The day I divorced Julian Thorne, I received a call from the hospital. They apologized profusely, telling me they had mixed up my test results yesterday. The other report, the one diagnosing late-stage heart failure, was actually mine. “So, Ms. Reed, please come back to the hospital with your husband, just like yesterday.” I stood outside the courthouse, watching Julian rush into his car and speed away as if escaping a plague. Husband? I didn’t have one anymore. 1 On the way to divorce Julian, I suddenly coughed up blood. When the crimson stain bloomed on the tissue, I froze. He froze too. The car stopped by the roadside. Julian looked at me, his expression strange. Not concern, but worry. Worry that I might back out of the divorce I had finally agreed to. Silence filled the car. I wiped the blood from my mouth and looked up, meeting Julian’s furrowed brows. Outside, the storm had passed, and watery sunlight filtered through the windows. After all these years, his face was still breathtakingly handsome. My heart skipped a beat, and I looked away. Julian’s impatience was palpable. But his upbringing and manners compelled him to drive me to the hospital first. On the way, he made a call. His tone was unusually gentle: “I’ll be delayed a bit. I’ll come over this afternoon.” I turned my head to the window, pretending not to hear, pretending not to know who was on the other end. I remembered how the storm this morning reduced visibility to near zero. Yet Julian had arrived downstairs before 8 AM to pick me up. He must have been eager to finish the paperwork and go to her. I clenched the bloody tissue, my fingers aching. In seven years of marriage, the only thing that made him rush to see me was divorce. 2 At the hospital, I showed the doctor the bloody tissue. After a lengthy consultation, the doctor ordered a stack of tests. Paying, queuing, testing. By noon, the results still weren’t out. Julian checked his phone frequently, his face darkening. He asked the lab several times, only to be told the doctors were on break and results wouldn’t be ready until after 4 PM. When his phone rang again, I said flatly, “Why don’t you go ahead? We can go to the courthouse tomorrow.” Julian looked visibly relieved. After a polite hesitation, he nodded. “Call me if anything happens.” He walked briskly into the elevator, phone already to his ear. His gentle murmurs faded as the doors closed. I watched him leave. As expected, he didn’t look back. I sat alone in the hallway waiting. Last night, chest pain and nausea kept me awake. Now, despite the noise, drowsiness overwhelmed me. I closed my eyes for a nap and drifted into a deep sleep. I woke up groggy. It seemed darker outside. Someone passed by with the smell of a boxed lunch. I checked my phone; it was past 5 PM. I heard a girl crying. Suppressing, helpless sobs that sounded heartbreaking. I looked up and saw a girl in her twenties curled up in a corner nearby, weeping. Hospitals are full of pitiful people and crying is a daily occurrence. My own life was a mess; I didn’t feel qualified to comfort anyone. I stood up to leave. But the girl seemed to lose her strength, dropping a test report she had been clutching. It drifted silently to my feet. I looked down and saw the diagnosis: Late-stage left heart failure. Then I noticed the patient’s name: “Sarah Reed.” I froze. 3 So young, yet struck with an incurable disease. I felt a pang of sympathy. Perhaps the name “Sarah Reed” was cursed. I took a tissue from my bag and handed it to her. “Wipe your tears.” I wasn’t good at comforting people. The girl looked up, tear-streaked face full of despair. She took the tissue, sobbing a thank you I could barely hear. Before I could speak, someone rushed past me, bumping my shoulder. A woman in her fifties, sweat on her brow despite the snow on her coat. She had clearly rushed here in a panic. She threw herself at the girl, hugging her tight, eyes red. “My baby, my poor baby! “Don’t be afraid, Mom is here. Mom will give you her heart!” The girl’s suppressed sobs turned into a wail of terror. “Mom, I’m scared. I don’t want to die.” Watching them, I remembered. Years ago, my mom used to call me “baby” too. She died when I was eight. No one called me that anymore. My eyes stung. I looked away. The elevator doors opened, and a group of people rushed out. Men in suits, an old lady with white hair, young and middle-aged alike. Six or seven people, faces full of anxiety, hurried over. In moments, the girl who had been crying alone in the corner was surrounded. Voices of comfort, weeping, and brainstorming mixed together. I squatted down to pick up my bag that had been knocked to the floor. I went to get my own test report. Nothing serious. The doctor prescribed some medicine and let me go. I walked out of the clinic. The weather, which had cleared up earlier, was dark again, snow falling. Strange. I tightened my coat, put my bag over my head, and hailed a taxi. No one was waiting for me. No one would come for me. That night, I dreamed of the girl surrounded by her family in the hospital. I woke up to darkness. I thought I might be going crazy. For a moment, I envied the girl with the terminal illness. Dawn broke, and Julian called. “I’m downstairs.” It took me a moment to remember. We rescheduled the divorce for today. 4 The snow was still falling. When I opened the car door, I saw someone in the passenger seat. Emily turned to look at me, apologetic. Her eyes were gentle and beautiful. Julian started the car, explaining calmly, “Emily has a cough. I’m taking her to buy medicine on the way.” I looked out the window, silent. We were about to divorce; his affairs were none of my business. This time, the process was smooth. Divorce certificate in hand, we walked out. Julian took off his coat and wrapped it around Emily. He turned to me. “Emily needs medicine. It’s not on the way. Do you need me to drop you off first?” As if he would actually do it if I said yes. I shook my head. “No.” He immediately opened an umbrella, pulled Emily close, and walked into the snow. Seven years. He no longer had to maintain the facade of a harmonious marriage with me. He no longer had to sneak across the city at dawn just to see Emily for a moment. I watched them walk away until my phone rang for a long time, snapping me back to reality. I took a deep breath and answered. Maybe I was dazed, but I couldn’t understand the middle-aged man’s voice at first. “Late-stage left heart failure…” “Wrong report… our mistake…” “Ms. Reed, we are truly sorry. “This is the hospital’s error. We will take serious disciplinary action…” Finally, I understood. The report that drifted to my feet yesterday wasn’t for the other girl named Sarah Reed. It was mine. So, the person who was dying, who should have been crying in the corner, was me. A chill crept up my spine. I looked at the man walking away with Emily. Instinctively, I called out, “Julian.” Like a drowning person grasping for driftwood. Julian opened the passenger door for Emily. Hearing my voice, he turned back. On the phone, the doctor continued, “So, Ms. Reed, please come back to the hospital with your husband, just like yesterday.” I looked at Julian in the distance. Trudging through the snow, I hurried toward him. I knew Julian wouldn’t care. But for some reason, I walked to him. He looked gentle from afar, but up close, I saw the indifference in his eyes. My voice trembled. “Could you…” I couldn’t finish. He interrupted me. Julian frowned slightly. “Sarah, we’re divorced.”

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Late one night, as I stood in front of the mirror removing my makeup, my reflection started talking. I couldn’t hear it, but I could read its lips: Don’t use the red umbrella! I laughed. Red umbrella? I was too broke to own any umbrella. The next day, a torrential downpour trapped me at work. “Here, use mine.” My supervisor, Julian, handed me a red umbrella. 1 Julian was young, thirty, successful, and handsome—the golden bachelor of the office. But all I could focus on was the red umbrella in his hand and the terrifying memory of last night. As I was washing my face, my body suddenly froze. My head snapped up against my will, locking eyes with my reflection. The “me” in the mirror seemed alive, mouthing a silent message. Fear paralyzed me. I wanted to run, but I couldn’t move a muscle. I was forced to watch as my reflection repeated the warning: Don’t use a red umbrella when it rains. Once the message was delivered, my reflection returned to normal, and I regained control of my body. I didn’t even finish removing my makeup. I sprinted to my bedroom, buried myself under the covers, and eventually fell into a restless sleep. I had dismissed it as a hallucination until now. The red umbrella in front of me made my blood run cold. “What’s wrong? Is it not good enough for you?” Julian asked with a smile. “No, it’s just…” Before I could come up with an excuse, Bella, the office “pick-me” girl, rushed over and snatched the umbrella. “If Sarah doesn’t want it, I’ll take it! Julian is just being nice,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him. “Julian, maybe we can walk together? This umbrella is big enough for two.” Julian’s smile didn’t waver as he pulled another umbrella from his bag. “No need. I have another one.” He opened his umbrella and walked away. Disappointed, Bella grumbled and left with the red umbrella. I was left alone in the lobby. Desperate to get home, I braved the rain and ran to the nearest subway station. By the time I got home, I was soaked to the bone. “Should have just taken the umbrella,” I muttered, shivering as I changed. “The mirror thing was probably just stress. I’m losing it.” Suddenly, my phone buzzed violently. I checked the group chat with my coworkers. They were blowing it up. I scrolled to the top and froze. A news link: “Rainy Night Butcher Strikes Again in City Park!” The thumbnail was a blurred photo of a female body. Lying next to it was the red umbrella Julian had tried to give me. 2 I clicked the link frantically. The article was sparse on details, clearly rushed to break the news. I scrolled through the group chat, looking for more information. Mike, a coworker I was friendly with, mentioned something: “They found the body so fast because the killer called the police and the newspaper himself! By the time cops arrived, he was gone.” The conversation moved on, but I needed to know more. I messaged Mike privately. Me: Mike, is that news real? Mike: Which one? Me: The Rainy Night Butcher. Mike: Of course! You think I’d lie? Me: Do you know who the victim is? Mike: No idea. Just saw what was in the news. Dead end. I walked to the bathroom mirror, staring at my reflection. “Who are you?” I whispered. Silence. Just my own tired face staring back. I splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash away the fear. But the image of the red umbrella haunted me. The next morning at work, my worst fear was confirmed. The victim was Bella. Mike rushed to my desk. “Sarah! You won’t believe it. The victim was Bella! It was brutal. They said her tongue was cut out so she couldn’t scream, vocal cords destroyed… limbs chopped off… heart cut out…” I gagged, stomach churning. Was she killed because of a grudge, or because of the umbrella? I prayed it had nothing to do with me. The police came to interview everyone. I didn’t know Bella well, so I had little to offer. I kept my mouth shut about the mirror and the umbrella. I didn’t want to get involved. 3 Work was relentless, forcing everyone to move on from Bella’s death quickly. I kept an eye on Julian. He acted normal, as if he had no memory of the red umbrella. Even when I hinted at it, he looked confused. Maybe I really was hallucinating from stress. A week later, it happened again. I was at the sink, ready to wash up, when my body locked up. My head tilted up. My reflection stared back. But this time, the reflection was different. The “me” in the mirror had bruises on her face. Her right eye was swollen shut, purple and angry. Was this a glimpse of my future? She mouthed the words slowly: Tomorrow night. Do not. Go home before 10 PM. She repeated it twice. This warning was even more confusing. We were in the middle of a huge project. Everyone was working until 11 PM every night. Going home before 10 PM was impossible anyway. But the bruises… Once I regained control, I examined the mirror frantically. I tapped it, tried the fingernail test. Nothing. Just a cheap, ordinary mirror mounted on the wall. Exhausted, I gave up at 2 AM. I had to be up at 7. The next day, I dragged myself to work. Everyone was too busy to notice my dark circles. Around 5 PM, Julian clapped his hands for attention. “Listen up, everyone! Upper management is very happy with our progress. So, tonight, you all get a break. Go home, rest up. Tomorrow we push hard to finish, and the day after, we celebrate!” Cheers erupted around the office. It felt like getting out of school early. But I sat frozen in my chair. Does this mean I will go home before 10 PM? 4 Everyone rushed out, eager to start their free evening. Julian stopped by my desk. “Sarah, why aren’t you leaving? No need to stay late tonight. Go home.” “Right, right. Leaving now,” I stammered. “Be safe.” He left first. I sighed and walked out of the building. Seeing everyone else so happy made me bitter. If not for the mirror’s warning, I’d be rushing home to order takeout and binge-watch shows. Now, that simple joy was a death sentence. I wandered the streets aimlessly. I had no one to hang out with. My contact list was full of colleagues and clients, not friends. Loneliness washed over me. Part of me wanted to rebel. What if I just went home? Would I really die? Maybe if I locked the doors and windows… But the image of my bruised face in the mirror stopped me. I ended up in a park near my apartment complex, eating a sandwich and watching elderly people dance. Bored, I pulled out my phone to watch a show using the public Wi-Fi. Suddenly, my phone vibrated and shut down. Dead battery. “Are you kidding me?” I groaned. I looked at my building. It was an old, run-down walk-up. Most units were dark. My floor was completely black. “If only I could go charge it… Wait, what time is it?” I asked an old man nearby. “Sir, what time is it?” “Huh? No thanks, I ate already.” “THE TIME!” “Oh, my son? He’s studying abroad.” “Never mind.” I went to a convenience store. The clock on the wall read 10:03 PM. Relief washed over me. I hurried toward my building. Little did I know, the moment I left, the store owner took the clock down, muttering, “Why is this thing running fast again?”

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The male lead finally ended up with his first love, the “white moonlight,” while my mom’s body was barely cold in her grave. Upon hearing of my mother’s death, the vicious villain swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, slashed his wrist, and calmly lay down in a bathtub. Just as he was silently feeling his life slip away, I, carrying my little backpack, knocked on his door. “Daddy, I finally found you!” 1 Julian Thorne’s face was deathly pale, and he was alarmingly thin. He stared at me, brows furrowing. “Whose kid are you?” I blinked. “My name is Kiki. My mom is Seraphina. Are you Mr. Julian Thorne?” Julian raised an eyebrow. “I am.” My eyes turned red, and I rushed into his arms, sobbing. “Daddy, I finally found you!” Julian’s mouth twitched. It took him several attempts to pry me off. “Sorry, I don’t know you, and I certainly don’t know your mother.” His shirt was already soaked with my tears. He glanced at it with disdain. I pouted, heartbroken. “Daddy, why don’t you want to acknowledge me?” Julian: “…” He shut the door. “Go home. I don’t have time to play games.” Two minutes later, I rang the doorbell again. Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong! When Julian opened the door again, he was dripping wet. His wrist was hastily bandaged, and he looked terrible. Seeing it was me again, he snapped, “What now?” I stood on my tiptoes, peering inside, twisting my fingers nervously. “Daddy, can I come in and eat something? I’m so hungry.” Julian gritted his teeth. “…How many times do I have to say it? I am not your father.” I looked innocent. “But Mom said you are.” “I don’t know your mom.” “Then how did she have me with you?” Julian closed his eyes, turning back into the house. Just as I was about to follow, he grabbed some bread and milk from the fridge, shoved them into my arms, and said ominously, “Don’t let me hear you ring that bell again.” Slam! The door shut. I stood there blankly for a while. Sitting on the porch steps, I looked at the bread in my hand and slowly stuffed it into my mouth. It was dry, so I gulped down some milk. The wind was chilly, making me shrink into my collar. So cold. And I needed to pee. Helpless, I stood before the door again. He said not to ring the bell, so I knocked. Knock, knock, knock! Knock, knock, knock! I knocked for so long that the neighbor across the street peeked out. Julian couldn’t take it anymore and opened the door. I sneezed, eyes watery. “Daddy, I’m sorry, but I can’t hold it. I need to pee.” The beautiful neighbor lady came out, covering her mouth in surprise. “Mr. Thorne, is this your daughter? I’ve never seen her before.” Julian’s face went completely black. Seeing me shivering in the cold wind, he took a deep breath and stepped aside. “Come in.” 2 Before I entered the bathroom, Julian said, “Wait.” He closed the door, and I heard the bathtub draining. “Okay, go ahead.” After I finished, I noticed faint bloodstains on the edge of the tub and a knife on the floor. When I came out, I was worried. “Daddy, are you hurt?” Julian’s lips tightened. “No.” “That’s good.” I sighed in relief and cheered up. “Daddy, your house is huge.” “As big and pretty as Daddy Liam’s house.” “Mom said you were amazing, even more amazing than Daddy Liam. She didn’t lie.” Julian asked, “You have another dad?” I nodded. “Mom was with Daddy Liam, but he was mean to her. After Mom got sick and died, he married another lady.” “Your mom passed away?” “Mm-hm.” Mentioning Mom, I wiped my eyes sadly. Julian frowned. “What’s your Daddy Liam’s name?” “Liam Carter.” He froze. “And your mom?” “Seraphina.” “Do you have a photo?” Right! I pulled Mom’s only photo from my backpack and handed it to him. Julian stared at the photo, his gaze sharpening instantly. His expression was complex, as if lost in memories. Though he tried to suppress his emotions, his hand holding the frame trembled slightly. After a long while, he curled his lip, tone mocking. “Your mom is Seraphina Vance?” Mom once said her real name was Seraphina. Seraphina Vance was the name she got after coming to this world. Only Daddy and I knew this. But it seemed Daddy didn’t know yet. So I nodded. “Yes.” Julian squatted down, scanning my face, as if looking for traces of himself. “How old… are you?” His voice was hoarse. I answered softly, “Six.” The hope in his eyes vanished instantly. He stood up, voice self-mocking. “It wasn’t enough for her to lie to me; she sent you to lie to me too?” 3 What is Daddy saying? I was stunned. “I didn’t…” Julian slammed the photo frame onto the table, his tone cold again. “Go back to the Carter family. You can’t be my child, and I’m not your father.” “But Mom said you are my father.” “Impossible.” He closed his eyes. “I broke up with your mother eight years ago. You’re only six. You can only be Liam Carter’s daughter.” I counted on my fingers for a long time and realized he seemed right. Am I really Liam Carter’s daughter? But Mom wouldn’t lie to me. There must be a misunderstanding! “Daddy, we can do a DNA test! I really am your daughter!” I plucked a hair from my head, wincing, and looked at him with expectation and nervousness. Julian looked at me, brows furrowed. “Achoo!” I sneezed again. Julian looked at the dark night outside, then at thin, frail me. “You can stay, but only for tonight. “Tomorrow, I’ll have the police take you home.” Yay! Daddy isn’t chasing me away. Julian went upstairs to prepare a room for me. I trotted behind him. “Daddy, what kind of person was Mom to you?” Julian sneered. “Heartless, greedy, lustful, fake.” Four words, I only understood the middle two. “Daddy, was Mom a pervert?” “…Kids shouldn’t ask so much.” I slowed down, feeling sad. I knew since I was little that Mom was the “vicious female antagonist.” Because she was the villainess, no one liked her. Mom said in her original world, her name was Seraphina, and she had brain cancer. Before she died, a System approached her, asking if she wanted to transmigrate into a book as the villainess. If she successfully made the male lead fall in love with her, she would get a healthy body. Mom agreed. She became Seraphina Vance. The lost true heiress of the Vance family, and Liam Carter’s real fiancée. Claire Vance was her sister, the “group favorite” heroine of this story. Raised with love, the parents couldn’t bear to send Claire back to poverty, so she stayed. Mom didn’t know what she did wrong. But if Claire was unhappy, it was Mom’s fault. Everyone looked at her with condemnation and disdain. Though related by blood, Mom was thin, unpolished, lacking the grace of a wealthy lady. Her parents favored the heroine. Liam Carter hated Mom too. After reuniting with the Vance family, it seemed only Grandpa truly welcomed her. Mom was an orphan in her original world and craved family love. Whether it was her adoptive parents before or the Vance parents now, she cherished them all. Even though she tried her best to please everyone, the plot’s force was immovable. Mom had no choice. If she didn’t win Liam over, she would die. Later, the Carter Corporation faced a financial crisis. Liam chose to break up with Claire then. Claire cried and went abroad to heal under the protection of the devoted second male lead. At that time, Mom’s company, ClearSky Tech, was booming, nearing Series B funding, but she sold it cheaply. She used that money and Grandpa’s inheritance to buy the position of Liam’s wife. Although Liam was forced to marry her, his heart remained with Claire. He partied every night, indulging in women who resembled Claire. But the one who looked most like her was Mom. Liam often kissed Mom with malice, calling out Claire’s name. He even brought women home to their marital bed. It seemed only by seeing Mom suffer could his hatred find an outlet. Even when I was born, he never cared. Mom’s reaction to this was: “Let whoever wants the rotten cucumber have it.” Although I didn’t understand, I admired Mom’s attitude. On my sixth birthday, the System announced time was up. The male lead still didn’t love Mom. Mission failed. The punishment was erasure. Simultaneously, the hospital results came back: terminal brain cancer. The System gave Mom three days. I still remember Mom’s expression: confusion, loss, pain. And the deep sorrow and reluctance when she looked at me. She didn’t beg Liam anymore. She decided to find Daddy. She asked to meet Daddy many times, but he refused. Her messages sank into the ocean without a ripple. On the last day. She waited downstairs at his company building for a long time, until the light faded inch by inch, and her life came to an end. He never showed up. 3 “Mom wasn’t that kind of woman.” I clenched my fists, looking seriously at Julian’s face. “Mom loved Daddy very much. Mom never forgot Daddy.” Julian paused, his smile growing more mocking. “Did she teach you to say that?” I shook my head. “No…” “No one knows Seraphina Vance better than I do.” His expression was almost cold. “Except for Liam Carter, she never truly loved anyone.” My face turned red holding it in. I couldn’t say Mom was a “strategy player” who was with Daddy Liam just to survive. How could I make Daddy believe Mom truly loved him? With a heavy heart, I climbed into bed. Julian tucked me in. “I’m right next door. Knock if you need anything, okay?” “Okay.” Blood was seeping through the bandage on his wrist. The wound hadn’t healed. Is Daddy hurt? I worried. Ten minutes later, I stood at the master bedroom door. Knock, knock, knock. Julian opened the door, eyes red, face tense. “What is it?” “Daddy, can I sleep with you?” “No.” I clasped my hands together, pleading. “Please, you know I left my mom since I was little…” “…Come in.” He made a pallet on the floor, letting me sleep in the bed alone. To prevent me from falling, he left a nightlight on. “Daddy, aren’t you sleeping with me?” “Girls grow up and avoid their fathers.” I sat up in surprise. “You admit you’re my dad?” Julian closed his eyes, not looking at me. “Strange men are even more forbidden.” I lay back down disappointed, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw a photo frame face down on the nightstand. It was Mom’s photo. “Daddy, you miss Mom too, don’t you?” Julian paused, answering stiffly. “…No.” Really? Then why, after Mom died, did you lose all will to live? 4 The next morning after breakfast, Julian wanted to take me to the police station. I hugged his leg, wailing. “Daddy, I don’t want to go! I can’t leave Daddy…” The beautiful neighbor lady happened to come out. Seeing this, she ran over, hugging me distressedly. “What’s wrong, baby? What happened?” I cried breathlessly. “Da… Daddy wants to send… me to the police station…” The neighbor lady was indignant. “Mr. Thorne, you can’t scare a child like that. It’ll cause trauma.” “Daddy, Daddy…” Seeing me convulsing with sobs, the neighbor lady held me, patting my back. “Don’t cry, baby. Auntie is here. I won’t let your dad send you away.” Julian: “…” He tried to explain. “Mr. Thorne, your daughter looks so much like you.” The neighbor lady pinched my cheek, sighing. “Eyes and nose are identical. No wonder she’s so pretty, inheriting the best traits from both parents?” Julian frowned. He looked at me, a moment of daze in his eyes. He didn’t make me leave. Through the slightly open study door, I heard him talking to a friend. “Greg, I need you to do a paternity test for me.” “Huh? Since when do you have a kid? Who gave birth to it?” “Seraphina Vance.” “Eh? Her?” The friend sighed. “How did you get tangled up with her again? She turned her back on you so fast back then, used you and tossed you, and now a kid pops up?” “Is hair with follicles okay?” “Yes, but Julian, don’t get your hopes up. Seraphina has been married for seven or eight years, her kid is probably big now. She was so devoted to Liam Carter, why would she have your kid?” “Seraphina is dead.” “What? Dead?” The other side sounded shocked, silent for a long time before speaking. “Okay, send the sample over. I’ll expedite it. Results in six hours max.” When Julian came out of the study, the neighbor lady was feeding me cherry tomatoes. I shook my head. “Sorry Auntie, I can’t eat tomatoes. I get itchy all over and get bumps.” “Is that so?” She looked regretful. Seeing Julian, she smiled. “Mr. Thorne, want to try? My mom picked them from our garden this morning, very fresh.” Julian looked complicated. “I’m allergic to tomatoes too.” He squatted in front of me, touching my face, eyes unreadable. “Are you… really my daughter?”

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My mother was obsessed with competing with me. When my grandmother gave me a jade bangle, my mother’s eyes turned red with envy. She snatched it from me, snarling, “A worthless girl like you doesn’t deserve such a fine thing!” When my boyfriend sent me a bouquet for Valentine’s Day, she gritted her teeth in rage, then feigned nonchalance. “He only likes you because you’re my daughter. If I were a few years younger, do you think he’d even look at you?” Later, she actually climbed into my boyfriend’s bed, naked. When she was caught, she begged us not to tell my father. Soft-hearted, I agreed. But during a family trip to a scenic mountain, she pushed me off a cliff… Before I died, I saw her face twisted in a euphoric grin. “Everything you have is only because you’re my daughter! Why should you have a better life than me? I should never have given birth to you!” When I opened my eyes again, it was the summer after my high school graduation. Mom, this time, I won’t be silent. I’ll be the loudspeaker broadcasting your “victories” in this twisted competition. 1 When I was seven, I admired a matching mother-daughter outfit in a shop window. I tugged at my mother’s skirt to show her. She looked at me with disgust. “Are you just trying to outshine me so your dad will praise you?” At fourteen, while Dad was away on business, I cooked a huge meal for her while she was out shopping, hoping for a smile or a compliment. Instead, she flipped the table in a rage, screaming, “You wasteful brat! I worked so hard to raise you, I quit my job for you! What’s the point of cooking all this? Who are you trying to impress?!” I thought I would wake up eventually. I thought I would stop craving her warmth. At eighteen, I got into college. My grandparents gave me an exquisite jade bangle. She made snide remarks and threw fits until I offered it to her with both hands. Only when it was on her wrist did she calm down. Later, in college, I found a boyfriend who genuinely loved me. When I excitedly shared my happiness with my family, she tried on my clothes in my room behind my father’s back. Posing in front of the mirror, she scoffed, “If I were a few years younger, do you think he’d ever look at you?” In the end, she crawled naked into my boyfriend’s bed. When he fled screaming in terror, she cried and begged me not to tell my dad. I softened again. The price of my soft heart was my life ending in a nameless valley. 2 The moment I opened my eyes, I still felt the dull pain of the rocks against the back of my head, and the shock and resentment filling my chest. When I came to my senses, I found myself squatting in the bathroom, staring at a basin full of socks so dirty they were black. It was the summer after my high school graduation. My dad, wearing a tank top and carrying a bowl of fruit to wash, passed by the bathroom. He poked his head in and grinned at me, eyes full of relief. “Looks like our Lily has grown up. Not a lazy girl anymore.” Before I could speak, my mom, like a bloodhound tracking her prey, appeared. She wore tight jeans and pink slippers, even her toenails studded with rhinestones. Holding a tub of Häagen-Dazs she just took from the fridge, she looked me up and down and let out a disdainful “Tch.” “Not lazy? If she wasn’t lazy, would she save up so many dirty socks before washing them?” Dad looked awkward, wanting to speak but stopping himself. As if smelling something foul, Mom covered her nose in disgust, taking a big step back and pulling Dad with her. “Lily, how long have you been wearing these? Your feet stink! You didn’t inherit a single good trait from me. Dark and skinny is bad enough, but a girl with foot odor?” I stood up, wiped my hands on a towel, and grinned at my parents. “Mom, you forgot. You told me to throw away your dirty socks.” “So you went into my room, took my clean socks, wore them until they were dirty, and stuffed them back in my drawer?” “I can’t just let them sit there dirty, so I’m washing them.” The air filled with a terrifying silence. Mom’s face turned green with rage, her hand hovering over her nose, unsure whether to keep covering it or drop it. I ignored them, walked past, and went straight to my room, locking the door. Half an hour later, I received a text from Dad: “Lily, you shouldn’t be so blunt. It hurts people. She’s your mother after all. She’s been crying on the sofa for half an hour. Come out and apologize.” I sneered and closed the chat. She is my mother, but if she truly treated me like a daughter, she wouldn’t have pushed me off a cliff in my past life. As for her crying, real or fake, it wasn’t because my words hurt her heart. It was because the perfect image she meticulously built in front of her husband had been torn open, exposing the truth. She was humiliated. 3 My dad was an only child. My grandparents were retired teachers who lived in the same apartment complex. To celebrate my acceptance into the city’s Normal University, the old couple prepared a big feast at their home and invited our whole family. On the way downstairs, Mom wore sunglasses and refused to talk to me, probably because I exposed her sock secret the other day. But she hummed a tune, seemingly in a good mood. When a familiar neighbor asked why she was so happy, she took off her sunglasses and acted coy. “Oh, my daughter isn’t very capable. She only got into the local Normal U. Her grandparents wouldn’t even book a hotel for her graduation party.” “It’s all because she didn’t try hard enough. Back when Frank and I got married, we had the best hotel in the city, the best dress, the best jewelry…” “What’s the use of my in-laws valuing me? She’s just disappointing. In the old days, they’d call her a money-loser.” Reaching the part she enjoyed, Mom covered her mouth and giggled, trembling with laughter. I couldn’t be bothered to respond. Her breakdown was coming later. Arriving at the other building, Grandma was already waiting downstairs with a beaming smile. Seeing me, she pulled me into a hug, patting my shoulder. “Our Lily is so capable! City Normal U, that’s wonderful!” She led me upstairs, arm around my shoulder, seemingly forgetting there was another person behind us. Entering the apartment, I realized it wasn’t just my grandparents. The living room was full of men and women, surrounding Grandpa. They were all well-dressed and successful-looking. Following Grandma inside, people stood up one by one, greeting me with smiles and handing me gifts. I thanked them under Grandma’s guidance and chatted, realizing these were all former students of my grandparents, invited to celebrate my success. When Mom walked in and saw so many people, she froze. Seeing the pile of gifts in my arms, the familiar hateful glint returned to her eyes. I knew that look too well. Learning she was my mother, the guests exchanged polite pleasantries, but their distance was obvious. Mom didn’t seem to sense the awkward atmosphere. She sat herself down carelessly and started chatting intimately with those around her. The topic was invariably me. How she never expected a daughter who was last in her class in middle school to get into college. How I, a wasteful and argumentative daughter at home, acted so obedient outside. I saw the guests’ faces turn uncomfortable; some couldn’t even keep up with her conversation. Suddenly, Mom said quietly, “Lily, are your scores even real?” Silence fell over the room. Questioning her own daughter’s academic integrity at her graduation party—she was definitely the first. Grandpa cleared his throat, interrupting her. “It’s getting late. Everyone, please take a seat.” Mom was silenced. She wanted to sit next to me, but Grandma said coldly, “Lily sits between me and the old man today. Frank’s wife, you don’t have a problem with that, do you?” She wouldn’t dare. If Grandma farted, she’d rush to smell it and call it perfume. The atmosphere at the table improved. Everyone but Mom wore smiles, encouraging me to broaden my horizons in college. At 7:30, Dad rushed back. Shortly after he sat down, Grandma brought out an exquisite box from the inner room. She opened it in front of everyone. Inside lay a beautiful jade bangle, translucent and smooth. Tears welled up in the old couple’s eyes. “Lily is going to college. Grandma and Grandpa prepared a gift too. This is for you. May your life be smooth and safe.” Grandma took my hand, ready to slide the bangle onto my wrist. That was when the accident happened. Mom suddenly rushed over, eyes red, and snatched the bangle from Grandma’s hand. Her voice was shrill: “Mom! She’s just a worthless girl! Why give her such an expensive gift?!” The room erupted in shock. Dad reacted first. His face darkened. He patted Mom’s shoulder, whispering her name, signaling her to behave. Mom shook off Dad’s hand, shouting, “Did I say anything wrong, Frank? I carried on the family line for the Zhangs! Even if I only gave birth to this money-loser, I still contributed!” “Are you just going to let your parents trample my face into the ground?!” The guests looked at each other, hesitant to speak, silence reigning. In my past life, under such a grand display of madness from my mother, I would have buried my head in the sand, apologizing in a mosquito’s voice while tugging at her clothes. My grandparents, seeing me like that, couldn’t support me even if they wanted to. They could only sigh. And after getting home, I would have offered this precious gift to her with both hands just to make her stop. My thoughts returned. Dad frowned, looking at me pleadingly, as if hoping I would step up to smooth things over. I feigned helplessness and grabbed Grandma’s hand. I said, “Mom, you melted down all the silver bracelets, necklaces, and earrings Grandma gave me for seventeen years to make new jewelry for yourself. But can you please not take this bangle? I really like it…” “This is a graduation gift from Grandma and Grandpa. It means something different…” My voice trailed off at the end, sounding unsure. A crazy mom, a passive dad, and a broken me. Anyone with eyes could see the truth. Smash! A loud crash beside me made Mom jump, her lips trembling uncontrollably. Grandpa had smashed a bowl. Shards flew everywhere. I trembled too, feeling a gentle squeeze on my hand. Meeting Grandma’s reassuring gaze, warmth rose in my heart. “Lily, you said your mother took all the silver jewelry we gave you for seventeen years and melted it down for herself?” Grandpa’s face was grim. I nodded timidly, hesitating. “Mom said I have dark skin, so wearing those things looked dark and tacky, so she took them…” Whispers broke out among the guests. Seeing the commotion, Mom shrieked: “Dad, how can you listen to a child’s nonsense? How could I take her things? I’m saving them for her…” “Kids shouldn’t be so flashy.” Seeing Mom’s stiff smile, Grandma scoffed. “In that case, go home right now and bring back everything we gave Lily.” At this point, Mom seemed to lose the ability to argue, but she refused to give up. The guests, sensing the family drama, politely made excuses to leave. When most people were gone, Mom ignored Dad’s warning looks and continued to be stubborn. “Mom, Dad, I’ve been married into the Zhang family for so many years, raised Lily this big. She’s just a child. Aren’t her things mine?” 4 Hearing this, I sneered internally. Yes, just because you gave birth to me. My things must be yours. My achievements are all thanks to you. I should live in your shadow. You whisper in my ear under the guise of love, magnifying my flaws to highlight your superiority. But Mom, I should be your daughter, not your competitor. Dad, the invisible man, looked bad too. In our small family, he was the head, indulging his wife’s tantrums and forcing me to compromise as a father. But here, he was the son. In this atmosphere, he wished he were the grandson. Grandma’s gaze was cool but disappointed. “I don’t care what you did before, but this is a gift from us to our granddaughter.” “A thief in the family is still a thief.” “If I ever see anything belonging to Lily on you again, you don’t need to step through this door.” Mom’s face turned green then red. She grabbed her sunglasses, stomped her foot in rage, huffed, and left unwillingly. Youth is priceless; confronting Mom is priceless-er. Since my rebirth, I’ve confronted my mom twice, exposing a small part of her true nature to my dad and grandparents. She treated me like air these days, pretending I didn’t exist. Dad sighed constantly, hinting I should apologize. Hilarious. Who complains about too much peace? Living comfortably, I made it to the start of college. College life was rich, and so was my mom’s social media. I often heard my roommate, who scrolled videos late at night, complaining: “Check the video I tagged you in. Is this lady crazy? She posted a photo of her daughter’s back with photoshopped white hair, and a filtered-to-death selfie of herself, asking netizens to guess who is the mom and who is the daughter?” I clicked the tag. As expected, the video featured me and my mom. Luckily, my face wasn’t visible. I sighed in relief. Not completely humiliated. My roommate on the bottom bunk had a sharp tongue. She typed furiously. A moment later, I saw her comment: “The daughter with the photoshopped white hair is the mom, and the auntie with the heavy filter is the daughter.” Reading her comment, we all burst into laughter. Two months into the semester, I was studying in the library with my roommates. Suddenly, a note was slid in front of me. Following the slender hand, I saw a familiar face—my boyfriend from my past life. I smiled, accepted the note, and added his contact info under my roommates’ teasing gazes. Just then, a message from Dad popped up on WeChat. “Lily, you and Mom have been in a cold war for so long. She can’t bring herself to apologize, but she misses you dearly. When will you come back to visit?” I thought for a moment and typed: “Next month.” A month is enough to do many things, like fall in love. Mom misses me? Thinking about those words gave me chills from head to toe. My roommate nudged me, showing me her phone. It was another video from Mom. Maybe she got roasted too hard on the last one, so she launched a “loving mother” persona. Same video, new caption: “Mommy’s little jacket, I miss you so much. Don’t stay away just because of a few words.” A sensible netizen commented: “The auntie who looks like a daughter doesn’t seem to have a good relationship with the daughter who looks like a mom.” Mom replied instantly: “My daughter is coming back to see me next month.” So that’s why she wanted me back so urgently. Ignoring me for months was fine, but now she “missed me dearly.” Her “pampered wife” persona wasn’t enough; she needed a doting daughter too. But this time, she wouldn’t get what she wanted.

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My mother was the “vicious female antagonist” everyone despised. Three months after her death, the male lead finally married his “white moonlight,” his true love. Everyone praised their shining love story, but no one cared that my mother’s body was barely cold in her grave. Upon hearing the news, the villain swallowed half a bottle of sleeping pills, slashed his wrist, and lay quietly in a bathtub. As his body slowly turned cold. I, carrying my little backpack, knocked on his door and asked in a milky voice, “Uncle, hello. Are you my daddy?” 1 Julian Thorne’s face was deathly pale, and he was alarmingly thin. He stared at me, brows furrowing. “Whose kid are you?” I blinked. “My name is Kiki. My mom is Seraphina. Are you Mr. Julian Thorne?” Julian raised an eyebrow. “I am.” My eyes turned red, and I rushed into his arms, sobbing. “Daddy, I finally found you!” Julian’s mouth twitched. It took him several attempts to pry me off. “Sorry, I don’t know you, and I certainly don’t know your mother.” His shirt was already soaked with my tears. He glanced at it with disdain. I pouted, heartbroken. “Daddy, why don’t you want to acknowledge me?” Julian: “…” He shut the door. “Go home. I don’t have time to play games.” Two minutes later, I rang the doorbell again. Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong! When Julian opened the door again, he was dripping wet. His wrist was hastily bandaged, and he looked terrible. Seeing it was me again, he snapped, “What now?” I stood on my tiptoes, peering inside, twisting my fingers nervously. “Daddy, can I come in and eat something? I’m so hungry.” Julian gritted his teeth. “…How many times do I have to say it? I am not your father.” I looked innocent. “But Mom said you are.” He… “I don’t know your mom.” “Then how did she have me with you?” Julian closed his eyes, turning back into the house. Just as I was about to follow, he grabbed some bread and milk from the fridge, shoved them into my arms, and said ominously, “Don’t let me hear you ring that bell again.” Slam! The door shut. I stood there blankly for a while. Sitting on the porch steps, I looked at the bread in my hand and slowly stuffed it into my mouth. It was dry, so I gulped down some milk. The wind was chilly, making me shrink into my collar. So cold. And I needed to pee. Helpless, I stood before the door again. He said not to ring the bell, so I knocked. Knock, knock, knock! Knock, knock, knock! I knocked for so long that the neighbor across the street peeked out. Julian couldn’t take it anymore and opened the door. I sneezed, eyes watery. “Daddy, I’m sorry, but I can’t hold it. I need to pee.” The beautiful neighbor lady came out, covering her mouth in surprise. “Mr. Thorne, is this your daughter? I’ve never seen her before.” Julian’s face went completely black. Seeing me shivering in the cold wind, he took a deep breath and stepped aside. “Come in.” 2 Before I entered the bathroom, Julian said, “Wait.” He closed the door, and I heard the bathtub draining. “Okay, go ahead.” After I finished, I noticed faint bloodstains on the edge of the tub and a knife on the floor. When I came out, I was worried. “Daddy, are you hurt?” Julian’s lips tightened. “No.” “That’s good.” I sighed in relief and cheered up. “Daddy, your house is huge.” “As big and pretty as Daddy Liam’s house.” “Mom said you were amazing, even more amazing than Daddy Liam. She didn’t lie.” Julian asked, “You have another dad?” I nodded. “Mom was with Daddy Liam, but he was mean to her. After Mom got sick and died, he married another lady.” “Your mom passed away?” “Mm-hm.” Mentioning Mom, I wiped my eyes sadly. Julian frowned. “What’s your Daddy Liam’s name?” “Liam Carter.” He froze. “And your mom?” “Seraphina.” “Do you have a photo?” Right! I pulled Mom’s only photo from my backpack and handed it to him. Julian stared at the photo, his gaze sharpening instantly. His expression was complex, as if lost in memories. Though he tried to suppress his emotions, his hand holding the frame trembled slightly. After a long while, he curled his lip, tone mocking. “Your mom is Seraphina Vance?” Mom once said her real name was Seraphina. Seraphina Vance was the name she got after coming to this world. Only Daddy and I knew this. But it seemed Daddy didn’t know yet. So I nodded. “Yes.” Julian squatted down, scanning my face, as if looking for traces of himself. “How old… are you?” His voice was hoarse. I answered softly, “Six.” The hope in his eyes vanished instantly. He stood up, voice self-mocking. “It wasn’t enough for her to lie to me; she sent you to lie to me too?” 3 What is Daddy saying? I was stunned. “I didn’t…” Julian slammed the photo frame onto the table, his tone cold again. “Go back to the Carter family. You can’t be my child, and I’m not your father.” “But Mom said you are my father.” “Impossible.” He closed his eyes. “I broke up with your mother eight years ago. You’re only six. You can only be Liam Carter’s daughter.” I counted on my fingers for a long time and realized he seemed right. Am I really Liam Carter’s daughter? But Mom wouldn’t lie to me. There must be a misunderstanding! “Daddy, we can do a DNA test! I really am your daughter!” I plucked a hair from my head, wincing, and looked at him with expectation and nervousness. Julian looked at me, brows furrowed. “Achoo!” I sneezed again. Julian looked at the dark night outside, then at thin, frail me. “You can stay, but only for tonight. “Tomorrow, I’ll have the police take you home.” Yay! Daddy isn’t chasing me away. Julian went upstairs to prepare a room for me. I trotted behind him. “Daddy, what kind of person was Mom to you?” Julian sneered. “Heartless, greedy, lustful, fake.” Four words, I only understood the middle two. “Daddy, was Mom a pervert?” “…Kids shouldn’t ask so much.” I slowed down, feeling sad. I knew since I was little that Mom was the “vicious female antagonist.” Because she was the villainess, no one liked her. Mom said in her original world, her name was Seraphina, and she had brain cancer. Before she died, a System approached her, asking if she wanted to transmigrate into a book as the villainess. If she successfully made the male lead fall in love with her, she would get a healthy body. Mom agreed. She became Seraphina Vance. The lost true heiress of the Vance family, and Liam Carter’s real fiancée. Claire Vance was her sister, the “group favorite” heroine of this story. Raised with love, the parents couldn’t bear to send Claire back to poverty, so she stayed. Mom didn’t know what she did wrong. But if Claire was unhappy, it was Mom’s fault. Everyone looked at her with condemnation and disdain. Though related by blood, Mom was thin, unpolished, lacking the grace of a wealthy lady. Her parents favored the heroine. Liam Carter hated Mom too. After reuniting with the Vance family, it seemed only Grandpa truly welcomed her. Mom was an orphan in her original world and craved family love. Whether it was her adoptive parents before or the Vance parents now, she cherished them all. Even though she tried her best to please everyone, the plot’s force was immovable. Mom had no choice. If she didn’t win Liam over, she would die. Later, the Carter Corporation faced a financial crisis. Liam chose to break up with Claire then. Claire cried and went abroad to heal under the protection of the devoted second male lead. At that time, Mom’s company, ClearSky Tech, was booming, nearing Series B funding, but she sold it cheaply. She used that money and Grandpa’s inheritance to buy the position of Liam’s wife. Although Liam was forced to marry her, his heart remained with Claire. He partied every night, indulging in women who resembled Claire. But the one who looked most like her was Mom. Liam often kissed Mom with malice, calling out Claire’s name. He even brought women home to their marital bed. It seemed only by seeing Mom suffer could his hatred find an outlet. Even when I was born, he never cared. Mom’s reaction to this was: “Let whoever wants the rotten cucumber have it.” Although I didn’t understand, I admired Mom’s attitude. On my sixth birthday, the System announced time was up. The male lead still didn’t love Mom. Mission failed. The punishment was erasure. Simultaneously, the hospital results came back: terminal brain cancer. The System gave Mom three days. I still remember Mom’s expression: confusion, loss, pain. And the deep sorrow and reluctance when she looked at me. She didn’t beg Liam anymore. She decided to find Daddy. She asked to meet Daddy many times, but he refused. Her messages sank into the ocean without a ripple. On the last day. She waited downstairs at his company building for a long time, until the light faded inch by inch, and her life came to an end. He never showed up. 3 “Mom wasn’t that kind of woman.” I clenched my fists, looking seriously at Julian’s face. “Mom loved Daddy very much. Mom never forgot Daddy.” Julian paused, his smile growing more mocking. “Did she teach you to say that?” I shook my head. “No…” “No one knows Seraphina Vance better than I do.” His expression was almost cold. “Except for Liam Carter, she never truly loved anyone.” My face turned red holding it in. I couldn’t say Mom was a “strategy player” who was with Daddy Liam just to survive. How could I make Daddy believe Mom truly loved him? With a heavy heart, I climbed into bed. Julian tucked me in. “I’m right next door. Knock if you need anything, okay?” “Okay.” Blood was seeping through the bandage on his wrist. The wound hadn’t healed. Is Daddy hurt? I worried. Ten minutes later, I stood at the master bedroom door. Knock, knock, knock. Julian opened the door, eyes red, face tense. “What is it?” “Daddy, can I sleep with you?” “No.” I clasped my hands together, pleading. “Please, you know I left my mom since I was little…” “…Come in.” He made a pallet on the floor, letting me sleep in the bed alone. To prevent me from falling, he left a nightlight on. “Daddy, aren’t you sleeping with me?” “Girls grow up and avoid their fathers.” I sat up in surprise. “You admit you’re my dad?” Julian closed his eyes, not looking at me. “Strange men are even more forbidden.” I lay back down disappointed, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw a photo frame face down on the nightstand. It was Mom’s photo. “Daddy, you miss Mom too, don’t you?” Julian paused, answering stiffly. “…No.” Really? Then why, after Mom died, did you lose all will to live? 4 The next morning after breakfast, Julian wanted to take me to the police station. I hugged his leg, wailing. “Daddy, I don’t want to go! I can’t leave Daddy…” The beautiful neighbor lady happened to come out. Seeing this, she ran over, hugging me distressedly. “What’s wrong, baby? What happened?” I cried breathlessly. “Da… Daddy wants to send… me to the police station…” The neighbor lady was indignant. “Mr. Thorne, you can’t scare a child like that. It’ll cause trauma.” “Daddy, Daddy…” Seeing me convulsing with sobs, the neighbor lady held me, patting my back. “Don’t cry, baby. Auntie is here. I won’t let your dad send you away.” Julian: “…” He tried to explain. “Mr. Thorne, your daughter looks so much like you.” The neighbor lady pinched my cheek, sighing. “Eyes and nose are identical. No wonder she’s so pretty, inheriting the best traits from both parents?” Julian frowned. He looked at me, a moment of daze in his eyes. He didn’t make me leave. Through the slightly open study door, I heard him talking to a friend. “Greg, I need you to do a paternity test for me.” “Huh? Since when do you have a kid? Who gave birth to it?” “Seraphina Vance.” “Eh? Her?” The friend sighed. “How did you get tangled up with her again? She turned her back on you so fast back then, used you and tossed you, and now a kid pops up?” “Is hair with follicles okay?” “Yes, but Julian, don’t get your hopes up. Seraphina has been married for seven or eight years, her kid is probably big now. She was so devoted to Liam Carter, why would she have your kid?” “Seraphina is dead.” “What? Dead?” The other side sounded shocked, silent for a long time before speaking. “Okay, send the sample over. I’ll expedite it. Results in six hours max.” When Julian came out of the study, the neighbor lady was feeding me cherry tomatoes. I shook my head. “Sorry Auntie, I can’t eat tomatoes. I get itchy all over and get bumps.” “Is that so?” She looked regretful. Seeing Julian, she smiled. “Mr. Thorne, want to try? My mom picked them from our garden this morning, very fresh.” Julian looked complicated. “I’m allergic to tomatoes too.” He squatted in front of me, touching my face, eyes unreadable. “Are you… really my daughter?”

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I am a PhD from a top university, and the “white moonlight” obsession of a powerful heir who couldn’t have me. When Julian Thorne was at his lowest, battling depression, I used psychology to guide him out of the shadows. From then on, he fell madly in love with me. After reclaiming his status as the heir to the Thorne empire, he pursued me relentlessly. But my heart only had room for academia. Rejected and lovesick, Julian acquired my entire research team and brought us under his company’s umbrella. He visited my lab daily, begging for my love every few days. I never responded. Frustrated, Julian started searching for replacements who looked like me. He found one—a social media influencer who bore a passing resemblance. Thinking she was the future Mrs. Thorne, she defied Julian’s orders and snuck into the lab to see me. Her assistant fanned the flames: “I heard there’s a fake academic girl pestering our Prince, trying to seduce her way to the top. We have to tear her apart!” The replacement smashed my lab with a whip and used fine needles to destroy my hands, peeling my fingernails off one by one, bloody and raw. She presented them to Julian like a treasure. “Baby, there was a green tea bitch imitating me. I taught her a lesson for you!” 1 I was held hostage by Julian Thorne for three years using my research team. He treated me like a precious jewel. As long as I accepted his pursuit, he was willing to lay the wealth of the entire city at my feet. This included the most advanced academic resources. I admit, I was tempted. But in the end, I refused. I simply didn’t love him. Six years ago, Julian suffered severe depression due to family issues. He stood on the city bridge, ready to jump. I happened to be passing by, busy with my master’s thesis experiments. I saved him. Using my psychology knowledge, I guided him step by step out of the darkness. After recovering, Julian fell uncontrollably in love with me. His family arranged many matches with women of equal status, but he wouldn’t even look at them. He would lose millions on projects just to make me smile. But I was distressed. The 23rd time I rejected him, I reiterated my passion for academia. “Julian, stop wasting your time on me. I don’t plan on marrying. I want to dedicate my life to science.” A week later, Julian signed my entire research team, including my mentor, under the Thorne Group. He threatened me with the results of years of hard work by my mentor and me. “Nina, if you dare leave the team or run away from me, I’ll make sure all your and your mentor’s efforts come to nothing!” I couldn’t gamble with my mentor’s achievements. After years of research, a breakthrough was imminent. I had to yield and signed a five-year contract with the Thorne Group. One day, the whole team was on vacation. With nothing to do, I went to the lab to run some experiments. Suddenly, there was a commotion in the hallway. “Chloe, Mr. Thorne gave strict orders that no one is allowed near this team. Maybe there really are important secrets. Should we…” “What are you afraid of?! I’m Julian’s girlfriend. I saw him secretly ordering an engagement ring a couple of days ago. Soon I’ll be the young mistress of the Thorne family. It’s just a small lab, why can’t I enter?” “Besides, don’t forget my influencer persona is ‘Academic Beauty.’ How can I not visit the new lab Julian signed?” The woman’s arrogant voice drowned out the timid advice of the other. I frowned. A lab requires quiet; loud noises are prohibited. This woman, trespassing with her privilege, must be Julian’s new influencer replacement, Chloe. I sighed. I had told Julian the lab needed quiet and no unauthorized entry. But that simple sentence turned into his extreme possessiveness. Last month, a bird flew in by mistake. Seeing it on the surveillance camera, the twisted Julian had it plucked and boiled alive. Thinking of that scene still made me shudder. Just as I was about to take off my lab coat and go out to warn her kindly, the lab door was kicked open. 2 The flashy woman saw me, shock flashing across her face, followed by rage. “Where did this plastic surgery monster come from? Why do you look like me?” Her assistant fanned the flames: “I heard there’s a fake academic girl pestering our Prince, trying to seduce her way to the top. Today the lab is empty except for this scheming woman. She must be trying to copy your persona. We have to tear her apart!” Before I could react, a slap landed hard on my face. Chloe’s face twisted with anger. “You slut! Of all places to seduce men, you run to my husband’s lab! You really are scheming!” I realized she had misunderstood. Covering my face, I looked at her calmly. I wanted to fight back, but instinctively glanced at the surveillance camera overhead. “Forget it, I won’t argue with you. You shouldn’t be here. Leave quickly.” Half a month ago, a girl deliberately bumped into me and pushed me down. I thought it was minor, but Julian saw it on camera. That same day, he had her hands chopped off. That’s when I knew Julian’s methods of torture were unusually cruel. Even perverted. This girl seemed ignorant. I didn’t want trouble, so I urged her to leave. But hearing my words, Chloe sneered and became even more aggressive. “We’re both playing the game, stop pretending! Don’t think I don’t know. You want to take advantage of everyone’s absence, dress up as an academic beauty, and seduce Julian!” “Any woman who puts in effort knows the Prince doesn’t like glamorous women. He likes cold women in lab coats.” “I worked hard to build my academic streaming persona to get where I am today. In a few days, I’ll be Mrs. Thorne. I won’t let you make trouble under my nose!” Chloe grabbed my hair violently and threw me to the ground. She pulled a forearm-length whip from behind her back and lashed it viciously across my face. The whip had tiny barbs. Each strike brought not only searing pain but also thin trails of blood. “Don’t think plastic surgery to look like me will get you into Julian’s eyes. Today I’m going to ruin your face and tear your clothes. Let’s see if you dare pretend to be an academic beauty then!” 3 I couldn’t help but cry out in pain. Before the next lash could fall, I gritted my teeth and caught the barbed whip with my bare hand. My gaze was dark. “Before you hit me, did you investigate who I am?” The barbs dug into the flesh of my palm. Chloe yanked it deliberately. Sharp pain shot through me as my right palm blossomed with blood. Chloe looked arrogant, sneering with disdain. “I don’t care who you are. Just a fake academic green tea bitch putting on airs in the lab! Knowing Julian likes this type, you rushed here to throw yourself at him!” My tone deepened. “I am a PhD, not whatever ‘academic beauty’ you’re talking about.” As soon as I spoke, Chloe stomped on my face. Her high heel tip ground hard into my nose bridge. “You? A PhD?” “Don’t think I don’t know. You read those online guides and snuck in through a doggy door, wanting to play a more realistic game, right?” “Actually, I should learn from you. My style of pretending to do experiments on stream is outdated. Maybe I’ll copy you and do a lab play session. Julian will be obsessed with me!” Dust from her sole fell into my eyes, forcing me to close them. Since I saved Julian, he indeed developed a fetish. He liked watching me do academic work expressionlessly in my lab coat. I thought he would stop at a reasonable point, but he got worse, searching the whole city for replacements who looked like me. Not just in looks, but in the demeanor of doing experiments. Chloe had strategized for a long time to become the most famous influencer in the “academic beauty” niche, finally catching Julian’s eye. Now she mistook me for a competitor. How could she let me go? “Julian has been pursuing me…” I pointed with difficulty at the surveillance camera overhead. “If you don’t believe me… look up. Julian often watches me through the camera. If you don’t leave, you might never get the chance…” 4 Chloe laughed maniacally, not believing a word. “Do you think I grew up scared?” “Not just this lab, but the entire research center nearby will be mine in the future!” Her assistant chimed in. “Exactly! You scheming woman, look who’s in front of you! She’s the future young mistress of the Thorne Group!” “So many influencers waiting for the Prince to choose, and he picked our Chloe. What does that mean? True love!” I wanted to roll my eyes, but my face hurt too much. Seeing Chloe ordering her assistant to smash the lab to punish me, I panicked and struggled to get up. “No!” The lab contained my mentor’s life’s work. I couldn’t watch this woman destroy it! I lunged forward like a madwoman but was whipped to the ground by Chloe. “I knew you were a shameless schemer! If Julian really knew you, smashing a mere lab wouldn’t matter. You’re scared because you can’t explain the mess you made, right?” “I’m going to teach you a lesson today! Jenny, smash it!” The assistant named Jenny grabbed a tool and smashed the lab equipment to pieces. I protected my mentor’s research results with my body, refusing to let go no matter how they tried to snatch them. Chloe got interested. She threw down the whip. “Jenny, tie this academic bitch up!” “I want to see what treasure she’s protecting! Maybe it’s a secret guide to seducing men!” Battered and alone, I couldn’t fight two of them. Jenny looped the barbed whip around me and shoved me into a corner. Chloe flipped through the file casually. “I thought it was something precious. Just boring words. Must be props for your act.” Saying this, she tore the manuscript to shreds!

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Since I was young, I knew my sister was the heroine of a tragic romance novel. To protect her, I switched our fates. She went to the prestigious public school, while I entered the elite private academy as a scholarship student. She grew up to become a scientist in biopharmaceuticals. I, on the other hand, endured years of humiliation, suffered seven miscarriages, and held the hollow title of the Prince’s wife. When my sister found out, instead of gratitude, she returned to the male lead’s side as his “white moonlight”—his true love—and convinced him to drown me in a lake. Reborn, I found myself accidentally cast as the male lead’s “white moonlight” in this new life. Just as I thought I had mistakenly taken the heroine’s script, I realized my sister had been reborn too. So, how did she, the “white moonlight” heroine of the previous life, die? 1 Reborn back to age twelve, my parents looked troubled. “You’re the older sister. Why don’t you give the scholarship spot to Chloe?” In my past life, I cried and begged to go to the elite academy, forcing my parents to send Chloe to the public school. This time, I nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes! Let her go! I want to go to public school!” Actually, not just this once. At every juncture where Chloe was supposed to meet the male lead, Julian Thorne, I intervened. By avoiding him, Chloe’s academic and professional life soared. But no one understood my intentions. They said I was jealous, that Chloe’s success was all her own doing. My parents sighed in relief and whispered: “We must invest heavily in Chloe this time. She is the true heroine! Let’s not mistake Sarah for the lead again and get nothing but trouble!” Invest heavily? Where would a working-class family get the money? I remembered. In my past life, shortly after I entered the academy, my parents won $500,000 in the lottery. It was I who used information from Julian to advise them to invest in real estate, lifting our family from poverty to the middle class. Chloe crossed her arms, looking at me mockingly. “Go to public school then. Go compete with those nerds and suffer without hot water in the dorms!” “What is mine will eventually be mine. No one can take it away!” I realized then. It wasn’t just me. My whole family was reborn. Interesting. Let them continue their dream of wealth, enjoying the backstabbing and humiliation of high society. I will endure the hardships of studying alone. The school was far, so I wanted to focus on my studies. Knowing my parents had won the lottery, I asked to live on campus. But they roared in anger: “Dorm fees are $500 a semester! You don’t care how hard we work for money!” Just then, Chloe returned from the academy with bags of snacks and toys. My parents beamed, praising her success and scolding me: “Look at Chloe! Not only is her tuition and board free, she even brings things home. You want to waste money on public school dorms? Useless spendthrift!” As expected, their bias hadn’t changed. Before, Chloe ranked tenth in school, and they bragged she was a genius. They never cared that I was second in my school, just five points away from first place. 2 Chloe bragged about her life at the academy and how well Julian treated her. “Even though I’m a scholarship student, he never looks down on me. He gives me gifts and says I’m the most special girl he’s ever met.” “He said he’s interested in how ordinary people live and wants to come for dinner tomorrow. Mom, Dad, prepare well!” My parents praised her, promising to make their best dishes. In my past life, this was the moment. I sent Chloe away so they wouldn’t meet. He secretly took photos of my cramped home, leading to three years of bullying at school. When I was most helpless, he appeared as a hero, trapping me in a vortex of gentleness hiding sharp knives. I only learned the truth much later. Since the whole family was reborn, I wasn’t sure if Julian was too. So I feigned illness, wearing a mask and glasses to avoid recognition. As soon as he entered, he pinched his nose. “Did something rot? It smells like mold.” My parents’ faces darkened, but they served the feast they had prepared all day. The braised pork balls we only ate on New Year’s were untouched by Julian, yet he praised falsely: “Uncle, Auntie, your cooking is amazing. No wonder you raised such a beautiful and excellent daughter like Chloe!” My parents were ecstatic, bragging that the Su family would soon have a wealthy lady and live the good life. Determined to invest in Chloe, they used the $50,000 lottery winnings to sign her up for etiquette classes costing $2,000 a session, five times a week. While my parents ignored me, I secured first place in the city-wide exams, becoming a focus for teachers. One day, my childhood friend, also a scholarship student at the academy, messaged me: [Did you know Chloe is being bullied badly by the rich kids? I dare not help her. Julian, the Prince of the Capital, said whoever helps her is next… keep this secret…] [Don’t help. Protect yourself.] My friend was puzzled: [You always protected Chloe. Since childhood, you were the first to fight for her.] That was because biased parents taught the older sister to protect and yield to the younger one. But if I protected her, who would protect me? We were fraternal twins, born just five minutes apart. A month later, my parents, faces grim, proposed selling the house. 3 “Sarah, we’re really struggling. We can live in the employee dorms, and Chloe lives at school. This house is useless. Plus, Chloe’s etiquette classes need money…” I couldn’t believe they burned through $50,000 in a month and wanted to continue. I laughed in anger. “Heh, what about me? Do I live on the street if you sell the house?” Just then, Chloe returned, soaked and covered in bruises. She wailed, throwing herself at them. “Why am I still bullied even though I try so hard? Is it because I’m not elegant or beautiful enough for Julian to help me?” My parents comforted her: “Don’t be scared, Chloe. Mommy and Daddy will sell the house to get you better classes.” They immediately contacted an agency for “debutante training,” boasting about adding dance and vocal lessons costing $5,000 each. These three were insane! I couldn’t help but shout: “Enough! Am I not your daughter? I just need a place to live. Is that so hard?!” Seeing Chloe crying in her arms, Mom rushed over and slapped me. “Your sister is suffering like this! And you’re making a scene!” Suddenly, text floated in the air: [Boohoo, poor Chloe. Endure a bit longer. When you’re of age, CEO Julian will marry you!] [This sister is so short-sighted. Doesn’t she know Chloe will be the famous Mrs. Thorne?] Chloe stopped crying. The three stared wide-eyed at the text. I silently lowered my head, pretending not to see. Dad waved his hand, determined: “Sarah, go live with your uncle! You’re the older sister, don’t be so unreasonable. We’re selling the house!” I tried hard to think. Thinking about Chloe’s future suffering, my parents’ poverty after selling the house. Don’t be angry, don’t be sad, don’t cry. But years of unfair treatment turned into bitterness filling my heart. I cried into my pillow all night. Unable to sway them, I was sent to my uncle’s house. My parents stopped caring about me. To earn tuition, I entered the city biology competition. First prize was $5,000. 4 Unexpectedly, I met Julian at the finals. Seeing me, he froze. I knew that expression. It was how he looked at Chloe in the past life. Julian grabbed me, frowning. “I’ll give you $50,000. Give me first place.” I shook him off and turned to run. He blocked my way. “I’ll hire the best biology professor for you. It’s just a title. Not that important to you, right?” Seeing him made me sick. “I don’t want your dirty money! If you want first place, earn it!” Unsurprisingly, I won first place and the prize money. In hindsight, rejecting Julian’s $50,000 was a bit impulsive. I regretted it slightly. But thanks to first place, the top university’s youth class offered me a spot. I just needed to finish high school curriculum in a year and pass the exam to enter the best program. Soon after, Chloe’s situation changed drastically. Chloe lifted her neck like a proud swan. “Did you know? No one dares to mess with me anymore. Julian announced to everyone that I am his future fiancée.” My parents couldn’t hide their pride, speaking to me as if bestowing charity: “When your sister marries into a wealthy family, our good days will come. We’ll buy several big houses, maybe give you one.” Good days? Hellish days were coming. Five years later, I finished my undergraduate degree in biology at the top university and went straight to a PhD program. I was only twenty. Five or six years earlier than Chloe in the past life. I hadn’t contacted my family for a long time. Chatting with my childhood friend, Lily, I heard rumors about Chloe. The news that Prince Julian insisted on engaging Chloe shocked the capital. All because Chloe looked 70% like Julian’s “white moonlight.” “Heard Julian’s white moonlight is a high-IQ beauty, totally different from a dropout like Chloe.” The more I listened, the more wrong it sounded. I asked: “How did this white moonlight meet Julian?” “Uh, heard it was a biology competition…” My heart sank. In the last life, wasn’t Chloe able to return to him

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The tenth time I felt the icy glare of the school’s most popular guy, I saw the floating text: [The male lead time-traveled back ten years, only to find his wife is still someone else’s girlfriend. His world has collapsed.] [Crushing on her for years, finally winning her over, and now he has to start from scratch.] [Baby Chloe has a boyfriend right now; the male lead can only endure it.] [I have a feeling this old man in a young body won’t hold back like his nineteen-year-old self did.] Sure enough, the next second, my phone buzzed with an anonymous text: [Hello, can you break up with him?] [Or, do you mind having an extra boyfriend?] [I promise, I’ll hide properly until you break up.] 1 The elective class bell rang. As I was packing my books, the guy sitting behind me tapped my back with his pen. I turned around to see him looking down nervously. “Chloe, c-could you help me with this problem?” I nodded and took his calculus workbook to write down the solution. “Got it?” After explaining, I looked up at him. The guy seemed to snap out of a trance, his ears burning red as he nodded awkwardly. “I got it. Chloe, you’re really amazing.” I smiled politely. “You’re welcome. Ask me anytime.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt that icy stare again. Here we go again. I glanced diagonally ahead at Julian Thorne. Sharp brows, high nose, fair skin making his dark eyes look like deep pools. Right now, he was staring resentfully at the boy smiling at me. When our eyes met, his gaze flickered, revealing loneliness and sorrow. Like a puppy abandoned by its owner. This was the tenth time today. Since morning, whenever a boy spoke to me—whether it was a classmate asking for contact info or a senior from a club—he would appear with precision, watching silently from a corner. Then, when I noticed him, his eyelashes would tremble, pitiful and desolate. This was too abnormal. We had never interacted before. I only knew he was the campus heartthrob, cold in personality, top of the Computer Science department. I rarely stayed on campus except for classes and didn’t live in the dorms. I couldn’t figure out how I had offended him. Just as I was about to confront him, scrolling text appeared before my eyes: [A 29-year-old man will stare intensely at his wife, but 19-year-old Julian Thorne will only silently tell himself he has no right to be jealous.] [Hahaha, the desperate husband’s inner monologue: Every man approaching my wife has bad intentions!] [The male lead traveled back from 29 to 19. His wife is still someone else’s girlfriend. His world collapsed, and now guys keep talking to her. It’s annoying!] [A secret crush for years, finally got the wife, now reset. Who wouldn’t go crazy!] … 2 I blinked, making sure I wasn’t hallucinating. Julian Thorne had a crush on me? And he’s my future husband? This isn’t the 19-year-old Julian, but my husband Julian from the future? While I was processing this shock, more text appeared: [No choice, Baby Chloe is dating her childhood friend right now. Male lead can only endure.] [I feel like this old man won’t hold back like he did at nineteen.] … Dating? I remembered. Liam, that brat, dated the department beauty and got dumped. Later, she invited him to her birthday party. He offered a month’s allowance, begging me to pretend to be his girlfriend to save face. I didn’t need the money, but Liam was annoying. He begged every day. I couldn’t take it anymore and agreed. Did Julian see us that day? While I was silently cursing my troublemaker childhood friend, he messaged me: [Chloe, emergency!!!] Before I could type, the back door of the classroom slammed open. Liam, with his sharp and flashy features, panicked, grabbed my bag with one hand and dragged me out with the other. “Liam! You…” Bang! A chair slammed back, making a loud noise. It cut me off and stopped Liam and me in our tracks. Looking back. Julian stood against the light, jaw tight, looking at where Liam held my hand. His eyes revealed collapse, pain, and longing. Then his Adam’s apple bobbed, voice hoarse: “Sorry, I got up too fast. Didn’t scare you, did I?” Liam dragged the still-dazed me out, hurriedly replying: “No worries, bro. Understand the rush to leave.” The floating text went wild: [He really can’t hold it in now. Screw being a model student, screw moral baselines, screw taking it slow! I want my wife!] [Don’t! Don’t provoke this desperate husband anymore. He’s really going to snap!] [Chloe, don’t go! Chloe!] I recalled the scene just now. Why did it feel like I really made Julian into a desperate husband abandoned by his wife? 3 “Chloe, good Chloe, beautiful and kind goddess, you don’t have classes later, right?” “Come to the gathering later. Mia will be there with her boyfriend. Come with me, please.” Outside the school, Liam leaned against his flashy new sports car, putting his hands together in prayer. “Liam, you’re sick. I’m done acting! Playing this game with you is blocking my own romance!” Thinking of Julian, I glanced at Liam coolly and refused. Liam froze, looking at me excitedly: “Romance? You never cared about that. What? Found someone you like?” “None of your business. Only you can date, but I can’t?” I side-eyed him. “Tch, fine. I’ll find someone new tomorrow. I’m this handsome.” “But you, careful not to get scammed. Want me to graciously check him out for you?” “Also, when we go abroad after graduation, don’t beg me to take care of you in a foreign land.” Liam’s eyes were sharp, his tone sarcastic. I kicked the tire of his beloved car, smiling fakely: “Fix your lack of direction first. Who’s taking care of whom?” While speaking, the text appeared again: [Holy crap, is Baby Chloe fake dating? Acting?] [Hahaha, Julian’s world is collapsing even more. In the past life, he crushed on her through high school and college. Only when she returned from abroad and met at a banquet did he dare approach using business cooperation.] [This is the consequence of not speaking up. If only he had the courage to ask back then.] [Sigh, 19-year-old Julian had nothing. Chloe and Liam were childhood friends, matched in status.] [Looks like even after becoming a big boss, he still didn’t dare ask.] [Of course not. After all, the heroine proposed a marriage of alliance for mutual benefit. He always thought it was a business marriage, later silently transferring most assets to her name.] … Just as I was reading the scrolling text seriously. My phone vibrated. An anonymous message appeared: [Hello, can you break up with him?] I froze. Before I could react, another message came: [Or, do you mind having an extra boyfriend?] [I promise, I’ll hide properly until you break up.] My finger hovered over the screen. I typed three words: [Julian Thorne?] Just as I debated sending it, Liam suddenly leaned in: “Who is it? That crush of yours?” My hand slipped, and I hit send. My temple throbbed. I locked the phone and glared at Liam. “What? So precious about it.” Liam snorted, opening the car door coldly: “Drive you back?” “No need. Scarlett asked me to go shopping. Go by yourself.” Hearing Scarlett’s name, Liam got into the car cleanly, roaring away. 4 “Where’s that brat Liam? I’ve been back for days, and he hasn’t come to pay respects?” Scarlett flipped her thick ash-brown curls, annoyance on her glamorous face. I sat on the sofa, absentmindedly watching models display the season’s new arrivals. I explained to this childhood friend who grew up with Liam and me: “He said last time you came back, you used him as a practice model, scolding him while shooting. It traumatized him.” Scarlett’s lips curled coldly: “Don’t worry, I don’t care for him now.” “I passed a mechanic shop a few days ago and saw a prime specimen.” “I’ll ride you there later. I want him to practice on.” Prime specimen? Julian’s face flashed in my mind. I took out my phone, tapping the screen. No messages. I raised an eyebrow slightly. At night, having shopped enough, Miss Scarlett rode her new motorcycle and took me to that shop. The owner greeted us with shining eyes. Before he could speak, Scarlett pointed at a man not far away: “Let him do it.” The man looked up, weary and indifferent. But seeing me, he paused slightly. I looked at Julian in a black tank top, broad shoulders, narrow waist, arm muscles smooth and powerful, and smiled slightly. “How is he? Prime, right?” “Perfect proportions, golden ratio, photogenic as hell.” Scarlett’s eyes burned with artistic passion. “Yes, prime indeed.” I watched Julian walking closer and replied softly.

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While I was scavenging for trash, I stumbled upon a street activity. “I’ll give you 100 dollars, and you spend it. I’ll pay,” said the influencer. Taking the 100-dollar bill, I smiled with a sense of relief. He didn’t know that I would use this money to kill three people right in front of tens of thousands of viewers in his live stream. 1 I had just put a plastic bottle I found in the trash into my woven bag when I heard someone call me from behind. “Ma’am, I’ll give you a hundred dollars. Spend it however you like.” A fashionably dressed man, hiding the disgust in his eyes, pointed his phone camera at me. Seeing my confused look, he took out a hundred-dollar bill and stuffed it into my hand. “I’m a streamer. Take the money, buy whatever you want!” I clutched the money tightly, squinting at his phone screen. “Finally live! I can’t go a day without watching Big Chris.” “Big Chris helping those in need with real action, thumbs up!” “This scavenger lady looks so pitiful, her clothes are dirty and torn. I really hope this hundred dollars can improve her life a bit.” Comments scrolled by, and the viewer count in the live stream kept climbing, instantly hitting over ten thousand. I put the money in my pocket and nodded to this streamer named Chris. This many witnesses were enough. 2 Chris followed behind me, talking eloquently to the camera. “Fam, I’ve been doing this hundred-dollar street charity challenge for a year now. It’s thanks to your support that I’ve come this far.” “Rest assured, the targets I choose are all people in difficult situations who need help.” “A hundred dollars is small, but it can truly help them!” “You can say I’m stingy, but I have a clear conscience!” Chris’s voice was very persuasive, and soon the screen was filled with gift effects. He glanced at me and continued: “This lady looks about sixty. It’s not easy being out scavenging at this age, relying on picking up trash to survive.” “Let’s see, what practical things can she buy with this hundred dollars?” After speaking, he quickened his pace to walk alongside me. “Ma’am, where is your family? How can they let you scavenge at such an old age?” I said lightly. “My family is all gone.” Chris sighed and shook his head. “Sigh, you really have a hard life.” “If you need any help, just tell me, Big Chris won’t hesitate!” I turned my head and stared at him quietly. He got creeped out by my stare and asked awkwardly: “Ma’am, what’s wrong?” I curved my lips and smiled gently. “No need, you are helping me right now.” 3 Chatting along the way, I walked to a fruit stand in the market. The fruit stand was under an old building, with no one in front of it. A woman about my age glanced at me and walked up reluctantly. “What do you want to buy?” I pointed to a bundle of sugarcane nearby. She looked me up and down and said grumpily: “Sugarcane is thirty dollars a stick. Do you have money?” I waved the bill in my hand at her, and she then slowly took a stick of sugarcane to peel. Comments floated by. “She’s had such a bitter life, getting money and wanting something sweet immediately.” “Wait, this shop isn’t right. Sugarcane is at most twenty dollars a stick.” “And she picked the oldest one for the lady! Streamer, remind her!” Chris looked at the screen from the side and whispered: “Fam, the principle of the stream is to give money but not interfere.” “So, I can’t intervene in this situation.” After the owner peeled it, I could clearly see the sugarcane was dry, with black spots inside. She walked to the sugarcane cutting machine not far away, quickly chopped the sugarcane into sections and bagged them, then came to ask me for money. I shook my head, smoothing my hair messed up by a gust of strong wind. Under her surprised gaze, I extended two more fingers. “Give me two more sticks.” A look of joy appeared on the owner’s face, and she pulled out two more sticks of poor-quality sugarcane to peel. The comments on the screen surged continuously. “Is this lady senile? Can’t she see she’s being given bad sugarcane?” “Buying so much sugarcane, can she finish it?” “Exactly, others save to buy daily necessities. She just spent it all at once.” Chris watched his phone quietly, the corners of his mouth rising constantly. Controversy brings heat. In this short while, his live stream gained several thousand more viewers. The owner was quick with her hands and feet, processing the other two sticks of sugarcane at the cutting machine in no time. I stood in front of her, looking at her coldly. As she packed the three bags ready to give me, another strong wind blew. Dust on the ground mixed with various plastic bags flew all over the sky. The owner subconsciously reached out to wipe her eyes. The next second, a dull crack sounded, and warm blood splattered on my face. She collapsed to the ground, her head smashed by a piece of wall brick falling from upstairs. 4 After the people around reacted, sharp screams erupted. Chris’s eyes widened, clutching his phone tightly, the camera fixed on the fruit stand owner’s body. Comments surged like a tide. “Holy crap, holy crap!” “Someone died? For real?” “Omg, witnessing a death live!” Someone at a nearby stall called for an ambulance and police. Soon, sirens wailed as they arrived. The doctor got out, took one look, and shook his head. The police examined the scene, took notes, dispersed the crowd, and arranged for the doctor to cover the deceased with a white cloth and carry her onto a stretcher. After everything ended, Chris’s face was full of ecstasy. The live stream was packed with comments, and the popularity was skyrocketing. He continued to the camera: “Fam, we just witnessed a death incident live.” “A living life vanished right before our eyes, it’s truly heartbreaking.” “You never know which comes first, tomorrow or an accident.” “But our agreement with the lady still stands, our stream won’t stop.” “Now, let’s continue!” Chris looked at me with a smile, the disgust in his eyes gone. After all, I was now his money tree. I continued leading him through the market, glancing at the screen, a few comments catching my eye. “Why do I feel like that fruit stand owner was killed by this lady?” “If she bought one less stick of sugarcane, the owner would have left the cutting machine sooner and wouldn’t have been hit by the falling brick.” Many people retorted. “That owner was a crook, bullying the lady for not knowing better, deliberately giving her bad sugarcane.” “Evil people get their karma, good riddance!” “Exactly, who knows how many more people she would have scammed if she lived.” I looked at these comments, sneering in my heart. These people hide behind the internet, standing on a self-righteous moral high ground, hurling abuse at anyone who disagrees. Their morals are actually not much higher than that fruit stand owner’s. Glancing at Chris, I stopped in front of a cheap men’s clothing store. I casually picked up a ten-dollar red tie, pulled it hard with both hands, and nodded with satisfaction. After paying, I handed the tie to Chris. “Take it, this is a gift from me.” Chris looked at this cheap red tie with a difficult expression. “Omg, the lady is so nice!” “I’ve watched streams for so long, this is the first time someone used this hundred dollars to buy something for the streamer!” “Boohoo, in the lady’s generation, a guy in a suit and tie is the most handsome and promising, that’s why she bought a tie for the streamer.” “Streamer, this is her heart, just accept it!” For a moment, countless gifts floated across the screen. Chris looked at the comments and accepted the tie with a smile. “Thank you, ma’am. Theoretically, I shouldn’t accept it.” “But I can’t bear to let down your kindness, so I’ll take it.” I smiled watching him gesture with the tie around his neck. The bright red tie looped around his neck, not too big, not too small, just right.

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I gave up my job in the city to move back home and take care of my grandparents. I took over the family’s small storefront, planning to open a nail salon. But the owner of the barbecue joint next door wanted the space for himself, planning to turn it into a cheap card room for his buddies. And he was determined to make my life hell until I gave in. The owner, Vince, was a notorious local bully. He didn’t just block my entrance with his truck; he sent his goons to harass me. In the end, I gritted my teeth and leased the shop to the city—as a new community fire station. And that’s when the self-proclaimed king of the block began his personal nightmare. Because no matter how tough he acted, even Vince wouldn’t dare mess with the fire department. 1. “Hey, Stella. I like this spot. I’ll give you two hundred a month for it. My brother-in-law’s gonna run a card room here.” I had just finished the last of the renovations on my nail salon when the owner of the neighboring business swaggered over, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Flanking him were two burly, bald-headed goons who looked like they broke legs for a living. “Mr. Vince, this is a prime location. A place like this rents for at least fifteen hundred a month,” I said, covering my nose and taking a step back from the acrid smoke. “Besides, I’m opening my own business here. It’s not for rent.” My gut screamed that this man was trouble. The shop was my grandparents’ life savings. Renting it out for two hundred dollars a month was the same as giving it away for free. Vince shot me a cold look and let out a derisive snort. “Stella, don’t be a bitch. When I’m talking to you nicely, you should just say yes.” “I’m not renting it out!” Normally, you want to stay on good terms with your business neighbors, but this guy was a tyrant. I was already doing my best to keep my temper in check. “You really think you’re something special, don’t you?” Vince leaned in, his clothes reeking of grease and smoke. The malice in his eyes was palpable. “You should ask around. Everyone on this block knows who Vince is. Two hundred a month is me doing you a favor. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll pack your shit and get lost.” As he spoke, he kicked over the small trash can I’d placed by the door. “Otherwise,” he sneered, “I can’t say what kind of ‘trouble’ your little shop might run into.” With a final, arrogant laugh, he and his thugs lumbered back to their BBQ joint. I stared at the sign next door, “Vince’s Grill,” and felt a wave of nausea. My first thought was that I’d just have to be more careful. This isn’t the wild west; he couldn’t just come in and smash the place up, could he? But I had no idea just how low Vince was willing to stoop. 2. To prepare for my grand opening, I’d ordered a batch of flyers and promotional signs. The day I brought them to the salon, I noticed the BBQ joint had made a… modification. They had rerouted their main kitchen vent. Now, all the greasy smoke from their kitchen was billowing directly toward my front door. It wasn’t even noon, but their industrial fan was already roaring, spewing the smell of cheap charcoal and burnt meat into the air. My entire storefront was shrouded in a hazy, disgusting smog. My entrance was right under the vent. My clients were young women who cared about looking and feeling good. Who would want to walk through a cloud of grease just to get their nails done? I was about to go over and confront them when three or four cheap plastic tables and chairs were hauled out of Vince’s Grill and set up directly in front of my salon. Seven or eight tattooed goons sat down, cracking open beers and starting a loud, profanity-laced card game. They were so loud, and their language was so vile, it was impossible to ignore. They were completely blocking my entrance. How was I supposed to run a business? I was a woman alone; a direct confrontation was a bad idea. So I called property management. But as soon as I mentioned Vince’s Grill, their tone changed. “Ms. Stella, this sounds like a small dispute between neighbors. All we can really do is try to mediate,” the manager said dismissively. “Besides, you’re a nail salon. You don’t really need the outdoor space, so why not just let them use it?” It was obvious whose side they were on. Before I could argue, he hung up, clearly wanting nothing to do with it. The men drinking outside saw the look of helpless anger on my face and burst into laughter. “You heard the man, bitch! Get lost while you still can, or we’ll show you what real trouble looks like!” “If you’ve got the guts, then smash up my shop! Otherwise, you’re never getting this space!” I yelled back, my voice shaking with rage, before storming inside. Looking at my beautifully decorated salon, the thought of giving up was unbearable. But with a neighbor from hell like Vince, my business was doomed before it even started. Just as I was trying to figure out a new plan, Vince escalated his tactics. The next morning, when I arrived to set up my product displays, I found the entire area in front of my store buried in garbage. Blackened takeout containers, grease-soaked napkins, and rotting food scraps were everywhere. Worse, my roll-up security door was smeared with vomit and what smelled sickeningly like urine. The rest of the street was spotless. It was only my storefront that was a disgusting mess. Even the city sanitation workers were too scared of Vince to do their jobs properly. People on their way to work saw the scene, pinched their noses, and shook their heads. “What bad luck, opening up next to Vince,” I heard one of them mutter. “Everyone knows that guy’s untouchable. Tsk, tsk, that poor girl’s business is finished.” I clenched my fists, refusing to be his victim. I called property management again and demanded they check the security footage. The manager flatly told me I didn’t have the authority to view the tapes and that if I didn’t clean up the mess myself, I’d be fined for violating sanitation codes. Furious, I called the police. But when they arrived, they just sighed and said it was a civil matter and all they could do was mediate. With no other choice, I went to a hardware store, bought my own cleaning supplies, and started to work. That’s when Vince appeared, casually cracking sunflower seeds. His eyes shone with unconcealed triumph. “Well, Stella. How do you like my welcome gift?” He sauntered over and spat a mouthful of shells onto my shirt. “A woman like you should be at home raising kids, not playing business owner. Don’t think I don’t know your type. You probably got run through by every guy in the big city, now you’re back here pretending to be innocent, trying to snag a man. You’re not bad looking, though. You sleep with me a few times, maybe I’ll even cut you a break.” His lecherous gaze made my skin crawl. I reacted without thinking. My hand flew up and I slapped him, hard, across the face. His head snapped to the side. He slowly rolled his tongue over the inside of his cheek. “You bitch. You dare hit me? Fine. I’ll teach you what happens when you cross me.” He turned and walked away. I stood there, my heart hammering against my ribs, a cold dread washing over me. I knew this wasn’t over. I spent the rest of the day setting up the shop, but a sense of unease clung to me. That afternoon, my phone rang. It was the hospital. My grandmother had fallen while she was out shopping. She had a broken leg. I rushed over to find her pale and exhausted, her leg in a heavy cast. She saw me and forced a smile, telling me not to worry. “Grandma, how did this happen?” My grandmother was old, but she was still sharp and steady on her feet. It didn’t make sense for her to suddenly fall and break a bone. “I was at the farmer’s market,” she explained, her voice weak. “A scooter was coming through, so I stepped aside to let it pass. But as it went by, someone stuck their foot out and kicked me.” That single, vicious kick had sent her tumbling into a metal railing, shattering her leg. Her words hit me like a physical blow. I didn’t need to guess. I knew. It was Vince. He said he’d make me pay, and he’d gone after my grandmother. In that moment, a chilling cold seeped into my heart. I immediately called the police and reported an assault. But with only my grandmother’s testimony and no security cameras at the market, there was no way to prove anything. The investigation stalled. I was left to wait, helpless. Between caring for my grandmother at the hospital and making sure my grandfather was fed at home, the salon’s grand opening was postponed indefinitely. I was at my wits’ end when I got a friend request on my phone. The person claimed to be a community liaison for the neighborhood. I accepted. A moment later, my phone buzzed with a flood of images. My salon, its front splattered with bright red paint. In front of it, a three-wheeled cart packed with live rabbits, their waste creating a stench so foul it was a public health hazard. A message followed: Ms. Stella, you should probably come and take a look. We have a city inspection team coming through soon, and we need to meet beautification standards. Your storefront is… a bit of an eyesore. The liaison was being polite. It was more than an eyesore; it was a horror show. While I had been distracted with my grandmother, Vince had gotten even more brazen. He was trying to break me. But even if I called the police, these were all petty crimes. The punishment would be a slap on the wrist, another round of useless “mediation.” During that time, my grandfather told me people were lurking around our house. Our front door’s keyhole was plugged with glue. The worst was when someone set a pile of trash on fire right outside our door. Thick, black smoke filled the house, and my grandfather was so terrified he almost jumped out a window to escape. A bitter resentment burned inside me. Why should I be punished for trying to run an honest business? But when I took my evidence to property management and the neighborhood council, I was met with apathetic shrugs and bureaucratic runaround. They all told me to just “be the bigger person” and “let it go.” But how much further could I retreat? I’d spent ten thousand on renovations and another fifteen on inventory. My entire savings were tied up in this shop, and all I could do was watch as Vince systematically destroyed it. I was exhausted, physically and emotionally. I had to put on a brave face for my grandparents, but inside, I was crumbling. I went to the salon to arrange for a new security door. As I worked, neighbors walked by, pointing and whispering. “That’s her. The one who picked a fight with Vince on her first day.” “Serves her right. These young people have no idea how the world works. If she’d just given in, none of this would have happened.” Their words were like needles in my heart. I was the victim, so why was I the one being judged? Meanwhile, Vince was untouchable. “Hey, sweetheart,” he called out from his doorway. “Like the presents I got you? I’ll give you one more day to think it over. If you don’t rent this place to me, those two old relics you live with are gonna have a real bad time.” He kicked a piece of trash toward my door. A gust of greasy smoke from his kitchen blew into my face, making my eyes water. That night, after I’d made dinner for my grandparents, I went to the hospital. My grandmother was due to be released in a few days. As I sat with her, she took my hand. “Stella,” she said, her voice soft. “Are you in some kind of trouble?” Her hand was so warm, and her simple question made my nose sting with unshed tears. I shook my head quickly. “No, of course not. The shop is just a lot of work. I have to stay on top of things.” She stroked my cheek, her eyes full of love and worry. “You have to take care of yourself. If the shop is too much, just let it go. Nothing is more important than you. Your parents are gone. If something happened to you… your grandfather and I couldn’t bear it.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a bank card. “This is from your grandfather and me. It’s twenty thousand dollars. If you’re having trouble with the business, use it. In business, you win some, you lose some. Don’t ever torture yourself over it.” That was it. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. Tears streamed down my face, dripping onto her hand. “Grandma, I’m so useless,” I sobbed. “You gave me this shop, and I can’t even protect it!” The weeks of torment had shattered my confidence. My grandparents were in their eighties, and I was still causing them to worry. It was all Vince’s fault, but I was the one bearing all the blame. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a mass text from the community liaison. The City Fire Department is looking to establish a community satellite fire station in our neighborhood. Seeking to lease or purchase a street-level commercial space, 500-1000 sq. ft. My eyes lit up. My shop was in the perfect location. It was 860 square feet. It was exactly what they were looking for. “Grandma,” I said, wiping my tears. “If I can’t run my business in peace, then I won’t run it at all. Vince thinks he’s so tough, that he has all the connections? Fine. I’ll get him a new neighbor. A really, really powerful one.” I looked at the phone number in the text message, a fierce, desperate resolve hardening in my eyes. Without a moment’s hesitation, I dialed. 3. Following the directions I was given over the phone, I went to the main fire station with my property deed and the salon’s floor plans. I was met by Captain Miller. “Hello, Captain. I’m Stella, I just called you,” I said, handing him the documents. “This is the location and layout of my shop. It perfectly meets the requirements for your satellite station. Not only does it have a wide storefront, but it also faces the main community road, which would be extremely convenient for daily operations and training drills.” Captain Miller seemed surprised to get such a quick and enthusiastic response. He took the papers and studied them. The location and layout were, indeed, ideal. “Ms. Stella, what’s the rent for this property? Our department budget is a bit tight.” I shook my head. “Don’t worry about the rent, Captain. You’re setting up this station to serve the community. It wouldn’t be right for me to charge you full price. The market rate is fifteen hundred a month. For you, it’s five hundred. And I’m willing to sign a five-year contract with no price increases.” Captain Miller raised an eyebrow. The location was excellent. Why was I offering it to them for a fraction of its value? I could see the question in his eyes. I gave him a bitter smile. “If you come with me, you’ll understand.” I took him to the shop. I hadn’t had a chance to replace the security door yet, and the garish red paint was like a raw wound. The area in front was still cluttered with abandoned vehicles and piles of trash, a stark contrast to the rest of the clean street. I explained everything that had happened with Vince. “That’s the situation,” I finished. “I’m just an ordinary person. I can’t win against a bully like him. But I refuse to give in. Rather than live under his threats, I’d feel much safer leasing the shop to you.” Captain Miller’s gaze swept over the scene, his brow furrowing as he looked at Vince’s Grill next door. He couldn’t believe someone could be so brazen. “Ms. Stella, I appreciate your sincerity,” he said, his voice firm. “And thank you for this generous offer. You’ve solved a major problem for us. Let’s sign the contract. We can take possession tomorrow and be moved in within a week. As for these… uncivilized business tactics, I assure you, we will not allow them to continue.” A wave of relief washed over me. I shook his hand, our deal sealed. Unfortunately, Vince saw the whole exchange. He sauntered over, a grin splitting his face, showing off a row of yellow teeth. “Well, well, sweetheart. I told you, if you don’t rent this place to me, you’re not renting it to anyone. Doesn’t matter if you find another guy. I’ll run him out of business just the same.” I ignored him and told Captain Miller I’d be back tomorrow to move my things out. As the captain was about to leave, Vince darted forward to block his path, jutting his chin out arrogantly. “Hey, pal. I’d advise you not to rent this place if you know what’s good for you. You should ask around about Vince. Anyone who tries to take what’s mine ends up regretting it. Big time.” He jabbed a finger into Captain Miller’s shoulder. “So get lost.” Captain Miller calmly brushed off the spot Vince had touched. “And what if I say no?” he asked, a faint smile on his lips. “Then don’t blame me for what happens next!” Vince spat on the ground. “Don’t think I’m stupid. I know that little bitch probably slept with you to get you to take over her mess. If you open up here, you better watch your back. Wouldn’t want your family to have any… accidents.” Hearing his threat, any lingering doubt I had about my grandmother’s “fall” vanished. But I still had no proof. Captain Miller’s smile didn’t waver, but a cold glint entered his eyes. “We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” He turned and walked away with me, leaving Vince standing there, cursing under his breath. He probably had no idea that today was the last good day he’d have for a very, very long time. From here on out, every day would be his own personal nightmare.

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