[I’m back. Do you still want me?] Staring at the text from my first love, I sank into memories and contemplation. Jason snatched my phone away, frowning deeply. “Why are you snooping on my phone?” “I told you, Seraphina is the most important person to me.” Seeing my silence, he added, “Of course, I won’t divorce you.” My eyebrow twitched. He seemed to have misunderstood. “That’s my phone you’re holding.” Jason’s face suddenly turned very ugly. “Who is this guy?” 1 [I’m back. Do you still want me?] Aside from this sentence, there was no other information, but I roughly knew who it was from. Thinking of that face, I involuntarily fell into memories. I didn’t even notice when Jason walked up behind me. He snatched my phone, brows furrowed. “Chloe, since when did you pick up the habit of snooping on other people’s phones?” I saw a hint of disgust in his eyes. Before, he was at most indifferent or dismissive towards me. He had never been so emotionally expressive… “I told you, Seraphina is the most important person to me.” I blinked. Did he tell me voluntarily? Wasn’t it because I accidentally overheard their phone call? He only confessed when he couldn’t hide it anymore. And that was after we got married. No, that wasn’t even a confession; it was a notification. Seeing I didn’t speak, he added another sentence. “Of course, I won’t divorce you.” My eyebrow twitched. His misunderstanding was thorough. I couldn’t help but remind him. “You’re holding my phone.” Jason swiped up. Only that text message was there. Indeed, it wasn’t his phone. Jason’s expression suddenly became very ugly. “Who is this guy?” 2 I knew that in this situation, the more I tried to hide it, the more suspicious Jason would be. So I explained frankly. “Should be my ex.” Jason’s grip on the phone tightened. I reminded him again before he swapped phones with me. I couldn’t blame him for the mistake; our phones looked identical. Even the text message was word-for-word the same. His Seraphina had sent him the exact same line: [I’m back. Do you still want me?] What a coincidence. The only difference was the date, a small line of text, easy to miss. Jason, who was in a hurry to leave, suddenly stopped. He sat on the sofa, seemingly casually interrogating me. “He’s your ex?” Although I had already answered him, I nodded. “Yes, my ex.” Actually, also my first love, childhood sweetheart, fiancé by arrangement. “How long did you date?” “A little over a year.” If dating counts from the first kiss, we really only dated for a little over a year. “When did you break up?” “2019.” The year before Jason and I got married. Time flies; in the blink of an eye, Jason and I have been married for almost five years. Jason’s body gradually relaxed, as if he felt the man on the other end of the phone wasn’t much of a threat. “It’s almost our fifth anniversary, let’s go to…” “Does what you said about us playing our own games still count?” Jason and I spoke at the same time and froze at the same time. He stared at the tips of his shoes, lost in thought. I had to speak first. “Where did you want to go just now?” “To the old family house.” I said “Oh.” Good thing I didn’t overthink it. If it were before, I would have definitely thought he wanted to celebrate our anniversary with me. Jason fell silent again. I looked at half of his face in the shadow. No expression, no emotion visible. I gathered my courage and asked again. “Does what you said, about playing our own games, still count?” 3 He said this himself two months ago. Maybe annoyed by my questioning, he said: “Can you stop staring at me all the time? If it really doesn’t work, we can just play our own games. You go find someone outside too.” At that time, I was so hurt I could barely breathe. But now, I was actually somewhat glad he said those words. They say time is the best director. It won’t let anyone go, but once you learn to go with the flow, it brings you some unexpected surprises. Jason laughed ambiguously. “Counts. Of course it counts.” He stood up and strode away. Before his hand touched the doorknob, he stopped. He didn’t turn back, but his voice came clearly. “Although I said we could play our own games.” “You are still my wife. Don’t be too flashy.” I responded obediently, “Okay.” Anyway, I’ll use him as the standard. I definitely won’t be setting off fireworks all over the city or getting into fistfights at banquets like him. Jason turned back to look at me. “You’d better inform the other party clearly in advance that you are married.” “Otherwise, if a scandal breaks out, it won’t be good for either of our families.” I nodded. His reminder was valid. I would tell him. I looked at Jason; he still showed no sign of leaving. “Do you have anything else to say?” His fingers unconsciously tapped his pants leg twice. “What’s his name?” “I don’t mean anything else, I’m just afraid you’ll be scammed…” I interrupted him. “Perry Pierce.” “The CEO of Pierce Tech? Peter Pierce’s son?” “Should be.” I didn’t know if he was the CEO of Pierce Tech, but Uncle Pierce’s name was indeed Peter. This time, Jason didn’t stay any longer and left without looking back. 4 Jason sat in the car, feeling irritable. But he didn’t know what he was annoyed about. Thinking of Perry Pierce, he felt relieved. He knew this person, had interacted with him once or twice. His background and looks were not inferior to his own, and he founded Pierce Tech single-handedly. Apart from his own abilities, he was also a man of pride and principles. Sending such a message, he probably didn’t know Chloe was married. Such a person wouldn’t do something so bottomless for Chloe. Moreover, Chloe didn’t have that kind of charm. The phone rang; it was Seraphina calling. He had promised to take her to a newly opened restaurant today. After three rings, he answered. “Something came up suddenly. I’ll take you next time.” Although Seraphina was a bit unhappy, she sensibly told him to busy himself with his own affairs first. See, this was the woman he liked. He liked Seraphina, who was considerate, pure, and kind, not a woman like Chloe who was sharp and insisted on piercing through everything.

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To help his struggling “apprentice” pass her exams, my boyfriend bombed his own SATs. Then, he secretly changed my college application preferences. He switched my top-choice Ivy League university to the same mid-tier state school he applied to. “We promised never to do long distance,” he said, pleading. “I messed up this one time. Can’t you just compromise for me?” Before I could speak, his “apprentice” started crying. “It’s all my fault. I’m too stupid to get into a good school. But my mentor promised we’d go to the same college. I really can’t make it without him. You understand, right, Zoe?” They thought the application deadline had passed and I had no choice but to accept it. Little did they know, I had already changed it back. 1 The day before the college application deadline, I discovered my top choice had been changed from Stanford to Southern State University. One is a top-tier institution; the other is an average state school thousands of miles away. My grades had always been top three in my year. I crushed the SATs, scoring 1580. I worked myself to the bone for years, day and night, just for Stanford. Staring at “Southern State University” on the screen, I broke into a cold sweat despite the summer heat. My hands trembled so much I typed the wrong password twice before finally logging in and changing it back. Our guidance counselor had stressed the importance of account security a million times. Every year, stories circulate about students sabotaging each other. My password? Only one other person knew it. My childhood sweetheart and boyfriend, Liam. The next evening, I went to find him. “Zoe! Why didn’t you call first?” Liam had just showered. He walked towards me, towel-drying his wet hair, smiling. “Today is the deadline,” I said. He froze for a second, then looked up with an unnatural expression. “Yeah, finally over. We can relax. Our hiking trip is finally happening.” “Where did you apply?” “Huh?” He played dumb for a second, then looked sheepish under my glare. “Well, I didn’t do great… so I applied to Southern State. It’s a decent school…” “So you secretly changed my application?” I didn’t have the patience to dance around it. My voice trembled as I shouted. “How is it ‘secretly’? Zoe, that’s harsh.” I had imagined a thousand reactions—shame, apology, regret. But I never expected this shamelessness. “Didn’t we agree to go to the same college? No long distance? Could you really bear to be apart for four years?” Liam stepped closer, looking into my eyes, trying to charm me. “But you could have applied to other schools nearby! We could still be in the same city!” He knew Stanford was my dream. Cornered, he got defensive. “Okay, okay, Zoe, don’t be mad. I didn’t think it through. But it’s done. Southern State isn’t bad, and your major is strong there. Better to be a big fish in a small pond. We can transfer later. You’re smart; you’ll be a top student anywhere.” He reached out to hug me. I slapped his hand away with all my strength. “No!” Even though I was disappointed the moment I saw the change, hearing him say these things to my face felt like a physical blow. “Why? What about my three years of hard work? What gives you the right to decide my future? Changing someone’s application is illegal, you know that?” I screamed, crying hysterically, ignoring the passersby. Liam clutched his red arm, stunned. “Mentor, are you okay? Zoe, how could you hit him? It’s my fault! Hit me if you want, don’t take it out on him!” Bella popped out of nowhere, throwing herself onto Liam, inspecting his arm with exaggerated concern. “Mentor made a bet with me. He tutored me before the exams, promising he’d go to the same college if I didn’t get into a top-tier school.” 2 Bella’s eyes were red as she shielded Liam, looking at me with tear-filled eyes. “Zoe, I’m sorry. I’m just too stupid. Mentor helped me so much, but I still dragged him down. I wish I was smart like you, getting high scores without even trying.” She turned back to Liam, sobbing. “Mentor, I’m so dumb.” Liam hated seeing people cry. In the past, if I cried, he would panic regardless of who was right. But now, the person making him panic wasn’t me. “Bella, don’t say that. You worked hard. You went from regular classes to honors and got into college. I won’t let you talk about yourself like that. My apprentice can’t be this weak.” Liam rubbed Bella’s head, helpless but firm, like he was comforting a child. I knew that expression well. He used to do that to me when I broke down over math problems. But ever since Bella joined our class, that spot belonged to her. “How do you know I didn’t work hard? What makes you think my scores came easily?” I stared coldly at their intimacy. Bella flinched like a frightened bird, then stammered an apology. “Sorry, Zoe, I didn’t mean that. I’m just clumsy with words. I meant to praise you. Unlike me… Mentor helped so much, and I still failed.” Her voice faded into sobs again. I seriously suspected Bella was a humidifier in a past life; she leaked water constantly. I was used to her act and wanted to ignore it, but Liam snapped first. He pulled Bella behind him, frowning at me. “Enough, Zoe. Bella is already sad about her scores. Can you stop rubbing salt in the wound?” “So, you’re going to Southern State for her? And dragging me with you?” Hit by the truth, Liam lost his fire and looked down. “I don’t care about your teacher-student bond. I scored 1580. Why should I go to a mid-tier school?” Something I said triggered him. He looked up, glaring. “Zoe, you’ve changed. We promised to go to college together. Just because I slipped up once, you’re abandoning me?” They say you become who you hang out with. Hanging out with Bella turned Liam into a gaslighting victim-player. “If I wanted to abandon you, I would have done it when you were skipping school in middle school. Instead, I dragged you back to class and sacrificed my sleep to tutor you. I lost ten pounds before the entrance exams.” Thinking of the past, I choked up, tears finally falling. Seeing me cry, Liam let go of Bella and reached for me. Instinctively, I took a step back. His arm froze in mid-air. He paused, then slowly clenched his fist. “Zoe, how long are you going to keep this up? Are we really doing this?” “Yes. We are.” “Fine. Whatever. You’ve brought up breaking up so many times this year, and it always ends the same way. Calm down and think about it.” With that, he turned, put his arm around Bella, and walked away. 3 The cicadas were deafening. The humid summer night air was suffocating. Watching them walk away, my heart sank. Liam and I grew up together. True childhood sweethearts. In middle school, Liam’s dad gambled away their money and divorced his mom, who left and never returned. He was left with his grandma, who ran a small dessert shop. It was a rebellious age. Liam started cutting class, hanging out at internet cafes, smoking, drinking, riding motorcycles with thugs. I couldn’t watch him ruin himself. I dragged him out of internet cafes and karaoke bars time after time. At first, he cursed me out. Until one day, some thugs harassed me while I was looking for him. Liam went berserk and fought them, getting pretty banged up. After that, he stopped skipping. He let me tutor him, looking at me with shining eyes, blushing when our gazes met. We were too young to understand love, but I remember him saying: “Zoe, I’ll listen to you from now on. High school, college, grad school… I want to be with you forever.” His confession was sincere and passionate, a pebble dropped into the spring of my heart, creating ripples that lasted for years. Liam was smart. Once he tried, his grades soared. We got into the same high school, the same honors class. The honors class was the top 40 students, taught by the best teachers, moving fast, aiming for Ivy Leagues. Anyone in the top 40 could get in, but in three years, only one person tested in from a regular class: Bella. 4 In the first semester of senior year, a pretty girl with pigtails transferred into our class and became Liam’s deskmate. She was lively, beautiful, and completely out of place among the other 39 of us. She snacked in class, listened to music, read novels, and did her makeup. She couldn’t keep up with the curriculum but didn’t care. She just pestered Liam whenever homework was due. At first, Liam was annoyed and cold. Bella didn’t give up. She announced to the class: “From now on, you’re my mentor, and I’m your apprentice. Mentor, please accept my bow!” From then on, wherever Liam was, Bella was there. Liam’s attitude shifted subtly. Whenever I discussed problems with Liam, Bella would appear, shoving a cold Coke into his hand, asking innocently: “Mentor, what are you talking about? Are you tutoring Zoe behind my back? Waaah, I’m your apprentice! You’re biased!” She’d playfully hit his chest, giggling. And Liam… he would smile slightly. I felt a surge of annoyance, slamming my book shut. “Bella, wake up. I’m third in the grade. He’s tenth.” She didn’t understand jealousy, she just weaponized her feelings. Liam’s eyes darkened. He shoved the Coke into my hand and took Bella back to her seat. The cold bottle woke me up. I didn’t drink it. It spilled in my desk later, sticky and gross. Liam fully embraced the “mentor” role, tutoring her day and night. Our study weekends became three-person events. One evening, Bella gathered candles and sparklers. On our way home, she staged a romantic confession. She stood in the candlelight, waving sparklers, shouting Liam’s name. “Mentor, thank you for taking care of me. I know I’m trouble, but I really like you. I want to be with you forever. You don’t have to respond, just let me follow your footsteps.” A crowd gathered. Liam, holding my hand, instinctively let go. “What’s happening? Honors class drama?” “Aren’t Liam and Zoe a couple? Is Bella a homewrecker?” “Yeah, shameless. Heard she cheated to get into the honors class.” … The whispers grew louder. Bella looked like she was about to cry. Liam stepped forward, took her hand, and led her through the crowd, disappearing from view. I was left standing there, the center of attention. Pointing fingers, whispers, looks of pity, curiosity, mockery… it felt like death by a thousand cuts. The next day, Liam explained he didn’t want Bella to be embarrassed. “What about me? What about my embarrassment?” He laughed like I told a joke. “Zoe, stop it. What’s embarrassing? Someone confessing to your boyfriend makes you look good! Besides, I told her I like you. She agreed to just be my apprentice.” He swore up and down, making me feel like the unreasonable one. I felt something detach inside me. The anger and hurt faded into numbness. Just like now, watching them disappear, my heart was still.

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Five years into our marriage, I asked Caleb for a divorce. “Just because it rained and I drove her home instead of picking you up?” “Yes!” “Don’t joke about divorce.” His face darkened. “What if I took you seriously? What would you do then?” We dated for eight years, married for five. After the wedding, I became a housewife. He was convinced I couldn’t live without him. Little did he know, I had already passed the entrance exams for grad school at my alma mater. I was ready to leave. 1 “I’m not joking,” I said, looking straight at him. Caleb put down his sandwich and sighed. “Chloe, I really don’t have time for your drama today. Can you just behave?” He grabbed his suit jacket from the back of the chair and headed for the door. “Work is exhausting. Sometimes I wish you’d consider my feelings.” I froze. I didn’t consider his feelings? Because of his words years ago—”Don’t go into archaeology, I can’t rest easy with you running off to remote places”—I turned down my professor’s offer for grad school. I stayed where he could see me every day. Because of that, my professor was so angry he stopped replying to my holiday greetings. And now, I get accused of not considering his feelings! Before he reached the door, the sound of the smart lock unlocking echoed. Accompanied by a crisp female voice, Lily walked in. “Mr. Xing, today’s meeting is crucial. We’re going to be late!” Caleb instantly looked panicked. “It’s not what you think! Once I was drunk and Secretary Lin drove me home, so she knows the passcode.” Lily walked in, apologizing to me with an embarrassed look. “Chloe, I’m sorry, I was just in a hurry…” “In a hurry enough to barge in without knocking? Do you know that’s trespassing?” I cut off the woman standing before me—a woman who looked about 30% like me. Lily bit her lip in fear, looking at Caleb pitifully like a frightened bunny. He looked at me disapprovingly. “Chloe, don’t bully the girl.” “Girl? Caleb, you used to call me that too! You hire a secretary who looks like me, and now you’re calling her ‘girl’? I’m not dead yet, and you’re already playing the replacement game?” Caleb looked like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. “Chloe Tang, you’ve gone too far! I’m busy with work, I’m not dealing with your nonsense!” He turned and left. Lily trotted after him like a little wife. 2 I was unhappy when Caleb first hired Lily. Her resume didn’t meet the requirements at all. Caleb said at the time: “Chloe, I don’t know why, but seeing her reminds me of you back then. I don’t know how much you suffered before we met, so I wanted to give her a chance, for your sake.” “If she doesn’t perform well during probation, I’ll let her go.” Later, Lily made a mistake on a quote that cost the company a huge sum. Caleb hid it. He used his personal savings to cover the loss. When I questioned him, he brushed it off lightly: “That was my fault too, I signed it without checking carefully.” Later, Lily passed her probation and became General Manager Xing’s Secretary Lin. That afternoon, while I was packing my things, my phone rang. “Chloe, check Little Blue Book (Xiaohongshu) right now,” my best friend Sarah said. I logged in while listening to Sarah rant: “I just saw a post from someone called ‘Nth Day of Crushing on My Boss.’ The blogger posted a photo, and it looks exactly like your Caleb!” I searched the ID Sarah gave me. A photo of a man drinking in profile popped up. It was Caleb! And the half-face next to him was undeniably Lily! The caption read: The post was viral, comments filled with people asking for updates, liking, and shipping them. Scrolling through her profile, it was all about her and “Boss.” To an outsider, it looked sweetly romantic. “Chloe, who is this bitch? I’m gonna roast her!” Sarah was typing furiously. I said, “Forget it, it’s not worth it.” Sarah was confused. “Sarah, I’m tired. Let’s talk tomorrow.” Night fell deep. At 11 PM, Caleb finally came home. He placed a thermos on the dining table. “Chloe, I brought you some chicken soup. You look thin lately, drink some.” My heart soured. I saw the watch on his wrist. A cheap brand, the one I gave him in college. His closet was full of expensive watches now, but he always wore this one. 3 “Chloe, it’s only been two weeks, how did you lose so much weight?” Sarah asked in shock as soon as she saw me. I brushed it off and asked her: “How’s your auction house doing?” At this, Sarah smiled with satisfaction. “Your advice last time really worked. The last few auctions I planned were huge successes. Chloe, thanks to you, my auction house is actually running!” Sarah was exaggerating. She was a trust fund baby, loaded. Opening an auction house was pocket change for her. But she lacked expertise. I had been interested in history since childhood and got into the best archaeology program in the country. Outside of school, I appraised artifacts for free on social media. I saved her from being scammed a few times, so she gave me a position as a technical consultant. And 10% of the shares. Now the auction house was doing well. If I divorced Caleb, these shares were my safety net. “Sarah, I plan to divorce.” Sarah laughed. “Chloe, do you believe that yourself? Since you started dating in sophomore year, you’ve broken up every ten days or so, always initiated by you.” “And the result? As soon as Caleb apologizes and coaxes you, you two are sweet as honey again. After all these years, do you think you can leave him?” I was silent, telling myself, this time is different. Sarah grabbed her purse. “I know, it’s about that post, right? Come on, I’ll go with you to clear things up.” I hadn’t been to his company in a while, so I didn’t refuse. We arrived downstairs at Caleb’s office. In the elevator, two female employees were chatting. “Hey, when do you think that little vixen Lily will bag Mr. Xing?” “I think she already has. Mr. Xing eats the ‘love lunch’ she brings every day. Would he do that if she hadn’t?” “I can’t stand it. A graduate from a diploma mill bossing us around just because the boss likes her? I hope Mrs. Xing finds out and beats that bitch!” “Unlikely. I heard his wife is a housewife. Even if she knew, she’d probably swallow it. Pathetic!” Ding! The elevator doors opened, and they walked out. Sarah couldn’t hold back anymore. “Chloe, why didn’t you tell me Caleb cheated?” I said objectively, “Maybe he hasn’t, maybe it’s just flirting.” Sarah looked at me like I was hopeless. “You don’t even care?” How could I not care? “Then guess why I want a divorce?” 4 Sarah stopped talking. When we reached the GM’s floor, she dragged me angrily toward the office. Just as she pulled open Caleb’s door. A figure holding lunch boxes darted out and crashed right into me. Lunch boxes clattered to the floor, splashing grease all over my clothes. It was Lily! “Watch where you’re going! Don’t you look before opening a door?” Sarah angrily took out tissues to wipe me down, but how do you wipe off grease stains? I stared blankly at the lunch boxes on the floor. One pink, one blue. Identical styles, just different colors. Like a couple’s set. “Chloe? Why are you here? Are you hurt? Your clothes are dirty, I’ll take you to buy a new one later.” Caleb finished and looked at Lily. “You’re a grown girl, why so flustered?” It was a scolding, but I heard the affection in it. Sarah noticed Lily’s looks, her eyes darting between us. I looked up at Caleb. “What were you doing?” Caleb was visibly panicked. Lily spoke up: “Chloe, don’t blame me for talking too much. Mr. Xing is so busy every day, and no one cares if he eats. I couldn’t stand it, and to thank him for taking care of me, I brought him lunch. Don’t be mad. Oh, and I’ll wash your clothes for you!” I turned to look at her. Before I could speak, Sarah sneered: “You sure care a lot about someone else’s husband.” “And the oil is soaked in. Even if you wash it, it’ll smell. If you want it, take it. You’re buying a new one.” Lily bit her lip and looked at Caleb. Caleb tried to mediate. “Chloe, Lily is young and doesn’t know how to talk. But she can’t afford your dress with a month’s salary. She just graduated, don’t make it hard for her. I’ll buy you a new one, okay?” Sarah was fuming. “Caleb Xing, if you can’t speak, shut up! You’ll pay for her? What’s your relationship? Are you her dad or her grandpa?” I turned to Lily. “What do you say?” She actually glared at me. “Chloe, Mr. Xing works so hard to earn money, and you just sit at home enjoying the fruits of his labor. Why bully people? You bought the dress with his money anyway, and he said it’s fine.” I raised an eyebrow. Caleb spoke up: “Lily! You’ve said too much. Chloe and I are one. My money is her money. There’s no ‘enjoying the fruits’!” Lily looked shocked, tears streaming down her face, and ran out. Caleb started to chase her, then realized it was inappropriate. He handed me a card ingratiatingly: “Alright wifey, don’t be mad anymore. I really have nothing going on with her. I have to work. Let Sarah take you to buy a clean outfit.” I didn’t take it. I turned and walked away.

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1 A month ago, I started dating a guy online. He said he wanted to send me a birthday gift. Right after my noon class let out, I got a call from a delivery driver. He insisted I sign for it in person. When I saw what it was, my roommates and I just stared at each other. Even after carrying the package back to our dorm, we were still in shock. “Wait, he actually sent it?” Snapping out of it, my roommates immediately got suspicious. “It’s gotta be fake, right? Who just sends a bag worth thousands like it’s nothing?” “Is he trying to bait you with a fake bag? Like one of those scams where they lure you overseas?” Real or fake? There’s only one way to find out. My roommates and I started scouring the internet for authentication guides and videos. After an hour of intense research, we finally confirmed it. This creamy white lambskin flap bag. It’s real. It’s the latest Chanel summer collection. Current official price: $8,700. !!! Oh my god. I snagged a real-life rich heir. 2 I met Gavin playing a mobile MOBA game. I was playing as a mage, a squishy little character. He was the assassin on the enemy team. Within the first five minutes, he killed me three times. But I thrive on adversity. Remembering the shiny “VIP 10” badge on his loading screen—meaning he’d spent a fortune on the game—I decided to shoot my shot. Me: “Big brother keeps targeting me, do you have a crush on me?” Gavin: “With skills like yours, you really have no self-awareness, do you?” Me: “Wow, big brother is so good! A Pentakill!” Gavin: “You don’t need to tell me.” Me: “Big brother, I just passed my English exam today, and right now I really want to say something to you.” Gavin: “?” Me: “Be my CP (Couple Partner)~” Gavin: “…What kind of delusional toad are you?” Under my barrage of flattery, the assassin only hunted me harder. I ended the game with a score of 0-17-2. My teammates didn’t say a word. They just reported me. I was fuming. I clicked on the assassin’s profile. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5… Seven national ranking badges. Five state ranking badges. I was blinded by the brilliance. VIP 10, all skins unlocked, cool profile pic, zero intimate relationships listed, insane win rate. Could I let a carry like this get away? Me: “Hi big brother, wanna roleplay? Pretend to be my boyfriend and carry me to the top rank~” I sent a friend request immediately. Rejected, as expected. I invited him to a lobby. Rejected. Rejected. Rejected again. Finally, after a dozen tries, he must have slipped and clicked accept. I didn’t waste a second. I started the game instantly. “Big brother, can I play as the support fairy?” I used my most sugary, cutesy voice. Gavin: “Whatever.” “Yay, thank you big brother!” Gavin: “Don’t mention it. Just my karma catching up to me.” “……..” That game, Gavin played the dashing swordsman. With his limited-edition skin, my default-skin fairy looked pathetic next to him. From the start, I shamelessly stuck to him. My mouth was sweeter than honey; I even made myself blush with the compliments. Gavin, who usually never used voice chat, couldn’t take it anymore. “Shut up. You’re distracting my hands.” His voice was deep and husky. It made my heart flutter. So I complimented him even harder. “Big brother, your voice is so nice…” “Wow, big brother’s predictions are spot on! So cool!” “Big brother… Big brother…” The game ended amidst a chorus of “big brothers.” It was the first time I truly enjoyed playing support. 3 “A girl chasing a guy is only separated by a layer of yarn,” as the saying goes. After the game, I successfully added Gavin as a friend. Every night, my mission was to camp online and wait for him. After a few nights, I got his number. But Gavin was ice cold. My messages often went unanswered. But I didn’t care. It only took a few taps of my finger. I got to use his shared skins and get carried by his skills. Gaining a few extra stars every night. Why not? I even looked up flirting techniques online. My pickup lines never repeated. Maybe he was moved by my sincerity. One time, I used my sickeningly sweet voice in-game again: “Big brother, we’ve known each other for 392 hours, 45 minutes, and 17 seconds. Has your heart not fluttered for your little sweetie yet?” “You know, in this world, besides the scammers in Southeast Asia, no one else would pour their heart out to you like this.” “So, would you be willing to…” “What’s the benefit of being your CP?” Gavin cut me off over voice chat. His voice was calm and collected, but I saw a glimmer of hope. “If big brother becomes my CP, I’ll only play with you from now on, and I’ll only protect you~” “You? Protect me?” Gavin chuckled, full of mockery for my gaming skills. It was rare to hear him laugh. I knew I had a chance, so I doubled down: “Yeah! Big brother is my precious little baby. If anyone touches you, I’ll chase them down and bite them!” Gavin laughed again. Low and deep, incredibly seductive. “Fine. Remember what you said.” See. What did I tell you? No one can resist sweet talk. If they do? You just aren’t being sweet enough. 4 And just like that, Gavin and I were “dating.” Compared to before, he was noticeably gentler. Before, if I accidentally stole his blue buff, he’d be passive-aggressive the whole game. Now… “Oops, sorry big brother, I accidentally took your blue.” “I saw. Do you want a cookie?” “Ah, big brother, I didn’t mean to steal your Pentakill, please don’t be mad, okay?” “I’m not mad. At you?” “……..” Now he could only be passive-aggressive for half the game. Because for the second half, I’d get mad. Gavin probably noticed. Neither of us spoke for the rest of the match. When the game ended, I sulked and said I was done playing. Gavin was silent for a moment. Then suddenly said, “Sorry.” I instinctively retorted: “If sorry was useful, why would Chanel make so many bags?” I realized what I said as soon as the words left my mouth. Embarrassed, I quickly exited the lobby. A few minutes later. Gavin sent me pictures of several Chanel bags. Gavin: “Which one do you want?” I laughed. Trying to buy me off with a bag? Does he think I’m that shallow? Me: “How did big brother know my birthday is coming up? This is too expensive, isn’t it?” Me: “I want the creamy white one! Big brother is the best, thank you big brother, love you forever~ (heart)” Heh. Turns out, I am exactly that shallow. 5 Gavin didn’t mention the bag for the next two days. He just invited me to play games as usual. I realized later that he was probably just joking that day. Those bags in the pictures cost as much as my family makes in a year. I didn’t want to call him out and embarrass him. After all, he was a great carry in-game. But I never expected him to actually send the bag! 6 Me: “Big brother, does it look good?” I put on a new dress I bought. Slung the bag over my shoulder. Asked my roommates to take dozens of photos. Selected the best one. Spent half an hour editing it before sending. I didn’t show my face in the photo, leaving everything to Gavin’s imagination. After a while. Gavin: “Photoshopped?” I was about to deny it. Gavin: “The bed frame is bent like a snake.” Me: “……..” Okay, fine. First time using Photoshop, lack of experience. Gavin didn’t seem to care much and just told me to hop online. I had no classes that afternoon. I logged on, full of fighting spirit. This time, I was really treating Gavin like the God of Wealth. “Big brother is so thoughtful, did you give bags to your ex-girlfriends too?” “No.” “Then I’m so luc…” “She wasn’t materialistic.” “And she wasn’t as thick-skinned as you, asking for things outright.” “……..” It’s fine, it’s fine. $8,700. $8,700. I spent a minute calming myself down. I feigned anger: “Since big brother thinks of me that way, I’ll return the bag to you.” A normal guy wouldn’t ask for a gift back. “Okay.” But… Gavin isn’t a normal person!! “Kidding. Keep it.” My puffed-up cheeks deflated instantly. I grinned through gritted teeth: “Big brother, I love you so much~” “Mm. I love myself too.” 7 I felt like I suddenly figured out Gavin’s personality. On the surface, he scoffed at my flattery. But deep down, he was grinning ear to ear. It had only been a month. And he’d already gifted me 43 skins. Turning my account, which originally only had a $1 starter pack, into a whale account. At lunch in the cafeteria, I wanted to nurture feelings with my online boyfriend. So I snapped a photo of my tray and sent it. Me: “It’s noon! Big brother, eat well, don’t be picky with your food.” Gavin immediately transferred me $520. Gavin: “Please go eat something decent. I don’t want people saying I abuse my girlfriend.” My eyes lit up. I accepted it instantly. Me: “Thanks, Young Master.” Me: “Young Master is generous.” Gavin: “?” I quickly recalled the messages and retyped. Me: “Thanks big brother, big brother is the best.” Me: “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to eat until I’m chubby.” I felt like I found a business opportunity. Drinking boba, send a pic to Gavin. Me: “Today’s lemonade is sweet, but not as sweet as my lips. Does big brother want a taste?” Him: [Transferred $1,314] Shopping for clothes, send a pic to Gavin. Me: “Big brother, which dress looks better? I can’t decide, help me pick one?” Him: [Transferred $9,999] Him: “Why hesitate over a cheap dress? Buy them all.” Walking past a real estate office, send a pic to Gavin. Me: “Big brother, look, these houses are so nice. Wonder if I’ll ever get to live in one.” Him: “……..” Him: “Too far.” I clutched my phone and giggled like an idiot. I thought Gavin was kinda cute lately. 8 Gaming at night. Gavin and I were about to start when someone joined the lobby. “Young Master, carry m…” Before he could finish, Gavin kicked him. A second later, he joined again. “Bro, Bro, I was wrong, please don’t kick!” The guy pleaded. Gavin was impatient: “Spit it out.” The guy laughed creepily. “Hehe, playing duos is boring. Let’s 5-stack, Bro. Let us meet Sister-in-law.” “Sister-in-law, I’m Zach. Can we play together?” Being called “Sister-in-law” made me shy; I couldn’t even speak. But Gavin… something in that sentence must have pleased him, because he agreed. Soon, two more people joined. One had an anime boy avatar, ID “Loves Only One.” The other had an atmospheric, aesthetic girl avatar, ID “Zoey.” “Long time no see, Gavin.” The beauty greeted Gavin immediately. My heart sank. I sensed trouble. Gavin gave a faint “Mm” and started the game. Hero selection screen. I was about to pick the support fairy as usual. The beauty spoke up: “I’ll play support. I want to protect the new little sister.” And she pre-selected the fairy. I didn’t think much of it. I picked my best mage, Luna. Then the enemy team picked the invisible assassin. At the start, the fairy followed me. Level 2, the assassin ganked me. I panicked, flashed in the wrong direction, and gave up First Blood. “Sorry, I…” “It’s okay, you did great,” the fairy comforted me. Zach chimed in too. “Don’t worry Sister-in-law, if that assassin touches you again, I’ll run him over with my boat.” Maybe because I’d been playing support lately, my mage skills were rusty. Plus, with the fairy riding on my head, I felt even more nervous. The more nervous I got, the more mistakes I made. Within seven minutes, I died four times. And the fairy died with me three times. “Can’t read the map?” Gavin spoke his first words since the game started. My fingers tightened around my phone.

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I grew up in a household with just me and my younger brother, but my mom always claimed she wasn’t the type to favor boys over girls. Then, she needed surgery. She pulled me aside and whispered, “Don’t tell your brother. He’s never been close to me since he was little. If he knows I need surgery, he’ll just complain.” I was about to tear up at her thoughtfulness when suddenly, a stream of floating text—like live comments on a video stream—scrolled across my vision. [Poor heroine. She still thinks her mom actually cares about her. The old lady just doesn’t want her precious son to worry.] [Ugh, I’m so sick of this saintly pushover MC. She’s just sacrificing herself for nothing. It’s making my blood boil.] My hand, holding out my debit card, froze in mid-air. Suddenly, I didn’t want to pay anymore. 1 After reading those floating comments, my grip on the card tightened instinctively. My mom looked at me, confused. Seeing me refusing to let go of the card, her expression soured immediately. “Maya, what’s wrong?” “Don’t tell me you don’t want to pay for your mother’s hospital bills?” “I don’t want to spend your money either, honey, but you know I don’t have any cash on hand.” My brain was still buzzing, but my hand moved on its own. I yanked the card back. Because as she spoke, another wave of comments rolled past my eyes. [This mom lies as easily as she breathes. ‘No money’? She’s hoarding every cent to buy a house for her son.] [Her calculations are elite. She keeps her own savings untouched and plays the victim so her daughter pays for everything.] [Masterclass in gaslighting. She keeps saying she’s not traditional, says she’s not close to the son, just to trick the daughter into being a willing cash cow.] I shoved the card back into my purse. I looked at my mom and asked, “Mom, you take home $3,000 a month. I pay the water, electricity, and HOA fees. I buy the groceries, the rice, even the toilet paper. Where has your salary gone all these years?” My mom froze. In her memory, I had always been the obedient, sensible one. She often told me stories about how her own parents favored her brother and mistreated her, swearing she would never be like them. Since I could remember, she acted closer to me than to my brother, Caleb. When we went out, she’d introduce me as, “This is my baby girl, my little emotional support jacket.” For years, I was grateful. I thought I was lucky not to be the neglected daughter. So, I worked harder to be good. Because she “wasn’t close” to Caleb, I took care of her when she was sick. I handled the household chores. Even after I graduated and got a job, Caleb moved out, while my paycheck naturally went into the household expenses. Thinking of this, a realization hit me. My mom grabbed my hand, explaining frantically, “The money for your college tuition, I borrowed it! And the debts our family had before, I paid them all off! Maya, what do you mean by this? Are you abandoning your mother?” I didn’t want to argue about the past. I just wanted to know one thing. “Mom, are you saving up to buy a house for Caleb?” Her face went pale instantly. But she denied it immediately. “What nonsense is that? Where would I get the money for a house? Besides, even if I had money, I wouldn’t buy it for him. We aren’t close. I don’t expect him to take care of me in my old age.” The floating comments scrolled faster. [This woman is incredible. Lying through her teeth. She saves every dime for the son and even skimps on the daughter’s food budget to subsidize him.] [Exactly. The MC got gastroenteritis last week because she drank expired milk. Her mom bought a clearance box for $5 but charged the daughter $20 for it.] [She’s too manipulative. She loves the son to death but pretends to favor the daughter just to suck her blood dry openly and legally.] Watching the text float by, a chill ran down my spine. I took a step back. Seeing me pull away, Mom immediately put on a heartbroken face. “Maya, what’s gotten into you? Why are you comparing yourself to your brother? Have I ever favored him over you? Don’t you know better?” I shook my head. “Mom, you didn’t favor him. You favored me. That’s why I had to help with chores while Caleb watched TV. That’s why I couldn’t apply to colleges out of state because I had to stay close to take care of you, while Caleb could go wherever he wanted.” Hearing this, Mom’s face turned ugly. “Maya, you know I can’t live without you. I wanted to keep you close.” I shook my head again. “That’s not it.” I pulled out my phone and dialed Caleb’s number. “Caleb, Mom is hospitalized and needs surgery. The doctors need to discuss the procedure. I’m just a woman, I can’t make these big decisions alone. You’re the only man in the family. Get down here, or I won’t dare sign the consent forms.” I didn’t wait for his answer. I hung up. Mom lost it. She jumped up and got in my face. “Why did you call him?! You’re distracting him!” “He’s busy with a new project at work! He barely sleeps! Why would you worry him?!” I stared at her coldly. “How do you know he’s working on a new project? Mom, didn’t you say you aren’t close? Didn’t you say that because he went corporate instead of working for the government like you wanted, you weren’t going to get involved in his life?” Mom choked. She awkwardly explained, “I didn’t mean to pry, I just… heard it from a relative. I don’t get along with him, why would I care?” “Maya, you know we fight. Don’t make him come here, we’ll just argue.” Looking at the desperation in her eyes, my heart turned to ice. I used to pride myself on having a mother who wasn’t misogynistic. Now I knew the truth. Her misogyny was just advanced. She had fooled me for twenty-something years. I pressed my lips together. “Mom, don’t worry. When he gets here, I won’t let you see each other. No fighting. I just need him to discuss the surgery and the cost allocation with the doctor.” Mom immediately spoke up. “Cost? Your brother has no money!” I glared at her. “And I do? If he has no money, do I have a money printing machine?” Actually, I did have money. I had a side hustle that was doing well. I had planned to surprise her with a lump sum once I saved enough. Thank God I never got the chance. Mom sighed. “Even if you don’t have it, go borrow it. When I get better, you can pay it back slowly.” “Borrow it?” I laughed out loud. “Mom, we are both your children. Why am I the only one responsible when you’re sick?” I turned and walked out of the ward. The comments were flying. [The Heroine finally awakened! About time!] [She woke up, but all the money she gave her mom is gone. What a waste.] [Especially since that money is all going to the brother’s down payment. That was her hard-earned cash. So frustrating.] Reading the comments, an idea formed in my mind. I took a taxi straight home. I went into my mom’s bedroom and started searching. I found all the gold bracelets, necklaces, and rings I had bought her over the years. Then I found her bank book. Balance: $50,000. I took a photo immediately. Then, I took all the gold jewelry to a friend who buys gold and cashed it all out. Next, I opened the extended family Group Chat and started my performance. “Aunts, Uncles, please talk some sense into my mom. She needs surgery, but she thinks $20,000 is too expensive. She wants to come home and give up treatment. I can’t convince her. What should I do?” The first to reply was my nosy Aunt Karen. She hated my mom. “Maya, is your mom broke? Let me tell you, we are all broke too. Don’t ask us for money.” I immediately posted the photo of the bank book. “I wasn’t going to ask to borrow money! Mom has money. All my salary has gone to her for years, plus her pension. She has $50,000 sitting there. I just want you guys to tell her that saving money isn’t worth dying for. $50,000 is just a down payment for Caleb, but if she doesn’t get treated, she won’t be around to see the house!” The group chat exploded. Aunt Karen: “Wow. Your mom is two-faced. She always talks about how sons are useless and daughters are reliable, but she’s hoarding the daughter’s money to buy the son a house?” Cousin Jen: “Honestly, Aunt Linda is too much. Hoarding that much cash but always crying poor? I saw her buying expired milk last week. Maya, did she feed that to you?” Cousin Beth: “Maya, you’re in a tough spot. Is she trying to make you pay for the whole hospital bill?” I typed quickly: “I called Caleb, but Mom won’t let him come. I can’t decide on the surgery alone. I’m just a girl, what do I know?” “Please, go talk to her. She’s at City General, Room 302…” Seconds after I hit send, my phone rang. It was Mom. I picked up, and her scream nearly shattered my eardrum. “Maya! What nonsense are you spouting in the group chat?! Why did you go through my stuff? You’re eyeing my money? Have you no shame?!” 2 Listening to her roar, I could imagine the vein popping on her forehead. I smiled, but kept my voice sincere and panicked. “Mom, I’m sorry! I misunderstood you at the hospital. I thought you spent all the money, but you saved it! That’s great! Now we can pay for the surgery!” Mom yelled immediately, “No!” “That money is for… other uses. It cannot be touched.” I laughed lightly. “Mom, do you want to die?” She choked. “You unfilial brat! How dare you talk to me like that? Of course I don’t want to die!” “Then figure out the surgery fee yourself.” “Heh—” I scoffed. “Mom, I don’t have money. I gave you my paycheck every month.” Mom countered, “If you don’t have it, borrow it! Anyway, my savings cannot be touched. Maya, if you dare touch my money, I will fight you to the death.” I was too lazy to argue. I hung up. I recorded the entire conversation. Immediately after, I called my brother, Caleb. He answered impatiently. “Maya, you know I’m not close with Mom. She treats you like a princess. This isn’t my problem.” I laughed. “Caleb, close or not, you are her son. She never abused you, never made you do chores, and gave you the best of everything. Now you’re saying you won’t help when she’s dying? Do you have a conscience?” “Also, Mom said you’re busy with a project. If you don’t show up, I’m coming to your office. If you can’t get time off, I’ll go ask your boss for you.” That scared him. “Fine! You’re crazy. I’m coming.” I hung up, my face void of expression. I looked at the contact name: Caleb. A strong, solid name. My birth name? Tiny. I changed it to Maya myself when I got older because Tiny was humiliating. Even our names showed her bias. From the moment I was born, everything was different. The so-called “favoritism” toward me was just a lie to keep me compliant. But it didn’t matter. I didn’t care anymore. 3 I sold the gold. Since gold prices were up, I got $8,000 back—more than I paid. I transferred all the money to a secure account. Looking up, the comments were scrolling again. [I like the MC so much better now that she stopped being a doormat. Well done!] [She finally stopped begging for imaginary motherly love. It hurts, but seeing the truth is better.] [Exactly. She was just a blood bag before. It was infuriating.] [Now the mom is screwed. She built that ‘feminist mom’ persona, and now the relatives are going to the hospital to roast her.] I checked my social media feed. Sure enough, several relatives had posted. One even posted a TikTok video from the hospital room. I remembered how my mom used to brag to relatives about being “different.” While others desperately wanted sons, she claimed she loved her daughter and that sons were “debt collectors.” By establishing this persona, she felt superior. She loved stirring up drama between my aunts and their daughters, then turning to me and saying, “See how lucky you are? I’d never treat you like that.” Back then, I thought I was the luckiest girl in the world. Now, I wanted to go back in time and slap myself awake. Thanks to the floating comments, I knew the relatives stayed in her room all afternoon, creating chaos until evening. Once they left, Mom called me. I was at the market buying groceries. I ignored the call. After I got home, I finally answered her twentieth attempt. Her weak, trembling voice came through. “Maya… where are you? Why aren’t you here? I’m so lonely… I haven’t even eaten…” I sneered internally but put on a voice even weaker than hers. “Mom… I don’t know what happened. I think I have a fever. I took some medicine and passed out. I didn’t hear the phone.” “Mom, I need to rest. I can’t come to the hospital. If you’re hungry, ask the nurse or order DoorDash…” Hearing this, Mom dropped the act instantly. “Maya! What kind of bullsh*t is that? You dare not come? It’s just a fever, take a Tylenol! Your own mother is in the hospital and you’re sleeping?!” Listening to her roar, I remained calm. “Mom, I can’t talk… the medicine is making me dizzy… bye…” I hung up and put the phone on Airplane Mode. I remembered when I was hospitalized for gastroenteritis. I was in so much pain I couldn’t stand. Mom said she didn’t know the way to the hospital, so she couldn’t come. But she called me every hour to “check on me,” forcing me to comfort her while I was vomiting. That night, I cooked myself a feast. Fresh shrimp, $10 a pound. Boiled simply, a massive plateful. Beef stir-fry with celery. Fresh cherries. Crisp and sweet. I even splurged on a $6 boba tea. My salary was $6,000 a month. I kept a few hundred and gave the rest to her. She said inflation was bad. Everything was expensive. So we ate like monks. One meat, one veg. The vegetable was always cabbage or potatoes. The meat was always frozen chicken scraps, and even that was rationed. Later, I saw what my assistant at work ate for lunch—beef, fish, fresh fruit. I asked if she was rich. She said, “No, I bring lunch because I’m broke. This costs like $400 a month tops.” I was shocked. I gave my mom $5,000+ a month, and she fed me frozen scraps and withered apples. I got suspicious and offered to do the grocery shopping. She refused, saying, “You work too hard. I’m retired, I have nothing to do. I’ll cook, you just eat.” Recalling this, my heart ached for my past self. Eating my shrimp and drinking my boba, I finally realized how badly I’d been played. The floating text appeared again. This time, no one was scolding me. They were all cheering for me. 4 The next morning, I got up early but didn’t go to the hospital. I knew Caleb wouldn’t arrive early. I went to the mall. Bought new clothes, new shoes. Then to the salon. Looking in the mirror, I realized I hadn’t had a professional haircut in years. To save money, Mom always cut it. Obviously, it looked terrible. With a proper cut, I realized I was actually pretty. I bought a coffee and a pastry and waited. A young guy approached me, blushing, asking for my number. I was flustered but gave it to him. Chatting with him, I remembered Mom’s advice. She told me marriage was a trap. That men, like my dad, cheat and are useless. She told me to never marry, never date, or I’d be drained dry. “Staying with Mommy is best.” Compared to my friends being pressured to marry, I thought I was lucky. Now I see she didn’t want me to get married because she wanted to be the one draining me dry. I chatted with the guy for a while, then headed to the hospital. My timing was perfect. Caleb had just arrived. Standing outside the door, I heard him yelling. “You said you didn’t expect anything from me! You told me to get lost! Now you’re sick and want me to play the dutiful son? You’re so selfish!” Mom, usually a tyrant with me, was meek as a lamb with him. “Caleb, I didn’t call you! I didn’t!” Caleb scoffed. “That’s your trick! You made Maya call me! Threatening to call my boss? You forced me here!” Mom stammered, “No, I didn’t…” I pushed the door open. “Mom, if you didn’t tell me, how would I know? I didn’t even know where Caleb worked.” Mom was about to curse me out, but when she saw me, she froze. Shock, jealousy, and hatred flashed in her eyes. “What are you wearing?! Your mother is in the hospital and you’re dressed up like a whore? God, what an unfilial daughter!” “And let me tell you, don’t think about the savings account! That money doesn’t move!” I pinched my thigh hard, tears welling up instantly. “Mom, don’t be like this. The doctor said you can be cured! You can’t give up!” “We can buy a house for Caleb later, but your health can’t wait!” I wailed, playing the desperate daughter. Hearing this, Caleb exploded. He glared at Mom. “You promised me $50,000 for the down payment!” I looked at Mom immediately. “Mom, you promised him?” Mom looked mortified, head down. The lady in the next bed chimed in. “You have money but won’t treat yourself? Saving it for your son’s house? So you’re forcing your daughter to pay?” “The girl just wore a dress and you called her a whore? What kind of life did she live before this? Did you take all her money for the son?” Mom snapped, “So what if I buy my son a house? I heard you buying your son a house last night!” The neighbor lady huffed. “I’m buying one for my son, and one for my daughter! I treat them equally! And even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t lie to my daughter and say I hated my son just to trick her into serving me!” Mom was silenced. Just then, a girl walked in. “Your family isn’t buying the house? Then the wedding is off.” It was Caleb’s girlfriend. Caleb panicked. “No, no, we’re buying it!” Mom nodded frantically. I feigned distress. “Mom, don’t do this! You can’t die just so Caleb can marry! If this gets out and his boss hears about it, he’ll lose his job!” Caleb looked terrified. He looked at Mom for a solution. The girlfriend sneered. “No money, no marriage.” Caleb grabbed her hand. “My project bonus will be $10,000, I’ll give it all to you.” She laughed. “Stop it. The house and dowry must come from your parents. Your money is already my money. Why would I use my own money to marry myself? Am I sick?” I was stunned. Selfish, yes. But better than being a doormat like the old me. She ran out, and Caleb chased her. Mom grabbed my hand, weeping. “Maya, your brother is useless. I only have you. I don’t want to die…” I sighed. “Mom, you have money. You’ll live.” “Maya, your brother needs a house! Go borrow money for the surgery, okay?” I shook my head. “To borrow that much, I need collateral. Will you let me leverage the house?” Mom shook her head instantly. “If we sell the house, where will we live?” “Rent.” “I’m old, I can’t rent… Maya, how can you be so cruel? Think of something else!” “There is no other way. You have money, spend it.” “Your brother can’t get married without a house!” I laughed. “Why didn’t you buy me one?” “You’re a girl. Girls don’t need houses.” I shrugged. “Exactly. Mom, you’re a girl too. What do you need a house for? Sell it. Pay for surgery, and give the rest to Caleb.” I knew she wouldn’t sell. She just wanted to bleed me dry.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387224”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was born an actress. I crave wealth and luxury, not sincerity. I went from orphan to the daughter of the richest family in town, but before I could even warm the seat, the Sterling family went bankrupt. Just as I was packing my bags to run, I overheard the family doctor whispering to my “dad”: “Aren’t you afraid of breaking the child’s heart?” Without hesitation, I spun around, rushed into the room, and hugged my “mom.” “Mom, a daughter doesn’t leave because her family is poor. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you both in your old age.” Poor for a moment versus poor for a lifetime—I, Chloe Sterling, can do the math. I caught a glimpse of the luxury watch on my dad’s wrist, hidden under his cheap shirt—worth enough to buy half a street. I smiled silently. 1 I dragged my legs, heavy as lead, back to the dilapidated rental apartment. Clutched in my hand was the hundred bucks I’d earned sweating it out as an extra on set. I went straight to the pharmacy to buy Dad’s imported medication, then detoured to that overpriced French bakery to buy Mom her favorite raspberry tart. It was tiny, but it cost me hours of work. I pushed the door open. Dad was slumped on the sofa, looking ashen, the collar of his cheap cotton T-shirt stretched loose. Mom sat beside him, her eyes vacant. I handed over the medicine and the exquisite little box, forcing my gentlest smile. “Dad, your meds. Mom, your favorite.” “Chloe, you…” Mom looked at my sweaty, disheveled state, then at the glaring scratch on my arm. Her eyes instantly reddened. “I’m fine, Mom,” I waved it off, pitching my voice to sound exhausted and hoarse. “I rushed back because I was worried about you guys.” I moved quickly to pour water and get Dad his pills. As I moved, I “accidentally” brushed my wound against the table corner and hissed in pain. “Oh my god! You child! Why didn’t you say you were hurt like that?!” Mom stood up in a panic. Dad struggled to sit up. “Quick, let me see!” I dodged them. “It’s really nothing, just a scratch. As long as you guys are okay, I’m relieved.” Out of the corner of my eye, I caught it—the flash of an expensive watch under Dad’s cheap sleeve. I lowered my eyes to hide the smirk that almost escaped. Bankruptcy? What a setup. 2 I, Chloe Sterling, am a born actress. I want the high life, not true love. After getting lost at age five, the first old lady who picked me up fed me scraps and tried to make me a child bride for her idiot grandson. At her worst, she grabbed a stick, threatening to break my arm so I could beg on the streets. I used my acting skills to make her lower her guard, then called the police. I pointed her out as a trafficker and watched her get handcuffed without feeling a thing. Later, I ended up in an orphanage. Director Chen looked like a saint but was a sadist behind closed doors. When the whip came down, I didn’t cry or scream. Instead, I became her most “loyal” little shadow. I knew in a place like that, you had to cling to the one with power just to breathe. When the bigwigs came to inspect, the troublemakers who usually got beaten the worst were locked in the dark storage room. I stuck to the Director like glue, serving tea, smiling sweetly and timidly. While pouring water, I “accidentally” pulled up my faded sleeve, revealing a web of old scars. The leaders spotted it and asked what happened. I quickly pulled my sleeve down, shaking my head like a rattle drum, my voice trembling perfectly. “N-nothing, I fell. Director Mom… Director Mom is so good to us!” The leaders exchanged glances, their eyes full of pity for the “terrified child.” I timed my nervous glances perfectly, guiding their eyes to the locked storage room… The day Director Chen was taken away by the police, the whole orphanage celebrated like it was Christmas. Tiger, the biggest bully, apologized to me with a red face, saying he had misjudged me. I rubbed the arm he used to shove, smiling brightly. “What apology? I’m not a good person.” They laughed, surrounding me. “Chloe is joking again!” See? My acting was so good that no one believed the truth. I became their beacon of hope. Later, because that “whistleblowing” incident made the news, a talent scout spotted my terrified, makeup-free face, and I stepped into show business. The money wasn’t great, but I didn’t have to worry about my next meal. Until the billionaire Sterling family found me and took me home. The touching family reunion had barely lasted a few days when Dad cried and announced bankruptcy, then promptly “fainted.” Heh, I guess the acting talent runs in the family. 3 In the luxurious walk-in closet, I stuffed the last diamond necklace into my bag with practiced efficiency. I never enjoyed the wealth, so why should I suffer the poverty with them? Not happening. I tiptoed past the study. Through the crack in the door, Dad’s voice sounded weak but with an odd undertone. The family doctor was there too. The doctor sighed. “Aren’t you afraid of breaking the child’s heart?” The rest was muffled, but that sentence was crystal clear. I froze. Dad’s overly dramatic chest-clutching before he “fainted” flashed in my mind. In a split second, it clicked—a test! They were testing me! Human nature can’t stand up to testing, but my acting can. Sterling Method Acting, showtime! I kicked the full bag into a corner and sprinted for the master bedroom. Mom was staring out the window, her back looking desolate. “Mom!” I threw myself at her, my voice hoarse with suppressed tears, hugging her tight. “I’m not leaving! I’m not going anywhere. No matter how hard it gets, I’ll stay with you. A daughter doesn’t leave her family because they’re poor. I’ll take care of you and Dad!” The tears came on cue, hot and heavy, soaking her silk robe. I looked up, my eyes full of desperate determination. Mom stiffened, then trembled violently. She hugged me back, sobbing, a flash of guilt in her eyes. “Chloe… my Chloe…” I felt her warmth, buried my face in her shoulder, and allowed the corner of my mouth to twitch up just a fraction where no one could see. Poor for a moment versus poor for a lifetime—I, Chloe Sterling, know how to count. 4 Back in the rental, Mom was still sniffing, touched by the fact that I bought her dessert despite being broke. I walked casually to the floor-to-ceiling window and peeked through the heavy curtains. Downstairs, a group of men in black T-shirts had gathered. They looked like thugs, except for the one in front. Lean but muscular, wearing a dark casual suit that screamed quality. His eyes were calm as a deep pool, no menace, just silent control. That air of certainty made the tension even worse. A test within a test? Impressive. Even hired debt collectors? “Mom,” I whispered, “Someone’s outside… doesn’t look good. You and Dad stay quiet.” Mom paled and nodded frantically. The knocking soon turned into violent banging! Bang! Bang! Bang! The cheap door groaned under the assault. “Who is it?!” Mom couldn’t help but scream. Too late! The moment the door cracked open, I “happened” to be behind it, “panicking” and trying to hold it shut with my body! A massive force slammed into the door! Thud! A dull sound. The door slammed into me. A sharp, exploding pain radiated from my nose! Warm liquid gushed out. The taste of rust filled my mouth. The door burst open. The tall, cold man stepped in first. He didn’t even look at me clutching my bleeding nose. His gaze cut toward Mom like a knife. “Mom, are you okay?” “Julian!” Mom rushed over to shield me. My nose hurt so bad I was seeing stars. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. Worth it. The bitter meat trick. 5 Warm blood dripped through my fingers, staining the white floor a shocking red. It really hurt. Stars were dancing in my vision. I ignored myself and immediately struggled to shield my trembling Mom behind me. My voice was nasal and blocked, full of anxiety. “Mom! Mom, are you okay? Are you scared?” Blood smeared all over Mom’s clothes, but she didn’t care. Mom looked at my state, gasping in pain, then turned and exploded at Julian. “Julian! Are you crazy?! Smashing the door down without looking? Look what you did to Chloe!” Julian stood backlit in the entryway, tall and imposing. His face was colder than his custom black shirt. He twitched his lips, eyes sharp. “Who knew someone was hiding behind the door? Didn’t make a sound, whose fault is that?” Liar. I bet he checked someone was behind the door before ordering the hit. I endured the pain, looking at furious Mom and frowning Dad with teary eyes. “Dad, Mom, don’t blame him… he was just worried about you…” Not time to call him “Brother” yet. Julian scoffed. He walked over slowly, looking down at me like inspecting a suspicious object. “A kid lost for over ten years, found just a few days ago.” He emphasized “few days.” “Deep feelings for parents you never knew? Knowing the family is in debt and you don’t run?” He paused, tone dripping with sarcasm. “These days, soft-hearted and filial girls like ‘Sister’ here are rare.” Sounded like praise, but every word was a thorn. I sniffled, more blood gushing out. My voice was thick with tears. “How can you say that? I always envied kids with parents. Even though it’s been short, Mom and Dad treat me so well… I have some savings from acting. Not much, but if we’re frugal, it can support Mom and Dad for a while…” I looked at Mom, eyes full of adoration and fragility. Mom broke down. She couldn’t act anymore. She hugged my bloody face into her chest and yelled at Julian. “Enough, Julian! Baby, don’t worry. The family is fine. The money issue is solved!” Avoiding the main point. Solved? Not “we didn’t go bankrupt”? Still testing me? I buried my face in Mom’s perfumed chest, almost laughing out loud. Good. Very good. Look at us. A whole family of gifted actors. A perfect match. Back at the villa, Mom was emotional, asking carefully, “Chloe, tell Mom, did you suffer a lot these years you were lost?” “Mom sees you hurt, your nose hit by Julian, and you don’t complain. You seem used to it… Mom’s heart hurts…” I stayed in her arms, not detailing the misery, just nuzzling her like a spoiled child. “Mom, it’s all in the past. My only regret is not finishing college. I always feel like something is missing…” As soon as I said it, I felt a heavy gaze on me. I looked up, straight into Julian’s bottomless eyes. He stared at me like a hunter watching a fox in a trap. Unblinking. 6 The swelling in my nose went down, leaving a faint bruise. The way Dad and Mom treated me changed visibly. The awkwardness of time apart was washed away by “shared hardship” and “guilt.” Limited edition bags, couture clothes, jewelry—they flowed into my room like water. I thought my turn for wealth and glory had finally come. Until tea time that afternoon. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows onto the exquisite bone china. Mom put down her cup elegantly. “Chloe, your brother has been thinking about what you said regarding college. He… found you a top-tier tutor to help you catch up. Think of it as… learning a bit more.” My heart skipped a beat. Him? Being “kind”? While I was suspicious, the butler led someone in. Heels clicking on the floor, crisp and rhythmic. A woman in a sharp beige suit, gold-rimmed glasses, calm and sharp eyes. Elegant but distant. “Mrs. Sterling, Miss Sterling.” She nodded slightly, voice clear. My smile widened instantly. I jumped up in surprise, rushing to take her hand. “Mia? Mia Qin! Is it really you? Oh my god, it’s been so long since the orphanage!” Mia smiled too, a perfect, extremely “friendly” smile. “Yes, Chloe. Long time no see.” But the moment I touched her, her fingers brushed mine away. Lightly, but firmly. A flash of coldness. When the butler and Mom looked away, she leaned in close to my ear. In a whisper only we could hear, she spat out coldly: “Chloe Sterling, you’re still the same as when you were a kid!”

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My “perfect” husband started acting weird the moment my ex-boyfriend came back to town. Then, I found his diary: What do I do? That jerk is back! Will they get back together? After all, he’s the kid’s biological father! No, she’s responsible! She wouldn’t just abandon me! But they are the real family! Waaaaah, what do I do? I’m losing my wife and kid! I don’t want to live anymore! I exploded. “You can eat whatever you want, but don’t go putting imaginary green hats on your head!” My husband, eyes red and full of humiliation, whispered, “You and I both have double eyelids. Our son has monolids. Isn’t that from his biological father?” I went feral. “I GOT SURGERY, OKAY?! I’m confessing! Is getting double eyelid surgery a crime?! Did it eat your rice?!” “…” 1 My ex, Alex, is back. He’s been abroad for years, making a name for himself. Now he’s a big shot, and our mutual friends are throwing a welcome back party. I was invited. At first, I said no. My son, Leo, has a charity sale at his preschool this Friday, and I was busy making display boards. But my friends kept calling. “Come on, come on! You’ve been a stay-at-home mom for years. Come out and see the gang!” I sighed. “I’m really busy lately!” Being a working mom is exhausting. Even with a husband who helps, raising a kid is no joke. A friend teased, “Are you afraid of old flames reigniting? Is that why you don’t want to see Alex?” What kind of talk is that? That’s ancient history. My hands were full, so I had the phone on speaker. To avoid them saying more embarrassing things, I just agreed. “Fine, fine. See you tomorrow.” After hanging up, I heard a crisp crack. I turned around. My husband, Ethan, had crushed a glass in his hand, expressionless. “?!” 2 “Are you okay?” I rushed over to bandage his hand. “Bro, how can you be so careless?” Ethan’s face was dark. It took him a while to snap out of it. Ignoring his injury, he hugged me tight. I asked, puzzled, “Are you… in a bad mood lately?” We’ve been married four years. Ethan has always been mature, generous, and emotionally stable. But lately, he’s been weird. Recently, he refused to renew a contract just because the client praised Alex’s award-winning jewelry design. He even fired a designer who was a fan of Alex and praised him too loudly in the office. His secretary, Mary, told me all this. She hinted that President Ethan has been moody lately, throwing tantrums for no reason. “Ma’am, modern people have mood disorders… it’s normal. The President is busy, so… cough… bad moods happen.” She was basically telling me to take him to a shrink. “…” Is this my steady, domineering CEO husband? He seems like a different person. I’m usually pretty dense. But thinking back, there were signs. His weirdness started the day Alex announced his return! 3 I turned my head slowly. Was Ethan… jealous? This was getting interesting. After finishing Leo’s sign, I stretched. Ethan had cleaned up and was giving Leo a bath. My best friend, Sarah, called. “Rose, I heard you’re going to Alex’s party tomorrow?” Do these people have radar? News travels fast! “Yeah,” I said casually. Sarah drawled, “Alex just won an award abroad. Why come back now? Honestly, is it for you?” “…” What does it have to do with me? Yes, Alex and I were childhood sweethearts. We were even engaged once. When I was six, my first wish was to be his bride. But I moved on ages ago. Why hasn’t everyone else? Is it because… our breakup was so messy? 4 Four years ago, I was Alex’s fiancée. Our families have been close for generations. We were the classic childhood sweethearts. Adults joked about arranging our marriage when we were kids. Growing up, we were the golden couple. I dreamt of marrying him countless times. Unfortunately, dreams are beautiful; reality is… speechless. Alex was gentle, considerate, and romantic. Being his girlfriend was great. But he was an artist. Naturally flirtatious. He liked me, but he liked all beautiful things. Besides me, he had tons of “female friends.” Even after we got engaged, he didn’t stop. Bars, clubs, flirting—he had zero guilt. We fought thousands of times. He’d swear to change, then do it again. The last straw was catching him making out with a girl at a bar. Seeing the lipstick on his face, I didn’t feel anger. I felt exhaustion. I was done. Life is long. I have better things to do than play cat and mouse with Alex forever. “Let’s cancel the engagement. We’re done,” I said calmly. Alex pushed the girl away, panicked. “Babe, I was drunk! Don’t be mad!” I said, word for word, “Stop explaining. I don’t want to hear it. This is the first time I’ve said break up, and it’s the last. I mean what I say.” Alex freaked out. He hugged me, begging like a maniac. “Rose, I was wrong! Forgive me just this once! Twenty years of feelings!” No matter how I hit him or scolded him, he acted like a desperate dog, promising loyalty. But I couldn’t trust him anymore. To make him give up, I flash-married Ethan. Two dates, then marriage. At my wedding, a drunk Alex crashed the party, crying and causing a scene. It even trended online. [Rich Couple Splits: Man Regrets, Acts Like Dog.] 5 Maybe out of shame, Alex went abroad soon after. And I settled into a happy life with Ethan. These four years have been great. Soon after marriage, I got pregnant with Leo. We went from a couple to a family of three fast. Leo was a tough baby. Cried all night. Exhausted me, my mom, and the nanny. Only Ethan could soothe him to sleep. Seeing this tall, handsome man tenderly rocking the baby, humming lullabies… The contrast was insanely attractive. I wanted to jump him right there. Yes, our sex life has been great too. I love Ethan’s scent. No cologne, just a warm, sunny smell. It intoxicates me. Actually, I don’t know if he truly loves me. We married for convenience, after all. But I think he likes me. Lately, I’ve been busy with Leo and work, so we haven’t been intimate. Decided. After the party tomorrow, candlelit dinner and a bath with Ethan. Using his favorite “Cherry Blossom” bath bomb. 6 The next day, I picked my outfit. “Honey, wear that Italian suit,” I told Ethan. He was silent. I walked into the living room and saw his pale face. “I’m not going. I’ll watch the kid.” Usually, husbands worry when wives see exes. He’s so generous! I pouted. “Really not going?” I was looking forward to that bath. Ethan took a deep breath. “You… come back early. I have work.” I glanced at him sideways. I picked sexy purple lingerie. I leaned in close. “Should I wear the white dress or the red one?” White is slightly sheer. Red is sexy. Normally, he’d be all over me. But now, he just looked at me with loss in his eyes, then turned to play blocks with Leo. “…” Married a few years and he’s already bored of me?! 7 I drove to the club alone. I was distracted the whole way, thinking about Ethan’s expression. Why did he look at me like that? Like he was losing me? Arriving at the venue, I sighed. I couldn’t do it. I turned the car around, planning to go home and talk to Ethan. But Alex was already at the door. Is he a doorman now? He blocked my car, looking guilty. “Rose, I’ve been waiting. You’re here, why leave? Do you… still not want to see me?” “…” You think too much. I just said, “Something came up. Next time.” Ignoring his dejected look, I floored it home. But the house was dark. Kid gone. Husband… gone. Nanny said she took Leo to my mom’s. Where’s Ethan? Mary told me. “Ma’am, the President went on a last-minute trip to London. Didn’t you know?” I closed my eyes in anger. London, without a word. Does he only tell me if he goes to Mars? Do I even matter to him? Fuming, I went upstairs. Passing his study, I walked in. What is he thinking? Why is he acting so weird? Randomly searching the bookshelf, I found a thick diary. He keeps a diary? How old school. It has a lock! If it wasn’t locked, I might not care. But hiding it makes me curious. Password? His birthday? No. Leo’s? No. Mine? No. Hmph, men. Suddenly, I tried the date we first met. Click! Inside, dense handwriting. Bold and wild. Every word was about me. Rose was happy today. Did I do good? She likes mature men. Better than that childish ex! Keep it up! Leo is cute. If I care for him like this, he’ll love me, right? Nurture over nature? What do I do? That jerk is back! Will they get back together? No, no! Even if she doesn’t love me, she’s responsible! She won’t abandon me! But they have a child! They are the real family! Waaaaah, what do I do? Losing wife and kid! I want to die! I put down the diary, stunned. He thinks the kid isn’t his? He thinks I don’t love him? 8 Men are from Mars, women are from Venus. But living under the same roof, sharing a bed… how can there be such a huge misunderstanding? We are different species! Compared to Alex, Ethan is deep and introverted. But I never expected his imagination to be this wild! I thought he was just jealous of my ex. I didn’t think he suspected the son he raised from birth! Leo does look more like me. But sons look like moms, right? Leo has Ethan’s mannerisms. They both hate cilantro. Can’t he see that? A man’s heart is a needle in the ocean! Who knows what he’s thinking! Besides, am I, Rose Song, the type to trap a man? If the kid wasn’t his, I would have said so! The more I thought, the angrier I got. I wanted to fly to London and scream at him! But it was late. Work tomorrow… kid at mom’s. Fine. I’ll wait. He better come back!

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During Freshman Orientation, my roommate’s shirt was always soaked, radiating a faint, sweet scent of peaches. Watching the boys on campus go feral over it—including Liam, the rich frat president—she was incredibly smug. I recognized it instantly. It wasn’t some magical pheromone. It was pus from a rare form of skin cancer. I warned her to get treated. She called me jealous but secretly went to the doctor. The diagnosis was cancer. She had to get a double mastectomy to survive. Without her “peach scent,” Liam, who had been obsessed with her, dropped her cold. Her other simps vanished into thin air. Unable to handle the fall from grace, she blamed it all on me. “If you hadn’t been a busybody and made your mom cut my breasts off, Liam wouldn’t have dumped me!” She grinned maniacally as she shoved me into a drainage ditch and watched me drown. Even my mother, the surgeon who performed the operation, was doxxed, fired, and died of depression. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day the peach scent first appeared. … 1 “What is that smell? It smells amazing!” My roommate, Vicky, walked into the dorm carrying a bag of snacks. She sniffed the air, eyes lighting up. “Is that peach perfume? Or some new drink?” Then she spotted the open bottle of ‘yogurt’ on Lexi’s desk. “Smells good! I’m gonna try it!” Before Lexi could stop her, Vicky grabbed the bottle and took a massive swig. The next second, her expression froze. She doubled over and started heaving dryly. “What the hell is this?! It tastes rancid!” Lexi rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, “Some people wish they could drink it, but they can’t.” Vicky’s face went pale. “Lexi, did you do that on purpose just to gross me out?!” “If I get food poisoning, I’m taking you down with me!” She rushed to the bathroom to make herself throw up. Watching this familiar scene, I confirmed it. I was really reborn. The suffocating feeling of drowning from my past life felt terrifyingly real. “Sarah! This is all your fault! If you hadn’t opened your big mouth and made your mom operate on me, I’d still be with Liam! You ruined my life, you deserve to die!” The person who killed me wasn’t a stranger. It was my roommate, Lexi. In my past life, I realized that the fluid leaking from her chest—the stuff all the boys were crazy about—wasn’t a “gifted body fragrance.” It was a secretion from a rare malignant skin tumor. I advised her to get treated and asked my mom, a top surgeon, to look after her. She cursed me for being jealous but got the surgery. When the truth came out in my past life, Vicky didn’t defend me. She joined the internet trolls and kicked me while I was down. Thinking of this, I let out a cold laugh and spoke up. “Vicky, what’s with the attitude? Lexi didn’t do it on purpose.” “Besides, who told you to be so greedy and drink it without asking?” 2 Vicky froze, looking at me in disbelief. “She left that disgusting stuff on the desk and I drank it! And you’re defending her?!” “Sarah, is your brain broken?” I smiled. “Vicky, don’t say that. Lexi said it wasn’t intentional. Besides,” I paused, my gaze sweeping over Lexi’s chest. “That peach scent… people would kill to smell like that naturally. It’s better than smelling like sweat, right?” Seeing me take her side, Lexi’s eyes lit up. “Exactly! I didn’t mean to! Sarah is right, it smells good!” “I think you’re just jealous of me!” She shot Vicky a nasty look. Vicky was furious. She pointed at us, stammering, “You… You guys…” but couldn’t find the words. Finally, she stomped her foot and slammed the door, storming out to clean the vomit off herself. With Vicky gone, Lexi tossed her head triumphantly and dug something out from the bottom of her closet. My pupils shrank. It was that pale pink bralette. Lace detailing, a bit sexy. I bought it online freshman year because it was cheap. But the underwire was brutal, and the straps dug into my skin, so I threw it in the bottom of my closet and never touched it again. Now, it was in Lexi’s hands. And there was a distinct pink stain on it. In my past life, when I saw this, I vomited from disgust and got into a huge fight with her about stealing my things. That argument became one of the reasons she wanted to kill me. This time, she held up the bra, looking shy. “Sarah, I was thinking of wearing this and taking some selfies to post in the freshman group chat. What do you think?” I immediately plastered a sincere smile on my face and exaggerated my praise. “That bra fits you perfectly! The color, the design… it’s like it was made for your aura! Sexy but innocent!” “It really highlights your… assets! If Liam sees this, his eyes are gonna pop out of his head!” I knew she wanted to use this to bait more attention. In the past life, she blamed me for ruining her luck with men. This time, I was going to help her get exactly what she wanted. Lexi’s face flushed red with excitement. “Really, Sarah? You think it looks good?” “Absolutely!” I nodded firmly. Just then, Jessica, the roommate who usually stayed neutral, spoke up. “Sarah, that looks like your bra. Didn’t you say it was uncomfortable and packed it away?” “Did Lexi steal it from you?” Lexi’s smile vanished instantly. I quickly jumped in to cover for her, looking earnest. “Oh! That one! It looks similar, but mine was trash quality. I threw it out ages ago.” “The one Lexi has looks way more high-end! Besides, if Lexi likes it, what’s the problem with giving it to her? Good things belong to those who fit them best!” The wariness in Lexi’s eyes turned to delight. She lifted her chin at Jessica. “See? Jessica, what’s your problem? Sarah said she gave it to me!” “Besides, Sarah is too flat to fill this cup size anyway.” “If you talk trash again, watch your back!” Lexi rushed into the bathroom to try it on, desperate to prove it to Jessica. Once the door clicked shut, I started packing my suitcase. I needed to move out immediately. The peach-milk scent in the room was cloying and nauseating. If I stayed any longer, I’d be implicated when things went south. But just as I was halfway through packing, Lexi caught me. 3 “Sarah? What are you doing? Are you moving out?” Lexi yanked the bathroom door open, sticking her head out. She was wearing the cheap bra. The scratchy lace was straining against her breasts, which were swollen significantly larger than usual. The thin straps dug deep into her flesh. Under the collarbone, the pink staining on her skin looked more pronounced under the bathroom lights—like mold spreading on fruit. There was a flicker of nervousness in her eyes; she was afraid of losing her new ally. I paused, thinking fast. I put on a look of embarrassment. “Actually… I have a rare skin condition. It’s not serious, but with so many people in the dorm, I don’t want to risk infecting anyone…” Lexi instinctively took a step back, her nervousness turning to caution. “Skin condition?” “Yeah,” I sighed, looking helpless. “But if you guys don’t mind, I can stay…” Lexi cut me off immediately. Her face feigned concern, but her tone screamed get out. “Oh, no, you should definitely move out! Treat it first, then come back! Health is important! We’ll wait for you!” I sneered internally. The person with the real disease was wearing stolen underwear and dreaming of bagging a billionaire. As I grabbed my bag to leave, I pretended to gossip. “By the way, I heard a rumor that Liam is planning something huge tonight.” Lexi’s eyes lit up. “What is it? Tell me!” Jessica perked up too. I leaned in, acting mysterious. “I heard from the guys’ dorm that Liam bought 9,000 roses! He’s going to publicly confess to a girl!” “I’m guessing the goddess is right here in our room. I mean, to deserve that kind of effort, the girl must have something… special about her, right?” I pointedly glanced at Lexi’s swollen chest. Lexi’s face turned beet red. She covered her mouth, voice trembling with excitement. “Really?! 9,000 roses?! Oh my god! It has to be for me!” “Sarah, you’re my lucky charm! I need to get ready! I’m going to be the main character tonight!” She dove back into her closet, frantically searching for a better outfit. “Which one… this is too plain… this doesn’t show enough cleavage… Ah! This sheer top! With the bra Sarah gave me, Liam will…” Watching her manic excitement, Jessica looked at her with undisguised disgust, typing furiously on her phone. A second later, my phone buzzed. Jessica: Are you serious? Liam is confessing to HER? With roses? Is he blind? She leaks weird fluids and smells funky. I looked down and replied. Me: Who knows? A rich boy with weird fetishes and a girl with ‘peach milk’? Match made in heaven. Just watch the show. I was genuinely curious. Without me interfering this time, would her dream of marrying rich actually come true? 4 By evening, the campus square was packed. Liam, dressed in a tailored white suit, held a massive bouquet of red roses, walking toward Lexi, who was standing in a sea of petals. Lexi had taken my advice. She was wearing a black sheer lace camisole. Underneath, my cheap, structured bra was clearly visible. Her face had a sickly, feverish flush. She walked a bit strangely, occasionally using her arm to support her chest, as if she were in pain. The crowd was cheering. “9,000 roses! That’s so romantic!” “Lexi looks so hot today! Liam is so handsome!” Hearing the praise, Lexi looked smug. The pain seemed to fade. She lifted her chin, waiting for Liam to approach, ready for her Cinderella moment. But as Liam got closer, the look of obsession on his face froze. He smelled it. The scent coming off Lexi wasn’t the sweet peach aroma from before. It was a mix of metallic blood and rotting meat. It wasn’t surprising. Lexi’s condition was terminal. Combined with the summer heat, the early-stage sweet smell of bacteria had turned into the stench of necrosis. She was rotting from the inside out. Liam’s face twitched. He took a half-step back, covering his nose. His voice held a trace of disgust. “What is that smell?” Lexi’s smile stiffened. She instinctively covered her chest, where the pink stain was darkening and spreading. “I… Liam, listen to me…” Before she could finish, something on her chest snapped. RIIIP. The cheap, overloaded lace bra finally gave up the ghost. Freed from constraint, two swollen masses covered in dark red patches and visible veins flopped out for the world to see. The crowd’s envy turned to shock, then to a horror that defies description. Then, under everyone’s gaze, the translucent, tight pustules in the center of the dark red patches… exploded. A geyser of pink-white fluid, mixed with chunks of pus and blood, sprayed out with a nauseating stench. And standing right in the splash zone was Liam. He was coated, head to toe, in the hot, rotting discharge. A few drops even flew into his mouth, which was hanging open in shock. Liam froze, turning into a statue.

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We were getting ready to move our residency registration when we hit a snag. The clerk told me there was a 12-year-old kid registered under my name. Turns out, someone had secretly registered their kid under my name to mooch off the top-tier school district associated with my property. I was furious. So I flipped the script. I called the cops, claiming my “child” was missing, stolen by traffickers. With police assistance, I brought the kid straight home to my house. Now it was the other family’s turn to lose their minds. I just smiled darkly. “You haven’t seen anything yet. I’m already processing the paperwork to renounce his citizenship.” 1 We were at the city clerk’s office, ready to transfer our household registration, when the staff dropped a bomb. The paperwork was incomplete. Apparently, there was a 12-year-old child under my name, and I needed his documents too. My wife and I were stunned. We’d only been married a few years. Where the hell did a 12-year-old come from? My wife burst into tears right there in the office, screaming at me, accusing me of having a secret love child, threatening divorce. I swear I don’t have a secret kid. I don’t even have a secret pet! It took everything I had to calm her down. The clerk insisted. According to the system, there was indeed a 12-year-old boy named “Gavin White” registered under my household. He should be in elementary school right now. “You must be mistaken,” I argued desperately. “I don’t have a kid. And my last name isn’t White, it’s Ray!” “Not my problem,” the clerk said flatly. “The system says what it says. We follow the system.” Her indifference made my blood boil. “Can you check when this kid was added to my registry?” “No.” “Can you see where he lives now?” “No.” “Can you just delete him from my household?” “No. You need to provide proof of non-paternity before we can remove him.” My knuckles turned white as I gripped the counter. Proof of non-paternity? I’ve never met this kid. Today is the first time I’ve heard his name. I don’t know where he is or when he was added to my file. How am I supposed to prove he’s not mine? Should I forge a document? “Can you at least give me some details about this child?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. The clerk scoffed. “You’re funny. You don’t know your own kid, so you ask a stranger? Is he your son or mine?” “Nowadays, you see all kinds of crazies. Asking strangers about their own kids.” I pride myself on being a civilized man, but being publicly mocked like that broke something inside me. Bang! I slammed my fist on the desk, making the clerk jump. “Tell me the kid’s information,” I growled, eyes red with rage. 2 Walking out of the government building, I immediately called a buddy who works in the police force. He’s seen it all; maybe he’d have an idea. After hearing my story, he pinpointed the issue immediately. “They’re after the school district,” he said. “Your property is zoned for the best schools.” It clicked. Why else would anyone give their son to a stranger on paper? My family doesn’t have a throne to inherit. It had to be for the school district spot. I used to think stories like this were urban legends—people buying a house just for a school spot is one thing, but stealing a spot? Now it was happening to me. It felt ridiculous and surreal. Our current apartment is in a prime school district. My wife and I worked our asses off for over a decade to afford it. To scrape together the down payment, we emptied our savings and borrowed heavily from both sets of parents. To pay the mortgage, we lived like monks. No vacations, no fancy meals, not even decent gifts during the holidays. We lived in this run-down, cramped “old shoe-box” apartment solely so our future child could have access to top-tier education. We wanted our kid to win at the starting line. But now? Our kid isn’t even born yet, and the spot has been hijacked by some stranger? The frustration was immense. It felt like raising a daughter for eighteen years only to watch her marry a deadbeat with a mullet. I gritted my teeth so hard I thought they’d crack. I wanted to grab a knife and turn these people into mincemeat. Thankfully, my cop friend was calmer. He talked me off the ledge. On his advice, I didn’t go looking for blood. I went to a law firm instead. 3 The lawyer offered some comfort. The situation wasn’t as hopeless as it seemed. If the extra kid was a clerical error by the census bureau, it was an administrative mistake. The department had a duty to correct it, and we could even sue for damages. But if it wasn’t an error—if someone did this deliberately—that was fraud. Specifically, school district fraud. We could sue for damages and press criminal charges once we had evidence. “I suggest you gather evidence quickly and file a lawsuit,” the lawyer advised professionally. “This will minimize your losses and prevent further complications.” My wife and I looked at each other and shook our heads. Suing them? That was too merciful. Leaving the law firm, I called my cop friend again to check on his investigation. “Bad news,” he said. “I found the clerk who handled that district back then. He’s retired, senile, remembers nothing. But looking at the digital trail… this wasn’t an accident. It was definitely intentional.” Hearing this, my wife and I shared a look. We had a plan. We went straight to the police station to file a report. “Officer, our child is missing. We think he’s been kidnapped by traffickers.” 4 We spun the story we’d rehearsed. “The kid was playing downstairs. It got dark, and he never came back. We searched everywhere.” The police immediately pulled surveillance footage. But they hit a wall. Our old neighborhood was ancient. Aside from being near a top school, it had zero amenities. The few cameras that existed were broken or pointed at nothing. Useless. The officer asked for a description. We gave vague answers—”average height, average looks.” Watching the police mobilize to find “our” child, my wife and I exchanged a satisfied glance. This was exactly what we wanted. If they put the kid under my name, then fine. I’ll take the kid. I won’t abuse him, but I sure as hell won’t send him to that fancy school. We’ll see who cracks first. As for whether the other family wants to hand him over? Not my problem. What proves you are you? Your ID card. What proves your mom is your mom? The household registry (Hukou). If the kid is in my registry, legally, he’s mine. If they refuse to hand him over, I have the law—and the police—on my side. 5 A few days later, the police called. “Mr. Ray? We found the child. But… the situation is a bit complicated. You need to come down here.” When I arrived at the station, the young officer looked confused. “Mr. Ray, are you sure this is your child?” “Of course he is! Why else would he be in my household registry? Who adopts a stranger’s kid for fun?” “Here’s the thing,” the officer explained. “We found the boy in the home of a couple named White in the south district. The man, Mr. White, insists Gavin is his son, not yours.” I nodded calmly. “Expected.” “We asked the boy. He also insists the Whites are his parents.” The officer looked at me skeptically. I was prepared. I paused, acting thoughtful. “Is it possible… my son has been brainwashed? Or manipulated?” “Brainwashed?” The officer blinked. “Yeah. Cults do it. If these people are pros at manipulation, and my son is young and impressionable… maybe they mentally controlled him.” “That’s… theoretically possible,” the officer said, clearly not buying it. The Whites didn’t look like cult leaders. “But why is his last name White, not Ray?” “Feng Shui,” I lied smoothly. “He lacked ‘water’ in his astrological chart. ‘White’ corresponds to metal, which produces water. So we gave him that surname.” “But…” “Officer, isn’t this ridiculous?” I cut him off. “Legally speaking, if he’s in my registry, he’s my son.”

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“The System told me to raise a child. Me? The person who spent their entire childhood goofing off? One day, the little villain came home waving two test papers with perfect scores. “”I’m going to Harvard!”” I shoved a controller for Call of Duty into his hands. “”What’s the use of Harvard? Help me rank up first!”” After finals, he hung his head in despair. “”I got first place in the grade, but my score dropped by one point. I want to sign up for tutoring.”” I mumbled “”Sure”” through a mouthful of takeout pizza. The next day, I enrolled him in a gourmet cooking class. When his rebellious phase hit, he said he was going to an internet café. Worried he’d start trouble, I tailed him. Only to watch him sneak into… the library. Me: “”…”” Years later, the Ivy League-graduated villain became a business tycoon. Returning to his alma mater for a speech, someone asked the secret to his success. He looked down at the VIP seats, where I was chewing on sugarcane, playing a mobile game, and listening to an audiobook about face-slapping revenge. He smiled faintly. “”I have a fun-loving aunt.”” Me: “”?”” 1 When the System dropped me in front of Silas, he had just lost his mother. Wearing a black armband, he sat quietly at his desk, doing homework. Hearing me, he lifted his thin eyelids, gave me a dull look, and buried his head back in his books. System: “”Okay, your identity is his…”” I cut in: “”Auntie.”” “”?”” System: “”Wouldn’t ‘stepmother’ be cooler and more dramatic?”” Me: “”What do you know? ‘Auntie’ is the coolest figure in every childhood. Trendy, rich, and fun. I worshipped my aunt growing up! It’s the best way to bond!”” I flipped my wavy hair, strutted over in four-inch heels, and flashed a dazzling smile. “”Silas?”” The skinny boy didn’t stop writing. A faint “”Mhm.”” “”It’s almost New Year’s, why are you still studying?”” I reached out to pat his fluffy head. “”So good…”” The moment my hand touched him, Silas flinched violently. He wrapped his arms around his head, eyes squeezed shut, trembling uncontrollably. I froze. Before I could ask what was wrong, I saw the bruises on his exposed wrist. Stark purple against pale skin. The System explained: After the divorce, Silas’s mom developed mental health issues. Her moods swung wildly. On good days, she cooked and cleaned. On bad days, seeing a 99% on a test paper made her lash out with a willow switch. She’d scream hysterically while hitting him: “”I work myself to death for you, and this is how you repay me? “”Don’t do anything but study! You’re all I have left. If you’re useless, I’m finished!”” Then her voice would drop to a creepy, gentle whisper: “”Silas, does it hurt? Come here, Mommy will rub it better…”” Silas would crawl up from the floor. Limping, with angry red welts on his skin. He didn’t cry or hide. He let her vent, then whispered, head down, “”It doesn’t hurt, Mom. I’m going to study.”” He’d sit straight at his desk. Even though his shoulders hurt too much to lift properly. He’d grip the pen and start writing, his handwriting shaky. 2 After hearing the story, I was silent. Honestly, I felt a bit relieved. His mom leaving was actually… Sorry. Buddha, forgive me. 3 I might not know how to raise a kid. But I used to be one. I decided to give Silas the happiest, most unforgettable childhood ever. I grabbed the System by its ankles and shook it violently. A stack of cash and a Black Card fell out. “”Thanks, bro.”” The System hugged my leg, sobbing. “”Host, that’s my private stash!”” I gaslit him: “”I’ll pay you back! When the mission is done, you get half the gold coins!”” Gold coins are way more valuable than human money. The System immediately straightened up, energetic. “”Spend it all! Don’t hold back!”” That night. I kicked the door open, pushing a cart and carrying a giant bag of snacks. “”Silaaaaaas!”” I dumped the snacks on his book-cluttered desk and unloaded the newest iPhone, iPad, MacBook, and every gaming console known to man from the cart… I shoved them all into his arms. “”Here, Auntie’s New Year gifts.”” Silas was stunned. His dark eyes darted between me and the pile of loot on his bed. After a long pause. He pursed his lips, voice flat. “”Thank you, Auntie. I will study hard.”” He bent down to pick up his pen, ready to resume solving equations. It was heartbreakingly obedient. I grabbed his arm. “”I didn’t buy these to motivate you to study!”” Silas blinked, confused. I pulled him up. “”Stop studying. Come on, Auntie’s taking you to have fun!”” When it comes to playing, I’m a pro. Growing up, I did everything except study. My parents were chill. As long as I was alive and happy, they were good. I agreed. Being alive is already a win. 4 I dragged Silas to play video games, eat snacks, and do karaoke until midnight. We even set off fireworks downstairs. Silas needed to sleep. I yawned. “”Auntie is old, I can’t pull all-nighters anymore.”” I crashed on the sofa. The System collapsed at my feet. “”You really know how to party…”” I woke up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. Silas’s room was still lit up. Through the crack in the door, I saw the boy in a white shirt, shoulders thin, expression cold, head down writing. The clock said 3:30 AM. I pushed the door open without hesitation. “”Silas!”” He jumped, turning to look at me with hidden fear in his eyes. “”I’m almost done reviewing this week’s content. I won’t play anymore. Auntie, please don’t be mad…”” I was confused. “”What are you talking about? I just want you to sleep…”” The System whispered in my ear: “”His mom used to take him out for a day, then beat him at night, forcing him to make up for the ‘wasted time’ by studying all night…”” Oh. Silas had PTSD. He subconsciously thought I’d do the same. He was tiptoeing around me. Even with his mom gone, the shadows remained. My heart ached. I walked over and took his pen. “”You did great, but rest is more important. Health comes first. I don’t care about grades. Auntie just wants you healthy and happy.”” Silas blinked, not quite understanding, but nodded obediently. “”Okay. Thank you, Auntie.”” System: “”He didn’t listen. His mom’s influence is too deep.”” I smiled. “”It’s fine. We have time.”” 5 Another late night. In my daze, I heard the System memorizing vocabulary. “”Hysterical… what’s ‘hysterical’ in English?”” I mumbled with my eyes closed: “”‘Hysterical’ is a breakdown, ‘delicious’ is a breakdown…”” Wait. Something was wrong. I snapped my eyes open. The System was holding a book, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, acting like a scholar. I kicked the book away. “”What are you doing? Prepping for grad school?”” The System adjusted its glasses. “”Seeing Silas study moved me. I don’t want to be illiterate anymore. I want to improve myself.”” I caught the key point: “”Silas is still studying!”” I looked at the clock. 4 AM. Good lord. I rushed to Silas’s room. There he was, burying his head in books. “”No, no, no. This kid is going to study himself to death.”” I made a pact with Silas. Studying stops at midnight. Or Auntie blasts karaoke in his room. Silas frowned but agreed. System: “”Hehe, Host, do you know why he agreed so fast?”” Me: “”Why?”” System: “”Because your singing is truly terrible.”” Me: “”Just you wait.”” 6 For Silas’s birthday. I baked a strawberry cake. It said, in crooked icing: “”Happy Birthday Silas!”” I forced the System to transform into a tuxedo cat. Silas’s eyes lit up when he saw the kitten in my arms. I shoved it at him. “”Pet it all you want!”” The System, unused to hugs, opened its mouth to bite Silas. I coughed loudly. The System closed its mouth sullenly and glared at me. Candles lit. Warm yellow light reflected in the boy’s dark eyes. “”Happy Birthday to you~”” System: “”Meow meow meow meow~”” I cut a slice. “”For our cute birthday boy!”” System: “”Meow meow meow meow meow!”” Silas looked at the cake, hesitated, then took it and started eating small bites. Satisfied, I went to cut another piece. Thud. Silas collapsed, eyes closed. Red rashes spread rapidly up his pale neck. Me: “”!”” System: “”Meow!!”” I slapped the cat. “”You’re too old to act cute! Call 911!”” At the hospital, we learned Silas was allergic to milk. When we got back from the doctor… The boy in the bed was awake. His small face was pale and sickly under the cold lights. His dark eyes flinched when they met mine. I rushed over with the cat carrier, tears in my eyes. “”Silas!!!”” Silas’s lips trembled, looking panicked. “”Auntie, I’m fine. It won’t affect my studies. I can go home now…”” Before he finished. He felt warmth. He looked up into my concerned eyes. I was draping a bright red floral quilted jacket I bought from a convenience store over him. “”Here, lift your arms.”” Silas was confused but obeyed. I buttoned him up, stepped back to admire, and burst out laughing. “”Very festive.”” Silas: “”…”” “”Warm now? We left in a hurry, didn’t bring coats.”” Silas nodded hesitantly. “”Auntie, sorry for wasting your time…”” I rubbed his head. “”Nonsense. “”Did you know you were allergic to milk? You have to remember that. You scared me to death…”” “”I knew.”” My smile froze. “”What?”” Silas turned his head, lashes trembling. “”I knew I was allergic.”” “”Then why did you eat it?”” I was furious. Was he doing this on purpose? “”But you spent a long time making that cake…”” I froze. The noise of the hospital faded. Warmth spread from my chest to my eyes. I sighed and patted his head. “”This was Auntie’s mistake for not asking. “”And, I made the cake because I wanted to. Not to guilt-trip you into eating poison. “”Auntie wants you to love yourself, not prioritize other people’s feelings. “”Understand?”” Silas nodded. I didn’t know if he truly understood, but his eyes seemed a little brighter. Like snow on a roof reflecting winter sun.”

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