I’d crashed this world, set on seducing the heartbroken secondary male lead and saving him from himself. My ‘fertility cheat code’ had worked: I got him to break the nine-generation streak of single sons in the Harrington line with twins. Five years into our marriage, what started as a calculated move had blossomed into real, terrifying love. I’d successfully farmed my husband’s affection to a perfect 100%. But the moment I made the choice to stay—to trade my old life for this one, permanent reality—the captions appeared. [OMG, Liam is so devoted to our Sera (Female Main Character) Baby!] [Can you believe he’s willing to sacrifice his own marriage—and his wife’s body—just to help Sera have the baby she desperately wants?] [Well, his wife, Scarlett, deserves it.] [She clearly knew our Sera Baby was miserable and heartbroken over not having a child, but she kept flaunting her ‘good-fertility’ body, putting the spotlight on herself and the Harrington/Callaway families.] [Now she’s getting what she wanted—let her have babies till she drops!] [Anyway, in the end, our Sera Baby gets to painlessly walk away with one of her kids, and then she’ll be pampered to heaven by the Male Lead.] I was frozen in disbelief. It wasn’t until after I ran the results of the at-home amniocentesis that I finally broke. “System, I don’t want to stay anymore.” “My chosen way out is a clean break: three lives lost during the birth.” 1 [Host, are you absolutely sure you want to proceed with this?] [The diagnostics show your emotional metric for the Male Second, Liam Harrington, has also reached 100%.] [System detects hesitation in your voice. This may not be your authentic desire.] [Are you truly prepared to leave Liam and never see him again?] The chilling, mechanical voice cut through my feigned calm, making tears stream down my face and pool onto the printed results of the at-home amniocentesis—results that definitively ruled out Liam as the father. The thought of leaving Liam, of never seeing him again, was a sharp, searing pain in my chest. I ached with it. But the cruel commentary from the captions and the damning proof clutched in my hand told me the same thing: I had to let go. No matter how much it hurt. If Liam Harrington could so comfortably use my loyalty, my body, and the life of my unborn child to solve his ‘first love’s’ problems—then I, in turn, would use my death to shred his perfect, fake ending. I could have accepted that he loved someone else in the past. But I couldn’t accept that his past was more important than our future. “I’m sure. Proceed with the exit.” Even if the choice ripped me apart. In response, the System’s light flickered faintly. The monotone voice sounded once more. [Intent confirmed. Commencing withdrawal protocol.] [Host’s remaining lifespan in this world: Adjusted from eighty years to 28 days.] To ensure a plausible death, the System began recalibrating my physical status. It felt like the System was instantly siphoning the marrow from my bones, leaving me weightless and too weak to even stand. The simple act of lifting my arm to toss the paternity test report into the hospital trash can exhausted every reserve of strength I had. As the crushing fatigue hit, I tried to leave the room. But my vision tunneled, and my body pitched backward, out of my control. In the ensuing haze, muffled shouts exploded around me. The sharp scent of antiseptic and sterile air made me feel like I was sinking and resurfacing in a deep, dark ocean. Only when Liam’s name was shouted, and a hand gently grasped my wrist, did the vertigo finally stabilize. Just like always. No matter what catastrophe found me, he was always there, arriving on cue. Now, his familiar scent enveloped me, his entire focus consumed by pure, unfiltered panic. The surrounding nurses and doctors murmured amongst themselves, their tone thick with unmistakable envy. “Mr. Harrington is so devoted to his wife. He got the call and rushed over immediately, didn’t even bother with a coat.” “I know! He’s been guarding her bedside for three days straight. Hasn’t moved an inch.” “True love, honestly.” Their fervent praise made me remember. Five years of marriage. Liam always, always put me first. When I had early-pregnancy spotting, he canceled an international conference and stayed in my hospital room for three days and three nights. Once, during my first trimester, when I craved the legendary biscuits and gravy from that diner on the Southside, he’d driven two hours in a torrential downpour to get them. These fragments of warmth broke my heart all over again. For a split second, I wanted to rip my eyes open and demand an answer. If you cared about me so much, Liam, then why did you plot against me? Why did you betray me for her? But I couldn’t open my eyes. The captions were mercilessly floating across my vision. [The Male Second is only ever the deeply devoted Male Second for the FMC.] [Even married, he will never turn her down.] Their cynicism stunned me into silence. And it made me remember. Liam and I were not equals. I was the transmigrator. He was the deeply devoted, brilliant Male Second from the book, whose life had been ruined by the angst of loving the Female Main Character (FMC) without hope of return. So, when I learned I needed to ‘capture’ him to ‘save’ him, I’d spent my energy trying to push the original hero and heroine together. And when Liam was drugged, I’d offered myself up—one single, perfect night that resulted in conception. My ‘good-fertility’ broke the Harrington family’s lineage curse with twins. Knowing he was finally going to be a father, he married me instantly. He made a solemn vow: he would put the past behind him. In those five years, our marriage of convenience became a love story. I’d achieved 100% on his devotion metric. But just as I’d decided to trade my system-bound fate for a lifetime with him, the captions showed me the true, brutal reality. I was nine months pregnant with our second child. A child who was actually his cousin’s, Rhys Callaway’s. The reason? Liam couldn’t bear to see Seraphina Bellweather—the actual FMC—suffer any more social consequences for not being able to conceive. He chose to sacrifice me. At the time, I refused to believe it. The man who always had eyes only for me at every gala, who never even glanced at Seraphina, couldn’t possibly be planning such a thing. But after I sneakily conducted the amniocentesis and saw the truth—that the child in my belly shared none of his DNA—I knew. The captions were real. And between me and her, he had chosen Seraphina. A wave of self-pity washed over me, and I reached out to the System again. “Does Liam actually love me?” I wasn’t sure anymore. But the System was cold and firm. [The metrics are undeniable.] [Liam’s devotion is currently at 100%. If the Host were to die, he would not survive you.] Hearing that, a bitter, hollow laugh escaped me. One hundred percent. Does a number equate to love? If he loved me, how could he hurt me? I wanted to scream the question at the System. But then, I snapped my eyes open. Sensing Liam nearby, I turned my head, not wanting him to see my panicked, tear-stained face. But my field of vision was empty. Only a low murmur of conversation drifted in from outside the door. “Liam, the doctor just told me Scarlett’s vitals are terrible. She’s too frail. He suggested terminating the pregnancy, or it could kill her…” “Maybe we should just forget the plan. It was selfish of me to ask. As long as Scarlett is safe, I can go back to being the ‘barren’ one, the sister-in-law everyone whispers about. It doesn’t matter.” Seraphina’s voice was wet with sobs. She sounded genuinely distraught at the thought of my death being on her conscience. She even made a show of trying to take off the fake belly she’d strapped on. But on the other side of the door, Liam’s silence stretched, then broke with a shocking finality. “The plan stays in motion.” “I’ve already secured the best medical team to monitor Scarlett twenty-four-seven. She won’t die.” “You’ve suffered in silence for three years, Sera. I won’t send you back into that deep pit of despair just when you finally have hope.” Liam’s tone was gentle, reassuring Seraphina. He had completely forgotten that while she had shed a few tears, his wife of five years was now lying on a gurney, her life hanging by the very thread he had knowingly pulled.

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The first time I saw my ex-wife, Eleanor Shaw, again, I was getting jumped. Roasted sweet potatoes, kicked from my cart, scattered across the pavement. The woman I remembered as being timid, one who used to tremble when she spoke, rushed into the fray, her eyes blazing, and shielded me with her body. After the crowd dispersed, she turned to me, a flicker of exasperation in her gaze. “Is this what you’ve become since you got out?” I didn’t answer. I just looked at her, at the designer clothes clinging to her slender frame, and spoke in a flat tone, “Freshly roasted sweet potatoes. Want to buy one?” She stared at the scattered potatoes, then met my eyes, her own filled with an unreadable mix of emotions. “Why didn’t you come to me? I had a plan for you, a way out!” Her voice trembled slightly. “Don’t you know I’ve been looking for you?” Finally, I met her gaze, but my eyes held only a cold indifference. “Why? So you could find me and then finish the job?” Eleanor Shaw. To me, you were nothing but trash now. 1 My words seemed to stun her. Eleanor recovered, her expression uneasy. She was about to speak again when she realized I was already pushing my cart away. She hurried to catch up, finding me crouched down, talking to a little girl. “Mister, I don’t have any money. Can I have a sweet potato for free?” I smiled, pulling the largest one from the oven and handing it to her. “Wow! Mister, your wristband is really pretty!” I instinctively glanced at the red string on my wrist. Without hesitation, I began to remove it, intending to give it to the little girl. But before I could extend my hand, a pale, slender hand clamped down on my wrist. On her wrist, too, was a red string. It looked identical to mine. Before I could even lift my head, Eleanor’s voice, trembling with emotion, came from above me. “Blake Reed, do you know what you’re doing? How can you just give this red string away? Don’t you know what it means?” The red string. It was a token of our love, from when we were together. I had meant to take it off, but I suppose when you stop loving someone, you simply forget. I casually shook off her hand and finished giving the bracelet to the little girl. The girl skipped away, but Eleanor remained rooted by my stand, her eyes fixed on me with an unsettling persistence. I didn’t know what she was doing. I didn’t care to know. “Want a sweet potato?” I asked, my voice devoid of emotion. As I spoke, snowflakes began to flutter down, landing on my shoulders, my hands, and—I imagined—my heart. Eleanor instinctively reached out, as if to cover my eyes, a rare hint of panic in her voice. “Don’t look! You’re afraid of snow.” I calmly stepped back, my expression as if she were a stranger. “I’m working. Don’t cause trouble, or I’ll call the police.” Something in my words seemed to pierce her. Eleanor’s face went chalk-white, her eyes clouding with pain. As I turned my cart to leave, her choked voice reached me from behind. “Blake, are you… are you still angry with me?” I opened my mouth to respond, but then a little girl suddenly ran up from nearby. Behind her was Jasper Stone. Jasper, my arch-nemesis, my half-brother. The little girl reached Eleanor, excitedly pointing at my stand. “Mommy, I want a roasted sweet potato!” “Sweetheart, Mommy will buy you one, okay?” I froze. In that moment of stunned silence, Jasper walked up to me. When he saw me, a flicker of shock crossed his face. But the next second, he simply smiled and extended his hand. “Brother, long time no see.” The Jasper of my memories was arrogant and unbridled, his every word laced with sarcasm. Looking at the man before me, now a little more composed, I gave a wry twist of my lips. Time, it seemed, really did change a lot. Jasper stepped forward, took the little girl’s hand, and smiled again. “Sweetheart, this is Daddy’s brother. Say hello to Uncle.” The little girl wrinkled her nose in distaste, backing away. “Daddy, he’s so dirty.” She looked up at Jasper. “Daddy, how can you have a brother like this?” Jasper’s lips curled into a faint smile. “He used to be the most brilliant neurosurgeon in A-City.” Eleanor, who had been silent for a while, stepped forward. She pulled a bank card from her pocket and offered it to me. “There’s ten million dollars on this card. Consider it compensation for what happened all those years ago.” Her eyes searched mine. “Come back with us. The three of us can be like we used to be.” Her face held a subtle, hopeful expectation. Under her hopeful gaze, I reached out and took the card. “Blake, it’s so good that you’ve finally come to your senses—” But before she could finish, my next action stunned her. I walked to a nearby underpass and casually handed the bank card to a shivering beggar boy. Then, I turned back to the three of them, my voice laced with impatience. “Anything else?” I asked. “If not, you can leave.” As I spoke, the portable oven in front of us suddenly tilted and began to fall in our direction. Before I could react, Eleanor sharply pushed me. In an instant, our positions swapped. I was now standing in front of the little girl. A searing pain shot through me, and my internal organs throbbed. It was just like before. Seven years ago, Eleanor had pushed me away to protect Jasper. Seven years later, Eleanor pushed me away again, this time to protect her child with Jasper. But this time, my heart was utterly calm. Eleanor no longer had the power to stir any emotion in me. Seeing me lying helplessly on the ground, Eleanor was the first to react. She hurried to my side, carefully checking on me, her eyes already crimson at the edges. I actually saw genuine distress in her expression. She instinctively began to explain. “Blake, I didn’t mean it. I really didn’t. Sweetheart is just a child. I just instinctively wanted to protect her. Please… please don’t be angry, okay?” I ignored her. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I pulled out my phone and, right in front of them, called the police. She must not have expected me to do that; Eleanor froze. Jasper was the first to recover. He knelt beside me. “Brother, we’re family. How can you call the police?” He stood up. “Alright, we have things to do. We won’t bother your work.” He gave me a triumphant look, then turned and took the hands of the little girl and Eleanor, ready to leave. After a few steps, Eleanor stopped, looking back at me, her eyes unreadable. “Blake, that’s enough. I told you I’d compensate you for what happened back then. How long are you going to keep this up?” She gave a sigh. “Think it over and contact me.” I lay on the ground, watching the three of them walk away, silent. Thankfully, the oven had fallen slightly to the side, only hitting my thigh. I struggled to my feet and continued pushing my cart. As I passed a high-end restaurant, I paused. A memory flashed in my mind: the time they celebrated something for me right here. I subconsciously glanced inside, but the next second, I froze. What was it about today? Not only had I run into Eleanor, but with a casual glance, I met my mother’s eyes. Inside the restaurant sat my father, my mother, Jasper’s mother, and Eleanor and Jasper. The five of them seemed to be celebrating the little girl’s birthday. Seeing me, my mother first froze. But the next second, her eyes filled with the same disgust they had held for me back then. She waved a waiter over, pointing in my direction. Before I could fully process it, several security guards rushed out, surrounding me. “Someone asked me to tell you not to disturb her precious granddaughter’s birthday party!” With those words, the guards kicked and shoved me away. As I left, I couldn’t help but look back one last time at my mother. She was smiling, happily serving Jasper. I don’t remember how I got home. The moment I lay on my bed, fragments of the past flashed through my mind. The dream. I started having it again, a dream I had been having for seven long years. Before my father remarried, Eleanor, my mother, and I were always on the same side. Because more than anyone, I knew how much my mother hated my father, how much pain she endured. Until my father remarried, until Jasper appeared, everything changed. The first time Jasper came to our house, my mother unleashed all her anger on him. That day, when Jasper left, he was covered in bruises. Perhaps it was my profession, but I took him home and personally treated his wounds. In our conversation, I learned he was also a neurosurgeon, just like me. Later, Jasper would visit my mother every few days, and each time, he would leave with new injuries. I asked him why he was so persistent. He said he simply wanted to “pay a debt” for his mother. But I was too busy with work; sometimes I wasn’t home, and Eleanor would be the one to treat his wounds. What I didn’t realize was that, subtly, everything was changing. For instance, my mother’s attitude toward him gradually softened. For instance, my mother, who had always hated my father, began to frequently enter and leave the Reed family home with Jasper. For instance, even without wounds, Jasper would stay at our house for a long time. At the time, my focus was on studying abroad. My wife, Eleanor, had a rare genetic disease. To keep her from being afraid, only I knew about it. And that trip abroad was because I heard there was new research on the disease in Country A. After two years of studying abroad, when I returned, everything seemed to have changed. Pushing open the front door, the house full of laughter made me freeze. Walking in, I saw my mother holding a child, smiling as she spoke. “You have to admit, Jasper and Eleanor’s child is truly beautiful!” I rushed forward, tears streaming down my face. I roared for an explanation, but my mother just glanced at me with disdain. “I made a casual joke. Why are you so sensitive?” My wife, whom I hadn’t seen in two years, stepped forward and slapped me hard, her voice full of anger. “Blake Reed, are you doubting me?” In my daze, a phone call came through from the hospital. It was an emergency surgery, one only I could perform. There was no time to say more. As I hastily turned to leave, Eleanor suddenly called out to me. She walked over and handed me a bottle of milk, her eyes showing rare concern. “You haven’t eaten, have you? Drink some milk to tide you over.” In that moment, my turbulent heart seemed to calm a little. I took the milk and drank it all. The surgery lasted seven hours. For some reason, during the operation, my head ached terribly, and my vision blurred. Realizing something was wrong, I immediately requested a pause in the surgery, but it was too late. The surgery ultimately failed. Because of the failure, the patient became a vegetable. And it wasn’t until after the surgery that I learned the patient was a special individual: A-City’s wealthiest man. I was suspended, pending investigation. And before the investigation even began, my wife, Eleanor Shaw, stepped forward with evidence. She accused me of drinking before the surgery. And because I was allergic to alcohol, that’s why I had reacted that way during the surgery. My test report indeed contained alcohol. Suddenly, I became the target of public outrage, countless people attacking and cursing me. And I, with Eleanor’s instigation, was sent to prison. Because of good behavior, I was released early. The day I got out, I rushed home, wanting to ask my mother what had happened. But as I reached the doorstep, I saw my mother casually chatting with Jasper. “Blake will be out soon, won’t he? But it doesn’t matter. You’ve already taken his place.” She smiled. “You have to admit, my suggestion of mixing alcohol into the milk was a good one, wasn’t it?” I don’t remember how I left that day. But for many years afterward, I would have the same dream: my mother pouring alcohol into milk, and Eleanor handing me the milk. When I jolted awake, I realized I was covered in sweat. I picked up my phone, finding a message from my wife, Scarlett Davis. “We should be home in about two hours.” I got ready to go out and buy groceries. But at the supermarket, I ran into someone I didn’t want to see. Eleanor saw me first. She ran up and blocked my path, then, without a word, grabbed me and dragged me toward my mother. “Mother, look who it is!” My mother, who had been smiling just a second ago, instantly froze when she saw me. “Why are you here again?” I gave a wry twist of my lips and turned to leave without hesitation. But Eleanor’s hand remained firmly on my arm. She patiently explained, “Mother, no matter what, we’re family. Let’s let bygones be bygones.” She looked at my mother, her voice softening. “Let’s let Blake come home, okay?” As Eleanor spoke, my mother’s eyes reddened, and she rushed toward me. I had never seen my mother look so anxious. In that instant, my dormant heart stirred slightly. But the next second, my mother surged past me, grabbing Jasper who stood beside me. In my surprise, a knife plunged into me from behind. Blood poured out, and I watched, stunned, as my mother spoke with a look of relief. “Jasper, thank goodness… thank goodness it wasn’t you.” In that moment, my last remaining flicker of hope completely vanished. Eleanor was the first to react. Without hesitation, she stepped forward and shielded me, taking the next few knife blows for me. Before I passed out, I heard Eleanor’s trembling voice. “Blake, this is what I owe you…” When I opened my eyes again, I looked around and found myself in a hospital bed. Eleanor was in the bed next to mine. She had woken up earlier than me. She was lying on her side, silently watching me, her eyes filled with complex emotions. When our eyes met, her eyes immediately reddened. “I realized I can’t let you go,” she whispered. “The moment I saw you covered in blood, my instinct was to protect you. I’ve thought it through. You’re still the one I love.” She swallowed, her voice thick. “Blake, let’s get back together! Let me spend the rest of my life making it up to you, okay?” Just then, a knock sounded at the door. I looked at the woman and child who entered, my heart filled with tenderness, and smiled. “Allow me to introduce you. This is my wife and child.”

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During spring break, my husband, our son, and I went shopping. My son, Tyler, fixated on a game console. When I said no, he started screaming at me right there in the mall. “Monkey! Why won’t you buy it for me? I want it! If you don’t buy it, I’ll hit you!” He lunged at me, punching and kicking. This wasn’t the first time. My husband, Ron, looked at me with pure disgust. “Let’s go. Stop embarrassing us.” I looked at my son coldly. “From now on, I’m not your mom. If you want something, ask your new mom.” I turned and walked away, leaving Tyler screaming in the middle of the mall. I quit. … 1 Walking home alone, I realized I wasn’t even sad anymore. Countless hurts had left me numb. For years, I gave up a career I loved to raise a son and a daughter. But all they did was resent me. My son, Tyler, is only in elementary school, but he’s obsessed with video games and junk food. When I say no, he acts like I’m a monster. He has zero respect for me, hits me when he’s mad, and calls me “Monkey” in public. My daughter, Chloe, is just as bad. Since starting middle school, she’s become rebellious, obsessed with dating some blue-haired delinquent. I tried to guide her, but she sees me as the enemy of her true love. This is all thanks to their father—a misogynist who loves playing the “cool dad.” He constantly brags about his achievements while belittling mine in front of the kids. “Daddy works so hard to make money. Mommy has it easy; she doesn’t do anything.” “Housework and kids are women’s work. I’m a man; I do big things.” “I make four grand a month! Do you know how hard that is? I don’t have time for your nagging.” Every time I discipline the kids, he swoops in like a hero, badmouths me with them, and buys them junk food to make them happy. I’m the villain. He’s the saint. No wonder the kids hate me. Was I wrong? Maybe. Wrong for choosing this husband. Wrong for birthing two ungrateful tumors. I opened the door to see Chloe already home, dressed like a wannabe gangster, sitting at the table. She rolled her eyes. “Hey, I’m broke. Give me some cash.” I ignored her and walked to my room. She followed, leaning against the doorframe, shaking her leg. “Hey, I’m talking to you. Give me money. I need to go out!” I was so disappointed in this girl who only cared about hanging out with her blue-haired boyfriend. 2 I hung up my new clothes. “No money. Ask your wonderful father.” Chloe snapped, slapping my clothes away. “What do you mean no money? You have money to buy clothes but not for me?” She reached for my phone, cursing. “Stupid bitch, why is it so hard to get money from you?” I pushed her away, disgusted. “Get out. Go ask your little boyfriend to support you!” “Fine! I knew you were trying to break us up! Tyler was right, you are just a brainless monkey!” Slap. I hit her across the face. “Watch your mouth. Since this is my last day as your mother, let me teach you how to speak like a human!” Slap. I hit her other cheek. I used to be too soft to discipline her. Now, I was completing her education. Just then, the lock clicked. Ron and Tyler were home. Hearing Chloe’s screams, they rushed over. Tyler charged at me, fists flying. “Stupid Monkey! Let go of my sister!” I backhanded him across the face. His cheek swelled instantly. “Listen here, you little brat. Call me ‘Monkey’ again, and I’ll slap you until your mouth rots!” Tyler wasn’t used to this. He screamed like a banshee and tried to hit me again. I grabbed his arm and kicked his butt and thighs. I used to hold back. Now that he wasn’t my son anymore, I hit him as much as I wanted! Ron finally stepped in, shielding the kids. “Jane! Enough! It’s just a nickname, is it necessary?” I laughed. “Ron, it’s about respect! They turned out like this because of you! If you think it’s no big deal, how about I call you ‘Pig’ from now on?” Ron was furious. How could anyone talk to a “big man” like him that way? “Jane, are you done making a scene? Fighting with kids, what kind of mother are you! Earlier at the mall, Tyler just wanted a game console. You should have just bought it. Making a scene in public… I’m embarrassed for Tyler having a mom like you!” “Yeah, so embarrassing! You don’t deserve to be my mom if you don’t buy me stuff!” Tyler chimed in. It was always like this. They ganged up on me until I caved. They spent my savings, but Tyler thought it was Ron’s money. He hated me and loved Ron more. 3 But I wasn’t their mom anymore. I wasn’t compromising. “Tyler, ask your dad. Isn’t he the best? He’ll buy it for you. I told you at the mall, I’m not your mom anymore. Go ask him!” “And Chloe, you want money? Ask your dad. He’ll give it to you. Hurry up, grab the cash and go find Blue Hair.” The kids looked at Ron with expectant eyes. “Dad, you’re different from that old hag, right?” Ron looked awkward. He hated spending money on the kids, but he didn’t want to ruin his “cool dad” image. “Tyler, don’t worry. I’ll buy it for you. But Daddy is a little tight this month. How about… when I get paid next month?” Ron was the king of empty promises. Only an idiot like Tyler would believe him. “See? Stupid woman! Dad will buy it for me. You’re nothing compared to Dad!” Chloe held out her hand. “Dad, I don’t need much. Just five hundred.” Ron acted pained, pulling out two crumpled twenties. “Chloe, Daddy won’t stop you like your mom. But I only have forty on me. Take this for now.” Chloe looked grateful. “Thanks, Dad! You’re the best. Unlike her, hoarding money. Dad, I’m leaving, Blue Hair is waiting!” She ran out. Ron coaxed Tyler back to his room, then stormed back to confront me. “Jane, I work my ass off to support this family! You sit at home enjoying life and can’t even manage two kids? What good are you?” I scoffed. “You support us? You haven’t brought a dime home in years. We’ve been living off my savings! Where do you get the nerve to lecture me?” Ron puffed up his chest. “Being a supportive wife is your duty! Raising kids is your job! Paying for things is what you’re supposed to do!” I truly didn’t understand how his brain was wired. “Duty my ass. Go look in a mirror. I’m saying this for the last time: I quit being a mom. I’m done with those two. I’m not spending another cent. You handle it!” 4 I grabbed my bag and headed for the door. “If you don’t handle it, who will?!” Ron roared. “Their wonderful father, obviously.” Outside, I dialed a number I hadn’t called in years. After a short ring, it connected. “Jane? Finally calling me? You heartless woman, did you forget your best friend?” Hearing Lana’s voice, I finally felt safe. I started crying. “Hey, hey, why are you crying? I’m not blaming you! Did that dog Ron upset you? I told you he was trash!” I sobbed, “Lana, I regret everything…” “Okay, okay, stop crying. Come to the dance studio. Same place!” When I arrived, Lana was waiting. She saw my haggard face and said nothing, just led me to her office. “Jane, you used to be so radiant. That guy… he destroyed you. It hurts just looking at you!” I smiled bitterly and told her everything. Lana was furious. “How did you put up with that for so long?! Ungrateful wolves! I would have torn them apart! Jane, what do you want to do now?” “I want to start over. I want to make them regret everything.” “That’s my Jane! But the industry changes fast. Even though you were in the National Troupe, you haven’t danced in years. You need to catch up on trends. Can you start as a regular instructor?” I agreed instantly. I was just grateful for the chance. I knew I could be the best. Lana was happy. “Let’s go shopping! New makeup for your new life! You need to look gorgeous as a dance teacher!” By the time we finished shopping, it was evening. With Lana, I felt like my old sparkling self again. I stayed at Lana’s that night. My phone rang non-stop. All Ron. When I finally answered, he started screaming. “Jane, where the hell are you? No dinner, house is a mess! I come home from work to a cold kitchen! Get back here and cook!” I fired back, “Are your hands broken? Or are you paralyzed? Waiting for me to serve you? Cook yourself or starve! Don’t bother me!” “Jane, did you take the wrong meds? Fine, you don’t care about me, what about the kids?!” “Yeah, I took the wrong meds years ago when I decided to serve you like a maid. Are they hungry? Not my problem! I’m not hungry!” I hung up before he could respond. 5 Lana gave me a thumbs up. “That’s the spirit! No more taking crap!” Until bedtime, Lana updated me on the dance world and sent me videos to study. She promised to start recruiting students for me tomorrow. For the next few days, I practiced from dawn to dusk. The familiar feeling returned. Lana said I could start teaching next week. I was thrilled. I told Lana I was going back that night. “Jane, you’re not going back to be a maid, are you?!” she asked, shocked. I laughed. “No way! I just want to see how those dogs are living.” I went back right before dinner. The house smelled awful. Leftover takeout everywhere, overflowing trash cans, sour stench. Dirty laundry piled high, socks on the sofa. Hearing the door, Tyler and Chloe came out, thinking it was Ron. “Dad, what’s for dinner?” Seeing me, their faces fell. “Stupid woman, you finally came back! Look at this mess! Clean it up and cook! I’m starving!” “Wait until Dad gets home, he’s gonna kill you!” Just like Ron. Disgusting. I pushed Tyler aside, sat at the table, and opened a large container of spicy crayfish I bought for myself. “If you’re starving, cook. If you can’t cook, you aren’t hungry enough.” Chloe sat next to me, reaching for a crayfish. I slapped her hand. “Hey! What are you doing?” “Eating! What does it look like?!” “Stealing my shrimp! Buy your own! Can’t afford it? Then watch! Don’t touch with your dirty paws!” Tyler tried to sweet-talk me. “Mommy, give me a bite? You know I love shrimp.” “Hey, I’m not your mom. Don’t call me that. You don’t deserve these shrimp. You can suck on the shells.” Tyler saw flattery wasn’t working and tried to hit me. “Stupid Monkey! Give it to me or I’ll beat you!” I backhanded him to the floor. “I told you. Call me Monkey, get slapped. Why use your mouth to bark like a dog?” Tyler screamed. “Ahh! You hit me! I’ll kick you to death! Die! Die!” 6 Chloe yelled too. “Crazy bitch! You starve us and eat alone?!” She tried to flip the bowl. I held it down. Then I grabbed the other takeout containers on the table—their old leftovers—and dumped them on her head. “No manners! You want to eat? Eat this!” “And you, Tyler. Have a feast!” I threw the leftover soup and rice on his face. They shrieked like kettles boiling over. I took a video and sent it to Lana: [This is what happens when you mess with me.] Lana replied: [Queen!] I ignored their crying, ate my crayfish, and watched a show on my phone. By the time I finished, Ron still wasn’t home. I went to pack some clothes. While packing my skincare, I noticed something wrong. My expensive face masks were missing. I thought Chloe took them, but then I found a press-on nail in the drawer. I never wear those. Ron found a new mom for the kids. Good. Evidence of infidelity would be useful for the divorce. I packed quietly. Just as I was leaving, the door opened. Ron was back, holding a bowl of cheap spicy soup. Feeding the kids slop while he probably ate a feast with his mistress. Seeing me, he assumed I was back to beg forgiveness. He put on his arrogant face. “Couldn’t make it out there, huh? A woman with no skills can only starve. How would you live without me?” Ridiculous. I laughed. “Is your brain broken or did you gargle with sewage? Why does your mouth smell like sh*t? Rely on you? And eat spicy soup? No thanks.” Ron sneered. “Keep talking tough. If I’m wrong, why are you back? Whatever, I’ll save you some face. Since you’re back, clean this place up. Look at this mess.” He looked me up and down. “Yellow-faced woman wearing a dress? Go change. How can you clean in a dress?” He threw his jacket on the sofa and marched toward the bedroom like a king. “Okay. Let me show you how I clean in a dress.” I grabbed the bowl of spicy crayfish soup and dumped it over his head. “Here’s a tip. Crayfish soup. Oops, look at you, eating so fast you got it everywhere. Let me help you wipe it.” I grabbed a filthy rag from the table and smeared it over his face. Ron shoved me away, roaring. “Jane! Are you crazy?! You dumped soup on me?! You want to die?!” Tyler and Chloe ran out, looking like two sad piles of garbage.

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I was voted “Ugliest Girl in Class.” Unanimously. My deskmate sneered, “She’s just a clown.” But they didn’t know I had bound a “Roast Me” System. Every time someone insulted me, I got $5,000. So far, I’ve been roasted for 964 days and saved up $14.8 million. Every day, I applied foundation three shades too dark, wore hideous glasses, and drew fake freckles all over my face. Until the City Dance Company came for auditions, demanding every girl remove her makeup and perform bare-faced. The class beauty smirked, “Ugly people should know their place. Maybe you should just sit this one out!” Only I knew— My breathtaking beauty could no longer be hidden. 1 It was the eve of the SATs. The boys in my class made a “Girl Appearance Rating Chart.” Amidst their winks and nudges, I deservedly scored a 2. A 2 basically meant “Godzilla in a skirt.” My deskmate snatched the chart away, mocking me: “With those buck teeth and that dark skin, you’re ugly inside and out. If I hadn’t lost a bet, who would want to sit next to you!” Last month, I was dragged into a cheating scandal. My test paper was identical to the class beauty, Bella’s—from punctuation to numerical answers. Even though I sat in front of her. Even though my grades were better than hers. But Bella wrinkled her delicate nose, her big doe eyes filled with tears. She looked exactly like that viral transformation influencer, “Winter.” The boys, whose average math score was probably 20, screamed that I copied her. However, Bella couldn’t tell the difference between $\beta$ and B. In the end, the math teacher cleared my name based on that alone. But rumors about me started multiplying. Before, I was invisible. Now, I was “Ugly Girl,” “Godzilla,” “Disgusting Rat”… Sometimes, I’d get locked in a bathroom stall and drenched with dirty water. Sometimes, just walking past the AP Science class would trigger rumors that I was stalking some random guy, desperate for his attention. Seventeen, eighteen-year-olds. Especially in a liberal arts class. Their ability to fabricate rumors was elite. They were one step away from saying I was pregnant with someone’s alien baby. The attacks were so vicious even Twitter would’ve banned them. An ordinary person might have collapsed… But I was calm. Today, my deskmate handed me another “Ugly Girl Ranking.” “Congrats, Jane. First place again.” A pyramid chart of ugliness. A candid photo of me was printed at the top, crossed out with a big red X. He sarcastically told the girl in front of us, “She’s just a clown. Not surprising she’s number one.” Bella giggled, trembling like a flower in the breeze. I stared at the photo, lost in thought. ________________________________________ 2 I have a secret. At sixteen, I bound a special system. The “Roast Me” System. Because I fainted on the first day of school, I missed orientation. By the time I returned, the title “Ugly Girl” had spread through the entire grade. Bella and her “Makeup Squad” spread rumors across the whole school. “Jane? I went to middle school with her. I heard she never takes off her hat or mask… Hee hee, probably too ugly to show her face.” Her simps laughed along. “Right? My Bella is the campus goddess. That ugly freak was just lucky to be in the same school. Can’t believe she followed you to high school, shameless!” Ten years ago, the rumors would’ve been about me liking the bad boy or the jock. But now, the vibe had shifted. They decided spreading rumors about me liking Bella fit the current aesthetic better. After all, lesbians were at the bottom of the social food chain in our class. Looked down upon. But this was a “blessing in disguise.” On the first day of school, I stared blankly as my system account balance jumped by $20,000. For someone who couldn’t afford lunch, this was a fortune. I counted. I’d been insulted four times. Just four sentences, and I made $20,000! So naturally… I accepted it with open arms. Being scolded doesn’t make me lose a pound of flesh. I’m mentally tough; I don’t care about their petty bullying. Besides, the SATs were three months away. I was consistently top three in the class. Afterward, they’d go work in factories or fast food, and they wouldn’t matter to me. So. High schoolers wake up at 6 AM. I woke up at 4 AM. Thirty minutes of vocab, one hour of practice tests. Then thirty minutes for special effects makeup. “Ugly Girl FX Makeup.” Because of the stereotype Bella created, no one ever looked at me closely. I fooled them for 964 days. The balance in my bank account was terrifyingly high. I swam in an ocean of money every day, forgetting the insults. Let them scold me. Does it hurt? This wasn’t toxic trolls spewing hate; it was a golden toad spitting coins! Every day. Every moment. As long as I breathed, I was making money. ________________________________________ 3 First mock exam. My name hung high on the honor roll. The only person above me was the school heartthrob, Liam. He was the son of a school board member, a violin prodigy who could’ve gotten into Juilliard easily. But Liam refused to live in his parents’ shadow. He wanted to get into college on his own merit. And he was succeeding. For a long time, Liam was number one. Until I stopped worrying about money and quit my part-time jobs. I used that time to study. Liam and I traded first place back and forth. I glanced at the cutoff scores and walked away. As long as I hit the score for my dream school, being first didn’t matter. But Liam found me during break. “Jane, Liam is looking for you,” Bella said, eyes burning with jealousy. I walked out under her gaze, hearing the system chime: [+$5,000]. Insulting me in her head again~ In the hallway, Liam was waiting. His white shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing toned forearms. Gold-rimmed glasses perched on his high nose. He looked like a refined villain. Seeing me, he frowned. “Jane, why didn’t you do the last question?” The last big question? I recalled. I had seen that type of question several times before, so I was too lazy to solve it again. I have a quirk: if I see a difficult problem three times, I won’t do it again. Not wanting to lie, I told the truth. “Too lazy.” Unexpectedly, he frowned deeper and grabbed my wrist. “I can understand your poor morals, but how can you lie about an exam?” “The last question…” He lifted his head arrogantly, light glinting off his glasses. “I calculated for twenty minutes to solve it. I should be the only one in the school who got it.” “You couldn’t do it. No need to lie.” “Yeah, yeah,” my deskmate chimed in. “Jane just wants to save face.” Fine. I was speechless. I suddenly understood the loneliness of genius. Just as I opened my mouth to defend myself, Bella rushed in. “The City Dance Company is here for auditions!” ________________________________________ 4 Bella’s delicate face was flushed with excitement. “This is special admission! If you get in, you get a tenure-track job and perform with Winter!” Winter. The city’s most famous piano artist. Performed in Vienna at 7, world-renowned by 14, exploded in popularity at 18 on a music show. At 20, he returned as a celebrated artist. Because he had a face like a CGI model, he was plagued by stalker fans. Annoyed, he moved back to our hometown for peace. This unconventional choice shocked everyone. But it gave him the quiet he wanted. Bella clutched the flyer tightly, face red. “That’s Winter… How many girls dream of playing with him? Even if I’m just a background dancer, I’d be willing!” A girl nearby reached out. “Bella, let me see the flyer!” My deskmate slapped her hand away. “Stop dreaming, toad. Can’t you see Bella has it? Only she has a chance. You ugly girls wanting to be on stage with Winter? Hilarious.” Bella lifted her chin proudly, as if victory was hers. “If you want signed photos later, just ask. I have that much pull.” My deskmate bowed and scraped. “Yes, Sister Bella. Don’t forget us when you’re famous.” Suddenly, Bella seemed to notice me. “Jane, you’re here too.” She smiled, braids framing her face, looking gentle and kind. “Do you want to go? The flyer says every girl in school has to audition. If you want to go, you can sign up with me.” Before I could speak, my deskmate jumped in. “Huh? Her?” He sneered. “The Dance Company is looking for dancers, not gargoyles to ward off evil spirits. Jane shouldn’t go and embarrass us!” Bella smiled sweetly. “True, people should know their limits. Maybe Jane shouldn’t go on stage. What if Winter is there? We don’t want to scare him.” I treated their words like farts. I opened another practice test, ignoring them. But Liam suddenly asked me. “Jane, do you want to go?” “No.” I answered without looking up. My pen scratched across the paper. “Why?” “I have problems to solve.”

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My neighbor stole the vegetables I grew on my balcony for 93 days straight. She became a top-tier influencer with millions of followers just by stealing my produce. Until she swiped the last bag and ate it live on stream with a smile. Moments later, she started seeing dancing elves, and the clip went viral. She brought the building manager and reporters to my door, tearfully accusing me of poisoning her. I simply handed over three things: my PhD diploma, project documents, and an empty flowerpot with a warning label. “I research hallucinogenic mushrooms for treating depression. She didn’t eat poison; she ate my research grant.” 1 I opened my phone. Chloe’s livestream viewer count was jumping like crazy. 2.98 million, 2.99 million… boom, 3 million. She picked up the “White Feather Matsutake,” showing it off to the camera. “Look, besties! These are wild matsutake mushrooms my neighbor grew. You can’t find this quality in stores.” The chat exploded with comments like “So jealous,” “I want some,” and “Chloe is so lucky.” She stuffed the whole mushroom into her mouth, closing her eyes dramatically. “Oh my god, the flavor is insane. It melts in your mouth, silky like cream.” Three million fans were spamming gifts on the other side of the screen. I stared at my phone, silently counting down. Three minutes. Chloe suddenly stopped chewing. Her eyes started to wander. She blinked, seemingly trying to focus on something. Two minutes. She started giggling, a sharp, piercing sound. One minute. “Whoa! Do you see them?” She suddenly stood up, pointing at thin air and shouting. “So many colorful butterflies in little suits! They’re dancing the salsa!” The livestream chat went wild. “?????” “Is the streamer high?” “What’s happening?” Chloe was fully immersed in her hallucination, waving her arms and chasing the invisible “butterflies.” She fell to the floor, still giggling. “Don’t run, little butterflies! I want to dance with you!” I turned off the stream and walked to the balcony. The flowerpot labeled “Neuroactive Research Sample – Do Not Touch” was empty. I smiled. Ninety-three days. She finally stole the one thing she shouldn’t have. Five minutes later, #InfluencerLivestreamPoisoning hit #1 on Trending. I refreshed Twitter, watching the situation escalate. Chloe’s studio reacted fast, issuing a statement immediately: “Chloe was maliciously poisoned by her neighbor. She has been rushed to the ER for a stomach pump and is in critical condition.” They attached a photo of her lying in a hospital bed, pale, hooked up to an IV, looking pitiful. I almost laughed out loud. Critical condition? Hallucinogenic mushrooms aren’t fatal; at most, she’d see a Technicolor world for a few hours. Then I got doxxed. Name, address, workplace—all posted online by her fans. My phone started vibrating like crazy. “Murderer!” “Psycho who poisoned an influencer!” “Go to hell!” Vicious texts poured in one after another. I looked at the insults calmly. A crowd started gathering downstairs. I peeked through the curtains. At least fifty people were holding banners, shouting “Justice for Chloe” and “Punish the killer.” Someone spray-painted a big red “DIE” on my door. The building manager brought security up to knock. “Ms. Su, come out and explain yourself.” I didn’t open the door. Chloe’s studio released a second statement, even more vicious this time. “The neighbor, jealous of Chloe’s success, deliberately poisoned the food for revenge. This person is twisted and possibly sociopathic. Please be careful.” They included my ID photo, edited to look black and white like a memorial portrait. Netizens went berserk. “Scum like this should be sliced into pieces!” “We have the address, let’s get her!” “Straight to the crematorium!” The cursing outside grew louder. Someone started banging on the door. Soon, reporters arrived too. “Ms. Su, do you have any response to the poisoning allegations?” “Do you admit to poisoning Chloe?” “What was your motive?” I looked through the peephole at the crowd outside and thought: It’s time to teach you all a lesson. 2 Hours later, the building manager, Mark, blocked my door with a group of reporters and fans. He even called a locksmith. “Ms. Su! Come out!” Mark’s voice came through the door. “Give Ms. Chloe an explanation!” I pressed my ear to the door, listening to the noise outside. Through the peephole, I saw Chloe hiding at the back of the crowd, her face still pale and sickly. I walked to the intercom and pressed the talk button. “Chloe.” The hallway went silent instantly. “Stealing research samples—do you know the consequences?” Mark reacted first, his voice pitching up an octave. “Stop slandering her! Open the door!” Then came Chloe’s crying, rain on a pear blossom. “I just saw her veggies growing so well… I thought it was a waste, I just wanted to borrow a little to taste… Who knew she would poison them…” Borrow? I almost laughed. Ninety-three days, every morning at 6:10 AM sharp—that’s borrowing? “Borrowing requires the owner’s permission. And besides, those weren’t vegetables.” The crowd outside erupted in murmurs. “What does that mean?” “If not vegetables, then what?” “Is she trying to make excuses?” Chloe cried louder. “They were clearly mushrooms growing in pots! They looked like matsutake. I thought she couldn’t finish them alone…” “Matsutake?” I finally couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Are you sure those were matsutake?” The reporters caught the key point. Someone shouted, “Then what were they?” Silence fell outside. Everyone was waiting for my answer. I went back to my room and took three things from my drawer. My PhD diploma, the project documents, and that empty flowerpot with the warning label. I returned to the door and opened it. A dozen microphones were shoved in my face. Chloe stood at the back of the crowd. I held up my diploma. “MIT, PhD in Biological Engineering.” Then the project file. “National Science Foundation grant, research on hallucinogenic mushrooms for depression treatment.” Finally, the empty pot. The label was clearly visible: “Neuroactive Research Sample – Do Not Touch.” “What? Hallucinogenic mushrooms?” “This is a research project?” “So Chloe ate a lab sample?” I looked at Chloe, hiding behind the crowd. “She didn’t eat poison. She ate my research funding.” The scene exploded. Reporters swarmed Chloe, mics and cameras pointing at her. “Ms. Chloe, did you know these were research samples?” “Why did you steal someone else’s experimental materials?” “How much did you steal over these ninety-three days?” Chloe’s face went from green to white, her lips trembling, unable to speak. Mark was dumbfounded too. The onlookers looked at each other. The fans who were just defending their idol didn’t know what to say. “No… it’s not like that…” Chloe finally spoke. “I didn’t know they were lab samples. I thought… I thought they were just normal mushrooms…” “Normal mushrooms?” I sneered. “Normal mushrooms with warning labels?” She opened her mouth but nothing came out. “Ms. Chloe, how do you explain this?” “Do you know the legal consequences of stealing research samples?” “Your studio just issued a statement demanding accountability for poisoning. How do you respond now?” Chloe panicked completely, tears streaming down her face. “I… I really didn’t know… I just thought they looked edible…” Her die-hard fans still bought her story. “Who grows poisonous mushrooms at home? Don’t let this woman fool you!” Mark jumped in to help. “Exactly! You are endangering community safety!” I was speechless at these fans. I slammed the door shut. 3 That night, the property management cut my water and power. Mark announced in the HOA group chat that “temporary measures” were taken against my unit to “ensure the safety of other residents.” I looked at my phone screen in the dark. The group chat was full of agreement. “Well done!” “Good job cutting it!” “Get that scum out of our complex!” Chloe’s team moved fast. A second wave of PR hit. They edited a blurry video of my balcony, implying I was “long-term cultivating unidentified toxic plants.” The caption was even better: “For Chloe’s safety, we must let everyone know the truth.” Public opinion exploded again. The whole internet was condemning me. My name and “Poisoning Doctor” were trending. The comments were terrifyingly vicious. “This trash deserves to be tortured!” “So what if she’s a PhD? Educated criminals are scarier!” “Suggest immediate execution!” They even found my affiliated institutions and called to report me one by one. “How can MIT have such a professor?” “Fire her! Give society an explanation!” Mark sent a voice message in the group: “Don’t worry, everyone. Management will not tolerate such dangerous individuals.” Neighbors replied: “Manager Mark did the right thing!” “People like this shouldn’t live here!” “My daughter walks past her door every day. Thinking about it scares me!” My finger hovered over my phone screen. Before the battery died, I made one call. “Professor Chen, Sample Group B-7 stolen. Experimental data may be compromised.” “What did you say?” “I’ll contact the relevant departments immediately.” Thirty minutes later, sirens approached. Not one car, but a whole convoy. It wasn’t local patrol; it was the major crimes unit. The leader looked stern. They dispersed the reporters and fans lingering near my home and went straight for Mark. Mark tried to complain, pointing at my unit. “Officers, you’re just in time! That poisoner lives there!” “Who authorized you to cut power to a military-cooperation project zone?” Mark’s knees buckled, his voice cracking. “What military project?” “A joint research base between MIT and the National Defense University. You dare cut the power?” Mark’s face went instantly white. Chloe, hiding at the back, looked even worse than Mark. The police knocked on my door, polite. “Dr. Su, we’re here to understand the situation and restore security systems.” I opened the door and handed them a photocopy with a red stamp. The title was bold: Confidentiality Agreement for “Neural Regeneration Inducer” Special Research. Chloe saw the title and looked distraught. Mark collapsed on the ground. “Military project?” A reporter whispered. “Neural regeneration? What level of research is this?” “National Defense University… this is military?” Chloe tried to back away but was blocked by police. “Ms. Chloe, please cooperate with the investigation.” “I… I don’t know anything…” Her voice shook violently. “Ninety-three days of stealing military project samples, and you say you don’t know?” 4 My living room became a temporary interrogation room. I handed over all the evidence I had prepared for three months—93 days of surveillance footage. Close-ups of every flowerpot on the balcony. Not a single one missing. Each pot had bilingual warning labels: “TOXIC,” “NEUROACTIVE SUBSTANCE,” “EXPERIMENTAL SAMPLE.” When Chloe was summoned, she was still playing the victim, tears on her face. “Officer, I’m innocent. I didn’t know anything.” She pointed at me. “She framed me!” The police expressionlessly turned on the projector. In the video, Chloe, wearing a mask and hat, tip-toed to my balcony. She looked around, made sure no one was there, then carefully peeled off the warning label on the pot. After peeling it, she put the pot in her bag. The whole process took thirteen minutes. Chloe’s crying stopped abruptly. Her lips trembled, unable to speak. “Ms. Chloe, you call this a mistake?” the officer asked sternly. She slumped in the chair, unable to pretend anymore. Mark was questioned separately. Before he could complain, the officer cut him off. “For sabotaging security facilities of a critical research site, come with us.” Mark went limp. “No… I didn’t know it was a military project!” “Didn’t know?” The officer sneered. “Then why did you dare to cut the power randomly?” Mark was taken away. I looked at Chloe’s pale face, feeling nothing. At noon, the National Academy of Sciences official account released a statement. The title was a slap in the face: Solemn Statement Regarding the Theft of “Neural Regeneration Inducer” Project Samples. It stated clearly that Dr. Su is a core member responsible for cultivating and extracting neuroactive substances. The project involves national secrets; any theft or misuse will face legal consequences. Professor Chen accepted an interview with CCTV, tone heavy. “What was stolen weren’t mushrooms, but the hope of countless depression patients. These samples are worth tens of millions and represent a major breakthrough in our country’s neurology field.” The trending topics exploded: #InfluencerStealsStateSecrets hit #1. The netizens who cursed me went crazy, frantically deleting comments. “OMG, I cursed out a national scientist?” “Crap, I said she should die. Will the FBI knock on my door?” “Chloe is done for, right? Stealing state secrets!” Chloe’s millions of followers dropped to less than a million overnight. Her studio issued a statement trying to distance themselves, but netizens weren’t buying it. “Scared now? Where were you before?” “Stealing state secrets is justified now?” “Go to jail!” My phone blew up again. This time, not insults, but interview requests. “Dr. Su, please accept our exclusive interview!” “This is the Daily News, we want details.” “CCTV wants to clear your name!” I muted my phone and sat on the balcony looking down. Chloe’s team was running around like headless chickens downstairs. Her agent cried to the cameras: “Chloe really didn’t know it was a state secret! She’s just a normal girl!” Netizens commented ruthlessly: “Normal girl stealing state secrets?” “Ignorance is not a defense!” “Go to jail already!”

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My parents, who pretended to be poor, spent nearly $800 million on my adopted sister’s graduation party. That same day, I was diagnosed with stomach cancer. The experienced doctor looked at my face, sallow from long-term malnutrition, and sighed. “Kid, this doesn’t look good. Where are your parents?” I rubbed my hands together nervously. They were just poor janitors. We couldn’t afford the exorbitant surgery costs. But the next moment, I saw them at the fanciest restaurant downtown. With a wave of his hand, my dad gifted my adopted sister a luxury yacht worth $800 million. In the heat of the moment, Mom mentioned me: “Nina graduated too. Maybe it’s time we tell her about the family fortune.” Dad shook his head dismissively. “What’s the rush? Let’s test her for another summer. We’ll surprise her when school starts!” I scrubbed dishes numbly in the back. Mom, Dad, I have less than a month to live. 1 When the sun went down, Mom and Dad came home in their faded janitor uniforms. Under the dim light, Dad shouted excitedly: “Nina, look what good stuff Dad brought back today!” “Your old man dug through trash cans all afternoon for this!” Looking at the plate of chicken bones picked clean on the table, my stomach churned violently. During the day, he had told the waiter: “Pack up some leftovers for me. I want to take them home.” But seeing the packed food, he shook his head in disappointment. “This looks too expensive for a poor family. It’ll spoil Nina.” My adopted sister, Chloe, winked at the stray dog eating happily in the corner. “Daddy, Big Sister loves chicken bones the most!” So the waiter packed all the bones from the dog bowl into a plastic bag and handed it to my dad. Dad thoughtfully picked a piece and put it in my bowl. “This one has meat on it. My girl has gotten thin; you need to nourish yourself.” I looked at their empty bowls and asked, “Why aren’t you eating?” Mom rubbed my head gently. “Silly child, it’s fine for us to suffer a little. Everything good in the house should go to you.” Under their expectant gazes, I picked up a piece of “meat” and put it in my mouth. The moment I swallowed, I couldn’t hold it back and vomited everything up. Dad’s eyes grew colder, but he restrained himself and had Mom hand me a plastic bag. “This is a reward for our daughter becoming the city’s top scholar!” I opened it. A pungent smell hit my nose. It was a pair of tattered, worn-out sneakers. Mom and Dad looked at me with scrutiny. If I showed even a hint of vanity or comparison, they would accuse me of being ungrateful for their hard work. I forced a smile. “Thanks, Mom and Dad. I love them.” A wave of pain surged through my stomach. I tentatively asked: “Mom, Dad, can you give me some money?” “I… I’m sick.” Hearing this, Mom anxiously hugged me and felt my forehead. “It’s not hot. Nina, where does it hurt?” Just as I was trying to figure out how to tell them about the stomach cancer, Chloe came back. Chloe was wearing a beautiful designer dress and the trendiest leather shoes of the summer. Hearing Mom, she pointed at my distended belly, full of fluid, and asked with feigned innocence: “Sister’s belly is so big. Is she asking you for money to get an abortion?” Suddenly realizing she “said something wrong,” Chloe quickly covered her mouth. Dad’s face darkened instantly. He stood up and dragged me out of Mom’s arms. Remembering my reaction to the meat earlier, his furious eyes were filled with chilling coldness. “I scrimped and saved to raise you, starved myself to send you to school, and you go behind our backs and get knocked up by some wild man!” “Fine! Looks like you won’t learn self-respect without a taste of the family discipline!” I looked at the special whip soaked in mango juice and lined with barbs. I shook like a leaf, trying to explain: “It’s not like that…” Before I could finish, my enraged father cut me off. “Now you’re lying and talking back! Kneel!” My legs bent uncontrollably. The next second, I was instinctively kneeling on the ground, kowtowing repeatedly. “Mom, Dad, I’m sorry. I was wrong. I disappointed you.” “Don’t use the whip, please. I’m scared.” My forehead was bleeding from the impact. Dad softened a little. Chloe chimed in, pretending to speak for me. “Dad, stop punishing Sister.” “Sister must have just been confused to go to a motel with several vocational school boys at the same time.” That sentence was the spark that ignited Dad’s explosive rage. “Letting you run wild! I’ll beat you until you can’t go out and seduce men anymore!” One lash came down, and my skin split open. Hives quickly spread across my body. Burning pain mixed with an maddening itch. I didn’t know how many lashes I took. In my fading consciousness, I heard Dad say: “Your mom and I are going to the night shift. No dinner for you tonight. Reflect on your mistakes!” 2 When I opened my eyes, I smelled disinfectant. Leo was reading a book intently, his handsome features glowing in the sunlight. My heart skipped a beat. After a moment, I asked, “Leo, why am I here?” Leo put down the book and walked to my bedside, speaking with a touch of heroism: “My dear lady, you slept for two whole days. If I hadn’t broken the window to save you, you’d be dead.” “But honestly, that drafty window of yours didn’t need much breaking. It opened with a pull.” After that, Leo asked casually: “Nina, which college are you planning to go to?” After a long silence, I looked at his face seriously. “Leo, I don’t like you. Stop wasting your time on me.” He blushed and stammered, “Who… who said I liked you? Don’t be narcissistic.” As if carried by the wind, my cold voice reached his ears. “Leo, I’m going to marry a rich man.” “Your family is too poor. You’re not good enough for me.” The smile on Leo’s face faded bit by bit, the loneliness in his eyes hidden by his bangs. “Just rest. We’ll talk later.” Watching his retreating back, I hid under the covers and sobbed uncontrollably. Such a brilliant boy. I’m a dying person. How could I hold him back? It was raining when I left the hospital. I walked down the steps. The misty rain fell on my shoulders. I saw Mom and Dad actually out looking for me, which was unprecedented. Dad was cursing heartbrokenly: “The recruiters from Tsinghua and Peking University have been waiting for this unfilial daughter for two days, and she dares to play runaway with me!” Just as I was about to greet them, a large hand suddenly grabbed my waist from behind. I screamed in terror: “Dad! Mom! Help…” The moment my mouth was covered, I met Chloe’s cunning eyes. She silently mouthed: “Enjoy yourself.” Mom suddenly walked toward me. “I think I heard Nina calling me.” I widened my eyes and waved frantically, making muffled noises. Chloe turned and linked arms with Mom. “Mom, you must have heard wrong. If Sister was nearby, she would definitely come home. Let’s look over there!” Dad continued cursing me: “Little slut, I’ll fix her when she gets back!” “If she was half as sensible as Chloe, I would have told her about our wealth long ago!” I don’t know how much time passed. The man pulled up his pants, satisfied, and I was discarded like a broken doll. Rainwater mixed with blood flowed slowly from beneath me. I stared blankly at the sky. At that moment, a dirty stray dog came over and nuzzled my face. I spoke with a hoarse voice. “Were you abandoned too?” The puppy circled me twice, its dark eyes examining me curiously. I adjusted my torn clothes, barely covering myself, and walked out of the alley. The puppy followed me step by step. Counting the few coins I had left. I bought it a sausage. “I have to go now.” 3 It was lively at my door. When I appeared, the crowd exploded. Two senior students grabbed my hands. “Nina Zhou, congratulations on being the city’s top scholar! We are the recruitment team from Tsinghua University!” Before I could react, another student hugged my arm. “Nina, consider Nanjing University!” “Come to Tsinghua, our cafeteria is amazing!” “Ignore them, I feel a connection with you. Come to Nanjing!” “Tsinghua!” “Nanjing!” Just as the two groups were about to start shoving, Chloe suddenly screamed. “Sister, what have you been doing?!” “Are you out embarrassing Mom and Dad again?!” Seeing my barely-there clothes and the bruises all over my body, everyone fell silent. Dad rushed out with the whip and slapped me to the ground. My ears were ringing, and I spat out another mouthful of blood. “Unfilial daughter! You went out whoring again!” Seeing the strips of cloth hanging off me, he shouted at the recruiters: “You all go back!” “This disgraceful daughter of mine is used goods!” “Young and immoral, pregnant with some wild man’s bastard!” “Scores don’t matter if you have no morals!” The recruiters looked at each other in shock. One senior looked at me with concern: “Sir, could there be a misunderstanding?” Chloe quickly smoothed things over: “It’s a misunderstanding, a misunderstanding. My sister didn’t come home for two nights, she must have been studying!” Someone muttered, “Studying where for two nights…” “Yeah… her dad said it, it can’t be fake…” The next second, the Tsinghua senior stammered, “Um… we have to visit another student.” “We won’t fight Nanjing for Nina Zhou.” The Nanjing senior forced a smile. “Nina, I think Tsinghua is great too. Good food. You should go to Tsinghua.” After saying that, they all scattered like birds. Mom looked at me, a flicker of pain in her eyes. But she was dragged inside by the furious Dad. Mom nudged Dad reproachfully. “If you do this, how can Nina go to college?” “What’s good about domestic universities? I already contacted a school abroad for her.” I suddenly laughed, a tragic sound. A metallic taste rose in my throat. I sat in the corner, unscrewing the cap of the pesticide bottle. A weak whimper came from outside the door. I opened it. The stray puppy rubbed affectionately against my pant leg. I kicked it away, but it came back. I sighed. Fine, I’ll wait until I find it a good owner. I took out a chipped basin and put the puppy in it. After washing it clean, I held it in my arms, staring blankly at the wall all day. Besides Leo, I didn’t seem to have any friends. Since childhood, classmates avoided me because of the faint smell on me. Behind my back, they called me the kid who grew up eating trash. Puppy, oh puppy, where can I send you? 4 Chloe opened the door and her eyes lit up when she saw the puppy in my arms. “Such a pretty doggy!” “Sis, give it to me. You can’t afford to raise it anyway.” The puppy shrank back into my arms. Anger flashed in Chloe’s eyes. Then she suddenly screamed and fell to the floor. Mom and Dad rushed over hearing the noise. Chloe wiped her tears pitifully: “Dad, Mom, don’t blame Sister.” “She was just in a bad mood, that’s why she let her dog bite me.” “I’m fine.” Mom quickly grabbed her hand to inspect it. “Where did it bite?” “A girl’s skin is delicate, we can’t have scars!” I sat on the floor, silent. Dad looked at my silence, and a nameless fire shot up. “I think you’ve really rebelled these past few days.” “You dare give me attitude now!” “If we hadn’t worked so hard to raise you, could you be sitting here giving me attitude?” I knelt numbly and kowtowed. “I’m sorry.” Mom suddenly burst into tears and shoved Dad hard. “Are you done yet!” “Look at what you’ve turned my good daughter into!” “Nina, actually…” Chloe suddenly knelt on the floor, kowtowing to me repeatedly. “Sister, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have liked your dog.” “It was right for you to let it bite me. As long as you aren’t mad at Mom and Dad, it can bite me every day.” “Bastard!” “You learned nothing in school! How did I raise such a morally corrupt thing like you?” “Wife, go stew that beast for me!” “I need to teach her a lesson!” Hearing he was going to cook the dog, I trembled and grabbed Dad’s pant leg. My forehead smashed into the floor, leaving spots of blood. “No! Dad, I was wrong. I’m kowtowing, I’m apologizing.” Dad’s mouth curved into a satisfied smile, but his words were ice cold. “Too late. If I don’t teach you a harsh lesson, you won’t remember!” Saying that, he picked up the puppy and walked toward the kitchen. I stumbled to block him, crying and begging. “No, Dad, I learned my lesson, I really did.” “I shouldn’t have given attitude. I shouldn’t have ignored your hard work.” “I apologize to Sister.” I quickly knelt towards Chloe, my bleeding forehead hitting the floor again. “Sister, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Chloe’s voice was sickeningly sweet. “Sister, Mom and Dad are doing this for your own good. If you don’t learn a lesson, it would be bad if you caused bigger trouble later.” Dad nodded in agreement. “Chloe is the sensible one.” The next second, he raised the kitchen knife high. A scream echoed through the house. I couldn’t tell if it was the dog’s or mine.

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I was the canary in the golden cage, handpicked by the billionaire heir Julian to tame his wild younger brother. My job? Love bombing him. Control Asher with “love,” stop him from street racing, fighting, and partying. It worked like a charm. I was raking in double salaries. Until the day I turned on the waterworks again. “Ash, please don’t race tonight. I’m so scared…” Asher just lit a cigarette, his expression bored. “Relax. Your man’s unbeatable.” I turned my head, dread pooling in my stomach, and saw the prize for tonight’s race. A girl in a white dress. Shit. My double income was toast. I silently pulled out my phone and drafted my resignation email to Asher’s brother. 1 Asher Sterling was a menace to society. His hobbies included: Sending people to the hospital via illegal street racing. Beating other rich kids to a pulp. Playing the field so hard that socialites were ripping each other’s hair out over him, causing PR nightmares for the Sterling Group. Because Asher was constantly trending for all the wrong reasons, the company stock was taking hits. Eventually, a secretary escorted me to meet the eldest son of the Sterling family. Julian Sterling sat with his long legs crossed, assessing me calmly. The secretary announced, “She’s the most beautiful hostess at The Sapphire Club.” After a long silence, Julian looked away, his slender fingers writing a check. The secretary handed it to me. I glanced at the number. Paused. Then I smiled. “Are you looking for a sugar baby?” The secretary explained, “It’s for the second young master.” Then came the instructions. Asher likes girls with long hair and white dresses. He hates girls who are too sharp or confrontational. He responds to softness, not hardness. When the briefing was over, Julian spoke his first words, his tone cold. “You’ll get this amount every month, deposited directly into your account.” He was certain I wouldn’t refuse. I fingered the check. After a moment, I gave Julian a brilliant smile. “Deal.” I really couldn’t refuse. 2 I was planted by Asher’s side. After he “saved” me for the third time, he looked down at me, a smirk playing on his lips. “We keep meeting like this, don’t we?” I lowered my head timidly. “I’m sorry to trouble you again.” Asher clicked his tongue, twirling a lock of my hair. “Being too pretty isn’t always a blessing. Why are you always getting bullied?” The night wind lifted the hem of my white dress. My long hair danced gently. My eyes reddened. After a long pause, I whispered, “I… I’m used to it. It’s been like this since I was little.” Asher froze. Just then, his friends stumbled out of the bar. “Ash, what are you doing in this dark alley?” One of them eyed me, reaching out to touch my face with a lecherous grin. “Where’d you find this beauty? So fresh.” Asher slapped the hand away, frowning. “Fuck off.” The others quickly smoothed things over. “You’re blind, man. She’s clearly with Ash.” Once they slunk away, tears spilled from my eyes. I grabbed Asher’s sleeve. He didn’t pull away. I looked up, meeting his gaze with trembling hope. “Because you’re here, they didn’t dare hurt me.” Asher wiped a tear from the corner of my eye. My lashes fluttered. I summoned my courage. “Do… do you have a girlfriend?” The night wind was cold. I shivered. Asher bent down and scooped me up effortlessly. He said casually, “Not right now. Don’t plan on having one later, either.” I stared at him blankly. Asher carried me toward his sports car parked at the intersection. Several eyes were on us. I buried my face in his chest, mumbling, “It’s okay. I… I don’t need a title.” My answer was within his expectations. After all, a young girl’s love and dependence are always so obvious and passionate. Asher smirked lazily, placed me in the passenger seat, and kissed me. “Cool.” 3 Everything went smoothly. In everyone’s eyes, I was beautiful, gentle, and oblivious to Asher’s wealth—just purely in love with him. I loved him so much I worried constantly. I didn’t want him racing or fighting because I was terrified for his safety. I didn’t want other girls around him because I loved him so much I was afraid he’d fall for someone else. But since I had no title, I couldn’t throw tantrums. I could only cry and beg him softly. Luckily, Asher seemed to like me enough. Whenever I cried, he caved. He behaved for a long time, shocking everyone. Asher took me shopping, to movies, on trips. We took photos, kissed, and slept together. His friends said he was a changed man. Julian must have been satisfied too; he tripled my salary. I became the canary in Asher’s hand, pampered and spoiled. Many saw me as the frontrunner to become the next Mrs. Sterling. Honestly, I didn’t know if Asher really cared or if I was just a novelty. But I knew one thing: Julian Sterling would never let a bottle girl from The Sapphire Club marry into the family. Even though I was brought to Julian on my first day. To elites like them, just being allowed into their circle was a privilege. I couldn’t—and didn’t deserve to—ask for more. So, when I was on the verge of tears again, begging Asher not to race… He just pulled out a cigarette, unbothered. “Relax. Your man’s unbeatable.” This was the first time, outside of the bedroom, that he refused me. My eyes reddened. “Ash.” Asher didn’t look at me again. He crushed the cigarette under his boot and walked toward his black sports car, which hadn’t been touched in months. His back was straight and tall. The crowd whistled excitedly. It had been a year since Asher raced. I had a premonition. I turned my head slowly. A girl in a white dress was being led by several men to the platform where the “prize” usually stood. She looked down uneasily, a picture of vulnerability. In that moment, I felt a mix of emotions. A socialite glanced at me, inspecting her manicure. “You were sick a few days ago and didn’t go to the bar with Asher. That girl was a hostess there, getting harassed. Asher saved her.” I blinked slowly. Processing the information. In those ten seconds, I wondered: Did Julian order a new custom canary for Asher? Impossible. Julian Sterling wasn’t sloppy. Besides… this girl looked scared but stubborn. She lacked my practiced affectation. I sighed, looking up at the sky sorrowfully. My eyes filled with tears—muscle memory at this point. But I was genuinely sad. My double salary was gone. Seeing my expression, the socialite scoffed. “You really forgot your place. This day was coming sooner or later.” I silently unlocked my phone. I googled “How to write a resignation letter.” I needed it to be professional yet poignant, maybe squeeze a severance package out of Julian. After all, I worked hard. 4 Asher won. The other racer crashed. Chaos erupted as the ambulance sirens grew louder. No one dared blame Asher, so they turned on the girl. “If anything happens to Caleb, you’re dead! Just wait.” The girl backed away, trembling. Asher sneered, blocking her. “Real brave, guys. What does this have to do with her?” I watched them for a few seconds. Then I walked over, took off the jacket Asher had draped over me earlier, and put it on the girl. I spoke softly. “It’s cold tonight. Don’t catch a chill.” Meeting Asher’s probing gaze, I smiled gently. “You helped me on a night just like this.” The girl stared at me, stunned. Then she looked at Asher. “Mr. Sterling, she is…” Asher didn’t answer. He just looked down, staring at me. Under his gaze, I couldn’t keep up the fake smile. I gave a bitter twitch of my lips. Because… Forget the severance package. After this mess, Julian might dock my pay for the month. Sigh… dock it if you must. I saved enough. Wait, what if they sue me for damages?! The thought terrified me. I looked increasingly distraught. The girl nervously clutched Asher’s shirt. “W-what’s wrong with her? Does she not like me…” Asher looked away from my face, comforting the girl calmly. “No. Don’t be scared.” I walked away, soul-crushed. Many people were watching, enjoying the show. They hadn’t expected my downfall to come so soon. Asher didn’t chase after me. The girl was sweating from fear, so Asher had someone take her to change. I was sweating too. I wiped my palms on my dress, opened my email, and sent the drafted resignation to Julian. The language was sincere, expressing gratitude for the opportunity and dedication to the job. Gotta cut ties before I get blamed! Just then, the manager of The Sapphire Club called. “Sunny, can you come in tomorrow? You left some stuff in your locker.” I paused. Right. “Okay.” After hanging up… I called a cab to the apartment I secretly bought. To maintain perfect skin and energy for Asher, I rarely stayed up late. Now that I was free… I took out my SIM card, curled up in bed, and doom-scrolled until dawn. I woke up the next evening, put in a new SIM card, threw on a T-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops, and went to The Sapphire Club bare-faced. It had been so long since I felt this relaxed. The manager was stunned for a second when she saw me, then took me to get my stuff. She didn’t ask questions. I grabbed my things, waved goodbye, and turned to leave. Then I heard a familiar voice. “Is this the place?” Magnetic, lazy. The girl whispered yes. The entourage chimed in. “Ash is so good, coming back to settle the score for the little lady. Those guys are screwed.” Asher looked at the manager. “Bring everyone who worked her shift.” I silently pulled a mask from my pocket, lowered my head, and tried to sneak away. “Sunny He?” Someone gasped. Seriously? You recognized me like this? I messed up my hair and shook my head. The manager seemed to sense my reluctance. She stepped forward, smiling. “Who is that? Young masters, ladies, let me show you to your private room.” I felt a surge of gratitude. The next second, my wrist was grabbed. Asher’s voice rang through the gilded lobby, brokering no argument. “Look up. Take off the mask.” I froze. But I didn’t move, staring at the floor, playing deaf. The room was dead silent. Until a weak voice cried out, “Ash, my stomach hurts.” A few seconds of stalemate. Asher let go of my hand and walked toward the girl. I walked out step by step, nerves taut. Terrified there was more to the script. Only when I was in the cab did it hit me. The scent of cedarwood on Asher had been replaced by a faint floral perfume. They must have spent a lot of time together… To smell like each other.

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I gave my students a choice for their homework: Build a nuclear bomb. Find the teacher a tall, rich, and handsome boyfriend. Complete the physics worksheet. The next day, one student handed in a blank worksheet. I called her to my office to interrogate her: “Why didn’t you do the homework?” She dragged a handsome guy in from the hallway. “Ms. Parker, here’s the tall, rich, and handsome guy you wanted.” I nearly fainted. 1 After graduating with my teaching degree, I returned to my high school alma mater as a physics teacher. As soon as I got my teaching license, my best friend ruthlessly roasted me: “Sarah Parker, with someone like you as a teacher, I fear for the future of those students.” She was right. I’m chronically online, love memes, play video games with my students, and even led the whole class in a TikTok dance during the sports meet… So, my students never call me “Ms. Parker,” they call me “Sister Sarah,” and I’ve been unanimously voted “Most Unprofessional Physics Teacher at A-High.” Today, while slacking off in the office, I saw a trending topic—#CraziestOnlineClassAssignments. The vibe was like this: “Physics homework, choose one: Build an atomic bomb. Take a photo holding hands with Einstein or Newton. Build a perpetual motion machine. Complete pages 40-43 in the workbook.” “Math: Prove Goldbach’s conjecture or finish one worksheet.” “English: Take a photo with the President in front of the White House or translate this passage.” … Such a good meme, how could I not participate? So, when assigning homework in the class group chat, I posted an announcement: “Please choose one of the following to complete: Build a nuclear bomb. Find Ms. Parker a tall, rich, and handsome boyfriend. Complete the physics worksheet.” Here’s the thing: my parents have been relentless about me getting married lately. I was losing my mind, hence the second option. Who wouldn’t go crazy under that kind of pressure? Minutes after posting, the red dot on the chat icon turned into “99+”. “LMAO.” “Sister Sarah keeping up with the trends.” “If I win a Nobel Prize, can I get extra credit on the final?” Then, the vibe shifted. “Wait, Sister Sarah is still single?” “I heard she’s never dated anyone.” “Sister Sarah, I can introduce you to my second cousin’s neighbor’s nephew.” … My face darkened. I forcibly deleted the “never dated anyone” message and muted the chat. Why do they have to be so honest? I don’t want to hear it. 2 The next day, out of 47 students, I collected 46 worksheets. After class, the class rep and I checked the list and found the lone defaulter: Lily Lin. She’s usually a good kid. Why the sudden rebellion? I called her to the office. “Where’s the worksheet from yesterday? Let me see it.” She looked calm, pulled out a paper, and handed it to me. Tsk, cleaner than my face after a facial. What is wrong with this kid? I rubbed my temples: “Why didn’t you do the homework?” She grinned: “Ms. Parker, I did the homework.” Then she dragged a guy in a baseball cap from the hallway and pushed him in front of me. “This is my brother. Ms. Parker, here’s the tall, rich, and handsome guy you wanted.” ? The other teachers in the office put down their lesson plans and turned to watch. The handsome guy lifted his cap and smiled: “Sarah Parker, long time no see.” I stared at him for a moment. I recognized him. It was my high school crush—Lucas Lin. I paused: “Lu… Lucas?” Lucas nodded slightly. I turned back to my student: “He’s your brother?” Lily nodded too. Oh god, oh god… I played the meme too hard and it backfired. My colleagues were all watching the drama, some even covering their mouths and giggling. My reputation is ruined! I felt dizzy, the room spun, and I collapsed. 3 Dead memories suddenly attacked me. In high school, my math was atrocious. I counted on my fingers for double-digit addition. Definitions, geometry, equations—all Greek to me. But Lucas, who sat behind me, consistently scored 145+ out of 150 on math exams. Sigh, the gap between humans. Taking advantage of proximity, I turned around to ask him whenever I was stuck. He was nice too. To make sure I understood, he’d explain a problem four or five times without getting annoyed! We were close when he explained things. And he was handsome. Devastatingly handsome. Refined features, sharp jawline. Every time I turned around, I couldn’t help but sneak a peek. My heart fluttered like a trapped bird—who wouldn’t like a hot guy patiently explaining calculus? I was crushing hard. I whined to my best friend every day. Eventually, her ears calloused over, and she urged me to shoot my shot. “Go big or go home!” Let’s do it! That day, I bought nice paper and an envelope to write a confession letter. First time writing a love letter. I wanted it to be classy. I deliberated over every word. Seven days later, I squeezed out six words: “Dear Lucas Lin…” That was it. As a science student, my literary skills were tragic. So I bribed my liberal arts major best friend with five bucks to write it for me. She waved her pen, swish swish swish, and ten minutes later—slap—she slammed the paper in front of me. I picked it up. Tsk, so cheesy. Phrases like “My secret love for you is a silent wind moving the grass,” “I miss you occasionally, but often occasionally…” I got goosebumps. My face twisted in cringe. She rolled her eyes: “Take it or leave it!” I smiled like a sycophant, “I’ll take it, I’ll take it…” But the letter stayed in my hand for half a month. I couldn’t send it. Besides being a coward, there was another reason. Rumors about Lucas and the school beauty, Misty, were flying everywhere. Everyone knew. And me? No makeup, braces, face full of acne. Competing with the school beauty was like hitting a rock with an egg. My best friend rolled her eyes again and moved to snatch the letter back: “If you’re scared, don’t do it.” The provocation worked: “No, no! Let me try one more time! I can do it!” I swore, holding up three fingers. “If I don’t give it to him today, I’ll eat it!” After school, Lucas and the boys finished basketball and were walking back, laughing. I hid behind a wall, eavesdropping. The boys were gossiping about Lucas and Misty again. They got closer. I clutched the letter, palms sweating. Counting down in my head: 3, 2, 1. Just as I was about to jump out, Lucas’s voice rang out: “I’m not interested in girls.” … I stuffed the letter in my mouth and ate it with tears in my eyes. After discovering Lucas’s secret, I ignored him for the rest of senior year. I wished I could move my desk 800 meters away. Even if he talked to me, I just mumbled “Mmhmm” and brushed him off. I finally understood why he rejected every girl’s gift. The dude wasn’t interested in girls!!! 4 I looked at this familiar face, rolled my eyes back, and slumped into the chair. The room erupted into chaos. Someone pinched my philtrum, someone fanned me, someone poured water… “Ms. Parker? Sarah? Are you okay?” I looked at the concerned faces, pale and weak: “I’m fine…” Lucas must be here to discuss his sister’s grades. Definitely not to cause trouble. Must be! I drank some water, calmed down, and pulled Lucas outside: “Lucas, what are you doing here?” I clung to my last hope: “Are you here to talk about Lily’s studies?” The next second, my hope was ruthlessly shattered. “No. “I heard a certain single-since-birth physics teacher was getting desperate from family pressure and publicly recruiting a boyfriend,” he crossed his arms and smirked, “I came specifically to watch the show.” His “single-since-birth” comment stabbed my heart. I almost coughed blood. How could such cold words come from his 98.6-degree mouth!! High school? No dating for obvious reasons. College? Four years focused on my career, studying, getting certified, tutoring. No time for love. Now? Work, parental pressure, blind dates. And the blind dates were unreliable. Last month, a distant aunt introduced a “mature, steady man.” Yeah, mature. He was over 40. A neighbor introduced a “quality man.” House, car, savings. But… divorced with a kid. I have no interest in being a stepmom. Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous! I laughed dryly, expressionless. “Yeah, my parents see everyone else’s kids getting married, and I haven’t even found a boyfriend. They’re panicking. Nagging every day. It’s annoying.” Lucas paced back and forth, then stopped in front of me and said something shocking. He said he was also being pressured to marry. Why don’t we team up and act? Pretend to be a couple to appease our families. I despised him internally: This guy clearly isn’t into girls but is too afraid to come out, so he drags someone else into his lie. Harmful to others and himself. If I agree to act with him, isn’t that selling my soul? So— I need more money. “Sure,” I agreed readily. “But I need a fee for my acting services.” “For one performance—this much. Okay?” I waved two fingers, meaning 200 bucks. He nodded: “No problem.” Then he tapped on his phone. Next second, Ding— Alipay: Received 10,000 yuan (~$1,400). My balance jumped from two digits to five. !!! I gasped. I work like a donkey every day and only make that much in a month! “What’s wrong?” His eyes were innocent. “Two thousand per act. Five acts upfront. If we need more, I’ll pay more. Is there a problem?” He didn’t even flinch. Oh, right. In the office, Lily said her brother was the tall, rich, and handsome guy I needed. “No, no, no!” I beamed like a flower. “Pleasure doing business with you!” His eyes softened: “Mmh. Pleasure.” 5 WeChat Group “Happy Family”: [CloudBreaker (Dad)] patted me: Daughter, found a boyfriend yet? [BloomingRich (Mom)] (Voice Message): “Your cousin’s engagement party is next Saturday morning. Don’t forget. Aiyah, when will you bring someone home?” [Me]: I found a boyfriend. [CloudBreaker]: Are you painting us another pie (lying) again? I’ve used this line many times. My parents believed it every time, only to be ghosted. So this time, they didn’t believe it. I rubbed my brow and typed furiously: “Really found one. Bringing him home in a couple of days.” To convince them, I stole a few photos from Lucas’s Moments and sent them. After that, I tossed my phone and went to shower. When I came out, I had countless missed calls. I called back. Picked up instantly. My parents bombarded me with excitement, making my head spin. Dad fired the first salvo: “What’s he like? How old? What does he do?” Mom grabbed the phone: “How did you meet?” Dad: “How long have you known him?” Mom: “Do you think he’s the one?” … I had planned this whole charade: First, bring Lucas home, claim he’s my boyfriend, and get some peace and quiet. A few months later, tell them we broke up due to personality differences. Then use “heartbreak” as an excuse to reject blind dates. My abacus was clicking loudly. Ideally, I wouldn’t be bothered about marriage for six months to a year!

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My stepbrother, Julian, hates my guts. But I love to stick to him like glue. He paid me two thousand dollars to not walk home with him. He paid twenty thousand to get me to transfer out of his class. But every time, I’d come crawling back. After graduation, he transferred a huge sum into my account and said coldly: “Here’s five million dollars. Go study abroad. Never appear in my house again.” My eyes turned red, and I lowered my head, whispering, “Okay.” YES! He finally took the bait. 1 I walked in on Julian trying—and failing—to kiss the scholarship student. It was a dim karaoke room. He was slumped in the corner sofa, looking exhausted, his sharp profile obscured by shadows. A girl in a white dress stood next to him, hands on either side of him, leaning in tentatively. When I burst in, she jumped, turning to face me in a panic. Her eyes were wet, like a frightened deer. “Nia, I…” I ignored her and walked straight to Julian. “The driver’s here to pick me up. Dad said to bring you home too.” He picked up his jacket, draped it over his shoulders, and followed me out. It was late. The hallway was quiet. He closed the door but didn’t leave. He leaned against it, looking lazy. “She almost kissed me.” “…” I said nothing. His voice took on an edge of annoyance. “She’s very timid. It took her a lot of courage to do that.” I unlocked my phone, showed him the time and the text from my stepfather, and explained quietly. “Dad really told me to pick you up.” He glanced at it and gave a perfunctory, “Oh.” “I’m eighteen. I graduated high school. He can’t control me anymore. Tattling won’t work.” The psychedelic lights shifted, illuminating his features. His cheeks were flushed. He was drunk. I gripped my sleeve, my voice barely a whisper. “But…” He cut me off impatiently. “Go home by yourself.” “And—” His fingers tapped on his phone screen. “Here’s five million dollars. Go study abroad. Never appear in my house again.” “Let’s never see each other again.” “Nia, I really hate you.” He never wanted to see me again. Instantly, my eyes reddened. I lowered my head, suppressing a sob. “Okay.” Julian turned back into the karaoke room and slammed the door hard. I checked my banking app. The numbers were correct. Finally, I couldn’t hold it back. I squatted down, covered my mouth, and let out a muffled giggle. YES! He finally took the bait. 2 Julian has hated me for a long time. He thinks my mom and I are gold diggers after the Sterling family fortune. He’s not wrong. When I was fourteen, he put two geckos in my bed to scare me out of the house. I cried. To comfort me, my stepdad gave me more allowance. Seeing the money, I was happy again. When we were sixteen, we ended up in the same high school. He didn’t want to be in the same class as me, but he didn’t want his dad to yell at him and then pay me off again. So he skipped the middleman. “Twenty thousand.” “Transfer out of this class.” Freshman year, I left. Sophomore year, I came back. He never specified a time limit. When I walked back into the classroom with my backpack, Julian’s face was black as thunder. The guy in front of him laughed. “Jules, your sister is persistent.” Julian said coldly, “She’s not my sister.” Everyone smirked knowingly. Julian looked at me, frowning. “What will it take for you to disappear from my sight?” My eyes turned red. “Do you hate me that much?” He flashed a number with his fingers. I bit my lip. “Sorry, wrong classroom.” 3 I discovered a business opportunity. Julian was seriously rich. His mom, living abroad, paved his road with gold. When he played golf, I was the cheerleader, fetching water and holding his jacket. He confronted me. I looked up at him, starry-eyed. “I just admire you, big brother. Is that wrong?” He transferred me money. “Go shopping if you’re bored. Stop bothering me.” I happily accepted. I pestered Julian for over a year. Everyone knew he had a stepsister like me. They even joked about visiting him in the orthopedic hospital (a Chinese slang reference to incest/broken legs). Over time, Julian stopped explaining. He just threw money at me to make me go away. But I would never leave my ATM. On Julian’s 18th birthday, he got drunk. When he came home from the hotel, I held a bowl of hangover soup in one hand and supported him with the other. I hoped his drunken vision would add an extra zero to the transfer. He squinted at me, looking down, and suddenly said: “Nia, you really are manipulative and scheming.” His tone was mocking. I paused on the stairs. Insults cost extra. Suddenly, he grabbed my waist, turned off the lights, and pinned me against the railing of the spiral staircase, kissing me. My vision went dark. Only his face, magnified. His breath was like a storm. Shocked, I pushed him away. The bowl smashed—crash—and tumbled down the stairs. Stepdad called from upstairs, “Nia, what happened?” I suppressed the tremor in my voice and cried out my usual grievance: “Brother is drunk and throwing a tantrum! He broke my bowl!” Julian lowered his head, leaning against the railing, silent in the dark. Stepdad sighed. “He’s like that. Gets crazy when he drinks. Ignore him, go rest. I’ll help him.” I fled back to my room. At 3 AM. Julian texted me. [Sorry.] [Didn’t see clearly. Thought you were someone else.] It was his first apology. But it was an insult. Attached was a transfer. I didn’t accept it, and I didn’t reply. 4 I found out later who “someone else” was. One of Julian’s pursuers. A scholarship student who was always in the top ten of the grade, named Leah. She was insecure and timid, only daring to look at him from afar. And Julian noticed her. He said, “She’s like Nia. Always looking pathetic.” “Who is she putting on a show for?” He hated me, but he enjoyed watching Leah act that way. After school, I waited in the car for him. He came out with a girl in a school uniform trailing behind him. The car door opened. He didn’t get in. Holding her backpack, he raised an eyebrow at me and said nonchalantly: “Get out.” I froze for a second. Leah raised her hand cautiously, tugging at his sleeve, her voice soft. “Forget it, Jules.” “I can go home by myself.” Julian didn’t budge, his voice turning cold. “I’m taking her home.” “I transferred you the money. Take a taxi.” Why didn’t he give me enough to buy a car? Whatever. Quit while you’re ahead. I nodded awkwardly, bit my lip, clutched my backpack straps, and obediently got out of the car. Dusk fell, and the crowds dispersed. I stood alone by the roadside, staring at the tips of my shoes, tears falling one by one. Only when the car drove off in the opposite direction did I wipe my tears and check Julian’s message. $2,000? Good thing I didn’t check it in front of him. I wouldn’t have been able to cry. 5 Julian gave me the five million too late. I hadn’t prepared for the IELTS or TOEFL, so I had to cancel most of my travel plans and parties to hole up in my room memorizing vocabulary. Julian was downstairs throwing a party with his rich friends. The music was loud. I took off my headphones and went downstairs. “Can you keep it down?” Julian’s friend patted the empty seat next to him and smiled. “Nia, you’re home? Why not join us?” I pursed my lips in a shy smile. “I’m upstairs memorizing vocab.” “Vocab?” Someone finally turned off the music to listen. “I thought people who actually study that hard only existed online.” “Leah is here too. Come join us.” Julian hadn’t looked up once. Leah sat next to him, smiling gently at me. Then she looked like she wanted to say something but stopped. “Nia, are you planning to repeat a year?” I didn’t know her well. Calling me Nia so intimately… looks like things are getting serious with Julian. She continued, “It’s okay if you didn’t do well.” “Uncle Sterling is so rich, you probably have lots of backdoors.” Sensing the tension, everyone went quiet. I said gently: “Yes, my family is rich. Doesn’t matter how I test.” “Leah, are you worried about your scores?” Her face went pale. Julian finally looked up, patting her hand reassuringly. “Nia, don’t be so mean.” I nodded. “Okay.” “I’m going up to study. Keep it down.” I put my headphones back on and walked up the stairs. I could feel gazes burning into my back.

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I was late for school and forced to stand in the hallway as punishment. The school’s notorious bad boy, seeing my predicament, wouldn’t stop pestering me for my name. Thinking quickly, I gave him the name of the school’s top scholar instead. The bad boy looked thoughtful. During Monday’s assembly, while reading his “reflection essay” for past misdeeds, the bad boy added a line at the end: “Julian Ji, I liked you the moment I saw you. I want the whole school to know, you belong to me!” Amidst the screaming crowd, I clapped until my hands were red: “Love is love! I support it!” 1 I knew the guy running around on stage shouting into the microphone. It was Jax Zhou, the school bully. Bleached hair, ears full of piercings, uniform worn like a rag—the school’s famous delinquent. I knew the person he was confessing to even better. My deskmate, Julian Ji. Already accepted into a top university, he transferred to our mediocre high school for the last three months just to “experience life.” Both of them got called to the principal’s office. The principal is such a dinosaur. It’s the 21st century; a little bromance between boys is totally normal. 2 While squatting in the bathroom, I overheard two girls discussing today’s drama. “Who do you think is the top and who’s the bottom?” “I prefer the pretty boy top.” “You think Julian is the top? But Jax is taller, and he’s not ugly either.” “Sigh, you don’t get it. Listen…” Their voices dropped to a whisper. I pressed my ear against the stall wall but couldn’t hear a thing. Classmates, what are you “getting”? Let me get it too! Speaking of Jax, I only put a face to the name a few days ago. Our school is famous for being chaotic. Fights, dating, skipping class—it’s all fair game. Being late usually meant sneaking in. But Jax, after getting caught himself, yelled, “Teacher! That late kid is trying to sneak in!” Resulting in me standing in the hallway as punishment. As he left, he grabbed my arm. “Hey, what’s your name?” He looked like he wouldn’t let go until I answered. Annoyed, I blurted out, “I’m Julian Ji, okay!” Jax seemed to chew on the name. I shook him off and ran. He shouted from behind, “Hey—Julian Ji! You didn’t tell me your class number!” Thinking back, my heart skipped a beat. This mess won’t come back to bite me, right? 3 The teacher called me to the office to give me this month’s financial aid. Three years ago, despite having scores good enough for the top high school in the city, I came to this bottom-tier school. I had no choice; they offered too much money. Back in the classroom, Julian was already in his seat. He looked calm and elegant, an air of nobility about him. Julian and I were sort of childhood friends. He grew up in a detached villa. I grew up in the maid’s quarters next to the villa. But kids play together regardless of status. Later, my grandma retired due to illness, and we moved to a cheap urban village. I hadn’t seen Julian since. Until this winter break, while I was busy working at a restaurant. A hesitant voice came from behind. “Stella He?” I turned around. A life-sized Julian was smiling at me. “It really is you.” Then, he transferred to our school. Said he wanted to “experience life.” I didn’t know what was so great about this life. This school was leagues below the top one. Thinking of this, I vaguely remembered that Jax’s family invested in this school. Just so Jax could have a proper high school diploma before going abroad. Julian threw a stack of workbooks at me, saying casually, “Bought too many. Don’t throw them away.” I accepted them with tears in my eyes. I really want to fight these rich people. 4 The school beauty, Chloe Chu, sat in front of us. She had wavy hair, cute cat eyes, and delicate hands with colorful manicures. But her mouth was venomous: “Stella, what’s the point of studying so hard? You’ll just end up working for me anyway.” Her family was in real estate. I chewed on my pen cap, pretending not to hear. Julian coldly pushed her hand off his desk. “Dirty.” Chloe had publicly confessed to Julian and been rejected. It was ugly. Now she had ammunition to mock him. “So the young master doesn’t like me because he likes men.” Julian was unfazed, treating her like air, continuing to explain a math problem to me. Chloe scoffed. “Nouveau riche and cold-blooded capitalist. Birds of a feather. Hope you live happily ever after.” I stopped Chloe, kindly reminding her, “Your family is nouveau riche too, but nobody wants you.” When Jax entered the classroom, Chloe was screeching, ready to slap me. He quickly blocked her sharp nails. “What are you doing? School rules say no fighting!” Funny coming from him. Considering his assembly speech was an apology for fighting street thugs. Facing two six-foot guys, Chloe slunk away resentfully. Julian glared immediately. “You again.” Jax didn’t look happy either. “Why are you haunting me?” I quickly stepped between them. “Calm down, calm down! Life is hard for everyone!” 5 The two of them fought in the principal’s office. Tacitly avoiding each other’s faces. Jax rolled up his sleeve pitifully. “Look, he bruised me.” “It’s all your fault for giving a fake name. You have to take responsibility.” Julian chuckled. “I didn’t hit you there. Stop faking it.” Seeing another argument brewing, I felt a headache coming on. I apologized to Jax first. “Sorry for lying the other day.” Then to Julian. “Sorry for ruining your reputation.” They said in unison, “Not your fault! It’s his fault!” Fine. Jax moved his desk behind mine and refused to leave. Claiming he needed to be influenced by top students. The principal couldn’t do anything, and the class went wild with screams. I won’t say who’s shipping who. I’m shipping them too. After school, I couldn’t shake Jax off. I sighed. “Jax, where are you following me to?” He can’t follow me to wash dishes. Jax blushed. “Even though I got the name wrong today, I actually like you.” I spoke righteously. “We’re in the critical period of senior year. I won’t date.” To make him give up, I added a strong dose. “And you’re not my type.” Jax got anxious. “What’s your type?” I looked him up and down, implying the opposite. “I like guys who study well, have black hair, and are serious.” The exact opposite of Jax. But he seemed happy. Dropping a “See you tomorrow,” he ran off faster than a rabbit. I quickly forgot about it. Pushing open the familiar restaurant door, I called out sweetly, “I’m here, Auntie.” Auntie poked her head out from the kitchen. “Stella, rest a bit after school.” I tied up my hair and dove into the kitchen to wash dishes. “It’s okay, Auntie. You pay me, not for resting.” Auntie sounded worried. “Two jobs a day… don’t ruin your health.” I smiled like a flower. “It’s fine, I’m not tired!” 6 When the teacher announced study groups, Julian wasn’t there. I put both our names down. Jax held my pen down, looking pitiful. “No one wants me. Can you help me study?” Jax had transformed. Blonde hair dyed back to black. Ear piercings gone. Shirt buttoned to the top, even added glasses. Looked like a total model student. I hesitated. Julian and Jax didn’t get along. And I needed Julian’s help with my studies. So I rejected him firmly. Jax’s eyes reddened instantly. “My parents never cared about me. Home is cold, so I play outside. At least people talk to me there.” “Now they want to dump me abroad. I really want to study hard and show them I’m not useless…” I was raised by my grandma. Parents were a sore spot for me. Jax spoke with such emotion, eyes misty. Finally, carried away by emotion, he said sincerely, “I can pay you five thousand a month for tutoring.” I grabbed his hand immediately. “Jax, it’s not about the money.” “Your story moved me. I won’t give up on any student who wants to improve!” “By the way, you can just transfer the fee to me!” Jax sniffled and smiled. “Then accept my friend request first, Teacher Stella.”

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