Category: English

After I went broke, a possessive, dark-haired guy started harassing me. “Sweetheart, I found the boba tea you threw away. There’s still lipstick on the straw. I really want to kiss it…” Me: “Spot me for the tea, it was $12.” “Sweetheart, I stole your jacket. It smells like you. I love it so much…” Me: “That one was $300. I can sell you my perfume secondhand.” The dark-haired guy was bewildered: “Sweetheart, aren’t you scared of me? Does it mean anyone with money can pursue you?” I received a transfer of $52,000 from him. I replied without hesitation: “Husband.” Dark-haired guy: “?” 1 Messages from the dark-haired guy kept popping up. “Sweetheart, wrong person? “Are you dating? Was it that guy who chatted you up at the convenience store yesterday? “Why does he get to be your husband^^, I’m going to beat him black and blue…” I typed a confused question mark. And replied, all business: “Spend enough and you get a bonus. That ‘husband’ is on the house. “You transferred me so much money, you earned it.” My family went bankrupt. I’d gone from a “rich socialite” to a “broke socialite.” Old business rivals were targeting me, and I couldn’t find any decent jobs. To pay off debts, I was working three shady jobs a day. Sure, this guy’s messages were a little… clingy. And a tiny bit creepy. But for money, what was a little dignity? The dark-haired guy didn’t seem pleased: “If I find out you call anyone else ‘husband’ for money, I’ll kiss you till your lips are numb.” I thought for a moment, then replied: “Kissing comes with a separate price.” He sent a string of ellipses. “You’d be scared if you saw me. I’m ugly, not good enough for you. So, don’t say things like that to tempt me, sweetheart.” Just then, the door opened. A man in a perfectly tailored bespoke suit walked in. His sophisticated aura felt completely out of place in the dingy convenience store. He asked for a pack of cigarettes. I scanned the barcode, my voice flat. “That’ll be a hundred bucks.” He pulled a bill from his wallet. As I reached for it, he caught my hand in mid-air. Liam traced the palm of my hand with an almost desperate tenderness. He chuckled softly, his voice thick with a possessive obsession. “Finally, I have you.” 2 A wave of disgust washed over me. I yanked my hand back. Liam didn’t seem bothered. He glanced around the messy store, as if amused. “Halley, you’ve been avoiding me, and this is where you end up working?” He then added with a decisive tone. “Come back with me. You can still have your old life. I’ll give you money, I’ll give you love. Isn’t that better?” I felt sick to my stomach. It reminded me of that saying in our circles: you don’t call them girlfriends, you “keep” them. What was this? Become my ex-fiancé’s trophy? I spoke coldly. “My family may be broke, but I haven’t fallen so far that you can just insult me. The item’s purchased, can you leave now?” Liam opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to say more. But someone tapped his shoulder from behind. A guy wearing a mask, his bangs falling over his forehead, couldn’t quite hide his beautiful brown eyes. Despite his clean, crisp white shirt, there was an indescribable gloom about him. He spoke softly. “Excuse me, I need to check out.” I’d been working at the convenience store for half a month and had seen him many times. He always bought the same thing: a bag of lemon-flavored gummy bears. I let out a sigh of relief, grateful for his intervention, and gave him a smile. “All set. See you next time.” When I turned back, Liam was gone. He’d left a note under a condom. “Think it over, then come find me.” 3 After work, I couldn’t hold back my anger. I angrily kicked a soda can down the street. Was Liam crazy? Think it over my ass! It truly felt like a tiger fallen to the plains, bullied by dogs. Not only did I have to endure the mockery of my old rivals, but now this humiliation from my ex-fiancé. I would rather die broke than be his trophy! My phone screen flashed. The dark-haired guy had sent me another message. It was a candid photo, taken from a hidden angle, of Liam buying cigarettes at the convenience store. “Sweetheart, who is he? He dared to touch you, should I break his hand? “I’ll make all the bad men around you disappear. You belong only to me.” Oh, so he wasn’t just sending me creepy messages. He was also stalking me in real life. Well, that was… Fantastic! I promptly sent him all of Liam’s social media accounts, personal information, and phone numbers. I even added, thoughtfully: “Honey, if you want more info on him, you can dig up his whole file. Oh, and one broken hand isn’t enough, you absolutely have to break both!” The dark-haired guy was silent for a moment. Then he replied: “…Okay, I understand. “Why didn’t you listen to me and called me ‘husband’ again?” I replied with starry eyes: “Because you protect me. It feels so safe.” He sent a helpless emoji. “I told you, you’d be scared if you met me in person.” I blinked, casually saying: “Then let’s meet.” A few minutes later, the doorbell rang sharply. My heart leaped. The dark-haired guy sent two short words: “Open up.” 4 I wrestled with myself internally. Of course, I was scared. But curiosity won out over fear. I had to see who this dark-haired guy really was. The moment I cracked the door open, a hand with distinct knuckles pressed against the frame. He grabbed my wrist, pulling me forcefully into his embrace. My rundown apartment. The hallway lights were out. And being trapped in his arms plunged my vision into complete darkness. Even with a voice changer, his tone was chilling and somber. “Sweetheart… Even after I do this to you, do you still feel safe? Why don’t you ever listen to me, why are you always so careless?” My mind was blank. My face was buried in the space between his pectoral muscles. The fresh scent of lemon fabric softener clung to him, and it felt strangely familiar. I instinctively blurted out. “I actually feel pretty safe. You’ve got big pecs.” Dark-haired guy: “?” He whispered in my ear, a hint of gritted teeth in his voice. “Sweetheart, do you even realize how much I want to kiss your lips swollen right now?” 5 The dark-haired guy chuckled, a self-deprecating sound. His voice then took on a profound sadness, laced with self-consciousness. “Why are you so unguarded? Why do you keep making me fall for you again and again? I knew we weren’t a good match, but I still gravitated towards you like a moth to a flame. Don’t you… aren’t you scared of me at all?” But he hadn’t actually done anything to hurt me, had he? Just some verbal harassment. And he constantly “dropped coins.” He even offered to beat up Liam for me. What wasn’t to like? I replied candidly. “Not really scared. I think you’re actually a pretty good person.” He paused. Then he took my hand and guided it to his face. My breath caught—a raised, uneven scar. Even without seeing it, I could tell it was quite disfiguring, marring his otherwise smooth skin. He took a deep breath, his voice hoarse. “…And now?” Before I could answer, he suddenly pushed me away. He thrust several shopping bags into my hands. His voice trembled. “See, I knew this would happen. You can use the things I bought for you. I’m leaving now.” His footsteps were unusually hurried as he left. I stood there for a long time. When I returned to my room and turned on the light, I saw it was a boba tea and a pile of new clothes. Jasmine milk tea, three-quarters sweet, light ice. Just like the one he’d picked up that day. The jacket he’d stolen, he’d bought a new one to replace it. Why hadn’t he let me finish speaking? I flexed my fingers, remembering the touch. What I really wanted to ask was: “It must have hurt a lot when you got that injury, didn’t it?” 6 I changed jobs. I started working at a bar. The environment was a bit noisy, but the pay was excellent. Someone sat down at the bar. I asked professionally. “What can I get for you?” “Whiskey Sour.” Hearing that familiar, cool voice, I instantly looked up. It was the customer who often bought gummy bears at the convenience store. Still dressed the same: long bangs, a mask, a white shirt. But he seemed even more melancholic. I smiled at him. “What a coincidence.” He lowered his gaze, giving a soft “Mmm.” After a moment’s hesitation, he spoke. “Why aren’t you at the convenience store anymore?” I sighed. “Because I didn’t want to be found… so I changed jobs.” His eyelashes fluttered, and a flicker of hurt and disappointment, almost imperceptible, crossed his face. I handed him the Whiskey Sour and a bag of lemon-flavored gummy bears. “The gummies are on me. I saw you always bought them, so I tried them myself and they’re pretty good.” He stared absently at the glass. I was a little curious. “Are you very introverted? You’re at a bar but still wearing a mask, how do you drink like that?” He remained silent for a long time. Just when I thought he wouldn’t answer, he suddenly looked up at me, his eyes swirling with an indescribable emotion. He spoke softly. “I have a scar on my face. …I’m afraid I’ll scare you if I take it off, sis.” 7 My heart pounded. The dark-haired guy also had a scar on his face. I gazed at him, about to speak, when my phone suddenly buzzed. The dark-haired guy had disappeared for days but had finally sent a message: “Sweetheart, there are so many bad men around you. I want to lock you up at home, so you’ll only have me. Even if we go out, I’ll put a leash on your wrist. To keep you securely by my side, so no other man will ever covet you…” He’d even sent a candid photo of me smiling and handing him the Whiskey Sour. My breath hitched. I instinctively scanned the area, but the crowd was too dense to find him. “I’m sorry, should I not have been so direct? Are you very scared?” His cool voice, tinged with self-mockery, brought me back. The person in front of me seemed very insecure, his head bowed even lower. Ah, he was still worried about his scar scaring me… I put a straw in his Whiskey Sour and smiled at him. “No, not at all. I have a friend who also got hurt on their face. But that doesn’t change the fact that they’re a really good person. Use the straw, you can drink even with your mask on.” He murmured softly. “…A friend?” He paused, then asked. “Can we be friends?” His brown eyes truly were beautiful. Exceptionally clear and bright, reflecting little points of light like stars. “Sure, I’m Halley. Nice to meet you.” He seemed shy, his earlobes turning a little red. “Sawyer.” I had a vague feeling that name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it right away. Sawyer looked up at me, then seemed to drop his gaze in disappointment. My thoughts were interrupted again by another message. “Now he wants to be friends with you, next he’ll want to be your boyfriend, right? Why does he get your tenderness? Hmm… I broke the other guy’s left hand last time, how about this one gets his right hand?” This was endless. After Sawyer left, I finally had a moment to myself. I replied to the dark-haired guy with a blank expression. “Don’t you dare hurt him. Stop hiding, come out. I’m off work, you’re allowed to walk me home.” 8 Stepping out of the bar, I saw a black Kawasaki motorcycle parked outside. The dim streetlamp cast a yellow halo around a man’s tall silhouette. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, great physique. He was wearing a helmet, so I couldn’t see his face. I climbed onto the back seat. The wind howled; neither of us spoke the whole way. I was still angry, so I gripped the dark-haired guy’s waist, provocatively squeezing a few times. His abs were so well-defined, wasn’t it all just to tempt me? Hmph, a bad, muscle-bound man with no self-control! The motorcycle slowly stopped. His voice, distorted by the voice changer, was exceptionally deep. “We’re home. You should go up.” I scoffed coldly. “Don’t you have anything to say to me?” He seemed puzzled, tilting his head sluggishly. I angrily got off the bike. Finally, I let out what had been building up inside me for a long time. “Why did you run away that day without letting me finish? Why did you block me without a word? You leave when you want, come back when you want, and now you’re stalking and harassing me again. I really don’t understand you, what do you even want?” The dark-haired guy’s head drooped. His hands tightened on the handlebars. After a long moment, he spoke, his voice dry. “It’s my fault.” He continued slowly. “After that day, you changed jobs. I thought my face scared you. I thought about it for a long time and decided I shouldn’t bother you anymore. I tried to stay away, but I found I couldn’t. The moment I saw another man near you, I couldn’t control my jealousy. So… mmm, I sent you those messages again. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” I almost laughed in exasperation. Hey, you talk a big game, but at least be consistent! All this time, the trash I left outside magically disappeared by morning. My accidentally lost work badge was quietly found and put back in my pocket. And several of my dresses hanging on the balcony had gone missing. These were designer clothes I bought before I went broke, and they were expensive! Why didn’t he pay for them (T.T)!! Several times I tried to message the dark-haired guy, only to see a red exclamation mark. I was at my wit’s end. I said honestly. “Why are you overthinking things? I don’t dislike your scar. And I’m not scared.” The dark-haired guy’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He seemed a little taken aback. I stroked my chin. “But your recent performance hasn’t been great. I really need to punish you.” Hearing the word “punishment,” I felt like he got even more excited… His voice was trembling. “What kind of punishment?” I calculated the money for the dresses he’d stolen. Righteously, I said: “I’ll fine you $52,000, just like last time. Oh, and remember to mark it as a voluntary gift. Also, I’ll punish you by making you bury me.” The dark-haired guy said blankly. “Huh?” I couldn’t be bothered to explain further. I just buried my face in his chest. Ugh, soft and still so big. Even if I suffocated, it would be a blessed death! All the subtle hints of death from a day’s work vanished. Daddy, we love you~ We were so close. The scent of him hadn’t changed, still lemon. He sighed softly, his voice softening. “…Hey, how is this a punishment for me? It’s clearly a reward, isn’t it?”

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1 Ben took the fall for me, a ten-year prison sentence. Before he went in, he meticulously arranged everything that mattered to him: Sterling Corp, the empire he built from scratch, and the girl he cherished. But for me, his wife of many years, all that was left was a yellowed contract. “You helped me ten years ago. Now I’m serving your time. We’re even, Clara.” I silently watched Ben through the glass. I searched for any flicker of emotion in his eyes, but all I found was cold indifference and a profound sense of relief. It hit me then, a cold, hard truth: he had never loved me. “Alright,” I said, tearing the contract in two. “We’re even.” A week later, I received a call from the prison guard. Ben was dead. He’d encountered the man who almost assaulted me, that monster from my past. To stop him from ever getting out and harassing me, Ben had taken them both down. I hung up, and a gust of cold wind hit me. I realized I’d drifted into the middle of the highway. A massive truck barreled towards me. I was thrown, landing hard in a pool of my own blood. When I woke up again, I was back. Back to before. This time, I wouldn’t let that contract trap him, or me. … I jolted awake, realizing I’d fallen asleep in the car. Cold sweat slicked my forehead. I heard a rustling beside me. I turned, a little disoriented. It was Ben. Calming myself, I realized we were on our way to the Humbert estate, for him to formally propose. In my previous life, I had used that contract to force him into marriage. But I wasn’t satisfied. I insisted he make a proper proposal. That day, just as he sat down, he received a frantic, tearful call from Chloe. He left me without a second thought, abandoning me, which led to my grandfather having a stroke. I took a deep breath, my throat dry. “Pull over. No need to go.” The man beside me finally looked up, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. “Now what? Playing hard to get?” He sighed. “Just settle down. Isn’t this what you wanted?” I turned my head, my gaze dropping to his phone, which he hadn’t quite put away. A long string of green message bubbles filled the screen, beneath a pink rabbit avatar. He was comforting her. The realization squeezed my heart, a bitter, self-mocking pang. “I’m not playing hard to get, and I’m not joking,” I paused, my throat tightening. “I just don’t want it anymore.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, his expression a mix of exhaustion and exasperation. “What is it you want then?” Just then, the rain began, blurring my view through the car window. “That contract? Let’s scrap it. And… we should get a divorce.” But before I could finish, Ben let out a derisive scoff, his eyes full of mockery. “Scrap it?” He stared at me. “Clara Humbert, you say that so casually, it almost makes me forget you were the one who practically begged to be tied to me.” My face burned with shame. Back then, Sterling Corp was in crisis, on the brink of collapse. I’d been pursuing him for a long time, so I leveraged the Humbert family’s influence. “Sign this and be with me, and the Humbert family can help you through this crisis.” I admitted I took advantage of his situation. But I was naive enough to believe I could make Ben fall in love with me. I was wrong. Even after marriage, after kisses, after sharing the most intimate moments in bed, he still didn’t love me. The memories stung, bringing tears to my eyes. “Yes, I did tie you down.” I pulled out the contract I once treasured. With Ben’s eyes darkening, I tore it to pieces. “I was wrong. The contract is void. You don’t have to be trapped by me anymore.” “Stop the car!” Ben’s voice was cold. The driver slammed on the brakes. I instinctively lurched forward, my fingers slamming hard against the seat in front, a sharp pain making me wince. Ben said nothing, just stared at the torn pieces of the contract beside him. An unreadable emotion flickered in his eyes. “Is it about Chloe?” His voice was weary, then he seemed to understand, assuming I was being unreasonable, jealous. “I told you, she’s just my assistant. Nothing more.” “Is that so?” Just an assistant. Yet he’d risk a public argument with me, just to protect her. He’d leave me sick and alone, flying to a neighboring city just to celebrate her birthday. I swallowed the surge of bitterness in my heart. “Never mind.” “Anyway, Ben, I think our relationship ends here.” He turned away, scoffing, clearly not taking my words seriously. Just then, his phone chimed, displaying the pink rabbit avatar. “Go,” I said. He instantly silenced his phone, a strange irritation in his voice. “Can you stop pretending to be so magnanimous?” He seemed to lose control, his frustration growing. “Since you insist on playing the part, we’re not going today. Get out.” I glanced at the rain outside, then opened the car door. Ignoring his unspoken question, I stepped out and walked towards the Humbert estate, alone, without looking back. Back home, my mother was shocked. “What happened? Where’s Ben? Wasn’t he supposed to come over today?” I took the ginger tea she offered. “He won’t be coming.” I looked at her. “Mom, doesn’t the Humbert Group have an expatriate program? For the London branch, right? I’ll go.” She seemed to realize something. “But… that’s at least three years away.” I nodded lightly, checking my social media. Chloe had just posted a picture of a man’s back. “Yes,” I said. “The longer, the better.” 2 The next day, I returned to the marital home Ben and I shared, intending to grab my documents. But when I opened the door, a woman’s figure stood there. “Ms. Humbert.” Chloe’s voice was timid, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her pristine white dress. I paused, then casually grunted in acknowledgement, walking past her into the house. Ben emerged from the bedroom. Seeing me, a flicker of unease crossed his face. “Don’t get the wrong idea,” he quickly said. “She nearly got harassed by her landlord last night, had nowhere else to go, so I brought her back.” I opened my mouth, then just nodded. I didn’t even want to bother asking why he didn’t just put her in a hotel, such a foolish, demeaning question. “Alright, I understand. A woman alone isn’t safe.” I offered a hollow smile. “She can stay as long as she needs.” He pressed his lips together, clearly annoyed despite getting the answer he wanted. “What’s wrong with you? Why…” Why aren’t you causing a scene? I knew that’s what he wanted to ask, because in the past, that’s exactly what I would have done. Any little stir on his part, and I would have been a hysterical mess, torturing him and myself. Now, I refused to repeat that cycle. “You two talk,” I said, heading towards the bedroom. “Don’t mind me.” Ben frowned, his eyes deepening. Inside the room, I found my ID and passport, packing them into my bag. I left nothing else. My wedding ring, along with the signed divorce papers, remained in the drawer. As I turned to leave, Chloe, who had silently entered, startled me. “Are you playing reverse psychology?” she asked, her soft demeanor replaced by a steely glint in her eyes. “It’s a very clever tactic.” I scoffed. “Whether I’m retreating or advancing, you’re still not exactly in a flattering light,” I said, stepping closer. Her face paled slightly as I sneered, “Chloe, if you’re going to be the other woman, at least have the decency to keep it discreet.” “You!” Chloe’s eyes reddened, but she quickly composed herself. She tugged down the strap of her white dress, revealing faint red marks. A smug look spread across her face. “Ms. Humbert, guess which bed we shared last night?” My gaze fixated on the marks for a moment, a fleeting sense of disorientation. My fingers instinctively clenched. After a beat, I reached out and pulled her dress strap back up, covering the marks. My voice was dripping with contempt. “If you want to act like a cheap tart, no one’s stopping you.” Chloe’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you out of your mind with anger?” I turned to leave, ignoring her. But as I brushed past, Chloe suddenly grabbed my wrist. She handed me a photo – a child. “What about this? Can you still be indifferent?” I glanced at the picture, and my steps froze. The child was the spitting image of Ben. It was his child… I looked up. Chloe had already retrieved her phone. “He’s a year and two months old.” She stared at me, her voice cutting. “Ms. Humbert, just step aside. The bond and affection between Ben and me can never be broken.” My eyes dropped, a sharp pain in my heart. By my calculations, Chloe’s pregnancy coincided exactly with the time I lost my own child… When I first became pregnant, I was overjoyed, anticipating the baby’s arrival more than anyone. But I wasn’t made of stone. I could feel Ben wasn’t particularly happy. Yet, back then, I deluded myself, pretending not to notice. The night it happened, Ben and I had just finished an event and were supposed to go home together. But midway, he received a phone call. It was the first time I’d seen him so panicked and worried. “Clara, there’s a problem at the office,” he said, pulling the car over, his voice urgent. “Can you take a cab home, please?” I didn’t want to hold him back, so I obediently got out. On my way home, as I passed through an alley, a dark figure suddenly appeared, clamping a hand over my mouth and nose, dragging me deeper into the shadows! My eyes widened in terror. I instinctively protected my belly, screaming and struggling with all my might. My hand brushed against my phone, and in a panic, I dialed Ben’s number, terrified. “Ben—” As soon as he answered, Ben’s voice was impatient. “I’m busy right now, we’ll talk later.” A harsh click, and he hung up, cold and dismissive. The man had me pinned to the ground, tearing at my clothes. Thankfully, a few college students happened to walk by. He cursed and, before fleeing, delivered a vicious kick to my stomach. A searing pain shot through me. I stared in horror at the blood gushing out, crying in despair and humiliation. Then, I blacked out. When I woke up, Ben was by my side. His voice was hoarse. “The baby… we couldn’t save him.” 3 “Why did you hang up?” I asked him, tears streaming down my face. But Ben remained silent. “I had something important to do.” Thinking of my unborn child, my eyes involuntarily welled up, my heart throbbing with a dull ache. Chloe, seeing my distress, wore a triumphant smirk. “That night, I was the one who called him away. The second before your call, we were kissing.” I looked up sharply, the tiny sparks of hope in my eyes extinguished. “…What did you say?” I had always believed Ben genuinely had an emergency that night. It turned out… I lowered my gaze, a bitter smile twisting my lips, a laugh that was both ironic and mournful. Then I closed my eyes. In Chloe’s horrified gaze, I grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head against the wall. Bang! Chloe shrieked, clearly not expecting me to resort to physical violence. She struggled, crying out in pain. “Let me go!” Hearing the commotion, Ben rushed in, gasping at the sight. He quickly pulled us apart. He shoved me hard, shielding the red-eyed woman behind him. “Clara Humbert! Are you out of your mind?!” His face was dark with fury. “I knew it! You were just pretending to be magnanimous, and now you’re actually resorting to violence!” I stumbled, my lower back hitting the corner of the dressing table, the sharp pain draining the color from my lips. Ben frowned at my distress, instinctively moving to help, but then forcibly stopped himself. “Ben,” my voice was hoarse, struggling to suppress the rising bitterness. “Where were you the night I miscarried?” His pupils constricted. He instinctively glanced at Chloe behind him, who looked slightly guilty. A flicker of panic crossed his face. “That night, she and I were together, but we were just…” “It doesn’t matter anymore.” I softly cut him off, closing my eyes to hide the redness. Just the thought of my baby dying while they were in the throes of passion made me sick to my stomach! I choked out, “Ben, it was my mistake to force you into this marriage.” My voice was barely a whisper. “From now on, let’s just… leave it be.” With that, I turned to leave. But as I brushed past, the pale-faced man grabbed my hand. His voice was low and firm. “What do you mean, you were wrong? What do you mean, ‘leave it be’? Clara Humbert, you explain yourself!” I was stiff for a moment, then slowly turned around. The redness in my eyes made Ben falter. “Clara…” I slowly pried his hand open, my voice hoarse as I said each word. “The contract is void. We’re getting a divorce.” Ben’s pupils trembled. He instinctively blocked my path, his throat working. “Clara Humbert, I don’t believe you’d so easily talk about divorce. You were the one who begged me back then, don’t you forget!” My body stiffened. I distinctly remembered the shock and annoyance in his eyes the day I slapped that contract in front of him. “Clara Humbert, what’s the point of forcing it?” But I had merely smiled indifferently. “Whether a forced melon is sweet or not, we’ll find out later. Ben, I believe it will be sweet.” Now… I gave a bitter twist of my lips. “It was my folly. Just consider me insane.” Then I turned and shut the door with a bang.

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I was a classic girl with a killer figure. When I was down with a fever, my boyfriend, Liam, who was supposed to be looking after me, suggested getting intimate. I turned him down, and he moped for three whole days. My best friend, Charlotte, told me that grown-up desires were normal, and I was just being old-fashioned. So, one evening, after I saw him pull into the driveway from my window, I took a deep breath, gathered all my courage, and slipped into some lacy lingerie. The moment the door swung open, I closed my eyes and practically launched myself at him. “Honey, you’re home!” His reaction was immediate, a palpable heat pressing against me. Just as I was about to arch my back and lean into him, a deep, raspy voice rumbled from above me. It belonged to Liam’s best friend, and Charlotte’s fiancé, Sebastian. “It’s me. You’ve got the wrong guy.” 1 Hearing his voice, I froze, utterly bewildered. I scrambled out of his arms, my cheeks burning, not knowing where to put my hands. The sudden exposure of my skin felt scorching hot with embarrassment. I quickly grabbed my jacket from the nearby chair and threw it on. “Mr. Hayes? What are you doing here?” Sebastian Hayes averted his gaze, his profile sharp and elegant, an air of cool sophistication about him. In the dim candlelight, I swore his ears were flushed crimson. “It’s Valentine’s Day. I came to drop something off for Charlotte.” Sure enough, in his hand was an exquisitely wrapped box. A Cartier watch. My mind whispered, That’s expensive! But I knew Charlotte never wore watches. Charlotte and I had been friends since college. She was the campus queen, and my closest confidante. Even after graduation, we ended up in apartments right across the hall from each other. Sebastian, she talked about him daily—her fiancé. He was also the stoic CEO of the company where I worked. The realization sent another wave of panic and embarrassment through me. But then I glanced down, and my eyes snagged on the undeniable bulge beneath his tailored trousers. The memory of that forceful pressure against my stomach just moments ago came flooding back, making my face flush even hotter. Sebastian noticed my gaze. He stiffened, then turned his back to me. “Just thought I’d let you know, I passed your desk on my way out earlier. Your computer’s power cable looked like it was unplugged.” He cleared his throat. “…Nothing else. I’ll be going now.” The door clicked shut, and I exhaled in a rush of relief. Then his words belatedly registered. My computer! If the power was out, what about my rendering? I quickly pulled out my phone to check the remote access. To my surprise, the rendering was still running. Had Sebastian been mistaken? Well, that was a relief, a false alarm. I pressed my shirt against my burning cheeks, wishing I could slap myself. How was I ever going to face him and Charlotte again? 2 Just as I started to relax, I realized the door hadn’t been fully closed. Through the crack, I saw Charlotte open her door for Sebastian. Her face lit up with surprise as she linked her arm through his, playfully chiding him. “You came? I thought you said you were too busy with work! You were just planning a surprise for me, weren’t you?” She gestured to the gift. “Is this for me? Thank you!” Sebastian let her hold his arm, then lifted the box slightly. “It was a sponsor gift from a client. Just thought I’d pass it along.” He was always like that, a total workaholic and, as Charlotte often said, completely clueless about romance. She’d told me they’d known each other since childhood, a classic childhood sweetheart story from two families of similar social standing. Charlotte had pursued him for years, but they’d only gotten engaged three months ago. Their parents had even met and dined together. Though Sebastian’s assistant usually sent gifts and flowers for holidays, he was never one for grand gestures. He always claimed to be too busy for dates, Valentine’s Day included. The fact that he’d actually shown up in person to deliver a gift felt like a small victory for Charlotte. As she’d always put it, even the coldest ice would eventually melt. So, despite Sebastian’s stiff delivery and the fact that it was something she didn’t even like, Charlotte was thrilled. She batted her bright eyes, a blush creeping up her cheeks as she invited him inside. But Sebastian merely waited until she’d taken the box, then gently disengaged his hand. “No, I can’t. I have business to discuss tonight.” Charlotte deflated, biting her lip as she leaned closer. “We’re engaged, Sebastian. On Valentine’s night, all you want to do is work?” Her voice dropped, soft and thin, her eyes glistening. “You weren’t like this before. In college, you even wanted to skip studying abroad for me, and you made me a declaration of love using code. But ever since you came back from England, you’ve been so distant.” She looked up at him, a tremor in her voice. “Now you won’t even kiss me.” Their voices, though muffled, were perfectly clear through the crack in the door. I clenched my fists, feeling a surge of indignation on Charlotte’s behalf. What kind of boyfriend was that? Sebastian remained silent, his expression unreadable. He simply said, “It’s getting late. I should go.” As he stepped into the elevator, he glanced towards my door, startling me into quickly shutting it tight. 3 Back inside, I curled up on the sofa, waiting for Liam to come home. But it was Charlotte who arrived first. Seeing her, a fresh wave of guilt and unease washed over me. My parents had divorced early, and I’d been raised by my aunt and uncle. They were good to me, but the feeling of being an outsider and the emotional void never quite left. In my freshman year of college, my aunt sent me some homemade sausages. My roommates wrinkled their noses, calling them ugly and making fun of me for being a country bumpkin. It was Charlotte who stood up for me. “What, you think the food you eat isn’t grown by farmers? Don’t be so pretentious.” She sniffed the sausages, smiling warmly at me. “They smell amazing! If they don’t want them, give them all to me. I want to take them home this weekend!” Charlotte always defended me, opening her heart to me. Even though I dressed plainly, I somehow always had guys pursuing me. She was always on guard, making sure I didn’t get hurt by players, jerks, or shady characters. Thanks to her, I avoided a lot of bad news. If a girl suddenly acted friendly, she’d warn me, saying she’d heard them badmouthing me. For all four years of college, we were inseparable. A true friendship, I thought, was worth more than countless fake ones, and I never felt alone. The more I thought about it, the deeper my guilt became. I felt terrible, I’d betrayed her. I swore I’d take what happened tonight to my grave and forget it completely. Charlotte bounced in, grinning as she flaunted the watch on her wrist. “Sebastian gave it to me himself. It’s a designer watch, over ten thousand dollars! Isn’t it pretty?” I nodded vigorously. “It’s beautiful.” She smirked. “Sebastian and I are childhood sweethearts. No one knows him better than I do. He adores me. He might seem distant on the surface, but he’s incredibly passionate in private.” “The only reason he doesn’t want to live together is because he respects me.” That was Charlotte’s usual line. She always told me how good Sebastian was to her, how much he loved her. I’d always believed her. Maybe Sebastian just wasn’t good at showing affection. I hugged her arm, playfully whining, “Yes, yes, you two are perfect for each other. When you get married, you’ll be Mrs. CEO. You’ll give me a promotion then, right?” Charlotte tapped my forehead. “Don’t worry, you’re my ride-or-die. I’ll take care of you.” As she spoke, her sharp eyes caught a glimpse of my lingerie beneath my coat, and then the elaborate dinner spread on the living room table. She gasped, covering her mouth. “Oh my goodness, I just casually suggested it! You’re really going all out to win Liam back, aren’t you?” My face flushed crimson, and I wrung my hands awkwardly. 4 Liam was someone Charlotte had introduced me to. She’d assured me he was different from the others, a truly wonderful guy. He pursued me passionately, and eventually, I relented. Three months ago, we started dating. He was a gentleman, attentive—the epitome of a perfect boyfriend. Normally, adult intimacy was perfectly normal. But on our first night, I was burning up with a fever after working late. I asked him to get me some medicine and a thermometer. Instead, he came back with a box of condoms, leaning close to my ear, his voice dripping with suggestive laughter. “They say a high temperature adds a certain spice to things. Shall we try it?” I pushed him away, gagging, and ever since, I’d been uncomfortable with his touch. Liam apologized profusely the next day, full of remorse. I accepted his apology. But lately, he’d been saying that accommodating my feelings was exhausting, and he wanted to break up. I was terrified. Besides work, my life revolved around him and Charlotte. I couldn’t bear to lose either of them. So, when Charlotte casually suggested using a honey trap, I actually took her seriously. “You look stunning. Liam’s a lucky guy, having a girlfriend who can cook so well and still be so adventurous.” Charlotte’s words pulled me from my thoughts. “If you’d done this sooner, he’d be wrapped around your finger, never dream of neglecting you.” I shyly pressed my lips together. “But my figure isn’t that great. I’m a bit… curvy.” A knowing glint flickered in Charlotte’s eyes. She led me to the mirror. It reflected both me and her, petite and exquisite. “So what? Even if your figure is average, and your looks are ordinary, in the eyes of someone who loves you, you’re the best.” Charlotte always offered such understanding comfort. “Alright, I won’t interrupt your sweet reunion.” “Liam’s a top-notch boyfriend. I’ve known him for years, inside and out. Don’t worry, he’s crazy about you.” I mumbled an embarrassed “Mm-hmm.” 5 The house fell silent, and then something clicked. Liam’s car had been in the parking lot for ages. Why wasn’t he up here yet? I called him. His voice on the other end sounded slightly annoyed. “The car’s AC filter is clogged. I’m just changing it. Sorry for the wait, you go ahead and eat.” “It’s fine, I’ll wait for you.” I hung up and double-checked the dining table for anything I might have missed. It looked like I’d forgotten contraception. I quickly dressed and headed to the convenience store. On my way back, to save time, I braved the dark parking lot shortcut. Passing a charging station, two figures locked in an embrace snagged my attention. Just as I was steeling myself to walk past, the driver’s side door of a car swung open. Someone grabbed my wrist, pulling me inside. My startled cry was stifled, caught in my throat by a hand. It was Sebastian Hayes! He hadn’t left yet! His pull was so sudden that I tumbled sideways, landing squarely in his lap. In the dim light, his features seemed even more intense. My heart hammered. I was about to struggle when his right hand suddenly gripped the back of my neck, pulling me closer. Caught off guard, I instinctively braced my hands against his chest, looking up in confusion. He gently lowered his head, resting his chin on my left shoulder, his voice a low, seductive whisper. “Don’t move. Look over there.” 6 The couple outside was leaning right against this car door. The woman’s gasps of pleasure punctuated the air. “…Mr. Davies, aren’t you going up yet? Your girlfriend made a whole dinner and is waiting for you to shower her with affection in her… flimsy lingerie.” Charlotte’s voice, laced with malice, exploded in my mind like a thunderclap. Liam scoffed. “Her? She’s so plain and rustic. She couldn’t hold a candle to even a single strand of your hair, no matter what she wears.” “You know I only have eyes for you.” “If you hadn’t wanted to spice things up with a little illicit thrill, why would I ever have bothered with her?” Charlotte drew circles on his chest. “Really? But I thought her skin was quite fair, and her figure rather plump. She looked quite tempting in that outfit, didn’t she?” Liam’s hand roamed, his voice teasing. “Sweetheart, you’re the only one who gets me going.” They kissed for a while longer, then straightened their clothes. “I’ll go up now, I promise I won’t touch her. Once she’s asleep, I’ll come find you.” “Tsk, as if I care.” “What if she finds out?” “A poor little orphan nobody, just throw her a bone and she’ll be begging for more. Who cares if she finds out? She’ll cry for a few days and then come crawling back, begging to make up, haha.” 7 The footsteps faded. My blood felt like ice, my breath caught in my throat, each gasp tearing at my lungs. Fury and sorrow crashed over me. Why? Why would they do this to me? Was I just a plaything for their twisted games, all for a cheap thrill? And those vile words… they came from them. The people who were supposed to be the most important in my life! Sebastian had lifted his head at some point. His fingers brushed my lips, his eyes, gleaming faintly, fixed on me. His tone held a hint of almost imperceptible pity. “Poor thing. Don’t bite your lip so hard, you’ll break the skin.” “I understand that feeling. Back then, I was with her for only a few days when I caught her being intimate with a junior student.” “That’s why I chose to break up and study abroad.” I was trembling, tears streaming down my face. “…Mr. Hayes, do you hate her?” He was silent for a moment, then gently squeezed the back of my neck, his gaze flickering. “Will you be with me? Even if it’s just for revenge, for now.” My hand, shaking slightly, retrieved the small packet from my coat pocket. I fought back the tears welling in my eyes. “Is an illicit affair really that exciting? I want to try it too.” His face darkened. I felt it again—the unmistakable pressure below me. This time, I didn’t flinch. Instead, I forced a smile. “Looks like I’m quite appealing to Charlotte’s fiancé too.” 8 Sebastian took me back to his place. It was the upscale villa Charlotte had always dreamed of living in. Even with all her pretense, I could tell she’d only been allowed here once. A storm of grief and the intoxicating rush of revenge surged through me. I worked tirelessly to ignite a fire in Sebastian, saying things I would never normally utter. “Mr. Hayes, don’t you want it? Why are you holding back?” “You had a reaction the first moment you saw me tonight, didn’t you?” Sebastian, clearly struggling, only kissed me again and again. He grasped my waist, pulling me off him. His eyes were flushed at the corners, but he buttoned his shirt with controlled restraint, still appearing the unapproachable, stoic CEO. “I’m going to shower. The first door on the left on the second floor is where you’ll be staying tonight.” Oh, Charlotte had mentioned it. Mr. Hayes was a clean freak. He must have been in agony being close to me just now. We were both working so hard for revenge against Charlotte. I self-mockingly wiped a damp hand across my face and walked over to the wall of expensive wines. Charlotte had once fantasized that when she married Sebastian and moved in, she’d drink the finest Lafite out of crystal glasses on the terrace, overlooking the breathtaking views of the city. “As for you,” she’d added, “you’ll be my maid, of course. You just look so suited for it, haha.” At the time, I thought she was joking. It turned out the truth was always hidden in her casual remarks. I opened the wine cabinet, not daring to touch the unaffordable bottles, and picked out the brandy from the furthest corner. She was so obsessed with this lifestyle, I simply had to try it for her. 9 By the time Sebastian emerged from the bathroom, I was utterly plastered. His dark eyelashes were still damp, even his pupils seemed misted over. “You’ve had too much to drink.” He pushed aside my hand as I tried to pour more, then inverted the glass. He frowned, assessing. “Even if you’re composed and sharp at work, you lose all reason when you’re drunk.” I propped my chin on my hand, completely unfazed, and hooked my arms around his neck. “Can we go to bed now?” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “You’re drunk.” I wasn’t listening. My left hand worked at his clothes, my right at mine. He truly couldn’t resist. He took a pair of silver handcuffs from a drawer and clasped them around my wrists. I mumbled, “An illicit affair and a little bondage play? Interesting.” But Sebastian, poker-faced, led me straight into the bathroom, giving me a bath without a single sidelong glance. Then, his face flushed, he carried me to bed. No matter how much I tried to tempt him, he remained as hard as rock, but unmoving. As he turned off the light and closed the door, he left me with a final instruction: “Get some rest. I’ll wake you up in the morning.” “…”

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1 The apocalypse descended, and my ability was [Mascot], allowing zombies around me to act like normal people. I was also the only tool that could keep Zombie Grandma quiet. My older sister and younger brother both had offensive abilities, but they always praised me. “Our Cici is the most capable. As long as you’re home, Grandma, who turned into a zombie, is like a docile cat, never biting anyone. That way, our family gets the institute’s family allowance.” Until the day before New Year’s Eve, the safe zone opened up four hundred spots for a holiday feast! Mom and Dad excitedly packed their bags, then slammed the steel security door shut. “There are only four tickets, Cici. You’re our family’s guardian angel; stay behind and watch Grandma.” “We’ll bring back some packed meat for you.” But they didn’t know. When the New Year’s Eve bell chimed, and they raised their glasses in celebration, I was already being torn apart, flesh and bone, my throat chewed to pieces by a starving Grandma. It turned out my ability only worked when my family was near me. … With a sharp “click” from the heavy steel security door, the last sliver of warm light that had seeped through the crack was completely cut off. I huddled in the corner of the sofa, my voice trembling, looking at the rocking chair opposite. “Grandma, be good, Cici is here.” A hunched figure sat in the rocking chair. Normally, as soon as I spoke, Grandma’s cloudy eyes would stir, then quietly close as she feigned sleep. Everyone in the family said I was a lucky one, having awakened the [Mascot] ability. Although I couldn’t conjure fireballs like my sister, nor slice stones thinly like my brother, I could keep my zombified Grandma rational, preventing her from biting or going mad, allowing her to be kept at home like an old cat. Because of this, the base made an exception, allowing our family to live in the slums with Zombie Grandma, not forcing us to clear her out. But today, something felt wrong. “Hoo, hoo…” The rocking chair stopped swaying. A strange sound, like a broken bellows being pulled, emanated from Grandma’s throat. She slowly turned her head. Her normally grayish-white yet calm pupils now glowed with an eerie blue light in the darkness, and blood vessels in her whites spread wildly like a spiderweb, instantly swallowing the last trace of humanity. Her shriveled mouth slowly opened, saliva mixed with some black, viscous fluid. A nauseating stench of decay instantly overpowered the faint musty smell in the room. “Grandma?” My heart lurched, and I instinctively tried to activate my ability. I desperately tried to conjure that “calming” feeling in my mind, just as I had countless times before, attempting to envelop Grandma’s brain with some invisible frequency. However, nothing happened. That sense of ability, which usually flowed like warm water, was now like stagnant water. No matter how much I screamed and tugged in my mind, it remained motionless. What’s going on? Why did it fail? Grandma’s withered fingers clamped onto the armrest, her nails lengthening and blackening at a visible speed, like ten sharp bone-scrapers. She stood up from the rocking chair. Her movements were no longer the slowness of an elder, but filled with a beast-like stiffness and explosive power. “I’m Cici! Grandma! I’m Cici!” I sprang up from the sofa in terror, backing into the corner. At that moment, my parents’ parting words flashed through my mind like lightning. “You’re our family’s guardian angel…” “As long as you’re home…” No. That’s not right. It’s not just “as long as I’m home.” Every time I’ve calmed Grandma before, my sister, my brother, or Mom and Dad, at least one of them was present. They disliked Grandma’s smell, always staying far away, but they were all under the same roof. Today, it was the first time. Within a five-hundred-meter radius, I was the only one. A flash of white light suddenly went off in my mind. There was no [Mascot] ability at all. The condition for the ability to work was the presence of a blood relative, forming some kind of magnetic resonance. I was the conductor, and my family was the power source. Now, the power was cut, escaping to the safe zone with the dream of braised pork and warmth. Only I, the discarded conductor, was left to face a monster that had been hungry for three years. “ROAR—!!!” Grandma let out a shrill roar, lunging at me. Her speed was like a black lightning bolt. I instinctively raised my arm to block. “Crunch.” Excruciating pain surged through me. The bone in my forearm was snapped clean, blood spurting like a fountain onto Grandma’s pale face. The smell of blood completely ignited her ferocity. Her hands, dry as tree bark, clamped onto my shoulders with astonishing strength, her nails digging deep into my flesh, pinning me to the floor. “Dad… Mom…” I cried out in despair, tears mixing with blood flowing into my mouth. Salty, bitter. Was this the taste of New Year’s Eve? Grandma didn’t give me any more time to think. She opened her mouth, almost torn to her ears, and bit down hard on my throat. “Gush.” The world went quiet. 2 It hurts. It hurts too much. But I couldn’t make a sound. The moment my windpipe was torn, air from my lungs, accompanied by bloody foam, gushed out, leaving me only able to make a “hissing” sound of leaking air. My vision began to blur; everything around me spun and turned red. I saw the family photo on the wall. It was taken before the apocalypse. Dad in a suit, Mom adorned with pearls, my sister and brother in pretty little dresses, smiling brightly. And I, wearing my sister’s hand-me-down school uniform, stood in the very corner, showing only half my face because the photographer said the composition was too crowded. That half-face was now facing me, being torn and bitten on the floor. Grandma was swallowing in large gulps. That was her granddaughter. It was Cici, who bathed her, fed her, and trimmed her nails every day. I wanted to push her away, but my limbs no longer obeyed, only twitching unconsciously on the cold floor like a dying fish. Before my consciousness completely plunged into darkness, I heard sounds from outside the window. “Boom—Crack!” Those were fireworks rising from the direction of the Eden Safe Zone. Even from dozens of kilometers away, I could see the dazzling light illuminating half the night sky. How beautiful. … I don’t know how much time passed. I felt my body become very light, very light. The agonizing pain disappeared, replaced by an utter emptiness and coldness. I floated up. Looking down. The floor was a mess, blood pooled and spread to the entrance. A small, incomplete, emaciated corpse lay there, a huge bloody hole in its neck, stark white bones exposed. And Grandma was squatting beside the corpse, her belly already bulging, her face covered in dark red bloodstains, extending her long tongue, still savoring the bits of flesh between her fingers. A mutated rat poked its head out of the sewer, its beady green eyes greedily staring at my corpse, attempting to come and get a share. “ROAR!” Grandma, in the midst of feeding, suddenly turned her head, letting out a fierce growl at the rat. She was protecting her food. Even after turning into a zombie, she instinctively guarded her “food.” How ironic. When I was alive, I was the most inconspicuous, invisible member of this family. After death, I became the “delicacy” Grandma fiercely protected. My heart was filled with sorrow. Just then, a strange pull came from outside the window. It was as if an invisible rope had tethered my soul. The other end of the rope was connected to the safe zone, to where my “family” was. Although my ability had failed, that “curse” which only activated in the presence of relatives seemed to have transformed into some kind of bond, forcefully pulling me towards them. Fine. If I couldn’t be a guest at the reunion dinner, then I’d be the ghost that ruined it. The safe zone truly lived up to its name. A massive dome shielded against the swirling snow. Four hundred lucky families were gathered, toasting and celebrating. I drifted, pulled by the invisible force, to a round table in the very center. Mom, Dad, my sister, my brother, all wearing the base’s newly issued white protective suits, looked like four bloated and happy silkworms. The hotpot in front of them bubbled warmly. And the moment I saw them, The void in my mind was finally filled. I finally completely understood what my ability truly was. …

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Five years after Mom and Dad died, my sister sent me to a reform school. She threw my luggage at me and screamed, “Daisy, if you like fighting so much, stay here. I’ll pick you up when you’ve learned your lesson.” Later, I was abducted and brutally beaten by my sister’s rival. My sister, on the phone, broke down. “Fight back! Why aren’t you fighting back?” My eyes vacant, I replied, “Because my sister said fighting makes a child naughty.” 1 My sister sat in the driver’s seat, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. “Daisy, after a year, you’ve become much quieter. It seems this reform school has worked wonders on you.” I sat perfectly straight in the back seat, my calm demeanor masking an underlying awkwardness and anxiety. “Sister, I won’t fight anymore.” My sister’s expression shifted, and she sneered. “You’d better keep your word, or I can always send you back to that school.” Hearing my sister threaten to send me back, I instinctively shuddered, trembling uncontrollably. That wasn’t a reform school; it was my hell, a paradise for devils. I silently nodded, indicating I would be obedient. This was the first time I hadn’t retorted to my sister’s words. She was pleased with my reaction, further convinced that sending me to the reform school had been the right decision. As soon as we walked into the house, my sister reached for my backpack. The moment her hand touched my shoulder, I instinctively stepped back, evading her touch. My face turned ashen. Meeting my sister’s surprised gaze, I quickly explained, “I’m sorry, Sister, I can manage it myself.” My sister lowered her hand, rolled her eyes at me, and muttered, “What’s with the little tantrum?” Seeing my sister turn away without asking further, I quietly breathed a sigh of relief. After unpacking my luggage in the room, the housekeeper, Auntie Chen, called me down for dinner. At the dining table, it was just my sister and me. There were ten dishes, all my favorites, specially prepared by my sister. I carefully picked food into my bowl, chewing slowly and deliberately. It had been a year since I’d eaten a proper meal. At the reform school, there was only steamed bread and pickled vegetables, and meat was a once-a-month rarity. Thinking of those days, tears involuntarily streamed down my face. My sister picked up a tissue, intending to wipe my tears. I instinctively raised my hand to block her, inadvertently exposing the scars on my arm. “Daisy, what are those injuries on your hand?” I quickly hid my hand behind my back, my face betraying an undeniable panic. “It was… it was an accident. I fell.” Under her probing gaze, a flicker of guilt crossed my face. I lowered my head, not daring to meet her eyes. I had indeed lied; the scars were from beatings at the school. But the teachers had warned us that if we dared to tell our families, they had plenty of ways to send us back. When I was first sent to the school, unable to endure the torment, I secretly called my sister, begging her to bring me home. But the next day, my sister didn’t come. Instead, I faced a nightmare I would never forget. That day, I was tied to a rack, repeatedly electrocuted until I lost control of my bladder and bowels. No matter how much I cried or pleaded, they wouldn’t stop, until I passed out. Before losing consciousness, a devilish voice echoed in my ear. “Daisy, do you think your sister will believe you, or the school?” Of course, my sister would only believe the school; after all, I was a naughty child. So I absolutely couldn’t tell my sister the truth. “Daisy, you still haven’t broken this bad habit of lying. I never thought that even after sending you to a reform school, you’d still get into fights.” My sister slammed her chopsticks on the table with a “bang,” looking at me with anger and disappointment. “I thought you had reformed, but you haven’t changed at all. You’re rotten to the core!” The dinner ended badly. 2 Back in my room, I sat on the bed, silently weeping as I looked at the family photo on the cabinet. That was the happiest time of my life. Back then, the four of us were still crammed into our small old house; Mom and Dad hadn’t yet expanded their business. Dad would pick my sister and me up from school every day, secretly buying us starch sausages. Mom always forced us to eat nasty vegetables, saying they were good for our health. Back then, my sister laughed a lot; she was everyone’s ray of sunshine, but after Mom and Dad passed away, I never saw my sister smile again. I don’t know how I fell asleep that night, but when I woke up, my pillow was soaked. The next morning, at exactly five o’clock, I was washed and dressed, appearing at the dining table. These were the school rules, deeply ingrained in my mind. Failure to comply meant a nightmarish torment. Even though I had left the school, I dared not disobey; it was a fear that came from the depths of my soul. Two hours later, my sister came downstairs in her business attire. When she saw me sitting rigidly at the dining table, she frowned. Auntie Chen, the housekeeper, told her I had been sitting there waiting for her since early morning, and she gave a knowing expression. Then she walked to my side, tapping her finger on the table, her voice unhurried. “Daisy, don’t think that playing innocent now will make me forgive you. After breakfast, I’m having the driver take you back to school.” My face instantly turned ashen, my voice trembling. “What… what school?” My sister sneered. “Of course, I’m sending you back to the reform school for correction, because you behaved poorly last night.” Hearing my sister’s words, nightmarish memories flooded my mind, and fear coiled in my heart. I abruptly stood up and screamed at her. “No, I won’t go! Serena, if you send me back, I’ll die!” “I’ll die, I’ll definitely die! Mom and Dad are already dead, are you trying to force me to die? Mom and Dad won’t forgive you!” With a sharp slap, my sister slapped me across the face. The stinging pain on my cheek brought me back to my senses. Realizing what I had said, I immediately knelt, grabbing my sister’s hand and apologizing. “I’m sorry, Sister, I didn’t mean it, I was wrong. Please don’t send me back, okay?” As expected, my sister’s face completely hardened. There wasn’t a trace of affection in her eyes, only profound disgust and indifference. My sister’s angry and disappointed voice rang above my head. “Daisy, you now have two choices: either go back to school and be properly reformed, or get out of this house. From now on, I’ll pretend I don’t have a sister.” I struggled internally for a long time, then finally stood up, giving my sister a deep look. “Sister, I’m leaving. Please take care of yourself.” My sister said nothing, merely showing an expression that said, “I knew it.” I went upstairs to my room to pack my clothes. Opening the closet, I casually pulled out a few seasonal items and stuffed them into my suitcase. Many of the clothes no longer fit; I had lost a lot of weight during my year at school, constantly hungry and cold, enduring both mental and physical torment. As I dragged my suitcase down the stairs, I heard my sister giving instructions to the housekeeper, Auntie Chen. “Auntie Chen, clear out everything in her room. From now on, the Hoopes family has no second daughter.” My foot, just stepping off the last stair, faltered. My heart felt as if it were being pricked by countless needles, a dense, throbbing pain. I walked to my sister’s side, my voice uncontrollably choked with sobs. “Sister, I’m really leaving.” My sister ignored me completely, eating her breakfast as if I were thin air. But just as I was about to walk out the door, my sister called out to me from behind. When I turned to look at her, full of expectation, her expression was cold. “Daisy, I’ve put some money in your bank account. Don’t ever appear in front of me again.” My sister was trying to draw a clear line between us. I held back the tears that threatened to fall, dragging my suitcase out the front door. This time, I walked very slowly, slow enough that if my sister called my name, I could immediately turn back home. Suddenly, footsteps sounded behind me. I instantly turned around. “Sister.” 3 It wasn’t my sister. Auntie Chen walked towards me, carrying a paper bag. “Daisy, Ms. Hoopes said you left these things behind.” Her eyes, as she looked at me, were full of pity. “It hasn’t been easy for Ms. Hoopes to shoulder the family business alone all these years. Don’t hate her. When she comes to her senses, she’ll bring you back.” I nodded silently. I had deliberately left those things behind, thinking I could use them as an excuse to come home and see my sister later. As sisters for nineteen years, we understood each other so well. She saw right through my little tricks. But she no longer wanted to play along. Once, when I was coming home from school, I got lost chasing a puppy into a complex, abandoned building. I sat on the ground, wailing. Mom and Dad were abroad on a business trip at the time and couldn’t reach my call. It was my sister who walked for several hours with a flashlight, alone, until she found me. She held me tightly then, comforting me. “Don’t be scared, little sister. Big sister will always be with you.” After that, whenever I called out for my sister, she would immediately appear before me. But now, she truly didn’t want me anymore. One hand held the bag, the other pulled my suitcase. Suddenly, the sky darkened, lightning flashed wildly, and a clap of thunder exploded in the sky. Then, dense raindrops began to fall. I stood in the rain, instantly soaked to the bone. The paper bag, under the assault of the rain, became fragile, and its contents tumbled to the ground, stained with mud. I knelt, no longer able to distinguish between tears and raindrops on my face. Picking up the items from the ground, I tossed them into a nearby trash can. Dirty things should be thrown away. Like me, discarded by my sister. Suppressing the bitterness in my heart, I hailed a taxi and left. I went back to our old house. It held happy memories of our family of four, so even after we earned money and moved into a villa, Mom and Dad hadn’t sold the old house; instead, they had someone maintain it regularly. I entered the password and pushed the door open. The password was my birthday. Inside, it was clean and tidy. I took a hot shower and immediately burrowed into the bed. The bedsheets seemed to still carry Mom’s scent, making me sleep soundly. My dreams were no longer filled with fear, no terrifying teacher’s face, no biting rats in the isolation room, no pain of sticks hitting my body. That afternoon, I was startled awake by the loud bang of a door closing. “Daisy, who told you to come back to the old house? This is my home; get out immediately!” My sister stood by my bed, her voice cold. Startled awake, my mind was still hazy. I touched my hot face; I was sick. I opened my mouth and found my throat hoarse; I couldn’t speak. Seeing me make no move, she became impatient, urging me. “Hurry up and pack your things and get out, don’t force me to throw you out.” I endured my physical discomfort, got up, changed clothes, and, carrying my unopened suitcase, walked to the door. Finally, I stopped, enduring the pain in my throat, and looked at my sister pleadingly. “Sister, I’m sick. Can I just stay here for one night? I’ll leave tomorrow.” My sister refused without a second thought. “No. Stop pretending. I won’t believe a word you say.” I dragged my suitcase and found a random motel, then took an over-the-counter fever reducer I bought downstairs. I drifted off into a hazy sleep. I lay in bed, sleeping for an entire day, my dreams filled with scenes of beatings. When I opened my eyes again, the evening sun was already setting. These past few days, I had holed up in the motel, ordering takeout when hungry, sleeping when tired. It took a whole week for me to gradually break free from the school’s brutal regimen. Every day, I constantly told myself that no one would ever beat or scold me without reason again; I was safe now. Just as I lay in bed zoning out, my phone chimed with a text message notification. “Daisy, I heard you’re back. Uncle’s birthday dinner tonight, are you free to come?” The sender was my paternal uncle from my hometown, the same man who had once threatened to ruin my sister’s reputation and seize our family’s assets, and whom I had beaten so badly he ended up in the hospital. I was about to ignore it. He immediately sent another text message, attaching an address. “Your sister will be there too.” He was threatening me. 4 That evening, I arrived on time for the dinner. Besides my uncle’s family and my sister, there were also some unfamiliar faces in the private room, likely my uncle’s questionable friends. My sister gave me a cold glance before turning to talk to my cousin, as if she didn’t know me. I quietly sat in a corner, head bowed, saying nothing. As dishes were successively served, my uncle spoke first. “Today is my birthday, so I tried to invite as many relatives as possible, especially Daisy. After a year, you’ve changed quite a lot, lost a good bit of weight.” With that, he burst into laughter, pointing to his son and teasing. “If I had known that reform school also had weight loss benefits, I would have sent your cousin there too.” My cousin immediately protested loudly. “I’m not going! That garbage school has already been exposed. The teachers there have all sorts of ways to make life hell. Only people like you would believe it. I’d rather die than go there!” My aunt quickly clapped her hand over my cousin’s mouth, her face apologetic. “I’m sorry, the child is ignorant and speaks nonsense.” My cousin pushed away my aunt’s hand, looking defiant. “What do you mean I’m speaking nonsense? Just look it up online on your phone, and you’ll know! Besides, hasn’t Daisy been there for a year? Wouldn’t asking her be clearer?” With that, he glanced at me again. “Look at her, it’s summer, and we’re all in shorts and T-shirts, but Daisy is wearing long sleeves and pants. She must be covered in scars from being beaten!” As soon as my cousin’s words fell, everyone’s gaze turned to me, some curious, some sympathetic, some disdainful. I kept my head down, biting my lower lip hard, not daring to speak. “Daisy, is what your cousin said true?” My sister suddenly spoke, her eyes fixed on my tightly clutched sleeve cuff. In my mind, that day’s scene suddenly replayed: I was dragged from my bed to the “treatment room” by a teacher; my legs were scratched and bleeding by the stones on the ground; my scalp was painfully pulled. Yet, these were just the beginning of the nightmare. I was bound by ropes to a torture device, the teacher tore off my clothes, and then came repeated electric shocks. Every time I fainted, I would be splashed awake with cold water, over and over again. “No, the teacher didn’t hit me, didn’t hit me.” I shook my head frantically, immediately denying it. Those memories terrified me, making me tremble uncontrollably. My appearance scared everyone in the private room. My sister quickly walked towards me, forcefully pulled open my sleeve, revealing scars large and small, crawling all over my arms like centipedes, some of which had only recently scabbed over. “What is this?” My sister’s eyes instantly welled with tears, her hands trembling as she tried to touch my scars, afraid of hurting me. “Daisy, why is this happening?” Actually, I also wanted to know why it had come to this. My sister used to love me. When Mom and Dad were still alive, my sister was very kind to me; back then, she was the best sister in the world to me. After the family business grew, Mom and Dad became increasingly busy, spending less and less time at home. My sister began to take on the responsibility of looking after me. I also became more and more dependent on my sister. Later, my sister went away to college, and the distance between us changed from zero to fifteen hundred kilometers. On my birthday, I sat in front of the cake, crying inconsolably; the housekeeper couldn’t comfort me. My sister suddenly appeared before me, carrying a giant teddy bear, and smiled as she playfully flicked my nose. “My little crybaby, I heard your crying before I even stepped through the door. Big sister promised to celebrate every birthday with you, so I certainly wouldn’t break my word.” She placed the doll on the chair beside me, then opened her suitcase filled with gifts, taking them out one by one and arranging them before me. “This is our little princess’s favorite pink hair clip, this is the new game console, this is a matching outfit just like big sister’s, this is…” In my eyes, my sister was like a magical fairy, always able to conjure up many treasures I loved. She wiped away my tears, relit the candles, and told me to make a wish. I closed my eyes, greedily making many wishes. “To be happy and together with my sister forever, never to be separated for a lifetime.” “I hope my sister will always love only me, and not like anyone else.” “I want to be my sister’s sister in my next life, and the life after that.” …I only opened my eyes and blew them out when the candles were almost completely melted.

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My best friend and my boyfriend were sworn enemies, yet they became lovers in a game. Everyone thought they’d back out. But my best friend, Lyra, snatched up the wager, her voice brimming with challenge: “What’s wrong, Jim Voldemort? Scared to play now?” “King’s game: whoever breaks up first loses. I advise you to surrender gracefully and call me ‘Dad’ the next time we meet!” Jim Voldemort was so furious he gritted his teeth, adamantly refusing to be the first to break up. They fought from campus to the corporate world. To up the ante, they even adopted a child. From then on, he played the devoted husband, she played the loving mother. And I, Eleanor Vance, had a secret decade-long relationship with Jim Voldemort. Lyra’s mother, unaware of the truth, Still urged them to get married at this year’s New Year’s Eve dinner. “How can parents of a middle schooler not be legally recognized as a family unit?” Lyra skillfully pushed me forward as a shield: “If I get married, what about Eleanor?” Jim chimed in too: “Yes, we can’t bear to leave Eleanor all alone.” They were as in sync as a real married couple. I opened my phone and smiled. “Then you can rest easy.” “My mother has picked eighteen fiancés for me; they’re lining up for me to choose.” This time, Jim’s face completely darkened. 1 In front of them, I directly interviewed those eighteen men. “This young wolf-cub is good; I’ve been into younger men lately.” “That icy guy was decent too; he looks like he’d be caring.” “And…” Only my comments echoed through the private room. Jim Voldemort’s presence was terrifyingly low, his face hinting at a coming storm. My best friend, Lyra Quinn, hugged him tightly, whispering a warning: “Jim, if you dare to mention anything about the game now, I’ll consider you to have completely surrendered.” “My mother has a weak heart; don’t go crazy in front of her!” Lyra, afraid he might actually act rashly, hugged him so tightly it looked like she wanted to break his waist. Jim’s chest heaved, and he unconsciously hooked Lyra’s little finger. This was his little gesture when he was being soothed. Lyra’s mother smiled, watching their intimate interaction. I twitched the corner of my mouth, my throat bitter. It’s laughable, really. These two: one was my secret boyfriend, the other my confidante. They sat on one side, and I sat opposite. Together, we formed a stable triangle. Much like our relationship over these years. On the way home, all three of us were silent. I opened the back door, leaving the passenger seat for Lyra. She paused, then instinctively said: “Alfie has tutoring today, we don’t need to pick him up so early.” I smiled, “It’s fine, I’m used to it.” Alfie was the child Jim and Lyra adopted. He had just started middle school this year and didn’t know his adoptive parents were actually a fake couple. Whenever he was around, they would act as if they were madly in love. The passenger seat, once exclusively mine, was gradually given to Lyra. The glove compartment sometimes held her lipstick and perfume, sometimes Alfie’s toys and homework. My belongings, however, were nowhere to be found. When Lyra first started playing the role of a respectful partner with Jim, she would still hug the toilet, vomiting profusely. Her eyes teary, she’d look at me: “Eleanor, what did you ever see in that dog, Jim?” “Just holding his hand once, I’d want to scrub it eight hundred times with disinfectant.” Jim wouldn’t be outdone. Knowing Lyra hated him for “stealing” me, he’d deliberately pick me up and sit me on his lap during meals, refusing to let me down, just to spite her. It would make Lyra stomp her feet in anger. In those years, the love was real, and the hatred was real. It’s the same now. I pushed Lyra into the passenger seat, saying blandly: “Don’t worry about me. I’m used to sitting in the back now.” No matter how much you dislike something, after doing it a thousand times, you get used to it. Jim frowned, looking a little helpless. “Eleanor, there’s no need to intentionally provoke me by putting on such a show with eighteen different men.” “You know I detest her, and she detests me too.” “There’s really nothing between us.” Lyra quickly nodded. “That’s right, Jim will definitely marry you in the end.” “Besides, didn’t you say you didn’t want to rush into the grave of marriage?” Having acted for so many years, even their expressions of urgency were becoming increasingly similar. They truly looked like a married couple. I climbed into the back seat, looking at the passing scenery outside the window. “Lyra, I said that when I was twenty-three.” “I’m thirty-three now, long past the age of youthful bravado.” Jim’s breath hitched, the veins on his hands, gripping the steering wheel, bulging. “What about me?” His voice was strained, his eyes gradually reddening. “Does someone you loved at twenty-three stop loving you at thirty-three?” 2 I couldn’t answer. So I pretended not to hear. Just as I always pretended not to have witnessed their kiss in the snow a month ago. It was Alfie’s birthday party, and many people were invited to celebrate. In broad daylight, the two of them started arguing about his tutoring class. They’d had some wine, and they started brawling like children. Alfie was terrified and cried uncontrollably. I quickly picked him up and left. After finally calming the child, when I went to the garden to find them, I saw a drunken Jim pinning Lyra down, forcefully kissing her lips despite her struggles. Lyra trembled, then slapped him hard. “Jim Voldemort, look at me and see who I am!” “I’m not Eleanor!” She tried her best to restrain herself, but her voice still carried an uncontrollable sob. Jim stumbled to the ground, his fingers buried deep in his hair. “I know… How could I mistake the two of you?” They looked at each other, their eyes filled with pain, regret, loss… and a hint of undeniable passion. Tears streamed from Lyra’s eyes without warning. She suddenly lunged forward, hugging Jim tightly. Her voice was muffled and desperate: “…Today doesn’t count.” “We were both drunk, so whatever happened, it doesn’t count as betrayal.” Jim fiercely hugged her back, kissing her passionately. I hid in the corner, my hands and feet freezing. Snowflakes landed on my eyelashes, melting into tears that streamed down. At this moment, I also wanted to ask Jim. Would someone you didn’t love at twenty-three be loved at thirty-three? The tangled fate between the three of us dates back a long time. My personality was gentle and timid; I spoke softly. Lyra, however, was domineering and strong, her word was law. Jim liked me the most, so he detested Lyra, who was my opposite. Yet, they were both exceptionally good-looking, academically excellent, and childhood friends. No matter which school they were in, they were a popular, love-hate pairing. However, Lyra strongly disliked being forcibly paired with him, complaining more than once about their blind classmates. Jim, though he didn’t speak, clearly drew boundaries with his actions. I wasn’t mediocre, but among them, I appeared overly unremarkable. At first glance, it seemed like two prominent figures and their little follower. Therefore, when Jim first confessed to me at seventeen, my immediate reaction was disbelief. “Did you lose a game of Truth or Dare?” Jim’s face twisted for a moment, then he walked away in a huff. But from then on, he would stand by our classroom door every day with a flower, publicly declaring his love. Lyra was furious, stomping her feet. Every time she saw him, she couldn’t resist hitting Jim in the face. It wasn’t until I accepted his confession that they finally calmed down. Lyra, while being annoyed, helped us cover up. Later, in college, Lyra changed boyfriends every week, and the annoyed person became Jim. From ideologies to preferences, they had nothing in common. Until the graduation banquet, when that seemingly joking King’s Game emerged. The classmate who drew the King’s card truly had no ill intentions; initially, they just designated Jim and Lyra to be a couple for a week. Like everyone else, I thought one of them would quickly give up and concede. But no one anticipated that they would become competitive, just like when they were children. They held their noses and went on dates, went shopping, performing their deep affection for everyone. A week passed. A month passed. A year passed. Ten years passed. They were still competing. Those in the know started a betting pool on when they would break up. Those unaware praised Mr. Voldemort and Miss Quinn’s deep devotion. And I, just like in my youth, was always overshadowed by their brilliance. No one remembered that Jim and I had a history. 3 A silence filled the car. Jim first dropped Lyra at her house. Without her, Jim and I had even less to talk about. After adopting Alfie, our conversations often revolved around the child. Jim complained that Lyra, a first-time mother, had no idea how to care for a child. Lyra grumbled that Jim was always away, leaving her to raise the child alone. They were still at odds, as always, but to outsiders, it was just minor marital disagreements. I held the title of godmother, but I was a true outsider. Alfie only liked his mom and dad; he didn’t like me. He even thought I was the third wheel in their family. Thinking about it carefully, the rift between us actually appeared very early. From the moment Jim forgot my birthday because of a parent-teacher meeting. From the moment Jim suggested we no longer celebrate our anniversary. From the moment Jim said we needed to be more reserved in front of Alfie. Those cracks were silent, he didn’t notice them, and I couldn’t articulate them. The silence was driving him mad. Back home, Jim impatiently pressed me against the wall. A torrent of kisses rained down. In the throes of passion, I suddenly caught a familiar scent. It was Lyra’s usual perfume. Very faint, but with a strong presence. Just like her. I suddenly felt a wave of nausea, struggled to push him away, And rushed to the bathroom, clutching the toilet, vomiting. Jim’s face went pale. “Eleanor, what did I do wrong?” “You know that everything with Lyra in front of others is just an act.” “I’ve loved you since we were kids.” I couldn’t answer; the severe dehydration made me dizzy. In fact, ever since I caught them kissing, I became suspicious and paranoid. For a while, I even followed Jim. But as Lyra said, they were both drunk that day, and whatever happened was an accident. So it didn’t count as betrayal. I never caught them being intimate again either. But the thorn between us was already there. Every time I saw them together, I couldn’t help but recall that scene. Every day that followed was like being slowly cut by a dull knife. Jim, confused by my coldness, also felt very wronged. But before he could find an answer, Alfie’s school enrollment issues consumed all his attention. So, anything about me was put aside again. Jim saw how sick I was and didn’t press further. We lay on the same bed, he holding me, his fingers unconsciously tapping my arm. When I had nightmares as a child, he would comfort me just like this. Gently, disturbing no one. But how did we end up like this now? Tears silently streamed down, unnoticed by Jim. In the middle of the night, a sharp pain suddenly gripped my abdomen. I nudged Jim awake, my face ashen. “I think I have acute gastroenteritis again.” Jim woke up in a fright, running five red lights on the way, rushing me straight to the hospital. But just at the last intersection, Lyra’s call suddenly came in. “Jim, Alfie seems to be in shock from a fever, what should I do?” Jim slammed on the brakes. I was resting in the back seat and was thrown to the floor. I was in too much pain to speak, only hearing Lyra’s voice, anxious with a hint of a sob. After a while, Jim carried me to the ground outside. “Eleanor, I’ve called you a cab; it’ll be here soon if you wait here.” With that, he hurriedly drove off. In his haste, he almost hit a railing. I watched him leave. In these past few years, it seemed I was always watching his back. But before the driver arrived, I lost consciousness and fainted.

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I was the real young master who was swapped at birth. The night I came home, my mother pointed to a red and black spinning wheel and said, “Spin red, and you can make a request. Spin black, and you obediently follow the rules.” I thought I finally had a home. But for three whole years, my younger brother always landed on red, and I always on black. All the cool toys and the sunny room went to him. Even when I was sick and bedridden, wanting a sip of water, I had to wait for his cartoons to finish. On New Year’s Eve, burning with a fever of forty degrees Celsius, I coughed blood, begging my mother to take me to the hospital. “Old rules,” she said, pulling out the spinning wheel again. I desperately exerted all my strength, secretly pressing my finger against the back of the wheel. For the first time, the pointer slid towards red. My eldest sister grabbed me. “Ethan! Even if your luck is terrible, you can’t cheat!” My second sister pushed me to the ground. “You’d actually cheat just to make us stay with you? How disgusting.” My third sister broke my finger. “You broke the rules, so you pay the price.” They threw me onto the floor and slammed the door shut. My vision blurred with tears as I stared at my twisted, deformed finger. I’m sorry. In my next life, I’ll… try hard to land on red. … 1 The piercing cold and pain suddenly vanished. I felt very light, floating upwards. Looking down, I saw a small, curled-up figure on the floor. Dressed in faded, old pajamas—the ones Liam didn’t want, because the spinning wheel was black, so I was only fit to wear hand-me-downs. My right index finger was bent at an unnatural angle, and my cheeks were flushed with a sickly red. That was me. Thirteen-year-old Ethan, no longer breathing. I suddenly remembered three years ago, when I was first brought home. Mom took out the spinning wheel, her voice clear and calm: “Ethan, you’re my biological child, of course I love you. But Liam has also been with us for ten years, and our feelings for him are just as deep. It’s not right for me to favor either of you. So, for absolute fairness, we’ll use this spinning wheel to decide all family matters from now on. It’s all up to luck, no one gets a raw deal, okay?” A fifty-fifty chance. It sounded so easy. I nodded vigorously, full of hope and anticipation. But Lady Luck never smiled upon me, not once. I don’t know how long passed before I heard laughter and chatter outside the door. “The lobster at that hotel was good, but it’s so far.” “Liam loves lobster, so it’s worth the distance.” Mom’s voice was full of indulgence. “Oh, and that new limited-edition pair of sneakers you wanted? I got them. I’ll give them to you tomorrow.” “What about my final exam reward?” Liam’s voice was bright. “You won’t miss out. An amusement park annual pass plus a rare Lego set, is that enough?” “Enough! Mom’s the best!” Floating above, my chest ached with an empty soreness. Lobster, limited-edition sneakers, amusement park, Lego. Everything Liam wanted, he always got with ease. And me? Two years ago, my head was splitting, and I wanted to ask for time off to go to the hospital. It landed on black. My eldest sister sneered, “Such a small ailment and you’re being dramatic? Liam scraped his knee until it bled last time, but he still insisted on going to the city for the math competition and won an award.” Later. My backpack broke, and I wanted twenty dollars for a new one. It landed on black again. My second sister scoffed, “A forty-dollar backpack only lasts two years? Take a look at Liam’s Hermes backpack; it’s been three years and it’s still like new! You’re just cheap, you don’t know how to take care of things!” But the more times I landed on black, the more I lost. The cool toys, the sunny room—they all went to Liam. Even when I was sick and bedridden, wanting a sip of water, I had to wait for his cartoons to finish. After countless frustrations, I stopped hoping. I even started to avoid, to fear seeing that spinning wheel. Until Grandma Willow, who raised me in the countryside, passed away. I finally mustered the courage: “Mom, can I go back…” Before I finished speaking, my third sister excitedly waved her phone. “Mom! Look, Liam won first prize in the math competition, it’s such wonderful news!” Mom’s expression of impatience instantly gave way to pure joy. “My sweet boy makes Mom so proud! What reward do you want? Mom will grant anything!” Dad also smiled: “We should definitely celebrate.” I stood rooted to the spot, my throat tight: “But Grandma Willow, she…” “Enough!” Mom’s face hardened. “On such a good day, why bring up dead people? It’s bad luck!” My second sister immediately brought the spinning wheel. “No more nonsense. Spin red, and you can go.” I shut my mouth. That night, I kowtowed three times towards the countryside, bidding farewell to Grandma, crying and saying I was sorry. I stood before the spinning wheel until midnight. Eventually, I didn’t spin it. Because I knew the outcome would surely be black. “Bang—” Just then, the door was pushed open. 2 Mother and son walked in, wearing matching cashmere coats. Liam had a dazzling diamond watch on his wrist—the welcome gift my grandmother had given me when I first came home. Because the spinning wheel landed on black, Mom said, “You don’t deserve to wear such an expensive watch,” so it ended up on Liam’s wrist. Liam squatted, holding up the hem of his coat, his voice innocent: “The floor is so dirty… Why is big brother still lying here?” My eldest sister frowned: “Country folks are just like that. When they’re tired, they just lie anywhere, regardless of whether it’s clean or not.” My third sister drawled in agreement: “That’s why, even if Liam isn’t our biological brother, he has an innate nobility. And some people, their genes can’t change that inherent peasant air about them.” Liam curiously touched my face, but then abruptly pulled his hand back. He gasped, “Mom! Big brother’s face… it’s colder than ice!” Mom’s movements, as she was taking off her coat, paused. Oddly. I vaguely felt a flicker of anticipation. I wondered, what would their reactions be when they discovered I was dead? Mom walked over, first noticing my twisted finger. Her expression momentarily faltered in shock: “His finger… how did it get so bent?” My third sister leaned against the entryway, speaking with an air of nonchalance: “I broke it.” Mom glared at her, with a hint of anger: “You really don’t know your own strength, he’s still your brother, after all!” I floated in the air, staring at her blankly. My heart felt warm. I knew it, Mom still loved me. But it didn’t matter anymore; I couldn’t feel the pain. My third sister lifted her chin: “Mom, you personally set the rules: cheating must be punished. Liam remembers it and has always obeyed it strictly. Is it really fair to him if you indulge Ethan?” Mom’s lips twitched, and she first turned to look at Liam. The little boy bit his lip, his eyes slightly red, like a startled rabbit. In that instant, her voice softened: “Alright, next time, remember not to do it in front of Liam. He’s timid.” That flicker of emotion, sparked by me, was like a stone tossed into a deep pond, stirring only a negligible ripple. Mom reached out, not to check my breathing. Instead, she poked my shoulder in disgust: “Ethan, get up.” “Playing dead, are you?” she kicked my shoulder with the tip of her high heel. “Just to skip dinner, just to make us feel guilty, you come up with endless tricks! You’ll stoop to any low.” My second sister picked up a glass from the coffee table, her wrist flicking. Scalding water splashed across half my face. “Are you awake now? Can you stop using such cheap tricks to get attention?” Water droplets rolled down my temples and into my collar, yet my eyelashes didn’t even flutter. Liam retreated half a step, timidly saying, “Mom. I feel like big brother… really isn’t quite right.” To soothe Liam’s hurt feelings. My second sister patted his back and placed an exquisite gift box in his arms. “Sweet Liam, I know you have a kind heart, but some people are just born to play the victim and aren’t worth pity.” Mom ruffled Liam’s hair: “The more attention you give him, the worse he’ll get next time. Playing dead today, he’ll try to hang himself tomorrow. He just wants to use these methods to force us to apologize.” My third sister scoffed in agreement: “This afternoon, he was kicking up a fuss about going to the hospital, and now he’s just lying here like a corpse. Besides causing trouble for the family and ruining the atmosphere, what else is he good for?” Perhaps wanting to end this charade quickly. Mom squatted down, pinching my philtrum hard. Until my lips turned white, I remained motionless. She completely lost patience. Raising her hand, she slapped me across the face. 3 “If I had known you were so stubborn and vicious, I wouldn’t have been soft-hearted enough to bring you back!” Just then, Liam’s clear voice drifted from upstairs: “Mom, look, do my new clothes Big Sister bought me look good?” The voice was like magic. Mom’s anger instantly melted like snow. “Sweetheart, Mom’s coming right now.” After a few steps, she suddenly turned back and dragged me up from the floor. “Ethan, listen to me clearly! In this family, Liam came first, then you. Blood ties mean nothing! Don’t think that just because you’re my biological son, you can do whatever you want.” My head lolled back powerlessly, eyes half-open, pupils unfocused and lifeless, staring directly at the ceiling. She stared into my vacant pupils, as if trying to discern submission and fear. But I was dead; I couldn’t offer any reaction. This seemed to enrage Mom. She grabbed my collar, warning me fiercely: “Know your place! If you dare to harbor any crooked thoughts and compete with Liam again… then get back to the countryside where you belong!” She let go. My head, losing its support, hit the ground with a dull thud. She didn’t look back, her high heels clacking as she ascended the stairs. My second sister kicked me: “It’s New Year’s, who are you putting on this dead act for? That’s enough.” My third sister smiled, pulled out her phone, and pressed the shutter button. “A souvenir. Next time you pretend, I’ll let everyone see what kind of character the real young master of the Park family is in private.” Finally, it was my eldest sister. She stood there, watching me for a long time, so long that I thought she would discover something. Ultimately, she sighed. She reluctantly dragged me back to my room and threw me onto the bed. As she left, she stood at the doorway and spoke, as if bestowing a favor: “Ethan, if your finger truly hurts too much to bear, come find me, but don’t alarm Liam. I can take you to the hospital without going through the spinning wheel. However, the medical expenses will be deducted from your living allowance next month. You caused the trouble, so you bear the consequences. Understand?” I answered again and again: “Big sister, thank you, but I’m already dead, I don’t need to go to the hospital…” But she would never hear me. The door closed. Outside, fireworks burst, firecrackers cracked, full of festive cheer. Next door, a family celebrated joyfully, laughing heartily, full of life. Only I, floating alone in the air, was dead and nobody knew. I’m sorry. I whispered in my heart to the thirteen-year-old me who, three years ago, first walked into this house, looked up at the crystal chandelier, and thought he had finally found a home. See? Liam is the best, most obedient son. And I, even though I’m biological. In their hearts, I’m nothing more than a stranger with the title of “real young master.” 4 The next morning, Dad walked through the door, travel-worn. He spent years abroad expanding overseas business, only returning for holidays. In his hands, he carried two gift boxes, one large and one small. “Daddy!” Liam pounced into his arms like a joyful butterfly. “What good things did you bring me this time?” Dad chuckled, ruffling his hair, his gaze sweeping the living room. “Where’s Ethan? Why didn’t he come out to get my slippers this time?” Mom, brewing tea, paused her movements. “He just had to argue with Liam on New Year’s, and after I scolded him a bit yesterday, he’s probably sulking in his room now.” Dad frowned, but didn’t ask further. He pointed to the two gift boxes. “Brought the kids New Year’s gifts. The big one is Lego’s new limited-edition sports car set; it took a lot of connections to get. The small one… is just a souvenir keychain I picked up at the airport.” A Lego sports car worth thousands, and a keychain worth maybe five dollars. The disparity was comically vast. “Daddy! This one’s for me, right?” Liam pounced on the ornate large gift box. Dad gently admonished, “Liam, don’t be naughty. You know, our family has always valued fairness.” Immediately, he solemnly took out the spinning wheel and placed it on the coffee table. “Same old rules. Spin red, take the big one. Spin black, take the small one.” Mom raised her voice, yelling towards my room, “Doesn’t someone always whine about us being unfair? If you don’t come spin the wheel, then I’ll let your brother spin it, and don’t you dare come crying later, saying the whole family ganged up on you!” “I’ll spin! I’ll spin! The result is always the same anyway.” Liam gleefully ran over. He flicked his finger, and the pointer began to spin. Dad watched with a smile, Mom with doting eyes, and my sisters with an air of “of course.” Only I, floating in the air, was so anxious that big tears streamed down my face—I was indeed just as Mom said, both naughty and stubborn, even in death, still fantasizing about landing on red just once. I lay on the edge of the spinning wheel, unwilling, trying to flick it with my hand, blowing on it with all my might. Perhaps heaven took pity on me, for the pointer slowed down, trembling as it approached black… Then, it stopped. The living room was silent for a moment. I froze, then erupted in wild joy, jumping up and down excitedly—Oh my god! This time, red was finally mine! But I was already dead, and it would be a shame for such an expensive sports car toy to be buried with me. It should still go to Liam. I thought to myself. It seems I really was just unlucky; had I misunderstood them? Perhaps they had never been biased after all. Mom suddenly picked up Liam’s wrist to examine it, then gasped in surprise: “No wonder! Sweet Liam, where’s the magnet on your bracelet? It’s gone!” I felt as if struck by a bolt of lightning. A magnet? So, Liam’s bracelet… had a magnet hidden inside? Three whole years, over a thousand times landing on black. I had knelt countless times, praying, secretly practicing in the dead of night, believing I was destined for a wretched life, that the gods disdained me, that I was unworthy of even a shred of favoritism… “…I don’t know.” Liam pouted, looking aggrieved. “Dad, big brother isn’t here anyway, so… can we just not count this one?” Dad’s expression turned somewhat troubled. Just then, my sisters exchanged glances. My eldest sister immediately understood, walked over, and with a gentle flick, the pointer landed steadily in the red zone. “See? It’s clearly red.” My eldest sister’s tone was flat. “Oh yeah!” Liam cheered, “Thanks, Dad! Thanks, Big Sister!” Dad smiled and nodded: “It seems the gods still favor our Liam.” Mom also smiled: “Yes, Liam has always been lucky.” The family was harmonious and joyful, as if that small “accident” had never happened. A tremendous sense of desolation and absurdity swallowed me whole. So, in this family. Not only were the rules flexible, but even luck could be manual. After dinner, my third sister lost a game, and her punishment was to take food to my room. She stood up, her face filled with disgust, “I’m not going! It’s bad luck.” Liam pouted and whined, “A bet’s a bet, big sister.” My second sister immediately frowned, “Go quickly and come back. Would you really spoil Liam’s fun for that annoying ghost?” My third sister irritably got up, “Tsk… So damn annoying.” Two minutes later, she dumped a bowl of leftovers by my bedside. “Hey, stop faking it! That’s enough.” I lay motionless on the bed. She kicked the bed frame. “Ethan, I’m talking to you, are you deaf?” “Fine, you’ve got guts. Don’t eat, then. Starve to death.” She angrily dumped the food into the trash can. “Sister! I’m not pretending! I’m really dead! Look at my face, look at my hand!” I floated in front of my third sister, waving my hands frantically, trying to get her attention. My third sister seemed to sense something, pausing her steps. Her gaze fell on my pale face and purplish-blue lips. In that instant, my heart leaped into my throat. Was she about to find out? Was she finally… going to see me?

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When the Everdeen family went bankrupt, I fled from debt, working three jobs a day, barely eating or sleeping, yet still being beaten by creditors. After a phone call, I returned to Kyoto. But it was right when Adrian Collins was about to get engaged. Everyone thought I hadn’t given up on Adrian and was back to ruin his engagement with Clara Thorne. “Eleanor, you still haven’t given up?” “Adrian never liked you; he’s always loved Clara.” The warnings, the unprovoked beatings, I could barely catch my breath. And Adrian Collins, the man I once loved beyond measure, merely watched it all, his eyes burning with hatred for me. I sneered, wiping the blood from the corner of my mouth. “You’re overthinking it. Not long ago, a mystic told me I’m a lone star, destined for no marriage.” His hand, however, trembled slightly. 1 The train arrived in Kyoto. Stepping out of the station, I immediately saw the tall, imposing figure of Adrian Collins beside a Maybach. He looked impatient waiting. I walked over. “Adrian.” The handsome man paused, surprised. I lowered my head, clenching my hands. I knew he hadn’t expected the thin, impoverished-looking person before him to be Eleanor Everdeen, once the young lady of the Everdeen family. Facing his cold gaze, I forced a smile. “Are you really… Eleanor,” Then, he impatiently corrected himself. “Taking a train instead of flying.” After we got in the car, the compartment remained quiet. He drove in the front. I sat in the back. Three years ago, I used to talk a lot, constantly wanting to be around him. He always wore a cold expression. He disliked me greatly. Now, I rarely speak. Given the chance, I’d rather just curl up and sleep for a while. The car was clean and spacious. In the passenger seat, there was a tiny, small plush toy tucked away. I turned to look out the window. If I wasn’t mistaken, that seat now exclusively belonged to his fiancée, Clara Thorne. When I first got in the car, I had intended to sit in the passenger seat, but realizing my mistake, I immediately retracted my hand. 2 I pursed my lips tightly. I don’t know when it started, but I was always afraid, so afraid that even my own breathing felt like it might disturb someone. “Don’t you have anything to ask?” I turned my head, meeting Adrian’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “I…” Ask what? I really don’t seem to have anything to ask, or rather, I’m not interested in anything anymore. “Adrian…” He immediately cut me off. “Just call me by my name. We’re not that close. You’re only back because Grandma is seriously ill and wants to see you. Don’t try to claim kinship.” My lips froze in mid-air. Soon, though, I nodded. “Is Grandma Collins very ill?” He didn’t answer, but his expression tightened a little, the meaning clear. I clenched my hands, wondering, are all the people who genuinely cared for me in this world leaving? 3 When I arrived, Grandma Collins was in a deep sleep. I sat beside her, numerous machines attached to her. I held her hand, warming it with my body heat. She finally showed a slight reaction, gently squeezing my hand back. “Grandma Collins.” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “Butler, take her to wash up first.” After being on the train for over thirty hours, Adrian was clearly tired of seeing me like this. Looking at the spacious bathtub, I lost myself in thought. “Miss Everdeen, you can take off your clothes now.” I was startled. “Aunt Sarah, please step out for a moment.” The memory felt distant. Aunt Sarah was good at scrubbing backs; as a child, I often pestered her to help me. She closed the door behind her. My hand, reaching to remove my clothes, paused. “Young Master, Miss Everdeen said she’d wash herself, no need for me to scrub her back.” “Hmph, keep an eye on her. She looks like she crawled out of a mud pit.” I was stunned for two seconds. I took off my clothes. The mirror immediately revealed the crisscrossing scars on my body. My hand slowly moved down, resting on my waist, on the centipede-like knife scar. It still hurt a lot. After all, a forced liver transplant had been performed here. A shabby clinic. So much pain. So much pain. 4 After washing, I walked out, almost colliding with Adrian. I quickly stepped back and looked up. He looked down with cold eyes. “Don’t you have any better clothes? Eleanor, are you deliberately dressing so shabbily so Grandma will pity you when she wakes up?” I was momentarily dazed. “Sorry, I didn’t bring any better clothes, but these are very clean.” Aunt Sarah was surprised. “These clothes don’t look too big, Miss Everdeen. How do they look so oversized on you?” I looked up. Adrian also watched me coldly. I smiled. “I overdid my diet a bit. I’ll regain the weight in a few days.” Aunt Sarah was astonished: “Dieting, you mean?” Just then, Adrian’s phone rang. He took it out. We both glimpsed the caller ID: Clara. A gaze instantly fell on me. Adrian had already answered. “Adrian, do you want to have dinner together tomorrow night?” “Tomorrow night, fine.” I stepped out, heading down the hallway. Only a few sconces were lit, the light not very bright. Standing there, however, I felt more at ease. Once upon a time, I preferred dimmer places to bright ones, as if I could hide myself, remain unnoticed. Inside the bedroom, the call wasn’t over yet. Compared to how he used to barely answer my calls, or how cold he was when he did, Adrian was completely different with Clara Thorne. But all these things happened three years ago, and still, whenever I think of them, I feel a chill run through me. I didn’t understand. Three years ago, I was desperate, my head bleeding, yet he refused to even temporarily take me in at the Collins family home. With my father’s nearly ten million in debt, I was pushed into an endless abyss. Unable to live, unable to die. 5 Adrian walked out. Our eyes met. His gaze pierced through me. “Ever since you came back, you seem to be heavily preoccupied. Are you really planning something, incapable of changing your ways?” “What?” I completely didn’t understand what he was talking about. “You’re overthinking it. I’m just wondering which room I’ll be sleeping in tonight.” “Indeed, you’ll never change. If I can’t see through a liar like you, then I don’t deserve to be the CEO of Collins Group.” His eyes were fiercely intense, capable of seeing through everything. I took a step back. “Adrian, can I still call you Adrian? I don’t mean anything else; I just feel it’s a respectful way to address you.” “And I hope you can rest assured, whatever I might be thinking, it has nothing to do with you, nor will I yearn for what I shouldn’t.” He closed in on me, grabbing my throat. “Is that so? You used to be very good with your words, only to turn around and cause trouble for Clara.” “Eleanor, you’re the most two-faced person I’ve ever met.” I struggled to breathe, falling into extreme agony. I was only released when my eyes rolled back. “Cough…” I leaned against the wall, watching him with red-rimmed eyes, wanting to say, did you really investigate? But what came out was merely. “Perhaps I should stay elsewhere. I’ll come see Grandma tomorrow.” I leaned against the wall, heading downstairs, my legs weak. After a few steps, I was pulled back. “What’s with the act? When Grandma wakes and sees you, you can leave when the time is right.” He strode downstairs, quickly leaving the old mansion. 6 The next day, Grandma Collins was lucid for a while. She held my hand, repeatedly calling out, “Sweetheart.” I turned my head, wiping away tears. “Grandma, you must get well. You haven’t accompanied Eleanor to watch the sunset yet.” Grandma just smiled, offering no response. Soon, she fell back into a deep coma. Grandma didn’t wake up for a long time. My body couldn’t hold up, so I went back to my room for a nap. I was woken by a commotion in the hall. I came out. Facing away, a perfect couple, a handsome man and a beautiful woman, stood in the hall. “Adrian, where’s Eleanor?” The man turned sideways. Clara Thorne looked at me, stunned, “Eleanor?” She came over and took my hand: “Eleanor, it really is you. You’re so thin now.” I looked down and saw the emerald green imperial jade bracelet on her fair wrist. This was the Collins family’s heirloom bracelet; Grandma Collins passed it to Adrian’s mother, who had now given it to Clara Thorne. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you speaking?” Suddenly, a sharp, warning gaze shot my way. Adrian had always been unwilling to let her suffer even a little grievance. I forced a smile. “Are you going to see Grandma Collins? She’s upstairs.” She looked up. “Okay, I’ll be down later. Adrian and I have a restaurant booked tonight. You should come with us too.” Clara Thorne went upstairs with hurried steps. In the hall, I turned my head away, avoiding that warning gaze. But still, I couldn’t help but ask. “Are you getting married soon?” He sneered: “You’re quite concerned about these things, still claiming you’re not plotting anything?” “Eleanor, I’m warning you, if you dare to hurt Clara again, I’ll make sure you die without a burial place.” My breath caught, even feeling painful, but in the end, I just said lightly. “You really overestimate me; I don’t have that capability at all.” 7 In the evening, I didn’t go to dinner with them. Instead, I told Aunt Sarah I was going out to work. Penniless. The debt collectors, if I didn’t pay them for a day, I would be brutally beaten. I had no choice. I went to a bar and worked as a server. But just as I left the bar, the debt collectors caught up to me and snatched the money. “Leave me some, I need to take a ride.” I grabbed the person leaving. He turned, kicking me viciously. “You earned so little, and you want me to leave you some?” I lay on the ground. My whole body convulsed with pain. “Pah.” “Don’t forget, we let you come back to borrow money from the Everdeen family to pay off your father’s debt to us.” “Otherwise, you know, you wouldn’t have made it back alive.” Another kick landed on my face. I lay helplessly on the ground. At this moment, I truly wished I were dead. 8 By the time I walked back to the Collins family estate, it was three in the morning. Aunt Sarah, woken from her sleep, opened the door for me and gasped: “Miss Everdeen, what happened to you?” I raised a hand to cover my face. “Nothing, I fell.” Exhausted, I was about to go back to my room to sleep. But a tall figure came down the stairs. I had already sensed who it was, and just wanted to quickly retreat to my room. He hadn’t stayed here last night, why was he here now? “Stop.” I tried to stand in the dimmer light, turning back. “Is there something wrong?” He narrowed his eyes, then took a swift step forward. I was held. “What happened to your face?” His presence was too overwhelming; I grew very nervous and dared not look at him. “I… I fell.” “Fell? Where did you run off to late at night, and you’re only back now, almost dawn?” His grip was strong, and his gaze was menacing. He wore only a black silk pajama, yet it exuded a chilling, captivating aura. I struggled, but he wouldn’t let go. I was already in so much pain, and with him not letting go, I felt like I was being crushed. I don’t know where I found the courage, but I stood on tiptoes, leaning closer to him. “Adrian, are you worried about me? Are you concerned?” His eyes suddenly narrowed. Before I could open my mouth again, I was shoved away. “Shut up, a scheming person like you, is anyone worth caring about?” I was thrown against the wall, my back hitting it again, feeling like my bones were coming apart. I stood in the shadows, watching him turn and stride away. My eyes filled with confusion.

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I had just moved in when the college student across the hall called the police, accusing me of stalking her in the shower out of jealous rage. When the police arrived, she cried, tears streaming down her face, and pointed a finger at me, yelling: “Pervert! Every night you spy on me with binoculars and post my photos online!” “I saw it all! Your eyes are so lecherous, it’s disgusting!” The neighbors around us pointed fingers at me, some even shoved me, calling me the scum of society. “This kind of creep should be chemically castrated!” “He looks so decent, who knew he was a peeping tom!” Facing a barrage of accusations, I took off my sunglasses, revealing two deep, hollow eye sockets. “Officer, how can a blind man, with no sight, spy on anyone?” 1 My voice was soft, but it pierced the noisy air in the room like an ice pick. The neighbors who had just been pushing and shouting at me froze. The middle-aged woman leading the charge held her hand mid-air, forgetting to lower it. Everyone’s gaze focused on my face. Or rather, on the two empty, hollow sockets where my eyes used to be. They were an indelible mark left by a fire three years ago. The lead police officer, a seasoned veteran named Detective Miller, paused, then frowned, his tone full of impatience. “Don’t pull that act with me!” “We’ll know if you’re truly blind after a hospital examination!” Amy Lestat, the girl across the hall, stopped crying for a moment, then burst into even sharper wails. “He’s lying! He’s just trying to get away with it!” “How can he not see! He stands by the window every night watching me! Those eyes… those eyes…” She seemed to want to describe my eyes but was too terrified by my empty sockets to speak, merely pointing at me, trembling all over. “Disgusting! So disgusting!” Her shouts stirred the neighbors into a fresh commotion. “Right! He must be faking it!” “What won’t criminals do these days? To escape punishment, he’d even claim to be blind!” A young man, filled with righteous indignation, even rushed forward, trying to grab my collar. “You scum, I’ll deliver justice today!” Detective Miller held him back. “What do you think you’re doing! Everyone calm down! We’ll handle this!” He turned to me, his suspicion and disgust undiminished. “Come with us.” I didn’t resist, calmly extending my hands. A cold touch embraced my wrists. I was flanked by two young officers, led towards the elevator. Behind me, Amy’s cries and the neighbors’ curses blended into a cacophony. “Scum of society!” “Get out of our neighborhood!” “Hope you rot in jail!” I could “see” the self-righteous expressions on their faces. And “hear” the pleasure in their words as they trampled someone into the mud. As we entered the elevator, the metal doors slowly closed, cutting off the outside clamor. One young officer, probably new to the force, couldn’t help but whisper to me. “Are you… are you really blind?” I twitched the corner of my mouth, not answering. The other officer patted his shoulder, signaling him to keep quiet. But I knew their scales of judgment had already tipped entirely towards the tearful girl. After all, a young, pretty, pitiful college student. A sunglasses-wearing, suspicious man living alone. To them, it was clear who was the victim and who was the aggressor. Only they didn’t know. Sometimes, what the eyes see is the biggest lie. And I, a blind man, “saw” what none of them did. For instance, Amy’s steady, unruffled heartbeat when she accused me. 2 The interrogation room at the police station. The fluorescent lights shone brightly, and the air smelled musty. I sat on a cold metal chair, facing Detective Miller and a female officer taking notes. “Name.” “Lucas Rochester.” “Age.” “Twenty-eight.” “Occupation.” “Unemployed.” Detective Miller slammed his pen on the table, creating a jarring sound. “Lucas Rochester, I advise you to confess honestly!” “With witness and material evidence present, how much longer do you intend to argue?” I faced his direction and calmly asked. “Excuse me, who is the witness? What is the material evidence?” “The witness is the victim, Amy Lestat! The material evidence…” Detective Miller paused, apparently finding it somewhat tricky. “We are currently searching for the material evidence! Don’t think you’re off the hook just because you don’t admit it!” He intensified his tone, trying to overwhelm me with his presence. “Amy Lestat has told us everything! You only moved in a week ago, and you already harbored ill intentions towards her. Every night at eight, when she showers, you use binoculars to peek at her from across the way!” “You even secretly photographed her and posted her pictures on foreign websites for profit!” “This behavior constitutes a serious crime! Confess now, and you might receive leniency!” I almost burst out laughing. Well-crafted. Time, place, tool, motive—all perfectly laid out. If I weren’t the person involved, I almost would have believed it. “Detective Miller.” I spoke, interrupting his lengthy monologue. “First, I don’t own binoculars.” “Second, I don’t have a tool for the crime. My computer and phone were replaced with blind-accessible versions three years ago and have no camera function.” “Third, and most importantly.” I said, enunciating each word. “I am blind.” Detective Miller’s breathing noticeably grew heavier. “I told you, don’t use that as an excuse! We will take you for an examination to confirm if you’re truly blind!” “Until the results are in, you are the primary suspect!” Just then, the interrogation room door was pushed open, and a young officer peeked his head in. “Captain Miller, the victim is very agitated, keeps crying, and says she’ll report us to your superiors, claiming we’re shielding a criminal.” Detective Miller’s face darkened. “Understood.” He waved the young officer away, then glared fiercely at me. Of course, I couldn’t see his glare, but I could hear the grinding of his teeth. “Lucas Rochester, do you know that because of you, we’re under a lot of pressure right now?” “She’s a university student from a prestigious school, with high public attention. If this isn’t handled well, our entire precinct will face criticism!” I understood. More than the truth, he cared about defusing the situation. And the easiest way to defuse the situation was for me to plead guilty. “So, to prevent you from being criticized, I should confess to something I didn’t do?” My tone grew cold. Detective Miller seemed provoked by my attitude. “What kind of attitude is that! Who do you think you are?” “Let me tell you, once you’re in here, if you’re a dragon, you coil; if you’re a tiger, you crouch!” “You refuse to confess, do you? Fine! We have plenty of ways to make you talk!” He stood up, looking down at me. “Lock him up first! Once the search warrant comes, go search his place thoroughly!” “I don’t believe we won’t find any evidence!” The door opened, and two officers entered, once again grabbing my arms. I didn’t struggle. I knew that from the moment Amy called the police, I had fallen into a carefully crafted trap. Since they dared to do this, they must have been fully prepared. Next, they would “find” the so-called “evidence” in my home. And I would be thoroughly nailed to the pillar of shame. 3 The cold iron door clanged shut behind me, echoing heavily. I was locked in a temporary holding cell. The room was small, with only a hard cot and a toilet. The air was thick with the scent of disinfectant mixed with despair. I fumbled my way to the bed and sat down, quietly listening to the sounds outside. Footsteps of officers pacing back and forth echoed in the corridor, interspersed with hushed conversations. “Is that the peeping pervert?” “Looks decent enough, but he’s utterly disgusting.” “He’s supposedly blind, but I bet he’s faking it.” “Who knows? Anyway, he’s finished now. Of all people to cross, he had to cross a college student.” These voices, like countless tiny needles, pricked my ears. I had long been accustomed to darkness, but for the first time, it felt so chillingly cold. After about two hours, the iron door opened again. It was Detective Miller. He held a transparent evidence bag in his hand, a triumphant smile on his face. He dangled the evidence bag in front of me. “Lucas Rochester, look what this is?” He seemed to forget I couldn’t see. He revealed the answer himself, his voice full of satisfaction. “Under your windowsill, we found this!” “A pair of military-grade binoculars!” “And this!” He took out another evidence bag, containing a digital camera. “Inside the camera, we found a large number of candid photos of Amy Lestat! Various angles! Indecent!” “Now, what do you have to say?” I remained silent. Inside, however, a storm raged. They were fast. So quickly, they had prepared all the “evidence.” Detective Miller saw my silence and assumed I had conceded. He pulled up a chair, sat opposite me, and spoke in a tone as if lecturing a misbehaving junior. “Lucas Rochester, Lucas Rochester, I ask you, so young, good-looking too, why choose such sordid acts when you could do anything else?” “Now the evidence is conclusive, denying it is useless.” “Just sign and put your fingerprint, and I can still plead with the prosecutor for you, so you get a lighter sentence.” He pushed a document and an inkpad towards me. “Come on, put your fingerprint, finish this early, it’s good for everyone.” I could “hear” the perfunctory and impatient tone in his voice. He didn’t care about the truth at all. He just wanted to close the case quickly. I slowly lifted my head, facing him. “Detective Miller, if I put my fingerprint, does that mean I admit to all the charges?” “Of course!” “Will I be sentenced for sexual assault and disseminating obscene materials?” “Yes, with multiple charges combined, at least three years, to begin with.” “Will my name, my life, forever be branded as a ‘sexual predator’ and ‘pervert’?” Detective Miller’s patience seemed to have run out. “Why are you so verbose! This is your own doing! Who else can you blame?” I smiled. My laughter sounded particularly eerie in the empty holding cell. “Yes, who else can I blame?” I murmured to myself. Then, I reached out, fumbling for the transcript. Just as Detective Miller thought I would press my fingerprint, I used all my strength to tear the transcript into shreds. The paper scraps fell like snowflakes. Detective Miller was stunned; he hadn’t expected me to dare to do such a thing. “You… you’re crazy!” He stood up abruptly, pointing at my nose and yelling. “This is resisting arrest! An aggravated offense!” Facing his rage, I spoke each word clearly. “I didn’t do it, and I won’t admit to a single word.” “You can fabricate evidence, you can beat confessions out of people, but you will not make me bow down.” “You want me to confess? Over my dead body.” My words were like a resounding slap, hitting Detective Miller hard across the face. His face turned from red to green, then green to purple. “Good! Good! Good!” He repeated “good” three times, trembling with rage. “You’ve got guts! I’ll see just how tough you are!” He turned and stormed out, roaring at the door. “Guards! Cuff him! Request formal detention!” “I’ll make sure he learns what the dignity of the law means!” Soon, two officers rushed in, roughly dragging me off the bed. Cold handcuffs again clamped onto my wrists, this time tighter than before, cutting into my skin. They pushed and shoved me, making me stumble forward. Just then, my phone rang. It was the monotone electronic sound typical of blind-accessible phones. One officer impatiently reached to hang up. But I spoke. “Let me answer.” My voice held an undeniable calm. The officers paused, surprised. Detective Miller yelled: “Answer what! Take him away!” “If this call delays the ‘truth’ you seek, the consequences are yours.” My words made Detective Miller stop. He looked at me suspiciously. Finally, he motioned for his subordinate to hand me the phone. I fumbled and pressed the answer button. On the other end, a cold yet familiar female voice spoke. “Lucas Rochester, I am your landlady. I demand you vacate my property within three days.” “I don’t want a disgusting pervert living in my apartment.” 4 The voice on the other end of the phone belonged to my landlady, Ms. Jenkins. Her voice, through the receiver, was cold as ice. “Ms. Jenkins, it’s not what you think.” I tried to explain. “I don’t want to hear it!” She brutally cut me off. “All I know is, you only moved in a week ago, and you’ve already caused such a scandal!” “Now the entire neighborhood chat group is exploding! Everyone’s cursing me for letting a wolf into the fold!” “How will I rent my apartment out in the future? What about my reputation?” Her voice grew sharper, filled with the anger of being implicated. “Lucas Rochester, I don’t care if you’re a genuine pervert or wrongly accused, I’m giving you three days!” “If you’re not moved out in three days, I’ll hire someone to throw all your belongings out!” With that, she slammed the phone down. Silence once again fell over the holding cell. Detective Miller showed a hint of schadenfreude. “Heard that? It doesn’t feel good to be abandoned by everyone, does it?” He winked at his subordinate. “Take him away!” I was escorted, walking through the long corridor. This time, no one whispered. They just looked at me with expressions of utter contempt. I was shoved into a police car, heading for the city detention center. There, I would await the so-called judgment. Outside the car window, the city’s clamor gradually faded. I leaned against the cold car wall, feeling the vibrations of the vehicle. Despair, like a tide, surged from all directions, threatening to drown me. Just then, another voice suddenly echoed in my mind. A calm, efficient, emotionless female voice. “Mr. Rochester, I am Quinn Vance, a lawyer from the City Legal Aid Center.” “Your case is now assigned to me.” I froze. Legal aid? I hadn’t applied for it. “The police applied for you.” As if guessing my question, the lawyer named Quinn explained. “According to regulations, in your situation, a lawyer must be present.” I understood. This was just a formality. A mere procedural step. This lawyer, Quinn, probably already assumed I was guilty, just like Detective Miller and his team. All she had to do was persuade me to plead guilty, then sign a stack of papers. “I have nothing to say.” My voice was dry and tired. “I am innocent.” Silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds. I expected her to launch into a lengthy lecture, just like Detective Miller. But she didn’t. She simply spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “I’ve reviewed your situation with the police.” “Binoculars and a camera with candid photos were found at the scene, the victim’s accusations are vivid, and multiple neighbors can testify to your suspicious behavior.” “All evidence is heavily against you.” Every word she spoke was like a hammer, striking my heart. “If you insist on not pleading guilty, once the trial begins, and the judge accepts this evidence, your sentence will only be harsher.” I closed my eyes, my deeply sunken eye sockets dry. “So, you’re also here to persuade me to plead guilty?” “No.” Quinn’s answer surprised me. “I’m not here to persuade you to plead guilty. I am your lawyer, and my duty is to protect your legal rights.” “I now need you to answer a few questions. Please be absolutely truthful.” Her voice was as calm as a precise instrument. “First, are those binoculars and that camera yours?” “No.” “Second, did you know the plaintiff, Amy Lestat, previously? Or have any contact with her?” “No, no contact.” “Third, besides your eyes, are your other senses, such as hearing, more acute than an average person’s?” This question stirred something within me. She was the first person to notice other changes in my body. “Yes.” “Good.” A subtle, almost imperceptible tremor seemed to enter Quinn’s voice. “Mr. Rochester, the police will transfer you to the city detention center in half an hour. Before that, they will ask you to sign a criminal detention notice.” “Do not sign anything.” “Wait for me.” The call ended. I held my phone, and despite the cold in my hands, a bead of sweat formed. Hope. In the endless darkness and despair, this woman named Quinn gave me a faint glimmer of hope. Though this hope was as small as a candle flame in the wind, liable to extinguish at any moment. The police car stopped. I was led into an office, where Detective Miller threw a document in front of me. “Sign it!” I shook my head. “My lawyer will be here soon. I won’t sign anything before she arrives.” Detective Miller’s face instantly turned purple with rage. “Lawyer? You can afford a lawyer?” He acted as if he’d heard the biggest joke. “Let me tell you, it’s useless! No one can save you!” He grabbed my hand, trying to force my fingerprint onto the document. Just then, the office door was violently pushed open. A woman in a professional suit, with an upright posture, walked in. She glanced at the scene in the room, her brow slightly furrowed. “Stop.” Her voice was soft, but it carried an undeniable authority. “I am Lucas Rochester’s defense attorney, Quinn Vance.” “Any coercive action on your part, when my client has explicitly refused to sign, is illegal.” Detective Miller’s face turned from green to pale as he looked at the suddenly appearing Quinn. He released my hand, scrutinizing the powerful woman, his tone unfriendly: “Who are you? Who let you in?” Quinn took a power of attorney and her lawyer’s badge from her briefcase, placing them directly on the table. “Appointed by the City Legal Aid Center. These are my credentials and authorization. Now, I demand to meet my client immediately and privately.”

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1 My mother was dying. Her last wish was to see me married. I begged Amelia for twenty-seven days, and finally, she agreed to marry me. I waited at the registry office until closing, but she never showed. That very day, however, Amelia’s childhood friend, David Marlowe, posted their marriage certificate on social media: “Time flies, three more days and it’ll be a month since we got married.” It was then I realized that the day I first begged Amelia, she had already eloped with her childhood friend. At that moment, I received an apology text from Amelia. “Ian, David is being pressured into marriage by his family. I can’t just watch him settle for anyone, trapped in a cage.” “We’ll be divorced in three days.” “I’ll marry you after that.” Three days later, when Amelia, in her wedding dress, appeared at the registry office entrance, She only received my message. “Amelia, goodbye forever.” In the morgue, I looked at my mother’s face, tears streaming down. My mother raised me alone and never asked me for anything. But I couldn’t even fulfill her last wish. Knowing my mother was gravely ill, I begged Amelia, my girlfriend of six years, to marry me, hoping to show my mother that I wouldn’t be alone after she was gone. I pleaded with her for twenty-seven days. But Amelia always found excuses. The first day, her childhood friend’s car broke down, and she rushed to pick him up. The second day, she was helping her childhood friend move, so she had no time. … The twenty-sixth day, her childhood friend had a stomachache, and she hurried to take care of him. If David hadn’t posted that marriage certificate today, I would still be in the dark. I had imagined a thousand reasons for Amelia, but I never thought she would already be married. Kneeling by my mother’s hospital bed, I stayed until evening, when Amelia called. Her voice, as always, was gentle: “It’s so late, why aren’t you home yet? Where are you, I’ll come pick you up.” I opened my mouth, but no words came out. In the past, I would have pretended to be angry, let her coax me, and then happily waited for her. But now, I couldn’t utter a single gentle word to her. Amelia’s voice held a touch of urgency: “Ian, where are you now?” “The hospital.” Amelia paused, as if just remembering I had been taking care of my mother these days. “I… wait for me, I’ll come to the hospital to be with you.” The call ended, and I forced myself to get up, fighting back the grief, to arrange my mother’s funeral. But ten minutes later, she sent another message: 【Ian, I need to accompany David to deal with his parents. I’ll definitely visit your mother next time!】 I wasn’t surprised. Because for the past two years, the phrase I heard most from her was: 【Next time, for sure.】 Missed our anniversary, will make it up next time. Bailed on meeting my mother, will come next time. Declined to marry me, will be free tomorrow. She knew I would forgive her, which is why she hurt me so carelessly. But this time, there would be no next time. Because my mother wouldn’t have another chance. And I wouldn’t forgive her again. That night, I didn’t go home, staying at the hospital instead. Amelia also sent messages all night and called countless times. I didn’t look, nor did I answer. The next day, I arrived at the company early to prepare my resignation. Amelia was the company’s founder. I was just an ordinary designer. I had been with her since she had nothing, building the company together. Now, my position in the company had become insignificant. Even if I disappeared, Amelia wouldn’t notice. Just as I was printing my resignation, Amelia suddenly appeared behind me. Under her gaze, I calmly took the resignation in my hand. She looked at me, her tone gentle: “Finished printing?” “Yes.” Amelia looked at me, seemingly oblivious to my coldness. She cleared her throat: “Ian, come with me for a moment.” The moment Amelia called me away, my colleagues immediately started whispering. “Did you know? Ms. Reed is already married.” “Really? No wonder Ian and Ms. Reed kept their relationship secret, all sneaky about it. Turns out he’s the other man.” “Ian always said he hated home-wreckers, acting like a saint while being a slut.” My father abandoned my mother and me for another woman, causing us half a lifetime of suffering. But now, thanks to Amelia, I was being called the other man. In the office, Amelia tried to hug me. I stepped back: “Ms. Reed, this is the company.” Amelia frowned. “Don’t be angry. How about I go with you to see your mother tonight?” I shook my head. “It’s no longer necessary.” My mother was dead, and I didn’t want her to see Amelia. If she knew I was being called the other man because of Amelia, She would definitely be angry with me. Amelia seemed to sense my slight change. After a moment of silence, she spoke: “Two more days, and I’ll be divorced from David. Then, we can get married.” With that, she handed me a gift box. “This is ginseng I prepared for your mother, specifically to nourish her body.” I looked at the ginseng, a little dazed. Her intentions came a little too late. My mother no longer needed it. Seeing my silence, a hint of anxiety flashed in Amelia’s eyes, and she was about to speak. A sudden ringing phone interrupted Amelia’s thoughts. Amelia took out her phone, glanced at me, Hesitated for a moment, then left. I knew it was David calling. After all, he was Amelia’s legal husband now. My heart felt no ripple. After all, I no longer cared. After that, I submitted my resignation. Facing my sudden resignation request, Vice President Johnson seemed prepared. “Ian, I’m sure Ms. Reed will arrange things for you.” I bit my lip, feeling a little absurd. It seemed everyone had decided I was Amelia’s kept man at the company. She had prepared everything for me. But they refused to believe I was Amelia’s legitimate boyfriend, and that I was heartbroken and ready to leave. Leaving the company, I ran into Amelia and David at the elevator. Seeing me, Amelia’s eyes flickered, and she instinctively began to explain: “Don’t misunderstand, I brought David here to…” Before she finished, David put his arm around her shoulder: “To tour my wife’s company.” I didn’t speak. Then, David spoke again: “Ian, you don’t mind, do you?” David looked at me with a provocative smirk. I silently stepped out of the elevator, making way for them. Amelia looked at me, her eyes filled with hesitation, wanting to say something, But David pulled her away. In the afternoon, at the crematorium, I watched my mother turn into a wisp of ash. I laid her to rest in the cemetery. Until night fell. Amelia didn’t appear, nor did she send a single message. I didn’t care. Without her disturbance, my mother could rest more peacefully. I imagined my mother’s spirit in heaven wouldn’t want me to be entangled with her anymore. And certainly wouldn’t want to see me marry her. Our six years together, it was time for it to end completely. Leaving the cemetery, I walked all the way home. It had been a long time since I walked alone at night. Before, I held my mother’s hand. Later, Amelia linked her arm through mine. From now on, I would walk alone. I thought I would get used to it. I didn’t get home until after midnight. The living room light was on, and Amelia was messaging on the sofa. Seeing me enter, Amelia’s furrowed brow smoothed, and she immediately rushed over, trying to grab my hand: “Where have you been? You didn’t answer your phone or my messages, I was about to call the police, do you know that?!” I froze for a moment, then pulled free from Amelia’s hand. “I was with my mother, I didn’t want her to be disturbed.” Hearing me mention my mother, Amelia remembered what she had said earlier, and a look of guilt crossed her face. She suddenly looked at me expectantly, and solemnly pulled out a box for me. I instinctively took it and opened the box; inside was a pair of wedding rings. I suddenly froze. Once, Amelia had confidently held my hand. She promised we would wear our wedding rings, holding our marriage certificate, and let my mother witness our happiness. I waited countless days, hoped countless times. But that was before. I closed the box and handed it back. Amelia frowned slightly, as if she realized something, and said somewhat awkwardly: “It’s past midnight now, just one more day, and I can divorce David.” “Don’t worry, I’ve always remembered my promise.” “Tomorrow, we’ll put the rings on each other, and then we’ll go get married.” I wasn’t moved by her sweet talk, merely stating: “Alright, I understand. I’m a bit tired, I’m going to rest now.” Amelia’s smile froze, realizing for the first time my perfunctory tone. A hint of panic flashed in her eyes, and she reached for my hand. Just then, David, wearing my pajamas, walked out of the bedroom. He blinked sleepily at me, then immediately stepped forward, putting his arm around Amelia’s shoulder, whining: “Amelia, Ian’s back, let’s go to bed.” Amelia quickly looked at me, explaining: “David had an argument with his family, I let him stay in the guest room for the night.” With that, Amelia stared intently at me, seemingly afraid I would misunderstand. I nodded, saying indifferently: “It’s fine, I can stay at my mother’s place for the night.” Amelia froze, seemingly surprised by my quick agreement. But David didn’t give me a chance to change my mind, triumphantly turning and rushing back into the room. As I pulled my suitcase, ready to leave, Amelia still stood in the living room. She pursed her lips, clutching my hand tightly, refusing to let go, The guilt in her eyes deepened, Finally, amidst David’s urging, she spoke: “Tomorrow, after we get married, we’ll go see your mother together.” At dawn, I packed everything and returned to the company for my final handover. The moment I stepped into the company, colleagues looked at me with strange expressions, and after I passed, they whispered and pointed behind my back. It wasn’t until I saw David sitting at my desk that I understood the reason for this bizarre atmosphere. Everyone was staring at their computer screens, yet their eyes couldn’t help but dart towards this volatile scene. Seeing me arrive, David looked at me arrogantly: “I’m starting today, I’ll sit here, you go somewhere else.” I looked at him, nodding calmly. “Okay, I’ll pack up my things.” We spoke very calmly, but seeing my demeanor, My colleagues at the company all thought I was guilty after seeing David, the rightful spouse. But due to the presence of both David and me, the main parties, no one dared to say much. They just typed on their computers, expressing their disdain for me. I also wanted to clarify things, but I didn’t know how to begin. After all, David was indeed Amelia’s legally married husband. Any more words from me would only bring self-humiliation. As I finished packing and was about to leave, Amelia walked over. Seeing me carrying my luggage, her expression tightened. “Where are you going?” “I…” David spoke first: “Make way for me, I like sitting here.” Seeing me about to leave, Amelia quickly grabbed my arm. “No, this is your spot, no one can…” Before she could finish, I interrupted directly: “If he likes it, let him have it.” After all, I had already resigned; who sat here was none of my business. Amelia, however, froze, her expression obscured. It was only after my back, carrying the box, disappeared that she came to her senses. Amelia pushed aside David, who was humming and tidying the desk, then, in front of everyone, slapped him across the face: “Did I fake marry you, making you think you could walk all over me?!” “Have you forgotten, I warned you not to mess with Ian.” After leaving the company, I received a text message from Amelia. [Tomorrow at the registry office entrance, I’ll wait for you.] [The specialist I hired for your mother will arrive tomorrow.] [After we get married, we’ll go see your mother together.] I smiled, a sudden bitterness. Amelia, goodbye. I took all my luggage and headed to the airport. The next day, Amelia stood at the registry office entrance, holding her freshly issued divorce certificate.

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