Category: English

The first time my boyfriend, Kevin, took me back to his family’s small, rural hometown, I stopped at a boutique in the nearby town to pick up several boxes of beautifully packaged pastries as a hostess gift. The moment I stepped through the door, offering the box with a nervous smile, the warmth from the neighbors gathered inside evaporated. An older woman, who had just greeted me with a hug, suddenly backed away, her face draining of color. She spat a disgusted sound onto the floor. “Pah! That girl looks sweet, but she’s clearly mixed up in something foul!” I froze, humiliated. Kevin, seeing the scene, snatched the elegant box from my hand. His face instantly turned to stone. “It’s over! Get out of my house right now!” He slammed the box onto the slate floor. The delicate petit fours inside shattered, turning to dust. Kevin’s father burst from the kitchen, grabbing a shovel leaning by the hearth, ready to drive me out. “Get out! Bringing a thing like that to my door, are you trying to wish death on me?” I stared at the ruins on the floor, my mind utterly blank. 1 “How could they just humiliate me like that? It was just a box of fancy matcha shortbread!” Clutching my phone, I sobbed uncontrollably to Maya, my best friend, recounting the cruelty I’d suffered at Kevin’s family home. “Are you sure they were just… regular pastries?” Maya’s voice was strained with suspicion. Tears streamed down my face, splattering onto my hand. “Of course! I even waited in line at that trendy, artisanal bakery downtown. Each box cost me a fortune!” “And when I first arrived, everyone in the village was so friendly, but the second Kevin’s dad smashed the box, they all looked at me like I was a murderer.” “I’ve been thrown out. I’m standing alone at the edge of town, and I honestly can’t understand it. Are small towns in the South this obsessed with bizarre superstitions?” Hearing my voice crack with despair, Maya quickly tried to soothe me. “Okay, honey, calm down. First, send me a picture of the pastry box and the receipt.” “Don’t worry. If this is just some twisted, localized game they’re playing to bully you, I’ll drive up there with my brother and we’ll trash their porch for you.” That promise of solidarity provided a momentary anchor. My hands trembling, I opened the ordering app, found the receipt, and sent the product page and the order details to Maya. Thirty seconds later, the phone rang. I took a shaky breath, ready to lean into her for comfort, but the voice that answered was tight, barely recognizable, and edged with a terrifying tremor. “That order—is this really what you bought?” “Is that what you intended to bring to his parents?” That familiar, ominous shift in tone—Kevin had asked me the same thing right before he smashed the box. My heart plummeted. I instinctively tried to explain, but Maya’s voice suddenly became sharp and piercing, like she was talking to a complete stranger. “Joanna, I honestly regret every year I’ve known you!” “You psycho. How could you do something so evil, so morally depraved? Those are living, breathing people!” “Don’t ever contact me again. I feel sick.” She hung up, giving me no chance to defend myself. When I tried to call back, I only heard the sterile “The user you are trying to reach is unavailable.” My texts were met with the unforgiving red exclamation point. I stood on the curb of the unfamiliar street, the icy wind biting at me. I felt as if I’d been struck by lightning. Someone please tell me what is happening! 2 In a state of shock, I took a taxi back to my city apartment late that night. I pulled out my keys, but before I could turn the lock, the door was yanked open from the inside. It was my parents. Their faces were ashen and grim. Two of my packed suitcases sat at their feet. My mother, whose eyes were always filled with loving patience, looked at me now with nothing but cold loathing. Before I could step across the threshold, she shoved the heavy luggage out the door, the case nearly slamming onto my feet. “Dad? Mom? What are you doing?” I panicked, scrambling to grab my mother’s arm, my tears starting again. “It’s bad enough Kevin’s family bullied me. Why are you doing this, too?” “I’m your only daughter. You’re supposed to stand up for me right now!” “Please, even if you’re kicking me out, at least tell me what I did wrong!” My father stood behind her, a cigarette burning between his fingers, refusing to even look at me. I was air. My mother violently wrenched her arm free, the force sending me stumbling backward into the hallway wall. The dull ache in my back was nothing compared to the terror seizing my chest. My mother, who never raised her voice, pointed a trembling finger directly at my nose. “Don’t call me Mom! Our family doesn’t breed evil like you!” “Relatives were calling to scream at me, and I defended you—until I saw that order screenshot…” “Joanna, do you have a heart at all? That was a gift for elders! How dare you give them that?” Leaning against the cold plaster, I cried out in despair. “It was just a few pastries! I won’t buy that brand again! Is that it?” “Just because I didn’t understand some ancient custom, did I deserve a death sentence? Did Kevin brainwash you all?” At the mention of the “pastry,” my father snapped. He lunged forward, raising his hand to strike me, but stopped in mid-air, his eyes filled with agonizing disappointment. “You created this mess, and you have the nerve to blame others?” “Bringing that kind of cursed item to their home… you want the entire world to point fingers at us?!” “Get out! Now! If you have any decency left, disappear and never show your face again!” The door slammed shut with a final, brutal sound. The cold, hard click of the deadbolt severed the last connection I had to my home. I sank to the floor in the hallway, hugging my knees. The whole world was spinning, collapsing. If I was truly in the wrong, why wouldn’t a single person explain to me what those boxes of pastries actually represented? To be abandoned like this, over an unnamed crime—I refused to accept it! 3 I slept fitfully in a cheap hotel, my eyes swollen from crying. The next morning, I went straight to the nearest police precinct. On the way, I decided to test the waters. I stopped a kind-looking old woman on the street and showed her the photo of the pastry box on my phone. At first, the woman smiled warmly. “Oh, that packaging is quite elegant. A lovely gift.” My spirits lifted. I quickly asked, “And what if I were to give this to my boyfriend’s parents?” The smile vanished instantly. It was replaced by an expression of pure, unadulterated terror and disgust, like she’d just seen a plague rat. “Pah! Such depravity!” She spat a glob of phlegm near my feet and swung the shopping bag in her hand, hitting my shoulder. “Young people today! Doing such despicable, evil things! Why don’t you just get hit by a bus!” Bystanders noticed the commotion and gathered around. They didn’t know the cause at first, but when they heard the old woman reference the reason, their expressions darkened. They looked at me as if they wanted to tear me limb from limb. Terrified, I turned and ran, nearly twisting my ankle. Even so, I was determined to know the truth. At the police station, I poured out the entire absurd story to the officers, feeling like I was finally grabbing hold of a lifeline. Tears running down my face, I placed my phone on the desk. “Officers, I don’t understand. Everyone is acting insane.” “I just bought a few pastries. How did I become a public enemy?” The officer dealing with me, a young woman, was joined by a veteran cop. Both looked grave. The young woman handed me a tissue. “Ma’am, based on your description, if this isn’t some massive cultural misunderstanding, it is highly unusual.” “Rest assured, we are law enforcement. We deal with evidence and law, not emotions. Let us see the photo of this item.” Hearing that, the knot in my stomach loosened a bit. Here, at least, was a semblance of logic. My fingers shaking, I tapped open the product page and slid the phone across the desk. However, the instant the two police officers saw the screen, that same chilling, familiar, and utterly suffocating atmosphere descended again. 4 The young officer’s previously gentle gaze sharpened into cold steel. She sprang to her feet, her hand instinctively resting on the equipment belt at her waist, as if I were an extremely dangerous terrorist. The veteran officer’s face was dark, staring at me with contempt and deep suspicion. “Ma’am, are you seriously trying to play games with us?” He slammed his hand on the desk, the sound loud enough to make my ears ring. “You purchase an item like that and then come here claiming innocence?” “We now have serious concerns that you may be attempting to endanger public safety or may be involved in a fraud scheme. We require your immediate cooperation!” I was too stunned by the abrupt shift to speak. My back pressed against the chair, my voice shaking uncontrollably. “Officers, it’s matcha shortbread! I checked the ingredients multiple times—it’s just green tea and sugar!” “What law have I broken?” The veteran officer sneered. “Matcha shortbread? I think you’ve got mush in your head!” Ignoring my pleas, he ordered the young officer to search me and demanded my ID and phone. They began running my information through the system. In that moment, I felt stripped bare, standing under a spotlight, every last shred of my dignity crushed. Half an hour later, they confirmed I had no criminal record, but their attitude did not thaw. The young officer tossed my ID back onto the desk, her voice like ice. “Ms. Bishop, while there is no evidence at this time that you have caused substantive harm, your actions are a severe violation of public decency and order.” “I am warning you: if you dare to parade this item around or attempt to harass the victims’ family, this will be more than just a verbal warning.” I gripped the edge of the table, utterly distraught. “Can you just tell me why? Why is everyone acting like this?” “Even if you sentence me, you have to tell me the crime! I’m going crazy! Am I having a psychotic break, or has the whole world lost its mind?” The two officers exchanged weary, impatient glances. The veteran sighed, pointing toward the door with an expression of dismissive disgust. “You absolutely need to see a doctor.” “Go to Metropolitan General and see a psychiatrist. Maybe a professional can help you clear your head and realize the heinous thing you’ve done.” “Now get out. You’re wasting our time.” I was ejected from the precinct and sank onto the curb, sobbing uncontrollably. Had I truly gone mad? In the memory of buying the pastry, had I actually bought poison or a bomb? To give myself a definitive answer, to avoid being destroyed by an unknown charge, I wiped my eyes, hailed a cab, and headed straight for the mental health ward. In the consultation room, facing an older, professional-looking doctor with graying hair, I fought hard to control my emotions. I recounted the events of the last two days as clearly and logically as possible: the neighbor’s spitting, my parents’ expulsion, the police warning. The doctor listened intently, occasionally making notes on his pad. When I finished, he adjusted his glasses and asked in a calm, even tone: “And the source of all this conflict, the box of pastry—may I see it?” I was a coiled spring of fear. I hesitated, clutching my phone. The doctor seemed to sense my terror and gave me a gentle smile. “I’m a doctor, Joanna. I’ve seen countless bizarre things.” “In this room, the patient is always the priority. You have nothing to fear from me.” His professionalism and compassion gave me the final push. I closed my eyes and handed him the phone, bracing myself to be dismissed like garbage. Time stretched on. Every second felt like an eternity. After a full minute, the doctor returned the phone. His expression hadn’t changed. He remained utterly calm, compassionate, and gentle. There was no anger, no disgust, not even a flicker of surprise. “Ms. Bishop, this box of pastry… you genuinely bought it as a gift for your boyfriend’s parents, correct?” he asked softly. I held my breath, nodding cautiously, worried this was another trap. “Yes. I bought it for them.” The expected explosion of rage never came. Instead, the doctor heavily circled something on his pad, looked up, and held a gaze I couldn’t quite decipher. “It seems my initial hypothesis was correct.” “Ms. Bishop, your cognitive function is unimpaired. Your mental state is completely sound.” Hearing the word “sound,” my tightly wound nerves snapped. Tears erupted from my eyes. I collapsed onto my knees, desperately clutching the doctor’s white coat, like he was the last piece of floating wreckage. “Doctor, if I’m not crazy, then what is it?” “Please tell me why everyone is trying to destroy me over this one box! You know the answer, don’t you? Please!” The doctor sighed, helped me up, and pointed to the phone on the desk, his voice tinged with a weary disappointment. “The answer, Joanna, is not complicated.” 5 “The key to all your problems lies within the pastry itself.” “Because what you bought… is precisely this box of pastry.” That utterly useless statement nearly made me faint. If he hadn’t been so calm moments before, I would have thrown the stethoscope at him. I gritted my teeth, fighting the urge to curse him. My voice shook with frustration. “Doctor, I paid three hundred dollars for this appointment, not to hear circular logic.” “I know I bought the pastry. The question is, why is it universally condemned? If this is some common knowledge taboo, why have I, a person who’s lived twenty-seven years, never heard of it?” The doctor was unperturbed by my outburst. He shook his head and sat back down. “No, Ms. Bishop, you’re still thinking in terms of taboo.” “Some things aren’t taboos; they are imposed narratives.” “In the current social climate, you don’t understand because you are standing in an information silo.” “Go home. Shift your focus from other people’s reactions to the source of this specific pastry. Pay attention to how it came to you.” “Perhaps you’ll realize that many things, from the very beginning, were simply a well-laid trap.” As I was ushered out of the consultation room, the doctor’s vague words were the only thing echoing in my head. Focus on the source? The source was a link Kevin sent me. He told me it was the most respectful gift in his hometown, and that I had to get this specific item, with this exact packaging, from that exact shop. On the ride home, I went over those details again and again. My phone vibrated—a message in the company chat. My supervisor tagged me: “Joanna, there’s an emergency meeting tomorrow morning. No matter what personal issues you have, you must be present.” Staring at the screen, I took a deep breath. Whatever the truth was, life had to continue. I wouldn’t be defeated. At least the doctor had given me a new perspective: this could be a trap. The next day, I arrived at the office with dark circles under my eyes. The atmosphere was palpably wrong. The usually noisy break room fell silent the moment I stepped past it. Several colleagues I considered friends immediately lowered their heads, pretending to work, avoiding eye contact. I walked to my desk. Before I could sit down, my supervisor, Beth, walked over with a file. She slapped the document onto my desk, her eyes filled with unconcealed contempt. Her voice was loud enough for the entire office to hear. “Joanna, the company is conducting a background review. Due to serious concerns regarding your personal character, we believe you are unsuitable for your current position.” “This is your termination letter. Sign it.” I shot to my feet. “Beth, I’ve worked diligently for three years and never made a mistake! Why are you firing me?” “Even if it’s a ‘character issue,’ you need proof! What exactly did I do?” Beth scoffed, pulling out her phone and shoving a picture in my face. “Proof? This is the proof! Sending an item like this as a gift to an elderly couple!” “The entire industry chat is buzzing about it. Our company cannot afford this kind of scandal!” “You have the nerve to ask? Kevin’s family was being kind! If it were me, I’d have had you arrested!” It was the screenshot of my pastry order. My blood turned to ice. Beyond Kevin and me, absolutely no one knew what the final order details looked like. Even Maya, who had since blocked me, only got the product link, not the full receipt with my name and address! The source of the leak was undeniable. The surrounding colleagues began whispering, their voices carrying. “I can’t believe it. She seemed so quiet, but she’s truly wicked on the inside.” “I know. I heard that cake is specifically used for hexes. I’d be afraid of crossing her.” “I’d be worried about bad karma just working with her. Get her out of here now.” Listening to the vicious remarks, a strange calm washed over me. A hex? Specifically for a curse? So that was the narrative they had all received. I didn’t argue further. I picked up a pen and signed the termination letter cleanly. If someone had gone to such lengths to destroy me, extending the siege to my workplace, this was far beyond a simple misunderstanding. This was an organized, full-spectrum ambush.

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When we were most in love, Ethan Cole told his boys that if his bride wasn’t me, they shouldn’t attend his wedding. Later, Ethan got married, and the bride wasn’t me. True to their word, his friends were nowhere to be found. After the ceremony, Ethan confronted them. But the one who always seemed to dislike me punched him in the face, eyes red with rage. “Ethan, people who betray true love deserve to die.” “So why did Sarah West have to die instead?” 1 On the day I died, Ethan Cole announced his wedding date with Lily Parker. Except for Ethan’s three best friends, everyone else sent their blessings. The ballroom was packed, romantic red roses paving the way from the entrance to the stage. It was even more extravagant than our engagement party. Lily held Ethan’s arm, looking a bit aggrieved. “Ethan, where are your friends?” “Do they not like me? They didn’t even come on such an important day.” Ethan glanced at his watch and dialed their numbers one by one. None connected, but plenty of spam calls came through. Frowning, Ethan blocked the spam numbers. Lily’s face fell. Ever since she appeared by Ethan’s side, his three best friends had been lukewarm towards her. She thought they would show up for an occasion like this. After all, they had been brothers for over a decade. I followed behind Ethan, scrutinizing Lily. How stupid was I not to notice the signs from the moment she appeared? Lily bit her lip, clutching her phone behind her back. The screen showed her chat with me. [Sarah, so what if it’s been ten years?] [My wedding with Ethan is in seven days. Come if you dare.] I lowered my eyes, my soul passing through her body. I really wanted to reply: I dare to come, but do you dare to see me? But I was dead. 2 The banquet ended. Surprisingly, Ethan didn’t take Lily home but drove her to her apartment. In the car, Lily grabbed Ethan’s collar, offering her lips. “Lily, I’ve been drinking.” “Be good, you don’t like the smell of alcohol.” Ethan pushed her away, showing no intention of going up with her. Lily clenched her fists, took a deep breath, and got out of the car. Before the door closed, her eyes reddened. “Ethan, the wedding in seven days will proceed as planned, right?” Men are suckers for vulnerability. In the end, Ethan followed Lily up to her apartment. I sat on the roof of the car watching their ambiguous tug-of-war. The summer night breeze couldn’t warm my cold soul. Weakness, coquetry. These were things Ethan used to despise. My gaze fell on their clasped hands. I was forced to follow Ethan into the elevator, all the way to Lily’s apartment. Ethan tossed his suit jacket onto the sofa. Lily couldn’t wait to hug him from behind. “Ethan, I’m scared.” Scared? I looked at Lily in surprise. Since I met her, I had never heard the word “scared” from her mouth. Ethan turned around, his unbuttoned shirt revealing his chest. Lily stood on tiptoes and kissed him. “Scared of what?” Ethan rubbed the top of her head, letting her hands roam. “Scared Sarah will change her mind.” “Scared you’ll suddenly leave me.” “Scared I’m not good enough for you.” Ethan chuckled, full of doting. “No, Sarah won’t change her mind.” 3 Ethan’s certainty dazed me. Back when we were most in love, Ethan was just as certain. He said, “No, I, Ethan Cole, will never fail Sarah West in this lifetime.” That day, I thought I would be happy forever. From middle school desk mates to high school sweethearts, from college romance to starting a business together—sixteen years. We got engaged when the company was on track. If nothing had happened, we would have gotten married this year. But in the sixteenth year of knowing each other, the tenth year of loving each other, Ethan changed. When did he start changing? Probably when he stopped texting me to ask how I was, when he couldn’t stop smiling at his phone sitting across from me, when he started texting Lily good morning and good night every day. Sincerity changes in an instant. So when we broke up, he took all the blame, protecting Lily well. I granted his wish and didn’t reveal the evidence of Lily’s provocations. Actually, when Lily first appeared, I didn’t think much of it. The daughter of a business partner, wanting to gain experience in our company. To close that deal, Ethan asked for my opinion. He suggested putting Lily in the secretary’s office, away from core business. I believed him. But Ethan made Lily his personal secretary for a whole year. And he tried every way to convince me to expand the market abroad, where I stayed for another year. When I returned, Lily was known as the future Mrs. Cole. I became Ethan’s ex-girlfriend. Before I could confront Ethan, he came to me. He pushed a resignation letter towards me, along with a share transfer agreement. “Sarah, we once said if we met someone who moved our hearts more, we would break up peacefully.” “You remember, right?” 4 When Ethan and Lily tumbled into the bedroom, I hid in the living room. Thank god. I could keep some distance from Ethan and didn’t have to witness those disgusting scenes. Even though Lily had already sent me their photos and videos. Ethan’s phone was on the living room table, buzzing non-stop. I leaned closer. The caller ID was mine. My mind exploded. I stood frozen in shock. My fingers trembled imperceptibly, and the scenes before my death played back frame by frame. Fear, helplessness. I remembered, I died very undignified. After agreeing to Ethan’s breakup conditions, I left the company. Lily found me, wanting to talk. What was there to talk about? I looked at her, but she sneered. “Aren’t you curious why I chose Ethan?” “Why?” I asked, following her lead. Lily took me to a coffee shop near the company. “I just wanted to see how deep Ethan’s love for you was. Turns out, not that deep.” I didn’t want to get entangled with her. But as soon as I walked out, I was dragged into a van by several men. The car bumped along, from the city to the suburbs, from day to night. Until the mountain wind howled, and twigs scratched my exposed legs and arms. “Did Lily send you?” I asked, forcing calmness. The four men in front of me looked haggard, eyes sunken, emitting a foul stench. They didn’t speak but rushed up, pressing me to the ground in the dark to vent, from night till dawn. Because I struggled fiercely, my head was smashed open. Blood flowed all over the ground. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing behind Ethan, watching him hold Lily’s hand, announcing the wedding date. Calculating the days, his wedding date was the seventh day after my death. 5 At 1 AM, Ethan walked out with a towel around his waist. He picked up the phone on the sofa, pupils shrinking when he saw the missed calls. I curled up on the sofa, trembling, my mind full of images before my death. Lily’s voice came from the bedroom: “Ethan, what’s wrong?” Ethan suppressed his emotions, deleted the call log, and walked towards Lily with the phone, pulling her into his arms. The smooth way he deleted the log reminded me of how he acted that year when I rarely came back to see him. When I first went abroad, Ethan would video call me all the time. He would complain about how busy the company was, acting coquettish, saying he wished I were there. I would handle documents while responding to him. “You don’t like me acting cute, why are you doing it yourself?” “Whining like a baby.” I thought I was just teasing, but his face turned pale instantly. Later I learned. When two people are together for a long time, they unconsciously start talking like each other. Early the next morning, Ethan came out of Lily’s apartment. Before leaving, he kissed Lily gently on the cheek. “Sleep a bit more, you don’t need to go to the company today.” I found it a bit funny. In the past, Ethan valued time the most. Rain or shine, he would drag me out of bed, afraid of delaying the day’s work. Even for dates, he wouldn’t wait a minute for me. Sixteen years, I got used to the habits he made me get used to. It turns out his habits could be broken, and the exception was only for a specific person.

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Five years after breaking up with Ethan Reed, the entire internet suddenly became obsessed with our expired romance. In the viral video, twenty-three-year-old me was wearing a heavy mascot costume, sweating profusely, yet smiling brightly at the camera: “Hi, thirty-three-year-old Maya Brooks! Are you on your honeymoon in the Maldives with Ethan right now? Working three jobs is exhausting! You better make sure Ethan pays you back for this, okay?” No. He never paid me back. Thirty-three-year-old Maya Brooks was left behind by Ethan Reed a long time ago. 1 In late June, a documentary suddenly started trending. The videos garnered immediate attention upon upload. The director was a man who had passed away ten years ago. After being diagnosed with terminal cancer, he quit his job. With a large backpack and a camera around his neck, he embarked on the final journey of his life. He recorded the people and things he encountered along the way, asking a friend to edit and upload the footage ten years later as his final memento to the world. After the first two episodes were released, netizens mostly expressed regret, praising his courage and open-mindedness in the face of death. But when the third episode dropped, the documentary suddenly exploded with unimaginable popularity. At the 13-minute and 22-second mark, an unexpected face appeared. — The current top A-list actor, Ethan Reed. Back then, he was still an extra in Hollywood, his face carrying a trace of nervousness and youth that hadn’t yet faded. However, the protagonist of this episode wasn’t him, but me, Maya Brooks, his girlfriend at the time. Twenty-three-year-old Maya, eyes full of unconcealed love, boastfully declared to the camera: “I guarantee Ethan will become a Best Actor one day! If not, I’ll walk the entire length of the Great Wall on my hands!” 2 I only realized Ethan and I had been trending all night when my agent, Jenna, called to wake me up. We were still trending at the top. I clicked on the viral video and was caught off guard by my ten-years-younger self. It took me a long time to dig out that memory from the dusty corners of my mind. It was the first year after graduation. I accompanied Ethan to Los Angeles while he chased his acting dreams. He acted; I worked odd jobs. While working, I met a man who claimed to be filming a documentary and asked if I was interested in being on camera. Of course, I wasn’t. But he acted like he didn’t hear me and kept following me around. I couldn’t get rid of him. Since he just stood aside holding his camera and didn’t interfere with my work, I eventually stopped caring and let him do whatever he wanted. Jenna asked if I needed to contact the platform to handle it. I thought for a moment and shook my head. “No need. It’s free publicity.” I scrolled through the comments curiously, expecting them to curse me like they did five years ago, calling me a maggot in a cesspool. Unexpectedly, the comments were heading in a strange direction. [Help, can I say this? Why do I feel like I ship them?] [You’re not alone.] [It’s weird, but hard not to ship, right? Did you see the look in Maya’s eyes?] [Same. I haven’t seen such pure, love-filled eyes in a long time. It reminds me of the days before I became cynical.] [Maya worked three jobs a day for Ethan back then! Oh my god, I used to curse her! Now… sigh, I don’t know what to say.] [Regardless of the ending, true love is rare.] Out of curiosity, I clicked on the video again. I wanted to see what kind of earth-shattering look and behavior I had back then that could make them flip their attitude 180 degrees compared to five years ago. Spanning ten years. Under the erosion and destruction of time, my memory of the past wasn’t very clear. But as they said, in the video, twenty-three-year-old Maya’s unconcealed love for Ethan was indeed so passionate that it was hard not to be moved. 3 When Ethan was struggling in Hollywood, I worked three jobs a day. I got up at 3:30 AM, went to help at a diner down the street at 4:00 AM, and finished my first shift at 10:30 AM. I went home to sleep for an hour, then put on a mascot suit at 12:00 PM to hand out flyers. Handing out flyers in the summer was torture. It was stuffy and hot inside the suit, and I had to watch out for naughty kids kicking me. After standing for two hours, I was soaked in sweat. At 2:30 PM, I went to work at a coffee shop. It was a bit far from our rental apartment, so I usually went to a nearby public shower for a quick wash before heading to the shop. Five dollars per person. After getting familiar with the owner, I could shower for a month for a hundred bucks. I got off work at 10:00 PM. I had an hour break for dinner in between, and after closing, I had to clean up for about half an hour. Around 11:00 PM, I picked up Ethan from the set. The continuous rotation all day was mentally and physically exhausting. The man filming me couldn’t keep up twice. He rested for two days and finally persisted until the end on the third try. He collapsed on the curb, exhausted, asking me: “Little girl, how do you keep this up? Aren’t you tired?” Tired! But I had no choice. Even with three jobs and Ethan’s meager pay from acting, we barely scraped together enough for rent and daily expenses. And most importantly— In the video, I leaned against the wall, listening to the man’s chatter with my eyes closed. Dark circles covered half my face, and my whole body exuded indescribable exhaustion. But in the next second, hearing something, I opened my eyes in surprise. The light that suddenly lit up in my eyes instantly dispelled the fatigue, and I rushed into Ethan’s arms like a flower suddenly blooming with life. —Most importantly, I loved Ethan, regardless of the hardship. For him, I fell out with my family, gave up everything arranged for me, and accompanied him to a strange place to strive alone. Love makes people blind. 4 It was probably Ethan’s first time seeing the man filming me. He shielded me behind him, looking warily. I explained the situation briefly. After listening, he smiled helplessly and pinched my cheek. “How many times have I told you not to be so defenseless against strangers? Wasn’t being scammed out of seven hundred bucks by that grandma with the ‘limp’ enough?” I giggled and begged for mercy, promising not to do it again. The man stood aside filming quietly, finally unable to hold back a cough. The camera shook. After Ethan appeared, he acted like a real director, interviewing us in front of the camera. The first few questions were irrelevant, about the future, work, and the industry. Ethan and I answered casually. Until finally, the man looked at Ethan and made an inexplicable comment. “You’re really handsome!” While I was confused by his sudden remark, he turned to me and suddenly asked: “With such an outstandingly handsome boyfriend, Miss Brooks, are you worried he’ll be tempted by various temptations in the industry? Are you sure he’ll always love you?” This question was intrusive and sharp. I paused, then laughed as if I heard a joke, linking arms with Ethan. My eyes curved with confident certainty. “Not worried. And I’m sure Ethan will always love me.” I looked at Ethan, cleared my throat dramatically, lifted my chin, and held out my hand to him. “Come on, future Best Actor Reed. Someone questions your love now; you have to prove them wrong.” Ethan was used to my occasional theatrics. He looked at me gently, his eyes full of tenderness. He got down on one knee, held my hand, and under my shocked gaze, put a silver ring on my finger. “That’s right. Ethan Reed will love Maya Brooks forever.” “So, Miss Maya Brooks, will you marry me?” I covered my mouth in disbelief, looking at the man behind the camera who was smiling, not surprised at all. I realized this was a plan they had plotted long ago. Overwhelmed by the huge surprise, I pouted, my eyes instantly red, and choked out: “I d—” I closed the video and got up to wash. When I clicked on the comment section again, the wind had quietly changed, and two groups of people were arguing fiercely. [Who are these people shipping them? Ethan is happily dating Chloe Evans now! Shipping him with his ex? Are you sick? Leave the couple alone!] [Ship, ship, ship. When their relationship was exposed back then, Maya was cursed out as a nobody girlfriend. Where were you then? Now you’re crying at the grave?] [Do I have extra memories? Why are people asking for them to get back together? Did you forget they broke up because Maya’s video of sleeping with a big director was exposed? That breakup was ugly. Maya was roasted to death.] [Finally someone mentioned it. Maya, stop buying trending topics, okay? Don’t you know what rotten things you did back then? Stop mooching off our brother. He’s happy with Best Actress Evans now. If you’re that desperate for money and fame, go sell yourself. You should be familiar with that job.] As discussions surged, the popularity brought by the documentary continued to climb. It was the first time I stayed on the trending list for so long, even longer than five years ago. Just then, Chloe Evans posted on Weibo/Twitter. No caption, just a simple photo. In the photo, she leaned into Ethan’s arms with a bright smile, happily showing off a diamond ring on her ring finger. In the fifth year of their relationship, Ethan proposed to her. 5 Ethan and Chloe’s history began with the TV drama that made Ethan famous. At twenty-four, he exploded in popularity playing the tragic second male lead in the blockbuster fantasy drama Ascension, directed by Director Zheng. It was a meteoric rise. The next year, he collaborated with Chloe, who played the female lead, in a sweet romance drama. Their CP (couple pairing) fans grew rapidly. Chloe’s agency, Skyward Entertainment, extended an olive branch to Ethan, on the condition that he cooperate in hyping their CP. Ethan refused. When the “Ethan-Chloe” ship was at its peak, he announced the existence of me, his non-celebrity girlfriend. He was responsible, and he truly loved me then. Even though after the announcement, under Skyward’s intentional suppression, he had no work for nearly a year, and the heat from Ascension rapidly dissipated. Facing my guilt, he just hugged me nonchalantly. “Don’t say sorry, Maya. I love you, so I won’t let you suffer any grievance. This is my own choice; you don’t need to feel guilty.” I felt a sting in my nose. At twenty-seven, Ethan accepted Chloe’s invitation and collaborated for the third time in the movie Sunset. At twenty-eight, during the reshoots for the movie, a video of Director Zheng and me entering and leaving a hotel together was exposed by paparazzi. Under the internet-wide blackout, my breakup with Ethan was ugly. At twenty-nine, he and Chloe won Best Actor and Best Actress at the Golden Crane Awards with Sunset. While making a beautiful comeback, Ethan announced his relationship with Chloe at the ceremony. CP fans went wild. Solo fans were tolerant of this new sister-in-law. After all, with me as a negative example, Chloe was obviously much better. After that, their careers and relationship developed steadily. One became a three-time Best Actor, the other a top A-list actress. Five years of dating, but no news of marriage. Rumors of their breakup surfaced occasionally, only to be blasted by CP fans every time. And this time, CP fans were celebrating like it was New Year’s. [Clowns. Those who ship the ex are clowns just like Maya. See? Face slapped? Our couple is fine and about to upgrade to legal spouses. Those feeling sorry for a cheating tramp, protect your family registry. Karma might leave you with no pages left.] [Boo hoo, so happy! You must stay together forever! leave the shameless trash floating up to us to handle!] Soon, the video of Director Zheng and me from five years ago was dug up and flogged repeatedly. My social media page was flooded with netizens, insults and insults no less than back then. I didn’t care much, just thankful again that Director Zheng and his wife didn’t have social media accounts, so this filth couldn’t dirty their eyes. I turned off my phone and continued working as if nothing happened. I had a tough battle to fight in a few days.

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My mother, Adriana, was breathtakingly beautiful, but everyone in the forgotten town of Hickory Creek hated her. Every night, a different man slipped into her bed, and every morning, he would shuffle out looking perfectly satisfied. They called her a tramp, a slut, saying only a simpleton like my father, Roy Tucker, would keep her. Dad would even buy her pretty dresses and cheap jewelry, dressing her up like a princess for the viewing. But I knew the truth. Every time, those men would hand Dad a wad of bills and tell him she was worth the price. I hated her. I kept my distance, never seeking comfort. I only felt a cold, hard disgust for the woman who let filth touch her. It wasn’t until a truly repulsive beggar—a man who looked like dirt and smelled of rot—shuffled out of her room and handed Dad a single, crumpled bill that a calculated thought hardened in my mind: If she was going to sell herself, why not help Dad sell her for a fortune? … 1 The forced, triumphant smile vanished from Dad’s face the moment the beggar was out of sight. He stormed into the room and the sound of the slap was dull, sickening. “You worthless bitch! That’s all you pulled in? And you still have the nerve to just lie there!” He kicked the mattress. “Today is Christmas Eve. Get up and go make me a holiday dinner.” Mom lay on the stained sheet, her legs still splayed. She was naked, her pale skin a roadmap of bruises and purple welts. Her breasts were covered in fresh, bloody bite marks. She just stared at the ceiling, not crying, not moving—her eyes empty, wide, and entirely blank. As he stomped out, Dad spat over his shoulder. “Goddamn slut. You get less valuable every time.” I watched her rise, the silence in her movements more disturbing than any scream. She went to the sink, ran the cold water, and washed the evidence of the last man off her body before pulling on a clean, threadbare shirt. Then she walked, stiff-backed, to the kitchen. I didn’t follow. Instead, I went out to the cluster of rusted trailers we called a village. The men in Hickory Creek always smirked when they saw me. “Hey, Dusty,” they’d call me—a name that meant ‘the neglected one’ here. “Is your mama busy tonight? God, her legs are something else.” “Hey, why don’t you drop your pants and let old Butch see if you’re as pale as your mom.” In response, I’d grab a fistful of sharp gravel and hurl it at them, earning their loud, delighted laughter. The women here loathed my mother, gathering daily to trash-talk the beautiful, broken woman. But the men were worse. Their eyes, when they spoke of her, were like a pair of greedy, oily snakes. They all knew one thing, though: I hated my mother, and the subject of her made me snap. That evening, a couple of Dad’s regular card buddies—men with yellow teeth and cheap beer breath—arrived. They settled down, dealing cards and letting their eyes roam the trailer. “Hey, Roy,” one of them asked, looking towards the kitchen. “Where’s Adriana?” Dad took a drag from his cigarette, his eyes squinting against the smoke. “She’s cooking. When we’re done dealing, we can eat.” A man named Mitch gave a leering grin and a thumbs-up. “Man, Roy, you got it made. A wife as beautiful as a movie star, who’s good for a man and brings in the cash.” Another added, “And Dusty, too. Most girls are close to their moms, but you and your old man are tight. She’ll be a good little thing when she grows up.” The praise made Dad puff out his chest. His porcine face wobbled with mirth. “Damn right. You take a look at the women in this house, and they’re both nothing without me.” He slammed his hand on the table. “I tell them east, they don’t go west. They’re more obedient than old man Floyd’s mutt.” They roared with laughter. Floyd’s dog was a filthy, abused animal. The smell of food wafted in, and I went to the kitchen to help carry the dishes. The rule in our trailer—an unspoken law in this whole village—was that women did not sit at the table. They ate in the kitchen, hidden away. In our house, it was worse: Mom and I had to squat with our bowls at Dad’s feet, ready to serve him. I set plate after plate on the table. The last pot was heavy, and as I set it down, I accidentally knocked the small charcoal brazier underneath. The tablecloth immediately caught fire. Mom ran over, grabbing a damp towel and smothering the small flame. It was out in seconds. But Dad, who had just finished his hand, saw her. He lunged, grabbing a handful of her hair. He slammed her head down onto the table with a sickening thud. A grotesque lump immediately swelled on her pristine forehead. “Who the hell said you could stand at the damn table? You trying to jinx my luck on Christmas Eve, you curse!” 2 One hand still twisted in her hair, Dad used his other hand to furiously strike her face. Her cheeks quickly swelled, and a thin line of blood ran from the corner of her mouth. Mom never fought back. She never cried. She was a beautiful, compliant mannequin, silently enduring every horror. She’d be subjected to unspeakable things all night, but every morning, she’d meticulously clean herself up and dress as if nothing had happened. That’s why the women of Hickory Creek called her a natural whore, saying she was the one who craved the men, that she’d cheat on Dad even if he didn’t sell her out. I knew that wasn’t true. Once, she had tried to run. Years ago. She managed to knock out the man in her bed, scoop up my tiny body, and tear through the village in the dark. The wind had whipped her hair around her face—a desperate, tangible vision of hope. The mud of the path was treacherous, and she trembled with effort. I could hear the frantic drumming of her heart. She made it almost to the highway before two men blocked the path. Their voices were wet with lust as they appraised her. “Look at that, the prettiest thing in a ten-mile radius. Even running away, she’s a sight.” It turned out Dad slept soundly and traveled without worry because he’d already made a deal with the village: Anyone who found her trying to escape would be rewarded with a free pass. In the filthy dirt patch behind a rusted-out shed, the two men descended on her like wolves. Mom let out a high, tortured scream, beating the air with her arms. It was the only time she ever actively fought them, but her frantic struggle was only to keep them from letting me see. But no one cares about a toy’s feelings. The moment she tried to leave, her hope became a sick source of entertainment for her captors. That night was the moment I started to hate her, or perhaps, the moment I felt compelled to act like I did. Now, Mitch and Butch were trying to intervene. “Come on, Roy, easy, man. She didn’t mean it.” “It’s Christmas Eve, let’s eat.” Dad finally released her, a few strands of her chestnut hair still wrapped around his fist. He thrust his foot out and shoved her to the ground. “You’re gonna kneel right there and serve us. My hand was bad tonight, and it’s all your fault, you rotten slut.” Without a word, Mom dropped to her knees. She ladled soup, served the pot roast, and listened to their crude, slurred jokes. “Look at that, Roy. You really trained her. I’d wake up laughing if I had a woman like that.” Dad reveled in the compliments. He’d always been that way, never bothering to pretend to be a decent person. Since I could remember, he did nothing but drink and gamble. I’d heard he was a nobody in this village until he married Mom, and then, suddenly, men started seeking his company—all for the chance to take advantage of her. He didn’t care why they praised him; he just loved the feeling of being respected, of being chased. When the men finished the food, they weren’t ready to leave. I knew what that meant. This night of family cheer was about to become Mom’s night of hell. 3 Sure enough, Dad dragged Mom into the back bedroom—the one we all called “The Room”—and one of the men, Butch, followed her inside immediately. Before long, Mom’s screams, sharp and frantic, tore through the winter air. I’d heard them a hundred times, but they still made my body seize up with a cold, terrifying shake. Outside, the men were laughing. Her pain was their pleasure. “Damn, Butch is an animal! Listen to her, Roy, she must be loving it in there!” “You’re a lucky bastard, Roy.” They snickered, their eyes trying to bore holes through the thin curtain over the window. I wanted to leave. I knew she didn’t want me to hear this. “Dad, I’m going to bed.” He hit me hard across the ear. “Go to sleep? I’m not sleeping, you little brat. You wait right here until they’re all gone.” I pressed my throbbing ear and sat down on the stoop of the porch. Eventually, Butch emerged, adjusting his pants. “Whew. That was damn good, Roy.” Dad impatiently demanded the money. Butch pulled out a wad of bills and handed them over, his tone laced with mockery. “Easy, Roy. You’ll get what’s coming to you.” Then, the next man, Mitch, stumbled eagerly inside. They continued the rotation, one leaving, one entering, stretching the night out into a seemingly endless expanse of suffering. Mom’s cries shifted from frantic screams to hoarse, exhausted gasps, and finally, to nothing but muffled whimpers. Each man who left handed Dad the required amount, their faces satisfied and slick with sweat. The last one emerged, looking regretful that it was over. “Roy, you lost a lot of cash at the table tonight, right?” Dad was busy counting the money, not looking up. “Don’t worry, I won’t owe you.” The man gave a sleazy grin. “That’s not what I mean, Roy. One time wasn’t enough for me.” He looked at the remaining men. “How about we do a group deal? We all go in together, and we call your debt to us settled.” Dad looked up, his eyes lighting up with greed. He looked at the others. They immediately agreed, their eyes glowing like famished wolves. Together, the three remaining men stormed into The Room. This time, Mom did not make a single sound. The sky was beginning to lighten when the wolf pack emerged, looking red-faced and utterly satisfied. They finally left. Dad yawned, ready for bed. He muttered as he walked past me, “Worthless hag. You’re getting less valuable by the month.” He looked at me, his eyes unfocused. “Dusty, go check on your mother.” My head throbbed from the night-long vigil. I opened the door. The stench hit me first—a thick, nauseating smell that made me gag. Mom was unconscious on the floor, covered in a sickening mix of fluids. Blood was everywhere, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from. I grabbed a basin of ice-cold water and a rag, wiping her body clean, piece by piece. She was covered in fresh red marks, hideous welts, and angry, open wounds. There wasn’t a single clean spot on her body. Though she was passed out, her brow furrowed in a painful, agonizing spasm every time I touched her. I knew, with cold certainty, that if this continued, she wasn’t going to last much longer. 4 The next day, Mom woke up and tried to carry on as if nothing had happened. She stood in front of the broken mirror, trying to fix her hair. But her swollen face and the brutal purple bags under her eyes meant no amount of effort could hide the damage. We were eating when a man—a scruffy neighbor named Mikey—burst in, looking desperate. “Roy, now’s the time! My old lady went to her mother’s. I gotta go back before she gets home.” Mom could be called upon at any moment. These men always had wives, and they couldn’t risk being seen near our trailer. Dad accepted the cash and, grinning, yanked Mom off the floor. Mikey followed her eagerly into The Room and the door slammed shut. Dad beckoned me over to finish waiting on him. He seemed to be in a great mood. He even tossed a chunk of meat into my bowl on the ground. Normally, meat was for him alone. He’d occasionally ‘reward’ me with a piece, but Mom never got anything. This time, however, Mikey came flying out of the room just moments later, his face contorted in rage. “Roy Tucker, you damn well cheated me! That whore is stinking! You rotten liar, Roy. Her pussy reeks—she’s got some kind of disease! Give me my money back!” Dad slammed his fist on the table. “Bullshit! She was fine yesterday!” They argued until they finally threw the door open and looked inside. Sure enough, a horrifying yellow discharge was visible on Mom’s legs. Dad was forced to return the money. Mikey stormed out, cursing the whole way. As soon as the door shut, Dad grabbed a heavy switch from the yard and began whipping Mom. He had a powerful arm. The thin branch whistled as it struck her already mangled body, raising fresh red tracks over old purple bruises. “You worthless slut! When did you get this disease?” he roared, the fear of contamination turning into fury. “Look how filthy you are! You’re disgusting! No decent man would touch you now! You eat my food, you live in my house—and now you can’t even make me money! What good are you to me?” Mom was a ragdoll. She screamed in agony, thrashing and writhing on the bed. I curled up in the corner. Tears welled in my eyes, and I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. He kept hitting her until she passed out, only to be jolted back awake by the next blow. Dad vented his rage until his own arm was tired and shaking. He threw the switch down, his eyes murderous. “You piece of trash! How am I supposed to gamble now?” He turned to leave, but his eyes fell on me, huddled in the corner. Beneath the layers of dirt and fear, my features—small, thin, and currently wet with tears—were undeniably similar to my mother’s. A faint, almost-womanly curve was beginning to show on my frame. Suddenly, he smiled. “Dusty,” he said slowly, his voice changing entirely. “Damn, I never noticed. You’re actually pretty.” He had always insisted I stay dirty, wear the ugliest clothes, and keep my face grubby. I had often resented it, wondering why she got to be a princess while I was a scruffy peasant. Now, I understood. Dad walked over, stroked my hair, and chuckled. “Well, I guess raising you wasn’t a total waste after all.” The next few days passed without any strangers coming to the trailer. Dad grew more and more volatile, returning home daily to give Mom a brutal beating. I knew his money was running out. Mom couldn’t get out of bed, so I was left to do all the work. Today, I was serving Dad his cheap whiskey and cigarettes. He was ranting, calling Mom a worthless cripple who couldn’t earn her keep. I lit his cigarette and handed it to him. I leaned in, speaking in a low, conspiratorial voice. “Dad, I think you’re losing money.” He grunted, drinking deep. “Mom is so beautiful. Since you have to sell her,” I said, trying not to choke on the word, “why are you selling her cheap?”

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After losing a bet, I was forced to confess to the school’s ice-cold genius. [Text: “Need a girlfriend? I promise I’m a good girl.”] A second later, I was blocked. Just as I was about to give up in despair, I stumbled upon him choking himself, veins popping on his forehead. He was arguing with himself, switching between cold and manic: “Let go. Get a grip, man!” “Get a grip? You blocked my girlfriend! I’ll kill you!” Me: …Girlfriend? Me? Suddenly, a stream of floating comments appeared before my eyes: [OMG! It’s dual personalities! We’re saved!] [Hehe, does this mean the golden retriever personality will cook while getting jealous of himself?] [Lucky girl! Two for the price of one…] Me: ??? 1 [Text: “Need a girlfriend? I promise I’m a good girl.”] Staring at the red exclamation mark indicating a failed message, my world collapsed. The great Academic God, Caleb Thorne, minoring in mood swings? Two minutes ago, he added me! [Text: “How should I catch you? A sack or sweet talk?”] Looking at that blatant flirtation now, the irony was thick. Why did I think he’d be interested in a chubby, plain girl like me? But did he have to prank me? Tears pricked my eyes. I couldn’t help but curse him out: [Text: “I don’t like perverts who wear pink leopard-print boxers anyway!”] If it wasn’t for his weird fetish, I wouldn’t have lost the bet in the first place. I wanted to keep typing, but I realized the message had gone through. The embarrassment was physically painful. I curled my toes. Did he block me by accident? I tried to save it: [Text: “I wasn’t finished! I meant I don’t like perverts, I only like you.”] Ugh… That message bounced back with a red exclamation mark. My roommates burst out laughing. “I told you! With eyes like that, there’s no way he’s blind.” “Mia, just getting him to notice you enough to block you is a victory over 99% of the girls here.” “It was just a joke anyway. You didn’t actually think Caleb would like you, right?” I forced a bitter smile and waved my hands. “Of course not.” But my chest felt like it was stuffed with wet cotton. I couldn’t breathe. If he didn’t like me, he could have just ignored me. Why toy with me? Is being fat and ugly a sin? I hid in a tree deep in the campus woods to cry. Suddenly, I heard a violent argument. I wiped my eyes and looked down. Caleb Thorne was gritting his teeth, choking his own neck, veins bulging on his forehead. He slammed himself against the tree trunk, switching between icy cold and manic rage: “Let go! Get a grip, man!” “Get a grip? You blocked my girlfriend! I’ll kill you!” Me: …Girlfriend? I pointed a finger at myself. “Me?” Suddenly, floating comments appeared in my vision like a Twitch stream: [OMG! It’s dual personalities! We’re saved!] [Hehe, does this mean the golden retriever personality will cook while getting jealous of himself?] [Lucky girl! Two for the price of one…] Me: ??? Frozen, I watched as Caleb looked up. 2 Startled by his sharp gaze, I panicked and grabbed two branches to hide my face. The comments popped up again: [Girl, stop hiding! He already saw you. Your face is redder than a stop sign.] [Uh oh, his eyes changed again! Murderous intent!] [Doomed. The two personalities disagree. Run, girl!] I stiffened. I looked down nervously. Our eyes met. His gaze was deep, like a black hole threatening to swallow me. I panicked. I was about to yell “I’m blind!”, but then his eyes changed. They became clear, shy, and full of obvious affection. Yay! The negotiable personality! I smiled and was about to wave, but before I could speak, his expression turned cold and mocking again. Back and forth. My face mirrored his, switching between fear and smiles until my muscles ached. I was afraid his split personality was contagious! Suddenly, Caleb grabbed his own collar and growled: “I’m going on a date with my girlfriend. Don’t scare her again. Get lost!” Then, one of his hands slowly, painfully pried the other hand off: “Why should I?” “Why don’t you ask her whose girlfriend she wants to be?” Me: “…” Is there a difference? The comments went wild: [Seen guys fight for a girl, never seen a guy fight himself. Surprise! The other man is you.] [How about this: try one personality for a few days, then the other. Pick the best one. Our girl is fair.] [Just live happily as a throuple. 1v2 is the optimal solution.] Me: “?” I’ve heard of people awakening systems, but usually, the comments give helpful advice. Why are mine just instigating chaos? Before I could process it, Caleb was eager to climb the tree. “Babe, don’t be scared! I’m coming to save you! I’ll show you what boyfriend material looks like!” But the next second, he leaned lazily against the tree, arms crossed. “Go ahead. Let’s see you save her.” Then he punched himself in the face and fell to the ground. “Give me back my body! If you stop me from saving her, I’ll kill you!” “Kill me then.” He wiped the blood from his lip, forcing a sinister smile. “If I die, you disappear too. Then your ‘babe’ will be with another man. They’ll hold hands, kiss, sleep together…” Caleb’s words made me overheat. “Enough!” I shouted in embarrassment. In my agitation, I didn’t notice I had scooted onto a thin branch. Snap. The branch broke. “Ahhh!” I fell. 3 The pain I expected never came. I tentatively touched what was underneath me. Hm, soft. Touch again. Whoa, hard. The comments doubled their scrolling speed: [This belongs on AO3, not here.] [Look at his dazed eyes. He says no, but his body says yes.] [So who saved her? And who did she just grope?] [Judging by the way he dove to cushion her fall, it must be…] “Done touching?” Caleb’s voice came from below. Three parts cold, seven parts strained. I shivered. That was the Caleb who didn’t like me. Ignoring the comments, I scrambled up and bowed repeatedly. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I’m heavy. Even though the tree wasn’t high, I must have hurt him. His hand stayed on his chest, brows furrowed. “Thank you for saving me. But don’t do that again. It’s dangerous.” “I have lots of padding, it doesn’t hurt when I fall—ahhh!” Caleb reached out and pinched my cheek. “Hurt?” I rubbed my cheek and nodded. “Yes.” He wanted to say more, but his hand suddenly clamped around his own throat. “You touched her! I didn’t even dare, how dare you?” He let out a muffled groan. Gritted his teeth. As if fighting a powerful force, he slowly moved his hand toward my face. “I—will—touch!” “You—want—to—die!” Caleb’s bright eyes turned dark. One hand choked himself, the other stubbornly reached for my face. Seeing him get closer, I panicked and dodged to the side. But I tripped on a rock. Before I fell, I grabbed at anything I could find. I didn’t have time to choose. I pulled Caleb’s pants down. White legs flashed before my eyes. The atmosphere froze instantly. Even the comments went silent for a moment before exploding: [His underwear is so flashy! Tsk tsk, surprised he found his size.] [Look at the puppy’s blank face. Both of them are stunned. Didn’t know our girl was so bold.] [Go, girl! Besides being handsome, he has a lot of hidden treasures waiting to be discovered.] My face was burning red. I scrambled up to apologize. I looked up into that expanse of pink leopard print and lost my voice. I lowered my head and ran for my life. 4 I couldn’t sleep. The comments were still scrolling. From the fragments of information, I pieced together that this world is a romance novel. Caleb is the male lead. The female lead… Yes, it’s me! My heart pounded. [Look at her smile! She’s definitely thinking about the puppy.] [Crush turned reality. If I were her, I’d wake up laughing.] [Her face is red. Is she thinking about the… hehehe…] I covered my hot cheeks, breathing fast. I couldn’t get the image of Caleb in those pink leopard boxers out of my head. He was… kind of cute. I hid under the blanket. But I swore I’d seen that pattern somewhere before. Outside, rain started to fall. My memory rewound to the day I first met Caleb. It was raining, and I was the only one in our dorm with an umbrella. But as soon as I opened it, my roommates snatched it. They squeezed under it, laughing like it was their right. “Mia, this umbrella is perfect for the three of us. You can let us have it.” “You’re so sturdy, a little rain won’t hurt.” “Think of it as a weight loss sauna. You’ll thank us.” They walked away without waiting for an answer. The rain got heavier. I jogged after them to get my umbrella back. I stepped in a puddle and twisted my ankle, falling into the mud. Mud splashed everywhere. People walked around me with looks of disgust. My roommates were long gone. I tried to stand up, but the pain was blinding. I fell back down. Pain and humiliation overwhelmed me. I started to cry. Just as I couldn’t tell rain from tears anymore, the rain stopped over my head. A pair of white shoes appeared. Then, Caleb’s face—so handsome it made my heart skip—leaned in close. “Biomechanical studies prove that when body mass distribution exceeds the golden ratio of 0.618, the torque on the ankle joint becomes pathological. With a BMI over 28, you not only increase joint stress but also cardiovascular risk by 47%.” Caleb’s cold voice cut through the rain. That was the last thing he said to me that day. Thinking of that, my excitement vanished. I deflated like a balloon. I missed the sunnier personality. If only he were the real Caleb. Too bad. I poked my belly fat. Male lead and female lead? So what? Fat blocks the protagonist’s halo. After much thought. I decided— Diet! 5 The next morning, I swapped meat buns for veggie ones. And five for two. My roommate looked surprised, then sneered. “Mia, Caleb really hurt you, huh? Dieting now?” “You don’t think losing weight will make him like you, do you?” “Didn’t you hear? He rejected the school beauty. You think you have a shot?” Her mockery stabbed me like a knife. This wasn’t my first diet. But every time, their teasing made me lose confidence, and I gave up. Just like liking Caleb. I never dared to let anyone know. I only watched from afar. Using the bet was the only way I could muster the courage. They wanted to see me fail. But I just wanted to be closer to him, even as a joke. But once you get a taste, you get greedy, right? I clenched my fist to retort. Ding. My phone buzzed. Caleb: [AHHHH sorry babe I just saw this!] Caleb: [Babe, that message was for me, right? Only for me, right? Just for me, right?] My heart raced. My face heated up. I forgot I sent Caleb a “Goodnight” sticker before bed. I didn’t expect a reply. I just wanted to see if I was still blocked. Silence all night made me think he wouldn’t respond. But he… The comments popped up out of nowhere: [Don’t be mad, girl. He didn’t reply last night, but he stared at your chat for hours.] [The other personality usually hides. If the main hadn’t deleted you, he wouldn’t have exploded.] [Comfort the puppy! He’s crazy enough to kill himself!] I woke up and started typing. Ding ding ding. Messages interrupted me. Caleb: [Remember when I pinched your cheek and asked if it hurt? I wanted to tell you to always be honest with yourself.] Caleb: [Now, tell me honestly. You were thinking of me when you sent that, right?] Me: “…?” Changed personalities? Caleb: [Screenshot (“Need a girlfriend? I promise I’m a good girl.”)] Caleb: [Not anymore, good girlfriend.] My eyes widened in shock. Before I could react, more messages came. Caleb: [Babe, don’t believe him. He’s not me. He’s just using you to provoke me.] Caleb: [We already agreed you’re my girlfriend. You’re mine! Mine! Don’t talk to him!] Face: completely red. I felt like I was in a furnace. Sweating. Profusely. 6 Thinking about how to reply to Caleb made me distracted all morning. I didn’t even hear the bell. Until someone nudged my elbow. I pretended to listen to the lecture. “Calling your name,” a classmate whispered. I stood up abruptly. “Okay, Mia Smith. Courageous. You’ll play the Princess.” Me: “?” What? Princess? Laughter erupted. Everyone was looking at me. Their eyes full of mockery made me feel like a joke. I realized I’d been played. [The guy playing the Prince is a creep who likes to grope girls. Don’t do it!] [Yeah, don’t go. Or the male lead will get expelled for beating him up to protect you.] My heart sank. I raised my hand to explain the misunderstanding. But my roommates rushed over and covered my mouth, holding me down. I watched the drama club president leave after giving instructions. I was furious. When they let go, I pushed them hard. “Am I not good to you?” “Why treat me like this?” They stole my face wash, my lotion. They always picked expensive places for dinner, and I always paid. They said they’d Venmo me later, but never did. My parents said meeting people is fate, don’t be petty. So I paid because I could afford it. But they were getting worse. And this time it involved Caleb. I wouldn’t take it anymore. “Are you crazy, Mia?” They stumbled back, and seeing the crowd gather, they fell on purpose. Looking pathetic and innocent. “Mia, we just saw you were sad about Caleb rejecting you. We wanted you to play the Princess to cheer up.” “Yeah, maybe you’ll meet other guys. Maybe you’ll find love.” The crowd gasped, whispering among themselves, faces full of disgust. “Did I hear right? A pig wants to date a god? Enough.” “I declare this the worst smear campaign against Caleb ever.” I wanted to stomp my feet. The frustration swelled in my chest until it hurt. My fists turned white. “Who said I got rejected?” “And which eye saw me sad?” “Stop lying, Mia. Your bed shook all night. If you weren’t crying, were you doing something unspeakable?” Laughter erupted again. Some guys looked at me with dirty eyes. My eyes burned. Tears blurred my vision. “I was laughing! Laughing, you idiots!” “Caleb accepted my confession!”

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After being reclaimed by my billionaire parents, I gained a naive and romantic younger sister. She would show me photos of her fiancé and invite me to the mall to pick out a birthday gift for him. She knew I used to be a photographer and begged me to be her wedding photographer. She would also be distressed because her fiancé had a three-year-old daughter. She thought of me again, hugging my arm and begging: “Sister, you’ve given birth before, teach me how to get along with children.” But she led the child into the house, turned and went upstairs. I stood frozen in place, but the little girl hugged me. Looking up with her little face, tears in her eyes: “Mommy, you’re back… Why didn’t you come find me and Daddy?” Chapter 1 On my twenty-eighth birthday, I was cooking instant ramen in my rental apartment. A group of well-dressed people knocked on my door. The woman leading them reached out and gathered me into her arms. Emitting the scent of expensive perfume, tearfully said: “Child, I am Mom.” At that time I thought, which short drama crew got the wrong set. But looking up, saw the middle-aged man standing behind her. Brain reacted for a moment. I’ve seen this person, in the newspaper, a quite famous entrepreneur. He also looked like he wanted to cry but couldn’t. More exaggerated was behind him. A dressed up bright young girl, holding a tissue不知在眼尾沾什么 (dabbing something at the corner of her eye – maybe “wiping away nonexistent tears”?), sobbing: “Sister, you suffered, come home with us.” I thought about it. Just lost my job, for the sake of that face that was on the newspaper, going with them is also okay. After a short rest. They took me from a small town in Ohio, to a paper drunk gold mesmerizing metropolis like New York City. Mr. Dad had the steady characteristic of old-school entrepreneurs, not speaking unless necessary. Ms. Mom was still imagining how much bitterness I ate these years, only tearing up not speaking. Only Miss Sister, twittering like a lively little sparrow. “Sister, you’ve never been to this city before right? Here has many rare goods you haven’t seen or eaten…” I smiled: “Been here.” Chapter 2 Tiffany’s smile on her face stiffened: “Sister… when did you come ah?” I looked out the car window: “Years ago matter, was young then, dated a local boyfriend.” “Then why broke up ne?” “Not suitable.” “Didn’t think about getting back together ma?” I turned my head, saw Tiffany’s face full of concern, wanted to laugh a bit: “Breakup was quite ugly.” Tiffany secretly breathed a sigh of relief, comforted me: “Good men are plenty, sister don’t be sad for him.” I smiled. Indeed nothing to be sad about. After all, the one let down, wasn’t me. Mentioning this topic, Tiffany changed conversation direction, shyly said: “Sister, some time ago parents talked a partner for me, the only son of Sterling Pharmaceuticals.” Saying, she took out her phone, clicked open a photo: “Parents both say he’s young and promising, but I feel he… looks too handsome haha, always feel a bit unsteady, sister has experience right? Help me see, how is this person?” A distant voice carrying familiar words, emerged in my mind. [Audrey, what do you think of me? Can I… be your boyfriend?] The picture is blurry, I actually still remember. “Sister? What’s wrong with you?” I returned to senses, moved eyes away from photo, pulled lips: “He… looks very good, steady, reliable.” Tiffany smiled up: “Really ma? You all say good then definitely good! “Right sister, his name is Ethan Sterling.” Ethan Sterling. I silently recited these two words once, lowered eyes and pulled lips. Hope he, doesn’t hate the house and its crow. Chapter 3 Before sleeping at night, my mom knocked on my door. Simply talked a few sentences about that year’s matter. “Audrey ah, that year’s matter, Tiffany was also innocent, she after all was also watched growing up by me and your dad, look… just treat as added a sister, okay?” I hooked my lips: “Of course okay ah, sister is very cute.” My mom’s face softened, holding my hand said: “Tiffany was spoiled by us since childhood, personality a bit… willful, you bear more.” I smiled and nodded: “Will do.” Next day, I got my period didn’t want to move. Tiffany face innocent brought period pain medicine, let me eat and accompany her shopping. Arrived at mall, she held my arm, worriedly said: “Sister, Ethan brother’s birthday is coming soon, what do you say I send him good ne?” “He will like whatever you send.” I casually said. Tiffany smiled charmingly, took me into a high luxury men’s wear counter. Picked for half day picked a haze blue shirt, guide asked her what size to take, she was in trouble. Guide patiently said: “Then convenient to ask your husband’s height and weight ma?” Tiffany seemed pleased by those three words, smiled: “His figure is very good, height about 6’1″… no… 6’2″, aiya I’m not sure, anyway he’s very tall!” Guide looked at Tiffany gesturing, smiled a bit awkwardly. “Take size L ba.” I suddenly spoke. Tiffany looked towards me, bottom of eyes flashed a trace of displeasure. I pulled my lips: “I sold clothes before, didn’t you show me his photo that day ma? His shoulders are relatively wide, should need to wear this size.” Tiffany could smile happily again. “Original sister sold clothes before ne, really amazing.” I was lazy to answer, smiled once count. Chapter 4 Tiffany still wanted to choose a tie. She also didn’t want guide following, picked a few let me hold, she wanted to take a photo. “Sister, you say which one he will like ne? How about I buy all ba?” I narrowed eyes smiled once, hadn’t started perfunctory, Tiffany’s phone rang. Heard her suddenly soften voice, that side should be Ethan. “What’s wrong, brother? Did you see the photo I sent ma?” That side paused: “I’m not much older than you, you call my name is fine.” “Oh, okay ba,” Tiffany a bit disappointed said, “People choosing tie for you ne, which one you like ya?” Ethan didn’t answer but asked: “Who are you with?” “What’s wrong?” “Who is the person cooperating with you to take photo?” Ethan asked again with serious tone. Tiffany looked back at me once, frowned whispered嘟囔 (mumbled): “It’s… my sister ah.” “Biological sister?” “En, parents just brought home two days ago.” Phone that side silent for two seconds. Ethan tone recovered calm: “No need to buy tie for me, I still have things, hang up first.” Tiffany hung up phone walked in front of me, pulled face complained: “Ethan is unhappy, not buying.” I followed her gaze, looked at my own hands. Skinny bony, ordinary to cannot be more ordinary. I don’t think anyone can recognize another person by relying on a pair of hands. But fact is. Because of these hands, Ethan got angry. Chapter 5 Stayed home for a few days, I couldn’t stay idle, wanted to go out find something to do. Tiffany half-jokingly said: “Sister ah, how are you a toil life ne?” I fake smiled at her once, carrying camera bag went out. The day of SATs, parents who raised me locked me at home not letting me go take exam. In order to let me marry early. I smashed window escaped out, still missed one subject. Finally only went to an ordinary undergraduate college. University graduation, grandmother used her lifelong savings, bought me this camera. Said let me go fulfill dream. What dream can talk about, feed myself first then say. I carried this camera bearing hope, alone came to this city. Just started shooting portraits, whole day not crawling on ground, is editing pictures. Slowly, started taking some wedding following shots. Then later, was led by Jessica sister into commercial photography. First commercial shoot I took, was shooting profile photos for a company’s senior executives. Big shots all particular about efficiency, very quickly shot finished. Just preparing to pack things, studio came in a young man in suits and leather shoes. He lightly hooked corner of lips nodded slightly to me, walked straight to shooting position. I momentarily didn’t move, because he looked not like certain CEO, instead very like male star. But he was too calm and composed. Not like rubbing shoot (mooching a photoshoot). So I lifted camera again. Shot girl portraits too much, I looked at viewfinder, blurted out a sentence: “Baby head tilt left a bit.” Finished saying only realized, standing before lens, is an 8-foot tall big man. I embarrassed, but pretended nothing happened. But just at the moment I pressed shutter, handsome guy lips corner raised a too obvious smile. This is no good. I spoke to remind again: “Ba… Sir, smile is okay.” Shooting ended. I habitually flipped through photos. Thin soled leather shoes lightly stepping ground quietly approached. I looked up, crashed into a pair of deep smiling eyes. “My name is Ethan Sterling, can add your contact information ma?”

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Escorting the institute’s core secrets back to the country with my husband. When preparing to board, he said he left important documents at the hotel and asked me to return first. I smiled and watched him get in the car, then turned around and opened the shared location on my phone. He didn’t go back to the hotel, but changed his route to a villa in the suburbs. I took a taxi and followed, seeing a man holding a child standing at the villa door. “Hubby, you finally came back, son and I missed you so much.” Ethan took the child, then lowered his head and kissed the woman’s lips hard. “Wifey, I missed you guys to death too, where you are is home.” Just then, the NSA called, asking why I didn’t board on time. I looked at the two embracing not far away, and spoke coldly. “Because the Deputy Director of the Satellite Research Institute, Dr. Ethan Clarke, is colluding with spies and selling state secrets.” “I request the military to assist me in making an arrest.” Chapter 1 Not long after I hung up, Ethan’s phone rang. Don’t know what the other side said, the smile on his face disappeared instantly, and a trace of panic appeared in his eyes. He hurriedly stuffed the child back into Helena’s arms, rushing to leave. Helena didn’t understand, pulled his hand asking doubtfully: “Hubby, where are you going? Didn’t we agree to accompany me and son tonight?” Ethan had no mood to explain to her, threw off her hand and got into the car. He returned to the airport. After learning I didn’t get on the plane back either, he started calling me crazily. I ignored him, sitting straight looking at two NSA agents in front of me. One named Agent Miller looked at me seriously: “Dr. Charlotte Reed, the matter you reported is of great importance. If false, you will bear legal responsibility.” I nodded solemnly, saying word by word: “Agent Miller, I will be responsible for every word I say.” “The only mission for Ethan and me this time is to escort the core technology back.” “One night I forgot to turn off the laptop, the camera happened to record him putting sleeping pills in my milk, sneaking out of the hotel after I fell asleep.” “Only then did I know he sneaks to the suburbs every night, coming back until dawn.” “Inside here are that surveillance video and Ethan’s movement track after leaving the hotel every night.” I put a USB drive on the table. Miller exchanged a look with another agent, asked immediately: “Then is the institute’s core technology in Ethan’s hands now?” I nodded then shook my head: “To prevent core technology leakage, Ethan and I each kept half of the data.” “I can guarantee the data I’m responsible for is known to no second person besides me, but I can’t guarantee for Ethan.” Miller’s breath hitched, picked up the USB drive on the table and stood up immediately. “Dr. Reed, we need to verify the information and evidence you provided now. During this time, you cannot leave this conference room temporarily, hope you understand.” I nodded calmly. Ethan, still at the airport, was completely panicked because he couldn’t contact me. He prepared to go back to the hotel to find me. Resulting just walking out of the airport, he was surrounded by a dozen fully armed SWAT officers. Dozen black machine gun muzzles all aimed at his head. He was scared pale instantly, almost collapsed on the ground. “You are Ethan Clarke, right? Please come with us!” Before he could speak, two officers already cuffed his hands behind his back, pushing him onto the tactical vehicle. Ethan was also brought back to the secure facility. I turned my head, just meeting his eyes. His pupils shrank fiercely, then immediately roared at me loudly: “Charlotte! Are you f*cking sick!” “I am your husband! You actually wronged me so!” I didn’t speak, just looked at him coldly. Husband? Half an hour ago, he was still holding another woman kissing, calling her wifey affectionately. If he really treated me as a wife. How could he go abroad to have a child with a mistress while I was in closed research! Whether he sold state secrets or not is not important to me. I only know, I want revenge for the green hat on my head. Now, the revenge game officially begins! Chapter 2 In less than half an hour, Miller had already found out about Helena. Even knew Helena gave birth to an illegitimate son for Ethan. Miller sat opposite me again with the investigated materials. “Dr. Reed, how much do you know about your husband Ethan’s affair? Did you report your husband to revenge him?” Meeting his sharp eyes, I subconsciously tightened my grip on the tea cup. But my expression remained calm, tone very peaceful: “I indeed knew he cheated before, but I would absolutely not use my future to revenge him.” “I found things a bit wrong when investigating evidence of his cheating.” “Where wrong?” “His affair partner is a foreign woman, family has deep overseas background.” This news was certainly not investigated by me. But Helena took the initiative to tell me to show off and provoke. Her sudden appearance completely shattered all my fantasies about love and family. Miller frowned tight. “Just on this point, you determined he colluded with spies, selling state secrets?” My eyes suddenly turned red, voice carried trembling and grief easily detectable. “Agent Miller, I don’t want to talk about family scandal, but concerning national security, I dare not hide anything.” “Everyone thought I had an accidental miscarriage back then, but actually I saw from chat records, he deliberately aborted my child for that mistress, and took advantage of my closed research to go abroad fooling around with that woman, giving birth to an illegitimate son.” My words were half true half false. I indeed saw chat records of Ethan and Helena. But at that time I already miscarried. Reason I said so, was just to make everyone focus on chat records. Sure enough, Miller asked back immediately: “What’s in the chat records?” “Besides some flirting words, what that woman asked most was Ethan’s work content.” Speaking of this, I paused a bit before continuing: “My grandfather was actually one of the first leaders of the Intelligence Community, father also served in the agency. Under their influence, I am relatively sensitive to some information.” Miller looked at me very surprised upon hearing this. And this is exactly my trump card. With grandfather and father endorsing me. Who dares question me framing Ethan for selfish desire! Miller spoke again, tone much more polite: “Dr. Reed, rest assured, we will continue deep investigation.” “We will absolutely not wrong any good person, but absolutely not let go any bad person, especially bad people harming national interests and security.” I nodded, reminded euphemistically: “Chat records should have been deleted by Ethan, but he has an encrypted folder, even I can’t look, maybe there will be things you are looking for inside.” Not long after Miller left, commotion came from outside the conference room again. Turns out Helena was also “invited” to the facility for tea. Her eyes full of panic. When seeing me not far away, suddenly pounced at me like crazy. After being stopped by officers, she growled at me again: “Charlotte, you bitch! What exactly did you do to me and Ethan?” I hooked my lips, eyes full of mockery: “Nothing, I just returned what you did to me and my child to you.” “Oh right, didn’t Ethan say where you are is home? Isn’t this me fulfilling you guys!” Blood on Helena’s face lost instantly. After a long time she screamed: “You bitch!” “No wonder no one loves you!” “No wonder Ethan feels disgusting even touching you once!” If a month ago, I might be sad because of her words. But now, the fiercer they scold the happier I am. Because they panicked! Chapter 3 Because the matter is significant, Ethan and I were secretly sent back to D.C. Just his wrists had a pair of silver handcuffs more than me. After all I am “Whistleblower”, and he is “Suspect”. As for Helena, because she is foreign personnel, some procedures not done yet, can only stay in the secure facility temporarily. On the plane, Ethan kept trying to find a chance to talk to me, but was prevented from approaching. Watching his aggrieved and anxious expression, I felt some pleasure in my heart. Ethan, are you afraid already? But this is just the beginning! After landing, Ethan was locked into a “black room” waiting for further review. And I because am “key protected personnel”, stayed in a designated hotel. Soon, Miller brought the current leader of NSA, Director Vance, to find me. Vance wore a suit, eyes like eagle, imposing manner. First sentence he saw me was: “You are Old Reed’s granddaughter?” I nodded. Hearing this, his tone softened a few degrees: “I believe Dr. Reed definitely won’t tell lies.” “Just we also preliminarily interrogated Ethan, he insisted he only had moral issues, didn’t betray the country, your report was completely out of anger and jealousy.” “Helena also said she just had normal relationship with Ethan, never asked about other’s work, those questions in chat records were just ordinary person’s curiosity about secret unit.” “Normal relationship? Curiosity?” I smiled sarcastically, then took out phone clicked album. “Ethan more than once brought Helena into our unit’s confidential department for visit without declaration.” “Helena expressed envy to me many times to Ethan, saying she didn’t want to sit at home being a mom either, hoping to have a decent work like mine.” “So, he planned to use his identity as Deputy Director, forge resume for Helena, specially recruit into our unit as intern assistant.” “I found forged resume and employment notice in his computer.” “But unit like ours, strictly forbids hiring foreign personnel.” Words out, Vance’s eyes instantly clouded. He slapped table hard. “Simply lawless!” Different from anger of two opposite, I remained calm without waves. As if person being investigated had nothing to do with me. “We will verify what you said one by one.” Vance said here, sighed lightly: “Old Reed was a very excellent intelligence officer, if he was still alive, knowing his own granddaughter suffered such big grievance, would definitely be very sad.” I shook head, serious said: “In front of national interests, my personal honor and emotion completely not worth mentioning.” “Leaving aside personal grudge between Ethan and me, he is really a very excellent satellite talent, I also hope he is wronged, so, he can continue contributing to our country’s satellite cause.” Although said so, I understood in heart better than anyone. Foreign related issues are sensitive now. Ethan even wanted to use power to recruit foreign personnel into confidential department. Even if can’t find substantial evidence of him selling state secrets. Just this point is enough to ruin his future completely. He destroyed my home, killed my child, I also destroy what he values most. This is very fair, isn’t it? Vance looked at me with more respect. “Comrade Charlotte, then you rest well first, any progress in matter, we will notify you.” I got up sending two out. Just walked to door, I seemed to suddenly remember something, immediately added: “Director Vance, I suddenly remembered one thing, Helena seemed to mention, her adoptive father is a high-ranking official in Foreign Government.” “But specific doing what I am not clear either, you might start investigation from this aspect.” I frowned tight, like recalling some clues from daily life. Vance pupils shrank fiercely, bottom of eyes instantly condensed into frost. “Dr. Reed, we will definitely investigate clear clues you provided ASAP.” “If Ethan really betrayed country, even if he is satellite genius, we also zero tolerance!” I looked out window, rain gradually becoming smaller. This heavy rain in my life is finally about to stop. Chapter 4 The “important clue” about Helena’s adoptive father I provided to Vance accelerated the investigation progress by several gears. Ethan was soon secretly transferred to a more hidden location for isolation review. Except relevant investigators, no one could find out any news about him. Mother-in-law Mrs. Clarke’s calls and texts poured into my phone like flood discharge. [Charlotte, where is my son? Why can’t I contact him?] [Someone said you reported my son, you bastard, must you harm our family broken people dead to be satisfied?] [If anything happens to my son, I won’t let you go even as ghost!] … Looking at these abusive texts, I sneered repeatedly in heart. Mrs. Clarke always held opposing attitude towards my marriage with Ethan. Plus so many years we two had no issue, she disliked me even more. Slightly unhappy, would call to scold me. I indeed felt guilty because of that accidental miscarriage, so endured her as much as possible. Later I miscarried into hospital, she rushed to hospital angrily, pointing at my nose scolding me as jinx. She even said I couldn’t protect child well, simply unworthy living in this world. I never understood why Mrs. Clarke rejected me so much. Until that day, I accidentally heard conversation between her and Ethan. “Son, when will you bring Helena and my grandson back to see me?” “Mom, Helena is foreign personnel, not good to return casually.” “Moreover Charlotte is still here, you want her to discover Helena and Bobby’s existence?” Mrs. Clarke snorted coldly: “That jinx is really eyesore, just because she is here, I can’t meet my daughter-in-law and grandson all along.” “When will you divorce her? I…” Before she finished, Ethan interrupted impatiently: “Divorce what! I want to climb to Institute Director position, still need rely on Charlotte’s family background.” “When I get everything I want, I will naturally kick her away, so you meet her later attitude also better a bit…” Thinking here, my heart still involuntarily twitched pain. Husband I loved deeply, turns out only used me. Mother-in-law I respected, recognized other woman as daughter-in-law long ago. I am simply a huge joke. Immediately after, the Institute Director found me. Ethan is not only her proudest student, but also godson she recognized privately. First sentence she saw me blurted out was: “Charlotte ah, you and Ethan are couple, normal for couple to have conflict, you solve behind closed doors is fine.” “If because of momentary anger make big, whether for you or him, no benefit.” “How exactly did you know about Helena’s adoptive father?” Meeting her scrutinizing gaze, my tone calm: “Director, I am just fulfilling a citizen’s obligation, reported my suspicion truthfully to organization.” “Matter of Helena’s adoptive father, was she herself to provoke me, to prove to me she helps Ethan more, actively told me.” “As for whether Ethan knew this, I believe organization will investigate clear.” What I said was all true. I just hid a small part of truth. Helena’s adoptive father indeed wanted to contact Ethan through Helena, just strictly rejected by Ethan. Ethan is a scumbag in feelings. But in his heart, still has deep obsession about serving country. However, this is not important anymore. Important is he kept a mistress of unknown origin by side. No one will believe he is completely innocent anymore. Next day, Vance found me again. His face extra serious, no trace of warmth in eyes. “Dr. Reed, I come this time representing country to thank you.” “We already investigated clear, Ethan indeed betrayed country!”

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I used to be Rowan Mitchell, the realist prodigy who took the New York art world by storm. Now, still young, I run a tattoo parlor tucked away in a dimly lit alley. My work is impeccable, but the shop has one ironclad rule: no matter the price, I never ink a person’s name. “Roe, I still want her name.” The young guy who comes in every week stood in the doorway again. He pointed to the photo of a bright-eyed girl. “Just ‘Jenna.’ Please, can you do it?” I looked at him, and saw a reflection of another stubborn boy from years ago. Finally, I simply set my pen down on the table. My gaze drifted to my own growing belly. “Some names, you tattoo them thinking they’re profound declarations of love. Later, you realize they’re just jokes.” “I told you the rule. No names.” It wasn’t until news broke about Preston Van der Zee—the crown prince of the elite Manhattan circle—having a tattoo that read ‘Rowan’ on his lower back. The girls in the shop clustered around me: “Roe, that tattoo has the exact same name as yours!” “The gossip rags said the Prince had three ribs broken just to marry her. For a second, I almost thought you were the one!” I smiled, shaking my head, and stroked my pregnant stomach. The door suddenly swung open. The man stood in a tailored suit, dragging in the cold air from outside. He spoke with an unnerving detachment: “I need a removal.” 1 The moment I recognized him, my heart seized up. I froze. “Tattoo removal, right this way.” Jules, the receptionist, led him to the back room. Even with the mask covering the lower half of his face and his gaze fixed on the floor, I knew him instantly. He was Preston Van der Zee, the same man the girls and I had just been discussing. “Roe, he said he needs the owner to do the removal personally.” Jules approached me, her face clouded with concern. I pulled myself together. “It’s fine. I’ll take care of it.” Inside the back room, Preston sat rigidly on the sofa, legs crossed, his clean knuckles idly scrolling on his phone screen. He had the speakerphone on. I heard the simpering voice of a woman on the other end: “You promised me you would clean up everything that had to do with her! But that tattoo is still there, and every time I think about it…” A broken sob filtered through the line. Preston patiently soothed her: “If you don’t like seeing it, then I’ll have it removed.” His voice dropped lower, colder. “It’s just a tattoo. Every second it stays on my body, I find it disgusting.” The sound of me pushing the door caught his attention, and he finally looked up. The moment he recognized me, his brows knit together almost imperceptibly. His sharp, assessing gaze fell to my prominent baby bump. Preston quickly pulled his attention away, addressing the phone: “Be good. I’ll be home soon.” He hung up. He looked at me. “The Van der Zee name won’t be held hostage by a child. However you got pregnant, you’ll terminate it.” His eyes were heavy and grim. For a moment, I didn’t process what he’d said. When the meaning hit, I scoffed out loud: “This is my husband’s child, Preston. It has nothing to do with you.” “I got married after we separated.” He tapped his fingers lightly on the seat, seemingly considering something. I ignored him, rolling the laser machine over. As routine, I lifted the fabric of his shirt to expose the tattoo on his lower back. Seeing the ink again after five months, my heart involuntarily lurched. Every line, every stroke, had been designed by my own hand. He had endured the pain to get it, and afterward, he’d cradled me in his arms, smiling, treating me like the most precious treasure: “This way, we’ll never be apart.” I steadied myself. “This will hurt a little. Try to stay still.” My voice was flat and steady, as if I were addressing the most ordinary client. In the small treatment room, the laser machine began its rhythmic tick-tock. Preston’s sweat beaded instantly. Each pulse of the laser brought a suppressed grunt of pain. I didn’t know how much time passed until the final stroke blurred into an angry, blood-flecked red blotch. It was done. Just like a broken promise, a wrong relationship had finally been corrected. “You’ll need three more sessions,” I said, removing my protective goggles. “It will scab, then flake off. Nothing to worry about.” Preston stumbled as he stood up, raising a hand to offer me a credit card. “Whosever child it is, abort it.” He paused. “Chelsea is pregnant too. If she were to find out, it would cause unnecessary suspicion, and emotional distress is bad for the baby.” I waved the bank card away, forcing a small smile. “Do you really think I’m just some trinket you can pick up and put down whenever you like?” Preston was silent for a beat. He sighed lightly. “Rowan, I never looked down on you.” I responded with a detached, “Mhm.” Then I turned and walked away, terrified that I would lose control, just as I used to—like a desperate, hysterical mess. And all I would get in return was a look of utter disgust and a cool, dismissive, “Are you done with your tantrum?” 2 I watched Preston walk out the door. My hand began to throb faintly. I forced a laugh for Jules. “It’s going to rain.” The words were barely out when a clap of thunder split the sky. Jules looked at me with immediate reverence. “Roe, you’re basically a Greek goddess of weather.” I gazed out the window, smiling but saying nothing. The night deepened, and the rain became a drumming downpour, blurring the glass into a massive watery curtain. Thirteen years ago, it had been a rainy day too. My father was a bodyguard for the Van der Zee family. Preston was only six then. He’d been kidnapped by an enemy family while playing outside. It was my father who sacrificed his life to save him. His only dying wish: Look after his daughter. And so, I became a fixture in the Van der Zee mansion. I was very young and only knew that my father had died because of Preston. The crushing grief overwhelmed me, and seeing him made me scream and cry. “You killed my dad! I hate you!” I stood alone in the rain, my voice raw and hoarse. The cold rain drenched me, the chill reaching my bones. Ignoring the servants’ frantic attempts to stop him, Preston ran out into the storm and pulled me into a hug, whispering, his small body trembling: “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry…” We both got sick and passed out from the cold. When I woke up, Preston was sitting by my bedside, his boyish face serious and earnest: “From now on, I will protect you in everything. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” From then on, I was the Van der Zee family’s unofficial second daughter. Preston indulged my every whim. When I had nightmares about my father’s death, he would sit up all night by my bed without fail. Having just lost the only family I had, I began to depend on him, seeing him as a source of salvation. To preserve the memory of my father, I begged him to find me a painting tutor. I immersed myself in art, determined to paint the last images of my father from my memory. It was then that my teachers discovered my extraordinary talent. By age thirteen, I was studying at the Royal Academy of Arts. By fourteen, I was the protégé of a world-renowned master. At sixteen, one of my pieces sold for eight figures. I became the it girl, the prodigy, but a photo of me and Preston was leaked. The media speculation and online gossip were relentless: “Hooking up with the Prince of the Elite Circle at that age? Shameless!” “She’s nothing but a scheming gold-digger. Why are you praising her?” “Look at her. She’s clearly manipulative. Her awards? Probably slept with the judges to get them!” “Genius? More like a cheap hustler.” Spreading rumors is the fastest way to destroy a woman. Before I could react, all the online filth was scrubbed clean. Preston took the rare step of posting on his social media: “The girl I consider my North Star is not one for you to judge.” After that single sentence. No one dared to speak ill of me again. All the major gossip mongers received cease-and-desist letters. I was still in London for school when he took a red-eye flight, knocking on my door in the middle of the night. “Roe, don’t waste a single minute worrying about those people.” His long lashes still held flakes of snow. His expression was focused and full of concern. I was momentarily stunned. In that fleeting moment, I understood something deeper in his gaze. But I dared not entertain the thought. The Van der Zee empire was too vast. Preston, the heir, was destined for a strategically advantageous marriage. “Thanks, Preston,” I said, drawing my thoughts back and forcing a smile. The light in Preston’s eyes dimmed. He asked, his voice shaking: “What did you just call me?” It sounded as if he couldn’t believe his own ears. “Preston,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I’m meeting friends for class soon, so I can’t entertain you for long.” Preston looked like he wanted to say more, but he only ran a hand through my hair. He spoke, his voice hoarse: “I’ll head back then.” The unspoken longing of our youth ended there, in that moment of conscious retreat. The change came later, on the night of my eighteenth birthday ball. 3 “Roe,” Jules gasped, eyes wide, staring at the computer screen. “This girl looks just like you!” My heart pounded, and I quickly moved to her side. Underneath a post discussing Preston’s tattoo, someone had uploaded an old photo. It showed Preston pinning a boy to the floor, fists flying, while I, dressed in a couture gown and wearing a tiara, tried to break up the fight. Jules scratched her head, asking tentatively: “Roe, so you and the Prince really do know each other?” I nodded. And I began to tell her the story behind the photo. At my eighteenth birthday ball, a relatively well-known boy from our circle had confessed his feelings for me. Preston had immediately grabbed the boy’s collar, his tone razor sharp: “She belongs to me. What right do you have to touch her?!” The two of them had fought, oblivious to the venue or the crowd. That night, Preston came looking for me. He started drinking alone, and two glasses in, he was drunk. He cupped my face in his hands, his expression full of sorrow. “Roe, don’t you know?” He collapsed into my arms, his eyes reflecting mine. “I’m in love with you.” A burst of fireworks outside illuminated his desolate face. The painter’s perception of beauty was magnified in that moment. On impulse, I kissed his perfect lips. The moment it was done, a wave of regret washed over me. The next day, he announced to his parents that he was going to marry me. He stood firm even after his father allegedly broke three of his ribs, raging: “A Van der Zee heir marrying a bodyguard’s daughter? You’re degrading yourself!” Preston never backed down, eventually forcing the family to consent to the marriage. He had completely sealed off any chance for me to change my mind. After we married, he treated me exactly the same as before. He wanted me by his side at every event, introducing me proudly to everyone: “This is my wife. She’s a painter, a little known genius.” The entire elite circle declared him a man obsessed with his wife. “Wow,” Jules said, shaking her head, a hint of confusion in her voice. “So why did you two break up?” “The Prince was clearly madly in love with you, and you’re so accomplished. Who was this ‘other woman’ who could possibly steal him away?” When I first heard about Preston’s affair, I was dismissive. He loved me too much, I thought. He loved me enough to tattoo my name on his skin, to be inseparable from me, even immersing himself in art exhibitions and oil painting just for my sake. Chelsea Bell was the one who appeared then. Preston’s mistress. She was a struggling, ambitious university student from a poor background. I was hosting my “Phoenix Rising” exhibition in the city, and Preston was there with me. In the gallery, a young woman grabbed my hand, asking excitedly: “You’re Rowan Mitchell, right?” Her eyes sparkled. Before I could speak, she rushed on: “Ms. Mitchell, you are my idol. I’ve studied all your work, from when you were a teen until now. I truly hope to be like you someday!” Then her expression dimmed. “But I don’t have your resources. My family can’t afford to let me continue my studies.” I was moved. I considered testing her skills to see if she was worth discreetly sponsoring. I asked her, “Can you tell me which Western Art History movement you admire the most?” “I…” She stammered, unable to answer. “Enough.” Preston uncharacteristically cut me off. “Roe, don’t put her on the spot.” I stared, momentarily stunned. I was about to explain my intentions. But then I saw it: he was looking at Chelsea Bell with a barely concealed expression of pity. That was how they met. A few days later, Preston brought Chelsea home to talk with me. “Roe, do you remember Chelsea?” “Her family is forcing her to quit school and marry for money. I want to bring her here. You can mentor her personally.” Chelsea clutched at the corner of her dress, biting her lower lip, looking panicked and helpless. “Ms. Mitchell, it would be my honor to be taught by you.” “I promise to study hard. Please, just give me a chance.” She immediately knelt at my feet, her eyes wide with desperation and craving. I felt sympathy for her plight and agreed. She did nothing in the house but paint, focusing entirely on her art. Preston told the outside world that she was my new protégé, giving her an immediate, huge boost in attention. Every time I came home from a busy day, I would coach her hands-on. Watching her gradually improve, and eventually hold her own small exhibition, brought me a genuine sense of fulfillment. 4 The turning point came at one of Chelsea’s exhibitions. She displayed several works that I had never publicly released. My blood instantly boiled. I immediately confronted Preston, my voice tight with accusation: “What is the meaning of those paintings in Chelsea’s show?” I had only ever shown those specific drafts to him. Preston flinched, then said dismissively: “I gave them to her. You have so many pieces, why are you making a big deal out of a few sketches?” He tried to brush the entire matter aside. He embraced me, his voice calm. “She said she liked them, so I gave them to her. I’ll talk to her about it next time.” I refused to back down. I said with a deep, furious calm: “This is theft, Preston!” I then used my official website and social media to release an authoritative statement. Chelsea was immediately slammed by online outrage. She posted a desperate-sounding message: “Are you trying to destroy me? I don’t have Rowan’s wealth and privilege. I’m just a struggling person from a poor background. What is wrong with trying to succeed?” Preston immediately deployed the Van der Zee PR machine, working through the night to delete any negative comments about Chelsea, including my official statement. Unwilling to give up, I contacted the media and planned a press conference to clarify the truth. Preston finally erupted in rage. He came to me, shouting: “Stop it!” “Haven’t you caused enough trouble?!” “She tried to kill herself because of you! She cut her wrists! Do you know how important hands are to a painter?” For a moment, I hardly recognized him. I didn’t back down. I even swore I would paint exact duplicates of the stolen pieces and show the world that she was a fraud. Chelsea finally became afraid. She ran to Preston. “Mr. Van der Zee, please save me. I don’t want my reputation destroyed.” The day of the press conference, Preston brought a team to intercept me. He gestured to several men, and they viciously and deliberately struck my hand bones. I heard the sickening, sharp crack of the bone breaking. “Ah!—” Preston turned his eyes away, unable to watch, but his voice was unwavering. “Don’t blame me, Roe.” “If you lose your hand, you’re still Mrs. Van der Zee. But Chelsea—she can’t afford to lose anything else.” My face was paper-white. I squeezed out a strangled cry of pain, the agony nearly consuming my sanity. “Take me to a hospital, please!” I knelt on the floor, trembling violently. Preston didn’t budge. “You can hold on a little longer.” Chelsea, hiding timidly behind Preston, shot me a look of cold, victorious challenge. That was the darkest day of my life. In a single afternoon, I lost the man I loved and the career I was so proud of. 5 “Whaaa!” Jules’s cheeks were wet with tears. She looked at me with deep sympathy. “Roe, I just tried to search for your old profile, and I can’t find anything.” It was useless. After Preston and I had our final rupture, he flew into a rage and used his connections to completely wipe out all traces of my life with him. No one was allowed to mention me. I pretended to be unaffected, smiling at Jules. “Tomorrow is the start of spring holiday. We’ll take the day off.” “Okay.” … The spring rain drizzled down. When I arrived at the cemetery, a tall, familiar figure was already standing there. Pushing down my emotions, I walked over and silently placed a bouquet of white chrysanthemums at my father’s grave. I stood beside Preston for a moment. As I reached the cemetery gate, he suddenly grabbed my arm. I forced myself to meet his eyes and gave a polite smile. “Can I help you?” Preston’s gaze was fixed intently on my abdomen. “Abort the child. For the sake of your father’s memory, you can still come back as Mrs. Van der Zee.” He lowered his eyes, his lips barely moving. “Chelsea feels deeply guilty about what happened between us. If you come back, she will give you her child to raise as compensation. All she asks is to see him five times a week.”

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I’m the canary of a gloomy villain, but I’m a lazy one. When the villain went bankrupt, the System ordered me to humiliate him, dump him, and ignite his fighting spirit so he could rise again. I said no. I was too lazy to yell at him. Jasper gripped my chin, his voice harsh. “Everyone else has left me. Why are you still here? To laugh at my downfall?” I let out a slow, deliberate yawn. “Too lazy to run.” His eyes reddened, and he sank into despair. “I’m just a useless, broke loser now. I can’t give you the life of luxury you had before…” I patted his head. “Alright, aren’t you tired after saying all that? Come here. Let’s get some rest.” And so, to prevent me from starving to death, Jasper Blackwood pulled himself together and worked himself to the bone, juggling three jobs a day. When the point in the original novel arrived where he was supposed to be deepening his bond with the female lead, Jasper was at home instead, kneeling on one knee, meticulously tying the ribbon on my dress into a perfect bow. The System shrieked in my head: “Sis, what are you, some kind of chaos agent?!” 1 My name is Lila, and I am the kept woman of Jasper Blackwood, a big shot in the city’s elite circle. And I am a lazy person. People used to say Jasper was great at keeping secrets, because despite how long I’d been with him, you couldn’t find a single photo of me online. Well… The truth is, I just spent all my days lying around at home. I was too lazy to go out. Becoming his canary was something of an accident. After college, I sent my resume to his company. In the “Desired Position” field, I wrote: “Less work, more pay.” In the “Personal Bio” section: “Good at eating.” Jasper clutched that resume, turning it over and over, trying to decipher its meaning. Driven by sheer curiosity, he decided to interview me himself. I explained, “It’s shorthand for ‘good for nothing but eating and lazing around.’” He furrowed his brow, completely baffled. “Then why didn’t you write the whole thing?” I took a sip of water and, at a languid 0.75x speed, uttered three words: “Too lazy.” Jasper was speechless. Despite the train wreck of an interview, I still got a job. Jasper needed a way out of an arranged business marriage, so he hired me to be his professional canary. I weighed the pros and cons in my head— High pay, low effort. And I could work from home. It was a perfect fit. My constitution is weak, and I’m always low on energy. Walking a few steps makes me want to squat, and standing up too fast makes the world go black. My only real talent is my incredibly high-quality sleep. This, as it turned out, was a huge benefit for Jasper. He’s a sensitive and somewhat gloomy person. A traumatic childhood, being bullied and ostracized in school, getting backstabbed by a partner after starting his business… it all left its mark. He became suspicious and emotionally wound-up, often suffering from depression and insomnia. Every night, he would use me as a human pillow, pulling me into his arms. He’d breathe in the scent of my hair, gently squeeze the soft flesh at my waist, and his entire body would relax, allowing him a full night of peaceful sleep. All I had to do was sleep. Every time I opened my eyes, there would be gifts and money transfers waiting for me. It was truly… a dream offer. 2 But now, things had taken a very bad turn. Jasper had been set up and had gone bankrupt. He was overwhelmed, and I hadn’t seen him in days. He was busy dissolving his company, selling off assets, and paying his employees their final wages and severance. As for me, he didn’t even see me one last time. He just sent a text. “I don’t have any money left to give you a breakup fee.” “The gifts I gave you before were all freely given.” “You can go.” I was so devastated by the news that I fell into a deep sleep for 15 hours. When I woke up, a System appeared in my head. It told me this was a novel world, Jasper was the gloomy villain, and I was a plot-device canary meant to push the story forward. “Right now! This very second!” the System declared with passionate fervor. “You need to act like a gold-digger, slap Jasper across the face a few times, call him a useless pauper, and dump him to ignite his fighting spirit!” “Only then can he rise from the ashes, reunite with his childhood sweetheart—the female lead—who now has the male lead by her side, and kick off a 200-chapter-long angsty love triangle…” I covered my ears. “No.” Slapping him, yelling at him… it all sounded exhausting. The System threatened, “As a plot device, your mission is to advance the story. If you fail, you will be punished with electric shocks.” With all my strength, I rolled over in bed. “Go on then. Shock me.” “…” It was completely stumped. Come on. I might be lazy, but I’m not stupid. If I actually listened to the System’s garbage advice and ground Jasper’s pride into the dirt, knowing his personality, the moment he got back on his feet, he’d chop me into a million pieces. 3 Three days later, I finally went to find Jasper. The fallen prince had traded his glamorous penthouse in the financial district for a cramped, sunless apartment in the guts of the city, where the buildings were so close they could touch. Stubble darkened his jaw, and he was slumped on the floor, surrounded by a decadence of cigarette smoke and cheap liquor. He saw me and laughed at himself. “Didn’t you leave? What are you doing back here? Did you miss some valuables on your first pass?” I shook my head and handed him a bank card. “While you were gone, I contacted some secondhand luxury resellers. This money should help with your debt.” Jasper had always been a generous provider. When he was at the top, he’d bought me so much from various luxury and jewelry brands that I became a VIC at all of them. Every time a new or limited-edition item was released, they would send someone to deliver it to me. My room was overflowing with clothes, bags, watches, and jewelry. His voice trembled, his eyes wide with disbelief. “All that stuff… you barely even bothered to unbox most of it. You sold it all?!” Uh… Well, actually, I was just too lazy to unbox it. But because everything was brand new, I got a much better price. If he wanted to think of it that way, though, that was fine. I was too lazy to correct him. Just then, my stomach rumbled. To cover my embarrassment, I quickly added in a small voice, “I don’t eat much. I won’t be a burden. Please don’t make me leave…” After all, a boss and benefactor as good as him was a rare find. He sniffled. “Okay.” We went downstairs to a grimy little diner and bought a ten-dollar takeout box with one meat and two vegetable dishes. He pushed it in front of me while he pulled out a plain bun and some pickles for himself. “See this? I’m a useless pauper now. If you stay with me, this is your future. A life of hardship, eating cheap, crappy food.” I was unbothered. “What’s wrong with this food?” I pointed at each dish. “Look, you’ve got carbs, protein, and dietary fiber. It’s so well-balanced! And it’s only ten bucks, and there are even pork ribs in here. Is the owner running a charity?” I broke apart my chopsticks and gave him most of the ribs. Since I spent most of my days lying down, my energy consumption was low, and I didn’t eat much anyway. His eyes grew even redder. “Are you really okay with this? When you were with me, you used to eat…” Yes, back then, every meal was prepared by a private Michelin-star chef. Cantonese, Sichuan, Huaiyang, Western, Japanese, Thai… an endless variety of cuisines featuring lobster, sea cucumber, and king crab. But so what? I was too lazy to chew any of it. I just threw everything into a blender and drank it as a paste. That wasn’t an option anymore. The blender, along with the penthouse, had been repossessed by the bank. I savored the sweet and sour pork ribs. Hmm, much tastier than the paste. Meeting my clear, untroubled gaze, Jasper sighed and started rambling again. “Forget it. I spoiled you too much. You don’t know what real hardship is. You’ll understand in time. Your youth is precious; it’s not worth wasting on me. If you regret this, you can leave anytime. I won’t touch a cent of the money on that card. This bankruptcy is my failure, it has nothing to do with you. I’ll handle all the debt myself…” His words felt like a tightening headband on my head. The old Jasper was cool, gloomy, and a man of few words. This new Jasper was like a worried father. I patted his head, interrupting his spell. “Okay, stop. Aren’t you tired from talking so much? You have dark circles under your eyes. You haven’t been sleeping well again, have you? Come on, let’s get some sleep.” I got up and opened my suitcase. Before the bank sealed the apartment, they let me take a few personal items. I thought about it and chose my pillow and comforter. No matter how hard or exhausting life gets, a good night’s sleep gives you the strength to keep going. The bed was soft and warm. Lying down felt like being held by a cloud. For the first time, Jasper didn’t hold me. He turned his back to me, his shoulders shaking as he muffled his sobs. Just as I was drifting off, he kissed the top of my head. “Lila, I swear I’ll give you a good life again.” 4 After that day, Jasper’s confidence returned. He worked three jobs a day, running himself ragged. He spent his days in sales, his evenings writing business plans for college students, and then did a couple of food delivery runs before calling it a night. In his words, if he didn’t work harder, he was afraid I’d starve. Sigh. I, too, was trying to figure out how to make money while lying down. After a bit of research, I got sleepy again. Well, first things first. Time for a nap. But just as I was about to crawl into bed, an idea struck me. I set up my phone and started a livestream of myself sleeping. I yawned, and within minutes, I was in a deep sleep. A random viewer stumbled into my stream, assuming it was a gimmick. They thought if they sent a gift, I’d wake up and say thank you. So they sent a small heart sticker. Nothing happened. I was dead to the world, completely unaware. Unconvinced, they sent a sunglasses sticker. Still no response. Their stubbornness was now fully activated. They started spamming gifts, determined to see when I would finally wake up. Rainbows, paper planes, hot air balloons… The higher the gift value, the more the platform promoted the stream. More and more viewers poured in to watch me sleep. The comments started flying. “WTF, this streamer is so arrogant. How much do you have to spend to get her to wake up?” “What’s so interesting about watching someone sleep? Why are there so many people here? I’m out.” “But she looks like she’s sleeping so peacefully. I’m jealous of that sleep quality.” “That bedding looks really comfy. Anyone have a link?” “Link for the pajamas, please.” “+1” … When I finally woke up, I had earned a hundred dollars in gifts. I also had a collaboration request from a pajama company that wanted to feature a product link in my stream. I was thrilled! With this income, Jasper wouldn’t have to work so hard delivering food. I was about to call him to share the good news when a voice echoed in my head. The long-lost System was back. The last time we’d spoken, it had called Jasper a loser and me a loser pro-max. After realizing its insults had no effect on me, it had left me alone in a huff. But this time, it wasn’t scolding me. It sounded ecstatic.

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My best friend took care of her husband who was in a car accident for three days and nights. I went to visit with a case of energy drinks. Who knew the next day my best friend would storm into my house, slapping me across the face without a word. “It’s all because of the drinks you sent! You cursed him to forget his own child!” “Just because you can’t have children yourself, you try every way to destroy my family!” I was about to explain, but was dragged by her to the hospital. Her usually gentle husband was now whipping his own child with a belt. “Whose child is so uneducated? Today I’ll teach you a lesson for your parents!” My best friend was exasperated, pressing my head and roaring: “Look at what you’ve done, deliberately trying to harm us!” I silently watched the clear eyes of my best friend’s husband, swallowing the words on my lips. The truth, perhaps only he knows clearly. Chapter 1 The little girl who used to call me Auntie sweetly every time we met, was now full of fear. Her hair was messy, looking up cautiously at Xavier, faint slap marks still visible on her small face, heartbreaking just to look at. Zoe immediately let go of me in anger, distressingly hugged Zara into her arms, questioning with red eyes: “Why did you hit Zara? She’s just a child, so small, can’t you talk properly?” “Beating a child like this, is this how you act as a father?” But Xavier rolled his eyes impatiently, looking at her like she was a fool. “Don’t just find anyone to call dad, I’m not even married, where did the child come from?” “Who knows whose little bastard this is, I won’t recognize it.” Finished speaking he wanted to get up and leave, Zara immediately cried and pounced on him, hugging his leg refusing to let go. “Daddy don’t go, Zara will be obedient later, beg you don’t go!” Child is young, every “Daddy” heard broke people’s hearts. The ward was in chaos, Zoe hugged Zara crying together, all begging Xavier not to go. But he was unmoved, instead full of disgust, cursing: “Looking for a sucker finding me here? All get out of the way, don’t block the road!” He suddenly raised his foot and kicked Zoe, directly kicking the mother and daughter away, wailing and falling to the ground unable to get up. Seeing this I quickly ran over, wanting to help her up from the ground. But just reached out, was fiercely pushed away by Zoe. She stared dead at me, roaring: “All this is thanks to you, what are you still watching for? Why not stop Xavier quickly!” Voice fell, everyone’s eyes fell on me. Xavier suddenly eyes bright, excitedly pounced towards me. “Junior! You asked for my contact info when school started, remember?” He grabbed my wrist tightly, face full of excitement. Words out, everyone dumbfounded. Zoe looked at me in disbelief. And I was confused, really didn’t remember this. We three were indeed in same college, but I knew Xavier after he and Zoe were together, introduced by her. How did I not know I asked for his contact info? “Faye, what’s going on? I treat you as best friend, you actually target my husband?” Zoe questioned through gritted teeth, eyes full of hurt. I knew if this matter not solved well would affect our relationship, frowned wanting to explain, but interrupted by her directly. “No wonder you always asked our progress in college, turns out you targeted my husband since then.” “Shameless bitch, I was blind to take you as friend!” Hearing this, I took a deep breath, after all considering our years of friendship didn’t tear face with her, deep voice roared: “We knew each other so many years, am I such a person in your heart?” Chapter 2 Zoe stunned for a moment, after all we knew each other for over ten years, knew each other thoroughly. Just graduated looking for jobs, we accompanied each other, experienced so many storms. Now having a rift because of an unwarranted sentence is really unreasonable. She hesitated wanting to say something, but just opened mouth interrupted by Xavier. He smilingly took out phone, showed chat interface to us. “Didn’t you message me to eat out together before?” “Choose a day not as good as hit a day, how about today?” Looking along his line of sight, indeed a person with exactly same avatar and name as me messaged him. Zoe snatched the phone, trembling hand swiping up. Swiped for long time couldn’t reach the end. Two people chatted for several years, content explicit sentence by sentence, just looking made people blush. She trembled all over with anger, tears slid down cheeks dripping on ground. “Bitch!” She suddenly grabbed the phone, smashed hard on my face. Instantly my nose sour, tears sprayed out from eyes, like nose broken. I cried out in pain, covering nose trembling all over, couldn’t say a word. Zoe pointed at me crying and cursing, makeup on face cried messy. “What else you have to say now? I married him six years, you contacted him behind back for six years!” “Faye are you cheap or not, even covet best friend’s husband!” Seeing things getting out of control, I hurriedly waved hands, enduring pain explained. “This is simply not me, I usually don’t even say a word to him!” These years to avoid suspicion, even when she asked me eat out I rarely went, afraid affecting their couple relationship. How possible keep contact with Xavier behind back for so many years? But that account avatar name on his phone, clearly exactly same as mine. Even Moment (WeChat/Social Media) content not much different from mine, anyone seeing wouldn’t doubt authenticity of this account. When we quarreled, Xavier remained silent, watching us turn against each other with leisure. Long time later, he watched somewhat impatient, got up wanting to leave. But just got up, Zara suddenly vomited blood and fell headfirst to ground. Blood dyed clothes red, her small face glowed weird blue purple, instantly scared everyone in ward silly. “Zara!” Zoe screamed pouncing up, trembling hand hugged her into arms crying. “Hubby, you can’t go.” “You already matched with Zara, surgery soon, what about Zara if you go?” She grabbed Xavier’s pant leg dead tight, words said made me cold all over. Chapter 3 Until now I knew, recently Zara always uncomfortable. Nosebleed every now and then, body inexplicably appeared bruises. Checked at hospital found out, she actually got leukemia at such young age. Only way to save her is accept Bone Marrow Transplant. But although Zoe is Zara’s biological mom, matching not qualified, even willing to donate useless. Luckily Xavier and Zara bone marrow matched, can transplant for her. Originally this matter agreed, but Xavier had car accident amnesia, remembered everything except Zara mother and daughter. Originally set bone marrow transplant also gone. Sure enough, Xavier face changed suddenly hearing Zoe’s words, refused without thinking. “She is not my kin not my friend, why should I save an irrelevant child?” “Are you brain sick, hurry roll away.” Finished he cursed wanting to go, afraid walk slow caught to donate marrow. But at this moment, he is the only life-saving straw for Zara, Zoe naturally won’t let him go easily. She hugged Xavier’s leg crying dead tight, no matter how he kicked refused to let go. “What about Zara if you go? Where to find suitable marrow in short time?” Xavier angry shouted abuse, exasperated kicked her. “What relation with me, she own bad fate blame who? Can’t find suitable marrow then go die ah!” During dispute, doctor hurried come, Zara urgently sent to operating room. Outside door Zoe still entangled with Xavier, she long lost past calmness, tears snot covered face, looking extremely embarrassed. Xavier eyes flashed a trace of disgust unnoticed, “Really a crazy woman!” He used all strength, kicked Zoe’s chest area then wanted to leave. Zoe kicked flying, she struggled raised head suddenly looked at me, red eyes full of hate. “Now you satisfied? My family destroyed by you, now even Zara dying, all this thanks to you!” Quarrel here attracted many people’s attention, small operating room outside surrounded by people. Hearing Zoe’s words, everyone looked at me one after another. People more and more, she struggled crawled up from ground, pointing at me heart-tearing lung-splitting cursing. “My best friend actually is mistress destroying my family, loss I confided in her so many years, didn’t expect dancing with wolf!” “Beg everyone help me uphold justice, beat this shameless bitch to death!” Hearing this, crowd instantly exploded, eyes looking at me full of disdain disgust. “Really shameless enough, even covet best friend’s husband.” “I呸 (Pah), shameless slut, covet best friend’s man, causing other’s family broken, not afraid retribution?” “Mistress should be beaten to death, save coming out harm other families.” Everyone one sentence you one sentence I, all pointing at me, scolding non-stop. I tried hard to explain, but one person’s voice how cover so many people? My explanation in their view, more like trying to hide. Even many people took advantage chaos secretly pinched my arm thigh, not long pinched everywhere blue purple. I screamed pain, unbearable took out phone wanting call police, operating room door opened. Chapter 4 Zoe rushed up, urgently grabbed doctor’s hand asking: “How is Zara? Out of danger?” Doctor regretfully shook head, took off mask face serious said: “Patient condition deteriorated, family must find suitable bone marrow transplant object ASAP.” “Transplant surgery urgent, must proceed immediately, drag longer child can’t hold on.” Hearing this, Zoe instantly legs soft paralyzed on ground. “Zara… impossible…” Her eyes lost focus, dared not believe this bad news. Suddenly she fiercely looked at Xavier, kneeling crawled towards him, at this moment he is only hope to save Zara. “Xavier, Zara is your biological daughter, you can’t watch her die helplessly!” “Count I beg you, go do transplant surgery for Zara! Beg you save her ah!” Zoe knelt on both knees, grabbing Xavier’s pant leg crying. Her face full of despair, throat cried hoarse, despite her body full of injuries beaten by Xavier, still wanted to fight for a chance of survival for her daughter. Watching own daughter die in front of eyes, how big pain for a mother. But next second, Xavier directly kicked her heart nest, punched and kicked throwing her away. “Roll roll roll! Don’t know whose little bastard, also worthy let me take bone marrow save?” “Family of nutjobs, stay away from me.” Taking advantage Zoe pain couldn’t get up, he hurry seized gap ran. His kick used hundred percent strength, Zoe clothes full of dirty black footprints, fell on ground sucking cold air, crying choking. I frowned tight, withdrew hand wanting to support her, followed Xavier chased up. This matter I must figure out, is he really amnesia or fake amnesia, how just forgot Zoe and Zara? I followed behind him chased out door, just out hospital saw him sneakily got on a car. Just approached heard unbearable sounds from inside. A charming female voice came from car, instantly attracted my attention. “When exactly you divorce that woman, my belly can’t hide anymore.” Car shook violently for a while, Xavier panted cursing opened mouth. “That bitch wants me donate marrow, me dignified big man, what if body weak after donating marrow!” “Now I pretend amnesia forgot them all, wait tomorrow I think a reason get divorce certificate with her.” Voice fell, woman laughingly teased. “That is your biological daughter, you don’t donate marrow to her, really want watch her die?” Hands hanging at side tightened, I squatted at car blind spot, ear stuck dead to car. This question I also really want to know. Zara is his biological daughter, was his love for Zara before all fake? Xavier disdained snort, words full of contempt for Zoe mother and daughter. “Just a girl film, me strong body want how many kids can’t birth? Not missing this one.” “Die then die, just right isn’t there another one in your belly? As long as it’s a son, wait born we immediately go get certificate.” My eyes instantly sank, screams in car continued, I really couldn’t listen anymore, wanted get up leave. Words just now I already recorded all, just took out phone want send to Zoe. Who knew open phone actually saw internet overwhelmingly all videos just now in hospital. Really countless black and white photos of me crazy reposted, under every video full of cursing at me. A video of Zoe crying to camera even got on hot search. In video she hugged Zara crying tearful, body full of black footprints kicked by Xavier, face even can see slap marks. And Zara weak lying in her arms, small face pale, but still reached out wipe her tears. “My family originally happy perfect, but now all destroyed by my good best friend!” “These years she always kept unclear relationship with my husband, my husband even drank energy drink she sent, now even forgot own child!” “Everyone make friends must wipe eyes bright, absolutely don’t lead wolf into room like me!” Comment section all echoing sympathizing her, gifts swishing fly non-stop, she stepped on me forced livestream room to top hot search. Her mouth non-stop, started from college things, all way to marriage. Our experience these years all added oil added vinegar told by her. I angry trembling all over, couldn’t sit anymore immediately killed back to hospital. Watching her still livestreaming directly went up smashed her phone. “Ah! Why you smash my phone? Is it angry from shame…” Slap a slap fiercely fanned on her face. I looked at her hating iron not become steel, dead pinched her chin, roared: “Sober now? Not sober I beat you sober!” Every sentence I said, I slapped her once. Not a while her face fanned high swollen by me, teeth in mouth knocked off several. Until my wrist sour stopped, I panted few rough breaths, angrily took out phone smashed on bed beside her. “Idiot, listen yourself!” “Look what truth exactly is!”

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