Category: English

The day I was diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder, my longtime crush finally confessed his love. He gathered his friends and family, chartered a luxury cruise ship, and threw a massive engagement party. Thus began our week-long romantic getaway. But when midnight struck… A romantic requiem echoed through the ship… Lock your door, Ms. Rabbit, cover your face tight. Your breathing will stop, you won’t toss turning tonight. Rest in peace, beautiful soul, in the pale moonlight. Slowly, the number of living people on board began to dwindle. 1 The day my DID diagnosis became official, my world lost all its color. Outside, rain poured in sheets. Inside, I stood clutching my medical file, tears streaming down my face. My parents had kicked me out, and my best friend was ignoring my calls. Just when I thought the whole world had abandoned me, Cole appeared. He took me back to the Vance family estate and confessed to me in front of all his friends and relatives: “Mia, I promise you, no matter what happens, I will never leave you. I love you, and I will love all of your personalities.” Cole’s parents were incredibly open-minded. Flipping through my medical file, they said: “A famous actress and a psychologist? Such positive personalities! Mia, this just goes to show what a kind-hearted child you are!” “Exactly! Our son is so lucky. He gets to marry two wonderful girls at once!” I frantically wiped the tears from my face and forced a smile. They didn’t know that besides the host personality, I had been diagnosed with a third. The Rainy Night Butcher. The moment I touch rainwater, that bloodthirsty version of me is unleashed. Just like right now. No one noticed that a page was missing from the medical file. 2 The next morning, numerous dead cats and dogs were found in the upscale gated community where the Vance family lived. At the breakfast table, the atmosphere was peaceful. No one suspected me. I breathed a sigh of relief. But a neighbor had somehow caught wind of my illness and splashed a huge bucket of red paint on the Vance family’s front door. Before leaving, they didn’t forget to drop a threat: “Keep your psycho locked up!” “I did it! It has nothing to do with Mia!” Perhaps fearing his parents would look at me differently, Cole actually took the blame. I was moved, but also anxious. Could someone like me really be accepted by his parents? To my surprise, his parents didn’t make a fuss. Instead, they came over to comfort me: “Of course we believe Mia. Don’t listen to what those people outside say. How about this: our family will take a cruise for a few days, and we’ll come back when the butler has cleaned this up.” “Okay.” I naturally had no reason to refuse. After packing a few clothes, I followed the Vance family onto the cruise ship. The Vance family controlled a leading corporation in New York, one of the wealthiest families around. And Cole was a top-tier elite lawyer. They weren’t short on cash; chartering a multi-million dollar cruise ship was nothing to them. Besides being shocked, I was also a bit confused. Was it necessary to spend so much money just for a few days’ getaway? It wasn’t until we boarded the ship, amidst a shower of rose petals, that Cole got down on one knee: “Mia, I love you, until death do us part.” I finally understood. He was proposing to me. This cruise ship was his gift to me. There were thirty people on board in total. Aside from the twenty service staff we brought along… The rest were Cole’s friends, family, the butler, and bodyguards. They came here to witness my love with Cole. The moment he slipped the ring onto my finger, I thought, all of us here… Were the happiest family in the world. We embarked on a one-week romantic getaway. Cole said he wanted to give me the most beautiful scenery of my life. But only a day later, he changed his mind. 3 “Cole, what’s wrong? It’s me, Mia, open the door!” “Stay away from me! You psycho!” Hearing this, my face turned deathly pale. My body lost all its strength, and I slumped outside the guest room door. What exactly happened? Could it be… Devastated, I walked out onto the deck, staring at the sparkling sea. I asked with hatred: “What did you do this time?” The waves rolled in one after another, as if my face was changing from one to another. The smile at the corner of her mouth was mechanical and eerie. Her eyes were full of mockery as she parted her red lips: “Guess.” Enough! I flew into a rage! I grabbed an empty wine bottle and hurled it fiercely. Water splashed everywhere. That face gradually disappeared. Replaced by my tears. I lowered my head and found a few drag marks of red on the floor. Stretching towards the edge of the ship. There was also a bloody handprint on the railing. Below was the bottomless ocean. Suddenly, I realized something and my body stiffened. Looking back, the deck was completely empty. But I clearly remembered everyone being here just a moment ago? I tore at my hair, trying desperately to remember, but I couldn’t recall the missing fragments. I only remembered… At dusk, everyone was dead drunk. Except for me. Cole took care of me, intercepting a lot of drinks for me. But he wasn’t so lucky. He lay on the deck and slept for a few hours. The sea breeze was very cold. I covered him with a light blanket and sat beside him, singing a lullaby. Then I fell asleep too. “What exactly are you trying to do to me?!” I hugged my head, kneeling on the deck, screaming in agony. A red light flashed across my eyes in the distance. Such a familiar blinking frequency. There seemed to be many similar light sources on this ship. They were like human eyes, monitoring me, torturing me. In the silent night, besides my voice… There was also a faint, trembling sound of breathing coming from behind. My blood suddenly began to boil. Even without turning around, I knew it was the person I loved the most—Cole. No matter what… He couldn’t leave me… I rubbed my eyes, gritted my teeth, tremblingly picked up a bottle of wine, and walked slowly towards him. Under the moonlight, my shadow stretched very long. 4 The next day, when I woke up, Cole was sleeping right beside me. He held me in his arms, sleeping soundly. I poked his dimple and broke free from his embrace. As soon as I got up, he grabbed my waist: “Why are you up so early, babe?” My face flushed, and I scolded playfully: “Keep your hands to yourself!” “Is my babe shy?” Cole kissed my back through my clothes, muttering: “Why didn’t you change into pajamas?” Then he pulled me back down and pressed himself against me. I narrowed my eyes, catching out of the corner of my eye that the red light had gone out. Just as I was about to push Cole away, someone knocked on the door: “Mr. Vance, Ms. Lin, it’s time for breakfast.” It was a crew member. I breathed a sigh of relief. Opening the door, a girl with pigtails forced a smile: “Mr. and Mrs. Vance have been waiting for you in the dining room for a long time.” I nodded: “We’ll be right there.” Then I ducked into the bathroom to wash up. Perhaps because the door wasn’t closed tight, I could hear the conversation outside while brushing my teeth. The girl’s overly sweet voice came through: “Mr. Vance, let me help you put this on. Oh, I’m sorry, I’m so clumsy, how did I fall on you? Mr. Vance, are you alright?” My reflection in the water smiled a half-smile: “Someone’s trying to steal your man right in front of you, and you’re not angry?” I shook my head, silently replying to her: “I believe in Cole.” Sure enough, Cole didn’t disappoint me. He stood up and yelled: “Get out!” Then he squeezed in, looking aggrieved, and hugged me: “Babe, someone’s seducing your husband, aren’t you going to do something about it!” I pressed my forehead against his and rewarded him with a hug: “Good job, my Cole is the best.” “Hmph, you’re just humoring me!” Cole was right. I was indeed humoring him. Because I wasn’t in the mood to be lovey-dovey with him right now. My head was full of what happened last night. My anxiety lasted until we entered the dining room. When I saw everyone was there, I was finally comforted. So it was just a dream. Our happy family is still all here, that’s great. “Did Mia sleep well last night?” Cole’s mom poured me a glass of cranberry juice and asked with a smile. I looked at the bright red drink, and a blurry image flashed through my mind. “I slept very well, even had a dream.” “Oh? What did you dream about?” I chewed on a freshly cut sausage, narrowed my eyes, and tried hard to recall. A few seconds later, I had a sudden realization: “I remember now, I was slaughtering pigs.” After saying that, I put down my knife and fork and swept my gaze over the people in the dining room one by one. Silently counting in my heart… One, two, three… twenty-nine. We’re missing one person! I asked calmly: “Cole, did everyone come for breakfast?” The man was focused on peeling an egg for me: “They should all be here… Wait…” He paused, as if remembering something, and continued: “Where’s that chubby guy who makes the cakes? Don’t make pistachio mousse today. Mia is allergic, she can’t eat nuts.” “That brat disappeared first thing this morning! Don’t worry, Mr. Vance, there absolutely won’t be any more mistakes with today’s meals!” The head chef standing nearby answered respectfully. But as soon as he finished, the smile on Cole’s lips froze. Consequently, the hand peeling the egg also trembled slightly. I leaned close, patted his back, and whispered comfortingly in his ear: “Cole, I’m here.” He forced a smile that looked worse than crying: “Babe, let’s get married, okay?” The friends and family around us raised their glasses and cheered again, celebrating and shouting for us. I ruffled his hair: “Okay, I’ll always stay by Cole’s side.” Cole’s eyes were red. In my arms, he looked like an abandoned puppy. Across the table, Cole’s parents watched us with gratification. After rushing the wedding, they started rushing us for a baby: “Give us a good grandchild soon!” I shyly lowered my head, catching out of the corner of my eye a few servers secretly rolling their eyes in the corner. Sigh. Too bad, my boyfriend is too popular. What should I do?

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According to the transmigrator, I am the vicious male supporting character who pesters the male lead endlessly. The male lead is my childhood friend, the favored son of heaven. After failing to conquer the male lead, the transmigrator exposed my secret crush in front of him. Facing the male lead’s careful questioning, I did not deny it. After my confession failed, I retracted all special treatment. No more indulging his closeness, no more accepting excessive physical contact, no more watching him. Upon learning I made a new best friend, the male lead exploded with separation anxiety and severe codependency. His condition was so serious that even my new friend couldn’t help but say: “You’re driving him crazy.” I didn’t think I was that important, until he truly lost his mind in front of me. 1 The day I learned my life was just a supporting role, I accepted the fact calmly. After all, if you were attacked by a mutant as a child, lost your spiritual power, were abandoned by your family early on, and failed to awaken as a Sentinel or Guide upon reaching adulthood while everyone around you excelled, it’s hard to believe you are the protagonist of the world. The match in the arena continued. sitting in the stands, my attention couldn’t help but be drawn to the golden bullet comments scrolling endlessly above the head of a strange Guide in front of me. From their fragments, I pieced together a truth. This world is a power fantasy novel. The protagonist is my childhood friend, Caleb. He is a very compelling “villainous protagonist,” starting with max-level stats: 3S-level spiritual power, direct imperial lineage, top-tier looks and wealth, and the support of heirs from various powerful families. Unlike other male leads who grow through setbacks or hide their strength, Caleb never hides his power. He kills without a word, slashing his way from beginning to end. However, at the end of the story, after killing the strongest mutant, when everyone thought he would ascend the throne surrounded by the masses, he suddenly turned dark and destroyed the world. To save the world, the System bound the strange Guide in front of me, who had transmigrated into the book, tasking him with conquering Caleb and preventing his corruption. Perhaps I stared at him for too long. The strange Guide turned his head. He froze for a moment, then looked at me with disgust and contempt. The comments above his head instantly flashed a wave of malicious remarks about me. The most repeated words were [Cannon Fodder], [Shameless], [Bitch], [Still Alive]… In the mouths of these comments, I am the vicious cannon fodder who knows Caleb doesn’t like me but relies on our childhood friendship to pester him. Caleb, out of consideration for old times, is unwilling to speak harshly to me, but actually hates me very much. The bell signaling the end of the match rang. I was still dazed by the words in the comments. People around me stood up excitedly, cheering and surging towards the arena in the center. I was a moment late getting up to follow the crowd. I had just taken a few steps towards the arena when a figure quickly pushed through the crowd, rushed from the ring, and hugged me. A scorching aura wrapped me from head to toe. The hard chest armor pressed painfully against my cheek. I could almost hear the blood boiling in his veins. Caleb lifted me up by the waist, lowered his head to rub intentionally against my neck, then loosened his grip, revealing a flamboyant and slightly silly smile: “I won!” This was an overly intimate gesture, but the people around were used to it. “Mmh.” I patted his head, praising him skillfully: “Very impressive.” “Caleb!” A crisp voice suddenly interjected. I patted Caleb’s arm. After he reluctantly let go, I turned to look in the direction of the voice. The strange Guide from before squeezed out of the crowd, looked up at Caleb, blinked, and asked crisply: “Who is he?” Caleb put his arm around my shoulder, as if just remembering, and introduced to me: “This is the new S-class Guide joining our squad, Lucas.” Then he turned to Lucas and said: “This is my best, best friend, Julian.” He emphasized the word “best” and said it twice, his tone certain and proud. I extended my hand to Lucas: “Hello.” “Hello, hello.” Lucas shook my hand, asking curiously, “Are you a Sentinel or a Guide?” I smiled and replied calmly: “I am an ordinary person.” “Ah.” Lucas seemed shocked, saying innocently yet flusteredly, “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t expect Caleb’s friend to be a… person without spiritual power.” He was apologizing, but his expression when looking at me seemed to say “a useless person without spiritual power.” He was sure only I could see his expression from this angle, but a terrifying spiritual pressure descended on the entire venue the second his words came out. A spiritual entity in the form of a Qiongqi (a mythical winged tiger), shrunk to the size of a palm, jumped onto my shoulder, panic-stricken, trying to cover my ears. Caleb indeed hadn’t seen his expression, but mentioning my spiritual power was Caleb’s taboo. I patted the back of Caleb’s hand. Caleb looked at me and withdrew the spiritual pressure that was on the verge of losing control. Only then did Lucas retreat a step, face pale. He looked up at me in fear, tears welling in his eyes: “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong? I, I didn’t mean to… will you forgive me?” The comments above his head started spamming again: [Ahhh, how can Caleb treat our Lu-bao like this!] [Life sentence without wife! I sentence him to life without a wife!] [So angry. Wait until the conquest succeeds, see how he begs for forgiveness in the crematorium!] [Is the vicious male supporting character cheap or what? Is it worth holding onto this little thing? Knowing an ordinary person like him isn’t worthy, why doesn’t he leave? Does he have to insert himself between our couple?] I lowered my eyes. The “it’s okay” I wanted to say was stuck in my throat. Caleb noticed the subtle change in my emotions immediately. The shrunken Qiongqi on my shoulder jumped anxiously. He also reached out to grab my hand. I avoided his movement, took the Qiongqi from my shoulder into my palm, squeezed it gently, then turned to Lucas and smiled: “It’s okay, you didn’t say anything wrong.” 2 [Big news! Will the new S-class Guide stay in Caleb’s squad?] [What happened? Yesterday we were discussing if the new Guide could conquer Caleb, how come today it’s a question if he can even stay?] [He mentioned Julian’s spiritual power.] [And he mentioned it in front of Julian and Caleb.] [That’s it then.] [No way—I just bought stocks in the new Guide. Heard his compatibility with Caleb is 90%.] [Does no one think Julian is excessive? The new Guide didn’t know he lacked spiritual power. What’s wrong with asking? And he apologized. Is it necessary to be so dramatic?] [??? You dare say it, I dare not listen.] [Those who mocked Julian to his face for losing spiritual power have been mining coal in District 10 for two years.] [Before Caleb reaches the battlefield, Julian’s research fans will blow up your account.] [Can participants in account bombing get priority to buy Julian’s new weapons? If so, count me in.] [+1, our squad has been queuing for three months.] [Should we go kneel in front of Julian and beg him to research how to expand production?] [Can I kneel too?] [Yes.] [If not, take all our savings.] [Can I give too?] [Yes.] Lucas angrily exited the Star Net forum. Walking in the mall with two other Sentinels from Caleb’s squad, he sighed after closing his terminal, looking very worried: “Sigh, is Julian unwilling to forgive me?” “No, don’t overthink it. Julian is a very nice person.” The Sentinel didn’t hear the undertone of Lucas silently applying eye drops (sowing discord) and comforted him, “Yesterday, Caleb wanted to submit your application to leave the team, and it was Julian who stopped him.” Lucas choked. He took a deep breath and continued: “Isn’t there a joint exercise in three days? I want to buy him a gift to apologize. Can you tell me what he likes or hates?” “Julian? He doesn’t seem to have any special preferences.” Another Sentinel scratched his head in confusion, “If you ask us, you might as well ask Caleb. He understands Julian better.” The first Sentinel nodded. Seeing Lucas reaching for a leaf-shaped necklace, he seemed to remember something and said: “But you’d better not give him a necklace.” Seeing Lucas look over in confusion, he explained: “Julian has a necklace he really likes. Since we’ve known him, we’ve never seen him change it. If you give a necklace, he probably won’t wear it.” Lucas’s hand paused, shifting from the necklace to a brooch, but his eyes flickered imperceptibly. The joint exercise took place in the Northern Pollution Zone. When Lucas found me, I was sitting on a large gray rock not far from the temporary camp, verifying the optimization model of a weapon based on the data just recorded. Caleb sat beside me, playing with my left hand out of boredom. He stepped on the accumulated snow. Before he got close, Caleb raised his eyes alertly, his gaze sharp and cold. Lucas froze instantly, as if doused with ice water from head to toe. Comments scrolled before his eyes. [Damn it, when will the male lead know the true face of the vicious male supporting character?] [Lu-bao don’t be afraid. Today you are ignored, tomorrow you are out of his league.] [So angry. Vicious male supporting character relies on the male lead not knowing his feelings to be so close. When the male lead remembers later, he’ll be disgusted.] [Ahhh torture me to death. Clearly Lu-bao is here to save the world and him, the male lead knows nothing and glares at our Lu-bao.] [Just wait. The male lead is guaranteed to regret it later.] I put down the pen, withdrew my hand held by Caleb, looked up at Lucas standing in the snow daring not to speak for a while, and smiled gently: “Do you have something to say to me?” Lucas walked a bit closer, took out a beautifully wrapped gift box, looked up pitifully: “I’m here to apologize for last time. Can you accept my apology?” I stood up. Caleb walked in front of me with me. Lucas was saying sorry to me, but his eyes were constantly on Caleb. I sighed, signaled Caleb to leave first with my eyes. After Caleb walked away reluctantly, I looked at him again, tone flat: “I’m not angry.” “Really? Then can you accept my gift?” Lucas opened the gift box happily, revealing a blue gem brooch inside. Before I could react, he picked up the brooch and pinned it on my collar. I was stunned for a moment by his sudden offensive action. In that instant, Lucas’s finger hooked the cord of the necklace around my neck. Don’t know what he did, but the necklace with the pendant broke in the middle and fell to the ground with a bang. “Ah.” Lucas cried out in panic, hurriedly reaching to pick it up. The pendant that looked like jade didn’t break. Lucas gritted his teeth, pretended to lose his balance, and threw the necklace in his hand out again. I looked at him coldly. After he accidentally threw the necklace out for the third time, I called his name softly: “Lucas.” The next moment, a cold gun muzzle was aimed at his head. I smiled, still gentle: “You’d better not make me angry.” Lucas’s body stiffened after seeing what I was holding. Physiological fear made his face pale instantly. He looked at me almost in terror. I said: “Pick it up. The pendant casing is made of special alloy; it won’t break.” Lucas picked up the necklace tremblingly and held it in front of me. I took the necklace and sighed again: “I sent the books, celebrities, and battles Caleb likes to your terminal. If you want to pursue Caleb, you can take a look at these.” “If there’s anything you don’t understand, you can ask me. But you’d better have your own ideas.” Lucas was completely stunned. “Why?” He looked at me stiffly, almost losing his voice. “No need to treat me as an enemy.” The coldness in my brows dissipated, revealing my usual gentleness, “Of course I hope he can be happy.” [???] [???????] [????????????] The comments above Lucas’s head were almost screened by question marks. [He’s actually kinda nice?] [Done for, I’m about to fall in love with him.] [Thinking carefully, the vicious male supporting character doesn’t seem to have done anything bad, always quite gentle.] 3 Meanwhile on the Star Net forum, a post was rapidly building high. [Shocking, I’m at the joint exercise site, guess what I just saw] [Image] [Image] [Image] [WTF, why is Julian pointing a gun at Lucas? What did Lucas do to him?] [Haven’t seen Julian’s cold face for a long time, so nostalgic.] [I’ll call him Master first out of respect.] [So what is the reason? Where is the OP? Don’t tease and run.] [Seems like Lucas broke Julian’s necklace.] [Video] [Video] [Is it that necklace Julian never takes off? Then he’s done for.] [Speaking of which, why does Julian care so much about this necklace? Is it a relic or something?] [Or the first gift Caleb gave him?] [No, I remember Caleb asked who gave him this necklace. Julian didn’t tell him after being asked for a long time.] [Ahhh I really want to know. Scratching my heart and liver anxiously.] [Star Net’s tenth unsolved mystery: Why does Julian treasure his necklace so much?] … I reconnected the necklace and put it back on, walking back to the camp with Lucas. Around the bonfire, small tents were set up in the snow. I led Lucas to the tent shared by me and Caleb, and started packing my things. Caleb, who just returned from a surprise inspection, saw the scene of me and Lucas moving things out. He froze for a moment, unable to react. I had already skillfully blocked his mouth before he could speak. “I need to think quietly about the research plan tonight. Lucas happens to be alone. I discussed with him to swap tents tonight.” Caleb stared at me with a long face for a while, then muffled an “Oh.” I wasn’t completely lying to him about studying the plan tonight. Under the dim light, the tip of my pen crossed one formula after another, but the terminal on my wrist suddenly vibrated. I stopped writing and clicked open the message from Lucas. [What was the key to victory in the Battle of Xuanyan?] I entered the answer and forwarded a summary of the Battle of Xuanyan. Not long after, Lucas’s message popped up again: [Does Caleb like General Mo? Should I praise him or scold him?] I typed silently. [He asked me which commander in history I think is the strongest. What should I say?] I was speechless for a while, replying: [You can have your own ideas.] Quietly created a few more opportunities for them to be alone. Two months later, Lucas felt the time was ripe. [Really confess now?] The comments raised a question. “Of course.” Lucas said confidently, “I confess to him first. In the future, when he thinks of me, he will think of the fact that I like him, and slowly he will fall.” “Besides, last time on the mission, Caleb came to save me immediately. Maybe he already likes me unconsciously.” [I’m still a bit worried. Maybe tell Julian first?] Impatience appeared between Lucas’s brows. He pursed his lips and said: “Caleb won’t like Julian anyway. What use is his opinion. I am the chosen one. Whose side are you on anyway!” The comments shut up. So in the evening, Lucas stopped Caleb coming out of the training room. “I like you.” Under the setting sun, the handsome boy looked up to confess. It should have been a dreamy and beautiful scene, but it was shattered by the ruthless words of the person opposite. “I will submit your transfer application tomorrow.” “Why?” Lucas panicked instantly, “No, you can’t do this. Our compatibility is 90%. I am the most suitable person to be by your side. You can’t do this, the higher-ups won’t agree…” “Of course I can. Do you want to test my power?” Caleb said expressionlessly, “Leave. I won’t keep people with impure thoughts around me.” Lucas broke down. He hissed: “If you can’t accept me continuing to stay by your side, what about Julian?! He likes you too. Can you tolerate him?” Full screen of question marks scrolled through the comments: [????] [??????????] [Can’t do it. This time I really can’t stand with you. Julian helped you so much, and in the end you backstab him like this.] [Some people being disliked has a reason.] [Ahhh previously I whitewashed those behaviors with saving the world or destined soulmates. This time I really can’t whitewash.] [Don’t! If Caleb alienates Julian because of this, I’ll feel it’s my fault.] [Done for, done for. Julian is coming this way.] “What did you say?” Caleb’s expression finally changed. He frowned at Lucas. Lucas simply smashed the pot (went for broke): “I said Julian likes you. Not the friend kind of like. Are you going to drive him away too?” Don’t know which word poked Caleb’s lung tube (hit a nerve), Caleb’s anger was instantly ignited: “What nonsense are you talking about!” The tall Qiongqi spiritual entity rushed out, pouncing on Lucas without any buffer. Sharp claws and teeth were about to attack his neck. Lucas fell to the ground in embarrassment. Fear bubbled up uncontrollably. Golden comments flew past his eyes. He grabbed the most frequent word on them: “Julian!” A familiar profile appeared in his peripheral vision. Lucas shouted in panic: “Julian, save me!” 4 “Are you still angry?” Under the dim evening light, Caleb hung his head, following behind me ready to be scolded. His spiritual entity’s tail and ears drooped, trailing listlessly beside him. My pace was neither fast nor slow, tone without fluctuation: “Why should I be angry?” “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” Caleb tugged at the corner of my shirt, saying indignantly and somewhat unconvinced, “He talked nonsense first.” I stopped, finally turning my head to look at him: “What did he say?” Caleb’s expression stiffened. He hemmed and hawed, pulling east and west for a long time, telling the whole story of Lucas coming to confess to him, before carefully saying lightly in a joking tone: “So funny, he actually said you like me. I wouldn’t…” “It’s true,” I said. Caleb froze. He stared at me blankly. I nodded and affirmed again: “It’s true.” “W-What do you mean?” Caleb stammered, voice getting smaller. I looked at him, saying calmly: “It means exactly what you think. I like you.” “Huh? You… uh, I…” Caleb’s eyes went straight, as if experiencing a worldview reconstruction. The whole person seemed silly. He stumbled, “I, I never thought… we… but…” “I know.” I pulled back the sleeve corner he was holding, saying softly, “I accept your rejection.” “Wait!” Caleb subconsciously grabbed my wrist. “Don’t go yet.” All past persistence was thrown to the back of his mind. Inexplicable panic made him eager to get an answer from me, “We are still friends, right! Right?!” “…” I looked at him quietly for a while, said: “Mmh.” Caleb’s intuition was not wrong. If he didn’t ask me to stay, I would completely withdraw from his life. Of course, didn’t mean that because he asked me to stay, I wouldn’t leave. When Caleb rushed down from the arena victorious to hug me again, I didn’t refuse. But after a few seconds, when this hug was about to exceed the meaning of a friend’s congratulation, I pushed him away. Caleb stared blankly at his empty arms, only coming back to his senses when a teammate patted his arm. Then he looked up and saw me talking and laughing with another teammate of his as if nothing had happened. Caleb couldn’t say what was wrong, but an overflowing sourness blocked his chest dully. Hands reaching out to pull people were cleverly avoided, heads leaning over were pushed away, smiling eyes no longer stayed on him. Caleb lowered his eyes, expression heavy. Half a month later, Star Net Forum: [What’s wrong with Caleb lately? All the Sentinels in the training ground aren’t enough for him to beat up.] [Just like this after not sniffing Julian for two days.] [Is he watching Julian too closely recently? Only two days. Wasn’t like this before.] [Clingy index went up? Used to take a week of not seeing him to start getting anxious.] [Don’t know. They are weird lately. Quarreled?] [Last time participating in a 3-day 2-night mission, Julian didn’t sleep with Caleb at night.] [I was there too. Wasn’t that because another researcher was there, and Julian wanted to discuss ideas with him?] [Anyway Caleb’s face stunk to death the whole time after.] [Feel something is wrong but can’t say what.] [I have even more explosive news, do you want to hear?] [What what?] [Ears perked.] [Isn’t Julian going to the Southern Pollution Zone frontline battlefield in two days? This time the escort squad he designated is not Caleb’s team, but Arthur’s.] [!!!!!!!!!] [No way—how are my two wives together?]

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Midnight. My phone was vibrating off the hook. Brenda from 1107 had tagged me eighteen times in the residents’ group chat. “To the young lady in 1207, the holidays are coming up. Try to find some decency!” “The way you beat that child every day… the noise is going to give me a heart attack!” I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and typed back. “I live alone. You must be mistaken.” Suddenly, Doris, the owner of 1307, jumped in. “Honey, when you’re wrong, just admit it. Being stubborn won’t get you anywhere.” “I’m a stickler for details. When I heard the child screaming, I went door to door, listening. It was definitely coming from your apartment.” 1. Brenda was still tagging me. “Stop hitting him! You’re going to kill him!” “The poor thing has cried his voice hoarse. It breaks my heart to listen to it!” “What did he do, commit a mortal sin? Why are you beating him to death?” It was a warm early summer night, but a sudden chill ran down my spine. After buying the apartment, I’d installed blackout curtains to help me sleep. At eleven, the world had been silent. Now, the pitch-black room felt like a place where a monster could materialize and press its face against mine at any moment. The hair on my arms stood on end. I scrambled out of bed, flicking on every light in every room. Only after checking every corner that could possibly hide a person did the fear begin to recede. I looked back at the group chat. 99+ new messages. The neighbors were all chiming in. “LOL, 1207 went silent after getting called out.” “Hasn’t 1207 only been here a little while? I remember her, a real pretty girl. Didn’t expect her to be a mom already, and with such a bad temper.” “You can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your neighbors. You make enemies now, but you’ll come crawling for help one day, and no one will be there for you.” One resident, hiding behind the anonymity of not listing their apartment number, made a crude joke. “What kind of screaming are we talking about? A real kid crying, or one of those adult women who puts on a baby voice?” “Haha, you read my mind. Maybe our pretty neighbor is just playing a certain kind of ‘game.’” “The old ladies just can’t keep up with the times. They don’t know about those games, so they misunderstood, hehe.” … I gritted my teeth and typed a reply. “Brenda, I live alone. I was almost asleep when you started tagging me.” “If you don’t believe me, you’re welcome to come up and see for yourself.” I then addressed the upstairs neighbor. “Doris, you said you were listening at doors. Are you sure you didn’t get the apartment number wrong?” After a brief silence, a reply came from Doris’s account. “This is Doris’s husband. She’s gone to bed. I’ll have her message you tomorrow.” Just then, Brenda tagged me again. “Honey, you said you were almost asleep, but I can see your lights are all on. Do you sleep with the lights on?” That set the neighbors off again. “It’s true, I just stuck my head out the window. Even the living room light is on.” “Wow, our neighbor is really something. Sleeping with all the lights on. Must be nice to be rich!” “I just went and listened at 1207’s door. It’s quiet for now, but there’s a broken action figure on her doormat. One of the arms is snapped off.” “Yikes. You think the kid broke his toy by accident, and she beat him half to death for it?” “What a terrifying mother. Maybe she’s bipolar?” “Whoa, that’s creepy when you think about it. She even invited Brenda to her apartment. What if she was planning to lock the door and come at her with a knife? These days, the crazies get away with murder.” I was completely speechless. I wanted to just leave the group and be done with it. But for the sake of neighborly harmony, I had to explain, point by point. “I only turned the lights on after I saw the messages in the group.” “As for the toy, some kid probably broke it and just left it at my door.” I started a video recording on my phone, doing a continuous shot of every room, and sent it to the group. “Just me. No child.” Still, some were unconvinced. “What does that prove? The kid is probably hiding in a closet or under the bed.” “The people upstairs and downstairs both say it’s you, and you still won’t admit it?” “Am I the only one who thinks something is off here? Maybe 1207 has some bad juju attached to her?” “You mean, like a ghost?” “OMG! Peace, prosperity, and all that jazz.” “Alright, alright, it’s late. This is getting out of hand!” Brenda stepped in to play peacemaker. “Honey, children need patience. You can’t solve everything by hitting them.” “It’s late, so I won’t come over. Just stop and go to sleep.” Staring at the now-quiet group chat, I was at a loss for words. It felt like I’d been caught in a storm that had nothing to do with me. It was nearly one in the morning, and I had a business meeting the next day. I had to get some sleep. I never expected that the next evening at nine, Brenda would start tagging me again, this time spamming the chat with a dozen 60-second voice messages. 2. “Honey, it was wrong of me to call you out in the group yesterday instead of messaging you privately. It’s all my fault, and I apologize.” Her words were slurred, and she sounded like she was crying. “I’m an old woman. If I drop dead, I deserve it. But my little grandson is only five years old! When he can’t sleep, my life is a living hell!” “Please, I’m begging you, have a heart! Stop beating your child and smashing things every night!” Then, Brenda’s son, Rick, started spewing filth in the chat. “1207, you bitch! You dare hit my mother?” He posted a photo of Brenda. There was a clear handprint on her face, swollen to half an inch high. “Everyone look at this! The psycho in 1207 doesn’t just abuse her own kid, she hit my mom too!” “My mom was just walking my son downstairs, and this woman came out of nowhere and slapped her!” “She even threatened my son! Said if he ever dared to squeak in the group chat again, she’d make sure our family never gets another full night’s sleep!” The group chat erupted in righteous fury. “Is this woman even human? She disturbs her neighbors, and instead of apologizing, she slaps them?” “Who does she think she is, acting so high and mighty?” “Threatening a child is unforgivable! Get out here and apologize! @12-7 Ms. Grace.” BANG, BANG, BANG. Someone was pounding on my door with incredible force. It was Rick, Brenda’s son. His face was a mask of rage, and he was holding a meat cleaver. “Get out here and apologize, you bitch!” The cleaver struck my door, making a sharp metallic clang. My heart hammered against my ribs. I scrambled to call property management and the police. I dragged the door jammer into place before I dared to speak. “Please, calm down and listen to me. I didn’t hit your mother. I don’t even know what she looks like. There must be a misunderstanding.” Silence for two seconds, then the pounding started again, even more violent than before. “You fucking bitch, you hit my mom and you won’t even admit it! Get the hell out here!” Seeing that Rick was beyond reason, I had no choice but to find my lease agreement and post a picture of it in the chat, showing I was the sole occupant. “I am single, I have no children, and I have never laid a hand on any neighbor. This is all a huge misunderstanding!” “If I really had a child, wouldn’t one of you in this building have seen them? Has anyone, any single one of you, ever seen me with a child?” The residents, who had been waiting for me to respond, flooded the chat with dozens of messages. “Who knows if that document is real or photoshopped.” “Besides, there are plenty of young women these days who mess around and have a baby they keep secret. If they have it at home and don’t register it, who’s to know?” “I’ve never seen her with a kid, that’s true. But I know one thing: criminals always hide their crimes. You probably just make sure to sneak the kid in and out when none of us are around.” Then, Doris from upstairs posted a video. “Have a look, everyone. I recorded this at 1207’s door. This old lady doesn’t lie!” The video was shaky and a little blurry, as if filmed on a handheld phone. The camera started at the elevator and moved down the hall to a door. As it got closer, a faint crying sound became clearer. When the phone was pressed against the door, the sound exploded, filling the speakers with the piercing screams of a small child. The world spun around me. How was that possible? It was undeniably my apartment. The number was clear, as was the fingerprint lock and the anime character sticker I’d put on it myself. The group chat went into a frenzy. “Haha, you asked for proof, you got proof.” “OMG OMG OMG the drama!” “Everyone be quiet, I want to hear 1207’s excuse for this one.” “@12-7 Ms. Grace, is that your apartment?” I braced myself and typed. “Yes, that’s my apartment.” Just as I was about to explain further, a telemarketer called. I rejected the call, only to see that my unfinished message had sent. I quickly deleted it, but the vultures watching the chat had already seen it. Rick clearly saw it too. He became even more agitated. “What do you have to say for yourself now?” “I might not have much, Rick, but I’ve got brute strength! I swear I’m going to drag you out of there and beat you to death today!” He started ramming his shoulder into the door. The small chandelier above me swayed with the vibrations. “Get out here, you bitch!” Forgetting about the group chat, I checked the door jammer with trembling hands, terrified he would actually break the door down. Just as I was about to call property management again, I heard voices outside. “Sir, please calm down! Don’t do something you’ll regret.” “Give me the cleaver first. We promise we will handle this properly!” Property management was here! I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. My back was soaked in cold sweat. Once I was sure they had the cleaver from Rick, I opened the door. Three property managers were holding Rick back, though he was still cursing at me. I was about to explain when two police officers stepped out of the elevator, their sharp eyes fixed on me. “Are you Ms. Grace, the resident of 1207?” “We received a report that you are a suspect in a child trafficking and abuse case. Please come with us to cooperate with the investigation.” 3. At the police station, I explained everything from the beginning. “I don’t have a child, and I certainly did not assault Brenda.” “As for trafficking and abuse, that’s just ridiculous. You just searched my apartment. Did you find a child, or any evidence that a child has ever been there?” “There has to be something wrong with Doris’s video.” The officer’s face was stern. “Our technical team analyzed the video. There are no signs of tampering.” My mind went blank for a second before I forced myself to stay calm. “I can’t explain the video right now, but I know I didn’t hit Brenda. The security footage will prove it.” The lead investigator walked in. “The building is old. The surveillance systems in the common areas and hallways are severely damaged. We can’t retrieve any footage.” “However, the time you entered the building is consistent with the time Brenda was assaulted.” The officers looked at me with a mixture of suspicion and scrutiny. “Ms. Grace, we don’t wrongfully accuse innocent people, but we don’t let criminals go, either.” In the end, due to a lack of concrete evidence, I was released. The police instructed me not to leave the city so they could continue their investigation. It was three in the morning when I walked out of the station. I wiped my exhausted face and found the nearest hotel to crash in. When I woke up, my phone was flooded with notifications. The residents’ group chat was celebrating the news of my arrest. “Justice is served!” “I heard she was taken in on suspicion of trafficking. Human traffickers deserve to die!” “They should investigate her for sex work while they’re at it. I heard 1207 paid for her apartment in cash. A woman that young… how could she afford over two million dollars unless she’s a mistress to someone?” Brenda and Doris were also in the chat. “Slept like a baby last night, a rare treat. My little grandson was so happy.” “Brenda, dear, wicked people always get what’s coming to them. My heart aches for what you’ve been through.” When I returned to my building, the elevator doors opened to the sight of my front door splattered with red paint. Piles of stinking garbage lay on the floor, swarming with flies. My next-door neighbor peeked his head out, a look of disappointment on his face. “Oh, you’re out already? Well, hurry up and clean this mess. The whole hallway stinks.” Another neighbor on my floor slammed their door with a resounding crash. “So annoying. Living on the same floor as someone like her is the worst luck.” From start to finish, not a single person was willing to hear my side of the story. I dug my nails into my palm and ordered a cleaning service online. Jenna, one of the property managers, sent me a message. “Grace, people are saying your apartment is haunted by a vengeful spirit. And a lot of residents have complained to me about you, calling you a plague on the community and wishing you were dead.” “I’m worried someone might do something extreme. Have you considered selling or renting out the apartment?” Reading that, a fire ignited within me. I had just bought this place. I hadn’t done anything wrong. Why should I be the one to leave? Whether it was a vengeful spirit or a person playing games, I was going to find out. I collected myself and replied to Jenna. “To prove my innocence, I want you to stay at my apartment for the next three nights. Let’s see if they still hear a child crying then.” “In return, I’ll prepay my HOA fees for the next two years.” “On one condition: you don’t tell a soul about this.” Jenna replied quickly. “You have a deal.” That night, Jenna slipped into my apartment unnoticed. “Don’t worry, Grace. No one saw me.” For three consecutive nights, the building was as peaceful as a still lake. Brenda even praised me in the group chat. “The young lady has finally seen the error of her ways. It’s been so quiet lately.” “As for the slap, I’ll let it go. Young people can be impulsive. I understand.” When Jenna left in the mornings, she would look at me cautiously. “Grace, do you think… it could actually be haunted? Like, it only acts up when you’re alone.” “Maybe you should really think about moving.” I said nothing, but the fire inside me burned hotter. The next day, everything changed. Brenda was carried to my front door on a stretcher.

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1 Ian fastened my seatbelt for me, a gesture so familiar, so natural, it felt like muscle memory. He’d just wrapped up a major merger negotiation, a weariness still etched around his eyes, yet he’d remembered to pick me up from work, even though I was working late. “Evie,” he said, his voice soft, handing me a warm paper bag. “Your favorite roasted chestnuts. Just bought them.” Warmth spread from my fingertips to my heart. I peeled one open, thinking this was just another ordinary moment of happiness. Then, he spoke, his tone unnervingly calm. “Oh, right. That day last week, your birthday. I told you I had a last-minute business dinner, but I actually took the new intern to the hospital.” I turned to look at him. A hint of weariness, almost helplessness, crossed his face. “She… she accidentally got pregnant with my child. She’s so young, she was terrified. I figured you, being the most understanding, would get it, right? When a man’s out and about, these things happen.” … I started to tremble. He reached over, casually adjusting the car’s AC up a degree. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” He paused at a red light, turning to look at me. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. “Evie,” his voice remained oddly flat. “Don’t be like this. The girl is young, just out of college. She’s all alone here, and she was crying her eyes out that day. What was I supposed to do, just ignore her?” The light turned green. He pressed the accelerator. “Just think of it as… me doing a good deed.” I whipped my head around to stare at him. A good deed. “Is that the point? The point isn’t that you cheated and you’re only telling me now?” “Why would I tell you?” He shot me a strange look. “To upset you? What could you change even if you knew? It’s already happened.” He said it with such an air of righteous indignation, as if I were the one being unreasonable. He parked the car, but didn’t immediately unbuckle his seatbelt. Instead, he turned to face me. “Evie,” he said, his gaze steady. “When a man’s out and about, these things happen. I’m practically the last one among my friends to have an affair. I know what I’m doing. Flings are just flings; I always come home. Don’t worry, you’re different from the other women.” He reached out, as if to ruffle my hair, just like he used to. I flinched away. His hand froze in mid-air, and his face visibly darkened. He withdrew his hand, letting out a small, mirthless laugh. “Alright, take your time. Anyway, I’ve broken it off completely with that girl. If you can’t handle this, then in the future, I’ll try my best to keep you from knowing.” He finished, grabbed the bag of chestnuts, unbuckled his seatbelt, and got out of the car. The chestnut in my hand had been crushed, sticking to my palm in a messy pulp. I suddenly remembered that winter in my junior year. I had a terrible cold and a fever. My roommate called him, and he was in class. Half an hour later, he appeared downstairs at my dorm, covered in snow. I bundled up in my down jacket and went down. His hair and shoulders were white with snow, his nose bright red from the cold. “Roasted chestnuts,” he sniffled, smiling. “My Evie eats something sweet, and her sickness will go away faster.” His hands were like ice blocks, but he peeled the chestnuts for me first. I ate and cried simultaneously. He asked why I was crying, promising that one day, when we were rich, he’d buy them for me every single day. Later, we did get rich. He no longer had to brave a snowstorm to cross half the city. “Still not coming up? The chestnuts will get cold and won’t taste good.” My phone buzzed. He had showered and was now in his pajamas, watching financial news on the sofa. The bag of chestnuts sat on the coffee table, open, completely cold. “Wash your hands and come eat.” He didn’t look up. His suit jacket was carelessly tossed over the console in the entryway. A tube of lipstick peeked out of the pocket. Last month, when he’d gone to a nearby town for a project, he’d brought me back specialty pastries. Ian’s voice drifted from the living room. “Evie, what are you doing?” I looked at him. When had he become so rotten? “Alright,” he said, patting my shoulder. “Don’t overthink it. I’ve handled everything cleanly. Go wash your hands; the chestnuts really are cold now.” He turned and walked back to the living room, resuming his news program. A week ago, while he was at the hospital with another woman, I was at home, waiting for him to return so we could eat the birthday cake I’d made. The cake eventually went stale. He’d told me he was in a bad mood because the project hadn’t gone through, and I’d comforted him, saying it was alright. 2 I crouched in the entryway, trying to throw up, but nothing came. Just dry retching, one after another. Ian finally turned off the TV. He walked over and stood in front of me, wearing the matching slippers I’d bought us last year. “Are you being dramatic?” he asked. I looked up, my vision blurred, unable to make out his face. “When did it start?” I asked. “What?” “You and her,” I choked out, my voice raw and desperate, like any woman discovering her partner’s infidelity. “When did you two get together?” He frowned slightly. “Does it matter?” “Yes, it matters.” I used the cabinet to pull myself up, my legs weak. “Tell me, Ian. Just tell me when.” He was silent for a few seconds, then said, “This spring, I guess. The company hired interns, and she was assigned to my department.” Over half a year. “How many?” I asked again. His face darkened. “Evie, what are you trying to say?” “I’m asking you how many others there have been!” I suddenly screamed, my voice echoing in the empty living room. “How many more? Who else? Tell me everything, right now!” He looked at me as if I were insane, then he let out a laugh, full of weary resignation. “Do you have to be like this? I told you, it’s all been handled. She’s been sent away, I gave her money. What more do you want? Do you expect me to spend my entire life only with you?” I stared at him, dumbfounded. “Don’t all men do this?” he continued, his tone suggesting that infidelity was common knowledge everyone should accept. “Business dinners, playing along, it’s all normal. You’re going to be my wife; can’t you be more understanding? Look at Mrs. Kensington, her husband has three mistresses, and she still goes shopping and plays cards like nothing’s wrong.” My ears buzzed. Mrs. Kensington, always smiling at parties, always praising how wonderful her husband was to her. “I’m not like her. We shouldn’t be like that,” I said. “How are we different?” Ian took a step closer, looking down at me. “Evie, I’ve been with you for seven years. Seven years. Have I ever neglected you? The house is in your name, you drive the car, you can spend money however you want. I’ve just had a few affairs; why are you making such a big deal out of it?” He reached out to touch my face. I recoiled, and his hand stopped mid-air. “Fine,” he retracted his hand, nodding. “You think about it.” He turned and went into the bedroom. I stood in the living room, staring at that closed door, suddenly remembering so many years ago. We had just graduated, broke, renting a tiny, rundown studio apartment. The day we moved in, he mysteriously pulled a potted plant from behind his back. “A lemon tree,” he’d said. “When it bears fruit, we’ll have a real home.” He’d knelt on the floor, using a key to engrave our initials into the bottom of the pot. He’d said, “Evie, you’ll be the boss of our home.” That lemon tree eventually did bear fruit. He’d said when it produced a few more, he’d pick them for me to make honey water. Later, we bought this house, and the tree came with us. I walked to the balcony. The lemon tree’s leaves were mostly yellow, some already withered, curling at the edges and falling off. When had it started to wither? I noticed his work tablet on the coffee table. He usually never brought it home. On a sudden impulse, I picked it up and opened it. The screen saver was a girl’s sleeping face. Young, fair-skinned, long eyelashes, hair fanned out on a pillow—it was our bedroom pillow. I checked the timestamp: three months ago, when I was on a business trip to Seattle. The night before I left, he’d held me, saying he’d miss me, asking me to come back soon. The day I left, he drove me to the airport, kissed me at security, and said, “Call me when you land.” When I arrived in Seattle, I called to check in, but he didn’t answer. Later, he texted that he was in a meeting. It turned out that night, he was in our bed, holding another girl. 3 The bedroom door suddenly opened. Ian walked out and saw the tablet in my hand. His face instantly changed. “How many is this one?” I asked. He didn’t speak, heading to the kitchen for water. I followed him. “Ian, say something!” He finished his water, then turned to face me. “Evie, do you have to do this?” “Do what?” My voice trembled. “I’m asking you a question! Are you deaf?” After a long silence, he sighed. “Evie, the young girl was a bit naive. I told you I’d try my best to keep things from you in the future.” I looked at him, at this man I’d loved for seven years, and suddenly he felt like a complete stranger. “You said you’d only ever love me,” I said. “You said when the lemon tree bore fruit, we’d get married. You said…” “Evie, I’m tired,” he cut me off. “If you want to break up, fine. If you want to continue, fine. I don’t care. But remember this: the world is just like this, not as clean as you imagine. Even if you were with someone else, it would be the same.” He let go of me and pulled a keyring from his pocket. “See?” He dangled the keys. “I still keep the most important things. Evie, you’re still different to me.” I stared at that key. The year we graduated, when he couldn’t find a job, he’d gotten drunk, held me, and cried. “Evie, I only have you,” he’d wept like a child. “What would I do without you?” That old brass key belonged to the tiny, run-down studio apartment he’d saved up for ages to rent. When he gave me the key, he’d said, “This will be our foundation.” Different? Different how? Was I just more qualified than the other women to be his respectable cover? I snatched the key and hurled it at him. “Ian, you’re disgusting!” “Are you done with your tantrum?” He took a step forward, glaring down at me. “What do you think you even have left now? You quit your job, you lost your friends, you’ve spent every day revolving around me! Without me, could you even survive?” He pressed me back, my spine hitting the cold entryway wall. “How I live is none of your concern!” “If I don’t care for you, who will?” He raised a hand and gripped my chin, his fingers digging in. “Evie, settle down. Mrs. Chen will still be your title. Keep this up, and you’ll lose everything!” I struggled violently, pushing him away. “I don’t want it!” He probably hadn’t expected me to use such force. He stumbled, instinctively pushing me back. I was standing at the edge of the entryway steps; my foot missed, and I toppled backward. I saw Ian’s horrified face, his hand reaching out but failing to grasp me. Seconds later, excruciating pain exploded in my lower abdomen, as if a hand was violently twisting inside me. I curled into a ball, cold sweat instantly soaking my clothes. Ian rushed over. “Evie?!” “It hurts…” Blood. Warm, thick blood streamed down my legs, staining the pale floor. “I… I’ll call an ambulance!” He fumbled for his phone, fumbling several times before unlocking it. The doctor removed her mask. “Approximately eight weeks pregnant, miscarried. Is the family here?” “How…” Ian stood by the bed, his lips moving. “How did she get pregnant now?” The doctor gave him a look, but said nothing. Ian turned to me, his expression complex, a fleeting moment of panic quickly replaced by irritation. “Evie, I’m upset about the baby too, but it’s done. What more do you want from me?” I lay on the hospital bed, my abdomen still throbbing faintly, my heart utterly numb.

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Emerging from the asylum, I found myself driving for hire. Never in a million years did I imagine tonight’s passengers would be my sister, Lydia, and my ex-wife, Cici. The car door opened, and a familiar perfume, mingled with the sharp scent of alcohol, wafted in. From the backseat, they chatted about corporate mergers and Swiss ski trips, their voices light and carefree. My throat felt dry. I couldn’t help but cough. “Still taking fares when you’re sick?” Lydia’s voice instantly cut through the air, laced with disdain. “There’s a pregnant woman in the car. Can you really afford to spread your illness?” I didn’t respond. Then, Cici suddenly looked up, her gaze meeting mine in the rearview mirror. Her voice was as gentle and composed as ever. “Aiden Caldwell, long time no see.” A suffocating silence descended on the car. “Aiden Caldwell?!” Lydia lurched forward. “You’re actually alive?!” “Cici, don’t you remember he had that… disease? Get out, quickly!” The car conveniently pulled to a stop in front of a sprawling luxury mansion. They practically fled, disappearing into the night. I sat in the car, my hand slowly pressing against my chest. Turns out, it didn’t ache here anymore. Time truly does smooth over everything. 1 I watched my sister, Lydia, rush away, pulling Cici along. “Cici, have you lost your mind? He had that awful disease! Come on, let’s just pretend we saw nothing tonight…” I sat in the driver’s seat, my hands trembling slightly. I fumbled for my cigarette pack, pulled one out, and lit it. Once, I’d smoked cigars worth thousands without a second thought. Now… The moment the cigarette ignited, I choked, bending over in a coughing fit. The car window was gently tapped. Cici had somehow returned, standing beside the car. She leaned in slightly, her voice hushed. “Aiden, it’s Julian’s birthday today. Mom and Dad are there. Do you… want to come in and see them?” I snuffed out the cigarette, my voice hoarse. “No need. Aren’t things clearer with one less person around?” “Don’t say that.” She gently shook her head. “You are, after all, a true Caldwell.” Before her words faded, the villa door swung open. A man strode out. “Cici! Who are you talking to?” “Didn’t I tell you not to bother with those shady characters from outside?” I didn’t listen any further. I slammed my foot on the accelerator and sped off. The cold wind swept through the car, making me shiver. The car finally stopped in front of a small pastry shop. The apprentice, Liam, pushed aside the curtain and stepped out, a smile on his face. “Boss, you’re back.” My second job began. Kneading dough, rolling wrappers, filling pastries, steaming them. After finishing all the work, I’d lie down for barely three or four hours before having to get up and drive again. These past years, I’d forgotten how to sleep. At three in the morning, the steam from the pastry shop finally dissipated. Liam squatted by the door, scrolling on his phone, and suddenly let out a “Tsk.” “Wow! Boss, look! The Caldwells are throwing a huge yacht party for their adopted son’s birthday! What a spectacle… And his wife is stunning.” The camera panned across the deck. Julian Caldwell was holding Cici by the waist, whispering something into her ear. She smiled beautifully, as beautiful as she had been on our wedding day. My father stood nearby, lovingly patting Julian’s shoulder. “Heard the Caldwell’s second son passed away eight years ago,” Liam mumbled casually. “Otherwise, none of this would be inherited by the adopted son, would it? It’s fate, I guess…” He sighed, envy coloring his face. “Forget houses, how many years would we have to sell pastries just to buy one of their car tires?” I looked at him and shook my head. That life, I knew it too well. But eight years ago, I was brutally kicked from those clouds straight into hell. The hands that pushed me down—one pair belonged to my new bride, the other, to my own family. 2 I lit a cigarette, taking a deep drag. Liam, wiping down tables, looked up at me. “Boss, your cough is getting worse. You should smoke less.” I rasped, “Can’t quit.” He sighed, turning back to his tidying, sweeping with a feather duster. “Boss, New Year’s is coming. I’m heading back to my hometown in a couple of days, so I’ll clean up the shop first.” As the duster reached under the bed, it suddenly hit something hard. He pulled out a dust-covered box. Opening it, he found a ring inside. Even the dust couldn’t dim its shine. “Boss, this looks really expensive,” Liam said, carefully holding it. “You should keep it safe.” He handed me the box. The moment my fingertips brushed the edge, I flinched back as if burned. Eight years ago, I had personally placed this ring on Cici’s finger. Memories flooded back. Once, she was just a little girl who had crawled out of earthquake ruins. My father and I were surveying the village and found her amidst the rubble. Seeing her plight, I sponsored her education. She wrote to me every month, her feelings in those letters growing clearer with each passing year. Later, I bought her a phone. She confessed her feelings over the phone, and I refused. She didn’t pester me, but instead studied harder, getting into a prestigious university abroad. When she returned, she was parachuted in as the youngest department manager in the company. Standing before me again, she said, “Aiden Caldwell, do I deserve you now?” This time, I nodded. News of my impending marriage reached home, and my father smashed his favorite teapot, my mother cried all night. I knelt in the family chapel for three days, eventually swaying them. On our wedding day, I announced her name to the world. The wedding dress was custom-made by a designer I hired for her, and I personally placed the ring on her finger. After the wedding, I gradually let her take over company affairs, transferring my shares, little by little, into her name. But at some point, fierce arguments began to erupt between her and my adopted brother, Julian Caldwell. They often bickered incessantly over projects. Cici once directly threw a cup of coffee in Julian’s face, sealing their animosity. I advised Julian to be more accommodating with Cici, but he just sneered at me. “Your taste in women is truly terrible.” I thought these two would remain at odds forever. Until I saw Julian wearing the same brand of clothes as me—a brand I frequently wore. Cici, unperturbed, said, “The store had a buy-one-get-one-free offer, so I picked one up for Julian too.” I was even happy when their relationship seemed to mend. Later, when Cici was kidnapped by a competitor, the first to rush to her rescue was Julian. When I arrived, I saw him tightly embracing a tear-streaked Cici. My heart felt heavy, but I said nothing. Cici later explained, “I was terrified then. No matter who arrived first, I would have reacted the same way.” The day after our wedding, I flew abroad for an urgent project. When I returned, I didn’t tell her, wanting to surprise her. I quietly walked to the glass conservatory I had given her. And then, I witnessed a sight I would never forget. My adopted brother, Julian Caldwell, had my new wife, Cici, pressed against the transparent glass. Their bodies were intimately entwined, the conservatory filled with an illicit spring glow. The gift box in my hand fell to the ground with a ‘thud.’ 3 I rushed forward and landed a solid punch on Julian. Cici frantically dressed, grabbing my arm. “Aiden, let me explain!” “Explain?” I shook off her hand. “Explain how you two ended up together? Do you think I’m blind?” I looked at Julian, then at Cici. In my extreme fury, a ridiculous glimmer of hope still remained—perhaps she was just momentarily confused. I extended my hand to Cici. “Come here. I’ll give you one last chance.” The moment she moved, Julian yanked her back behind him. My brother, who had always been so gentle with me, now had eyes filled with disgust. He looked at me and said clearly, “Aiden, I’m sorry. But Cici and I are truly in love.” “Just let her go.” I swung a punch at his face, and blood immediately gushed out. Cici shrieked, then raised her hand and slapped me across the face. After hitting me, even she seemed stunned. I looked at the fresh hickeys on her neck and suddenly felt a chill spread through my body. Julian wiped the blood, a cold smirk on his face. “Aiden Caldwell, what else can you do besides resort to violence? Face reality.” He paused, then each word landed like a blow. “And, she’s already carrying my child.” The last thread in my mind snapped. Julian and I lunged at each other. Cici rushed in to intervene, but I accidentally pushed her away with force. She fell heavily to the ground, and a pool of blood quickly spread beneath her. She had miscarried. In the hospital, my mother continuously wiped away tears. My father, his face grim, finally spoke. “Aiden, you were too impulsive. No matter how angry you are, you shouldn’t lay hands on a pregnant woman.” I looked at them, finding it all absurd. “She was carrying Julian’s child. A bastard with no blood ties to the Caldwell family, and you still want it?” “Silence!” My father roared, his cane striking my calf with brutal force. My leg buckled, and I crashed to my knees. My father’s chest heaved as he pointed his cane at me. “You animal, listen carefully!” “Julian’s father was a brother I fought alongside on the battlefield, a man who took a bullet for me! Before he died, he entrusted me with only one thing: to care for his only son!” He looked down at me. “In your mother’s and my heart, Julian is a Caldwell! If you dare touch him again, I won’t need anyone else; I’ll break your legs myself!” I knelt there, the pain in my leg nothing compared to the cold spreading through my heart. Turns out, twenty years of father-son affection couldn’t outweigh a single dying wish. My father sternly scolded, “Still talking back! If you hadn’t been so neglectful of Cici, how would she have ended up with Julian? You’ve been headstrong and willful since childhood, nothing like your brother, who is steady and sensible! Apologize to your brother!” Lydia chimed in. “Aiden, since Julian and Cici are truly in love, why don’t you just let them be?” “Dad!” my voice trembled. “His feelings are important, but can your biological son’s dignity be trampled so casually?!” I looked up, catching Julian and Cici exchanging glances. That fleeting moment of intimacy shattered my last shred of illusion. I abruptly stood up and rushed to the hospital bed, grabbing Cici’s wrist and dragging her off. “Let’s go! Let’s get out of here. I won’t hold anything against you!” Cici shrieked, falling to the floor. She grabbed the vase from the bedside table and violently smashed it over my head. “Let go of me!” The porcelain shattered on my scalp, blood mixed with cold water streaming down my face. My father’s bodyguards instantly rushed in, pinning my arms behind my back and forcing me to the ground. “Mad! He’s truly mad!” my father roared. “Send him to psychiatry! Lock him up and let him clear his head!” As I was pressed to the ground, the last thing I saw was Julian carefully shielding Cici in his embrace. I was sent to a mental asylum. Under the effects of sedatives, time became a blur. During my daily one-hour TV time, I always saw news of Julian and Cici. They had gone to the Maldives with my sister, their smiles blinding. I knew that if I kept resisting, I’d never get out. I started to be compliant, taking my medication diligently, accepting “treatment” on schedule. On the day of my discharge, Julian personally drove to pick me up. Cici sat in the passenger seat, and Lydia accompanied me in the back. The car drove for a long time before Lydia suddenly spoke. “Aiden, when I visited you last time, you’d already signed the divorce papers. This morning, Cici and Julian officially registered their marriage.” She shook her phone, the screen displaying their wedding photo. I felt a dizzy spell; I had no recollection of ever signing anything. “Stop the car!” “Aiden!” Lydia frowned in annoyance. “Can you please stop making a scene? Look at Julian, always so composed. No wonder Mom and Dad decided to hand the entire company over to him.” I suddenly grabbed the back of the front seat. “What about my shares?” Cici turned around, her voice still gentle. “Aiden, you were deemed mentally incapacitated during your illness. Mom and Dad thought it was for your own good to temporarily entrust your shares to Julian.” “That was my life’s work!” I stared at the back of Julian’s head. He scoffed. “Aiden, you don’t have the capability. Isn’t it better to just be a rich idler?” I looked at the people in the car. My wife, my “brother,” my sister. “Stop the car,” my voice was very soft. “Otherwise…” I suddenly leaned forward, grabbing a handful of Julian’s hair and yanking hard!

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I ground away at the company for fifteen years. I personally trained sixty-two top-performing sales champions. Today, the company announced layoffs, and the list had only one name on it: mine. While I was zoning out in a coffee shop, the Chairman sat down across from me with a cheerful smile. “How are the presentation materials coming along for next week’s Ace Sales Training?” I closed my laptop and looked at him calmly. “Mr. Chairman, I was just laid off.” The smile on his face froze instantly… 01 The frozen smile was like a poorly drawn frame of animation forcibly paused. Richard Sterling, the founder of Vanguard Group, the man I had called Mr. Chairman for fifteen years, now had muscles twitching uncontrollably on his face. The latte he had just brought over still exuded a warm aroma, but the fingers gripping the cup were trembling slightly. “What?” He squeezed the word out through clenched teeth, his voice changing pitch from shock. “What did you say? Who laid you off? This is absurd!” He stood up abruptly, a movement so large it knocked over his chair, creating a harsh scraping sound that drew sideways glances from everyone in the coffee shop. But he didn’t care at all. He pulled out his phone, his fingers jabbing furiously at the screen, his anger practically erupting from it. “Which department did this? HR? Or that guy named Miller in Sales?” The call connected. He roared into the receiver, saliva flying. “Arthur Miller! Have you lost your damn mind? Who gave you the authority to fire Chloe? Do you know she has a company-wide Ace Training next week? How is the company supposed to function without her? Is your brain broken?” I sat quietly, even having the leisure to pick up that latte and take a small sip. The coffee was fragrant, and also very bitter. I looked at Mr. Sterling’s livid face, at his chest heaving violently with anger, but inside, I felt dead silence. Just three hours ago, my life had been brutally split in two. … “Director Davis, here is your termination notice.” The newly appointed, parachuted-in Vice President, Arthur Miller, pushed a cold document in front of me. Behind him stood a young woman with exquisite makeup, her eyes filled with undisguised contempt and smugness. She was Arthur’s niece, Mia, a recent college graduate. “The company needs to optimize its organizational structure and inject fresh blood.” Arthur’s corporate speak was airtight. “Director Davis, thank you for your fifteen years of hard work. But times are changing, and your methods might not be quite suited for today’s fast-paced market.” Mia stepped forward, her slender fingers tracing over the rows of trophies on my desk, finally picking up the heaviest one: the “Group Fifteen-Year Outstanding Contribution Award.” She tossed it in her hand, like weighing a worthless toy. “Senior, looking at these things now, they are indeed a bit outdated.” She smiled charmingly, but her words were incredibly venomous. “Nowadays, it’s all about internet thinking and monetizing traffic. We young people won’t learn your grunt work of running door-to-door to clients.” Standing in my office were several team leaders I had personally promoted. They had once stood outside my office door for two hours just to get a training spot. They had once wept tears of joy in front of me for signing a huge deal. Right now, they all had their heads down, their eyes dodging, like a flock of tamed quails, even breathing carefully. Arthur raised his wrist to check his watch, his tone carrying impatience. “Director Davis, I’ll give you one hour to pack your personal belongings. All data on the company computer is company property. I will have the tech department change the passwords immediately.” What he was talking about was the complete training system I had spent fifteen years building, hailed as Vanguard Group’s sales bible: the “Thunderbolt Protocol.” That was my child, the sum total of my entire career’s effort. Now, they wanted to kick me out and steal my child. I didn’t argue, I didn’t roar, I didn’t even have an expression. I just calmly stood up and packed a water cup and a potted plant from my desk. The moment I walked out of the office, I heard Mia impatiently issuing orders to the others. “Quick, clean up this office thoroughly. I don’t like this old, decaying smell!” Behind me, the hasty agreements of my former subordinates echoed. I walked out of the Vanguard Group building step by step. The sunlight was blinding. I looked back at this building where I had struggled for fifteen years; it gleamed with cold light in the sun. On that dead wasteland in my heart, there wasn’t even a breeze. … On the other end of the phone, Arthur’s voice came through the receiver, not loud, but carrying an emboldened toughness. I couldn’t hear what he said clearly, but I saw the anger on Mr. Sterling’s face extinguish instantly, as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over his head. His momentum weakened at a visible rate. The roaring turned into suppressed questioning, and finally into powerless compromise. “…I understand.” Mr. Sterling hung up the phone, his face looking as ugly as if he had swallowed a fly. He sat down dejectedly, avoiding my gaze, and promised dryly: “Chloe, you… trust me, this must be a misunderstanding. Don’t worry, I… I’ll go communicate with the shareholders again. Tomorrow, you come to work as normal.” I looked at him, this man who had once been as reliable as a mountain in my heart. His eyes were wandering, his promises hollow. I asked calmly, “Mr. Sterling, do you mean I should ignore the termination contract already issued by HR, ignore the face-to-face dismissal order from VP Miller, and just walk through the company doors openly tomorrow?” My voice was soft, but like a needle, it precisely pierced his hypocritical protective shell. “When that happens, will I be stopped at the door by security, or treated as a trespasser and handed over to the police?” He opened his mouth but couldn’t say a single word. I closed the laptop in front of me and stood up. “Thank you for the coffee, Mr. Sterling.” I looked at his instantly aged face, and the last bit of attachment to this company in my heart vanished like smoke. “Goodbye.” I turned and left, without looking back. I could feel his complex gaze—full of regret, powerlessness, and mixed with relief—sticking to my back. Goodbye, Vanguard. Goodbye, my fifteen years of youth. 02 The next day, I didn’t receive a call from Mr. Sterling. What I received was an icy, official termination email from the HR department. In the attachment was the severance package. Standard severance pay based on years of service plus one month. Not a penny more, not a penny less, strictly executing the minimum standard of labor laws. They couldn’t even be bothered to offer a final bit of dignity. I looked at that glaring number and suddenly smiled. Fifteen years of dedication, the cultivation of sixty-two top sales reps, countless days and nights of blood, sweat, and tears, ultimately amounted to just this little bit of money. Truly, clean and efficient. I picked up my phone and sent Mr. Sterling one last message. “Mr. Sterling, thank you for your cultivation over the past fifteen years.” No questioning, no resentment, just a polite farewell. Like declaring the absolute death of a relationship. The phone screen lit up and dimmed, darkened and lit up. In the end, he still didn’t reply. I tapped open the WeChat group I had personally created, the once bustling “Vanguard Top Sales” group. Inside the group, dead silence. As if everyone had agreed to play deaf and dumb regarding my departure. I drafted a message and sent it. “I have left the company. Take care, everyone.” On the screen, my solitary sentence was like a pebble sinking into the deep sea, failing to stir up a single ripple. After a long time, a few people cautiously sent me private messages. The content was largely the same, nothing more than “Chloe, this is so sudden” or “Chloe, take care.” One of them was a regional director I had once mentored hand-in-hand, now holding a high position in the company. He sent a sentence: “Chloe, I’m sorry.” Then, I found out he had deleted me. I clicked into his profile. His latest post was sharing a company press release about VP Miller’s far-sighted leadership reforming and innovating the sales department. My heart felt like it was gripped by an invisible hand—not painful, just a bit numb. What made me feel even more absurd was another top sales rep. Let’s call him Rep B. Three years ago, because of a gambling addiction, he owed a massive gambling debt and was cornered by debt collectors at the company entrance. It was I who quietly paid off that money for him and pulled him back from the brink of being fired. He knelt in front of me then, crying and saying I would be his real sister from now on. Right now, he sent me a WeChat message. “Chloe, VP Miller is young and promising, and he has the backing of major shareholders; his future is limitless. Don’t blame us folks lower down, we all have to eat.” Before I could reply, I saw his profile update. An intimate photo of him with Arthur Miller. In the photo, he smiled obsequiously and attentively. The caption read: “Following VP Miller’s lead closely, creating brilliance once again!” That smiling face, right now in my eyes, was incredibly ugly. I silently scrolled through my phone contacts. Sixty-two sales champions I had personally cultivated. At this moment, not a single one dared to speak up for me in public. It turns out human nature could be this cold and thin. I felt no anger, nor sorrow. I just took out a pen and paper, and stroke by stroke, clearly wrote down the names of that regional director who deleted me and that Rep B who was “creating brilliance once again” in his post. I don’t have many virtues, but I have a particularly good memory. Especially for holding grudges. Right then, my phone rang abruptly. The name on the caller ID cracked open a tiny fissure in my frozen heart. Leo. The first sales champion I ever mentored. Also the only one who, after leaving Vanguard, successfully started his own business and kept in touch with me. I answered the phone. “Chloe, where are you?” Leo’s voice was crisp and clean as always, carrying irrepressible anger. “I just heard what those bastards did. How are you holding up? Don’t trust Richard Sterling, that old fox. He only acts like a good guy when there’s no conflict of interest. And ignore those spineless cowards, a bunch of ungrateful wretches who bite the hand that feeds them!” This call was the first human words, the first warmth I heard after being laid off. I looked at the gray sky outside the window, and my perpetually tense nerves finally loosened. I sniffled, my voice remaining calm. “No need to come over, I’m fine.” “I just need some time to liquidate my assets.” Leo on the other end of the line paused, then understood something. “Chloe, you…” “Wait for my news.” I hung up, my gaze becoming sharp again. Yes, assets. It’s time to let them know what my, Chloe Davis’s, true assets actually are. 03 Two days later, Leo appeared at my apartment, looking travel-worn. Looking at the living room, as tidy as ever, and my calm face, his suspended heart dropped halfway. “Chloe, are you really okay?” He asked, still worried. I smiled, didn’t answer, but turned to the safe in the study and took out a thick manila envelope. I laid the contents out on the coffee table piece by piece. A stack of yellowed, handwritten manuscripts. A portable hard drive containing a massive amount of original files. And a thin, yet overwhelmingly weighty, supplementary agreement. “What’s this?” Leo picked up the agreement, the expression on his face going from confused, to shocked, to ecstatic. “Chloe! You…” He was so excited he was incoherent. This agreement was something I specifically added ten years ago when renewing my long-term contract with Vanguard Group. At that time, my “Thunderbolt Protocol” sales training system was just taking shape. It had achieved huge success within the group and attracted the covetous eyes of countless peers. To keep me, Mr. Sterling agreed to almost every request I made. This request I made didn’t seem unreasonable at the time. The agreement explicitly stated: Within the “Thunderbolt Protocol” training system, all course models, core methodologies, case study libraries, and related text, charts, audio, and video materials independently originated by me, Chloe Davis, have their intellectual property rights belonging to me personally. Vanguard Group only had the right to free use during my tenure. At the end of the agreement was Richard Sterling’s flamboyant signature and the bright red corporate seal of the group. This was the final talisman I kept for myself back then, to prevent my life’s work from being shamelessly plagiarized. I never thought that one day, it would become my nuclear weapon for counterattack. “Chloe, this is a nuclear weapon!” Leo’s voice was trembling. “We’ll send a lawyer’s letter right now! Sue them! Make them pay until they’re bankrupt!” I shook my head, picked up my teacup, and blew on the floating tea leaves. “No rush.” My tone was as calm as discussing the weather. “A nuclear weapon cannot be used lightly. It must be used at the most critical moment to inflict maximum damage.” Leo looked at me, his eyes full of awe. “Then… what do we do now?” I opened my laptop, logged into a long-unused old account, and entered Vanguard Group’s internal forum. As soon as it opened, the screen was filled with promotions for next week’s Ace Sales Training. Bright red headlines, exhausting all capabilities of flattery. Genius Rookie Mia Injects New Vitality into the Classic “Thunderbolt Protocol”! Epoch-Making Upgrade! “Thunderbolt Protocol 2.0” About to Detonate the Whole Group! The accompanying picture was a heavily photoshopped image of Mia in an expensive business suit, a confident smile on her face. The curve of my lips grew colder and colder. “Upgraded version? Very well.” I pointed at the screen and said to Leo, “Isn’t Mia supposed to give the Ace Training lecture next week?” “Let her.” “Every word she says, every PowerPoint slide she uses, will become courtroom evidence. It will make the Arthur Miller behind her, and the entire Vanguard Group, lose face completely in front of the whole company.” Leo suddenly understood, excitedly slapping his thigh. “Chloe, this move of yours is too ruthless! A public execution!” I smiled, but there was no amusement in my eyes. “I just want to see how a thief, under the spotlight, can righteously claim stolen goods as her own.” “I want to make Richard Sterling, and all the executives at Vanguard, see clearly exactly what they drove away, and what kind of trash they are holding in the palms of their hands.” I closed the laptop and looked out the window. The moment before a storm is always exceptionally quiet. And I am the one summoning the storm. 04 On the day of the Ace Sales Training, Vanguard Group’s main auditorium was packed. To build momentum for Mia, Arthur Miller specifically ordered an internal live stream across the entire group. From headquarters to major regional offices, from middle management to frontline sales, thousands of people were watching online. I sat leisurely on my couch at home, the massive screen in front of me showing the live feed. Leo was beside me, his palms sweating from nervousness. “Chloe, the cease-and-desist letters are ready to go at any moment.” “Wait a little longer.” I picked up a cup of pour-over coffee, completely composed. On the screen, Mia, wearing an expensive white Chanel suit, stood under the spotlight, trying hard to strike the pose of a capable elite. Unfortunately, her pitiful lack of experience and empty eyes completely failed to support the outfit, making her look ridiculous instead. The training began. She opened the PPT and started reading from the script. That PPT was the final version I had spent three all-nighters making last month. Every word, every image, every case study was steeped in my blood and sweat. Mia clearly hadn’t grasped the content; she was just stumbling through the script. When it came to several key interactive segments, she couldn’t handle the questions thrown by the veteran salespeople below at all. She either prevaricated or skipped them entirely, making the scene highly awkward. In the live stream chat, veiled sarcasm began to appear. “This… is not even as good as me explaining it.” “Feels like listening to a recording.” “VP Miller looks green in the front row.” I saw it. Arthur Miller, sitting in the front row, did indeed look increasingly terrible. He frequently winked at Mia on stage, his lips pressed tightly together, stopping just short of going up there himself. Receiving her uncle’s warning, fine beads of sweat appeared on Mia’s forehead, and her voice began to tremble. To salvage the situation, she took a deep breath and, pretending to be calm, pressed the button for the next slide. “Next, I will explain in detail the core, original model of the ‘Thunderbolt Protocol’—The Three Gates of Client Psychology!” Now. I picked up my phone and sent one word to the head of Leo’s legal team. “Send.” In an instant, it was as if an invisible, massive net descended from the sky, enveloping the entire Vanguard Group. All board members, including Richard Sterling. All executives at the Vice President level and above, including Arthur Miller. The heads of all major regions, and all employees of the group’s legal department. Their phones and computers, at the exact same moment, received an email from a top-tier national law firm. The subject line was concise, yet shocking. [Warning of Infringement Regarding Vanguard Group and its Employee Mia’s Severe Violation of Ms. Chloe Davis’s “Thunderbolt Protocol” Intellectual Property Rights] The body of the email was well-organized, with irrefutable evidence. A scanned copy of the yellowed supplementary agreement with Richard Sterling’s handwritten signature. The original manuscripts and creation records with detailed timestamps that I had accumulated over more than a decade. And, a real-time live stream link. The link pointed exactly to the footage of Mia on stage, spitting everywhere as she explained “The Three Gates of Client Psychology.” The live stream chat, after three seconds of dead silence, completely exploded. “?????? What email did I just receive??” “Holy shit! I got it too! Sent by a top law firm!” “Director Davis’s IP? So this whole set of things belongs to Director Davis herself?” “What Mia is presenting is Director Davis’s material? This is… theft?” “VP Miller, come out and explain! What the hell is going on!” “My god, stealing things on a public live stream, this is too wild!” On stage, Mia had absolutely no idea what had happened. She watched the suddenly agitated crowd below, saw them all looking down at their phones, and then looking at her with expressions as if they’d seen a ghost. The hand holding the microphone began to tremble uncontrollably. Her mind went completely blank. She looked pleadingly at Arthur Miller in the audience. Arthur Miller didn’t look at her. He stared fixedly at his phone screen. That face could no longer be described as ugly; it was black as the bottom of a pot, twisted and fierce. He had the heart to kill someone. … At the same time, in the Chairman’s office. Richard Sterling stood up from his executive chair with a whoosh, the huge movement knocking over a precious Yixing clay teacup on his desk. Scalding tea spilled all over his hand, but he felt nothing. He stared dead at the scanned copy of the agreement in the email, looking at the name he had signed when he was high-spirited and vigorous back then. He finally understood completely what I meant by “liquidating assets” that day in the coffee shop. It wasn’t a remark made in anger. It was a declaration of war, drafted long ago. I turned off the noisy live stream. On the screen, Mia looked like she was about to cry, like a clown stripped naked and thrown into the middle of a public square. I had seen enough of this good show. I sent Leo a message. “Step one, complete.” The phone vibrated. It was Leo’s reply. “Chloe, badass!” I smiled and finished the last sip of coffee in my cup. The good show had just begun.

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My mother loves conducting “obedience tests.” I told her I couldn’t eat ginger, but she put ginger in every dish she cooked. “Who is allergic to ginger? I think you’re just a picky eater!” On my eighteenth birthday, she even bought a thousand pounds of ginger, making a full ginger feast and ginger perfume. She looked at me smugly. “Ginger cures all diseases. I’m doing this for your own good!” “Not eating ginger is just you being spoiled. I specifically minced it this time; let’s see how you pick it out!” My mother smiled happily because her test was successful. But she didn’t know I wasn’t lying to her. I am severely allergic to ginger. Once consumed or contacted in large amounts, the symptoms will gradually develop within two hours, potentially leading to death. … I looked numbly at the full ginger feast in front of me: ginger stir-fried pork, ginger braised duck, shredded ginger with shredded potatoes… Even the dessert was ginger milk curd. Moreover, except for the shredded ginger with shredded potatoes, the ginger in all the other dishes was minced. I couldn’t pick it out at all. I suddenly remembered that before my birthday, my mother had asked me gently what I wanted for my 18th birthday. I thought this was a rare moment of warmth after my parents’ divorce. I repeatedly emphasized, “Just don’t put ginger. I’m allergic to ginger.” I didn’t expect it to be another obedience test. I looked at the meals my mother “carefully” prepared, losing all appetite. The smell of ginger filled my nasal cavity, and a feeling of nausea rushed straight to my throat. I ran to the bathroom and vomited miserably. My mother, however, rushed to the bathroom angrily, grabbed my hair fiercely, and pulled me up. “Who allowed you to vomit? Every bite of food you eat is made by me spending time and money. What right do you have to ruin this body?” She dragged me back to the living room and picked up that bowl of ginger milk curd with a strong ginger smell. “Eat it!” I desperately shook my head to refuse. “I really am allergic. Mom, I’ll listen to you on everything else, just don’t force me to eat ginger…” My mother hesitated for a moment, put me down, and went into the kitchen with the bowl. I thought my mother believed me and just breathed a sigh of relief. But I saw her come out with a small bowl—that small bowl was full of minced ginger, this time without even milk! My mother looked at me, like looking at an ignorant child. “Don’t be a picky eater. How could anyone be allergic to ginger?” “You just ate too little. Eat more and you’ll like ginger.” The spoon moved to my mouth. “Good child, take a bite. Ginger is good for the body.” I clenched my teeth dead tight. “Eat! Chloe, eat!” The spoon poked my gums to mush. I wailed in pain and swallowed a mouthful of minced ginger. Blood oozed from my mouth, but it couldn’t match half the pain in my heart. Since divorcing my dad, my mother fell in love with obedience tests. From what clothes to wear to which university to apply to, she demanded my obedience. As the tests deepened, the look in her eyes toward me grew colder day by day, not like looking at her own child, but like looking at a machine that would obey orders. I was choked by the minced ginger, tears and snot flowing. My mother, however, smiled with satisfaction. “Aren’t you able to eat it? Sure enough, you act as well as your dad.” I tried hard to suppress my emotions, but I still couldn’t hold back and shed two streams of tears. Large drops of tears wet the back of my mother’s hand. She froze for a moment, then flew into a rage, pinching my chin and roaring, “Didn’t I tell you not to cry? This body was born and raised by me. Without my permission, you can’t shed a single tear!” “As heartless as your deadbeat dad, an ungrateful wretch!” My mother looked at the minced ginger I knocked onto the floor during my struggle, her eyes full of heartache. She picked up her phone and took a few pictures with a “click click.” At this time, my phone sounded a message notification. My mother took pictures of the almost untouched dishes on the table and the ginger milk curd in the trash can, and sent them to the family group chat. “Child’s eighteenth birthday. I got up at five to make a table full of dishes for her, and she didn’t eat a single bite. Made the dessert she clamored for, and she threw it all in the trash can. Sigh!” The relatives replying below were all scolding me for being an ungrateful wretch. After sending the message, my mother turned her head and looked at me coldly. “Don’t think your wings are hard just because you’re an adult. If you dare to defy me next time, I’ll send it to your classmate group chat. You can’t escape even when you work. I’ll go to your company to make a scene and see if you can afford to lose this face!” Her voice was high-pitched and sharp; every word suffocated me. What was more suffocating than this was that my face grew hot, and my stomach started to ache sharply. My heart sank, knowing these were the symptoms of an allergy starting. While my mother was clearing the dishes, I hurriedly ran into the room to find allergy medicine. Fortunately, knowing that my mother loves conducting obedience tests, I always keep antihistamines prepared. But before I had time to take it, the bedroom door was pushed straight open. I hurriedly hid the medicine behind my back. My mother walked up to me, reached out, and touched my cheek. “Why is your face so hot?” She noticed my hands hidden behind my back and frowned. “What are you hiding? Take it out!” I explained tremblingly, “It’s allergy medicine. I told you I’m allergic to ginger, Mom.” My mother, however, snatched the allergy medicine from my hand and roared, “Do you eat it just because I allowed you to?” I scratched the new red rash on my arm, realizing the allergic symptoms had worsened again. I was running out of time. I bitterly begged my mother to give me the medicine. She instead took out a bottle of homemade ginger perfume and sprayed it wildly at me. “Ginger water removes cold. You just have a weak constitution and caught a cold.” “Still claiming a ginger allergy. I sprayed so much ginger water, and you didn’t die, did you?” Ignoring my pleas, my mother carried the sprayer and started spraying ginger perfume all over the house. “Stop pretending. I invited your classmates to celebrate your birthday. They’ll be here right away.” “Spray some perfume so you don’t pass the sickness to your classmates!” The whole house smelled of ginger. Dense red rashes broke out on my arms, thighs, and neck. I wanted to go out for some fresh air, but my mother forcefully kept me at home, euphemistically calling it, “You won’t feel uncomfortable after getting used to it.” I knew a new round of obedience testing had begun. I couldn’t stop my mother. I could only dial 911, wrap myself tightly, and hope to hold on until the ambulance arrived. Soon, the classmates arrived. Seeing Sarah and her clique, I subconsciously trembled. Aren’t these the people who bullied me? They tore my books, put dead mice in my desk, and falsely accused me of cheating on an exam out of jealousy. When the former mother found out, she didn’t say a word, took a kitchen knife to the school, and forced them to apologize to me. But now, how could my mother invite them to attend my birthday party? Sarah stepped forward and smilingly took my hand. “Happy birthday, Chloe.” Then she leaned close to my ear and whispered, “Bitch, let’s see how I deal with you.” “Ah!” Before I could react, Sarah fell to the ground. With tears in her eyes, she aggrievedly accused, “Chloe, I came to celebrate your birthday, why did you push me.” “Are you still holding a grudge against me because I reported you for cheating?” I helplessly wanted to explain, but before I could finish, my mother slapped me silly. She looked at my tightly wrapped outfit with disgust. “If you can lie about an allergy, you definitely cheated on the exam.” Then she looked at Sarah affectionately. “Sarah, Auntie wrongly blamed you before. My daughter cheated on the exam. Auntie apologizes to you.” But Mom, wasn’t it you who shielded me behind you and said you would always believe me back then? After going home, I had psychological trauma because of this bullying incident. Wasn’t it you who held me and coaxed me all night? The person who once said she believed me and protected me, how come now, she hurts me together with my enemies? Tears welled up in my sour and astringent eyes, and I tried hard to hold them back. The next second, my mother grabbed my collar, her tone disgusted. “Cry, cry, cry. How do you have the nerve? Apologize to Sarah immediately!” The allergy symptoms became more severe. The red rash spread to my chest. I couldn’t tell for a moment whether the suffocation was brought by the allergy, or if my mother’s words suffocated me more. I endured the pain and tried to explain, “I didn’t cheat. They cut my clothes and locked me in the bathroom…” My mother coldly cut off my words. “Why do they only bully you and not others?” She stripped off my clothes. My arms were exposed to the air, showing an abnormal red color. “Flies don’t bite seamless eggs. Look at how slutty you are; the curves of your body are outlined. Sarah taught my daughter a lesson for me; I should thank her.” I couldn’t believe these were words spoken by a mother. I interrupted her, devastated. “Mom!” My mother looked at my tears unmoved, instead pressing down on my shoulders. “Don’t pretend to be pitiful. Have you forgotten how Mom taught you? Be brave to admit your mistakes!” “You made Sarah suffer so much grievance for nothing. Now, kneel down and kowtow! Apologize to her!” I couldn’t believe what I heard—a mother making her daughter kowtow and apologize to her bully! But I didn’t have time to be angry. The allergy symptoms further deteriorated: Abdominal pain intensified, large patches of red rashes itched, and I started to have trouble breathing. I gasped heavily and begged my mother, “Give me the medicine. I feel so uncomfortable…” My mother still didn’t believe I was allergic to ginger. She shook the medicine, looking at me with a sneer. “Still pretending? I want to see how long you can keep up this act.” “Kneel down and kowtow three times to Sarah, and I’ll give you the medicine.” I knew my mother was conducting an obedience test again. Apologizing to the bully was to make me yield mentally. I lost my strength in despair. Pressed down by my mother’s hands on my shoulders, just as I was about to kneel to the bully in front of the whole class. A gentle voice rang out. “Auntie, what you are doing is wrong.” I looked back; it was the class president, Ethan. When I was bullied and isolated by classmates, only Ethan was willing to talk to me. He was a beam of light in my dark high school life, and also a person I genuinely appreciated and respected. Ethan helped me up, shielded me behind him, and looked straight at my mother. “Auntie, during the exam, I sat right behind Chloe. I can testify that she is innocent and didn’t cheat!” I felt unprecedented warmth. When even my own mother didn’t believe me, there was actually a person willing to stand up and support me. But at this time, my mother screamed and scratched at Ethan. “Why weren’t you looking at your exam paper during the test? What were you doing staring at my daughter?” “Chloe, you cheap tramp, wanting to seduce men right after coming of age?” “I was wondering why you spread your legs so wide when eating. It turns out you want to make money by serving men!” The boys’ eyes lingered on my legs, with playful smiles on their faces, discussing in low voices whether I was a virgin. What was even more excessive was that even Ethan, who kindly helped me, was misinterpreted. I felt ashamed, angry, and blamed myself, stammering to explain, “We are innocent.” But under my mother’s verbal abuse, no one believed me. Ethan, however, smiled and comforted me. “It’s okay, Chloe. The innocent are clear. They are ignorant. I won’t blame you.” I wanted to smile at him gratefully. But I had no extra strength left. It felt like cotton was blocking my throat, my hands and feet were ice cold, and my consciousness began to blur. Not knowing if I could still wait for the ambulance, I grabbed my mother’s pant leg and begged incoherently, “Medicine… medicine…”

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When the entertainment industry’s big celebrity “roundup” scandal broke, Tiffany was posting her ‘conquest’ photos on social media.” The caption read: “Battle-hardened, yet still haven’t experienced the feeling of pupils losing focus.” I found it amusing and even shared the gossip with my boyfriend, Adrian. But Adrian stared intently at his phone, his eyes bloodshot. That night, Adrian excused himself, claiming he had to work late. Hours later, the intern updated her “conquest” photos once more. “First ‘pupil focus loss’ experience: accomplished!” This time, the man in the picture had a distinctive red mole on his collarbone. It was identical to Adrian’s. 1. I’m not the type to just stew in silence, so I called Adrian immediately. But after a few “dings,” the call disconnected. I stubbornly tried several more times, each call hung up instantly. I left Adrian a message on our chat app, demanding he call me back right away to explain. But the next moment, I scrolled past two new posts from Tiffany. “Ugh, so annoying. Can some ‘doting wives’ develop a bit of self-sufficiency? Stop calling and disturbing people’s beauty sleep!!” “Called over a dozen times, truly frightening. I bet the doting wife will be kneeling downstairs at my apartment later, begging her husband to come home, right? (Mouth covered in a giggle)” These posts were clearly aimed directly at me. At this point, I didn’t need Adrian to confirm anything. So, I announced our breakup directly on my own social media. “Called my boyfriend, but accidentally woke up his bedmate. I felt truly bad, so I had no choice but to turn my boyfriend into an ex-boyfriend, just so the bedmate could calm down.” Then I messaged Adrian privately: “Unilateral breakup. You’re on your own.” Even though I’d sent the breakup message, a part of me still hoped Adrian would offer an explanation. We’d been childhood friends for over two decades; I didn’t want our relationship to end so ambiguously. A minute after sending the message, Adrian called me back. “Summer, I’m so sorry. My boss was holding us in a meeting, so I had to keep hanging up on you.” “Do you know your breakup message scared me? Are you misunderstanding something?” I didn’t reply, but listened carefully to the background noise on Adrian’s end. There was the sound of typing, and I could faintly hear a man’s voice hyping up his subordinates. “Summer, listen, if you don’t believe me, my colleagues are all working overtime right now. They’ll think I’m slacking if I even call you back.” Seeing I didn’t respond, Adrian immediately held his phone further away. The typing sounds from the phone grew clearer, occasionally mixed with a few grumbles from overworked employees. Could I really have misunderstood? But Tiffany’s posts were too coincidental. Adrian then softly pleaded with me a few more times, seemingly being urged by his colleagues’ glares. After much thought, I decided to wait for Adrian to return home to clear things up. 2. The next morning, Adrian came home, looking exhausted. He had faint dark circles under his eyes, as if he really had worked all night. But seeing me, he still forced a smile, trying to appear energetic. He held up a bag and said, “Summer, haven’t you been wanting to try the pastries from that new bakery? I specifically waited in line to get them. Try them while they’re still warm.” The bag contained pastries from a popular bakery. They were supposedly so popular you had to queue for an hour to get them. My mood brightened a little. Maybe I was just overthinking things. But after opening the box, I paused again. I remembered the bakery’s promotional images showed eight pastries, but there were only six here. The pastries were also no longer warm, and even had some congealed grease on them. They looked like leftovers. Adrian noticed my confusion and explained, “Maybe the bakery was too busy and gave the wrong quantity. And I rushed home, so some of the filling might have leaked, which is why they look like this.” “I’m sorry I couldn’t get my darling Summer the best-looking pastries. It’s my fault.” Adrian resorted to his usual charming act, trying to win me over. But after the events of last night, the alarm bells in my mind wouldn’t stop ringing. I didn’t avoid Adrian. I directly took out my phone to check Tiffany’s updates. Sure enough, just fifteen minutes earlier, Tiffany had uploaded several breakfast photos on another platform. “The man who abandoned his ‘lovesick old lady’ to sleep with me actually queued for an hour this morning to buy me pastries, supposedly from a bakery the old lady always wanted to try but never got to!” The photos clearly showed pastries and popular new items from that very bakery. On the table were used tissues and two sets of cutlery, and there were exactly six leftover pastries in the box. For a moment, I didn’t know whether to be angry or to just smile bitterly. Adrian was willing to queue for an hour for Tiffany, but he couldn’t even bother to buy a full box of pastries to fool me. I placed my phone in front of Adrian, waiting to see what else he would try. Adrian’s face fell. Then, frantically, he reached out to grab my hand, but I pulled away. “Summer, I know what you’re thinking. You think I have something going on with that crazy woman, but I swear I haven’t had any contact with her!” “I really was working overtime last night, all the way until this morning. If you don’t believe me, you should believe my colleagues, right? You’ve met Daniel and Robert before; they can vouch for me!” As he spoke, Adrian called Daniel. The call was answered quickly. Daniel, having heard the gist of the situation, vouched for Adrian wholeheartedly. “Summer, you have to believe Adrian. All of us colleagues know how much he loves you. How could he cheat?” “We worked overtime all night yesterday. I have video proof. If you don’t believe me, I can send you the video.” Adrian also looked at me sincerely, his eyes watery like a large dog afraid of being abandoned. I received the video from Daniel. Everything in the video looked normal; they were indeed working overtime. But Adrian, who briefly flashed by in the video, wasn’t wearing the same clothes as last night. I asked Daniel, “The shooting date of this video isn’t yesterday, is it? Are you really going to use your integrity to cover for Adrian’s lie?” Daniel still tried to argue, but I shut him down with one sentence: “My mother just prayed for me yesterday. The oracle said that anyone who lies to me will have a year of bad luck.” Daniel, originally from a superstitious background, immediately fell silent. 3. Adrian kept trying to explain. But I was focused on only one thing: packing all of Adrian’s clothes into a suitcase and throwing it out the door. I stood at the doorway, gesturing for Adrian to take his things and get out of the apartment. Seeing me so cold-hearted, Adrian also started to get angry. “Summer, do you have to be like this? I’ve explained everything. I have nothing to do with that crazy woman, but you just won’t listen to me and live in your own delusions!” “How many more times do I have to say it? I’m innocent. I never cheated on you!” Faced with his evasions, I said only one word. “Get out—” 4. Adrian and I officially separated. My friends all assumed I was single again, and some even sent me contacts for younger men, telling me to just relax and have some fun. I wasn’t in a hurry to start a new relationship. Adrian and I had known each other for over two decades and been in love for ten years; the impact of that relationship wouldn’t simply vanish overnight. Moreover, Adrian was still relentlessly bothering me, which made me even less inclined to love someone new. Seeing that I was unresponsive, Adrian packed gifts and went to visit my parents. He adopted a humble posture and tearfully complained to my parents for a long time. He claimed that other women were trying to seduce him, and when he refused, they tried to falsely accuse him. After some back and forth, my father actually believed him and urged me to reconcile with him. “Your father heard from Adrian. That woman tried to seduce him, and that’s why she went to such lengths to destroy your relationship. You need to trust Adrian more. You two are going to get married. How can you always be so suspicious of your husband?” I couldn’t be bothered to listen to my father’s old-fashioned nonsense about marital virtues, so I quickly said a few words and hung up. Then I unblocked Adrian, sent him a middle finger emoji, and dragged him back to the block list. Probably thinking that appealing to my parents had worked, Adrian went to my house for several days in a row to drink with my father. After a while, even my mother believed his nonsense and advised me to give him another chance. I was so annoyed that I decided to talk to Adrian in person. Fearing Adrian might try some candlelight dinner, kneeling-to-propose-reconciliation trick, I didn’t schedule a meeting in advance. Instead, I went directly to Adrian’s apartment after work to wait for him. Who knew I’d stumble upon a big surprise shortly after arriving? Adrian walked ahead, his face cold, while a long-haired woman scurried behind him and hugged him. “Tiffany, I told you, don’t come looking for me anymore!” Adrian seemed very angry. He struggled a few times but couldn’t break free from Tiffany’s embrace. Tiffany buried her face in his back, laughing freely: “Adrian, stop pretending. Who was it who said they’d die happy in my arms? How could you forget what you said after just a few days?” Her slender fingers caressed Adrian’s face, then she blew a breath into his ear. “I’m in my safe period today, and I haven’t had dinner. Want to take me to your place for a bit?” Adrian’s face remained grim, but he stopped struggling. Seeing this, Tiffany walked directly in front of him and kissed him. They kissed for a long time, so long that I managed to record two long videos before they finally stopped. Adrian cursed, “Are you that desperate for a man? Can any man just take you home?” Tiffany chuckled, “No, it has to be a man I fancy.” Adrian snarled, “Are you a public transport vehicle?” Tiffany said, “But aren’t I the ‘public transport vehicle’ you love?” The two of them were entwined for so long, they didn’t even notice me standing nearby. Perfect. I didn’t need to talk to Adrian anymore. The footage I had just recorded on my phone would be enough to shut everyone up. Back home, I sent the uncut video to my social media, with the caption: “Two public transport vehicles illegally entered [Apartment Name]—is it a distortion of human nature or the degradation of morality?” 5. Over the next few hours, I received countless messages and calls, all wanting to extract new gossip from me. A few friends even created a group chat to furiously denounce Adrian, with even his childhood bedwetting being cited as a sign of his scoundrel nature. My mom called too, asking, “Summer, did Adrian really do something like that?” I sighed, “Absolutely. I listened to your advice and wanted to talk to him properly, but when I went to his apartment building, I stumbled upon this.” “Ugh, Mom, I feel so exhausted, I don’t want to love anymore…” I deliberately adopted a depressed tone, which made my mom scold my dad, telling him not to consider Adrian, that scoundrel, as a son-in-law anymore. Over the next few days, the incident’s popularity didn’t wane, even spreading to old alumni groups. Because of this, Adrian, who had been kept in the dark by mutual friends, found out. He called, trying to get me to delete the video and clear his name. “Summer, I don’t know when you got to my apartment, but that day I was really rejecting Tiffany. She forced a kiss on me. I was the one being molested.” Banking on the blurry audio in the video, Adrian assumed I hadn’t heard their explicit flirting, so he tried to fool me like an idiot. “Adrian, stop treating everyone like fools. You’re a young man, 6 feet 1 and 155 pounds, and you’re telling me you were helpless against a frail woman’s molestation?” “You might as well openly admit you enjoyed it. At least then I wouldn’t add another mark against you in my mind.” “Summer!” Adrian’s tone was agitated. “Do you know that because of this video, my company’s management has already spoken to me, and my old classmates are all laughing at me behind my back? This was all just a misunderstanding, why do you have to post it online and ruin me?” “Come on, Summer, quickly delete those videos and help me clarify with our classmates.” “Just say I was drunk that day, disoriented, and Tiffany forced a kiss on me. I promise nothing like this will ever happen again. We’ll be good from now on, okay?” I scoffed, “Adrian, did you ‘slip’ into bed with Tiffany too? Stop feigning sincerity. Even a dog’s bark is more believable than you.” At this point, Adrian dropped his act of being a devoted partner and roared furiously: “Summer! We were together for ten years, how could you stab me in the back like this?” Even through the phone, I could feel Adrian’s rage. Yes, everything I did was indeed meant to spite him. He thought I disregarded our past affection, but did he ever consider my feelings when he was fooling around with Tiffany? If I were a lovesick fool, I’d probably be in agony right now. “Adrian, I merely told everyone the truth. Is that considered a betrayal?” “Let me tell you what a betrayal is: a betrayal is you lying to me to go mess around with Tiffany. A betrayal is you disregarding our twenty years of friendship, acting like a public transport vehicle while still expecting me to be your sucker and marry you.” Due to his guilt, Adrian unconsciously raised his voice: “Summer! I just made a mistake any man might make! Why are you so heartless? Do you have to completely ruin me?” “I’m not ruining you; you’re ruining yourself. But don’t overthink it. Things like AIDS or syphilis probably won’t be so unlucky as to infect you. The probability is likely zero.” With that, I intended to hang up, but Adrian delivered one last threat. “Fine, Summer, don’t you dare regret this! You’re just jealous that Tiffany attracts men, aren’t you? Then I’ll be with her, and make you, this ‘man-hater,’ look even more pathetic!” Adrian clearly didn’t realize his threat had no effect on me. Losing his love was like a shark losing a chicken bone. For a while after, Adrian, to spite me, would constantly flaunt his relationship with Tiffany in various ways. He not only posted intimate photos and gift photos of them, but also shared pictures of the ultra-thin condoms they used. To ensure I saw them, Adrian even created a new account and paid for promotional ads. Tiffany also boldly declared on her social media: “It’s 2024, and I can’t believe there are still such old-fashioned ‘old maid’ wives out there. She got dumped by a man, and now she’s taking it out on another beautiful woman (eye roll) (eye roll)” “So what if I’m a ‘thousand-man slayer’? Are you jealous? Just say it. Don’t snoop and take pictures like a cockroach in the shadows. But it’s all good now~ The little cockroach’s darling husband is now my forty-ninth boyfriend. The wife must be crying her eyes out in the restroom~ (smile) (confetti)” This prompted several mutual friends to send me screenshots, asking if they had lost their minds. I replied: “Perhaps their brains are rotting.”

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After breaking up with Ethan Cole, I found out I was three months pregnant. I raised my daughter Lily alone for five years. But working three jobs took its toll, and I died suddenly from a stroke. I floated in mid-air. Suddenly I saw. Ethan Cole, now an award-winning movie star. Knocking on my door. 1 It took a long time for the door to open. “Who are you?” The one who opened the door was my daughter, Lily. She stood on her tiptoes to reach the lock of the main door, taking quite a while. She looked warily at my ex-boyfriend, who was also her biological father, Ethan Cole. Seeing it wasn’t me, Lily was about to close the door immediately. Ethan propped the door open. Frowning, “Where is Chloe Cloud?” Lily thought for a moment, looked up, and smiled brightly. “You’re looking for my mom. My mom isn’t home.” “She’s working.” Ethan’s face turned grim. He asked again: “Where’s your dad?” [It’s you! Her father is you!] I shouted anxiously in mid-air, but he couldn’t hear. Lily thought for a bit. “My dad is making big money in a very faraway place. Mom said he’ll come to pick us up when he makes enough money.” Ethan’s brow furrowed tightly. Suddenly he laughed self-deprecatingly. Muttering to himself in a low voice. “Heh, I was crazy to think you would wait for me.” With that. He turned to leave. He suddenly paused again. Asked for Lily’s full name. “Lily Cloud.” “Mom says I’m her little lily flower, so I’m called Lily Cloud.” Lily said it with great pride. Ethan’s gaze searched her face. Seeming to look for some proof. But in the end, he said nothing. Stepped into his stretch limo. I watched the car driving away in the distance, screaming. [Don’t go, Ethan Cole. If you leave, what will happen to our Lily?] [She’s only five. How can she survive alone?] I gently coaxed my daughter, who was blinking her eyes watching the car speeding away in the dust. [Lily be good, go chase daddy. Now that mommy is gone, only he can raise you.] But Lily couldn’t hear either. She just said one sentence: “What a strange uncle.” Then closed the door. At this moment, I wished I could slap myself hard. Why didn’t I tell Lily who her father was earlier. Why didn’t I show Lily a photo of her biological father. This is all my fault. It doesn’t matter if I die. But what about my daughter? 2 Lily swung her little legs, waiting for me to come home. The afterglow of the setting sun faded. The sky gradually darkened. Reasonably speaking, I should have been back long ago. Because Lily is afraid of the dark. But I was already dead. My colleague just received the notification of my failed resuscitation at the hospital. And was about to notify my family. But opening my phone, she found the family column in my contacts was empty. However, they knew I had a child. So, the phone at home rang that night. Lily ran towards the phone with her short legs. “Hello.” The childish voice made my colleague’s eyes misty. She didn’t know how to explain to a little girl that her mother was dead. And wouldn’t come back again. “Is it mommy?” Lily’s voice carried excitement. “Are you working overtime again? It’s okay, Lily is fine, not hungry at all. Lily just ate the bread mommy bought.” Saying that, she patted her round belly. “Lily, your mom just passed away.” Lily asked in confusion: “Where did she go? But it’s okay, mommy will definitely take Lily with her.” Once before, due to work arrangements, I went on a business trip to a neighboring state. Worried about leaving Lily alone at home. I took her with me. That was Lily’s first long trip. Sitting on the train, she pointed at the scenery outside the window excitedly. So now Lily still thought I just went on a business trip somewhere. After hearing this, my colleague sighed. Didn’t know what else to say. Could only hang up the phone. Finally, she represented the company to send my body for cremation. I was left with only an urn of ashes. 3 This night passed exceptionally slowly. It was also the first time I didn’t come back. Every once in a while, Lily would run to the door to see if I was there. But soon, scared by the darkness, she would run back. Just like this, running back and forth many times. Unable to resist sleepiness. She finally fell asleep hugging the teddy bear I bought. Dawn broke, roosters crowed. She was startled awake. And rushed to the door again. Seeing I hadn’t returned yet. A trace of disappointment flashed across Lily’s face. But soon, she comforted herself again. “It’s okay, mom is just too busy, she’ll be back soon.” Having eaten nothing all night, Lily’s stomach growled. She could only eat the bread I bought to fill her stomach. And opened the milk I bought. Imitating me, she wanted to heat up some water to warm the milk. “Mom said can’t drink cold, otherwise will get a tummy ache.” Lily said while carrying a pot filled with water. But her hands were so small, how could she carry it. I was extremely anxious, telling her not to do this. But there was nothing I could do. When Lily stood on the stool, just about to put the pot on the stove. Her strength failed, and water spilled all over the floor. Even the pot smashed onto her little foot, and her instep swelled up immediately. My heart ached like a sharp blade was gouging it. But also rejoiced, this wasn’t boiling water. Lily sobbed softly. Soon hugging her foot again, blowing on it. “Mommy isn’t here, Lily blows on it herself, then it won’t hurt.” She wiped her tears. Moved a stool. Sat in front of the living room, staring unblinkingly at the door. “Lily won’t cry. When mommy comes back, she’ll praise Lily for being brave.” Lily is very obedient, very sensible. Sensible enough to make my heart ache. How I wished she would resent me at this moment, blame me for being an incompetent mother. But she just waited very obediently for me to return. 4 Two hours later. A car stopped at my door. My colleague knocked on the door. Lily was extremely excited, thinking it was me. Ran very fast. But tripped unexpectedly. Her calf was scraped by a sharp stone. But she just frowned, got up quickly. After opening the door. Seeing it wasn’t me. Her emotions finally went out of control. Crying loudly. “Mommy, why isn’t mommy back yet.” “Lily’s foot is swollen, leg also hurts from falling, Lily has been very brave.” “But mommy still isn’t back, mommy doesn’t feel sorry for Lily anymore.” “Does mommy not love me anymore.” Lily cried heart-wrenchingly. I listened with my heart shattered on the ground. … My colleague hurriedly comforted her. And found the home first aid kit to disinfect Lily’s leg with alcohol and put on a band-aid. After everything was arranged properly. My colleague brought back my urn and belongings from the company. Lily didn’t understand. But seeing a photo taken with Lily at the amusement park not long ago inside. In the photo, I was holding Lily, and we were both smiling happily. She recognized me. Asking her: “Sister, are these all my mommy’s things? Then where did my mommy go?” My colleague held back tears. Pointed to that urn. “Your mommy is inside here. If you miss her, just hug it and talk to it.” Lily shook her head. “How could my mommy turn into a jar, she’s not the Monkey King, only the Monkey King can transform, you’re lying.” Then she hugged my photo in her arms. “This is my mommy.” And gave it a kiss. Smiling sweetly. My colleague sighed and put my urn on a high place. Then looked around. Asking: “Where’s your dad? Are you alone at home?” Lily lowered her head. “Mommy said daddy went to a very faraway place to make money, I haven’t seen daddy since I was little.” My colleague couldn’t believe it. “Then don’t you have other family members? Grandparents?” Lily shook her head. My colleague could no longer hold back tears, hugging her in her arms. “Poor child.” “You’re so young, how could your mom bear to leave you alone and go.” Lily retorted her. “Mommy wouldn’t leave me, mommy likes Lily the most.” My colleague put a card into Lily’s hand. “This is the compensation money from the company for your mom’s passing. There is two hundred thousand dollars in the card, the password is six eights. Keep it well. Don’t lose it.” Lily nodded seriously. Clutching the card tightly in her hand. Because of poverty, I taught Lily from a young age that money is a good thing and must be taken care of. Now, she also kept it in mind. After considering everything. My colleague called the local welfare agency. It was prepared specifically for these homeless children. I was extremely grateful. Bowing to my colleague in the air. [Thank you.] If she can be sent to the orphanage, at least my Lily can survive.

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After Sylvia’s accident, the grief was a vacuum, and in a spectacular display of misplaced devotion—or maybe just sheer, spectacular madness—I turned to the only thing left: her ex-boyfriend, Nathan Ronald. “Sylvia, I need to tell you something. Please, try not to be mad…” “Nathan and I are a thing now!” Standing by her headstone, a shy blush warming my cheeks, I confessed. “I said so many awful things about him before, but I was wrong. Once we were together, I finally saw how truly good he is.” “I can’t stay long, though. Nathan doesn’t like me to be out for too long.” “Oh! Before I go, tonight, you absolutely have to send me the next Powerball numbers in a dream. That way, my sweet Nathan can save up the down payment for a house and finally marry me!” “Promise you’ll come through! I miss you so much down here.” My best friend, Sylvia Bell, was nothing if not dependable. 1. That very night, she broke into my dream, driving a massive semi-truck that pinned me down and proceeded to roll over me—again and again. “I didn’t see you, my bad,” she muttered. “Thought it was a speed bump.” “You are so clingy, Lucy Moore. Try sticking to my tires one more time, I dare you.” “Why are you using your face to collide with my axle?” “If you ask me, someone else deserved to die. Someone is being shady as hell, and you’re being incredibly obtuse.” She sounded furious, but I didn’t feel any pain. When she finally paused, exhausted from the metaphysical vehicular manslaughter, I wriggled out from underneath, grabbed her hand, and squealed with delight. “Sylvia, Sylvia, it’s really you! God, I missed you!” She let me rush her in a clumsy hug. Her perfect, winged brows were slightly furrowed, but she didn’t pull away, letting me clutch at her like a frantic puppy. “Sylvia, Sylvia, pop quiz! Guess who showed up right after your… crash?” I rushed the answer before she could speak. “It was Nathan, your ex! He came straight to my company building and waited for me. He wouldn’t leave until I saw him—three whole days he stood there!” Sylvia’s face darkened. “He had the audacity to seek you out?” “Why wouldn’t he?” I said, confused. “He did more than that. He proposed! He told me he was one of the people who missed you the most, and one of the only people who truly understood me. He said he was willing to inherit the legacy you left behind in this world, and that legacy is me!” “He promised to be devoted to me for life, to take care of me in your place, and never, ever stray. Where do you find a man with that kind of old-school loyalty these days? I said yes!” Sylvia’s composure finally snapped. She slapped my hand away, her beautiful eyes wide and blazing, exactly the way mine used to be. “Lucy Moore! Do you know that some things that look dirty actually require a certain status? If a man is chased by thousands and stays faithful, that’s character. If a nobody is ignored by everyone and stays faithful, that’s just incompetence!” “If the field is empty, does the goalkeeper still get credit for a shutout?” “He’s nearly forty and not married. Does that tell you he’s got no ambition, or something else is structurally unsound?” 2 She rattled off a complex, winding argument. I blinked at her. “But I thought it was incredibly romantic. It felt… fated.” “Besides, in ancient times, didn’t women in prominent families share husbands? It’s practically a time-honored tradition—” “I’m talking to a wall,” Sylvia hissed, placing her hands on her hips. “Did it ever occur to you how a poor guy with average looks, no money, no power, and no college degree climbed his way up to be a hotel general manager?” She pointed to herself, then jabbed a finger at my forehead. “It was because of what?!” I thought for a long moment, then whispered, “Because of love?” “I spit on that!” “It was because of scheming! He is obviously manipulating us, manipulating our friendship, Lucy!” “But why would he only manipulate us?” I wasn’t buying it. I leaned in, serious. “Out of all the people in the world, why did he pick me from the crowd?” “It means I am the most suitable partner for him! We are a match made in heaven, Sylvia. Why can’t you just be happy for me?” “Unless…” I narrowed my eyes. “Unless you’re still in love with him!” “Your words still love him, your tone still loves him, and the only reason you’re stopping us is because you still love him!” My eyes welled up. I felt like I had uncovered a heartbreaking truth. “Oh, Sylvia, if only you were still here, the three of us could have made it work. That would have been better than anything…” “I could throttle you right now!” Sylvia roared, jumping up to furiously pinch the soft flesh on my side. “You idiot! You moron! You’d be sold into slavery and still thank the auctioneer! Nathan is not a good guy! My accident was because he—” Her eyes were burning red with fury. But the words caught in her throat, as if a spectral hand had clamped down on her windpipe. Her pretty face flushed scarlet, and she couldn’t complete the sentence. I was instantly scared. I reached out to soothe her. “I know, I know. You were going to say your accident happened when you were rushing out to meet him after he suddenly broke up with you, right?” “But you can’t blame him for that. That semi blew a red light, and the driver tried to swerve but couldn’t avoid it…” “Forget it. Dream time is short. Do you have anything you want me to tell your parents? Hurry up and tell me.” 3 The alarm clock blared, shattering the dream. Fearing I would forget, I grabbed a notepad and a pen to write down everything Sylvia had said. Halfway through, I slapped my forehead. “That deadbeat didn’t give me the Powerball numbers!” As I scribbled furiously, a stream of floating text began refreshing rapidly above my head, a constant, ugly intrusion on my reality. This was the Scrolling Commentary. [LOL the Second Female Lead finally bites it. Serves her right for looking down on the hero and trying to force him to be a live-in husband. She deserves to die!] [Exactly. So what if her family owns a hotel? Does that give her the right to look down on a man? Forcing a man to move in is like rubbing our male dignity in the dirt!] [The car crash was a soft death, honestly. At least he let her keep a whole corpse.] [Heh heh, how else is the New Female Lead going to move up? Speaking of which, the New Female Lead’s body is fire. Big tits, tiny waist, plump ass. Perfect for a launchpad.] [Ah, another day of wishing I could possess the hero!] [But her nails are so long and bedazzled. She looks like a high-maintenance gold-digger.] [Who cares? Once the hero gets power, he’ll tell her to cut them, and she will. It’s just one sentence!] My hand froze. I put the pen down, pulled on a robe, and checked my phone. A string of missed calls, all from Nathan, all around midnight. He stopped calling after that, but two hours later, at 2 AM, he sent a text: “Baby, I love you the most, boo hoo hoo.” Then at 4 AM: “Sweetheart, you know I love you, right? Muah muah muah!” What was that about? I frowned in confusion. The Feed scrolled past at lightning speed: [Idiot. Should’ve kept your sound on. The hero was drugged by a rival at a dinner party last night. He was burning up. He wanted you to save him, but you didn’t come through!] [This New Female Lead is totally dropping the ball. Our hero, in his semi-conscious state, stumbled right into the suite of Victor Kane, the City Titan! The Titan liked the taste, apparently. Nailed him seven times in one night.] [Eh, it was a blessing in disguise. Now the Titan can’t forget him. He’ll find him again later and use his connections to boost the hero’s career.] [You have to pay the cost to succeed. Who understands the tragedy of us working-class men!] [Say no more, brothers. It’s all in the wine!] 4 I texted Nathan, but he didn’t reply. He finally picked up around noon. His voice was rough, weak, and thick with congestion. “I’m fine, baby, I just drank too much last night… No, no need to pick me up. I’m already out of the hotel—I mean, out of the house. On my way to work.” “By the way, baby, tonight is a major gala. Damon Shaw, the City Scion, is hosting it himself. Come with me, you might even be able to drum up some new investors for your family’s business.” I happily agreed. Nathan might have been from a small town, but he had an uncanny social antennae for elite events, a sharp sense of which rooms held opportunity. His decisions were usually sound, which was why Sylvia’s father had trusted him with the hotel business. Except he got one thing wrong. It wasn’t him bringing me to the party; it was me bringing him. The Feed flashed: [Here we go! This is the party! The New Female Lead gets drugged, meant to be sent to some fat cat CEO, but she accidentally ends up in the Scion’s room! The Scion has a good time and, in return, throws a huge chunk of investment money at her family’s company!] [HAHAHA, the New Female Lead, meanwhile, still thinks she slept with the hero, and stays loyal, giving him everything he wants. Before she dies, she writes him into her will, leaving him all her shares, massively expanding his empire!] [I love the leverage. Let all those snobs look down on the hero—he used her family to lift himself up anyway!] [But seriously, brothers, she’s so hot, is it a waste to pass her around?] [My brother, you can’t be so short-sighted. When the hero is rich, he can have any woman! A man must endure what others cannot and tolerate what others will not! He has to sacrifice even himself to succeed, let alone a woman! The New Female Lead is the best stepping stone for the hero to enter the A-list circle!] Before the gala, Nathan repeatedly instructed me not to reveal our relationship. When I asked why, he put on a thoughtful expression. “Baby, people will think you’re too consumed by love and your professional ability is lacking. We don’t want that.” Sounded reasonable. I nodded. Night fell. The party was held at the Shaw family estate—a place of opulence, shimmering with chandeliers and clinking glasses. I wore a black-and-gold velvet sheath dress and stiletto sparkle heels, elegant but body-hugging. I drew plenty of attention the moment I walked in. A flicker of resentment crossed Nathan’s eyes. But it was instantly replaced by a gentlemanly smile. He confidently took my arm, waiting at my side for me to introduce him. Seeing his practiced composure, the look of a confident social climber, I couldn’t help but think… It must have been the same before. Nathan was always this gentle and harmless, a deadly vine silently climbing onto warm, living flesh. The only difference was that the woman standing beside him wasn’t me. It was Sylvia. 5 “Ms. Moore, and who is this gentleman?” Everyone in the inner circle knew I never brought dates to these events. The sight of a grown man at my side naturally sparked curiosity. I offered a polite nod and explained, “This is Nathan Ronald, my… personal assistant.” The guests, all social veterans, read the ambiguity in my tone and offered a noncommittal hello. The warm greetings Nathan expected died in the air. He cleared his throat and smoothly retracted the hand he’d offered, replacing it with a gentle, attentive touch as he draped a shawl over my shoulders. He whispered that he was going to fetch me a drink, and then gracefully walked away. The Feed was less composed. They were absolutely livid, shouting obscenities: [New Female Lead, I advise you to be kind! Don’t push your luck!] [The most important thing for a man is his face! If you don’t respect him now, he’ll make your life a living hell later!] [The husband is the lord of the wife! How dare she speak to her heavenly protector like that! She’s going to start a revolt!] [Hmph. I’m exactly like this. I can joke around most of the time, but if you disrespect me, I will show you true darkness! I wanted to be a saint to everyone, but some people force me to unleash the demon inside. I ask you: can you control a demon once it is set loose?!] [Women always get wild once they see the outside world. She needs to be taught a lesson. Slap her twice, first!] [Don’t worry, everyone. The hero has already slipped the drug. He was going to take it easy on her since it was her first time, but now, he’s putting the whole thing in!] [To destroy her, one must first make her insane. Be arrogant while you can, New Female Lead. You’ll be begging for mercy soon enough!] While Nathan was gone, I slipped out onto the balcony. The deep winter night was cold and severe. The sky was a heavy, lightless canvas, hiding the moon. A moment later, the cold air beside me shifted, and I caught the scent of warm gardenia. “And who are you, sister? I haven’t seen you around.” The voice was laced with easy mockery. I rolled my eyes. “Damon Shaw, what is your deal this time?”

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