Category: English

At the wedding rehearsal, my fiancée, Aurora, suddenly retched. Her adoptive brother, Julian, frantic, swept her into his arms and rushed her to the hospital. Half an hour later, my phone rang. Her voice, chillingly calm, spoke through the receiver: “I’m pregnant.” My heart soared with a surge of unexpected hope, only to shatter as she continued, “It’s Julian’s… after his breakup, he was drenched and heartbroken, and I simply offered comfort. I never imagined it would lead to this…” “We have to keep this from Mom and Dad. Julian will stay here to help me, and we’ll tell them after the baby arrives.” “The wedding will be postponed for a year. You go explain and apologize to the guests.” My throat tightened, no words surfacing for a long moment. She pressed on, “You need to quit your job immediately. I don’t want any accidents these next few months. Julian’s career is on the rise; he can’t be distracted caring for me.” A bitter laugh escaped me. “Fine,” I heard myself say. She sounded satisfied as she hung up, unaware I had a wager with someone else: if I wasn’t married by my thirtieth birthday, I’d marry her. And today, was my thirtieth birthday. Perhaps my calm was too unsettling. Three seconds after she hung up, Aurora called again. “Ethan, I’m so sorry. I know I made a mistake first. But believe me, I only see him as my brother. The baby really was an accident.” I gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Right. Such profound sibling affection, warming each other right into bed. Truly touching.” The line was silent for a beat. She sighed, a weary sound. “I understand if you’re angry, but Julian is an orphan. The Hayes family would disown him if they knew.” “So I hope you’ll claim the child. If you quit your job and stay home, no one will suspect it’s not yours.” I tilted my head back, forcing back the burning in my eyes. “Aurora,” I said, my voice dry, “let’s not get married.” “Not get married?” She was silent for a few seconds, then roared, “Ethan Vance, are you insane?! Didn’t you say we’d been together for five years and needed to get married soon?” “The entire social circle knows you’re my fiancé! Are you treating marriage like a game? Since when have you been so reckless?” I could picture her brows furrowing. Sure enough, her next words were a threat: “Mr. Thorne, I’m asking you one last time! Are you really not going through with this wedding?!” I clutched my phone, a bitter smile twisting my lips. “Yes, I don’t want you anymore, Aurora.” She scoffed. “I don’t have time for your childish tantrums. Do whatever you want!” The call was violently disconnected. I stood in the center of the banquet hall. Under the astonished gazes of the guests, I ripped off my boutonnière and bolted out. Mr. and Mrs. Hayes quickly intercepted me. Mr. Hayes preempted me, “Ethan Vance, what’s gotten into you? Just because her brother took her to the hospital, you’re going to ruin the wedding? Make the hundreds of guests laugh at the Hayes family?” Mrs. Hayes sneered, “I always said it wasn’t a good match. Our family, with its distinguished academic lineage, and your family, nothing but new money. It was never a proper pairing.” She added with a huff, “My daughter insisted, so I couldn’t do anything. See, now everyone’s laughing at us!” Mr. Hayes chuckled coldly, “Good! It’s better he doesn’t marry her. Saves us from his temper offending people and ruining the Hayes name.” They blamed me, despite Aurora being the one in the wrong. I clutched the crumpled boutonnière, my fingertips trembling. “Your daughter canceled the wedding. As for the reason… you two should ask her. I’m too embarrassed to say.” Hearing it was Aurora’s decision, they actually became more indignant. “Even if my daughter canceled, you, as the groom, just run off without a word? Shouldn’t you apologize face-to-face?” Mrs. Hayes scoffed, “How were your parents raising you? You don’t even understand basic social graces. How could you be a Hayes son-in-law?” I took a deep breath. “I will not marry Aurora. If you two are done, please move.” “You!” Their faces contorted in shock, clearly not expecting such defiance from the usually docile me. I ignored them, striding directly to the dressing room. A bespoke gown draped her familiar silhouette. Under the lights, the dark circles under her eyes betrayed her exhaustion. Seeing me, she approached gracefully, that sweet, practiced smile on her lips. I turned my face away. “Didn’t someone swear they’d never attend my wedding?” She suddenly leaned closer, her warm breath brushing my ear. Our eyes met, and for a moment, I saw the stubborn girl from ten years ago. “Ethan Vance, a bet’s a bet.” My lips thinned, unspoken. She grew anxious. “You forgot?!” “I don’t care. We’re getting married in three days. If you don’t show up…” She paused, “I’ll come to the Thorne family and claim you!” With that, as if afraid to hear a refusal, she swiftly slipped out the door. I suddenly laughed aloud. That fool. Of course, I remembered the bet. Our families were old friends, and we grew up together. Too familiar, perhaps, to become lovers. Ten years ago, she confessed her feelings for me, but I only saw her as a friend. She was hurt, and insisted on a wager. Now, it seemed, I had finally lost. 2 The moment I changed out of my wedding attire, Aurora sent me a photo. All my belongings were piled outside the villa gate like trash. The wedding quilt my mom had painstakingly sewn was the most glaring, stuffed carelessly into a clear plastic bag, its vivid crimson silk hurting my eyes in the sunlight. “Come pick it up immediately!” “If you don’t, I’ll tell Mrs. Davis to throw it away.” I stared at the screen, my fingertips growing cold. She knew exactly how to manipulate me. Other things I could discard, but that quilt had to come back. “Fine. I’m coming.” That quilt, my mom had spent three months on it. A woman who never touched a needle and thread, her fingers had been pricked and dotted with blood. On the night before the wedding, she had smiled, handing me the quilt. “My son, may you be happy your whole life.” But when I arrived, the doorway was empty. Just half an hour. I’d told her I was coming. Was she really that eager to kick me out? Fury surged. I shoved open the villa gate and stormed inside. The next second, I was plunged into ice. Aurora sat on the edge of the dining table, Julian’s hands resting on her waist, his cheek pressed to her slightly rounded belly, his eyes impossibly tender, blindingly so. “Aurora,” Julian suddenly whispered, “the baby kicked me.” Aurora’s lips curved into a smile I had never seen, her gaze so soft it seemed to drip with emotion. “So mischievous, just like you were when you were little. If only his eyes could be like yours too.” Julian smiled, his lips pressed together. Aurora leaned in, placing a familiar kiss on his lips. Her voice suddenly filled with remorse. “Are you really sure you want to leave once the baby is born? Actually… you could stay and help me care for the baby. A child so young, how could he not have his birth father?” Julian raised his index finger, pressing it gently to her lips, and shook his head. “Aurora, if I don’t leave, what about your husband?” At the mention of “husband,” Aurora visibly stiffened, then her expression darkened. “Him? He’s just throwing a tantrum saying he wants to break up. Once the baby’s born, won’t he come begging me to help with childcare? A man from a merchant family like that, all he cares about is profit, what dignity does he have?” “Have you forgotten how desperate he was to be my boyfriend? That sickening, eager look… even now, thinking about it makes me sick.” My tears fell silently. So, my confession, offered with such courage all those years ago, had sickened her for so long. The Hayes family was the premier family of calligraphers in Maplewood City. Aurora was its youngest renowned master calligrapher. Five years ago, she came to my father with a handwritten proposal, seeking investment for the Hayes Calligraphy Institute. My father praised her endlessly, specifically introducing her to me. I fell for her instantly, shamelessly insisting she teach me calligraphy. She was furious, pointing at me and scolding, “You’re clumsy! No talent at all!” I, ever the charmer, grinned, “Then be my girlfriend, we’d balance each other out perfectly, wouldn’t we?” She glanced at Julian, who was hunched over his writing, then suddenly clasped my hand, a self-deprecating laugh escaping her. “Fine.” I was so thrilled I hugged her, completely missing Julian’s hurried exit, and her momentary rigidity. Now I understood. Her heart had always belonged to Julian. No wonder she later refused to teach me calligraphy, or even let me into her study. My chest ached. I wanted to turn and leave, but then I remembered the wedding quilt my mom had sewn – it couldn’t be left behind. “Ethan Vance!” Aurora suddenly spun around, a sneer twisting her lips. “What are you doing, lurking at the door? I told you, all your things were thrown out. Regretting it now?” I dug my nails into my palms. “Where’s my wedding quilt? Give it back.” She paused, her face growing colder. “A tattered old quilt, why would I care about that?” “My mom sewed it herself,” my voice began to tremble. “Give it back, and I’ll leave immediately.” Seeing I was on the verge of tears, she frowned. “You’re crying? Are you insane? Is it really that big of a deal?” “Yes! It is!” I roared, and the tears finally broke free. 3 Aurora ran a frustrated hand through her hair, looking as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t. Julian, by her side, suddenly seemed to remember something, speaking quickly. “Ethan, don’t yell at Aurora. I told the staff to put your things in the guest room.” He said, gently caressing Aurora’s slightly swollen belly, his eyes instantly turning red. “Ethan, please don’t move out. If it’s because of this child… I… I can convince Aurora to terminate the pregnancy. His arrival was a mistake anyway. None of you welcome him…” He broke off, dissolving into choked sobs before finishing his sentence. “I forbid it!” Aurora’s voice was almost out of control, as she trembled and leaned into Julian’s embrace, glaring fiercely at me. “He can leave if he wants, but he won’t touch my child! You and the baby are my everything now!” “Ethan Vance, if that’s why you came here, then get out!” I scoffed, walking directly to the guest room. The wedding quilt lay carelessly on the floor, stained with grime and cigarette burns. The intricate phoenix and dragon embroidery was now disgustingly soiled. My fingers trembled as I pointed to the quilt. “Julian, explain this!” He cringed, shrinking his neck. “I didn’t mean to. I just thought it was unwanted trash.” He made to bend down to pick it up. “Ethan, please don’t be angry. I’ll help you wash it clean.” As he leaned down, Aurora suddenly lunged forward, shoving me violently to the ground. “Julian, don’t wash it! Don’t dirty your hands!” My head slammed hard against the bed frame. Excruciating pain exploded, and a warm liquid immediately trickled down my temple. I bit my lip, silent, only smiling as I looked at Aurora, trying to see if she had any heart left. She clung to Julian, her eyes cold, filled with extreme disgust. “How much money? I’ll pay! I’m begging you, stop causing trouble. Do you feel a sense of accomplishment by tormenting me and my brother with such insignificant trinkets?” My chest felt like it had been ripped open. She had always been distant with me, but never had she looked at me with such utter contempt. Now, she must truly hate me. Suddenly, it all felt pointless. Why bother to stay and annoy her further? I surrendered. The wedding quilt was dirty. I didn’t want it anymore. This soiled woman, I didn’t want her either. I pushed myself up. “Aurora, I don’t lack money.” As I turned to leave, she suddenly grabbed my arm, a hint of helplessness in her expression. “You’re upset today. Go back to the Thorne family and calm down for a few days. I’ll pick you up in three days.” I shook off her hand and quickly left. This home, which we had built for years, I was ultimately just a passerby.

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1 My fiancée always had an excellent memory, almost photographic, but when I proposed, she forgot to extend her hand for the diamond ring. When we went to get our marriage license, she forgot her ID. On our wedding day, she didn’t even show up. She was busy saving her childhood sweetheart’s wedding in the venue next door. This scene caused my mom to have a heart attack on the spot. I begged my fiancée to come to her bedside to explain, but she gently held the hand of her childhood sweetheart’s mother, called her “Mom,” and then claimed I was a persistent stalker. Later, I arranged my mother’s funeral alone and applied for an overseas assignment. When I got home to pack my bags, my fiancée, Scarlett, who had just returned from her honeymoon with her childhood sweetheart, Ethan, looked content and asked with a smile: “John, is your mother feeling better? We can pick another good day to have our wedding and make her happy.” She didn’t know that ever since my mom passed away, it was already over between us. I was folding winter clothes one by one into my suitcase. Suddenly, the front door was pushed open, and someone tiptoed in. A pair of cold hands covered my eyes from behind. “Guess who I am?” she asked playfully, intentionally lowering her voice, just like she used to tease me every time I returned from a business trip. In the past, I would have smiled and said, “Of course, my dearest darling,” and then tenderly warmed her hands. But now, only cold indifference remained in my heart; I had no mood to play along. I pulled her hands away directly and continued folding clothes. Scarlett paused, her fingers tightening slightly, then she cooed, “John, what’s wrong? Isn’t a month of silent treatment enough? Last time you suddenly burst into the wedding, it made everyone so awkward; I had to explain for ages.” I sneered. A month ago, I became the laughingstock in everyone’s eyes. My bride married someone else in front of everyone. My mom had a heart attack because of it, and I was disgracefully chased out of the venue by Scarlett, like a beggar. Until the day my mother was buried, the townsfolk were still pointing fingers at me, full of sarcasm: “That’s him, the guy whose wife ran off with someone on his wedding day? And he was supposed to be a straight-A student, thirty years old and can’t even find a partner!” “How embarrassing. I heard his mom’s passing was hastened by the stress. If I had a son like that, I’d just want to disappear!” That damp, oppressive feeling from the funeral surged back into my heart. Coming back to my senses, I calmly said: “It’s not silent treatment…” We’re breaking up. Before I could finish, Scarlett dragged out an “oh” sound and said with a smile, “Not silent treatment, you’re just mad at me, right? Alright, didn’t I send you a message explaining? Ethan’s fiancée ran off, and our families are old friends; helping out wouldn’t cost us a limb.” She flopped onto the sofa, picked up a black and gray sweater casually, and while folding it, she frowned and muttered, “This sweater is so ugly, why don’t we just throw it away!” I didn’t speak, just stared at the shining diamond ring on her ring finger, realizing only then what the cold touch that had covered my eyes was. Scarlett followed my gaze, quickly pulled off the ring and stuffed it into her pocket, sticking out her tongue and laughing, “We have to play the part fully, you know; I forgot to take it off. John, you big jealous baby, aren’t you mad again?” Actually, I wasn’t angry at all. I just suddenly remembered that when I proposed to her, kneeling on one knee and pulling out the custom-designed diamond ring, she didn’t extend her hand. She said she didn’t like the feeling of being restrained by a ring and would wear it during the ring exchange at the wedding. But in the end, she first wore the ring Ethan gave her, and couldn’t even bear to take it off. Angry? Never again. For the past month, I had masochistically watched news reports of Scarlett and Ethan on their honeymoon, traveling the world, and my heart had long gone numb. I looked away, not answering, just taking the sweater back from her hand and saying flatly, “This is a wool sweater my mom knitted for me herself.” Scarlett’s hand froze in mid-air. She looked somewhat displeased, pursed her lips, but still suppressed her anger and said gently, “Oh, by the way, how’s your mom? She should be much better after a month of rest, right?” She added with a smile, “Actually, I always felt our wedding venue was too small and simple. Let’s take this opportunity to pick a new date and have a luxurious wedding, that’ll make your mom happy!” I knew Scarlett was in a good mood today and had given me many chances to back down. If I didn’t take them, she would definitely blow up. But she forgot, on the day we were supposed to get our marriage license, she claimed she forgot her ID and went to the Registrar’s Office, but then turned around and accompanied Ethan, whose fiancée had absconded, to try on wedding dresses. We never even got the license, and we didn’t need any wedding. Coming back to my senses, I just gave a desolate laugh: “No need.” After being cold-shouldered by me several times, Scarlett’s face immediately darkened. She was about to speak when her phone suddenly rang. Seeing Ethan’s name on the screen, her brows relaxed, and she said sweetly, “I just got home, why are you calling?” I don’t know what was said on the other end, but she cradled the phone between her neck and shoulder, picked up the camel wool coat from the coat rack, and laughed, “Ethan, you’re annoying! Your girlfriend’s still trying to soothe her boyfriend! This is the last time, alright!” I watched her skillfully put the ring back on, checked her makeup and the hem of her coat in the full-length mirror, and picked up her bag, ready to leave. When her hand was on the doorknob, she seemed to remember my existence. So she hastily turned back, stood on tiptoe, ruffled my hair, and said in a clingy voice, “Alright, John, stop sulking. I bought you a little gift; I’ll bring it to you tonight.” I watched her leave, then turned to the floor-to-ceiling window. Through the glass, I saw a bright yellow sports car parked downstairs, its chassis so low it looked like it was hugging the ground. Ethan was leaning against the car door, a lit cigarette flickering between his fingers. And Scarlett, who was always a clean freak, skillfully took the cigarette from Ethan’s hand, bit the filter, and turned to sit in the passenger seat. I looked away, pulling the curtains shut. Turning, I picked up the overseas assignment application form on my desk, which I had already filled out. 2 Fingering the sharp edge of the application form, I left the house without hesitation and hailed a cab to the company. After a day of packing, it was already evening. I had applied for the overseas assignment in the system two days ago, and it had been approved; now I just needed to submit the paper information for filing. At the company, everyone looked at me and whispered. “Isn’t that the guy from the video who caused a scene at CEO Ma’s wedding? Oh, wasn’t he on bereavement leave a while ago? How dare he show up again?” “I bet he’s here to resign. He’s been working for the company for ten years, and he’s still just a team leader. They say he’s applied for promotion five times and never got approved. What a loser.” These harsh comments, which once made me feel depressed, now left me unfazed. After all, during the time I was arranging my mother’s funeral, I had heard too many similar taunts. I walked straight ahead, knocked on my superior, Mr. Davis’s office door. “Come in.” Mr. Davis looked at the form in my hand, nodded, and said with satisfaction, “John, I didn’t believe you the other day when you said you wanted to go overseas. Before, when I suggested it, you said you wanted to stay with your girlfriend and didn’t want a long-distance relationship. This time you’re quite decisive.” “Tomorrow, people from headquarters will come to inspect the overseas assignment situation. You just need to show up at the company again tomorrow, and then you can leave.” “Speaking of which, we were interns at the same time. You were more capable than me and helped me a lot. Now you’ve finally come to your senses… That’s good.” I lowered my gaze. Yes, perhaps it was bad luck; all my fellow interns became executives, while I remained stagnant. Walking out of the company, I looked back at the skyscraper I had worked in for ten years. For these ten years, Scarlett’s family company grew stronger and stronger, even their branch office building reached new heights. But why did my relationship with Scarlett collapse so spectacularly? My meeting with Scarlett was a classic rich girl meets poor student story. My father passed away early, and my mother raised me alone. At that time, besides classes, I practically squeezed out every minute to work part-time, helping people with tutoring. Until a thug not only owed me tutoring fees but also brought his buddies, wanting me to hand over all my money. I was full of despair; it was Scarlett who came with bodyguards and saved me, pulled me up from the ground, and even offered to treat me to dinner. She said her grades weren’t good, and she was afraid of failing, so she asked me to help her cram for finals. Actually, I knew her grades were excellent; this was just her way of helping me. I was attracted by her kindness and outgoing personality, and we gradually got together. On the day I confessed my feelings, she held my hand and declared to everyone on campus: “This is my smart, handsome boyfriend!” When I graduated, I gave up a government-sponsored overseas scholarship. When I started working, I gave up a high-paying executive job at a major international company. I just wanted to stay with Scarlett, hoping simply to marry her, have children, and grow old together. Everything changed a year ago, on the day Scarlett’s childhood sweetheart, Ethan, returned from overseas. That day, Scarlett left me, sick, for the first time, just to pick up Ethan at the airport. That night, she got completely drunk at the welcome party, lay in Ethan’s arms, whining that she wouldn’t come back with me, crying and asking, “Ethan, why did you take so long to come back!” From then on, I constantly argued with her because of Ethan. I wanted her to have boundaries, but she accused me of being too controlling, not allowing her to have any friends. She even said sarcastically that, considering Ethan and she had known each other since childhood, I was the latecomer. Until two months ago, on the day Ethan sent her a wedding invitation, she, who had refused my 99 marriage proposals, suddenly leaned into my arms and muttered, “John, maybe we should get married too?” Shaking my head, I shook off the memories, my silhouette stretched long in the setting sun, a solitary figure. In this world, I no longer had any family. After a few steps, the sky turned completely dark. I was just about to pull out my phone to call a cab home. Then, I heard a familiar laugh nearby, speaking intimately: “Ethan, put me down quickly, if you drop me, you’re dead!” Turning my head, I saw the entrance of a bustling bar, bathed in neon lights. Ethan was carrying Scarlett in a princess carry and spinning her around. Scarlett’s long arms were tightly wrapped around Ethan, laughing heartily. A crowd had gathered around them, egging them on. “Alright, three more rounds! Go, Ethan, don’t forget to drink an interlocked arms toast with your wife when you stop!” “That’s some serious boyfriend strength! No wonder Princess Scarlett can’t forget our Prince Ethan!” After Ethan stopped, Scarlett, a bit dizzy, jumped down and then, with Ethan, skillfully took the wine glasses handed to them by the people nearby and drank a toast with interlocked arms. Instantly, the cheering around them grew louder, clapping and shouting: “Kiss! Kiss!” Scarlett seemed a bit dazed and didn’t move. Ethan laughed, defending Scarlett: “Alright, you guys. You just got back from your honeymoon and you’re already trying to make up for some post-wedding shenanigans. My wife has been playing along all day, from noon to afternoon; it’s time for everyone to go home!” But the next second, Scarlett grabbed Ethan’s tie, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him directly. Her eyes were open, her gaze clear and tender. The next second, she looked away, slowly released Ethan’s tie, and covered her head, pretending to be drunk: “I want to go home… My head hurts so bad…” I took in Scarlett’s attentiveness, her careful love for Ethan. And I watched as she shakily pulled out her phone and made a call. Then, my phone rang. From several meters away. Scarlett heard the ringtone and, the moment our eyes met, she straightened up. 3 Everyone looked at us, bewildered, as we stared at each other, and asked Scarlett, “Scarlett, who is this?” Scarlett’s eyes flickered, and she mumbled, “He’s our family driver. My mom asked me to go home for dinner with her today.” Ethan’s eyes were full of triumph; he deliberately enunciated each word: “Oh, so he’s the driver. Well, you’d better take good care of your young lady.” If it were the old me, I would have grabbed Ethan by the collar and started a fight. Now, I just felt bored; I didn’t even spare a glance, turning to get into the ride-share I had called earlier. Back home, I hadn’t eaten all afternoon, and my stomach was cramping, so I cooked myself some plain noodles. I had barely taken two bites when I heard the click-clack of high heels outside. The next second, Scarlett kicked the door open. Seeing me eating, she flew into a rage, turning and hitting my back with her purse: “John, why did you just turn and leave earlier? Do you have any idea how much face that made me lose!” What surprised me even more was that Ethan had followed her. He put a concerned arm around Scarlett’s shoulder from behind, saying gently, “Scarlett, how can you hit John? Didn’t I say we should talk nicely?” He turned to me with a smile, masking the triumph in his eyes. “John, please don’t get angry. I just followed along to explain because I was afraid you two would argue, but you also have a point. Scarlett’s a girl; how could you leave her alone on the street?” Another chopstickful of noodles went into my mouth; I answered Scarlett without lifting my head: “Scarlett, with your husband Ethan there, what are you afraid of?” Scarlett’s face turned ashen; she was so angry her chest heaved continuously: “What husband? John, you need to have a limit to your jealousy, alright? Those are just some acquaintances in our circle, and Ethan and I were just putting on a show! Do you think I like drinking? I did it all for you!” I found it absurd. She was clearly enjoying being lovey-dovey with Ethan, and now she’s acting all aggrieved? Looking at Scarlett, I put down my chopsticks and countered, “For me?” Scarlett said matter-of-factly: “For you! Ethan’s family and mine are merging, and my mom only agreed to give me the heir position if I married him! Only then can I be with you, and only then can I transfer you to headquarters as a VP. Isn’t all of this for you and your career!” Ethan subtly frowned, a hint of malice flashing in his eyes, but he superficially agreed: “Scarlett’s right, you don’t know this, do you? To protect you, she deliberately rejected all your promotion applications over the years. She put so much thought into you!” I froze. Suddenly, a chill ran down to the top of my head. So all the cold treatment I received over the years was orchestrated by Scarlett herself. Then what were all those late nights working overtime on proposals, the contracts I signed only after drinking until my stomach bled, the lack of holidays that meant I rarely saw my mother? What did all that count for? I asked Scarlett, “Is that true?” Scarlett didn’t feel guilty at all; instead, she nodded as if seeking praise: “Yes, not only to protect you, but also to temper your will, so you can take on great responsibilities! It’s just a little salary; now that you’re my husband, you’ll have everything you want in the future.” I found it ridiculous. Scarlett always insisted on not making our relationship public. Even for our wedding, she only wanted me to invite my closest relatives and friends, not to make a big deal of it. Practically no one knew about our relationship; her so-called ‘protection’ of me was just an empty excuse. Everything was just to satisfy her controlling desire to belittle and suppress me, making me revolve around her. Now I realized that what I once believed to be sweetness and sincerity was never pure. I shook my head, finally speaking the words in my heart: “Scarlett, let’s break up!” Scarlett’s eyes widened; she looked at me in disbelief. Her lips trembled; she couldn’t even utter a single word. A gleam of joy flashed in Ethan’s eyes, and he quickly reprimanded, “John, you can’t break up with Scarlett just because she’s close with me! Scarlett really loves you; when she was on her honeymoon, the first thing she thought about when she saw unique souvenirs was sending them to you!” With someone backing her up, Scarlett regained her composure and became even angrier, putting her hands on her hips and scoffing, “John, are you getting more and more carried away? Do you think you have me wrapped around your finger? Break up? Do you even have the right to break up with me? For the past ten years, you’ve eaten my food, used my things, I found you your job, what more do you want?” She spoke in a long, unbroken stream, as if she had prepared it in advance. So she was so dissatisfied with me, thinking she was the one who paid the most. If it were the old me, I might have argued with her, debating who had sacrificed more. But now, looking at her in a rage. I suddenly laughed. “Thank you.” Instantly, Scarlett’s anger subsided a lot; she looked confused: “Thank you for what?” My lips were still curled upwards as I calmly said, “Thank you for letting me know that in your heart, I’m just a useless leech.” After speaking, I took the finished dishes and chopsticks into the kitchen, turned on the faucet, and washed them clean. When I came out again, Scarlett was still standing there, motionless. Ethan handed her a glass of honey water, whispering, “Scarlett, drink some honey water to sober up, you used to love it.” For the first time, Scarlett placed the glass absentmindedly on the table. Her face flushed; after a long moment, she softly said to me, “I didn’t mean that…” I ignored her, turned around, picked up my already packed suitcase, and walked out. As I walked out the door, behind me, a glass was violently smashed against the doorframe, breaking into pieces. Sticky honey water splattered all over me. Then, another box was thrown to the ground. Inside, two clay rings spilled out. 4 I looked at the clay rings at my feet, a bit puzzled. Behind me, Scarlett shrieked, full of grievance: “These are the rings I specifically made for you overseas! I was always thinking of you, John! Why are you so inconsiderate, running away from home!” I only found it laughable. I don’t know what she was thinking. The initials of Scarlett and Ethan were engraved on the inside of the rings, clearly their couple’s rings. Yet she had the nerve to say they were specially made for me. My steps no longer faltered; I pulled my suitcase and found a random hotel to rest for the night. Anyway, I was leaving this city tomorrow. The next morning, I finished washing up and went to the company. But I didn’t expect to hear a chorus of praise as soon as I entered the company. “Wow, CEO Scarlett and CEO Ethan, you two are so perfect together! And you’re even wearing matching outfits, you guys are couple goals!” “CEO Scarlett, CEO Ethan, I’m also a fan of your ship! Can you let me take a picture?” I saw Scarlett and Ethan standing hand-in-hand in the center of the company, accepting everyone’s adoration, while Mr. Davis was bowing and smiling apologetically. Turns out they were the so-called “headquarters people.” Seeing me, Mr. Davis introduced, “John, these are CEO Scarlett and VP Ethan from headquarters. They’re here to check on the overseas assignment situation.” Scarlett deliberately turned her head away from me, her previously upturned lips flattening, and she just asked coldly, “Who are the people going on overseas assignment this time?” Mr. Davis found my name and two others, and smiled, “These three.” Instantly, Scarlett’s expression froze, her eyes clouded with dark emotions. Ethan immediately jumped in, his face filled with shock, and he reprimanded, “How are you conducting your work? Don’t you know our company strictly prohibits married employees from overseas assignments! Both the applicant and the approver will be penalized!” Mr. Davis looked bewildered and blurted out, “There are no married people here.” Scarlett’s delicate brows furrowed slightly; she pointed at me, her red lips curving into a cold sneer: “Didn’t this person take marriage leave a while ago?” Mr. Davis honestly replied, “He initially took marriage leave, but I guess he applied for the wrong one. It was later changed to bereavement leave; his mother passed away.” Upon hearing this, Scarlett’s face instantly turned pale, her outstretched finger stiff, looking at me in disbelief. As if realizing something, her eyes flickered, and she quietly asked, “Why didn’t you tell me… about your mother’s passing…” I found it ridiculous. My mother had always cherished Scarlett as a daughter-in-law, saying I was incredibly lucky to marry her, and always looked forward to the day Scarlett would call her “Mom.” But what my mother received was Scarlett marrying someone else and affectionately calling their mother “Mom.” I said calmly, “No need, Ms. Ma. Does headquarters even manage the personal affairs of regular employees?” Scarlett felt something gradually slipping out of control; she gritted her teeth, and her anger flared up: “How is it unnecessary! I’m still her daughter-in-law, after all!” “Whose daughter-in-law are you?” While everyone looked astonished, the company’s main door was pushed open. An elderly woman walked in, the fine lines around her eyes revealing a sharp demeanor. Scarlett’s mother, Ms. Henderson, the chairwoman of Henderson Corp. Everyone reacted, collectively calling out: “Good morning, Chairwoman Henderson!” Chairwoman Henderson nodded; she turned her head and asked Ethan with a smile, “Ethan, I asked you two young spouses to show your faces at the branch offices, but it seems you’ve run into some trouble?” Remembering Scarlett’s earlier statement, everyone present remained silent, not daring to breathe. Ethan’s face turned green, then white, then he forced a smile: “Scarlett’s best friend is John’s wife, and now that John is going overseas, Scarlett just wants to stand up for her friend.” Hearing this, Scarlett bit her lip and remained silent, her head bowed in conflicted thought. Chairwoman Henderson’s brows deepened further; she said sternly, “Is someone daring to violate company policy? I want to see who’s so bold!” I spoke calmly, “Chairwoman Henderson, they’ve misunderstood. I’m not married, and my ex-girlfriend and I broke up peacefully a long time ago.” Chairwoman Henderson raised an eyebrow slightly, looked me up and down, then asked Scarlett, “I’ve seen John’s file; he is indeed unmarried. Are you mistaken? He needs to catch his flight today; don’t delay him.” “Catch his flight?” Scarlett’s pupils suddenly contracted. Turning, she saw my calm expression, and Scarlett’s heart skipped a beat. She suddenly showed a panicked expression and blurted out, “Mom! It’s not a best friend, it’s me! I’m John’s wife! How could I be mistaken? The marriage license date was November 3rd; he must be lying! I personally got the license with him that day!” Everyone present swallowed hard, never expecting to witness such a scene of family drama. Scarlett’s expression relaxed a little, thinking this would stop me from going overseas. But Chairwoman Henderson’s brows deepened further; she looked between me and Scarlett, and after a moment, made her judgment: “What nonsense are you talking about? Even if he’s your ex-boyfriend, your ID has always been safely locked away with me. What would you have used to get a marriage license with him?”

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My wife exploded in rage. All I’d done was press a mere inch deeper into her during intimacy. “Who gave you the gall? To dare to covet a place even Jasper has never reached!” “You shameless wretch, I’ll make you remember your place!” She ordered my legs broken, had the word “filth” carved across my skin, and then forced me to pay her a hundred million dollars in emotional damages. I toiled from dawn till dusk, working seven jobs a day just to pay off the debt. But my wife found my common labor an embarrassment, so she locked me in a custom-built, electrified kennel for “reflection.” My young son, crying as if his heart would break, managed to sneak me out when the bodyguards weren’t looking. For that, my wife had him beaten viciously and then left for the stray dogs outside. “You damned little bastard! How dare you defy my orders! This is what happens!” Watching my son, his small body mauled and bloody, I knelt, frantically apologizing, begging her for just a sliver of money for medical care. But she just smirked, flinging an outrageous bill for a billion dollars in my face. “You two useless pieces of trash, you owe me so much, and you have the audacity to ask me for money! If it’s not paid in full within twenty-four hours, prepare to collect that little beast’s corpse!” My heart turned to ash. As I crawled back, clutching the few hundred dollars I’d gotten from selling my blood, my son’s body was already stiff and cold. Meanwhile, news of my wife lavishing billions on a global art exhibition for her childhood sweetheart was sweeping through the city’s elite circles. I clutched my son’s mangled remains, tears streaming down my face, the grief a dull blade gouging at my heart, searing deep into my bones. 1 In a hushed corner of the hospital, my son lay still, lifeless in a spreading pool of blood. His small body was a map of grotesque wounds, his face barely recognizable. I collapsed beside him, my hands trembling as I reached out, wanting to gather him into my arms, yet terrified to touch. A tidal wave of agonizing pain consumed me, drowning out everything else. Nurses bustled past, oblivious, their excited whispers about the trending news piercing the suffocating silence. “Oh my god, spending a fortune just to make her childhood sweetie smile. Is this what rich people’s love looks like?” “Of course, only a genius artist like Jasper Davies deserves a top-tier female CEO!” “Another love story, and I’m crying over it!” Their shrill voices, repeated over and over, flayed my soul. My hand touched the thin stack of bills in my pocket. I couldn’t even afford a proper urn. In desperation, I dialed Valerie’s number. After a long, agonizing wait, her furious voice blared through the receiver: “Caleb Thorne! You have the nerve to call me! I put you in that cage for reflection, to give you a chance to reform! Who gave you the audacity to escape? Breaking the kennel means you owe me another hundred million! Or I swear, I’ll feed that little brat to the dogs!” Another absurd excuse. For seven years, Valerie had found endless ways to humiliate me. I had grown accustomed to it, but then a man’s voice filtered through the line. “Thorne, you messed up, so you deserve the punishment. My sister was merciful enough not to kill you, why can’t you learn to behave?” My heart was a raw, throbbing wound. But to give my son a proper burial, I had to crush my pride. My voice was barely a whisper. “Please, just a thousand dollars more. I’ll find a way to pay you back. I just want to bury my so—” Valerie shrieked, cutting me off, a shrill, hysterical sound. “Shut up! Don’t use that worthless brat as an excuse! He’s dead, and he’s not worth a penny to me! I’m warning you, if you don’t pay up, it won’t just be broken legs this time!” Her scream threatened to shatter my eardrums. I collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down my face. Around me, the nurses’ laughter rippled, oblivious. Outside, on the massive screen, endless loops of my wife and Jasper kissing sweetly played on. In that moment, my heart turned to ash. I took the last few dollars I had, crawling to the crematorium gates, begging until my head bled and my knees were bruised purple. Only then did they grudgingly agree to cremate my son. The raging flames devoured everything, along with my last flickering hope, reducing it all to dust. I couldn’t even afford an urn for his ashes, so I stripped off my shirt, wrapping his remains inside to carry them home. The moment I pushed open the door, a sticky, cloying scent hit me, sickeningly sweet and opulent. I gagged, stumbling towards my son’s bedroom, hand clamped over my mouth. Torn stockings and lace lingerie lay scattered across the floor, tangling around my feet, as if mocking my helplessness. I frantically kicked them away, but their filthy residue clung to my shoes, the glistening streaks a blinding, nauseating glare. I fought back the urge to cry, reaching under the bed for a crumpled photograph. In it, I held my son, smiling, while Valerie stood behind us, her back to the camera, distant and cold. She had never been affectionate with Leo; this secretly taken picture was his only keepsake of her. The least I could do was let it accompany him on his final journey. I carefully tucked the photo into the ashes, preparing to leave. Footsteps sounded suddenly outside the door, and a harsh, familiar voice echoed: “Well, if it isn’t Valerie’s lapdog, stripped bare and crawling back home?” Jasper leaned against the doorframe, his eyes brimming with contempt. I merely looked at him, saying nothing, tightening my embrace around the cloth-wrapped ashes. His eyes narrowed. He stepped forward, reaching out to snatch the bundle from my arms. “What did you take?!” I clutched it tighter, my voice raw. “Don’t touch my things!” At my words, Jasper scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. “What in this house is yours? Not even your wife, she’s mine. A man as useless as you might as well just die!” He puffed out his chest, revealing faint, suggestive marks there, a blatant display of triumph. In the past, I would have fought him, even if it killed me. But now, all I wanted was to properly lay my son to rest. I didn’t even glance at him, just numbly tried to walk past him, out the door. But Jasper suddenly exploded, kicking me hard in the lower back. He grabbed my hair, brutally yanking away the cloth containing the ashes. “You worthless piece of garbage! You don’t deserve to touch anything of mine!” The cloth ripped, and the pale-gray ashes scattered across the floor. A heart-wrenching scream tore from my throat. I stumbled, desperate, scrambling on hands and knees to gather the ashes. But a high heel crushed my fingers, pinning me down. I looked up, following the leg, to see Valerie towering over me, her eyes overflowing with unconcealed disgust. “Caleb Thorne, you are truly disgusting.” Her icy voice cut through me like a sharp blade, piercing directly to my soul. I bit down, teeth clenched, but no sound escaped. Jasper, brazenly wrapping an arm around Valerie’s waist, whined pitifully, “I was just worried that he might take the wrong thing, and then he just attacked me all of a sudden. I guess I shouldn’t have interfered. After all, he’s the man of the house… I guess I deserved to get hit.” I reached for the photograph, my voice a pathetic whisper as I knelt on the floor. “I’m sorry. I just want my things back. I promise I’ll never appear before you again.” Valerie looked down at the photo beneath her foot, then bent to pick it up, shaking off the ashes. As the image became clearer, she chuckled, a cold, dismissive sound. Without a hint of hesitation, she tore it to shreds. “No!” My eyes burned, bloodshot, as a desperate scream tore from my throat. “A worthless piece of paper, and you cherish it so much? How ridiculous!” The fragments fluttered down, mirroring the shattered pieces of my own heart. I lifted my head, my throat raw and hoarse, demanding: “Valerie Stone, do you have a heart? Leo was your own flesh and blood! He was so small, he used to clutch your picture even in his sleep and call for ‘Mommy’!” “What did he do wrong, that you wanted him dead?!” No sooner had the words left my lips than Valerie’s hand flashed out, delivering a stinging slap across my face. “What are you, some kind of saint, to lecture me? You two useless parasites, you eat my food, use my money, and you dare defy me?” Her voice rose to a shrill crescendo. “His only mistake was having a worthless father like you!” I clutched my burning cheek, blood seeping from the corner of my mouth. Jasper stepped forward, a smug grin plastered on his face, feigning concern. “My bad, I honestly didn’t know you’d wrap his ashes in your shirt. But he’s dead, and keeping his remains is just bad luck. How about I clean it up for you?” As he spoke, he picked up a vacuum cleaner, ready to switch it on. Blood rushed to my head. I lunged forward, pushing him with all my might. But before I even touched him, Valerie’s foot lashed out, kicking me to the ground where I retched up a mouthful of blood. “How dare you lay a hand on Jasper?” Her voice was laced with menace. “Touch him again, and I’ll make your life a living hell!” I clutched my chest, gasping for air, my eyes filled with a desolate despair. “Valerie, let’s get a divorce.” At my words, she scoffed, as if I’d just uttered the most hilarious joke. “You owe me money, and you think you can just divorce me? You don’t deserve to!” Her voice sharpened, venomous. “Until that debt is paid in full, you won’t take a single step outside this house!” I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to stand, tears welling in my eyes. The once kind and gentle Valerie had died long ago, buried in distant memories. The ridiculous truth was, until this very day, I had still clung to a sliver of hope. That someday, she would remember the good in me, and our family could return to what it once was. Through blurred vision, I managed a bitter laugh, meeting her gaze once more, my voice resolute. “Fine. I’ll pay you back.” No sooner had the words left my lips than I snatched the dagger from the table, plunging it fiercely into my abdomen! The wet, tearing sound of the blade sinking into flesh echoed eerily in the silent room. Valerie’s brow furrowed, her pupils dilating in shock. I swallowed the metallic tang in my throat, a grim smile on my face as I looked at her. “Will my organs be enough to pay you back?” Valerie froze for a second, then her face contorted in furious disbelief. “Caleb Thorne, what the hell are you doing?!” Her voice was shrill. “Don’t think this pathetic stunt will make me go soft on you!” The pain was a raging fire, searing through my insides, but it couldn’t compare to the shattering despair of my heart. Blood dripped onto the floor, blooming into a crimson stain. “Not enough? Then let’s try again!” I pulled out the blade as if unfazed, then aimed for my chest and plunged it in again. Valerie rushed forward, snatching the knife from my hand, her voice seething with anger. “What are you doing?! How much is your pathetic life worth, anyway?!” A string of insults, too vile to be repeated, flowed from her lips. “I’m warning you, you owe me money, and not a single cent will be missing!” Jasper cowered behind her, timidly tugging her sleeve. Valerie immediately, tenderly, wiped the blood from his face, then roughly shoved me to the ground. “If you want to die, get out of here! Don’t scare Jasper!” I pushed myself up, clutching the last of the ashes and the photo fragments to my chest. Covering my bleeding abdomen, I stumbled to the door and pushed it open. “Thank you for letting me go. When I save up enough money, I’ll file for divorce.” Valerie scoffed, her voice dripping with mockery. “You? A worthless piece of trash no one would even pay for on the street. You wouldn’t pay off that debt in eight lifetimes!” She spat. “You’ll come crawling back to me on your knees, begging!” I said nothing more, just gave her a cold, hard look. Gritting my teeth, clinging to consciousness, I stumbled out of that cage. Jasper, clinging intimately to Valerie’s hand, feigned concern, but his eyes burned with a murderous hatred for me. “He just left like that. He won’t… do anything drastic, will he?” Valerie merely glanced at him, her tone dismissive. “Don’t worry, that good-for-nothing leech, he’s too afraid to die.” My body swayed in the biting wind, but it couldn’t match the desolation in my heart. “I’m so sorry, Leo. Your dad… your dad was useless.” I stumbled along, two long bloodstains snaking behind me on the pavement. Under the strange stares of passersby, I crawled to the organ donation center. Lying on the cold operating table, my consciousness began to blur. Yet, a look of profound relief touched my lips. My son, I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. Let your father, with this broken body, send you off on your final journey. … A week later, Jasper Davies’s art exhibition tour began as scheduled. Valerie, looking at the bustling crowd, felt a sudden, inexplicable sense of unease, as if some crucial detail had slipped her mind. “Valerie, what’s wrong? You look awful.” Jasper approached, his voice laced with concern. Valerie squeezed his hand, forcing a strained smile. “Nothing. Just a little tired lately, I guess.” She closed her eyes, and Caleb’s bloody image flashed in her mind again. Just then, her phone vibrated violently. A cold sweat broke out, and she fumbled for it, her fingers trembling. The screen blared a notification: a transfer of a billion dollars.

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1 May 20th. My boyfriend and I headed to Prospect Park Lake to take some instant photos. When the pictures developed, I noticed a faint, unsettling detail: a woman in a pink dress, barely visible, standing behind my boyfriend in the shot. I asked him if he saw anything unusual, and he flatly denied it. As I described her features – her long, dark hair, the delicate lace on her dress – a cold sweat broke out on his brow. I thought that was the end of it. But then, it wasn’t just that one photo. Our wedding portraits at home, even selfies on my phone… they all started to show the same woman in pink. My boyfriend, Alex Stone, finally admitted it. It was Kiera Vance, his ex-girlfriend. But he swore they’d broken up three years ago. He tried to contact Kiera’s parents. Over the phone, they insisted they didn’t know him at all. And they’d never had a daughter named Kiera Vance… “Alex Stone, what else are you hiding from me?!” The phone clicked dead, and in that instant, the man standing before me felt like a complete stranger. What secret was he keeping from me? Just before taking that instant photo, he’d pulled out a ring and proposed. We’d even set a wedding date. But now, with this unfolding horror, my mind was a chaotic mess. After a tense silence, Alex suggested we take the photo directly to the police. At the precinct, I handed the officer the sketch I’d drawn of the woman in pink. “Officer, could you please look into this young woman’s information?” The officer searched for a long time, but found nothing. “There’s no record of a person matching this description.” “That’s impossible, Officer! I even lived with her for a year. Old photos, right!” Alex fumbled for his phone, scrolling furiously through his gallery. He paused, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I got a new phone two years ago, and all the old pictures are gone.” “Can they be recovered?” “You’d need your old phone for that. And the police department can’t recover them. You’ll have to take it to a specialized shop.” Back home, Alex began frantically searching for his old phone while I looked for our old shared photos. Before we left, I checked: every single photo I had with him seemed to include Kiera Vance. But now, as I pulled them out again, Kiera was gone. And on that instant photo… her original sorrowful expression had twisted into a faint smile. I gasped, dropping the photo to the floor in sheer terror. “Found it!” Alex’s old phone was ancient, its camera pixelated, at least eight years old. He’d lost it once before, taking a picture of me by Prospect Park Lake, when it slipped from his grasp and plunged into the water. Out of guilt, I’d bought him a new one. We found a phone repair shop. The owner was a surprisingly young, clear-faced guy. Alex leaned in, whispering to me, “He’s so young. Can he really fix it?” To our surprise, the owner overheard him. He looked up, a sharp glint in his eyes. “If you don’t trust me, the door’s to your left.” I tugged on Alex’s arm, then handed the phone over. “How long will it take to recover the photos?” The owner didn’t even lift his gaze. “Five minutes,” he mumbled. Seeing his swift movements and the reasonable price, Alex and I waited anxiously. Ring! Ring! Ring! Alex’s phone rang. It was his parents. His face grew darker with each passing second. “Avery, stay here. There’s a drawing of Kiera Vance on my parents’ front door!” His words sent a chill down my spine. I nodded. After Alex left, the owner handed me the phone. When he looked up, I froze. The boy before me bore a striking resemblance to Kiera—almost a spitting image. He lowered his voice. “Sis, it’s Kyle.” My body stiffened, but I quickly regained my composure. “The photos are recovered, but there’s a hidden album that needs a password.” Taking the phone, I eagerly opened the album. Most of them were everyday shots, with only a few solo pictures of Alex. It seemed Kiera’s photos were indeed in the hidden album. I tentatively entered Alex’s birthday. Incorrect password. I had no choice but to take the phone to Alex’s parents’ house. The moment I stepped through the door, Mrs. Stone flung a dirty rag at my face. “Was it you?! Trying to scare two old people like us?!” I was stunned by the sudden accusation. Alex stepped in front of me, shielding me. “Mom, can you just stop? Avery has nothing to do with this!” “Impossible! You’re the only one who saw Kiera Vance’s photos! That drawing on our door must be your doing!” I retreated to the hallway, examining the drawing on the door. It was an exact replica of Kiera from the instant photo. The paint wasn’t even completely dry; it must have been drawn just hours ago. “Mrs. Stone, I know you’ve never liked me, but Alex and I have been together this whole time. How could I have had time to come here and draw this?” “She’s right, Mom. Your mental state hasn’t been stable lately. Let me handle this. You just stay out of it.” Mrs. Stone wept, hitting her legs, muttering. “Arthur, look at your son. He’s taking a stranger’s side now. He doesn’t even trust his own mother anymore.” Annoyed, I left the Stone house. Alex had proposed to me a year into our relationship, but I couldn’t stand his mother’s temper; she was incredibly peculiar. Alex explained that she’d suffered a trauma once, which had affected her mentally. 2 I asked him what kind of trauma, and he just said it was because his father, Arthur Stone, had died, but he never really explained the specifics. As I walked downstairs, Alex caught up to me, trying to coax me. I ignored him, but then he simply dropped to his knees. “Baby, this is a time when we need to face things together. Please don’t be mad at me, or at my mom. How much longer does she have? Our future is just for us.” I nodded, then handed Alex the phone and asked if he remembered Kiera’s birthday. Alex tried the password three more times, but it still wouldn’t unlock. “That’s odd. I’m sure Kiera’s birthday was this.” Alex was about to try a fifth time. But the system flashed a message: Too many incorrect attempts. Next attempt available in three days. Frustrated, this lead was dead too. “Alex, do you really know how Kiera died?” I gazed at the instant photo. Kiera’s expression hadn’t changed. I hadn’t noticed it before, but her clothes were wet, the pink dress clinging to her thin shoulders. After telling Alex my theory, his expression grew uneasy. “Are you still hiding something from me?” I stared directly into Alex’s eyes. “Given how things are now, if you hide anything else from me, we’re through!” After a long silence, Alex finally spoke. “Kiera might have drowned.” Alex said that whenever Kiera and he argued, she would threaten to jump into the river. And on the day they broke up, she’d said the same thing. “Then why didn’t you tell me this before?” This was a crucial clue, and Alex had kept it from me. “Because… because Kiera cheated on me! That time I took Mom to Prospect Park Lake, I accidentally saw Kiera with another man… I was too embarrassed to tell you.” A sudden realization struck me: Alex’s head was glowing green with deceit. “What did that man look like? He might be the key to finding Kiera!” “I only remember he was carrying a dirty duffel bag, and he was covered in grime. He must have just arrived in the city.” Alex wracked his brain but couldn’t recall any specific facial features. “Maybe we can check the surveillance footage around Prospect Park Lake from that day.” Alex and I went to the precinct again. But to our disappointment, that particular spot was a blind area for the cameras. Nothing could be seen. The police said it was common for many girls from rural backgrounds not to have birth certificates, so it was normal not to find them in the system. But Alex said, “No, that’s not right. Kiera came from a good family. Her demeanor was nothing like someone from the countryside.” “Oh, right, Avery, give me my old phone!” He opened the notes app. There was an address listed. Alex said Kiera had given it to him before. Following that address might lead us somewhere. When Alex and I arrived at Kiera’s supposed address, I was shocked. It was a sprawling estate in a gated community. Alex sighed. “Now do you believe Kiera wasn’t some unregistered girl from the countryside?” A security guard stopped us at the gate. “Hello, we’re looking for Kiera Vance. Does she live here?” The guard claimed not to know anyone by that name. I handed him Kiera’s sketch. He looked at it for a long time, then said, “I remember this person. She applied for a housekeeper position five years ago!” “You remember someone you met five years ago, just once?” Neither Alex nor I believed the guard. “Heh heh, because she was so beautiful, that’s why I remember her…” The guard’s face flushed as he spoke, making it seem like he wasn’t making it up. “Did she go somewhere after that? Do you remember?” The guard thought for a long time, then shook his head. “Are there any surveillance archives from back then?” “Our security footage is only archived for one year. Anything from five years ago would definitely be gone.” On the way back, Alex stared out the window, motionless. “At least we can confirm now that Kiera Vance really existed. All we can do now is wait.” I placed my hand on Alex’s, trying to comfort him. Seeing his low spirits, I changed the subject. “Alex, perhaps you could tell me about your father?”

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A month before the final exams, I casually posted an update celebrating my daughter-in-law’s pregnancy. Little did I know, the new intern teacher screenshot it and shared it in the parent group. The group instantly erupted, a boiling cauldron of outrage: “Only a month until final exams, is it appropriate for the homeroom teacher’s daughter-in-law to be pregnant right now?!” “This is the crucial sprint stage! Who will take responsibility if it delays our children?!” “Anyway, your daughter-in-law is still young. Just terminate the pregnancy now and plan for a baby after the exams!” I rubbed my eyes, unable to believe the words scrolling across the parent group chat. My daughter-in-law was pregnant – how did that suddenly become my responsibility as the homeroom teacher and mother-in-law? Seeing my refusal, the parents banded together, storming the school, even demanding that I relinquish my position to the new intern teacher. Their words, veiled in insinuation, painted me as too old, too burdened with personal affairs, unlike the young, pretty intern who was “up-to-date.” In a fit of rage, I immediately resigned, taking early retirement. Yet, after the final exams, why did my class’s acceptance rate to top universities become the lowest in the entire grade? 1 My son and his wife had been married for five years, trying to conceive for three. My daughter-in-law was finally pregnant. I instinctively posted an update on social media. The next second, Miss Hailey Grant, the new intern teacher, liked it, then screenshotted it and posted it in the class group chat: “Congratulations to Mrs. Vance on becoming a grandmother! After waiting so long, it’s finally happening. Mrs. Vance, you must shower your daughter-in-law with attention!” The usually quiet class group suddenly buzzed with notifications. A parent, whose contact was saved as “Kayla Johnson’s Mom,” tagged me: “Mrs. Vance, is that your daughter-in-law who’s pregnant on your social media?” I politely replied, “Yes,” and she immediately shot back: “Forgive my bluntness, but with only a month until the final exams, is it really appropriate for your daughter-in-law to be pregnant right now?” Kevin Chen’s mom chimed in: “The last month is crucial for the sprint. Who will take responsibility if it delays our children?” I quickly clarified: “Parents, I think there’s a misunderstanding. It’s my daughter-in-law who’s pregnant, not me. It won’t affect the students.” But the parents wouldn’t back down: “You can’t say that. With a pregnant daughter-in-law, a mother-in-law is bound to be preoccupied. Naturally, less energy will be dedicated to the students.” “A senior year homeroom teacher must be fully dedicated to the students’ needs. The final exams are a life-altering event!” Once the floodgates opened, other parents echoed the sentiment: “I agree with Kayla Johnson’s mom!” “A graduating class homeroom teacher should put in more effort than other teachers!” “I propose that Mrs. Vance’s daughter-in-law terminate the pregnancy!” I was shaking with anger—not only the immense physical harm of such a procedure, but these parents were overstepping their bounds! Kayla Johnson’s mom even started a poll in the group: “Vote ‘support’ if you back Mrs. Vance’s daughter-in-law terminating the pregnancy!” Soon, 45 parents responded, with 40 supporting the motion. I suppressed my fury and replied: “My daughter-in-law’s pregnancy is a private family matter, no need for your concern! The final exam sprint plan was set three months ago and will absolutely not be affected!” Kayla Johnson’s mom called me directly: “Mrs. Vance, don’t mind me interfering, but during the final exam sprint, everything must prioritize the students. You’ve been a teacher for over thirty years; you should understand this principle. While it’s still early, hurry to the hospital and terminate the pregnancy. You can always have another one after the exams.” I cut her off. “My daughter-in-law’s pregnancy is my private matter. You have no right to interfere.” With that, I hung up, wearily pinching the bridge of my nose. Since the start of senior year, I had worked tirelessly, practically living at school 24/7 except for sleep, sacrificing almost all my personal time for my students. Now, they were brazenly demanding my daughter-in-law terminate her pregnancy! I thought stating my position would end it, but two days later, another incident unfolded. 2 Early one Saturday morning, as I was accompanying my daughter-in-law for her prenatal check-up, my phone suddenly buzzed with continuous notifications. Juggling breakfast in one hand and her appointment slip in the other, I fumbled for my phone in my bag—Kayla Johnson’s mom had sent four or five more messages in the group: “Mrs. Vance, Kayla accidentally lost her comprehensive Chinese test paper from yesterday!” “Please snap a picture of the test so I can print a new copy for her to do!” “Tell me which questions Kayla got wrong so I can help her focus on reviewing them!” “Mrs. Vance, where are you?” “Please reply?” I was about to respond when our turn for registration came up. I shoved my phone back into my pocket, intending to reply after we were done. After registering, paying the fees, and settling my daughter-in-law into the examination room, I finally pulled out my phone to message Kayla Johnson’s mom. Kayla Johnson’s Mom, I’m sorry, I was just with my daughter-in-law for a check-up at the hospital, so I couldn’t reply immediately. The test papers are all at school. Please wait a moment; I’ll head to school to take pictures after her check-up is done. It was Saturday, a day off, so I thought this explanation would be understood. The next second, Kayla Johnson’s mom sent four consecutive voice messages into the group. “Mrs. Vance, yesterday I said your daughter-in-law’s pregnancy would distract you, and you insisted it wouldn’t!” “Today I asked you for a test paper, and it took you twenty minutes to get back to me!” “Do you know? In twenty minutes, Kayla could have finished an entire page of problems! If you’d given it to me sooner, wouldn’t Kayla be done by now?” Before I could even explain, Miss Hailey Grant suddenly replied in the group. “Kayla Johnson’s Mom, I’m the intern Chinese teacher for our class. I’ve already sent you the test paper privately.” “I apologize for the delay. It was mainly due to traffic on my way to school. Next time, I’ll definitely reply sooner.” “It’s Mrs. Vance’s first time becoming a grandmother, so she’s bound to be a little preoccupied. As parents, we should all try to understand.” Hailey was a fresh college graduate this year and also the principal’s niece. Our high school was a top-ranked public high school, generally not hiring teachers without any teaching experience. Hailey had just graduated this year and was admitted exceptionally due to her connection with the principal. Hailey’s words made me deeply uncomfortable. I had been teaching this class since freshman year. On weekdays, I always addressed any parent concerns or questions immediately. Since senior year began, I had sacrificed my personal time countless times to tutor weaker students. Take Kayla Johnson, for example: for three consecutive Saturdays, I went to her home to tutor her for free, all because I wanted every student to face the final exams in their best condition. Now, my daughter-in-law was pregnant, and it was wrong for me, as a mother-in-law, to accompany her for a check-up on my day off? Before I could explain in the group, Kayla Johnson’s mom sent another message. “Look at her, a fellow teacher, then look at yourself.” “Mrs. Vance, it’s a shame you’re even a homeroom teacher! If a homeroom teacher of a top class can’t prioritize students, then they don’t deserve the title.” Several other parents quickly echoed her: “Exactly, Mrs. Vance, you need to understand, teaching is your primary job. We entrusted our children to you because we trust you. Don’t betray our trust.” “No matter what, a teacher must always put students first.” “We’ll let it slide today, but we hope Mrs. Vance learns from Miss Grant in the future and doesn’t let her personal affairs interfere with students’ studies.” The parents who spoke were usually on good terms with me; I had even tutored their children for free at their homes on several occasions. I was stunned that they actually agreed with Kayla Johnson’s mom. Suppressing my tears, I replied sincerely in the group, aiming to de-escalate the situation: I’ve received your criticism. It won’t happen again. Later, during morning self-study, as I was leading the students in reading aloud, seven or eight parents, led by Kayla Johnson’s mom, stormed into the classroom. Kayla Johnson’s mom, her face stern and aggressive, confronted me directly. “Mrs. Vance, would you mind stepping out for a moment? We parents have something to discuss with you.” I asked the class president to maintain order, then followed the parents out of the classroom. The moment I stepped out, Kayla Johnson’s mom handed me a piece of paper. I took it, and it was a hospital appointment slip for a pregnancy termination. 3 Kayla Johnson’s mom spoke with an air of announcing a decision. “Mrs. Vance, given your performance yesterday, I and a few other parents in the class have discussed it and decided that your daughter-in-law should still terminate the pregnancy.” “This is the appointment notice for the procedure that I and the other parents booked.” “Take a look. If it’s alright, please take your daughter-in-law to the hospital for the surgery today.” Kevin Chen’s mom chimed in support. “Exactly, if the teacher isn’t taking action, we parents have to take matters into our own hands.” “If you have classes, a few of us parents can personally accompany your daughter-in-law to the hospital for the procedure.” I stared at the parents in disbelief. Each of their faces wore an expression of ‘we’re doing this for your own good.’ My hands trembled with rage, but I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice calm. “Yesterday was just an accident. I promise all of you that I will dedicate twelve-tenths of my energy to seeing the students through this last month.” Kayla Johnson’s mom scoffed. “The final exams are a life-changing event. As parents, we must eliminate all distractions.” “Everyone here is a woman, and we’ve all been pregnant and had children. Morning sickness, threatened miscarriage, these are common in early pregnancy. You’ll definitely be distracted caring for your daughter-in-law then.” “A person’s energy is limited. If you’re busy with family, you’ll naturally become lax with students.” “We can’t risk our children’s entire future on a gamble.” I felt dizzy with anger, my blood rising. Mrs. Davis, the Chinese teacher from the next class, quickly rushed out to support me. “Parents, please rest assured. Mrs. Vance has been a teacher for thirty-five years. Not only is she highly experienced, but she is also incredibly dedicated and responsible towards her students.” “Before, when Mrs. Vance’s husband was hospitalized, she didn’t take a single day off.” “Let alone her daughter-in-law’s pregnancy. With Mrs. Vance’s dedicated and responsible attitude, she absolutely will not delay the children’s progress.” The parents were about to say more when they were suddenly interrupted by a clear, sweet female voice. “Mrs. Vance, your daughter-in-law came looking for you. She said she’d like to eat your braised pork ribs and asked if you could cook them for her this afternoon.” 4 I turned my head to see Miss Hailey Grant slowly approaching, accompanied by my visibly pregnant daughter-in-law. Hailey’s words were like dropping boiling water into a pan of oil, instantly erupting into a furious sizzle. “Parents, look! Going home to cook braised pork ribs for her daughter-in-law on a weekday afternoon? Isn’t that inappropriate?” “How can someone like this be the homeroom teacher of a top-tier class?” “Today, either agree to terminate the pregnancy, or we replace the homeroom teacher. Mrs. Vance, you choose.” My daughter-in-law looked bewildered. “No, no, that’s not what I meant!” “Miss Grant, I meant I wanted to eat ribs tonight. I wanted my mother-in-law to buy some and cook them after school. I didn’t say for her to come back and cook them at noon!” My daughter-in-law was so flustered she could barely speak clearly. The loud commotion drew students from their morning study, their heads poking out of the classroom, eager to see what was happening. “Change homeroom teachers? Great! Are we getting Miss Grant?” “I always hated that old hag. She gives us so much homework every day, and punishes us with copying until our hands ache.” I couldn’t believe it. My students, whom I had painstakingly taught for three years, were calling me an “old hag” and saying they hated me. I dug my nails into my palms, my voice trembling with barely suppressed fury. “Terminating the pregnancy is out of the question. Changing homeroom teachers is even more impossible.” “If you parents have nothing else to do, please leave the school. Don’t disrupt the students’ classes.” Kayla Johnson’s mom snorted. “Mrs. Vance, you don’t want to change homeroom teachers, are you perhaps unwilling to part with the bonus for the top-tier class?” Kayla Johnson’s mom’s words hit me like a sledgehammer. Yes, there was a bonus for the top-tier class, but it was split among all the teachers involved, amounting to barely two hundred dollars per person. If I were after money, I would have long ago quit and become a teacher at an outside institution, earning several times more than I did now. I took a deep breath, trying to be pragmatic. “I’m not changing homeroom teachers because I’ve taught this class since freshman year. I know each student’s situation better and can provide more targeted assistance.” “Secondly, the final exams are coming soon. Even if there were a suitable teacher, changing teachers at such a critical juncture would definitely be detrimental to the students.” Kayla Johnson’s mom rolled her eyes, pulling Hailey Grant forward and pushing her towards me. “What do you mean ‘no’? I think Miss Grant is perfectly suitable!” “She’s single, young, and the kids like her more. Plus, she doesn’t have all these messy personal affairs.” Kayla Johnson’s mom’s words infuriated me, but also made me laugh grimly. “Miss Grant just graduated this year. Her teaching experience is completely insufficient. This class is a top-tier class at the school; the students in it are all promising candidates for Ivy League-level schools.” “How can an inexperienced novice teacher be the homeroom teacher for a top-tier class?” Kayla Johnson’s mom curled her lips, her eyes full of scorn. “Mrs. Vance, do you overestimate yourself? The students in the top-tier class are inherently gifted.” “To put it crudely, if you tied a dog to the podium, these kids would still ace their exams.” “Besides, Miss Grant graduated from a prestigious university. Her learning ability is far superior to an old hag like you.” I stood there, stunned, unable to believe such words came from Kayla Johnson’s mom’s mouth. This class wasn’t a top-tier class to begin with; it was I who enforced discipline, rectified the academic atmosphere, and gradually raised the class’s performance, bit by bit. Now, in the parents’ mouths, it had become a class where even a dog tied to the podium could teach effectively. The students watching the spectacle chimed in agreement. “Exactly! I think if we switched to Miss Grant, my Chinese scores would improve even more!” “That old hag is too rigid. All she makes us do is memorize texts and copy essays all day. What’s the point of that?” Then, the classroom erupted in a synchronized chant: “Change teachers! Change teachers!” Kayla Johnson’s mom looked at me triumphantly. “Mrs. Vance, see? The children all demand a change in homeroom teacher.” “However, given your hard work for the children for three years, we can apply to the principal. Miss Grant will be the homeroom teacher, and as for you, you can assist Miss Grant.” I raised my eyes to Kayla Johnson’s mom, my gaze sweeping over the students in the class. “The homeroom teacher cannot be changed. I absolutely will not agree.” Kayla Johnson’s mom and Kevin Chen’s mom exchanged glances. “Mrs. Vance, if you don’t want to change homeroom teachers, then you’re choosing the pregnancy termination, aren’t you?” “For the future of the 45 children in this class, we will be the villains for Mrs. Vance.” Before I could react, Kayla Johnson’s mom and Kevin Chen’s mom grabbed my daughter-in-law and headed for the stairwell. I quickly tried to rush forward to stop them, but the other parents held me back tightly. “Are you insane?! Are you really planning to forcibly drag her to terminate the pregnancy? Do you understand that’s illegal?!” Kayla Johnson’s mom completely ignored me, watching as my daughter-in-law was pulled to the stairwell. I exerted all my strength, breaking free from the parents’ restraint, and rushed towards my daughter-in-law. My daughter-in-law struggled fiercely. I tried to pry open the hands of the two parents. The four of us wrestled, and the scene became a chaotic scramble. I don’t know who pushed or perhaps stumbled. My daughter-in-law suddenly tumbled down the stairs, a crumpled heap. “Ah…!” A piercing scream echoed in the stairwell. Everyone collectively looked down. My daughter-in-law’s white dress was already stained crimson with blood. Kayla Johnson’s mom fell to the ground, her face pale. “So much blood… so much blood…”

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1 Three years after my death, my CEO husband, Julian Vance, served me with a lawsuit. His claim: the kidney I’d supposedly donated to his golden girl, Serena Bellwether, was defective. With no response from my end, he held a press conference, grandly transferring twenty percent of his company shares to Serena. Finally, his patience snapped, and he stormed back to our old hometown, determined to find me. A neighbor, startled, called out, “Lily? She hasn’t been back since her grandpa passed.” He hammered on the door of my childhood home. My younger sister, Maya, opened it. “Julian Vance? Don’t you know my sister’s been dead for two years?” The man, hands plunged into his pockets, sneered. “Lily Evans playing the disappearing act again? Trying to make me regret it? She dared to ram Serena’s car two years ago, I cut off her cards, and she still wants to throw a tantrum? If Serena’s kidney hadn’t acted up, I wouldn’t even think about forgiving her!” Maya’s brow furrowed. “She’s truly dead! And now you talk about forgiveness? What a joke!” Julian, however, spotted Buster, our old dog, wagging his tail inside. “Buster’s here. Where else could she be? Tell her I’m throwing her a bone. If she’s too stubborn, she can forget ever finding me again!” Buster suddenly limped forward, a frantic, yelping bark tearing from his throat, followed by a full-body spasm. Maya scrambled for the oxygen tank. My spirit reached out instinctively, only to pass straight through him—I was long gone from this world. Julian frowned, a ripple of disgust crossing his face. “Stupid dog! Want another kick?” Two years ago, he’d struck me for Serena’s sake. Buster, our loyal protector, had jumped to my defense and been kicked, leaving his right leg with a permanent nervous tremor. Maya’s voice cracked, raw with grief. “She’s dead! And if she were alive, she’d never see you! I’d make sure she stayed as far away from you as possible!” Julian’s sneer twisted into something uglier. “She hooked up with some wild man behind my back, didn’t she? Just as Serena said, she’s a loose woman!” My spirit felt as if it were being torn apart—I had been driven to my death by him and Serena, and even in death, I was subjected to this vile insult. “Don’t you dare spew such lies! Get out of our house!” Julian’s voice turned vicious. “Everything your family has, I gave you! Your brother’s wedding funds? I paid for them!” He wasn’t entirely wrong. He had extended a hand when my mother was gravely ill and my sister-in-law was pressured into an abortion. But he didn’t know the full truth: I’d been born with only one kidney. The doctor who performed my pre-surgical checks had been bribed by Serena. During the operation, I’d received only half the anesthetic dose. I was awake, enduring excruciating pain as my kidney was extracted and an artificial one implanted. Post-operative complications and infection claimed my life within two weeks. And all that time, he had been by Serena’s side. Maya’s voice broke. “Go to the hospital! Check the death certificate!” Julian scoffed. “The hospital said she was discharged, healthy and fine!” He hadn’t even bothered with a simple verification, choosing only to believe the lies. Just then, my older brother, Leo, arrived home from his construction job, his eyes blazing red. “Julian Vance! You have the audacity to show your face here! The money I borrowed from you? It’s all been paid back!” 2 Julian took a cigarette from his assistant, lighting it, the smoke blurring his features. Leo swatted the cigarette from his hand, his grimy fist clenching, knuckles cracking. “You have no idea how my sister died, do you? Where were you when she got infected after donating her kidney, when they were fighting to save her life? You were in Serena Bellwether’s hospital room, probably peeling her an apple!” “Nonsense!” Julian frowned. “Serena’s recovery was excellent after the surgery. It’s only recently she started showing rejection symptoms. Lily Evans hid her medical history when she donated her kidney, and now she wants to renege on her word?” He pulled out his phone, scrolling through a chat history. “Look, this is her pre-op conversation with the doctor. It clearly states she had two perfectly healthy kidneys!” Maya snatched the phone, slamming it to the ground. “That’s a forgery by Serena! She swapped the real medical report! Go check the anesthesia records from the surgery, the dosage wasn’t even enough!” Julian stared at the shattered screen, a flicker of memory crossing his face—after my surgery, he’d visited my hospital room and seen my face, ashen as paper, beads of cold sweat on my forehead. At the time, he’d dismissed it as me being dramatic. Now… now, he thought back. “Impossible,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Serena isn’t that kind of person…” Before the words fully left his lips, Buster suddenly broke free from Maya’s embrace, limping furiously towards Julian’s briefcase, tearing at it, biting like a mad dog. Maya cried out, pulling Buster away, but a yellowed slip of paper fluttered from a torn seam in the briefcase. It was a note I’d secretly slipped to a nurse before my surgery, scrawled in my own blood: “The doctor was bribed. Help me…” Julian’s pupils contracted sharply. At that very moment, his phone rang, the voice on the other end urgent, breathless: “Mr. Vance, Miss Bellwether… Miss Bellwether just passed away due to acute renal failure! The kidney inside her… it doesn’t seem to be the one donated by Ms. Evans!” The air in the room solidified, heavy and cold. I floated in mid-air, watching Julian stumble backward, knocking over the small charcoal brazier by the door. Flames licked at his pant leg, but he seemed oblivious, his eyes fixed on the blood-stained note on the floor. A low, guttural roar, like that of a cornered beast, rumbled in his throat. It became clear: Serena had found a matching kidney donor long before I “donated” mine. But to bind Julian to her forever, she’d orchestrated this elaborate scheme, making me the supposed donor, then secretly swapping my kidney for someone else’s. And I, with my single, vulnerable kidney, had rapidly succumbed after the forced surgery, becoming a tragic pawn in her twisted game. Now, the truth was laid bare in such a brutal, devastating way. But what could this belated realization ever salvage? Buster continued to bark hoarsely, flecks of blood staining his foam. My spirit grew increasingly transparent, my last gaze lingering on the old oak tree outside our home—the place where Julian and I had buried tokens of our love. Now, only desolation remained. “Leo Evans, your family bled me dry through Lily. Can you ever repay that?” A flicker of raw pain crossed Leo’s eyes. He lowered his head, muttering, “Yes, I burdened her. But you… you have no right to accuse me!” He took two steps, grabbing Julian by the collar. “When Lily married you, I was the first to object. She knelt outside our door for a day and a night, begging me and Dad to agree…” “And what was the result?! You broke her heart, and then you took her life! You should have lived happily ever after with your childhood sweetheart, not come here to disturb her resting spirit!” “Julian Vance! You’re a monstrous scumbag, worse than an animal!” Julian’s face darkened. He pressed the smoldering cigarette butt onto Leo’s clenched fist. The scent of burning flesh immediately filled the air. “Brother!” “It was just one kidney! I gave her ten million dollars! What kind of scumbag is that generous?” “She agreed to it herself, didn’t she? And now you blame me?” Leo roared, “Ten million?! The hundred thousand for the wedding and the five hundred thousand for Mom’s medical bills—I paid you back every cent! You’re slandering us!” “You took the money, but you won’t admit it? Is your whole family this disgusting?” Julian’s brows furrowed in annoyance. He immediately ordered his men to seize my family. “Release those vicious hounds! Teach them a lesson!” Panic seized me. I instinctively dropped to my knees, pleading, but I could only watch helplessly as dark-suited men stormed in, surrounding my family. Drooling, snarling dogs lunged. Leo shielded Maya, but Buster was savagely ripped apart, his body a bloody mess. “No! Stop! Stop it, all of you!” I screamed, my voice raw and desperate, but no one could hear me. Blood-stained tears streamed down my face. Only Buster, in his dying moments, looked at me with mournful eyes. My Buster, you saw me the moment Julian walked in! But I could only watch, helpless, as his breath faded. “This is just a small lesson,” Julian snarled. “In three days, Lily Evans better show up herself, or this dead dog will be your fate.” The door slammed shut, shaking the house. Years ago, because I had spoken out of turn to Serena, Julian had deliberately crippled my family’s factory, causing my father to fall critically ill. Now, he was perfectly capable of doing it again. For Serena, he would stop at nothing. For two years, because of that kidney, my spirit had been bound to Julian, a torment worse than any hell. Downstairs, Serena called him. The moment her name appeared on his screen, the rage on Julian’s face instantly melted away. “Hello, Serena. What is it?” My spirit, drawn by an inexplicable pull, was instantly tugged to Julian’s side. I watched him, his face alight with tenderness, as he spoke on the phone. “Oh, Julian, is Lily still hiding from us?” “It’s all my body’s fault, I’m so weak, I couldn’t even fight off the rejection, and I ruined the kidney Lily donated to me. She must be so reluctant to give me another one…” From the other end of the line, Serena’s feigned, overly sweet voice made me gag. “Silly girl, don’t say that. I’ll arrange for the best bio-artificial kidney for her. She won’t have a choice!” “The doctors said your body can only use a living organ. Lily Evans works out, she’s strong as an ox. She’s living perfectly fine with an artificial kidney!” Julian comforted Serena for half an hour before reluctantly hanging up. Just then, an assistant-like man knocked hurriedly and entered. “Mr. Vance, someone anonymously sent a death certificate…” Julian raised an eyebrow. “Whose?” “It’s… Ms. Evans’.” 3 Julian took it, casually at first. My name, “Lily Evans,” was clearly printed on it. He scoffed. “Lily Evans, you really are something. You even forged a death certificate to hide from me. Do you think that’s going to work?” The assistant hesitated. “Mr. Vance, the death certificate isn’t a fake. I verified it, and the police station confirmed…” “Enough!” Julian interrupted impatiently. “This is clearly just one of Lily Evans’s little tricks, trying to make me feel remorse. She’s dreaming!” “Go find her. No matter what corner she’s hiding in, dig up the earth if you have to, just bring her to me!” The assistant sighed, nodding quickly. “Yes, Mr. Vance!” A week passed. The assistant returned, his expression peculiar as he delivered his report. “Mr. Vance, the private investigators confirmed Ms. Evans has indeed passed away. Her body was cremated at the City Memorial Mortuary, and her ashes were personally signed for by Leo Evans. There’s no mistake.” Julian frowned. “Bullshit! Lily Evans values her life too much, how could she just die? She even went to a remote spiritual sanctuary high in the Rockies, seeking alternative remedies just to stay alive!” I gave a bitter smile. He didn’t know. I went to the Rockies to find a cure for him. That year, Julian had contracted malaria during a business trip to Africa. No matter what medication he took, his fever wouldn’t break. I heard there was an ancient remedy in the mountains that could cure malaria. I trekked through harsh terrain, enduring high altitudes that left me near collapse from oxygen deprivation. Finally, at an ancient monastery high in the Rockies, I found the formula. I don’t know if the remedy truly worked, or if my sincerity moved the heavens, but after Julian took the medicine, his fever actually broke. How ironic that he believed I had sought that cure for myself. The assistant looked troubled. “But Mr. Vance, I hired two different private detective agencies, and their findings… are identical. Ms. Evans might really be…” Julian slammed his hand on the table, his voice rising in anger. “Nonsense! I’ve known her my entire life! She’s not the kind of person who gives up until she gets what she wants. Why would she ever give up and die? She’s determined to cling to me forever.” “Maybe she knew about her kidney problem all along, and she’s just faking her death to avoid me. She’s probably living it up somewhere right now!” The assistant was stunned into silence. “But Mr. Vance, that’s too dramatic!” Julian laughed mockingly. “She was the star of her university drama club. Faking her death? That’s her specialty!” The assistant was left completely speechless. “So, Mr. Vance, should I continue the investigation?” Julian lit a cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke. “Yes, keep digging. Find out which mortuary cremated her, and which cemetery her ashes were buried in. I want to see if Lily Evans truly arranged everything flawlessly!” I stood behind him, watching the man I’d loved for seven years, my heart chilling to its core. My spirit felt even more translucent. Another week passed. The assistant returned, his face unusually grim. He placed a file on Julian’s desk. “I found that Ms. Evans was cremated at the City Memorial Mortuary. The cremation date was two years ago.” “And her ashes were interred at Greenhaven Cemetery, in the suburbs, section C, row six, plot eight.” “The cemetery staff confirmed that her brother and sister visit every year to pay their respects.” Julian’s expression turned cold, his thin lips parting. “Well, well. Quite thorough arrangements, aren’t they?” “It seems, Lily Evans, you’re truly determined to hide from me!” He abruptly stood, striding purposefully towards the door. “Let’s go! To Greenhaven Cemetery!” The assistant hurried to follow him. An hour later, the car pulled up to the gates of Greenhaven Cemetery, on the outskirts of the city. Julian stepped out into the light drizzle. The assistant quickly opened a black umbrella for him. At section C, row six, plot eight. The gravestone was still new, the inscription clear and stark: [Lily Evans, Beloved Daughter of the Evans Family] On the small black-and-white photo, my younger self smiled faintly, from a time when my eyes were bright with youthful hope.

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After Julian gave me the silent treatment for the ninety-ninth time, I finally saw him reach out. He sent a message, a peace offering, inviting me to witness a surprise tonight. My mind immediately conjured the joy that had lately been etched on his face, and the diamond ring I’d glimpsed beneath his pillow. Instinctively, I thought he was finally going to propose. I dressed meticulously and went to the appointed place. But when I pushed open the door, I saw his childhood sweetheart, Chloe, clinking glasses with him, their arms entwined in a classic toast. A giant screen behind them blazed with the words: “Welcome Home, My Princess Chloe.” Julian had told me that Chloe, in a drunken stupor, had given herself to him, and the emotional toll had left her with a delicate heart. And I, a “used woman,” dared to dream of surprises. Since he was so obsessed with “firsts,” then let him experience losing everything for the very first time. 1 Amidst the cheering crowd, Julian and Chloe drank from intertwined glasses, his face alight with a sweetness I’d never seen directed at me. Dressed like a princess myself, I instantly felt like an awkward clown, rooted to the spot, unable to advance or retreat. Chloe spotted me, stamping her foot with a childish pout. “Aurora, are you deliberately trying to ruin my welcome-home party?” So Julian’s big surprise was her return. “What are you doing here? You’re such a buzzkill.” “Chloe, ignore her. I probably sent the group message to everyone. Look, do you like this gift?” Julian knelt on one knee, pulling a small box from his jacket with an air of profound reverence. It was the ring I’d seen. The next second, he slipped it onto Chloe’s left ring finger. Everything before my eyes was an exact replica of the proposal scene I’d dreamed of. I had waited five years, hinting to Julian countless times. But on the very last day of our fifth anniversary, I watched, heartbroken, as Julian placed the ring on another woman’s hand. Julian’s friends came over, playfully teasing him. He just scowled. “Having a girlfriend who’s always spying on my schedule, I’ve had the worst luck imaginable.” Under the mocking stares of the crowd, I made a clumsy exit. Chloe triumphantly smashed her empty glass at my feet, the shards instantly embedding themselves in my calf. It was our fifth anniversary, after all. I thought Julian would surely chase after me, to explain, to apologize. But he didn’t. He only sent me a text message. “Aurora, don’t make a scene here. You’re embarrassing me.” “Chloe is back, and I just want her to be happy. She’s not like you; she gave her first time to me. I can’t be responsible for her, but I should definitely compensate her more.” Before Julian, I’d had a previous relationship, something he had constantly held against me. Even though I’d poured my everything into him, caring for him meticulously, none of it measured up to that single, fleeting moment Chloe had given him. Even if that “first time” was a drunken accident. But Chloe’s heart had been “unwell” ever since that incident, so Julian’s “compensation” to her was endless. Above that message in my phone, a text from my adoptive mother brought a bittersweet ache. “Seeing my darling daughter settled brings peace to my heart. Mom has fulfilled her mission. Don’t worry, darling, Mom will hold on with her last breath to attend your wedding.” I had grown up in an orphanage, only experiencing the warmth of family after my adoptive mother took me in. But she was gravely ill, with little time left. My future, my finding a partner, was her only remaining concern in this world. So, when I thought Julian was going to propose, I had eagerly shared the good news with her, hoping to ease her mind. But now… I looked at the cuts on my calf, the pain too deep for words. I had intended to ask Julian if he’d forgotten that today marked our five-year anniversary. But now, it was pointless. That ring I’d waited five years for? I didn’t want it anymore. And him? I didn’t want him either. 2 By the time Julian returned home, the living room clock had chimed midnight. Our five-year anniversary was over. He woke me, handing me a drink. “Alright, stop pretending to sleep. I know you’re wide awake.” “This is from Chloe. See how generous she is? When will you be as considerate as her?” I forced my eyes open, wincing at the harsh light, and glanced at the drink. It was a Mango Sago dessert. But he seemed to have forgotten again: I’m allergic to mangoes. This very cold war had started because one of his friends at dinner had insisted I eat mango, and Julian, instead of stopping them, had told me not to be rude. I was angry he didn’t care about me; he was angry I was being difficult. I took a deep breath, suppressing the bitter taste of injustice. “My mom is getting worse. She wants to see you one last time. She asked if you’re free tomorrow afternoon.” I hadn’t dared tell my adoptive mother the truth; I feared she couldn’t bear it. Likewise, I still wanted to give Julian one last chance, for the sake of our five years together and for my adoptive mother. Julian instinctively blurted out, “I’m busy. I have to be with…” Before he finished, he suddenly seemed to remember something, a hint of guilt in his voice. “Got it. I’ll make time tomorrow.” “And, Aurora, you don’t need to be so paranoid. I don’t even care that you’re not a virgin, so there’s no need for you to be hostile towards Chloe.” “You know, I accidentally touched her when I was drunk back then.” I didn’t want to speak. I just raised my hand and turned off the bedroom light. The bedroom ceiling was a custom-made star-field ceiling Julian had installed. Every time Julian gave me the silent treatment after an argument, I’d add a diamond to the star field. Five years, and I’d added too many. The ceiling was so bright now, it made it hard to sleep. As I was drifting off, Julian received a call and rushed out. I didn’t question it. I just sent him a text the next morning, reminding him not to forget about the hospital visit. My adoptive mother was in her final rally, her frail hand trembling as she pulled out the shares she’d left for me. “These funds should rightfully be yours, dear, but Julian’s career is on the rise. This is all Mom can do to help him. As long as he treats you well in the future…” I found it hard to believe. The shares my adoptive mother had guarded her entire life, she now wanted to transfer entirely to Julian, simply so he would treat me well. My adoptive mother held my hand, reluctant to let go, giving me countless instructions. She said she wanted to personally arrange some things with Julian. But she waited until nightfall, until her eyes finally closed for good, and Julian never came. I handled her funeral arrangements alone. Finally, Julian called. “Something urgent came up at the company. I’ll personally cook for you tomorrow as an apology.” Before I could speak, I heard a sweet, syrupy voice in the background. “Julian, I’m thirsty! I want that one.” The call was abruptly disconnected. I pondered for a moment, then proactively messaged my adoptive mother’s business partner. “I want to take over Mom’s projects.” 3 My adoptive mother had always wanted me to have my own career after she was gone, so she had arranged a path for me to go abroad. Before, I hesitated because I couldn’t let go of her and Julian. Now… I had no ties left. When Julian came home, I was packing my luggage. He didn’t notice anything amiss. He casually handed me a handmade ceramic piece. “A gift for you.” I remembered the social media post Chloe had made, showing her smiling radiantly at some exquisite handmade ceramics. The caption read, “He made it himself. So much better than my clumsy attempts.” So I recognized it immediately: what Julian gave me was just one of Chloe’s botched “clumsy attempts.” “You don’t like it?” Julian scoffed. “Chloe is innocent and not a gold-digger. Women your age, having experienced the world, naturally care more about money.” Julian emphasized the phrase “experienced the world,” a thinly veiled jab at my past relationship, implying I hadn’t remained “pure” for him. “You can’t find fault with this gift, can you?” Julian said, taking out a jewelry box. It was from my favorite brand. Not long ago, I’d casually complained to Julian that I really liked a necklace from their collection, but it was a limited edition, hard to find anywhere in the country. My heart lurched. To say I wasn’t expectant would be a lie. I cautiously opened the jewelry box, before I could even see what was inside. “Oh, does Sister Aurora like these girlish things too?” It was Chloe. She had come back with Julian. I couldn’t bear it anymore. I turned to her. “Didn’t you say your heart was delicate after that incident? What? Now that you’re a mistress, your heart feels fine?” My words had barely left my lips when Julian slapped me hard across the face. Julian’s hateful glare sent shivers down my spine. Combined with the searing pain in my head, the world spun, and I nearly blacked out. 4 When I came to, Julian seemed to regret it. He wanted to approach me, but after a moment’s hesitation, he still turned to comfort Chloe. “I’m fine, Julian. Thank you for the necklace, it’s beautiful.” “Why didn’t you go home?” Chloe’s clear laughter echoed through the living room. “Hmph, because she deliberately ruined my welcome-home party.” After Julian had comforted Chloe, he took her home. When he returned, I was curled up on the sofa, sweating and crying. The familiar pain brought back a flood of memories. My face was ashen, my forehead beaded with sweat, and my entire body trembled. “Aurora? Are you okay? I… I didn’t mean to just now. Chloe is young, don’t hold it against her.” Seeing my lack of response, Julian, fearing something serious, drove me to the hospital. Those icy memories and the feeling of profound loss clung to me, refusing to dissipate. I trembled in the passenger seat, feeling as if I might suffocate at any moment. Julian’s eyes finally showed a flicker of concern, his voice softening. “I’m sorry, Aurora. I was impulsive. Just hold on a little longer. We’ll be at the hospital soon.” Julian’s low voice, tinged with tenderness, slowly pulled me back from the brink of overwhelming fear. Just as I was about to calm down, Julian suddenly slammed on the brakes. 5 My forehead hit the ornament on the dashboard, the one designated “Princess Chloe’s Special Seat.” Julian looked at the message on his phone, his brows furrowed tightly, his gaze at me filled with internal conflict. “You can take a taxi to the hospital yourself. Chloe’s heart is bothering her again.” Seeing me sitting unresponsive in the passenger seat, Julian pushed me out of the car without another word. “You’re a grown woman; you’ll be fine. I’ll come to the hospital to see you. If anything happens to Chloe, I’d be the one to blame.” The car sped away, leaving me standing on the deserted street, a little lost. The familiar darkness and past terrors made me shiver, I didn’t dare wait for a taxi there. Dragging my injured calf, I ran wildly until I saw people, then finally relaxed. In that moment, the tightly stretched string inside me snapped. I stood on the busy street, sobbing uncontrollably. I was angry that Julian had abandoned me halfway, angry that he indulged Chloe’s insults, angry that he didn’t buy the spacious apartment I wanted, but instead, to fulfill Chloe’s wish, changed our wedding home to a suburban villa. I was angry that between me and Chloe, he chose Chloe again and again… Five years. I had accumulated far too much resentment. After I cried, I took a taxi to the hospital for a full check-up. My head was fine, but I was severely traumatized. The doctor gave me medication to relieve stress. I took a photo of the prescription and sent it to my adoptive mother’s business partner, postponing my trip abroad. I also promised him that I would handle everything before my injuries healed, and it wouldn’t delay my work. His reply came quickly: “Don’t burden yourself too much. You are excellent. Rest well and take care of yourself.” This was the only concern and affirmation I had received in a long time. I sent Julian a breakup text. I took a taxi back to pack my luggage, preparing to leave this place that used to be our home. To my surprise, Julian was home, and he had cooked a table full of dishes. He smiled at me, his gaze lingering on the medicine in my hand for a moment before quickly moving away. “Aurora, I promised I’d cook for you to apologize. Don’t be mad anymore. Let’s go pick up Mom and have dinner.” I walked straight to the bedroom, pulled out my suitcase, and looked at him, my eyes red. “But my mom… she’s gone.” Julian froze.

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1 My younger sister, Daisy, came home with her boyfriend every day, yet she never used any form of contraception. When I finally asked why, she calmly explained she was using the “side door.” I warned her that area was delicate, that repeated use could lead to infections and other problems. I told her that in this day and age, people were more open-minded, and a man who truly loved her wouldn’t care if she was a “pure” maiden or not. Daisy took my advice to heart. Later, after she broke up with her boyfriend, our mother set her up with a wealthy heir. On their wedding night, because Daisy didn’t bleed, the groom erupted in a furious rage. The incident spread like wildfire, becoming the talk of the town the very next day. Daisy was publicly humiliated, and she blamed it all on me. Her face contorted into a hideous mask of fury as she forced my head into a pot of scalding boiling water. “It’s all your fault!” she shrieked, her voice thick with venom. “If I had remained a virgin, I could have been a socialite, and no one would be laughing at me!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Daisy told me she never used contraception. … “Sis, don’t worry. I won’t get pregnant. Every time I’m with Leo, I use the side door.” My sister said, wiggling her hips suggestively. Looking at her face, I felt a shudder of revulsion. The suffocating sensation of boiling water filling my airways, that horrifying memory from my past life, washed over me. It took immense effort to compose myself. “Wow,” I managed, my voice strained. “You’re so clever.” Daisy continued, eager to share her wisdom. “Sis, I’m telling you, that spot can give a guy just as much pleasure. Don’t listen to Mom. It’s the twenty-first century. Living in the moment is what matters.” “It’s because of your old-fashioned thinking that you can’t keep a boyfriend.” I smiled faintly. Daisy’s smugness stemmed from the fact that her current boyfriend, Leo, was my ex. We’d dated for two years, but he’d broken up with me because I refused to have premarital sex. Less than three days after our breakup, Leo and my sister went public with their relationship. It was only when I went to Leo’s apartment to collect my belongings that I discovered they’d been secretly involved for a while. Daisy visited Leo’s rental unit every day, and their raucous antics echoed from the third floor all the way up to the fifth. All the neighbors knew. When I first learned this, my initial reaction wasn’t anger, but a chilling realization: if Mom found out, Daisy would be completely ruined. Our father passed away early, leaving Mom to raise Daisy and me alone. Mom was a professional matchmaker, with an impressive network of eligible bachelors from high society. Having dealt with these affluent families for so long, Mom understood their strict requirements for a potential spouse. A key one being: “cleanliness.” So, from a young age, Mom hammered one rule into Daisy and me: dating was fine, but premarital sex was absolutely forbidden. Mom would constantly repeat, her voice earnest: “Marriage is your second chance at life. These men might say they don’t care, but deep down, they all want a pure maiden. You two must guard your boundaries, or don’t blame me for disowning you.” On the way home from Leo’s place, I kept thinking about helping Daisy confess to Mom. To my surprise, when I told Daisy this, she calmly informed me she was still a “pure maiden,” because she hadn’t used the conventional route. I stared for a few seconds, letting her words sink in. Then, my concern shifted to her health. As someone with basic medical knowledge, I knew how delicate the “side door” was. It was merely an excretory opening, with muscles around the sphincter that controlled its tightness. It wasn’t meant to be open for long, let alone violently forced open repeatedly. Such abuse would surely damage the muscles and lead to a host of complications. I immediately explained all this to Daisy, telling her, “A man who truly loves you wouldn’t make you suffer like this, nor would he care about that ‘layer.’ If you enjoy that kind of intimacy, use the normal way to experience pleasure. And if someone truly cares about it, we can always get a repair surgery.” Daisy’s eyes lit up at the mention of surgery, and she subsequently changed her habit of using the “side door.” I never imagined that after she broke up with Leo, Mom would set her up with a rich heir. Despite the repair surgery, she still didn’t bleed on her wedding night. After the divorce, she blamed me for everything. Recalling this, I still offered a kind warning. “But constantly using the side door will cause injuries, and it’s prone to infection.” Daisy blinked, a mischievous smile on her face. “As long as you’re careful, it won’t. And besides, Sis, I think I was born with a natural charm. That area can also produce… fluids.” That last part sounded exactly like something Leo would have told her to string her along. Normally, that area doesn’t secrete anything. If it did, it meant only one thing: she was infected. This realization brought a surge of grim satisfaction. I feigned envy. “Is that why Leo likes you so much?” At the same time, I used a burner account to send a bunch of “toys” to Leo’s account. 【Handsome, need some little tools? Free shipping to your door!】 Daisy had always loved stealing my things. When she heard a hint of longing in my voice, she immediately became defensive. “Of course! But you probably don’t have this kind of… constitution, Sis. Now that Leo has had a taste of me, he won’t be interested in you. You should give up on him.” I lowered my head, feigning disappointment. Meanwhile, Leo’s phone buzzed with an incoming message. I quickly recommended several “aggressive” toys. Leo picked a few, sent the money, and I promptly placed an order from a local adult store. As I finished replying, Daisy’s phone vibrated. She picked it up, glanced at it, and her face flushed crimson. A moment later, she stood up, grabbed her bag, and headed for the door. “Sis, I have to go out. Remember to keep this from Mom.” Daisy didn’t return that night. When she came back the next day, she could barely walk straight. For the next few days, Leo ordered new “toys” from me daily. The items grew increasingly… extreme, and Daisy’s gait became more and more peculiar. I knew if this continued, Daisy’s body wouldn’t be able to handle it much longer. And the day came sooner than I expected. One Saturday, Daisy clutched my arm, her voice a whispered plea. “Sis, I think… I think it’s torn.” I forced myself to remain calm. “Where?” “Just… there.” She pulled down her pants. “Can you take a look for me? A lot of blood just came out, and it hurts so much.” I grimaced, suppressing a wave of nausea, and saw that the area was indeed not normal. “Sis,” she asked, her voice trembling, “do you think I should go to the hospital? Every time I sneeze these days, I… leak.” That nearly made me vomit. “The hospital?” I frowned. “Do you want Mom to find out you’ve been using the side door?” Mom was very strict about our private lives, and with Daisy staying out lately, she was already suspicious. Daisy’s face fell. “Then what do I do?” I rubbed my hands together. “It doesn’t look too serious. Let’s just go to a small clinic and get some medicine.” Daisy was too embarrassed to go to a proper clinic. In the end, she bought some random ointments online and applied them to the area. Once the medication took effect, Daisy resumed her nightly escapades. But it was clear that the muscles in her “side door” had loosened. She always carried a faint, unsettling odor. Counting the days, I knew it was time. Mom had finally found a suitable rich heir, and the moment she walked in, she was buzzing with excitement, urging Daisy to meet him. “Mr. Chen is truly one in a million, Lily! Worth hundreds of millions, educated abroad, and most importantly, his private life is impeccably clean!” Mom clapped Daisy on the thigh, beaming. “The best part is, he has almost no requirements for his partner, except for one: she must be pure. Daisy, your good fortune has arrived!” Mom was so incredibly excited, but Daisy remained indifferent. “Mom,” she said, flatly, “I don’t want to.” Mom and I both froze. In my past life, Daisy had agreed without a moment’s hesitation. Why was she refusing so quickly now? Mom quickly asked, “Why? Daisy, getting married is like a second chance at life. Don’t you always complain that I haven’t given you good opportunities? This time, I’ve found you an excellent family.” Daisy threw up her hands. “I have a boyfriend.” “Break up with him then,” Mom frowned. “Daisy, you didn’t go and sleep with that boy, did you? You didn’t listen to your mother?” Daisy’s face paled. “Of course not, Mom. I just… don’t want to get married right now. Why don’t you let my sister go on the blind date?” Hearing this, Mom shot me a disgusted glance. “Do you think she’s suitable?” Mom’s hurtful words pierced me like needles. My heart ached. Without a husband, Mom feared gossip, so she was incredibly strict with both me and Daisy. But her strictness was applied very differently. She treated me like a prisoner, while Daisy was her precious child. If I didn’t do my homework, she’d rip up all my textbooks and throw them in the trash, leaving me to face the ridicule of teachers and classmates the next day. If Daisy didn’t do hers, Mom would just scold her softly. If I broke a bowl, she’d make me kneel all night in the freezing cold. If Daisy broke one, she’d just tap her palms twice. I always suspected I wasn’t her biological daughter, even getting a DNA test done when I was an adult. But the results confirmed it: I was indeed her daughter. In my past life, after Daisy pushed me into the scalding water, I was still clinging to life. Mom rushed in, but didn’t even spare me a glance. Instead, she worried if Daisy’s hands were scalded. With my last ounce of strength, I asked her why she played favorites. She gave me a look of pure disgust. “How am I playing favorites? You’re just petty, that’s why you think I’m biased. Daisy never says I’m biased.” But I knew the real reason: Daisy was prettier than me. Mom always said that in this era, beauty was a resource. She firmly believed Daisy could marry into wealth and uplift our family, so she gambled everything on Daisy’s marriage prospects. Despite Mom’s immense reluctance, she didn’t force Daisy to go on the blind date. Unwilling to let such a good opportunity slip through our fingers, she arranged for me to meet Mr. Michael Chen instead. All the way there, she lectured me. “Don’t you dare mention any of your past relationships to Mr. Chen. You’re already not good-looking enough, so if you talk about your past flings, he’ll definitely not be interested.” Sometimes, I wondered if Mom was blind. Daisy stayed out all night, and Mom still believed she was a good girl. I came home on time every day, checked in with her before leaving, yet she still thought I was wild and loose. Thankfully, Michael Chen didn’t seem to care about my appearance. In my previous life, because of his involvement with Daisy, I’d had a poor impression of him. But this time, after talking, I realized he was genuinely a good person. Polite, well-read, and insightful. Just as Mom had said, his only requirement for a partner was personal integrity. This standard, however, stemmed from his own aristocratic background. He was so well-off, and so many women threw themselves at him, yet he remained a virgin. His high standards for himself made his requirement for a partner seem perfectly reasonable. We hit it off. We went on several dates, and our connection grew genuinely. After our last date, a thought even crossed my mind: perhaps my rebirth wasn’t for revenge, but to correct the past, to let me marry Michael Chen. For a moment, marrying Michael Chen seemed like a wonderful idea. But I hadn’t anticipated that after Michael agreed to our engagement, Daisy would break up with Leo. That night, after returning home, she saw Michael. Later that evening, she called Mom into her room. The next morning, Mom told me, “You need to break up with Michael Chen. Your sister wants to be with him.” Her words hit me like a physical blow. I froze for a few seconds. “Isn’t Daisy sick in the head, always stealing other people’s boyfriends? She wanted that trash Leo, and she took him. But now Michael and I are about to get engaged, why does she want to steal him too? Is she addicted to being a mistress?” The words had barely left my mouth when Mom’s hand connected with my cheek, a stinging slap. “Daisy is your sister! How can you say such horrible things? Michael Chen was originally for Daisy! You were the mistress, stealing what was hers!” The slap burned, but it also extinguished the last flicker of love I had for my mother. My patience snapped. “Even so, Michael Chen is my boyfriend now! If she’s so great, let her make him fall for her!” After yelling that, I couldn’t bear to stay in the house. I grabbed my bag and ran out. I knew that if Daisy wanted Michael, Mom would make it happen. But I had faith in Michael. He wasn’t like Leo. I spent the whole day outside, the events of today and my past life replaying like a broken record in my mind. Both then and now, I felt an overwhelming sense of injustice. I thought, after I got engaged to Michael, I would move out. But I hadn’t expected that just a few hours later, before I even made it home, Michael Chen would call. “Vivian,” he said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion, “let’s break up.” My voice trembled with pain. “Why? Is it because of my sister?” A long silence stretched between us. Then Michael spoke, his honesty brutal. “Vivian, you’re a smart woman. You know, people like me, from high society, need a beautiful woman to uphold our reputation. You and your sister have identical family backgrounds. I naturally have to choose the superior one.” “I’m sorry. I’ll offer you some compensation. Just please, don’t try to cling to me. In the future, when we meet, let’s be friends.” Friends? What a load of crap. I hung up, then smashed my phone to pieces. I took a few shaky breaths, but the tears wouldn’t be held back. They poured down my face, a hot, cleansing torrent. I took out my now-smashed phone, preparing to delete all the photos I’d taken with Michael Chen. As I scrolled through a few, my eyes widened. Minutes later, all my anger and resentment melted away, replaced by a strange sense of relief, as I stared at the photo album.

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The annual Royal Selection, held in King’s Landing, sought a suitable bride for Prince Edmund, the King’s heir. In my last life, it was I who claimed victory. Prince Edmund wed me as his Princess Consort. Lady Seraphina, the woman he loved, fell gravely ill, fading away in sorrow. After he ascended the throne, he never crowned me Queen. Instead, a solemn effigy of Seraphina graced the throne. He made me kneel before it for three days and three nights. “Had you not deliberately damaged Seraphina’s lute strings, she would have triumphed. It was your meddling that kept us apart.” “This crown, this throne, was meant for her.” He condemned my father, the Duke of Ravenshield, seizing our lands and condemning him to the gallows, all to quell his Kingly rage. My mother, consumed by grief, beat her head against his coffin until her spirit departed. The House of Blackwood was undone. But in this life, during the Royal Selection, I deliberately injured my wrist, withdrawing from the contest. If Prince Edmund desired a life bound solely to Lady Seraphina, I would grant them their wish. 1 “The victor of the Royal Selection is: Lady Seraphina, daughter of the Lord Chamberlain!” The Grand Adjudicator’s voice boomed across the Great Hall. A murmur rippled through the gathered nobility. “Can you believe it? She won!” “I heard Lady Eleanor Blackwood twisted her wrist. Lady Seraphina was truly blessed by fortune.” “Didn’t the King and Queen favor Lady Eleanor as Prince Edmund’s Princess Consort?” “But it was declared that the victor would be the Princess Consort. Prince Edmund himself set the terms.” Prince Edmund, a radiant smile gracing his features, eagerly grasped Lady Seraphina’s hand and stepped forward. “Father, Mother, this is the consort your son has chosen.” His eyes held an undiluted tenderness, while Seraphina’s cheeks flushed a vibrant crimson, as if about to bleed. Yet, her hand remained clasped tightly in his, never faltering. All eyes turned to me, my wrist still swathed in bandages. A mixture of pity and veiled amusement danced in their gazes, anticipating a spectacle. Even the Queen Consort eyed me, her lips parting as if to speak, then closing. It was widely known that she had intended for me to be the Prince Consort, having even discreetly approached my father, the Duke of Ravenshield, to prevent him from betrothing me elsewhere. Now, a sudden turn of events. The Queen hesitated, then addressed Prince Edmund: “Do you harbor affection for any other lady? Your father is in good spirits today; perhaps, if you speak her name, he might consent to a dual union.” Her gaze flickered to me, a subtle hint that if he spoke my name, the King might command him to take two consorts. But the Queen was mistaken. For I, Lady Eleanor, harbored no desire to wed Prince Edmund again. In my last life, Prince Edmund accused me of breaking Seraphina’s lute strings, ruining her chance at triumph. Yet, such a petty act was beneath me. Had he possessed even a sliver of clarity, had he truly considered my character, he would have known I was incapable of such malice. But his heart had already been seized by the sight of a tearful Seraphina. She had wrenched her hand from his, weeping, “I know Lady Eleanor despises me, but I only wanted a fair chance to win your affection. Why would she deny me even that? Is it simply because her father is the powerful Duke of Ravenshield?” Her words, a poisoned seed, laid the groundwork for my father’s downfall after Edmund’s coronation. Later, I discovered the truth: the ancient melody I had performed during that fateful competition, a lost ballad, had mesmerized even the Maestros of the Royal Conservatory. My performance had caused the Royal Gardens to burst into unnatural bloom, a sign of true artistic mastery. Seraphina, seeing her defeat imminent, had deliberately snapped her own lute strings, feigning a tragic accident to ensure her loss. 2 This life, I would offer her no such opportunity. I chose to feign an accidental injury to my wrist at the Vernal Ball the night before, rendering me unable to compete. Anything to avoid falling into her snare again. If they wished to be bound to one another, I would grant them their singular devotion. I would ensure I remained far, far away. Upon hearing the Queen’s question, Prince Edmund declared with a booming voice, “Mother, Seraphina is the only woman I have ever loved. Now that she has claimed victory, I humbly ask that you seal her as my true Princess Consort.” “My heart’s desire is to be bound to Seraphina alone, for all time.” The Queen sighed, a weary breath escaping her lips. “I have no objection to you naming her your Princess Consort. However, you are my trueborn son and your father’s heir. You cannot have but one consort. You must ensure the succession, provide a thriving line for the Crown. Do you understand?” She looked pointedly at Seraphina, whose eyes remained fixed solely on Prince Edmund. Love, perhaps, grants boundless courage. Seraphina stepped forward, her voice trembling slightly, yet resolute. “Your Majesty, once Prince Edmund and I are wed, I shall strive with all my might to bear many children for the Crown. But Prince Edmund has sworn he will never take another woman.” “Every woman yearns for a singular bond with the man she loves, a life bound to one another alone. Surely, Your Majesty, you yourself cherish such a dream? I humbly implore you, do not grant any other noblewoman as a secondary consort to Prince Edmund.” Silence descended upon the hall, then erupted into a cacophony of varied expressions among the assembled nobles. The faces of several high noblewomen, whose daughters had hoped to become secondary consorts, turned as dark as storm clouds. “Lady Seraphina is bold indeed! Not yet Princess Consort, and already dictating who Prince Edmund may or may not take as a secondary consort!” “Which prince takes but one wife? Especially the King and Queen’s trueborn heir! What is she thinking? Does she wish the Prince to have a meager line?” “Any lady who weds into Prince Edmund’s household now will surely face a harsh future.” “It seems Lady Seraphina intends to monopolize the Prince’s affections entirely.” Prince Edmund, hearing Seraphina’s plea, knew it was ill-advised, yet his protective instinct prevailed. “Please, Mother, grant us this wish.” The Queen closed her eyes for a moment, then waved her hand dismissively. “You may all depart. A royal edict concerning the betrothal will be issued in three days.” All the courtiers filed out, a river of silk and velvet. I had not yet reached the palace gates when a voice called out, “Lady Eleanor!” It was Seraphina. Behind her, a lady-in-waiting carried a tray laden with jewels Prince Edmund had bestowed upon her. Seraphina smiled, approaching me. “My apologies, Lady Eleanor. I never imagined you wouldn’t compete today. I truly thought you would win.” I offered a faint smile. “My congratulations, Lady Seraphina. May your heart’s desire be fulfilled.” Her eyes welled up, glistening. “Will you resent me? I know the Queen favored you. But I love Prince Edmund so deeply, and he promised to wed me. For him, I had to set aside our friendship. Please, don’t hold it against me.” “This pomegranate brooch, Prince Edmund gave it to me. I wish to gift it to you, a token of our sisterly bond. May you soon find a worthy lord and bear many children.” I took the trinket. Before I could speak, a man’s hand snatched the brooch from my grasp. “That was my gift to you! Why would you give it away? It was a blessing for us to have many children after our wedding. How can you be so careless with my intentions?” Seraphina gazed at Prince Edmund, her expression coy and charming. “Your Grace, my sister is distraught at not being chosen. I merely wished to comfort her. You needn’t be so illiberal.” 3 Prince Edmund’s eyes, however, were fixed on me, a mocking glint in their depths. “Distraught? Lady Eleanor, it is my mother who favored you, not I. I hope you understand that. The Queen doubtless valued your father’s influence. But when I ascend to the throne, I shall be King! All will be my vassals, and all will support me, will they not?” “I shall not rely on a woman’s sway to solidify my reign. And I never once said I would wed you.” “In days past, I found our conversations pleasant, and your wit engaging. But I never imagined you harbored such grand ambition, to become my Princess Consort.” I watched them, a duet of self-serving condescension. My patience, however, had worn thin. I took a step back. “Your Grace, my presence at the Royal Selection was merely by royal decree. Every legitimate daughter of a three-star lord in King’s Landing must attend. As for relying on influence to bolster a kingdom, or any talk of you marrying me—let us dispense with such foolishness. It might cause your future Princess Consort undue distress.” “Should she misunderstand, and believe you imply her family is less powerful, how would Lady Seraphina bear the slight?” With that, I turned and departed. Lady Seraphina was naturally suspicious and petty. Her father, the Lord Chamberlain, held one of the least powerful offices among the King’s ministers. Compared to my father, the Duke of Ravenshield, her family’s standing was truly insignificant. Three days later, the royal edict naming Seraphina as Prince Edmund’s Princess Consort was proclaimed. Seraphina immediately arranged a garden party, inviting all the noblewomen of King’s Landing. Who dared refuse, given Prince Edmund’s favor? At the garden party, Seraphina was adorned in shimmering jewels, her hair bedecked with the ornaments Prince Edmund and the Queen had showered upon her. Not yet a Princess Consort, yet she carried herself with the full pomp and circumstance of one. I recalled how, in my last life, she had been admired by Prince Edmund for her understated elegance, her disdain for opulent jewels, praised for her ethereal grace. I wondered if, in this life, Prince Edmund would still remark on her unworldly purity, seeing her now. Seraphina, before all the guests, tightly grasped my hand. “My dear sister, when I wed, would you consider being my Maid of Honor? To accompany me into the royal chapel on my wedding day? With a few dear sisters by my side, I might feel less apprehensive.” Her face wore an expression of pleading, yet her eyes glinted with triumphant amusement. In her mind, she was the undisputed victor, and this was her moment to publicly humiliate me. “As the Princess Consort, who you choose for your Maid of Honor is your prerogative. Who in King’s Landing would dare refuse my future Princess Consort such a courtesy, Lady Eleanor? What say you?” The voice belonged to Prince Edmund, who had just entered. Even for a ladies’ garden party, Prince Edmund had hastened to lend his presence, a testament to his deep affection for her. All eyes were on me, awaiting my reply. If I assented, it would signify my submission to the Princess Consort’s authority. If I refused, I would openly defy Prince Edmund. Prince Edmund brimmed with confidence, and Seraphina radiated smugness. But they had forgotten: my father was the Duke of Ravenshield, master of formidable forces. Aside from the King and Queen, I bowed to no one. I gently, but firmly, disengaged my hand from Seraphina’s. “My apologies, I fear I may not be able to attend your wedding, Your Grace. My father has sent for me, desiring my return home. Our departure is set for the very day of your nuptials with Prince Edmund.” Seraphina stared at me, her eyes brimming with moisture. “Is my sister truly so angry with me, so upset? How could it be such a coincidence that the Duke of Ravenshield just happens to send for you now?” 4 My lady-in-waiting, sensing my cue, answered on my behalf. “My lord Duke’s messengers arrived last night. They bear tidings of a betrothal already arranged for my lady. My lady has been in King’s Landing for half a year now; it is high time she returned home to prepare her trousseau for her nuptials.” At these words, Prince Edmund’s face visibly darkened. “You are returning to the Northern Marches? Your father sent you to King’s Landing not to find a noble husband here, to wed within the capital?” “I know you are displeased that I chose Seraphina. But what if I promised you that, after our wedding, I would take you as a secondary consort?” Seraphina’s face turned ashen. Before she could speak, I interjected, a faint smile on my lips. “What jest is this, Your Grace? Was it not just the other day, in the Great Hall, that you declared to the Queen your desire for a singular bond with Lady Seraphina?” “Moreover, a legitimate daughter of the House of Blackwood would never stoop to being a secondary consort.” Prince Edmund gritted his teeth. “Lady Eleanor, must you always be the Princess Consort? Is this empty title truly so important to you?” I looked at him, genuinely bewildered. “Your Grace, I never expressed a desire to be your Princess Consort. I have simply been away from home for too long, and my parents yearn for my return. I have no kin in King’s Landing. Returning home is only proper. Does Your Grace believe it acceptable to deny someone the right to return to their family?” Prince Edmund’s face grew progressively darker. “What if I refuse? What if I insist on marrying you?” “Then Your Grace will surely be disappointed. Lady Eleanor and I are already betrothed. Does Your Grace intend to abduct my future wife?” I turned, and there, entering the estate, was Sir Kaelen Vance, the Knight Commander. He was clad in rugged travel leathers, his face still bearing the dust of the road, clearly having ridden a thousand miles to reach King’s Landing. He strode in, taking a stand by my side, silently shielding me. Prince Edmund glared at him. “Knight Commander, are you not sworn to the borderlands? How dare you enter King’s Landing without royal summons?” Kaelen merely smiled. “I come by the Duke of Ravenshield’s command, to deliver a vital war report to His Majesty, and to escort Lady Eleanor, my betrothed, back to the Northern Marches.” “His Majesty, I trust, will understand my youthful fervor, that I might seize this duty of delivering dispatches for the sake of escorting my future wife. Coupled with our recent, glorious victory, His Majesty surely will not hold it against me.” He then looked at me, his eyes holding no one else but me. “My Lady Eleanor, this garden party seems exceedingly dull. I know a place just outside the city where the peach blossoms are in full, exquisite bloom. I could take you there; it would be infinitely more beautiful than this confined garden.” I smiled, rising. I curtseyed to Prince Edmund and Seraphina. “I shall take my leave now. I fear I may be long departed by the day of your wedding, so allow me to offer my best wishes for a century of harmony.” With that, I walked towards Sir Kaelen and followed him out of the manor. Prince Edmund rushed after us. “Lady Eleanor, can being a mere Knight Commander’s wife truly compare to being my secondary consort?” “Should I ascend to the throne, I promise you the rank of the most favored Lady of Silverwood. How does that sound?” Kaelen vaulted onto his steed, extending a hand to me. “Do you still recall how to ride?” I smiled, reaching for his hand. “Fortuitously, I haven’t forgotten.” I swung myself onto the saddle, sharing his mount, and we galloped away towards the city gates, leaving Prince Edmund’s desperate words and his despair behind. Prince Edmund’s wedding was a grand affair. On the morning of the ceremony, my carriage was already prepared, ready to depart. Unexpectedly, our procession crossed paths with the bridal procession on the streets of King’s Landing. I had deliberately chosen a route their wedding party would avoid. Yet, Prince Edmund, for some reason, had chosen this very street. Clad in his ceremonial wedding robes, he stood before my carriage, blocking our path. “Eleanor, are you truly leaving?”

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I longed to alter the tragic fate of the Divine Child, who, a millennium ago, met a gruesome end. Harnessing the System, I became his shadow for five years. Finally, after he inadvertently broke his vows, he agreed to abandon his monastic life and marry me. The night before our wedding, at the Royal Hunting Grounds, assassins struck. In that critical moment, he pushed me aside, choosing instead to shield the Emperor’s beloved Concubine. His sword gleamed, blood staining his pristine white robes, yet not a drop touched his untouched, beloved Concubine. I clutched my shoulder, the wound searing. It was then I finally understood: this love, spanning a thousand years, had to end. I summoned the long-silent System. “I want to go home.” “I no longer wish to alter his fate of being implicated by his pure love, of being dismembered, of having his sacred bones carved out, piece by agonizing piece.” 1 “System, I want to go home.” The long-dormant System, summoned by my plea, swiftly materialized. “Host, are you certain? The journey through time is a one-way trip. Once you return, you cannot go back to the era of Siddhartha, the Divine Child.” The System’s tone betrayed a hint of regret, even pity, for me. After all, it was the System that had sent me across a thousand years, thrusting me into this alien ancient world. I had sought Siddhartha, hoping to change his grim destiny. A bitter smile touched my lips. “I tried…” Siddhartha, the Divine Child, was a revered monk in history, born with sacred bones, his presence as pure and cold as fresh snow. He left behind countless holy scriptures, a distant, ethereal moon in the long night of history. Yet, he died at the age of twenty-five, all for a childhood sweetheart. For five years in this world, I meticulously chronicled every detail of his life, every fleeting expression, every nuanced gesture. Everyone knew that my eyes were solely for Siddhartha. Before I came here, I had studied him for so long. For him, I would have risked everything. I accompanied him through wind and rain, traversing treacherous, muddy mountain paths, simply to visit an ancient, barely accessible temple. For this, I caught a severe fever and broke a leg. I couldn’t comprehend the intricate, archaic scriptures, yet I willingly spent all my savings to purchase rare, sole copies for him, simply to witness him press his hands together in prayer, offering me a fleeting, gentle smile. Finally, on the fifth year, he returned from a royal banquet. He had been poisoned, and in that moment, he broke his monastic vows. He bit my lips. He murmured against my ear. He held me tightly, begging me not to leave him. I remember Siddhartha after he awoke. His eyes were bloodshot, his entire being seemingly fractured. His prayer beads were tightly wrapped around his hand, the veins prominent, as if ready to consume. He chanted his vows repeatedly, self-flagellating, unable to even glance at me. I gasped, a painful, heavy breath. Quietly, I began to dress. “Siddhartha, I’ll go out first…” “Wait!” He frowned, his voice cold, stopping me. “I have broken my vows. I can no longer be a monk.” His voice was light, yet it echoed in my ears for an eternity. “I will marry you.” I stood there, dumbfounded for a long time, before the meaning of Siddhartha’s words truly registered. My heart pounded in my ears like a drum. My very blood seemed to turn into viscous honey. Dizzily, a silly smile plastered on my face, I personally oversaw every detail of our impending wedding. My hands ached as I penned hundreds of invitations with an unfamiliar brush, my calligraphy clumsy. I cut out countless symbols of happiness from red paper. The patterns on my wedding gown felt too vulgar, unfitting for the pure and ethereal Siddhartha, so I redesigned them again and again. Every single detail, I wanted to be perfect. Yet— Our wedding was postponed. I touched the scar on my shoulder, still tender where the wound had scabbed. I forced a smile, wiping away tears that had welled up unnoticed. I found a large sandalwood chest. Into it, I carefully placed everything related to Siddhartha from the past five years: the wedding gown I never had a chance to wear, the meticulously kept journal documenting every detail of his life, even his worn monk’s robes. At eighteen, I was still a naive, idealistic girl, full of grand fantasies. I believed the System had sent me to him so I could find a way to keep him alive before he reached twenty-five. Later, I realized history simply could not be changed. No matter how long I stayed by his side, he would always, just as the historical records stated, sacrifice his life for the Imperial family. “Host, are you truly not staying?” I shook my head. “When can you send me home?” “In five days, the transmission will begin. You have five days to bid farewell to the people here, to leave no regrets…” 2 I entrusted the chest to Aella, my maidservant of five years. “After I leave,” I told her. “Take these to Lady Seraphina, the Royal Concubine. Consider it a keepsake for her.” Aella held the chest, her brow furrowed with anxious confusion. “Lady Aspen, where are you going? Are you not staying to marry the Divine Child?” Over the years, my profound admiration and relentless pursuit of Siddhartha had been witnessed by all. “Where are you going?” a cool, clear voice interrupted. I turned to see Siddhartha stepping out of his chambers. Moonlight enveloped his pristine white robes, casting a sacred, silvery glow around him. I recalled the first time I saw him; it was a scene much like this. He sat upon a lotus throne, revered by thousands, his slender fingers turning prayer beads as he chanted sutras, blessing all living beings. Just one glance, and I could never tear my eyes away. His gaze, however, had never truly lingered on me. “Nowhere,” I replied. “You know, I don’t know anyone else here.” For five years, my entire world had revolved around him, trying everything I could to change his future. “Just tidying some unnecessary things,” I murmured, my words more for myself than for him. “Asking Aella to dispose of them.” By clearing away these obsessions, I could leave without a single lingering regret. Siddhartha asked no further questions, merely glancing at the now empty hall. He had always been quiet and reserved, only showing a flicker of emotion when discussing scriptures with me, or when seeing someone else. 3 That evening, an urgent knocking echoed at the temple gates. I watched, startled, as Lady Seraphina, the Royal Concubine, stood at the entrance, dressed in humble maid’s attire. “Your Ladyship, what brings you here?” Lady Seraphina, her face etched with concern, walked directly towards Siddhartha’s chambers, her steps revealing a familiar ease. It was as if she had been here countless times before. “Siddhartha was injured protecting me,” she explained, her voice tinged with anxiety. “I simply couldn’t rest easy.” She then clutched my sleeve, her beautiful eyes glinting mischievously. “You must keep my presence here a secret.” I followed silently behind her, feeling like an unwelcome intruder, as she entered Siddhartha’s room. The moment Siddhartha saw her, the scripture he held slipped from his fingers. He rose abruptly. “Nonsense! What are you doing here?” I had never seen the usually serene Siddhartha so openly furious. His cold, rebuking words instantly brought tears to Lady Seraphina’s eyes. She bit her lip, crystal tears clinging to her lashes, and whimpered, “Why did you get hurt for me…?” “I was afraid no one else could care for you properly. I had to come see you myself to feel at ease.” I stiffened. My heart was yanked, a dull ache spreading through me. I had shared intimacy with Siddhartha, and we were engaged to be married, yet in their eyes, I was utterly insignificant, merely “someone else.” “If you don’t want to see me, I’ll leave!” Lady Seraphina declared, turning on her heel in a fit of pique. Siddhartha rose so quickly that his leg bumped against the corner of the table. He didn’t pause, grabbing Lady Seraphina’s arm firmly. In the process, the wound I had bandaged and dressed for him just days before reopened. Blood stained the fresh bandage, yet he didn’t notice, his eyes fixed solely on Lady Seraphina. Lady Seraphina gasped, staring at the blood dripping from his fingertips. Large tears welled in her eyes, rolling down her cheeks. Oblivious to my presence, she cupped Siddhartha’s hand, carefully unwrapping the bandage. Her fingers trembling, she applied ointment. I clearly saw the ice in Siddhartha’s eyes melt. Siddhartha, who abhorred being touched, did not withdraw his hand. He gently, tenderly wiped away Lady Seraphina’s tears. “Seraphina,” he murmured, his voice softening, “don’t cry. It doesn’t hurt… And it’s not worth risking your life by sneaking out of the palace. Don’t ever do this again.” His voice grew hoarse. “You are the Emperor’s Concubine. You rightfully belong in the palace, by His Majesty’s side.” Seraphina. That was Lady Seraphina’s intimate given name. For five years, Siddhartha had only ever addressed me by my full name, “Aspen.” This, I realized, was the stark difference. 4 I remembered that night in the meditation hall, the air thick with the scent of sandalwood. Even drugged, his mind clouded, he had tried his best not to touch me. His robes remained undisturbed. In his dark, unfocused eyes, there was only black ice. He had merely used me as an antidote. Thinking back now, his desperate embrace, his pleas for me not to leave… It was all an illusion, a delirium brought on by the drug, mistaking me for someone else. I, foolishly, had been so happy, believing he was simply not good with words, accustomed to asceticism, but that he held a small, unique affection for me. It wasn’t until I witnessed his interaction with Lady Seraphina that I truly understood. His coldness, his detachment from worldly desires, was reserved only for me. 5 I quietly retreated. My nose stung, and I gazed at the hazy, distant moon. A moon that could not be plucked from the sky. So let it remain there, unreachable. From afar, I would offer my silent blessings. Through the closed door, Lady Seraphina’s broken sobs drifted intermittently. “Siddhartha, you know how to wound me so deeply!” she cried. “Do you hate me? I thought you had severed all earthly ties…” “You were forced into the selection for the Royal Concubines back then, weren’t you? Don’t you know who I truly wished to marry?” “You only became a monk after I entered the palace, didn’t you?” I covered my ears, desperate not to hear. But Lady Seraphina’s cries, and his low, comforting murmurs, infiltrated every crevice, piercing my ears, stabbing my heart. Finally, Lady Seraphina’s voice ceased. Then came the sound of a table colliding with something. A long time passed before Lady Seraphina emerged. Her lipstick was smudged. I averted my eyes, forbidding myself to speculate, to grieve over someone who held no consequence for me. Five days left. In five days, I would be able to leave. And never return. Lady Seraphina’s smile was dazzling, yet strangely cutting. She leaned in, as if deliberately wanting me to notice something, and pressed a small bottle of medicine into my hand. “You know, as a Royal Concubine, I cannot often leave the palace,” she purred. “So, I’ll have to trouble you to look after Siddhartha. He has a cold temperament, pushing others away, so please, Lady Aspen, bear with him.” She spoke as if declaring her ownership, introducing Siddhartha to me. I was his nominal “fiancée.” How could it be a “trouble”? Compared to every previous disappointment and hurt, I calmly took the medicine from her hand and nodded in agreement. Siddhartha rushed out after her, his expression surprisingly anxious. I felt a faint, bitter laugh bubble up within me. He believed I would make things difficult for the pure love he cherished in his heart. But what right did I have? “Lady Seraphina and I have no intimate connection,” Siddhartha explained, for the first time, to me. “She came only out of gratitude for my saving her.” My gaze fell, landing directly on the lipstick stain on his pristine white robe. A vibrant, almost defiant color, like a delicate begonia blooming on his shoulder. I still felt a catch in my throat. “It seems the Concubine’s comfort was effective.” Siddhartha, noticing the lipstick mark, his face subtly shifting, frowned and vigorously tried to rub it off. “Aspen, it’s not what you think.” His voice returned to its usual composed tone, tinged with a hint of helpless exasperation, as if I were being unreasonable. “The Concubine merely tripped over the table, almost falling, and I simply helped her. Her lipstick just rubbed onto my robes.” Siddhartha’s cool eyes fixed on mine. In the years I had been by his side, I had grown somewhat insecure, constantly haunted by the historical accounts of his tragic end. Because I had come solely for him, he couldn’t possibly understand. I still remembered Siddhartha, like the pure white snow on a mountain peak, radiating compassion. He had said, word for word, “My heart is devoted to the Dharma, and it shall never change. I will never fall into the worldly abyss for anyone.” I stood outside the temple, having heard his words, and did not return to his side. That was when I first tried to summon the System to leave, but it did not respond. When Siddhartha found me, my eyes were swollen from crying. His profound features held no emotion, nor did he offer comfort. After a long time, when my sobs had dissolved into hiccups, he spoke calmly, “I’ve prepared the vegetarian meal. It will get cold if we don’t go back now, and cold vegetarian meals are not palatable.” I returned to his side. I thought I always would leave. He was so anxious about Lady Seraphina’s reputation. I closed my red-rimmed eyes. Since I was leaving anyway, why should I care so much? “Siddhartha, I believe you. I believe there’s nothing between you and Lady Seraphina.” 6 Late into the silent night, I unlaced my gown and applied ointment to my shoulder. Even today, Siddhartha remained unaware. On the day of the Royal Hunting Grounds, I too had been wounded. An assassin’s sword had pierced my arm, blood soaking through my clothes. It hurt so much, so terribly! After kicking me away, the assassin had sneered at me: “I heard that the Divine Child, Siddhartha, broke his vows for you, willing to forsake his monastic life and marry you. Yet, at the moment of life and death, the one he cared for, the one he saved, was not you!” “Tsk, tsk. You even thought to use your life to threaten him. Clearly, you’re not so important after all.” It was all just rumors. The Divine Child’s heart had never wavered. I couldn’t change anything. That day, I wore an ochre-red silk gown. The blood that flowed out was barely visible to others. My face was deathly pale. I strained to look towards Siddhartha. The moment the assassin lunged towards the Emperor’s side, Siddhartha made his choice. He violently pushed away my grasping hand, letting me fall to the ground, scraping my elbow. He grasped the sword, his hand closing around the blade, deflecting it from Lady Seraphina. Blood dripped from his fingers; even from a distance, it seared my eyes. Each drop fell onto his pristine white robes. All the chaos on the ground, the blood… was shielded by his tall, resolute figure. It was Lady Seraphina who reacted first. She suppressed the anxiety on her face, still feigning unfamiliarity with Siddhartha. Lady Seraphina stammered, holding back tears, her voice reaching my ears: “Divine Child, you need not save me. You should first save Lady Aspen.” Siddhartha did not glance my way, his voice cool and detached: “Her Ladyship’s life is more important than hers.” The medicinal powder stung the wound on my shoulder. I gasped, a sharp intake of breath. I finally understood: true affection could not be feigned. One would instinctively risk their life to protect the person they truly cared for! Recalling that scene at the hunting grounds, even now, as I decided to leave, a bitter ache still lingered in my heart. But it no longer mattered. Once I left this era, I would completely forget him, wouldn’t I? 7 From my sleeve, I pulled out the last item belonging to Siddhartha. It was a string of blood-red prayer beads. When the System first sent me to this era, I had dropped from the sky, still wearing strange, modern clothes. The villagers murmured, reporting me to the authorities, intending to have me arrested for questioning. I hid, dodging their pursuit, until I saw Siddhartha, pure and serene, seated on a lotus throne, chanting scriptures and offering blessings. When he prepared to return to the temple, I finally appeared before him. “Divine Child, can you save me just this once?” I pleaded. “I will repay you!” Siddhartha said nothing. He simply allowed me to hide in his palanquin. The palanquin was small, and we were pressed closely together. His cool robes, imbued with the scent of sandalwood, brushed against my face, filling me with a lingering sense of melancholy. I mourned for the historically famous figure who would one day fall. As he departed, Siddhartha slipped the prayer beads from his wrist and gave them to me. “This is my token. The officials will not trouble you if they see it.” I caressed the warm, smooth beads in my hand. No matter how much lingering attachment I had, it was time to sever it. The day before I left, I found Siddhartha. I held out the string of prayer beads that had never left my wrist, offering them to him. I had initially intended to seal them in the chest, but these prayer beads, it was said, were a relic passed down to him by his master. After some thought, I decided it was best to return them to him personally. “These prayer beads are too precious,” I said. “I no longer have need of them, so I’m returning them to you. My apologies for causing you so much trouble all this time.” Siddhartha was deep in meditation. At my words, he suddenly opened his clear, profound eyes. “You don’t want them?” His voice seemed a fraction more urgent. I thought I must have misheard. I smiled and nodded. “Yes. It’s your master’s prayer beads; it’s not fitting for me to keep wearing them. When you meet someone more important in the future, you can give them to her.” This was my last farewell to him. The System had told me not to leave any regrets. I expected him to say something to me, even just a question. But he asked nothing. After a cool nod, he took the prayer beads from my hand. Historical records stated that he was born with sacred bones, destined for monastic life. I took one last, lingering look at Siddhartha’s features, as cold and sharp as carved ice. He truly looked like a living Buddha seated on a lotus throne, devoid of all human emotion. This was for the best. As if I had never appeared at all. 8 On my final day before the System transported me away, an imperial decree arrived from the palace, summoning both Siddhartha and me for an audience with the Emperor. On the way to the main hall, I suddenly twisted my ankle. The palace attendants instructed me to rest in the Royal Gardens while they went to fetch a palanquin. I sat quietly behind a cluster of flowering shrubs. There, I saw Lady Seraphina, whom I hadn’t seen in a long time. Apart from that one time she secretly snuck out of the palace and was rebuked by Siddhartha, she had never dared to leave the palace again. She wore a lavish palace gown, accompanied by her maidservant, looking rather despondent as she admired the flowers. After ensuring no one else was nearby, Lady Seraphina caressed a flower branch and murmured, “I wonder how much longer it will be before I can see Siddhartha again. He is about to abandon his monastic life and marry… What reason will I have left to visit him then?” Lady Seraphina forced a pale smile. “Sometimes, I selfishly wish he would remain a monk his entire life, devoted to the solitary lamp and ancient scriptures. If he cannot belong to me, then he should not belong to any other woman.” Her maid, likely her confidante, consoled her. “Your Ladyship, do you not already know why the Divine Child is forsaking his vows, why he is marrying that woman?” She paused, leaning in conspiratorially. “It’s all for you, Your Ladyship!” “At the imperial banquet, someone deliberately set a trap for Your Ladyship. The Divine Child, upon learning of it, specifically swapped the wine cups and drank the poisoned wine himself. This servant created an opportunity for you to be alone with him, yet he preferred to bite his own tongue until it bled rather than touch Your Ladyship, using your precious body as an antidote. He firmly sent Your Ladyship back to the palace, and only after confirming your safety did he leave.” “That shameless woman, who has followed the Divine Child for five years, constantly clinging to him, is merely his antidote. Why should Your Ladyship concern yourself with her existence? If the Divine Child had truly harbored feelings for her, he would not have allowed her to remain by his side for five years, only to offer to marry her out of obligation after that incident.” I raised my cold hand and rubbed my stiff, numb face. I knew in my heart that I was merely Siddhartha’s “antidote,” but hearing it spoken so contemptuously by others was an entirely different experience. He was unwilling to sully or contaminate his “pure love,” unwilling to subject her to gossip within the palace, so he chose me. I limped on my sprained ankle, following Siddhartha in a daze to the main hall. The Emperor, majestic and smiling, spoke, “You, as a man of the cloth, bravely risked your life to protect my beloved Concubine. For this, you have rendered great service. I hear you broke your monastic vows for a woman named Aspen. I grant you permission to return to secular life, and I bestow upon you and that woman my imperial blessing for marriage!” This was an immense honor, like a thunderbolt, exploding within the grand hall. Siddhartha, who was kneeling before me, lifted his face in disbelief, his body under his robes suddenly rigid. Actually, Siddhartha didn’t need to be so distressed. I was leaving soon; I wouldn’t entangle him further, nor would I marry him. “I respectfully ask His Majesty to retract the decree,” I said, standing up, ignoring the myriad gazes fixed upon me. “This commoner does not wish to marry him.” I continued, “This commoner does not belong here and will soon depart…” Siddhartha’s cool demeanor shattered like broken jade, cracking inch by agonizing inch. His eyes were wide with shock, and the corners of his eyes were faintly red as he looked at me. “Aspen, what are you saying?” 9 “Where are you going?” Siddhartha’s face was ashen, as if he had been struck by lightning. He was like a shattered jade Buddha, revealing the panic hidden within. He gripped my wrist, his fingers white, pressing painfully into my skin. I hadn’t even had a chance to speak. A palace attendant, frantic, burst into the hall. “Your Majesty, Lady Seraphina collapsed just outside the hall!” She didn’t want the Emperor to bestow the marriage. Actually, I had never truly hoped to marry Siddhartha; I just wanted to try and change his fate. I was an outsider from the beginning, so it was best to return him to her. The Emperor, overcome with concern, immediately left the hall to see to Lady Seraphina. Others followed, leaving the grand hall empty. Only Siddhartha remained, his eyes red-rimmed, still clutching my wrist, refusing to let go. If only he had tried to keep me earlier… I smiled at him, my gaze falling on his hand wrapped in prayer beads. “The Concubine collapsed. Aren’t you going to check on her?” It was too tiring, seeing him abandon me again and again to rush to Lady Seraphina’s side. Siddhartha’s serene face was taut. He lowered his gaze, revealing a flicker of panic and vulnerability. “Aspen, I won’t do it again!” His voice was hoarse. “I… I ruined your purity, I am honor-bound to take responsibility! I will accept the Imperial marriage decree…” He tightened his grip on my wrist. “Just as we agreed before, I will leave my monastic life and marry you!” I chuckled softly, interrupting him. “Divine Child, you chose me only because you were drugged. I was merely an ‘antidote,’ nothing more. You don’t need to trouble yourself over it.” Siddhartha’s face grew even paler, as if a sharp thorn had pierced his heart. His voice trembled slightly as he called my name, urgent. “Aspen, it’s not like that! I had actually made my choice long before! The drug didn’t completely cloud my mind; I know exactly what I did and what I said!” “It’s not that I didn’t want to marry you. It’s just that I couldn’t come to terms with it myself; I had allowed worldly desires to sway me…” “My feelings for Lady Seraphina are purely gratitude! When I was young and destitute, the Vance family offered me kindness. I promised Lord Vance I would protect Lady Seraphina, that’s all it ever was.” “What you heard was not the truth, Aspen. Why didn’t you ask me? After she entered the palace, I never harbored any improper thoughts!” “Aspen, I can tell you, I regard Lady Seraphina as a benefactor, as a sister I need to protect, but not as a romantic interest…” From outside the palace hall, a collective sigh of relief echoed. “Wonderful! Her Ladyship has awakened!” Lady Seraphina, awakening in the Emperor’s arms, instinctively, weakly called out Siddhartha’s name, again and again. Siddhartha’s body instantly tensed, afraid to turn back. Outside the grand hall, the crowd gathered around the Concubine held their breath. Lady Seraphina’s maid knelt. “Your Majesty, Her Ladyship has been fainting frequently recently, with no discernible cause. There are rumors of malevolent spirits troubling the Inner Palace, many of the palace staff have witnessed them… The Divine Child, Siddhartha, with his profound Buddhist teachings and deep cultivation, is the very one Her Ladyship wished to invite into the palace to dispel these ill omens.” Lady Seraphina, now awake and nestled in the Emperor’s arms, looked towards Siddhartha. “His Majesty, it is precisely so. My body has grown weaker and weaker lately. I heard His Majesty was about to bestow a marriage upon the Divine Child, so I wanted to seize the opportunity to invite the Divine Child to the palace to dispel evil. Who knew I would collapse again right at the palace entrance?” Others might not have noticed. But I heard it clearly: Lady Seraphina emphasized the words “bestow a marriage” with particular weight. The frozen tension in the air finally dissipated. The Emperor, doting on his beloved Concubine, agreed to let Siddhartha go to her palace to dispel evil.

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