Category: English

I was voted “Ugliest Girl in Class.” Unanimously. My deskmate sneered, “She’s just a clown.” But they didn’t know I had bound a “Roast Me” System. Every time someone insulted me, I got $5,000. So far, I’ve been roasted for 964 days and saved up $14.8 million. Every day, I applied foundation three shades too dark, wore hideous glasses, and drew fake freckles all over my face. Until the City Dance Company came for auditions, demanding every girl remove her makeup and perform bare-faced. The class beauty smirked, “Ugly people should know their place. Maybe you should just sit this one out!” Only I knew— My breathtaking beauty could no longer be hidden. 1 It was the eve of the SATs. The boys in my class made a “Girl Appearance Rating Chart.” Amidst their winks and nudges, I deservedly scored a 2. A 2 basically meant “Godzilla in a skirt.” My deskmate snatched the chart away, mocking me: “With those buck teeth and that dark skin, you’re ugly inside and out. If I hadn’t lost a bet, who would want to sit next to you!” Last month, I was dragged into a cheating scandal. My test paper was identical to the class beauty, Bella’s—from punctuation to numerical answers. Even though I sat in front of her. Even though my grades were better than hers. But Bella wrinkled her delicate nose, her big doe eyes filled with tears. She looked exactly like that viral transformation influencer, “Winter.” The boys, whose average math score was probably 20, screamed that I copied her. However, Bella couldn’t tell the difference between $\beta$ and B. In the end, the math teacher cleared my name based on that alone. But rumors about me started multiplying. Before, I was invisible. Now, I was “Ugly Girl,” “Godzilla,” “Disgusting Rat”… Sometimes, I’d get locked in a bathroom stall and drenched with dirty water. Sometimes, just walking past the AP Science class would trigger rumors that I was stalking some random guy, desperate for his attention. Seventeen, eighteen-year-olds. Especially in a liberal arts class. Their ability to fabricate rumors was elite. They were one step away from saying I was pregnant with someone’s alien baby. The attacks were so vicious even Twitter would’ve banned them. An ordinary person might have collapsed… But I was calm. Today, my deskmate handed me another “Ugly Girl Ranking.” “Congrats, Jane. First place again.” A pyramid chart of ugliness. A candid photo of me was printed at the top, crossed out with a big red X. He sarcastically told the girl in front of us, “She’s just a clown. Not surprising she’s number one.” Bella giggled, trembling like a flower in the breeze. I stared at the photo, lost in thought. ________________________________________ 2 I have a secret. At sixteen, I bound a special system. The “Roast Me” System. Because I fainted on the first day of school, I missed orientation. By the time I returned, the title “Ugly Girl” had spread through the entire grade. Bella and her “Makeup Squad” spread rumors across the whole school. “Jane? I went to middle school with her. I heard she never takes off her hat or mask… Hee hee, probably too ugly to show her face.” Her simps laughed along. “Right? My Bella is the campus goddess. That ugly freak was just lucky to be in the same school. Can’t believe she followed you to high school, shameless!” Ten years ago, the rumors would’ve been about me liking the bad boy or the jock. But now, the vibe had shifted. They decided spreading rumors about me liking Bella fit the current aesthetic better. After all, lesbians were at the bottom of the social food chain in our class. Looked down upon. But this was a “blessing in disguise.” On the first day of school, I stared blankly as my system account balance jumped by $20,000. For someone who couldn’t afford lunch, this was a fortune. I counted. I’d been insulted four times. Just four sentences, and I made $20,000! So naturally… I accepted it with open arms. Being scolded doesn’t make me lose a pound of flesh. I’m mentally tough; I don’t care about their petty bullying. Besides, the SATs were three months away. I was consistently top three in the class. Afterward, they’d go work in factories or fast food, and they wouldn’t matter to me. So. High schoolers wake up at 6 AM. I woke up at 4 AM. Thirty minutes of vocab, one hour of practice tests. Then thirty minutes for special effects makeup. “Ugly Girl FX Makeup.” Because of the stereotype Bella created, no one ever looked at me closely. I fooled them for 964 days. The balance in my bank account was terrifyingly high. I swam in an ocean of money every day, forgetting the insults. Let them scold me. Does it hurt? This wasn’t toxic trolls spewing hate; it was a golden toad spitting coins! Every day. Every moment. As long as I breathed, I was making money. ________________________________________ 3 First mock exam. My name hung high on the honor roll. The only person above me was the school heartthrob, Liam. He was the son of a school board member, a violin prodigy who could’ve gotten into Juilliard easily. But Liam refused to live in his parents’ shadow. He wanted to get into college on his own merit. And he was succeeding. For a long time, Liam was number one. Until I stopped worrying about money and quit my part-time jobs. I used that time to study. Liam and I traded first place back and forth. I glanced at the cutoff scores and walked away. As long as I hit the score for my dream school, being first didn’t matter. But Liam found me during break. “Jane, Liam is looking for you,” Bella said, eyes burning with jealousy. I walked out under her gaze, hearing the system chime: [+$5,000]. Insulting me in her head again~ In the hallway, Liam was waiting. His white shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing toned forearms. Gold-rimmed glasses perched on his high nose. He looked like a refined villain. Seeing me, he frowned. “Jane, why didn’t you do the last question?” The last big question? I recalled. I had seen that type of question several times before, so I was too lazy to solve it again. I have a quirk: if I see a difficult problem three times, I won’t do it again. Not wanting to lie, I told the truth. “Too lazy.” Unexpectedly, he frowned deeper and grabbed my wrist. “I can understand your poor morals, but how can you lie about an exam?” “The last question…” He lifted his head arrogantly, light glinting off his glasses. “I calculated for twenty minutes to solve it. I should be the only one in the school who got it.” “You couldn’t do it. No need to lie.” “Yeah, yeah,” my deskmate chimed in. “Jane just wants to save face.” Fine. I was speechless. I suddenly understood the loneliness of genius. Just as I opened my mouth to defend myself, Bella rushed in. “The City Dance Company is here for auditions!” ________________________________________ 4 Bella’s delicate face was flushed with excitement. “This is special admission! If you get in, you get a tenure-track job and perform with Winter!” Winter. The city’s most famous piano artist. Performed in Vienna at 7, world-renowned by 14, exploded in popularity at 18 on a music show. At 20, he returned as a celebrated artist. Because he had a face like a CGI model, he was plagued by stalker fans. Annoyed, he moved back to our hometown for peace. This unconventional choice shocked everyone. But it gave him the quiet he wanted. Bella clutched the flyer tightly, face red. “That’s Winter… How many girls dream of playing with him? Even if I’m just a background dancer, I’d be willing!” A girl nearby reached out. “Bella, let me see the flyer!” My deskmate slapped her hand away. “Stop dreaming, toad. Can’t you see Bella has it? Only she has a chance. You ugly girls wanting to be on stage with Winter? Hilarious.” Bella lifted her chin proudly, as if victory was hers. “If you want signed photos later, just ask. I have that much pull.” My deskmate bowed and scraped. “Yes, Sister Bella. Don’t forget us when you’re famous.” Suddenly, Bella seemed to notice me. “Jane, you’re here too.” She smiled, braids framing her face, looking gentle and kind. “Do you want to go? The flyer says every girl in school has to audition. If you want to go, you can sign up with me.” Before I could speak, my deskmate jumped in. “Huh? Her?” He sneered. “The Dance Company is looking for dancers, not gargoyles to ward off evil spirits. Jane shouldn’t go and embarrass us!” Bella smiled sweetly. “True, people should know their limits. Maybe Jane shouldn’t go on stage. What if Winter is there? We don’t want to scare him.” I treated their words like farts. I opened another practice test, ignoring them. But Liam suddenly asked me. “Jane, do you want to go?” “No.” I answered without looking up. My pen scratched across the paper. “Why?” “I have problems to solve.”

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It was my eighteenth birthday party, my official coming-of-age. And my cousin, Trevor, handed me a half-scratched lottery ticket as a gift. A cheap joke. Until I actually won twenty dollars. Then, he suddenly offered me forty thousand dollars to buy the ticket back. The absurdity—the sheer, bizarre leap from a $20 win to a $40,000 offer—made my stomach clench. It felt wrong, utterly grotesque, and I refused. Trevor went ballistic. He screamed obscenities, cursed me to hell, and in front of every guest we’d invited, he shoved me off the balcony of our high-rise apartment. Dozens of people were there. My own mother and father stood watching. They all silently approved, chiming in with the chorus of curses that proclaimed I deserved to die. I opened my eyes again. Thirty minutes before. Trevor stood before me, his smile a cruel, familiar twist, holding out that half-scratched ticket. The words were the same, too. 1 “Sierra, don’t call me cheap, okay? This baby is worth two hundred thousand dollars!” “I scratched half of it myself—just to eliminate half the wrong options for you. Whatever you win is all yours, little cousin.” I automatically reached out for the card, but the moment my fingers brushed the cheap, shiny paper, I snatched my hand back as if burned. I looked up at the wall clock: 11:00 p.m. Exactly thirty minutes before I died. No one knew I was back. Tonight was supposed to be my eighteenth birthday celebration, the dinner party where Mom and Dad hosted all our relatives. Trevor, the cousin who never missed a chance to look down on me, had come, and he’d used a half-scratched lottery ticket to publicly humiliate me. Last time, I’d been mortified. The surrounding relatives, smiling placatingly, had encouraged me to scratch it off. “We’re family, sweetie. Just do it.” Trapped in that raw, humiliating spotlight, I’d scratched it off. A measly twenty dollars. And then Trevor, who had been waiting for the punchline at my expense, had suddenly surged forward, his eyes burning. He offered $40,000 cash on the spot. I’d always been cautious, a habit reinforced by all the college fraud warnings. Trevor despised me; the sudden, massive overpayment for a $20 ticket screamed trap. I’d flat-out refused. That’s when he’d snapped. “Bitch.” “Jerk-off.” “Ingrate.” Every poisonous word he could spit. He screamed that if I didn’t give him the scratcher, he’d kill me. He pushed me backward, hard, until I was stumbling against the window. I’d screamed for help, but the same relatives who’d been all smiles and “family” moments before had faces twisted with pure malice. Even my parents had joined the chant: I deserved it. He’d finally shoved me out. I died on the pavement below. Until the moment I hit the ground, I didn’t understand what I had done to deserve that. Maybe it was a cruel joke, or perhaps the universe took pity on me. I was back. I acted immediately, cutting him off with a bright, tight smile. “No need, Trevor. You should keep that two hundred thousand dollar value all for yourself.” Trevor’s smug expression curdled instantly. “Sierra, you are truly ungrateful. You think you’ve hit adulthood and grown wings, so you don’t have to show respect to your cousin anymore?” My mother, Elaine, quickly scooped the ticket up off the floor. “Sierra! Are you insane? You don’t turn down money!” We’d never had the financial standing of Trevor’s family, and since Trevor had a high-paying finance job in the city, my parents always deferred to him. They felt perpetually inferior. The other relatives chimed in, their voices a practiced chorus. “Sierra, just take your cousin’s generous gift. Scratch it now. Who knows, maybe you really will win that two hundred thousand dollar jackpot!” I wanted to refuse again, but my eyes locked with Trevor’s—icy and calculating. What if a firm refusal landed me back over that railing? I took the ticket. “I’ll scratch it later, at home,” I said, trying to sound casual. “We’ve all come together for my birthday, Trevor. It would be rude to hold up the party with a silly game.” He leaned in, his voice dangerously low. “Don’t insult me, Sierra. If you don’t like my gift, just say it. Don’t you dare shame me by calling it a ‘delay.’” Trevor’s mother, Aunt Lisa, yanked him back, shooting me a hateful glare. “So dramatic. Take it or leave it, brat.” Trevor’s father, Uncle Mark, lit a cigarette, a mocking chuckle escaping his lips. “Got into college, now she thinks she’s somebody, huh?” That single sound sent a wave of panic through my parents. They instantly redirected their fear and shame onto me. “Sierra! Who taught you to be so materialistic and spoiled? Your cousin is being generous, and you’re making excuses?!” I tried to object, but Mom grabbed my hand, pressing the ticket hard against the tabletop. She used her own fingernail to viciously scrape the surface. My nail plate tore, and a bead of blood welled up, but Mom didn’t even flinch. Her eyes were glued to the winning number area. Suddenly, she shrieked excitedly. “It’s a winner! Twenty dollars!” A cold, heavy rock settled in my chest. In my peripheral vision, I saw all eyes snap to me. Trevor slammed his palm on the table and lunged across the dinner setting, his gaze fixed on the hand I was instinctively tucking into my pocket. “Damn it! It really is a winner!” The next second, he spoke the exact words that had started the chain reaction last time. “Sierra, I’ll give you forty thousand dollars. Sell me that scratcher.” I held the small ticket tightly in my fist and smiled at him. It was a cold, empty smile. “Trevor, Mom must have misread it. Why would I ever have the luck to win the lottery?” Trevor wasn’t an idiot. Offering $40,000 for a $20 ticket meant something massive was wrong. I could take the money, but if he regretted it, I knew he wouldn’t hesitate to kill me for a second time. I absolutely could not give him this ticket. “No win?” He didn’t believe me. He reached out a demanding hand. “Let me see it.” A spike of panic hit me, but I steadied myself and calmly pulled a ticket from my other pocket, handing it over. Trevor snatched it and scrutinized it. He flipped it, scratched areas he’d missed, and finally, confirming it was a complete loss, he let out a frustrated shout. He threw the ticket on the ground and ground it under his heel. He shot a venomous glance at my mother. “Aunt Elaine, you seriously need to get your eyes checked.” Mom flinched, not daring to speak. The other relatives quickly bent down, jostling each other to pick up the ticket, then sighed in a dramatic, pitying unison. I quietly let out the breath I’d been holding. Thank God I hadn’t washed these jeans. About two weeks ago, I’d bought a losing scratcher on a whim and shoved it in my pocket. It had just saved my life. But my relief was short-lived. My younger sister, Piper, spoke up, her voice sharp and eager. “Wait, Sierra. Didn’t you buy one downstairs earlier today? You didn’t mix them up, did you?” My mother’s eyes lit up with renewed fury. She rushed at me, gripping my arm until her nails dug into my skin. “Sierra! Did you hide the winning ticket?! I knew I didn’t see it wrong! Hand it over, now!” Trevor, feeling manipulated and robbed, returned, his hand whipping out and connecting with my cheek in a stinging slap. “You little tramp! You think you can play games with me? Give me the real ticket, or I swear I’ll beat it out of you!” “I told you, it didn’t win!” I cried. “Why would I lie?” Piper added, “But I didn’t see you throw anything away!” Just then, my father, Robert, who had been silent, stepped in front of me. I thought he was going to protect me. Instead, he struck me across the other side of my face. I collapsed to the floor. He leaned over me, screaming. “You wicked girl! Hand that ticket over to your cousin right now! If you mess this up, I’ll personally destroy you!” A tidal wave of black despair washed over me. My mother sneered, rolling up her sleeves as she approached. “Just wait. I’ll search her pockets myself. If I have to, I’ll strip her down to nothing. She’ll talk then.” I screamed, “Mom! Dad! Are you insane? You’re turning my eighteenth birthday into a nightmare over a stupid scratcher!” Trevor kicked my side. “Sierra, if you keep this up, forget your birthday. I’ll make sure you lose that scholarship and never step foot inside that college you worked so hard for.” I looked at my parents, incredulous. They met my gaze with cold, contemptuous smiles. “Sierra, we don’t have money. Your cousin’s family is paying your way through college. You want to go? You do what Trevor says!” Before I could fight back, several relatives grabbed me, pinning me facedown across the dinner table. In front of everyone, my mother tore at my clothes, desperately searching for a second ticket. Shame flooded every nerve ending in my body. Tears streamed down my face. After fifteen minutes of invasive, degrading searching, they found nothing. Mom threw me away from the table, spinning around to slap Piper across the face. “You stupid girl! Say one more lie and I’ll sew your mouth shut!” Piper clutched her red cheek, her eyes blazing with hatred—aimed not at my mother, but at me. Trevor just stood there, staring, his eyes unreadable. The party was a disaster. On the day I was supposed to celebrate a new chapter, I was subjected to the greatest humiliation of my life over a slip of paper. I couldn’t stay in that house for another second. Just after midnight, I quietly slipped out and made my way to Liam’s apartment. Liam, the boy next door, my best friend since kindergarten. The moment he opened the door, he pulled me into a fierce hug, his voice thick with concern. “I wanted to go to your place, but they said you were busy. Then Piper told me what happened. Sierra, you didn’t deserve that.” I broke down. All the raw, accumulated trauma of the day—the murder, the rebirth, the betrayal, the shame—poured out in tears. Liam held me, soothing me, even offering to go find Trevor and fight him. “No, don’t,” I pleaded, holding him back. “Don’t be reckless. I still don’t know why Trevor did any of that. If we move too fast, we might fall right into his trap.” Liam was silent for a moment. Then he asked, his voice soft, “Sierra, was the ticket you gave them… the real one?” Looking up into his gentle, familiar eyes, I almost told him everything. After all, Liam hadn’t been present when they murdered me. But as I opened my mouth, I caught a flash in his gaze—a sharp, desperate eagerness. My throat tightened. It felt like an invisible hand was squeezing my windpipe, and every alarm bell in my brain screamed: Do not tell him! Liam nudged me for an answer. I feigned annoyance. “They searched me until they nearly stripped me naked! Even if I had superpowers, I couldn’t hide anything after that.” The truth was, the winning ticket was taped under a serving platter back at the house. When Mom had screamed about the $20 win, I’d quickly swapped the real ticket for the old, losing one in my pocket and shoved the real one under the platter while everyone was focused on the cash value. Seeing Liam’s continued skepticism, I forced myself to sound indignant. “Do you think I’m an idiot? Would I hide a twenty-dollar ticket and turn down forty thousand dollars?!” Liam stroked my hair, a look of manufactured affection in his eyes. “Of course not. My Sierra isn’t stupid.” My heart hammered against my ribs. I had to know what was going on. “But Liam, what do you think made that scratcher so special? Why was Trevor so desperate for it?” He shrugged, his tone dismissive. “It’s just a lottery ticket. What’s the big deal? Maybe he just went crazy and used it as an excuse to mess with you, you know? He’s always hated you being smarter.” Trevor definitely resented my grades and my college acceptance. But not enough to kill me over a $20 prize. The questions piled up inside me, stealing my appetite. Liam took me back to his place. “You can stay here tonight, safe. Tomorrow, I’ll go with you and talk some sense into your Mom and Dad.” I tossed and turned that night, unable to sleep. Sometime after 3 a.m., I heard the distinct click of the doorknob turning. My heart seized. A burglar? But then I realized we were twenty-six floors up. A burglar was impossible. Only one person could be entering. It was Liam. Sure enough, Liam tiptoed to the bedside. He whispered my name once. When I didn’t respond, he started meticulously going through my discarded clothes. I heard him muttering to himself. “Where is it? Is it really gone?” Then, louder, a voice filled with rage I’d never heard from him. “Damn it, I drugged her for that ticket! I have to find it tonight!”

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My roommate has a hemorrhoid the size of Texas. The weird part? Any gas that passes through it comes out smelling like fresh strawberries. Since this massive hemorrhoid was ruining her life, I kindly suggested she get surgery to remove it. After some hesitation, she agreed. But later, she found out by accident that the campus heartthrob is obsessed with strawberries. Furious, she burped milky bubbles while holding my head underwater. “If you hadn’t meddled in my business, the guy I love would have fallen for me!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the moment before I convinced her to get the surgery. Seeing her still revelling in her strawberry-scented farts, I decided to let nature take its course and watch that hemorrhoid grow. 1 “Do you guys smell that? It smells like strawberries in here.” As soon as Bella walked into the room, she took a deep breath and shouted. In my past life, I was caught off guard and started sniffing the air with her. Who would have thought it was Chloe’s fart! Unexpectedly, I was reborn back to this very moment. Damn it, the rebirth was too sudden; I didn’t have time to prepare a mask! I instinctively lowered my head and held my breath, silently vowing to run downstairs to the convenience store for strategic supplies ASAP. Seeing none of us respond, Bella felt a bit awkward talking to herself. She scratched her head and pressed on, unwilling to give up. “Wait, seriously, you guys don’t smell it? The strawberry scent is super strong.” “Chloe, Zara, Sophie, why are you all silent? Is one of you secretly eating strawberries behind my back? Hurry up and share a couple with me, and I’ll forgive you. Otherwise, I’m gonna get mad.” “Weirdo.” Sophie rolled her eyes without looking up. Chloe, on the other hand, blushed, nervously twisting her skirt hem, and whined softly. “Bella, no one is secretly eating strawberries. I just ate a bit too much for lunch and couldn’t hold back a fart.” “My farts… just smell like strawberries.” As soon as she finished speaking. Bella’s face froze, turning green and then pale. After processing it, she screamed. “You mean to say, I just took a huge whiff of your fart?” “Chloe, if you didn’t want to share strawberries, fine, but you didn’t have to be so gross!” 2 What Bella didn’t know was that Chloe had a unique condition. She had a magical hemorrhoid. Any gas passing through that hemorrhoid turned into the scent of strawberries. So Chloe always smelled like strawberries. The bigger the hemorrhoid grew, the stronger the scent. In my past life, after learning this secret, our roommates didn’t say anything to her face but created a group chat to roast Chloe daily. “So gross, how can she act all cute with that going on?” “Because of her, I never want to see a strawberry again.” “God, why do guys fall for her? She’s gross and messy. What do they see in her?” “Exactly. If she hadn’t given me that La Mer set yesterday, I wouldn’t even talk to her.” I couldn’t stand their two-faced behavior—taking her gifts and then stabbing her in the back. It just so happened that Chloe was addicted to fried and spicy foods, which irritated her hemorrhoid, making it grow worse. It got to the point where she walked funny and couldn’t sit for long periods. After much thought, I couldn’t help but advise her to get surgery. After some struggle, Chloe agreed. The surgery was successful. Soon, she bid farewell to the strawberry farts, her walk returned to normal, and she looked stunning in a white dress. Since she no longer needed her roommates to keep her secret, Chloe stopped giving them gifts. Without the gossip and freebies, the roommates started sowing discord out of spite. “Chloe, your trademark was that strawberry scent. Without it, you seem kind of plain.” Even Liam, the campus heartthrob who had shown interest in her, went official with someone else on Instagram. “Even my favorite strawberry scent is gone. What’s left to like about you?” In a rage, Chloe, hiccuping milky sobs, lured me to the pond. I went unsuspecting, only for her to push me underwater. “It’s all your fault.” “If you hadn’t been a busybody, Liam would be with me right now!” Then I opened my eyes, reborn. 3 This time around, I naturally wouldn’t be a busybody. I just watched coldly as Bella and Chloe bickered. Sophie pretended to be fair, mediating the argument. “Alright, Bella, Chloe didn’t do it on purpose. Just let it go. It’s not like she forced you to smell her fart, right?” Bella and Sophie had some underlying tension. Seeing Sophie side with Chloe, Bella stomped her foot and looked at me with aggrieved eyes. But I wouldn’t be stupid enough to stick my neck out for her like in my past life, only to earn Chloe’s hatred later. Lowering my eyes, I joined Sophie in persuading Bella. “Yeah, Bella. Chloe said it was just a fart. No need to hold onto it, right? I trust Chloe isn’t the type to hoard strawberries and not share.” “Besides, no one can control their farts. At least Chloe’s farts smell like strawberries. Better than stinky ones.” Hearing this, Chloe looked at me with gratitude, her eyes filled with misunderstood grievance and dependence. In my past life, seeing that look would have softened my heart, making me think it wasn’t her fault and willing to fight for her. But now, that look only churned my stomach, reminding me of the suffocating, cold, muddy water filling my nose at the bottom of the pond. “Exactly, Bella. Zara and Sophie are right.” Chloe immediately found support, her voice sweet and a bit smug. “I didn’t mean to. Plus… strawberry scent is nice, way better than some people…” She glanced meaningfully at Bella, leaving the sentence unfinished, but the implication was clear. Bella’s face turned green with anger. She covered her nose, pointed at Chloe speechless, stomped her foot in rage, and slammed the door as she stormed out. 4 The three of us were left in the dorm. The strawberry scent had mostly dissipated. Sophie, clearly in a good mood from seeing Bella get owned, smirked and started scrolling on her phone. Chloe, like a proud little peacock, walked to her desk and sat down, carefully adjusting her posture—the hemorrhoid was obviously uncomfortable. She skillfully pulled a bag of chips and a can of Coke from her drawer. With a pop of the tab, she began to eat and drink with satisfaction. Although Chloe was sweet and had a great figure, she loved junk food—spicy, fried, ice-cold. Normally fine, but these were fertilizers for her hemorrhoid’s wild growth. In my past life, seeing Chloe binge like this, I would have worriedly reminded her: “Chloe, eat less of that stuff. It’s bad for… down there.” And she would always whine back: “Just a little bit~” This time? I looked away, opened my laptop, and pretended not to see. Sophie was confused: “Chloe, didn’t you just eat? Why are you eating again?” Before Chloe could feel awkward, I thoughtfully explained for her: “Oh, it doesn’t matter, Sophie. Our Chloe can eat whatever and not gain weight or get acne. It’s a gift others can only envy! We have the money, so eat if you want. Happiness is what matters.” My tone was incredibly sincere. Chloe agreed repeatedly: “Exactly! Only Zara understands me.” The greasy smell of chips mixed with the sugary scent of Coke filled the air. Faintly, a strawberry aroma began to brew. I silently left the room, heading to the supermarket to buy masks. 5 When I returned. Chloe looked at me with concern: “Zara, why are you wearing a mask? Are you sick?” “Yeah, a bit of a cold. Don’t want to infect you guys.” I vaguely changed the subject, shaking the shopping bag in my hand, containing several boxes of masks and a bottle of strong air freshener. “By the way, I heard on the way back that Liam is preparing for grad school exams.” As soon as I said that, Chloe’s eyes lit up, forgetting to chew her chips. Sophie also looked up from her phone screen with interest. I knew they would react this way. Liam was our campus heartthrob, ridiculously handsome. Not only did countless girls have a crush on him, but anyone who passed him by would remember him. After all, in my past life, my dear roommate Chloe killed me for him. Since you like Liam so much, I’ll give you a hand in this life. Sneering internally, I pretended to say casually: “Heard he’s basically living at the library lately. Every day from 1 PM to 9 PM closing. Sigh, handsome and smart, he’s got it all.” “Which floor does he usually go to?” Chloe asked immediately. “I think… the third floor?” I recalled the gossip from my past life. “The seats by the window have good light; he seems to like sitting there.” Chloe’s eyes glazed over, her face flushing slightly, clearly planning her “chance encounter.” Sophie tutted, smiling ambiguously. She turned and messaged me to roast Chloe. “A freak like Chloe who farts strawberries thinks she can bag the heartthrob? Campus belle? More like a joke.” But Sophie, you don’t understand. The heartthrob really loves it! The strawberry scent!

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I was the female side character diagnosed with a terminal illness. Before I died, I asked the tyrannical CEO, “When is the heroine’s next ovulation day?” The CEO roared in fury, “What? You still want to harm her?” I shook my head and explained: “No, I just want to reincarnate as your daughter in my next life and torture you to death!” 1 On the day I died, the male lead, Julian Ji, whom I had hopelessly chased for 10 years, stood by my bedside. He held a bouquet of blooming red roses. “Do you like them?” he asked. I nodded. Julian waved the flowers in front of me, then tossed them into the trash can. With a despicable smirk, he said, “I’d rather throw them away than give them to you.” My mouth twitched. I was speechless, but I decided to ignore him and deliver my final line: “In this life, I have ultimately… wasted my love on the wrong person!!” After finishing my heart-wrenching performance, I closed my eyes peacefully. Unexpectedly, instead of the notification sound signaling my exit from this world, I felt a sharp prick on my butt. “Ah—” I opened my eyes in pain, only to meet Julian’s face full of disdain and contempt. He crossed his arms lazily and instructed the doctor: “Don’t let her die. Inject as much adrenaline as you can. Also, unplug the oxygen mask; it’s a waste of money. For such a vicious woman who has done so much evil, she shouldn’t die easily. Torture her severely. Make her life a living hell!” “?” The doctor gave me a sympathetic glance and raised the syringe, ready to stab my butt again. “Hold the needle!” I stopped him. Then I spat at Julian: “Treating a dying person like this… you will get your karma!” “Lily Lin, you’re stubborn till the end. Even at death’s door, your mouth is tough.” Julian lit a cigarette and shamelessly blew smoke in my face, making me cough violently from the secondhand smoke. “Cough, cough—” Seeing that I could barely speak, a wave of grievance washed over me. Fine! Julian, you forced me! I grabbed Julian’s clothes and asked with a ferocious expression: “Tell me, how many days until Sarah’s follicle matures, migrates to the ovarian surface, protrudes outward, thins the cell wall, and finally ruptures to release the follicular fluid?” Julian didn’t understand. He frowned, confused: “What?” I gritted my teeth in anger, hating this uncultured, nouveau riche CEO. No choice. I had to ask bluntly: “What date is Sarah’s next ovulation day?” Julian roared, “What? You still want to harm her?” I sneered, “You don’t truly love her. You can’t even remember this. A man who can’t remember a woman’s physiological cycle isn’t a good man!” “Bullshit, who says I don’t remember!” Julian pulled out his phone. Hard to imagine, but he actually had a period tracking app on his phone. It accurately predicted the user’s ovulation day, period, and fertile window. Julian looked at it and muttered unconsciously: “So it’s the 19th of this month…” Realizing he had slipped up, he started venting his anger on me again. “You poisonous woman, did you come up with some shady scheme to drive a wedge between Sarah and me? I tell you, no way!” I shook my head and explained: “No, I just want to reincarnate as your daughter in my next life and torture you to death!” “Alright, off to reincarnate now.” With that, I happily breathed my last. My main goal was not to dawdle. Not to cause trouble for the medical staff. In the last second before my consciousness faded, I heard Julian roar in panic: “No—don’t let her die! Shock her! Shock her back to life!” 2 After death, I floated in the air, watching Julian work overtime until 2 AM every night. The reason? Sarah wanted to start their baby-making project. Julian watched the calendar inch closer to the 19th, the stubble on his chin growing thicker. Finally. On the night of the 19th, Sarah sneaked into the office to catch her Julian and forced herself on him. Confronted with scenes unsuitable for children, I chose to see no evil, hear no evil. Finally. Ten minutes later, I waited for that final moment. Julian looked up and screamed: “No—” And I swiftly turned into a white light and rushed towards them: “Charge—” 3 When I regained consciousness, I was already a tiny life form. Although I couldn’t see or move, I could hear voices from the outside world: “Hubby, good news, I’m pregnant!” This delicate, Lolita-like voice was 100% Sarah, the heroine of this world. But next came Julian’s terrified and trembling voice: “No, we can’t keep this child.” “Why?” Sarah’s voice instantly turned cold. Julian thought for a moment, lowering his voice as if afraid I would hear: “I consulted a master. A child conceived on the 19th is a lone star of evil, the reincarnation of a wicked landlord. Born, it will only be a demon child. Can’t keep it, can’t keep it.” “Be good, let’s wait a few years!” Sarah sneered: “What excuses are you making?” “I think you’re mourning. Your childhood sweetheart sister Lily died, and you’re heartbroken. You want to mourn her for three years and can’t have happy events, right?” Julian quickly defended himself: “Babe, what nonsense are you talking about? I never liked her. I was happy she died.” “Okay, okay, we’ll keep it, we’ll keep it.” At 2 AM that night. I heard Julian, still awake, seemingly kowtowing to Sarah’s belly: “Please, as long as it’s not Lily, be it Red Boy or the Bull Demon King, I’m fine with it.” “Worst case, even a lazy sheep is acceptable.” Then he started talking to himself, doing psychological counseling: “No, it can’t be that coincidental that she successfully reincarnated here. Coincidence, it’s all a coincidence.” “Amitabha, Buddha bless me…” … A few months later. Julian took Sarah for a prenatal checkup. Sarah said she wanted a daughter. The doctor smiled gently and said: “Well, maybe your dream will come true.” The atmosphere was quite lively. Until Julian screamed. “She!! She gave me a peace sign!” Sarah and the doctor looked at him like he was retarded. Julian, a grown man of 6’2″, was trembling in front of the ultrasound machine. “That… the child my wife is carrying… just now, in the image, gave me a peace sign…” He tried to explain to everyone. But who would believe such absurd words? The doctor smiled and smoothed things over: “Oh, the husband is just too excited. Although a six-month-old fetus has hands and feet, they can’t make a peace sign.” Inside Sarah’s belly, I almost laughed myself silly. Yes, I just flashed a peace sign. Just to scare the crap out of this jerk. After returning home from the checkup. I heard Julian brainwashing himself again: “No way, no way… even if it’s a daughter, it’s not necessarily her. Julian Ji, don’t scare yourself. Relax, God won’t be that hard on you.” 4 The day I was born was probably the most desperate day for Julian. I heard the nurse ask Sarah several times: “Where’s your husband?” Sarah said: “He might have pre-fatherhood phobia. He went to the bathroom 30 times in an hour.” Too bad. Even if Julian blew up the toilet, I had to be born. “Wah wah—” With my loud cry as I came into the world. The nurse happily handed me to Julian: “Congratulations, Mr. Ji, your wife gave birth to a daughter.” I cautiously opened one eye to look at Julian. Julian looked panicked. Like he was having a seizure, he grabbed the nurse and asked: “Nurse, do you think this child looks like me and my wife?” The nurse paused. She stammered: “Looks like… very much like…” Julian breathed a sigh of relief, finally showing a smile on his face: “That’s good, that’s good.” I almost laughed out loud. Did the nurse dare say I didn’t look like them? Julian put me back in the crib and wheeled the still-sleeping Sarah back to the private ward. While gently patting my back, he sighed: “Haha, my luck is so good.” “Lily, you failed after all! Hahaha, hahahaha—” While the nurses were out processing the birth certificate. I opened my eyes and flashed Julian a 45-degree smile. In a milky voice, I said: “Grandson, Daddy is here for revenge!” The smile froze on Julian’s face. Mechanically, frame by frame, he slowly turned his head to look at me: “What. Did. You. Say.” Because I was just born and my speech was a bit slurred, I repeated with a lisp: “Son, I am your fader—” Before I could finish. Julian stood up, his trembling hands reaching for my neck: “Lily Lin! You little brat, now I am your father!” “Believe it or not, I’ll strangle you!” I stuck out my tongue: “Do it, do it now!” Julian actually started doing it, not afraid of breaking my weak and fragile throat. I started wailing directly: “Wah wah ah wah wah wah—” The more I cried, the harder Julian squeezed. In the end, I didn’t even have the strength to make a sound. I didn’t need a mirror to guess that my pink and jade-like little face had already been turned black and blue by this dog of a man. “Hehe, die!” Julian prepared to increase the force again. At the critical moment, Sarah suddenly woke up. I don’t know where she got the strength, but she got up from the bed and kicked Julian straight on: “If you break my sister’s wings, I will destroy your entire heaven.” Me: “?” Julian: “?”

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Six years after the Forrester family had coerced me into divorcing my husband to make room for their preferred, real daughter, I saw them. Liam Prescott, my ex-husband, and my brother, Grant Forrester, walking straight toward me across the wide lawn of the city park. Liam held our seven-year-old daughter, Phoebe, while he looked at the quick, stylized sketch I was working on. He shed the sharp edges he’d once possessed, sat on the small stool in front of my easel, and scanned the twenty dollars I charged for a sitting. “Since you’re back in the States, why didn’t you reach out?” He looked genuinely exhausted, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His eyes, framed by his thin glasses, landed on me with a desolate, unmistakable sense of regret. “I never meant to drive you away, Anya.” I held my palette, my voice flat. “Sir, what style of caricature are you looking for?” 1 I treated them like strangers. But my brother, Grant, was as aggressively volatile as ever. He kicked my easel over, his eyes burning with familiar contempt. “Stop pretending you don’t know us. Sera has already forgiven you for… that mess with her scholarship and your miscarriage.” He spat the word out like poison. “Now, she’s being dragged into a scandal about an affair, and it could wreck her Gold Prize nomination. Come back with us, clear her name, and we’ll allow you back in the house.” “You haven’t seen your daughter in six years. Don’t tell me you don’t miss her.” “After all, you knelt outside our estate for ninety-nine days just to fight for custody, didn’t you?” He stood over me, triumphant. But my daughter had already forgotten how to call me Mommy. Her eyes fell on the loosely wrapped bandage around my wrist, and her face twisted in childish disgust. “Daddy, Uncle Grant, her hands are gross.” “Sera Auntie’s hands are way prettier.” I remembered the sound of the bone cracking—the intentional, brutal shattering of my hand. I tightened my jaw and wrapped the bandage back into a tight cuff. “I won’t go back, and I won’t clear anything up for you.” “I gave up on my daughter a long time ago.” The days I’d spent swallowing blood and tears with every bite of food—they were long buried. Liam’s gaze lingered on the scars hidden beneath the bandage. He took a step forward, as if to touch me. “All right, Anya. Stop throwing this tantrum.” “Don’t say things like you don’t want your daughter. She’s the baby you carried for ten months.” A bitter, familiar taste filled my mouth. What did ten months matter? It never stacked up against Sera’s sweet, calculated whispers. Grant’s brows knitted together. He kicked the small tin I used as a tip jar, his voice laced with impatience. “Why waste time talking to her? Just take her. If we weren’t worried about the press dragging Sera through the mud, who would willingly come to this dump?” “It’s filthy.” The deep-seated arrogance of the wealthy Forrester heir was still palpable. I bent down to pick up the tip jar, which had rolled into a patch of muddy earth. My voice remained flat. “I’m not coming with you.” That was all it took for Grant to ignite like a firecracker, the explosion a painful echo in my chest. “Anya Wells, don’t push your luck! Do you have some back-alley dog-boyfriend here you can’t leave? You can barely make a few bucks a day. I don’t believe you can live like this—you’re probably running some kind of dirty hustle to get by.” At the accusation, Liam’s initially soft expression turned dark. He seemed to agree with my brother. He grabbed my wrist with one hand and began to drag me toward the park exit. A sharp, spreading pain flared across my skin. The tip jar tumbled to the ground again, scattering ten and fifty dollar bills. “Liam, let go of me! I am not going back!” He ignored me completely. Grant strode ahead, deliberately stepping on the paper money, grinding the bills into the dirt. A flash of orange fur burst from the flower bushes. Hiss! The stray cat I fed, Rusty, clawed at Liam’s arm. Seizing the chance, I yanked my arm free. But as I turned, Grant’s foot slammed into my knee. I collapsed with a loud thud, hitting the dirt road. On one side, I was down. On the other, the little cat was sent flying several feet. I struggled to get up, large tears splashing onto the ground. “Rusty!” I managed a single step before both Liam and Grant cornered me and dragged me toward the SUV. My struggles were pointless. The stray cat lay in a pool of blood. The money I’d saved to buy my grave plot was smeared in the mud. It felt exactly like six years ago. I was shoved into the back seat of the familiar SUV. My daughter, Phoebe, strapped into her safety seat, immediately began to wail when she saw me. “Daddy, I don’t want to sit next to this ugly monster! She smells!” Liam glanced into the rearview mirror, putting on a show of scolding her. “Phoebe, that’s not polite. That’s your mother.” Phoebe wrinkled her nose and huffed. She spoke just loud enough for all of us to hear: “She is not my mom. Only Sera Auntie deserves to be my mom.” Grant scoffed with derision. Liam tightened his grip on the steering wheel and attempted to explain. “Phoebe just isn’t used to you, Anya. She’ll warm up.” I turned my head to look out the window, my tone detached. “It’s fine. I was never her mother. Wasn’t that exactly what you told me?” Six years ago, also in this car, when Phoebe was barely a toddler, Liam had said it directly to my face. “Anya Wells, do you honestly think you’re fit to be a mother in your current state?” “Phoebe is a child, she doesn’t understand. If she wants to call Sera ‘Mom,’ let her. Do you have to make a scene in front of her?” Liam’s furious expression flashed in my mind. We drove the rest of the way in silence. The house I had once meticulously decorated was unrecognizable. The delicate Honeysuckle bushes I had planted in the garden were gone, replaced by rows of aggressive red roses. The swing beneath the old oak tree was removed, and the tree itself had been cut down. Everything was changed, a scene of desolation. I looked around with cold indifference and lowered my eyes. I followed them inside. Liam opened a small door in a forgotten corner. The room was thick with dust, and cobwebs lined the ceiling. He covered his mouth and coughed, waving away the dust motes floating in the air. “Your old room is Sera’s music studio now. Just manage here for a while.” “In a few weeks, once all this is sorted…” I cut him off. “It’s fine. I don’t need anything else.” My only true destination was to be a handful of ashes. The condition of the room made no difference to me. Grant hated my aloof composure, as if it implied they had all wronged me. He rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Liam, let her stay here. It’s been years, and her dramatic act still hasn’t worn off.” Liam sighed heavily but didn’t contradict him. “Stay if you want to.” I simply hummed in acknowledgement and closed the door. I couldn’t decipher the look in Liam’s eyes. He was the one who drove me out of the country, wasn’t he? Why the show of guilt now? I stopped trying to understand. Slumping onto the narrow twin bed, a sudden, brutal wave of pain crashed over me. My face went white, and cold sweat soaked the pillow. Knock. Knock. The sound jarred me awake. I forced myself to open the door. Grant stood there, holding a thin, cheap throw blanket. “Who are you trying to play the victim for with that ghastly look?” he blurted out when he saw my pale face. He tossed the blanket at my feet. “Here. Don’t get sick and then blame it on Sera.” “I’m warning you, don’t try anything funny, and don’t go near Sera. You know exactly why we brought you back.” The familiar words of threat washed over me. I had heard this warning countless times. From initial defiance, I had become numb. I knew how to respond now. “Got it.” I slammed the door shut. I lay back down, the blanket remaining on the floor. A person who was about to die had no reason to fear a cold. In the morning, a pounding on the door woke me. “Miss Wells, are you awake? Do you still think you’re the princess of the house?” The stiff wooden bed and unfamiliar room meant I hadn’t slept well. “I’m awake.” I opened the door to see the familiar, frigid face of Mrs. Olsen, the nanny. Her expression was one of ingrained disgust. “Then get to the dining room. Don’t hold up everyone just for you.” Six years hadn’t softened her. Mrs. Olsen had always cared for Sera like a daughter, viewing me as an intruder. When I was first found, she’d once thrown dishwater on me, convinced I should have stayed lost and never come back to take Sera’s place. I didn’t have the energy to argue. The pain from my cancer was relentless. Every breath felt like shattered glass. In the dining room, Sera was seated between Liam and Phoebe. She was blushing prettily as Liam fed her a piece of his sandwich. “Liam, darling.” She saw me and her eyes darted away in a brief moment of panic. “Sister, you’re back. Are you mad at me? I was forced to marry Liam, I really thought…” Screech! The sound of my chair scraping against the floor was painfully loud. “Not at all. You said you two were ‘soulmates,’ didn’t you? Why would I be mad?” Sera’s eyes immediately welled up. Liam slammed his cutlery onto the table, his face clouding over. “Anya Wells, if you don’t want to eat, then don’t.” I allowed myself a cold, mocking smile. I sat down, ignoring them all. I took a bite of a sandwich, and the sweet, cloying taste of the mayonnaise and tomato sauce made my stomach churn violently. I pushed the chair away abruptly and rushed to the restroom, where I dry-heaved over the toilet. “Sister, do you think… she could be pregnant?” Sera’s suggestive voice drifted in from behind me. I splashed icy water on my face, letting the shock ripple through me. She was still a master of twisting the narrative. She ruined my hand because she was jealous of my talent. Now she wanted to ruin my reputation by suggesting I was pregnant out of wedlock. Her methods were transparent, but people believed her. Sure enough, upon hearing Sera’s words, Liam frowned, a hint of repulsion in his eyes. “Anya Wells, a woman should maintain some decorum.” A bitter laugh caught in my throat. Decorum? Did that word even apply to me? Where was their sense of decorum when they threw me to the wolves that night? “It has nothing to do with you.” Liam scoffed angrily, throwing out a single word before leaving. “Fine.” I returned to the table and sat back down. “Sister, now that you’re back, why don’t you perform with me at my concert in a few days?” Sera looked at me expectantly. “We used to be called the Duet Stars.” I froze, my gaze falling on the hands perpetually wrapped in bandages. These hands would never hold a violin again. Before I could hide the fleeting look of despair, Phoebe’s clear voice rang out. “Sera Auntie, this ugly monster doesn’t deserve to play with you. I saw her hand last time—it’s super gross.” The innocent voice felt like a needle in my heart. “Yes, I can’t play anymore.” My voice trembled slightly. No one knew the breakdown I had suffered when I realized my hand was permanently ruined. I had wanted to die right then. But I remembered the words of Mama Elena, the director of my old orphanage. “Everyone dies, sooner or later. But if you can come home for a peaceful rest, then you’ll be reborn into a happy family.” I believed her. I wanted a family that truly loved me. I washed endless stacks of dishes until I earned enough for a ticket home. Back in the States, I worked as a street artist. I had my eye on a beautiful spot beneath an old Magnolia tree for my grave. I was just five hundred dollars short. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Sister. I… I completely forgot.” Sera’s apologetic voice registered in my ear. “It’s fine, Sera. You don’t need to apologize. Her inability to play is her own doing.” Liam’s cold words followed. My heart was so scarred that any harsh word, no matter how cruel, was absorbed without reaction. “Stay here and keep to yourself for the next few days. I’ll come for you when we need you.” Liam gave me a final threat. “And behave. You don’t want to see St. Jude’s torn down, do you?” The name of my old orphanage made my chest clench. Liam still knew exactly where to twist the knife. “Understood.”

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1 My CEO husband’s secretary, Bunny, always referred to herself in the third person. During a billion-dollar negotiation, she took our key client to a filthy street food stall. The oil was black, the meat was turning bad, and the client got severe food poisoning on the spot. Bunny just giggled and stuck her tongue out at me. “Oopsie! Bunny thinks she messed up Sister’s wittle project. But Bunny twied her best, so she’s still the bestest, wight?” My husband, Caleb, rushed to comfort her. “It’s fine. Consider it practice for Bunny.” He dismissed me with a look. “Even if you’d landed this deal, your dying company wouldn’t last another year. Just let it go bankrupt.” “And before you do,” he added, “don’t forget Bunny’s bonus—a hundred or two hundred thousand for her help.” No wonder he was so calm. He thought it was my company’s project that failed. I smiled and nodded. After all, the company about to collapse wasn’t mine. … Seeing me agree so readily, Caleb stared at me for a long moment, surprised. Finally, he let out a condescending chuckle. “You know, Serena, your problem is you’re incredibly petty.” “Even though you’re agreeing, I know you’re fuming inside. It’s that kind of small-minded, short-sighted attitude that’s holding you back from ever achieving anything great.” Bunny pouted beside him, a taunting smile in her wide, stupid eyes. “Huh? Bunny doesn’t understand.” “Caleb-waleb, why are you being mean to Sister? She didn’t say she was unhappy.” Caleb snorted. “You think I don’t know her? She’s a master of saying one thing and meaning another.” Bunny hid behind Caleb, her voice a petulant whine. “So you’re a bad woman! You lied to Bunny!” I watched their little duet with a deadpan expression. No matter what I did, Caleb always found a reason to be dissatisfied. He glared at me, his voice a command. “How could you lie to someone as kind and innocent as Bunny? Do you have a conscience?” “Make her bonus five hundred thousand! As compensation. Not a penny less, you hear me?” I almost burst out laughing. It was ridiculous. This was a sure-thing deal we had secured long ago; today’s lunch was just a formality before signing the contracts. And Bunny’s moronic stunt had flushed it all down the toilet. She’d cost the company hundreds of millions in losses—enough bad debt to bankrupt a smaller firm. And for that, she was getting a reward? Fine. It was Caleb’s company. If he wasn’t worried, why should I be? I nodded eagerly and immediately had my assistant draw up the bonus application for Bunny. I held the tablet out to Caleb. “Mr. Thorne, I just need your signature for approval.” He frowned. “It’s your company’s money. Why do I need to sign?” I lied without blinking. “Even though it’s my company, it’s technically our joint marital property. Five hundred thousand is no small sum. Of course, I need your approval.” As Caleb’s brow furrowed in suspicion, Bunny started tugging at his sleeve. With half a million dollars dangling in front of her, her eyes were practically bugging out of her head. “Caleb-waleb, are you done yet? Let’s go eat.” “Bunny barely ate anything taking care of the client. My tummy hurts from being so hungry.” Instantly, all of Caleb’s attention was back on her. He scribbled his signature without a second look. Then, with an arm around Bunny’s shoulders, he shoved me aside. I wasn’t angry at all. I took a moment to admire Caleb’s flourishing signature on the document. Caleb had always been a hands-off CEO who knew nothing about the business. When he saw my company doing well, he’d dumped his own failing enterprise on me. He called it “an opportunity to develop my skills.” When I took over, his company was an empty, dilapidated shell. After a year of back-breaking work, I finally found this one golden opportunity that could make it soar. And his precious Bunny had ruined it all in a single afternoon. I hoped Caleb would be just as carefree when he realized it was his company on the verge of bankruptcy. I took the signed e-document straight to his company’s finance department. The accountant’s face went pale as she processed the transfer. The company had sunk nearly all of its liquid capital into this deal. Another half-million out the door would cripple its basic operations. But what did that have to do with me? After tying up the loose ends, I headed back to the hospital. Outside, I received a text from Bunny. “Good girl. Glad you knew to send the money.” “Bitch, is your company going bankrupt now that the deal is dead? Congrats!” She was in for a disappointment. I was going to save the deal, of course. It just wouldn’t be under Caleb’s name. I pushed open the door to the private room. “Mr. Sterling, I am so sorry about what happened today.” Mr. Sterling looked displeased, but not with me. “You don’t need to blame yourself. Honestly, if you hadn’t brokered this, I never would have considered giving the project to Caleb Thorne in the first place.” “Serena, do you understand what I’m saying?” My eyes flickered. I quickly changed the subject. “Mr. Sterling, to express my sincere apology, I’ve arranged a VIP suite for you. Please rest and recover. From now on, I will personally oversee every aspect of our collaboration.” I put special emphasis on the word “our.” Mr. Sterling nodded, satisfied. By the time I returned to my own office with the newly signed contract, Caleb and Bunny were already there. Bunny tossed a hotel key card onto my desk with a smirk. “I heard your company is in trouble, so I pulled some strings with a big boss for you. You can chat about an acquisition.” “If Sister works hard, maybe you can even sell for a little more, hmm?” My face went cold. I looked at Caleb. “I am still your legal wife!” “What is the meaning of this?” He saw no issue with Bunny’s blatant humiliation. Instead, he scowled at me. “Don’t be so ungrateful! Bunny heard you were in a bind and went out of her way to find someone for you. With the mess you’re in, you’re lucky to find a buyer at all!” I remembered when we were just starting out. Caleb had said we would build two companies and always have each other’s backs. That no matter how hard things got, we would never abandon one another. Ever since Bunny arrived, a chasm had grown between us. And now, before we’d even hit rock bottom, he could say something like this. A chill crept into my heart. “My company is in trouble, and you won’t help me? What about your promise?” Caleb exploded. “Serena, so that’s it! You were only with me for my money, waiting for me to bail you out!” He pointed at the key card. “This is just a reservation card for a business lounge! Do you think Bunny is as dirty-minded as you?” “Besides, this was a test for you.” His voice was dripping with self-righteousness. “If you had fought with everything you had and still failed, I would have helped you.” “But unfortunately, you failed my test.” Caleb slapped a post-nuptial property division agreement on the table. “Sign it. I’m deeply disappointed in you. I have no obligation to pay for your mistakes.” He wanted to completely sever his company from mine. I gave him a long, meaningful look. “Fortunes can turn on a dime in this business. When your company needs a lifeline, can you promise you won’t come to me?” Bunny burst into a fit of giggles, collapsing into Caleb’s arms. “Sister, you should focus on cleaning up your own mess first!” “Oh my god, Bunny has never met someone with so little self-awareness!” Caleb’s lips curled into a mocking smile. “You?” “Serena, don’t make a fool of yourself. Sign the agreement. When you’re truly broke, I might let you be a housewife. Don’t be so greedy.” My heart turned to ice. I signed the document without a word. Then I pulled out the divorce papers. “I’ve signed. Now you sign this.” “And I hope you remember what you said today.” Caleb froze for a second, then chuckled. “Playing hard to get? Who taught you that trick?” “You don’t actually think I’m going to beg you to stay, do you?” When I just stared at him, he slowly signed his name. He shot me one last contemptuous look. “Serena, I’m waiting for the day you come crawling back, begging me not to leave you.” With that, he left, Bunny trotting gleefully behind him. I immediately took the papers to my lawyer to start the divorce proceedings. I couldn’t wait another second. To keep Caleb from discovering the truth about his company, I had to pretend I was really looking for a buyer. I contacted the person Bunny had recommended. We met at the business lounge that weekend. The man across from me didn’t beat around the bush. “Sweetheart, I hear your company’s going bankrupt. Ten thousand dollars. I’ll buy it.” I laughed. It was insulting. Even on the brink of collapse, Caleb’s company, which I had slaved over for a year, was still worth millions. He wanted to buy my hard work for ten thousand dollars? What a joke. I rolled my eyes and stood up to leave. But when I opened the door, I came face-to-face with Bunny. “Sister, you’re not satisfied with ten thousand? That’s a fortune!” I just stared at her. “If the company were liquidated, Caleb would never settle for so little.” Bunny shoved me back into the room. “Bitch! Don’t you dare use Caleb to threaten me! You think he gives a damn about you?” “I bet you didn’t know, he set the price himself! He said you and your pathetic little company are only worth that much!” She waved her hand, and two women appeared behind her. They were the housekeepers Caleb had hired for our home. Caleb’s backing had made her utterly arrogant. “You’re signing this today, whether you like it or not!” The two women, their grips like iron, grabbed me and forced me into a chair. They pressed my thumb onto the ink pad and stamped my print on the contract. Then they pried my right hand open, trying to force me to sign. I struggled with all my might, leaving a series of frantic squiggles on the acquisition contract. Bunny clicked her tongue in annoyance. She slapped me, twice. “You want to do this the hard way? Are you going to sign or not?” My face was already swelling, but I managed a defiant smile. “You’re just a secretary Caleb is sleeping with. Why should I listen to you?” “Serena! You dare look down on me?!” Bunny saw red. She slapped me again and again, a dozen times or more. When her arm got tired, she had the housekeepers take over. They didn’t hesitate, as if they were certain Bunny was their future mistress. The slaps rained down on my face until I was on the verge of blacking out. After what felt like an eternity, Bunny grabbed me by the collar again. “I’m asking you one last time. Are. You. Signing?” My cheeks were on fire, my head spinning. “I’ll sign… I’ll sign… please, just stop…” After I signed, Bunny fished the company seal out of my bag and stamped the document. She admired the contract with a triumphant smile. I smiled with her. Because she didn’t know that the seal she had just used belonged to Caleb’s company. Just as the contract was signed, Caleb walked in. Bunny immediately snuggled up to him, seeking praise. “Wasn’t Bunny amazing? Bunny got Sister to sign the contract!” “Good job.” Caleb turned to me. He saw my face, swollen like a pig’s, and my pathetic form slumped on the floor. A flicker of pity crossed his eyes before he hardened them. “Ten thousand was more than generous. You brought this on yourself.” I used the wall to pull myself up, my face a blank mask. “You’re right.” Caleb froze, the rest of his taunt dying in his throat. “Tomorrow,” he finally said, “you will hold a press conference. You will publicly announce that your company was acquired for ten thousand dollars, and that you are leaving the industry for good.” He wanted to make me a laughingstock, to ensure I could never recover. I nodded. Caleb, thinking I had finally submitted, softened his tone slightly. “If you had just been this obedient from the start.” “Alright, after the press conference, we’ll call it even. Stop causing trouble, come home, and I won’t abandon you completely.” I pulled myself to my feet, my expression unchanged. “Yes. It’s over.” It wasn’t just this incident that was over. He was over. In my life, he was finished. Seeing me stumble, Caleb seemed to reach out to steady me. I slapped his hand away. The tiny spark of pity he’d felt for me was instantly extinguished. “Serena, and here I thought you’d learned your lesson.” “When you’re broke and come begging, if you’re not on your knees crawling and barking like a dog, I won’t even give you the time of day!” I suddenly smiled, looking back at him over my shoulder. “I think that’s an excellent idea.” “When the time comes, I’ll be sure to do the same.” I left him there, puzzling over my words, and walked out. The next day, the press conference was a hive of whispers and rumors. “I heard she had to spread her legs to find a buyer!” “Didn’t Thorne Industries just land that billion-dollar deal? Weren’t they supposed to become a major player? What happened?” “Maybe she negotiated that billion-dollar deal in bed too! And the guy just used her and dumped her! Hahaha!” In a single night, Caleb had launched a full-scale smear campaign. He and Bunny sat in the front row, waiting for the show. I was calm. “Thank you all for coming. I’m sure you’ve all heard the rumors.” “But—” I extended a hand towards Caleb in the audience. “—I believe Mr. Caleb Thorne is better qualified than I am to make this announcement.” All eyes turned to him. Caleb scoffed and threw his hands up. “It seems Ms. Thorne can’t face this tragic reality. I suppose I’ll have to do it for her.” He strode onto the stage, whispering in my ear as he passed, “What, you called me up here to beg for forgiveness in public?” “That’s a bit much, even for you. You’re putting me in an awkward position.” I handed him the speech, my face impassive. “I’m not the one who’ll be kneeling. But you? We’ll see.” Caleb sneered, opened the folder, and began to read in a lazy, mocking tone. “Good morning, members of the press. Regarding the rumors of my company being acquired for ten thousand dollars—” “They are true.” The room erupted. Flashes from the cameras turned the stage into a sea of white light. Bunny was already howling with laughter, even letting out an excited whistle. Caleb basked in the moment, continuing without a thought. “Caelus Corp has been fully acquired for the price of ten thousand dollars—” “Caelus Corp? Serena, did you make a mistake?”

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When I cry, a crescent moon birthmark appears on my face. My three childhood friends brought the new transfer student to me, demanding I cry so she could see it. Lucas frowned. “Iris did poorly on the exam. Just do it to cheer her up.” I looked at the other two. “What about you guys? You want me to cry for her too?” They exchanged a look and took a half-step back. “How could we make Chloe cry?” “Chloe’s tears are our most precious treasure.” 1 Iris’s expression froze on her face. She looked at the other two, then reluctantly lowered her head. “Let’s just forget it. Chloe and I aren’t close anyway, it’s normal for her to refuse…” Lucas frowned. “Chloe, are you really unwilling?” I laughed in anger. “She did poorly on the exam, what does that have to do with me?” We weren’t even in the same class. In other words, do I even know this transfer student?! Seeing Lucas’s disappointment, Iris tugged at his sleeve, her eyes red. “Doing poorly on the exam is my own problem, let’s not make things difficult for others.” Lucas stood stubbornly still. Iris seemed unable to hold it in anymore. She stomped her foot, covered her face in humiliation, and ran out. Lucas stared at me. He hesitated, then said, “Chloe, there was no need for that.” I was getting angry. But he turned and chased after her. Psycho?! Who cries for a stranger just for kicks? 2 I slammed my pen on the desk. Two people sat down opposite me. Usually, the three of them would surround me. Ethan touched my ponytail. “Don’t be mad at Lucas. He’s been acting like he’s brainwashed lately.” “What do you mean?” My two childhood friends looked at each other. Ethan finally told me. “The new girl sat next to Lucas as soon as she arrived.” “She keeps telling him how expensive the tuition is here, how hard it was for her to get in but everything is bilingual and she doesn’t understand, and she can’t fit in with any groups.” “Lucas… he probably just felt sorry for her.” I still didn’t like hearing it. Lucas felt sorry for her, so he wanted me to cry for a stranger for no reason? What’s wrong with him? Ethan smiled. “Don’t be unhappy. We have equestrian class next week, I’ll take you riding, okay?” The four of us grew up together. We promised long ago to go to the same college. Lucas was being ridiculous. But the others weren’t wrong. I pouted. “Whatever, I’m too lazy to deal with him.” 3 After school. There was a figure next to Lucas. Acting scared. She hid behind him when she saw us. Lucas walked over. “We’ve been waiting for a long time.” Specific wording: We. He said, “Iris’s English foundation isn’t good. She messed up the exam mainly because she couldn’t understand the questions.” No one spoke. He looked at me. “Chloe, I remember you have a foreign tutor. Can Iris join your lessons?” My gaze landed on her face. Iris couldn’t dodge it. She could only soften her voice. “Chloe, would that be too much trouble for you…” “It is very troublesome.” My face went cold. Iris looked helpless. She tugged at Lucas for help. “Maybe I should just figure something out myself…” He sighed. “I suggested helping her with tutoring. If you don’t want to, just say so. No need to be so sharp.” I stared at Lucas. Suddenly, my childhood friend felt like a stranger. “I’m sharp?” “If I wasn’t sharp, would I have to cry to make someone else laugh just because you pissed me off?” Lucas paused slightly. “I didn’t mean that. Iris just said she’d never seen…” I didn’t want to listen. I turned and walked away alone. Behind me, the usual three sets of footsteps became two. Mason caught up to me. “Don’t wait for him, but wait for us.” “Lucas is an idiot, but we aren’t.” He walked backward facing me. “Ethan, tell her, am I right?” Ethan put away his phone. He followed unhurriedly. “Lucas said I should comfort you.” “Is there more?” Ethan was silent for a moment. “He said… neither he nor Iris had bad intentions, he doesn’t understand why you’re being so unreasonable.” “Damn!” Mason yelled. “Is that comforting her?!” I looked away. “Whatever.” 4 Halfway through my oral practice. My mom called me and I realized today was Auntie Qiao’s birthday (Mason’s mom). She didn’t want a big party, so just our close families were getting together. I pushed open the door. Iris was chatting with my three childhood friends. The atmosphere was lively. Meeting my gaze, their faces changed in unison. I turned to leave. Mason immediately chased after me. “Chloe, don’t go!” “What’s wrong, are you mad?” He grabbed my hand from behind. Trying to explain: “Lucas was helping her with English, so he brought her along. I couldn’t exactly kick her out.” “Don’t be mad, okay?” I was silent. I had to admit, seeing Iris sitting where I should have been sitting… Anger rushed straight to my head. After calming down a bit, I realized. That wasn’t my house. I had no right to dictate where Iris should be. I smiled. “I just remembered I have something to do.” Mason wouldn’t let go. “What’s wrong, Chloe? Why does your smile seem so distant?” He probed. “Do you really hate Iris that much?” “Would you like someone who wants to see your physiological reaction the moment you meet?” Mason was stumped. He raised his hands in surrender. “Just for today, it’s my mom’s birthday, we can’t make a scene.” “Chloe, don’t be mad. I won’t talk to her anymore, okay?” I walked back with him. Very seriously: “Who you hang out with is your choice.” “Mason, I won’t interfere.” “But I also have my bottom line for making friends.”

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To attend the same college as my rich second-generation boyfriend, I filled my college entrance exam answer sheet with wrong answers. But half an hour before the exam ended, several bullet screen comments (danmu) suddenly appeared before my eyes. [This idiot supporting character. She has the brains for an Ivy League school but insists on playing the ‘devoted to community college’ role. Did a donkey kick her in the head?] [She really latched onto the male lead, huh? Too bad he’s just been using her for amusement from start to finish. Does she really think she has a shot at being a wealthy young mistress?] [Just a gold digger. If she knew she isn’t even in Caleb’s future plans, would she go crazy on the spot?] [Caleb must be tired pretending to be a slacker. He’s really going all out just to win a bet.] My hand holding the eraser paused. Then, I erased all the wrong answers on the answer sheet. 1 After writing the last word of my essay, I looked up at the clock. Thirty minutes left until the exam ended. This was a high-scoring essay, smooth and profound. Under normal circumstances, it would deserve a near-perfect score. But right now, it was like gold thrown into a dumpster— Because I had carefully filled in wrong answers for all the multiple-choice questions on this exam, and deliberately left one-third of the subjective questions blank. Yes, I was intentionally tanking my score. For Caleb. The rich second-generation boyfriend who secretly held my hand under the desk during evening study sessions and used his deep voice to describe “simple happiness in an ordinary college.” He said he was dumb and could only scrape into a second-tier college even if he tried his best. He said he couldn’t live without me, that campus life would be meaningless without me. He even imagined wedding cannons and white veils with me, as if happiness was within reach as long as we settled for mediocrity. So I played along, sinking with him, personally strangling the opportunity I had earned through ten years of hard study. But just as I was about to cap my pen and pack up, a light flashed before my eyes, and several lines of semi-transparent text floated across my answer sheet like bullet screen comments on a video. [This idiot supporting character. She has the brains for an Ivy League school but insists on playing the ‘devoted to community college’ role. Did a donkey kick her in the head?] My breath hitched, and I froze. Hallucination? Or hysteria from exam stress? Before I could sort out my thoughts, the second and third lines followed, dripping with sharper sarcasm: [She really latched onto the male lead, huh? Too bad he’s just been using her for amusement from start to finish. Does she really think she has a shot at being a wealthy young mistress?] [Just a gold digger. If she knew she isn’t even in Caleb’s future plans, would she go crazy on the spot?] [Caleb must be tired pretending to be a slacker. He’s really going all out just to win a bet.] Amusement? Bet? Pretending to be a slacker? My mind went blank for a second. Then, Caleb’s deeply affectionate eyes surfaced before me, twisted, and finally turned into the wrong options on the answer sheet in front of me. I looked up in confusion, staring at the powerful conclusion of my essay, “A bright future,” and actually started to hesitate. Even if these words were fake, was I really going to hand over my last card to Caleb with both hands? But as soon as I closed my eyes, I could recall Caleb standing before me with a huge bouquet of roses, swearing, “Tingting, I will definitely marry you.” Twenty-five minutes left. Time was tight, allowing no room for thought or verification. I gripped the eraser in my hand without hesitation and began to scrub the answer sheet furiously. Twenty-five minutes was enough to change all the multiple-choice answers and flesh out the key points for the subjective questions. … The bell finally rang. The answer sheets were collected in order, but the text on the desk continued to scroll. [What is the supporting character doing? Cold feet at the last minute? Too late.] [She’s erasing hard, but unfortunately, life doesn’t have an eraser. Her brain must be rusty after all these years.] [Exactly. Caleb burns the midnight oil studying after hanging out with her. How could a love-struck fool like her possibly outscore him?] I stopped my trembling hands. Looking at these comments again, my eyes turned cold. How did they know that Caleb wasn’t the only one burning the midnight oil? 2 It’s true that I like Caleb. But my feelings for him are seven parts affection, three parts rationality. After all, the day I met Caleb, I had just ranked first in the city and was being kicked out of my house. “First in the city? Xie Ting, are you crazy? How much money did you steal from home to pay tuition?!” My mom screamed, spit flying onto my face. “I earned it from part-time jobs.” I clutched the report card, knuckles white. “That little money is useless! The neighbor Old Wang’s daughter married a factory owner before finishing high school. Now she wears gold and silver and owns three houses! And you? Did reading books turn into gold for you?” My dad squatted in the corner smoking, the cheap tobacco smoke hiding his expression. “Get out! You’re an eyesore! Don’t stand here blocking the way.” Bang! The heavy slam of the security door triggered the hallway lights. I was swept out like trash, without mercy. Nowhere to go, didn’t even grab a coat. The report card I was so proud of became waste paper in an instant. —Turns out my hard work, my grades, were worthless. Yet I counted on them to give me a way out. How ridiculous. Caleb appeared at that moment. When I was nearly frozen numb, piercing headlights cut through the darkness. Caleb sat in the back seat of a Porsche, wearing a well-tailored cashmere coat, a dark scarf highlighting his cold, fair skin. “Student,” he said, his voice gentle, “Aren’t you cold?” I looked at him. I watched him drape an expensive scarf over me, saw the inherent ease and superiority that money piled up around him, and contrasted it with my own wretched state. A strong, almost instinctive thought grew wildly. Money. Power. Status. Only by grasping these would my words matter. So, I reached out to Caleb. He was the only driftwood I could see, the closest one to me as I drowned. What happened next followed naturally. He took me to his unused luxury apartment, listened to my grievances, and built a perfect future for me with expensive gifts and sweet words—a blueprint of happiness where I didn’t need to be excellent, just needed to be by his side to have everything. He said his parents didn’t want a daughter-in-law who was too smart, just virtuous enough. And my parents came to the door with fawning smiles and fruit baskets, praising my ability and vision. I could finally be their “daughter” again, bringing more glory to their faces than Old Wang’s daughter next door. Yes, I love Caleb. I love his money, his face, his family background, and the vanity of being his girlfriend that allowed me to crush my past. To marry him, of course I could give up these worthless grades. However, people who have been abandoned don’t gain a sense of security so easily. The despair of the day I met him was like a thorn, stuck deep in my heart. —I was afraid he would break his promise. Caleb’s world was cold and flashy. His kindness was too perfect, too selfless. His friends all looked at me with pity that said “you’ll be dumped sooner or later.” Behind him, there were whispers that “Xie Ting isn’t worthy.” The speaker might not mean it, but the listener takes it to heart. This fear followed me like a shadow during this seemingly stable year. So, in the late nights when I seemed to have given up, I devoured problem sets on scratch paper again and again, comforting myself with full marks on practice tests that I had a trump card. A card I might not need, but must have. Just like in the exam hall, those subjective questions I left blank were the easiest to fill, and the multiple-choice questions were the easiest to change. Was it worth trading a temporary future for a backer? For me, yes. As long as we married, I could share the family assets. Giving up these four years might get me things I couldn’t get with years of hard work. But if it was traded for a false promise and a result of ridicule… Then it wasn’t worth it. 3 Coming out of the exam hall, I saw Caleb immediately. He leaned against that flashy Porsche, his posture lazy and noble. A few girls passing by wanted to strike up a conversation but were deterred by his distant gaze. Standing next to him was his childhood friend, Zhao Lin. They chatted enthusiastically, completely unaware of me submerged in the crowd. “Awesome, bro! A gentleman isn’t afraid to wait!” Zhao Lin’s face was full of schadenfreude. “Once the admission notices come out, you can completely escape this misery.” I paused. From a short distance, I heard Caleb’s voice. —Unlike usual, with his back to me, his tone was full of contempt. “Soon. Just thinking about not having to act in front of that pretentiously noble face makes me feel comfortable all over.” Zhao Lin asked again: “When the time comes, our Young Master Zhou won’t be reluctant to let go, right?” I held my breath, actually expecting Caleb to hesitate. Unfortunately, Caleb barely thought before saying with disgust: “Her? Besides being a bit smart, how can she compare to Xia? Playing with her is already doing her a favor.” Zhao Lin punched his shoulder: “True, you really went all out for Xu Xia. Who would have thought Young Master Zhou would condescend to transfer to this crappy place for her, and even bite the bullet to coax a nerd? Pretending to be deep, pretending to be a slacker, smiling every day… big sacrifice!” Caleb sneered: “This is nothing. Pei Xiao made this bet with me just to keep me away from Xia. I want to see, after the applications are done, who will have to leave Xia.” …Who is Pei Xiao? And who is Xu Xia? So, those comments were all true. I was a gambling chip in Caleb’s hand, his pastime for the year, never part of his future plans. So that’s how it is. My past efforts were worthless to my parents. Now, my willing sacrifice is still worthless in his eyes. Then who allowed this world to treat me so lightly? The disappeared comments reappeared at this moment. [Holy crap, when did the supporting female arrive? Did she hear everything?] [Didn’t she just erase the answer sheet? The script isn’t written like this!] [Small change, it’s normal for the supporting character to struggle a bit. Can’t make big waves anyway~] [Can she go offline already! I really want to see Xu Xia and Caleb together! No more cold war for the Leopard and Cat!] I took a deep breath and walked towards them. Seeing me, Caleb’s face changed. He quickly signaled Zhao Lin. Zhao Lin understood, shouted an exaggerated “Hi sister-in-law,” and disappeared instantly. Caleb took my favorite lemon tea from the back seat and smoothly took the pencil case from my hand, welcoming me into the car. “Hard work, baby. How was the exam? Tired?” I was a bit dispirited, only answering “It was okay” in a muffled voice. The comments that just flashed by were in my mind. “Good is good. I know our Tingting is the best.” He smiled and rubbed my hair, his actions intimate and natural. However, the next sentence added an imperceptible nervousness. “But, Tingting…” His voice became lighter, softer, with a coaxing tone. “Did you really… change the answers as we agreed? Chose the wrong ones for multiple choice?” My heart sank, but soon I adjusted my mood and nodded. “Mmh, I wrote wrong answers even for the ones I knew.” “Really?” His follow-up question came almost immediately. “Left the essay blank too? Didn’t… couldn’t help writing too much?” [Hahahahaha Examiner Zhou: Please confirm again if the candidate has self-destructed their future.] [She wrote it! She even changed the multiple-choice answers back! (Violent Roar!) Don’t believe her!] [Wait, screenwriter are you there? What is she doing! Can someone give a spoiler??] I looked up, my gaze piercing through the comments, meeting Caleb’s eyes directly. “Of course. You said your parents hope their future daughter-in-law isn’t too sharp, should be docile and virtuous, and too high a degree is bad. And…” I tilted my head slightly, leaning shyly into his arms: “And didn’t you say this gives you a sense of security? Proving I really love you, willing to give up better choices for you, to live an ordinary, stable life with you. I remember it all.” Caleb’s body visibly relaxed, as if relieved of a heavy burden. “I knew you were so understanding. Don’t worry, those diplomas people fight for are nothing. I’ll only give you something better.” Better… mockery? I leaned on him docilely, but my gaze went over his shoulder, lingering on a few new comments. [Can’t take it anymore! This supporting female is so tea (fake/manipulative) ahhhhhhh!] [Caleb, if you keep this up, I’m telling Xu Xia! (Hands on hips)] [Reporting +1! Xu Xia come see your Leopard tricking another cat!] [It’s fine! Once the bet is over, Pei Xiao and Xie Ting can both roll far away!] … Xu Xia… Pei Xiao… In other words, this Caleb who spared no “huge sacrifice” to trick me into failing the college entrance exam is a “love brain” (lovesick fool). A love brain? That makes things easier. 4 For the next two days of exams, I dutifully played my role as the “stupid trophy wife.” Facing Caleb’s every seemingly casual but actually scheming probe— “Tingting, that last big question was hard, right? Did you help writing too much again?” My eyes were clear to the bottom, with just the right amount of innocence and dependence: “You said to leave it blank. I remembered, so I just scribbled a bit.” Tone soft, no flaws. Everything seemed to be advancing steadily in the direction Caleb planned. Except, I saw a name mentioned repeatedly in the comments on the list outside the exam hall. Pei Xiao. Coincidentally, sitting diagonally behind me. If the comments were true, then we “protagonists” and “supporting roles” with names would definitely be arranged in close proximity according to plot needs. So, the female lead Xu Xia must be here too. Following this guess, I quickly found Xu Xia’s name in this building. She was arranged in the same corridor as Caleb’s exam room. The female lead is right next to the male lead. How fitting for the plot. So do those comments that follow like shadows, yet fail to notice my late-night studying, only focus on the main plot line? My gaze fell on Pei Xiao’s name again. The last exam ended. I deliberately slowed down packing my stationery, but my gaze locked onto the figure diagonally behind me who had already stood up. He moved swiftly, stuffing his pencil case into his bag, and strode out of the classroom with the flow of people. I stood up quickly, entering the crowd almost at the same time as him. It was crowded. I had to be very close to keep up. Fortunately, he never looked back, just walking steadily through the noisy crowd, disappearing into the stairwell on the other side of the corridor. I quickened my pace, following him into the stairwell. —The stairwell was empty. Footsteps gone. Even Pei Xiao was gone. Discovered. My heart tightened. I instinctively took a step back, looking around alertly. A voice descended from above. “You’re following me.” I looked up sharply. Pei Xiao stood on the platform of the highest step, looking down at me. “Something up?” “Let’s talk.” I looked up, meeting his gaze without flinching. “About you and Caleb betting on me.” “You’re that city-wide first place?” Pei Xiao raised an eyebrow, sneering. “I’m not interested in talking to a love-struck fool with no willpower.” I curled my lips: “A-B-B-B, C-C-C-A, C-C-A.” Pei Xiao stopped in his tracks. “Should I continue? You know, just out of the exam, I haven’t had time to check the answers.” A brief silence filled the empty stairwell. The mockery in his eyes faded, replaced by interest. “I can make Caleb win,” I issued an invitation to him, “Naturally, I can also make you win.” Just as he was about to speak— “Xiao!” A clear female voice came from upstairs. “Waited for you for so long, so you were here!” Almost forgot, the male and female leads’ exam rooms were upstairs. Xu Xia’s figure soon appeared at the top of the stairs, and behind her, Caleb walked out looking unkind. Seeing Pei Xiao, his face was indifferent. But soon, he noticed me in front of Pei Xiao, and frowned: “Tingting? You know each other?” I looked at Pei Xiao. He shrugged, with no intention of explaining. So I stepped forward, familiarly wrapping my arm around Caleb’s, my voice sweetly cloying: “You’re here? I dropped my pencil case just now, thanks to this student for picking it up for me.” As I spoke, I shook the pencil case in my hand, looking at Pei Xiao sincerely: “Didn’t have time to say it just now, thanks student. Want to grab a meal together? My boyfriend is very rich.” After speaking, I seemed to just notice Xu Xia at the top of the stairs: “Eh? Is this pretty sister your friend?” I deliberately emphasized the word “friend,” leaning half my body onto Caleb. Caleb’s body stiffened noticeably, looking at Xu Xia nervously. Xu Xia didn’t look at me. Her gaze first fell on my hand holding Caleb, then moved straight up to meet Caleb’s eyes: “This is your love-struck girlfriend? Very sweet. Bless you two.” ? Did I provoke you? Before anyone could react, Xu Xia walked down the steps, reached out naturally, and gently hooked Pei Xiao’s pinky: “Xiao, I’m a bit tired. Take me home.” Under Caleb’s visibly green face, Xu Xia led Pei Xiao away from the stairwell holding hands. Passing me, I saw Pei Xiao’s left eye wink imperceptibly. [Holy crap holy crap holy crap! Nuclear level Shura field (love triangle chaos)!!!] [Xu · Niu Gulu · Xia: The arm-link kill! Counterattack!] [Female lead scolded well! This supporting female is tea to the max.] [Pei Xiao: Who am I, where am I? Whatever, I’ll just stand here.] [Why do I suddenly feel Caleb and Xu Xia fighting is also exciting? Love to watch!] [Shura field plot over. Next plot is the reconciliation, right! Leopard and Cat, speak your feelings!] The comments appeared again. Countless curses at me, discussions about the leads, discussions about the next plot. But not a word about the confrontation between me and Pei Xiao before Xu Xia and Caleb appeared. Indeed, the plot has blind spots. This plot blind spot is my free zone.

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It happened the week before my high school graduation. My brother, Leo, was driving me to pick up Mom and Dad from work when we crashed. The only thing worse than the screeching metal was the silence afterward. I sustained a spinal cord injury. I never walked again. The bright, clear future I’d built vanished into the smog of reality, and I fell into the black hole of clinical depression. Every day was an agony. Mom, Evelyn, who never got past community college, didn’t understand the diagnosis. When I hurt myself, she’d just hold me, again and again. “It’s okay, Willow. Mom will always be right here.” Dad, Robert, took on two extra jobs. I barely saw him. “Don’t worry,” he’d promise, his voice rough. “We’re fine on cash. We’ll beat this thing.” Leo stayed by my side constantly. “This is my fault,” he’d whisper, his eyes haunted. “I’ll protect you, always.” Three years. They gave me three years of their lives, anchoring themselves to my pain. I truly believed I was lucky. I thought, one day, I’d stand in the sunshine and tell them, laughing, “I’m better now.” But then came that day. All I did was whisper, “I’m so tired.” Mom just… shattered. “Then die already! I am done with this life!” she screamed. “Our whole lives revolve around you! How are we supposed to fix you? I’m going to end up depressed, too, living like this!” She slammed the door. Leo scrambled after her. The silence they left was deafening. I looked at the kitchen knife I kept by the bed. Death was better. No more trouble for anyone. No more agonizing pain for me. 1 The cold tip dragged across my skin. Blood bloomed instantly. A sharp, searing red. Usually, they’d be here. Mom would hug me, patting my back like when I was small. She always said, Sleep it off, Willow. Everything’s better when you’re sleeping. But she didn’t know that sleep was just another form of torture. I rarely rested well; I was always dreaming. I’d dream I could stand up and walk across the college quad. Or I’d dream my condition mysteriously worsened, and I couldn’t even move my head. I never told her. She couldn’t fix it, and it would only increase her sighing. I was already enough of a headache. Better to spare her the worry. Leo would gently bandage me, careful not to cause any more pain. He even gave up his dream major for me. He was at the top of his class, but he switched to Psychology—just to try and fix me. It was all his guilt. He’d only had his license a few weeks that day. I told him to slow down, and he just grinned, dismissive. “Relax, sis. Your brother’s a pro. Nothing’s going to happen.” The next second: the shriek of the brakes. I haven’t seen that genuine, carefree grin since. I told him a hundred times. “Leo, it was an accident. You didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t blame you.” But he’d look at the clean white gauze on my wrist and cry harder than I did. White wasn’t as blinding as red, at least. Thinking that, I slowly closed my eyes. The wet warmth under my wrist spread beneath me. Then it grew cold, making me shiver. Thank goodness I pulled the blanket over me first. It would have been colder otherwise. More importantly, the blanket would hide the mess. Mom was terrified of blood. Every time I hurt myself, she fought to keep her legs from collapsing just so she could hold me. It’s okay. We all told lies, all kept secrets. Mom’s ‘forever’ was just three years. Dad’s ‘money’ was his body failing from exhaustion. Leo’s ‘protection’ had started to thin out last year when he finally got a girlfriend. I forgave them. I hope they can forgive me for the lie I told them last month: “I’m totally cured.” Technically, it wasn’t a total lie. I really did feel better. I just don’t know why, today, that sudden, drowning weight just swallowed me again. Sadness. Exhaustion. I just mentioned it casually. I didn’t want anything else. Just Mom’s hug. Just a moment in her arms, breathing in the scent of her sweater. She always did that without me asking. But today, she screamed and shattered. I understood. She was just worn down, reactive. She wasn’t mad at me. I couldn’t be mad at her. I understood. What did she say? She was going to end up depressed, too. No. I couldn’t let Mom get this disease. It’s more than just a ‘bad mood.’ It’s this—this struggle to breathe. I told myself it was just extreme anxiety triggering a somatic response. Just slow down my breathing. Just calm down. Next second: darkness.

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Chapter 1: The Funeral in White The wedding invitation was embossed on heavy, cream-colored cardstock that felt like cold skin. It read: The Valenti Family requests the honor of your presence at the marriage of Dante Valenti and Joy Miller. But as I sat in the dressing room of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, staring at my reflection in the gilded mirror, I knew what it really was. It was a receipt. A transfer of property. “Stop fidgeting, Joy,” my mother whispered, her hands trembling as she adjusted the lace veil that cost more than her medical treatments for the next five years combined. “You have to look happy. If you look sad, they’ll think we’re ungrateful. And we cannot afford to be ungrateful to the Valentis.” “Ungrateful?” I let out a dry, hollow laugh. The sound died instantly in the heavy velvet drapes of the room. “Mom, Dad sold me. Let’s call it what it is. I am the interest payment on his gambling debts.” My mother froze. She looked at me with eyes rimmed red from sleepless nights. “Your father… he didn’t mean for this to happen. The federal indictment, the frozen assets… Joy, if you don’t do this, they will kill him in prison. And then they will come for me.” I looked at her—frail, terrified, her beauty eaten away by illness and fear. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. “I know,” I said, smoothing the silk of the custom Vera Wang gown. It fit perfectly, tailored to within an inch of my life, a beautiful, white straightjacket. “I’m doing it. Just… don’t ask me to smile.” I had a secret, one I hadn’t told anyone. I believed I was cursed. When I was sixteen, my first boyfriend died in a car crash the night after I told him I loved him. My best friend in college was diagnosed with leukemia a week after we swore to be sisters forever. My father, the once-respected Judge Arthur Miller, was caught in a corruption scandal the year I moved back home. I was a cooler. A jinx. A black cat in human form. Maybe, I thought as the heavy oak doors creaked open, maybe I’ll be the curse that finally destroys the Valenti family. The organ music swelled—Wagner’s Bridal Chorus, played with a funereal slowness. I walked down the aisle. The cathedral was cavernous and cold, filled not with friends, but with soldiers. Men in sharp Italian suits with bulges under their jackets that certainly weren’t wallets. They watched me with predatory eyes. And at the altar stood Dante Valenti. He was the Crown Prince of New York’s underworld. The heir apparent. He was terrifyingly beautiful, like a statue carved from ice and obsidian. His hair was jet black, swept back from a face that was all sharp angles and pale skin. He didn’t smile. He watched me approach with a gaze that was void of any emotion—no lust, no pity, just cold calculation. I reached the altar. My hand was placed in his. His skin was freezing. “Dearly beloved,” the priest began, his voice shaking slightly. I looked at Dante. Up close, he looked… sick. There was a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead, despite the chill in the church. His pupils were dilated. “Do you, Dante, take this woman…” “I do,” Dante said. His voice was a low rasp, like gravel grinding on steel. “Do you, Joy…” I hesitated. I looked at the stained glass window, at the figure of a martyr. “I do.” Dante leaned in to kiss me. It was part of the show. I expected him to be rough, possessive. Instead, his lips barely brushed mine. “You’re shaking,” he whispered, so low only I could hear. “I’m cold,” I lied. “Get used to it,” Dante murmured, pulling back to look into my eyes. “It’s always cold in my house.” Chapter 2: The House of Vipers The Valenti Estate on Long Island was a fortress disguised as a Gatsby-era mansion. High stone walls topped with razor wire, security cameras blinking in the trees like mechanical owls, and German Shepherds patrolling the perimeter. My life as Mrs. Dante Valenti began in silence. The house was a mausoleum. The floors were marble, the furniture was antique, and the air was thick with tension. I was given the “Blue Suite” in the east wing. Dante slept in the Master Suite in the west wing. Our marriage was, as promised, a transaction. But a transaction implies a balance of power. Here, I had none. I was paraded out for dinners. Every night at 7:00 PM, I was expected to sit at the long dining table. The cast of characters was a nightmare. There was Don Salvatore Valenti, Dante’s father. The “Godfather.” He was old, wheezing, hooked up to a portable oxygen tank, but his eyes were sharp and cruel. And then there was Uncle Luca. Luca Valenti was the Underboss. He was loud, boisterous, and exuded the smell of cigars and violence. He hated Dante. It was an open secret. He believed Dante was too “soft,” too “intellectual” to lead the family business (which was technically “Waste Management Logistics,” but actually involved everything from racketeering to shipping illegal arms). “Look at him,” Luca sneered one night, stabbing a piece of steak with his fork. “He picks at his food like a bird. You need red meat, nephew. Builds strength. That’s why you’re so pale. No blood in your veins.” Dante didn’t look up from his plate. He was pushing a pea around with his knife. “I’m fine, Uncle.” “Fine?” Luca laughed, a booming sound that made the crystal glasses tremble. “You look like a ghost. Maybe marriage is draining you? Or maybe you’re just not built for this life.” Dante dropped his fork. It clattered loudly against the china. “I run the logistics, Luca. The profits are up 15% this quarter. My health is none of your concern.” “Profits are numbers,” Luca leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “Power is blood. And you look like you’re running out of it.” I watched this exchange, terrified. I realized then that Dante wasn’t the monster I thought he was. He was the prey. He was surrounded by wolves waiting for him to stumble. And he was stumbling. I noticed it in the second week. I was an insomniac—a side effect of living in a house full of killers. I would wander the hallways at night. The walls of the west wing were thin. Every night, around 3:00 AM, I heard it. Coughing. It wasn’t a normal cough. It was a wet, tearing sound. A sound of lungs struggling for air. It went on for hours. One night, the sound was so violent I thought he was dying. I couldn’t ignore it. I grabbed my silk robe, tied it tight, and walked to his door. I didn’t knock. I pushed it open. The room smelled of copper and sickness. Dante was sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over. He was shirtless. His back was lean, the muscles defined but wiry. He was clutching a white handkerchief to his mouth. His shoulders heaved with every spasm. He pulled the cloth away. Even in the moonlight, I could see the dark, crimson stain. “Get out!” he rasped, seeing me in the doorway. He crumpled the handkerchief, trying to hide it. I didn’t leave. My mother’s illness had taught me one thing: fear is useless in the face of pain. I walked to the nightstand, poured a glass of water from the carafe, and walked over to him. “Drink this,” I said, my voice steady. He glared at me. His hair was matted with sweat, his eyes feverish. “I said get out, Joy. You don’t want to see this.” “I’ve seen worse,” I said. “Drink.” He hesitated, his pride warring with his desperation. Finally, he took the glass. His hands were trembling so badly the water sloshed over the rim. He drank greedily. I sat on the ottoman at the foot of the bed. “What is it?” I asked. “Tuberculosis? Lung cancer?” He laughed, a bitter, wheezing sound. “I wish it was that simple.” He looked at the door, ensuring it was closed, then looked back at me. “Poison.” My blood turned to ice. “What?” “Not a lethal dose,” Dante whispered, wiping his mouth. “Not yet. Just enough to weaken me. Just enough to make me look sick, frail, unfit to lead. Arsenic, maybe. Or thallium. It accumulates in the system.” “Who?” “Take a guess.” I thought of Luca’s sneer at dinner. No blood in your veins. “Why don’t you go to a doctor?” I hissed. “Why don’t you tell your father? Or the police?” “The police?” He looked at me like I was a naive child. “We own the police. And as for my father… in this family, weakness is a capital offense. If my father knows I can’t protect my own food, he’ll replace me. If Luca knows the poison is working, he’ll finish the job. He’ll up the dose and kill me in my sleep.” He leaned back against the headboard, closing his eyes. He looked exhausted, broken. “I have to pretend I’m fine,” he said. “I have to hold on until the transition of power is complete. If I show weakness now, I’m dead.” He opened his eyes and looked at me. The ice was gone. There was just a vast, lonely ocean. “You can’t tell anyone, Joy. If Luca knows you know, you’re a liability. He’ll kill you.” “I won’t tell,” I said. “Why?” he scoffed. “You hate me. I bought you.” “Because,” I stood up, tightening my robe. “I know what it’s like to be trapped by your father’s sins.” Chapter 3: The Botanist and the Architect I didn’t just keep his secret. I decided to interfere. Before my life fell apart, I had been a botany student. My mother was an herbalist. I grew up in greenhouses, learning the language of roots and leaves. I knew that for every poison, nature created a counter-measure. I couldn’t take Dante to a hospital without alerting Luca’s spies. But I could control what he consumed. I took over the estate’s neglected kitchen garden. I told the staff it was my “hobby,” a bored trophy wife playing in the dirt. I planted milk thistle to protect the liver. I planted slippery elm to coat the throat. I planted ginger, turmeric, and dandelion root to flush out toxins. Every morning, I woke up at 5:00 AM. I brewed a thermos of tea. It was thick, dark, and smelled like wet earth. I would walk into Dante’s study before he left for the city. “Drink this,” I would say, placing the thermos on his mahogany desk. He would eye it suspiciously. “What is it? Witch’s brew?” “It will help your liver process the heavy metals,” I explained. “And it will soothe the inflammation in your lungs. Drink it all. Every drop.” He would look at me, confusion knitting his brows. “Why are you doing this, Joy?” “Because if you die,” I said pragmatically, “I’m left alone in this house with your Uncle Luca. And I prefer the devil I know.” He smirked. It was the first time I saw a genuine expression on his face. “Fair enough.” He drank it. Over the next three months, a strange, quiet intimacy developed between us. We were co-conspirators in a house of vipers. In public, we were the icy, distant couple. I played the part of the miserable wife; he played the distracted boss. But in the evenings, behind the locked doors of his study, we shed our armor. I discovered that Dante Valenti hated the mob. One night, I found him sketching. I thought he was looking at shipping routes or money laundering schemes. But when I looked closer, I saw lines of grace and light. “Is that… a library?” I asked, looking over his shoulder. He covered the paper quickly, like a boy caught with a dirty magazine. Then, he sighed and moved his hand. It was a beautiful sketch of a modern building, all glass and steel, cantilevered over a cliff. “I wanted to be an architect,” he admitted, tracing the lines with his finger. “I got into Cornell. I had a scholarship.”

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