Late at night, I stumbled upon a live stream titled “Murder Time.” The streamer said, “Let me give you a preview of tonight’s victim: 31 years old, lives in a suburban villa, last name Sun.” My blood ran cold. Those details matched me perfectly. At that exact moment, a voice echoed from downstairs: “Face ID failed.” 1 At 2 AM, I was wired from too much coffee earlier in the day. I was doom-scrolling on my phone when a weird live stream caught my eye. The streamer’s ID was “ChickenLittle_WhoDiesToday.” When I clicked in, there were already fifty or sixty thousand people watching. [Chicken is finally live again! I’ve been waiting forever. My life is so boring without your streams!] [Gifts for Lord Chicken! I wonder which unlucky bastard he’s targeted today!] [Got my snacks, lying in bed, ready for the show!] I knew this guy. He was a serial killer who had recently gone viral. It was the apocalypse; with no new movies or TV shows, live streams had become the main form of entertainment. But people were bored with the usual content. So, a wave of streams featuring murder, looting, and gang fights emerged. And this “Chicken Little” was the most successful of them all. He managed to evade the police every time, and no one could even trace his IP. As usual, Chicken appeared on camera wearing a mask. “First, a preview of today’s victim: female, 31 years old, located in the suburban villa district. If you fit this description, you’d better hide. If I find you…” A high-pitched, maniacal laugh pierced through my speakers. Goosebumps erupted all over my skin. Just as I was about to turn off my phone and sleep, I received a text message. [You saw it, didn’t you? You’re today’s victim. In thirty minutes, you’ll be a ghost under Chicken’s knife. If you don’t want to die, listen to me.] My drowsiness vanished instantly. Chicken had played this game before—telling the victim he was coming for them, enjoying the cat-and-mouse chase. I hurriedly clicked back into the live stream to check. Chicken had already arrived at the entrance of a residential area. The words “Morning Glory Estates” appeared on the screen. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. That wasn’t my neighborhood; I was still a thirty-minute drive away. [Are you crazy? Don’t play such boring jokes!] I angrily typed out a reply. Thanks to this prank, I was wide awake, so I decided to keep watching the stream. But just as I lay back down, a familiar electronic voice drifted up from downstairs. “Face ID failed.” 2 My feet turned to ice. I sprinted to the security door at the top of the stairs and locked it. Theft was rampant these days, so I had installed a separate security door for the second floor just to be safe. The person downstairs was still trying. “Face ID failed.” I tried to calm myself. That lock would automatically freeze after three failed attempts. No one could open it. But the next second… “Unlock successful.” How?! Did he know my passcode?! I gripped my phone, terrified to make a sound. It buzzed again. [Now do you believe me?] But… in the live stream, Chicken was still at the gate of Morning Glory Estates. Other viewers were asking the same question. [Chicken’s stream looks like a recording!] [I get it! He’s tricking the victim into thinking he’s at Morning Glory, but he’s actually somewhere else!] [I live in Morning Glory, I almost jumped out the window just now.] [So exciting! When will Chicken show us the victim?] Faint footsteps echoed from downstairs. It really was me. Today’s unlucky bastard was me. The second-floor security door could buy me some time. I had sealed the windows ages ago, so jumping wasn’t an option. I lived in the suburbs; even if the police came, it would take over an hour. I had to survive this hour on my own. I called the police first, then rushed to my bedroom and put on my Bluetooth headset. I didn’t know when Chicken would start streaming from inside my house, but hearing it was better than being in the dark. After doing all this, I texted the mysterious person back. [Believe what? Stop spouting nonsense!] For all I knew, this person could be Chicken himself, toying with me. I couldn’t trust him. Soon, another message came through. I froze in terror. It was a screenshot of a news article dated June 5, 2025. Today was only June 2. The headline read: [Viral Serial Killer “Chicken Little” Finally Arrested: Confessed to 7 Murders, Caught Alive at Final Crime Scene] The photo was of my living room. And there was another photo—of me, lying in a pool of blood. I swallowed hard, my hands trembling uncontrollably. Should I trust him? 3 Chicken’s voice came through my headset. “I’m inside the victim’s house. Let me give you a tour.” The camera angle shifted, focusing on my family portrait. It really was my house! “Look at how luxurious her life is.” He panned the camera to my kitchen fridge and pantry. [What the hell! She has fresh pork! Kill her, Chicken!] [Is that Vitamin Water?! Chicken, I want that!] [Look at all those meds! Do it, Chicken! I need those! I’ll pay high prices!] Part of Chicken’s popularity came from his Robin Hood persona—he claimed to rob the rich to help the poor. He auctioned off the victims’ belongings to his viewers, earning money from both donations and sales. “Don’t rush, everyone. Maybe the victim is watching my stream right now.” He looked up toward the second floor and shouted. “My little sweetie, I’ll give you ten minutes to hide. After ten minutes, I’m coming for you.” He wore a black hoodie and a mask, his eyes staring straight at me through the screen. Seeing his determined look, I thought about the news article again. Why was I killed? And how was Chicken caught? Why was he caught after I died? Another text message. [Calm down and listen. Chicken has the key to your second floor, so that door won’t stop him. You have ten minutes to hide. [The master bedroom only has a wardrobe and a vanity, and the bed frame is solid. There’s nowhere to hide, so I don’t recommend it. [I remember the bed in the guest room is hollow. You should hide inside the bed base.] [Who are you?] I asked, fighting back fear. He knew I would be killed, and he knew the layout of my house perfectly. I switched back to Chicken’s stream. He was leisurely pouring himself a glass of red wine in the kitchen. My expensive wine! I hadn’t even opened it yet, and he was wasting it. [I’m your boyfriend.] Boyfriend? I almost laughed. I’ve been single for 30 years. 4 [Don’t misunderstand. I’m your boyfriend in a parallel universe. Our timeline is a week ahead of yours. My girlfriend—you—was killed by Chicken. I contacted you by accident. I just want you to live, for her sake.] Parallel universe? That sounded ridiculous. [By the way, I’m a cop, so I know all the details of the case. You must be wondering why you died but Chicken got caught. [In my timeline, you didn’t hide. You fought Chicken head-on. You injured him severely, but he killed you. Because of his injuries, he couldn’t escape.] That sounded like something I would do. In this dog-eat-dog world, a single woman like me couldn’t survive without being tough. “Five minutes left. You better be hiding well.” Even though I didn’t fully trust this guy, he was right about the layout. My master bedroom had zero hiding spots. The guest room not only had a hollow bed base, but I had also hidden a knife in there. “Two minutes left. I wonder if my little sweetie is ready.” Chicken finished the wine and spoke again. [Chicken looked so cool drinking that wine! But why does he keep calling her ‘little sweetie’?] [Yeah! Maybe he likes her looks, that’s why he’s giving her a chance to hide.] [OMG, is Chicken going to livestream… you know… spicy stuff? So exciting.] I cursed under my breath. These netizens were just here for the show. They didn’t care about human life at all! I retrieved the knife from the guest room and carefully lifted the mattress. After hiding, I dimmed my phone screen to the lowest setting. [Are you hidden?] the stranger asked again. [Yes.] After typing that, I scrutinized the news screenshot again. The photo… something felt off. Footsteps were getting closer. Strangely, he didn’t go to the master bedroom first. He walked straight toward the guest room. Wouldn’t a normal person check the master bedroom first?! Unless… I clamped my hand over my mouth, terrified to make a sound. Creak. The guest room door opened. Black boots appeared in my line of sight through the crack in the bed base. I was sweating profusely. “Let’s see what today’s little sweetie looks like.” He squatted down and slowly reached for the mattress.

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I met a guy online. He was gentle, obedient, and deeply affectionate. He showered me with money and gifts, always adding a note: “Voluntary gift.” But there was one problem: he refused to meet in person. It drove me crazy. I imagined all sorts of reasons. Maybe he was ugly. Maybe he was disabled. Until I accidentally stumbled into a horror game world. Late at night, in a strange bed, I was pinned down by the terrifying final boss. His black tentacles roamed over my body, peeling away my clothes piece by piece. I thought I was going to die. Crying, I sent a breakup text to my online boyfriend. The next second, a notification sound—Ding-dong—came from the monster on top of me. Me: “?” Amidst the creeping horror, I heard a cold, yet aggrieved male voice: “Baby, we just met for the first time, and you’re breaking up with me?” 1 I lost contact with my online boyfriend. The reason was a bit messy: I forced him to meet up. Honestly, you can’t blame me… who dates someone online for a year without even knowing what they look like? At first, I suspected it was a scam. But Sebastian frequently sent me flowers, milk tea, and skincare products. Every minor holiday, he’d transfer $5,200 or $13,140. Damn it, he even remembered to add the note “Voluntary gift”! After dating like this for a year, I, someone who used to live paycheck to paycheck, actually became rich! Even so, Sebastian always apologized to me: “I’m sorry, baby. It’s my fault I can’t meet you right now… But baby, I really love you. Whatever other girlfriends have, you’ll have too!” Looking at my bank balance, tears of joy streamed down my face. He gave too much! “Okay, Sebastian, I believe you.” I admit, I was shameful. I bowed down before money. But over time, I developed real feelings. Except for the lack of physical presence, Sebastian was perfect. I slowly grew a “love brain.” However, every time I brought up meeting, Sebastian refused. After refusing, perhaps out of guilt, he would send more money, even offering to buy me a house. Damn, I almost wavered. I started testing him: “Sebastian, actually, it doesn’t matter if you’re short, ugly, or even old.” While I was anxious, Sebastian replied: “Baby, I measured myself, I’m at least 6’5″! I am a little old, but I shouldn’t be ugly…” Lies! If you’re not ugly, why won’t you meet? I gritted my teeth and continued probing: “Then… were you hurt? Are you disabled?” “Baby, I’m very strong. No one can hurt me!” Staring at the message, I sneered. So, what is it? What can’t see the light of day? I couldn’t take it anymore and sent a voice message: “Sebastian, we’ve been dating for a year, and you haven’t even done a voice or video call. What kind of relationship is this?” Seeing I was angry, Sebastian apologized while transferring money. This time, I had a backbone. I clicked refund and sent another voice message: “Sebastian, do you think I’m after your money? As long as you’re human, I insist on meeting. I want to see your true face!” The always good-tempered Sebastian went silent. The “typing…” indicator at the top of the chat flashed for a long time, but not a single word came through. My heart sank. A worst-case scenario popped into my head: Is he… married? Thinking I might be the “other woman,” I ruthlessly sent the final message: “Sebastian, either we meet, or we break up. You choose!” I threatened him with a breakup to force a meeting, and the result… Sebastian ghosted me! I almost cried from anger. Several times I opened the balance, wanting to transfer it back and make a clean break. But alas, I couldn’t harden my heart. I thought, maybe wait a bit longer? Maybe there will be a twist? I couldn’t help it; he gave too much. Boohoo. 2 While tossing and turning, I suddenly received a summons from the police station. People who had bullied me in the past had all died mysteriously overnight. Some in car accidents, some jumped off buildings, some drowned… When the police compiled the victim profiles, they accidentally discovered a common thread: they all knew me, and they had all bullied me! Although I wouldn’t gloat over my enemies’ tragic deaths, I couldn’t help but marvel at karma. But it happened so suddenly, and being suspected by the police felt absurd. After the absurdity passed, I thought of the missing Sebastian, and my heart sank. Could he also be… Ignoring everything else, I wanted to rush to the police station. But when I opened the door, instead of the spring sunshine, I was greeted by a sky full of white fog. My mind went blank for a moment, as if I lost consciousness. When I came to, I found myself standing in an unfamiliar clearing. 3 Looking around, it was foggy everywhere. My right hand felt cold. I looked down. There was a glowing white wristband. Subconsciously touching it, a few lines of small text popped up. [Player Summer, welcome to the Nightmare World.] [Current Dungeon: “The Doll”, S-Class Difficulty.] [Clear Condition: Avoid all unknown dangers and survive until the end.] [(Note: If a player dies in the game, they die in reality as well. Their soul will be trapped in the horror world forever.)] At the very bottom was a line of fine print: [Final interpretation rights belong to the Horror World.] I was dumbfounded. I found the wristband was intangible and couldn’t be removed. “Player, do you wish to start a livestream? The livestream takes no cut; all tips belong to the player.” At this moment, another message popped up on the wristband. …Livestream? I frowned and didn’t make a selection. It defaulted to cancel. I took out my phone and found there was no signal. Calling the police was not an option. Also, time had stopped, showing 7:30 PM. “Hey, why are you spacing out? Don’t waste time, do you want to die?” Just then, a woman’s voice came from ahead. 4 I followed the voice and saw two men and four women standing a few steps away. Invisible to me, comments were scrolling on the livestream: [Who is this female player? She seems to have appeared out of nowhere!] [Checked her profile, she’s a rookie? Isn’t that just free kills?] [Hard to say, Leo is here! She has that innocent look Leo likes. His harem is about to grow.] Suppressing my confusion and panic, I walked up to them. Of the two men, one wearing a leather jacket looked me up and down, extending his hand with a smile: “Hello, I’m Leo. Since we entered the same dungeon, it’s fate… come here, follow behind me, I’ll carry you.” As soon as he finished, a girl got upset and hugged his arm tightly: “Leo, you have us three sisters, isn’t that enough?” I recognized her; she was the girl who called out to me earlier. “Enough, enough. Look at you, Momo, you’ve been with me for so long and you still get jealous!” Leo smiled flirtatiously, putting his arms around the three girls. “If we don’t enter the dungeon, when the fog swallows this place, we’ll all die!” At this time, the remaining girl spoke coldly. She seemed to be with the other man in black clothes. She also looked me up and down: “Once in the dungeon, life and death are up to fate. Don’t count on anyone!” With that, she and the man in black turned and walked toward a spot ahead. I noticed the fog was quietly shrinking, just like the safe zone in a battle royale game. If I didn’t move, I would die. Ignoring Leo’s hand, I followed the man and woman ahead. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Leo’s face darken, and he curled his lips in a mocking sneer at me. [My girl Qing is such a cool girl, I want to hug her!] [What’s with the high and mighty act? She’s just following Feng, trying to act like a boss babe!] [Leave my Leo alone, he’s a scumbag and he owns it. He just wants to give every girl a home!] Amidst the arguing comments, someone suddenly paid for a pinned message: [Stop arguing! Isn’t the point of camping this dungeon to see the Big Boss’s god-tier face? Who cares about Leo or Feng? When the supreme Boss appears, he crushes all mortals!] 5 I’ve read some novels, so I confirmed I had entered an “infinite flow” survival world. Although absurd, I took a deep breath and tried to accept the reality. Everything around was white, like heavy winter fog. After walking a few steps, at the end where the fog dispersed, an old hotel appeared. The hotel hadn’t been maintained for years. Paint was peeling off the exterior walls, mottled red and white patches looking quite shocking. At this moment, the gate was open, and the lights inside were bright. Entering the hotel, I realized the lobby was full of guests sitting at tables. They held knives and forks, poking at empty plates. Hearing someone arrive, they looked up at us. Their eyes were dyed with scarlet greed, like looking at lambs to the slaughter. Some were even drooling. I felt a chill run down my spine. Although these people wore human skin, what monsters lay beneath was unknown. Bang— The gate behind us slammed shut. My heart trembled. Before I could catch my breath, there was another Bang—, and a small figure flew past my eyes. It was a little girl. Like a rag doll, she smashed heavily into the corner. She wore a dirty little dress and looked beaten half to death. Her childish voice begged weakly: “Daddy… don’t hit me…” In her arms was a similarly dirty doll. After speaking, she looked up towards us, tears of blood flowing from her eyes: “Brother, sister… help me… I don’t want to die…” Seeing this scene, my face turned pale, triggering hidden, unbearable memories. “Leo, it’s the doll.” At this time, Momo pulled Leo and pointed at the little girl. No one responded to the little girl’s cry for help. I also closed my eyes and looked away. The next moment, the owner walked out. “Money-losing goods, shut your mouth!” The owner, his face covered in fat, kicked the little girl viciously. Vaguely, I heard the sound of bones cracking, and the little girl went quiet. …Fainted or dead? I dared not look, clenching my hands tightly. “Valued guests, welcome from afar. Please show your ID so I can register you.” The owner turned around. Facing us, he squeezed out an enthusiastic and fawning smile. The fat on his face piled up, looking like a slab of white pork, disgusting. I observed Leo and the others, seeing them tap their wristbands and take out an invitation. After taking his, Leo turned to look at me: “Summer, what a beautiful name, just like the person… So, you’re a rookie? If you don’t know how, I can teach you.” “She’s a rookie?” Momo beside him looked at me with contempt: “Seems the bug hasn’t been fixed. A few days ago, a batch of rookies stumbled into an S-class dungeon and had the bad luck to land in the Big Boss’s hands. They were wiped out overnight!” For some reason, hearing this, I suddenly connected it to the call from the police station. Those people who bullied me died tragically overnight a few days ago… “Momo, don’t scare her. Everyone starts as a rookie… Summer, you probably don’t know how to operate the wristband. I’ll teach you.” Leo walked behind me with a smile, trying to put his arms around me to operate the wristband. I quickly dodged. Following the steps I observed, I successfully took out the invitation: “Thanks, Mr. Leo, but no need.” He licked his thin lips, his gaze lingering on me for a long time: “No worries, there will always be things you don’t know, needing me to teach you hand-in-hand.” Gross! I felt greasy just listening to him! Ignoring him, I watched the owner take the invitations and respectfully go upstairs. The hotel had a spiral staircase winding upwards. Looking up, it seemed like a vortex. The owner’s figure gradually shrank and disappeared on the top floor. About a minute later, suddenly, the owner flew straight into the air and then fell heavily. Directly, he smashed onto the floor not far from me. Like a meat patty. Blood spread beneath him, but it was pitch black! This change stunned not only the players but also the guests in the lobby who were sharpening their knives. They all looked up at the top floor, silent as cicadas in winter.

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It was freezing cold, and I was digging through the school’s donation bin for old clothes. The richest girl in class caught me. Shame and inferiority washed over me. But then, she handed me a black plastic bag. “We have too many at home. They’ll expire if no one uses them.” I lowered my head. I was on my period, using toilet paper as a pad. Inside the bag were brand new sanitary pads. And inside that bag, she also preserved my crumbling dignity. 1 I snuck out at night to raid the donation bin. I didn’t want to, but it was freezing. My thin shirt couldn’t block the biting winter wind. The bin was designed so clothes dropped to the bottom. If it weren’t overflowing with donations, I wouldn’t have had a chance to fish anything out. Dignity? That shattered the moment I stood on my tiptoes, reaching into the bin like a scavenger. I finally snagged a thick coat. It was too big, but it looked warm. But when I looked up, my relieved smile froze. Standing there was Chloe, the richest girl in our class. She was a loner, always draped in clothes that cost more than my dad made in a month. She didn’t live on campus. I had no idea why she was still here after evening study hall. In that moment, my shame, helplessness, and fear condensed into a single sentence: “I’m sorry, I wasn’t stealing, I just…” The donation bin was for poor kids in rural mountain schools. I couldn’t finish the sentence. In my heart, it was stealing. She didn’t say a word. She just walked over and shoved a black plastic bag into my hands. “Use these. We have too many at home, they’ll expire if they aren’t used.” Then she turned and walked away. She didn’t even wait to see if I accepted it. Just shoved it at me. I didn’t have time to ask anything. I just watched her disappear into the snow. Years later, whenever I talked about that snowy night, I always said the same thing: “Chloe, you really were a true heiress. So cool.” Only after she was gone did I open the bag. It was full of pads. I checked the dates. They were manufactured a month ago. Nowhere near expiring. She walked away so decisively, just to protect my fragile pride. 2 I rarely paid attention to Chloe before. She always seemed high and mighty, keeping everyone at a distance. She didn’t even like talking to people. Her grades were above average. On casual dress days, she never repeated an outfit for a month. Naturally, our paths never crossed. But right now, I desperately wanted to thank her. Last night, when I went back to the dorm to wash up, I realized my black pants were stained. Toilet paper just couldn’t hold back the flood. I wondered how many classmates had witnessed my humiliating disaster yesterday. I thought, maybe she’s not antisocial. Maybe she’s just… good. My mom has intellectual disabilities; she couldn’t teach me these things. My dad works hard, but he couldn’t afford these things. The inferiority of poverty bent my spine and lowered my head. During the break, I cautiously approached Chloe. “Chloe, thank you for last night.” She glanced at me. Her eyes flicked to the hem of my shirt. Shame flooded me again. Under my faded school uniform, the coat I scavenged last night was poking out. I knew my face was red, burning all the way to my ears. But she just reached out and pulled my uniform down to cover it. “Nothing to thank me for.” She was as quiet as ever. After saying that, she went back to her English worksheet. But after evening study hall, she stopped me. “My mom bought me this jacket and I hate it. It’s ugly. We’re about the same size, you take it.” Her tone was blunt, almost rude. That’s why classmates called her arrogant and unapproachable. The bag she handed me contained a brand new down jacket. No tags. I didn’t recognize the brand. I tried to refuse. “No, it’s too expensive. I found a coat, I have enough.” I noticed the sole of my sneaker had a hole. Snowmelt was seeping in, freezing my foot. “Expensive?” She looked at me. “You think I’d wear cheap clothes?” Suddenly, she seemed cute, even with her fierce expression. She was trying so hard to protect my pride, making up excuses she couldn’t quite sell, so she just acted tough. I smiled at her. “Can I bring you lunch then?” She hated the cold. I noticed that early on. In winter, she bundled up like a dumpling. I remember someone asking if she skipped lunch to diet, and she said, “I’m afraid of the cold. I don’t want to go out.” I wanted to do something for her. I started bringing her lunch. A few days later, as I walked into the classroom, someone jeered: “Look, here comes Chloe’s servant girl!” 3 High school kids don’t realize how heavy words can be. The lunch box in my hand felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. But I gripped it tight and placed it on Chloe’s desk. She wasn’t there, so the mockery died down. When she walked in, someone immediately asked, “Chloe, when did Lily become your maid?” Chloe was holding a pair of freshly washed chopsticks. She glanced at me. I was sitting in my seat, head down, terrified to look up. She said calmly, “I hate the cold and didn’t want to go out, so I asked her for a favor. What’s the problem? Since when is helping a classmate being a maid?” She raised her voice. “Want to go tell the teacher about it?” Her serious expression scared off the gossipers. She walked straight to my desk and slammed an apple down. “I don’t like apples. You eat it.” I didn’t dare speak. I wanted to say thank you. But my poverty-induced cowardice couldn’t keep up with this bright, bold girl. What seemed like the end of the world to me was nothing to her. She went back to eating as if nothing happened. At least her food was still hot. I had carried it against my chest all the way. The apple was so sweet. I rarely ate fruit this good. Usually, it was whatever wild fruit we could pick in the countryside. Big, sweet, juicy apples were a luxury. My desk mate whispered, “How did you get in with Chloe?” I couldn’t tell the story of that night, so I mumbled, “Maybe she thinks I’m immune to cold?” I wasn’t immune. I was just used to freezing. “Makes sense.” My desk mate didn’t pry, but she added a warning. “She’s rich, but you should stay away from her.” “Why?” She leaned in close. “You’re always studying, so you don’t know. Why do you think no one hangs out with her?” She looked mysterious. “She acts like a princess, but money isn’t everything. Who knows if it’s dirty money?” “I heard her dad killed someone.” “A murderer’s daughter… what if she’s violent too?” “Stay away from her.” 4 It was the first time I’d heard this. But true or false, I still thought she was a good person. “I knew you wouldn’t believe it. But my grandma lives near her family. Everyone there knows.” She whispered conspiratorially, “Don’t tell anyone I told you.” I hate “I heard.” Usually, it’s lies. And true or false, I wanted to be her friend. Compared to my poverty, she looked so lonely. The down jacket she gave me was incredibly warm. I didn’t understand how something so thin could be so warm. The lunch delivery thing kept causing gossip. I became immune to the word “servant.” Even if they said it to my face, I ignored it. Because the heiress gave too much. Maybe Chloe was watching her weight, because she ate very little. Every time I brought lunch, she made me take half. The money I saved on lunch bought me stationery. Seeing her disinterested attitude towards everything, I suddenly asked, “Chloe, want me to tutor you?” Her expression was a mix of shock and something I couldn’t read. I kept my grades in the top 50 because I had no other entertainment. And I knew from a young age that education could change my fate. Even though my dad had to care for my disabled mom, he always told me: “Go to school. They say if you study hard, you won’t have to live like mom and dad. Dad will find a way to pay.” Dad wasn’t Superman. He couldn’t find many ways. So I got used to scrimping and saving. She looked at me and refused flatly. “No need. My family hired a tutor.” I really wanted to ask what kind of tutor kept her grades so consistently mediocre. I thought for a moment. “I won’t charge you. I eat your lunch, let me pay with knowledge?” She looked surprised. “But I would have thrown that food away.” “It’s different,” I insisted, face heating up. “Because I help you, I save money on my own lunch.” I was young and had pointless pride. My voice got quiet. She thought for a moment. “Fine. Come to my house this weekend after school.” Girls are the best. She didn’t just give me extra food. She switched to a bigger lunch box for herself.

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When I woke up in the morning, I was barely dressed. Liam sat at the edge of the bed, smoking a cigarette, looking satisfied. “Jayden stole my business, so I stole his woman. Call it even.” Buddy, you got the wrong person. I’m not his woman. I’m just the stand-in for that sickly rich boy’s obsession. 1 The first time Jayden visited the Amethyst Lounge, he set his sights on Crystal. He chose Crystal to drink with him, but decided it wasn’t romantic enough, so he demanded I provide background vocals. In the private room, he confessed to her: “Crystal, I like you.” Crystal: “Thank you, Mr. Jayden.” “Will you be my girlfriend?” “Sorry, I only sell drinks, not my body.” “I’m not asking you to sell your body! Be my official girlfriend. I’ll support you. You won’t have to work in a place like this anymore.” “You want to keep me? Sorry, I’m not for sale.” They were enacting a melodramatic soap opera right there. And I, the insignificant supporting character, was stuck in the corner singing background music to set the mood. The song was “Thousands of Songs,” a classic cantopop ballad Jayden specifically requested. After I finished, Jayden, whose attention was entirely on Crystal, turned to me and said, “Don’t change the song. Loop it ten times.” My heart wept. After over an hour of this tug-of-war, the young master finally lost his patience and showed his true colors. “You only drink and don’t ‘sell,’ right? Fine, today you’re going to drink your fill!” He pointed to a row of shot glasses filled with hard liquor on the table and said to Crystal, “Five hundred bucks a shot.” I thought, Damn, what a deal! I want to drink too! Crystal didn’t say a word. She picked up a glass and downed it. By the eighth glass, she ran out to vomit. Jayden leaned back on the sofa, looking like he hated the world. I leaned in. “Mr. Jayden, how about I drink for Crystal? I’ll do it for two hundred a shot.” Jayden didn’t even look at me. He said coldly, “Keep singing.” That night, Crystal risked her life to down twenty shots and earned a five-figure tip. I sang “Thousands of Songs” fifty times until my throat felt like it was smoking, and only got a basic $150 tip. Comparison is the thief of joy, and I was being robbed blind. For several days in a row, Jayden came every day, requested Crystal every day, and spent thousands each time. Unfortunately, money can’t buy love. Crystal refused to be his girlfriend, no matter what. 2 Later, Jayden disappeared. He probably gave up. I told Crystal, “You broke that pure boy’s heart.” Crystal looked indifferent. “I have plenty of clients. One less won’t hurt.” Tsk, such a flex. I had to admit, Crystal had the capital to flex. She was exceptionally beautiful, with a cold, aloof personality. An ice queen. She was the most sought-after girl here. One early morning, I got home around 3 AM. Just as I was about to sleep, my phone rang. It was a voice call from Jayden on WeChat. His voice sounded hollow and exhausted. “I can’t sleep. Sing to me over the phone. I’ll pay you.” Rich people really know how to play. “Okay, what do you want to hear?” “Thousands of Songs.” Again? What was his obsession with this old song? But the customer is king. Orders must be executed perfectly. I cleared my throat and sang softly: “Looking back slowly, at the night that once belonged to us…” … When I finished, he said, “Keep singing. Don’t stop even if I fall asleep. Sing until dawn.” This was too much! Just as I was about to refuse sternly, he sent a transfer. $450. “If I wake up and can still hear you, I’ll send another $450.” I silently accepted the transfer. Business had been slow lately. For $900, I’d sing my lungs out! Over and over again, a human jukebox on repeat. I almost went crazy singing it. Until the sky turned light gray, after who knows how many repetitions, his voice finally came through the phone: “I’m awake. You can stop now.” Thank the Lord, I was finally liberated! As I hung up, I received another $450 transfer from Jayden. Attached was a message: “I slept well last night. Thank you.” Sigh, poor boy. I couldn’t tell him the truth. Crystal already had a sugar daddy, a fifty-year-old CEO named Mr. Han. She was basically his kept woman. When Mr. Han was out of town during the week, she worked at the lounge. When he came back on weekends, she went to him. Earning money from both ends until her legs went soft. Rumor had it she’d already put a down payment on a condo. How could a woman like that be interested in a kid like Jayden? I asked Crystal, “Jayden isn’t bad. Young, handsome, and sincere. Are you really not considering him?” Crystal lit a cigarette. “I started working at sixteen. I’ve been in this industry for five years. I’ve seen them all. “A kid like Jayden isn’t a real rich second generation. He probably stole his parents’ savings or is spending his tuition money. “See, he hasn’t come for days. Probably ran out of cash.” The ice queen exhaled a cloud of smoke, wrapped in world-weariness and cynicism. 3 But I didn’t tell Crystal the truth either. Actually, Jayden hadn’t run out of money. Every morning at 3 AM, he would call me promptly on WeChat and ask me to sing “Thousands of Songs.” $450 before singing, $450 after waking up. Never missed a payment. It sounded great. But honestly, this money was hard to earn. I didn’t know how I kept going. Sometimes I was so sleepy I’d stab my thigh with a hairpin to stay awake. Ancient scholars tied their hair to the beam to study; modern lounge singers stabbed their thighs to survive. No choice. I had to live. Half a month later, I transferred a sum of money to my mom. I asked, “How is my brother doing?” Mom sounded down. “Still not good. Your dad and I discussed it; we’re going to switch to imported medicine.” Imported medicine meant more money. Much, much more money. That meant I had to work even harder. I started taking day jobs, accompanying clients to dinners and drinking for tips. At 8 PM, I’d rush to the lounge for my shift. At 3 AM, I’d sing for the sickly rich boy. For half a month, I spun like a top. Sometimes I was so tired I’d fall asleep sitting on the toilet. One night, I met a big spender who challenged us girls to drink. $100 tip per shot. I was sleepy, but hearing that, I perked up instantly. I rushed forward like a madwoman and started drinking. I don’t remember when I blacked out. When I woke up, the sun was high in the sky. I sat up in bed like a dying patient jolted back to life. “Thousands of Songs!” Checking WeChat, Jayden had called me 15 times between 3 AM and 8 AM. I hurriedly messaged him: “I’m so sorry! I drank too much last night and blacked out. I didn’t mean to stand you up.” A while later, Jayden replied: “How much did the client pay you to make you drink like that?” My heart clogged. His words felt sharp. I replied with restraint: “It’s my job. I have no choice.” He doubled down: “Why do such a job?” “To make money. Why, do you think it’s shameful?” “More than shameful. It’s cheap.” I only replied with a smile emoji. 4 My restraint saved me Jayden, this VIP client. At 3 AM, he called as usual, apologizing immediately: “Sorry. I didn’t sleep all night. During the day, I couldn’t control my temper. I spoke harshly and hurt you.” I said, “It’s fine. But I have a question. Why are you obsessed with ‘Thousands of Songs’?” I wanted to know what trauma made him need someone singing to sleep every night. Silence on the other end. Then: “When I was little, my mom used to sing it to me to sleep. Your voice sounds like hers.” Ah, so it was a lullaby. “You don’t think I have an Oedipus complex, do you? Haha.” He laughed, a clear, bright sound. Like the sun breaking through clouds. “Don’t worry, I don’t see you as my mom. I just haven’t seen her in a long time. I miss her.” “Where did she go?” “I don’t know. Maybe Canada, maybe the UK. She changed her contact info. I can’t find her.” I can’t find her. He said it lightly, but I felt the heavy sadness. I suddenly thought of my brother. He was the same age as Jayden, nineteen. My brother was a good student, the hope of the family. In the first semester of his senior year, he fainted after midterms. After a month of transferring between hospitals, the diagnosis came. Leukemia. I was in college then, studying hard to transfer to a university. After the diagnosis, I cried in the library all night. The next day, I calmly filed for a leave of absence. Leaving school, I took off my jeans, put on black stockings, let down my ponytail, dyed my hair a trendy color, and entered the Amethyst Lounge. I needed money. A lot of money, very quickly. A month later, I sent the first remittance home. My parents never asked how I earned the money. Maybe they guessed but were afraid to hear the truth. As long as it could save my brother’s life, how I earned it didn’t matter. I stopped thinking about my future. I just made money like a machine. Earn, earn, earn. Jayden’s appearance plucked a nerve I thought had gone numb.

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When my dad’s “first love” returned from abroad, she demanded my mom step down as Mrs. Sterling. My mom, being the sweet, naive trophy wife she was, didn’t want anything. She just wanted to take me with her. I pinned my mom down, furious at her lack of ambition. “Mom! Why do you want me? You want the money!” “Wouldn’t it be nice to take this middle-aged man’s fortune and hire ten hot young guys to fan you with palm leaves?” “Me? Don’t worry about me.” “I’ll use his money to support you!” 1 In the living room, my dad, Richard Sterling—a successful, handsome, middle-aged man—sat upright. Next to him sat his returning “white moonlight,” Linda. My mom, Sarah, the sweet, naive trophy wife, was holding my hand, crying her eyes out. “Richard, I don’t want anything. But Nina has to come with me!” Linda advised gently: “Sarah, the child will have a better future with Richard. You need to consider her well-being. Don’t be selfish.” My dad looked at her with admiration. My mom cried even harder. “I only have Nina. I don’t care, I…” Before she could finish, I grabbed her, pulled her aside, and whispered fiercely into her ear: “Mom! Why do you want me? Ask for the money!” My mom stared at me, tears hanging on her lashes, looking pitiful. “Nina?” I sighed, exasperated. “Take Richard’s money. Travel the world. Date a dozen college boys. Doesn’t that sound better?” Her eyes went wide. She was nearly forty but still as innocent as a teenager. “B-but what about you?” I continued brainwashing her. “Me? Don’t worry about me. I’ll stay, keep being the rich heiress, and funnel his money to you later!” My mom hesitated. “But…” I cut her off, turned to my dad, and flashed a fake corporate smile. “Dad, let’s discuss Mom’s compensation for lost youth and emotional damages…” 2 My dad, amused by my sudden business-like tone, took a sip of tea. “Let’s hear it.” I didn’t hold back. I smiled and started listing demands like a menu. “First, the penthouse downtown goes to Mom. Second, fifteen percent of your company’s original shares. Not too much, right? Finally, a bit of cash. Let’s say… a hundred million. A nice round number.” Mom gasped behind me. Linda’s face fell, but she maintained her gentle facade. “Nina, you’re still young. You don’t understand these things. This would impact your father’s company greatly.” I glanced at her. “Auntie, my parents are discussing divorce settlements. As an outsider, why are you interrupting?” “I…” Linda’s face flushed red. My dad waved a hand to silence her, looking at me with interest. “Fifteen percent is too much. The house and cash are fine.” “No deal.” I stood my ground. “The shares are the bottom line. Mom was with you for seventeen years. Even if she didn’t build the empire, she supported you. Now you’re kicking her out for your old flame. You have to give her some security, right? Otherwise, word gets out that Richard Sterling abandons his wife… that’ll hurt the stock price more.” “You!” My dad choked on his anger. I met his gaze fearlessly. You think you can treat my mom like a disposable napkin? Dream on. After a tense silence, Richard suddenly laughed. “Fine. I agree.” He agreed so readily it surprised me. “Shares, house, cash. All hers. But I have one condition.” “What condition?” He pointed at me. “You stay.” 3 I knew why he wanted me. No one knew my dad’s ego better than I did. He liked Linda, sure. But I was excellent, a worthy heir in his eyes. Plus, Linda couldn’t have kids anymore. Whatever his reasons, it played right into my hands. I had to stay to remain the rich heiress, to spend his money, to support my naive mom. A perfect loop. But Sarah wasn’t having it. She pulled me behind her, glaring at Richard like a protective hen. “No! I don’t want the money! I want my daughter!” Me: “…” Mom, wake up! You’re delaying the wire transfer! I dragged her aside again for more ideological work. “Mom, listen. I’m going undercover behind enemy lines, get it?” “What?” “Think about it. You leave with the money, free as a bird. “If I stay, he’ll feel guilty and treat me better. I’ll just transfer my allowance to you. It’s sustainable wool-shearing!” Mom nodded, half-understanding. I added the final blow: “Besides, with me here, he and his ‘white moonlight’ won’t have it easy. I’ll be a thorn in their side, a constant reminder of the kind, beautiful wife he lost.” Mom’s expression shifted. She looked at me, then at Richard. Finally, with my encouragement, she nodded—humiliated but tragic. I smiled, relieved. The agreement was signed quickly. Richard’s lawyers were efficient. Sarah signed her name with a trembling hand. In that moment, she officially became a multi-millionaire. 4 The moment my mom left, Linda started asserting her dominance. “Nina, we’re a family now.” She smiled gently and cooked dinner herself. Four dishes and a soup, plating exquisite. “Nina, try my Squirrel Fish. It’s my specialty.” She enthusiastically put food in my bowl. I looked at the perfect fish and felt zero appetite. My mom might be naive, but her cooking was legendary. My palate had been spoiled since birth. I put down my chopsticks, pulled out my phone, and opened Uber Eats. “One deluxe black truffle pizza, double cheese. And a sashimi platter…” I ordered slowly, right in front of her. Linda’s smile froze. “Nina, I worked hard on this…” I interrupted. “Auntie, Dad hired a chef. You didn’t need to cook. Besides, I don’t like your food.” Anger finally surfaced on Linda’s face. My dad came out of the study and frowned. “Nina, how are you talking to Auntie Linda?” I shrugged. “Dad, if you like it, you eat it.” My dad, naturally backing his true love, took a bite of the fish. Under Linda’s expectant gaze, he hesitated before saying gently: “Linda, let’s leave the cooking to the chef from now on.” Linda nodded, humiliated, but didn’t dare argue. The delivery arrived quickly. I turned on the projector, ate, and watched a movie. Linda’s carefully prepared meal sat untouched on the table. 5 The next morning, I came downstairs to find Linda directing the servants. “Change these curtains to beige, it matches the sofa better.” “This vase is tacky. Get a classier one.” “And Richard’s study—he likes it tidy. Put away all those knick-knacks.” She was playing the lady of the house, changing everything my mom loved. I sneered and walked over. “Maria, leave the vase.” Maria looked torn between me and Linda. Linda walked over, speaking softly. “Nina, the style is outdated. Changing it will lift everyone’s mood.” “My mood is fine.” I leaned on the banister, ignoring her passive-aggressive tone. “I’m used to what my mom picked. If you’re not used to it, you can move out.” “Nina!” My dad’s voice came from the dining room, warningly. I turned to him, spreading my hands innocently. “Dad, Mom decorated every corner of this house. She just left, and you can’t wait to erase her existence?” Linda walked over, tugging Dad’s sleeve gently. “Richard, don’t blame Nina. I didn’t think it through. I just wanted to make the home warmer…” Her eyes reddened, looking like she’d been terribly wronged. The middle-aged man’s heart melted instantly. He patted Linda’s shoulder and turned to me. “Nina, Auntie Linda means well. She’s in charge of the house now.” I smiled. “Great. Is she in charge of me too?” Dad nodded instinctively. Exactly what I was waiting for. I pulled out my phone, opened a luxury website, and pointed to the latest bag. “Auntie Linda, which color should I get? Or should I get one of each?” Linda froze. I continued sincerely: “And the charity gala next week—I want to bid on a diamond necklace. Can you help me decide the budget?” I shoved the phone in her face, smiling sweetly. “Dad said you’re in charge. My spending falls under that, right?” Linda’s face turned green.

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On the day we were supposed to register for college, my boyfriend—who had just gotten into a top-tier university—suddenly said he picked the wrong major and wanted to take a gap year to reapply. I knew immediately: He was doing it for her. His childhood friend who didn’t get in. His parents begged me to talk sense into him. After struggling with it all night, he stood outside my dorm and told me: “I’ve thought it through. I’m not taking a gap year. Let’s be together properly.” But at the freshman welcome party, when the counselor called his name, his phone lit up. It was a message from her. “My prep classes started today. It feels weird not having you as my desk mate.” He froze. I grabbed his hand, whispering a warning: “If you leave now, we are done forever.” He just muttered “I’m sorry,” grabbed his suitcase, and walked out of my life. 1 “Mr. and Mrs. Miller, you heard him.” “Caleb said it himself. This is his choice. I respect it, and I’d appreciate it if you respected me, too.” “I have to unpack my dorm room. I won’t see you out.” I turned my back to start putting sheets on my bed, ignoring Caleb’s parents completely. Defeated, they finally left. My mom was fuming, her chest heaving as she grabbed my hand, eyes full of pain for me. “Jenna, don’t be sad. A man like that isn’t worth it! Wasting your future on him? Not worth it!” I smiled, comforting her. “Mom, I’m fine. Really.” “I saw this coming a mile away, but I never thought he’d be stupid enough to actually do it. Giving up Stanford to go retake classes with Sarah?” My best friend called, screaming over the phone. “Caleb is such a piece of trash! Retaking a year for that pick-me girl? Jenna, are you okay?” I paused. “I’m okay.” “I knew Sarah was bad news! Always ‘Caleb this, Caleb that,’ it makes me want to barf! And Caleb is blind enough to fall for it!” Listening to my best friend’s righteous anger, I felt surprisingly calm. I used to be confident in my relationship with Caleb. I had sensed something between him and Sarah, but I was too busy studying to pay much attention. Because he once said, “I don’t like people who flaunt their wealth,” I refused the $15,000 monthly allowance my dad offered. I ate in the cafeteria with him every day. When we were rushing, if he ate bread, I ate granola bars. I put my billion-dollar inheritance on hold just to study alongside him like my life depended on it. Getting into Stanford on my own merits was my way of proving to him that I wasn’t just a rich girl. But he never knew how many times I secretly had my family bail out his dad’s failing factory, just so financial stress wouldn’t impact his studies. I thought once we got into Stanford and away from Sarah, Caleb would focus on us. I overestimated him. And I underestimated Sarah’s tears. The news of us getting into Stanford as a “power couple” had already made local headlines. Now, with this drama, a new hashtag was climbing the trending list. #StanfordScholarGivesUpSpotForHighSchoolSweetheart The comments section was exploding. [Is he insane? It’s Stanford! Just throwing it away? For a girl who didn’t even get in?] [Did a donkey kick him in the head? What kind of love is worth more than your future?] [I’m curious who this ‘childhood sweetheart’ is to have that much power.] Soon, netizens dug up Sarah’s photos and info. The public opinion shifted instantly. [That’s it? She’s not even as pretty as the original girlfriend. Is he blind?] [She knew he had a girlfriend and still clung to him? What a pick-me, total homewrecker!] My phone wouldn’t stop vibrating with consolation texts from friends and family. I didn’t reply to a single one. It just felt ironic. The next day, just when I thought things would die down, Caleb called. He sounded furious, like I’d murdered his family. “Jenna, did you orchestrate this trending topic?” 2 I laughed out loud at his audacity. “Caleb, did repeating a year rot your brain? Do you think I have the time to hype up your scandal?” He choked for a second, then demanded righteously, “Then issue a statement now! Clarify things online! Say we broke up peacefully a long time ago.” “My decision to retake the year is mine alone, it has nothing to do with Sarah! She’s getting torn apart online, she’s been crying all day!” Hearing the heartache in his voice for Sarah, my smile turned icy. “Why should I clarify?” “We broke up because you betrayed me for another woman. You’re retaking the year because of her.” “Caleb, I have no obligation to help you or your little sweetheart face the consequences of your own actions.” “As far as I’m concerned, the moment we broke up, we were strangers. I don’t owe you anything.” “You—” I hung up before he could finish. Blocked. A few days later, a post on the Stanford campus forum went viral. [Exposing Freshman Jenna: The So-Called ‘Golden Girl’ is Just a Bully Who Used Money to Force Love!] The post painted a vivid picture of me as a possessive, manipulative rich girl. It claimed I had been obsessed with the brilliant Caleb since childhood and used my family’s power to force him to be with me. It said he and his childhood friend Sarah were the true lovers, torn apart by me, the villainess. The post alleged that after getting into Stanford, Caleb wanted to break up and get back with Sarah. But I supposedly threatened suicide and vowed to use my family’s influence to destroy his family’s business, forcing him to submit. Finally, it concluded: Caleb’s decision to retake the year wasn’t for love, but a brave rebellion to escape my control. It even included several carefully edited photos. Me looking cold next to Sarah (interpreted as jealousy). Caleb frowning while talking to me (interpreted as enduring my abuse). And one of Sarah crying while Caleb comforted her (hailed as true love). Public opinion flipped instantly. The netizens who were sympathizing with me and bashing Caleb yesterday suddenly developed amnesia. They turned their guns on me. [Whoa, what a plot twist! I wondered why a smart guy would be so dumb. He was forced!] [Jenna is disgusting! Think you’re special because you’re rich? You can’t buy love!] [Poor Sarah and Caleb. This is like a modern-day tyrant stealing a bride.] [Jenna, get out of Stanford! We don’t want trash like you here!] The comments were filthy. My personal info—phone number, dorm room—was doxxed. My phone blew up with abusive texts and calls from strangers. Some people even came to my dorm building, shouting at my window. “Jenna! You bitch! Come out!” “Bully! Shameless!” My roommate was furious, rolling up her sleeves to go fight them, but I stopped her. “Don’t. They’re irrational right now. You won’t get through to them.” She was tearing up. “Jenna, what do we do? How can they say these things without knowing the truth?” I looked at the angry faces outside. I felt nothing. I even wanted to laugh. This style was too familiar. It had to be Sarah. Only Caleb would be stupid enough to tell her our history, which she then twisted into a weapon against me. They thought these dirty tricks would drag me into the mud and make them look innocent. Naive. 3 The next day, I took leave from school and showed up at the high school where Caleb and Sarah were retaking classes. News that I arrived in a top-tier luxury car spread fast. Students gathered around. “Omg, that car is expensive. Which rich kid is it?” “I heard it’s the senior who graduated last year, the one who got into Stanford!” “Isn’t that Jenna? She was on the local news.” “Yeah, yeah! Didn’t you know? Caleb, who got into Stanford with her, is back here retaking classes to be with his childhood sweetheart.” “God, is he sick? Skipping Stanford for a girl?” Hearing the commotion, Caleb and Sarah rushed over. “What, here to beg me to go back to Stanford? Annoying. I told you we broke up. I’m here for Sarah now, stop disturbing our studies!” Caleb looked at me with disdain and impatience, as if our past relationship was all an act. I cleared my throat. “I’m not here to persuade you. I’m here for one thing.” “I want an apology!” “Apology?” Caleb paused. I looked at Sarah, standing beside him. “You paid for those forum posts, right? They’ve seriously impacted my life. I demand you delete them and apologize publicly!” Honestly, I could have just asked my dad. One call, and every negative post about me would vanish in minutes. Maybe I still held a shred of hope for Caleb. If they apologized, I’d let it go. But Caleb looked at me like I was the biggest joke in the world. His contempt deepened. “Did Sarah say anything wrong in those posts?” “You bullied her first. If the online comments hadn’t hurt her, she wouldn’t have fought back.” “Sarah is kind. Unlike someone who only knows how to bully people with money!” He pulled Sarah close, creating an intimate scene. Sarah leaned into him weakly, a flash of triumph in her eyes. I realized I had oversimplified things. Or rather, I finally saw that Caleb was just rotten to the core. “High schoolers aren’t supposed to date. Don’t you know that?” I stopped saving face for them. Caleb scoffed. “The principal didn’t say anything. Why do you care?” “Besides, this year, Sarah and I will get into Stanford together as a power couple. Just you wait.” I laughed internally. Her? Getting into Stanford? Keep dreaming. Sarah wasn’t happy. She started whining to Caleb. “Caleb, she’s too much. Is having ambition wrong?” “Jenna just looks down on me because she has money and power.” “Sarah’s right.” Caleb tapped her nose affectionately, then looked at me with pure disgust. “Jenna, you’ve gone too far. I want you to apologize to Sarah. Otherwise, we won’t delete those posts.” I was furious. This was completely backwards! “Me? Apologize? Is she worthy?” “I think you’ve lost your mind. You are a piece of trash. Completely rotten.” “You…” I stopped engaging with them and waved at the car. A man in a suit and glasses stepped out and walked over… 4 “Mr. Yang, no need to deliberate. File the lawsuit against Sarah immediately.” I said each word clearly in front of everyone. Caleb reacted instantly. “What do you mean? You’re suing Sarah?” “Jenna, is this necessary? Do you have to blow this up?” Sarah’s eyes reddened on cue, tears ready to fall. “Caleb, what do I do? Is Jenna blaming me? I didn’t do anything wrong.” “Of course you didn’t. You’re too kind, that’s why people bully you. Don’t be scared, Sarah. I’ve got you.” Heh. How touching. Caleb let go of Sarah and marched up to me, face full of anger. “Jenna! What do you want? Why sue Sarah? She’s just an innocent girl who doesn’t know anything!” He grabbed my wrist hard. I frowned and shook him off. “Doesn’t know anything? Caleb, are you insulting my intelligence or the law?” “She didn’t mean it! She just loves me too much!” “Enough.” I cut off his excuses coldly. “Save the sob story. If you’re begging, act like it.” My imposing manner seemed to stun him. He froze. “Drop the lawsuit. It’s better for everyone. Otherwise, with your ability, you’ll lose. I will protect Sarah to the end! I’ll get her the best lawyer in the world.” I laughed. I didn’t realize his confidence had swelled this much. Just because I ate humble pie with him for a few years, he thought I was weak. I didn’t want to waste another word. I took out my phone and called my dad on speaker. “Dad, it’s me.” “Hmm? Is it resolved?” “No.” I looked at Caleb and spoke clearly. “I want to sue Sarah. And I want the Jiang Group to pull all sponsorship and contracts with the Miller family. I want the Millers out of the city!” 5 My father didn’t hesitate. “Done.” Caleb looked like he’d been struck by lightning. He stood rigid. He stared at me in disbelief, lips trembling. “What did you say? Contracts? What contracts?” “Why do you think your father’s company has had such smooth sailing and big projects these past few years?” I smirked, eyes full of mockery. “Caleb, you enjoyed the benefits my family provided, then turned around and bit me. Now, I’m just taking back what’s mine.” He panicked completely, lunging to grab my phone. I dodged. “Jenna! Is this necessary?! Over something so small! Do you have to destroy us?!” “Yes.” I looked straight into his terrified eyes. “I am that petty.” “I won’t let you or Sarah off the hook!” Not long after the call, Caleb’s parents—who had just received news that funding stopped and bankruptcy was imminent—rushed over. Mr. Miller slapped Caleb across the face. Smack! “You ungrateful son! I’ll kill you!” He was shaking with rage, pointing at Caleb’s nose. “I told you to treat Jenna well! What have you done?” “For a woman like that, you threw away your Stanford acceptance like trash! And now the Jiangs pulled everything! The company is finished! Are you happy?!” Mrs. Miller was wailing. “Why did I give birth to such a useless thing! Don’t you know our family relies on the Jiangs? You’ve ruined us all!” Caleb clutched his swelling face, neck stiff with defiance. “You only care about money! About contracts! Do you care about how I feel?” “I love Sarah! I don’t want to sacrifice my feelings for family interests! I don’t want a life arranged for me!” “Your life?” Mr. Miller laughed angrily. “Without the Jiangs, you couldn’t afford the house you live in! What life are you talking about?” “You’re forcing me!” “Are we forcing you, or are you just stupid?!” I watched coldly from the side. When the school administration came out to mediate, I left. Later, I heard from my dad that the Millers tried everything to fill the financial hole, begging and selling assets, but it was useless. The once-proud Miller family was on the brink of bankruptcy within two weeks. And Caleb, the golden boy, fell from the clouds into the mud. He never came to find me again. As for Sarah, my lawsuit was a slam dunk. She was sentenced to two years for defamation and libel. Caleb tried to make a scene at my house when he found out, but my parents kicked him out. Time flew. It was the first winter break of college. Our high school class organized a reunion. I didn’t want to go, but my best friend dragged me along. The private room was lively. As soon as I walked in, I saw Caleb sitting in the corner. In just a few months, he looked drained. He wore a faded T-shirt, eyes dull. The spirited boy who walked into Stanford with me was gone. I glanced at him once, then looked away and sat with my friend. Everyone chatted about college life. The atmosphere was fine. Until a drunk guy pointed at Caleb. “Caleb, you’re a legend! Giving up Stanford to retake high school… for, hehe, love?” His laugh was mocking. “Guys, what do we call this? A hero sacrificing everything for a beauty!” The room went quiet. Everyone looked at Caleb. Caleb clenched his fists, face red. He didn’t retort to the guy. Instead, he looked up and glared at me. That accusing look, as if I was the one mocking him. I frowned. Baffling.

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During an argument on the bus, my “school bully” boyfriend broke up with me. I sneered, “Out of the two of you, you’re the only one with problems.” He instantly lost it, demanding to know who the “other one” was. I made up some nonsense: “Student Council President, 6’1″, handsome, long legs, better than you in every way. Hehe.” The next moment. The guy sitting next to us, wearing a grey hoodie, took off his headphones and pulled down his mask. He coughed lightly: “Correction: I’m 6’1.28″.” Help. I was caught lying by the person I was lying about. 1 It was Friday after school. Brad and I were arguing on the bus. Half the bus full of grandmas and grandpas perked up their ears, listening with relish. “Joy, can you stop overthinking? Sarah is just a really good friend,” Brad said, one hand in his pocket, face full of annoyance. There were no seats left, so we were standing in the aisle. Outside the window, green shadows flashed by rapidly. The wind blew the hair on Brad’s forehead, revealing his cold, impatient eyes. “Friend? What kind of platonic friend uses matching couple avatars in a game?” I scoffed, exposing him mercilessly. If I hadn’t just seen Sarah posting game screenshots and match records, I wouldn’t have known Brad’s cat avatar had a matching half. Good job. Texting me “goodnight” one minute. Gaming with his “female bro” until midnight the next. “You don’t play, what’s wrong with me matching with her?” “I treat Sarah like a bro.” “Why do I need to explain? What does a couple avatar prove?” “Are you delusional? Or just paranoid?” “Stop being unreasonable.” Brad frowned, looking exhausted, like I was the problem. I was stunned. How could he be so shameless? Gaslighting me? Really? 2 I was so angry I wanted to slap him. Just as I raised my hand, the bus hit a red light. The bus driver was wild. No slowing down, just a hard brake right at the line. Before my slap could land on Brad’s face, I spun 180 degrees uncontrollably, nearly flying into the lap of the guy sitting next to us. The guy had headphones on and his eyes closed, seemingly asleep. Most of his face was covered by a mask; his eyelashes were long and thick, resting quietly. Thankfully, I gripped the handrail tight, avoiding intimate contact. Just as I steadied myself, Brad spoke again. “If that’s what you think, I can’t help it.” “We should take a break and cool off.” “You choose.” At peak anger, I suddenly calmed down. Heh. Trying to use a breakup to make me compromise? Fine, let’s break up. There are plenty of fish in the sea. But I couldn’t lose face and just let him win. I laughed in anger. Curling my lip, I tsked and shook my head helplessly: “Let’s break up then. Out of the two of you, you’re the only one with problems.” “What?” Brad froze for a second. Realizing what I said, his face turned ugly. “Joy, am I not enough? You have another man on the side?!” 3 “You’ve got it wrong. He’s the main boyfriend. I just never went public with him.” “You’re the third wheel who chased me relentlessly and intruded on our relationship.” I sighed, condemning him with a heartbroken expression. The audience on the bus couldn’t sit still anymore. Pointing and whispering, lamenting how wild young people are these days. “I… I’m the side piece?” Brad looked like he’d been struck by lightning. Stunned. Then his face flushed red from his neck up. He grabbed my arm and roared furiously. “Joy, you cheater! You played me!” “Tell me who he is! Who is he? How am I worse than him? Speak! Tell me now!!!” Seeing him lose it, I felt amazing. I slapped his hand away and started spewing nonsense. “Liam from the Law School.” “Student Council President, 6’1″, handsome, long legs, better than you in every way. Hehe.” A peak existence everyone looked up to. Let’s see how you compare to him. Before the words even settled, and before Brad could react… The guy next to us who was “sleeping” suddenly took off his headphones. Slender fingers pulled down his mask, revealing superior features. He coughed lightly, his voice clear and melodious. “Um, correction: I’m 6’1.28″.” 4 Everyone at River University knew Liam. Handsome, top student, campus heartthrob, and academic god. Cold and clean temperament, basically a deity. Completely different from the wild, arrogant “school bully” type like Brad. I didn’t know him personally, but I knew his face. Help. I got caught lying by the person I was lying about. “I, uh…” My brain was a mess. I was so guilty and embarrassed I didn’t know what to say. Brad scowled and sneered: “Liam, is she really your girlfriend?” “She and I—” Liam lifted his eyelids and looked at me calmly. It’s over. I’m about to be exposed and slapped in the face by the main character. If Sarah, that little Green Tea, found out, she would spread it everywhere and laugh at me. In a critical moment, I steadied myself, brain spinning fast. “Hi, babe. What a coincidence, you’re here too.” I showed a standard eight-tooth smile, sweet as candy. I intimately grabbed Liam’s jacket, turning sideways to block Brad’s view, staring intently at Liam, begging silently. Don’t expose me. Please, God Liam. I finally stood up to Brad. Please play along. Boohoo. I will repay your great kindness. Meeting my teary-eyed, pitiful gaze, Liam’s nice eyebrows furrowed slightly. Silence for a few seconds. He paused, then said lightly. “She and I are exactly what you think.” 5 We got off at the stop. On the sidewalk, Brad stood in front of me and Liam with his hands in his pockets, gritting his teeth: “Great. I wish you the best.” I rolled my eyes at him, looking up at Liam with a smile and acting spoiled. “Babe, are you happy? Finally gave you a title.” “Everyone else is just trash.” “No one compares to you. I like you the best.” Brad’s face got even worse. “I hope you break up tonight!” He sneered, his aura dropping even lower. Unable to bear it, he dropped that line and turned to leave. “Wait, don’t go!” I called out. “Oh? Can’t bear to let me go?” Brad stopped, raising an eyebrow triumphantly at Liam. “You wish. I mean don’t walk, you’re too slow.” “Run! Get out of my sight immediately.” … After Brad stormed off with a black face, my smile vanished. I put my hands together in prayer, quickly apologizing to Liam who had been silent beside me. “Liam, I’m so sorry. I got carried away and spouted nonsense.” “Brad cares about face the most. Don’t worry, he definitely won’t tell anyone about my lies.” “I promise, it absolutely won’t affect you. And thank you for playing along. Thank you so much.” 6 “It’s okay.” Liam nodded politely. The midsummer evening breeze was gentle. Carrying the cool scent of lime and sea salt soda, blowing away the day’s humidity. He wore simple black pants and sneakers. On top was a loose grey hoodie, zipped halfway down. Revealing a bit of a white T-shirt collar and beautiful, sharp collarbones. Slender figure. Quiet yet eye-catching. I really wanted to bow down to him. Beautiful person, beautiful heart. He’s so good. Boohoo. “Liam, let me treat you to dinner.” Liam refused. I insisted. Finally, he pointed to a nearby convenience store, helpless: “Dinner isn’t necessary. Just buy me an ice cream.” … After buying ice cream, I added Liam on WeChat. One ice cream wasn’t enough. I definitely had to treat him to a meal if I got the chance. After saying goodbye, I took a taxi back to school. Originally, I planned to go see fireflies at the Forest Park with Brad tonight. He didn’t ride his flashy motorcycle, saying squeezing on the bus together was sweeter. Didn’t expect us to argue the whole way and end up breaking up. I opened WeChat, scrolling through my feed out of boredom. Sarah posted another update— “Don’t be sad~ Breaking up is no big deal, I’ll always be with you~ (Hug) (Hug)” I was disgusted. The little Green Tea finally got what she wanted. Her secret delight was leaking through the words. I couldn’t swallow this anger. My eyes turned red. I furiously typed a comment— “I’ll play the trumpet at your mom’s funeral~” 7 After being emo for two days, I was visibly withered. Monday morning classes were killing me. After class in the afternoon, I went to the playground for a walk, and coincidentally ran into Brad again. He was playing basketball with a tense face, as if venting. His jersey was soaked. He looked to be in a bad mood. Sarah sat on the bench, holding a water bottle, smiling at Brad. I kept my head down and walked. Brad had sharp eyes. He saw me, did a fadeaway jump shot, swish. He strode over to block me. “Joy, why are you alone?” “Where’s your boyfriend? Why isn’t he with you?” Me: “He’s not as idle as you.” Sarah, afraid we’d get back together, quickly trotted over. “Joy, you have a new boyfriend? That was fast.” “Then why do you look so bad? Did you break up again?” She looked me up and down, gasping softly. “Shut up! Can you have as little drama as you have hair?” Fire rose in my chest. I stared at her large forehead and sneered. Sarah was pricked, almost losing her composure. She barely maintained her expression, saying fake-ly: “Joy, no matter what you think, Brad and I are innocent. You misunderstood.” “You act more than a trash bag holds trash.” “You really misunderstood us!” “Shake your brain before speaking.” After my barrage, Sarah couldn’t speak. She turned to Brad, voice trembling: “Your ex-girlfriend is so mean.”

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I accidentally crushed my sister’s baby. Flattened it right into the floor. They say a child is a piece of a mother’s own flesh. To make it up to her, I carved a chunk of meat from my own stomach and gave it to my sister. Less than a week later, the meat suddenly came alive. It grew eyes, a nose, and opened its mouth to call me “Mama.” 1 It all started a month ago. My sister, Lisa, had been married for years. She tried everything to get pregnant, but nothing worked. With her thirtieth birthday approaching, Mom suggested she try IVF. But on her birthday, Lisa suddenly announced she had a child. The whole family was stunned. Not only because it was out of the blue, but don’t you need to be pregnant to have a kid? Her stomach had been flat all year. Where did this child come from? Lisa shook her head mysteriously and brought out a thermal container from her room. It was about the size of a hamster cage, lined with gauze and cotton. In the center lay a piece of meat, the size of a palm. Lisa tapped gently on the box, her voice soft: “Dolly, Grandma and Auntie are here to see you!” Mom and I exchanged looks. We both thought she’d lost her mind. But then, the meat moved. It wiggled toward the glass lid. Looking closer, I saw two slits on the surface. They opened slightly, revealing what looked exactly like eyes, staring straight at us. I screamed, nearly falling off my chair. Lisa smiled. She scooped the meat up in her hands and held it out to us like a treasure. “Mom, Sis, look! Isn’t Dolly cute?” Mom was terrified, covering her mouth with trembling hands. “Lisa… don’t scare me like this…” 2 Lisa’s face darkened instantly. “Mom, what do you mean? Do you think I’m crazy?” Mom didn’t answer, just silently wiped her tears. Lisa turned to me. “Sis, do you think so too?” Before I could speak, she put the meat back in the box and sat down coldly. “I know you don’t believe me, but I paid a lot of money for this method!” Lisa told us it was a secret folk ritual. You cut a piece of flesh from your stomach and feed it with fresh blood. The meat will gradually grow into the shape of a child, looking exactly like you. “You know how much I’ve suffered trying to get pregnant all these years. Now I finally have a child. Even if she’s a monster, I accept it!” Tears streamed down Lisa’s face as she spoke. Seeing this, the meat actually pushed open the lid and jumped out, excitedly trying to wipe Lisa’s tears while constantly crying, “Mama.” Mom and I were dumbfounded. Mom swallowed her words, sighed, and decided not to stop her. As her sister, I couldn’t really interfere either, so we let it be. But after dinner, Lisa pulled me aside. “Sis, my husband Mark is coming back tonight. I’m afraid he won’t accept the child right away. Can you take care of her for a while?” Mark was a traditional guy. Years of infertility had cooled their marriage. Since Lisa didn’t work and didn’t control the finances, she was always careful around him. Seeing my hesitation, she held up a finger. “I calculated it. In just one week, she’ll grow into a normal-looking baby. I’ll take her back then!” “Sis, please, for the sake of my marriage, help me!” 3 I was soft-hearted, so I agreed. I took the ball of meat home. Following instructions, I had to feed it every night before bed. I filled a baby bottle with the fresh blood Lisa had prepared, fought back my nausea, and took out the meat. It sat there obediently. Smooth surface. Feeling it in my hand, it reminded me of a raw meatball from the supermarket. But just as I was about to offer the bottle, the meat opened its eyes! The eyes took up almost its entire body. The pupils were slit and long, like a painted pattern. Disgusting and terrifying. I shuddered and instinctively let go. The meat seemed to hit the floor, and just as I apologized and bent to pick it up, the power went out! I fumbled in the dark to flip the breaker, but when the lights came back on, the meat was gone. “Dolly! Dolly, where are you? Auntie didn’t mean to drop you!” I called out several times with no response. When I bent down, I saw what looked like a smear of blood on the sole of my shoe. A bad feeling spread in my chest. No way. No way. I chanted internally as I slowly lifted my foot. In that moment, my blood ran cold. “Dolly” was stuck to the sole of my shoe. The shape was gone, mashed into a paste of blood and raw meat. It was completely crushed. And those slit eyes were flattened, printed onto the smooth floor, still staring straight at me. I had trampled Dolly to death. My mind went blank. My legs gave out, and I collapsed on the floor. 4 The summer night was stifling. Soon, the smell of blood filled the air. Like a zombie, I carried my slipper to the bathroom, scrubbed Dolly into the toilet, and mopped up the eye on the floor. Just as I finished, Lisa called. The ringtone sounded like a death knell, sharp and piercing. I picked up the phone nervously, hesitated for a long time, and finally pressed answer. Lisa’s cheerful voice came through: “Sis, is Dolly settling in okay? Can we video chat so I can see her?” Staring at the pile of meat in the toilet, I lied instinctively. “She… she’s asleep.” “Oh, okay. We’ll talk tomorrow then. You get some sleep too.” Lisa didn’t press further. Just as she was about to hang up, I stopped her, my heart pounding. “Wait! Can you… tell me the secret method? I have a friend who’s been trying to conceive for years. She wants to try it too!” My back was drenched in cold sweat. I knew I should tell the truth. But I also knew how important this child was to Lisa. If she knew I flattened her baby, she might actually kill me. The only way out was to use the next week to make another Dolly! Silence on the other end. My heart was in my throat, terrified she’d notice something wrong. Luckily, Lisa didn’t think much of it and agreed quickly. “Sure. I’ll send you the Master’s number. Just contact him.” The signal was bad; she had to repeat herself twice. I couldn’t help asking, “Where are you? Why is the signal so bad?” She sighed. “Mark called an hour ago saying he was in the basement parking garage, but he hasn’t come up yet. I came down to look for him.” As soon as she finished speaking, I heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by Lisa’s terrified scream. 5 My heart tightened. “What happened?!” The call cut off. I tried calling back, but it wouldn’t connect. I had a bad feeling, but I didn’t have time to guess. They were coming to pick up Dolly in a week. I was running out of time. Early the next morning, I contacted the so-called “Master.” He seemed to expect me and just gave me an address before hanging up. It was a remote mountain village. I drove all day. By evening, I finally saw the old red brick house from the address. I gathered my courage and knocked. After a few knocks, a wrinkled face appeared in the crack of the door. “Who are you looking for?” His voice sounded like broken bellows. His cloudy, gray eyes looked me up and down. “A friend sent me. I want the potion that makes meat babies.” I answered honestly. He paused for a moment, then said abruptly, “Didn’t you come last week?” I froze. He must have mistaken me for Lisa. We were sisters, and people always said we looked alike. That was why I dared to try this deception. A child made from my flesh should look similar enough to one made from hers. I didn’t explain. “There was an accident. I want to buy another bottle.” The old man looked at me for a moment, went inside, and came back with a bottle of pitch-black liquid. “$5,000 a bottle. Same instructions as before.” I quickly handed over the cash envelope but stopped him before he closed the door. “Um… what were the instructions again? I forgot. Can you tell me one more time?” 6 The old man sighed and came back, lowering his raspy voice: “When you get home, soak a towel in the potion and apply it to your stomach for five hours. When the area feels numb, you can cut the meat.” “After cutting, feed it blood for the first week. Once the mouth and teeth grow, you can feed it normal food.” “The smaller the child, the deeper the connection to the mother. Watch it constantly to prevent accidents that could harm the mother.” “Finally, if you notice the child growing faster than you, destroy it immediately. Or something terrible will happen!” I was confused. “What terrible thing?” The old man gave me a complicated look but didn’t answer directly. He just left me with one sentence. “You’ll know when the time comes.” Back in the car, staring at the black potion, that last sentence kept replaying in my head. Does that mean a child made this way might not stay with you forever? What’s the point of such a short companionship? But since Lisa had been here, she must have known the rules and accepted them. I pushed the thought aside and drove home. That night, I followed the instructions and cut a piece of flesh, nurturing it in a glass box. The next few days went smoothly. The meat ball grew day by day. Maybe because I fed it so often, it grew faster than I expected. But strangely, Lisa hadn’t called since that night. It was good for avoiding exposure, at least. A week passed. The meat ball had developed all facial features and even limbs. Looking closely, it had the shape of a human. And it looked just like Dolly.

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When I was a kid, playing deep in the old woods behind our house, I heard a scream. It didn’t sound like an animal. It sounded like a soul being torn apart. My dad grabbed me, dragging me toward the tree line. “Don’t look back! Just run!” “It’s coming out!” I asked him what was coming out. He shook his head, his face pale. “No one knows its name. Everyone who sees it dies.” Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks. I looked up and saw a pair of massive, pale hands covered in white fur resting on my dad’s shoulders. My dad screamed one last thing: “Run!” Then those hands dragged him backward into the darkness of the treeline. Twenty years later, I built a hunting team to go back into those woods. 1 “Everyone who sees it dies.” That voice, intimate yet terrifying, echoed in my ears. I spun around in the pitch-black space, trying to find the source. But there was nothing but a vortex of darkness, wrapping around my fear and grief, suffocating me. A familiar sensation crept up behind me. I turned and saw a massive hand dragging a silhouette into the abyss. I couldn’t see the face, but I saw the shoes. Blue and white Nikes. They stabbed into my heart like a knife. I ran forward, desperate. But the figure was dragged further away, disappearing into the void. I screamed for him not to leave me. The only answer was silence. I tried to chase him, but a piercing shriek froze me in place. “Run!” I stood paralyzed. In the endless dark ahead, two blood-red eyes snapped open. My heart spasmed violently. I felt like I was dying. Those red eyes got closer. A pale hand, covered in white fur, reached out from the shadows. I screamed, “No!” The next second, I jolted awake in my bed, my back drenched in cold sweat. It took minutes for the trembling to stop. That scene from when I was eight years old had haunted me for two-thirds of my life. Every few days, I dreamed of it. My dad’s last cry for help. For twenty years, I didn’t have the courage to face those woods. Even passing by a cluster of trees made me feel like those red eyes were watching, waiting for me to step in. It shouldn’t have been him. It should have been me. I spent twenty years researching what It was. Folklore varied. Some called it a Devil Monkey, others a Wendigo, or a Skinwalker. But like my dad said: “No one knows its name. Everyone who sees it dies.” No. That wasn’t entirely accurate. My dad traded his life for mine. I became the first person to see it and live. Records of the creature went back over a hundred years. A group of trappers went into the deep woods. Only the guy left at the base camp survived. He heard a scream, and then his friends’ heads were tossed out of the tree line. It became a local legend. Hunting parties were formed, but for decades, nothing was found. It vanished as if it never existed. Then, in the late 90s, it reappeared. A group of hikers. The guide went to take a leak, heard a scream, and came back to five bloody corpses. The forest rangers searched for two weeks and found nothing. The third time it appeared, it took my dad. I told the police, but they found no trace. But a plan had been brewing in my mind for twenty years. I got out of bed, stood by the window, and made a call. “Is the team ready?” “This time, it’s not getting away.” 2 “This is Sarge. That’s Dutch.” My best friend, Mike, introduced me to the two men. They were veteran hunters, ex-military. I paid a fortune to get them. They had survival skills that could keep them alive in hell. They only agreed when I put fifty grand on the table. The woods were a remote branch of the Appalachian Mountains. Rarely visited, except by a few locals living off the grid. My dad had taken me there for a distant relative’s funeral all those years ago. It took us a full day of travel to reach the village on the edge of the forest. The old village head welcomed us, but when he heard what we were after, he turned pale. “Son, listen to me. Don’t go in there.” “That thing takes lives. Everyone who sees it dies.” My voice was low. “I know you mean well, Uncle. But I have to go. I saw it when I was a kid. It took my father.” The old man paused, frowning deeply. “Son, leave now. That thing… it can smell you. It might come down the mountain tonight just to finish the job.” That was a new detail. Inside his cabin, the village head told us what he knew. No one knew exactly what it was. It looked like an ape, but its scream was unearthly. Its bite force was stronger than a bear or a tiger. People found in the past had their skulls crushed. It usually stayed dormant unless something woke it up. But again, no survivors meant no details. As for the smell? A few years ago, a group of poachers went up in winter, looking for easy fur. They heard the scream. They tried to retreat, but one by one, they were picked off. Only one old poacher made it down. He claimed he saw it—huge, pale hands. Hands strong enough to snap a neck like a twig. He thought he was safe. The next morning, the villagers found a hole in his roof. The poacher was gone. They found him that afternoon by a creek. His head was crushed. Giant prints surrounded the body. Rumor had it the creature fled because the police brought heavy firepower. Sarge and Dutch exchanged a look. “This thing sounds supernatural.” I looked at them. “You can back out now. I won’t force you.” Sarge shook his head. “I’m in. My mom needs surgery, and this money saves her.” Dutch shrugged. “I need the cash for my wedding. I’m in.” Seeing he couldn’t stop us, the village head went to his shed and came back with two sticks of old mining explosives. “Leftover from when they blasted the road years ago. Don’t know if they still work, but take ’em. If you can kill that thing, we can all sleep easier.” I thanked him. That night, the creature didn’t come for me. But none of us slept well. The next morning, under a heavy fog, we stepped into the woods. 3 “Fog’s thick. Stay close,” Sarge ordered, taking point. “Don’t get more than ten feet apart.” Dutch took the rear, armed with a compound crossbow and two combat knives. If something jumped us, the crossbow was silent and deadly. Mike and I were in the middle, carrying jagged triangular bayonets—military surplus. Nasty things. One stab leaves a wound that doesn’t close. We walked for ten minutes. The fog got thicker. The forest was dead silent. It felt like walking into the mouth of a sleeping beast. Sarge slowed down, tightening the formation. Nothing happened for the first half-hour. We found a clearing to rest. Sarge looked around, frowning. “Something’s wrong. This place… it ain’t right.” Dutch nodded. Mike and I were confused. We were street fighters, not woodsmen. Sarge explained. “A forest this deep shouldn’t be this quiet. Birds, bugs, small game… there should be noise. Deer, boars, badgers—they aren’t usually this scared of humans because nobody comes out here.” “But it’s dead silent. That usually means one of two things.” “One: A natural disaster is coming. Fire, flood, quake. Animals sense it and bolt.” “Two: This is the territory of an apex predator. Something so terrifying that everything else cleared out.” We all leaned toward option two. It meant It was nearby. We sat back-to-back, weapons drawn, listening. Usually, a predator would have attacked by now. A tiger or bear would smell us entering their turf immediately. The fact that we hadn’t been attacked yet was unnerving. It meant the thing was smart. Cunning. After a while, we moved on. As we approached a creek, Sarge stopped again. Still silent. No animals drinking. That was terrifying. It meant this thing was the absolute ruler here. Nothing dared to even take a sip of water. Sarge bent down, examining something on the ground. It was a shard of bone. But it looked carved. Like a knife. Why would a bone knife be this deep in the woods? 4 “What the hell?!” Mike screamed. We spun around to see him hanging upside down in the air. A snare trap. Hidden perfectly in the leaves. I rushed forward with my knife to cut him down. “Wait!” Dutch hissed. “We’ve got company.” I looked around. Figures emerged from the mist. Men painted in camouflage made of mud and crushed plants. They stared at us with hostile eyes. Their voices were guttural, their English broken and archaic. “Leave. You. Go.” “Not welcome.” I froze. What year was this? Sarge stepped forward, speaking a few words in a dialect I didn’t recognize. Their expressions softened slightly. “Mountain folk,” Sarge whispered to us. “They live off the grid. Old ways.” They weren’t cavemen, just isolated. They traded furs occasionally but kept to themselves. Their camouflage was so good we hadn’t seen them until they moved. There were only about five of them. Probably all the men of their small clan. Sarge spoke to them for a moment, then turned back to us, looking grim. “We have to go. They’re kicking us out. They say the ‘Old One’ told them to catch us.” My head spun. The thing gives orders to humans? It made sense in a twisted way. If they lived here, they had to coexist with it. We cut Mike down and retreated to the edge of their territory, herded by their spears and bone knives. Once we were clear, they vanished back into the foliage. Sarge looked at me. “Boss… they don’t call it a beast. They call it ‘Abaha’.” “Like a god?” I asked. “Yeah. The Mountain God. The Supreme Spirit.” Sarge explained. In these mountains, the old folklore runs deep. Abaha isn’t just a monster; it’s a totem. A deity. To them, its orders are divine law. But Sarge added, “Tribes often call powerful creatures manifestations of gods. A massive tiger might be called the Mountain Lord. Doesn’t mean it’s magic. Just means it’s top of the food chain.” I frowned. “So we can’t hunt it?” Sarge pointed to a ridge in the distance. “We circle around their territory. Over there. We lure the Abaha out. Then we kill it.”

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I accidentally stepped on my sister’s baby and crushed it. They say a child is a piece of a mother’s own flesh. To make it up to her, I cut a piece of flesh from my own stomach and gave it to my sister. Less than a week later, the lump of meat suddenly came alive. It grew eyes and a nose, and even opened its mouth to call me “Mom.” 1 It all started a month ago. My sister, Lisa, had been married for years and tried every method under the sun to get pregnant, but nothing worked. With her thirtieth birthday approaching, our mom suggested she try IVF. But on her birthday, Lisa suddenly announced she had a child. The whole family was stunned. Leaving aside that no one knew about such a huge event, don’t you need to be pregnant to have a child? Her stomach had been flat all year. How did she suddenly have a child? Lisa shook her head mysteriously and brought out a thermal box from her room. The box was about the size of a hamster cage, lined with gauze and cotton. In the middle lay a fleshy ball about the size of a palm. Lisa gently tapped the box, her voice tender: “Dolly, Grandma and Auntie are here to see you!” Mom and I exchanged glances; we both clearly thought she was talking nonsense. But the next second, the meatball suddenly moved, inching toward the glass lid. Looking closely, I realized there were two slits on the meatball that opened slightly. They looked exactly like eyes, staring straight at us. I screamed, nearly falling off my chair. Lisa laughed, quickly took the meatball out, held it in her hands, and presented it to us like a treasure. “Mom, Sis, look! Isn’t Dolly cute?” Mom was terrified, covering her mouth with trembling hands: “Lisa… don’t scare Mom like this…” 2 Lisa’s face darkened instantly, and she got angry. “Mom, what do you mean? Do you think I’m crazy?” Mom didn’t answer, just silently wiped away tears. Lisa turned to me. “Sis, do you think so too?” Before I could speak, she put the meatball back in the box and sat back down with a cold face. “I know you don’t believe me, but I paid a lot of money for this method!” Lisa told us this was a secret folk ritual. You just need to cut a piece of flesh from your stomach and feed it with fresh blood. The meatball will gradually grow into the shape of a child, looking exactly like you. “You know how much I’ve suffered trying to get pregnant all these years. Now that I finally have a child, I’ll accept her even if she’s a monster!” As Lisa spoke, she couldn’t help but shed tears. Seeing this, the meatball actually pushed open the lid and jumped out, excitedly trying to wipe Lisa’s tears while constantly calling out “Mom.” Mom and I watched this scene, completely dumbfounded. We swallowed our words. Mom sighed, pulled me aside, and ultimately didn’t stop her. As her sister, I couldn’t intervene either, so I let her be. But after dinner, Lisa stopped me alone. “Sis, my husband Mark is coming back tonight. I’m afraid he won’t accept this child right away. Can you help me take care of her for a while?” Mark was a traditional man. Years of infertility had cooled their relationship. Since Lisa didn’t work and had no financial control, she was always cautious around Mark. Seeing my hesitation, she quickly held up a finger. “I calculated it. In just one more week, this child will grow into a normal baby. I’ll take her back then!” “Sis, for the sake of my family, please help me!” 3 I eventually softened and agreed to Lisa’s request. I took the meatball home. According to the instructions, I had to feed her every night before bed. I put the fresh blood Lisa had prepared into a baby bottle, fought back my nausea, and took out the meatball. It stayed still obediently. Its surface was smooth. Holding it felt a bit like holding a raw beef meatball from the supermarket. But just as I was about to offer the bottle, the meatball suddenly opened its eyes! Its eyes took up almost its entire body. The pupils were long and slit-like, resembling a painted pattern. It was disgusting and terrifying. I shuddered in fear and instinctively let go. The meatball seemed to fall to the ground. I hurriedly apologized and prepared to pick it up, but suddenly the power went out! I fumbled to flip the circuit breaker back on, but when the lights came on, the meatball was gone. “Dolly! Dolly, where did you go? Auntie didn’t mean to let go!” I called out several times with no response. When I bent down, I saw what looked like a smear of blood on the sole of my shoe. A bad premonition spread from my heart. No way. No way. I chanted silently, slowly lifting my foot. In that moment, I felt my blood freeze. “Dolly” was stuck to the sole of my shoe. The shape of the meatball was gone. Blood and mashed flesh had exploded, completely crushed into bits. And those long, slit eyes were flattened and printed onto the smooth floor, still staring straight at me. I had trampled Dolly to death. My mind went blank. My body went limp, and I collapsed onto the floor. 4 The summer night was stifling. Before long, the smell of blood wafted out. Like a walking corpse, I took my slipper to the bathroom, scrubbed Dolly into the toilet with a brush, and then mopped up the eye on the floor. Just as I finished, Lisa called. The ringtone sounded like a death knell, sharp and piercing. I picked up the phone nervously, hesitated for a long time, and finally pressed answer. Lisa’s cheerful voice came from the other end: “Sis, is Dolly settling in okay? Can we video chat so I can see her?” Staring at the pile of rotten meat in the toilet, I lied instinctively. “She… she’s asleep.” “Oh, okay. We’ll talk tomorrow then. You get some sleep too.” Lisa didn’t ask more. Just as she was about to hang up, I steeled myself and stopped her. “Wait… can you tell me that secret method? I have a friend who hasn’t been able to conceive for years. She wants to try it too!” After saying this, my back was drenched in cold sweat. I knew I should tell the truth. But I also knew how important this child was to Lisa. If she knew I flattened her child, she might really kill me. The only way now was to use this week to make another Dolly using the same method! Silence on the other end. My heart was in my throat, terrified she’d notice something. Luckily, Lisa didn’t think much of it and agreed quickly. “Sure. I’ll give you the Master’s number. Just contact him.” The voice on the other end was intermittent. I had to ask twice to hear clearly. I couldn’t help asking: “Where are you? Why is the signal so bad?” She sighed: “It’s Mark. He called an hour ago saying he was in the basement, but he still hasn’t come up. I came down to find him.” As soon as she finished speaking, I heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by Lisa’s terrified scream. 5 My heart tightened. “What happened?!” The call cut off. I tried calling back, but it wouldn’t connect. I had a bad feeling, but I didn’t have time to speculate. They were coming to pick up Dolly in a week. I was running out of time. Early the next morning, I contacted the so-called “Master.” He seemed to expect me, just giving me an address before hanging up. It was a remote mountain village. I drove all day. By evening, I finally saw the old red-tiled house from the address. I gathered my courage and knocked. After a few knocks, a wrinkled face appeared in the crack of the door. “Who are you looking for?” His voice sounded like broken bellows. As he spoke, his cloudy, gray eyes looked me up and down. “A friend sent me. I want the potion that makes meat babies.” I answered truthfully. He paused for a moment, then said abruptly: “Didn’t you come last week?” I froze. He must have mistaken me for my sister, Lisa. We were biological sisters, and people always said we looked alike since childhood. That was why I dared to try this deception. A child made from sisters should look similar. I didn’t explain. “There was an accident. I want to buy another bottle.” The old man looked at me for a moment, went inside, and handed out a bottle of pitch-black liquid. “$5,000 a bottle. Same instructions as before.” I quickly took out the prepared red envelope but stopped him before he closed the door. “Um… what were the instructions again? I forgot. Can you tell me one more time?”

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