Category: English

After eight years in France, I returned with three PhDs and was invited onto a popular reality TV job-seeking show. Sitting in the audience, a female boss examined my resume, then smiled confidently. “I also studied in France,” she announced. “What a coincidence. Shall I test you?” Without waiting for a reply, she switched to fluent French and asked a brief question. Her words left me speechless. In the silence, whispers spread through the audience. The woman, introduced as Victoria, laughed first. She turned to the camera with a theatrical sigh. “It seems some overseas students aren’t quite what they claim to be. But it’s understandable—buying a foreign degree is trendy these days. There’s a world of difference between that and a true top student like me, who studied under the great Professor Olivier.” The host joined in, mocking, “Ms. Scott, you didn’t even understand? We may have to question your credentials.” Amid the laughter, I stared at the smug boss, completely baffled. It wasn’t that I didn’t understand. Her French was a grammatical disaster. And the professor she’d just named? He was my mentor, who supervised my research for eight years. I’d never once heard him mention a student named Victoria. 1 The host’s face was a mask of undisguised glee as he waited for me to crumble. I couldn’t let this farce continue, and I certainly wasn’t going to let my eight years of hard work be questioned by someone who could barely string together a coherent sentence in French. Taking a calming breath, I ignored the host’s predatory grin and addressed Victoria directly, speaking in the flawless, standard French I had used for nearly a decade. “My apologies, but I’m afraid I didn’t understand your question.” “However, if you wish to discuss my professional background, I am a graduate of the Sorbonne University in Paris. My academic history, research focus, and publications are detailed in my resume. I welcome any specific questions you may have regarding them.” I thought that would, at the very least, steer the conversation back to the actual purpose of the show: finding a job. Instead, the moment the words left my mouth, Victoria let out a short, sharp laugh. “Ms. Scott, forgive my bluntness, but your French has a very… heavy accent. If you try to communicate like that in Paris, I’m afraid you’ll be a laughingstock.” “Furthermore,” she continued, warming to her theme, “your sentence structure and word choice are completely stilted. Honestly, there were parts of that I couldn’t even decipher.” Standing on that stage, I almost laughed out of sheer disbelief. A heavy accent? Stilted? In my eight years in France, from my bachelor’s to my doctorates, not a single person had ever commented on my accent. French had become a second native tongue to me. And even if my French were the most awkward, textbook-recited version imaginable, it was still leagues better than the word salad she had just produced. I opened my mouth to retort, but the host eagerly cut me off, casting a look of pity in my direction. “Alright, alright, let’s put the language debate aside for now.” “Ms. Scott, let’s talk about your field of study, shall we? As a media professional myself, I’m practically a colleague. I’m especially curious about how one earns a PhD in Film Directing.” I frowned, confused. My resume was crystal clear, my objective stated in black and white: “Venture Capital and Strategic Analysis.” Film directing was completely irrelevant. Was the host illiterate, or was this a deliberate trap? Though the question was a bizarre pivot, I nodded politely, intending to briefly explain that the directing degree was a personal passion project. The moment I nodded, however, the host pounced like a shark that smells blood. “Excellent! Since you’re such an expert in directing, why don’t you tell us about a cinematic masterpiece!” He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. “For example, tell us about Jean-Luc Godard’s classic, The 400 Blows.” I froze again, this time genuinely stunned. Had French film history been rewritten in the short time I’d been away? The sheer absurdity of the moment temporarily eclipsed my anger. After a moment’s hesitation, I decided to answer honestly. “I’m not familiar with a version of The 400 Blows directed by Godard. I have, however, seen his film Breathless, which I could discuss…” My words were cut off by the host’s exaggerated gasp. He stared at me, his eyes wide with theatrical shock. “You have a PhD in directing, and you haven’t seen it? How is that possible?” He turned to the audience, spreading his hands in a gesture of profound disappointment. “Ladies and gentlemen, I hate to be the one to call someone out on this stage, but Ms. Scott’s performance forces me to question just how much of her expertise is real!” “In fact,” he declared, his voice rising, “I’m beginning to question the authenticity of her degrees altogether!” Before I could defend myself, he signaled excitedly to a stagehand, who brought out the certified copies of my diplomas I had submitted. He passed them down to Victoria. “Victoria, you’re our resident authority on French education. Please, take a look at these and tell us what you make of Ms. Scott’s so-called doctorates!” Victoria accepted the documents, making a show of scrutinizing them for a long moment. A look of dawning comprehension spread across her face. “I don’t believe these can be considered graduation certificates,” she announced gravely. “The French higher education system is complex, you see. There are many short-term training courses. In my professional opinion, out of all these documents, perhaps only this one, the International Economics and Trade certificate, could be considered a real degree.” “The others,” she finished with a dismissive wave, “look more like certificates of completion from some vocational training program.” I couldn’t believe my ears. My official doctoral diplomas from the Sorbonne, one of the most prestigious universities in the world, were being dismissed as worthless pieces of paper from a trade school? The host fanned the flames, asking loudly and deliberately, “So, Victoria, in your view, what would Ms. Scott’s education be equivalent to here in our country? A bachelor’s degree, perhaps?” Victoria chuckled, the sound dripping with contempt. “A bachelor’s? Oh, no. I doubt it would even qualify as a proper community college degree. At best… a technical school certificate.” She fixed her gaze on me. “Ms. Scott, I have to ask, why would you bring these here to try and deceive us? You’re lucky I was here today. If none of the other bosses understood French education, you might have actually gotten away with it.” Her pronouncement sent a ripple of outrage through the other bosses on the panel. I could no longer contain my anger. “Victoria, you have absolutely no evidence to make such a malicious and defamatory claim about my education!” I shot back, my voice shaking with fury. “If you stand by that statement, I have no problem contacting my supervisor, Professor Olivier, and the administration at the Sorbonne right now. We can call them, live on camera, and verify my credentials!” At my forceful response, a flicker of unease crossed Victoria’s face. But the host saw it as a new opening. “Ms. Scott,” he said, his voice laced with condemnation, “you may not have learned much in the way of skills, but you certainly picked up the foreign habit of arguing senselessly. If you think Europe is so wonderful, why didn’t you stay there and get a high-paying job? Why come running back home to appear on our show?” His words struck me like a physical blow. He was trying to brand me as unpatriotic. If that label stuck, my job prospects wouldn’t just be damaged; my entire future in this country could be jeopardized. I forced myself to remain calm, meeting his malicious gaze head-on. “Where is that accusation coming from? I have never believed that things are better abroad. On the contrary, I chose to return precisely because I saw the incredible growth and energy here, a vitality that far surpasses what I saw in France.” “I believe my skills and knowledge can be of far greater value in my own country. That is how I choose to serve it.” I tried to keep my tone professional, but the host’s sneer was undisguised. “Is that so? Then why is it that throughout this entire conversation, I’ve felt a distinct chill coming from you?” He adopted a pained expression. “I rarely say things like, ‘I think our country is…’ It’s our home. Does it need such a formal, emphasized title? Your deliberate phrasing makes me question where your true loyalties lie.” A wave of helplessness washed over me. I gave up trying to follow his twisted logic and went straight for the flaw in his argument. “I’m not sure I follow. In a formal setting, isn’t using the country’s official name a sign of respect? It’s a common courtesy, just as I use formal titles when addressing you.” “Do you really refer to it as ‘my motherland’ in every single conversation? By your logic, is everyone who uses polite and formal language unpatriotic?” The host’s face tightened. He was clearly unprepared for me to turn his own absurd reasoning against him. He was momentarily speechless. After an awkward silence, he simply bulldozed past the point, shifting his attack to my attitude. “Ms. Scott, that tone you just used—there’s that chill again.” “From the moment you stepped onto this stage, you’ve approached every question with a kind of hostility. This is a job interview, not a debate competition!” I stared at him, incredulous. He was completely rewriting reality. From the very beginning, he and Victoria had been the ones setting traps, hurling insults, and dripping with aggression. “I honestly don’t know how to respond to that,” I said, my voice strained. “Perhaps you could enlighten me. Since I’ve been on this stage, how many of the questions you and Victoria have asked have had anything to do with my qualifications for a job?” “Aren’t you the ones who have been constantly interrupting me, questioning me, and trying to slander my name?” Seeing me challenge the show’s integrity, a flash of fury crossed the host’s eyes. He would not be questioned by a mere applicant. He suddenly raised his voice, drowning me out. “Alright! Ms. Scott, we have given you more than enough time! Your personal feelings are not the focus of this program! We have many other talented candidates waiting!” He turned to the panel. “And now, I ask our esteemed bosses to make their final choice for this… unprofessional overseas graduate!” Almost before he finished speaking, the lights on the bosses’ panels went out. One by one, with brutal, decisive clicks. The host turned back to me, a triumphant smirk plastered on his face. “What a shame, Ms. Scott. It seems no one is willing to make you an offer. Please exit the stage.” I left the studio in a daze, wondering if I had been insane to ever trust such a sham of a program. Fortunately, my actual qualifications and expertise spoke for themselves. I was soon hired by a top-tier international trade firm that dealt primarily with French markets. Within weeks, I had secured several major contracts, proving my worth with tangible results. The unpleasant memory of the show began to fade. Just as I thought the whole affair was behind me, a friendly colleague approached me, her face etched with concern. “Sophie,” she said, her voice full of sympathy. “You need to go online. Right now. I think… I think you’ve gone viral.”

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In the office, the boss was discussing with HR in Korean: “Let Vice President Willa resign voluntarily before International Women’s Day. It can save fifty dollars in holiday gifts.” “If she refuses to leave, block her reimbursements. Her grandfather has a tumor and needs money badly.” I clenched the contract in my hand. They didn’t know—I had taught myself Korean and had long reached level T5. Since they are so ruthless, I don’t need to be polite anymore. It’s time to take the core technology and start my own business… 1 After the morning meeting, I walked out of the boss’s office. Thinking back to how they discussed firing me in Korean right in front of me, treating me like a fool, they were probably still smug about tricking me, right? It’s laughable that they didn’t know I had already taught myself Korean to T5 level! I knew all their schemes. Passing by the break room, I suddenly heard people discussing me inside. “Director Lee from the tech department left to start his own business. Why didn’t he take Willa, whom he relied on the most?” “Why else? Willa has no ability and no value, right? The new company didn’t want her. Only our boss is kind enough to let her stay in the company and leech off.” Listening to the slander inside, anger rose in my heart, but I couldn’t refute it. Could I rush in and shout loudly: Director Lee invited me privately before he left, offering me a monthly salary of $5,000 and the position of tech director, but I rejected it? Then I heard them continue: “If she has no ability, why is she so aggressive every day? Daring to challenge the boss?” “That’s why she’s still single at 35. What man can stand her…” “Do you know what’s the funniest part? A few days ago, I heard from the HR director that Willa, a vice president, has been with the company for 6 years and her salary is only $1,500! Haha, the new employees I recruited this year have a monthly salary of $2,000.” $1,500? $2,000? Hearing this accidentally, I was furious. The company strictly prohibits employees from discussing salaries with each other. I have adhered to this rule for so many years, but I didn’t expect to be exploited by the boss to this extent! Thinking of the new employees in the tech department who knew nothing, only knew how to leech, yet had a higher monthly salary than me, a vice president, I couldn’t bear it anymore and wanted to rush to the boss’s office to question him. My angry steps suddenly stopped. After a long while, I sighed dejectedly and walked back to my desk with heavy steps. What’s the use of making a scene? The boss and directors had long suspected that I was a mole left by Director Lee and couldn’t wait to kick me out. But I didn’t want to leave this company. 2 Although I was ostracized after Director Lee left, and the boss cut my salary and suppressed me, this company had one advantage that other companies couldn’t match. Less than 500 meters east of here is the city’s most famous cancer hospital, where my grandfather is undergoing long-term treatment. It is the critical moment of treatment now, convenient for me to go over and take care of him after work. And I must ensure a fixed income, and I cannot let my grandfather know that I am about to lose my job, otherwise he will definitely refuse to accept the expensive treatment plan. This is why I didn’t leave with Director Lee when he invited me with a high salary. After Director Lee resigned, I took over the unfinished project team. From market research to planning to three sets of proposals, even the final event host script was written by me. The final draft submitted last week was unanimously approved by the board of directors. Once implemented, it can bring at least ten million in profit to the company. I thought these could win back the boss’s trust, and the value I created was enough to raise my salary partly. But today the boss discussed forcing me to resign with the HR director in Korean in front of me, just to save $50 in holiday fees! I have worked conscientiously for six years, bringing at least ten million in profit to the company, yet I don’t deserve a ridiculous $50! In that case, don’t blame me for being impolite. There are three days left before International Women’s Day, enough for me to prepare a big gift for them. Just as I was planning to counterattack the boss, I was called to the boss’s office again. “Willa, this is Dr. Zhao, who returned from overseas. He will be responsible for leading the overall work of the tech department in the future. He is not very familiar with our company yet, you have to cooperate with him well.” This is stealing my thunder! The project that no one was optimistic about after Director Lee left was thrown to me. I worked overtime alone for a month, and unexpectedly it passed the board’s decision and became the company’s leading project this year. Now that the plan is about to be implemented, I am suddenly kicked out and replaced? The boss spoke straightforwardly, not caring about my feelings at all, nor did he communicate with me, the vice president of the tech department, in advance. The grievances and exclusion I suffered in the past month surged into my heart instantly. I could endure their whispering and pointing behind my back, pretending not to know. I just played dumb when they created groups and established new R&D teams behind my back. They took away the planning proposal just passed, and I chose to swallow my pride seeing the situation was unclear. Now they are pushing their luck! Thinking I am a soft persimmon, they can manipulate me as they please, not treating me as a human at all. If this goes on, anyone can step on me. Losing power, my plan will be difficult to implement! 3 I said euphemistically: “Boss, since you think he is not familiar enough with the company, shouldn’t you not arrange him in the position of tech director?” “Technology leads the market! This is what you have emphasized repeatedly. The importance of the tech department is evident. Is it a bit trifling for you to let a 28-year-old young man who just came out of school be the tech director?” If the boss hired a tech director with qualifications far superior to mine from outside with a high salary, I would have nothing to say and step aside obediently. But Dr. Zhao is a novice, just because he is the boss’s nephew, he wants to stand on my head and dictate to me! Sorry, I can’t accept it! The boss was also annoyed by my questioning that didn’t give him face: “Little Zhao is a Ph.D. from Yale University, much more capable than you, a master from a domestic university! Little Zhao won many planning awards when he was still in school, with a flexible mind and extraordinary talent!” “I’m just notifying you about this, not asking for your opinion. Just cooperate well with the work! Get out.” I sneered. What gold content do school planning awards have? I also won a state-level design award during my school days. Anger surged, but after a while I held it back. For the plan in my heart, I can’t flip the table directly, can’t let the boss detect that he is about to lose all this. Yes, I didn’t plan to leave with resentment, but planned to make the boss and a group of parasites here get out in disgrace! Although I am not a top student from Harvard or MIT, my mentor is also a top figure in the field of food additives. Although retired, his students are everywhere. My senior fellow apprentice sister opened a food additive company—ZEUS, which became the industry leader with my mentor’s patented technology. It is the ZEUS Group President who is currently discussing acquisition with the boss. And I have long been promised by the senior sister to be the executive director of the branch company! Since the boss likes laying off staff before International Women’s Day so much, I will satisfy his last preference. Will he be very happy to receive the dismissal notice on International Women’s Day? 4 I stayed here to select talents for the establishment of the new company. Now this timing is suitable for me to see clearly the warmth and coldness of human feelings. Therefore, I absolutely cannot announce this news now. I pretended to compromise: “Boss, I have been with the company for 6 years, and I also led the planning of a big project this year. Can I get a raise?” The boss was stunned, seemingly not expecting me to make such a request: “Raise? Didn’t I raise your salary by $20 every year? Why didn’t I raise it for you this year? How did Little Liu handle things? Go call her!” Looking at the boss’s matter-of-fact look, I was angry enough to laugh. “Boss, you don’t think $20 a year is a lot, do you? Should I be grateful and devoted to you for this paltry sum?” “Don’t play dumb with me. Although it is strictly forbidden to inquire about other people’s salary income within the company, I still understand the general salary status of our food additive industry. I have been in the industry for 10 years and with you for 6 years. Asking for a salary of $2,500 is not excessive!” The boss laughed loudly: “$2,500? Based on you, an ordinary master’s student? Or based on you being the apprentice of a traitor? Weigh yourself piece by piece to see if you are worth this money! Do it if you want, get out if you don’t!” The boss’s straightforward “look down” made my face turn green and white. Dr. Zhao also looked me up and down with critical eyes. In their eyes, I seemed like a clown at this moment! I pretended to swallow my pride and left the office, but the boss misunderstood that I was afraid and laughed arrogantly behind my back. “Haha, still dare to clamor with me! Little Zhao, did you see? Dealing with such old employees requires being tough! A bunch of cowards who bully the weak and fear the strong!” “I suppressed her arrogance for you today. Arrange heavy and tiring work for her in the future. You just need to grasp the general direction! If she dares to disobey, tell me, I have plenty of ways to punish her!” “Just an old woman nobody wants. Her previous leader didn’t take her when he went out to open a company. I gave her a meal and she didn’t know how to be grateful, and dared to bark at me, humph!” Because of this scene, the whole company knew that I had become a marginalized person. Those who used to curry favor with me because of my outstanding ability retreated one after another, all pretending not to know me well, afraid of being implicated and leaving a bad impression in the boss’s heart. I sneered in my heart: A group of snobs! You tried every way to curry favor, but in the end your fate will be just like mine. Relationship hires can be parachuted in anytime! These people will not be within the selection scope of my new company. Just as I was sorting out the usual attendance and overtime records, finance suddenly called: “Little Wang, your reimbursement materials for last month are unqualified and cannot be reimbursed.” Little Wang? So I’m not Director Wang anymore? It seems that those hitting a person when they’re down have come. 5 Because of work reasons, the finance manager had many conflicts with me. Before, I was valued by the leadership and made him suffer many times. This time can be considered a turn of fortune. I took a deep breath and went to the finance office. “Manager Sun, where are the reimbursement materials unqualified? I’ll fix it.” The finance manager glanced at me and took my pile of reimbursement forms. “Logistics personnel do not have gas subsidies. Before, your tech department Director Lee abused his power and approved your gas fee reimbursement. From now on, everything will follow the rules and regulations, so this $50 gas fee cannot be reimbursed!” I said angrily: “This is the gas money I spent going to City K to deliver materials for the boss. It belongs to official business travel. Why can’t it be reimbursed?” The finance manager sneered: “You say it is, so it is? Who knows if you used the public car for private purposes?” I retorted: “I usually only ride an electric scooter to work! Besides, the key to the public car is in the administration’s hands. How do I have the chance to use it privately?” The finance manager threw the pile of reimbursement forms disdainfully. “I say it can’t be reimbursed means it can’t. If you have the ability, go find the boss to sign! Or… heh, your new tech director signing is also fine. Go back and fill out the reimbursement form again, hand it over before off work, no waiting after time!” After speaking, he looked at me mockingly, his eyes clearly saying: “I’m just making things difficult for you, what can you do to me? Who can you find to help you?” I went to find the boss angrily. Now the new company has not been established yet, and grandpa needs a large amount of medical expenses every day. Every penny of mine must be spent wisely. “Boss, please sign to reimburse the money for gas for my business trip last month.” The boss took the form and frowned: “What gas fee do you need to report? How come I don’t remember arranging a business trip for you?” I reminded him coldly: “Last Saturday of last month, I was accompanying my grandfather for chemotherapy in the hospital. You called me to immediately go to City K to deliver a document to the client! I drove there, and brought drunk you back at 12 am.” The boss suddenly realized: “Oh, there was such a thing.” Saying that, he picked up a pen and pretended to sign: “But Little Wang, I remember our company’s reimbursement rule is no overdue reimbursement, right? These are expenses from last month. Signing for you will make it difficult for finance.” I didn’t expect reimbursing a mere $50 expense would be so troublesome! At this moment, I completely gave up on this company and the boss, wishing to make him get lost immediately! The evidence I organized is enough to ruin his reputation. Presumably, he is still fantasizing about becoming a major shareholder of ZEUS Group, right? It doesn’t matter, there are three days left, I endure.

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After my mother passed away, I couldn’t move on for a long time. Until one day, I saw the diary she left behind. It read: “My dear daughter.” “If you don’t know how to live.” “Then let Mom help you one last time.” 1 After Mom passed away. I was listless for a long time. More than once, I wanted to jump off that mountain. But Mom was the wind before the mountain. Again and again, blowing me back to the safe zone. … At 1:00 AM, I arrived home. When I opened the door, Dad was the same as usual. Thumb and index finger weakly pinching a glass, pouring alcohol into his stomach. I couldn’t help but think, after Mom left. Besides me, the one who couldn’t move on was Dad. But neither of us learned how to hide our emotions. Just like now, he wanted to present the image of a playful dad welcoming his daughter home for the holidays. But what I saw was. A miserable man with tear streaks on his face, forcing a smile. He hung the corners of his mouth by his ears, smiling. Looking at me helplessly, waiting for a hug. I also forced a smile like him. Then put down my schoolbag, stepped forward, and hugged him tightly. He said: “Jenny, have you eaten?” “I’ll cook you a pack of noodles.” Saying that, he let go of me and went to the kitchen. Then reached out to open the top cabinet in the kitchen. I watched from afar; inside was a row of instant noodles. And by the induction cooker, there were a few wrappers and noodle crumbs. Thinking about it, all these days alone, he just made do like this. This is the first Christmas after Mom left. Too lonely, too bleak. Without her, we can’t live well at all. I couldn’t hold it back; tears dripped onto the floor like a faucet. And my dad seemed a bit drunk; not only did he not notice my emotions. He accidentally pulled down a stack of bowls and plates. The sound of shattering porcelain instantly scared my tears back. I ran to my dad; the back of his hand was scratched. Blood flowed onto… Flowed onto a diary. I was stunned. A diary? 2 My mom’s name was Connie. She graduated from elementary school. She knew quite a few words. But there were still typos. The names she noted in her contacts. Many were written phonetically. For example, Aunt Huiqin from the vegetable market. She wrote “Rotten Tree” (sounds like Huiqin in Chinese dialect, implying her vegetables are expensive). Aunt Xiuli from the supermarket. She wrote “Pig Heart” (sounds like Xiuli, noting she was fierce to Jenny, won’t buy from her again). Wang Guifang, whom she got along well with. She noted “Wang Beautiful” (Jenny likes her, I like her too). Every time I saw her contacts, I wanted to laugh. But every time I saw her note for me, I wanted to cry. She wrote: Jenny Miller “Connie’s Good Daughter” “My Favorite” At the very end, there were three little hearts. And now, I was holding a diary in my hand. It was all handwritten by her. On the cover was a paragraph. “To Jenny” “My dear daughter.” “If you don’t know how to live.” “Then let Mom help you one last time.” This diary was thick. I flipped through it roughly; every page was full. And the handwriting was very neat. No typos, no content crossed out by ink. She probably guessed that I always disliked messy notebooks. Naturally, I would like the diary to be clean and tidy too. So she secretly practiced for a long time. For a moment, my eyes stung unbearably. To control my emotions, I put the diary away. Then helped my dad to the living room. Bandaged his wound. 3 2:00 AM. My dad fell asleep in the living room. I lay in the bedroom. Never daring to open that diary. Finally, with no other way. I mimicked how Mom was when she was alive. Put on yellow rubber gloves, put on an apron. Cleaned the whole house from top to bottom. To distract myself. I remember, she did this every few days before Christmas. The sofa, she had to pull it out to clean the trash deep inside. Pots and pans, all had to be scrubbed. Bedding and covers, must change to clean, newly bought ones. She said new year, new atmosphere, everything must start anew. Whether annoying or happy. All left in the last year. The new year must welcome new changes. She also said. Whether sad or painful. Whether happy or lucky. We must accept it calmly. Everything must look forward. Yes. I have to accept the fact that she has left. After cleaning all this up. It was already morning. My dad hadn’t woken up yet. And I had already put on a thick coat and went to the supermarket. In previous years, Mom and I went to buy Spring Festival couplets (decorations) together. She always picked and chose, saying this meaning wasn’t as good as that one. Saying that one didn’t fit the artistic conception of next year. Every time, she would choose for half a day. But now, I stood in front of the grandpa selling couplets. Not knowing what to choose. They all looked the same. Glaring red. Especially the words “Family Reunion.” Even more glaring. Finally, just like I used to fudge my homework. Picked a pair randomly. After buying, I couldn’t help thinking of her again. This time with a bit of blame. I couldn’t help complaining in my heart. Look, Mom. I haven’t grown into an adult yet. Don’t even know how to choose couplets. Blame you, left too early. Didn’t have time to teach me. Later, when I walked around the market, I realized. Mom didn’t teach me more than just how to choose couplets. How to buy the sweetest watermelon in winter. How to buy the freshest vegetables in the market. How to bargain with those aunts and uncles. She didn’t teach me any of it. Even the fastest route home. She never mentioned it. Otherwise. Why is the road ahead getting blurrier the more I walk? 4 When I got home, Dad was still a bit hungover. He looked at me carrying big and small bags. Instantly sobered up. Without even putting on shoes properly, he took the things from my hands. After putting things away, he came back and stroked my hands frozen red with heartache. He said: “Blame me, drank too much again.” “Tired? Hungry? Daddy cook you a pack of noodles?” After speaking, guilt appeared in his eyes. I saw the corner of his mouth twitch. Then explained. “Sorry, Daddy only knows how to cook noodles.” I nodded. Yes. Dad only knows how to cook noodles and make money. Mom took care of us too well. So, after she left. Our sky. Collapsed. I shook my head, told Dad I ate at the market just now. Then went to the kitchen. Just like in the early morning. I picked up the apron. Imagining Mom’s appearance. Kneading dough. Chopping filling. Making dumplings. Trying to keep myself busy. Let myself forget the diary Mom left behind. That was my only thought. I wanted to wait for a solemn time to open it. Because it said. “To Jenny.” “My dear daughter.” “If you don’t know how to live.” “Then let Mom help you one last time.” I thought, I can’t disappoint Mom. I can’t let her know that I’m not living well. 5 (Note: Numbering restarted in source text, continuing sequentially here) But, I was a bit lousy. That solemn time. Came so lightly. After I failed to knead the dough countless times. I suddenly missed her like crazy. Why could she mix flour and water so harmoniously? While I made this pile of stuff look like rotten mud every time. Why could she do everything so well? And I can’t even knead dough. Do I not deserve to be her daughter? Should I be the one with cancer? Should that last diary be written by me? The more I thought, the more twisted my state of mind became. Until my eyes fell on the kitchen knife on the board. My red eyes widened instantly. Guess I was silent for a long time. My dad ran in. He came just in time. Blood hadn’t flowed too much yet. My consciousness was also clear enough. Could still hear him calling my name. Could also hear the sound of the ambulance. And. In a trance. I seemed to hear Mom say. “Silly child.” “Why so clumsy? Can’t even knead dough?” “Be good, Mom teach you.” 6 Yeah. Mom. I’m too clumsy. Come back and teach me. 7 The doctor pulled my dad to the hallway entrance. He said I had depression and suicidal tendencies. Then the doctor glanced at me guardedly. Pulled my dad into another room. They were discussing my condition. I imagined, would my dad collapse? Wife died of cancer. Daughter got depression. Would he find it harder to accept things? I imagined him crying and complaining in front of the doctor. But I suddenly couldn’t empathize. I only felt the birds outside the window were very free. I was a bit happy, then smiled. At dusk. I finally couldn’t bear the longing for her. Opened the first page of the diary. I was afraid, if I didn’t open it now. There would be no chance to open it.

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My mother was the neighborhood’s most celebrated stepmother. She treated my stepfather’s three children better than she ever treated me. It was a well-known fact. Once, when all four of us had the flu, she was so terrified of neighbor gossip that she only gave the medication to them, leaving me to suffer and shake it off on my own. She would smooth my hair back countless times, her eyes full of a pleading sadness. “Cass, being a stepmother is impossible. I can’t slight them, or the whole town will carve up my reputation.” “You understand your mother, don’t you?” I understood. So many times. And each time, I swallowed the humiliation down to the back of my throat, where it hardened into a stone. That stone finally cracked when we were caught in a torrential downpour and had to pull over to the side of the highway to avoid a ticket. Just like she always did, Mom told me to get out and wait for the rain to let up. I stood frozen. I couldn’t move, and she knew why. After my stepbrother Garrett hit me while reversing his truck, my leg had been permanently damaged. I couldn’t walk for more than half an hour without searing pain. Mom’s patience snapped. She yanked me by the arm, dragging me out of the vehicle. “Don’t be stubborn, Cass! Try to be reasonable for once!” “Find a spot to take cover. Wait for the rain to stop and then hurry home.” I stood paralyzed in the deluge. This house, this life, wasn’t what I wanted. The downpour didn’t stop. The street water had already risen to my knees. I stumbled again and again into the deep puddles. The city streetlights cast a blurry, weak glow on the pitch-black night. “Cass?” 1 “Cass?” As I fell into the churning water yet again, Mom—umbrella in hand—sprinted toward me. She was always like this. I couldn’t bring myself to fully love her. But I couldn’t bring myself to fully hate her either. Her small frame looked like a scrap of paper in the wild wind, and she was nearly blown over into the floodwater. Rain smeared my vision. It wasn’t until she reached my side that her face and voice snapped into clear focus. She struggled to pull me from the slick, icy water, recognizing the resentment etched on my face. With a familiar, weary sigh, she began her usual lecture. “I know you’re upset. But what choice do I have, honey?” “You’re my biological daughter. They’re not. If I show even the slightest bit of unfairness to them, the whole world will know. How am I supposed to live with that judgment?” “I know you’ve suffered. I’m so sorry.” Her voice cracked on the last two sentences. It was heavy with the frustration of being misunderstood and the inescapable burdens of a stepmother. I said nothing. She helped me hobble back to that house. The dinner table held only scraps and cold leftovers. Even the ginger tea Mom had made to ward off my cold had been entirely consumed. Worse, they had poured the last bit into the cat’s bowl, just to make sure none was left for me. My two stepsisters, Brielle and Delaney, and my stepbrother, Garrett, never liked me. To my face, they were vaguely polite, mostly indifferent. But behind my back, they called me a pathetic leech, a tolerated guest, only fit to be their cleaning lady—less important than the furniture. They didn’t particularly like my mother either, but they reveled in all the concessions she made for them. My stepfather, Malcolm Shaw, sat in the living room watching TV. He didn’t spare either of us a glance, only offering a perfunctory, “You’re back.” He was always polite to me—no fighting, no yelling, no questions asked. He treated me like a distant relative, an acquaintance. But my mother loved him. She loved him fiercely. Even through all the compromises and suffering, she saw it as the necessary friction of building a happy family. Her love for him was why she’d divorced my biological father, giving up everything and taking me with her, the moment she learned Malcolm’s first wife had passed. She always said Malcolm was her first love. If not for her parents’ disapproval, their romance wouldn’t have been so tumultuous. Her deep, enduring love for him was the reason she went to such extremes for his three children. Mom helped me into the bathroom to take a hot shower. She brought me a glass of hot water. My stomach was rumbling. I was about to open my mouth and say, Mom, I’m starving. But she spoke first. “It’s late, Cass. Drink this water to settle your stomach. Your sister, Delaney, has terrible anxiety and her room is right next to the kitchen.” “She can’t tolerate the slightest noise. I’ll wake up early tomorrow and make breakfast.” The words died on my tongue. Since becoming a stepmother, she was a master at considering every single person in the house. Except me. 2 Her devotion to her role, her fear of being judged, dictated everything. I had been accepted to a prestigious state university. But Brielle cut off the celebration with a single demand: “None of us went to college. If Cass goes, we each deserve to be compensated for what we missed out on. You owe us all a college fund payout.” “Otherwise, we’ll know you, the stepmother, are playing favorites!” It didn’t matter that my tuition didn’t require Malcolm’s money. Mom’s salary alone was enough to cover my schooling. But for the sake of “fairness,” and because she couldn’t afford Brielle’s demand, she came to me weeping, begging: “Cass, you’re so smart. You’ll make it even without a degree.” “You love writing, don’t you? Why not try writing your novel full-time? Maybe that’s your best path.” That was the first time I truly fought back. I broke down, screaming until my voice was raw: “They didn’t go to college because they weren’t smart enough to get in!” “Why can’t I use my own mother’s money to go? Even if you won’t help, I can take out student loans!” But no matter how much I pleaded, Mom only cried with that same helpless, defeated expression. She even fell to her knees, hitting herself across the face. That was when I learned Delaney’s cat had shredded my acceptance letter. Mom begged me not to make a scene, pleaded with me not to tear apart the fragile family unity she’d fought so hard to build. I never made it to college. And not long after, I lost my chance at a future, and I lost my leg. Even when Garrett, driving without a license, reversed right into me and shattered my leg, she wouldn’t let me report it. She was terrified I’d make a big deal of it, that Garrett would go to jail, and that her perfect family would crumble. She threatened to kill herself if I called the police. She called this family her entire life, claiming Garrett was practically her own flesh and blood. If he went to prison because of me, she said, not only would he hate her, but it would destroy her relationship with Malcolm. After that final, crushing despair, I realized the absolute truth: she wasn’t their stepmother. She had utterly and completely become mine. The next day, I woke up with a bad cold and a spiking fever. My limbs were weak and heavy. Mom briefly checked on me early in the morning. She hastily put a hot mug of milk and a omelette egg on my nightstand. Seeing how high my fever was, she added a bottle of Advil. She was in such a rush. So rushed that she didn’t even look me in the eye when she spoke. “Cass, I’m heading to work now. Try to sleep it off. The fever will break soon. The house is on you.” I was the only “idle” one at home. Since the accident, being disabled meant I couldn’t find a suitable job. So, aside from writing my novels, I was in charge of the entire family’s cooking, cleaning, and laundry. Around noon, my phone pinged with messages. In the family group chat, Delaney messaged first, tagging me: Hey, little sis. I’m craving those stuffed bell peppers tonight. Five minutes later, Brielle tagged me: Cassidy, can you make that roasted chicken dish? The one you made last time was actually decent. Half an hour after that, Garrett tagged me: Little sis, can you make the pot roast? And throw in a couple of side salads. Thanks. Working hard. He followed the message with a digital payment. It was always five dollars and an emoji—a measly amount that was meant to feel like a handout. This time, I knew it would be the same. I didn’t collect the money. I didn’t reply to anyone. After spending the morning researching urban areas, I booked the cheapest train ticket I could find to Riverton, a city three states away. The departure date was three mornings from now. I spent the entire afternoon writing a final, long letter to my mother. With every word I wrote, the bonds of family pulled at my heart, making my eyes sting with unshed tears. 3 When night fell, my fever spiked again. I huddled under my blankets, shivering uncontrollably. At some point, the front door opened. A torrent of complaints immediately flooded the small apartment. “Why is it pitch black in here? Is Cass not home?” “What time is it? The kitchen is cold and empty. No dinner made.” “What is this, a strike? Who managed to piss off the little princess this time?” Mom and Malcolm had returned. The complaints from the three siblings grew louder and more frantic. “I worked all day! I’m exhausted, and I can’t even get a hot meal!” “What is her problem? If she doesn’t want to do it, she should just say so!” “Isn’t she supposed to be a part of this family? We all have jobs! It’s her responsibility. She can’t even manage dinner!” Delaney’s voice suddenly grew shrill and furious: “The laundry isn’t done! The clothes aren’t washed, not even the delicates! You can’t leave underwear sitting that long; it’s unsanitary! Mom, you need to talk to your daughter! What is she trying to do?” “I just bought that new lace thong—thirty dollars—and only wore it once. Now how am I supposed to wear it?” Mom, ever the peacemaker, tried to soothe them with her usual soft voice: “Cass didn’t do it on purpose. She’s probably not feeling well. I’ll go check on her.” Malcolm also offered a performative, conciliatory line: “Alright, everyone, calm down.” Mom hurried into my cramped room. When she flipped the light switch, the sudden, harsh glare illuminated the dark room. I was still lying there, semiconscious from the fever. “Cassidy, what’s going on? Are you not feeling well?” Beneath her concern, I could hear a definite tone of accusation. She pulled back the blanket from my head and instinctively reached out to check my temperature. “You’re running a fever again. Did you take the medicine?” “Yes,” I answered flatly. Garrett’s voice carried clearly from the doorway: “Mom, what are we eating tonight? I’m starving.” The flicker of worry on Mom’s face vanished as she rushed to appease him: “What do you want? I’ll make it right now.” Brielle grumbled, “It’s already so late. We’ll be eating dinner at midnight if you cook now.” Mom quickly offered a placating suggestion: “Tell you what. How about we all go out for barbecue? Garrett, didn’t you say you were craving brisket? My treat tonight.” The tension in the air evaporated instantly. They all cheered up, eager to drag Mom out to a restaurant. Malcolm gave a token gesture of concern: “Cass, are you going to join us?” Delaney’s voice was dripping with passive aggression: “She’s not feeling well, is she? Sick people usually don’t have an appetite. If she wants to go out for barbecue, it means she’s faking it.” And so, I was abandoned again. An outsider. Unsuitable for their family dinner. My tears, uncooperative, soaked the pillow again. My mind couldn’t help but flash back to ten years ago, before Mom remarried, to the way she loved me then. She used to hold me in her palm, terrified of dropping me. She kept me so close, afraid I would melt away. I had to face the reality. She was no longer just my mother. They returned after eating their fill. My stomach ached from hunger, and I was curled up beneath my covers. Mom placed a mug of milk on my nightstand again. Perhaps anticipating my anger, she spoke in a soft, coaxing tone, like one might use for a difficult child: “Once you’re better, I’ll take you out for barbecue too.” It was always wait, wait, wait. Brielle fed the dried strawberries I bought to the dog; she said she’d buy me more next time. Delaney took the dress I saved my meager earnings to buy and wore it without asking; she said she’d buy me a replacement next time. Garrett took the laptop I bought for my writing and used it for gaming; he promised me a new one next time. But, Mom, your “next time” was always a hollow lie. 4 I didn’t speak. She reached through the blanket and gently stroked my head. “My own daughter is the best. You always understand me. My Cass, you’re so mature.” She paused, sighing with a sense of noble suffering: “Being a stepmother is so hard. I’m truly relieved you understand.” But for every ounce of relief you felt, Mom, I felt an equal measure of heartache. Two days later, my fever finally broke. I felt well enough to move. Tomorrow, I would be leaving. I looked at the few, old clothes in my closet. I realized I didn’t have much to pack. It was the weekend, and they were all home. They were in the living room, discussing Garrett’s impending wedding. I didn’t join them, but I sensed the heavy atmosphere. Malcolm was saying, “The down payment for the new house is at least sixty thousand. Your mother and I barely have enough saved to cover it.” “The ring and the dowry gifts are another forty thousand. You three are siblings, you should pitch in and help.” Brielle spoke up first: “I don’t have much saved up. I can only manage five thousand.” Delaney reluctantly followed: “I only have five thousand, too.” Then, she deliberately raised her voice, directing it toward my room: “Don’t we have a writer in the house? Tapping away at her keyboard all day. I’m sure she’s sitting on plenty of cash.” Her tone was utterly sarcastic. She was the one who previously mocked me, saying my writing income wasn’t even enough to pay for my cat food. Mom, swayed by her words, came into my room, tears welling up in her eyes. “Cass, being a stepmother is hard. I have to help Garrett with his wedding. You’re his sister, and we’re family.” “Could you spare some of your royalty money? We can consider it a loan. Please?” Every time she used my money to bail out the three of them, she called it a loan. She never paid it back. “I don’t have much in royalties. It’s barely two thousand a month, and it’s not stable. It’s barely enough for me.” “Little sis, we’re family. Stop hiding it. I don’t believe you only make two thousand a month. Unless you show us your accounts.” Brielle had materialized, leaning against the door frame. Malcolm and the others followed, their eyes all fixed on me, judging. To appease them, Mom looked me in the eye and demanded: “Show me your accounts.” To finally shut them down, I logged into my bank account and my publishing dashboard, showing them the numbers. Once they confirmed my income was indeed pitifully low, their eyes filled with scorn. Delaney jeered: “You don’t have the talent to make a living as a writer. Honestly, you’re just dreaming in broad daylight!” Since I was leaving permanently tomorrow, I didn’t waste my breath arguing. They went back to discussing Garrett’s finances. In the end, Mom and Malcolm decided to take out a twenty-thousand-dollar loan to bridge the gap. Next was the issue of the wedding jewelry. Mom went to a cabinet and pulled out the vintage gold bracelet my biological father had left me. She also took out a small, two-ounce gold ingot. My father had given them to me when I was thirteen. Mom had told me I was too young and promised to keep them safe until I was an adult. But now, she said: “We’ll take these to be traded for the new jewelry. Gold prices are high right now. Buying them new is too expensive.” A furious heat instantly rose in me. I scrambled forward to grab them back. “That’s what my father left me! You have no right to give my property to him!” Mom was stunned by my reaction and chastised me with an annoyed tone: “I’ll buy you new ones later, Cass. Your brother’s wedding is an emergency, a huge deal!” She didn’t give the gold back, handing it directly to Garrett. She rushed him: “Go trade these now! Hurry!” I lunged to snatch them back, but Mom pinned me down. “Cassidy Jennings, will you please just be sensible!” I completely shattered. All the stored-up resentment erupted into pure rage. I screamed at her through my tears: “You are not their stepmother, Elaine! You are mine!” “I hate you. If you give my father’s things to him today, you won’t have a daughter anymore!” Mom froze. Then, a heavy slap landed across my cheek, followed by a roar of pure fury: “Get out! Get out and never come back!” I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed my laptop bag and limped out the door. Behind me, I heard her final attempt to control me: “If you walk out that door, you’re never coming back!” She didn’t know: that was exactly my plan. It took three days for Mom to lose her composure and call my phone. The only reply was the standard “this number is out of service” message. She instantly panicked. At that moment, Malcolm rushed into the house, frantic: “There’s a girl hit by a car down at the complex entrance! They can’t make out her face, but she’s a—she’s on crutches, and everyone is saying it’s Cass! You need to go check, right now!”

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1 I was at the airport to pick up my husband when I ran into him: Preston Zhou, the man who’d left me at the altar two years ago to go see elephants in Africa with his adoptive sister. Even with my sunglasses on, he spotted me in the crowd instantly. “Arabella, I’m back. I’m here to marry you.” I feigned a moment of confusion. “I’m sorry, you are…?” He let out a weary, indulgent smile. “Come on, don’t be mad at me. I didn’t mean to run out for so long. After Mary saw the elephants, she wanted to do a whole photography project. She’s the only sister I’ve got, I had to spoil her a little.” “But look,” he said, spreading his arms wide, “the two-year shoot is done, and I came straight back to fulfill our engagement!” It was only then, seeing the flash of his startlingly white teeth against his sun-darkened skin, that I recognized the gaunt, skinny man in front of me. It was my ex-fiancé. Except… did no one tell him? The day he jilted me was the day I married his uncle. … The airport terminal was a river of people. Preston pushed a luggage cart with one hand while the other clutched a Chanel bag. Mary, several shades darker herself, was perched on top of a suitcase, letting Preston wheel her around. After two years in Africa, they looked less like they’d been on safari and more like they’d been working in a coal mine. They were both positively grimy. The Preston I remembered had been handsome, fair-skinned, and in great shape. Otherwise, I never would have agreed to the arranged marriage. But this version of him… Thank God he wasn’t my husband. I slid my sunglasses off and offered a polite, distant smile. “My apologies. It’s been a long time. You’ve both changed so much, I didn’t recognize you for a moment.” Mary, as always, dripped with sarcasm. “Don’t pretend you don’t recognize him. You’re obviously here to pick Preston up, aren’t you?” she sneered. “If we hadn’t tossed our SIM cards and cut off all contact with home, you probably would have chased us all the way to Africa!” She huffed and turned her head away. “I really don’t know what he sees in you. A woman who’s nothing but a pretty face.” Preston just ruffled her hair and tapped her nose with a fond, exasperated sigh. “Once Arabella and I are married, she’ll be your sister-in-law. You need to show her some respect. Otherwise, I won’t take you to Europe for your art tour next year.” After placating Mary, he turned to me with an explanatory smile. “She’s just got a childish temper. You know her father, my uncle’s driver, died in the car crash that almost killed me. He saved my life, but she lost her dad.” “When we’re married,” he continued, his tone earnest, “we’ll be a team. I hope you can help me look after her. Treat her like your own sister.” Did he hear the absolute nonsense coming out of his own mouth? I gave him an elegant eye-roll and flashed the wedding band on my left hand. “Preston, I can’t thank you enough for jilting me. It allowed me to marry a man a thousand times better than you. And please, don’t flatter yourself. I’m here today to pick up my husband.” Preston froze. He squinted at me for a long moment, then a smirk spread across his face. “Arabella, do you take me for a fool?” he scoffed. “Our families arranged this marriage. The wedding two years ago was the event of the season, the whole of the city’s elite was there. Everyone knows you’re my fiancée. I was wrong to run off and embarrass you, I admit it. But with your reputation ruined, what other family would possibly have you?” So that was it. The reason he’d felt so comfortable abandoning me was because he was sure I’d be a social pariah, a “jilted woman” with no choice but to take him back. He had seriously overestimated himself. And underestimated me. To clean up his son’s mess, the Zhou family patriarch had lost a son and a significant portion of company shares. To appease my family’s fury, the old man had offered to transfer the shares originally meant for Preston directly to me. Clearly, Preston had no idea. It made sense. He’d spent two years completely off the grid for Mary, not even a single phone call home. Of course he was out of the loop. I almost couldn’t wait for him to get back to the family estate tonight. I wondered if he’d still be smiling then. 2 When our marriage was first proposed, Preston had fought it tooth and nail. But the moment he met me, it was supposedly love at first sight, and he declared he would marry no one else. He pursued me shamelessly for over half a year. Seeing that he was clean-cut and didn’t play around, I finally agreed. Not long after, Mary, his new adoptive sister, entered the picture, and he treated her like a princess. On our wedding day, Preston got a call from her. “Preston,” she’d wailed, “remember your promise? To take me to Africa to see the elephants? I’m at the airport waiting. If you don’t come, I’ll jump off the terminal roof!” Preston had given me one apologetic look, dropped my hand without a second thought, and sprinted away, leaving me and a ballroom full of guests behind. I received two texts from him, and then his phone went dead. [Her father saved my life. Mary is his only daughter. I can’t let anything happen to her!] [Don’t worry. I’ll be back as soon as she sees the elephants. A week at most. We’ll finish the wedding and then go to the Maldives for our honeymoon.] The Zhou patriarch was incandescent with rage. To make it up to my family, he’d made me a promise. “Arabella, this is our family’s failure. Name your compensation, anything you want!” I had pointed to his youngest son, the current head of the Zhou family enterprise, Damian Zhou. “Then give me him,” I’d said. “This wedding is still short one groom.” And just like that, I married Preston’s uncle. Lost in thought, I glanced at the time. Damian’s flight should have landed by now. Just as I was about to check, a message popped up on my phone. [Sweetheart, flight’s delayed. Just boarded. Going to be very late. Don’t wait for me, just have Leo pick me up.] [Love you.] A huge heart emoji followed. A small smile touched my lips, and the tension in my brow eased. Even looking at my infuriating ex-fiancé-turned-nephew became a little more tolerable. Preston crossed his arms, a mocking smile playing on his lips as he eyed my phone. “Oh, who’s the actor you hired? ‘Hubby’? Flight delayed? Really creative.” He leaned in closer. “Arabella, don’t joke like that. You know I get jealous.” As he reached out to tuck a stray strand of my hair behind my ear, I took a sharp step back. His hand froze in mid-air. “I told you, I’m married. If you continue to harass me, you might find yourself with a broken leg when you get home tonight.” Preston laughed as if I’d told the funniest joke. He pointed to my neck. “That emerald pendant you’re wearing… Grandfather said that was to be passed down to the Zhou family brides. You’re wearing it right now and still trying to tell me you married someone else?” The pendant was indeed a gift from the patriarch. Except it wasn’t for his granddaughter-in-law. It was for his daughter-in-law. “I married—” Before I could finish, Mary interrupted. “Is that the Phoenix Emerald?” She hopped off the luggage cart and wedged herself between us. The moment she saw the pendant around my neck, her eyes reddened. She grabbed Preston’s arm, her voice trembling. “Preston, I’ve wanted that pendant for so long. Grandfather would never even let me touch it, and now he’s given it to an outsider. Does… does he not even think of me as part of the family?” Her voice cracked. “But what can I do? I’m just a driver’s daughter. I can’t compare to a blue-blooded heiress like Arabella. Even Grandfather plays favorites.” Preston’s face softened with guilt. He looked at me, a pleading expression in his eyes. “Mary’s young, and she’s had a hard life. She’s always insecure. Just… let her have this one.” “She likes the pendant, so give it to her. I’ll buy you a new one, imperial green jade, I promise. It’ll be even more beautiful, much better quality.” 3 I laughed. An actual, honest-to-god laugh of disbelief. “Preston, I suggest you get your head checked. If I remember correctly, Mary is twenty-five this year. A few months older than me, isn’t she?” “There are two things I can’t stand in this world: giant babies and manipulative little thieves who steal other people’s things. Coincidentally, she’s both.” At my words, Mary’s eyes welled up, tears streaming down her face on command. “Preston will spoil me no matter how old I am! You’re just jealous!” she shrieked. “You haven’t even married him yet! What right does an outsider like you have to wear a Zhou family heirloom? You’re the shameless one!” Technically, Mary was the family’s ward, but she had never been formally adopted, nor was her name in the official family records. Strictly speaking, she was the outsider living in the Zhou home. Preston had once thrown a tantrum, demanding she be made a true Zhou heiress, but the patriarch had flatly refused. Preston had felt guilty about it ever since. Seeing her cry now, his heart ached. He frowned at me. “Mary isn’t like you. She has no parents, only me. Grandfather wouldn’t let her be formally adopted, that’s why she’s so insecure…” I cut him off with a suggestion. “You want her in the family records? That’s easy.” “Marry her. If you do, I will gladly give her this pendant as a wedding gift. As the bride of a Zhou grandson, she would finally deserve to wear it.” I unclasped the emerald from my neck and held it out to Mary. Her eyes went wide with shock, then filled with an unconcealable, ecstatic glee. She reached for it immediately. “Don’t!” Preston snatched the pendant from my hand, his fist closing tightly around it. “What nonsense are you talking about? Mary is just… she’s my sister. You’re the one I want to spend my life with!” His gaze was intense, pleading. “You can be jealous of anyone, but not her.” “She is my family. You are my love. Stop saying things you don’t mean. Anymore of this, and I’ll actually get angry.” Being stared at by those supposedly deep, soulful eyes didn’t move me in the slightest. In fact, it made me want to gag. Done with the conversation, I turned and walked away, ignoring Preston’s voice calling after me. As I stepped out of the terminal, a discreet black Maybach pulled up to the curb. The driver, Leo, got out and opened the door for me. “Ma’am. Sir said he’ll be late and asked me to pick him up later. Should I take you home first?” Damian had been on a business trip for half a month. The patriarch knew he was returning today and had arranged for a family dinner at the estate. Suddenly, someone pushed past me and slid into the car. Mary settled into the leather seat and smirked. “I thought you were married? Still mooching rides from the Zhou family? Shouldn’t you be taking your husband’s car?” Mary recognized the Maybach. It belonged to Preston’s uncle, Damian. Preston recognized it too, and a flattered look crossed his face. After all, his uncle rarely bothered with such trivial matters. He sat down next to Mary, buckled her seatbelt, and then turned to me. “You can sit in the front. Mary’s used to sitting next to me. I’ll have the driver drop you at your family’s home first.” “No need. I have my own car. Leo, just take them to the estate. I have other plans.” I pulled out my keys and hit the unlock button. Across the lot, the headlights of a Lamborghini Veneno flashed twice. As I drove away in the supercar, I saw a flash of raw envy in Mary’s eyes. Preston sighed dramatically. “She came all this way just to pick me up. She must be angry I didn’t ride with her.” Then he turned to the driver. “Did my uncle send you to get me?” Leo answered truthfully. “No, sir. I was sent to pick up my boss.” The air in the car hung thick and silent for a few seconds. “…What a coincidence,” Preston finally said. “Where is my uncle, then?” “His flight was delayed.” I treated myself to a spa day, and then, seeing it was almost dinnertime, I drove to the family estate. The moment I got out of the car, I saw two figures kneeling ramrod straight at the main gate like a pair of wooden posts. Apparently, when Leo had dropped them off, the patriarch had heard it was Preston and Mary, and he’d thrown his cane in a rage and refused to let them in the door. “Get out! Why didn’t you just die in Africa? What did you come back for?” Preston, banking on his grandfather’s soft heart, had dropped to his knees at the gate. Mary, to show solidarity, knelt beside him. When he saw me, Preston scrambled to his feet, his dejected expression vanishing, replaced by a triumphant glow. “I knew it. I knew you couldn’t stay away.” His voice was filled with smug satisfaction. “Did you hear Grandfather was punishing me and rush right over?” I turned my face away in annoyance and tried to walk around him. He blocked my path again, his face a mask of faux concern. “Don’t go in. Grandfather’s still furious. I’m afraid he’ll take it out on you.” Mary had somehow appeared at his side. She pointed a finger at my nose. “You’re still holding a grudge because Preston left you for me, aren’t you?” she accused. “You’re the one who stirred this up! Grandfather adores Preston, he would never refuse to let him in!” “You just came here to laugh at us!” With a shriek, she lunged at me. I sidestepped, and she went sprawling, landing face-first on the gravel. Mary lay on the ground, her knee scraped and bleeding, tears instantly flooding her eyes. Preston’s lips thinned. The smile vanished from his face as he knelt to check her injury. Seeing it wasn’t serious, he scooped her up in a practiced princess-carry and cooed at her until her sobs turned into a watery smile. Only then did he remember me. He sighed. “Arabella, I hardly recognize you anymore.” His voice was laced with disappointment. “Mary never means what she says. If you’re going to marry me, you have to learn to be more forgiving.” “For now, just apologize to her and we’ll forget it. But in the future, I hope you’ll try to change that temper of yours.” What? My vision went dark for a second. “Should I offer some compensation, too?” I asked, my voice dripping with ice. “To soothe her fragile, glass-like heart?” A flicker of greed crossed Mary’s face. “I could use a new run-around car. That one you were driving today was… barely acceptable.” A Lamborghini Veneno. One of only three in the world. Worth twenty-three million dollars. The sheer audacity of it. Preston, of course, made the decision for me. “Since Mary likes it, just give it to her. Consider it compensation for her injury.” I stared at him. “When pigs fly.” “What?” he said, not understanding the idiom. “I said, not a chance in hell!” I shoved him aside and walked straight towards the house. “Stop right there!” Preston, realizing he’d been played, turned beet red. “Arabella, I’m telling you right now,” he threatened, his voice sharp with fury. “If you don’t apologize to Mary, you can forget about marrying me! You won’t take a single step into the Zhou family home!” WHACK! Suddenly, a dragon-headed cane flew through the air and connected squarely with Preston’s skull. From several yards away, the patriarch’s voice, clear and booming with rage, echoed for all to hear. “You little bastard! That’s your aunt!”

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I discovered my boss has a “split personality” that turns him from a ruthless CEO into a seductive nightclub host. Taking advantage of the fact that his “second personality” doesn’t know me, I book him every time I go to the club. To thank him for his “hard work” at night, I bring him homemade lunches during the day. This “night shift, day feed” arrangement worked perfectly until I went home with him and saw two identical men standing there… Boss: “Say hi to your sister-in-law.” The “Other Boss”: “Bro, you mean say hi to my girl.” Me, shocked and greedy: “Calling me sister-in-law by day and your girl by night isn’t impossible…” 1 After getting roasted by my toxic boss for “working without a brain” and “leaving faster than anyone,” I did exactly as he wished: I clocked out the second the clock struck five. I sprinted to the bar to start the 99th “I Hate My Job” conference of the month with my best friend, Chloe. “He says I’m lazy? Ha! Hard work costs extra.” “You get what you pay for. I’m gonna show this company what ‘cheap labor’ really means!” “I just want his money, but he wants my life.” “Slave away for pennies… I just want to be a trophy wife.” … As I vented, the bar’s atmosphere hit its peak. Hearing Chloe’s excited gasp, I followed her gaze to the center stage. Three men were dancing, but the one in the center—wearing a silver mask, a crisp white shirt, and messy-chic hair—was captivating. Every move, every glance, that waist… I gulped. “My morals are hanging on by the thread of my poverty.” Chloe: “I can’t imagine how morally bankrupt I’d be if I were rich.” True that. Me: “How much to book that guy?” Chloe: “A grand, at least?” “…” Poverty keeps us honest. I withdrew my gaze, drank my cheap beer, and accepted my fate as a corporate slave. At the bar, I only order the most cost-effective draft. Twenty-three years old, enjoying a twenty-four-year-old’s mediocre life. Damn this world! A few rounds later, the dancers had mingled into the crowd. My eyes unconsciously searched for the boy in the white shirt. He was sitting on a sofa nearby. Surrounded by people with bad intentions. The innocent boy was having his chin grabbed, alcohol forced down his throat. He looked reluctant but helpless. His eyes, glassy and unfocused, met mine. That look of vulnerability made my heart skip a beat. The romance novels I read in high school suddenly made sense. So this is the POV of the CEO seeing the poor heroine being bullied! I downed another beer, slammed the bottle, and stood up! Alcohol courage. Chloe grabbed me: “How much money you got? How much face you got?” In times like this, if you don’t have fists, you need cash. I sighed: “I’m at the age where I have to spend money.” “I don’t have a rich girl’s life, but I have a rich girl’s disease. I can’t stand bullying.” I walked over, feeling like a billionaire. Getting closer, I heard them jeering, telling the poor guy to shake for them. “Outrageous!” Man, I’m here to save you! I pushed through the crowd and saw them touching him. His shirt was messy, tie crooked. He looked at his tormentors pleadingly: “Sir, I can’t drink anymore.” This scene triggered both my protective instincts and my… baser instincts. He’s so good! Right now, he shouldn’t be in this dirty bar! He should be at my apartment at 21 Oak Street! I slapped a card on the table, channeling my inner CEO: “I’ll take him!” Later, Chloe told me I slapped my driver’s license on the table, was met with deafening silence, and then dragged him away after paying $250 cash from my wallet. Back in our booth, I sat on the sofa, feeling like a god: “You… belong to me for this hour.” “With me here, no one dares touch you.” Chloe: “…” Novel dialogue really works in real life? The boy took off his mask and rubbed his flushed face: “Thank you, sister.” The music changed, the lights brightened. I swirled my drink pretentiously: “No need…” Before I could finish “to thank me,” I saw his face. It was Caleb Vance. My boss. The slave driver. “Holy shit! Caleb Vance?!” The hand I had just placed on his thigh recoiled as if burned. I went from CEO to corporate dog instantly: “B-Boss, what a… nice hobby you have here haha…” My brain short-circuited. I was already drafting my resignation letter. I work to make money for him, and now I’m spending money on him? The iron-faced boss moonlighting as a seductive host? I’m gonna die. Even Chloe sat up straight, like she was meeting a parent. The “host” pointed at himself innocently: “Huh? Are you talking to me?” I suspected he was drunk. Me, trembling: “You don’t know me?” Him: “Should I know you, sister?” He tilted his head, puppy eyes staring at me, drunk but not drunk. Setting everything aside… isn’t he kinda wrong for this? Chloe nudged me: “Is he really your boss?” Must be! I might not recognize my own mother, but I’d recognize my boss even if he turned into ash! But he denied it: “My name is Flynn. Not whatever Caleb Vance boss you’re talking about.” “Sister, I’m Flynn. Like… free as a bird.” “If I were a boss, why would I be working here?” He looked down, pitifully: “To be honest, I’m poor. My family is struggling. I have a disabled brother to take care of.” Chloe whispered: “Gambling dad, sick mom, disabled brother, and broken him.” Me: “…” He denied being Caleb again. I mustered the courage to grab his chin and examine his face. His eyelashes fluttered, eyes misty, cheeks flushed. Just as I was about to be bewitched by his fragility, I saw the red string necklace. His mom got it for him at a temple. It is Caleb Vance! I shuddered and let go of his face like it was hot iron. He turned his head defenselessly, looking like I’d slapped him. Chloe mused: “CEOs usually have issues… stomach problems, insomnia… maybe your boss is so stressed he developed a split personality?” That would explain a lot. Otherwise, why would a billionaire be here? A reasonable explanation: Amnesia! Or dissociative identity disorder! I gained confidence: “You’re really not Caleb Vance?” Flynn shook his head: “I’m not, sister.” Chloe said usually the personalities don’t know what the other does. To verify, I steeled myself, cupped his face, and kissed him. If it were real, the germaphobe, woman-hating Caleb would have flipped me over. But Flynn didn’t. After the kiss, he just grabbed the sofa in panic: “Sister, I work here but I don’t do that…” “I’m not an escort.” Confirmed. This little cutie is the second personality. Flynn covered his face, looking at me pitifully: “I… I haven’t been kissed before… sister.” My lust blinded me. Coupled with work trauma, my twisted psyche exploded into a fearless desire for my handsome, rich boss. I hugged him and kissed him hard: “Okay, okay, I’ll take responsibility!” 2 Next day at work, the boss was his usual stone-faced self. Looks like he really doesn’t remember. But I remember. I remember using his tie to bind his hands… After the morning meeting, my face was burning red. Colleague: “You okay, Mia? Don’t stress about the KPI…” Me, in my own world: “I think my relationship with the boss is a bit ambiguous.” Colleague: “I think it’s a bit delusional.” I stared at his back. Office romance, here I come. If I can’t be family, I’ll be a lover. As long as he pays. Work has stripped me of my morals! Someone must have gossiped that I looked mental. Before leaving, the boss called me in for a “counseling session.” “I know the workload is heavy… but Mia, I see potential in you.” “I’ve brought you on every project. Think about how much you’ve learned.” “If you’re tired, take the weekend off. Come on a business trip with me Monday.” Me, muttering: “Tsk, this mouth is so cold now.” “Last night it was so hot…” He paused: “What did you say?” Emboldened by lust, I stepped forward and lifted his chin: “Caleb Vance…” Do you know how slutty you were last night… Last night he was wild, now he’s serious. Caleb turned away. To me, this was playing hard to get. Tsk, men. He said seriously: “Ms. Mia, we are at work. Be mindful.” I got it. His subtext: Flirt with me after work. I was lost in fantasy, vaguely hearing him ask: “Did you understand?” I had an epiphany. I patted his butt on the way out: “I’ll wait for you~” Invest now, live in a mansion later. Caleb: “…” I don’t know if the primary personality has daytime shame, but my reflex slap earned me a spreadsheet. Boss: “Finish before you leave.” Fine. Just wait until later. 3 One hour later, Club Elysium. I was at the bar for less than a minute before Flynn appeared. He leaned on me drunkenly: “Sister, why so late?” “I thought you forgot Flynn.” The audacity! If you didn’t give me that spreadsheet, would I be late? You clock out on time to come here and fool around with your second personality! I pushed him away, plotting torture. I need payback for the work trauma. Flynn: “You’re late. They made me drink a lot.” I gripped my glass, silent. He tugged my sleeve, shaking it gently, looking at me with puppy eyes: “Sister, don’t you feel bad for me?” Honestly? I did. But thinking of the empty office while I worked overtime? My heart was colder than a frozen fish. I pulled him close and poured my strong drink into his mouth. He coughed, red liquid running down his chin, over his adam’s apple, into his shirt. I couldn’t help it. I bit him. Metallic taste. DJ music pounding. I went crazy. Lipstick smeared, clothes messy. I pulled his crumpled collar, panting. He held me, licking the corner of my mouth with his bitten tongue. Voice raspy and obedient: “Sister, want me to drink more?” My anger vanished in the kiss. He looked like a succubus. If I didn’t have a shred of morality left, I’d be pouring more than alcohol down his throat. “Caleb Vance…” Him: “Sister, I’m not him.” “I’m Flynn. Not Caleb.” Before I could speak, he grabbed my waist and lifted me off the stool. I tasted a lot of alcohol on him. I was tipsy. Before I knew it, we were in a dark corner, my back against the wall. He kissed me fiercely. I was shocked. He was usually passive. Why today… I pushed the man burying his face in my neck: “Caleb…” His breath was hot, kiss urgent: “I don’t want to hear his name.” Okay, crazy second personality. Can’t tolerate the first. 4 Rest is short. I opened my eyes and was at the airport. 5 AM. Caleb stood there, fresh as a daisy. How does he do it? Work all day, host all night? I got home at 12 and slept less than 4 hours. Caleb: “What? Is there something on my face?” Me, yawning: “No, just curious. You sleep so late, how is your skin so good?” Caleb, taking my suitcase: “How do you know I sleep late?” Oops. Based on observation, they don’t know about each other. And Flynn hates Caleb. Does Caleb hate Flynn? Me: “Haha, boss is busy, must sleep late…” Wait, where is his assistant, Leo? He paused: “Just us this time.” “Oh.” Normally I’d fight for my suitcase, but I’m so intimate with his second personality now. Touched hands, kissed mouths, just missing the home run. I felt entitled. Same body, right? Leo booked the hotel. Only one suite left. Me: “Leo only booked one?” Caleb: “One is fine.” We spoke in unison. The receptionist smiled professionally and handed over one key card. Caleb took it. His ears looked red. Okay, Flynn is at 70% progress, now Caleb is grinding stats too? The suite had two rooms. Caleb gave me the bigger one with the bath: “More convenient for girls.” He pushed my luggage in: “Freshen up, then we eat downstairs.” Everything arranged perfectly. I didn’t feel like an employee at all. Is the trophy wife dream coming true? I texted Chloe: [Sis is transforming!] Chloe: [Moon Prism Power!] Me: [Some people dream, I achieve. Trophy wife era loading.] Chloe: [You drunk again?] I looked at the CEO in the suit next to me and smiled. [Wait till I’m rich, I’ll buy you the mall.] I sent a pic of the high-end restaurant and a “candid” of the boss. Chloe: [?] Chloe: [?] Chloe: [?] Chloe: [Sister! My only sister!] [I’m resigning to carry your shoes!] [Old servant is late!] Me: [Soon. Wait for it.] [If Flynn wasn’t dormant, we’d be in the hotel bed, not the restaurant.] Chloe: [Oh my. Attack, sister! Bed is ready, man is ready… Get him drunk! Maybe the broken personality will come out!] [Then this and that…] Phone vibrated with Chloe’s “instructional videos.” She really watches a lot. The meal made me hot and thirsty. After eating, I stood up dizzy. The wine bottle was empty. Caleb’s glass was still full. Damn. I got myself drunk. Caleb came to support me: “Drink moderately.” Only Caleb would say that. Flynn drinks like a fish and loves it. Elevator was crowded. I leaned into his arms. He was stiff. Very different from Flynn. My face was flushed. Drunk Caleb is such a gentleman. He walked me to my door: “Can you manage?” I didn’t speak. The moment he let go, I fell backward. He caught me by the waist and helped me to bed, tucking me in. He turned to leave. I grabbed his hand. Chloe’s videos played in my head. Alcohol blurred the lines between Flynn and Caleb. I pulled him down and kissed him. “Mia…” Caleb was stunned, mouth slightly open. Maybe the personalities react differently. The kiss felt different. “Why are your lips so cold?” Am I too hot? Caleb pushed me away: “Mia, you’re drunk.” Ears bleeding red. Just like Flynn. “Why haven’t you changed?” I poked his face. “I thought you’d come out at night.” So, what’s the trigger? Caleb: “Change what?” He kept a meter distance. If Flynn is a clingy puppy, Caleb is a high-and-mighty cat. The push fueled my conquest. I wrapped my arms around his neck: “We’re adults. You know what I mean.” Special treatment at work, eye contact at the club, business trip for two, one suite… I’ve figured both of them out. I kissed him for a long time. Finally, Caleb reacted. He cupped my face, responding tentatively. I was encouraged. Tonight is the night! I tried to undress him, then felt a familiar flow. Period. Early. I lay dead on the bed. Caleb knocked, bringing brown sugar ginger tea. Perfect temperature. I drank it. He gave me a hot water bottle. I tossed it aside and looked at him pitifully: “Caleb, my stomach hurts. Rub it?” He said okay. Strength and heat perfect. I slept until midnight, woke up hot. Caleb was still there. “You didn’t go?” My voice was hoarse. He changed the towel on my forehead: “You have a fever.” Physical cooling failed. He carried me to the hospital for an IV. He had meetings tomorrow, but cared for me all night. Eating the porridge he made, I asked: “What are we now?” He paused: “Might be rushed, but if you don’t mind… will you be my girlfriend?” I nodded. Just like that, a fever got me a boyfriend. But because of the fever, I could only look, not touch. Caleb was strictly “no-touch.”

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At the company’s annual awards ceremony, just as I stepped onto the stage, my supervisor, Melissa, suddenly shoved a crumpled piece of paper into my hand. “A special grand prize, just for our top salesperson! Go on, open it up and show everyone!” Under the expectant gazes of the entire company, I unfolded the paper. Scrawled in messy handwriting were the words: Clean all the company bathrooms for three days. The room erupted in laughter. Melissa stood with her arms crossed, a smug smirk on her face. “Generous, right? After all, everyone knows your sales numbers are just dirty money from sleeping with old men. We wouldn’t want the other employees to feel like it’s unfair. So, while they’re on vacation, you can work a little overtime. You wouldn’t mind that, would you?” The laughter grew louder, nearly shaking the room. My boyfriend, Dominic, the CEO, witnessed the entire thing from the side of the stage. And, as usual, he didn’t say a single word in my defense. Just when everyone expected me to break down in tears, I simply nodded calmly. The next day, the company received cancellation notices for over 300 properties. The entire financial chain collapsed in an instant. Melissa and Dominic demanded I go and beg the buyers to reconsider. I smiled and replied, “No, I don’t think so. If I save the company again, my sales numbers will be even higher. We wouldn’t want to make everyone else feel even more unbalanced, now would we?” 1. When I said I would accept the “prize,” a brief silence fell over the room, quickly followed by an even more ferocious wave of laughter. Melissa’s laughter was the most exaggerated of all. She was doubled over, tears streaming from her eyes. “See? This is why she’s the top salesperson! The sheer thickness of her skin is something ordinary people could never achieve!” I ignored her sarcastic remarks and spoke calmly. “There’s just one thing I need to clarify. Since the company has arranged this… benefit… of bathroom cleaning for me, that will be my sole responsibility for the next three days. I will not be handling any other work-related matters.” Melissa was taken aback, clearly not expecting such a strange request. But it was the end of the year. Thanks to my efforts, all sales targets had been exceeded. All that was left was for the clients to finalize their bank payments for the transactions to be officially complete. For me to step away from sales at this critical moment was like handing her a billion-dollar performance on a silver platter. Melissa, assuming I had been pushed to my breaking point and lost my mind, agreed without a second thought. “Fine by me. If you don’t want the responsibility, you don’t have to have it.” “You’re not the only salesperson we have. Do you really think this company can’t function without you?” “For the next few days, you just focus on scrubbing toilets. But if I find a single strand of hair on the floor, you can start looking for a new job.” I didn’t say another word. I just turned and walked away. In the hallway, I pulled out my phone and sent a message to my client group chat. “To all my valued clients, I am currently facing a change in my position. For those of you who trust me, I would advise you to temporarily delay your bank payments. Please await further instructions from me.” Just after I hit send, a text from Dominic came through. “Come to my office. We need to talk.” I tossed my phone aside, pretending I hadn’t seen it. We met in college. After graduation, at Dominic’s persistent pleading, I turned down a six-figure job to help him build his company from the ground up. He always said that as soon as the company hit a billion in revenue, we would get married. I believed his empty promises and poured my heart and soul into the company. But all I got in return was neglect and constant put-downs. Melissa had only been with the company for three months. Her sales numbers were a fraction of mine. But because Dominic was so impressed with her supposed “overseas background” and “prestigious education,” he promoted her to Sales Manager, completely bypassing me. And me? The top salesperson for three years running? My reward was the “honor” of cleaning toilets for three days. Under the sympathetic and gloating stares of my colleagues, I walked to the janitor’s closet and changed into a cleaning uniform. As I was carrying a bucket towards the bathrooms, a voice called out from behind me. “Chloe, stop!” 2. It was Dominic. He usually pretended not to know me at the office. This was the first time he had ever called out to me in front of everyone. He strode towards me, his face a thundercloud, and looked down at me with condescension. “I told you to come to my office. Why didn’t you?” I didn’t offer an explanation. I just said flatly, “I was busy with work. I didn’t have time to look at my phone.” It was the same excuse Dominic always used on me. Hearing it from my lips for the first time seemed to catch him off guard. “It was a small thing. Is it really worth throwing such a tantrum over?” Once he was sure no one else could hear us, Dominic’s tone softened. He sighed. “I know you’re upset about the prize Melissa gave you. And I know I should have defended you. But she’s the new sales manager, someone I’ve put a lot of faith in. Her initiatives have brought a huge boost to the company’s performance. I couldn’t undermine her in front of the entire staff. You have to try to understand my position…” “You know perfectly well that wasn’t a prize. It was pure, unadulterated bullying and humiliation!” I cut him off, my voice cold. “And what do you think is responsible for that boost in performance? Melissa, sitting in her office all day, sipping lattes in the air conditioning?” “If it weren’t for me out there, day in and day out, rain or shine, chasing down every single lead, so busy I forget to eat, do you really think this company would have closed a single deal in this real estate downturn?” My aggressive questioning made Dominic’s face fall. “Don’t be so arrogant, Chloe. You make it sound like you’re single-handedly holding up the entire company.” “Without Melissa’s ‘Winter Warm-Up’ campaign, would we have attracted so many potential buyers? You’re clearly benefiting from her work. Don’t be ungrateful. It makes you look pathetic.” He didn’t even give me a chance to respond before turning and walking away. If I hadn’t heard it with my own ears, I would never have believed such idiotic words could come from the mouth of the man I had loved for over a decade. The so-called “Winter Warm-Up” campaign he was praising consisted of a few tables set up outside the sales office, offering free cups of cheap, instant black coffee and flimsy, dollar-store gloves to passersby. The coffee usually went cold without anyone touching it, and the gloves were often found in the nearest trash can. And in Dominic’s eyes, this was what was bringing in the real money, and I was the one piggybacking on Melissa’s success. In all our years together, to protect Dominic’s fragile male ego, I had never boasted about my achievements or complained about my struggles. I thought he had a heart, that if he wasn’t a complete idiot, he would eventually see my dedication and hard work. I never imagined he could be so blind, so willing to erase all of my contributions. In that moment, the last lingering trace of affection I had for Dominic vanished. I threw down the mop and rubber gloves. My voice was ice. “Fine. If in your eyes, Melissa is the one responsible for all our success, then I quit. And we’re through. We’re done.” 3. In all our years together, no matter how angry or disappointed I was, I had never said a harsh word to Dominic, let alone mentioned breaking up. Hearing those words come from me, he stared at me in disbelief. “Chloe, are you insane? Do you know what you’re saying?” “We’re only 300 sales away from hitting that billion-dollar target I promised you. Once those final payments come in, we’ve made it. If you throw a fit now, at this crucial moment, I won’t give you a second chance.” I didn’t want to waste another breath on him. I just walked out of the company. I had just gotten home and taken off my shoes when my phone rang. It was my mother. The moment I answered, her voice, sharp and angry, assaulted my ears. “Are you crazy, Chloe? Did you fight with Dominic? I’m telling you, you go and apologize to him right now!” “You’re a woman! Everything you have today is because of him! Don’t be so ungrateful!” Her voice grew shriller. “Dominic is young and successful! The fact that he’s been with you for twelve years is a blessing!” “If you piss him off now, who do you think is going to want you? For a woman, marrying a good man is the most important thing in life. Go and be nice to him, get that ring on your finger. Stop this foolishness!” “Without Dominic, you’re nothing!” I held the phone, a bitter laugh rising in my throat. Throughout our relationship, Dominic had always been able to easily win over my mother with small gifts and gestures. A few health supplements, a red envelope with some cash during the holidays, and she would treat him like a savior and then turn around and lecture me about being obedient. He must have given her something good this time for her to be so eager to play his advocate, without even bothering to ask what had happened. I didn’t argue. I didn’t explain. I just waited until she had exhausted herself, and then I hung up. My phone screen was still lit. I opened my client group chat and typed a message. “To all my clients, I have decided to resign from my position at Sterling Properties. If you have any future real estate needs, please feel free to contact me directly.” Less than a minute after I sent the message, the chat exploded. “Chloe, you’re leaving? What about the properties we’ve already put offers on? I only trust you! I don’t want to deal with anyone else!” “Yeah, we chose Sterling because of your expertise! If you leave, we’ll follow you!” “No matter which company you go to, we’re with you. Without you, who else at Sterling is going to be so dedicated to helping us?” “I haven’t finalized my paperwork yet! Wherever you go, I’ll go. Just tell me what to do!” The messages flooded in, one after another. No questions, no doubts, just unconditional trust and support. Twelve years of selfless dedication meant nothing to Dominic. But my genuine efforts to help these clients, they remembered every single one. It wasn’t that my sincerity was destined to be betrayed. It was that Dominic was never worthy of it in the first place. I wiped away a tear and replied to the group: “Thank you all for your understanding and support. As soon as I have determined my next steps, I will let you all know immediately.” 4. Reading those heartfelt messages, the knot of tension that had been tightening in my chest all day finally began to loosen. Just then, I received a direct message from an unknown number. The sender identified themselves as a recruiter. “Ms. Simmons, we have been following your excellent reputation in the industry. We understand you are considering a change, and we would like to extend a sincere invitation for you to join one of our partner firms. The compensation would be double your current salary, and you would have your choice of position. Would you be interested in discussing this further?” I replied with a quick “I’ll be in touch,” and turned off my phone. I didn’t sleep a wink that night, but I felt no fatigue. The next morning, I arrived at the office on time. Ignoring the stares of my colleagues, I walked straight to my desk and began packing my things. Just then, Melissa approached me with a sickeningly sweet smile. “Chloe, don’t you have a sense of humor?” “It was just a little joke, making you clean the bathrooms. Why did you have to go and resign? There’s no need to be so dramatic.” “How about this? I’ll give you a little bonus, out of my own pocket, as compensation.” “Here,” she said, holding out a red envelope. “This is for you. A two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar bonus.” She emphasized the “two-fifty,” a number that is a common insult, her smile dripping with malice. The company had had a banner year. Every employee who participated in the annual raffle received a cash prize, with the lowest being over eight thousand dollars. And me, a senior employee and the top salesperson, was being offered this pittance, an amount that was a blatant insult. It was the ultimate humiliation. A wave of fury washed over me, and I slapped her hand away. It wasn’t a hard slap, certainly not enough to knock someone over. But Melissa let out a dramatic cry and stumbled backward, collapsing in front of my desk, her eyes immediately welling up with tears. “Chloe! I was just trying to be nice and give you a bonus! You didn’t have to hit me!” Seeing her damsel-in-distress act, Dominic, who had rushed over at the sound of the commotion, grabbed my arm without a second thought. “Chloe, my patience with you has its limits!” “If you don’t apologize to Melissa right now, you will never set foot in this company again!” I wrenched my arm from his grasp. “Dominic,” I said, my voice cold, “are you suffering from memory loss? I already told you I was quitting yesterday. I’m just here to collect my personal belongings.” Dominic’s face turned ugly. He stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “You can quit. But you’re leaving the files for those three hundred clients here.” I stopped and looked at him, my expression unreadable. “Fine.” I agreed without hesitation. I bent down, took a neatly organized stack of client files from my box, and placed it on the desk beside me. “But I should warn you. Those three hundred clients came to us because of my reputation and my expertise. Not because of Sterling Properties, and certainly not because of you or Melissa.” Dominic laughed as if I had told the funniest joke in the world. “Chloe, you’re giving yourself way too much credit. Without the Sterling platform, who do you think you are?” “You think you could have closed all those deals without the resources this company provided? Don’t flatter yourself.” Melissa, standing beside him, chimed in. “Exactly. She really thinks she’s something special. Once we take over, we’ll have no problem keeping those clients. Do you really think the company will fall apart without you?” I didn’t bother arguing with them. It was pointless. I straightened the files on the desk, making sure everything was there, then picked up my box and turned to leave. Just as the elevator doors were opening and I was about to step inside, a panicked voice shouted from behind me. “Mr. Keyes! Ms. Sanders! We have a huge problem!” An employee, his face pale, ran up to Dominic, stammering. “The-the front desk has been flooded with calls! It’s all the clients who put in offers. They… they all want to cancel!” “We’ve already counted over a hundred, and the calls are still coming in!”

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I’d just tossed my half-finished iced coffee cup into a trash can on the way home from school when a translucent wall of text exploded in the air right in front of me. [What’s up with this shot? Why are they sticking to this random background extra?] [OMG! Isn’t this the opening of Chapter One from the original novel! That exact trash can!] [Wait, did that background girl just look twice at the bin? Was that in the script?] I froze, the strap of my heavy backpack clenched in my hand. What… was that? The words hung in the air, like closed captions or a video stream overlay, but clearer, with a distinct, glowing edge. [Look, ladies! The iced coffee cup in her hand! It’s the first food Landon picks up in the book!] [Background Sis, don’t throw it out! Twenty feet ahead, turn right into the alley—there’s a kid there who’s about to pass out from hunger!] [That’s Landon Pierce! The real heir! His stepmom dumped him there seven years ago!] My heart slammed against my ribs. I whirled around. The street was empty. The after-school rush had dissipated, and there was no one speaking to me. A hallucination? 01 But the words kept scrolling: [Waaaah, Landon, my baby! Mom loves you! Please, Background Sis, go check on him!] [According to the original plot, he gets low blood sugar tonight, ends up in the hospital, where Sylvie finds him and tricks him into signing away his inheritance.] [Is the background actress ad-libbing? But her expression is so real…] I wasn’t an actress. My name is Ainsley Rowe, a totally average seventeen-year-old junior at Crestview High. Mid-range grades, totally forgettable looks. The kind of person you’d never spot in a crowd. But those comments… they were talking about me. On pure, dizzying impulse, I retrieved the coffee cup from the trash. It wasn’t dirty. I also dug out the second lunch container my mom had insisted I take from my backpack and walked toward the direction the text indicated. My heart was beating so fast it felt like it would shatter my ribs. Foundry Lane was worse than I imagined. Peeled paint, puddles of foul water everywhere. The late autumn wind cut through the narrow gap between the buildings, chilling me to the bone. In the deepest corner of the alley, a boy was crouched by a dumpster, reaching for a discarded bottle. He was wearing a faded, gray hoodie, the hood pulled low. I could only see a pale jawline and cracked lips. His fingers were long and slender, chapped red from the cold, yet there was a strange, almost… expensive quality to them. “Um…” He spun around. His hood slipped, and I saw his eyes. They were like two pools of stagnant water, black and utterly devoid of light. The pop-up text went wild: [Aaaah! It’s Landon! Screenshot this! What is she waiting for?] [My heart breaks seeing how he looks at people… Thrown out for seven years, he trusts no one.] [Background Sis, say something! Just say you accidentally bought an extra coffee!] I swallowed hard, holding out the items. “I… I grabbed the wrong size on my latte, too much caffeine for me. And my mom packed me a second lunch container by mistake. Would you mind helping me out? Otherwise, I’ll get an earful at home for wasting food.” I stammered through the ridiculous lie. He stared at me, then at the Tupperware, his Adam’s apple bobbing. [He’s struggling! He knows accepting charity is humiliating, but he’s starving!] [He’s been hungry for two days; only found half a stale baguette yesterday.] [Quick, tell him you’re from Crestview! Increase the credibility score!] “I’m a junior at Crestview High,” I said, pointing to my school hoodie. “I live right up the street in the Willow Creek apartments. I’m not a bad person.” His eyelashes trembled. “…Thank you,” he whispered, barely a sound. When he took the container, his fingertips brushed mine. They were ice cold, like marble. He squatted back against the wall, opened the container, and ate slowly. He chewed every bite for a long time, as if his stomach had forgotten how to function. The pop-ups began to flood the screen: [First meal achievement unlocked! Bless you, Background Sis!] [Who is this actress? She’s doing a great job; that tentative kindness is so real.] [This wasn’t in the original book! Is this an adaptation?] [Who cares! As long as Landon gets fed!] My throat tightened with emotion. When he finished, I asked softly, “Um… Could I look for you again tomorrow? My mom genuinely over-packs every day. I really need help eating it all.” He looked up, a faint ripple disturbing the dead water in his eyes. After a long pause, he nodded. “Okay.” 02 I didn’t sleep well that night. The pop-up text flickered in my mind: [Checked it out! The Background Sis actress is Ainsley Rowe, a newbie, doesn’t even have an Instagram.] [The key thing is she changed the plot! Landon was supposed to pass out tonight!] [If she keeps bringing him food, will Sylvie never find him?] [But Sylvie is already looking for him. Her P.I. will find Foundry Lane by next week at the latest.] [I’m dying here! Can someone send a reminder to her?] Wait. I sat bolt upright in bed. The pop-ups can see me? They think I’m in a ‘show’? Which meant… I, and Landon, were living inside a script, and they were the audience? The realization was terrifying, making my hands and feet go cold. But the next second, I saw a new comment: [I wish the Background Sis could see the pop-ups. Tell her to move Landon out of the alley NOW!] I took a deep breath, whispering toward the empty air: “I… I can see them.” The pop-ups froze for three seconds. Then, they erupted: [???????] [Did I just hear a voice-over???] [No… she sounded like she was talking to us???] [The Fourth Wall is shattered!!!] I gathered my courage. “You mentioned someone named Sylvie. When will she find this place?” The text scrolled at warp speed: [HOLY CRAP! It’s interactive!!!] [What is this tech? VR captioning???] [Next week! Wednesday at the latest! Sylvie’s private investigator is already in the West End!] [Landon is staying in that abandoned electrical shed deep inside Foundry Lane!] [Background Sis, save him! His stepmom set him up! His mother left him a 30% stake in the company!] The information overload was dizzying. But the core mission was clear: Save Landon. The next day, I brought a double lunch, plus a duffel bag of my cousin’s old clothes. When I found Landon, he was meticulously organizing salvaged cardboard, his movements painfully efficient. “Landon.” He turned. Seeing the bag in my hand, he paused. “My mom went through my cousin’s closet. He outgrew all this. If you don’t mind…” “I don’t mind.” He took the bag, his voice still faint. “Thank you.” We sat together on a cracked concrete pipe, eating. He seemed slightly better today; his hands weren’t shaking as badly. “How old are you?” I asked. “Seventeen.” “Not in school?” “…I was, dropped out in eighth grade.” He picked at his food. “The shelter only provides housing until you’re fifteen.” A pop-up drifted by: [He says it lightly, but he was actually kicked out because he aged out and had nowhere to go.] [He hitchhiked back, thinking his dad would look for him, but saw Sylvie and her lover celebrating at the Pierce mansion.] [He stood across the street all night, then just walked away.] A heavy ache settled in my chest. “If… if you could go back to school, would you?” His utensil stopped halfway to his mouth. After a long pause, he said quietly, “Yes.” “I dream about it.” 03 I started bringing him food every day, telling my mom I was helping a “financially struggling classmate.” She would beam at me and praise my thoughtfulness. She gave me my younger brother’s hand-me-downs and even increased my allowance. I tried to slip him some cash occasionally. He refused. I countered, “It’s a loan. You can pay me back later.” He accepted everything, but insisted on keeping a ledger. The words in the small, scavenged notebook were surprisingly neat, unlike what a street kid would write: Nov 7. Lunch (Ainsley) Nov 8. Winter jacket (Ainsley) Nov 9. 11th Grade Physics textbook (Ainsley) I told him not to bother, but he shook his head. “I have to pay it back.” The pop-ups provided a daily intelligence briefing: [Sylvie’s lover is Trenton Hall, now the Pierce Corp. VP. They plan to marry as soon as Landon turns eighteen.] [Old Man Edward Pierce is sick. The will isn’t finalized. Sylvie is rushing to find Landon to force a signature.] [The PI has his picture, but hasn’t confirmed his identity yet.] On Wednesday afternoon, I skipped study hall to bring him a scarf—a thick, dark gray one I’d bought with my saved allowance. As I reached the alley entrance, I saw two men in dark suits questioning the owner of the corner store. “…Seventeen or eighteen, kinda lean, pale. Might be scavenging in this area.” My heart seized. I ducked behind a utility pole. Pop-up alarm: [It’s Trenton Hall’s people! They’ve found the neighborhood!] [In the original plot, the store owner is the one who gives them directions!] [Background Sis, grab Landon and run!] I raced into the alley. Landon was reading the physics textbook, the setting sun catching his eyelashes. He looked peaceful, like a painting. “Landon! Pack up. We need to leave now!” He looked up, confused. “Someone is looking for you. They don’t look like good people.” Sweat pricked my skin. “Maybe… debt collectors?” It was a clumsy lie, but he bought it. After seven years on the streets, he was familiar with malice. “Okay.” He closed the book, retrieved his ledger from under a stack of cardboard. “I know a bridge abutment not far from here.” “Wait.” I grabbed his sleeve. “You can’t keep hiding.” I looked him in the eye. “Give me a week. I’ll figure out a place for you to stay, and… get you back into school.” His pupils dilated slightly. “Why?” His voice was hoarse. “Why are you doing so much for me?” The pop-ups rolled: [Tell him you can’t stand it!] [Say you want to save him!] [The real reason is we gave her the spoilers…] But I couldn’t say that. “Because…” I heard my own voice tremble. “Because you deserve to be treated well.” His eyelashes looked damp. “…Okay.” 04 That night, I did something incredibly daring. Following the clues from the pop-ups, I found the number for Harrison Reid, the former legal counsel for Pierce Corp. He was a long-time associate of Landon’s deceased mother, Helena Pierce, and had always suspected foul play in her “accident.” I used a payphone outside a convenience store. “Mr. Reid, I’m Ainsley Rowe. I think… I know where Landon Pierce is.” Silence on the other end. “Do you know the consequences of making a false claim?” “He has a red mole behind his left ear, and a burn scar on the web of his right hand. He got it when he knocked over the candles on his seventh birthday.” I rushed the words out. “He’s using the name Landon now, and he’s staying in the West End, but he has to move tonight. Sylvie’s people are closing in. If they find him first, he’ll be forced to sign a property waiver, and then he’ll ‘accidentally’ die.” A longer silence. “What do you want?” Harrison Reid’s voice was low and guarded. “First, guarantee his safety. Second, get him into school. Third… don’t bring him back to the Pierce mansion yet. Not until he’s capable of protecting himself.” “You’re just a student.” “Which is why Sylvie won’t suspect me.” I said. “Mr. Reid, if you want to honor the memory of Ms. Helena Pierce, you need to trust me.” I hung up, my legs shaking too much to stand. The pop-ups erupted in cheers: [Background Sis is a certified badass! She went straight to the key NPC!] [Harrison only found Landon after three years in the original book, and by then it was too late!] [This pushed the plot forward by at least six months!] But I knew the trouble had just begun.

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I was born a liar, that’s the label my mother gave me. Just because my mother, who firmly believed in scientific parenting, put Truth Bracelets on me and my twin sister since we were born. As long as we lie, the bracelet will light up red, and mom will press the remote control to release electric current as punishment. My sister’s bracelet is always green, even if she cut mom’s dress and said the cat did it, the bracelet would only gently flash green light. But me, even if I just shout “Mom, I’m hungry”, the bracelet will instantly explode with red light, followed by heart-drilling electric shock. At first I would defend myself, but mom said: “Machines don’t lie, you will only remember when it hurts. Mom is doing this for your own good.” After thousands of electric shocks, I also thought I was born a liar. On New Year’s Eve, mom prepared to take sister to see the fireworks. Severe abdominal pain hit me, I curled up on the floor asking for help: “Mom, my stomach hurts so much, save me.” But the bracelet flashed red crazily. Mom looked down at me sweating coldly, turned the current to the maximum level: “To want to go see New Year’s Eve fireworks with us, you actually fake illness? Really incorrigible!” She turned and took sister out, slamming the door heavily. I couldn’t help thinking, mom is right, the bracelet is red, so I must not be in pain, it’s me lying for attention again. Sorry mom, next life, I will definitely learn to be an honest child. Chapter 1 “It hurts so much…” I convulsed all over with pain, nails scratching white marks on the floor. Doorknob turned. A trace of light burst into my eyes. Mom came back. Mom is a doctor, she must have seen something wrong with me, came to save me. “Not ready yet? Fireworks are starting, Bella is waiting anxiously.” “Mom.” I shouted weakly, reaching out a hand towards the door. “Mom, really hurts, like intestines broken.” She glanced at the crazy flashing red light on my hand. Mom squatted down, pinched my chin, tone angry. “Stella, how long are you going to act?” “Really habitual liar, you just reflect at home!” Dad urged at the door. “Honey, hurry up, fireworks show is starting. If Stella doesn’t go then don’t go, leave some food for her?” Mom stood up, clapped hands, as if disgusted by dirt. “Leave what food?” “There’s a pile of snacks in her room cabinet, that’s what she bought with stolen money last time, won’t starve her to death.” “Lock the door, let her out when the bracelet turns green.” “But.” Dad seemed to hesitate. “But what? Merciful father spoils son! Look at how honest Bella is, bracelet is always green.” “Stella is rotten to the core, must be corrected!” But my cabinet was empty. That time money was taken by sister, snacks were also eaten by sister. Sister just stood by, bracelet flashing gentle green light, said: “Not me.” Mom believed. And I defended a sentence I didn’t take either, red light on, I got electric shocked. I watched mom turn around. Sister poked head out from door crack, made a face at me. “Bye sister, we go see beautiful fireworks lo.” Her bracelet, glowing green, really pretty. Bang. Door slammed heavily, sound of locking came. Home quiet. Only left me, and the saw in my stomach. Hurts so much. Mom is right, machines don’t lie. Bracelet is red, so I must be lying. I don’t hurt. I really don’t hurt. I cried while hypnotizing myself. Don’t know how long passed, seemed really not that painful anymore. I supported last breath, crawled to desk. I need to write Apology Letter, this is the rule. As long as red light on, must write one thousand words “I am a liar”. After writing, mom will forgive me right? Will send me to hospital right? I trembled hand, opened that crumpled diary. Above densely packed all previous apology letters. Before I wrote “Sorry, I was wrong, I won’t lie anymore”. But this time, I want to write some truth. Vision getting blurry, I cried while using last strength wrote: “Mom, I really love you.” “I really hurt so much, why you just don’t believe me?” “Mom, please believe me once okay.” Finished writing last word, severe pain in stomach suddenly disappeared. Replaced by an unprecedented lightness. Body became light, I floated up. I looked down, saw myself lying on the table, hand hanging in mid-air, motionless. Bracelet on body, still flashing red light crazily. Turns out I died ah, but I haven’t learned to be an honest child yet, sorry mom. Chapter 2 I was woken up by a burst of laughter. That was voice of dad mom and sister. “Tonight’s fireworks really beautiful, especially that smiley face shape, as cute as our Bella!” Mom’s voice revealed gentleness I never heard. I floated in mid-air, watching entrance door open. Already became soul me, subconsciously wanted to float over welcome them, Wanted to help them get slippers like before. This is my pleasing instinct carved in bones. “Mom.” I opened arms, wanted to hug that woman full of cold air: “I don’t hurt anymore, I will be good later, you don’t be angry.” But, my hand passed directly through her body, like a gust of uncatchable wind. Mom shivered, frowned: “Why home so cold? Heater not on?” I froze on spot, looking at my transparent palm. Yes, I already died. Dead people can’t hug living people. “Go see Stella, that girl didn’t come out to eat either, don’t really starve bad.” Dad mentioned casually. Still dad is good. I looked at mom expectantly. If she finds I died, will she be sad? Will she regret? Mom snorted coldly, put on slippers walked towards my room. “Starve to death deserve it. That kind of bad habit faking illness for attention, is spoiled out.” She pushed open my room door. Didn’t turn on light. Borrowing living room light, she saw “me” lying on desk. Motionless, like sleeping. “Yo, still lying?” Mom crossed arms, tone mocking. “Think lying on table acting pitiful, I will carry you to bed?” “Stella, you are ten years old this year, not five!” I floated beside corpse, shouted loudly: “Mom! I’m not faking sleep! I died! Look at me!” “Touch me! My body is very cold!” But mom couldn’t hear. She only believes what she sees. Sister drilled in from her armpit, raised wrist showing off: “Sister is big lazy pig! Look my bracelet is green, sister’s still red!” “Sister always lying, she lies even in dreams!” Mom touched sister’s head: “Still our Bella good. Don’t mind this liar, let her lie, lie for lifetime if capable.” Dad peeked head behind: “How about carry her to bed? Big winter.” “Carry what carry!” Mom interrupted him, “Current kids are just spoiled.” “Parenting experts said, this time need cold treatment, must let her realize her mistake herself.” “Look at that red light, shows her current mental state is still ‘extreme confrontation’, didn’t reflect at all!” “Alright, go sleep. Tomorrow have to go to Grandma’s for Brunch.” Mom turned sharply, closed door again. Click. Lock fell. I floated beside corpse, looking at that point of scarlet light in darkness, sadness in heart more than death. Mom, if you even walk one step closer, even touch my hand, you would find I’m already cold through. But you didn’t. You only believe that cold machine, but don’t believe daughter you carried ten months to give birth. Late night, a rat drilled out from empty cabinet. I used to fear rats most, screamed every time seeing. But now, I can only float on ceiling, watching it presumptuous on my corpse. “Go away.” I drove weakly, but couldn’t make sound. Rat bit my toe, oozed a little black purple blood. I can’t feel pain anymore. Really good. Finally not painful anymore. I said to that pitiful shell below: “Don’t fear, anyway can’t feel pain anymore.” “Will end soon.” Chapter 3 Next morning. Sunlight shone on my corpse, didn’t bring a trace of warmth. Kitchen came clanking sound. Mom making breakfast. Smell of Pancakes drilled in through door crack. Usually, this is smell I crave most. But I can only eat boiled vegetables, because mom said, liar doesn’t deserve meat. Today, she deliberately made spatula very loud. I know, she wants to tempt me. Want me can’t stand temptation, roll out admit mistake myself. If before, I might really admit those wrong things I didn’t do for a pancake. But now, I don’t need to eat anymore. “Stella haven’t come out?” Dad sat at dining table reading newspaper. “No, stubborn like a donkey.” Mom put plate heavily on table. “Spoiled habit. Eat or not, not eat pull down.” Sister drinking milk, eyes rolled around. She deliberately ran to my door, sniffed hard. Then exaggeratedly shouted: “Mom! Sister room so smelly!” “Did she pee and poop anywhere inside?” I floated at door, looked at sister bitterly. Heating too sufficient, just one night I started to smell, mom will hate me more. Mom frowned walked over. “Stella!” Mom slapped door panel roared. “Are you pig? Toilet just beside are your legs broken? Actually poop in room?” “Mud can’t support wall! To angry with me, even dignity don’t want?” I remembered childhood. Once I had acute gastroenteritis, diarrhea too late go toilet, soiled pants. Mom not only didn’t help me wash, also made me stand in yard punish display. She pointed at me to neighbors said: “Look at this child, dirty like pig.” Now, she feels I dirty again. “Ignore her!” Mom waved hand disgustedly, like shooing flies. “Let her stay in stink! Stink her to death!” Dad put down newspaper, brows locked tight. “Smell indeed a bit too big, I go look, don’t be some dead rat.” Dad stood up, walked towards my room door. My heart lifted violently. Dad! Open door quick! Look at me quick! I’m just behind door! Just you twist handle, can see I don’t move! Can see my face already black! I floated in front of dad, waved crazily, trying to attract his attention. Dad’s hand put on door handle. Ring ring ring A rapid phone ring sounded. Called by dad’s company leader. Dad picked up phone, face changed: “What? Server crashed? Good good good, I come immediately!” He hung up phone, anxiously grabbed jacket: “Honey, company emergency, I have to go quickly, might not come back these days!” “Ai, then Stella.” Mom’s words not finished, dad already slammed door left. I also stunned. Just missed that little bit. Just missed that one second. If that phone came a bit late, I could be discovered. Maybe that way, I wouldn’t need to continue rotting. Afternoon, mom took sister out shopping, home left only my corpse. At night, they returned fully loaded, brought back many high-end seafood and gifts. Just entered door, that smell heavier. Mom covered nose, even retched once: “Stella! Are you turning home into garbage dump?” She even unwilling open door scold me a sentence, as if looking one more glance at that room would dirty her eyes. She found wide tape, squatted down, fiercely sealed bottom of my door crack tightly. “Since you like stink, then stink enough inside yourself! Don’t smoke us!” Mom finished pasting last strip, patted hands satisfied. “Now quiet.” She turned to kitchen steam seafood. I looked at that sealed door, last bit expectation in heart, also suffocated with tape fitting. Turns out, in mom’s heart. My life and death, even not important as a seafood feast. She rather seal me dead, than willing look once if I died inside. Mom, you won. I will never disturb you again. Chapter 4 Third day morning, winter warm sun shone into living room, but couldn’t drive away haze in this home. Home floor heating on very sufficient, 78 degrees high temperature. Tape already couldn’t seal that smell. That was a disgusting, greasy rotting smell. Mom was trimming just bought fresh flowers, but no matter how strong flower scent, couldn’t cover that corpse smell. Snap! Mom fiercely cut a rose, thorn pricked her hand. She finally couldn’t bear anymore. In her cognition, I don’t shower, pee poop in room, Even hide dead rat in room, is to disgust her, to resist her authority. “Stella, you really give face not want face!” Mom rushed into kitchen, grabbed a rolling pin, angrily walked towards my room. “I must beat you this slob to death today!” “Looks like electric shock can’t cure you, have to let you taste flesh pain!” I floated in front of mom, looking at her hideous face, crazily waved to block “Don’t go in! Mom don’t go in! I’m very ugly! I already rotted! You will be scared!” Although she doesn’t love me, but I also don’t want let her see my terrifying appearance. However, she passed through my soul, tore open door sealing tape. Rip Sound of tape tearing exceptionally harsh. Spare key inserted into lock hole, twisted. Bang! Door violently pushed open. A strong to substantial corpse smell blew over face, like opened Pandora’s box. Mom smoked stumbled back a step, bent over retched. “Blech, Stella! What exactly are you doing!” She looked up, saw I still maintained posture lying on desk three days ago, back to her, motionless. In her view, this is a silent provocation, extreme arrogance. “I talk to you can’t you hear? Still playing dead?” Mom anger attacked heart, rushed over few steps, raised rolling pin in hand high. But she didn’t hit down directly, she wanted to pull me up first, see what expression that “stubborn” face exactly has. “Get up for me!” Her hand fiercely grabbed my back neck collar, even grabbed my skin. Next second, her movement froze. Moment of touch. Time seemed solidified. Across thin pajamas, mom’s fingers felt not warm skin. Nor soft flesh. But a piece of cold, hard as stone dead meat. That coldness, is阴冷 penetrating into bones. No temperature of life. “Hmm?” Mom stunned a bit. But inertia made her continue force. Body dragged backward by her brute force. Along with chair fell to ground together. Clang! Loud noise of chair smashing on floor. My body like a stiff statue, fell straight down. My face, finally revealed.

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On New Year’s Eve, I traveled three thousand miles back from a remote outpost, only to hear a girl at the station shouting my boyfriend’s name into her phone. “Jax, I’m off the train! Where are you?” A female voice came from behind, carrying the specific coquettishness of someone in love. My steps paused, subconsciously looking back. “I know, I know, your unit is busy… But I’m here, you can’t let me spend the holiday alone, right?” Her tone of acting spoiled sounded inexplicably familiar. Three years ago, I said the same words to Jackson Hayes. At that time he just transferred to Fort Bragg, and I was still in Walter Reed Medical School, every meeting required crossing half the country. I shook my head, secretly laughing at my sensitivity. World is so big, thousands of people called “Jax”. But next second, her voice suddenly clear: “Captain Jackson Hayes, if you don’t come out to pick me up, I’m going to hang a banner at your unit’s gate!” Jackson Hayes. My boyfriend is also named Jackson Hayes, same rank. … Ghost driven, I took out my phone, sent message to Jackson. [Jax, can you take leave tonight? I arrived in the city.] He didn’t reply. Girl beside me took her friend to checkout counter, she shook her phone: “Look, only five minutes, asking where I am again.” While laughing, she reached hand to family planning shelf, grabbed several boxes casually. Friend winked: “Playing so wild?” “Lyla, you and Jackson are very loving huh, so those complaints just now were showing off to me?” Girl frivolously said: “If I don’t satisfy him well, leave him to other old women?” Other customers in convenience store looked sideways, someone snickered. Girl didn’t care at all, twisted body walked out with friend. I finished checkout, followed behind them. December winter cold, this girl named Lyla wore a crop top inside coat, bare forearms exceptionally dazzling in cold wind. She looked only early twenties, face full of bright publicity. Completely different from me, always calm and introverted. Walked to roadside, Lyla’s friend took a taxi left. She hummed song continued walking forward, every intersection, our direction consistent. Hearing song she hummed clear, my steps unconsciously slowed. That was song Jackson sang at unit gala, he said that was song only for me. Lyla picked up phone dialed: “Jax, I’m almost there, wait me at gate okay.” That end don’t know said what, she seemed angry yet happy: “I wear a lot, not cold at all, if not believe you check yourself.” “You can put hand inside my coat, my top, and my…” I looked down at phone. No reply. Cold wind drilled into cuff, I shivered. Fingertip stopped on screen, I pressed call button. Mechanical female voice coldly replied: “The number you dialed cannot be connected for now.” I understood. When he executes mission, phones are uniformly kept. Must be like this. “Jax!” Lyla suddenly trotted few steps forward, pounced into a man’s arms. I slightly raised umbrella, looked forward. Just one glance, I was nailed dead on spot. Man wore civilian clothes, helplessly hugged Lyla tight, other hand rubbed her hair. “You ah.” He has a face carved into my marrow. Seven years old, we grew up in officer’s housing together, he stuffed his medal model to me: “Sarah, later my medals all give you.” Fifteen years old, he awkwardly let me throw away love letters from other boys: “Those people not good as me.” Nineteen years old, night before he enlisted, stood downstairs my house till dawn, said must wait him. Twenty-three years old, he selected into Special Forces, no news for three months mission at border, came back lost twenty pounds, first thing was find me at hospital. Last month, he stuffed savings card saved five years to me. “Sarah, wait my promotion this time down, we file marriage report.” Full twenty-one years, childhood sweethearts, we like two poplars growing side by side. But this second. Everything turned to ash. Chapter 2 Rain fell on umbrella surface, tick tock. Until they embraced turned walked towards base side gate, I just recovered from numbness. Phone lit up. Is Jackson. [In training, phone just distributed. What’s up?] Unexpected rainstorm, let my shoes water in. Wet cold touch spread from feet, my legs seemed filled with cement, stiff on spot unable move. I gathered army green coat, that was he gave me, same color as his training uniform. Shaking hand, dialed call again. Connected, but hung up. Jackson sent new message: [Leader beside, not convenient answer. Type if matter.] I bit lip, typed word by word. [In training, or accompanying other woman?] Just about send, brake sound rang behind. “Careful!” I no time react, brought down by an out of control bicycle. Sky spin earth turn, I fell sideways on wet slippery ground. Sharp wet cold spread along clothes, pain slow a beat climbed from knee to heart. Little soldier riding bike busy support me: “Comrade, are you okay?” I saw him wearing uniform, young face full panic, waved hand said: “Fine, you go.” Phone screen smashed, question I wanted send, no follow up. Found a hostel nearby, I took a hot bath. Went downstairs bought new phone, inserted card. Jackson sent new message: [Night training tonight, no video call, chat tomorrow, be good.] I blinked dry eyes, sat on bed edge blankly. I really don’t understand. Why? Why Jackson would cheat? And that girl, does she know she is third party? I opened social software. Although didn’t know specific spelling of her name, I still found her in Jackson’s following list. Her avatar photo, taken in Jackson’s dorm. Military quilt behind, was tofu block I taught him fold. He hugged me then said: “Sarah folded quilt is standard, I have to offer it daily.” Lyla is a travel blogger, fans not few. I scrolled down. Posts related to Jackson, earliest appeared in June. Lyla held man’s arm, background is hiking trail near base. Caption: [First date with brother, so happy!] That trail, was place we would go walk every time I came see him. Clearly he promised: “Sarah, this road I only walk with you, so every step memory is you.” July, Lyla and Jackson went seaside together. Exactly my birthday that day, Jackson said field training, post was accompanying Lyla “first diving”. I cold all over. Jackson didn’t show full face in any photo, but I recognized scar on his wrist, that was cut by glass blocking for me. Opened DM, I sent message to Lyla. [Hello, do you know Jackson has girlfriend? Did he lie to you he is single?] Less than half hour, Lyla posted new update. Dress in picture neckline opened very low, showing collarbone. [Tonight’s battle robe, spoiled to someone, he super loves.] I clenched teeth, cold trembling. Just last month, I went base visit, Jackson gently pushed away my hug. He frowned: “Sarah, you have hospital disinfectant smell on body.” Lyla replied DM. [Dr. Sarah, I know you.] [Feelings matter each rely ability, winner is king.] [But looking now, seems you lost ne.] Chapter 3 I sarcastically pulled mouth corner. Night before Jackson enlisted, he asked me to training ground behind housing. Under moonlight, he wore brand new uniform, saluted to me. “Comrade Sarah, I Jackson Hayes promise you, no matter walk where, you forever my rear.” His eyes bright scary: “Sarah, wait I come back, we file marriage report.” Long distance relationship few years, many people not optimistic about us, we didn’t scatter. When he executed dangerous mission, I dare not ask dare not guess, could only watch news daily. From private to lieutenant, then to Special Forces Captain. He said: “Wait you finish further study from Medical University, can apply transfer to our base hospital.” Just short few months. Happiness one kick away. But today, he let a strange girl sentence me lose. Lyla sent another DM. Is a secretly recorded video. Jackson wore civilian clothes, eyes blurred in bar. Lyla frivolously laughing: “Jax, what kind person is your girlfriend?” Bar music loud, but didn’t cover his reply. “Don’t mention her, same every day.” “Boring very.” He looked at lens, eyes my familiar gentleness: “Play something fresh today?” Lens shook, rang ambiguous kissing sound. Phone screen extinguished, reflecting my pale face. Rushed to toilet retched few times, I opened phone booked train ticket home. Packing luggage, right lower abdomen pain wave after wave, my forehead full sweat beads. Guessed maybe acute appendicitis, I directly took taxi to base general hospital. Flu high season, emergency crowded. I squatted outside clinic, pain couldn’t stand. 3 AM, finally got ultrasound report. Doctor asked me: “Acute appendicitis, need surgery. Where your family?” Coincidentally, Jackson phone called this time. I hung up. He persistent call again. In quiet clinic, phone unique ringtone impossible ignore. I picked up, was his anxious to lost composure tone. “I have a friend ankle sprained, how emergency handle?” That end came Lyla low sobbing. Last trace warmth scattered, I cold voice said: “Handle however you want.” “Sarah! You are military doctor, you listen yourself what you saying?!” Jackson roar came. I curled into a ball, exhausted suppress pain. Remembered he said: “My first aid knowledge all you taught, this life only use for you one person.” Jackson still saying: “She pain cried, you quick tell me how handle.” Eye sockets sour pain, I raised head, poured hot liquid back. Opposite military doctor took out surgery consent form: “Comrade, if family not come, you sign yourself also fine.” Jackson silent few seconds. “You… in hospital?” Not wait me answer, he certain said: “Is night shift right?” “Since you not resting, then answer me difficult ma? You playing what small temper?!” Tears finally smashed down, I gently smiled. “You said right.” “I just playing small temper.” “Jackson Hayes, me and you, end here.” Chapter 4 Phone was hung up by Jackson first. He sneered: “Not say then not say, not like must be you.” Broken tone in receiver and rain drop sound outside window interweaved, made people causeless feel cold. I put down phone, apologetic smile to doctor. “Sorry, let you see joke.” My voice hoarse: “My family can’t come, sign myself fine.” Open eyes again, I lay lonely in ward. Wound faintly aching. Phone added few messages. From hospital leader and parents. After reporting surgery situation to leader, I asked two more days leave. Only facing parents, I inevitably guilty. Mom tone very urgent: “Didn’t say come back today?” “Happened what accident?” Adult collapse, is even heart dead like ash also maintain normal. Deep breath, I relaxed said: “Base general hospital has expert lecture, I just right stay learn two days.” I explained again and again, Mom half believing hung up phone. Enduring pain sleep less than one hour. Jackson pushed open ward door. He put a bunch flowers aside, raised hand touch my face. “Sarah, how you last night…” His fingers have alcohol mixed floral perfume smell. Same perfume smell. I smelled on Lyla yesterday. I turned head, avoided. He lowered eyes, withdrew hand. “I didn’t know you came see me. Today couldn’t contact you, asked your hospital then knew you here.” He looked at back of my head, tone helpless. “Must you be like this?” He took out a medal box, stuffed into my hand. “Make up your New Year gift, don’t angry, hmm?” My palm a piece ice cold. Just five minutes before I entered operating room, Lyla posted update. Her side piled full gifts. She opened one by one, luxury bag, new phone, couple vacation package… Only this custom medal, she dissatisfied muttered: “This has what good looking, I want real one.” Person filming laughed dotingly: “Fine, you don’t fancy I take give comrade okay right?” I extended hand out bed edge, let medal box fall ground. Throat dry. “Jackson, let’s break up.” “Break up?” He unbelievable shook head. Light sneer: “Marriage report I submitted, you break up with me now?” “Sarah, you not child anymore, don’t be so unreasonable.” While speaking, phone in his pocket always vibrating. He took out, lowered head reply. Ward too quiet, let me one glance see clear gentleness and patience between his brows. I repeat: “Break up, withdraw report.” His face completely sank. “Don’t joke, this not funny at all.” I supported body sit up, gave flowers on cabinet to him. “Flowers also take away.” Maybe bought temporarily at hospital gate, inside even clamped two tulips I allergic to. Jackson stood unmoving, bottom eyes had impatience. I carefully looked him once. Face once printed on heart tip, how became different? “Stop fussing.” His voice ice cold. I light pulled lip corner: “Jackson, I saw Lyla.” “Not break up, let her be mistress whole life?” He froze. Chapter 5 Unsteady flower bunch fell ground, all dirty. “What Lyla?” Jackson stared tight at me, epaulets reflected cold hard light under ward lamp. “Who talked nonsense to you?” “Sarah, we together so many years, you have no trust in me at all?” I didn’t speak. Eye rims uncontrolled red. How could I not trust him? That person who set military insurance card password as my birthday, every time before mission wrote “will” give me keep, said “If I can’t come back, you live well”. That person who during border mission, took advantage short communication time only said “Sarah, I hear your breathing sound then solid”. How unknowingly walked apart? I how hope all this is fake. But position stabbed through deep in heart, reminds me must keep sober. He shared his medal to someone else half. So never can piece together complete loyalty. I took out phone, opened DM chat record with Lyla. “Jackson, don’t lie me anymore.” “You know, soldier most value discipline, feelings also.” He stared phone screen. Like nailed on spot, whole body stiff. That training uniform often worn, this moment lined him exceptionally embarrassed. I pretended relaxed: “Just like this.” “My family side I will explain, unit side… you fight report explain yourself.” “Things you gave before I will organize return you, I gave then all don’t want.” I turned head: “Seems also nothing much.” Once thought inseparable love, turns out really arrived cutting day, also just so. Twenty-one years side by side, turns out also just so. No wonder, he can say betrayal then betrayal. “I…” Jackson looked up at me, eyes full bloodshot, before I would heartache, now only feel ironic. He muttered: “I not… I didn’t want break up.” “I just…” I interrupted him: “Don’t explain to me.” “Jackson, don’t explain those details you violated discipline, I am military doctor, also soldier, I understand regulations.” About Lyla various things. All too disgusting. Those details like bullets, repeatedly fired in my mind. Beat once trust and vow into thousand holes, still remind me: Person you loved, unworthy this uniform. “Is me violated discipline.” “Sarah, but I didn’t really want how with her. Just… just pressure too big, moment confused.” Jackson voice hoarse bad: “This matter indeed me didn’t hold, is me shouldn’t.” “But we together so long.” “Sarah, you think, you really bear just don’t want me?” I closed eyes, swallowed blood taste in mouth. “Jackson, don’t apologize, don’t make me victim.” A apology, can’t make up my loss. Instead, make me look more like a betrayed fool. I don’t care his heart journey, don’t want hear his quibble and true fake unknown repentance. I want, is clean crisp cut off. “Sarah! I committed mistake, but did I kill or arson?” “I committed what monstrous crime, let you even look me once unwilling?!” Jackson suddenly excited, tightly grabbed my shoulder. Those hands, once ground blood blisters on training ground, once carried wounded in disaster relief, this moment make me sick. “I later won’t like this okay? I immediately clear with Lyla, later never see her okay?” “You look me, I loved you so many years, how can you be so cruel?!” His hand unconsciously trembling. “You can’t just judge me out, I just wandered mind, not not love you anymore.” He used face stick me, want call back those intimate memories once. But I smelled that perfume again. Turned head, I couldn’t help retched twice. He unbelievable red eye rims, voice trembling: “Sarah, you can’t treat me like this.” Didn’t get my response, he raised volume. “I just committed a mistake, why you just refuse loose mouth?!” “So many people commit mistakes, could it be you have no moment wander mind?” “Who lived used to unchanging life, all want try other, I just…” “I didn’t.” Tears finally couldn’t hold, fell from my eyes. “Jackson Hayes, I didn’t.” In blurred tears, I can’t see his face clear. Once I thought stable military love, turns out is “unchanging” he tired of. “I don’t want anymore, you go!” Finally couldn’t help collapse, I sternly scolded: “You roll! Don’t come disgust me! Don’t stain this uniform!” Those beautiful memories, I don’t want. Future he promised, I don’t want. Past and tomorrow related to him, I all don’t want.

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