A headline was trending at #1 on X (formerly Twitter): [Is Quentin Stone strictly platonic?] The top comment read: [Don’t make Quentin laugh, please.] Attached was a photo of him looking at his co-star, Natalie Quay. His gaze was predatory, intense, and anything but platonic. Even I got dragged into it. A reporter shoved a mic in my face: “As the lead in Quentin’s very first drama, do you think he’s a platonic kind of guy?” I froze for a second, then gave a vague, safe answer: “I guess… He’s a nice guy, very respectful to his colleagues.” Because of that, his fans tore me apart. Thousands of comments called me a “washed-up has-been” chasing clout, accusing me of being jealous of his current romance. Later, on a reality TV show, the question came up again. I gave my perfect, PR-approved answer: “As for him? I really wouldn’t know.” Quentin, sitting across the room, slowly lifted his heavy eyelids. “Whether I’m platonic or not… you don’t know?” 1. #IsQuentinStonePlatonic skyrocketed up the trending list. The comments were unanimous: [Don’t make our boy laugh.] [Stop spreading clean rumors about Quentin, okay?] [Quentin: What position is ‘Platonic’?] [He looks like the type who wouldn’t stop even if you begged.] [Spoiler: He definitely doesn’t stop.] My agent clicked off the trending page with a blank expression and slid the tablet toward me. I paused, then slowly scrolled down. [I’m done. The way Quentin looks at Natalie? He wants to devour her. And someone said he’s platonic???] [Some washed-up Z-lister is just jealous…] [Maya is so messy. Yeah, she was the lead in his first show when he was nineteen, and I used to ship them. But now? She looks like she swallowed a lemon.] [That was then. Look at Quentin’s status now. He’s an A-lister.] [Miss Maya is going to be on the same variety show as my ship ‘Quen-Nat’. I’m begging her not to ruin the vibe…] [Impossible. She’s definitely going to throw herself at him to hype up some old news.] “You have two paths right now,” my agent said, her face grim. “Embrace the villain edit and go for the ‘all press is good press’ route. Or, tuck your tail between your legs in front of Quentin and Natalie, and minimize your existence.” I gave a low hum of acknowledgment. My agent gritted her teeth. “Did you leave your brain at home when you answered that reporter?” I sighed. “What was I supposed to say? That Quentin is definitely not platonic?” She rolled her eyes. “You could have just said ‘no comment’ or ‘I don’t know’!” I froze. Right. It was precisely because I knew too well that the neutral answers didn’t even cross my mind. I instinctively chose to lie. “Forget it,” she waved her hand. “Blame the reporters for baiting you for clicks.” Since he was nineteen, Quentin’s career had been a straight shot to the stratosphere. He was Hollywood royalty now. But whenever people discussed his love life, I got dragged out of the grave. Because every other leading lady he worked with had a pleasant, professional relationship with him. Except me. I was the first. And when we ended, it was a hurricane. We tore each other apart with zero regard for old times. As time passed, even the hatred faded. We became strangers with no emotional ripples. Until recently. Quentin and Natalie’s new movie hit theaters. They weren’t playing a couple, but their chemistry was electric. They were enemies-to-lovers gold. It attracted a massive fanbase. To promote their upcoming TV drama, they signed up for a reality show called The Villa. Coincidentally, the show invited me too. 2. Inside the massive Beverly Hills rental. I sat quietly in the corner. Until Quentin and Natalie made their grand entrance together, the finale act. Everyone stood up to greet them. I stood up too, but I kept my mouth shut. Natalie walked straight up to me, extending a hand with a smile. “You must be Maya Wells, right? I’ve heard so much about you.” The atmosphere turned weird instantly. I smiled back. “Hi.” Quentin glanced in my direction—careless, indifferent—then sat down diagonally across from me. He didn’t say hi. I didn’t say hi. Natalie nodded, then turned and sat right next to Quentin. I remembered my agent’s warning. Do not look at Quentin. If I did, I’d just be a prop in their love story, and the audience would roast me for being jealous. Another actress, Lauren, who was close with Natalie, smiled and asked me: “By the way, Maya, do you have any representative works lately?” Representative works? I had just wrapped an indie project, but it hadn’t aired yet. Besides that… Seven years ago, the web series Quentin and I did exploded out of nowhere. The view counts were insane. Even after a seven-year gap where I wasn’t acting in the States, people still knew my name. “No,” I said calmly. Silence filled the room. I felt a heavy gaze land on me. I smiled and repeated, “I have a new show airing later this year, but before that? Nothing recently.” I knew better than to mention Quentin or that show. I’d just be accused of clout chasing again. Natalie instinctively glanced at Quentin. Seeing no reaction, she smiled brightly. “We’ll definitely support it when it airs.” “Thanks so much,” I said politely. Natalie didn’t say more, turning to whisper something to Quentin. The other guests all wore faces that said, OMG, I ship them so hard. The cameras were glued to them. I let out a breath and quietly observed them. Seven years. Quentin hadn’t changed much physically, just looked sharper, more mature. But he still had that air of nonchalance. When he wasn’t smiling, his eyes held a distinct aggression. Like right now. I could tell instantly—he was in a terrible mood. But whatever Natalie whispered made his expression soften. There was a reason Natalie was called “Quentin’s Perfect Co-star.” A beautiful, gentle sweetheart. She really did look good with him. I looked away. 3. Before filming the second episode, I checked the comments from the first week. [I’m done. Is Maya playing hard to get? Who doesn’t know she did that show with Quentin years ago?] [Trying to get his attention, obviously~] [Actually, nobody cares about her.] [LMAO, Maya tried to create a moment, but did you see Quentin’s glare? He looked disgusted and annoyed.] [Brother Quentin probably knew his sweet variety show date was going to be ruined the moment he saw her.] [Only our kind angel Natalie would bother talking to her.] …Miscalculation. How am I still getting roasted?! I was invited by the director! For the ratings! For the paycheck! I didn’t come here to break up their happy home! Seeing my face drop, Natalie walked over to me. Her tone was soft, but her words were blunt. “Since you quit the industry, why come back? Why not stay gone?” Only she and I could hear the volume. I paused, feeling the hostility. “I have no intention of stealing Quentin from you,” I said sincerely. “My relationship with him is terrible.” Her smile faded slightly, her almond eyes staring straight at me. “Steal?” She parted her lips gently. “You really think highly of yourself.” She turned and walked away. I watched her leave, only to lock eyes with Quentin, who wasn’t far off. He didn’t look away. His dark eyes swept over me. Cold. Detached. Only when Natalie spoke to him did he finally withdraw his gaze. I lowered my eyes. … Today’s theme: Cozy Villa Night – Truth or Dare. I had a bad feeling about this. The game started. Natalie lost several times. She was mostly asked about her first impressions of Quentin, funny stories from their set—easy, ship-building questions. I started to relax. Looks like I’m safe. Until Quentin lost. An actor laughed. “Truth or Dare?” “Dare,” Quentin said flatly. The room erupted. He was the first person to pick Dare. The actor didn’t ask a question but drew a card from the deck. [Stare into the eyes of a member of the opposite sex for 10 seconds.] Everyone cheered and laughed. I laughed along with them. I was laughing right up until I realized Quentin was looking at me. Me: “……?” His brow lifted slightly, his gaze landing on my face like a feather that weighed a ton. I froze. A slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Just as his lips parted to speak. I immediately stood up. “Sorry, stomach cramp. Bathroom run.” I walked out fast. I knew Quentin wouldn’t actually pick me. But for a second, my heart skipped a beat. I instinctively fled. I stayed away for ten minutes. By the time I returned, they’d played several rounds. Quentin and Natalie must have done the stare. I exhaled. Unexpectedly, I lost the very next round. I decisively picked Truth. If I picked Dare and got something weird, I was doomed. The next second. Lauren, Natalie’s bestie, asked: “Maya, I saw your interview earlier where you said Quentin was ‘Platonic.’ Why did you say that?” She asked it with such innocent curiosity. I stiffened. She was dragging up the thing I got roasted for, putting me on the spot to embarrass me again. I was silent for a moment, then shook my head. “I didn’t hear the question clearly that day. I answered too carelessly.” But she wasn’t letting me off the hook. “Well, you hear it clearly now. What do you think?” No one saved me. Even the directors nearby were waiting for my answer. They wanted high engagement ratings. I paused for a long time, then pasted on a smile. My answer was objective and distant. “As for him? I really wouldn’t know.” She scoffed, clearly unsatisfied. The other guests looked slightly disappointed at the lack of drama. Natalie kept a polite smile on her face, saying nothing. Just as I sighed in relief, thinking it was over. Quentin slowly lifted his eyelids. “Whether I am platonic or not… you don’t know?” I froze instantly. The room was so quiet you could hear everyone breathing. I moved my lips. Nothing came out. Quentin leaned back against the sofa, tilting his chin up to lock eyes with me. His voice was cold as ice. “Maya, you don’t know?” Did I know? Of course I knew. The boy who tasted forbidden fruit didn’t know how to stop at just a taste. After we turned eighteen, Quentin would keep me up all night, tireless. In the heat of the moment, he would hold me tight, his voice husky: “Maya, I love you… I love you so much.” I wasn’t good with words, so I’d just stretch my neck, dizzily pressing my lips to his. We were too young then. We had nothing. We couldn’t even see tomorrow clearly, yet we made countless promises never to leave each other. So when the vows broke, only cruelty and embarrassment remained. But right here, right now. My past with Quentin—that hate, that love—should I know it? I was here only as a foil for him and Natalie. I just needed to play the pale, villainous extra in their story, observing their happiness. That was all. I looked at Quentin quietly and didn’t speak. Natalie gently tugged his sleeve. “We’re filming. Even if you’re angry, don’t show it now.” Quentin didn’t move. His eyes were nailed to me. It seemed he wouldn’t stop until I gave an answer. The temperature in the villa plummeted. Even the director wiped sweat from his forehead, confused by the vibe. Finally, I spoke, articulating every word. “I. Don’t. Know.” The light in Quentin’s eyes went dark instantly. I continued, “Mr. Stone, our past conflicts are in the past. I hope to finish filming this variety show smoothly with you and everyone else. And I hope you won’t make things hard for me… because of the past.” I whispered the last few words. Quentin pulled his lips into a cold, thin smile. The shadow across his brow threatened to consume everything. “Make things hard for you?” He slowly closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he looked past me with utter indifference. “Are you even worthy of me making things hard for you?” He stood up and left. Everyone else stared, stunned. Finally, Natalie bit her lip and followed him. Filming was paused. 4. I was ready to be fired by the production team. Quentin hated my guts. If he asked for me to be cut, the showrunners would agree in a heartbeat, ratings be damned. But surprisingly, I stayed. The night before the reshoots for episode two, everyone was in the villa. Natalie knocked on my door. She closed it, crossed her arms, and leaned against the wall, eyeing me. “We’ve talked to the directors. That part will be cut. Don’t dream of using it to boost your fame.” “I didn’t think that,” I said. How could they think getting humiliated is a career boost? I’d be lucky not to be bullied off the internet. Natalie sneered. “I really want to know what you did to make him hate you this much.” Before I could speak, she continued. “Since you left back then, why reappear in front of him? Because you’re failing now and want to get something out of him. Right?” I frowned. “If you came here just to say this, you can leave.” “Stay away from him.” Natalie looked at me with disgust. “I finally got him in a good mood. Don’t make him unhappy the second he sees you.” I stayed silent. Did she think I was happy seeing him? Before leaving, she looked down at me and dropped one last line: “When Quentin was with me, he was never this unhappy.” She turned and left. I rubbed my forehead. Why so much drama? But hearing her words, I felt a pang of irony. Quentin once said he only felt happy when he was with me. That only around me could he smile. Times really have changed. I locked the door, lay on the bed, and stretched. Then I texted my agent: [Ann, I’m following orders~ A few hiccups, but it’s all Quentin acting crazy.] She replied quickly: [Okay. What did he do?] Me: [Hard to explain. He just hates the sight of me. Feels like he wants to skin me alive just for existing.] My agent paused for a few minutes before replying: [Really? I’ve been in this industry for years. I’ve never heard of Quentin hating anyone this much. You’re the first. And the only one.] …Should I thank him for the honor? I closed the chat and scrolled through my feed. I saw a post from an actor I knew: [Thanks to Quentin for treating the whole crew to dinner! Working with Quentin and Natalie was a delight. Great chemistry. Hope to work together again!] The photo showed a dozen people at a restaurant. Quentin and Natalie stood in the center, very close. Natalie was smiling brightly, eyes curved into crescents. She was right. Quentin looked much more relaxed beside her. I turned off my phone.

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He despised my modesty and adherence to tradition, calling me boring and lifeless. He spent every night at clubs, refusing to come home. Until an accident transported me along with him to modern-day America. My husband was ecstatic, eager to dump me and start his new life. He dragged me to his friends and introduced me with impatience: “This is my distant cousin from the boonies. She’s illiterate.” “If any of you bros know a single guy, introduce him to her. As long as he’s breathing, it’s fine.” In his circle of friends, the billionaire heir who usually looked down on everyone suddenly spoke up: “This cousin… I’ll look after her.” 1. I time-traveled. One moment, I was in the study, arguing with Sterling about him trying to bring yet another mistress into our estate. The next moment, I appeared in a house with a bizarre layout. Standing opposite me was Sterling, looking dumbfounded. “Holy sh*t!” “Holy sh*t!” “HOLY SH*T!!!” “I’m finally back! Hahahaha!” Sterling ran around the room like a lunatic, laughing and crying at the same time. He kept muttering words I couldn’t understand. “Coke, fried chicken, burgers, steak, hot pot, BBQ… I missed you all so much!” “I’m going skiing, drag racing, surfing! Hahaha!” I looked around the strange environment in terror, frozen in place. After a long time, Sterling finally remembered me. He frowned, looking at me like I was a migraine. “Crap, how did I bring you along?” “And you traveled in your body? You don’t even have a Social Security number. This is going to be a hassle.” He was always saying things I didn’t understand. Back in our time, and now here. My husband, Sterling, the heir to the Dukedom of Anping. Like other noble sons, he spent his days gambling and womanizing. But he was different from them. Because he always complained about being bored, claiming he came from a society a thousand years in the future. I always thought he was speaking madness. I never thought it was all true. 2. Sterling decided to take me out. He threw me a set of strangely loose long sleeves and pants and told me to take off all the jewelry in my hair. I didn’t dare refuse. I obediently changed into the clothes he specified. He led me into a strange metal carriage, and soon we arrived in the city center. The skyscrapers towering like mountains terrified me. My legs felt like lead. Everything was too eerie. The strange metal carriages were everywhere, emitting heart-stopping honking sounds. There were people wearing bizarre clothes with hair dyed in every color of the rainbow. I clutched the hem of Sterling’s shirt tightly, following him step by step. I threw all my aristocratic etiquette to the back of my mind. Like a drowning person clutching a straw, I wouldn’t let go of Sterling. He was the only person I knew in this strange and terrifying world. After a few steps, a giant brown bear suddenly appeared around the corner! “Ah!” I was already like a frightened bird; my soul nearly left my body. Sterling shook me off impatiently, his voice full of disgust: “Elara, are you sick? You’re going to make me deaf.” “It’s a mascot. A guy in a suit. Do you understand?” Passersby cast confused and mocking glances at us. I seemed to have embarrassed Sterling. I bit my lip, suppressed my fear, and followed him carefully. “Your hair is too long. I’ll take you to get a haircut first.” “Heh, Elara, let me give you a total makeover!” Sterling cheered up quickly and dragged me into a magnificent shop. 3. “Hi, do you have a preferred stylist?” I looked at Sterling for help, feeling extremely uneasy about the young man approaching us. This place was strange; why were there so many young men? Sterling pointed randomly at a guy and smirked with bad intentions. “Give her a buzz cut. And bleach it blonde.” I didn’t understand what a “buzz cut” or “bleach” meant. I only knew that I had to do whatever Sterling said. I couldn’t afford to upset him. Sterling’s temper had never been good. In the past, whenever he was unhappy, he would bring a new woman home. Dancers, singers, actresses. He not only took them in but gave them names similar to mine. My name is Elara. The women in the estate became Eli, Ella, Elle… Because of his unruly behavior, I became the laughingstock of the entire capital. Our last argument was because he wanted to marry a brothel madam. She was over thirty, a full twelve years older than Sterling. If he brought a madam into the house, our Ducal estate would truly become a joke. Sterling was disdainful: “I really can’t stand you ancient women.” “Reading moral codes all day, did you read yourself stupid?” “Elara, you’re like a dead fish in bed. What right do you have to stop me from having fun?” I clenched my fists, fingernails digging into my palms without feeling pain. “Husband, if you insist on this, let us divorce.” Sterling jumped up in anger. “Bah!” “Keep dreaming! You wish!” 4. Sterling didn’t dare divorce me. Our marriage was set by the Grand Duke. My grandfather and the old Duke were comrades in arms; my grandfather saved his life on the battlefield. The old Duke swore that whichever grandson won my heart and married me would be the heir. Sterling was the third son, incompetent and ignored by his father. He started doing everything he could to get close to me. He sent me flowers every day, sang strange but beautiful love songs. He created surprises, giving me many weird but fun gifts. He even remembered my monthly cycle, personally brewing hot herbal tea for me. I had never seen a man like him. I quickly fell for his bold and passionate display of love. But I didn’t expect Sterling’s passion to be as fleeting as fireworks. After we married, he found me boring and rigid, saying I was as tasteless as plain water. He started spending his nights at the club, refusing to come home. Even after being severely disciplined by the Duke, he just started bringing women into the house, one after another. Even the old Duke eventually gave up on him, leaving only one sentence before he died: If the day came that I divorced Sterling, his title and inheritance would be revoked. Crash! Sterling swept the ink and paper off the desk, his face pale with rage. “Elara, if you dare ruin my fun, don’t blame me for being ruthless!” Seeing me stand straight and unyielding, he smashed a jade scepter on the shelf in a fit of rage. “F*ck!” “I’m sick of you ancient relics!” “When the hell can I go back?!” The jade scepter exploded with a blinding white light. The next instant, Sterling and I appeared in his home in the modern world. 5. “Miss, your hair quality is amazing. A buzz cut would be a waste.” “It’s black and glossy, like a shampoo commercial. Honestly… I can’t bring myself to do it.” The stylist’s words pulled me back to reality. Someone was singing in the room, chanting words I couldn’t understand, like a spell. The music was too loud; I couldn’t hear the stylist clearly. I blinked blankly, then saw the man in the mirror grit his teeth and cut off a chunk of my long hair. I screamed and stood up, my eyes instantly red. “You… you… you!” “Why did you cut my hair?!” In my world, our body, hair, and skin are gifts from our parents, not to be damaged lightly. Only criminals sentenced to prison would have their heads shaved as humiliation. The stylist stepped back, holding the scissors awkwardly. “Didn’t… didn’t your boyfriend say you wanted a buzz cut?” “I haven’t even started shaving yet.” I touched my now shoulder-length hair with trembling hands. The fear and anxiety accumulated all day turned into tears. I cried until I couldn’t breathe. “You… give me back my hair.” “I… I…” Sterling rushed over with a dark face, roughly wiping away my tears with his hand. “Elara, are you crazy?!” “It’s just a haircut. Why are you crying? I can’t stand you!” “People here cut their hair all the time. What are you crying for?” Because I cried so miserably, the stylist didn’t dare continue. Finally, the female owner came out, calmed the angry Sterling, and gently comforted me. “Your hair is already cut like this. If we don’t style it, it will look bad.” “Don’t worry, I promise not to cut it shorter, okay?” 6. I walked out of the hair salon in a daze, with Sterling complaining beside me. “Elara, you are so boring.” “I told you, women here have short hair, dyed hair, even bald heads. It’s common.” “You’re in the modern world now. Can’t you adapt?” My eyes were red, and I bit my lip hard. “I can’t adapt.” It had only been a few hours since I traveled here. I had to adapt to cars, horns, skyscrapers. Scary mascots, men and women in strange clothes, and shops I had never seen before. “Fine, fine. Stop looking like a victim, like I bullied you.” “Come on, let’s buy some clothes. Tonight I’ll take you to meet some friends.” “I’ll let you taste the food here. See? I’m nice to you.” Sterling changed his face faster than flipping a page. He pushed my shoulders forward and pulled out a strange white rectangle from his pocket. Many people on the street had these small rectangles, looking down at them even while walking. “Yo, Mike. Let’s gather tonight.” “Sh*t, long time no see. Missed you guys.” “I saw you yesterday? Weird, feels like ages to me.” “I’m bringing someone. Nah, not a hot chick. Just average.” “Call the crew. My treat tonight. Let’s go to Ocean Prime. I’m craving seafood.” I watched Sterling talking to the metal slab in shock, forgetting my sadness. Was he talking to people? Through this small rectangle? Was this the “Thousand Mile Voice Transmission” spell from the legends? 7. Sterling took me to a clothing store and pushed me into a fitting room. The small cubicle had a bench and a giant mirror that showed every detail. “Elara, hurry up. Change.” I looked at the two pieces of cloth in my hand with shame and indignation, trembling all over. Sterling wanted me to wear this outside? “Are you done? It’s just a tank top and shorts. Why is it taking so long?” “You’re not so stupid that you don’t know how to put them on, are you?” Sterling banged on the door, getting more impatient. I opened the door clutching the cloth, my expression cold. “Asking me to wear this on the street? You might as well kill me.” Sterling stomped his foot in anger. “Damn it!” “Elara, you ancient fossil. You don’t understand fashion!” Because I refused to cooperate, Sterling didn’t give me a kind look for the rest of the trip, nor did he speak to me. This was his usual trick. The silent treatment. Ignoring me, making me doubt myself until I broke down. Only later did I learn this control tactic was called “cold violence.” Sterling put me in that strange carriage—the car—again. I didn’t know why, but this time the car moved exceptionally fast, taking sharp turns. I gripped the seat tightly, almost screaming several times. My stomach churned, my mind went blank. In the silent air, I could only hear my violent heartbeat. I wanted to go home. 8. When Sterling brought me to the private room in the restaurant, my face was still pale. As soon as the door opened, loud whistles erupted. “Whoa, a beauty!” “Sterling, new girlfriend?” I looked up carefully and saw six men and one woman in the room. The man sitting lazily in the center was particularly eye-catching. He had a sharp, clean haircut, a high brow bone, and deep shadows under his eyes. Hearing the noise, he glanced at us lightly. His gaze carried an intense pressure. This aura… it reminded me of the young but ruthless Prince Regent back home. Seeing him, Sterling’s eyes lit up. “Roman! What brings you here today?” I suddenly realized who this man was. Sterling had met the Prince Regent once and was disciplined by him. When he came home, he drank two pots of cold tea, his face pale for hours. “Holy sh*t, the Regent is scarier than Roman!” When I asked who Roman was, Sterling impatiently changed the subject. Roman raised an eyebrow slightly, his gaze pausing on me for a moment. “Aren’t you going to introduce her?” Once he spoke, the others chimed in like it was a royal decree. “This girl has a special vibe. Is she a ballerina?” “Sterling, where did you meet her?” “She’s different from your usual type. Very quiet.” Sterling put his arm around someone’s shoulder, replying with a grin. “Ballerina? You wish.” “This is my distant cousin from the deep country. Illiterate. Never even went to elementary school.” “I brought her to the city this time to find her an honest man to marry.” “If you guys have any single friends, introduce them.” “Average conditions are fine. She doesn’t deserve anyone too rich.”

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I bought four fried chicken drumsticks. My son ate two. Seeing me reach for one, his face turned red with anxiety. “Why didn’t you save any for Dad?” I was confused. “Isn’t there one left for him on the plate?” He looked like he was about to cry, reaching out to snatch the drumstick I had already taken a bite of. “Can’t you just save two for Dad?!” I froze. In his eyes, the chicken I bought with my own money, the chicken I cooked with my own hands… I wasn’t even qualified to eat it? 1. I couldn’t believe my ears. This was the son I raised with my own hands. Maybe he didn’t count correctly. I explained gently, “There were four in total. You ate two, I’m eating one, and there’s one left for Dad.” But he dodged the logic completely. “Then why didn’t you tell me?” I was bewildered. “Tell you what?” He raised his voice, shouting, “You should have told me before you ate it! Otherwise, how would I know you were going to eat one!” I still didn’t quite get it. “I’m just eating a drumstick. Do I need to file an application with you first?” His face flushed with anger. “What is wrong with you? Don’t change the subject! Answer my question! Why didn’t you save it for Dad?” I pointed to the plate. “I did. See? There’s one right there.” He acted as if he had suffered a great injustice, wiping away tears aggressively. “Why didn’t you save two for him?!” I was stunned. It wasn’t that he couldn’t count. Suppressing my anger, I asked him, “So you think Mom doesn’t deserve even a single drumstick?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he stiffened his neck, face red, and looked at his father with heartache. “Dad works so hard every day. Of course he should eat more chicken! You can just eat whatever else is there. Why do you have to fight him for it? Can’t you stop being so selfish…” Hearing this, my husband, Mark, grinned and pushed the plate with the remaining drumstick toward our son. My son immediately pouted, eyes redder than ever, looking even more aggrieved. I finally realized what was happening. Looking at the child I had nurtured bit by bit, I said in disbelief: “So Mom isn’t working hard? Mom has a job too. Mom does all the housework. Mom takes care of you. Does Mom not work hard? Does Mom not deserve a drumstick?” He said nothing, just kept wiping his tears. Seeing the situation escalate, Mark finally decided to open his mouth and play the peacemaker. “Alright, alright, Maya. Why are you bickering with a child? He’s just a kid, he doesn’t know anything. He’s just joking with you.” 2. I stared silently at the dishes on the table. Every day after work, I rushed to the grocery store like I was on fire, picking the freshest, most expensive ingredients, terrified that anything less would affect my son’s health. Then I’d rush home to cook, ensuring dinner was on the table before he got back from soccer practice, afraid he’d go hungry. Every morning, his clean clothes were folded neatly by his bedside. The house was always spotless—the result of me fighting off sleep every night to clean. The pantry was never empty of snacks, fruits, and essentials. He never once had to think about where these things came from. He was used to it, so he didn’t see it. He only saw his father leaving early and coming home late for work. I felt a lump in my throat and couldn’t help but ask him, “Mom works very hard too. Mom gets tired too.” He pushed the plate back toward his father again, sneering, “You only make that little bit of money every month. What’s so hard about that?” “Dad is the pillar of this family. He works the hardest.” I stared unblinkingly at Mark. He looked guilty under my gaze and laughed it off. “Maya, don’t lower yourself to a child’s level.” His job was leisurely, and truthfully, his salary was far lower than mine. But he insisted that as a father, his image should be tall and mighty. He needed to set a positive example to encourage our son to become a man who could hold up the sky. So, in front of the kid, he lied about his income and drastically understated mine. I thought it was for the boy’s good, so I never said anything. I never imagined that in my son’s eyes, Mark was the provider, and I was just a useless moocher who didn’t even deserve a chicken leg. Thinking of this, I couldn’t suppress the fire anymore. I flipped the dining table. Crash. “Then nobody eats!” Mark screamed, “Maya! Are you crazy?!” I sneered, “If I don’t go crazy now, I’m afraid I won’t even deserve a mouthful of rice in this house later.” My son screamed and hid behind Mark. “The Tiger Mom is going crazy again!” Tiger Mom? Is that what they call me in private? Mark turned his face away uncomfortably, pretending to be angry as he patted our son. “How can you say that about Mom?” My son didn’t care. He ran out, shoved me hard, then hid behind Mark again, making a face at me. My heart went cold. This was the child I carried for nine months and raised with my own hands? When he was born, he was weak and sickly. We were at the hospital every other day. Mark always used “overtime” as an excuse. It was usually me, alone in the middle of the night, holding him while he got an IV drip. I didn’t have enough breast milk, so I researched every formula and supplement to make him strong. Now he is indeed strong. Strong enough to push me onto the sofa. It didn’t hurt physically, but my heart felt like it had been stabbed. Clutching my chest, I went back to the bedroom. 3. Lying in bed, I couldn’t understand why it turned out like this. Mark stopped working “overtime” so often once our son started recognizing people. He’d come home early, playing with the boy with all sorts of toys until I finished cooking. Then he’d put on a stern face: “Alright, alright, go eat. Or Mom will get angry and blow up.” Then the two of them would go wash their hands, giggling. At the time, I felt happy. I thought he was a good family man willing to play with his kid. But thinking back carefully… Why was I always the villain when discipline was needed? “Eat fast, or Mom will be mad.” “Stop playing, Mom’s going to be unhappy in a minute.” “Still playing! Wait till your Mom sorts you out!” “No, Mom won’t let you eat that.” “Mom won’t let you go.” “Mom’s going to spank you.” … I never hit him. I never yelled at him. But all the negativity, all the unhappiness, was always followed by “Mom.” While Dad kept his hands clean, comfortably playing the “Good Guy.” Soon, Mark would come to “persuade” me. Every time there was friction between me and the kid, he played both sides. To the son: “Your Mom just has that temper. Women are like that. Be the bigger man, let it go.” To me: “Kids don’t mean what they say. We parents need to educate them properly. Look, he’s crying, he feels bad. Don’t hold a grudge.” I loved my son. Hearing Mark, I always felt it was my fault for not teaching him well, so I felt even more guilty. Then I would reflect on myself and actively seek reconciliation with my son. Over time, they seemed to accept this dynamic as the default. Right now, my son was sitting arrogantly in the living room, waiting for me to go apologize. And Mark, just like before, started chattering with those clichés. In the past, I was too busy sulking to pay attention to him. But this time, I stared at him quietly. I actually saw excitement in his eyes. And an inexplicable pleasure. He was happy. His son sided with him unconditionally, even belittling and shoving me for him. He felt proud. He felt joy. How did I not see this before? He talked until foam formed at the corners of his mouth. All of it was disapproval of me and various forms of moral kidnapping. I gradually realized his true intention. He seemed to be showing off. Showing off that his son was close to him and dismissive of me, his own mother. But hidden within this boasting was a trace of indescribable jealousy. I didn’t understand. We are a family. My salary is spent on him and the boy and this house. What is he jealous of? Besides, he was the one who couldn’t handle the stress and chose the easy, low-paying job. 4. My son waited a long time for me to come and coax him. When I didn’t, he started throwing a tantrum in the living room. He specifically targeted my things to smash. When I came out, he was taking a small knife and slashing at my handbag. Mark glanced at my face and quickly jumped in front of our son to be the hero. “Quick, apologize to Mom. If you apologize, Mom won’t blame you.” I picked up the slashed bag. I had pulled all-nighters for months on a project to get the bonus to reward myself with this bag. My son huffed angrily, “She makes so little money, yet she has the nerve to make you buy her such an expensive bag. Dad, you spoil her too much.” I laughed in anger. I threw the bag at Mark’s feet. “You bought this?” He avoided the question, pulling our son behind him. “Let’s not drag the child into our issues. He’s still small.” My son was instantly moved, hugging Mark’s arm tightly. “Dad, divorce her. We don’t want this Tiger Mom anymore.” Mark’s expression stiffened instantly. He coughed dryly, rubbing the boy’s head. “What nonsense. How could Mom and Dad divorce? Even just for you, we couldn’t possibly separate.” My son snorted at me. “You’re just lucky you found my Dad as a husband who’s willing to support you.” The father and son smiled at each other. Mark pushed the boy into his bedroom, then turned to look at the mess in the living room, sighing deeply at me. “Maya, you’re a mother now. Why are you still so immature? Look at this house. It’s a disaster.” I kept asking him, “Did you tell him you bought this bag?” He lowered his eyes. “It’s just a bag. Do you have to be so petty?” I laughed out of pure rage. “Well said. It’s just a bag. Then buy me a new one.” He scoffed. “Fine. It’s not like I haven’t bought you things before.” Right. He certainly had. An apron for International Women’s Day. Laundry detergent for Mother’s Day. A rice cooker for my birthday. He felt a bit embarrassed and opened his phone to place an order. “You just want a gift, right? Fine, I’ll buy it. Do you have to be so relentless?” But when he saw the price tag, he jumped. He pointed at me and cursed, “Maya! How can you be so wasteful?!” Hearing the commotion, my son ran out, crossing his arms and sneering, “See? I told you. She’s a lazy, gluttonous, wasteful woman.” I glared at him. He glared back fiercely. “I’m not wrong! You spend Dad’s money on bags and makeup for yourself, but you can’t even bear to save a drumstick for Dad! Selfish ghost! How do you have the shame? It’s embarrassing to have a mom like you.” 5. Without hesitation, I slapped him across the face. My son didn’t react immediately. He stared at me blankly. This was the first time I had ever hit him in his life. A few seconds later, his face turned red, and he pointed his finger at my nose in rage. “You dare hit me!” I slapped the hand pointing at me. He was furious. He tried to headbutt me. I dodged, and he slammed his head into the cabinet. He cried out in pain. “Dad! Mom is bullying me! Beat her up!” Mark hugged his son in distress, roaring at me, “What the hell is wrong with you today? Do you have to turn this house upside down?” “Is it just because of a chicken leg? My son and I won’t eat anymore! We’ll give it all to you! Happy now?!” I walked up to Mark. He grunted lightly, lifting his chin, seemingly waiting for me to soften and apologize. After all, in the past, I always compromised for the sake of this family and the child. I stopped in front of him. Reached out. Raised my hand. And slapped him hard across the face. “I was so busy hitting the kid, I forgot to hit you.” 6. Mark looked up in shock. “You actually hit me.” I picked up the slashed bag. I got promoted. I needed something presentable for client meetings, so I saved and scrimped for a long time before finally buying this bag. I used it so carefully. Now it was slashed to shreds by my son. He thought I didn’t deserve to use it, just like he thought I didn’t deserve a drumstick. Holding the bag, I looked into Mark’s eyes with disappointment. “Let’s get a divorce.” Kids are actually very good at reading people. Mark’s tacit approval of our son’s behavior, his “joking” ridicule and suppression of me… all of it signaled to our son that my status in the family was the lowest. That I could be treated however they wanted. So he felt I didn’t deserve anything. That my son became like this is directly linked to his father’s guidance. Mark panicked. Ignoring his swollen face, he stammered, “Honey, we were just joking with you. Don’t take it seriously. Why bring up divorce so easily? It’s bad for the child’s mental health.” In the past, as soon as the child was mentioned, I would compromise. But now, I looked at this son whose heart and eyes had no room for me, and sneered. “Isn’t this what our good son proposed? You always say we should respect the child’s ideas. Aren’t I just following his wishes now?” He choked, frowning at our son. “I didn’t mean that. Look at you, making a mountain out of a molehill. Can’t take a joke.” My son nuzzled into his chest, glaring at me coldly. “Dad, stop giving her chances. Divorce her. Let’s see what she eats and drinks after leaving this house. She’ll regret it when the time comes.” I couldn’t help but laugh. I looked at Mark and nodded. “Yes. Without me dragging you down, you two will surely live the high life. Steak and lobster every night.” My son pumped his fist, shouting, “We definitely will! And when that time comes, even if you, Tiger Mom, kneel and beg us, we won’t let you come back!” Mark tugged at his son awkwardly. “Stop talking.” The son didn’t know, but Mark knew perfectly well. I bought everything in the house. I was responsible for the monthly expenses. His salary was just his pocket money. 7. The next morning, the house had been cleaned by Mark. Breakfast was on the table. He wore an apron, pretending nothing had happened, smiling brightly. “Honey, breakfast is ready.” I paused. The last time he was this diligent was when I was pregnant. Back then, I thought I was lucky to find a considerate husband. But after the child was born, he never entered the kitchen or did housework again. While I ate breakfast, my son stared at me with resentment. “You’re a woman, letting a grown man do housework. Have you no shame?” “If outsiders knew, they’d call Dad ‘whipped’.” “And these are your chores. You can’t always trouble Dad to help you. Even if he spoils you, you shouldn’t be so comfortable with it. At least say thank you. No manners at all.” “Can you stop causing trouble in the future? Stop arguing. Let Dad worry less. It’s hard enough for him to work and support us.” I looked at this son I had raised for ten years, feeling waves of chills in my heart. Did he have zero empathy for the mother who raised him? Mark cleaned the house once, made one breakfast, and it pained him this much. What about me? I cooked for him for ten years. Three meals a day, clothing, shelter, transportation, everything. Why did he never feel pain for me? Why did he never say thank you to me? The son I once thought was lively and cute suddenly became so hideous. I lowered my head, not wanting to look at him again. After eating, I dragged my suitcase out of the room. Mark looked at me in shock. “What are you doing?” I said calmly, “I was serious about the divorce.” He rushed over to grab my suitcase. “No! I don’t agree! I won’t divorce you!” But my son pulled his arm, beaming. “Dad, let her go! You’re so handsome, gentle, and considerate, and you make money. Without her, you can find any woman you want.” “Let her go. Once she leaves, she’ll know how good she had it here. Let her wait to regret it.” I scoffed and looked at Mark. Well, the face is passable. As for gentle and considerate… heh. I grabbed my suitcase and walked out decisively. The moment the door closed, my son was still chattering to his dad about the benefits of divorcing me. Mark’s face was full of blank panic.

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One liked Chloe. The other liked Chloe too. I went to Chloe, crying, and asked if she could spare one for me. But Chloe just scoffed. “Why are you crying over two rotten pickles? I’ve arranged a new playmate for you.” I finally understood why they liked Chloe. Because Chloe was generous. She gave me her twin brother. Chloe’s brother was just like her—impressive and good at everything. So, I stopped crying asking Carter why he bailed on me. I stopped pestering Mason to talk to me. But they panicked. When they couldn’t block me, they turned around to trouble Chloe. “You manipulative witch, take your robot brother and get the hell away from us!” 1. When I got to Carter’s house, he was frowning at his phone, typing a message. A wall of green text bubbles. The other side hadn’t replied once. “Carter, are you still going to be my model?” I felt a little wronged. “Mason bailed on me again.” Carter instinctively flipped his phone face down, then stood up abruptly. “Mason isn’t home?” I was startled by his reaction. “Yeah, Mason said he had something to do…” Before I could finish, Carter stood up, gritting his teeth. “Damn it. I was wondering why Chloe wasn’t replying to me today. Someone cut in line.” I rubbed my nose and asked again. “So Mason went to find Chloe again? Then can you…” Before I could finish, Carter had already grabbed his jacket and was heading out. “Be a good girl, Lily. Play by yourself. I have to go out.” Watching Carter’s back, I felt a little sad. I knew. He was going to find Chloe too. Chloe was the new transfer student who arrived last week. She was unreasonably pretty. The day she and her brother stepped into class, the room erupted in cheers. From the boys, and from the girls. During breaks, the boys surrounded Chloe’s desk, chattering endlessly. The girls surrounded her brother. Carter and Mason were among those boys. Walking home together that day, Carter asked Mason, “What do you think of the new girl?” “She’s okay. Not as cute as our Lily.” Carter nodded and reached out to pat my head. “True. She’s beautiful, but too aggressive.” The two looked at each other, then suddenly fell silent. From that day on, they became weird. They were always disappearing. I saw Mason buying breakfast for Chloe. And Carter doing Chloe’s cleaning duty so she could leave early. Mason had sneered, muttering under his breath, “What a fake. Acting like he doesn’t like her.” Oh. So they were lying. They weren’t any different from the other boys. They both liked Chloe. With no one to model for me, I went home and slept all afternoon. When I woke up, my mom asked me to drop something off for Carter’s mom. I hugged the package and walked to Carter’s house, only to hear arguing. Carter was shouting. “Are you a dog? She ignores everyone, yet you keep pestering Chloe. You even bailed on Lily for this. Do you know how sad she was today?” Mason sounded exasperated. “Then why didn’t you stay with her? You ran over here to cause trouble too. You’re half responsible for Lily being like this.” Carter exploded. “Is that something a human says? You didn’t object back then either!” Listening to their argument, my tears fell pitter-patter to the ground. I knew. They were talking about my brain. Years ago, Carter and Mason didn’t want to play with me. They said I was a crybaby, delicate, and they didn’t play with girls. Until we were seven. They found a high wall behind the school. There was a bird’s nest on top. It was too high. Carter suggested that since I was the lightest, I should ride on Mason’s shoulders to climb up. Then, I’d pull them up. 2. I climbed up and reached down. Before I could touch them, my foot slipped, and I fell. It was high. It hurt. There was a lot of blood. Mason carried me on his back, crying as he ran. Carter, face pale as a sheet, ran alongside, holding the wound on my head. When I woke up, my reactions were a beat slower than everyone else’s. Mason and Carter seemed to grow up overnight. Like two knights, they protected me twenty-four-seven, treating me like fragile glass. I thought the three of us would be like this forever. I stood at the door, eyes red. The door suddenly opened. Mason froze. His face, flushed from arguing, turned white the instant he saw me. “Lily, when did you get here?” Carter followed behind, clearly panicked too. “Don’t cry. Mason and I were just messing around. Did you want us to model? It’s too late to draw now, how about tomorrow?” Mason pursed his lips, looking at me, and carefully reached out to wipe my tears. “Okay.” I nodded, and the two of them instantly relaxed. The next day at school, I secretly watched Chloe. She really was pretty. With her high ponytail, she walked like a proud little peacock. Almost everywhere she went, everyone’s eyes followed. I felt even sadder. Mason disappeared again this morning. Carter looked grumpy, but he still carried my backpack for me. On the way, his expression was dark, so I didn’t dare speak. Since Chloe appeared, the three of us couldn’t walk home laughing and playing like before. I should hate Chloe. But looking at her, I couldn’t hate her at all. So I wanted to cry even more. The girl was talking to someone next to her, but when she turned and saw my red eyes, she froze. I quickly looked down, but a tissue appeared in front of me. Chloe frowned at me. “Why are you crying? Pretty eyes like yours get ugly when they swell up.” I wanted to cry even harder. Why was she so nice?! How could I hate her now? I took the tissue and couldn’t help looking up at her. Another hand extended from the side. Unlike Chloe’s slender one, this one was larger, broader. I wiped my red eyes and looked over. Chloe’s family had great genes. The girl was beautiful; the boy was beautiful too, but with a cold, sharp edge. Lethally handsome. Sitting in his palm was a candy. Chloe had just given it to him. He wasn’t interested, so he handed it to me. I took it. Trying to be polite, I spoke up. “Thank you, Chloe.” Then I looked at the boy. My brain stalled, and I couldn’t remember his name. Chloe’s brother… so, brother. “Thank you, brother.” The boy’s figure stiffened instantly. His expression looked unnatural, and when he turned his head away, the tips of his ears turned red. Chloe looked at me, then at her brother, and suddenly burst out laughing. “Asher, first time meeting a soft girl, huh…” She was dragged away by her brother. Asher. I sighed. Not only was Chloe’s name pretty, but her brother’s name was nice too. After school, Carter and Mason were there, but halfway home, they both disappeared again. I knew. They went to find Chloe. But… didn’t they promise to model for me today? Walking the rest of the way home alone, I suddenly worked up the courage. I took out my phone and added Chloe on social media from the class group chat. I thought, she seems easy to talk to. maybe she would agree to my request. I wanted to ask her to share one of the childhood friends with me. Carter or Mason, either was fine. I just needed one person to keep me company. It was my first time walking home alone. I was scared. 3. Chloe said she would talk to me properly at school tomorrow. I was a little nervous. But the next day, I went to find her as requested. Chloe was sitting on her brother’s desk, legs crossed. Asher was frowning, clearly annoyed by her. “Asher, you better not look at me like that, or don’t blame me if I don’t help you later…” Before she finished, she waved at me excitedly. I walked over, my face a bit hot. Chloe said: “You cried in bed again last night, didn’t you?” Hesitantly, I nodded. Chloe said: “Why cry over two rotten pickles? If I can hook them today, someone else can hook them tomorrow. If I were you, I wouldn’t want either of them.” I felt she made sense, but I stayed silent. Chloe’s eyes darted around mischievously. Suddenly, she reached out and lifted her brother’s chin. Asher frowned deeper, raising a hand to swat hers away. But Chloe spoke first. “Since you’re lonely, I got you a new playmate.” “I’m giving my brother to you to play with. How about it? I guarantee, he’s better than those two put together.” My eyes went wide. Chloe was so generous! I finally knew why Mason and Carter liked her. Pretty, cute, and generous. If I were a boy, I’d like Chloe too. She was actually giving me her brother! Asher froze too. His hand paused in mid-air, and then his face got redder and redder. “Chloe! Stop messing around!” “Can I?” Asher and I spoke at the same time. The air went quiet. Chloe held back a laugh, walked over, and pinched my cheek. “Of course you can. Right, bro?” I heard Asher’s shout earlier. He sounded fierce. I was a little scared. “Maybe not? Is your brother unwilling?” Under Chloe’s teasing gaze, Asher’s face burned. Then, he coughed lightly. “Willing.” Chloe leaned on my shoulder, shaking with laughter. I thought she smelled nice, and her laugh was cute. But her brother’s face seemed to get darker. After school, Mason and Carter ran off again. I silently packed my bag, but a shadow suddenly appeared in front of me. I looked up. Asher was standing quietly beside me. “Packed?” I nodded. He picked up my backpack and slung it over his own shoulder. Asher was taller than Mason and Carter, his shoulders broader. My small backpack hanging off his side looked kind of cute. I followed silently behind him. We walked in single file, not speaking. Passing the snack stand at the back gate, looking at the hot pear tea, I licked my lips. “Want some?” I suspected Asher had eyes in the back of his head. He turned back and bought a cup. Holding the warm pear tea, I peeked at Asher. He wasn’t that scary. He even bought me tea. He was a good person. After that, whatever my eyes landed on, Asher bought. By the end, my hands were full. Suddenly, my hands were empty. Asher took more than half the stuff. “What do you want to eat most?” I pointed at the candy apple. He put it in my hand. “Okay. Finish that, then eat the second one.” Just like that, I walked home with a round belly. Asher handed me my backpack. I felt a little embarrassed. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow.” With that sentence, he left. Mason pushed open the door from my house, looking a bit grim. “Why are you back so late? I went to pick you up but didn’t see anyone. You didn’t take our shortcut?” Because I was eating too much, Asher was afraid I wouldn’t have enough time, so we took the longer route. I nodded. Mason sighed. “I’ll keep you company tomorrow. I didn’t know Carter ran off today too.” I didn’t speak. 4. Early the next morning, as soon as I stepped out, I saw Asher. He stood there quietly. I didn’t know how long he’d been waiting. I looked at Mason’s house. He said he’d accompany me yesterday, but I was afraid he wouldn’t be there again, so I left with Asher. Compared to yesterday, I wasn’t afraid of Asher at all today. I couldn’t help whispering to him about the TV drama I watched last night. Asher’s face remained cool, but surprisingly, he talked quite a bit. He listened for a few sentences, then softly agreed with me. “Really? That’s terrible.” “Really? That’s great.” “Yeah, I won’t watch that actor’s shows anymore either.” I talked more and more happily until we entered the classroom and I realized how fast time had flown. Asher put my bag on my desk and whispered a reminder. “Remember to find me if you need anything.” Chloe’s teasing voice sounded from behind. “Asher, you left before dawn. Where did you go?” Asher ignored her and went back to his seat. My eyes widened. Did Asher wait at my door before the sun even came up? During a long break, I looked at a math problem on my test paper and wanted to ask Carter. Carter was good at math. I always asked him. So I walked over and handed him the paper. Carter chuckled lightly. “This is simple. Sit down, I’ll explain it.” Before I could sit, Chloe appeared. She smiled sweetly. “Carter, my earring just fell on the playground. Can you help me find it?” Carter’s face turned red instantly. “Ah? Sure… sure.” He followed Chloe like he’d lost his soul. I stood there, at a loss. “Bring it here. I’ll help you.” Asher’s voice sounded behind me. I turned around, startled. He was amazing. He wrote out three different ways to solve it in an instant. “Didn’t I tell you? Ask me if you don’t understand something.” He handed the paper back to me, looking a bit resigned. I picked at my fingers. “I was afraid of bothering you.” He placed his hand on the desk and tapped lightly. It sounded nice. “Didn’t Chloe tell you? I’m the one she compensated you with…” I blinked. The tips of his ears were red again. “Playmate.” “Don’t feel like a burden. You can find me for anything.” Then, he quickly lowered his head and wrote out a fourth solution. I was dumbfounded. “You’re so smart!” Smarter than Carter and Mason combined. Asher’s ears turned even redder. “What are you guys doing? Lily, do you even know him? Why are you sitting next to him?” A stern question rang out. I looked up and saw Mason standing nearby. He had clearly just returned from the restroom, glaring death at me and Asher.

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My childhood best friend accidentally discovered my secret: I’m intersex. Panicked, I threatened him: “Don’t tell anyone!” His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly. “Then let me see it, and I’ll keep your secret.” “Deal?” 01 Playing League of Legends late at night, I was on a ten-game winning streak. Feeling cocky, I immediately sent a screenshot of my match history to my childhood friend, Carter Hayes. [Hehe, look at me go. Am I awesome or what?] I expected a couple of “You’re a beast” compliments, but Carter replied with something baffling. [?] [Let me see.] I was confused. See what? Didn’t I just send the screenshot? Before I could react, a FaceTime call popped up. I answered blankly. Carter’s handsome face appeared on the screen. He must have just showered; his hair was wet and messy, and his dark eyes were staring straight at me through the screen. I tilted my head. “It’s late. Why are you video calling?” “Didn’t you say ‘look at me’?” “I sent you the screenshot, are you blind—” Suddenly, I paused. I realized what this jerk was implying. Damn it… “Carter, do you have no shame?” “If the girls chasing you knew you were this much of a perv behind the scenes, they’d regret ever liking you.” I laughed and cursed at him. Carter didn’t get angry. A hint of a smile appeared on his usually cold face. “You asked me to look, so naturally, I have to support you.” “Besides, we’re both guys. What’s the harm in looking?” Then, his gaze turned profound. “Ezra, unless you have a secret in your pants you don’t want me to know about?” 02 My expression froze for a second, then quickly returned to my lazy demeanor. “Secret my ass.” “I’m mainly afraid you’ll feel inferior after seeing it.” Carter looked enlightened. “So that’s why you never went to the bathroom with me at school, never showered together after gym, and haven’t slept over at my place in ages? All to protect my fragile ego?” I gave him a thumbs up. “Congratulations on learning to deduce. Good boy, now go to sleep.” I don’t know which word amused him, but Carter rolled over in bed. The lighting cast shadows on his handsome face, making him look incredibly good. He continued to stare at me, his tone indulgent. “Ezra, you’re fierce as hell.” “Bullshit, how am I fierce?” “Always bristling like a cat.” “Hey, I’m not a cat.” I retorted grumpily, chatting nonsense with him. My mood soared for no reason. Just before hanging up, I remembered what our friend Big Mike said during the game. “Carter, Big Mike wants to organize a trip to a hot spring resort for a couple of days before the holidays. You in?” “If you go, I go.” “Okay, I’ll tell him.” “What about sleeping arrangements? You sharing a bed with me?” Carter asked casually. My eyelid twitched violently. I feigned disgust. “There are plenty of rooms at the resort. Why do you have to stick to me? Sleep by yourself.” “What if there aren’t enough rooms?” I hedged. “Not enough… we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. How could a huge resort run out of rooms?” The repeated rejections made Carter’s expression cool down a bit. He became somewhat distant and imposing. This was his normal state in front of outsiders. But having grown up with him, I knew instantly I had upset him. Usually, when we joked around, he didn’t care, even indulging me. But when he was really angry, just one look from him made me cower. “Fine, fine. We’ll sleep together if we have to. Don’t be like that.” He didn’t accept it, asking coolly: “Ezra, did I offend you somehow?” “No, it’s… it’s my own issue.” “What issue? I always feel like you’re hiding something from me, and this secret is keeping you distant.” My heart jumped. I forced down my panic and lied. “Don’t overthink it.” “We’re grown up now. We can’t be glued together like when we were kids. Two guys acting like that is weird.” “If anyone’s clinging, it should be a girlfriend.” “…” Carter looked expressionlessly at my guilty face through the screen. His eyes held a scrutinizing look. As if he could see through my secret. Cold sweat trickled down my back. But a moment later, he returned to normal. “Mm, got it. Go to sleep early.” He hung up. I didn’t know if he believed me or not. Clutching my phone, I collapsed on the bed, staring blankly. After a long while, I sat up and pulled open my pajama pants. Looking down, my eyes filled with disgust and helplessness. Because there was something there that didn’t belong on a man. It was pink, pretty, but deformed. 03 Since I can remember, my parents always felt guilty toward me. I didn’t understand when I was little, but gradually I understood. Because I was like Carter, but also not. He was a normal boy, and I was a freak. I possessed female parts. I started to hide this secret carefully. In school, I used germaphobia as an excuse to avoid using public restrooms or showering with others. Even in college, I never went to public bathhouses. I acted like a normal guy with my bros, arms around shoulders, but I never dared to play childish games like comparing sizes. Living in fear every day. I dared not let anyone know except my parents and doctors. Especially Carter. He was great. Cold personality, brilliant, just his face alone made him the center of envy. He was also my best bro, childhood friend, neighbor. When I was silently sad because of this deformity, he comforted me without knowing why. When I was bullied as a kid because my growth was delayed due to this condition, he fought for me. But I never dared to tell him why I was sad. I was afraid that if Carter knew, he would look at me with disgust and distance himself. Even more afraid he would tell others, ruining my reputation forever. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him; I just didn’t dare to gamble. So I deliberately avoided him. But now my avoidance made him angry. Damn. Is it worth giving me attitude just because I won’t sleep in the same bed? Annoying. He’s so annoying. I rubbed my face against the pillow glumly. After a while, I DM’d Big Mike and told him to book a room with two double beds for me and Carter. No choice. Just have to sleep. I’ll just wear two layers of underwear and pajama pants. That way, I can maintain our relationship without exposing my secret. Three layers of protection. Maximum security. Unless Carter has X-ray vision. 04 On the day of the hot spring trip, Carter naturally found out at the front desk that we were sharing a room. He looked at me with some surprise. Raised an eyebrow. “Not disgusted by me anymore?” I scoffed. “Barely tolerating you.” Carter smiled. It looked really good. The cold war of the past few days officially ended. We went back to bantering. But I wasn’t stupid enough to completely let my guard down. Back in the room, I needed to change into a bathrobe for the hot springs. I avoided Carter and went to the bathroom. After taking off my pants, I didn’t dare look down. Blushing, I put on two pairs of underwear first. Uncomfortable, but it added a layer of protection. After checking carefully to ensure nothing showed, I opened the bathroom door. Only to be startled by Carter standing right outside. I didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, silent. Seeing me come out, he looked me up and down. Remembering the bathroom door was frosted glass, my heart jumped. Did he… see anything? But I kept calm on the surface. “Playing doorman?” “Wanted to use the bathroom, but you were in there forever.” Carter’s gaze landed on my face, voice flat. “Ezra, do you despise me even when changing clothes?” Great, he’s being dramatic again. I explained hopelessly: “Nothing like that. Didn’t I agree to share a room tonight?” “If that’s not enough, want to share a blanket tonight?” He nodded instantly. “Sure.” “?” I tried to salvage it. “I was joking, bro.” Carter’s eyes were dark. “I took it seriously.” “…” I wanted to slap my big mouth. Doomed. Looks like I need to wear another pair of boxers tonight.

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We were playing the same punishment game. If any other girl just smiled at him, he would play the White Knight and drink for her. But when it pointed to me, he pointed at the track. “Either go run 10 laps or chug the mystery mix. Your choice.” He even stopped others from helping me. “Harper has hands and feet. It’s just a penalty, she can handle it.” For Field Day, he designed custom jerseys for the entire homeroom. There were 49 students, but he ordered 48 shirts. He scoffed, “Miss High-and-Mighty would never wear such an ugly thing anyway.” But when I actually wore someone else’s jersey, he crushed the water bottle in his hand. “Why the hell are you two wearing matching couple outfits?!” 1. There were 49 people in our homeroom, but only 48 jerseys arrived. Ordering the Field Day gear was supposed to be the Student Council rep’s job. But Archer took over. He stood at the front of the class, slamming his hand on the podium to get everyone’s attention. “Everyone knows Field Day is coming up. The school wants every homeroom to have a theme for the parade. My dad knows some designers, so I’m handling the jerseys. Sound good?” The class went silent for a second, then erupted in cheers. Archer lifted his eyelids, casting a lazy, indifferent glance in my direction. My pen paused on my notebook, and my heart sank. Ever since junior high, my childhood friend, Archer Vance, had changed. He used to be the boy who wanted me everywhere he went. He couldn’t stand seeing me cry. Now, he just loved to bully me. It started with public humiliation. If anyone liked me, he made sure the whole school knew about it in the worst way. His frat-boy friends would say, “Archer, heard some guy from AP Chem likes Harper. That’s not cool, right?” “She’s basically your little wifey. What if she gets stolen?” Back then, Archer would kick his friend’s chair impatiently. “Chill. I have zero interest in a girl who’s as soft as a marshmallow. She’s boring.” But when we were five, he was the one crying and begging our parents to promise we’d get married. He even stole his mom’s expensive jewelry to give to me. “Here, my mom says you need gold to get married. This is my engagement gift.” He got a mixed-doubles beating from his parents that night. But I accepted the gift. Over time, he wasn’t satisfied with just verbal teasing. Every time he bought coffee for the girls in our friend group, he’d “forget” mine. When he told me the time for group projects, he’d always tell me an hour later than everyone else. At first, I would bite my lip, holding back tears. He would just ruffle my hair and whisper, “Don’t be sad, little Harper. I just wanted you to get some extra rest.” Once, twice… Eventually, I realized. He didn’t forget. He deliberately didn’t buy it. He deliberately excluded me. My mom said, “Harper, isn’t it true that Archer gave you his family heirloom? If you get in trouble, doesn’t he stop others from bullying you?” “That just means he cares about you differently. Boys that age don’t know how to express themselves. He’s probably just trying to get your attention but using the wrong method.” “Go talk to Archer.” 2. The result of talking to him was a basketball whizzing past my ear, grazing my hand. I flinched. I looked at his face—I couldn’t tell if it was red from anger or the heat—and his lips moving fast. “Who the hell wants to get your attention?” “So many girls are chasing me, why do you think you’re so special?” “Why don’t you just admit you’re the one desperate to be my wife, so you’re overanalyzing everything?” “I told you I just have a bad memory. You think too damn much.” He walked away, back stiff, then frowned and ran back to get in my face. He shouted, “Harper, I’ve been looking at you for years. I’m bored of your face.” “I will absolutely never like you.” That night, I cried into my pillow until my eyes were swollen. I had taken every promise Archer made as a kid seriously. I really did like him. But as the bullying got worse, I stopped caring about those feelings. This time, the rep counted the jerseys and whispered awkwardly, “Why is there one missing again?” I sat in my seat, unable to even hold my pen. I looked up and met Archer’s playful, mocking eyes. 3. The whispers around me suddenly got louder. “It’s probably Harper’s shirt that’s missing again.” “Archer is usually nice to everyone. When I fell, he carried me to the nurse and bought me ice. Why is he only mean to Harper?” “Thank god it wasn’t me. I’d die of embarrassment. Everyone has one but her… I’d be up all night wondering what’s wrong with me.” At the same time, I remembered passing an alley recently. Archer’s friend asked him, “Arch, bullying Harper is kinda fun, huh? Every time she looks at you like a scared bunny… honestly, that look makes my heart skip a beat.” Immediately, that friend got kicked to the ground. “Don’t you dare get any ideas about Harper. Only I can bully her.” Someone else pressed, “Why though? You don’t actually like her, do you?” “Bullsh*t. I look at her and I get annoyed.” “She’s always hovering around me, smiling at me. It makes me agitated.” “But, you know, we grew up together.” Another friend got kicked. In that instant, I understood everything. It wasn’t what my mom said about “caring.” It was just Archer’s twisted game. My blood ran cold, and my teeth started to chatter. Turns out, you can trace exactly when a person turns rotten. Archer finished handing out the shirts and sauntered over to my desk. “Miss High-and-Mighty wouldn’t look at this kind of cheap goods anyway, right?” I looked at him and suddenly smiled, relieved. “You’re right. I wouldn’t want to look at trash given by you, not even for a second.” 4. A gasp rippled through the classroom. Archer’s eyes turned red with anger. No one dared to speak. Suddenly, Bella, the “class beauty” from Homeroom 3, waved from the window, calling Archer’s name. He didn’t move. He slammed his hand down on my exam paper. “Is that so? Good for you.” “I actually custom-designed one just for you, but it looks like you don’t deserve it.” In the past, I would have tried to reason with Archer. If he secretly gave me the item later, I would have wiped my tears and smiled. But after realizing my years of affection had turned into mud, nothing mattered anymore. The late remedies, the special treatment… My mind cleared up. Every time he did this, he was just roasting me over a fire. Besides, in a class where everyone matches, the one person wearing something different stands out the most. And not in a good way. While we were in a standoff, Bella walked in and draped her arm around Archer’s shoulder. “Aren’t you taking me to the game? Why are we wasting time here?” Archer didn’t move, glaring at me with fire in his eyes. Suddenly, he rushed back to his seat, ripped a plastic-wrapped, light-colored shirt out of his bag, and threw it at Bella. He stared dead at me. “Miss High-and-Mighty doesn’t want it. It’s yours.” I recognized the brand. It was the designer Archer always bought for me before I turned fourteen. That designer retired three years ago. To get him to design again, you’d have to run errands for him for a month for free. Last summer, Archer disappeared for a month. He said he was grounded. “Nice stuff. I’ll take it. But Harper, it’s no fun if you take a joke too seriously.” Bella smiled and tugged at Archer’s shirt. He patted her hand, looking resigned. Usually, if I walked a bit too slow, he’d yell at me to hurry up. I smiled bitterly. He could be gentle. Just not to me. The bell rang. 5. The crowd watching the drama dispersed. I gathered my emotions and went back to solving problems. For the whole day, I didn’t look at Archer. After evening study hall ended. Archer came over out of habit, waiting for me to pack up, ready to reach out and carry my bag. He had formed this habit since we were kids. But this time, I slapped his hand away. Coldly: “No need to trouble you. I can do small things like this myself.” “And I won’t need your help in the future, either.” He froze, then snapped back to reality. He slammed his own bag on the floor. “What do you mean, Harper? You’re drawing a line with me?” “You really can’t take a joke?” I didn’t know where the limit of his “jokes” lay, nor did I know how much sincerity was in his teasing. But none of that justified him hurting me. Like is like. If I don’t like it, I don’t like it. Someone whispered, “Damn, Harper changed. Since when is she so tough?” I stared at Archer without speaking. I had been around him too long. In private, we were clingy. The affection was rooted in my heart. So I subconsciously held back my temper around him. But now it wasn’t necessary. He wasn’t worth my kindness. I picked up my bag and left. Behind me, I heard the sound of tables and chairs colliding.

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After the first time we slept together, my boyfriend laughed coldly. “You never expected this, did you? I’m the scum you rejected back in high school.” “How does it feel to have your first time taken by trash?” Staring at Wyatt’s face—the bleached hair now dyed black, the ear piercings healed—I could vaguely see the look of humiliation and rage from years ago when I rejected his confession. I looked at him with relief. “You really are brothers. Your brother said the exact same thing.” “He’s in the closet. Let’s invite him out, shall we?” 01 After waking up, Wyatt kept laughing, louder and louder. I thought he discovered the secret in the closet, my heart pounding. While re-hooking my bra strap, I pretended to be calm and asked, “What’s wrong?” Wyatt wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. “I’m laughing at you. The straight-A student, the Valedictorian. Who knew you’d lose so completely to me this time!” He pointed at the messy bed, his tone proud and reckless. “You still haven’t recognized me? It’s me, Wyatt Vance. The ‘trust fund trash’ from the remedial class in high school.” “The scum you rejected just slept with you last night. Tsk, top of the class, high degree… you’re not all that in bed.” Distracted, I hooked my bra strap wrong. It was uneven, cutting into my chest and making it hard to breathe. I looked at the boyfriend I had lived with for a year. My mind was a mess, and I could only ask one thing. “Why treat me like this?” When I met Wyatt, I had just gained a foothold in New York City. He was a new intern. On his first day, he spilled coffee on my shirt. He was handsome, his eyes red-rimmed as he apologized profusely. I didn’t hold it against him, but Wyatt clung to me after that. He claimed to be from a single-parent family, working part-time to put himself through college. His pitiful story, so similar to my own background, made me care for him a little more. Over time, whenever I worked late, Wyatt was there. He always saved a portion of his lunch for me. When I was followed walking home at night, Wyatt beat the guy up and ended up in the station with a concussion, almost brain-damaged. The day we became official, he showed up at my door after dark with just a backpack, saying his landlord kicked him out. His young, handsome face looked pathetic. “Sister, can you lend me two hundred? I’ll pay you back.” Things happened naturally, and we moved in together. Today was our one-year anniversary, and Wyatt’s birthday. He closed his eyes to make a wish. When he opened them, his voice was hoarse. “God can’t grant my wish, but you can.” He undid his shirt with trembling hands, offering himself as a gift. Six-foot-four, lean muscle. Who wouldn’t be moved? But now, Wyatt wore a mocking smile. He tore apart his planned revenge right in front of me. After speaking, he looked at me expectantly, waiting for my reaction. “Valedictorian, let’s agree now, don’t cry. You just got played by scum once, it’s not a stain on your life~” I suddenly laughed. Laughed until I had to wipe my tears. 02 Wyatt froze, a flicker of unnaturalness in his eyes. He lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply, and scoffed. “What are you laughing at? Don’t act like it’s nothing. Don’t you girls care about that kind of thing?” “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have wasted a year tricking you into bed.” I stood up and pressed my hand against the closet door. A two-meter-tall wardrobe, wide enough to hide a person. “Wyatt, you mentioned before that you have a brother, right?” “Like brother, like brother. He’s in here too.” “Let’s invite him out, shall we?” The smile on Wyatt’s face froze. He was furious, his eyes bloodshot. “Harper! You played my brother too?!” “When did this happen? Speak!” I invited Wyatt to open the closet door. He hurriedly put on his clothes, waved away the smoke, and stood before the closet. He studied my expression seriously. “Harper, you’re lying. How would you know my brother? He would never…” The next second, Wyatt stopped. I opened the closet door a crack. Revealing the tip of a men’s leather shoe. Wyatt looked like he’d been struck by lightning. Gasping for air, he stumbled back a few steps and ran out the door. Only when I heard the car start downstairs did I lose my strength. I pulled the closet door open completely. Inside was a groom’s suit. And my wedding dress. Plus a bouquet of roses for a proposal. I had planned to propose tonight, on Wyatt’s birthday. Luckily, Wyatt revealed his true colors early. Luckily, he didn’t love me. Since my sincerity was trampled, I felt no guilt lying to him. 03 Since we separated that day, I assumed we were broken up. But at the company team-building event, a thoughtful colleague arranged for us to sit together. Wyatt was late. And he brought a new female companion. When he introduced her, his gaze swept over me with a faint smile. “This is the girl I’ve been chasing for years. She just came back from abroad. First time meeting everyone.” The colleague who arranged the seating sent me an apologetic message. [Sorry, I didn’t know you guys broke up.] [It’s okay. I didn’t have time to say.] [I thought I’d be attending your wedding! First time seeing such a devoted guy. When you had cramps, he’d cry while warming your stomach… why did you break up?] I didn’t reply because Wyatt skillfully started peeling crawfish. The girl he brought smiled shyly and pushed her bowl forward. “Thanks, baby.” But Wyatt put the crawfish meat into my bowl. Under everyone’s gaze, the air went quiet. He raised an eyebrow, laughing nonchalantly. “Oh, I saw Sister Harper had no one serving her, so I’m taking care of her. You didn’t bring a date to the mixer? Must be single. Other guys should take a look at our Sister Harper.” “High degree, strong work ability, pushing thirty but no wrinkles, looks young.” “Single-parent family, no need to take care of in-laws, and she can take care of kids. Perfect!” Several male colleagues were eager to move. Using toasts as an excuse, they asked about my criteria for a partner. Just as a business card was handed over, Wyatt suddenly laughed, interrupting. “Forgot to mention, do you guys have a ‘virginity complex’? If so, forget it. Sister Harper isn’t suitable.” My face went pale. Everyone knew what he meant. A few younger men smiled awkwardly and changed the subject. A divorced male colleague took advantage of the toast to squeeze my shoulder, whispering, “It’s okay, I don’t mind.” I stood up and slapped him. Wiping my hands with a wet wipe, I turned to the girl Wyatt brought: “Hello. If you require a boyfriend who is a virgin, Wyatt definitely isn’t suitable for you.” Wyatt’s face turned the color of paper. 04 The girl held onto Wyatt’s arm and smiled politely. “Sister, I know about that. But Wyatt must have his reasons.” “He’s always been clumsy. He’s used to learning from others before coming back to take care of me.” “Men need experience to be experts. Women… too much experience is bad. There’s always a difference between men and women.” Wyatt affectionately kissed the girl’s forehead, looking at me indifferently. “Right. Theory isn’t enough. Only after practical application can I treat my girlfriend better.” The girl reminded him softly. “It’s really me! Thanks to Sister for reminding us, we haven’t gone official yet! Don’t want people misunderstanding who the third wheel is~” Wyatt tapped her nose dotingly. “Your mouth is sharper than our high-achieving student. But don’t play smart, she used to be formidable.” “Hmph, am I formidable or is she?” The girl acted coy. Wyatt raised an eyebrow at me. “I’m not like some people, picking partners based on degrees. Snobs.” The answer was self-evident. I downed a few glasses of wine and prepared to leave. Amidst the cheers, Wyatt pulled me back, asking me to take a picture. “Sister Harper, you’re smart, you take good photos. Thanks.” Everyone looked over. With a cold face, I watched the flash as the two kissed. I pressed the shutter numbly. I remembered when Wyatt confessed to me, he kissed me earnestly like this too. The wound on my waist where Wyatt had grabbed too hard throbbed again. I felt nauseous and went to the restroom. When I came back, the colleagues were strangely quiet, eyeing me curiously. Wyatt held up my phone, displaying a picture of wedding rings. His gaze was heavy as he asked casually. “Accidentally saw your photo. What were you planning? Proposing to me?” “Sorry, I don’t…” I snatched the phone back and said lightly, “Right. I’m going to propose to your brother. It’s a surprise, don’t tell him.” “If it works, you both have to call me sister-in-law.”

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Once again, Jasper Sterling used a starlet to force me into a divorce. I chose to compromise. The hand holding his cigarette paused slightly. After a long while, he smirked, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So obedient this time?” “Did you realize that going crazy doesn’t work, so you’re trying a new tactic?” I took off my wedding ring and spoke calmly: “No. I just don’t want to be entangled anymore.” 1. After a long silence, Jasper snubbed out the cigarette in his hand. Leaning half-against the wall, he spoke leisurely: “Actually, there’s no rush.” “It’s just that Bella’s career is on the rise recently.” “You constantly harassing her is really annoying.” I didn’t answer. Stroke by stroke. I seriously signed my name on the divorce papers. Then I said, “Don’t worry, I won’t do it anymore.” Jasper’s figure froze slightly, lost in thought. A moment later, he straightened up, his voice carrying a barely perceptible irritation: “Fine. That had better be true.” “Otherwise… you know the consequences.” My body trembled instinctively. Last time I was forced to divorce, I had an emotional breakdown. I exposed the explicit photos Bella sent to provoke me on the internet. But Jasper sued me for defamation. Afterward, I was doxxed by her fans, my personal information leaked, and I was forced to apologize publicly. That time, after hearing the court rule in his favor… Jasper looked at me going crazy with the same ease and control. Then he raised an eyebrow and dropped a sentence: “Wife, are you satisfied with this result?” It’s strange. It was so painful, so suffocating back then. But thinking back on it now. My heart didn’t waver at all. I only felt the irony. Carrying my luggage out the door. I looked at the plane ticket in my hand. Belatedly, I realized. I had finally let go of this relationship that left me in such a pathetic state. 2. On the giant screen at Time Square. Bella, endorsing a luxury lipstick brand, smiled confidently and dazzlingly. The image of the little girl baring her claws to provoke me in my memory gradually overlapped. Jasper was right about one thing. Bella’s career was indeed on the rise. Those explicit photos not only didn’t affect her. Instead, because of her “unapologetic” attitude, fans praised her as a “sober queen.” But the first time I discovered Jasper was cheating. It stemmed from Bella’s active provocation. At that time, I turned the entire Sterling household upside down. I let everyone know about the scandalous things Jasper did. During that period, all the wealthy wives I was friends with advised me. Advised me to be generous. Advised me to compromise. But I hated it. I hated Jasper for betraying me. Hated him for turning me into a hysterical madwoman. While he lived freely and happily with his mistress in his arms. I was unwilling, and I wasn’t willing to compromise. Until that time, a reporter snapped photos of the two of them getting a room at a hotel. The scandal was huge. To protect Bella’s future and reputation. Jasper decisively chose to go public with their relationship. At that time, the entire trending list was the love story between the billionaire heir and the female star. Stimulated, I went crazy and ran to Jasper’s company, screaming and making a scene in front of him. Jasper held back his anger and let Bella leave first, which only made me break down more. I smashed his head with an ashtray until he bled, cursing him as trash from the dumpster. In the end, he said coldly: “Fine! I’m trash, I cheated. If you can’t stand it, divorce me!” When the words fell, both he and I were stunned. But in the end, I spoke first. More hysterical than before, more like a lunatic. “Why should I divorce?!” “Why should I let you and that b*tch be happy?!” “Jasper, you and she deserve to carry the names of adulterer and homewrecker for the rest of your lives!!!” 3. After that, we parted on bad terms. Jasper didn’t even come home anymore. The only way I knew his whereabouts was through Bella’s Instagram posts showing off their love. Under multiple blows, I decided on an extreme measure: mutual destruction. I posted my marriage certificate with Jasper online, pointing out the fact that the two were cheating. But before the matter could ferment, Jasper made his move. He spent a huge sum to bribe my mother’s attending physician, blocking the treatment from abroad. Then he forced me to clarify that the marriage certificate was fake. The moment I heard the news, the blood drained from my face. I didn’t even notice Bella’s provocative and triumphant look. I almost screamed in a breakdown: “Jasper, you know her illness can’t wait!” “You know this will kill her!” “How can you be so cruel!?” But Jasper remained unmoved, still smoking calmly. When I collapsed on the sofa, exhausted. Only then did he put out the cigarette and say slowly: “Wife, don’t expect me to show you mercy.” “Go clarify. Don’t ruin her.” At that moment, my heart felt unprecedented suffocation and despair. Like a dying fish, flopping painfully on the shore. I couldn’t even believe the man in front of me was the lover I once had. That was also the day I finally decided to end this relationship. 4. But what made me pathetic was far more than this. My mother’s illness couldn’t wait; I had to choose to compromise. I personally admitted that the marriage certificate was fake, that everything was because of my jealousy and delusion. That tweet’s comment section is still filled with filthy language against me. [Sister, are you crazy for men?!] [Psycho, daring to spread rumors that my goddess is a mistress. You have no shame.] [Who wants to slap her to wake her up?] [Crowdfunding, I’ll chip in five bucks.] [I’ll chip in ten.] … During that time, I was muddled, like a walking corpse. I could only escape by staying by my mother’s hospital bed. Maybe my state was too haggard, even without access to the internet. My mother sensed something was wrong. Sighing, she talked to me about my past with Jasper. Young love is always the purest. In high school, Jasper liked me but felt inferior and didn’t dare to reveal his feelings. He just followed me day after day, escorting me home. Until that day, I was targeted by a few thugs. To protect me, Jasper had three ribs broken by sticks. But he gritted his teeth and shielded me firmly underneath him. Afterward, I naturally fell in love with him. At that time, Jasper hadn’t been recognized back into the Sterling family yet. He was still that wild kid living with his grandma, not having enough to eat or wear. It was my mother who had been helping him. Even his tuition was paid by my mother. But now, my mother’s past kindness became a sharp knife stabbing her. She didn’t know what her daughter was facing. I looked at my mother’s increasingly haggard face. I thought, let it be. At least, I still have my mother. At least, I haven’t lost everything. But fate loves to play tricks on the miserable.

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My memory reset to ten years ago. When my mom told me my ex-husband, Sebastian Thorne, already had a fiancée, and my son, Leo, called another woman “Mom”… Me: ? “Are you kidding? I’m the fiancée of the Thorne family’s golden boy, Alexander. How could I have married the family’s bastard son? And have a rude kid with him? Do I not care about my reputation? How will I show my face in high society?” As soon as I finished speaking, I turned around. The father and son were staring at me, eyes red with anger. 1. The second year after my divorce from Sebastian. My family went bankrupt. My dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Before he died, he wanted to see his grandson, Leo, one last time. But Sebastian held full custody. I called Sebastian countless times before he finally answered. Hearing my request, he just scoffed. “Leo is busy with chess club. Why don’t you ask your fiancé to be the dutiful son-in-law?” The fiancé he mentioned was Alexander Thorne. His half-brother. Alexander was the golden boy of the Thorne dynasty, the chosen one. Sebastian was the illegitimate son, unacknowledged and despised. Growing up, he had no money, no status. Until three years ago, when Alexander ended up in a coma after an accident. Only then did Sebastian gain control of Thorne Enterprises. He hated Alexander deeply. Back then, he only pursued and married me because I was Alexander’s fiancée. He once told me to my face: “Marrying Chloe was just a means to an end. It wasn’t love.” So, I didn’t understand why he was bringing up my past with Alexander now. Maybe he just didn’t want to grant my father his dying wish. “Please… I’m begging you.” For my dad, I would have knelt and begged. He was silent for a long time. Finally, he spoke, voice void of emotion. “I’ll ask for Leo’s opinion.” A moment later, a childish voice came through the phone: “Can we go tomorrow? We agreed to pick up Auntie Sarah at the airport today.” “Auntie Sarah” was Sarah Miller, Sebastian’s first love. The one he called “the person I wronged the most in this life.” To get revenge and marry me, Sebastian abandoned her. How nice. Before we even divorced, they had rekindled their romance. Even the son I endured so much pain to birth was on their side. Thinking of this, I felt a bitter irony. I didn’t even notice the call had ended. That day, my dad passed away with regret. The day after my dad died, overwhelmed with grief, I got into a car accident. When I woke up, I saw my mom washing her face with tears. Confused, I asked, “Mom, aren’t I supposed to be at college? Why was I in a car accident?” 2. Sebastian had been on a business trip for a week. As soon as he landed, he heard about Chloe’s accident. He practically flew to the hospital, ordering his assistant to pick up Leo. On the way, memories flashed through his mind. Five years ago. To spite Alexander, he deliberately pursued Chloe. Chloe fell for him hard. For him, she defied her family and moved into his cramped apartment. Everyone laughed at her for choosing an illegitimate son, predicting a life of misery. But she didn’t care. “I’m tired of the rich life. I want to taste what ordinary life is like. Besides, you won’t let me suffer, right?” That sentence made him work even harder. Late nights coding, he would sometimes zone out. Didn’t he not love her? Why did he listen to her so much? As time passed, he realized he loved her desperately. Like any male in nature, he would go through fire and water for his chosen mate. Later, his startup took off. Their son was born. Sebastian thought his life was finally on track. He was no longer the pitiful worm in the gutter. Until one day. He took her to his old neighborhood. Late at night, drunk, he reminisced about the past he couldn’t let go of. “Just because I’m illegitimate, am I lesser than Alexander forever? I have to prove I’m better. First Chloe, then the company. I’ll take everything, piece by piece.” … He slumped down. “It’s just… I’m sorry to Sarah. She was the one I loved, but for revenge, I had to marry someone else.” Chloe had come to find him and heard everything. From then on, he lost his happiness again. 3. Chloe was a proud person. After marrying him, she never took a penny from her family. She knew people laughed at her for abandoning the Thorne heir to suffer with him. But she looked down on them too. “At least my husband is handsome and loves me. Unlike theirs, ugly and cheating!” She was so confident, always thinking she wouldn’t lose. So in that moment, how heartbroken must she have been? If not for their son, if not for him refusing to give up custody, she would have divorced him long ago. But even without divorce, their marriage was empty. She never treated him well again, never acted cute, never hung on him praising his looks. All happiness was gone. But how could he be reconciled? So, he used every trick. He made it look like he loved Sarah, initiated the divorce, and used Leo’s affection to force Chloe to compromise. To force her to be a loving couple with him again. He had had enough of being alone. Until now, with Chloe’s accident, he realized he had gone too far. He regretted it. He realized that in this world, only Chloe never despised him for being illegitimate. Even though he controlled Thorne Enterprises now, he knew no one truly respected him. They were all waiting for Alexander to wake up. In this world, only Chloe would abandon Alexander and run to him. He wouldn’t torment Chloe anymore. 4. In the hospital. The medical equipment was slowly moved away. I opened my eyes and heard the doctor. They said I had amnesia. I lost ten years of memories. From thirty back to twenty. I still thought I was a college student. My mom sighed. “Maybe it’s better to forget. At least you won’t humiliate yourself in front of that father and son anymore.” Me: ? Father and son. “Who?” Facing my blank stare, my mom told me everything. Then she ran outside to cry. Leaving me alone to process. Turns out, in these ten years, I married and divorced. When I married Sebastian, he was worthless. When we divorced, he replaced Alexander as the CEO of Thorne Enterprises. Later, Sebastian got a new fiancée. Leo acknowledged a new mom. A happy family of three. And I, shamelessly, kept trying to see Leo, even though he didn’t appreciate it and threw my birthday gifts on the ground. “After all, he’s your flesh and blood. How could you not care?” My mom’s words echoed in my ears. As if I were truly a tragic mother missing her son. But… I had no memory of it. I didn’t believe it. Hard to believe. And felt ashamed. “No way—are you lying? Aren’t I Alexander’s fiancée? How could I marry the Thorne family’s bastard son? And have a rude kid? Do I not care about my reputation? How will I show my face in high society?” After all, I grew up flaunting my status as Alexander’s fiancée. Marrying an illegitimate son? The Thorne family doesn’t allow illegitimate children. Does that mean I lived a hard life? The circle must be laughing their heads off. Thinking this, I felt a chill on my neck, as if being watched. I turned around instinctively. Two people, one tall, one short, looking very much alike. They stared at me, eyes red.

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I married an old-fashioned doctor. He always said I was too young. Yet he was willing to unbutton his shirt to keep my sister warm. Disheartened, I sighed. He said, “Just talk. Can you button my shirt back up first?” I ran away from home. He caught me at a hotel: “Not coming home? Planning to elope with that brat?” “Did he know you have to cuddle me to sleep every night?” “Speak.” That night, I was terrified. I had never seen Dr. Lee lose control like that. 1. I woke up from a nap at 6:30 PM. Calculating the time, Adrian Lee should be off work. [Hubby, are you off work?] [Can I come pick you up?] [A new bakery opened on Food Street. The cupcakes look so pretty! I want to eat them! Look!] Shutterstock I put down my phone. I put on makeup and changed my clothes. An hour passed. The chat box still only had my ramblings. Adrian hadn’t replied. I patted my cheeks, cheering myself up. It’s normal. Adrian is a doctor. Work is busy. He can’t always reply instantly. Forget it, I’ll just go to the hospital to pick him up. Just as I was about to leave, I got a call from my mom. “Luna, where are you?” “Come to the hospital quickly!” “Something happened to your sister!” 2. Rushing to the hospital, I saw Adrian first. My sister was crying, saying something I couldn’t hear. He sighed. Unbuttoned his white coat and draped it over my sister’s shoulders. My steps paused. My mom saw me: “Luna, come here!” I pretended nothing was wrong. Walking over, I realized my sister was covered in blood. “Sis! What happened! Are you okay?” My sister’s face was pale. She smiled and said, “It’s okay, this isn’t my blood. Don’t worry.” My sister encountered a car accident. As a doctor, she gave first aid on the roadside. My mom saw her covered in blood on the news. Scared, she called me. My sister wiped her tears and said, “Thanks to Adrian. He accepted this batch of patients. Otherwise, I really wouldn’t know what to do.” Adrian shook his head: “It’s nothing. Just doing my job.” My sister’s eyes reddened again: “Just a pity, a few of them couldn’t be saved…” As she spoke, she sobbed softly. Adrian handed her a tissue and said, “You did your best.” My sister shook her head, saying, “No. If I had been a little faster, appeared a little earlier, maybe I could have saved them.” I patted my sister’s shoulder to comfort her. Only then did Adrian seem to notice me, turning his head to ask, “Why are you here?” I froze for a moment, replying blankly: “To pick you up from work.” “No need. I have to work overtime tonight. You go back first.” Adrian’s voice was always steady, no matter who he was talking to. “Oh.” He was already walking away. My sister stood up and chased after him: “I happen to be free. Is there anything I can help with?” The two left together. I looked at their backs. Truly a perfect match. 3. When Adrian came back, it was deep into the night. He slept in the guest room. Always like this. Married for half a year, he refused to touch me. Every time we were together, he would say: “You’re still too young.” “Be good, listen.” I didn’t want to listen. I got up. Like every night, I crawled into his bed. Adrian had just showered, wearing a towel around his waist. Water dripped from his hair onto his collarbone. I swallowed and heard him say: “Come here.” I ran over foolishly. He gave me his slippers. “Not wearing shoes again.” It’s this time already. Who cares about shoes? I pounced on him, ready to devour him. Ah, abs. Ah, V-line. Ah… Adrian pushed me away. His gaze was a bit unnatural. The towel tented up slightly. Adrian fled in defeat. “I’m going to take another shower.” I hugged him from behind. “Adrian Lee, do you plan to hide from me forever?” “Either consummate the marriage, or divorce.” “You choose.” 4. Adrian was very stiff. His body was hot yet cold. The little girl’s small hands were like fire, igniting flames wherever they touched. “Luna, listen, you’re still too young.” “I’m not young. I’m graduating next year.” I walked in front of Adrian. His eyes held emotions I couldn’t understand, suppressing something. I cupped his face, looking into his dark eyes. “Hubby, don’t you want me?” The next moment. Kisses overwhelmed me. Landing all over my body. Water droplets from Adrian’s hair hit me. Very cold, a bit stinging. He picked me up. His whole being wrapped around me. It hurt. I felt his deep possessiveness. Burning hot. Different from his usual calm demeanor towards everything. I could feel he was loving me fiercely. That night was long. Couldn’t stop at all. We tossed and turned until the sun rose. I was so sleepy I couldn’t take it anymore, finally begging for mercy repeatedly. I only heard Adrian’s hoarse voice: “Call me Hubby.” “Hubby.” His bite mark landed on my back. I passed out. 5. When I woke up, Adrian wasn’t by my side. “Urgent task at the hospital. I’ll try to come back early. Food is warm in the pot, eat when you wake up.” I let out a long sigh of relief. Covered the marks all over my body with the quilt. Turned over, wanting to sleep a bit more. My phone vibrated non-stop. It was my friend, Sam. I picked up: “Spit it out.” My voice was frighteningly hoarse. Sam was startled: “Grandma, do you have a fever again? Why do you sound like Marge Simpson?” It was from screaming last night. Adrian, that psycho. Tormenting me in all kinds of ways. I blushed and said: “None of your business. What is it?” “Oh, the thing you asked me to check before, I checked it.” “What thing?” I forgot. “About Adrian and your sister. Didn’t you suspect there was something between them? You forgot?” I really… forgot. Remembering my sister crying yesterday, my heart sank. “What… did you find out?” Sam sighed, his tone rarely serious. “Luna, are you sure you want to know?” “If you don’t want to hear it now, it’s not too late.”

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