The autopsy report of my daughter revealed she had been drugged and subjected to long-term beatings and abuse before her death. I admit I wasn’t a good mother. It wasn’t until after Lily’s death that I finally acknowledged this fact. Night after night, I was haunted by nightmares. In my dreams, my daughter, covered in blood, would say to me, “Mom, avenge me.” I had pushed her towards the abyss in my desire for her to succeed. I spent all my savings on plastic surgery, forged a new identity, and finally managed to infiltrate this prestigious preschool. Don’t cry, Lily. Mom is here to avenge you. I removed the layers of bandages from my head. When I looked in the mirror again, I couldn’t help but marvel. What a beauty. Willow-leaf eyebrows, double eyelids – a strange combination, yet exuding charm. The plastic surgeon asked me, “Can I take a photo to use as a template?” I smiled and declined. It’s best if this face isn’t exposed to the public too much. After a few days of recovery, I went for an interview at an elite preschool called Pink White Purple. The vice principal who interviewed me was very satisfied with my qualifications. After a series of questions, I passed the interview. As I was about to leave, she asked why someone fluent in four languages and with overseas experience would want to be a preschool teacher. I smiled and said, “The flowers of our nation deserve the best protection.”
Three days later, I officially became a proud preschool teacher. The children were adorable, gathering around me and calling me Miss Cindy. My colleague, a young woman named Sarah, smiled and said, “You’re so good with them. The children all like you.” I chuckled and joked, “They like us both. After all, we’re both young and pretty.” As we were leaving work, Sarah said with a smile, “I’m off then. My husband’s here to pick me up.” I followed Sarah and just as I saw her husband getting out of the car to open the door for her, I quickly ran up to them and handed Sarah a notebook from my bag. “Sarah, you forgot your notebook.” She hurriedly took it and thanked me. Her husband’s eyes smiled at me from behind his gold-rimmed glasses. I quickly averted my gaze, but Sarah still caught our awkward interaction. Sarah looked at her husband somewhat playfully, and after a few seconds, she introduced me, “This is my new colleague, the beautiful Cindy. You’ll be seeing her often from now on.” Sarah’s husband extended his hand and introduced himself, “Dr. James, from City Hospital. Nice to meet you.” I pretended to be hesitant, glanced at Sarah, and then timidly reached out to barely touch Dr. James’ fingertips. Sarah pulled Dr. James away and hurriedly got into the car, her expression not looking too good. Ah, perhaps this is the pain of being too beautiful. Always being seen as a potential threat, always being assumed to be a homewrecker.
As expected, Dr. James asked me out. I’m not sure how he got my number, but when I received his call, I acted very flustered. I asked him, “Does Sarah know you’re asking me out?” He seemed to pause on the other end of the line, and after a while, he said, “How could she possibly know? I didn’t expect such a charming beauty like you to ask such an embarrassing question.” I giggled, my voice soft and sweet. He asked me, “Do you want to meet up?” Without hesitation, I said, “Of course, I want to meet you. Just the two of us.” He laughed heartily and set the time and place. Ten o’clock tomorrow night, at Love’s Tavern. I was actually a bit surprised that he didn’t just ask me to go straight to a hotel room. But I was happy about it too. After all, people all look the same without clothes on; it’s the flirting while dressed that shows the differences between individuals. I arrived on time, wearing a loose T-shirt and shorts. Under his shocked gaze, I sat down calmly. He raised his glass and said with pursed lips, “You’re quite special.” “I’ll take that as a compliment,” I mimicked his gesture and raised my glass. “Thank you for the drink and the praise.” Dr. James was indeed a master of flirtation. His pace was neither too fast nor too slow, occasionally telling amusing stories from work that made me laugh out loud, and then switching to topics that both men and women love to discuss. I raised my glass to him again, “I never thought a doctor could tell dirty jokes more vividly than the average man.” He downed his full glass of sake in one go, “Can’t help it, I’m human too and need to let off steam. At least I’m just talking, which is better than some beasts out there.” I became interested, “What do you mean by beasts? Do they visit prostitutes or use drugs?” He shook his head playfully, “Much worse than those vices.” I pretended to be angry and pouted, “You’re such a tease, leaving people hanging like that.” He laughed out loud and asked me, “Do you really want to know?” I nodded firmly, looking at him with feigned innocence. “Alright, I give in to you, but you can’t tell anyone else, okay?” He specifically warned me and made me sit next to him. Dr. James put his arm around me, brushed my hair away from my ear, and whispered, “There’s a type of person with violent tendencies who likes to abuse children.” I swallowed hard, suppressing the pain in my heart, and asked him, “Really? They’re so perverted.” Dr. James touched my cheek with his finger, saying indulgently, “Scaredy-cat. But don’t worry, I’m not that kind of person.” “I like mature beauties, especially those who pretend to be innocent.” His finger moved down to my lips. I stared at that finger for a few seconds, then lightly licked it with the tip of my tongue. I could feel his gaze, instantly becoming heated. If we weren’t in the main hall of the tavern, I suspect he might have taken me right then and there.
The next day at work, Sarah looked upset. When I asked her with concern, she just shook her head. I kindly said, “If you’re not feeling well, go rest in the office first. I can handle things here.” Sarah thought for a moment and finally nodded. She said to me, “Thank you, I appreciate it.” I smiled lightly and told her not to mention it. By lunchtime, Sarah still hadn’t come to the cafeteria. I brought some lunch back to the office and found Sarah with very swollen eyes. “Did you… cry?” I asked nervously. She hesitated for a long time, perhaps unable to bear it any longer, and finally sobbed as she confided in me. “My husband didn’t come home until midnight yesterday, even though he wasn’t on duty. He came back very late, reeking of alcohol, and started hitting and yelling at me as soon as he got home.” I quickly handed her some tissues. She took them and cried for a while longer before finally stopping. Sarah said, “Cindy, thank you for being my confidant.” I waved my hand, “Don’t mention it. Who doesn’t have some troubles they need to talk about?” She looked at me gratefully and accepted the lunch I had brought for her. In the blink of an eye, I had been working there for three months. During this time, I finally got to know all my colleagues at the preschool clearly, and I even got along well with the security guards and cleaners. Everyone praised me, saying Miss Cindy is beautiful, has high emotional intelligence, and will surely make a name for herself in the future. Some people even praised me to my face like this, but I just shook my head and said, “I have no ambition. I’d be content if I could just be a good preschool teacher for the rest of my life.” So those who praised me would say that Miss Cindy is a breath of fresh air among women, as pure as an orchid, truly a good woman. I smiled and didn’t refute them anymore. When people want to praise you, no matter what you say, they’ll think you’re right. Of course, if people want to belittle you, no matter what you do, you’ll be criticized and have your spine painfully jabbed. I think Sarah must have deeply felt this. She was naturally someone who wore her emotions on her face, direct and self-centered. And at just 27 years old, she had become one of the top senior preschool teachers in the city, naturally receiving a lot of attention at the school. So she became particularly arrogant, looking down on others. Especially next to my humble self, she appeared even more proud. During these three months since I started working, whenever she angered other teachers, I would apologize on her behalf; when she complained about the cafeteria food, I would praise the cooks’ skills after meals when I had nothing else to do. I thought that at first, people around must have thought I was her sycophant. But as time passed, they finally understood that I was everyone’s little ray of sunshine. Sarah’s reputation got worse and worse. In the anonymous evaluation that took place every six months, she received over forty negative votes. She was called in for a talk with the principal. Sarah, being too proud to accept such humiliation, got into an argument with the principal. The conflict wasn’t actually that serious, but as words escalated, the principal became angry and said she would fire Sarah. Sarah laughed coldly, slammed the table, and shouted loudly for us onlookers to hear. “No need to fire me, I’ll leave on my own!”
Sarah resigned, which really angered the principal. I’m not sure if it was to save face or if she genuinely meant it, but she threatened to blacklist Sarah. For some reason, Sarah didn’t seem afraid at all. I don’t know if she’s just gutsy or truly foolish. Pink White Purple Preschool is the top-ranked elite preschool in the city. A woman capable of running a preschool to the top naturally has impressive methods. If she really wanted to blacklist Sarah, Sarah would definitely not be able to continue working in the preschool circle. As Sarah was leaving the classroom with her belongings, I squeezed out a few genuine tears. Perhaps no one else in the school was as sincerely sorry to see her go. She smiled at me casually and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be back.” Seeing my confusion, she leaned in and whispered in my ear, “I know the principal’s secret.” Now it was my turn to look at her in shock. She patted my shoulder and smiled at me again. After seeing Sarah off, before I could finish tidying up the children’s blankets, my internal line rang. It was the principal calling me to her office.
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