Arthur Vance asked me to deliver ultra-thin condoms to him again, and my mother saw the message. She paused and said, “I’ll deliver them for you.” “I was 40 when I finally had you. No matter how much I pamper you, it’s never enough. I can’t bear to see you suffer, so I will deliver them for you.” At that moment, I decided to give up on Arthur Vance. Later, everyone was surprised that I no longer revolved around him. Someone asked me why. I stayed silent for a long time, only pursing my lips. “My mother would be heartbroken.” 1 Arthur Vance booked a hotel room and forgot to bring ultra-thin condoms again. By the time his message reached me, it was already past eleven at night. As it happened, I was in the shower, and my mother saw the message. When I came out, the air was exceptionally stagnant. The message on the phone sitting on the coffee table was glaringly bright. [Mia likes the strawberry-flavored ones. Bring them to me within half an hour.] My mother didn’t know how to read many words. But he had sent a voice message. Probably holding a grudge because I had snatched one of Mia’s clients last time, his message this time was particularly explicit. The air grew a bit heavier. My mother kept her head down, lost in thought. She was silent for a long time before she said to me: “If this is the boy you like, then I’ll deliver them for you.” “I was 40 when I finally had you. No matter how much I pamper you, it’s never enough. I can’t bear to see you suffer, so I will deliver them for you.” The lighting in the room was dim, but the white hairs on the top of her head were incredibly conspicuous. I had liked Arthur Vance since high school. I followed him to a major university in New York. Later, I joined his family’s company and got a high-paying job. He treated me well, gave me gifts on my birthday, and paid me a high salary. When I first joined the company and was given a hard time while negotiating a deal, that person came to apologize to me the very next day. Some people were jealous and made snide remarks to my face: “Getting in through the back door really is different. She’s going to be Mrs. Vance, you know.” I actually believed it a little too. There were many people coming and going around him. When he needed something, I delivered it; when he didn’t, I took the money and handled things for him, one by one. Only Mia lasted the longest. Arthur liked her so much he wanted to marry her. Following behind him for so many years, I had endured a lot of hardship. But in this singular moment, I suddenly felt it was all quite meaningless. “I’ve decided to give up on him.” I said to my mother. As I spoke, I blocked Arthur’s number. The phone rang a second later. His tone on the other end was exceptionally casual: “What’s the meaning of this? If you’re going to throw a tantrum, now is not the time. I’m waiting to use them here.” “Oh, and when you get here, remember to apologize to Mia face-to-face.” 2 The apology was because I had signed a huge contract, but Mia claimed it was her client. As soon as the little girl cried, Arthur lost his mind. He docked two months of my salary, fired my entire department, and reassigned me to a different role. The project I had worked hard on for half a year went completely down the drain. When I confronted him, he just chuckled lightly. “Your job was handed to you through connections anyway, what’s there to be a pity about?” “As for those people, what good projects could they possibly do following you? If they had real talent, they wouldn’t be working on your projects anyway.” Even though a few days had passed, thinking back on it still made me feel breathless, my heart twisting in pain. Embarrassing and humiliating. I lowered my eyes and replied to him: “I will not apologize to her. If you are really that angry, then just fire me.” The other end was silent for a moment, then he let out a casual laugh, a hint of displeasure in his tone. “Fine. As long as you can actually let it go.” I didn’t know if he meant the job, or him. 3 I chased after Arthur Vance for ten years. Anyone with eyes could see I was madly in love with him. He transferred back as a senior in high school. Probably because he couldn’t take the college entrance exams as a non-resident student in New York, he came back. Aristocratic, outstanding. That was everyone’s first impression of him. That year was also when I was at my most wretched. At the time, my face was covered in acne, my personality was withdrawn and unlikable, and my family was poor. The apartment we rented was on the shady side of the building, the clothes hung out to dry never saw the sun, and I always had a lingering smell of fish on me. Nobody in class liked me. But he voluntarily became my desk mate. Perhaps out of pity or sympathy, he always taught me how to solve problems I couldn’t wrap my head around, and then would add: “I realized you’re actually really smart.” When people gossiped about me, he would hand me an earbud. It wasn’t playing any music, but a niche comedy podcast where a comedian was yelling in an earth-shattering voice: “People like this should be struck by lightning, why don’t you all just go die!” Also, when I frantically drank cold water to save five dollars on lunch, he would transfer two thousand dollars to my meal card. Then he’d say casually: “It’s just the price of one of my shirts, pay me back when you start making money.” At first, I was terrified and uneasy; I felt I didn’t deserve this kindness. Later, I comforted myself, thinking that I was just too unlucky, too unfortunate, and that was why Arthur Vance was sent to save me. After that, we talked about everything. The year I graduated from college, I was preparing to look for a job. At the time, a saying was popular online: Good jobs only circulate through networks and bloodlines. Unable to hold back my frustration, I mentioned it to him. He was just silent for a moment, then slightly raised an eyebrow and adjusted his collar. “I am your network. You can come work with me.” He was my best friend. It was only natural that I liked him. I was too ashamed to say it out loud. But maybe I made it too obvious, or maybe he was smart enough to see through people’s hearts. Late one night, he called me. “Emergency. I fell in love at first sight with a girl, but I didn’t bring anything. Can you deliver some to me?” At that moment, my brain buzzed, completely blank. My throat went dry, and I couldn’t even speak. After a long silence, I asked him: “Why me?” He laughed lightly and replied: “You’re my best friend. If you don’t help me, who will?” Finally, he asked seriously: “You’ll come, right?” In the adult world, a hint is often enough. By saying this, he was telling me to put away my feelings for him. If I had cussed him out right then and hung up the phone, we would have never crossed that line; we would have forever remained just friends. But for whatever reason, I still went. It was raining heavily that day, the drainage system had failed, and the water was almost up to my calves. Perhaps it was a self-defense mechanism, but I forgot how wretchedly I braved Arthur’s obscure gaze to hand him the items. I also forgot how I walked out of that hotel. I only remember the woman in the room asking curiously: “Who is that?” Arthur scoffed lightly: “Just an ordinary subordinate.” “Wow, it’s really not easy being a corporate slave.” The subway had stopped running, and the rain was so heavy I couldn’t even get a cab. I didn’t bring my ID, so I couldn’t book a hotel room. I could only trudge toward home, taking deep steps and shallow ones in the water. The wind in New York whipped against my face like a dull knife cutting meat. My whole body was numb. It took me three hours to walk home from the hotel. After getting back, I developed a high fever. Later, I got an ear infection. It was also that day my mother called me. She said she wanted to come and keep me company. Arthur’s voice also came through the phone. As frivolous and certain as always. “You’ll come, right?” I didn’t reply to him, I just hung up the phone. I wouldn’t go. Not now, not ever. 4 The heavy rain was pattering outside the window, and my ear started to hurt again. The pain spread very quickly, making even my scalp ache fiercely. I instinctively pressed my temples. My mother stood there, looking at me, somewhat at a loss. She hadn’t been very happy living in New York these past few years, always acting overly cautious. She always felt guilty that she couldn’t help me with my career, so while I was supporting her, she self-taught herself to read my moods and act accordingly. It was a complete role reversal. I forced myself up, pretending not to care: “Don’t worry about me. That’s not someone I like, just a pure capitalist boss.” “You know how competitive New York is. I have friends who still have to babysit for their bosses after work.” She didn’t speak, and her expression didn’t relax. I knew she didn’t believe me. After all, I had been in New York for so many years and had climbed higher and higher in my career. Even the higher-ups had to show me some respect and wouldn’t give me attitude. But I really didn’t have the energy to explain anything anymore. When I was in school, I used to tell her everything—what I ate, what I drank, what happened at school. I told her everything. But over the years, as I focused entirely on chasing Arthur, a wall gradually seemed to build up between us. Separated by an invisible distance, I couldn’t open my heart to her; I didn’t know what to say to her. I just said softly: “Mom, really, don’t worry about me. I’ve wanted to quit for a long time.” “It’s late, let’s both go to sleep.” I turned around, but a voice, almost choking with sobs, came from behind me. “But I can’t not worry.” “I went to your company to find you, and I saw him bullying you.” My head throbbed harder and harder; I didn’t have the mental capacity to think about which time it was. “I went to find him. I wanted him to treat you better. But he told me that you got into the company through the back door anyway, that you had already achieved what many people couldn’t even reach, and that taking a little loss was a blessing. He said it’s a good thing you’re a smart person.” “But, having a mother like me is really unlucky for you.” 5 Resigning required going through the formal process. When I got to the company, I realized my position had already been taken by Mia. When she saw me, she smiled with a clear conscience: “I just shed two tears, and Arthur gave me your position. He said I’m his favorite canary.” I wasn’t angry, and I asked her back in a calm tone. “Isn’t Arthur supposedly inseparable from you? Aren’t you two going to get married? Why are you calling yourself a canary?” “What? Are you so used to being a mistress?” “Don’t you look down on me!” Hearing this, as if her sore spot had been poked, her young face twisted somewhat strangely. “You still don’t know what Arthur said about you, do you? He said your motives were impure, your abilities were lacking, and he’s wanted to kick you out for a long time!” “You shouldn’t feel it’s unfair. After all, the capable ones rise to the top.” “Whether it’s in the workplace or in bed.” She had originally been keeping her voice down, but perhaps anger went to her head, and her voice got louder and louder. Those two words, “in bed,” were practically shrieked out. The corporate culture at Vance Group was intense; most people were so busy they barely had time to drink water all day. But at this moment, everyone stopped what they were doing and fixed their eyes on us. Sticky, damp. Feeling the gazes of everyone around her, her entire face flushed bright red. It made me think of the first time Arthur looked at her; she had been just as easily startled. Her thoughts were shallow, and her methods of stirring up trouble were brainless. I often guessed when Arthur would have me give her the breakup fee. Arthur had little patience, liked novelty, and his girlfriends were a constant revolving door. Every visible part of his body was always covered in women’s hickeys. Maybe this time it was true love. Even now, I still didn’t understand why Arthur liked her so much. Mia gritted her teeth but didn’t dare say anything more. She grabbed the thermos on the desk, intending to smash it in my face. But she forgot she was wearing high heels and a tight pencil skirt. In the early years, before Arthur had a firm foothold in the conglomerate, I often attended business dinners on his behalf. I wore either dresses with high slits or pencil skirts, teetering on stilettos. I hated it, so as soon as I had a little power, I immediately changed the rules. I advocated for everyone to wear trousers and suits for formal occasions, and casual wear for daily life. So her movements were very slow; the skirt restricted her steps. I grabbed the thermos with almost no effort. Then I smashed it hard toward her face. When it was five centimeters away from her face, I stopped. Facing her terrified eyes, I smiled. “Sorry, this is my cup.” “Chloe, I didn’t know you had it in you.” A scoff came from behind. I turned around and met Arthur’s slightly mocking gaze. As if coming back to her senses, Mia’s tears fell rapidly. “She’s too arrogant. She was going to hit me.” “What are you crying for? I’ll let you hit her back, okay?” Mia broke into a smile through her tears and aggressively stepped toward me, wanting to slap me. I, however, was exceptionally calm. I didn’t know what kind of existence I was in Arthur’s heart. I felt he must have been brainwashed by love to so brazenly use me as a tool to please Mia. So this time, the thermos didn’t smash into Mia. It smashed into Arthur’s face. Mia frantically covered Arthur’s face and said sharply: “Are you crazy?” Surrounded by chaos, I looked at Arthur’s incredulous eyes and said: “If you want to call the police, I will cooperate. Get a medical evaluation; I will pay for the medical expenses.” “I quit.” 6 My friend Sarah called me after learning I had resigned. “Don’t do anything impulsive. It’s really hard to find a job right now. There are more and more college graduates every year, wave after wave of young people. If you leave Arthur, you really won’t find a job this good ever again.” “I know you’re angry, but who doesn’t get angry working for someone else? You need to look at the bigger picture!” It felt like my head was pumped full of air; her words, filtered through the sound of the rain, sounded hazy and unclear in my ears. Sarah used to have a fiery temper in her early years and wouldn’t tolerate any injustice. When she first found out I was working for Arthur, she cursed me out in the exact same tone. “Arthur is using you as a meat shield! He takes you to every drinking party, makes you wear short red dresses to drink on his behalf. Have you ever looked in the mirror? Do you know you’re actually quite pretty?” “He’s using you, don’t you see that?!” I saw it very clearly. But I also gained a lot. As long as I was working, if I wasn’t being used by him, I’d be used by another boss. What’s more, Arthur was more generous than any other boss. I was willing; I hypnotized myself into accepting it. So at the time, I replied to her: “It’s even sadder not to have any value to be used.” I was full of confidence then, but thinking about it now, I wasn’t thinking clearly enough. I should have “looked at the bigger picture” like she said. For example, Arthur was very generous to me, the annual salary he gave me was high enough, and I had a car and a house in New York within a few years of graduating. I was already a winner in life. What did a little grievance matter? For example, I was just delivering something to add to the fun. Maybe other bosses would make even more outrageous demands. For example, liking him was entirely one-sided on my part. He had no feelings for me whatsoever. Having me do these things meant he truly saw me as a friend. Many times, I was used to convincing myself this way. But this time, I took it seriously. I kept thinking. When my mother heard Arthur’s frivolous tone ordering her daughter to deliver condoms to a hotel, what was she thinking? During that minute of silence when she heard Arthur say she was useless to me, what was she thinking? I realized that in that moment, I was in more pain than ever before. That scene seemed carved into my brain, constantly stinging me. I couldn’t close my eyes and keep chasing after Arthur anymore. I couldn’t look at the “bigger picture.” 7 I deleted all of Arthur’s contact information. And sent him a resignation letter using my work email. It wasn’t until the next day that he replied. [Denied. Come to work as usual tomorrow.] I laughed in anger. So what if I don’t go? If you have the guts, keep paying my salary and social security forever. I rented out my apartment in New York. The location was good, the rent was low, and I found a tenant the first day I listed it. I bought the apartment in my third year of working, and Arthur paid a large portion of it. At the time, Arthur told me: “Those old men in the Vance family are like wolves and tigers. Let me give you a sense of security.” “You’ve been strategizing for me since graduation. Times were tough back then, and I didn’t pay you a dime. Now I’m making up for it.” We decorated the apartment together. He said self-righteously: “I’ll be spending a lot of time here in the future, so it needs to be decorated to my tastes.” The lock was a keypad, and he knew the passcode. Only, he never came over again after that. … My mother had very few belongings. She acted like a guest, always afraid of inconveniencing me. The shoes she wore were always disposable hotel slippers, and she used a very thin towel to wash her face and shower. I was very busy, so I just gave her a lot of money and told her to buy things herself, but she never bought anything. Even when she came to visit me, she took a hard seat on a train for over ten hours alone. I bought two plane tickets. This was my mother’s first time on an airplane. She followed closely behind me. I could feel she was very happy. Even after sitting on the plane, she kept staring out the window. Once a person is idle, their mind becomes active. I couldn’t help but start objectively reviewing this relationship with Arthur. I had no friends around me, and my contact list, apart from Arthur, was silent year-round. After that rainy night, I considered myself to have parted ways with him. But the very next day, he broke into my house and aggressively took me to see a doctor. Later, some of the women around him were a bit malicious toward me, and he always liked to let me suffer a bit to appease them. Afterward, he would give me some compensation. When he was unhappy, he liked to cut contact. He wouldn’t reply to a single message, and acted like a stranger at the company. Every time, I would scroll through my messages one by one, trying to see if I had said something wrong that made him unhappy. Just when I was about to let him go, he would aggressively intervene in my life again. Sometimes he would give me an uncut gemstone ring, sometimes a pearl necklace. When the mood struck him, he would even personally cook a meal for me. And then casually mention: “I was too busy the past few days.” “But to me, you’ve always been unique.” His rejections were never complete; he always gave a blow followed by a sweet treat. He didn’t want me to pester him, yet he was afraid I wouldn’t. If I was despicable, he was by no means noble. The plane broke through the clouds, and the city grew smaller and smaller. I wouldn’t be coming back. I could no longer drag my feet, carefully maintaining this relationship. Never again.

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When I was home for summer break, babysitting my sister-in-law’s kid, she gave me her old laptop. Before I could even feel happy about it, I overheard her complaining to my brother: “Do you really think she’s babysitting for free? She’s just holding out to get something out of it.” My parents were also in the living room. Her voice was loud enough for everyone to hear perfectly. But no one spoke up for me. I looked around at what was supposed to be my “home.” Suddenly, I realized I was the only outsider here. I hugged the laptop, pushed open the bedroom door, and said: “Chloe, I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you. Here’s your laptop back. You can just pay me standard nanny rates instead!” 1 As soon as the words left my mouth, the air in the room froze. My sister-in-law, Chloe, didn’t say a word. She just gave me a nasty side-eye. My brother, Mark, stood up immediately, his face full of impatience. “Maya, is that how you talk to your sister-in-law?” “How am I supposed to talk? Didn’t you guys just say I was taking advantage of you? Should I be bowing down in gratitude? Or is it just that you want a free babysitter and don’t want to admit it?” This was the first time in years I had talked back so directly. My voice was shaking, and my hands trembled as I held the laptop. “You ungrateful brat,” my mom snapped. “What free babysitter? Aren’t you eating our food and sleeping under our roof? You can’t even do a few chores around the house? Do you think you’re some rich princess who doesn’t have to lift a finger?” Eating their food and sleeping under their roof? Since summer break started, I hadn’t had a single day off. It was more exhausting than being at college. My nephew was three years old, right at that hyper, chaotic age. He needed supervision practically 24/7. When Mark and Chloe finally got off work, my mom would drag me down to help out at the family diner. The diner’s dinner rush started around 6 PM, meaning my days were a seamless transition of non-stop labor. By the time I got home at midnight, I still had to put the kid to sleep. Because we only had a three-bedroom house—one for my parents, one for Mark and Chloe, and the nursery—I had to share a room with the toddler every time I came home for winter or summer break. He tossed and turned all night, constantly kicking me. I just wanted to sleep, so I ended up throwing a sleeping pad on the floor of the closet just to get some rest. This little terror was the precious grandson my parents had been praying for, and everyone spoiled him rotten. A few days ago, he even screamed at me: “I don’t want you in my room! This is my house, get out! This is my mommy and daddy’s house!” just because I was trying to teach him the alphabet and he got annoyed. When he said that, everyone heard him. But Chloe just gave him a playful scolding: “When Auntie Maya gets married, she won’t live here anymore! You’ll miss her when she’s gone!” My parents brushed it off, saying their precious grandson was just “speaking his mind” and told me not to hold a grudge against a toddler. How could I dare hold a grudge? I was already an outsider in this house, a second-class citizen. They never intended to keep a room for me in this house anyway. Was I supposed to keep sharing a room with my nephew when he grew up? 2 Mark is eight years older than me. Growing up, my parents always bragged about having a “million-dollar family”—one boy, one girl. Picture perfect. Relatives always told me how lucky I was to have an older brother who would spoil me. My mom constantly drilled it into my head how much Mark loved and cared about me. Saying he used to carry me on his back when I was little and refused to let go. I don’t remember any of that. From my earliest memories, he was always mean to me and never smiled. My parents made excuses, saying boys just weren’t very emotionally expressive, and told me to be more understanding. By the time I hit my teenage years, he was already an adult, at the age where he should be starting his own family. He didn’t get into college. After bouncing around dead-end jobs for a few years, he moved back to our hometown to settle down. To help him find a wife, my parents drained their savings and took out a massive mortgage to buy a house in the suburbs for him—an $80,000 down payment, 30-year mortgage. Later, to pay for the wedding and the engagement ring, they took on even more debt. They only finished paying off those personal loans last year. Mark drained all the family’s resources, making it incredibly difficult for me to even go to college. After my high school graduation, the atmosphere in the house was terrifyingly tense. I walked on eggshells every day. I constantly heard Mark and Chloe fighting. Chloe would scream that if she had known our family had such a massive “burden” (me), she never would have married Mark. Her voice was loud, everyone in the house could hear her, but they all silently agreed: I was the burden. All I could do was shrink myself, do more chores, speak less, and try to become invisible. I was terrified of seeing another angry look. That summer, Chloe gave birth to my nephew. My parents were busy running the diner, and Mark had to work, so for the entire first month postpartum, I was the one waiting on Chloe hand and foot. Every day, she gave me a list of what she wanted to eat and her dietary restrictions. I usually woke up at 6 AM, went to the grocery store to buy the freshest ingredients, and by the time I finished making breakfast, she was just waking up. When she slept, I watched the baby. Maybe I served her too well. A week before I was supposed to leave for college, during dinner, Mark suddenly announced: “It wasn’t easy for Maya to get into a state university. As her older brother, I’ll cover her tuition. But you have to figure out your own living expenses through work-study! Money is tight right now.” I was young then, and there were so many things I wanted to say but couldn’t. Because what could I say? Could I say that they should be paying for it? That all the family’s money went to his house and his wife? That our parents were still paying off his debts and his mortgage? I knew that if I said a single word, I’d be attacked by everyone. They would scream at me, accusing me of trying to tear Mark’s family apart. But maybe it was my constant silence that drove my status in the family lower and lower. Because from that day on, my mom and dad started lecturing me constantly: “Maya, you have to remember what your brother did for you! It’s not easy for him! He’s paying for your college in this financial situation. Don’t you ever forget your roots.” Sitting next to us, Chloe’s face soured, and she slammed her fork down on the table. Mark patted her shoulder reassuringly, took a sip of his beer, and said: “We’re family, there’s no need for all this. Just don’t hold it against me later if I can’t give you more, Maya.” I sat at the dinner table, feeling like I was sitting on needles. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on me, waiting for me to declare my absolute loyalty, swear to the heavens, and express from the bottom of my heart that my brother was my savior and I would repay his kindness tenfold. 3 Once I got to college, I barely ever rested. My family constantly reminded me how broke they were. Mark sent me a few hundred bucks a month for the first two months. Not long after, Chloe started sending me links to various articles and Reddit posts: “Best part-time jobs for college students.” “How to apply for work-study programs.” “How to qualify for financial aid and food stamps.” She even sent me a Quora thread where someone was expressing deep gratitude to their older sibling for supporting them, and detailing how they repaid them later in life. After sending it, she added a message: “Maya, look how great their sibling relationship is! You know how I am, I don’t mean any harm, I just want you and your brother to be close.” This oppressive, daily psychological manipulation was suffocating. I stressed over my living expenses every single month, and when I got sick, I was too afraid to ask for money for medicine. But the more I acted like this, the more they took it for granted. When I went home for winter break and went shopping with Chloe, she would use words and glances to pressure me into paying whenever she saw toys or baby clothes. “Say thank you to Auntie Maya! If you don’t say thank you, why would she buy you nice things?” After I paid, she would say: “Oh my gosh! You silly girl, you actually bought it! I was just joking around!” When we got home, she would loudly praise me: “Maya is doing so well for herself! She’s making her own money and knows how to buy little Mason clothes and toys!” My mom would chime in: “What’s the big deal? Her brother pays her tuition, buying a few toys and clothes is the least she can do.” They seemed to think college was just showing up for roll call, leaving me with endless free time to earn tuition, living expenses, and even have surplus cash. All I had to do was collect my diploma at the end. Eventually, I didn’t want to go home for winter or summer breaks. I wanted to use that time to make money so I wouldn’t be so exhausted during the semester. Plus, I needed money for a deposit on an apartment after graduation. I desperately needed to save money. But just as I had secured a summer job… My mom called and screamed at me: “Are you really that selfish?! Your brother is paying your tuition, and you can’t even come home for the summer to help out?! Why didn’t you apply for financial aid grants? Are you so obsessed with your own pride that you don’t care about this family at all?” I gripped the phone, tears streaming down my face. I had hesitated to apply for the university’s emergency hardship grants. Because to get those grants, you had to stand up in front of a committee and detail exactly how destitute your family was. Many of the students applying were genuinely struggling, some even coming from homeless shelters. Ever since Chloe found out about the grants, she had been hounding me to apply. I went to the financial aid office to submit the application. Faced with the counselor’s probing questions about my family’s situation… My face turned beet red, and I finally mumbled that I wouldn’t apply, that other students needed it more. But my roommates found out about it. For days, two of them made snide comments whenever I was around: “Some people are just so greedy! They want every penny they can get.” “If you want free money, you should at least have some shame!” After that, I made up my mind. I was going to work over the summer and winter breaks. Anything was better than being at home. But that first summer, my mom called. She said Mark and Chloe were on the verge of divorce, and Chloe had to work so there was no one to watch the baby. She said the diner was depending on the summer rush to make rent, and the family was drowning in debt. She cried, asking how they were supposed to survive. If Chloe and Mark divorced, what would happen to her poor, motherless grandson? I stayed silent. She tested the waters: “Are you really that heartless? Can’t you just come back and help your mom for one summer? After the summer, the diner lease is up anyway.” And so, I compromised. Then came the second summer. The diner was short-staffed, and I told them to hire someone. They said if they hired someone and the business slowed down, they’d lose money. We were at a standoff until my mom slipped while mopping and threw out her back, leaving no one to take care of her. I had no choice but to rush back. I waited on her hand and foot, did all the chores, and took care of the kid. And all I got was complaints: “If you had just come back earlier, I wouldn’t be in this situation! You think you’re so independent now.” And now today, after working for over a month with almost zero rest… Chloe handed me her old, discarded laptop. And then accused me of taking advantage of her, of just wanting her computer. I had been passing out flyers, working in warehouses, and waiting tables all month. I could have bought one myself. I could afford a cheap one! Her laptop was seven or eight years old. I was going into my junior year, and I still didn’t have my own laptop. I had been shamelessly borrowing my classmates’ laptops. For group projects, since I didn’t have a computer, I would take on all the heavy lifting just so they would let me use theirs. After classes, I only had a few hours left. I had to eat, take the bus, buy clothes, pay my phone bill, and split utilities with my roommates… All that money had to be squeezed out of part-time jobs in my spare time. My Amazon cart had a dozen cheap laptops sitting in it. I looked at them over and over, compared them endlessly, but never pulled the trigger. I wanted to wait for Prime Day, but I had to buy a bus ticket home for the summer and cover other expenses, so I didn’t dare spend the money. I thought maybe I could wait for Black Friday. I honestly doubted I would own a computer by the time I graduated. But even so… even so, I lived like a dog in this house. And all I got was: “She just likes taking advantage of people!” What the hell kind of advantage was I taking? 4 My mom was still mumbling from the couch: “You eat and sleep here, so what if you do a few chores? Given our family’s financial situation…” My fingers dug into the edge of the old laptop, tears brimming in my eyes. “I told you guys, did I want to come back? Did I say I wanted to come back?! I know I’m worthless in this house. I know I don’t deserve to eat your food or sleep in your house. I told you I was going to get a summer job. Who made me come back?! I work from dawn to dusk and I’m wrong. I try to stay at school and I’m wrong. What did I do wrong to deserve being bullied by you like this?!” My whole body was shaking. It felt like all the fragmented, suppressed memories of the past came crashing down on me like a flood. All the silent endurance, all the passive-aggressive comments—my sanity finally snapped. “Fine! You think you’re getting screwed over?! You think we’re taking advantage of you?! Is giving birth to you a crime?! Is your brother paying for your college a crime?! Who in this house owes you anything?! What ‘our house’? If you don’t want to be here, then get the hell out! If you have the guts, don’t ever come back!” my mom screamed, pounding her chest. “Did I ask you to give birth to me?! Did I pull down your pants?! Did I ask to be born into this family?! You committed no crimes, I’m the criminal! Why don’t you all just kill me?!” I hurled the old laptop onto the floor and screamed. My mom slapped me hard across the face. “I worked myself to the bone to raise you, and this is how you talk to me?!” She looked at me with eyes full of hurt. I felt like I couldn’t even breathe. Chloe looked at the mess, kicked a chair over, stood up, and walked out: “No good deed goes unpunished. I have the worst luck marrying into this family. We pay for her college, and she turns out to be an ungrateful parasite.” Mark picked up the kid and chased after Chloe. My dad finally spoke: “Are you done throwing a fit? Is this what you wanted? This is all our family has, and your brother is still putting you through school. Are you still not satisfied? How have we wronged you? We feed you, house you, educate you, and you won’t be happy until you tear this family apart?!” I didn’t say a word. I got up and went to pack my bags. My suitcase was already broken. This year, I had come home with just a large backpack stuffed with a few changes of clothes. I had cried for days to get that suitcase when I got into a good high school. Because my parents were already planning to buy a house for Mark, they said they needed to cut expenses. They said it was just a thing to hold clothes. But what kid in this day and age doesn’t even have a suitcase? I didn’t want to be a freak, and they had already broken their promise to buy me a phone for getting into the honors program. After endless begging, I finally got a suitcase of my own. It lasted five years. The casing cracked, and the wheels broke twice. I had no choice but to throw it away. I quickly shoved my clothes into the backpack. My dad suddenly smashed his coffee mug on the floor and yelled: “Do you only think about yourself?! Can’t you just swallow your pride for a second? Have you ever thought about what your brother is going to do now that you’ve offended Chloe? He’s under so much pressure paying for your college. Even if you don’t want to repay him, can’t you at least be grateful?!” Again with this. Again with the ‘repaying.’ I felt like I was going to laugh out of pure rage. I took a deep breath, looked into his murky eyes, and said: “Why should he pay my tuition? Do I not have parents? What are my parents supposed to do? Where did my parents’ money go?” “What does that mean, Maya?! Are you blaming me and your mom?! We only have so much to give! If you sell our old bones, how much do you think we’re worth?! Are you jealous we bought your brother a house? Didn’t you live in that house too?! How was your brother supposed to find a wife without a house?! Your brother didn’t even get to go to college! How can you be so selfish?!” “Ha! I’m sorry, Mom and Dad!” “Why are you apologizing to us?! Apologize to your brother and Chloe!” “No, I should be saying it. I’m sorry I didn’t dig out your son’s brain and force him to get into college. I’m sorry I was born into this house and forced you to waste food on me. I’m sorry I dared to sleep in your house; slaves should be sleeping on the streets. I’m sorry I had the audacity to go to college and make your son pay my tuition! I deserve to die! If you’re still not satisfied, go grab a knife from the kitchen and stab me to death right now! If you wait, I’ll be gone!” As I said this, my dad raised his hand to hit me. I tilted my head and dodged. Looking at these two people whom I had once loved so deeply… I finally understood. They weren’t my parents. They were their son’s parents. No, they were believers in the cult of their son. They had sacrificed their entire lives to their golden boy. And when the believers had nothing left to give, that’s when they needed their “sweet little daughter.” They couldn’t demand any return on their investment from their son, so they felt entitled to demand warmth and care from the daughter. It was hilarious. Hilarious that I was only just waking up to it. I grabbed my backpack and walked out without looking back. Behind me, the cursing continued: “Let her go! When tuition is due, she’ll come crawling back with no shame! What’s the point of having a daughter like this? What’s the point?!” I turned around: “You’re right! There is no point! You wasted your life! You lost money giving birth to me! But that’s how business works! You win some, you lose some. Who told you not to have more valuable sons? You could be paying off a few more mortgages, taking out loans for a few more wedding rings, living your days full of hope while drowning in debt! Instead, you had a money-losing asset like me. I didn’t make you buy a house, I didn’t make you take out loans for a wife. I just can’t satisfy your masochistic need to be abused. Look at that! It’s just your bad luck, just like it’s my bad luck! I met you, and you met me. I told you, if you’re not happy, kill me. Otherwise, go call the cops! Call the cops and tell them how I wronged you! Tell them how I took advantage of your son’s old laptop! Tell them how your son is the victim here! Go get justice for him!” 5 I was having a massive trauma response, because the past few days, I had been having a recurring dream. I dreamed that I kept suffering, kept enduring, until I finally graduated college. I had been accepted into a Master’s program, but because of their constant nagging—”When are you going to stop going to school? When are you going to stop bleeding us dry? When are you going to stop needing us to support you? Can’t you think of the family for once? Do you know how old your parents are?”—I gave it up. Then, because they demanded money the second I graduated, I took a stressful sales job. I didn’t have the time to properly vet companies, send out resumes, or study for civil service exams. I bounced between grueling jobs, pinching pennies to save a little money, only to have them guilt-trip most of it away from me. Because my parents worked physical labor their whole lives, they were still working at 60 to make money for Mark. This resulted in their health rapidly deteriorating just a couple of years after I graduated. At first, it was just sending them a monthly allowance. A couple of years later, it was pouring money into hospital bills. I was physically and mentally exhausted, with no time or energy to deal with my own life. I managed to go on a few dates, but as soon as the guys realized my family situation, they ran for the hills. I had no choice but to focus entirely on work. Until my nephew grew up. One day, he saw me buy myself a high-end skincare set. He started screaming at me, saying I was spending his money. He said I wasn’t married and didn’t have kids, so when I died, everything I owned belonged to him. I stood there in shock, but my family still told me not to hold a grudge against a kid. In the end, I tried to leave, but my parents caught me. My nephew threw a tantrum and tried to snatch my purse, screaming that I wasn’t allowed to take his money. During the struggle, I was pushed down the stairs and died. In the dream, I was covered in blood. The image was burned into my brain, but I couldn’t wake up. Later, I saw my parents cry for half a month, and then they took Mark and Chloe to claim the life insurance policy I had bought for myself. Ironically, I bought it because I had been working so much overtime I was having chest pains, and I was worried that if I died early, no one would provide for them. How can a person help others exploit themselves to such a degree? In the dream, after I died, all my insurance money and savings were given to Mark. My entire existence had become nothing but a human blood bag. When I finally woke up, it was right before my shift as their slave. The dream was too real. So real that the old laptop incident played out exactly the same way. Thinking about it, I kicked a tree on the sidewalk in frustration. Goddamn it, if I was going to have prophetic dreams, why couldn’t I dream of lottery numbers or stock picks?! If I really had to live that life, I’d rather just end it right now. But I also clearly knew that if I continued to be the frog in the boiling water, if I silently accepted it forever, that dream was absolutely going to become reality. I didn’t want to hear anyone else’s struggles, hardships, or difficulties ever again. They all told me to be understanding, but who the hell was understanding me?! I looked at my bank account balance on my phone. Less than $500. I was glad I hadn’t bought a laptop. Otherwise, running out like this, I wouldn’t even have emergency funds. Classes started in 20 days. I had to survive one day at a time and make as much money as possible. After all, tuition was due as soon as school started. It was almost $1,000 for the semester, plus dorm fees and other expenses, and I still needed money to live. I originally thought about working at a diner or a fast-food joint, but even if they provided meals, I’d make maybe $1,500 at most before taxes. It wouldn’t solve my tuition crisis. Luckily, my university was on the West Coast, near one of the largest wholesale garment districts in the country—the LA Fashion District. In my dream, I had worked in international trade sales. The memories were hazy, but they gave me a glimmer of opportunity. With less than $500 to my name, I took a gamble and bought a bus ticket back to California. I hit the ground running that afternoon, heading straight for the wholesale markets to find a job. I quickly found a gig as a sales floor associate. Minimum wage plus a 2% commission. Not long after I started, I realized there were a lot of international buyers roaming around. At first, my Spanish was pretty rusty, but I could manage basic transactions. As I got more confident, I started actively approaching foreign buyers. Just like that, I was making an extra $50 to $100 a day in commission. For housing, I found a dirt-cheap room in a sketchy neighborhood nearby that had nothing but a mattress on the floor. But for convenience, even this kind of room had a small, private bathroom, which gave me some basic privacy. Rent was $450 a month. To save money, I bought an $18 electric hot pot and cooked ramen and oatmeal every day, adding cheap vegetables and eggs so I wouldn’t get malnourished. But I was already incredibly satisfied. That $450 shithole was the safest place I had been in years. When I got off work, I could lie on my mattress and rest. I didn’t have to be terrified of someone calling my name, someone criticizing what I did wrong, or someone judging me for existing in their house. I could lie on that mattress and sleep soundly through the night. There was no kid to take care of, and no one giving me dirty looks for being a burden. 6 After working there for about 15 days, I wasn’t satisfied just doing floor sales. I wanted to try getting clients online. But my phone was incredibly slow. I bought it right after high school, and to save money, I got a model with practically zero storage. I didn’t even dare download too many apps. My boss, Maria, saw how driven I was and was very encouraging. Seeing how laggy my phone was, she casually handed me an old iPhone she wasn’t using anymore. It was a couple of generations old, but it was lightyears faster than my piece of junk. Holding the phone, my throat felt tight. I remembered that my brother and Chloe frequently upgraded their phones, especially Chloe, who always got the newest Pro models. But when she upgraded, she traded her old ones in or sold them online. She never offered one to me. She said she needed a new phone for work, and since I was just a student, my cheap android was fine. She said young people shouldn’t develop extravagant habits. She also said that a woman relies on her husband for a good life, and if my brother couldn’t even provide a nice phone, what was the point of marrying him? Based on that single sentence, my entire family busted their asses trying to satisfy her demands. But romantic relationships are supposed to be based on mutual attraction and capability. Because my parents’ son was incompetent and useless, he chose to make us compensate for his shortcomings. But why? I wasn’t his parents. Yet today, something that I wasn’t “worthy” of using in that house was casually handed to me by a stranger with no blood relation. Turns out, once you leave that house, it’s not actually raining outside. 7 I started by taking small orders via email, and slowly I learned how to use B2B platforms like Alibaba and TradeKey. I registered on almost every platform available. When I got off work at night, it was daytime for my overseas clients. With only a week left before school started, I did the math. Even though I hadn’t landed any massive online orders yet, combined with my floor sales, I was going to pull in almost $3,500 this month. I spent about $300 on food. It could have been less, but even though Maria initially said meals weren’t included, she started inviting me to eat lunch with her every day once we got to know each other. I felt bad freeloading off her constantly. So I started buying snacks and drinks to share with her. That’s how it is when you’re poor. Even genuine kindness can feel like a burden because you worry about being able to reciprocate. With the start of the semester approaching, I was trying to figure out how to tell my boss. And how to ask if I could keep managing her online sales. But during lunch, she suddenly asked: “Kiddo, when do you head back to school?” She had already figured it out. My eyes got a little red. She grabbed a napkin and wiped the corner of my eye. “What are you crying for? You’re still young! It gets better when you grow up! Once you graduate, everything will be fine!” “Did you save enough for tuition? If you’re short, I can lend it to you, and you can pay me back by managing my online orders.” A tear dropped onto my phone screen. On the screen was a text my mom sent a few minutes ago: “How long are you going to throw this tantrum? Apologize to your brother and Chloe! Otherwise, don’t expect a single dime for tuition.” Turns out, people with no blood relation will reach out and help you. While so-called family only wants to use tuition, living expenses, and basic survival needs to control you. Thinking of that, I immediately blocked her number. 8 I didn’t borrow money from Maria. In those 25 days of selling clothes, I made $3,400 from online and floor sales combined. Maria rounded it up and gave me $3,500. I had about $400 left in my bank account from before. Minus the $450 rent (since it was a short-term sublet, I only lost a $100 deposit). That was $550. Plus the $300 for food. I ended up with almost $3,000 in savings. I felt completely secure. Plus, Maria agreed I could work weekends for her, paid daily. Base pay of $100 a day, plus the 2% commission. I was going to survive. Even if I didn’t get financial aid, I could finish my degree.

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In the year when I was most sensitive and insecure, I rejected the confession of our high school’s most popular guy, Arthur Vance. The boy, wearing his school uniform, leaned against the wall, raised an eyebrow, and asked: “Are you really rejecting me?” I nodded, my hands anxiously twisting my sleeves. “I really hate you.” “Fine.” He gave a single nod, hooked his backpack off the floor with one hand, slung it over his shoulder, and said: “Then here’s to us never seeing each other again.” Later, by a twist of fate during my graduate studies, he and I were admitted to the same prestigious university. As soon as Arthur entered the school, he became the hottest topic on the campus confession wall. Everyone was curious about what kind of girl the campus god liked. Some guessed he liked good figures, others said he preferred innocent faces, and some even thought he liked high GPAs. Under the watchful eyes of everyone, the campus god made an appearance and coolly typed a few words. [Someone who isn’t insecure.] That night, downstairs at the bustling men’s dormitory, I blocked Arthur’s path. In the cold wind, he tapped his toe on the ground and sneered: “Didn’t you say you hated me?” I tugged at the corner of his shirt and shook it: “I’m not insecure anymore. Can you like me again?” 1 When Arthur and Mia made it onto the confession wall together, I had just finished pulling an all-nighter in the lab, looking covered in dust and grime. As I took my water bottle and sat down in a chair to rest for a bit, I scrolled past this confession post. Someone had secretly taken a photo of Arthur again and submitted it. Arthur became famous on the day of school registration. In the candid photo taken by a passerby, he was wearing thin glasses, leaning over to sign the registration roster with a pen. Half of his side profile was visible—the lines were refined and smooth, with a high nose bridge and thin lips, dark hair against pale skin, and a distinct, cool little mole at the corner of his eye. This photo was specifically featured on our university’s official Facebook page by the school’s promotional department. With the boost of short videos, it went viral across the entire university overnight, and even showed a slight trend of breaking out of our school’s bubble. Later, people dug up his phenomenal SAT score of 1580, discovered he had studied at a top-tier Ivy League university with straight A’s, and found his graduate entrance exam score, ranking him first in his major. The hashtag #ArthurVanceCampusGod hit the trending searches. Since then, Arthur has been famous throughout our entire university. It was totally normal for someone like him to be on the confession wall. Ever since school started, he was “randomly encountered” an average of two or three times a day. It would actually be weird if there was a day he wasn’t spotted on the confession wall. But most of the posts were asking for his contact info or begging for his details. This was the first time he was photographed walking together with a girl. The background of the photo was the main dining hall of our university, taken from behind and to the side. Arthur held a dining tray in one hand, his black backpack slung over one shoulder, while his other hand was raised, hovering protectively behind a girl’s lower back. The moment the guy looked down, the girl happened to look up. The two locked eyes, their gazes so tender you could practically pull strings of sugar from them. I quietly finished reading this confession post and scrolled down to the comments section. The comments section was bustling with activity. There were people wailing about their broken hearts, people curious about the girl’s identity, people feeling it was a pity for the campus god… But mostly, it was passersby offering genuine blessings. [Handsome guy and beautiful girl, they look like a perfect match.] [This is what I come online to see. Stop recommending ugly people to me.] [Wishing them a long and happy life together.] With the explosive popularity of this post, the girl’s identity was also dug up. She was in the same college as us, named Mia. [Isn’t she the one who hosted the freshman welcome gala this year? I saw her at the venue then and thought she was so pretty!] [I was the one who guided her during the freshman orientation, she’s a really outgoing junior.] [Mia, oh my god, she’s in our college. She’s in the same college as the campus god, the College of Electronic and Information Engineering. It’s true that the early bird gets the worm.] Mia was admitted as a recommended graduate student. As soon as she arrived, she became the head of the publicity department for the graduate student union. She was very famous in our college. Since enrolling, she had been seen hosting galas big and small. It made perfect sense that Arthur would like a radiant girl like her. I turned off my phone and stood back in front of the lab bench. 2 “Holy crap, Chloe, I just heard some bad news.” My roommate and fellow lab mate, Sarah, burst through the door like a whirlwind: “You saw the confession wall, right?” “The campus god is dating!” The campus god had many fangirls, and my roommate Sarah was one of them. “I saw it,” I said, my hands continuing to work at the same speed, giving a small smile: “What, are you heartbroken?” “Heartbroken my ass, it’s Mia! Mia!” “Arthur is going to help Mia in the competition.” My eyelashes fluttered, and I nearly dropped the lab tool in my hand. 3 The competition Sarah mentioned was the electronic design competition for graduate students in our College of Electronic and Information Engineering. The prize money was thirty thousand dollars, and many people in our college had signed up to participate. I had participated too. “Look—” Sarah shoved her phone into my hand. In our small competition group chat. First-Year Grad Mia: [Professor~ Can our team add one more person?] The professor was probably busy and didn’t see Mia’s message, so he didn’t reply immediately. Someone below asked her: [Is it convenient to ask who you’re adding?] AAA King of BBQ: [Is it Arthur?] Destroy This World: [Holy crap, the campus god?] Don’t Call Me Hey: [Is it really Arthur? He’s the universally recognized top genius of our college, someone who can independently solve core technical bottlenecks. His advisor is the dean of our college. Whether he participates or not makes a huge difference in a team’s success rate.] The small group chat, which had been dead silent except for competition notices, suddenly exploded with activity because of this message. The chat was flooded with people talking all at once. Finally, Mia popped up and replied with a shy emoji. [I’ll talk to the professor privately.] She said. I pretended to be calm and handed the phone back to Sarah: “It’s not set in stone yet, right?” “Once it’s set in stone, it’ll be too late.” “Look what this is?” Sarah, exasperated, showed me Mia’s Instagram story. The newest one. [The campus god has joined the team~ Thank you campus god for helping me with the competition~] In the bottom right corner of the photo attached to the post, the clean, narrow silhouette of Arthur in the lab was partially visible. I stood there, suddenly not knowing what to do. Finally, I just put down my lab tool and said calmly to Sarah: “I’m going to the restroom, Sarah.” 4 The college placed great importance on this competition. Eye-catching promotional posters were plastered on both sides of the lab building corridors. The thirty thousand dollar prize money at the very bottom was specifically circled and highlighted. After I came out of the lab, I stood under one of the posters and looked up. My main reason for participating in this competition was for the thirty thousand dollars. My parents passed away very early. In high school, my poor uncle and aunt took me in when I was orphaned and helpless. Although their family was poor, they never mistreated me and always gave me the best. Yesterday, I received a message from my aunt. My uncle needs a radical surgery for early-stage liver cancer. They are still short twenty thousand dollars. I had a total of ten thousand dollars to my name at the time, and I transferred it all to them. If I could get this thirty thousand dollars, we wouldn’t have to worry about my uncle’s surgery fees. But I never imagined I would be facing Arthur. Arthur was simply too incredible. His resume showed that for his undergraduate degree, he studied at a top 3 QS-ranked university abroad. As an undergrad, he independently conducted experiments and published in top journals. From his freshman year, he participated in competitions, winning first place in the MCM/ICM math modeling competition, first place in the national electronic design competition… the list of awards went on and on, his achievements so rich they left people speechless. When Arthur returned from abroad, the dean of our college, who was preparing to retire and hadn’t taken on any graduate students for years, made an exception and personally requested him as his student. Facing an Arthur like this, I really had no confidence in winning. I stood under the poster for a while, took out my phone, and opened iMessage. I still had Arthur’s number because he added me to tutor me in high school. Even after going abroad, he hadn’t deleted me. But the two of us hadn’t spoken a word since graduating high school. He had just been quietly sitting on my contact list. I thought about it and sent him a message. [Arthur, are you joining Mia’s team?] After sending it, I held my phone and waited for a long time. The message showed as delivered, but he didn’t reply to me. I put the phone back in my pocket, turned around, and went back to the lab. 5 Arthur probably hated me right now. In high school, he confessed his feelings to me. The first time we met was on the first day of school. At the time, the school hadn’t issued uniforms yet. I was wearing a washed-out white T-shirt and wrinkled, cheap jeans. When everyone gathered on the field, I hugged the wall and walked at the very back. He mistook me for someone else. I don’t know who he thought I was, but he patted my shoulder. “Classmate, the holiday assignment the English teacher gave…” I turned around. The boy’s words came to an abrupt halt. He froze for a second, then politely nodded: “Sorry, I mistook you for someone else.” We got to know each other because of this incident, but I had an avoidant personality and always tried to push people away. The first time Arthur saw my poor physics grades, he offered to tutor me. He asked me to meet him on the rooftop after evening study hall. I agreed readily at the time, but then turned around and sold his whereabouts to the school beauty, who had come to ask me about Arthur’s movements. The school beauty went to the meeting in my place. This angered him. The next day, during morning study hall, the boy brazenly barged into our classroom and stood in front of my desk. The boy’s eyes were light brown, the mole at the corner of his eye aloof and cold. His fists, hanging by his sides, were clenched in suppressed anger. “Chloe, you are really going too far.” The second time was on the day the college entrance exams ended. He confessed to me. Arthur cornered me in the stairwell, his features handsome and youthful, and said earnestly: “Chloe, I like you.” “The exams are over, we can date now.” I looked at my cheap shoes and clothes, feeling unworthy of him. So I shook my head and said loudly: “I don’t like you at all, and I don’t want to see you either. Being with you is just because you can give me a lot of things I don’t have. It satisfies my vanity.” Who could stand the person they like repeatedly saying nasty things to them? Moreover, Arthur wasn’t the kind of guy who lacked girls chasing after him. He didn’t speak, stared at me for a while, and then let out a laugh of pure exasperation. “Fine.” He nodded, hooked his backpack off the floor with one hand, slung it over his shoulder: “Then here’s to us never seeing each other again.” After he left that day, I stood at the top of the stairs and stared at his back for a long time. I hadn’t told anyone, but I liked Arthur. But I felt the gap between us was too vast, and I wasn’t worthy of him. 6 College students love gossip. After the girl’s identity was exposed, a new betting thread appeared on the campus wall that night, betting on whether Mia was truly the campus god’s girlfriend. There were “Yes” and “No” options, and you could only see the voting ratio after selecting one. I also saw this post. After hesitating for a moment, I clicked “Yes.” The “Yes” option had 10% more votes than the “No” option. In the comments section, the gossiping netizens were discussing it heatedly. [The aloof campus god and the alluring beauty, they are simply too perfect together!] [Agree with the above, but I also doubt if the campus god really likes this type?] [Me too (silently raising a hand). They are both so strikingly good-looking, they match perfectly in appearance.] [I’m an Arthur fangirl, I don’t care, this is all fake, fake!] I quietly lurked in the comments section for a while, then silently exited. I got out of bed, opened my laptop, and continued revising the project proposal. “Holy crap, Chloe, it’s already midnight, aren’t you going to sleep?” Sarah saw me turn on my desk lamp, poked her head out from her curtains, and asked me in disbelief. “I want to make a few more revisions.” I stared at the computer, not turning my head. “Sigh.” Sarah let out a long sigh: “Just accept it, Chloe.” “Now that the campus god is involved, his actual abilities are so strong, it’s no disgrace for us to lose to him, right?” I knew Sarah was trying to comfort me. I didn’t speak, just felt my eyes staring at the computer screen getting a bit sore. “It’s different, Sarah.” I said softly. “What’s different?” Sarah asked me strangely. “I don’t want to lose to him.” Sarah. I stared at the computer, my eyes suddenly stinging. I don’t want to lose to Arthur, and I don’t want to lose to Mia either. 7 I revised the proposal until the latter half of the night, slept for four hours, and climbed out of bed early the next morning. My family’s financial situation was poor, and I had to rely on myself for everything. So as soon as school started, I contacted a tutoring agency and prepared to work as a tutor. Today was the first day. While buying breakfast at the dining hall, I ran into Arthur. We were in the same major, but our research directions were different, and the classes we took were different too. This was the first time I had seen him since school started. He bent down in front of a stall selling sandwiches, his long, slender hand taking the sandwich from inside, and walked out with another guy. It was late summer. He dressed crisply in a white T-shirt and black pants, with broad shoulders and long legs. He carried a black backpack on one shoulder, walking towards the light. His back was lean and straight, like a proud, upright birch tree. Seeing that he was about to walk out of the dining hall. I don’t know where I got the courage from, but I dropped a “Ma’am, I don’t want the coffee anymore” and hurried out after him. My outfit and hair today really couldn’t be called pretty. A baggy white T-shirt and jeans, my hair loosely tied in a ponytail, without a drop of makeup on my face. “Arthur!” When he reached the door, I managed to call out to him in time. His back visibly stiffened; he stopped and turned around. His aloof, beautiful eyes scanned me faintly. This kind of competition matter wasn’t suitable for shouting in a public place. I hesitated for a moment, eventually running over quickly, panting, and looked up to ask him: “Are you going to join Mia’s team?” Arthur was a head taller than me. He lowered his eyelashes and looked at me quietly. He didn’t reply for a long time. After a while, he curled his lip and said coldly: “Does it have anything to do with you?” “I just wanted to understand my opponent’s situation.” I looked at him, pretending to be calm. My sharp fingernails were already digging into my palms. “Chloe.” He called me in a heavy voice. “You’ve sought me out a few times just for this kind of boring question?” My eyes felt dry: “Does it have to be Mia?” Does it have to be her? “Chloe.” The hand Arthur used to grip his backpack strap turned white. He was visibly angry and sneered: “Why don’t you go back and read the competition rules again?” The competition rules strictly forbade privately probing into opponents’ situations. His words made me feel a bit embarrassed. Not knowing what else to say, I just muttered softly: “I’m… I’m sorry.” Arthur gave me a look, lifted the door curtain, and left. 8 In college, my essay writing was very strong. The professor asked me to write an essay and hand it in to her. Then, Mia took that essay to participate in a competition. She won first prize in the state with my essay, and the certificate had her name on it. I couldn’t swallow my anger. The highly sensitive and timid me gathered the courage to confront her for the first time. Then, Mia dragged her little clique into isolating me. She pushed me to the floor in the restroom, looking down at me from above. “You think you’re worthy of competing with me for an award?” Mia’s family had money, and mine was poor. My grades weren’t as good as hers either, so almost all the teachers favored her. In graduate school, I unexpectedly ended up in the same institution as her, and even participated in the same competition. This time, I wanted to get justice for the seventeen-year-old Chloe. After finishing my tutoring session, I specially took a detour to the hospital to visit my uncle. My uncle and aunt were both good people. In high school, they were the ones who took in the homeless me. My uncle lay in the hospital bed, emaciated, while my aunt sat silently in the corner wiping her tears. “If it really can’t be cured, we just won’t treat it. It’s not worth sacrificing your future.” But if this surgery is successful, my uncle can live for a long time. So no matter what, I had to scrape together this money for them. I sat by the hospital bed, staring blankly at iMessage on my phone. In our competition group chat, Mia’s messages were constantly flooding the screen. She threw a very difficult question into the group, and after a while, replied to her own message. [Alright everyone, Arthur has already helped me solve it~] No one played along with her, except for one girl who didn’t want things to be awkward and popped out to say a sentence. [It’s so good that the campus god treats you well.] Mia shyly denied it: [What are you talking about? We’re not in that kind of relationship.] [But the campus god is really patient with girls.] [Today our research directions happened to be in the same class. I got stuck while presenting my PPT, and the campus god helped me out of the situation.] Mia boasted. I lurked and watched the screen for a while, then silently exited the app. 9 I gathered all the things Arthur had given me in high school, filling a large plastic box. In high school, Arthur gave me a lot of things. There were expensive ones, practical ones, coasters, starry sky projectors, bracelets from brands I didn’t recognize, expensive watches… At the time, I always lived cautiously. My family was poor, and I couldn’t afford to use good things. But Arthur saw all of this, and he helped me both overtly and covertly. The seventeen-year-old boy was youthful. After evening study hall, he would secretly pull me to a corner. His backpack was like a magic pocket; he could always pull out many things from it. “Chloe, I bought all these for you. They’re not worth much.” He awkwardly stuffed them into my arms. The tips of the boy’s ears turned red with shyness, and the mole at the corner of his eye was endearingly charming at that moment. I was preparing to return these things to him. He had been abroad all these years, and I never had the chance to return them to him. Now that the two of us were about to become opponents in the arena, there was even less chance I could return them on equal footing. It was better to just send them back now, so I wouldn’t owe him anything anymore.

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When I was 200 pounds, she was 100 pounds. She had a perfect figure and everyone envied her. When I was 190 pounds, she was 95 pounds. Everyone chased after her, and she had countless admirers. Just because the art school entrance exam was approaching, she was terrified day and night, afraid I might take even one extra bite of food. So, every day she sent her group of admirers in our class to humiliate me, hoping the stress would make me lose a few more pounds. “I have to lose weight!” Seeing my determination, the class beauty beamed with joy. I wonder if she’ll still be smiling when I finally drop to 100 pounds? 01 Sweat from my morning run plastered my hair to my forehead in greasy strands. As the fat on my body jiggled uncontrollably, several boys with their arms around each other’s shoulders walked past me, bursting into loud laughter once again. “Yo, fatty, put on a few more pounds, did ya?” “So fat you can’t even run, hahahaha.” This was a daily occurrence. The class beauty’s little group of admirers took turns verbally humiliating me. Morning runs, between classes, during all three meals, even during our lunch break—they never stopped. They were like a piece of sticky tape you couldn’t shake off, just like my sweat-soaked clothes clinging to my back. One of them even had the nerve to shove me from behind. The sticky sweat on his fingertips touched my skin through the thin fabric of my shirt. A strong wave of nausea and panic surged in my heart. I flinched violently, my steps stumbling even more, almost falling over. This clumsy reaction drew another round of piercing, explosive laughter. Not far away, the class beauty, Chloe, was standing in the shade of a tree, watching all this with a sweet smile on her face. After she gave an “OK” hand gesture, the boys quickly retreated. With a thud, I tripped and fell heavily forward. Hiss. It hurt so much. My knees hit the ground, scraping off skin and flesh, mixed with the red rubber granules of the track. I lay pathetically on the ground, my heavy body struggling to support itself and get back up. The wind from people running past slapped against my face. Not a single person stepped forward to help me up. Instead, I didn’t know who yelled, “Fat pig crashes into Earth!” and the field instantly erupted. “Ahahahaha…” The wind blew the fallen leaves. I sat there, motionless for a long time. Abandoned in the middle of the track, like a piece of garbage in the way. All that was left was the piercing sound of mocking laughter swirling under the clear sky. I yelled at their retreating backs: “I am going to lose weight!” Chloe’s departing footsteps halted. She slowly turned around, looking down at me from afar. Her eyes held the cunning of a plan succeeding. 02 I discovered Chloe’s secret a week ago. During the school physical exam, Chloe weighed 95 pounds. The dance teacher suggested she lose another 5 pounds to look better on camera. As I passed by the equipment room, I overheard her complaining to her childhood friend, the athletic representative, Liam: “I still have to lose more weight… That dead fatty eats so much, how is she supposed to lose weight?” Fatty? The “exclusive” title made me stop in my tracks out of curiosity. From their subsequent conversation, I learned the truth. A year ago, Chloe bound herself to a weight-loss system and chose me as her reference target. She instructed the system to make her weight exactly half of mine. Because my weight hovered steadily around 180 pounds year-round. Half of that was exactly a standard, healthy weight. No matter how wildly my weight fluctuated, she could securely stay within the 80 to 100-pound range. This allowed her to effortlessly maintain her figure. However, it also brought inconveniences. Not being able to determine her own weight meant every day was like drawing a blind box. Two weeks ago, on my birthday, I won some buffet coupons. I ate non-stop for two weeks and accidentally gained ten pounds. Chloe complained that the fat on her stomach had suddenly expanded. These past few days, I hadn’t been eating or drinking properly due to the daily bullying, and I had lost a lot of weight again. Chloe needed to lose 5 pounds, which meant I had to lose 10 pounds. She could have just told me all this openly and honestly. But she had been secretly playing dirty tricks behind my back all along. As I eavesdropped, my heart grew colder and colder. Having people snatch my food during lunch. Putting diet pills in my water bottle. And. Having the athletic rep lead the charge to humiliate me, to pressure me into losing weight… The miserable scenes of being bullied flashed through my mind. She wants me to lose 10 pounds? That’s too little. I’ll give her another 80 pounds on top of that. A total of 90 pounds would be perfect. Back in the classroom, a black pig pattern was spray-painted onto my desk again. The books in my desk drawer had been thrown into the trash can. When I picked them out, they reeked of a foul odor. Liam stood on the podium, pointing at my nose and shouting: “Did everyone hear that?” “Fatty Lily just roared on the field, actually saying she’s going to lose weight!” His words were met with uproarious laughter. “If Lily can lose weight, I’ll eat shit!” “If she can get down to 100 pounds, I’ll chase her and make her my girlfriend!” …… “Fine, it’s a deal.” When that day comes, I’ll find them one by one to fulfill their promises. 03 I started a live stream. I used a picture of a popular celebrity as my avatar and named the account “Perfect Figure.” The title was simple and brutal: “A 190-pound fat girl’s path to redemption, persisting until the art exam.” The person in the camera wore a loose, oversized T-shirt to cover the flab, but my thighs were still thick and heavy. I downloaded the most popular workout routines online and followed along clumsily. Sweat quickly soaked through the front and back of my shirt, my cheeks flushed bright red. More and more people flooded into the live stream. “Sisters, today is day 1, and it’s seriously exhausting…” A few heartwarming comments floated by sparsely: “You got this, streamer! Keep it up!” “It’s always like this at the beginning, take it slow, don’t rush!” There was no shortage of nasty comments either: “This woman is ugly and fat.” “Just seeking attention.” “So fat, why bother taking the art exam? What a joke.” I replied that I wasn’t taking the art exam, it was just for a bet. “You got this, streamer, you have to win.” The supportive netizens were still in the majority. Sweat trickled down, gradually soaking the floor. Just as I collapsed onto the rug in exhaustion, a comment suddenly popped up: “Holy shit?! Is this Fatty Lily from our class? [Shocked Face]” My heart sank violently, an ominous premonition washing over me. Sure enough, a few minutes later, Liam flooded the class group chat. He took screenshots of my ugly, sweaty face after the workout, photoshopped me into the “Michelin Man,” and sent it to the class. With the caption: “Lily brand tires, durable and tough!” “Hahahahaha, look at our class’s inspirational sister! Live streaming her weight loss, I’m dying laughing! With that tonnage, she’s definitely the spokesperson for tires, bros!” The group chat instantly exploded. “Hahahahahaha!” “Oh my god, this picture is epic!” “@Lily, you got this, looking forward to you endorsing three Michelin stars!” I turned off my phone and buried my head in the sofa. After calming down, I turned the live stream back on. I wouldn’t admit defeat. So many strangers were cheering me on. Why did the classmates I spent every day with harbor the greatest malice? After ending the stream, I created a strict weight loss plan. Daily meals and their corresponding calories. Workout routines, exercise volume, and target weight. At 5:00 AM, the sky was still dark. I got up to run, jogging all the way from home to school. Before leaving the house, I saw on the calendar that there were 80 days left until the art exam. 04 The morning breeze carried a chill, blowing through my sweat-soaked hair. The early risers going to work all knew there was a girl working hard to lose weight. When the sanitation worker passed by me, she offered a polite smile. “Up so early.” The owner of the bagel shop said that for a whole week, I had been his first customer. Looking at the freshly squeezed soy milk and the golden, crispy bagels nearby, I swallowed hard, gritted my teeth, bought a boiled egg, and choked it down with warm water. After class, I walked out of the snoozing classroom and did a few sets of deep squats in the stairwell. Sweat soaked my back, and my legs ached so much they trembled. Occasionally, passing classmates cast curious glances. Chloe and her little clique routinely “passed by” me. Those familiar voices drifted over leisurely again. “Tsk tsk, really trying hard, aren’t we.” “But it’s still not enough.” …… Lunchtime. Boiled chicken breast, broccoli, and a small portion of brown rice. The cafeteria was bustling with noise, and the aromas of various foods tugged at my nerves like hooks. The boys, carrying trays piled high with braised pork and fried chicken legs, deliberately walked past me: “Hey, Lily, is the diet food good? Looks completely tasteless!” “I bet you she won’t even make it to the art exam before she binge eats and gains it all back!” “We only live once, and eating and drinking are life’s great pleasures. Why torture yourself like this?” Chloe scolded them from the side, afraid I might listen to them and start binge eating immediately. She affectionately linked her arm through mine: “Lily, don’t listen to them. You’ll look so pretty when you lose the weight.” I pretended to be encouraged and looked deeply moved: “I definitely have to lose another ten pounds.” To prove myself, I chugged some water and painfully dumped even my diet meal into the trash. Back in the classroom, the girl in front of me was eating fried chicken. The smell of cumin was overpowering, and I quickly buried my head in a book. I couldn’t absorb a single word. I sat at my desk, spaced out. I could clearly feel it. In my entire brain, only the olfactory region was working. Countdown to the art exam: 70 days. 05 “Lost 10 pounds in 20 days, so that’s 0.5 pounds a day…” I was calculating when I would finally be fully slimmed down. The blank paper in front of me seemed to turn into a piece of soft, fragrant bread. The smell from the cafeteria drifted into the classroom from afar. If I couldn’t lose a pound a day. At this rate, my goal was going to fail. Current weight: 170 pounds. Remaining days: 60 days. Required daily weight loss: (170-100)/60 ≈ 1.166 pounds. Oh my god, I have to lose more than a pound a day! My look of utter despair was caught by the homeroom teacher as he patrolled the classroom. I don’t know when he stood next to my desk, his sharp gaze sweeping over the numbers on my scratch paper. His brows furrowed, and his tone carried undisguised contempt: “Calculating your weight again? I admit, you have lost a little bit of weight.” The classmates all looked at me. Some whispered that I had lost a lot of weight. But the homeroom teacher quickly changed his tune, “But it’s only a little bit.” “This kind of thing depends on genetics. You couldn’t get thin even if you wanted to.” He pointedly shifted his gaze to the eternally slender silhouette in the front row: “Some people are just born beautiful, gifted by God.” “With your build, one of you equals two of them.” The classmates laughed uproariously. Accustomed to being used as a stepping stone, I was already numb to it at this moment. Actually. The homeroom teacher was the first person to lead the bullying against me. Before, when classmates clearly snuck breakfast into the classroom to eat. Only I was singled out to be made an example of. I was punished by having to do wall sits for half an hour with a heavy dictionary balanced on my head. “Look, this is what happens to a ‘greedy pig.’” Sweat dripped onto the floor, forming a puddle. The classmates all said it was a urine stain I left behind. Thinking of this, I glared with hatred at the homeroom teacher’s profile. “By the way, taking this opportunity to announce something important.” He cleared his throat and waved the document in his hand: “The results of the selection for the school’s promotional video representative are out.” Everyone held their breath. “It’s from our class—” “Chloe!” The classroom instantly erupted into enthusiastic applause. “Wow—!” “The class beauty is amazing!” “Well-deserved!” I looked up. Chloe’s perfect profile drew everyone’s attention under the lights. Like a proud swan. Barring any accidents, in two weeks, the production crew hired by the school would start filming. As the class beauty, Chloe was top-tier in every aspect. Family background, grades, looks, height… Even her weight had reached a perfect level after I lost 10 pounds. From behind, I heard the envious whispers of my classmates: “Chloe seems to have gotten even prettier.” “She’s so disciplined, how did she manage to lose even more weight?” I leaned back a bit, wanting to hear clearly what they were saying. But the classmate in the seat behind me acted as if she were avoiding a virus. I heard the deliberately lowered voice clear as day: “Ew, so gross.” They rubbed their desks vigorously and stopped talking. 06 For two weeks straight, I ate nothing but porridge and greens. During the day, I ran a ten-mile long-distance run at school; at night, I persisted with live-streaming my workouts. Plus frog jumps between classes and jumping rope after dinner. “I am going to lose weight!” Under the setting sun, my shadow was stretched very, very long. Today’s goal: 20,000 jumps. “Family, I’m going to do 20,000 jump ropes first, help me get the likes up to 20,000.” The sound of the rope hitting the ground was monotonous and heavy. Liam walked past me holding a basketball, “Hey, why are you trying so hard?” He pursed his lips, looking as if he was about to hurl insults at me again. Seeing that I had my live stream on, he turned and left. I ignored him, just jumping mechanically. The face in the live stream also started to show clearer contours. The jawline, once buried in fat, was emerging. Although still round, it was no longer a chaotic blob. As I jumped, my strength began to fail. The netizens on the screen seemed worried: “Streamer, please pay attention to your health.” “Don’t overdo the weight loss, your heart is going to give out.” During this period, I was desperately trying to lose weight. Several times, I fainted during morning study hall due to low blood sugar. During the flag-raising ceremony, I pitched forward and collapsed. Because of this, I even became a “celebrity” at school. While I was exercising, people would always point and stare at me. “Look, that’s her!” “Risking her life just to lose weight…” They always looked at me with strange eyes. But there were also many kind-hearted people who encouraged me. In my desk drawer, a few boxes of chocolates inexplicably appeared. With a note attached: “Instructions: Eat when blood sugar is low.” I also received thousands of direct messages from netizens on my phone. The scale showed exactly 160 pounds. Chloe was 80 pounds. Countdown to the art exam: 40 days. 07 The production crew arrived as scheduled. The corridors were packed with excited students, craning their necks to look for the adults carrying cameras and wearing baseball caps. In the dance studio, the makeup artist was doing Chloe’s makeup. “Huh, did you lose weight again?” “I remember when we did the makeup test last time, it was perfect. The director even praised your face for being as photogenic as a celebrity’s.” “But… this time I have to contour your cheekbones a bit.” Chloe shot a warning glance at me sitting nearby. “Wow, Chloe is basically a fairy!” The girls screamed with envy. The boys peeked through the window like a bunch of creeps. After the makeup was done, Chloe still looked perfect. Her slightly prominent cheekbones and sharp jawline had been contoured to look softer and rounder. When Chloe went to the field for filming, almost the entire school showed up. She stood next to the director, listening attentively to his instructions, a sweet smile on her face. From time to time, she waved at the underclassmen, drawing wave after wave of screams. The sunlight fell on her, as if coating her in a soft glow. “Perfect.” The director repeatedly admired the framing in the camera. The surrounding classmates stared fixedly, their whispers full of awe: “Oh my god, Chloe is so beautiful! Like a movie star!” “Even the big director says she was born for this!” “This is what you call a true class beauty. No, she should be the school beauty!” Hearing these words, Chloe held her head even higher. Her gaze swept over the noisy crowd and stared straight into my eyes. I wanted to see a hint of gratitude in them. But there was none. Only smug complacency. Suddenly. “Careful!” As Chloe turned her head, she almost fell. The assistant nearby quickly reached out an arm to help steady her. “Chloe? Are you okay?” the director asked with concern. “I… I’m fine! Director, I’m sorry, I spaced out for a second.” Chloe forced a smile, her voice trembling slightly. In her moment of weakness, she subconsciously looked at me again. The exquisite dress seemed empty and heavy on her overly thin shoulders. The girl before me seemed to have remembered something. Her weight would always be half of mine. So, it meant I had lost weight again… At this moment, Chloe was the center of attention. The sun was shining brightly, the cameras were focused on her, surrounded by the praise of the director and classmates. But after today, she was going to take a steep fall. Countdown to the art exam: 30 days. 08 I activated hell mode. Because when I consulted at the gym, the trainer was very dissatisfied with my previous plan. “Lily, you’ve hit a plateau. You’re stuck at 160 pounds, right?” “We have to increase the intensity!” “If you want to keep dropping, you have to break your body’s comfort zone!” “Okay!” The morning jog turned into alternating hill sprints. After running, I’d collapse directly onto the rubber track, my vision going black. Plus two swimming sessions a day. Every stroke of my arms felt like they were filled with lead. When I got out of the pool, my whole body would spasm uncontrollably. The most painful part was wearing weighted sandbags on my ankles, starting with 2,000 reps, interspersing high knees and burpees. At midnight, sweat dripped onto the mat, spreading into large, dark patches. I barely had the energy to lift my head. The number of people in the live stream kept dwindling. “I’m heading out first, you got this streamer, keep going sisters.” By the time I finished exercising and dried off, it was already 4:00 AM. Only a handful of people were left in the live stream. The moment when the crabapple blossoms had yet to sleep. I looked at the clock. In two more hours, I had to get up again. The moonlight shone through the window, looking somewhat bleak. I really didn’t know if I could keep going the next day. 6:00 AM. When the alarm rang, I rolled over. Hiss. My entire body felt like it had been run over by a truck. My limbs felt like they had been newly stitched on. My elbows and knees wouldn’t move. Every joint was in agonizing pain. I wanted to pretend I didn’t hear the alarm. And just sleep like the dead on the bed. But I opened my eyes and stared at the schedule by my bed. Watching the numbers get smaller and smaller. Countdown 28 days, 157 pounds. Countdown 27 days, 153 pounds. Countdown 26 days, 150 pounds. …… I absolutely could not give up. I gritted my teeth, dragged myself up, and continued yesterday’s journey. “I have some good news for everyone, your streamer has successfully lost 50 pounds.” But the bad news was, my period had been delayed for almost three weeks this month. The sanitary pads sitting in the corner had gathered a thick layer of dust. Excessive weight loss was overdrawing my body. 140 pounds. I looked at the numbers on the scale. I’m the best! Countdown to the art exam: 20 days.

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The third time my childhood friend brought up that poor girl, I laughed and teased him. “You really did have a thing for her back then, didn’t you?” I said. His expression turned serious. He wanted to correct me. “Cleo, don’t make jokes like that,” he said earnestly. “She was different from us. She was self-respecting and never looked down on anyone who worked hard.” I pouted, feeling slighted. Eventually, they both ended up at Julliard, the top music school in the country. I smashed my violin, moved across the ocean, and changed my major to finance. The bitter rivalry between the popular girl and the charity case was a thing of the distant past. The day I returned, he took me out for dinner. He placed a piece of fish on my plate. Without thinking, I pushed it to the side. He froze, and a long silence fell between us. 1 I kept my return simple, only telling my parents. But the Sterling and Vance families have always been close. So, when I saw Elias Sterling waiting at the airport curb, I wasn’t surprised. Years hadn’t touched his looks. He was still striking. Aristocratic, wearing a dark trench coat, approaching me with that unhurried stride. Perhaps it was the artistic aura of a classical musician, but I noticed several girls nearby stealing glances at him. He smiled as he came over, naturally taking my suitcase from me. “Cleo, was the flight exhausting?” “The heat is on in the car, go get in.” He saw I wasn’t moving. His eyes crinkled. “Your dad asked me to pick you up.” I hesitated for a moment, then got into the back seat. I asked casually, “Aren’t you busy? It’s Monday.” “The princess is back. No matter how busy I am, I have time for this, right?” There was something deep in his eyes, something hard to read. I looked away, offering a casual smile. “Stop teasing me. That’s such a childish nickname. It sounds weird now.” He paused. But he quickly recovered. “We haven’t seen each other in so long. Let’s grab dinner.” It was getting late. I hesitated again. “Okay.” In the rearview mirror, Elias’s gaze drifted toward me, on and off. I pretended not to notice, keeping my head down to reply to a text. [Yeah, just landed.] The reply came instantly. [Spend some time in the city first. I’m wrapping things up here; I’ll be there next week.] I was about to type back. He added, [It’s been exhausting lately. I really miss you.] The market in London had taken a tumble recently; he was probably drowning in meetings. My heart softened. Elias saw me staring at my phone and said softly. “Don’t stare at your phone in the car, Cleo. You’ll get motion sickness.” I froze. That familiar, protective tone. Caring, yet bordering on indulgent. I couldn’t help but look up at him. Years had passed since our last blow-up. We hadn’t spoken in ages. Yet Elias acted as if nothing had happened. His smile still showed those shallow dimples. I put my phone down. “How are my parents doing?” My main reason for coming back was to see family. Seven years had passed; I was rarely as stubborn or vindictive as I used to be. “Your mom was discharged a few days ago. The surgery went perfectly.” His tone was light. “Don’t worry. I’m here, aren’t I?” I was silent. His uncle is a renowned specialist, and the Sterling family had clearly taken good care of things. I offered a polite smile. “Thank you.” The two words had barely left my mouth when Elias flinched. In the past, I was shameless. I’d make him buy me coffee, make him massage my hand when it got tired from practice. I’d even pull a face and make him kneel down to tie my shoelaces. And I’d laugh, wrapping my arms around his neck, never saying thank you. He used to just flick my forehead helplessly. “You really don’t know the meaning of polite, do you? You need to grow up.” The light turned red. Elias rested his arm on the open window. He asked, almost too casually. “What about you? All these years… have you been okay?” 2 After dropping my stuff off, he took me to a nearby restaurant. It was my favorite French place. The waiter brought out the steaks. I answered offhandedly, “I’m good. London is actually great.” Elias offered a gentle smile. “I’ll have to visit sometime.” Mid-sentence, I watched as Elias switched my glass of wine for a soft drink. I said, helpless. “Honestly, Elias, I’m a grown woman now. You don’t have to do this.” He was stubborn about it. “Girls shouldn’t drink too much.” There was a live music stage in the main dining area. A few college girls, eyes sparkling, ran over to ask Elias for an autograph. After signing, he whispered something to them. The girls covered their mouths, peeked at me, and then ran back, giggling and excited. Moments later, a familiar melody began to play. My hand faltered. It was the violin—Greig’s Norwegian Dance. A complex piece, carrying the crisp scent of summer. I still remember the summer I was seventeen. Elias sat beside me, patiently accompanying me, over and over. In the candlelight, his smile was so tender. “By the way, Cleo, when are you coming over to visit? My parents are always asking about you.” “And your favorite pastries, the ones from that bakery down the street… oh, and the calico cat had a litter of kittens last year…” As he spoke, he naturally placed a piece of salmon on my plate. I looked down and pushed it to the side. Elias stopped talking. He was silent for a long time, rubbing his temple. Suddenly, he looked at me, appearing terribly weary. “Cleo, it’s been so long. Do you still hate me?” I stopped eating. Elias looked like he genuinely didn’t understand. “We grew up together. Was it really just because I held her hand during the bow?” In the dining room, the violin music continued, flowing beautifully. It reached a specific turning point. The melody changed, bringing forth older memories. Memories that made me angry, made me sick. Elias’s voice was getting louder. His fingertip lightly tapped against his water glass. “Just like that, you gave up your dream? Never touched a violin again? Threw everything away and ran across the ocean alone?” He frowned. “And all I did was not pull my hand away when she reached out…” “We were on stage. Why did you have to be so throwing a tantrum at that moment?” Quite a few people were staring at us. I froze. Years later, he was bringing up old history again. The complex tangle of emotions in my chest made me uncomfortable. I set my knife and fork down, letting them clatter against the plate. I tilted my head, eyes crinkling in a smile. “Mr. Sterling, I’m sorry. I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Young and foolish, a bit of puppy love… that’s just a classic high school story.” I looked confused. “Why would I be angry about that?” Elias stared at me intently. I grabbed my purse, speaking calmly. “You guys had your dreams, and I have the right to choose the path I want to walk.” “There’s no need to bring up the past.” I glanced at the musicians, speaking honestly. “Besides, I actually think that piece sounds pretty awful.” The violin music stopped abruptly. As I turned to leave, Elias stubbornly grabbed my hand. I couldn’t read the emotion in his eyes. “So, you went into finance, something you aren’t even good at, just to accept an arranged marriage?” “To marry some guy you don’t even know, just to get back at me?” He shook his head slightly. “Cleo Vance, you must have lost your mind.” I calmly pulled my hand away, speaking softly. “What business is it of yours?” “Elias, what exactly is your standing to be talking to me like this right now?” His eyes were dark as ink. He opened his mouth. But no words came out. I smiled. As I reached the door, I remembered something. “Oh, right. I heard Maya is the concertmaster this year. Congratulations.” 3 My head was pounding. I went to a nearby coffee shop and ordered a black Americano. While waiting, a short-haired woman in business attire sat across from me. Our eyes met accidentally. Excitement flashed across her face. “Cleo! What a coincidence.” She put her phone down, happily reaching out a hand. “I haven’t seen you in forever! I was in your class junior year!” I was a bit stunned. I had deliberately erased those memories, and they had become blurry. “Back then, you and Elias actually helped me with my tuition. I always wanted to find a chance to thank you guys…” Seeing I still didn’t have much of a reaction. She waved it off with a laugh. “It’s normal that you don’t remember.” “After all, you guys were so dazzling. You helped so many classmates.” “You guys really are a perfect match. Years later, and you’re still stunningly beautiful!” I remained silent, casting my eyes down. She was like an opened faucet, excited to gossip. “Speaking of which, you guys are too low-key. It’s been so long and there’s still no news about a wedding.” “There was that crazy betting pool on the school forum back in the day.” “The ‘popular girl vs. charity case’ rivalry. Both sides were going back and forth like crazy.” She took a sip of her coffee, sounding righteous. “It was so annoying. How could Maya even compete with you? She couldn’t beat a childhood sweetheart dynamic…” “Miss, your Americano is ready.” I stood up, suddenly finding it a bit funny. I remembered that betting pool. Seven years ago, high-spirited and arrogant, I had actually cast a vote for myself on that forum. I never imagined that in the end, I would be the one fleeing in humiliation. I turned and apologized. “I actually have an emergency I need to take care of. Please excuse me.” She wasn’t upset at all. She crinkled her eyes and waved at me. “Cleo, when are you going to invite me to one of your concerts? I’ll buy out the front row!” My steps faltered. I pushed open the coffee shop door in a rush. Looking at her expectant, certain gaze, I honestly didn’t have the courage to tell her. I had abandoned that dream long ago. I hadn’t touched a violin in seven years… The nights here were always dry and cold, unlike the endless drizzle of London. Some memories just couldn’t be forgotten. They could effortlessly disrupt my entire life. My thoughts drifted back. Back then, everyone knew I had two great loves. One was the violin, and the other was Elias Sterling. It was simple: I had known Elias since we were toddlers. We both started playing the violin at the same time. We lived in the same neighborhood; our parents were best friends. We shared a natural, innate talent for music. We practiced in the same music room, learned music theory together, entered competitions together. We knew everything about each other. Our interests aligned, our personalities complemented each other. I was the arrogant, demanding one; he was gentle and attentive. Growing up, we did everything together. Skiing in Aspen, ordering too much food at restaurants, walking home together after school. He carried my backpack, handed me my drinks, tied my shoelaces. Family background, looks, talent—everything matched perfectly. Back then, everyone believed I would become a world-renowned soloist. And then, I would marry Elias Sterling. But the summer of our sophomore year, someone completely different appeared. Her name was Maya, and she was just a very ordinary girl. 4 Elias first noticed her when he casually handed her a coffee. The barista had gotten the order wrong, and I was always picky. He shrugged, about to toss the coffee into the trash can behind us. “Um, could… could I have that?” A weak voice sounded. Maya looked up at him, speaking very softly. Walking home later, Elias brought it up. “She looked like she was about to pass out from low blood sugar. And I guess her family is struggling financially.” That was the first time he had ever shown interest in someone else. Arrogant as I was back then, I just thought he was being soft-hearted. In our AP music class, Maya was considered nothing more than a hard worker. Her performance grades were always at the bottom of the class. She always wore the same worn-out school hoodie. She was timid, prone to panicking and missing beats when she played the piano, and then bursting into tears. She was just an unremarkable, ordinary girl. But later, Elias started bringing her up more and more often. He’d talk about how she was actually doing so well, how much he admired her tenacity. Every time, I’d be defensive. “But I clearly do everything a hundred times better than her.” He would stop what he was doing and say seriously. “Cleo, she’s different from us. She was self-respecting and never looked down on anyone who was ordinary yet worked hard.” During an AP class, laughter erupted from the back of the classroom. The students all turned around to see Elias, flushing, trying to cover Maya’s mouth. She was blinking innocently, locking eyes with me at that exact moment. When Elias used to bring me things, he started bringing a second copy for her. He’d let her into our private music room to practice. He never said no to her. People started joking around. They called Maya the pure “White Moonlight” and me the arrogant “Popular Girl.” One was sweet and simple, the other proud and brilliant. The rivalry lasted for three years. That comparison followed me everywhere, haunting me like a ghost. Wherever Elias and I were. No matter the time, we would be compared. “But with that princess attitude of hers, Maya is just so much better.” “Boys favor the gentle type. It’s completely understandable. Maya is actually really pitiable.” “Cleo is just too competitive. But I guess she is prettier than Maya.” Maya, Maya… I started becoming frantic. I would scream, I would cry. I found it hard to believe. “Do you really like her?” Every time, he used to helplessness flick my forehead. “Don’t talk nonsense. It’s bad for her reputation.” At the school gala, Elias had promised to accompany her on piano. Their performance was seamless, earning round after round of applause. At the bow, Maya was nervous and tightly gripped the hand of the boy beside her. In the celebratory flush of performance, even ordinary Maya looked a bit beautiful. And Elias hesitated for a second, but he didn’t pull his hand away. Someone posted the photo online. The boy in white and the girl in white—it got millions of hits. With red eyes, I threw away all of his white shirts. We were in a cold war for a long time after that. From then on, the moment I saw white clothing, I felt sick. 5 From somewhere, the beautiful sound of a violin drifted over again. Yes, the tempo needed to slow down, the melody rising and falling. I was sitting in the audition room. Left hand pressing the strings, right hand lightly lifting the bow. It was a pre-screened audition; I knew the judges. But the piece drawn was the Norwegian Dance. Outside the window, Elias secretly let out a sigh of relief. This piece was considered our “song.” It had echoed through that summer when we were seventeen. It was a melody I knew by heart. My face was pale, my lips white. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and began to play. The sound was brilliant, but that disgusting scene gradually became clear before my eyes. The spot where I was pressing the strings… their hands had been tangled together there. This specific measure… he had patiently helped her with the rhythm. My strings… Maya’s hair had brushed against them… How could he? How could he? Why did it have to be this piece! Cold sweat broke out on my forehead. I played faster and faster, faster and faster. A string snapped, cutting my finger. I opened my eyes and calmly stood up. Facing the stunned judges, I bowed, and then walked out of the audition room. …… “Miss! Could you spare some change?” Memories were pulled back. A little boy on the street was holding a battered old violin. He asked me weakly. I crouched down. “Did you just play that song?” “Yeah! It’s the only song I know…” He looked a bit depressed. “My mom smashed my violin, and I want to save up to fix it.” “I saw you standing there listening for a long time, so you must like the violin too. Miss, could you spare just a little change?” Having just returned from abroad, I didn’t have any cash on me. A well-manicured hand reached past me, handing over a few hundred dollars. “Here, kid. Get the violin fixed and practice hard.” A cool, crisp voice. It was Elias again. He patted the boy’s head, his gaze sweeping over to me. He teased. “At least he has ambition. Better than some people.” I casually stood up and walked away. Elias followed silently at my side. The moonlight was shifting. After a long time, he said calmly, “Giving up because of one failure… that’s not the Cleo Vance I know.” “How is that any better than the Maya you always looked down on?” My eyes were icy. I stopped walking. “So? What exactly are you trying to say?” “You guys got what you wanted. Why are you still here bothering me?” Elias gave me a deep look and handed over a ticket. “There’s a very famous investor coming to the city next week. The city arranged a performance for me.” “The tickets are sold out, but I want you to be there…” I squinted at him. A spark of something flickered in his eyes, but it quickly faded into calmness. The ticket had a platinum border, showing how high-profile this performance was. I calmly looked away. “I’m sorry. I won’t be attending.” “It’s not far. I’ll send someone to pick you up.” I tightened my collar and didn’t answer. Elias caught up, naturally taking off his coat. “Is there a scheduling conflict? I can see if it’s possible to adjust the time…” I coldly knocked his hand away. “What exactly do you want?” He looked down. “Seven years ago, I always regretted…” I frowned, interrupting him. “I told you, I’m married.” “I’m happy right now, and I hope you guys stop bothering me.” He froze for a moment, then suddenly let out a cold laugh. A hint of iciness appeared. “Happy? Are you sure?” “A loveless business marriage… how long do you think that’s going to last?” Seeing I was about to speak, he made a shushing motion. “Before you argue with me, let me ask: where is this husband of yours? Why isn’t he with you?” “Hmm. Is he balding, or is he gay? Oh, or maybe he’s just really rich?” The words had barely left his mouth when I slapped him across the face. “Shut up!” I said coldly, “Keep your disgusting thoughts to yourself.” His face was turned to the side, but he was chuckling softly. “Angry?” He said softly. “Cleo, all these years without you, I’ve been very lonely too.” 5 I was completely unmoved. His eyes were as dark as ink. He stared at me intently. A gentle breeze blew in from the ocean. I only then seemed to remember that I had said that same thing to him once. The person who couldn’t bear to be apart from him the most was me. The person most afraid of being lonely was me. But in the end, the person who was abandoned… was also me. “No matter what, I’m glad you’re back.” “I won’t let the regrets from seven years ago happen again.” Having said that, he turned and left, not looking back. I was only a few steps away from the hospital, on a dark, deserted little path with no streetlights. He had followed me for a long time. I paused, then walked on expressionlessly. While waiting for the elevator on the first floor. I run into Maya. She was still dressed in that pure, elegant style, though with an added touch of gentleness and sophistication. Now, she was a famous pianist. Quite a few people recognized her and gathered around, whispering. She was helping an elderly woman out. The elderly woman was beaming with pride, introducing her to everyone around. “This is my granddaughter! She just got back from performing with Elias Sterling in Los Angeles…” Someone in the crowd said excitedly, “Are the rumors about Maya and Elias true? That they’ve loved each other since high school? That they’ve supported and accompanied each other for years?” Maya pursed her lips in a smile, about to speak. Then she saw me. When our eyes met, she visibly became panicked. She became incredibly uncomfortable, her eyes darting around. Someone followed her gaze and noticed me. “Wow! Who is that? She’s gorgeous. Is she some celebrity?” “Probably not. Look at that simple beanie she’s wearing; it’s the latest Chanel one from this year!” I ignored them completely. Maya was biting her lower lip hard. It was as if we had been thrown back seven years, with her bowing her head submissively as I walked past Elias and her. “I’m sorry, we have to go.” The crowd dispersed, uninterested. A flash of resentment and unwillingness appeared in Maya’s eyes as she glanced back at me. Unwillingness? I shook my head. Honestly, she had no reason to be envious. After all, seven years ago, the one who was defeated, humiliated, and lost everyone… was me. When I reached the hospital room, my mom happily grabbed my hand, and we talked for a long time. “By the way, did you see Elias? Where is he?” I nodded, being vague. “He had something to do and left.” She sighed, hesitating. “The Sterling and Vance families have always been close. Elias visits often. Every time, he goes into your old room and just stays there for the whole afternoon.” “That violin you smashed… he went to America to find someone to fix it.” Mom began to ramble. “I still remember when you had that high fever and said you wanted plum-flavored ice cream. He ran around several cities to find it…” I looked up and smiled, interrupting her. “Mom, that was so many years ago. I’m married now!” “Oh, right. You guys didn’t end up together…” She tapped her head, talking herself to sleep. My dad, sitting on the other side of the room, made a shushing motion. We went out into the hallway. “She just wants to comfort you. She’s afraid you still haven’t moved on.” I suddenly felt a surge of self-mockery. Right, everyone said that. Everyone thought: how could I possibly be willing to give up the violin? How could I possibly cut off all contact with him for seven years? Dreams shattered, loves lost. The summer after high school graduation, everyone was worried about me. They were afraid I would do something drastic. They were afraid I would slit my wrists. In the end, even Maya came to my door to apologize. She was stammering, looking like she was about to cry. I coldly slammed the door. “Get out.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “404111”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was the secret girlfriend of America’s biggest pop star for seven years. On my birthday, he brought a group of friends along, but he called me by the wrong name. “Happy Birthday, Hannah!” Hannah was not me. She was his high school sweetheart, his first love. One of his friends asked: “Now that Hannah is back, aren’t you bored of using a disabled girl as a placeholder? Isn’t that getting old?” Leo pinched my ear, his voice lazy and careless. “The little deaf girl is fun. I’ll keep her around for now. I’ll string her along until I’m ready to propose to Hannah.” He had no idea. My hearing had just been restored. 01 The smile on my face froze as I listened to Leo continue. “Today is my birthday, but consider it a makeup gift I owe Hannah.” His friends started cheering, calling him a “hopeless romantic.” Finally, one of them stared directly at me and asked: “Aren’t you afraid she’ll find out?” Leo tilted his head arrogantly. “Afraid of what? That she won’t let go?” A wave of laughter erupted around us. “Honestly, a deaf girl hanging onto Leo for seven years—she’s already hit the jackpot.” “If she didn’t look thirty percent like Hannah, she’d never have stood a chance.” Amidst the mocking, Leo looked down and placed a party hat on my head. His face was inches from mine—the same high-fashion, aloof face that the world adored. Someone asked: “But she has been with you for seven years, and she is beautiful. If she actually leaves… could you really let her go?” Leo’s hand jerked, and the hat tilted. A moment later, he let out a cold, cynical laugh. “Run? Who said she was allowed to run?” The room went dead silent. No one took it as a joke. Considering the power of the Sterling family, and how wild and reckless Leo was, he was entirely capable of forcing me to stay. But why bother? Leo patiently adjusted my hat, his expression gentle, but his words were like icy blades. “I waited seven years for Hannah to come back to me. “I can’t wait to cherish her every single day. I could never bring myself to say a harsh word to her. “But with a substitute around, I have a place to vent my frustrations when I’m feeling frustrated, don’t I?” Everyone laughed. They laughed at how protective he was of Hannah, and they laughed at how pitiable and ridiculous I was. My nails dug into my palms. I was trembling all over from the pain. Leo pulled me into his arms and held his phone in front of me. He had typed: Be a good girl. It’s time to make a wish. Everyone is wishing you a Happy Birthday 😀 I covered my ears to block out their voices and blew out the candles. Everyone shouted in unison again: “Happy Birthday, Hannah!” Someone, I don’t know who, added: “And good luck on the proposal, Leo!” Leo sneered, “Didn’t you guys eat? Why are you so quiet?” The next second, my phone vibrated with a text from him: You little dummy, what did you wish for? Don’t wish for my album to sell well again. I’m already so famous I can’t handle it. I went rigid, forcing myself to hold back the tears. 02 Later, I opened old videos I had recorded. The brutal truth was revealed. Our entire seven-year relationship was nothing but a complete joke. There had never been a single birthday that Leo celebrated for me. I even remembered his first big performance. I had worked tirelessly day and night promoting him, eventually fainting from exhaustion. What I got in return was him saying to me: “Hannah, thank you for your hard work.” Even in bed, during our most intimate moments, when I was breathless with passion, the name he whispered with obsession was still “Hannah.” He never knew when to stop, and when he hurt me, I would desperately use sign language to tell him. It never worked. Afterwards, he would always say with a look of innocence: Honey, your hands are shaking so much. I can’t understand you. But lately, he had started asking me in sign language if it hurt. I had never seen him so gentle. Now I understood why. I once overheard him telling a friend: “I’m just practicing with the deaf girl. Hannah is delicate; I can’t afford to hurt her when the time comes.” A sour sense of betrayal flooded my heart, and tears began to stream down my face. How could anyone be so heartless? When he broke ties with the Sterling family and was penniless, chasing his music dream… The woman who abandoned him and went abroad was Hannah. The woman who stayed by his side, going from nothing to winning countless awards… was me. My phone lit up. It was a text from my doctor. Ms. Davis, are you certain you want to cancel your final round of treatment abroad? You’ve already made it through the painful cochlear implant surgery. Giving up treatment now would be a terrible shame. I wiped away my tears and replied: I’m going. I didn’t want Leo anymore. My flight was scheduled for a week from now. Coincidentally, that was also the night of Leo’s massive concert, where he planned to propose. That night, Leo didn’t come home. I received a text from Hannah: [Sister, don’t bother waiting up. Leo is playing the piano to lul me to sleep. I told him my insomnia is cured, but he just couldn’t relax. He insisted on seeing me fall asleep before leaving.] [You tell me, it’s been seven years. How does he still remember everything so perfectly?] Attached to the text was a photo. Taken over Hannah’s bare shoulder in a tank top. A man was playing the piano. He was wearing a black t-shirt and a vintage silver necklace. That high-fashion, aloof face was impossibly gentle under the warm light of the floor lamp. His long fingers danced across the black and white keys, as if he were caressing a lover’s body. Hannah continued to gloat: [I have to go. He caught me on my phone and he’s getting upset.] After all these years, she still couldn’t stand to see me happy. But I didn’t want to fight her for him. Leo was tainted. I didn’t want him. 03 The next day. On a reality TV show, Hannah lost a game and had to take a penalty. She was wearing a white, off-the-shoulder dress, lying on the ground, her eyes red. An overweight male celebrity was on top of her, doing push-ups as part of the penalty. To the side, Leo leaned casually against a railing, twirling his bone ring on his index finger. When the male celebrity stumbled, Leo finally lost his patience. He muttered a curse, walked over, and kicked the man away. With a dark face, Leo took his place to complete the penalty, having Hannah sit on his back instead, causing the fans to erupt in screams. Hannah, appearing frightened, wrapped both arms tightly around Leo’s veiny neck. The person sitting next to me was baffled. “This is weird. Leo is an A-lister; why would he even agree to be on this show?” “Even weirder, that guy is usually so cold and doesn’t tolerate anyone, but he’s willingly letting her sit on him…” I curled my lips into a bitter smile. Because she was Hannah, his high school sweetheart. The next game involved randomly selecting audience members to guess song titles. The moment he saw me, Leo froze while adjusting his earpiece, a frown crossing his face. But he quickly looked down and continued helping Hannah adjust hers. The music started. Leo’s vocals were incredible, and his stage presence was effortlessly cool. The spotlight hit his perfect face, eliciting screams from the crowd. When the host asked for the answer, I replied plainly: “I’m sorry, I don’t recognize it.” The entire stadium went into an uproar. This was Leo Sterling’s recent global hit, a song that had won countless awards. The fans were furious: “Is something wrong with her ears?! How could she not know this song?!” “Replace her! Get her off the stage! Get out! Get out!” Only Leo remained utterly cold. He kept one hand in his pocket, lifting his eyelids to glare at me with those almond-shaped eyes. He was angry because I had forgotten that I was his “secret” girlfriend, meant to be kept in the dark. He was even angrier that a substitute was flaunting herself in front of the real thing. Suddenly, glow sticks were thrown at me. A sharp plastic one hit me near the corner of my eye, drawing blood. For an instant, Leo’s brows knitted together, and he started walking toward me. But Hannah grabbed the edge of his jacket. She didn’t say anything, just bit her lower lip, and that was enough to make him stop in his tracks. He forgot about the girl huddled in a ball amidst the falling glow sticks, clutching herself in pain. He softly comforted Hannah: “Don’t be afraid, I’m here.” After the fiasco, Hannah took the stage and won the game. I had to take the penalty—being pushed into the pool. By the poolside. Hannah, with her back to the camera, smiled triumphantly: “Seven years wasn’t enough, was it? His heart still belongs to me. I heard Leo has been calling you Hannah for seven years?” I looked at her calmly, pulled out my phone, and typed: I’ve done what you wanted. Give me my necklace back. The song you just sang is one I wrote in high school. I have no problem exposing you. Hannah’s face went pale. She let out a cold, resentful laugh through gritted teeth. Suddenly, she grabbed my hand and pushed me into the pool, falling in with me. The icy water submerged my nose and mouth. I panicked, thrashing wildly. Soon, I heard Leo’s desperate voice: “Get the hell out of the way! Dammit, why is the pool so deep?” Hannah cried out: “Leo, save Chloe first!” A strong hand violently yanked my hand away from where I was clutching Hannah. Leo roared: “Chloe Vance! Let go! Are you trying to drown Hannah?!” The icy water pierced my bones, and my heart slowly went numb. This time, he didn’t get my name wrong. I suddenly remembered Leo’s very first performance. I was carrying应援 (supporting) materials and got tired. I sat down in a dark corner where the light couldn’t reach, just to catch my breath. On stage, Leo was in the spotlight, the center of attention. Below the stage, fans waved glow sticks, screaming their applause. I could neither hear the singing nor the cheering. In my silent world, only Leo’s silhouette existed. He was a light that had illuminated my dark and lonely youth, and now he was still shining brightly. Suddenly, the crowd surged. I was pushed down and couldn’t get back up. The man on stage dropped his microphone, jumped off the stage, and stumbled through the crowd. He knelt down and wrapped his arms tightly around me. The blood from his forehead dripped onto my lips. Leo… Is it because you were afraid of damaging her substitute? Then why did you stroke my head over and over, telling me not to be afraid? Then why, when we were seventeen… 04 When I was seventeen, I lived in Hannah’s shadow. After my mother married her father. My stepfather praised a new song I had written. The next minute, Hannah tore up the sheet music. “You deaf freak, if you ever dare to write music again, I’ll punch your mouth in!” She hated me. Along with her friends, she would stomp on my hearing aids, mock the way I spoke, and even spread nasty rumors about me. Yet she was still the perfect, sweet student in the teachers’ eyes. So, when I was framed for stealing a bracelet. She cried as she told the teacher, her mouth moving rapidly. And I, due to long-term hearing loss, spoke slowly and strangely. Under the teacher’s disgusted gaze, I slowly closed my mouth. The injustice was suffocating, swelling from my chest all the way to my eyes. A boy who had been reading in the corner suddenly let out a sarcastic laugh. He expertly used sign language to tell me: Dummy, no one understands what you’re saying. Don’t you know how to write it down? He slapped paper and a pen down in front of me, looked at the teacher, and said slowly: “Teacher, I believe Chloe. Let her write down what she wants to say.” Behind the boy, the sunlight streamed through the ivy covering the window, reflecting in the black pupils beneath his fragmented bangs. After I was proven innocent, he pulled me away. Under Hannah’s practically incendiary gaze. Leo personally removed the earring from his left ear and put it on mine. His voice was right by my ear, loud enough for Hannah to hear. He said: “My grandmother was deaf, too. Don’t be afraid. If she bullys you again, press the button on the earring, and the other earring will sense it, and I’ll appear.” That moment of heartbeat actually stretched over ten years. 05 When I woke up, the window of the hospital was framed with swaying ivy. As if that summer again, vibrant green, until a heated argument cut short the silence. The manager was roaring: “You’re crazy! Hannah was nearly trampled, and you’re still protecting that other woman?! Did you forget she accompanied you through all the competitions, promoted you, begged people to give you data?!” The twenty-seven-year-old Leo coldly spoke up: “Did I ask her to?” The manager asked again: “Then let her go, okay? Stop torturing her.” “…Why should I? She was the one who threw herself at me. No.” “I have to remind you, you’re about to propose to Hannah, man!” “I know! I only love Hannah. Hannah is back. Whether her name is Chloe Vance, Sarah Smith, or Emily Johnson, it’s all the same to me. I just… need some time. When I’m tired of it, I’ll naturally let her go.” Leo suddenly grabbed his forehead, clearly impatient as he continued: “Also, don’t tell her about the proposal. I’m afraid she’ll make a scene. “She actually tried to kill Hannah today. She’s completely insane. Who does she think she is?! “She really thinks I’m some kind of music-obsessed idiot who would actually marry a deaf woman?” He got up and strode away. Behind him, the manager raised his voice, asking question after question: “Who does she think she is?! She’s the thirteen-year-old vocal award-winning genius. The girlfriend who sacrificed everything to be with you for ten years.” “Did you forget? Your biggest wish used to be for her to hear you sing. “Medical technology is advancing so fast these days, if Chloe actually hears one day, don’t regret it!”

The room was pitch black. I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him. “Do you like this lace set? The one you were looking at last time?” I pulled my boyfriend’s hand, pressing it against my chest. Suddenly, his body went rigid. His breathing hitched, growing erratic. I thought he was just being shy, so I forcefully pushed him back onto the sofa. My hand trailed down the hard ridges of his abs. But the very next second, my wrist was seized in a vice-like grip. “Who are you? What exactly do you think you’re doing?” The voice was deep, crisp, and aristocratic—and cold enough to freeze hell over. Reality crashed over me. That was not my boyfriend. And worse… that voice sounded terrifyingly familiar. It sounded exactly like my company’s aloof, notoriously untouchable CEO. 1 Click. The wall switch was flipped, and the room was flooded with light. Staring at the devastatingly handsome, fiercely cold face sculpted like a Greek god in front of me, I felt the blood rush all the way to the tips of my ears. I was still straddling his lap. One thin strap of my lingerie had slipped down my shoulder. I scrambled off him in an absolute panic. While putting as much distance between myself and Alexander Sterling as humanly possible, I snatched my coat off the floor and wrapped it tightly around my body. Today was my one-year anniversary with my boyfriend, Liam. I had agreed to meet him at this hotel. And underneath my coat, I was wearing the sheer, lace lingerie he had been eyeing online for weeks. Wearing it felt practically like wearing nothing at all. I had been forced to work late, so I arrived at the hotel after him. Liam had texted saying he left a keycard for me at the front desk. I grabbed the card and headed straight up. Wanting to give him a surprise, I didn’t bother turning on the lights when I walked in. I just went straight for the ambush. But looking around now… The ultra-luxurious penthouse decor. The aristocratic, irritated man sitting on the sofa. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I had taken the wrong master keycard and walked into the wrong suite. “I… I am so sorry, Mr. Sterling! I… I think I’m in the wrong room!” I hung my head, absolutely mortified, not daring to meet his eyes. Thinking about what I had just done to him in the dark, I was ready for the ground to swallow me whole. “…” Alexander maintained his usual, terrifying composure. He casually straightened his suit jacket and stood up from the sofa. “So… this was just a misunderstanding?” He stepped toward me. At six-foot-two, his presence was overwhelmingly oppressive. He blocked out the overhead light. I was forced to look up, meeting those dark, bottomless eyes. “Yes. I… I was here to see my boyfriend. I took the wrong card.” I swallowed hard, struggling to get the words out. “…” Silence was my only answer. Alexander looked down at me, his gaze heavy. His Adam’s apple bobbed once in his throat. That tiny movement made my heart pound with inexplicable anxiety. I waited for my sentence. After all, assaulting a stranger in the dark definitely qualified as workplace harassment. But a second later, Alexander took a step back. “Get out.” Two simple words. My heart, which had been lodged in my throat, finally dropped back into my chest. I figured he had decided to let me off the hook. I gave him a frantic bow and fled the room as if my life depended on it. 2 The moment I stepped into the hallway, my phone rang. “Chloe, are you at the hotel yet? I’ve been waiting in the room forever,” Liam’s familiar voice came through the speaker. It helped pull my chaotic thoughts back to reality. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my voice. “Liam, my stomach is suddenly killing me. Let’s take a raincheck.” After the absolute disaster that just happened, I was in no mood to be romantic. Liam sounded disappointed, but he came down to the lobby shortly after. “Are you okay? What happened?” he asked with faux concern when he saw me. “I don’t know… probably just exhausted. I’ve been working so much overtime lately,” I said, putting on a pained expression. “Let me take you home, then.” He patted my head and played the considerate boyfriend, driving me back to my apartment. 3 Once I got home, I tossed and turned all night. It was just too embarrassing. Walking into the wrong room was bad enough. But it had to be the CEO’s room. And I had pinned him to a couch, kissed him, and felt him up. At our corporate headquarters, Alexander Sterling sat at the very top of the food chain. Rumor had it he was completely uninterested in women, living a sterile, disciplined life. He was a billionaire most people only ever looked up at from afar. Most employees never even got the chance to breathe the same air as him. And I… I had practically desecrated the man. Was a termination letter waiting for me tomorrow?! I went to work the next day with massive dark circles under my eyes, practically a walking ghost. Fortunately, the entire day passed without a single incident. Nothing happened. I held onto a shred of hope, surviving until it was almost time to clock out. Then, HR suddenly sent out a blast: an all-hands meeting in the main conference room. It wasn’t long before Alexander walked in. He was wearing a charcoal-grey tailored suit that highlighted his broad shoulders and model-like physique. With features sharp enough to cut glass, he looked like he belonged on a billboard. The moment he stepped into the room, it was like a spotlight hit him. All eyes were glued to him. And just like always, he radiated an untouchable, freezing distance. After Alexander spoke, a few other executives took their turns. I hid myself perfectly in the sea of employees. He didn’t glance in my direction even once. A guy like Alexander—a brilliant, young prodigy CEO—would never waste his time caring about a nobody like me. He was a big shot. He had bigger things to worry about. He probably hadn’t even given last night a second thought. Good. At least my job was safe. When I got home, I took a long, hot bath, feeling a massive weight lift off my shoulders. But that night, lying in bed, fragments of the previous evening kept flashing through my mind. Given the massive difference in our sizes… He definitely could have pushed me away immediately. Why didn’t he do anything? Why did he just let me put my hands all over him? Thinking about it, my face burned, and my heart started racing all over again. 4 A few peaceful days went by. Then, my department manager handed me a stack of files and told me to deliver them to the CEO. Normally, a low-level corporate drone like me had exactly zero chances to interact with the top brass. And after the hotel incident, I really, really wanted to remain invisible to him. But my manager insisted these needed Mr. Sterling’s signature ASAP. I had no way to refuse, so I bit the bullet and knocked on his office door. When I walked in, the chair behind the massive mahogany desk was empty. I hesitated for a second, planning to just drop the files on the desk and run. But the moment I turned around, I found Alexander standing right behind me. I jumped out of my skin, my elbow clipping the desk and sending the files scattering across the floor. “S-sorry! I’m so sorry, Mr. Sterling!” My tongue tied into knots as I dropped to my knees, frantically scrambling to gather the papers. Alexander crouched down next to me. A faint, clean scent of cedarwood washed over me. “Why are you so nervous? I’m not a monster. I don’t eat people.” His voice was a deep, magnetic baritone. It sent a shiver straight down my spine. We were so close. The atmosphere in the office suddenly shifted, growing thick and heavy. I kept my head down, absolutely refusing to look at his face. “I-I’m not.” Alexander handed me the files he had picked up. My fingers accidentally brushed against his. I yanked my hand back like I had been electrocuted. Whether he noticed my reaction or not, a low, breathy chuckle escaped his lips. “You certainly weren’t this timid when we were in private.” The next second, he stood up and walked back to his leather chair. His face was perfectly calm. Untouchable. As if that teasing comment hadn’t just come out of his mouth. Fine. He was mocking me for my wild behavior the other night. What could I do? I just had to pretend I didn’t hear it. With my face burning, I placed the neatly stacked files back on his desk. “Mr. Sterling, these need your review and signature. If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave.” “Mm.” 5 Liam and I worked at the same company. The difference was, I was just a regular entry-level employee, while he was a mid-level manager with a decent track record. In a massive, competitive corporation like Sterling Enterprises, he was considered a rising star. Ever since we left the hotel that day, Liam had been incredibly distant. He was “busy” with work during the day, and at night, he would leave my texts on read. I figured he was mad because I hadn’t slept with him. For the whole year we had been dating, I had been fairly traditional. We had stuck to kissing and cuddling. Every time he tried to take it further, I found an excuse. I only agreed to the hotel because it was our one-year anniversary. But in the end, nothing happened anyway. Liam was a normal guy. It made sense that he was frustrated. Thinking about it that way, I did feel a little guilty. A few days later, Liam suddenly texted me late at night. He said his birthday was coming up, and he wanted me to wait for him at the exact same hotel. He said he wanted a birthday surprise. I knew exactly what he meant. That night, I went to the front desk, confirmed the room, and went upstairs to the suite he had booked. He texted saying he was running late. So, I took a shower, sprayed his favorite perfume, changed into a silk slip dress that was even more scandalous than the last one, and waited. I don’t know how much time passed before I heard the door click. I jumped off the bed with a smile, ready to greet him. But I froze in my tracks. Because there were two sets of footsteps. “What if your girlfriend finds out you brought me to a hotel?” It was a woman’s voice. Sweet, but dripping with entitlement. I recognized it instantly. It was Vanessa Kensington, the heiress to a massive hotel empire that our company frequently partnered with. Liam had been the point of contact on a few of their joint ventures. “She won’t. She’s too dumb to notice anything.” “Besides, I’ve been wanting to dump her anyway. If she finds out, she finds out.” Hearing Liam’s words, I stood completely paralyzed. I pulled out my phone and scrolled up to the texts “Liam” had sent me earlier. The red flags were suddenly glaring. The texts telling me to come to the hotel… they weren’t in Liam’s style. He always used perfect punctuation, even for the shortest sentences. Always ending with a period. But the texts from earlier didn’t have a single punctuation mark. The person who invited me here tonight wasn’t Liam. 6 “I’m honestly curious why you even agreed to date her. In my eyes, she’s incredibly low-class. She’s miles beneath you,” Vanessa said, her voice teasing but laced with venom. “Only because she wouldn’t leave me alone. She was practically glued to me.” “She comes from a broken home, single mom, desperate for affection. Show her an ounce of kindness and she latches on like a parasite.” “When we started dating, she was the one throwing herself at me. Plus, she’s an underling in my department. I have to see her every single day.” “I just didn’t want to make things awkward at the office, so I threw her a bone.” The suite was massive. I was standing in the master bedroom, while they were in the adjacent living room. Liam’s words drifted clearly through the cracked door. I felt the blood turn to ice in my veins. I grew up poor. I was timid and sensitive. Dating a rising star like Liam always felt like I was punching above my weight. He was a manager; I was a nobody with no background and no connections. He had pursued me first. But once we got together, I treasured the relationship far more than he did. Growing up the way I did, I was used to cold shoulders. Genuine kindness was rare. Liam treated me well in the beginning, and it warmed my heart. It also made me terrifyingly dependent on him. When he was sick, I stayed up all night taking care of him. On my days off, I went to his apartment to do his laundry, cook, and clean. Maybe to outsiders, it looked pathetic. But I did it willingly. Because, just like he said, I was desperate for love. I had made him my entire support system. As long as he was happy, I was happy. As long as he loved me, I would do anything. But it turned out, my unconditional love was just a joke to him. To him, I was cheap. Pathetic. A charity case. I looked down at the tiny scraps of silk and lace I was wearing—the agonizing effort I had put into trying to please him. It was hilarious. My pride kicked in. I refused to let him catch me looking like this. The worst outcome was just him admitting to the affair and dumping me. He had nothing to lose. I was the one being thrown away. I was the one hurting. But I refused to be his victim. I didn’t want to be a pathetic little bug anymore. Even if we broke up, this time, I was going to be the one calling the shots. Without thinking, I bolted out of the bedroom and made a run for the front door. “Who’s there?!” Hearing the commotion, Liam snapped to attention and chased after me. 7 I ran fast. The second I burst out of the suite, I sprinted toward the corner of the hallway. But I miscalculated. I crashed headfirst into a chest that felt as solid as a brick wall. “Chloe Bennett—” Hearing that familiar, deep, cedar-laced voice, I rubbed my forehead and looked up in a panic. “Mr. Sterling?!” Seeing Alexander here only made my panic spike. But the look on his face was entirely unreadable. “This is the second time, Chloe.” “The same trick loses its charm if you overuse it.” His dark, piercing eyes dragged over my body. In my rush, I hadn’t even grabbed my coat. The silk slip dress left absolutely nothing to the imagination. I was practically naked. His imposing figure and heavy gaze made me feel completely exposed. The way he was analyzing me made my cheeks burn. Did he think I was purposely throwing myself at him? I couldn’t explain myself right now. This wasn’t the time. Gathering every ounce of my courage, I grabbed his arm and yanked him around the corner. I used his massive frame to shield my body. “Mr. Sterling, I swear I didn’t do this on purpose. Not the first time, and not now. I—” I babbled, trying to explain. But his eyes slowly dragged from my face, inching downward. His Adam’s apple bobbed heavily. His eyes darkened, and he deliberately looked away. Right then, I heard Liam’s heavy footsteps echoing down the hall behind us. “Don’t let him see me. Mr. Sterling, please.” Like a drowning woman clinging to a life preserver, I grabbed the lapels of his suit, begging him. Seeing the frantic tears welling in the corners of my eyes, a flicker of something resembling pity crossed his stoic face. He glanced over his shoulder. “Who are you hiding from?” I was too tense to get a word out. But a second later, just as I thought he was going to shove me aside, Alexander stepped into my space. He pressed me firmly against the wall, using his broad shoulders and tall frame to cage me in perfectly. Under his massive shadow, I was completely hidden. I let out a breath of relief. Just as I was about to whisper my thanks, Alexander lowered his head. Soft, cool lips pressed against mine. I froze. My brain completely short-circuited. Alexander Sterling was kissing me! My entire body went rigid, but I didn’t dare move a muscle. A clean, minty scent flooded my senses. It started out cool and restrained, but quickly deepened into something far more aggressive. He kissed me until my mind went completely blank. Pure instinct took over, and my fists tightened in his shirt. “Didn’t you want to stay hidden?” “I’m helping you.” “But if I’m helping… I need to collect some interest.” He murmured the words against my lips between breaths, his forehead resting against mine. I listened to him, totally dazed. But then I realized the footsteps were right next to us. Liam was here. I could feel it. He was standing just a few feet behind Alexander. I don’t know if Liam recognized the CEO, or if he just awkwardly realized he was interrupting a couple hooking up in the hallway. Liam stopped. He didn’t come any closer. A moment later, he turned around and walked away. Crisis averted. I let out a shaky breath. But I quickly realized I had just thrown myself out of the frying pan and into a much, much deeper fire. I instinctively pushed at Alexander’s shoulders, silently begging him to stop. He ignored me entirely. With one large hand, he caught both of my flailing wrists and pinned them against the wall above my head.

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The killers were caught quickly. But the mastermind was practically untouchable. Not only did he walk free, but he even sent people to threaten the victims’ grandparents. Driven to absolute despair, the old man knocked on the door of my flower shop. The very next day, the police came looking for me. Because the only thing left of the mastermind—the heir to the Vance dynasty—was his severed head, casually discarded at the entrance of the police precinct. 01 When the police knocked on the glass door of my flower shop, I was changing the water for the displays. These flowers were incredibly delicate. One moment of carelessness, and they would wilt completely. I meticulously plucked a few dried leaves from a stem before gesturing for the officers to let themselves in. I recognized the man leading the pair. His name was Carter Hayes. He was the detective in charge of the horrific case that had been dominating the local news for weeks. I had to admit, Detective Hayes was a gentleman. He stood quietly to the side, not saying a word, waiting for me to finish my work. “Welcome to the Golden Acacia Florist. Would you like a bouquet of golden acacias, Detective?” I offered him an apologetic smile for making them wait, lifting a bundle of bright, golden-yellow flowers in my hands. The golden acacias were blooming beautifully, radiating life, yet Hayes inexplicably furrowed his brow at the sight of them. He steadied himself, his probing gaze landing squarely on me. “No need to be nervous, ma’am. We’re just conducting some routine inquiries. Do you happen to have any impression of the Henderson family who lives at the end of the alley?” The image of a lively, adorable little girl surfaced in my mind. She was so innocent, brimming with life. There was a mirror in the flower shop. In it, I could clearly see the corners of my mouth slowly ticking upward into a smile, before dropping inch by inch into an icy flatline. I heard my own voice, sharp and entirely unfriendly, shoot back. “Didn’t they say the case was closed? What else is there for you to ask?” 02 A few months ago, the little granddaughter of the Henderson family at the end of the alley went missing. Her name was Lily. Because her family was extremely poor, Lily was mature for her age, yet she miraculously managed to hold onto the vibrant energy of a child. Everyone living on Acacia Alley loved teasing her. The neighbors were always smiling and stuffing all kinds of snacks into her little hands. Every time, Lily’s face would turn bright red. She would politely thank them before skipping away to a corner where she thought no one was watching. In this impoverished, grime-covered alley where the air was perpetually thick with despair and anxiety, that little girl was a rare sanctuary for everyone’s hearts. So, when news broke that Lily was missing, the entire neighborhood was terrified. Everyone rallied together, searching every possible nook and cranny in the area. At first, the investigation went smoothly. Her teacher said Lily left school with her classmates, so we called in her friends. The little girls, who were close with Lily, pointed out the exact spot where they last saw her. There was a small diner nearby, and its security camera pointed right at that intersection. The footage dutifully revealed the truth: at that exact spot, a black SUV had snatched Lily off the street. The license plate was crystal clear. With the police cooperating, the clues unraveled flawlessly. But when the furious neighbors and the police kicked down the doors of that lavish, suburban mansion… the scene inside traumatized every single person present. A group of trust-fund frat boys, black-out drunk and high out of their minds, were sprawled haphazardly across the living room. Some were still mumbling deliriously. They looked demonic, yet they were dressed in designer clothes. It seemed whatever repressed, animalistic urges they harbored had just been violently unleashed. It made people sick to their stomachs. And Lily… was lying on a massive, rectangular dining table. Her tiny body was covered in dark purple bruises, with some unidentified, vile liquid dripping off her skin onto the mahogany wood. Lily was dead. And before she died, she had suffered inhuman torture. Every person in that room saw red. The police stuck to the rules and stopped the crowd from lynching them right there, but the way they dragged those boys out by their hair and threw them into the cruisers was far from gentle. The aftermath aligned with exactly what the public wanted. The media blew the story up. The city was in an uproar. Millions of people took to the internet, demanding the death penalty for these monsters. The case was handed over to the district court, and the prosecutor filed the charges. The chain of evidence was airtight: witnesses, physical evidence, and even the DNA of at least three different men extracted from Lily’s body. The initial verdict? Death penalty for all of them. People wept. People cheered. They mourned the loss of a little girl’s life, but celebrated that the long arm of the law had finally delivered justice. Lily had been abandoned by her parents at birth and lived solely with her elderly grandparents. After the verdict, a man in a tailored suit showed up at the Hendersons’ house at the end of the alley. He offered the old couple a massive sum of money, asking them to sign a letter of forgiveness for the court. It was, undeniably, a life-changing amount of money. Enough to ensure the old couple would never have to worry about a single bill for the rest of their lives. But Mr. Henderson firmly rejected it. Mrs. Henderson chased the man out of the house with a broom. The neighbor to the east “accidentally” splashed a bucket of dirty mop water on him. The neighbor to the west “accidentally” dropped a raw egg from a second-story window. By the time that well-dressed corporate lawyer fled the alley, he was a total mess. His expensive suit was covered in grime, but he still screamed back at them, swearing they would pay for this. No one took it seriously. Until everything completely flipped. 03 “What do you mean the footage is gone?!” Mr. Henderson was in his seventies, his beard entirely white. Right now, he was shaking uncontrollably from sheer rage. Stan, the middle-aged owner of the diner, nervously rubbed his greasy hands on his apron, refusing to meet the old man’s eyes. Mrs. Henderson trembled as she raised her hand to slap him, but an apologetic police officer stepped in to hold her back. “The camera… it just happened to break those few days. All the footage is lost…” Stan peeked out from behind the officer’s back. Disgust was plastered across Detective Hayes’s face. The police despised people like this, but their duty required them to stand between the two parties. No security footage meant a critical link in the chain of evidence was gone. And a voice in the back of their heads told them this was only the beginning. The color drained from the old couple’s faces. They gripped Hayes’s hands, their frail fingers digging in desperately, looking for a pillar of hope. “Detective… those animals are still going to get what’s coming to them, right?” Hayes didn’t know how to answer. He nodded in silence, unsure if he was trying to convince them or himself. But even though Hayes stayed quiet, someone else spoke up. Stan clenched his jaw, hesitating before blurting it out: “You guys have no idea what kind of titans are backing those kids! Just let it go. Lily is gone, but you two are still alive. Think about yourselves for once.” Everyone present knew Stan wasn’t a bad guy. He was just trying to give them a brutal reality check, but they still glared at him furiously. Obviously, the Hendersons weren’t going to take his advice. They insisted on appealing. Even if it cost them their lives, they were going to get justice for Lily. Then, things took a horrific turn. Physical evidence mysteriously vanished. Witnesses changed their statements. The once-airtight chain of evidence was systematically erased. Security cameras across the district conveniently malfunctioned. The black SUV that took Lily turned into a pile of ash in a junkyard fire outside city limits. The parents of the kids who walked home with Lily forced their children to keep their mouths shut. They wouldn’t say a single word. Even the schoolteacher changed her tune. She claimed Lily wandered off alone, telling the press that Lily was actually a “manipulative, deceitful little girl” who liked seeking attention from older men. Overnight, the narrative shifted. The internet sleuths who had once championed the old couple were hijacked by paid troll farms and powerful influencers. They turned their vicious abuse toward the victims. “These little angels know exactly what they’re doing, age doesn’t matter.” “Told you guys not to jump the gun. Look at the plot twist! Y’all are clowns.” “Honestly, good riddance. Disgusting kid.” Many people in the alley began receiving threats. Only poor people lived on Acacia Alley. To them, losing a job was a catastrophe worse than death. So, one by one, they began distancing themselves from the Hendersons. They avoided them like they were homeless beggars on the street, or carrying a plague. With looks of pity mixed with utter revulsion. The final straw that crushed the old couple was the appellate court’s ruling. The higher court closed the case. The new verdict: two of the boys received life sentences, three got ten years, and the rest were acquitted. Among the acquitted were the men whose DNA was found on Lily. They were the true masterminds, yet they completely slipped through the cracks of the law. Even the ones who did get sentenced could easily use “good behavior” to get their time reduced. Once the heat died down, they would be right back to their lavish, billionaire lifestyles. A massive, invisible hand was toying with the Hendersons. When the lawyer tried to bribe and threaten him, Mr. Henderson didn’t break. When Stan tried to talk sense into him, Mr. Henderson didn’t break. But now, his friends were being threatened and hurt, reluctantly abandoning him. His wife had been threatened multiple times. Just last week, a speeding car “accidentally” hopped the curb while she was buying groceries, nearly crippling her. She was currently lying in a hospital bed, comatose. The windows of his house were maliciously smashed in. Red paint was splashed across his front door. Unrelenting phone calls flooded his landline at all hours, hurling unspeakable abuse. The police tried to help, but arresting the thugs doing the vandalism didn’t solve the problem. They couldn’t touch the billionaire dynasties pulling the strings. Mr. Henderson was terrified, but he refused to let it go. This simple old man, who had lived an honest life, couldn’t understand why bad people weren’t facing their karma. “God is blind,” he wept. But the mastermind, Tristan Vance, just looked down at him with supreme arrogance, like a giant staring at an insignificant ant. “She was just a piece of street trash. She died, so what? And you really thought you could sue me?” “I’m not just going to ruin them. I’m going to crush every single person around you, one by one, until you’re on your knees crying and begging for mercy.” 04 He was so close. Truly, Mr. Henderson was inches away from giving up. But someone whispered to him: Go to the flower shop at the end of the alley. Ask for a bouquet of golden acacias. Someone there will help you. And so, the white-haired old man stepped into my flower shop for the first time in his life. He didn’t come to buy a rose for a sweetheart. He came to buy justice for a victim. I smiled and handed him a bouquet of brilliant golden flowers. It was like handing him a torch in the dead of night—faint, but burning with unwavering resolve. The next day, a news broadcast sent shockwaves through the entire city. Tristan Vance was dead. The heir to the untouchable Vance dynasty. The monster who treated lives like playthings. The mastermind behind the case. He was dead. His head had been sawed off, stuffed into a cheap black trash bag, and casually dumped on the steps of the police precinct. A passing sanitation worker thought it was just regular trash. The moment he picked it up, the bizarre weight and shape terrified him so badly he fell backwards onto the pavement. The bag dropped from his hands. The head rolled out. Tristan Vance’s bloodshot, terrified eyes stared directly at the front doors of the precinct. That same mouth—the one that had spewed lies at press conferences, the one that had viciously cursed and threatened the old couple—was slightly ajar, as if he had died begging for mercy. As for his body, the police still haven’t found it. A death this gruesome instantly made everyone think of a revenge killing. And everyone knew exactly who his biggest enemy was—old Mr. Henderson at the end of Acacia Alley. And I… was the only person Mr. Henderson had spoken to the day before Tristan died. That was why the police came looking for me. But I was just a humble florist. All I did was ask an old man if he wanted to buy some golden acacias. What could I possibly know? I feigned a look of complete bewilderment, smiling faintly as I looked at Hayes. “So, Detective Hayes, are you suspecting I killed him?” Hayes and his partner froze. They clearly didn’t expect me to be so blunt. “No, we’re just following protocol. We have to conduct routine inquiries,” Hayes replied gently. They had zero evidence pointing to me, so their attitude was exceptionally polite. I nodded and answered all their questions with absolute transparency. There were cameras inside the flower shop. They proved that at the time of Tristan’s death, I was in the shop the entire time. The little interlude ended quickly. Hayes led his men out of my store. Right before he walked out, Hayes seemed to sense something. He whipped his head around, locking eyes with my beaming smile. He hesitated for a second before saying, “If you think of anything that might be relevant, please let us know.” I nodded, my smile deepening. “Of course.” 05 Tristan was dead, and the Vance family was practically tearing the city apart in their rage. Dripping in diamonds, Mrs. Vance screamed her lungs out inside the police station, her heavily botoxed face twisting into a hideous snarl. “That little piece of trash died, so what?! How can you even compare her to my son?! If you don’t find the killer, every single one of you will lose your jobs!” No one dared talk back to her. For a titan like the Vance family, getting a few working-class people fired was child’s play, even if they were cops. In the face of people like them, the so-called law and its rules were nothing more than blank pieces of paper, things they could trample over at will. I saw a young rookie cop in the corner clenching his fists. I gently patted Mr. Henderson’s trembling hand, comforting him. I didn’t know if he was shaking because Tristan was dead, or because he was enraged by Mrs. Vance’s words. His face was a swirl of complex emotions. After a long while, he just let out a heavy sigh. However, compared to the Vance family and Mr. Henderson, there were two people reacting much more violently to the news. Bryce Dalton and Spencer Croft. The other two masterminds. Ever since Tristan’s head was found, those two had been on the verge of a total psychological breakdown. They were even starting to show signs of clinical paranoia. The two rich kids cried and begged their families to pressure the police for 24/7 protection. It made life absolute hell for Hayes and his team. A few days later, Hayes showed up at my flower shop sporting massive dark circles under his eyes. The normally handsome detective looked haggard and miserable. He claimed he was just “browsing,” while his eyes darted around analyzing the shop. I knew Hayes hadn’t dropped his suspicion of me. He was like a bloodhound that had caught a whiff of copper, casually probing his prey while pretending not to care. After a while, Hayes seemed to deflate. He started making small talk, subtly steering the conversation toward the case and complaining about the billionaires breathing down his neck. “We were finally making a breakthrough, and they just keep rushing us. They’ve had us working back-to-back shifts for days. That’s why I look like hell.” As he spoke, he was observing me through his peripheral vision, looking for even the slightest micro-expression on my face. I saw right through his little trap, but I had no intention of calling him out. I just smiled and poured him a cup of floral tea. Petals swirled in the hot water, creating ripples against the glass. “There’s no poison in this, is there?” Hayes suddenly blurted out. Before I could answer, he laughed and took a sip. I shook my head, putting on the perfect facade of a terrified, law-abiding citizen. “How could I dare? Poison a police officer?” Hayes gave a half-smile. “You wouldn’t dare touch a cop. But you’d dare touch a bunch of spoiled rich kids, wouldn’t you?” It sounded like a joke, but it was a loaded question. “Detective Hayes, do you know why they call this place Acacia Alley?” I didn’t answer his question. Instead, I looked directly into his exhausted eyes. Failing to find the crack in my armor he was looking for, disappointment flashed across his face. He lost interest in my riddle. Right on cue, his phone rang. He shot me an apologetic look and rushed out the door. I stood at the entrance, watching my customer hurry away. An inexplicable emotion bubbled up in my chest. Like admiring a struggling prey, or pitying a crying child. 06 Just two days later, right as the sun began to set, Hayes came charging back to the flower shop. He looked terrible. His eyes were bloodshot. He looked like a starving wolf staring me down. I knew exactly why. Bryce Dalton and Spencer Croft were dead. They were found in an abandoned hospital out in the suburbs. Their bodies were hooked up to dozens of IV tubes, covered in an impossible number of needle marks. It was as if an innocent little girl had been playing a game with them. Playing doctor and patient. The remaining frat boys were instantly paralyzed with fear. Some even voluntarily pleaded guilty just so they could hide in maximum-security prison. The titans backing them were furious. They felt their absolute authority was being challenged. On one hand, they hired private investigators. On the other, they doubled down on pressuring the police. But the killer had worked flawlessly. They found absolutely nothing. The evidence the police managed to dig up was pitiful. As if it were a sick joke, the security cameras in the relevant areas broke down at the perfect times. Some were smashed by neighborhood kids playing with rocks. Some were unplugged by shop owners closing up for the night. Some simply short-circuited from old age. In the end, the police got nothing from the footage. Their only real “victory” was forcing a struggling widow to pay for the camera her kid accidentally broke. Of course, looking at a single mother trying to survive, Hayes didn’t have the heart to press charges. Other clues vanished due to a million fragmented, coincidental reasons. The only real leads the police had came from the corpses. The coroner pointed out that decapitating a human being was not an easy task. The subsequent IV insertions on the other two boys were incredibly difficult. The needles intentionally bypassed major arteries to ensure both boys remained completely conscious and alive for the duration of the ordeal. To execute something with that level of precision, the killer had to have a deep medical background. Most likely an experienced surgeon or nurse. The killer used professional medical skills to make those little monsters die slowly in excruciating, hopeless agony. It was an incredibly personal revenge. There were plenty of doctors in the city, but none of them had a grudge against the frat boys. None of them were friends with Mr. Henderson. Furthermore, Hayes’s investigation revealed that every single medical professional in the district had rock-solid alibis. Not a single doctor was unaccounted for during the estimated time of death. The trail had gone cold again. But Hayes, like that stubborn bloodhound, firmly believed I was connected to it. “Tell me. The killer has done all of this… what exactly do they want?” I smiled, casually organizing the leftover flowers and wrapping paper from the day. “Maybe they just want the truth to come to light. They want the innocent vindicated, and they want every single monster to face the karma they deserve.” What a naive thought, Hayes wanted to say. You have no idea what kind of titans you’re up against. But thinking about what had happened over the last few days, he swallowed the words. His faith in the system was beginning to crack. After a long pause, Hayes managed to squeeze out a question. “If you were the killer… what would you do next?” He looked desperate, almost like he was begging the mastermind for a hint. But I knew this was just an act. He was using vulnerability to bait me into slipping up. I didn’t know why Hayes was so convinced I was the killer, but I was more than happy to play along. It was highly entertaining. I gave him an innocent smile and gently shook my head. “I’m not the killer. How would I know?” Watching the disappointment wash over him, I slowly continued, like a cat toying with a cornered mouse. “But if I were the killer, maybe you should start worrying about the Vance family’s corporate headquarters. Their malls. Their iconic skyscrapers.” Horror struck Hayes’s eyes. He hadn’t realized the targets would be that massive. He opened his mouth to shout something— BOOM. A deafening explosion echoed in the distance. That towering landmark. The commercial epicenter that symbolized the absolute wealth and authority of the elites. It was instantly engulfed in smoke, fire, and the sound of screaming sirens. I just stood there, smiling, looking exactly like I was greeting a customer at the door. 07 I was hauled into the precinct. Everyone stared at me with pure disgust. As if I were the unforgivable monster. But didn’t the real monsters just die? Thinking about that, I couldn’t help but smile again. They locked me in an interrogation room. A blinding light was aimed directly at my face. Hayes sat across from me, his expression lethal. Beside him sat a kind-looking, older detective, who spoke with a gentle tone. “Miss, if you confess to your methods and the details of the crimes now, we can still fight for a lighter sentence for you.” I helplessly spread my hands. “I’m more than happy to cooperate with you, officers. But I really didn’t do any of this.” “I have cameras in my shop, and I have alibis from my customers. Whatever you need, I can provide.” Business had been booming lately. I barely had a moment of free time. I hadn’t been alone for more than thirty consecutive minutes in weeks. I didn’t know the exact time of death the coroner established for those three demons, but I guessed my shop was full of people. Hayes slammed his hand onto the metal table, shouting his accusation. “You’re still lying! The cameras show you left your shop for a period of time on the day of the murder.” “So, please tell me, busy florist. Where did you take a cab to for those exact thirty minutes, and what exactly were you doing?!” But Hayes was destined to be disappointed. “Business has been too good. I ran out of wrapping paper, so I went to restock.” I answered him earnestly, not breaking eye contact. “No, let me tell you what happened,” Hayes said, flashing a victorious smirk. “You took a cab to a location near where Tristan Vance was staying. You caught his eye, lured him to a secluded area, and killed him.” Hayes pulled out his phone and played a piece of security footage. In the video, Tristan Vance suddenly noticed something off-camera. A sleazy, predatory grin spread across his face, and he walked out of the frame. The footage was blurry, and the angle was terrible, but it was the best the police could find. Later, the police found thousands of photos of teenage girls in Tristan’s room. It was obvious he had an absolute, sick obsession with girls of a certain demographic. And I happened to fit that exact demographic. That alone wasn’t enough to pin me down, but then they dug deeper. They found out that I had spent several months institutionalized in a psychiatric hospital a few years back. That meant it was highly possible I was the killer with the medical background. However, that hospital had since been shut down, leaving no records. My attending psychiatrist had passed away. There was no way to verify exactly what I had learned or experienced there. So, Hayes was just trying to bluff a confession out of me. I just smiled and asked politely. “What’s the matter, Detective Hayes? Do you solve cases by writing fiction now? Show me the evidence.” The truth was, even if they investigated the cab ride, the only conclusion they would find was that I had, in fact, gone to buy wrapping paper. A phone rang, interrupting Hayes just as he was about to explode. He answered it, glared at me, and hurriedly left the interrogation room, swapping in a rookie cop to take his place. I knew exactly why Hayes was so busy lately. The corporations owned by the Vance, Dalton, and Croft dynasties were experiencing relentless “accidents.” Countless employees were resigning en masse. Stock prices were plummeting. The police were running themselves ragged trying to manage the chaos.

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Rumor had it that Manhattan’s most elusive billionaire heir had the stamina of an absolute god. My sister and I decided to take turns being his girlfriend, cultivating our magic by absorbing his excess vitality through physical intimacy. One day, this gorgeous heir asked my sister: “What are snakes most afraid of? Arsenic or sulfur?” I thought our cover was blown. I immediately packed our bags, faked our deaths that very night, and dragged my sister running back to the deep woods where we belong. In the middle of the night, from my fresh grave, I smelled the heavenly scent of fried chicken. I popped my head out of the dirt for a bite. Behind me, two cold chuckles rang out. I turned to see two identical, impossibly handsome men staring down at me, their gazes icy. One said, “Bro, which one is this? I honestly can’t tell them apart.” The other smirked and said, “That one is mine. Just last night, she told me that when she died, I better leave an entire Popeyes family meal combo on her grave.” 01 My name is Tessa. Half a year ago, my sister Sienna and I realized our magical cultivation was too weak to maintain our human forms for long periods. So, we hunted down a high-quality human male—Weston Sinclair, the golden boy of New York high society—to dual-cultivate with and boost our magic. Mon-Wed-Fri: I cultivated with him. Tue-Thu-Sat: Sienna did. Sundays were Weston’s days off. We would feed him raw oyster shooters, maca root, and premium protein smoothies to help him recharge. To avoid blowing our cover, we used a shared fake name around him: Tessie. I have to admit. Weston was truly built different. Unlike traditional men who needed a cooldown period, he was ready to go all day, every day. Him! I’d use him in the morning! My sister would use him in the afternoon! I’d use him again before dinner, and my sister would take the night shift! One man doing the work of four. And, he was incredibly generous. If Sienna or I lingered our gaze on a designer bag for even a second, or casually mentioned liking something… By the next morning, it would be delivered to our penthouse. In just six months, our bank account balance had hit eight figures. We had so many luxury goods we didn’t know what to do with them. Cartier bracelets, solid gold bangles… they were practically spilling out of our closets. Sometimes, when Weston wasn’t around, I’d turn back into my snake form. I’d slither right through them. Playing ring toss. Wearing ten diamond bracelets at once, looking absolutely fabulous. I made Sienna take pictures and post them on my Instagram Close Friends story. The other wild snakes were dying of jealousy: [Tessa! Who’s your sugar daddy?! You’re living the absolute dream!] Of course, Weston was blocked from seeing those stories. 02 Today was Saturday. I had bought us VIP tickets for an exclusive hot pot place downtown. I was just waiting for Sienna to get home so we could head out. Finally, she walked through the door. I grabbed my Prada bag, eager to leave. But she looked pale. Terrified, even. I asked, “What’s wrong, sis? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Sienna practically ripped open the fridge, grabbed a chilled coconut water, and chugged the entire thing. Once she caught her breath, she said: “Tessa, guess what Weston asked me today?” I thought about it. “Did he ask if we wanted a yacht? A few days ago I told him I wanted a private yacht off the coast of Monaco to watch the night skyline. He nodded and said he’d arrange it.” Sienna shook her head frantically. “No! I wish it was that…” She took a deep breath, still looking traumatized. “He asked me, what are snakes most afraid of? Arsenic or sulfur? “Oh my god, Tessa, you have no idea. At the time, I was so excited. I was unboxing this new leather whip I bought online, fantasizing about how I was going to use it on him. “And then he drops that question! It killed the mood instantly. “Then, he looks at me all confused and asks, ‘Mommy, why aren’t you whipping me?’” I fell completely silent. “He called you Mommy? “And told you to whip him?” Sienna gave me a weird look. “No, Tessa, your priorities are totally messed up right now. “Shouldn’t the focal point be that our identities are compromised?! Shouldn’t we be packing our bags to flee the state?!” I looked at her, dead serious. “No, Sienna, listen to me! “Last week, I playfully swatted him with an iPhone charger cable, and he…” He instantly pinned me to the mattress and tied my wrists. He leaned in and growled, “Baby, do you need to be taught another lesson?” That night, he tormented me so thoroughly I almost went to the afterlife to meet our Great-great-great-grandmother, the Serpent Goddess. Now it was Sienna’s turn to be utterly bewildered. “Huh?! Weston is that aggressive with you? “I always have to initiate! He’s incredibly submissive and obedient with me. “Oh my god. Does he have a split personality disorder?” I slapped my thigh in a panic. “Don’t overthink it right now, sis! Let’s just get to the hot pot place! The 9-to-5 crowd is about to get off work, and there’s going to be a massive line!” Sienna: ? 03 Once we were safely seated at the hot pot restaurant. Sienna and I started gossiping about Weston again. The more we talked, the weirder it got. Her Weston was like a golden retriever. My Weston was like a dominant alpha wolf. What the hell was going on? I decided to make a post on Reddit to ask for advice: [What are the features of a Switch?] Helpful netizens quickly replied: [OP, do you mean the Nintendo Switch OLED or the Lite? The screens and battery life are totally different.] [Are you deciding between an Xbox and a Switch? I have both, I highly recommend the Switch.] Sienna replied from my phone: “No, guys, the switch I’m talking about isn’t that kind of switch. I’m talking about that kind of switch.” The internet was confused: [I don’t get it. Isn’t a Switch just a gaming console?] Forget it. They weren’t getting it. I deleted the post. I was boiling my crab sticks when I suddenly got an iMessage from Weston: [Just finished my board meeting. What are you doing?] I reluctantly put down my half-eaten crab stick. I took a picture of the bubbling, spicy hot pot and sent it to him. The juicy beef meatballs and tofu pouches were perfectly cooked, bobbing in the chili oil. The table was covered in plates of sliced ribeye, quail eggs, shrimp paste, and veggies waiting to be tossed in. Next to my dipping sauce, I even had a massive bowl of vanilla shaved ice. Weston replied: [A meal for four? Eating so little today? Are you upset?] I bit my chopsticks, my cheeks puffing out in anger. [What are you talking about! I am not a little piglet!] I was a Hognose snake. Not a little piglet. Weston: [Apple Pay Transfer: $52,000] [Got it, little piglet. Eat up, I have to get back to work.] Looking at the glowing golden transfer notification. I couldn’t help but smile, sending back a cute, obedient sticker. Sienna was curious. “Tessa, what are you grinning at?” I showed her my phone. “Weston just sent us funding! Sis, is this enough food? If not, we can order another round.” Sienna froze, her boba straw slipping from her lips. “Wait. You have Weston’s number?” I nodded. “Yeah. We added each other yesterday.” Sienna looked shocked. “Then why did he force me to add his Snapchat today? He complained that we’ve been dating for six months and I never gave him my socials. “Look. See for yourself.” Sienna handed me her phone. I stared at the profile picture and froze. “This is so weird, sis. Your Weston… his profile picture and username are completely different from my Weston. “Mine uses a black-and-white photo of him in a tailored suit. Yours uses an anime boy.” But what truly blew my mind… Her Weston texted so much. [Mommy, Mommy, what are you doing?] [I miss you. Want cuddles. Want kisses.] [Why aren’t you replying? Are you with another guy?] [What? You found another puppy?] [Is he more obedient than me? Does he love you more? I don’t believe it.] […] Whereas my Weston only ever sent: [?] [Answer the phone.] [Transfer.] [Hm.] [Busy.] [I miss you too.] Sienna and I stared at each other in absolute horror. There was no way one man could exhibit such drastically different personalities, even if we acted slightly differently around him. Half an hour later. After anxiously finishing the last slice of ribeye in the pot. I made a solemn announcement: “Sis. We need to formulate a plan. We’re going to fake our deaths and run.” 04 Sienna agreed with both hands and feet. We had so much money now. Building an ultra-luxurious mansion back in the deep woods of our ancestral mountain would be a piece of cake. But the problem was… How could we pull off a flawless fake death? If we just disappeared… Weston would definitely track us down. And he was incredibly petty. Once, I secretly took a sip of his protein shake. He insisted on “drinking” it back from my mouth. I told him I already swallowed it all! He still aggressively forced his way in. So I was genuinely terrified. What if he got so furious he set our ancestral forest on fire? Finally, we came up with the perfect plan. Tomorrow was the day Weston made his annual pilgrimage to the mountain temple to pray. He had already promised to take me with him. When the time came… Sienna would disguise herself as a psychic and block our path. She would point at me and prophesize that I was going to drop dead. Once we got home. I would start playing dead. Playing dead was literally what our species—the Hognose snake—did best! Weston would absolutely believe it. Once he buried me… I would dig my way out of the dirt and run! Hehe. Flawless! 05 We stayed up all night buying a psychic costume and rehearsing the script to fool Weston. Everything was ready; we just needed to execute! But I never in my wildest dreams imagined… The place Weston was going to pray… Was Whisperwood Peak. Our literal ancestral home. There was indeed a temple on that mountain. It enshrined the Serpent Goddess. My Great-great-great-great-grandmother. But… My Great-great-great-great-grandmother never actually granted human wishes. She explicitly told us she only built that temple because she wanted humans to think she was a badass. That was it. Because I felt incredibly guilty, I was unusually quiet the entire car ride up. Weston, who was busy reviewing corporate files on his iPad, glanced over at me. “You’re acting strange today.” I stiffened my back. “How am I strange?” Weston tapped his screen. “Normally, you can’t go sixty seconds without talking. Today, you haven’t spoken a single word in exactly 21 minutes and 31 seconds. “What’s on your mind?” Terrified he would see the guilt written all over my face. I quickly buried my face straight into his lap. “I was just thinking about you.” Weston sucked in a sharp breath. When he spoke, his tone was slightly strained. It sounded like a mix of gritted teeth and… something else. “Could you maybe not think about me while holding that specific position?” Belatedly realizing what my face was pressed against, I jerked my head up. I scrambled to the opposite corner of the backseat. Oh my god. So embarrassing. I exhaled onto the car window and drew circles on the fogged glass. I hate you, Weston. Drawing circles, drawing circles. I curse you to step in dog poop today. Ugh. 06 The weather on the mountain was terrible. A misty, freezing drizzle. Weston wanted me to wait for him at the base of the mountain. Panicking, I blurted out: “No! I have to go too!” Weston raised an eyebrow, looking at me with amusement. “Since when are you this athletic?” I marched ahead with wide strides, trying to cover up my anxiety. “I just want to hurry up and ask the Goddess to bless you, is that a crime?!” The man behind me fell silent for a moment. Then he let out a low chuckle. “Alright.” Weston caught up and took my hand. For the rest of the climb, every time we hit a steep step… He would stop and carefully help me up. I lost count of how many stone steps we climbed. I was exhausted, my hands on my hips, panting heavily. Great-great-great-grandmother, please don’t blame me for never visiting. You built this damn temple way, way, way too high up! Just as I lost the energy to even complain in my head. I finally… Saw Sienna. She was wearing a mystical-looking robe, tiny round sunglasses, and two fake mustache strips glued above her lip. Exactly as we rehearsed. She leaped out from the bushes, blocking our path. “Halt, young travelers!” Weston instantly pulled me behind him, his brow furrowing. Just as he was about to interrogate her. Sienna beat him to the punch. Pointing directly at me, she yelled: “I have consulted the cosmos! Tomorrow, she will… she will…” She froze mid-sentence. She forgot her lines. She turned around and started frantically digging through her wide, flowing sleeves. Clearly searching for her cheat sheet. Watching her fumble like an idiot, I was terrified Weston would see right through the act. My heart was in my throat, so I started violently fake-coughing. “Cough! Cough! Cough!” Thankfully, it worked. Weston’s attention snapped back to me, turning around to check on me. “Forget it!” Sienna, apparently pushed to her breaking point, decided to just wing it. She yelled at the top of her lungs, “Whatever! She’s gonna kick the bucket tomorrow!” Hearing Sienna say that. My vision went dark. I found out later… The piece of paper she had stuffed in her sleeve wasn’t her script. It was our receipt from the hot pot restaurant yesterday. She left the house in such a rush, she grabbed the wrong piece of paper. 07 Hearing her words, Weston’s entire body went rigid. He whipped his head around to yell at the “psychic,” but she was already gone. She had oiled her soles and bolted, leaving nothing but a tiny speck of a silhouette retreating into the mist. Weston entirely lost his mood to pray at the temple. Without a word, he scooped me up into his arms and carried me all the way back down the mountain. On the drive back, he murmured softly to me: “Be good. Don’t listen to that lunatic’s nonsense.” I nodded obediently, but looking up, I saw how violently tense his jawline was. Seeing him desperately trying to keep it together, a massive wave of guilt crashed over me. Was I… Was I wrong for tricking him like this? Spit, spit, spit! He literally asked if snakes were more afraid of arsenic or sulfur! Why was I feeling bad for him?! My sister’s and my lives were on the line here! … Fearing I was depressed, Weston took me to the VIP lounge of a luxury mall. He bought me a mountain of designer bags and jewelry before finally taking me home. Back at the penthouse. After my shower, I lay in bed, letting my imagination run wild. I was about to live the fabulous life of a rich, single snake! I was going to drive a Ferrari! Live in a mansion! Hire the hottest male models in the world to serve me grapes! Just thinking about it. I couldn’t stop grinning. I rolled back and forth across the king-sized bed, trying to muffle my giggles. Right at that moment, Weston walked in from his study. He leaned against the doorframe, watching me. “Has anyone ever told you…” he paused. “When you do that, you look exactly like an idiot.” My laughter abruptly stopped. I instantly buried myself under the duvet, leaving only my eyes peeking out to glare at him. “Hmph!” He sighed fondly, pulled back the covers, and ruffled my hair. “Not an idiot. Not an idiot.” “My baby isn’t an idiot at all.” Alright. It was about time. Time to put on the performance of a lifetime. I clutched my stomach, instantly shifting gears, wailing with a weak, trembling voice: “It hurts!” I hyperventilated, acting like I was on the brink of my last breath. Weston was completely terrified. He panicked, leaning over and scooping me into his arms, his voice cracking: “Don’t be scared, baby. We’re going to the hospital right now!” I seized the opportunity to grab his collar, shaking my head weakly. “No… it’s too late… Weston.” I forced my breathing to sound ragged and shallow. “I think… I’m actually going to die… Before I go… can you… promise me two things?” The fake death spell was about to kick in. Once it did, all my vital signs would temporarily vanish. Not even the most advanced medical equipment would detect a pulse. Weston’s eyes instantly turned red. His arms tightened around me like a vice. “Stop talking nonsense!” I ignored him and kept going. “Weston… for the sake of everything we’ve shared… just do these two things for me.” “First… bury me on Whisperwood Peak… the feng shui is good there.” “Second…” I paused, acting as if I was using the absolute last ounce of my strength. “Can you… on my grave… leave an entire Popeyes family meal combo?” Before I even finished the sentence. The arms holding me went completely stiff. Weston froze like a statue. 08 As for what happened next. My consciousness was already fading. I vaguely remember Weston sprinting through the penthouse and down to the private garage, carrying me. Sitting in the driver’s seat of the Maybach was a man wearing a black mask. His eyes and brow bone… looked 90% identical to Weston’s. His gaze landed on me for a split second. “Bro, why is your face so pale? Did she actually scare you?” What? Weston had a brother?! I was dying of curiosity. But I couldn’t hold on anymore. The fake death debuff was fully online. So sleepy. Time to die for a bit. Goodnight. … I don’t know how much time passed. My consciousness slowly returned. Freezing rain was hitting my snout. Achoo. So cold! I wiggled my body and realized I was already back in my little snake form. Weston’s burial skills were absolute garbage! He didn’t even cover my nose! And the dirt was so thin. One shake and it all fell off! I twisted twice. And successfully slithered out of my grave. Sniff sniff. Smells so good. So good. It’s the smell of fried chicken! Following the scent, I slithered over. I used my snout to push open the paper bag and jammed my whole head inside. Oh my god. It was still warm. Fresh out of the fryer. I took a bite. So crispy and tender. Delicious! Amazing! I put my entire heart and soul into eating. Completely forgetting a massive flaw in the plan. The original plan was… Sienna was supposed to be waiting here to dig me out. Because after using the fake death spell… For the next 72 hours, I wouldn’t be able to turn back into a human. I was incredibly vulnerable. But she was nowhere to be found. Just as I was lost in the ecstasy of fried chicken. Feeling like I was floating on cloud nine. Two cold chuckles echoed from behind me. “Heh.” My body locked up. My tail curled into a tight little spiral. Trembling, I slowly poked my head out of the paper bag. Only to see two identical, impossibly handsome men glaring down at me with icy stares. The one on the left, wearing a black hoodie and a silver chain, crossed his arms and tapped his shoulder. “Bro, which one is this? I honestly can’t tell them apart.” The one on the right, wearing a tailored suit, stood with one hand in his pocket, his face thunderous. “That one is mine. Just last night, she literally told me that when she died, I better leave a Popeyes family meal combo on her grave.” The one on the left laughed. “Haha, I told you. This greedy little snake is definitely not my baby.” The one on the right looked annoyed. “Who are you calling greedy?” “My bad, bro.” I was so terrified I coiled myself into a three-tiered donut. Save me. Why were there two Westons?!

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My childhood friend’s family carries a rare werewolf lineage. For them, the first person they “mark” during their transition into adulthood becomes their fated mate for life. When his first “fever” hit, his friends called me to help soothe the transition. But standing outside his door, I heard him growl with irritation: “I really don’t want to give her the satisfaction. Our kind is too loyal—once we mark someone, they’re our only partner forever. “I’m waiting for someone like Serena. Not a girl like Chloe who follows me around like a lost puppy. Tonight, even if she begs to help me, I’ll hold back.” He waited and waited, but I never walked through that door. What he didn’t know was that his older brother’s head of security was already blowing up my phone: “Miss Chloe, Mr. Sterling has considered you his only mate for years. Please, he’s dying. Can you just come and be with him?” He didn’t know that five years ago, when I “died” in that skiing accident in Aspen, it wasn’t him who saved me. It was his brother, Silas. To pull me back from the brink of death, Silas shared half of his own life-force with me through a forbidden blood-bond. Late that night, I wrapped my arms around Silas’s neck and whispered, “Mr. Sterling, stop holding back. Tell me… how many years have you been secretly in love with me?” 01 The Sterling family are shifters. After they turn twenty, every full moon brings a “fever”—a rut that demands a mate. The first person they mark during this time becomes their one and only for the rest of their lives. I always thought the person my childhood friend, Archer, would mark was me. But the night his lineage finally awakened, I stood outside the private lounge at the club and heard his voice dripping with disdain. “I really don’t want Chloe to have it that easy. “I want to go after the campus queen, but she’s not the type of girl you can just mess with. “Chloe’s different. She’s like a stray dog that shows up whenever I whistle. “Once she gets here, even if she begs to help me through the fever, I’m going to resist. I don’t want one night to turn into a life sentence with her dragging me down.” I stood in the hallway, my mind going completely blank. I never imagined that Archer—the boy I grew up with, the boy I gave everything to—actually saw me that way. Inside, his friends laughed. They were the type to kick someone when they were down. “So she’s just a toy to you?” “Maybe I should call her and tell her not to come. Wouldn’t want her taking advantage of the situation to climb into your bed and claim the ‘Luna’ title. Honestly, cheap goods aren’t worth the trouble.” Archer groaned in pain but stopped them. “Whatever. If you call her now and tell her not to come, she’ll get suspicious. “Even if she is just a toy, she’s the toy I grew up with. I don’t want her to feel too bad. “When she gets here, I’ll see if I can hold out. I don’t want to spell it out for her, but this is a good chance to make her realize where she stands.” In that moment, I wanted to burst in and scream at him. You don’t want me to feel bad? You just called me a dog in front of your friends and let them trash me. You think I’m still obsessed enough to let you treat me like trash? But I held it in. There was no point wasting words on someone who didn’t value me. I turned and walked away, fleeing the scene before the tears could fall. I pulled out my phone and called his older brother’s lead bodyguard. “You called me earlier about Mr. Sterling needing help tonight. Is the offer still open? “Send me the address. I’m coming now.” 02 Half an hour ago, that bodyguard had told me a truth Archer had spent five years hiding. “Miss Chloe, do you remember five years ago when Archer took you skiing and you fell into that ravine? “The eldest brother, Silas, led the rescue. We searched for three days and nights before finding you buried in the snow. You were a frozen statue. You weren’t breathing. “Silas told Archer that a shifter can share half their lifespan with their partner, but it can only be done through a blood-rite on a full moon. “A blood-rite is the deepest form of marking. “Once it’s done, he is bound to you forever. “Archer refused. He didn’t want to lose half his life, even though he cried over your body. “In the end, it was Silas who saved you. “It was a miracle the full moon fell on that night. Silas performed the rite, gave you his life, and marked you as his fated mate. He saved you, but it meant he could never love anyone else. “Archer begged him never to tell you. “For five years, Silas has endured the full moon fevers alone. He never bothered you. He strictly forbade us from speaking of the sacrifice. “But tonight… he can’t make it. He was severely injured in a rescue operation, and with the full moon hitting, his body is failing. “Please. Can you help him?” My mind was spinning. I had actually died five years ago? Archer, who claimed to love me, wouldn’t sacrifice a single day for me. But Silas—the “Ice King,” the man I was always terrified of—had literally brought me back from the dead. I had initially told the guard: “I’m sorry, Archer needs me tonight.” I was prepared to be ungrateful just to go to Archer. And yet, Archer thought of me as a dog. I was pathetic. I deserved to be looked down on. But I wasn’t going to be pathetic anymore. I wiped my eyes, gripped my phone, and told the guard: “Is it too late to repay the debt? “If Silas needs me tonight… I’m his. Completely.” The guard sounded like he was crying. “It’s not too late. Not at all. “I’m sending the location now. “If he wasn’t at death’s door, I’d never dare defy his orders. His discipline is legendary, but I can’t let him die.” I understood. Silas probably just wanted to save a life back then. He didn’t want me clinging to him. And I just wanted to pay him back. It wasn’t a rebound. It was an awakening. 03 I didn’t expect to see Serena, the campus belle, outside the VIP hospital wing when I arrived. She was frantic, trying to push past the guards. “Let me in! “Isn’t it the full moon? How do you know Silas doesn’t need me? “Silas! Silas, please! Let me help you!” I almost laughed. Archer said Serena wasn’t “easy,” yet here she was, offering herself to his brother. The guard who had been blocking her saw me and immediately opened the door, his eyes misty. “Miss Chloe. You’re finally here. “Please, go in. He really needs you tonight.” Jealousy twisted Serena’s face into something hideous. “Why does she get to go in? “Silas got hurt saving her! “She’s a jinx! How can you let her near him?” I froze. He got hurt saving me? Again? Inside the room, it was chaos. I saw Silas. He was shirtless, sprawled across the bed, his skin a deep, feverish red. His short hair was soaked with sweat. His fingers were dug into the sheets, his muscles corded with the effort of restraint. His back was wrapped in heavy white bandages, but they were already soaked through with brilliant crimson blood. The doctor was pacing, yelling: “My God, Silas! Stop fighting it! Find a woman to help you. The bandages are soaked again. How much blood do you think you have? “It’s the full moon. The shifter blood is too aggressive; your clotting factor is non-existent. The best medicine in the world won’t work if your heart is racing like this. “You have to ease the fever, or you’re going to bleed out tonight! “Where is that girl? When is she getting here?” The bodyguards by the bed saw me. They bowed ninety degrees in a gesture of profound respect. “Doctor, she’s here.” Silas, who had been enduring a literal hell on that bed, suddenly opened his eyes. A pair of glowing, dark red eyes—terrifying and beautiful—locked onto mine. He fought back the primal hunger, his voice cold and furious: “Who brought her here? Get her out!” The lead guard stayed bowed. “Sir, only Miss Chloe can help you tonight. I’ll take whatever punishment you give. “But you’re dying because of her. You’ve saved her twice and kept it a secret. You might not feel wronged, but we can’t watch this anymore.” I stared at the man on the bed. Archer and I were childhood friends, but I had always avoided Silas. He was the “Living Reaper.” Even the most arrogant rich kids in the city turned into obedient mice in his presence. He had an aura of absolute power. I used to take the long way around just to avoid crossing his path. Now, this man—the one who made the world tremble—was clutching the bedsheets, his toes curling in agony. Every inch of him was radiating waves of heat. His ragged breathing filled the room. The contrast was staggering. He was a fallen god, vulnerable and breathtaking. “Wait,” I whispered. “You said he was hurt because of me again?” The guard started to speak, but Silas barked: “Shut up! Not another word!” He tried to soften his voice for me, though it remained distant. “Chloe… go home. I don’t need you here.” The guard, apparently ready to die for the truth, said: “Sir, stop the act. A hard mouth won’t win you a wife. “You’re acting tough, but your heart is a mess. Whenever she’s in danger, you throw your life away. You ran into a literal fire for her. Do you think we’on’t see that?” 04 The other guards joined in, seemingly tired of the secrets. “Exactly. Last month, during the full moon, who was staring at the photo of Chloe on their lock screen until they were delirious? You were calling her name in your sleep. She’s all you think about. “And the month before that? You parked outside her dorm and sat there all night. You almost went in a dozen times before stopping yourself. A saint would have cracked by now. “If we don’t speak up, Chloe will never know. Do you really plan on suffering alone forever?” “I can handle it,” Silas said, his eyes dropping. The doctor snapped: “Handle my foot! You won’t see tomorrow’s sun at this rate. “Young lady, don’t just stand there. Figure out a way to calm him down!” The guards bowed again. But… “What do I do? I don’t know how.” The doctor, cutting away the bloody bandages, yelled: “Kiss him!” My face flushed deep red. Standing at the head of the bed, I didn’t know how to kiss this man who was actively pushing me away in front of everyone. The guard yelled: “Miss Chloe, do you know how he got those burns? “Two days ago, the university auditorium caught fire. You were trapped inside, unconscious from the smoke. You were seconds from suffocating. “Silas went in. Because of the bond, he can feel when you’re in pain. “He ignored everyone and charged into the fire. While he was carrying you out, a beam collapsed. It hit him right across the back. He was on fire. “But he didn’t drop you. He pushed through the pain and got you out. And then Archer showed up. “Archer saw Silas carry you out, snatched you from his arms, and acted like the hero. If Archer cared so much, why didn’t he go in himself?” My heart stopped. Silas did that? I remembered waking up in the hospital with Archer by my side. I thought Archer had saved me. I had been given too much information today to stay shy. I didn’t care anymore. I had to save him. I leaned over Silas. I pressed my lips to his in a firm kiss. “Don’t,” Silas growled. It was a warning, a rejection, but his hands gripped the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white. His eyes were bloodshot. He looked like he was being tortured. “Chloe, do you even know what you’re doing? You usually run when you see me. Don’t do this out of some sense of debt. And don’t listen to them. It won’t work. I feel nothing.” The doctor suddenly shouted: “It’s working! The bleeding is slowing down! “Miss Chloe, don’t stop! Keep going! “His body is a lot more honest than his mouth. Kiss him like you mean it!” The doctor’s words were like a slap to Silas’s “tough guy” act. Silas looked mortified. He actually buried his face in the pillow. He was… blushing? The tips of his ears were bright red. 05 The guards were nearly crying with relief. “I knew Chloe was the only cure.” “Miss Chloe, ignore anything that comes out of his mouth. He’s a professional at faking it. He’s dying for you to touch him! “Look at his ears! He’s just shy and doesn’t want to pressure you because he thinks you only love Archer.” Silas looked up, glaring at the guards. “Quiet!” But for the sake of his life, they ignored his fury. I took the chance to grab Silas’s handsome face and turn it toward me. I cradled the back of his head and sealed his lips with mine. I didn’t care how “tough” he was. I couldn’t be indifferent to a man who had died for me twice. I couldn’t let him suffer. The moment our lips met, I felt Silas shudder with a wave of raw emotion. But he still held onto the last shred of his logic. “Chloe… are you deaf? “I don’t want you to ‘repay’ me like this. “Who do you think I am? Do I look like I need your charity?” My eyes welled up. “Silas… I’m doing this because I want to. No one is forcing me.” I grabbed his hand and pressed it against my heart. His pupils contracted. He looked like he had touched something he wasn’t allowed to touch. A man of honor, he tried to pull his hand away. I held on tight. “Silas, feel my heart. “There is no hesitation here. Don’t feel guilty.” His throat moved as he swallowed hard, his restraint crumbling. “Don’t lie to me. I know Archer is the only one in your heart. “Before, when the guard called you… I heard. “You said… Archer needed you more tonight.” I wanted to explain, but Silas’s phone on the nightstand started ringing. It was Archer. Silas looked at the screen and swiped to answer. “Archer? What is it?” Archer’s pained, strained voice came through the speaker: “Silas… the fever hit me. It’s my first one. It hurts so much. “And Chloe… that idiot girl isn’t here yet. “I thought I could handle it, but I overestimated myself.” Silas looked at me. “Chloe is…” I immediately kissed Silas again, cutting off his words. Silas lost control at my repeated boldness. His pupils dilated. His large, powerful hand instinctively cupped the back of my head, pulling me closer. He wanted more. But his logic kicked in one last time. He pushed me back slightly, but before he could tell Archer I was there, Archer started complaining again. “I know she’s probably just stuck in traffic. “She’s probably dying to get here and ‘save’ me. “She’s probably over the moon right now. “But honestly, girls who are too easy are boring. “I really don’t want her to take advantage of me and mark her as my mate. Why does our kind have to be so damn loyal?” Silas’s blood-red eyes flashed with a mix of shock and cold anger. “You don’t want to be loyal? “Then why did you lead her on since you were kids?” Archer, talking to his brother, didn’t hold back. “I was young. I hadn’t seen enough of the world. “I didn’t know how much better the view was outside.” “Archer!” Silas’s voice was dangerously heavy. “If you don’t cherish her, don’t blame me for taking her!” 06 Silas’s words dropped like lead: “Don’t regret it later!” Archer was stunned for a second, then laughed. “I won’t regret it. “I’d be happy if she stopped clinging to me. “But don’t get your hopes up, Silas. “I might be able to let her go, but she can’t. “Chloe only has eyes for me. There’s no room for anyone else. “She’ll probably try to marry me even if I treat her like garbage. “What are you going to do, Silas? Force her to love you? “Forced love is meaningless. Even if you take her body, you’ll never have her heart. Why bother?” I was so tired of Archer’s unearned confidence. Afraid Silas would push me away again, I wrapped both arms around his neck and bit his earlobe gently. Silas was already drowning in the fever; he couldn’t handle that kind of stimulation. He cut Archer off coldly: “We’ll see about that.” Archer was still smug. “Silas, I’m telling you, Chloe is probably racing here at a hundred miles an hour. She’s probably flying. “Poor me, I’m sitting here in pain having to find the willpower to reject her when she tries to jump me. You wouldn’t understand.” Silas let out a cold, sharp laugh. “You think too much of yourself.” He listened to the phone while looking at me—the girl currently “jumping” him. His gaze had completely changed. Restraint, logic, hesitation—they were all tossed out the window. His large hand gripped the back of my head. He pulled me onto the hospital bed, rolling me into his arms. The bodyguards and the doctor were incredibly sharp. They all filed out instantly. When it was just Silas and me, the silence was thick with tension. I felt like I was pressed against a burning furnace. My heart was doing backflips. Silas’s voice was raw and ragged: “Last chance. Get out now. “Otherwise… “Once I decide to take something, I never let go. Even in death.” My heart pounded. I was actually a little scared. But I thought of the horrific burns on his back. I shook my head. The air in my lungs was suddenly stolen. Silas took charge, pinning me down and kissing me with a depth that left me breathless. He treated me like the most precious thing in the world. A soft sound escaped my throat, and Archer heard it through the phone. “Silas? What was that? Is there a woman there? “Who is it?” 07 Silas said, “You don’t need to know tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll introduce you to your future sister-in-law.” Archer laughed. “Alright. I won’t ruin your fun. “I’ll see what she looks like tomorrow.” Before the call ended, I heard Archer ask his friends irritably: “Where is Chloe? Call her again.” His friend teased him: “I thought you didn’t want her here? “What, you can’t handle the heat now?” Archer snapped back, “No way. I’m just worried she got into an accident. “Call her. Find out where she is.” The friend said, “She’s not picking up. Did something actually happen?” Archer growled, “Keep calling. Don’t stop until she answers.” Archer didn’t know that the constant ringing of my phone was acting like a soundtrack to our passion. The more the phone rang, the tighter Silas held me, as if he was afraid I would vanish. When I was nearly dizzy from lack of oxygen, Silas whispered in a low, rough voice: “Do you want to answer? “Maybe Archer changed his mind.” He was holding me, his body burning hot. I shook my head, my face flushed. “Silas… don’t ruin the mood.” I reached for his phone, hit the end call button, and tossed it aside. I pulled his head back down. “Silas, stop holding back. “Tonight… whatever you want. I’m yours.” Silas’s breath hitched like a flame catching. “Chloe… don’t tease me like this.” His kisses moved to my collarbone, his breathing completely shattered. I blinked. “You don’t like it?” “I love it. It just doesn’t feel real. “I know you’re only doing this to pay me back. “I’m greedy, Chloe. I want so much more than that.” The loneliness in his voice was heart-wrenching. I didn’t know how to answer that yet. “Silas… why did you give up half your life for me five years ago? “Archer wouldn’t do it. Why would you? “You put yourself in this cage, suffering every full moon because of me.” Silas didn’t answer with words. He just kissed me more intensely. Finally, I heard him murmur: “It’s not just the full moon. “I want you… every day. “But you always ran away when you saw me.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “How much did I scare you? “But after tonight, even if you run, even if you’re scared… I’m not letting go. “Chloe, you provoked me. You’re never getting away.” He held me so tight I felt like I was being fused into his body. A wild thought crossed my mind. Has Silas been secretly in love with me this whole time? Strangely, I wasn’t scared anymore. I felt a tiny spark of joy. The man who terrified the world… was a soft mess for me? I felt a little proud of myself. I wrapped my arms around his waist, careful of the wounds on his back. I tilted my head back to give him better access. “Silas… I’m not going to run. “If you don’t believe my words, watch my actions. “I’m going to kick Archer out of my heart. There’s only going to be room for you.”

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