For three years, I was the perfect girlfriend to Julian. I never checked his phone, never cared how many “female friends” he entertained, and never fought with him no matter how late he stayed out partying. Julian was proud of this. He bragged to his boys about how much I loved him. Until one day, he accidentally stumbled upon an old, private social media account dedicated to my first love. Back then, I was petty, jealous, and completely emotionally unstable. In one video, my first love laughed helplessly and asked: “Why do you have such a temper?” I answered righteously: “I only get mad because I love you. If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t give a damn.” Julian froze. 1. When I bumped into Julian at the club, a girl in a spaghetti strap top and hot pants was sitting on his lap. Her pale, slender arms were wrapped around his neck, and her lips, coated in glittery gloss, were curved into a flirtatious smile as she leaned in close. The married guys in the VIP booth were already standing up, apologizing to Julian with awkward smiles. “Sorry, Julian, gotta bounce. The wife’s on patrol tonight. She’s called like five times already. If I don’t get home now, I’m sleeping on the couch.” Julian let the girl pluck the cigarette from his mouth and put it in her own. He scoffed. “Useless. All of you, whipped by women.” The single guys started jeering. “That’s why Julian’s the king. Doesn’t matter what time he gets home, the wifey never checks up on him. Teach us your ways, bro! How do you train them like that?” The girl in his arms giggled, pressing her chest against him. “Yeah, Julian. Aren’t you afraid your girlfriend will see us like this and get mad?” Julian played with her hair, a smug look crossing his face. “She loves me to death. Whatever I say goes. We’ve been together three years, and she hasn’t started a single fight.” “Damn! Legend!” The guys laughed, envious. “Julian plays around all these years and she doesn’t say a word? That’s a real man right there—” His sentence cut off abruptly. He saw me standing nearby, expressionless. Julian saw me too. He didn’t look flustered at all. He just pushed the girl off his lap, raised an eyebrow, and waved me over. “When did you get here?” I paused, then walked over. My voice was calm. “Just got here. With friends.” The girl who was pushed away looked sour. She looked me up and down and forced a smile. “Hi, Chloe.” Only when I got closer did I recognize her. It was Mia, the new secretary at Julian’s company. Just a fresh grad from a state college. Julian had personally hired her after seeing her photo on her resume. Didn’t think he’d get his hands on her this fast. I ignored her. Julian looked like he’d had quite a few. His beautiful peach-blossom eyes were watery and dangerously attractive under the dim lights. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me close. “Didn’t even tell me you were coming out. Give me a kiss.” He leaned toward the corner of my mouth. I instinctively dodged. I didn’t know if he’d kissed Mia just now. I felt gross. Julian’s expression changed. The smile vanished from his lips. Even though he was the one sitting, he looked at me with a gaze that felt condescending. “Chloe, what’s that mean?” I turned my head slightly and said softly, “You’re drunk.” “You disgusted by me?” Maybe because I embarrassed him in front of his friends, Julian’s eyes turned cold. He suddenly grabbed Mia, pulled her back onto his lap, and pressed his hand against the back of her head. Mia looked delighted and accepted his kiss obediently. Just like that, right in front of me, they exchanged a wet, deep kiss. When Mia pulled away gasping ten seconds later, a thin silver thread of saliva connected their lips. She looked at me, a triumphant smirk on her face. Julian looked at me provocatively. His friends went silent, their eyes fixed on me. No woman could tolerate her boyfriend making out with another woman right in front of her. They probably thought I was finally going to snap. I just looked Julian in the eye and said indifferently, “You’re drunk. I’m leaving.” As I walked away, I heard his friends gasping in amazement. “Damn, Chloe is so chill. She’s not even mad!” “Julian really has her trained. She’s probably terrified of getting dumped.” “That’s true love right there. I heard she chased Julian for a whole year back in the day. Obedient as a dog. Deeply in love!” Julian laughed, a sound full of contempt. “She can’t leave me. She doesn’t dare get mad.” The winter air was sharp as a knife. It had started snowing outside without me noticing. The flakes drifted down, dyed red by taillights one moment, yellow by streetlamps the next. I tightened my scarf, leaned against a wall, and lit a cigarette. The menthol smoke mixed with the cold air, stinging my lungs as I inhaled. This was my first love’s favorite brand. Back when we were together, I used to pester him to let me try. He’d scold me every time: “Chloe, are you crazy? If I catch you smoking, I’ll break your legs!” The day we broke up, I bought a pack myself. I coughed while I smoked. After that, no one was there to stop me, so I learned. I rarely smoke these years. But sometimes, when the emotions hit, I can’t control it. Watching Julian kiss someone else didn’t make me angry. Because I don’t love him at all. 2. Getting together with Julian started with me chasing him. The first time I saw Julian was at the opening of a new bar. He was there as an investor. The table in front of him was full of expensive bottles, and the beauties around him were giggling at his jokes. That face attracted the gaze of every girl in the room. I remember a lot of people went to ask for his WeChat. I went too. Lots of people liked Julian, but I was the one who persisted the longest. For a year, I was at his beck and call. One word from him, and I’d appear in front of him no matter how far away I was. Julian’s playboy reputation was legendary in our circle. He never had a shortage of women. Even if he had just finished hooking up with someone else, I’d pick him up with a single phone call. I asked nothing, said nothing, just made him hangover soup. Everyone thought I loved him to the bone. They said the Zhong family was embarrassing—going bankrupt was bad enough, but their only daughter was so bewitched by the He family’s youngest son that she was willing to be his doormat. The catalyst for us getting together was a night we both got drunk and confusedly rolled into the same bed. I only remember Julian was very rough that night. I cried a lot, holding onto him and sobbing. The next morning, Julian looked at the marks on my body and my swollen eyes. Maybe he felt a rare pang of softness. He lit a cigarette and asked casually: “Do you want to be with me?” “Let’s get one thing straight,” he said, biting the cigarette filter. “Don’t try to control me. I hate women who manage me.” I stared at the duvet on my chest for a while, then said: “Okay.” Julian always thought I was crying tears of joy that night. He didn’t know that day was my first love’s birthday. His profile looked so much like him. At the party earlier, I spotted him in the crowd instantly. In the dim light that night, for a moment, I felt like he had returned to me. … I was with Xavier from the time I was seventeen until we broke up when I was twenty-five. Almost ten years. He was the only scholarship student at our private high school, recruited for his grades. I heard his family used to be well-off, but his father was backstabbed by a business partner. After going bankrupt, his father couldn’t take the blow and committed suicide. His mother, already in poor health, died of depression soon after. Overnight, he went from a pampered young master to a destitute orphan. But Xavier bounced back fast. He was never humble nor arrogant. Even in a private school full of rich kids, he maintained the top grades and was voted Student Council President. Who wouldn’t like someone like him? I confessed to him many times and got rejected every time. But I never gave up. I kept liking him. Many girls liked him, but they all gave up after his rejections. Only I persevered. Finally, on the eve of graduation, when I confessed for the sixth time, Xavier sighed helplessly and asked: “What exactly do you like about me?” My face flushed. Tears welled in my eyes as I looked at him stubbornly. I didn’t know if I was angry or sad. I just knew I liked Xavier. There was no why. Sometimes, liking someone doesn’t need a reason. “I just like you! I like everything about you!” Xavier looked complicated. After a long time, he whispered: “But I have nothing. I can’t give you anything. Do you still like me like that?” I shouted: “Yes! Xavier, even though I like you, I have limits too! If you don’t say yes this time, I’m never asking you again!” Xavier looked at me for a long time, then let out a long breath, like he was resigned, or maybe surrendering. After a while, he gently hugged me. “What a dummy.” My eyes widened. My heart skipped a beat, then started pounding violently. That was the first time I knew what euphoria felt like. It turns out when people are happy, fireworks really do go off in their hearts. After that, Xavier and I were together. He had great grades; mine weren’t as good. To be with me, he skipped two major questions on the college entrance exam just to get into the same university as me. When I found out, I cried like a baby. He just held me and laughed. “Dummy, why are you crying? College is college. Don’t worry, I won’t let you suffer in the future.” He didn’t make empty promises. Xavier started his own business in his sophomore year. He opened a company with friends and made his first bucket of gold. By graduation, he had already bought a large flat in the city center, decorated in my favorite style, intending it to be our marital home. Everything was going smoothly. Our future plans only included each other. Neither of us doubted we would make it to the end. Until after graduation, when I took him home to meet my parents. Then I saw my dad’s face change dramatically. Xavier swayed on his feet, his face turning pale inch by inch. Later I learned that my dad was the partner who backstabbed Xavier’s father, causing his family’s ruin. Life is absurd like that. Because my dad was always away on business, Xavier had never seen him before. None of us predicted this possibility. That day, my dad asked my mom and me to leave the room so he could talk to Xavier alone. Not long after, Xavier left without saying goodbye. He went abroad. He didn’t leave me a single word. The person who would cross half of China just because I said I missed him, who promised to love me forever, who knelt on one knee with red eyes asking me to marry him, saying he finally had a home with me… he abandoned me just like that. And I couldn’t even hate him. Because my dad ruined him. Who wouldn’t hate that? If it were me, I’d hate it too. Maybe it was karma. After that, my dad’s investments failed, he committed suicide, and my family went bankrupt. But Xavier thrived abroad. He had a great eye for investment and rode the wave. In just a few years, his company rang the bell at Nasdaq, and he became a famous tech mogul. The tables turned. We had no contact. And we couldn’t possibly have any contact. So when I saw Julian, I felt my dead heart beat again after a long time. For me, does it matter who I’m with? Julian looks so much like Xavier. For me, that’s already a gift from heaven. For that face, I was obedient to him for years, always on call. I was always there when he needed me. No matter how late he was out, one call and I’d get out of bed to pick him up from another woman. He didn’t remember my birthday or our anniversary. Even on my birthday, he didn’t come home, playing around outside with new girls. Julian was a famous playboy. He knew how to play and loved to play. He changed women faster than clothes. I knew his reputation before my family went bankrupt. After getting together with me, he didn’t restrain himself at all. Several times, girls came directly to me to cause trouble. I could tell he wanted to break up with me several times, using these incidents as an excuse, but I never got jealous, never made a scene. Over time, he got used to my presence. He and his friends thought I loved him to the bone, loved him too humbly. Actually, I really just didn’t care. I just wanted to see that face in my dreams occasionally. Imagining Xavier was still by my side. Relying on this, I could keep going. 3. It was Julian’s friend’s birthday. He called everyone in the circle for dinner. Everyone brought a plus-one, so Julian brought me. But I didn’t expect Mia to be there too. She naturally sat next to Julian. And she asked me: “Chloe, you don’t mind if I sit here, right?” Julian looked at me. I didn’t make a sound. His smile faded. He sneered and put his arm around Mia. Mia seemed to really like Julian. Throughout the meal, she toasted him frequently, whispering things to him, occasionally laughing at his jokes and leaning on him. I wasn’t angry at all. I sat quietly on the side, eating. One of Julian’s friends tsk-tsked enviously and said to his girlfriend: “Look how generous she is. Unlike you, getting jealous over every little thing. Learn from her!” His girlfriend was drunk. She scoffed: “I care because I like you! If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t give a damn!” Maybe it was a coincidence, but after she said that, the whole room went quiet. Julian clearly heard it too. The smile was still on his face, but the hand holding his glass tightened until his veins popped. His friend froze, then quickly apologized with a smile: “My girl drank too much. Sorry, Julian, she didn’t mean it.” His girlfriend started apologizing too. Julian didn’t say anything. His gaze fell on me. I turned my head, avoiding his eyes. He suddenly asked me: “You aren’t angry at all?” “What is there to be angry about?” I was confused. “Isn’t this the freedom you wanted?” I get to see this face all the time. And he gets the freedom he wants. Each takes what they need. What’s wrong with that? After all, when Julian agreed to be with me, he warned me not to control him. He’s never stopped seeing women all these years. I thought this was the dynamic he liked. Julian seemed unhappy. He got closer to Mia. She was practically sitting on his lap. They French-kissed right in front of me. Completely disregarding me, his girlfriend. Others were used to it. A few looked at me with pity. I scrolled through my phone photos to kill time, waiting for it to end so I could go home. After a few rounds of drinks, Mia got bold. Maybe she finally couldn’t resist wanting to take the main spot. She looked me over and nitpicked: “Using an iPhone 12 in this day and age? How retro.” I ignored her, but she got more excited. “I forgot what an iPhone 12 looked like. It’s an antique, right? I’m actually curious. Sister, show me your phone?” “No.” I gripped my phone tight. “Julian~ Let me see Chloe’s phone. It’s just a phone, what’s there to hide?” Seeing I didn’t speak, Julian frowned: “She wants to see it, just show her.” “No.” I refused again. “Julian~” Mia acted coquettish, holding his arm. Maybe feeling embarrassed by my rejection, Julian’s face went cold. He reached out his hand: “Phone.” I didn’t say a word. “What’s in the phone?” Mia added fuel to the fire. “Something shameful?” Julian’s eyes darkened. He came over to grab my phone directly. “What are you doing?!” I was startled. In the struggle, the phone fell. I instinctively pushed Julian away to catch it. His lower back hit the corner of the table. He grunted in pain and cursed me: “Are you crazy, Chloe?! It’s just a broken phone. If it breaks, I’ll buy you a new one—” The next second, he looked at the video playing on the screen, and all his words stopped abruptly. The video I had just been watching was playing again. It was from when I was still with Xavier. I was lying on his back. I didn’t know he was recording me. I was pouting and scolding him. “Why did you talk so much to that girl today?!” Xavier laughed helplessly: “She’s the Vice President of the Student Council. We were talking about business. You, seriously, how are you such a vinegar jar (jealous person) every day?” I got angrier: “I get jealous because I like you! If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t care if you died!” Xavier laughed and hoisted me up higher. “Okay, okay, you like me. I should be happy, right?” I poked him while lying on his back: “From now on, you’re not allowed to talk to other women, not allowed to add other women on WeChat, not allowed to like anyone else!” “Okay, I’ll listen to you. Where did you get such a bad temper…” The video continued. I picked up the phone and turned it off. Julian held his pose, motionless. No one expected things to develop like this. It went quiet. Eyes fell on us. The next second, Julian suddenly snatched the phone and smashed it onto the ground! Crack! Instinctively, I slapped Julian across the face and bent down frantically to pick up the phone. This was the last memory Xavier left me. The phone was shattered beyond recognition. The screen went completely black. I grabbed the phone, then realized what happened. I turned to look at Julian. That slap wasn’t very hard. But Julian froze. He didn’t even cover his face. He just stood there staring at me blankly, looking confused, like he didn’t know me anymore. Everyone was shocked. No one dared to make a sound. You could hear a pin drop. I regretted it a little, but inexplicably felt relieved. Actually, I didn’t mean to hit Julian. It was just a reflex. At this point, I knew it was impossible with Julian. I picked up my bag and left. As I walked out the door, I sent Julian one last message. “Let’s break up.” 4. I walked aimlessly on the street, but suddenly saw a familiar back at the corner! In that instant, the sound of traffic vanished. I only heard my heart stop for a beat, then thunder in my chest! That back looked so much like Xavier. But when I rushed over, he had disappeared into the crowd, nowhere to be found. I stood there lost for a while, until a car honked behind me, urging me to move. I turned away blankly. This winter seemed to have an unusual amount of snow. After sitting in the park for a while, I felt a slight coolness on my eyelashes. I realized belatedly that everything around me was white. I curled up slowly, not wanting to leave. I didn’t know where to go. After my dad died, my mom remarried quickly and went abroad. I had no home. Xavier once gave me a home, then left me alone. With Julian? That wasn’t a home. I had places to stay, but no home to return to. Wetness streamed down my cheeks. I wiped it gently and was about to get up when a shadow fell over me. I thought Julian had come out to find me. But when I looked up, my breath stopped instantly. The face that had appeared in my dreams countless times crossed the boundary between fantasy and reality, appearing right before my eyes. And I couldn’t tell dream from reality. My fingers trembled, but I didn’t dare touch him. Xavier had snow in his eyes, slowly melting. For a moment, I thought the him from my memories, the one who loved me, had returned. He said gently: “I’m back.” … I forgot how I got back to Xavier’s place. I only remember I kept crying, clinging to him tightly, refusing to come down. Until he helplessly held me on the bed, patting my back. “Stop crying. I’m not running away. You’ll get a headache if you cry anymore.” I couldn’t even speak properly. I looked up, sobbing intermittently: “When did you come back?” “A few months ago.” I paused, then cried louder: “Then why did you only find me now?!” Xavier lowered his eyes. There was a complexity in them I couldn’t understand. “I heard you were in a relationship. I didn’t know if I should disturb you.” “Then why did you come?” “Couldn’t help it.” He seemed to finally admit defeat: “I can’t forget you, Chloe. I can’t let you go. “I missed you so much it hurt. I surrender. I have no choice.” My hand paused. I sat up. Xavier leaned down. In the cold winter night, with snow falling heavily, this long-overdue kiss was scorching hot. Neither of us spoke again. We had been together too long; even our tacit understanding was too perfect. No one needed to say anything more. We didn’t even have a moment of unfamiliarity. We knew each other’s bodies too well. It had nothing to do with lust, only longing and possession. When I frowned, I held him almost in panic, afraid this was just a dream. Then I found he held me even tighter. In the trembling that bordered on pain, we finally confirmed each other’s existence again. When I woke up, the sky was bright. Snow was still falling outside the window. Dark clouds pressed low, making everything hazy. The bed beside me was empty. I was startled. I clutched my chest and stumbled up. Just as I was about to go out, I bumped into Xavier coming back. The light in the room was dim. His sculpted features were shadowed. Maybe because the exercise was too intense, his M-shaped lips were flushed red, impossibly handsome. I breathed a sigh of relief and grabbed his forearm. “I thought…” Thought I was dreaming. In the years apart, I had too many dreams about him. But the happier the dream, the more lost I felt upon waking. Leaning into his arms for a long time, I finally summoned the courage: “Are you leaving again this time? About my dad…” Xavier rested his chin on my head. After a long silence, he finally spoke: “Back then, I couldn’t accept it immediately. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t know what to do. I really hated him, and consequently, I couldn’t help but hate you too. All these years abroad, I hated you while loving you. I was going crazy. I saw a psychiatrist, but I couldn’t help it. “I kept dreaming of you,” he held my hand, his voice soft. “I dreamed of you crying and asking me, ‘Xavier, why don’t you want me anymore?’ My heart hurt so much. I’d wake up and smoke all night. I didn’t know what to do. Chloe, what could I do?” “Later, I slowly figured it out. Your dad is your dad, you are you. What your dad did has nothing to do with you. And now your dad is gone too. I’m willing to let it go. Let’s start over, okay?” He slowly tightened his embrace: “I’m not leaving. Never leaving again. That old apartment was bad memories. I bought a new house. Let’s decorate it from scratch, okay?” My vision blurred with tears. I hugged his arm tight. “Okay.” The sun broke through the clouds. The snow stopped sometime ago. My sky finally brightened.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386434”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My mother was terrified I’d waste money in college, so she set my parental control debit card to a transaction limit of exactly fifty cents. If I wanted to buy a $12 breakfast burrito from a food truck, I had to stand at the window and swipe my card twenty-four times. “Mom, this is incredibly inconvenient.” “Sweetie, I’m doing this for your own good. It’s to break your bad habit of spending money. Who spends like you do? If you act like this, your future mother-in-law will say I raised you with no manners.” “But Mom, I hold up the line every single day just to buy lunch.” “Standing longer is good for your health. Besides, everyone struggles in college. I treat you well enough. The problem is you’re buying expensive things. And Penny, talking back to your mother is disrespectful.” Protest was futile. I went back to my days of hunger and humiliation. Until one day, a sports car nearly killed me, and the settlement check was for five million dollars. 1 “Are you done yet? There’s a huge line behind you. How many more times do you have to tap that thing?” I felt like an ant on a hot skillet, repeatedly tapping my phone against the food truck’s square reader. Beep. Transaction Approved: $0.50. Beep. Transaction Approved: $0.50. Beep. Transaction Approved: $0.50. The robotic voice of the payment terminal echoed my embarrassment over and over. Passersby stopped to stare. “Dude, cancel my order. If I wait for her to finish, I’m gonna be late for class,” a guy behind me groaned. The crowd chimed in immediately. “Yeah, forget it. I’m out.” “This is ridiculous.” The complaints grew louder. The food truck owner looked panicked, trying to calm everyone down. “Miss, how much longer?” Just then, my old, beat-up phone froze. I frantically swiped the screen, but it was stuck on the processing wheel. Transaction Failed. Please Try Again. The error message hit me like a bucket of ice water. I lowered my head, face burning. “Let them go first,” I whispered. “About time,” someone scoffed. “Some people think their time is the only time that matters.” “I’m never eating here again,” another muttered. The owner forced a smile at the departing customers, but when he looked at me, his expression was dark. Once the line cleared, I pulled out my phone again. Beep. Transaction Approved: $0.50… That sound, the soundtrack of my nightmare, rang out again. Finally, after the last swipe, I thought, At least I get to eat. “Don’t come back here,” the owner said, handing me the cold burrito. “I’m trying to run a business. You’re driving away my customers.” He looked at me like I was trash. I walked away, head down. “Transaction Approved: $0.50.” Usually, that final beep meant relief. Today, it just sounded like mockery. I was late for my lecture. I slipped into the back row, but I could hear the whispers. “That’s her. The girl who swiped her card twenty-four times for a burrito.” “For real? Who does that?” “I was there. It was painful.” “She’s already on the campus ‘Confessions’ page. Someone filmed her.” “Does she know?” “Does that cavewoman even know what Instagram is?” Laughter rippled through the room. The burrito in my hand was ice cold. I kept my head down, picking at my ragged, bitten fingernails. 2 I went back to the dorm, depressed, and ate the cold burrito. It tasted like sawdust. My phone had been ringing for a while, but I didn’t notice until I finished eating. It was Mom. I called her back multiple times. User Busy. I knew the drill. She was punishing me for missing her call. Exhausted, I figured she’d get over it and crawled into bed. Around 2:00 AM, I woke up with a start. A warm, damp sensation. I panicked, digging through my suitcase until I found the very last pad hidden in a side pocket. Seeing it gave me a tiny bit of relief. Trying not to wake my roommates, I tiptoed to the bathroom. When I pulled down my pants, I almost fainted. It was a massacre. Old blood, new blood—a heavy, crimson mess. I panted, cleaning myself up and changing my underwear. I couldn’t sleep after that. The cramps came in waves, getting sharper and heavier each time. My flow was so heavy that the single regular pad I had was already struggling. When the sun finally came up, I grabbed my laggy phone and ran to the campus convenience store. I grabbed a pack of pads and a bottle of Ibuprofen. Total: $36. That meant 72 transactions. The shame of yesterday weighed on me, but the store was empty. I asked the cashier, an older lady, if I could pay in fifty-cent increments. She looked confused but nodded kindly. Her smile made me want to cry. I went to pay the first fifty cents. Transaction Declined. I tried again. And again. My hands shook as I checked the banking app. The primary account holder has disabled this card. Panic set in. Mom was still mad. If I just apologized, she’d turn it back on. I called. No answer. The pain forced me into a squat on the linoleum floor. I curled into a ball, trying to breathe through the cramps and the suffocating fear. “Honey, are you okay?” the cashier asked. Her concern broke me. Just then, the phone connected. “Hello?” “Mom, it’s me,” I gasped. “Can you Zelle me $36? Or turn the card back on? I need pads and medicine.” Silence on the other end. “Mom? I can tap it fifty cents at a time, I don’t mind…” Then came the roar. 3 “Oh, it’s you. Who else calls just to beg for money?” “Go ask around! Who else has a daughter like you? I raised you, fed you, clothed you, and you’re just a bottomless pit! I saw the transaction log yesterday. A bowl of oatmeal is $2. That’s four swipes. But no, you had to go live it up and swipe 24 times? What did you buy? Gold?” “And now you need medicine? I never took painkillers in my life. You’re just trying to scam money to go party, aren’t you?” The accusations were like physical blows. I choked back a sob. “Mom, okay, just the pads then. They’re $15. Please.” “How are you ever going to find a husband spending money like this? I raised you so you could marry well, get a big bride price, and buy your brother a house. With your spending habits, who will want you? In my day, we used rags!” She paused. “Fine. Write a contract. Kneel down, write it out, send me a photo, and I’ll transfer the money.” People were starting to come into the store. I had no choice. I begged the cashier for a pen and paper and knelt on the floor, clutching my stomach. 1. I will always listen to Mom. 2. When I marry, all financial gifts go to my brother. 3. … 999. … I wrote until my hand cramped, fighting the pain in my uterus. When I looked up, I saw phones pointing at me. I knew I was going to be famous on campus again. Ding. You received $5.00. “That’s five times your allowance. Buy some tissues and make do,” Mom said, and hung up. Something inside me shattered. I knelt there, too exhausted to stand. The paper was filled with tiny words, a manifesto of my enslavement. “I don’t want them,” I whispered to the cashier. I walked back to the dorm bent over like an old woman. I could feel the chafing, the wetness. It felt like bugs crawling on my skin. “Sarah, can I borrow a pad? I’ll pay you back.” “No.” Sarah, who had just been laughing with our other roommates, turned cold instantly. “Penny, was that you making all that noise in the bathroom last night?” another roommate asked, disgust in her eyes. “Yeah, sorry…” “Well, don’t blame Sarah. You woke us all up. Sarah has dark circles because of you.” I picked at my fingers, guilty. “I’m sorry.” “Hahaha.” They exchanged wicked glances. 4 “Tell you what,” Sarah said. “Go pick up my DoorDash order, and then go to the mailroom and bring up my 99 Amazon packages. I’ll give you $10.” “Deal.” I answered without hesitation. They looked shocked. They thought they were humiliating me, but they didn’t know that $10 was a fortune to me. With Mom’s $5, I could buy the pads. “Oh, and you have to run ten laps around the track while barking like a dog,” Sarah added, smirking. “Fine.” I spent the next hour lugging boxes up six flights of stairs. Then I fetched the food. “Ew, your hands are sweaty,” Sarah said when I handed her the bag. “How am I supposed to eat this?” I wiped the handles with my last few tissues. Then, I went to the track. My stomach was screaming. I stepped onto the rubber surface. “Woof! Woof!” I barked shamelessly. Students stared at me like I was a lunatic. Couples detoured to avoid the “crazy girl.” Some pulled out phones to record. I ran. My lower abdomen felt like it was filled with lead. I was running like a woman in labor. Sweat stung my eyes. By lap five, I collapsed. The mixture of sweat and blood was unbearable. I pulled out my phone and called Mom. “Hello? Who is this?” “Mom, it’s me. I need $10.” “Penny? You jinx! You open your mouth and it’s always money! I gave you $5 this morning! Why don’t you find a sugar daddy to pay for your brother’s down payment instead of bothering me? No money!” She didn’t even have my number saved. Five laps left. I ran on pure willpower. The barking got quieter. By the time I finished, most of the spectators had left. I collected the crumpled $10 bill from Sarah and bought the pads. In the bathroom stall, the smell of sweat and blood was overwhelming. I changed, crying silently so I wouldn’t annoy my roommates again. Back in the room, they were laughing. “Did you see the video? Penny barking and running?” “Yeah, I was there! Hilarious.” “Who degrades themselves for ten bucks?” “I’ll give her $20 tomorrow to see what else she’ll do.” I couldn’t sleep. I went outside to cry. Honk! A sports car came flying around the corner. I stood there, frozen, too tired to move. Bang! My skinny body flew through the air. I landed on the asphalt. Weirdly, it didn’t hurt. I felt light. Free. Finally, I thought. It’s over.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386433”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

“It’s for your own good,” Mom said. “Tough love.” After submitting my college applications, I was happily using the credit card linked to my mom’s account to buy dorm supplies. But then she stormed into my room. “You could have gotten into Harvard or Stanford! Why didn’t you apply?” I explained that my scores were barely on the cutoff line, and it was better to go to a top-tier state university for the major I actually loved. Mom sneered. “You have zero ambition. Just like your deadbeat father.” “Since you have so many ideas of your own, then don’t use my money.” She announced that the $5,000 limit on the linked card was all I would get for my entire college career. Subtracting what I’d just spent on essentials, I had exactly $4,000 left for four years. 1 My phone buzzed. A notification from the banking app popped up. Current Balance: $4,000.00. I had just placed an order for the recommended dorm bedding set and some other necessities, spending exactly a thousand dollars. Mom pushed the door open, her face devoid of warmth. She glanced at my phone screen, the corner of her mouth curling into a sarcastic smirk. “Lily, did you buy everything you need for move-in day?” I nodded, feeling a little uneasy. “Pretty much, Mom.” “Good.” She pulled out my desk chair and sat opposite me. “From today until you graduate college, this remaining four thousand dollars is all you get.” “I’ve already paid your tuition. Consider that the fulfillment of eighteen years of raising you.” “Living expenses, housing, utilities, and any dating you might do in the future—it all comes out of this.” My brain buzzed as if I’d been hit by a sledgehammer. “Mom, how can four thousand dollars last four years? That’s only a thousand a year…” “That’s your problem.” She cut me off, her voice ice cold. “You chose this path. You gave up Harvard, gave up the best future.” “I told you long ago, with your scores, if you just pushed a little harder, the doors to the Ivy League would open for you.” I clenched my fists. “But the program I like at UCLA is ranked number one in the country. I hate that major at Harvard, and my scores were borderline anyway. I’d be at the bottom of the class, stressed out of my mind.” “Excuses.” She scoffed. “Incompetence is just incompetence. Don’t find so many high-sounding reasons for yourself.” “You’re just mud that can’t stick to the wall, exactly like your useless father.” Outside the door, I heard my dad cough weakly. He probably heard everything but didn’t dare come in. My chest tightened. 2 Mom stood up, looking down at me. “I’ve said my piece. If you want to prove your choice was right, then use this four thousand dollars and make something of yourself.” “Don’t come crawling back to me when you’re starving.” With that, she turned and left. The door clicked shut with a dull thud, cutting off the last shred of warmth between us. I opened the chat with Mom. The last message was from yesterday. Me: Mom, I bought my plane ticket to LA! Arriving morning of Sept 1st! Mom: Got it. Be safe out there alone. In just twenty-four hours, my world had turned upside down. I slumped in my chair, looking out the window. The sky was darkening, and the city lights flickered on one by one, but none of them could light up the darkness inside me. Dad walked in with a bowl of soup, placing it carefully on my desk. “Lily, your mom just has that temper. Don’t take it to heart.” I looked at him, eyes rimmed with red. “Dad, four thousand dollars, four years. How am I supposed to live?” He sighed, avoiding my gaze. “Your mom is just angry right now. She’ll cool down.” “Just go along with her for now. When she gives you money later, just take it.” “Dad, it’s not about going along with her, it’s…” He waved his hand, interrupting me. “Alright, drink the soup before it gets cold.” He hurried out of my room. I knew that in this house, Mom was the absolute dictator. Dad never dared to go against her. Counting on him was useless. 3 On move-in day, my friend Chloe’s parents drove us to the airport. We lived in the same neighborhood. Mom used “work” as an excuse to make me hitch a ride with them. Chloe’s mom enthusiastically helped me lift my suitcase into the trunk, chattering away. “Lily is amazing, getting into such a top school. Bright future ahead.” Chloe’s dad nodded with a smile. “Yeah, unlike our Chloe who’s just going to a regular state college.” I forced a smile uglier than a cry. Chloe noticed something was wrong and nudged my arm in the back seat. I shook my head and turned to look out the window. As the car drove out of the neighborhood, I saw my mom’s car parked by the curb not far away. She hadn’t left. She just watched coldly as I drove away. I dragged my massive suitcase alone and squeezed onto the shuttle bus at LAX. The bus was crowded and smelled of stale coffee and sweat. I leaned against the window, watching the palm trees flash by. UCLA was beautiful, bathed in California sunshine. But I wasn’t in the mood to appreciate it. Check-in, getting my ID, moving luggage to the dorm… by the time I was done, it was evening. It was a triple room. My two roommates had already arrived. Their parents were busy making beds, hanging fairy lights, and fussing over them. The mom of one girl, Sarah, grabbed my hand warmly. “Sweetie, where are your parents? How come you’re doing this all alone?” I forced a smile. “They’re busy. I’m used to being independent.” Sarah’s mom looked heartbroken. She pulled an apple from her bag and stuffed it into my hand. “We’re all family here. If you need anything, just ask Sarah. Don’t be shy.” Holding the cold apple, I felt a warmth spread in my chest. That night, my roommates suggested going out for a nice dinner to celebrate the start of college. I looked at the glaring “$4,000” on my phone screen and hesitated. “I… I’m a little tired. I want to rest early. You guys go.” Sarah saw my embarrassment and smiled. “Hey, don’t be like that! My treat tonight! Consider it a welcome gift!” It was hard to refuse, so I followed them to a popular restaurant near campus. The meal came out to about $50 per person. Watching Sarah swipe her card without blinking, I had mixed feelings. That one meal was almost half my monthly budget if I strictly rationed. 4 Orientation week was long and exhausting. Under the hot sun, we toured the campus and sat through endless lectures. Sweating through my T-shirt. After dismissal, roommates would rush to the campus store for iced lattes and snacks. I could only walk silently to the water fountain and fill my bottle with lukewarm tap water. At the end of the week, there was a freshman mixer. The RA posted in the group chat, telling everyone to dress up and have fun. Roommates rummaged through suitcases, discussing makeup looks. I opened my suitcase. Aside from a few T-shirts and jeans, there was nothing. All the pretty dresses I used to love were locked in the wardrobe at home. Before I left, Mom had said coldly, “Going to study that useless major, who are you dressing up for? Having clothes on your back is enough.” At the mixer, wearing a faded T-shirt, I sat in the corner like an outsider. Sarah, in a beautiful floral dress, sang a song on stage and won a round of applause. After getting off stage, she ran to me and handed me a soda. “Lily, why aren’t you mingling? It’s boring sitting here alone.” I shook my head. “I can’t sing or dance.” She pulled my hand. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to some people.” Dragged by her, I met a few upperclassmen from my department. They were impressive and articulate. A senior asked me, “Lily, what was your SAT score? To get into this competitive program, you must be smart.” Before I could speak, Mom called. I walked to a quiet corner to answer. “Hello, Mom.” “What are you doing?” Her voice was devoid of emotion. “At… at the school mixer.” “Oh? Having fun, I see. Is the money enough?” Hope sparked in my heart. “Mom, I…” “Just asking.” She chuckled lightly. “Don’t expect me to send you another cent. You chose this path. Even if you have to crawl, you finish it.” She hung up. The noise of the party seemed to come from far away. I just felt cold all over. 5 My first month of college was like a monk’s penance. I ate the cheapest meal plan options, never bought snacks or fruit. To save money, I frantically searched online for part-time jobs. Flyering, waitressing, tutoring… But most jobs required large blocks of time, and my class schedule was packed. I could only find temporary gigs with low hourly pay. The first weekend, I went downtown to hand out flyers for a gym. Standing all day, throat dry, legs like lead. In the end, I got paid $60 cash. On the bus back to campus, I almost fell asleep from exhaustion. Watching the streetlights blur past, I doubted my choice for the first time. If I had listened to Mom and gone to the school she wanted, would I not be suffering like this? Back in the dorm, Sarah and the others were discussing plans for Fall Break. “Let’s go to Santa Barbara! I heard the beaches are amazing!” “Yes! I’ve been wanting to go!” They chattered away, no one noticing the fatigue on my face. I climbed silently into my bunk, drew the curtain, and shut out the world. To save money, I ate two meals a day. A bagel for breakfast, lunch at the cafeteria where I worked part-time. Dinner was skipped. I lost weight visibly. My clothes started hanging off me. Sarah couldn’t stand it. She started bringing me food under various pretenses. “Lily, if you keep this up, you’ll ascend to heaven before graduation.” She stuffed a warm burrito into my hand. Holding the hot food, my eyes stung. “Sarah, thank you.” “Don’t mention it.” She sighed. “Your mom is too much. Doesn’t she know you’re suffering here?” She knew. Of course she knew. She enjoyed the feeling of controlling me, of punishing me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386432”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My hearing is bad. When the campus heartthrob asked me to “run an errand” (pǎo tuǐ), I heard “make out with him” (qīn zuǐ). When he asked me to “swipe my meal card” (dǎ fàn), I heard “be his ride or die” (wéi zhe zhuàn). And just like that, in a haze of confusion, we started dating. Later, I caught him playing poker with his “bro-girl” best friend at a bar. He mocked me: “Dating a deaf girl is torture.” I wasn’t having it. I pushed open the door and asked him— “Where can I pick up four free male models?” The heartthrob exploded with rage. But I really didn’t hear him clearly! Where do I get them? If I’m late, they’ll be gone! 1 The moment I pushed open the door, everyone in the VIP booth froze. Sophie slid off Caleb’s lap, pulled down her mini-dress, and playfully punched him, her face flushed. “You said this was a guys’ night out. Why did you bring a girl?” “Relax, sis-in-law, don’t misunderstand. We just lost a game, it was a dare. Just rubbing, didn’t go in. We’re all bros here, straight as arrows, zero feelings involved, haha.” “Ugh, women are so troublesome… Caleb, hurry up and comfort your wifey!” The boy on the sofa lifted his eyelids slightly. He looked at me coldly, as if annoyed by my clinginess. So, I summoned my courage and walked up to him. “Caleb.” My voice trembled a little. But I still wanted an answer. “I didn’t hear you clearly just now.” “Did you say where I can pick up four free male models?” 2 “…” “I said dating a deaf girl is torture! Lana, what did you hear this time?!” “You f*cking dare look for male models?” The air was terrifyingly quiet. Caleb glared at me viciously, his gaze sharp as a knife. He had a phosphorus personality—igniting at the slightest friction—and he spoke fast, a garbled mess I could never catch. Amidst his firing squad, I mumbled aggrievedly, “I really didn’t hear where… if I go late, they’ll all be taken…” Caleb’s lips pressed into a thin line, his face dark and scary. Sophie ran over giggling to mediate: “Sis-in-law, we were really joking, don’t overthink it.” “I know you’re itching, maybe try scratching yourself with a shoe sole?” “…Sis-in-law knows so much, unlike innocent little girls like us who haven’t even held a boy’s hand.” “I know you’re broke. Here’s fifty bucks, go buy yourself some new underwear.” “Yours is washed down to a single string and you still wear it, sticking your butt out at the door like you’re yelling ‘Welcome!’ Aren’t you cold? Have some class, girl!” Sophie froze for three seconds, her face turning liver-red, then covered her mouth and ran out. The drinking party was full of Caleb’s childhood friends, seven or eight guys watching the show. Humiliated, he started cursing and shooing me out: “Lana, your ears don’t work, so stop spouting nonsense! Go back to campus!” “Who I drink and play games with is none of your business! Don’t think being my girlfriend gives you special privileges!” Walking out of the bar entrance. Caleb found a quiet spot to talk. He smirked with secret delight: “Lana. You were jealous just now, right?” “Not replying to messages, not picking up calls, not waiting downstairs at the dorm… playing hard to get?” “I find a random chick and look how panicked you get, immediately marking your territory. Male models? With a guy as handsome as me, you wouldn’t have the heart to look for models.” When it’s quiet, my “empty ear” isn’t as bad. I lowered my head shyly. As if he had hit the nail on the head. Actually, I really didn’t want to deal with Caleb lately. Because I discovered… After dating him for two years, I’ve saved up $150,000 and invested in a shop. He has no value left. Running into him tonight was a total accident. I treated my roommates to the bar to celebrate my shop opening, and his clique just happened to be there too. Could I afford to be soft-hearted? Caleb lit a cigarette and handed me his credit card: “Those dorm girls dragged you here again, didn’t they? Stay away from them, dressing like streetwalkers every day. No better than Sophie.” “Pay the bill and go back to sleep.” I nodded obediently. Clutching the credit card, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed Caleb. The corners of his mouth shot up so high he couldn’t hide it, not even noticing his lighter wasn’t lighting the cigarette. Turning around, I immediately took out my phone and messaged my roommates. Open the most expensive bottle. The sugar daddy is here to pay! 3 Since I was little, I told myself. Never be a “love brain” like my mom, spending a lifetime sacrificing for a broke man. Even when that man drank, gambled, cheated, beat his daughter until she was disabled and deaf, she forgave him time and time again. Before she died, she wouldn’t even buy painkillers, running out of the hospital to make him one last meal of dumplings… I’d rather be a bad woman. Than a stupid woman. … When I first started college, I was truly poor. Even with financial aid, I could only afford steamed buns and pickles. If my roommates didn’t sneak chicken legs into my lunchbox, I would have starved. A girl who walks out of the mountains. Has nothing left but resilience. One hungry night, I met Caleb. It was an elective class open to the whole school. A group of boys sat in the back row gaming. They ordered bubble tea but were too lazy to pick it up, looking for someone to run the errand. Caleb offered me fifty bucks. I thought it was too little. Five hundred. I hesitated. Caleb lost patience and directly transferred five thousand. So, I gently kissed the corner of his mouth. He wanted me to run an errand. I heard “make out.” 4 Looking back at that misunderstanding, we were both pretty satisfied. I took the money and treated my whole dorm to a crawfish feast; everyone ate until they were stuffed. He wasn’t as handsome as the valedictorian, nor as rich as the top-tier trust fund babies, and his basketball skills were mediocre. But he only said a few words to a girl, and she was so charmed by his charisma she kissed him. His bros said he was the real campus king. He was on cloud nine. … We met a second time in the cafeteria. I just wanted to smell the food and leave. I turned around. Caleb looked at me with an unreadable expression. “You’ve been wandering around forever. If you want to talk, just come over. Why pretend?” “Don’t even know how to crash my major’s classes? Never chased anyone before? Don’t tell me you’ve never dated?” “Take this. Swipe for my meals from now on.” My ears were damaged by my biological father—nerve damage, hearing aids don’t work. I always mishear. The cafeteria was noisy, making it worse. That meal card had a balance of $3,000, enough to feed me for four semesters. So I thought Caleb said: “Take this. From now on, your world revolves around me.” 5 Honestly, Caleb was easy to chase. Praise his brain for solving a calculus problem, scream and cheer when he dunks. Chase him around like a loyal puppy, then suddenly disappear one day, only to be found by him enduring hardship alone in the rain, making his heart ache… Psychology says, for a narcissistic phosphorus personality like him, as long as you feed his ego and act a little obedient and dumb. You can get anything. … Returning to the dorm in the early morning, my roommate suddenly showed me Sophie’s Instagram story. Caption: Some dog got drunk and insisted on going home with me. Does he want to stick to me for life? Help, I still need to get married someday! In the photo, Caleb’s large hand enveloped Sophie’s small hand, fingers interlaced. My roommate asked if I really didn’t mind. Her phone screen was burning hot. I shook my head calmly. I always knew Caleb had this “bro-girl” Sophie by his side. Long black hair, tiny face, looking like a delicate flower, yet insisting she was “one of the boys.” Didn’t accept gifts, didn’t date within the circle, even split the bill for bubble tea—refusing to take advantage of her “bros.” Before we dated, she joked about fighting Caleb for me. After we dated, she stuffed her panties in Caleb’s backpack to mark her territory. Used ones. I threw up when I pulled them out. I just wanted to secretly do Caleb’s homework, flatter him, and earn a few thousand in pocket money. What did I do wrong to deserve this?! Crying while carrying his bag to class, Caleb and his best bud were scrolling through photos and chatting: “Yeah, Sophie is so dark, definitely not her first time.” “I’ve known her for how many years? You think I don’t know what that b*tch is thinking? ‘Bro’ my ass, pretending in front of me.” “Just using her for practice. We even split the cost of Plan B.” “Chastity is the most important thing for a woman. When I marry, I have to pick someone of equal status who’s a virgin… at worst, a clean, honest backup like Lana.” Looking up and seeing me, they immediately changed the subject. Asking if I wanted to eat at that clean, old-style northern restaurant off-campus. They thought I couldn’t hear. Actually, in quiet places, I can hear clearly. I heard it all. So you see, why should I compete with Sophie? We’re both pleasing a piece of trash. I hold hands and play the innocent girlfriend, and my bank balance keeps rising. Sophie schemes and pretends, yet has to go Dutch on birth control pills. She’s way more pathetic than me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386431”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On the set of Truth or Dare, the host turned to my fiancée and asked, “Have you ever cheated on your partner?” My fiancée, Chloe, was hooked up to a lie detector. She hesitated for a moment, then looked at me and said, “At our engagement party, my ex-boyfriend got drunk and came crying to me.” I couldn’t help but interrupt, “Didn’t we sleep together that night?” Chloe took a deep breath. “Yes. You were lying right next to us, so we were very quiet, afraid of waking you. But he was drunk, and he was intentionally rough, so I had to stifle my screams.” In an instant, the audience was stunned into silence. The host let out a low whistle. “That’s… intense.” I gritted my teeth, clenching my fists. If she told the truth, she’d win a million dollars. For a million dollars, this woman had stopped pretending completely! This wasn’t just any ordinary game of Truth or Dare. It was a reality show that operated in a legal grey area, which is why we had to fly to the US to participate. Contestants had to bring their families. There were five questions in total. Each truthful answer earned $200,000. Answer all five correctly, and you walk away with a million dollars. But once you start, you absolutely cannot quit. If you quit, you lose all the prize money. Chloe said, “Don’t blame me. No one dislikes money. Anyway, I’m about to have a million dollars. Worst case scenario, I’ll break off the engagement. The moment we landed in America, I never planned on staying with you.” I clenched my jaw. This b*tch. She didn’t even know she was already finished. Chloe had fought hard to get a spot on this show. To get us here, she even lied to me, saying she wanted a honeymoon in Las Vegas before the wedding. Only after we landed did she confess she wanted to be on this show. I immediately looked it up and found out countless families had been destroyed by it. Chloe kept reassuring me, swearing she had never done anything to betray me. Liar. She was lying from the start. But what Chloe didn’t know was that I had a backup plan. Before coming to the show, I took her to a drive-thru chapel—classic Vegas style—and asked her if she’d marry me. To keep up the charade and get me on the show, she said yes. This is America. This is Las Vegas. Chloe had no idea our marriage was already effective. Completely legal. Turns out, I bet right. When she tricked me into coming here for this show, I predicted she must have done plenty of things to wrong me. Now, every cent of the prize money she earned by tearing apart our relationship and humiliating me belonged to me. What she was speaking wasn’t just the truth; it was the evidence that would leave her with nothing in the divorce! 1 After Chloe gave her answer, the host checked the lie detector results and said, “That is the truth. Next question.” Chloe let out a sigh of relief. She glanced at me, her eyes devoid of any affection. All she could think about was that million dollars. The host continued, “Second question: Do you love your partner?” Chloe laughed. “What kind of question is that? I don’t love him. I’m marrying him only because he was the best option among my suitors. But I’m about to have a million dollars, so… who cares about him? I’m a smart woman.” As she said this, Chloe shrugged, thinking she was being witty. She knew nothing about America. The show’s interpreter glanced at Chloe. When he translated her answer, the entire audience started booing. Chloe panicked and shouted, “Girl power! Girls help girls!” It didn’t work. Several women in the audience yelled, “B*tch!” The host signaled for quiet and smiled. “Seems like our show is getting interesting. Does the gentleman have anything to say?” I looked at Chloe and asked, “Have you thought about the fact that this show might be broadcast back home? That our parents might see it?” Chloe sneered. “A million dollars is seven million RMB. When I’m living in a penthouse in Shanghai or Beijing, driving a Porsche, do you think I’ll care what people think of me?” I asked, “Have I ever wronged you?” Chloe said, “No, you haven’t. You’re a good man, and I do feel I’ve wronged you. It’s just that I deserve a better life.” The host announced, “The lie detector indicates you are telling the truth. Congratulations, you’ve accumulated $400,000. Are you ready for your third question?” Chloe smiled. “Ready.” She acted so indifferent. True, she had already self-destructed with the first question. What did she have left to fear? I clenched my fists, hate bubbling in my chest. On the night of our engagement party, while I was sleeping, she was doing that with her ex right next to me. Nothing she said could hurt me more than that. But I underestimated how low the show could go. The host looked at Chloe with interest. “You’ve boldly spoken your truth on this show, which means you’ll face strange looks from family and friends when you return home. We understand you have a plan. What do you intend to do?” Chloe looked at me and said, “I won’t be going back. I’m staying in America.” “But your tourist visa will expire.” Chloe suddenly announced, “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to marry an American man.” I was stunned. What did she mean, marry an American man? The host chuckled. “We have a special guest today. Would you mind introducing him to us?” Chloe nodded. “Please meet my fiancé, Tyler.” I couldn’t process it. I was her fiancé. Why was there suddenly another fiancé with a foreign name? Music started playing, and from behind the big screen walked a sloppy American man. He weighed at least 250 pounds, looked unkempt, and honestly, greasy. I was in shock. Since when did Chloe have a fiancé behind my back? The host said, “Your third truth: please explain this situation to us.” Chloe said, “As you can see, I’m a smart woman. When I came to America for this show, I knew what I’d face back home. So, a month ago, I started posting sexy photos of myself online.” My eyes widened. I couldn’t help but ask, “A month ago? Wasn’t that when we were preparing for the wedding?” Chloe replied, “At this point, the mask is off, so I have nothing to hide. I have to admit, posting thirst traps while wearing a wedding dress really gets the attention of foreigners. I love this open country.” “In China, wearing a wedding dress means accepting oppression from a husband. Bearing children for them, becoming a pathetic housewife.” “But America is different. In this land of freedom, I can express myself fully.” The interpreter’s face turned dark. I sighed. Chloe was so focused on grabbing money that she didn’t understand America at all. The interpreter looked like he wanted to slap her. The host said to the interpreter, “Please translate the lady’s words.” The interpreter awkwardly relayed Chloe’s statement. Instantly, the crowd erupted in curses. Especially the female audience members, who were shouting all kinds of profanities at Chloe. The host said, “It seems the lady has watched too many Hollywood movies and misunderstood our culture. We are in Las Vegas, Nevada. We lean Republican here.” Chloe looked clueless. “What’s the difference?” The host explained, “You foreign tourists might be ‘open,’ but to us, marriage is exactly what you despise. Men go out to provide, women stay home to care for the house and children. Our women oppose abortion, support traditional families, and are modest and conservative.” Chloe’s face grew uglier by the second. The host continued, “Our wives prepare meals with care for their husbands, iron their suits, and take the family to church every Sunday, taking pride in such a life. If you want to marry into America, at least understand American culture. Or maybe you should go to California; you’ll find plenty of Democrat friends to support you there.” In that moment, Chloe finally understood. This was a Republican stronghold. In the eyes of this audience, she was a loose, shameless slut. And just moments ago, she was clowning around shouting “girls help girls.” The host smiled. “Please continue.” Chloe realized her predicament. Feeling the scornful gazes of the audience, she braced herself and said, “It doesn’t matter. Once I get the million dollars, I can go to California and pursue the life I want. Anyway, after I posted some sexy photos…” The host interrupted, “Please specify the degree of sexiness.” Chloe awkwardly said, “Photos without clothes.” “Specifically, how much without clothes?” “Completely naked.” “How many views did these posts get?” “Some got a few, some got tens of thousands.” The audience immediately started shouting insults at Chloe. Whore. Slut. Chloe panted in humiliation, seemingly motivating herself with the thought of the million dollars. She continued, “Some men DM’d me. I expressed that I wanted to get married, and then I chose Tyler.” The audience started protesting. Some people stood up to curse her. For dramatic effect, the host handed the microphone to a woman in the audience. She said, “How could anyone want to marry an internet slut? Did you choose this man named Tyler, or was he the only one willing to marry you?” Tyler yawned, and in front of everyone, reached into his shorts and scratched his butt. Chloe admitted honestly, “Only he was willing. Everyone else rejected me.” The woman rolled her eyes. “While your fiancé was preparing for the wedding, you were posting shameless photos online just to marry over here. You truly only deserve a low-value man like him.” Tyler got angry, flipping the woman off and looking ready to fight her until security held him back. I clenched my fists, feeling utterly humiliated. So the moment Chloe found out she could be on the show, she started preparing back home. She had been cucking me for who knows how long! Chloe shrugged. “I don’t care. You’re all just jealous. Once I get the million dollars and marry Tyler for a green card, I’ll have a happy life.” I sneered when I heard that. She was still fantasizing about marrying Tyler and spending that million dollars in America, unaware she was already married to me. She couldn’t marry Tyler. When her visa expired, she’d have to go back. She wouldn’t have a happy life. All our friends and family would witness what a cheap person she was. When this hit the courts, she’d regret every single confession she made! Chloe noticed my smile. “Are you laughing at me?” I nodded. “Yeah, I am.” Chloe retorted, “What right do you have to laugh at me! I admit I’m bad, but I’ve already earned $600,000!” I looked at her coldly. She hadn’t earned $600,000. She had earned me $600,000. She thought enduring humiliation was making her rich, but she didn’t know she was making money for me. The host picked up his mic. “Congratulations on earning $600,000. And congratulations to our show; I believe this episode will have record-breaking ratings.” While the host spoke, I waved to a producer on the side. The producer came over and asked if I wanted to speak. I said, “I’ll give you a scoop that will send your ratings through the roof.” The producer looked confused. I leaned in and whispered, “We got married today. Please help me contact a lawyer. I’m going to make this woman lose everything. You can make this the final question.” The producer’s eyes widened in disbelief. I took out the marriage certificate and waved it in front of him. Immediately, the producer gave me a thumbs up and excitedly ran off to make arrangements. The host smiled. “Now, for $800,000. Miss, do you…” Just as the host was about to ask the fourth question, the producer ran up to him. He whispered excitedly into the host’s ear. The host listened, then looked at me in surprise. He put down the original question card and asked Chloe, “Miss, you are about to win a million dollars, but you have committed adultery and deceit against your fiancé. Now, both your fiancé and the man you intend to marry are here. Have you and Tyler done anything?” My heart skipped a beat. The show was helping me!

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386430”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My husband transferred the title of my $10 million Hamptons villa to his intern, Sierra. Sierra posted the deed on Instagram to show off: “Thank you for the love, Mr. CEO~ The little puppy finally has a kennel in New York. Love you~” The sophisticated oil paintings that once adorned the walls were replaced by cheap, tacky landscape prints. I called Alex immediately. “Explain to me why my villa now belongs to someone else.” Alex’s voice on the other end was nonchalant. “Sierra didn’t have a place to stay in the city. We have so many properties; we won’t miss just one.” “You have ten minutes to transfer the title back and restore everything to its original state!” Alex hung up without another word. Three minutes later, every major partner of the Sterling Group pulled their funding. If he wasn’t willing to fix the problem, I didn’t mind destroying the Sterling empire. 1 Before Alex could even call me back, his grandfather, Old Man Sterling, called first. “Eliza, did that brat Alex upset you again?” “Don’t take it to heart. The Sterling family has six other grandsons. If he doesn’t know how to behave, feel free to pick another one!” “Just don’t take it out on the company, okay?” I let out a cold laugh. “Mr. Sterling, your grandson gave my villa to a little white lotus. Would you tolerate that if you were me?” Silence on the other end for a few seconds, then a voice grinding with rage: “That ungrateful brat who doesn’t know the height of the sky! Eliza, don’t worry. I’ll make him return the house immediately.” Soon after, Alex stormed into my office. “Eliza, are you crazy?” “Over a stupid house, you actually called Grandpa and threatened to replace me as the heir?” “Since when did you become so vicious?” So that’s how he saw me. I looked out at the rain pelting the window, a chill spreading from my fingertips to my heart. “That villa was bought with our joint assets. You had no right to give it to anyone without my permission.” “Alex, transfer the title back immediately. And restore my paintings. Every single one.” “Otherwise, the Sterling Group will lose a lot more than just funding.” Alex fell silent. He knew I always kept my word. If he didn’t do as I said today, I would sever every partnership the Sterling Group had. Finally, he sighed in resignation. “Fine. I promise you.” Then he pursed his lips tight and looked at me with burning eyes. It was his usual trick. Every time he messed up, he’d put on this look. In the past, I would have rushed into his arms and hugged him tight. But now, I simply instructed my assistant to see him out. As a married man, if he couldn’t even maintain basic boundaries, I had no reason to indulge him. The deed was transferred back quickly. I smashed his favorite antique vase, took a photo of the shards, and sent it to him. “Alex, you know my temper. Let this be the last time!” He didn’t reply. I knew he was angry. But he crossed the line first. He couldn’t blame me. 2 The next day, just after a board meeting, I received a call from the project director. “Ms. Landers, there’s a problem with the North Shore partnership!” When I arrived at the scene, I learned that Sierra had insulted Director Wang, a crucial government official, with her rude remarks. This project was a joint venture between the Landers Group and the Sterling Group, handling a major government contract. How could Alex entrust such a critical negotiation to an inexperienced intern? I immediately apologized to Director Wang. For my sake, he let it slide. But just as I was about to fire Sierra, Alex burst into the conference room. “Eliza, Sierra is my person. You have no right to fire her!” “You can’t separate right from wrong. This blind revenge is disgusting!” He pointed at me, shouting without asking for the reason. The man who used to be gentle as jade was now glaring at me for another woman. I put down the documents in my hand and looked at him calmly. “Mr. Sterling, please remember who you are.” “First, you are my husband. Where do you put my dignity when you stand up for another woman?” “Second, you are the head of the Sterling Group. Do you think Sierra is qualified to handle such an important partnership?” “Ask everyone here. Am I the one who can’t distinguish right from wrong?” Alex’s face turned pale. His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. The air in the conference room seemed to freeze. Everyone held their breath. I looked at Sierra. “Go ahead. Tell us yourself. What did you do to Director Wang during the meeting?” Sierra lowered her head, unable to say a word for a long time. I pulled up the surveillance footage and handed it to Alex. On the screen, Sierra was cursing Director Wang, calling him a snob, and pouring a cup of coffee over his head. Sierra quickly tried to defend herself. “Alex, he insulted me first, that’s why I…” I crossed my legs and looked up at her. “You got several key figures wrong in the proposal. He was kind enough to correct you. You call that an insult?” But Alex was still defending her. “It was Sierra’s first time participating in such a major negotiation. Maybe she got nervous and misspoke.” “It didn’t cause any real loss. For my sake, give her another chance.” I looked into Alex’s pleading eyes and suddenly found it incredibly laughable. “I’ll give you two choices. Either fire her, or Landers Group withdraws from this project.” Alex panicked. He knew this partnership relied heavily on my connections. If Landers Group pulled out, the project was dead. Grandpa was already extremely dissatisfied with him, and his six brothers were watching like hawks. His position as CEO was in serious jeopardy. Just as he was about to make the hard decision, Sierra started sobbing. “Alex… it’s my fault… I shouldn’t have been impulsive and let you down.” “But that Director Wang… he… he said you only got where you are by clinging to the Landers family. He said you were a kept man…” “I was just so angry…” “I know I caused you trouble. I’ll go to HR and resign right now. Don’t make it hard for him…” She turned to leave, but Alex grabbed her arm. “Stop! I won’t let you leave!” Watching this scene, my heart suddenly throbbed with pain. The man who once promised me forever was now fighting me for another woman. I had no patience to argue with them anymore. I called security and had them thrown out. 3 My persistence angered Grandpa Sterling, and he ordered Sierra to be fired directly. To compensate her, Alex took her shopping for bags. After circling the luxury brand section, Sierra stopped in front of a limited edition Hermes Birkin. Her eyes were filled with greed. “Alex, this bag is so exquisite!” “But a bag of this level is probably only for socialites and rich wives. How could an ordinary person like me deserve it?” Her mouth said she didn’t deserve it, but her fingers clutched the strap tightly. “Don’t sell yourself short. You are excellent. One day, you will stand at the top and look down on everything!” “I’m giving you this bag as motivation for your journey forward.” At that moment, the boutique manager walked over quickly. “I’m terribly sorry, but this bag was reserved by Ms. Landers. You two can look at our other…” “Eliza?” Sierra spun around. Seeing me walk out of the VIP room, a flash of hatred crossed her face, instantly replaced by humility. “Ms. Landers has great taste. This bag really suits you. Someone like me is fine with a regular style.” “That’s just how the world is. Even if I spend my whole life trying, I might not even touch Ms. Landers’ shoe heels.” “But Ms. Landers is different. Born to look down on everything.” “How could I deserve this bag? Alex, let’s just go.” Hearing this, Alex immediately frowned. “You’re both human. What makes her so superior? Don’t belittle yourself.” He turned to me, anger burning in his eyes. “Eliza, are you only satisfied when you trample everyone under your feet?” “Sierra has fought her way up from the bottom on her own. Someone like you, born with a silver spoon, can’t even compare to a finger of hers!” “You’re just a petty, narrow-minded person!” Me? Petty? I almost laughed out loud. “What does her effort have to do with me? I didn’t give birth to her; I don’t need to answer for her life.” “Besides, I reserved this bag six months ago. What’s the problem with me picking it up today?” Alex sneered. “You have dozens of bags in your closet. Will you die without this one?” He suddenly slapped a black card onto the counter. “Today, I’m taking this bag!” I looked at his trembling hand and found it ridiculous. “Alex, have you forgotten that every cent on that card belongs to the Landers family?” His face went instantly pale. Many families wanted to ally with the Landers group. It was his persistent pursuit that moved me. “As long as you marry me, I will love you properly and never let you down.” I thought I had finally found true love, so I chose to marry him. After marriage, I used Landers assets to support the Sterling Group. I thought that marriage made us one, and as long as we loved each other, money didn’t matter. But I didn’t expect him to trample our marriage into the mud for an intern. 4 Because of the bag incident, he stayed away from home for several days in anger. It wasn’t until Grandpa showed up at his door with the other six grandsons that he panicked. He moved back that very night. Late that night, Sierra suddenly called, crying uncontrollably. “Alex, please beg Ms. Landers for me. Ask her not to make things hard for me.” “I really can’t hold on anymore…” Alex immediately comforted her. “What happened? What did she do to you?” “Alex, no company wants to hire me now. Ms. Landers must have put the word out.” “Please beg her to let me go. I’m just an ant; I have no right to fight with her.” Alex frowned deeply, turning to glare at me. “Don’t be afraid. With me here, no one can bully you!” After hanging up, he grabbed me by the collar, his eyes red. “Are you going too far? Do you have to drive Sierra to a dead end?” “She’s just a little girl struggling at the bottom, working hard and diligently.” “Don’t think that just because you have some stinkin’ money, you can treat people like dirt!” I shook off his hand and looked at him calmly. “Alex, this is the second time. Three strikes and you’re out. Do it again, and you know the consequences!” “I didn’t do those things, and I wouldn’t stoop so low. If you don’t believe me, that’s your problem.” He glared at me angrily, turned, and slammed the door as he left. Leaving only one sentence: “I was blind to marry you.” My heart felt like it was being squeezed by a giant hand, tearing me apart with pain. The person I once treasured now despised me so much. I, Eliza Landers, always proud, had fallen to this. Ignoring Grandpa’s pressure, Alex openly took Sierra to various events. In the blink of an eye, Sierra became the hottest new star in the circle. Everyone tacitly accepted the relationship between them. Alex didn’t clarify; instead, he took Sierra golfing every week, spending hours alone in the private lounge. Rumor had it he even replaced our wedding photo on his desk with a picture of him and Sierra. Good. Very good. The man who vowed to be faithful to me was thoroughly dead. Since he broke the contract first, don’t blame me for showing no mercy. Alex, betraying me comes with a price!

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386429”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I snuck into the city where my online boyfriend lives to surprise him. But instead of a romantic reunion, I overheard him talking trash with his boys: “What’s the use of a sexy voice if she won’t even send a pic? She’s definitely a troll.” “If the campus queen hadn’t rejected me, I wouldn’t waste my time sexting someone like that.” “It’s bad enough she’s probably ugly, but she’s thirsty as hell. Kept demanding to ‘verify the goods’ before we meet.” His friend laughed, “So you showed her?” My boyfriend smirked. “Yeah. But it wasn’t mine. It was Xavier’s.” “Holy sh*t,” his friend gasped. “Your roommate? You said he was packing at least 8 inches. For real?” “Of course it’s real. Why would I lie?” “Xavier’s a real one. Saw I didn’t want to send nudes, so he offered to be my stunt double.” The group erupted in laughter. I laughed too. I’ve heard of hand doubles and leg doubles, but a “d*ck double”? That’s a first. I need this man’s file on my desk in three minutes. 1 I’m a “good girl.” Polite, modest, well-read, and respectful. Optimistic, cheerful, hardworking. Bullsh*t. That’s just the persona I maintain in front of the elders. The real me… Rebellious, spicy, wild at heart, petty, and definitely not to be messed with. And I have cravings. In every sense of the word. After high school graduation, I spent my days scrolling through hot guys on TikTok. Lean swimmers, golden retrievers, cold and aloof scholar types—liked and saved them all. Scrolling and scrolling, my heart started racing, and I got restless. So, I got myself an online boyfriend. Julian. One year older than me, currently in college. 6’0″ barefoot, broad shoulders, a tapered waist, abs you could grate cheese on. Most importantly, he’s allegedly packing 8 inches. I can’t believe I stumbled upon such a prime specimen. Life is good. Surprisingly, Julian turned out to be an upperclassman at the university I was about to attend. It felt like destiny. But Julian knew nothing about this. I kept it a secret because I wanted to surprise him when the semester started. To keep the mystery alive, I never sent him a face pic. Julian got annoyed about it, saying I wasn’t being sincere. He sounded so dejected on the phone. His hometown was just a city over from mine, less than thirty minutes by train. After thinking it over, I decided to just go find him. 2 To give me “security,” Julian reported everything to me. He even texted me where he was eating with his friends. Saved me the trouble of fishing for info. I followed the GPS and easily found the BBQ joint where they were hanging out. Among dozens of tables at the roadside stall, I spotted Julian instantly. He was even better looking in person than in his photos. It was midsummer, the wind was hot, and as it hit my face, my cheeks felt even hotter. I steadied my breathing and was about to walk up. Suddenly, Julian slammed his beer glass on the table, a mocking look in his eyes: “What’s the use of a sexy voice if she won’t even send a pic? She’s definitely a troll!” I stopped in my tracks. The blush on my face receded like a tide. Julian continued, “Just playing around. If the campus queen hadn’t rejected me and I wasn’t bored out of my mind, I wouldn’t even give her the time of day.” “It’s bad enough she’s probably ugly, but she’s thirsty as hell. Kept demanding I send nudes.” I pursed my lips, fists clenching involuntarily. Wait a minute. He was the one who bragged about his size and asked if I wanted to see. Why wouldn’t I look? Free show. Now he’s acting like I forced him? Amidst the jeering, someone asked, “So you showed her?” Julian smirked, looking proud. “Yeah. But it wasn’t mine. It was Xavier’s.” “Holy sh*t,” his friend gasped. “Your roommate? You said he was packing at least 8 inches. For real?” Julian took a drag of his cigarette. “Of course it’s real. Why would I lie?” “Xavier’s a real one. Saw I didn’t want to send nudes, so he offered to be my stunt double.” The table went silent for a second, then burst into laughter. “Bro, I’m dead. So this relationship is superficially two people, but actually two people plus a…” More laughter. Julian frowned. “What relationship? It’s just sexting. She’s basically my dog. Once summer break is over, I’m kicking this ugly troll to the curb immediately.” Hearing Julian say these things again, I surprisingly didn’t feel much. Because right now, my mind was filled with that impactful photo. What was his name again? Oh, right. Xavier… 3 Sitting on the train back home, I started scrolling through Julian’s Instagram. But the guy was too narcissistic; he posted nothing but himself. I sighed. Looks like if I want to see what Xavier looks like, I’ll have to wait for school to start. I felt a pang of regret for a second, then opened TikTok to scroll through hot guys again. Just as I was about to arrive, I swiped onto a campus interview video. The topic was “Who is your campus heartthrob?” I wasn’t interested and was about to swipe away. But suddenly, I heard the name “Xavier.” The arrival announcement chimed. I turned up the volume on my earbuds as I walked out. I listened several times. I definitely didn’t mishear. And the university name matched. I thought back to that photo… Campus heartthrob Xavier. Pretty wild in private, huh? 4 As the semester approached, Julian grew colder. He took days to reply to messages. I gritted my teeth. If he wasn’t still useful to me, I would’ve blocked him ages ago. That night, looking at the one-sided chat log, I sent Julian a sticker, refusing to give up. This time, Julian replied quickly: “Hey, I don’t think we’re suitable. We can be friends, but let’s forget about dating.” I was lying on my bed with a face mask on, legs crossed. Seeing this message, my eyes lit up. I’ve been waiting for this day! I typed with a smirk: “Why? Did I do something wrong? Finger guns sticker” Julian replied: “No, don’t overthink it. It’s my problem.” I rolled my eyes silently. Classic f*ckboy line. Zero creativity. Inner monologue over, time to unleash my acting skills. Crying sticker “You don’t need to comfort me. I know I’m not good enough for you. You deserve a better girl. I wish you happiness.” Julian paused, his heart inexplicably twitching. A while later, he replied: “You’re great. Be confident, babe. It’s me who let you down.” “If you have any requests, just ask. I’ll fulfill them.” I got excited, ripped off my face mask, sat up straight, and voice-called Julian directly. When he picked up, I sniffled first, adding a hint of a sob to my voice. “Will you really agree to any request?” Julian gave a solemn “Mmhmm.” “Actually, I kind of know you’re not confident about your looks. Don’t worry, I don’t care. If you want to meet me, I can right now…” “Then introduce me to a new boyfriend.” I really didn’t have the patience to listen to his rambling anymore, so I interrupted. Julian froze. Three seconds later, he reacted: “Huh?” 5 I sighed. “Julian, actually, from the moment I saw your photo, I knew it was impossible for us.” “You’re so handsome. How could you like an ordinary girl like me? Being friends with you is already enough for me.” Julian, who was originally annoyed, instantly deflated. His vanity was satisfied, and he felt guilty at the same time. So he said, “Chloe, don’t belittle yourself. You’re great. I… I’ll introduce my roommate to you right now.” “He’s also very handsome. Many beautiful girls at our school chase him, but he rejected them all.” “This shows he doesn’t care about looks. You guys chat, maybe you’ll hit it off.” I stayed silent for a moment, then sighed softly. “Okay, I’ll try.” Then I asked casually, “By the way, what’s his name?” “Xavier. His name is Xavier.” Success! My eyes curved into crescents. I suppressed my excitement and steadied my breathing. “Okay, I’ll add him on WeChat first. Send me his contact.” “Julian, thank you.” Julian laughed. “Don’t mention it. Don’t forget, we’re friends now.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386428”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day Julian—my father’s “seventh brother”—and I were planning to go public with our relationship, my father sent him on a suicide mission. Julian told me that if he made it back alive, he would marry me in the grandest wedding the city had ever seen. I turned down every marriage proposal that came my way and waited for him for three years. When he finally returned, covered in scars, walking with a limp, and missing a finger, he knelt before my father. “Boss, I want to trade the credit for this mission for a favor. I want to marry Bella.” Behind him stood a girl named Bella, timidly cradling a very pregnant belly. My father instinctively looked at me. Everyone in the room held their breath, expecting me to tear the place apart and scream until my lungs gave out. Instead, I simply smiled, bowed my head, and said, “Welcome to the family, Aunt Bella.” Three years’ worth of marriage proposals were piled up in the corners of my room. I walked in, pulled one from the stack at random, and agreed to marry him. On my wedding day, Julian hijacked the convoy with a gun in his hand. “If you go through with this, I’ll kill him.” Chapter 1 My father has seven brothers-in-arms, men who have bled for the family business. Julian Vance is number seven. He was the most handsome of my seven “uncles,” and the one I had loved since I was a teenager. My father later said that if he had known about us, he never would have sent Julian away. Out of all the lieutenants, Julian was the best fighter. If he couldn’t survive the mission, the others would have just been cannon fodder. But that was three years ago. “Miss Stella! Seven… Mr. Vance is back!” My eyes snapped open. I ran out of my room barefoot. The butler tried to stop me. “Miss…” Seeing his hesitation, I stopped. I knew something had changed. “I understand.” I grabbed an umbrella and walked out. In my rush, the hem of my dress dragged in the mud. The main hall was packed. My six other uncles stood under the eaves, looking at Julian with a mix of hatred and relief. I didn’t understand where the hatred came from until I saw him. “Dad.” Everyone looked at me. My father, usually radiating an aura of menace, softened when he saw me. “What’s going on? Why is he kneeling?” Julian glanced at me. It was a cold look, the kind you give a stranger. He slammed his head against the floorboards. “Boss, she and the child are innocent. I don’t want to put them in a difficult position.” “I’m begging you, Boss. Begging you, Miss Stella. Let us be.” He bowed his head again. In a daze, the pieces clicked together. A girl walked in from the rain, cautious and fearful. She was about my age. Under her white dress, her belly was swollen with pregnancy. She knelt beside Julian, weeping silently. My father fingered the prayer beads in his hand, saying nothing. Julian probably didn’t expect his request to be this difficult. After all, our relationship had been a secret. No one knew. But he forgot one thing. If I hadn’t confessed the truth to my father years ago, I would have been married off for a business alliance long before I could wait three years for a ghost. Everyone in the room looked at me with pity. I look docile, but everyone knows I have a temper that could burn this house down. Uncle Six walked up behind me, trying to comfort me. I raised my hand, cutting him off. My eyes never left Julian. Three years. He had aged. A deep scar cut through his eyebrow, he had a limp, and a finger was gone. Obviously, he had been through hell. “Uncle Seven is a hero of the Chase family. We don’t make heroes kneel,” I said, my voice steady. My father waved his hand, visibly emotional, and signaled for Julian to rise. “Dad, I remember next month on the 3rd is a lucky date. Let’s arrange the wedding for Uncle Seven and Aunt Bella.” My father, usually stoic, choked up for a second. The other uncles lowered their heads in silence. Only the couple in the rain hugged each other and cried tears of joy. Because next month on the 3rd was the date my father had originally picked for my wedding to Julian. He had chosen three dates over the years. This was the last one. He told me I’d eventually catch a date when Julian came home. The man came home. The proposal happened. But the bride wasn’t me. Meeting Julian’s tender gaze directed at the girl, I snapped, “Is everyone mute? Pay your respects!” The courtyard full of bodyguards shouted in unison, “Welcome home, Mr. Vance! Hello, Mrs. Vance!” Chapter 2 I spun around under my umbrella and walked away. I could feel the burning stares on my back. Uncle Six chased after me. “Stella, honey, I’m so sorry.” I pushed open my bedroom door. Proposals from various powerful families were stacked like firewood in the corners. “Uncle Six, out of all these candidates, who has the most value?” “With the Chase family’s current standing, marriage is just icing on the cake. We don’t need value.” “Then who’s the best looking?” Seeing Uncle Six hesitate, I pulled a file from the middle of the stack. “Silas Sterling.” “Maybe pick another one.” “Why?” A cool, lazy voice drifted in from the window. “Because he has a bad reputation. He only knows how to party, drink, and spend money. He knows jack squat about business or power. He’s a famous waste of space.” I looked towards the window, then down at the photo in the file. “You look better than your picture.” Uncle Six pointed at the man sitting on my balcony railing. “You punk! You dare climb the Chase family’s walls? Do you want to lose your legs?” I shoved the file into Uncle Six’s chest. “Him. I want him.” Silas Sterling was lounging on the outer wall of my balcony, legs crossed. Hearing this, he sat up straighter and looked me over. “Clean up your mess with Julian Vance. In seven days, I’ll bring the convoy to pick you up.” With that, he flipped off the high wall and vanished. Uncle Six took a deep breath, his face red with anger. “That little bastard really is good for nothing.” “Not good for nothing,” I murmured. “At least his intel is good.” If a “waste” like him knew about me and Julian, he wasn’t a waste at all. In the evening, I went to the garden gazebo. Julian was waiting there. He sat across from me, dismissing the servants with a glance. I sipped my tea, reading a financial magazine, and asked casually, “Is the child yours?” He didn’t answer. He just started peeling lotus seeds for me, a habit from the old days. “Miss Stella… uh, Seven, you’re here too. Sorry to interrupt. Miss, here are the files you asked for.” My bodyguard dropped a dossier on the table without hesitation. The top photo was of the girl Julian brought back. I leaned back and lit a cigarette. Julian shifted uncomfortably. “I wronged you,” he said finally. “Her appearance… she gave me a desire for a peaceful life. She can wait, but the baby can’t. I want to give them a legitimate identity. I don’t want my kid born a bastard.” “If you wanted a peaceful life, you shouldn’t have messed with me in the first place.” Julian reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a string of ancient coins. “Three years ago, this was the antique set you wanted most. I traveled North and South. I finally collected them all.” He put his hand over mine, his eyes intense. “You think a bracelet is going to make me let this go? Is this the first day you’ve met me?” Without hesitation, Julian slid off the bench and knelt before me. “I’m sorry.” “Consider my life yours. Can you just… let her be?” I smiled and stood up. I took one last drag of my cigarette, looked around for an ashtray, and found none. Julian raised his open palms, his eyes dark and resigned. I crushed the burning cigarette out in the center of his hand. “Then go die now.” Chapter 3 Julian looked at me in shock. “Is this how you used those sweet words to trick that little girl?” I asked. “Uncle Seven, if pretty words could solve problems, the Chase family wouldn’t be sitting on the throne we occupy today.” I walked toward the banquet hall. My bodyguard caught up. “Miss, you forgot this.” He was holding the antique coin bracelet. “It’s worth some money. Keep it. It’s yours.” “Thank you, Miss.” In the banquet hall, my uncles welcomed me with smiles. As soon as I sat down, Su Yueying—Bella—grabbed my hand. “Niece, I heard you and Julian are very close. That means you listen to him. After we get married next month, you should visit us often, just like before.” She smiled warmly, but there was a flicker of challenge in her eyes. “Stella, let’s add each other on WeChat.” She pulled out a phone. The lock screen was a photo of her and Julian. She tapped her forehead dramatically. “Oh, silly me. I’m using Julian’s old phone. Niece, Julian didn’t save names on this account. Which one is you?” She looked at me with a feigned innocence. Across the table, the uncles sensed the tension. I glanced at it. It was indeed Julian’s old phone. Since she wanted to know so badly, I didn’t mind telling her. “How could there be no name? The one saved as ‘Baby.’ That’s me.” Bella’s face stiffened. She didn’t expect me to be so shameless. “You two were really close. Is this it?” She held up the phone, ostensibly showing me, but actually showing everyone. The screen was filled with walls of text from me. Asking where he was. Telling him I missed him. Three years of unrequited messages to a dead number. “My phone broke, so I’m using this one. Niece, Julian probably never saw these messages. Should I forward them to his new number?” Julian walked in at that moment. I signaled my bodyguard behind me. “Show that to Julian.” “Yes, Miss.” He snatched the phone from Bella and handed it to Julian. Julian didn’t react to the chat history, but he froze when he saw the bracelet on the bodyguard’s wrist. “Where did you get that?” “Miss Stella told me to show it to you.” “I mean the bracelet. Where did you get it?” “Miss Stella gave it to me.” I couldn’t read the look in Julian’s eyes. He pulled out a chair and sat next to me. “Sitting here might make it hard to explain things to your fiancée,” I said. “Not sitting here would make it hard to explain things to you.” He stayed by my side through the whole dinner, occasionally placing food on my plate. Near the end, he suddenly said, cold and low, “Why did you give away something you liked?” I picked at a piece of fish. “Are you talking about the bracelet, or the person?” Silence. I could feel Bella’s anger radiating from across the table. I saw her clench her fists under the table. But I didn’t care about her feelings. “Still so willful after three years. You really need a husband to manage you.” “I’m done eating. Enjoy, everyone.” I wiped my mouth, grabbed my bag, and left the table. He thought I was upset. Truthfully, I just didn’t need him anymore. In all likelihood, I would be married before he was. “Miss, gentlemen, Boss Chase asks everyone to move to the front parlor.” I headed that way. The massive parlor was filled with red chests. Fifty or sixty of them, tied with red silk and ‘Double Happiness’ symbols. My father sat at the head, holding a list, checking the dowry items one by one. “Is this… is this the dowry for me?” Bella covered her mouth in shock. “So much?” Julian smiled gently and patted her head. My uncles started asking about wedding details. “Have you picked a dress?” “Going tomorrow.” “Good. When you get back, go to my vineyard and pick the wine. Take whatever you want.” “Thank you, Third Brother.” They chatted back and forth. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought these were genuinely gifts for Julian. Until the butler ran in, grinning ear to ear. “Boss! Miss Stella! Silas Sterling is here!” Chapter 4 Julian turned around, looking confused. “Why is he here? The Chases and the Sterlings don’t interact much.” Bella leaned against the wall and dry heaved. “Julian… I don’t feel well.” “I’ll take you to the restroom.” Before leaving, Julian instructed Uncle Six, “Six, if Big Brother asks, tell him Bella isn’t well. I’m taking her out for a moment.” “Go ahead.” The Sterling family entourage entered. Silas was wearing a flashy red suit and winked at me. My dad welcomed him with a laugh. “Come, sit.” “What is the Sterling family doing here? Why is Big Brother so happy?” Julian asked when he returned. “Second Brother, do you know?” “Third Brother, what’s up?” Except for Uncle Six, the other uncles were scratching their heads in confusion while maintaining polite smiles. “Stella chose Silas Sterling for marriage. They are here to propose.” “Stella chose him herself? But isn’t she…” They looked suspicious but turned to congratulate the Sterlings. “Walk with me?” Silas asked. “Sure.” Silas walked me to the backyard. It was his first time at the Chase estate, and he looked around with blatant curiosity. “Julian… I mean, Seven… what did I do wrong?” Bella’s voice drifted from around a corner. “She’s the pampered princess with the Chase family backing her. What about me? What about our three years? She’s doing this on purpose. I can’t swallow this insult.” “If she were doing it on purpose, you wouldn’t have a chance to marry me. Don’t bring this up again.” Silas stopped suddenly. He looked back at me with a gaze that screamed… drama. “I’m tired. Shall we sit?” He dove straight for the stone table in the bamboo grove. He wasn’t tired. He wanted to eavesdrop. “Julian, why did you change as soon as you came back? From the moment you saw Stella Chase, you’ve been acting weird! Are you afraid of your boss, giving her face? Or are you not over her?” Julian went silent. I looked down at wedding dress designs on my phone. Silas had good taste; the styles he picked were stunning. “I don’t like her. She’s just my niece.” “Don’t think I don’t know. Yesterday, you were looking at her photo and you…” Bang. I slammed my hand on the stone table. The two people around the corner looked over in terror. And the man sitting opposite me, Silas, jumped up like he was watching the Super Bowl. “What did Uncle Seven do to Miss Stella’s photo?” he shouted. I glanced at Silas. He shut his mouth instantly. “Stella… Stella…” “Uncle Seven can fail to control his woman, that’s fine. But if even a whisper of gossip that damages the Chase family reputation gets out, my father will clean up the mess for you.” Julian didn’t answer. His eyes fixed on Silas. “Miss Stella, finding common ground with trash like him? You’ve really lowered your standards in three years.” Silas didn’t get angry. He laughed. “Maybe Miss Stella likes my type.” Julian looked at me with certainty. “She’s always been proud and noble. She only likes the strongest. A glorious waste of space like you wouldn’t catch her eye.” Silas raised an eyebrow and nodded. It’s true what my dad says: never speak too confidently. I grabbed Silas and walked back. I showed him a dress on my phone. “This one.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386427”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On my twenty-sixth birthday, I was ready to die. Instead, I unexpectedly received a sketchbook. It was a posthumous belonging of the late genius artist, Julian Vance. Inside, the drawings were of me. When I was sixteen. 1. I held the sketchbook, staring at the signature “Julian Vance” in the corner, lost in thought. This famous genius painter was my high school classmate, same graduating year. But in my memory, we barely interacted. The last I heard of him was on the news, about that plane crash. This was his belongings, yet it was sent to me. Strange. I glanced at the flickering candles on my birthday cake. Originally, I planned to blow them out and end it all. Now… Whatever. A few minutes won’t change anything. I opened the sketchbook. There were a lot of what looked like doodles. Minimalist strokes, but heavy with oppression. A shattered moon, a cracked crystal ball, twisted forests. I vaguely remembered reading a post about Julian, saying this genius artist suffered from mental health issues since he was a teenager, which was why he rarely appeared in public. In high school, he was indeed quiet and withdrawn. But because he had a beautiful face, he was still the topic of many conversations. I flipped through the pages absent-mindedly. One second I was wondering if this was sent to the wrong person, the next I stopped on a page. It was a sketch of a girl lying on a windowsill. Face scrunched up, looking like she carried the weight of the world. Despite the simple strokes, I recognized her instantly— That was high school me. Below it, a small line of text— “She died by the window for three days.” I froze. 2. I had a severe cold once in high school. Because I was literally studying by a “cold window” in the dead of winter. I opened the window to let the freezing wind keep me awake. And memorized chemistry formulas in the icy draft. I had sworn to redeem myself from the shame of getting a 24 on my last chemistry test, so I crammed for three days before finals. The result was glorious—I caught a fever right before the exam. It was the most tragic exam of my life. While my classmates were scribbling furiously in the exam hall, I was hooked up to an IV drip in the hospital. The more I thought about it, the more unwilling I felt. So, while on the drip, I wrote an 800-word essay about my tragic experience and DM’d it to the official “Person of the Year” account on Instagram. I typed until I saw stars, only for my mom to snatch my phone away. She read my essay, deeply moved, and then told me that account was a fake bot. I was stunned, then wailed until I passed out. Later, my dad heard about it. Touched by my dedication, he took my essay to the principal and begged for a makeup exam. When I heard the news, I cried again. Because I had forgotten everything I memorized. 3. What a vivid sixteen. I chuckled involuntarily, but my smile vanished when I glanced at the family portrait on the desk. My gaze returned to the drawing, confusion rising again. Why would Julian draw me? I looked at the angle in the sketch and remembered the Art Building was directly opposite my classroom. So, I just happened to be in his line of sight? I flipped to the next page. This time, Julian’s style changed. He drew a four-panel comic with a black gel pen. The strokes were extremely casual. In each panel, a tiny figure was sneaking food into her mouth in various secretive postures. Hiding behind a textbook, bending down pretending to pick something up, covering a yawn while popping a candy. This time, there was only one word below— “Tsk.” Hm? What does that mean? Disdain? Come on, who doesn’t need a little sustenance during class? We were high school students, surviving on caffeine and hope from 6 AM to 11 PM! 4. Intrigued, I flipped further. Several consecutive pages followed this comic format. Me dozing off in class, staring out the window in a daze, sneaking a novel under the desk, scratching my head over a test paper. The chibi figures had a weirdly comical vibe, like reading a manga. As I looked, I suddenly realized something. Wait, don’t art students have classes? How did he have time to observe others? And this observation seemed to have become his hobby. I kept flipping. Below a series of drawings of me laughing in various ways, a line of small text appeared— “How can she be so happy?” I paused. Looking at those words, even though the writer wasn’t there, I could almost hear his tone. Not mockery, not sarcasm, just pure confusion. I wasn’t completely oblivious to Julian back then. Not long after freshman year started, rumors spread about a beautiful boy in the art class. Yes, beautiful. Being the nosy person I was, when it was our class’s turn for hallway duty, I swapped shifts specifically to check the art class. Just to openly see how beautiful he really was. There were many artistic guys and girls, but Julian still stood out. I saw him instantly. That silhouette by the window. When he turned to look, the light from the window grazed his eyes, turning them amber. Summer hadn’t faded, yet he was as cold as a handful of winter snow. Smelling of butterflies. I was dazed for a second. Because I witnessed the embodiment of male beauty. The impact of that face on my teenage self lasted a long time. To this day, I still remember asking my mom at the dinner table if she could sponsor my plastic surgery trip to Korea after she won at Mahjong. She didn’t even look up. She just told me to get lost. 5. So Julian, someone so beautiful, wasn’t easily happy either? Remembering the rumors about his mental illness, I pulled out my phone and searched his name. The first result was the news of his death in the plane crash. My fingers trembled, and I scrolled past it. I found his bio. His father was a local tycoon, his mother a professor at a prestigious art college. With such a background, his life should have been comfortable. At the bottom was a link titled: “Genius Painter’s Mental Illness: The Hidden Truth…” I clicked it. A wall of text explained that his businessman father was rarely home, and his professor mother controlled him strictly from a young age—high-pressure training, harsh criticism, etc. The comments section had alleged insiders claiming Julian was locked in a dark room if his drawings weren’t good enough, causing childhood trauma. Online info is hard to verify, but combined with those strange drawings, maybe Julian really had depressive episodes. I went back to the sketchbook. This time, the drawing showed me standing gloomily in front of a microphone, holding a piece of paper, with a glistening-spectacled old man standing behind me with his hands behind his back. I squinted. If I’m not mistaken, that’s my high school principal, Mr. Xie. Dead memories suddenly attacked me. That was the most humiliating detention self-reflection of my student life. Bar none. 6. In high school, we had three afternoon periods, the last being study hall. My stomach was weak back then. I had the runs twice a day. My grandma often scolded my parents, saying it was because they didn’t cook for me when I was little. My parents claimed the culprit was spicy strips. I didn’t dare speak amidst the chaos. Because only I knew the real killers were the 50-cent street snacks and junk food. Anyway, study hall was usually used by me to solve my physiological needs. To offset the guilt of skipping study hall, I decided to absorb some literary culture even on the toilet. So I always brought a classic novel. That day, it was The Catcher in the Rye. I read a particularly sad part and, thinking of my own late grandmother, started bawling in the stall. I heard water running outside, but didn’t pay attention. Soon after, hurried footsteps approached, followed by the booming voice of the Dean of Students, aka “The Exterminator”— “Student, what’s wrong in there? Are you okay?” I was so scared my hand shook, and the book dropped to the floor.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386426”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

During the hardest, poorest year of my life, I intentionally crushed two of my fingers in a factory machine to pay for my grandmother’s $30,000 surgery. The factory owner frowned, his face etched with genuine pain, and offered me $80,000 in compensation. Guilt-ridden, I only accepted the $30,000 I needed. Years passed. Grandma has long since left this world. Then I saw the news trending on X (Twitter). That factory had burned to the ground. The owner died of a “heart attack.” His wife vanished without a trace. Their twelve-year-old son was sent to foster care. Looking at the helpless, terrified eyes on my screen, I poured the pills I was about to swallow down the drain. Fine… let’s live one more time. For the sake of that thirty grand. 1 Even after all these years, whenever I look at my severed fingers, a wave of guilt washes over me. But if I went back, I know I’d do it again. Because back then, I truly had nowhere else to turn. Grandma found me by a dumpster in a snowstorm. If not for her, I would have frozen to death on that bitter night. She got stomach cancer. The doctor said surgery and follow-up treatment would cost at least $80,000. We sold everything—our dilapidated studio apartment, the worthless furniture—everything we had. It only amounted to $50,000. We were still short $30,000. “Don’t treat it, Tara. I’ve lived long enough. I can’t let you sleep on the streets for me,” she said. I shook my head. “I’d rather sleep on the streets than live without you, Grandma. We… we have to treat it.” Grandma held me in her arms, her sighs mixed with sobs. We cried together. It was a desperate, freezing night. We both knew that $30,000 was an astronomical figure for us. Where could we possibly scrape that together? Grandma had no family. She only had me. But I… I didn’t have the money to save her. However, at nineteen, I had infinite guts and courage to face any difficulty! When I shoved my fingers into the rapidly spinning gears, the pain nearly made me black out. But in the panicked eyes of my coworkers, I saw hope. Grandma could be saved! It was the only door I could open for her. 2 The factory owner, Mr. Miller, was a good man. By the time he rushed to the hospital, my hand was already bandaged. He squatted down, wanting to touch my hand but looking helpless, not knowing where to start. Finally, all he could say was a heavy sigh full of heartache: “Child, you’re so young. What will you do now…?” I turned my head away, not daring to meet his eyes. I wasn’t a good kid. I didn’t deserve his sincere pity. His wife, Mrs. Miller, came to take care of me personally. She handled everything. She gently combed my messy hair. She cut fruit into small pieces, warmed them up, and fed me bit by bit. It was the first time I felt that kind of delicate, maternal tenderness. It was completely different from how Grandma cared for me. A coworker who came to visit whispered a warning: “Be careful. This is a honey trap. They’re being nice so they can pay you less later.” I was instantly on guard. I tried to reject their kindness. But they continued to care for me, both physically and emotionally, ignoring my deliberate coldness. After I was discharged, Mr. and Mrs. Miller drove me home. Grandma held my hand, missing two fingers, and wept silently. For a long time, she couldn’t say a word, her whole body trembling with sobs. In that moment, I started to regret using this method to get money. The Millers were wiping tears too. Our home was bare walls. Grandma looked jaundiced, clearly very ill. They took out $80,000 in cash and stacked it neatly on the table. Grandma stood up in a panic, waving her hands, terrified and unsure of what to say. She could only look at me in silent distress. “This is the factory’s compensation for Tara. Please take it. The factory will cover future medical bills too,” Mr. Miller said. I lowered my head in shame. This compensation far exceeded my expectations. I had consulted a lawyer, and the amount he quoted was far less than what Mr. Miller offered. And this was just a small factory. The kind where the boss had to go out and make sales calls himself every day. Every penny was hard-earned. I needed money, but… I couldn’t be conscienceless enough to take the extra. Even though I wasn’t sure if the current me had a conscience left. “It’s too much. I can’t take this much.” Mrs. Miller patted my head and said softly, “Child, don’t be shy. The road ahead is long. Take this money and learn a trade to support yourself.” I looked down, unable to wipe away my tears or speak, just stubbornly shaking my head. I only took $30,000. I resolutely pushed the rest back to them. Grandma looked at the $30,000 I kept in shock. Thirty! It was thirty thousand! A number so painfully familiar to her. The old lady looked confused, shocked, and then… a flash of heartbroken realization crossed her eyes. No one else knew why Grandma suddenly burst into loud wails. Only I kept my head down, afraid to look into their eyes. I was afraid to see my own despicable, shameful, ugly reflection in their pupils. In the end, the Millers couldn’t beat my stubbornness. I practically kicked them out with a cold face. I threw the $50,000 back at them. I knew I was being rude, but I really didn’t know how else to refuse such warm kindness. Grandma cried all night. No one was sadder than her. I just regretted not hiding my intentions better; Grandma figured it out instantly. The next day, we packed up and moved out of that dilapidated apartment and into the hospital. We said goodbye to that home forever. My only home with Grandma. I had no home left, but I still had Grandma. With Grandma, I still had a home. 3 Grandma’s surgery went smoothly. But after being discharged, we had nowhere to go. We set up a tent under a bridge. Renting an apartment or staying in a motel cost too much. Every penny had to be spent wisely. I had no idea how much follow-up treatment would cost. I could only cut expenses as much as possible. Many times, I regretted not taking that $50,000. But I knew clearly that if I went back in time, I still wouldn’t take it. If I took it, the weight on my spine would keep me bent forever. After two rounds of chemo, Grandma’s body clearly couldn’t take the drafty bridge anymore. We moved into a cheap basement room in an alley. Winter arrived. It was freezing. I found a job delivering food via DoorDash. I took care of Grandma while working like a tireless machine. In between, I picked up odd jobs at nightclubs—promoting drinks, being an atmosphere girl. I tried everything. As long as it paid. That was the closest I ever came to falling into the abyss. I saw countless ways to make quick, dirty money. Reason pulled me back in the end. If I truly fell, Grandma would rather die than accept treatment bought with that money. The Millers visited us once during that time. I didn’t even know how he went to the trouble of finding our address. He said, “Tara, actually, you can come back to work at the factory. We’ll move you to an easier position.” My nails dug deep into my palms. Stubborn and hostile, I said, “Easier positions definitely don’t pay well. Are you going to charitably inflate my wages?” He nodded without hesitation. I didn’t appreciate it. “But I don’t need it. Are you pitying us? I can take care of Grandma just fine on my own.” The couple opened and closed their mouths, looking heartbroken, but said nothing more. Grandma seemed afraid of something, clumsily waving her hands to refuse: “Our Tara isn’t going back to work. Thank you, really, thank you.” She rubbed my frostbitten, stubby fingers, terror in her eyes. The Millers left with heavy sighs, looking back three times with every step. I whispered at their backs, “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” Forgive my rudeness, forgive my ugly, dark heart. All my strong disguises were supported by despicableness. I wasn’t a good person. At least, I didn’t feel like one then. Grandma cried too. “Grandma is dragging you down, Tara. I’m an old useless thing, how can I burden a child like this?” I turned around fearfully and hugged her tight. “Don’t say that! I only have you, Grandma. You get better, and we will be okay. We will get better.” But would we? Looking at Grandma’s sallow face, a seed of helpless despair was planted in my heart. Grandma didn’t speak. The tears soaking my sleeve silently told a story. Drop after drop, endless tears. She suffered too much. How could I let her leave without enjoying a single day of happiness? Absolutely not. But that night, a plastic bag inexplicably appeared at our door. On top were two cans of nutritional milk powder for seniors. Underneath was a neat stack of $50,000. Fifty. Another sensitive number. I knew who it was immediately. I called Mr. Miller, but no one answered. Grandma touched my rough, frozen hands. “Tara, stop calling. Take it. Later… we’ll find a way to pay them back.” I stared at Grandma. Her cloudy eyes were filled with heartbreaking pain. I nodded, turning my head to let the tears flow into the shadows. That was the last bit of endurance and stubbornness of my youth. 4 That winter was the fullest and most exhausting year of my life. Delivering food by day, working at the club by night. I was so tired I could fall asleep sitting anywhere. It was exhausting, but the decent monthly income still left me worried sick. Grandma’s chemo every three weeks. Medical bills, nutrition costs—these were expenses I couldn’t skimp on. The doctor said if she ate well and kept her nutrition up, the side effects would be less severe. During that time, every extra bite of rice or sip of soup Grandma took made me happy for a long time. As if she wasn’t eating food, but life points. Four rounds of chemo ended. Time for a routine checkup. I was on a delivery run when the oncologist called. “Your grandmother’s response to chemo isn’t good. The scans show the tumor… has metastasized to the liver and lungs.” Crowds streamed past me. I squatted on the street corner and wailed helplessly. Why? Why did I try so hard only to face this result? Could the god of luck not spare a single glance for us? I got off work early that day. I secretly went to see the doctor first. The follow-up treatment plan was just heavy sighs of unbearable helplessness. The doctor was a young man. He said, “Take Grandma home, Tara. Don’t spend any more money in the hospital. Let her eat whatever she wants.” I knew he meant well, but I didn’t want to hear a word of it. It felt like the Grim Reaper reading a death sentence. I couldn’t accept it. I still believed in miracles. “If we just go home like this, what will happen to Grandma?” “It will be very painful. She might get fevers, lose mobility, lose appetite, or develop ascites,” the doctor’s voice got quieter. He didn’t want to look me in the eye anymore, looking down at his screen pretending to be busy. “What if I insist on treatment?” I wasn’t giving up. The doctor looked up at me steadily, lowering his voice. “Even if you insist… your grandmother will still go through all of that.” Hearing this, my tears burst forth uncontrollably. I tried to dry my eyes in the stairwell before seeing Grandma, but my small eyes couldn’t hold that many tears. I wiped for half an hour, and they still wouldn’t stop. A middle-aged man smoking nearby looked equally worried. Seeing me cry, he numbly handed me a crumpled tissue. “Eyes hurt if you cry too long. Wipe them.” His exhaustion made me wonder if he also had family in treatment. Everyone suffers. Each has their own suffering. So… let’s try to make the last leg of Grandma’s journey a little sweeter. Maybe because I came back early today, I saw Mrs. Miller. A thermos was on Grandma’s bedside table. I walked in, and the room smelled of chicken soup. A very familiar smell. I said thickly through my congestion, “Thank you, Mrs. Miller. You don’t need to come tomorrow. Thank you for visiting Grandma all this time.” This time, it was sincere gratitude. I wasn’t an idiot. I should have known those exquisite, delicious meals weren’t takeout. Takeout wouldn’t make Grandma dodge my eyes. Takeout didn’t come in high-end thermal lunch boxes.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386425”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel