Category: English

Everyone in high society knows I’m just a dog kept by the Sterling family. The true heiress of the Sterling family is my twin sister, Mia. She is the apple of everyone’s eye. While I am merely the fake brought out to take the blame whenever she makes a mistake. Only my uncle, Arthur Sterling, would secretly bring me pastries when I was punished to kneel in the ancestral hall. “Chloe, bear with it a little longer. Once Uncle takes control of the Sterling family, I’ll take you away.” For this, Mia despised me to the core, finding every way to torment me, all of which Arthur quietly deflected. Until Arthur finally defeated my father and became the new head of the Sterling family. I thought my suffering was finally over, but when I pushed open his bedroom door, I saw him and Mia passionately entangled in bed. “If your dear niece knew that you went to such great lengths to ruin the Sterling family just so she’d have no way out and become your dog, would she go crazy?” In an instant, I felt like I had plunged into an abyss. Faced with my devastated questioning, Arthur didn’t even bat an eyelid. “Since you know everything, I won’t bother pretending anymore.” “This is the Sterling family’s underground fighting ring. If you want freedom, win against all the opponents I arrange for you and walk out of there alive.” … My entire body stiffened; I thought I was dreaming. “What, you don’t believe it?” He chuckled lightly. “Did you really think I stopped Mia because my heart ached for you?” “I just didn’t want my toy to be broken by someone else before I got to play with it.” Mia also poked her head out from the room at that moment. “Sister, did you really think Uncle loved you?” She walked up to me. “The only person he has ever loved is me.” “As for you, you’re just a replacement who looks like me. Not even a replacement, really, just a dog that needs to be trained.” “Looking at your eyes, you want to kill us, don’t you? The more you hate, the more excited I get.” I stared dead at Arthur, my voice unbelievably hoarse. “Why… you weren’t like this before!” “There is no why,” Arthur walked to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass of wine. “From the day your father picked me up, I was just a tool for him to climb higher. Now, I’m taking back what’s mine. Is there a problem?” “And you, Chloe Sterling, are just a part of my spoils of war.” “Think it’s unfair? There is no fairness in this world.” “You’ve enjoyed the title of the eldest Miss Sterling for twenty years. Now, it’s time for you to pay the price.” Too lazy to say more, he waved his hand impatiently, and two men in black suits appeared behind me. “Take her to the fighting ring, let her learn the rules.” Before I could even react, one of them grabbed my hair and roughly dragged me out. A tearing, agonizing pain radiated from my scalp. As we passed Mia, she leaned close to my ear and whispered: “Sister, guess who the first fighter will be?” “It’s that bodyguard whose leg Uncle broke just because he took an extra look at you.” “He… must be missing you like crazy right now.” Arthur’s voice came from behind. “To make it more interesting, all your opponents will be men.” “Chloe, don’t disappoint me.” He added a hint of playfulness, “At least, try to live a bit longer.” I was dragged into the elevator; the feeling of weightlessness made my stomach churn. Ding— The elevator doors opened, and the frantic, roaring sound engulfed me instantly. I was roughly pushed out, stumbled a few steps, and bumped into a man’s back. The man saw me, froze for a second, and then let out an obscene whistle: “Yo, Mr. Sterling’s new toy? So tender, it’d be a pity to beat her to death right away.” The people around immediately erupted in laughter. Looking at these crazed faces, I laughed, laughing at myself for ever having illusions about Arthur. I was thrown into a spartan room. A bodyguard threw a set of black lace lingerie at my feet. “Mr. Sterling’s orders. Put it on.” The fabric was pathetically sparse; it couldn’t even cover my body. “What if… I don’t?” The bodyguard sneered and lit up his phone screen. On it was a photo of my grandmother in her nursing home. “Mr. Sterling said, if you don’t behave, your grandmother might have a sudden heart attack in the nursing home at any time.” The last trace of color drained from my face. Without another word of nonsense, I took that ridiculous lingerie and, under the bodyguard’s explicit, greedy gaze, took off my clothes piece by piece. I straightened my back, allowing those gazes to flay me. The corridor leading to the fighting ring was lined with people. The moment I appeared, whistles and filthy teasing were incessant. “Is this tonight’s appetizer? Mr. Sterling is really getting more and more creative.” “Fighting in that? I bet she won’t last ten seconds!” “Ten seconds? I bet she pees her pants the moment she gets in the ring!” Step by step, I walked towards the iron cage spotlighted in the center. Arthur was sitting in the VIP seats directly facing the cage door. Mia was wrapped around him, smiling and saying something to him. Seeing me, Mia’s smile grew even more triumphant. She raised her glass to me and mouthed silently: “Good luck.” The referee stopped me and loudly announced the rules tailor-made for me. “First, for the sake of fairness, Miss Sterling cannot use any weapons.” The crowd erupted in a burst of laughter. A woman without the strength to tie a chicken, wearing lingerie, and they were actually saying it was for “fairness” that she couldn’t use weapons. “Second, to increase entertainment value, Miss Sterling is not allowed to retreat more than three steps during the match; otherwise, it’s an automatic loss.” This meant I could only take hits head-on, unable to dodge. “Third, and most importantly,” the referee drew out his voice, “after each round, the audience will vote to decide a special program to be completed jointly by Miss Sterling and the victor.” What the so-called “special program” was, went without saying. The cheers almost blew the roof off. Arthur’s gaze landed on me. He wanted to see me break down, see me kneel and beg for mercy. “What if I win?” The referee froze, seemingly never having considered this question. Arthur, however, twitched the corner of his mouth. “You win? That would be even more interesting.” “Win all the matches, and you can walk out of here alive.” He paused, “And, you can do whatever you want to your final opponent.” “Including killing him.” As he said this, his eyes stayed fixed on me, as if hinting at something. Mia giggled in his arms. “Uncle, you think too highly of her. She can barely stand steady.” Before she finished speaking, I mimicked the posture of a fighter, striking a clumsy combat stance. My ridiculous lingerie, coupled with this comical movement, instantly ignited roaring laughter from the entire audience. “Hahahaha! What does she think she’s doing? Dancing Swan Lake?” “Oh my god, I’m dying of laughter. Where did Mr. Sterling find this clown?” The smile on Arthur’s face deepened; it was the pleasure of watching a clown perform. Only a friend beside him frowned and whispered: “Arthur, isn’t this a bit too far? She is your niece after all.” Arthur’s eyes instantly turned cold: “Shut up! I have no niece here, only my plaything.” The moment the words fell, memories of his past with me flashed through his mind. He picked up his wine glass, using the alcohol to suppress that fleeting fluctuation. I slowly lowered my hands and, facing Arthur in the VIP box, clearly enunciated two words: “I accept.” The opponent for the first round was indeed the bodyguard Mia had mentioned, Carter. He limped onto the stage, the look in his eyes towards me full of sick excitement. “Eldest Miss Sterling, long time no see. Didn’t expect to meet in a place like this, did you?” He sneered, rolling his wrists. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you die too quickly.” “I’ll break your bones inch by inch, let you taste what I went through back then.” At the referee’s command, Carter lunged at me fiercely. I instinctively retreated, and the referee’s voice rang out, reminding me of that ridiculous “no retreating more than three steps” rule. I forced myself to stop, meeting his massive fist. Bang! A heavy punch landed squarely on my abdomen. The intense pain instantly made my body arc, acid rushing straight up my throat. He didn’t give me any chance to breathe, grabbing my hair and smashing my face fiercely against the chain-link fence. “Scream! Why aren’t you screaming? Weren’t you so high and mighty before!” The rough wire scraped my cheek, leaving streaks of blood. The roars and whistles of the crowd grew even more frenzied. “Useless thing, can’t even dodge.” Mia’s sharp voice drifted over. “Uncle, look at her, she really embarrasses the Sterling family.” Arthur didn’t speak, just picked up his wine glass and took a sip. The pain made me almost lose consciousness, but Carter’s insults, Mia’s mockery, and Arthur’s coldness—these things kept me awake. The moment Carter grabbed my head to smash it against the wire mesh again, I used all my strength to ruthlessly knee him in the groin! “Aaargh—!” Carter let out a miserable shriek, clutching his crotch and falling to the ground in agony. No one expected that this seemingly weak woman would use such a ruthless move. I took the opportunity to break free, leaning against the wire mesh, panting heavily. Despite the excruciating pain all over my body, a sliver of satisfaction rose in my heart. In the VIP box, Mia opened her mouth wide in surprise: “She… how dare she!?” However, my counterattack did not bring victory. After twitching on the ground for a few seconds, Carter abruptly raised his head, filled with a crazed murderous intent. “Bitch! You’re dead!” He leaped up from the ground, his fists raining down on my face like a storm. I was beaten completely defenseless and soon collapsed on the ground. He stepped on the back of my hand, slowly turning his heel, grinding down with force. Crack. The crisp sound of bones breaking echoed throughout the arena. The severe pain made my vision go black, and I almost passed out. “Stop!” The referee’s voice rang out. “Carter wins!” Only then did Carter release his foot, his face showing the thrill of revenge: “Eldest Miss Sterling, how is the taste?” I lay on the cold ground, my consciousness blurring. On the large screen, the votes rolled rapidly, finally stopping on two words: “Lick toes.” The crowd cheered. Carter smugly extended his foot towards my face. “Come on, lick it clean, like a bitch.” At this moment, Arthur was watching this scene with great interest. Not only did he not stop it, he picked up the microphone and said to the entire arena: “It seems our Miss Sterling doesn’t quite understand the rules yet. Who will come teach her?” As soon as he spoke, two burly men stepped onto the stage, pressing down hard on the back of my neck, trying to force me to lick his foot. Over the next few matches, I became a joke. Every night, I was dragged back to that small room, and the next day dragged back into the ring, repeating the cycle of defeat and humiliation. “Striptease,” “Bark like a dog”… The special programs thought up by the audience became increasingly vulgar, each one trampling my dignity underfoot. But I never begged Arthur for mercy, not even once. My silence clearly angered him more than crying or screaming would have. The opponents he arranged for me grew stronger and stronger, even bringing in ruthless desperadoes. Until a butcher pulled out a dagger. The crowd went into an uproar, and even the referee looked towards Arthur. Arthur just said coolly: “In the fighting ring, life and death are on your own head.” The sharp knife slashed across my face, leaving a wound deep enough to show bone. Just when I thought I was going to die here, some dormant instinct within my body was awakened. I dodged a fatal thrust, used my shoulder to viciously ram into his ribs, followed by an extreme burst of energy. I won, in a tragic, desperate manner. I clutched my bleeding arm, looking coldly at the VIP box. The expression on Arthur’s face seemed to be one of heartache. But before that emotion could fully form, it was completely strangled by Mia’s vicious words. “Uncle, look at the way she’s looking at you. It’s like she wants to eat you alive.” “She’s an untamable wolf cub. Your soft-heartedness will only make her hate you more.” She leaned close to his ear and said something else. Arthur’s body clearly stiffened, and immediately, that trace of heartache in his eyes vanished completely. “You’re right, I was being too merciful.” He picked up the microphone and announced to the arena: “Tonight’s matches are over.” “But to reward our brave Miss Sterling, I have prepared a… truly special program for her.” As soon as he spoke, several men walked in, surrounding me with malicious intent. Leading them was Carter, the one who broke my hand in the first match. “Arthur! You’re crazy!” The friend who had previously advised him stood up again. “You can’t do this!” Arthur pushed him away. “What I do is none of your business!” “Chloe, this is your last chance.” “Kneel down right now, beg me, say you were wrong, say you’re willing to be my dog, and I’ll let you go.” Mia giggled beside him: “Sister, hurry up and beg for mercy. Look how much Uncle cares about you. All you have to do is kneel and wag your tail, and you can be saved.” I looked at those ugly faces and suddenly laughed. “Arthur Sterling, dream on.” My answer completely destroyed his last shred of patience. “Let her know what true despair is.” I didn’t struggle, nor did I cry out. I just opened my eyes wide, staring dead at that blurry figure in the VIP box. I don’t know how long it lasted before it was all over. I was just left like that in the center of the ring. “Arthur Sterling, you will regret this!!” I don’t know how much time passed before someone dragged me out of the iron cage like a dead dog, throwing me into a corner backstage. Arthur and Mia had also left. In the massive fighting arena, only a few cleaners were left, numbly cleaning up the mess. One of the older cleaners saw me, a flash of pity in his eyes. He quietly walked over and draped a reasonably clean employee jacket over my broken body. “Girl, get out of here.” “If you don’t leave now, you really won’t be able to.” I used all my strength to barely prop myself up, but the agonizing pain in my hand bones and my torn body made me fall again. Just then, a pair of expensive leather shoes stopped in front of me. It was the friend who had advised Arthur earlier, Julian. He took off his suit jacket, wrapped it completely around me, and picked me up in his arms. “Don’t be afraid, I’m taking you out of here.” I leaned against his chest, my consciousness wavering between wakefulness and passing out. I only heard him make a phone call. “Dr. Vance, do me a favor. Prepare the best room and doctor at your private hospital. I’m bringing someone over right now.” “Remember, use your name. Don’t let anyone trace it, especially not Arthur Sterling.” When I woke up again, I was lying in a clean, bright hospital room. My wrists were properly bandaged and immobilized, and the wounds on my body had been treated. Julian was keeping watch by the bed. Seeing me wake up, he breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re finally awake. You’ve been unconscious for two days.” I looked at him and rasped out, “Why did you save me?” “Because I still have a conscience.” “Arthur… he’s gone mad, blinded by hatred. I can’t just watch him destroy you, and destroy himself too.” I let out a cold laugh, the sound pulling at the wound on my face, a piercing pain. “Destroy himself? He’s riding high right now.” Julian remained silent for a moment, then handed me a tablet. “This is what I secretly copied. All the illegal records of Arthur consolidating assets, including the cash flow and transaction list of that underground fighting ring.” “I don’t know what you want to do, but I figured you’d need this.” I took the tablet, my fingertips turning white from gripping it so hard. “Why are you betraying him?” “He is my best friend,” Julian’s eyes dimmed, “But I can’t watch him turn into an absolute monster.” “And…” he paused, his voice low, “I owe you my life.” I was stunned. “Five years ago, your father planned a car accident to get rid of me. You secretly made an anonymous call to warn me, letting me escape.” “Although you never admitted it, I know it was you.”

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When I learned that my husband had been assigned to work in a remote location for another 7 years, I traveled a long way to find him. Arriving at his workplace, I was stopped by an older security guard. Upon hearing that I was looking for Arthur, his face drastically changed: “Why are you looking for my son-in-law?” I was struck by a bolt from the blue, thinking maybe it was just someone with the same name. But a worker chatting nearby laughed: “Uncle, what are you panicking for? Everyone for miles around knows Arthur is totally henpecked.” “Even if someone tried any funny business, your son-in-law wouldn’t dare.” He gestured towards me with his chin: “She might be someone sent from above for work.” Feigning calmness, I opened a photo of Arthur on my phone: “I have business to discuss with him. Is the Arthur you’re talking about this man?” The security guard let his guard down: “Yes, that’s my son-in-law.” The blood in my veins froze. Before long, a well-dressed woman approached me with a bright smile: “Are you looking for my man to talk about work?” “Let’s go wait at the house. Our son has a fever, so he took him to the hospital in town.” … I felt like I had been struck by lightning, staring at the woman in front of me, unable to breathe. Seeing me stunned, the woman warmly greeted me: “I’m Arthur’s wife, Chloe. Just call me Chloe.” She was very friendly, a smile constantly beaming on her face as she waved for me to follow her: “It’s all rough men around here, every one of them a pervert. It’s not safe for a woman to be here.” “Come wait at my house. It’ll be a while before he gets back.” As she spoke, she familiarly linked her arm through mine. As if possessed, I followed her footsteps. I stealthily examined this woman from the corner of my eye. Her skin was poor, her makeup skills lacking, with foundation settling into the creases under her eyes. Yet, it was still evident that she was more than 10 years younger than the 37-year-old Arthur. “Oh my, you city folks are really different. Your skin is so good, just like a peeled egg.” She stared at my face openly. Her eyes filled with envious light: “My man’s skin is just like yours, so soft.” She smiled amiably and enthusiastically: “It seems the city environment really nurtures people.” I forced a strained smile. She was right; both Arthur and I had that kind of smooth, delicate skin. Even though I was quite a bit older than her, thanks to good maintenance, I still looked like a girl in her early twenties. Not at all like a middle-aged woman who had been married for 12 years. But what did that matter? Even if I was pretty, had a good job, took care of the elders above and the child below… My husband still committed the ultimate betrayal behind my back, having another family. She was very talkative, chattering on endlessly. A couple riding a motorcycle approached and stopped as they passed us. The woman on the back of the motorcycle handed Chloe a bag of chestnuts: “Look how much your man thinks of you. Took the kid to the doctor and said you like chestnuts, so he asked me to bring a bag back for you.” Chloe smiled, accustomed to it: “He just worries too much.” I deliberately said: “Your husband treats you so well.” The woman on the motorcycle chimed in: “Her man treats her exceptionally well. If she tells Arthur to go east, he doesn’t dare go west.” “Arthur, who fears nothing in heaven or earth, is terrified when Chloe glares or sheds a tear!” Chloe’s smile remained habitual: “Sister-in-law, stop teasing me.” A sour, bitter feeling churned in my heart. It felt like God had played a massive joke on me. My highly educated husband, who sought equality in everything in our marriage, was actually acting as someone else’s henpecked husband out here. We arrived at Chloe’s house. Although located in a rural area, it didn’t look like a rural house at all. Instead, it was a very chic little country villa. “My man built this. Nice, right? It’s the only one of its kind in our village, and he’s also the first live-in son-in-law here.” My heart skipped a beat, shocked by the words “live-in son-in-law.” Entering the living room, I saw a family portrait hanging on the wall. A family of 6, everyone smiling happily. In the picture were a 5-year-old boy and a girl around 3. We have a family portrait like this in our living room too. Except, we only have one 10-year-old son, no daughter. The year he was dispatched by his unit, he held my face and swore: “Wife, believe me. At most 2 years, and I’ll find a way to get transferred back.” “When I return, if your health permits, we’ll have a second child, and our family will never be apart again.” But he was gone for 7 years. Except for a few days at home after the New Year, he was barely seen all year round. When he went back last year, I even expressed my regret to him about not having a daughter. Uncharacteristically, he said: “The general environment is bad right now; clear-headed young people aren’t having kids anymore.” “We have one son, that’s good enough. Why suffer through having a second child?” It turned out his thinking hadn’t changed; he just already had both a son and a daughter out here. “We have Wi-Fi at home, you can connect your phone to save data.” “The password is November 13th, my man specifically set it to my birthday.” She said this while smilingly bringing me tea. My heart Jolted again. Arthur had told me there was no internet in this mountainous area. So it was always him finding ways to contact me; I could never reach him. I opened my phone and connected to Chloe’s Wi-Fi; full signal. Lies were being dismantled before my eyes one after another, each one feeling like a knife stabbing my heart. Feigning composure, I said: “You two have such a good relationship. I heard he was dispatched here; aren’t you worried he’ll be transferred back?” Chloe kept a smile on her face: “Not worried. To be honest, my man almost got transferred back this time.” My heart tightened, fixated on her next words. “My man pulled a lot of strings to stay.” “He’ll probably stay for another 7 years. Once all the projects here are finished, my man said he’d rather resign than go back.” My heart felt like it had plummeted to the bottom of a cliff. So it wasn’t the company forcing him to be dispatched again; he applied for it himself! Even though he knew his mother was hospitalized with a stroke and his father had broken his leg, needing their son by their side to fulfill his filial duties. Even though his son’s eyes grew red time and time again, feeling wronged because he rarely saw his father all year. Even though he knew I, his wife, was exhausted managing everything inside and out, overwhelmed by work and family, nearly hospitalized from fatigue several times. He still comfortably lived a carefree life with another woman thousands of miles away. A cold chill made my shoulders tremble slightly. Thinking I was cold, Chloe immediately turned on the AC: “It won’t be cold in a minute. This AC my man bought me is a top brand.” Although she was smiling, she constantly brought up Arthur’s love for her, showing off their affection. “In this village, no one has AC, only my house does. Actually, AC costs a lot of electricity, I didn’t want to install it, but my man insisted, saying he was afraid I’d freeze in the winter.” With a strained smile still hanging on my face, I asked indirectly: “I feel like he’s quite a bit older than you. Is this his second marriage?” “He’s 10 years older than me, not a second marriage. I just got incredibly lucky.” The smile on Chloe’s face grew even happier: “God is good to me, letting someone like me, who only finished elementary school, find a man with a master’s degree.” “He came here as the project manager for development, practically the boss’s right-hand man. I could never have dreamed of being the wife of such a capable man.” “My man also says meeting me is the luckiest thing that ever happened to him.” She chattered on: “Actually, having an age gap is quite nice; he knows how to care for someone. My man is not only responsible at work but also responsible to the family.” “He gives me every penny of his monthly salary, and I only give him 200 bucks for cigarette money.” Bitterness churned within me. All these years, Arthur had been sending back $3,000 of his salary every month. He said room and board were covered here, and $100 was enough for pocket money. Their company’s accountant is my college roommate; I knew his monthly after-tax salary was $3,100. I probed: “With his high salary, the whole family must live well.” “Exactly, that’s why I say I struck gold. Not only is he good to me, but he’s even better to my parents.” “My mom has a bad back.” She pointed to the expensive massage chair next to the sofa: “This massage chair cost over $2,000; he bought it without blinking an eye.” “My dad likes to drink, so he buys cases of top-shelf liquor that cost hundreds of dollars a bottle.” “He also gives me $5,000 every month to spend however I want.” Hearing this, I was certain Arthur was embezzling and taking bribes. The bitterness in my heart was like gall, and I also felt sorrow for his parents. Three months ago, my mother-in-law was critically ill from a stroke. Crying outside the emergency room, I called him: “Arthur, come back. Mom is in resuscitation; she keeps murmuring that she wants to see you.” But he lied to me: “You’ve worked hard, wife. The construction project here has entered a critical phase; I really can’t get away.” “Mom is a good person and will be blessed; nothing will happen to her.” Many times when I was panicked, helpless, my legs so weak I could barely stand. His phone was either unreachable, or he couldn’t come back. He ignored his own family, his parents, and his child. Yet he played the role of a good husband, a good father, and a good son-in-law in another family. It was the ultimate irony, a fatal blow. Chloe’s phone rang. She didn’t avoid me. The speaker volume was just loud enough for me, sitting next to her, to hear clearly. He called her: “Wife.” His voice was gentle, in the exact same tone he usually used when calling me. “Son’s fever hasn’t broken yet; the doctor says we need to stay overnight in the hospital for observation.” “I don’t have enough money on me. Wife, transfer some money to me, $30 will do.” I sneered internally; what a family-oriented good man he was. Chloe smiled and said, “Got it, I’ll transfer it to you in a bit.” On the other end, Arthur worriedly instructed her: “Hubby can’t hold you to sleep tonight. Be good and go to sleep, cover yourself well so you don’t catch a cold.” “Not being by your side for one day makes my whole body uncomfortable.” These words were like sharp swords stabbing fiercely into my heart. Married for 12 years, we only had this kind of intimate sweetness in the first few years. Now, he hadn’t even been this attentive to our own son. Time made us an old married couple. And now it has made us the most familiar strangers drifting apart. The call ended. Chloe looked at me with a smile, just about to say something, then spoke as if remembering something: “By the way, I forgot to ask your name?” “Madeline.” “What a beautiful name, city folks really know how to name people.” She was still her talkative, enthusiastic self. Up until now, I was still thinking. She was most likely an innocent woman kept in the dark, just like me. “By the way, my man won’t be back today. Why don’t you stay here for the night, and when he gets back tomorrow, you can talk about work.” I agreed. During dinner, Chloe made a table full of good dishes with meat and vegetables. I met their daughter, whose eyes and brows looked very much like Arthur. Chloe’s parents weren’t as enthusiastic towards me, just superficially polite. They even looked at me with a bit of vigilance, a bit strangely. At the dinner table, the person they mentioned the most was Arthur. In their mouths, Arthur wasn’t a son-in-law, but a biological son. Chloe was an only daughter; in this remote area that heavily favored boys over girls, the old couple had never been able to hold their heads high their whole lives. It was Arthur’s appearance, becoming their live-in son-in-law and honoring them like biological parents, That allowed them to finally straighten their spines that had been bent for a lifetime. Chloe’s mother said: “Arthur is the pillar of our family; our family cannot do without him.” It felt as if an irremovable thorn was stuck in my throat. He didn’t support the roof of his own house, but propped up someone else’s year after year. When it was time to sleep, Chloe arranged for me to stay in the guest room next to her parents’ room. After the lights went out, I couldn’t fall asleep for a long time. I heard Chloe’s parents whispering in the next room for a long while. After much deliberation, I sent a whistle-blowing letter and video to the headquarters of Arthur’s company. And sent a message to my brother, who is a police officer: “I need you to work hard and come arrest Arthur; he broke the law.” These two decisions didn’t relieve my anger, but they were an accounting to my life. And the punishment he deserved. The next morning. Chloe brought her clothes for me to wear, afraid I’d dislike them, she specifically added: “My man just bought this for me; it’s been washed once but never worn.” “It’s quite cold here, you’re wearing a bit too little and might catch a cold.” I looked at the down jacket she brought over, a pure white, slim-fit long coat, a big brand that cost $590. I had looked at it all winter but couldn’t bear to buy it, adding it to my cart and removing it several times. Not that I couldn’t afford it, but with elders above and a child below, money had to be spent with planning. I had also complained to Arthur in the past: “Other husbands buy clothes for their wives. I’ve been with you for so many years, and I’ve never seen you buy me any.” He always smiled and said gently: “The money is all with you; buy whatever you want.” “I’m afraid you won’t like what I buy, and I don’t know how to pick women’s clothes either.” It turned out it wasn’t that he didn’t know how to pick; he just didn’t want to pick them for me. “Thank you.” I took the coat and put it on. It looked good and was warm. She paused, a flash of surprise in her eyes, unexpected that I didn’t politely decline. While eating breakfast, I listened to her chattering on, showing off their affection again. She also asked me what life was like in the city. She even asked me: “How are you doing?” I smiled faintly and said truthfully: “Not bad, just that my man doesn’t know how to dote on his wife as well as your man.” She grinned happily. Finally, noon arrived. The door was opened from the outside, and Arthur’s familiar voice came: “Wife, I’m back.” Chloe and I both stood up from the sofa and looked at him. “Which wife are you calling? Hubby.” I asked him with a cold face.

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“I’m pregnant.” I smiled and handed the pregnancy test to Mia for her to see. She took it and looked down at it. Silence. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. She looked up, her expression very strange. “Is the baby your husband’s?” I froze. “What do you mean?” She looked at me, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Nothing.” But I saw it. That trace of… Panic in her eyes. 1. Mia is my best friend. From high school to now, twelve years. When I got married, she was my bridesmaid. When I bought a house, she looked at over twenty properties with me. Whenever I fought with Arthur, she always took my side. “Men are all trash.” That was her catchphrase. She said she didn’t want to get married; she was fine on her own. Three years ago, she got pregnant. “Whose is it?” I asked her. She said it was a married man, they couldn’t go public. “Then what are you going to do?” “Have it.” She said it very calmly. “I’ll raise it alone.” My heart ached for her. During that time, her morning sickness was terrible. I went over after work every day to take care of her. When she gave birth, I was the one waiting outside the delivery room. When the baby turned one month old, I helped organize the celebration. She said money was tight. I lent her a total of eighty thousand dollars over time. She said it was fine. She’d pay me back slowly. It’s been three years. Not a cent has been paid back. I never pressed her. We’re best friends, after all. I always thought that way. Until today. Until she asked that question. “Is the baby your husband’s?” Sitting in the car, I repeatedly recalled her expression. That three-second silence. That trace of panic. And that inexplicable question. Why ask, “Is the baby your husband’s?” Shouldn’t a normal person say, “Congratulations”? I picked up my phone and scrolled through my chat history with Arthur. Very normal. Reporting his itinerary every day, “working overtime” two or three times a week. Working overtime. I suddenly remembered. Over the past three years, the number of times he worked overtime seemed to have increased. It used to be once or twice a month. Now it’s two or three times a week. I scrolled through his social media feed again. Very normal. Work, gym, the occasional selfie. No abnormalities whatsoever. But— I opened the app and found Mia’s feed. Three years ago, she started posting photos of her baby frequently. “Baby’s first smile.” “Baby’s first time calling Mom.” “Baby is three today!” I looked through them one by one. Suddenly, I stopped. There was a photo. The baby sitting on a man’s lap. The photo only captured the man’s lower half. Slacks. A belt. That belt. The birthday present I gave Arthur. 2. I stared at that photo for a long time. Maybe it was a coincidence. That specific belt was a few hundred dollars online, a lot of people bought it. Maybe it was just a coincidence. I put down my phone. Arthur said he was working overtime tonight, probably wouldn’t be back until ten. I waited for him. At nine-thirty, the door opened. When he walked in, I was sitting on the sofa. “You’re back?” “Yeah,” he said, changing his shoes. “Overtime today killed me.” “Want some water?” “Sure.” I went to pour water, taking a casual glance at his phone. He had placed his phone face down on the coffee table. Screen facing down. He never used to do that. “Honey.” “Hm?” “Where’s that belt? The one I gave you.” His movements paused for a second. “Which one?” “The Hermes one. The one I got you for your birthday last year.” “Oh, that one,” he took a sip of water. “It’s at the office. I switch them out sometimes.” “I haven’t seen you wear it lately.” “The style is a bit outdated.” He said it very naturally. Too naturally. Like he had rehearsed it. That night, I couldn’t sleep. At 2 AM, I looked at Arthur sleeping soundly beside me. I picked up his phone. I knew the passcode. His birthday. I opened his messaging app. Contacts. No Mia. I opened his text messages. Nothing. Call history. Nothing. Too clean. Abnormally clean. I opened his banking app. Transfer history. My heart started racing. March 2023, transfer: $5,000. April 2023, transfer: $8,000. May 2023, transfer: $5,000. Payee: Mia M. Mia’s last name was Miller. I kept scrolling down. Every single month. As little as three thousand, as much as twenty thousand. I scrolled to the earliest transaction. June 2021. Three years ago. The month Mia got pregnant. I calculated the total. Six hundred and eighty thousand. My hands were shaking. Six hundred and eighty thousand. I lent her eighty thousand and was always too embarrassed to ask for it back. My husband transferred her six hundred and eighty thousand. Six hundred and eighty thousand. I gently put the phone down and lay back in bed. The man beside me was breathing evenly, sleeping very deeply. I kept my eyes open until dawn. 3. The next day, I called in sick. I had to find out the truth. I went to the apartment complex where Mia lived. She lived on the Eastside, in an older complex; she said she was renting. At least, that’s what she said. I stood at the entrance of the complex and waited for two hours. At 10 AM, Mia came out. She was holding her baby’s hand. The baby was three years old, growing fast. I watched them from a distance. Mia made a phone call, looking very happy. I couldn’t hear what she was saying. But I saw her smile. A very sweet smile. They walked into the mall across the street. I didn’t follow them. I walked into the apartment complex. Found the property management office. “Hello, I’d like to check the property information for an apartment in this complex.” The property manager looked at me. “Who are you?” “I’m looking to buy a house. Someone recommended this complex.” I gave them Mia’s apartment number. The manager checked the computer. “This unit isn’t for sale. It’s owner-occupied.” “Who is the owner?” “It’s not convenient to disclose that.” I smiled and pulled two hundred dollars out of my purse. “I just want to confirm if it’s someone I know.” The manager looked at the money and lowered his voice. “Arthur Vance. Bought it three years ago, all cash.” All cash. Three years ago. The year Mia got pregnant. I walked out of the management office, my legs feeling a bit weak. Arthur bought a house for Mia to live in. All cash. I didn’t know how much. But I had checked the housing prices in this complex. At least two million. A two-million-dollar house. Six hundred and eighty thousand in transfers. And that child. I stood at the entrance of the complex, watching the people coming and going. Suddenly, I really wanted to laugh. Mia said she was renting. Mia said money was tight. Mia said it was so hard being alone. I lent her eighty thousand. Helped her take care of the kid. Helped her organize the one-month celebration. Helped her find a maternity nurse. I thought I was a good best friend. Turns out I was an idiot. 4. I had to see it with my own eyes. Not because I didn’t believe the evidence. But because— I needed to see what they looked like behind my back. It was a Friday. Arthur said he had a business dinner and wouldn’t be home for dinner. I said okay. At 6 PM, I drove and followed his car. He didn’t go to any dinner. He went to the Eastside. To Mia’s complex. I parked my car across from the complex. Watched him park his car, grab a bag, and enter the building. Twenty minutes later, a light turned on in a window. I stared at that window. At 7:30, a small figure pressed against the window. The baby. What was he waiting for? At 8:00, I saw a man walk to the window and pick the baby up. It was Arthur. He lifted the baby high, and the baby laughed. I couldn’t see what they were saying. But I saw Mia walk over too. She leaned against Arthur. The three of them stood in front of the window. Like a family. Like a normal, happy family of three. I sat in the car, staring at that window for a long time. I didn’t even notice when the tears started falling. I didn’t charge up there. I didn’t knock on the door. I just sat in the car until the early hours of the morning. Arthur came out at 11 PM. He got in his car and drove off. I knew he was going home. Back to our home. To lie down next to me. And then tell me, “Drank too much at the dinner.” At midnight, I got home. Arthur was already asleep. I stood in the doorway of the bedroom, looking at the man on the bed. Married for five years. I thought we were very happy. I thought he just occasionally worked overtime. I thought my best friend just had bad luck. Turns out— I knew absolutely nothing. 5. I started pretending I didn’t know anything. Working during the day, cooking at night, shopping with Arthur on weekends. He couldn’t see anything unusual. Because my acting was stellar. I spent a week gathering evidence. Transfer records: $680,000. Property info: In Arthur’s name, occupied by Mia. Photos: Over a dozen photos of Arthur and the baby, scraped from Mia’s social media. Chat logs: I found his secondary messaging account. He had two accounts on his phone. One that I knew about. The other had only one person in its contacts. The alias was “Wife.” It was Mia. I clicked open the chat history. “Hubby, the baby called me Daddy today.” “I’ll come over tonight.” “Miss you so much.” “Me too.” I scrolled down, message by message. All the way back to three years ago. “I’m pregnant.” “Have it. I’ll take care of you both.” “But you’re already married…” “I’ll get a divorce. When the time is right.” When the time is right. Three years. I waited for his “time is right.” I kept scrolling. Down to last month. “Hubby, what do we do if she’s pregnant?” “Ignore it for now. Let me think.” “You don’t actually want that kid, do you?” “I only want you and the baby.” I stared at those chat logs. He only wanted her and the baby. The child in my belly, he was going to “ignore it for now.” I touched my stomach. It wasn’t showing yet. The doctor said eight weeks. A little life. I thought it was a surprise. I thought Arthur would be thrilled. Turns out— My child, in his heart, was just a “nuisance.” I took screenshots of the chat logs, sent them to myself, and then deleted the sending history. I put his phone down. He was still sleeping. Sleeping very deeply. I looked at his face and suddenly felt he was a complete stranger. Married for five years. Turns out I never truly knew this person. 6. I met with a lawyer. “Mrs. Vance, I need to understand your situation.” “My husband cheated and has a child out of wedlock.” I handed him the evidence. Transfer records. Property info. Chat screenshots. Photos. The lawyer flipped through it all, his expression grave. “The evidence is very solid.” “I want a divorce.” “No problem,” the lawyer nodded. “Based on this evidence, you can claim severe fault on his part and fight for a larger share of the assets.” “I don’t want a larger share.” I looked at him. “I want him to leave with absolutely nothing.” The lawyer paused. “That… will be difficult.” “The house was bought before marriage; I paid the down payment, and he pays the mortgage. I can claim the appreciated value of the mortgage payments. The car was bought after marriage, that can be split. As for the savings, I have records of him transferring $680,000 to that woman over the past three years. I want him to pay that money back to me.” I listed them one by one. “Furthermore, he used marital assets to buy a house for the other woman, over two million in cash. I want that recovered.” The lawyer looked at me for a moment. “Mrs. Vance, you’ve done your homework.” “I have plenty of time.” I smiled. “He cheated for three years, I have three years of evidence.” The lawyer nodded. “I understand. I will help you prepare the materials.” “One more thing.” I looked at him. “That woman also has a husband.” The lawyer looked up. “Her husband doesn’t know about this.” I paused. “I want him to know.” The lawyer remained silent for a moment. “This is your personal matter, it’s not appropriate for me to interfere. But legally, you have the right to inform him.” “Good.” I stood up. “I’ll have the materials ready. Next week, I’m going to sit down and talk with them.” “How do you plan to do that?” “In front of both sets of parents.” I looked out the window. “I want everyone to know what they did.” 7. I called my in-laws. “Mom, come over for dinner this weekend, I have something to say.” “What is it?” “Good news.” I also called my parents. “Dad, come over this weekend, I have something to tell you.” “What is it?” “You’ll know when you get here.” Friday night, Arthur came home very early. “Wife, Mom and Dad are coming this weekend, what are you planning to cook?” “What do you want to eat?” “Anything. Whatever you make is delicious.” He smiled and put his arm around me. I didn’t dodge. “Hubby.” “Hm?” “Do you love me?” He froze for a second, then smiled. “Of course I do.” “What about Mia?” His smile stiffened. “What?” “Mia. My best friend. The baby’s mother.” I looked at him. “Do you love her?” His face changed. “What… what do you mean?” “That messaging account with the alias ‘Wife’, I saw it.” He took a step back. “You went through my phone?” “Six hundred and eighty thousand in transfers. That house on the Eastside. The baby calling you Daddy.” I enunciated every word. “Are you still going to pretend?” He opened his mouth. But nothing came out. “Mom and Dad are coming this weekend.” I smiled. “Let’s all have a chat.” His face went white. “What are you going to do?” “What am I going to do?” I looked at him. “I’m going to let everyone know that you and my best friend have been raising an illegitimate child behind my back for three years.”

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When Sebastian was exchanging wedding rings with me, he still had a sex toy in his pocket meant for him and his younger stepmother. And I, to get back at him, slept with his childhood best friend on our wedding night. I intentionally left marks. But when Sebastian saw the hickeys on my neck, he just casually dialed his friend’s number: “Sebastian, bro, your wife is really something else!” “I’m already addicted.” Sebastian sounded completely indifferent: “You like her? Then how about sleeping with her again tonight?” Like a madwoman, I smashed his phone to pieces. For the next five years, we became the most infamous purely hate-driven couple in our social circle. Until he drove the Smith family to bankruptcy, sent my father to prison, and caused my brother’s death in a car crash. My mother, who had always loved me dearly, went mad overnight, hating me to the core: “It’s all your fault! If you hadn’t picked a fight with Sebastian, how could the Smith family end up like this!” “Why don’t you just die!” That night, Sebastian pinned me beneath him, fiercely kissing the corner of my mouth: “Chloe, whatever tricks you have left, bring them on.” My heart finally turned to ash. The bottle of sleeping pills under my pillow pressed painfully against me. No more fighting. This time, I decided to listen to my mother. …I’m going to die. 01 Tears fell onto the pillow, but Sebastian didn’t notice at all. He roughly unbuttoned my pajama top: “Chloe, you’ve fought with me for five years, it’s about time you learned to be obedient.” Obedient… My gaze flickered. If it were before, I would have pushed him away like a maniac, slapped him twice, and told him I would never let him have peace in this lifetime. But now, I was exactly as he said, Docile. Lying on the bed like a dead fish, letting him do whatever he wanted. Seeing that I didn’t react for a long time, Sebastian uncharacteristically stopped his movements. He frowned, a flash of surprise in his eyes. “Since when did you become so boring?” “Weren’t you quite vocal when you were in Ethan’s bed back then?” He grabbed my face, forcing me to look at him, but his hand met a large patch of wetness. Sebastian’s fingers paused: “What are you crying for?” The smell of Mia’s perfume on him made me nauseous. I fixed my gaze on him, From his disheveled clothes to his bobbing Adam’s apple, to the corners of his mouth that had just pressed against mine, and finally, his eyes. Our eyes met, touching for a brief second before separating. I opened my mouth: “If you want to vent your lust, hurry up.” “I want to sleep.” Sebastian’s hand on my face suddenly tightened, and the teasing look in his eyes darkened instantly. “What did you say?” He was angry… But my throat felt tight. What was he angry about? Wasn’t I being docile, exactly as he wanted? Sebastian stared at me deeply for a long time. In the passing seconds of my silence, the pressure of his hand lessened. Finally, he sneered: “Chloe, you really have endless tricks up your sleeve. You’ve even learned how to play hard to get.” He stood up and began adjusting his clothes. The shape of a square box bulged from his pants pocket. Sebastian’s fingers paused slightly, then he threw it in front of me, looking down from a commanding height: “For the sake of you being my wife in name, after bankrupting your family, I should at least compensate you with something.” “Chloe, as long as you behave, the position of Mrs. Vance is still yours.” The moment the gift box was tossed down, its sharp corner hit my shoulder. It hurt a little. But I still didn’t move, didn’t even glance at it. Sebastian stared at me for a while, then scoffed coldly: “The state of the Smith family today is your own doing, so you just have to take it. Stop wearing that dead face.” “As for the gift, take it or leave it.” He picked up his suit jacket, turned, and left. Only a long time later did I pull that bottle of sleeping pills from under my pillow, staring at it blankly. When should I take them? Tomorrow night… Tomorrow is my mother’s birthday. I’ll go see her one last time. 02 The next day, carrying a cake, I went to the psychiatric hospital. Seeing my mother, I tried my best to force a smile. “Mom, I came to see you.” My mother’s back, lying on the bed, stiffened, but she ignored me. Fighting back the sourness in my heart, I opened the cake box: “Mom, I came to celebrate your birthday today. The cake is strawberry flavored, your favorite from before.” “Get up and eat a little.” I spent four hours making it, even one bite is fine, Mom; This is the last time, Mom… But before I could finish, I felt a heavy weight on the back of my head. The next second, my entire face was shoved into the cake. “Get out!” My mother desperately pushed me outward. “Go die! Go be buried with Leo!” The cream was smeared all over my face, sticky and greasy, making it difficult to even breathe. I opened my mouth, wanting to say something. “Mom…” I stumbled, pushed by her against the doorframe. My mother screamed hysterically: “So what if Sebastian is having an affair with Mia? Why couldn’t you just pretend you didn’t know anything? Chloe, why did you have to throw a temper tantrum at him?” “How could I give birth to such an ungrateful thing like you!” “Chloe, go die! Hurry up and die!” Tears finally fell uncontrollably, my hands trembling slightly. In the past, she loved me the most. She used to say… no matter what I wanted to do, the Smith family would always be my rock. But now, she hated me to the point of madness, hated me enough to tell me to die. Have I really been completely wrong all these years… I lowered my head, looking away, and after a long time, finally spoke: “Okay.” I’ll listen to you, I’ll go die. Perhaps the aura of death in my eyes was too heavy, because she actually fell silent for a moment. The next second, with a bang, she locked me out. I stood frozen outside the door for a long time before I found the strength in my body again. Then, step by step, I shuffled to the restroom to wash the cream off my face. As the cold water hit my face, I slowly gathered my thoughts. I stared at my face in the mirror, speechless for a long time. Perhaps choosing to marry Sebastian back then was a mistake. Now, it was time for this mistake to end. Let it end tonight. By the time I left the psychiatric hospital, it had started to rain. I didn’t bring an umbrella and was too tired to call a cab. Walking alone in a daze for who knows how long, soaked to the bone and shivering slightly, a figure suddenly appeared in front of me. The rain instantly stopped. I looked up and saw Sebastian holding an umbrella, staring at me with an unfathomable expression. Through the window, I could also see Mia and a few of his close friends, including Ethan. 03 Sebastian pulled me into their private room at the bar. “What’s this? The eldest daughter of the Smith family is bankrupt and can’t even afford an umbrella?” Ethan looked at me with a half-smile. “How about you sleep with me again, and I’ll give you one?” Roars of laughter erupted around the room. Someone elbowed Ethan and teased: “Enough already. Just how wild was Chloe back then that you’re still obsessing over her after five years?” “Sebastian, bro, since you don’t care anyway, why don’t you let Chloe keep us company? It’s not like we won’t pay.” The explicit, grating comments came one after another. Sebastian sat in the booth, silent. After a long while, the corner of his mouth twitched: “Do whatever you want.” As soon as he said this, boos filled the room. The smile on Mia’s face grew even more smug and arrogant, though she feigned a glare at them: “Stop it, you guys. What’s so great about bullying a little girl?” She leaned close to Sebastian. “Speaking of which, you’re practically my daughter-in-law. You’ve been married to Sebastian for five years, and I haven’t even given you a meeting gift.” Hearing this, Sebastian’s face changed instantly. There was even a hint of jealousy in his eyes as he looked at Mia. In the past, being in this situation, I definitely would have thrown a massive tantrum like a lunatic. But now, I had long lost the fiery passion of love and hate. I just wanted all of this to end quickly. I turned to leave, but was grabbed by the wrist by Mia, who had stood up. “Since we met today, let me give you the Vance family’s heirloom jade bracelet.” Saying that, she slipped the jade bracelet off her wrist and pulled my hand, intending to put it on me. The next second, the jade bracelet crashed to the floor! Mia stumbled a few steps, missed a step, and fell into Sebastian’s arms, tears coming right on cue: “Chloe, I’m your mother-in-law in name at least. Even if you don’t like me, you shouldn’t have pushed me, and you even broke the Vance family’s heirloom…” Her voice choked up: “Sebastian, I sprained my ankle.” This trick again. Over the past five years, I don’t know how many times Mia had framed me like this. Her acting was clumsy, her excuses flimsy. But Sebastian believed every single one. Unsurprisingly, this time was no different. Sebastian grabbed my wrist with a terrible expression, “Chloe, have my methods not been enough, that even now you show no remorse?” “Apologize to Mia.” I lowered my eyes, my gaze falling on the hand grabbing me. “Okay.” I looked up and asked him: “How do you want me to apologize?” “Kneel? Kowtow? Or serve those guys…” I used to have sky-high pride, but now I felt that these humiliations were nothing compared to death. I continued speaking, looking at the buddies in Sebastian’s booth. “If I’m supposed to serve them, please make it quick. I want to go home before dark.” “Chloe!” Sebastian violently flung my hand away. The atmosphere instantly fell dead silent. A long time later, someone finally spoke: “Damn, she really is something else.” The voice wasn’t loud, but it was crystal clear in the quiet room. “Enough.” Sebastian shot the person a dark look, “Watch your mouth.” He stared at me for a long time, until Mia tugged at his sleeve, her voice carrying a hint of crying: “Sebastian, my ankle hurts so much.” Only then did Sebastian snap back to reality. He picked her up and walked out. “I’ll take you to the hospital first.” Before leaving, for the first time, he turned back to look at me after turning around, his eyes clouded. Not long after, a message arrived on my phone. Sebastian: [Wait for me at home tonight. About today… I’ll listen to your explanation.] I twitched the corner of my mouth. Sebastian, you want me to explain, but tonight… I’m destined not to wait for you. 04 Once Sebastian left, the others sensibly cleared out. Only I remained in the room. I stared at that message for a moment, then silently deleted it along with Sebastian’s contact information. Then I went home alone to organize my belongings. One by one… When I dug to the very bottom of a box, my hand suddenly paused. It was a thick stack of old, un-sent love letters. Written to Sebastian when I was young. Although Sebastian and I had an arranged marriage, no one knew that I had secretly liked him for many years. Even during a long period of our messy married life, I hadn’t let him go. But now, looking at the bold, unrestrained line in the love letter: [Sebastian, just wait until I make you mine], it felt like a lifetime ago. Just pieces of scrap paper. With a wooden face, I was about to throw them all into the trash can, but they were suddenly snatched away by a strong force. Ethan looked at the stack of love letters, his eyes full of meaning. I couldn’t be bothered to ask when he had entered the house. I just expressionlessly held out my hand: “Give them back.” His gaze swept over the love letters, a sneer on his lips: “Want them?” “Chloe, so the reason you’ve been raising hell with Sebastian all these years was harboring such filthy thoughts. But don’t worry… in Sebastian’s heart, you’re probably worse than a dog.” Those words sounded familiar. I suddenly remembered the year we first got married, during a fight, his icy glare: “Chloe, all this fuss you make, isn’t it just to get me to look at you more?” “But do you deserve it? In my heart, you’re nothing but a dog wagging its tail for scraps…” I was silent for a moment, and when I spoke again, my voice was as calm as a pool of dead water. “What exactly do you want?” Ethan reeked of alcohol, his smile vile. “Chloe… sleep with me one more time.” As he spoke, he turned on his phone’s video recording: “Facing this, let’s do it again.” Ethan forcefully pinned me down on the bed, speaking frivolously: “Actually, all these years I’ve always regretted it. You screamed so enthusiastically back then, why didn’t I record it?” I lay numbly, offering no resistance, but my hand gripped the bottle of sleeping pills under my pillow tightly. … Returning to the villa, Sebastian frowned as he looked at the chat box where I hadn’t replied. There wasn’t even the usual curse. [Chloe, I’m home.] [I told you the position of Mrs. Vance is still yours. Don’t throw another princess tantrum next time.] But the only response he got was a red exclamation mark indicating he had been deleted. “Chloe!” The next second, the bloodstains at the door pierced his eyes unexpectedly. Sebastian’s pupils shrank violently, and he kicked the door open— 05 All he saw was glaring red. “Chloe!” The me in front of him violently vomited a mouthful of blood, while Ethan desperately shook my shoulders. “Chloe, are you fucking crazy?” “Spit it out!” But I vomited another mouthful of blood, Straight onto the bottle of Amitriptyline nearby. Seeing this scene, Sebastian felt a rush of hot blood surge straight to his head. “What are you doing?!” He violently yanked Ethan away, his mind going blank for a moment as he looked at me, half-dead. “Ethan!” “What did you do to her?!” His voice could no longer suppress his fury. And in my stomach, there was an agonizing, earth-shattering pain. For the first time, I learned that taking sleeping pills didn’t just mean going to sleep and dying. Palpitations, chest tightness, suffocation, pain… a myriad of agonizing sensations enveloped my entire body. I suddenly felt a twinge of regret. …If I had known, I would have chosen another way to die. Although Ethan’s drunkenness had completely dissipated, he was also somewhat bewildered, not understanding how things had turned out this way. Just now, as he pinned me down, the phone beside us pointing at me. “Chloe, weren’t you quite fierce before? Why are you as boring as a dead fish now?” My gaze finally moved, and I spoke when he was about to take off my clothes. “There are condoms in the closet. Go get them. I don’t want to get pregnant.” Ethan froze for a moment, unable to hold back a scoff. “Chloe, at a time like this, what are you still pretending for?” He stared at my face, and seeing no reaction, he replied irritably: “Fine.” “Truth is, you don’t deserve it anyway.” He let go of me and stood up. The restraint on my body released, and in that instant, I unhesitatingly poured all the sleeping pills into my mouth. Then, I fell to the floor, vomiting a lot of blood. “She took them herself…” Before he could finish, Sebastian punched Ethan in the face. “Get out!” Pain shot through him, and Ethan’s body staggered. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse: “Sebastian, the most pressing matter now is to get Chloe to the hospital.” Sebastian seemed to finally react. He fumbled with his phone a few times, then picked me up and rushed outside. I was already drifting in and out of consciousness, and being jostled by him made my head even groggier. I threw up another mouthful of blood, right onto his suit. “Chloe…” Sebastian’s pupils contracted slightly, calling my name in a low voice. “Chloe, don’t sleep.” He called out to me over and over again. So noisy. I only felt my eyelids getting heavier. Sebastian’s voice took on a gritted-teeth quality: “Chloe, if you dare to die, I’ll make sure your father spends the rest of his life in prison, never getting out.” “And your mother…” That was the last sentence I heard. My heart seized. I moved my mouth, wanting to say something, but was powerless to utter a single word. Finally, my hand dropped uncontrollably. The world was finally peaceful.

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Late at night, I was scrolling through my feed when I saw the news of Arthur’s wedding. With trembling hands, I posted a status update. “Why can’t people who love each other be together? Woo woo woo, I just want to die.” After posting, I blocked Arthur and all his friends. But I forgot to block my family. Soon, my phone was buzzing like crazy. I opened the comments, and my family’s replies completely broke me. 1 At 11 PM, I was lying in bed scrolling through my feed, my thumb swiping up mechanically. And then I saw that photo. Arthur Sterling and Emily Chen’s wedding photo. They were both wearing white dress shirts, standing in front of the city hall, smiling so radiantly. Emily had her head resting on Arthur’s shoulder, and Arthur had his arm around her waist, holding their marriage certificate. The caption read: “Finally waited for you, the rest of my life is all you.” My finger froze in mid-air, my whole body seemingly hitting the pause button. A sharp pain shot through my heart, hurting so much I couldn’t breathe. I opened my mouth wide to gasp for air, tears falling without warning. We had only been broken up for six months. Six months, and he had already gotten his marriage license with someone else. Back then, he said he needed to focus on his career, that he didn’t have the means to get married, that we should wait a little longer. I waited for five years. For five years, I lived frugally, helping him take care of his sick parents and paying for his younger brother’s college tuition. For five years, I stayed by his side as he went from an intern to a department manager. For five years, I never bought a decent piece of clothing or went to a nice restaurant. He said that when he was capable, he would definitely give me the best wedding. And the result? He gave it to someone else. I stared at that photo for a long time, so long my eyes ached. Then I opened the status update box, my fingers trembling as I typed: “Why can’t people who love each other be together? Woo woo woo, I just want to die.” Before hitting send, I specifically blocked Arthur and all his friends. And Emily Chen. I didn’t want them to see me in this pathetic state. 2 Less than a minute after posting, my phone started buzzing uncontrollably. I clicked it open; it was replies from my family. My Dad: “Why don’t you go drive their wedding car? You know that route better than anyone.” My Mom: “Go make their bed, isn’t that the bed you loved sleeping in the most?” My Aunt (Dad’s sister): “Why don’t you go toast the guests? Don’t his relatives and friends like you the best?” My Aunt (Mom’s sister): “Go be a bridesmaid, you know the answers to all the questions the bride won’t know.” My other Aunt: “Why don’t you go hand out the wedding favors? Weren’t you the sweetest thing in front of him?” My eldest Aunt: “Why don’t you go help him hold the baby? Didn’t you want to have his kids?” My Uncle: “Go cook the banquet food, didn’t you love cooking for him the most?” Looking at these replies, my tears completely broke loose. Every word they said was like a needle piercing my heart. Yes, I knew that route best. When Arthur first started in sales, I accompanied him every day, running through every street and alley of this city. He said I was better than GPS. That bed, I did love sleeping in it the most. The first apartment Arthur rented had a mattress hard as a rock, but I still loved curling up on it because it was our little home. His relatives and friends really did like me. Every gathering, his aunt would always hold my hand and say, “Chloe, when are you and Arthur getting married? Auntie is waiting to drink at your wedding.” I knew everything about him. He loved spicy food but couldn’t handle it too spicy; he hated cilantro; his birthday was March 7th; his dad had high blood pressure and needed to take medication every day. I really was sweet in front of him. Sweet without a bottom line, so sweet I believed anything he said. I did want to have his kids. I had even thought of the names: Leo for a boy, and Mia for a girl. I cooked for him. Three meals a day, for five years straight. He had a weak stomach, so I got up early every day to make him millet porridge. But in the end? In the end, he married someone else. In the end, he held someone else’s hand and walked into city hall. In the end, he told someone else, “The rest of my life is all you.” I held my phone, trembling all over from crying. Tears blurred the screen, and the replies kept popping up one by one. My Aunt (Uncle’s wife): “Chloe, come home, Auntie will make you chicken soup.” My Cousin (older brother): “Sis, I’m taking tomorrow off to take you to a steakhouse, the most expensive one.” My Cousin (older sister): “Silly girl, a guy like that isn’t worth it. I’ll introduce you to someone way better.” Looking at these messages, I cried even harder. They all felt sorry for me. They knew how I had spent the last five years. They knew how stupid I had been. 3 My phone rang again; it was my Mom calling. I wiped my tears and answered it. “Mom.” “Chloe,” My Mom’s voice was very soft. “We saw your post. Don’t take it to heart, we were just so angry we said some harsh things.” “I know,” I said, choking back tears. “Know what?” My Dad roared from the other end of the line: “That guy is a piece of garbage. What did I say back then? I said all he cares about is money and climbing the ladder. You didn’t believe me, do you believe me now?” “Dad, please stop yelling.” “I will yell.” My Dad’s voice got louder: “My daughter suffered such a huge injustice, and I can’t even yell? That bastard Arthur, I was truly blind to ever agree to let you two be together.” “Alright, alright, don’t yell at the kid.” My Mom grabbed the phone back: “Chloe, come home. Come stay at home for a few days.” “Mom, I have to go to work tomorrow.” “What work! Call in sick.” My Dad snatched the phone again: “Come home, Dad will support you. We don’t have to take this crap.” Listening to them argue on the other end, my heart felt sour but warm. Sour because my last five years really were like a joke. Warm because no matter how silly, stupid, or disappointing I was, my family would always be on my side. “Dad, Mom, I’m fine.” I sniffled: “I’m really fine, just… just a little sad.” “If you’re sad, come home. Mom will make your favorite sweet and sour ribs.” “Yeah! Come home!” My Dad shouted: “Dad will take you out for a fancy meal, we’ll celebrate. Celebrate you escaping that sea of bitterness.” I laughed, laughing until I cried again. After hanging up, I looked at Arthur’s post one more time. In the photo, Emily Chen was smiling so sweetly. I couldn’t clearly see Arthur’s expression, but I knew he must be very happy now. After all, Emily Chen could give him what I couldn’t. Emily Chen could save him twenty years of hard work. While I could only endure hardships with him. I put down my phone and pulled the covers over my head. That night, I cried until dawn. 4 Arthur and I got together in our junior year of college. He was a prominent figure in our department: handsome, had good grades, and was the student council president. I was a girl as ordinary as could be: average grades, and my looks weren’t particularly stunning. I don’t even know what he saw in me. He said I was grounded, that I was kind, that being with me felt comfortable. I believed him. The year we graduated, something happened in his family. His dad was diagnosed with liver cancer, his mom was hospitalized with high blood pressure, and his younger brother was still in high school. His family’s savings were wiped out instantly, and they were deeply in debt. My parents were dead set against us being together. My Dad said: “Chloe, if you stay with him, you’ll suffer.” My Mom said: “Honey, Mom isn’t being a snob, I just can’t bear to see you suffer.” I didn’t listen. I thought love could conquer all. I got into a massive fight with my family, dragged my suitcase, and moved into the basement apartment Arthur rented. That basement was only about a hundred square feet, with no windows, requiring the lights to be on even during the day. In the summer, it was hot as an oven; in the winter, it was cold as an icebox. But I was very happy. Because Arthur said: “Chloe, when I make money, I’ll definitely buy you a big house.” I believed him. To save money, I only ate two meals a day. To make more money, I worked three jobs simultaneously. I worked at my company during the day, worked part-time at a convenience store at night, and tutored on weekends. Arthur worked hard too, working late into the night every day. We were like two spinning tops, constantly spinning. But every night, squeezed onto that tiny bed, he would hold me and say: “Chloe, thank you. When things get better, I’ll definitely treat you doubly well.” Then I felt everything was worth it. The first year, his dad’s condition stabilized, but the medical bills were several thousand dollars a month. The second year, his younger brother got into college, and we paid for his tuition and living expenses. The third year, he finally got promoted to manager, and his salary doubled. I thought the bitter days were finally over. But at the end of the fourth year, he met Emily Chen. 5 Emily Chen was his boss’s daughter. She had just returned from studying abroad and was parachuted into his department as a director. The first time I heard Arthur mention her was during a late night at work. He surprisingly called me on his own initiative, his tone laced with excitement: “Chloe, Director Chen took our department out to dinner today, we went to a Michelin-starred restaurant.” Me: “Really? That’s great.” Him: “Director Chen is so nice, completely unpretentious, and she said she wants to focus on developing me.” Me: “Then you should work hard.” After hanging up, I felt a little uncomfortable. But I didn’t dare say anything. I was afraid he would call me paranoid. Later, Emily Chen appeared more and more frequently. Arthur’s phone started having messages from her. Arthur’s clothes started smelling like her perfume. The hours Arthur worked overtime got longer and longer. I asked once: “You’re getting pretty close to Director Chen.” He said: “She’s the boss, I have to suck up to her a little. Chloe, you have to understand me. Isn’t my working so hard all for our future?” I believed him again. At the beginning of the fifth year, Arthur celebrated my birthday. He bought a small cake, stuck candles in it, and told me to make a wish. My wish was: “I hope we get married soon.” He was silent for a long time, then said: “Chloe, wait a little longer. Wait until I’m a bit more stable.” Me: “Okay.” That night, he got a call. It was from Emily Chen. He said there was an emergency at the company and he had to go back to work. I ate that cake all by myself. In March of our fifth year, Arthur suddenly moved out of our rented apartment. Him: “Chloe, I got promoted. The company gave me an apartment.” Me: “What about me?” Him: “You stay here for now. Once I’m settled, I’ll come get you.” I believed him again. The day he moved out, I helped him pack his bags. He looked at me, his eyes a little red: “Chloe, I’m sorry for making you wait so long.” Me: “It’s okay, I’ll wait for you.” He hugged me, turned around, and left. 6 I only found out later that the apartment was Emily Chen’s. Emily Chen let him move in. After Arthur moved out, we saw each other less and less. He always said he was busy, rushing a project, accompanying a client. When I called him, he often didn’t pick up. When I messaged him, he took a long time to reply. I panicked. I went to his company to find him. The receptionist wouldn’t let me in. I said I was looking for Arthur Sterling. “Manager Sterling is in a meeting. Do you have an appointment?” I said no. “Then you can’t go up.” I waited in the lobby all afternoon. At 6 PM, Arthur came out. Not alone, but with Emily Chen. Emily Chen was holding his arm, and the two were laughing and talking. Seeing me, Arthur’s expression changed. He pulled his arm away and walked over quickly: “Chloe, why are you here?” I looked at Emily Chen, and she was looking at me too, with a provocative look in her eyes. “I came to find you.” “I’m busy.” Arthur lowered his voice: “You go back first. I’ll come find you tonight.” “Can’t we talk now?” “It’s not convenient.” Emily Chen walked over, looked me up and down, then said to Arthur: “Arthur, who is this?” Arthur looked a bit embarrassed: “This is my friend, Chloe Miller.” Friend. Five years of relationship, exchanged for the word “friend.” I laughed: “Arthur, I’m your friend?” “Chloe…” Arthur frowned: “Don’t make a scene.” “I’m making a scene?” I looked at Emily Chen: “Director Chen, right? Do you know who I am?” Emily Chen smiled gracefully: “I know, Arthur’s ex-girlfriend. He said you guys broke up a long time ago.” I looked at Arthur: “We broke up?” Arthur didn’t dare look me in the eye. Emily Chen continued: “Ms. Miller, since you’re broken up, stop harassing him. Arthur is my boyfriend now. You’re causing him trouble by doing this.” Boyfriend. That word was like a knife stabbing into my heart. I looked at Arthur: “Is what she saying true?” Arthur remained silent. Silence is consent. “Arthur, say something,” I yelled. People in the lobby were staring at us. Arthur’s face turned red. He grabbed my hand: “Chloe, let’s go outside to talk.” “We’ll talk right here!” I shook him off: “Tell me clearly, did we break up? Did I agree?” “Can you stop making a scene!” Arthur also raised his voice: “This is my company. If you have no shame, I still do.” I have no shame. He said I have no shame. Looking at him, I suddenly felt he was very unfamiliar. Was this still the person who said he would treat me well for the rest of my life? Or the one who called me kind and grounded? Emily Chen tugged at Arthur’s arm: “Arthur, stop arguing with her. Let’s go, we still have dinner with Mr. Zhang tonight.” Arthur glanced at me, his eyes filled with complex emotions. Then he said: “Chloe, you go back first. I’ll call you tonight.” With that, he turned and walked away. Emily Chen followed behind him, looking back at me with a smirk on her lips. I stood rooted to the spot, watching their figures disappear through the lobby doors. A chill ran through my entire body.

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Over winter break, an “@ everyone” tag from my desk mate’s father suddenly popped up in the class group chat. He said his daughter had gone out to hang out with me and was now unreachable, demanding I reply immediately. He also threatened that if anything happened to his daughter, he wouldn’t let me off the hook. A chill ran down my spine. She hadn’t come to see me at all. I had been home studying all day, hadn’t even stepped out the door. I typed an explanation, saying she wasn’t with me. The group fell dead silent. He didn’t reply again. I thought the matter was over. Until midnight, when he pried open my front door and barged in holding a knife. Our family of four—none of us escaped. Right before I died, he choked me and roared, blaming me for inviting his daughter out, claiming it was my fault she got tricked into running away with some delinquent. As I took my last breath, all I remembered were his bloodshot eyes. I opened my eyes, and my phone buzzed again. That same “@ everyone” tag in the group chat, identical word for word… 1 “This is Lily Evans’s parent, tagging everyone in the group. Lily has run away from home several times, and this time she’s been gone for two days. Whichever parent is harboring her, bear the consequences. She said she’s at Chloe Miller’s house.” My phone buzzed. Staring at this message, a cold sweat instantly broke out on my back. Lily Evans. Her father. That middle-aged man who barged into my house with a knife and murdered my entire family of four. That animal who choked me and, right before I died, gritted his teeth and said, “It’s all your fault for inviting her out.” I instinctively touched my own neck. No pain. No wound. Breathing smoothly. But I remembered that suffocating feeling, remembered his bloodshot eyes, remembered the sound of my mom falling onto the living room floor, remembered my dad’s back as he was hacked down trying to protect Leo, remembered my little brother Leo was only nine and didn’t even have time to cry out loud— I remembered. I remembered it all. “Sneaking out in the middle of the night all made up, dressed like a prostitute, and secretly taking a cab. Whoever lent her money, whoever invited her out, bear the consequences!” He sent another message. The group was dead silent. No one dared to speak. Last time, when I saw these two messages, I panicked and typed an explanation, saying Lily never came to see me, that I had been home studying all day and hadn’t even stepped out. He didn’t reply again. I thought the matter was over. Then, at midnight, he pried open my front door. I slowly put my phone down. It is now 5:23 PM. There are about seven hours until he pries the door open. Last time, I spent these seven hours in panic and feeling wronged. When my parents got home from work, I even complained to them about it, saying Lily’s dad was so mean. My mom even comforted me, saying it was normal for a parent to be anxious when their daughter was missing. Our family of four, none of us knew death was approaching. This time. I looked at that profile picture, that WeChat account saved as “Lily Evans’s Dad.” Mr. Evans. Do you know what the first thing I want to do after being reborn is? I don’t want to run. I don’t want to call the police—last time, during the final ten minutes when he was breaking in, I dialed 911. The line was busy. By the time it connected, he had already kicked the door open. I want you to know what it means to bear the consequences. 5:25 PM. I replied in the group. “Hello Mr. Evans, I just saw the messages. Lily didn’t come to see me today, and I didn’t invite her out. We haven’t really talked much at school lately. You could ask her other friends.” Pausing for two seconds, I typed another sentence: “But please don’t worry, she might have gone to another classmate’s house. I’ll help you ask around to see if anyone has seen her.” People started popping up in the group. “Lily ran away from home again? Oh my god, is she okay?” “Don’t worry Mr. Evans, we’ll help look for her.” “Chloe, were you home all afternoon? Didn’t go out?” That last message was from my desk mate, Mia. I didn’t reply to her. Because I saw Lily’s dad’s reply. “You didn’t invite her? She said you invited her out! You’d better tell the truth, or else when I find out, don’t blame me for not holding back!” 2 Heh. Here it comes. Last time, I was also terrified by this sentence, explaining desperately, my tone getting softer and my posture getting lower. But did it help? No. What he was looking for was never the truth; it was a scapegoat. Who was Lily Evans? The “problem girl” of our class. Dyed hair, makeup, skipping classes, dating some delinquent from outside the school. How many times had her dad beaten her? I don’t know. I only know that once she came to school with a handprint on her face, claiming she fell. This wasn’t her first time running away from home. But this time was different. This time, she eloped with that delinquent. She didn’t dare tell her dad the truth, so she casually threw out a line: “I went to Chloe Miller’s house.” Just that one sentence. Her dad believed it. Or rather, he pretended to believe it. Because he needed a target. He needed someone to bear the anger of his failed parenting. He needed someone to let him vent his impotent rage of “my daughter’s trouble is all someone else’s fault.” And me—good grades, well-behaved, never causing trouble, casually framed by his daughter—I was perfect. Last time, he killed me. This time, I’m going to let him know what it feels like to kick an iron plate. 5:32 PM. I sent a screenshot to the group. It was my WeChat chat history with Lily Evans. Our last chat was two weeks ago. She asked me what the weekend homework was, I replied, and she didn’t say anything else. Scrolling further up, it was borrowing notes, asking about exam times, borrowing a charger. Not a single personal chat, not a single invitation to hang out. “Mr. Evans, this is my chat history with Lily, please take a look. We really aren’t close.” People in the group started speaking up for me. “It’s true, Lily and Chloe aren’t in the same circle.” “Yeah, Chloe studies all day, she wouldn’t hang out with Lily.” “Sir, did you perhaps misunderstand?” Lily’s dad didn’t reply. But I knew he saw it. Because five minutes later, he sent a third message: “Chat histories can be deleted. Who knows if you deleted them beforehand? My daughter personally said she’s at your house, would she lie?” I smiled. Yes, she would lie. And you know better than anyone that she would lie. But you refuse to admit it. 5:40 PM. I sent a message to Lily. “Lily, where are you? Your dad is looking for you in the group, saying you’re at my house. Don’t scare me, what happened?” After sending it, I put my phone aside and started scrolling through my contacts. I remembered last time, Lily and that delinquent eloped to a neighboring city, stayed in a motel for a week, and only came back after they ran out of money. When she came back, my whole family had already been cremated. This time, I need to make her come back sooner. Not to save her. But to make her say with her own mouth: I didn’t go to Chloe Miller’s house. 6:00 PM exactly. My mom got home from work. “Chloe, what’s going on in the group chat? Why is Lily’s dad posting all that?” she asked while taking off her shoes. “You didn’t get into any trouble, did you?” “No,” I said. “Mom, don’t get nervous when I tell you this, but we need to stay somewhere else tonight.” My mom froze for a moment. “Why?” I looked at her. Not even forty, she already had white hair at her temples. Last time, she fell on the living room floor, still clutching the new pencil case she had just bought for me. “Because Lily’s dad might come looking for trouble,” I said. “He’s not a reasonable person.” My mom laughed: “It wouldn’t go that far, right? Just for this? He’s anxious because his daughter is missing, don’t take it to heart. Once they find her, it’ll be fine.” “Mom.” I looked at her, emphasizing every word. “Do you trust me?” “Of course I trust you.” “Then listen to me tonight. We’re going to stay at Grandma’s house for the night.” My mom hesitated, then nodded. “Alright, let’s talk about it when your dad gets back.” 3 6:30 PM. My dad came back with Leo. As soon as he walked in, Leo complained he was hungry. My mom went into the kitchen to cook. My dad sat on the sofa looking at his phone. After a while, he frowned. “Chloe, what’s the deal with Lily’s dad? Why is he talking so aggressively?” “That’s just the kind of person he is,” I said. “Dad, let’s go stay at Grandma’s house tonight.” “Why?” I explained the whole situation. After my dad listened, he stayed silent for a while, then said, “Alright, we’ll leave after dinner.” I was a bit surprised. My dad had always been the “better to avoid trouble” type. I thought he was going to tell me not to overthink it. “Dad, you don’t think I’m making a mountain out of a molehill?” “No.” My dad put his phone down and looked at me. “I saw what he said in the group. That kind of person doesn’t seem like he’ll just let things go.” He paused, then added, “We don’t cause trouble, but we aren’t afraid of it either. We’ll hide out for a night, and once he finds his daughter, it’ll blow over.” I didn’t say anything. Because I knew he wouldn’t find her. At least, not tonight. 7:20 PM. Our family of four finished dinner, packed our things, and prepared to leave. Just then, a loud banging sounded on the door. Not knocking. Banging. Like someone smashing it with their fists. “Chloe Miller! Come out! I know my daughter is in your house!” It was Lily’s dad’s voice. My mom jumped, instinctively taking a step back. My dad’s expression changed, and he pushed my mom and Leo back. “Don’t open the door,” he said in a low voice. The banging got louder. “Open the door! I’m calling the police! This is false imprisonment!” Leo was so scared he buried his face in my chest. Holding him, I felt my heart beating so fast it was about to jump out of my throat. Last time, he didn’t come this early. Last time, he came at midnight, with a knife. This time, he came just past seven. He didn’t bring a knife. At least, not right now. But he still came. “Dad,” I whispered. “Call the police.” My dad nodded and picked up his phone. The smashing outside continued. “Chloe Miller! Don’t think you’re safe hiding in there! If anything happens to my daughter, I’ll make your whole family pay with your lives!” A neighbor opened their door. “What are you doing? It’s late, what’s all the noise about?” “None of your damn business! Someone hid my daughter, I’m looking for my daughter!” My dad dialed 911. “Hello, someone is causing trouble at my door…” Before he could finish, a kick landed on the door. The doorframe shuddered. My mom screamed. Leo started crying. I held him tight, staring at that door. Last time, when this door was kicked open, I stood in the middle of the living room, trembling all over, unable to even speak. This time, I was waiting for the police. Bang! Another kick. The doorframe cracked. Bang! A third kick. The door opened. Not kicked open. Opened by my dad. He pulled the door open. A man stood outside. In his forties, short and stout, his face flushed red, his eyes glaring like he wanted to eat someone. Exactly the same as those eyes I saw right before I died last time. “Mr. Evans.” My dad stood in the doorway, blocking the path. “Why are you kicking my door?” “Your daughter hid my daughter!” He tried to push his way in. “Let me go in and search!” “Search for what?” My dad didn’t budge. “My daughter said your daughter hasn’t been here. Call the police, let them search.” “Call the police? Why would I call the police? My daughter is right here in your house!” He charged forward, but my dad blocked him. The two of them started shoving each other. “Get out of the way!” “Calm down!” The hallway was crowded with nosy neighbors. Some were taking videos, some were on the phone, some were shouting “Stop fighting, stop fighting!” 4 Amidst the chaos, I saw someone push their way through. It was our homeroom teacher, Ms. Lee. “What are you doing?!” She pulled Lily’s dad away. “Mr. Evans! What are you doing!” Lily’s dad was yanked away, still struggling: “I’m looking for my daughter! My daughter is in her house!” “Who said that?” “My daughter said it herself! She said she’s at Chloe Miller’s house!” Ms. Lee looked at me. I stood in the doorway, holding Leo, tears welling up in my eyes. “Ms. Lee,” my voice trembled. “Lily never came to my house. I don’t know her well. Her dad cursed at me in the group chat, I posted all our chat history, but he didn’t believe me, and now he’s here kicking our door.” “You’re lying!” “Enough!” Ms. Lee roared. “Mr. Evans, your daughter ran away from home, I understand you’re anxious. But what right do you have to come make a scene at someone else’s house? Kicking their door? Do you know this is illegal!” “What law did I break? I’m looking for my daughter…” “Looking for your daughter gives you the right to kick doors? To frame people?” Ms. Lee pulled out her phone. “Wait here, I’m calling Lily.” Lily’s dad sneered: “I already called. Her phone is off.” Ms. Lee ignored him and dialed the number. The call connected. “Hello, Lily? Where are you?” Everyone fell silent. Lily’s dad was stunned. Ms. Lee put it on speakerphone. From the other end came Lily’s voice, carrying a hint of impatience: “Ms. Lee, what is it?” “Where are you?” “I… I’m at a classmate’s house.” “Which classmate?” Silence. “Tell me.” “…Chloe Miller’s house.” My brain buzzed. She was still lying. In front of all these people, she was still lying. Lily’s dad instantly blew up: “Hear that?! Hear that?! My daughter said she’s at her house!” He pushed Ms. Lee aside and charged towards me. My dad grabbed him tightly. “Calm down! Even if she says she’s at Chloe’s house, have her send her location!” “Send what location! I believe my daughter!” “You believe your daughter? Then come and search!” I spoke up. Everyone looked at me. I put Leo down, let my mom hold him, and then walked to the doorway. “You come in and search.” I looked at Lily’s dad. “What if you don’t find her?” He froze for a second. “If you don’t find her, you replace our front door with a new one. You apologize to me. You clarify in the group chat that your daughter lied, and that I am innocent.” “Why should I—” “Why should you?” I cut him off. “Because you kicked my door. Because you slandered me in the group. Because you brought all these people here to make a spectacle of me.” I stared into his eyes. “Do you dare?” The hallway was dead silent. The neighbors were all watching. Someone was recording. Lily’s dad’s face turned beet red. “Get out of the way, I’ll search!” “First say what happens if you don’t find her.” “I…” Ms. Lee spoke up: “Mr. Evans, if you have nothing to hide, agree to her terms. If you don’t find her, replace the door and apologize. If you do find her, we’ll help you call the police and have them arrested.” Lily’s dad gritted his teeth, forcing a sentence through the gaps: “Fine.” I stepped aside. He charged into my house, searching every room like a mad dog. Kitchen, bathroom, balcony, closets, under the beds. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

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My husband’s childhood friend has a contradictory personality. When chatting with friends about private topics, I blushed and mentioned that my husband has two moles on his inner thigh. She immediately jumped out to contradict me, personally pulling down his pants to prove there was only one. I angrily questioned her with red eyes, but Arthur Sterling just sneered mockingly: “Mia’s contradiction was right, otherwise I wouldn’t have known you don’t understand me at all.” For the sake of our young son, I chose to endure it. Until my son got food poisoning. I frantically tried to call 911. But Mia immediately started contradicting me again: “No, no, no, I think he should stay home and be observed for a while. It doesn’t look like poisoning.” Hearing this, Arthur furiously froze all my bank accounts. “Using the child to vie for attention, what kind of mother are you?” Watching my son foaming at the mouth in my arms, I finally compromised with Mrs. Sterling and dialed her number: “Send an ambulance right now, and from now on, I am no longer a daughter-in-law of the Sterling family.” … Mrs. Sterling didn’t even ask for a reason. She agreed immediately and sent over $500,000 as “divorce compensation.” Because ever since Mia formed the habit of contradicting me, I had long become the most unreliable person in the Sterling family. I joked that the meat inspection stamps wash off after a few washes. Mia actually stamped me with three red seals while I was sleeping to prove they wouldn’t wash off. I had a low libido after giving birth. She spread rumors everywhere that I was hooking up with three male college students in hotels, Photoshopped pictures, and uploaded them to the family group chat. I lost all face and truly couldn’t bear it anymore. To demand an explanation, I smashed our marital home to pieces. But Arthur looked at me like I was a clown, mocking me coldly: “Mia’s contradictions are well-founded. This only shows that you are flying into a rage out of humiliation!” I was left speechless but continued to endure for the sake of our child. Until I was cooking for my son and mentioned that raw green beans are toxic. To contradict me, Mia secretly fed them to him. Arthur praised her for being smart, unable to see our son’s purpling face or hear his weak breathing. This time, I gave up explaining, because I was truly tired. The ambulance arrived quickly. But before he could even be taken into the operating room, the doctor looked regretful: “He was brought in too late. The child has stopped breathing. My condolences.” Instantly, wails spilled from the corners of my mouth. Holding my son’s cold hand, my heart also chilled completely, inch by inch. The entire hospital corridor echoed with my mournful cries. Only after receiving our son’s death certificate did Arthur unfreeze my bank accounts like bestowing charity: “When you’re done making a scene, go buy the kid a few decent outfits. The day after tomorrow is Mom’s 60th birthday, don’t always…” I interrupted him hysterically: “Your son is already dead! He’s dead!” There was a pause on the other end of the line, immediately followed by Mia’s contradiction: “I don’t think so. The experts on TV said eating the wrong thing causes diarrhea at most. The little master isn’t that delicate, right? Sister Chloe should really surf the internet before lying…” With her single instigating remark, Arthur’s even more furious voice pierced my ears: “Always using our son to vie for attention, aren’t you afraid of bringing bad luck? Watch out, or I’ll give our son to Mia to raise!” With that, he hung up the phone with a snap. Clutching the certificate tightly, a dense pain spread across my chest once again. I attended my son’s cremation ceremony alone, bidding him farewell through the thick glass. Holding the light urn, I no longer had any attachments to the Sterling family. After signing the divorce agreement sent by Mrs. Sterling, I called that familiar yet strange man: “You promised you’d always save a place for me. Does that still count?” I disappeared for three days, handling my son’s funeral alone. The whole world knew he was dead, except for his father. Because the last time I was followed by a creep, I could only post on Moments to try and get more people to save me. As a result, Mia quickly posted a Moment contradicting me: “Impossible. It’s obviously just a little romantic game a spoiled wife plays to seduce her husband.” After seeing it, Arthur was very angry. He ignored me completely and completely blocked my Moments, nearly causing me to be assaulted by the creep. Now, I held no expectations whatsoever, only wanting to accompany my son one last time. Three days later, I returned home in a daze. As soon as I pushed the door open, Arthur uncharacteristically looked up at me and then handed over his phone. “How about this matching parent-child necklace?” My eyes suddenly lit up. This was the one I had circled in a magazine, but later forgot to buy because I was too busy. I didn’t expect him to care so much about me and our son. My heart was just feeling a bit moved. Unexpectedly, the next second, Mia stepped out looking pretty in my pink lace nightgown, throwing a throw pillow at the man. “Brother Arthur, you big meanie, don’t you dare try to take advantage of me!” “Trying to get me to call you ‘Daddy’ just by giving me a necklace? I won’t fall for your trick!” Arthur’s eyes were full of her playfulness, his face full of indulgence, “You little rascal, I just thought this necklace matches your nightgown.” I stood frozen to the side, seemingly like a clown intruding on their harmonious picture. I used to be at an age where I liked pink too. But Arthur always poured cold water on it: “You don’t look good in pink. Don’t wear it anymore.” So I pressed that beloved nightgown to the bottom of the wardrobe, never to see the light of day again. Now, worn on Mia, it seemed more fitting. Forcing down the pain surging in my chest, I made to turn and go upstairs, but saw a puppy walk by wagging its tail. Previously, my son had cried and fussed for three days, wanting to keep a puppy at home. I strongly supported his compassion. But it was met with Arthur’s cold words: “No. I’m allergic to dog hair. You should also consider my feelings.” Because of this, my son was depressed for several days. It turned out he wasn’t allergic to dogs; he was allergic to me and my son. Mia suddenly appeared behind me, smiling and blinking at me: “Brother Arthur and I adopted it together. He insisted I bring it over to show him. Sister doesn’t mind, right?” My heart ached heavily. I was just about to ignore her and leave. Unexpectedly, the next second, Mia suddenly grabbed the dog’s tail and tumbled down the stairs. “Ah! My puppy!” With a sprained ankle, she held the crushed puppy and cried uncontrollably: “If Sister Chloe can’t stand me, she can hit me or scold me. But the puppy is innocent…” Arthur pushed me away without a second thought. His first reaction was to check on the dog. My ankle bone struck the steps, instantly feeling as if it had shattered. The man, as if blind, roared at me hysterically: “Chloe Jones, you won’t even spare a dog? Get down here right now and apologize to Mia!” Looking at Mia’s clumsy acting, I really didn’t want to play along with them anymore. I turned around without showing any emotion. “From now on, absolutely no dogs are allowed in the house. Let’s see what you do when our son blames you!” “If you were even half as sensible as Mia, our son wouldn’t be educated by you to be so impolite, not even returning my calls!” A loud crash of something smashing came from behind. Amidst his furious roars, I didn’t stop limping upstairs. Looking at Arthur—who was allergic to dogs—personally burying it in the garden downstairs, my heart still ached fiercely. More so, I felt it was unworthy for my son, who cried for his father when he left. He couldn’t even use his life to get his father to take one more look at him. Returning to my room, I sorted my son’s belongings piece by piece and packed my luggage to leave. Just then, Arthur suddenly pushed the door open and walked in. “What are you doing packing our son’s things?” The man’s gaze fell on those toys, his nerves unconsciously tensing. “Because he…” I hesitated for a moment, then continued, “The teacher wants him to board at school for a while.” The truth on my lips was ultimately swallowed down. I didn’t want to use my son’s life to gain his sympathy. Nor did I need anyone’s pity. Besides, he wouldn’t believe it. Hearing this, Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s fine too. We have to take Mia to the old estate tomorrow. We wouldn’t fit with an extra person.” My tongue felt numb. I couldn’t say a single word. Arthur’s sports car could seat two people, but Mia could always permanently occupy one seat. My son and I could only choose one or the other. It turned out his heart never had a designated place for us, mother and son. The next day, when Arthur took me to the old estate, Mrs. Sterling looked terrible. “Didn’t you say you were leaving immediately? Why are you here being an eyesore again?” Arthur froze upon hearing this, frowning in confusion: “Where is Chloe going—” Right then, a loud bang came from not far away. I saw a pile of misshapen fireworks being ignited. Mia held a lighter and looked over with a smile. “Happy 60th Birthday, Mrs. Sterling!” The old lady was coaxed into laughing heartily, and I was completely left aside. But the next second, the familiar box by Mia’s feet fiercely pierced my eyes. That was my son’s urn, which I had buried in the cemetery! My voice instantly tore out: “Mia Lin! What are you holding in your hand! Is it my son’s ashes?!” I simply couldn’t believe it. I rushed over, snatched the firework from her hand, and choked her neck fiercely. Scalding sparks fell on my arm, instantly raising several blisters. “Ah! Sister Chloe, what’s wrong with you? I just wanted to celebrate the old lady’s birthday. Brother Arthur, hurry and save me!” In a panic, Arthur picked up the box on the ground and smashed it against my forehead. My eyes were instantly blinded by blood. “Chloe Jones, what crazy fit are you throwing? Who gave you the audacity to hit Mia in front of Mom!” The old lady clutched her heart in anger: “Mia specially prepared a firework show for my 60th birthday. What right does an outsider like you have to blame her!” I couldn’t hear their accusations. I picked up the remaining ashes from the ground bit by bit. “Someone come! Serve her with the whip!” the old lady ordered angrily. I looked up in shock. I saw bodyguards gripping whips, advancing towards me step by step. I looked at the cold man in front of me in disbelief. “Arthur Sterling, I am your wife!” I struggled desperately, but those men pinned me to the ground one after another. Arthur’s heartless voice drifted over lightly: “Since you are a daughter-in-law of the Sterling family, you must abide by the family rules. You are no exception!” The next second, the whip in the bodyguard’s hand slashed over fiercely. “Ah!” My piercing wail echoed throughout the courtyard. But Arthur shielded Mia behind him, raising his hand to cover her eyes: “Close your eyes, don’t be frightened.” The whip struck my body, each hit heavier than the last. Splattering blood foam fell before my eyes. My entire back felt the piercing pain of burning fire. Seeing me paralyzed on the ground like a broken rag doll, Arthur couldn’t help but frown. Until the bodyguard stopped and asked: “Mr. Sterling, that’s enough for 100 lashes. Should I continue?” “Enough! Send her to the hospital immediately.” Before my broken body was lifted, Arthur draped his coat over my mangled back. However, it was precisely this action that added a bit of hatred to the originally smug Mia’s eyes. Sneaking home from the hospital, I endured the pain and grabbed my luggage. Two beeps sounded outside the door; I knew he had come to pick me up and leave! I was limping outwards when suddenly a massive force kicked me viciously back into the room. Struggling to open my eyes, I found it was actually Mia. “Chloe Jones, you were served by the family rules until you look like a monster, and you still have the mood to go on a trip?” “Oh right, how come you aren’t taking your precious son with you on your trip?” Seeing my blood-red eyes, the woman became more and more smug as she spoke: “Oh I forgot, he, is, already, dead!” As she finished, I couldn’t bear it anymore. I rushed up and grabbed her hair, my eyes burning red: “You shut up! Aren’t you afraid of retribution for intentionally killing my son?!” The woman wasn’t angry but laughed. Following close behind, several servants came in and poured gasoline into every corner of the room. “I just wanted to intentionally get rid of you mother and son. This way, Brother Arthur can fulfill his childhood promise and marry me into the family.” “But you won’t have the chance to complain, because I’m going to send you down to reunite with your son right now!” As soon as her words fell, she instantly flicked a lighter and set the room on fire. The tongues of fire quickly swept over. The already stinging wounds sizzled as they were burned. When Arthur rushed over upon hearing the news, I grabbed onto him like a lifeline, desperately calling for help. “Arthur, I’m here, save me…” But I didn’t expect Mia to escape first, lock the door, and block him. “Help me, Brother Arthur!” “Sister Chloe had people set a fire to burn me to death in the house. She already escaped a long time ago. Save me quickly, boohoohoo…” Immediately after, I only heard the man’s curses from outside the door: “How did she become so vicious? Burning her to death wouldn’t be too much!” With that, he picked up Mia and left swiftly. The flaming wardrobe crashed heavily onto my back, and my last shred of hope shattered with it. When Arthur returned, he scoured the entire villa but couldn’t find a trace of me. His heart sank. He quickly called the kindergarten: “Have you seen my wife? Did she pick up our child?” “The little boy hasn’t come to class for several days,” the teacher answered, puzzled. Arthur was just about to ask further when, the next moment, a death certificate suddenly appeared on his phone… Arthur magnified the death certificate infinitely. Written starkly on it was his son’s name. “This… how is this possible? It must be a prank!” He suddenly thought of Chloe publicly setting a fire to burn Mia to death, and suspicion arose. Maybe this was another one of Chloe’s tricks to vie for attention. But he still felt uneasy and sent the certificate to his assistant. “Check this for me immediately. Is it a forgery or not?” Then, he angrily called Chloe. Just as a reprimand was about to leave his mouth, he realized he was met with a robotic female voice. 【The number you have dialed is temporarily unavailable. Please try again later…】 He called his child again, but the result was the same. “What on earth are those two, mother and son, plotting? This is absolutely outrageous!” Putting away his phone, he intended to leave the mother and son hanging for a few days and properly compensate the burned Mia. Hearing the news, Mrs. Sterling rushed to the hospital, gnashing her teeth in anger. “I said Chloe was unreliable. I didn’t expect her to do such a heinous thing. I will absolutely not forgive her!” Lying in bed, Mia looked the picture of innocence: “It’s okay. Sister Chloe must have just been acting on impulse. I won’t blame her.” “You’re just too kind.” Arthur comforted her distractedly. Right then, he discovered a divorce agreement in the old lady’s bag. “Mom, what is this?” The old lady looked a bit uncomfortable, trying to word how to explain it to him. At this moment, the doctor rushed into the room. “Mr. Sterling, I’m sorry. The ashes Ms. Chloe Jones entrusted us to keep are missing. I can’t reach her on the phone. How do you want to handle this?” Arthur frowned deeply, extremely puzzled: “What ashes? What exactly is going on?” The doctor was bewildered and explained in more detail: “The young master was brought to the hospital a few days ago and passed away from food poisoning. Did Mr. Sterling not know this?” Hearing this, Arthur nearly slumped to the floor. It took him a long time to find his voice. “What… what did you say? My son passed away?” It turned out Chloe had never lied from beginning to end. A few days ago, when Chloe cried and tearfully complained “our son is dead,” it was also true. Arthur stood up indignantly and grabbed the doctor’s collar: “Why didn’t you call to inform me in time? And how could his ashes go missing?” Mrs. Sterling beside them was also completely dumbfounded, painfully clutching her heart: “Chloe, that useless woman. She can’t even look after a child. What else can she do?!” The old lady almost cried until she fainted. The doctor quickly explained: “The child passed away due to food poisoning. He consumed a large amount of raw green beans. But Ms. Jones already called to inform you at the time. She sounded completely devastated.” “Please accept my condolences.” With that, the doctor turned and left.

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In our fifteenth year of marriage, my husband, a Major General, cheated on me. I had planned to endure it, but the young girl couldn’t wait and came straight to our door. “Mrs. Hayes, we are truly in love. Please, let us be together.” Looking at Mia’s teary eyes, my heart turned to ash. It turned out the vows of our youth had long since expired. That night, I slept beside Arthur as usual. “Mia came to see me.” “Mm.” No explanation, not even a trace of emotion. “Arthur, you cheated!” I couldn’t help but raise my voice. “Chloe, we are completely innocent. Nothing happened between us. Could you stop making blind guesses like a bitter housewife?!” Innocent? If you were so innocent, would Mia have come to the door demanding a title? Things were at a standstill for a while. Until I came home early from a business trip. The moment I opened the door, I saw Mia wearing my pajamas, nestled in Arthur’s arms. Seeing me enter, Arthur tightened his arm around the girl, his eyes full of warning. I looked at him calmly. “Arthur, let’s get a divorce.” … Arthur refused, claiming he “hadn’t violated any fundamental disciplinary rules.” He mobilized every force he could to persuade me. My parents-in-law, whom I had taken care of for nearly twenty years, said to me: “Arthur knows his limits; things definitely haven’t gone that far. Just bear with it. Once this blows over, we’ll have him transfer the title of that new apartment downtown to your name.” An old army buddy of ours advised me: “What could that young girl from the entertainment troupe possibly be after? Isn’t it just Arthur’s current status? Given his rank, his benefits will only get better. Letting go now, aren’t you being foolish?” My best friend, whose own husband, a regular non-commissioned officer often away from home, also had a lover at the base, sighed: “Let it go, Chloe. As long as he wears that uniform and is away all year, these things are inevitable. At least Arthur is a commander. He commands respect outside, and he provides a solid life at home. If you divorce, do you think you can find someone better?” You see, it was as if that military uniform and the stars on his shoulders had become some sort of immunity, capable of canceling out all the betrayal and ugliness in a marriage. I remained silent, beginning to organize the bank statements and property deeds from all these years. My dad rushed over when he heard the news. As soon as he walked in, without a word, he slapped me across the face. He was trembling with anger: “What successful man isn’t busy? So what if he has a few female comrades who admire him around? He’s provided you with a life of luxury for over a decade; he’s done right by you! You insist on making a scene, making everyone a laughingstock? Look at your age. If you divorce, who would want you?” He looked ruddy and healthy. It seemed his new wife was taking good care of him, and his new son was smart too, so naturally, he had no time to consider the feelings of his daughter from a previous marriage. The last person to come and pressure me was my son, who was currently in a military academy prep program. He came back for the weekend. I instinctively reached out to take his backpack. He dodged to the side, staring straight at me: “Mom, why do you insist on divorcing Dad?” My heart, which had remained steadfast before all outsiders, violently contracted. “Your dad… he has another woman. Mom can’t live with him anymore.” “You mean Mia? Dad said she’s just a regular comrade. She admires him, so they’re a bit close, that’s all.” My son looked at me impatiently, his expression identical to Arthur’s. “Mom, you’ve lived a life of leisure for half your life. If you leave Dad, can you really make it? If you end up struggling, I won’t be able to look after you every day.” To be honest, before he came back, I still held onto a sliver of hope. I thought, this child I raised single-handedly would at least give me a hug. He would angrily confront his dad, he would stand on my side, and he would share my disdain for the betrayal. I never expected that the moment he returned, he would yell at me like that, then slam the door to his room. Bang! That loud noise left my ears ringing, and my legs felt weak. Chloe, how did you… end up living like this? That night, while I was showering, Arthur walked into the bathroom for the first time in ages. I couldn’t even remember how long it had been since we were last intimate. When he walked in, the look in his eyes was still devoid of warmth. But his movements didn’t stop. With a business-like familiarity, his hands roamed over my body. “Stop making a fuss, okay?” “I’ll have her transferred tomorrow. We won’t see each other again.” My body gradually heated up under his touch, but my heart felt like it was freezing over. I closed my eyes, letting my tears mix with the hot water. “Arthur.” “Mm?” “Have you slept together?” “…” The silence was the answer. A surge of anger shot straight to my head. “You… you really disgust me.” Arthur’s movements stopped. Then, in a fit of anger, he shoved me away. Chapter 2 My ankle hit the cold tiles, sending a piercing pain up my leg. Before I could react, he grabbed my chin roughly and dragged me to the mirror. “I disgust you? Look at yourself!” “Look at this haircut, what does it even look like? And this,” he crudely grabbed my chest, “it lost its shape ages ago! And look at your face, you’ve got age spots!” “Chloe, do you look anything like you used to?” His eyes were as cold as ice, his fingers gripping me hard enough to cause pain. “If we just live like this, I guarantee you a lifetime of stability. If we divorce, don’t you dare regret it.” Long after Arthur slammed the door and left, I was still shivering naked in the bathroom. I couldn’t believe this man, who had weathered twenty years of storms with me, could say such cruel things. Or perhaps, he had changed long ago, and I was just blinded by the title of “military wife”? I clenched my fists tightly, my nails digging into my palms. The sharp pain cleared my muddled brain bit by bit. Arthur, do you think I have no choice but to rely on you? Are you certain I wouldn’t dare do anything to you? Just you wait. I am definitely getting this divorce. When I went downstairs early the next morning, Arthur was uncharacteristically in the kitchen. My son, Leo, was already sitting at the dining table. Seeing me, he immediately lowered his head, making it clear he didn’t want to talk. Arthur, however, played the peacemaker, saying gently to our son: “Didn’t we agree last night to be understanding of your mother?” Only then did Leo reluctantly call out: “Mom.” “Son, training is hard. Come eat, I fried your favorite eggs.” Arthur looked at me, a clear smugness hidden in his eyes. I didn’t speak, just sat down silently. Not long after, the doorbell rang. The young orderly brought Mia in. “Good morning, Mrs. Hayes! Comrade Mia is here to deliver the performance approval documents to the commander.” In front of everyone, their fingers briefly brushed against each other. Leo showed no reaction, even greeting her: “Mia, have you had breakfast? Want to join us?” Mia acted coy, but then sat right down in the seat I usually took. As if deliberately trying to anger me, Leo pushed the glass of milk I had just poured for myself over to Mia. And got her a clean plate. Mia also went all out to please Leo: “Leo is so handsome and well-behaved! I thought you’d be like…” she glanced at me, “…that you wouldn’t like me.” “My mom might be in a bad mood recently, a bit suspicious. Don’t mind her, Mia.” Over breakfast, the two actually chatted quite amicably. I stopped listening after Leo said I was “suspicious.” I put down my chopsticks, picked up my coat, and walked straight out the door. I was going to find someone, an old classmate I hadn’t contacted in over a decade. My first love, now a top-tier lawyer even recognized by the military courts—Liam. Chapter 3 In a cafe outside the military base, I told Liam about wanting a divorce. He took a sip of his coffee, lifting his eyes to look at me: “Willing to give up your perks as the ‘Commander’s Wife’?” After all these years, his temper was still as stubborn and harsh as ever. If it hadn’t been for his personality back then, I wouldn’t have… Too lazy to banter with him, I pulled a card out of my bag and slid it over. “I’ve asked around. Your consulting fees are quite high now. Here is the retainer; I’ll pay the balance when it’s done. This is a strictly professional relationship, no personal feelings involved.” Liam picked up the card, inspected it, flicked it with his finger, and slipped it into his breast pocket. “Deal, employer comrade.” On the way back, he offered to drop me off. Compared to my so-called “happy family,” he seemed much more solitary these years. I heard his wife passed away from illness years ago, leaving no children. So he threw all his energy into his cases, becoming known in the system as the “Cold-Faced Judge.” Liam drove a modified, rugged off-road vehicle with high clearance and a deep, powerful engine roar. I couldn’t help but frown: “In your forties and still driving this kind of car?” He raised an eyebrow: “Wasn’t this your favorite back then? You said I looked best driving a Jeep, forgotten?” I choked for a moment. In my early twenties, I was indeed fascinated by things exuding power. But after so many years… “Getting older, can’t handle it anymore,” I brushed it off. Liam didn’t reply, but the corners of his mouth seemed to twitch upward. After getting out, I transferred him two hundred dollars on WeChat. Liam sent a question mark. I replied: [Gas money.] Liam: [Received, employer comrade.] Though sharp-tongued, Liam was undeniably professional. He gave me a detailed checklist, teaching me how to gather evidence without alerting the enemy. Following his guidance, I managed to trace the transactions of Arthur’s main accounts and, through some old connections, found a reliable private investigator who snapped photos of his “secret love nest.” It turned out to be an old apartment registered under my name. We lived there during our dating years and early marriage. Later, as he rose through the ranks quickly, we moved into the current commander’s quarters, and that apartment had been empty, occasionally used for storage. I hadn’t been there in years. Arthur actually set Mia up there? I dug out the dust-covered key and opened the apartment door. The layout hadn’t changed, but there were many new signs of life. It was obvious that Mia truly wanted to be the lady of this house. From the kitchen wafted the aroma of stewing soup, a small clay pot sitting on the stove. If that soup wasn’t the exact recipe I had tried countless times to perfect in order to soothe his sensitive stomach. Then I might have “praised” them: What a deeply affectionate couple. But I had only ever given that recipe to my mother-in-law. What this meant was self-evident. The continuous backstabbing made me go cold all over, even making me wonder if I was such a failure that everyone close to me chose to easily hurt me? While my emotions were churning, the sound of a key turning in the lock suddenly came from the door. Mia’s cheerful voice entered first: “I’m so exhausted—” Immediately following was the sound of her throwing herself into someone’s arms. “Arthur! It’s wonderful! I’m pregnant! We finally have a daughter!” Arthur’s voice carried a doting tone I hadn’t heard in ages: “Careful, don’t be so clumsy.” He looked up and saw me standing in the middle of the living room. Chapter 4 For the first time, I saw an expression called “panic” on Arthur’s face. He probably never dreamed he would run into me here. At this moment, however, I was exceptionally calm. I took out my phone and tapped record. Reacting, he immediately stepped forward to grab it. I took a step back, my voice steady but carrying undeniable force: “Arthur, think carefully. I’ve installed hidden cameras in this apartment. If the footage gets out, what happens to your reputation, and the military’s prestige?” Arthur’s breathing grew heavy. He had been in a high position for a long time, accustomed to controlling everything. My “loss of control” irritated him, and even more so, made him feel his authority was being challenged. “Chloe, stop messing around! Go home right now!” “I want a divorce.” “I told you, impossible!” “Then there’s nothing to talk about. We go do the paperwork tomorrow, otherwise, I can’t guarantee where these materials will end up.” “What are you making a scene for!” The veins on his temples throbbed. “Have you thought about the impact? About my parents? About Leo’s future!” When he mentioned our son, I finally completely broke down. I grabbed the ceramic vase off the coffee table and smashed it fiercely onto the floor! “Shut up! Don’t bring them up! You don’t have the right—!” I rushed forward and slapped him with all my might. “You bastard! Did you think about them when you cheated? Did you think about them when you had a child with someone else? Now that I’ve cornered you here, you’re telling me to think about them?! Arthur, your fucking selfishness needs to have a limit!” With that, I turned and left, slamming the door heavily behind me. I went straight to Liam’s law firm. “You look awful. Did you lay your cards on the table?” “Yeah. That woman… is pregnant.” “What are your plans now?” I forced a smile, but couldn’t quite manage it: “What other plans could there be? Having reached this point, the way back has long been cut off.” Liam was silent for a moment, then pushed the tissue box on the desk towards me. This subtle gesture strangely eased my frayed nerves. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” He shrugged: “It’s fine. The employer is always right.” … Liam analyzed that the current situation was very favorable to me. The videos and photos in my possession, combined with the fact that Arthur had formed a de facto marital relationship with another woman outside of our marriage and conceived a child (even if unborn), would be a massive bargaining chip in a military divorce lawsuit and property division. Listening to him, my mind felt numb. There was none of the anticipated satisfaction, only deep exhaustion and emptiness. When I left the firm, he offered to drive me, but I declined. I needed to walk alone. Chapter 5 I walked for a long time along the secluded, tree-lined road on the outskirts of the military base. From our youth until now, we had far too many memories. My in-laws were traditional, hoping for a house full of children and grandchildren. They had hinted and explicitly urged us to have a second child countless times, but Arthur always deflected it. He said my health suffered when I gave birth to Leo, and he couldn’t bear for me to suffer again. I was carefully protected behind him like this, content to be his “home front,” forgetting that the person holding me up would also get tired arms, and a changing heart. Actually, Mia wasn’t the first blurry figure to appear beside him, but she was the first he tacitly allowed, even indulged, to parade right in front of me. He was testing me, testing the limits of my tolerance for this marriage. Perhaps, deep down, he had even harbored the ridiculous fantasy of “having his cake and eating it too.” When I got home, my in-laws were both there. Mia was surrounded by them, a shy yet sweet smile on her face. Arthur sat to the side. He looked up and saw me. The red mark on his face hadn’t completely faded. When he saw no wavering in my expression, the last sliver of luck in his eyes also vanished. We had been together for fifteen years; some things didn’t need to be spoken. His face darkened as he said to Mia: “You head back first.” The laughter filling the room abruptly ceased. Mia was stunned: “W-why? Your parents are still here…” “I said go, so go.” Arthur’s tone was an unquestionable command. In this house, his will was the highest directive. My in-laws exchanged glances but didn’t dare speak. My mother-in-law shot me a disgruntled glare. Arthur called a driver, and Mia left, looking back repeatedly, looking terribly wronged. Leo got anxious and yelled at me: “Mom! What are you doing now! Mia came to see me! She’s my friend!” For the first time, I didn’t try to smooth things over. I looked at him with a cold smile: “Being friends with your dad’s ‘girlfriend’?” “I told you it’s a misunderstanding! They just have normal interactions!” “Mia is pregnant with your dad’s child.” Leo looked as if someone had hit the pause button. He snapped his head to look at Arthur: “Dad… really?”

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The day I tore up my acceptance letter to a top university, my mom cried on the bed, and my brother cried outside the door. Ten years later, my brother returned from studying abroad with a gilded resume, a $500,000 annual salary, and a wealthy, beautiful girlfriend. I was still hunched over a sewing machine in a garment factory, my hands covered in needle pricks. Our old house was demolished, yielding a compensation of $6.23 million. My mom held my hand: “It’s all yours, Chloe. Mom is so sorry for what she put you through.” I fell to my knees: “Mom, give it to Noah. He needs money to get married.” My mom slapped me and cried, “Mom isn’t senile!” My brother’s girlfriend pointed her finger at my nose: “What does a factory worker need all that money for? Let it collect dust in the bank?” My brother remained silent the entire time, his eyes darting away. My mom pulled a metal tin from under the bed, inside was a stack of yellowing papers: “This is your three years of high school tutoring fees. Your sister paid for it.” “This is your four years of college living expenses. Your sister transferred it.” “This is your first year’s tuition for studying abroad. Your sister borrowed it.” “Noah Davis, your sister put you through school for ten years, not so you could pay her back.” “It’s so you remember that your glamorous life was bought with your sister’s torn-up acceptance letter.” “Now, please get out.” My mom stood in front of me like a mother wolf protecting her pup. 1. That year, I was eighteen. Clutching my acceptance letter to Parsons School of Design, I stood in the hospital corridor. The doctor said my dad couldn’t be saved. My mom fainted from crying in the hospital room. My brother, Noah, was fifteen, curled up on a bench like an abandoned puppy. Relatives came in waves, leaving behind sighs and thin envelopes of cash. I heard them say: “Looks like Chloe won’t be going to college after all.” … Three days later, we buried my dad. My mom lay in bed, unable to get up, saying she was overwhelmed with grief. We later found out her chronic kidney disease had worsened. Noah cried so hard he couldn’t stand; I supported him the whole time. My aunt held my hand: “The garment factory is hiring. Room and board included, two thousand a month. If you want to go, I’ll introduce you.” I turned to look at Noah standing in the doorway. “Sis…” he called out, his voice impossibly hoarse. I went over and hugged him. He leaned on my shoulder, his tears soaking through my shirt. That night. I sat in front of my dad’s memorial photo and tore my acceptance letter to pieces. The red fragments fell into the brazier, quickly curling, blackening, and turning to ash. My mom was crying in the inner room, her sobs heavily suppressed. The next day, I went to the employment agency and filled out a form. The staff asked what I could do. I said I could use a sewing machine. “Garment factory hiring, room and board included, two thousand a month, overtime extra. You in?” “I’m in.” And just like that, I became a worker at the Eastside Garment Factory. I was eighteen that year, employee number 247. 2. Ten years. It’s a light word, taking only a second to say. But for me, it was torment. The first three years were the hardest. My mom got sick, her chronic kidney disease turning into renal failure. She had to do dialysis twice a week, and every time, she looked like she had died and come back. Noah was in high school. Tuition, tutoring fees, living expenses—it was a bottomless pit. My dad’s settlement money was like a pebble thrown into a river; a small splash, and then it was gone. During the day, I pedaled the sewing machine in the workshop. At night, I bussed tables at a night market food stall. I’d get home in the early hours of the morning, massage my mom’s swollen legs, and check Noah’s homework. In the fourth year, Noah got into college—a top university in San Francisco. Tuition was eight thousand a year, housing twelve hundred. I stayed up all night doing the math. In the end, I borrowed from coworkers and relatives, scrapping together enough for his first year’s tuition. The day I sent Noah to the train station. He hugged me and wouldn’t let go. “Sis, when I graduate, I’ll definitely make sure you have a good life.” I patted his back: “Just study hard, don’t think about these things.” The train pulled away. I stood on the platform, my eyes stinging. In the seventh year, Noah said he wanted to do an exchange year abroad. I asked over the phone: “How much?” Noah’s voice was low: “Tuition and living expenses, about two hundred thousand. Sis, maybe we should just forget it.” “Go. I’ll figure out the money.” I started borrowing again. Coworkers, relatives, neighbors… Eight people pitched in fifty thousand. It wasn’t enough. Finally, I found a payday loan online. The interest rate was terrifying. My hand shook as I signed, but thinking of Noah’s future, I signed it anyway. The tenth year, which is this year, I am twenty-eight. Ten years. I went from a blushing teenage girl to “Chloe,” the fastest worker in the shop. My hands were covered in calluses, my knuckles chronically cracked, and I had lumbar muscle strain that made it impossible to stand straight on rainy days. I had never dated. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I had neither the time nor the money. The older women at the factory had set me up a few times, but nothing ever came of it after the first meeting. They thought I had too much baggage—a sick mother and a brother still in school. I don’t resent him. Really. When I saw the photos Noah sent. Seeing him looking so confident speaking at an academic conference. I felt it was worth it. Sometimes, biking through the empty streets late at night after work. I would think back to that summer when I was eighteen. Think back to that red acceptance letter. Think back to my homeroom teacher saying, “Chloe, you are the pride of our school.” If I had gone to New York back then. What would my life be like now? I don’t know. And I don’t dare to imagine. 3. The news of the demolition spread this spring. The old neighborhood we lived in was slated for redevelopment. City officials went door-to-door, registering, measuring square footage, and assessing compensation. Our two-story house was originally assigned by my dad’s workplace, and we later bought the property rights. Six hundred square feet. The day the assessment value came out. The city official came to our door personally. “Mrs. Davis, congratulations! The assessment is out, $6.23 million!” My mom was prepping vegetables, and her hand shook so much she dropped them all over the floor. “H-how much?” The official grinned from ear to ear: “$6.23 million! With your square footage and this prime location, that’s the compensation amount!” I had to hold onto the doorframe to keep from collapsing. $6.23 million. At $4,200 a month, I’d have to work 140 years without eating or drinking to save that. The official left, and the house was terrifyingly quiet. My mom sat on her small stool, staring at the vegetables on the floor, not speaking for a long time. I called out softly: “Mom?” Her eyes were red: “Chloe, I’ve decided what to do with this money.” I was bewildered: “Huh?” Every word she spoke seemed to take all her strength: “It’s all yours. I’m not keeping a cent. It’s all yours.” My legs gave out, and I almost knelt on the floor. “Mom, what are you talking about! This money has to be saved for your retirement, and for Noah?” My mom suddenly raised her voice: “Noah can earn his own money! He’s in San Francisco making tens of thousands a month! And you? You make four thousand a month and still have to pay off debts!” I was stunned. So Mom knew. She knew I had debts on the outside. I felt guilty and whispered: “Those debts… are almost paid off…” My mom stood up abruptly, swaying because she moved too fast. I quickly supported her. “So what if they are? You’re twenty-eight! You’ve never dated, you’re not married, you don’t even have a decent piece of clothing! These past ten years, how much have you sacrificed for this family, for your brother? Mom knows in her heart!” She grabbed my hand: “This money, Mom insists on giving it to you! If you don’t take it, Mom will donate it! Donate it to a charity school, no one else is getting it!” My eyes welled up with tears: “Mom!” My mom cried: “Don’t try to persuade me! Chloe, Mom is so sorry. I dragged you down for ten years. Mom was useless, making you suffer so much. Now that we finally have some money, Mom just wants to compensate you. Just let Mom compensate you this once, okay?” I broke down in tears. Mother and daughter held each other, crying like two fools. That night. I called Noah. It rang for a long time before he answered. The background was loud, like a bar. “Sis? What’s up so late?” His voice was a bit slurred, probably from drinking. “Noah, about the demolition money, the assessment is out.” “Oh, that. Mom told me, over six million, right? Sis, don’t worry, when I get the money, I’ll give you a million. That’s enough for you to buy a place in the county.” My heart sank bit by bit. “Noah, Mom’s intention is to give it all to me.” The other end of the line went silent. After a few seconds. Noah laughed: “Sis, stop joking.” “I’m not joking. Mom said it in front of the city official today.” Noah’s voice rose: “Has Mom gone senile? Give it all to you? Why?” “Mom said I suffered for ten years.” Noah got agitated: “And what about me? Did I not suffer out here? Sis, do you know how much pressure I’m under in SF? Rent is eight thousand a month, food and socializing is another four or five thousand. Mia’s family has high standards; the down payment for a marital home alone is three million. My five hundred thousand salary sounds like a lot, but after taxes, what’s left? Saving two hundred thousand a year is considered good!” I gripped my phone, a sour feeling welling up in my heart. “Noah, Mom’s health is getting worse. What about medical expenses?” Noah cut me off: “I’ll pay for the medical expenses, but the demolition money must be split evenly! This is the house Dad left behind, I have a share too!” “Mom won’t agree.” Noah practically yelled: “Then persuade her! Sis, I remember how much you sacrificed for me! When I have money in the future, I will definitely compensate you! But right now, I really need this money! Whether Mia and I can get married depends on this house!” I closed my eyes and asked: “Noah, can I really not have this money?” Noah’s voice softened, filled with pleading: “Sis! I’m begging you, okay? Talk to Mom. Split it evenly, or you take a bit more and just give me three million. Mia is pregnant; I need to give her a home!!!” I snapped my eyes open: “What? Pregnant?” “Yeah, two months. I haven’t dared to tell the family yet. Sis, I really need this money, please.” The call disconnected. I sat frozen for a long, long time. Pregnant. Noah was going to have a child. I was going to be an aunt. But why? Why couldn’t I feel happy at all? 4. Noah and Mia arrived the following afternoon. Mia wore a tailored suit and carried a bag that looked very expensive. “Auntie, Sis, we’re back.” She placed a gift box on the table. “Auntie, I brought you some bird’s nest, it’s good for your health.” My mom sat in her chair, nodded, and didn’t say a word. The atmosphere was stiff. I poured tea, and the four of us sat around the dilapidated dining table. No one spoke first. Finally, Mia broke the silence: “Auntie, I heard the house is being demolished? Congratulations, your life will finally improve.” My mom just hummed in acknowledgment. Mia said carefully: “Um, about the demolition, Noah and I discussed it, and we think it’s best to split it evenly. We’re family after all, harmony brings wealth.” My mom looked straight at Mia: “Mia, you’re a good girl, but this is Davis family business. You shouldn’t interfere.” Mia’s face changed. Noah quickly chimed in: “Mom, Mia isn’t an outsider. She’s my fiancée, and she’s carrying your grandchild!” My mom froze and looked at me. I lowered my head. My mom’s voice trembled: “Pregnant?” Noah held Mia’s hand: “Yes, two months along. So Mom, I really need this money urgently. Mia’s family requires us to buy a house in SF, and the down payment is three million. My savings plus this money is just enough.” My mom asked: “So you came back for money just to buy a house?” Noah choked on his words. “Mom, that’s not what I meant…” My mom’s voice suddenly turned fierce: “Then what do you mean? Your sister suffered for ten years to put you through school and study abroad! Now that you want to get married and buy a house, you want to take the money that belongs to her? Noah Davis, where is your conscience?!” Noah’s face turned bright red: “How do I lack a conscience? I said, when I have money in the future, I will compensate her!” “In the future? When is ‘in the future’? Your sister is twenty-eight this year! She gave the best ten years of her life to this family! What ‘future’ does she have?!” My mom started coughing violently. I quickly patted her back: “Mom, don’t get worked up…” My mom grabbed my hand, tears streaming down her old face: “How can I not get worked up? Chloe, tell them right now, do you want this money or not?” Three pairs of eyes in the room stared at me. Noah’s eyes held pleading. Mia’s eyes held scrutiny. My mom’s eyes held absolute resolve. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Noah looked at me, his eyes red: “Sis, since we were kids, you loved me the most. When I got into college, you were happier than anyone. When I left for the UK, you cried like a baby at the airport. Sis, I know you sacrificed a lot for me, and I remember it all. When I’m stable, I’ll repay you properly, but right now, I really need this money.” He was crying. My brother. The brother who used to trail behind me calling “Sis” was crying. My heart ached like it was being sliced by a knife. I knelt down, kneeling in front of my mom: “Mom, give this money to Noah, he needs it.” My mom slapped me hard across the face. It wasn’t heavy, but it was loud. I froze, and Noah and Mia froze too. My mom’s voice shook: “Chloe Davis! Stand up right now!” I remained kneeling, unmoving. My mom practically roared: “Stand up!” I slowly stood up, my cheek burning. “These past ten years, how many times have you knelt for your brother? Begging the school for an extension on tuition, begging relatives to borrow money, begging the factory for an advance on your wages.” My mom was shaking as she cried. “And now, you want to kneel for him again? Chloe Davis, are your knees really worth that little?!” I cried too: “Mom, he’s my brother… he’s having a baby… he needs money…” My mom pointed at my face: “He needs money, and you don’t? Look at yourself! Twenty-eight years old, looking like you’re thirty-eight! Your hands are covered in calluses, your back hurts so much you can’t sleep at night! Can you think of yourself for once?! Just once!” I cried so hard I couldn’t speak. Noah cried too: “Mom, Sis, stop arguing. I don’t want the money anymore, I don’t want it, okay?” Mia suddenly stood up and said coldly: “Auntie, I respect you as an elder, but your words are too harsh. Noah is your son. He wants to get married and have kids, he needs money to buy a house, is that wrong? Sister sacrificed a lot, but she did it willingly, Noah didn’t force her. Using that for moral kidnapping now, is that interesting?” The room fell dead silent. My mom looked at Mia, looked at her for a long time, and then laughed. A desolate, sarcastic laugh. My mom muttered to herself: “Willingly… yes, she was willing… willing to give up college, willing to work in a factory, willing to support her brother… all willingly…” She raised her hand and pointed at the door: “Leave. I won’t give a single cent of this money. If you want to sue, go sue. If you want to make a scene, go make a scene. I only have one thing to say: this money goes entirely to Chloe, and no one else is taking it.” Noah wanted to say something else, but Mia pulled him back. Mia kept a cold face: “Auntie, I’ll remember everything you said today. I hope you don’t regret it later.” They left. The door closed, leaving only me and my mom in the room. My mom collapsed into her chair as if all her strength had been drained. I walked over, squatted in front of her, and held her hand. Her hands were very cold and shaking. “Chloe, was Mom too cruel?” I shook my head, tears falling onto the back of her hand. She touched my face: “Mom just doesn’t want you to suffer any more grievances. Did that slap hurt?” I shook my head: “It didn’t hurt.” My mom’s tears fell: “Liar. Mom’s biggest regret in this life is you. When your dad passed, he held my hand and said, ‘Susan, our Chloe has potential, you must make sure she goes to college.’ But Mom was useless, I couldn’t afford it.” “Mom, stop talking.” “Let Mom finish. These past ten years, I dream of your dad every night. He asks me, ‘Where’s Chloe? Why isn’t Chloe in college?’ Mom can’t answer. I have no face to answer.” She sobbed uncontrollably: “Now that we finally have a chance, Mom wants to compensate you, wants you to have a better life, but you won’t even give Mom this chance.” I hugged my mom, and we cried together.

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I had just clipped the last shirt onto the drying rack when the doorbell rang. Little Zhao from property management stood at the door, pinching a complaint form in his hand. “Ms. Davis, someone reported you for unauthorized drying again.” I poked my head out to look at the balcony. Three shirts, two pairs of pants, one bedsheet. The drying rack was provided by the developer, and the balcony was enclosed. “What’s unauthorized about it?” Little Zhao scratched his head and lowered his voice: “Ms. Money on the fifth floor says the bedsheet you hung is too big. People can see it from downstairs, and it affects the aesthetic of the community.” I live on the seventh floor with an enclosed balcony. Martha Money lives on the fifth floor. What angle did she have to twist her neck to see what I was drying? “Ms. Davis, please do me a favor and take it down.” Little Zhao had a bitter expression. “She can call twelve times a day.” Twelve times. I silently took down the shirts and the pants. The bedsheet was too big; I had to fold it twice to stuff it into the basin. That night, I spread the wet clothes over the back of a chair in my bedroom and closed the window. The whole room felt damp. Martha Money didn’t know that the solar energy system on the roof of this very building she complained about— I designed it. And I paid for it out of my own pocket. 01 After Little Zhao left, I tossed the complaint form into a drawer. There were already seven forms accumulated in that drawer. The earliest one was from three months ago. The content: Seventh-floor resident placed a shoe rack in the public corridor, obstructing passage. My shoe rack is 12 inches wide. The corridor is 6 feet wide. Property management posted a rectification notice, and I moved the shoe rack inside. The second one, two months ago. Content: Seventh-floor resident keeps a pet, suspected of not having a dog license. I have a cat. Cats don’t need dog licenses. But property management still knocked on my door and asked me to show a “pet registration certificate.” I spent half a day going to the community center to get the certificate. The third one, a month and a half ago. Content: Seventh-floor resident making noise late at night, disturbing the peace. That day, I worked overtime until eleven o’clock and came home to take a shower. I used the hairdryer for eight minutes. Martha Money said I woke her up. I live on the seventh floor. She lives on the fifth floor. There are two floors between us. The complaints that followed got increasingly ridiculous. Saying I watered flowers on my balcony and the water dripped onto her windowsill. An enclosed balcony—how did the water drip down two floors? Saying my cat’s meowing was too loud. My cat is a British Shorthair, with a personality just like mine—a quiet type. Saying I leave early and come back late every day, acting suspiciously. Property management was too embarrassed to show me that last complaint. Little Zhao told me privately and told me not to take it to heart. I really didn’t take it to heart. I just didn’t understand— Why was Martha Money targeting me? Mrs. Young helped clear my confusion. Mrs. Young lives on the sixth floor, right between me and Martha Money. One day after work, I ran into her in the elevator. She pulled my arm and whispered: “Chloe, did you offend Martha Money?” I shook my head. “I haven’t even spoken five sentences to her in total.” Mrs. Young sighed. “Then there’s no reason. That’s just how she is. She bullies whoever she can catch.” Mrs. Young said that before retiring, Martha Money worked at a service window for a local neighborhood committee. She did it for over twenty years and developed a habit— She had to manage everything and control everyone. After she retired and had no one to manage, she treated the whole building as her territory. “Last year, little Liu on the fourth floor was forced out by her just three months after moving in.” Mrs. Young lowered her voice. “They just put a stroller in the hallway. She reported them every day and made passive-aggressive comments in the homeowners’ group chat, saying things like, ‘Some people have low class. If they can’t afford to live in a nice community, they shouldn’t force their way in.’” “Liu’s wife had just given birth and cried from anger. In the end, they rented out the apartment and moved away.” I didn’t say anything. Mrs. Young patted the back of my hand. “Don’t take it too seriously. She’s just like that. Everyone just humors her.” Humors her. I’ve heard these three words no less than ten times. Little Zhao said: Humor her. She’ll stop when she’s had enough. Manager Liu from property management said: Ms. Money is just overly enthusiastic. Don’t take it to heart. Even my mom said on the phone: A close neighbor is better than a distant relative. Just endure it. I looked at the seven complaint forms in my drawer and arranged them by date. Endure it. Okay. 02 The eighth complaint came sooner than I expected. Saturday morning at nine o’clock, I was cooking noodles in the kitchen. The doorbell rang. This time it wasn’t Little Zhao; it was Manager Liu in person. Martha Money stood behind him. Martha Money is in her early fifties, with permed, reddish-brown curly hair. She was wearing a purple embroidered jacket and a gold necklace. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her chin slightly raised. That posture was all too familiar. The standard stance of a complaint window clerk. “Comrade Chloe Davis,” Manager Liu cleared his throat, “Ms. Money reported that your cat defecated in the hallway, affecting public sanitation.” “My cat never leaves the apartment.” “Then where did that lump in the hallway come from?” Martha Money pulled up a photo on her phone. I took a look. It was a grayish-black lump in the stairwell corner between the sixth and seventh floors. “Is this cat poop?” I asked. “If it’s not cat poop, what is it?” Martha Money’s voice rose. “Mud.” I pointed at the photo and zoomed in. “Look, there are crushed leaves in here.” “Last week, when the roof water pipe was repaired, a worker tracked mud down.” “Little Zhao even sent a notice in the homeowners’ group chat that day.” Martha Money’s face stiffened for a second. But only for a second. “That still doesn’t prove your cat hasn’t pooped in the hallway!” She turned to Manager Liu. “Did you investigate? Did you test it?” Manager Liu stood in the middle, looking back and forth. Finally, he coughed. “Ms. Davis, how about you send the cat to a pet store for boarding? It would save us from having constant disputes.” I heard him right. She falsely accused me, and the conclusion was that I had to send my cat away. “No.” Martha Money glared: “What kind of attitude is that?” “My attitude is very good. The cat stays. If there’s nothing else, I’m going to continue cooking my noodles.” I closed the door. The noodles were already mushy. I thought she would calm down for a few days. She didn’t. Coming home from work on Monday, Mrs. Young was waiting for me at the building entrance. She didn’t look well. “Chloe, you should check the homeowners’ group chat.” I opened my phone. The group chat had exploded. Martha Money had sent a long message, over three hundred words, every word a vicious attack: “Neighbors, it’s not that I’m being nosy. Ever since that young woman on the seventh floor moved in, our building hasn’t had a day of peace. She keeps a cat without closing her windows, and its meowing disturbs everyone. She piles junk in the hallway, and her shoe rack blocks the way. She blows her hair in the middle of the night, making the whole building vibrate. As a senior resident, what’s wrong with me making a suggestion? She slammed the door right in my face. I’m a woman in my fifties being bullied by a young person. Is no one going to do anything about this?” Over three hundred words, and not a single one was true. But people in the group were already replying. “Don’t be angry, Ms. Money. Young people don’t know any better.” “Yeah, Ms. Money worries so much about our building.” “I’ve seen that girl on the seventh floor. She’s cold as ice, not easy to get along with.” I scrolled to the last message. It was from old Mr. Zhou on the third floor. “Ms. Money is right. In an old community like ours, we have to rely on enthusiastic neighbors to manage things, otherwise it’ll be chaos.” I placed my phone on my lap. There were forty-seven people in the group. Eleven had replied, uniformly taking her side. Thirty-five remained silent. Not a single person spoke up for me. Not one. Mrs. Young sighed beside me. “I wanted to say something to help you, but…” “It’s fine.” I cut her off. “Mrs. Young, it’s really fine.” She looked at me hesitantly, but eventually walked away. I stood at the building entrance and read the group messages one more time. Then I exited the homeowners’ group chat. That night, I opened my laptop and pulled up the backend of the roof solar energy system. All operating data was normal. Sixty-two monocrystalline silicon panels, with a total installed capacity of 18.6 kilowatts. The energy storage battery pack had a capacity of 50 kilowatt-hours. It was connected to the entire building’s public lighting and hot water circulation system. Every household saved three to five hundred dollars a month on electricity. This was the plan I personally designed two years ago. Material costs, installation fees, grid connection fees—it cost forty-three thousand dollars in total. The company subsidized twenty thousand, and I paid the remaining twenty-three thousand myself. Because this was an extension project for my graduation thesis. Demonstration Project of Distributed Photovoltaic Retrofit in Old Residential Communities. I needed real operational data to complete my follow-up paper. When I initially went to talk to property management, Manager Liu readily agreed the moment he heard they didn’t have to pay anything. My only condition was— Reserve an installation spot on the roof for my data collection terminal. The agreement was signed, the system was installed, and the entire building’s public electricity bill dropped by sixty percent. But from beginning to end, property management never mentioned to the residents who installed this system. The owners only knew that “the community upgraded to solar energy.” They didn’t know I provided the money, drew the blueprints, and supervised the construction. I closed my laptop. I hadn’t planned on telling anyone about this. Research is research, neighbors are neighbors. I’m not the kind of person who exchanges favors for gratitude. But tonight, looking at those comments in the group chat, I suddenly felt— I might have been too polite to this building. 03 Martha Money had tasted sweetness. The vocal support from the homeowners’ group made her even more self-righteous. Three days after I left the group, she did something. Something that completely crossed my bottom line. That day after work, I went home as usual. When I got to the seventh floor, I found a piece of paper taped to my door. A sheet of A4 paper, handwritten with a thick black marker. It had a few large words: “PLEASE BE CIVILIZED WHEN KEEPING PETS!!!” Three exclamation marks, each one pressed so hard it indented the paper. The paper was taped right in the middle of my security door with clear tape. When I peeled it off, it took a piece of paint with it. I crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it in the trash can. As I walked in, I smelled a pungent odor. I looked down. A layer of white powder was sprinkled on the doormat. I crouched down and sniffed it. Mothballs. Crushed mothball powder. Cats are allergic to camphor. Inhaling too much can cause poisoning. I rushed into the apartment. Pudding was curled up on the sofa, sleeping. He is a three-year-old British Shorthair with grayish-blue fur, a round face, and round eyes, as fat as a furball. I picked him up and checked him all over. No abnormalities. The camphor powder on the doormat was blocked outside when I closed the door; it hadn’t drifted inside. I went back out, rolled up the doormat, and threw it in the trash. Then I crouched in the hallway, using a wet rag to wipe the floor inch by inch. I wiped for twenty minutes. My knees ached from kneeling. Halfway through wiping, the elevator doors opened. Martha Money came out to take out the trash. She saw me crouching on the floor wiping, a faint smile on the corners of her mouth. “Oh, if it isn’t little Chloe from the seventh floor.” “Wiping the hallway? That’s the way. If you keep a cat, you have to be diligent.” She walked past me carrying the trash bag, her slippers stepping over the floor I had just wiped clean. Leaving two dusty footprints. I didn’t look up. I didn’t look at her. And I didn’t speak. I just wrung out the rag again and wiped away those two footprints. Martha Money came back after throwing away the trash and passed by me again. This time she stopped for two seconds, looking down at me. “Young people should do more work. It’s good for you.” “It’s better than serving a cat like it’s your ancestor all day long.” She finished speaking, walked into the elevator, and pressed the button for the fifth floor. The elevator doors closed. The hallway went quiet. I gripped the rag tightly, my nails digging into my palms. That night, I gave Pudding a physical exam. All his vitals were normal. But I still wasn’t relieved. I spent an hour online looking up the symptoms of camphor poisoning. Vomiting, convulsions, liver damage. In severe cases, death. She was genuinely trying to harm my cat. It wasn’t a report; it wasn’t a complaint. It was deliberate harm. I sat on the sofa holding Pudding. He nuzzled his head into the crook of my arm like usual. Purring loudly. I’ve had him for three years. From when he was a month old and smaller than my palm, until now. I have no friends and no relatives in this city. My parents are back in our hometown; I see them once a year. My relationships with colleagues are superficial; after work, we all go our separate ways. Every day when I return to this 650-square-foot apartment, only Pudding is at the door waiting for me. He doesn’t mind that I don’t talk much, doesn’t mind that I’m boring. If I work overtime until midnight, he just lies quietly in the entryway. Only lifting his head when he hears the key turning, slowly walking over to rub against my ankles. He is my family. Martha Money doesn’t know this. And she doesn’t care. In her eyes, I am just a young tenant who is easy to bully. I don’t argue, I don’t cause trouble, I just take it. She was wrong. I don’t just take it. I just don’t want to waste time on people who aren’t worth it. But she touched Pudding. That changes things. The next day, I did three things. First: I installed a twenty-dollar security camera at my door. The recording angle covered the entire hallway. Second: I put weather stripping around my doorframe to prevent powder from drifting in. Third: I opened my phone and ordered a new smart lock online. Fingerprint and passcode dual lock. The installation technician asked what to do with the old lock. I said throw it away. Pudding lay on the shoe cabinet, watching me change the lock. His round eyes unblinking. “Don’t be afraid.” I patted his head. “I’ll protect you.” 04 On the third day after the camera was installed, it caught Martha Money. At 6:12 AM. She walked up from the fifth floor wearing pajamas, carrying a plastic bag. She squatted at my door, took something out of the bag, and sprinkled it on my doormat. The whole process took forty-seven seconds. Captured clearly. I took screenshots and saved the original video. I didn’t make a fuss. That same afternoon, the ninth complaint form arrived. This time, the content made me laugh. “Seventh-floor resident privately installed a camera in the public corridor, invading neighbors’ privacy.” When Little Zhao handed me the form, he looked very troubled. “Ms. Davis, Ms. Money says she’s going to go to the media.” “Let her.” “Huh?” “I installed the camera because someone was placing hazardous substances at my door.” I showed Little Zhao the video on my phone. Just one glance, for two seconds. Little Zhao’s face turned pale. “This… this is too much…” “I’m not pursuing this matter for now.” I took my phone back. “But the camera stays.” “If she feels uncomfortable being filmed, she doesn’t have to come to the seventh floor.” Little Zhao’s legs were shaking when he left. A twenty-three-year-old guy, on the job for less than a year, caught in the middle and taking heat from both sides. I felt a bit sorry for him, but I couldn’t help him. I thought having video evidence would make Martha Money back off. She didn’t. She just changed her approach. On Wednesday night, in the homeowners’ group chat—yes, even though I had left the group, Mrs. Young would forward messages to me—Martha Money posted an even longer message: “Just a heads up to all neighbors, the woman on the seventh floor installed a camera in the hallway! It’s pointed at the elevator and stairwell! Whatever you’re wearing when you go out is being recorded! Those of you with elderly people or children at home, be careful. Who knows what she’s going to do with those recordings. Young people these days are very scheming.” The chat blew up. “What? Installed a camera? That’s too much!” “Who gave her permission? Isn’t property management going to do something?” “Isn’t this an invasion of privacy? We can call the police now.” “I walk past the seventh floor every day, was I recorded?” Seventeen replies, and not a single person asked why she installed it. Not a single person thought— Why would a young woman living alone spend twenty dollars to install a camera at her door? Martha Money added another message in the group: “I heard that last time property management went to talk to her, her attitude was terrible and she slammed the door right in their faces. Our community doesn’t have room for people like this!” Mrs. Young forwarded the screenshot to me and added: “Chloe, maybe you should explain in the group?” Explain what? Explain that she sprinkled mothball powder at my door to poison my cat? What if she denies it? Post the video? And then what? She’ll cry, say she’s old and confused, and ask everyone to judge whether it’s right for a young person to be so hard on a woman in her fifties. I’ve seen this script too many times. In the end, she would be the “overly enthusiastic elderly person.” And I would be the “petty young person.” No explaining. No arguing back. No posting the video. It’s not time yet. “Mrs. Young, thank you. I’m fine.” I replied with that single sentence, then placed my phone face down on the table. Pudding jumped onto the table and rubbed his head against my hand. I stroked his back. One stroke, two strokes. I was calculating a debt in my head. 05 Martha Money’s tenth report finally moved from online to offline. The neighborhood committee organized a “Civilized Building” evaluation symposium. They called it a symposium, but it was really just representatives from each building sitting together to chat. Martha Money appointed herself the “representative” of our building. No one fought her for it. I didn’t plan to go. Manager Liu called and asked me to attend. “Ms. Davis, Ms. Money has raised some concerns about you. It would be better if you came to respond in person.” “If you don’t come, it’ll just be her side of the story.” I went. In the community activity room, there were about twenty plastic chairs arranged around a long table. Director Ma sat at the head, with Manager Liu next to him. When I arrived, Martha Money was already seated, and she brought two people with her—old Mr. Zhou from the third floor and Ms. Zhao from the fourth floor. Her cheering squad. I found a seat in the corner. Director Ma gave a brief opening remark, then asked the building representatives to speak. Martha Money was the first to raise her hand. She cleared her throat and stood up. “Director Ma, I’m reflecting an issue on behalf of all the residents of Building 7.” She pulled a notebook out of her bag, its pages densely covered in writing. “The tenant on the seventh floor—” She glanced at me. “—has a lot of problems.” Then she began reading. Keeping a cat that disturbs the peace. Cluttering the hallway. Late-night noise. Installing a camera that invades privacy. Unauthorized drying on the balcony. Not participating in community activities. Not paying the public maintenance fund. That last one made me pause. I pay it every month. Auto-deduction. Never missed a payment. But I didn’t interrupt her. Martha Money finished reading, closed her notebook, and delivered her concluding remarks: “Director Ma, I’m not targeting anyone, but a resident like this seriously affects our building’s civilized environment. I suggest property management communicate with the landlord and ask her to move out.” Ask me to move out. The room was quiet for a few seconds. Old Mr. Zhou chimed in: “Ms. Money is right. Our building has always been a civilized building. We can’t let one bad apple ruin the whole bunch.” Ms. Zhao nodded: “Exactly, exactly.” Director Ma looked at me. “Chloe, do you have anything to say?” Over twenty pairs of eyes looked at me. Some curious, some sympathetic, some just watching the show. Not a single pair was on my side. I stood up. “First, I am not a tenant. I am the owner. My name is on the property deed.” “Second, my maintenance fund is set to auto-deduct every month. Here are the deduction records.” I held up my phone. Martha Money’s expression changed. “Third, regarding the camera.” I paused for a second. The whole room was waiting. “I installed the camera because someone was placing hazardous substances at my door, endangering my pet’s safety.” “I have video evidence.” Martha Money stood up abruptly. “Nonsense! What evidence do you have!” Her voice was shrill and piercing. I looked at her. “I said someone. I didn’t say who.” “Ms. Money, why are you getting so worked up?” The room went quiet again. Martha Money froze. She realized she had overreacted, her face turning a dark, liver-red color. Old Mr. Zhou quickly tried to smooth things over: “Alright, alright, young people have sharp tongues. Ms. Money, don’t lower yourself to her level.” Director Ma played the peacemaker, saying “Neighbors should be understanding of each other.” The symposium ended without any resolution. But as I walked out of the activity room, I heard what Martha Money said to Ms. Zhao behind my back. She thought I was far away. I wasn’t. I had walked two steps and stopped, standing around the corner. “Don’t worry, I’ve already spoken to Manager Liu.” Martha Money’s voice was low and confident. “When parking spaces are reallocated next month, they’re going to reassign her B12 spot to my son.” “She’s just a young girl who rides an electric scooter. Why does she need a parking spot?” Ms. Zhao laughed: “Ms. Money, you’re amazing.” “Of course.” Martha Money scoffed. “And she threatened me with a video? I’d like to see what’s stronger, her camera or my connections.” I stood around the corner, my back pressed against the wall. My fingers slowly curled into fists, then relaxed. Okay. Very well.

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