To help her assistant, who was evading taxes, my boss’s wife deliberately perjured herself, shifting the blame onto me. I was left speechless, punished by law, and detained for two months. After my release, I was ostracized by outraged colleagues, and my prospects for promotion were ruined. Seeing my quiet acceptance, my wife thought I had finally become compliant and announced a grand wedding to make it up to me. However, during the wedding vows, the assistant, consumed by jealousy, ran to the company rooftop, threatening suicide if my wife didn’t cancel the wedding. My wife, who had always indulged his every whim, panicked. She abandoned everyone at the wedding, publicly fleeing to comfort her assistant all night. Afterward, she calmly explained to me. “Bob is young and impulsive; I was just afraid something might happen to him.” “Besides, he helped a lot with your early release. Strictly speaking, he’s your savior, and I couldn’t just abandon him.” I looked at the couple’s rings, newly placed on her finger, and simply hummed, saying nothing. My wife, believing I had accepted her excuse, was quite pleased and, for the first time ever, promised to take me on a honeymoon trip once she had appeased her assistant. But she seemed to forget. She had already signed the divorce papers, and I had filed a lawsuit with the court for a case review. From then on, we were no longer husband and wife. Just plaintiff and defendant. 1. The day after my wife, Scarlett Willow, fled our wedding, the company chat group was still buzzing with discussions about the events. Even at work, I received numerous pitying glances from colleagues. “What do you think? After such a huge shock, how will Nathan Stone retaliate this time? Will he cause a scene at the company with Scarlett? Or will he put up banners cursing Bob Barclay?” “Probably not, I saw he was pretty calm even after Scarlett ran away from the wedding yesterday.” “Maybe he was in there for three months and is afraid Scarlett will divorce him, so he doesn’t dare to stop her anymore.” As I walked into the office, several colleagues were roaring with laughter. They fell silent when I entered. In the past, I would have been angry, but now, I said nothing, pretending not to hear, and in the midst of their intense stares, I sat down at my desk. They were right; three months in prison had smoothed out my rough edges. Moreover, I had mentally prepared for their mockery. Everyone in the company knew about the scandalous relationship between Scarlett, her assistant Bob Barclay, and me. Scarlett and I had been together since college, our relationship always strong. After graduation, I excelled and was offered a high-paying job at the company, while Scarlett, with her mediocre qualifications, struggled to find work. It was I who pulled strings to get her hired. I stayed up until dawn helping her with tasks she couldn’t do, and I went out of my way to fix her mistakes. Later, during an internal promotion, I even voluntarily gave up my spot for her. No matter how tired or exhausted I was, seeing her happy made everything feel worthwhile. But two years ago, Scarlett risked being fired to exceptionally hire Bob Barclay, who didn’t even qualify for an interview. Her excuse to me back then was that seeing him reminded her of her past self. Even though I was annoyed, to help her, I personally and diligently trained Bob until he could work independently. I didn’t expect Bob to be grateful, but I never imagined I’d overhear him complaining to Scarlett, accusing me of constantly suppressing and insulting him. I couldn’t help but confront him, but Scarlett said I was guilty and, without any investigation, demoted me. After that, she targeted me everywhere for Bob. She’d dump Bob’s responsibilities on me; she’d put Bob’s name on designs I had painstakingly created; she even asked me to drive two hours in winter to buy Bob’s favorite breakfast. I thought she was just confused for a while. But who knew, during this tax audit, Scarlett, to protect him, colluded with other colleagues to report me, pinning the blame on me. She even used her status as my wife to plant false evidence in my room beforehand. Faced with this sudden betrayal, I was utterly speechless. During my three months of detention, she only visited me once. She said she would never divorce me. I thought she still had feelings for me, but who knew it was just to make me give up and not involve Bob. I scoffed at the thought. My phone chimed with a message; I opened it to find it was from the lawyer I had contacted earlier. “The picture you sent last night is crucial evidence, but the file is too fragmented. The agency says it will take three days to restore it to its original state.” “However, other evidence is already conclusive. If you’re in a hurry, we can file the lawsuit now.” It was just an ordinary message, yet I gripped my phone tightly, my knuckles turning white. After my release, I stayed by Scarlett’s side, putting aside our past grievances. She thought I was too scared to divorce her, that I had learned my place. But she didn’t know that every single day and night, I was searching for evidence to prove my innocence. Now, finally… I exhaled deeply, my voice firm. “No hurry, set the lawsuit date for three days from now.” “No matter the cost, no matter the price, this lawsuit must be won.” The lawyer was momentarily stunned, then stated solemnly: “Upholding justice is our mission. The law will not let any innocent person suffer injustice, nor will it let any criminal go unpunished.” After hanging up, I was about to turn off the screen when Bob Barclay sent a message. I opened it and saw a picture. He and Scarlett were in the kitchen. Scarlett wore an apron around her waist, her head bent as she cooked. Bob playfully pressed his cheek against hers, an intimate pose. Scarlett’s lips curved slightly, seemingly enjoying his closeness. But before, if I even lightly touched her, she would push me away with extreme disgust, saying she hated physical closeness with men. Now it seems she didn’t hate men, just me. “With one call from me, Sister Scarlett abandoned the wedding and stayed with me all night. Brother Nathan, you’ve been married to Sister Scarlett for five years, and she’s never been that attentive to you, has she?” His tone was as proud and provocative as ever. I knew he was doing it on purpose. Before, I had complained to Scarlett about him, but she wouldn’t even look at it. Instead, she’d impatiently ask if I had provoked Bob, otherwise, why would he pick on me and not others? She said she wouldn’t interfere in our “men’s disputes,” but after I angrily retaliated against Bob, what followed was Scarlett’s reprimand. She’d blame me for making a big deal out of nothing, accusing me of being petty and easily provoked by a single sentence. I scoffed, intending to ignore it, but then I noticed that if I didn’t reply, Bob would keep sending more photos. I saved each one and forwarded them to the lawyer as supplementary evidence. Then I blocked and deleted him. Less than two minutes later, Scarlett’s call came through. “Nathan, did you unfriend Bob?” As soon as I answered, Scarlett questioned me with a tone of disgust. “What’s gotten into you? Don’t you know this kind of behavior is childish? Don’t forget, you and Bob still have to work together in the future. You unfriended him, are you not going to handle work anymore?” I said nothing. Whatever I said was wrong, whatever I did was wrong. Scarlett, however, took my silence as guilt, and her tone became even more aggressive: “Apologize to Bob, add him back, and I can let this go.” “Sister Scarlett, no matter what, Brother Nathan is your boyfriend. It’s not right for him to apologize to me. I’ve already forgiven him, so let’s just drop it.” Before I could speak, Bob said, his voice tinged with grievance. He seemed to be speaking up for me, but I knew he was trying to provoke. Indeed, Scarlett scoffed. “So what if he’s my boyfriend? I’m always fair; I don’t play favorites. I’m just afraid some people use the excuse of being a boyfriend to act recklessly.” “Nathan, I’m asking you one more time, do you know you were wrong?” I smiled: “Yes, I know I was wrong.” Wrong for not seeing through her sooner, for not returning her to Bob Barclay sooner. But before I could speak, Scarlett hummed in satisfaction: “Knowing you’re wrong is enough. Considering you’ve just been released from prison and might still be a bit disoriented, Bob and I won’t pursue this.” “Bob also helped a lot with your release this time. No matter how you look at it, you owe him an apology.” “No need to be so polite, Sister Scarlett, it’s what I should do.” “You’re just too kind. But, I’ve made up my mind on this, don’t refuse again.” “…” The two of them went back and forth, giving me no room to interject, and then Scarlett hung up. And I quickly realized Scarlett’s decision. It was her taking twenty thousand from my card and transferring it to Bob Barclay without my authorization. 2. When Scarlett Willow agreed to marry me, I gave her my bank card PIN to show my sincerity. I silently approved of her using my card, thinking we were a family, and besides, as a man, I should contribute more to our home. Initially, she only bought our daily necessities, but later, seeing my indifference, she started buying herself designer clothes, luxury bags, and cosmetics costing hundreds, even thousands. My monthly salary was thirty thousand, but by mid-month, my bank card would only have a few cents left, not even enough for a meal. I couldn’t help but mention it to her twice, and Scarlett, in a fit of pique, accused me of being stingy with money, declaring she would no longer rely on me and would become a “strong independent woman.” Later, she did stop extravagant spending, but I noticed that she still had fixed expenses of twenty thousand every month. It wasn’t until recently that I discovered it was for gifts for Bob Barclay. Scarlett told me to save money diligently, not even allowing me to buy underwear that cost ten dollars for three pairs, yet a pair of socks she bought for Bob cost three hundred. She preached frugality, while I patched up a pair of cheap market shoes for two years, she bought Bob two pairs of thousand-dollar sneakers within a month. She also insisted on meticulous planning; she’d even meticulously plan the exact grammage of ingredients for a meal for me, yet she and Bob would spend over ten thousand dollars on a single meal celebrating his birthday. … Thinking about it now, I felt increasingly ridiculous. However, large transfers require personal verification. Soon, Scarlett sent me a message as usual: “Verification code.” I glanced at our past chats. I didn’t know when it started, but the only messages Scarlett actively sent me were these three words. She had even complained that verification codes were bothersome and wanted me to link a sub-card for her use. But I, who had always been compliant with her every wish, for some unknown reason at that moment, was inexplicably prompted to refuse. Thinking back now, perhaps my subconscious self was already trying to save myself. I scoffed, ignored it, and after leaving the company, I first drafted divorce papers, then took the property deed to the nearest real estate agent. The house was purchased outright by my parents as our matrimonial home when we got married, specifically choosing a location Scarlett liked. During the transfer of ownership, to put her mind at ease, my parents even specifically arranged for me to add her name. However, over the years, whenever my parents wanted to stay for a couple of days, Scarlett would still complain, making me tell them I was busy with work. Thinking back now, I really was unfilial. Upon learning I wanted to sell the house, the agent informed me that Scarlett’s signature was still required. I told them I had proof of full payment, and after reviewing it, the agent explained: “This can be used as evidence in court, but if you follow the normal process, both signatures are still needed.” I understood. I couldn’t reveal my intentions to Scarlett just yet. Before going to court, I had to completely sever ties with her. After thanking the agent, I asked for a template of a power of attorney agreement and returned home. I had expected Scarlett to return late tonight, but upon opening the door, I saw her sitting on the sofa, her face grim. Seeing me enter, she cast a cold glance at me. She stood up and walked into the bedroom, slamming the door shut with a deafening bang. This was a ritual after every cold war, and I understood it meant she wanted me to apologize and appease her. Despite my reluctance, I sighed as I looked at the agreement in my hand, and walked to the door. Anyway, I’d apologized so many times; one more wouldn’t hurt. Moreover, this apology would allow me to reclaim the entire house. Thinking this, I pushed open the bedroom door. Before I could even step inside, her usual eyebrow razor was thrown at me. I instinctively dodged, but it still grazed my face, causing a sharp sting. Seeing that she had actually injured me, Scarlett froze for a moment, a complex expression flashing in her eyes. Then, she returned to her usual self. I expected her to make me kneel and apologize again, or transfer some money to appease her, as she used to do. To my surprise, she spoke earnestly for the first time ever. “Nathan, I know you’re still bothered by the wedding, but I explained to you yesterday, Bob is young and impulsive, he really could have done something reckless.” “My going to him was also for your sake. If something truly happened to him, would you really be able to live the rest of your life in peace?” I found it amusing: “Why wouldn’t I be able to?” Scarlett sounded exasperated: “Not to mention he’s still a human life, he’s also our colleague. We’ve been together for so many years, how can we just watch him die?” “Besides, he helped a lot with your release this time. If it weren’t for his connections, do you think you’d have gotten out so quickly?” I found it amusing, like listening to a fantasy. Why didn’t she consider that if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have gone to prison in the first place? Moreover, my lawyer had told me that under normal investigation, my situation wouldn’t have led to three months of detention. Whether his “connections” were to help me or harm me, no one truly knew. I didn’t tell Scarlett any of this; she wouldn’t believe it anyway. Seeing my silence, Scarlett thought she had convinced me and chuckled. “This time I used your card also to earn some good karma for you. Your imprisonment this time might be because you were too stingy usually, so God couldn’t stand it anymore and made you bleed heavily.” “Do you really think I care about your petty few dollars?” After speaking dismissively, Scarlett noticed the documents in my hand. “What’s that in your hand?” “I’m going to sell this house.” “Sell the house?” Scarlett raised an eyebrow. I was deliberating what excuse to use to persuade her, but then I heard Scarlett cover her mouth and laugh: “So you’ve finally decided to listen to me and sell this one for a bigger house?” “I told you long ago, this house has bad feng shui, and the new development next door isn’t bad. I had someone look at it…” Scarlett chattered on. I realized that before my imprisonment, Scarlett had constantly urged me to sell this house and move to the newly developed property next door. To get me to agree, she’d praise it to high heaven, but I knew she was only doing all this because Bob Barclay was planning to buy a house there, and she wanted to move closer to him. I didn’t correct her; I nodded: “You’re right, I’ll go take care of the paperwork tomorrow.” Before, whenever there was some troublesome paperwork, I was always the one to handle it. So, Scarlett didn’t think much of it and signed the proxy agreement without hesitation. After she signed, I naturally flipped to the last page of the divorce agreement. “Why is this different from the first two documents?” Scarlett noticed the discrepancy and was about to look at the cover. Just then, her phone suddenly rang. She merely glanced at it, and her brows softened into a smile. She lost all interest in looking at the agreement, hastily signing the last page. “Alright, you can go now, I have things to do.” Scarlett waved me away. Even without her saying it, I knew the call was from Bob Barclay. Every night, they would talk for nearly half an hour before bed. I don’t know what they had planned this time, but for the next two days, Scarlett left early and returned late. I no longer kindly inquired, only to be chastised by her for being meddlesome, as I had in the past. This time, I focused on my own affairs. The next day, I went to the real estate agency and submitted the power of attorney agreement. To sell the house as quickly as possible, I listed the price very low. In less than half a day, a buyer viewed the house and closed the deal directly. On the third day, my lawyer informed me that the evidence had been successfully restored, and the court had already begun hearing the case. Everything was set in stone. As soon as the case reopened, all the injustices I had suffered would be returned twofold.

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My mother was renowned far and wide for her beauty. My father, on the other hand, was utterly unremarkable in every way. His only real advantage was having grown up alongside her. Yet, my grandfather, with his old-fashioned ways, saw something in his steady, honest nature. I heard that on his deathbed, my grandfather promised my mother to him, and she wept for three days straight. Years later, when my father had an affair, she simply moved into a different room to sleep. It was then that my grandmother truly saw my father for what he was, privately cursing my grandfather for being a senile old fool who had ruined their daughter’s life. Only after I was grown and independent did she decisively file for divorce. When she and I moved back to the old countryside house to clear out her belongings, we found a leather suitcase hidden under her bed. Inside were an airplane ticket, an unopened letter, and a photograph of a man I’d never seen before. On the back of the photo, four words were scrawled: “I’m waiting for you.” My head swam, and suddenly I was back at an airport, twenty-five years in the past. A young woman in a trench coat, dragging a suitcase, sat down beside me and linked her arm through mine. “You little rascal, you’re truly loyal, actually escaping with me!” she chirped, a hint of nervous excitement in her voice. “Just wonder if Dad’s ‘honest’ apprentice will chase us. Hope he doesn’t do anything stupid.” It was my mother, before my grandfather’s dying wish had shackled her to that marriage. Mom, this time, please don’t look back. You belong where you’re meant to be. … I stared at my mother, dumbfounded. She was so incredibly beautiful then. It was hard to imagine this vibrant, enthusiastic woman, clutching her suitcase, would one day become that haggard woman in the kitchen, silently enduring the cooking fumes, barely exchanging a word with my father. “What’s wrong, you frozen?” She nudged my shoulder, her tone light but laced with guilt. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Regretting this crazy escape with me?” I snapped back to reality, my palms slick with sweat. “Evelyn, are you absolutely sure about this?” Her gaze darted away, her fingers unconsciously picking at the lock on her suitcase. “Dad’s going to marry me off to Liam Miller. The date’s practically set.” She gave a bitter laugh, a smile more painful than any frown. “Liam’s a good man, I guess. Honest, decent, Dad’s favorite apprentice. But the moment I look at him, I feel like my life is already over. He always gives me this feeling, like ‘I’ve done so much for you, you must be moved.’ Chloe, do you understand? I’ve never been south, never seen the ocean. I don’t even know what this free world Adam Grant talks about looks like. Am I really doomed to spend my entire life in that one alley, just circling the stove until I’m old?” I gripped her hand tightly. In my previous life, she had turned back at precisely this juncture. Because of my grandfather’s dying wish, she married my father. And what was the result? That “honest” man, Liam, started to resent her quiet dignity soon after I was born. Eventually, he found a woman outside who would drink and gamble with him, then turned around and accused Evelyn of being unfaithful and wild. “Living your whole life for someone else only ends in mutual destruction,” I said, looking into her eyes, enunciating each word. “Evelyn, you don’t owe anyone anything. If you go back now, you will regret it. Go find Adam. He’ll show you the world.” She paused, clearly unaccustomed to such talk. The teachings of that era told her that obedience was a virtue, and sacrifice was noble. “But Dad…” She bit her lower lip hard. “His health isn’t good. If I leave, it’ll be seen as unfilial. I don’t think I can bear the guilt of abandoning my name like that.” “A shoe that doesn’t fit will chafe your foot until it’s raw. That’s not the foot’s fault,” I said, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Liam’s ‘honesty’ has hooks in it. He’s being agreeable now because he’s claiming the rest of your life. Can you really bear that silent pressure?” A flicker danced in her eyes, and her breathing grew heavier. Just then, a hurried footsteps echoed. Liam was here. He was flushed from running, a button missing from his usually neat shirt, clutching a half-bag of steaming hot buns. He looked every inch the lovesick, clumsy, ‘honest’ man. Other travelers in the terminal turned to stare. “Evelyn!” he gasped, reaching out to grab her suitcase. “Stop this nonsense. Master’s so angry at home he can’t even eat. Come back with me. I won’t tell Master the details. We’ll just say you went out to clear your head.” His tone was nauseating. A condescending magnanimity, as if Evelyn were merely a petulant child who’d run away, and he, the generous adult. Evelyn turned sideways, gently evading his hand. “Liam, I’m not coming back,” she said, her voice soft. Liam froze, his hand suspended awkwardly in mid-air. “Evelyn, has someone been putting ideas in your head?” He shot a displeased glance at me. “I know you chase romance and think I’m boring. But isn’t life just about the daily grind? What can Adam give you? Today he’s in the south, tomorrow he’s in the northwest, no steady job. Are you going to go begging if you go with him?” “I’m not asking for handouts, I’m asking for freedom,” Evelyn looked at him, her eyes steadily growing colder. “You want a wife, kids, and a warm hearth, but I want the open world. We see life completely differently. Forcing ourselves together would be unfair to both of us. Liam, stop wasting your time on me.” Liam’s brows furrowed into a knot. He gritted his teeth, shook his head, and sighed. “You’re too naive. In this world, apart from your parents, only I will truly care for you. Do you really think the world out there is so easy to navigate?” He was about to say more, but the airport announcement suddenly changed. “Passenger Evelyn Cole, please contact your family immediately.” Old Man Johnson, from their alley, rushed over, sweating profusely and stumbling. He grabbed Evelyn’s arm. “Evelyn, quick! Go back! Your father collapsed! Heart attack! The doctor says it might be serious!” The airplane ticket slipped silently from Evelyn’s hand, hitting the floor. Her earlier resolve and yearning for freedom shattered completely at the mention of a heart attack. Her eyes instantly welled up. “Dad…” she whispered, trembling, her legs weak, utterly losing all her resolve. I bent down and picked up the ticket, a wave of intense helplessness washing over me. Does fate truly have such a powerful pull? When we arrived at the hospital, the hallway was filled with hushed sobs. My grandfather lay weakly on the hospital bed. He looked even older than I remembered, the tough resolve of a traditional man completely eroded by illness. Seeing Evelyn enter, my grandfather’s hand trembled as he reached out. “Evie, it’s good you’re back,” his voice was broken. “Your father has no other wishes in this life. Just to see you in a wedding gown, settled, before he closes his eyes. Liam is a good boy, I watched him grow up. He’ll take care of you. Then your father can rest in peace.” There was no scolding, no shouting. Only this heart-wrenching plea, the cruelest weapon of all. Evelyn knelt by the bed, covering her mouth, tears streaming between her fingers. She wanted to object, to speak of freedom, but looking at his almost ashen face, she dared not open her mouth. “Dad, I don’t want to marry Liam,” she finally managed to say, her voice as faint as a gnat’s buzz. “I have someone I like, Adam Grant, he…” “Silence!” My grandfather’s emotions suddenly flared. He coughed violently twice, his face turning purple. “That Adam Grant? Always gallivanting around, doesn’t even have a steady job! He’s too wild, a known playboy, not someone you can build a life with! Can he give you stability? Can he keep you from starving? Liam, I trained with my own hands.” My grandfather stared at her, his stubborn gaze chilling me to the bone. “Only by entrusting you to him can I rest easy. Do you want to see me die with regrets?” Evelyn turned to me, desperation in her eyes. She was like a little deer caught in a trap, surrounded by hunters with the moral pitchforks. At two in the morning, the hospital corridor fell silent. My grandmother, exhausted, had been taken to a relative’s house to rest. Now it was just my mother and me. “Chloe, am I completely useless?” She leaned against the hard chair, her face pale. “Can’t even control my own life. I despise this arranged fate so much, but I can’t bring myself to refuse.” I handed her a cup of hot water and gently took her cold hand. “Evelyn, your father’s illness isn’t your fault. You haven’t stolen anything, you haven’t cheated anyone. You just want to live your own life. You don’t owe anyone anything,” I tried to keep my voice calm. “Don’t blame his illness on yourself. These are two separate things.” “But he’s my father,” she said with a bitter smile, slowly sipping the water. “If I left, and he truly died of anger, I would live with that guilt for the rest of my life. How could I… how could I be so selfish?” I cradled her face, looking into her eyes. “Selfish people often live better lives. But kind people like you, who are always self-sacrificing, end up being eaten alive, bones and all.” I felt as if I was seeing her, decades in the future, sitting on a balcony late at night, gazing at the sky. She was silent for a long time. “Maybe that’s just who I am,” she murmured to herself, closing her eyes in pain. “No courage to leave, just self-pitying here.” In that moment, my heart ached so much I wanted to hold her tight. As dawn broke, Liam came in, carrying a thermos. There were dark circles under his eyes; he looked like he’d been up all night. “Evelyn, you haven’t slept all night. Have something to eat first.” He ladled out a bowl of porridge, blew on it, then offered it to Evelyn. “I talked to the attending physician. Master’s condition is temporarily stable. With continued rest, he should slowly recover.” “Thank you, Liam,” Evelyn took the bowl but didn’t touch the spoon. Liam sat beside her, maintaining a subtle distance—close enough to show intimacy, but not intrusive. “Evelyn, I know your mind is in turmoil. What happened with Adam, I can pretend it never did. As long as you stay, I’ll be good to you for the rest of my life.” His voice was low and gentle, but his gaze was locked on her. “Master always wanted us to be together. This is for your own good, too.” I stood nearby, unable to listen to his hypocritical words any longer. “Liam, you’re taking advantage of the situation,” I said, my voice cold, tearing through his facade without mercy. “You know Evelyn is distraught right now, and you’re using her father’s illness to bind her. What kind of man does that make you?” Liam turned his head. “Chloe Yeager, I’ve tolerated you long enough! Are you deliberately trying to cause trouble?” “Liam…” Evelyn looked up, trying to explain something. “I know your head isn’t clear right now. No need to rush your answer,” Liam interrupted her directly, standing up and adjusting his jacket, masking the possessiveness in his eyes. “I’ll wait for you. No matter how long, I’ll wait.” After he left, Evelyn looked at the steaming bowl of porridge, and tears streamed into the bowl. This tactic was truly vile. Liam was using my grandfather’s illness, using Evelyn’s guilt, to slowly erode her defenses. In the afternoon, I went back to the alley. At the reception room, the old caretaker handed me a letter. The envelope had no stamp, sent by someone entrusted to deliver it. It was addressed to Evelyn. It was from Adam Grant. I brought the letter back to the hospital, and Evelyn’s hands trembled as I gave it to her. Inside the envelope, besides the letter, was a photograph. Adam stood by the clear blue sea, tall buildings behind him, smiling brightly. It was the world Evelyn had always dreamed of. She sat on a bench, holding the letter, her fingers tightly clutching the edges of the paper. She desperately wanted to open it. But the thought of her critically ill father potentially dying from her rebellion made her press the letter against her heart. I knew she needed my guidance. “Open it,” I said, sitting beside her and patting her shoulder. “This is the way out you’re looking for.” She trembled as she opened the letter. In it, Adam wrote that he had settled down, found an apartment with a balcony where he could see the ocean. He said he understood her struggles, but he would wait for her there, until the day she was completely free. After reading the letter, a faint glimmer finally ignited in Evelyn’s eyes. “But I can’t leave,” she cried, covering her face in pain. “My father could die any moment.” I knew that she still needed someone to make the decision for her. My presence alone wasn’t enough. While she was fetching water, I picked up the photo and turned it over. On the back was Adam’s address in San Francisco. I pulled out a piece of paper I had prepared from my bag and quickly scribbled a message on it. “Adam Grant, Evelyn is trapped in the hospital right now, her father is critically ill. Her entire family is forcing her to marry Liam Miller, and she’s about to break. If you truly understand her, if you’re not just a coward who only knows how to write letters, please show up immediately. Otherwise, you will lose her forever. After this letter, no one else can save her.” I rushed to the post office at top speed and sent a registered express letter. This was the last chance. If Adam didn’t come, Evelyn would repeat the tragedy of her previous life. I stood at the post office entrance, watching the letter slide into the mailbox, silently thinking: Mom, this time, I will pull your happiness back for you. The situation deteriorated faster than I expected. Due to a violent coughing fit, my grandfather was rushed back into the emergency room. This time, it lasted a full two hours. When the doctor emerged, his face was extremely grim. “Prepare yourselves. The old man might not make it through the month. It’s a matter of days now.” These words became the last straw. My grandmother completely broke down in that moment. She had originally quietly supported Evelyn’s pursuit of happiness. But now, she suddenly grabbed Evelyn’s hand, crying hysterically. “Evie, I’m begging you! I’ll get on my knees for you, okay?” My grandmother actually started to kneel on the floor. Evelyn cried out, holding her close. “Your father was so stubborn his whole life. This is his only wish before he dies. Just grant him this one thing, just so he can rest in peace. Do you want to see him die with regrets?” The surrounding relatives and former colleagues also gathered around. My uncle stepped forward, sighing heavily. “Evelyn, filial piety is the greatest virtue. At a time like this, personal feelings have to take a back seat. You can’t be so selfish.” “Exactly. Liam is such a good boy, he’s been busy helping out all these days. Just agree, don’t let your father leave with bitterness.” Each sentence was like a heavy chain, clamping down on Evelyn’s neck, choking her until she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t even cry anymore. Liam walked over, his gaze sweeping over everyone. “Evelyn, don’t worry. As long as it brings Master peace of mind, we can have a simple ceremony first. After we’re married, I’ll treat you like a sister. I’ll never force you.” His tone was gentle and warm, making him sound like a paragon of virtue. I stood by, watching this absurd family drama, a furious fire building in my chest. “Treat her like a sister?” I said coldly, mercilessly tearing through his disguise. “Liam, do you even believe that? Marriage is a contract, not a stage for your self-righteous performance.” My uncle glared at me, pointing a finger at my nose. “You’re an outsider, what are you interfering for? This is our family business!” I ignored him, gripping Evelyn’s hand tightly. “Evelyn, don’t say yes,” I whispered in her ear. The hospital room door opened, and a nurse wheeled out my weakened grandfather. He stared fixedly at Evelyn, his gaunt hand clutching the bedrail. “Evie… say yes. If you say yes, your father will smile as he slowly goes. If you shake your head, your father will die right now before your eyes.” This was an overt threat. Evelyn trembled all over, the last bit of resolve keeping her standing finally crumbling. She closed her eyes, her lips moving. The word “yes” was on the tip of her tongue. In that very second, hurried footsteps echoed from the end of the hospital corridor. Bang! The hospital room door was flung open. A man in a dark trench coat stood in the doorway. His face was covered in dust, his hair disheveled—he had clearly traveled across half the country overnight. All the accusations and pleas ceased instantly. Adam Grant gasped for breath, walking straight to Evelyn. He firmly took her hand. “I’m sorry, Evelyn, I’m late,” his voice was a little hoarse. “I promised to show you the ocean. How could I break my word?”

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Five years after my death, I watched with my own eyes as Jane’s childhood friend drowned our child. When the detective called Jane, she was still eating strawberries that Julian had fed her. Hearing the detective’s words, she merely gave a cold laugh. “Dead? If she’s dead, bury her. Why are you calling me?” Finally, she arrived at the police station, a look of impatience on her face. “You said she’s dead. Where’s the body?” 1 My soul floated in mid-air, gazing at my daughter’s body entangled with river weeds. Jane’s voice reached my ears, pulling me back to a moment of haunting familiarity. We hadn’t truly “met” in nearly five years. After my death, I somehow became a spirit, bound to my daughter’s side. She was so small, living in an orphanage for those five years. Until Julian appeared, pressing her head into the river water, holding her down with brutal force. I knelt beside them, screaming, banging my head on the ground. I begged him to spare my daughter. I was already dead; what more did he want? But I was a ghost now, utterly useless, able only to kneel there. “Are you sure this is my daughter? She wasn’t this thin. If you’re going to fake a body, at least pick a more convincing one.” Jane’s voice snapped me out of my memories, but it only twisted the knife in my heart further. What did she mean by that? Jane held her hand over her nose, a frown etched on her face as she glanced at Lily’s small body. Then, with utter nonchalance, she said to the detective, “I’ve identified the child. Can I leave now?” A few younger detectives, unable to stomach her indifference, slammed their hands on the table and stood up. “That’s your daughter who died! How can you be so… so heartless!” She lifted her chin arrogantly. “Heartless? At least I showed up. Her father hasn’t even bothered to show his face! And you call me heartless!?” The detective was speechless. Beside them, I cried out anxiously, “I’m not! I just… I’m just dead.” But no one could hear the voice of a ghost. How could I be heartless towards my own daughter? She was the sole testament to Jane’s and my love, my only continuation in this world. I’d watched her, small and alone, crying in bed at night, clutching the little doll Jane had given her, quietly asking it, “Why doesn’t Mom want me anymore? Where’s my Dad?” Every time I saw that, my heart felt like it was being torn to shreds. Yet, her mother, for five whole years, hadn’t once come to see her. “We haven’t found the father’s contact number, so he might not know yet. You could try contacting him,” a detective’s voice chimed in. Jane scoffed. “So you’ve put on this elaborate show just for that, to make me humble myself and find him? I’m telling you, absolutely not!” With that, she turned to leave. But as she reached the door, she paused. A flicker of hope ignited within me, anticipating her turning back. She turned to the detective and asked, “Can I take the body now?” The detective nodded, and Jane instructed her bodyguard to carry my daughter’s tiny body. I was filled with the belief that she still harbored affection for our child, that she was in pain now. But I never imagined that as soon as we left the station, Jane would tell her bodyguard to dump our daughter in the pauper’s grave on the south side of town. She wouldn’t even spare Lily a proper glance, casually saying, “Since Brandon Sterling doesn’t even want to come see his own daughter, I certainly don’t need to keep this body.” Hearing those words, I felt my heart had been shredded to pieces, the pain so intense I fell to my knees, unable to utter a sound. I humbly clutched at her trousers, begging her, pleading with her to give our child a proper burial. But for five years I couldn’t comfort my grieving Lily every night, and now I couldn’t even ensure her body remained intact. I watched as little Lily’s body was tossed onto the heap of corpses like a rag doll. I screamed uncontrollably at Jane, “That’s our daughter! The daughter you carried for nine months and gave birth to yourself! Now your childhood friend has killed her, and you won’t even give her a proper burial!” But no matter how much I screamed, my heart tearing itself apart, I couldn’t change the fact that my daughter’s body was left there. Seeing my daughter’s body lying amidst the pile of corpses, Jane frowned. She murmured, “How did they make it look so real? Brandon Sterling really went to a lot of trouble to try and make me back down. But does he really think I’d believe this is Lily’s body? It’s laughable.” Beside her, I screamed, my voice breaking, “I’m dead, Jane, I’ve been dead for a long time! That really is our daughter! I’m not lying to you!” But no one can hear the despair of a ghost. Jane glanced at Lily’s body a few more times, then turned and walked away. She didn’t know why, but looking at the “fake” body on the heap, she felt an uncomfortable pang in her chest. My soul uncontrollably followed her. In the car, she was gently replying to Julian’s messages. “Our son wants the latest toy? Then just buy it for him. It’s perfectly normal for a two-year-old to love toys.” My body stiffened. A son. So, in the five years since my death, she had already started a new life with her childhood friend and had another child. “Jane, what… what were you doing today?” Jane’s voice faltered for a moment before she continued, “Brandon Sterling hired someone to make a fake body to try and make me back down. It’s truly laughable.” Soon after, Julian’s voice came through. “He’s been gone for five years now, you can just file for divorce… When are you planning to marry me?” Jane didn’t hesitate for a second, directly refuting him. “Divorce? Brandon Sterling hasn’t returned all these years precisely because he wants to divorce me. How could I grant him his wish? I’ll give him another month. If he still doesn’t appear, I don’t mind making that ‘fake’ body real.” The malice in her voice made my body freeze. I knew her methods all too well. Now, I even felt a strange gratitude towards Julian. At least he ensured Lily’s death wasn’t prolonged. I couldn’t imagine what Jane would be capable of if she were the one to act. When they arrived and Jane got out of the car, I felt a jolt of recognition. This was our old home. The house she bought, the renovations I did. Back then, I’d held her and said, “This is in a good school district. Our child will go to school here someday. We’ll take her together.” Jane leaned into my arms and said yes. That happiness, now, seemed utterly fake. We had truly loved each other so much. “Jane, you’re back! Our son and I have been waiting for you.” The door opened, revealing that the house’s interior had been completely redecorated. A new partner and child had replaced our old life. Jane hugged Julian. The little chubby boy tugged at her hand, saying, “Mommy, why are you only hugging Daddy and not me?” Jane knelt down and hugged the little boy. “Better now?” Watching this scene unfold, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Why was my soul still bound to this world? Inside, Jane sat on the sofa, and Julian put his arm around her. “Jane, our son’s birthday is coming up soon. Let’s go abroad for a few days.” Jane frowned and refused. “No. This coming month, I’m waiting for Brandon Sterling to return. If he still doesn’t, I intend to send him a grand gift.” Everyone knew what that “grand gift” referred to. Lily’s body. At this moment, I felt a twisted sense of relief. Lily, it’s better not to stay in this world. How would it feel to see your own loving mother plot your murder? But when Ben heard her words, the smile on his face froze. “Jane, he’s been gone for five years. Why… why are you still waiting for him? And that little girl, since she’s in an orphanage, why don’t we just leave her alone?” Jane shook her head. “I’ll never let them go.” Ben saw Jane’s determined expression and swallowed the words he hadn’t spoken. I wanted to tell Jane that the man lying beside her had killed our daughter. I wondered what her expression would be. Perhaps joy. I remember the first time Ben appeared in my life. Jane had just given birth. I hired a nanny for her and immediately went back to work. Though I knew Jane had money, I felt a man shouldn’t spend his wife’s money. But I never imagined that while I was at work, another man moved into my home. And he even spread false rumors online, claiming all my achievements were earned through immoral means. Every night when I returned home, Jane would confront me with the news. I explained again and again that it was all false, that I hadn’t done those things. All my achievements were from my own hard work. How could I betray our marriage? But Jane still didn’t believe me, and the company fired me because of the rumors. The day I was fired, I came home with bags full of my belongings. The moment I walked in, I saw my wife holding hands with another man. Our daughter was crying nearby from hunger, and Jane didn’t even spare her a glance. For the first time in my life, I lost my temper at Jane. I threw the things in my arms to the floor. “What are you doing!” Jane and Ben were startled. Jane glanced at me, then frowned and said, “What? Did your sugar daddy dump you? Is it only okay for you to find someone, but not for me?” I pushed Ben away like a madman. “How do I have a sugar daddy? I told you, those are rumors! Rumors!” Jane looked at me and said, “Whether they’re rumors or if you’re lying to me, you know best. I just saw the video from Ben; you’re still trying to deceive me.” “Video?” I instinctively countered. I hadn’t done anything like that; how could there be a video? My mouth opened and closed. I knew that no matter how I explained, Jane wouldn’t believe me now. Ben gave me a defiant look and said, “Well, I’ll be going then.” After he left, I hugged Jane, speaking incoherently, “I… I really didn’t do anything like that, darling… Darling, please believe me just this once, okay? You… you break up with Ben.” As I said those words, I felt pathetic. Begging my own wife to break up with her lover. But I loved her too much, and our child had just been born. What would happen to her without a mother? Besides, my wife was being misled, so… I was willing to give her another chance. Jane broke free from my embrace, looking at me with narrowed eyes. “I can break up with Ben, but you’ll have to stay home from now on.” I froze. Was she planning for me to be a househusband? But seeing her determined expression, I still nodded. “Okay, I promise.” It didn’t matter. As long as Jane and our child were still with me, I was willing to do anything.

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My usually fastidious Ragdoll cat has been consistently peeing on my husband’s pillow lately. Scolding and even punishment didn’t work, and the vet found no issues. Desperate, I consulted a famous pet influencer online. After watching a video I sent, he messaged a single line: “The cat is marking its territory. Your man smells of a cat in heat, and your cat is threatening it by covering the scent with its own urine.” My heart sank. I cautiously asked my husband, who was washing the bedsheets, “Did you upset Muffin? Why does he only pee on your side, not mine?” His hands stiffened. He feigned composure. “Maybe it’s my mother visiting. She always has a strong dog smell about her.” I didn’t call him out. The next day, I went straight to his office. The moment I pushed open the door, I saw a young woman, a scholarship student we sponsored, cradling a cat and leaning against him coyly. “Mr. Kingston, my Mittens only stops meowing when you hold her. Please comfort her a little more.” Mystery solved. It wasn’t just the cat in heat. I walked over, smiling, and picked up the hot coffee from his desk. “So much discomfort. Let me help you cool down, sweetheart.” … The scalding Americano coffee splashed entirely onto Michael Kingston’s custom-tailored suit. He shot up from his executive chair. “Vivian… what brings you here?” His features contorted for a split second, clearly from the burn. Without bothering to wipe the mess from his suit, he strode over in two steps, trying to shield the young woman. “Don’t misunderstand, it’s really a misunderstanding. This is Jasmine, the scholarship student we sponsor, Jasmine Han. She found a stray cat and didn’t know how to care for it. The cat was in heat and meowing wildly, and she got scared, so she brought it to ask me.” Michael adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, speaking rapidly, his eyes avoiding mine. I didn’t look at him; my gaze swept past him to Jasmine in the corner. I remembered Jasmine; she was the prettiest among the many scholarship students. It was ironic; three years ago, she was digging coal with her father. Now, she was wearing a seasonal Chanel tweed dress. Hearing Michael’s words, she flinched, lowered her head, her long hair obscuring half her face. I walked towards her. Jasmine took a step back, her back pressing against the wall. I reached out, my fingertip hooking the silver necklace around her neck. The pendant was a small woven ball, stuffed with catnip. “This necklace, I bought it for my dog. Why is a person wearing it? What nonsense!” My fingers tightened, and I yanked hard. The delicate chain snapped, leaving a red mark on her pale neck. Jasmine gasped, clutching her throat. Tears streamed down her face, but she bit her lip, saying nothing. I tossed the necklace, still warm from her skin, into the nearby waste bin. “Darling, a Chanel dress isn’t something a scholarship can buy, is it?” My tone was calm, without inflection. “You’re about to graduate from university. I arranged an internship for you, paved the way for your career. Is this how you repay me? Coming into the CEO’s office to… well, heat up with a cat in heat?” Jasmine abruptly looked up at me, her eyes bloodshot, her mouth opening, then timidly glancing at Michael. Michael quickly interjected, “Vivian, why are you speaking so harshly? She’s just a young girl who doesn’t know any better; she got lost and came here. She’s always looked up to you as an idol, wanting to get close to us. There’s nothing terribly wrong with that.” He walked over and put his arm around my shoulder, pressing his palm firmly. “I’ll have someone escort her out right away. She won’t be allowed back. Darling, I swear, I only love you in this life.” I twisted away from his hand, took a wet wipe from my bag, and meticulously cleaned each finger that had touched the necklace. “No need for ‘later’.” I threw the wet wipe on the floor. “Notify HR. Jasmine Han’s internship is terminated. Her post-graduation job recommendations are also canceled. Since she loves caring for cats, she can go work at a pet store.” Michael’s face stiffened, but quickly returned to normal. He waved a hand at Jasmine. “Aren’t you going to thank Vivian for her guidance? Get out!” Jasmine bit her lower lip, her eyes watering as she glanced at Michael, then abandoning the cat, she scurried out of the office. Michael breathed a sigh of relief, thinking the matter was over. He let go of me and turned to the break room to find a spare pair of trousers. I straightened my collar and walked out of the office. Just as I was about to leave, I saw that same orange cat emerge from the general office area, a pair of fishnet stockings in its mouth. The curious employees who had been peeking out instantly recoiled. The entire office fell silent. Michael, having changed his trousers, came out just in time to see this. His reaction was lightning fast. In a few strides, he kicked the orange cat in the stomach. The cat shrieked, dropped the stockings, and darted out the door. Michael bent down, picked up the crumpled stockings, and tossed them into a waste bin. Then he pulled out his phone and dialed a number. The speakerphone was on. “Marcus! What the hell is wrong with you?” Michael roared into the phone, veins bulging on his neck. “I was kind enough to lend you my office for interviews, what are you doing bringing those random women in here? Things got left in my office, and now Vivian’s completely misunderstood! Get over here and explain yourself!” The other end was silent for a few seconds, then Marcus’s slurred laughter came through. “Oh, Michael, my apologies, my apologies. Had a bit too much to drink last night. Is Vivian there? Vivian, don’t be mad, it’s all my fault, won’t happen again, won’t happen again.” Michael hung up the phone, looking helplessly at me, spreading his hands. “See? I told you it was that jerk, Marcus. He’s been going wild lately with his wife divorcing him. I clearly picked the wrong friends. I’ll definitely give him a piece of my mind when I get back.” He walked over, took my hand, and kissed it. “Darling, don’t let outsiders ruin what we have. I’ll have HR process Jasmine’s termination immediately. Is that alright?” I pulled my hand away. “Fine. If it’s Marcus’s business, then let’s move on.” Michael visibly relaxed, immediately summoning administration and HR. In front of me, he processed Jasmine’s termination paperwork, even having security watch her pack her belongings and leave. Everything seemed professional and decisive. That evening, I had a spa appointment with Marcus’s wife, Gina. The scent of essential oils filled the room as Gina hummed contentedly on the massage bed. “Vivian, you’re just lucky. Michael is famously devoted to his family. Not like my deadbeat husband, useless at everything.” I closed my eyes, casually asking, “Marcus has been quite busy lately, hasn’t he? I heard he was working late at the office last night?” “Working late my ass!” Her voice was loud, and she suddenly sat up, her towel half-slipped. “My mother’s birthday was these past few days. He’s been at her old house in the countryside, slaughtering chickens for her! Last night he drank too much and threw up all over the bed, didn’t even know where he’d thrown his phone. I had to find it for him. He’s not going to the office until tomorrow. Is everything alright?” I opened my eyes, looking at the chandelier on the ceiling. Indeed, that scoundrel! Back home, Michael was in his study, reviewing reports. Seeing me enter, he took off his glasses and rubbed his temples. “Darling, you’re back? I warmed some milk for you.” A warm glass of milk sat on the table. I picked up the cup, my gaze sweeping over the open ledger. “The company’s entertainment expenses are quite high lately, aren’t they?” I asked casually. Michael’s hand paused, then he smoothly replied, “We’re negotiating that tech park project, you know. Entertaining clients and giving gifts is part of it. Once we land the project, this money will all be repaid twofold.” I nodded, carrying the milk away, but didn’t drink a drop. Back in the bedroom, I opened my laptop and pulled up the electronic statements for our family account. Michael was very cautious, deleting all obvious transfer records. But he made one oversight: he forgot that bank statements would show ATM withdrawal locations. For the past three months, even without any apparent entertainment expenses, his supplementary card had frequently been used to withdraw large amounts of cash from the same place: West Creek Gardens branch. That was the most expensive neighborhood near Jasmine’s university. Over the next week, Michael was impeccable. He came home promptly every day, turned down all social engagements, and even voluntarily took on the task of brushing Muffin’s fur. Muffin was my Ragdoll cat, whom I’d raised for five years, usually very clingy to Michael. But these past few days, whenever Michael approached, Muffin would puff up his fur, growling low in his throat, even trying to scratch him. “Is this cat sick? Such a temper.” Michael recoiled, looking at a red scratch on the back of his hand, frowning. “Maybe it’s shedding season. He’s in a bad mood.” I sat on the sofa, trimming flower branches, not looking up. When I left work on Friday, it suddenly poured rain. As I stepped out of the office building, I saw Michael’s car parked by the roadside, its hazard lights flashing in the downpour. He wasn’t carrying an umbrella; he clutched a brown paper bag and hurried towards me. The rain drenched his hair and shoulders, his suit clinging to him, making him look a bit disheveled. “Vivian!” He ran up to me, presenting the steaming paper bag like a treasure. “Freshly roasted chestnuts, from your favorite place. I queued for half an hour and kept them warm in my coat. They’re still hot.” I looked at his rain-streaked face, momentarily lost in thought. Ten years ago, we were like this too. We had just started our business, broke as can be. I worked late into the night, and he would wait downstairs for me, holding a bag of hot chestnuts just like this. Back then, we couldn’t even afford a car; we’d squeeze onto a second-hand electric scooter, sharing a bag of chestnuts. Though it was cold, our hearts were warm. Whenever I was upset, he would use this trick to comfort me. And I would always soften. “Get in quickly, don’t catch a cold.” Michael shielded my head with one hand, pulling open the car door with the other. The heater in the car was on full blast. He took a towel and gently wiped the raindrops from my hair. “Darling, try one. I specifically peeled it for you.” He offered me a golden chestnut. I took the chestnut but didn’t eat it. Using the interior reading light, my gaze fell on his hand, which he had just pulled back. Clamped between the index finger and thumb of his left hand was a single orange cat hair. Our Muffin is white. And in Michael’s office that day, the cat Jasmine was holding was an orange tabby. “Husband.” I squeezed the chestnut, my voice very soft. “You have another cat outside.” Michael, about to start the car, his hand suddenly jerked, almost dropping the keys. “Vivian, what are you talking about? Muffin is the only cat I have…” I raised my hand, holding up the orange cat hair I had pinched between my fingers, right in front of his eyes. “You’re truly disgusting.” Michael stared at the hair, his pupils constricting violently. He frantically grabbed a tissue to wipe his hand, rubbing so hard his skin turned red. “This… this is that… oh, right! I remember now!” He stammered an explanation. “When I was buying chestnuts just now, there was a stray cat by the roadside. I felt sorry for it and gave it some food. It must have gotten on me then. Vivian, you know I’m a clean freak. How could I possibly keep another cat? I’m going to wash my hands! I’m going to wash my hands right now!” He pushed open the car door, rushed into the rain, and ran to a public water tap by the roadside, furiously scrubbing his hands. His spare phone lay on the passenger seat. The screen lit up. A message popped up. The sender was labeled “Service Provider.” [The cage is rented. Your stray cat is too much trouble. The new cage cost tens of thousands. Bro, you owe me for this!] I looked at the line of text and smiled. Stray cat. Cage. Rental. Michael, you’re calling Jasmine a stray cat, and disguising your secret lover as a rented cage. Do you think this is still ten years ago, and I’m still that fool who could be placated with just a bag of chestnuts? It’s time for a clean break. I called my lawyer.

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After being bound by the “Soul-Swapping System” of the class beauty, I first took scissors and slashed my own flawless face. Then, with a swift, decisive chop, my left hand was severed. Finally, I leaped from the top floor, breaking both my legs, coughing up blood, and falling into unconsciousness. Soon after, our souls swapped, our bodies exchanged. My eyes glinted with venom: “You like swapping, do you? I’ll give you enough to last a lifetime.” 1 Right now, I sit before my vanity, looking at my own exquisite face in the mirror, weeping with joy. Everything feels so real. I know I have been reborn. The next second, my face contorts in sudden horror. “No, after being bound by the class beauty’s soul-swapping system, there’s no escape, no way to break free. I’m still destined to lose this body.” I look at the wall clock. Eleven o’clock sharp. Only one hour remains until my soul swaps with the class beauty. By then, this body of mine will, as in my previous life, become hers. Suddenly, I feel lost. The thought of the tragic fate I suffered after the soul swap in my past life sends shivers down my spine. “What should I do?” My heart is filled with despair. My unfocused gaze suddenly drifts to a family photo. In the picture, I sit in the center. My father, mother, and brother surround me. Our family smiles brightly, radiating immense happiness. However, when I see their faces, a cold dread seizes my entire being, chilling me more than the soul swap itself. In my previous life, after my soul was swapped with the class beauty, Alice Lin, I descended into utter madness. I rushed into my home in Alice’s body, accusing Alice of her crimes. I told them that I was Mom and Dad’s real daughter, my brother’s beloved sister. Unfortunately, I was violently thrown out. Of course, I didn’t give up. I pursued and confronted them again and again. Yet, I only received more merciless beatings. They called me a complete lunatic. Later, Alice, accompanied by my family’s bodyguards, cornered me in an alley and broke my legs. I screamed for them to just kill me. Alice’s foot pressed against my chest, her face contorted, teeth gritted. “No, Victoria Rodriguez, I want you to live, to watch me enjoy your wealth and prestige, to enjoy everything you have. I want you to live a lifetime of unbearable pain. Why are you the campus belle, and I’m just the class beauty? Why are you a wealthy heiress, and I’m a farmer’s daughter? Do you know? I hate seeing that aloof, nonchalant way you spend money, it irritates me so much I can’t sleep. But now everything you have is mine, hahaha.” I wailed, but no one pitied me. Alice’s parents took me to the hospital, caring for me meticulously, but I told them to get lost. A thought suddenly struck me, and I found Alice, who was occupying my body, threatening her: “Swap me back quickly, or I’ll torment your parents until they wish they were dead.” Alice burst out laughing: “Be my guest. Those poor parents are a disgrace to me anyway. Go on, go quickly. After you kill them, I promise not to call the police.” Hearing that, I fell into despair. At this point, I quickly opened the drawer. I pulled out a photo from my diary. In the photo, a handsome young man embraced me. His gaze towards me was tender and infatuated. Stephen Noth, my fiancé, my greatest love. But my eyes were filled with deep-seated hatred. “In my previous life, my death was truly horrific.” I stared intensely at Stephen Noth’s photo, my teeth grinding. I still remembered. When my brother threw me out of the Rodriguez family home once again, I was knocked unconscious. When I woke up, I was in a dark basement. I was terrified, but then I saw Stephen. I wept with joy then, pouring out my past to him, telling him the little secrets only we two shared, telling him that I was the true Rodriguez family heiress, begging him to help me. Stephen smiled slightly: “Of course, I know you are the real Victoria Rodriguez.” Just as I thought my ordeal was over, his tone shifted. “Do you think your parents don’t know? Do you think your brother doesn’t know? The current Victoria Rodriguez’s demeanor has plummeted, she can’t play the piano, she’s forgotten how to paint, her singing sounds like a duck. With such obvious abnormalities, how could they not notice? They’re not fools.” My expression was blank: “Then why don’t they acknowledge me?” Stephen calmly undressed, a sneer on his lips: “The marriage alliance between the Rodriguez family and the Noth family is paramount. Since Alice occupied your body, she got the benefit. But for me, conquering your soul is what matters most.” With that, amidst my screams and struggles, he defiled me. Thus, in that sunless basement, I endured Stephen’s endless humiliation and torment. Until one day. I saw my brother in the basement. I harbored one last hope, pleading with him for help. Because I never believed what Stephen said. I didn’t believe my biological parents and brother, after recognizing me, would still abandon me. But my brother was utterly indifferent, kicking me away: “Victoria Rodriguez, since your soul was swapped, that’s your destiny. You have to accept it. Whose soul occupies my sister’s body isn’t important. What matters is that her body can bring endless benefits to the Rodriguez family. So, serve Stephen well. Consider it another contribution to the Rodriguez family.” At this, my last shred of hope completely shattered. I began to refuse food and drink, like a living corpse, and was choked to death by an enraged Stephen. Memories faded. My heart, strangely, settled into peace. The excitement of newfound life vanished in an instant. “What good is it to break the soul-swapping system?” “Who would even care for such a family and fiancé?” My eyes were blank, devoid of any emotion. I glanced at the clock; it was close to midnight. Without a doubt, Alice Lin, the class beauty, was already waiting at the entrance of my villa. My lips curved into a smile: “You like swapping, do you? Then I’ll give you enough to last a lifetime.” My right hand had already found the scissors on the table. In the mirror, I looked at my beautiful face, without a hint of regret. The next moment. The sharp scissors plunged directly into my skin. Blood welled up, slowly flowing out. Intense pain coursed through me, but I didn’t utter a sound. Because this pain was trivial compared to the agony of my previous life, it barely registered on my numb nerves. A streak of blood appeared on my face as the scissors slid. I didn’t stop. One, two, three… Until my face was covered in blood and completely disfigured, only then did I stop. I smiled silently, the blood flowing even more profusely. I stood up and walked out of the room. The house was utterly silent. I walked from the fourth floor to the third. Hearing the sounds of intimacy from my brother’s room, my eyes remained indifferent, unmoved. Reaching the second floor, my parents were already sound asleep. I didn’t pause, walking to the first floor without a hint of lingering attachment. Blood continuously flowed, marking my path. I passed the maid’s room, entered the kitchen, and saw the cleaver hanging on the wall. Without hesitation, I took it down. Then I placed my left palm on the cutting board. The next second. My hand rose and fell. The cleaver flashed coldly. From top to bottom, it struck my palm with brutal force. In an instant, my left hand was severed at the wrist. Yes, the cleaver was very sharp, excellent quality. The gushing blood made my head spin. Feeling for a rag, I firmly pressed it against the severed limb. I bit my tongue, barely managing to regain a shred of consciousness. I began to return, slowly making my way back upstairs. Back in my room, I climbed onto the windowsill. I saw a familiar figure standing in the distant light. “Alice, you’re here.” I mumbled, an indescribable excitement in my voice. I looked back at the clock. Ten seconds left until midnight. No longer hesitating. I leaped from the window. My legs hit the ground, the brittle snap of bones piercingly loud in the darkness. Both legs shattered, left hand severed, face disfigured. This body, you’re going to love it. Then, I fell unconscious. My unconsciousness lasted less than a second. I felt my body lighten. My soul floated into the air. The intense pain in my body vanished. I saw my blood-soaked, unconscious self. I saw bodyguards from the shadows rushing frantically, shouting. In that instant, a pulling sensation came. My soul visibly entered Alice Lin’s body. I moved my hands, examined my new body, and smiled faintly. “It’s been a while.” The villa was now bustling with commotion. My parents’ wails and my brother’s cries echoed, one after another. I chuckled, turned, and walked away. In this life, though my soul has also been swapped, I want to live a completely different way. Of course, with the Rodriguez family’s immense wealth, I believe my original body will not die. Next, what I look forward to most is seeing Alice’s expression after she regains consciousness. I also anticipate how my parents and brother will treat this broken “Victoria Rodriguez.” As for Stephen Noth? You go around telling people you love me more than life itself. So, this ruined body, do you still like it? I left. Guided by the memories of my previous life, I arrived at Alice’s home. I took out the key, opened the door, and was met by two pairs of expectant eyes. “Alice…” They were a plain-looking, honest middle-aged couple. They both stood up simultaneously, looking at me cautiously, their gaze filled with apprehension and carefulness. These two were Alice’s biological parents. In my previous life, I had interacted with them. At that time, I had just had my legs broken, and they were weeping uncontrollably. They borrowed money everywhere to gather my medical expenses. Then, day and night, they guarded my hospital bed, never leaving my side. Even when faced with my insults and physical attacks, they never retorted or retaliated, tending to me without complaint. Until Stephen Noth captured me, I never saw them again. Alice’s family was from a rural area. Now, they rented a place in the city, both working in a nearby factory. Everything they did, I could see, was so Alice could study well. I could genuinely feel their selfless love for Alice. That’s why, in my previous life, I used them to threaten Alice. I never expected that Alice saw them as a disgrace, wishing I would kill them. Before I died in my last life, I thought of my parents’ and brother’s heartlessness. I also thought of the unconditional love Alice’s parents had for their daughter. The contrast between the two left an indescribable emotion accompanying me to my death. “Alice, are you hungry? Shall Mom make you a bowl of noodles?” Alice’s mother asked me, her face full of anxious concern. I looked up at her; she forced a smile, her eyes filled with care and anticipation. “Yes, I’m hungry.” I nodded. She immediately beamed with delight: “Good, good, good. Mom will go make it for you right away.” She joyfully bustled into the kitchen, as if she had received the greatest news. Alice’s father was the same, rushing to the refrigerator to pull out a bag of lychees. “Alice, these are the lychees Dad bought today. Come and eat them quickly; they’re chilled, so delicious.” I said nothing, took them, peeled them, and ate. Alice’s father immediately beamed, his smile wide. Clearly, Alice usually didn’t treat them well. Now, merely accepting their efforts made them seem overwhelmed with gratitude. At this moment, I understood Alice’s living environment even more deeply. Her parents’ love for her had no bottom line; it had reached a point where she could take whatever she wanted. Yet, she still disliked her parents, disliked them for being too poor. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Alice was the head of this household. Even a little kindness from Alice would make her parents deliriously happy. “It seems this family isn’t bad at all.” A thought came to me. I didn’t resist this feeling; in fact, I rather enjoyed it. I was indeed hungry and quickly finished eating. “Mom, this bowl of noodles is delicious.” This one sentence actually made Alice’s parents start wiping away tears. “As long as you like it, Mom will make it for you every day.” “Alice, as long as you don’t dislike me and your dad, we’re willing to do anything for you. We’ll work hard to earn more money, definitely buy you brand names, give you lots of pocket money, just give Mom and Dad a little more time, okay?” Alice’s mother opened up, speaking more and more excitedly, almost swearing to the heavens in the end. Alice’s father also nodded frequently beside her, genuinely sincere. I was torn between laughter and tears. It seemed this Alice was truly something; at merely a high school senior’s age, she had completely tamed her biological parents. My heart softened, and I shook my head. “No need. Work in moderation. Your health is most important.” With that, ignoring the stunned couple, I entered the room. After closing the door, I heard their excited crying. They kept saying, “Alice has finally grown up.” The crying soon faded. I knew they were afraid of disturbing my rest. The room had no luxurious decor, only cleanliness and neatness, which I found strangely appealing. I fell into a dreamless sleep. Because the past was dead, and the future was promising.

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Bound by a ruthless love for money, I was deaf to anything else. In any gathering I attended, the conversation invariably revolved around finance, never sentiment. On my eighteenth birthday, my family arranged a business marriage for me with a man worth billions. This fiancé, however, had a childhood confidante, a “best friend” by his side since forever. At a party, she held a wine glass, seemingly casually, and flaunted to me, “Vivian, John has an unlimited black card. The secondary card is always in my wallet.” A friend immediately yelped, “John, aren’t you being a bit too bold? Aren’t you afraid your official queen will get angry?” John scoffed, his gaze sweeping over me with disdain. “Her? She’s only after my money, isn’t she? Who she spends it on makes no difference.” At his words, the entire room erupted in laughter. I slammed my wine glass down, stood up, and walked over to him, my eyes cold. “You’re right. Who she spends it on makes no difference.” I pulled the primary card directly from his pocket. “I’m going to buy an entire building right now and see if it’s truly unlimited.” 1 I clutched the thin black card and turned to leave. Behind me, a deathly silence fell, followed by John’s exasperated roar. “Vivian Baranski, you stop right there!” I didn’t look back. My steps even quickened. The so-called friends in the grand hall, who had just been laughing, were now struck dumb. Especially Alice, I could see her pale face out of the corner of my eye. She probably expected me to cry, make a scene, or swallow my pride. Unfortunately, in my dictionary, there were never words like “injustice,” especially when money was involved. No one could tell me otherwise. I walked straight out of the brightly lit club. I pulled out my phone and called my father. “Dad, send our lawyer, Mr. King, to the Skyward Tower sales office.” My dad paused on the other end. “What trouble have you gotten into now?” “No trouble,” I said, my voice light. “Just buying a house.” I hung up, hailed a cab, and headed straight for the most expensive residential building in the city. “Skyward Tower,” two hundred thousand per square meter, was designed for anything but ordinary living. I walked into the opulent sales lobby, and a salesperson immediately approached me. “Miss, are you here to view a property?” Her scrutinizing glance flashed over me; she probably thought I was too young and not dressed like a wealthy woman. I didn’t bother with pleasantries, cutting straight to the chase: “Which is your most expensive unit?” The salesperson was taken aback but maintained her professional smile. “That would be the penthouse sky villa on the top floor, with 360-degree panoramic views and an infinity pool.” “What’s the discount?” I interrupted her. “We can offer you the maximum 5% discount, plus three parking spaces and a full smart home system.” I did some quick mental math. The total price for this unit would be around 120 million, and the discount would save me a few million. Not bad. “Card.” I slapped the black card on the table. “Charge it, full payment.” The entire sales lobby instantly fell silent. All the salespeople and customers looked over. The salesperson’s eyes widened, and she stammered, “M-Miss, are you sure?” “Do I look like I’m joking?” I raised an eyebrow. Just then, a commotion erupted at the entrance. John and Alice had arrived, chasing after me. His face was livid as he rushed over, trying to snatch the card from my hand. “Vivian, are you insane?!” I deftly sidestepped, avoiding his grasp. “Don’t be so hasty, Mr. Grenier,” I said, waving the black card in front of him. “Didn’t you say it makes no difference who spends it? I’m just helping you verify the truth of that statement, aren’t I?” “You!” He was too angry to speak. Alice quickly stepped in, playing the peacemaker, tugging at his arm and speaking softly. “John, don’t be angry. Vivian is just joking with you.” She then turned to me, her eyes red-rimmed, looking on the verge of tears. “Vivian, please, I beg you. It’s all my fault. I was thoughtless and made an inappropriate joke. John has already been scolded terribly by his parents because of this.” As she spoke, she made to bow in apology to me. I leaned back, avoiding her. “Don’t,” I held up my hand. “I can’t accept that. If you bow to me, I might think you’re lighting incense for me ahead of time.” Alice’s face was indescribably ugly. I took out my phone and played an audio file. “Vivian, John has an unlimited black card. The secondary card is always in my wallet.” Alice’s clear, boastful voice echoed in the living room. This was followed by the surrounding people’s surprised yelps and John’s dismissive “She’s only after my money, isn’t she?” Finally, the laughter of the entire room. I turned off the recording and looked at the two of them. “A joke, that led to everyone in the room humiliating me?” I stood up and walked towards them. “I’m a straightforward person. You say I’m a gold-digger? Fine, I’ll be a gold-digger for you to see.” John’s pupils contracted sharply. He probably hadn’t expected me to record it. Now, they couldn’t even use the excuse of “just joking.” His face turned utterly grim. “Vivian, don’t push your luck. You know what the marriage alliance between our two families means. Behave yourself. It’s better for everyone.” I smiled. “The alliance is for money, yes. And I’m currently very seriously pursuing money.” I looked at him and chuckled. “Or, we could be straightforward and simply cancel the engagement. I have no objections at all.” John’s expression froze. I, of course, knew he couldn’t cancel. The Grenier family had a major project recently, and they were waiting for our Baranski family’s investment to launch it. Canceling the engagement would immediately break their capital chain. He glared at me. Finally, he said nothing, dragged the still-stunned Alice, turned, and slammed the door shut as they left. I looked at the closed door, the smile on my lips deepening. This was just the beginning. As someone who transmigrated into this book, destined to be the stepping stone for their love, the villainess, I had no intention of following the plot. You’re the protagonists, aren’t you? Then let me see what you have left without the plot armor and the author’s bias. Things unfolded exactly as I expected. The Grenier family remained silent, implicitly accepting the fact that I had bought the building. John was probably given a harsh dressing-down by his father. As for me, I began to prepare for my next move. I had been in this book for some time now and knew the main plot inside and out. John Grenier and Alice White were the melodramatic protagonists of this story. He, domineering and deeply affectionate; she, kind and resilient. And I, I was the shallow and malicious fiancée destined to hinder their emotional development. According to the original plot, I would, out of jealousy, spill red wine on Alice at the engagement party, then be publicly humiliated by John, eventually abandoned by my family, and meet a miserable end. Alice, on the other hand, would not only use John’s money to save her family’s already bankrupt company but also leverage the charity foundation John established to earn herself a reputation as “beautiful and kind.” Ha, a charity foundation? That was nothing more than a tool they used to transfer assets, avoid taxes, and even launder money. I hired the most reputable private investigator in the industry. But I didn’t ask him to investigate John and Alice. Instead, I had him look into Alice’s father’s company and that so-called “Grenier-White Charity Foundation.” At the same time, I instructed him to anonymously “feed” all the information I found to a few sharp financial reporters. Having done all this, I calmly awaited the engagement party between our two families. That would be the stage to ignite everything. The engagement party was grand, a gathering of business elites. I wore a custom-made gown. John stood opposite me, his expression stiff, but he still managed a forced smile. Alice was also there. Today, she wore a white gown with light makeup, looking every bit the cunning ingénue. She sat at the main table as “John’s best friend,” her position even more prominent than some of the Grenier family’s relatives. She saw me and offered a “friendly” smile. I returned an even brighter one. The banquet proceeded as planned. During the media Q&A session, everything was still under control. Until a reporter wearing gold-rimmed glasses stood up. He was one of my people. “Mr. Grenier, hello. As is widely known, you are passionately involved in philanthropy at a young age, having established the Grenier-White Charity Foundation. Could you share your insights with us?” The question was positive and safe. John was clearly pleased. He took the microphone and began to speak eloquently. He talked about the foundation’s philosophy and his understanding of social responsibility. On the giant LED screen behind him, a promotional video for the foundation was playing. Just then, the screen suddenly “fizzed” and flickered. The promotional video disappeared. In its place were several clear screenshots of bank transfer records. Large sums of money, transaction after transaction, were transferred from the “Grenier-White Charity Foundation’s” account into a company account named “White Industries.” The total amount was in the hundreds of millions. The entire hall instantly erupted in an uproar. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on the screen, then collectively turned to the main table. White Industries, wasn’t that Alice’s family company? Using charity foundation money to fill your own company’s holes? This wasn’t just simple embezzlement; this was fraud! John’s speech abruptly stopped. He turned back stiffly, staring at the transfer records on the screen. And beside him, Alice’s “kind and innocent” face was now completely distorted. I raised my champagne flute and took a delicate sip. The show had only just begun.

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My wife and her lover lured me into a school overrun with zombies, planning to use me as food for them. Just as the zombies were about to tear me to pieces, I awakened the “Eternal Homeroom Teacher” System! As long as I played the role of a strict homeroom teacher and scolded the zombies, it would trigger the fear they once felt toward their elementary school teachers. They would obediently turn into well-behaved “students,” following every command I gave. When I finally returned with the entire school full of zombies and confronted my wife and her lover, they were completely stunned. The blood moon descended, and the zombie outbreak erupted without warning. Risking being devoured by zombies, I ventured out to search for my wife, Emma Snow. But she and her lover, Felix Stone, lured me with a single text message to the very heart of the zombie outbreak—the school. Now I’m trapped in an abandoned classroom, cornered by an entire class of zombies. They were all students here when they were alive. Now only tattered school uniforms hang from their rotting bodies. Their cloudy eyes fix on me, teeth bared, guttural groans rasping from deep in their throats. My back is pressed against the blackboard. My only weapon is half a broken mop handle. Watching the zombie horde closing in, despair soaks through me like ice water. “Emma Snow! Felix Stone! If I get out of here alive, I swear I’ll tear you both to pieces!” Bitter hatred floods my heart, but the mass of zombies pressing closer fills me with despair. Am I really going to die here like this, humiliated, devoured by zombies? 【Ding! Detecting host in desperate situation.】 【Eternal Homeroom Teacher System successfully activated!】 【This system aims to reform lost lambs through strictness and purify the world’s filth with discipline.】 【Please remember your teacher’s ethics and restore classroom order!】 What the hell? My mind is in chaos. It’s the apocalypse, and I get an education system? What use is that! Just then, a female zombie in a school uniform lunges at me, her reeking mouth wide open, about to bite my throat! In this critical moment, inspiration strikes. I think of the system. With nothing to lose, I sternly scold the female zombie: “Which class are you from?” “Didn’t you hear the class bell ring?” “How dare you act so unruly!” “Get back to your seat right now!” Time seems to freeze in that moment. The female zombie’s movements suddenly stop. Her gaping mouth slowly closes. In her cloudy eyes, a flash of something human appears—panic and confusion carved deep into her soul. Then… she actually lowers her head, drags her feet, and slowly shuffles back to an empty seat. She sits down obediently, even unconsciously placing her hands on the desk. 【Ding! Successfully intimidated lost student x1.】 【Teacher authority +1!】 【Rewarding beginner’s gift: Authority Pointer and Chalk of Discipline!】 The next second, a sleek black pointer materializes in my hand, heavy and solid. A full box of chalk appears on the podium. I’m shocked. This actually works? I take a deep breath, suppress my churning emotions, straighten my back, and slam the pointer hard on the podium! “Bang!” The sharp sound echoes through the dead-silent classroom. All the zombies tremble in unison, fear appearing on their faces in an almost human way. I scan the room like a real teacher examining undisciplined students: “Don’t you know it’s class time!” “Our class is the loudest in the entire building.” “Can you be quiet!” “Well? Why’d you stop talking!” “I’m holding a meeting up here while you hold little meetings down there, is that it?” “Where’s the class monitor?” “Stand up!” “And you few peeking in from the doorway—which class are you from?” “Wandering the hallways during class.” “What does that look like!” “All of you get in here and stand while you listen!” “Look at me!” “Why are you looking at them?” “Listen to me!” These words strike directly at their souls!

The zombies all show fear, then begin shuffling their feet, swaying as they enter the classroom, jostling each other to find their seats. The few zombies caught peeking shrink their necks and obediently squeeze to the back of the classroom, not daring to sit, automatically standing as punishment. 【Ding! Successfully intimidated lost students x12.】 【Teacher authority +12!】 I look at this group of increasingly docile students, then glance out the window at the ruined apocalyptic wasteland. An uncontrollable smile, tinged with madness, curves my lips. Emma Snow, Felix Stone… you never expected this, did you? Not only did I survive, but I now have a class full of zombie students. Just wait. I’ll bring my students to settle this score with you properly! Burning for revenge, I want to lead this zombie class to find that cheating couple right now. However, just as I step out of the classroom, the system suddenly issues a warning. Beep! 【Warning! As an ordinary teacher, host’s authority is below 100.】 【After taking students out of the classroom, you will be unable to control their behavior!】 【When host’s authority reaches 100, ordinary teacher will be promoted to homeroom teacher.】 【Host can freely take direct students out of the classroom.】 【When authority reaches 500, “Homeroom Teacher Intimidation Field” can be deployed.】 【Within a 500-meter radius, all zombies can feel the homeroom teacher’s authority and will be suppressed!】 I see! So that’s how authority works! I was too impulsive just now! I must quickly raise my authority to 100—no, to be safe, straight to 500. Otherwise, with countless zombies outside the school, relying only on my homeroom teacher status and the zombie students in this school won’t be enough to guarantee my safety. I need the intimidation field for critical moments! Just then, a giant zombie nearly two meters tall charges toward me. It’s incredibly fast, sending student zombies flying as they block its path! In the blink of an eye, the giant zombie reaches me and lunges! My anger has nowhere to vent. I stride back into the classroom and whip the pointer down on the podium with all my strength! “Crack!” I glare, pointing at the giant zombie and roaring: “Who gave you permission to run around outside during class time!” “Which class are you from?” “Are the school hallways meant for students to run and roughhouse?” “Charging around recklessly—this is completely unacceptable!!” The giant zombie’s body shudders violently. Deep, bone-level panic and fear—the kind students feel facing a stern teacher—appears on its face. Its crimson eyes don’t even dare meet mine. It lowers its head, at a loss. I fix my gaze on the giant zombie. With its large build, it shouldn’t be a student. Could it be a parent? “Even after graduating, you still give me this much trouble!” “Is this how I taught you?” “Respecting teachers, caring for the young—where did all your basic manners go?” “Look what you’ve done!” I point to the student zombies with mangled limbs from being knocked aside. “Hold out your hand!” The giant zombie’s body trembles violently. Shaking, it extends its huge, rotting palm—the size of a fan—before me. Without mercy, I raise the pointer and strike down hard on its palm! “Ahhh—!” The giant zombie releases an inhuman howl of pain. Its massive body shakes violently, and a clear scorch mark appears on its palm! It seems this pointer not only increases authority but can also inflict real harm and pain on zombies!

After five consecutive strikes, the giant zombie has collapsed to its knees, clutching its palm covered in black scorch marks, whimpering. All its previous ferocity is gone. I snort coldly, withdraw the pointer, and glare viciously at the trembling student zombies around me: “And you lot!” “Urgh!” The zombies all jolt at once. Their hunched bodies immediately straighten. They even suppress the gurgling sounds in their throats, terrified they’ll be next. I coldly survey this cowed group of zombies: “You are the worst class I’ve ever taught!” “Not listening during class is one thing, but you dare gang up to chase your teacher?” “Lawless!” “Believe me, I’ll call your parents right now!” “All of you face the wall and reflect!” “Think hard about your mistakes!” My pointer indicates the blank classroom wall. The zombies, as if granted amnesty, quickly line up in rows against the wall, facing it, not daring any movement. 【Ding! Successfully intimidated lost student x1.】 【Teacher authority +1!】 Still too slow! I’ve extracted most of this classroom’s potential. I need to take the initiative. I take a deep breath and stride out of the classroom with purpose. Target—the first floor with the densest zombie concentration! The first floor has at least a hundred zombies gathered. Unlike the upper floors dominated by student zombies, the zombies here wear various clothing and mostly appear to be adults—clearly parents who once came to pick up children or handle school business. Their crimson eyes lock onto me. They release more frenzied roars, swarming toward me with bared teeth and claws, far more intimidating than the student zombies! I remain calm, quickly retreating into the nearest empty classroom, raising my pointer and shouting outside: “Don’t you know it’s class time?” “Your children are studying peacefully inside, and you parents are making a racket outside, baring your teeth and claws—what does that look like!” “Do you still want your kids to get into college or not?” These words hit like precision mental strikes. The effect is immediate! The parent zombies in front screech to a halt. The violent expressions on their faces freeze instantly, then transform into a mixture of terror, confusion, and the bone-deep anxiety parents feel about their children’s education. In their crimson eyes, they actually squeeze out a hint of human-like servility and flattery. “Urgh…” A middle-aged male zombie even instinctively performs a clumsy, almost fawning bow toward me. The other parent zombies follow suit! Seeing the moment is right, I soften my tone slightly but maintain an unquestionable commanding manner: “If you want your children to continue their education and make something of themselves in the future, then get in here, sit down properly, and I’ll hold a parent meeting for you shortly!” Before I finish speaking, this group of parent zombies—so savage just moments ago—eagerly swarm into the classroom, carefully searching for seats, then sitting down properly. 【Ding! Successfully intimidated lost students x83.】 【Teacher authority +83!】 The pleasant system notification sounds. Success! Having tasted victory, I don’t linger. Using the same method, I move between different floors and classrooms of the teaching building, recruiting the wandering and hiding zombies of all types one by one. 【Ding! Successfully intimidated lost students x38.】 【Teacher authority +38!】 【Ding! Successfully intimidated lost students x144.】 【Teacher authority +144!】 … 【Ding! Congratulations, host’s authority has reached 500!】 【Successfully unlocked Homeroom Teacher Intimidation Field!】 Yes! Finally! Emma Snow, Felix Stone… I’m bringing my zombies to find you now!

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Marcus wanted to go to headquarters for advanced training and asked me to temporarily take over his work. When I refused, he started making things difficult for me. For five straight months, I worked overtime without a single day off. It drained all my energy and even ruined my relationship. I finally snapped and texted my best friend during a meeting: “I honestly don’t know how he can pretend so well.” The moment I realized I’d accidentally sent it to the wrong person, I looked up at his increasingly dark expression. My mind short-circuited, and before I could stop myself, I added another message: “But somehow, you still can’t pretend to keep me in your heart.” I woke up in the infirmary. The smell of disinfectant mixed with Marcus’s crisp sandalwood scent, flooding my nostrils together. I snapped my eyes open to meet his unfathomably deep gaze. He was sitting by the bed, his suit jacket perfectly pressed, though the look behind his glasses carried a hint of scrutiny. “Awake?” His voice was low, emotionless. Those two death-wish messages from the meeting room instantly came flooding back. I remembered how he’d stared at me in shock, while the surrounding colleagues all turned to gawk at me with their gossip-hungry faces. In my panic, I’d shot up suddenly, which triggered my low blood sugar. My vision went black and I fainted. I jolted upright, my brain racing. “Mr. Marcus, I… that was…” That was because I got my head caught in a door, got my brain zapped by lightning! “Your true feelings?” He cut me off, his tone flat but sending a chill down my spine. True feelings? Truly calling him pretentious, or truly wanting him to pretend his way into my heart? Either one was a death sentence. Could I really tell him the truth—that my stupid mouth was just used to trading cheesy lines with my best friend? I opened my mouth but couldn’t squeeze out a single word. Finally, I just buried my head in my knees and played dead. “Susanna.” He called my name. The volume wasn’t loud, but the pressure was overwhelming. “Don’t you have anything you want to say to me?” I jerked my head up and forced out a smile uglier than crying: “Mr. Marcus, I just admire you so much that I got overexcited and started talking nonsense. Please don’t take it seriously!” He said nothing, just looked at me quietly. That gaze seemed to pierce through my skull and see every thought in my head. Just as I was about to faint again from his staring, he finally spoke. “Rest well.” With that, he stood up, straightened his already wrinkle-free cuffs, and left the infirmary. I let out a long breath and collapsed back onto the bed. I survived. I thought this incident would blow over like a passing breeze. But I underestimated the speed and power of workplace gossip. The next day, when I walked into the office with dark circles under my eyes, I was greeted by knowing looks from all directions. “Susanna, wow! You’ve been hiding your talents!” “Right? You always seem so quiet, but you’re brave enough to go after King Marcus!” “Tell us, what happened? Did he accept?” My colleagues surrounded my desk, every face screaming “Spill the tea!” I was speechless, could only laugh awkwardly: “It’s a misunderstanding, all a misunderstanding.” No one believed me. My best friend Lily sent me a message: “You’re famous. I heard you confessed to Marcus in front of everyone and he didn’t reject you?” I was near tears: “I sent the message to the wrong person! I meant to send it to you.” Lily: “Then how do you explain the second message? Can’t pretend to keep you in his heart? Susanna, did overtime scramble your brain?” Me: “…My fingers moved faster than my brain!” No one believed me, including myself. What was more terrifying was Marcus’s attitude. He never asked me to work overtime again. Not even once. In fact, one time near the end of work hours, he deliberately walked over to my desk and tapped on it. “If there’s nothing urgent, leave on time.” Everyone in the office instantly gave me looks that screamed “shipping it.” I froze in place, watching him walk away. This was unbearable. For a whole week, I enjoyed the divine treatment of nine-to-five hours with full weekends off. The price? I became the focus of the entire company. Everyone looked at me like they were looking at the future boss’s wife. Even the tea room lady, when making my coffee, would add an extra spoonful of sugar and say with a smile: “Susanna dear, get some extra sugar. Dating takes brain power.” I was going crazy. That night, I tossed and turned in bed, my mind full of Marcus’s expressionless face and my colleagues’ knowing smiles. I couldn’t just sit here and wait for death. The grudge from five months of overtime had to be settled. The resentment from my breakup had to be vented. I sprang up from bed and opened a delivery app.

In the search box, I viciously typed two words: beat someone up. The page loaded, showing a bunch of merchants offering “sparring practice” and “boxing experience.” I randomly clicked on one. The avatar was a delivery guy wearing a helmet. I got straight to the point: “Hi, I want to hire someone to beat up my boss. Male, about six foot one, looks pretty built.” The other side replied instantly: “…” I added: “Money is no object.” After a few seconds, they sent a long voice message. I clicked it open. A voice full of positive energy came through: “Hiring someone to hurt people is illegal! You’ll go to jail! It’s not worth throwing yourself away over some boss.” “Listen to my advice—there are plenty of fish in the sea. Why fixate on one? Change jobs, start a new life! Look on the bright side!” Me: “…” A kind-hearted delivery driver. I silently closed the app. Beating him up was out. But his words gave me an idea. Since Marcus was afraid of romantic scandals, I might as well make this scandal a reality! He wanted a promotion to headquarters, right? At this critical juncture, the last thing he’d want was unclear relations with a subordinate. As long as I made my “pursuit” obvious and foolish enough that everyone knew about it, he’d definitely avoid me to prevent suspicion. When that happened, forget making things difficult for me—he probably wouldn’t even want to see me. I’m a genius! A perfect revenge plan rose up in my mind. Step one of the plan was to make my “crush” even more widely known. I needed a platform. So I posted on the company’s internal forum, in the anonymous section. Title: “Help! How do I pursue that handsome, aloof boss in our department?” I wrote the main post with heartfelt sincerity, tears in every word, portraying myself as a humble little employee madly in love and recklessly brave. To add authenticity, I subtly mentioned a few of Marcus’s habits that only our department would know, like how he only drank pour-over black coffee and liked to tap his knuckles on the table during meetings. As soon as I posted it, it exploded. “Is the OP Susanna from the Planning Department? Front row for the gossip!” “Wow, is this the warrior who confessed publicly? I salute you!” “Mr. Marcus is such an iceberg—probably hard to melt. Good luck, OP!” Watching the replies grow rapidly, I smiled with satisfaction. The buzz was there. Next came the actual action. Netizens flooded me with advice. The top comment said: “If you want to capture a man’s heart, first capture his stomach! Send him a love bento!” Good idea. The next day, I got up early and spent two hours in the kitchen, producing a bento box with… extremely abstract presentation. I tried hard to shape the rice into a heart but ended up with an unnameable blob. The broccoli was overcooked, yellow like autumn grass. The only meat dish was pan-seared chicken breast, black as charcoal. I looked at my masterpiece and fell silent. Whatever. It’s the thought that counts. Besides, I was afraid if I made it too good, it might actually reach his heart. After all, I just wanted to disgust him. I packed up the bento and brought it to the company. At noon, while Marcus was in a meeting, I snuck the bento onto his desk and stuck on a note with a giant heart. After doing all this, I slunk back to my seat like a thief. I waited for him to come back, see this “love” bento, and throw it in the trash with a disgusted look. However, when he returned, he just calmly glanced at the bento box, picked it up, and walked into his private office. All afternoon, there was no movement. I sat restlessly, frequently glancing at that closed door. Did he eat it? No way. Even a dog would shake its head at that thing.

Near the end of work, Marcus’s office door finally opened. He walked out holding the now-empty bento box. He walked straight to my desk and placed the freshly washed container on my table. “Thank you.” He looked at me, his tone still flat. “It tasted good, just a bit salty.” I was completely stunned. He not only ate it but washed the box and even gave me feedback on the taste? This wasn’t the script! Didn’t he hate stupid people the most? Before, when I made even the tiniest mistake at work, he’d publicly criticize me, looking at me like I was an idiot—I could still picture that expression. Shouldn’t he be avoiding me like the plague? The surrounding colleagues started whispering again, their eyes burning with gossip fire. “Oh my God, Mr. Marcus actually ate the lunch she made!” “And washed the box! What kind of plot twist is this!” “Locked in! I’m shipping this couple to death!” I felt my face burning. Not from embarrassment—from anger. Marcus! What are you trying to do! Step one of the plan: total failure. I refused to give up. That night at home, I kept scrolling through the forum. The second top comment: “Create coincidental meetings! Make him think you’re destined!” Okay, coincidental meetings. I found out from a colleague that Marcus had a habit of night running, usually at 8 PM, at Riverside Park near the company. The next evening at 7:50, I changed into full workout gear and showed up at the park entrance right on time. I pretended to stretch while looking around. At 8:10, a tall figure came running from the distance. It was him! I immediately adjusted my breathing, struck my most graceful running pose, and ran toward him. When I was about three meters away, I deliberately “twisted” my ankle and weakly fell toward him. According to my plan, he’d instinctively dodge, and I’d spectacularly fall in front of him, staging a bit of self-inflicted suffering to make him think I was a clumsy troublemaker. But I didn’t expect that not only would he not dodge, he’d steadily extend his arm and catch me in his embrace. My face slammed solidly into his hard chest. My nose bridge nearly broke on the spot. A strong masculine scent mixed with the smell of sweat surrounded me. “Are you okay?” His voice came from above my head, carrying a hint of post-exercise breathlessness that sounded… kind of sexy. I shoved him away hard and backed up two steps, covering my nose. “I-I’m fine, thank you, Mr.—” “Call me Marcus.” He interrupted me. I froze. He looked at me. In the darkness, his eyes shone brighter than starlight. “Outside the company, you don’t need to be so formal.” My heartbeat skipped. The plan failed again. Not only did I fail to make him dislike me, I actually made him tell me to use his first name. I trudged home dejectedly and buried my face in the couch. Lily called: “How’d it go, my hero? What scene did you perform today?” I told her about the park “coincidence.” She laughed so hard she couldn’t sit straight. “Susanna, oh Susanna, are you sure you’re taking revenge on him and not pursuing him with rom-com tactics?” “First the lunch delivery, then fake falling—what’s next, standing in the rain to get sick so he’ll take you to the hospital?” I was speechless at her roast. “I’m telling you, guys like Marcus are secretly passionate. The more proactive you are, the more interesting he finds you. You’re basically playing with fire.” “Then what should I do?” I asked desperately. “Deal with it.” Lily gloated. “Unless you rush to him right now and tell him you’ve been acting this whole time and you actually can’t stand him.” I fell silent. I didn’t dare. I was afraid that the moment I said it, he’d make me re-experience the joy of five straight months of overtime. After hanging up, I opened that help thread again. The post had over a thousand replies now. The netizens’ enthusiasm exceeded my imagination. The latest top comment offered me a new tactic, with stratospheric popularity. I perked up, but after reading it, I fell completely silent.

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My husband, Vincent Smith, has fallen in love. Only this time, his girlfriend is rather disobedient—she actually came before me to provoke: “Miss Harper, you and Vincent are just an arranged marriage. I’m his true love.” I smiled faintly, extended my slender fingers, and forcefully yanked the Bulgari necklace from her neck. Vincent witnessed this scene, his lips pressing into a thin line. Joanna bit her lip coyly: “Vincent, Miss Harper took the gift you gave me.” Vincent glanced at the necklace in my hand and tossed it into the trash without hesitation. Then he scolded his girlfriend: “Joanna, who gave you the audacity to disturb my wife?” Joanna stared at him in shock, tears streaming down her face. I watched coldly, finding it rather amusing. When Joanna was led away by Vincent’s assistant, she seemed full of grievances and questions. She probably couldn’t understand why the man who had whispered sweet nothings to her in bed yesterday became cold and heartless today. Vincent’s attentiveness toward me wasn’t just for show. When he took my hand, he immediately noticed the faint marks on my fingertips, kissing them tenderly over and over. “Harper, you’re hurt.” I didn’t look at Vincent. He and I had grown up together, childhood sweethearts. He wasn’t a gentle gentleman by nature, yet with me he was tender and restrained. In families like ours, couples who play around separately are common, but I was the one he pursued relentlessly. When the Harper and Smith families arranged our marriage, my cousin Vivian couldn’t hide her envy. Vivian said that in wealthy families, there’s no such thing as true love. But Vivian had seen Vincent hold an umbrella for me, seen him so nervous his hands trembled when he proposed, seen him choke up with emotion as he took his vows at our wedding. Yet, I wasn’t his only woman. Vincent made dinner. For such a successful businessman to cook personally was truly rare. Even my demanding parents praised him repeatedly. The young ladies in our social circle seemed quite envious that I could possess Vincent’s eternal favor. Just because I’m allergic to willow and poplar catkins, Vincent could ensure the entire city would never see another willow or poplar tree. He carefully tossed the salad for me, then placed it before me. I thanked him politely. During dinner, his phone screen kept vibrating. I glanced at it unconsciously. When he realized I was looking at his phone, he handed it to me without hesitation. “Harper, you’re actually taking an interest in me.” Vincent never hid his kept mistresses from me. Perhaps because no husband around us was more responsible than him. Even my parents were no exception—they each played around, and my father’s illegitimate sons could form a soccer team. My mother had her uterus removed due to an accident and couldn’t give my father a son. The two of them selected an illegitimate son to inherit the company. That illegitimate son was very respectful toward my mother and quite caring toward me. I took the phone. Sure enough, Joanna was already deleted from his Instagram. After all, having offended me, she would probably never return to the capital in this lifetime. Scrolling further down, I saw Amanda Brown. A female celebrity, also the only mistress who had stayed by Vincent’s side for over three years. I’d met her before—indeed, she was obedient and humble. When she encountered me, she was always careful, never overstepping. Vincent was very satisfied with her discretion and would give her resources from time to time. Her career was developing smoothly now. I’d even seen her at a fashion show last weekend. I had attended with Vincent, in my capacity as Mrs. Smith. Amanda walked the red carpet gracefully in the brand’s haute couture. She nodded to me gently in acknowledgment. She was very tactful, didn’t linger, and didn’t exchange any words with Vincent in my presence. That evening, Vincent seemed to notice the displeasure in my eyes and leaned close to my ear, whispering: “You don’t like her? Then I won’t see her anymore.” The sincerity in his words was unmistakable. What I disliked, he never pursued. I shook my head and laughed: “Vincent, I’m not that unreasonable.” Vincent pulled me close by the waist. Despite the noise around us, his voice was tender: “Harper, let’s have a child.” I said nothing, just quietly looked at myself reflected in his pupils.

That evening, Vincent didn’t come home as usual. He said he had business. I nodded calmly and watched his Maybach drive into the distance. Half an hour later, Vivian sent a voice message: “I think I saw your husband with mine at a nightclub. I saw several girls with them, but don’t worry—your husband has a cleanliness obsession, he usually only plays with virgins.” I removed my wedding ring and asked slowly: “Which boyfriend are you drinking with?” Vivian laughed cheerfully: “What boyfriend? Just a male model. Harper, you should learn from me. It’s better when couples each do their own thing. I’ve invited you to come play before, but you always refuse. Let me be real with you—when only one person in a marriage cheats, things will go wrong.” I didn’t respond. She continued laughing and persuading me: “Harper, I know what you really want. But you need to understand, as long as men have money, women swarm to them. With fresh young girls all around, wanting them to stay faithful is impossible.” “I haven’t stayed faithful either,” I said gently. Vivian’s mouth dropped open in surprise, asking with great interest: “Damn, look at you! You’ve been sleeping with someone behind my back! Who is it? Do I know him? Does your husband know? Tell me quick.” Just as I was about to answer, I heard knocking at the door. I smiled and hung up decisively. I sat on the living room sofa, looking toward the entrance. Adrian Martin opened the shoe cabinet familiarly, removed his coat, and walked toward the kitchen. He curved his lips and raised the lunch box in his hand, nodding at me. I met Adrian on a snowy winter night—the first time I learned of Vincent’s infidelity. I stood under the streetlamp as snowflakes mixed with tears fell continuously. When in love, I had invested all my emotions, full of expectations for marriage. Suddenly learning of his affair, I was both disappointed and furious. But I’d seen plenty of similar situations. Friends, family, including my parents, all provided less than ideal examples. For a long time, I wondered if I was the one out of step. Even my cousin Vivian, who understood me best, saw my dejected state and showed incomprehension in her eyes: “Harper, the Smith family enterprise is worth hundreds of billions. Vincent isn’t just the Smith family leader, he’s also an outstanding talent among his peers. With such background and status, it would be strange if he didn’t keep a few women.” Men’s infidelity seemed trivial in their eyes. But I was angry and tormented, yet couldn’t vent, because I’d seen Vivian’s heartbroken expression. Later she often sought thrills outside too—at first to vent, later becoming addicted. That evening, Adrian held an umbrella in the snow, slowly walking toward me. He was tall and well-built, his eyes sparkling like stars when he smiled. I lowered my head, telling him to leave. But he acted as if he hadn’t heard, simply wanting to hand me the umbrella. I directed all my fury at him, yet Adrian just gazed at me tenderly. I suddenly fell silent. After a long while, he finally chuckled softly: “Today is Christmas Eve. I wish you peace and joy.” I felt very ashamed that I had vented at such a stranger. I saw him again the following spring. I was attending as a sponsor of a film festival. During the awards ceremony, I saw him. He won the Best Newcomer award at that festival and took photos with me. Later this photo trended on social media, and people started shipping us as a couple. When my assistant asked if we should handle the public opinion, looking at his aloof expression in the photo, somehow I chose not to. In the end, I even had someone send him some film and television resources.

The third time we met, he was filming a commercial. After it ended, Adrian walked over to greet me. He smiled: “Hello, I’m Adrian Martin. Nice to meet you again.” He looked at me calmly, and in that instant, I suddenly realized—he didn’t know who I was. He had forgotten I was that woman who lost control in the snow that night. After that, I often appeared around Adrian. At first, I was just curious about him, perhaps because I rarely encountered such pure people. It might also be that when wealth accumulates to a certain degree, life becomes empty and one needs to find some interest. At that time, Vincent had met a new girlfriend, a straightforward and sincere girl, passionate as fire. He seemed quite infatuated with that girl then, somewhat addicted, and I rarely saw him. He even occasionally let things slip in front of me. I suppressed my anger, controlled my emotions, quietly playing the role of Mrs. Smith. Vincent put his arm around my shoulder: “Harper, they’re different from you. To me, you’re irreplaceable.” Of course, I understood what that meant, and I believed he was telling the truth. I never doubted anything he said to me. Because our backgrounds were similar, our interests aligned, and we had once been in love. Adrian was shy by nature, following rules and conventions. Before I even realized it, he had already fallen for me. Because every time he saw me, his eyes seemed filled with clear springs. Later I went to visit him on set, and we played together in a nearby town. It happened to be summer. We walked shoulder to shoulder through a small alley. At the end of the alley, close to a small river, boats passed by. That day, under the setting sun, sunlight danced on his hair, and the sound of flowing water filled my ears. Adrian reached out and supported my shoulder, his palm warm. In the moment I was lost in thought, he lowered his head and softly said something. When I came back to my senses and asked what he’d just said, Adrian just shook his head gently. Later, when I returned home and stood on the balcony watering flowers, I suddenly smiled. Actually, I had heard what he said that day. If I hadn’t misheard, his words should have been: “I like you.” But I felt ashamed. Because he didn’t know I was already married. After we became familiar, Adrian learned about my chronic insomnia and would come to the villa to tell me stories whenever he was free. We never had excessive intimacy. I hadn’t erased Vincent’s traces in this home. Interestingly enough, Vincent actually didn’t leave many traces in this house. Probably because he was always busy outside. After dinner, Adrian and I watched a movie on the sofa. I kissed the corner of his lips. His voice trembled: “Harper…” An impulse surged in my heart: “Adrian, do you like me?” In an instant. Even his ears turned red.

I didn’t expect Vincent to suddenly come home. At that moment, I was wearing a soft shawl, reading the script Adrian had left behind by the window. He knocked on the door first, and only after confirming I was alone did he walk in quietly. He casually loosened the tie around his neck, his tone gentle: “Sorry, Harper, I didn’t tell you in advance. Actually, I was with Maxwell today.” Maxwell was Vivian’s husband. I had no fondness for him. I put down the script and smiled faintly: “It’s fine.” Vincent reached out to hug me, but he probably realized he carried another woman’s scent, so ultimately he just gently held my hand: “I’ll go take a shower. You should rest early too.” As he turned, he saw the lilies in the bedroom, then asked: “Harper, I remember there were no lilies in the house when I left. Did you have someone buy them?” Although he knew I didn’t like having fresh flowers in the bedroom, there had never been any before. So who had bought and arranged flowers after he left? He still considerately gave me an excuse. I only needed to go along with it, and perhaps on the surface, we could return to our previous life. “Vincent, when my cousin called me, you heard it from nearby, didn’t you?” I curved my lips and looked directly into his eyes: “That’s why you rushed back in such a hurry.” Hearing my words, Vincent’s pupils darkened like an abyss. He threw the flowers into the trash. I stood up and took out the shawl, draping it over my shoulders. Wind howled, rain beat against the window. Making both our faces appear somewhat pale. After a long while, Vincent raised his eyes to look at me again. He had already reined in all his emotions and turned to get a glass from the wine cabinet. He filled it and drank it all in one gulp, only then slightly calming the irritation in his heart. He asked me when I’d gotten a boyfriend. I answered honestly. Vincent’s brows furrowed tightly. For a long time, he slowly exhaled: “Harper, I thought you were different.”

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My ex-husband Johnson, who I’d been divorced from for five years, sent me a message saying our child missed me and wouldn’t stop crying. In a moment of weakness, I bought a plane ticket and came back. The moment I walked through the door, I found Johnson holding his wife, grinning smugly. “Marta knows I have an ex-wife. She got jealous and insisted I call you back here to punish you.” Johnson knew full well I was allergic to seafood, yet he had someone place a basin of shrimp in front of me and told me to peel all of it. My son, whom I hadn’t seen in five years, chimed in, “You may have given birth to me, but Marta is my mom. You’re nothing but a nanny.” What the hell were these idiots thinking? Couldn’t they see I was already married? Seeing me standing there motionless, Marta slammed her knife and fork heavily onto the table. “Why isn’t she moving? Didn’t you say your ex-wife was obedient? That she wouldn’t dare go west if you told her to go east?” “Don’t be angry, Marta. She’s just slow to react, hasn’t processed it yet.” Johnson said softly before turning to me. “Peel the shrimp.” Just like he’d ordered me around five years ago. The child beside him—my son, whom I’d carried for ten months and struggled to bring into this world—stood on his chair and spoke to me in the same commanding tone as his father. “Didn’t you hear my mom wants to eat shrimp? Hurry up and peel them!” I couldn’t help but find it laughable. “I never should have come back to see you people. You disgust me so much I want to throw up.” After saying that, I took out my phone to make a call, but a bodyguard nearby snatched it away and threw it on the floor. In an instant, my phone shattered into pieces. “What are you doing?!” I frowned, stunned by this operation. “Marta said you’re staying here for three days to be properly punished until she calms down. Don’t contact the outside world for these three days. We’ll send you away when the time comes.” Johnson’s voice was calm as he placed a peeled shrimp into Marta’s mouth. When it came to matters concerning me, he never asked for my consent—not five years ago, and not now. “I’m already married, Johnson.” I looked at him, raising my hand to show them the ring on my ring finger. Under the lights, it sparkled brilliantly—a diamond the size of a pigeon’s egg, glittering endlessly. Johnson stared at my face for a moment, then sneered. “Don’t try to fool me with such a clumsy lie. Everyone knows you’re damaged goods that I, Johnson, threw away. Who would want you?” Marta laughed too. “Listen, stop trying to fool people with a fake ring, okay? There’s only one pink diamond ring this big that I know of, and it was bought by some mysterious tycoon. Are you telling me that mysterious tycoon is you?” “Not me. My husband.” Marta laughed even louder, pointing at my nose. “You? Someone would want you? A second marriage? Please, do you even think before you speak? Besides, that mysterious tycoon isn’t even in Minnesota.” “Come peel the shrimp. Don’t make me say it twice.” Johnson grabbed my wrist and pressed me down into the chair in front of the dining table. “What if I don’t peel them?” “If you don’t make Marta happy, I’ll dig up your mother’s grave and scatter her ashes.” Johnson looked into my eyes, as if trying to see into my heart. We hadn’t seen each other in five years, yet in those contemptuous eyes, I surprisingly saw a trace of longing. That longing was as disgusting as he was. “You’re forcing me.” “As a daughter, you didn’t fulfill your filial duties while she was alive. Do you want to disturb her peace in death too?” Johnson asked me, pointing at the basin of shrimp in front of me. “Peel.”

I took a deep breath. Alex had some business to attend to for the next couple of days, but he’d arrive in Minnesota in two days to take me home. I just needed to hold on for two days. “Fine, I’ll peel them.” “No gloves!” Marta threw the gloves into the trash can and folded her arms. “What kind of punishment is it if you wear gloves?” I suppressed my anger and began peeling with my bare hands. In an instant, red bumps appeared all over my hands and arms. It was itchy and unbearable. After finally finishing the basin of shrimp, Marta looked at them with disgust. “These shrimp don’t have your contagious disease, do they? I feel dirty just looking at them.” Fortunately, there weren’t too many shrimp, or I definitely would have ended up in the hospital. “Is Marta brain-dead? Who told you allergies are contagious diseases?” “How dare you insult my mom!” George got worked up and shoved a shrimp into my mouth. I felt my breathing become rapid. Seeing my reaction, Johnson panicked a little. “Alice, what are you pretending?” “She’s acting so convincingly. It’s just one shrimp, but you’d think she ate poison. Feed half the shrimp to her and half to the dog. I don’t want to eat any of it.” Marta snorted and went upstairs. I curled up in discomfort. I heard Johnson say, “Do as the lady says. Get the family doctor here. If anything happens to Alice, treat her immediately.” Before leaving, Johnson also removed the diamond ring from my ring finger. “What are you doing?!” I shouted at him. “Even though you lied, hearing you say another man gave you this ring disgusts me. After all, you were once my woman.” Johnson threw the ring into the trash can. “Alice, you’ve gotten bolder after five years.” “But I haven’t forgotten how you used to beg me to spend more time with you.” After Johnson said this, he went upstairs. Because of the allergic reaction, I didn’t sleep well all night. The family doctor only gave me some allergy medication. In my daze, I thought about the past. I’d married Johnson initially just to get money from him. My mother was seriously ill in bed, and I needed money for her medical expenses. I didn’t care who he was sleeping with. Johnson’s mother told me that as long as he stayed at my place for one more day and I gave birth to a child sooner, she’d give me money to leave. “All the women Johnson finds are too dirty—they don’t even know whose child they’re carrying. I need a Johnson family child. Once you give birth to this child, you can leave.” Johnson played around a lot. He would drug me and make me please him. He even posted photos of my private parts—with pixels covering them—to his friend group. I was utterly humiliated. My mother was literally angered to death after those photos were exposed. After Mom died, money didn’t mean much to me anymore, but I was pregnant then. In a moment of weakness, I kept the baby. After giving birth, I left without looking back. That day at the hospital, the doctor even called him. “Mr. Johnson, congratulations on your son.” Johnson just mumbled something vague and hung up. I left. Although the doctor strongly urged me to rest in the hospital for a while, I didn’t want to stay there at all. I didn’t want to see Johnson ever again. I went to Johnson’s mother, and she tried to persuade me. “Johnson knows you gave birth today. He specifically went to buy supplements for you and is hosting a banquet. He hung up because he was really busy.” “Alice, without Johnson’s consent for you to carry this child to term, do you think you could have had such a smooth pregnancy?” “Stay. Johnson may not say it, but I can tell he really likes you.” “But all I feel for him is hatred.” My face was full of disgust. Hearing the word “like” made me sick. “You can’t go back on what you said. Please let me leave.” From that day I left until now, five years had passed.

I was sleeping groggily when I was awakened by being drenched. When I woke up, I saw George standing to the side holding an empty basin, with Marta clapping. “well done.” My allergic reaction had just subsided, but this basin of cold water made me shiver violently, and my head throbbed painfully. “What are you doing?” “Are you here on vacation? Sleeping so soundly.” Marta said with her arms folded, then looked at George. “George, tell her what we’re doing today.” “Racing!” George threw the basin on the floor and clapped his hands. “What fun is racing without some entertainment?” Marta said with a smile, then ordered me in a commanding tone, “You, come with us.” That’s how they brought me to the racetrack. It was a vast, empty space with several luxury racing cars parked there. Johnson was standing there too. Seeing them bring me over, he frowned. “Why did you bring her?” “What, do you feel sorry for her?” Marta pouted. “How could I? You’re my wife.” Johnson patted Marta’s head and squatted down to put a helmet on George. I’d already been drenched with a basin of cold water, and now with the cold wind blowing, I was shivering even more. “Since I’m your wife, what if I want to drag her behind the car? Would you say yes?” Marta tilted her head, shaking Johnson’s arm. My eyes widened. “What did you say?” Dragging someone behind a car—how dare they? “That might kill someone, Marta.” Johnson looked troubled and glanced at me. “Her life is worthless. If this gets trending and you get criticized for it, it wouldn’t be worth it.” A flash of jealousy crossed Marta’s eyes, then she pushed George forward. “George wants to do this too. Besides, we’ll give her protective gear and won’t drive too fast. What’s wrong with that?” “Didn’t you say I’m your wife? Are you going to side with an outsider over your wife?” George also tugged at Johnson’s arm. “Dad, Dad, I want to do this.” “Didn’t you also say? This woman once knelt for three days and nights and was whipped a hundred times without dying. This is just playing racing with her. What could happen?” I never imagined the child I’d carried for ten months and struggled to bring into this world could be so cold-blooded and heartless. “George, I should never have given birth to you.” “If I’d known you’d turn out like Johnson, I never should have brought you into this world.” I started coughing. The allergic reaction hadn’t completely subsided, and now I felt cold all over. When I touched myself, I was burning hot. I had a fever. “Enough, Alice. You were the one who shamelessly married me back then. I didn’t want to marry you.” “You’re also the one who ran away right after giving birth to George at the hospital. What right do you have to say such things?” Johnson’s eyes looked like they were about to shoot fire. “Do you know how much I wanted to kill you when I came back with all those supplements and couldn’t find you?” Following his gaze, I surprisingly saw a hint of grievance in his eyes. “That’s because I never loved you, Johnson.” “I only got together with you for money. I told you that five years ago.” “Fine, fine.” Johnson nodded, grabbed me, and pushed me forward. I hit the car’s side mirror, making my head even dizzier. “Tie her to the back of the car. Don’t give her protective gear. Just drag her for five laps.”

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