Category: English

I decided to fly across two states to surprise my online boyfriend. Instead, I got the surprise, hiding behind a plastic ficus at a loud sports bar, listening to him talk to his friends. “What good is a hot voice if she won’t even send a real picture?” he said, his voice dripping with scorn. “She’s probably a total dog.” A wave of laughter. “If that campus queen hadn’t curved me, I wouldn’t be wasting my time sliding into some rando’s DMs.” “And get this,” he continued, “on top of being ugly, she’s thirsty as hell. Demanded I send a pic to ‘verify the goods’ before we even met.” One of his friends snickered. “No way. You actually send one?” My boyfriend—Ryan—let out a smug grunt. “Yeah. But it wasn’t mine. It was Liam’s.” A collective “Whoa” went around the table. “Your roommate? The guy you said was packing, like, eight inches? For real?” “Dead serious. Why would I lie about that?” Ryan took a drag from his vape, blowing a cloud of sickly-sweet smoke toward the ceiling. “Liam’s a real one. Knew I didn’t want to send my own, so he volunteered to be my, like… my dating stand-in.” A beat of silence, then the table erupted in howling laughter. I laughed, too, a silent, bitter thing. I’d heard of stunt doubles, body doubles. A “dating stand-in” was a new one. Three minutes. That’s all I needed. Three minutes, and I was going to find out everything about this man. 1 I was a good girl. Sweet, considerate, polite. Optimistic, cheerful, a diligent student. Yeah, right. That was the character I played for my parents and their friends. The real me… I was rebellious and sharp-tongued, with a mind that ran wild. I held a grudge like it was a winning lottery ticket, and you really didn’t want to get on my bad side. And I was hungry. In every sense of the word. The summer after high school graduation was a blur of scrolling through TikTok, my thumb swiping past an endless buffet of beautiful men. Lean athletes, sunny-faced pretty boys, cold, brooding grad students—all of them liked, all of them saved to a private collection. Looking turned into wanting. Wanting turned into doing. So, I got myself a boyfriend online. Ryan. A year older, already in college. According to his profile, he was six-foot-two, with shoulders you could build a house on and abs so defined you could do laundry on them. And most importantly: eight inches. Finding a guy like that felt like winning the jackpot. I was on cloud nine. The craziest part? He went to the same university I’d just been accepted to. It felt like fate, like the universe was writing us a love story. He, of course, had no idea. I kept it a secret, planning a huge surprise for the first week of school. To maintain the mystery, I never sent him a single photo that showed my face. Just artsy shots of my hands, my shadow, the back of my head. This drove him crazy. He’d whine over the phone, his voice all pouty, saying I wasn’t being “real” with him. His hometown was just a short bus ride from mine, less than an hour away. So, after weeks of him complaining, I decided to close the distance myself. 2 To his credit, Ryan was great about giving me a sense of security. He’d check in constantly, even sending me the name of the bar where he was hanging out with his friends. It saved me the trouble of having to trick it out of him. I followed the GPS on my phone, the pulsing blue dot leading me straight to a crowded sports bar called “The Dugout.” Dozens of tables were crammed onto a sticky patio, but I spotted him instantly. He was even better-looking in person. It was the height of summer, and the air was thick and hot. A warm breeze blew across the patio, and I could feel my cheeks flush. I took a deep breath, ready to walk over. That’s when I heard it. Ryan slammed his beer mug on the table, his expression a mask of derision. “What good is a hot voice if she won’t even send a real picture? She’s probably a total dog!” My feet froze to the pavement. The blush on my cheeks evaporated, replaced by an icy chill. Then he kept going. “It’s just for fun, anyway. If the campus queen hadn’t curved me, I wouldn’t be wasting my time.” “And get this,” he said, leaning in conspiratorially, “on top of being ugly, she’s thirsty as hell. Demanded I send her a pic.” I bit my lip, my fists clenching at my sides. He was the one who bragged about his size, asking me if I wanted to see. Of course I said yes. Who wouldn’t? But now, in his version of the story, I was the desperate one. Amid the jeers, someone asked the question. “No way. You actually send one?” Ryan grunted, a smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah. But it wasn’t mine. It was Liam’s.” A chorus of “dude, no way” filled the air. “Your roommate? The guy you said was packing, like, eight inches? For real?” Ryan nodded. “Dead serious. Why would I lie?” He took another swig of beer. “Liam’s a real one. Saw I didn’t want to do it and offered to be my, uh… my dating stand-in.” The table was quiet for a second, processing this, before they all burst into roaring laughter. “I can’t even! So, this whole time, she thinks she’s talking to you, but she’s really getting off on you plus… one other thing?” Another round of hoots and hollers. Ryan’s brow furrowed. “It’s not a ‘relationship.’ It’s just messing around. She’s basically a puppy on a leash. The second the semester starts, I’m ghosting her ugly ass.” By then, the words didn’t even sting. My mind was completely consumed by the image that had landed in my DMs a week ago. An image of shocking, breathtaking perfection. What was his name again? Oh, right. Liam. 3 On the bus ride home, I started scrolling through Ryan’s Instagram. It was a monument to his own ego—a hundred photos of himself, and not a single one of anyone else. I sighed. Looks like I’d have to wait until school started to see what this Liam character actually looked like. I mourned this fact for about a second before opening TikTok to scroll through my collection of hot guys. As the bus pulled into the station, I swiped past a campus interview video. The title was “Who’s Your Campus Crush?” I wasn’t really interested and was about to scroll on. But then I heard the name: “Liam.” The automated voice announced my stop. I grabbed my bag and headed for the door, turning the volume on my earbuds all the way up. I played it back three times just to be sure. I hadn’t misheard. And the university name was a match. My mind immediately flashed back to that photo… Campus crush Liam. He had a wild side, didn’t he? 4 As the start of the semester got closer, Ryan grew more and more distant. My texts would sit on “read” for days. I gritted my teeth. If I didn’t still need him for something, I would have blocked him weeks ago. That night, staring at our one-sided text history, I decided to send one last, desperate-looking sticker. This time, he replied almost instantly. “Hey, look, I don’t think this is working out. We can be friends, but I don’t think we should be… you know.” I was lying on my bed, legs crossed in the air, a sheet mask clinging to my face. I saw the message and my eyes lit up. It was finally happening! A grin spread across my face as I typed. “Why? Did I do something wrong? ” His reply was textbook. “No, don’t even think that. It’s me.” I rolled my eyes. Could he be any more cliché? After silently roasting him, I put my plan into motion. “You don’t have to spare my feelings. I know I’m not good enough for you. You deserve someone amazing. I wish you all the best.” I could practically feel his ego inflating through the phone. His guilt and vanity were at war. After a moment, he replied. “You’re a great girl, Zoe. Be more confident. Seriously, I’m the one who’s sorry.” Then, the magic words: “If there’s anything you want, just ask. I’ll make it happen.” My heart leaped. I ripped the mask off my face, sat bolt upright, and hit the call button. He picked up. I sniffled for effect, letting a little sob creep into my voice. “You really mean… anything?” “Yeah, of course,” he said, his voice thick with sincerity. “I kind of figured you weren’t super confident about your looks, and that’s okay, I don’t care about that stuff. If you want to meet up, I can drive down right now…” “Then set me up with a new boyfriend.” I cut him off. I didn’t have the patience for his self-serving monologue. He went silent. Three seconds later, he finally managed a single word: “Huh?” 5 I let out a long, theatrical sigh. “Ryan, the second I saw your pictures, I knew we could never be a real thing.” “You’re so handsome. How could a guy like you ever fall for a plain girl like me? Being your friend is more than I could ever ask for.” Whatever anger he might have been feeling instantly dissolved, replaced by a fresh wave of pity and self-satisfaction. “Zoe, don’t say that about yourself,” he said, his voice earnest. “You’re great. I… I’ll set you up with my roommate. How about that?” “He’s a good-looking guy, too. Tons of girls on campus are after him, but he turns them all down.” “I think it means he doesn’t just care about looks,” Ryan added, selling it hard. “You two should talk. Maybe you’ll hit it off.” I paused for a moment, then let out another soft sigh. “Okay… I guess I can try.” Then, as if it were an afterthought, I asked, “So, what’s his name?” “Liam. His name is Liam.” Bingo. I hid a triumphant smile, schooling my voice to sound hesitant and small. “Okay. Well, can you send me his contact? I’ll add him.” “And Ryan? Thank you.” He chuckled, sounding relieved. “Hey, what are friends for?” 6 Ten minutes later, Liam and I were connected. I immediately clicked on his profile, my heart pounding. His feed was completely blank. His profile picture was the generic default icon. It was like a brand-new account. Was Ryan messing with me? Just as the suspicion took root, a series of notifications popped up. “Hi, Zoe. I’m Liam.” “Ryan said he was introducing you to me. As a potential boyfriend.” “I’ve actually been thinking about getting into a relationship recently, so I think we could give it a try.” “But I’m worried I might not be your type. I’ll send you some photos first. You can decide if you want to move forward after you see them.” I bit my lower lip, my finger hovering over the screen. I held my breath and tapped on the first image. My pupils dilated. If a normal handsome guy made my heart flutter, Liam, even in a static photo, was enough to make me dizzy. He was breathtaking. I squealed and kicked my feet against my mattress like a teenager. Just then, a text from Ryan came through. “Hey, so Liam isn’t the easiest guy to get along with. He’s kind of cold to everyone, a total loner. Don’t get discouraged if he’s not super responsive. You gotta be proactive.” Hmm? I looked back at the new set of pictures Liam had just sent. All of them shirtless, showcasing a perfectly sculpted torso. Cold? A loner? Because from where I was sitting, if this guy was a peacock, his tail feathers were spread so wide they were about to snap. 7 I was so busy saving every single one of Liam’s pictures to my phone that I forgot to reply. He couldn’t stand the silence. “You don’t like them?” “Maybe it was a bad angle. Everyone says I look better in person. How about we meet up? I can come to you.” I raised an eyebrow. He was eager, wasn’t he? I’d read online that when you finally meet your online love in person, things can move incredibly fast. Some people even ended up in bed on the first day… I wasn’t quite ready for that. As I was lost in thought, my finger accidentally tapped open my “hidden” album. There was only one photo in it. Ahem. My face felt hot. My mouth was suddenly very dry. I poured myself a glass of ice water before typing a reply. “No, I like them. You’re very handsome.” “We don’t have to rush to meet. We’re actually going to be at the same school. I just got accepted. We’ll see each other on campus in a few days.” After I sent that, the chat went quiet for a moment. Then, my phone started vibrating. I cleared my throat before answering, pitching my voice a little higher than usual. “Hello?” A deep, lazy voice flowed through the speaker and straight into my ear. “Hey. It’s Liam.” My heart skipped a beat. I touched my burning earlobe and whispered, “I know.” “So,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Are we boyfriend and girlfriend now?” I countered with my own question. “But you don’t even know what I look like. What if I’m ugly? Will you be disappointed?” “No,” he said, without a single hesitation. My cheeks puffed out. That’s what Ryan had said, too. And look how that turned out. Sensing my silence, Liam spoke again, his voice softer this time. “Zoe, I don’t want to lie to you. The truth is… I’ve seen you before.” What? Seen me before? Where? A guy who looked like him? I would have remembered. As my mind raced, Liam continued. “The reason I was so eager to lock things down is because I know you went to his city a few days ago. I’m pretty sure you went there to see Ryan.” I was even more confused. “He didn’t even know I was there. How could you know?” There was a brief pause on his end. “Because,” he said quietly, “he’s been searching for you all over the internet.” 8 Liam sent me a link. I frowned and clicked on it. It led to an Instagram post with a slightly blurry photo. In it, I was in the back of a taxi, my forehead pressed against the cool glass, the city’s neon lights painting streaks across my face. It had a kind of lonely beauty. The caption read: “URGENT – HELP ME FIND THIS GIRL. Saw her tonight, July 7th, near The Dugout in downtown. She’s the most amazing girl I’ve ever seen. I tried to run after her taxi but couldn’t catch up. If anyone knows who this is, please help me out. I’ll be your servant for life!” Seeing that last line, I let out a snort of laughter. I glanced at my calendar. One week until move-in day. This was going to be fun.

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My entire senior class respawned to the days before the college entrance exam—the SATs. Everyone’s eyes lit up. They memorized the answers like zealots and, sure enough, every single one of them scored a near-perfect 1580 or higher. Everyone except me. I stared at the slip of paper in my hand. “650.” My throat tightened. Even this score… was still too high. 01 The day the scores were released, the classroom was buzzing like a beehive. Everyone crowded around the bulletin board. “Zara, are you blind? You got a 650!” The class president shouted it from the front row, sparking a wave of laughter. “How can someone actually get dumber over time?” “Seriously, the whole class is improving, and she’s dragging the average down to hell!” I kept my head down, feeling the mocking gazes pricking me from all directions. I was used to it. In this trashy high school, my genuine love for learning made me a freak. But this time, it was different. Out of a maximum 1600, nearly half the class scored above 1500. We swept the state rankings, taking the valedictorian spot for the entire city and state. This wasn’t a miracle. It was a glitch. The entire class had been sent back in time to before the exam. The moment they respawned, everyone went crazy memorizing the questions and answers. Even Lucas, the class delinquent who usually struggled to spell his own name, scored high enough for the Ivy League. Our class became a city-wide sensation, the poster children for academic excellence. Our homeroom teacher wept openly, thinking his teaching methods had finally paid off. But we all knew the truth—anyone can memorize an answer key. But only me… “Did you get your head caught in a door? You had the answers and couldn’t even break 700?” Jessica, the class queen bee, slammed her test paper onto my desk. Usually, I beat her in everything except looks. Finally, she had her moment. Seeing no reaction from me, she leaned in, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do you want me to tutor you? Oh wait, you wouldn’t understand it anyway.” “No thanks,” I said, folding my paper and stuffing it into my bag. “I’m actually pretty happy with this score.” I calculated this 650 three times to make sure I got it exactly right. They laughed even harder. They didn’t know my backpack was already filled with glue. My test paper was now a wrinkled, sticky mess. … Laugh all you want. Laugh louder. I wonder if you’ll still be laughing when you realize those memorized answers are going to cost you your lives. 02 The next afternoon, the graduation ceremony began on schedule. The lights in the auditorium were aggressively bright. The “high achievers” in the front rows were loud and arrogant. “I wrote a ten-page acceptance speech!” “Does my hair look good for the photos later?” “Why haven’t Harvard and Yale called me begging yet?” I sat silently in the back corner, the designated “loser zone.” It was coming. It was about to start. On stage, the principal was still giving his speech, but the corners of his mouth had split all the way to his ears. With every word he spoke, dark red blood dripped from his chin. No one in the audience noticed. “…Congratulations on successfully completing your exams. Today, we have special rewards for our outstanding students.” I looked down at my transcript—650. Third from the last in the class. I had meticulously calculated this score based on last life’s results. I deliberately filled in wrong bubbles for every subject and wrote only three lines for the essay. Still, it was higher than I hoped. I glanced at the guy who scored 600, the second to last. Liam. A “simple-minded jock” who was ostracized by the class and missed out on the answer key after respawning. Now that is true score control talent! Suddenly, the principal spoke. “First, will all students who scored above 1550 please come to the stage to receive your awards!” A distorted piano melody began to play over the speakers, sounding like a nursery rhyme being strangled. Jason, the study rep in the first row, stood up. His back was straight, his uniform pressed to perfection. The first state valedictorian in our school’s 100-year history. He walked up the stairs, a smug smile plastered on his face, already envisioning his elite university future. And then— Snap. His neck suddenly twisted. Once. Twice. Three times. The sound of bone shattering was crisp, exploding in everyone’s ears. His head rotated 720 degrees before settling at a gruesome angle—face backward, body forward. The auditorium erupted in screams. “Is this… part of the show?” “Maybe it’s special effects…” Before anyone could process it, the principal spoke again. “Awards distributed,” his voice remained gentle. “Next, students with scores above 1500, please come to the stage.” Hearing their names, several students walked toward the stage. Under the deathly spotlight, each performed their own self-destruct sequence, twisting like pretzels. When blood splattered onto the faces of the front row, realization finally hit. This graduation ceremony wasn’t normal. I sat calmly in the back, watching the familiar scene unfold with a cold sneer. In my past life, the whole class chose to respawn immediately after the exam. Only I stayed behind long enough to witness this graduation ceremony—a massacre ordered by test scores. On the graduation banner, the words “Bright Future” were slowly being dyed dark red. 03 Even the dumbest person could figure it out now. The class ranking was the death order. From high to low, no one escapes. Since most of our class had cheated their way to the top, wailing filled the air. “Why did I have to score so high?!” “Sob… can I still go to Stanford…” “I must be dreaming! I have to be!” But reality was ruthless. Those who went up died. Those who refused were dragged up by the surrounding teachers and died anyway. Someone tried to flee the auditorium, but the moment they touched the sunlight outside, they spontaneously combusted. In an instant, corpses littered the floor. Watching the people who had just mocked me turn into meat sacks, I couldn’t help but scoff. They deserved it. Suddenly, a low male voice came from beside me. “You tanked your score on purpose, didn’t you?” I was surprised. I turned to meet a pair of calm eyes—Caleb. He scored 680 this time, just on the edge of the “loser zone.” But he was planning to study abroad anyway, so he just breezed through the test. “What makes you say that?” I asked. “I’m your deskmate. I know your level better than anyone.” True. With my normal ability, scoring 1450+ was no problem. Which is exactly why I was eliminated early in the ceremony in my last life. But my classmates seemed to have forgotten that, only caring about suppressing me. “If they kill based on scores, why didn’t you just hand in a blank paper?” Caleb asked. I shook my head. “The bottom ten students in the grade aren’t allowed to attend graduation.” Like the guy who got last place in our class. He was dead by default. Soon, the awards for the 1500+ scorers were finished. Before the survivors could catch their breath, the principal smiled and announced a choir performance for the graduates. The lights dimmed. The choir, which had appeared on stage unnoticed, slowly turned around. It was the 20-something students who had just died. Jason stood in the front row, his severed neck held together by wire, swaying mechanically to the music as he announced the song title. [Please enjoy a performance by our outstanding graduates: “The White Ship.”] 04 The auditorium fell silent. The living had no idea what was coming next. The piano started. The dead opened their mouths in unison, their rotting vocal cords turning the warm melody into something nauseating. [Blue sky, milky way…] […There sails a little white ship.] My body went rigid. Behind me, Liam, the class idiot, was humming along, oblivious to the danger—until the singing stopped abruptly. Twenty-plus heads snapped toward the audience, their gazes sweeping over faces. “Get down!” I dragged Caleb to the floor. “What are you doing?” Before he could finish his question, a girl in the row ahead of us suddenly stood up. Her mouth curved into an uncontrollable smile, her fingers trembling as they reached for her own neck. “Help…” A tear rolled from her wide, terrified eye, but her fingers snapped with sudden force. Crack! The sound of a cervical fracture exploded over the accompaniment of “The White Ship.” The last image in her eyes was her high-scoring boyfriend on stage, staring at her “lovingly.” “How…” Caleb gasped. “Whenever the singing stops, the people they stare at… die.” No repeats. One-on-one targeting. And they prioritized the high-scorers in the front rows. I watched as over twenty figures stood up one after another. Some laughed and cried as they suffocated themselves with test papers. Some stabbed pens through their temples. The boy in the very front bit through the arteries in his own wrist. The remaining living students were frozen. “Is this… random killing now?” Jessica’s shrill voice pierced the auditorium. Crying and cursing filled the air. Chaos. Aside from Caleb and me, no one knew what was happening. The newly dead swayed to their feet, wearing the same stitched smiles as the choir, and marched in unison toward the stage. Jason affectionately put his arm around a boy who had just killed himself, adjusting his crooked tie. Now, the choir had 46 members. That was 46 pairs of venomous eyes.

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After playing the part of the cowardly, universally despised male lead, I had finally completed my mission. Before faking my death, the System gave me one day to say goodbye to my targets. After three years of biting my tongue, I let loose, going scorched-earth on each and every one of them. 【I’ve been sick of you for ages, you damn poser!】 【Three years of tutoring and your brain is still underdeveloped? Are you an idiot?】 【Who in their right mind would want to be engaged to an old woman like you? You’ve already got one foot in the grave!】 Just as I sent the last message, basking in the glow of sweet satisfaction, the System shrieked in my head. 【We’re screwed, Host! I misread the date…】 【Your actual exit date is in SEVEN DAYS! Aaaah!】 Me: “?” The next second, the doorbell rang, sharp and frantic. 1 This was my third year playing the part of the universally despised male lead. And I had finally completed my mission. For three long years, I’d been the timid, spineless protagonist everyone loved to hate. A ghost at school, my adoptive sister’s beck-and-call boy at home. I had no friends, and my family’s affection was a currency I could never afford. My only stroke of luck was an arranged engagement, a marriage alliance set up by the family. But on the day of the engagement party, the truth detonated: I was the wrong son, switched at birth. A fake heir. The real Sterling heir had been found. In an instant, the world’s scorn, which had been a steady drizzle, became a hurricane directed straight at me. I was, once again, public enemy number one. Perhaps that was the final straw. The System, silent for three years, finally flickered back to life. 【Congratulations, Host. The ‘Universally Despised’ mission is complete. A substantial reward awaits you.】 【Tomorrow, you will return to your original world.】 I blinked, processing. “What about the ‘me’ in this world?” I asked. The System chuckled reassuringly. 【Don’t you worry about that. He’ll just… disappear.】 It sounded too easy. “Are you sure this is it? The final curtain? No more missions?” The System puffed out its digital chest. 【Absolutely! You can cash your check and check out tomorrow!】 A wave of relief washed over me. The System granted me one final day to say my goodbyes. But as I thought about it, who was there to say goodbye to? My death would probably cause less of a ripple than a stone tossed in the ocean. Bored, I picked up my phone, scrolling through my contacts. Just then, it buzzed. A message from “The Poser,” my nickname for her. 【I’ll have the tailor send your suit for the gala tomorrow.】 【For God’s sake, don’t wear one of your own hideous ones. You’re an embarrassment.】 That was my sister, Isabella Sterling. Or rather, my adoptive sister now. The true-born daughter of the family. From the moment I entered this world, she’d looked at me with nothing but disdain. She was a creature of sour moods and venomous words, constantly belittling me. My taste was trash, my intelligence laughable. A kind word from her was rarer than a unicorn. My very presence seemed to offend her senses. But she was the Sterling heiress, Dad’s only daughter. No one dared cross her. Even Mom told me to just grit my teeth and bear it. I had borne it. For three years. I’d been her doormat, her errand boy. But I was leaving tomorrow. And today, I was done bearing it. Me: 【You think your taste in clothes is any better?】 Me: 【Attachment: Image】 Me: 【Is this supposed to be a suit or a pile of shit?】 Me: 【That wasn’t a typo.】 Me: 【You act like you’re some fashion guru, but honestly, even with your rotten personality and non-existent friends, exactly zero people give a damn about you.】 A long pause followed. Then, a single question mark appeared from Isabella. The shock must have short-circuited her brain. The “typing…” indicator blinked on and off for what felt like an eternity. Finally, she wrote: 【What’s wrong with you?】 My fingers flew across the screen. 【Nothing’s wrong with me.】 【I’m just sick of your bullshit.】 【You damn poser.】 Silence. She was probably seeing red, a fury so pure it could power a small city. What did I care? I put her on mute. A soft knock on my door. A maid peeked in. “Mr. Sterling, the car is waiting. It’s time for your school event.” Even as the fake heir, my parents felt some lingering obligation, enough to see me through high school. The ride to school was heavy with unspoken tension. The driver, sensing the storm brewing at home, was silent, afraid to say the wrong thing. The car hadn’t even come to a full stop when I opened the door and a furious voice lashed out. “Bruce, do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for you?” 2 I looked up. A girl stood before me, chest heaving with rage, her eyes shooting daggers. I gave her a slow, deliberate once-over. “And why, exactly, were you waiting for me?” Janet Thornton’s jaw dropped. “?” “I was taking pity on you!” she sputtered, her voice incredulous. “No one wants to be your partner for the coming-of-age gala tonight. I was doing you a favor by being your date, and this is the attitude I get?” The Thorntons and the Sterlings were old family friends. Janet and I were, for all intents and purposes, childhood friends. With her sharp, vibrant beauty, she was one of the most popular girls at school. Our parents had once even floated the idea of an engagement between us. An idea Janet had publicly and viciously shot down. I still remembered the look of pure disgust on her face, as if she’d been forced to swallow a fly. “Engaged to him?” she had sneered. “Are you insane? Are you trying to make me puke?” Her very public rejection had made me the laughingstock of our social circle for a solid year. But her reaction had served its purpose, earning me a cool 100 experience points and completing a third of my mission. Thinking back, I didn’t really want to give her a hard time. But then, a couple of her cronies passing by decided to chime in. “Yeah, Bruce. Making Miss Thornton wait for you? Who do you think you are?” “Don’t tell me you’re still playing hard to get. It’s pathetic.” Janet’s lips pressed into a thin, hard line. She took a step forward, her voice tight with anger. “Bruce. I’m talking to you!” I looked up, feigning confusion. “What is it? You’re blocking my way to the building.” She laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. “Did you not hear a single word I just said? Aren’t you even going to apologize?” I blinked. “Apologize? To who?” I paused for effect. “To you?” “Do you really think you deserve one?” Janet froze, stunned into silence. “You decided to wait for me, but you never told me,” I continued, my voice calm. “What am I, a mind reader? And for the record, I never asked you to be my date. So who exactly is this little drama for? Here, let me get you a tissue. Maybe if you squeeze out a few crocodile tears, it’ll be more convincing.” Her two hangers-on jumped to her defense. “Janet was just trying to be nice because she felt sorry for you! And you throw it back in her face!” “Why are you being so nasty? You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” I shot them a bored look. “Duh, of course it’s on purpose. What’s the point of saying it if it isn’t nasty?” I looked them up and down. “Did you two share a single brain cell and lose it? As nasty as my words are, the three of you aren’t exactly deserving of poetry.” Janet was the first to snap out of it, lunging forward to grab my arm. “Bruce—” My bodyguard smoothly stepped between us. I glanced back at her, my voice dripping with condescension. “While I’m feeling generous, you’ve got five seconds to spit out whatever else you have to say.” But the expression on her face wasn’t the fury I expected. It was… confusion. A deep, unsettling bewilderment. “Bruce, today you’re…” she stammered. “Are you sick?” I’d braced myself for an explosion, a tirade, anything. But this? This was all she had? I’d been surrounded by a bunch of amateurs. All this time, I’d seriously overestimated them. 3 I ignored Janet and headed straight for the principal’s office upstairs. I had more important things to do. A school gala held no appeal for me. It was just an excuse for the beautiful people to dance and take pictures. As the resident outcast, I was never anyone’s first choice for a dance partner, so I hadn’t even bothered to prepare, showing up in a simple hoodie and jeans. When I came out of the principal’s office, the way people looked at me in the hallway had changed. Their whispers were like the rustling of dry leaves. “So he’s not really a Sterling…” “That explains it. He never had that Sterling air about him…” “He and his sister are from two different worlds. Poor Isabella, having to put up with an adopted brother like that.” The winds carrying the news of my true identity had finally reached the school. I glanced at my phone and saw twenty missed calls. All from Isabella. A number that had been dormant for a decade suddenly flooding my screen with calls and texts. I almost thought she’d bought one of those spam-call packages online. I didn’t bother calling back, just tapped open her messages. There were too many to read. The last one caught my eye. Isabella: 【I’m coming back tomorrow.】 She was still overseas on a business trip. I stared at the message, unsure how to respond. Finally, I just locked my phone. Whatever. It was her house. She could come and go as she pleased. As I was heading downstairs, I ran into Janet again. She was dressed in a formal gown, her features sharper and more mature than I remembered. Seeing me, her lips tightened, suppressing her irritation. “Bruce, why haven’t you changed yet?” she demanded in a low voice. “I’m not dancing,” I said, frowning. Janet seemed to be on a different planet today. From past experience, her dance partner for the night should have been Alex Ryder, the most popular guy in our year. As she was about to say something else, my bodyguard stepped forward, politely but firmly blocking her path. “Miss Thornton, Mr. Sterling is engaged to Miss Lockwood.” Janet’s expression instantly turned to ice. “I know that! You don’t have to tell me!” I cupped a hand to my ear. “Let’s go,” I said to the bodyguard, turning away. Once in the car, I saw a few of Janet’s friends swarm around her. They were whispering and gesturing towards my family’s car, smirks on their faces. Janet’s expression shifted from confusion to utter shock. I could guess what they were telling her—the juicy gossip about my parentage. The car began to move. Suddenly, Janet shouted my name, her voice filled with urgency. “Bruce—!” She started running after the car, her gown hindering her steps. The driver accelerated, and the window slid shut, cutting off the sound of her frantic calls. I watched her figure shrink in the rearview mirror until she was just a tiny, dark speck. I turned to the bodyguard beside me. “What do you think she’s doing?” He considered this for a moment. “Training for a marathon, perhaps.” 4 When I got home that evening, the head maid hurried to greet me. “Mr. Sterling, Miss Lockwood came by this afternoon,” she said. “She left when she found you weren’t home.” Eleanor Lockwood. My fiancée. But since the news about my identity broke, she hadn’t contacted me for a week. The engagement was nothing more than a business arrangement brokered by our parents. I understood she had no feelings for me. “What did she want?” I asked. The maid thought for a moment. “She said she couldn’t reach you, so she came to check.” My parents were away, and Isabella was out of the country. It was just me and the staff at home. I pulled out my phone. Sure enough, buried under a pile of group chat notifications was Eleanor’s icon, glowing with a red dot. 【Are you free? I’d like to talk about the engagement.】 My impression of Eleanor was neutral. She was conventionally attractive, but her eyes were cold, and she had a habit of looking down her nose at people. We had only met four or five times, and each time she was like a statue. No matter what I said, no matter what topic I tried to broach, she would turn her head away, her disinterest a palpable force field. She wouldn’t even spare me a glance. I’d heard she was a prodigy, skipping grades since elementary school before returning from abroad to take over her family’s company. An alliance with her was, frankly, above the Sterlings’ station. But the Lockwood family owed ours a debt from long ago, so I was the one who lucked out. Eleanor was probably resentful, but she couldn’t defy her family. So she took her frustration out on me with a suffocating cold shoulder. I, in turn, was an expert at quietly taking the abuse. After a while, I’d almost forgotten what she looked like, except for the memory of a very sharp jawline. I dialed her number and put it on speaker, busying myself with other things. “Bruce,” her voice, steady and cool, came through the phone. “I called to discuss the engagement party.” Our first attempt at an engagement party had been spectacularly derailed by the whole “real heir” drama, forcing a hasty postponement. “Nothing to discuss,” I said casually. “I’m calling it off.” Silence on the other end. Then, “You’re calling it off? Why?” “No reason,” I said breezily. “Just don’t feel like being engaged to you.” I was leaving tomorrow. The kid gloves were off. I was done playing their game. It was time they realized they weren’t the center of the universe. “Look, I’ll be blunt,” I explained with mock sincerity. “It’s your age, you know? I don’t have a geriatric fetish.” Her voice was tight, suppressing a volcano of rage. “I am only six years older than you.” “Only six years?” I exclaimed, feigning shock. “That’s huge! You’ll be thirty in a few years. After thirty comes forty, and after forty, you’re halfway to the grave. It won’t be long before you’re pushing up daisies.” Eleanor took a deep, shuddering breath. Each word sounded like it was being ground between her teeth. “Who… told you to say that?” I was losing patience. “That’s not important. The point is, you’re getting on in years. Let’s just call it a day and go our separate ways.” Without waiting for a reply, I hung up. The key to winning these arguments was never to let them drag you into justifying yourself. I might be the fake heir, but so what? In this narrative, she was the old one, and I was the one who couldn’t be bothered. With that mess handled, I opened my phone, accepted a new friend request, and sent over a list of instructions for the new house. Time for a long bath and a good night’s sleep. Just before bed, I summoned the System one last time. 【What time are you picking me up tomorrow?】 The System seemed… off. It stammered, unusually solicitous. 【Well… about that…】 【Why don’t you get some rest first? You’ve had a long day.】 After fighting three battles with three different people, I was exhausted beyond belief. I figured the System was just busy and didn’t think much of it. I’d sleep soundly, and when I opened my eyes, I’d be back home in my own world. And I did sleep soundly. In my dreams, I was a master of martial arts, leaving my tormentors bruised and beaten. I woke up feeling sore all over. I yawned and stretched, habitually reaching for my phone. It had exploded with missed calls and unread messages. The Poser: 【I’m almost home. I brought a doctor.】 The Firecracker: 【I knew it was the fake heir thing that pushed you over the edge. I’m coming to see you!】 The Ice Queen: 【I was up all night thinking. Is someone else trying to steal you away? We need to talk. In person.】 Downstairs, the maid’s panicked voice drifted up. “Mr. Sterling, you have guests—” “And I don’t think it’s just one—” Seriously? You guys move this fast? “System!” I hissed. “Get me out of here, now! They’re storming the castle!” There was a long, painful silence before the System spoke, its voice barely a whisper. 【Host… I… I misread the date…】 A cold dread washed over me. “And?” The System offered a weak, digital laugh. 【Your escape date is actually… in seven days…】 I froze. What?

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My father was paralyzed in a car accident. My childhood sweetheart, Lara, secretly changed her college major to pre-med, vowing to help him walk again. I was so moved that I dropped out of school, worked every odd job I could find, and gave half of the money I earned for his medical bills to her, to fund her education. Eventually, I became Lara’s husband, and she became my father’s doctor. But last night, my father fell from his hospital bed. He pressed the call button all night, struggling, but the doctor who had vowed to save him never came. By the time I rushed back with the money for his surgery, the fingers he had wrapped around the call button were already cold and stiff. The next morning, Lara finally showed up. She was clinging to the arm of a handsome young male assistant, her voice a playful pout. “From now on, whatever your father needs, I’ll be there in a heartbeat. Isn’t that why I became a doctor? To protect the ones I love?” I gathered all of my father’s belongings and left a single sheet of paper on the empty bed: a divorce agreement. But Lara and her assistant blocked my way. 1 I felt nothing but a hollow numbness as I packed away my father’s things. When I finally looked up, the sky was already turning a pale, washed-out gray. The on-call room door was ajar, the room empty. The night had passed. But my sun would never rise again. I stared, transfixed, at the two names on the duty roster. On-Call Physician: Dr. Lara Song. On-Call Assistant: Alex Cheng. When did it start between them? I had no idea. In the beginning, I worked day and night, taking any job I could get just to make ends meet. Later, all my energy was focused on caring for my paralyzed father. For more than a decade, I’d been running on fumes, held together by sheer willpower. I wasn’t blind. I’d seen the lingering glances between Lara and Alex, the way they always seemed to be touching. But I didn’t have the strength to confront them. Besides, my father’s recovery depended on her. Now, the reason for my silent endurance was gone. Maybe our marriage had been a lifeboat adrift on a stormy sea for a long time. The sound of a man and woman laughing echoed from the end of the hallway. “From now on, whatever your father needs, I’ll be there in a heartbeat. Isn’t that why I became a doctor? To protect the ones I love?” The coquettish voice belonged to my wife of five years, Lara. Her slender fingers were wrapped around the arm of a handsome young man. His name was Alex. He was a recent graduate, Lara’s new assistant. He radiated youthful energy, dressed in a tailored white shirt and gleaming leather shoes, the cuffs of his trousers adorned with gold-thread embroidery. Not like me. I glanced down at the oil stain on my T-shirt, the hole in my jeans. “Jules? Are you okay? Your eyes are all red,” Alex said, finally recognizing the disheveled man in front of him. He looked away, a flicker of guilt in his eyes as he quickly pulled his arm from Lara’s grasp. Annoyed, Lara slipped her hand behind her back and hooked her pinky finger around his. Her smile vanished when she looked at me, her gaze impatient. “Julian, they say no son stays loyal at a sickbed for long. You know your father can’t be left alone, so what are you doing wandering around out here?” “Don’t think you can just relax now that I’ve agreed to do his surgery.” I felt a strange sense of calm. “You were the doctor on duty last night, weren’t you?” I asked, my voice flat. “Were all the patients in this ward less important than your date?” Alex gave me an oily, placating smile, his voice laced with a feigned innocence. “Jules, you’ve got it all wrong! My dad threw out his back yesterday, so I had to ask Dr. Song to come home with me and take a look.” I looked up and met his eyes, saw the challenge hiding beneath the surface. “Every doctor has their own responsibilities. You abandoned your patients and left your post without permission. Have you no professional ethics?” I turned to Lara, the carefully contained emotions finally breaking free. Grief and rage surged in my chest, forcing broken words through my clenched teeth. “Lara, let’s get a divorce. I wish you two a long and happy life together.” The love I once felt for her had become a blade, and it was twisting in my heart. She was the one who said she would save him. And she was the one who let him die. I remembered that day, years ago, when she held my father’s hand, her voice full of encouragement. Uncle, please, don’t give up hope. I’ll become the best orthopedic surgeon there is, and I’ll help you walk again. But last night, my father pressed the call button again and again and again. All he got was silence. Lara. The brilliant surgeon. The perfect daughter-in-law. My childhood sweetheart, my wife. For a handsome assistant she’d known for a few weeks, she had betrayed a decade of love and abandoned the promise she’d made at my father’s bedside. She’d thrown away even the most basic duty of a doctor. “Can you stop being so dramatic?” she snapped. “I’ve been up all night, I’m exhausted. We can talk about this at home!” Our argument was suddenly interrupted. “Dr. Song, Alex. I trust there were no incidents last night?” It was Dr. Evans, the head of orthopedics. Lara glanced toward my father’s room, a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, but then she nodded firmly. “None at all. What could possibly happen in the ortho ward? Besides, there are only ten patients.” “Perhaps, but we can’t afford to be careless,” Dr. Evans said, handing her my father’s chart. “I told Alex yesterday that this patient’s surgery had to be postponed. I noticed he was having chest pain and shortness of breath—I suspect it’s pneumonia from being bedridden for so long. I told you to arrange a respiratory consult immediately. The results should be back by now, right?” 2 Lara’s eyes darted to Alex. A flash of panic crossed his face, and he quickly avoided Dr. Evans’s gaze. Lara understood immediately and took the blame herself. “I’m his primary physician. His son has been caring for him personally, turning him over eight times a night. There’s no way he could have pneumonia. It’s probably something minor.” Dr. Evans frowned, his voice a low reprimand. “Lara, there is no such thing as a ‘minor’ issue with a patient. You have to be vigilant about every detail. And for God’s sake, his son is standing right here. Watch your tone.” Their words left me frozen in place. Ever since Lara had become his doctor, my father’s condition had actually started to improve. She’d told me about a new surgical technique, a spinal reconstruction, that could help him. If it was successful, he could leave his wheelchair behind and walk again. For the first time in years, I’d felt a glimmer of hope. But my father had refused the surgery. I knew he was afraid of the risks, terrified of ending up in an even worse state, of becoming an even bigger burden on Lara and me. But just last night, he had called out to me, his voice raspy, waking me from the cot beside his bed. “Jules, tell Lara to schedule the surgery.” “I’ve made up my mind. I’d rather take the gamble than be trapped in this bed for the rest of my life.” “In the locked drawer in my bedroom, there’s some money I saved up. Go home and get it.” “I know Lara makes good money, but it’s not right to always be asking her to pay. This one… I’ll pay for this one myself.” He handed me a small key. I was ecstatic. It wasn’t just about the hope of him walking again; it was a sign that he had found the courage to truly live. Then I glanced at the clock on the wall and came back to my senses. It was 1 a.m. “Dad, it’s too late,” I said softly. “Get some rest. I’ll go home and get the money first thing in the morning.” He shook his head, his movements slow, almost robotic. “Son, I’ve been trapped in this bed for over a decade. I can’t wait another minute.” It was a two-hour round trip by taxi from the hospital to our house. He saw my hesitation and held up the call button. “Don’t worry, this is a hospital. Lara’s on duty tonight. If I need anything, I’ll just call her.” He pleaded and insisted until I finally, reluctantly, agreed. Before I left, I noticed the on-call room was empty. I figured Lara was probably doing her rounds and didn’t think much of it. By the time I returned with the surgery money, my father’s fingers, wrapped around the call button, were already stiff. The doctor in the morgue had said, “He probably passed away not long after you left.” “But he was in the hospital! The on-call room is right next door, the call button was in his hand! Didn’t any of the doctors or nurses notice?” I’d pleaded. “He might have been saveable,” the doctor had replied, his voice full of a gentle regret. I had nothing to say to that. I lowered my head and arranged for his body to be taken care of. If I could trade anything to turn back time, I would. I would have stayed by his side. I wouldn’t have let Lara abandon her post for a tryst. I wanted to tear myself to pieces. And then I wanted to drag Lara down with me, to make her lie beside my father in his grave. But when I finished packing his things and ran into a late-arriving Lara and Alex, the rage turned to despair. Even if they paid with their lives, it wouldn’t give my father back that one night. Lara, sensing Dr. Evans’s displeasure, waited until he was gone before scribbling out a few requests for lung scans and shoving them at me. “If your father wasn’t feeling well, why didn’t you tell me directly? What kind of son are you?” I ignored her. I opened the insulated container my father had left behind. Inside were the last of his sweet rice dumplings. The glutinous skins, soaked soft in the broth, had split, spilling their sweet black sesame filling. Numbly, I started shoveling them into my mouth. The sweetness of the dumplings and the salt of my tears mixed on my tongue, turning to bitter ash. When I didn’t answer, Lara snatched the spoon from my hand. “Did you hear me? I’m talking to you.” The edge of the spoon scraped against my gums. A trickle of soupy broth and blood ran from the corner of my mouth, dripping onto the clean floor. She threw the spoon down in disgust, making no effort to hide her revulsion. “What is your problem? Who are you trying to impress with that ‘my-dad-just-died’ face?” Alex handed me a tissue, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “Jules, it’s all my fault. I was in such a panic, I made Dr. Song leave during her shift to go help my dad.” Lara strode forward, pulling Alex behind her. “Don’t you dare take the blame for this. He’s just looking for trouble. He thinks his father’s life is the only one that matters!” 3 I picked up the spoon and scooped up another broken dumpling, my words muffled as I shoved it into my mouth. “Lara, do you remember the promise you made to my father?” My dad was a truck driver. He raised me on his own, earning money hauling cargo on long-haul routes. Right before my college entrance exams, he worked for a month straight without a break, trying to save up for my tuition. He fell asleep at the wheel. The crash didn’t kill him, but it damaged his spine, leaving him paralyzed and completely dependent on others. I gave up my exams and dropped out of school to take care of him. And Lara, who had grown up with me, put down her paintbrushes and picked up a scalpel. Her promise still echoed in my ears. I met her stunned gaze and repeated her words, one by one. “You said you were giving up art willingly, to become a good doctor who could save people.” “You said you would be my loving wife, faithful and true, until the end of time.” I looked down at her, the bitter-sweet taste filling my mouth. “My father died because you abandoned your post. You didn’t keep either of those promises.” Alex looked terrified. “No way!” he blurted out. “Can a dead man press a call button? If I hadn’t silenced it last night, he would have woken up the entire floor!” His words were like a lit match to a fuse. I snapped. I lunged at him, wanting nothing more than to smash my fists into his smug face. But Lara threw her arms around me, holding me back. Her body was soft, but her words were like ice. “Alex just graduated, he doesn’t know how things work. He just accidentally overlooked your father’s needs.” “I apologize on his behalf. But you need to stop. Don’t use your father’s death to make a scene.” The container of rice dumplings clattered to the floor, spilling across the tiles. Lara’s eyes were red-rimmed. The warmth and affection she had once reserved for me were now being given to someone else. Alex shot me a triumphant smirk. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “On what grounds are you apologizing for him? As my wife? As my father’s doctor? Or as his lover? Who’s the one making a scene with my father’s death?” “Lara, you’re a married woman, lusting after a fresh-faced graduate. Have you no shame? If you had regrets, you should have just told me. I would have let you go.” It takes two to tango. There had been signs of her changing heart for a long time. The first thing she did when she got to college was video call me to introduce me to her new classmates and professors. Now, she never even mentioned our relationship. She was beautiful and brilliant, the heir apparent to the department head. Her life was perfect, except for her uneducated husband and her dependent, burdensome father-in-law. And Alex came from a wealthy, well-connected family. He was carefree and irresponsible, a passionate spirit who lived by his own rules. He was everything I wasn’t, and he had captivated her. Without me, they would have probably gone public with their affair a long time ago. My words hit a nerve. A flicker of annoyance crossed her face. “And what good would regretting it do?” she sneered. “Would it let me escape this white hell that reeks of disinfectant?” “Would it let me pick up my paintbrushes and be an artist again?” “Can I get back the decade of my youth that I wasted?” I couldn’t take it anymore. I raised my hand to slap her. But Alex jumped in front of her, raising his own fist, ready to strike. THUD. It was the sharp crack of metal hitting bone.

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On our seventh wedding anniversary, I found a dowry list in my husband Felix’s safe. It wasn’t for me. It was for his ex-girlfriend. The list was staggering: an $18.88 million settlement, ten sets of limited-edition designer jewelry, and two luxury condos in New York City. A stark contrast to my own marriage. When I married Felix, I signed a prenuptial agreement. No dowry, not even a single piece of jewelry. Even the house we lived in, our supposed marital home, wasn’t mine. “What do you think you’re doing, going through my things again?” I turned to see him standing in the doorway, his face a mask of cold annoyance. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I simply looked at him, my voice eerily calm. “Felix, let’s get a divorce.” His brow furrowed slightly. He strode into the room, snatched the crimson list from my hand, and ripped it into confetti. “It’s an old relic. Are you really going to blow this out of proportion?” He didn’t spare me another glance, turning his back and walking away as if I were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. And just as calmly, I picked up my phone and called my lawyer. I was leaving with nothing. 1 My lawyer was efficient. By six that evening, the divorce papers were in my inbox. He must have felt a pang of guilt, drafting such a simple agreement for a client who was walking away empty-handed from a marriage to a man of Felix’s stature. “Clara,” he began, his tone hesitant, “are you absolutely sure about this? Given your husband’s net worth, you could fight for a much more substantial settlement.” A bitter smile touched my lips. A settlement? There was nothing to settle. For years, Felix’s official salary had been a symbolic one dollar. As for his company dividends, he had made it crystal clear before we married: they were pre-marital assets. They had nothing to do with me. So while other brides got lavish European weddings and honeymoons, I got a stack of legal documents to sign, meticulously detailing the division of property that left me with none. I never thought much of it. Felix was a businessman, after all. Calculating, meticulous—I understood that. But that dowry list shattered my understanding. It turned my entire marriage into a cruel joke. Because every single item on that list—the jewelry, the condos, the cash—was identical to the assets listed in the prenup I signed. The assets that were explicitly not mine. The wedding ring on my finger? It wasn’t for me. It was meant for her. The ten sets of designer jewelry I had so carefully cleaned and stored? They were hers. This very house, our home? It was bought for her. His ex-girlfriend never claimed them. But even as his wife, I could never have them either. A suffocating pain tightened around my chest, making my hands tremble. Still, I managed to keep my voice steady as I spoke to my lawyer. “No, this is enough.” I ended the call and connected my phone to the printer. But as my finger hovered over the Wi-Fi password prompt, another wave of bitterness washed over me. The password: FLovesEM. I never understood it before. But now, it hit me with the force of a physical blow. Felix loves Elara. Elara—the name elegantly scrawled at the bottom of the dowry list. It all clicked into place. Three years ago, the Wi-Fi went out. I called a technician, had a new router installed, and changed the password to something simple. When Felix came home that night, he couldn’t connect. His rage was immediate and terrifying. He stormed into the bedroom and yanked me from a deep sleep. “Did you change the Wi-Fi password?” he demanded, his face a cold, hard mask. His fury jolted me awake. “The old router was broken,” I stammered. “I had it replaced.” He said nothing more that night, but his silence was a weapon. He immediately called the provider, paying a ridiculous fee to have a technician come out in the middle of the night and change the password back. For the next seven days, he treated me like I was invisible. He refused the food I cooked, slept in the guest room, and ignored every word I said. The silence became unbearable. I finally broke down, apologized, and promised never to touch his things again. Only then did he deign to speak to me. The memory was a fresh stab of pain. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing the past away, and hit “print.” Once the documents were ready, I signed my name on the dotted line. Then I called a friend in real estate. It was time to find a new place. 2 Thanks to my friend, the search was quick. I wasn’t picky. By that afternoon, I had paid the deposit and first month’s rent on a small apartment. It was eight o’clock by the time I got home, but I stopped at the market anyway. Divorce or not, I wanted this to end with some semblance of peace. I cooked his favorite meal and waited. Ten o’clock came and went. Then eleven. Just after midnight, the front door finally opened. Felix walked in, his expression souring when he saw me on the sofa. He tossed his suit jacket onto a chair, already loosening his tie. “That’s enough, Clara. Stop this little drama.” He started towards the bedroom, not even glancing at the untouched dinner on the dining table. He didn’t say another word to me. My fists clenched. “Felix,” I called out, my voice cutting through the silence. “Here are the divorce papers. Please sign them.” He froze, his body tensing. He turned slowly, his eyes burning with irritation. “Is this still about that list? Fine. You want the house? I’ll add your name to the deed. Is that what you want?” I almost laughed. Did he really think this was about money? If I had been after his money, I never would have married him in the first place. He would never know. He would never understand the years I spent loving him from afar, a secret I had carried from middle school through graduation. My entire youth was a quiet orbit around him. I wrote 999 love letters I never had the courage to give him. For six years, I made sure there was milk and bread on his desk because he always forgot breakfast. I was a silent, lovesick guardian, content to just watch over him. Then, after college, a twist of fate brought us together on a blind date. So I endured it all. The dates he stood me up, leaving me waiting alone outside the movie theater. The rainy nights he promised to pick me up, leaving me soaked and shivering on the curb. I never once thought of leaving. When he proposed, without a shred of genuine ceremony or warmth, I said yes. There was no grand reason. It’s just who I am—the kind of person who has to crash into a wall to finally learn to turn back. But after ten years—three dating, seven married—I’ve hit that wall enough. I’m done. Taking a deep, shaky breath to quell the ache in my chest, I stood up. “That won’t be necessary,” I said, my voice firm. “I truly want a divorce.” I looked him straight in the eye, my resolve hardening. “When I wake up tomorrow, I expect to see these papers signed and on the coffee table.” Then, for the first time, I mirrored his own cold indifference. I walked past him without another word, went into our bedroom, and locked the door. A moment later, the house erupted with his furious roar. “Fine, Clara! You want a divorce? I’ll sign it right now!” The sound of something smashing against the wall followed. “But after this, don’t you dare come crawling back to me, because I will never take you back!” The door to his study slammed shut. Listening to the rage outside, my heart, already bruised, felt like it was being pierced by a thousand tiny needles. Crawling back to him? He seemed to have forgotten. In seven years of marriage, I had begged him hundreds of times. On our first anniversary, I called him, pleading, “Can we please go to that new restaurant tonight? To celebrate?” He’d agreed, but just like when we were dating, he forgot. He called me at the time of our reservation to say he had a last-minute meeting, then hung up before I could reply. And the honeymoon in the Maldives he promised? For seven years, I asked him, “Do you have time this year? Can we finally go?” And every year, the answer was the same: “Business is slow. I’m too busy.” That promised honeymoon remained a debt he never paid. I used to wonder why, after a decade together, there was still an invisible wall between us. The dowry list gave me the answer. It was simple. He never loved me at all. 3 When I woke the next morning, Felix was gone. In his place, scattered across the floor outside my bedroom, were the shredded remains of the divorce papers. For a dizzying second, seeing the white confetti on the carpet, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe he didn’t want this. Maybe he wasn’t completely heartless. Then my phone buzzed, and reality crashed back in. It was a message from an unknown number, a woman who had added me on a messaging app a month ago. Her friend request read: I’m back. Time to give Felix back to me. Stunned, I had accepted. Since then, she had been torturing me with a steady stream of photos. Felix at a nail salon with her. Felix strolling along the beach with her. Felix kissing her under the soft glow of a streetlight. She was the one who told me the password to his safe. She was the one who told me to look for the dowry list. This time, the picture was of Felix’s face, asleep on a pink pillow. Bitch, I heard you found the list in the safe yesterday. See? I told you I wasn’t lying. By the way, all those things Felix gave you? I want you to have them professionally cleaned and sent to me. I have a thing about cleanliness; I don’t like other women touching my possessions. I only let Felix marry you because I had to focus on my studies. You were a clean option, at least. Better to have you warm his bed than some random slut. Oh, and you have seven days. Seven days to divorce him. Otherwise, I don’t care if he’s married. I’ll sleep with him anyway. Don’t even think he won’t touch me. You have no idea how passionate he gets. He’s been coming to my place every night after work since I got back. We’ve come close to crossing the line so many times. If I wasn’t trying to avoid the “homewrecker” label, I’d probably be pregnant with his child by now. Anyway, I have to go. Felix’s waking up, and I need to brush my teeth before giving him his good morning kiss. The messages stopped. Tears blurred my vision, fat drops splashing onto the screen. Through the haze, I typed a shaky reply. You don’t like other women touching your things? You do realize I’ve fucked him more times than you can count, right? I sent it. No reply came. My impotent rage felt like punching a pillow, a suffocating frustration that twisted into sharp knives in my heart. So that’s why he was smashing things at midnight. It wasn’t because I’d asked for a divorce. I had foolishly, pathetically allowed myself to hope he was angry about losing me. No. He was just in a hurry to get to his ex-girlfriend’s bed. The last thread of hope inside me snapped. My fingers trembled as I sent a message to Felix. Felix, are you free today? I’d like to go to City Hall and file for divorce. 4 Just like my message to Elara, my text to Felix went unanswered. For half an hour, I watched the “…” appear and disappear as he typed, but nothing ever came through. My calls went straight to voicemail. Instead, a new message from Elara popped up. It was a voice memo. Her voice, laced with smug annoyance, filled the air. “God, you’re so annoying. Why do you keep calling him? Don’t you know how much we hate it when you interrupt our time together?” My heart seized. I fought back the fury and typed: I asked Felix for a divorce last night. If you want this to happen, tell me where he is. She didn’t reply. I was done waiting. With trembling hands, I booked a moving company online and started to pack. Or rather, to throw things away. Our wedding photos? Gone. Our matching couple’s mugs that he never used once? Gone. The expensive clothes I’d bought for him that he never wore? Gone. When the movers arrived, the living room was piled high with the ghosts of our marriage. I told them to take it all to the dump. Then, with their help, I packed my own belongings. Even though I’d lived in this house for seven years, it only took an afternoon. My life fit into a few dozen boxes. As the moving truck pulled away, I looked back at the house one last time. I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. I had just finished unpacking the essentials in my new, empty apartment when my phone buzzed again. It was Elara. A dropped pin. A location. Come get him. He’s here. My grip on the phone tightened. After a long moment, I typed back a single word. Okay. I changed into a comfortable set of athletic wear, then grabbed the golf club I’d made a point to take from Felix’s house. I called a car. After a month of Elara’s torment, it was time she got a taste of her own medicine.

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My sister fell in love with the Crown Prince of New York’s elite circle at first sight. To create an “opportunity,” she didn’t hesitate to spike his drink at the gala. This time, I didn’t stop her. Instead, I personally delivered the drink for her. I even thoughtfully booked her the presidential suite. In my past life, I saw her drugging the drink and kindly tried to stop her. I warned her that the Sterling family had deep connections in both the legal and underground worlds—we couldn’t afford to offend them. That night, Julian Sterling found another woman to relieve the effects, and the next day, he announced a whirlwind engagement. My sister didn’t say anything to my face, but on the drive home, she shoved me off the overpass. I died instantly, crushed into a pulp by a speeding truck. Before I took my last breath, she screamed that I had ruined her only chance to marry into a billionaire family. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the gala. This time, I’m going to sit back and watch her destroy herself. 1 I watched as Julian Sterling downed the spiked wine. My sister, Bella, stood in the distance, her eyes gleaming with calculation. Two minutes later, the drug kicked in. A flushed, unnatural red crept up Julian’s neck. His private bodyguards immediately stepped in, supporting him as they moved toward the elevators. I flashed Bella an “OK” hand sign and slipped her the room key card. I tried to slip away, but she grabbed my arm in a vice grip. She lowered her voice, threatening me: “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re thinking! You aren’t going anywhere until this is a done deal!” “Stay at the door and be my lookout! If Julian’s people see you, you know what to say and what not to say!” She thought I was going to lecture her like before. instead, I shook her hand off. I glanced at the bodyguards who had already clocked her suspicious behavior and smiled. “Relax. You’re my sister. If I don’t help you, who will?” “Just don’t forget your dear little sister when you marry into the Sterling family.” In my last life, she was convinced I blocked her path to riches and killed me for it. This time, I won’t just step aside; I’ll give her a push. Let’s see just how deep of a grave she can dig. Bella didn’t think twice. She lifted her chin, smug as hell. “Glad you finally know your place. When I’m Mrs. Sterling, I’ll find you a driver or a secretary to marry. It’ll be enough to keep you fed for life.” “Now shut up and follow me. If anyone asks, you’re a waitress waiting for Mr. Sterling’s orders. If you ruin this for me, you know the consequences!” She glared at me, grabbed my wrist, and dragged me upstairs. The bodyguards were stationed at the door. Bella used the excuse of delivering water to get inside. Moments later, I heard the heavy thud of a body hitting the floor. I hid at the end of the corridor, watching. Not long after, Bella was dragged out, unconscious. Five bodyguards, wearing nasty grins, dragged her into the adjacent room. Seeing this, I let out a breath of relief, dusted off my hands, and turned to leave. But the next second, a sharp pain exploded at the back of my head. Everything went black. 2 When I woke up, my wrists and ankles were tied to the headboard with silk ribbons. Hovering over me was Julian Sterling’s face, dripping with sweat. My eyes widened. I tried to scream for help. He sealed my lips with his own. “Don’t think I don’t know there was something in that drink.” “Since you delivered it, you can solve the problem…” My screams were drowned out by heavy breathing. I struggled until I had no strength left. Whatever drug Bella used was potent. Julian didn’t stop until dawn. Fighting through the aches in my entire body, I waited until he fell asleep to untie the ribbons and change back into my clothes. Julian Sterling was known for being ruthless. I wasn’t stupid like Bella. I wasn’t going to stick around for his morning wrath. I wiped down any traces of myself in the room and fled. Before I left the floor, I glanced at the room Bella had been dragged into. The door was cracked open. Five sets of men’s clothes were scattered on the floor. She was lying on the bed, passed out cold. I stayed silent and slipped away. 3 As soon as I got home, my parents rushed me. When they didn’t see Bella, their faces dropped in unison. “Chloe, where’s your sister? Why did you come back alone?” Remembering how they blamed me for “ruining” Bella’s chance in my past life—how they didn’t even collect my body—my expression turned cold. “Maybe she used too much of the drug. Mr. Sterling might still be… busy.” My mom’s angry face instantly bloomed into a smile. “I knew Bella was capable! Unlike some people—useless waste of space. Raised you for twenty years and you’re still a losing investment!” My dad didn’t even look at me. He rushed Mom to the kitchen. “Go make the herbal soup! We need to make sure she conceives a son!” I couldn’t be bothered to argue. I sat on the couch to rest. Just as the soup started boiling, Bella walked in. She was limping. Her neck was covered in purple bruises. She clearly had no idea who she had actually spent the night with. The moment she saw me, she started listing my crimes to our parents. She screamed that I didn’t keep watch and didn’t help her with the aftermath. Mom snapped immediately. She slapped me across the face, screaming: “I knew I couldn’t count on you! Useless trash! Why did I raise such a burden?” “Your sister finally found an opportunity, and you didn’t help? You just ran away? Money falls from the sky and you don’t even know how to pick it up. You’re destined to be a wage slave for life!” I held my stinging cheek and laughed at her shamelessness. “I work for my money. I have dignity. I can’t bring myself to sell my body like that.” Dad flew into a rage. He grabbed a heavy glass ashtray from the coffee table and hurled it at my head. Blood instantly soaked my shirt. He ignored it, continuing his tirade: “Work, work, all you know is work! If we relied on your salary, your mother and I would starve before our ashes even cooled!” “You’re useless, and you dare insult your sister? Look at yourself! You’re worth nothing!” “If I knew it would be like this, I should have just sold you off years ago! It would’ve been less hassle!” “Marrying you off to some poor guy for a few grand in dowry? Do you think I’m running a charity?” I pressed a tissue to the gash on my forehead, but the blood wouldn’t stop. Disappointment in this family washed over me. I couldn’t help but yell back: “I am your daughter! Not a piece of meat in a butcher shop! If you want a daughter who sells herself, why didn’t you just open a brothel?” “Every cent I earn is clean. What is wrong with feeding myself with my own skills?” “If you hate me this much, why did you even give birth to me?” A flicker of panic crossed their eyes. Before they could explode again, Bella started gloating: “Don’t listen to her. When I have this baby and marry into the Sterling family, she’ll be on her knees begging me.” Hearing this, Mom and Dad stopped cursing me and swarmed her, asking about the night. Bella put on a shy act. “You have no idea. Julian isn’t as cold as the rumors say. He was wild all night… I’m still sore.” “When I woke up, he was gone. He just left a bank card in the room.” “We did it so many times. I’m definitely pregnant. The position of Mrs. Sterling is practically mine!” My parents laughed hysterically, seemingly already visualizing themselves as billionaire in-laws. They had no clue about the Sterling family’s background. They didn’t know what the name “Sterling” actually meant in this city. Scheming against Julian Sterling? They wouldn’t even know how they died. I needed to cut ties with them immediately. Right now, they were worshipping Bella, praising her for being “ambitious.” They brought out tonics and herbal soups, wishing Bella could pop out a baby right this second. I took the chance to call out their greedy, gold-digging faces. Predictably, it triggered them. Dad kicked me off the sofa, tore my page out of the family registry (Hukou), and threw it at me. “Get out! Get out now! I don’t have such a useless daughter!” Mom looked at me with pure disgust. Bella rubbed her legs, smirking. “I was going to find you a driver or secretary to marry so you could live comfortably. Since you love earning your own money so much, get out. Don’t come crying back to me when you get fired!” Goal achieved. I smiled, picking up my registration papers from the floor. “One day, you’ll realize the Sterling family isn’t as simple as they look.” “You schemed against Julian Sterling. We’ll see who ends up kneeling and begging.” 4 I stayed at a cheap hotel that night. I bought some antiseptic and bandages for my forehead. The next day at work, the office was buzzing with gossip. “Did you hear? Someone drugged Julian Sterling last night! Slept with him and ran. He’s tearing the city apart looking for the culprit!” “Is that person insane? Messing with Julian? The last person who tried to drug him is literally fertilizer now.” “Doesn’t he have an engagement with the Lu family? Even though the Lu heiress went missing years ago, the contract is still active.” Suddenly, Liam Lu appeared behind us. His voice was ice cold. “Are you all bored? Is your work done? Gossiping about Mr. Sterling… do you want to disappear?” The colleagues scattered like rats. Liam looked me up and down, a faint smile playing in his eyes. He grew up with Julian; their families were close allies. Given his reputation in the business world, I knew Julian wasn’t someone to be trifled with. Bella was doomed. Thinking about my colleagues’ words, I typed up a resignation letter immediately. If I can’t fight them, I can hide. My boss didn’t ask why. He approved it instantly. Terrified of being found by Julian, I rented a tiny apartment and didn’t leave for a week. Bella did the opposite. She loitered around the Sterling Group headquarters every day. She was desperate for Julian to recognize her as the woman from that night. Unfortunately, Julian’s bodyguards walked past her countless times without a glance. Bella got desperate. She registered a social media account under her real name and posted constantly about the gala. After ten posts with no response from Julian, she took a photo of the bank card he allegedly left and posted a “Lost and Found” notice. This time, she got a bite. Julian publicly replied to one of the comments: “The card is mine. Please provide your contact information. I will retrieve it personally. Much appreciated.” His reply broke the internet. Screenshots hit the trending page instantly. The cold CEO’s rare gentleness was interpreted as a flirtatious exchange. Everyone guessed that my sister, the “kind soul” who found the card, was about to become Cinderella. Netizens doxxed Bella’s address immediately. They linked her to the drugging incident rumors. Before Julian even showed up, people trying to curry favor were lining up at my parents’ door. Talent scouts offered Bella contracts, claiming she had “star quality.” Businessmen invited her to fancy dinners, begging her to put in a good word with Mr. Sterling. Rumors flew. People were placing bets that Julian would cancel his engagement with the Lu family. In one day, Bella gained millions of followers. She became an influencer. Riding the wave, she put on a fake act, telling people not to spread rumors. Her “innocent and reserved” image won over a ton of fans. Meanwhile, the scandal spread everywhere. I couldn’t sit still. I went out and officially transferred my household registration away from my parents. When I went back to pack my things, my parents were practically floating. They were glued to their phones, reading comments and laughing. It was like they were already envisioning the wedding. I stayed silent and went to my room. Mom scoffed. “Doesn’t know how to enjoy life. Born to be a servant. Useless.” Dad sighed, disappointed. “If you had half your sister’s ambition, we’d be living next door to the Sterlings by now!” Bella walked out of her room, a $200 face mask plastered on her skin. She gloated: “You don’t know, do you? Julian messaged me. He wants to meet.” “He definitely figured out I was the one who ‘helped’ him that night. He’s not mad. He probably liked it!” “I just tested. Two lines. Pregnant.” “If you suck up to me now, it’s not too late.” “You’re my sister, after all. Once I’m Mrs. Sterling, getting you a job as a maid won’t be hard.” Hearing “two lines,” my heart skipped a beat. I subconsciously touched my own flat stomach. “You started the rumors online, didn’t you? Do you know how powerful the Sterling legal team is? You aren’t helping Mom and Dad; you’re dragging the whole family into an abyss.” As if on cue, Mom saw a notification. The Sterling Group had issued an official statement. It said that anyone continuing to spread rumors would face legal action. The comment section, which had been on fire, was instantly locked. All of Bella’s posts were taken down. Her account was banned. She panicked. But sticking to her “reserved” act, she opened her chat with Julian but didn’t dare message him. While my parents crowded around her in panic, Julian finally messaged. “I’m sending someone to pick you up. Be downstairs in five minutes.” Bella’s frown instantly turned into a smirk. She waved the phone in my face. “See? The Sterling Group is a big company; they have to be low-key publicly. My husband couldn’t wait to explain it to me in person!” “With your cowardly attitude, you aren’t even fit to carry my shoes! Move!” She shoved me aside and went to change. My parents chimed in. “You have none of your sister’s skills, yet you try to bring her down. What is the point of you?” “Get out! Stop being an eyesore!” Mom was tearing up with joy. “This risky move paid off! We might be moving into a mansion tonight!” Dad laughed, holding Bella’s positive pregnancy test like a trophy. “I never dared to dream… The Sterling family! We’re upper class now!” “Honey, look at this suit. Is it good for the wedding? I don’t want to embarrass our daughter!” “What should we get for the grandkid? We can’t let the in-laws look down on us!” Watching their excitement, I silently packed my bags. When I left, I trailed behind them from a distance. Downstairs, they were surrounded by neighbors. Envious chatter filled the air. “You are so blessed to have such a daughter! I saw the news online. If my daughter married into the Sterling family, I’d wake up laughing!” “Look at you two, glowing! You look ten years younger!” “I should have told my daughter to try. I thought Mr. Sterling was untouchable, but he’s just a man after all. Can’t resist temptation.” I felt a wave of nausea and almost retched. My parents were grinning ear to ear, promising to invite everyone to the wedding. In the middle of the laughter, police sirens wailed. Several cruisers pulled up. An officer stepped forward, flashing his badge. “Which one of you is Jiang Wan? She is suspected of spreading rumors and using controlled substances. Please come with us.”

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On the day my boyfriend of seven years proposed to me. Just as I was about to say yes, rows of floating text—livestream comments—suddenly appeared in front of my eyes. [LMAO, the side character is actually crying. Does she really think the Second Male Lead is going to marry her?] [Doesn’t she know he’s only proposing because he’s drunk and mistook her for the Heroine?] I pretended not to see them, nodding my agreement through tears. Afterward, some busybody told me the “truth.” Everyone was certain I would throw a fit. But not only did I not make a scene, I magnanimously forgave Liam. They didn’t know I was a “Strategy Gamer.” As long as the Second Male Lead proposed to me, my mission was complete. Three days later, the System confirmed with me: [Mission Complete. Initiate world exit?] I lay in the bathtub, smiling with relief: [Yes.] 1 Looking at the barrage of comments floating in the air, I froze for a moment. Subconsciously, I contacted the System. After running a diagnostic, it told me: [There’s a slight glitch. I’ve already submitted a ticket.] I nodded. In front of me, Liam stared blankly, asking again: “Evelyn, will you marry me? “Please, marry me, okay?” He was obviously a little drunk. Everyone’s eyes were on me. Like they were watching a play. It was clear they all knew Liam had mistaken me for someone else. I still nodded. Liam looked at me affectionately and slid the ring onto my finger. But the next second, someone in the crowd said: “Liam, you got the wrong girl. That’s Evelyn.” Liam froze. His gaze landed on my face. Instantly, his expression stiffened. “Why is it you?” A flash of regret passed through his eyes. A few busybodies next to me explained: “Sorry, Evelyn, Liam made a mistake. “He thought you were Sophia.” Everyone was waiting for my reaction. Expecting me to break down crying the next second, or start a huge fight with Liam. After all, who could tolerate their boyfriend of seven years doing something like this? Liam even chimed in: “I drank too much.” I twitched the corner of my mouth. Only after hearing the System announce the mission’s success did I speak: “It’s okay.” I simply asked the System: [Can I leave now?] It paused: **[Of course. [In seven days, you can return to your own world. [Are you sure you want to leave everything here behind and choose to exit this world?]** I gave an affirmative hum. [Yes.] [Okay. Due to the glitch troubleshooting, the departure time will be in seven days.] I nodded. It just so happened I still had some things to take care of in this world. 2 While the atmosphere was tense, Sophia’s voice emerged. “Why is it so quiet? “Is Evelyn here? Did the proposal work?” Her gaze landed on Liam and me. “I just mistook her for someone else.” When Sophia walked out, Liam instinctively explained. As if he was worried I would take this proposal seriously. I didn’t speak. Seeing the awkward atmosphere, others started to smooth things over. “Come on, come on, let’s keep the party going.” Only I stood rooted to the spot. Sophia looked at me with an apologetic smile: “Evelyn, I’m so sorry. He was holding a diamond ring and saying he wanted to propose. “I thought he was looking for you, so I called you. “You’re not mad, are you?” Yeah, I rushed over here because I got a call from Sophia. … Liam sat to the side, drinking the hangover remedy brought by a waiter. Hearing this sentence. He just said faintly: “It’s fine.” Consider it him bailing Sophia out. 3 Ever since Sophia returned from abroad seven days ago, Liam had barely come home. At first, he just lied about working overtime. Even when he was home, one call from Sophia and he would immediately drop me and leave. Later, I saw his messages with Sophia and learned everything. That day I got angry and made a scene. Liam just coldly left me with one sentence: “You should know your place.” Then he slammed the door and left amidst my confusion. He didn’t come back after that. Until this morning. Sophia updated her Instagram: [People who are loved don’t have to shell their own walnuts.] The picture showed the background of Liam’s office, and she was holding a jar of shelled walnut kernels. It was the jar I had peeled for Liam a while ago, worried that working too much overtime was bad for his health. I stared blankly for a long time. Looking at my scarred hands. I finally saw this relationship clearly. The Heroine will always be the Heroine. Even though I stayed by Liam’s side for seven years, it couldn’t compare to the seven days she had been back. … I came to this world after a car accident. The System told me my mission was to redeem the Second Male Lead. But when I approached Liam, he was cold and detested me. Back then, he wore a faded T-shirt, his bangs slightly covering his eyebrows. Since he wasn’t willing, I gave up. Even though the System told me if I gave up, I wouldn’t be able to return to my own world, it didn’t matter. I was an orphan anyway; it was the same wherever I was. But later, I became Liam’s junior in college. When he was drugged, I was the one who took him to the hospital. That day, Liam actively pursued me. I agreed immediately. Two people who weren’t living great lives coming together seemed to give life a taste of happiness. When I worked part-time during holidays, Liam got off work earlier than me and stood at the door to pick me up. The year we graduated college, he started a business, and I accompanied him. Just like that, I followed him for seven years. Even though I knew he was the devoted Second Male Lead, I firmly believed everyone had a past. The Heroine had also gotten her happy ending with the Male Lead. 4 And right now, Sophia sat next to Liam, speaking in a delicate voice: “Evelyn, that jar of walnuts in Liam’s office was pretty good. Where did you buy it?” Seeing Sophia’s interest, Liam’s gaze also fell on me. He was mostly sober now and hadn’t explained what just happened to me. He seemed to be waiting for my answer. After a long time, I calmed the emotions in my heart and looked at Liam. “The shop on 2nd Street in Southtown. “Since there’s nothing else, I’ll head out first.” With that, I prepared to turn and leave. Sophia’s friend called out to stop me. “Evelyn, that ring on your hand was handmade by Mr. Xie. Please take it off. “I mean, Mr. Xie only proposed and gave it to you because he mistook you for Sophia. Obviously, the owner isn’t you.” My fingernails dug deep into my palm. Enduring the pain in my heart, I smiled. “Of course.” With that, under Liam’s gaze, I took off the ring without hesitation. I casually tossed it into the decorative fountain behind me. I strode away without looking back. The floating comments in front of my eyes were still jumping: [The side character is mad, right?] [Honestly, anyone would be mad. She’s been with the Second Male Lead for seven years. Seven years, a heart that won’t warm up isn’t worth warming up anymore.] [Finally a normal person. I also want to say, is the author’s moral compass really okay? Since the Second Male Lead hadn’t cleared his heart, why pursue the side character?] 5 After getting home, someone anonymously sent me a video. Opening it, I heard the voices of Liam and his best friend. “Bro, Sophia went to the bathroom, no one else is here. Talk to me. Evelyn said yes, why didn’t you just roll with it? Why explain immediately and embarrass her? “She’s waited for you for seven years. In a few more years she’ll be thirty. She’s not getting any younger. “Tell me the truth, when do you plan to marry Evelyn?” In the video, Liam swirled his wine glass and thought for a moment: “Never.” Everyone went silent. After a long time, he continued: “If I hadn’t been drunk and mistaken her for Sophia this time, there is no way I would have proposed to her.” … After the voice stopped. I subconsciously looked up and saw myself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, face covered in tear streaks. Tears can fall without you realizing it. These words were cruel to the extreme, every word punishing the heart. Like mocking how cheap my seven years of emotional investment were. Even if I didn’t want to admit it, from twenty to twenty-seven, in the best years of my youth, how could I not have loved him? And I also discovered that when I cry, I look somewhat similar to Sophia. I finally understood Liam’s words: “You should know your place.” So that’s what it meant. He treated me as the Heroine’s substitute.

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1 The night the Stone family finally acknowledged me as their own, a thunderstorm was raging. I was, after all, the nation’s lead forensic pathologist. I stepped into the grand foyer, my silver examination case in hand. The heavy, cloying stench of death that clung to my clothes instantly suffocated the delicate, expensive fragrance that filled the mansion. My adopted sister, Isabelle, pressed a hand to her nose, a flash of disgust in her eyes. She quickly masked it with a look of feigned concern, reaching for my case. “Ava, you must be exhausted coming home so late. That case looks heavy, let me help you.” With a practiced clumsiness, she let the case slip from her grasp. It crashed onto the marble floor with a sickening clang. CLANG! The latch sprang open. A slick, rubbery length of intestine, bleached pale by formalin, slithered out and came to rest on her delicate designer heel. The air went dead silent. I impassively pulled on a pair of latex gloves. 【Oops. Such clumsy hands. That was a fresh sample from a bloater, you know. I was hoping to reconstruct the full set.】 【But since you’re so curious, little sister, I don’t mind giving you a live demonstration of how to stuff this back where it belongs.】 【Or… maybe I could borrow your stomach for a little practice? Your heart’s already black, so it wouldn’t hurt to crack you open and take a look, would it?】 “Urgh—!” My older brother, Liam, a surgeon, caught a clear view of the coiled mass. His face turned a pasty white as he clutched his stomach and bolted for the nearest bathroom. Arthur Stone, my stern and imposing father, went wide-eyed. The string of prayer beads in his hand snapped, scattering across the floor as he crumpled in a dead faint. The entire family, who had gathered to put me in my place, now lay in a neat, unconscious row on the floor. 2 My mother, Eleanor, came to with a gasp after a maid pinched the skin above her lip. The moment she saw me, she began to tremble uncontrollably. Liam, my brother, had to brace himself against the wall to keep from collapsing again. Isabelle, ever the graceful actress, glided toward me, reaching out to take my hand. I sidestepped her touch. She retracted her hand awkwardly, her face still a perfect mask of gentle vulnerability. “I’ve already prepared a room for you, Ava. Please, come see if you like it.” I followed her down the hall. The room she showed me was a confection of pink frills and girlish decor, right next to her own. The air was thick with a sickly-sweet perfume. I wrinkled my nose. “I won’t be staying here. This style isn’t for me.” Liam looked ready to scold me for being ungrateful, but then he heard my thoughts. 【What a mess. Blood spatter would be a nightmare to clean off these pink walls.】 【I need something more secluded. The utility closet downstairs looked promising. No windows, far from their rooms. Perfect for late-night dissections without being disturbed.】 The blood drained from my brother’s face, leaving it a ghastly white. My father, Arthur, spoke with a noticeable tremor. “Then… you can take the utility closet for now. I’ll have the staff clear it out for you…” I cut him off. “Don’t bother. I’ll handle it myself. Just have a shower stall installed for me.” 【And make sure the drainage is industrial-grade. It’ll make disposing of tissue fragments much easier. Wouldn’t want to clog the plumbing.】 I saw my father’s vision swim. He swayed on his feet but managed a weak, terrified nod. Isabelle, oblivious to the undercurrent of horror, had a flicker of triumph in her eyes. She assumed I had angered our father and was being punished with the junk-filled closet. I ignored them all. I walked to the closet at the end of the ground-floor hall and pushed open the door. A wave of musty air hit me. I knocked on the thick concrete walls, satisfied. 【Good soundproofing, too. The sound of a bone saw at night probably won’t even wake them.】 Outside the door, my mother, who had just been helped to her feet by Liam, heard that last thought. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed again in a neat pile. Dinner was as silent as a morgue. The long dining table was laden with an exquisite spread, but no one dared touch their food. The family sat stiffly, their posture rigid with fear. A news report was playing on the television in the corner. “…police today discovered a dismembered male body in the outskirts of the city. The brutality of the crime is shocking, and authorities are pursuing all leads…” The body on screen was heavily censored, but the scattered, blocky shapes were still disturbing. Isabelle covered her eyes with a delicate hand, leaning weakly against my mother. “How awful. The world is full of such cruel people.” I stared at the screen, my brow furrowed. 【Huh? Isn’t that the case I worked on a few weeks ago? They’re only releasing the news now?】 【The department’s getting slow. Their press releases are always late.】 【That guy had a rough end, though. Dismembered piece by piece while still alive. They even injected him with a neurostimulant to keep him fully conscious, forced to watch himself being taken apart.】 Liam, being a doctor, immediately visualized the scene I described. A wave of nausea washed over him. He couldn’t hold it back; his face went pale and he scrambled from the table, rushing to the bathroom to be sick. The commotion startled my mother, whose head lolled to one side as she fainted for what felt like the tenth time. Chaos erupted. Only Isabelle remained, looking baffled. She couldn’t understand why her family had suddenly become so squeamish. My father, Arthur, tried to maintain his composure. His hand trembled as he reached for a glass of water. Just then, a loud, piercing siren blared through the silent dining room. WEE-WOO-WEE-WOO! The entire family, including Liam who had just staggered back from the bathroom, jumped out of their skins. Unfazed, I pulled my phone from my pocket. “It’s for me,” I explained flatly. A tidal wave of horror washed over my father’s face. He thought my audacity knew no bounds—that I was using a police siren as a ringtone while committing such atrocities. A blatant mockery of the law! I was oblivious to his internal drama as I answered the call. “What’s up?” “Yeah, another one?” I listened, a slight frown forming. “Blunt force trauma to the skull this time? Okay, I’m on my way. Keep the scene secure.” I hung up, wiped my mouth with a napkin, and stood to leave. “Stop!” My father slammed his hand on the table, jolting to his feet. “Ava Stone! Where do you think you’re going at this hour?” His veins bulged on his forehead. “I’ll give you money! Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you! Just… just stop doing this!” 【Money?】 【Does he think this is about money? The department called. If I don’t take the case, someone else will get the credit.】 Hearing this, the anger on my father’s face froze, replaced by a deeper, more profound despair. He exchanged a look with Liam. All color had drained from their faces. “She… she has a team…” Liam muttered, horrified. My father collapsed back into his chair, utterly defeated. I, meanwhile, just thought they were being bizarre as I turned and walked out the door. This case was a tricky one. Two victims. One had fallen from a height, crashed through a glass ceiling, and then fallen again. The other was a bloater, pulled from a lake after being submerged for weeks, a grotesque caricature of a human being. By the time I finished processing both scenes, it was past midnight. The storm had returned, and fat raindrops hammered against my car’s windshield. I drove back to the Stone estate, my body heavy with exhaustion. The lights in the living room were still blazing. As I pushed the door open, the sterile scent of formalin and the faint, underlying odor of decay overwhelmed the house’s expensive potpourri once more. The Stones were sitting on the sofa, a grim welcoming committee. Isabelle shot to her feet, her nose wrinkled in theatrical disgust. A moment later, it was replaced by a mask of worry as she hurried towards me. “Ava, you’re back so late! What is that smell on you?” Before I could answer, she lunged for the evidence case in my hand. “Let me get that for you, you look exhausted.” She was fast, and she caught me off guard, snatching the case. Then, with a “stumble” that was anything but accidental, she cried out. “Ah!” CRASH! The metal case hit the polished marble floor. The latch popped. Several specimen jars containing organs bleached white by formalin rolled out. A length of intestine, still bearing traces of its former contents, landed with a wet slap on the plush rug. “Ava, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—” Her words died in her throat the moment she saw what was on the floor. Her pretty face went sheet-white. A wave of sickness overcame her, and she doubled over, vomiting right there. 【You wanted to play games. You just couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.】 【There you go. I didn’t want to expose my work, but you forced my hand.】 【Since you love it so much, take a good long look.】 【Now… what am I going to do with all of you?】 I pulled on a fresh pair of latex gloves and calmly bent down, picking up the slick, wet organ from the floor. Then, I rose and walked over to where Isabelle was heaving, holding the intestine right in front of her face. “You wanted a closer look, didn’t you?” She looked up in terror, her eyes meeting mine before flicking down to the object inches from her nose. Her eyes rolled back, and she fainted. 【So fragile. You shouldn’t start fights you can’t finish. You brought this on yourself.】 I stood, the intestine still in my hand, and slowly turned. BOOM! A bolt of lightning tore across the sky, and the grand chandelier above us flickered violently. In the strobing light, my parents and brother saw a terrifying tableau: me, standing over Isabelle’s unconscious body, holding a piece of a human corpse. The effect was cinematic. The three of them didn’t even have time to scream. Their eyes glazed over in unison, and they fainted, joining Isabelle on the floor. The living room was littered with the bodies of my family. I shook my head. “Well,” I said to the empty room, “a family should always stick together.” With a sigh, I went to work. First, I meticulously cleaned the floor and packed my “treasures” back into their case. Then, one by one, I dragged my family members back to their respective rooms and arranged them neatly on their beds. Only after all that was done did I retreat to my utility closet for a well-deserved sleep. Things were quiet for a few days after that. With no new cases, I was happy to stay in my new “lab,” organizing my tools and files. My family, on the other hand, was walking on eggshells. They scurried away like mice whenever they saw me. Liam even took a leave of absence from the hospital, locking himself in his room all day. This strange truce lasted until my birthday. Seeing that I had remained “well-behaved” for several days and hadn’t actually dissected any of them, Arthur began to relax. He decided to throw a lavish birthday party to officially introduce me, the true heiress, to his business partners and high-society friends. He tasked Isabelle with helping me get a dress. But Isabelle, traumatized and resentful after that night, saw an opportunity. She wanted to humiliate me. She never told me about the party or the dress. On the day of the banquet, I came home straight from the lab. Before I could even change out of my scrubs, a maid was rushing me toward the ballroom. My clothes carried the faint, unmistakable odor of the morgue—a smell I was so used to, I no longer noticed it. The moment I pushed open the ballroom doors, the chatter died. Every head turned. All eyes were on me. A few of the society wives standing near the entrance instinctively took a step back, fanning their noses dramatically. The whispers started immediately. “Is that the long-lost Stone daughter? Why is she dressed like that? She looks like she crawled out of a gutter.” “It’s not just how she looks, can you smell that? It’s some kind of chemical… utterly foul.” Isabelle rushed to my side, her face a mask of false sympathy. “Ava, why are you wearing your work clothes? Father told you to dress up!” she hissed, feigning panic. “Oh my goodness, did I forget to show you where the dressing room is? I have so many new gowns, you should have just asked me!” Just then, a booming, mocking voice cut through the murmurs. It was my father’s biggest business rival, the head of Russo Corp. He sauntered over, a champagne flute in his hand and a sneer on his face. “Well, well, Arthur,” he bellowed, pointing at me. “Did you dig this one out of a cemetery? She gives me the creeps!” My father’s face went rigid with fury. I lifted my head and stared coldly at the obnoxious Mr. Russo. 【This man… isn’t he Vincent Russo?】 【My contact at the Bureau told me to keep an eye on him. I wasn’t even looking for him, and he just serves himself up on a platter.】 【He won’t be running his mouth for much longer. Arrogant, even with one foot in the grave. I don’t mind working a little overtime to give him the final push.】 The moment that thought crossed my mind, it happened. “Aaargh—!” Mr. Russo clutched his head and let out a blood-curdling scream. His eyes bulged, and he fell backward like a felled tree. THUD! His heavy body hit the floor, and blood began to trickle from his nose and mouth. The entire ballroom was plunged into a dead, horrified silence. Everyone stared at me as if I were a witch who had just cast a deadly curse. My father pointed a trembling finger at me, his lips quivering, unable to form words. “…Was that… did you…?” I looked down at the twitching form of Mr. Russo and allowed a small, cold smile to touch my lips. 【Looks like I’ve got a new case.】 【All that arrogance, and he still ended up on my table. Metaphorically, for now.】

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It was harvest season. I called my ex, and he hung up immediately. Then he texted me instantly. [Not getting back together. Don’t look for me.] [Don’t think I don’t know. You just want me to bring my bodyguards to pick corn for you again.] I blinked, sitting on the ridge of the field, reading the message three times. Finally, I got up and continued picking corn. I couldn’t figure it out. Mark had been clueless for three years. How did he suddenly discover the truth? 1 Staring at the messages, I zoned out for a long time. Mark didn’t text again, and I didn’t reply. Uncle Joe leaned over. “Hey, Mia. Is your gangster boyfriend not coming to pick corn this year?” I stood up, dusting the dry grass off my butt. “Uncle Joe, they’re bodyguards. It’s a civilized society, what gangster?” “When you have time, ask your son to buy you a smartphone. Watch some news, old man.” I went back to picking corn. Behind me, Uncle Joe spat on the ground. “Pfft. Just got dumped by a rich guy. What’s she pretending for?” A sharp corn leaf sliced my hand. I hissed in pain. Grandma heard and hurried over. “Let me see. I told you to wear gloves, but you wouldn’t listen.” I sucked the dirt off my palm and spat it out. “Go back inside, Grandma. Grandpa will start fussing if no one’s watching him.” Before Grandma could speak, the sound of a tractor rumbled in the distance. I froze, staring. No wonder Uncle Joe called Mark a gangster. He was sitting at the front of the tractor, followed by a dozen bodyguards in black suits. Some people’s Prince Charmings ride white horses; mine rides a tractor. Uncle Bill stopped the tractor at the edge of the field. Mark and I stared at each other from a distance. After a long silence, he frowned and walked over to me. “Getting back together is off the table. I was just passing by.” “Bored at home. Taking a walk.” “Oh,” I said. A rich city boy taking a dozen bodyguards for a walk in a cornfield thousands of miles from home. Unique. He frowned at my hand. “Mia, when will your family stop planting this damn corn?” I turned back to the corn, ignoring him. Mark didn’t care. His bodyguards expertly took off their black suit jackets, tossed them on the corn pile, and got to work. It was early October, but the midday sun was still scorching. Many bodyguards took off their white dress shirts too. As I worked, my eyes wandered. Damn, those pecs are huge. Those abs look hard. Suddenly, a dark face appeared between two corn stalks, scaring the life out of me. Mark was wearing white gloves, his face black as thunder. “Put them back on!” He grumbled, watching the bodyguards put their shirts back on, then glared at me, grinding his teeth. “Indecent! Public nuisance! Shameless!” A bodyguard muttered, “What public nuisance? We’re in the middle of nowhere.” Before I could speak, Mark exploded. “Fine, rural nuisance then! So many girls and wives working in the fields, who are you showing off for?” “If you hook someone’s wife and she runs off with you, can you afford the responsibility?” My head was pounding from his noise. I moved to another row. He seemed determined to annoy me, following me to the opposite ridge. I sighed, looking at the young master who had picked exactly three ears of corn in half an hour. “I’ll pay your bodyguards’ wages. You go rest, it’s hot.” Mark, born pale, was now flushed red from the sun. “Who wants your money? Even if you feel bad for me, I won’t get back with you that easily.” He stubbornly kept picking. I had nothing to say. 2 Many hands make light work. Soon, a small portion of the field was cleared. Checking the sun, I invited them home for lunch. I took out my phone and realized Grandma hadn’t replied to my text. But a dozen people were already following me to the house. The gate wasn’t open yet, but the neighbor’s gate opened. “Mia, you’re back?” I paused, looking at the man waving at me. “Brother Sam, you’re back too?” He nodded. “Back to pick corn.” Mark whispered bitchily in my ear. “Brother Sam… sounds like a cheesy romance novel character. Sleazy.” Grandma heard the noise and came out. “Mia’s back? Your grandpa soiled his clothes again, I had to rush back…” She froze, looking at the crowd. Grandma pulled me aside. “Why didn’t you tell me there were so many people?” “It’s fine. I’ll take them to town for noodles.” I turned to tell Mark there was no food at home, but he had already marched inside. Grandpa was sitting shirtless in the yard, sunbathing. Mark grinned, showing all his teeth. “Grandpa! Long time no see!” Grandpa slowly turned his head and smiled at him. “Second Aunt is here? Did your dad wet the bed again?” Mark’s smile froze. My forehead was covered in black lines. I rushed to drag him away. “Let’s go. Lunch.” Mark followed me. Town was far, so I borrowed Uncle Bill’s tractor. Uncle Bill used to haul pigs in it. It was clean now, but Mark’s dog nose could still smell it. “I’m not sitting in that.” I nodded. “Then don’t eat.” Mark glared at me angrily. “Mia, is this the attitude of someone begging to get back together?” “You use me every year and then show your true colors. The corn isn’t even halfway done and you’re giving me attitude? You don’t want to get back together?” He climbed onto the tractor as he spoke, sitting next to me. “Shotgun!” He looked smug as his bodyguards climbed on. I started the engine, chugging forward. What shotgun? The front of the tractor didn’t even have seatbelts; it was a bench seat. As many butts as could fit, that’s how many shotguns there were. The noodle shop in town was instantly packed by us. The owner looked terrified, face pale. Probably thought we were there to smash the place. Mark picked out the green onions with disgust and asked me, “When are you going back to the city?” I stirred my noodles. “Not going back for now.” Mark froze, putting down his chopsticks. “What do you mean?” I slurped a noodle. “What else? City life is tough, I’m coming back to the village.” “I didn’t call you to get back together. I wanted to ask if I could borrow your bodyguards to pick corn. You know how it is.” I sighed. “Here, we bury our dead in our own fields. The cornfield you stepped on today? My parents and ancestors are under there.” A bodyguard nearby sneezed and started eating faster. Mark stared at me. “Grandpa and Grandma can’t let go of the land, and I can’t let go of them. Someone has to do the work.” “I tried hiring locals, but they ignored me. Said I went crazy working in the city, hiring people for such a small plot.” I pouted. “I’ll pay market rate. You don’t have to come every year. I’ll cover their travel and board.” Screech— The chair scraped loudly against the floor. Mark’s chest heaved, his cheeks puffing in and out. “Pick your own damn corn, idiot!” Watching Mark stomp away angrily, I didn’t bother chasing him. The bodyguards looked at each other, unsure whether to leave. I finished my noodles and walked out with the anxious bodyguards. Seeing their young master sitting on the tractor, the bodyguards collectively sighed in relief. Mark sat in his “shotgun” seat, turning his head away from me. 3 The tractor bumped along. Mark finally couldn’t take it. “Mia, you’re doing this on purpose, right? Aiming for every pothole?” I shook my head innocently. That’s just how country roads are. Mark barely ate breakfast, picked corn all morning, and skipped lunch because of his tantrum. His resentment was thick enough to summon ghosts. “I’m gonna be sick! I’m gonna throw up in your car, see how you return it!” He thinks this is his luxury sedan? Vomit is hard to clean? I’ll just hose it down when we get home. Good as new. Mark hadn’t eaten. Grandma and Grandpa were napping. I went to the kitchen to make him noodles. Mark was in the yard fighting the rooster. Every year he comes, my rooster attacks him. Watching the man-versus-chicken chaos, I cracked two eggs into the noodles. This was the third year of my relationship with Mark. Break up, make up, break up, make up. We met at a company party. He was my boss’s friend. My boss got drunk and asked me, the intern, to drive. My first move was backing the car into Mark’s bumper. Three years together. He treated me well, but never introduced me to his family or friends. Colleagues told me the class gap was too big. I couldn’t tell if Mark was serious. But every time I broke up with him, he agreed. And every time I asked to get back together, he came running back for a kiss. Like being together was fine, and being apart was fine too. This was the third month after our tenth breakup. The corn was ripe. I took leave from work. I didn’t expect Mark to follow. Twenty minutes ago, he posted on Instagram, tagged at a bar in the city. Ten minutes later, he was here with bodyguards picking corn. I’m not stupid. He must have been staying at the motel in town recently. Such a spoiled rich kid staying in that dump? I wonder how long he’s been there. I planned to ask him tonight. Some things need moonlight to be said clearly. I brought the noodles out. Mark was talking to someone with his back to me. Seeing me, the person peeked around Mark. My face dropped instantly. “Mia, your boyfriend is here and you don’t treat him well? You can bring him to our house to eat.” I shoved the bowl into Mark’s hands and glared at the man. “Uncle Joe, why aren’t you napping? What are you doing here?” “We don’t need you worrying about our family business.” Mark held the bowl and reached into his pocket. When will he fix this habit of throwing money at people when he’s happy? He pulled out a red envelope. I didn’t even know when he prepared it. He tried to stuff it into Uncle Joe’s hand. “Uncle Joe, right? Thanks for looking after Grandpa and Grandma when Mia and I weren’t around.” Uncle Joe’s eyes lit up seeing the thick envelope. He reached for it. “Mia, your boyfriend is sensible. Knows how to respect elders.” I gritted my teeth, snatched the envelope, glared at Mark, and shoved it back into his pocket. “He’s not my boyfriend. We broke up.” “Uncle Joe, you’re a grown man. Why are you asking for handouts from juniors?” Uncle Joe’s face twisted. He forced a stiff smile. 4 “You little…” I watched his retreating back. Turning around, I saw Mark had put the noodles on the table. “Not good?” I frowned at him. Mark looked unnaturally pale, eyes a bit red. “If I’m not your boyfriend, I’m not. Why speak so harshly?” “Mia, I’ll make you regret this!” I watched Mark stomp away, baffled. What now? Just because I told that old man he wasn’t my boyfriend? I didn’t get him. But seeing the bodyguards resting under the tree leave with him, I sighed. Leaving is good. I shouldn’t have called him. Maybe I was too tired. Corn picking made me delirious. The sun was too hot. I wasn’t thinking straight when I called. I went back inside. Grandma was still napping. Grandpa was muttering to himself on the stool. I took the bowl of noodles and ate slowly. Cooked is cooked. Can’t waste it. But I ate to the bottom and didn’t see the two eggs I put in. I chuckled. Mark, that psycho, ate the eggs and left the noodles. Grandpa stuffed a huge red envelope into my hand, dancing with joy. “Mia, red envelope.” I stared blankly at the envelope. Identical to the one Mark tried to give Uncle Joe. Only this one was bursting at the seams. My heart hurt. I wanted to ask him tonight if he was serious about us. But the male lead ran away. People busy with farm work don’t have time for romance. I napped for a bit, then headed to the field. But when I got there, I froze. The huge cornfield was cleared. Piles of corn were stacked, waiting for Uncle Bill’s truck. Even the stalks were bundled. Uncle Joe stood in his field, voice loud and pointed. “The little vixen knows how to hook men. Didn’t even feed him lunch, and he ran to the field and finished all the work.” I didn’t have the energy to argue. My heart was burning, and so were my eyes. I felt like the answer I wanted, the one Mark never gave, was right in front of me. I took out my phone to call Mark. Hearing the tone, my heart went cold again. Mark blocked me. He left one message on WeChat. [Mia, if you don’t want my love, taste my hate!] Me: …

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On the day my sister and I were born, a wandering fortune teller came to our door. She prophesied that one of us would soar to the top, marrying into unimaginable wealth. The other would fall from grace, becoming a shameless beggar. After graduation, my boyfriend, the heir to a multi-billion dollar empire, proposed to me. But on the eve of my wedding, I was in a horrific car accident. My parents told everyone I was in a vegetative state and had my sister take my place at the altar. The next day, my sister wore my wedding ring and sat in the bridal car. Meanwhile, my parents pulled the plug on my oxygen, watching me suffocate to death. They cremated my body and buried the urn in an unmarked grave in a potter’s field. Ten years after my death, my sister finally gave birth to a son, securing her position as the heir to the family fortune. The city’s elite came to celebrate. But at the baby’s first birthday party, the child began bleeding from every orifice, wailing in agony. My sister fell ill, wasting away to nothing. My “husband” personally flew in a Feng Shui master from Hong Kong. He held my sister, comforting her: “Don’t be scared, babe. Once I destroy that bitch’s spirit, I’ll use her soul to make a chamber pot for our son.” My parents invited the clan elders to curse my name. “Restless even in death! Haunting our precious daughter and grandson… you deserve to have your soul shattered!” The master set up his altar on the unmarked grave where my urn was buried. But suddenly, his face went pale. “Her name isn’t in the Book of Life and Death. Who exactly died ten years ago?” 1 As soon as the master spoke, my parents and sister turned white as sheets. They stammered, “Of course… of course it was Ella. Our family hasn’t had any bad luck except for her.” My parents were being evasive, but the guests watching the spectacle exploded with whispers. “Who else could it be? Mr. Jiang has been charitable his whole life, it’s just his bad luck to have such a cursed daughter! How could the master not find her name?” “Master! Are you scared?” “No,” the master frowned, his fingers moving rapidly in calculation. When he looked up again, his expression was graver than ever. “I have consulted the spirits, and the spirits do not lie. The deceased is absolutely not the elder sister, Ella!” He suddenly leaned into my sister’s face. “Mrs. Chen, do you feel like your insides are being pierced by ice picks? Do you feel a chill in your bones? This is a sign of a vengeful spirit attachment. If we don’t resolve this soon…” “I’m afraid you and this little young master will be buried with her overwhelming resentment!” Everyone took a step back in fear. My sister clutched her chest and let out a scream that didn’t sound human. “Ah—it must be Emma! She’s back! She wants revenge, she wants to kill me…” My parents’ faces darkened. They rushed forward to cover her mouth. “What nonsense are you talking about?” “Everyone in the city knows your sister died in an accident. It has nothing to do with you. You’re just suffering from postpartum depression…” The master smirked, a meaningful glint in his eye. He raised his peach wood sword and began chanting. My father finally lost his patience, pointing at the master’s nose. “Do you know what you’re doing or not?” My ex-boyfriend, Julian Chen, handed over a blank check. “If you can scatter that evil spirit’s soul, the Chen family will reward you handsomely.” The master stopped moving and said quietly: “Karma is inescapable. Mr. Chen, if you want her name written in the Book of Death, condemning her to eternal suffering, you must tell me everything the deceased experienced in life.” He paused. “And, the deceased’s real name.” My parents looked at my sister, who was screaming in pain while clutching her sick child. Heartbroken, they nodded and began their story. Back then, my car was found at the bottom of a cliff on a winding mountain road. Fallen with it was a truck driven by a notorious local thug. My car was smashed to pieces, and I was barely breathing. Police investigations later revealed witnesses who saw me acting intimate with the thug before the accident. Some even claimed I got out of his truck with disheveled clothes. The story was that we were fooling around too intensely, causing both vehicles to plummet off the cliff. At this point, my father sighed heavily. “A family tragedy.” “We never expected Ella to fulfill the fortune teller’s prophecy. Shameless, mixing with thugs, ruining herself until she lost her life.” The master murmured, seemingly communicating with something invisible. The next moment, his voice became ethereal and commanding, as if channeling a god. “Incorrect. There was more than one death.” “Mr. Jiang, if you truly want to save your daughter and grandson, you must tell the whole truth.” My father clenched his fists, his old face flushing red. “Indeed, there was more than one. It was too shameful, so our family kept it a secret.” “But to save my daughter, I have to say it today.” “We privately hired a forensic doctor back then. In Ella’s womb… there was a three-month-old bastard child. Sinful!” When my parents spoke of this, their faces were full of disgust and regret. “If we had known she was fooling around and got pregnant, we should have broken her legs and locked her in the house.” “To be honest, this isn’t the first time she’s harmed my other daughter. Ten years ago, when she first married Julian, she was pregnant, but miscarried for no reason.” “Thinking back now, it must have been Ella and that bastard child haunting them from underground!” As the words fell, the air around Julian instantly dropped to freezing point. “Good… very good.” “If I don’t destroy this ghost myself and avenge my unborn child, I am not a man!” He looked at my sister with pity. “Baby, you’ve suffered all these years.” While he gazed lovingly at my sister, the master interrupted coldly. “Still incorrect!” “If the deceased’s life experience is wrong, her name cannot be entered into the Book of Death!” “If Mr. Jiang still refuses to tell the truth, then I cannot help you.” My parents froze, conflict in their eyes. Just then, the baby’s cries became even more piercing, as if someone was strangling him. My mother sighed deeply. “At this point, there’s no need to hide it.” “Ella wasn’t just involved with a thug; she was also entangled with a group of beggars. She really fulfilled the prophecy of becoming a beggar.” “We don’t know if the child in her belly belonged to the thug or one of the beggars. It’s truly a sin!” My mother wiped away tears. “The Jiang family has been scholars for generations, clean and innocent. Why did such a scandal happen to us… it’s my failure as a mother.” The master pointed his peach wood sword directly at my father, shouting sternly. “Still can’t write it! What secret is so big that you’d risk your own daughter and grandson’s lives?” My father couldn’t say another word. My mother looked at my sister with tears in her eyes, a mix of heartache and helplessness. Julian supported my father, his voice deep. “Father-in-law, don’t worry. I swear here and now, no matter what happened, I will always love my wife.” My father was moved to tears. He looked at my mother and decided to stop hiding. “With Julian’s word, we might as well tell the truth.” “Actually, the one who died wasn’t the older sister, Ella. It was the younger sister, Emma.” His thoughts drifted back ten years. “The night before the wedding, Emma suddenly got into a severe car accident and fell into a coma. After discussing it, we decided to have Ella pretend to be Emma and marry in her place. We thought we’d switch them back when Emma woke up.” “None of us expected Emma to just… go. Later, we thought if Ella’s identity was revealed, it would ruin your marriage.” “Helplessly, we had to go along with the mistake. Ella became Emma, and the dead Emma… we renamed her Ella.” The master realized. “No wonder I couldn’t find the name Ella in the Book of Death.” After the truth was out, the master’s ritual went smoothly. “The Book is ready, but the dead soul’s resentment has not dissipated. The problem must be at her burial site.” Everyone arrived at the desolate potter’s field and froze. The master looked at the scorched earth amidst the tall weeds, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Miss Emma died with no one to mourn her. Her resentment has solidified and can now harm the living! She came back this time for revenge.” Hearing this, my parents’ faces turned extremely ugly. My sister collapsed to the ground, blood seeping from under her skirt. “Emma, don’t blame me. I didn’t mean to steal your Julian…” Her eyes reddened, and she cried miserably. “I’m sorry, Emma. If you want a life, take mine alone, don’t hurt my child! I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I couldn’t bring you back, I could only take care of Julian for you. Please, rest in peace!” She kowtowed desperately to the scorched earth. I floated in mid-air, feeling like my chest was blocked by these hot tears. Ever since that fortune teller made the prophecy, my parents decided my sister was the future “Golden Phoenix” and pampered her. As for me, the daughter destined to be a shameless beggar, they treated me like trash. My sister lived in a sunny luxury suite; I was banished to a damp, dark storage room with a broken bed. Growing up, they always called me shameless. If I smiled at a delivery guy, they accused me of being loose. I grew up in silence. Until I met Julian, I didn’t know life could be sweet. He never thought I was unlucky or weird. He never looked at me with charity. I still remember him ruffling my hair with a smile. “Emma, there is no destiny in this world that cannot be broken.” I used to believe him implicitly. Until we met again ten years later. Julian had a child with my sister. They were a loving couple. So what if he once loved me like his life? Ten years is enough to wash away any love completely. My sister is the Golden Phoenix. I am the shameless beggar. This is my fate. When I snapped back to reality, Julian had already ordered men to dig up the scorched earth. There was only an overturned, rotten wooden box. Seeing what was under the box, everyone gasped sharply. “What is that? Why is it so evil?” The box was opened, revealing a pitch-black clay jar. The mouth of the jar was covered in dense charms drawn in cinnabar. My ashes were gone. Seeing this, my parents panicked too. “We watched Emma’s ashes being buried with our own eyes. How could they be gone? And this jar…” The master sucked in a cold breath, fear appearing on his face. Ignoring everyone’s questions, he closed his eyes tight. After a long while, he opened them, sweating profusely. “Since the older sister took the younger sister’s identity, their birth dates should have been swapped too. But the birth date suppressing this jar is still Emma’s own. It can no longer suppress the vengeful spirit!” “Also.” He turned abruptly, meeting my sister’s panicked eyes. “The younger sister has used the birth date to attach herself to the older sister! The missing ashes… must be with the older sister!” As his words fell, my sister instinctively touched her handbag. It felt cold and slimy. She shuddered, realizing her bag didn’t contain designer lipstick, but a handful of bloody ashes! “Something’s wrong.” My sister screamed, throwing the bag far away. The master shook his head. “Throwing it away is useless. The power of a vengeful ghost isn’t something mortals can resist. Her hatred is focused entirely on you.” My sister crawled over, crying and kneeling before the master. “Master, save me!” “I’m already sick like this. Her next step is definitely my life!” My parents forced themselves to calm down. “As long as you can save our daughter, the Jiang family will reward you heavily!” “First, we must swap the birth dates back. Since fate was exchanged, ‘Ella’ is already dead. The birth date on the jar must be changed to hers.” The master pondered. “As for the rest… the only plan now is to lure her out. But who has the courage?” “I do.” Julian stepped out from the crowd after comforting his sick son. His tall figure radiated reliability. “Whether you are Ella or Emma, you are the wife I’ve loved for ten years. Since someone wants to harm you and our child, I will make her wish she were dead!” “The ghost Emma hates my wife because of me. Since her hate is born of love, I will hold a grand soul-summoning ceremony for Emma to lure her out.” My parents exchanged glances and sighed in relief. My sister felt the deep love and leaned weakly into Julian’s arms. “Julian, I’m so scared. Luckily I have you. The baby and I only have you.” Julian held her steady, his eyes gentle. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.” Through that slightly weathered face, I could faintly see the boy from ten years ago. In a rainstorm, he used all his strength to push me away from a mudslide, breaking his own leg. When I was kidnapped, he blocked a fatal knife for me, leaving a hideous scar on his left shoulder. In a fire, he gave me the only respirator, nearly dying from smoke inhalation himself. But ten years later, he doesn’t belong to me. To lure me out and destroy me, Julian bought a full-page ad in the newspaper announcing the grand soul-summoning ceremony. When my sister had nightmares because of this, he dropped contracts worth hundreds of millions to stay by her side all night. Never leaving her. He even played her favorite piano pieces. Back then, I begged him several times to play for me. He always said he was too busy. I thought he was just bad at expressing himself. Now I know, he just wouldn’t play for me. When my sister fell asleep in his arms, he lovingly wiped away her tears. “Don’t worry, babe. I will protect you forever.” “Whether it’s a person or a ghost hurting you, I won’t let them have a good end!” Everyone said Julian was determined. Once he dealt with my vengeful spirit, he would surely forgive my sister’s well-intentioned deception and reconcile. But they didn’t know— Julian had been waiting for this day for ten years. 2 The soul-summoning ceremony was set for three days later, on the top floor of the city’s most luxurious hotel. Julian rented the entire venue, decorating it even more grandly than our wedding ten years ago. A red carpet stretched from the elevator to the altar, lined with white roses—my favorite flower when I was alive. All the city’s media were invited, cameras aimed at the center of the altar. Julian stood there in a black suit, his face cold. My sister, the fake “Emma,” wore a white dress, holding his arm. Her face held a sickly flush and a hint of smugness. She knew that after today, the vengeful spirit of Emma would be gone from this world. She, the real Ella, would be the rightful, unique Mrs. Chen. My parents came too, sitting in the front row, looking at Julian with the pride of having snagged a golden son-in-law. The master paced on the altar, his peach wood sword glinting coldly. The auspicious time had arrived. With a shout, the master pasted my birth date onto a straw effigy. “Emma Jiang, I know your resentment is deep, and you died with grievances!” “Today, Mr. Chen has set a feast for you to settle this!” “If you know what’s good for you, drink this wine of reconciliation and reincarnate early. If you persist in your obsession, don’t blame my sword for being ruthless and shattering your soul!” He poured a cup of wine on the ground. Julian took the peach wood sword and walked step by step toward the straw effigy representing me. His eyes held a coldness and resolve I had never seen before. Ten years ago, he used those hands to bandage my wounds, wipe my tears, and put a ring on my finger. Ten years later, he was going to use those same hands to send my soul to the eighteenth level of hell. I floated in the air, feeling a tearing pain in my heart. I hated him. I wanted to appear right now and ask him: what did our companionship ten years ago, those life-and-death moments, mean to him?! The corners of my sister’s mouth were already curving up. She spoke softly, her voice low but caught by the surrounding microphones. “Julian, let it go. My sister… she’s pitiful too. Let’s not be too ruthless.” She acted kind as always. Julian didn’t turn his head. “Mercy to an evil ghost is cruelty to the living.” He raised the peach wood sword, aimed at the straw effigy’s heart, and stabbed down hard! Thud. A muffled sound. But the one who fell wasn’t the straw effigy. It was my sister, Ella. She spat out a large mouthful of black blood and fell straight to the ground, twitching all over. The crowd went into an uproar. My parents screamed and rushed up. “Ella! Ella, what’s wrong?!” The master froze too. He looked at his unharmed altar, then at the fallen Ella, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. “No… this isn’t right…” “My soul-summoning array… wasn’t summoning Emma…” Julian turned slowly and threw away the peach wood sword. He looked down at Ella struggling in pain on the ground. There was not a shred of pity on his face. Instead, there was a bottomless, suppressed hatred of ten years. He squatted down, leaned into Ella’s ear, and asked in a voice only they could hear. “Ella.” “Ten years ago, at the winding mountain road where Emma crashed… why were you waiting there in advance?” Ella sounded like a strangled chicken, making gurgling noises. She opened her mouth, blood foam bubbling out, but she couldn’t say a word. My parents were stunned too. My dad pointed a trembling finger at Julian. “Julian… what does this mean? Why is Ella…” Julian ignored him. He just stared coldly at Ella, like looking at a corpse. “Ten years, Ella. I’ve thought about this question every day.” “The road where Emma crashed was remote, late at night, with no cameras. How could you be there so coincidentally?” “You told me you were there to pray. Praying for our wedding.” His voice was soft, but it cut into Ella and my parents like a knife. “I believed you then.” “I held you, comforted you, told you everything would be fine.” “I even agreed to your parents’ ridiculous request to let you take Emma’s identity.” He smiled, a smile full of endless mockery and icy hate. “I was such a fool, wasn’t I?” “I treated the murderer who killed my fiancée like a treasure and protected her for ten years.” Dead silence in the hall. Reporters’ flashbulbs went crazy, capturing this dramatic reversal forever. The master had quietly retreated to the side, wiping sweat, acting like none of this involved him. My mom finally reacted, screaming and lunging at Julian. “You’re talking nonsense! Our Ella is so kind, how could she harm her own sister! Julian Chen, are you crazy?!” “Crazy?” Julian stood up slowly, straightening his immaculate suit. He didn’t even look at my mom, his gaze locked on the twitching Ella. “I wish I were crazy. Then I wouldn’t dream of Emma every night.” “She asks me, covered in blood, why.” “Why didn’t I trust her.” “Why did I marry her murderer.” His voice suddenly rose, filled with ten years of suppressed pain and rage, like a desperate beast. “You tell me, why!” He kicked over the champagne tower next to him. Glass shattered piercingly, accompanied by gasps from the guests. My dad’s face was ashen, clinging to the last shred of dignity. “Julian, let’s talk calmly. There must be a misunderstanding…” “Misunderstanding?” Julian looked like he heard the biggest joke. He pulled a phone from his pocket and played a recording. A rough man’s voice echoed through the hall, sounding drunk and boastful. “…That Jiang family eldest daughter, she’s slutty and ruthless. Gave me a pile of cash to hit her sister’s car… said just to injure her, stop the wedding. Who knew that bitch’s life was so cheap, she rolled right off the cliff…” “…Afterwards, the eldest daughter gave me hush money to disappear. Heh, with that money, I’ve been living like a king…” The recording wasn’t long, but it exploded like a bomb in everyone’s ears. My parents’ faces drained of color instantly. Ella stopped twitching, staring at Julian with utter disbelief and despair. “No… not true… this isn’t real…” she mumbled, voice broken. Julian stopped the recording and threw the phone at my father’s feet. “Father-in-law, you shouldn’t be unfamiliar with this voice.” “Ten years ago, the one who handled the aftermath of Emma’s accident was this Captain Wang. He took 500,000 in bribes from the Jiang family to hastily rule a murder as an accident.” He paused, a cruel arc forming on his lips. “And that thug who caused the accident didn’t die either. He is currently in my basement, waiting for a reunion with his old lover, my dear wife, Ms. Ella Jiang.” 3 When the thug was brought up, the air in the banquet hall seemed to solidify. He was beaten black and blue, dragged like a dead dog by two bodyguards, and thrown in front of Ella. Ten years of easy living made him fat, but that face, those cloudy, greedy eyes—Ella and my parents recognized him instantly. “Ah!” Ella let out a piercing scream, crawling backward on hands and knees, trying to get away from the man. My parents were shaking, pointing at Julian, lips trembling, unable to form a sentence. “You… you…” Julian ignored them. He squatted down, grabbed the thug’s chin, and forced him to look into Ella’s terrified eyes. “Look closely. Is it her?” Scared out of his wits by the killing intent in Julian’s eyes, the thug nodded frantically. “It’s her! It’s her! Mr. Chen, she ordered everything back then! She said if I stopped her sister’s wedding, she’d give me a huge sum…” “Shut up! Shut up!” Ella screamed hysterically, cutting him off. Her hair was a mess, makeup ruined like a ghost. Not a trace of the elegant wealthy wife remained. “Julian, listen to me! It’s not like that! I was tricked by him! He… he blackmailed me!” “Blackmailed you?” Julian sneered. “Then what about this child?” He threw a document onto Ella’s face. A paternity test report, black ink on white paper, like a death warrant. “Ella, I had a vasectomy ten years ago. After Emma died, I never planned to have any children.” “Whose bastard is in your belly?” Ella’s crying stopped abruptly. She looked at the report in disbelief, then at Julian, and finally her gaze landed on the dying infant. The “Golden Grandson” she used to solidify her status and inherit the billions. Now, it was a joke. Irrefutable proof of her infidelity and promiscuity. “No…” She broke down completely, holding her head, letting out inhuman wails. My parents collapsed too. It was over. Everything was over. They schemed for ten years, thinking they finally flew up the branch to become phoenixes. In the end, it was all for nothing. The so-called billionaire heir was a bastard! My mom suddenly went crazy, rushing up to slap Ella’s face left and right. “You slut! Shameless thing! You’ve lost all the Jiang family’s face!” “How dare you! How dare you do such a thing!” My dad recovered too, roaring at Ella. “We raised you for nothing all these years! This is how you repay us? Huh?” A luxurious night banquet turned into an ugly farce. Guests pointed, reporters’ cameras faithfully recorded everything. The Jiang family was finished. From today on, they would be the city’s laughingstock. And the orchestrator of all this, Julian Chen, just watched coldly. Like watching a monkey show that had nothing to do with him. Only when Ella was beaten half to death by my mom did he wave his hand, letting bodyguards pull them apart. “Don’t kill her yet.” His voice was terrifyingly calm. “I haven’t told you why she and your precious grandson fell ill.” He turned to the master who was already scared silly. “Master, tell them what ‘Midnight Soul-Breaking Powder’ is.” The master walked out trembling, falling to his knees. “Mr. Chen, spare me! Spare me!” “This ‘Midnight Soul-Breaking Powder’ is an ancient poison. Colorless, tasteless. Mixed into food, even gods can’t detect it. The poisoned person will feel like ten thousand ants eating their heart every midnight and noon. Bone-piercing pain. Day after day, until their essence is exhausted and they die.” “And this poison passes from mother to fetus.” “The young master… he… carried the poison from the womb…” Hearing this, my parents were struck by lightning, standing frozen. They looked at the infant with blue skin and weak breath on the hospital bed, then at Ella who was like mud on the ground. The last light in their eyes went out. “The poison… you poisoned them?” My dad asked hoarsely. Julian didn’t deny it. “Yes.” He looked at Ella. No love, no hate in his eyes. Only dead barrenness. “The bird’s nest soup I fed you daily, the milk I fed that bastard… I added something to all of it.” “Ella, you made me lose my love and my unborn child.” “I will make you, and your bastard, taste what it means to live a life worse than death.” 4 The sky fell on the Jiang family. Overnight, Jiang Group stocks hit limit down, partners withdrew investment, banks called in loans. The empire my father spent his life building collapsed instantly under Julian’s thunderous revenge. Media coverage was overwhelming, headlines shocking. [Billionaire Wife Swap: Sister Murdered, Elder Sister Takes Over with Bastard Child!] [Ten-Year Scam: Chen CEO’s Revenge, Jiang Family Becomes Laughingstock!] [Venomous Heart: Sister Murders Sister to Marry into Wealth!] My parents became rats crossing the street; everyone shouted to beat them. As glorious as they were before, they were that pathetic now. Villas seized, luxury cars towed. Even buying groceries meant getting pelted with rotten leaves. They finally understood what it meant to be deserted by all, to have nothing. They came to find Julian, kneeling outside his company, begging with snot and tears. “Julian, for Emma’s sake, give us a way out!” “We know we were wrong! We really know!” Julian looked down coldly from the floor-to-ceiling window on the top floor at the two tiny figures below. Like looking at ants. He didn’t go down. He just had his assistant send them something. A USB drive. Inside was a video. Ten years ago, in a VIP hospital room. I lay on the bed, covered in tubes, vital signs weak. My parents stood by the bed. No sadness on their faces, only impatience and calculation. “Why isn’t this girl dead yet? Every day is another medical bill,” my mom complained. My dad frowned, looking at the door, lowering his voice. “Wait a bit. After Ella and Julian’s wedding, we’ll say… rescue efforts failed.” “Wait for what! Long nights bring many dreams!” My mom’s eyes turned vicious. “She’s a vegetable anyway. Keeping her is a burden. Why don’t we…” She reached out, slowly moving toward my oxygen tube. “…give her a hand.” The video ended there. I floated in the air, watching my parents’ faces twist in extreme terror. So, my death wasn’t an accident, wasn’t fate. It was my own parents, paving the way for their “Golden Phoenix,” who pulled my oxygen plug with their own hands. They suffocated me to death. Julian’s assistant stood before them, conveying his boss’s words expressionlessly. “Mr. Chen says he has already given this video to the police.” “Also, Mr. Chen found out some other things.” The assistant paused, tone mocking. “For example, that fortune teller’s prophecy that Miss Emma would be ‘shameless and become a beggar.’ It was actually because since she was a teenager, Miss Emma secretly donated all her allowance to a homeless shelter. She often volunteered, chatting with homeless people, bringing them food.” “In those people’s eyes, she wasn’t bad luck. She was an angel.” “But the Jiang family twisted this kindness into ‘fooling around with beggars’.” “Truly laughable.” My parents were completely dumbfounded. They stood there blankly, as if their souls had been sucked out. They always thought I was a stain that would shame the family. They used that ridiculous prophecy to define my life, feeling justified in their coldness, cruelty… even murder. But in the end, they discovered that what they destroyed with their own hands was the only light in their family. Regret and despair drowned them like a tide. They finally understood that Julian’s revenge wasn’t for money or power. He wanted to execute their hearts. He wanted them to rot slowly in endless regret and pain.

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