Category: English

My husband, David, didn’t love me, and he certainly didn’t love our son. The day Finn was born, David didn’t even glance at him, just thrust him into my arms. Years later, on Finn’s eighth birthday, The man, usually so distant, came home for the first time, completely drunk, and held Finn and me in his arms. I thought the years of frozen indifference were finally melting. But then I heard him, his voice slurred, endlessly murmuring the names of his “sunshine” and her son. And that day was precisely when his “sunshine” had returned from overseas. Finn, with his congenital hearing impairment, still clung to his father’s neck, asking me joyfully: “Mommy, is it because I scored a hundred on my test that Daddy finally likes me?” I knelt, pulling him into my embrace, explaining through reddened eyes: “It’s because the person Daddy loves has returned, so Daddy is very happy.” “But we also need to leave Daddy and live our own lives now.” 1 The next morning, I submitted my resignation at the office. Mr. Davis, my manager, looked at me in surprise: “You’re resigning?” “Mr. Evans just promoted you to department head. Why would you resign now?” Hearing that familiar name, the smile on my face stiffened even further. Mark Evans was my boss, and the father of my child. Nine years ago, I was his personal assistant. One wild night, fueled by alcohol, we had a child. This year marked our eighth year of a hidden marriage. And his eighth year of forbidding our son from calling him “Dad.” Thinking of the hope in Finn’s eyes last night, and the name David had continuously whispered. I used the excuse I’d prepared long ago, telling Mr. Davis: “Finn’s father has settled abroad and called us to join him, so we can finally be a complete family.” Hearing this, Mr. Davis nodded understandingly: “I see. We thought you were a single mom.” A single mom? Hearing that term, I couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh. My eyes were full of unshed tears. I wasn’t a single mom, but I was worse off than one. I had a husband, my son had a father, yet he wouldn’t spare us even a glance. The tears welling in my eyes became impossible to hold back. I quickly thanked Mr. Davis and walked out of the office. In the hallway, David was showing Chloe around the company. The woman walked ahead, a gentle smile on her face. David walked behind her, his eyes never leaving her. A female colleague, Maya, unaware of the truth, pulled me over to watch the spectacle. “Hey, Grace, do you think Mr. Evans is finally thawing out?” I managed a strained smile. An iron tree blooms only after decades. But David… Even if I waited a lifetime, he would never truly look at me. In the fleeting moment we passed, I couldn’t help but call out to him: “Dav…” I’d barely started when David shot me a chilling glare. “Assistant Miller, do you need something?” His distant words held a warning, a warning for me to swallow the words in my mouth. A warning for me to remember my place. I lowered my eyes, using my last bit of strength to hide the redness in their corners. “My apologies, Mr. Evans.” David grunted in acknowledgment, not breaking his stride, as if he were passing a stranger. I laughed at myself, swallowing the news of my resignation I had originally intended to tell him. He wouldn’t care anyway. Sitting back at my desk, I saw a voice message from Finn on his smart watch. “Mommy, I thought about it. Let’s give Daddy three more chances, okay?” “If… he really doesn’t like us, then we’ll leave him forever.” Last night, after I suggested to Finn that we leave David. Finn had been silent for a long time. He didn’t understand why his father didn’t like him. Nor did he understand why his father would give such a precious gift to a child he didn’t like. He just held out the toy in his hand to me. “But Mommy, Daddy just gave me a gift. If he doesn’t like me, why would he give me a gift?” His expression was so eager, so desperate to prove he was a child loved by his father. I parted my lips, but no words came out. He was still small; he didn’t understand the complexities between adults. He couldn’t even clearly hear his father’s murmurs when David held him. He just mistook that name for his own. Mistook that love as a belated gift for himself. I kissed Finn’s forehead, fighting the urge to sob, and said with a smile: “Daddy gave you a gift because you’ve been doing your homework so well lately.” “But, Daddy… he doesn’t like us staying in his house…” “Mommy will take you away, okay?” Finn pulled back his hand, clutching the toy David had given him tightly. He didn’t speak another word all night. Looking at Finn’s request now, I swallowed my tears and answered, “Okay.” David, Finn and I will give you three more chances. After three chances. You and us, we’ll be done. 2 Hearing me agree, Finn excitedly made his first request. He wanted his dad to pick him up from school. Finn had told me before. From kindergarten to elementary, every kid had their dad pick them up from school. Only he didn’t. I knew this was Finn’s hope, so I swallowed my pride and called David. The call was immediately hung up. He sent a text message with just two words. “Busy now.” It was his usual line. But from my desk, I could see him and Chloe in the break room, deep in conversation, looking quite intimate. When someone passed by, he instinctively pulled Chloe closer, his eyes filled with an undeniable tenderness. Pushing down the bitterness in my heart, I sent David another message. “Finn wants you to pick him up from school today. Are you free tonight?” From the break room, I saw David pick up his phone, then put it down less than three seconds later, his expression unchanged. Looking at the chat screen, which remained without a reply, I gave a self-deprecating laugh. I asked Mr. Davis for some time off, planning to leave work early to buy Finn some of his favorite snacks. While snacks couldn’t fully compensate for his dad not being there, I couldn’t let Finn be hurt anymore. But just as I finished checking out at the grocery store, David, as if he’d just seen my message, replied: “Okay.” A surge of surprise instantly filled my heart. I practically couldn’t wait to message Finn: “Finn, be a good boy at the school gate.” “Today, Daddy and Mommy will pick you up from school together!” Without even seeing Finn’s reply, I could already imagine his excited expression. His little hands clapping, showing off his two small canine teeth, burrowing into our embrace, Sweetly calling out “Daddy” and “Mommy.” That was the happiest scene I had imagined in eight years of marriage. At Finn’s school gate, I looked around but didn’t see David. Thinking he might be delayed, I quickly sent him another message, urging him. Soon, Finn’s class emerged. He rushed towards me, just as I’d imagined, full of excitement. But seeing only me, he froze, a little dazed. Finn lowered his head, adjusted his backpack strap, and asked me: “He didn’t want to come, did he?” Then, he smiled, pretending not to care, with an air of maturity beyond his years. “It’s okay. Daddy’s busy, I understand.” Listening to Finn’s understanding words, my chest felt as if it were crushed by a heavy stone. The pain was so intense I could barely breathe. “Finn, it’s okay. Mommy’s here, isn’t she?” “And I bought you lots of your favorite snacks.” “And a Transformer toy, too.” I sniffled, quickly pulling out the gifts I’d prepared for him. But in my haste, I fumbled, and the items in my hand scattered across the ground with a clatter. Finn knelt down, carefully putting everything back into the bag, one by one. He tugged my hand and said: “Mommy, let’s go home.” I nodded, and on the side Finn couldn’t see, I wiped away my tears. I took out my phone, intending to call a car to go home. But as soon as I opened my phone, I saw Chloe’s social media post. In the photo, the usually stern man wore a smile I had never seen before. His arms were open, embracing a strange little boy. And their location was at Finn’s school. I looked up, searching frantically, and then suddenly caught sight of that familiar figure. David was wearing the coat I had given him last year for our wedding anniversary. I suppressed my emotions, picked up Finn, and started walking away. Finn’s voice, suddenly very soft, reached my ear: “Mommy, that looks like Daddy.” I pressed Finn’s forehead to my chest, shielding his view, biting my lip hard. “Silly boy, you’re mistaken. How could that be Daddy?” “Daddy just told Mommy he’s in a meeting.” “When Daddy finishes his meeting, he’ll bring you your favorite cake.” I forced a smile, trying to comfort Finn. I held him even tighter. David, if you knew that you had only two chances left with Finn and me, Would you regret it? 3 David came home the next afternoon. He carried a cake, a rare hint of apology on his face. “Sorry, I was too busy yesterday. Couldn’t pick up Finn. My bad.” He certainly owed an apology, but I wouldn’t accept it. The damage was done; no amount of compensation could cover it. I silently took the cake, And was surprised to find it was truly Finn’s favorite teddy bear cake. In eight years of marriage, David had never remembered Finn’s preferences. For Finn’s last birthday, I was the one who bought the gifts and cake. He merely made an appearance. The gift he gave Finn then was just a freebie from the gift he bought for Chloe’s son. Now, looking at the cake before me, I had a bad feeling. But Finn was overjoyed. He excitedly hugged David and said: “Uncle, thank you.” Watching Finn’s lips, I knew he had meant to say “Daddy.” But in this moment of happiness, he feared David might show any displeasure. And then he wouldn’t like him anymore. Finn’s thoughtfulness and caution made my eyes sting. I was about to say something to David, But he suddenly pulled me aside. As if he had something to say. “I heard from Chloe that Finn’s school is having a parent-child sports day.” “Chloe is alone with her son, and they just moved here. They don’t know anyone.” “I want to attend with them.” Hearing his words, I felt a chill spread through my entire body. My gaze drifted to Finn, who was happily eating cake in the living room. I said nothing. He seemed to sense my mood. He parted his lips, his tone softening unusually: “You can spend whatever you want from the card. Find an excuse, take Finn on a trip abroad.” “Otherwise, he’ll be unhappy if he sees me with someone else.” He said it so easily. But he already knew Chloe’s son and Finn were at the same school. And he knew Finn would be unhappy seeing him play with someone else’s child. Yet he still chose to do this. He’d rather I lie, to deceive our son. Than not accompany Chloe and her son. My nails dug into my palms. I looked at the man I had spent so many years with, And felt like he was a complete stranger. He didn’t know, He had lost another chance. He had only one chance left. “Understood.” “I’ll pack our things as quickly as possible and take Finn away. We won’t disturb you.” Since we were leaving anyway, a little sooner or later made no difference. Seeing my prompt agreement, David was taken aback. “I will compensate you two.” I didn’t look up, just remained silent. After David left, I thought for a moment, then delicately told Finn about it. “Finn, Daddy might not be able to join you for the parent-child sports day this weekend.” “Mommy’s thinking of taking you to Disneyland instead. How does that sound?” Finn’s happy expression from eating cake froze. He asked me, a little confused: “Daddy’s not coming to the sports day, but Mommy can come with me. Why do we have to go to Disneyland?” I clutched my clothes, afraid to meet Finn’s eyes: “Because, Mommy doesn’t want those other kids to laugh at you for not having a daddy anymore.” But Finn calmly opened his arms, embracing me, As if to comfort me: “It’s okay, Mommy. I’m already used to it.” “Don’t be sad.” I froze, tears finally streaming down my face, unstoppable. How could I tell Finn the cruel truth? Should I tell him that his father didn’t want to see him because he was going to play with other children? Or should I tell him that his father didn’t love us, only others and their children? I couldn’t say anything. I could only silently swallow the bitterness and heartache, and as before, protect my child with a sugarcoated truth. I kissed Finn’s forehead, wiping away my tears where he couldn’t see them. This was a mother’s pretense, maintained even in ultimate pain. I knelt down, holding Finn’s small hand, forcing a smile. “Finn…” But before I could finish, Finn spoke first: “Mommy, does Daddy really not want us anymore?” 4 “No, Finn, no.” I shook my head, not wanting Finn to be so sad, desperately trying to deny the truth. I wanted to tell him, Dad still has one more chance. To tell him not to rush. But Finn, instead, took my hand, drawing closer into my embrace. “Mommy, let’s go. I don’t want to give Uncle another chance anymore.” I looked up in disbelief, only to see Finn’s eyes slightly red. My child, so well-behaved, so understanding. All he ever wanted was a tiny bit of affection from his own father. Just a little bit. He used to think his dad disliked him because he wasn’t good at school, which was why he wouldn’t let him call him “Dad.” But he studied so hard, getting perfect scores in every subject, even insisting on going to class when he had a fever. David, still wouldn’t let him say “Dad.” Later, he thought his dad disliked him because of his bad hearing, not being able to understand people. So no matter how painful the surgeries and treatments were, he insisted I take him to the hospital. But now, his hearing was gradually recovering. David had still not given him a single smile. Instead, he whispered another person’s name in his ear. My heart ached so much I could barely breathe. Closing my eyes, I agreed to Finn’s request. “Okay.” David, this time, Finn and I, we won’t want you anymore. We started packing our luggage together. Everything David had ever given to Finn and me, we left it all behind in that house. Finn’s face was bright with a radiant smile again. Like a little man, he helped me carry the luggage downstairs. And the day our flight took off, Was also the day David was supposed to attend Chloe’s son’s parent-child sports day. The night before, he had been afraid we would disturb his and Chloe’s family happiness. He made a special trip home to see us. His attitude was unusually gentle. He even took the initiative to hold a gift, wanting to hug Finn. But facing the embrace of the father he had once yearned for, Finn pulled away. He stood to the side, not taking David’s gift, and said: “Thank you, Uncle David. You can just put the gift on the coffee table.” Hearing the title Finn used, A flicker of panic suddenly crossed David’s face. He looked at me in disbelief: “Finn… what did he call me?” I smiled, feeling a bitter irony. “Isn’t this what you always wanted, Mr. Evans?” Eight years of hidden marriage, David not only kept our relationship a secret. He never even let Finn call him “Dad.” The only difference was, Before, he forced Finn to call him “Uncle.” Now, Finn was actively drawing a line between them. David looked at me, his eyes complex: “Is this about the parent-child sports day?” “I can explain it to Finn.” I reminded him: “Then what about Chloe? How will you explain it to her and her son?” David seemed to just realize, reluctantly releasing my hand. I scoffed, and took Finn’s hand, ready to leave. Only then did David notice the packed luggage of Finn and me. He asked, surprised: “You’re going on a trip abroad, do you need to bring this much luggage?” I smiled calmly: “Yes, when a child travels, they need to bring a lot of things.” “Mr. Evans has never taken care of a child, so it’s normal that you wouldn’t know.” In those few short sentences, I clearly articulated David’s indifference to our family over the years. A rare look of apology and panic appeared on his face. He blocked our path to the car and said: “When’s your flight? I’ll drive you.” “Tomorrow.” I said it directly. Because I knew he would absolutely not show up tomorrow. David froze for a moment, saying nothing, only telling us: “Then be careful, you’re traveling alone with the child.” His concerned eyes met ours. But we, we no longer cared. Waking up the next day, I took Finn into the private car bound for the airport. Just as we arrived at the airport, preparing to check in our luggage, I heard a voice behind me: “Grace, Finn!” David, who should have been at the parent-child sports day, came rushing, his face beaming as he looked at us: “Finn, how about Daddy comes with you to Orlando Disney? Are you happy?” This was the first time he had openly acknowledged himself as Finn’s father. But looking at the suitcase in his hand, Finn waved his hand, decisively refusing: “No, thank you, Uncle David. Mommy and I are going to Australia to find my dad.” “Please don’t disturb us anymore.”

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I found a limping girl in the remote mountains. As I was bandaging her wound, a flurry of bullet comments flashed across my vision: 「Stop immediately! This is your fiancé’s lifesaver!」 「Save her, and your engagement party will be ruined.」 「Don’t believe it? Just look at the bangle on her wrist!」 I instinctively tightened the tourniquet in my hand. On the last night of our project’s resource survey, a landslide trapped us in a secluded village. My engagement party with Julian Sterling was two days away. We were from matching prominent families, childhood sweethearts, and our union meant our two families’ cooperation would deepen. More importantly, Julian was incredibly good to me, almost to the point of being completely compliant. He seemed particularly fond of tracing the bangle on my wrist. No matter how severe our arguments, as soon as he saw my wrist, he would calm down and apologize. I had been looking forward to this engagement for a long time. The thought of potentially not making it back left me feeling agitated. “Ah!” A girl’s sharp gasp came from the doorway, followed by the scolding voice of an older woman. It was Mrs. Finch, the woman we were staying with, and her daughter, Lyra. The young girl timidly held a large bowl of soup. She had accidentally spilled some, and Mrs. Finch was now berating her: “You worthless, clumsy good-for-nothing!” A few colleagues from the project team exchanged glances, sighing softly. Mrs. Finch was a typical rural woman who heavily favored sons, treating her own with extreme preciousness. She had repeatedly hinted that she hoped we could take her son, Jed, to the city to find work. Jed Finch was an idle loafer who had long dropped out of school, holed up in a dilapidated internet cafe at the village entrance, playing games. But the Finch family’s daughter was different. The young girl was thoughtful. On the first day she sheltered us, she mended Mr. Thompson’s aged trousers and even ran to the village head to buy me feminine hygiene products. Listening to Mrs. Finch’s increasingly vulgar and loud curses, Mr. Thompson couldn’t bear it— “Ma’am, is the soup ready?” Mrs. Finch finally stopped. “Oh, coming right away—” We had paid a hefty fee to stay at the Finch’s, so her attitude was surprisingly pleasant. “You worthless brat, hurry up and get the bowls!” The girl rushed out, stumbled, and a stack of bowls crashed to the ground with a clatter— It was then I noticed her right foot was a little lame; she struggled to run. She had also fallen to the ground, scraping her skin. “You good-for-nothing—!” I grabbed Mrs. Finch’s arm, handing her a hundred-dollar bill. “She’s still young, accidents happen. Let’s just buy some new bowls.” Mrs. Finch snatched the money, a forced smile on her face: “Young? She’s twenty! Useless, and a cripple too!” I subtly shifted my right foot, hiding it. Years ago, an accident had left my right foot somewhat deformed. Seeing this girl, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of empathy. But I was surprised the young girl was already twenty; she looked so thin and sallow. I took out a tourniquet and antiseptic from my backpack, carefully cleaning her wound. Mrs. Finch was still muttering, asking us to take her son away: “Isn’t Van Industries running a Community Uplift Initiative? Take my son! Train him well; he’ll definitely make something of himself…” The Community Uplift Initiative was for sponsoring disadvantaged students, not for housing grown-up freeloaders. If we were to take anyone from the Finch family, it would be better to take this girl. I heard she dropped out after freshman year of high school, called home by Mrs. Finch to cook and await marriage. But because of her limp, the bride price talks always fell through, so she remained unmarried. I asked her softly: “Do you want to continue your studies? I can—” Suddenly, my vision blurred, and a vast stream of bullet comments appeared before my eyes: 【You cannot!!】 【Don’t be foolish. This is your fiancé’s lifesaver. Take her back, and your engagement party will be ruined!】 【If you don’t believe it, look at her wrist! Is there an antique carved bangle on it?!】 I instinctively tightened the tourniquet in my hand, looking towards her sleeve. Everyone in my circle envied me for having a fiancé like Julian Sterling—devoted, deeply loving, and gentle. We had grown up together, experiencing both success and crises. He always kissed my wrist again and again. I had even joked: “If you like it so much, you can have this bangle.” But he always refused, only saying he loved me immensely. Before the bullet comments scrolled wildly, I had never once thought that he didn’t love me, but rather the bangle on my wrist. … “Ms. Van?” I snapped back to reality, realizing I had been staring at the young girl’s sleeve for too long. She smiled bashfully, touching her wrist— “This was my grandmother’s.” An antique carved bangle, with a flat wooden band. It happened to look very similar to the one on my own wrist. The only difference was the color. Mine was a deep brown, while Lyra’s was a light peach-wood color. For some reason, I vaguely felt her bangle also looked familiar. 【We told you so! Julian Sterling only treats you so well because he mistakenly believes you’re his lifesaver.】 【If you bring this girl back and Julian finds out the truth, he’ll think you deliberately schemed to replace his idealized first love, and he’ll seek crazy revenge on you!】 The bullet comments said I lived in a “white moonlight” angst novel. If I, out of kindness, rescued Lyra from the Finch family’s hellhole, my fiancé, Julian Sterling, would see Lyra’s bangle at the engagement ceremony and call off the wedding on the spot. Later, Julian and Lyra would go through a series of dramatic, angsty “you chase, I run” scenarios. Whenever the plot stagnated, Julian would blame my existence for hindering their relationship. If I hadn’t impersonated her, he wouldn’t have missed his idealized first love for so many years. So he would use my feelings for him, seize the opportunity to retaliate, crushing Van Industries and humiliating my genuine affection. But I remained innocent throughout. Julian had never explained why he cherished that bangle, nor had he ever spoken to me about the past. He would push me relentlessly until I had nowhere left to retreat, eventually turning completely dark and becoming the novel’s main villain… Ten years after the novel’s publication, a new batch of readers arrived. This new generation of readers deemed the plot utterly nonsensical, rallying to my defense. Under their collective petition, the story rewound to its starting point. I became the protagonist, and the story began anew. 【As long as you pretend to know nothing, leave the mountain village, and completely cut off the Finch family from external contact, Julian Sterling will never discover the truth!】 【Actually, before the “little white flower” Lyra appeared, Julian Sterling was still very good to the female lead.】 【Men are always susceptible to temptation. If you can mitigate the risk beforehand, there’s no need to cause yourself trouble. The female lead must not be a bleeding heart!】 The bullet comments argued incessantly. I finished applying the last bandage and helped Lyra up. “You still haven’t answered me. Do you want to continue your studies?” Mrs. Finch was very reluctant. But Mr. Thompson casually mentioned that he had a relative whose daughter, after graduating from a prestigious university, received a bride price of half a million dollars. Mrs. Finch’s face immediately lit up. “Can she still study at her age?” Lyra also looked anxious. “Ms. Van, I dropped out four years ago…” The less-than-fairytale truth was that Lyra’s grades weren’t particularly good back then either. But I always felt that reading more books and seeing more of the world might lead to more choices for a person. This was also why I insisted on promoting the Community Uplift Initiative alongside the engineering project. Because I also had someone I wanted to repay. Lyra resembled her greatly. “It’s almost June. If you still haven’t decided, I invite you to my graduation ceremony.” It wouldn’t be too late to decide after seeing a university for yourself. After the plane landed, I momentarily zoned out. “Ms. Van?” I touched my wrist. It was still Lyra who arranged for Lyra and me to exit through two different channels. Julian Sterling was coming to pick me up. Although the bullet comments seemed sincere, after so many years of shared history, I wanted to give Julian one more chance. Perhaps the bangle was just a catalyst, not the sole reason for his affection. Upon disembarking, Julian Sterling, holding a bouquet of tulips, stood out with his distinguished aura. He stepped forward to take my hand. Then he froze. He looked down at my bare wrist. “Serena, where’s your bangle?” I feigned complaint: “It got scratched during the survey, so I sent it for repairs. I can’t even remember how many years I’ve worn it. It feels strange not having it on.” “Ten years.” He said softly. My heart skipped a beat. The bangle was won at an auction, and I remember clearly, that auction was six years ago. —The girl in Julian Sterling’s memory wasn’t me. I smiled, shaking my head. “How could that be? Ten years ago, I was still wearing Grandma’s jade. It broke in an accident later.” Julian Sterling’s steps faltered. He seemed nonchalant, but I could hear a slight tremor in his voice. “Grandma’s jade? Wasn’t your grandmother’s gift the antique one?” I firmly denied it. “No, the antique one was an auction purchase.” Since the bullet comments claimed Julian would later believe I intentionally impersonated her, I might as well clarify now that I was never his lifesaver. Save myself the trouble of being blamed later. If I’m not your lifesaver, will I still be your lover? I watched Julian Sterling’s pupils contract in surprise, disbelief, anxiety, then calm. Then he didn’t release my hand. “Perhaps I misremembered,” he said. The engagement ceremony was being meticulously prepared. The people I sent returned with information. After taking me home, Julian Sterling immediately contacted a private investigator to look into what happened ten years ago. The materials were delivered to me first. I finally learned the “truth” the bullet comments spoke of— Ten years ago, a large-scale cross-state human trafficking case occurred. Julian Sterling and Lyra were both caught up in it. While held captive, Julian’s eyes were temporarily blinded. It was young Lyra who meticulously cared for him. But after the rescue, Julian and Lyra lost contact. He only remembered the young girl who cared for him had an antique carved bangle on her wrist. Julian and I were childhood sweethearts, originally just friends, until I wore the bangle I bought at auction, and Julian accidentally saw it. He began to pursue me fiercely. Too much time had passed. Perhaps Julian couldn’t quickly find Lyra, but he could definitely confirm that my bangle was indeed auctioned six years ago. “Serena, coming to try on your dress?” My bridesmaids called out. I shook my head. “There might not be an engagement party.” But until the night before the engagement, I received no “engagement cancellation” message from the Sterling family. Julian Sterling clearly knew the truth, yet still chose to continue with me. I still held a sliver of hope. Julian Sterling wasn’t the absurd “bangle-sexual” type mentioned in the bullet comments, loving whoever wore the bangle. Among a room full of esteemed guests, we raised our glasses together. I spoke playfully: “You always cared so much about that bangle, I thought you were looking for someone through it.” This was my last chance for him to confess. But Julian Sterling kissed my cheek. “There’s no one. I love you.” Adults have the right to make their own choices. Julian Sterling chose me, whether out of love or practicality. And I, out of practicality, gladly accepted his choice. After the engagement, relying on our marital ties, I quickly took leadership of all integrated product lines within Van Industries and Sterling Corp. partnerships. Compared to outsiders, Julian’s family clearly trusted me more. After all, a daughter-in-law was “family” sooner or later. I made time to visit Lyra. She hesitated for a long time, finally calling me the moment she saw students at a graduation ceremony waving their caps. “Ms. Van, I want to go to college.” When she was most desperate, trapped in that mountain village, she handed me a pack of feminine products. I repaid her with three years of student aid. Up to this point, everything was proceeding in an orderly fashion. I seemed to have, as the bullet comments wished, avoided Julian and Lyra meeting, confessed the bangle’s origin to Julian, proceeded with the Sterling marriage, and gained a capable partner and business resources. Until I discovered Julian Sterling secretly volunteered as a teacher in a remote area. Before final exams, I went to visit Lyra. I called beforehand. She was older than her classmates, but shy, speaking softly and sweetly. “We have a new volunteer teacher, Mr. Sterling. He’s also from Rosewood, like you, Ms. Van.” I froze. Rosewood was quite far from the mountain village; it was unusual to volunteer there specifically. “Mr. Sterling is a little strange.” “Did he bother you?” My voice was serious. “No, no, he seems nice to me, but I just feel uncomfortable…” I happened to have something to do in the village soon. I’d go check out what this volunteer teacher was all about. … When I arrived, I overheard a few girls gossiping. “What’s the deal with Lyra and the new Mr. Sterling? Is she trying to seduce him, hoping he’ll take her to the city when he leaves?” “No way, Lyra seems so well-behaved.” “Well-behaved? Then why does Mr. Sterling only answer her questions, and even bring her snacks and books? He glares at others who ask for help; I don’t even dare to ask questions anymore!” “Oh my god, a teacher-student romance? No wonder Lyra dropped out before. Could it be a repeat offense…?” I listened, my brow furrowed. It clearly sounded like the teacher’s problem, yet the ambiguous speculation and rumors fell onto the student. A teacher who allowed a teacher-student relationship to develop was already ethically compromised. I had to tell Lyra to keep her distance from that volunteer teacher. When I found Lyra, she was studying, working on a test. I happened to spot a missing condition in her solution steps. So I feigned a stern expression and tapped the desk— “Careless, little sister…” Lyra looked back in surprise, but before she could speak, a hurried voice suddenly interrupted— “Serena Van, what are you doing!” I was suddenly pushed aside, my elbow slamming into the back desk. The newcomer firmly shielded Lyra, his expression tense, a lesson plan in his hand. It turned out. The new volunteer teacher was Julian Sterling. The classroom desks were old and broken, with protruding nails. My arm was cut open, bleeding profusely. But my fiancé seemed not to notice, spreading his arms like a mother hen, terrified I would devour Lyra whole. “Serena, are you stalking me? What couldn’t you resolve in Rosewood that you had to come all this way to harass Lyra!” He thought I had followed him. My heart chilled inch by inch. I thought that after knowing the truth, for Julian, our years of shared feelings outweighed the childhood debt of gratitude, which was why he honored our engagement. I hadn’t realized he was having his cake and eating it too. Engaged to me, while flying to a mountain village to be a protective knight. “And you, Julian Sterling, why are you here?” Julian Sterling’s expression was pained. “Serena, I’ve been looking for someone. Before, I mistakenly thought it was you, but I only recently discovered the truth.” “I couldn’t wrong you, so I still got engaged to you.” “But I also can’t wrong Lyra.” “I gave you the engagement, and the partnership with Sterling Corp. Can’t you be a little understanding and let me repay a life-saving debt? Lyra’s family treats her badly, I really can’t bear it…” I suddenly felt that the “good guy” Julian Sterling, who had resided in my heart for the past few years, shattered, revealing a real, selfish, hypocritical man. Ever since I first saw the bullet comments, a sword had been hanging over my head. At this moment, it suddenly fell. It severed the last bit of false hope in my heart. “Julian Sterling.” I cut him off. “Did you only learn the truth after our engagement?” He was speechless, silent for a long moment. So, he had actually confirmed the truth before the engagement, but weighed the pros and cons and chose to proceed with me. “Second question.” “Did you really only realize something was wrong, that I might not be your lifesaver, when I sent my bangle for repairs?” After seeing the bullet comments, I had thought about it carefully. It seemed strange. In that accident, though Julian’s eyes were temporarily blinded and he was terrified, His family and mine were old acquaintances. Even if a child’s memory isn’t deep, he should have been able to tell if it was me. Even if, in a state of extreme panic, he didn’t recognize me, once rescued and grown, he should have regained his senses. Lyra’s bangle, though similar to mine, had distinct scuff marks, and the carving patterns were different. For six long years, why did Julian never seek confirmation, stubbornly believing that the person with the bangle was his destined love? Unless he already intended to pursue me. Six years ago, Van Industries’ stock soared, and multiple product lines expanded into new markets. It was a thriving period. And Julian, as one of many Sterling descendants, wasn’t particularly prominent. To gain attention and secure resources for himself, he needed to win my favor. So for six years, he never sought confirmation. It satisfied his need for gain and alleviated his guilt over the “debt of gratitude.” Until he graduated, we got engaged, leaving other Sterling descendants far behind. His rare flicker of “pure love” rekindled, and he couldn’t help but seek out his true beloved. “Third question, does Lyra know the truth?” Why did a volunteer teacher suddenly appear? Why did Mr. Sterling care for her so much, only to bring baseless rumors? I always thought the plotline of “repaying kindness with marriage” was absurd. If the other party is uninterested, isn’t that just repaying kindness with malice? Julian Sterling took a deep breath. “I originally planned to keep it from you. I didn’t want Lyra to affect our marriage. Once we were married, I would settle her in Hong Kong. I promise she wouldn’t bother you.” I showed an incredulous expression. Then he turned and gently stroked Lyra’s head. “I’m sorry it took me so long to find you. Ten years ago, you saved my life. I was that blinded little boy, Jules. Do you remember?” Two pairs of eyes simultaneously looked at Lyra. From the moment Julian first burst into the classroom, Lyra had been pushed behind him, struggling to interject. The young girl fiercely pushed Julian’s hand away, her voice clear— “I don’t remember. Mr. Sterling, are you mistaken?” The bullet comments scrolled wildly, filled with “OMG”s and “WTF”s. 【Can someone check the original plot? Was Julian Sterling’s lifesaver really not Lyra?】 【Upstairs, I’m checking… Lyra, it seems, really didn’t admit to saving anyone!】 【Julian didn’t even ask…?】 【Isn’t that his usual move? The self-deluded silent type.】 【Is the male lead a ‘bangle-sexual’? He loves whoever has the bangle. Was he a bangle spirit in his past life?】 Julian Sterling refused to believe it. He insisted I had threatened Lyra, making her afraid to tell the truth. Eventually, Lyra grew exasperated. “If you don’t believe me, ask my mom and my brother! I’ve never left the village!” “Fine! Then we’ll go to your house! I don’t believe your whole family has been bought off by Serena Van!” We marched in a large group to the Finch family home, expecting it would only take a word from Mrs. Finch. But to our surprise, when Julian, with his authoritative demeanor, asked Mrs. Finch if Lyra had ever been to Rosewood, or if she had been abducted, Mrs. Finch’s expression grew frantic, and she dropped the cup in her hand. “There’s no such thing! No, no…” She fiercely pulled Lyra towards her. “Did this brat cause trouble at school? I told you girls don’t need to read too many books; once they do, their minds go wild! Did she say something crazy?” “This girl is a habitual liar! Don’t let her trick you!” Mrs. Finch’s voice was sharp and cruel, her squinting eyes filled with wariness and calculation. Lyra’s brother, Jed Finch, was lounging in the house, basking in the sun, and he had the same squinting eyes as Mrs. Finch. But Lyra had round eyes. Mrs. Finch was stout and thick-limbed, but Lyra’s figure was delicate, like a kitten… A bizarre suspicion suddenly formed in my mind. That bangle… Six years ago, I had bid for it at an auction because I felt an inexplicable familiarity, a strange fondness for it. Where had I seen it before, even earlier than meeting Lyra, even earlier than the auction? I interrupted Julian’s endless chatter. “Mrs. Finch, do you have any photos of Lyra as a child?” “Why would I have such a thing…” I continued to search the house as I asked. Mrs. Finch doted on her son. Though they weren’t wealthy, the house displayed several photos of her son and family portraits. Not this one, not this one, this one… I found it! Mrs. Finch also realized something was wrong and lunged forward, trying to snatch the photo from my hand— It was only a second, a fleeting glimpse of the little girl pushed to the side, but it was enough for me to clearly see young Lyra’s face in the photo. Familiar. Like someone from my past. I was determined to take Lyra with me. Mrs. Finch wailed, pointing her finger at me, cursing: “She’s stealing people in broad daylight!” Her eyes darted around. “If you want to take this girl, fine. Leave the bride price! That Mr. Thompson of yours said that girls who’ve studied should get half a million!” Ironically, Julian Sterling, who had just fiercely protected his “wife” in front of me, who had promised to protect Lyra thoroughly, Now tried to persuade me. “Lyra is still a Finch family member. You can’t just take her away.” He knew perfectly well that Mrs. Finch and her son treated Lyra horribly, often beating and scolding her, seeing their daughter as merely a tool for making money. Yet he wasn’t willing to rescue her from her misery. —I bluntly called out his thoughts.

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In my previous life, my wife and I shared forty years, a harmonious, devoted marriage. Our son was dutiful and intelligent, becoming a renowned medical expert both domestically and abroad. Surrounded by grandchildren, my wife and I treated each other with respect, and I lived out my sixty years in blissful contentment. After my death, my soul lingered in the world. To my shock, my seemingly loving wife hadn’t shed a single tear for me. After my cremation, she delayed my burial, instead tossing my urn into a cluttered storage room. My son, renowned for his filial piety, was actually eagerly urging his mother: “Mom, hurry and book the burial plot. Dad’s almost out of time.” Turns out, he wasn’t my biological son. His biannual “overseas assignments” were actually trips to spend time with his real father. And my wife’s annual “sister trips” were, in fact, rendezvous with her lover. They used my money to support another man, and after my death, they begrudged me even a burial plot. The pain was unbearable. When I opened my eyes again, I heard shouts: “Someone fell into the water! Quick, save them!” In my previous life, Jane Evans had, in a fit of pique with David Carter, jumped into the river. At the brink of death, David hesitated. As the son of the Evans family’s housekeeper, I risked my own safety to save Jane and ended up permanently disabled. In gratitude, she became my wife. Reborn, I pushed David Carter forward. This life, I’ll make sure you two get your happy ending. … David Carter, shoved forward by me, his eyes flashed with momentary anger, but he suppressed it, aware of the onlookers. “Mr. Carter, where are you going? Ms. Evans is in the water! Aren’t you going to save her?” Seeing everyone’s gaze fixed on him, I unhesitatingly turned to leave. But he blocked my path again. David stared at me coldly: “Arthur Hayes, you’re her family’s servant. You owe the Evans family a great debt. Now is the time to repay it! Get down there and save her! If anything happens to Jane, the Evans family will never let you go!” In my previous life, David was also present, but my eagerness to save Jane, and his cowardice, gave me the opportunity. I suppressed a cold sneer, feigning difficulty: “Mr. Carter, I was actually looking for you. I can’t swim. You, on the other hand, are the swim team captain. This chance for a heroic rescue should naturally go to you.” Only then did the crowd react. “Oh, it’s Mr. Carter! I heard the Carter and Evans families had an arranged marriage since childhood. Hurry and save her!” “I heard Ms. Evans and Mr. Carter were even a campus celebrity couple in college! Perfect for a heroic rescue!” Whispers rose and fell, and David was caught between a rock and a hard place. I tried to slip away amidst the confusion, but then Jane Evans’s cry for help came from behind me: “Arthur, save me! I know you like me! If you save me, I’ll marry you, okay?!” The crowd’s gaze shifted to me again. David’s eyes were shadowed with malice: “Ha, you’re not actually taking her seriously, are you? Jane’s just arguing with me. But since your young mistress has spoken, aren’t you going to save her?” I turned to look at the woman in the river. That face I had loved for decades, now smooth and youthful, free of wrinkles. But my heart, at the sight of her, was brutally torn. She knew I couldn’t swim, yet she wouldn’t let her lover risk himself. I suppressed the bitterness and feigned difficulty: “Ms. Evans, I can’t swim.” She almost eagerly replied: “Arthur, trust me, emergency services will be here soon. You’ll be fine.” I froze. Her eyes darted away: “I… I’m just guessing.” I instantly understood—she had been reborn too. After two lifetimes, she still wouldn’t let me go! Fury almost consumed my reason. I clenched my fists, feigning reluctance: “Ms. Evans, Mr. Carter is your childhood sweetheart. It wouldn’t be right for me to steal his thunder. Besides, how could I dare like you? You’ve misunderstood.” As the words fell, the scene went silent. Jane Evans almost forgot to struggle, standing stunned in the water. Was it my imagination, or was there a hint of panic in her eyes, besides shock? I turned sharply and left the scene. In my previous life, when Jane fell into the water, I plunged in to save her. A piece of wire scraped my leg. By the time I was rescued, the wound was bone-deep. Even with the doctors’ best efforts, they couldn’t save my right leg. I became a cripple. Jane, in gratitude, became my girlfriend. Two years later, we married. A year into our marriage, our son was born, intelligent and adorable. As our son grew, my responsibilities weighed heavier. Due to my disability, I endured countless stares and cold shoulders. For my wife and son, I worked three jobs a day, starting as a concrete worker, gradually becoming a contractor, and eventually founding a construction company. I never wanted Jane to suffer. I bought her the biggest house, the latest designer bags, and transferred all my company’s earnings to her immediately. Just because she said “pink diamonds are so beautiful,” I traveled across Africa, selected the largest pink diamond, and personally crafted a unique ring for her. On my return journey, I encountered armed robbers. To protect the ring, I nearly lost my life. When my son grew up, I sent him to the most expensive schools, to tutoring classes that cost two thousand an hour. Rain or shine, I personally drove him everywhere. I nurtured him into a celebrated medical expert overseas. When he married, I gave him a hundred million dollars as starting capital for their new home, and two villas valued at two hundred million. A few years later, he had a child, and I began taking care of my grandchild. I did all the chores, big and small, at home. I never let Jane touch housework; I wanted her to always be beautiful and radiant. And out of trust, I entrusted all our savings, bonds, stock funds, and jewelry to her keeping. I dedicated myself to this family, but due to overwork, I collapsed in my office at sixty years old. At my bedside, I was barely clinging to life. My grandson sweetly called “Grandpa” by my hand. My son held my hand, eyes red-rimmed, while Jane turned away, unable to look at me. Surrounded by my children and grandchildren, my marriage harmonious, I lived out my sixty years in happiness. Perhaps my soul lingered too long in the human world. After my death, my soul stayed, unable to pass on. And because of this, I saw that the moment I drew my last breath, my wife turned away, her face utterly expressionless. My son casually wiped away a tear, then nonchalantly told the nurse: “Pull the tubes. Free up the room for others.” My grandson clung to my son: “Daddy, was my acting good? Daddy promised me a reward, don’t go back on your word.” I was stunned. My body was quickly bagged and sent to the funeral home. My wife didn’t notify any of my friends or relatives. She simply posted a brief message on social media: “Old Arthur passed away this morning. He wanted everything kept simple. I hope everyone won’t be too sad.” My son even went back to work on the very day I died. Under the firelight, I watched my body slowly turn to dust, scattering into the air. And the woman waiting in the lobby was buried in her phone, texting, as if the burning inferno behind her had nothing to do with her. “David, he’s dead. I only have you now.” My soul floated before her, watching her flirt and confide in another man. Later, my urn was taken home by her. My son urged: “Mom, hurry and book the burial plot. Dad’s almost out of time. Do you really want to be buried with this man?” Turns out, the son I cherished wasn’t my biological child at all. His annual “official assignments” were just excuses to see his real father. And the travel photos Jane posted on social media all those years were just quick snapshots she took to show me after being intimate with another man. I saw them standing by David Carter’s hospital bed, Jane weeping inconsolably: “David, you’ll get better.” My ashes were still tossed in the storage room, and they were already preparing for another man’s funeral. The day David died, Jane Evans stood before his newly purchased grave, her face mournful: “I owe David so much in this life. After I die, I want to be buried with him.” My son nodded, choking back tears: “Mom, don’t worry. You’ll definitely be with Dad.” Sixty years of my life felt like a cruel joke. The pain was unbearable. Full of resentment, I lunged at the mother and son, but my body became lighter and lighter. When I opened my eyes again, I was here. Heaven had given me another chance. This life, I decided to live for myself! After returning home, I immediately found Mom and told her I wanted to leave the Evans family. Mom looked troubled: “The Evans family has been very good to us. We can’t forget our roots.” I pleaded patiently: “Mom, do you really want to see your son serve as a servant his whole life? Besides, after all these years, we’ve repaid their kindness.” Mom still hesitated: “But, don’t you like Ms. Evans?” All these years, she had witnessed my devotion to Jane, so she naturally knew my feelings. I shook my head bitterly: “Mom, you misunderstood. I don’t like her.” Before my words finished, a soaking wet Jane Evans rushed over, slapping me hard across the face. When she moved to strike again, I caught her wrist and fiercely flung it away. She gritted her teeth: “You dare resist?! Arthur Hayes! Why didn’t you save me?” I took a step back, my face calm: “I can’t swim.” Jane Evans frowned: “Didn’t you say you’d die for me?!” She remembered the vows I’d made in front of her all those years ago, yet she had completely forgotten how she betrayed me. I laughed: “Ms. Evans, how could you take a servant’s teasing words seriously?” Jane Evans froze, her eyes flashing with shock and disbelief. Indeed, the old me wouldn’t have dared to utter a harsh word in front of her. I started to pull Mom away. She suddenly called out to me. “Stop! It’s all your fault David got hurt! If he ends up a cripple, I won’t let you go! Go to the hospital and apologize to the Carter family right now!” Looking at her furious eyes, my heart was desolate. Ten years of unrequited love, forty years of marriage. I loved her to my very bones, never wanting her to suffer. My conscience was clear, yet in her heart, I was merely David’s scapegoat. Not to mention, in my previous life. David, relying on his connections and influence, made me act like a dog and eat dog food, pushed me down a mountain, made me lick their shoes… The Carter family always doted on their only son. Now, asking me to apologize to them was nothing short of sending me to my death. I wanted to drag Mom and escape. But Jane Evans called for people to pin me to the ground. Mom frantically kowtowed: “Ms. Evans, for Arthur’s sake, as he once saved you, please spare his life! I’m begging you!” Jane Evans merely turned her head: “Arthur Hayes, if you don’t want anything to happen to your mother, come with me quietly.” I almost ground my teeth: “Alright, I’ll go with you.” She caught the suppressed hatred in my eyes, and she froze for a moment. Then, she suddenly ripped the good luck charm from my neck. As if in a fit of pique: “It’s useless for someone like you! A worthless life. It’s better for David to use it!” My eyes burned with rage: “Jane Evans, that’s something my father left for me! Give it back!” How could she not know? In my previous life, on the day she gave birth, I carefully tied this amulet around her neck. I told her: “Jane, the year I was born, a Daoist priest said I would face a tribulation. My father crawled three thousand steps to get this amulet for me, telling me it must never leave my side. Now I give it to you, hoping for safe delivery for you and the baby.” But after my death, she burned it along with all my belongings. Hearing this, Jane Evans paused, then, the next second, walked away quickly. … I was thrown onto the hospital corridor floor. Jane Evans whispered in my ear: “Just apologize properly, get the Carter family to forgive you. I can still let you work for the Evans family.” With that, the hospital room door opened, and David’s parents walked out, their faces grim. “You’re that servant?” Mrs. Carter rushed over, kicking me to the ground. “It’s all because of you! My son will be a cripple for the rest of his life! You, a worthless life, what right did you have to make my son save someone?” Several men rushed over, kicking and punching me. I felt as if all my limbs were splitting open with pain. “Enough.” Jane Evans walked over, seemingly unable to bear the sight of my wounds. “Go apologize to David Carter.” Blood streamed from my forehead, my vision a crimson blur. Her icy gaze softened slightly, and she instinctively reached out to wipe away the blood. I dodged, staggering to my feet. “If I apologize, will you let my mother go?” Jane Evans clenched her fist: “As long as David forgives you, I promise your mother will be fine.” I nodded and walked into the hospital room. The people outside immediately locked the door from the outside. An hour later, I walked out again. The moment Jane Evans saw me, her eyes widened: “Arthur! You!” “Mr. Carter has vented his anger. You can let my mom go now.” With that, I collapsed to the ground. My body had multiple bone-deep wounds. My forehead, limbs, torso—almost no undamaged skin. The nurse who came to bandage me couldn’t bear to look. Jane Evans placed a thermos in front of me: “I heard you had a fever before you came. Eat something. I made this chicken soup myself.” How ridiculous. In my previous life, I doted on her so much that I would even remove the seeds from watermelon before feeding it to her. This life, because of David, she actually cooked for me. I turned my head away: “Ms. Evans, you’ve vented your anger. Can I leave now?” Her face instantly changed. She slammed the thermos to the ground. “Arthur Hayes, what kind of tone is that? If you hadn’t abandoned me, David wouldn’t have had to go into the water to save me, and he wouldn’t have been hurt! Don’t you like me? Why did you stand by and watch me die?!” My tone was nonchalant: “How could a lowly servant like me be worthy of liking you? Ms. Evans must have misunderstood.” Seeing my calm expression, Jane Evans felt an inexplicable panic in her heart, as if something was slipping away. She feigned composure, a mocking smile on her face. “Everyone in River City knows you’re my lapdog, Arthur Hayes. Let me tell you straight, I love David. If I hadn’t been angry with him, you wouldn’t even have had the chance to save me!” I wasn’t angry. I just nodded: “Then I wish Ms. Evans and Mr. Carter happiness and many children! Besides, my amulet has already been broken by Mr. Carter. I probably won’t live much longer. You won’t have to worry about me bothering you anymore.” Jane Evans sprang to her feet, her face pale. “How could that be? I just… I just lent it to him to wear. I didn’t think he’d break it.” “It doesn’t matter,” I said calmly, looking at her. “Consider this life repaid to the Evans family.” She stood up frantically. The fear of losing something made her unable to look me in the eye. She could only suppress the anxiety in her heart, sneering: “So what? You’re just a dog of our Evans family. We feed and clothe you and your mother. What part of you doesn’t belong to the Evans family? Even your life belongs to me!” Just then, a nurse’s voice came from outside the door: “Ms. Evans, Mr. Carter says his wound hurts. He wants you to come check on him.” Jane Evans glanced at me nervously. But she saw I was only looking down. My eyes, once full of love, were now cold. That panicked feeling surged again. But then, she remembered how, in her previous life, no matter how she treated me, I loved her without complaint. It was well known that I, Arthur Hayes, was her devoted follower. If she gave me even a little affection, I would willingly give her my leg, even my life. She relaxed: “I’ll go see David. You rest well. I’ll come visit you. Don’t be difficult.” I was kept under watch, only occasionally hearing the nurses gossip. Jane Evans washed David Carter’s feet. Jane Evans went to pray for an amulet for David, kneeling until her knees were raw. Jane Evans personally made breakfast for David every day… All the things I had done for her in the past, she was now doing for David, one by one. I climbed out of bed, vaguely hearing them mention patellar graft surgery. Turns out, Jane Evans was keeping me captive because she wanted to use my patella to save David. Sure enough, that night, Jane Evans came to my room. She was unusually attentive and enthusiastic, even offering to examine my wounds and apply medicine. I coldly pushed her away: “Ms. Evans, is there something you need?” My coldness made her slightly flustered. But she still shook her head. After all, in my previous life, I loved her so much. Besides, it was just one leg. “Arthur, I promise you, the Evans family will take care of you for life. Don’t you like me? I can be your girlfriend, as long as you graft your patella to David Carter.” I laughed through tears. “Jane Evans, have you ever considered how difficult life would be if I became crippled?” She was indifferent: “David is so outstanding; he can’t be disabled. Besides… it’s just one leg, isn’t it? You love me so much, are you unwilling to make even this small sacrifice?” I looked at her, feeling as if decades had passed in an instant, leaving only disgust. All the cold stares I endured in my previous life due to my limp—she had never felt a hint of heartache over them. After a long pause, I nodded: “Alright, but first, I need to see my mother.” Jane Evans happily lunged into my arms: “Arthur, I know you love me most.” … The surgery was scheduled for a week later. Jane Evans called me every day, urging me to prepare. During this time, I visited the hospital once to get medicine for Mom, and inadvertently ran into Jane Evans, who was there with David for his surgery rehab. David took a grape from Jane’s hand, asking, “Aren’t you afraid he’ll run?” Jane Evans chuckled, “Don’t worry. His heart is mine; how could he run? It’s just one leg. Even if I asked him to give his life for you, he wouldn’t refuse.” David scoffed, “You wouldn’t actually agree to be his girlfriend, would you? That kind of lowlife, don’t you find him disgusting?” Jane Evans paused, as if making up her mind. “David, you’re the only one I love. I never want to be apart from you again. He and I are just putting on a show.” “Don’t worry, he’s so obedient, he’ll give you his patella willingly.” I lowered my eyes and chuckled. My heart no longer stirred. My phone suddenly received a message: “Boss Hayes, your flight is booked. Take a look.” … In a flash, the week was over. Early that morning, Jane Evans called me in a rush. “Arthur, why aren’t you here yet? The surgery’s about to start! If you’re late and delay the surgery, I won’t forgive you.” Even now, she was confident I would undergo this surgery. I looked at the plane about to take off and chuckled, “Sorry, Jane Evans. This life, you’ll probably still have to marry a cripple.” The line went suddenly silent. The next second, Jane Evans’s hysterical scream came through. “Arthur, did you… did you get reborn too…?” Before she could finish, I hung up. The plane lifted its nose, soaring into the clouds. She didn’t know that in this past week, I had used my memories from my previous life to pave my escape route. This thing called love, I’d tasted it before. It wasn’t good. I didn’t want it anymore. I covered Mom with a blanket beside me, my gaze fixed on the blue sky. This life, I would live for myself.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392633”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Driving to the airport, a Porsche attempted to cut me off. I didn’t yield. To my disbelief, after it sped past, it continued to aggressively tailgate and cut in front of my car. Pressed for time, I decided against engaging with such a road-raged driver and opted for restraint. Yet, my forbearance only emboldened her—in less than a hundred yards, she braked hard, blocking me, five times. My patience snapped. I decided to call the police. But as I was about to report her license plate, a surge of adrenaline hit me. I floored the accelerator, slamming into her—because in that split second, I recognized the plate. This Porsche was the very birthday gift my husband had asked me for last week! … “CRASH!” My Volkswagen Phaeton collided heavily with the Porsche’s rear. A young woman with dyed blonde hair, a cigarette dangling from her lips, climbed out. She swaggered to my car and kicked the door with insolent fury. “You pathetic pauper, did you even see the badge? Por—sche!” “Driving a beat-up Volkswagen and daring to hit a Porsche? Are you blind or just got a death wish?” Seeing that the driver was a young woman, my heart sank. Things were indeed as bad as I suspected. I rolled down my window, coldly scrutinizing her, trying to find a clue in her words and actions. “Five million! Not a cent less, or I’ll make you wish you’d never been born!” She held up five fingers, shouting at me through the window. I suppressed the urge to get out and slap her, choosing to wait and see—I needed to understand her relationship with my husband. A luxury car collision in a busy district quickly drew a crowd of curious onlookers. “Now this is going to be good. That Porsche looks like it’s worth millions. The Volkswagen driver is probably going to lose everything.” “That’s the price of stubbornness. A moment of patience keeps the peace. Why bother fighting over something like this?” Hearing the crowd’s chatter, the blonde-haired young woman became even more arrogant. She kicked my car door again, her eyes blazing with aggression. “Driving a clapped-out Volkswagen, and you don’t yield to a Porsche? Do you really think you’re hot stuff?” “Now you’re scared, hiding in your car like a coward? Too late!” “This is my new car, bought for me by my husband—a full five million! Pay up now, or I’ll have you thrown in jail!” My husband? There it was! Marcus Thorne, you goddamn scoundrel, I’d like to see how you get out of this one! After a moment’s thought, I slowly pushed open my car door, my gaze fixed on her arrogant, yet childish face. “If anyone’s paying, it’s you paying me—I was driving straight, you changed lanes and cut me off. It’s entirely your fault!” “And speaking of jail, those two kicks you just gave my car door? That’s intentional property damage. Those two kicks alone are enough to land you behind bars.” “I don’t know the law, so don’t talk to me about it! All I know is, if I’m driving a Porsche, you yield!” She yelled back, “Jail? The jail that can hold Skye Dalton hasn’t even been built yet!” Seeing her reckless defiance, I couldn’t help but sneer—Marcus’s taste truly was unique, to even want such an idiot. Among the onlookers, some saw Skye driving a luxury car and speaking with such authority, assuming she was some kind of spoiled princess. Hoping to curry favor, they chimed in: “That Volkswagen driver’s got a big mouth. Hit a car and then demands compensation? Someone gets angry and kicks a car door, and she talks about sending them to jail? Probably thinks the young lady’s an easy target.” “Don’t be afraid, sweetie. Add my number; Uncle can be your witness if needed!” “Exactly! I know a bit about the law. Property damage only becomes a felony if it exceeds five thousand. Her beat-up Volkswagen just has some paint chips; it’s hardly worth five thousand!” Already arrogant, Skye was further emboldened by their encouragement. She slapped the hood of my car hard, shouting, “Today, you’re not just paying for my car; you’re kneeling and apologizing to me, or you’re not leaving!” I smirked, pointing to the approaching traffic officer. “You ask the officer who should pay! As for kneeling, you might want to find yourself a comfortable spot for that first!” Enraged, Skye lunged at me, intending to strike, but I kicked her, sending her sprawling onto the ground. She scrambled up, still wanting to fight, but was stopped by the arriving traffic officer. “Stop! Or you’re all coming back to the station with me!” “Officer! This old hag hit my car and then hit me! Arrest her, quick!” Skye clutched her hip, wailing to the officer. The officer ignored her dramatics and asked us to provide dashcam footage. I pulled up the recording on my phone. After watching it, the officer looked coldly at Skye. “It’s clearly your fault, and you’re still demanding compensation?” “You’d better negotiate compensation with the other driver quickly, or we’ll take you in for reckless driving.” “Do you traffic officers even know how to judge? Look closely, I’m driving a Porsche! My husband is a very important man; you can’t afford to offend him…” “I don’t care what car you’re driving, or whose wife you are. Our job is to enforce the law fairly. I’m warning you, if you continue to refuse to comply with the ruling, we will take you to the station.” Skye initially complained indignantly, but seeing the officer’s stern expression, she dared not cause further trouble and chose to call for help. I glanced at the number; it was indeed my husband, Marcus Thorne. Though I couldn’t hear their conversation, from the way Skye’s face softened and her eyes twinkled, I knew they were flirting while discussing how to resolve the issue. After the call, Skye’s arrogant demeanor returned. She pointed at her car, announcing haughtily, “Pay up, then! Big deal!” “My Porsche is insured for five million, more than enough to cover your crappy Volkswagen. The extra cash is just my tip for a beggar like you. Take the money and get lost!” I smirked inwardly. Your paltry insurance policy won’t even cover my limited-edition Phaeton, let alone the fact that your reckless actions aren’t even covered by insurance. Today, I would expose this adulterous pair for what they truly were. Soon, the insurance company’s representative arrived. The adjuster looked like he knew cars. One glance at my car, and his face instantly paled. He only exhaled in relief after reading the accident report in Skye’s hand. “Ma’am, this accident was caused by your aggressive lane changes, which falls outside our insurance company’s coverage. Please resolve the compensation directly with the other party. Thank you!” Skye’s face instantly twisted in fury when she heard she had to pay herself. She pointed at the adjuster and unleashed a torrent of curses. “What kind of garbage insurance company are you?! You don’t pay out for accidents? Isn’t this just stealing money from us policyholders?” The adjuster, unwilling to argue further, waved his hand and walked away. “So, what’s it going to be? Pay up, or go to jail?” I looked at her coldly, stating calmly. Many righteous bystanders, having learned the truth, also began to scold her. “Just because you drive a Porsche, you’re hot stuff? You cut people off aggressively if they don’t yield? Do you think this road is your living room?” “You create your own trouble and then expect the insurance company to pay? Do you think the insurance company is a fool?” Her attempt to assert dominance had backfired, leaving her looking utterly mortified. The mocking whispers from the crowd only fueled her rage. She retrieved a baseball bat from her car and began to wildly smash my car, cursing all the while. “You want me to pay, do you? I’ll smash your pathetic car to pieces right here in front of you! What’s the worst that can happen? I’ll buy you a new one!” “You dare demand money from me? I’ll smash your face in!” Seeing her descend into madness, it was exactly what I wanted. I quietly stepped aside, waiting to watch her spectacle. After a furious outburst, she flung five hundred thousand dollars onto my car. “Beggar, this five hundred thousand is more than enough for your crappy car. The extra is my tip for a street rat. Take the money and vanish!” I smirked. “Your little bit of money won’t even buy one of my headlights, let alone being ‘more than enough’? You’d better find a way to get more cash, or you’ll be rotting in jail!” Hearing this, she looked disdainful. “You pauper, are you so desperate for money you’ve gone mad? See me with cash and think you can extort me?” “Who doesn’t know your beat-up Volkswagen is worth at most twenty-five thousand? I give you five hundred thousand and you’re still blabbering?” “I’m telling you, this is extortion, and you’ll go to jail for it. Don’t think I don’t know the law.” The onlookers also started to advise me, “Sister, take the money and run. Your twenty-five-thousand-dollar Volkswagen, they’re paying you five hundred thousand. Don’t be too greedy.” “Exactly. Don’t be too ambitious and end up losing more than you gain by getting accused of fraud.” Just then, the Volkswagen dealership appraiser arrived. “Who said this Volkswagen is only worth twenty-five thousand? This is a premium luxury car worth ten million, and even one headlight costs hundreds of thousands.” Skye’s face turned pale when she heard my car was worth ten million, but her expression remained defiant. The onlookers’ faces also changed dramatically when they heard my car was worth ten million. “Oh, so this lady is the real wealthy one! She’s truly low-key!” “Real rich people are always low-key, unlike some shallow young women who think they’re hot stuff just because they drive a Porsche.” “Exactly. Maybe her car is even rented. Now she’s smashed someone’s ten-million-dollar luxury car. She’s going to have to pay up!” At this point, the appraiser finished his assessment and reported to me, “Ms. Evelyn, your car is severely damaged. The repair cost would be close to the price of a new car. It’s no longer worth repairing.” I nodded after hearing this, then looked coldly at Skye. “Pay up. Ten million. Not a single cent less.” At my words, her defiant expression faltered, but she still stood her ground. “You say it’s worth ten million, and it’s ten million? You hired a fraudster to cooperate with you, just to extort money from me?” “This is fraud! I’m going to sue you!” To make her give up, I pulled out the purchase invoice and flung it at her. “Take a good look. Am I extorting you?” After seeing the invoice, her face showed a flicker of emotion, but she quickly reverted to her arrogant demeanor. She pulled out a black credit card, a prestige card, from her pocket and waved it in front of me. “Ten million? Big deal? I have fifty million in this card. I’ll just pay you.” Someone in the crowd gasped. “Wow, that’s a Centurion Black Card. Only those with billions in assets are eligible to hold it. This young lady is truly a high roller.” “So young and already worth billions, truly impressive!” Praised by everyone, she became even more smug, flaunting the black card with a flourish. But she didn’t know that the card in her hand was a supplementary card I had given to my husband. If I notified the bank to stop its use, it would instantly become a useless piece of plastic. After notifying the bank to deactivate the supplementary card, I looked at her coldly. “Don’t just flash a card and brag. Fifty million? I bet you can’t even withdraw ten thousand from that card!” Hearing this, she immediately bristled. “Give me your account number! I’ll transfer the money to you right now. If I successfully transfer the money, I’ll smash your face in!” I promptly gave her my account number, instructing her to transfer the funds. However, after several attempts, the transaction repeatedly failed, showing the card was disabled. The onlookers began to jeer. “Another fake rich lady, with a black card, who probably can’t even get ten thousand out of it.” “Why pretend to be something you’re not? If you can’t afford it, just say so. Don’t pull these ridiculous stunts.” Skye, sweating profusely in frustration, quickly hid behind her car to make a call. Soon, my husband, Marcus Thorne, called. “Evelyn Sterling, what’s wrong with my card? Why is it suspended? Quickly tell the bank to reactivate it, and raise the limit to a hundred million. I need it urgently.” I replied calmly, “Why do you suddenly need so much money? What are you trying to do?” “I have my reasons for needing it! Why are you asking so many questions? Just go do it!” I bit my lip tightly and hung up the phone. It was all my fault for indulging this scoundrel so much that he became this arrogant. He was a live-in husband who had climbed up through my connections, yet he dared to boss me around. For the past ten years, due to special circumstances, I had rarely appeared publicly, allowing him to manage Sterling Industries on my behalf. I never imagined he would secretly keep a mistress behind my back. He was truly asking for trouble! He thought that just because I let him be a figurehead, Sterling Industries belonged to him. After I hung up, Marcus sent several messages, but I ignored them all. Soon, Skye held up her phone, displaying a ten-million-dollar transfer record she had just received from someone else, and looked at me with an arrogant smirk. “I’m telling you, my husband is worth billions. How could he possibly be short on a mere ten million for you?!” With that, she transferred the ten million to me. “The money’s transferred! Now get lost!” She pointed at the successful transfer record, her head held high as she yelled at me. I scoffed. “You’ve only paid for one car. What about the other one?” At my words, everyone present was stunned. Skye’s face turned furious. “Are you crazy, or just addicted to scamming people? When did I hit two of your cars?” I pointed to the Porsche. “This car is also mine. It’s worth five million. Pay up, quickly.” At this declaration, everyone was shocked. “Is this person crazy from the crash?” “Quite possibly. Otherwise, how could she not even know her own car?” Skye’s face was contorted with rage. She pointed at me and cursed, “You crazy woman, are you never going to stop?!” I ignored her rabid frenzy and instead pulled out the Porsche’s registration document, flinging it in front of her. “See for yourself. Is this car mine or not?” Skye picked up the registration. After confirming my photo was on it, she froze in shock, then erupted in fury. “This car was clearly a birthday gift from my husband! How did it become yours? You must have pulled a trick to extort me!” “Do you think I’m easy to bully? My husband is Marcus Thorne, the head of Sterling Industries! He’s coming right now. Just wait and see how he deals with you!” Hearing that Skye’s husband was the renowned head of Sterling Industries, the crowd’s expressions changed. “Marcus Thorne, the head of Sterling Industries, is this young woman’s husband? That’s huge! In Gold Coast, who dares to offend Sterling Industries?” “Sister, take the money and run. I know you have some cash, but Sterling Industries is not someone ordinary people can afford to offend. Get out of here, fast.” Skye, seeing my silence, assumed I was intimidated by her mention of Sterling Industries, and sneered, “What, scared now? Too late!” “Once my husband gets here, I’ll have him completely ruin your company. Let’s see if you can still be so arrogant then!” I smiled faintly. “We’ll see about that.” Just then, a convoy of cars arrived. From a Land Rover stepped a man in a perfectly tailored suit, his hair meticulously combed. Several bodyguards trailed behind him.

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1 To save on rent, I took on two roommates. By the third month of our shared apartment, Amber had ballooned, as if someone had inflated her with an air pump. At first, I just chalked it up to stress eating and kindly urged her to see a doctor. Instead, she tore into me, a blistering torrent of insults. Two weeks later, she vanished without a trace. Valerie, however, dismissed it with a shrug: “Oh, she just moved out!” But then, Valerie started insisting on cooking for me. It was strange. When I refused, she’d follow me to work, shoving a thermos of food into my hands, her eyes holding an unsettling, almost feverish intensity. Later, chatting with a colleague, she remarked, “Olivia, you’ve put on a lot of weight lately. Are you, like, totally in love?” “Yeah,” another chimed in, “you’ve been bringing lunch from home constantly. I bet your boyfriend’s cooking for you.” Suddenly, a chill snaked down my spine. The pieces clicked. I watched Valerie in the kitchen, a ghost of a smile on my lips as she hummed, absorbed in her cooking. Who, I wondered, would be next to disappear? I slammed the thermos onto the dining table with a sharp CRACK. My voice trembled, a thin wire of anger. “Explain this, Valerie. Why have I gained fifteen pounds in a month from eating your food?” Valerie was stirring a rich broth in a clay pot, not even lifting her head. “You were dieting too strictly before,” she murmured, her tone maddeningly calm. “It’s perfectly normal for your weight to rebound once you start eating normally.” In a furious gesture, I unbuttoned my jeans, revealing my distended stomach. “Normal? This isn’t normal at all! My colleagues at the agency told me I’m huge today! I’m a model, Valerie. How am I supposed to work like this?” Finally, Valerie turned to scrutinize me. She reached out, her fingers pinching my cheek. “You look so much better now. Before, you were like a skeleton.” I rolled my eyes, swatting her hand away. “From today on, don’t prepare any more food for me.” Valerie’s composure shattered. She let out a sudden, ear-splitting shriek, slamming the ladle against the wall. “No! You have to eat! You have to eat my food!” She was completely unhinged, I thought, a wild spark in her eyes. What right did she have to dictate my life? Valerie’s chest heaved with agitated breaths. The doorbell chimed just then, breaking the tension. We stared at each other for a few tense seconds before I walked over to open the door. A man’s unfamiliar voice asked, “Does an Amber Peterson live here?” I quickly stepped forward, seeing two police officers standing outside. One of them held up his badge. “Her family reported her missing two weeks ago.” I frowned. “How can that be? She just moved out.” I pulled out my phone, scrolling through my messages. “See? On May 5th, she texted me saying she found a new place and wouldn’t be renewing her lease with us.” The officer meticulously examined the message. “Could we take a look at her room?” Valerie suddenly interjected, her voice sharp and grating. “She already moved out and returned the key to the landlord. You can’t open the door.” But I noticed her left hand clamped tight around her right wrist, where a familiar silver bracelet glinted, catching the light. I remembered seeing Amber wearing it in her selfies on social media. The police asked a few more questions, then left. After seeing them off, I stopped Valerie as she turned back to the kitchen. “That bracelet,” I said, my voice low. “It belongs to Amber, doesn’t it?” Valerie’s pupils constricted, black pools shrinking to pinpricks. “No! It’s mine! I just let her borrow it sometimes.” “You two were best friends. You wouldn’t know where she is?” Valerie fell silent for a moment. “We haven’t been for a long time. The police already asked me. Why are you still asking?” She then ignored me and returned to the kitchen. I stood there, and my gaze caught on a small sliver of blue fabric caught in the crack of the refrigerator door. Amber had a shirt, exactly that shade of blue. 2 At five in the morning, before dawn truly broke, I quietly slipped out of the apartment. Valerie’s door was tightly shut, her breathing even and deep from within. I tiptoed, not even daring to put on my shoes until I was out the front door, where I finally allowed myself to breathe. I hadn’t been at the office long before my phone began to vibrate wildly. “Olivia, where are you? I left breakfast on the table for you.” “Why aren’t you answering? You forgot your lunch box. Should I bring it to you at noon?” “Pick up the phone!” I powered it off, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird. She was completely unhinged, I thought. We’d just talked yesterday about her not making me food anymore. I figured if I just ignored her, she’d eventually give up. But at lunchtime, the front desk called. “Olivia, a Ms. Valerie Huang is here for you. She says she’s delivering your lunch.” My fingers dug into the edge of my desk. “I don’t know her,” I said, my voice tight. “Please tell her to leave.” But moments later, my phone lit up again. It was a photo from Valerie. She was standing outside my office building, holding a thermos. I sighed, skipping lunch to continue my work. Finally, quitting time arrived. I deliberately lingered, waiting to be the last one out, dreading that she might still be waiting by the entrance. But as soon as I stepped out of the office building, I froze. Valerie stood under a streetlamp, still holding that thermos, her eyes locked onto mine. A smile stretched across her face as she walked towards me. “Olivia, why are you hiding from me?” I took two steps back, my heart fluttering. “I’m really busy today. And I told you, I’m on a diet. You don’t need to make me breakfast or lunch.” She tilted her head, her voice eerily soft. “But you’ll get sick if you don’t eat.” I instinctively reached for my phone, trying to think of an excuse to escape, but she suddenly closed the distance, her eyes turning cold and dark. Her voice, squeezed from between clenched teeth, was barely a whisper. “Are you afraid of me? Why? Haven’t I been good to you?” My back hit the cold brick wall. There was nowhere to go. Just then, a colleague’s voice broke through the tension. “Olivia? You’re still here?” I practically lunged, grabbing her arm. “Didn’t we say we’d grab dinner together?” My colleague blinked, startled, but quickly sensed my distress and nodded. “Oh, right! Yeah, let’s go! I already made reservations.” Valerie stood motionless, the smile slowly draining from her face. Even as we walked far away, I could feel her gaze fixed on my back, like a cold blade. My colleague listened to my story, her chopsticks clattering to the table in terror. “You need to move out, immediately,” she urged. “She sounds terrifying.” I nodded, my fingers unconsciously tapping the table. “Tomorrow, while she’s out, I’ll go back and pack my things.” The next day, around noon, I received a text from my colleague. “She came to deliver your lunch! Hurry, go pack your bags!” I immediately hailed a cab and rushed back to the apartment. I burst into my room, frantically stuffing clothes into my suitcase, and quickly moved to a new place. I spent the entire day off from work holed up in my new apartment. I even ordered takeout for dinner. The doorbell rang. I assumed it was my delivery and opened the door without a thought. But the person holding my takeout wasn’t the delivery driver. Valerie stood there, a chilling smile playing on her lips, taking a step closer. “So, you’re hungry? Then why won’t you eat my food?” As I tried to slam the door shut, her foot jammed firmly against it. She forced her way inside, pushing me back step by step. “Valerie, calm down…” 3 Valerie’s fingers clamped onto my hair, pulling fiercely. Tears stung my eyes from the pain, but I forced myself to speak with a strained calmness. “I moved out because your cooking makes me gain weight. I’m a model; I have to maintain my figure.” My voice trembled, but I tried to keep it steady. “And you’re… your intensity is a little overwhelming. I can’t handle it.” Her grip loosened slightly, but her eyes remained shadowed with anger. “You’re lying,” she hissed. “You’re afraid of me.” I shoved her away, stumbling back to the wall, my hands shaking as I pulled out my phone. “If you don’t leave, I’m calling the police.” Her expression froze, her lips twitching, a strange mixture of a smile and a snarl. Just then, my phone rang. An unfamiliar landline number flashed on the screen. I hesitated for a second, then pressed answer. A low, grave voice came through the line. “Hello, is this Olivia Hayes? This is Detective Davis from the city’s Criminal Investigations Unit. We met a few days ago, regarding Amber Peterson’s disappearance. We’ve reviewed the surveillance footage and found that Amber never actually left your apartment building. We need your further cooperation in this investigation.” My blood ran cold. “How is that possible? She moved out!” I instinctively looked at Valerie, whose face had also gone stark white. Detective Davis stated gravely, “The footage shows her last seen entering your apartment. She was never seen leaving it. Are you available to come down to the station now?” My throat tightened. “Yes, I’ll be right there.” After hanging up, the room was terrifyingly silent. Valerie’s phone rang then too. She glanced down at it, her eyes flickering. “Is that the police?” I asked. She didn’t answer, just stared at me, a cold, mocking smirk finally twisting her lips. “Let’s go,” she said. “Together.” In the police station’s interrogation room, the air conditioning was cranked high, yet I was drenched in a cold sweat. Detective Davis’s gaze was sharp, like it could pierce through any lie. He asked me a few simple questions. “When did you last see Amber? Did she seem unusual? What was your relationship with her?” I answered truthfully. “We weren’t close. I was busy with work, so we rarely talked.” Detective Davis nodded, making a few notes. Then, he suddenly asked, “What’s your relationship like with Valerie?” My hand twitched. “Just regular roommates.” “Did she ever display any unusual behavior towards Amber?” I hesitated, then lowered my voice. “Officer, are you suspicious of her? Have you investigated her?” His pen paused, and he looked up at me for two seconds before stating calmly, “The case is still under investigation. We cannot disclose any details at this time.” Just then, another officer knocked and entered, whispering something to him. His expression instantly turned grim. He stood up. “Ladies, we need you both to accompany us back to the apartment.” When we returned, a police cordon had already been set up around the entrance. Several officers were sifting through Amber’s room, while Valerie and I were instructed to wait in the living room. I secretly glanced at Valerie. Her fingernails were digging deep into her palms, yet her face remained impassive. An officer emerged from Amber’s room, holding a notebook. “All her IDs, wallet, and phone are still here. Even her suitcase hasn’t been touched.” Detective Davis frowned. “This doesn’t look like she moved out voluntarily.” My heart pounded faster and faster. I couldn’t help but look at Valerie. She was staring back at me, a chilling, uncanny smile playing on her lips. Suddenly, Detective Davis’s phone rang. He answered it, and his face instantly paled. “Are you sure it’s Amber Peterson?” My breath hitched. After hanging up, Detective Davis took a deep breath, looking at us. “A female body has been found in a reservoir in the suburbs. Preliminary identification confirms it’s Amber Peterson.”

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The scene of my older brother, James, bleeding profusely after being hit by a stray bullet in the library, stung my eyes. Yet, I, who was passing by, chose to ignore it, even quickening my pace to flee the scene. This was because, in my previous life, I had frantically rushed him to the hospital. James had suffered a severe head injury and cranial bleeding, urgently needing surgery. At that critical moment, I called our mother, Dr. Elena Hayes, the city’s top neurosurgeon, pleading with her to come to the hospital immediately. But she, believing I was merely jealous of her taking my adopted sister, Chloe, to the beach, accused me of fabricating the story of James’s injury. No matter how much I begged, she refused to return. By the time my father and other family members arrived at the hospital, James had already passed away, having missed the crucial window for rescue. Our entire family blamed me for James’s death, convinced that I had deliberately misled Mom and delayed his treatment. Mom, rushing back from out of town, completely broke down, pushing me down a flight of stairs, leaving me to bleed out and die. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day James was shot in the library. 1 The few seconds I lingered at the library entrance, the shocking crimson exploded in my vision, terrifyingly similar to the bloodstain that spread after my head hit the ground when Mom pushed me down the stairs in my previous life. Countless images flashed through my mind: the clamor of voices in the hospital corridor, Mom’s icy glare, Dad’s furious shouts, and the desperate sensation of freefall as I plunged. I spun around, sprinting in the opposite direction with all my might, hailing a taxi and diving inside. Even in the back seat, my body trembled uncontrollably. Chloe’s parents had died in an earthquake, saving my brother. Orphaned, she was taken in by Mom and Dad. From that day on, she became the family’s little princess, while I became an extra, a burden. Even James, who once doted on me, only showed tenderness to Chloe. No matter what I did or said, in their eyes, it was wildly wrong. In my previous life, I desperately tried to explain my true intention of saving James, explaining that Mom had misunderstood everything. But they not only refused to believe me; they even thought James being shot was a sinister plot I had orchestrated – such an absurd accusation, yet they swallowed it whole. In this life, I would never meddle again. After all, James knew Chloe was bullying me at school, yet he always stood by and did nothing. When I pushed open the front door, I heard Dad’s cheerful self-congratulation. “These shrimps are really big, Chloe will definitely love them.” He hummed happily. “I’ll stew some black chicken soup for her when she gets back. She’s looked a bit thin lately, needs some extra nourishment.” It wasn’t until I reached the dining room entrance that Dad looked up and saw me. The smile vanished from his face, replaced by a stern expression. “Sophia Hayes, I told you to buy some crabs. What took you so long? What time is it?! Where were you wandering off to? What if the seafood isn’t fresh and she gets sick? Can’t you be more responsible?” I stood at the doorway, still clutching the bag of crabs, which felt impossibly heavy. I lowered my head and mumbled, “Traffic was a bit bad…” “Traffic? Are you the only person in this entire city who got stuck in traffic?” Dad’s voice grew increasingly impatient. “You’re so sensitive. Say two words to you and you get upset, like a clam. You’re nothing like Chloe, who’s so sensible and considerate.” Ever since Chloe came into this family, such comparisons had been constant. My every move, every expression, was always measured against hers, always concluding that I was inferior. Looking at the undisguised disappointment on my father’s face, I tightened my grip on the bag, my nails digging deep into my palms. Suddenly, the phone on the cutting board rang urgently. Dad picked it up, his voice easy and cheerful. “Hello? Oh, it’s Mr. Davis from the library. Hello, hello…” The next second, his voice abruptly changed pitch. “What? Shot? Library? James?!” He hung up, his face ashen. “Your brother got into trouble at the library. The teacher told us to go quickly.” I feigned ignorance, following him as he rushed out of the house. We sped towards City Central Hospital. 2 This hospital was horribly familiar to me—Mom was a celebrity doctor here, a leading authority in neurosurgery. The operating room doors were already surrounded by family: grandparents on both sides were present. Grandma Grace wiped tears from her eyes, pointing at me, her voice choked. “You have the nerve to show your face! James is in such a bad state, where were you?!” Grandpa Frank, though silent, looked at me with immense disappointment and condemnation. Grandpa Robert, supporting Grandma Rose, also cast a blaming glance. “Exactly! Why weren’t you with your brother at the library? How dangerous for him to be out alone!” Dad stood beside them, his eyes full of accusation. I felt like a target, pierced by countless gazes. In this life, I chose to stand by, to avoid involvement, yet I still became the scapegoat—it seemed no matter what I did, in their eyes, it was always wrong. I lowered my head, murmuring defensively, “I didn’t know James would get into trouble. I’ll go call Mom, she’s working overtime at the hospital anyway…” Hearing the words “call Mom,” Dad’s eyes instantly panicked. He grabbed me. “Your mom’s busy. Don’t disturb her.” Busy doing what? Probably with Chloe, pearl diving and making necklaces in Seaside City. In my previous life, it was at this point that I found out Mom had taken time off to vacation with Chloe. The entire family knew she wasn’t in town, but they’d hidden it from me. Grandma Rose looked at Dad disapprovingly. “No matter how busy she is, can it be more important than James’s surgery? Call Dr. Elena Hayes immediately! Tell her to come here at once!” “That’s right, that’s right,” Grandpa Frank chimed in. “Such a big thing. What could be more important than this? Call her now!” I pretended to frantically pull out my phone and dial. I called over a dozen times, but no one picked up. “What’s wrong with Elena?! James is like this, and she won’t even answer her phone!” Grandma Rose grew more frantic, her voice laced with dissatisfaction towards Mom. Dad quickly tried to smooth things over. “Mom, she might be in surgery. You know, once she’s in the operating room, she can’t pay attention to anything else.” However, just as he finished speaking, the call connected. “Didn’t I tell you? Don’t disturb me unless it’s important! Sophia Hayes, are you insane?! Don’t you know I’m busy here?!” I gripped my phone, my voice small and shaky. “Mom, James was shot. He’s at your hospital, outside the operating room. Please come quickly…” I hadn’t finished speaking when she cut me off with a scoff. “Ha, shot? Don’t curse James like that!” Her voice was sharp. “James is perfectly fine, studying for his exams at the library. How could he be shot?! If he doesn’t do well, it’s all because of your jinx!” She didn’t believe me. It was exactly the same as in my previous life. “Mom, it’s true! James really was shot! Right outside the operating room here! So much blood…” My voice cracked. “It’s true, Elena, please come!” My anxious grandmother, standing beside me, also shouted into the phone. Mom’s voice instantly turned cold, tinged with obvious displeasure. “Mom, Sophia Hayes is being childish and talking nonsense, and you’re joining in the commotion?” Her voice was dismissive. “Forget it, I don’t have time for this with you all. I’m busy with work. I’m hanging up.” The call was abruptly ended. “What could be more important than James’s life?! She’s completely insane!” Grandma Rose clutched her chest, her voice trembling. Dad tried to explain, “Mom, Elena really might have something extremely important…” Just then, a nurse rushed out of the operating room, her face anxious. “Are you Dr. Hayes’s family?” She cried urgently. “Quickly, call her back! The patient has severe cranial bleeding; the situation is critical! Only she can perform the surgery!” She wrung her hands. “But she’s off duty today and not at the hospital.” Dad instantly panicked, looking helplessly at Grandma Rose and Grandpa Frank. Grandpa Frank stomped his foot, yelling, “What are you standing there for?! Call your wife back at once!” His voice was filled with righteous indignation. “She even dared to lie about working!” This time, the call connected quickly. Noisy background sounds filtered through the phone. Chloe’s happy shouts were heard. “Mom, we only need 10 more pearls for a necklace! Keep diving!” Mom’s voice was filled with doting affection. “Okay, Mom will keep diving for you.” Dad frantically spoke into the phone. “Elena, please come back! James was shot! He has cranial bleeding and needs your surgery!” There were a few seconds of silence on the other end, then Mom’s displeased voice came through. “Are you messing around too? Is that ungrateful Sophia Hayes talking nonsense again? She can’t go a day without causing trouble!” She scoffed. “How many times have I told you, don’t believe a word she says!” I stood by, listening to their conversation, feeling a chilling coldness spread through me. It was Chloe who was habitually lying, always framing me, and I was always speechless. Dad’s voice was pleading. “Elena, I’m begging you, this time it’s real! James is really dying, please come back and see him!” Mom’s voice showed hesitation. “Robert, then I…” Just then, Chloe’s voice came through the phone again, tinged with a hint of a whine. “Oh, I just wanted a pearl necklace! Sis is bringing the whole family to mess things up.” Her voice turned dramatic. “Never mind, Mom, I don’t want it anymore. After all, I’m just an adopted daughter, not as important as my sister.” Mom’s attitude instantly hardened. “Alright, stop it. I’ll be back tonight. Stop trying to trick me using James!” She snapped. “He’s tough as nails, what could possibly happen to him!” Grandma Rose couldn’t take it anymore and roared into the phone. “Elena, do you have any conscience?! James is fighting for his life, and you’re still thinking about that adopted daughter!” She shrieked. “Are you saying all of us are lying to you?! Is James’s life less important than a string of pearls?!” Mom’s voice was now full of impatience. “Alright, Mom, Chloe is my darling, no less important than James. I’ll be back soon, don’t push me!” She added, viciously. “Sophia Hayes is selfish and a liar, don’t believe her!” She hung up again, leaving behind a group of anxiously waiting family members outside the operating room. This time, Grandma Rose and Grandpa Frank were clearly furious. They couldn’t believe Mom was so reckless. For an adopted daughter, she disregarded her own son’s life. And I stood by, watching their anxious and angry expressions, feeling surprisingly calm. In my previous life, I had done everything I could to save James’s life, only to be met with my family’s blame and Mom’s coldness. In this life, I chose to watch, wondering what they would do about Mom’s choice for Chloe. The nurse rushed out of the operating room again, her voice frantic. “Have you found Dr. Hayes?! The patient’s vital signs are dropping!” She cried. “If we don’t operate now, it will be too late!” Dad frantically tried to call Mom again, only to find he’d been blocked. Grandma Rose and Grandpa Frank also fumbled for their phones, shakily dialing. A moment later, both their faces turned ashen. “Can’t get through! She blocked me too!” Grandma Rose’s voice was filled with unbelievable pain. “Me too… that heartless woman! How could she do this?!” Grandpa Frank clutched his phone, tears and snot blurring his face. Despair instantly spread. Everyone knew that this time, James was truly gone. We could only stand helplessly outside the operating room, listening to the hurried sounds of resuscitation inside, watching James’s life slowly ebb away. The operating room door opened again. The doctor emerged, looking exhausted, and gently shook his head. “I’m sorry… we did our best.” Grandma Rose let out a desperate wail, collapsing onto James’s body, sobbing heartbrokenly. “My James! My grandson!” Grandpa Frank stumbled in, clutching James’s cold body, howling, “James! My grandson! How could this happen?!” Dad stood frozen, his body swaying, his face etched with extreme pain and regret. He looked at his lifeless son on the operating table and let out a raw, unrestrained roar. 3 Although Mom said she’d be back that night, she was still delayed by two days. James’s funeral had already taken place by the time she finally arrived, trailing Chloe behind her. Chloe’s neck was adorned with a shimmering pearl necklace, which gleamed ostentatiously in the dim light of the living room. Mom’s eyes immediately landed on me. Before I could even react, a loud slap landed on my face. A searing pain instantly spread, making my head ring. “You home-wrecker!” Mom screamed, her voice raw. “I only went to play with Chloe for a bit, and you started lying and stirring up trouble! How dare you joke about something as serious as James’s accident!” My face felt numb from the blow, my mind a blank slate. It took a while to find my voice again. “I didn’t…” Chloe caressed the necklace on her neck, looking at me with an innocent expression, her eyes glinting with hidden triumph. “Mom, don’t be angry, don’t be angry because of me. Sophia is your biological daughter, after all. Maybe she just missed you too much, that’s why…” Her words were supposedly conciliatory, yet each one poured gasoline on the fire. “I wish I never had a daughter like you!” Mom hissed through clenched teeth, as if I were a plague she couldn’t escape. Dad, who had been silent, stepped forward and shielded me. “If you don’t want this daughter, I do. You and Chloe can live your own lives.” Mom and I both froze. Dad usually doted on Chloe as much as Mom did, but now he was completely out of character. “Robert, what’s wrong with you?” Seeing this, Chloe quickly stepped forward, weakly tugging at Dad’s sleeve, her voice even more aggrieved. “Did Chloe make Dad angry? Chloe doesn’t want the pearl necklace anymore, Dad, please don’t be angry.” Her eyes flickered between me and Dad, a clear performance. She wanted to use her feigned hurt and sensibility to win back Dad’s favor. Dad shook off her hand, his face expressionless. “Don’t call me Dad.” He looked at her coldly. “We’re not related by blood.” Chloe’s face instantly went ashen, her body stiffened, and the tears in her eyes seemed to freeze. Grandma Rose finally couldn’t hold back. “I don’t know how you can call yourself a mother! Neglecting your own flesh and blood, but so attentive to an outsider!” I stood behind Dad, covering my burning cheek, watching Mom being reprimanded by the whole family. But this time, it wasn’t me who was being scolded. Mom was completely bewildered. She could only vent her anger on me. “Sophia Hayes! What did you tell them?! What lies have you been spreading again?!” She refused to believe James was truly dead, refused to believe her own actions had led to all this. She only believed I was up to my old tricks, slandering her behind her back, stirring up trouble. Just as Mom was about to lose her mind, Grandpa Frank delivered a sharp slap across Mom’s face. Before Mom could recover from the blow, Grandpa Frank slammed a piece of paper he had been clutching tightly onto Mom’s face. “You still have the nerve to blame others! Look! See for yourself!”

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1 My mother, Eleanor Stone, stood accused of sexual assault, a charge so heinous it had driven her accuser to a mental breakdown. In the packed courtroom, I watched in stunned horror as my own wife, Cici Bennett, sat on the plaintiff’s side. “My mother-in-law’s conduct was utterly reprehensible,” Cici declared, her voice ringing with conviction, her gaze piercing. “She repeatedly harassed the underprivileged student I sponsored, and then, while I was away, she committed this assault.” “As an attorney, even if my mother-in-law raised me, I am bound by justice. The law must deliver a fair verdict!” In a single night, Cici soared to notoriety, hailed as the city’s most uncompromising lawyer. Meanwhile, my mother became a public pariah, her once-thriving company—the very empire she had built—teetering on the brink of collapse. I confronted Cici, demanding the truth. Her response was chillingly detached: “Once Caleb inherits the company, I’ll naturally work to reduce her sentence. As long as she behaves herself in prison, I’ll continue to support her upon her release.” As I desperately searched for a defense attorney for my mother, hitting dead ends at every turn, a reputable legal firm unexpectedly contacted me. It was then I learned that our subsidiary branch was facing imminent bankruptcy due to mismanagement, but my mother had long ago secretly transferred the true parent company into my name. Leaving the courthouse, I cut Cici off, blocking her path. “Cici Bennett,” I seethed, my voice barely controlled. “You would frame my mother for an outsider? Do you understand? You’ve utterly destroyed her life!” The crowd gathered around, drawn by my outburst, their eyes brimming with scorn. The memory of her ruthless accusations in court ignited a fresh surge of fury within me. “That’s not what happened at all! You manipulated everything behind the scenes!” Cici’s lips curved into a triumphant, self-satisfied smile. “Alex Stone, I am an attorney upholding justice. Your mother committed a shameless act. Instead of disciplining her, you’re yelling at me?” My heart felt a vicious twist, a cold, crushing grip tightened around my chest. I stared into her eyes, my usually mild voice raw and hoarse. “From childhood, my mother treated you like her own daughter. When you were sick, she burned the midnight oil tending to you. When you wanted to become a lawyer, she took you across the country for specialized studies.” Cici raised a hand, cutting me off. “Your mother raised me for twenty years, wasn’t it just to force me to marry you? Your ‘generosity,’ Alex, it always had a price tag.” After her own family fell on hard times, Cici had been taken in by my mother. When Cici expressed her desire to become an attorney, my mother leveraged her connections, paving the way for her at a prestigious law firm. But now, it seemed, Cici viewed that path to success not as a gift, but as a burden, a sinister plot against her. A bitter wave washed over me. Cici, her face darkening, hurled a stack of documents at me. “Stop acting insane! I owe your family nothing! All you need to do is ensure your mother reflects properly in prison! Caleb, though from a poor background, is nothing like you, a spoiled, good-for-nothing rich kid. He’s ambitious, diligent, and resilient. The company will only truly thrive if he takes over. I’m doing this for your mother’s good!” I stared at her face, so familiar yet so alien. The initial shock faded, replaced by a hollow numbness. We had once been childhood sweethearts. When I was wronged, she would bravely stand before me, shielding me. When I fell ill, she would watch over me relentlessly, day and night. So when she proposed marriage, I had agreed without a moment’s hesitation. But now, she was a stranger. The innocent, kind Cici I had known was utterly gone. My hands clenched, my heart aching with an unbearable pain. My voice, though trembling, was firm. “My mother did nothing wrong. I will never let her admit to something she didn’t do. I will find the evidence.” Caleb, standing nearby, tugged at Cici’s sleeve, his voice a pathetic whimper. “Cici, just let it go. I’ll accept what Auntie did to me. Don’t fight with Alex because of me.” Seeing tears glistening in Caleb’s eyes, Cici’s expression softened with concern. She stroked his arm. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll make sure the culprit is brought to justice.” Then, her gaze turned cold, aimed squarely at me. “Alex Stone, don’t think about finding evidence to overturn the case. That will only make your mother’s time in prison worse.” I didn’t acknowledge them further. I turned and walked away. The immediate priority was to gather evidence, to pull my mother from this nightmare. I sought help from Mark, a friend and fellow attorney, but found his office door barred. I called him, my hands trembling, only to find my number blocked. A long while later, a text message from him arrived, a plea: “Your wife is a prominent lawyer, Alex, with powerful backing. Don’t make things difficult for us. Just apologize to her. Why make marital issues public?” My heart felt as if it were being repeatedly pierced by a sharp blade. I doubled over, gasping for breath, tears silently tracking paths down my face, landing on my phone screen. Just then, a call came through from my mother’s legal team. “Mr. Stone, the subsidiary branch is facing severe financial difficulties. It’s on the brink of bankruptcy. But Mrs. Stone had already transferred the main company into your name.” 2 The lawyer explained that my mother had secretly transferred the main company, Stone Industries, into my name. It was my pre-marital property, untouchable even by Cici, my wife. Stone Industries was my parents’ life’s work. If it fell into the wrong hands, I would never be able to face my mother again. The most urgent task now was to find evidence to clear her name. After leaving the law firm, I immediately went to visit my mother in prison. Her face, haggard and pale, her eyes vacant behind the cold bars, made my fists clench in helpless rage. “Alex, I didn’t do it… I truly didn’t do it!” My mother wept, tears streaming down her face. And I knew it. This was a naked frame-up—a meticulously orchestrated deception by my wife, designed to transfer the company to Caleb. I turned away, fighting back my own tears. “Mom, I believe you. I’ve found a lawyer. Don’t worry, you’ll be out in a few days.” My mother sat there, dazed, merely whispering. “I never imagined Cici would do this to me. From childhood, I treated her like my own daughter.” “That day, I drank the tea she offered without a second thought. I was even picking out a birthday gift for her.” … My mother choked back sobs, her eyes brimming with profound disappointment, a deep, weary defeat. I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth, my gaze unwavering as I looked at her. “Mom, my lawyer friend says there’s still a chance. Once you’re out, I’ll take you abroad for a change of scenery.” As visiting hours ended, I bade my mother farewell and walked out, my heart heavy with a profound sense of loss. Despite my reassurances to her, I knew the situation was dire. No one wanted to take on this case, to go up against Cici and her powerful connections. “Caleb, make sure all the documents are ready. The company will be transferred to you shortly.” Not far away, Cici was carefully instructing Caleb on the transfer process. By the time I fully processed their conversation, I was already standing before them, my gaze sharp and unwavering, piercing through her. “Cici Bennett, are you truly going to transfer the company to him?” She frowned, her voice icy. “Why are you still fixated on this small matter? The company belongs to Caleb.” I hadn’t held out much hope, but hearing her words, my heart was viciously impaled all over again. I took a deep breath, asking, my voice raw with indignation, “For him, you would frame the woman who raised you since childhood?” Cici shielded Caleb, her voice laced with impatience. “Caleb is an underprivileged student I sponsored. This is a graduation gift for him. Stop being as unreasonable as your mother!” I stared at this woman, so familiar yet so alien. For a moment, I thought I had misheard. But her cold, mocking gaze rested squarely on me. “Your mother was too stingy. Caleb’s family is poor. What’s wrong with giving him the company? If she hadn’t refused, I wouldn’t have treated her this way.” So, my mother’s years of selfless devotion were worth less than a few empty words from an underprivileged student she sponsored. And for her own selfish desires, she had allowed my mother to be burdened with a false accusation. Caleb, hiding behind Cici, whimpered, his eyes brimming with false vulnerability. “If Alex doesn’t want me to take over the company, then I don’t want it.” He pulled his hand away and turned to leave. “I was foolish to dream. Cici, I won’t bother you two again.” Cici grabbed his arm, her breathing quick and shallow. “Caleb, what are you saying? The company is compensation for my mother-in-law assaulting you. No one can stop this.” My gaze was locked onto her arm, wrapped intimately around Caleb’s. It was only then that I fully grasped the brutal truth: years of nurturing, of selfless care, meant nothing compared to a poor student’s fabricated story. My heart churned with bitterness, tears, unbidden, welled and spilled. 3 Done with their charade, I turned away and headed straight to the company headquarters. As per my lawyer’s instructions, I signed the stock transfer agreement. Sitting in the boardroom, my voice was firm, resolute. “Effective immediately, cease all funding to the subsidiary branch.” The lawyer, holding the agreement, paused, a cold understanding settling over him. “Understood, Mr. Stone. I’ll arrange it at once!” Unexpectedly, after the lawyer left, I encountered Cici and Caleb. Seeing me, Cici’s smile vanished instantly. She strode purposefully towards me, her voice dripping with contempt. “Alex Stone, why are you like a persistent shadow? Still trying to complain to Aether Global? If you ruin Caleb’s good fortune, I won’t let you get away with it.” I looked at her, my expression cold, saying nothing. Caleb’s gaze fell upon me. He feigned distress, lowering his head. “Cici, is Alex refusing to give me the company? Why else would he be here? What if he spreads rumors, making Director Davies unwilling to invest in the company…” His words choked off mid-sentence, causing Cici’s face to harden. She glared at me, her eyes blazing with fury. “Alex Stone, why must you constantly oppose me? The company can only belong to Caleb. Don’t challenge my bottom line any further, or your mother’s life in prison will become even more miserable!” Caleb, standing beside her, looked smug, a flicker of triumph in his eyes. He assumed I was intimidated, a sneer playing on his lips. “Cici said the company is mine. As her husband, you should naturally support her decision wholeheartedly.” The commotion in the boardroom attracted many onlookers.

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1 The day my mom was cremated, I collected her ashes with my own hands. I buried the urn, I burned the paper offerings. She died, and for three straight years, I barely slept. But last night, she came back. She stood at the door, wearing the same nightgown from the fire, tapping softly. Her voice, gentle, called out, “Ethan, Mom’s home.” I didn’t dare open the door, didn’t even dare breathe. But she knew I was inside. She pressed herself against the wood. “I made your favorite chicken and wild rice soup. It’s still warm.” Her voice carried the faint, acrid scent of char. My name is Ethan Vance. I’m 28, and I live alone on the seventh floor of an old apartment building in the suburban sprawl. Three years ago, a fire devoured our home, and it took my mom with it. I remember that night, her body a shield, burning around me. That smell… I’ll never forget it. The police said she was unrecognizable, a brutal death. I identified her by the jade bracelet on her wrist. My mom was a good person, lived a life without a single regretful act. She shouldn’t have come back—not like this. I desperately tried to convince myself it was a hallucination. But the ‘her’ outside the door suddenly used my childhood pet name: “My little stink bug, come out. Mom saved a chicken leg for you.” My legs gave out, and I sank to the floor. Only she ever called me that. I’d never told anyone, not even my ex-girlfriend. I called the police. Two officers arrived. I steeled myself, opened the door, and she was gone. On the balcony, the chicken soup was still steaming, wisps of warmth rising into the cool air. The officers did a quick sweep, then suggested I might be having a mental health crisis, offering to arrange a hospital visit. I handed them my security footage. The result? All recordings from 2 AM to 4 AM were blank. They patted my shoulder. “Tough break, kid. Our condolences.” After they left, I found a fragment of a bloodied jade bracelet on the doorstep. It was my mom’s. The next day, she came again. This time, she didn’t knock. She used a key. I watched, horrified, as the lock clicked open, the deadbolt retracting with a soft clack. She walked in. She carried a grocery bag, a container of hot food, as if nothing unusual had ever happened. She headed straight for the kitchen to cook. I cowered in my bedroom, peeking through the crack in the door. A patch of burnt flesh on the back of her head was still faintly smoking. She was chopping vegetables, using the rusty cleaver I’d thrown away before she died. I swore I’d tossed that knife into the river after the fire. Yet, she chopped with practiced ease, humming a lullaby. “Dark skies, gonna rain…” She never sang. Not once in the twenty-five years I’d known her alive. I couldn’t take it anymore. I burst into the kitchen, slamming the knife from her hand. “Who are you?!” She paused, then slowly turned, a gentle smile still playing on her lips. “What’s wrong, Ethan? Didn’t you say last night you wanted pot roast?” A chill snaked down my spine. I hadn’t said that. But… I had, years ago, when I was a child. Fifteen years before she died. My voice trembled. “You’re not her… You’re not human.” Her smile vanished. She bent down, picking up the cleaver, and in a tone that sounded almost like a complaint, she said, “Little Ethan, why are you still upset?” On the third day, a neighbor dropped by. It was Old Man Johnson from downstairs. He glanced at ‘my mom,’ a cheerful grin spreading across his face. “Well, if it isn’t Eleanor! You look wonderful, dear. Did you go on a long trip these past three years?” My mind went blank. “She… you’ve seen her?” “Of course! Just yesterday, bumped into her at the complex entrance!” “But… she’s dead?!” Old Man Johnson’s smile faltered. “What are you talking about?” I roared, “She burned to death! You were at the funeral!” His expression froze for two seconds, then he suddenly slapped his thigh. “Oh, my memory these days. I’ve been having so many dreams lately, maybe I mixed them up.” As he turned to leave, I saw a burn on the back of his ear. A fresh burn, blistered and weeping yellow fluid. I started to believe it wasn’t just my mom who had changed. It was the whole world. A new contact suddenly appeared in my phone: “Mom.” Her profile picture was taken six months before she died, the caption: “My sweetest son.” I’d never set up WeChat for her; she could barely use a phone when she was alive. My hands trembled as I tapped on the chat. The first message: “Ethan, Mom bought your favorite sugar figures today, just like when you were little.” I typed: “Who are you?” A reply, instant: “I’ve always been your mom. Don’t you want to come home?” I yanked out the internet cable and smashed my phone. But the next day, my phone was back to normal, and there was a new voice message on WeChat. I put on my headphones— It was my five-year-old self, crying and calling for Mom. That audio clip only existed in my head; it had never been recorded. I rushed to the cemetery. Her tombstone was still there, the name unchanged. But the urn had been dug up, placed on the ground, and opened. It was empty. I frantically dug at the earth, desperate to confirm if it had been stolen. My hand hit something solid. I pulled it out, and my heart nearly stopped. It was the paper airplane I’d placed at her grave when I was a child, inscribed with, “Mom, I miss you.” I had clearly burned it. Burned it to ashes. Yet here it was, clean and undamaged, buried in the soil. My scalp prickled with raw terror. My mom truly had “returned.” But how could she bring back burned paper? Unless she retrieved it from hell itself. That night, I dreamt she sat by my bed, whispering, “Ethan, our family should be together now.” In her hand, she held that rusty cleaver, lightly tracing its edge along my neck. The blade was cold. The dream was real. I woke up with a red mark on my neck. And she was standing outside my window, watching me through the glass. Smiling. 2 My mom never liked fish. I remembered that clearly from childhood; she wouldn’t touch it even if it was boneless, claiming a fish bone had once lodged in her throat when she was little, nearly killing her. But now, she cooked fish every day. Steamed, braised, stewed in sauce – different ways, always fish. If I didn’t eat, she’d put it in my bowl, watching me swallow each bite. Once, I asked her, “Don’t you hate fish?” She paused for two seconds, her expression momentarily stuck, her lips moving before a suddenly benevolent smile spread across her face. “Yes… Mom’s getting old, I misremembered.” But her eyes were fixed on my throat. I swallowed a mouthful of rice, my throat stinging. A fish bone. I watched her lips slowly curve upward. It was a smile of pure satisfaction. More and more “memories” began to tumble from her lips. Some were about my childhood, unnervingly accurate, even down to which shoe I wore out in third grade. Others, however, simply weren’t mine. She said I used to love folding paper boats and floating them down the river. But I never learned to swim; I was scared of water. She claimed I had a high fever when I was three that summer, and she rushed me to the Downtown Medical Center emergency room. I’d only ever stayed at the local hospital, never the Downtown Medical Center. I asked her, “Mom, was I afraid of shots when I was little?” She said, “You always cried when you got shots, especially that time you were hospitalized for pneumonia—” I cut her off sharply. “I’ve never had pneumonia in my life.” Her expression went blank for two seconds. The next moment, she was smiling again. “You don’t remember.” It wasn’t that I didn’t remember. It was that it simply wasn’t me. She was carrying the memories of more than one son. She was “piecing” me together. Or maybe, she wanted me to believe that she was the real one. In the mornings, she started using a bowl I’d never seen, calling it my “favorite patterned bowl” from childhood. She pulled out a family photo. “Your dad doted on you when you were little,” she said. My dad died when I was five. The ‘dad’ in that photo was a stranger. I picked up the photo. The child in it wasn’t me either. It was a pale-skinned boy with big eyes and dimples. I’d been chunky, with single eyelids and prominent front teeth. She looked at the picture. “This was taken on your fourth birthday, when we went to Westside Park.” She was becoming more serious, more natural, as if truly believing that photo was me, that past was me, that life was me. She looked at me, her voice soft as a lullaby, like a hypnotic whisper. “Ethan, are you… forgetting yourself?” I was losing my mind. I rummaged through all my old family photo albums. They were all gone. Three days after my mom died, when I packed up her things, I’d carefully put those photos in a box and hidden them in my closet. The box was still there, but all the photos had been swapped. Not a single one of me. They were all of that “dimpled boy.” I looked at my own ID photo, confirming I hadn’t had plastic surgery, wasn’t delusional. Then, suddenly, she patted my shoulder from behind. “Ethan, Mom got you a new ID. You didn’t like that photo.” I picked up the new ID she handed me—it bore the little boy’s face. The name was still Ethan Vance, the birthday the same. My hands started to shake. I opened my laptop, checked my social security records—gone. My work files—blank. My bank account balance read “0,” and the account holder was listed as “Ethan Vance (Minor).” My entire life had been overwritten. She hadn’t just come back; she was replacing me with someone else. That night, she said she wanted to take me to see someone. She led me to a house in the old city outskirts. The door opened, and an old woman emerged, grinning widely at my mom. “Oh, Eleanor! It’s really you, dear! I heard you were back, but I didn’t believe it!” I stared at the old woman, feeling a vague sense of familiarity. My mom asked me, “Who is this, Ethan?” I was stunned. “…I don’t know.” The old woman chuckled. “You rascal, I took you to the zoo when you were three, and you don’t remember me?” She turned and pulled out a photo. It was that “dimpled boy” again. The old woman’s tone suddenly shifted. “If you don’t recognize me, you’re not my grandson anymore.” My body stiffened. I swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “I do, I do.” Only then did she nod, satisfied. On the way home, my mom chuckled. “Remember that oak tree outside her house? You used to pee on its roots every day when you were little.” I looked down, saying nothing. I’d lived in a different complex when I was little. My home had a maple tree, not an oak. If I didn’t keep up the charade, they’d “cleanse” me. They weren’t trying to make me accept her return; they were trying to transform me into the ‘child’ she desired. Back home, I secretly took scissors and made a shallow cut on my wrist. The pain was excruciating, the blood real. She came in, saw it, but showed no anger or surprise. She merely sighed. “You’re still being stubborn.” She walked over, took my wrist, and wiped away the blood. She spoke, word by word: “Ethan, don’t mess with this body. You haven’t adjusted to it yet.” I completely panicked. I rushed into the bathroom, looked in the mirror, and saw my reflection suddenly wink its left eye—but I hadn’t winked. In the mirror, I made an expression I hadn’t made, a strange, unfamiliar smile. I stared at the mirror. The me in the mirror whispered, “Mommy’s waiting for you to wake up.” When I went to sleep, I locked my door. I woke up at 3 AM to sounds from the kitchen. She was cooking soup again. This time, it wasn’t chicken soup. It was pork brain soup. As she cooked, she murmured, “He was so smart as a child, needs a little boost.” I crept closer to the kitchen and saw her add something to the pot—a strand of hair, still clinging to its root, tainted with blood. I recognized it. It was mine. She turned around, slowly smiling at me. “Ethan, be a good boy. Drink one more bowl, and you’ll remember.” “Once you remember, you can stay forever.” 3 I started to wonder: Who was crazy? Me, or the entire world? At 7 AM, my mom called, announcing breakfast was ready. Three minutes ago, she was in the kitchen, I’d seen her with my own eyes, hacking at bones, red meat still clinging to them. But now, her number appeared on my phone, her voice gentle. “My little stink bug, time to get up.” That was exactly how she’d woken me every morning when I was small. She had completely reverted to ‘herself’—no, she was simulating a more perfect version of herself. I walked into the kitchen. She wore an apron, cooking. On the table, my favorite fried eggs, soy milk, plain congee, and pickled vegetables were perfectly arranged. There was even a glass of milk, with “Best Son Ever” printed on it—the exact mug I’d used as a child, which had been reduced to ashes in the fire. Now, it looked brand new. She slid a fried egg onto my plate. “Eat up. Aren’t your friends coming over today for a project? I remember you mentioning it.” I had never said that. But then the doorbell rang. I opened the door—it was Kevin Davis, my closest friend from college. The moment he saw ‘my mom,’ his eyes lit up. He smiled politely. “Mrs. Vance, long time no see. You look great.” I was stunned. “You’ve seen her?” “Of course!” He laughed. “I came over to your place the year you graduated, and Mrs. Vance even cooked me some congee.” “She died three years ago!!!” I roared. Kevin flinched, frowning at me. “Are you having too many dreams? Your mom just chatted with me a few days ago, even told me to convince you to find a girlfriend.” I stared, aghast. “You were chatting with her?” “Yeah, WeChat video. We even added each other. I’ve liked all her posts.” “My mom can’t even use WeChat…” Before I could finish, Kevin had already wandered into the living room, chatting with ‘my mom’ about recipes. I watched their conversation, feeling as if a glass wall separated us, and only I couldn’t understand the language. I opened WeChat. It was true. She was posting. The first one: “Ethan finally ate his dinner, such a good boy.” And the likes? They were from my friends, my colleagues, even my unit supervisor. Comments below: “Auntie is such a great cook!” “A son is a mother’s soft spot.” They all truly believed it—she was alive, had never died. I privately pulled Kevin into my room, closed the door, and lowered my voice to a whisper. “Please, I beg you, listen to me. Three years ago, the fire department pulled my mom from the rubble. I identified her body. I burned her ashes. I personally put them in the columbarium. I swear I’m not crazy, she is not my mom!” Kevin looked at me strangely, silent for a few seconds. Then he said, “Why are you still living in the past?” “I’m not living in the past! I’m living in the present—but she doesn’t belong in this present!” Kevin sighed, patting my shoulder. “Ethan, I know that fire really hurt you, but she’s really fine. You should take your medication.” I stared at him, testing. “Do you remember that day you came to help me identify the body?” “What?” “Didn’t you see my mom’s body after the fire?” “Stop joking. Your mom never died.” I took a step back, my voice dry as kindling. “Look into my eyes—are you thinking right now that I’m crazy?” Kevin didn’t answer. He only said, “If she’s not your mom, then who is she? She’s the mom we all recognize. If you keep talking nonsense, everyone will really think you’re unstable.” Before he left, he threw out one last line: “If you keep this up, don’t bother calling me again.” That night, I went to find my middle school deskmate, Sarah Chen, the only friend who knew my mom had truly died. I sent her photos, pictures of the empty urn. She was silent for a long time, then replied: “Are you trying to get attention, or are you really having a breakdown?” I opened her social media. She had also liked that post, “Ethan finally ate his dinner.” I hid on the balcony, watching ‘my mom’ in the living room clear the table, fold clothes, wipe the floor, and hang photos. Every movement was perfectly theatrical. She even pulled out my favorite childhood teddy bear from a cabinet and placed it on the sofa. I didn’t believe she could find it—I’d thrown that thing away before the fire. But she found it, and it even had the bite marks I’d made on it years ago. She turned and smiled at the balcony. That smile told me she knew I was watching. I went to check my household registration. The City Hall clerk flipped through the system and said my mom’s registration had been active for three years, with no record of any fire incident. I said, “Can I access the resident death records from the year of the fire?” She tapped a few keys, then frowned. “Which apartment complex did you say?” I gave her the address. She stared at me. “Are you mistaken? That building has never caught fire.” “What?!” “I checked the street records. The fire report for your complex that year was zero.” My body went cold, my legs turned to jelly. I forced myself to speak. “Then… can I access my medical records from those days?” “Were you sick?” I nodded. “That year… I had psychogenic aphonia, and I was admitted to the city hospital.” She checked, her expression growing stranger. “You were hospitalized, but it wasn’t for psychogenic aphonia.” “What was it?” She turned the screen toward me: “Cause of death: moderate burns, crushed airways, irreversible organ damage. Died despite resuscitation efforts.” Cause of death? I was looking at my own death certificate. I staggered back two steps. My phone chimed. My mom had sent a WeChat voice message: “Ethan, come home for dinner. Today, Mom made your favorite roast chicken, just like when you were little.” I hadn’t told her what I wanted to eat. And I had never eaten roast chicken as a child. But I remembered a detail—the night of the fire, I dreamt I was gnawing on a chicken leg. In the dream, my mom was peeling the skin, saying, “Son, is it good?” That was the only time in my life I’d dreamt of her being alive and on fire. Now, she was turning the dream into reality. I started to fear the dark. My room had four lamps, and they burned all night. My mom didn’t force me to turn them off; instead, she said, “You were afraid of ghosts when you were little. Mom won’t let you be afraid.” I hadn’t told her that either. Yet she always knew my little secrets, secrets I’d forgotten years ago. How did she know? Or was it that she wasn’t “knowing,” but rather digging out my memories one by one, reflecting them back on herself? If that were the case… then she was “emptying” me.

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1 My mother, Matron Aelys, the Azure Dragon, often forgot about me after birthing me, this half-dragon, half-human anomaly. It was Lord Kaelen, the Archmage of the Celestial Spire, who took me in. He was my sole anchor in a chaotic existence. Until the Wellspring of Fates, within Lady Seraphina’s Oracle’s Grove, revealed that I was his destined, inescapable match. From that moment, he grew distant, eventually abandoning me. A century later, I found him again, but he was a mere mortal healer, vehemently denying his past as an Archmage, refusing to acknowledge me. … My mother’s dragon life was refreshingly simple: sleep and eat. Beyond that, she’d seek out handsome males from various species for an evening of shared revelry. If an egg appeared, she’d lay it and leave its hatching to fate, letting it fend for itself. But this time, she unexpectedly birthed me, a peculiar creature. Scaleless, naked, squirming, and crying – I was truly an enigma that caught her off guard. “No fangs, no claws, not even a shell.” She poked me curiously with the tip of her claw, then tried tossing me high into the sky. When I plummeted straight down, she frantically caught me, murmuring, confused, “Nor can it fly.” Fortunately, I was, after all, her flesh and blood. Though perplexed, my mother understood she couldn’t leave me to perish. So, she carried me everywhere, sometimes clamped in her jaws, sometimes balanced atop her head, never letting me out of her sight. Even when she transformed into human form to savor delicacies in the mortal realm, she’d absentmindedly tuck me under her armpit. Until the old crone, her hands trembling, asked her, “Lady, what… what is that creature under your arm?” “A human babe. Mine,” my mother replied, chewing on a candied nectarine. The old crone nearly fainted upon hearing this, only then pointing out that I was on the verge of starvation, not peacefully asleep. “Babe needs feeding every hour,” the old crone patiently informed her. “Why not let the maids feed it once and for all? I, myself, can go sixty years without sustenance,” my mother pondered, utterly baffled. The old crone looked at her deeply, shaking her head with a sigh. “No wonder you know nothing of nurturing young. You are truly an outsider.” Before, my mother’s life revolved solely around sleep and food. With me, a new task was added: finding milk for me. In her eyes, all beings across the realms were equal, noble or lowly. So, her quest for milk knew no bounds: whenever she spotted a lactating female, regardless of species, she’d simply pick me up and command them to nurse me. Thankfully, my mother was Matron Aelys, the Azure Dragon, and few in all the realms dared to refuse her. Thus, my mother carried me across the realms for an entire year. I transformed from a toothless infant who could only suckle into a mischievous sprite capable of snatching food from a dragon’s maw. Though my front teeth hadn’t fully emerged, my four canines were already sharply pointed. More strangely, two bumps appeared on my forehead. Upon first sight, my mother frowned, poking and prodding them. “Is this ugly thing a dragon’s horn?” she muttered uncertainly. Later, the bumps receded, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “Just bumps from a knock, then.” Seeing that I could now gnaw on beast bones on my own, my mother concluded I could also forage for food. She reverted to her true dragon form, balanced me atop her head, and plunged straight into the deep ocean. “My child, your mother will treat you to seafood.” I could only make gurgling sounds, helplessly bobbing in the waves. My mother soared through the deep sea, chasing fish and feasting. But I, caught in the tumultuous currents, choked on mouthful after mouthful of saltwater. For dragons, born to the water, the word “drowning” simply didn’t exist. By the time she realized I wasn’t close behind her, I was already floating lifelessly on the surface, eyes rolled back. “My child has no appetite? Why is it sleeping here?” Seeing no response, my mother simply hoisted me back onto her head and shot straight into the clouds. My mother often recounted how, if it hadn’t been for Emissary Aerion, a celestial envoy, who stopped her, insisting I was on the verge of death… After a hearty meal, my mother and I squatted on the edge of the cloud sea, meticulously picking bits of leftover food from between our teeth. A wisp of white cloud suddenly zipped past us. Whoosh! The magical current flung me to the ground. As I struggled to my feet and steadied myself, I saw my mother standing with her hands on her hips, eyes blazing. “Which mage was so rude? Flying through the clouds, crashing into a pedestrian, and not even an apology?” My mother roared towards the clouds, but no one answered. A dragon’s roar sliced through the sky, and my mother instantly transformed into a massive azure dragon, soaring into the distance, leaving me, a small dragonling, standing alone and bewildered in the chilling wind. Watching my mother disappear, I sighed deeply. This wasn’t the first time I’d been forgotten on a desolate mountain. Hopefully, this time she’d remember sooner that she still had a daughter. Alas, the sky cycled through day and night, darkness and light, yet my mother never returned. Suddenly, a celestial figure, robes billowing, descended from the clouds. He rested his chin on his hand, observing me for a moment, then chuckled softly. “A dragon hatchling, still clinging to life.” What a handsome being! More elegant than any mountain herb. Could this be Emissary Aerion, whom Mother often spoke of? I lay weakly on the ground, wanting to rise but lacking the strength. “Rare. The Azure Dragon lineage is usually neglectful of its young. It’s truly remarkable you’ve survived with her to this age,” he observed. I moved my mouth, but no words came out. Only then did he notice my condition. He gently pinched my wrist. “Starving to the brink of death, indeed.” He flipped his hand, revealing a delicate jade vial in his palm. “Why is it that every time we meet, I find myself saving your life? Do we share some profound destiny?” Ignoring his words, I clutched his hand and gulped down several mouthfuls of the liquid from the jade vial. The liquid was cool and sweet, not only quenching my thirst but also filling my empty stomach. This was surely the finest celestial elixir. I drank without restraint, yet he showed not a hint of stinginess; instead, his smile grew even gentler. This being was even more generous than my mother. Once fortified, I immediately gesticulated wildly, describing how that rude mage had crashed into me and how my mother had chased after him. “Crashed into you then fled?” he asked softly. “Yes!” I nodded vigorously. “Truly despicable.” “Mmm!!!” I nodded in agreement, like a frenzied woodpecker. “Your mother hasn’t returned. What are your plans?” he asked. “Garlic? Don’t eat that!” I misunderstood him. “…I asked if you wish to wait here, or descend the mountain?” I pondered for a long time. Waiting might mean starving to death, but what if I left and Mother returned, unable to find me? A sudden idea sparked. I tugged on his robes, delighted. “Take me to find Mother!” Emissary Aerion sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Little Dragonling, how can I carry you?” “You can carry me in your mouth.” “I am not your mother.” “Then I’ll sit on your head.” “My head isn’t that large.” I scrutinized the celestial being’s human form, then it dawned on me. When Mother transformed into human form, she either carried me by hand or tucked me under her armpit. “Then you can carry me, or tuck me under your armpit.” The celestial being was speechless for a moment. Finally, Archmage Kaelen sighed, bending down. His hands gently slipped under my armpits, and he carefully lifted me. Being carried like this was far more comfortable than being dangled. I instinctively nestled against his shoulder, happily swinging my legs. Archmage Kaelen let out a soft chuckle. He patted my back lightly, sighing. “Is it your boundless luck, or my destiny? Little Dragonling, stop kicking your legs.” Only later did I learn that this man, who carried me across the celestial realms searching for my mother, was none other than Lord Kaelen, the Archmage of the Celestial Spire. The Archmage was known for his solitary asceticism; few in all the realms had ever seen his true face. Some said he had cultivated for thousands of years, others for ten millennia, and rumors even claimed he was as ancient as the cosmos itself, his age immeasurable. Few rumors about Archmage Kaelen circulated among the celestials, mostly concerning his profound magic and divine abilities. Even the rare gossip was merely “the Archmage is in seclusion for enlightenment,” “the Archmage is lecturing at the Jade Blossom Terrace,” or “the Archmage is attending a Grand Convocation.” Until today, the Archmage himself had just heard an unprecedented piece of news: “The Archmage’s companion is missing!” The Archmage was carrying a little dragonling, searching for its mother across all realms! I gnawed on my favorite mystical meat bone, my face slick with grease, completely oblivious to the murmurs at the next table. Archmage Kaelen propped his forehead with a hand, slowly swirling his jade tea cup, and sighed faintly. “Would you prefer not to look for your mother?” “No,” I shook my head. “How about I find you a master?” “Don’t want one,” I continued to shake my head. “Your mother never returned to that Celestial Peak.” I just kept gnawing on the mystical meat. “Little Dragonling, the Azure Dragon lineage isn’t known for raising young. Her leaving you is quite normal. Why insist?” My lip quivered. I tilted my head back and wailed, “Want mommy, want mommy, only want to find mommy…” “Alright, alright, we’ll keep looking.” I immediately stopped crying, pointing to the empty plate on the table. “More mystical meat!” “…” The day Archmage Kaelen took me from the Celestial Peak, he had already declined the invitation from the Jade Blossom Terrace. Later, failing to find any trace of my mother, he consecutively turned down several Grand Convocations. In the span of two years, he carried me from the highest Celestial Kingdoms to the darkest Underworld, consulting All-Seeing Orbs and the Ledger of Souls, yet he found no trace of my mother. “Kaelen, Kaelen, you are eternally wise, yet occasionally foolish,” Emissary Aerion chuckled. “What do you mean?” “With such a grand search, if she were in the celestial realms, even a wisp of her would have been found. Since there’s no news, she must be hidden in the mortal coil.” “Do you think I don’t understand that? But the mortal lands are vast. I can’t possibly go door-to-door with a little dragonling.” “Have your profound powers made you forget Lady Seraphina’s three Fated Wellsprings?” I rested my chin in my hands, watching Archmage Kaelen and Emissary Aerion play their game of celestial chess, completely engrossed, when Archmage Kaelen suddenly tossed down a piece. “Haha! Could it be you were so bothered by Lady Seraphina’s persistence that you simply erased her from your mind?” Emissary Aerion clapped his hands and laughed mischievously. “Now, how will you ask for her help?” “Thanks to your reminder, I had indeed forgotten about those three mystical wells.” “Archmage, what three wells are those?” I asked curiously. They sounded like they could help me find Mother. The Archmage sipped his tea without answering. Emissary Aerion picked me up and explained, “Those are Lady Seraphina’s three mystical wells: one reveals past and present lives, one reflects blood kinship, and the third… it shows you your fated one.” “What’s a fated one?” I asked. “That’s the Archon who will fly to meet and marry you when you grow up.” “Aerion, you’re becoming increasingly undignified. How old is she? Why speak of such things?” I knelt at the well’s edge, anxiously waiting for the Wellspring of Fates to reveal Mother’s whereabouts. “Archmage Kaelen, do we really have to wait here until dusk?” I pleaded, looking up at the tightly shut grand gates, clutching the hem of his long robes. “Easy, Lyra. Lady Seraphina is usually quite accommodating; she won’t keep us waiting long,” Archmage Kaelen said calmly, his gaze fixed on the closed gates. A soft chuckle suddenly drifted from the clouds. “So, you’re not her actual kin, Archmage Kaelen of the Celestial Spire.” As the voice faded, the tightly shut grand gates slowly swung open. “A millennium, and you haven’t brought your daughter to greet me. Truly heartbreaking,” Lady Seraphina, draped in flowing white silks, floated gracefully, landing before me. She first cast a sidelong glance at Archmage Kaelen, then knelt down, gently tapping my nose with her fingertip. “How old is this little one?” “Hello, Lady Seraphina! I’m five years old,” I answered politely. Lady Seraphina covered her mouth with a soft laugh. “By age, you should be calling me ‘Ancient One.’” “Hello, Ancient One!” I immediately corrected myself. No sooner had the words left my lips than Archmage Kaelen suddenly clapped a hand over my mouth. Simultaneously, a bolt of divine lightning struck, searing Lady Seraphina, leaving her charred and smoking. “Wh-why can’t I bear even a greeting from her?” Lady Seraphina coughed out wisps of black smoke, still frozen in the pose she’d been in when struck. “The laws of the cosmos,” Archmage Kaelen stated coolly. Lady Seraphina scoffed. “I crossed the Dragon’s Gate millennia ago. Besides a true dragon, who can humble me?” She trembled, pointing at me. “Could it be… this child has true dragon blood?” “Lady Seraphina, you misunderstand. I’m human. My mother is the dragon,” I hastily explained, waving my hands. Before I finished speaking, several more bolts of divine lightning descended, scattering Lady Seraphina like a dandelion puff. While she retreated to her chambers to recompose herself, Archmage Kaelen carried me to the three Wellsprings of Fates. “Finally, I can find Mother!” I exclaimed, but I noticed the Archmage hesitating. “Which well was it again?” he muttered, frowning in thought. I couldn’t wait. I jumped from his arms and dashed straight to the middle well. “Mother, where are you?” Peering in, I yelped and recoiled—the well reflected a glaring, ferocious tiger! “It seems our little Lyra was quite formidable in her past life,” Archmage Kaelen said, stroking my head, a faint smile on his lips. I turned to another well, cautiously peeking in—this well held neither tiger nor Mother, but a familiar figure. “Archmage, why are you in the well too?” I looked at his reflection, then at Archmage Kaelen beside me, and suddenly understood. “Could it be I was an Archmage in my past life too?” Archmage Kaelen remained silent. Just then, the distant jingle of ornaments announced Lady Seraphina’s hasty return. She placed her hands on my shoulders, looking into the well again. When Archmage Kaelen’s reflection reappeared, she slumped to the ground. “No wonder this well never showed my fated one. You were never meant for me.” A gentle breeze swept past, and another pair of hands pressed me to the well’s edge. As the figure in the well reappeared, I turned to Archmage Kaelen beside me. “Huh? Archmage, why do you look so pale?” It was strange.

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I was the golden child of a wealthy dynasty. In my past life, false accusations got me expelled from the Elite Arts Academy. My father died of shock, and our empire collapsed. Exiled to a rural labor camp, I suffered terribly. When I finally returned, I found Ethan Blackwood—my fiancé—beaten and forced into crippling debt. Guilt-ridden, I worked as a club dancer, even selling myself to a disgusting client to pay it off. The day I cleared the debt, I brought gifts—only to catch Ethan (who was supposedly paralyzed) in bed with my adoptive sister, Summer. Summer: “Thanks for reporting Ellie. Without you, I’d never have replaced her as lead dancer.” Ethan: “What if she finds out the debt was fake? That the client was just a paid actor?” Summer: “Who cares? She stole everything from you—your dance career, your inheritance. And she never suspected I faked my injury.” I vomited blood and died on the spot. But fate gave me a second chance. This time, I took that damning letter—and switched the name to Summer’s. 1 When my eyes next fluttered open, I was back to the day before the report was made. “Ellie, rehearsal’s over, why are you still lingering? Waiting for Ethan, are we?” A colleague from the Academy called out, a playful smirk on her face. I offered them a shy, manufactured smile. Everyone at the troupe knew Ethan and I were childhood sweethearts. But in my previous life, on this very day, he had personally placed an anonymous accusatory note on Director Hayes’s desk. From that moment on, my reputation was shattered, my life spiraled, and I met a humiliating end. Thank heavens for this second chance. This time, I’d turn the tables. Once the Academy emptied out and the lights dimmed, a furtive shadow slipped into the Director’s office – it was Ethan Blackwood, the Academy’s smooth-talking announcer. I hid in the murky corner, observing. A few minutes later, he left. I stepped inside the office. There, on the desk, lay a stark envelope. I tore it open. The contents were identical to the letter from my past life. It smeared my name, claiming promiscuity, involvement with multiple men, and even serving as a wealthy patron’s kept woman. I took the original letter, replacing it with an exact replica. The only difference? The name accused in the letter. I’d changed it from mine to Summer Woods. Even after it was done, a tremor of unreality ran through me. Last life, that letter had dragged me through hell. My name utterly destroyed, I’d rushed home, desperate for Father’s help, only to hear the housekeeper weeping that he’d spat blood and died from the shock. The family estate had plunged into bankruptcy, and I’d been forcibly sent away to that desolate rural work program. Overnight, I’d plummeted from the clouds into the mud. Before I left, I’d worried about Ethan and Summer suffering, so I’d given them the last scraps of our family fortune to manage, keeping nothing for myself. Life in the countryside was a brutal nightmare. Every grimy, back-breaking chore fell to me. I was ostracized, forced to sleep in a drafty barn, and battled endless illnesses through bitter winters and scorching summers. Once, I was sent to forage for firewood in the desolate hills after dark and narrowly escaped a pack of wild wolves. One agonizing memory after another flooded my mind, filling me with a raw, searing pain. Hatred, cold and deep, settled in my bones, and I burned with a furious self-pity. As I stepped out of the Academy gates, I saw Ethan hadn’t left yet. He spotted me, a flicker of panic in his eyes. “Ellie, why are you leaving so late? Wasn’t rehearsal over hours ago?” “Just took some time tidying up props today,” I said, a cold politeness in my voice. His hypocritical face made me want to say no more. Ethan visibly relaxed, seeing no suspicion in my reply. We walked down the quiet street in silence, each consumed by our own thoughts. Suddenly, a figure sprang out, intimately linking arms with Ethan. “Ethan, why did you leave first? Weren’t we going to celebrate with a fancy dinner tonight? After tomorrow, no one can stop us from being together…” That cloying voice could only belong to Summer Woods. We all worked at the Academy, yet he rarely sought me out. Turns out, after work every day, he was sneaking around with Summer. Ethan frantically pushed her away, turning to explain to me. “Ellie… she meant for all three of us to have dinner tonight. I just got paid…” Only then did Summer seem to notice me, a flash of annoyance in her eyes, quickly masked. “You two go on,” I cut in, too weary to watch their pretense. “I’m tired. Going home.” The real show, after all, wouldn’t start until tomorrow. Right now, all I wanted was to get home to Father—this time, he was still alive… “Sister, do you hate me that much? You won’t even share a meal with me.” Summer’s eyes welled up. Ethan looked at her with sickening tenderness, then rounded on me, his voice sharp with accusation. “Summer is your sister, after all. Why must you always hurt her feelings? You will come to this dinner.” Before I could protest, Ethan roughly tugged me, practically dragging me into the restaurant. 2 At the table, they chattered animatedly, completely ignoring me. Now, looking back, it had always been like this. Back then, I was foolish enough to believe their closeness was due to my presence, unaware of their secret affair brewing behind my back. Ethan, as if realizing he’d neglected me, feigned concern. “Ellie, eat more.” I looked at the mango shrimp salad, the French pudding… all of Summer’s favorites. Ethan had completely forgotten my seafood allergy, forgotten my utter dislike for anything overly sweet. My gaze drifted to the dance hall opposite, lost in thought. In my last life, after two years of aimless misery in the rural work program, I returned to the city to find Ethan confined to a wheelchair. Summer, in a torrent of tears, claimed Father’s enemies had stolen all our money, beaten Ethan, leaving him paralyzed and bound to a wheelchair for life. The guilt was overwhelming. I ran to the Onyx Club, taking a job as a dance hostess, desperate to earn enough to repay the supposed debts. I often found myself brawling over paltry tips, enduring vile insults: “Look at her, thrown out of the countryside for being a mistress, now she’s stealing clients? Addicted to being a home-wrecker, aren’t we?” Back then, I’d clutched the crumpled bills, swallowing my pride and the humiliation, all so I could buy them their favorite desserts after my shift. I poured my heart out for them, yet they couldn’t even remember what I was allergic to. The server, bringing our food, stumbled. A sizzling steak slid off the plate. My hand shot out instinctively to block it. The searing heat instantly blistered my arm, blood-red and bubbling. Summer, seated next to me, was also grazed, but her skin was only faintly pink. Ethan, in a flurry of concern, cupped her hand, gently blowing on it. Summer’s face flushed scarlet with apparent bashfulness. The server apologized profusely. A man in a sharp suit approached. “My deepest apologies, Miss. I’m the restaurant manager. Your meal is on the house today, and I’ll personally take you to a clinic for dressing.” I nodded, wincing in pain. Only then did Ethan seem to register the severity of my injury. Yet, I heard him say to the manager, “Could you take this lady first? Summer just has a scratch; Ellie’s injury can wait.” His shameless audacity made me laugh, a bitter, breathless sound. The manager, momentarily stunned, pretended not to hear, helped me up, and led me out of the restaurant, driving me to the clinic. Behind us, I heard Ethan’s enraged shouts and Summer’s feigned sobs. It was late when my arm was finally bandaged. The manager drove me home. He leaned against the car, his voice a lazy drawl. “I’m Jaxson Sterling. If you need any help in the future, you can find me at Sterling Manor on Willow Creek Lane, number 8.” I waved back. “I’m Eleanor Vance.” Jaxson Sterling smiled, a brief, knowing nod, and watched me go. When I returned, Ethan was seething. “Ellie, why are you back so late? Were you on a date with that man? How could you throw yourself at just anyone?” I was utterly speechless. “I burned my hand. If you won’t care, at least don’t slander me. And anyway, who I associate with is none of your business.” Summer interjected, “Sister, how can you speak to Ethan like that? If you ever get into trouble again, only we can help you…” A subtle flicker of malice crossed her eyes, hinting at something dark. “Oh, really? We’ll see about that,” I retorted, a cold smile on my lips. Seeing my defiance, Ethan shoved a gift box into my hands. “I picked this up while shopping. Consider it compensation for your burn.” It was the first time Ethan had ever given me a gift. He expected me to be overjoyed – in the past, even a wildflower he’d picked from the roadside could bring tears to my eyes. But this time, I didn’t spare it a glance. I took the gift and walked straight upstairs. 3 Pushing open Father’s bedroom door, I saw his kind face, peacefully asleep. I asked the housekeeper, “Has Father taken his medicine today?” “Yes, Miss. The Second Miss has been personally preparing his traditional remedies recently.” “Nonsense! Since when is it her place to handle his medicine?” I reprimanded the housekeeper sharply. “Forgive me, Miss Eleanor. You’ve always indulged the Second Miss, so I didn’t dare report it.” “From now on, Summer Woods is not to interfere with Father’s diet or daily care.” I carefully collected the remaining herbal dregs and instructed a footman to send them to Sterling Manor on Willow Creek Lane, number 8. In my previous life, Father had suffered a fatal hemorrhage before I even returned home. He had always loved and trusted me. He wouldn’t have succumbed to mere rumors. There had to be foul play. Summer Woods, if you dare harm my family, I will make you pay a hundredfold. The next morning, I came down for breakfast to find Summer and Ethan already seated at the dining table. Summer was wearing the most fashionable vintage gown, adorned with a matching diamond necklace and earrings. The glittering diamonds, accented with emeralds, made her look strikingly glamorous. The style felt eerily familiar. I remembered the gift Ethan had given me yesterday—it was of the same aesthetic. Compared to her set, my gift was painfully cheap—it was merely a trinket, a throw-in with Summer’s extravagant jewelry. Summer caught my gaze, her voice dripping with feigned fragility. “Am I making you angry, Sister, by wearing new clothes? “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to steal your thunder. It’s just… I’ve never worn such a beautiful dress. Ethan gave it to me, and I love it so much.” Before I could open my mouth, Ethan sneered, his voice laced with venom: “She’s your sister. Her looking beautiful reflects well on you. Are you afraid she’ll outshine you? Ellie, you’re too jealous.” I remembered Summer usually wore faded, worn-out dresses. Ethan had often scolded me for it, claiming I was stingy with my sister. But every time we went shopping, I bought her loads of clothes and accessories, which she never wore. I tried to explain countless times, but Ethan simply turned a deaf ear. I could only silently pay for the clothes he picked out for Summer, and then, he would begrudgingly favor me with a small smile. Back then, I was naive enough to believe he cared for my family. But it turned out Summer was deliberately playing the victim, creating the illusion that I mistreated her, all to gain Ethan’s sympathy. Hmph, such pathetic tactics. I slowly, deliberately, sliced the toast on my plate. “How about I set up a stage in the backyard, and you two can perform a full-blown melodrama for everyone?” “Summer Woods, honestly, when have I ever gone shopping without buying you clothes? I often buy more for you than for myself.” “And Ethan Blackwood, this is my house. You have no right to speak here. Pack your things. Get out.” In my previous life, these two scoundrels used my money to carry on their sordid affair in Father’s mansion, while I suffered isolated misery in the countryside. This time, your good days are over. Ethan exploded in a rage. “You want to kick me out? I’m going to marry you! This house will be partly mine!” Ethan was originally the son of Father’s business partner. After his family fell on hard times, they moved back to the countryside. Out of sentiment for our childhood connection, and fearing he’d struggle, I pleaded with Father to let him stay at our home. I never imagined that being too kind to some people only breeds insatiable greed. 4 “What’s all this commotion so early in the morning?” Father descended the grand spiral staircase. I rushed forward to steady him. He affectionately pinched my cheek. “My little darling, how’s rehearsal going? This time, Dad won’t miss your performance.” “I’ve practiced so well, Dad. You simply must come see it in a few days.” Summer watched our tender exchange, biting her lower lip in simmering resentment. Ethan discreetly squeezed her hand, whispering a reassurance. “After today, Ellie’s reputation will be ruined. Everything here will be yours.” Only then did her expression soften. She turned to me, a smug glint in her eyes. “Sister, shall we go? I’m really looking forward to today’s… rehearsal.” 【Alright, Summer Woods, if you’re so eager to plummet to hell, I’ll gladly oblige.】 In my past life, I met a client at the Onyx Club who offered to be my patron, his terms lavish enough to clear all my debts. That patron often tormented me in bed, driving me to the brink of despair. Afraid Ethan and Summer would worry, I only dared to cry and vent when no one was around. Later, Ethan caught me getting out of the patron’s car. Overwhelmed with shame, I wept, saying I was soiled, that I could never be worthy of him again. He pulled me into his arms. “Ellie is the purest girl. It’s all my fault, a useless cripple. Otherwise, why would I make you do such things? Once the debt is paid, we’ll get married. I’ll protect you for the rest of our lives.” With Ethan’s promise, I worked even harder. The day I finally paid off the debt, I joyfully quit my dance hostess job, bid farewell to the patron, and went shopping for gifts for them both. I ran home through the rain, soaked to the bone, but the gifts, clutched to my chest, remained perfectly dry. Pushing open the front door, through a narrow crack, I saw Ethan, who should have been in a wheelchair, holding Summer as if he were whole, entangled in passionate kisses on the bed. Then I heard the full, horrifying truth. The ones who had brought me to this ruin were the very people I held dearest. Rage surged through me, a violent current. My already sickly, weakened body could no longer bear it. I coughed up a torrent of blood. Before I lost consciousness, I heard Ethan tell Summer: “Ellie’s nothing but a harlot, sick from being used. I wouldn’t take a woman like that even if she were free. Everything I did was for you, Summer… you’re the only one in my heart…” In my previous life, I met such a miserable end. Now, everything would be reversed. Entering the rehearsal studio, everyone was whispering, pointing fingers at us. “I can’t believe it, she’s really that loose…” “Yeah, at such a young age, playing mistress…” “She looks so innocent, but secretly, she’s doing such unspeakable things.” Summer, hearing the whispers,’s eyes flickered with a knowing cunning. She positioned herself protectively in front of me, declaring loudly, “You can’t say such things about my sister! How could she do anything so vulgar?” In my previous life, she acted the same, pretending to be my devoted sister. And that’s precisely why I never suspected them. 5 Luna White, usually my closest friend, pulled me away from Summer, casting a disdainful look at her. “We weren’t talking about Ellie. Some people know exactly what they’re talking about.” Left alone, Summer saw everyone staring at her with hostile eyes, confusion clouding her face. 【Did Ethan not put the letter in? No… he said the plan was foolproof last night.】 Thinking this, her confidence returned. She lifted her chin, a defiant glint in her eyes. Just then, Director Hayes walked in, her face stern. “Summer Woods, my office. Now.” Ethan, who had been lingering outside the door, saw Summer enter the office and rushed over to confront me. “Ellie, if you caused trouble, you should bear it yourself. Why did you let Summer go in there to speak for you? “What about her reputation? Are you always so selfish?” Luna bristled, indignant. “Are you even listening to yourself? Everyone in the Academy knows now that Summer Woods was the one being kept. She’s the one ruining Ellie’s name!”

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