Category: English

My billionaire biological parents finally came to take me home. My neighbors tried to warn them, saying I was a jinx, a walking disaster, and anyone who got close would suffer bad luck. They didn’t believe it. They insisted on taking me back, just to make me a scapegoat for their fake daughter, who had been cyberbullying the richest man’s heiress. Day 1: The fake daughter, afraid I’d steal her spotlight, tried to frame me but ended up falling down the stairs and getting a concussion. Day 2: My biological brother, trying to protect the fake daughter, threatened me to livestream a false confession. He ended up nearly strangled by a tangle of loose wires. Day 3: The richest man in the city came knocking, thinking I was the troll who harassed his daughter. He sent a squad of goons to ruin me. But before they could even get within three feet of me, a freak hailstorm pummeled them half to death. I walked away without a scratch. The billionaire’s revenge rebounded onto my biological parents. With their business teetering on the edge of bankruptcy, my “noble” parents were crying and begging my adoptive parents to take me back. “Please! We’ll give you anything! Just take this jinx back!” 1 When my wealthy biological parents came to pick me up, my neighbors and adoptive parents gave them fair warning: “This girl of ours, she’s got a strange fate. Bad luck follows her.” “You better think clearly before taking her.” The rich couple dismissed it, even looking annoyed at the superstition. “Stop spreading this nonsense. We’re her biological parents. We’re taking her home, not harming her.” I sneered internally. These two probably didn’t even recognize me. When their luxury car rolled into the village, I was just coming home and overheard their phone call. “Chloe, honey, you know we’re only bringing this biological daughter back to take the fall for you.” “You cyberbullied the daughter of the richest man in the city. This is the only way.” “Don’t worry, once the anger dies down over there, we’ll kick her out immediately.” “By then, she’ll probably be too ruined to function anyway.” The girl on the other end finally stopped throwing a tantrum. “But when she comes back, you can’t be nice to her.” “Your only precious daughter is me.” They agreed repeatedly before hanging up. Knowing the situation, I actually felt a pang of sympathy for this poor biological daughter. What kind of bad luck did she have to end up with parents like these? Turns out, the joke was on me. “Sure, let’s go back.” “I won’t be staying long anyway.” I got into the car with my wealthy bio-parents. As soon as we left the village, their faces changed. My biological mother, Mrs. Vance, scrutinized me: “Your name is Ava, right?” “We are respectable people in Capital City. You have to follow our rules when you come home.” “You will only be an adopted daughter. Chloe is our real daughter. You must yield to Chloe in everything. If she’s unhappy, you’ll be punished according to family rules.” I looked at her calmly: “Maybe my adoptive parents didn’t explain it clearly just now.” “My fate is weird. Anyone who treats me badly or wrongs me will have bad luck.” My biological father, Mr. Vance, scoffed: “Stop fear-mongering and spreading superstition. You can fool those country bumpkins, but don’t try to scare us. Watch your skin!” As soon as he finished speaking, the car started swerving erratically, spinning and drifting on the highway as if possessed. The couple screamed and clutched their seatbelts. The driver frantically tried to correct the steering, but it was futile. The car flipped. A huge rock fell from nowhere, smashing through the roof right where the Vances were sitting, tearing off chunks of flesh from their arms and legs. The smell of blood filled the cabin. Screams echoed. I shook my dizzy head and looked at them: “I told you, you’d have bad luck. Why didn’t you believe me?” “Look, flesh and skin all torn off.” I shook my head, tsk-tsking. “So tragic.” The couple was shocked, terrified, but mostly angry. “This is an accident! Just an accident! Stop gloating!” I shrugged indifferently. The rescue team soon got them out. They were about to be loaded onto the ambulance. But the stretcher fabric tore twice. Getting into the ambulance, the door slammed shut without warning, nearly severing their feet. After all that tossing and turning, their injuries worsened. As the ambulance prepared to leave, they didn’t forget to yell at the driver: “Remember to send her home! I don’t believe she’s this jinxed!” 2 I rode back to Capital City in the rescue team’s car. Since the driver and I were fine, after a thirty-minute observation, he took me home. He handed me over to the butler. Then he handed the phone to the butler, with Mr. Vance on the line. Even from a distance, I could hear his roaring voice. “Alfred, teach this unfilial daughter a lesson for me.” “Because of her, the Madam and I are stuck in the hospital. Make her learn the rules.” The butler’s eyes turned fierce. After dragging me into the living room, he threw me to the floor. “You hurt the Master and Madam. Time for you to taste the family discipline.” I stood up, rubbing my sore arm, and kindly reminded him: “Hitting me brings bad luck.” “I’d like to see what kind of bad luck.” He lashed at me with a whip made of wire. Good advice is hard to give to a man seeking death. Somehow, the wire got tangled in the socket of a decorative lamp. The socket was live, and a short circuit happened instantly. I even saw blue electric sparks dancing on the butler. “Ahhhhhhh…” Servants rushed over hearing the noise, cutting the power and saving him. The butler pointed a trembling finger at me, eyes overflowing with malice. The next second, a servant’s phone, which was being used to call an ambulance, fell from the second floor and smashed directly onto his nose. It broke his nose bridge instantly. “Ah!” Another scream. The driver stood at the door, mouth gaping. “That works too?” I smiled at him. “The butler is out of commission. Who are you handing me to now?” “I think I should just show myself around.” The driver nodded dumbly. “Miss Ava, please go ahead.” Hearing the noise, Chloe walked out of her room. Our eyes met. Hers were full of disgust. “You’re the biological daughter?” “Just in time, I have a party to attend.” I smiled brightly: “That’s great.” Chloe’s expression froze, her breathing heavy with anger. I thought she was taking me to a restaurant. Unexpectedly, she brought me to a bar. Inside the private room, a group of young men and women were smoking, looking like trouble. Chloe pushed me in, the smile on her face almost solidifying. “Brothers, this is the biological daughter my parents found.” “If she’s confirmed as the real heiress, I won’t have money to treat you guys anymore. What should we do?” The leader, a guy with dyed yellow hair, smashed a beer bottle. “Daring to steal our little sister’s identity.” “We have plenty of ways to fix her. Get some nude photos, and she’ll be our dog.” Chloe crossed her arms, looking like she was ready for a show. Yellow Hair signaled his boys: “She looks pretty good. Boys, we’re eating well tonight.” Yellow Hair pulled up a girl with a numb expression from the floor. He smiled sinisterly at me: “She’s your precedent!” “Baby, talk to the new member.” The girl nodded, looking at me with empty eyes: “Be obedient like me, and you’ll suffer less.” “Otherwise, the brothers can turn you into a rag.” She pointed to a room at the end of the suite. “If you get taken in there, there won’t be anything left of you.” I looked at the half-open door, smelling something foul. I sighed and looked at Yellow Hair: “I sincerely advise you not to touch me.” “I have something magical about me. In high school, bullies tried to extort me. Before I could take out the money, they got struck by lightning.” “A college classmate didn’t like me and tried to trick me into a trap. Result? A police raid. She got arrested for procuring.” I looked at the punks and persuaded patiently: “I have a bit of bad luck on me, but one thing is certain: those who want to harm me will be ten times unluckier than me.” Yellow Hair laughed out loud. “Then I really have to see how unlucky I can get.” 3 Yellow Hair grabbed my hair, dragging me towards that separate room. The numb-eyed girl closed her eyes in fear. Chloe crossed her arms, ready to watch. But the next second. The glass door of the room shattered instantly. Countless shards exploded, piercing into Yellow Hair’s body. “Ahhhhhhh…” Screams filled the room. His lackeys weren’t spared either; some got glass in their eyes. I only got a scratch on my hand. Chloe’s eyes widened: “How is this possible?” The door was kicked open, and a group of police rushed in. “We received a report of illegal activities here.” “Don’t move! Hands on your heads, squat down!” In the end, it was proven we had nothing to do with it. Chloe and I were picked up by my biological brother, Ethan Vance. Chloe cried as soon as she saw him. “Boohoo, I just took sister out to play. I don’t know how we ended up there.” “Brother, I didn’t do anything bad to her.” Ethan, who doted on this sister since childhood, naturally comforted her a thousand times over. “Of course not you.” “Arrange a room for her first.” Chloe nodded repeatedly, but the malice in her eyes never disappeared. She led me to the third floor. Randomly pointing at a room, she said I could stay there. Before I could see where she pointed, a force came from behind and to the side. I slammed into the railing. But Chloe, who pushed me, twisted her ankle and fell backward. “Ah—” She rolled all the way down to the first floor. Ethan heard the noise and rushed over, seeing the unconscious Chloe. His hair stood on end with rage. “You… you dare do this to Chloe!” “Police! People like you belong in jail!” I spread my hands, helpless. “Brother, you might not believe it, but I didn’t do it.” “She tried to harm me, so she fell down herself.” Ethan roared at me: “You think I’ll believe that? You’re definitely jealous that Chloe replaced you for over ten years!” I was too lazy to explain further to strangers. The police arrived quickly. Very coincidentally. It was the same officer from the station I just left. He immediately checked the home surveillance. Chloe was smart; she had the servants cut the cameras before trying to harm me. But unluckily, because of the butler’s electric shock earlier, the house wiring short-circuited. The camera on the third floor coincidentally started working again. “Harming others only to harm oneself.” “This is a family dispute. Mr. Vance, do you wish to pursue this?” Ethan looked at me with fire in his eyes, but it was like punching cotton. He had nowhere to vent. He forced a smile at the officer. “Looks like a misunderstanding. Sorry for the trouble.” Judging by that smile, he hated my guts. Chloe was sent to the hospital. Diagnosis: concussion. Ethan met Mr. and Mrs. Vance at the hospital and learned why I was brought back. Thinking of the bad luck surrounding me, he decided to change tactics. “If force doesn’t work, we’ll use soft power.” “We absolutely cannot let the billionaire Mr. Sterling find Chloe.” “Why not make her publicly apologize online for the cyberbullying? That way, even if something happens, Sterling will target her first, not Chloe.” 4 The parents agreed. Ethan returned late from the hospital. This time, he wasn’t alone. He brought my best friend from high school, Mia. In high school, no one wanted to play with me because of my bad luck. Only Mia didn’t care. Every time something bad happened, she’d find a way to smooth it over. Then continue being my best friend. Later she moved, and we lost touch. I didn’t expect Ethan to find her. Mia grabbed my hand the moment she saw me, begging. “Ava, please help me. My mom is sick and hospitalized, we need a lot of money for surgery.” “Your brother said if you help him with some livestream, he’ll pay for my mom’s bills.” She cried so pitifully. My compassion was moved instantly. I knew Ethan’s plan. Scapegoat me, right? Such a big detour. Impressive. But I had no choice. It was Mia. “Fine, I’ll be the scapegoat.” “As long as you’re happy.” Mia froze. “What scapegoat?” “Didn’t he just ask you to do a livestream?” Before Mia could ask more, Ethan’s men grabbed her. Covered her mouth. “We set up the phone. Remember to admit to cyberbullying the billionaire heiress, Tiffany Sterling.” “After the stream, we’ll let your friend go.” Mia’s eyes widened. She bit the hand covering her mouth and shouted at me: “No!” “Ava, I don’t want the money! Don’t admit it!” “You’ll be cursed to death, retaliated against!” “You can’t mess with these people!” I pursed my lips helplessly: “But your mom needs treatment.” “My family has no money, but they do.” “It’s just a livestream. Let’s do it.” Ethan had Mia gagged, afraid she’d sway me. My disgust for him was deeper than for the other Vances. They didn’t know how to use soft knives like he did. Livestream on. Ethan bought a lot of bots to flood the room. He even prepared a script for me to read. “I, the eldest daughter of the Vance family, publicly apologize today.” “I cyberbullied Tiffany Sterling, spreading rumors about her chaotic private life with male celebrities, cheating…” Ethan listened, his smile widening. The bots attracted a large number of real viewers. Hearing “cyberbullying,” the audience stayed to curse me. [Shameless! Hate you cyberbullies. Jealousy is ugly.] [Women really are the worst enemies of successful women.] [Why don’t you die? Tiffany is such a good girl, now getting hate because of you.] [Streamer, my hands are itching. I want your address to pay you a visit.] Ethan was engrossed in the comments, unknowingly walking towards my phone stand. There were lights on both sides, wires crisscrossing the floor. He stepped on one without noticing. Next second, he rolled like a bowling ball towards the equipment. The unplugged wires, due to some uncontrollable factor, spiraled around him. Starting from the neck, round after round. Strangling him until his eyes rolled back and tongue stuck out. “Help…” “Save…”

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The night before my wedding, I walked in on my fiancé and my sister having sex. When the truth came out, everyone urged me to step aside. My mother said, “Since Chloe and Caleb love each other, just let them be together. Be the bigger person, give Caleb to your sister.” My father added, “Enough, Sarah. We’re all family. Don’t be so petty.” Even my fiancé just kept his head down, silent. I didn’t scream. I didn’t fight. That very night, I packed my bags and left New York. Before I walked out the door, my mother threw her final threat: “If you leave today, we are disowning you. Don’t ever come back! We won’t care if you live or die. Don’t expect us to collect your body if you die out there!” I didn’t look back. “Fine. Consider me disowned.” After that day, the wedding went on as planned. Only the bride had changed. I didn’t return home for six full years. … Until six years later, when I returned to New York. After the military commendation ceremony, I ran into Caleb Vance again. “Long time no see, Sarah Miller.” I was walking out of the base when a familiar male voice stopped me. I looked up and met his eyes. Six years hadn’t aged him; he looked even more handsome. White shirt, dark jeans, a black trench coat. His hair was cut short and sharp, his posture straight as he quietly watched me. “Long time no see,” I replied with a polite smile. Caleb seemed stunned by my calm tone. After a moment, he spoke slowly, “Mom and Dad know you’re back in New York for the ceremony. They prepared dinner at home. Come back and eat with us tonight.” “Mom and Dad”—he meant my parents. I nodded. “Okay. It’s been six years. It’s time to go back.” Seeing my agreement, he turned and led the way. An hour later, my modified Jeep pulled up to the entrance of the Happiness Gardens complex. The rugged vehicle looked out of place in this old, worn-down neighborhood. I stepped out, looking toward what used to be home. Six years. The old alleys were gone, replaced by high-rise apartments. The corner store was now a chain supermarket. The willow tree at the intersection had vanished. I walked forward, surrounded by strangers. Even Mr. Sun, the old neighbor, had moved away. Finally, I reached unit 502 in Building 3. I rang the bell. The door opened. My mother stood there in a grease-stained apron. Her once-black hair was now streaked with gray. She froze when she saw me. I broke the silence. “Mom.” She snapped out of it, staring at her youngest daughter—standing tall in a crisp military uniform, radiating confidence. Her voice trembled. “Sarah… you’re back. Come, come in.” Compared to her nervousness and excitement, I remained calm. I changed into slippers and walked inside. The once dark and cramped living room was now spacious and bright. The sofa was clean, the coffee table uncluttered, and fresh lilies bloomed in a vase. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the display cabinet flanking the TV. It was still filled with my sister Chloe’s awards, from childhood to adulthood. Just then, my father walked out of the kitchen carrying a plate of roast chicken. He smiled awkwardly when he saw me. “You’re back. Dad saved the drumsticks for you today.” Growing up, whenever we had chicken, the drumsticks were always Chloe’s. There were two drumsticks, but both went to her. I replied, “No thanks. The military has strict dietary regulations right now. I can’t eat outside food. I’ll just sit for a bit.” A flicker of embarrassment crossed my father’s eyes. Hearing the commotion, Caleb and my sister, Chloe Miller, came out of the kitchen. Chloe wore her hair in a low bun, gold-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. Dressed in a white knit sweater and a camel trench coat, she exuded a mature, feminine charm. When she saw me, her gaze shifted unnaturally. Dinner was awkward. I barely ate two bites. I sat at the table like a stranger, listening to the four of them talk about people I didn’t know and things I didn’t care about. When they were almost done, I checked my watch and stood up. “It’s getting late. I should go.” My mother immediately spoke up. “Aren’t you staying? We haven’t seen you in so many years. Stay the night, let’s talk.” I asked calmly, “Is there a room for me?” Our old home had three rooms. One for my parents, one for my sister, and one rented out. I slept in the living room. My mother seemed to recall the past, embarrassment flashing in her eyes. “In this new apartment, Mom saved a room just for you.” “The sheets and covers are brand new. I just washed them.” Facing her olive branch, I simply shook my head. “No need. The military arranged housing for me.” I picked up my coat and turned to leave. 1 The next day, I spent the morning visiting a few local scenic spots. In the afternoon, as I was leaving the temple, I received a call from my mother. I hesitated for a moment before answering. “Sarah,” her voice came through the receiver, “you didn’t eat much the other day. Was the food not to your liking?” “Your dad booked a table at a nice restaurant for tonight. Let’s have dinner together, okay?” In my memory, my mother had never spoken to me with such a pleading tone. It was always demands and accusations. Thinking of the gray in her hair, I agreed. “Okay. I’ll be there.” I hung up and headed to the restaurant. When I walked into the private room, I paused. Besides my parents, Caleb, and Chloe, there was a stranger—a man. Seeing me enter, my mother quickly stood up and pulled me to sit next to her. I asked, “I thought this was a family dinner? Who is this?” Chloe spoke up. “Sarah, this is a colleague from Caleb’s Go club. He’s single.” “He’s a 6-dan professional Go player. Very talented and hardworking.” “We thought we’d take this chance to introduce you two. If you settle down early, Mom and Dad can rest easy.” My father added, “It doesn’t have to work out. Just making a friend. When you come back to New York, you can hang out.” As soon as he finished, the man smiled at me. “Miss Miller, hello. I’m Jason Rivers. I heard you’re in the military. Female soldiers are impressive. Can I get your number? Let’s get to know each other.” I understood immediately. They set me up on a blind date. Six years of no contact, and the first thing they do is try to arrange my marriage. I looked at Jason sitting opposite me. Average looks, thin build. His entire outfit cost less than one of my necklaces. I spoke slowly. “Mr. Rivers, since this is a blind date, let’s get straight to the point.” “Do you own property within the Second Ring Road? Did you drive here? What car? Is it fully paid off? Do you have savings? How many figures? Any debt? And… as a professional player, how many championships have you won?” Jason was stunned by the barrage of questions. He stammered, unable to speak. The others at the table were equally shocked. “Uh… I just remembered I have something to do at the club… I’ll go first.” Jason stood up awkwardly, grabbed his coat, muttered a goodbye, and fled. After he left, Chloe looked at me with displeasure. “Sarah, how could you be so blunt? Who asks questions like that? You scared him off. Who will dare to date you now?” I remained calm. “Isn’t asking about conditions the point of a blind date?” I swept my gaze over everyone, finally resting on my mother. “Mom, do you know how much I make a year now?” My mother murmured something unintelligible. “I’m a Major General now. The salary isn’t astronomical, but my savings are a hundred times his. Money isn’t an issue.” “The Jeep I drove home cost a million dollars. I have five properties in New York and three in Shanghai.” I pointed to the necklace around my neck. “And this… Chloe, your lifetime salary probably couldn’t buy it.” Leaving them in shock and Chloe with an ugly expression, I stood up. “I remember Mom once said: a woman’s class is determined by her husband’s class.” “Mom, Dad, Chloe… arranging a man who is clearly beneath me… what exactly are you trying to do?” “Is it really for my own good? Or can you just not stand to see me doing better than you?” I didn’t want to say more. I turned and left. Some time later, my phone rang again. It was Caleb. “Sarah, do you want ice cream today?” It was our secret code. Years ago, when we were secretly dating in high school, we used this code to meet up without teachers knowing. After we officially got together at eighteen, we kept using it. Whenever we fought, if one of us said this, it meant they wanted a truce. Caleb held his breath, waiting. “No! Don’t call me asking these questions. We should keep our distance.” “I don’t want people misunderstanding that I’m messing with a married man.” I hung up immediately. Just as I was about to turn off my phone, a WeChat message popped up from Chloe. [Sarah Miller, you still hate me, don’t you?] [You said all that today on purpose, right? Showing off how well you’re doing? Trying to make Caleb regret it?] [If you don’t have those intentions, then get married soon. It’ll give everyone peace of mind.] I didn’t reply. I turned off my phone, tossed it aside, and started packing for my return to the Shanghai base tomorrow. 2 Daxing International Airport. I dressed low-key, wearing sunglasses and a mask as I arrived at the terminal. From a distance, I saw my parents, Caleb, and Chloe standing there. Maybe due to blood ties, my parents recognized me instantly. “Sarah!” I frowned. “Why are you here?” “Chloe said you’re heading back to Shanghai today. We came to see you off.” My mother looked awkward. “About yesterday… we didn’t think it through. It won’t happen again.” My father added, “Yes, come home often.” They were always like this. Make a mistake, promise never again, and then do it again next time. Caleb looked at me, wanting to say something. “Sarah…” I checked my phone and interrupted him. “You didn’t need to come. Someone is picking me up.” Chloe’s tone was sharp. “You haven’t been back in six years. You have no friends here. Who’s picking you up?” As soon as she finished, a voice called out from behind me. “Mama!” They all looked. A little white dumpling of a girl was running toward me. Behind her followed a man in a dark blue pilot’s uniform. The little girl threw herself into my arms. “Mama, Papa and I flew a plane to pick you up!” They froze. I bent down, picked her up, and planted a big kiss on her soft cheek. “Was Annie good at home? Did you listen to Papa? Did you miss Mama every day?” Annie wrapped her arms around my neck and nodded vigorously. “I was good! I listened to Papa! I missed Mama every day!” Watching my daughter, my heart melted. Chloe recovered first. She frowned at the child in my arms. “Sarah Miller, is this really your child? When did you get married?” I didn’t hide it. “Four years ago.” My mother couldn’t help but ask, “Why didn’t you tell the family about such a big thing? Who is the father?” Just then, the man in the pilot’s uniform stepped forward. He took my arm and addressed them. “Mom, Dad, hello. I’m Sarah’s husband, Liam Chen. I’m a captain for New City Airlines.” “Because of Sarah’s job, we kept the marriage private. I apologize for not visiting sooner.” He took the child from my arms. “Annie, these are your grandparents, uncle, and aunt. Say hello.” Annie waved her little hand. “Hello Grandpa, Grandma, Uncle, Auntie.” “I’m Annie Chen. I’m three years old.” My parents hurriedly responded. “Oh, hello, hello. Annie is so well-behaved.” “Grandma didn’t prepare a gift. Next time you come to Beijing, Grandma will cook something good for you, okay?” Annie nodded. “Okay!” Caleb’s eyes were glued to me, not missing a single expression. But my attention was entirely on my child and Liam. I didn’t even look at him. Chloe watched my family of three, and her tense shoulders finally relaxed. My mother reached out to hug the child, but I spoke up. “It’s getting late. We have to go.” My mother retracted her hand awkwardly. “Alright, go ahead. Text us when you get home.” Liam nodded. “We will. Mom, Dad, take care.” “Annie, say bye-bye.” Annie waved. “Bye-bye Grandpa, Grandma, Uncle, Auntie.” We turned and walked away. Back in Shanghai, my work at the base continued to be busy. Two weeks later, my assistant told me a man was looking for me at the base. I was surprised to see Caleb. “What are you doing here?” Caleb hesitated. “Can we talk alone?” My assistant sensibly left. Once we were alone, Caleb looked at me. “Sarah, I’m going to divorce Chloe.” “I admit it. I regret it.” I froze. “Caleb Vance, do you know what you’re saying?” He nodded earnestly. “Sarah, I regretted it a long time ago.” “Back then, I was arrogant. I thought as a genius Go player, my partner should be equally ‘excellent.’ I thought I should choose someone on my wavelength.” “So I chose your sister. At first, we were in sync. We thought alike, worked with the same intensity. Even our personalities were similar.” “We were happy. But gradually, I got tired. She wouldn’t comfort me when I lost a match like you did; she’d analyze my mistakes. She wouldn’t bow her head first in a fight; I always had to be the one to apologize.” “I started missing how it was with you. But I had no reason to find you. It was my choice. I had to live with it.” “I was ready to accept my fate. But then you came back.” “I thought I forgot you. But seeing you in that uniform… I found that feeling again. That’s when I knew. I regret it.” He exhaled deeply. “I meant to say this the day you left Beijing, but… there was an accident.” “Sarah, will you give me another chance?” I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Caleb, are you crazy?” “I’m married. I have a child. Give you a chance? If you have problems with Chloe, solve them yourself. Don’t drag me into it.” “Don’t ever say these things again. I’m happy now. I don’t want trouble, I don’t want to reminisce, and I don’t want to be misunderstood.” “Leave. Pretend you never said this, and I never heard it.” “I have work to do.” I walked past him. He grabbed my wrist. His eyes were red, voice hoarse. “Sarah, can you really not forgive me?” Under his pleading gaze, I slowly pulled my hand back. “Caleb. Let go.” I shook him off and walked away. Caleb stood there, watching me leave, a mist filling his eyes. The old Sarah would have been heartbroken to see him shed a single tear. Now, she only had impatience. 3 That night, I was in the car with my husband and daughter, heading back from dinner at my mother-in-law’s. I fell asleep against the window. A sharp ringtone woke me. It was Chloe. I answered quickly to not wake Annie. “What?” Chloe’s accusatory voice came through. “Is Caleb with you?” I frowned. “No.” Silence on the other end. Then: “I checked his flight records. He flew to Shanghai yesterday. He didn’t go see you?” “Sarah Miller, you came back just to steal him, didn’t you?” I was shocked. “Chloe, you and Caleb are truly a match made in heaven. You both say the most insane things.” “He did come to find me today. Said a bunch of nonsense and left. If you want him, call him. I don’t want to be involved in your messy marriage.” “My daughter is sleeping. Bye.” I hung up. Liam, driving, asked, “Your sister?” “Yeah,” I said. “Caleb came to the base today. Said he regrets everything, plans to divorce her, spouted a lot of weird stuff.” Liam’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “And… what do you think?” Hearing the tension in his voice, I smiled. “I kicked him out, of course. What does his regret have to do with me? Captain Chen, can you have a little more confidence in yourself and me? Am I that fickle? Plus, our daughter is so cute. I’m not giving up this happy life.” Liam’s lips curved up. But he sighed deliberately. “But Caleb is a genius player. I’m just a pilot. No fame, less money. Am I embarrassing you?” I pinched his cheek. “Hubby, you underestimate yourself. With a face like that, what are you afraid of? Don’t worry, your wife is rich. I can support you forever. Just let me keep you.” Liam laughed, grabbing my hand and kissing my palm. “Okay. I’ll happily be a kept man then.” 4 Caleb returned to his Beijing home late at night. A single floor lamp lit the living room. Chloe sat on the sofa, phone in hand, the screen light casting shadows on her face. “You’re back?” Her voice was calm. “Yeah.” Caleb bent to change his shoes. The winter chill clung to him, but his heart burned from the conversation with me. “Where did you go?” Chloe put down her phone, eyes following him. “…Shanghai.” He hesitated but told the truth. The air solidified. “To see Sarah?” Her voice dropped. Caleb didn’t speak, a silent admission. He poured a glass of water, fingers trembling slightly. “What did you go to her for?” Chloe stood up, anger finally seeping into her voice. “Didn’t you chat enough at the restaurant? Or did you need to continue in Shanghai?” “Chloe!” Caleb turned, slamming the cup down. “Can you stop talking like that?” “How should I talk?” She stepped closer, red veins visible behind her glasses. “Should I smile and ask if you had fun with my sister? Ask if you reminisced about the past?” “Enough!” Caleb took a deep breath. “Chloe, let’s get a divorce.” The living room went dead silent. Chloe looked like she’d been punched. Shock, then disbelief and pain. “What… did you say?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I said, let’s divorce.” Caleb looked away. “Our problems aren’t new. I thought if I worked hard, we could make it. But I was wrong. We… aren’t right for each other.” “Not right?” Chloe repeated, then laughed bitterly. “Six years, Caleb. Now you say we’re not right? Who said we were a perfect match? Who said it was destiny?” “I was wrong back then!” Caleb’s voice rose, eyes reddening. “I was naive. I thought matching personalities and careers meant love. But life isn’t a game of Go! I want warmth, tolerance, someone I can lean on! Not a referee who points out my every mistake!” “Yes, you’re excellent, a top lawyer. But you give me more pressure than warmth! When I lose, you analyze my errors instead of comforting me! When we fight, I always have to bow first! You’re always so calm, so correct! I’m sick of it!” Chloe stared at him, as if seeing him for the first time. She opened her mouth but no sound came out. “I regret it,” Caleb let the tears fall, wiping them angrily. “Chloe, I regret my choice. seeing Sarah so happy, seeing how much her husband and child love her… I can’t help but think, if I hadn’t been so vain, if I hadn’t been blinded by ‘compatibility’… would the person standing beside her, being treated so gently, be me?” “So,” Chloe’s voice rasped like sandpaper, “you want to divorce me because of her?” Caleb was silent for a few seconds. He nodded, then shook his head. “Not entirely. But… seeing her made me realize what I really want. And it made me realize… there’s no love left between us. Only habit.” Chloe didn’t speak. She lowered her head, shoulders shaking. Caleb thought she was angry. But when he prepared to continue, he heard a soft, suppressed sob. He froze. Chloe… was crying? The Chloe who was always calm, composed, never showing weakness… was crying like a child. Silent, but devastated. It was the first time he’d seen her cry. Caleb’s heart clenched. The harsh words died in his throat. “…Chloe?” She didn’t look up. She wiped her face hard. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse. “I’m sorry.” Caleb was stunned. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, finally looking at him with red eyes. “I… didn’t do enough. I only thought about us being excellent… I forgot to ask if you were tired.” Tears flowed again. “Caleb, don’t… don’t mention divorce now, okay? It’s almost New Year’s. Mom and Dad are old, they can’t take it. At least… wait until after the holidays?” She was begging. Looking at this fragile stranger, Caleb’s mind was a mess. Anger and resolve receded like the tide, leaving only confusion and… pity. He nodded. “Okay. Before New Year’s… I won’t bring it up.” Chloe seemed relieved, yet heavier. She looked at him deeply, then turned to the bedroom. “Rest early.” That night, they lay in the same bed, separated by an invisible, icy river. In the dark, Chloe spoke. “Caleb.” “…Yeah?” “Let’s have a baby.” Caleb stiffened. “Maybe… with a child, everything will be different.” Her voice was soft, hopeful. “We’ll be more like a family. I’ll learn… to be a good mother, and a better wife.” But in Caleb’s mind, the image of the little white dumpling in Shanghai airport surfaced. Her smile, her voice calling “Mama.” And the overflowing tenderness in Sarah’s eyes when she looked at him. That was the love and family he imagined. “…No,” he heard himself say dryly. “Not now. I… I’m not ready.” Beside him, Chloe’s breath hitched. After a long time, a faint sigh. “Sleep.”

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My childhood sweetheart’s family believed that boys should be raised in poverty to build character. So, Lucas lived in a run-down apartment, eating nothing but plain bread and pickled vegetables. I couldn’t bear it and secretly helped him out. But Lucas thought I was chasing him. He rejected me with a cold face: “I don’t need your charity, and I won’t accept your pursuit. Give up.” Disappointed, I gave up and consciously kept my distance from him. It wasn’t until after high school graduation, when Lucas got accepted into a top college, that he found out his family was actually loaded. He completely changed his attitude and started hovering around me every day. His friend was confused: “Bro, didn’t you hate her?” Lucas: “Who said that?” “Your bro has money now, I must shower her with it!” Me: ? 1 “Bro, she’s here again.” I stood at the door of Lucas’s classroom, holding a lunchbox. Enduring the teasing, joking, and mocking stares of everyone around, I waited for Lucas to come out. Hearing his classmate’s reminder, Lucas indeed pulled himself out of his sea of textbooks and looked up at me. He froze for a second, then frowned fiercely. It was the long break between classes, and people were coming and going. I felt a bit embarrassed, so I reached out and waved at him. The implication was: Hurry up and come out. Lucas’s classmate teased me: “Isn’t this Chloe from Class 4? Bringing food for our bro again?” “What are you saying? Why call her classmate? She’s clearly our bro’s…” A burst of laughter erupted. I didn’t understand what they were laughing at; I just anxiously called Lucas out. This was the food I specifically asked our family’s cook, Maria, to prepare. All the flavors Lucas liked. Seeing my face getting redder, Lucas finally got up and came out. He impatiently dispersed the onlookers and pulled me into the stairwell. I presented the lunchbox to him like a treasure. “Lucas, didn’t you say the ribs were good last time? I brought you a lot this time.” Lucas stared at me expressionlessly. I shrank back a bit, feeling inexplicably nervous. To be fair, Lucas had a very aggressive look. Especially when he wasn’t smiling, his face looked even fiercer. I didn’t know how I had offended him, so I could only test the waters carefully: “Lucas, are you angry?” Lucas stared at my face for a moment and suddenly said: “Chloe, why do you always bring me food? I can swipe my own card and eat in the cafeteria.” I thought about it and smiled: “The cafeteria food is too salty and greasy. Eating too much of it is bad for your health. The food at my house is evaluated by a nutritionist; it’s better for you.” Lucas’s face suddenly turned ugly. I looked at the prominent bones on his hands and suddenly felt a bit of heartache. I held his hand and said: “Your parents are busy with work, and you always skimp on your meals. Look, you’re getting so thin.” The next second, Lucas suddenly shook off my hand. “You’d better not bring me food anymore.” 2 Lucas left. My lunchbox accidentally spilled all over the floor. The strict Dean of Students passed by, saw it, and gave me a harsh scolding. He made me write a reflection paper and clean up the floor spotless. My eyes burned a little, but I held back my tears. By the time I finished cleaning, class had already started. I didn’t know why Lucas suddenly got mad. But I figured something I said must have accidentally angered him. Did he not want to be teased by his classmates? Or was he tired of the food? Thinking about it, I decided to ask him carefully after school tonight. After the last class, I waited for Lucas at the school gate. He wore a clean school uniform, his back straight. Seeing him, my eyes lit up. “Lucas, let’s go home together, okay?” Saying that, I pointed to the new black SUV my dad just bought. Lucas’s gaze swept over my family’s car from front to back, then returned to me. “No need, I’ll ride my bike home.” The bike Lucas pointed to was an old, rusty one. Who knows where his dad got it. It was covered in rust and rattled loudly when ridden. I quickly grabbed his hand. Half begging, half forcing: “Come on, come on, my car is faster. Don’t you want to get home sooner?” Lucas’s brow furrowed, suppressing his anger. “Chloe, don’t you have your own things to do?” His voice wasn’t loud. But it was enough to stun me. What… does he mean by this? I just wanted a chance to talk to him. His class was the honors class; the workload was heavy. Plus, Lucas loved studying so much he didn’t even stop doing practice problems during breaks. I simply didn’t have much time to talk to him. But Lucas didn’t give me a second chance to speak. He walked straight towards his small bicycle. Leaving me with only a cold back. The questions I wanted to ask blocked my throat; not a single word popped out. I cursed him silently in my heart: “Stupid Lucas, why are you being so cold!” 3 Lucas and I are childhood sweethearts; we played together since we were little. It’s just that the distance between our two homes was a bit far now. Every time I went to play with him, I had to sit in the car for a long, long time. Originally, our families lived in adjacent mansions. But when Lucas was five, his dad decided to raise him in poverty. My parents tried hard to stop him at the time. But Lucas’s dad said resolutely: “Boys must be raised poor. We must temper their will and train their bodies from a young age, so they can endure hardship and exhaustion.” So, five-year-old Lucas moved away. Moved to a very small, very dark apartment. I had been to that apartment; it was a bare concrete room. It was already in a sunless location, and the dim lighting made it look like a giant animal cage. It was suffocating. And Lucas spent over a decade growing up in such a small, cramped room. Even his food, clothing, and transportation were extremely strained. I didn’t understand. There are many ways to teach a kid the value of hard work. Why did his dad have to create such an extreme environment? Later, I heard my parents say that Lucas originally had an older brother. Because of some setbacks in relationships and work, he took his own life. Lucas’s dad attributed the reason to a fragile inner world. So he insisted on having a second child with his wife, and Lucas was born. My parents specifically warned me never to tell Lucas about this. Otherwise, his dad would be unhappy. I could only nod and agree. But I couldn’t help pitying Lucas. He was supposed to be a privileged child, yet he was forced to grow up in a small room with extremely poor lighting. And knowing the truth, I could only stand by and watch. The feeling of knowing the truth but not being able to speak was too torturous. So I could only quietly be good to Lucas in my own way. When we were little, I would save half of my snacks for him. As we grew older, I always invited him to play at my house. Lucas was very cute every time he accepted with a blushing face. Later, slowly moving into middle school, Lucas rarely came to me. I didn’t mind too much, just thinking he didn’t want to travel so far to see me. So I frequently stuck to him. Habit is a scary thing. With hindsight, I realized I seemed to have fallen for Lucas. He was good-looking and had good grades. Although usually taciturn, he was special to me. Falling for him was inevitable. I silently decided in my heart: after the college entrance exams, I would confess to him. After all, Lucas seemed to like me a little bit too. But now, I started to waver. Does Lucas… really like me? 4 The next day was the weekend. My mom said we were going to eat with Lucas’s family. Just like usual. We chose an ordinary restaurant. After entering the private room, I greeted Mr. and Mrs. Miller. They still kept up their act perfectly. Wearing worn-out clothes from head to toe. I smiled politely and sat next to my mom. While the adults were chatting, I saw a bottle of loquat juice on the table. I offered proactively: “Mrs. Miller, isn’t Lucas allergic to loquats? I’ll ask the waiter to change the water.” Mrs. Miller said subconsciously: “Lucas? He’s not allergic.” The smile on my face suddenly froze. Before I could speak again, Lucas came back from the restroom. I sat back down, but my thoughts were a tangled mess. Last week the temperature dropped. I noticed Lucas coughing non-stop for days, so I brought homemade loquat syrup from home and put it on his desk when no one was around. I even attached a sticky note: “This works really well, give it a try.” But the next day, he put the unopened bottle of loquat syrup back on my desk. I confusedly asked him why. Lucas’s tone was as flat as if he were talking about the weather: “Thanks. But I’m allergic to loquats. Don’t trouble yourself in the future.” My thoughts returned. I felt a bit lost. He clearly wasn’t allergic, why wouldn’t he accept my goodwill? I looked up at Lucas. He wasn’t looking at me, his face still flat. But I knew him. Lucas was unhappy right now. I couldn’t figure it out, and didn’t know how to ask. At the dinner table, the topic somehow turned to the two of us, soon-to-be high school graduates. Lucas’s dad asked me where I wanted to go for college. I subconsciously looked at Lucas. But Lucas shifted his gaze away. My heart swelled, and I lowered my head feeling a bit lonely. I answered: “Anywhere is fine. If possible, I still want to be with Lucas.” I didn’t dare to look up at Lucas’s face. But I heard his dad joke about how close Lucas and I were. We used to be close, indeed. But now, I wasn’t so sure. I felt like I couldn’t read Lucas anymore. His dad asked Lucas what he thought. I heard him say: “Everyone has their own path to walk, just focus on yourself.” My heart felt like it was pricked by a needle. It wasn’t anger, but a profound sense of powerlessness. That sentence seemed specifically directed at me. Lucas was telling me: he didn’t want to be with me. 5 The next day, I woke up with red, swollen eyes. On the nightstand lay two pairs of wool gloves. The weather was getting cold now; he must be freezing riding his bike to school. That’s why I bought them to give to him. Thinking about it, I had already bought them, I might as well give them to him. During the familiar long break, I packed the gift box, preparing to give it to Lucas. Just as I reached the door of his classroom, I heard Lucas chatting with someone else. “Bro, you got another love letter, so jealous.” “If you ask me, this subtle way is the best. That Chloe from Class 4 runs over here every day, like a simp.” “Tell me about it, Bro is sick to death of her, and she still keeps forcing her stuff on him.” “If Bro wasn’t trying to protect the little girl’s self-esteem, he would have rejected her ages ago.” “Exactly, Bro’s most important task right now is studying. We’re counting on him to get into an Ivy League. Who has the mind to deal with Chloe’s pursuit.” I stood blankly at the back door of the classroom. Listening to their words land word by word. But through it all, Lucas never said a single word. Was that tacit agreement? I do like Lucas. But I also know now is not the time to date. Even if I were to pursue him, it would be after the college entrance exams. What I’m doing now is just trying to make Lucas’s life a tiny bit better. What gives him the right to assume I’m pursuing him. I was so angry my eyes turned red, but I couldn’t say a single word. If I had known… I should have just cursed them out. Just then, someone noticed me. Alerted by a classmate, Lucas slowly turned his head and saw me. The moment he saw my tears clearly, he immediately rushed out. I didn’t want to see Lucas in this embarrassing moment. So I ran towards the garden downstairs without looking back. But Lucas chased after me. He grabbed my wrist. “Chloe, what’s wrong.” 6 I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to cry, biting my lip hard. Lucas took out a tissue to wipe my tears. “Don’t cry, what happened.” After saying that, Lucas looked down and glimpsed my gift box. His face sank a bit: “What’s this, another gift for me?” Only then did I realize I was still holding the wool gloves. I exhaled heavily, just wanting to give him the item quickly and leave. “Here, for you. You can wear them when you ride your bike.” But Lucas didn’t take them. He looked at me quietly, his tone indifferent: “I have gloves. Whatever I use is the same.” I bit my lip, looking at his face. I just felt he was so unfamiliar. My heart felt like it was gripped tightly; I couldn’t breathe. The things I treasured and put my heart into, in his eyes, were totally unnecessary. Until this moment, I finally felt it clearly. The gap between Lucas’s and my understanding of our relationship was like a chasm. After a few seconds of silence, I asked in a choked voice: “Lucas, why do you always reject me? Weren’t we fine before?” Lucas frowned, staring at my face. After a long while, he asked in confusion: “So, are you really pursuing me?” I opened my mouth, just about to explain. But was interrupted by Lucas. He rejected me righteously: “I don’t need your charity, and I won’t accept your pursuit. Give up.” My eyes instantly widened. Charity? Charity! The goodness I had shown him for so long, in his eyes, was just charity and pity? My sincere, unrequited goodwill was actually seen by him as blatant relief?! So that was it. The goodness I thought I was showing was actually hurting his self-esteem all the time. No wonder when our families ate together, only Lucas had a tight face. No wonder every time I invited him to play at my house, Lucas would awkwardly refuse. No wonder when I casually helped him buy study guides, he insisted on shoving those few crumpled dollar bills into my hand. I suddenly didn’t know whether to be angry or find it laughable. I looked at Lucas with complex eyes. Then nodded calmly. “Okay, I understand.” “I won’t bother you anymore.”

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My mom is the deeply devoted second female lead in a romance novel. Even after being forced into a political marriage with my dad, she still chases after the male lead every day. The male lead and his punk younger brother mock her: “A big simp gave birth to a little simp.” My mom gets alert: “What do you mean?” The punk smirks: “Your daughter, trying to chase me, saved the fifty thousand dollars allowance you gave her to recharge my game account. She was so hungry at noon she only ate a hot dog bun.” “She also said she wants to be like you—even if she’s forced to marry someone else, she’ll never forget me! She’ll even steal her husband’s secret stash to support me!” My mom: “!” Chasing men is paused; beating up the punk is now in session. Even the male lead got slapped twice when he tried to intervene. Later, my mom stopped chasing the male lead, afraid she’d lead me astray. But she couldn’t help calling him every night at 2 or 3 AM: “Are you asleep yet?” “Why isn’t that punk brother of yours dead yet?” “I can’t sleep until he’s dead.” Male Lead: “?” 1 Since I was born, the number of times I’ve seen my mom can be counted on one hand. Because she is the deeply devoted second female lead in a book. Destined to spend her life chasing after the male lead. So. Right after giving birth to me, as soon as she could walk, she took a taxi overnight to find the male lead. Driving my dad crazy. A perfectly good CEO of a listed company, waking up early and staying up late every day to feed me and change my diapers. He even carried me on his back during meetings. Halfway through a meeting. I wailed. Dad stopped helplessly, skillfully took out a bottle to feed me. Stunning his subordinates. Are stay-at-home dads this competitive now? Not wanting to be outdone, they all carried their babies to work the next day. For a while, the conference room was filled with crying and feeding sounds. Dad knew his subordinates misunderstood. But he was too embarrassed to explain. Explain what? Say his wife is busy chasing another man and has no time to take care of the kid? How humiliating. But soon, this juicy gossip from a wealthy family spread like wildfire. Everyone started pitying this man with dark circles under his eyes, eighty alarms set on his phone, and a desk piled with parenting books. Wife doesn’t love him, kid loves to cry. Tsk tsk tsk. Pitiful. But Dad had no time for self-pity. Reviewing documents while coaxing me to sleep, busy as a bee. 2 When I started kindergarten. Dad finally relaxed a bit. At least he could focus on work during the day. But I gradually revealed the simp genes inherited from my mom. Coming home from school every day crying to Dad: “Why does Timmy like the class beauty and not me?” “I even did a backflip for him.” “I did his homework, got him water, bought him snacks, almost went to the bathroom for him! He still doesn’t like me! He only knows how to chase the class beauty!” “Dad, can you arrange an arranged marriage for us?” “Forget it, I’m afraid like you, even after having a kid, he won’t look at me once.” “Boohoo, what if the person I like doesn’t like me? I’m so pitiful, I’m like a clown.” Dad: “…” Even someone looking for trouble couldn’t say such things. Although it poked Dad’s sore spot. He still patiently explained to me: “Liking someone is everyone’s right.” “You can’t force love.” “Learn to respect others’ choices.” “Loving yourself is the most important thing.” I pretended to understand, nodding obediently. The next day, I switched to simping for someone else. I feel terrible if I don’t simp for a day. And I see Dad educating me so logically. Actually, he is a huge simp too. On the surface, he pretends not to care that Mom doesn’t love him. In reality, he hides under the covers every night and cries secretly. Headphones looping “She Doesn’t Love Me.” Phone and computer albums full of Mom’s photos. The safe is full of love letters he dare not send. From kindergarten to now, over 3000 letters. Mom got tired of chasing the male lead and finally came home once. Dad skipped work. Sped home at 110 mph to cook for Mom. Usually, he sends WeChat messages to greet her: “Today’s temperature dropped 1 degree compared to yesterday, remember to wear an extra layer.” “Coming home for dinner today, wifey?” “Tired of chasing Jason, right? Why not invite him home for dinner together.” “…” “Actually, I can sleep in the guest room, you two can share a bed.” So humble. Mom never replied to a single message. Dad takes it in stride: “I checked, your mom’s zodiac sign just hates replying to messages.” Me: “…” When it comes to simping. Dad is still superior. 3 You ask how I was born. Of course, it was an accident within an accident. Mom had a breakdown chasing the guy, couldn’t take it anymore, and planned to drug the male lead, Jason. But she is an honest woman, never done anything so rebellious. When Jason was about to drink. Her conscience kicked in, she snatched it back and gulped it down herself. After drinking, she pushed Jason out, locked the door, and sent Dad the address. In the end, Dad benefited. Dad didn’t know Mom took drugs, thought her initiative was because heaven rewards the faithful. His silent love was finally seen by her. She finally changed her mind and was willing to accept him. Result? Early the next morning. Mom pulled up her skirt and denied everything, leaving Dad curled in the corner crying. After crying, continued WeChatting Mom: “Coming home for dinner, wifey?” Later, when he learned Mom was pregnant. Dad cried again. Of course, tears of joy. He thought his suffering was over. After all, a child is the bond of a couple. Even if she doesn’t love him, with a child, would Mom still have the heart to run out every day? Facts proved Mom is a ruthless woman. Eight months pregnant, still chasing the male lead with a brisk stride. Scared Dad into assigning ten bodyguards to her. Carrying her every day to see Jason. Jason, afraid the female lead would misunderstand, shut Mom out. Mom is also stubborn. Squatting at his door, refusing to leave. Even when it rained. Said Jason was soft-hearted. Don’t know if Jason was soft-hearted. But it broke Dad’s heart. Secretly called Jason, saying Mom was pregnant and couldn’t be in the rain and wind, asking if he could let her sit inside. Jason refused: “What does your wife’s pregnancy have to do with me?” Dad gritted his teeth: “I’ll give you ten percentage points on the next project.” Jason: “Deal!” So Mom, with her big belly, followed by ten bodyguards carrying a pile of clothes, shoes, and food bought for Jason, marched into the male lead’s house. The female lead is also generous. Seeing Mom pitiful like this, poured her hot water. Mom sniffled: “Actually, I’m not here to break you up, I’m here to join you.” “Can you not chase me away? I can cook for you two.” “You sleep on the bed, I can sleep under the bed.” “Just let me see Jason every day…” Then she looked at Jason tearfully: “Luckily the person not being loved is me. If it were you, so painful, how much my heart would ache.” This earth-shattering simp speech shocked even the female lead: “If I dared say this, my best friend would have a UFC fight with me.” 4 And I, inherited all the genetic dregs of my parents. Famous for simping at school. Teachers called Dad every few days: “Your child bought everything in the school store today, said it was for the school hunk.” “Can you discuss with her, leave me a cup of instant noodles? I haven’t eaten all day.” Dad was worried. Couldn’t scold, couldn’t beat. Didn’t dare tell his wife, could only reduce my allowance. With no money, I secretly called Mom. She actually didn’t completely ignore me. Sent me living expenses every day, messaged about my well-being: “How tall have you grown?” “What did you get on this exam?” “Send me the report card.” “Wow, first in class, awesome! Worthy of my daughter.” But never mentioned what she was doing. Asked her, she said working. But actually, I knew all about her heroic simp deeds. I didn’t say anything either. She simps hers, I simp mine. Mother and daughter on the same path, will eventually simp our way to our own love. Result? Simping collapsed midway. That night. I was sending a voice message to the school bully in a husky voice, asking what he was doing, if he wanted to come to my house, I’d do a backflip for him. The door was kicked open. Mom, whom I hadn’t seen for three months, appeared in front of me, holding a half-dead punk with yellow hair, eyes burning with rage: “Ava! Lane!” Scared, I jumped up, skillfully tucking the phone into my waistband: “Mom, Mom, listen to my explanation, the homeroom teacher always targets me, it’s not my fault.” “There are so many sleeping in class, dating early, even cooking in the back row, and she doesn’t catch them? She insists on catching me to arrange a ghost marriage for the principal? This is bullying…” Mom: “…” “What are you doing for the principal?! Ah forget it, marry if you want, but marry someone better! But not this one! Look who this is!” She threw the yellow-haired punk on the ground. The punk was caught off guard and fell flat on his face. Looking up, our eyes met. In the awkwardness, he suddenly flipped over smoothly like a loach, did ten push-ups with his hands on the ground “heave-ho heave-ho.” Stopped panting, thinking he saved face, lay on his side on the ground, looking up at us smugly. Mom: “…” Me, starry-eyed: “Wow!” Mom’s fist hardened, raising her foot to kick him. I was shocked, rushing to stop her: “Mom, how can you treat my crush like this!” Mom gritted her teeth: “Ava Lane! Are you blind? Where is this dead Yellow Hair worthy of being a crush?” The boy reacted instantly to “Yellow Hair,” jumping up: “I’m not Yellow Hair! I wanted to dye it green! That damn black shop used expired cheap dye, and it faded to yellow after two washes! Now I can’t wash it out! How can you blame me! Why call me dead Yellow Hair!” Mom: “…What’s the difference!” The boy stiffened his neck: “Of course there’s a difference! Green is so vibrant and good-looking! So unique!” “I didn’t want to be yellow hair either, like weeds…” Talking and talking, it seemed to poke his sore spot, reminding him of sad past events, voice choking: “Blame that black shop, making me laughed at by classmates for days boohoo…” I don’t care about yellow hair or green hair. I am a superficial face-judger. If you are good-looking, my heart moves, I can simp. Yellow Hair Caleb is the most handsome guy I picked from the whole school. High nose bridge, long eyelashes, deep eye sockets, eyes drooping like a puppy. Although he has some small flaws, like a bad temper, doing nothing all day, talking back to teachers in class, bossing people around during breaks. Enjoying all offerings from me, the simp, yet still ignoring me. But so what. Seeing his beautiful face, I can forgive everything. Not to mention crying like a pear blossom bathed in rain now. Even more directly handsome. Beautiful to tears, heartbreaking for me. I squatted down, couldn’t help wanting to touch his face. Caleb’s dog-like temper started acting up again. He glared at me: “Don’t touch me!” Mom’s temper exploded: “Hey, not letting people touch now? The money my daughter spent on you could book a dozen male models at a club, and you won’t even let her touch?” “Touch him, touch him! Daughter, touch him hard! Rub him bald!” But my heart skipped a beat. Looks like my simping for Caleb at school is completely exposed. Look, it drove Mom crazy. I comforted her: “It’s okay Mom, I did it voluntarily…” Mom glared at me: “Shut up!” Then quickly turned her head: “Today, either return the money, or let my daughter touch enough!” Caleb refused: “Why should…” But seeing Mom’s fierce eyes, wanting to kill him for protecting her calf. Caleb instantly chickened out. But almost all the money I gave him went into games, and his own allowance was strictly controlled by his brother because he caused trouble at school every day, leaving him only twenty bucks for cafeteria food. He was sure if he took out these twenty bucks, Ava Lane’s mom might kick his head like a ball. So he weighed it for a long time, finally gritted his teeth, steeled his heart, and lowered his head to me: “Touch!” I was flattered. Actually, I wanted to touch his fluffy dog-like hair for a long time. But hair is Caleb’s life. Even his closest brothers would get beaten up if they touched it. Didn’t expect to get it so easily as a simp. Looks like simps have spring too. Tears in my eyes, I raised my hand and gently placed it on his head. Just touched his hair, the boy frowned and “tsked.” Mom, waiting on the side: “Hmm? Dare to bare teeth!” Then quickly reached out and slapped his face precisely. Slap. Smoothed Caleb’s dog hair completely. Didn’t dare make a sound again. Let me rub and rub. I was touching happily here. Mom watching on the side felt worse and worse. Fifty thousand given to this brat without heartache, yet touching him once is a luxury, let alone his usual attitude towards Ava. Treating her directly as an ATM on call. And Ava herself acted like she had no pursuit or self-esteem, just touching his head, happy like this. Won’t she be manipulated and bullied at will in the future? No. Can’t go on like this. It must be because I usually focused almost entirely on Jason, neglecting my daughter’s education. Spending too little time with my daughter caused this situation. Not too late now, can still change. As for Dad, that useless guy. CEO my ass, can’t even educate a child well. Mom sneered, still have to do it myself.

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Serena, my boyfriend Jake’s junior intern, boasted about delivering babies with one hand. Her attempt failed disastrously—she screamed at the mother’s exposed abdomen, covering her face in horror: “Her anatomy is different! Textbooks never mentioned this!” I rushed to the hospital at midnight and saved the mother. Serena faced public outrage and heavy consequences. Jake wanted to defend her, but I stopped him: “Back her now, and you’ll lose your Young Investigator award—and the internet will tear you apart.” Overwhelmed by abuse, Serena drowned herself, leaving a note soaked in her own blood, accusing Jake of betrayal. He burned it in silence. Years later, Jake became a top medical scholar. During my labor, he operated—with one hand. Glaring at my unhealed womb, he dangled the bloody baby at my face: “See? One-handed delivery works. Why did you crush Serena? If I’d backed her then, she’d be where I am now!” He threw the infant to the floor. Consumed by rage and despair, I died with my child. Reawakening, I found Jake fiercely defending Serena—oblivious that her victim was the sister of a ruthless tycoon whose vendetta would destroy him. … The moment I realized I was back to the day Serena was showing off her one-handed delivery, I immediately switched off my phone. I slept straight through until morning. The next day, when I turned on my phone, sure enough, there were 99+ missed calls. In my previous life, Serena, realizing the mess she’d made, had called me late that night, begging me to clean it up. Despite having just finished three surgeries and barely getting an hour of sleep, I had rushed back to the hospital through a snowstorm, operating from dusk till dawn. I saved both the mother and the baby. Because of this, the mother’s brother, the head of A-City’s top conglomerate, didn’t punish Serena severely. He merely ensured she received the appropriate disciplinary action. If Serena had just endured that period, she might have continued her career and even thrived. But she had been coddled by my boyfriend, Jake, since childhood and had never known hardship. Faced with a deluge of online abuse, she simply jumped into the river. When I arrived at the hospital, Serena was slumped on the floor outside the operating room, weeping. My colleagues were frantic, their scrubs stained with blood. “It’s all your fault! Your hands were shaking, but you just had to try that one-handed stunt!” “Just because Director Thorne brought you in, you think you can do whatever you want?!” “Now look what’s happened! We can barely keep the patient alive. She’ll die if this goes on much longer! If her brother finds out, none of us who were involved in this surgery will ever work again!” The “beep-beep” of alarming medical equipment echoed from inside the operating room. My colleagues collapsed onto the floor, their faces ghostly pale. “It’s over… it’s all over…” A newly arrived colleague burst into tears. “Why wasn’t Dr. Armitage on call last night? If she had been here, she would have found a way…” “It’s truly hopeless now…” Serena looked up, and the moment she saw me, her eyes lit up. “It’s her!” She pointed at me. “I was calling her all night! But I couldn’t get through! It’s not us who killed the patient! It’s her, who could have saved her but deliberately switched off her phone!” Everyone turned their heads sharply to look at me. “Dr. Armitage!” “Dr. Armitage, did you really switch off your phone on purpose?” “Of course!” Serena stood up, pulling out her phone to show everyone the 99 missed calls she’d made to me. Her eyes red, she walked towards me, step by step. “Dr. Armitage, this is a matter of life and death. Which of us doctors doesn’t keep their phone on 24/7? “You knew there was a C-section scheduled for last night, and you’re the most capable person in OB/GYN. “To switch off your phone at such a critical moment, Lily Armitage, what were your intentions?!” “Slap!” A sudden, sharp slap landed on her face. I looked down at her. “Serena, have you lost your mind?” Other department colleagues heard the commotion and rushed to the scene. I snapped, my voice sharp. “The on-call schedule clearly states that you were scheduled for surgery last night, not me! “Yes, I didn’t notice my phone was out of battery, but the person truly responsible for this surgery is Dr. Brooks, who signed the on-call sheet!” Serena’s face paled. “When a life is at stake, what does ‘on-call’ or ‘not on-call’ matter? Your phone is never off, except last night. “Ha, Lily Armitage, it’s fine if you target me, but you can’t gamble with a human life!” She spoke with such righteous indignation that some uninformed patients began to speculate that I had deliberately skipped out on my shift, leaving the mess for Serena, a newcomer. All just to see her fail and make a fool of herself. But before I could speak, a colleague couldn’t hold back. “Serena, shut your mouth! Do you have any idea Dr. Armitage did three major surgeries back-to-back yesterday? She only managed to grab two bites of bread and a sip of glucose water in between!” “Exactly! You spend your time in the office with the AC on, and we have to cover your rounds. How would you know how hard Dr. Armitage works?!” “She didn’t get home until midnight yesterday. Is it really that strange to forget to charge your phone after a whole day, then just crash into bed?!” The family members of the patient I saved yesterday also chimed in. “Besides, Dr. Armitage fulfilled her responsibilities during her working hours. Last night was simply not her shift!” All the onlookers suddenly understood. Even the colleagues who had assisted Serena in the surgery couldn’t stand it anymore. “Alright, Dr. Brooks, last night was indeed not within Dr. Armitage’s responsibilities. We can only blame our bad luck.” Serena stumbled and fell to the floor. Her lips were white. “What’s everyone doing here?” The Chief of Staff’s angry roar filled the air. Behind him, Jake, his face grim, strode purposefully towards us. I was about to speak. But he walked right past me. He went directly to Serena, gently helping her to her feet. “It’s okay, I’ll find a way to help you. You’ll be alright.” Under the Chief of Staff’s intimidating gaze, the crowd quickly dispersed. I was called into his office. The moment the door closed, his stern expression vanished, replaced by panic. “Lily! Even though this isn’t your fault, you have to save this patient! “She’s the sister of Preston Thorne. If she dies in our hospital, no one, from top to bottom, including you, will have a place to work anymore!” I sighed. In truth, the reason I dared to turn off my phone was because I knew my colleagues could keep the patient stable. Even if I came after I woke up, there would still be a way to save her. That way, there would be room for negotiation in the subsequent events. I looked at the Chief of Staff. “Today’s incident is not only Serena’s responsibility but also Jake’s.” The Chief of Staff froze. I handed him a document signed by Jake. “Jake personally approved Serena’s one-handed delivery procedure. “We’re taking such a huge risk, all to cover for these two. So, Chief of Staff, I can clean up this mess. “However, Serena isn’t the only one who needs to be punished.” I pressed my hands on the desk. “If Jake isn’t dealt with properly, similar incidents will keep happening. “And I’m not sure I’ll be able to save our hospital then.” The Chief of Staff’s expression grew serious. Jake was his protégé, someone who had followed him since medical school. However, when it came to the hospital’s core interests, even a protégé had to be dealt with. Moreover, he now relied on me to save Preston Thorne’s sister – Nora Thorne. “That scoundrel! He’s gotten so reckless, thinking he can do anything because I promoted him!” He slammed the agreement onto the desk. “Don’t worry! Not only will his upcoming Young Investigator application be rejected by me, but his promotion report will also be killed! “After this, he’ll only be able to do odd jobs at the entry level. He can forget about ever holding a core position in the hospital again!” I curved my lips into a small smile. I signed the agreement. This meant that Jake’s path to soaring from Young Investigator to Fellow, which he had taken in my previous life, was now— Severed. From morning until evening. Nora Thorne’s vital signs gradually returned to normal. The baby’s life was also saved and was being closely monitored in the intensive care unit. My scrubs were soaked with sweat. The moment I stepped out of the operating room, I “thump!” collapsed to the floor. It took a full bottle of glucose given by a colleague before I slowly regained consciousness. My colleagues who had assisted Serena in the surgery earlier cried and clutched my hand. “Thank you, Dr. Armitage. Without you, we really don’t know what we would have done…” “Yes, Preston Thorne is a lunatic. If he knew his sister died on our watch, our families might also…” I comforted my colleagues. Finally, I could leave work and go home for some much-needed rest. As I reached the underground parking garage, footsteps behind me made me spin around. No one… I muttered to myself, then turned and continued walking. Suddenly, everything went black. “Mmph!” I thrashed violently but was still dragged into a dark room. My right hand was forcibly grabbed and pressed onto a table. In the dim light, I vaguely saw the silhouette of the person in front of me. “Jake!” The hand gripping me stiffened. I was tied to a chair, struggling frantically. “Jake! It’s you! I know it’s you, right?! “What do you want? We can talk! I beg you… let me go, I saved Serena’s life!” The person in front of me paused. When he spoke again, it was just a sigh. “No, while you saved her from Preston Thorne’s wrath. “But you ultimately still put her in an unfair and unjust situation. “I’m sorry, if you truly want to help her, you’ll have to lose a hand. “That way, no one will think you performed the surgery, and everyone will believe Serena was the one who turned things around. “I’ll talk to the colleagues. I’ll also delete your surgical records. Lily, this time, please help her.” My eyes widened. “Jake!” The cleaver was raised high. I struggled with all my might. “I’m a doctor! How will I live if I lose my hand?!” The cleaver paused. The dim yellow light illuminated a flicker of reluctance in his eyes. “I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life, Lily.” “Wait!” I shouted. “If you cut off my hand, you won’t be able to be a doctor either!” He shook his head. “Lily, Chief of Staff Lee is my mentor. He won’t let things escalate to that point. “Don’t worry, I’ll be able to stay in the medical field and protect you for life.” “He’s already given up on you!” His body stiffened. He chuckled. “No, he hasn’t.” “Thud!” “Argh!” A heart-wrenching scream. Sweat and tears streamed down my forehead. For a promise to “save her,” Jake was capable of going to such lengths… I couldn’t feel my right hand anymore. I didn’t dare to turn and look. I couldn’t imagine what my right hand had become. “Lily, it’s alright now, it’s alright, shhh…” A towel wrapped around my right hand. Jake kissed my wrist. “Don’t worry, I’ll be by your side for the rest of my life.” I heard my own trembling voice. “Get out…” “Lily…” “Get out of here!” Amidst my violent gasps, Jake released me. “Lily, I’m sorry. “But until the dust settles, I’ll have to keep you here, I’m sorry. “Serena’s reputation cannot be tarnished.” I smiled, tears rolling down my cheeks. “You’re really that afraid of me going out and telling the truth.” “I’m sorry…” The door closed in front of me. The room plunged into complete darkness. My consciousness also faded into chaos.

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The day I nearly died in childbirth, Ian was cheating on me. For the entire month of my recovery, he gallivanted across the globe with her, indulging in a whirlwind of luxury shopping sprees. When he returned, he didn’t forget to hand me a divorce agreement. “Brielle doesn’t like being called a homewrecker, so I have to get a divorce.” “Just sign it. I made sure to wait until your recovery month was over. Consider it a courtesy.” “I don’t want the child anyway. You can keep her as a memento. Brielle will give me children of my own.” I didn’t say a word. I just took the pen and signed. Any hesitation, I feared, would delay my reunion with the man I truly loved by even a second. Three months later, I was paged with an emergency summons from the hospital, right in the middle of my own wedding. They said a female patient had ruptured her corpus luteum during a particularly… vigorous encounter. And because this patient had been juggling multiple partners, she had developed a host of severe complications, requiring my immediate attention in the ER. I pushed open the door to the operating room and took a look. What a coincidence. Lying on the surgical table was none other than my ex-husband’s new fiancée. 1 I glanced down at the patient’s chart. Brielle Sterling. Before my divorce from Ian, I’d heard him say that name a thousand times. He called her Bri-bri, his voice dripping with an affection he never showed me. I thought he had found some perfect, flawless true love. Turns out, it was just this. I thought back to the day I gave birth. It was a difficult delivery, and I was hemorrhaging badly. The doctors were frantically calling for my husband, but Ian’s phone was unreachable. The tabloids, however, had no trouble finding him. Photos of him and Brielle, wrapped in each other’s arms as they entered and exited a five-star hotel, were plastered everywhere. With the kind of power the Blackwood family wielded, he could have buried that story in an instant if he’d wanted to. The fact that he didn’t made it clear: he was done hiding her. He was ready to make her his wife. When I finally woke up, having cheated death, Ian was there. His face was a mask of impatience. “Sienna, why do you always have to make such a mess of things?” “You were a top student, you’re a doctor yourself. Did you really have to go through with having this baby?” “I don’t even like her. This whole idea of using a child to secure your position is pathetic.” “I’m busy. I don’t have time for your melodrama…” His phone rang, cutting him off. He answered without a hint of shame. “Bri-bri…” The voice on the other end was sharp. “Decky, is my birthday surprise ready yet?” “You said you were just going to check on that hag in the hospital. It’s been half an hour. Why aren’t you back?” “I heard she bled everywhere. Gross. You better hurry back before you get any of that on you.” Ian chuckled. “You’re the only one who really cares about me, Bri-bri. I’m on my way back.” “The gift is ready. I promise it’ll be a surprise that’ll keep you in bed all night…” He walked out as he spoke, not sparing me a second glance. It never even occurred to him to look in on our daughter. But I wasn’t heartbroken. After confirming that my baby was safe and healthy, a wave of relief washed over me. Finally, I could talk to Ian’s grandfather about the promise he’d made. I called him myself. “Grandfather, the baby is safe. Am I free to go now?” The old patriarch of the Blackwood family had sought me out when his company was on the brink of collapse. My birth chart, he claimed, was uniquely aligned to bring their family prosperity. As long as I produced an heir, the Blackwood fortune would be secure. I was already a medical intern. To me, it was utter nonsense. But the rich have always been slaves to their superstitions. When I refused, he had my younger brother, who was still in college, expelled. My parents called me, sobbing, telling me about a near-fatal car accident they had just survived. A near miss, they said. I had no choice but to agree. The truth was, I already had a boyfriend, Liam. We’d been together for ten years. He knew everything, and he was waiting for me. The old man sighed on the phone. “I’ve seen the news. There’s no point in forcing things. You can go.” “But you’re weak right now. I’ve arranged for a team of private nurses. Wait until your recovery month is over.” 2 Brielle’s screaming snapped me back to the present. I gave her a quick assessment. A severe laceration, accompanied by a nasty infection. Some of the local tissue was already showing signs of necrosis. The situation was worse than I’d thought. She was convulsing in pain, but that didn’t stop her from cursing. “Useless! All of you are useless! You can’t even handle a small injury like this? I could have this hospital shut down by tomorrow!” “And those damn men! Not a single good one among them! They get their fun and then leave me here to suffer! I’ll skin them alive when I get out of here!” I pulled on a pair of sterile gloves, my expression blank. “Ms. Sterling, the examination shows a severe tear with a multi-pathogen infection. We need to perform a surgical debridement immediately.” At the mention of surgery, she started screaming again, ignoring the pain. “Surgery? Who gave you permission to cut me open? I’m warning you, if you leave a single scar on my body, you’ll all pay!” “I have a custom-designed wedding gown to wear! I’m about to marry into the wealthiest family in the country! Can you afford to ruin that for me?” Her eyes bored into me. “Are you doing this on purpose? Trying to destroy me? My fiancé is the richest man in the city! One word from him, and you’ll all be fired!” “You should worry about that later,” I interrupted, my tone clinical. “If we don’t operate soon, the infection will spread. Forget about getting married; you could suffer permanent damage to your reproductive system, or even risk your life.” I was simply stating the facts. For a patient like this, sympathy was a waste of time. A nurse handed her the pre-op consent form. Brielle snatched it and ripped it to shreds. “Sign what? I’m not signing anything! You quacks are trying to kill me! I’m going to report you! I’ll have your licenses revoked!” she shrieked. Then, a sudden thought seemed to strike her. Her eyes filled with venom as she stared at me. “Who the hell do you think you are? You think you’re qualified to operate on me? Get your director in here! Now! Or I’ll have my fiancé tear this whole hospital down!” If her condition weren’t so critical, I would have walked away. But my duty as a doctor held me there. I had no patience for her games. “Besides me, there’s likely no other doctor in this hospital who can perform this surgery. Where is your next of kin? We need a signature.” At the mention of family, a flicker of panic crossed her face. “Family? I don’t need family. I make my own decisions.” “Just do the surgery! If you screw this up for me, you’ll all regret it!” “Hospital policy requires a signature from a family member,” I repeated calmly. “Or perhaps, your fiancé?” Brielle’s face twisted in a snarl. “You’d better keep your mouths shut. If a single word of this gets out, I’ll make sure you all disappear.” I raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. We saw situations like this all the time. I placed another consent form in front of her. “Think it over and decide quickly. Time is running out. After your surgery, I have a wedding to get back to…” My words were cut off by a man’s voice from behind me. “Wedding? Who are you marrying?” “We’ve been divorced for three months and you’re already getting married?!”

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“Sign it. You’ll leave with nothing.” Thomas pushed the divorce papers across the table to me, his voice as detached as if he were closing a business deal. Beside him sat his lawyer, and next to the lawyer, his new partner, Sienna, her belly subtly rounded. Sienna looked at me with an air of condescension. “Ms. Emery, Thomas has been very generous. He’s not even asking for the house or the car back. Just sign.” I picked up the pen. Thomas’s brow furrowed. “Aren’t you going to read the terms?” “No need.” I signed my name. Then I smiled. Thomas’s face changed. 1. Thomas uttered those words at three in the afternoon. The conference room was quiet, sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the divorce agreement. I stared at my name, feeling utterly detached from it. Rachel Emery. Those two words had been mine for thirty-two years. With Thomas, for five. Five years ago, when we married, he wasn’t “Thomas Davies, CEO.” Back then, he was just a product manager who’d been let go by his company, with only three months’ severance pay in his pocket. I remember him telling me he wanted to start a business. I asked him what kind. He said enterprise SaaS systems. I told him that market was already saturated. He said it didn’t matter; he had the connections, the resources, he just needed someone who could code. At the time, I was a tech lead at a major corporation, earning over six hundred thousand a year. I told him, “I’ll do it.” He paused, then smiled. It was the most genuine smile I had ever seen from him. “Really? You’d quit your job and join me?” I said yes. That’s how we began. I resigned, he put up his severance pay, and we wrote the first line of code in our rented apartment. Back then, the company was just the two of us. Thomas was responsible for finding clients, negotiating partnerships, and securing investments. I handled all the technical development. All of it. I built the server architecture. I designed the database. I wrote the front-end and back-end. I optimized the core algorithms. The day the first version of the product launched, Thomas posted on social media. “Day 127 of our startup, and the product is finally live. Thanks to everyone who supported me.” The photo was of his own back, sitting in front of a computer. I scrolled past that post while debugging an online glitch. It was two in the morning; I’d had three coffees and my eyes were barely open. I just smiled, saying nothing. That post was just the beginning. The day we signed our first client, Thomas took them out to dinner, without inviting me. The day the first investment came through, Thomas posted, “Thank you to our investors for their trust, and to my incredible team,” with a photo of him and the investors. Team? Back then, the entire tech department was just me. I brought it up to Thomas once. “Could you mention me when you post?” Thomas was on the phone. He looked at me after I spoke. “You’re my wife. Why would I mention you? Outsiders will think I’m mixing business with pleasure.” “I’m the company’s Head of Technology.” “You’re my wife,” he emphasized. “What you do is what our company does. What’s the difference?” I said there was none. I truly believed there was no difference. The company grew from two people to twenty, then from twenty to eighty. Thomas hired sales, operations, finance, administration. But he didn’t hire tech. It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried. Three people were hired, and all three left. Because he couldn’t keep them. Because only I could understand the core code, and only I could maintain the core system. Newcomers couldn’t take over, or they couldn’t do it well. Thomas said, “Well, you just keep doing it then. You’re used to it anyway.” I said okay. I did it alone for five years. Five years. Over eighteen hundred days. Over fifty thousand hours. My recorded overtime alone exceeded eight thousand hours. An average of four and a half hours of overtime every day. Weekends were almost non-existent. The only time I ever took leave was when I was hospitalized for appendicitis. On the first day of my stay, Thomas came to see me. He brought a bag of fruit and talked for three minutes. Then he asked me, “What’s the root password for the server?” I lay in the hospital bed, fresh from surgery, the anesthesia not yet fully worn off. I gave him the password. He said thank you, then left. He didn’t come the next day. Or the day after. On the fourth day, he picked me up when I was discharged. In the car, I asked him, “What happened with the server?” He said, “Nothing major, just a small bug. Fixed it.” I told him to let me see. He said, “No need, it’s already resolved.” I asked who resolved it. He said an external contractor. A thought flashed through my mind at that moment, but I couldn’t grasp it. I should have. In the company’s third year, we secured Series A funding, with a valuation of thirty million. Thomas posted on social media again. “Thank you to the team, to our investors, and to everyone who believes in me. Three years, and we’ve finally reached this point.” The photo was of him and the investors, with the sales team standing behind them. The comments section was full of congratulations. I typed three words in the comments: Congratulations. Thomas replied with an emoji. That night, when I got home, I asked him, “How are you planning to divide the equity?” He said it was already done. I asked, “How much?” He said, “You get 5%.” I stopped chopping vegetables. 5%? I wrote the entire system. Front-end, back-end, architecture, algorithms, operations. I did it alone for three years. 5%? Thomas saw my displeasure and sighed. “I know you work hard, but equity isn’t about how much work you do. The Sales Director also gets 5%, the Finance Director also gets 5%. You can’t think of yourself as special.” “I’m the only one who’s been with you since day one.” “You’re my wife. What’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is yours. Why be so particular?” He used that line again. He always used that line. I said, “Alright.” 5% it was. At that time, the company was valued at thirty million. 5% was 1.5 million. 1.5 million for three years of my effort. An average of five hundred thousand per year. I used to earn over six hundred thousand a year at the big corporation. By this calculation, I was actually losing money. But I didn’t say anything. He was my husband. We were family. Family doesn’t keep secrets. After Series A came Series B. After Series B came Series C. The company’s valuation soared from thirty million to one hundred million, then from one hundred million to three hundred million. My share was still 5%. Thomas’s share was 42%. I didn’t ask him why mine hadn’t increased. I was afraid he’d say “You’re my wife” again. In the company’s fourth year, at the annual gala, Thomas stood on stage, impeccably dressed, radiating confidence. Over a hundred employees sat below, the spotlight on his face. “This year, our company’s revenue exceeded twenty million, and profits turned positive for the first time. All of this is thanks to everyone’s hard work.” Applause. “Thank you to the sales team, you are the company’s vanguard.” Applause. “Thank you to the operations team, you are the company’s cornerstone.” Applause. “Thank you to the finance team, you are the company’s guardians.” Applause. I sat in the audience, waiting for him to mention the tech team. He didn’t. After the gala, a new sales employee asked me, “Ms. Emery, what’s your role with Thomas?” I said, “I’m the Head of Technology.” She looked surprised. “Oh? I thought you were Thomas’s assistant.” That night, when I got home, I asked Thomas, “Why didn’t you mention me?” He was untying his tie. He paused after I spoke. “Why would I mention you? You’re my wife, everyone knows that. If I mention you, people will say I’m mixing business with pleasure.” “You don’t have to mention me as your wife, just the tech team.” “The tech team is just you. Mentioning them is the same as mentioning you, isn’t it? Still going to be called mixing business with pleasure.” I fell silent. Thomas walked over and patted my shoulder. “Honey, don’t overthink it. I remember everything you’ve done. When the company gets bigger, I’ll naturally increase your shares.” I said, “Okay.” I waited. The fifth year passed. No increase in shares. But there was a Sienna. 2. Sienna was the administrative assistant Thomas hired. I’d met her when she started; she was very pretty and spoke sweetly. I didn’t think much of it. The company had over a hundred employees, half of them women, and she wasn’t the only pretty one. But I should have. After Sienna joined, Thomas became increasingly busy. He used to be home before ten, then it became eleven, then twelve. I asked him why he was so busy. He said the company was pushing for Series D funding, and there was a lot to do. I asked if he needed my help with anything. He said no, just keep an eye on the technical stuff. I believed him. Three months after Sienna started, the administrative department had a team-building event. Thomas went. I asked him, “Since when do you attend the admin department’s team-building?” He said it wasn’t team-building, but an employee care activity, and as the boss, he should show his face. I said okay. Six months after Sienna started, it was the company’s annual gala. That year’s gala was entirely organized by Thomas; I wasn’t involved. There was a raffle, and Sienna won the grand prize. The latest iPhone model. Thomas personally handed her the phone and even posed for a photo with her. When he posted it on social media, Thomas wrote: “Grand Prize winner at the annual gala, such good luck!” The photo was of him and Sienna. Sienna was beaming. I sat in the audience, looking at that social media post, and a flicker of unease went through me. But I didn’t say anything. I had too much I wanted to say, but I was afraid he’d just think I was being paranoid again. Eight months after Sienna started, I found out. That night, Thomas came home very late, and walked straight into the bathroom. He left his phone in the living room. I didn’t mean to look. I really didn’t. But the phone lit up, and a text message popped up. Sienna: Thinking of you. Just those three words. I stared at the message for three seconds. Then I put the phone back where it was. Thomas came out of the shower, picked up his phone, and glanced at it. I asked him, “Who’s looking for you?” He said, “Company stuff.” I said, “Oh.” I couldn’t sleep that night. The next morning, after Thomas left, I opened the company’s time-tracking system. As the Head of Technology, I had backend access. I pulled up Thomas and Sienna’s time cards for the past three months. Their attendance times overlapped almost perfectly. When Thomas worked late, Sienna worked late. When Thomas worked weekends, Sienna also worked weekends. Then I pulled up the company’s access control records. The two of them often entered and exited the company together. Several records showed Sienna swiping her card to enter Thomas’s office. At eleven o’clock at night. I put down my phone and took a deep breath. I told myself it might be work-related. I told myself not to be paranoid. I told myself Thomas wasn’t that kind of person. I told myself he was my husband. We were family. Family doesn’t keep secrets. I didn’t say anything. A year after Sienna started, I found out the truth. That night, Thomas didn’t come home again, saying he had a business dinner. I opened the dashcam app on his car. The GPS showed his car parked in a complex on the west side of the city. I had been to that complex once. Last year, for a company team-building event, Sienna invited everyone to her place for dinner. It was that complex. I didn’t go to him. I drove to the complex entrance and sat for an hour. At one in the morning, Thomas’s car drove out. Sienna was in the passenger seat. They were talking about something in the car, and Sienna was laughing. I watched from a distance, without getting out. The next morning, Thomas came home. He said he’d had too much to drink at the dinner and feared drunk driving, so he slept at the office. I said, “Oh.” He asked me why I looked pale, if I hadn’t slept well. I said, “A little.” He said, “When things settle down at the company in a couple of days, let’s go on a trip. You’re too tired.” I said, “Okay.” After he left, I didn’t cry. I sat on the sofa for a long time. Then I opened my laptop and started working. Code wouldn’t betray me. Code wouldn’t lie to me. The code was mine; it belonged to me. For the next two months, I didn’t bring up the subject. Thomas continued his routine: work, business dinners, not coming home. I continued to write code, debug, and optimize systems. The company was pushing for Series D, and there truly was a lot to do. My system needed a complete overhaul. Before the new version launched, I worked overtime for over thirty consecutive days, sleeping only four or five hours a night. Thomas never once asked if I was tired. One night, at two in the morning, the server crashed, and user data was at risk of being lost. I single-handedly rushed to fix it until five in the morning, finally restoring it. That morning, Thomas came to the office and saw me asleep at my desk. He nudged me. “Server fixed?” I said, “Yes.” He said, “Good, I have an investor meeting soon. Can you prepare a report on the technical metrics for me?” I said, “Okay.” He left. He didn’t ask if I was tired. He didn’t ask if I’d had breakfast. It was as if I were a machine. Used, then used again. The Series D funding negotiations lasted three months and were finally finalized. A valuation of three hundred million, eighty million in funding. Thomas was so happy he practically danced three circles in his office. That night, uncharacteristically, he came home early and even brought a bouquet of flowers. I thought he was coming to thank me. He sat down, his expression very serious. “Honey, I have something to tell you.” I thought, Is he finally going to increase my shares? He said, “Sienna is pregnant.” I paused for three seconds. Then I smiled. “Congratulations.” Thomas hadn’t expected my reaction; he looked surprised. “Aren’t you angry?” “Should I be angry?” “I thought you would…” “Would what? Cry? Make a scene?” I stood up. “Thomas, you overestimate yourself.” He froze there. I walked into the bedroom and locked the door. That night, I slept very well. The next morning, I went to work as usual. Thomas wasn’t there; apparently, he had taken Sienna for her prenatal checkup. I sat at my desk, opened my laptop, and began to organize files. All the code I had written over these five years. All the technical documentation. All the system architecture diagrams. All the algorithm models. I looked through each one, confirming them one by one. Then I opened the National Copyright Office website. Computer software copyright registration. The applicant could be an individual or a company. I had never paid attention to this before. But now I had to. I found the date I wrote the very first line of code five years ago. March 12, 2018. The company hadn’t even been registered yet. All the code I wrote was completed before the company was incorporated. Including the core architecture, core algorithms, and core modules. Legally speaking, who owned the copyright to this code? Me. Because I completed them in my individual capacity, before I was employed. Thomas had only verbally said, “You come and help me write,” and no contract had ever been signed. At that time, I was his wife, not his employee. Writing code for him was helping, not working. The copyright for this code was always mine. I sat in the office all day. In the evening, Thomas returned. He walked into the office, saw me still at my desk, and looked a bit surprised. “You haven’t left yet?” “No, just organizing things.” “What things?” “Five years of work.” He didn’t ask further. He walked into his own office and closed the door. An hour later, he called me in. In the office, besides him, were the company’s legal counsel and Sienna. Thomas pushed a document towards me. “Rachel Emery, let’s get a divorce. Here are the papers, take a look.” I picked up the agreement. It was thick, seven or eight pages. I flipped through it, page by page. The gist was: irreconcilable differences, voluntary divorce. The house goes to the husband, the car to the husband, company equity to the husband, bank accounts to the husband. Debts are separate. The wife voluntarily relinquishes all claims to property division. Leave with nothing. Four clear words. Sienna watched me from beside Thomas, her eyes filled with condescension and triumph. “Ms. Emery, Thomas has been very generous. He’s not even asking for the house or the car back. Just sign.” I glanced at her. Her belly was showing, probably four months along. I looked back at Thomas. He sat in his executive chair, his expression distant. Five years. From having nothing to a valuation of three hundred million. I had been by his side through it all. Now he wanted me to leave with nothing. I smiled. “Alright, I’ll sign.” I picked up the pen and signed my name. Thomas looked surprised. “Aren’t you going to read the terms?” “No need.” I pushed the agreement back to him. “When are we filing for divorce?” “Tomorrow.” “Good.” I stood up, grabbed my bag, and walked out of the office. Sienna called out from behind me, “Ms. Emery, you still have things at your desk!” I didn’t turn around. “I don’t need them.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391090”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

During our company’s team-building retreat, we stopped by a Buddhist temple. My coworkers were all drawing fortune lots and hanging them on the wishing tree. I don’t believe in gods or Buddhas, so I didn’t participate. A colleague called out to me with a smile. “Hey, there’s a couple’s wish card here with the same name as Chloe.” “Chloe Zhou, Ethan Vance… The names actually sound pretty good together.” Our manager, who was lighting incense, suddenly looked up. “Vance what?” 1. Hearing that name amidst the crowd, I still subconsciously turned my head. Right in the middle, I met the manager’s gaze. He scanned the red wish card with the names written on it, looking puzzled. I grabbed my bag and walked over. “Manager, did you call me?” “Oh, no.” He looked at me, then back at the card. “The young heir of Vanguard Group who recently took over is named Ethan Vance.” My colleagues got interested: “It feels like neither of these names is very common.” “Could you actually be a rich man’s wife experiencing normal life?” “I suddenly remembered… last time that guy from the procurement department came over looking for trouble and yelled at Chloe, he was fired a few days later. No procedure at all, just told to pack his bags.” I adjusted my glasses and looked down. “If I really had that kind of background, I would plaster my resignation letter all over the office building, then write an email reporting all the idiots who ever offended me, and CC the whole company.” Someone beside me nudged me with their elbow. “Hey, keep that to yourself, the manager is still here.” “Sigh, no need to hide it, who doesn’t know she speaks her mind.” “Previously, when someone’s protégé showed off a nice watch to her, she told them to crawl out and act like a peacock somewhere else.” Everyone around burst out laughing. Smoke wafted from the bronze censer, the incense burning vigorously. That red couple’s card was passed around casually, getting wrinkled. “Give the card to me,” I said, “I need to hang it back up for whoever left it.” The others went into the main hall of the temple. I sat under the tree, and it took a long time for me to remember this place. Ethan’s mother was from San Francisco’s Chinatown, deeply religious. To please his mother, whenever he encountered a temple, he would always go in and light incense. During the years we were together, I don’t know how many small, exquisite temples like this we visited. I didn’t pray, so I just waited for him outside. That time was an exception. After drawing a lot, he said it was the best possible fortune. So he asked for a red wooden plaque, wrote our two names with flamboyant strokes, and hung it high on a branch. He also said that after making a wish, it was customary to show one’s face in front of the Buddha statue. I couldn’t talk him out of it, so we went into the hall together. I watched him straighten his suit, raise the incense high to his forehead, and bow deeply three times. I didn’t make a wish. I believe in myself more than gods and Buddhas. The main group of colleagues came out of the hall and went to another spot to take photos. Clutching the red card tightly, I slipped into the Buddhist hall like a thief. The rose-red incense stick felt rough. I lit it hurriedly and bent down, mimicking the way I remembered. If making a wish really works… I want to see him one more time. 2. After touring the attractions, my colleagues were going to eat and asked where I was. I met up with the crowd and ducked into a bustling seafood shack. A few girls at the next table were eating happily, exchanging gossip while clinking glasses. This one said so-and-so cheated. That one said so-and-so had been entangled for years and finally broke up. A male colleague joked, “Exciting enough, I’ve grown this big and haven’t dated yet.” “It’s okay, you have company, Chloe definitely hasn’t dated either… hey, looking at that expression, could it be she has?” “I’m curious who could stand Chloe’s sharp tongue.” “Maybe they broke up because they couldn’t stand it.” I smiled perfunctorily and didn’t answer. It had been over a year since I broke up with Ethan Vance. I was the one who initiated the breakup. Just over a small matter— He was rear-ended while on a business trip and sprained his left hand. But he didn’t tell me. I missed him and video-called him, but he didn’t answer immediately. Half an hour later, he called me back. I recognized the background as a hospital, and only then did I know he was injured. A young female employee sent by the other company to host him was trying to smooth things over in the background. Saying the injury wasn’t serious, but he needed to rest and be observed for a few days. That he came to the hospital in too much of a rush to tell me. Look, even others knew to at least make up an excuse. There were many things before this. For example, when he encountered difficulties at work. When I asked, he would brush it off lightly. He no longer needed me to travel with him. Avoided talking to me about troubles in his life. Even when his father was seriously ill, he only told me he needed to be away from home for a while. I had many things I wanted to tell him every day. In our chat history, there were far more green bubbles than white ones. The TikTok videos I shared with him were never liked. I didn’t even know if he ever clicked on them. He didn’t like posting on social media. If he did, it was retweeting reports on industry trends, with a few brief comments. Changing to matching profile pictures, making any official announcements, never happened. I could only be anxious day after day. Then asking him again and again, do you love me? He answered very quickly, very firmly. But he always looked at me with a helpless and accommodating look— As if he didn’t know why I had to confirm the same thing with him repeatedly. When Ethan and I met, I was too young. When I was in college agonizing over what to eat for my next meal, he was learning about various affairs in his family’s company. When I was interning under him, I watched him effortlessly resolve difficulties countless times. He was only six years older than me, but much, much more mature. The things that left me battered and exhausted, he could handle without a second thought. My initial crush on him probably came from that effortless competence. But I never expected there to be two sides to everything. The tricks I pulled out of insecurity, jealousy, or a need for attention hit him like hitting cotton, caught gently by him without making a single ripple. The time Ethan sprained his arm in the hospital. We only said a few words before disconnecting the video call. He was still completely calm, telling me: “Looks like I’ll be home a few days late. I had someone send the gift for you back. Don’t worry, it’s just a small thing.” Just a small thing, don’t worry. I don’t know how many times I’ve heard this kind of talk, even feeling a bit numb to it. I really wanted to lose my temper right then. The questioning words were almost blurting out. But seeing his nonchalant face, the anger disappeared in an instant. What was there to say? If he didn’t plan on telling me, how else could I pry his mouth open? I stared blankly at the black screen of my phone. Looking around, I suddenly started crying. I didn’t know why either. I really wanted to go to his hospital to take a look. Ask him, how did the car accident happen? What exactly was the situation, how were the other casualties? Would his hand have any lingering effects? Was he also very panicked when he was hit? That night I tossed and turned. Scrolling through our chat history from bottom to top, trying to find a little evidence of his enthusiasm for me. None. Only money transfers, money transfers, money transfers. I really love money. Before I was with him, I thought working and making money was everything in my life. Love is something only the elite can pursue. For ordinary people, it’s irrelevant. I only needed myself, and a bulging wallet, and that would be enough. It turns out people are greedy. I closed the text app, looking at my bank account balance, feeling happy and shedding tears at the same time. I finally couldn’t hold back and video-called Ethan. It was only after the video call went out that I realized it was past 3 AM. He had probably gone to sleep and was woken up. When he answered the phone, he looked exhausted. Draped in an overcoat, his tie undone, a few buttons on his shirt loose. Leaning against the hospital bed, as if he completely didn’t expect a call from me. After seeing it was me clearly, he froze for a few moments before speaking. “Why are you crying like this. Save your tears, it’s not time to use them yet.” I had told myself not to cry. To calmly and logically point out his dereliction of duty as a boyfriend before breaking up. But seeing his face, the emotions suddenly couldn’t be suppressed. “Ethan, why won’t you tell me anything?” “It’s just a minor sprain. If I told you, you’d skip class and fly over like last time. You’re in your second year of grad school, you need to leave a good impression on your advisor.” I raised my voice, “It’s not just about today!” Silence on the other end. Ethan’s expression slowly became serious. Through the screen, he looked at me unblinkingly. I turned my head and covered my eyes, tilting the camera up, away from my face. “The things that make you feel very uncomfortable, very unhappy, you won’t even tell me one of them?” “Do you have to act like this with me, being all polite, reporting only the good news and not the bad?” “I just… want to know the big and small things in your life.” “You used to… tell me carefully when you encountered difficult things, and complain with me when you encountered difficult clients!” “Do you not have the desire to share with me anymore?” My chest trembled uncontrollably. Pressing the words into disjointed characters. On the other end of the phone, the hospital bed creaked. Ethan threw off the thin blanket and got out of bed, pulling on his jacket quickly with one hand. “Chloe,” he said, “I just don’t want to affect your mood.” “Do you think I can’t handle my own emotions? It’s not like I haven’t been yelled at at work!” “That’s different.” “How is it different?” “Work is work. You can be strictly professional with subordinates, and you need to communicate honestly to solve problems, but a girlfriend is different,” he said. “You’re young. Being with me, I have an obligation to ensure you’re happy, not worrying about me. In my ideal state, you only need to think about what to do for fun today, or go out with others and swipe your card, and ideally bring me a little gift in passing. If I make you feel pressured or start worrying that I can’t handle something, it means I’m useless.” “So you don’t communicate about your life with me, not even when your father passed away?” “I was very busy then, very busy. Too many people came to pay their respects. If you wanted to come pay your respects, I would not only have to handle the funeral arrangements, but also constantly pay attention not to neglect you. I couldn’t manage it.” I stared at the screen, not speaking. Long silence in the audio, only rustling sounds. His left hand was restricted, and he managed to dress himself with difficulty. He looked at me again, his eyelids heavy from staying up late. “Don’t cry anymore. I’ll buy the earliest flight back, we’ll talk in person.” I didn’t cry anymore. Sitting on the bed, I looked at him for a long time. “Don’t come back.” I said. “When I was your assistant helping out, you said I was practical and capable. You asked me for suggestions for you, asked me what I ate today, if I slept well, if I had the energy to go on a mentally and physically exhausting business trip with you.” “I don’t understand.” “We became boyfriend and girlfriend, why did the distance grow further instead?” “If a romantic relationship makes you feel like I’m delicate and weak and need you to take care of everything, then let’s take a step back.” “If we go back to being friends…” “You would look at me equally again, and tell me some things you won’t tell me now.” I pressed my dry eyes; my palms were dry. He slowly leaned back against the sofa, sighing and comforting. “Chloe, when you reach my age, you’ll know…” I interrupted him. “I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.” In the gap of relative silence. I lowered my head, even I couldn’t figure out the motive for speaking up. “Ethan Vance, do you love me?” He still spoke firmly. “Yes.” “That’s enough then.” I hung up the phone and moved out of his house that night. Initiating the breakup didn’t make me feel relieved. Those past events would squeeze into the gaps of my thoughts at every opportunity. Sometimes pushing in forcefully, making it impossible to think about anything else. And then suddenly withdrawing. Leaving only emptiness and a continuous, long, dripping pain. 3. The team building ended, and we flew back to New York. The few days of traveling felt like a long dream. Only that red card with our names in my pocket was repeatedly mocking me, able to pick it up but unable to put it down. The things that needed to be done before the end of the year had all reached the final inspection and wrap-up stage. Everyone started to have nothing to do, waiting for the holidays. A childhood friend called, inviting me to attend a wedding banquet with him. “Whose wedding banquet?” I asked. It was rare to get a break all year, and I didn’t want to exert effort to see people I didn’t know well. Aaron’s voice was low, refusing to tell me who was getting married. “Chloe, I really don’t know who else I can talk to. You have to come with me.” I checked the date and agreed. Only when I arrived at the wedding venue did I know the protagonist of the banquet was Aaron’s ex-girlfriend. I was finally happy. “Hey Aaron,” I nudged him with my elbow, “You should have been the wedding car driver, you know the route to pick up the bride best.” Aaron gripped his chopsticks, furious. I acted as if I didn’t notice, admiring the bride’s grand attire. “This officiant is no good,” I said. “It still has to be you, you’ve rehearsed the process of marrying her many times, right?” He gritted his teeth, and after a long time, smiled. “Are you sick?” Got scolded. I was satisfied, concentrating on selecting dishes from the banquet. Aaron’s ex-girlfriend came from a good family, and her family had high requirements for choosing a son-in-law. The two of them broke up and got back together, dragging it out for several years. Finally, Aaron felt he couldn’t convince his in-laws and proposed breaking up. I looked at the newlyweds on stage, and then at Aaron, who was burying his head in drinking. If Ethan got married, I definitely would… I definitely wouldn’t go. I could wish him success, wish him health, but the only thing I wouldn’t wish him was happiness. The white wine on the table was opened. I poured half a glass and clinked glasses with Aaron on my own. He said, “Don’t eat too much, keep me company to go out for a drink later.” I nodded, risking my life to accompany the gentleman. After eating the meal where Aaron poured out his feelings, the streets were empty. I was incredibly sleepy. Seeing that he called a designated driver, I simply closed my eyes and lay on the back seat, sleeping soundly— Until broad daylight. I was frozen awake. Not at home, still in Aaron’s car. The window was opened at some point, and the wind was freezing. The scenery outside the window was strangely familiar. Half asleep and half awake, I paused for a moment and suddenly became fully awake. … It’s Ethan’s house. I looked at Aaron in disbelief. “You paid a designated driver to drive hundreds of miles overnight just to mess with me once, right?” “Sigh, you actually guessed right.” “Are you crazy?” I punched his shoulder frantically. “Drive away quickly!” During the scuffle, his elbow hit the steering wheel. The car honked abruptly. The housekeeper auntie walked out suspiciously. Catching sight of me, she let out an “Oh my”. “Miss Zhou! You haven’t been here for a long time!” I hurriedly tried to stop her, “Auntie! Don’t tell Eth…” “Go tell the mister quickly, Miss Zhou is back.” Auntie pressed the intercom and said a few words, then came back to her senses. “Ah? Miss, what did you say?” I slumped back into the back seat. “Nothing.” Aaron laughed out loud. “Why aren’t you getting out of the car, aren’t you most familiar with this place?” “The mister invites you up. When you’re not here, he always stays up late, relying on his youth to ruin his health,” the auntie complained, opening the car door for me. “The mister says you’re very busy and don’t have time to come. Where have you been this past year? Why haven’t you even come home.” I didn’t know how to answer, so I could only smile. The auntie kept talking to herself. “You came at a good time, he’s free these few days and can play with you.” The words of refusal hovered on my lips. The familiar small building was right in front of me. Should I see him one more time? See him one more time, talk things out, and then I can let go of my obsession. As if possessed by a ghost, I got out of the car. Smoothing my hair using my phone camera. Rubbing my face vigorously, trying to eliminate the puffiness from a hangover. The thought in my mind was that I shouldn’t go, but my feet stepped forward one by one. The road to Ethan’s house, I had been walking since my junior year of college. Sometimes it was to fetch documents for him. Sometimes it was to pick him up for a dinner engagement. Sometimes it was when work went wrong, and he caught me to give me private tutoring on how to handle things. Meeting him was an accident. Rumor has it that before children of wealthy businessmen enter management, they would let their children throw money into games to raise a team to practice. Ethan was my sponsor in the game. Teaming up to clear dungeons is hard work. When busy, we had to pull all-nighters. Fortunately, he was very generous. Every season, he paid all the wages to me. And I distributed it to each team member. Relying on him, I saved up tens of thousands in deposits. I didn’t expect frequent jokes to happen in the game. Many teams had instances where the team leader embezzled team members’ wages, causing the sponsors to be publicly shamed and cursed. How could the rich kids have ever suffered this kind of humiliating hardship. For a time, major sponsors were investigating the people under them. Ethan didn’t ask anything. He transferred another hundred thousand in bonus funds to me and said calmly: “I don’t care how much extra you took before. This time, it must be divided equally according to the number of people.” I said: “I didn’t embezzle.” “Every season, wages plus bonuses start at half a million, the money that passed through your hands during this time is at least three million. Water that is too clear has no fish; if the personnel below are managed well, taking a little profit, I don’t mind.” I said: “I didn’t embezzle a single cent. Every sum of money is accounted for, I’m not joking.” Silence on the other end for a moment, asking about my education. I took a picture of my student ID and sent it to him. After a long time, a short voice message popped up. His tone was approving. “Work with me.” So company colleagues got in touch with me. Occasionally dispatching some practice tasks. When the holidays arrived, they directly sent over a photo of a workstation and asked me to report there. I worked cross-disciplinary, mostly having no specific tasks, only responsible for watching and learning. Ethan was rotating through the grassroots departments of the company to gain experience, busy spinning around. His rank wasn’t high enough to be assigned an assistant. When meeting important clients, he still had to show his face with the identity of the crown prince. I was taken everywhere running around. Felt like a duck being stuffed with various knowledge. Occasionally accompanying him on business trips, I had to take several days off in a row. My relationship with my roommates was stiff, so I simply rented a place off-campus to facilitate working at any time. Friends were very sympathetic to me. Saying this kind of grueling internship couldn’t be found even with a lantern, asking me where I dug it up. But I thought it was great. Studying this garbage major was like having both feet in the grave. One side is not finding a job and starving to death into the grave. The other side is the dirt of the construction site. When encountering work that didn’t require being stationed at a construction site, I didn’t even have time to laugh. Not to mention it was direct recruitment by the boss, getting to hang with the young heir of the company right out the gate. The second I realized I had fallen for him, I felt miserable. If I laid my cards on the table, I’d lose a great job. If I hid it, feelings that exceeded the superior-subordinate dynamic would eventually make me mess up. It was better to propose leaving myself. That was near the end of the year, after a business trip. Ethan leaned back in the rear seat, rubbing his temples. “Why aren’t you getting in?” I returned the red envelope I’d received to him. “I probably won’t be able to join the company after graduation.” He didn’t take it, asking me, “Why.” “If I can get in, I want to continue to grad school.” “That’s a good thing, I support it. Come back after you finish, I always have a spot for you here.” He tapped the leather seat. “It’s windy, get in.” I held the car door, shaking my head. “That’s not what I mean.” I didn’t have to keep him company drinking at the dinner table. But maybe the winter atmosphere was too suitable for a drink, and I also had a few glasses mixed with Sprite. “Ethan, I think I’ve fallen for you. Liking the boss is very unethical.” He leaned in the back seat, and for a long time didn’t let the driver start the car. Suddenly he leaned forward and reached out to grab my wrist. I was pulled to sit beside his legs, hearing the sound of a violently beating heart. The car door insulated us from the cold, and he let out a breath. He folded his suit jacket and put it aside, then pulled out a small, long velvet box from his side. “Then I guess I’ll have to be the one doing the unethical thing.” A necklace made of slender marquise diamonds, visibly valuable but not overly ostentatious. I asked blankly, “Why pick me?” He said. “I trust you completely.” “If you’re always at home in the future, I think I’ll be very relaxed.” 4. From age 21 to 24, I spent nearly half my time at Ethan’s house. After being away for a year and eight months. It was still the same gardener trimming the branches. The water mist sprayed by the irrigation system condensed into rainbows in the air. It seemed like nothing had changed, just that the flowers had withered and bloomed a few more times. The auntie smiled and led me inside. “Go on up quickly. Has your taste changed, or should I have them make those same few dishes for you as before?” “No need to trouble… I’ll just go to the restroom first.” I practically fled in disarray, hiding in the empty space. The appearance in the mirror wasn’t exactly dazzling. At least it was too different from the self I imagined when reuniting with him. I should have had a full face of makeup. Sporting a delicate, curled hairstyle. Dressed decently, smiling and greeting him, showing that I’m doing very well. Instead of being full of exhaustion, wrapped in a long black puffer jacket, inexplicably dragged to my ex’s door by car. A piece of the nude nail polish on my index finger had chipped off, making the nail bed look mottled. I cupped water and rinsed my mouth repeatedly, combing my hair until it was smooth. There were still a few strands of hair that had been pressed down for too long, stubbornly sticking up. I closed my eyes and said forget it. It’s not like he hadn’t seen me looking miserable with ruined makeup before. I took off the puffer jacket and folded it over my arm. The door to the second floor was casually open, and sounds of laughter and conversation came from the parlor. “I have to go back to the old house in a few days. Sigh, going there every year just to get scolded, and getting scolded the most every year.” “Why do they scold you, which of your cousins isn’t more of a jerk than you?” “The old man is patriotic, dislikes that I don’t stay home to build the motherland. Tsk, even told me to follow my dad’s old path, I won’t do it. If they confiscate my passport, I won’t be able to go anywhere, I’d suffocate.” “I bet they’re scolding you for not getting married.” “A grown man who hasn’t even seen a female cockroach, do you like men?” “Hey, don’t say that, I’m young and in my prime, why get married at 28?” A group of people were lying or standing, beaming with joy. Ethan sat at the low table, not joining the conversation, just listening with a smile, pouring a round of tea. I was hesitating whether to go in. One person leaning on the sofa tilted his head and looked at me through the display shelves in the entryway. He sat up with a start and raised his chin. “Hey, Ethan, your girlfriend.” “Girlfriend is here? Alright, we brothers will roll out now, won’t disturb you two being alone.” “When everyone’s free, we’ll go see Auntie together.” As if cued by a notification sound, everyone stood up in unison. “You guys chat, you guys chat,” I quickly explained, “I’ll just sit for a bit and leave shortly.” Ethan smoothly pulled me behind him, nodding goodbye to his friends. The gazes of the few men looked over his shoulder and landed on my face. “Come to the gathering in a few days, sister-in-law. We’re heading back now.” The sounds of casual chat mixed with footsteps faded away. The warmth of his palm wrapping around my wrist bone gradually dissipated. I hid my hand back under my clothes, not knowing what to say. He closed the door, casually took my puffer jacket, and hung it on the coat rack. “Sit.” I didn’t move, embarrassed by his familiarity. He dumped the tea dregs and brewed a new pot. “Haven’t seen you in so long, what made you suddenly think of coming here?” Of course, it was because that idiot Aaron holds grudges and seeks revenge instantly. Just because I laughed at him for not getting to drink his own wedding wine. “Aaron’s ex-girlfriend got mar…” I pointed my left hand indignantly, starting to vent my anger. Ethan washed the teacups and looked up at me. I subconsciously wanted to complain about the whole thing from beginning to end. Catching his gaze, I instantly shut my mouth. He might not want to hear it either. I opened my mouth, swallowing the remaining sentences. “Nothing,” I said, “I laughed at Aaron about his ex, and he dragged me here.” “Mm.” He didn’t press further, “Since you’re here, let’s have a meal together.” “No need.” I blurted out. “It’s a bit cold outside. I’ll call a car from here, and I’ll leave when the car arrives.” No one spoke. The cups bobbed in the boiling water, were fished out by the tea tongs, and placed on the low table. He poured two cups of tea, his tone betraying no emotion. “I thought we hadn’t reached the point where we wouldn’t even speak when we meet.” I stood blankly for a moment, then sat down in front of the teacup. A thin gold line traced the rim of the cup, smooth and exquisite. The first time I used it, the cup itself wasn’t hot, but that line burned my hand. Later I learned to be smart. When the temperature of the gold line was just right, the tea was ready to drink. The door was knocked on. A servant quickly set down some snacks and closed the door again. At this time, having something to logically stuff my mouth with couldn’t be more perfect. I picked up a rice cake, unexpectedly meeting Ethan’s gaze. He held his teacup and looked at me calmly. Realizing I was peeking at him, he didn’t dodge at all. He is always composed, I thought. No matter how sharp I am in front of others, towards him, it seems I can never be completely at ease. I swallowed the pastry with some water and took the initiative to speak. “How have you been lately?” “Easier than before.” He replied briefly, his hand suddenly pausing, raising his eyes to sweep over me. After a moment of silence, he continued, frowning and speaking slowly. As if he hadn’t tried to carve out fragments of his life to share with someone for a long time, there was an unfamiliarity in his words. “What I have to do daily is just that. I don’t need to manage the small things, and there are never many big things. I travel for business occasionally; what’s important is mostly maintaining connections. I rarely encounter people or things worth remembering, accidents don’t happen often, and similarly, there are no surprises. If I had to say something special, a friend’s German Shepherd had a litter recently, and I asked for one. The backyard is quite spacious. When spring comes and we plant grass seeds, a lawn will grow quickly. Put out some toys, and it’ll be suitable for it to play.” I didn’t expect him to bring this up on his own and choked for a few moments. “That dog, where is the dog now?” “Hasn’t been weaned yet.” He flipped his phone and pushed it in front of me, “They all look good, I picked a small one. If you like it, I’ll ask him to save one for you too.” “I thought about getting a dog. But I don’t have time to walk it when I’m working, so I decided against it.” I lowered my voice, “I didn’t expect you would raise these.” He nodded and poured tea for me. “How is work?” I was in a daze for a few seconds, “Everything is pretty good.”

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The year I hit my peak as a competitive eater—pure, unadulterated hunger—I could put away ten burgers in one sitting. For my sixteenth birthday, my parents asked me what I wanted for a gift. I told them I wanted to go to an all-you-can-eat luxury buffet. It had been so long since I’d felt full. Seeing me drooling with anticipation, my dad instantly lost his temper. “Leo, why do you always have to act like your mother and I mistreat you?!” “Like at dinner tonight. Your brother just took the last two pieces of braised pork, and you looked like it killed you.” “You’d already eaten two bowls of rice! There has to be a limit to how much you compete with your brother for attention, okay?!” For the millionth time, I explained to them: “I really just wasn’t full yet.” My dad slapped my face hard with his chopsticks. “Lying again?!” “What kid eats two massive bowls of rice and still isn’t full?” “You’ve gone crazy competing for attention, haven’t you? You don’t even care about your own body.” Getting hit with chopsticks hurts. Tears sprang to my eyes immediately. As I covered my face and lowered my head, I saw my younger brother spitting the intact pieces of braised pork into the trash can. … Who exactly was competing for attention here? My brother was clearly full. But seeing me still eating, he deliberately dumped the last two pieces of meat into his own bowl. And my dad even praised him, saying a healthy appetite is a blessing. Dad, why is it that when I can eat a lot, it’s just me faking it? Maybe it’s because I was a “left-behind” kid, growing up away from them. Not as close to him as my brother is. Fortunately, the next day was my uncle’s birthday. He hosted a buffet banquet at a hotel, and I could finally have a full meal. I had been eating for a while when my dad, who had worked overtime, finally arrived late. Seeing the plate piled high with food in my hand, my dad’s expression instantly changed. “Leo, why are you eating so much again!?” My brother smiled and took my dad’s arm: “Brother has such a good appetite. He’d already finished two plates before you got here.” “Wow, Leo, you can really pack it away.” A cousin I wasn’t very close to genuinely marveled. He was extremely skinny, had a poor appetite, and envied me. I forced a smile at him and said it was alright. My dad’s face grew even darker. “Leo, do you think this is something to be proud of?” “At a relative’s birthday party, you’re eating for free, and you have the nerve to eat this much?” “Look at how nice your brother is dressed, and then look at the tacky clothes you’re wearing.” I bit my lip, catching sight of my brother’s sleek superhero jacket out of the corner of my eye. I looked down at my own faded, washed-out denim overalls. My dad crossed his arms, rolled his eyes, and continued: “Envious, huh?” “If you keep eating like this, you’ll only be able to fit into potato sacks. What girl would ever look at you?” My brother covered his mouth and laughed: “Dad, you don’t need to worry about that.” “There are plenty of girls who like ugly guys, and some who like pigs. Someone will eventually take brother in.” Seeing my eyes redden, my dad scolded me impatiently: “Your brother and I are just reminding you to have some self-discipline. What are you crying for!” “I work at the print shop at your high school. A lot of people know we’re father and son. You eat like a pig, where am I supposed to put my face?” Ever since I started high school, my appetite had been growing. And my dad was constantly unhappy about it. He stubbornly believed this was a trick my grandpa taught me to vie for attention, refusing to believe I just naturally had a big appetite. 2 My brother smiled and coaxed, “Dad, don’t be mad. Brother’s head is probably entirely filled with food; it’s normal he can’t listen to good advice.” “Let’s just ignore him.” The strange looks from several relatives nearby made me feel like I was sitting on pins and needles. Embarrassed, I turned my back, wanting to escape the banquet hall. “What’s wrong?” My uncle, noticing something was off from afar, walked over. It hit me hard—today was my uncle’s birthday party. He had always been kind to me and sent me plenty of snacks. I couldn’t let my argument with my dad ruin everyone’s mood. I secretly wiped away the tears at the corners of my eyes and told my uncle it was nothing. Seeing more and more relatives gathering around, my dad forced his expression to soften. “It’s nothing, I was just lecturing Leo a bit.” He proactively stood next to me, picked up a single lettuce leaf with the tongs, and dropped it onto my plate. “I really don’t know what to do with you. If you want to eat, then eat more. Just don’t say I’m playing favorites again.” Numbly, I forked the lettuce and shoved it into my mouth. When I looked up, my eyes met my brother’s squarely. He gave me a contemptuous smirk, and my heart gave a sharp jolt. The first night I was brought back to live with my parents a year ago, that was exactly how he smiled at me. I knew he hated me, hated that my coming home took away some of Mom and Dad’s attention. So he always, overtly or covertly, led my dad to believe I was competing with him for favor. But I… I am clearly their son too. New Year’s was approaching, and the food street outside the school was bustling with activities. A fried chicken joint launched a “Competitive Eater Challenge.” Finish a set massive bucket of fried chicken within thirty minutes, and not only is the meal free, but you also get a fifty-dollar voucher. After school, I went to take the challenge alone. But just as I was about to step into the fried chicken shop, I was stopped in my tracks by my dad, who had just driven out from the school. “I was wondering why I didn’t see you after school. Sneaking off to participate in some eating challenge again?” His face held undisguised disgust. “You are not allowed to go. It’s a disgrace.” At the birthday banquet yesterday, I didn’t eat much before fleeing in panic. Today, my dad was stopping me again. I was too hungry and lacked the energy to argue with him. I turned around and stepped into the shop. I was the only one taking the competitive eater challenge, and all the customers cast curious glances my way. Especially when the owner brought out that massive bucket of fried chicken, gasps of amazement echoed around. My dad, face livid, tried to drag me away by force. “If you want fried chicken, I’ll make it for you at home. With so many people watching, are we monkeys in a zoo?” “Or do you just really enjoy this kind of grandstanding?!” His words pierced straight into the scar on my heart. When I was little, a kindergarten teacher scolded me for eating non-stop, calling it grandstanding. When my dad found out, he laid into the teacher and told me to eat as much as I wanted. But why, after being separated from him for ten years, did that former protection turn into a weapon, thrown back at me like a boomerang? “Just leave.” I pulled away the hand he used to grab me and asked the owner to bring the timer. Seeing he couldn’t persuade me, my dad glared at me fiercely, turned around, and walked out of the shop. As he left, I heard him mutter a curse under his breath. I lowered my head and ate the fried chicken, a single tear falling onto the plate. The owner called out to me in surprise: “What’s wrong, kid?” I looked up and smiled: “It’s nothing, your mustard sauce is just too strong.” 3 After successfully completing the challenge, I returned home all alone. Dad, Mom, and my brother were eating, talking, and laughing. Mom tried to grab a bowl to serve me some rice, but Dad shouted loudly: “Don’t serve him! He was out there playing the monkey for people to stare at, he’s full by now. He wouldn’t even remember to come home for dinner.” Mom hesitated for a moment, then put the bowl down. The picture of a happy family of three having dinner stung my eyes, making them burn again. My dad and I entered an unspoken cold war. My food allowance, which was already strictly controlled and repeatedly slashed, was cut even further. A boy with a normal appetite could barely get full on my allowance. But I couldn’t. I was hungry every day, depressed every day. I didn’t have the energy to argue with my dad anymore. “Leo, my stomach suddenly feels awful. I really can’t eat this spicy chicken I brought. You can have it.” My deskmate, a total angel, handed his lunchbox to me. He had only eaten one piece of chicken; the full box of food looked practically untouched. “Thank you so much!” After my deskmate left, I pulled out my freshly washed eating utensils. An exaggerated gasp suddenly came from the classroom door. “Dad, it looks like brother is eating someone’s leftovers!” Immediately, I heard my dad’s stern reprimand. “Leo! What are you doing!” My dad’s roar made me shudder instinctively. I tried hard to suppress the urge to run away; I just wanted to eat a full meal. But the fragrant, double-layered lunchbox in front of me was suddenly snatched away. My dad glared at me furiously: “Do you have any self-respect?!” “You’re eagerly eating your classmate’s leftovers? If word gets out, people will think I’m abusing you!” “Would it kill you to eat a little less!?” My brother, standing behind him with his arms crossed, looked down at me with the same condescending expression as my dad. I closed my eyes. Trying to keep my voice from shaking too much. “Give the lunchbox back to me.” “Dad, I just want to be a little more full.” He sneered: “Full?” “Your brother can’t even finish one bowl a meal, and I just saw you eat two bowls in the cafeteria! Can you show some restraint!?” “That day you came back from that fried chicken challenge, just looking at you made me feel embarrassed.” “A body stuffed with greasy fried food, what’s the difference between that and a pig ready for slaughter!” My ears started ringing. I wanted to retort, wanted to fight with him. But when I get extremely angry, my condition of crying uncontrollably makes me lose completely. I couldn’t speak, so I could only silently try to snatch the lunchbox back. My dad gave a cold laugh, popped open the lid of the lunchbox, and handed it to my brother standing next to him. “Go, take it and dump it.” I anxiously tried to rush over, but my dad grabbed my arm. His grip was strong, pinching me so hard it hurt. “Watch me cure you of this bad habit today.” My brother smiled, ran to the trash can, and lifted his hand. The entire box of food instantly fell into the filth. “Still want to eat, brother? Come dig it out of the trash.” 4 Returning home that evening, the smell of food wafted from the kitchen; Dad was making my brother’s favorite sweet and sour ribs. Actually, cold sweat had soaked my back ever since I started walking up the stairs. I knew my blood sugar was crashing. I leaned against the wall and shuffled to the kitchen door, my voice floating from weakness: “Dad, I don’t feel well. Could you give me one piece of rib first? Or brother’s cookies, snacks, anything…” Dad didn’t even turn his head. He placed the freshly cooked ribs on the highest shelf where I couldn’t reach, his tone filled with total disbelief: “Not feeling well? You ate two massive bowls in the school cafeteria at noon, what time is it now? Leo, did you smell the meat and get greedy again?” “I didn’t.” Dark spots began to appear in my vision. I tried hard to grip the doorframe. “Dad, I’m really dizzy, my heart is racing.” “Wait,” he interrupted impatiently. “The soup will be ready in a minute. We’ll eat when your mom gets back. Have you forgotten the rules? A kid whining here like a greedy pig before the adults sit down, what does that look like?” “I’m not greedy…” The ringing in my ears grew louder; I could barely hear my own voice. “Dad, please, just one piece of candy.” “How long are you going to keep up this pity act?” He finally glanced back at me, his eyes cold and disgusted. “Look at your brother, quietly doing his homework in the study. He’s never like you, always complaining about being hungry or unwell, trying every trick to get attention!” “You, low blood sugar? Eating so much every day, with that thick layer of fat, what low blood sugar? Who are you putting on a show for?!” My body grew colder, and my hands and feet began to tingle unresponsively. I knew I couldn’t hold on much longer. I turned around, leaning on the wall to head back to my room, wanting to call 911. Dad’s scolding voice kept drifting over: “Go back to your room! Don’t get in the way here and mess up my cooking. I’ll call you when it’s time to eat.” “Just looking at you makes me angry. A perfectly fine kid, not focusing on the right path, always scheming on how to eat more, take more, and fight for attention.” I couldn’t hear what he said next. Operating on pure instinct, I managed to twist the doorknob of my bedroom, but my hands were so weak I couldn’t even pick up my phone. A second before completely losing consciousness, I heard my brother’s crisp voice from the living room: “Dad, the ribs smell so good! I’m hungry, I’m going to grab a piece first.” In a tone completely different from when I asked for food, Dad laughed gently: “Go ahead, eat. It was made for you anyway.” Tears slid down my cheeks. I closed my eyes, and my consciousness plunged into darkness. I was jolted awake again by the sound of Mom coming home. “The food looks great tonight. Where’s Leo? Why isn’t he eager to eat today?” Dinner’s ready? A wave of joy hit me, and I sat up from the floor, wanting to go eat. How strange, after a short nap, my stomach wasn’t hungry anymore, and my head wasn’t dizzy. My hand touched the doorknob. I pushed, but the door didn’t open; instead, my hand passed straight through the handle. I froze for a moment, only then realizing my hand was semi-transparent. I turned around blankly and looked. My body was lying on the floor, contorted and stiff. I suddenly remembered a random fact I’d read before: acute hypoglycemia is fatal. So, I was dead. Just as I plunged into confusion and panic, I heard Dad complaining about me again. “I just lectured him a bit earlier, and now he’s throwing a tantrum and refusing to come out for dinner. Who does he think he is?” Mom laughed and smoothed things over: “I’ll go to his room and call him. He probably has his headphones on and didn’t hear us say it’s time to eat.” Dad scoffed but didn’t object. Mom’s footsteps grew closer and closer.

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On New Year’s Eve, the year I got into university, my parents’ gift to me was to reveal our family held billions in assets. For the first time in fifteen years, I stepped out of that cramped, thirty-five square meter rental apartment. Gazing at the opulent mansion before me, I asked, “Why did you lie to me?” My mother, her arm around a girl who looked seventy percent like me, her face beaming with pride, said, “This is your sister, Cindy. When we found her, she was deeply infatuated, ready to die for some penniless boy.” “To show her how pathetic a life without money can be, our entire family acted out this charade for you.” “See? You got into university on your own merit, and your sister finally saw the poor boy for who he truly was, and is now willing to come home and inherit the family business. These fifteen years were worth it!” My sister looked at me with disdain. “Thanks to having you as a comparison, otherwise, I might have truly believed love conquered all.” So, my fifteen years of suffering were just a grand, elaborate play designed to highlight her and educate her? 1 “Snap.” The crystal chandelier in the villa’s living room stung my eyes, making me instinctively raise a hand to shield them. My hands were rough, chapped, and my knuckles slightly deformed from years of manual labor. “Don’t cover your eyes, Lyra.” My mother’s voice carried an unfamiliar air of elegance and nonchalance. “This is our real home. To celebrate you getting into a prestigious university, and to celebrate your sister, Cindy, finding her way back, today, we have double good news.” I lowered my hand, my vision blurring for a moment, finally focusing on the girl sitting squarely in the center of the sofa. She looked seventy percent like me, her skin glowing white. She was now scrutinizing me with an expression one might reserve for a stray dog. “Mom, is this my… ‘control group’?” The girl spoke, her voice soft and tender. “She does look quite miserable,tsk. Her hair is as dry as straw. If that poor boy saw her dressed so shabbily, he’d probably run for the hills overnight.” I stood frozen, the canvas sneakers on my feet felt scorching hot like branding irons. “What do you mean?” I heard my own voice trembling. My father sat in a single armchair, no longer holding a cheap cigarette but a fine cigar. “It means, your fifteen years of poverty are over.” “Lyra, fifteen years ago we found your sister, Cindy Gant. She was foolish back then, insistent on eloping with a petty thug.” “To teach her a lesson, to make her understand the misery of a penniless marriage, we decided to use you as a negative example.” “We lived with you in that rental, ate leftovers, wore secondhand clothes, all to show your sister how pathetic a person lives without money, like a dog.” Boom! I stared at the people I had called Mom and Dad for fifteen years, watching the taken-for-granted expressions on their faces. “Acting?” I took a step forward, my voice hoarse. “Then the year I had that high fever in junior high, and you said we had no money for a doctor, making me drink ginger tea and try to sweat it out, nearly getting pneumonia—that was acting too?” “Me, fainting in gym class from hunger, trying to save lunch money for study guides—that was acting too?” “My hands, covered in chilblains in winter, still having to fold cardboard boxes to earn living expenses—that was acting too?” My mother frowned, as if my questions were too noisy. “Alright, don’t bring up those old, dusty grieGants. If it weren’t for that, would you have gotten into a top university? You should thank us for giving you this opportunity to temper your will.” Cindy set down her cup and walked towards me. A wave of expensive perfume washed over me, masking the persistent damp, musty smell that clung to my own clothes. “Sister, one must learn to be content.” “These fifteen years, Mom and Dad may have neglected you materially, but they gave you immense spiritual wealth.” “Look at me. Though I lived a life of luxury, I nearly let love cloud my judgment. It was watching you struggle like an ant, turning red-faced over a few coins, that finally made me realize.” She leaned in close to my ear, chuckling softly. “Watching you walk for miles to save two gold coins on bus fare, watching you be humiliated for a part-time job slot, I truly thought… money is wonderful.” “You are the best wake-up call of my life.” I trembled all over, my blood seemingly flowing backward. The best wake-up call? My fifteen years of blood and tears, my countless nights of weeping, my self-respect humbled to dust. In their eyes, all of it was just teaching material to educate another daughter? “You… you’re disgusting.” I forced the words through gritted teeth. “Slap!” A sharp slap landed heavily on my face. “You insolent girl! Is that how you speak to your sister?” “Are you getting too big for your britches?” “Now that you know the truth, know your place! In this house, Cindy is the moon in the sky, and you’re at most a firefly on the ground. Don’t even dream of comparing yourself to her!” I clutched my burning face, tasting a hint of blood in my mouth. In that moment, I finally understood. That thirty-five square meter rental apartment wasn’t my hell. This opulent mansion was. “Alright, stop making that morbid face.” My mother shot me a disgusted glance, then turned to Cindy, her face full of doting affection. “Cindy, take your sister to the mall tomorrow, buy her some decent clothes. Your grandfather’s birthday banquet is in a few days. Don’t let her shabby appearance embarrass the Thorne family.” Cindy casually filed her nails. “Got it. I could use a bag-holder anyway.” The next day, I was taken to the city’s most exclusive department store. For fifteen years, I had passed by it countless times, never daring to glance inside. The air conditioning inside was strong, raising goosebumps on my skin. Cindy walked ahead, her heels clicking crisply on the marble floor. I followed behind, feeling like a beggar who had stumbled into a heavenly palace. “This one, this one, and that one too.” Cindy pointed casually at a few dresses, and the sales associate immediately took them down with a beaming smile. “Go try them on.” She tossed the clothes to me. I walked into the fitting room, cradling garments with five-figure price tags. The girl in the mirror was sallow and gaunt, her collarbones prominent, ribs clearly visible. I put on a pink lace dress. It was beautiful. But on me, it hung loosely, making me look like a clown in stolen adult clothes. I walked out of the fitting room. Cindy was sitting on a sofa, drinking coffee. She burst out laughing when she saw me. “Oh my God, Mom, look.” She pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of me. “How does that dress look like a rag on her? She can’t carry it at all.” My mother chimed in. “No help for it, her foundation is too poor. Not eating well for fifteen years, her development is stunted. Not like our Cindy, a natural clothes horse.” The sales associate offered an awkward smile. “The second young lady is indeed… a bit too thin.” “Thin? That’s poverty-stricken.” Cindy walked over, reaching out to pinch the meager flesh on my arm. “Tsk, tsk, all bone, hard to touch.” “But then again, if we’d fed you well and made you plump back then, how else would I have learned about the hardships of the common folk?” “I’m not buying anything.” I said softly, turning to go back into the fitting room. “Stop right there.” My mother’s cold voice cut through the air. “Who gave you permission to throw a tantrum? Buying you clothes is a privilege. Don’t be ungrateful.” “This one, and those other ones she tried on, wrap them all up.” She pulled out a black card and handed it to the sales associate. “Wear these clothes, and get rid of that impoverished aura. Remember, you are a Thorne daughter. Even if you’re just a foil, don’t be too embarrassing.” Returning home, it was dinner time. The long dining table was laden with dishes I didn’t recognize. Australian lobster, black truffle foie gras, and sashimi still nestled on ice. I sat at the far end, picking up a knife and fork, my hands somewhat stiff. For fifteen years, I had only used bamboo chopsticks, two gold coins a pair. “Hmph.” A soft laugh reached my ears. Cindy cut a piece of steak, her eyes full of amusement as she watched me. “Mom, look at how she holds her knife. Doesn’t it look like she’s sawing wood?” The entire family’s attention focused on my hands. I was struggling to cut through the medium-rare steak, the blade scraping against the plate with a harsh, grating sound. My father frowned, cursing, “You ill-mannered girl!” “You can’t even eat properly. What have you learned in these fifteen years?” I put down my knife and fork, lowering my head, looking at the bloody steak on my plate, my stomach churning. “I’m sorry.” “What good is ‘I’m sorry’?” Cindy elegantly wiped the corner of her mouth, her tone dismissive. “Some things, you know, are ingrained in the bone. Even if you wear a royal robe, you won’t look like a prince.” “Sister, your destiny is to eat street food your whole life.” My mother sighed, pushing a barely touched salad in front of me. “Alright, don’t waste good food. You eat this. It’s healthy and suits your stomach.” I picked up the fork, one cold leaf after another, mechanically chewing and swallowing. Like training a newly adopted stray dog. The month before university started was the longest agony of my life. In this house, I lived like a transparent ghost, or a servant on call. At Cindy’s parties, I was the tea-serving attendant; when Cindy went shopping, I was the bag-carrying labor; when Cindy was in a bad mood, I was her emotional trash bin. I endured. Because I held my university acceptance letter. I was the top science student in the province. With that score, I had secured a national scholarship for overseas study, fully funded, to pursue computer science at a world-renowned university. As long as I survived this summer, I could escape, completely free myself from this twisted family. This was my only hope. That night, I was organizing my visa documents in my room. The door was suddenly pushed open, without a knock. My mother walked in, followed by Cindy, who had a playful look on her face. “What are you doing?” My mother casually flipped through the documents on my desk, her gaze falling on the red public scholarship certificate. “Packing, preparing for university.” I took the certificate back, carefully tucking it into a folder. “Oh, that.” My mother sat down nonchalantly. “Lyra, we need to discuss something with you.” “What is it?” “Your sister also wants to study abroad, but her grades… you know, she neglected her studies because of dating.” My mother paused, glancing at Cindy. Cindy was leisurely fiddling with my passport. “So?” I stared intensely at my mother. “So, we want you to give that scholarship slot to your sister.” “What did you say?” I looked at her in disbelief. “How can I give it to her? It’s registered under my name! I earned this through my hard work!” “Oh, don’t get so agitated.” My mother frowned. “Your father has already made arrangements. As long as you sign a voluntary relinquishment statement and write a letter of recommendation, plus the building our family donated to the university, transferring the slot won’t be an issue.” “Why should I?” “This is my only way out! I earned this by studying day and night, ruining my eyes, wearing down my body!” “If Cindy Gant wants to study abroad, your family has billions. You can send her anywhere! Why steal my scholarship slot?” “Because I want the prestige.” Cindy tossed the passport back onto the desk, speaking airily. “Going abroad with money is just ‘gilding.’ It doesn’t sound good. A scholarship student, that’s a genius, an academic star. I need that title to command respect when I take over the company later.” She walked up to me, her finger poking my shoulder. “Besides, sister. Someone like you, who only knows how to bury herself in books, will just be a bookworm abroad. I’m different. I need this platform to expand my network, to see the world.” “This opportunity would be wasted on you. Better to give it to me, so I can create value for the family.” “I won’t sign.” I gritted my teeth, fiercely guarding the folder. “This is my life. You have no right to take it.” “Lyra Thorne!” A furious roar came from the doorway. My father walked in. “Are you getting too big for your britches? Us discussing it with you is a privilege!” “Your very life was given by me, and your education was funded by me! Without this family, what are you?” “Funded me?” I laughed, tears streaming down my face. “For fifteen years, my tuition was fully waived, and my living expenses came from folding cardboard boxes and collecting bottles! Did you ever give me a single coin?” “That’s because we gave you life!” My father strode over, snatching the folder from my arms. “Today, you will sign this, whether you want to or not!” “Give it back! That’s mine!” I lunged, desperate to grab it. “Slap!” My father backhanded me, sending me sprawling to the ground. The folder fell, its papers scattering. Cindy walked over, her heel grinding hard on the red certificate. “You chose the hard way.” She looked down at me. “Sister, you don’t actually think you can escape our grasp, do you?”

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