I will die at 2:40 AM today. The killer is a man wearing a black hood. Calling the police, hiding, running away, offering money—nothing works. He finds me every time with uncanny precision, then cleanly ends my life. Trapped in the 31st loop of this death day, I finally manage to rip off his hood during our struggle. But under the hood, the face I see is my own. An older, wearier version of me, aged by over a decade. He looks at me, his voice hoarse: “Chen Mo, get out of the way.” 1 My name is Chen Mo. I am an incredibly ordinary convenience store clerk working the night shift. After graduating from college and failing to find a “real” job, I ended up here, in this suburban 24-hour store, just to make ends meet. No family, no friends, not even a pet. That’s probably why no one has noticed I’ve died thirty times. The first time I woke up in the loop, I thought it was a dream, until the searing pain of a blade slicing my skin pulled me back to reality. The second time, I tried to call the police, but the landline was dead, and my cell signal mysteriously vanished. The third time, I hid behind the shelves, but the robber found me effortlessly, as if he knew exactly where I’d be. The fourth time, I grabbed the biggest wine bottle I could find to fight back. He dodged it easily, and the blade pierced my heart just the same. Ten times, twenty times, thirty times… every death was despairingly real. I tried everything: running out the front door only to be intercepted, hiding in the bathroom and being dragged out, playing dead only to be stabbed anyway. I even piled all the cash on the counter. He ignored the money and killed me. The robber’s movements were too precise for an ordinary criminal. He knew every inch of the store like the back of his hand. It was as if he had rehearsed this countless times. This wasn’t a robbery; it was an execution. Why me? Why this store? Why must I die over and over again, only to wake up standing in front of the freezer? Tonight, for the 31st loop, I decided to change my strategy. I would memorize every detail about him. Every movement, every habit. If I can’t stop my death, at least I need to know why I’m dying. 2 Time ticked away. I stood by the freezer, forcing myself to be calm. The loop gave me one advantage: I could predict the immediate future. The robber would enter through the back door, take five steps to the corner of the aisle, then eight steps to the register, and lunges straight for me. He walked with a slight drag in his right foot—maybe an old injury, or just a habit. He always held the knife the same way: left hand in his pocket, right hand holding the blade, edge down—a classic ambush stance. He never spoke. He never took the money. His target was always, only, me. I took out the store’s inventory notebook and quickly jotted down these observations, even though I knew the writing would vanish in the next loop. 2:39 AM. I quietly shifted my position, standing to the side of the register instead of directly behind it. 2:40 AM. A faint noise from the back door… he’s here. I held my breath, pretending to organize the shelves while watching the back entrance out of the corner of my eye. The shadow arrived on schedule. Familiar footsteps, familiar path. But this time, I noticed more. There seemed to be a scar on his left wrist, visible only when his sleeve shifted. He was about my height and build, but his movements were sharper, more decisive. As he approached the counter and realized I wasn’t in my usual spot, he paused for a split second. Now! I grabbed the fire extinguisher I had prepared and sprayed it directly at him. He clearly didn’t expect this. He hesitated for a moment, but then reacted with shocking speed. He dodged sideways, evading most of the spray. That wasn’t a normal human reaction time! Still, the extinguisher bought me a few precious seconds. I dropped it and grabbed the mop next to the counter, charging at him. This was the first time I initiated the attack instead of waiting to die. Amidst the white powder, we grappled. I could feel his strength and technique far surpassed mine. But I had resolve—fueled by the anger and experience of thirty deaths. During a dodge, I saw his sleeve slip again. The scar was clearer now. It was a surgical scar, located precisely over the radial artery. Why did that detail feel so familiar? Before I could process it, the robber regrouped. The blade came at me again. This time, my death was more painful than ever, but I was closer to the truth than ever before. 3 I opened my eyes in front of the freezer again. But this time, the fear was gone. I had a plan. I had a direction. 2:37 AM. I walked straight to the security room and pulled up the camera feeds. I had ignored this before. The store had six cameras; maybe they caught something I missed. The room was tiny, just an old monitor split into six grainy screens. It was enough. I fast-forwarded through yesterday’s footage and noticed something strange. Starting at 2:00 AM, the feed would occasionally jitter or show static, like signal interference. Even stranger, at 2:40 AM, the moment the robber entered, all cameras blacked out for exactly one second. That couldn’t be a coincidence. I switched to the live feed. 2:39 AM. The back door camera caught a shadow lingering outside. He was here. I picked up the landline in the security room and dialed the police. “Hello? South City Convenience Store. A robbery is in progress. Please send someone immediately!” There was a second of silence, then a calm female voice: “What is your specific address?” I rattled off the address while staring at the screen. The figure had pried open the back door and was slipping inside. “Police will arrive in five minutes. Please stay safe.” Five minutes? I didn’t have five minutes. Watching the robber get closer on the screen, I had an idea. There was a panic button in the security room connected to the local precinct. I smashed the red button. A piercing alarm shrieked through the store. On the monitor, the robber flinched, clearly startled. But instead of running, he moved faster. He knew he was running out of time. I grabbed the security baton and hid behind the door. The moment he burst into the room, I swung with everything I had. Whack! The baton hit his shoulder. He stumbled back two steps. First time I had the upper hand. While he was off balance, I swung again, hitting his head. The black hood loosened, revealing a tuft of graying hair. My heart pounded. Finally, I would see the face of the butcher who had tortured me for thirty loops. Seizing his moment of instability, I lunged forward and ripped the hood off. It was a face I knew intimately, yet weathered by time. It was me, but fifteen years older! Sunken eyes, exhausted gaze, a scar on the forehead… even the mole on the chin was identical. The future me looked at me with grim determination: “Don’t get in the way, Chen Mo!” His voice was hoarse, but it was undeniably mine, just worn down by years. I stepped back in shock. “You… you’re me? Why do you want to kill me?” “Our daughter has a rare blood disease. If I don’t get the money… Chen Xi… won’t make it!” Daughter? I don’t even have a girlfriend. How could I have a daughter? Before I could ask, the future me raised the knife, his eyes filled with despair. “I’m sorry. But this is the only way she lives.” As the blade pierced my chest, my brain was still reeling. The robber was my future self. 4 Waking up in front of the freezer again, my heart hammered—not from fear, but shock. The name Chen Xi echoed in my mind. My daughter? My future daughter? Why would my future self go to such lengths, even killing his past self, to save her? 2:20 AM. I sat at the register and opened the store computer. I couldn’t just wait to die. I needed to know more. I searched “Chen Xi” + “Rare Blood Disease.” Too many results. I searched “Extremely expensive blood disease treatments.” Several possibilities popped up. The most severe was a rare genetic condition called “Heiman-Faber Syndrome.” Less than 500 confirmed cases worldwide. Treatment costs could easily exceed a million dollars. Was this it? But even so, why kill his past self? Robbing a convenience store for a few thousand bucks wouldn’t solve a million-dollar problem. Unless… it wasn’t just about money. I searched “Time Travel” + “Ethical Issues” + “Paradoxes,” skimming through sci-fi and physics discussions. 2:39 AM. I shut down the computer and stood behind the counter, waiting for him. This time, I wouldn’t run. I wouldn’t fight. I was going to talk. When the black figure entered from the back, I spoke immediately: “Chen Xi has Heiman-Faber Syndrome, doesn’t she?” His steps faltered, but he recovered quickly and kept coming. “I know who you are. I know why you’re here,” I continued. “But killing me won’t help. We should figure this out together.” The future me stopped. Through the hood, I felt his burning gaze. “You know nothing. It’s too late. There is no other way.” “At least tell me the truth!” I shouted. “Why this store? Why tonight? Why must I die?” He didn’t answer, just kept advancing. I noticed he occasionally clutched his chest while walking. It wasn’t just his daughter; he was sick too. “You’re ill too, aren’t you?” I probed. That stopped him. He pulled off the hood. That face—so like mine, yet so full of pain—stared back. “Listen, past me. There are things you will never understand unless you live through what I have,” he said. “Chen Xi needs a bone marrow transplant. But our marrow doesn’t match anymore because…” He suddenly grabbed his chest, doubling over in pain. I stepped forward to help, but he instantly raised the knife, warning me back. “Because of what?” I pressed. “Because time travel changed me. It changed everything.” He gritted his teeth, pulled the hood back on, and charged. As I died this time, my mind was filled with heartache for a daughter I had never met. 5 Waking up again, confusion was gone. Only resolve remained. I had to find a third way. A way for Chen Xi to live without sacrificing either “me.” 1:30 AM. I left the register and started scouring the store for clues. Why did he choose this store? Why this time? There had to be a reason I missed. I checked every shelf, every drawer. I even lifted the floor tiles under the counter. 2:20 AM. Deep in a locker in the staff break room, I found a small safe. I had never seen this safe before. It wasn’t standard store equipment. I tried every code I could think of: my birthday, the last four digits of my ID, even Chen Xi’s initials. Nothing worked. 2:35 AM. I gave up on the safe and returned to the counter, ready to face him again. Maybe I could get more info tonight. 2:40 AM. The footsteps arrived. In this struggle, I noticed he seemed more desperate, his movements rougher. During a grapple, a worn locket fell from his collar. I seized the chance, grabbed the locket, and backed away. He panicked, reaching for it, but I was too fast. I opened it. Inside was a blurry photo of a little girl. She was about six or seven, with my eyes and nose, smiling innocently. Chen Xi. On the back of the photo, a date was scratched in with a fingernail: April 23, 2035. I looked up in shock. “You’re from ten years in the future?!” He didn’t deny it. Painfully, he said, “That’s the day she died. Unless we change the past.” Died? Before I could ask more, he snatched the locket back and drove the knife into my chest. This time, death came with a terrifying realization. He wasn’t just trying to save her life. He was trying to undo a tragedy that had already happened. In subsequent loops, I tried leaving messages. I taped a note under the counter: I know about Chen Xi. I want to help. Please don’t kill me. Let’s work together. 2:40 AM. He came in, saw the note, ripped it up without hesitation, and killed me. Next time, I wrote on the break room mirror in lipstick: For Chen Xi, we must cooperate. He ignored it and rushed the counter. I left a video message on the computer screen. He glanced at it, turned it off, and killed me. Why was he so stubborn? Had he tried everything in his timeline and concluded this was the only way? In one loop, I noticed an anomaly. The store lights began to flicker irregularly. Strange, crack-like shadows flashed on the walls. At first, I thought it was the wiring. But I realized it only happened around the time he appeared. Even stranger, the future me seemed to notice it too. Every time the lights flickered, he moved faster, as if racing against time. Was this a warning?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386087”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

To scare off the bullies at my new school, I bluffed and claimed the notorious delinquents from the vocational school next door were my “subordinates.” The bullies didn’t buy it. Cornered, I had no choice but to hail a random blonde-haired thug passing by. “Hey! You see the boss and you don’t even say hello?” The blonde thug stared at me. Five seconds later, he smirked. “Hello, Boss.” 1 This blonde guy was hot, but he looked terrifying. He held a cigarette between his fingers and looked at me. “Boss got herself some new minions?” He curled his finger, signaling the rest of his crew. A group of teenagers with dyed hair and tattoos swarmed around us. They towered over me and the girls bullying me. I was so scared I couldn’t make a sound. The blonde guy smiled at his friends. “Hey, why aren’t you greeting the Boss?” The rainbow-haired delinquents were confused. One of them reacted quickly, shouting, “Hello, Boss!” The blonde guy lifted my bruised arm, inspecting it. “Lost a fight? Was it them?” He looked at Jessica and her friends, his eyes cold. Jessica and Sarah burst into tears and ran away. 2 I turned to flee, but a hand grabbed my arm. “Where are you running to? B-o-s-s?” I didn’t dare look at him. I stared at the ground. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to scare them.” He poked my forehead lightly. “Leave your number. You owe me one.” I pulled out a piece of paper and wrote down a fake number. He pulled out his phone and dialed immediately. “We’re sorry, the number you have reached is not in service…” I apologized frantically. “Sorry! I remembered wrong. That’s my mom’s number.” “Liar. Your mom’s number is disconnected?” I didn’t argue. I wrote my real number. If he calls, I’ll block him. The blonde guy smiled, bending down to look me in the eye. “If you dare block me, I’ll find you at the front gate of Central High.” 3 I was terrified all night. Messing with delinquents meant trouble. Protection money? Forced theft? Forced smoking? My allowance was twenty dollars a week. Ten was my limit. I’d just eat buns for lunch and dinner. Stealing and smoking were out of the question. I’d rather die. The next day at school. My desk was clean. No used pads stuck to it, no cigarette burns. Jessica and Sarah looked at me, then quickly looked away. They were already scary enough. The vocational school thugs were even worse. I really ate a bear’s heart and a leopard’s gall to mess with them. 4 Lunchtime. I didn’t dare leave the school. I bought a bun in the cafeteria. Luckily, I have a small appetite. One bun was enough. Halfway through eating, someone grabbed my hair. Three guys. One was Tyler from my class. He was the one who put cigarette butts on my desk. Tyler sneered, “Jessica and those two idiots actually believed you know Leo. You got guts, huh? Acting like someone actually has your back.” The other two guys were impatient. “Hurry up, the gate’s gonna close.” They dragged me to the internet cafe across the street. Tyler knocked on the counter. “Three computers. This chick is paying.” The guy behind the counter looked up. It was the blonde guy from yesterday. 5 Tyler’s swagger vanished. He lowered his head and mumbled, “Brother Leo.” So he was Leo. The two guys sandwiching me smiled and greeted Leo too. Leo looked at me with a complicated expression. Tyler patted my cheek, laughing. “Man, this chick lied to my classmates yesterday, said you knew her.” Leo didn’t hesitate. “I do.” Tyler: “Huh?” “She’s my Boss.” Tyler was dumbfounded, forcing a smile. “You’re kidding, right Leo? You sure?” Leo walked around the counter and put a cap on my head. “Wait outside.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386086”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

We, the Merfolk, only choose our gender at the age of three hundred. My childhood friend fell for a human girl and chose to become a man. Because I loved him, I chose to become a woman. He laughed at me. “I became a man to marry a wife. You became a woman to marry whom? Surely not me?” I stayed silent, quietly preparing to become the Queen of the Seven Seas. 1 I’ve known Lucian for three hundred years. Finally, we reached the age where we could choose our gender. I swam over to him, excited to discuss choosing our genders together and becoming mates, as we had always planned. But when I found him, he was chatting with a group of friends. “I’ve fallen for a human girl. I’ve decided to become a man.” Lucian sounded happy, his voice full of laughter. “She collects seashells on the beach every day. She’s the most beautiful human I’ve ever seen, completely different from us merfolk. I’m going to go on land and be with her.” His friends sounded shocked. “You’re going to marry a human? What about Luna? Didn’t you two promise to be together since you were fry?” “Don’t you like Luna anymore?” “We were just kids back then. Who takes childhood promises seriously?” Lucian waved his hand dismissively. “I finally understand what love is. Those promises were just childish games.” I froze, hiding behind a coral reef. Our promise, a childish game? One friend pressed him, “Are you sure about this? You’ve known Luna for so long. Are you really going to just abandon her?” Lucian was silent for a moment, then said seriously, “Humans only live a few decades. Merfolk live for a thousand years. I can wait for the human girl to die, then come back and be with Luna. You guys are my friends; don’t tell her.” “That’s messed up, man.” “Don’t call me your friend!” one mermaid spat, clearly disgusted. Lucian ignored them. “Just tell her I went on a long journey. I’ll be back in fifty, sixty years. We’ll pretend this never happened. Luna loves me so much; she won’t suspect a thing.” “You’re going to regret this!” Even his friends were turning their backs on him. I felt like a knife had been twisted in my heart. I was shaking. I didn’t confront him. I just turned and swam away in silence. Three hundred years, and I never really knew Lucian. How pathetic. 2 I hid in my grotto for days, depressed. Two pieces of news reached me. First, the Royal Sea King Clan was holding a Selection for their new King’s Queen. They sent out enchanted conch shells inviting eligible mermaids from all clans to participate. Second, Lucian had chosen to be male. He had gone ashore to pursue the seashell girl. Several merfolk came to check on me, whispering about Lucian’s betrayal, warning me not to be fooled if he came back. They said Lucian made a dashing human man, and the girl was cute. Visually, they were a perfect match. Clinging to a sliver of hope, I swam to the shore near the village where Lucian had gone. From the waves, I saw them walking hand in hand on the beach. Lucian was tall and handsome, standing out among the humans. The girl was petite and lovely. They looked… perfect together. Even though I expected it, seeing it shattered me. The pain was unbearable. I didn’t dare call out to him. I was afraid to hear his voice. I truly didn’t understand. Three hundred years of companionship, a promise to be mates… how could it change so suddenly? Even through the pain, I still loved him. Not long after returning home, in my grief and humiliation, I made my choice. I became a woman. Merfolk gender is determined by the heart. You can’t lie to your own soul. 3 News of my transformation spread quickly. Merfolk are naturally beautiful, androgynous until the change. After the change, the men are striking, and the women are breathtaking. Before the change, I was already considered a beauty. Now, as a woman, I was easily the most beautiful mermaid in our clan. Many clan members looked at me with pity. They all knew Lucian and I were a pair. Now that he had chosen someone else, some took the opportunity to shoot their shot. “Luna, if you’re willing to be with me, I’ll treat you like a queen forever.” “Luna, don’t be sad. You’re so beautiful; Lucian is definitely going to regret this.” “We live for a millennium; that human girl only has a few decades. When he’s had his fun, he’ll come crawling back.” “Yeah, you’re the jewel of our clan. If he doesn’t want you, I do!” “Lucian is blind. You’re way prettier than any human.” “Luna, the Sea King is looking for a Queen. You should go! Forget that scumbag Lucian!” Some flirted, some comforted. I didn’t listen to any of it. Loving Lucian for three centuries… how could I just let it go? But I also knew that the day he fell for that human, “us” was over. His betrayal was agony. I needed time to heal. 4 I spent a month swimming wild with my girlfriends. We explored new reefs, hunted fish, collected rare shells. At night, we floated on the surface, watching the moon. I strung the shells into necklaces and wore them proudly. Thoughts of Lucian came less and less. I was starting to forget him. The Royal Sea King Clan sent a third invitation. They really wanted me at the Selection. Maybe they heard about my beauty? After thinking it over, I decided to accept. I also decided to see Lucian one last time. To kill that last bit of hope. Before leaving for the Royal City, I went to Lucian’s fishing village. I sang a low, haunting melody, a signal only merfolk can hear. Lucian heard it. He looked towards the ocean, shocked. He said goodbye to the girl and dove into the water. “Luna! How did you find me? Who told you?” He was surprised, but quickly composed himself, smiling. “Luna, you became a woman! You’re stunning!” He moved to hug me. I dodged him, smiling silently. “What’s wrong? Mad I left without saying goodbye? I came here to negotiate trade routes with the humans. I’ll come back as soon as I’m done.” Lucian swam circles around me, grinning, making up excuses. He didn’t know I knew his entire plan. “Luna, I became a man to find a wife. You became a woman… to marry whom? Surely not me?” His words were needles in my heart. He knew I loved him. He was twisting the knife on purpose. Lucian didn’t notice my mood. He kept smiling. “Be a good girl and wait for me at home. I’ll be back. Don’t listen to gossip. I’m just here for business.” Still lying. I sneered internally. If he wants to play innocent, I’ll play along. “I know. I’ll wait for you. Come back when you’re done with work.” I forced a smile. Lucian beamed, trying to hug me again. I side-stepped. “I’m going back now. Come home soon.” I turned away, holding back tears, severing the last thread of affection for this dead relationship. Lucian laughed loudly. “Luna, be good and wait! I’ll be back to marry you soon!” I didn’t respond. I dove deep. This shameless, ignorant man was not the Lucian I knew. My sisters were waiting for me. Seeing me return, they swarmed around to comfort me. “Luna, don’t waste tears on that scum. He’s changed.” “Exactly. Forget him. Let’s go to the Royal City. There are plenty of powerful merfolk there.” “Anyone is better than him. He’ll be sorry!” I knew they meant well. I smiled brightly. “Just saying goodbye. We knew each other for three hundred years, after all. From now on, we walk different paths. Let’s go to the Royal City!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386085”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I adjusted a male customer’s tie, and his wife slapped me across the face. “Don’t you know tying a tie is an intimate act meant for a wife?” “Can’t wait to seduce my husband, can you?” “Too bad—he has no taste. Every piece of clothing he buys has to be approved by me.” “Your commission is actually in my hands!” Later, I finished my grassroots internship and returned to corporate headquarters. We ended up partnering with her husband’s company, and I was the client representative. At the gala, the couple’s faces changed. “You… weren’t you just a poor salesgirl? How…” I swirled my red wine, speaking calmly: “Now, your family’s future livelihood is in my hands.” 1 I finished tying Mr. Sterling’s tie and stepped back, satisfied with my work. The dark red striped tie made him look sharper. I smiled. “Mr. Sterling, this tie really suits you. It’s perfect with this dark gray suit.” Mr. Sterling turned in front of the mirror, nodding in approval. “It is nice, Sarah. You always have a good eye.” Just then, a shrill female voice cut through the air— “Well, well, here you are!” I turned to see a well-dressed middle-aged woman storming over, anger written all over her face. I recognized her immediately as Mrs. Sterling. I’d seen her in the store a few times, but her expression today was far from her usual elegance. Before I could react… Slap! A heavy hand struck my face. Pain mixed with ringing in my ears. I clutched my face in shock, momentarily frozen. “Who told you to tie his tie?” “Don’t you know tying a tie is an intimate act meant for a wife?!” Mrs. Sterling glared at me, her voice loud enough for the entire floor to hear. “Can’t wait to seduce my husband, can you?” I was too shocked to speak, stammering out a defense: “Mrs. Sterling, you’ve misunderstood, I was just doing my job…” “Job?” She sneered, scanning the crowd of customers who had stopped to watch. “Look, what a professional ‘job’! Tying a tie for a customer personally, fingers brushing against his neck?” Mr. Sterling seemed frightened by the sudden scene. He tried to calm his wife: “Honey, you misunderstood, Sarah was just helping me choose clothes…” “Shut up!” Mrs. Sterling cut him off sharply, then turned to me, eyes full of disdain. “Too bad—he has no taste. Every piece of clothing he buys has to be approved by me.” “This tie, I don’t like the look of it. Take it off!” My hands trembled slightly. I wanted to help Mr. Sterling remove the tie, but feared touching him would cause a bigger misunderstanding. Embarrassed, Mr. Sterling undid the tie himself and handed it to me. Mrs. Sterling pulled a visibly more expensive designer tie from her bag: “This is what suits him.” She spoke arrogantly, then gave me a meaningful look. “Do you know? Your commission is actually in my hands!” “The person you should be pleasing isn’t him, it’s me.” “Don’t you know how many clothes the Sterling family buys here a year?” I kept my head down, face burning not just from the slap, but from the public humiliation. The store manager ran over, piling on an obsequious smile. “Mrs. Sterling, if there’s anything you’re dissatisfied with, please tell me, we will correct it immediately.” “This girl has terrible taste. The matching is a disaster.” Mrs. Sterling glanced at me with contempt. “Her sales numbers probably come from seducing male customers, don’t they?” I clenched my fists, took a deep breath, and suppressed my anger. Months of sales experience taught me that offending a wealthy wife is scarier than offending ten regular customers. “Sarah is just an intern; she doesn’t know the rules,” the manager said, smiling apologetically. “I’ll arrange for a senior stylist to serve you immediately.” Mrs. Sterling raised an eyebrow triumphantly, as if she’d won a victory. Mr. Sterling finally stole a glance at me, seemingly apologetic, but quickly looked down again. “Don’t let it happen again.” Mrs. Sterling dropped these words and dragged Mr. Sterling toward the VIP area. The manager turned to me and whispered, “Bear with it. This couple is a major partner for headquarters.” I touched my burning cheek, watching their retreating figures, and murmured: “Does being a headquarters partner mean you can be this arrogant and abusive?” 2 The next day, as soon as the store opened, a group of fashionable women surrounded Mrs. Sterling as they walked in. All of them dripped with jewelry, radiating the aura of luxury. Mrs. Sterling spotted me immediately, a sneer flashing in her eyes, and deliberately raised her voice. “Ladies, that’s her! The salesgirl I told you about, the one who’s been eyeing my husband.” My hand froze in mid-air, and the shirt I was organizing fell back onto the rack. Other colleagues lowered their heads, pretending not to hear, while only the manager hurried over: “Welcome, ladies. How can I help you today?” Mrs. Sterling waved the manager away. “Not you. We’re here specifically to see her.” She walked straight toward me, followed by four or five women of similar age, their eyes sharp enough to poke holes in me. “This is the homewrecker counter girl I told you about.” Mrs. Sterling pointed at me. “You all need to be careful. Don’t let your husbands get snatched by this fox.” “Yesterday, my husband was buying clothes, and she was throwing herself at him while I wasn’t looking.” A woman wearing a huge gemstone ring looked me up and down, scoffing: “With those looks? You’re too sensitive, Cindy.” “You don’t know. The ones who look innocent are the best actors.” Mrs. Sterling pulled a stack of pink receipts from her bag. “Look, I checked my husband’s spending records. He’s been here every month recently, and every time, she served him.” “Oh, interesting.” Another woman with a ponytail leaned in. “Every month. No wonder you’re vigilant.” I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. Those receipts were indeed Mr. Sterling’s, but we never had any inappropriate relationship! He was just one of the few regular customers I had! “Mrs. Sterling, you’ve misunderstood.” I struggled to maintain a professional smile. “Mr. Sterling is our VIP client. The system automatically assigns returning customers to the sales associate who served them last.” “Listen to that—” Mrs. Sterling clapped sarcastically. “Such a smooth talker. VIP client? More like your VIP target, right?” Other customers in the store looked over, some even taking out phones to record. Colleagues hid far away, except for the manager standing nearby, looking grim. “You know, my husband often mentions a project with a public company recently. He might even get promoted.” Mrs. Sterling walked up to me, lowering her voice deliberately: “Do you think hooking up with him will get you to the top?” I knew Mr. Sterling was a partner of our brand, but besides normal sales reception, I never had any improper thoughts. I shook my head helplessly. “Too bad.” Mrs. Sterling raised her eyebrows. “Good things like that won’t fall to a small fry like you!” The ponytail woman put a hand on Mrs. Sterling’s shoulder. “Don’t be mad. We’re here to spend money today, right?” She turned to me. “Since you like serving people so much, serve us well.” Mrs. Sterling seemed to get the signal. She pulled a hundred-dollar bill from her bag and threw it on the floor in front of everyone. “Pick it up,” she said coldly. “That’s your tip for today.” The air seemed to freeze. The store was so quiet I could hear breathing. I looked down at the money, ears ringing. Since starting in sales, I had never been humiliated like this. I took a deep breath, looked up, and met her eyes: “Our store does not accept tips in this manner. Please respect every service staff member.” “What did you say? What is a poor intern being arrogant about?” Mrs. Sterling leaned in. “Mrs. Sterling, your company just won the bid for the ‘Underprivileged Schools Uniform’ project last month. If you want to maintain a philanthropist image, choosing to throw money in a luxury store with cameras might not be the best move.” Mrs. Sterling’s face turned red instantly. “You—” “Mrs. Sterling!” The manager suddenly stepped forward, bent down to pick up the money, and handed it back to her. “I’m sorry, we do have a rule against employees accepting tips.” “If you are here to shop today, we welcome you.” “If you are just here to cause trouble… please forgive us for not being able to serve you.” Mrs. Sterling’s eyes widened. “You dare kick me out?” “Not kicking you out.” The manager smiled, voice firm. “Just hoping you can respect our work environment. This sales associate is our top performer and has never crossed any lines with your husband.” I looked at the manager in surprise, not expecting him to stand up for me at such a moment. Mrs. Sterling’s friends looked at each other, seeming to find the situation awkward. The ponytail woman gently pulled Mrs. Sterling’s arm. “Forget it. This store doesn’t look like it has anything good anyway. Let’s go next door.” Mrs. Sterling glared at me viciously: “Just you wait. I can make this store close down immediately!” She shook off her friend’s arm and led the group of women away, leaving a room full of whispering customers and relieved staff. “Are you okay?” the manager asked me. I shook my head, hands still trembling slightly. 3 … When Mr. Sterling appeared at the store entrance, I was bending over to organize the pile of clothes Mrs. Sterling and her friends had messed up. Seeing him looking around nervously, I instinctively took a step back. “Miss Sarah.” He walked quickly to me, lowering his voice. “I’m really sorry, my wife is…” I waved my hand, trying to end this awkward topic. “No need to explain, Mr. Sterling.” But he insisted, “No, my wife is just… Sigh, I came to apologize. I’ll take all the clothes I tried on yesterday.” Mr. Sterling pulled a credit card from his inner jacket pocket, fingers trembling slightly as he handed it to me. The manager noticed the commotion and looked at me inquiringly. I nodded to signal everything was fine. “Is this okay?” I whispered. “Mrs. Sterling will be even angrier if she finds out.” Mr. Sterling smiled bitterly. “It’s fine. I really like these outfits.” I took the card and led him to the register. Mr. Sterling stood aside, looking like he wanted to say something. After paying, he suddenly took a gold-rimmed business card from his pocket. “Um… if you have any difficulties in the future…” His voice was so soft it was almost inaudible. “Feel free to contact me anytime.” Just as I was about to refuse the card, a blinding flash went off. I squinted to see Mrs. Sterling storming into the store with her phone raised, followed by the same group of arrogant women. “Caught you!” She strode in. “I knew you two were up to something!” Mr. Sterling’s face turned pale instantly. “Don’t talk nonsense, I was just…” “Just what?” Mrs. Sterling snatched the card from my hand and tore it to pieces. “Giving your contact info to a mistress?” “Ma’am, you misunderstood!” I tried to explain. “Mr. Sterling was just…” Before I could finish, a sharp pain hit me— Mrs. Sterling grabbed my hair, pulling so hard my vision went black. “Slut! Seducing my husband and acting righteous?” she screamed. Customers backed away in fear, some taking out phones to record. Mrs. Sterling’s friends also raised their phones, aiming at the scene. “Stop!” The manager rushed forward to pull Mrs. Sterling away but was shoved aside by the ponytail woman. “Stay out of this! This is a family matter!” Mr. Sterling stood by, lips trembling, unable to say a word. I struggled to break free from Mrs. Sterling’s grip, but she held onto my hair like a maniac. “Look at this vixen!” Mrs. Sterling shouted at her friend’s phone. “Daring to seduce my husband! I’ll make sure you can’t work on this street ever again!” Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably, not from pain, but from the unprecedented humiliation. Mall security arrived but was surrounded by Mrs. Sterling’s friends. Just then, two police officers rushed into the store. The manager had called them when things started going south. The lead officer grabbed Mrs. Sterling’s wrist. “Stop! Physical assault in a public place. You are suspected of intentional injury.” The officer’s voice allowed no argument. Mrs. Sterling panicked, struggling to look back. “Husband! Richard! Say something!” But Mr. Sterling had already hidden behind the fitting rooms, only showing half his head, eyes dodging. When the police took Mrs. Sterling away, he didn’t even dare to follow, just standing there rubbing his hands. When the store finally calmed down, I slumped behind the counter, shaking all over. The manager handed me a cup of warm water, whispering: “It’s okay now. I’ve asked security for the surveillance footage.” I looked toward where Mr. Sterling had stood— He had slipped away in the chaos, leaving only a crumpled business card lying lonely on the floor. I bent down to pick it up and found a line of small writing in pencil on the back: [Contact me if you have any trouble.] The handwriting was so shaky it was barely legible. The manager sighed, took the card, and threw it in the trash. “It’s better to stay away from people like that.” 4 Three days after the incident, I thought everything would settle down since Mrs. Sterling had been taken away by the police for investigation. However, things spiraled completely out of control. I first realized something was wrong on my way to work. On the bus, several young girls kept glancing at me and whispering. I subconsciously touched my face, thinking my makeup was smudged. It wasn’t until one girl pointed at her phone screen that I heard their conversation. “That’s her, the counter girl who seduces rich men.” “Looks decent, didn’t think she was so calculating.” My blood ran cold. I opened my phone, and the social media homepage was filled with the video Mrs. Sterling uploaded. The edited clip only showed Mr. Sterling handing me the card and me taking it. The caption was in glaring large font: [Luxury Mall Vixen Seduces My Husband Right in Front of Me!] When I arrived at the mall, the store hadn’t opened yet, but people were already looking in. I recognized one as a customer who had watched the drama yesterday, now filming me with her phone. “Look, that’s the woman,” she told her companion. “She had that husband bewitched.” I walked quickly into the store, hands shaking as I turned on the lights. Stuck on the glass door was a note: [Mistress Shop, Shameless!] The manager arrived earlier than usual, frowning at the note. “Don’t worry.” He tore it off and crumpled it. “It’ll blow over.” I nodded, holding back tears. But facts proved we underestimated the power of cyberbullying. At noon, several young people rushed into the store, pretending to try clothes, but wrote insults on the fitting room walls with lipstick. In the afternoon, a middle-aged woman brought her daughter to the counter, pointing at my nose and scolding: “Women like you ruin families! My daughter is getting married soon, terrified of meeting someone like you!” The manager explained time and again, to no avail. By evening, someone threw a bag of trash into the store, foul liquid splashing onto the new spring arrivals. “I’m sorry.” Cleaning up the mess, I said to the manager. “For bringing so much trouble to the store.” The manager shook his head, not stopping his work. “Don’t overthink it. The heat will die down in a few days.” But a week passed, and the heat didn’t drop; it intensified. Mrs. Sterling’s friends took turns posting on social media. They embellished stories of how I “seduced” Mr. Sterling. Someone even dug up photos of me at other malls, captioned: [Professional Mistress, Targets Rich Men.] Even worse, influencers smelled traffic and came to investigate, recording videos at the store entrance: “Exposing how luxury sales associates seduce customers’ husbands…” Mall security added guards, but couldn’t stop the endless stream of “visitors.” The store was now almost empty of real customers, business plummeted. Colleagues’ looks went from sympathy to resentment. After all, their commissions were affected too. Friday morning, I stood before the mirror and found a few gray hairs at my temples. In just a few days, I seemed to have aged ten years. The coffee cup slipped from my fingers, shattering on the floor. Staring at the scattered pieces, I vaguely remembered Mrs. Sterling’s words— “Just you wait. I can make this store close down immediately!” Thinking about this, the doorbell rang. It was a courier. I took a small package, opened it, and froze. Inside was a photo of me in a school uniform standing at the school gate. On the back was written: [Don’t forget who you are, Lin Yi.] In that moment, my fingers trembled slightly. Lin Yi, my real name, not Sarah, the bullied salesgirl. I walked to the window, looking at the towering LIN Fashion Group headquarters in the distance. A while ago, after graduating from a fashion institute in Paris, my father wanted me to return to headquarters as Chief Designer immediately. But to better understand local consumer needs and preferences, I voluntarily applied for this market research, working as a regular sales associate in a group-owned store for a year. No one knew Sarah was Lin Yi, except for a few executives at headquarters and—the person who sent the photo. I dialed a number I hadn’t called in a long time. “Hello, it’s me.” A familiar voice came from the other end. “Saw the photo?” “I saw it, thanks for the reminder.” I took a deep breath. “I want to come back.” “Finally thought it through?” He laughed. “You could have called me sooner.” “I thought I could handle it.” I looked at my tired self in the mirror. “But now the store’s sales are down, and colleagues are affected.” “That’s not your fault.” “But it is my responsibility.” I gripped the photo tightly. “I want to end this farce.” Hanging up, I took out a delicate small box, opened it, and took out a unique brooch. This was my work when I won my first design award. Pinning it to my chest, I tidied my appearance in the mirror. Time to reclaim my identity. Early the next morning, I went straight to the manager’s office and handed in my resignation. “Why?” The manager asked in surprise. “We’ll get through this.” I shook my head, fingers lightly touching the designer brooch. “Sorry, but I think I’ve gotten everything I needed.” The manager looked at me confused, gaze landing on the brooch, pupils contracting slightly: “This design… I’ve seen it in fashion magazines.” I smiled slightly, took out a business card, and handed it to him—proof of my true identity. The manager looked at the card, then at me, too shocked to speak. “Thank you for taking care of me this year.” I said sincerely: “Now, it’s time to resolve this storm.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386084”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was sketching caricatures on the sidewalk with my daughters when I ran into my old college roommate. She looked me up and down, a mix of pity and smugness on her face. “Wow, Sarah. I never thought I’d see you reduced to street art to make a living.” Then, her expression shifted to something more complex. “But hey, your luck might be turning around. Is that your daughter with Kyle? You know, Kyle Sterling is huge now. He’s not the same guy anymore.” “And get this—even though he’s married, he’s been looking for you all these years. He said if you just apologize, he’ll take you back as his mistress.” Kyle Sterling was my ex. We met in high school, fell in love in college, and were supposed to get married. But on our anniversary, to please his rich fiancée, he slapped me so hard I fell and miscarried. And now he wants me back as a mistress? The next moment, a sleek black sports car pulled up. The Prince of New York stepped out. His voice was low and dangerous. “Excuse me? That’s my wife and daughter you’re talking about.” 1 “Sarah?” I looked up from my easel to see my old college roommate, Jessica, standing there, scanning me from head to toe. “It really is you! It’s been forever. What are you doing in New York? And look at you… reduced to selling sketches on the street to survive?” She shook her head, her expression shifting into a weird mix of pity and excitement. “Is that little girl yours and Kyle’s? You have no idea… Kyle’s business exploded. He’s a big deal now. And the crazy thing is, even though he got married, he never forgot you. He’s been searching for you since you left. He said if you just swallow your pride and apologize, he’ll forgive everything and keep you by his side! You won’t have to struggle with the kid anymore.” I put down my charcoal stick and stared at her. Jessica. College roommate. And “Kyle” was Kyle Sterling. My ex-boyfriend. He’s a married man now. What does “keep me by his side” mean? It means being a mistress. I looked her dead in the eye. “I’m not going back to Kyle. I stopped loving him a long time ago.” Under her shocked gaze, memories flooded back. Kyle and I met in high school. Back then, the Sterling family business was on the verge of bankruptcy. The rich kid became a poor kid, just like me. We were outcasts, bullied and mocked. That trauma bonded us. We huddled together for warmth. We got into the same college and fell in love. I studied Art; he studied Finance. We worked part-time jobs and rented a tiny, damp apartment near campus. It was small, but under the warm yellow light, we dreamed big. After graduation, Kyle wanted to get his MBA. I gave up my art dreams. I worked two jobs to support us while he studied. But right after he got his master’s, the Sterling family business miraculously recovered. They were back in the elite circle. Kyle’s value skyrocketed. Then, he met Chloe Vanderbilt. They were inseparable. Once, when I went to Kyle’s family home to see him, I overheard his mother. “Kyle, you’re at that age. The Vanderbilt girl likes you. Why don’t we arrange a marriage?” When Kyle stayed silent, she frowned. “That delivery girl? The waitress? She’s not worthy of you. People will laugh!” She was talking about me. 2 Hearing that, my heart soured. I turned to leave. But I bumped right into Chloe Vanderbilt. She sneered, “What is the help doing snooping around?” Kyle rushed over. Hearing this, he quickly said, “She’s not the help!” Chloe looked confused. I looked at him, waiting for him to claim me. To say, This is my girlfriend. Instead, guilt flashed across his face. “This is my college classmate. She’s just here to drop off some textbooks.” My heart dropped. A dull, throbbing pain spread through my chest. Chloe ignored me, laughing as she linked arms with him. “Kyle, look! I baked cookies!” She held one up to his mouth. “Try it! Is it good?” Kyle smiled. “Delicious.” I clenched my fists, staring at him in disappointment. “Kyle, what is the meaning of this?” Kyle frowned, terrified Chloe would misunderstand. He grabbed my arm and dragged me outside. “Stop making a scene! That’s the Vanderbilt heiress. We can’t offend her!” I pulled away angrily. “Your mom wants you to marry someone of your status. What do you think?” “Do you also think I’m not good enough for you?” He grabbed my hands. “Don’t be crazy! I only love you!” He guided my hand to his pocket, making me touch the ceramic charm inside. “I keep our token with me always.” “How could I marry anyone else?” I pulled out my matching charm and smiled weakly. “Good. Don’t forget your promise.” When he was in grad school, I was working two jobs with a fever. He cried seeing me suffer and made these matching ceramic charms. He gave one to me and said, “Sarah, you’ve suffered so much for me. I promise I’ll marry you and you’ll never suffer again.” Those charms were his vow. Just then, Chloe ran out, pouting. “Kyle! Why aren’t you coming back in?” “Talking to a girl… I’m jealous!” Kyle dropped my hand instantly. “Coming!” He turned to me. “You go home first. I’ll come find you when I’m free.” Then he walked over to Chloe, voice soft. “Don’t be mad. I’m here now.” 3 After that day, Kyle never came to find me. The apartment meant for two became lonely. Then I started feeling sick. I went to the clinic. Pregnant. I held the test result, shaking with excitement. I texted him immediately. I started daydreaming about our wedding, our baby. Kyle didn’t reply. Maybe he was busy. Tomorrow was our six-year anniversary. The next day, I bought flowers and a cake and went to Kyle’s house. But when I got to the door, I saw Kyle kneeling on the floor, applying ointment to Chloe’s ankle. Chloe whined about the pain, burying her face in his neck. Kyle smiled, his voice dripping with affection. “Don’t be scared. It’s almost done. Be good. Even though it’s your birthday, you hurt your foot, so you have to rest.” His friends around them cheered and teased. The scene stabbed my heart. So this is what he was busy with. It was our six-year anniversary. He didn’t send a single text. He was celebrating Chloe’s birthday. I stood frozen at the door. Someone noticed me. “Hey, who’s that? Who are you looking for? Flowers and cake?” Another guy sneered. “Look at her clothes. So cheap… she probably has the wrong house.” Everyone looked at me. “But she’s looking at Kyle. Is she here for him?” “Huh? Kyle knows someone that poor?” “No way. Don’t insult Kyle like that!” Under their scrutiny, I forced my legs to move toward him. “Kyle… today is our six…” Kyle’s face flashed with embarrassment. He frowned, cutting me off sharply. “It’s the delivery I ordered!” He snatched the flowers and cake from my hands. He presented my anniversary gifts to Chloe with both hands. “Chloe, I know you like me too. Will you be my girlfriend?” 4 Chloe blushed instantly. She covered her mouth. “Kyle! Yes, I will!” Everyone clapped and cheered. Except me. It felt like a nightmare. I couldn’t tell if it was real. Kyle saw I hadn’t left and glared at me. “What are you staring at? Delivery girl, get lost!” I looked at him in disbelief. “Kyle Sterling, who are you calling a delivery girl? I am your girlfriend…” I thought he was just placating his mother and the Vanderbilts. I didn’t know he was cheating on me. Before he could speak, the room went silent. Everyone stared at me. “Didn’t Kyle say she was a delivery girl? How is she his girlfriend?” “Impossible. Why would Kyle be with a broke girl like that?” “Well, the Sterlings were poor for a while. Maybe it’s an old fling…” Amidst the whispers, Kyle’s face turned red with shame. Chloe snapped, bratty and loud: “What are you talking about? I saw you pestering Kyle last time. You’re just a stalker! Now you’re delusional enough to claim you’re his girlfriend? How shameless can you be? Kyle is my boyfriend now. Are you trying to be a homewrecker?” Her explanation satisfied the crowd. “Oh, a stalker. That makes sense. No way Kyle would date her.” “Look at her sweater, it’s unraveling. Desperate.” “So shameless. Kyle and Chloe are together, and she’s still clinging on.” Everyone pointed fingers, looking at me like I was a rat. But she was the other woman. I looked at her furiously. “Who’s the stalker? Who’s the third party? Do you know Kyle and I have been together for…” Slap! Kyle slapped me across the face. His chest heaved, face dark. “Shut up! We were just college classmates! I pitied you because you were poor, so I gave you some delivery jobs to make money. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you! Lying to my girlfriend to ruin our relationship?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386083”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After my gaming buddy rejected my request to duo for the third time, I sent him a tearful plea: [Baby, let’s get back together. I miss you so much. This season is too hard to rank up alone.] As soon as I hit send, my message popped up on the livestream of the hottest new pro gamer, Silas Thorne. The usually cold and aloof Silas suddenly looked like he was about to cry. Through the screen, I heard his inner thoughts: [It’s over. Was that message meant for her ex-boyfriend?] [Did she send it to me by mistake?] [If they get back together, what am I supposed to do?!] [Sob… I haven’t even had the chance to confess yet…] Me: ??? Wait, is he calling me “Baby”? 1 I’m a famous actress. But nobody knows my secret: I’m a hardcore gamer. If I can’t game, I might as well be dead. Not only that, I’m also a toxic flamer online. Like right now… “Are you playing with your feet? Sprinkling rice on the keyboard and letting a chicken peck at it would produce better gameplay than this.” “Why do you keep spamming surrender? Are you allergic to winning?” “Even a bot would play better than you. Did you buy your account on eBay?” I stared at our jungler’s 0-10 scoreline, seething with rage. He was playing my favorite hero, Kai’Sa, and absolutely butchering her. It felt like a personal insult. I turned on my mic and unleashed a five-minute tirade without taking a breath. Just as I inhaled to start round two, a calm, clear male voice came through the channel: “Sorry, my little cousin was playing just now. Don’t worry, we’ll win now that I’m here.” I laughed, incredulous. Bad score, so blame the little cousin? “Why don’t you say your 80-year-old grandma was playing? With those excuse-making skills, you should be a politician, bro.” Before I could finish, the jungler dove into the enemy team. I was about to mock his suicide mission when Kai’Sa executed a flawless combo, dashing around like a ghost. What?? Triple kill? My insult died in my throat. The jungler sighed. “Please stop talking. It’s distracting.” This guy thinks he’s all that? I was ready to keep flaming, but another perfect bush ambush left me speechless. The second half of the game became his solo highlight reel. His score went from 0-10 to 20-10. Before I knew it, the enemy nexus exploded. We won? Just like that? 2 I clicked into the post-game screen in a daze. A notification popped up: [Player “Hell’s Ladykiller” wants to add you as a friend.] I accepted immediately. I knew what this was! He wasn’t done; he wanted to 1v1 me in a flame war? Bring it on! I’ve never lost a trash-talking contest. But then I saw his message. [My cousin broke his arm, so he was playing badly. I apologize on his behalf.] I sat up straight in bed. I wanted to slap myself. I am a monster! I typed frantically: [I’m so sorry! I didn’t know! I shouldn’t have been so rude…] He sent a voice message. It was a kid’s voice, sniffling: “It’s okay, big sister. I was just too bad at the game.” I froze. Disaster. I made a kid cry! Guilt washed over me. I reflected hard on my life choices and immediately started groveling. [Actually, I just have a foul mouth. Can I send you some money? Kid, please stop crying. Add me on WeChat, I’ll buy you snacks and bubble tea. Don’t be mad at me. Want a skin? I’ll gift you one.] I sent my contact info. After a long silence, he replied: [Is that profile picture you?] My WeChat profile picture has always been a childhood photo of me. I was a chubby kid, looking nothing like the glamorous star I am now. No one would ever connect the two. So I replied honestly: [Yeah, why?] He sent another voice message. It was the mature guy’s voice again: “Nothing, just thought it was cute. My cousin is okay now, he went home. Want to play more? I’ll carry you.” Huh? Did his voice just get… softer? It sounded even better than before. I didn’t think too much about it. [OK, let’s duo.] 3 “Hell’s Ladykiller” was cracked. We played ten games that afternoon and won every single one. And he was so considerate. If I played mid, he gave me the blue buff. If I played ADC, he let me take all the farm. I was grinning from ear to ear. This was glorious! I never thought I’d find such a perfect gaming partner! For the next month, whenever I wasn’t filming, I invited him to play. He never said no. Our conversations were minimalist. [Game?] [Coming.] By the end of the season, we both hit the highest rank, Challenger. Hehe. I even changed my ID to “Gloomy Bro-Protector.” You know how it is. Duo partners need matching IDs. 4 Sadly, the fun couldn’t last forever. I had to work. Filming was wrapping up, and I was swamped. I didn’t log on for days. On the day we wrapped, I collapsed in the dressing room and finally checked my phone. Hell’s Ladykiller: [Game?] It was that time of the month. I clutched my stomach and rolled over. [Can’t. Worked all day, exhausted. Plus cramps. No energy.] He was brief as always: [Got it. Address?] I sent a question mark. But I sent the location anyway, joking: [Coming to gank me IRL? Too bad I’m in the middle of nowhere. You’ll never find me.] He sent a cute cat sticker. He stole that from me! Copycat. But soon, I found out why he wanted the address. A delivery guy grabbed the director’s megaphone and yelled across the set: “WHO IS GLOOMY BRO-PROTECTOR? YOUR DELIVERY IS HERE!” I never thought hearing my gamer tag in public would be this humiliating. I fled the scene and made my assistant pick it up. The bag weighed five pounds. Bubble tea, strawberry cake, shrimp dumplings, stomach meds, ibuprofen… everything. I stared at it and sent him a photo. [You bought this?] [Yeah. Rest well. Health is more important than gaming.]

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386082”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Every night after my livestream, I slowly peel off my silk stockings in front of the mirror. I know there’s a camera hidden behind the glass. But the man watching doesn’t know my secret: this delicate, alluring cam-girl is actually a man. 1 “Thanks for hanging out, fam! See you next time!” I blew a kiss to the camera and ended the stream. Standing up from my gaming chair, I stretched, my back popping satisfyingly. To cater to my audience’s tastes, I was wearing a pleated schoolgirl skirt and black silk stockings. The cropped top rode up with every movement, exposing a stretch of pale skin. I sat on the sofa, facing the mirror, admiring my own long legs as I slowly peeled off the stockings. Why the sofa? Because it’s the perfect triangulation point between the mirror, the computer, and the smoke detector on the wall. All three contain hidden pinhole cameras. I’ve known about them for a while. I also know they were planted by three different men. Every night, I deliberately undress here to tease them. But I never take off too much. Because if I reveal too much, they’ll discover my secret: I’m a man. 2 I was born with fair skin and a soft voice. Add in my slender frame and small bone structure, and when I dress as a woman, I’m a knockout. Men lose their minds over me. Since moving into this apartment complex, three men have targeted me. The camera in the mirror was installed by my landlord. He’s in his forties, chubby, with a perpetually friendly face. You’d never guess he was a voyeur. My computer has remote control software installed. It can turn my machine on and off and access the webcam. Even when I shut down the stream, the person on the other end can turn the camera back on. The culprit is the guy next door. He’s a freelancer with thick black-rimmed glasses, very quiet and polite. One day, my computer got a “virus” (which he planted), and he “fixed” it for me, installing the spyware in the process. The last camera is hidden inside the smoke detector. I bought it from the guy who delivers my bottled water. The first time he delivered, he wouldn’t shut up about fire safety. I played the concerned girl and let him install the detector. These three cameras monitor every inch of my living room and my daily life. Why haven’t I called the police? Because I planned this. These three men are essential pieces in my game. 3 I tossed the stockings onto the sofa and slowly unbuttoned my top. Underneath, I wore a loose camisole. I knew that behind those three lenses were three pairs of hungry eyes and three flushed faces. A smirk played on my lips as I walked into the bathroom. Watching but not touching must be torture. How long can they hold out? After all, they’ve had copies of my house key for a long time. 4 The landlord had the first key. He claimed he didn’t keep spares, but I knew he was lying. He has a history of letting himself into female tenants’ apartments. But with me, he’s still observing, biding his time. When I go out, I leave a spare key under the doormat. My neighbor and the water delivery guy didn’t miss the opportunity; they took it, copied it, and put it back. But none of them have dared to enter while I’m home. Looks like I need to add some fuel to the fire. I picked up my phone and spoke loudly, pretending to be on a call. “Yeah, this place isn’t working out.” “I’ll probably move soon.” “When? Not sure yet, maybe next week…” I put the phone down, smiling. The bait is set; now I just wait for the fish to bite. Time ticked by. At 4:00 AM, I heard a soft click at the door. Who would it be? The lock turned, and the door pushed open silently. Light footsteps approached the bedroom. The door creaked open, and I saw his face in the dim light. It was the neighbor, the freelancer. He stood by my bed, his glasses reflecting a predatory gleam. His hand reached out, trembling, hovering inches from my face before pulling back. Instead of touching me, he pulled out a camera and started taking pictures from every angle. I imagine my photos will soon be added to his wall of trophies. Among his collection, I’m sure I’m the crown jewel. He took photos for a full thirty minutes. He stared at my exposed arm for a long time before finally leaving. Once he was gone, I finally let myself sleep. I slept until noon. After washing up, I went out for lunch. While eating, I pulled up the live feed of my apartment on my phone. Hehe. They don’t know that I have way more cameras hidden in my house than they do. The landlord appeared on the screen. He seemed impatient. He’d entered shortly after I left. He marched into the bathroom, grabbed my underwear, and… relieved himself. I watched with interest, my lunch forgotten. Soon, he groaned and closed his eyes in ecstasy. When he was done, he put the underwear back and left. I finished my meal and strolled back. On the stairs, I ran into Julian. Julian lives upstairs. He’s a writer. He always wears turtlenecks and silver-rimmed glasses—very clean-cut and handsome. I know Julian likes me. Every time he sees me, he gets this shy smile. If I hold eye contact too long, he blushes. He knows my schedule and manufactures “chance encounters.” He knows I’m a streamer; he’s my top moderator, “SimpleJay,” always tipping and chatting. He even brings me homemade red date soup, claiming he “made too much.” Honestly, I kinda like him too. Unlike the three creeps with their cameras, Julian looks at me with pure affection, no lust. In this society, a pure boy like him is rare. So, I flirt back. I nurture the relationship. After all, killing him will be so much more satisfying when he’s deeply in love with me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386081”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When the main villain was thrown in jail, I, blinded by lust, took advantage of the chaos and kidnapped his eight-pack-abs son. Every day was filled with kissing, touching, and all sorts of “training.” The young man, stripped of his powerful backing, had no choice but to endure the humiliation unwillingly. Until one day, rumors spread that the villain was about to be released and was searching the world for his son. Panicked, I rushed back to my rental apartment to pack my bags and flee the country. Instead, I walked in on the boy, who was supposed to be tied to the bed, radiating a terrifying aura. A cigarette dangled from his lips as he tossed an evidence bag to his subordinate. “Let him rot in there for another ten years.” Me: ???! 1 The first time I saw Song Qingli was at the H University basketball court. The boy lifted his shirt to wipe off sweat, inadvertently revealing a perfect set of eight-pack abs and a tantalizingly tapered waist. The drawstring of his gray sweatpants hung naturally over the bulge. It immediately caught my eye. I stood there observing for a long time, feeling a heat rise through my body. Conclusion: It’s really big. Um… I mean the sun. Our eyes met. When Song Qingli saw me, a look of indescribable panic flashed through his eyes. He stopped playing and turned to walk in the opposite direction. I sprinted over to block him, intending to hand him the water I’d prepared, but only got a cold “Stay away from me.” Oh my, a flower on a high peak, and a prickly one at that. Even better, hehe— My friend who invited me to H University was blunt: “Yaoyao, Song Qingli seems to hate you a bit.” I nodded. “Normal.” Ever since I hit my head at my coming-of-age party, I realized I was living in a novel. My parents are the main characters, and Song Qingli’s dad is the world-destroying villain. Our families are mortal enemies, so naturally, Song Qingli wouldn’t have a good attitude toward me. But as the saying goes, no matter how hard a man’s mouth is, his lips are soft when you kiss them… After that day, I lowered my standards and pursued Song Qingli aggressively. He remained unmoved, avoiding me like the plague. The third time I wore a tube top, spaghetti straps, and a mini skirt, pretending to sprain my ankle in front of him and begging for help, I got caught. Song Qingli’s villainous father pointed at my nose and threatened viciously: “As long as I live, you will never touch a single hair on my son’s head.” “Then may I ask, when would it be convenient for you to die?” Before I could finish, my parents burst in and dragged me home. My mom, who usually only cared about being lovey-dovey with my dad and ignored me, was furious for the first time: “Yaoyao, we are in a life-or-death struggle with the Song family. Song Qingli hates you, you won’t be happy with him.” I retorted silently in my heart: No, you don’t understand, I will definitely be sexually happy! My dad spoke calmly to comfort her: “Honey, you’re overthinking it. With Song Huairen around, our daughter won’t get her hands on Song Qingli anyway.” 2 But they didn’t know that the villain Song Huairen was about to hit the plot point where he gets thrown in jail. That day, I stood in the most conspicuous spot: “Well, well, well, Mr. Not-a-Single-Hair, your son belongs to me now.” Under the villain’s murderous gaze, I led people into the villa and forcibly kidnapped Song Qingli. In the cramped rental apartment, for a full day and night, the boy refused to eat or drink, refusing to communicate. I understood that his family had suddenly met with disaster, the proud son of heaven had fallen from the clouds, and he couldn’t bear the blow for a while. I specifically changed into a silk nightgown to feed him water and food. But Song Qingli kept his eyes shut tight, lips pressed together, motionless, stiff as a board, looking like he’d rather die than submit. No matter how I acted cute or seduced him, he remained unmoved. Finally, my patience ran out. I forced his mouth open mouth-to-mouth and roughly poured in the red date and goji berry water I had boiled. Song Qingli’s eyes flew open, coughing uncontrollably. The water spilling from the corner of his mouth wet his shirt, sticking to his body and outlining his beautiful muscles: “What—what are you doing?” “Kissing.” Looking at Song Qingli’s expression of shock mixed with terror. Thinking back to the days when I humbly pursued love but was coldly rejected by him and humiliated by the villain. I felt a secret thrill. My thumb brushed over his rosy lips, and I chuckled: “A good boy like you, is this your first time kissing a girl? No wonder you’re so inexperienced… why don’t I teach you?” “Don’t, don’t touch me, dirty…” Song Qingli frowned, seemingly unable to bear hearing this, blushing furiously and deliberately turning his head away. My mood, which had been relatively pleasant, flared up again because of the word “dirty.” The more reluctant he was, the more disgusted he acted, the more I deliberately bit his ear and said: “Song Qingli, your dad has done all sorts of evil things over the years. Those creditors outside are waiting to eat you alive.” “Now, I’m the only one willing to protect you. In return, be my lover.” Song Qingli seemed shocked by my bandit logic, a strange light flashing in his eyes as he forced out word by word: “Me, be your, lover?” “Yeah.” “I can’t,” Song Qingli replied with trepidation. I laughed in anger: “Baby, do you think I’m negotiating with you?” “Since you don’t want to be a lover, then be my dog.” The boy said nothing, his thick eyelashes lowered, his fluffy head drooping, wet all over. He really looked like an unwanted puppy in the rain on the street. Although a top-tier handsome guy looking dejected is particularly pitiable. But I risked everything to save Song Qingli, not to watch him give me attitude. Smack— The handle of the whip slapped the boy’s pale face, leaving a faint red mark. Not heavy, but extremely humiliating. Song Qingli raised his head a beat later, the corner of his mouth hooking up almost imperceptibly, fleetingly, so fast I thought it was an illusion. I lifted my leg, the tip of my high heel grinding and pressing circles on Song Qingli’s eight-pack abs: “Don’t ignore me, or I’ll throw you to the creditors. In this rental, you only need to serve me. If you fall into their hands, being used as a rag would be a mercy.” Song Qingli trembled all over, intense emotions surging in his eyes: “Chen Xueyao…” I increased the pressure under my foot, looking down at him: “Dogs are not qualified to call their master by name.” “Serve me or be tortured to death by creditors, choose.” The boy hissed in pain, arching his back, almost crawling on the ground. Even in such a humiliating posture, Song Qingli still didn’t yield: “Just kill me—” “……” Burning with rage, I slammed the door and left, not noticing the boy staring at the whip in my hand with an obsessed look. 3 “See, you forced him to answer, and when he did, you weren’t happy. But it’s interesting, the villain’s son is so upright it’s almost evil, while the glorious protagonist’s daughter has a bit of old man Song’s style.” In the bar, my best friend Lu Ke teased with a smile. I irritably downed a shot of strong liquor. “Yaoyao, haven’t you always been about physical pleasure over emotional attachment?” Lu Ke paused deliberately, flashing a wicked grin: “Now that you have him, if I were you, I’d enjoy myself first. I don’t believe he’d really dare to bite off his tongue and kill himself.” I pondered this, hesitating. Lu Ke continued to fan the flames: “To tame a high-altitude flower like him, being soft-hearted is a big taboo. You have to know, the essence of forced love is—do it until you love it!” This woman has been divorced eight times and has a rich romantic history. She must be right. By the time Lu Ke finished sharing her experience, it was late at night. I returned to the rental apartment. The bedroom and living room were pitch black; Song Qingli was nowhere to be seen. Only the storage room in the corner had a light on. I pushed the door open and locked eyes with the boy whose pants were halfway down. Next to him was his discarded shirt and a makeshift bed made of cardboard and some junk. Song Qingli froze for two seconds, his hands trembling so much he couldn’t pull the zipper up. I stared at the exposed chest and commented: “Pink. I like it.” The boy couldn’t cover both top and bottom. His hands flew up to cover his chest in a panic, and the pants he had just pulled up fell down again. Song Qingli’s face alternated between red and white, his lower lip almost bitten through: “Chen… Yaoyao, I thought you weren’t coming back.” Song Qingli probably wanted to call me by my full name at first but changed it at the last second. Seems Lu Ke was right, the training is working. I raised an eyebrow and approached step by step until Song Qingli had nowhere to retreat and fell onto the tattered little bed. “I rented this place. I come back when I want.” Song Qingli was practically exposed to me, yet he still struggled to cover himself with the sheet, his tone almost pleading: “Yaoyao, can you please go out first?” “I made sweet and sour pork ribs. They’re in the fridge, just heat them up.” The alcohol was getting to my head, and I blinked slowly. I didn’t expect a pampered young master like Song Qingli to know how to cook my favorite dish, let alone save some for me. I yanked the sheet off Song Qingli: “I don’t want to eat right now, and I don’t want to go out.” Forced to be exposed to the air again, the boy’s eyes reddened with shame, and his voice rose involuntarily with agitation: “What do you want to do?” “You.” My gaze drifted downward involuntarily, and I couldn’t help but sigh. Song Qingli, truly extraordinary. Getting drunker, I couldn’t stand steady in my heels and swayed, falling onto Song Qingli. I simply sat on him in that position and immediately felt the boy’s reaction. “So your mouth isn’t the hardest part of you after all…” 4 Song Qingli couldn’t stand dirty talk. The veins on his tense arms bulged, as if he had reached his limit: “Chen Xueyao, get off.” I deliberately moved my waist back and forth: “Beg me.” Song Qingli groaned, fell silent for a while, and finally lowered his proud head: “I beg you…” I hooked my arm around his neck, nuzzling his neck and acting coquettish: “Fine, I’ll let you off today. Carry me to the bedroom.” Song Qingli hesitated for a few seconds, then picked me up princess-style and placed me on the soft bed. However, when he tried to get up and leave, I clamped my legs around his waist, hooked him hard, and pinned him under me. Song Qingli’s eyes widened instantly, his expression one of deceived humiliation. His whole body screamed resistance, but I forcefully blocked his lips. In between breaths, I panted softly in his ear: “Song Qingli, give it to me.” The ceiling light swayed more and more violently. Tears slid from the corner of his eyes, mixing with sweat, inseparable: “Chen Xueyao, you will regret this, you will definitely regret this.” Heh, threatening me? I bit hard on Song Qingli’s collarbone, teasing him: “If you’re so unwilling, then get out.” The boy had probably never heard such crude words in his life. He was so ashamed his tongue tied in knots, unable to say a word, so he simply covered my mouth with his hand. Half-asleep, I vaguely heard someone whispering “I’m sorry,” “I made you dirty,” and other things over and over again. The voice sounded like Song Qingli’s, but it definitely wasn’t him. Forced by someone he hates, he must hate me to death. … After that night, I gradually understood the joy of training that Lu Ke talked about. Whips, toys, handcuffs, white coats, candles… new tricks every day. Song Qingli was ashamed and angry at first, even shedding tears. After his dignity was shattered time and again, the boy seemed to reluctantly accept the humiliating reality, washing the soiled sheets with a cold face. After I washed up, I casually threw my changed underwear onto Song Qingli’s bare shoulder and ordered: “Wash this too.” The boy carefully pinched the lace edge, lost in thought. I expertly picked up the whip and cracked it on his back, making a crisp sound: “Daydreaming? Not listening to your master anymore?” Song Qingli made no move to dodge, taking the hit squarely. A strange light flashed in his eyes again, and he lowered his head to say okay. Lu Ke taught me that training can’t just be pressure; you have to give a sweet date after a slap. I patted the boy’s fluffy head and softened my tone: “Did you forget something?” I wanted to remind him to use special detergent, but before I could speak, the boy leaned down, gently cupped the back of my head, kissed my cheek, then the corner of my lips, moving down bit by bit, planting lingering, dense kisses. “Is this… enough?” Song Qingli half-knelt on the ground, looked up, his voice dry, traces of suspicious liquid still at the corner of his mouth. I was caught off guard and flirted back, my heart pounding wildly. After tying him to the bedhead, I used the excuse of being late for work to rush out the door.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386080”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After five years of marriage, Tristan and I went from being the perfect couple to bitter enemies. The year we wanted each other dead, he choked me, cursing me for being barren as karma for my “evil deeds.” I smashed a teapot over his head, screaming that he deserved to bury the woman he loved. He locked me in the house; I strangled him with his own vows. We were locked in a death spiral. Until a stray arrow flew straight for my heart. Without hesitation, he blocked it for me, smiling as he died. “Now, I don’t owe you anything.” But idiots like him don’t know how to block arrows properly. The arrow went through him and killed me too. Two for the price of one. When I opened my eyes, I was sixteen again, vibrant and full of life. This time, he went North to find his true love, and I went South to protect my family. We were supposed to be strangers. But Tristan… he regretted it. 1 “Miss Sarah, bad news. Tristan is kneeling in the front hall. He’s begging… begging to break off the engagement. Your father wants to see you.” Looking in the bronze mirror, my sixteen-year-old face was smooth, radiant, and untouched by the years of bitterness and gray hairs from my past life in that gilded cage. It’s true. I’ve been reborn. “Fine! I agree to break the engagement!” Tristan whipped his head around, disbelief written all over his face. “Really?” “Really!” Seventeen-year-old Tristan was dashing and proud. Even kneeling, his back was straight, his confidence unshaken. “So from now on, we go our separate ways? Sarah Bennett and Tristan Cole have nothing to do with each other?” The gentle breeze blew pear blossoms like rain, highlighting the determination on his face. “Agreed!” I answered so quickly that Tristan was left speechless. In our past life, resentment and unwillingness kept us rotting together for a decade. In this life, he let go, and I was set free. Everything ended on this flower-strewn afternoon. My father was furious, smashing a blue porcelain cup. “You’re foolish! The wedding is imminent. How can you let him break it off? Think of your reputation! Your future!” My brother kicked the door open, blood on his lip, eyes blazing. “Bullying my sister? Does he think the Bennetts are pushovers?” “I chased him for three miles and beat him bloody.” “Sarah, just say the word. Even if he runs to Chicago, I’ll drag him back to the altar!” So, Tristan was in a rush to break the engagement to go find his true love in Chicago. She was the love of his life, and the arsonist of my marriage. 2 In my previous life, Tristan and I were married for thirteen years, but we spent eight of them as enemies. We went from lovers to enemies because of one woman: Emma. Tristan saved her from bandits in Chicago and brought her home. There were many ways to repay a debt, but Tristan insisted on making her his concubine. She went through the standard procedures—morning greetings, serving tea to the main wife. None of it was malicious, but she felt I was humiliating her. “You’ll regret this!” she screamed before running away. When we found her, she was a bloated corpse in the moat. Tristan went hysterical, accusing me of driving his savior to suicide. I was full of grievances, accusing him of being blinded by love and manipulated by petty tricks. That night, we had our worst fight. He accidentally pushed me down the stairs. My three-month-old baby turned into a pool of blood, dissolving our childhood friendship and three years of marriage. It also took away my ability to ever be a mother again. My father forced him to swear an oath: even if I remained childless, he could never take another woman without my permission. Tristan kept his word. He brought no one into the house. Instead, he kept a mistress in the city, rarely coming home. I wouldn’t be outdone. I kept a gigolo in the North District, drinking and singing my days away. Until his mistress got pregnant and started provoking me. Her carriage charged at me on the street, trampling the only thing I loved—my dog—to death. Before I could slap her, Tristan caught my hand. He shielded her, eyes red. “Hit me if you have to. I bought her the carriage.” “It’s just a dog. I’ll buy you ten more.” The woman, who looked exactly like Emma, hugged his arm and wept. “I didn’t mean to. If Sister hates me so much, I’ll pay with my life.” So I granted her wish. 3 I slapped Tristan twice, bloodying his face. While the woman ran upstairs to the tea room, I drew a sword and pointed it at her. She was so scared she fell down the stairs. One corpse, two lives. That night, Tristan stormed into my courtyard like a madman and choked me. “She’s dead, the baby is dead. Are you happy now?” Suffocating, I felt like a dying fish. But seeing his pain gave me a twisted pleasure. “It was just a mistress I bought for five hundred silver. I’ll pay you two thousand.” Tristan’s hands trembled. He spat venomous words. “You did it on purpose? You’re evil. No wonder you’re barren. It’s your karma.” My resolve shattered. Hatred burned inside me. I grabbed a pot of hot tea and smashed it over his head. “You deserved it too! Always burying the women you love.” The people closest to you know where to stab to hurt the most. He stumbled, clutching his bleeding head, roaring in disbelief. “You want me dead over a gigolo?” “Didn’t you want me dead over a dancer?” “You loved him? You slept with him?” he asked, incredulous. I laughed, gasping for air. “Your mistress was pregnant. Why should I stay chaste for you?” Shock cracked his expression. He staggered away, locking the courtyard gates, intending to imprison me until I died. We fought until the capital fell into chaos. A stray arrow flew toward me. Tristan blocked it, smiling as he died. “Now, I don’t owe you anything.” But the idiot didn’t know how to block an arrow properly. It went through him and killed me too. I died behind him and woke up today. The rain beat against the banana leaves. I arranged flowers and told my story calmly, as if it were someone else’s. But every word was thunder to my father and brother. My father turned pale, speechless. My brother crushed a teacup, eyes red. “I treated him like a brother! How dare he… how dare he do this to you!” “Since he treated you like this, why didn’t I kill him?” My nose stung. Tears fell as I looked at them. “Because Father and Brother… were already gone!” 4 Thunder tore through the peaceful April sky. My mother died in childbirth with me and my twin brother. My father raised us alone, struggling every step of the way. He finally rose to power, becoming the tutor to the Princes. But party politics dragged him down. He was framed by his favorite student, the Third Prince. A forged letter condemned my father and the Fifth Prince for treason. The Emperor washed the capital with blood. The rain at the execution ground was heavy, washing away my father and brother in the blink of an eye. For the rest of my life, I lived in that cold rain, never standing straight again. The capital’s wealth is blinding, but in this life, I just want my family to live. “The hydrangeas in Charleston are blooming. Father, shall we go home?” My father aged instantly, wrinkles carving into his face. He couldn’t look away from me. “If I were gone, my Sarah would suffer so much.” Ambition and legacy meant nothing compared to flesh and blood. My father loved me more than his career. He burned the stack of forged letters from the Third Prince. The dream ended. “I’m old. It’s time to retire. Why not accompany Sarah to enjoy the mountains and rivers?” My brother smiled, pretending to be relaxed. “Charleston is nice. And Cousin Luke is even better.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386079”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When the Doppelgangers invaded, I awakened the “Human Mimic System.” The rules were simple: Do something irrational, and I’d earn Mimic Points. These points could upgrade my body parts, allowing me to perform horrific feats—like popping my eyeballs out of their sockets. One day, a group of Doppelgangers gathered, whispering, “I feel like there’s a human hiding among us.” 1 I’m a horror game junkie. Escape rooms, puzzle solvers, battle royales, spotting the imposter—you name it, I’ve played it. Everyone knows the lore: Doppelgangers mimic, kill, and replace humans. Of course, I never thought I’d see one in real life. It was Saturday, and I was trying to activate my new system. This “cheat code” had been in my head for a week, but I hadn’t figured out how to use it. Today, I decided to stalk a random dog. Would stalking a stray dog count as “irrational behavior”? I had no idea. As I walked out of the campus gate, something felt off. A cold gaze followed me, but I couldn’t pinpoint the source. As long as it wasn’t PETA, I was fine. Shaking off my paranoia, I stuck to the plan. I picked a stray mutt on the street and started following it. If you’ve ever been chased by a dog, you know the drill: you walk past, it watches. You run, it barks and chases. Today, the roles were reversed. The dog stopped; I stopped. The dog walked; I walked. The poor thing kept looking back, clearly terrified. Ding. The system chime rang in my head. [Mimic Points +10. A Doppelganger witnessed this event and experienced a cognitive error.] [Note: The entity chasing the dog is your imitator.] [Doppelganger Exposure +50.] [When Exposure reaches 100, you will assimilate the Doppelganger.] A chill ran down my spine. Doppelgangers were real. This was definitely not good news. Imagine the anxiety of realizing everything around you is unpredictable. In games, I’ve accidentally let Doppelgangers into safe zones, leading to gruesome massacres. They could be your friends, your neighbors, your RA, your roommate… Terrifying. In games, you can reload a save. In reality, you can’t. Especially now, when the news of the invasion hasn’t broken yet. How many of them are there? No one knows. Putting aside my fear, I had to deal with the imitator first. To do that, I needed to keep racking up Mimic Points. As the dog whimpered and ran away with its tail between its legs, I dumped all 10 points into the “Brain” stat. [Brain +10. You will generate more “human-like” ideas.] A spark of inspiration hit me—I was going to get a manicure for a chicken foot. Wait, that idea made me blush instantly. I should have put 5 points into “Thick Skin.” This was going to be social suicide. With a heavy heart, I bought three braised chicken feet. I accidentally ate two on the way. Resisting the urge to eat the last one, I clutched it in my hand. I scanned the people around me. Do I need new glasses? Why haven’t I spotted the Doppelganger yet? I walked into a nail salon, holding the chicken foot. I took a deep breath. “Hi, can you give my chicken foot a manicure?” The nail tech looked at me blankly, question marks practically floating above her head. Oh god, I wanted to dig a hole and die. After adding, “I’ll pay extra,” she reluctantly agreed. The mechanical voice rang again: [Mimic Points +10. A Doppelganger witnessed this event. Cognitive error deepening.] [Note: The entity manicuring the chicken foot is your imitator.] [Doppelganger Exposure +50. Total Exposure: 100.] [When you identify the Doppelganger, you will wear its skin.] So it’s basically a skin system? I walked out of the salon holding a glamorized chicken foot. The sun felt exceptionally hot today, burning my face. It felt like my face had been upgraded and reinforced. The nail tech did her best, but my wallet was empty. If my boyfriend didn’t bring me breakfast, I was at risk of eating grass for the next two weeks. Worst case scenario, I could try dumpster diving. Ignoring my wandering thoughts, I dumped the new 10 points into “Eyes.” [Eyes +10. Eye adjustability increased. You can slightly control pupil color, bloodshot level, pupil size, and detachment.] My eyelid twitched. I thought it would boost observation skills. These upgrades were getting weird. At this rate, I wouldn’t know who was more like a Doppelganger—me or them. I opened my front-facing camera. Under my control, red veins crept across my whites, making me look sleep-deprived. Not enough. I tried turning the whole eye white. Just a pale glaze, not quite horror movie level. Shrinking the pupils? Still not pinpoint enough. I needed more points to make it useful. More importantly, I realized something: I only got points when a Doppelganger was watching. Identifying it immediately might be a mistake. I should farm it for points. A new idea popped into my head: “Take a cat to the vet for neutering, then lie on the operating table myself.” I really should have put those 5 points into Thick Skin. After capturing a stray tabby, I dragged it to the vet clinic. “Hi, do you do neutering here?” The cat in my arms started squirming, sensing danger. The nurse nodded and smiled. “Yes, we do.” I put the cat down, kept a straight face, and climbed onto the examination table. “Please neuter me!” The nurse’s eyes widened. Even the cat looked confused. She blurted out, “Huh?” System prompt: [Mimic Points +20. Your behavior has completely distorted the imitator.] [Doppelganger Exposure +100. Note: It is now purple with confusion.] 2 Under the nurse’s “calling the psych ward” gaze, I rolled off the table. Walking out of the clinic felt like escaping death. Social death is still death. That was terrifying. I almost clawed through the floor with my toes. She even patiently explained why she couldn’t do it, which made me even more ashamed. Taking a deep breath, I noticed the sky was getting dark. I immediately spotted someone casually following a dog. As expected, she was the Doppelganger mimicking me. Looking closely, she did resemble me. In dim light, she would be my twin. Seeming to notice my gaze, she subtly showed off the manicure on the chicken foot she was holding. Like she was saying, Look how beautiful this is. Oblivious to how abstract and insane it was. The moment I recognized her, her death sentence was signed. But I’d spare her for now. I continued my “human” behavior—talking to thin air. “What did you think of the surgery?” Pause. “Seems you rate the doctor highly.” Pause. “I’ll treat you to dinner tonight, don’t argue.” Pause. “Just remember to bring your wallet.” After a string of soliloquies, the system chimed: [Mimic Points +5. The imitator believes it has gathered sufficient information and will attack you in a secluded area. Please identify it before the attack.] Night had fallen. The Doppelganger stopped hiding, its gaze filled with naked hunger. Walking through the deserted streets, the cold feeling grew stronger, like I was about to be flayed alive. I reached a dark alley and stopped. “You are a Doppelganger, aren’t you?” She looked surprised, then smirked cruelly. “When did you figure it out?” System prompt: [Do not use questions when identifying.] Strict. I turned around, pointed at her, and said, “You are a Doppelganger.” [Identification Successful. Urban Legend Unlocked: The Human Mimic.] [In the city’s shadows, Doppelgangers lurk. Among them hides the Human Mimic. Its behavior deviates from the norm, bringing error, chaos, and death to Doppelgangers.] [Tonight, a Doppelganger disturbed the Mimic.] [Legend Unlock Progress: 2%. The Doppelganger fears you.] The Doppelganger before me looked terrified. Inch by inch, it crumbled, turning into a set of summer clothes that the system absorbed. I pulled up the description: [Congratulations, you have acquired Identity 1: Incomplete Doppelganger (Mimic Form). She was a failure even among her kind.] [Note: Identity becomes invalid if exposed.] [But don’t worry. Beneath the Doppelganger skin lies the Human Mimic.] 3 “Did you guys hear? Someone from Room 305 went missing.” As soon as I got back to the dorm, my roommate Sarah brought up the news. “Is it that tall, skinny girl?” Emily asked. Sarah looked at her. “Oh, you knew too?” Jessica put down her study materials. “Is this a big deal? Maya, have you heard?” I shook my head. “Nope.” Thinking to myself, Is this related to the Doppelgangers? Sarah looked at us. “Her sister came to the school demanding answers. It might blow up depending on how the admin handles it.” Emily tutted. “Her RA is weird too. The girl’s been gone for two weeks and he didn’t even think to look for her.” Sarah joked, “Maybe he’s a Doppelganger?” My heart skipped a beat. “It’s possible.” She laughed. “I didn’t mean the ones from your game.” I put my suspicion aside. It wasn’t easy to explain Doppelgangers right now. I could show off my adjustable eyes, but that would probably get me chains in a research lab, not understanding. Before the truth surfaced, I had to be careful. I asked, “What’s the RA’s name again?” Emily recalled, “Something like Lee… Fly?” Jessica added, “Lee Xinfei. He’s the advisor for the music club. He’s a nice guy, don’t spread rumors.” I looked at Jessica. I noticed she was watching a lecture video at 1x speed on her laptop. She had headphones on earlier, so I hadn’t noticed. If I recall correctly, she always watches videos at 2x speed. Noticing my gaze, she asked, “What are you looking at, Maya?” I laughed it off. “Nothing, just spacing out.” If she had already been replaced, the situation was worse than I thought. The invasion might have started a long time ago. After lights out, I put my pillow at the foot of the bed, lay facing the other way, and covered my head completely with the duvet. Basically reversing my sleeping position. A normal person wouldn’t do this. I was just testing. Then, the sound I didn’t want to hear rang out: [Mimic Points +1. A Doppelganger witnessed this. It is confused.] I shivered. This meant one of my roommates was gone forever. I dumped 20 points into my “Arms.” I hoped for a strength boost. I needed to protect myself and get revenge. [Arms +20. Your arm joints can now bend freely. Please ignore the clicking sounds.] [Action Unlocked: Handstand. Movement speed increased by 50% while in a handstand.] [Action Unlocked: Crawl. You can briefly cling to walls while crawling.] [Passive Unlocked: Fear Harvest. Reaching 90% triggers a random effect.] Looking at the list, I pondered. Seems like hitting 20 points triggers a major change. I had 6 points left. I’d save them. I had skills now, but couldn’t use them yet. It was a sleepless night. Excitement, fear, sadness, and hatred mixed together. I decided to text my boyfriend, warning him about the Doppelgangers. At 1 AM, he replied: “My roommate sucks at gaming, he must be a Doppelganger.” How to explain? “Not internet slang. The horror game kind. You streamed those games, you know them.” He understood. “The monsters that mimic humans?” I sent a thumbs-up emoji. “Like the Mandela Catalogue, but maybe worse.” I sent him a graphic: Check for biological inconsistencies. Check for stiff movements or expressions. Check for repetitive speech patterns. Check if they stare at you constantly, causing unease. Look for tiny non-human traits. A while later, he replied, “Actually, it is weird. Star is left-handed, but he smokes with his right hand. Today he used his left.” “Is he a Doppelganger?” I sent several messages after that, but he didn’t reply. My eye twitched. Did something happen? The next morning, he replied, “Fell asleep last night. Tell me more later.” Eating breakfast downstairs, he asked, “You know a lot about this?” Alarm bells rang. Was he replaced? “Not much more than you.” He nodded. “There haven’t been any new Doppelganger games in three years. Why bring it up?” “I’m replaying old ones.” He looked disappointed. “Thought there was a new game to stream. My follower count is dropping.” His logic seemed sound, but I had my own test. “Come with me to the car wash.” He was surprised. “You bought a car? Did you win the lottery? Don’t forget me when you’re rich. I can call you Mom if the breakup fee is high enough.” In my bag were two black rooks from a Xiangqi (Chinese Chess) set. I planned to use them on Jessica, but he was first. At the car wash, he asked, “Where’s the car? We walked here.” I pulled out the two chess pieces (which are called ‘Cars’ in Chinese). “Wash these cars.” He gave me the Nick Young question mark face. ??? “You’re hilarious.” “Find a tap and wash them yourself, don’t prank the workers.” I stared into his eyes, heart pounding. No system prompt. I sighed in relief. “Never mind. Let’s go.” He looked at me. “You’re acting weird. Are you a Doppelganger?” I hesitated, but decided not to reveal my identity. “Just be careful. Some have infiltrated.” He looked down at me. “Are you tired lately?” I felt the difficulty of convincing him. I could convince anyone easily, I just chose not to. Selfishness won over love. “Just keep an eye out.” He smiled. “I’m a horror game streamer. Don’t worry.” After parting ways, I met up with Jessica to go shopping. My next move: buy the same item repeatedly at the same stall. After buying lilies for the sixth time at the corner florist, the prompt chimed: [Mimic Points +10.] [Over ten Doppelgangers witnessed this.] 4 I froze, holding the flowers. I scanned the florist, Jessica, and the bustling street outside. Jessica complained, “If you like them so much, buy more. I’m losing my mind here.” The clerk kept her customer service smile, but her eyes were weird. “Enough. Let’s go back.” Back in the dorm, I threw all the lilies in the trash, put the empty vase on the balcony, and filled it to the brim with water. Jessica stared at me like the screaming marmot meme. “Huh?!” System: [Mimic Points +10. The Doppelganger’s brain has been impacted. It cannot believe what it is seeing is real and not a hallucination.] I smiled at her. Gotcha. As I went to close the door, she quietly locked it. The other two roommates were out and wouldn’t be back soon. She was thinking the same thing I was. I smiled and didn’t call her out. Jessica walked up to me. “Maya, I lied yesterday. I know something about the missing girl.” I feigned surprise. “Why didn’t you say so?” She looked around and whispered, “Because one of the other two is a Doppelganger.” The weasel paying respects to the chicken. I sneered internally but kept a straight face. “How can Doppelgangers be real?” She looked anxious. “You have to believe me. Her death is related to them.” “She died?” Jessica nodded. “I saw it. Two weeks ago, I went to Mr. Lee’s office about the choir. I saw that girl leaving.” “She mentioned our room. She said: ‘Mr. Lee, someone in 301 is following me.’” “Mr. Lee told her to calm down, said it was impossible.” “She said: ‘I’ll find proof!’” I said, “That doesn’t prove she’s dead.” Jessica looked at me. “I have proof. Under Emily’s bed. Go look if you don’t believe me.” Unsure of her game, I shook my head. “I can’t rummage through people’s stuff.” She looked exasperated. “Why are you so stubborn!” Jessica stood up, went to Emily’s bed, and pulled out a human skin. “See? Believe me now?” I looked at her strangely. “But that’s your bed.” She smiled sinisterly. “Yes, it is.” I bent down to look. My two eyeballs popped out like ping pong balls and rolled towards her, staring straight up. I stood up, empty sockets facing her. “My eyes fell out. Can you pick them up for me?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386078”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel