After a month of relentless heat and drought, the temperature finally began to drop. Karen, my neighbor, saw me moving out and sneered, “What’s this? Finally decided to get lost?” Little did she know that our neighborhood was about to become an isolated zone of high-temperature acid rain. Those who couldn’t escape were doomed to die. I woke up from a nightmare, the pain of acid rain corroding my skin and bones still lingering, causing me to shiver uncontrollably. In the dream, a strange acid rain fell, residents scattered to escape, only to find that the neighborhood was covered by an invisible dome. Those inside couldn’t get out, and those outside couldn’t get in. I’ve always had a habit of hoarding things, so I could barely manage with the food I had at home. Karen, the neighbor downstairs, had a good relationship with me, so when I heard her plea for food, I immediately opened the door. But I never expected that Karen’s family was waiting at the door. As soon as I opened a crack, they violently pushed their way in. They ransacked my stored food and drinking water, tied me up, and pushed me out of the building. The acid rain fell on my body, corroding my skin into blisters. I cried out in pain and despair in the rain, trying to awaken a shred of conscience in them. They just gave me a cold look, “You little bitch, you were hiding quite a lot! It’s enough for our family to live on for a while!” My voice gradually grew weaker. The laughter of Karen’s family was still piercing, mixing with the sound of rain to form a horrifying symphony. Since heaven has given me this chance, I must survive at all costs.

After graduating from college, I went to work in another city. My parents, wanting me to live comfortably, bought a small two-bedroom apartment near my workplace. On the first day I moved in, Karen, the neighbor, came to talk to me proactively. She was the security guard for this area, her husband worked at the same company as me, and she had a son in high school preparing for his final exams. Being new to the city, Karen’s enthusiasm made me feel welcome. After learning that her husband worked with me, I let my guard down even more. Our company had good benefits, often distributing fruits and flour during holidays. I always used the excuse of living alone to give part of my benefits to her family. She would always accept them with a smile, not forgetting to compliment me. Looking back now, Karen seemed to always be taking things from me, but never gave me anything in return. Those light compliments were far less substantial than actual material goods. I couldn’t help but recall the pain of slowly losing my life in the acid rain in my dream. The moonlight outside the window flowed slowly, the neighborhood was peaceful, showing no signs of the hell on earth that would come in half a month. Karen’s cursing voice next door was particularly clear: “I must have been blind to marry into this family, I’m so unlucky to live with you people, a husband who doesn’t strive for success, a son who doesn’t study, how can my life be so miserable!” Then came the sound of dishes and bowls being smashed. I took out my phone and sent Karen a voice message on SnapChat, “You’re really noisy, even if your family life is bad, you shouldn’t disturb others in the middle of the night.”

Perhaps my sudden change surprised Karen for a moment. After half a minute of silence, Karen started smashing tables and chairs at home with renewed vigor. “Fine, you all bully me, and you, little bitch next door, don’t be so smug, you’ll have your day of misfortune!” Neighbors nearby were gradually woken up by the noise, but everyone tacitly remained silent. I should have realized earlier that in this neighborhood, no one associated with this family. Only I was still foolishly being kind to them. Realizing that no one was responding to her, Karen’s noise gradually died down. As soon as I woke up, I sent a message to a real estate agency, asking them to keep an eye out for a house nearby but in a different neighborhood. I needed to move. In the days before moving, I definitely couldn’t let Karen’s family have a comfortable life. The pain I suffered had to be returned in full.

The high temperature of over 40°C (104°F) had lasted for more than half a month. The company boss, considering the difficulty of employees coming to work, had arranged for an early vacation. I set an alarm for 4 AM, planning to go to a distant market to buy some living supplies first. Even though the days of acid rain might not affect me after moving out, I still needed to prepare for the abnormally high temperatures in the coming months. Although it was still half dark when I left home, I felt a wave of high temperature as soon as I stepped out. I quickly drove to the market, bought freeze-dried vegetables, sausages, and bottled water from several scattered stalls, then went to supermarkets and convenience stores to buy instant food and sanitary napkins and other daily necessities. Only after filling the trunk and back seat to the brim did I finally feel at ease. On the way back to the city, the real estate agent called me, saying there was a house for sale nearby. It wasn’t large, and because it was old, the price was cheap. I stopped the car by the roadside and talked to the agent on the phone, roughly understanding the situation of the house. The owner of the house lived abroad permanently and had only recently thought of selling the house. The landlord was cheerful and said that if I decided to buy, I could move in first, and the transfer procedures could be completed after he returned to the country. After repeatedly thanking the landlord, I moved the supplies I had bought into the new house.

When I returned to the neighborhood after moving the supplies, Karen was sitting in the shade of a tree to cool off. The continuous high temperature made the rooms very stuffy, and Karen, being of a stingy nature, absolutely wouldn’t turn on the air conditioning. Karen glanced at me coldly, muttering to herself, “You little bitch, still wandering around in such hot weather, you’ll be cooked into an idiot sooner or later.” I didn’t respond to her. Seeing this, Karen immediately became smug, “Little bitch, you don’t dare to speak after being scolded a couple of times. You’ve clearly been educated into stupidity, not as smart as my son.” I stood still under my parasol, staring at her. Karen became a bit nervous, “Little bitch, what are you standing there like a stick for?” I took out my phone, pointed at the camera by the building, and said, “When I first moved in, I was worried about the security here, so I paid to install this camera. I’ve recorded all the videos of you cursing just now. You wouldn’t want this video to appear in the neighborhood group chat and your husband’s work group, would you?” Karen stood up at once, looking like a short, dumpy bread man. She angrily pointed at me for a while: “You… you…” I replied with a smile: “Pretending to stutter isn’t good.” Karen was so angry that she wanted to walk out of the shade to hit me, but her legs were numb from sitting for too long. She tripped over her own feet, losing balance and falling flat on her face. Her left cheek touched the ground directly, and the scorching ground immediately blistered her skin. She tried to support herself up with her hands, grimacing, but her arm strength was simply not enough to support her body. The parts of her palms and arms that touched the ground quickly turned red, and she instinctively cried out “Ouch, ouch!” Her “good” son heard the commotion upstairs and ran down in slippers. There was a small step at the entrance of the building, and he stumbled, falling right on top of Karen. I couldn’t help but gasp, “What a beautiful scene.” Karen was in too much pain to speak now. She tried to push her son away, but the weight of a 200-pound grown man was not something an old woman could move. I sighed, took my phone, and went upstairs. Half an hour later, the property management staff found Karen and her son, and it took a great effort to pull them up. I roughly understood from the intermittent cursing from downstairs. — Karen’s son had fractured a bone, and the two of them had been baked into human jerky before someone came to rescue them.

Just as night fell, I heard someone frantically knocking on the door. I knew right away that it must be Karen’s family coming to make trouble. I bit into an ice pop and went to the door, looking through the peephole. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud when I saw two people wrapped up like mummies. Hearing my laughter, Karen angrily slapped her thigh. Probably because her eyesight was poor after the fall, she slapped her son’s freshly fractured leg. A high-pitched male soprano lit up the motion-sensor lights of the entire building. The man who had just returned from work looked helplessly at their farce, “Have you had enough? If you’ve had enough, hurry back home. Are you trying to make sure everyone at our company knows about your misdeeds?” Karen cried out, “What have we done? It’s clearly this little bitch who’s shameless! She’s the one who cursed us for no reason! You heartless man, instead of standing up for us, you’re helping outsiders!” The man angrily slapped Karen’s arm, “The property management has already told me everything. You were clearly the one who cursed her first! I’m still trying to get ahead in the company, hurry up and get downstairs.” The man cursed as he led Karen downstairs, the son hopping alone behind them. Looking at the state of their family, the anger in my heart subsided a bit. The acid rain was coming soon, and I needed to move out in the shortest time possible.

In the following days, I went out early every day to purchase living supplies, and packed my luggage late at night, completely reversing my schedule with others. Looking at the refreshed old house, I breathed a sigh of relief. The north-facing bedroom had been converted into a storage room, filled to the brim with various necessities. In my spare time, I prepared power banks and books, and downloaded many songs, variety shows, and web dramas onto a hard drive. After all, I didn’t know how long the high temperature weather would last, and I needed to find something to do. With everything prepared, I started to casually hint to nearby neighbors that my work was being transferred and I would soon be living in a new city. These days, the temperature seemed to be dropping slightly, and I knew that the acid rain was coming. Finally, on the day before the acid rain came, I loaded the remaining items into the car, ready to bid farewell to this place for good. Karen was still sitting in the shade of the tree, eyeing me sideways. The burns on her face hadn’t healed properly, making her look particularly comical: “What? Finally going to get lost?” I said, “Yes, you’ll never see me again.” Sitting on the sofa in my new home, a light rain started to fall. The rain had finally come.

Through the rain curtain, I could see a transparent barrier rising around the neighborhood I used to live in, extending from the ground all the way up into the cloud layer. The leaves quickly turned yellow and fell off under the rain’s wash. As raindrops hit the cement ground, a strange white smoke rose. The internet was in an uproar, and the local police department quickly issued several announcements. “Due to the current abnormal weather, please stay quietly at home and wait for further notice. Do not go out! Do not go out! Do not go out!” Karen quickly commented under the announcement: “You tell me not to go out and I won’t go out? My family’s living expenses depend on my husband going to work! You heartless police, just trying to avoid responsibility by troubling the citizens!” The police department ignored her and continued to post messages calling for people to stay indoors. Seeing no one responding to her, Karen became even more agitated: “I’m going out anyway, it’s so cool outside in the rain!” The police department finally got annoyed: “Dear netizen, it’s acid rain outside. For your own safety, please stay at home.” Karen continued to bombard with comments: “You say it’s acid rain and it’s acid rain? I’m going out anyway! I’m going to start a live stream, I’ll fight it out with those bastards at the police department today!” With that, Karen posted a live stream link to the neighborhood group chat. I switched to a small account and clicked into the live stream. There were already dozens of viewers in the stream, and looking at the nicknames, they were mostly residents of the neighborhood. Karen went downstairs holding her phone, not even bothering with an umbrella. “Hello everyone in the live stream, I’m going out in the rain now. Why won’t the police let us go out!”

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I supported my girlfriend through college, but she used my credit card to “support” a poor student at her school. Later, I canceled her card. She came to confront me: “You think you’re so great just because you have a few bucks? I don’t need your money.” If you don’t need it, why don’t you give the card back to me? My girlfriend, Sarah, sent me a message asking: “Baby, can you increase my living expenses a bit more?” I found it strange. Sarah wasn’t the type to spend money recklessly. In the past, if I tried to give her money, she would scold me for insulting her with money. But I didn’t think too much about it. Maybe the school needed to buy something? I immediately doubled her living expenses and told her to let me know if she needed money. Sarah received it and sent a “kiss” emoji, then disappeared. That strange feeling came over me again. Lately, my girlfriend only contacted me for money and never chatted about anything else. I thought maybe I had been neglecting her because of my busy work schedule, so I planned to surprise her at her school tomorrow. But I never expected the surprise to turn into a shock. Previously, Sarah had said she didn’t want her roommates to know she had a boyfriend who didn’t go to college but had money, or else they would spread rumors that she was being kept by someone. So whenever I visited her at school, I went as her brother. When I was about to reach her dormitory building, I saw her hugging a male student and walking away, laughing. I felt an icy coldness in my heart. I immediately sent Sarah a message asking what she was doing now. Sarah quickly replied: “Studying in the library.” Looking at the couple walking out of the school gate in front of me, my heart sank to the bottom.

I had seen this man before. During the summer vacation, Sarah and I went to Hawaii together. She went to the bathroom to apply sunscreen, and I waited outside. Her phone, left on the bed, lit up, and I saw that she had changed her lock screen photo to a picture of a guy. At the time, I didn’t pay much attention because she liked to follow celebrities, and they were all this type of guy, so I thought it was just another minor celebrity. Now it seems they were already involved at that time, and she was bold enough to change her screen lock. I also saw that guy sending her a message saying he didn’t have enough money. When I asked Sarah what wasn’t enough money, she was very calm and said that the school was holding a competition and didn’t have enough funds. She was the student council president, so she was in charge of the money. Later, she dragged me out to go swimming, and I forgot about it when we got back. My feelings were really complicated. Sarah and I had been together since high school. Back then, she was often bullied because people said her family was poor. I couldn’t stand it and stood up for her once. From then on, Sarah followed me every day, and slowly we got together. I didn’t get into college and went back to inherit the family business. She did very well in her exams, so I supported her through college. In high school, she was such a timid girl. How could she change so much in just three short years? I called her again that night, but no one answered. Very late, almost eleven o’clock, she finally sent me a message saying she had just returned to her dorm from the library. She also said she would come to see me tomorrow and had a gift for me, telling me to look forward to it. I really wanted to see what kind of trick she was going to pull.

I couldn’t sleep that night. I remembered that my friend’s new girlfriend was also from that school, so I asked him to help me find out about that guy. My friend, hearing about my situation, felt very sympathetic and sent me a lot of information within half an hour. That guy was known as a handsome “grass-roots” guy at school. He was good-looking but poor, and also a scholarship student. He was also in the student council and was very close to my girlfriend. People at school assumed they were a couple. The guy had pretty good grades at school and won the Inspirational Scholarship every year. Last year, he even became the school’s campus ambassador. However, this guy also had some bad reviews. Most of the girls who had dated him said he was quite a jerk, always asking the girl for money. If the girl said she had no money, he would immediately use cold violence to force a breakup, then seamlessly move on to the next one. Another point was that this guy loved playing games, and probably spent most of his money on games. As luck would have it, I had a very high rank in the game he played. I asked my friend if he had the guy’s contact information. My friend immediately sent a string of numbers. I searched and felt the avatar was familiar, like I had seen it in a game group I had joined. I went back to the main page and searched, and we were indeed in the same game group. He was quite active there. I thought for a moment, created a small account to join the group, posted a screenshot of my game rank, @ed him asking if he wanted to play together, then casually added him as a game friend and went to sleep.

When I woke up the next day, that guy had indeed accepted my friend request and asked if the game screenshot I posted in the group was my own. I said, “If you don’t believe me, why don’t I carry you for a couple of games?” While my girlfriend hadn’t arrived yet, I played games with him for an hour. After seeing me get MVP in every game, he treated me like his own brother. I looked at the time and remembered that my girlfriend would usually arrive at my place around this time, so I told the guy we’d play again next time. He replied, “Sure thing.” A moment later, my girlfriend also sent me a message saying she was at my doorstep. I went to open the door for her and felt a bit strange seeing her dressed up like a rich lady. In the past, if I bought her a dress, she would scold me for wasting money. Seeing me in a daze, my girlfriend playfully hit me. “What are you thinking about? Let me in.” I turned and walked back, and she called out from behind me, “Hey, why aren’t you helping me change my shoes?” I ignored her and walked straight to the sofa to lie down. My girlfriend changed her shoes herself and complained while carrying bags of things. “You’ve changed. You don’t care about me anymore.” I glanced at her and forced a smile. My girlfriend might have noticed my low mood and didn’t want to be too enthusiastic. She got angry with me. “What are you doing? I said I’d come to see you today, and you’re giving me the cold shoulder.” “You don’t deserve the gift I prepared for you.” At the mention of a gift, I became a bit interested. In our three years of dating, she had only bought me something once or twice, and that was when she needed something from me. The first time was when she bought me a lighter, then said her brother had gotten into a fight and was in jail, asking if I could help bail him out. The second time was when she bought me a tie, saying her parents wanted to help her brother with a down payment for a house, asking if I could help a bit. She said she would definitely pay me back and even insisted on writing an IOU. This time, was it her brother in trouble again?

Seeing my expectant face, my girlfriend thought I was going to comfort her. She “hmph”-ed and ignored me. I flipped through her so-called gifts and opened a pair of Nike sneakers. But I already had this same model, and obviously, the size was two sizes smaller than mine. They didn’t look new, more like second-hand. Seeing me put the gift aside indifferently, my girlfriend immediately exploded. “What do you mean? You think you’re great because you have money? I know you look down on me. I’ll never buy you gifts again.” I sneered, “The size is wrong. Are you sure you bought it for me?” My girlfriend looked to the side guiltily and quickly put the shoes back in the bag. “Well, I bought the wrong size! Do you have to be angry with me about this? This is my heartfelt intention, something money can’t buy.” As if to end this topic, my girlfriend immediately picked up another bag. “Look, I made you sunny-side-up eggs!” I looked at the porridge. Wasn’t this the “love breakfast” that guy had posted on Instagram earlier? What, she couldn’t finish it so she brought it to me? I showed no interest and didn’t even look at it. “I don’t want to eat.” My girlfriend finally exploded, yelling at me for half an hour, saying I wasn’t like this before. I fell asleep listening to her nagging. When I woke up, my girlfriend was gone. My phone had also received a message from her: “I won’t forgive you.”

After that, my girlfriend never contacted me again, but she still used the joint account I had set up for her as usual. I turned off the joint account and canceled her card. Immediately, my girlfriend sent me a message: “You’re despicable.” What? I became despicable just because I stopped giving you money? I ignored her and continued working. After just three days, my girlfriend came to reconcile. I looked at my girlfriend standing miserably at my doorstep, seemingly with a handprint on her face. As soon as she saw me, she pitifully burrowed into my arms and said tearfully, “My parents are asking me for money again.” After crying for a while and seeing that I wasn’t saying anything, she added, “Can you help me?” I thought for a moment, pulled her out of my arms, and said seriously: “It’s not that I don’t want to help you. My company is having financial difficulties recently. Why don’t you pay back the money I lent you before to help me out?” My girlfriend immediately stopped crying and stammered, “Where would I get money from?” “I give you so much money every month, you haven’t saved any?” My girlfriend changed the subject, saying there were many places at school that needed money. I could only shake my head regretfully. “Then there’s nothing I can do. I’m out of money too.” Hearing that I had no money, my girlfriend widened her eyes and asked how that was possible. I didn’t say anything, and my girlfriend came to nuzzle me, crying, though there seemed to be few tears on her face. “Please help me. If you don’t help me, my parents will come to the school. Then the whole school will know my family is poor.” Didn’t my girlfriend used to say in front of me that although she was materially poor, she was spiritually rich? Who possessed her now? I still didn’t agree, and my girlfriend probably didn’t believe I really had no money. She fell asleep crying on my sofa, feeling secure. At this time, her phone left on the table lit up. Looking at my girlfriend sleeping soundly, I opened her phone and saw her chat history with that guy. There’s only one word to describe it. Sugar mommy. What? I thought you were just cheating with someone else, I didn’t expect you to be playing sugar mommy. Using the money I gave you to be a sugar mommy to a junior, you’re really playing it big. That guy seemed quite good at flirting, sending abs photos and private photos frequently. My girlfriend didn’t look like the poor little white flower she pretended to be in front of me; in front of this guy, she was clearly a rich and beautiful sugar mommy. I looked and saw that my girlfriend had gotten together with him a month ago, and had transferred at least 100,000 to him back and forth. My girlfriend was particularly proud, saying she had an uneducated rich boyfriend who was a big fool. That guy praised my girlfriend for being so charming, reminding her to ask me for more money. So I was just a part of your play? If before I was just going to punish my girlfriend a little, now I was really heartbroken. Three years of feelings in her eyes were just being a big fool. Not going to college in her eyes meant I was uneducated and not worthy of her. Even feeding a dog for three years wouldn’t bite people like this. Since you’re not being kind, don’t blame me for being unkind.

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My mom wanted to marry me off to Lachlan Walker, the town’s simpleton, for money. I resisted with all my might and jumped into the deepest lake in the village. Lachlan lost his life trying to save me. I survived, only to be despised by everyone in the village. My brother died in a fight because he couldn’t afford school, my mom went crazy, and my dad threatened to beat me to death. In the end, I jumped into that lake again. When I woke up, I had been reborn to the day Lachlan came to my house to propose. Lachlan Walker was simple-minded but the best-looking man in town. His family had moved here five years ago, supposedly because a fortune teller said that if they lived in this town for six years, Lachlan would escape disaster and might even regain his senses. I learned all this in my past life when the whole village cursed me after Lachlan’s death. The Walker family had made significant contributions to the village and were highly respected in town. Now, Lachlan wasn’t dead yet, and I hadn’t become the village pariah. Lachlan walked through our broken doorway, a chicken in his left hand and a fish in his right. “Brynn, wife, for you!” he said. My mom took the items from Lachlan’s hands, grinning from ear to ear, and urged me to go for a walk with him. I had just woken up from my rebirth, my head spinning and memories jumbled. Before I could say anything, Lachlan grabbed my hand and pulled me outside. “Lachlan, be gentle!” I said. Hearing the anger in my voice, Lachlan apologized, “Sorry, wife!” Even though I had been reborn, even though Lachlan had saved me in my past life, I still rolled my eyes at him in disgust. “Who’s your wife?” Lachlan let go of me and started gesticulating wildly. “Brynn! Brynn! Wife!” My mom pushed me again, threatening me in a low voice, “The money for your brother’s wedding and your younger brother’s school fees all depend on you. Behave yourself, or I’ll beat you!” I shuddered. Worse than death was the beating and cursing from my whole family. Whenever I disobeyed, my dad would whip me with his belt, my mom would hit me with her slippers, my older brother would tie me up, and my younger brother would prick me with needles. In my past life, fearing to jump from one fire into another, I had jumped into the lake on the day Lachlan came.

Lachlan jumped up and down, shouting, “Brynn! Let’s go! Buy!” He pulled out some money from his pocket and waved it in front of me. I had barely gone to school, not even finishing elementary. I had never left the village and had only seen ten or twenty-dollar bills. I had never seen what a hundred-dollar bill looked like. Now Lachlan was holding hundred-dollar bills, saying he wanted to buy me things. It felt like a dream. My mom pushed Lachlan towards me, smiling, “Go on! Look how much Lachlan likes you!” Lachlan took my hand, and this time, I didn’t refuse. As we walked through the village, eyes were everywhere – curious, probing, and mostly mocking. “Only Rosemary would be willing to marry her daughter off to a simpleton like Lachlan Walker, and an outsider at that!” “Rosemary got two thousand dollars! She can pay for her eldest son’s wedding, send her youngest to school, and even fix up the house. What a great deal!” “Her dad’s always saying Brynn’s a money-losing proposition. Well, look at her now, earning big bucks for him! It’s just a shame for the poor girl, abused at home and now marrying a simpleton!” Rosemary was my mother’s name. What a beautiful name! Even with my limited education, I knew it was a pretty name, but my mother never bothered to give me one. The name Brynn, I had chosen for myself when I started elementary school. They only ever called me “Unlucky” or “Little bitch.”

Lachlan held my hand tightly and whispered in my ear, “Brynn, don’t be scared! I won’t bully you! I’ll take care of you!” Around us, people snickered, mocking the simpleton for wanting to take care of a wife. I looked at Lachlan, the words “I’ll take care of you” echoing in my ears. Even my parents, who had given birth to me, never bothered to take care of me. A few days after I was born, my mom got sick. The whole family clamored that I was a star of misfortune, bringing disaster to my mother as soon as I was born. They dumped me on my grandmother. My grandmother raised me for three years. I never spoke a word, and she called me unlucky, saying I couldn’t even talk. She sent me back. From then on, my life changed from occasionally going hungry to being hungry and beaten every day. “Brynn! Hot! Eat!” Lachlan pulled out a paper-wrapped package from his jacket. When he opened it, there was a steaming hot bread roll. I swallowed hard. At home, my youngest brother always ate first, then my older brother, then my parents, and finally me. By the time I finished washing clothes and doing chores, there was only a bit left at the bottom of the pot. I had never eaten anything hot, let alone a bread roll. “Really for me?” I asked, surprised and delighted, my stomach starting to growl. Lachlan nodded, pushing the bread towards my hands. “For Brynn, eat!” I took the bread and started eating, my mouth full, but still managing to give Lachlan a big smile. In my past life, on the day Lachlan came to my house, all I did was cry and run away. I never paid any attention to Lachlan. If I had eaten Lachlan’s bread in my past life, I might not have thought about jumping into the lake. Because the bread was so good! I had never eaten such delicious, warm bread before! I wanted to eat more in the future…

“Brynn Summers! What are you doing wandering around in the middle of the day?” Hearing this voice, I couldn’t help but tremble all over. I saw my older brother, Derek Summers, walking over. He immediately grabbed my arm, forcibly pulling me away from Lachlan. The remaining uneaten bread fell to the ground. Derek’s angry roar rang in my ears: “Oh! Not going home to do chores, but out here eating bread!” Derek stepped on the bread, crushing it to pieces, as if he wanted to crush my dreams along with it. “Brother…” I called out fearfully, “Mom told me to come out.” “Brynn Summers!” Derek continued to shout in my ear, his expression twisted, “Don’t think that just because you’re marrying a simpleton, you’ll be living the high life! Don’t forget, you’re my sister. You should always think of your family, got it?” Derek worked at the only distillery in town. Whenever his boss berated him at work, he would come back to beat and curse me, saying I was unlucky and that I had passed my bad luck to him since birth, causing him to have no money or status. But what did that have to do with me? I was just a child born with a mother but raised without one. “Don’t bully Brynn!” Lachlan pushed away Derek, who was grabbing me, and shielded me behind him, pointing at Derek’s nose and scolding, “You’re bad!” Derek raised his hand to hit Lachlan without a word. “Derek Summers! What are you doing?” “Derek, stop right now!” The town mayor and my mom came from different directions. Seeing this, Derek waved his hand, put on a smile, and said, “Good afternoon, Mayor! Mom, why are you out too? Haven’t you made lunch?” Usually, Derek would come home for lunch after work, and my mom would have food ready for him. If he went hungry, I would inevitably receive another beating.

“Derek Summers! If you want to beat your own sister, do it at home! Who do you think you are to hit Lachlan?” the mayor glared at Derek angrily. Lachlan was a frequent guest at the mayor’s house. From what my mom had said, he often gave money to the mayor. The roads in town were paved with that money, the school was built with it, and even the only distillery was constructed with those funds. Derek could beat me behind closed doors at home, but he couldn’t touch anyone from the Walker family in public. My mom looked at Derek, giving him a meaningful glance, completely ignoring me, showing no concern whatsoever. But I was used to it. “Mayor, he’s too much!” Lachlan pointed at Derek, then at me. “He hit Brynn! He’s bad!” The mayor nodded, “Yes, yes, Derek is bad.” He looked up at Derek, “Derek, why don’t you take your sister home? If you want to beat her, scold her, or teach her a lesson, do it at home!” I fearfully leaned closer to Lachlan. Derek must have been upset at work, and now, not having eaten lunch, he would definitely beat me when we got home. Lachlan protected me, “Don’t be afraid! Brynn! Come to my house!” Derek shouted, “You’re not even married yet! How can that be? Brynn’s coming home with me!” My mom reached out to grab me, “That’s right, Lachlan. You’re not married yet! This won’t do. Once your family sends the money, I’ll give Brynn to you right away!” My heart sank. So my mom hadn’t received the two thousand dollars yet! I couldn’t go with Lachlan! Knowing my mom’s nature, she wouldn’t let me go without getting the money. “Lachlan…” I looked at Lachlan longingly, really wanting another bite of that warm bread. The mayor spoke up, “Lachlan, go home and tell your parents that getting married costs money. There needs to be a wedding feast! Only then can Brynn become your wife and go home with you, understand?”

“I understand! I’ll marry Brynn! I’ll go get money!” I watched as Lachlan was convinced by their few words. I quickly grabbed him, “I have a couple of words I want to say to Lachlan in private!” The mayor looked at my mom, my mom looked at me, and I anxiously waited. “Brynn, speak! I’m listening.” Lachlan leaned his ear closer. I glanced at my mom and my older brother, finally getting my mom’s permission. I knew that even if I married Lachlan, they wouldn’t let me go. So, I whispered something in Lachlan’s ear. Lachlan nodded vigorously, looked at me once, and ran off. Then I was dragged home by Derek, my toes barely touching the ground as he gripped the back of my collar. Derek still beat me. This time he only hit places that others couldn’t see, then threw me into the cellar. This was a place I often stayed. Now, apart from a few dry sweet potatoes, there was nothing else, just darkness and dampness. “Mom, how could you marry her off for just two thousand dollars? It costs me eight thousand eight hundred to get a wife!” Derek’s voice came from above the cellar. “Eight thousand eight hundred could get you two wives! Red from the front village, her mom told me it would only cost four thousand eight hundred. Once the money’s there, she’ll be yours right away!” Ruby? Ruby was two years younger than me, only sixteen this year! Derek was already twenty-five after the New Year! Besides, Ruby said she wanted to go work in the city, to see a broader world, not to get married and stay here for life! When Ruby said this, there was a light in her eyes. I envied her fiercely, thinking how great it would be if I could go work in the city too, and escape my family! “Ruby? Ruby’s great! Ruby’s figure is so slim! Mom, let’s get Ruby! Hurry and bring Ruby over!” Derek exclaimed excitedly. “What’s the rush? Wait until Lachlan brings the betrothal gift, then I’ll bring Ruby back for you. These couple of days, don’t beat that dead girl too much, don’t cause any more trouble…” Their voices grew fainter, and I couldn’t hear anymore. In my past life, I didn’t marry Lachlan, my mom didn’t get the money, and Derek didn’t get a wife. But now I could barely save myself, how could I save Ruby? Did I have to die again?

I was starved for two days and two nights. I thought I was about to die when Lachlan came with two thousand dollars, bringing his dad and the mayor to marry me. Mr. Walker held two pieces of paper in his hand. Seeing how weak I looked, he angrily put the papers on the table, insisting that everyone in my family sign and put their fingerprints on them. My mom couldn’t read, so she handed the papers on the table to my older brother and asked the mayor, “What does this mean?” The mayor said, “Mr. Walker means that you’re marrying your daughter to his son. They’ll give you two thousand dollars, and from now on, your daughter will be part of their family, with no more connection to you.” My mom wasn’t happy about this: “Why? I gave birth to her and raised her! This is like selling my daughter!” My older brother looked at the black and white text, then pulled my mom aside to discuss. My dad was a true farmer, working in the fields all day. My younger brother had just started elementary school and needed money for many things, so our family had almost no savings left. That’s why my brother hadn’t been able to get married for so many years. My brother was determined to get Lachlan’s money. “I’ve discussed it with my mom. We’ll give this dead girl to you, no problem! But two thousand dollars is definitely not enough!” My brother held up one hand to Mr. Walker, “It has to be this much! Otherwise, no one’s taking her away!” Five thousand dollars? My brother had gone crazy for money! Five thousand dollars was enough for our family to live on for several years!

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294708”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #重生Reborn #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring #浪漫Romance #玄幻Fantsy #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic #校园School #擦边Steamy

Grandma Lily, at the ripe age of 70, had fallen head over heels into an online romance. She was sending mushy messages on SnapChat and even spent $1,000 on her young “boyfriend” to boost his online business performance. No one could talk her out of it. Aunt Sarah pointed her finger at Grandma and scolded, “At your age, have you no shame? You’re embarrassing us all!” But I stood firmly by Grandma’s side. After all, I was the one behind her online romance. Grandpa had left behind an inheritance of $100,000. On his deathbed, he explicitly stated that after Grandma passed away, all the money should go to his grandsons. Aunt Sarah puffed up like a peacock, proud as can be, since she had two sons. Aunt Jessica chimed in, not to be outdone, “I have a son too.” As the granddaughter, I naturally wouldn’t see a penny of it. Mom was furious. For years, our family had been the ones taking care of Grandpa and Grandma. Even when Grandpa fell ill, it was my parents who footed the medical bills. Grandpa believed that since I was a girl, I’d eventually marry and leave the family, so there was no need to leave me any inheritance. Uncle Robert and Uncle Michael’s families only visited Grandpa and Grandma once a year during New Year’s, yet Grandpa welcomed them with open arms. He’d say that Aunt Sarah and Aunt Jessica were the family’s greatest contributors for giving birth to sons. Every time he said this, Mom’s head would droop so low it almost touched the ground. She felt guilty for not giving Dad a son. That’s why she bent over backward to care for Grandpa and Grandma. During family gatherings, Mom was always the one running around, taking care of everything. But no matter what, I was still Grandpa’s granddaughter. His decision truly angered Mom. Dad, being the soft-spoken person he was, didn’t say much. Grandma had lived her entire life under Grandpa’s thumb, treating his words as gospel. I was raised by Grandma. She always doted on me, taking me to school, buying me clothes and treats. But under Grandpa’s influence, she still agreed to follow his wishes. When my parents ran out of money paying for Grandpa’s medical bills, Mom asked Grandma to borrow money for my college tuition. Grandma, who usually spoiled me, hesitated and refused: “Your grandpa said the inheritance is for his grandsons.” “Girls will eventually marry into other families anyway.” “Your grandpa is the head of the family. I have to listen to him.” Even though Grandma usually treated me well, there was no room for negotiation on this matter. Aunt Sarah approached Grandma, sucking up to her: “Mom, look at Ryan. He’s about to get married and really needs the money. We have two sons, so we should get more of the inheritance, right?” Aunt Jessica wasn’t about to back down either. “Dad said it’s for the boys, but he didn’t say your two sons should get more.” “When it comes to giving out New Year’s money, Dad always gives my son Jason $100, while your two sons only get $100 combined.” Grandma got angry and slammed her bowl on the table with a loud “bang”: “Your father said to divide it after I’m dead. I’m not dead yet, and you’re already planning to split the inheritance?” They apologized, saying “How could we think that?” But in their hearts, they knew exactly what they were doing. How much money could an old lady from a small town spend? Whatever was left would be theirs, right? Back in our room, Mom looked dejected: “I told your dad we should set aside money for your college, but he wouldn’t listen. He insisted your grandpa would remember how good we’ve been to them.” At this point, Mom was getting angry. She scoffed: “Don’t come to me if any of you Johnsons need anything in the future.” “Bella is my precious daughter. From now on, all the money I earn is for Bella.” Dad knew he was in the wrong and didn’t dare say a word.

After Grandpa passed away, I noticed Grandma had changed. Especially these past few days, she’d been acting mysteriously. She used to go for a walk after dinner without fail. But lately, she’d rush back to her room right after eating and stay cooped up for hours. It was as if she had some treasure to guard in her room. She seemed unusually excited, her eyes sparkling like a young girl in love. I quietly snuck to her window and peeked inside. Grandma was grinning at her phone. It was a phone I bought her last year and taught her how to use SnapChat on. Could it be that she was hooked on TikTok? As I was thinking this, Grandma called out to me, asking for help with her phone: “Bella, can you take a look at Grandma’s phone? It’s not working.” “It’s frozen.” I took the phone and examined it. There were too many junk apps, and those malicious ads wouldn’t close. I tinkered with it for a while and discovered it was full of bloatware. “Grandma, I’ll fix it and bring it back to you in a bit.” Grandma seemed a bit uneasy and urged me to fix it quickly. I readily agreed. The phone didn’t have any major issues. After deleting the junk apps and downloading some antivirus software, it would be fine. The phone’s storage was limited, so I cleared out a lot for her. She was following many marketing accounts on Instagram, and I was about to unfollow them when I suddenly saw some explicit messages Grandma had sent, making me blush. “You’re my little sweetheart. Chatting with you every day is the happiest thing in my life.” “I love you too. You’re the most heart-fluttering treasure in my life.” “I want to meet you in person!” … There were also long voice messages after that. In my mind, Grandma had always been frugal and proper, always following Grandpa’s words. I couldn’t imagine such mushy words coming out of Grandma’s mouth. This kind of account was clearly designed to scam elderly people. They’d send messages like “Sister, I miss you so much” every day. But Grandma thought she had found her soulmate and was chatting enthusiastically. A thought suddenly popped into my head. I could pretend to be Grandma’s online romance. Grandma would get the emotional connection she craved, and I’d get money. It was a win-win situation. “Mom, I’ve got my tuition covered,” I said to myself.

I created a new SnapChat account with the nickname “Ray.” The friend request was accepted immediately. Grandma didn’t understand: “Ray, why are you messaging me from a different account?” I replied: “I created this new account just for you. You’re the only contact on it.” Grandma responded with a shy emoji, like an 18-year-old girl. Over the next few days, we chatted passionately. Grandma was slow with typing, and Uncle Robert accidentally saw her messages. These past few days, the competition between Uncle Robert and Uncle Michael had reached a fever pitch. Uncle Michael’s family had been secretly trying to curry favor, and Uncle Robert was afraid Grandma would give all the inheritance to the second son’s family. So he’d been visiting more frequently lately. He sat by Grandma’s bed, cracking sunflower seeds and making a mess on the floor. At one point, he accidentally glimpsed Grandma’s SnapChat. The chat window was still open on the message: “I love you too, you’re my sweetheart.” He jumped up, his face flushing with anger. He snatched the phone and scrolled through the chat history, feeling like his world view had been shattered: “Mom, how could you do something to betray Dad?” “At your age, aren’t you ashamed?” Hearing Uncle Robert’s roar, the others finally learned that Grandma had started an online romance. Dad stood in the corner, quietly defending Grandma: “It’s good for Mom to have someone to talk to and keep her company.” Recently, Mom had a change of heart. She went on strike, refusing to cook or take care of the family. Instead, she spent her days gardening, buying clothes, and pampering herself. She wasn’t as attentive to Grandma as before. Grandma had no one to talk to every day and could only talk to herself. I completely understood Mom. Although Grandma raised me, there was no reason for Mom to fulfill the obligation of caring for her on behalf of Dad and me. Uncle Robert wouldn’t let it go. He insisted on knowing who the old man on the other end was. Grandma was both embarrassed and angry, pointing at Uncle Robert but unable to speak for a while. It wasn’t clear if she felt ashamed that her son knew about her private matters or if she was angry that Uncle Robert didn’t understand her. “What law am I breaking? Your father is gone, and I can’t even find someone to talk to?” Aunt Sarah and Aunt Jessica chuckled softly, as if they were watching Grandma make a fool of herself. Grandma suggested that the children take turns staying at home to keep her company, and she would stop the online romance. But no one agreed. Uncle Robert said he was busy with work, and Uncle Michael said he had to take care of his kids. Aunt Sarah tried to smooth things over, saying that since Grandma was only having an online romance and hadn’t done anything illegal, they should just let the old lady be. Seeing someone offering a way out, Uncle Robert stopped talking, his face still sour. Everyone tacitly agreed to this arrangement.

I watched coldly as they put on their act. I wasn’t going to stop at just an online romance. I needed to make money too. With my college tuition on my mind, I felt the time was right to start asking Grandma for money in Ray’s name. I asked for money without any guilt. My parents had taken care of Grandpa and Grandma in their old age, paid for their medical bills, but Grandpa wouldn’t spare a penny. I hated this behavior, but unfortunately, Grandpa was already dead. I could only try to get back my parents’ hard-earned money from Grandma. I sent Grandma a message on SnapChat: “Darling, Ray can’t chat with you every day anymore. I’m out of money and need to go find work.” Grandma immediately became anxious: “At your age, where can you go to work?” Then she transferred $200. “Take this money and buy some groceries.” I quickly accepted the money. “Thank you, darling. Now I don’t have to work for a month and can spend time with you.” Seeing the sudden $200 in my SnapChat account, I rolled on the bed laughing. Who knew a few caring words could be worth so much to Grandma? I called out to Grandma, who was fanning herself outside: “Grandma, do you want some bubble tea?” It was a hot summer day, and I rode my bike home with two iced bubble teas. Grandma clumsily inserted the straw and took a sip. Her eyes immediately lit up: “This stuff is really good!” She took several more big sips as she spoke. “Bella, this bubble tea is so delicious. Is it expensive?” I rolled my eyes and said: “Very expensive! Over $10 a cup!” Grandma’s eyes widened. She looked at the fancy cup in her hand, seemingly unable to believe it could be so expensive. But after a while, she nodded and pulled out $50 from her pocket: “Expensive things do taste better. Bella, Grandma will give you money. Next time, bring Grandma another cup.” I happily went back to my room. Within two minutes, Ray’s SnapChat received another $20: “Ray, bubble tea is delicious. Go get yourself a cup too.” Over the next few days, I made money hand over fist just by chatting with Grandma. It didn’t take long before I had saved up enough for my tuition. “Darling, at this age, you should be good to yourself. Let the younger generation worry about themselves.” “Why should my treasure sacrifice for a big family?” “At this age, it’s time to enjoy what your children can give back.” I didn’t expect Grandma to accept new ideas so quickly. As soon as I said it, she understood and even thanked me for making her see things clearly.

Uncle Robert and Uncle Michael’s families had been visiting more frequently lately. In the past, they only came back twice a year, claiming they were busy with work and had to take care of their children. Now, Uncle Robert came home once a week, bringing Grandma milk, fruits, and supplements. Uncle Michael sent Aunt Jessica over to care for Grandma, accompanying her shopping and exercising. They were competing to see who could be more filial. In the past, Grandma used to eat and live at our house for free. After Mom stopped taking care of her, the task of cooking for Grandma fell to them. They were shrewd. When they went out to buy vegetables, they would ask Grandma for money. Uncle Robert bought a box of apples online, and when he was about to pay using Grandma’s SnapChat, he exploded: “Mom, you had $2,000 in your account for pocket money last month. How come there’s less than $1,000 now?” Uncle Robert kept a close eye on Grandma’s bank card and the money in her phone. Not a single change escaped his notice. Grandma’s online romance wasn’t a big problem, but an online romance that cost money was a major issue. Uncle Robert fumed, roaring in the house: “You won’t give money to your son, but you’ll go support a toyboy?” “They’re all scammers! Scammers!” Uncle Robert felt he was in the right, so he called everyone in the family for a meeting. Grandma used to revolve her life around her husband and children, but since Grandpa passed away, her behavior had shocked everyone. Uncle Robert’s face was ashen. This time, he was several levels angrier than before: “At your age, not only are you having a romance but also supporting a toyboy. If you’re not embarrassed, we are! And how can you face Dad?” Everyone sighed and shook their heads: “Mom, you used to be such a good person. How did you become like this?” Uncle Michael sat on a small stool, trying to reason with her: “Mom, we all work hard to earn money. It’s one thing if you spend it on yourself, but you can’t just give it away to strangers.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294706”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #重生Reborn #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring #浪漫Romance #玄幻Fantsy #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic #校园School #擦边Steamy

One day,I accidentally discovered that I could share sensations with my husband. Not only could I feel the pain from his injuries,but I could also experience the pleasure he felt when doing things he loved. Until one night,while he was live-streaming a skydiving event from the United States,I watched as he and his female partner soared together—and suddenly,I felt an indescribable surge of pleasure… My husband,Chase,is a thrill-seeker,especially passionate about skydiving. I,on the other hand,am a professional designer—one of us is always on the move,while the other is steady,and that’s how fate brought us together. Extreme sports often take place abroad,so Chase and I spend a lot of time apart. After one skydiving accident,Chase broke his leg,forcing him to come back to the States and stay in the hospital for a while. When I brought him some chicken noodle soup to the hospital,he was engrossed in watching a live stream. I leaned over to take a peek at his iPad screen,which read: “#The Inaugural National Paragliding Championship–Qualifiers in Progress.#” I sighed,“Babe,can we stop with these dangerous sports?” Chase loves skydiving and paragliding.He’s had dozens of metal pins put into his body because of it. He’s taken his hobby to an elite level,even competing in the Pro Circuit internationally. Startled by my presence,he still smiled cheekily and shook his head. “Lily,I know you worry about me,but this is what I live for.The thrill and excitement I get from these sports are like nothing else.” I gazed at Chase’s handsome face,momentarily lost in thought. Extreme sports are a rich man’s hobby,not something the average person can afford.And since he doesn’t need to work,Chase is clearly a trust fund baby. People envy me for marrying a rich and attractive man,but what they don’t see is how we can never be together all the time. Honestly,I envy his teammates more than anyone. I spooned some chicken noodle soup into Chase’s mouth,and he grinned happily. “My wife is amazing,the perfect woman who can run the house and cook!I risk my life outside,but I never have to worry about things at home.” I quickly shoved a piece of chicken into his mouth. “Stop talking about life and death,would you?” Since our marriage,Chase has been home very little.I’ve been the one taking care of everything for his family,handling all the domestic affairs. He coughed violently after choking on some soup,but still laughed mysteriously. “You’re worried about your husband,huh?Haha,I should give you a kid soon so you won’t miss me so much.” Just as we were joking around,a gorgeous woman knocked on the door and walked in,smiling as she took off her sunglasses. “Oops,didn’t mean to interrupt you two.” The moment I saw Sophie Lee,I froze.I had seen her in countless photos on Chase’s Instagram. Sophie was his long-time paragliding partner,an Asian-American,and they’d won many trophies together on the Pro Circuit. Even though she spent years outdoors,her skin was still smooth and glowing,with an enviable hourglass figure and long legs that would make anyone jealous. She was dressed provocatively,wearing a skimpy tank top that revealed a lot in this cool weather,completely unbothered by the chill. She waltzed in,playfully flicked Chase’s forehead,and lifted the blanket to inspect his injured leg. “What’s up with you?Can’t believe you managed to hurt yourself like this.” I was shocked because Chase was lying there with only his underwear on,and Sophie was acting like it was the most natural thing in the world. Noticing my discomfort,she laughed openly. “We’re the best partners on the field and practically siblings off it.Hope you don’t mind,Lily?” Chase quickly covered his leg. “She might not mind,but I do!Give me some privacy here,would you?” As they bantered back and forth,I couldn’t help but notice the sudden change under the blanket.Chase had clearly reacted to Sophie’s presence. Was I imagining it,or had my husband just…responded to her?

After Sophie left,the doctor came in to check on Chase’s leg. As the doctor adjusted his cast,I saw Chase wince in pain.But the next moment,I felt a sharp,stabbing pain in my own leg—right where his injury was. The pain was so intense,I collapsed onto the floor,leaving both Chase and the doctor startled. “Lily,what’s going on?My leg’s hurting,not yours!Why are you limping?” I quickly rolled up my pant leg to check,but there was nothing there—no injury at all. And after the doctor finished with Chase’s leg,the pain in mine vanished. Could I have…shared Chase’s sensation just now? Suspicious but uncertain,I shook my head. “It’s nothing.I’ve just been sleeping poorly lately,and seeing you in pain made me feel weak.” Chase squeezed my hand apologetically. “You’ve been so amazing,juggling work and looking after me.No wonder you’re worn out.” His caring words made me forget my doubts,and I tucked him in before heading off to work. The rest of the afternoon flew by in a blur of tasks,but on my way home,Chase called me. His voice was low and lazy,laced with a magnetic pull. “Babe,I’ve been thinking…Once I’m out of here,how about we finally start trying for a baby?” We’d been married for three years,but with Chase traveling constantly,we hadn’t had time to start a family.And every time he came home,our passion burned like wildfire. As a man with a strong physique and an intense desire for adventure,Chase had a lot of energy to burn in other areas,too. His tone was familiar,and I could guess where this conversation was headed.Sure enough,he wanted me to say his name.I blushed and scolded him. “Seriously?You’re still in the hospital!Stop messing around.” “Come on,it’s just me here.No one’s going to hear.” Chase was in a private,soundproofed VIP room,with the doctors and nurses far away on night shift duty. “Hurry up,babe.I can’t wait any longer.” Reluctantly,I turned on the video call and did what he asked. Just moments later,I heard something…suggestive on the other end.Mortified,I was about to hang up when suddenly,I felt a strange,electrifying sensation sweep through my body. Two minutes later,Chase finished. He stared at the flushed expression on my face over the video,grinning as he caught his breath. “Well,well,babe.Seems like you were feeling the same thing as me,huh?” My heart skipped a beat.Had I just shared his sensation again? Over the next few weeks,I gradually realized that whenever Chase experienced intense physical sensations,I could feel them too. Chase was always getting into scrapes overseas,and he rarely told me the truth.So,I kept this secret to myself,not wanting to worry him. Not long after his release from the hospital,Chase was back to his old ways.He booked a flight to California for the National Paragliding Championship. He told me that the thrill of conquering nature was the only thing that could truly satisfy him anymore.Money and material comforts just weren’t enough. I sighed and gave him a hard pinch at the airport. “Fine,but don’t come crying to me if you end up getting carried off a plane again.Be safe!” Chase laughed,pulling me in for a kiss. “Don’t worry,babe.I’m counting on you to give me good news when I get back.” My face heated at the thought.Before he left,Chase and I had been trying for a baby,and he had promised to quit extreme sports once we had one and settle down. Once I was sure his flight had landed in California,I called him on video chat. “Hey,did you guys make it there safely?” It was already dark here,but over there,the sun was still shining brightly. To my surprise,it was Sophie who answered.She was draped over Chase’s shoulder,laughing. “Don’t worry,Lily.I’ve got Chase under control.He won’t lose a hair on his head.” Seeing her so casually taking my place by his side,I suddenly felt a pang of discomfort. This time,they were competing as a pair in the doubles paragliding event,which would be live-streamed for everyone to watch. At 10:30 PM,I anxiously tuned in to the broadcast. When Chase’s turn finally came,I could feel how excited he was. My heart pounded in sync with his as they took off into the sky,their paragliders soaring over the lush green fields below. The camera zoomed in,capturing their faces as they flew.I could see the exhilaration in Chase and Sophie’s twisted expressions. I couldn’t help but think:Is this what extreme sports feel like? Suddenly,I felt a wave of indescribable pleasure wash over me,and I clenched my thighs in response.

The announcer was rambling on,describing how fully immersed the pair seemed in the experience. A chill ran down my spine.The sensation was unlike anything I’d felt before—something far more intense than usual. It felt like I was flying too,reaching a euphoric height beyond my imagination. But what shocked me the most was that Chase was supposed to be in the middle of the competition! How could he be feeling…this? After the rush passed,sweat beaded on my forehead.I stared at them intently,watching as they landed smoothly. They looked completely calm,clothes intact,and even chatted casually with a reporter. But I still couldn’t shake my confusion. Finally,during Sophie’s interview,her voice trembled ever so slightly,betraying something. “So,how was this flight experience for you?” “Oh,it was…just as thrilling as always.Really amazing.I have to thank my partner for making it unforgettable.” Her voice quivered with excitement as she spoke,though she tried to play it off. I called Chase to congratulate him on making it through the qualifiers. He laughed as usual,his voice full of confidence. “How about that?Your husband nailed it,didn’t he?This championship is mine.” I kept my questions to myself,not wanting to raise suspicion.After all,without solid proof,how could I accuse them of doing something like that in mid-air? That night,I couldn’t sleep at all. I scrolled through international news and stumbled upon an article about a couple caught getting intimate on a hot air balloon.The man got so carried away that he accidentally pushed the woman out,resulting in her death.The footage was captured by their own recording device,and the man was charged with manslaughter. The comment section was buzzing: “Talk about living on the edge!” “If I were that guy,I’d be bragging about this for life.” “She probably died happy,at least…” As I read through the comments,my suspicions grew.I tossed and turned,wondering if Chase,the man I’d been married to for three years,had really betrayed me. To understand just how far things could go in the world of extreme sports,I decided to fly to California and try paragliding for myself. When I arrived at their training base,Chase was visibly surprised. Feigning ignorance,I threw my arms around him. “Hey,babe!Did you miss me?I took some time off just to come see you.” Sophie was standing nearby,dressed in a tight black sports outfit that accentuated her figure. She gave Chase a teasing nudge with her elbow. “Chase,your little wife sure is attached.She crossed the ocean just to be here with you.” Chase didn’t seem particularly happy about my arrival.If anything,he looked slightly irritated that I had intruded into his world. “What are you doing here?If you don’t have any business,why don’t you head back to the Marina Heights Apartments and rest?Think of this as a vacation.” I shook my head and wrapped my arms around his neck. “No,I’m here for a reason.After watching your last match,I got so excited that I wanted to try paragliding myself.” Chase hesitated for a moment before realizing that I was dressed in a specially designed jumpsuit,ready to take flight. He grabbed my hand,his expression unreadable. “Lily,as a professional,I have to warn you—this sport is dangerous.It’s not something regular people should try lightly.” I shrugged off his concern. “Don’t worry.I’ve been watching your competition videos for years.Plus,there’s an instructor here,so what’s the harm?” “I’m really curious about what kind of view—and thrill—could keep you away from home for three whole years.” I truly wanted to know. So,I hired a well-built,handsome white instructor from the base,whose muscles were practically bursting through his T-shirt. The weather was perfect,with a gentle breeze and clear skies—the ideal conditions for flying. Chase sighed when he realized he couldn’t change my mind. “Alright,just be careful.People here are pretty open,you know.” I ignored him,as the instructor carefully strapped me into the gear and went over all the safety instructions. Then,he positioned himself behind me,wrapping his arms around me to control the direction. Finally,we caught a gust of wind and began running down the hill. “Little lady,we’re taking off now!” I didn’t even have time to register his words before I felt something hot press against my back.My mind went blank. Before I could react,the paraglider had already lifted off the ground,and we were soaring into the valley.

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David and Linda Thompson doted on their daughter Emily as if she were the center of their world, but due to an accidental pregnancy, they had a son, Ryan. To make it up to me, they sent me to Phillips Exeter Academy, dressed me in designer clothes, and handed me everything I ever wanted. Ryan, on the other hand, only got my hand-me-downs. Everyone said I was the “rose that bloomed in the projects.” But I dragged my parents to court. If the accusation of neglecting their daughter was proven true, the one caught lying would die instantly. Everyone thought I was crazy, but only I knew the truth: they never needed me. They were always just a family of three. This is a world where every citizen can participate in trials online and vote on the verdict. In the public courtroom, I stood in a moon-white dress, my lips painted bright red, while my parents and younger brother sat beside me in their plain clothes. The contrast couldn’t have been more stark. The live stream comments were relentless in their insults: “Look at the plaintiff, all dressed up! There’s no way she’s being abused!” “I feel so bad for her parents. They can’t even afford decent clothes, yet they put their daughter through college, and now she’s turning on them?” People who knew my parents saw them as obsessed with me. Their Facebook posts were filled with pictures of me, showing off their pride and joy. They scrimped and saved to send me to a prestigious school like Phillips Exeter, while Ryan only went to Jefferson High School. Everyone called me the rose that bloomed in the projects. After I got into Stanford, I even won a National Merit Scholarship in my first semester. Everything I had was because of my parents. But according to the Supreme Constitutional Law, everyone is born equal. If a child suffers severe unfair treatment, they have the right to sue their family. If my claim turned out to be false, I would die instantly, and my organs would be donated. But if the gender bias was proven true, Ryan would die, and my parents would suffer endless misfortune. When they found out I was suing them, their faces were filled with shock. My father, David, furrowed his brow. “Emily, come back to us. There must be a misunderstanding, let’s talk this through. Don’t do anything extreme.” My mother, Linda, broke down crying. “Is it because your college expenses aren’t enough? I’ll find a way to earn more. Please, don’t risk your life! You’re the most important child we have!” The live stream audience started to feel sorry for them. “Oh man, I can’t handle seeing a mom cry. Can we just wrap this up and take down this ungrateful brat?” “I always knew spoiling girls would lead to trouble. This proves it!” I turned my head away, coldly, disgusted by the fake mask they wore. But it wouldn’t last long. “Judge, please proceed,” I said. Seeing that I insisted on going through with the trial, both of my parents’ faces flashed with unease. Suddenly, the mechanical voice of the judge silenced the crowd. “This trial will proceed by extracting six memory segments from both the plaintiff and the defendants at different stages of their lives. The jury will observe these memories from a third-person perspective and vote to determine guilt.”

The trial officially began. The first memory was projected onto the screen. It was the scene when Ryan was just born. My mom, Linda, still looked weak, while my dad, David, anxiously spoke to visiting relatives: “We never planned on having a second child. We only wanted to focus on Emily.” “But Linda had an unexpected pregnancy. By the time we found out, it was too late to have an abortion, so we had to have him.” Ryan was a premature baby and was rushed to the NICU after birth. After they brought him home, my mom made a tough decision and handed Ryan over to Grandpa John and Grandma Susan to raise. They had to work to make ends meet, so they took me—who was already in preschool—with them, while Ryan stayed with my grandparents as an infant. Even though we moved around a lot, I was happy because I stayed close to my parents. Whenever I’d stretch out my arms and yell, “Mommy, pick me up!” Linda would smile and scoop me up, snapping picture after picture of me to show off to everyone. “My precious daughter is a gift from heaven!” she would say. The live stream comments started to blow up: “Wait, gender bias? I think it’s the other way around!” “Ryan got left behind as a baby! How sad is that?” “Exactly, what kid wouldn’t want to be with their parents? Ryan got the short end of the stick.” At that moment, my mom wiped her tears and raised her hand. The judge’s cold, mechanical voice came through: “The defendants request to submit evidence.” My mom, red-eyed, pulled out two photos. In one, I was smiling brightly in my parents’ arms. In the other, Ryan was alone, crying in the apartment where he lived with Grandpa John and Grandma Susan. “We always favored Emily,” she explained, “because we were afraid she’d feel hurt once Ryan came along. So we kept her close, while Ryan… well, even if he cried his heart out, we only visited him once a year.” “No matter what we had, Emily always got the best of it. Ryan only got the leftovers.” The audience became even more emotional: “Poor parents, trying their best. You can’t treat both kids exactly the same, right?” “I can’t believe she’s suing her parents after they sacrificed so much for her. Ungrateful!” As the comments raged on, the first vote came in, and without a doubt, the jury sided with my parents. Seeing they’d won the first round, my mom finally seemed to relax a little. “Emily, please, let’s stop this. We can still go back to the way things were,” she pleaded. “I’m willing to sign a settlement, I won’t hold it against you.” My mom looked at me with desperate eyes. Ryan chimed in urgently, “Sis, please stop this. Everyone knows you’re their favorite. If this trial keeps going, you’ll die! What’s going to happen to Mom and Dad then?” “Wow, I’ve never seen defendants plead like this! She could settle and walk away without facing any consequences!” But I stayed calm and cool, turning to the judge and saying, “Let’s continue.” Because the truth, the real truth, was yet to come.

The next memory was revealed. By the time I was ten, I had already started living at school during the week. That year, during the school’s Spring Play, I danced my heart out on stage. My parents had even taken time off work to watch me perform. When the show ended, I tripped on my long dress but still scrambled up, running toward them with a big, toothy grin, one of my front teeth missing. “Mommy, how did I do?” I asked. But my mom barely paid attention, distracted. “There were too many people on stage. Where were you standing again? I couldn’t tell.” The audience was stunned. “Wait, weren’t they just watching her and smiling? I thought they were really into it!” “Emily was the lead dancer in the front row! I’m nearly blind, and even I could tell it was her. What were her parents watching?” I noticed the brief flicker of discomfort on my parents’ faces, but they quickly recovered. The scene shifted to later that same day. I sat alone in the school cafeteria, eating a cold sandwich, watching as all the other kids were picked up by their parents. I quietly cried into my food. Meanwhile, my parents had taken Ryan to Six Flags to celebrate his seventh birthday. That same week, I scored a 99 on my exam. They barely acknowledged it, telling me to aim for 100. But when Ryan scored 60, they were overjoyed. “That’s my boy! Just a little more effort, and you’ll be doing great. Last time it was 40, and now you’ve jumped up 20 points!” David said proudly. Ryan grinned, puffing his chest. “It’s easy to improve by a few points, but jumping 20? That’s talent. I’ve got way more potential than Emily!” The live stream audience started to shift their tone. “Wow, what a ridiculous comparison. Anyone knows that going from 90 to 100 is much harder.” “And this dad? Praising his son by putting down his daughter? Seriously?” At this point, Ryan got flustered. “It was my birthday! I was just a little kid; of course, my parents wanted to make me happy!” Some people defended him, pointing out that since the parents weren’t around much, it made sense to spoil Ryan a bit on his birthday. Others had different thoughts: “But Emily’s a latchkey kid too!” “Ugh, seeing her cry in the corner breaks my heart.” When the jury voted, many agreed that gender bias existed, and this round went in my favor. The screen now showed a 1-1 tie, and I could see the tension return to my mom’s face. “Emily, your mom and I have always treated you and Ryan equally, but we’re only human. Sometimes it’s impossible to keep things perfectly balanced. Can you forgive us for those moments?” she said, her voice shaky. Her words sparked sympathy again from the viewers. “Yeah, I get it. My oldest always has to give in to the younger one, but I still try to be fair.” “Right, families with multiple kids have so many little conflicts—this doesn’t seem like abuse.” As the conversation quieted, the judge released the third memory segment.

I had already lost two rounds. According to the rule of needing four wins out of six, if I lost the next one, the trial could end in a tie or, worse, a loss for me. But the memory extractor was going in chronological order. We were getting close to the memories of my high school years. There was no way they could win these. My mom, Linda, was growing increasingly anxious, practically begging me now: “Emily, please, stop this! We can’t lose you.” But I just smiled and said, “Mom, didn’t you always say I was the one you loved the most? If that’s true, why are you so afraid of the truth? If you really treated me the same as Ryan, I won’t mind dying for it.” At that moment, the system judge’s cold, robotic voice rang out, asking me if I wanted to proceed with the trial. I nodded firmly, unable to wait any longer to rip away their masks. The parents I had depended on for so long had never truly cared about me. Those hidden scars, those painful truths buried for years, were finally about to be revealed. “Honestly, aside from the Six Flags birthday trip, all the memories show them favoring their daughter. Why is she still pushing this?” “Yeah, she seems pretty calm for someone who might die. Maybe there’s something deeper going on?” The fourth memory segment appeared on the big screen. I was sixteen at the time, having just finished my high school entrance exams. I had grown tall and graceful, my face still soft and innocent, like a newborn lamb. Because I had ranked first in the entire city, I made the local newspaper, and the media even came to interview my family. The reporter asked which school I wanted to attend. I smiled brightly. “I’ve worked so hard so I could get into the best high school, just to stay close to Mom and Dad.” From elementary school to middle school, I had been living on campus, away from home. I longed to spend my high school years living with my parents. Since they worked in the city, my only chance of staying with them was if I could get into Lincoln High School. But after receiving my scholarship and the spotlight faded, my parents enrolled me in Brighton Preparatory School—a private school far out of state. The school was so far away that I wouldn’t be able to come home even once a year. The smile on my face froze. My mom hugged me, crying with tears streaming down her face. “My darling, I don’t want to send you away either, but the teachers say you’re extraordinarily gifted. We can’t let ordinary education hold you back. You’ll get a much better education at Brighton.” Principal George Michaels, a seemingly kind and elderly man in his sixties, met us in his office. He eyed me with sharp scrutiny, saying he recognized my potential and promised to nurture it well. He also assured my parents that my tuition and living expenses would be fully covered. I don’t know what else he whispered to them in hushed voices. But in the end, my parents exchanged satisfied glances and left with smiles on their faces. “What the hell is this old man up to?” “Oh my god, someone stop him!” Suddenly, shocked comments poured into the live stream. Everyone saw what happened next—after my parents left, Principal Michaels closed the door to his office. Then, with a smile still on his face, he walked over to me, ignoring my cries, and reached under my skirt.

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I dolled myself up and went to the hospital to pick up my boyfriend after his shift. Unexpectedly, I discovered he wasn’t there. Before I could even leave the department, my phone buzzed with a SnapChat message: “Mom slipped and fell at home yesterday. I’ve taken a day off to check on her. I won’t be coming home tonight. Take care of yourself.” But hadn’t his mother just called me, excitedly sharing that she was on her way to go hiking? My sixth sense told me that he was hiding something significant. I opened Emily’s Instagram profile. Her latest post was from dinnertime. There were two photos attached. The first showed her foot in a protective boot. The second was the back view of a man busy in the kitchen. The familiar silhouette wore the same shirt I had bought for my boyfriend just last week while we were out shopping. I dolled myself up and headed to the hospital to pick up my boyfriend after his shift. As I approached the nurse’s station, one of the nurses playfully stopped me. “Rachel, didn’t you know Jason didn’t come to work today?” Jason and I worked in different departments at the same hospital. I was confused; he had left for work as usual this morning without any signs of something being amiss. Before I could even leave the department, my phone buzzed with a SnapChat message: “Mom slipped and fell at home yesterday. I’ve taken a day off to check on her. I won’t be coming home tonight. Take care of yourself.” But hadn’t Mrs. Sullivan just called me, excitedly sharing that she was on her way to go hiking? My sixth sense told me that he was hiding something significant.

The call connected just as it was about to go to voicemail. His voice was as warm as ever, perhaps even more tender as he called my name. “Rachel, did the message wake you? Mom fell yesterday, so I went home to check on her. I’ll be back soon.” I clenched my fist slightly. “I came to pick you up after your shift. I’m at the ward entrance.” “It’s my fault. I didn’t want to disturb your rest and ended up worrying you. How about I take you to that new dessert place downstairs when I get back?” The words caught in my throat. After a moment’s hesitation, I took a deep breath before speaking. “Did you know your mom caught an early flight this morning to go hiking out of town?” The other end of the line suddenly went quiet, the atmosphere tense. When he spoke again, even through the phone, I could sense that Jason’s tone had cooled. “You called my mom?” “She called me, complaining about how exhausting it was to catch an early flight.” He paused, his voice lowering, becoming a bit hesitant. Before he could explain further, I heard a faint exclamation from his end. He hurriedly said, “Let’s talk when I get back. Something’s come up. I’ve got to go.” The line went dead, and I returned home in a daze. Lying alone in bed, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander to dark places. My fingers brushed against a fluffy plush toy. A month ago, during a holiday, Jason had gone back alone to visit his grandmother. I had stayed home to work on my thesis. When Jason returned and was unpacking, he pulled out this limited edition 100th anniversary Disney Stitch plush. He said he remembered I liked it and had specially bought it for me through a reseller. In the six years we’d been together, my wish to visit Disneyland had always been postponed due to one thing or another. I buried my face in the plush toy’s belly, feeling an unbearable heaviness in my heart. I still hadn’t received any messages or calls from him. In the past, whenever we argued, he would act as if it were a major crisis, desperate to appear before me and apologize immediately. I began to wonder if love could fade.

After a hasty dinner, I composed myself and headed for my night shift. During a break, I received a message from one of the nurses. “Emily didn’t come to work either.” This seemingly random message prompted me to check Emily’s Instagram again. Her latest post was from dinnertime. There were two photos attached. The first showed her foot in a protective boot. The second was the back view of a man busy in the kitchen. The familiar silhouette wore the same shirt I had bought for Jason just last week while we were out shopping. The caption read: “Injured and can’t move around easily, but thankfully someone’s here to help out, even taking me to the hospital! (flower emoji)”

I first met Emily three months ago. That day, we crossed paths outside the operating room. Next to Jason was a petite girl with a cute face, her head lowered, looking both aggrieved and defiant. The exposed skin of her neck was snow-white. Jason was speaking to her with a hint of amusement in his voice. “How could you get into an argument with a patient’s family? If I hadn’t happened to come by, you, a young girl, could have been in trouble.” I looked at him. As if sensing my gaze, he raised his head and met my eyes. The girl tugged at Jason’s white coat, her eyes on me. “You must be Rachel. Everyone in the department knows Jason has a beautiful girlfriend.” She said this dramatically while tugging on Jason. “Jason, you’re so lucky.” “Rachel, let’s add each other on SnapChat. I like you already!” Seeing such a bubbly personality in this young girl, I smiled without saying anything, giving Jason a questioning look. “This is Emily, a new medical intern. She’s not from our school,” Jason introduced, while pulling his white coat back with a look of annoyance. “She’s always so hyper. Don’t mind her.” Out of courtesy, we ended up adding each other on SnapChat.

After Jason and I moved in together, apart from takeout and cafeteria food, I was the one who cooked. Jason didn’t like cooking and couldn’t make much beyond instant noodles. He rarely even entered the kitchen. My heart ached, throbbing painfully. It seemed the air around me had grown thin. It turns out, some things aren’t about ability, but about willingness. In third grade, I was sent to spend the summer at my grandmother’s house. Being a mischievous age, I quickly became close friends with the neighborhood kids. It was during this time that I met Jason. I couldn’t ride a bicycle and couldn’t keep up with the other kids. Jason volunteered to teach me, but I ended up crashing into him and knocking out one of his newly replaced permanent teeth – the right canine. His mouth was full of blood, but he still tried to comfort me as I wailed in fear. Our crying attracted the adults from both families. The doctor said that fortunately, there was still a tooth bud, so a new one would grow. He started crying, holding my hand, because he was afraid of looking ugly. With Mrs. Sullivan’s consolation, I compromised and promised to marry him when we grew up as compensation. After that, I spent most of my holidays at Jason’s house next door.

I sent Jason a message, mentioning a breakup. Soon after, the screen lit up. “Rachel, don’t be silly. There’s really nothing going on between Emily and me. Let me explain when I get back.” He didn’t even call. In the past, what I loved most about Jason was the sense of security he gave me. He was gentle and emotionally stable. He would always be concerned about my feelings. In the second semester of our freshman year, after a club activity dinner, a senior girl finished a bottle of beer and turned red from her ears to her neck, as if her entire head was radiating heat. She stammered out a confession to Jason. The video of the confession was shared in the group chat. Less than half an hour later, Jason appeared at the entrance of my dormitory building, out of breath and flushed. I looked at him, puzzled. He held my hand, his palm burning hot, his voice trembling slightly. “I didn’t accept her confession. I didn’t know she liked me.” “I saw the message in the group chat and couldn’t help but worry.” “I… I was afraid you might misunderstand my relationship with her.” His tone was urgent, his words jumbled. The burning intensity in his eyes, illuminated by the streetlights, melted into my heart. After saying this, Jason gently rested his head on my shoulder. “Rachel, I feel dizzy.” Later, he was still carried to the emergency room by a passing senior student for an IV drip. He already had a high fever of over 102°F, and the run had only worsened his condition. After he recovered, we officially got together. It was him who pursued me so passionately back then, and now it was also him who hurt me. I slumped exhaustedly into the chair in the on-call room. Opening my phone again, I saw that Emily had sent me a SnapChat message. “I’m sorry, Rachel. Jason and I will come to explain everything to you tomorrow.” “Rachel, you know I really like you. Night shift must be tough, I’ve ordered some fruit delivery for you. Don’t be angry.”

I hadn’t even touched the fruit when the on-call phone started ringing. In the second half of the night, our department admitted six patients, including one critical case. The entire night shift team was as busy as spinning tops. This night shift, I became infamous as the “busiest” in the entire department. It would be hard to find partners for future night shifts. After the shift ended, I dragged my exhausted steps out. Just as I stepped out of the department doors, I saw Emily. Her foot in the protective boot gently tapped the ground, her whole being beautiful and fragile. Jason was gentlemanly holding out his arm, bent at the elbow, and Emily had one arm resting on it, transferring half her weight to him. The coming and going of patients’ families and colleagues at the entrance highlighted how well-matched they looked as a handsome man and a beautiful woman. This scene was clearly displayed before me. I lifted my foot to leave. Hearing the sound, Jason looked up at me, his lips twitching slightly as he awkwardly lowered his arm. “I accidentally slipped on the stairs and sprained my ankle. I really couldn’t find anyone else to bring me to the hospital. I’m sorry for causing trouble for you two.” My mood was truly awful. I didn’t respond and continued walking towards the elevator. Jason grabbed my wrist. He had an impatient look, as if I was being unreasonable. “Isn’t this explanation enough? Are you still angry?” He gripped tightly, and I couldn’t shake him off. Instead, I felt the pain in my wrist bone intensifying. He sighed softly, let go, and opened his arms, taking a step forward to embrace me. “Ah!” Emily fell to the ground. Jason instinctively let go of me and moved a step towards her. I didn’t want to continue this entanglement, losing face in front of my own department, from patients to their families, and even colleagues.

Jason didn’t chase after me. Back home, despite not having slept all night, I still couldn’t fall asleep. When we first rented the apartment, he insisted on not letting me split the rent with him. Now I had no choice but to move out. Every item in the room had been carefully selected by me – cups, toothbrushes, slippers… I had tried to choose couple sets for everything. After packing everything up, I left without hesitation, following the moving company staff. Sitting in the moving company’s truck, I felt utterly exhausted. It seemed as if half of my soul had been left behind in that rented apartment. I rang the doorbell at home, and my stepmother opened the door, looking happy to see me. Before she could say anything, her smile froze as she saw the luggage behind me. She gently set down the dumplings she was holding and asked with concern, “Haven’t you eaten yet? Come, have some.” She sat down across from me with my father. “Why didn’t you call ahead if you were coming back to stay? You haven’t been back for so long, we haven’t even tidied up your room.” I ate the dumplings in silence. This home didn’t belong to me; I felt more like a guest. So I planned to find a suitable place and move out again as soon as possible. “Did you have a fight with Jason?” my father asked, looking at me. “We broke up.” “What nonsense are you up to? Jason has always been so accommodating to you, and he’s so dedicated to his studies and work. Girls should be gentle and understanding. Learn from him a bit.” In my father’s eyes, I was always the one causing trouble. It seemed it had always been this way. After the college entrance exam, my father followed my stepmother’s advice and secretly changed my application choices, causing me to miss out on my dream school. I had a huge fight with him, insisting on retaking the exam. “Why does a girl need to study at such a demanding school? Just take it easy, stay close to us, and we’ll find you a good match to marry in the future. Wouldn’t that be a nice life?” I was shocked and incredulous that I could hear such opinions in this day and age. My stepmother chimed in: “Rachel, your dad has put so much thought into planning for you. Don’t upset him.” “I don’t need your fake kindness. You just hope I won’t succeed so that dad won’t pass on the family business to me!” I hadn’t finished speaking when a hard slap landed on my face. With half my face swollen, I ran back to my grandmother’s house. Grandma held me, trembling with anger. She said my future couldn’t be ruined by the two of them, and she would make the decision for me. Even on a July night, it was still hot. Jason sat with me in the yard. He handed me an ice-cold Coke, one hand gently stroking my back, not saying a word, as if trying to brush away all my grievances. After finishing the Coke, he finally spoke softly, “My scores this year weren’t ideal either. I’m also going back to retake the exam.” I looked at him, and he smiled, revealing that little canine tooth that had grown back. At that moment, I thought, maybe my parents didn’t care about my feelings, but Jason would. After a quick wash, I went out to look at apartments. The real estate agent rode his little electric scooter, carrying me around until it was dark. Finally, we found a suitable place near the hospital. After a day and a night, I was exhausted to the point of collapse. Just as I was about to fall asleep, I received a SnapChat message from Emily. “If I’ve done anything to make you misunderstand, I apologize.” I didn’t want to reply to her anymore. In my half-asleep state, she sent another message, “Jason only helped me because he saw I was pitiful here alone. There’s nothing between us.” I couldn’t help but check her Instagram again. This time, there was an additional post about her visit to Disneyland, dated a month ago.

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My aunt Lisa and I teamed up and bought a house for my mom. Mom immediately posted three updates on Facebook, each one filled with photo albums. “My daughters bought me a house, can you believe it? Look at this huge yard! Three stories!” “Oh my God, this place has three bathrooms! Now I’ll have to decide which one is most convenient when I need to pee!” “What do you think? My girls aren’t bad, huh? So, Facebook friends, have your sons bought you a house yet?” She gleefully tagged every relative in each post. Especially Uncle Jim, Aunt Barb, Uncle John, and Aunt Karen. She didn’t leave anyone out! Her motto was “sharing the love equally.” My grandma and mom had kids on the same day. In rural Appalachia back then, that kind of thing was a scandal. Everyone in town would whisper about it behind your back. But my grandma didn’t care. When Lisa was born, she wasn’t breathing well, her face blue from lack of oxygen. Apparently, my grandma took one look, called her “ugly,” and left her by the door. Mom had just given birth to me, and with her motherly instincts in overdrive, she couldn’t resist the sound of a baby crying. She picked up Lisa, brought her inside, and started feeding her. My dad and grandpa heard about the birth and rushed home from the construction site in their truck. Unfortunately, they didn’t make it. Just before reaching home, they crashed into a ditch and both died on the spot. When my aunt Karen and grandma found out, they stormed into the room where Mom was recovering. They snatched me and Lisa, cursing us as jinxes. “These two cursed us! They killed our father and brother! We should drown them in the river!” Mom was the best seamstress in town. She wasn’t just skilled; she was strong too. Even though she was recovering from childbirth, she wasn’t weak. She grabbed Lisa out of Aunt Karen’s arms, put her back in the crib, and kicked Aunt Karen right in the chest. Karen was left gasping for air, unable to speak. Mom then turned to my grandma, who was about to say something, and snapped, “Get out! It’s bad enough that you’re sharing postpartum with your daughter-in-law. Now you’re coming to my room to cause trouble?” Mom and Dad had just married. They were in the honeymoon phase, deeply in love. Losing him so suddenly broke her heart, but life didn’t allow her to show any weakness. She knew crying during recovery could harm her eyesight, and as a seamstress, bad eyes would end her career. She raised two kids by herself and pushed through the postpartum period, even though Dad’s family treated her horribly. Luckily, she had a lot of friends in the community, and they came over to help out. Aunt Karen and Grandma tried to stir up trouble, but Mom eventually put a sickle under the bed. After that, they finally left her alone.

But the peace didn’t last long. Once Mom recovered from giving birth, Uncle Rick and Aunt Debbie showed up first, claiming they had paid to build the house. They said that once Grandma and Grandpa were gone, the house should belong to them. They threw Mom’s bedding off the bed and told her to leave. Then Uncle John and Aunt Karen followed right behind, worried they wouldn’t get a piece of the house if they were too late. They said that since the farmland was divided among the sons, and since Dad had died, his portion of the land should now go to the remaining men in the family. Aunt Karen was the loudest, even though it had nothing to do with her. She was the typical bossy woman of the countryside, always sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. I realized that later, when Grandma needed care in her old age, and Karen showed her true colors. When Mom left Grandma’s house with us, she only took a small bag of clothes. They wouldn’t even let her take a single cup. Neighbors gathered outside. Some were there to watch the drama, others shouted at Grandma’s family for being so heartless. The yard was packed with onlookers. Grandma stood there, hands on her hips, shouting, “Why do any of you care? Let’s see how Maggie and her brats survive out there!” And with that, she threw Lisa out of bed again. “You wanted to take her so bad, you take her! If you hadn’t interfered back then, she would’ve frozen to death, and I wouldn’t have had to raise this useless girl! I don’t take care of daughters; they’re a bad investment!” Mom just kept walking, carrying me on her back. She never looked back until she heard Lisa’s sharp cries behind her, along with Grandma’s curses. Unable to bear it any longer, Mom ran back, grabbed Lisa, and carried both of us away. The bag of clothes? She didn’t even bother with it.

Mom’s family lived nearby, just a 30-minute walk according to her. So, anything happening with Dad’s family reached them pretty quickly. When we arrived at Uncle Jim and Aunt Barb’s, the door was locked. It was a clear message: We weren’t welcome. Grandma Mildred couldn’t do much. She just sighed, looking at the two children Mom had brought back with her. With nowhere else to go, we returned to Dad’s hometown. There was a small shack near Grandma’s house, one Dad had built when he worked at a nearby fishing pond. Aunt Karen wanted to claim it too, but Mr. Gregory Smith, the town councilor, stepped in. “That shack belongs to Maggie’s husband. Everyone here knows it. Now that he’s gone, it’s all she and her kids have. If you try to take it, you’ll bring down a curse on yourselves.” And so, we finally had a place to stay. It was rundown, but it kept the rain off our heads. Everything in the house, from the furniture to the decorations, was made by Mom’s own hands. Her hands, once so skilled, were now covered in callouses and cuts. With sheer determination, Mom raised me and Aunt Lisa, even though life was tough. But somehow, she managed to get us through it. When it was time to register us for Social Security numbers, Mom didn’t make a big deal out of it. She just told the clerk we were sisters, and both of us ended up with her last name: Johnson. Sarah and I were about six when we finally pieced together the full story from all the town gossip. But neither of us ever asked Mom to confirm any of it. Hardship isn’t worth remembering; once you get past it, you move on. That’s why Sarah and I were extra responsible kids. By the time we were six, we were already doing household chores while other kids our age were still playing. Sometimes, Grandma would see us and send us to help out Uncle Rick and Uncle John’s families. She’d say, “We’re all family.” Whenever that happened, Mom would curse them out the next day until they were bald from stress. Mom didn’t have fancy revenge tactics, but she knew how to make a point. She’d purposely trip and spill manure in front of Grandma’s house or “accidentally” divert water from their rice paddies, leaving them half empty. Later, Aunt Debbie died at home during childbirth while trying for a second baby, hoping for a son. Out of curiosity, I peeked into the doorway for a moment, and Grandma stormed out and slapped me across the face. “You little jinx! I knew it! The reason Debbie couldn’t give birth was because you were standing here!”

I got slapped and didn’t dare say much when I got home. With a bright red handprint on my face, I spent the next few days avoiding Mom, terrified she’d notice. Mom was too busy trying to keep Sarah and me fed and clothed to notice anyway. But avoiding my sister Sarah? That was impossible. We shared everything—food, chores, and space. She was braver than me and dragged me straight over to Grandma’s house, ready to confront her. We barely got a few words out before we saw our cousin Rachel running out of Uncle Rick’s house, crying her eyes out. Grandma followed behind with a shovel, screaming, “Cry, cry, cry! All you ever do is cry! You killed your mother with your crying! You’ve got a baby brother now, so stop acting like you’re at a funeral all the time!” For better or worse, Aunt Debbie was gone, but the baby boy she had was undeniably beautiful. Even Mom couldn’t help but take a second look when she passed by. When she got home, she said to us, “The baby’s cute, no doubt about it, but he sure got unlucky being born into the Johnson family.” Not even two months later, Sarah and I came home from kindergarten and saw Grandma standing at our front door, with Rachel holding her baby brother in her arms. Sarah, who always had a sharp eye for trouble, threw our backpacks inside and grabbed my hand, ready to head back out and play. Grandma, as usual, started yelling, “Play, play, play! That’s all you two ever do! You come home from school, and you don’t even help with your baby brother!” Sarah shot back without missing a beat, “He’s not my brother. Why should I take care of him? If you want me to babysit, I’m charging for it!” After a while, we came back to cook dinner, only to find someone else at the door—Mrs. Ann Davis, the town’s notorious busybody. She was famous for matchmaking anyone and anything—she could probably even marry off two stray dogs. She tried asking Sarah a couple of questions, but when she realized Sarah was a tough nut to crack, she turned to me instead. “Emily, don’t you want a daddy?” I pointed at the framed picture of my dad hanging in the living room and said, confused, “I have a dad.” She gave me a smile and said, “Not that kind of daddy, sweetie. I mean one who can help your mom out and protect you from bullies.” I pointed at Sarah, who was washing rice in the kitchen. “No thanks, I’ve got a sister. She can do all that.”

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My mother always wanted a son, so she adopted the son of a distant widowed relative. I warned her, “That family is full of ungrateful people. You can’t raise a child like that to be loyal.” She stubbornly refused to believe me and even sent me to live with a neighbor while she raised him. Later, whenever my brother misbehaved, my mom would yell at him, “Your sister was right. Bad seeds produce bad fruit. You’re nothing but a curse. I was blind to choose you over my own daughter.” My brother harbored resentment and, when no one was around, set a fire that led to my tragic death. When I opened my eyes again, my mother was visiting her son at the widow’s house. I gently said to my mom, “If you like him, go ahead and raise him.” After my death, the police questioned my brother, “Where were you when the victim died?” My brother patiently replied, “I was at home having dinner with my parents. They can vouch for me!” He winked at my parents. My father said sorrowfully, “He was with us at home that day. My daughter hadn’t been in touch with us for a long time.” My mother remained silent throughout, nodding along blankly. The police asked my father a few more questions, and he started complaining. “That girl was so ungrateful. All these years, she only cared about work and never visited us. Now she had to die away from home. How are we supposed to face our relatives?” My brother, unusually obedient, promised my father that without me, he would be twice as filial to our parents. Everyone present was moved by his show of devotion. In the end, the investigation concluded it was an accidental fire caused by old wiring. I watched as my charred, deformed body was carelessly placed on the ground by my family. At that moment, my brother angrily walked over and kicked my corpse several times, scattering the blackened bones. “You bitch! Your big mouth got me beaten and scolded so many times. Today, I, the ‘bad seed,’ am paying you back with interest. Die without a proper burial!” My father quickly pulled him away. “That’s enough. The relatives from our hometown will be here soon to offer condolence money.” My mother stared blankly at the ground, muttering, “In your next life, may you be born into a good family and be a cherished child.”

When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day my mother took me to pick up my brother. The widowed relative, Fiona, was pushing a dirty little boy towards us. “Child, this is your mom and sister. You’ll have everything you want at their house. It’s much better than staying with me.” The little boy immediately started crying and rolling on the ground. “I don’t want to go! You’re all lying to me! I want to be an only child. I don’t want a sister!” My mother laughed, bending over with amusement. “This little guy is so smart. He’s already fighting for attention before even coming home. But you have to come home with me first.” The boy suddenly stopped crying and pointed at me, asking my mother, “Choose her or me? You can only pick one!” Without hesitation, my mother coaxed him, “I choose you! We don’t need a sister.” The boy quickly pushed away from his mother and obediently took my mother’s hand. My mother excitedly asked me, “What do you think? Isn’t he adorable?” Suppressing my intense hatred, I replied understandingly, “Mom, if you like him, go ahead and raise him.” In my previous life, after giving birth to me, my mother couldn’t conceive again. She was obsessed with having a son, believing that only a son could provide security in her old age, no matter how much I tried to reassure her. She wanted to adopt this child from our relative. I advised my mother that if she wanted a son, she should adopt from an orphanage. This relative’s family was known for causing trouble and fighting. Bringing home an eight or nine-year-old boy would surely lead to problems. My mother wouldn’t listen. She firmly believed that a child with some blood relation would be better. But it was this child, whom my mother thought was perfectly suitable, who always caused trouble and turned our home into chaos. Back then, my mother would beat and scold my brother, saying, “Your sister was right. Bad seeds produce bad fruit. You’re nothing but a curse. I was blind to choose you over my own daughter.” He would glare at me viciously each time, his eyes like those of a wolf ready to tear me apart. Until I discovered he had stolen our house deed, and after an argument with him, on New Year’s Eve, he set fire to my rented apartment, burning me alive. No matter how much I begged and struggled, no one came to save me. In this life, I will make sure everyone pays the price.

After returning home. My mother put my brother’s luggage directly into my room. She carelessly said to me, “Lyra, you’re the older sister. From now on, you have to give your brother the best of everything. He’s suffered a lot in the past, and now that he’s come to our family, we should make him feel the warmth of home.” My brother followed my mother into the room smugly. I, on the other hand, was forced to move into the storage room with my grandmother’s memorial tablet. In my previous life, I had made a big fuss about this at home. My mother said I was selfish and accused me of not understanding her and my brother. She even said outright that I was a daughter who would eventually marry out, and only my brother would be there to support them and care for them in their old age. She told me I should always be grateful to my brother. After several arguments, she even sent me to live with the neighbor, claiming that since my father was always away on business trips, she couldn’t take care of two children alone. Living under someone else’s roof, I couldn’t eat or sleep well. A child with a home lived like an orphan. This time, I didn’t argue or make a fuss. I accepted being an outsider. After my brother came to our home, my father returned once and gave him some pocket money. To bond with my brother, my mother was incredibly attentive, waiting on him hand and foot. She even carried him to the bathroom when he needed to pee at night. Whatever my brother wanted, she fulfilled. He got the best of everything – clothes, food, housing, and transportation. He went from feeling uncomfortable to taking it all for granted. I, on the other hand, was neglected. Learning from my past life’s lessons, I had already planned everything for myself and started working part-time jobs while studying to earn money. My brother was also enrolled in the city’s most famous private boarding school, thanks to my parents’ substantial financial investment. On the day we sent him to school, my mother asked me to make his bed and organize his clothes. She held my brother’s hand reluctantly, instructing him to study hard at school. Thinking about his troublemaking nature from my past life, I calmly waited for the show to begin. Sure enough, trouble arose after just a few days.

When I arrived at the school, my mother was fiercely shielding my brother, arguing with another parent. My mother was cursing loudly, “You bitch, how dare you hit my son! Kids play rough sometimes. At most, I’ll pay for the medical expenses!” The other parent, a woman, was so angry her eyes were bloodshot and she was on the verge of tears. “Is that how a human being talks? My son is the victim here. That big iron bead could have been sucked into his lungs and killed him! I’m telling you, I won’t let this go. I’m going to file a complaint! I’ll make sure your son, that little monster, gets expelled!” The teacher was stuck in the middle, trying to mediate. It turned out that during recess, my brother had stuffed two iron beads into his deskmate’s nostrils. By the time the teacher discovered it, the child had already passed out. Shocked by this, my mother heard my brother’s sobbing behind her. He said pitifully, “He called me a wild child adopted by mom and dad.” My mother became even more furious and started pulling the other parent’s hair. The woman didn’t back down and grabbed my mother’s clothes, ready to fight back. I felt someone pull me from behind, and I took a hard slap meant for my mother. The pain made me dizzy, and my nose started bleeding immediately. Later, the woman received a phone call, probably saying her child was okay. My mother used the excuse that both I and my brother had been hurt by her to settle the matter with just some medical expenses. Afterwards, my mother sternly criticized my brother, telling him never to do such dangerous things to his classmates again. To show her punishment, she directly deducted his pocket money for the month. My mother didn’t notice my discomfort at all and complained to me, “How did your brother become so mischievous? He seemed so well-behaved before.” I laughed coldly inside. This wasn’t mischief; this was my brother’s true nature. In my past life, he said doing such things was fun. I pretended to comfort her, “Mom, you should be glad. This isn’t mischief. It’s because he cares about you that he got angry at what his classmate said. He just chose the wrong way to retaliate.” My mother, hearing this explanation, actually found it reasonable. She looked at my brother with even more affection. I pulled my brother over and said to my mother, “Mom, he’s still young, just a child. Don’t deduct his pocket money. We’re not short on money. He should still have his allowance.” My brother, who had been sulking, suddenly spoke up, “Mom, I did it for you. If you really want to deduct money, take it from my sister’s allowance. I’m the only boy in this family. If you starve or tire me out, how will I take care of you in your old age!” Seeing that my brother was getting angry, my mother quickly hugged him and tried to calm him down. As for me, whom no one cared about, I had to go to the hospital alone because of my dizziness. After rushing around for several hours, when I saw the test results, I was stunned. What on earth was going on?

The incident with my brother at school ended up being just a minor episode. My mother, because of what my brother said, actually reduced my allowance by half and added it to his. I remained calm and didn’t object. Because my mother said, “The older sister should always give in to her younger brother.” Although the teacher would still occasionally contact my mother about my brother throwing someone’s backpack away, cutting someone’s clothes, or kicking over someone’s chair, my mother, under my persuasion, always turned a blind eye. As long as our own child wasn’t hurt, it was fine. My brother’s bottom line was gradually eroded with each incident. In the blink of an eye, I was about to graduate from college and enter my internship phase. While my classmates were busy looking for jobs, I had already saved enough money from my part-time jobs over the years to open a bustling bubble tea shop in the university district. When I received a call from home, I had just finished a day’s business and was happily counting the cash. My mother cried on the phone, “Lyra, please come back quickly and borrow some money to save your brother. Your brother, he…” It turned out that a classmate in my brother’s class had mocked him for being an adopted wild child. In a fit of teenage anger, my brother had beaten the boy unconscious. Now that boy was in the ICU, still not out of danger. The boy’s parents only had this one child. They refused any mediation and directly sued both my brother and the school. I comforted my mother for a bit and promised to return home immediately. Then I calmly dialed a familiar number. By the time I leisurely arrived at our front door, chaos had already erupted. Apparently, the injured boy’s family had come to make trouble, demanding medical expenses from my parents every day. They even threatened to send my brother to juvenile detention no matter what. My brother’s birth mother, Fiona, had arrived earlier than I expected. She was hugging my brother, crying and scolding my parents loudly, “I gave you my well-behaved son, and this is how you promised to take good care of him!” When my brother looked up and saw me, he seemed to see hope. He kept saying, “I can’t go to jail. I can’t go to jail. Let my sister take my place! I’m the boy in our family. I’m supposed to take care of mom and dad when they’re old. I can’t have anything happen to me!” After saying this, he looked at our parents with hopeful eyes, thinking this reason would move them. My mother scolded him with a pained expression, “Did you need to say that? It’s one thing to fight normally, but this time you went too far. You’re killing us! ” Hearing this, Fiona frowned and started arguing with my mother. My father, who had been silent, suddenly shouted, “Enough! Let’s quickly think of a way to raise money!” I came back from the bathroom to find everyone looking at me, waiting for me to produce some money. I sighed and took out a bankbook, handing it to my father. “Dad, I’m not working yet, so I really can’t come up with much. To save my brother, I can only reveal mom’s secret savings.”

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A social media influencer who invested in the production to get a role was throwing her weight around on my set, demanding more scenes. I’d had enough and kicked her off the crew. She immediately turned to Twitter to stir up drama, accusing me of bullying young actors. She even claimed to be the famous Miss Hartley, threatening to have her family blacklist me. As I looked at my cowering stepfather, I couldn’t help but smile in confusion: Since when did the Hartley family have another daughter?Just before the new drama started production, I, as the new director, created a group chat. I sent a message hoping to get to know the actors better over dinner that evening. However, half a day passed after sending the message, and except for a few crew members, there was no response from the male and female leads. At this point, my assistant William secretly messaged me. “Miss Quill, Wendy Hartley – our social media influencer female lead – created a group chat in advance. She said she wants to treat everyone to dinner tonight, but… she didn’t include you.” Before I could process what William meant by “didn’t include you,” I saw Wendy Hartley appear in a group named “aaa New Drama Good Luck”. She first posted a shopping photo, with a million-dollar diamond bracelet on her left wrist that nearly blinded me. Then her coquettish voice came through my phone. “Hey everyone, I’m out having fun and don’t have time to greet you all properly. Tonight I’m treating everyone to dinner at the Waldorf Astoria. The director should come too, or we might get food poisoning at some BBQ joint, right?” After this voice message, she seemed to think it wasn’t enough and added a flirtatious laugh. The previously quiet group suddenly became lively, with the male lead and second male lead suddenly appearing. “Trust Miss Hartley to do it right! Director, Miss Hartley has spoken, how can we not give her face?” “That’s right, director. The Waldorf is a place we couldn’t get into even if we had the money. Let’s give Miss Hartley the honor of our presence.” Seeing the compliments, the female lead became even more smug. Her delicate voice seemed to pierce through the screen. “Director, won’t you join us?” I was speechless. Originally, to reduce complications, I had refused my family’s offer to invite veteran actors for my domestic debut. Instead, I had carefully selected some promising young actors with decent acting skills – except for this Wendy Hartley, who was forced upon me by my investor. I never expected these young actors to be such sycophants. It’s just the Waldorf Astoria. If they wanted to go, I could easily arrange it myself. I zoomed in on the photo Wendy Hartley posted. The shimmering bracelet on her wrist had a hint of pink on the inner circle, with a small, understated “alio” engraving on the edge, looking both low-key and luxurious. This bracelet was from the 10th-anniversary collection of my mother’s design brand. There were only about 20 of them in existence, and their owners were either extremely wealthy or influential. I wondered which rich family’s daughter this Wendy Hartley was, coming to experience life as an actress. My eyes drifted back to the group chat. The second female lead, Stella, was fawning over Wendy… “Miss Hartley, about that new reality show your family invested in, where celebrities visit each other’s homes, could my boyfriend and I possibly be on it?” I choked on my water, coughing for a while before looking back at those words. Hartley family? Miss Hartley? If I remembered correctly, there was only one Hartley family of note in the entire country, and that was my family. When exactly did I get a sister?

My family is a business dynasty, and my mother, Luna Reeves, is a particularly brilliant business genius. In just 15 years, she expanded the Reeves family from a top domestic enterprise to an internationally formidable conglomerate. My father, Mr. Quill – I can’t quite remember his first name – was my mother’s young love. Although their marriage was a business arrangement, they did have a period of genuine affection. Later, my father developed stomach cancer and passed away when I was four, leaving my mother with me and a six-year-old brother. My brother took our mother’s surname, Reeves, while I kept our father’s surname, Quill. My brother made his debut in the entertainment industry years ago, playing the piano with extraordinary skill and winning numerous international awards. He’s the rich heir adored by socialites in the industry, though his high-profile romance and early commitment broke many hearts. Compared to him, I’ve been relatively low-key, studying abroad for years to prepare for taking over the company. Filmmaking is just my personal hobby, and although I’ve submitted a few indie films to film festivals, they didn’t make much of a splash domestically. This led to a persistent rumor that my brother and I weren’t close and had barely even met. After we came of age, our mother found a new love interest. He was ten years younger than her and quite handsome. Although my brother and I didn’t particularly like him, and he often harbored inappropriate thoughts, we didn’t say anything as long as our mother was happy. This past year, my mother has been handling company business abroad, leaving only our stepfather, Henry Hartley, in the country. His influence has been growing, and some people in the company even call him “Mr. Hartley.” I’ve warned him a few times, but he hasn’t shown any restraint. I looked at Wendy Hartley’s age on her resume – hmm, she’s actually two years older than me. Unless there’s been some time travel involved, there’s no way she could be a child my stepfather and mother had in the past couple of years. I then thought about the investor who had pushed Wendy Hartley into the cast – a small-time entertainment company boss who’s been on the rise these past few years, showing signs of overshadowing Reeves Corp in the entertainment sector. Interestingly, he’s my stepfather’s nephew. Things suddenly became much more intriguing. Wendy Hartley was still bragging in the group chat, showing off various luxury skincare products, a small villa full of flowers, and a closet of haute couture dresses. I chuckled to myself, realizing that some of these items were mine, and others belonged to my sister-in-law. I wondered if my neat-freak sister-in-law would freak out seeing these photos. I screenshotted everything she posted in the group and sent it to my brother. Seeing the message status showing “typing” for a while, I didn’t pay much attention. We had a scene to shoot today, and I didn’t have much time to deal with these matters. This drama is an adaptation of the well-known IP “Rain Lotus Pavilion.” There’s been a rumor online that it was written by a famous author’s secret account, but actually, it was the first novel I ever wrote. I’m very particular about its adaptation, personally selecting several screenwriters. Every script they’ve handled has never scored below 8 points online. At this moment, however, one of the screenwriters approached me with a troubled expression. “Director Quill, I was thinking of changing the female lead’s background from an orphan of a martial arts family to a young lady from a family of equal status to the male lead… You know, these days, people are into stories about couples from similar backgrounds, right? Even though we’re working with a big IP, we still need to keep up with the trends, don’t we?” I casually flipped through the script the screenwriter handed me. My original female lead, Luo Qing, was a proud and determined woman who infiltrated the male lead’s family as a maid to avenge her clan’s blood feud. They had turned her into a pampered little wife, doted on by the male lead, second male lead, and third male lead. At the end of the script, to balance things out, they even paired off the second and third male leads with the female lead’s best friend and boss. I closed the script, vividly imagining scenes of the female lead pouting, glaring, and stomping her feet. My face turned green. “…Who told you to make these changes?” I asked. Seeing my anger, the screenwriter didn’t seem bothered. He put on an indifferent expression. “Director Quill, do you know who the investor for our drama is?” “It’s the Hartley family! Although you’ve won a few small awards internationally, the Hartley family isn’t someone a small-time director like you can afford to offend. If we make Miss Hartley unhappy this time, we might all end up out of work.” He arrogantly tossed the script in front of me. “Since Miss Hartley wanted the script changed, we have to follow her wishes!” I really didn’t expect that in the 21st century, there would still be this kind of new-age lackey. I couldn’t help but laugh out of anger. “Fine, fine, fine. So none of you want to do a good job, is that it?” “Then let’s replace everyone. All of you.”

Unexpectedly, after this incident, I ended up being exposed online. Wendy Hartley posted a video update. In the video, a pale-faced girl with a tearful expression questioned why I wouldn’t let her act, and she even took screenshots of yesterday’s chat out of context, implying that I was jealous of her status as a Hartley family member. The comments below were a spectacle. Several people even came forward claiming to be my college classmates, subtly insulting me as a child from a single-parent family with a twisted mentality. “She’s just jealous that Wendy Hartley has a happy and complete family, and she’s beautiful too.” “Shameless, Zara Quill is such a shameless bitch.” “I heard she was kept by someone, that’s how she got the director’s position. How else could a small-time director like her get the script for ‘Rain Lotus Pavilion’? It’s just a shame for the female lead I love, I hope she won’t be filmed by someone like this.” The comments were full of flying rumors. Of course, there were also some voices supporting me, but Wendy Hartley’s fans were too strong, and those voices were quickly drowned out in the tide. #InternationallyRenownedDirectorBulliesNewActress# #RainLotusPavilionDirectorRuns# #HartleyHeiressWendyHartley# Early the next morning, I saw these trending topics blazing across social media, along with 99+ unreadable messages in my inbox. Just as I was about to post a statement to explain, my brother’s call came through. “Little Zara, why aren’t you replying to messages?” My brother Lachlan Reeves’ deep voice came through the phone speaker. “What happened yesterday?” “Bro, check the trending topics,” I said. After a moment, the pretend-deep voice on the other end couldn’t keep up the act anymore. “Ahhh! Where did I get a second sister from?! I’m going to post on Twitter right now and call her out for riding on our coattails.” Imagining his exasperated expression, I couldn’t help but laugh. Suddenly remembering the investor who had brought Wendy Hartley in, an idea struck me. I quickly stopped him, “Bro, listen to me.” I told him my plan. After hearing it, Lachlan wasn’t angry anymore. He clapped his hands and laughed heartily, completely losing the image of the elegant young master that the outside world saw him as. Finally, his voice carried a hint of coldness. “If this has nothing to do with our stepfather, that would be best. If it does have something to do with him, I just hope mother won’t be heartbroken.” I posted a statement as usual, clarifying what had happened on set that day. However, it was clear that few people believed me. Wendy Hartley’s fans continued to mock and stir up trouble in the comments, saying that I, an orphan, was jealous of the Hartley family’s young miss, and even shouted that I would face retribution in the future. I simply turned off my phone, out of sight, out of mind. At this moment, a notification from one of my special follows popped up. “@LachlanReeves: Don’t bully my sister, she just came back to the country and it’s not easy for her on her own.” Immediately after, a retweet appeared on my homepage from Wendy Hartley. She posted a few crying emojis, followed by a “Thank you, brother.” I could imagine Wendy Hartley’s expression as she posted this tweet, and I couldn’t help but retch a few times. Ugh, I wonder if Lachlan was disgusted by this. Lachlan’s tweet seemed to confirm Wendy Hartley’s identity. The comments under my post from Wendy Hartley’s fans became even more arrogant. “You bad woman, how dare you bully Wendy Hartley.” “Apologize to Wendy Hartley right now!” I didn’t care about the attitude of her fans. I looked with some amusement at the missed call notification from a contact labeled “Stepfather” on my phone. He must have seen the comments online and wanted to test my attitude. I didn’t respond to him, putting the phone aside and closing my eyes to rest. The fish was about to take the bait. It was time for the angler to relax a bit.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294700”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #重生Reborn #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring #浪漫Romance #玄幻Fantsy #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic #校园School #擦边Steamy