses, but he could never find her again. To make up for the maternal love I lost, my father invited my mother’s “good sister,” Aunt Chloe, into our home. Aunt Chloe treated me extremely well, always caring for me. When kids bullied me for having no mother, she scolded them fiercely, demanding they apologize. Young and starved for motherly love, I was deeply moved. I even begged my father to let Aunt Chloe be my mother. For my sake, my father agreed. Privately, he demanded Aunt Chloe undergo sterilization, ensuring I would be his only child. She agreed on the surface but faked a medical report claiming she was naturally infertile. She then tried everything to seduce my father. Until I caught her taking folic acid. Aunt Chloe cried to me: “Auntie has a stomachache and needs medicine to get better. Can you keep this secret from Daddy and Grandma?” I nodded, but later overheard her phone call with a man: “That brat saw me taking folic acid. We need to get rid of her immediately.” “A money-loser dares to compete with the son in my belly for the inheritance? Delusional!” Shocked, I tried to run but was pushed off the third-floor balcony. I survived but suffered brain damage, becoming intellectually disabled. To avoid blame, she pretended to fall while trying to save me, bleeding profusely. She cried, claiming she didn’t know she was pregnant and that losing the baby hurt less than failing to save me. My father, blind to her schemes, believed her. Only Grandma suspected something was wrong and wanted to take me abroad for treatment. But Chloe whispered to me that Grandma was an old witch who wanted to eat me to extend her own life. 2 Young and brain-damaged, I couldn’t distinguish truth from lies. I screamed in terror whenever I saw Grandma. Seeing this, Chloe knelt before my father: “I am willing to care for Jane for the rest of my life. I will even have another child to be Jane’s crutch, to care for her forever.” Tearfully, she offered to sign a prenup renouncing all claims to the property. Chloe was a master of disguise, treating me well for years. But two years after giving birth to a son, she tricked me into going abroad under the guise of visiting a spa. There, she and her lover boiled me alive. I was cooked until my flesh separated from my bones, unrecognizable. Grandma died of a heart attack upon hearing the news. My father investigated, but Chloe had covered her tracks. It wasn’t until my father declared he would donate all his assets to charity upon his death that she revealed her true colors, attempting to kill him. But my father was prepared. He tortured her to death, avenging me. Watching my father surrender to the police, I cried uncontrollably. I thought that was the end, but I opened my eyes to find myself back before it all happened. Grandma’s voice was icy: “You claimed to love Jane and would care for her forever, yet now she lies in the hospital, life uncertain! You must give me an explanation!” The familiar voice made me tremble. I opened my eyes to see Chloe kneeling before Grandma, weeping: “Madam, it’s all my fault. I was negligent. I didn’t know I was pregnant. I felt dizzy and missed the chance to grab Jane.” “I don’t dare ask for forgiveness, but please let me see Jane again.” Grandma looked at her impatiently: “Jane survived a great disaster. Why should a jinx like you see her?” “Didn’t you claim you couldn’t get pregnant? How did you conceive now? Is it some wild seed?” The scene awakened my memories. This was the day Chloe pushed me off the balcony. Originally, Grandma wanted to banish Chloe abroad. But when I woke up, remembering only her kindness, I cried and screamed for Aunt Chloe. Remembering what followed, I looked at Grandma with innocent, confused eyes: “Who are you?” Chloe tensed upon hearing me speak, fearing I’d reveal the truth. But realizing my vacant stare and stutter, a bold idea formed in her mind. She squeezed out tears and rushed to my bed: “Jane! It’s me! I’m your Aunt Chloe, don’t you remember?” I looked at her puzzled, silent. 3 Just as Chloe breathed a sigh of relief, I spoke clearly: “Of course I remember you—” Chloe froze, trembling, forcing a bitter smile. Grandma glared at her, then turned to me gently: “Jane, the window is so high. Do you remember how you fell?” Sweat beaded on Chloe’s forehead; she shook like a leaf. I pretended to think, and just as Chloe was about to bolt, I said: “I don’t remember. I only know Aunt Chloe tried hard to catch me. I saw her fall and bleed. Boohoo, will Aunt Chloe die?” Chloe relaxed instantly, crying fake tears: “Even if I die for Jane, it doesn’t matter. I only wish for Jane’s health and happiness.” In my past life, I only cared about Chloe and screamed at Grandma to go away. Grandma was hurt but hid in the shadows for my sake. This time, I didn’t hurt Grandma. Instead, I hugged her tightly. Watching Chloe’s performance, I scoffed internally. Exposing her directly was too boring. Lifting her high only to let her fall hard was the cruelest punishment. I wanted to see who was the better player. My father, negotiating a billion-dollar deal abroad, finally arrived by private jet. Seeing me lying weak in bed, he turned furiously to Chloe: “I just left this morning. How did Jane get hurt like this in less than five hours?” Chloe clutched her stomach, feigning weakness: “It was my negligence. I felt dizzy when I reached out to save Jane.” She looked at my father expectantly, hoping he’d ask about her dizziness. 4 But my father frowned deeply: “You said you were capable of caring for Jane, so I let you live in the villa. Now you can’t even hold a five-year-old? Should Jane take care of you instead?” Chloe looked hurt: “Listen to me, the doctor said I’m pre—” My father raised his hand, glaring at her: “You swore if Jane was hurt a little, you’d be hurt ten times more.” Chloe turned pale: “Listen to m—Ah!” Before she could finish, my father’s female secretary slapped her to the ground. Chloe was shocked: “Why did you hit me?!” She looked pitifully at my father, but he ignored her. His eyes were only on me, red with heartache. The secretary, who had secretly loved my father for ten years, had long wanted to deal with Chloe. This was clearly my father’s order. Slap after slap rained down on Chloe until her beautiful face was swollen. Sharp nails left cat-like scratches. My father glanced coldly at Chloe: “This is a lesson. Next time, you won’t need to stay in this world.” Chloe trembled, remembering my father was a dominant figure in the gray zone. She seemed to be the only woman close to him, but she was just a high-class nanny for me. Hurting me was her biggest failure. My father checked my bruises and sighed in relief, unaware I had become a “fool.” Chloe thought the slaps were punishment for my injury, unaware it was just an appetizer.

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The imposter who stole my life tried to kill herself again, bringing my engagement party to a screeching halt. I was done. Utterly exhausted. I set a metaphorical fire to that grand ballroom and vanished without a trace. Five years passed before the Hawthorne family saw my face again, in an interview printed in a national magazine. My former brother, Julian, made an international call. “Vivian. So you’re not dead after all.” I said nothing. A cold snort came through the line. “The Matriarch’s funeral is in a week. Whether you show up is your business.” After he hung up, my husband, Marcus, must have noticed the look on my face. He walked over, our daughter in his arms. “I can take Coco to the summer camp. You should go back. After all… that woman did help you once.” The truth was, I had no expectations for that family anymore. But she was the only one in that house who had ever shown me a shred of kindness. I nodded, not arguing. The next day, I boarded a flight back to the country I’d left behind. Five years. It was time to go back and settle the old scores, one by one. 1 The Hawthorne estate loomed before me. It was the same as it was five years ago. Grand, imposing, cold. I suppressed the turmoil in my chest and raised a hand to the doorbell. But the door swung open from the inside. Our housekeeper, Maria, saw me and froze. The garbage bag in her hand dropped to the ground with a thud. “Miss Vivian! You… you’re really alive!” Her eyes instantly reddened. When I first returned to the Hawthorne family, I was an outcast, ostracized by everyone. Maria was the only one who looked after me, taking care of my meals and daily needs. “It’s good that you’re back, but Mrs. Hawthorne, she…” Maria wiped a tear from her eye, trailing off. She stepped aside. “Miss, please, come in.” “I heard you were working abroad to support yourself… it must have been so hard. Now that you’re back, you should talk to the young master. You can live a comfortable life, just like Miss Claire. Don’t let things get as bad as they did five years ago…” “You’re still brother and sister, after all. Mr. Hawthorne… he does care about you…” Her eyes were filled with pity. As if I were still the same pathetic creature who used to cry and beg for a scrap of affection from the Hawthorne family. But she didn’t know. I wasn’t that Vivian anymore. I stood my ground, not moving a muscle. “I won’t come in, Maria. Where are her ashes? The old house, or the cemetery?” Maria was stunned. “But Mr. Hawthorne is inside, waiting for you…” Then I wanted to go in even less. Back then, when things were at their worst, my dear brother had thrown me out of the house into a raging storm. “Vivian, you are not worthy of stepping through this door, and you are certainly not worthy of being a Hawthorne! My sister is not some raving lunatic!” “I would rather my sister had been Claire from the very beginning!” I understood then. In Julian Hawthorne’s eyes, I was a nuisance, a stain he was ashamed to acknowledge. I shook my head, unwilling to argue. I was about to ask Maria to just tell me where the ashes were when a low, familiar male voice cut through the air. “Maria doesn’t know where she was laid to rest. If you want to know, Vivian, you’ll have to ask me.” 2 I turned. Julian stood at the end of the corridor, dressed in a sharp suit, his gaze heavy as he watched me. I was taken aback, unable to decipher the emotion in his eyes before he turned and walked toward the living room. Maria nudged me forward, her face alight with pleasure. “Go on, Miss Vivian!” “The young master cleared his entire schedule today, just to wait for you.” I frowned but didn’t want to make things difficult for Maria. Besides, it seemed the answer I needed was one only he could provide. I lowered my gaze and followed him inside. Julian was sitting on the sofa. Seeing me finally enter, a faint smirk played on his lips. He pushed a cup of lukewarm ginger tea toward me. “Flew in overnight? You must have motion sickness again. Drink this, it’ll help.” The sharp, sweet scent hit my nose. For a moment, I was transported back in time. I hadn’t had this in years. The year I was brought back to the Hawthornes, it was Julian who personally came to get me. From a small village to the sprawling capital. A flight of several hours. For a girl who had never been on a plane, it was torture. But I’d heard the villagers say a single plane ticket to the city cost more than a family’s entire harvest for a year. I didn’t dare complain. I just clenched my teeth and endured. When we landed, I threw up until I was dizzy. I still remember Julian frowning, though he said nothing. But after that, whenever we traveled, this man who had been coddled his whole life always chose the train. If a flight was unavoidable, he would always have a cup of ginger tea ready for me. But then, because of Claire, our relationship deteriorated to an icy standoff. The tea, naturally, never appeared again. I snapped back to the present and gently pushed the cup back. “Thank you, but no.” My voice was calm. “I don’t get motion sickness anymore. And I don’t like the taste.” These past few years, I’d been busy building my career, flying all over the world. I’d long since overcome that minor discomfort. Julian’s pupils contracted sharply, the corners of his eyes turning red. After a long moment, he managed a quiet, “Oh.” Silence fell between us. I couldn’t understand why he’d insisted I come in, only to say nothing. My patience wore thin. “Mr. Hawthorne, if you can’t remember where you put Grandmother’s ashes, please don’t waste both our time.” As I stood to leave, Julian shot to his feet. “Vivi, you…” “Is that you, brother? Are you back?” Before he could finish, a sweet, lilting voice interrupted from the garden. A figure in a white dress darted past the floor-to-ceiling windows. My gaze locked onto her. It was her. The person who had occupied my identity for so many years, the darling of the family. Claire Hawthorne. 3 Claire ran to the edge of the garden, her back to the glass doors, seemingly unaware of us in the living room. The breeze lifted the hem of her dress, revealing a gently rounded belly. Was she… pregnant? As I stood there, stunned, an anxious male voice followed her. “Claire, my dear sister, would you please stop running? Do you even remember you’re pregnant?” A handsome young man rushed to her side, carefully shielding her stomach as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Claire pouted, her tone playful. “Oh, stop it. I’m not made of glass. You all forbid me from doing this and that every day. Are you trying to suffocate me? Leo, do you even respect me as your older sister anymore?” “Alright, alright, I can’t win with you.” Leo shook his head, a helpless smile on his face. He turned, and his gaze swept into the living room, crashing into mine. He froze, the smile wiped clean from his face. His eyes were wide, and for a long moment, he simply stared, completely ignoring Claire’s chatter beside him. He was the boy I had grown up with, the little brother who had followed me around for over a decade, crying “sister.” Seeing him so suddenly, even I was stunned for a second. Before Leo could react, Claire, who had also spotted me, offered a soft smile. “Sister, you’re really back! You have no idea how happy I was when Julian told me you were safe!” “You’ve been out of touch for years. He was worried sick! It’s good that you’re back. But please, don’t be so selfish next time, just disappearing without a word. Not only did you suffer abroad, but you broke everyone’s hearts here!” My gaze shifted to Claire. I studied her for a moment, then smiled. “You look so well. My absence these past five years must have been very good for you.” Claire’s eyes immediately reddened. She clutched Julian’s sleeve. “Brother, look at her! She’s just returned, and she’s already talking to me like this, refusing to be civil…” Julian frowned, but for the first time, he didn’t immediately leap to Claire’s defense and scold me. Claire opened her mouth, about to add more fuel to the fire. Just then, Leo, who had been frozen in place, suddenly snapped back to reality. He strode forward and grabbed my shoulders. “You’ve been living abroad all by yourself these years?” His throat bobbed. “Are you… okay? Was it hard?” 4 I sidestepped his touch. “I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you, Mr. Shen. I’ve been doing wonderfully.” Leo flinched as if my words had burned him. He retracted his hands, looking lost. A faint blush crept into his eyes. Five years ago, at my engagement party, he had flipped a table and pointed at me, his eyes, once filled with adoration and reliance, now blazing with hatred. “Vivian, if anything happens to Claire, I will never forgive you for the rest of my life! A cold-hearted, selfish woman like you deserves to rot! You don’t deserve happiness!” Those were his exact words. So why now was he asking if I was okay? Not that I cared. I turned my head, refusing to look at him. “Sis…” Leo’s eyes were red as he stepped forward, looking like he wanted to say more. But just then, Claire clutched her stomach, her face contorted in pain. “Leo, my stomach hurts…” “Claire!” Leo’s attention was instantly diverted. He spun around, shouting for Maria to call the family doctor. He half-carried Claire, and they quickly disappeared up the staircase. I found myself staring at the second floor. Julian walked over to me. “You’re not mistaken. Claire is pregnant. The baby… it’s Ashton’s.” My fingers twitched. He paused, then changed the subject. “When you ran out on the wedding, the Cunninghams didn’t pursue the matter, but it was a great loss of face for them. It was a marriage alliance, after all. Having Claire marry him in your place was a way to settle things.” “Besides, you were gone for so many years. The Cunninghams wouldn’t let Ashton wait that long, especially not for a woman who had made them a laughingstock.” Even after all this time, even though my heart was a placid lake, I couldn’t help but laugh coldly at his twisted version of the truth. “Really? A man marrying his fiancée’s sister right after she leaves? Wouldn’t that be an even bigger joke?” I met his gaze, my eyes like ice. “And are you getting forgetful in your old age, Mr. Hawthorne, or are you just playing dumb?” “Do I really need to remind you why Vivian Hawthorne ran away from her own wedding?” The color drained from the man’s face, leaving it as white as a sheet. 5 The cemetery. I followed the signs to the memorial hall. The staff told me that the Matriarch’s urn would be kept here until after the funeral service. The sandalwood box sat on a shelf, simple and solitary, much like the woman herself. Though I called her Grandmother, we weren’t related by blood. She was my grandfather’s second wife, more than twenty years his junior. In fact, she wasn’t much older than my own parents. Her humble origins and awkward age made her an outcast in a family like the Hawthornes, who valued lineage above all else. She never fought for acceptance. Frail and unable to bear children, she simply lived her quiet life as Mrs. Hawthorne. The Matriarch lived a life of quiet conformity, so much so that she almost left no trace. The only rebellious thing she ever did was help me escape the Hawthorne family five years ago. The smoke from the incense curled upwards, blurring my vision. My mind drifted back to that day. Claire had, once again, staged a suicide attempt at my engagement party with Ashton. But that time, I didn’t let her antics stop the ceremony. I called an ambulance and insisted the engagement continue. My own brother, Leo, the boy I had protected my whole life, stared at me as if I were his mortal enemy. “Why do you have to provoke her? You’ve already gotten the man Claire loves. What more could you possibly want?” My older brother, Julian, looked at me with profound disappointment. “Vivian, you’re being so unreasonable. Must you insist on holding the engagement now and making everyone look bad?” My fiancé, Ashton, said nothing. He simply scooped Claire into his arms and walked out of the party, never once looking back at me. The shocked stares of the guests bored into me. A tidal wave of humiliation and rage washed over me. My ears were ringing. When I came to my senses, I had snatched a cake knife from a waiter and was chasing after them like a madwoman. But a thin, frail figure blocked my path. It was the Matriarch. She was so fragile, she usually spoke in a whisper, but that day, she held me with an iron grip. I struggled, and she raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face. “Pathetic!” Her voice was quiet, but it struck me like thunder. “Is a man who can’t make up his mind, who wavers between two women, really worth you debasing yourself like this?” “The women of the Hawthorne family are not weak. Your own grandmother was a trailblazer, a true heroine. Vivian, where is your pride! By demeaning yourself like this, are you not shaming the memory of your parents, who died trying to bring you home?” My cheek stung, my eyes burned. “Grandmother…” “Don’t call me that!” she snapped. She pressed a cold, hard card into my palm and gave me a forceful shove. “Go. And don’t come back.” I stumbled, catching my balance. When I looked up again, she had already turned away, her thin back ramrod straight. Later, I used that money—three hundred thousand dollars—to build a new life in a foreign country. And later still, I found a family of my own. The incense burned down to ash. I bowed deeply. “Grandmother, forgive me for not listening. I came back.” “I’m doing well now. I have a husband who loves me and a beautiful daughter. You can rest easy.” I had only returned to quietly close this chapter, to repay that kindness. But the ghosts of my past refused to grant me peace, appearing one after another. As I left the memorial hall, I ran into him. Ashton Cunningham. The boy who was once my childhood sweetheart, my former fiancé. And now, my sister’s husband. 6 “Vivian!” Ashton got out of a black Bentley, blocking my path. He was out of breath, his hair messy, as if he had rushed here the moment he heard the news. “Vivian, you’re really back! I’ve been looking for you all these years.” He stared at me, his eyes filled with a desperate, lingering affection. I didn’t break my stride, merely glancing at him. “Mr. Cunningham,” I said, my tone a polite reminder, “according to social etiquette, now that you’ve married my sister, you should be calling me ‘sister-in-law’.” Ashton froze, his lips pressed into a thin, tight line. “We survived the hardest times together, relying on each other for over a decade. Are you saying you’ve just… forgotten all of that?” I stopped and met his pained gaze. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Ashton, weren’t you the one sleeping with Claire behind my back? Do you really think you have the right to talk to me about our past?” Ashton and I… we really were childhood sweethearts who had supported each other through thick and thin. I had taken a knife for him from a gang of thugs; he had beaten up the bullies who made fun of me. We shared a single scarf in the winter and split a popsicle in the summer. I still remember that summer night when I was seventeen. The stars were incredibly bright. So were Ashton’s eyes. “As soon as we get to college, I’ll get a job. I’m going to buy you a big house!” “Okay,” I’d giggled. “I want one with a balcony, so I can plant flowers.” To save up for our college tuition, I took an under-the-table job at a restaurant. My hands were always pale and wrinkled from the water, but as I counted the crumpled bills late at night, my eyes shone with hope. Then, just before our final exams, the Cunninghams came. Ashton was the long-lost heir to the wealthy Cunningham family of the capital. He was luckier than me. There was no replacement for him at the Cunningham estate. The day he left, he cried, holding my hands. “Vivian, wait for me.” But I waited and waited. My college acceptance letter arrived, but he never did. The next time we met was at the party celebrating my return to the Hawthorne family. I was the newly discovered eldest daughter of the Hawthornes. And he was the new boyfriend of the second daughter.

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