I’d been with Ethan for seven years before my mom finally agreed to meet him. At dinner, the moment my mom raised her cup, Ethan’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen and gave my mom an apologetic smile. “Just a moment, I need to take this call.” That moment turned into forty minutes. The food on the table had long since gone cold. When he came back, his jacket reeked of women’s perfume. My mom said nothing. She just looked at me. The disappointment in her eyes hurt more than any words of blame ever could. Ethan sat down beside me and ruffled my hair. “Sorry about that. Had a last-minute issue with a project.” I forced a smile. A few days later, I got my marriage certificate. Only the groom wasn’t him. When my mom left the restaurant, her back was slightly hunched. A taxi waited by the curb. Before she opened the door, she turned to look at me. “Rachel, just trust your own judgment.” Nothing more. I nodded and watched the taxi disappear into the night. Ethan stood behind me, his hand on my shoulder. “Is your mom upset?” “No,” I said. “That’s good.” He let out a relieved breath. “Next time I’ll put my phone on silent. Today was really just an accident.” I turned away, slipping out from under his hand. “What project?” “Hmm?” He looked confused. “You said there was an issue with a project,” I said, meeting his eyes. “What project requires you to step outside for a forty-minute phone call?” He paused, then smiled. “Listen to that tone. You sound like you’re suspicious of me. It was Serena’s proposal—there was a problem with it. It’s her first time handling a project this big, and she panicked. I had to calm her down.” Serena. His assistant. Six months with the company. Twenty-three years old. “That took forty minutes?” “Well,” he said, pulling me close—this time I didn’t dodge. “It should’ve taken ten minutes, but she started crying. I couldn’t just leave her like that. You know how girls are—once the emotions start, it’s a whole thing.” “Not like you, though.” He looked down at me, his gaze tender. “My Rachel always understands.” A bitter taste spread through my chest. It was always like this. He always said I was the most understanding, then felt perfectly justified giving his time and patience to someone else. “Ethan.” “Yeah?” “Today was the first time my mom met you.” His hand stilled. “I know.” “She dyed her hair specially for today.” My voice was flat. “She hasn’t dyed her hair in ten years.” Ethan was silent for a few seconds. Finally, he just patted my shoulder. “I know. That’s why I feel even worse. Next time, I promise I’ll make it up to her properly.” “Let’s find a time. I’ll take her to that Italian place she likes. Sound good?” He finished speaking and glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late. Let me take you home. I have an early meeting tomorrow.” He raised his hand to hail a cab. I stood there, watching his profile. The streetlight stretched his shadow long across the pavement. He was still the same Ethan—always saying things no one could fault. But suddenly I remembered three years ago, when my mom first said she wanted to meet him. Back then Ethan had said, “Let me get a bit more established first. I want to give her a better impression.” Two years ago, my mom brought it up again. He’d said, “Next year. Once this project wraps up, I’ll have more free time.” Last year, he said he was preparing for it. This year, they finally met. And then came today. The car stopped in front of my building. Ethan unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over for a goodnight kiss. I lowered my head, pretending to search through my bag, and avoided it. “I’m tired. Drive safe.” His hand froze mid-air. After a moment, he pulled it back. “Alright. Get some rest.” I got out of the car. The moment I closed the door, I heard his phone ring again. He answered it, his voice warm with laughter. “Still awake? Don’t cry. I looked over the proposal for you…” The car started and drove away. I stood downstairs, watching the taillights disappear around the corner. My phone buzzed. A message from my mom: “Are you asleep yet?” My finger hovered over the screen for a moment, then I typed: “Not yet.” After a while, she sent another message: “Rachel, I’m not old-fashioned. If you really love him, I won’t stop you.” “But I’ll say this once.” “Don’t undervalue yourself.”

I sat on the couch until two in the morning. Only a floor lamp lit the living room. On the coffee table lay a photo of my mom and me, taken on her birthday last year. In the picture, her eyes were crinkled into crescents from smiling, holding the scarf I’d given her. I’d spent a month picking out that scarf. It cost half my monthly salary. When Ethan saw the price tag, he’d said, “You’re buying her something this expensive? She won’t even have anywhere to wear it.” I didn’t respond. I bought it anyway. My mom was so happy when she received it, but she never wore it out. She said she was saving it for an “important day.” Like today. I stared at her smiling face in the photo, feeling my throat tighten. I got up and went to my bedroom, pulling an old tin box from the top shelf of the closet. Inside were things from Ethan and me over the years. Movie ticket stubs, amusement park passes, birthday cards he’d written. At the very bottom was a yellowed sticky note he’d slipped into my backpack in college: “Once I graduate and start earning money, the first thing I’ll do is marry you, so your mom won’t worry.” The handwriting was messy, but every word pressed hard into the paper. I stuck the note back in the box and closed the lid. My phone buzzed again. A message from Ethan: “Did you get home? Get some sleep.” I stared at the message without replying. Five minutes later, he sent another: “Still mad?” “I booked an Italian restaurant for tomorrow lunch. I’ll take your mom. You come too.” I stared at the screen for a long time. Finally, I typed: “No need.” He replied quickly: “What’s wrong? Are you really angry?” “Rachel, I know I didn’t do well today, but you have to understand—Serena’s project is really important.” “I’m at a critical point in my career right now. Once I get through this phase, I’ll give you all my time, okay?” I didn’t respond. I closed the chat window and scrolled to a contact labeled “Mrs. White.” Three months ago, my mom had asked someone to set me up on a blind date. This was the mother of that potential match. I’d refused immediately back then. My mom had said, “Just keep the contact. You never know.” I’d saved it but never planned to use it. Now, I sent Mrs. White a message: “Hello Mrs. White, this is Rachel. About what we discussed before—would that still be possible?” After sending the message, I turned off my phone. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. My mind kept replaying my mom’s expression today. And the perfume smell on Ethan’s jacket. It wasn’t the brand I used. The next morning, when I woke up, I had over a dozen messages on my phone. Ethan had sent seven or eight, ranging from “good morning” to “why are you ignoring me” to “what’s wrong with you.” Mrs. White had replied: “Of course! The young man is wonderful. How about meeting this weekend?” And one from my mom: “Rachel, are you okay?” I replied to my mom first: “I’m fine. Don’t worry.” Then Mrs. White: “Yes, thank you Mrs. White.” Finally, I opened Ethan’s chat window. His latest message was from ten minutes ago: “Rachel, aren’t you being too childish?” “I already apologized. What more do you want?” I stared at those two sentences, my finger hovering over the screen for a long time. In the end, I typed: “Let’s break up.”

Ethan’s call came through three seconds later. I didn’t answer. He called five more times. When the sixth call came in, I picked up. Before I could speak, his voice came through. “Rachel, are you done throwing your tantrum?” His tone was clearly impatient. “I’m not throwing a tantrum,” I said. “I’m serious.” “Serious?” He gave a cold laugh. “You’re joking about breaking up? Rachel, how old are you? Why are you still so immature?” “I’m not joking.” “Then what do you mean?” His voice rose. “Just because I took a phone call yesterday, you want to break up with me? Don’t you think that’s ridiculous?” “It’s not because of yesterday,” I said calmly. “It’s because of these seven years.” He paused. “What seven years? What are you trying to say?” “I’m saying,” I looked out the window, “I’m tired, Ethan.” “I’ve waited seven years. You’re always waiting for the next time. Next time the project ends, next time things are more stable, next time you have more time.” “But there’s never a next time.” He was silent for a few seconds, then his voice softened. “Rachel, I know you feel wronged. But you have to understand—I’m at a critical point in my career right now…” “I understand,” I interrupted him. “I’ve always understood.” “So you—” “But I don’t want to understand anymore.” The line went quiet for a moment. “Rachel,” his voice turned cold again, “did your mom say something to you?” “I could see her expression yesterday. She clearly has a problem with me. Did she tell you to break up with me?” My grip on the phone tightened. “This has nothing to do with my mom.” “How does it have nothing to do with her?” His tone carried a hint of sarcasm. “You were never like this before. You saw her yesterday and suddenly you changed.” “Rachel, you’re twenty-nine years old. Can you stop listening to everything your mom says?” I closed my eyes. “Ethan, I’m meeting someone this weekend.” “Who?” “A blind date.” The line went completely silent. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice full of disbelief. “What did you say?” “I said I’m going on a blind date this weekend.” “Rachel!” He practically shouted. “Do you even know what you’re saying?!” “I do,” I said, my voice flat. “I’m completely clear-headed.” “Clear-headed?” He laughed bitterly. “If you were clear-headed, you wouldn’t say something like this!” “A blind date? You’ve been with me for seven years, and now you’re going on a blind date? Rachel, do you have any—” “We’ve already broken up,” I interrupted. “As of right now.” “So me going on a blind date is perfectly reasonable.” “You—” He seemed too angry to speak. After a long moment, he finally said, “Fine. Go.” “Go on your blind date. Meet a hundred people if you want.” “Rachel, I’ll be watching to see how long you can keep this act up.” He hung up. I put down the phone. My hand was trembling slightly. But my heart felt calm.

My mom called ten minutes later. “Rachel, did you and Ethan have a fight?” I was startled. “How do you know?” “He just called me.” My mom’s voice sounded tired. “He said you’re going on a blind date and asked me to talk you out of it.” “He also said you were influenced by me, and told me not to give you bad ideas.” I closed my eyes. “Mom, don’t worry about it. This is my own decision.” “I know.” She said, “I just wanted to ask if you’re serious about this.” “Yes.” The line was silent for a moment. “Then I support you.” Her voice was soft. “You’re my only daughter. I just want you to be happy.” “If he truly cared about you, I wouldn’t care about losing face yesterday.” “But if he can’t even care that much, I can’t trust him with you.” My eyes began to sting. “Mom…” “Don’t cry.” Her voice carried a hint of a smile. “Why cry? This is a good thing.” “I already asked Mrs. White about it. The man is a teacher—solid and reliable. Meet him this weekend. If it doesn’t work out, just think of it as making a friend.” “And if it works out…” She paused. “I hope you won’t be deceived by a man again.” Tears rolled down my cheeks. “Mom, I disappointed you.” “Silly child,” she sighed. “You’ve never disappointed me. I just feel bad for you.” After hanging up, I sat on the couch in a daze for a long time. My phone buzzed again. A message from my best friend Sophie: “I heard you’re going on a blind date?!!” “Did that jerk Ethan call you?” I replied: “I’m the one who initiated the breakup.” She responded instantly: “You should’ve broken up ages ago!!” “I’ve been side-eyeing him forever!!” “Remember your birthday last time? He said he was on a business trip, but I saw his assistant’s location check-in on social media—she was in the same city!” I stared at this message, my fingers going cold. I called Sophie. “When was this?” “Last month, on your birthday.” Sophie said, “I wanted to tell you then, but you were swamped with that project. I didn’t want to distract you.” “Wait, let me find it for you.” Soon, she sent me several screenshots. From Serena’s social media. The photos showed a restaurant with candlelight and wine on the table. The caption read: “Thanks to Mr. Hayes for the guidance. This newbie is finally making progress!” The location showed our city. Posted at 8 PM on my birthday. That day, Ethan had told me he was on a business trip in another city. The project was urgent, and he’d have to work late. He told me to celebrate my birthday without him and promised to make it up when he got back. I stared at that photo for a long time. Candlelight, wine, warm lighting. And Serena’s eyes curved into crescents from smiling. “Rachel, are you okay?” Sophie asked carefully. “I’m fine.” I heard my own voice, completely calm. “Thank you for telling me.” “Are you really going on this blind date?” “Yes.” “Then I’m coming with you.” She said, “I’m not letting you go alone.” I smiled slightly. “Okay.” After hanging up, I opened my chat history with Ethan. I scrolled up to a month ago. That day I’d messaged him: “When are you coming back?” He’d replied: “The project’s a bit tricky. Might be a couple days late. Happy birthday, babe. I’ll make it up to you when I get back.” I’d responded with: “Okay.” Looking at that message now. Every word felt like a joke. That weekend, Sophie came with me to meet the person Mrs. White had introduced. His name was Nathan, thirty-one, a high school teacher. He was a quiet person, didn’t talk much, but answered questions very earnestly. He asked me, “Have you really broken up?” I was taken aback. He smiled. “I heard you had a boyfriend you were with for a long time. I don’t mind, but I want to know if you’ve really moved on. I don’t want to be anyone’s substitute.” I looked at him, suddenly feeling this person was very sincere. “I’ve moved on,” I said. “Or rather, I’m in the process of moving on.” He nodded. “That’s good.” “I can wait for you to fully move on.” After the meeting ended, Sophie pulled me aside. “This guy’s pretty good. Way better than that scumbag Ethan.” “And did you see how he looked at you? He genuinely likes you.” I smiled without responding. My phone buzzed. A message from Ethan: “Done with the blind date?” “So, how was it? Meet your standards?” His tone dripped with sarcasm. I didn’t reply. He sent another message: “Rachel, I’m giving you three days to cool off.” “If you don’t come back after three days, don’t blame me for what happens next.” I looked at this message and smiled faintly. I closed the chat window. Opened my contacts and sent Nathan a message: “Nathan, thank you for today. If it’s convenient, could we get our marriage certificate tomorrow?” He replied quickly: “Of course.” I put away my phone. Sophie leaned over. “What are you texting?” “Getting married tomorrow.” “So fast?!” Her eyes widened. “You’re serious?” I looked across the street at a coffee shop. Five years ago, Ethan had told me in that very place that once his career stabilized, he’d marry me. “Yes. Completely serious.”

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On the fifth day of my husband Owen’s business trip, his cousin Louise suddenly sent me a message. “Bruna, I saw the obituary Owen posted on Ins. I’m in postpartum confinement right now, so I can’t make it to your father’s funeral. Don’t be too sad. Take care of yourself and the baby.” My whole body froze. My dad was perfectly fine. What funeral? Also, Owen and I were childfree—where did this baby come from? I suppressed my inner unease and gave her a brief reply. Then I used a burner account, pretending to be his relative, and added Owen on Ins. Sure enough, I saw that obituary! I immediately drove three hours to the funeral venue. In the solemn funeral hall, I met Owen’s other “wife” from his Ins. She looked at me with red-rimmed eyes, her voice choked with emotion: “You must be Owen’s relative, right? Thank you so much for taking time out of your busy schedule to attend my father’s funeral.” My heart surged with shock as I carefully examined the woman before me. She wore an expensive black dress and only light makeup, yet it was clear she was extremely well-maintained. I tried to calm myself down, but my voice still trembled uncontrollably: “Where’s Owen?” “He’s…” “Mommy!” Before Emily could finish, a five or six-year-old boy rushed right over to her. My breath caught. That face was like a miniature version of Owen. Counting the time, I’d been married for five years. That meant Owen had been juggling two women at almost the same time. So, did she know about my existence? Between her and me, who was the mistress? After our marriage, Owen said he was afraid I’d work too hard, so he wanted us to be childfree. His family never gave me trouble over this even once. I’d always been touched by his thoughtfulness. Never did I imagine the truth was that he’d had a son with another woman! Emily crouched down and ruffled the child’s hair. A smile appeared on her pale face: “Jimmy, be good. I still have things to do. Go find Grandma.” My heart jolted. Mother-in-law Antonelli actually knew about all this! The boy nodded obediently and ran to an old lady. That was none other than Antonelli, who had been “bedridden with chronic illness.” Right now, she was holding her grandson and walking as spryly as could be. In my memory, from the first time I met Antonelli, she’d been sickly. Every day she took more pills than she ate food, and year-round she was practically a hospital regular. The reimbursement receipts Owen submitted piled up like a small mountain. My expression darkened, my voice trembling as I probed with a remark: “The old lady seems really healthy.” Emily didn’t notice my abnormal reaction. She sighed, her words carrying gratitude: “Yes, Antonelli loves me like her own daughter. She raised the child.” “I don’t work, and she gives me $20,000 in living expenses every month.” My heart clenched violently, and a suffocating feeling instantly enveloped my entire body. Owen lived with my family. Shortly after our marriage, he’d had surgery for a severe herniated disc. Since then, he’d been unemployed at home, responsible for taking care of household meals and chores. To support the family, I threw myself into business trips and overtime. I worked my way up from director to CEO, and naturally my salary rose accordingly. My father-in-law passed away early, and Owen had depended on Antonelli. To put his mind at ease, I’d suggested several times that we bring Antonelli to live with us, but he’d refused with various excuses. So I transferred $22,000 to Antonelli every month for medical and living expenses. It turned out this mother-son pair had been using it all to support his mistress and bastard child! There were quite a few guests at the wake. Emily didn’t notice my emotional state and brought me over to Owen’s relatives. I looked at these people’s faces—each one more unfamiliar than the last. Yet they all acted very familiar with Emily. “Emily, you’re the apple of Owen’s eye.” “For him and the child, you must take care of yourself.” Emily smiled bitterly, her left hand moving to her lower abdomen. “Don’t worry, I will.” They even had a second child on the way! I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms, yet I felt no pain. Using the excuse that his hometown was too far, Owen had even kept our wedding simple. After marriage, I’d never heard of him keeping in touch with any relatives. I’d had my doubts. But he would sigh heavily and say that after his father died early, those relatives bullied him and his mother. Naturally, there wasn’t much point in keeping in touch. Only now did I understand—these relatives weren’t avoiding contact with him. They were just avoiding contact with me! In their eyes, they only recognized Emily as Owen’s wife. Owen, what kind of enormous trap did you set for me?!

The relatives around them kept praising Emily: “Owen is really good to you. I heard he claimed to be taking leave for surgery, but actually came home to keep you company. What a good man!” “Such strong work capability, always the top salesperson, and he hands over all his money, even has to report his pocket money to you.” “You don’t know how much we all envy you.” Emily’s face flushed, happiness practically overflowing from her eyes. “I’ve told him too that he needs to spend money when he’s out, and doesn’t need to be so hard on himself.” “But he cares about me, says he’s afraid I won’t feel secure, and he’s willing to let me manage things.” Only then did I realize—the surgery, being unemployed—it was all fake! “I heard Owen is about to be promoted to director, right?” “He’s so capable, he’ll definitely treat his wife even better in the future.” My heart jolted again. Director? How utterly ridiculous! Owen had a job, and I didn’t know. He had such a high salary, yet still felt entitled to spend my earnings. I’d never even seen him bring home a single penny! In reality, he’d given it all to another woman, supporting another household! Emily’s tone was gentle as she continued: “Owen is the best person I’ve ever met. Being able to marry him is the greatest blessing of my life.” “When he heard something happened to my dad, he rushed over immediately and arranged this entire funeral.” A few days ago, Owen had looked flustered, saying he needed to accompany a newly employed friend on a business trip. In reality, he came to be this woman’s support. And I’d thought he was being loyal to his friends. Turns out, the clown was me all along. “Not only that, everyone knows he’s afraid you’ll get tired, so he even hired a housekeeper for you.” “Emily, look how well-maintained you are, like a girl in her early twenties. You don’t look like a mother at all.” I thought of looking in the mirror before leaving—the exhausted face staring back at me. I was only thirty, but excessive overtime and running myself ragged for our small household had left me haggard. Yet the woman before me had clear eyes, unburdened by daily necessities. All because she had an Owen who loved her to the bone. But I didn’t. Emily’s eyes curved into crescents, the grief from our first meeting already more than half gone. “What touches me most is how good he is to my parents—so much better than me, their own daughter.” “He visits them every week, bringing all kinds of nutritional supplements. Each time he also transfers tens of thousands to them.” Perhaps mentioning her late father, Emily couldn’t help but shed two more tears. Because my dad was rather domineering, he disagreed with Owen and me being together from the start. I was blind, insisting I had to marry him. After marriage, to protect his pitiful little ego. I resolutely moved out of my villa and bought a small two-bedroom to have our own little world. Though it wasn’t far from my dad’s house, I rarely went back because of work. Owen would only visit my dad during holidays, going through the motions perfunctorily. It seemed cold, yet I couldn’t pick out any specific faults. He spent four days almost every week visiting his “sick” mother Antonelli. In reality, he came here to reunite with Emily’s family. He even used the William family’s money to give to his “in-laws” here. What a “good son-in-law”!

Owen called Emily: “Honey, I’ve bought everything needed for the burial.” “Don’t worry, everything for our dad is absolutely the best.” “Stop crying so much. You need to take care of your health. Our family will depend on you from now on.” Emily was moved to tears: “Owen, you’re the one who works hardest for our family.” “Don’t rush. There’s still time. Drive carefully and stay safe.” After hanging up, an old lady in a wheelchair came to Emily’s side. “Emily, where’s Owen?” Emily wiped away her tears and forced a smile. “Mom, he’ll be home soon.” She looked at me again. “I still have things to attend to. Could you help look after my mom?” With that, she turned to greet other newly arrived guests. Emily’s mother Laura sighed softly: “Emily’s father passed away suddenly. Owen prepared this wheelchair for me, afraid I’d be overcome with grief.” “He means well, so I can’t refuse this kindness.” Mentioning Owen, Laura’s face filled with pride. My heart had already gone numb with pain. Inadvertently, I caught sight of the gold earrings on Laura’s ears—they were my mother’s heirlooms! I thought I was seeing things, so I leaned closer to confirm several times. Both earrings had scratches I’d accidentally made as a mischievous child. In exactly the same positions! I was certain—these were my mother’s belongings! Inner fury surged up, rushing straight to my head. I reached out my hand, wanting nothing more than to rip them off right now and burn all bridges! But ultimately reason prevailed over impulse, and I didn’t do it! I did want to blow up this scene, but not to become a laughingstock! Making a scene like that would only make people think I was crazy. That would be too easy on Owen and this family. I retracted my hand frozen in midair. Laura asked me: “Are you married?” I tried to keep my tone steady: “Yes.” “How does your husband treat you?” “He cheated on me, wouldn’t let me have children, but secretly had a bastard with some tramp. He even used my family’s money to support that household.” Laura was slightly stunned, seemingly not expecting me to say such things, then anger appeared on her face. “Disgusting! That man is absolute trash, and that mistress and her family are no good either.” Her words actually carried some indignation on my behalf. “People like that belong in hell.” “You can’t let them off easy, or they’ll think you’re a pushover.” Coincidentally, that’s exactly what I was thinking. Just then, Owen called me, his tone urgent: “Bruna, something happened with my friend.” “I urgently need fifty thousand dollars. Transfer it to me quickly!” My hand holding the phone kept trembling. I suppressed my rage and asked back: “What happened?” “Did someone in the family die?” Owen was stunned, seemingly not expecting me, who usually supported him unconditionally, to say such a thing: “Why are you talking like that?” “Is that harsh?” “What do I care about their business?” “Figure it out yourselves!” After hanging up, within seconds, a new message from Owen came through. [You usually act so understanding, but you’re actually this heartless.] [Bruna William, don’t regret this!] The next second, Emily’s phone chimed with a new message, and she walked over to Laura. “Mom, Owen says he bought you some jewelry.” Laura smiled and said, “That boy, so extravagant.” While looking at the images Emily passed her on the phone. When I saw that jewelry, I completely froze on the spot. They were all my mother’s heirlooms!

I finally understood what he meant by telling me not to regret it. This man wasn’t satisfied with just giving away the earrings—he had to go this far! It truly refreshed my understanding of him once again. How could someone be so shameless?! “Mom, Owen says it’s only right to be filial to you.” “He also says after Dad’s funeral is over, he’ll take a few days off work to take you out to relax.” “Even if just for us, you must take care of your health.” Emily’s voice trembled, tears instantly welling up. Laura’s eyes filled with tears as she gripped Emily’s hand and nodded firmly. Seeing this scene, my emotions were incredibly complex. A loving mother and filial daughter, a harmonious family. Without all this mess, I might have admired them like everyone else. But all these happy scenes were built on trampling the happiness of me and my entire family! Emily gracefully attended to the guests like a competent hostess. Laura in front of me sighed deeply again, as if talking to me, yet also to herself: “Owen even suggested bringing me to live at his place.” She pulled out a grayscale photo of her late husband from her pocket. She touched the smiling face in the photo, a tear falling. “Owen is a good man who knows how to care for people.” “Emily is with him, so you can rest in peace.” “Even I can close my eyes without worry now.” I instinctively clenched my fists, my brows furrowing. My heart felt like it was being stirred by something, unbearably painful. But whatever is owed must be repaid, no matter who it is, right? Images suddenly flashed through my mind. When Mom was critically ill, I knelt crying by her bed, hands trembling as I accepted the jewelry box. Mom said this was my dowry, and also a safeguard in marriage. Dad had a huge fight with me, determined to stop me from marrying beneath myself to Owen. When he learned I’d gotten married, he fell ill from anger. But he still offered me an olive branch first, telling me if I ever suffered any grievance, he would always be my support. In a trance, I seemed to see myself again, working late at the office that night. My heart full of expectations for a happy marriage. Now, the dream was completely shattered. I couldn’t help clutching the pregnancy test in my bag—one I’d stroked so many times it was creased. It read: Pregnant, eight weeks. I’d planned to tell Owen this good news when he returned from his business trip. But sadly… “Emily, I’m here.” Owen’s shout brought me back from my thoughts. I saw him gently embrace Emily, coaxing her like a child, wiping the tears from her eyes. I’d never seen such deep affection in his eyes. I was also hearing that tender tone for the first time. “Don’t be afraid, I’m here for everything.” I never knew he had such a responsible side. As for the other secrets he was hiding, I had no interest in knowing anymore. Watching the two of them openly display their affection, my heart felt no ripples. Turns out when anger reaches its extreme, it becomes abnormally calm. “By the way, where’s your mom?” “One of your relatives is looking after her.” Owen let out a long breath and nodded. “Then we should really thank them.” With that, his gaze pierced through the crowd and landed on a familiar figure. And I walked up to the podium and picked up the microphone: “Owen, my husband. How are you going to thank me?” The entire funeral hall instantly fell dead silent. His heart skipped a beat. Owen looked up in utter shock. When his eyes met mine, his pupils contracted and all color drained from his face.

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On my wedding night, I caught my good friend Judson and my wife Doman in bed together. Crying, they claimed they were drunk and confused. They knelt at my door for three days and three nights. When they saw I was determined to divorce, Doman slit her wrists, and Judson got a vasectomy. Under the repeated persuasion of friends and family, I eventually softened. For seven years, she was gentle and considerate. Everyone praised her for knowing her mistake and reforming. Until my father-in-law Andrew’s birthday, when my six-year-old sister-in-law hugged Doman’s leg and asked: “Where’s my daddy?” I smiled and pointed at Andrew behind me: “Jones, your dad is right there, isn’t he?” Jones turned her head and said crisply: “I’m talking about my real daddy.” I froze and looked awkwardly at Doman. Her expression remained calm as she looked up at me and said: “Samuel, there’s something I never told you. Actually, Jones isn’t my parents’ child. She’s mine and Judson’s daughter.” I heard her words and froze in place. My brain felt like someone had punched it hard. It was buzzing. “What did you say?” My voice was trembling, full of disbelief. Doman put Jones down and patted her back: “Be good, go to Grandma.” Jones bounced over to my mother-in-law Eve. Eve scooped her up, her eyes darting away, not daring to look at me. Doman turned around, her expression so calm it was chilling. “Jones is mine and Judson’s child. Judson got a vasectomy. He’ll never have children in this lifetime, so I gave birth to her.” She paused, looking at Jones who was playing with Eve’s hair, her tone as casual as discussing what to eat today. “I originally planned to keep it from you for life.” I staggered back a step, grabbing the dining table behind me to keep from falling. “Then you… why are you telling me now?” My throat felt like it had been scraped with sandpaper. Every word tasted of blood. Before Doman could speak, Andrew stood up. He looked at me, his voice heavy: “It was my idea.” I jerked my head up to look at him. “Jones is already six years old. Your mom and I are getting old. We can’t raise a child properly.” “We don’t want to keep making this mistake!” My chest felt like someone was squeezing it. I couldn’t breathe. Eve suddenly put Jones down and pushed her toward the bedroom: “Jones, be good, go play inside. I’ll come keep you company in a bit.” When the bedroom door closed, she turned around. The expression on her face had completely changed. “Samuel, don’t blame Doman. If you hadn’t insisted on divorce back then, Judson wouldn’t have gotten a vasectomy. We were the ones who told Doman to give birth.” She paused, her tone self-righteous: “Judson is our adopted son. We had to leave him an heir!” My brain went blank. Doman had said back then that Eve had a late-life pregnancy and was afraid of gossip, so she went to Europe to give birth. Doman went along to take care of her for a whole year. I thought she was being filial. It turned out it wasn’t Eve having a baby. It was her having a baby. I raised my head and looked at Doman. This woman I had loved for ten years. We met in college and married after graduation. I thought we were a perfect match. But on our wedding night, she rolled into bed with her adoptive brother, my best friend. I asked for a divorce. She knelt on the ground begging, her forehead hitting the floor with loud thuds. Judson knelt beside her, a grown man trembling and crying. Seeing I wouldn’t compromise, the next day, she slit her wrists. When I rushed to the hospital, she lay in the bed, pale as paper, but gripping my hand tightly. “Samuel, I was wrong… please don’t divorce me…” “Without you, I’ll really die…” I softened. Judson also got a vasectomy that same day, saying he would spend the rest of his life atoning. Everyone urged me: “She slit her wrists, he got a vasectomy. What more do you want?” I thought about it for a whole month, convincing myself to forgive her, convincing myself to forget that night, convincing myself to love her again. I did it. For seven years, I forgot about that incident and treated her sincerely. I thought she had really changed. But now it seemed, all of this was just a joke! After a long silence, I raised my head and stared coldly at Doman, saying word by word: “Doman, let’s get divorced.” My voice was so soft I could barely hear it myself. When the words fell, Andrew and Eve’s expressions changed completely. Doman also froze, her brows furrowing tighter. “Over such a small matter?” She turned her head, impatience in her tone. I laughed, laughed until my eyes stung. “Small matter?” “Doman, you had someone else’s child and raised her right under my nose. That’s a small matter?” She sighed, turned to look at me, her eyes calm. “Samuel.” She placed her hand on her lower abdomen. “I’m pregnant.” “Are you sure you want to divorce me?”

I froze at her words. “What did you say?” Doman removed her hand from her abdomen and looked up at me, her eyes as calm as a stagnant pool. “Your dad has late-stage liver cancer. He doesn’t have much time left.” “Before he dies, doesn’t he just want to see you have a child?” I felt like all the strength had been drained from my body. These past seven years, I had mentioned having a child to Doman countless times. The first year, she said her career was just starting, to wait a bit longer. The second year, she said she wanted to enjoy our two-person world for a few more years. The third and fourth years, she always said she was busy, always said there was no rush. I thought she didn’t want children. I thought she was really planning for our future. But now, she was using a child as leverage to threaten me. In my mind, I saw my father in his hospital bed. When I visited him last week, he was so thin he was unrecognizable, yet he still held my hand and smiled. “Samuel, I don’t have many regrets in this life. I just want to see you have a child.” “You and Doman have been together seven years. It’s time to have a child.” I kept my head down, unable to speak. He patted my hand, smiling with expectation. “It’s okay, I can still hold on. I can still help you take care of the baby.” I closed my eyes and clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms. Eve came over, her tone softening. “Samuel, you and Doman have been together so many years. Can you really bear to divorce?” Andrew also walked over, his head down as he said in a muffled voice: “Doman did wrong in this matter, but these years… how she’s treated you, you know in your heart.” “For the child’s sake, both of you back down a bit.” I opened my eyes suddenly, a bitter smile pulling at the corner of my mouth. Had Doman treated me well? Yes. After that incident, she was attentive to me in every way. Every morning when I opened my eyes, there was always a pressed shirt at the bedside. Whatever I liked to eat, she learned to make it at home. No matter how troublesome, she was willing to learn. When I worked overtime until late at night, she always left a light on, with soup warming in the pot. When I had a fever and was hospitalized, she stayed by my bed for three days and nights without closing her eyes. Everyone said I was lucky. “Your wife treats you so well. I’ve never seen anyone so considerate.” “You two are such a perfect match. You’ll definitely grow old together.” Even Andrew and Eve, because of that incident back then, were especially good to me. During holidays, Andrew personally cooked my favorite dishes. When my parents visited, Eve would accompany them shopping all day without complaining. I thought she had really changed. I thought the woman who knelt before me and slit her wrists was really spending the rest of her life in repentance. But it turned out all of this was just an act performed for me. I raised my head and looked at the three people in front of me, saying hoarsely: “So, what do you want me to do?” “Just acknowledge this child?” As soon as I finished speaking, Doman pulled out a document from her bag and handed it to me. “This is a property division agreement.” I looked down. The content was painfully glaring. It stated that no matter how many children Doman and I had in the future, 70% of the family assets would belong to Jones. Including the old house my dad left me. I was stunned and looked up at her in disbelief: “You want me to leave most of my assets to your illegitimate daughter?” Doman showed no guilt. She looked at me with complete self-righteousness. “Samuel, you don’t like Jones. In the future, you definitely won’t be able to treat both children equally.” “I’m just fighting for a bit more for Jones. Is that wrong?” “I just want to give my child security.” I opened my mouth but couldn’t speak for a moment. I just felt it was ridiculous. She wanted to give her child security, so she had to sacrifice my interests and my child’s interests? Why should I? I was about to argue when the doorbell suddenly rang. Eve walked over to open the door. Standing outside was a man in casual clothes, with a faint smile on his face: “I’m back.”

Judson’s voice carried into the living room. Everyone froze. Andrew and Eve’s faces first flashed with disbelief, then were overtaken by enormous joy. “Judson? Really?” Doman was even more excited, her eyes reddening. She unconsciously walked a few steps toward the door. Judson entered, first holding Eve’s hand and saying gently: “Mom, I’m back.” His gaze swept across the room. When he saw me, the smile at the corner of his mouth stiffened. “Samuel, you’re here too.” I forced out a smile that looked worse than crying. Seven years. Judson seemed not to have changed at all, except for a bit more gentleness in his expression. Did he know Doman had given birth to his child? Just as I was thinking this, the bedroom door suddenly pushed open. Jones, hearing the sound, ran out. The moment she saw Judson, her eyes lit up. Like a little butterfly, she flew into his arms. “Daddy! You’re finally here! I missed you so much!” Judson quickly held the child in his arms, the affection in his eyes overflowing. “I missed you too.” Jones wrapped her arms around his neck and looked at Doman, saying in a sweet voice: “Mommy missed you too. She looks at your photos every day.” Hearing this, Judson looked up at Doman, his gaze tender as water. Watching their happy family of three, I felt cold all over. Finally, I just laughed in anger. So they had known all along. Only I, like a fool, had been kept in the dark for seven whole years. I looked at Judson, my voice cold as ice. “Don’t you owe me an explanation?” I stared at him hard, asking word by word: “Didn’t you say you would never appear in front of me again?” As soon as I finished speaking, the smile on Judson’s face froze. He handed the child to Eve and looked at me, struggling to speak: “Samuel, I’m sorry, I…” “Enough!” Before he could finish, Doman sharply interrupted. She quickly walked to Judson’s side and glared at me: “Samuel, Judson finally came back. Are you going to drive him away again?!” Andrew and Eve also snapped out of it and immediately glowered at me. “Samuel, Judson has been gone for seven years. What more do you want?” “Exactly! This is our home. If anyone should leave, it’s you!” Jones also broke free from Eve’s embrace, rushed over, and pushed me hard, screaming: “You’re a bad person! Don’t bully my daddy!” I looked at their united front, looked at Doman’s undisguised disgust toward me. The last trace of warmth in my heart was completely crushed. “Fine, fine… I’ll leave!” Eyes red, I slammed the door and left. Leaving Andrew’s house, I drove toward the hospital. While waiting at a red light, I scrolled to Doman’s Twitter. It was a photo of their family of three. Judson holding Jones, Doman leaning against him, smiling radiantly. The caption read: [A happy family] I laughed, liked it, and left a comment under that post: [Brother becomes lover, sister becomes daughter. Quite happy indeed.] Less than a minute after posting the comment, Doman’s call came through. As soon as I answered, her angry accusations came pouring out: “Samuel, what do you mean?! Delete that comment right now!” I laughed coldly: “Isn’t what I said the truth?” “You!” She was furious. “Fine! You’ll regret this!” With that, she hung up. I tossed my phone to the passenger seat and floored the gas pedal. When I reached the hospital and went upstairs, I saw several nurses rushing a hospital bed toward the emergency room. And lying on the bed was my dad. I froze, my brain going blank. After coming to my senses, I frantically called Doman. “What did you do?!”

On the other end of the phone, her voice was cold and vicious. “What did I do?” “I just called your dad and told him I was going to abort the child in my belly!” “That the Simon family will be without descendants forever!!!” I was so angry my whole body shook. I roared into the phone: “Doman, are you insane! Don’t you know my dad is sick? Don’t you know he can’t handle shock?” “Get over here right now! Come tell my dad you were joking!” Doman laughed coldly: “Who told you to post that stuff on Twitter? Do you know how upset Judson was when he saw it?” “Do you know how much determination it took for him to come back?!” “Samuel, this is the price of speaking carelessly!” With that, she hung up directly. After that, no matter how many times I called, no one answered. Twenty minutes later, the light in the emergency room went out. The doctor came out, removed his mask, and shook his head at me. “There’s not much time left. Go in and see him.” All the strength in my body seemed to drain away. I staggered into the room and held my dad’s icy cold hand. He could no longer speak. He just looked at me weakly, his lips moving slightly. I understood from his lip movements. “Doman… child…” Tears burst from my eyes. I choked out: “Dad, don’t worry, the child is still there!” “She’s just mad at me, talking nonsense. Don’t take it seriously.” In my dad’s cloudy eyes, there seemed to be a glimmer of light. He struggled, as if wanting to say something. I leaned my ear closer and heard him use his last bit of strength to say: “Want… to see… Doman… and the child…” He wanted to see Doman. He wanted to see that unborn child. “Okay, okay, I’ll call her. I’ll call her right now!” With trembling hands, I took out my phone and called Doman’s number over and over, called Andrew’s house… all went unanswered. “Dad, wait, she’ll come soon, very soon…” I held my father’s increasingly cold hand, tears falling in large drops onto the back of his hand. I kept calling and texting, but there was never a response. My dad kept looking toward the doorway, the light in his eyes dimming bit by bit, little by little. Finally, I could only watch as my dad’s hand slowly dropped, watch as the line representing his heartbeat on the monitor became a flat line. “Dad——!!!” I knelt by the hospital bed, letting out a beast-like wail. Over the next few days, I handled my father’s funeral arrangements alone, without notifying anyone from Doman’s family. It wasn’t until a week later that my phone screen lit up. It was a message from Doman. [Tomorrow my parents are throwing a welcome party for Judson and announcing Jones’s identity. We’ll say Jones is our child to outsiders!] I looked at the words on the screen, expressionless. Seeing I didn’t reply, she sent a few more messages. [Alright, I know you’re still angry.] [Don’t worry, after the party ends, I’ll go with you to see Dad.] [We’ll bring Jones too, to make him happy.] [Remember to come tomorrow!] Seeing her mention my dad, a cold smile pulled at the corner of my mouth. I picked up my phone and replied with three words: [Got it.] After sending the message, I looked at the document envelope on the table. Doman, don’t worry. Not only will I come, I’ll prepare an unforgettable gift for all of you. The next afternoon, I appeared at the party on time. The hotel banquet hall was crowded. All the guests were relatives and friends from Doman’s side. Andrew and Eve stood on stage, beaming. “We’ve invited everyone here today to announce some great news!” “Our adopted son Judson, after working overseas for seven years, has finally come home!” Thunderous applause erupted below. Judson stood to the side in a sharp suit, smiling and nodding. Finally, Doman led Jones onto the stage. She took the microphone, smiling gently and gracefully. “There’s one more thing we want to share with everyone. Actually, Jones is mine and Samuel’s daughter.” She followed yesterday’s script, relating Jones’s “background” in detail. Finally, she looked at me with deep affection and said softly: “Now, let my husband, Samuel, say a few words too!” I was about to stand when Eve leaned close to my ear and whispered threateningly: “Don’t say anything crazy up there, or you’ll regret it!” I smiled, picked up the document envelope, and walked onto the stage. I took the microphone from Doman’s hand. Facing the crowd below, I said clearly, word by word: “Thank you all for coming today to attend mine and Doman’s—divorce party.” As soon as those words left my mouth, the entire room fell deathly silent.

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My husband, Alexander Vance, had recently taken in a not-so-obedient young woman. He spoiled her so much that she forgot her place and actually came to cause trouble right in front of me. The young woman’s eyes were bright, and she stubbornly refused to call me Mrs. Vance. “Miss Sterling, in love, the one who isn’t loved is the real third wheel.” I smiled, reached out a slender finger, and forcefully yanked the pearl earring from her ear. Drops of blood instantly bloomed on her earlobe. Behind us, Alexander appeared, his jaw tight. Chloe just stood there with red eyes: “Mr. Vance, please don’t be angry. Miss Sterling probably didn’t mean it.” Alexander just took my hand, blowing on it gently: “Abby, does your hand hurt?” Chloe stared at him in disbelief as a large tear rolled down her cheek. And I just offered a faint smile. 1 Chloe was taken away by Alexander’s secretary. She seemed to have a thousand things to say, probably not understanding how the man who had been somewhat gentle with her yesterday could turn like this today. Alexander’s affection for me wasn’t entirely fake. He noticed a faint, barely visible mark on my finger and kissed it repeatedly. “Abby, a woman like that isn’t worth dirtying your own hands,” he said, a hint of disapproval in his dark eyes. I looked at Alexander, my expression normal. I wasn’t surprised by his actions. We were childhood sweethearts, growing up together. By nature, he wasn’t a particularly docile person, yet he was always tolerant and considerate of me. In prominent, old-money families like ours, rotting marriages are everywhere. But he was the one I had actively chosen. Even when we got married, my best friend, Serena, was endlessly envious. After all, when people reach a certain status, they view basic moral constraints with cold indifference. Alexander was genuine toward me. Serena said that in elite families, fidelity is often viewed as a weakness. When wealth expands to a certain level, expecting a man to remain forever faithful is truly rare. For many arranged marriages between powerful families, maintaining a facade of peace is already an achievement. But Serena had seen how Alexander served me food, seen how he unknowingly smiled just at the mention of me. He truly cared for me. But his care wasn’t one hundred percent. In his position, not having beautiful women swarming around him would be abnormal. The few “understanding companions” Alexander occasionally kept were nothing in Serena’s eyes. It was just too common. It seems that when corruption becomes the norm, innocence becomes the anomaly. 2 Dinner was cooked by Alexander. For a young, successful man like him to be willing to cook was truly rare. Even my usually picky mother was full of praise. They all seemed to envy me for having the vast majority of Alexander’s love and his complete tolerance. I only had to frown, and Alexander could make whatever I disliked disappear forever. He carefully cut my steak for me, and I lowered my eyes, taking small, slow bites. His phone kept lighting up. I instinctively reached for it, and he, thinking I wanted the wine from his glass, thoughtfully handed it to me. When he saw I was reaching for his phone, he just smiled, picked up a napkin to wipe his hands, and then handed the phone to me. “Wife, it’s rare for you to check up on me.” The smile in his eyes was genuine. Alexander never really hid his “understanding companions” from me. It was probably because the men around him behaved far worse than he did. He gave his wife total respect, consideration, and always put me first. Moreover, even my own parents each had their own separate lives outside. I knew for a fact they had several illegitimate children. My mother didn’t have a son, so she chose a relatively decent illegitimate son to inherit the family business. He respected my mother and was quite protective of me, his sister. In old-money families, fidelity is a joke. No matter how gentle the surface appears, the bones are rotten. I unlocked the phone. I couldn’t find Chloe anymore. I understood; after offending me, Alexander wouldn’t let her off easily. Scrolling further down, I saw Mia. She had been by Alexander’s side for a while now. I had heard of her—a submissive, obedient type. When she saw me, she acted like a frightened quail. She kept her head as low as possible. Alexander was very satisfied with her tactfulness, so she was getting good resources now. A few days ago, I even saw her at a jewelry exhibition. I attended as Mrs. Vance. Alexander sat to my right, and Mia, wearing a diamond necklace, sat opposite us, essentially displaying that necklace to me. I glanced at it a couple of times, and Alexander bought it. Mia thanked me softly. She was very tactful, didn’t stay long, and certainly didn’t flaunt her status in my face. That night, Alexander even sensed my displeasure and whispered in my ear, “Don’t like her? I’ll swap her for someone else right away.” The affection in his eyes was real. Whatever I disliked, he could discard. I smiled, my eyes curving. “Alexander, aren’t you being a bit too sensitive?” Ever since we were little, I called him by his full name. When we were young, I would sit behind him on his bike, the wind blowing his shirt like a sail, and I would press my cheek against his back. It smelled like sunshine. It was the fluttering of a young heart. It was the budding of love. Alexander patted my hand. The lighting was dim, but his tone was sweet: “Abby, I often think about the path we’ve walked together.” I didn’t say a word, just stared silently into the distance. 3 That night, Alexander didn’t sleep beside me. He said he had business at the company. I properly straightened his clothes and watched him leave. Not long after, Serena called: “Hey, I think I saw your Alexander. He’s with my bastard husband. I heard they ordered quite a few escorts, but don’t worry, your Alexander doesn’t play that wild; it’s usually just one-on-one.” In the dark, I turned on the lamp: “And how many male models did you order?” Serena burst out laughing: “I used to invite you out, but you’re an outlier. You hate this stuff and don’t understand the fun of it. Abby, you need to broaden your horizons. It’s better when husbands and wives play together. If one stays strictly faithful, it just leads to frustration.” I remained silent. Her voice continued: “Abby, I know what you want. But you have to realize, when you reach a certain level, women swarm these men, and they’re surrounded by flattery and sycophants. It’s too hard to stay clean.” “I haven’t stayed clean,” I said quietly. Serena let out a sound of surprise, sounding very interested: “You’re keeping someone too? Who is it? Tell me.” I was just about to speak when I heard the sound of the front door unlocking. I smiled and hung up the phone abruptly. 4 I stood at the landing of the stairs, looking toward the door. Elias, dressed in simple, clean clothes, familiarly turned on the light, took off his shoes, and walked inside. The young man had gentle features. Seeing me, he offered a shy smile and made a gesture with his hands. I met Elias on a rainy day, right after I found out Alexander was seeing someone else. I was sitting on the bench at a bus stop, the rain mixing with my tears, dripping down continuously. When you love someone, you use all your strength, leading to possessiveness. Suddenly hearing about his infidelity, no matter how good your temper usually is, jealousy spreads through your entire body. But I had seen too much of this. My friends, relatives, and parents had all set very bad examples for me. When they talked about these things, they didn’t even take it to heart. For a long time, I felt like I was the freak. Even Serena, who understood me best, looked at my depressed state with sheer bewilderment: “Abby, the Vance family is valued at over thirty billion, and Alexander is the standout among them. With a status like that, it’s unrealistic for him not to have a few women hovering around.” Everyone told me to relax, that Alexander was just lacking in fidelity, and that it was a harmless flaw. But I suppressed my pain, not daring to show it, because I had seen how pathetic my mother looked. Vases shattered all over the floor; the torment made my usually gentle mother somewhat unhinged. Later, she frequently sought comfort outside too. At first, it was out of revenge, but later, it became an addiction. With a look of lust in her eyes, she told me that when you can’t fight it, you just have to go with the flow. Elias, holding an umbrella, appeared in front of me. The young man was very tall, his knuckles smooth like jade. When he smiled, dimples appeared on his cheeks. I looked up and told him to get lost. But he seemed not to hear me. He just tried to hand the umbrella to me. I poured all my unvented anger into the most vicious words directed at this stranger, but Elias only looked at me with a calm face. His eyes were as vast and accepting as the ocean. After a long while, he looked down at his phone and typed a sentence: [I’m sorry, I sent my hearing aids in for repair today. I can’t hear what you’re saying.] He smiled, his eyes curving like crescent moons. The words got stuck in my throat, unable to go up or down. I felt ashamed. I had actually vented my anger on such a gentle boy. We met again in a university lecture hall. I was invited as a successful alumna to speak about the ups and downs of life. During the ribbon-cutting ceremony, I saw him. As an outstanding student, he took a photo with me. Surprisingly, when I received that photo from my assistant, the boy’s features were gentle, radiant like stars and the moon. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I had my assistant send him a pair of high-end hearing aids. 5 While I was lost in thought, Elias, wearing a backpack, tapped on my car window. My assistant looked displeased, but I told her to shut up. The young man smiled and handed the expensive hearing aids back to me: “Hello, this belongs to you.” He looked at me calmly, and in that moment, I suddenly realized he had already forgotten that I was the pathetic woman in the heavy rain that day. After that, I frequently appeared near Elias. At first, I didn’t plan to do anything. It was probably just because people this pure rarely appeared around me. Maybe when money reaches a certain amount, life becomes truly boring, and you want to find some amusement. During that time, Alexander found his second “understanding companion”—a girl who dared to love and hate, bright and sunny. He was probably just enjoying the novelty of it and was so caught up in his pleasure that I rarely saw him. He even slipped up in front of me several times. I suppressed my anger, eating and watching TV in silence. Alexander would pat my hair: “But Abby, the path we’ve walked together is ultimately different.” Of course, I understood the meaning of those words, and I knew he meant it sincerely. After all, my relationship with him was indeed different. I never doubted his sincerity toward me. We were from equally matched families, both proud. In a secluded grassy field, I had spontaneously kicked off my heels and danced under the moonlight. He good-naturedly held my shoes, his eyes filled with nothing but my image. At our grand wedding, he said he would love me forever, but he didn’t say he would only love me forever. 6 Elias was reserved and strictly followed the rules. Before I even realized it, I suddenly noticed he had developed feelings for me. Because every time I spoke to him, the tips of his ears would turn bright red. Sometimes I couldn’t help but laugh and asked if he wanted to listen to me play the piano. At that time, the cherry blossoms were in full bloom. On the tree-lined campus path, students walked in twos and threes. I walked a long way with him. The hill behind the school was next to the train tracks, and cargo trains always passed by. That day, under the setting sun, the light flowed across his cheeks. Behind us was the deafening roar of the train. Elias touched my hand, seemingly afraid I would be startled by the noise. He reached out and covered my ears. His fingertips were warm. Right at that moment, the boy opened his lips and said a sentence. I asked him what he said, but he didn’t make a sound. Later, sitting in the car as it drove toward the residential enclave, I rested my hand against my forehead and suddenly smiled. Actually, after knowing Elias for a while, I had learned sign language and lip-reading. If I wasn’t mistaken, what Elias said then was, “I like you.” The boy’s love was earnest, but I felt despicable. He didn’t even know I was already married. Someone like him, bright and clean as the moon, could never understand the unspoken games played within elite families. 7 For a long time, Elias knew I suffered from insomnia at night, so he would take a cab to my house to read me stories. I didn’t cross any physical boundaries with him. Sometimes I even felt a bit self-destructive. I didn’t erase Alexander’s presence from the house, but interestingly enough, Alexander’s footprint in this house wasn’t that significant anyway. He was probably having too much fun outside, and later, while I maintained a calm facade, I had already distanced myself emotionally. Just like today, Elias read me a fairy tale as usual. I was raised by nannies when I was little. My parents’ love was there, but it didn’t feel deep. The classmates at my international school started competing with each other at age eight. My overly premature entry into adult life meant I wasn’t really exposed to fairy tales. I blinked and asked Elias: “So, the huntsman wanted to kill Snow White, but in the end, he let her go. Would Snow White forgive the huntsman?” He was used to answering my questions every day, so he wasn’t surprised. Without a moment’s hesitation, he answered directly: “She would.” “Why?” I asked him back. “If I were Snow White, I would never forgive. The person who wanted to kill me should burn in hell forever, never seeing the light of day.” “But why shouldn’t someone who realizes their mistake and turns back be forgiven?” he said from half a meter away. I don’t know what I was thinking in that moment. Since birth, I had never really cared about anything involving money. People around me flattered me, sought my favor; I had my own circle. Some people behaved recklessly, wildly, and even played some very intense games. Although I didn’t participate, I had seen so much of it that for a long time, I was used to it. I suddenly stood up, tilted my head, and kissed Elias on the cheek. His snow-white skin instantly turned beet red. His eyes shone with unshed tears as he blinked his large eyes: “Abby… Abby…” My chest filled with a warm sensation: “Elias, do you like me?” Even the boy’s neck turned bright red. 8 I didn’t expect Alexander to rush back. At that moment, I was wearing a loose sweater, reading a book under the lamp. He first scanned the room. Finding no one else, he relaxed and walked over to me. He casually took off his watch, his voice gentle: “Sorry, Abby. I didn’t tell you the truth. I was actually with Henry today.” Henry was Serena’s husband. I didn’t like him very much. Simply because Serena once had someone she was interested in, but it was an arranged marriage, and personal feelings were the least important factor. Henry had dealt with that man, and the man’s outcome wasn’t great; he fled abroad. When he left, he stubbornly asked Henry to treat Serena well, saying Serena was the best girl in the world and needed to be protected completely. That man never blamed Serena, nor did he blame Henry. When he left, he only took a book Serena had given him. Later, Serena didn’t have a very good life. Henry was arrogant and rebellious. Marrying her, aside from business needs, was also about showing her who was boss. Henry’s humiliation never made Serena cry. But I saw her in her vulnerable moments. On the day the man left, she hid in her room alone, looking up at the sky. The corners of her eyes were red. It seemed that character flaws weren’t a big deal among the men in their circle. Even if Alexander knew I was cold toward Henry, he wouldn’t say it to my face, but internally he felt Henry did nothing wrong. Many things, once they become commonplace, are taken for granted. I flipped through the fairy tale book and smiled faintly: “It’s okay. It’s just business.” Alexander reached out to touch my forehead, but pulled back because he was cold and smelled of perfume. “I’ll go take a shower first.” The smile was still on my face as he turned around. But when I saw the half-peeled orange on the cabinet, a sudden chill hit me. A massive shadow loomed over me, and I looked up. Alexander’s face looked normal; I couldn’t tell if he was happy or angry. “Abby, I remember there were no oranges in the house when I left. Did you tell someone to go out and buy them?” Even though he knew I didn’t like oranges, which was why they never appeared in the house, he still considerately gave me an excuse. I only needed to play along, and on the surface, we would probably go back to our old routine. “Alexander, when Serena called me, you heard it, didn’t you?” I put down the book and looked straight at his face. “That’s why you came back so suddenly.” Serena probably thought my comment about “not staying clean” was just a joke, because she couldn’t imagine someone as rigid as me keeping someone on the side. But Alexander knew I wasn’t the type to make that kind of joke. So he left the party, braving the wind and rain to come back. Hearing my words, Alexander’s eyes darkened, looking like spilled ink. 9 He casually tossed the orange onto the floor, his back exuding a chilling aura. I propped my head on my hand and pulled the blanket over me. Thunder rumbled, and lightning flashed. It made both our faces look a bit pale. After a long time, Alexander turned back around. He had reined in all his emotions and silently opened his cigarette case, asking if I minded. He rarely touched these things because he had incredible self-control and despised such crutches. Outside, the rain poured down. I nodded. He lit a cigarette, put it in his mouth, took a deep drag that burned half the cigarette, and finally calmed the suffocating anger in his chest. He asked me when I started seeing someone else. I answered truthfully. Alexander frowned deeply. After a while, he took a deep breath: “Abby, I thought you wouldn’t.” Why was Alexander so certain I wouldn’t play these high-society games? It was because I had once stumbled upon my mother cheating. The people in our families always seemed bound by interests; love was just icing on the cake, something dispensable. But my mother was different. She seemed to truly love my father. Many people teased her for being a hopeless romantic, and it was my mother who made me feel that love was sacred. But in the end, even my mother was blinded by this flashy world. She told me: “Fidelity is the least important thing, because we live in the center of a vortex.” But my mother’s courage back then remained etched in my heart. I thought someone always had to do what they believed was right. Alexander knew me too well. He knew I loved him. I was different from everyone else—nicely put, I was principled; bluntly put, I was stubborn. So, the fact that I had someone on the side caught him completely off guard. 10 But Alexander was still Alexander. He reached out and placed his hand over mine, feeling my pulse: “Abby, when are you going to let me meet this person? Let me vet him for you.” I pretended not to hear the probe in his words—whether the person I was keeping was true love or just to stave off loneliness. If it was the latter, he might breathe a sigh of relief. He probably hoped I would say those words voluntarily. After all, I had said long ago that we were childhood sweethearts, comrades, the two people who understood each other best in this world. Alexander wasn’t stupid. During those years when his family was unstable, I stayed completely devoted to him. My love for him was unquestionable, a pure sincerity unmatched by any of his later confidantes. I had long said that on the path Alexander and I walked in our youth, there would be no latecomers. What they saw was CEO Vance, the successful man. But once, he was just a young boy whose ears turned red over a declaration of love. “Alexander, you don’t need to test me. Let’s get a divorce.” I finally managed to say these words smoothly. It took me a full five years to reach this day. Alexander will probably never know how pathetic and heartbroken I was when his first “understanding companion” appeared. The girl’s smile was bright, Alexander was indulgent and doting, his brow relaxed in a way I had never seen. Novelty is always lethal. Probably out of despair, I fell severely ill, lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV. I listened to the nurses gossiping. They talked about how romantic Alexander was, buying 8,888 roses just to make a woman smile. They seemed to forget the existence of Mrs. Vance, as if in a tabloid scandal, the latecomer is always the pitiful one. Alexander was so caught up in his pleasure then, completely lacking his later calm indifference, that he failed to notice my abnormal state several times. I was proud by nature and absolutely refused to show weakness. But that night, my tears soaked the blanket. I felt a suffocating tightness in my chest that was agonizing and despairing. For a moment, I even thought I would die. So I called Alexander. It was a girl who answered, telling me Alexander was in the shower. She asked what Mrs. Vance needed. Probably because the illness was tormenting me, my attitude was very poor. I ordered her to give the phone to Alexander. The girl didn’t listen; she just cried. Alexander coaxed her and asked who was on the phone. When she told him, Alexander took the phone in silence. At that moment, I actually still held a glimmer of hope. Love really tortures the heart. I could feel my heart being lifted high. But he only told me: “Abby, you can’t be like Serena.” Serena and Henry’s situation was very ugly at the time, causing Henry a lot of grief. Serena couldn’t touch Henry, so she went after the women around him. During that time, whoever messed with Henry was unlucky. Everyone in the circle knew about it, and Henry lost a lot of face. Instantly, I felt my heart being grabbed by someone, carelessly tossed from a high building, shattering into pieces. At night, the tears that flowed to my lips were bitter. Probably realizing his words were too harsh, he softened his voice and asked me: “Abby, are you afraid of the dark?” The girl beside him let out a soft laugh and whined coquettishly. I hid the phone under my pillow. I didn’t say another word. For the first time, I truly realized that Alexander was a good childhood friend, a good strategist. But I made a fatal mistake. I thought our shallow affection could defy the family’s face and unspoken rules. That night, I wasn’t uncomfortable for long. The nurses soon noticed something was wrong with me, and after a frantic rescue, I barely kept my life. A few days later, Alexander messaged and called me, saying he drank too much that night and took out his frustration over Henry’s complaints on me. At that time, I looked down at the IV in my hand, leaned against the soft pillow, and watched the leaves slowly falling outside the window. “Alexander, I am Abby Sterling, the eldest daughter of the Sterling family. I know deeply that the bond between us isn’t just you and me. It’s billion-dollar collaborations, it’s a century of friendship.” I replied submissively. Alexander didn’t say a word. He took a deep breath: “Abby, you seem to have grown up.” I didn’t speak again.

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My mom once dumped the richest man in our city. Eight years later, I beat up his son. My teacher forced my mom to get on her knees and beg for forgiveness. The billionaire pushed open the classroom door and froze. “I used to treat you like a princess, terrified you’d melt if I didn’t hold you tight enough. And you’re on your f***ing knees?” “Sarah, whose pride are you trashing right now?” 1 I never had a dad. I didn’t even know any of my extended family. As long as I could remember, it was just my mom raising me. She worked the night shift at a convenience store and often came home very late. So, she asked our neighbor, Mrs. Higgins, to add an extra plate for me when she made dinner for her own granddaughter. It wasn’t a handout, of course. My mom paid Mrs. Higgins for my meals every month. But Mrs. Higgins would take that money and turn around to buy me milk and fresh fruit. She constantly sighed about how hard my mom worked and told me not to tell her about the extra treats. I’d nod, and she’d praise me for being such a good girl. Honestly, I just felt that if I was good, it would make things a little easier for my mom. At school, I was the most invisible kid in the class. I paid attention during lessons, but I never raised my hand or showed off. My classmates called me the “Little Mute” because they thought I didn’t like to talk. The truth was, I just liked listening to them talk. In third grade, the most popular topic of conversation was everyone’s families. Some kids would broadcast everything—from their dad’s hemorrhoids to their mom fighting off his mistress. There was a boy in my class named Connor Hayes. He was a new transfer student, and he constantly complained about his CEO dad. He said his dad had a temper like a rabid dog and a face as cold as a widower. He said his dad never had time for him; it was just drivers and nannies at home every day. He said his dad only cared about money. For his birthday, he just had his secretary drop off a black Amex card. … Long story short, he hated his dad. But I envied him for having one. I didn’t know why, but out of all the kids in class, I wanted to be close to Connor the most. Because I didn’t have a dad, and rumor had it, Connor didn’t have a mom. In a way, we were the same kind of different. One day, while we were lining up to go home, Connor was complaining about how terrible his dad’s cooking was. I couldn’t help but chime in: “My mom makes really good desserts.” If he just talked to me, I thought, I could bring him some of my mom’s desserts. But Connor turned his head and glared at me viciously. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I looked at him, confused. “You’re making fun of me for not having a mom, right?” Connor shoved me hard, his face twisted in anger. I fell hard onto the pavement. While I was still in shock, my homeroom teacher, Ms. Evans, yelled from behind: “Chloe! Are you blind? You’re ruining the line formation! Get up right now!” I had no choice but to slowly pick myself up and brush the dirt off my clothes. Ever since I spoke to Connor that day after school, I inexplicably became the thorn in his and his little posse’s side. Every time he walked past my desk, he’d pinch my arm through my shirt. If we crossed paths in the hallway, he’d purposely ram his shoulder into mine. Not to mention, he was always surrounded by a gang of followers. Every time I walked by, they would yell out of nowhere: “Chloe, the Little Mute, what a loser.” Then they’d make weird, mocking noises with their mouths. I gathered my courage and decided to tell the teacher. However, when I went to Ms. Evans’s office, she was sitting cross-legged, holding her phone. I didn’t know who she was talking to, but it was “Mr. Hayes” this and “Mr. Hayes” that, and her whole face was lit up with a smile. I stood at the door for ten minutes, and she didn’t even notice me. The bell rang. The next period was English. I had no choice but to go back to class. Our English teacher had assigned an essay that day. The prompt was: “My Father.” I didn’t know how to start, so I sat there staring at a blank page for the entire period. The sky outside was an ashy gray, looking like it was about to rain, making everyone feel gloomy. Connor, however, was ecstatic. He announced to the whole class that his dad was coming to pick him up today. When school let out, it started pouring. In a cruel twist of irony, out of the entire massive school campus, Connor and I were the only two kids left without anyone to pick us up. The security guard brought us into the guardhouse. Connor looked furious. He kept yelling into his smartwatch: “I don’t care! I don’t want to hear your excuses! You have to come get me!” Then he dropped his wrist and started stomping the floor violently, thump-thump-thump. I thought he looked like an angry, unreasonable little monkey. I don’t know how much time passed, but the Hayes family’s driver finally appeared outside the guardhouse. “I don’t want you. Where is my dad?!” The little tyrant threw a tantrum at the driver outside the window. Looking troubled, the driver made a phone call. Not long after, a tall man holding a massive black umbrella walked over at an unhurried pace. The sky was still dark, and the wind was howling outside— Although the umbrella obscured his face, you could tell from his straight, imposing posture that he possessed a calm confidence, unafraid of any storm. Connor jumped up, rushed out of the guardhouse, and threw himself toward the man. The man reached out a single hand and effortlessly caught Connor by the collar of his jacket, stopping him mid-air. It was a hand that looked powerful and safe—large, with pronounced knuckles. It looked exactly like a father’s hand should. The man set Connor down. Holding the umbrella with one hand, he tilted it so it mostly covered Connor. Then, without hesitation, he smacked the back of Connor’s head. It was a crisp, solid thwack, like slapping a ripe watermelon. I stared, a little dazed. Connor didn’t mind. Instead, he suddenly turned around and shot me a smug, gloating smile. “Loser.” He taunted me with a funny face. “Have fun waiting by yourself!” 2 I ended up just staying in the guardhouse. I practically finished all my homework before the torrential rain finally stopped. The security guard, Mr. Miller, even shared his dinner with me—a delicious basket of steamed buns. I thanked him and walked back to the apartment my mom and I rented. I did a quick sweep with the mop, read a chapter of a book, and my mom finally came home. The bedroom door pushed open, and my mom poked half her body in, smiling brightly: “Hey sweetie, why aren’t you asleep yet?” I instantly noticed she was hiding her other arm behind the door. “Mom! Did you hurt your left hand?” She scratched her head: “You’ve got sharp eyes, kiddo. 20/20 vision for sure.” I asked her what happened. “A box fell on it at work,” she sighed. “It’s fine now, but I can’t use my left hand for a couple of weeks.” “Does that mean you can stay home and rest for those couple of weeks?” I asked carefully. “What kind of generous capitalist do you think I work for? Taking two weeks off? Do I still want a job?” I lowered my eyes, feeling a bit upset. “Ta-da! Look what I got!” My mom suddenly raised her voice, quickly pulling out a container of roast duck and a can of beer from behind her back to change the subject. “My boss actually gave this to me.” “Were you planning on eating it all by yourself before you saw me?” I asked quietly. She scratched her cheek. “Am I that kind of person?” I had to remind her of the numerous “cold cases” where she had secretly eaten takeout, drank boba, and binge-watched TV shows in the living room while I was asleep… In the dim light, we polished off the roast duck. I suddenly remembered seeing Connor’s dad today, so I softly asked: “Mom, what kind of person was my dad?” I knew my mom didn’t like talking about my dad. But after a moment of silence, she actually told me: He had a bad temper. He spent all his time working. To solve problems, he only knew how to throw around black credit cards… “What did he look like? Did he have big hands?” “Pretty big. He was pretty tall too.” My mom burst out laughing. “Why are you asking?” I wanted to hear her say more, but my mom’s voice went flat: “Kiddo, knowing these things is useless. He’s dead.” I had to ask one last question with pleading eyes: “Did Dad love me back then?” She stroked my hair, her voice softening. “Go to sleep, sweetie.” I don’t know why, but her smiling face looked so sad. The next day, I got to school early and finished writing the English essay I hadn’t completed yesterday. When I turned the essay in, Ms. Evans actually took mine and read it aloud to the whole class as a model essay. “My Father” My father often has a stern face and always looks unhappy. My father is always very busy and has no time to take care of me, but I know he is always by my side. My father is the best father in the world. Whenever it rains, he drops all his work to come to school and pick me up. His hands are so big, just like his big black umbrella, capable of shielding me and my mother from the storms of the entire world… After school, Connor found me, his face filled with rage: “You thief! You clearly wrote about my dad.” He reached out to shove me. I quickly backed away, but he chased after me, pinning me against the wall at the back of the classroom, yelling fiercely: “Thief!” I suddenly felt a surge of anger. I used all my strength to shove him forward. I was actually taller and stronger than him. He fell hard onto the floor, his face immediately turning black as he started cursing at me. I had never heard so many vicious words in my life! The new and old grudges combined. Not only did I not let him go, but I straddled him, throwing a punch for every curse word he spat. By the time we came to our senses, Ms. Evans had rushed into the classroom. She let out a shriek, yanked me off Connor, and held him, comforting him for a long time. Connor put on a fake crying act, whimpering a few times, and cried out emotionally: “Ms. Evans, my dad entrusted me to you. I’ve always seen you as a mother. You’re all I have left, boo-hoo-hoo.” Ms. Evans turned her head and glared at me fiercely: “Chloe! Right now, immediately, tell your mother to come to the school!” 3 “Does your daughter have violent tendencies?” Ms. Evans’s voice was shrill. “Look at what she did to Connor!” Connor immediately let out a whimper, pretending to be in extreme pain. Ms. Evans turned to him, her voice turning gentle. “Connor, be a good boy. I called your dad; he’s on his way.” My mom had her left arm in a sling. She was still wearing the green vest from the convenience store, and a cheap baseball cap with the store’s logo. She looked like she had rushed over; her bangs were blown into a messy tangle. She glanced at me and said anxiously, “Chloe is usually very well-behaved. She wouldn’t hit someone for no reason.” Ms. Evans raised her voice. “Are you saying I’m framing your daughter?” “That’s not what I mean,” my mom said quickly. “I just want to hear the child explain what happened.” “Chloe,” Ms. Evans turned to me coldly. “Tell me yourself, what did you do wrong?” I stubbornly pressed my lips together. Ms. Evans seemed furious. “Fine, if you won’t say it, I will.” “When lining up to go home, you broke the rules.” “Your classmates don’t like you. You have absolutely no ability to integrate into the group.” “And now you’ve resorted to assaulting a classmate.” “Earlier, when I asked you, you wouldn’t say a word. You’ve even started being deceitful.” “I’m asking you, do you have any respect for me as your homeroom teacher?” My mom looked at me, her lips moving. “Ms. Evans, there must be some misunderstanding…” Ms. Evans let out a contemptuous laugh. “Since you insist on turning a blind eye to your daughter’s faults, I have nothing more to say.” She firmly placed her thermos on her desk. “I can’t teach her. You need to find another teacher. Go ask around yourself and see which homeroom teacher in this school is willing to take her, and transfer her out immediately.” My mom turned pale as soon as she heard that. Although she wasn’t a very conventional mother, she was extremely strict when it came to education. Usually, if I scored below an 80 on a test, she wouldn’t hesitate to give me a spanking. To her, education was more important than her own life. “That’s not true.” My mom was starting to panic. She pleaded, “Ms. Evans, please give Chloe one more chance. She’s young; she doesn’t know better.” Ms. Evans turned her head away, let out a cold hmph, and faced the wall. My mom continued to plead bitterly, saying almost everything she could think of. But no matter what my mom said, Ms. Evans just told her to find someone else to take me. But in a school, what homeroom teacher would willingly take a student that someone else rejected? “Please, have some mercy.” My mom raised her injured arm. “I will discipline Chloe properly when we get home. Please don’t give up on her.” Ms. Evans turned back, but still spoke critically, “How can I trust you?” My mom paused, as if making up her mind. “Ms. Evans, I’m usually very busy with work and don’t have time to pay attention to Chloe’s mental state. She’s always been alone, and no one taught her what she should or shouldn’t do.” I stared at my mom, stunned. It was the first time I had ever seen her speak so formally. But my mom gripped the armrest of a chair, slowly knelt onto the floor, and pleaded once more. “Ms. Evans, the person who made the mistake is actually me, her mother. I failed to raise her right; it’s not Chloe’s fault. Please, give her one more chance.” As she spoke, her shoulders, which were usually thin but straight, hunched forward deeply. I stared at her, paralyzed. This was my mom—the woman who was usually joking around, never taking anything seriously; the woman who was kneeling on the floor, humbling herself to beg the teacher not to give up on me; the woman who taught me to be an honest person and to work hard in my studies… A difficult life had never crushed her, but at this moment, she surrendered her dignity for me. I couldn’t hold on any longer. I immediately hugged my mom’s shoulders and knelt down beside her. “I’m sorry, it’s my fault. Mom, it’s not your fault.” I had never regretted anything so much in my life. Tears poured from my eyes, and I felt like my heart was breaking into pieces. Ms. Evans seemed startled too, and she lowered her voice. “That’s not what I meant…” “I’m sorry, Ms. Evans.” I started crying too. “I promise I’ll never hit anyone again.” Amidst the commotion, Connor suddenly yelled excitedly, “Dad, you’re finally here.” Ms. Evans was startled. She quickly pushed us aside, bent over, and hurriedly applied lipstick using a small mirror on her desk. The first thing I heard was a cold voice: “Connor, tell me yourself, what trouble have you caused this time?” The office door was pushed open, and footsteps approached from a distance. The man’s voice seemed to carry a mix of exhaustion and annoyance: “Confess right now, before I have to hit you.” I felt my mom’s body stiffen. She turned her head for a glance, then immediately lowered it, as if she had seen something unbelievable. For a moment, I felt like she wanted to hide under the desk. “Mr. Hayes.” Ms. Evans stood up with a radiant smile. “You misunderstood. Connor was the one being bullied today. Please don’t scold him.” The man stopped casually behind her. “Who bullied him?” “Her.” Ms. Evans pointed at me, sighing. “There’s something wrong with this girl’s head.” I didn’t dare argue back. I could only turn around, lay prostrate on the floor, and say, “I’m sorry.” The man crouched down. He looked at the bruises on Connor’s face, his tone completely flat. “You got beat up? Does it hurt?” Connor quickly let out a pitiful “Mhm.” The man frowned, yet said mercilessly, “Useless.” After criticizing Connor, his sharp eyes swept toward me. “A little girl, getting into fights at such a young age. Didn’t your parents teach you any manners?” I was glared at by his dark, menacing eyes, almost scared to tears again, and could only bite my lip tightly. “She really lacks proper upbringing at home,” Ms. Evans quickly interjected. “I’ve already lectured her, and her mother even knelt down to apologize. Sigh… Mr. Hayes, how do you think we should handle this?” “How to handle it?” The man slowly repeated the question, his voice dripping with unmistakable coldness. Hearing this, I immediately sat up, scrambled forward blindly, and grabbed the hem of his suit jacket. “Sir, I didn’t mean to. I swear, I’ll never bother him again.” Mr. Hayes looked down at me, suddenly frowning. With one hand, he pinched my chin, his gaze revealing a mix of confusion and bewilderment. “Why do you… look so much like…” He didn’t finish his sentence. After a long silence, he just shook his head. “Ms. Evans, let it go.” Connor, however, shrieked, “How can we just let it go?” “Then what do you want?” Mr. Hayes’s tone was impatient. “I want Chloe to apologize to me in front of the whole class tomorrow.” Connor rattled on. “She also mocked me for not having a mom last time.” Mr. Hayes’s face turned dark as a storm cloud, while my mom’s face went completely white. She sneakily glanced at Connor, her eyes filled with pain and conflict. She seemed to want to say something but bit her lip, burying her head even lower, her body trembling slightly. I was a bit worried and quickly squeezed my mom’s hand tightly. “Enough, you little brat.” Mr. Hayes raised his hand and grabbed Connor by the collar. “I think you really are asking for a beating.” “Getting beat up by a little girl is embarrassing enough, and you want the whole class to laugh at you?” Ms. Evans seemed completely surprised that the matter would be dropped so easily. She pursed her lips and said, “Since Mr. Hayes isn’t pursuing it, Chloe’s mom, you should apologize to Mr. Hayes.” My mom didn’t say a word, trembling even more violently. Ms. Evans was getting impatient. “Chloe’s mom? Does muteness run in your family?” Mr. Hayes seemed to finally notice the woman still kneeling on the floor. He turned his head casually, and with just one glance, he froze. He released his grip on Connor’s collar and stood up instantly. “I’m sorry.” My mom finally spoke softly, her head still buried low. The man’s lips parted, as if it took all his strength to call out a name: “Sarah… is that you?” I had no idea how he knew my mom’s name. “You’ve mistaken me for someone else.” My mom immediately turned her face away, but her left hand, trapped in the cast, agonizingly clenched into a fist, as if enduring something terrible. “It’s you.” Mr. Hayes stared fixedly at my mom. The expression on his face was indiscernible—whether he was crying or laughing, hateful or joyous, his entire face twisted terribly. “Sarah—” He seemed to chew the name up, his eyes locked onto my mom. “When did you get back?” My mom turned her head away, refusing to meet his gaze. Even Ms. Evans noticed something was wrong. Her face changed instantly. “Does Mr. Hayes know her?” “More than know her.” He seemed utterly furious, unable to hold back any longer. He grabbed my mom with one hand and pulled her up from the floor. “Eight years since we last saw each other, and this is how you look? Poor and pathetic?” “Sarah, I treated you like a princess back then. I was terrified you’d melt if I didn’t hold you tight enough, and today you’re kneeling on the fucking floor?” “Whose pride are you trashing right now?” “Get up!” After pulling my mom up, she immediately grabbed my hand, looking like she wanted to drag me away as fast as possible. But Mr. Hayes maintained a tight grip on my mom’s thin wrist. Under everyone’s gaze, this tall, imposing man’s eyes actually grew red-rimmed. “Sarah, after all these years, won’t you even look at me?” He seemed to realize something and suddenly looked at me. “How old are you?” I nervously darted my eyes between the two of them. I was actually eight years old. I didn’t know why my mom lied about my age. But I figured she must have had her reasons. Mr. Hayes, hearing her answer, looked devastated. “You… you got married?” 4 Perhaps sensing the tension, Connor started groaning and clutching his stomach, complaining that he felt sick. Ms. Evans quickly reminded Mr. Hayes to take his son to the hospital for a check-up. My mom gave Connor a deeply concerned look, bit her lip, and followed them to the hospital. The doctor said Connor was fine. My mom wanted to pay the medical bill, but Mr. Hayes wouldn’t let her. He said pointedly, “Since you haven’t shown any concern for eight years… there’s no need to fake it now.” After the check-up, Connor demanded his dad buy him roasted chicken wings. My mom stood by for a long time, looking like she wanted to say something, her eyes entirely glued to Connor. And Mr. Hayes’s eyes were entirely glued to my mom. I rubbed my stomach and told my mom I was hungry. As if suddenly remembering, she tightly grabbed my hand and got ready to leave, but Mr. Hayes wouldn’t let us. I don’t know what he said, but my mom reluctantly agreed to have dinner together. She just looked like a wilted flower. I sat across from Connor, and they sat across from each other. This was my first time at a fried chicken place. I buried my head in my bowl and kept eating. “Has this child never had a full meal?” Mr. Hayes’s tone sounded inexplicably sour. “Does her dad not want to feed her?” My mom let out a cold laugh but didn’t say anything. I lifted my head from my bowl, looking gloomy. “My dad is dead.” Mr. Hayes’s dull eyes lit up again. I didn’t know what he was plotting. Halfway through the meal, they started arguing again about some topic I couldn’t catch. Mainly, it was Mr. Hayes speaking with a sharp, passive-aggressive edge. It was uncomfortable to listen to. My mom ignored him and told me to finish eating quickly. Halfway through, Connor made a fuss about needing to go to the restroom to wash his hands. My mom patted his head and took him to the restroom. I found it a bit strange. My mom actually really disliked other people’s kids. Just now at the hospital, and while eating, my mom had been proactively taking care of him. She almost seemed to have forgotten about me… Mr. Hayes glanced up at me and said, “That’s your second bucket. Can you really still eat?” I sheepishly put down my chicken wing. Mr. Hayes suddenly pulled out a napkin and wiped my hands for me. I secretly watched him. I suddenly noticed that this Mr. Hayes had exceptionally long eyelashes. When he looked down and didn’t speak, he was as handsome as a movie star. In a flash, he seemed to transform from an overbearing CEO into a disappointed, wounded middle-aged man. “Was your dad… good to your mom before?” he asked me in a low, bitter voice. I had never met my dad, so I didn’t know how to answer. At that moment, my mom returned, standing at the restaurant exit and calling my name. I quickly stood up. “You should ask my mom… but you need to use a nicer tone.” “Chloe.” Mr. Hayes suddenly grabbed me. I looked at him in surprise. I had no idea how he knew my name. He slipped a piece of paper into my hand. Mr. Hayes whispered to me, “This is my contact info. If you ever run into a situation where someone bullies your mom like today, call the number on here. Uncle will come, no matter how busy he is.” He hesitated for a moment, looking at me, and added reluctantly, “If someone bullies you, you can call too.” My mom firmly declined Mr. Hayes’s offer to give us a ride. She held my little hand as we walked home. I decided to ask her directly, “Mom, do you like my classmate?” “Yes,” she answered. I felt a bit sad, so I decided to badmouth him a little. “Mom, don’t let his pathetic act fool you. He’s actually just a really spoiled, angry little monkey.” My mom smiled. “Why did Chloe beat him up today, and say he doesn’t have a mom?” I quickly recounted the whole story from start to finish. My mom fell silent for a moment before saying, “How about this… why don’t we invite him over for fried chicken wings this weekend, Chloe? I’ll make some really good ones, and we can explain things to him face-to-face?” I was reluctant, but I nodded anyway. We walked a bit further, and my mom asked hesitantly, “What… what did Mr. Hayes say to you?” I hesitated a bit, but I told my mom and then asked, “Do you hate Mr. Hayes, Mom?” My mom said “Mhm.” “Then can I keep his business card?” I looked up at her. She hesitated. “Keep it… but if you need something, come to me. You are not allowed to go to him.” A question suddenly popped into my head: “Mom… did you and Mr. Hayes have some kind of relationship before?” Under the moonlight, my mom’s expression seemed dark. After a long pause, she finally spoke: “We used to be… in love. Now… he probably wants to get revenge on me.” Before going to bed, I went to close the living room window. But under the window, I saw a parked Rolls Royce. I had seen Mr. Hayes driving it today, and even the license plate was the same. Was Mr. Hayes downstairs? My heart started pounding. My mom said he was an enemy, so was he keeping an eye on us? I pulled out the business card he gave me earlier that day. It read: Arthur Hayes. It turned out his name was Arthur Hayes. I felt like I had seen that name before. Where had I seen it? Oh… at my mom’s place. On the nightstand in her bedroom, there was a framed poem— “The light skiff has passed ten thousand mountains.” (Note: The Chinese character for “ten thousand mountains” is Wan Guo Shan, which was the original Chinese name. The English name Arthur Hayes is used here, but the poem reference loses its direct connection. A localized alternative could be a framed quote or a special memento related to the name Arthur, like a King Arthur legend quote, but to keep the poem vibe, we’ll adapt.) “The once and future king.” I tilted my head in confusion, then placed the business card on the coffee table. I had a feeling… he didn’t seem like someone who came to get revenge on my mom.

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I picked up a beautiful man. I lived frugally, just to buy him a five-figure watch because he said he liked it. But one day, I saw him casually toss the watch into a lake while talking nonchalantly on the phone: “It was just for fun. I didn’t expect her to be so gullible. “Let’s make another bet. A ten-thousand-dollar leather bag. Let’s see if she’ll buy it.” Later, I decided I didn’t want him anymore. But everyone said the heir to the Sterling family had gone mad, searching the entire lake just to find a broken watch. 1 It was very late by the time I finished my part-time job and got home. As soon as I opened the door, I was pulled into a warm embrace. “You’re back.” Julian buried his face in my neck, nuzzling me: “I missed you so much.” I blushed: “The coffee shop was really busy today… I accidentally worked late. Have you eaten?” He blinked his eyes: “No, I was waiting for you.” I had picked Julian up off the street. The day I found him, it was pouring rain. He was crouching outside the coffee shop, soaking wet, like an abandoned puppy. “Audrey, look at that guy. He’s been sitting there for days.” My coworker pointed at him: “He looks so pitiful. Should we let him come inside and sit?” But the coffee shop was about to close. I thought for a moment, poured a steaming cup of coffee, pushed the door open, went outside, and crouched in front of him. “Hello.” That was the first thing I said to him. “It’s cold out. Have a cup of coffee.” Julian looked up, and I realized he was incredibly good-looking. Too good-looking to look like someone who would be homeless on the streets. “Thank you.” But he blinked, his expression innocent: “I seem… to have forgotten who I am. Can you take me home?” At that time, I was deceived by his appearance. I actually took him home. 2 The sound of pots and pans clinking came from the kitchen. While I was busy, I asked: “Julian, what do you want to eat?” He stood outside the kitchen door: “Whatever you make is fine.” Julian—that was the name I found in his wallet. Written on a slip of paper. But the entire wallet contained nothing but that single slip of paper. I considered taking him to the police station. But he was incredibly resistant to the idea. “Don’t take me there,” Julian hugged me tightly, as if trying to merge into me, his voice trembling slightly. “Audrey, please, let me stay with you.” He was like a newborn child, clutching onto a hard-won piece of kindness, begging humbly. My heart suddenly softened. I took him in, and it’s been several months. Even the neighbors knew I had a very handsome boyfriend. It’s just that he rarely went out, and no one knew what he did for a living. I didn’t know either. Every time I brought up helping him find his family, Julian would react strongly, hugging me and acting cute. He always said: “Audrey, don’t abandon me.” 3 I bought Julian a phone so he could easily contact me. When I was at work, he loved to spam me with messages. The content was always the same, things that made me blush and my heart race: [Audrey, your bed is so soft. Can I sleep on it next time?] [Audrey, next time you wake up to go to work, can you wake me up? I want a good morning kiss.] [Audrey, please don’t work overtime tonight. Let’s go shopping.] I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but I couldn’t help smiling when I replied. A coworker leaned over slyly: “Ooh, the iron tree is blossoming! Our Audrey finally has a boyfriend?” Of course, I didn’t dare say it was Julian. I just played along: “Mhm… we haven’t been dating for long.” She gave a “say no more” look and said: “Honeymoon phase, honeymoon phase. You have to let us meet him someday.” I nodded while typing a reply to Julian: “Okay. “Come find me.” 4 I walked arm-in-arm with Julian as we went shopping. He seemed very interested in the mall, constantly asking about this and that. Until we reached the elevator, and he wanted to go upstairs. I was a bit hesitant: “Upstairs… there’s nothing really to shop for.” Julian blinked: “Why?” Upstairs was where the luxury goods were sold. Working two jobs just to make ends meet, I naturally didn’t dare go up there. I remembered helping a classmate pick something up from a boutique once, and the sales associate looked at me with a complex expression: “Name. Double-check it. Don’t get it wrong.” But Julian really wanted to go. He pulled my hand: “Let’s just go look. Audrey, please?” I ultimately agreed. Once upstairs, I felt a difference. Julian seemed completely natural. Coupled with his outstanding looks, even his simple, worn-out clothes looked high-end on him. A sales associate’s eyes lit up: “Mr. Sterling, you…” “What Mr. Sterling?” Julian frowned and tightened his grip on my hand: “Audrey, do you like those bags?” Actually, hearing that “Mr. Sterling,” my heart skipped a beat. But Julian’s actions brought me back to my senses slightly: “I… not really.” That sales associate was the exact same one who had mocked me before. But right now, she was extremely attentive, constantly glancing at Julian while enthusiastically pitching to me: “Miss, are you sure you don’t want to take a look? We have a lot of new arrivals in our store. Other places haven’t even gotten them yet.” I turned her down and pulled Julian downstairs. He looked at me, confused: “What’s wrong, Audrey? Did something happen?” I looked at his handsome face, momentarily losing myself. “Julian, before… did you come here often?” 5 Actually, it wasn’t that I hadn’t thought about what would happen if Julian remembered his past. But I had never thought about what would happen if he were very wealthy—worlds apart from me—and where we would go from there. “I haven’t,” Julian ignored the stares of passersby, leaning down to hug me. “Audrey, do you not like it there? Then we’ll go somewhere else. “Audrey, look at me. Let’s go.” Only then did I hold his hand: “Okay.” As I led him out of the mall, I was still thinking that if Julian really was very wealthy, I wasn’t after his money anyway. I had a clear conscience; I was just dating him. But… what if he still wanted to be with me then? I was lost in thought. I completely failed to notice that on the face of Julian beside me, not a trace of that obedient puppy look could be found. Replaced by a coldness I had never seen before. 6 I was searching for a watch on my phone. Actually, when we were upstairs, Julian and I had looked at a watch boutique. He held a watch that looked expensive at a glance and gestured towards me: “Audrey, look, does this look good?” I checked the price—five figures, enough to cover several months of rent. Even the sales associate was persuading: “Yes, sir has great taste. This is a popular model in our store, and we only have the last one left.” Julian’s eyes were sparkling, and he looked like he really wanted it. I had no choice but to say: “Then let’s come back and buy it another day.” Then, I pulled him away. But his gaze kept lingering behind. That was when I decided I would buy it for him. “What is Audrey looking at?” Julian pounced over again, and I quickly locked my phone screen: “Nothing.” He humph’d: “Audrey is lying.” Then he picked me up and carried me into my bedroom: “Your punishment is sleeping with me tonight.” It started raining outside. I was kissed dizzy by Julian. The pitter-patter of the rain covered the sounds of our kisses. Before he turned off the light, he asked hoarsely in my ear: “…Can I?” I nodded. 7 When the watch arrived, I was in the kitchen cooking. I asked Julian to answer the door. “Audrey! Did you buy this?” I saw a fleeting flash of surprise in his eyes, followed by overwhelming joy. He picked me up: “Audrey, you’re so good to me.” The kitchen was steamy. I told him to get out, but he refused. He turned off the stove, set me on the counter, and leaned down to kiss me. I held his strong waist, kissed until I was in a daze. At that time, it was my first time loving someone like this. Loving him so much I forgot that, besides his name, I knew absolutely nothing about Julian. 8 Julian couldn’t put that watch down. Consequently, he became even more clingy towards me. An hour before my shift ended, I received a call from him: “Getting off work soon, right? I’ll come pick you up, let’s go out and play for a bit.” I coaxed him helplessly: “Julian, I still have an hour left on my shift.” He humph’d: “Don’t care. We haven’t had a date in so long. I’ll wait for you by the lake.” After I hung up, my coworker leaned over slyly again: “Got it, another date. Looks like I have to hurry up today.” “Audrey, you leave early. I’ll cover your shift!” Unable to resist their enthusiasm, I really did take off my apron. Then I touched up my makeup and left the coffee shop, feeling shy and expectant. 9 There were a lot of people by the lake. But I spotted that standout figure at a glance. Julian was wearing the new jacket I bought him, standing by the lake with his back to me, talking on the phone. I was a bit confused. Besides me, who else did he know? So I quietly walked over, wanting to give him a surprise. “Got it, I’ll play a little longer and then head back. “Tsk, do you think I’d actually like a girl who works at a coffee shop? Stop joking, she’s just gullible. “It’s just a watch worth a few tens of thousands. Let’s make another bet. A ten-thousand-dollar leather bag. Let’s see if she’ll buy it. Place your bets, I bet I win.” In that instant, my mind went completely blank. Julian’s voice lacked any of his usual naive sweetness. He was cold and disdainful. The next second, I saw him take off the watch I bought him from his wrist. Then, he casually tossed it into the shimmering lake, without a hint of hesitation in his movements. “The watch is lost. Wearing it really brings down my value.” Julian said, suddenly turning his head. A few steps away, he looked astonished, making eye contact with me. I was completely unaware that I was crying. The person on the other end of Julian’s call was still asking: “Hello? Julian, why aren’t you saying anything? Ten thousand is too low, right? That naive girlfriend of yours is so love-struck, she wouldn’t bet something that big…” But he had already taken a step towards me: “Audrey…” 10 I don’t remember how I left. I only remember Julian’s expression instantly becoming stunned, shocked, and at a loss. “Audrey, no, listen to me, I…” “Julian,” but I only called his name, cutting him off. “I heard everything.” Word for word. The lover who was whispering sweet nothings the day before had just stated this was only a game the next day. He stood coldly on the sidelines, acting superior, watching me, the participant, love him so much I lost my mind. “Audrey.” “Don’t come near me.” I abruptly stepped back twice, as if Julian were a terrifying monster. I looked up at this familiar yet strange man. Those thin lips were saying yesterday: “Sister, don’t abandon me.” Today, they were confidently talking on the phone with someone else, saying: “I bet I win.” So I smiled at him: “Julian, you’re right. “You won the bet.” 11 Julian called me constantly the whole way. I didn’t answer a single one and blocked his number. I knew he was following right behind me. He was tall with long legs; no matter how I ran, he could easily catch up. Even in love, he was just as fearless and arrogant. Halfway there, it started to rain. “Audrey!” He called my name: “It’s raining. Let’s go home. Can we go home and talk about it?” I didn’t look back. He said again: “Audrey, please listen to my explanation, okay?” I still didn’t look back. Until the rain started pouring heavily, pattering on the ground. I clutched my wet clothes and walked to the bottom of my apartment building without ever looking back. Julian followed me the whole way like that. I made eye contact with him through the mirror on the front door. He had gotten rained on too. His black hair drooped, looking obedient and soft. His eyes were wet, tinged with red. His clothes were soaked and clung to his body, revealing his physique. Very similar to the day we first met, yet entirely different. I suddenly stopped. In the mirror, Julian stopped too. He looked slightly panicked because I turned my head. “The day I picked you up, it was raining this heavily too, right?” I smiled, and he seemed to guess what I was going to say: “Audrey, I admit to this, but I…” “That’s enough.” I didn’t want to hear it. Something that was wrong from the start, no matter how smoothly it went, was still wrong. “Julian, I wish I had never met you. I regret picking you up and bringing you home. Just leave. Go back to where you belong.”

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My husband, Liam, recently took in a young woman who wasn’t very well-behaved. He spoiled her so much she forgot her place and actually came causing trouble right in front of me. The girl’s eyes were bright, and she stubbornly refused to call me “Mrs. Sterling”: “Miss Reed, in love, the one who isn’t loved is the real third wheel.” I smiled, reached out a slender finger, and forcefully yanked the pearl earring from her ear. Drops of blood instantly bloomed on her earlobe. Behind us, Liam appeared, his jaw tight. Chloe just stood there with red eyes: “Mr. Sterling, please don’t be angry. Miss Reed probably didn’t mean it.” Liam just took my hand, blowing on it gently: “Abby, does your hand hurt?” Chloe stared at him in disbelief as a large tear rolled down her cheek. And I just offered a faint smile. 1 Chloe was taken away by Liam’s secretary. She seemed to have a thousand things to say, probably not understanding how the man who had been somewhat gentle with her yesterday could turn like this today. Liam’s affection for me wasn’t entirely fake. He noticed a faint, barely visible mark on my finger and kissed it repeatedly. “Abby, a woman like that isn’t worth dirtying your own hands,” he said, a hint of disapproval in his dark eyes. I looked at Liam, my expression normal. I wasn’t surprised by his actions. We were childhood sweethearts, growing up together. By nature, he wasn’t a particularly docile person, yet he was always tolerant and considerate of me. In prominent, old-money families like ours, rotting marriages are everywhere. But he was the one I had actively chosen. Even when we got married, my best friend, Serena, was endlessly envious. After all, when people reach a certain status, they view basic moral constraints with cold indifference. Liam was genuine toward me. Serena said that in elite families, fidelity is often viewed as a weakness. When wealth expands to a certain level, expecting a man to remain forever faithful is truly rare. For many arranged marriages between powerful families, maintaining a facade of peace is already an achievement. But Serena had seen how Liam served me food, seen how he unknowingly smiled just at the mention of me. He truly cared for me. But his care wasn’t one hundred percent. In his position, not having beautiful women swarming around him would be abnormal. The few “understanding companions” Liam occasionally kept were nothing in Serena’s eyes. It was just too common. It seems that when corruption becomes the norm, innocence becomes the anomaly. 2 Dinner was cooked by Liam. For a young, successful man like him to be willing to cook was truly rare. Even my usually picky mother was full of praise. They all seemed to envy me for having the vast majority of Liam’s love and his complete tolerance. I only had to frown, and Liam could make whatever I disliked disappear forever. He carefully cut my steak for me, and I lowered my eyes, taking small, slow bites. His phone kept lighting up. I instinctively reached for it, and he, thinking I wanted the wine from his glass, thoughtfully handed it to me. When he saw I was reaching for his phone, he just smiled, picked up a napkin to wipe his hands, and then handed the phone to me. “Wife, it’s rare for you to check up on me.” The smile in his eyes was genuine. Liam never really hid his “understanding companions” from me. It was probably because the men around him behaved far worse than he did. He gave his wife total respect, consideration, and always put me first. Moreover, even my own parents each had their own separate lives outside. I knew for a fact they had several illegitimate children. My mother didn’t have a son, so she chose a relatively decent illegitimate son to inherit the family business. He respected my mother and was quite protective of me, his sister. In old-money families, fidelity is a joke. No matter how gentle the surface appears, the bones are rotten. I unlocked the phone. I couldn’t find Chloe anymore. I understood; after offending me, Liam wouldn’t let her off easily. Scrolling further down, I saw Mia. She had been by Liam’s side for a while now. I had heard of her—a submissive, obedient type. When she saw me, she acted like a frightened quail. She kept her head as low as possible. Liam was very satisfied with her tactfulness, so she was getting good resources now. A few days ago, I even saw her at a jewelry exhibition. I attended as Mrs. Sterling. Liam sat to my right, and Mia, wearing a diamond necklace, sat opposite us, essentially displaying that necklace to me. I glanced at it a couple of times, and Liam bought it. Mia thanked me softly. She was very tactful, didn’t stay long, and certainly didn’t flaunt her status in my face. That night, Liam even sensed my displeasure and whispered in my ear, “Don’t like her? I’ll swap her for someone else right away.” The affection in his eyes was real. Whatever I disliked, he could discard. I smiled, my eyes curving. “Liam, aren’t you being a bit too sensitive?” Ever since we were little, I called him by his full name. When we were young, I would sit behind him on his bike, the wind blowing his shirt like a sail, and I would press my cheek against his back. It smelled like sunshine. It was the fluttering of a young heart. It was the budding of love. Liam patted my hand. The lighting was dim, but his tone was sweet: “Abby, I often think about the path we’ve walked together.” I didn’t say a word, just stared silently into the distance. 3 That night, Liam didn’t sleep beside me. He said he had business at the company. I properly straightened his clothes and watched him leave. Not long after, Serena called: “Hey, I think I saw your Liam. He’s with my bastard husband. I heard they ordered quite a few escorts, but don’t worry, your Liam doesn’t play that wild; it’s usually just one-on-one.” In the dark, I turned on the lamp: “And how many male models did you order?” Serena burst out laughing: “I used to invite you out, but you’re an outlier. You hate this stuff and don’t understand the fun of it. Abby, you need to broaden your horizons. It’s better when husbands and wives play together. If one stays strictly faithful, it just leads to frustration.” I remained silent. Her voice continued: “Abby, I know what you want. But you have to realize, when you reach a certain level, women swarm these men, and they’re surrounded by flattery and sycophants. It’s too hard to stay clean.” “I haven’t stayed clean,” I said quietly. Serena let out a sound of surprise, sounding very interested: “You’re keeping someone too? Who is it? Tell me.” I was just about to speak when I heard the sound of the front door unlocking. I smiled and hung up the phone abruptly. 4 I stood at the landing of the stairs, looking toward the door. Elias, dressed in simple, clean clothes, familiarly turned on the light, took off his shoes, and walked inside. The young man had gentle features. Seeing me, he offered a shy smile and made a gesture with his hands. I met Elias on a rainy day, right after I found out Liam was seeing someone else. I was sitting on the bench at a bus stop, the rain mixing with my tears, dripping down continuously. When you love someone, you use all your strength, leading to possessiveness. Suddenly hearing about his infidelity, no matter how good your temper usually is, jealousy spreads through your entire body. But I had seen too much of this. My friends, relatives, and parents had all set very bad examples for me. When they talked about these things, they didn’t even take it to heart. For a long time, I felt like I was the freak. Even Serena, who understood me best, looked at my depressed state with sheer bewilderment: “Abby, the Sterling family is valued at over thirty billion, and Liam is the standout among them. With a status like that, it’s unrealistic for him not to have a few women hovering around.” Everyone told me to relax, that Liam was just lacking in fidelity, and that it was a harmless flaw. But I suppressed my pain, not daring to show it, because I had seen how pathetic my mother looked. Vases shattered all over the floor; the torment made my usually gentle mother somewhat unhinged. Later, she frequently sought comfort outside too. At first, it was out of revenge, but later, it became an addiction. With a look of lust in her eyes, she told me that when you can’t fight it, you just have to go with the flow. Elias, holding an umbrella, appeared in front of me. The young man was very tall, his knuckles smooth like jade. When he smiled, dimples appeared on his cheeks. I looked up and told him to get lost. But he seemed not to hear me. He just tried to hand the umbrella to me. I poured all my unvented anger into the most vicious words directed at this stranger, but Elias only looked at me with a calm face. His eyes were as vast and accepting as the ocean. After a long while, he looked down at his phone and typed a sentence: [I’m sorry, I sent my hearing aids in for repair today. I can’t hear what you’re saying.] He smiled, his eyes curving like crescent moons. The words got stuck in my throat, unable to go up or down. I felt ashamed. I had actually vented my anger on such a gentle boy. We met again in a university lecture hall. I was invited as a successful alumna to speak about the ups and downs of life. During the ribbon-cutting ceremony, I saw him. As an outstanding student, he took a photo with me. Surprisingly, when I received that photo from my assistant, the boy’s features were gentle, radiant like stars and the moon. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I had my assistant send him a pair of high-end hearing aids. 5 While I was lost in thought, Elias, wearing a backpack, tapped on my car window. My assistant looked displeased, but I told her to shut up. The young man smiled and handed the expensive hearing aids back to me: “Hello, this belongs to you.” He looked at me calmly, and in that moment, I suddenly realized he had already forgotten that I was the pathetic woman in the heavy rain that day. After that, I frequently appeared near Elias. At first, I didn’t plan to do anything. It was probably just because people this pure rarely appeared around me. Maybe when money reaches a certain amount, life becomes truly boring, and you want to find some amusement. During that time, Liam found his second “understanding companion”—a girl who dared to love and hate, bright and sunny. He was probably just enjoying the novelty of it and was so caught up in his pleasure that I rarely saw him. He even slipped up in front of me several times. I suppressed my anger, eating and watching TV in silence. Liam would pat my hair: “But Abby, the path we’ve walked together is ultimately different.” Of course, I understood the meaning of those words, and I knew he meant it sincerely. After all, my relationship with him was indeed different. I never doubted his sincerity toward me. We were from equally matched families, both proud. In a secluded grassy field, I had spontaneously kicked off my heels and danced under the moonlight. He good-naturedly held my shoes, his eyes filled with nothing but my image. At our grand wedding, he said he would love me forever, but he didn’t say he would only love me forever. 6 Elias was reserved and strictly followed the rules. Before I even realized it, I suddenly noticed he had developed feelings for me. Because every time I spoke to him, the tips of his ears would turn bright red. Sometimes I couldn’t help but laugh and asked if he wanted to listen to me play the piano. At that time, the cherry blossoms were in full bloom. On the tree-lined campus path, students walked in twos and threes. I walked a long way with him. The hill behind the school was next to the train tracks, and cargo trains always passed by. That day, under the setting sun, the light flowed across his cheeks. Behind us was the deafening roar of the train. Elias touched my hand, seemingly afraid I would be startled by the noise. He reached out and covered my ears. His fingertips were warm. Right at that moment, the boy opened his lips and said a sentence. I asked him what he said, but he didn’t make a sound. Later, sitting in the car as it drove toward the residential enclave, I rested my hand against my forehead and suddenly smiled. Actually, after knowing Elias for a while, I had learned sign language and lip-reading. If I wasn’t mistaken, what Elias said then was, “I like you.” The boy’s love was earnest, but I felt despicable. He didn’t even know I was already married. Someone like him, bright and clean as the moon, could never understand the unspoken games played within elite families. 7 For a long time, Elias knew I suffered from insomnia at night, so he would take a cab to my house to read me stories. I didn’t cross any physical boundaries with him. Sometimes I even felt a bit self-destructive. I didn’t erase Liam’s presence from the house, but interestingly enough, Liam’s footprint in this house wasn’t that significant anyway. He was probably having too much fun outside, and later, while I maintained a calm facade, I had already distanced myself emotionally. Just like today, Elias read me a fairy tale as usual. I was raised by nannies when I was little. My parents’ love was there, but it didn’t feel deep. The classmates at my international school started competing with each other at age eight. My overly premature entry into adult life meant I wasn’t really exposed to fairy tales. I blinked and asked Elias: “So, the huntsman wanted to kill Snow White, but in the end, he let her go. Would Snow White forgive the huntsman?” He was used to answering my questions every day, so he wasn’t surprised. Without a moment’s hesitation, he answered directly: “She would.” “Why?” I asked him back. “If I were Snow White, I would never forgive. The person who wanted to kill me should burn in hell forever, never seeing the light of day.” “But why shouldn’t someone who realizes their mistake and turns back be forgiven?” he said from half a meter away. I don’t know what I was thinking in that moment. Since birth, I had never really cared about anything involving money. People around me flattered me, sought my favor; I had my own circle. Some people behaved recklessly, wildly, and even played some very intense games. Although I didn’t participate, I had seen so much of it that for a long time, I was used to it. I suddenly stood up, tilted my head, and kissed Elias on the cheek. His snow-white skin instantly turned beet red. His eyes shone with unshed tears as he blinked his large eyes: “Abby… Abby…” My chest filled with a warm sensation: “Elias, do you like me?” Even the boy’s neck turned bright red.

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I was Ashton’s fiancée, and his childhood sweetheart. That day, I saw him kissing his so-called “bro”—who happened to be another girl. “She is so annoying. Always acting fragile and making a big deal out of nothing,” he complained, holding her close. His “bro” giggled. “She acts like that because you spoil her. I told you to set some boundaries so she wouldn’t dare act out, but you didn’t listen. Whose fault is that?” Oh, so that’s how it was. Actually, I didn’t need him either. Later, just as he wished, I left. But then he acted like a completely different person, claiming he wouldn’t marry anyone but me. 1 It was late when Ashton texted me, asking me to bring some liquor from our apartment to the club. I had caught a nasty bug yesterday—fever, dizzy spells—and had been in bed all day. He knew this perfectly well. “I’m not feeling well. Can’t you just order something there?” I texted back. He called me. When I answered, the first thing I heard was a chorus of cheering in the background. “Quiet down, everyone! Let’s see how our guy puts his foot down!” “Hahaha.” “You sure you want to do this, Ash? Your girl is pretty delicate.” Amidst the raucous laughter, he asked: “Did you eat dinner?” I paused. “Yes.” “The guys are all waiting. Why is it so hard to ask you to drop something off?” his voice dropped, sounding stern. “You have the energy to eat, but no energy to come over?” “…” “I took cold medicine. I’m really dizzy right now,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Ash, whatever, let it go! If you lose the bet, just pay up!” a sharp female voice cut in. I knew that voice very well. It was Ashton’s “bro,” Chloe. She giggled. “Looks like you’re losing money today, Ash. The little wifey isn’t obeying!” The cheering erupted again. A sudden wave of nausea hit my stomach. “Sienna.” Ashton’s voice carried that familiar tone of impatience. I closed my eyes. “Fine. I’m on my way.” 2 I caught an Uber and arrived at the club. Pushing open the door to their private VIP room, the first thing I saw was Ashton standing in the center, amidst a chorus of cheers, kissing Chloe passionately. Seeing me, the rowdy room instantly went dead silent. Sensing the shift, Chloe glanced over, let out a shriek, and shoved Ashton away. As if she had just seen a monster. Ashton stumbled back a few steps, frowning as he looked my way. He looked heavily intoxicated. Meeting my gaze, Chloe seemingly unconsciously wiped her glossy lips, looking flustered. “Sienna, don’t misunderstand… we were just playing a game and lost. It was a dare…” My eyes swept over her revealing crop top and white mini skirt. Ashton and his other friends had praised her more than once. Pure but seductive. “Oh.” I walked over, suppressing a pounding headache, and placed the expensive bottles on the glass table. “The drinks are here. I’m leaving.” “Oh my gosh, Sienna, please don’t be mad!” Chloe suddenly grabbed my arm, rubbing her face against my sleeve. I turned and frowned at her. “Everyone here can vouch for us. We’re just bros messing around. If you get mad over a misunderstanding, we’ll feel terrible…” Heh. Misunderstanding. I turned my head. “Bros messing around?” With teary eyes, she nodded frantically. I pointed randomly at one of the other guys in the room. “Then go kiss him too.” Chloe’s face instantly went white. “Sienna… what kind of person do you think I am…” As she said this, her eyes filled with humiliation, turning red like a wounded little rabbit. At that moment, one of the guys stood up. “Come on, Sienna, the guys were just playing a drinking game… Chloe’s a girl, don’t be too hard on her.” “Yeah, yeah…” “It was just a game…” Heh. I turned and looked at the crowd. “Too hard on her? So you guys actually know what that means? You didn’t think forcing me to deliver alcohol while I’m sick was being too hard on me?” The group fell silent, exchanging awkward glances for a long moment before looking at Ashton. “Ash… look at this…” “Enough.” I turned around. Ashton walked over and grabbed my arm. “What is wrong with you today? I told you it was just the guys messing around. Why won’t you let it go? You’re ruining the whole vibe.” “Chloe is a girl. Do you really have to embarrass her like this?” A girl. His “bro” had suddenly reverted to being a girl. “I’m sorry, Sienna, it’s my fault…” By now, Chloe was crying delicately. “If I knew you guys were going to fight, I wouldn’t have insisted on drinking this specific liquor…” Oh. So the alcohol was specifically requested by Chloe. My earlier suspicions were confirmed. A crushing wave of exhaustion suddenly hit me from all sides. In that moment, I just wanted to get out of this ridiculous, laughable place as fast as possible. I shook off Ashton’s hand and turned to leave. “Oh, Sienna, please don’t be mad!” Chloe tried to grab me again, but I pushed her away. “Ah…” She stumbled slightly and fell weakly right into Ashton’s arms. That little stumble seemed to instantly ignite Ashton’s fury. “Sienna! Stop right there!” he shouted from behind me. I looked back. He was holding a pitiful-looking Chloe, his face dark with rage. “Apologize to Chloe!” I stopped in my tracks and calmly looked at the face radiating anger. This face used to look at me with so many different expressions. Worry, love, heartache, helplessness… Now, because of his “bros,” he glared at me with pure hostility. “If you don’t apologize today, we’re done!” he continued. At this moment, all his good friends in the private room had the look of people enjoying a show, watching the three of us. I felt like a monkey in a circus. “Sure,” I took a step forward. “What?” Ashton frowned. “Oh Ash, look at you…” Chloe looked at me, then affectionately patted Ashton, her eyes getting even redder. “Why are you doing this? Don’t be so hard on Sienna…” “What did you say?” Ashton asked again. “I said, sure.” I looked at him calmly. “I agree. We’re done.” 3 Maybe because I was still dizzy, it wasn’t until I got into the Uber that I realized I didn’t have my apartment keys in my pocket. I probably dropped them in the club hallway. I had to turn back to look for them. Thankfully, the bartender had found them. Just as he handed the keys to me, the door to Ashton’s private room suddenly opened. Chloe was supporting a heavily intoxicated Ashton, complaining as they walked toward the restrooms. “Ugh, seriously. Even if you’re mad at Sienna, you need to take care of yourself.” “If you don’t care about yourself, someone else does.” Ashton smiled foolishly and cupped her face. “Tell me, why… why isn’t she as understanding as you? I just asked her to drop off some drinks and she gives me an attitude, even threatens to break up…” Chloe let out an “Oh.” “Well, Sienna is pretty immature. I mean, look how good you are to her. Any other girl would be so jealous… But honestly, she was definitely just saying that out of anger. You’re a rich heir; how could she bear to break up with you? Doesn’t she always come crying back?” “Rich heir, money…” Ashton paused blankly. “Maybe you guys are right. She’s just after my money…” After saying that, he muttered to himself: “Honestly, sometimes I find her really annoying. She’s sickly and weak, and I don’t even hold it against her, but she’s always complaining…” “Oh, Ash,” Chloe sighed. “You never like it when I’m honest, but Sienna acts like that because you spoil her. We all told you to set some boundaries so she wouldn’t dare act out. If you can’t bear to do it, whose fault is that?” “And stop wondering if she’s just after your money. Look at how she has you wrapped around her finger. Even if she is just after your money, you wouldn’t bear to break up with her, so stop making yourself miserable…” Talking like this, the two of them entered a handicap-accessible family restroom together. Click. The door locked from the inside. My stomach churned again. I turned and walked away. 4 Maybe because I caught a chill from the night wind, my fever spiked again in the middle of the night. In a hazy state, I seemed to dream about my past with Ashton. We both grew up in the same foster care system. I was sickly from a young age, and as far back as I could remember, Ashton was always by my side. He would fight off the kids who bullied me. He would run barefoot to find a nurse when I was sick. He would hold my hand and say in his childish voice, “Don’t worry, Sienna. I’ll take care of you forever.” And during the fire at the group home, he had already been rescued but ran back in to save me. A falling ember burned his shoulder, leaving a permanent scar. Back then, I thought, what kind of love could be more important than one’s own life? I had no parents, no family. Ashton was the best person in the world to me. So I told myself: Sienna, you have to be good to Ashton forever. When we were 16, Ashton’s biological parents found him. It turned out he was the long-lost son of a wealthy family. They took him back, and he instantly became rich. But he didn’t forget me. He would secretly visit me at my high school, bring me food and medicine, and we promised to get into the same college. And we did. We were the most envied couple on campus. And it was during that time that Chloe, along with his group of friends, entered our lives. Chloe was a minor influencer on campus, known for her “one of the guys” personality. The male friends around her all seemed to be her “bros.” The Ashton family’s business was huge in our city. I had seen enough of the cold realities of the world to understand exactly what the people surrounding Ashton were after. I warned him more than once. He didn’t care. In fact, he enjoyed the feeling of being surrounded and admired. After college, Ashton officially introduced me to his family. He knelt on the floor and told his parents I was the only one he would ever marry. Ashton’s biological mother had a kind face. She spoiled Ashton excessively, but she was incredibly harsh to me. In her eyes, a girl from the foster system with an unknown background was not worthy of stepping through their doors. When his parents refused, Ashton stood in the rain outside their mansion all night. The next day, he was hospitalized with pneumonia and a 104-degree fever. My heart broke for him. Not wanting him to be caught between me and his parents, I tried my hardest to make his mother happy. I endured her deliberate cruelty, accepted her constant criticism, and meticulously monitored my every word and action so no one could find fault. Over time, she reluctantly accepted me, but she still summoned me to their estate every weekend for what she called “Etiquette Training.” On those days, the staff were given the day off, and I was expected to serve his mother and all her friends alone. Serving tea, washing dishes, holding umbrellas. “You’re just sickly because you don’t get enough exercise,” his mother would say, watching me sweating and out of breath, while admiring her fresh manicure. “Doing more chores is good for you.” Her friends would look at me appraisingly: “She looks so weak. Can she even have kids? You should probably take her to get checked.” “No family background and can’t bear children? That would be a terrible investment.” In that house, I was like a commodity, constantly scrutinized, judged, and commented on by those condescending eyes. I never told Ashton any of this. I knew how hard he was working after taking over the company, and I didn’t want to add to his stress regarding me and his family. And honestly, it wasn’t that bad. As long as Ashton loved me, defended me, and stood firmly by my side, all these grievances meant nothing. After graduation, I received a great job offer. His family forbade me from taking it. That time, Ashton and I had a massive fight. He called me stubborn. “Don’t you know your own health condition?” he yelled. “I don’t get it. My family is letting you stay home, relax, and prepare to be my wife after graduation. What exactly are you unhappy about?” “Sienna, why are you always so selfish? I’ve worked so hard to get my family to accept you. Why can’t you be a little more understanding?” He started crying as he spoke. “I almost gave up my life to save you back then. Can’t you just compromise for me this once?” And so, I compromised again. Because he saved my life. Because he was so good to me in the past. Because he was the only light in my life. Whenever I thought of the boy who braved the fire for me, and the scar on his shoulder, no matter how bad the fight was, I always found a reason to reconcile. I didn’t ask for much. I just hoped we could be together for a long, long time. But today, I finally understood. He thought I wouldn’t leave him because I couldn’t bear to let go of his money. He actually found me incredibly annoying. Today’s deliberate “test” wasn’t the first time. And the reason I went to deliver the alcohol was probably because I was looking for the final straw to break my own heart. In my dream, tears wouldn’t stop flowing. In my memory, the sunny boy seemed to stand behind me, waving and happily calling out: “Sienna, wait for me! Let’s go together!” But I no longer wanted to walk with him. I was too tired. Letting the tears flow endlessly, I walked forward, step by step. Until I reached the end of the sunset. When I looked back— The figure in my memory had long been washed away by tears, vanishing completely. Leaving no trace that he ever existed. 5 I woke up the next day, my fever finally broken. Even though my body felt exhausted, I opened my suitcase and began packing. Just then, the front door of the apartment unlocked, and Chloe’s voice carried through the bedroom door. “Ash, the new basketball game is this afternoon. We agreed to go! I’m wearing my Lakers jersey!” Ashton gave a brief “Mhm.” My hands paused while folding clothes. Today was supposed to be the day Ashton promised to go with me to meet my biological parents. A week ago, the foster agency contacted me, saying they might have found my real parents. They requested a DNA test first. Today was the day the results were supposed to come out. I was nervous and anxious when I got the notice, but Ashton promised he would be with me. Yet, only a few days later, he forgot and made plans to go to a game with someone else. The bedroom door opened. It was Ashton. “What are you doing? Throwing another tantrum?” He frowned at me packing. “Don’t you know your own health condition? I won’t have time to go on vacation with you right now.” “I don’t need you to,” I said softly. “We broke up last night. I’m moving out today.” “Heh…” He froze for a second, then suddenly laughed. “Sienna, they always said I spoiled you too much, and I didn’t believe it.” “But look at you now. What have you turned into?” “Threatening to break up at the drop of a hat? Are you that confident I can’t live without you?” He crouched down and disgustedly batted away my hand holding the suitcase. “Enough. Didn’t you make enough of a scene last night?” “Using dropping off the liquor as an excuse to embarrass me in front of my friends, intentionally humiliating Chloe… are you satisfied yet?” A sudden surge of anger flared in my chest. I looked up and met his eyes. “Ashton. First, I told you I wasn’t feeling well, and you insisted I deliver the drinks. Second, you were the one kissing Chloe, and she was the one who spoke to me first. Third, you were the one who said we were breaking up.” I shook off his hand and zipped up the suitcase. “I’ve never been confident you couldn’t live without me. And I am perfectly capable of living without you.” “Are you serious right now?!” He raised his voice. “Constantly making a fuss about your health! Do I owe you or something?!” He exploded. “Sienna, do you have any self-awareness about how good I treat you? I literally risked my life for you!” “Last night I just asked you to bring some alcohol to see how much you actually cared about me. Turns out, I got my answer!” He grabbed my arm tightly. “Do you have any idea what my friends say about you behind your back? They say you’re a gold digger, and I’m an idiot. That you’re only here for my money!” “Shouldn’t you prove you aren’t? But what have you done? I’ve sacrificed so much for you. What have you done for me? What’s wrong with me wanting to verify things for myself?” I remained silent, which only fueled his anger. “I really loved the wrong person. You really want to break up, right? I won’t stop you. Go ahead!” “Before you walk out that door, you better think carefully. The position of Mrs. Thorne won’t be kept open for just anyone.” I looked up into his eyes, which were dull from a hangover. I used to look into these eyes and see a beautiful past, mutual support, sweet romance, and a hopeful future. Now, all I saw was a barren wasteland. “Ashton, you succeeded,” I said quietly. “What?” He froze. Ashton, you finally succeeded. You successfully made me disgusted with this relationship. You successfully made me stop loving you. 6 I left the apartment. Ashton didn’t chase after me. I hadn’t rented a new place yet, and I didn’t have a job. I spent half the day in a Starbucks on the corner, putting on some light makeup to hide my swollen eyes from crying all night. Just earlier, the DNA results came out. Tonight, I would meet my biological parents. Before, Ashton had said that parents who throw away their child right after birth must have terrible character. Now that I was looking for my family, maybe they just wanted to leech off the Thorne family’s money and resources because they knew about my relationship with him. And now, I was broken up with Ashton. I didn’t know if they would be disappointed when they saw me. What exactly is family? I didn’t really know. Ashton used to say he was my family, and his family was my family. But with his so-called “family,” all I felt was exhaustion and torment. The sunset today was beautiful. The clouds rolled gently across the horizon, bathed in a warm, golden light. I sat by the window, watching the sun slowly dip below the skyline. Finally, I grabbed my suitcase and walked out of the coffee shop. 7 The meeting place was a high-end restaurant not far away. I dragged my heavy suitcase, preparing to cross the street. Suddenly, an e-bike sped toward me from a distance. In a split second, I couldn’t dodge in time. A strong force from behind yanked me, spinning me and my suitcase around. The e-bike zipped past, brushing the edge of my skirt. “Are you okay?” The voice of the person who saved me came from above. It was a very nice, deep voice. I shook my head and quickly thanked him. “It’s fine. There are a lot of e-bikes around here, be careful when you walk or drive.” He smiled, but froze the moment he saw my face. “You… could you be… Sienna?” I froze too. “I am Sienna. You are…” “Your cousin’s brother-in-law,” he smiled. “Your face looks exactly like Aunt Nora’s. Why did we even need a DNA test? I guess the Sterling family has been scammed so many times they’re being overly cautious.” He sighed. “But then again, there have been quite a few scammers with plastic surgery trying to claim the inheritance, so we couldn’t be too careful.” “Let’s go.” He enthusiastically grabbed my suitcase. “There are too many gossips at Sterling Corp, so meeting at a restaurant owned by Vance Corp is to protect you. I cleared the place out. Don’t worry.” “You said… Sterling… Vance…” He thought for a second, then let out an “Ah.” “Forgot, you don’t know yet.” He smiled. “You are the only daughter of the second son of the Sterling Group.” “I’m Preston Vance from Vance Corp. My sister married your cousin, so our families are in-laws.” 8 Sterling Group, Vance Corp… Before I could fully process it, I had followed Preston to the restaurant entrance. A group of people were standing at the door, looking anxiously in our direction. At that moment, a beautiful, elegant woman suddenly rushed forward and hugged me. “Is it Sienna? Is it my Sienna?” She cupped my face, crying uncontrollably. “It really is my baby. Honey, our baby is back.” A tall man standing behind her walked over, his eyes also red. “Yes, our baby is back.” Looking at the face in front of me that shared seventy percent of my features, the corners of my eyes involuntarily grew hot and stinging. “Uncle Sterling, Aunt Nora, let’s go inside first,” Preston said softly from the side. Once inside the VIP room, my biological mother held my hand tightly the entire time. I could feel her hand trembling slightly. Today, the director of the foster agency and the police were also present. They collectively explained the process of finding me. It turned out that back then, after Nora gave birth to me, they had hired a nanny. Nora was ill for a while after having me, and the nanny, thinking she was attractive, tried to seduce my biological father, Sterling. He didn’t indulge her, and out of spite, the nanny stole me after being fired. Technology wasn’t as advanced back then. Even though the Sterling family had money, they searched for a long time without finding her. It wasn’t until six months later that the police found the nanny’s clothes and some baby clothes on an undeveloped beach, along with a suicide note. The note said that since she couldn’t have Sterling, she would make sure he never forgot her. So she took his child and died with her. The police later found the nanny’s abandoned car near the cliffs, but they never found me. They assumed the worst. Over the years, even though most people assumed I had died, my parents never gave up. They never had another child, holding onto a sliver of hope, searching and waiting. But the nanny didn’t actually kill me. Perhaps due to a final shred of conscience, or a twisted desire to satisfy her own narrative, she left me at the doorstep of a foster home in the next county. She left a note saying my name was Sienna and that my mother was a single teen mom who couldn’t raise a child. The last name she gave me was hers. Later, that foster home burned down, and we kids were transferred to a facility in the city. But because my background had a record—that my “biological mother” had a different last name—naturally, no one associated me with the supposedly deceased heiress of the Sterling family. For so many years, I was in the same city as my biological parents, yet we never met. Until recently, during a charity project by Vance Corp, CEO Preston Vance chatted with my former foster agency director, bringing up that tragic fire. The director pulled out childhood photos of the kids, and Preston noticed that my photo looked exactly like Nora when she was a child star. Suspicious, he informed the Sterling family. Over the years, the Sterling family had dealt with too many fake heiresses showing up at their door. Some even bribed hospitals to forge DNA reports just to inherit the massive estate. So this time, they were just as anxious as I was, not daring to hold out hope. Even though they were desperate to see me, they held back until now, fearing that the greater the hope, the greater the disappointment. 9 That night, I went home with my parents. My uncle and cousin’s family were there too. My mom held my hand and asked gently, “Sienna, the director told us you were dating the youngest son of the Thorne family. Is that true?” I froze for a moment. “I…” “Mom and Dad don’t mean anything by it,” she quickly added. “Even though the Thorne family isn’t as prestigious as ours, if you like him, we’ll support you.” I shook my head. “Mom, Dad, we broke up.” My dad asked what I wanted to do next, and if I was willing to learn how to manage the company. I hesitated. I had no corporate experience. “I’m afraid I don’t have what it takes,” I said, looking down. “Sienna just got back, why are you rushing her?” my mom immediately complained. That night, I slept with my mom. I’m a light sleeper. I knew she woke up many times in the middle of the night, gently stroking my hair, crying softly to herself. And my dad made breakfast for me himself the next morning. He watched me eat with red eyes, carefully asking if it tasted good. During the few days I was home, I felt a familial love I had never experienced before. They were doing everything they could to make it up to me, but I knew that these past years must have been more painful for them than for me. A few days later, my cousin Declan came to see me. Preston was there too. Declan told me that my dad’s health hadn’t been great in recent years. The mental torture of searching for me for years and the pressure of running the business were like two mountains crushing him. His doctors had long advised him to retire and rest. Actually, I had already noticed the grey at his temples. Even though he was five years younger than my uncle, he looked much older. “Sienna, Sterling Corp currently has two main business divisions. One is with me, and the other is with your dad. And his division will eventually need to be handed over to you.” Declan asked me, “Are you willing to take it?” I lowered my head, thought for a long time, and finally nodded. “I’m willing to try.” Declan let out a sigh of relief. Then Preston, who had been quiet, suddenly chimed in: “I think… dropping her straight into Sterling Corp might not be the best idea.” Declan looked up. “Why not?” “The people at Sterling Corp are shrewd. She looks so much like Aunt Nora; don’t you think people will guess who she is?” “Gossip is one thing, but that kind of complex interpersonal environment isn’t conducive to her learning.” Declan frowned slightly. “You make a fair point. Then…” “If you want to help, go all the way,” Preston smiled. He walked over. “If she really wants to learn corporate management, how about she comes to my place?” Me: “Huh?” He blinked. “Vance Corp is just as big as Sterling Corp.”

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Late at night, I saw a delivery order on my boyfriend’s phone. The note read, “For my darling,” but the delivery address was his cousin’s hotel room upstairs. “Jealous?” The man behind me wrapped his arms around me, his breath warm against my neck. The man was my boyfriend’s older cousin. 1 He grabbed the phone from me and turned off the screen. Liam pulled me over the covers to face him, asking, “Continue?” I suddenly felt a surge of panic. Taking advantage of the fact that neither of us was fully undressed yet, I scrambled off the bed, but I couldn’t find my other shoe. As I hesitated whether to crawl and check under the bed, a pair of unopened disposable hotel slippers was tossed my way. “Wear these.” He lit a cigarette. “The floor is dusty.” “My shoe…” “It’s not going anywhere.” Liam leaned back against the headboard, his tone languid. “I’ll find it and bring it to you.” Saying this, he glanced at me, his gaze lingering on me for two seconds before looking away. He impatiently loosened his collar. “Go to the bathroom and fix your clothes first. People might think I actually did something to you.” My face flushed red, and I turned and ran into the bathroom. In the mirror was a woman with a flushed, peach-blossom complexion, her shirt unbuttoned past her collarbone. Was that me? Liam seemed to have just showered; the bathroom still held residual steam, feeling damp and suffocating. The memories of what had just happened flooded back into my mind unbidden. 2 During the Thanksgiving break, I brought my best friend, Chloe, and my boyfriend, Ethan, brought his older cousin, Liam. The four of us went on a road trip together. That night, Ethan said he was going upstairs to keep his heartbroken cousin company. While I was using his laptop to send an email, I accidentally stumbled upon an anonymous post he had made: “Got rejected by my goddess. To see her every day, I started dating her best friend.” “The goddess confessed to me during our trip, but my girlfriend treats me really well. How should I choose?” “The goddess asked me to come to her room in the middle of the night. What should I do? Waiting online, it’s urgent.” “…” The timestamp on the last post was five minutes before he went upstairs. In an instant, the shackles of a double betrayal locked around me. With red eyes, I went to my best friend’s room, only to hear unbearable conversations through the door: “Aren’t you afraid your girlfriend will find out you sneaked up here to see me?” “Heh, I wouldn’t have come if I was afraid.” “Mhm… gentler… I can’t take it.” The ambiguous sounds of pleasure stimulated every nerve in my body. Ethan had probably forgotten— Today was our one-year anniversary. Wearing only a thin nightgown, I stood outside the door for a long time, so long that my hands and feet went numb and cold. What should I do? Kick the door open, catch them in the act, tear off their masks, and then be humiliated by them? I took a deep breath. In a moment of impulsive anger, I chose to turn around, knock on the door, and enter Ethan’s cousin’s room. Liam had just taken a shower, wearing loose pajamas, and I pushed him onto the bed and kissed him. And then. I saw Ethan’s phone on his bed. Liam was honest. He shrugged and told me casually— Ethan gave him the phone and told him that if I called, he should answer and cover for him. I unlocked the phone and saw the late-night delivery order Ethan had placed. Before going upstairs, he bought two boxes of ultra-thin condoms, and the delivery address was Chloe’s room. … “Taking that long?” Liam’s voice suddenly echoed from behind me. He leaned against the doorway, looking me up and down with half-closed eyes, his expression languid. I hurriedly retreated from the bathroom. “Then I’ll head back first…” After saying that, I walked around him to open the door. But unexpectedly ran into Ethan, who had just come out of Chloe’s room next door. Our eyes met. The hallway fell dead silent. 3 “Weren’t you supposed to be keeping Liam company?” After the silence, I chose to interrogate him first. “Yeah.” After a tactical pause, he feigned calmness and defended himself, “Just now, Chloe came knocking and said there was a cockroach in her room, and insisted I help her kill it.” “So dramatic.” Saying this, he walked towards me. “Why are you in my cousin’s room?” Hearing him ask about Liam, I inexplicably remembered that hot, lingering kiss from earlier. My earlobes felt burning hot. “I came looking for you.” I also lied without changing my expression. “Liam said you went out, and let me come in to see the phone you left behind.” Actually, at the moment we ran into each other, I wanted to expose everything. But now. I suddenly didn’t want to anymore. I wanted to see how long he could keep up the act. Ethan was feeling guilty, after all, so he didn’t dare press for details. He took his phone and put his arm around me, walking back to our room. We closed the door and got into bed separately. At my insistence, Ethan had booked a room with two double beds. He hesitated for a moment, then lifted my blanket and crawled in. “Audrey…” I felt disgusted and pushed him away forcefully. “Are you angry?” He hugged me tighter instead, one hand stealthily reaching under the hem of my dress. “Audrey, should we…” I kicked him in the knee. “Get out!” Ethan cried out in pain and let go, but he also secretly breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t have the energy right now anyway; he was just putting on a show, afraid I would get suspicious. Feeling a chill on his back, he threw off the blanket and got out of bed, seemingly angered by my kick. “Audrey, we’ve been dating for a year, who are you saving yourself for?” He angrily got into his own bed and turned his back to me. Probably tired from earlier, snoring soon echoed from his side of the room. The lights in the room were turned off. Therefore, when Ethan’s muted phone received a message, the lit screen was particularly conspicuous. I quietly got out of bed and took the phone. It was a message from Chloe: “Liar, didn’t you say you bought two boxes? We only used 3.” “[Smirk Emoji]” 4 At midnight, I was so disgusted by those two people that I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to go down to the lounge bar and have a drink. But I unexpectedly ran into Liam. He was easy to spot. Wearing a gray hoodie, an incredibly handsome face, but with an inherent, aloof vibe. As I hesitated whether to go up and talk to him, Liam already saw me. “Liam…” Just as I sat down, a glass of alcohol was shoved into my hand. Liam’s voice sounded across from me, “Impressive.” “When you forcefully kissed me, you called me Liam, but as soon as you walked out the door, you changed it to ‘Cousin Liam’ to be polite.” I felt a bit embarrassed by his words and could only take a sip of the drink. This liquor was so spicy. I forced myself to down it in one gulp. Then my face scrunched up from the burn. “Heh.” A low chuckle came from across the table. Liam asked, “Want me to swap it for juice?” “No need.” I replied with a muffled voice, grabbed the bottle, and poured myself a full glass. “If you’re a man, drink with me until we drop.” Liam smiled. He poured himself a glass too and asked me, “What’s your tolerance?” “Umm…” I bit my lip and thought for a long time. I had only had one glass, yet my thoughts were already slowing down. After thinking for a while, I looked up and answered honestly. “Never drank before.” I thought I could handle at least half a bottle. As a result, I started acting crazy after two glasses. I rested my chin on my hand and observed Liam across the table. At first, he just looked handsome, but as I kept looking— That face gradually morphed into my dad’s. I stared at him for a good while. “Dad?” The drink Liam had just swallowed almost choked him out. 5 While Liam was tipsy, I was completely wasted. He wouldn’t let me drink anymore. He said he wanted to take me back to the hotel. There was an unmanned 24-hour convenience store near the lounge. As I walked past the door, I stubbornly refused to leave. Liam rubbed his temples. “What do you want to do? My little princess.” “We’re buying too,” I pointed inside the store. “We’re buying three boxes!” My voice was a bit loud, instantly drawing the attention of passersby. Liam cursed under his breath. “Stop messing around.” He tried to pull me away, but was a step too late. I slipped into the store. As I was dizzyingly trying to operate the machine, a hand suddenly reached out from behind me. “Really want to buy them?” “Yes, I want to buy them.” He raised his hand and directly deleted the three boxes I had selected. The man’s voice behind me was inexplicably huskier, “You bought the wrong size.” 6 Bought the wrong size. Wrong size… My face flushed so red I couldn’t speak. I didn’t know if it was because I was dizzy from the alcohol or flushed from embarrassment, but I stumbled back to the hotel, my pockets bulging with three boxes. At the door of his room, he stopped to block me. “It’s not too late to back out now.” I was stubborn. “Whoever backs out is a coward.” He was much taller than me. He looked down at me, his gaze somewhat intense. “Are you sure?” “I’m sure.” The next second, I was pulled into the room. I felt a bit dizzy. His jacket was draped over my head, and his voice came from above, “I’m going to take a shower. Wait for me in bed.” By the time I clumsily pulled the jacket off, he had already gone into the bathroom. The sound of running water seeped through the crack in the door. It made me incredibly nervous. Catching sight of a few cans of beer on the table, I walked over, opened one, and took a huge gulp. “Burp…” I felt even dizzier. When Liam came out, I was curled up on the edge of the bed, and there were two crushed beer cans on the nightstand. “Drank by yourself?” He frowned. But I narrowed my eyes and evaluated him. It wasn’t the image of a beautiful man emerging from the bath wrapped in a towel like I had imagined. He came out wearing pajama pants and a shirt. Liam walked up to me. He was very strong. Reaching out and scooping me up, he pressed me onto the bed. “Didn’t you say we were going to use them?” He patted the pocket where I had stuffed the three boxes. My face flushed. Under his gaze, I quickly lifted my head and gave him a peck. “That’s it?” He chuckled. “You don’t even know how to kiss.” The hand cupping the back of my head suddenly tightened its grip, and he lowered his head to kiss me. A faint scent of tobacco engulfed me. Just as I was about to run out of breath, my phone suddenly rang. Ethan. 7 “Hello…” When I answered the phone, I was still panting slightly. “Audrey, where are you?” Facing Liam’s smiling gaze in front of me, my heart skipped a beat, and I turned my head away to lie, “At my friend’s place.” I have a friend I’m pretty close with in this city; Ethan knew about her. After symbolically comforting me with a few words, Ethan hung up the phone. Liam used his thumb to wipe the corner of my mouth. “Continue?” I shook my head, saying I couldn’t. Because of nerves, my hand clutched the hem of his shirt, refusing to let go. Knock, knock— A knock on the door suddenly sounded. “Liam, open the door!” Ethan’s voice unexpectedly rang out outside the door. I jumped in fright and instinctively looked at Liam. He seemed completely unfazed. He threw the blanket over my head and got up to open the door. “What’s up?” I heard the flick of a lighter; Liam seemed to have lit a cigarette. “Do me a favor, Liam, I’m begging you.” Ethan didn’t hold back. “Audrey went to her friend’s place. My phone is with you. If she calls, help me cover.” “I don’t care.” “Come on, Liam. Chloe doesn’t like being interrupted, but I’m afraid Audrey won’t be able to reach me and will rush back to the hotel.” As he spoke, Ethan suddenly saw me. “Liam, I was wondering why you took so long to open the door. Turns out you’re hiding someone in your room too.” I panicked and quickly pulled back the lower half of my leg that was exposed outside the blanket, but he still saw it. “Tsk, those legs are long and fair. You can tell she’s a beauty just by looking at her legs.” Liam seemed to chuckle. “Your girlfriend isn’t bad either.” “Her?” Ethan scoffed. “She only lets me look, not touch. She’s incredibly prudish.” “Forget it, talking about her in the middle of the night kills the mood. Have fun, Liam. Remember to cover for me if she calls.” With that, I heard the sound of the door closing. “Come out.” Seeing I wasn’t moving, Liam walked over and pulled the blanket off my head. I stared at him intently. Soon, familiar sounds came from next door—Chloe’s voice. I bit my lip hard and looked up at him. “Liam, let’s use those two boxes.” 8 Liam has a pair of very beautiful eyes. Right now. Those eyes were looking at me. The emotions surging within them looked like pure desire. I was about to melt into them, but he suddenly reined in his emotions. He grabbed me, pinned me down on the bed, pulled up the blanket, and piled it on top of me. “Go to sleep.” His voice was incredibly hoarse. The piercing sounds of pleasure continued to come from next door. I felt unwilling and leaned in to kiss him. Holding Liam’s face, I peppered it with kisses like a woodpecker. Until his breathing grew heavier. Then. Liam almost gritted his teeth as he wrapped me tightly in the blanket. “I don’t take advantage of people when they’re drunk. We’ll talk when you’re sober.” He rolled me into a burrito and hugged me from behind. “Sleep.” His breath was warm, puffing against the back of my neck, hot and ticklish. It was so uncomfortable. I rubbed against him uncomfortably, but his arms tightened around me. “Stop moving around.”

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My mom had a severe case of being “love-struck” when she was young. She worked two jobs just to put my dad through college. But when he finally graduated and got a cushy government job, he dumped her. The reasons were simple and, to him, completely justified: A factory girl vs. a government official—they were no longer in the same league. People say life is a long marathon. When two people are in love, if one is sprinting forward and the other is standing still, the one running fast will inevitably leave the other behind. In my dad’s eyes, my mom was the one standing still. They belonged to different social classes now and no longer had any common ground. My mom wasn’t willing to be dumped. In their small apartment, she screamed and cried, calling him a completely ungrateful bastard, and refused to break up. “A breakup only takes one person to decide. If I want it, it’s happening. You’re just being broken up with.” “But we’re married! We’re husband and wife! We aren’t just dating!” My dad laughed out loud and held out an empty hand: “Husband and wife? Where’s the marriage certificate?” 1 My mom was stunned. They had a wedding reception back in their rural hometown, but they never actually filed for a marriage certificate! She heard that many people in that area did the same thing. She didn’t have much schooling, and even less legal knowledge. She never thought about using the law to protect herself. After crying in that apartment for a few days, she actually just let him walk away. All those years, the youth she sacrificed, the money she spent… were all wiped away by his single sentence: “I wronged you. I owe you the money for now, and I’ll pay you back double in the future.” My mom no longer had a man to support, lost her motivation to make money, and, heartbroken, left the coastal city to return to her hometown. A half month later, she discovered she was pregnant with me. She called my dad, but his phone number had been disconnected. I don’t know what she was thinking, but she didn’t get an abortion. She insisted on having me. Over the following years, she went from running a small street food cart selling spicy noodles to owning her first storefront, then a second… Through sheer hard work, life for the two of us got better and better. My mom stayed single. Relatives, friends, and neighbors constantly tried to set her up with men, but she rejected them all. She would say: “Men are all trash!” She would say: “Isn’t it great being alone? I make my own money and spend it on myself. How desperate would I have to be to look for a man?” She would say: “Penny, you need to study hard. When you grow up, focus on your career! Men will betray you, but your career won’t.” I completely agreed. 2 My name is Penny White. “White” is my mom’s last name. “Penny” is because she loved the sound of wind chimes, the crisp, jingling sound they make. When I was born, there happened to be a faded wind chime hanging in the hospital room, so she gave me this name. The name was quite casual, but my mom’s approach to my education was anything but. Even when we were still running the street food cart and she was pinching pennies, she would always buy me books. I remember under the dim yellow streetlights, while she was busy serving customers, I would sit on a small stool nearby reading. Little bugs would constantly swarm the book. I was afraid of getting the book dirty and afraid to squash the bugs. During those summer nights, I would always read with one hand and wave the bugs away with the other. I remember customers or other vendors praising me for loving to read, saying I would definitely be an A-student. My mom loved hearing that and would always smile, “My girl loves reading.” For her pride, and for my own vanity, I pushed myself to be excellent. Not just in school, but outside of it too. From elementary to high school: art, dance, advanced math… Student council, top of the class, class president, class president, class president… I became exactly the kind of person my mom and I wanted me to be. Until— The second semester of my junior year. The homeroom teacher suddenly stripped me of my class president title and replaced me with a student he preferred. 3 Her name was Chloe Sterling, a new transfer student. On her first day, she walked into the classroom with her head down, following right behind the homeroom teacher, Mr. Davis. The classroom erupted. The boys in the back went from secretly whistling to openly cheering: “Gorgeous! What a beauty!” Mr. Davis scolded us with a smile: “Don’t scare the new student. Chloe is new to the school, so everyone needs to help her out.” The boys erupted again, shouting over each other: “We got it!” “Don’t worry, Mr. Davis!” “Leave the new girl to us!”… Mr. Davis nodded in satisfaction, then suddenly changed the subject: “Chloe comes from a big city. She’s seen the world, and her grades are outstanding. From today on, she will be our class president.” Instantly, the cheering stopped, and my classmates all turned to look at me. Mr. Davis paused, his gaze landing on me: “Penny will be the vice president. You’ll assist Chloe and help her get familiar with everything.” I felt a knot in my chest. A new student had just arrived. No one knew her, and no one knew her character. Why should she be the class president? My face must have shown my displeasure, and I didn’t stand up to express my agreement. Mr. Davis frowned, looking directly at me: “Is it really that hard to acknowledge someone else’s excellence? “You can always learn from others. Don’t you understand that basic principle?” Every word felt like a deliberate strike against me. I held back my frustration and finally yielded to his authority: “Yes, Mr. Davis, don’t worry. I will do a good job assisting her.” The feeling… It was like swallowing a dead fly and then having to say it tasted good. 4 Chloe Sterling was quite the character. After class, she hesitantly walked over to my desk. “President…” I looked up at her. She was biting her lower lip, her fair, clean little face looking like she was about to cry. Truly… A classic “mean girl playing the victim.” “President Chloe, what is this expression supposed to mean? I didn’t bully you, did I?” I was incredibly annoyed. She was pulling this routine right in front of the whole class! “No.” Her voice was as soft as a mosquito. “Vice President Penny, I didn’t want to steal your position. I just got here and don’t know anything, please don’t be mad… “…Mr. Davis didn’t tell me beforehand… Later, let’s go find him together and ask him to give the position back to you…” She looked so sincere. I felt like I was hearing the funniest joke in the world. Mr. Davis had made the decision. I had just expressed my dissatisfaction during class, and now she wanted to go talk to him? Was she trying to make my impression on him drop to the nineteenth level of hell? I looked at her, scrutinizing her. This manipulative girl! Even though it was between classes, she had managed to make the classroom grow quieter and quieter. The whole class was looking our way, dead silent. Chloe suddenly started crying, her voice loud: “I didn’t do it on purpose! Penny, I’ll give the position back to you, just please don’t be mad at me, boohoo…” I finally experienced the helplessness a normal girl feels when facing a manipulative victim. When she held me hostage with her “morality,” trying to break free was simply too hard! Everyone around was waiting for my answer, and more eyes fell on me, expectant. I felt like I was being forced onto a battlefield. I slowly stood up, looking her dead in the eye: “Chloe, just do your job well as president. No one is trying to make things difficult for you.” Chloe instantly broke into a smile through her tears, grabbing my hand and whining coquettishly: “I knew Penny was the best! I just got to this class, you’ll definitely help me, right?” Me: … I laughed out of sheer annoyance. Look at this little thing pushing her luck! “I’ll help!” I dragged out the word. “Not only will I help, our whole class will help!” I looked at the crowd of onlookers and asked them directly: “Isn’t that right, guys?” “Right!” The boys laughed and agreed, some girls didn’t answer, others rolled their eyes… 5 Mr. Davis and Chloe must have been true love. In the first benchmark exam after the semester started, Chloe, the little princess who had “seen the world and had outstanding grades,” didn’t even make the top five in the class, let alone the grade. Her total score was 13 points lower than mine. Mr. Davis found a bunch of excuses for her: She wasn’t used to the new environment; she hadn’t adapted to the teaching methods here; the test questions were too simple, so kids with active minds were actually more prone to making careless mistakes… Mr. Davis comforted her: “Take your time, you’ll be fine once you get used to it.” Mr. Davis ordered me: “You need to take on more of the class duties. Don’t just hold the vice president title and do nothing!” I laughed out loud on the spot. He said it as if Chloe had ever done any class duties. Mr. Davis glared at me fiercely, and I lowered my head, pretending to be invisible. Ever since Chloe joined our class, whenever Mr. Davis assigned tasks, his first sentence was always “President Chloe will take the lead,” and then he would call my name or the names of other class officers, telling us to assist Chloe. Naturally, we “veterans” ended up doing all the actual work. Once the task was finished, Mr. Davis couldn’t wait to praise Chloe: “Great leadership! The job was done beautifully!” Those of us doing the work inevitably started gossiping: “He’s so biased he must be blind! Is she a relative or something?” “Even a relative wouldn’t get this kind of treatment! Last Friday, I saw him personally escort Chloe out of the school, open the car door for her, and practically bow to the people inside!” “It must be a government official…” “I heard it’s the new county commissioner. Chloe told the girls in her dorm.” We all fell silent. In the adult world, we didn’t necessarily agree with it, but we understood it. 6 As the midterms approached, the class voted for the Outstanding Student Leader. My name was at the top of the list, and the whole class voted for me almost unanimously. When it came to Chloe, I didn’t raise my hand. Again, why should I? She was a class president who didn’t have to do a damn thing, just let the homeroom teacher spoil her. I wasn’t obligated to cater to her. Several other class officers who did a lot of work didn’t raise their hands either. We just didn’t like this girl who relied on her strong connections to get special treatment. We were the veterans in the class, so we naturally set an example. Plus, some of the girls already disliked her whiny attitude… As a result, only 23 people voted for her, not even half the class. Chloe’s eyes instantly turned red, and she buried her face in her desk, sobbing loudly. Mr. Davis had a stern look on his face. It should have been time to vote for the next candidate, but he suppressed it and made the whole class vote again. Seventeen and eighteen-year-olds are at an age where their sense of justice is overflowing. The second vote: 25 people. Only two more people, still not half. The classroom was very quiet, making Chloe’s sobbing seem particularly loud. “What is wrong with you all?!” Mr. Davis suddenly erupted, slamming his hand down on the podium with a loud bang. “Chloe is the president of our class. If you don’t vote for her as Outstanding Leader, do you want other classes to laugh at us? “Chloe does so much for this class! Her grades are outstanding! Even if you aren’t grateful, at a time like this, you should be fair and just!” I don’t know how many people in the class were like me in that moment, lowering their heads in silence on the surface, but inwardly scoffing in contempt… But I knew Mr. Davis was glaring fiercely at me. His next few sentences were all thinly veiled attacks: “You’re all old enough now. For something as small as an election, do you really have to look at others for cues? “Some people are overly jealous. They always feel like something was stolen from them, but they never reflect on themselves! “What’s the use of just having good grades? Morals first, character first, kindness first! Have you studied for so many years just to forget all that?! “I’m giving you one last chance. Vote again!” As his voice faded, someone in the class whispered: “If you want to secure her spot, just change the vote count! Why bother voting?” It was a boy’s voice. Although it was quiet, the rebellion and disdain in his tone were practically overflowing. When had Mr. Davis ever faced such defiance? He froze on the spot, his face turning bright red, then started slamming the desk frantically: “Who? Who is talking? Stand up right now!” The boy’s words represented the thoughts of so many of us. No one in the class made a sound. After Mr. Davis threw his fit, he slammed the door and stormed out. The classmates looked at each other in dismay. A few of us class officers briefly discussed it, finished the remaining voting process, copied down the vote counts, and had the English representative deliver them. (The homeroom teacher was our English teacher). 7 This incident should have ended there. Half a month later, the bulletin for Outstanding Student Leaders was posted. Except for Chloe, who was named a State-level Outstanding Leader, everyone else received city, county, or school-level honors. Everyone instantly understood why Mr. Davis had been so furious that day. He wanted to secure her position. In this world, people don’t fear poverty; they fear unfairness. When the school’s honor roll was posted, the classroom was filled with a heavy gloom. Students from other classes also came over to ask about it. In our school and our grade, there were only two spots for State-level Outstanding Leader, and there was definitely more than one student leader more outstanding than Chloe Sterling! Where there’s doubt, there are explanations. The school’s official reasoning was: You can’t just look at grades and class votes. You also have to consider other aspects. A student must be well-rounded in morals, intelligence, and physical fitness. They produced a huge list of awards Chloe had won and volunteer activities she had participated in, at both the state and city levels. Most were in the arts, and most were hosted by private organizations. Mr. Davis specifically called me into his office and expressed three points: First, the list of State-level Outstanding Leaders had been publicly posted on the state Department of Education website. For 7 days, no one raised any objections. Now it was set in stone. No matter how dissatisfied anyone was, they just had to suck it up! Second, this quota didn’t mean much to me. He told me not to care about it. Any student who had won first place in the Math Olympiad, Physics Olympiad, Chemistry Olympiad, or Informatics Olympiad already had a huge advantage in independent college admissions. Even if they added State-level Outstanding Leader to their resume, it wouldn’t mean much. I had won first place in the Chemistry Olympiad during the first semester of my junior year, so there was really no need to fight for this. A gentleman helps others achieve their goals, not ruin them. More friends mean more paths in life. Third, he hoped I would assist him in pacifying the emotions of the other students in the class. He promised that if there were other opportunities in the future, he would definitely recommend me. At 17, I was already past the age of speaking without thinking. My mind was full of curses directed at him: Trash! How does someone like this deserve to be a teacher?! If there was a war, he would definitely be a traitor! But my words were much softer: “I heard President Chloe’s father is the county’s second-in-command. Mr. Davis, are you trying to take a shortcut to a promotion?” “Nonsense! Who told you that?” He lowered his voice. “The person involved, of course. The whole class knows.” Mr. Davis’s face darkened, and he opened and closed his mouth several times without speaking. Seeing him speechless, I felt incredibly satisfied and just walked away from the responsibility: “I can’t do the pacifying work. Stopping the people’s mouths is harder than stopping a river. I don’t have that kind of ability!” Mr. Davis exhaled heavily and waved me away. 8 Chloe started crying again. When she talked to other class officers or the boys, she constantly wore a timid expression, her eyes red as if someone had bullied her. I really couldn’t understand it. With a family background like hers, so many people trying to suck up to her and serve her respectfully, it was a miracle she hadn’t developed an arrogant and bossy personality. How did she end up acting like a manipulative victim? As for the State-level Outstanding Leader issue, although everyone discussed it heatedly for a few days, the people who truly cared about it and had the capability to fight for it… In the whole grade, you could count them on one hand. Everyone was smart. We knew there was no benefit in obsessing over it. The result was hard to change, so it was better to do a few more practice tests and try to score a few more points on the college entrance exams. A half-month later, no one in the class was discussing it anymore. Our midterm grades also came out. I was still first in the class, third in the grade. Meanwhile, Chloe fell from the top ten in the class to outside the top ten. The parent-teacher conference went ahead as scheduled. 9 My mom knew there was a transfer student in our class, and she knew the transfer student’s father was the new county commissioner. I occasionally gossiped with her. She wasn’t interested in this kind of stuff. Every time she listened to me, she just offered a few noncommittal “uh-huhs” before changing the subject: “Grades are still the most important thing! We’ll just get into a good college directly. Isn’t that much more impressive than them racking their brains trying to find loopholes?” Then she would change the subject again: “If you think the social atmosphere is bad, then go change it! “You don’t have much power now and can’t do much, but wait until you graduate college, take the civil service exam, become a good official, and find a way to fix these corrupt practices!” My mom had an obsession with the civil service exam. No matter how nice she made it sound, no matter how many times she shouted slogans like “the end goal of the universe is a government job,” I knew she was hung up on someone. Or rather, she couldn’t let go. Couldn’t let go of that youth. That love. That all-consuming devotion, and the absolute, total betrayal… 10 The parent-teacher conference was on a Friday afternoon. My mom dressed up beautifully. She loved attending parent-teacher conferences. Her daughter had good grades and was the class president—the classic “other people’s child.” For all these years, she was the envy of other parents and was often asked to share her experience. However, When she came back that evening, she was in a terrible mood. She walked through the door and immediately slumped onto the sofa. “Mom, what’s wrong? Did Mr. Davis give you a hard time?” “It’s nothing, I’m just a little tired. Go do your homework… Let me sit here for a bit, I’ll cook dinner for you later.” She propped her elbow on the armrest of the sofa, rubbing her temples with her fingertips, looking utterly exhausted. I poured a glass of warm water and placed it in her hand. Her fingertips were ice cold. “Mom, what exactly happened?” “It’s adult stuff, don’t worry about it. Hurry up and do your homework!” My mom urged, her voice quite loud, carrying a hint of impatience. I got up and walked toward the study. Before entering, I turned back and took one last look at her— Her spine suddenly relaxed, her energy seemingly drained in an instant, looking like a spent arrow. “Mom, let’s have dumplings for dinner! I want some.” There were frozen dumplings in the fridge. My mom nodded.

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