Thirty minutes before the college application deadline, the class valedictorian, Tiffany, led the whole class in changing their top choices from Ivy League schools to random community colleges. Tiffany covered her mouth, giggling with delight: “It’s more fun when we all play a prank together! We’ll change it back at the last minute and scare the crap out of those uptight teachers!” I kindly reminded them that a storm was coming in half an hour, which could knock out the internet. My boyfriend mocked me: “You’re just jealous that Tiffany is so popular and everyone listens to her. Stop pretending!” In my past life, I screamed myself hoarse for twenty minutes, trying to persuade them. Finally, everyone except Tiffany wavered and changed their choices back. But Tiffany, due to network lag, was forced to go to a community college. Later, while everyone else went to prestigious universities, Tiffany couldn’t handle the blow and jumped from the twentieth floor of her college dorm. My frenzied classmates tied me to a helicopter and hanged me: “Bitch, if you hadn’t interfered, we would have gone to community college with Tiffany, and she wouldn’t have killed herself!” “Compared to Tiffany’s life, what does my future matter! A bitch like you who only cares about success wouldn’t understand!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day they changed their applications. This time, I watched coldly as they dug their own graves. Let’s see if they still have the same attitude when they’re stuck going to community colleges! 1 The mocking voices of my classmates seemed to come from far away: “Buzzkill! Such a nerd, no sense of humor at all!” “You’re the only one not joining in! Too good for a prank? No wonder no one wants to hang out with you!” “…” I froze, looking at the surroundings in a daze. This was an internet cafe! Not 30,000 feet in the air! I was reborn! My boyfriend, Lucas, saw my dazed expression and looked even more disgusted: “Asking you one last time, are you willing to join Tiffany in this prank and change your application to a community college?” Staring at the boyfriend in front of me, I clenched my fists. In my past life, after Tiffany jumped, he tricked me into going to the suburbs under the guise of proposing, gouged out my eyes, and hanged me from a helicopter with our classmates! I sneered and shook my head: “No!” Lucas was so angry he said “Fine” three times, then wrapped his arm around Tiffany’s waist: “It’s okay, Tiffany, we’ll change it with you! This dead woman read herself stupid!” Everyone was exceptionally united at this moment: “Yeah, Tiffany, we’ll change with you! Why waste your breath on a nerd!” “Come on, everyone change! If you don’t change, you’re not part of the crew!” In less than five minutes, all of their applications were changed to community colleges. This time, without my interference, they changed it smoothly. To cause a sensation, all forty-nine of them posted a screenshot on their Instagram stories to flood the feed. With the same caption and screenshot: “Ditching the Ivies for community college. Heh, just for fun!” People from other classes were shocked and commented below: “No way, bro! So rebellious, so cool!” “Holy crap! That’s hardcore! Respect!” “As expected of the honors class, next level! Fighting the system to the end!” The classmates enjoyed the praise, heads held high like proud roosters. Outside, the storm was getting louder. Less than fifteen minutes until the power and internet went out! 2 I sneered inwardly. Laugh now. You’ll be crying just as hard later! Just as I lowered my head to hide my smirk, I heard Tiffany’s sickly sweet voice: “Zoe, everyone changed except you. Those who don’t fit in get the ‘class punishment’~” The so-called “class punishment” was created by the class to please Tiffany. Once, Tiffany was jealous of a pretty girl, so she used the class punishment to incite everyone to bully her until she had to transfer. Hearing “class punishment,” everyone glared at me aggressively. Some even rolled up their sleeves, ready to beat me up. I looked up from the computer, smiling brightly: “Sure, I’ll change.” They stared straight at my screen. Watching me change my top choice from Harvard to a community college, they sneered: “At least you know what’s good for you!” “Making Tiffany happy is your only use!” I didn’t miss the triumphant glint in Tiffany’s eyes. Thinking of the secret I discovered in my past life, my gaze towards my classmates filled with a hint of pity. A bunch of idiots, sold by Tiffany and still counting the money for her! Seeing the storm outside getting worse, a timid student couldn’t help but speak up: “What if the power goes out? We should change our choices back quickly, or we might actually end up at a community college.” Lucas said slowly: “What are you afraid of! The nerd isn’t scared, why are you?” “If the power was gonna go out, Zoe would have jumped to change it back already!” “Besides, youth is about being fearless!” Seeing my calm demeanor, they stopped worrying and even started pretending to be chill: “Exactly! So what if we go to community college!” “Whatever! We have the courage to start over!” “With our abilities, we can shine anywhere. Those parents and teachers are too short-sighted!” I silently rolled my eyes. I changed my application on a fake website I coded for fun, right in front of their faces. Of course I wasn’t afraid of a power outage… To show off their youthful spirit, they ran out of the internet cafe into the rain. Calling it “youth.” In the corner, a boy was shivering. He grabbed a classmate’s sleeve and asked: “Hello… did you also bomb the test and can only go to community college?” I recognized him. He was the top student in the class next door, but because his father committed suicide a month before the SATs, his scores plummeted. I was about to go comfort him when I saw my classmates holding back laughter: “Yeah, our whole class can only go to community college…” “So sad. Going to community college, might as well die!” “We’re going to kill ourselves tonight, want to join?” The boy didn’t catch their sarcasm. His pupils shrank violently, and he quickly persuaded: “Don’t… don’t kill yourselves. It hurts… my dad bled so much…” The classmates finally couldn’t hold it in and burst out laughing: “Hahahaha idiot, I’m going to Harvard, not playing with you!” “Getting into community college with a loser son like you, no wonder your dad killed himself!” “Scoring so low, if I were you, I’d have jumped off a building already!” They laughed wildly as they looked back at the internet cafe, planning to change their applications back. 3 But they all froze in place. The internet cafe was pitch black. The power was out. There were only ten minutes left until the application deadline. Seeing the power outage, everyone panicked: “Holy crap! Why is the power out! It never went out in the rain before!” “Think of something quick! I don’t want to go to a damn community college!” “That’s too embarrassing! My future is ruined!” “Tiffany, think of something, what do we do!” Lucas calmly pulled out his phone: “Don’t worry everyone, we can change it on our phones!” I was busy comforting the boy from the other class. Hearing Lucas, I smirked slightly. Too naive. Sure enough, the next second, wails erupted again: “Crap! It’s over, no signal on my phone!” “Mine too! What do I do! I suffered for three years in high school just to get into a good college…” Tiffany pouted, squeezing out two tears: “I’m sorry everyone, I didn’t know this would happen…” “Sorry, I shouldn’t have played a prank at this critical moment. Blame me, don’t blame Zoe… she definitely didn’t mean not to stop you…” Her words successfully drew all the fire to me: “Zoe! You’re too much. You check the weather forecast all the time, why didn’t you stop us!” “Are you trying to get revenge on us? Didn’t know you were so vicious!” “You did it on purpose! Just because your boyfriend likes Tiffany, you wanted revenge, right!” I laughed in anger. In my past life, I begged and pleaded, but no matter how hard I tried, they wouldn’t listen. I called teachers, parents, even the principal, going crazy with anxiety. They snatched my phone and beat me half to death. Finally, I had to threaten to call the police before they reluctantly changed their applications. Since they didn’t want to change, then in this life, don’t change. Tiffany suddenly exclaimed with joy: “I know where the signal is good! My cousin told me before, follow me!” Instantly, everyone was excited: “Tiffany! You’re reliable! Unlike someone, full of bad intentions!” My mouth curled up uncontrollably as I followed Tiffany to the place with “good signal.” Watching everyone’s cheerful expressions, I couldn’t help but sneer. Did they really think Tiffany would allow them to change their applications back? Sure enough, someone finally realized something was wrong on the way: “Tiffany, why is the signal getting worse the further we go?” “Just now images wouldn’t load, now I can’t even get on the internet!” Even Lucas panicked a bit, his voice trembling: “Tiffany… is your cousin reliable?” I looked at my watch. Only one minute left until the deadline. No matter what, it was too late to change the application. Finally, the deadline passed. In that last minute, everyone refreshed the page frantically, but there was no signal. Everyone screamed in despair: “F*ck! It’s over! I could have gone to an Ivy!” “Dammit! F*ck! How do I explain this to my mom!” “It was a done deal! Why did we have to be extra!” Tiffany’s tears fell plop plop: “Sorry… sorry everyone, it’s all my fault…” 4 Lucas couldn’t stand seeing Tiffany sad, so he vented all his anger on me: “Zoe! Are you an idiot! Why didn’t you stop us!” “Now we all have to go to community college, are you satisfied!” “Bitch! Aren’t you afraid of karma for doing something so heartless!” Lucas pinned me down like a madman, raining punches on me. The classmates swarmed up too, punching me one after another, comforting Tiffany while doing so: “It’s okay Tiffany! Not your fault, it’s all this dead nerd’s fault!” “She’s always so cautious, how could she not expect a power outage? What is she good for!” “Must be jealous of you, deliberately didn’t stop us, trying to sow discord! I won’t fall for her tricks!” I struggled until I had no strength left, seeing teachers and parents finally finding us in the rain. The teacher hurriedly pulled me up from the ground, scolding them: “Nonsense! I just checked, only Zoe’s application is for Ivy League schools, everyone else put community colleges!” “Is this something to joke about!” The classmates all froze, and the parents’ faces darkened. Lucas shouted at me: “Bitch! You tricked us! You didn’t change your application!” Some parents even shoved live streams in my face: “Little bitch! You tricked my kid into community college while you go to Harvard, huh!” “God, please bring justice!” The classmates in front of me rolled their eyes, exchanged glances. And said in unison: “Teacher, she tricked us into changing our applications! Please call the police, give us another chance!” “We were tricked! Teacher, can you beg the Education Board again? For the sake of us being deceived, give us another chance…” I scanned the faces of my classmates, tears welling up in my eyes. These were the classmates I desperately tried to help in my past life! So in this life, seeing their aggrieved looks, I felt no pity, only that they deserved it! The camera turned to my smirking face, and the livestream comments cursed even more. I struggled to stand up with the teacher’s help, exposing my face completely to the livestream: “I didn’t, it was all Tiffany who instigated them! I have a recording of the whole thing!” But just as I was about to take out my phone, all the classmates rushed up. To protect Tiffany, they stomped my phone to pieces! They were determined to protect Tiffany: “Zoe, stop pretending. We have forty-nine witnesses, you tricked us! Now you want to frame Tiffany! Shameless!” “Three years of classmates, didn’t know you were this kind of person!” Parents were red-eyed with rage. If not for the teachers protecting me, they would have rushed in to beat me. They questioned me loudly: “Why did you do this!” In the distance, police sirens sounded. My face lit up with joy, glancing at Tiffany sobbing in Lucas’s arms. Her good days were about to end! When the classmates learned the truth, it would be the day she went to hell!

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My roommate has a hemorrhoid the size of Texas. The weird part? Any gas that passes through it comes out smelling like fresh strawberries. Since this massive hemorrhoid was ruining her life, I kindly suggested she get surgery to remove it. After some hesitation, she agreed. But later, she found out by accident that the campus heartthrob is obsessed with strawberries. Furious, she burped milky bubbles while holding my head underwater. “If you hadn’t meddled in my business, the guy I love would have fallen for me!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the moment before I convinced her to get the surgery. Seeing her still revelling in her strawberry-scented farts, I decided to let nature take its course and watch that hemorrhoid grow. 1 “Do you guys smell that? It smells like strawberries in here.” As soon as Bella walked into the room, she took a deep breath and shouted. In my past life, I was caught off guard and started sniffing the air with her. Who would have thought it was Chloe’s fart! Unexpectedly, I was reborn back to this very moment. Damn it, the rebirth was too sudden; I didn’t have time to prepare a mask! I instinctively lowered my head and held my breath, silently vowing to run downstairs to the convenience store for strategic supplies ASAP. Seeing none of us respond, Bella felt a bit awkward talking to herself. She scratched her head and pressed on, unwilling to give up. “Wait, seriously, you guys don’t smell it? The strawberry scent is super strong.” “Chloe, Zara, Sophie, why are you all silent? Is one of you secretly eating strawberries behind my back? Hurry up and share a couple with me, and I’ll forgive you. Otherwise, I’m gonna get mad.” “Weirdo.” Sophie rolled her eyes without looking up. Chloe, on the other hand, blushed, nervously twisting her skirt hem, and whined softly. “Bella, no one is secretly eating strawberries. I just ate a bit too much for lunch and couldn’t hold back a fart.” “My farts… just smell like strawberries.” As soon as she finished speaking. Bella’s face froze, turning green and then pale. After processing it, she screamed. “You mean to say, I just took a huge whiff of your fart?” “Chloe, if you didn’t want to share strawberries, fine, but you didn’t have to be so gross!” 2 What Bella didn’t know was that Chloe had a unique condition. She had a magical hemorrhoid. Any gas passing through that hemorrhoid turned into the scent of strawberries. So Chloe always smelled like strawberries. The bigger the hemorrhoid grew, the stronger the scent. In my past life, after learning this secret, our roommates didn’t say anything to her face but created a group chat to roast Chloe daily. “So gross, how can she act all cute with that going on?” “Because of her, I never want to see a strawberry again.” “God, why do guys fall for her? She’s gross and messy. What do they see in her?” “Exactly. If she hadn’t given me that La Mer set yesterday, I wouldn’t even talk to her.” I couldn’t stand their two-faced behavior—taking her gifts and then stabbing her in the back. It just so happened that Chloe was addicted to fried and spicy foods, which irritated her hemorrhoid, making it grow worse. It got to the point where she walked funny and couldn’t sit for long periods. After much thought, I couldn’t help but advise her to get surgery. After some struggle, Chloe agreed. The surgery was successful. Soon, she bid farewell to the strawberry farts, her walk returned to normal, and she looked stunning in a white dress. Since she no longer needed her roommates to keep her secret, Chloe stopped giving them gifts. Without the gossip and freebies, the roommates started sowing discord out of spite. “Chloe, your trademark was that strawberry scent. Without it, you seem kind of plain.” Even Liam, the campus heartthrob who had shown interest in her, went official with someone else on Instagram. “Even my favorite strawberry scent is gone. What’s left to like about you?” In a rage, Chloe, hiccuping milky sobs, lured me to the pond. I went unsuspecting, only for her to push me underwater. “It’s all your fault.” “If you hadn’t been a busybody, Liam would be with me right now!” Then I opened my eyes, reborn. 3 This time around, I naturally wouldn’t be a busybody. I just watched coldly as Bella and Chloe bickered. Sophie pretended to be fair, mediating the argument. “Alright, Bella, Chloe didn’t do it on purpose. Just let it go. It’s not like she forced you to smell her fart, right?” Bella and Sophie had some underlying tension. Seeing Sophie side with Chloe, Bella stomped her foot and looked at me with aggrieved eyes. But I wouldn’t be stupid enough to stick my neck out for her like in my past life, only to earn Chloe’s hatred later. Lowering my eyes, I joined Sophie in persuading Bella. “Yeah, Bella. Chloe said it was just a fart. No need to hold onto it, right? I trust Chloe isn’t the type to hoard strawberries and not share.” “Besides, no one can control their farts. At least Chloe’s farts smell like strawberries. Better than stinky ones.” Hearing this, Chloe looked at me with gratitude, her eyes filled with misunderstood grievance and dependence. In my past life, seeing that look would have softened my heart, making me think it wasn’t her fault and willing to fight for her. But now, that look only churned my stomach, reminding me of the suffocating, cold, muddy water filling my nose at the bottom of the pond. “Exactly, Bella. Zara and Sophie are right.” Chloe immediately found support, her voice sweet and a bit smug. “I didn’t mean to. Plus… strawberry scent is nice, way better than some people…” She glanced meaningfully at Bella, leaving the sentence unfinished, but the implication was clear. Bella’s face turned green with anger. She covered her nose, pointed at Chloe speechless, stomped her foot in rage, and slammed the door as she stormed out. 4 The three of us were left in the dorm. The strawberry scent had mostly dissipated. Sophie, clearly in a good mood from seeing Bella get owned, smirked and started scrolling on her phone. Chloe, like a proud little peacock, walked to her desk and sat down, carefully adjusting her posture—the hemorrhoid was obviously uncomfortable. She skillfully pulled a bag of chips and a can of Coke from her drawer. With a pop of the tab, she began to eat and drink with satisfaction. Although Chloe was sweet and had a great figure, she loved junk food—spicy, fried, ice-cold. Normally fine, but these were fertilizers for her hemorrhoid’s wild growth. In my past life, seeing Chloe binge like this, I would have worriedly reminded her: “Chloe, eat less of that stuff. It’s bad for… down there.” And she would always whine back: “Just a little bit~” This time? I looked away, opened my laptop, and pretended not to see. Sophie was confused: “Chloe, didn’t you just eat? Why are you eating again?” Before Chloe could feel awkward, I thoughtfully explained for her: “Oh, it doesn’t matter, Sophie. Our Chloe can eat whatever and not gain weight or get acne. It’s a gift others can only envy! We have the money, so eat if you want. Happiness is what matters.” My tone was incredibly sincere. Chloe agreed repeatedly: “Exactly! Only Zara understands me.” The greasy smell of chips mixed with the sugary scent of Coke filled the air. Faintly, a strawberry aroma began to brew. I silently left the room, heading to the supermarket to buy masks. 5 When I returned. Chloe looked at me with concern: “Zara, why are you wearing a mask? Are you sick?” “Yeah, a bit of a cold. Don’t want to infect you guys.” I vaguely changed the subject, shaking the shopping bag in my hand, containing several boxes of masks and a bottle of strong air freshener. “By the way, I heard on the way back that Liam is preparing for grad school exams.” As soon as I said that, Chloe’s eyes lit up, forgetting to chew her chips. Sophie also looked up from her phone screen with interest. I knew they would react this way. Liam was our campus heartthrob, ridiculously handsome. Not only did countless girls have a crush on him, but anyone who passed him by would remember him. After all, in my past life, my dear roommate Chloe killed me for him. Since you like Liam so much, I’ll give you a hand in this life. Sneering internally, I pretended to say casually: “Heard he’s basically living at the library lately. Every day from 1 PM to 9 PM closing. Sigh, handsome and smart, he’s got it all.” “Which floor does he usually go to?” Chloe asked immediately. “I think… the third floor?” I recalled the gossip from my past life. “The seats by the window have good light; he seems to like sitting there.” Chloe’s eyes glazed over, her face flushing slightly, clearly planning her “chance encounter.” Sophie tutted, smiling ambiguously. She turned and messaged me to roast Chloe. “A freak like Chloe who farts strawberries thinks she can bag the heartthrob? Campus belle? More like a joke.” But Sophie, you don’t understand. The heartthrob really loves it! The strawberry scent!

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On a couple’s variety show, I just drew the same number as my boyfriend, only to have it snatched away by a “Little White Flower” (an innocent-acting girl). “Movie King, looks like we’re partners now~” I was about to snatch the ticket back when I saw the bullet screen (live comments) floating by: [Here it comes! Our girl is bravely chasing love and taking down the aloof Movie King. So cute~] [Why is Cynthia Song so blind? Why doesn’t she move aside and let our girl stand next to Movie King Huo?] [I really don’t want to see Cynthia Song, that green tea bitch, standing between the main couple. Can she just die already? I want to see our girl and the Movie King fall in love!] Liam Huo shoved the ticket back into my hand: “Do you not understand first come, first served?” The bullet screen exploded: [Male lead, you tsundere jerk! If you don’t team up with our girl now, you’ll be kneeling on a washboard later!] [I hate it when a green tea girlfriend stands between the main couple! Can Cynthia Song just die?] [Don’t worry everyone, soon the male lead will regret it and beg for our girl’s forgiveness!] I turned to the Little White Flower: “Security, kick her off the show.” 1 The Little White Flower was stunned. The bullet screen exploded too: [Cynthia Song is such a green tea bitch! Using her privilege just to fight our girl for the Movie King! Shameless!] [This kind of girlfriend is so annoying, doing whatever she wants just because she’s the girlfriend. Movie King Huo is suffering with her!] “I signed a contract for this show, you have no right to kick me out!” Ivy Lu stiffened her neck, and the bullet screen laughed: [This unyielding spirit is so cute. Go Ivy, take down the evil supporting actress!] So I’m the evil supporting actress. I sneered: “My right is that the director listens to me.” Seeing the director actually coming over to kick her out, Ivy Lu’s face turned pale. She actually looked at Liam Huo: “Liam…” Liam Huo paused. He didn’t seem to understand why this new Little White Flower was so clingy. So he turned his head and ignored her. [Male lead, you’ll regret this!! Later you’ll know how good our girl is!] [Our girl is so brave. If it were me, I wouldn’t even dare ask for a WeChat from my idol, but she went straight for it.] [That’s why she’s the goddess of pure love. Otherwise, how could the Movie King be moved? That green tea Cynthia Song doesn’t deserve him!] “Ms. Song…” During the break, the director approached me with an apologetic smile: “Ivy Lu offended you just now, I’ve already scolded her. “But she was squeezed in by that person, you see…” I frowned: “That person?” The director nodded. I pinched the bridge of my nose: “Watch her. If she acts up again, I don’t care if that person agrees or not, kick her out immediately!” “Understood! Understood!” The director bowed and scraped as he left. “Wait!” I called him back: “Did the air-shipped package arrive?” “It arrived! I’ll take you there now!” 2 Liam Huo and I are in a secret relationship. This couple’s variety show was intended to be a warm-up for our official announcement. Today also happened to be his birthday. Liam Huo cares a lot about his image. Three months ago, I collaborated with a brand that once dressed the Napoleon family to custom-make a European vintage-style shirt for him. But as soon as I arrived, the bullet screen blocked my view: [Ahhh, our girl dressing like this is going to kill the male lead! What man can resist this!] [Our girl is a little seductress, kiss kiss~] [Liam Huo is so lucky boohoo…] Ivy Lu was wearing an oversized shirt, sleeves so long her hands didn’t show, drooping down. But the collar was cut low, revealing half her chest. Seeing me walk over with Liam Huo, Ivy Lu looked past me directly at him and stuck out her tongue: “Oops, I seem to have opened the wrong package…” [Hahaha, our girl’s little scheme. Taking down the male lead with just a finger~] [So capable, our girl. I wish I was as brave as her. Go Ivy, defeat that green tea girlfriend Cynthia Song!] [Only the closest person can open packages. The male lead will be begging our girl to open his packages later~] [Um… wasn’t this shirt custom-made by the second female lead? I remember she stayed up late designing the pattern herself…] [So what if she ordered it? A mistress is still a mistress no matter how much she does!] The director looked at me, face pale. I didn’t speak. I stepped forward and SLAP! struck her across the face. [Holy crap, that green tea Cynthia Song dared to hit our girl!] The bullet screen exploded. Ivy Lu fell directly to the ground. [Stop it ahhh! Cynthia Song, you green tea bitch, you’ll regret this! When the male lead chases his wife back, it’ll be your death date!] Chase his wife? Heh. That depends on who he is! I sneered, raising my hand high to strike again. But a hand caught mine firmly. I turned, looking at Liam Huo, frowning: “You feel sorry for her?” He held my hand in his palm, gently rubbing the hand swollen from hitting too hard, and blew on it: “Don’t hurt yourself.” He looked down coldly: “I’ll handle this kind of woman for you.” He gave the director a look, put his arm around my waist, and took me away without looking back. The bullet screen exploded again: [I’m so mad! Even though I know the male lead will chase his wife later, seeing the early angst is so frustrating!] [Crying, Liam Huo doesn’t deserve our girl’s passionate love!!] [Don’t be angry everyone, the male lead will spoil the female lead later. Cynthia Song, the mistress, will be offline soon!] [For the future sugar, I can endure now…] I paused. I’m not someone who judges those around me based on a few words from others. But I really hate Ivy Lu. And I really hate these bullet screens. So I turned around: “Kick Ivy Lu off the show!” The bullet screen went crazy as expected: [Ahhh I can’t take it anymore! Can Cynthia Song just die now! I want to see the main couple’s sweet romance!!] [I hate the mistress the most. It’s you delaying the main couple, yet you dare to act up!] [Just waiting to see when Cynthia Song dies.] I sneered. They don’t know that I was born rebellious. They want to see me separated from Liam Huo, want to see me fall from grace. I’m determined not to let them have their way! 3 Liam Huo also posted on Weibo. It was a photo of the shirt Cynthia Song wore today, with the collar cut: [Girlfriend’s gift was cut, annoying…] Netizens were immediately confused: [Girlfriend? Wait! When did Cynthia Song and the Movie King get together!] [Great, great! No wonder the Movie King suddenly took a couple’s variety show, he’s bringing family!!] [So the paparazzi leak about Ivy Lu cutting Cynthia Song’s shirt wasn’t fake? Holy crap! Although she has more traffic than Cynthia Song, interfering in someone else’s relationship is disgusting!] I happily scrolled through the netizens’ comments. But the bullet screen in front of me was jumping with anxiety. They angrily scolded the netizens for being blind, unable to distinguish that I was the mistress. I sneered— People who only dare to hide behind screens and ship random couples always think they have the right to dictate everything. With Liam Huo leading the way, public opinion on Ivy Lu took a sharp turn for the worse. Every day, her inbox was filled with messages “greeting” her family. Netizens always have unstoppable malice towards mistresses. Ivy Lu hasn’t appeared in public for a long time. One day, the director hesitantly found me. I saw the issue at a glance: “Is it about Ivy Lu?” He nodded hurriedly: “That gentleman heard about you kicking her off the show. He came personally, saying he wants to add another hundred million investment, hoping things won’t blow up too big.” I frowned: “Why is he so annoying?” The director smiled apologetically: “He said future collaborations with you, Ms. Song, can have a 30% discount.” I was moved. After a moment of thought, I nodded: “Fine, Ivy Lu can stay. I can help with the PR.” The director’s eyes lit up. “However.” I changed the subject: “She is not allowed to participate in any variety show interactions.” “Understood! Understood!” 4 The new venue was ready. On the day of filming, I put on beautiful makeup and rushed to the set. But upon arrival, I found all the camera positions originally for me were removed. Replaced by Ivy Lu as Liam Huo’s partner. I frowned and questioned the director: “Who allowed you to switch partners last minute? Didn’t I say Ivy Lu isn’t allowed to participate in recording!” “It was me.” A familiar voice came from behind. I turned. Ivy Lu was holding Liam Huo’s arm, a triumphant smile on her lips. “Liam Huo…” I frowned. “Cynthia, I’ve decided. In this variety show, Ivy and I will be the couple team. “You… go back.” I thought I misheard. From spotting him when he was still studying at the drama academy, sponsoring him until he became the Movie King, he never dared to give me orders like this. “Why?” I was genuinely curious and incredulous. He frowned, looking at me with almost disgust: “You brought this on yourself.” A video was thrown in front of me. I finally understood what Liam Huo had experienced.

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I laughed when I saw my biological father posting from a nursing home: “My daughter is holding a grudge about being beaten as a child, what should I do?” It was 3 AM on the other side of the ocean. Insomniac, I was scrolling through my phone mechanically when I spotted a familiar profile picture. It was my dad. I checked the IP address. Confirmed. The post included a photo of the nursing home’s gray, peeling walls: Worked hard to put my daughter through her PhD, only for her to run off to a foreign country and never return. I’ve been paralyzed for ten years. My only wish is to see her one last time. Begging netizens for help. My daughter’s info is: !@#$%^ Seeing that he posted my name and address from grad school, I laughed again. He will never find me. 1 When I was five, my mom ran away. She left decisively. It was raining that day, and it felt colder inside the house than out. She squatted down and hugged me, her bones pressing painfully against me. Her voice trembled uncontrollably: “Yingying… Mom isn’t running away, I just can’t survive here anymore… I’m sorry… I can’t take care of you…” She didn’t say, “I’ll come back for you when I’m settled.” She just said, “I can’t survive.” At five years old, I truly understood what “despair” meant for the first time. She left almost empty-handed, except for a small cloth bag. I later found out she took the last bit of savings we had—my dad wasn’t “famous” back then, just a washed-up calligrapher with a temper far bigger than his reputation, drunk all day long. My dad, a contemporary celebrity? A calligrapher? Heh. That came later. In my hazy childhood memories, his “fame” was built bit by bit alongside the sound of shattering liquor bottles and my mother’s screams. His calligraphy was famous for its wild cursive style, and the man himself was the same—unhinged. Like, genuinely maniacal. My nightmare started long before he gained that hollow fame. He always beat me. His tool of choice was “elegant”—a thin, flexible bamboo switch. It was meant for rapping my knuckles and palms, but when his temper flared, it became an indiscriminate weapon. His reasons were “justified”: “You’re a calligrapher’s daughter! Your writing looks like chicken scratch? You’re an embarrassment!” He would pinch my wrist, thin from malnutrition, and bring the switch down with a whoosh. A red welt would instantly rise on my knuckles, burning with pain. Does a five-year-old understand calligraphy? Or chicken scratch? I only knew pain. I only knew fear. When he beat me, he usually drank a little to “heighten the mood.” The smell of cheap white liquor mixed with his foul breath was the most familiar and terrifying scent of my childhood. Alcohol was the catalyst for his violence, making the bamboo switch fall faster and harder. My life consisted of two things: practicing calligraphy and cooking. Calligraphy was the excuse for beatings; cooking was the reason for beatings. At five, I couldn’t reach the stove, so I had to stand on a small stool. At five, I could expertly make vinegar-soaked peanuts—vinegar covering the peanuts, a sprinkle of sugar, a few drops of sesame oil, soaked overnight for flavor. I could fry small fish—oil piping hot, fish coated in thin batter, sizzling until golden and crispy. I could stir-fry peanuts—the heat was hardest to control; too much and they burned, too little and the skin stayed raw. You had to stir constantly and remove them from heat the moment you heard the crackling sound. These were his favorite snacks to go with liquor. But he was never satisfied. “Too salty!” “Too bland!” “Overcooked!” “Peanut skins not rubbed clean!” “Tastes like raw oil! Are you feeding pigs?” Nitpicking, harsh criticism, accompanied by the clang of chopsticks hitting the bowl, or simply… the crash of dishes smashing on the floor. We really had no money back then. The money my mom took was our last resort. But he would never shortchange himself. Liquor had to be drunk. Snacks had to be served. No money? Then save it from my mouth. He could always find reasons to make me skip meals. “Writing like that and you have the face to eat?” “Cooking fit for dogs, go hungry and reflect!” “Talking back? Don’t even think about dinner!” … Hunger became my most loyal companion. The burning emptiness in my stomach was more persistent and tormenting than the sting of the bamboo switch. I often felt dizzy from hunger, staring at the leftover peanuts and fish on the table, mouth watering like crazy, yet I didn’t dare reach for even the crumbs that fell into the cracks of the table. I was so thin as a child, truly looking like a malnourished turnip. A thin neck supporting a big head, arms and legs like sticks. Ribs protruding clearly, skin pale with a sickly tint from lack of sunlight. Walking outside, a strong wind could literally blow me away. 2 Of course, my dad didn’t pop out of a stone. He had roots. I had a grandpa and a grandma. My grandpa was also a “calligrapher,” the self-proclaimed kind who spent his life circling the county cultural center. He and my dad were natural enemies. Every time they met, sparks flew. My dad called grandpa’s writing stiff and lifeless, like “tracing a mold”; grandpa mocked my dad’s cursive as “ghost scribbles,” saying he “didn’t even have a proper job, just acting crazy.” At the dinner table, they could argue red-faced over the stroke order of a single character, chopsticks clanging against bowls. Their pitiful “father-son bond” dissolved entirely in the flying spittle of their rivalry. My grandma was completely different from grandpa. She was a genuine rural woman, illiterate, with big hands and feet, her mind entirely focused on “carrying on the family line.” Her biggest regret in life was probably that my mom didn’t birth a boy. I pieced this together later, like assembling broken porcelain, from her fragmented mutterings and the way she looked at me—”A girl is okay too, a girl is okay too,” said with the reluctance of swallowing bitter medicine. But as a child, how could I understand these complexities? Back then, besides Uncle Lin’s visits (more on that later), I looked forward to grandpa and grandma visiting. Because whenever they came, the house seemed under a spell. The demon dad who whipped me, hurled insults, and starved me instantly vanished. Replaced by a gentle, refined, even somewhat “filial” man. He would put on an apron (impossible usually), squeeze into the kitchen where I served him in fear daily, and whip up a few decent dishes. At the table, he would smile and serve food to grandpa and grandma, and even—this terrified me most—put some in my bowl, saying, “Yingying, eat more, you’re growing.” Whenever this happened, I would tremble uncontrollably. Not from emotion, but bone-deep fear. I knew that behind the eyes filled with “love” for his parents, his peripheral vision was locking onto me like a cold probe. He was silently warning: Play your part, you little bastard. Dare to eat an extra bite, dare to say a wrong word, and the consequences… Eating felt like torture. The aroma of food was like poison gas, tempting my empty stomach, but I could only take small bites like the most reserved lady, picking at the few grains of rice in my bowl. I didn’t dare look at the glistening braised pork, nor touch the vegetables dad served. Because I knew if I dared to “eat too full,” the moment the door closed behind grandpa and grandma, he would beat me until I threw up everything I just ate, along with yellow-green bile. The two or three years after mom left were when I was most fragile and delusional. Seeing grandma occasionally spoil my uncle’s little son, a faint, begging hope rose in my heart. Once, when grandpa and grandma were alone in the living room, I crept over like a little mouse, tugging at grandma’s rough shirt, voice barely audible: “Grandma… can I… can I live with you and grandpa?” Grandma froze, looking at me with wrinkled, cloudy eyes. There was no warmth I expected, only a mix of awkwardness and… impatience. Her rough hand patted my head, not gently, more like dusting off dirt: “Silly Yingying, what nonsense. Grandma is tired enough with your little brother, how can I handle another one? Stay with your dad, he’s a big calligrapher, has a future. Serve him well, be obedient.” Serve. Obedient. These two words were like cold iron nails, instantly sealing my pitiful hope in a coffin. What froze my blood even more was that she turned around and told dad about my “senseless” request like it was gossip. The result? No suspense. As soon as grandpa and grandma left, the familiar bamboo switch came whistling down. Heavier and fiercer than usual. Dad roared through gritted teeth while beating me: “Wings hardened? Want to run? Just like your bitch mother? Dream on!” Exhausted from beating, panting heavily, he looked at my curled-up body like trash. Suddenly, a grotesque smile appeared, mixing cruelty and “warmth.” He said: “Yingying, don’t rush. When you grow a bit bigger, daddy will break your legs for you. Then, daddy will make you the prettiest little crutches, gold-rimmed, so you can never, ever run away.” “Gold-rimmed crutches.” This sentence became my deepest childhood nightmare. It was scarier than hunger, more painful than the bamboo switch. It hung over my head like a curse, making every thought of growing up accompanied by bone-chilling terror. I would wake up screaming in the night, touching my shins, imagining the sound of them snapping. 3 In this boundless fear and despair, Uncle Lin appeared. He was dad’s high school classmate, supposedly doing some small business, but loved pretending to be cultured, especially hanging around the “calligrapher” circle. He also loved to drink, and could drink a lot. So he became an infrequent but regular visitor. Uncle Lin’s arrival was like a drowning person grabbing a… straw? No, back then I thought it was a life-saving log. Because when Uncle Lin was there, dad absolutely wouldn’t beat me. He would put on that gentle mask like he did with grandpa and grandma. He would smile and greet Uncle Lin, discussing calligraphy, current events, toasting each other. He would even extraordinarily allow me to sit quietly on a small stool, no writing, no rushing to the kitchen—as long as I stayed absolutely silent, like background decoration. That temporary, fake “safety” was heaven to me. I could briefly escape the threat of the switch, escape my father’s sinister gaze, and even secretly, greedily breathe air free of cheap liquor and violence. So, I started having new “hopes.” Not the illusory protection of grandparents, but the figure of Uncle Lin, smelling of tobacco and cheap cologne, appearing at my door. It meant that at least until he left, I could breathe, my bones would be intact, my stomach wouldn’t cramp from fear. But back then, a child starved like a turnip, covered in wounds, craving a tiny bit of safety, how could I understand that in the shadow of some “protection” lay things filthier and deadlier than the switch and hunger… The candy Uncle Lin smilingly handed over… His hand seemingly casually landing on my shoulder, my back… That temperature was no warmer than dad’s switch. It was just the prelude to another form of torture. Looking back now, labeling Uncle Lin an “absolute villain” seems a bit simplistic. Human nature, especially the rotten kind, is often coated in sticky sugar. He did “teach” me some things. Things that at the time even seemed “life-saving.” He was like a mentor dispensing “survival skills” at the edge of the abyss. He said my look was too “raw,” like an untamed wolf cub, full of wild vigilance and hatred. This wouldn’t do; it was too conspicuous. “Yingying, you have to learn to hide,” he lit a cigarette, his eyes looking particularly “deep” in the smoke. “Like calligraphy, too much exposed tip makes it floaty. Hide those things, under your gaze, behind your smile.” He called this “concealing the tip.” He also said my speech was too “blunt,” like a hard stone, never saying anything soft, let alone praising others. “Sweet words don’t cost anything,” he guided patiently. “People like your dad especially eat this up. Praise his writing, praise his drinking capacity, praise whatever.” Honestly, my mind was blank back then. “Praise”? This word was too foreign to me. In my world, there was only nitpicking, blame, and the whistle of bamboo. I never knew the word “good” could be followed by other words. Uncle Lin even taught me to read. Not the boring square characters from school, but “Three Hundred Tang Poems” smelling of alcohol and tobacco. He sat me on his lap, tapping the page word by word with rough fingers, drawling: “Moonlight—before—the bed—” I was forced to follow along. The strange rhythm and words fell like bizarre seeds into my barren brain. Before even stepping into preschool, I recognized many characters and could recite fifty complete poems clearly. This “knowledge,” like stolen candy, was bitter yet畸形ly sweet. It did give me a pathological “superiority” over my peers. 4 I carefully tried Uncle Lin’s “survival rules.” Once, dad was splashing ink in the study again. Before, I had to wait for him to call “Grind ink!” like calling a dog before daring to approach. That day, I took a deep breath, walked over voluntarily, picked up the cold ink stick, and ground it finely, circle by circle. The ink dissolved, black and thick, like the fear in my heart. When he finished, I stared at the cursive that still looked like clawing demons to me, squeezed out a tiny voice with all my strength, and said dryly: “Dad… writes really well.” The air froze for a second. I could almost hear my blood flowing backward, waiting for the familiar switch or slap. But, nothing. My dad turned around. That face flushed with alcohol showed me a “smile” for the first time. Though it was mostly smugness and condescending charity. “Heh,” he snorted, smelling of booze, “At least you little thing know what’s good!” That night, maybe he wasn’t that drunk, or maybe that dry “good” really pleased him. Miraculously, he didn’t beat me. He even fished a coin out of his pocket and threw it at my feet like tossing to a beggar after finishing his last drink. “Take it, buy candy.” It was fifty cents. The coin lay cold on the floor. I squatted to pick it up. Touching the metal, I felt not joy, but a huge sense of absurdity and cold confirmation— So, what Uncle Lin taught really “worked.” So, wearing a hypocritical mask and saying insincere words could buy peace, even… fifty cents. I clutched the dusty coin, palms sweating cold. An indescribable nausea and sorrow overwhelmed the tiny relief of survival. However, the devil’s gifts are never stable. Soon after, dad participated in a supposedly important city calligraphy competition. He came back like an enraged brown bear reeking of alcohol. He smashed glasses, kicked over stools, cursed the judges for being blind, claimed the competition was rigged, and said everyone who didn’t appreciate his “genius” was worse than pigs and dogs. The study was filled with the silence before a storm. I shrank in the corner, looking at his face distorted by rage and alcohol, remembering Uncle Lin’s words. Watching him finish venting on a stack of paper, survival instinct drove me to open my mouth again, voice shaking like a leaf in autumn wind: “Dad… don’t be mad… you, you write… really well…” “Good?! Good my ass!” Before I finished, a foot in a hard-soled shoe, wrapped in thunderous rage and alcohol fumes, kicked me hard in the stomach! Agony! Like being pierced by a red-hot iron rod! Before I could even scream, I flew like a broken sack, back slamming into the door frame, then sliding to the cold floor. Internal organs shifted, vision went black, only the churning cramps and suffocation remained in my stomach. He didn’t even look at me, cursing as he slammed the door to the inner room. I curled up by the door like a dying shrimp, cold sweat instantly soaking my thin clothes. After a long time, when the sharp pain turned into a dull, pervasive torture, I dared to lift my shirt slowly. On my stomach, a terrifying bruise was appearing at a visible speed, edges dotted with purple-red broken blood vessels.

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3 AM. The pet camera in the living room suddenly spoke. “Mimi is having fun!” “Mimi is having fun!” This is the automated alert the camera sends when it detects the cat’s movement. But my blood ran cold. Because the kitten was in the corner of my bedroom, watching me quietly. The thing outside… wasn’t my cat. 1 The camera stubbornly continued its broadcast. “Mimi is having fun…” “Mimi is having fun…” … The gentle female voice sounded exceptionally terrifying in the silent night. Since 9 PM, the power in the apartment had been out. No notice from property management. The repairman hadn’t shown up. With my severe nearsightedness, darkness meant blindness. Stripped of any sense of security, I dared not move. Faced with this eerie scene, my first instinct was to play dead. I lay stiff on the bed. Eyes fixed on the closed bedroom door. Praying it was just a glitch. Sure enough. The voice in the living room paused for a few seconds, then fell silent. Like it was just a hallucination. My hands tingled with relief. By the moonlight. I reached out to the kitten in the corner, signaling it to come to me. But this time, the kitten didn’t move. It stayed frozen, staring at the closed bedroom door. And meowed. “Meow~” The next second. A knock on the bedroom door. Thud. Thud thud. My scalp went numb. Every nerve snapped tight. A raspy voice drifted through the crack. “What a cute kitty…” “I knew you were in there.” Someone broke in. The thought hit me, and I shivered violently. Terrified, I scrambled out of bed. The cat was too far; I couldn’t grab it. I reached for my phone to call 911. Only to find that because the cat chewed through the charger last night, I had 3% battery left. The moment the screen lit up. It dropped to 1%. The next second. “Shutting down in 30 seconds.” And just then. The phone froze on the camera feed interface. A face beyond recognition. Because he was pressed right up against the lens. I could see clearly. Countless burns and scratches crisscrossed that face. A pair of bloodshot eyes stared deathly at the screen. As if he knew I was watching him from the other side. He opened a bloody mouth and grinned menacingly at me. I shook uncontrollably. Hiding in the closet, I frantically swiped the back button. Trying to make that life-saving call. But I failed. The screen went black. As the last light in the closet died. The knocking stopped. The next second. A metallic scrape against the doorknob. Bang. A heavy thud blossomed on the door. One. Two. … 2 I shivered in the closet. I knew clearly. The bedroom door was just flimsy plywood. He’d break through in minutes. The kitten in the corner didn’t seem to understand the danger. Still meowing at the banging door. I screamed internally: Mimi, Mimi, stop meowing, stop meowing. If he finds you, you really won’t survive. Before I could react. Through the crack, I saw. A large hole chopped through the bedroom door. A withered, grotesque hand reached in. Easily unlocking the door. A dark figure stumbled toward the kitten in the corner. The kitten, sensing no danger, meowed softly at the shadow. I covered my mouth. Watching the impending horror, eyes splitting with rage. Tears fell uncontrollably. I prayed for a shred of humanity in this person. But I saw the bloodstained machete in his hand. Raised high against the moonlight. And brought down viciously. Squelch. The sound of flesh being mercilessly split in two. Through the closet crack. A drop of blood splashed onto my face. Running down with my tears. I never dreamed the kitten I adopted a month ago… Would be butchered like this. Back turned to me. The figure in black hacked tirelessly. Again and again, like chopping ribs. Venting on the kitten’s corpse. Seeing the maniac immersed in the thrill of slaughter. I knew this was my chance. I covered my mouth, forcing silence. Gently pushed the closet door open. In despair, only one thought remained. Run! Suppressing my pounding heart. I ran to the bedroom door. But couldn’t help glancing back. In the pile of gore. Mimi’s little head looked at me despairingly. When our eyes met, it hadn’t died yet. Gasping “huk huk” from its torn throat. It still wanted to call to me. 3 Tears rained down. Anger mixed with confusion. I’d never seen this person. Never had a grudge with such a lunatic. Why chase me into my home to kill me? Not even sparing an innocent cat! Thinking this, I tiptoed into the living room. My hand touched the front doorknob. The next second, I was yanked back by my hair and thrown to the ground. Sharp pain in my chest. A foot stomped hard on my ribs. I struggled to open my eyes. Blood covered my face from the impact, blurring my vision. I could only see a grotesque man looming over me. Face long and sharp. Scars crawling all over, twisted and mad. “Say goodbye to your slut cat!” A hollow-eyed kitten head appeared before me. The man wore a smile of ultimate excitement, like he’d done something great. He raised the cat head. And threw it in my face. Mimi was a two-month-old kitten I adopted last month. Her mom was a stray in the complex. Gentle personality. Often fed by residents. There were many neutered strays in the complex. But for some reason. Since last month. The strays vanished overnight. Gone without a trace. At first, we thought property management took them away. But no notice, no admission. Until one day. In the gazebo where Mimi’s mom often hung out. A neighbor found a mangled cat corpse. Then a second, a third. Every stray was found dead in its favorite spot. Cruelly butchered. Pregnant cats cut open alive. Unborn fetuses lined up. Spelling out words. “SLUT CAT”!!! And now, I felt my fate would be no different. The next second. The machete swung ruthlessly at my face. 4 Gasping in despair. I opened my eyes. The familiar sound rang out. The eerie electronic broadcast: “Mimi is having fun—” My pupils dilated. I was back to one minute before the break-in. The fear of death reoccupied my brain. Looking at Mimi in the corner. I scooped her up without hesitation. Last time, Mimi’s meow led the killer to my room. If she stays quiet this time. Maybe I can stall. My apartment has three rooms. The other two are locked for easier cleaning. If I lock the bedroom too. The killer can’t instantly tell which room I’m in from three identical doors. My spare charger is in the living room corner. Maybe I can gamble. Bet he doesn’t break my door first. Slip out while he’s busy, grab the charger, rush out with Mimi and a power bank to charge. And call the police. Thinking this, I tried to steady my breathing. Gently opened the closet, put the kitten inside. Ensuring the closet door muffles any sound. Keeping everything silent in this quiet home. In the farthest room, I accidentally left a Bluetooth speaker. Now it came in handy. Last 3% battery. I turned off the camera feed early. Quickly connected to the Bluetooth. Started playing Love Trading at max volume. “Love isn’t something you want to buy!!!” “Buy if you can buy!!!” “Let me open my eyes!!!” “Let me understand!!!” “Let go of your love~~~” … The deafening music filled the house. Mustering courage. I cracked the bedroom door open. Sure enough. The intense music drew the killer’s full attention. Covering his ears. He rushed to that room with his knife. Hacking at the door. Bang bang bang. Deep breath. Now! I opened the closet, grabbed the cat and the power bank, and sprinted to the living room corner. Luckily. The blackout hid my movements. Until I pulled the cable from the drawer. I felt my whole body relax. Behind me, the killer hacked tirelessly at the bedroom door (Note: The text says bedroom door here, but context implies the dummy room door. Assuming dummy room based on plan). Oblivious to me opening the front door. I pressed the handle, opened the door, and rushed out. The next second. A sharp knife slammed into my chest. Mimi in my arms was pierced through the belly. Blood sprayed. Splattering my face. “Stupid bitch, thought you were smart?” So. There was more than one killer. The man in front of me twisted the knife with a grin. Mimi’s body was skewered. He swung his arm, flinging her against the wall. She fell heavily, shattered. Tears streamed down my face. Too scared to even cry out loud. The killer shouted into the house. “Stop chopping, the slut cat ran out again!” The killer inside broke through the door. Turned off the speaker. In the pitch-black night, only my gasping breath remained. And the weak mewling of the dying kitten. “Why…” “Why do this to me…” Legs weak. I knelt, holding the kitten’s corpse, breaking down. Witnessing its death twice. Experiencing my own death twice. My nerves were snapping. I wailed like a madwoman. The killer wasted no words. Grabbed my hair, yanked my head back, exposing my neck. And stabbed viciously again.

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My best friend started a group chat to sell fruits. Feeling sorry for her as a single mom, I often bought from her and even proactively introduced her to new customers. One day, a new intern ordered ten pounds of oranges and directly transferred $19.90 in the group chat. I was stunned and messaged her privately: “The oranges are $29 a box, you’re $10 short.” The intern sent back a confused emoji. And then she sent me screenshots of her previous purchases. “Sis, I’ve always bought them for $19.90, how could it be $29?” I was completely dumbfounded. 1 When I saw that message, I was just about to pay Linda. If it were before, I would have questioned the intern’s character before suspecting Linda of lying to me. But now, the intern not only sent chat logs but also attached payment records from the past few months. My brain exploded. My first reaction was that it was fake, but then I realized the intern had no reason to lie to me. Looking at the enthusiastic Linda in front of me, she suddenly felt like a stranger. Regardless of who was lying, I was going to get to the bottom of this today. I’m a straightforward person; it saves time and solves problems fastest. So I immediately asked: “How much were these oranges again?” Linda’s smile froze for a second, then she chided playfully: “Same old price, of course. With our relationship, are you afraid I’ll rip you off?” Her vague answer made a lump form in my throat, annoying me to no end. Especially seeing that box of ambiguous oranges on the ground, my anger surged. “How much are these oranges, $19.90 or $29?” My voice wasn’t quiet, and people at the stall looked over. Someone immediately chimed in: “Did the boss raise prices?” “It was $19.90 for ten pounds yesterday, how is it $29 today?” “That’s changing too fast.” Saying that, they turned to leave. Linda rushed to explain. “Don’t listen to her nonsense, no price hike, still $19.90 for ten pounds.” She didn’t forget to glare at me while saying it. Now I understood everything. I kicked the oranges far away. “They’re all the same oranges, why are mine $10 more expensive? Are the ones you sell me gold-plated?” I thought Linda would explain properly, but her face changed faster than flipping a book. Her mouth drooped, and tears flowed. “Zoe, how did I offend you for you to treat me like this?” “I know I’m not as rich as you. You’re a white-collar worker in a big company, and I’m just a poor stall owner. But I have a conscience too. You helped me, I know, so every fruit I give you is hand-picked. Since I started selling fruits, your family has never lacked any. If you don’t want to pay, just say so. We’ve been friends for so many years, I won’t say anything, but you can’t insult me like this!” As soon as she finished, her daughter Wendy rushed out. Wendy stood in front of me timidly: “Auntie, please pay my mom for the fruit.” In an instant, my head throbbed. Passersby were pointing at me. Clearly, I wasn’t the one lying, but I wished the ground would swallow me up. Intense shame made me want to retreat, but the next second, Wendy grabbed my thigh. “Auntie, you make so much money every day, why do you want to cheat us out of a few dozen dollars for fruit?” “My mom works really hard to save money for my school, please pay us back.” Hearing this, I gasped in shock. Aside from the chill in my heart, I felt fear. They say children don’t lie, but no one said children can lie without blinking an eye! Seeing the passersby ready to rush up and serve justice, I swallowed hard and said: “They’re the same oranges. Your mom sells them to others for $19.90 for ten pounds, why is it $29 for ten pounds for me?” Before I could finish, Wendy burst into tears. “Every time my mom gives you oranges, she also gives a lot of other fruits. All those added up are way more than $29. Every time, mom says not to let you know, saying family can take a loss.” This was too damaging. Plus, coming from a child’s mouth, I instantly became the root of all evil. Passersby who didn’t know the truth thought I was a villain taking advantage and not paying. “Looks decent, didn’t expect her to be so despicable!” “Exactly, it’s not easy for a widow and orphan running a fruit stall, and she cheats them out of their hard-earned money!” Hearing this made my liver hurt from anger. I just wanted justice and clarity, how did the dirty water end up on me? And that Linda, I spent a lot on her usually. My husband’s company holiday benefits were all bought from her, and my gifts for holidays were pre-ordered from her. And the result? I’m just a damn doormat. Thinking of being treated like a fool because of my kindness, I wanted to slap myself. I’m kind, but I’m not a pushover! 2 “We’ve been neighbors for so many years, don’t you all know what kind of person I am?” There wasn’t much turnover in the community. Some people had lived here from being toddlers to getting married, so many knew each other. Hearing this, Linda’s face changed. She stepped forward to say something, but I beat her to it. I deliberately pointed at the clothes on Wendy and said: “You remember I bought these clothes for you, right?” I was sure she wouldn’t dare lie because the shop owner who sold the clothes was in the crowd. Linda gritted her teeth, “So what if you bought them? Do you want to mooch my fruit for free just for some cheap clothes worth a few dozen bucks?” Now the shop owner wasn’t having it. She grabbed Wendy’s collar and said: “A few dozen bucks wouldn’t even cover the cost of my clothes!” “The workmanship and texture of these clothes start at a small thousand ($1000+), okay?” At this moment, I was extremely grateful that my daughter insisted on buying this outfit that day. Back then, Wendy looked at it eagerly too, saying things like “it gets dirty too easily, I don’t like it.” Poor kids mature early. At the same age, my daughter clamored to be a princess. And Wendy, like the old me, could only say she didn’t like it contrary to her heart. My heart ached instantly. So I gritted my teeth and bought two sets, as healing for my past self. I thought since they were practically family, I shouldn’t favor one over the other too much. Afterward, to prevent Linda from overthinking, I deliberately said they were cheap street stall goods. I didn’t expect this to become the key to overturning the case today. I mocked: “I even bought clothes worth a thousand bucks, would I care about your ten or eight bucks!” In the end, of course, I won completely, and naturally, completely tore my face with Linda. She glared at me fiercely: “I didn’t expect you to be so petty and calculative!” I laughed out of anger: “Not wanting to be taken advantage of by you is being petty?” “Then isn’t your arbitrary pricing malicious fraud?” “You!” Linda trembled with anger, gnashing her teeth when she spoke, “Zoe, let’s wait and see!” “Hmph.” I sneered, “Who’s waiting and seeing with you? Spit out all the money you cheated from me, or I’ll call the police for fraud!” Of course, she didn’t give it to me in the end. Mainly because I was in a hurry to pick up my daughter from tutoring class and didn’t have time to tangle with her. 3 When my husband came home at night, I immediately told him and our daughter that I wanted to cut ties with Linda. Originally, I thought adults’ matters shouldn’t affect children, but Wendy’s lying really shocked me. If my daughter got corrupted too, it would be a huge loss. After coaxing my daughter to sleep, I hugged my husband and cried about the injustice today. “I am angry, but I am more hurt.” “I treated Linda with all my heart, how did I get this ending?” “I don’t lack that money, but I just can’t get over it.” My husband held me in his arms and coaxed softly: “I know, I know.” “You just feel that your sincerity was betrayed and want justice for yourself. But what if you get justice? You exposed her true colors today, she will definitely earn less in the future. If you ask for the money back, what if she takes revenge on you?” “She dares!” I said angrily. “Why wouldn’t she dare?” My husband continued: “As the old saying goes, cutting off someone’s wealth is like killing their parents. Plus, the economy is bad now. What if she gets desperate and takes revenge on you or our daughter?” “No way, right?” Even though I said that, I started to have cold feet. But thinking of my sincerity feeding the dogs, I felt I couldn’t let it go. “Don’t be angry. Isn’t there a saying? The happy ones yield. Our family is so happy, why bother with someone over a few dozen bucks? Besides, spending a few hundred bucks to see someone’s true colors is better than paying a higher price later, right?” I understood the logic, but my heart just couldn’t let it go. Plus, after such a scene, living in the same community… Looking down and seeing each other every day, it was so awkward. Seeing I was still unhappy, my husband patted my back and said: “Don’t be angry, I’ll tell you some good news.” “What good news?” “I got promoted, logistics director, salary doubled. We can move to a big house then, and you won’t have to face these annoying things.” This was truly the best news I heard. I hugged my husband and kissed him twice, “Hubby, I love you so much.” Another sleepless night passed. 4 I thought life would calm down from there, but unexpectedly, a few days later, Linda came knocking on my door. Through the peephole, I didn’t even want to open the door. I just pretended no one was home, but who knew my phone would ring the next second. The piercing sound made it awkward both inside and outside the door. Linda shouted loudly, “Zoe, I know you’re home. Wendy and I came specifically to apologize to you. I also brought you newly arrived fruits. From now on, your family won’t have to pay for fruits, and I’ll deliver them to your door personally.” Her words were really ugly. Was I after these ten pounds of oranges? I thought I would never open the door even if it killed me, but the neighbors couldn’t stand Linda’s noise anymore. Helplessly, I could only open the door. “Zoe, you finally opened the door. These are newly arrived oranges, try them quickly.” Her act of being a good sister made me sick. But you don’t hit a smiling person. Plus, remembering my husband’s principle of the happy one yielding yesterday, I directly took twenty bucks from the shoe cabinet and threw it at her. “I went to the Chinese medicine doctor yesterday, and he said eating too much fruit makes the heart cold and body chill. I dare not eat your fruit anymore.” I was direct. If she had any shame, she should have scrammed immediately. Who knew she seemed not to understand human language and put on an act of doing it for my own good again. “That’s just nonsense. Eating more fruit is good for your body, don’t listen to that.” Too lazy to listen to her nonsense, I responded perfunctorily and pushed her out. As a result, Linda not only didn’t leave but started asking if I was still angry about yesterday. I didn’t want to lie, but I didn’t want to talk to her even more, so I tried to close the door. Who knew she started to be relentless, saying: “Our anger is our business, why don’t you let others buy my fruit?” I completely lost patience, hands on hips, questioning: “Make yourself clear, who stopped others from buying fruit from you?” Linda rolled her eyes at me, “You, of course!” She said with certainty: “Before, when people asked you about fruit in Moments and groups, you replied immediately. These past few days, not only did you not reply in time, but you even ruined my big company orders.” When Linda first started selling fruit, business was bleak. To help her get business, I pulled people everywhere to create groups, posting ads in the group every day, reserving orders. I even discussed with my husband to change his company’s fruit benefits purchase to Linda. For this, he quarreled with me countless times, but my attitude remained unchanged, just one sentence: I’m helping her. But how did she treat me? Selling to others for $19.90, selling to me for $29. I accepted how you treated me today, my bad luck for being deserving, but what right do you have to treat everyone like this? What do you take everyone’s kindness for! Seeing she didn’t speak, I grabbed her collar directly and roared: “Speak! Tell everyone what you take everyone’s kindness for!” Linda had long been annoyed by my questioning. Plus, I listed her crimes one by one, she was too lazy to even pretend. She pushed me aside directly: “Are you done yet? Did I beg you to help me? Or did I beg you to buy my fruit? Business isn’t business if it’s not black-hearted. So what if I charged you ten bucks more? Isn’t it because you have too much money and have to show off? If you didn’t take it out, would I know you have money, would I ask you for more?” “Zoe, let me tell you, don’t always act like you help me without asking for return. If you really didn’t ask for return, you would have just given me money directly. Why detour every day to buy my fruit, telling everyone you meet that I’m a single mom and it’s not easy. I think you are basically using this to show off your kindness!” Saying that, she pointed at the people in the building and cursed: “And you guys, bought twenty bucks worth of stuff and expect me to be grateful? Ptui!” “You actually think of us like this in your heart?” Even though I had predicted the ending, I was still shaking with anger. “I helped you sincerely, and you think of me like this!” Linda sneered twice, “Sincerity?” “How much is sincerity worth? I also sold you fruit sincerely, why didn’t you buy every day? Why didn’t you give money and effort like for your own family? Why didn’t you give me your house and car to live and drive?” “Sincerity, I think you sincerely came to find a sense of existence on me!” “I cooperated with you for so long, not to mention asking you for a few bucks, even if I asked for your life, what could you say? What dare you say!” Saying that, she gestured to pinch me, but I slapped her. “I have really tolerated you for a long time!” With this slap, I used all my strength. All sisterly affection was completely severed at this moment. Linda lay on the ground staring at me fiercely. “Don’t look at me with those eyes. I’m not your mom, I have no reason to tolerate you unconditionally.” “To people like you, friends and relatives are just objects to suck blood from!” “I really don’t understand, how can you trample on other people’s sincerity with peace of mind?” “Are you naturally gifted or acquired maladjustment? In my opinion, you deserve to be betrayed by everyone!” “Friends for once, I wish you failure in everything and early ascension to bliss (death)!” “By the way, remember to return the money to me before ascending. And I know what you want to say, say I’m petty and calculating, right?” I looked at her coldly, “To you, I am like this! Even a dog knows to wag its tail at me when fed. You’re good, you directly switched to biting.” Finally, witnessed by everyone, Linda transferred the extra three hundred dollars she took from me back. I also requested it be marked as orange refund, lest she play me again. After doing everything, I happily took the money to treat my husband and daughter to a big meal. Money wasn’t much, but our anger was vented. Only I didn’t expect this completely enraged Linda. She dared not do anything to me, but my daughter suffered.

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Everyone in our circle knew that Hayes had a “white moonlight”—a first love he couldn’t forget. And I was just the paid girlfriend he kept on the side. I spent a year finally tying him down, but then his white moonlight suddenly returned from abroad. Hayes couldn’t take his eyes off her. I was furious but helpless. To avoid being dumped, I decided to dump Hayes first and find someone hotter. Somehow, Hayes’ best friend heard the news and offered: “One million a year, come with me?” Thinking about the awkwardness of seeing my ex all the time, I refused. “Three million.” “Cough cough, um, let me think about it.” “Five million.” “Deal.” I was happily packing my bags when Hayes, who had been standing at the door for who knows how long, caught me red-handed. He stared at me, sneered, and pulled out his belt: “Zoey, are you looking for a beating?!” 1 On Hayes’ birthday, it was raining harder than the day I had to ask my dad for money in that soap opera. I braved the storm to buy him a birthday cake. When I got home, I found a woman standing at the door. “Excuse me, does Hayes live here?” I looked her up and down. Porcelain skin, silky hair, a face the size of my palm with minimal makeup, and big, bright, innocent eyes. Paired with a light white dress. She radiated purity. Alarm bells rang in my head. She was exactly Hayes’ type. Most importantly, she knew Hayes’ private address. I couldn’t help but think of the “white moonlight” Hayes’ friends talked about—the one he loved but couldn’t have, who went abroad to study. I think her name was Sunny Song or something. Because of the “Sun” in her name, Hayes even got a small sun tattooed near his heart. Talk about whipped. I lowered my eyes, subconsciously puffing out my cheeks. Under her probing gaze, I said flatly: “He’s gone.” “G-gone?!” Her pretty eyes widened in disbelief. “You mean…” “He died.” I lied without blinking. Sorry, sister. This is competition. There’s no way I’m giving up Hayes, this walking ATM, to you. After a brief silence. “Who died?” A deep, pleasant voice cut through the rain from behind me. I froze. Crap. Caught red-handed spreading rumors about my sugar daddy’s death. Will I survive tonight?! 2 Hayes got out of the car, his gaze locked on me. With a faint smile, he said: “Zoey, what good does my death do you?” He was so pissed at me that he didn’t even spare a glance for the woman in the corner. I lowered my head, my voice weak: “No, I didn’t say you…” Hayes snorted: “Three days without a beating and you’re climbing the roof to tear off tiles. Just wait until tonight!” My heart skipped a beat. What to do, what to do. This “beating” definitely wasn’t a normal one. Hayes had been busy with company matters lately, and I finally had a few days of peace. Seeing his “get everything back in one night” attitude, my bones started to ache. Just as I was brainstorming ways to make my sugar daddy happy so he’d go easy on me in bed, a figure suddenly rushed past me. Ignoring the fine rain, the woman threw herself into Hayes’ arms. “Hayes, I missed you so much!” Her thin clothes were soaked, and she shivered from the cold. Truly pitiful. Hayes froze, looking surprised: “Sunny? Why… when did you come back?” Like the assistant holding the umbrella nearby, I watched the drama through the rain curtain. Hmph. The white moonlight he dreamed of day and night was right here. Stunned, huh? Tongue-tied, huh? Sunny pressed against Hayes’ chest and smiled sweetly, then stood on her tiptoes and hooked her arms around his neck as if no one else was there: “What, aren’t you happy I’m back?” Hayes paused, opened his mouth to say something, but realizing the assistant and I were still there, he cleared his throat: “Let’s go inside first.” 3 I slipped into the house before them and dashed back to my room. Since I got a bit wet, I took a hot shower. When I came out, I saw a missed call from Hailey. Hailey was my college roommate, Hayes’ cousin, a genuine heiress. Optimistic, cheerful, easy to get along with. Loved to party, often taking me clubbing and drag racing behind Hayes’ back. Calling me at this hour, she probably wanted to go out. I called her back. The call connected quickly: “Macho Muscle Party, same place, coming?” I sighed: “Can’t go, Hayes is back.” “My brother? Wasn’t he on a business trip? He specifically said no birthday party this year. Tsk tsk, guess he wanted a romantic night with you.” I scoffed: “You wish. He’s chatting happily with Sunny downstairs right now. Nothing to do with me.” Hearing Sunny’s name, Hailey immediately dropped the teasing tone: “Holy crap, the Little White Lotus is back?!” “What was my brother’s reaction?” “Reaction…” I dried my hair while recalling Hayes’ expression. “Ever seen a dog looking at a meat bun? Pretty much like that. Couldn’t take his eyes off her.” Hailey cursed: “What’s the plan? Want me to come over now and help you tear that white lotus apart?” “Please don’t. If you touch her, your brother might silence us both.” Hailey muttered: “After all these years, he still likes her that much?” Then she changed the subject: “It’s okay, Zoey. Scumbags aren’t worth it. I’ll introduce you to someone better!” “Men are a dime a dozen. I can bring you a truckload. Looks, money, whatever you want, take your pick.” Before I could answer, she hung up. I stared at the screen blankly. Would she really find me a man? Thinking about it, it didn’t seem inappropriate. Hayes was deeply in love with Sunny. It wasn’t bad for me to face reality sooner rather than later. Instead of hanging myself on his tree, I might as well explore the forest. 4 Honestly, it wasn’t like I had no feelings for Hayes. I might seem carefree, like I don’t care about anything, but I have a serious thing about first times. Hayes was my first. In my heart, he was somewhat special. I’d imagined a hundred endings with Hayes, all involving him getting bored and throwing a pile of money at me to get lost. Judging by the current situation, it was time for me to get lost. I looked around the room, thought for a moment, and decided to pack the most expensive jewelry first. No sooner said than done. I pinned up my hair, rolled up my sleeves, and walked straight to the safe. While entering the password, there was a knock on the door. When it opened, Hayes’ overly handsome face appeared. He was really good-looking. The best-looking person I’d ever seen. Every time we slept together, I felt like I should be paying him. Since I was leaving anyway, I might as well look a few more times to get my money’s worth. Thinking this, my gaze became bolder, as if trying to bore holes into his face. Seeing my lovestruck expression, Hayes paused, then raised an eyebrow at me. Tsk. Even handsomer. Just as I was enjoying the view, a head popped out from behind Hayes. “Um, you’re Zoey, right?” “I’m Sunny Song. Have you heard of me?” I shifted my gaze to Sunny. Her eyes curved, dimples appearing on her cheeks. She was radiating kindness, but I felt an inexplicable provocation. Such high-level skills?! I froze slightly, only saying: “Hello, Miss Song.” After that, I stopped looking at Sunny. Hayes was my sugar daddy. If I needed to talk, it was with him. I pursed my lips: “Hayes, I…” “Wifey.” Just as I was formulating my final farewell, Hayes called me “Wifey,” shocking me to my core.

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I was born with the Divine Bone, revered by all as a goddess. But I carved it out with my own hands. As blood pooled on the floor, my legitimate sister panicked. She offered a fortune to any doctor in the land who could reattach my Divine Bone. In my past life, I was betrothed to the Crown Prince because I could protect the nation’s fortune and summon rain. But shortly after our marriage, my sister claimed she was the true goddess. Every time, she summoned the heavenly dew before me. She even predicted fortunes and disasters, accurately calculating the date of a great calamity before I could. She was worshipped like a deity, gathering countless followers. Meanwhile, I was locked in the Cold Palace, where the Crown Prince personally carved out my bones, one by one. “Clara is the true goddess! You imposter, you stole credit for her predictions and usurped her identity!” “The position of Crown Princess should have been Clara’s! She has the heart of a goddess, not fighting or snatching, which gave you the chance to make me miss out on her!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the Empress was selecting the Crown Princess… 1 “Which one is the goddess of the Cloud family, born with the Divine Bone?” At the palace banquet, the Empress scanned all the candidates for Crown Princess. The same question as my past life rang in my ears. I endured the stinging pain in my chest and curtsied: “It is I, your humble servant.” As I straightened up, blood soaked through my clothes. The Empress’s expression changed abruptly: “What… is going on with you?” Beside me, my legitimate sister, Clara, turned pale instantly. More shocked than even the Empress, she screamed before anyone else could react: “Quick, fetch the royal physician!” “My sister must not come to any harm!” The moment I realized I was reborn. The first thing I did was carve out the unique Divine Bone from my chest, the symbol of my identity as a goddess. Waves of agonizing pain assaulted me. Yet I lowered my eyes and twitched the corner of my lips. Then I knelt, my voice weak and raspy: “Your Majesty, I encountered an assassin before entering the palace. Someone carved out my Divine Bone.” “I am no longer a goddess. I am unworthy of His Highness the Crown Prince…” I looked up at my sister, who was twisting her handkerchief nervously. I pointed at her and said softly: “Actually, the Cloud family has two goddesses.” “I had the Divine Bone, while my sister has a lifelike Buddha Lotus on her chest.” “My sister is the true match for the Crown Prince!” Suddenly mentioned by me in front of everyone, Clara was shocked for a moment, but then subconsciously covered her chest. The Empress asked skeptically: “You truly have a Buddha Lotus on your chest?” “Why haven’t I heard anyone mention this?” Clara’s lips trembled, her eyes reddening, looking extremely troubled: “The Cloud family already had one goddess.” “My sister’s fame is widespread, and the Grand Preceptor himself said she could protect the nation’s fortune. How could I dare steal her thunder…” 2 In my past life. When I was born, celestial phenomena occurred. Hundreds of phoenixes circled and cried over the Cloud family roof, and colorful clouds filled the sky. As I grew up, I could summon rain and pray for blessings. For over a decade, the country enjoyed favorable weather, and wars against enemy nations ended in total victory! The Grand Preceptor in the palace took one look at me, touched the bone in my chest, and declared I possessed the Divine Bone. A goddess descended to earth. As long as I lived, the nation’s fortune remained! But Clara and the First Madam were dissatisfied and jealous. I had the Divine Bone and was revered by the people. They secretly hired an artist to tattoo an ethereal, snow-white Buddha Lotus on Clara’s chest. I haven’t forgotten. In my past life, Clara covered the Buddha Lotus on her chest, speaking to the Crown Prince with a fragile, aggrieved tone: “She is my sister, so I tolerated her usurping my identity and didn’t expose her as a fake goddess.” “Those previous predictions of fortune and disaster were calculated by my divination, but she peeked and took the credit.” Clara pretended to be magnanimous but hesitant: “It doesn’t matter that she stole my identity as a goddess, but I’m afraid she’ll anger the heavens and bring down punishment…” After hearing her twist the truth, the Crown Prince, in a rage, his eyes bloodshot, personally carved out every bone in my body. “For stealing Clara’s identity as a goddess! For occupying the position of Crown Princess…” “Didn’t you claim to have the Divine Bone? I’ll shave off every bone of yours and see how you swindle people then!” Thinking back now, every cut still feels like it’s landing on my body. I can’t help but tremble. In my past life. The person going to the Sacred Altar to pray for rain should have been me, but I suddenly fainted before leaving the Cloud house. When I woke up, my fingertip had been pricked, and blood taken. By the time I rushed to the Sacred Altar, Clara was already kneeling there devoutly, kowtowing repeatedly to the heavens, her forehead covered in blood and dirt. Soon, heavenly dew fell, ending months of drought. I exhausted my spirit, divining for days and nights, only for her to steal my predictions every time, claiming credit before the Emperor with eloquence. Not long after, an earthquake struck the suburbs. Because of Clara’s “prediction,” the people had been evacuated, and no one was hurt. Clara’s divination abilities were confirmed by everyone! Overnight, Clara became the true goddess. I became a despised fraud, an imposter. My previous rain summons and predictions became stolen, impersonated acts. In this life, if Clara wants to be the goddess, I’ll let her! 3 At the Crown Prince’s consort selection banquet. After my reminder. Clara bit her lip shyly. In front of everyone, she slightly opened her silk robe, revealing the Buddha Lotus on her snow-white chest. “Is there really a Buddha Lotus?” “Does the Cloud family have two goddesses?” “The illegitimate sister with the Divine Bone suddenly had it carved out before entering the palace. Clara stands out now—what luck!” Amidst the murmurs, a blush spread across Clara’s face. “Mother forbade me from stealing my sister’s thunder before, so I never mentioned it or let outsiders know.” “My sister is a goddess, and so am I…” “What my sister can do—summoning rain, praying for blessings—I can do too!” I didn’t expose Clara’s lies. I lowered my eyes to hide the sneer within. After Clara publicly admitted to being a goddess who could also protect the nation’s fortune, the Empress bestowed the marriage on the spot. In this life, the person marrying the Crown Prince changed to my sister! Back at the Cloud residence, seeing the bloody hole in my chest, Clara’s joy of becoming the Crown Princess vanished, replaced by panic. Her voice trembled as she scolded me shrilly: “Even if the Cloud family has more than one goddess! Your Divine Bone is so important. How could you be so careless and let someone carve it out?” “Think quickly! Who was the assassin! Where did he throw your Divine Bone?” She mobilized everyone in the Cloud family to find the carved-out bone. Finally, they found the shattered bone pieces in the carriage I took to the palace. Clara visibly sighed in relief. She spared no expense hiring famous doctors to reattach the bone for me. Another famous doctor examined my wound, frowned, and shook his head: “Can’t be reattached.” “It’s been carved out too long. It’s useless now…” “If recovery goes poorly, she might become a cripple.” Hearing I might become a cripple, my expression didn’t change a bit. But Clara beside me trembled heavily, panic flashing in her eyes. She grabbed a teacup and smashed it angrily in front of the doctor. “You bunch of useless trash.” “I can pay any consultation fee, and you can’t even reattach a bone!” After driving the doctor away, Clara glared at me with sinister, cold eyes. I ignored her gaze, closing my eyes to rest, but sneering internally. In this life, without my divine blood, without my ability to predict, let’s see what she uses to pretend to be a goddess! 4 On the wedding day. Crown Prince Xavier married Clara with a ten-mile dowry procession, a ceremony befitting a nation. I stayed in the courtyard nursing my wound. Before leaving, Clara came to see me in her gorgeous phoenix crown and wedding robes. Her wedding dress was sewn with gold thread and adorned with pearls, much grander than mine in the past life. She laughed triumphantly, deliberately dragging out her sarcastic tone. “Aria, so what if you have the Divine Bone?” “This time, the position of Crown Princess, and the identity of the goddess revered by all, are mine!” From these two sentences, I realized Clara was reborn like me. The Crown Prince arrived to pick up the bride. Clara went up, linking arms with him gently and intimately. Xavier looked down from his high horse, glancing at me with disgust, as if looking at something filthy, and immediately looked away. Clara gently pulled his sleeve, pretending to pity me: “Sister has lost her Divine Bone and has fallen from a high goddess to a cripple.” “Why don’t Your Highness marry her as well, making her a concubine?” Xavier’s face was dark, and he snorted coldly: “Not just any cat or dog can be my concubine!” “Clara, you said she’s a waste. Trash should just wait to die. She’s not fit for the Eastern Palace!” “In this life, I only want to marry you! Clara, you are the noble, unworldly goddess who doesn’t fight or snatch.” “As for her, full of lies and vanity, looking at her makes me sick!” I watched coldly as they sang their duet, humiliating me. In this life, Xavier and I hadn’t interacted yet. His hatred for me and his care for Clara showed he was reborn too. After a moment of distraction. Xavier took out a scroll of bright yellow imperial edict from his robe and threw it in front of me. “I asked for an edict for you.” “To marry General Silas, the Conqueror of the North.” Clara covered her mouth in shock, but her eyes held a malicious smile. “Didn’t General Silas fall into an ambush on the battlefield and remain in a coma, practically a vegetable?” “If sister marries him, isn’t it just a ‘冲喜’ (marriage to ward off bad luck for a sick person) leading to widowhood? How can this be?” Xavier narrowed his eyes sinisterly: “It’s exactly for her to bring luck to the mortally wounded Silas!” He sneered: “Aria, didn’t you claim to be a goddess? Able to protect the nation? A little luck-bringing marriage shouldn’t be hard for you!” “Hurry up and accept the edict!” I didn’t move. Clara picked up the edict and held it in front of me. She leaned in, whispering a sneer: “You lost your Divine Bone and aren’t a goddess anymore. You don’t still dream of being Crown Princess, do you?” “A cripple matching a cripple, isn’t it perfect?” As she stuffed the edict into my hand, her sharp nails deliberately scratched the back of my hand. My eyes turned cold, and I pushed her away. Clara fell back conveniently into the Crown Prince’s arms. Tears welled up in her eyes, aggrieved: “I just wanted to persuade sister to accept the edict. Disobeying an imperial decree brings punishment. I didn’t expect her to treat me like this.” Clara looked at me pitifully: “Sister, I know you admire the Crown Prince too.” “But the position of Crown Princess is noble. You are no longer a goddess, how can you be worthy? Only I possess the Buddha Lotus on my chest…” “I tried to persuade His Highness, but he wouldn’t even give you a concubine position.” I curled my lips in a sneer: “Don’t worry. I won’t fight you for the Prince or the goddess title. Those are things I don’t want!” Though the goddess identity is noble, it carries the burden of protecting the people. Great glory comes with great responsibility. Does she think being a goddess is easy? As for Crown Prince Xavier, blind as a bat. Reborn yet still doesn’t know who the true goddess is, thinking he found the right person. Clara acted like she suffered a huge humiliation, tears falling. Xavier, holding her, flew into a rage, his face dark as ink. “Guards! Since she refuses a toast only to drink a forfeit, force her to kneel and accept the edict!”

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I was on my way home from the grocery store when a flyer was shoved into my hand—a new Ramen and Noodle Bar, half-price for opening night. I snapped a picture and sent it to Dustin: Ramen tonight? I didn’t hear back for a long time. I just went to my evening shift as usual. It wasn’t until I was clocking out that his text finally came through: Next time, babe. Paycheck hasn’t dropped this month. Give me a couple of days. I almost typed back that I’d just gotten paid and had a bonus this month, so I could cover it. But then I saw him. He was steering Piper Wells into a high-end jewelry boutique two blocks from my office. A wave of flatness washed over me. It felt pointless. I deleted my half-typed reply and went to the noodle bar alone. I was halfway through a massive bowl of spicy pork broth when my phone buzzed again. You mad? It’s not that I didn’t want to take you, Avery. I said next time. Oh, and heads up, I have to pull an all-nighter for the firm tonight, so I won’t be home. We’ll celebrate your birthday properly another time. The soup tasted amazing. I was too busy enjoying it to reply. But he probably didn’t realize it yet: there wouldn’t be a “next time” for us. 1 Dustin finally returned the following night. He fumbled in the dark, hitting the corner of the coffee table with a thud and sending the glass kettle crashing to the floor with a loud shatter. “Damn it!” he muttered. I hadn’t been fully asleep, but the chaos woke me up completely. I kept my eyes closed, unwilling to move. The bedroom door was practically kicked open. Dustin flipped the light on, the sudden glare like a physical blow. He sounded instantly irritable. “Avery, why didn’t you leave a light on?” Oh. I’d forgotten. It was a habit of mine, a routine I’d maintained for three years, no matter how late he came home. I rubbed my eyes, shielding them from the harsh light. “My bad. I’ll make sure to next time.” Then I rolled over, ready to go back to sleep. Dustin’s voice tightened. “Hold up. Don’t sleep. I just sliced my foot open on the glass. Where are the bandages?” I paused, counting to three. I just wanted the noise to stop. I got out of bed, found the first-aid kit, and handed it to him. He snatched it, still complaining. “Seriously, turning off every single light. Who does that? And now I have to replace that kettle.” I didn’t respond. Dustin, with his almost unnaturally sharp senses, grabbed my hand. “You went for Ramen last night?” I mumbled an affirmative. “Where did you get the money?” he asked. He could easily figure it out—it was the end of the month, and our joint “living expenses” fund was nearly drained. “Oh, your paycheck came in, right?” he remembered, softening his tone immediately. “Fine, fine. Good, you ate. Now, can you go clean up the glass outside, and maybe whip me up a quick bowl of pasta? I barely got dinner.” I managed to keep my expression blank. I was exhausted. “I’m too tired. We can deal with it tomorrow.” His voice hardened instantly. “Absolutely not. The glass is a hazard. What if one of us gets up for the bathroom tonight?” I finally looked him in the eye, genuinely confused. “Do you not have hands?” Dustin froze. He clearly hadn’t expected the attitude. After a long silence, he scoffed. “You can’t still be mad about the ramen thing, are you? I told you we’d go another time, and you already ate, didn’t you? Besides, I’m starving. You ate a full meal; you can’t seriously make me eat canned soup.” My eyelids were heavy. I threw out the first thing that came to mind. “There’s instant ramen in the pantry.” “Wait, you’re home, and you want me to eat instant ramen?” Dustin looked utterly shocked, his pupils huge. He was right. In the past, I would have had a home-cooked meal waiting, or at least a hot, hearty soup simmering. I would never have suggested instant ramen. But when he saw I still wasn’t moving, he seemed to deflate. He tossed a small paper bag onto the bed. “Fine. I bought you something. Look.” I didn’t react. He stepped closer, pulling the item out of the bag, his voice turning soft and cajoling. “Stop being difficult, Avery. I’ve been saving every penny this month to get you something. You’re going to love it.” I reluctantly looked at the item he was holding up: a piece of flimsy, black lace lingerie. His tone grew suggestive. “After I eat, you can try it on…” Suddenly, my stomach clenched, and I felt a brief wave of nausea. Dustin slapped his forehead, a look of mock-annoyance spreading across his face. “Oh, damn, I forgot! You’re on your period, aren’t you? That’s my bad. Okay. Just clean up the glass and get some rest. Early night.” I couldn’t stand to look at him anymore. I walked into the bedroom and locked the door behind me. My mother, Carol, had texted me. Are you absolutely sure about this? I checked the time. 10:30 PM. Not too late. I replied: Yes. I’ve thought it through. I’m going to London. My family was relatively well-off. After college, my mother had repeatedly suggested I go abroad for my Master’s—she said education was priceless, and improving my credentials was always a safe bet. But back then, I’d just started dating Dustin. Head over heels in love, I’d turned down my mother’s offer. I’d almost caused a family feud over it. I never even dared to mention it to Dustin, terrified of burdening him psychologically. I should have listened to them earlier. Maybe then I wouldn’t have wasted so much of myself on this relationship. My mother called instantly, skeptical. “Seriously? You’re giving up that boy?” “I’m breaking up with him.” I hung up and closed my eyes. I was so bone-tired. My mother sent one last text, urging me not to change my mind—she was likely remembering six months ago, when I’d threatened to leave, only to come crawling back after one small, sweet gesture from Dustin. This time, my mind was set. I slept straight through until morning. I did my makeup and got dressed early—I was going to the embassy to process my student visa today. Dustin emerged from the guest room, sneezing twice. “Why did you lock the door last night? I had to sleep in the guest room. There were no blankets, and now I have a cold.” I ignored him, changed in the bathroom, and headed for the door. He stood blocking the exit, rubbing a wad of tissue under his nose. He frowned slightly. “Hey, I’m talking to you. Did you hear me?” “I heard you,” I said flatly. He sounded annoyed. “Then say something. I thought you were deaf.” He tossed the tissue in the trash. “Listen, can you Venmo me three hundred bucks? This cold is pretty bad, I need to go to a clinic.” I sighed, meeting his eyes. “Don’t you have the card?” Early in the relationship, he had suggested we open a joint savings account for our future. Six months ago, he said his “little sister,” Piper Wells, needed emergency cash for her grandmother’s funeral, and he’d kept the card ever since. Dustin’s face soured. “That’s for our house fund, we can’t touch that for little things. And you just got paid, you were going to deposit it anyway. Why are you suddenly nitpicking over three hundred dollars?” I gave him a cold stare. “Give me the card, and I’ll transfer it.” He immediately grew agitated. “No way. You’re impulsive with money. Just go! You’ll be late for work if you keep dragging this out.” Oh, so he still knew I had a job. Unlike every other time, I didn’t reach for my phone to send the money. I simply said, “I don’t have it. Figure it out.” Then, ignoring his darkening expression, I pushed past him and walked out the door. He chased after me, rambling defensively. “Are you serious? Over one dinner? Are you still mad about the ramen?” I was waiting for the elevator. I kept my voice patient. “I’m not mad. And I don’t care about the ramen.” “So, it’s because I didn’t go with you?” He sounded so sure of himself. He tried to step closer to hug me. “Come on, Avery. I’m just busy. Next time, I promise, okay?” I side-stepped his embrace. The elevator doors opened, and I walked straight in. “Don’t bother.” I looked at his hands, suspended awkwardly in the air, and hit the ‘Close’ button. The line at the embassy wasn’t long, and my materials were accepted without issue. Next, I had to go to my company to submit my resignation. As I walked in, I heard the front desk girls gossiping. “Piper, is that the new Love Pendant from Cartier? It’s stunning…” Piper Wells hadn’t noticed me yet. She smiled coyly. “It is. My brother bought it for me. He’s so thoughtful.” “Wow. Jewelry prices are insane right now. He must really spoil you…” He certainly did. Dustin had always spoiled her. I’d tried to complain, but he told me Piper was practically family—the sister of his childhood friend—and it was his duty to look out for her. He’d even pulled strings to get her a job at my company, using my contacts, despite her weak resume. I was about to slip past, but the receptionist spotted me. “Oh, hey, Avery! You have a delivery.” I walked over and took the package, my eyes unconsciously lingering on Piper’s neck. It was beautiful, sparkling gold. “Hi, Avery,” Piper said, offering a token greeting. She looked slightly flustered. “I, uh, I’m going to go make coffee…” As she passed, I caught the scent of her perfume—the latest floral-fruity scent that was everywhere. A familiar pang of hurt hit me. The package was the new shower gel I’d ordered. Dustin had always told me he hated perfume, which was why I put so much effort into finding subtle, clean-scented body washes. Now I knew. He didn’t hate the scent of perfume; he just hated the idea of me wearing it. I collected myself and went into the boss’s office. My manager was disappointed to lose me but excited about my Master’s program abroad. He even offered me a job when I returned. After handing over my work, I finally got home, exhausted. I was surprised to find Dustin waiting with a huge, welcoming smile. He beamed as he came over. “Avery! Rough day at work? I have great news! My paycheck finally came in!” As he spoke, he neatly lined up the shoes I’d kicked off. When I didn’t respond, he stood squarely in front of me. “Avery, no more pouting. I promised to make it up to you, and I’m doing it now. But since you just ate ramen the other day…” He waved his arm dramatically toward the kitchen table. “Ta-da! What do you think?” The table was covered with a lavish spread of expensive seafood. My head began to ache. I sighed. “Dustin, I think I told you a long time ago. I’m allergic to shellfish.” He froze, his smile dissolving instantly. “Oh.” He looked utterly lost. “What do we do? I was so worried about quality that I went to the high-end market and bought the freshest ingredients…” “You eat it,” I said, turning to walk away. He grabbed my arm. “No, wait. I did this for you. If you don’t eat it, I wasted all that money.” He grabbed a slip of paper from the table and held it out. “Look, the prices have spiked recently. This was expensive.” I glanced at the slip. It wasn’t a receipt from a fish market. It was a check for a reservation at a high-end steakhouse. The date was yesterday. The location was near the jewelry district. I stared at Dustin. He followed my gaze. When he realized what he was holding, his face went white with panic. “Ah! Wrong one. That’s—that’s a reimbursement check for a client dinner. My coworker gave it to me. Why did I bring it home?” He was a financial officer; he’d pulled this kind of excuse countless times. I was too tired to call him out. I only felt a deep, weary sense of defeat. “Dustin, we’re breaking up.” The moment the words left my mouth, his phone rang. The caller ID was Piper. I don’t know if Dustin even registered what I said. He shot me one look, then answered the phone. “Oh, okay, okay, I’ll be right there. Don’t panic.” He hung up and started to explain. “Piper’s having an emergency. I have to go. She’s alone in the city, Avery. Don’t let your mind run wild, okay?” I noticed that my heart was utterly still. I felt nothing at all. As he rushed out, he added, “Just eat the seafood, okay? Don’t let it go to waste.” I sighed and didn’t touch the mess. I took a shower and started to pack. That’s when I hit an awkward snag. Our large suitcase had been broken six months ago—in a fight I’d initiated, ironically. I decided to buy a new one online. I found a great deal with a group discount and shared the link on social media, asking if anyone wanted to split the order. Two minutes later, Dustin commented: Why are you buying a suitcase? Then he sent me a direct message: Five hundred bucks for one suitcase? Can’t you find something more reasonable? I ignored the messages. I thought back to when we first started dating. His salary was minimal, but he would spend half of it buying me those fancy sneakers I liked. He would call me from a busy office, just to tell me a quick, ridiculous story before wishing me goodnight. There were so many moments like that. I genuinely was moved back then. But since the affection was gone, there was no point in torturing ourselves. Another voice message came through: Fine. If you really want it, just buy it. The old one is trash anyway. Attached was a $500 Venmo transfer. I was baffled. Wasn’t he supposed to be with Piper? Why was he obsessing over my social media? Annoyed, I blocked his number. Around 2:00 AM, the bedroom light flickered on with a sudden click. “Avery! What the hell is your problem? You wanted ramen, I got you ramen. You wanted a suitcase, I bought you a suitcase. Why did you block me?” The migraine was back. I forced myself to sit up and faced him, my eyes burning. He sighed, his tone softening a fraction. “Is this still about Piper? I told you, she’s like a little sister. I’m her support system. It’s totally innocent. We’re practically family, right?” I pressed my lips together. “Right.” He seemed relieved. “Okay. If it makes you that unhappy, I’ll stop helping her out, okay?” He then lifted the comforter and got into bed. I nearly jumped out of my skin, grabbing my side of the blanket and retreating to the guest room. I heard him curse under his breath and then a loud slam—something had been thrown against the wall. Where did he get all this misplaced anger? Maybe it was only ever reserved for me. The next morning, there was a sticky note on the frame of the guest room door. I’ve done and said everything I can. You need to think about this. I crumpled the note. I noticed the whole apartment was clean—the kitchen floor swept, the mess from the night before gone. There was a plate of toast and eggs waiting on the counter. Did he stay up all night cleaning? I shook my head. It wasn’t my problem anymore. For the next few days, Dustin didn’t come home, and I welcomed the peace. I finished preparing my papers and materials for London. A text from my mother popped up. When is your flight? I’ll have your brother pick you up. I was startled. Rhys was back in the States? I immediately tensed up. My brother was ruthless and notoriously humorless. Sure enough, when I met him, his brow was deeply furrowed, and his expression was severe. “What are you wearing?” He tugged disparagingly at my wrinkled collar. I offered a weak, “Hi, Rhys.” He grunted, motioned for me to get into the car, and climbed into the back seat, one hand casually tucked into his pocket. I always thought he was overly dramatic, but I never dared to say so. His international business was booming, spanning multiple sectors. He had the capital to be arrogant. Once the car started, he spoke to the driver. “Take us to the nearest high-end mall. We need to replace this entire wardrobe.” The car pulled away. Watching the familiar street signs pass by, I realized this three-year-long road was finally coming to an end. Inside the boutique, Rhys had little patience. “Why are you comparing everything? If you like it, buy it.” He was right. They were just clothes. It wasn’t like I couldn’t afford them. I quickly picked out three outfits I liked, instead of my usual agonizing over every dollar. When I reached for my wallet, Rhys swiftly slapped his own card down. “And your face. And this rat’s nest you call hair.” “What kind of pathetic life have you been living? Don’t tell anyone we’re related when you walk out of here…” Rhys griped the whole time. He wasn’t entirely wrong; I’d been meticulous about my appearance in college, but my self-care had deteriorated over the last two years. If I showed up looking like this, Mom would be devastated. Rhys finally stopped when he’d overhauled my look from head to toe. He gently ruffled my newly styled hair. “Now you look like yourself again.” I laughed, feeling genuinely lighter. I turned around—and saw Dustin and Piper. Piper was wearing a delicate, custom-made initial pin in her hair. I recognized it instantly. Dustin and I had made it together at a tiny workshop early in our relationship. It was a sentimental piece I’d cherished and kept at the very bottom of my jewelry box, never wearing it for fear of damaging it. And now Dustin had given it to her. Piper smiled and waved at me. “Avery! What a coincidence! Shopping today?” Her eyes darted over to Rhys, who was standing beside me. She quickly added, trying to sound casual, “Don’t get the wrong idea. My plumbing broke, so I called Dustin to fix it. It took until noon, so we just stopped to grab some groceries for lunch.” Buying groceries, and a brand-new Chanel handbag, apparently. In the past, I would have erupted. But now, I didn’t care at all. Dustin’s eyes were locked onto Rhys like magnets. After a long silence, his eyes narrowed, and he spoke, his voice raw. “Avery. Who is he?”

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I’d been blind for three months following the accident. The first time it happened, the words appeared in my mind like a rogue newsfeed—a scrolling, golden banner flashing across the black canvas behind my eyelids. —WAIT ‘TILL DECLAN COMES BACK IN A MONTH, DISCOVERS HIS WIFE HAS BEEN SWIPED, HE’S GONNA BE A SAD PUPPY. Wait. Declan wasn’t back yet. Then who, exactly, was the man sharing my bed? 1 “What’s wrong? Is my arm too stiff? Not comfortable enough to pillow your head on?” The man beside me held me closer, his chin resting against the curve of my neck. “My baby is so soft, and you smell incredible.” The familiar, searing heat of his body settled my panic. I’d thought I was going crazy, or maybe even miraculously regaining my sight when the words first started. The golden text kept rolling: —MC IS EATING WAY TOO WELL, LOL. —LOOK AT THE DAMAGE. LAST NIGHT MUST HAVE BEEN INSANE. —CAN’T WAIT FOR DECLAN TO COME HOME AND CRY HIS EYES OUT. —POOR DUDE. COMES BACK FROM A BUSINESS TRIP, AND HIS SPOT IN BED IS STOLEN. My entire body locked up. What were they talking about? My fiancé was right here. He had been. I couldn’t have cheated. That was impossible. “Did I hurt you? Was I too rough last night?” The chest and abs beneath my cheek felt exactly the same as Declan’s—perfectly chiseled and hard. “Stay still. Let me rub the ointment on.” He rose, the sound of his clothes shifting against the sheets filling the quiet room. I let him take the tube, letting him massage the salve onto my body. His movements were feather-light, his fingertips cool, as if he was afraid of causing me any pain. “Don’t tense up,” his voice murmured from above my head, a slight, teasing laugh woven into the sound. Instinctively, I reached out and grabbed his hand. The bones were clearly defined, the structure didn’t feel any different. “Don’t tempt me, baby. I won’t be able to resist.” “Mmm.” I mumbled a reply and nuzzled my face into his palm. He chuckled softly. “So needy today?” The voice was as warm and familiar as always. It had to be Declan. I must be having hallucinations from the stress. I didn’t want to believe otherwise. I reached up and felt the side of his neck. Yes, the small, specific mole was still right there. “Are you that eager?” His voice had gone husky. I slapped a hand over my own face. It wasn’t like I meant to graze his Adam’s apple. He was always twisting things. —OH, THE WAY THAT ADAM’S APPLE BOBBED. I WANNA SLIDE DOWN IT. —LMAO. THE VILLAIN BURNED A MOLE ONTO HIS NECK WITH A CIGARETTE TO IMITATE THE ML. DUDE IS TOO DOWN BAD. I froze again. 2 A self-inflicted mole? Was this some kind of sick joke? A shudder ran down my spine, raising the hairs on my arms. I reached out and touched his Adam’s apple again. Now that the Feed mentioned it, the mole did feel… larger. More raised. A little messy around the edges. A sudden, paralyzing coldness washed over me. What the hell was happening? The Feed kept scrolling relentlessly. Piece by disjointed piece, the golden text painted a horrifying picture of my reality. I was living inside a trashy Billionaire Redemption Saga. The Male Lead, Declan, discovers his cheating girlfriend—me, Anya—and uses the betrayal as fuel to climb the corporate ladder, becoming a ruthless, globally successful CEO. His catchphrase? Women only slow down the speed of my success. He remains single, tormented by the betrayal. And me? I’m the cannon fodder, the stumbling block he crushes under his Italian leather shoe. The story ends with me having a miserable life, eventually picking up scraps for a living. Wait, how can a blind woman pick up scraps for a living? That made absolutely no sense. The Feed insisted Declan would eventually hate me so much that he’d drive by me in his Maybach, watching me scavenge. A Maybach? Doesn’t that leak when it rains? And couldn’t I find literally any other kind of job? “Baby, want another apple?” The man’s hand was beginning to wander again. “Just eat, eat, eat! That’s all you do!” I snapped, slapping his hand away in a burst of frustration. He paused, then flashed a wickedly charming smile. “Harder, baby. You smell delicious when you’re mad.” He took my hand and kissed the back of it. Oh God, I turned him on? Why hadn’t I noticed that he wasn’t Declan? Who was he? A psychopath? Should I pretend I knew, or keep playing along? 3 The Feed quickly gave me the name I dreaded: —PIERCE!!! Pierce. I flashed back to the high-society gala Declan and I had attended. The man everyone was desperate to impress. The one who always looked untouchable, coldly reserved. Now, my body was rigid in Pierce’s forced embrace, the golden text in my mind screaming: —HELP! IS CEO PIERCE GOING TO KEEP UP THE POOR-BOY ACT FOREVER? —LMAO. THROWS A FIT AT EVERY BOARD MEETING, BUT IN BED, IT’S “MY BABY.” —PIERCE: SHE’S CUTEST WHEN SHE CAN’T SEE ME. His fingertips were slowly tracing the curve of my waist. “What are you thinking about?” I vividly recalled the night. He was standing under a huge crystal chandelier in a bespoke suit. I’d approached him with a champagne flute, ready to make polite conversation, and he hadn’t even given me a glance. He’d completely blown me off. I remembered the girl next to me snickering: “Who is that? Doesn’t she know him?” “Don’t bother. Pierce hates attention-seekers.” Declan had quickly come to my rescue, wrapping an arm around me and announcing, “This is my fiancée, Anya.” The other guests’ looks of envy and jealousy had been sweet. Declan came from a powerful, old-money family in this city. I distinctly remembered Pierce’s stare as he looked over at us—it was laced with a chilling mix of disdain and mockery. After that, I kept my distance from Declan’s powerful friend. But by some cursed coincidence, he always seemed to be around. Whenever Declan and I were having fun, Pierce would sit quietly in the corner, reading documents, never joining in. I remember telling Declan, “Your friend is such a poser. Critiquing quarterly reports in a karaoke bar?” Declan just laughed. Knowing the tension between us, he never forced us to interact more than necessary. Everyone knew the city’s prince, Pierce, seemed to despise me. Someone had once asked him why. I heard he’d coldly said I was “too much of a siren” and “looked unstable, like a fox trying to sneak into the henhouse.” Later, everyone assumed he only liked ‘pure’ women, sending him a parade of ingenues, all of whom he promptly sent packing. Declan had recounted the story to me like a funny anecdote. 4 I never thought that man would turn out to be a home-wrecker. A modern-day Icarus, flying too close to the flame of another man’s marriage. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. A siren? Unstable? When had I ever been anything but polite and proper? Just because I wore a dress and smiled at a party, I was a fox? In a fit of indignant rage, I kicked him clean off the bed. Caught completely off guard, Pierce landed on the floor with a muffled grunt. He sounded genuinely surprised. “Baby, was my performance… not up to standard?” “It was awful!” I snapped back, thoroughly annoyed. —MC’S LEGS ARE SO HOT. THE VILLAIN HAS HAD TWO MONTHS OF THIS. WHAT A SCORE! —NOT EVEN FOOT MODELS HAVE FEET THAT NICE. Wait a minute—two months.

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