Category: English

I was seven months pregnant. After my prenatal checkup, I dozed off in the passenger seat on the ride home. But when I woke up, the baby in my belly was gone. I instantly freaked out, but my husband just smiled at me with absolute adoration. “Still half-asleep? You were never pregnant, honey. What baby?” I thought it was a sick joke and forced him to turn the car around and speed back to the hospital. But the nurses said I was there for a routine physical, not a prenatal exam. The OB-GYN shook her head and swore she had never seen me in her life. Even my own mother called me, her voice red and teary. “Sweetheart, is the stress of trying to conceive getting to you? Why don’t we go see a psychiatrist?” But just two hours ago, I had literally watched the tiny, beating heart of my child on the ultrasound monitor. How could a seven-month pregnancy just vanish into thin air like a magic trick? I refused to believe I was crazy. I called the cops, demanded security footage, and tore through the clinic’s records. There was absolutely zero trace of my pregnancy or my checkups. Everyone was convinced I had lost my mind. In a haze of heavy sedatives and utter despair, I slipped and fell from the hospital roof. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the morning of my prenatal checkup. 1 “Harper, time to get up. We can’t be late for your checkup today.” Liam’s voice floated through the bedroom door, as gentle and loving as always. I groggily opened my eyes, my hand instinctively dropping to my stomach. I froze for two seconds, then shot up in bed and yanked up my pajama shirt. It was round and heavy. The little one inside seemed to be startled by my sudden movement and gave me a sharp kick. My eyes instantly welled up with tears. In my previous life, today was the exact day Liam accompanied me to the Women’s Clinic for my seven-month checkup. After it was over, I felt incredibly drowsy and dozed off in the passenger seat. When I opened my eyes again, my stomach was completely flat. The baby was gone. My husband claimed I had never been pregnant. The nurses said I was there for a basic physical. Even my own mother told me my anxiety over getting pregnant had caused me to hallucinate. I refused to accept it. I caused a massive scene at the hospital, and eventually, security dragged me away and admitted me to a psych ward. But even as I fell from that rooftop to my death, I couldn’t understand it. How could a seven-month-old fetus, a baby I had felt moving inside me, just vanish without a trace? They all said she was a figment of my imagination. But right now, she was unequivocally resting inside my belly. I stroked my stomach, the tears silently falling down my cheeks. “What’s wrong, honey? Did you have a nightmare?” Liam leaned halfway into the room, pausing when he saw my red, teary eyes. I looked at him, my emotions an absolute tangled mess. In my previous life, he was exactly like this—gentle, considerate, the absolute best husband in the world. But after the baby disappeared, he was the one who swore I had never been pregnant, and he was the one who followed the doctor’s advice to lock me in a psychiatric facility. In this life, I didn’t know if I could trust him at all. But no matter what, until I uncovered the truth, I couldn’t tip my hand. “I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep well,” I forced a tight smile. “I don’t feel like going out today. Let’s reschedule the checkup.” Liam paused, walking over to feel my forehead. “Are you feeling sick?” “Just really exhausted.” “Alright then. I’ll call the clinic and push it back three days,” he said, looking down at his phone. “That specialist is in the office on Wednesday anyway.” Watching his profile, my mind raced. In this life, if I just hid at home and refused to go to the clinic, would my baby be safe? But how long could I hide? I had to figure out exactly what happened in my previous life. Why did every single person swear I was never pregnant? I closed my eyes, pressing my palm against my skin, feeling the subtle movements of the little life inside me. It’s not a hallucination. I had three days to uncover the truth. The first day, I found nothing out of the ordinary. All I could do was take photos of every single prenatal medical record I had accumulated over the past seven months and back them up to a secure cloud drive. I remembered that in my past life, when I frantically searched the house for my old ultrasound printouts, they were all gone. Even the hospital’s security cameras magically had no record of me. But I still felt paranoid, so I booked a last-minute maternity photoshoot at a local portrait studio. During the shoot, I paid the assistants extra to take a ton of behind-the-scenes videos on my phone, clearly documenting me walking around with a massive baby bump. Only then did my anxiety ease slightly. Next, I called my mom. “Mom, I’m really craving your homemade lasagna.” “Of course, sweetie! I’ll make a huge batch and bring it over. You’re eating for two now, you need the calories.” “Mom, do you remember how many months pregnant I am right now?” “Seven months, Harper. How could your own mother forget that?” I recorded that entire conversation. In my past life, my mother had looked a police officer dead in the eye and told him I was never pregnant. In this life, no matter what crazy tricks they pulled, these audio files weren’t going to just vanish. The day of the rescheduled checkup arrived. Liam went to the billing counter to handle the copay, leaving me sitting on a bench in the waiting area. A nurse in standard pink scrubs walked over. Seeing my belly, she offered a warm smile. “Carrying high and pointy like that, I’d bet money it’s a boy.” Liam returned just in time to hear her and chimed in smoothly. “Boy or girl, I don’t care. If it’s a boy, we’ll protect his mom together. If it’s a girl, I’ll protect both my girls.” The nurse covered her mouth and giggled. “Oh my, your husband is so sweet.” I couldn’t bring myself to smile. I remembered this nurse. In my past life, she had said those exact same words: Carrying high and pointy, I’d bet money it’s a boy. But later, when I tore through the hospital looking for her, she had stared at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Ma’am, are you confused? You were here for a routine physical, not a prenatal exam.” This time, I had quietly opened the voice memo app on my phone and recorded her every word. The examination room was on the third floor. The OB-GYN doing my ultrasound was a middle-aged woman in her early forties with a gentle demeanor. Dr. Evans. In my past life, she was the one who examined me too. When the baby disappeared and I charged into her office demanding answers, she had looked completely bewildered. “Ma’am, I have never seen you before in my life. Are you sure you have the right doctor?” But my memory was crystal clear. It was her. I stared at her face. She was looking down, adjusting the monitor, completely oblivious to my intense glare. “Alright, go ahead and lay back. Lift your shirt for me.” I lay down. The cold gel hit my skin, and the probe slid across my stomach. The familiar, tiny silhouette appeared on the screen. “Developing beautifully,” Dr. Evans said. “The head circumference is slightly above average. Just keep an eye on your sugar intake so the baby doesn’t get too big for delivery.” I stared at the monitor, my eyes tearing up again. “Dr. Evans, could I take a quick picture with you?” She paused, surprised. I quickly added, “First-time mom. I just really want to document the journey.” She smiled warmly. “Of course. Go ahead.” I pulled out my phone, switched to the front camera, and leaned in close. Click. I looked down at the photo. Dr. Evans’s face, my face, and the ultrasound monitor clearly showing the baby in the background. It was all there. Crystal clear. Let’s see you try to deny this in this life, I thought fiercely. Walking out of the exam room, I purposely tracked down that nurse. “Nurse Rachel, could we grab a quick picture?” I held up my phone. “I’m making a pregnancy vlog for the baby.” Rachel was incredibly accommodating. “Where’s your husband? Let’s have him take a full-body shot of us.” Liam was pulled over, and he snapped several photos of Rachel and me. In every single photo, my massive baby bump was front and center. “Why are you so hyper today?” Liam asked with a chuckle. I put my phone in my purse. “First pregnancy, remember? I just want to make a lot of memories.” In reality, I wanted to make a lot of evidence. This time, I had photos, videos, audio recordings, and multiple witnesses. I refused to believe they could pull off whatever they did last time. Walking out of the hospital, Liam helped me into the passenger seat. “Tired? Take a quick nap. I’ll wake you when we get home.” I shook my head. “I don’t want to go home. I want to go to that famous brunch spot downtown.” He paused, then smiled. “Alright. Whatever the queen wants.” In my past life, I had fallen asleep in the car on the way home. When I woke up, my child was gone. This time, I absolutely refused to sleep. And I needed to be somewhere packed with people! The diner wasn’t far from the hospital. We got there in twenty minutes. But there was a massive crowd waiting outside. “Want to go somewhere else?” Liam asked. “No. I want this place.” I waddled over to the crowded waiting area and sat down. Liam offered a helpless smile and went to the host stand to put our name in. The waiting area was packed. A waitress carrying a tray walked over. “Ma’am, please have some crackers while you wait. We can’t have our expecting mothers going hungry.” She handed me a small bag of artisan crackers. I thanked her, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. With so many people watching, nothing could possibly happen to me here, right? I leaned back against the bench, watching the bustling crowd, but my eyelids started to feel incredibly heavy. I had barely slept the night before. Now, sitting in the warm, cozy waiting area, waves of unnatural exhaustion began crashing over me. I fought desperately to keep my eyes open, but my vision rapidly blurred into darkness. … “Harper?” Someone was shaking my shoulder. I jolted awake. My very first instinct was to grab my stomach. It was flat. I froze, and frantically felt it again. Flat. I violently yanked up my sweater. My stomach was completely smooth and flat. “What’s wrong?” Liam crouched in front of me, looking deeply confused. I opened my mouth, my voice trembling violently. “The baby is gone…” “What?” “The baby is gone!” I pointed at my stomach, screaming. “My seven-month-old baby is gone!” Liam froze for a second, then let out a soft chuckle. “Harper, are you still half-asleep? Since when were you ever pregnant?” I stared at him, my eyes wide with terror, and shrieked: “What do you mean?! We literally just left the prenatal clinic!” Liam frowned slightly, looking genuinely concerned. “Honey, we did go to the hospital today, but it wasn’t for a prenatal exam. You had a routine physical.” Those exact words again. My entire body began to shake. I stumbled out of my chair and lunged at the waitress who had given me the crackers, grabbing her arm. “Earlier! You said I was an expecting mother and gave me crackers so I wouldn’t go hungry! Do you remember?!” The waitress looked terrified. “Ma’am, what are you talking about? We don’t even serve crackers here.” I stood there, paralyzed. Then I frantically dug into my purse, pulled out my phone, and opened my photo gallery. The selfies with Dr. Evans and Nurse Rachel… they were all gone. Refusing to give up, I opened Facebook. Yesterday, after the maternity shoot, I had posted the behind-the-scenes videos. Dozens of friends and coworkers had liked and commented on it. But that post had vanished completely from my timeline. “Impossible…” My trembling fingers kept scrolling. Liam walked over and gently squeezed my shoulders. “Harper, you’ve been under so much stress trying to conceive. You’re having hallucinations.” I violently slapped his hands away and sprinted out of the diner. I had to go back to the hospital. I had to find that doctor, and that nurse. They had to remember me. When I burst through the clinic doors, Nurse Rachel was taking a pregnant woman’s blood pressure. I grabbed her arm. “Nurse Rachel! Do you remember me?!” Rachel jumped, looking at me in utter bewilderment. “Ma’am, do you have the wrong person?” “How could I have the wrong person?! You literally took photos with me this morning!” Rachel thought for a second, then shook her head, cutting me off. “I’ve been working the inpatient ward all morning. I wasn’t even in the outpatient clinic. Were you here for a prenatal exam?” I froze. “Then what about the female doctor who did my ultrasound?!” Rachel flipped through the clipboard on the desk. “All the attending ultrasound technicians on duty today are male. There are no female doctors on shift.” My brain exploded with a deafening ringing sound. A pregnant woman sitting nearby muttered to her husband, “Is she mentally ill?” “Probably drove herself crazy trying to get pregnant. My cousin did the same thing. Tried for three years, ended up having phantom pregnancies and hallucinating babies…” “Seriously, look at her stomach. It’s completely flat. Who is she trying to fool…” I ran into the hospital bathroom like a madwoman, lifted my shirt in front of the mirror, and stared at my stomach. Smooth. Flat. As if I had never been pregnant a day in my life. I slid down the wall of the bathroom stall, collapsing onto the tile floor. My mind was completely blank. No. This is wrong. I must have missed something. My phone rang. It was my mom. I scrambled to answer it. “Harper, did you get the lasagna I dropped off?” I opened my mouth, a desperate spark of hope igniting in my chest. “Mom… do you remember that I’m pregnant?” The line was silent for two seconds. Her voice came back laced with pure confusion. “Pregnant? Haven’t you and Liam been trying for over a year with no luck?” My hand gripping the phone began to shake violently. “Mom, I literally sent you my maternity photoshoot videos yesterday. Did you forget?!” My mom sounded even more confused. “No you didn’t, sweetie. You just called me saying you were craving lasagna. That’s all.” I opened my text messages. The videos in our chat history were gone. My mom’s voice filled with deep concern. “Harper, are you overworking yourself? Don’t put so much pressure on yourself, honey. A baby will come when the time is right…” Sitting on the cold bathroom floor, an icy chill seeped into my bones. Was I doomed to repeat this nightmare? Was I trapped in this impossible loop forever? No. I refuse to be a sitting duck! I splashed cold water on my face and marched out of the bathroom. I immediately heard a commotion down the hall. “That’s her. She’s the one harassing the staff…” “Call security. She’s clearly having a psychotic break…” I looked down the corridor. A crowd had formed outside the OB-GYN clinic. In the center, Liam was explaining something to a nurse. When he saw me, he rushed over. “Harper, where did you go? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” I stared at him. This man. We had been married for five years, and he had always been loving and perfect. Right now, his eyes were filled with nothing but profound worry and heartbreak. I stared dead into his pupils. “Liam, do you really not remember taking me for my prenatal checkup today?” Liam sighed heavily, reaching out to hold my hand. “Honey, let’s go home first. You need to rest, okay?” “Answer the question!” He paused, his eyes darting away for a fraction of a second. “Harper. You were never pregnant.” I closed my eyes. There it is. “Ma’am, please stop disrupting hospital operations.” Two security guards approached me. “We received a complaint that you are harassing medical staff. Please cooperate and leave the premises.” I took a step back. The hallway was full of people staring at me, whispering loudly. “What a shame. She’s so pretty, but completely out of her mind…” “I’ve seen cases like this. They all end up in a straightjacket…” “Her poor husband…” Liam stepped in front of me, speaking to the guards. “I am so sorry. My wife has been under extreme psychological stress lately. I’ll take her home right now.” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the exit. I followed mechanically, my brain totally numb. But right at that moment, I caught a glimpse of the digital calendar hanging on the lobby wall. I stopped dead in my tracks, grabbed the arm of a passing nurse, and asked, my voice trembling violently: “Is… is the date on that clock correct?” The nurse was startled by my intensity but answered anyway. “Yeah, it’s correct. Why?” So that was it! I finally understood why my baby was gone, and why there was absolutely zero trace of my pregnancy!

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Everyone said I married into the Thorne family purely on the strength of a pretty face and a well-timed bout of amnesia. That was until Professor Kyle Gilbert, A-University’s genius, invented a time machine and publicly suggested to my husband: “Aren’t you curious, Mr. Thorne, what your immaculately backgrounded wife looked like at eighteen?” My face paled. I forced a smile: “Don’t we all look a bit rough at eighteen? Nothing worth seeing. Let’s go, Sebastian.” I assumed Sebastian Thorne, with his usual composure, would flatly refuse such a farce. But the man simply didn’t move. His gaze swept past Kyle, finally resting on my stark white face, and he nodded: “Alright.” 1 Sebastian Thorne’s agreement caused a considerable stir in the room. I paused, slightly stunned. Then, I tried to lift the corners of my lips. “These newly invented machines, don’t they carry some potential risks? Maybe we should wait a few years until they’re safer to try…” My words were cut short by the genius’s calm interjection. “Mrs. Thorne, are you questioning my expertise?” Kyle Gilbert, A-University’s most brilliant graduate in recent years. Young, yet he had published numerous top-tier papers, at the forefront of various research fields. The time machine was his passion project, an invention he had poured years of effort into, presented to the public only after multiple tests. I breathed out a small smile: “Not at all.” “I just feel it’s unnecessary.” I looked at Sebastian, my voice soft: “You know, my parents passed away early, and I’ve finally gotten through that tough time. Of course, I don’t want to revisit those painful memories. Besides, all those forgotten memories between us, you’ve already taken me to relive them, haven’t you?” Sebastian was actually a calm and somewhat languid person. Five years my senior, he rarely forced me to do anything. But at this moment, he remained still. His eyes were fixed on my face, then calmly dropped to observe the tense lines on the back of my hand. He spoke with a casual air: “Eighteen-year-old you, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her.” I was momentarily stunned. Eighteen. The image that flashed in my mind wasn’t carefree youth. It was the spinning fan in the classroom, under which I could never comprehend the problems. The lewd jokes of boys, the teacher’s disdain, my boyfriend’s indifference. And my cousin’s cruel, beautiful face. What Sebastian wanted to see was my cousin, his vibrant young fiancée. The pretty girl who occasionally did unkind things, but with a sweet smile, she could win everyone’s affection. I never liked dark chocolate. Sebastian once asked me why. I just said I’d eaten too much as a child and grew tired of it. The truth was, when I was ten, my cousin had poured a whole cup of hot cocoa over my head in the bathroom, sweetly laughing: “Didn’t you tell Mom and Dad you wanted chocolate? Can’t let it go to waste!” Her followers held my head down. That was my first taste of chocolate, scalding hot and melting. It was sickeningly sweet, choking my throat, making me unable to utter a sound. Only tears streamed down. Looking up, all I could see were the four walls and her dazzling, radiant smile. My eyes looked very much like hers, so much so that even the small mole at the corner of my eye was in the exact same spot. This was why I later succeeded in impersonating her. Sebastian, after the fact, most loved to kiss the redness at the corner of my eyes. He always said that even though I’d been lost for so many years, those eyes were still as beautiful as when he first saw them. For five years of marriage, I had never been exposed. I composed my emotions, took a deep breath: “Just eighteen, we have photos at home, don’t we? I’ll dig them out for you when we get back.” “But I want to see for myself,” the man’s gaze shifted from the miniature time machine back to me, his voice slightly rising at the end, as if genuinely curious, “A well-behaved, studious girl, sounds quite appealing.” 2 “Well-behaved, studious.” I smiled, watching Sebastian Thorne’s Maybach drive further and further away towards his company, then my expression completely crumbled. Every single word of that description was utterly unlike me. Turning around, I saw the A-University genius. His silhouette was even more imposing than before, dark, messy hair covering his prominent brow. Only that cold, detached aura remained unchanged. This machine was clearly aimed at me. I followed him to a secluded spot. The man’s tall frame completely blocked the last ray of light in the corner. “What exactly do you want?” I pushed him hard, but couldn’t budge him. Instead, he grabbed my wrist and pressed me against the wall. Kyle Gilbert’s gaze traced every inch of my features, his eyes churning with dark, unreadable emotions. After a long moment, he coldly uttered two words: “Get back together.” For a moment, I didn’t understand what he meant. He deigned to repeat it, his voice clear and cold: “I said, break up with him, and then we get back together. I can accept you standing by my side.” I found it absurd. “Kyle Gilbert, do you know what you’re saying?” “Of course,” he stared at me, emphasizing calmly, “Iris Hayes, only I know who the real you is. As long as you break up with him, I can guarantee that the time machine won’t expose your secret.” In the silent, breathless staring match, I abruptly pushed him away. “Kyle Gilbert, what do you take me for?” I glared at him, my breath slightly trembling, confirming each word: “Wasn’t it you who coldly said we should break up back then?” He pressed his lips together, silent, his dark eyes showing little emotion. That same indifferent expression, just like ten years ago. Back then, when my cousin and I tied for first place in the English competition, as the student council president, he gave the scholarship to my cousin. He said Olivia Thorne had just lost her parents, and her family was penniless; she needed that money for college. And my grades were so poor that I was destined not to stand at the same level as him. “Iris Hayes, neither I nor anyone else has an obligation to bear your useless and wasteful life.” “If your college entrance exam results come out and you don’t get into the same university as me, then we’re destined not to be on the same path.” At that time, I truly hated Kyle Gilbert, so much so that whenever I thought of it later, I wanted to loudly question him. If the definition of a partner was a like-minded fellow traveler, then why did he pursue me, the bad student? Seeing me bring up old matters, Kyle Gilbert’s eyes merely flickered, his voice still showing little fluctuation: “I just made the best choice at the time. That money, even if I gave it to you, would only be thrown into your mother’s exorbitant medical bills. What would be the point?” He was still so rational to the point of cruelty, stating his reasons so openly, as if certain I wouldn’t care. “Get back together with me, and all my money can be yours. I’ve achieved enough; I don’t need a partner to stand by me. I just need you.” The man’s gaze was fervent and dark. But I only found it amusing, so amusing that my heart didn’t even ache. I pushed his hand away, and through the haze of tears in my eyes, stubbornly told him: “Then you’re wrong, Kyle Gilbert. That scholarship, I cared about it deeply. I’ll never get over it.” I pushed him away and turned to leave. The man stared at my retreating back and suddenly spoke: “What if I gave you the justice you wanted?” People always romanticize the path not taken. Kyle Gilbert always believed that was the best choice back then. But since I found it so hard to accept, he wouldn’t mind letting that event replay, letting me get what I called “absolute fairness.” 3 Back at the mansion, Martha had already filled the bathtub with hot water. When Sebastian returned, I still had my head submerged in the now-cold water. The man’s distinctly veined hand gripped the back of my neck, pulling me up, a hint of amusement in his narrow eyes: “Trying to drown yourself?” I didn’t speak, so he asked, “Still mad?” I turned my face away awkwardly. “No.” “Then why are you so resistant? After all, aren’t you curious what kind of person you were before you lost your memory?” Seeing that I still wouldn’t utter a sound, he simply good-naturedly ruffled my head, casually reminiscing: “Speaking of which, the first time I saw you at nineteen, you also used to sulk like this often, willful and unrestrained. You insisted on fulfilling our family’s engagement and marrying me, and even wanted to follow me to study abroad. If it wasn’t for later—” He stopped there. If my cousin hadn’t fallen into the ocean on our engagement day. They would have already walked down the aisle. It wasn’t until a few years later, while he was on vacation on a small island, that he unexpectedly found me, disguised as his amnesiac cousin. The bathroom was filled with mist. The man’s palm gently rested on the back of my head, drawing us closer. His voice was low: “Do you know, Olivia, I can never quite connect the current you with the you before your memory loss.” “I’ve always wondered what kind of trauma made you such a careful and gentle person, so gentle that I can no longer read your heart.” He gently rubbed his forehead against mine, almost a whisper: “Was your former personality a pretense?” “Perhaps by understanding more of your past, I can know which version of you, the former or the present, loves me more?” The miniature time machine lying in his palm glowed red. My pupils constricted. I had no time to stop him. The next second, his long finger moved. Click. We both plunged back ten years. 4 How did that time machine end up in Sebastian’s hands? I gazed at my own delicate, childlike face in the mirror, closing my eyes in despair. Taking off my wedding ring, I walked out of the restroom. Two or three students in school uniforms chatted and joked in the hallway. I pursed my lips and walked through them, inevitably hearing the boys’ lewd whistles. “Iris, class is starting! Hurry!” The class president called to me from the door of Class 18. —Iris Hayes. My mind wavered. My mother gave birth to me in the lush midsummer. She hoped I would always be as vibrant as the grass and trees. How long had it been since I heard someone call my name? It seemed to have started when I decided to impersonate Olivia Thorne and marry into the affluent family. But life with Sebastian Thorne wasn’t actually too bad. He was assertive and unyielding at work, but at home, he was a lazy, aloof cat. On slow afternoons, he loved to curl up with me to watch movies, tend to the balcony plants, or nap on my lap. Sometimes, he was even willing to learn a dish I wanted to eat, step by step, following a tutorial. I truly couldn’t say anything bad about him. Except, the person he loved wasn’t me. Outside, the sunlight was blinding. I suppressed the slight bitterness in my heart and walked into the classroom. The oppressive, narrow space carried the sweaty smell of boys who had just finished gym class, and even the cicadas outside sounded particularly monotonous. This was my most hated eighteen. In English class, I wasn’t paying much attention, just propping my head up, annoyed, trying to figure out how to avoid meeting Sebastian. A few girls in the back row were whispering, discussing how the organizer of this English competition was a young, wealthy, repatriated entrepreneur who had even visited our school that morning. “I just passed by and glanced. He’s really an expat, so tall and handsome. The principal arranged for him to be given a tour by a school history guide, and as soon as he got the list, he picked Olivia Thorne’s name.” “Why not Iris? Didn’t those two tie for first in the English competition?” Someone snorted, disdainfully: “Olivia Thorne is so excellent, isn’t it logical to pick her? Unlike this one in our class, who attracts too much attention, she really thinks getting high scores qualifies her as the top student.” I slowly blinked, finally realizing the exact time period. It was precisely when Olivia and I had participated in the English competition, tied for first place, and were deciding who should get the scholarship. But in my memory, this entrepreneur never appeared. 5 In the VIP lounge. The principal was pouring tea for the distinguished man before him, apologizing with a smile: “Mr. Thorne, you didn’t notify us of your early arrival; our preparations are quite inadequate.” The man’s gaze was fixed on the tea leaves floating in his cup, as if deep in thought: “It’s nothing. I only came to see someone, to confirm something.” Soon after, the class president brought back news, saying that Olivia Thorne was resting in the dorm due to menstrual cramps and couldn’t serve as the school history guide. The principal apologized, asking, “Would you like to choose someone else?” Sebastian Thorne looked at the two high-scoring exam papers on the table, then reached out and flipped over the other one, noticing the boldly written name. He raised an eyebrow and asked, “Iris Hayes?” “Yes, Iris Hayes,” the principal quickly smiled. “Although she’s in the lower-achieving class, her English is excellent. She even tied for first place with Olivia Thorne in this competition.” “And according to other students, she’s been memorizing vocabulary in the hallway every morning at 5:30 AM for the past few months! A very diligent child; she won’t disappoint you.” The man pondered for a moment: “Two first-place ties, but why did only Olivia Thorne receive the scholarship?” “This… this… to be honest, we were just about to address that matter.” Seeing the principal hesitate, Sebastian lost interest in pressing further. After all, he wasn’t someone who particularly liked to meddle. Three days, for him, was still too short. Sebastian glanced at his wristwatch and suddenly asked his assistant, “What’s the date today?” “August 1st, Mr. Thorne. Is there something wrong?” Early August. Not quite the same time as his wife’s menstrual cycle. But she had fallen into the sea and suffered shock-induced amnesia. Sebastian didn’t dwell on such details. The man paused in thought, then instructed, “Go buy some brown sugar water and heat patches.” “You mean to say?” The principal asked hesitantly. The man tucked in his long legs, stood up, and politely nodded: “I won’t tour the school history museum. You have important matters to attend to, so I won’t disturb you.” “I’ll meet the scholarship recipient, and then I’ll leave.” 6 The bell for class dismissal rang, and I was hesitating whether or not to go find Kyle Gilbert. After all, just sitting around waiting wasn’t an option. He had promised me he wouldn’t expose my secret. Suddenly, the class president tapped me, asking me to go to the office. As soon as I entered, all the teachers and students were there—the principal, the homeroom teacher, the invigilator, the students who sat around me at the time, and Kyle Gilbert. The young man wore the student council president’s uniform, his shoulders broad, his legs long, as cold and aloof as I remembered. He merely glanced at me, then brought up the surveillance video from that day on his computer, displaying it for everyone. “Since Iris Hayes has an objection to this scholarship evaluation, we will re-evaluate it, with no favoritism towards anyone.” With just one look, I recognized him—Kyle Gilbert, also from ten years in the future. The fairness I had tearfully demanded years ago, he was now specifically giving me with a time machine. In the office, the young man’s voice was not loud. He looked at me, questioning me clearly, word by word: “After the listening portion of the recording ended, the invigilator had already announced to stop answering. Iris Hayes, why didn’t you put down your pen?” My breath caught; I froze. 7 Under everyone’s piercing gazes, I slowly, inch by inch, clenched my fingers: “I was checking if I had filled in the answer sheet incorrectly.” “And if you had found a mistake, what then?” Kyle Gilbert’s voice was flat, yet his words were almost accusatory, “Were you going to violate exam rules and make alterations?” “No,” I said. As soon as the words left my mouth, Kyle Gilbert expressionlessly tossed my answer sheet onto the table, pointing at the still-unwiped pencil marks, and said: “For the last question of the listening comprehension, you originally chose A, but the moment before the invigilator collected the papers, you glanced to the left front, then secretly changed it to B, just like Olivia Thorne.” “Iris Hayes, do you admit this point?” The bit of ignoble secret in my heart had nowhere to hide under the bright, fervent sunlight outside the window. I remained silent, unwilling to speak. Kyle Gilbert asked me one last time, his gaze scrutinizing: “Yes, or no.” In the quiet, spacious office, my gaze was fixed on the floor, and I painstakingly uttered: “No.” In the face of such evidence, any defense seemed pale. But I still slowly and stubbornly spoke: “I didn’t peek at Olivia’s paper.” “I was just looking at the clock. The exam room clock was half a minute fast, and I was checking if there was still time to make changes.” “Looking at the clock? Iris Hayes, how much credibility do you think that excuse has?” Kyle Gilbert sneered, pressing closer, as if he wouldn’t stop until this accusation was pinned on me. Even the principal, at this moment, sternly spoke: “Malice will only harm yourself in the end, Iris Hayes. I hope you’ll be honest.” “I didn’t, the exam room clock was half a minute fast, you’re being unfair!” My voice was loud, my eyes red-rimmed, as if I wanted to vent all the years of indignation. Again, the word “fairness.” Kyle Gilbert beside me impatiently closed his eyes. But where in the world is there absolute fairness? “Then is that half-minute you overran fair to Olivia Thorne? And fair to the other students? The surveillance now shows you cheated in violation of regulations. Do you want to tell me what ‘fairness’ even means?” The young man’s questions came one after another, so sharp they left me speechless. I stared at him blankly, my eyes slowly welling up. I suddenly found I couldn’t understand him anymore. “Didn’t you say it, Kyle Gilbert?” My voice was very soft, stubbornly confirming this with him. “Our school clock was half a minute fast.” The atmosphere dropped to zero. The young man’s thin lips gradually tightened into a cold, flat line. The homeroom teacher hesitantly spoke: “Didn’t Kyle already have someone adjust that clock?” The silent air was broken by that sentence. My face went pale, my body rigid. I couldn’t utter another word. The fairness I had desperately pursued suddenly seemed ridiculous at this moment. Just then, a student suddenly ran in, breathless. “Principal, Mr. Thorne is back. He said he wants to see you again.”

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At the engagement party, just to cheer up a junior I knew who was battling cancer, Julian snapped off every single one of my freshly manicured nails. “Girls are vain and have short tempers; they can’t stand anyone else stealing the spotlight,” he said, a patronizing smirk playing on his lips. “She saw your nails and threw a fit, demanding the same design. But she’s in a critical phase of chemotherapy; we can’t just let her do whatever she wants.” My fingertips throbbed, a searing pain that brought tears streaming down my face, smudging my makeup. But he didn’t stop. Instead, he pointed at my streaked eyeliner, chuckling, and snapped a picture. “From wedding to funeral! Thanks for your cameo as the zombie bride, [redacted for localization]!” His junior, Kate, then posted the photo online, mocking me and turning me into a laughingstock. Julian actually tried to tell me to be more understanding. “It’s just a joke, why are you arguing with a sick person?” he said, his voice laced with annoyance. “It’s rare for Kate to be so happy. I’ll give you a thousand dollars. Tomorrow, shave your head too.” I stared at his self-righteous face. No tears, no outbursts. I simply canceled the engagement and arranged my studies abroad, all in one swift motion. “Just because I smiled a few times, you want to break up?” Julian asked, utterly bewildered. I nodded. “Yes, exactly because of that.” 1. For years, as childhood sweethearts, I never imagined it would come to this. Julian, who had always treated me like a precious treasure, would brutally break my nails for a junior who meant nothing to him. “This is what you deserve.” He loomed over me, his voice dripping with disgust. “Did you really think I don’t understand women’s petty games?” “Kate’s delicate, her face swollen from her illness, unable to wear makeup or dress up. You knew she had body image issues, yet you insisted on having her as a bridesmaid, deliberately standing beside her, radiant and beautiful. Weren’t you just trying to humiliate her, to push her to her death?” Stage lights flickered, illuminating my bleeding fingers. Tears fell silently. This meticulously planned engagement party was supposed to be the celebration of my love. But because of Kate, I had to appear barefaced, without any makeup or elaborate hairstyle. The custom-made gown I’d chosen months ago had been replaced, seemingly as a cruel prank, with a somber black dress. “Kate is seriously ill; you need to be patient with her.” This was Julian’s constant refrain. He knew I was suffering immense injustice. He knew Kate wasn’t as innocent as she seemed. Yet, he indulged her every whim, letting her cross my boundaries again and again. Even when Kate slipped something into my drink before the ceremony, he excused it as youthful mischief, a momentary impulse. “Why would a living person compete with someone who’s dying?” he’d pleaded. “Considering Kate might not have many years left, be generous, just let her have her way.” I was deeply disappointed and wanted to storm out right then and there. But Julian softened his tone, taking my hand and promising, “My kindness to Kate is purely out of a mentor’s responsibility. I’ll keep anyone who offends you far away. After the engagement, I’ll send her to a hospice. After that, her life or death will be none of my concern.” He spoke with such apparent sincerity. I couldn’t abandon two decades of shared history. So, I swallowed my pride, looking disheveled and worn, as I toasted the guests. When we reached Kate’s table, she stared at my freshly done manicure, then suddenly covered her face and burst into tears. “Oh, Julian, I wish I could be healthy!” she cried, her voice trembling. “Even someone as plain as her has the right to look nice. And I’m still so young, yet I can’t even use skincare products, let alone get a manicure!” She sobbed pitifully, her small frame shaking as if she might collapse at any second. “Kate!” Julian’s face darkened, his gaze filled with hatred as he looked at me. “Alice, I truly misjudged you. To secure your position as Mrs. Sterling, you’ll stoop to any dirty trick.” “What good does it do you to drive Kate insane? She’s already suffered enough, orphaned and alone, working her way through college, only to be struck down by a terminal illness just as her life was beginning!” he ranted. “Life is unfair. If only it were you who was dying!” His vicious words pierced my chest like a thousand blades. I stood frozen, my blood running cold. “Julian, you are my fiancé,” I said, gripping my trembling hand, trying to suppress the stinging in my eyes. “You’re siding with an outsider, humiliating me in front of everyone. Is this what you call love?” Julian froze. He saw my tears, heard the guests’ whispers. Instinctively, he wanted to soothe me, but Kate clung to him, stopping him. “Julian, if you choose her, I’ll stop my medication and leave the hospital tomorrow!” she wailed. “You promised you’d never abandon me, no matter what!” In the silent tension, Julian hesitated, his expression shifting from internal struggle to cold resolve. “I’m sorry, Alice.” He had made his choice. He grabbed my hand, avoiding my reddened eyes. In front of all the guests, without even a pair of scissors, he snapped off my nails. “I told you, no showing off at the engagement party,” he muttered, his voice cold. “You were in the wrong here. If I don’t teach you a lesson, Kate will resent me.” The sharp pain spread through my entire body. Looking at Julian’s determined profile, I distinctly heard something shatter within me. “Twenty-two years,” I said, staring at him. “Twenty-two years we’ve known each other, and this is how you treat me.” He pretended not to hear, showing no sign of softening. Instead, amidst the teasing cheers of his friends, he let out a couple of strained laughs. “Don’t be mad, they’ll grow back. Just think of it as making Kate happy. You haven’t really lost anything.” Kate, camera in hand, also leaned in, smirking. “Good women don’t need manicures. Julian’s doing it for your own good. Come on, let’s take a group photo! Such a dramatic moment, everyone should see it!” The crowd erupted in laughter, aiming their cameras at my bare, mangled fingers, snapping pictures relentlessly. My heart had completely turned to ice. I didn’t cry. I simply watched everything with a blank stare. Then, I pulled off my engagement ring and threw it at Julian’s face. “The engagement is off. From this day forward, you and I are strangers.” 2. With the main character gone, the much-anticipated engagement party ended abruptly and chaotically. I went back to my dorm alone, bandaged my fingers, and started packing. Many things were already prepared, meant for moving into our shared home after graduation and the engagement. Now, it was all unnecessary. Kate even posted on social media: “Julian, my hero, saved me! I can only repay him by giving myself to him.” The accompanying picture showed her wearing my silk pajamas, sitting on the bed I’d picked out for our home, embracing Julian with her face pressed against his. Someone commented below: “Isn’t Julian with Alice from the finance department? Did he switch fiancées?” Kate immediately replied: “Good men are for the taking. Alice couldn’t hold onto him, so he fell into my lap, didn’t he? Just to be clear, I’m not a home-wrecker. I’m just doing what’s right.” I refreshed the page, and the post was gone. I had no desire to argue with her. But as I packed away a framed family photo from my desk, Julian’s relentless defense of Kate brought a wave of sorrow. Julian always talked about how pathetic Kate was. But he forgot that my parents died young, my relatives moved in, and I lived like a ghost for years, scrubbing laundry for an entire family in the dead of winter, my fingers raw and bleeding, the scars etched deep into my bones. It was Julian who pulled me from that hell. He fought for my inheritance, battled for custody, and when he tended to my wounds, his tears fell like rain on my palms. “As long as I live, no one will dare mistreat you.” Such a precious promise from our youth. I believed in his sincerity, believed I was irreplaceable. Now, it seemed, I was nothing more than a fleeting distraction. “Are you still mad?” Julian asked, finally calling me after I hadn’t come home for days. He clearly felt he’d pushed things too far. “It was just a joke. You’re not going to be this petty, are you?” “Kate is young and hot-headed; she gets carried away. I was afraid of making a scene, and even more afraid she’d have an accident if she got too upset. That’s why…” Blood rushed to my head, and I slammed my phone down, unable to control my shout. “Just because she’s sick, I deserve to be walked all over?” “Don’t make excuses. I can see it. Kate likes you, and your feelings for her are more than just a mentor’s concern.” Caught red-handed, Julian became enraged. “So what if it’s true? Kate is innocent and sweet, never fighting for anything. She doesn’t have long to live, and her last wish is just a little affection from me. Why shouldn’t I give it to her?” “Alice, you’re so selfish. Haven’t I been under your thumb for over a decade? Do I need your permission to care about someone now?” My heart bled. I blinked through swollen eyes, wanting to say something, but in the end, I just fell silent. I mailed back all the love letters and gifts Julian had given me over the years. Along with the dust-covered house we’d planned to share, I transferred it to a real estate agent. “You’re really cruel.” Julian’s anger turned into a mocking laugh. “Alice, you’re an orphan. You haven’t had a real home in years. I was willing to marry you, to give you all the security you needed, materially and emotionally. It’s just one Kate, what’s the big deal?” Seeing my unwavering resolve to cut ties, Julian’s temper flared. “Fine, break up! Am I begging you to marry me?” He tossed the engagement ring down the drain, demanded I reimburse him for all our shared expenses, and then blacklisted me from every company in the city. “Come back when you realize your mistake,” he said coldly. “Without me, who’s going to care about you?” I didn’t back down. I struggled to make a life for myself under the immense pressure, watching coldly as he took Kate on trips around the world, indulging in lavish escapades. “Julian says he doesn’t want me to have any regrets in life,” Kate’s social media feed updated daily. She flaunted their affection, making sure I saw it. “A chapel in Switzerland, with the priest as our witness. I’m the most beautiful bride in my lover’s eyes.” “Even though we don’t have a marriage certificate, Julian is willing to humor me, and that’s enough.” No one liked her posts. Everyone knew that this doting “mentor” had once been my fiancé. Only Julian’s comment hung there, solitary and exposed: “Illness can’t take away memories; you are my eternal moonlight.” Thanks to these two, I became the laughingstock of the entire university. Everywhere I went, I was pointed at and whispered about. “She hasn’t even married into money yet, and she’s already been cast aside.” “She doesn’t have the fortune to match her airs, but she acts like she’s too good for everyone.” “No wonder Julian didn’t want her. You wouldn’t even take a woman like that if she were free.” The rumors swirled around me, but I pretended not to hear them. It wasn’t until the list for graduate school admissions was posted, and my name was replaced by Kate’s, that I realized the full extent of Julian’s malice. He was truly trying to destroy me. “Kate wanted this spot, so I gave it to her,” he said, looking down at me condescendingly. “You weren’t exactly kind to her before, so consider this your apology. From now on, coexist peacefully and don’t stir up trouble for me.” 3. I stood there, stunned and disbelieving. “You reported me for academic fraud?” Julian’s eyes darted away, unable to meet my gaze. “Studying for her master’s was Kate’s dream. She worked so hard, from early mornings to late nights, she barely even ate.” “And you know, she’s a cancer patient. If she keeps pushing herself like that, how will her body cope?” Apparently convinced of his own logic, Julian straightened his posture. He pulled out a black credit card and threw it at my face. “Anyway, you don’t have anything to do, so why don’t you go to the hospital and take care of Kate?” “Your parents also died of cancer, so you have experience. Being a caregiver would suit you. There’s a thousand dollars on the card; I’ll add more if it’s not enough. And remember to cut your hair. Kate can’t stand anyone prettier than her.” Julian’s tone was self-righteous. I felt like I had plunged into an ice-cold abyss. The last flicker of hope in my heart completely extinguished. “Julian, you treat me with such contempt. Is it because you think I have no way to retaliate, or because you’re so sure I’m soft-hearted and will always give in to you?” I stared at him coldly, my voice like ice. “Asking me to care for your mistress? Aren’t you afraid that in my anger, I might add something to her medication, ending up with two deaths?” Julian’s face went pale, his eyes filled with a guilty flicker. “How did you know Kate was pregnant…?” I curled my lips into a cold smile. Julian thought I was too stupid. I had seen him when he loved me, so when he became distant and distraught over someone else, I was the first to notice. “Stop pretending to be so devoted. It’s disgusting.” I slapped the ultrasound report onto Julian’s face. The evidence was undeniable, leaving no room for argument. “You two got together years ago, when I recommended Kate for that work-study position in the lab.” “You used to tell me I was too suspicious, checking your phone and questioning your whereabouts constantly, treating you like a child.” “But honestly, was I wrong to check?” My nose stung, and I fought back tears, sneering. “You cheated first, driving me to the brink of madness, and now you blame me for not being magnanimous enough.” Julian was speechless. “It’s not what you think.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “That day, the hospital sent a chemo notification, Kate was upset and had too much to drink. She insisted on experiencing what it was like to be in love, and I just couldn’t refuse her.” Even he seemed embarrassed by his own words. After a moment of stammering, he finally promised, “If it bothers you, the baby doesn’t have to exist.”

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My company clawed its way up from a back-alley workshop to an industry titan, and it was all thanks to me – the cornerstone who raked in billions. The entire company treated me like royalty. My boss, overflowing with gratitude, publicly promised me free rein over any resource I wanted, no questions asked, no corporate red tape. But the new agent didn’t get the memo. She didn’t just reassign all my high-end endorsements to a rookie; she even made me hold the train of her new favorite starlet on the red carpet. Her reasoning? “Washed-up old-timers should make way for new talent. You’re just a background player now.” I nodded, posted a quick message on social media, packed my bags, and walked out. The next day, my boss rushed back overnight, bringing her along, and they both knelt outside my door. My social media post had been liked and pinned by the CEO of a rival media company, rocketing to the top of the trending topics. 1 “V&G’s global ambassador for this fall’s collection? The company’s decided to sign Lily next month.” Eliza Braga. A golden-ticket agent who’d parachuted into the company three days ago. She slid a termination agreement across the table towards me. V&G – a top-tier luxury brand I’d represented as their Asia-Pacific face for five years. And Lily? She’d only just made a tiny splash after two web series. A fresh face the company had just signed. Eliza saw I was still leaning back in my chair, unmoving, and lifted her chin. “Summer Hayes, you’ve peaked. But for the company to grow, we need to cultivate new talent.” “Lily has immense potential. This endorsement will help her quickly gain national recognition. As a member of this company, you have an obligation to cooperate.” I finally lifted my gaze to meet hers. “Is this Arthur’s decision?” Arthur Price. The company’s CEO. Back when Starlight Entertainment couldn’t even make payroll, I worked grueling shifts for zero pay, filming countless projects back-to-back, pulling the company back from the brink of bankruptcy. I alone was responsible for ninety percent of the company’s revenue. It’s safe to say Starlight wouldn’t be where it is today without me, Summer Hayes. Just last year, at the annual gala, Arthur had publicly declared to the entire company that I could use any resource I wanted, with no one to interfere. But Eliza, seeing me invoke the CEO’s name, merely scoffed. “Mr. Price is a busy man. For trivial matters like this, I, as an agent, can decide. He entrusted your contract to me, which shows his faith in my professional judgment.” She pulled out a rather simple script from her bag and placed it on top of the endorsement termination agreement. “Of course, the company won’t mistreat you. There’s a short series project here; you can pick any role you like. While it’s a short series, the production team is quite competent. Do well, and you could still make waves.” Me, a top-tier, multi-award-winning actress, starring in an unknown short series? The audacity. I couldn’t be bothered with her. I just picked up my phone and dialed Arthur’s number. It rang five or six times before he picked up. “Summer, why are you calling so early?” I cut straight to the chase: “The new agent has pulled my high-end endorsement, saying she wants to use it as a stepping stone for Lily. I just want to confirm, is this your decision?” There was a noticeable pause on the other end. After a moment, Arthur cleared his throat. “Summer, Eliza mentioned this to me yesterday. You know, the company needs to nurture fresh blood. You’re not short on endorsements, are you? It’s not worth arguing over a little piece of the pie with a young girl.” The back of my hand, gripping the phone, tensed, veins protruding. “Arthur, are you really going with this?” He chuckled awkwardly. “Eliza’s new; you should give her some respect, don’t always act like the untouchable star. Let’s think about the bigger picture. I’m still with some investors on the golf course. We’ll talk when I get back to the office later, alright?” The call was abruptly ended. Eliza watched me, perfectly composed, a smirk playing on her lips. “Hear that?” “Your track record used to be impressive, but this year’s just begun. You need to face reality and stop thinking the company can’t function without you. Mr. Price handed me your full contract, so I have the authority to plan all your work. This endorsement, you will give it up today. And this series, you will join the cast.” Eliza and her entourage stormed out. I stared at Arthur’s name on my phone, then removed him from my starred contacts. Afterward, I instructed my assistant, Ashley: “Find my contract and all associated agreements from over the years. Every single one.” 2 The next day, at the Starlight Gala red carpet. In previous years, my gown would be the top design of the season, flown in and attended to by personal stylists. But this year, my dressing room was still empty moments before it was time to leave. Ashley was frantic, making countless calls, only to get the same reply: “Agent Braga is arranging it; please wait.” Just then, the dressing room door swung open. Eliza walked in, her heels clicking, followed by Lily, resplendent in a shimmering, starry gown. I recognized that dress—it was the very same top-tier haute couture piece confirmed to me in photos, a global exclusive. Lily smiled at me, her face brimming with smugness. “Summer, isn’t this dress just gorgeous? Eliza said I’d shine on the red carpet tonight.” Eliza eyed her creation with satisfaction, then pulled out a garment bag. “Considering Lily’s commercial value, the company decided, after careful deliberation, to give the haute couture to her. This is your gown. Time’s almost up, hurry and change!” Ashley took the bag and opened it. Inside was a black, long dress, outdated in style, and utterly unremarkable. It had even been worn before by some third-rate actress. Ashley’s eyes welled up with anger. “Agent Braga, what is this? Summer can’t wear this!” “And why not?” Eliza’s face immediately darkened. “The company treats everyone equally. Given her current status, this is perfectly suitable. What’s wrong with an older design? It’s still haute couture, paid for by the company. Smaller companies would kill for it! The red carpet is about to start. If you don’t change, the damage to the company, you won’t be able to afford even if you’re all fired!” “You—” I pulled back a fuming Ashley, merely gazing at my reflection in the mirror. Fifteen minutes later, I had changed into the black dress. Eliza scrutinized me, then sneered. “Not bad. This color will be perfect for accentuating Lily.” I ignored her. But unexpectedly, just before we were about to go out, she grabbed me again. Eliza pointed to Lily’s gown. “Lily’s train is too long. The red carpet will be crowded, and it wouldn’t do for someone to step on it. You’re just a plus-one today, so you can help her hold up her train. Taking care of junior colleagues is also something you should do.” At her words, the room fell silent. Ashley’s face flushed crimson, her fists clenched. “Eliza Braga, don’t you dare go too far! Make a top-tier star hold the train for a rookie, in front of everyone? You’re deliberately trying to humiliate Summer!” I stopped Ashley from exploding. Looking at Eliza, I asked, each word deliberate, “Is this Arthur’s decision too?” Eliza smirked, her triumph evident. “Mr. Price specifically instructed that all red carpet arrangements tonight are to be handled by me. Your job is to be a background player, to fully support the new talent. The company’s PR statements have already been sent out. If you don’t cooperate, I’ll have no choice but to freeze all your endorsements and contracts for insubordination. Summer Hayes, everything you have is currently in the company’s hands. I don’t care what privileges you had before; from now on, you must comply with all company decisions.” I clenched my jaw. I dialed Arthur’s number again. The phone rang for a long time, but no one answered. This was the first time in all these years that he hadn’t picked up my call. Meeting Eliza’s triumphant gaze, I lowered my eyes and nodded. “Alright.” As soon as the red carpet event ended, the topic “Washed-up Star Summer Hayes Holds Train for Rookie” soared to the top of the trending topics. On social media, my fans and Lily’s fans were engaged in a fierce war of words. Yet, the company’s PR department did nothing, allowing the controversy to escalate. In just one short hour, Lily’s followers surged by several million! 3 The red carpet drama was still unfolding. The next morning, Eliza called me into her office again. She was in excellent spirits and even offered me a cup of tea. “Last night’s event was quite effective. Lily’s national recognition skyrocketed overnight.” Next, she pushed another script towards me. “Strike while the iron’s hot. This series, I want you to mentor her through it.” The script’s cover bore two bold words: Chasing Light. The author, Clara Vance, was a dear friend of mine for ten years, and now one of the hottest literary sensations in the online fiction world. Every story she penned became a hit, making her work incredibly valuable commercially. Chasing Light was her passion project, and also a gift she wrote for my thirtieth birthday. She explicitly stated that the film and TV rights would only be sold to my company, and only I would play the leading role. Eliza clearly knew the weight of this series, a smile playing on her lips. “Clara’s team has confirmed; the rights will be signed to Starlight. The company has decided to make this series a top-tier, S+ project this year.” She paused, tapping her finger on the script. “However, for the leading lady, the company has new considerations. Lily’s image aligns very well with the character’s early stages, so the company plans to cast her. As for you, you can play the supporting female lead. It’s a very likable character, and it shouldn’t be too challenging for you.” I almost laughed at her audacity. Using a gift from my friend to promote a rookie, and then expecting me to play second fiddle to her? “Eliza Braga, you’re dreaming.” “This is the company’s decision,” she said, unfazed. “As a member of the company, for the company’s growth, you must comply.” Soon after she left, my phone rang. It was Clara, her voice filled with barely suppressed fury. “Summer, is that Eliza Braga at your company insane? She just called me, saying Chasing Light is for Lily to play the lead, and for you to play the second lead! I refused on the spot, told her no one but you would play the lead in this script, or I’d rather let it rot on my computer! And then guess what that woman said?” “She said I’d already sold the rights to Starlight, so Starlight calls the shots now. And that I’m just a writer, I shouldn’t think too highly of myself!” Clara was panting with rage. “Not only did she insult me, she also said you’re a washed-up actress now, lucky to even get a role, so I shouldn’t be picky! The worst part is, I called Arthur, and he actually played coy with me! Said it was all for the company’s development??? Has he forgotten how the company started? What an idiot!” I gripped my phone, my knuckles white from the pressure. I remembered years ago. Back then, I was a nobody. The company was on the verge of bankruptcy. I landed a cosmetics endorsement and excitedly called Arthur to share the good news. That day, he was even more thrilled than I was, getting completely drunk at the celebration dinner. He grabbed my hand, his eyes red-rimmed, repeating over and over: “Summer, you’re the savior of our company! From now on, the company is your home, and I’m your big brother! Do whatever you want, and if anyone dares to give you a hard time, I’ll be the first to go after them!” His excitement and sincerity back then felt like yesterday. But now, it had become so alien. At this moment, the last shred of sentiment I held for him was completely severed. “Clara, don’t be angry yet. Chasing Light was just a verbal agreement back then; I deliberately delayed the paperwork. Since they’re being dishonorable, don’t blame us for finding another company to work with!” After hanging up, I scrolled through my contacts to another name: Danny Vance. The CEO of Stellar Media, and Starlight Entertainment’s biggest competitor. For three years, he’d tried to poach me no less than a hundred times. The phone was answered almost instantly, Danny’s deep voice coming through. “Summer Hayes? What a rare treat.” I got straight to the point: “Mr. Vance, I’m bringing Clara and all the rights to Chasing Light to sign with Stellar. There’s only one condition: I must be the lead actress in this series.” Silence on the other end for three seconds, followed by a soft chuckle from Danny. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that for three years. I agree to all your conditions. Just come, without worry.” 4 The next morning, the news of Chasing Light officially announcing Summer Hayes as its lead actress, personally released by screenwriter Clara Vance, instantly captivated the entire internet. My fans celebrated, overjoyed to tears. The general public also expressed immense anticipation for this explosive combination. The topic quickly climbed, directly topping the trending charts. Arthur Price, on a business trip in a neighboring city, saw the news—my photo with Clara and the overwhelming praise. He immediately messaged me: “Summer, such great news about Chasing Light having a press conference, why didn’t you tell me in advance? As your boss, I must be there to support you.” I looked at the message, didn’t reply, and just turned off my phone. The next morning, at the press conference. I was holding the microphone, thanking Clara for her trust and the company for its support, when the back door of the venue suddenly opened. Arthur, with Eliza Braga in tow, strode in confidently, beaming. He walked directly onto the stage and naturally took the microphone from the host. “Hello everyone, I’m Arthur Price from Starlight Entertainment. Summer is our company’s most outstanding artist, and Chasing Light is our most important core project this year. Starlight will spare no effort to invest all resources to present the best possible work to everyone.” He spoke with grandiloquent enthusiasm, but the media in the audience exchanged bewildered glances. Finally, a reporter couldn’t help but raise a hand and ask, “Mr. Price, aren’t you mistaken? As far as we know, the production company for Chasing Light is Stellar Media. And today’s press conference is also hosted by Stellar Media.” Arthur’s smile froze. He stared blankly at me, then at the massive Stellar Media logo below the stage. Just then, Danny Vance slowly emerged from backstage and stood beside me. He took the microphone, offering Arthur a slight smile. “Mr. Price, I believe you are mistaken. Today, Stellar Media is holding a welcome ceremony and new series launch press conference for our newly signed actress, Ms. Summer Hayes.” Danny paused, his gaze sweeping across the entire room. It finally settled on Arthur and Eliza’s pale faces. “Oh, and by the way, I’d like to extend a special thanks to Mr. Price. If it weren’t for your short-sightedness, your self-sabotage, in handing over such an excellent actress and such a top-tier project to us, Stellar would never have had the chance to pick up such a massive bargain.”

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My left eye can see ghosts. My boyfriend took me home to meet his parents. I eagerly offered to wash the dishes, but some dish soap splashed into my left eye. I covered my eye, looked up, and tried to say I was fine. But then I suddenly realized, I couldn’t see my boyfriend’s parents anymore. 1 On our first anniversary, my boyfriend, Caleb, suddenly suggested taking me home to meet his parents. I was both excited and nervous because I knew this meant he was thinking about marriage. I bought some gifts, and Caleb and I took the express train home. Caleb’s family lived in the suburbs of a small, tier-four city in the north. The apartment complex looked somewhat desolate, and the property management wasn’t doing a great job. But Caleb’s parents were truly wonderful people. They prepared a huge feast, barely eating themselves, constantly piling food onto my plate, and even slipped me a thick envelope of cash. Their warmth made me a bit uncomfortable, so after dinner, I volunteered to wash the dishes. Caleb’s mom, however, grew anxious. “Oh no, you can’t! You’re our guest; I’ll do them.” But I insisted, taking the dishes into the kitchen. “Auntie, you worked so hard making all that food; let me handle this.” Caleb’s mom still wouldn’t let up, trying to take the dishes from my hands. As I was squeezing out dish soap, her grab caused some to splash into my left eye. “Ow!” I bent down, covering my eye. Caleb’s parents panicked, and I heard his father’s voice. “Elara, are you alright?” I looked up, still clutching my left eye, trying to force a smile and say I was fine. But I suddenly froze. Because with only my right eye open, I suddenly realized that Caleb’s parents had vanished. 2 From a very young age, I noticed I could see things other children couldn’t. I could see my deceased grandfather smiling and waving at me, and I could also see a woman hanging in the study. My parents noticed my unusual abilities and took me to a spiritualist. The spiritualist said I had a yin-yang eye. But only one. So my left eye could see spirits, while my right eye was a pure yang eye, incredibly strong with positive energy. A pure yang eye meant that no matter what visible method a ghost used, my right eye couldn’t see them; it could only perceive physical objects in the mortal realm. The spiritualist told me that this yin-yang eye wasn’t frightening. As long as I didn’t provoke malevolent spirits, I wouldn’t invite trouble. As for distinguishing spirits, it was simple: I just needed to close my left eye and use my right eye to check if I could still see them. After all, no ghost, no matter what, could manifest to my right eye. So, growing up, every time I entered a new environment, I would secretly check with my right eye first to see if there were any unwelcome presences. But today, I didn’t do that when I came to Caleb’s house. Because when I stepped into their home, I only saw Caleb and his two parents, and I naturally assumed there wouldn’t be anything unsettling. But now, with only my right eye, I couldn’t see Caleb’s parents. What did that mean? It meant they weren’t human. A chill ran down my spine, and at that moment, I heard Caleb’s father’s voice again. “Elara, are you alright?” The kitchen was empty, yet the voice clearly echoed in my ears. I suppressed a shiver and forced a smile. “I’m fine, just a little dish soap.” I wiped my left eye clean and opened it. Sure enough, Caleb’s parents reappeared before me, looking at me with concern. I pretended to rub my left eye, then used only my right eye to check again. Caleb’s parents vanished once more. My heart sank completely. “What happened?” A clear voice sounded, and I looked up to see Caleb had entered. Caleb’s parents had already spoken, anxiously. “Elara got dish soap in her eye; we don’t know if it’s serious.” Caleb immediately rushed to me, asking worriedly, “Elara, are you okay?” But I didn’t answer. I just pretended to continue rubbing my left eye, while cautiously, I glanced at Caleb with only my right eye. 3 Caleb was still standing there, perfectly normal. My tense nerves relaxed slightly. Thank goodness, at least Caleb was still alive. But the next second, I felt a little ridiculous. Caleb and I lived together, intimately. If he wasn’t alive, how could I not know? Perhaps Caleb’s presence gave me some courage. I finally calmed down and smiled at Caleb’s parents. “Uncle and Auntie, I’m fine.” Caleb’s parents visibly relaxed. After washing the dishes, Caleb’s parents said they were going downstairs to buy fresh fruit for me. Once they left, I began to probe Caleb. From Caleb’s description, I learned that his parents were retired factory workers and rarely socialized with others. That explained a lot. If Caleb’s parents rarely interacted with people, it was normal for Caleb not to immediately discover if something happened to them and they suddenly passed away. Caleb also told me that it was his parents who had suggested bringing me home this time. “My parents, for some reason, suddenly told me a few days ago that I absolutely had to bring you back. Maybe they wanted to meet their future daughter-in-law sooner.” Caleb said it with a smile, but I felt a growing sense of dread. A few days ago? His parents might have already been dead by then. Two ghosts insisting on meeting me, what exactly did they want? I looked at Caleb, suddenly realizing I had to tell him the truth. So I spoke: “Caleb, do you know, your parents are actually already dead.” 4 Caleb froze for a moment, then he got a little angry. “Elara, that’s not funny at all!” I knew he wouldn’t believe me. I could only tell him everything about my left eye being a yin-yang eye. But Caleb still didn’t believe it. He hugged me worriedly: “Elara, are you under too much stress lately? Do you need to see a therapist?” He probably thought I was crazy. Helplessly, I spoke. “If you truly don’t believe me, why not try this. You’ve probably heard that scattering rice at the door can ward off spirits, right? That’s because rice can obscure the vision of ghosts, preventing them from seeing the location of the door.” “If you truly believe your parents are alive, open the door and then scatter a handful of rice at the entrance. If your parents are alive, they’ll be able to enter normally. But if your parents are ghosts, they’ll think the door is closed and won’t be able to find their way home.” Over the years, because of my yin-yang eye, I’d learned quite a bit from the spiritualist, and it was coming in handy today. Caleb still looked at me with disbelief, but at least he did as I said. Not long after, the elevator bell chimed in the hallway. Caleb’s parents were back. They were carrying groceries and called out from the hallway. “Caleb, come out and help your dad with the fruit!” Caleb glanced at me, his expression seeming to say, “See? I told you my parents are fine, didn’t I?” Then he got up and walked towards the door. But the next second, he suddenly froze. Because he saw his parents walk up to the open front door, and their footsteps suddenly halted. Immediately after, his dad shouted, “Caleb, what are you doing? Open the door for us!” 5 I saw Caleb’s face turn pale. Because the door was clearly open. Caleb spoke, almost trembling, “Dad, we’re a bit busy here. Can’t you just come in yourself?” His dad’s tone grew urgent: “We have so many things in our hands! How can we open the door! Come here quickly!” I don’t know if it was my imagination, but Caleb’s father’s voice suddenly sounded a little sharp, echoing continuously in the empty hallway. Caleb’s face instantly turned even whiter. I quickly pulled him aside. “Caleb,” I whispered, “It’s best not to provoke your parents right now. Just pretend you don’t know anything.” With that, I walked out the door, subtly kicking away the rice on the ground, then pretended to open the door. “Uncle and Auntie, you’re back.” Caleb’s father looked displeased: “Why didn’t you open the door just now?” He gave me a gloomy look, but I feigned a blush. “Caleb was keeping me… occupied… We didn’t expect you to be back so soon…” I lowered my head, feigning more shyness. Caleb’s parents looked like they understood. “Young people!” Caleb’s mother laughed, saying no more, then pulled Caleb’s father inside. We awkwardly ate some fruit, then Caleb made an excuse about needing an early night. Caleb’s house only had two rooms, and his parents weren’t old-fashioned, so they let Caleb and me share one. I also breathed a sigh of relief; with two ghosts in the house, I wouldn’t dare to sleep alone. That night, under the covers, Caleb hugged me and whispered. “Elara, I’ve thought about it. Even if they’re dead, they’re still my parents. I think they just couldn’t let go of me, so they wanted to see my girlfriend before they left.” I felt a pang of sympathy. Indeed, for Caleb, the loss of his loved ones was probably more painful than fear. Caleb suddenly asked me again, “But there’s one thing I don’t understand. Why can I still see my parents even though they’re ghosts? I don’t have yin-yang eyes.” “Ghosts have ways to make themselves visible,” I whispered. “Your parents must have deliberately used a manifestation method, but they didn’t expect my right eye to be a pure yang eye.” Since his parents invited me home, they must have had a way to manifest. After all, they didn’t know I had yin-yang eyes. It was because they didn’t expect me to have a pure yang eye that I discovered something was wrong with them. I whispered again, “I also hope your parents just wanted to see me, and not to harm anyone.” Caleb frowned, “How do we know if they want to harm us?” I was silent for a moment before speaking: “Ghosts are strongest in the middle of the night. If they intend to harm us, they’ll probably act tonight. Conversely, if they don’t bother us tonight, then we should be safe.” Caleb was about to speak when he heard my words, but just then— Knock, knock, knock. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door outside. Accompanied by Caleb’s mother’s gentle voice. “Caleb, Elara, are you asleep?”

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After realizing I was the villainess in an e-sports novel, I stopped using my position as team manager to control Jax Thorne. When the true heroine joined, I quickly handed over my duties and moved to a new club. During the Spring Split, our two teams clashed. Jax was out for blood. Before the match, I offered a few words of comfort to our rookie mid-laner. Jax dove under towers, relentlessly hunting the mid-laner. The commentators: “This must be a strategic play Jax discussed with his teammates!” The broadcast switched to the TNG team’s voice chat. Teammate: “Jax, are you crazy?! Get back to your jungle!” Jax, eyes red: “Didn’t you see? Harper just touched his shoulder!” Teammates: … Commentators: … 1 I was the manager for Jax Thorne, the legendary jungler. For half a month, I’d woken up early to make yam porridge for him, bringing it to the club every day to soothe his stomach. Jax would grimace, chewing and grumbling, “Summer Hayes, aren’t you annoying? This stuff tastes terrible.” Just as I was about to insist he finish every bite, a series of comments popped up in my vision: [How is this villainess such a simp? She doesn’t even know the male lead is allergic to yams?] [No wonder Jax has been so quiet these past two weeks. Yam allergies make your tongue numb…] [Jax doesn’t deserve this. He’s been taking allergy medicine for half a month to spare the villainess’s feelings.] [Other players train 13 hours a day, and Jax is groggy from his meds.] [Thank goodness the heroine is coming online tomorrow. Jax is finally escaping his misery!] My jaw dropped as I stared at Jax. He was still frowning, spooning the porridge into his mouth. I quickly reached out and snatched the container. Turning, I handed it to Leo Vance, a passing youth trainee. “Leo, you eat this. You look like you’ve lost weight recently.” The air instantly went still. Jax, spoon in hand, froze. A few seconds later, his tense shoulders slumped, and he leaned back into his gaming chair. A cold sneer twisted his lips. “Fine. Looks like I dodged a bullet today.” His words really stung. Allergy aside, how many hours of sleep had I sacrificed to make him that porridge every day? And his allergy? That wasn’t my fault. What kind of normal person would suffer for half a month without saying anything? The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I snatched the spoon from Jax’s hand and gave it to Leo. Leo slurped a big mouthful, his eyes lighting up. “Manager Hayes’s porridge is so fragrant and soft, it’s amazing! If Jax doesn’t want his in the future, can I have it all?” I was about to say there wouldn’t be a “future.” Jax’s expression stiffened. With a loud clatter, his gaming chair was kicked back. Leo and I both turned. Jax strode over in a few steps, snatching the container back from Leo. “That’s enough! I haven’t even had breakfast yet!” He then tipped the container directly into his mouth, his cheeks bulging as he chewed furiously. I stared at him like he was the biggest idiot on Earth. Seriously, what was wrong with this guy? The comments called him a dog, and he was really guarding his food like one. [??? No way, why is Jax so desperate? Is he addicted to allergy meds?] [Maybe he’s got rabies now] [LOL, I’m dying. Jax’s masochistic tendencies are an old problem, huh?] [Dogs don’t deserve this. My dog even knows not to eat chocolate…] 2 Thanks to the comments, I roughly understood the plot. Turns out, I was the villainess in an e-sports novel. Using my privileges as team manager, I’d been secretly pestering Jax. The true heroine, Harper Miller, loved gaming, and after joining TNG, she quickly became close to the team and a playful rival with Jax. They’d reach the peak of love and career together. As for my fate: fueled by hatred, I’d collude with an opponent, betraying information, and be driven out of the e-sports world. …Oh, come on, fate! You didn’t even treat me like a decent human being! I wake up earlier than a rooster and go to bed later than a dog, only to end up losing everything? What kind of justice is that? 3 To resist the storyline, I avoided bothering Jax the entire day. Around eight in the evening, the boss told me Jax had “gone on strike” today and asked me to find him. I drove to the industrial park bar Jax frequented. Sure enough, in a private room, Jax’s long frame was slumped in a sofa, a glass of whiskey in his hand. The comment section was filled with lamentations about how handsome “Jax the dog” was! I pursed my lips; he didn’t even drink alcohol; he was just sitting there, purely for show. Suddenly, I heard someone loudly ask Jax: “Jax, is that yam-porridge manager of yours still bothering you?” Yam-porridge manager… I really wanted to twist the heads off these rich kids and kick them around like balls! But I was so smitten, my hand reaching for the door involuntarily slowed by half a beat. Unfortunately, Jax didn’t say anything. His friend beside him spoke first. “If it weren’t for the club’s sake, Jax wouldn’t have put up with her for so long, right, Jax?” Jax’s hand paused, and he didn’t deny it. It was the reaction I expected. I pinched my palm, then, with a burst of resolve, pushed open the private room door. Everyone’s gaze turned to me. Jax’s expression stiffened for a moment, then quickly reverted to his usual cold demeanor. I pretended not to notice, walked over, and tossed his team jacket onto the coffee table. “Review meeting tomorrow at eight AM. Now, get up and come back to the base with me.” He lifted his slender eyelids to glance at me, but didn’t move. The rich kid with dyed blonde hair blew a smoke ring and scoffed. “Seriously, Manager Hayes, who exactly are you to Jax? Even his own mom doesn’t boss him around this much, does she?” The room erupted in laughter. I remained unmoved, simply tapping my wrist and looking at Jax. Bang! The whiskey glass in his hand hit the glass table, liquid splashing. The laughter instantly choked. Jax grabbed his team jacket, stood up, and placed himself between me and the blonde-haired guy. His face was cold, his tone casual but laced with aggression: “I’m happy to pay someone to manage me. You got a problem with that?” Without waiting for the blonde-haired guy’s scowl, he pulled me out of the private room. 4 In the parking garage, Jax got into the car first. He leaned back in his seat, irritably tugging at his collar, his tone displeased. “Summer Hayes, can you stop treating me like a child in front of outsiders?” “Don’t worry,” I said softly. “I won’t anymore.” I didn’t linger by his side as usual. After closing his car door, I slipped into the passenger seat. “Driver, please take us back to the base.” The car was silent for a few seconds. Jax’s eyebrows furrowed, his tone becoming even more agitated. “Summer, what’s with the attitude? Is it because of that damn porridge this morning? I ended up eating the whole pot, didn’t I?” He thought I was still sulking about the morning incident. I turned my head to look at the streaking night outside, not bothering to argue. Jax stared at me for a long moment, then let out a cold scoff, closing his eyes to sleep. The driver, accustomed to this, kept his eyes on the road. I laughed at myself internally. The blonde guy was right, actually. I did micromanage Jax too much. 5 The entire e-sports world knew I was Jax Thorne’s “nanny.” Jax was the highlight of my career. He was also the first successful player I’d managed. He’d raked in trophies from domestic and international tournaments, and my salary had increased six or sevenfold because of him. But as talented as Jax was, he had just as many quirks. Low blood sugar, tenosynovitis, and nervous gastritis—all at once. If he missed even one meal, I worried he’d die in his gaming chair… But I didn’t want Jax to die. I didn’t want anything to happen to him. I couldn’t remember when exactly, but I started cooking for him in various ways, coaxing him to eat. Jax was quite unhappy about it. Everyone in the circle admired my patience. “Summer, you deserve to earn that money!” Even Jax asked me, “Why are you so shamelessly managing me? Are you afraid I’ll die and no one will win games and make money for you?” They thought I’d thrown away my dignity for money. But to be honest, most of the money still went into the boss’s and players’ pockets. My self-appointed care for him, the biggest reason was to repay a debt of gratitude from two years ago. 6 The year I entered the industry, the club was just starting out. Everyone wore multiple hats, and I was often dragged by the boss to liquor events to drink on his behalf. One investor, Mr. Davies, loved to use a profile picture of his family of four while sending lewd messages to young women at the table. Later, he did invest a good deal of money. I couldn’t block him, so I just put him on do not disturb, out of sight, out of mind. Jax joined the club not long after and saw the messages on my computer. He averted his gaze, his brow furrowed so deeply it looked like it could trap a fly. “Why don’t you delete them? Is Julian forcing you?” Julian was the club owner’s name. I didn’t even look up, working as I spoke, “He’s an investor. No need to offend him. Just don’t reply.” He looked at me intently, but said nothing more. At the intercontinental championship celebration, that investor was also present. He clapped Jax on the shoulder, praising his youthful ambition. Of course, he didn’t care about the player’s achievements; he just wanted to use Jax to get closer to the Thorne family. Jax sat at the head of the table, not even touching his drink. His gaze suddenly swept across the crowd, then he put on an innocent, somewhat troubled expression: “Manager, can I drink?” 7 I was lost in thought when my name was suddenly called. Everyone turned to look at me. Catching Jax’s eye, I understood and played along. “No drinking. Your stomach just recovered.” Jax didn’t hesitate for a second. His lips curved, his tone regretful, yet his expression was utterly dismissive. “My apologies. Our manager has spoken, and I have to listen to her.” The investor’s jowls stiffened, then he immediately forced a fawning smile: “Yes, yes, of course, Young Master Thorne’s health is precious, no need to drink!” From that day on, I never received another harassing message on my phone. I knew it was a simple favor for Jax. In fact, he’d probably forgotten all about it. But he truly had, effortlessly, resolved a tricky problem for me. I owed him, and I desperately wanted to be good to him. The comments said my behavior was “simp-like,” and that I was a burden to Jax. Honestly, I still don’t understand. For example, why was my “goodness” to Jax so clumsy? Perhaps I never learned how to better express gratitude or love for someone. No one had ever taught me. My phone buzzed, pulling my thoughts back—a message from the boss. “The Miller family’s daughter wants to check out our club. Can you show her around?” I mechanically opened the attached resume. Harper Miller, a delicate face, eyes like stars. Her name matched the heroine’s name from the comments. 8 The next day, as soon as I entered the base, my assistant, Chloe, rushed over to me as if I were a savior, tears in her voice. “Summer, help! You’re finally here! This morning, Jax was sitting there with a grim face, clutching his stomach, not saying anything. He probably got gastritis again from staying up late. The rookie team is so scared they don’t even dare to type. You need to go calm him down…” Before she finished speaking, the frosted glass door of the training room opened. Jax walked out, wearing an oversized gray hoodie, his face cold. The area instantly fell silent; the players all uniformly bent their heads, furiously typing on their keyboards. He walked directly to me, leaning in slightly, his tired face close to mine. “Summer Hayes, you’re fifteen minutes late today.” Then he opened his long, slender palm. “Where’s my porridge?” [No way, a second round? Bro really thinks he’s a divine farmer, testing poisons, huh?] [It expresses some of the male lead’s hunger…] [Didn’t they say the male lead has anorexia? This greedy boy might actually have regained his appetite because of the villainess?] I took a half-step back, creating a safe distance between us. “No porridge. And there won’t be any in the future.” With that, I pulled out a strip of stomach medicine and half a pack of soda crackers from my bag, and slapped them into his arms. Jax lowered his head, staring at the items in his arms, his expression bewildered. “Summer Hayes, are you serious?” 9 The knuckles of his hand, clutching the crackers, were slightly pale, and his voice held a hint of urgency. “What did I do to upset you?” [Jax, please donate your brain. You don’t remember what your friends were gossiping about the villainess last night?] [Super dense male lead, but it’s good to let the villainess give up, saves her from future heartbreak…] [Whatever, hurry up and get offline, villainess, I want to see a sweet romance!] Jax frowned, staring at me. In the past, I would have been heartbroken for a long time. Then I’d have gone to sleep alone, comforted myself, and continued to stubbornly manage him and stick to him. But this time, I suppressed the ache in my heart and calmly spoke: “Jax, I’m the manager, not a nanny. Making porridge isn’t part of my job. If there’s nothing else, I’ll get back to work.” With that, I walked past him without a backward glance, heading towards my office. Behind me, I heard hushed whispers: “Is Manager Hayes in a bad mood today?” “Didn’t you see the group chat? Miss Miller just joined… Manager Hayes is probably being sidelined.” I pushed open my office door. The “Miller family daughter” my colleague had been mentioning was sitting proudly in my office chair.

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After being scratched by the fox-shifter for the umpteenth time, I went to the hospital alone. The nurse grumbled, “That gash is deep, it’s definitely going to scar. Has your shifter ever received proper socialization training?” I gave a wry smile, “He has. He was an honor student.” My phone suddenly buzzed. Leo, uncharacteristically, sent a flurry of messages: “Just a scratch, do you really need to go to the hospital?” “I’m hungry, come back and make me dinner.” “I’m starving with you.” “You really don’t take good care of me.” Was that truly what he thought? I turned and walked to the Shifter Registry: “I’d like to exchange my shifter.” 1 The staff at the Shifter Registry were very polite. She asked, as per procedure, “You and your shifter have been registered for over a year; you’ll be eligible for bonding soon.” “Why are you choosing to exchange your shifter now?” A bitter taste filled my mouth. It had been a year already, huh? I had once looked forward to the bonding ritual, excitedly discussing ring styles with Leo. Leo would sneer, his lips curling mockingly: “Do you think you’re worthy of me?” “Crying won’t help. I will absolutely not bond with you.” “Let me tell you something, inferior human, crying is truly disgusting.” I was indeed a lower-tier human, only capable of basic work. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t meet the living standards Leo desired. In fact, being able to acquire a pure-blood fox-shifter like Leo was an accident. I swallowed the lump in my throat, “He doesn’t like me.” One could even say he despises me. The receptionist looked surprised, “Trained shifters are always devoted to their owners.” “Normally, a problem like this would never occur.” Yes, a problem that shouldn’t occur, happened to me. I tried to smile lightly, “Maybe I just have bad luck.” The staff member showed an apologetic expression, “It seems our training was flawed.” “Please don’t blame yourself.” “Please follow me.” 2 Purchasing Leo had cost me fifty thousand credits. I could choose a replacement from shifters in the same price range. My gaze swept over faces that were slightly less striking than Leo’s, but still beautiful. Their profiles read: Fox, Leopard. I hesitated, “Are there any others?” I wanted a canine shifter. A Golden Retriever, preferably. I heard that Golden Retriever shifters are very fond of humans. Even an inferior human like me should be well-liked by them, right? The staff member maintained a polite smile, “None at the moment.” “However, shifter breeding is quick; the next batch will be available in about two months.” “As compensation, you’ll have priority selection then.” I nodded. As the staff member saw me out, an unstuck photo fell from her binder. The man in the photo had cold, vertical gray pupils, a high nose bridge, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist—a strikingly sharp beauty. He was a Werewolf. The staff member sighed, “He’s actually our most obedient shifter here.” “Management wants to try opening a new market.” “But everyone is afraid of werewolves going wild.” “The boss fears losses, so they’re selling him to the fighting pits today.” “But he’s been trained to be very gentle since he was little; going to the fighting pits means certain death.” “No one wants him, it’s really pitiful.” No one wanted him? No one wanted me either. But… The staff member’s sigh grew heavier, “I heard that in the fighting pits, he’ll be torn to pieces.” “You won’t even be able to pick him up.” That would be very painful. Werewolves are also a type of dog, right? I stopped, “Is he really obedient?” The staff member’s eyes lit up, “Yes, really.” “Then I’ll take this one.” 3 The staff member said the werewolf would be delivered in three days. I carefully put the exchange agreement into my bag. On the way home, from a distance, I saw Leo and Clara. The white-haired shifter was bathed in the twilight, his features deep and exquisite, like a work of art. Clara was a higher-tier human from the neighboring district. Smart and elegant. Completely unlike me. After meeting Leo, she often came by to deliver high-grade nutrient solutions. The two of them were also unusually close. My steps slowed. Clara saw me, “Elara, off to work again?” She gave a subtle smile, “Elara, I’m not saying anything, but even if you’re about to bond with Leo, you should still dress up.” “Look at what you’re wearing… really…” “Walking on the street, who would believe you two are a couple?” I looked at my simple t-shirt and jeans, then at her beautiful dress: “I think this is fine.” Leo didn’t look at me, his voice low, “She doesn’t look good dressed up either.” “Might as well pretend she doesn’t know how to dress up.” “Saves people from saying she’s genuinely ugly.” Clara playfully hit his arm, “Leo, how can you talk about a girl like that!” Leo curled his lips. It was a perfect smile, yet full of mockery, “You’re trying to be nice to her, and she still thinks you’re meddling.” “Inferior humans can’t understand the thoughts of higher-tier humans.” “Being bought by her was truly the worst luck of my life.” 4 Actually, Leo wasn’t always like this. Even if I couldn’t provide him with the high-grade nutrient solution a top-tier shifter needed, even if the clothes I bought would chafe his delicate skin. Leo always firmly maintained that meeting me was a stroke of luck. The turning point came when we encountered Leo’s former competitor, a Red Fox-shifter, on the street. My bag dropped to the ground, and Leo helped me pick up the scattered items. The Red Fox-shifter got out of his car and stepped right on Leo’s hand. He exclaimed, “Oh, isn’t this the most popular Leo?” “How… did you end up with such an ugly, inferior human?” “Well, I suppose a defective product with an inferior human, it just fits.” Leo locked himself in the house for a night, and I stood guard by the door all night. I told him it was wrong to categorize people into different tiers, so Leo being classified as defective by the Shifter Registry shouldn’t matter. We were living perfectly well, weren’t we? Leo opened his door, his eyes red and swollen: “You’ve never lived in the heavens, so of course, you think being trash isn’t bad.” Later, he met Clara. Clara came from a noble background and could offer Leo many things. They grew increasingly familiar; sometimes, while chatting, Clara would lean against him. I cautiously brought it up once, “You’re my shifter, can you keep your distance from Clara?” Leo gave me a condescending glance. Both cold and hateful. He said, “Elara, if I hadn’t had that defect, how could you possibly have acquired me?” “You merely took advantage of my misfortune.” “By what right do you put on airs as my owner?” But, it was Leo who begged me to save him then. 5 In this new era, male shifters bear the function of reproduction for humans. As the most exceptional shifter, Leo had fetched an exorbitant price at the trading house before his infertility was discovered. A non-reproductive shifter was unwanted. Even at a discounted price of fifty thousand credits, he was considered useless among humans with reproductive needs. The higher-ups intended to send him to the red-light district to recoup their investment. That day, I happened to be going to purchase a shifter of my own. Leo broke through his restraints, kneeling before me, “Please, save me.” He looked up, crying, tears like pearls streaming from his beautiful eyes. “I’ll be very good to you; I’ll become your family.” “I don’t want to die, please.” I had no family since childhood, growing up in an orphanage. Leo’s words touched me. Although I loved children, having one family member seemed just right. I spent all my savings and took out a loan to buy Leo. Fearing to hurt Leo’s pride, I never brought up the past. I never expected to hear it from him again, twisted into me taking advantage of his misfortune. I argued with Leo. During the dispute, I touched his hand. He instinctively pushed me away with a fierce shove. A sharp table corner cut my arm, leaving a gash deep enough to show bone. Leo froze for a moment, but still didn’t move, “If you hadn’t tried to touch me, how would you have gotten hurt?” “It’s all your own doing.” He didn’t even want to accompany me to the hospital, “I’m going shopping with Clara today.” “Besides, my presence won’t lessen your pain.” “You have hands and feet; don’t blame everything on me.” As the nurse dressed my wound, she sighed, “Such a deep gash will definitely scar.” “It’ll ache on rainy days.” “You and your shifter are so incompatible; maybe it’s time to give up.” I suddenly understood. Right, I could give up. Leo and I didn’t need to be bound together for life. My thoughts returned. I spoke, interrupting Leo’s movement to close the door, “Leo, do you truly feel that being with me is a torment?” Leo’s body stiffened, but when he turned, he still wore that mocking expression, “Yes.” “But an inferior human like you, who got such a bargain with me, would you really be willing to let go?” “I’ll be stuck with a persistent pest for life.” I exhaled. It seemed my decision was correct. Leo, not getting a reply from me, impatiently flicked his drooping tail against the floor, “What exactly do you want to say?” I looked down, picking at my fingertips, “I’ve prepared a gift for you. You’ll find out in a few days.” A fleeting, unidentifiable emotion flickered across Leo’s face. It seemed to be anticipation. But quickly, he resumed his mocking tone, “Not another batch of low-purity nutrient solution that even dogs wouldn’t drink, is it?” “I’ll just have to waste my energy pouring it down the toilet.” I answered very seriously, “No, it’s the thing you want most.” Freedom. Leo tossed out a “better be,” and shut the door tight.

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The lofty Miss Avery Parker of Crown City dumped me, a mere bar host, at my birthday. My sister shut down his bar and planned to send him to a remote mine. Avery stayed quiet. Three days later, my brakes failed, and I crashed into a shantytown. Unconscious, I was dragged into an alley. I woke up bruised, with compromising photos on my phone. Avery used them to break off our engagement. The next day, the bartender, Brandon White, moved into her home. My childhood fiancée, Miss Celeste McDougall, said she’d marry me despite the scandal. At our civil registration, I overheard groomsmen outside: Avery set me up to be with Brandon, and Celeste only married me to stop my family from investigating him. Both their hearts belonged to that one man. I looked at myself in the groom’s suit, disgusted. Tearing off my jacket and tie, I drove to the International Medical Aid Center. Filling the forms with trembling hands, I wrote clearly: “I’m applying for Latin America. I’ll sign the waiver—my life, my responsibility.” … The director flipped through my resume, his brows furrowed so deeply they could trap a fly. “Dr. Hart, there’s an ongoing conflict and a dengue fever outbreak in Latin America right now. Two of the three doctors we sent have already been infected, and the armed factions there don’t follow rules. You might genuinely not come back.” I closed my eyes, my heart aching as if squeezed, but my voice was calm when I spoke. “I know. I’ll take Sister Wang’s place; she’s pregnant and it’s inconvenient for her. It’s convenient for me.” The director looked at my expensive shirt and trousers, sighing. “Isn’t today your wedding day? Why are you here?” Tears splattered on the ground. I quickly wiped my face with the back of my hand, saying nothing. She didn’t ask further, directly approving my application. A top surgeon willing to go to such a place, they couldn’t ask for more. “The special flight leaves at seven tomorrow morning.” “If you make it back alive, the organization will apply for the highest honor for you, and your sister’s hospital will also receive international aid funding.” I bowed, then turned and walked out. The white Porsche I’d left at the entrance was gone. Just as I was about to call a taxi, Avery pulled up in that very car, stopping in front of me. She rolled down the window, a slender lady’s cigarette between her fingers, her gaze as indifferent as if she were looking at a stranger: “Allo likes this car. I was just having someone pick it up, and I happened to run into you, so I just drove it away.” I looked at the steering wheel, my throat tight. She had bought this car abroad three years ago, spending forty million, claiming it was my birthday gift. There were only twenty of them worldwide, and the license plate was even my birthday. Back then, she had taught me to drive it herself, saying the car suited me, Allen Hart. Now, for Brandon, she wanted back even things she had given away. I smiled faintly, ignored her, and turned to leave. Behind me, the engine roared, her voice a little impatient. “It’s your big day today, why are you here?” “Get in. I’ll drive you back to the registry office. Don’t waste time, or Celeste will dump you and you won’t even have time to cry.” I didn’t look back. “I’m not getting married.” Avery scoffed, the scent of tobacco wafting on the wind: “Allen Hart, don’t I know your little schemes? You just can’t let go of me, you’re unwilling to be with Celeste.” “Coming here, isn’t it just to get my attention?” “But after what happened to you in the shantytown, my Parker family can’t have you anymore.” “I’ve already had those people who touched you dealt with. Consider it my closing statement.” “Now, Celeste is willing to have you. You should be counting your blessings. Don’t be ungrateful.” I turned to look at her. Her face was still the same beautiful face that was hard to look away from, but what was inside had long since rotted. Counting my blessings? It was just another calculation. Brandon, selling drinks and charming customers in a bar, how much cleaner could he be than me? I opened my mouth, but only one word escaped: “Scram.” Her face instantly darkened. She pushed open the car door, grabbed my wrist, and shoved me towards the car. “Allen Hart, we’re long over. Don’t cling to me like a lunatic.” “Celeste is my childhood friend. You should be celebrating that she’s willing to have you. Don’t mess up this chance.” She sped all the way to the Hart family gates, pushed me out of the car, and then stomped on the accelerator, leaving. My sister was already pacing at the door, her face dark when she saw me. “Where have you been? The McDougall family is waiting for you to sign, and you’re not answering your phone. Do you want to kill me with worry?” I took a deep breath and told her about going to Latin America. My sister swayed, almost losing her balance. “No! Are you crazy? That’s a suicide mission! I forbid it!” 2 I forced myself to calm down and repeated verbatim what I had overheard outside the dressing room. My sister’s face flushed crimson as she listened. She grabbed her car keys, ready to confront Avery Parker and Celeste McDougall. I clung to her arm tightly: “Sis, please let me go. If I really marry Celeste, every day after that will be torture.” “Going to Latin America isn’t just to escape; it’s also to earn some reputation for our family.” “Besides, leaving here is the only relief for me.” My sister looked at me, the keys in her hand falling to the ground. She didn’t speak for a long time. She loved me, but the Hart family had such a large estate, and there were still those relatives from the side branches watching. If I could use this method to bring some benefit to the family, no matter how much her heart ached, she would have to consider it. The motorcade for the wedding arrived at the gate. I hadn’t done my hair, hadn’t changed clothes, and walked straight out. Celeste stood by the car, wearing her usual smile. I looked at her face, my heart feeling like something was lodged in it. She didn’t love me, she was shielding another man, yet how could she act so convincingly? I said indifferently, “I’m not getting married. You should go back.” Celeste’s face changed. She stepped forward, grabbed my hand, and lowered her voice: “Allen, what’s with the drama? Right now, I’m the only one in the entire city who doesn’t look down on you. If you break off this engagement with me, do you want people to talk behind your back for the rest of your life?” “I know you’re still thinking about Avery, but if you truly love someone, shouldn’t you support their happiness?” My nose stung. I tilted my head back, forcing the tears away, and looked at her, smiling: “So you also like Brandon. To make them happy, you’re sacrificing yourself to take me?” “To keep me from bothering Brandon, you’re marrying me to keep me under your thumb, right?” Her eyes flickered, but she stood her ground, her eyes even reddening. “Allen, how could you think that of me? We grew up together, don’t you know what kind of person I am?” Onlookers began to murmur. “Ms. McDougall is being kind to him, and he’s slandering her. What kind of man is this?” “Exactly. Ms. McDougall, since he doesn’t appreciate it, just break off the engagement! Who would want a man who’s been defiled, besides you!” My sister stood beside me, her face dark with anger, about to speak up about what happened that night. I quickly pressed her hand, shook my head at her, and whispered in her ear, “Sis, we can’t say anything. The Parker and McDougall families are allied; we can’t fight them.” “Avery just secured those big projects; she’s riding high. Even if she hired people to harm me, even if she ruined my reputation for Brandon, if she wants to whitewash it, she can make black sound white.” “Right now, no one will believe us. They’ll just think we’re slandering them for sympathy.” My sister’s chest heaved with anger. Finally, she swung her arm and went inside, leaving me alone. Celeste took my hand again, her face full of tenderness. “Allen, you’re not in a good mood today. I can wait. This engagement is forever valid, as long as you promise me not to go after Avery and Brandon again.” I shook off her hand, my eyes turning cold. “I won’t be with you, and I won’t go after Avery again. Never in this life, because I’m about to…” Before I could finish, Brandon, driving the white Porsche Avery had just taken from me, roared his engine and stopped by the road. He was wearing a custom casual suit from a famous brand. When he got out, his body was as soft as if he had no bones. He looked at Celeste with a hint of something different in his eyes. Celeste’s eyes brightened, then quickly dimmed. Brandon walked up to me, his eyes reddening, and he started to cry, looking incredibly pitiful: “Hart, why did you go to see Avery again today? You’re about to get married, why are you still clinging to her?” 3 The murmurs from the crowd grew harsher. “Just now he said he wouldn’t bother Ms. Parker, but then her official boyfriend shows up. Where’s his face?” “Ms. McDougall’s sincerity was wasted on a dog. This kind of man should get out of Crown City.” Celeste, hearing I had gone to see Avery today, her eyes immediately turned cold. She instinctively stepped in front of Brandon, her tone full of reproach: “Allen, I know you look down on Brandon, thinking he’s from a bar, not clean, and not good enough for Avery.” “But he only served drinks in the bar; he never did anything like that. He’s still innocent.” “On the contrary, after that night, you’re much dirtier than him.” I took a deep breath. The hot June wind felt like knives on my face. Yes, Avery, to whitewash Brandon and make him suitable for the Parker family’s prestige, had immediately bought off several media outlets to change their stories, and even had him adopted by a retired female professor as a godmother, giving him a layer of gold. Overnight, I became the scorned outcast of Crown City, while he became the inspirational, pure idol, Ms. Parker’s darling. Brandon suddenly pointed at the diamond-studded watch on my wrist, his voice sharp: “How did you steal my things? This is Avery’s love token for me! How is it on your hand?!” My body stiffened, my eyes reddened as I looked at Celeste: “This watch, didn’t you give it to me last night?” Celeste’s eyes darted away, unwilling to meet mine, but her tone was firm: “When did I ever give you a watch? You’re light-fingered yourself, don’t drag me into this.” My ears were filled with accusations of being a thief, words hitting me like stones. I endured the tearing pain in my chest, my hands trembling as I unclasped the watch and violently threw it to the ground. The watch face shattered, pieces scattering onto Brandon’s feet. I questioned, “I’ve never been to the Parker family home. How could I have stolen this watch?” Brandon clutched his ankle, a flicker of triumph in his eyes, as he wailed to the onlookers: “The Parker family’s servants all saw him come by today! If you don’t believe me, ask them!” Suddenly, a clear, cold female voice came from outside the crowd: “Allo, it’s just a watch. If he wants it, let him have it. I’ll buy you a better one. Allen and I have known each other since childhood, let’s not make a scene on his big day.” Avery parted the crowd and walked over, pushing Celeste aside, and embraced Brandon, her eyes full of possessiveness: “Thank you, Celeste, for looking after Allo for me. You two continue; Allo and I are leaving first.” I called out to her. “Avery, you know very well I wasn’t at your house today. Why aren’t you explaining for me?” She stopped, turned back, her eyes utterly cold. She leaned close to my ear, speaking in a voice only we two could hear: “I just want you to completely give up. No matter how pitiful you pretend to be, I won’t look at you again. If you keep clinging to me, it’ll only disgust me.” My eyes ached terribly, but it felt like my tears had dried up. I remembered when I was a child, no matter who wronged me, Avery would be the first to rush to my defense. She had said I was her little prince, and no one could bully me. And now, to force me away, she indulged the man she loved in publicly slandering me. She didn’t know, even if I wanted to cling to her, I wouldn’t have the chance. After tomorrow, Allen Hart would no longer exist in Crown City.

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My boyfriend, William, was famous in our social circle for being a “central heating” type of guy – warm to everyone. At group dinners, he’d smile and help order for ten female friends at the table: “Chloe loves the Shrimp Scampi with Garlic, Mia prefers the Sweet and Sour Pork Ribs, and Emily absolutely has to have the Spicy Jambalaya…” Ten people, ten dishes, all their favorites. Everyone envied me: “You found a great guy that’s impossible to find.” But I broke up with him. He asked why, his eyes red. I said, “I don’t want to live with a central air conditioner anymore.” Later, we ran into each other at a party. He had his new girlfriend in his arms, and his eyes mocked me: “Heard your new boyfriend’s pretty cold? Doesn’t even let you order your own food.” I looked at the silent man beside me. He opened the menu and ordered only three dishes. All of them were my favorites. Then he closed the menu, not glancing at anyone else. Someone tentatively asked, “Aren’t you going to ask what we want?” He didn’t even look up, “What other people like to eat, what does that have to do with me?” My ex-boyfriend’s face stiffened, inch by agonizing inch. 1 Once the dishes were all served, William suddenly raised his hand and called for the waiter. “Add a mug of Cinnamon Ginger Tea.” My hand, midway to picking up a piece of Roast Chicken, paused. The tightness in my chest, which had been there all evening, eased a little. After such a late night, he still remembered I wasn’t feeling well. The tea arrived quickly, and William got up to pour a cup. I was just about to reach for it. The lazy Susan was already turning. The mug of tea rotated to the hand of Tara, a colleague from the club. Tara’s eyes lit up… “Wow, William, you’re so thoughtful! How did you know I’m on my period?” William smiled casually, a hint of nonchalance: “You usually crave spicy food, but tonight you haven’t touched anything hot. How could I not notice?” Everyone at the table exclaimed. “William, are your eyes like a measuring tape or something?” “Where do you find a good man like this?” “Only Olivia is lucky enough to have such a considerate boyfriend.” William waved a hand: “Alright, alright, stop teasing me.” Then he got up, walked to the wall, and turned the air conditioning up two degrees. He turned back to Tara with a smile: “You get stomachaches and still don’t wear enough layers.” I was wrapped snugly in a high-neck sweater, the collar hiding the marks he’d insisted on leaving last night, and fine beads of sweat trickled down my forehead. The air conditioning was already warm enough. But I still felt cold. The entire table of delicious food tasted like sawdust. As the dinner ended, William picked up his car keys: “I’ll drive you girls home; it’s not safe late at night.” I tugged at his sleeve, whispering: “It’s not even nine yet. Let’s just go home; I’m not feeling well today.” Sweat had been pouring off me in the stuffy private room, and now the evening breeze made my temples throb. William looked down, took my hand, and said gently: “How can I let girls go home alone when it’s dark? Be good, just a little longer.” Another one of his perfectly warm, unblemished statements. A wave of helplessness washed over me. Was William not good to me? Quite the opposite. Everyone in our circle knew he was incredibly attentive, the perfect boyfriend who did everything for me. But his kindness was like the breeze from an air conditioner, evenly distributed to everyone in the room, without favor. And what I wanted was, just once, his undivided attention. I let go of his hand. “I’m only asking you once.” “Can you take me home first today?” William frowned, his tone laced with exasperation: “Don’t be difficult, it won’t take long, you can rest in the car just the same—” “Fine.” I stopped arguing, turned, and hailed a taxi. William froze for a moment, then chased after me, grabbing the car door: “Jasmine! What are you doing?” I pushed his hand away and closed the door. “Drive.” 2 When I got home, the air conditioning was broken. I huddled under a blanket on the bed, waiting until one in the morning. William called. “Jasmine, something happened with Tara.” “Her ex-boyfriend showed up again, her apartment is a mess, and she’s too scared to be alone. I’m staying with her for a while.” I closed my eyes, taking a sharp breath. “William, you could have taken her to a hotel, or called a female friend to come over.” “You staying there, just the two of you, what kind of impression does that give? Aren’t you worried people will misunderstand?” “Misunderstand what? We’re just colleagues.” He dismissed it. “I’m like this with everyone, you know that. No one will think anything of it.” I clutched the blanket tightly. “I think I have a fever. The air conditioning at home is broken, can you…” “Jasmine!” He cut me off, a hint of impatience in his voice. “Can you stop being so dramatic? I’m just helping a friend. She’s terrified right now, and you’re making a scene with me? “Am I not good enough to you normally? Do I have to ignore everyone else and only pay attention to you?” I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Tara took the phone, her voice soft and tearful. “Jasmine, please don’t misunderstand William… I was just so scared that I begged him to stay and protect me… “Please don’t be angry. I promise I’ll give him back to you tomorrow.” I hung up the phone. The room was cold, so cold my bones shivered. I wrapped myself in the blanket and lay down, curling into a ball. My body grew hotter and hotter, my heart pounding as if it wanted to leap from my throat. I struggled to get up. I called 911 myself. In the emergency room, after the doctor finished examining me, she frowned. “Didn’t you know you were pregnant?” “Why did you wait until your fever developed into myocarditis to come in!” I stared at the report, my mind reeling. 3 When I next woke, birds were chirping outside the window. The nurse removed the IV drip. I picked up my phone; it was quiet, no messages, no calls. Just as I was about to get up and leave, my phone rang. “Hello, is this Jasmine?” “This is the police station. William Vance is your boyfriend, right? He got into a fight and was brought in. Could you come down?” My head buzzed. “A fight? He—” “Both he and the other party were involved. They’re both here now; please come handle it.” I hung up, my mind a mix of panic and urgency, quickly getting out of bed and putting on my shoes. Wasn’t William with Tara? Why would he suddenly get into a fight? It had been years since he was that impulsive. My phone rang again. “Jasmine! Get online quickly! William’s been filmed!” I clicked the link my best friend sent. Video title: “E-sports Player William Vance Fights in Early Hours, Angrily Confronts Ex-Boyfriend to Protect Mysterious Woman” In the footage, William stood beneath an apartment building, his hair disheveled, a cut on his lip, blood oozing out. Tara hid behind him, her eyes red, clutching his arm. The man opposite pointed at Tara’s nose and cursed: “You only broke up with me because of him!” William shielded Tara behind him, wiping the blood from his lip: “If you dare harass her again, I’ll beat you every time.” The ex-boyfriend rushed forward, and the two men wrestled. The video shook violently; I could only hear the dull thud of fists on flesh and Tara’s screams. The comment section had gone wild. [Holy cow, William is so alpha! What a boyfriend!] [Who’s that girl? His girlfriend?] [Looks like the operations manager from their club, I’ve seen her on streams before!] [William getting mad for his lady, I’m swooning!] [William didn’t deny it, isn’t this basically official?] My chest felt tight, struggling to breathe. I stared at those comments, my fingers clenching until they were white. We had been together for seven years. His fans didn’t even know I existed. He always told me that his profession was unique, that e-sports players didn’t date, and that if they made mistakes, fans would still forgive them. But if he dated, any slight drop in performance would be blamed on him being distracted by romance. For his career, I endured it. But what was this now? 4 In the police station hallway, I spotted Tara immediately. She sat on a bench, her shoulders shaking. William stood beside her, his hand resting on her shoulder, talking to her quietly. Hearing footsteps, he looked up, his eyes flickering. I said nothing, turning to sign the papers and pay the fine. When I returned, Tara got up to meet me. “Jasmine…” She grabbed my hand, tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry, I dragged William into this. I didn’t know it would cause him to get hurt, or that someone would film it…” She cried, tears falling like pear blossoms after a rain. Then she looked up at William, her tearful eyes filled with dependence. William raised a hand and gently ruffled her hair, his voice incredibly tender. “Who else is going to look out for you? If you have trouble, who else would you call?” I turned to walk out. “Jasmine!” William ran after me. I didn’t look back. Back home, just as I set my bag down, William hugged me from behind. His chin rested on my shoulder, nuzzling me affectionately: “You were scared today, weren’t you? Don’t be angry, it was just an accident, Tara’s situation…” His hand rested on my lower abdomen. There, a tiny life. Seven years. I had been with him since I was twenty. We lived in a basement apartment, and at our poorest, we only ate instant noodles. He played games, and I worked three part-time jobs to support him. Now, finally, we had made it through the hard times. Was I willing to break up over these things? I closed my eyes, then opened them again. I turned to face him. “William, let’s get married.” “Why so sudden…” He froze. “We’ve been together for seven years, shouldn’t we get married?” A flicker of panic crossed his face, quickly replaced by a forced smile. “Why are you bringing this up again? Honey, I told you, I’m in a career upswing right now, I need to focus on competitions. Marriage can wait…” “Then announce me,” I interrupted him. “Clarify that I am your girlfriend. I don’t like people speculating about you and Tara.” He frowned. “Why do you care what strangers on the internet say? As long as we’re good, isn’t that enough?” “You used to say not to go public because you were afraid of upsetting your fans.” I stared into his eyes. “What about now? Aren’t your fans supportive?” “Don’t be difficult, Jasmine. If I announce you now, how will the public view Tara?” He looked away, his voice softening as he tried to appease me: “Listen, I’m doing this to protect you, aren’t I?” “Protect me?” “If your past working at the club as a bartender were dug up, you know how vicious people online are; they’d definitely cyberbully you.” I looked at the man before me, feeling an unprecedented sense of unfamiliarity. “Are you afraid they’ll slander me, or are you afraid they’ll look down on you?” William’s face changed. “Jasmine, what do you mean by that?” “Are you afraid others will look down on me, or is it that you look down on me?” Silence cut through the air like a knife, slicing me inch by inch. “Fine.” I nodded, my voice beginning to tremble. “You won’t say it, will you? Then I’ll say it for you. “You’re the last person who has the right to look down on me!” “Back then, you were dead set on e-sports, cooped up at home playing games all day. If I hadn’t gone to the club to earn extra money to support you, would you be where you are today?” William’s face flushed instantly. “Why are you bringing this up? Are you trying to use it against me? “Haven’t I given anything? Haven’t I been good to you all these years? Haven’t I provided emotional support?” His arrogant words left me stunned. A tight cramp seized my lower abdomen. “Get out.” My voice suddenly became calm. He was bewildered. “What?” “Get out.” I pointed to the door. “I don’t want to see you.” His face alternated between red and white. He slammed the door shut as he left. 5 In the evening, I drifted into a drowsy sleep. Woken by a ringing phone. My best friend’s voice was frantic: “Jasmine! Come downstairs quickly! I’m outside your building, it’s urgent!” My head throbbed as if it would split open, my throat sore and dry. “I’m not feeling well today, can we reschedule?” “No! Hurry down! It’s a big deal!” I struggled to get up, felt my forehead—it seemed I was feverish again—and threw on a jacket before heading downstairs. I was shoved into a car and driven directly to a fancy club. The moment the private room door opened, confetti sprayed over my face. “Surprise!” William had hired a party planning team. The room was filled with balloons and lights, and there was even a photographer. A banner hung on the wall—”Jasmine, I’m Sorry.” William stood in the center, holding a large bouquet of roses, his smile gentle and sincere. “Honey.” He walked over, knelt on one knee, and placed the flowers in my arms. “This morning was my fault, my attitude was wrong. I regretted it the moment I left, and I felt I had to formally apologize.” “All these friends are here to witness. I promise I’ll never argue with you again. Please forgive me, okay?” Everyone applauded and cheered: “Forgive him! Forgive him!” I stood at the doorway, feeling cold all over. But not a trace of emotion. All I wanted was for us to be together, a quiet hug, just the two of us. Not like this. Not a room full of people, not confetti and banners. Not being put on display for everyone to watch, forced to nod, forced to smile magnanimously, forced to forgive. William got up, put an arm around my shoulder, and looked down at me: “What’s wrong? You look terrible. Still upset?” Before I could open my mouth. Tara squeezed in, holding a glass of wine, and with a sweet smile, offered it to me. “Jasmine, please forgive William.” “You don’t know how much effort he put in today. He started running around arranging the venue first thing this morning, even picked out the balloon colors himself. We’re all so jealous of you.” She paused, then tilted her head to look at me. “But Jasmine, you haven’t even smiled since you walked in.” “William put in so much effort, you should at least give him some face. So many people are watching; it makes things so hard for him…” Her tone was aggrieved and innocent. The entire room fell silent. Everyone’s gaze landed on me. William’s hand on my shoulder stiffened. I looked at him. Then at Tara. Suddenly, I smiled. “You envy me? Envy me for what? “Envy that every birthday, every anniversary, every surprise is such a half-hearted gift? “Envy that after a long day, I still have to force myself to party all night with a group of people, and at the end of the month, I’m still robbing Peter to pay Paul to pay off credit cards, because my boyfriend says he spent all his money on me? “Or envy that I’ve been in a relationship for seven years, and it still has to be kept a secret?” The room was completely silent. William’s face changed: “Jasmine, you—” I pushed his hand away, looking at Tara. “You want them?” I picked up the bouquet of roses and placed them in her arms. “They’re yours. “And William, if you want him so much, he’s yours too.” Tara stood there, stunned, holding the flowers. “Jasmine!” William grabbed my wrist, his voice very low. “I know you’re still angry with me. I’ve already apologized. There are so many people here; give me some face. Let’s go home and talk, okay?” “I don’t want your apology.” William panicked, his face alternating between red and white: “Then what do you want? Tell me! I’ll do anything, alright?” “Do you want me to announce our relationship? If you really want that, then I can forget about my career and announce you as my girlfriend right now…” He stopped. Because I gently pulled away from him, smiling and shaking my head. “I don’t want it anymore.” I turned to walk out. William chased after me, grabbing my wrist again: “Jasmine, explain yourself! What do you mean, you don’t want it anymore?” “Let go!” I struggled to shake him off. In my panic, my side violently hit a metal door handle. Sharp pain shot through me, quickly spreading to my entire abdomen. A spasm came from deep within my lower belly, as if something was being fiercely clutched and torn downwards. I doubled over in pain, cold sweat already breaking out. William looked down and saw my other hand clamped tightly over my lower abdomen, my fingers trembling violently. “Jasmine?” His voice changed in fear. “What’s wrong with you?” I couldn’t control my body as I slid down, yet I still forced myself to open the private room door and walk out. William’s pupils contracted sharply; he suddenly embraced me. “Let go of me!” He held me tighter, his voice trembling: “Jasmine! What’s wrong? You look so pale—” My vision went black. Just then, a hand reached out from the side, gripping William’s wrist. With a forceful twist. William cried out in pain, his hand loosening its grip. I fell backward, but into an embrace. A voice came from above my head, deep and restrained. “Didn’t you hear her tell you to let go of her?”

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I was the chosen shield for the ruthless gang lord’s beloved. Three years into our marriage, I was kidnapped by his enemies for the eighth time. Ace arrived with his men to rescue me. The negotiation lasted barely five minutes before the young girl’s call came through. “Ace, my dare game led to a kiss, but I want to save my first kiss for you.” “Can you come to me?” The moment Ace turned to leave without hesitation, the knife plunged into my abdomen, blood gushing out. His men, just like the seven times before, paid them off and then sent me to the hospital. In the ambulance, I vaguely overheard someone speculating if I’d live to see the day that girl could stand on her own. They burst into laughter, while I wept silently. The mission to save the gang lord had failed, and the system was about to erase me. Ace, I won’t make it to that day. 1 The doctor sighed softly beside my ear. “Ms. Spiller, your uterus was already damaged from your last miscarriage, and now it’s been stabbed in that very spot again.” “I’m afraid you won’t be able to bear children anymore.” I stared at the pristine white ceiling, my voice sounding as if it came from a distant place. “It’s fine.” After the doctor left, I heard the system sigh too. “Mission failed. You will be erased.” “Do you want to restart the mission and continue saving him?” I shook my head. “Erase me.” “Understood. Erase protocol initiated. You have 72 hours remaining.” I closed my eyes, the silence around me almost unnerving. But soon, a strange impulse led me to open Chloe Vance’s live stream. Today, she was painting live from the hilltop mansion Ace had bought her. The young girl, in Ace’s oversized men’s shirt, her hair in a messy bun, was mixing colors in front of an easel. In the camera, her cheeks were flushed, and her smile was pure and lovely. “My clothes? Oh, they’re my boyfriend’s. My own shirts were just… impossible to wear.” “It was quite… intense last night, actually.” As she spoke, she glanced back shyly at the person just out of frame. She mumbled, “I never expected my first kiss and first time to happen on the same day…” A man’s deep, gentle voice drifted in. “My apologies. I’ll be gentler next time.” The chat exploded with cheers. [Chloe finally got her man! More daily couple content, please!] “Couple content is a bit tricky. My boyfriend has a special job, so he can’t show his face.” As she spoke, a little red paint stained the sleeve of her shirt. Chloe let out a small “oops,” and the man’s long, slender fingers reached over to roll up her sleeve for her. A cute little peach ring on her ring finger was revealed. “It’s okay if it gets dirty.” Chloe’s blush deepened. She giggled, then was suddenly pulled away by the man. From off-camera, sounds of kissing and heavy breathing, leaving much to the imagination, filled the air. The live stream comments flew by, one catching my eye: [I think I just heard Ace Evans, the gang lord.] The man spoke, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop instantly. “I am not.” The live stream abruptly ended. I put down my phone and drifted back into a heavy sleep. I dreamt of a time I was cleaning and accidentally got dust on his white shirt. I apologized profusely, but he still flew into a rage, scolding me for touching his belongings. He threw that white shirt away like trash, and I never saw any of his clothes in the house again. The last image in my dream was Ace’s back. It was eerily similar to his back over the past three years, each time he’d rushed off because of Chloe, leaving me to my torment. I woke up groggily, and the first thing I saw was a peach ring. My gaze traveled upwards to Chloe, who had changed into a simple T-shirt and jeans. She was cheerfully sipping chicken soup from a thermos. The housekeeper’s face held an apologetic expression: “Mrs. Spiller, it’s all my fault. I only made one serving of soup for you, and it turns out Miss Chloe loves it too.” “Oh dear, I drank it all! Clara, I’m so, so sorry!” Chloe seemed to just realize it was my nourishing meal, and her eyes welled up with tears. When Ace walked in, he saw her clutching her hands, repeatedly bowing to me. “Clara Spiller, what are you doing now?! Chloe came to see you because she was worried!” The housekeeper looked a little awkward, wanting to explain, but Chloe cut her off: “Ace, please don’t be angry. My mouth was just so greedy. As soon as I smelled the chicken soup, I couldn’t help but have a couple of sips, and then I just drank it all… Clara has every right to be mad at me…” She cried so piteously that Ace’s heart ached. “It’s just a bowl of chicken soup. You can have all you want when you’re discharged. Why are you picking a fight with Chloe?” He looked coldly at the housekeeper: “Chloe hasn’t had much appetite lately, and she rarely enjoys your chicken soup. Go back now and make another pot, and deliver it to Chloe’s hilltop mansion.” The housekeeper scurried away. Ace’s expression softened as he bent down to wipe away Chloe’s tears. “Don’t cry anymore, or you’ll be a little mess.” Chloe broke into a smile, throwing herself into his arms. “You’re making fun of me again.” The two left the hospital room, giggling, and silence once again settled around me. To my surprise, the familiar cycle of misunderstandings, scoldings, and accusations, which had played out countless times, now stirred no ripple within me. I no longer wanted to argue, to make a scene, or to explain myself. An hour later, as the doctor was checking my wound, Ace’s henchmen sauntered in, urging me to get discharged quickly, as his enemies were still stirring. One of them, taking pity on me, asked if I wanted more pain medication. I shook my head. “It’s fine.” I’ve grown accustomed to this pain. 2 His men dropped me off at the doorstep, tossing a bag of medicine at me before driving away. Ace treated me as if I were nothing, and his people regarded me like dirt. I unlocked the door, carrying the bag, only to find the house cold and empty; even the cleaning staff were gone. Ace’s call came through, his voice as cold and devoid of warmth as ever. “Chloe’s not feeling well. Your housekeeper is meticulous, so I sent them all over there.” “You’ll have to stay by yourself for a few days. They’ll come back once Chloe feels better.” He said it as if it were the most natural thing, as if the person who had been stabbed five times by his enemies and nearly died was Chloe. “Okay.” Hearing my indifferent tone, he paused for a moment, then continued: “Jot down anything you want to eat, and the housekeeper will make it for you when they come back.” “Okay.” Even through the phone, I could sense his frown. “What’s with the attitude, all for a bowl of chicken soup?” “Clara Spiller, don’t you forget, when I married you, I told you you were just a shield for Chloe. Don’t think that after three years as Mrs. Evans, you can walk all over Chloe!” I nodded mechanically. “Okay.” “You…” Just as his anger flared, Chloe called out to him. “Ace, come quickly and have some cake!” The call ended. 48 hours left until the system erased me. I felt a little hungry, but when I went to the kitchen, I found all the groceries gone, the refrigerator completely empty. Due to Ace’s peculiar identity, he never allowed me to order takeout. I rummaged through the cupboards and drawers, managing to find a single packet of expired instant noodles. The kettle had been broken and unrepaired, so I used hot water from the water heater to prepare them, then placed the bowl on the dining table. My phone chimed, showing Chloe was live streaming. Today, they weren’t at the hilltop mansion. The background seemed to be a hot spring resort. Chloe, in a loose T-shirt, was eating chocolate cake while interacting with her viewers. The man off-camera occasionally speared a piece with his fork, gently feeding it to her. [Can’t you really show your daily romance? Those fingers definitely belong to a hottie!] Chloe stuck out her tongue. “My boyfriend is the most handsome man in the world. Every time he smiles, my heart just melts.” “He chased me first, but I’m a bit timid, afraid of everything, so I dragged it out until now before saying yes.” “The cake is sweet, but not as sweet as we are.” The man stroked her hair, and her cheeks turned crimson when she smiled. Chloe finished half the cake, and I finished my unappetizing instant noodles. In the live stream, her other phone lit up. Her eyes went red as she looked at it, revealing a surprised expression. A few seconds later, she burst into heart-wrenching sobs in front of over a hundred thousand viewers. The live stream abruptly ended. I was still in a daze when Ace’s call came through. He immediately launched into a furious tirade: “Clara Spiller, all for a bowl of chicken soup, for a few housekeepers, you actually posted about Chloe and me dating online!” “If Chloe gets hurt because of this, dying ten times wouldn’t be enough!” I opened my mouth to speak: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. After I got home, I was just eating…” “Still denying it? Chloe said she only accidentally sent those pictures to you, no one else has seen them, not even me!” “Besides, the resort where we’re eating today, you’ve been there before.” “You were just in the live stream. I saw you.” His last few words were laced with a grinding fury. If I were in front of him right then, he would probably have kicked me down, forcing me to my knees to apologize to Chloe. Just like last winter, when Chloe had period cramps and specifically demanded I take care of her. But my body was weak after the miscarriage, and I had barely uttered “I’m sorry” before he grabbed my shoulders and shoved me down. That day, I must have knocked my head ten times, leaving my face covered in blood, before Chloe finally cried and said she forgave me. Ace’s angry breathing from the phone dragged me back from my memories. I looked down at the instant noodle soup and said, “It wasn’t me. I had no reason to do that.” Chloe cried again. “Ace, someone outside seems to be watching me. I’m so scared…” After the call ended, I sat motionless at the dining table, lost in thought. Sure enough, just ten minutes later, Ace’s men punched in the code and burst in, dragging me out like a sack of potatoes. “Hurry, Boss wants you to shield Miss Chloe!” 3 The hot spring resort had an enormous floor-to-ceiling glass window. I was instructed to sit at the dining table in front of the window and read. In the safest corner of the room, Ace was gently comforting a weeping Chloe. “Don’t be scared. I’m here. I’ll protect you.” She buried herself in his arms, her delicate hands clutching his expensive custom cashmere sweater. “Ace, will they kill me? I’m so afraid, I hate pain…” “No, they won’t. It’s safe here. Ace promises you’ll be fine.” Her sobs gradually subsided, and Chloe sniffled. “Ace, what would I do without you?” “Don’t talk nonsense. How could you be without me? I’ll always be with you, until we grow old.” The sounds of their kissing were too obvious. Even if I concentrated on my book, every detail reached my ears. The sounds lasted for half an hour, only stopping at the final stage. “Ace, Clara is still here. She is your wife, after all. Maybe you should find someone to protect her?” Ace glanced at me coldly. “If she hadn’t exposed our photos and location, you wouldn’t be so scared. She deserves this.” I desperately wanted to read the words on the page, but my vision was blurred. Why did tears still fall, when I supposedly no longer felt that agonizing pain? I didn’t understand, and I didn’t want to. After an unknown amount of time, the accumulated pain and exhaustion of the past few days made me drift off to sleep. I woke up to the sound of “24 hours left” ringing in my ears, accompanied by Ace’s slap across my face. “Clara Spiller, how could you be so vicious, sneaking in while I was asleep!” As I quickly stood up, I pulled at the wound on my abdomen, letting out a sharp gasp. “Don’t play innocent. Tell me, where is Chloe?!” It was then I realized I had somehow entered the bedroom. And Chloe was gone. “I don’t know. I remember I was at the floor-to-ceiling window last night…” “Cut the crap. Where did you send Chloe?!” I shook my head. “I don’t know.” “Clara Spiller, you’d better genuinely not know, or I swear I won’t let you off!” Ace said, gritting his teeth, then stormed out, making countless calls until he finally located Chloe. “Get a few men here, and bring her along!” I was bound at the feet and trapped in the back seat of Ace’s car. He drove himself, pressing the accelerator to the floor. In three years of marriage, this was the first time I’d seen him lose control like this. When we arrived at the beach, Chloe was tied by her wrists and suspended from a boat, crying hysterically. “Ace, why did you take so long? I’m so scared, please save me!” “Chloe!” Ace shouted her name anxiously, then glared menacingly at the enemies on the boat. “Let her go. I’ll give you my wife, plus two territories and ten businesses, in exchange.” The leader of the enemies, his face scarred, grinned. “Deal.” As I was slowly hoisted up, Ace was tightly embracing Chloe, whispering soothing words. When I reached the highest point, he turned and walked away with the woman he loved. I saw that back again, but this time, Chloe was by his side. The enemy leader lit a cigarette, then glanced sideways. “Do it.” The searing hot iron pressed against my skin, and I couldn’t help but cry out in agony. “Just kill me!” He shook his head: “If you die too quickly, it would be an injustice to my fallen brothers.” “Better to slowly torture you, so everyone in the underworld can see that Ace Evans isn’t so terrifying after all.” I struggled and twisted my body, but the branding iron always found its mark, hurting me so much I couldn’t even speak. I don’t know how many times he burned me. I was on the verge of losing consciousness from the pain when they finally lowered me. But just as I caught my breath, I felt a sharp sting on my wrist. He cut my wrist with a knife, then plunged it into the sea! Blood flowed into the ocean, instantly staining the seawater a vivid red. I was pressed down, unable to move, but my head was forcibly turned to my wrist, forcing me to watch my own blood drain away. Suddenly, I smiled. Ace, if I die here, will you find another shield for your young girl? Or will you simply marry her and take her home? But either way, it will no longer concern me. My consciousness gradually blurred. Before I completely slipped away, Ace’s men finally arrived, belatedly. I heard muffled negotiations, and then I was lifted onto an ambulance. Inside the vehicle, they were playing cards and laughing raucously, their noise keeping me from sleep. In my daze, I heard someone say: “Boss truly dotes on Miss Chloe. He wasn’t even going to pursue it, but the moment he saw Miss Chloe’s wrist was scraped, he got so angry he personally killed all those people.” “Hey, have you heard? Boss decided to retire from the gang for Miss Chloe.” 4 When I was resuscitated, the system informed me I had six hours left. I suddenly remembered what they said in the ambulance. Ace, because Chloe’s wrist was scraped, was going to retire from the gang. I looked down at the bandaged wounds on my wrist and the countless scars covering my body, a bitter smile on my face. Something that took me three years to achieve was, it turned out, so easily accomplished. Only, the one who completed the task wasn’t me. With four hours left, I ignored the hospital’s protests and, leaning on my fragile body, returned to the villa. Before I left, I wanted to take one last look at that medical report. But when I struggled back, I found the yard in disarray, the house completely empty. The guest bedroom was turned upside down. The things in the drawer were gone. I hastily called Ace. He answered, full of impatience: “I’m going to retire from the gang. All my previous properties will be sold, and I’ll buy new ones after everything’s clean.” “Just find somewhere to stay. Once Chloe’s emotionally stable, we’ll get a divorce.” I opened my mouth: “But the things in my bedroom drawer…” “Clara Spiller, don’t push your luck!” “Chloe’s injuries are all your fault. Sending my men to save you was already more than enough. Are you seriously expecting me to buy you a separate house just for the jewelry in your drawer?” I had nowhere to go, and I didn’t need to find a place to live. With three hours left, I sat on the doorstep, basking in the sun. The sunlight warmed my skin, but it couldn’t thaw my gradually chilling body. The garden gate creaked open, and I looked up to see Chloe, arms crossed, leaning against the gate and staring at me. “You’re truly lucky. You still haven’t died.” I paused, then smiled softly. “Soon. Don’t worry.” She was about to say something when she suddenly heard a sound and immediately dropped her arms. Tears sprang to her eyes. “Clara, I didn’t mean it, please don’t be angry, okay?” “You just got discharged, you shouldn’t get upset. I’ll ask the housekeeper to make you some chicken soup right away…” Before she could finish, Ace burst in, enraged, his phone held up in front of me. The chat log displayed a message someone had sent him. “Boss, your wife is quite something. She mass-emailed your enemies, telling them you love Chloe, and they should go after Chloe from now on, not her.” “Photos and addresses are all there. Chloe’s social media accounts have been exposed.” Ace, in a frenzy, kicked me hard in the chest. “I shouldn’t have sent anyone to save you. You’d be better off dead there!” I gasped for air, and as I looked up, the sun blinded me. A gun was pressed against my forehead, the barrel icy cold, sending a shiver down my spine. “It wasn’t me.” In these three years, I seemed to say those three words often. Chloe ran over and stopped him, crying, “Ace, Clara didn’t mean it. It’s my fault for taking the person she loved. It’s normal for her to hate me, so please don’t hurt her. She just got out of the hospital…” “It’s okay if the accounts are gone. It’s fine if they come after me. I can handle it…” Ace hugged her, his heart aching. He turned to look at me, his teeth gritted. “I really regret ever finding you. You’re restless and vicious!” His men called him: “Boss, several of our enemies are offering bounties for Miss Chloe’s life, what should we do?!” “Maybe you should take Miss Chloe abroad to hide. Someone must have told them Miss Chloe is at the villa, they’re already heading that way!” Ace’s eyes flickered. “I know who told them.” He started a live stream, appearing on camera for the first time in his life, but quickly turned the camera to face me. “I am Ace Evans. As of today, I’m retiring from the gang and will no longer be involved in underworld affairs.” “All of you who have grievances and grudges, come find her. Everything I’ve done in the past was at her instigation. Now, I no longer wish to be with her. She’s yours to deal with.” I gasped for air. “I shielded Chloe for three years. Now you want me to die for you?” Ace grabbed my collar and dragged me all the way to the main road. As he threw me down and walked away, he left a cold parting remark: “This is all your own doing. Whether you live or die is up to fate.” This was the last time I saw his back. Cold, resolute. He disappeared. Not even ten minutes later, countless enemies swarmed from all directions. They unleashed all their pent-up resentment and fury on me, no one holding back. My tendons were severed, my legs broken, and countless knives plunged into my chest. They roared for revenge for their relatives, brothers, and friends, gripping my chin and demanding an apology. But I felt as if I had lost all sensation of pain, only staring blankly at the clear blue sky. It was good. Before I died, I could see a vast expanse of blue, not a single cloud in sight. Just like the day I first entered this world. “Mission failed. Erase protocol initiated.” “In one hour, all your identity information will be erased. Clara Spiller will completely vanish from this world.”

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