Category: English

My in-laws insisted we spend the New Year holidays at their ancestral home. Unable to secure flights, we decided to drive. But then, my wife Chloe’s childhood crush, Ethan Hayes, heard about our plans and declared he simply had to come along. He even audaciously claimed the passenger seat next to me, a smug smirk plastered on his face. “Leo, old man,” he drawled, “I get terrible motion sickness. The front seat is my only option.” Chloe shot me a look of pure contempt. “It’s just one seat, Leo. Why are you being so petty?” She scoffed. “If you could even drive, would this be such a hassle?” My in-laws chimed in, their voices dripping with disapproval. “You’re a grown man. Why are you so narrow-minded?” Outnumbered and out-argued, I found myself squeezed uncomfortably in the back seat with them. Who would have thought that as we passed through a toll plaza, Ethan would spot a stray dog and, in a sudden burst of performative generosity, exclaim: “Oh, that dog looks so pathetic! We simply must take it with us!” I immediately objected. “Our car is full. Adding a dog would make us over capacity, and we won’t be allowed on the road.” No sooner had the words left my lips than Chloe rounded on me, her eyes blazing. “Leo, if that’s the case, then you can give up your seat for the stray! Just take a cab home!” 1 As we drove through the toll plaza, Ethan, who’d insisted on squeezing in with us for the drive to the ancestral home, spotted a stray dog and demanded we take it with us. My protests were utterly ignored by Ethan. He simply turned his pleading gaze to Chloe. “Chloe, look how pitiful this little dog is. If we just leave it here, it’ll surely freeze to death.” His voice softened, taking on a theatrical tremor. “It’s so tiny, it hasn’t even seen the world yet. It shouldn’t die here like this.” With that, he scooped the dog into his arms. Chloe, her heart swelling with an apparent tenderness, pulled my coat from the back seat and wrapped it around the dog, murmuring to it as if no one else were present: “Don’t worry, little one. I won’t abandon you.” Then, turning to Ethan, she gently instructed, “Don’t get your own clothes dirty. Use this coat to keep it warm.” She then turned her displeasure on me, her eyes snapping. “Leo, how can you be so utterly devoid of compassion?” Her voice rose. “While in your eyes it might just be a stray, it’s still a living, breathing creature. How can you be so utterly indifferent, so cold-blooded?” I stared blankly at the two overflowing with self-righteous sentiment. I hadn’t once suggested abandoning the dog, yet they had painted me as some kind of unfeeling monster. And one of them was my wife, with whom I had shared a bed for years. Despite my rising anger, I patiently tried to explain. “If you truly want to save this dog, we could leave some food for it.” I offered a practical solution. “Or we could speak to the convenience store clerk here, leave some money, and ask them to care for it.” I gestured to the crammed interior of the car. “Our car is already full. Taking it along would put us over capacity, and we’d certainly be stopped by the traffic police.” I thought my explanation was clear enough. But no sooner had the words left my lips than Ethan scoffed. “Leo, I know you’re rolling in money, but how can you just leave this poor stray with some random store clerk? How can you be sure they’ll properly care for it?” He cradled the dog closer. “What if they take the money and do nothing? What about Shadow?” In less than five minutes, Ethan had already named the stray dog. “How is a little dog like this supposed to survive the bitter cold of winter?” He widened his eyes, his voice laced with manufactured indignation. “In the eyes of you rich folks, is a dog’s life really so worthless? Is it not a life at all?” He paused dramatically. “How can you be so heartless as to leave it here, all alone? Can’t you see it’s trembling with cold?” I found Ethan’s moral grandstanding quite amusing. “I think you make a good point,” I said, a slow, chilling smile touching my lips. My tone shifted. “So, how about you give up your seat for this little black dog, Shadow?” I watched his face. “After all, you’re the extra one in this car.” 2 Hearing my words, Ethan, who had just been so righteously indignant, froze. “You wouldn’t ask Chloe’s parents to get out of the car for your little dog, would you?” I pressed on. “They’re older, after all.” I paused, letting the implication hang in the air. “Since you’re so concerned for this little dog, how about I take it with me, and you stay behind?” Now it was Ethan’s turn to panic. He nervously glanced at Chloe. Chloe’s brow furrowed, and she shot me an irritated glare. “Leo, that’s going too far.” Her voice was sharp. “Ethan is a guest I invited to come home with us. How can you just abandon him in a place like this? Is that how you treat a guest?” I used to think Chloe was incapable of caring for others. Now I realized she just wasn’t capable of caring for me. When it came to Ethan, she was meticulous, terrified of causing her beloved first love even the slightest inconvenience. I crossed my arms, watching Chloe with a calm, expectant air. “So, what exactly do you propose?” Without a moment’s hesitation, she gently lifted little Shadow into the car. Then, she turned to me, her gaze cold and dismissive. “Leo, you’ll just have to make a small sacrifice. Give your seat to this little dog.” She paused. “You can take a taxi. That way, you won’t be crammed in the back with my parents, and you’ll be more comfortable.” Just then, a cry of surprise came from the back seat, from Chloe’s parents. “Oh, where did this stray dog come from? It’s already cramped enough back here; there’s no room!” Chloe patiently reassured them. “Don’t worry, Mom and Dad. Leo won’t be riding with us, so it won’t be crowded.” With that single sentence, she directly stripped me of my rightful place, and not a single one of my supposed family members objected. “You want me to give up my seat for a stray dog?” I pointed to myself, disbelief hardening my voice, staring at Chloe. She looked at me as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Mom and Dad are old. Do you want to leave them stranded at this toll booth? Do you have no sense of responsibility as a son-in-law?” Her voice rose. “As for Ethan, he’s my guest. Have you ever seen a host abandon their guest and leave them alone?” She scoffed. “If anything happens to him, what’s the difference between you and a murderer?” Her face softened, almost condescendingly. “I’m doing this for your own good. Can you stop throwing your tantrums?” She then began to complain. “If you could drive, would this even be an issue?” Her voice rose again, tinged with self-pity. “I’m already exhausted from driving such a long distance, Leo. Can’t you show me a little consideration?” I stared at Chloe in stunned silence. It was true, I didn’t drive. My family had always provided a driver for me since I was a child. Later, my parents died in a car accident, and driving became a profound phobia for me. Chloe wasn’t unaware of the reason; she used to comfort me. “I’ll be your driver from now on, Leo. You just need to sit comfortably in the passenger seat.” Now, she not only gave my passenger seat to Ethan, but my inability to drive had become another excuse for her complaints. My heart felt as if it had been doused with ice water, turning instantly frigid. She worried about her parents’ age, worried about Ethan’s delicate constitution. Even a random stray dog received Chloe’s sympathetic attention. Only for me, was there not a shred of compassion. Yet, she felt perfectly justified in leaving me alone at this desolate toll booth, nowhere near a town. I looked at Chloe, my voice flat. “So, what about me?” Chloe didn’t hesitate for a moment. “You’re a grown man. Don’t you know how to find your way home?” She offered a dismissive wave of her hand. “Even if you are a pampered young master who expects everything handed to him, you can still call a taxi, can’t you?” With that, she calmly ushered Ethan into the passenger seat, closing the door for him with tender care. “It’s cold outside. Just stay warm in the car.” Ethan shot me a triumphant smirk. “Thanks, Leo, old man!” he called out, his voice dripping with false gratitude. “Saving a dog’s life is like building a seven-story pagoda. Little Shadow will be eternally grateful to you.” 3 He spoke of gratitude, but his eyes gleamed with smug satisfaction. They sat comfortably in the heated car, while I stood alone outside, enduring the biting wind. A stark contrast indeed. “Chloe Miller,” I called out, my voice laced with venom, “do you even remember who your husband is?!” That single sentence successfully wiped the smile from Chloe’s face. “Even if you are my husband, you can’t be so unreasonable!” she snapped. “I’m not asking you to walk home. It’s just a cab ride, isn’t it? Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” She scowled. “Leo Sterling, when are you going to learn to be more generous?!” With that, she slammed the car door shut, starting the engine. “Instead of bickering with me, you should hurry up and call a taxi,” she yelled through the closed window. “Don’t delay everyone’s New Year’s Eve dinner!” Hearing ‘New Year’s Eve dinner,’ Chloe’s parents didn’t forget to call out their own demands. “Leo, remember to pick up some fresh vegetables when you get back!” her mother chirped. “The eggs at the old house might be expired, don’t forget to buy some new ones.” Her father added, “Oh, and your father-in-law hasn’t been feeling well lately; he can’t eat anything too greasy. Try to make the New Year’s Eve dinner light and healthy!” They seemed to have completely forgotten that I had been kicked out of the car and, at this point, had no idea how I was even supposed to get back. They still shamelessly treated me like a personal servant, barking orders. Even Ethan, watching the drama unfold, casually chimed in, “Leo, you’re impressive! You actually cook?” Chloe nodded in agreement, a faint smirk playing on her lips. Ethan eyed me with a teasing look. “Then I’ll put in a request for braised lion’s head meatballs. That shouldn’t be too hard, right?” With that, he casually rolled up the window. Chloe didn’t spare me another glance, hitting the gas and driving off. The car had barely driven off when Chloe’s call came through. But it wasn’t remorse, nor was it concern for my safety. It was just another assignment. “What are you doing? Why haven’t you hailed a cab yet?” Her voice was laced with impatience. “And listen, Ethan gets car sick, so I can’t drive fast. So, when you get a cab, tell the driver to speed up. Get back first and prepare the New Year’s Eve dinner we just ordered. We’re all tired from the long drive. Hurry up and do what you’re supposed to!” I used to be a pampered young master who didn’t know the first thing about cooking. I only learned to cook after I started dating Chloe. We always had household staff. But Chloe and her parents insisted on eating my cooking, claiming that only my personal efforts could prove my love. I had complained, of course, but Chloe always shut me down. “Mom and Dad have worked hard their whole lives; they just want to enjoy their son-in-law’s blessings. Just indulge them a little.” With one casual remark about ‘outsourcing filial piety,’ she successfully trapped me in a cage of servitude, catering to their every whim for three years. Every year, the New Year’s Eve dinner naturally fell to me. I couldn’t even get Chloe to help with the smallest task. Because my mother-in-law would say, “A man cooking is a sign of love for his woman,” and literally dragged Chloe out of the kitchen. In the eyes of my in-laws, and even Chloe herself, I wasn’t a husband, nor a son-in-law. I was merely their personal servant, handling their every need. Listening to her demands, the last shred of lingering affection I held for Chloe was personally shredded by her. In that moment, a sudden clarity washed over me. Since there was no love left, why would I keep this ungrateful woman for the New Year, inviting bad luck for the year to come? I immediately sent a message to my lawyer, instructing him to prepare all the necessary divorce papers. I looked in the direction they had left, and a chilling smile touched my lips. Then, I dialed 911. “I want to report a crime. My wife intentionally abandoned me on the highway.”

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On last year’s Samhain, my brother, Ronan, accompanied his mentee, Celeste Thorne – a young woman with an inherent sensitivity to spiritual entities – to the secluded woodlands for stargazing, celebrating her birthday. To ensure no lingering malevolence disturbed them, he took with him our family’s ancient relic: the Soul-Quelling Amber. Unbeknownst to him, a vengeful spirit, one he had gravely wounded in the past, seized the opportunity to infiltrate our estate. My pregnant sister-in-law, Seraphina, in a desperate act to shield me, was dragged off by the malevolent entity and cast into our deep well. Both her life and the life of her unborn child were extinguished in an instant. My little niece, Penny, in her courageous effort to cover my escape, had her legs brutally severed. In my despair, I called Ronan, pleading for help. Hearing the news, he was forced to abandon Celeste and rush back home. The vengeful spirit was eventually purified, but from the woodlands came grim tidings: Celeste Thorne had vanished without a trace, leaving behind only a blood-stained hair tie. Ronan, his face devoid of emotion, calmly collected the hair tie, then dismissively assured me that everything was fine. Yet, on the very day Seraphina was due to give birth, Ronan pushed me off a cliff. “If you hadn’t called me back, how would Celeste have died?! I demand blood for blood!” His scream still echoed in my memory, a sharp blade piercing my heart. My eyes snapped open once more, the villa’s lights extinguished. Only the low, sinister gurgle of the vengeful spirit’s laughter resonated through the oppressive darkness. 1 Outside the window, a fleeting shadow darted past, causing the doors and windows to creak and rattle. I jolted awake, snatching Seraphina and Penny, pulling them into the ancestral shrine. “Kaelin,” Seraphina’s voice held a note of concern, “Why are you trembling so violently? It’s quite normal for restless spirits to stir things up around Samhain every year, isn’t it?” “Yeah, Aunt Kaelin,” Penny chimed in, her childish voice full of confusion, “We have the Soul-Quelling Amber at home. Those little ghosts wouldn’t dare come in.” The mother and daughter exchanged puzzled glances, then casually tried to soothe me. They didn’t know that Ronan, to accompany Celeste Thorne in the wilderness for her birthday celebration, had long since taken the family’s Soul-Quelling Amber with him. “Seraphina,” my voice quivered, words catching in my throat, “Ronan took the Amber. Now, this house… it’s just an ordinary house.” “More accurately,” I choked out, “it’s the most dangerous place.” Our Luminara family has for generations been dedicated to purifying spiritual entities. In modern times, the number of grudging spirits we’ve subdued is countless, and naturally, we’ve made many enemies. During ordinary Samhain nights, even when the spectral unrest was high, with the Soul-Quelling Amber present, no vengeful spirit dared approach within a ten-mile radius. But now, this villa, left unguarded by the Soul-Quelling Amber, had become a clear target, a beacon in the eyes of all vengeful spirits. Most critically, I was born with a unique constitution, highly sensitive to spirits, yet lacked the ability to purify them. I was just an ordinary person. And at this moment, with a pregnant woman and a child, facing these vengeful spirits, our situation was extremely perilous. My hands trembling, I struggled to move tables, even dragging an old coffin to barricade the doorway. Then I pulled out a thick stack of talismans, affixing them one by one to the doors and windows. After that, I swiftly knelt, banging my head three times against the floor, arranging the ancestral tablets of our first and earliest patriarchs into a Ten Directions Seal, encircling us within its protection. Seraphina, gripping the edge of a table, watched in astonishment. She couldn’t comprehend how, in our Luminara family, where spirit purification and securing safety through ancient arrays had always been paramount, the very family heirloom could have been taken. Even less could she believe that Ronan, as the sole heir to the Luminara legacy of spirit purification, who had always acted with careful deliberation, could have lost his mind and done something so utterly preposterous. But seeing my brazen, almost sacrilegious actions, Seraphina had no choice but to believe. “Then call him! Call your brother back!” she urged, frantic. The words had barely left her lips when the single candle flame within the room ‘poof’ extinguished, and an eerie, skin-crawling laughter echoed through the sudden darkness. Seraphina collapsed to the floor, clutching Penny in a trembling embrace, her face ghastly pale with fright. However, I did not contact Ronan. Reborn, I couldn’t trust that he would come to our rescue immediately. After all, last time he returned, Seraphina was already dead, Penny’s legs crippled, and my own eyes had been gouged out. I unclasped the pristine, frost-white jade pendant from my neck and pressed it into Seraphina’s trembling hand. I was unable to master the Luminara family’s secret arts. My father, to protect me, had collaborated with other clan members to craft this jade. With the jade to protect Seraphina and Penny, my heart felt a fraction lighter. Seraphina, understanding my intention, was unwilling to accept it. As we wrestled over it, the front door crashed open with a resounding ‘BANG’. I instinctively shielded the mother and daughter, my gaze locked on the oppressive void before us. The temperature in the room plummeted. Though nothing was visible, a sudden, chilling sensation crept up my scalp, as if countless needles hung suspended directly above our heads. And since moments ago, my little niece had been fiddling with her wrist communicator, now finally connecting with Ronan. “Daddy, come back quickly! There’s a vengeful spirit in the house!” she cried, her voice laced with fear. Ronan’s voice on the line was impatient: “Alright, Penny, stop being silly. Daddy is busy. Can’t you be more sensible?” Seraphina cried out, “Ronan, this isn’t a joke! A vengeful spirit is in the house! If you don’t come back, the children and I will truly die!” Ronan’s voice turned icy: “Wife, how many times have I told you? Can’t you women suppress your jealous, competitive nature? I’m merely accompanying Celeste for her birthday, and you’re acting like a raving harpy, it’s so disappointing.” “Don’t come at me with excuses about pregnancy hormones or being overly possessive or paranoid. I don’t want to hear a single word of it. Right now, I’m celebrating Celeste’s birthday.” “Oh, and tell Kaelin Luminara, she’s going to be married off sooner or later, so she should stop meddling in our affairs, or she’ll end up suffering the same tragic consequences as last time!” I felt as if plunged into an ice-cold abyss. Ronan… he was reborn too! If that was the case, he knew precisely what would befall the three of us, yet why was he acting with such chilling indifference? Could it be that, in this new life, Ronan cared neither for the life of his own sister nor for the lives of his wife and child? 2 The vengeful spirits began to churn through everything in the room, clattering and groaning with deafening roars. Tonight, the yin energy was potent, and the spirits’ resentment was strong. Ordinary talismans were utterly useless against their assault. Thankfully, the ancestral patriarchs’ tablets provided some suppression, keeping the spirits at bay for now. Composing myself, I dialed the number for Julian Vance, Captain of the Havenwood Bind-Spirit Unit, and also my fiancé. “Julian, you need to bring your team to my house, fast! We’re surrounded by vengeful spirits!” “Hmph, Miss Luminara,” he scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “you’ll truly say anything to trick your brother into coming back, won’t you?” “You know perfectly well it’s Samhain tonight, and supernatural incidents are rampant. The unit is swamped, yet you pull a stunt like this. Do you think the lives of Havenwood citizens are worth nothing?” Julian’s snide tone caught me off guard. I was about to explain, but he simply hung up. Undeterred, I called again. After numerous attempts, Julian finally picked up, seemingly annoyed. “Your brother already called me. He said you and your sister-in-law, out of jealousy because he was with Celeste, would definitely claim that vengeful spirits had entered the house.” My voice cracked with urgency, tears welling up: “Julian, don’t believe my brother! There are vengeful spirits! They’re the same ones you and my brother wounded last month in the Blackwood University district!” Julian didn’t believe me. He spoke coldly: “Do you take me for a fool? Your Luminara family’s Soul-Quelling Amber never leaves the estate. Your brother would be insane to take it!” Fuming with exasperation, I urged Julian to check their Bind-Spirit Unit’s Divination Needle; it would detect if the Soul-Quelling Amber was still within Havenwood. Julian utterly dismissed it, instead impatiently snapping, “Kaelin Luminara, can you women not have some limit to your squabbling? Do you really feel accomplished making up such things for attention?!” Tears streamed down my face in sheer desperation: “Please! My sister-in-law is heavily pregnant, and Penny is only four years old! This is all real!” Yet, my frantic pleas failed to convince him. Julian even angrily kicked something over, then threatened ominously: “Kaelin Luminara, if you’ve stooped to such depths, there’s no need for our engagement to continue.” His words struck my heart like a heavy hammer. Julian and I had been betrothed since childhood, growing up as childhood sweethearts, and our bond had always been strong. But ever since Celeste appeared, both he and Ronan had changed. Ronan rarely came home, and when he did, he would constantly compare Seraphina to Celeste, sparking countless arguments. And Julian, he too showed a distinct favoritism towards Celeste, turning to find flaws in me at every turn, even repeatedly approaching my father in private to break off the engagement. These two men, they’d done so many foolish things for Celeste. Our Luminara family upheld an ancient decree: unless a vengeful spirit was utterly irredeemable, it was to be granted a path to redemption. Yet, simply because a spirit had dared to glance at Celeste, Ronan and Julian had led a team to the Blackwood University district to subdue all the spirits in that area. They shattered the balance of yin and yang there, twisting benign spirits into malevolent entities, which in turn brought this retribution upon us. The memory of our tragedy in the previous life sent shivers down my spine. I absolutely could not allow the tragedy of the past to repeat itself! I bit down hard on my lower lip, almost begging: “Julian, I agree to break off our engagement! Just send your team over now, and I’ll stay far away from you forever, I promise I won’t bother you again!” Julian paused for a long moment. He knew how much I loved him, and he’d seen my notebook filled with “Marry Julian Vance.” My devotion to him was akin to life itself; he knew better than anyone that I wouldn’t easily give up on my feelings for him. Yet now, I had uttered such words. His colleague beside him seemed to object: “Captain Vance, maybe you should go take a look? Miss Luminara wouldn’t joke about something like this.” “Besides, this year’s Samhain has been calmer than usual. The guys can handle it themselves. You go on.” Julian let out a heavy sigh, his resolve wavering. I seized the opportunity to record the scene unfolding around me and sent it to him with a single tap. The chaotic scene, Seraphina, heavily pregnant, clutching Penny, who was trembling with fear—Julian finally felt a pang of compassion. “Alright, I’ll bring a team,” he conceded, his voice hesitant. “But things had better be as you say, or you and your sister-in-law will pay the price.” My dimmed eyes gradually brightened, but the very next second, Julian’s communicator received a message. He opened it, and it was unmistakably Ronan’s voice. “Kaelin called you, didn’t she? I knew she would. They were even faking tears just now, and Penny went along with their act, saying they’d be killed by vengeful spirits if I didn’t come back.” “Heh, don’t you think women are scheming? They live here for free, don’t do any work, and then they’re constantly paranoid, playing out their little palace dramas.” “I didn’t fall for it, and you, the esteemed Captain of the Bind-Spirit Unit, shouldn’t be made a fool of either.” Ronan’s words pierced my heart like a dagger. Ronan, for the sake of another woman, had abandoned his own sister whom he’d sworn to cherish for life, and disregarded his wife with whom he’d promised to grow old and die together. But he, too, was reborn! He knew exactly what we would endure! Julian cut the voice message short, his voice grim and low: “From now on, the Bind-Spirit Unit is forbidden from taking calls from Kaelin Luminara. No one is to be dispatched to her location!” “Hmph, Kaelin Luminara,” he sneered, “I would now very much enjoy seeing you and your sister-in-law torn to pieces by vengeful spirits!” As if to validate his words, the moment the call ended, the yin energy in the room surged. The crystal chandelier overhead, under an irresistible force, plummeted to the ground. I lunged forward, shielding Seraphina and Penny. Glass shards pierced my back, and blood droplets stained my white dress. 3 The searing pain brought cold sweat trickling down my face, but I grimly pushed myself up to confirm Seraphina and Penny were unharmed. Seeing they were only shaken, I let out a long, shaky breath. The three of us had been deeply hurt and saddened by Ronan’s words moments before, but the immediate crisis forced us to steel ourselves and face it. Seraphina wiped away her tears, and together we helped Penny to her feet. The three of us stood back-to-back, clasping each other’s hands tightly, scanning our surroundings. The array I had set up was rudimentary, and by now, most of its power had been destroyed. More and more vengeful spirits surged towards us. The sheer oppressive yin energy suffocated us, making every breath a struggle. “Seraphina, I’ll rush out in a moment and draw the spirits away. You take Penny and escape. Go to the Bind-Spirit Unit… no, go find Elias Blackwood!” Father was abroad recuperating and hadn’t returned. Ronan wouldn’t help us, and with Julian there, the Bind-Spirit Unit wouldn’t heed us. Only Elias, who trained under the same master as Father, could possibly deal with these vengeful spirits! Seraphina shook her head, tears streaming: “No, Kaelin, I won’t leave you alone!” “If anyone’s leaving, it’s you first! I’m pregnant, and Penny is so young. We’re a burden, you…” I embraced her tightly, gently patting her trembling body: “Seraphina, listen to me. You’re carrying the first male child our Luminara family has had in generations, and Penny is only three…” “Vengeful spirits love human bodies the most. I’ll just now—” A shrill, piercing voice interrupted me. “Run? You’re too naive! Since we’ve come knocking tonight, we intend to make the most of it! Ronan Luminara injured countless of my kind for one woman, so I’ll make sure to give his women a proper ‘welcome’!” “A pregnant woman… a virgin… and a child! Haha! The taste must be exquisite!” That suffocating, chilling gaze swept over us, inch by agonizing inch. I clutched the few remaining talismans in my pocket, my mind racing to plan a route to draw the spirits away. But before I could act, an invisible force toppled the ancestral patriarch’s tablets. We were flung like rag dolls, slamming into the wall. Seraphina was protected by the frost-white jade; the spirits dared not touch her directly. But Penny was pinned in mid-air, her small limbs forced open. I was arched against the wall in a humiliating posture, my hair ripped away, scalp and all, blood dripping onto the floor. I’d already died once in the previous life. This time, no matter what, I wouldn’t let Seraphina and Penny suffer before my eyes! “A bunch of cowards who wouldn’t dare seek revenge on Ronan Luminara, only daring to prey on helpless women and children!” I spat through trembling teeth, deliberately provoking them. “Cowards in life, cowards in death, always cowards! Hahaha!” Sure enough, the vengeful spirits furiously flung me to the ground. I dared not even breathe, seizing the chance to scramble up and run out. However, Seraphina suddenly shoved Penny into my arms, simultaneously pressing the frost-white jade into my hand. “Kaelin, quickly! Take Penny and go!” Her face was resolute, yet her eyes were filled with an agonizing reluctance to leave her child. I instantly realized what she was about to do. Seraphina was an oracle from an ancient sacred land; she was about to perform a Blood-Oath Sacrifice! Seraphina picked up a shard of glass and sliced open her wrist, blood splattering. I saw the spirits that had been gnawing at her recoil, trembling. Yet, one soul could not withstand a multitude. The overwhelming darkness of spirits poured over her. Seraphina was flung out the window, but she strained with all her might to scream out her last words: “Kaelin, run! Go find Elias Blackwood!” My breath hitched, but the sheer will to survive violently jolted my heart awake. This was Seraphina’s selfless act, a chance for us to escape. I no longer hesitated. Clutching Penny, I bolted. I ran without stopping, charging forward like a madwoman. I placed the frost-white jade around Penny’s neck. The vengeful spirits hot on our heels tore clumps of my hair and scalp, stones relentlessly pelted my back. I fell, then scrambled back up… I heard the tearing sound of my own flesh on my back, smelled the thick coppery scent of blood in the air, but still, I pressed on relentlessly towards Elias’s house. I finally reached Elias’s house, frantically pressing the doorbell, pounding on the front door. “Elias! Help!” “Save my sister-in-law!” Elias, casually sipping a glass of red wine, strolled over to me. Seeing my disheveled and injured state, he merely frowned slightly. But he didn’t rush to help me up as I’d expected. Instead, he looked at me with a disappointed expression. “Kaelin,” he began, his voice flat, “you and your sister-in-law have gone to such lengths, acting like this just to get Ronan home. It’s truly… a spectacle.” “But why involve Penny? To make her suffer for your jealousy?” He spoke, idly sipping from his glass of red wine. I broke down: “Elias, how can you also believe we’re lying?! Can’t you see the injuries on us?!” To my surprise, Elias merely glanced dismissively, then his expression turned to one of ‘I knew it’: “Ronan already informed me that you two would go so far as to injure yourselves to create the illusion of being hurt.” “Julian also called to warn me. It’s all just your petty jealousy, yet you still try to fool an old man like me. Child, as a Luminara, how can you be so disrespectful to your elders?!” With that, he smashed the wine glass on the ground, his eyes burning with anger. I clung to Elias’s leg, desperately trying to explain: “Elias, it’s not like that! The vengeful spirits are relentlessly pursuing us! They’re right behind us!” However, I forgot that Elias’s powerful ward protected this area; the spirits wouldn’t dare enter and had long since retreated. Elias’s anger intensified, and he kicked me away: “Kaelin Luminara, I know my brother cherished you, but you are a woman. You cannot inherit the Luminara family’s legacy!” “Your value lies in being a good wife and mother, in marrying and having children! If you still harbor such absurd ambitions, attempting to contend with Ronan for the family’s inheritance, I will personally attend to this family matter for my brother!” His kick landed with crushing force. I rolled a considerable distance, and combined with my existing injuries, I immediately coughed up several mouthfuls of blood. Yet, I felt the physical agony was but a fraction of the searing pain in my heart. So that’s it… Ronan was convinced I was vying with him for the family fortune. That’s why, even reborn, even knowing it wasn’t a lie, he coldly ignored us. He even cut off our last chance to seek help from others. What a brother! What a fiancé! What an uncle! I wiped the blood from my mouth, struggled to my feet, and stumbled as I picked up the already unconscious Penny. If this was how it was, why should I beg? The world isn’t limited to Luminara purifiers or the Bind-Spirit Unit for dealing with vengeful spirits! It’s not just Ronan Luminara, not just Julian Vance, and certainly not just Elias Blackwood! Couldn’t the Lord of Vengeful Spirits compel all other spirits to bow before him, to submit to his will?

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5. The police insisted my parents come to the station. I shook my head, explaining they were both working out of town and couldn’t make it back. I noticed the looks on Tiffany’s father’s and the principal’s faces shift, clearly to something more calculating. A child whose parents worked elsewhere—wouldn’t she be easy to manipulate? I called my butler, concisely explaining the situation. Then I took off my ruined coat and said to the police, “They’ll have to compensate me for this coat, won’t they?” The officer looked at the bubble tea-soaked coat, nodding. “Absolutely.” “Who spilled the drink on her coat?” the officer asked. Tiffany’s smug expression faltered, her lips trembling. No one spoke up. I simply pointed directly at Tiffany. Tiffany’s father frowned. “It’s just a coat. We’ll pay for it.” He pulled out his wallet, counted a few banknotes, slapped them on the table, and pushed them towards me with an air of condescension. Tiffany mumbled a few times, but didn’t dare speak out. I looked at Tiffany’s father with a faint, amused smile, then pulled out my purchase receipt and handed it to him. His arrogant expression instantly vanished. He stared, eyes wide, at the receipt. “Four… four thousand…” My voice was flat and cold. “Four thousand eight hundred. I bought it last month. No depreciation.” Just then, my butler arrived, accompanied by a solicitor. “If compensation is refused, we will proceed with legal action.” Tiffany’s father, being a local councilman, could certainly afford five thousand. He gritted his teeth. “We’ll pay!” Then he turned and slapped Tiffany hard across the face. I collected the money with a satisfied smile, looking at Tiffany, who was now reeling from the slap. Tiffany dared not speak. She clutched her swollen cheek, all her fury transferring to me. As we walked out of the police station, she pointed at me, her voice trembling with hatred. “You wait!” I met her gaze expressionlessly. Tiffany’s eyes flickered, but she defiantly held my stare. “Alright,” I said. “I’ll wait.” 6. Back at school, the principal called both Tiffany and me into his office. He began with a perfunctory scolding of Tiffany, then spun around to chastise me. “Were you hurt? No, you weren’t! So why didn’t you seek help from the school immediately?” “The school’s teachers would have protected you! Why insist on taking it to the police station? How will others view our school now? What if our enrollment rates are affected next year?” At that moment, the principal’s phone rang. He answered it, his voice immediately becoming obsequious. “Yes, yes, absolutely! You can count on me!” “Don’t worry, sir! I’ll handle everything.” After hanging up, the principal reverted to his stern demeanor. Only this time, he was much gentler with Tiffany and went to great lengths to criticize me. He lectured, “Tiffany merely wanted to have a heart-to-heart with you, a friendly chat. But you insulted her, which made her angry and led her to throw the bubble tea. That’s perfectly natural, completely understandable!” “And you, not only did you show no appreciation, but you verbally abused Tiffany. You even called the police, blowing a small incident out of proportion, causing the school to lose face because of you!” “I’m telling you, you must call your parents here today! And you will apologize to Tiffany in front of the entire school!” I had watched the principal with an impassive face throughout, but at this, I burst into laughter, almost hysterically. That call must have been from Tiffany’s father. Oh, a father in office, who doesn’t have one? I nodded. “Alright, I’ll call my father right now.” I pulled out my phone and, right in front of them, called Mr. Sterling-Hayes. My father answered cheerfully at first, asking how I was, telling me Lily was adapting well, and that she hoped I’d come home soon. But his cheerful chatter was abruptly cut short by my tearful voice. I choked out, “Dad, I’ve been bullied.” My father’s garrulous voice fell silent. From childhood, I had always been an undemanding, high-achieving child. Even though a Sterling-Hayes child didn’t need to be. In fact, among my peers in high society, I was always the one leading the pack. My father would never have imagined that I, of all people, would be bullied here. Mr. Sterling-Hayes’s voice was tight with suppressed rage. “Isabelle, it’s alright. Don’t be afraid. We’re coming right away!” “I’ll call the butler first. You just…” Before he finished, I heard an anxious female voice from the other end of the line. It was Lily. Her voice, tear-choked and hoarse, cried, “Dad! Sister must have been bullied by that group too! Please, go save Sister quickly! It’s all my fault for not warning her…” It was then that Mr. Sterling-Hayes realized Lily had also been bullied at this school, and now, the same group was targeting his eldest daughter. The sounds on the other end of the line dissolved into a cacophony. I faintly heard my mother’s voice as well. Not long after, my call ended, and the principal’s phone rang. I watched, bit by bit, as his expression shifted from bewilderment to sheer terror, followed by a torrent of apologies. Tiffany, confused, watched the principal. Only I, dropping the feigned sob, slowly allowed a smile to bloom on my face. 7. Soon after, officials from higher up began to arrive, then even higher authorities… My father, my mother, they all arrived. The principal trembled like a leaf. Tiffany’s father stood beside him, head bowed, offering endless apologies. My father, meanwhile, sat in the main chair, slowly sipping his tea. Only my mother and I knew this was the ominous calm before his storm of fury. My father spoke. “My two daughters, both of them, suffered varying degrees of bullying under your care.” “And you swept it all under the rug. If Isabelle hadn’t called me this time, we would have remained completely in the dark.” The group began to apologize profusely, especially the principal and Tiffany’s father, their heads practically scraping the floor. Tiffany stared at her father, dumbfounded, weeping incessantly. She probably never imagined such a day would come when she bullied her classmates. I watched these people with cold eyes. Tiffany’s father, who abused his power, was now facing a greater authority. The principal, ever the opportunist, was now confronted by a higher power. My father, having served in politics for many years, never abused his power lightly. He was a man of unimpeachable integrity, which is why he had risen to such a prominent position. This time, if it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t have acted like this. My father was a senior government official, and my mother was the head of a financial conglomerate. That was why I could resolve this situation so easily. But what about ordinary children in a small town? What about Lily before she was found? What recourse did they have? Amidst the chorus of bowing and scraping apologies, I slowly clenched my fists. The matter was resolved swiftly. The principal was dismissed, the local education authority launched a comprehensive review of the school’s conduct, and Tiffany’s father was fired from his post. Tiffany and her entire bullying clique were expelled. As she packed her things to leave the classroom, I, in front of the entire class, delivered a resounding slap across her face. Everyone exchanged bewildered glances, unsure what had happened. Tiffany merely clutched her face, her head bowed, not daring to look at me, let alone retaliate. I withdrew my hand, my voice glacial. “Tiffany, that slap was for Lily.” Tiffany snapped her head up, her eyes wide with shock. She seemed to recall something, shaking her head vigorously. “No! No! Lily… Lily can’t be your sister…” “She was just…” Tiffany trailed off. Just what? Just a poor student whose parents had died? Just a frail girl who had been bullied by you for two years and couldn’t fight back? Tiffany fled in disarray. I watched her retreating back. Tiffany had repeatedly flaunted her power in front of me, saying, “You wait, I’ll find someone to teach you a lesson.” This time, I whispered silently to myself, You wait, Tiffany. Did you think this was the end? Did you think the torment my sister suffered for so long could simply be erased by your escape? Dream on. 8. My parents were busy; they couldn’t stay away from NYC for too long. Before they left, my father asked if I wanted to return with them. I looked at their worried eyes and smiled, shaking my head. “Just one more month,” I said with a smile. “Don’t worry, Mom and Dad. Give my regards to Andy and Lily. Tell them not to worry about me either.” My mother sighed, patting my shoulder. “I know you’re a strong-willed child, and I probably have an idea why you came here.” “Mom trusts you, but if anything happens, you must tell us.” I nodded, smiling as I watched my parents depart in their private car. After a day of rest back at the cottage, I returned to school as usual. The moment I entered the classroom, I was met with a barrage of stares and questions. “Isabelle, how did you do it? You actually got Tiffany expelled! That’s incredible!” “Are you involved with some gang outside of school? Or did they get expelled because you called the police?” “No, that’s not right. Other people called the police before, but since they were minors, nothing much happened…” The incident was, after all, rather unsavory, and with all the various authorities involved, most students didn’t know how it was truly resolved. They only knew that Tiffany and her group had been expelled, and the school suddenly had a new principal. I shook my head, ignoring their chatter. I simply settled into my seat and resumed working on practice problems. Victoria secretly watched me for a long time before finally gathering the courage to ask, “Isabelle, are you alright…?” I paused, then shook my head, speaking softly. “I’m fine.” She nodded, adjusting her glasses. “Mid-term exams are coming soon. You should really focus on studying.” I couldn’t help but smile, telling her, “You too. Work hard.” Victoria’s face flushed visibly. She gave a little cough, as if to compose herself, then bent her head to her own studies. The first mid-term exam was fast approaching. After a few days of practice tests, I began skipping classes frequently. After my parents’ intervention, the new class teacher and principal discreetly turned a blind eye to my absences. I had a reason for skipping classes. The evening self-study session the day before the mid-term exams, a boy suddenly exclaimed. “Oh my God, do you know what happened to Tiffany?” “Huh? Didn’t she get expelled?” “Yeah… After she got expelled, her life went to hell. I heard someone beat her up, and her dad’s gambling everywhere now, can’t pay his debts. He just married her off to some guy.” “Goodness, to think of how arrogant she used to be… it’s quite a fall, isn’t it?” “What’s there to sigh about? Have you forgotten how many people she bullied? Remember Lily Dawson from our class, she was bullied so badly she got depressed and transferred schools!” “You’re right…” I propped my chin on my hand, my eyes lowered, watching the pen twirl between my fingers, listening quietly to their discussion without speaking. I opened my phone and clicked on the contact named “Lily.” I concisely updated her on their current situation. After a long pause, I received her reply. “Thank you, Sister.” 9. I secured the top score in the entire school for the mid-term exams. The entire school erupted in shock. Especially my classmates. Our class was practically at the bottom of the school’s rankings, so for a student from it to suddenly achieve the top score was astonishing. Moreover, I had been frequently skipping classes lately and hadn’t exactly been seen as a diligent student. Students from other classes only knew me as the transfer student who had fought with the school’s delinquents and gotten them all expelled by calling the police. Adding to that, I was in a low-ranking class, and the top students from the advanced classes felt their pride stung. Consequently, rumors that I had cheated to get the top score began to spread like wildfire. Victoria sat beside me, staring at her own report card showing a rank of 236. I could almost see the veins bulging on her forehead. Just as I was about to offer some comfort, Victoria suddenly tore her report card into shreds with a violent rip, then buried her face in her arms on the desk, sobbing uncontrollably. Everyone was startled. Several girls who were close to Victoria quickly gathered around her, trying to console her. They offered tissues, fetched water, bustling about for a while until Victoria finally lifted her head, her eyes swollen and red-rimmed. She glanced at me, then was led away by her friends to the hallway for a heart-to-heart. It wasn’t until the bell for the next study session rang that Victoria returned, her eyes still puffy. I looked at her and asked, “Would you like me to go over any of the questions you got wrong?” Victoria snapped her head up, staring at me with a strange expression. Her skin was sallow, and her face was dotted with acne. Yet, her desk was spotless, every book neatly categorized and arranged. I could see that she was genuinely striving to achieve something, which is why I offered. But Victoria shook her head, saying it wasn’t necessary. I understood. I wasn’t particularly keen on being overly helpful; if she declined, that was that. My phone vibrated numerous times in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw a familiar sequence of numbers: thirteen missed calls. My gaze froze on the caller ID. Andy. My non-biological brother, who had watched over me for seventeen years. From childhood, I never feared my parents, nor anyone in my social circle. Only Andy. It could be said that my academic achievements, my courage, and even my personality had all been shaped under his rigorous guidance. And my move to Oakhaven this time had, naturally, been kept a secret from Andy, who was studying abroad. Now, after a month, my secret was clearly out. I took a deep breath, closed my phone, and pretended not to have seen it. Then, I silently prayed Andy wouldn’t storm the school. 10. On Monday, as the top student in the school, I was to deliver a speech at the assembly. I wore my freshly issued school uniform, my hair tied back in a neat ponytail, looking like any other student who belonged to this school. I walked to the high platform. I delivered a formal, practically foolproof speech. The auditorium was utterly silent. Until I finished my last sentence, just before stepping down, a murmur suddenly rose from the audience. “She cheated to get first place!” This single sentence, like a pebble dropped into still water, instantly ignited a torrent of whispers. “Oh, really? Is that true?” “It must be! I heard she never studies in class, and she skips all the time.” “I also saw her being picked up and dropped off by a fancy car! She must be a sugar baby!” “Yeah! I think I saw that too! And her clothes and bags were so expensive! She could only afford them if some old man was paying for her!” “Maybe she’s connected to the street gangs, that’s why she could get Tiffany and them expelled.” “She probably pulled strings to get into our school, and then cheated to get first place. How shameless…” The murmurs grew louder, the words sharper, more biting. Those spreading rumors, those repeating them, those simply enjoying the spectacle, those stirring the pot… thousands of eyes below fixed on me, all waiting for my reaction. They anticipated seeing me embarrassed, angry, sad, or ashamed. I could even clearly see the widening smiles on the faces of some of the more malicious onlookers. However, I disappointed them. I maintained my perfectly polite, detached smile, devoid of any discernible emotion, and walked off the stage. The teachers quickly moved to restore order, and the murmuring slowly faded. But gossip, once ignited, does not simply vanish because teachers tell students to be quiet. On the contrary, after that speech, the rumors about me intensified. They claimed I cheated, that I was a kept woman, that my designer clothes were fake, and so on. Some students from other classes even came to peer through our classroom window, openly discussing me in loud whispers. I ignored them, merely frowning and closing the window. Perhaps because they had witnessed my confrontation with Tiffany, my own classmates mostly refrained from open discussion. Victoria even helped me by scolding the students from other classes who were gawking through the window. After she finished scolding them, she turned to look at me, her gaze fixed, seemingly searching for some emotion on my face. I guessed she hoped to see gratitude, perhaps even a hint of sorrow, pain, or shame. Unfortunately, I maintained my composed, almost aloof expression. This seemingly stung Victoria. She met my gaze for two seconds, a flicker of dissatisfaction on her face. She couldn’t help but speak. “Isabelle, don’t you have anything to explain?” I propped my chin on my hand, my voice faint. “Explain what? Explain that the people spreading rumors in the audience were the same ‘friends’ who comforted you and chatted with you in the hallway that day?” Victoria’s composure faltered, then she quickly feigned calmness. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “I… I need to work on my problems.” She avoided my gaze, lowering her head and scribbling aimlessly on her paper. I smiled, a hint of faint mockery in my voice. “Victoria, you look truly pathetic.” This remark seemed to strike a nerve. Victoria’s head snapped up, and she retorted sharply, her voice nearing a shriek, “I am not! If I hadn’t cheated, I worked so much harder than you! Why didn’t I score higher than you?” “You’re just relying on your money! If I had money and was pretty, I’d be much better than you!” “Why do you look down on me?!” Her voice was shrill, almost hoarse. Only when she finished did I speak. “Don’t attribute your misfortunes to me. Did I make you poor? Did I make your grades worse than mine? I’m first, you’re two hundred places behind. Surpass them before you even talk about me.” “I don’t look down on you,” I said with a smile. “I’ve never even truly noticed you.” “You’re not worth it.” Victoria was speechless. She broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. This time, no one came to comfort her. Her crying annoyed me. I turned to ponder how to resolve this situation and return home at the appropriate time. Suddenly, two familiar figures appeared at the classroom door. I froze, instinctively standing up, and called out to the person at the doorway. “Brother.” 11. Andy’s face was grim. It had been years since I’d seen him look so utterly furious, and a shiver of apprehension ran down my spine. Thankfully, Lily, standing behind Andy, came forward, her eyes red-rimmed, and grasped my hand, calling me ‘Sister.’ I couldn’t help but offer her a gentle smile, stroking her hair. At this point, the entire class had recognized Lily, and the room erupted into chaos. “Oh my God, what’s going on?!” “Lily Dawson and Isabelle Sterling-Hayes are sisters?! So Isabelle came here specifically to get revenge for Lily?” “My heavens! This is intense!” “No, wait. Lily used to look so poor. How can she be sisters with Isabelle?” “Who knows! Is it just me, or did anyone else notice that boy? He looks like their brother! He’s so handsome!” Andy took my hand, squeezing my palm in a disciplinary gesture. Then, he swept his gaze around the classroom, and towards the many onlookers in the hallway, raising an eyebrow. “Isabelle’s transfer here was indeed for a specific purpose. Now that her business is largely concluded, she’s here today to bid you all farewell.” “We’re taking her back to NYC.” “I’ve heard all the rumors circulating in the school. Perhaps our family’s chauffeur-driven car appears extravagant to you, but wealthy families also have daughters.” “Isabelle’s academic achievements are well-known in NYC. Her grades, painstakingly cultivated over fifteen years with our family’s substantial investment, have now, in your mouths, become ‘cheating.’” “Should anyone continue to spread baseless rumors, we shall meet in court.” With that, Andy pulled us away. Before leaving, I turned my head to glance at Victoria. She sat at her desk, tears streaming down her face, staring blankly at us as we departed. The rest of the class continued their discussions, gasps, and general pandemonium. But all of that no longer concerned us. 12. Upon returning to NYC. Andy gave me a thorough dressing-down, but then, with a softening heart, he took Lily and me out for a lavish meal. Lily clung to me, so I tutored her daily. She insisted we had to get into the same university. Mr. and Mrs. Sterling-Hayes treated all three of us equally, without a hint of favoritism. Lily became increasingly cheerful and vibrant, a stark contrast to the timid, slender girl she once was. In fact, she even became a little bit plump from my constant feeding. A year later, she successfully gained admission to the same university as me. Together, we embarked on our new university life. Before we left, I asked Lily if she still felt troubled by the past. She shook her head, a genuine smile gracing her lips. “Sister, all those people received their due punishment. And I’ve mostly forgotten about it now. It’s time to embrace a new life.” “And, the most, most, most fortunate thing is that fate made you my sister!” I smiled too, taking her hand as we stepped into the university campus.

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In my previous life, my husband, Arthur Vance, was sixty-two when he was diagnosed with late-stage Alzheimer’s. He transformed from a refined, cultured intellectual into a disheveled old man, prone to outbursts, prone to violent rages, yelling vile obscenities at me. At those times, only a photograph of his first love could calm him. So, our daughter, Lillian, brought Arthur’s first love, Serena Reed, home, telling me to care for her. “Dad only recognizes Aunt Serena now. Just think of it as helping him get better. They’re both so old, what could possibly happen between them?” For Arthur’s sake, I agreed. I served them, fetching their meals, cleaning up after them, bustling about like a live-in housekeeper. I endured this life for three long years, only to be told I had terminal liver cancer. I writhed in agony on my sickbed, but Lillian, busy with work, never once came to visit. In my final moments, I dragged myself home. There, I saw my grandson, Benjamin, holding a cake, shouting to Arthur’s first love, “Happy birthday, Grandma Serena!” And in the place of honor, Arthur’s eyes were clear, his gaze on Serena filled with profound adoration. He said, “I’ll marry you once Elara is gone. She’s had me for all these years, I owe her nothing. The rest of my life, I only want to make it up to you.” There was no Alzheimer’s. It was all a cruel deception, and I was merely their unwitting accomplice, their live-in maid. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Lillian brought Serena home for a grand welcome dinner. 1 On the spinning lazy Susan, five large crabs lay piled. By the time it reached my spot, they were gone. My husband, Arthur, wore an unnatural smile, his movements clumsy as he meticulously shelled a crab for Serena. My daughter, Lillian, solicitously introduced the restaurant’s signature dishes to Serena, asking if she wished for anything else. From start to finish, no one noticed the empty plate before me. No one asked what I wanted to eat. This feeling of being overlooked, of being treated as invisible, I had experienced it countless times in my previous life. Arthur and I had been married for forty years. When he was sixty-two, he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. I dedicated myself to caring for him, yet he frequently left me bruised and battered. My eyes were perpetually shadowed, my face swollen, the backs of my hands covered in scratches. Arthur’s hateful words during his fits of rage were like stale garbage, reeking of putrefaction. One of Alzheimer’s symptoms is memory loss. Simply put, Arthur forgot me. It was only by showing him a photograph of his first love that I could avoid his wrath. How ironic. My husband, afflicted with a disease, forgot me, his wife, but remembered another woman. Lillian suggested bringing Arthur’s first love, Serena Reed, home, ostensibly to aid his recovery. So, I found myself caring for the ailing Arthur while also serving the perfectly healthy Serena. During the most grueling period, I wasted away from a hundred and twenty pounds to a mere ninety. If I dared to complain about the hardship, Lillian would point to Arthur, who was eerily calm around Serena, and retort, “Why doesn’t Dad cry or make a fuss when Aunt Serena is around? Maybe you’re just not trying hard enough?” I endured that life for three agonizing years, through over a thousand days and nights. In the end, I withered away from disease, from terminal liver cancer, beyond all medical help. “Mom, what are you spacing out for? Hurry up and bring the dishes!” Lillian’s voice snapped me out of my memories. I looked up. The embarrassed waiter stood beside me, tray in hand, quickly saying there was no need. Lillian, however, waved him off with a dismissive air, grandly pointing at me. “She sits by the door so it’s easy for her to serve the dishes. It’s always been that way.” She then turned her gaze back to me. “Mom, hurry up! The waiter’s arms must be tired.” Suddenly, all eyes turned to me. Their expressions were normal, none of them seemed to find anything wrong with Lillian’s words. I remembered how, in my previous life, when Serena first came to live with us, Lillian’s family had not only thrown a welcome dinner but also arranged a family vacation for Serena. I had spent an entire night packing luggage for everyone. But when it was time to board the train, the tour guide informed us. Lillian had purchased five tickets, and all the activities were for five people. But there were six of us, and it was too late to buy an additional ticket. The group discussed it, and finally, they told me, “Mom, we’re going to the beach this time. It’s not good for your joints. You should stay home.” I, along with my packed luggage, was left standing at the train station entrance. This wasn’t an isolated incident. I was always the one left behind. The waiter placed a soup tureen on the lazy Susan and discreetly withdrew. Lillian, still annoyed by my earlier reaction, pressed on. “Mom, what’s wrong with you? Why didn’t you serve the dishes when I told you to? You’re sitting by the door precisely for that reason.” Without a word, I filled my small bowl with soup and flung it, with deliberate aim, at Lillian. 2 The scalding soup made Lillian shriek. She sprang to her feet, frantically shaking her clothes. “What are you doing! Are you insane?!” Everyone was stunned by the scene, staring at me in disbelief. I calmly sat back down, watching her hysterical reaction. “I’m educating a disloyal daughter. What’s the matter?” Lillian started to retort, but my son-in-law tugged her arm, making her sit. Serena spoke, her voice laced with disapproval. “Elara, there’s no need for such clear boundaries between family. Why quarrel with a child?” Arthur, who had been eerily quiet, suddenly began to hurl rice at me. It splattered all over me, the soup-soaked grains leaving ugly stains on my clothes. One, two, three times. I abruptly stood up, dumped the remaining rice into the hot soup, and placed the tureen directly in front of Arthur. “You like playing, don’t you? Play with this. It’s even more fun with water.” Arthur’s motion to throw something else visibly froze, his eyes wide with fear. The atmosphere grew silent once more. Serena immediately shielded Arthur. “Elara, that soup is scalding! What if you scalded Arthur?” Lillian pushed me away, clearly terrified I might do something else. “Yes, Mom! You scared Dad!” I looked impassively at Arthur’s feigned dementia. In truth, his acting was terrible. Yet, in my previous life, how had I been fooled for so long? “His condition fluctuates. The medication he’s on must not be effective. I’ll make an appointment with the chief physician at the city’s top hospital to get him re-evaluated.” “I object!” Lillian blurted out without thinking. “Dad’s already so old. Constantly moving him around for different doctors isn’t good for his health.” “I’ve made my decision. No one’s objection will change it.” I looked at my panicked daughter, at the subtly uneasy Serena, and at Arthur, who was still feigning confusion beside her. So, they were afraid. After Arthur was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, I had resolved to care for him for the rest of my life. Even when he lashed out with fists and feet, I never flinched. I saw him as my responsibility. But it was only at the last moment of my life that I discovered it had all been a lie. I was the sole prey in their cruel game. My daughter, Lillian, knew everything, yet shamelessly helped them deceive me. Only I remained in the dark, living tirelessly for their benefit, like a mere servant. This time, I’d watch them struggle to keep up their act! The welcome dinner ended in disarray. Back at home, Lillian poured water for Serena, then for Arthur, but none for me. She glanced towards the guest room. “Mom, what’s going on? Didn’t I tell you to clean it earlier? Aunt Serena is moving in today.” I replied, my voice cool. “Whoever invited her cleans it. Lillian, I am not a housekeeper.” Lillian choked on her words. Beside her, Serena offered a serene smile. “Lillian, don’t worry about it. It doesn’t look dirty at all. It’s perfectly habitable.” I patted my knees and stood up, offering Lillian a smirk. “See? It’s perfectly habitable. You’re just making a mountain out of a molehill.” I turned and walked into the master bedroom. This small, eighty-eight-square-meter apartment was assigned to me by the factory where I worked. Arthur’s university had allotted him a much larger apartment, which he had instead given to Serena. Our old apartment had three rooms. Arthur and I each had one, and the third was a guest room. In my previous life, when Serena moved in, Lillian had demanded I clean the master bedroom thoroughly. I had complied. But Serena insisted the bed frame be dismantled and washed piece by piece. The cabinets had to be wiped with a damp cloth, then again with a dry one. The new curtains, the drinking glasses, the bathmat by the bathroom door—if anything wasn’t to her liking, it had to be replaced. I cleaned and cleaned, again and again, yet no one ever asked if I was tired. The next day, I was woken by the sounds of crashing. Arthur, in a “fit,” had thrown pots and pans all over the kitchen. Dark liquid splattered the walls, and the smell of soy sauce permeated the air. The entire living room was almost impassable. Serena, standing in the only clean corner, looked at me, her gaze pleading. “Elara, Arthur is having a fit. I can’t control him… I’ll take him to Lillian’s house later. Can you clean up the apartment?” In my previous life, I would have rushed forward to soothe Arthur and calm his “fit.” But now, I calmly watched Arthur’s performance, making no move. “The cleaning service’s number is on the table. If you’re not too busy, just call them. They’ll be here soon.” I refused without hesitation and went to the bathroom to wash up. When I emerged, Arthur and Serena had already left, leaving behind a chaotic mess. I was unconcerned. I grabbed my bag and left, heading straight for the hospital. In my previous life, during Arthur’s third year of feigned illness, I had collapsed at home from severe back pain. After being rushed to the hospital, I was told I had terminal liver cancer and only a month left to live. Now, reborn, how could I allow my body to deteriorate like that again? After receiving my lab results, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was only mild hepatitis. This time, I would not die such a miserable death as I had in my previous life. 3 Lillian called me over a dozen times. I didn’t answer. After leaving the hospital, I immediately rushed to another location, to find a suitable place for Arthur’s future. As dusk settled, I returned home. The once chaotic living room was spotless, the air filled with a fresh lemon scent. That saying was indeed true: housework is always the job of those who can’t stand the mess. Arthur sat on the sofa, holding Benjamin, watching television. Lillian, peeling peanuts for Serena, laughed and chatted animatedly. A perfect picture of a happy, harmonious family. I averted my gaze and calmly walked towards my bedroom. Lillian called out to me, her tone displeased. “Mom, I called you so many times, why didn’t you answer? You ran out without even cleaning up the house. What old woman is as idle as you?” She then added, “Serena and I took Dad for a check-up today. The report is here. The doctor said all of Dad’s changes are normal; it’s just how the disease is. You just need to have more patience.” I glanced at the medical report. The doctor’s signature at the bottom made it look legitimate. If I hadn’t already known their deception from my previous life, I might not have been able to tell the truth from the lie. I threw the report onto the table. “Ignoring a top-tier hospital, dragging your father around to various clinics—what were you thinking?” Before Lillian could speak, I pushed open my bedroom door and entered. I instinctively glanced at the wardrobe, noticing that it had clearly been disturbed. My heart sank. Something was missing. I stormed out of the room and confronted Arthur. “Give me back what you took!” “Mom, what are you doing? Benny wants to watch TV. Get out of the way!” Lillian frowned, yelling loudly. I ignored her, my gaze fixed on Arthur and Serena. In my previous life, when I was gravely ill and immobile, Serena wore my lost family heirloom, claiming it was her own family treasure. She became an online sensation through it, scamming people out of huge sums of money. I had pointed to the pin, insisting it was mine. But no one believed me. I knew Arthur had taken it; he had given it to Serena. The first thing I did after being reborn was contact a local historical society. Tomorrow was our scheduled meeting. But I never imagined they would act so quickly. I forced myself to remain calm. “Arthur Vance, give me back my property, or I’ll call the police right now.” Arthur clutched his ears, hiding behind Serena, muttering incoherently. “Tiger woman hitting people! Tiger woman hitting people!” Anyone could see he was terrified of me. Serena, her eyes filled with feigned concern, hugged him tightly. Lillian, meanwhile, glared at me, infuriated. “Mom, is this how you usually treat Dad? Look how scared you’ve made him!” “Shut up!” I roared, unable to contain myself. Lillian stared at me, stunned. “Arthur Vance!” I yelled. “I’m not joking with you. If you don’t give it back, I’ll call the police immediately!” Serena’s heavily made-up face visibly paled. “Elara, let’s not involve the police before we understand the situation, alright?” I pulled out my phone and, right in front of them, dialed the emergency number. But before the call connected, a sharp pain shot through my forehead. Blood blurred my phone screen, and the glass I had been holding shattered on the floor. I clutched my head and stumbled to the ground, vaguely seeing Arthur’s motion as he threw the glass. Lillian, clutching Benjamin, hid to the side, shouting from a distance, “Mom, Mom, are you alright?”

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The little granddaughter of the family down Cherry Blossom Lane vanished. The culprits were quickly apprehended. But the masterminds, wielding immense power, not only walked free but also threatened the elderly couple. In desperation, Mr. Martin knocked on the door of The Acacia Bloom. The next day, the police came looking for me. Dominic Blackwood, one of the primary culprits, was reduced to a severed head, casually discarded at the precinct house entrance. 01 When the police knocked on the door of The Acacia Bloom, I was changing the water for the blossoms in my shop. These fresh blooms were delicate; a moment’s neglect could see them completely wilted. Plucking a few withered leaves from a stem, I motioned for the officers to come in. The lead officer, I recognized him. Lucas Hayes, I believe. He was the detective in charge of that notorious case that had dominated the headlines recently. I had to admit, Lucas Hayes was a surprisingly courteous officer. He stood quietly to the side, allowing me to finish my work without a word. “Welcome to The Acacia Bloom, officers. Perhaps a bouquet of golden acacia?” I offered an apologetic smile for the delay in greeting them, holding up the radiant, golden blossoms in my hand. The cheerful, vibrant acacia was in full bloom, yet it inexplicably made Lucas frown. Composing himself, Lucas’s scrutinizing gaze settled on me. “No need to be nervous, ma’am. We’re just conducting a routine inquiry. Do you happen to recall anything about the Martin family down the lane?” A vibrant, lovable little girl surfaced in my mind – so innocent, so full of life. The shop had a large mirror. In its reflection, I watched my lips slowly curve into a smile, then just as gradually, draw into a grim line. I heard my own voice, edged with an unmistakable sharpness. “Didn’t you close the case? Why are you still asking questions?” 02 Months ago, the little granddaughter of the Martin family down Cherry Blossom Lane disappeared. Her name was Lily. Despite their meager circumstances, Lily was incredibly mature for her age, yet she possessed a rare, vibrant spark of childhood joy. Residents of Acacia Lane loved to tease Lily, adults chuckling as they pressed all sorts of candies and treats into the little girl’s hands. Each time, Lily would blush crimson with gratitude, then skip away, bouncing on her toes in a corner she believed no one could see. In this impoverished, grime-ridden lane, where despair and anxiety hung heavy in the air, the little girl was a rare sanctuary, a pure spot in everyone’s hearts. So, when news of Lily’s disappearance spread, everyone searched tirelessly, driven by concern, combing nearly every nook and cranny of the neighborhood. Everything seemed to proceed smoothly. Her teacher confirmed Lily had left school with friends, and even called them in for us. The girls, close friends of Lily’s, cooperated, pinpointing the exact spot where they had last seen her. A small diner nearby had a security camera aimed directly at that area. The footage dutifully revealed: at that very spot, a black car had picked up Lily. The license plate was crystal clear. With the police’s cooperation, every clue unraveled like silk from a cocoon. When enraged neighbors and police officers stormed the grand suburban estate, the scene inside horrified everyone. Drunken trust-fund brats lay sprawled everywhere in the living room, some still muttering incoherently. Their faces were contorted, yet they were dressed impeccably, as if their suppressed bestial natures had just been unleashed. It was sickening. And Lily. She lay on a massive square dining table, her body covered in gruesome purple bruises, vile, unidentifiable fluids oozing from her skin onto the polished surface. Lily was dead. And before her death, she had endured unspeakable torment. Every single person present had tears in their eyes. The police, bound by rules, refrained from administering vigilante justice, but their method of dragging the men from the floor to the patrol cars was anything but gentle. The subsequent events unfolded as everyone hoped. Media reports ignited public outrage. Countless voices condemned these monsters, demanding their deaths. The case was transferred to the Metropolitan Superior Court, where prosecutors initiated proceedings. The chain of evidence was remarkably complete: witnesses, physical evidence, even residual fluids in Lily’s body yielded DNA from at least three individuals. The first-instance verdict: death sentences for all. People mourned, and people cheered. They grieved for the lost life of the little girl, yet rejoiced that justice, though slow, was seemingly inescapable. Lily had been abandoned by her parents as a child, living with her elderly grandparents. After the tragedy, a slick lawyer in a sharp suit approached the Martin couple at the end of the lane, offering them a colossal sum in exchange for a statement of forgiveness. It was indeed a fortune, enough to ensure the elderly couple lived out their days in comfort. But Mr. Martin resolutely refused. Mrs. Martin chased the man from their home with a broom. Someone from the east house ‘accidentally’ spilled a bucket of water. Someone from the west house ‘mistakenly’ dropped an egg. The impeccably dressed lawyer, by the time he left the lane, was a disheveled mess, his expensive suit splattered with grime. Yet, he still snarled threats of retribution. No one paid it any mind. Until, in a single horrifying instant, everything reversed. 03 “You said the security footage… what happened to it?” Mr. Martin, well into his seventies, his hair and beard grizzled, trembled uncontrollably with rage. The diner owner, a middle-aged man, nervously rubbed his greasy hands on his apron, unable to meet the old man’s gaze. Mrs. Martin, trembling, reached out to strike him, but was gently restrained by the apologetic officer. “The cameras… they just happened to be malfunctioning those few days. All the footage… it’s gone…” the diner owner peeked out from behind the officer, stammering. Lucas’s face was etched with disgust. He and his fellow officers equally disdained such people, yet professional duty compelled them to stand as a shield. Without the footage, a crucial link in the evidence chain was missing. And a chilling voice seemed to whisper to them that this was only the beginning. The elderly couple’s faces were ashen. They clutched Lucas’s hands, gripping him with desperate, slightly trembling force, as if seeking an anchor in their storm. “Officer, those animals… they’ll get what’s coming to them, right?” Lucas didn’t know how to respond. He nodded silently, unsure if he was trying to reassure them or himself. But even if Lucas remained silent, someone else would speak for him. The diner owner bit his lip, hesitating before he spoke: “You have no idea what terrifying giants those people are behind the scenes. Let it go. Lily is gone, but you’re still alive. Think of yourselves.” Everyone present could see the owner wasn’t a bad man; he was merely trying to give the couple well-intentioned advice. Yet, they couldn’t help but glare at him. Clearly, the elderly couple had no intention of heeding his advice. They insisted on appealing, determined to fight for justice for Lily even if it cost them their last breath. Things began to spiral downwards. Evidence vanished. Witnesses recanted their statements. The once-clear chain of evidence was systematically blurred, then erased. Security cameras coincidentally malfunctioned or disappeared. The black car that took Lily became a pile of wreckage in the suburbs. The children who walked home with Lily were silenced by their parents, terrified to utter a single word. Her teacher also changed her story, claiming Lily left school alone and was, in fact, a manipulative, deceitful child who craved male attention. Overnight, public opinion turned. The online community, once champions for the Martins, were swayed by this fabricated ‘truth,’ led astray by a colossal army of paid trolls and self-appointed arbiters of truth, spewing venomous insults at the victim. ” ‘Well, well, well. Looks like some ‘little darlings’ just bring trouble, doesn’t it?’ ” ” ‘Told you not to jump to conclusions. Now look, the tables have turned! You all look like fools now, don’t you?’ ” ” ‘Honestly, good riddance. Disgusting.’ ” Many in the lane received stern warnings. Cherry Blossom Lane housed the poor; losing a job was a catastrophe worse than death itself. So, everyone shunned the elderly couple, avoiding them like street beggars or carriers of a virulent disease, their eyes filled with a mix of pity and revulsion. What truly broke the elderly couple was the court’s final ruling. The Metropolitan Superior Court closed the case that day. The appeal ruling: two were given life sentences, three received ten-year prison terms, and the remaining few were acquitted. Among the acquitted were those whose DNA was found in Lily’s body. They, the true masterminds, had brazenly escaped the grasp of the law. Even those who seemingly received sentences could, through ‘good behavior’ and other manipulations, easily return to their glittering, opulent lives once the public outrage subsided. A colossal, unseen hand toyed with the elderly couple, manipulating them at will. When the lawyer had first tried intimidation and bribery, Mr. Martin hadn’t wavered. When the diner owner offered his well-meaning advice, Mr. Martin hadn’t wavered. But now, his friends, one by one, were threatened and harmed, then reluctantly, sympathetically, distanced themselves from him. Mrs. Martin received repeated death threats. A car nearly ran her down, almost crippling her on her way home from the market. She was still in the hospital, unconscious. Their windows were maliciously shattered, red paint was splashed across their doorway, and countless anonymous calls bombarded their phone with harassment and abuse. The police were actively trying to help, but arresting the small-time instigators was futile. It did nothing to shake the powerful families behind the scenes. Mr. Martin was afraid, but he was not resigned. The old man, who had lived a simple, honest life, couldn’t comprehend why evil people weren’t facing their just consequences. “Heaven is blind,” he’d murmured. Yet Dominic Blackwood, the mastermind, merely gazed at him with arrogant disdain, like a colossal beast observing an insignificant ant. ” ‘Just a common little girl. She died. So what? And they still dare to come after me?’ ” ” ‘Not just them. I’ll systematically crush and drive away everyone you hold dear, until you’re on your knees, begging for mercy.’ ” 04 It was so close. Truly, Mr. Martin was almost ready to give up. But then, someone told him: “Go to The Acacia Bloom at the end of the lane. Ask for a bouquet of golden acacia. Someone there will help you.” And so, the grizzled old man stepped into a flower shop for the first time in his life. Not to buy a rose for a loved one. But to demand justice for a victim. I smiled, extending the radiant, golden blossoms. It was like handing over a torch in the longest night, its flame flickering, yet resolute. The next day, a news report sent shockwaves across the city. Dominic Blackwood was dead. The all-powerful Blackwood heir, the Blackwood monster who brutalized men and women alike, the mastermind of the case – he was dead. His head had been severed, wrapped in a black plastic bag, and carelessly tossed at the precinct house entrance. A passing sanitation worker, thinking it was trash, bent to pick it up. The strange shape and chilling weight startled them, sending them sprawling to the ground. The bag fell from their grasp, and the head tumbled out. Dominic Blackwood’s twisted, lifeless eyes stared directly at the precinct house doors. That mouth, which had spouted outrageous lies at press conferences, twisting truth into falsehood, and spewed vile curses and threats at the elderly Martins, was now slightly agape, as if attempting to beg for mercy. As for his body, the police still hadn’t found it. Such a gruesome death instantly screamed ‘vendetta’ to everyone. And his most obvious adversary, everyone knew, was old Mr. Martin down the lane. And I, was the only person Mr. Martin had contacted the day before Dominic Blackwood’s death. That’s why the police came looking for me. But I was just a small flower shop owner. All I did was ask Mr. Martin if he wanted a bouquet of golden acacia when he came to my shop. What could I possibly know? I put on an expression of feigned confusion, giving Lucas a half-smile. “So, Detective Hayes, you suspect me of murder?” Lucas and his partner froze, seemingly taken aback by my bluntness. “No, not at all. We’re simply following procedure, conducting a routine inquiry,” Lucas replied gently. There was no evidence pointing to me, so their demeanor was, relatively speaking, quite friendly. I nodded, openly answering all their questions. The shop had surveillance cameras. They could confirm I was at The Acacia Bloom at the time of Dominic Blackwood’s death. This brief interlude soon ended. Lucas and his team left the flower shop. Before leaving, Lucas seemed to sense something, abruptly turning back. His eyes met my bright smile. After a moment’s hesitation, Lucas spoke. “If you recall anything potentially relevant, please, don’t hesitate to inform us.” I nodded, my smile deepening. “Of course.” 05 Dominic Blackwood’s death sent the Blackwood family into a furious rage. Mrs. Blackwood, dripping with jewels, screamed obscenities in the precinct house, her impeccably maintained face contorted into a monstrous mask of fury. ” ‘Those little nobodies died. So what? Are they comparable to my son? If you don’t find the killer, you can all kiss your jobs goodbye!’ ” No one dared to contradict her. For a colossal power like the Blackwood family, forcing a low-level employee out of a job was effortlessly simple, even within the judicial system. Before such individuals, what was called ‘law,’ what was called ‘rules,’ seemed to be mere empty words, things to be casually bypassed and trampled upon. I saw the young officer in the corner clench his fist. Meanwhile, I gently patted Mr. Martin’s trembling hand, offering quiet reassurance. Unsure if it was excitement over Dominic’s death or anger at the Blackwood family’s recent words, Mr. Martin’s face held a complex expression. After a long moment, he finally sighed. However, compared to the Blackwood family and Mr. Martin, two other individuals reacted even more vehemently to the news. Brendan White and Marcus Shaw – the two remaining masterminds. Ever since Dominic Blackwood’s head was discovered, these two had been on the verge of emotional collapse, even developing mild psychological issues. The two young men cried and begged their families to further pressure the police, leaving Lucas and his team in utter exasperation. Just a few days later, Lucas arrived at The Acacia Bloom, dark circles shadowing his eyes. The handsome man now looked disheveled and worn. Lucas claimed he was just browsing, all while subtly surveying the flower shop. I knew Lucas had never abandoned his suspicions about me. He was like a bloodhound on a scent, feigning nonchalance as he probed his quarry. After a long while, Lucas seemed to deflate. He chatted idly with me, subtly steering the conversation towards the case and the Martins, complaining about the pressure the powerful families were exerting on him. ” ‘We were making breakthroughs in the case, but they kept pressuring us, forcing us to work around the clock. That’s why I look like this.’ ” As Lucas spoke, his eyes subtly darted to me, scrutinizing my face for the slightest flicker of emotion. I saw through Lucas’s game, but chose not to expose him. Instead, I smiled and poured him a cup of floral tea. Petals swirled in the tea, creating gentle ripples with the slightest tremor. “This tea isn’t poisoned, is it?” Lucas suddenly asked, then, without waiting for my reply, took a large, smiling gulp. I shook my head, feigning the timid air of a small shop owner afraid of trouble. “Me? Poison a police officer? What a thought!” Lucas gave me a knowing smile. ” ‘So, you wouldn’t dare touch an officer, but you’d go after those spoiled rich kids, huh?’ ” It sounded like a jest, yet felt like a test. “Detective Hayes, do you know why this place is called Acacia Lane?” I didn’t answer Lucas’s question. Instead, I looked into his slightly fatigued eyes and spoke. Finding no crack in my composure, Lucas’s face registered disappointment, and he lost interest in my question. Just then, his phone rang. Lucas answered, cast me an apologetic glance, and hurried out. I stood at the flower shop door, watching him leave. An unidentifiable emotion welled up inside me. Like admiring a struggling prey, yet also pitying a wailing child.

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My mother’s chemotherapy had failed, and her final wish was for our family to share a last, peaceful dinner together. But on that very evening, Alexander’s new partner, visibly pregnant, brazenly showed up at our doorstep, intent on provocation. The shock sent my mother’s condition spiraling, and she passed away that very night. I called him relentlessly, but my calls went unanswered. It wasn’t until I had already made all the arrangements for my mother’s funeral that his call finally came through. “The girl is young, still naive, you and Mom shouldn’t let her bother you,” he said, his tone annoyingly nonchalant. “She’s emotional right now with the pregnancy, so please don’t go looking for trouble with her.” He paused. “If you can’t accept her, I’ll make sure she doesn’t appear before you again. But she is the mother of my child, and I need to spend time with her. From now on, I’ll be home with you on weekdays, and I’ll be with her on weekends.” His voice held no room for discussion, no hint of compromise. I didn’t argue, didn’t raise my voice. I simply hummed in acknowledgment. The next moment, I was submitting my application to Doctors Without Borders. Since the promises of our youth had withered to dust, it was time to let him go, and in turn, set myself free. 1 As Alexander laid out his arrangements, my eyes quietly scanned the conditions for applying to Doctors Without Borders. Discovering that I met all the requirements, I began filling out the application form without hesitation. Alexander finished what he had to say, then, hearing the faint, erratic tap-tap of keys, his voice tightened with a hint of displeasure. “Anna, did you hear everything I just told you?” I gave a faint ‘mm-hmm,’ a minimalist acknowledgment. He fell silent, seemingly surprised by my easy acquiescence. After a long moment, his voice softened, laced with a sigh. “Anna, if only you had always been this compliant.” His words made me pause, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. I was instantly flooded with memories of our countless arguments. In our five years of marriage, countless women had shown up at our doorstep, challenging me. I still vividly remembered the first time someone tried to provoke me. I had collapsed, smashing everything in the house, hysterically demanding to know why he was doing this to me. Back then, his eyes held only weariness, and he pleaded, “I was just playing a part for business; there’s nothing going on between us. How many times do I have to tell you before you’ll believe me?” He was disappointed by my lack of trust, exhausted by my willingness to believe others over him. Afterward, I reflected, wondering if I had truly been overly suspicious. I humbled myself, apologized to him, and sought his forgiveness. But it wasn’t long before gossip about him and a trending celebrity checking into a hotel together went viral. I spiraled again, confronting him, desperate for an explanation. Yet, his eyes were full of disappointment, and he simply shook his head. “Anna, is that how little you trust me? If so, then I’ll give you what you want.” From that day forward, he stopped bothering to hide anything, constantly making headlines with different women. I even witnessed him intimately kissing a woman in his car. When I confronted him, he no longer offered explanations, choosing silence instead. In five years, I’d lost count of how many arguments we’d had. But I felt a deep, profound weariness. I had considered divorcing him, ending this ridiculous and tragic marriage once and for all. However, my mother’s greatest wish was to see me happy. She endured agonizing pain every day, and I couldn’t bear to cause her any more worry or sorrow. So I endured, deliberately avoiding anything to do with Alexander, turning a blind eye to the women who sought to provoke me. I thought that by doing so, I could maintain a façade of happiness. Until the moment my mother passed. Skeletal and frail, she lay on her sickbed, silent tears streaming down her face, murmuring faintly, “My darling girl, your mother has ruined you… all I ever wanted was for you to be happy… if you’re hurting, darling, then set yourself free…” Her dying wish had shifted from a simple family dinner to hoping for my happiness. Thinking of my mother’s last words, my eyes welled up. My voice, when I spoke, trembled with a faint sob. “Alexander, you can no longer give me the happiness I desire, can you?” 2 He didn’t answer my question directly, merely sighing. “Anna, we’re both approaching our thirties. It’s time to be mature. Whether there’s love or not, it’s not that important anymore.” This was his indirect way of telling me he no longer loved me. I understood, and a bitter laugh escaped me, laced with a mournful sob. “Alright, then. I’ll let you go, and I’ll set myself free.” The moment those words left my lips, my heart gave a sharp, sudden tremor. Five years ago, Alexander had said something similar to me. Back then, we were struggling financially, living in a cramped, dimly lit, dilapidated rental apartment. The only ring he could afford was a plain silver band. When he proposed, he spoke with fervent, fierce devotion: “Anna, I promise you, wherever I am, that will be your home. I’ll build you the most perfect sanctuary, so you’ll never suffer again. Your life will be nothing but happiness.” I believed him, and I accepted his proposal. He was like a child who had received a precious gift, beaming, almost skipping with joy. “Anna, from this day forward, you are my wife, Alexander’s wife. This life, this world, we will never be apart. Don’t you ever think I’ll let go of your hand!” But now, he had forgotten those promises. After I spoke those words, he didn’t contradict me. Instead, he said, “Alright, but don’t worry, the position of Mrs. Thorne will always be yours. No one can ever take your place.” When we first got married, hearing the term ‘Mrs. Thorne’ used to fill me with pride and joy. But now, that title had become nothing more than a cruel irony. When he started frequently making headlines with other women, many people in our circle pitied and sympathized with me. Some even dared to openly mock, “Given how fast Mr. Thorne changes women, who knows how long you’ll even be Mrs. Thorne? While you still have a chance, maybe try to have a child. You might be able to secure a better settlement if you divorce later.” “If she could have children, why hasn’t she had a baby bump in five years of marriage? I bet she’s barren; that’s why she can’t hold onto Mr. Thorne’s heart with a child.” They didn’t know that in our first year of marriage, I had carried our child. But that time, Alexander, during a business dinner, had been pressured into excessive drinking and enduring humiliating remarks. To secure the deal, he endured the disrespect, putting on a smile. I happened to be out with colleagues for a team-building event and witnessed the scene, my eyes welling up with a bitter ache. My heart ached for his silent endurance, for him forcing smiles even as his stomach churned from the alcohol. I walked over, wanting to take him away. But those people jeered, saying if I drank a glass of strong liquor, they would not only sign the contract but also arrange for us to be driven home. I knew how much effort Alexander had poured into securing this project. I couldn’t bear to see him disappointed. I mustered all my courage and, right in front of them, downed the strong liquor. That day, he secured the long-awaited contract. And we lost our first child. From then on, no matter how hard we tried, how we nurtured our bodies, I never conceived again. Perhaps, this was heaven’s punishment for my failure to protect our child. Maybe even God believed I didn’t deserve to be a mother. As Alexander’s words hung in the air, tears welled in my eyes and silently slipped down my cheeks, a searing heat against the coolness of my hands. 3 After my mother’s funeral was handled, I returned to the hospital for work as usual. My mentor, who had learned of my application to Doctors Without Borders, came specifically to ask me about it. “Anna, have you really thought this through? The place they’re going is a war-torn country. Once you’re there, you’ll be facing a life under constant fire and falling shells every day…” “Professor, I’ve already made up my mind. I wanted to go before, but I just hadn’t found the right opportunity.” Before, I couldn’t let go of my ailing mother. I couldn’t let go of Alexander. Now, my mother was gone forever, and the Alexander who once loved me was also gone. I no longer had any reason to cling to this place. For me, it didn’t matter where I was. Perhaps I could do something meaningful. Seeing my unwavering resolve, my mentor stopped trying to dissuade me. She gave me a few instructions and then left my office. No sooner had she stepped out than Alexander walked in. He looked at me, a confused frown on his face. “Where did you say you wanted to go just now?” My movements, as I tidied my desk, froze for a moment. I looked up at him, my voice flat. “To travel. I’ve rarely gotten out since I started working.” Back when we were in college, I used to always arrange trips with friends to various places, eager to see new landscapes. He knew this about me. He didn’t seem suspicious, instead expressing his approval. “That’s good then. Getting out more is beneficial for your health. Oh, by the way, Serena needs to come to your hospital for her prenatal check-up. Can you arrange a suitable time for her?” He offered no preamble, directly stating his purpose for coming. He wasn’t even bothering to pretend anymore. A sharp pang pierced my heart. I couldn’t help but think of the child we had lost before they even saw the light of day. Suddenly, I had an overwhelming urge to demand, loudly, if he, now full of anticipation for their child, ever spared a thought for our lost child. But I opened my mouth, then closed it again, dismissing the notion. The past was the past; there was no need to dredge it up again. Or perhaps, he had already forgotten. Suppressing the turbulent emotions churning within me, I reminded him, “Our doctors here are all very responsible. You can simply register and wait in line.” As my words faded, a familiar figure appeared in the office doorway. Serena, with her visibly prominent baby bump, slowly walked in. She linked her arm through Alexander’s, a wounded pout on her lips. “Alex, honey, is Dr. Thorne unwilling to help us? It’s all my fault for forgetting to make an appointment; otherwise, you wouldn’t be wasting your time here.” Alexander didn’t push her away. He gently squeezed her cheek, his voice soft. “I always have time for you and our baby. It’s alright if she doesn’t want to help; I’ll wait with you.” Noticing she seemed a little tired, he tenderly pressed a kiss to her forehead, whispering soft reassurances into her ear. This tender scene before me was a blinding, agonizing sight. There was a time, not so long ago, when he used to be this tender with me. He would gently comfort me, make silly faces to cheer me up, and spend every last dime he had to buy me a necklace I loved. He had told me that whatever other women had, I would have too. He constantly strived to climb higher, enduring hardship and exhaustion outside, yet always greeting me with a smile when he came home, recounting amusing anecdotes from his day. Even when he was so exhausted his eyes could barely stay open, he would still talk to me, listen to me. He said it gave him a deep sense of contentment. But at some point, gradually, we went from confiding everything to this chilling silence. I averted my gaze, no longer wanting to witness the searing image that clawed at old memories. Alexander, however, suddenly recalled something. He said flatly, “What Serena did last time was wrong. I had someone buy some tonics. I’ll send them to Mom as an apology later.” “No need,” I replied, my voice devoid of emotion. “She won’t be needing them anymore.” 4 The day my mother died, I called him countless times, but no one ever answered. With each repeated, cold, automated female voice, my heart slowly gave way from initial anger to numbness. I had considered going to confront them, demanding they pay for what they had done to my mother. But every time I closed my eyes, I would recall my mother’s dying words. She told me not to blame anyone, not to live with hatred. All she wanted was to see me free, unburdened, and living happily. And I would listen to her. I would live freely, unburdened, and happily. Regarding my words, Alexander thought I was still dwelling on Serena’s earlier outburst. He frowned, displeased. “Anna, you don’t need to keep dwelling on minor incidents. It’s all in the past.” In his eyes, it was in the past. But in my eyes, it could never be in the past. I looked at him with cold, detached eyes and stated blandly, “My mother isn’t here anymore. You won’t find her.” “Anna! Don’t be so absurd! No matter what, she’s still your mother. How can you curse her like that? She’s so ill right now, where else would she be but the hospital?” My mother, during her lifetime, treated him even better than she treated me. Anything good she had, she would save for him. When he first started his business, someone sabotaged him, and he lost everything. It was my mother who took out her life savings to help him pay off his debts, helping him climb out of that mire. Yet, because of him, she found no peace even in her severe illness. Serena chimed in, echoing his sentiments. “Dr. Thorne, I know you and Auntie resent me for my thoughtlessness before. I apologize, okay? Alex is truly worried about Auntie, so please don’t be difficult with him.” “You don’t deserve to even speak her name!” Hearing her mention my mother, the fury I had suppressed erupted. “Get out! I don’t want to see you!” I rose abruptly, issuing a clear command for them to leave. Alexander, seemingly afraid I might do something to Serena, quickly shielded her behind him. His gaze turned cold. “Anna, maliciously kicking out a patient – is this your professional medical ethics as a doctor?” He then proceeded to dial a complaint number right in front of me, articulating each word coldly. “I’m reporting Dr. Anna Thorne from the surgery department for unprofessional conduct…” He said he wanted to teach me a lesson, to make me understand what professional ethics were. Watching him unequivocally accuse me, a ripple of disturbance spread through my calm heart. Without waiting for me to say anything, he turned and led Serena away. As they stepped out of the office, Serena looked back, flashing me a triumphant smirk. It seemed to say, “See? Alexander is on my side. You’re a complete and utter failure.” Soon after, I received a warning from the hospital administration. My mentor, having heard what happened, helped me apply for an early leave of absence to prepare for my volunteer mission abroad. After completing the suspension procedures, I returned home. Alexander still hadn’t returned, but his social media feed was constantly updated. One moment he was posting ultrasound photos from Serena, sharing his joy of becoming a father. The next, he was posting pictures of the nursery he had personally decorated, captioned, “Baby, come out soon; Mommy and Daddy can’t wait to see you.” He hadn’t blocked me from seeing his posts. I collected myself and silently ‘liked’ one. When I checked again later, I discovered he had blocked me. I wasn’t angry. I tapped his profile picture and, mirroring his action, blocked him too. From that moment on, we would never cross paths again.

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In my past life, my girlfriend’s childhood friend had brazenly impersonated a rich scion, causing chaos wherever he went. When I exposed him, he flew into a rage and deliberately slammed his car into me. As I lay dying, my girlfriend Anastasia’s older sister, Charlotte, knelt and pleaded with her to save my life. But Anastasia remained utterly indifferent. “Impossible. Zachary is far too noble to dirty his hands for a little shrimp like him. Don’t get carried away just because you’re dating me; know your place!” Charlotte knelt for three days and three nights, only to be dragged away by Zachary, brutally assaulted, and left for dead. Until my heart finally gave out, Anastasia was still protecting Zachary, covering up his crimes, refusing to believe he had run me over, let alone brutalized her own sister. Reborn, I didn’t choose to humble myself and beg Anastasia to spare me a glance. Instead, I called my older brother, Liam. “Bro, there’s a guy impersonating me, causing trouble out there. Could you have someone deal with him?” “Also, the engagement with the Reed family we’ve been planning? I’m switching the bride. From Anastasia Reed to her older sister, Charlotte.” For years, I’d poured countless resources into the Reed family, only to raise an ungrateful viper. I wanted to see how arrogant Anastasia and her childhood friend would be without me backing them. “Alex Cole! You publicly humiliated me tonight; I’ll make you regret it! You were so arrogant when you exposed me, weren’t you? Did you ever imagine this day would come?” Zachary Thorne’s familiar voice rang in my ears before I could even process it. “You’re just a pathetic nobody, a penniless loser. Anastasia doesn’t even care about you. Even if I crush you into the dirt out here in the middle of nowhere, she’ll still protect me, believe it or not!” Dazzling headlights were rushing closer, the engine howling as if to run right over me. A searing jolt of pain ripped through my body. That’s when I truly realized I had been reborn. I was back in the exact moment Zachary had slammed his car into me. My shattered phone lay nearby, somehow having dialed Anastasia’s number. Her cold, disgusted voice was still echoing from the speaker. “Alex Cole, just stop calling me. I know you’re just jealous of Zachary and me, always looking for reasons to cause trouble. Zachary would never hit you with his car. That vehicle cost millions; it’s not worth totaling it just to run you over. No matter what you say this time, I won’t believe a word of it!” She fell silent after that, apparently waiting for my reaction. But unlike my previous life, I didn’t try to argue, to beg for help, or to convince her of Zachary’s true nature. Watching Zachary drive off, leaving me for dead, I painstakingly reached out, hung up the call, and used my phone’s last ounce of battery to dial another number. Once it connected, I gritted my teeth, suppressing the agony that wracked my body. “Bro, save me.” My ears buzzed, and I couldn’t quite make out his reply, but I knew, with absolute certainty, that my brother would come. I was Liam’s favorite, the future second-in-command of the powerful Cole family, and our family’s protection around me was absolute. These past years, living under a hidden identity and dating Anastasia, had already been the absolute limit of what they would tolerate. If they ever found out someone dared to harm me, they would unleash a thousandfold retribution, tormenting them until they begged for death. I was dragging my body, trying to crawl towards the edge of the road, when Zachary’s car suddenly reappeared, speeding back towards me. The window rolled down, and his eyes, dark and sinister, fixed on me. “Anastasia said you weren’t dead. She was right.” My heart plummeted. If he hit me again, I truly wouldn’t survive. I watched, helpless, as his foot stomped down on the accelerator. Just as despair threatened to consume me, a bright red sports car screamed into view from another direction, smashing head-on into Zachary’s Maybach. A woman sprang out of the car, rushing towards me, her voice laced with urgent concern. “Alex Cole, are you alright?!” It was Charlotte Reed, Anastasia’s older sister. Memories flooded back – her desperate pleas in my previous life, her agonizing fate, abused and left for dead by Zachary right by my hospital bed. A tide of complex emotions washed over me, but most profoundly, guilt and gratitude. I vowed to protect her this time, never letting her come to harm again. Without thinking, I pushed her away. “Don’t mind me, run!” But it was too late. Zachary materialized behind Charlotte, seizing her by the hair and yanking her back. Before she could even speak, he brutally kicked her. “You wretched bitch! Where did you crawl out from? Don’t you know who I am, Young Master Thorne? Daring to stop me from teaching this nobody a lesson? Do you have a death wish?!” Charlotte crumpled, clutching her stomach, cold sweat beading on her forehead. But she mustered all her strength and bit down hard on his hand. Zachary let out a howl of pain, then grabbed a heavy stone from the ground and savagely brought it down on her. Watching Charlotte’s head crack open and bleed, my heart ached with agonizing pain. “She’s Anastasia’s sister! You hurt her, aren’t you afraid Anastasia will come after you?!” Zachary paused, then a wicked smirk twisted his lips as he looked at her bruised face. He slapped her violently, sending her sprawling onto the ground, then reached for his belt. “So what if she’s Anastasia’s sister? It’s her honor that I even look at her. Besides, I’m the Cole family’s second young master. The Reeds owe everything they have to me. If I claim this woman was harmed by you, who do you think Anastasia will believe? Me or you? She’ll finish you off, and I’ll be completely off the hook!” I was frantic, but my legs were crushed, rendering me utterly immobile. All I could do was reveal my true identity. “Enough! I am the real Cole family scion! She is under my protection. If you dare lay another hand on her, I’ll leverage every connection the Cole family has to make your life a living hell!” Zachary burst into mocking laughter. “That’s a pretty convincing lie, but Young Master Liam has already personally acknowledged me as his brother! How dare you try to impersonate me here?!” My heart lurched. I had no idea about any of this. My parents had been deeply in love; there were no other illegitimate children. My brother Liam had personally promised me, time and again, that I was his only true brother. Where had this imposter come from? Before I could sort out my thoughts, Zachary’s face twisted into a sinister snarl, and he raised his foot, intending to kick me into the river that lay just beyond the road. Rolling down there would mean certain death. Just as I braced myself, trying desperately to find a way to save myself, Charlotte launched herself from behind him, wrapping her arms tightly around Zachary’s legs. “Alex, run! I’ll hold him here!” She bit him relentlessly, and Zachary was completely enraged, about to unleash his fury on both of us when the unmistakable thrum of a helicopter sliced through the night sky. The Cole family had arrived! Liam’s secretary, Mr. Chen, sprinted from the helicopter, immediately seeing to our rescue. Zachary was promptly knocked out and dragged away, but Charlotte, overwhelmed by the terror, had fainted. I urgently ordered them to rush her to the hospital for treatment, while my own broken bones were merely set and temporarily stabilized. I waited anxiously outside the emergency room for what felt like an eternity, until Charlotte was safely moved to a private room. Only then did the knot of dread in my chest finally loosen. I immediately called Liam to assure him of my safety. Hearing I was injured, Liam’s fury erupted. He slammed his fist on a table, his voice booming. “Who dared to harm you?! If I weren’t tied up with urgent matters, I would have flown there myself with Mr. Chen and broken every one of their limbs, making them beg for death!” I didn’t want him to escalate things too much just yet. “Bro, about the engagement with the Reed family, originally set for next month… I want to change the person.” Liam sounded surprised. “You’re not marrying Anastasia? You were so devoted to her for three years; I thought you’d never marry anyone else.” “No, I don’t want that woman anymore. I want Charlotte.” “And all the resources I poured into Anastasia over the years? I want every single one of them back!” I had treated Anastasia like the love of my life, but she’d treated me like a doormat, letting her friends insult me. In both lives, she had fiercely protected Zachary. I was utterly disgusted with her. Liam’s voice grew solemn. “Understood. Your word is law.” “I’ve recalled Mr. Chen, but I’ve left the Cole family’s personal security detail to protect you. Rest well and recover at the hospital. And don’t even think about trying to hide the extent of your injuries from me; I’ll have someone investigate thoroughly. If anyone laid a finger on you, I’ll make sure they lose ten!” This time, before I could reply, the call disconnected. I had wanted to ask about Zachary, but it seemed that would have to wait. I turned to walk towards Charlotte’s room, only to hear hurried footsteps echoing down the corridor. Looking up, I saw Anastasia’s furious face. She raised her hand and delivered a stinging slap across my face, her voice seething with uncontrollable rage. “Alex Cole, have you lost your mind?! You actually hired people to bully Zachary?! Haven’t you heard how fiercely protective his brother is of him?! You’re practically asking for a death sentence!” My face was still turned from the impact, but I managed a mocking laugh. “He’s a Cole? Then why is his name Thorne?” Anastasia scoffed. “What do you know? He’s a late-in-life child, the family’s most cherished and protected. It’s not strange for him to live under a different name for safety! He and I have been friends since childhood, and even I only just learned his true identity. What hope did a backwoods bumpkin like you have?” Just then, I saw Zachary, his face bruised and swollen, emerge from behind Captain Reynolds, one of our family’s security chiefs. Anastasia looked at me with smug satisfaction, clearly believing my downfall was imminent. I wondered why Zachary had been released, when Captain Reynolds walked directly towards me. I expected him to step in front of me, to protect me, but instead, he suddenly pulled a club from his belt and swung it violently at me. “What kind of trash are you, daring to bully our Young Master?! You’re looking for a fight! This is a lesson from the Young Master!” The blow connected, and blood streamed down my forehead, painting my vision crimson. My head buzzed, threatening to pass out. Yet, his eyes were bloodshot, truly looking like he was protecting his master. I was utterly bewildered. “You’re insane! Don’t you recognize me? I’m the Cole family’s second son!” But he spat, his expression feral. “You’re delusional! I’ve worked for the Cole family for nearly ten years, and I’ve only ever known Young Master Zachary! What are you, daring to impersonate him?!” Zachary finally stepped out from behind Captain Reynolds, his gaze cold and calculating, like a butcher eyeing meat on a chopping block. He turned to Anastasia. “Anastasia, what should we do about this? Tonight, I just wanted a quiet drink with friends, but your boyfriend here publicly accused me of impersonating the Cole family’s young master.” “Our family’s motto has always been discretion, so I tolerated it, even had him politely escorted to a car. But he then had the audacity to accuse me of hitting him with my car! Damaging the Cole family’s reputation, no less! How are we going to settle this score?” Every word he uttered was a blatant distortion of the truth, utterly absurd. But Anastasia’s face paled. She immediately grabbed my collar, yanking me out of my wheelchair. Then she kicked my knee, forcing me to my knees with a sickening thud. She ordered someone to hold my head, slamming it repeatedly against the floor. “Alex Cole, I never imagined you were this kind of person! Apologize to Zachary, now! Keep bowing your head until he’s willing to forgive you!” I trembled with rage, struggling to get back on my feet. My brother Liam had always taught me that a man’s knees are sacred, never to be bent except for those he loved most. Since birth, I had only ever knelt before my parents. What they were doing was a profound humiliation of my very being! Anastasia, seeing my struggle, merely sneered, her voice dripping with haughty arrogance. “Still refusing to accept reality? I’ll let you in on some insider information: the Cole family is finally formalizing an engagement with the Reed family, and I am the chosen bride.” “People of our standing don’t associate with penniless nobodies like you. Give up your pathetic ambitions of climbing the social ladder. Apologize to Zachary now, and perhaps, out of consideration for our past, I might even persuade him to spare your life!” Veins pulsed violently on my forehead, and I laughed, a bitter, mocking sound. “Anastasia, the Cole family will never formalize an engagement with you. You’d better start preparing to be disowned by the Reed family!” This seemed to ignite Anastasia’s fury. She snatched a nearby vase, smashing it against the ground, then picked up a sharp shard. Raising it, she aimed for my thigh. “You pathetic piece of trash! How dare you speak to me like that? If you insist on being stubborn, I have no problem turning you into a complete cripple. Let’s see how arrogant you can be then!” I was held down, unable to move, and could only close my eyes in despair. But the agonizing pain I expected never came. When I opened my eyes, I saw Charlotte, who had appeared out of nowhere, shielding me. Her hospital gown was soaked in blood, but she still stood defiantly in front of me, speaking in a weak voice. “Don’t believe anything Zachary says. He’s a despicable, immoral thug! He’s not a Cole family young master at all.” “And if you want to hurt Alex, you’ll have to kill me first!” Anastasia stared, aghast, at the crisscrossing fresh and old scars on her sister’s body, about to ask a question. But Zachary reacted faster, hiding the flicker of panic in his eyes. He roughly grabbed Charlotte and slapped her, bellowing.

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My brother beaned someone on the basketball court and tasked me with delivering his apology note. But curiosity got the better of me. I tore open the envelope, and suddenly, a stream of text filled my vision—like comments on a livestream. 【LMAO, he hits the one girl out of everyone on the court? This dude is so obvious. Does he really think that’s a good way to get the main girl’s attention?】 【Seriously, can these two siblings get a clue? One intentionally injures people on the court, the other is constantly clinging to the male lead. Are they addicted to being the villains in our main couple’s love story?】 【They’re so annoying. Can’t they just disappear and let our leads have their moment?】 【It’s fine, lol. The two of them are just a couple of simps. The brother is the worst—a total coward who’s been crushing on her from the start. This is just for comedic relief. Hahahaha.】 What? I might be a simp, that’s fine. But my brother? The six-foot-two dreamboat with abs, who can play basketball, who’s a total charmer, who’s kind and sunny and has a voice that could melt butter—he’s a simp, too? And he’s got a secret crush? I laughed so hard I almost died. That night, I rewrote the apology note into a full-blown love letter and delivered it to the girl myself. 1 By the time Briar got back from the teacher’s office, I’d already been waiting in the hallway for nearly ten minutes. The hot sun bleached the ends of her hair, and her washed-out school uniform was buttoned meticulously to the very top. Her skin was pale, and her eyes were red-rimmed. She had the look of someone who was easy to push around. And honestly, she was. She was clutching a packet of competition math problems. Every question was covered in perfect checkmarks, yet next to each one, she’d used a red pen to write out an even more concise solution. It wasn’t hard to guess what had happened. Someone’s cold remarks had clearly gotten to her. I narrowed my eyes and straightened up. My friends fell in line behind me, completely blocking her path. “You’re Briar?” I said, crossing my arms and looking down at her with my prettiest, most intimidating eyes. Students in the hallway started to stare, their whispers buzzing in the air. “What’s going on? How did Briar get on the wrong side of her?” Someone else drawled, “Who knows? Probably because she’s been spending all her time with John for the math competition. You know how jealous she gets.” “That makes sense. Looks like she’s about to get a warning.” The whispers were impossible to ignore. Briar clutched the hem of her uniform, her fingers twisting the fabric. When she looked up, her wide, doe-like eyes were trembling. She was obviously nervous, but she forced her voice to be steady. “Can I help you?” The captions were a torrent of criticism. 【First she harasses the male lead, now she’s bullying the female lead. I’m so sick of her! Does she really think this will make him like her?!】 【Is she starting trouble again? I’m scared. Is our girl gonna get bullied?】 【Don’t worry. If she touches a single hair on her head, the male lead will be here in a second to put her in her place!】 【But I don’t think the main couple even likes each other yet.】 【He’ll still protect her instinctively. They’re soulmates, after all.】 Out of all that text, two words stood out. Bullying? Did I really look like I was here to bully her? Briar kept her expression neutral, watching us without flinching. Her fingers tightened, feeling every fold and crease in the papers she held. It was almost a reminder to herself—reaching for things that don’t belong to you will only bring trouble. Just as she was bracing for whatever nasty thing I was about to say, a rich, floral scent drifted through the air. A love letter appeared right in front of her. “So, here’s the deal,” I said. “My brother has a huge crush on you.” “But he’s a total coward, so he asked me to give you this.” The pink envelope was perfectly square, adorned with a decorative stamp and sealed with a beautiful, pressed flower. Briar stared at it, momentarily stunned. A letter this exquisite seemed completely out of place with her own simple, almost threadbare existence. But there, written clearly on the front, was her name. All of her energy was poured into studying, into winning scholarships just to claw her way out of poverty. She had never, ever imagined a scene like this. She had no idea how to react. Her heartbeat, a beat late, began to thunder in her ears, a frantic rhythm that, combined with the catcalls and whoops from the surrounding students, threatened to swallow her whole. Her eyes were red, her earlobes were red, and her cheeks were even redder. So cute. She was the perfect match for my handsome brother. I placed the envelope in her hand with a grin. The paper, warm from the sun, was so hot it made her fingertips curl. The teasing from the crowd grew louder. Her blush deepened, creeping all the way to her ears. “Is this… is this from the guy on the basketball court the other day?” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. She sounded uncertain. “Yep! The one who accidentally hit you with the ball.” Suddenly, a flash of bold, passionate red broke through her otherwise drab memories. A boy in a red jersey. His features were sharp, almost fierce, but when he had crouched down to her level, he had apologized, flustered, gently asking if she was okay. It was a stark contrast to John’s cold, detached aura. This boy had smelled of the scorching afternoon sun, sweat still glistening on the lean muscles of his arms. He radiated a vibrant, almost overwhelming life force that was unique to boys his age. But even in that moment, her attention had been drawn to his shoes. Expensive, limited-edition sneakers that silently screamed the chasm between their social classes. He was like John, and yet, completely different. Even though the game was on the line, he’d had a friend take her to the nurse’s office and had even pressed his student ID card into her hand, telling her to use it for any medical fees. As he turned to leave, she saw the name printed on the back of his jersey. Martin. A name that sounded as vibrant and full of life as he was. “Remember now? My brother, Martin. He’s a senior,” I said, giving her a wink. She slowly tightened her grip on the letter, her voice soft and trembling with nerves. “Yeah.” “He really, really likes you. But… he’s a coward.” The morning sun was bright and warm. Her eyelashes fluttered. She couldn’t help but wonder. A boy so dazzling you could hardly look at him directly… Could he really be a coward? 2 For that little stunt, the captions cursed me out for days. 【She just has to mess with the main couple’s story, doesn’t she! So gross!】 【Does she really think the female lead would fall for her brother? Talk about delusional.】 【LMAO, her brother is the classic second male lead. The main guy might be cold, but that’s exactly what the female lead likes about him. That whole ‘cold on the outside, warm on the inside’ thing.】 【Totally. Someone as insecure and sensitive as the female lead would prefer a quiet, steady presence. Someone with a personality that different from hers would just make her uncomfortable. She only accepted the letter to avoid an awkward scene. There’s no way she actually likes him.】 Was that really true? As I walked into the exam hall with my pencils, I saw Briar. Her cheeks were flushed, and she seemed distracted, her gaze frequently drifting to a boy sitting in the front left of the room. That was my brother, Martin. My eyes followed hers, and then I froze. My gaze was fixed on the chocolate bar still sitting in Martin’s palm. Wait. He didn’t give it to her? …Or was he rejected? I had seen the exam seating chart ahead of time, and the moment I knew Briar would be in our hall, I told Martin. He had just grunted, a nonchalant “Mm,” but the tips of his ears had turned red. I sensed something was up. “You already knew, didn’t you?” “A friend told me.” “They know you have a crush on Briar, too?! No way, when did you get so bold?” I caught the dark look he shot me. …Oh, right. It was probably because I’d been so over-the-top when I delivered the letter. He’d found out from his friends that same day that I’d swapped his apology for a love letter. But he hadn’t denied it, his excuse being that it would have embarrassed her. I saw right through it. He was clearly happy about it. So, I had given him a special chocolate bar a friend had brought me from abroad and told him to give it to Briar the next day. For the first time, the boy who was always so composed and confident showed a rare flicker of adolescent awkwardness. “Won’t that be… too sudden?” he’d asked, hesitating. “You don’t give a girl gifts when you’re trying to win her over?” I’d asked, confused. “When you’re pursuing a girl, you give her flowers, bags, gifts! If you just talk and don’t spend any money, that’s not called pursuing, that’s called harassing.” I was very self-righteous about it. Martin had agreed. I just never imagined his first attempt at giving a girl a gift would end in a flat-out rejection. I couldn’t help but sneak a few glances at him. He was resting his head on one hand, his eyes downcast. A faint blush dusted his pale skin. He looked like he was thinking, or maybe just zoning out. And the chocolate bar between his long fingers was mangled beyond recognition. The captions were a symphony of mockery. 【LMAO, I told you the female lead wouldn’t fall for a side character. He got rejected so hard!】 【He played himself. The clown is him! Hahahaha.】 【They’re all just simps for the main couple anyway. Might as well watch the circus.】 Simps. Haha, I was actually starting to feel a little sorry for us. 3 With a wooden expression, I walked past John’s desk without stopping. I kept going, right past him. The boy, who was usually the picture of indifference, actually flinched, his eyelids twitching. Yes, not only were Briar and my brother in the same exam hall, but John was here, too. Of course. The side characters only exist to ornament the main characters’ love story. My brother was already miserable enough. I couldn’t embarrass myself, too. The seating for the monthly exam wasn’t strict. I easily swapped seats with the boy in front of me and sat down next to Briar. She snapped back to reality, a lock of hair falling beside her ear, hiding her momentarily panicked eyes. The fountain pen at the edge of her desk was knocked off by her elbow, rolling to my feet. The logo on the cap was faded, with only a single letter, L, barely visible. The body of the pen was heavily worn, the plating rubbed away to reveal the base metal underneath. I was about to bend down and pick it up for her, but she was faster. She shot out of her seat, grabbed the pen, and clutched it tightly in her palm. “Thank you,” she said, noticing my intention. Her voice was quiet and quick. For a moment, I let go of my usual spoiled princess act and gave her a friendly smile. “No problem.” Can you even write with a pen like that? I couldn’t help but watch her. When the exam papers were handed out, she took a normal gel pen from her pencil case and neatly wrote her name. The battered fountain pen just sat quietly on her desk. It seemed to be there more for companionship than for use. My mind drifted. Maybe she just didn’t like chocolate. That’s why she rejected Martin. Next time, I’ll have him give her some school supplies. He can’t get rejected for that, right? The chirping of the cicadas outside mingled with the soft scratching of pens inside. I didn’t know how to do any of the problems, so I just spun my pen, rested my chin on my hand, and openly studied her. She wrote slowly, deliberately. She was slightly hunched over, her strokes careful and unhurried. I’d heard she was the first person from her hometown to ever get into this high school. She had fought her way out of a family that favored sons over daughters, enduring everyone’s doubts and pressure to get to where she was today. Like a small white flower blooming from the face of a cliff. Beneath her seemingly fragile exterior was a stubborn and unyielding soul. How could someone who craved love and validation so much fall for someone as cold and almost cruel as John? I couldn’t figure it out. Perhaps my stare was too intense. She turned her head slightly and looked at me. When she saw I had left the last multiple-choice question blank, she pursed her lips and subtly flashed me a ‘C’ with her fingers. My eyes lit up. Way more generous than that cheapskate John! A girl this kind and gentle deserved my brother! So what if we were simps? I’d be her little simp, too! 4 As usual, John finished his exam half an hour early. A wave of cold air washed over me as he walked past my desk. His dark eyes flicked down for a split second, his gaze landing on my long-finished answer sheet. At that moment, I was slumped over my desk, doodling circles on my scratch paper out of sheer boredom. It was obvious I was waiting for someone. But even as he handed in his paper and was about to walk out of the classroom, he heard no sound of a chair scraping behind him. The proctor looked up as the boy returned. “What’s wrong?” he asked, surprised. “Forgot my pen,” John said flatly. The crisp, straight line of his pant leg passed by my desk for a second time. And I was still doodling. I didn’t even look up. All the attention I used to lavish on John was now focused entirely on Briar. I was doodling and fretting. What excuse could I use to get Briar and my brother to have lunch together? 5 With five minutes left, Briar stood up to hand in her paper. Martin and I capped our pens in perfect sync, got up, and followed her out of the classroom, shoulder to shoulder. “How come you didn’t go find John today?” he asked. I pouted. “Don’t want to.” We pretended to be going with the flow of the crowd, but we were actually tailing her all the way to the cafeteria. After getting our food, we both sat down right across from her. When Briar looked up, she was met with two pairs of nearly identical eyes staring at her intently. I chose to ignore the sea of empty tables around us and gave her a wink. “It’s so crowded in here. You don’t mind if we sit here, do you?” She lowered her head. “N-no, it’s fine. Go ahead,” she mumbled. Martin and I rarely ate in the main first-floor cafeteria. I glanced at the sad-looking vegetables on her tray and blurted out, “Is that all you’re eating? There’s no nutrition in that…” As I spoke, I picked up a piece of braised pork, but the moment it hit my tongue, I gagged. “Blech… this is disgusting…” Briar looked startled. “Is it… spoiled?” she asked hesitantly. But the glossy sheen and fragrant aroma suggested otherwise. “It’s nothing, she’s just a picky eater,” Martin explained to her sheepishly, handing me a napkin to wipe my mouth. “Oh, okay.” Briar awkwardly averted her gaze. She was about to say she had an unopened bottle of water in her backpack, but then she saw me stand up. “I’m going to go buy some milk to rinse my mouth out. You guys take your time.” The slender hand that had just touched her backpack zipper quickly retreated. Now, there were only two of them at the table. The atmosphere instantly became tense. Briar ducked her head even lower, her world shrinking to the confines of her tray as she ate, bite by silent bite. Suddenly, she heard the boy across from her speak, his voice tentative. “Are you on a diet?” Her poverty suddenly had a plausible excuse. Briar’s hand paused. “Mm,” she mumbled, the sound barely audible. “You’re under a lot of academic pressure right now, you should eat properly,” Martin said, his eyes downcast. His voice was slow and deep. “She’s probably not coming back. Can you help me finish this meat? It’d be a shame to waste it.” Before she could refuse, he had already picked up his tray and scraped all of his meat onto hers. She was silent for a long time. Martin finally looked up and met her wide, shimmering, red-rimmed eyes. She stared at him, a storm of unreadable emotions swirling in their depths, before she forcibly tucked them away behind a soft, watery gaze. Her expression felt strangely familiar to him, so familiar it made his heart ache. …It made him want to protect her. She looked at him, and then a small smile curved her lips. Quietly, but clearly and firmly, she said, “Thank you, Martin.”

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A fire broke out in our apartment building. I woke up choking on smoke to find the apartment empty. Terrified, I called my husband, Ross, only to turn and see him burst through the front door, naked. He swept me into his arms and ran for the stairs. It was then that I saw them: the angry red scratches down his back, the countless dark bruises blooming on his neck. My vision blurred. “Why were you outside?” I sobbed, my pregnant belly tightening with a sharp, painful cramp. Through the chaos of the fleeing crowd, I saw a woman, her own clothes in disarray, clutching Ross’s coat and shoes. I knew her. She was the new secretary at his company, the one with eyes so much like mine. The man who had once treated me as his entire world had cheated. “Mom,” I said into the phone, a call that crossed an ocean, “I’ve decided to immigrate.” It was the final, definitive end for me and Ross. 1 “Doctor,” I began, my voice trembling, “I’m five months along. Is it still possible to terminate?” Ross had been by my side for every single prenatal appointment since I became pregnant. No matter how busy he was at work, he always made time. Now, as I watched his familiar silhouette pacing outside the examination room, a storm of reluctance and grief washed over me, but the question still escaped my lips. The doctor’s hand paused on my stomach. I flinched, and she quickly apologized before asking in surprise, “You want to terminate this pregnancy?” Seeing the resolve in my eyes, she answered thoughtfully, “It’s possible, but we’ll need the father’s signature.” She tried to persuade me, her voice gentle, but I couldn’t hear a word she was saying. Ross’s explanation for that night was that he’d had too much to drink at a business meeting and had stepped outside to be sick, stripping off his clothes in the process. I didn’t believe a word of it. Meanwhile, the story of Ross Mercer, the heroic husband who braved a fire to save his pregnant wife, was everywhere. The internet lauded him as the perfect man. The media dug up our entire love story—childhood sweethearts, married young, the wealthy CEO and his beloved wife. Photos of my priceless diamond wedding gown from our fairy-tale wedding went viral. Overnight, Ross’s love for me became a modern-day legend. I knew the love had been real. But I also knew it was gone. Ross’s heart had already strayed. After the check-up, he carefully helped me out of the room, his voice laced with concern for me and our child. I saw the furtive, cautious glances he kept shooting my way. I pretended not to notice and walked straight ahead. Though I planned to end the pregnancy, I still went through with the routine scans. As we were listening to the baby’s heartbeat, his phone rang. A subconscious glance was all it took for me to see her name: Ashley. He didn’t even wait to hear the rest of our child’s heartbeat, something he’d never done before. He stepped away to take the call. His tone was cold, distant, but I could hear the effort behind it, the careful mask. He frowned and said, “I’ll be right there.” He came back, his arm wrapping around my shoulders, and whispered his excuse. “A major client just arrived at the office. I have to go back for a bit. I’ll come pick you up later to take you home.” The doctor, as always, smiled and praised him for being such a wonderful husband. I just lowered my head, unable to force a smile of my own. After he left, I lay on the examination table, the steady, healthy rhythm of my baby’s heart echoing in my ears. I didn’t wait for him to pick me up. I took a cab home. When he arrived, he launched into his usual routine, trying to charm me, apologizing profusely for abandoning his wife and child for work. But the playful antics and sweet words that used to make me happy now felt hollow and rehearsed. His over-the-top performance was just another layer of camouflage for his betrayal. The more he tried, the bigger his guilt seemed. I gently pushed him away, pretending not to see the flash of disappointment in his eyes, and told him to go shower. As the sound of running water filled the bathroom, I stared at his blurred silhouette through the glass and finally made my decision. I sent the message. 【Doctor, I’ve decided to go through with the induction. Please schedule it for me.】 The child I had once anticipated with so much joy was not destined to be mine. If I couldn’t give him a happy, stable family, it was better for him not to be born at all. 2 Ross was laying out his clothes for the next day, a habit of his, his voice a constant stream of questions. “Honey, where’s my black tie?” “Sweetheart, what about my white trousers?” I sighed and went into the closet, finding each item for him. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his lips pressing against the nape of my neck. His heavy breathing felt like a poison seeping into my heart, making my skin crawl. “My love,” he murmured, “what would I ever do without you?” His hands began to roam, but the moment he turned my face to his, he froze. “Ava? Why do you look so pale?” His eyes were still filled with that deep, adoring look, with no hint of insincerity. “Maybe you should come to the office with me tomorrow. I’m worried about you.” I just shook my head, silent. “Are you still angry about that night?” he asked softly. We both knew what he was talking about, but we had an unspoken agreement not to mention it. “No, don’t overthink it,” I said, pushing down the wave of nausea and patting his shoulder. He clung to me for a while longer before finally heading into the bathroom. The second I heard the shower start, I picked up his phone. The password was my birthday. He hadn’t changed it. The chat history was mostly business. On instinct, I opened Ashley’s social media feed. 【Afternoon tea from the boss. So good!】 【On a business trip with the boss today, and he bought me a necklace! Absolutely in love.】 【Who else has a boss that gives them a six-figure bonus for their birthday?!】 Every post was about him. They had been to Paris, Italy, Japan… She had photos from countless landmarks, her smile radiant, her eyes full of adoration. Ross wasn’t in any of the pictures, but I knew he was the one behind the camera. A sharp pain lanced through my chest. My gaze fell on his briefcase. From a hidden compartment, I pulled out his second phone. The password was my birthday again. A bitter, sickening feeling rose in my throat. He loved me so much, yet he couldn’t stop himself from straying. I opened his chat with Ashley. The last message was from her. 【After Ava has the baby, will you still be this good to me?】 It was accompanied by a cute, pouting selfie. Ross had replied with a simple, “Yes.” I didn’t have the courage to scroll up. The moment the water in the shower stopped, I turned off the screen and put the phone back. He came out and wrapped me in his arms, whispering the usual sweet nothings, telling me how much he loved me. But my mind was drifting away. Ross, when you say you love me, who are you really thinking of? When you look at me, whose face do you see? Thinking back, I should have known something was wrong the first time I met Ashley. She was practically my clone. At the time, Ross had dismissed it as a coincidence. But then, the calls from his “secretary” became more frequent, the reasons more trivial. A broken pipe, a burnt-out lightbulb, a lost cat, a missing ID… she could summon him with a single, insignificant phone call. He said she was just a young girl trying to make it on her own in the big city. He said she reminded him of me when I was her age. Each time, he would hold me and swear that I was the only one he would ever love. But this time, I couldn’t believe him anymore. His lies, his genuine affection for Ashley—they had become the blades that were tearing me apart. The next morning, I woke to the sound of her voice. I opened my bedroom door to see Ashley and Ross standing at the dining table, playfully arranging breakfast. “Stop it, you,” she giggled. “Boss, feed me!” she pouted, leaning closer. Ross smiled, a look of helpless indulgence on his face, and picked up a small dumpling to feed her. She playfully nipped his fingers, her eyes sparkling with flirtatious charm. He reached out to tickle her, trying to make her let go, and in that moment, our eyes met. 3 He pushed Ashley away instinctively, a look of panic on his face as he rushed toward me. “Did we wake you?” I pretended not to see, just shaking my head. Ashley darted out from behind him, squeezing between us. “Ava, the boss really, really loves you. Look, he went out and bought all this breakfast for you himself. Your favorite crab roe buns and taro cakes.” She pouted at Ross. “All I get are these boring old dumplings. What a mean boss.” She clung to my arm, making a face at Ross, who just smiled, a fond, doting look in his eyes. I stared at her, and the Van Cleef & Arpels necklace around her neck seemed to burn into my vision. The receipt for it was still in the pocket of Ross’s coat. I had once thought it was a gift for me. “It’s alright if the boss isn’t good to you,” I said coolly. “After all, Miss Lee is very good to herself. Buying such an expensive necklace on a whim.” With that, I turned and sat down at the table. The two of them were still frozen in place, one tense, the other still smiling. I couldn’t taste a thing during that breakfast. Before we left for the day, Ross insisted I come to the office with him. I had no interest, but no energy to refuse. But Ashley beat me to it, slipping into the passenger seat and rolling down the window. “Ava, I get carsick in the back. Would you mind sitting back there today?” I looked past her, my eyes meeting Ross’s. All I saw was his discomfort. “Ava,” he started, “Ashley hasn’t been feeling well…” I didn’t wait for him to finish. I just opened the back door and got in. The jolting of the car made my stomach clench, and a cold sweat broke out on my skin. I had to grip the handle just to stay upright. In the front, Ross and Ashley chatted and laughed as if I wasn’t even there. “Ava, why are you sweating?” Ross finally noticed me during a red light, turning to look back. I shook my head, pushing through the discomfort. After that, he kept looking back at me, so distracted he even ran a red light without realizing it. The whole world knew how much he loved me. But only I knew that his heart held another woman. Without even being aware of it himself, his heart was slowly, inexorably tilting toward Ashley. The girl who he said was “just like me.” At the office, Ross was constantly by my side, hugging me every few minutes. To any outsider, we looked like a deeply devoted couple, inseparable. But when I looked into his eyes, I could see Ashley’s face, her every smile and frown, filling his thoughts. I was just a tiny, 5% sliver. I felt sick. I made an excuse about needing some air and escaped his grasp. He looked hurt, a wounded expression in his eyes. 【Wow, this is the first time I’ve seen the boss’s wife. She’s so beautiful.】 【I know, right? They’re a perfect match.】 【But she and Ashley look so much alike!】 【Oh my god, is the boss such a romantic that he had to hire a clone of his wife as his secretary?】 I stood a short distance away, listening to the gossip, watching Ashley stare at Ross, her eyes red-rimmed. Our gazes met. Hers was full of resentment. I couldn’t tell if she was resentful about being my replacement, or just being a replacement in general. In the company breakroom, I pushed a freshly brewed cup of coffee toward Ashley. She shook her head. “I’m pregnant.” The coffee cup suddenly felt scalding hot in my hands. I almost lost my balance, but I forced myself to sit down. So, that was why he was always so concerned, so caring toward her. “I don’t know if I should congratulate you,” I said, my voice flat, “because… I’m terminating my pregnancy.” I pushed the surgical consent form and the divorce papers across the table to her. “If you can find a way to get Ross to sign these, his position is all yours.” “Really?” Ashley looked skeptical, her surprise mixed with suspicion. I nodded again. I had no tolerance for this kind of betrayal. A marriage couldn’t hold five people—me, him, her, and our two unborn children. I don’t know how she did it, but a few days later, she sent back the signed documents. I checked them carefully. It was definitely Ross’s signature. Somehow, though, I don’t think he knew what he had signed. On the day of the procedure, my mother flew back from overseas to be with me. “Your brother is back too,” she said. My heart skipped a beat. She was talking about Ethan Jiang, her second husband’s son, my stepbrother. My only childhood playmate. I nodded, feeling a strange unease. I had refused to immigrate with them because of Ross, and Ethan had been so angry he’d blocked me. We hadn’t spoken in ten years. But I didn’t have time to dwell on him. The most important thing now was the termination and the divorce. Fate, it seems, is a mischievous old man who loves a good show. At the hospital, my mother and I ran into Ross, who was there with Ashley for a check-up. Across the crowded waiting room, he saw me.

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My grandfather, Arthur, had always looked down on my grandmother, Eleanor, despising her for her lack of education and subjecting her to a constant barrage of criticism. When she asked me to buy her a box of hair dye online, he flew into a rage. In front of the whole town, he bellowed: “You’ve got one foot in the grave, what’s the point of all this? You think dyeing your hair will make you immortal?” “An old woman trying to look young—it’s pathetic! You’re just a waste of money!” But this same old man, who thought every penny spent on my grandmother was a waste, soon went online and ostentatiously bought 999 roses. The recipient was another old woman. … 1 My grandfather came home while I was in the yard, dyeing my grandmother’s hair. She was only in her early sixties, but her hair was already completely white. If not for her sturdy constitution, you’d think she was pushing eighty. She rarely bothered with her appearance, but her old friend’s birthday was next week, and they had all planned to take a commemorative photo together. “Nina, they won’t laugh at me after this, will they?” The older generation dreaded gossip, and now her confidence was wavering. I kept my hands moving, quickly and efficiently applying the dye to her hair. “What’s there to laugh at? Everyone in the city dyes their hair. If they laugh, it just shows how ignorant they are! Don’t worry, Grandma, it’ll look great! You’ll look at least twenty years younger, I promise!” Women of all ages want to feel beautiful. Though she was a little embarrassed, I could see the anticipation sparkling in her eyes. “You silly girl, you and your wild ideas…” But before she could finish, a sharp voice cut her off. “What is this?” My grandfather, back from his calligraphy class in the city, stood at the courtyard gate, his brow deeply furrowed. “Is this how you waste your money on useless things?” Everyone in our small town knew my grandparents didn’t get along. The sound of their arguing drew a crowd. It was hard to say whether more people came to mediate or to watch the show. Surrounded by onlookers, my grandmother fidgeted, her face flushed red as she tried to explain. But my grandfather had no patience to listen. He pounded his cane on the ground. “Is there any point? No amount of dye will change the fact that you’re halfway to the grave! Instead of wasting money on this foolishness, you should be buying fertilizer for the fields!” In stark contrast to my grandmother’s weathered appearance, my grandfather, who did no physical labor, was robust and full of vigor. He was nearly seventy but looked fifty. When he cursed, his voice was strong and resonant. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I stepped in front of my grandmother, who was stammering and trying to shrink away. “Grandma does all the work and earns the money. What’s wrong with her dyeing her hair? There’s a limit to how much you can freeload off her. Why don’t you use the money from your calligraphy classes to buy fertilizer?” To my surprise, my grandfather didn’t get angry. He laughed. “What do you know? If it weren’t for her, do you think a college graduate like me would be trapped in this godforsaken town? She works because her conscience is guilty! Because she knows she owes me and wants to make it up to me!” I wanted to say more, but my grandmother tugged on my sleeve, her eyes pleading. “Don’t… don’t say any more…” But seeing her reaction, my grandfather seemed determined to twist the knife. He pointed at the crowd, his voice growing louder with every word. “Look at them! A college graduate married to an illiterate farm girl! Don’t you think every single one of them is laughing at me in secret? You’re concerned about your pride now? Where was your pride when you used your dirty tricks to force me to marry you?” Faced with his accusations, my grandmother’s lips trembled. Words rose to her lips, only to be swallowed back down. Her cloudy eyes filled with tears, which she fought back with gritted teeth. I knew there was a story behind their marriage, but this clearly wasn’t the time to dig it up. My grandmother didn’t want to fight, so I could only help her inside. But my grandfather’s voice followed us, relentless. “An old woman acting so indecently, wasting money. Eleanor, aren’t you ashamed of embarrassing me even more?” I closed the door. When I turned around, my grandmother looked like a child who had done something wrong. She clutched my sleeve, her eyes brimming with tears. “Nina, can we return the unopened box? I don’t want to dye it anymore.” 2 I shook my head. “It’s your money. No one can tell you how to spend it. Your friends are waiting for you to look beautiful for your picture. Grandma, don’t let other people’s opinions change you. You’ve never done anything wrong.” I don’t know which words struck a chord with her, but after a moment of silence, she slowly nodded. After removing the plastic wrap and washing her hair, I held up a mirror. A smile finally touched my grandmother’s swollen, red eyes. I breathed a sigh of relief. I was about to say something else to cheer her up when her expression darkened. “Nina, do you really think I’ve done nothing wrong?” I was taken aback, then nodded vigorously. It suddenly occurred to me that, aside from me, perhaps no one had ever affirmed her in all these years. My grandfather, the self-proclaimed intellectual, never lifted a finger around the house. He looked down on the town, and he looked down on her even more. Not insulting her was the best she could hope for; approval was out of the question. Besides me, on my school holidays, she had no one to talk to. She was lonely, her confidence constantly shaken. I rushed to comfort her, a stream of reassuring words tumbling out. She listened quietly, wiping the corners of her eyes. “You’re a modern college student. You know more than your grandfather. Hearing you say that makes me feel better.” Her words reminded me of what my grandfather had said earlier. I hesitated, wondering if I should ask. But she seemed to read my mind and sighed, her gaze drifting off into the distance, as if she were looking back many years. “Your grandfather is right. If not for an accident, he wouldn’t have married me.” More than forty years ago, the town had produced two college students: my grandfather, Arthur, and my grandmother’s best friend, Vivian. The three of them had grown up together. My grandmother had a secret crush on my grandfather, but she knew she wasn’t good enough for him. When she saw that he and Vivian had feelings for each other, she quietly stepped aside. Everyone said they were a perfect match. They were about to get engaged when Vivian, whom she hadn’t heard from in a long time, suddenly asked to meet. “You like Arthur, don’t you? Let me help you.” My grandmother, unsuspecting, drank a cup of tea and lost consciousness. When she woke up, she was in bed with my grandfather, both of them barely clothed, both of them passed out. Villagers burst in and found them. In those days, in a town like ours, reputation was everything. The engagement was called off. My grandfather, scorned by the community, was forced to marry my grandmother. From that day on, he hated her. He believed she had schemed to ruin his life. As she told me this, my grandmother’s face was calm, but her eyes held a sorrow that words couldn’t describe. There were still holes in the story. If I could just figure them out, maybe I could resolve their conflict. I asked, “What happened to Vivian?” “She—” The door was kicked open with a loud bang. My grandfather stood there, his face dark, his teeth gritted. “Are you trying to be some tragic heroine, dredging up this old dirt over and over? Aren’t you ashamed? Stop poisoning the child’s mind with your nonsense!” My grandmother flinched, instinctively shrinking back. She might not have known what a “tragic heroine” was, but she knew it wasn’t a compliment. She swallowed her words and forced an awkward smile at me. And in that moment, I finally understood. The conflict between them wasn’t unresolved because my grandmother didn’t want to fix it. It was because my grandfather never gave her a chance to explain. 3 We didn’t speak of it again. After the New Year, it was time for me to go back to school. My grandmother, perhaps sensing my worry, squeezed my hand, then let it go. “Don’t worry. I’ve made it this far. What could possibly happen? Just study hard. That’s the best way you can repay me.” I didn’t dare look back as I left, afraid to see the reluctance in her eyes. I never imagined that this ordinary farewell would almost be the last time I saw her. After the holidays, another snowstorm hit the state. On a whim, I opened the security camera app for our home, wanting to see what my grandmother was doing. All I saw was my grandfather, alone in the yard, practicing his Tai Chi. I was about to switch camera angles when I noticed a pile of spilled feed near the pigsty. My grandmother was lying motionless in the snow nearby. I didn’t know how long she had been there. Only her dog was pacing anxiously around her. I was horrified. I thought perhaps my grandfather hadn’t seen her, so I was about to turn on the two-way audio to alert him. But then, in the next second, he coldly stepped over her and went inside, without so much as a glance in her direction. By the time I rushed from my school to the hospital, my grandmother was out of danger but still unconscious. My grandfather saw me, his expression cold. He grabbed his coat from the back of a chair and started to leave. “If the medical staff hadn’t required it, I wouldn’t be wasting my time here. I’m leaving. I have a calligraphy class tomorrow. An old woman like her, falling down like that. This hospital stay is just going to be another waste of money. Useless.” Before he left, he shot an impatient glare at my grandmother on the bed. I watched him walk out of the room. I had no desire to stop him. Growing up, it always felt like there were three people in our house, but at the same time, it felt like there were only two: me and my grandmother. My father had died young, and my mother had remarried. It was my grandmother who had raised me. My grandfather was like a ghost, a lodger in his own home. As long as I could remember, they had slept in separate rooms. No one was allowed in his room. I had snuck in once as a child and had seen it was filled with old photographs, all of a strange woman. I never told my grandmother, but now, I suspect she knew all along. I was well aware of my grandfather’s cold-heartedness. I wasn’t disappointed, just heartbroken for my grandmother’s years of suffering. I went to tuck her in, but I saw her eyes were open. I didn’t know how much of my grandfather’s tirade she had heard. Her expression was neutral, and I was relieved. I didn’t want to upset her by asking. Holding her hand, I finally felt the fear catch up to me. Her fall hadn’t been that serious, but if the ambulance hadn’t been called in time, she could have frozen to death in the yard. But looking at her tired eyes, I swallowed the words I wanted to say. To my surprise, she was the one who broke the silence, her voice unexpectedly calm. “When I fell, I didn’t pass out right away. I called for him to help me. He ignored me. I thought that after all this time, it would be in the past. But after a lifetime together, he still hates me. Hates me enough to watch me freeze to death. Why? Aren’t people supposed to have hearts?” She stared blankly at the ceiling, her face full of confusion, as if she were speaking to herself, questioning fate. I couldn’t imagine what she must have felt when he ignored her pleas for help. And I had no answer to her question now. All I could do was squeeze her hand, fighting back my own tears. 4 My grandfather never visited her once before she was discharged. After I finished the discharge paperwork, she finally looked away from the hospital room door. She didn’t say anything, but I could see the disappointment on her face. I tried to distract her, telling her the car would be there soon and suggesting she look at her phone. A few moments later, she leaned over, pointing at the screen. “Nina, what does this say?” I looked. It was a video posted on my grandfather’s account. A massive bouquet of flowers was being carried out of a car by two people and presented to an elegantly dressed woman. Time had been kind to her, adding a certain charm to her features. It was Vivian. She beamed, throwing her arms around my grandfather, who stood beside her. And this old man, who I had only ever known to be stern and unsmiling, was looking at her with a tenderness I had never seen before. My hands trembled as I tapped on the caption. A long, dense block of text, a forty-year ode to unrequited love. In that moment, I was incredibly grateful that my grandmother couldn’t read. Because at the end of the caption, a single, dismissive line—no other love could ever compare—erased forty years of her devotion and suffering. But even without the caption, the video said it all. Even I could guess who the woman was. I couldn’t believe that my grandmother, as her old friend, wouldn’t recognize her. I forced a smile. “It’s nothing, Grandma. Don’t ask.” Perhaps my smile was too strained. She nodded quietly, then reached up and cupped my face with her rough palm. “I won’t ask, I won’t ask. It’s okay, Nina, my sweet girl. Don’t cry.” But I could feel her own hand trembling. She wasn’t a strong woman. When faced with trouble, she would have a good cry before figuring out what to do. But since the hair dye incident, it seemed her tears had run dry. On the way home, I tried to make conversation several times, but her absentmindedness always cut me short. I was worried she might do something foolish. But I soon realized my fears were unfounded. As we reached the town entrance, she suddenly grabbed my hand, her voice hesitant but tinged with a new determination. “Nina, you’re educated. I want to ask you something.” “What is it?” “Can people our age get a divorce? Do old people in the city get divorced?” I was stunned, then overjoyed. I had always been afraid she wouldn’t want to go through the trouble at her age, afraid of the gossip, so I had never suggested it. I never imagined she would come up with the idea herself. Fearing she might change her mind, I nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! Lots of old people in the city get divorced! Grandma, are you thinking…” When she spoke again, her voice was much firmer. “This has haunted me my whole life. I’m tired of it. She was the one who pushed Arthur on me against my will. Now that she’s back, I’m giving him back to her!” On the walk home, her steps grew more and more resolute. When we reached the gate, we saw my grandfather heading out, carrying a beautifully wrapped box. “I need to talk to you.” He ignored her, as usual, not even sparing her a glance. As he was about to walk away, my grandmother’s voice rang out, louder and more determined than before. “Arthur, I want a divorce!” My grandfather finally stopped. He turned and gave her a sarcastic sneer. “You’re the one who shamelessly used dirty tricks to marry me. What kind of game are you playing now?” “I saw the video you posted.” My grandmother was unfazed by his insults. She repeated, her voice firm, “I want a divorce!”

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