My fiancé and my own brother hated me for ten years. They were convinced I’d bullied their precious little innocent. And at my engagement party, they exposed my supposed crimes to the world. “She’s a disgrace, a bully who tormented her classmates!” In the live-streamed video, the innocent girl smiled through tears: “I’ve forgiven her. Looking back, I’ve long since moved past it.” She became an overnight sensation. I, on the other hand, was vilified, attacked with acid by extreme fans, and in despair, I dragged her down with me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my senior year of high school. The innocent girl was pouring water over her head, smiling as she asked, “Have you thought about how you’re going to apologize to me?” I snapped. Grabbing her by the hair, I dragged her into the restroom and shoved her head into the toilet. “Let me show you what real bullying looks like.” “Such a filthy mouth. Remember to wash it clean before you go tattling.” 1 My last memory of my previous life. The agonizing, near-fatal pain of concentrated acid splashing into my eyes. Enduring immense agony, I found Daisy, shielded behind my brother, through my blurring vision. Then I grabbed a cake knife, charged, and plunged it into her chest. “Let’s go to hell together!” … My eyes snapped open again. The unusually clear sight before me left me stunned for a couple of seconds. Until I saw Daisy, much younger, not far away. She was wearing a faded school uniform, twisting open a faucet, and pouring water over her own head. As the water streamed down, she smiled and asked, “Who do you think they’ll believe, me or you?” It hit me then. This was the day. The beginning of my being branded a bully in my past life. Seeing me standing there, frozen, Daisy’s smile widened. “Have you thought about how you’re going to apologize to me, Miss Fancy Pants? —Ah!” Old grudges and fresh fury surged. I lunged, seized her by the hair, and dragged her into the restroom. Amidst her sudden, shrill shriek, I shoved her entire face into the toilet. “You think a little cold water is enough to pin this on me? Come on, I’ll personally teach you what real bullying means.” Daisy thrashed wildly, her arms flailing like windmills, but she couldn’t escape my grip. Her face buried in the murky water, she could only gurgle out muffled sounds. “Eleanor, let me go… gurgle… retch—” I threw my head back and laughed. “Such a filthy mouth! Remember to wash it clean before you go tattling later!” Whether this was a do-over or a post-mortem hallucation. It didn’t matter. I was completely, utterly insane. 2 In my past life, I died on the most triumphant day of my life. That day, I’d won my third Best Actress award, dressed in a haute couture gown, standing on a grand, live-streamed engagement stage with my childhood sweetheart, Evan. Then he announced to everyone, “I will never marry a despicable bully who tormented classmates in high school.” As I stared in disbelief. Daisy emerged from the audience. Her eyes glistening with tears, she looked up and smiled. “Eleanor, do you remember me? Daisy, the girl you bullied for ten years.” “You probably never imagined I’d stand here, equal to you, one day.” “But it’s alright, I don’t blame you anymore.” “Looking back, I’ve long since moved past it.” The live broadcast instantly made her a sensation. Before I could even react, a swarm of reporters, arranged by my brother and Evan, rushed in and surrounded me. “Miss Moreau, is it true you still maintain your habit of bullying newcomers on set?” “Someone photographed you visiting a gynecologist recently. Was it due to a dirty disease from your promiscuous private life?” An extremist fan burst through the crowd and hurled acid onto my face. “Bitch, just die!” The liquid splashed, bringing an overwhelming, searing pain to my face. My vision never cleared again. From heaven to hell, in an instant. 3 Snapping back to reality, I released my grip. Daisy lay on the ground, gasping for breath. Her innocent, pure face was streaked with grime. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Cry, throw a fit, then go tell the whole world I bullied you with that face—go on!” My voice rose sharply at the end. Remembering the searing pain of my face being dissolved by acid in my past life, I stomped on her face twice more with all my might. Only then did I turn and leave. Downstairs, my classmate, Sarah, was waiting for me. “Gym class started ages ago, what were you doing upstairs?” I said nonchalantly, “Oh, just bullied the new kid a bit.” She turned, shocked. “What?!” I replied, “As Mark Twain said, when the whole world thinks you’re a bully, you might as well be one.” “Mark Twain… said that…?” “It’s not important.” As we walked towards the sports field, we ran straight into Evan. He wasn’t in my class. But everyone in school knew he was Eleanor Moreau’ childhood boyfriend. Evan’s gaze skimmed my face, then subtly, almost imperceptibly, landed behind me. “Ellie, why are you so late? By the way, I heard there’s a new transfer student in your class?” In my past life, every time Daisy slandered me. He would always tell me to apologize to her, to just move past it. He seemed to be on my side. But in reality, a few words from him solidified my guilt as a bully. At that thought, I unexpectedly raised my hand and slapped him. “?!” Sarah, beside me, was stunned again. Evan’s expression remained unchanged, though his eyes momentarily hardened. Then he acted as if nothing had happened. He leaned down intimately, rubbing his cheek against mine. “What’s wrong, Ellie? Are you in a bad mood?” 4 In my past life, I didn’t know until much later. When Evan was a child, his mother abandoned him at an amusement park, and he spent some time in an orphanage. There, he met a cheerful, bright little girl. She slept in the same bed as him and gave him a piece of candy. She was the only light in his life. That light was Daisy. And on her very first day transferring to our school, Evan recognized her. He had always believed Daisy’s claims that I bullied her, hating me to the core. Yet, constrained by his status as an illegitimate child, he had to endure and curry favor with me. Because he needed to secure his position in the family through marriage to me. At this thought, I said, “Let’s break up.” His pupils suddenly constricted. “…Why? Give me a reason, Ellie.” I pulled out a tissue, wiping my cheek where he’d touched it, stroke by stroke. “I don’t want to date a mistress’s son. It feels dirty. Is that reason enough?” 5 After I left, Sarah cautiously asked if I was possessed. Her question didn’t surprise me in the least. Because in high school, I had loved Evan so openly and intensely. Every day after school, I’d wait to walk home with him, baking cookies until my hands were scratched and cut, then smiling sweetly as I brought them to him. My favoritism was so obvious, the whole world knew. But now, it was different. The Eleanor Moreau who had just started her senior year was dead. The person standing here now was Eleanor Moreau, reborn from the ashes! 6 Daisy didn’t reappear all day. I knew her face was her most prized asset. She wouldn’t make a move unless she could fully leverage it. I waited patiently. Soon, it was Saturday, my eighteenth birthday. My parents had said they’d host a grand dinner to celebrate my coming of age. But then something urgent came up at their company, and they had to arrive late. Under the glittering crystal chandeliers. I, dressed in a bespoke cocktail dress, descended the spiral staircase into the living room. From afar, I saw my brother, Victor Moreau. He was impeccably dressed in a suit, his face impassive, calling out to me. “Eleanor, come here.” I walked over. Pretending not to see Evan’s shadowed gaze behind him, nor Daisy, who looked on the verge of tears. I smiled sweetly. “What is it, brother? Did you prepare a gift for me?” Victor looked at me with cold eyes for a moment, then spoke. “Bullying classmates, insulting friends, Eleanor. Is this what the Moreau family taught you?” His voice hadn’t softened in the slightest. Suddenly, all the guests’ eyes in the room turned our way. “What are you talking about, brother? I don’t understand.” I looked at Daisy, tilting my head. “Who did I insult, and when did I bully a classmate? I don’t even know her.” “It’s too late to deny it now. You made a mistake, and you’ll pay the price.” “Since Mom and Dad aren’t here today, I’ll discipline you on their behalf.” With that, Victor took a ruler from a nearby display cabinet. Looking at me, he stated each word sternly. “Kneel.” 7 In the vast ballroom, countless eyes watched, eager for a show. “What? Bullying a classmate? The Moreau daughter does things like that?” “Oh, raised in luxury, it’s normal for her to resent others being better.” “Good thing her brother is fair and not protective.” Under Daisy’s smug and defiant gaze, I straightened my back. Smiling, I unleashed a torrent of sarcasm. “What rubbish are you spewing, brother? Anyone who knows you would think you’re Victor Moreau; anyone who doesn’t would think some ghost from the old days possessed you.” “I only kneel for my ancestors.” I cocked my head, scrutinizing him from head to toe, then smirked nastily. “How about this: you go jump off a building right now, and I’ll immediately kneel and bow three times to send you off.” Victor’s face instantly darkened. Behind him, Daisy feigned concern. “Eleanor, I know you don’t like me, but it’s one thing to pick on me, how can you speak to your own brother like that?” Her eyes widened, tears welling up, deliberately putting on a childish, innocent expression. Evan, seeing this, showed a flicker of obscure darkness in his eyes. Then he spoke softly. “Ellie, if you’ve made a mistake, just admit it and apologize. There’s no need to—” I also widened my eyes, feigning distress. “Excuse me, I don’t understand dog barks. Could you please repeat that in human language?” “Enough!” Victor snapped. “Eleanor Moreau, as a young woman, do you have no sense of decency? Who taught you to speak like that, full of vulgarity and without manners?” He was still the same, refusing to believe anything I said. Instead, he would, with strong prejudice, nail me to the pillar of shame again and again. I tugged at the corner of my mouth, mimicking his cold sneer. “Mom and Dad are busy, no time to manage me. Who do you think taught me?” “Of course, it was you, my dearest brother.” 8 In my past life, I was always a mixture of fear and affection for Victor. He was several years older than me, and in my heart, he was always an authoritative brother. When we were little, Mom and Dad were busy with the company, so he was the one who disciplined me. If I made even a small mistake, I’d get my palm smacked with a ruler, or be forbidden to eat. When I brought home a curly-haired stray dog I’d found, he wouldn’t let the housekeeper open the door for me. “It’s filthy. We don’t welcome things like that in this house.” So I sat on the steps outside our house, clutching the puppy, all night long. I was still young then. I always thought that was just his personality, that he couldn’t learn the gentle affection other brothers showed their sisters. It wasn’t until Daisy appeared. That I realized. My brother did know how to be gentle. It just wasn’t for me. I’d seen him in his car, handing Daisy hot milk, ruffling her hair and saying, “Remember to eat three meals a day. If you need more money, I’m here.” I’d also seen Daisy pick up a scrawny stray cat in the rain, while he held an umbrella over her, softly asking, “Do you want to keep it?” When Daisy was drunk and mumbled nonsense, tugging at his shirt, he listened patiently, his eyes full of tenderness. In my past life, I was trapped in a web of deceitful love. Confused why my brother didn’t love me, why my fiancé wasn’t on my side. Only after living through it again did I finally understand. I was a completely independent individual. I didn’t need love to survive. 9 The birthday dinner ultimately didn’t end well. Because as I confronted Victor without backing down, Mom and Dad finally returned. They politely thanked and sent off the numerous guests. Daisy tried to pull her usual victim act with Mom, but Mom cut her off with a smile. “Excuse me, young lady, we handle our family matters ourselves. Please leave.” Daisy choked, giving Victor a tearful glance before turning to leave. Once only Victor and I remained, Dad finally spoke, his voice authoritative. “Alright, now tell me exactly what happened.” Before Victor could speak, I quickly interjected. “A new transfer student arrived at school recently. On her very first day, she went crazy, poured water over her own head, and insisted I was the one who did it, saying I bullied her.” “Later, I found out this person was Daisy, the underprivileged student you’ve been sponsoring, brother.” Victor, who was sitting on the sofa, suddenly looked up at me, his eyes full of shock. Surprised, aren’t you, brother? That your secret affair was discovered by me so early. I pressed my reddened eyes, my voice choked with sobs. “Actually, I don’t blame her. It’s just a birthday, I can just skip it.” “I’m just sad, why don’t you believe me, brother…” It wasn’t as if Daisy was the only one who could play the innocent victim in this world. Amidst my tearful voice, Dad made a final decision. “Alright, no matter who bullied whom, don’t make a fuss anymore.” “If it escalates and gets out, it won’t be good for any of you.” “This matter, ends here.” 10 Back at school, I began overtly bullying Daisy. Pouring ink into her drawer, loudly mocking her when she recited English with an accent. Tearing her physics test into pieces and sprinkling them over her head. “Go on, go tattle again.” I smiled. “Isn’t that what you’re best at?” A piece of shredded paper floated gently from her hair. She looked at me, a flicker of deep-seated malice in her eyes. In the end, she still trembled and cried, apologizing to me. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Eleanor. If I’ve done anything to upset you, I apologize now. I’ll change, alright?” “Your existence upsets me.” I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “How will you change? Are you going to die right now?” She was speechless, unable to utter a single word. Finally, she could only continue to cry. I realized for the first time how exhilarating it was to be the villain. Of course, she told the teachers. The teacher called me to the office. I tearfully recounted what happened at the birthday dinner, finally pulling out a doctor’s note. “Because of her rumors that day, my brother humiliated me in front of so many people. I cry every time I think about it, even waking up from nightmares.” “I’m still seeing a psychologist and taking medication. The doctor says I have severe depression.” In the end, the teacher had to console me. Everyone could see I disliked Daisy. Sarah was puzzled. “Why are you targeting her so much? Has she done anything bad?” I looked up and smiled at her. “Can’t I just be a bad woman, using my family’s wealth to look down on a new student from a poor background?” “Oh, come on.” She rolled her eyes at me. “If you were like that, why wouldn’t you bully me? My family is much poorer than hers.” “On the very first day we became friends, you bought all my school supplies for three years of high school. Asking me to believe you bully classmates is like asking me to believe I’m Queen Elizabeth.” “I understand that much.” Yes. That much, everyone understood. But my brother and the person I loved, they just didn’t. I curved my lips, but there was no smile in my eyes.

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I knew my husband, Ryan Prescott, faked his death and took on his twin brother’s identity, but I never exposed him. Instead, I went to the military commander, informed him of my husband’s supposed demise, and requested his military discharge. In my previous life, my brother-in-law died unexpectedly, and my husband resolutely abandoned his position as a Battalion Commander to impersonate his twin, all to prevent his sister-in-law from becoming a widow. I recognized him as Ryan, and confronted him about why he was impersonating his younger brother. Ryan, however, denied it adamantly, coldly pushing me away. “Eleanor, I know you’re devastated that my brother is gone, but you can’t mistake me for him just because he’s dead!” He shielded his delicate sister-in-law, pushed me into an icy river, and warned me against delusional thoughts. My five-year-old daughter cried, asking why her daddy didn’t want her, and was locked in a cowshed to reflect, starving for three days and nights. My mother-in-law cursed me as a jinx who brought death to her husband, throwing my daughter and me out of the house penniless. Ryan even spread rumors that I had gone mad, coveting my brother-in-law immediately after my husband’s death. I was scorned and despised by everyone, clinging to my daughter, numbly dying in the bitter cold of winter. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my husband began impersonating his brother. …

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For eight years after being found by the Fox family, my brother finally decided to host a formal reunion party for me, who had been living separately. But three days before the party, I learned he had changed the invitations to his adopted sister’s birthday celebration. His friend teased, “Just because Clara was jealous, you changed Serenity’s long-awaited reunion party, after eight years, into Clara’s birthday?” “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Serenity is your biological sister, living away for eight years without even stepping foot into the Fox family mansion. Aren’t you afraid she’ll find out and disown you as her brother?” My brother smiled with immense confidence, “How could she? Serenity nearly died from a knife wound from kidnappers, all for me. She’d even throw her life away for me. Would she ever abandon me, her only family?” “I left the invitation in the most obvious place. She cares so much about this reunion. She’ll definitely see it, and then she’ll obediently pick out a birthday gift for Clara and attend.” I lowered my gaze, shedding no tears, making no fuss, and finally left quietly. On the day of the party, my brother, after waiting long for my appearance, frantically called. “Serenity, your room at the mansion has been decorated just how you like it. Why aren’t you home yet?” I looked at my adopted brother outside the station, waving energetically at me. “I’m already home.” 1 The reunion party was promised by my brother six months ago. At that time, he was kidnapped by a business rival, who, cornered, demanded his life, not money. In a moment of urgency, I pushed him aside, taking a fatal knife thrust for him. It missed my heart by barely an inch. Blood streamed, dripping all the way. Between life and death, my brother’s heart-wrenching sobs echoed in my ears. “Serenity, don’t leave me, brother only has you.” “As soon as you’re out of surgery, I’ll bring you back to the mansion, as the Fox family’s only cherished daughter, with all due honor.” I think I smiled. After eight years, my brother finally acknowledged me. But now, his indifferent, casual voice, shattered that fresh promise, simply because of Clara’s plea, “I want to be your only sister, brother.” I stood by the door, numb, my fingers slightly cold. My brother’s friend, Ethan, frowned, trying to persuade him, “Everyone in the city knows the only Fox daughter is Clara. You just changed the invitation, and you’re not even telling Serenity. When she shows up, only to find the main character replaced, how do you expect her to handle it?” “Besides, Serenity is your biological sister, whom you finally found. She’s waited so many years for this reunion, and you personally promised her. Aren’t you afraid of hurting her feelings?” A flicker of struggle crossed Julian’s face, then he sighed. “Serenity is sensible and strong. I just casually found a fortune teller as an excuse, saying she ‘clashes with relatives’ and couldn’t return to the mansion to acknowledge her family. She obediently lived away for eight years. Clara is different; she was adopted by the Fox family as a child and never experienced hardship. If Serenity truly moved into the mansion, Clara would feel her affection and attention were divided, surely feeling insecure. She wouldn’t be able to handle it.” Ethan wanted to say that affection and attention originally belonged to me. Before he could speak, Julian impatiently waved his hand. “At worst, I’ll just keep saying that. She accepted eight years of ‘clashing with relatives,’ so another year won’t hurt.” “Anyway, she trusts me so much. She listens to whatever I say. She’ll definitely agree obediently. It’s just living outside. As long as I know she’s my sister, does a reunion party really matter that much?” Someone nearby chimed in, laughing, “Exactly. Clara is gentle, generous, and well-mannered. She’s truly like a real young lady from a prestigious family. Who would want a country bumpkin sister like Serenity? She’s so unrefined, it’s embarrassing to even mention her.” “If I were Julian, I wouldn’t want everyone in the city to know I had such an unsophisticated biological sister. Wouldn’t that just give people reason to criticize me?” Julian’s face darkened with displeasure. “Everyone shut up! Who are you to gossip about Serenity? Remember this: even if she never steps foot into the Fox family mansion in this life, she is still my Fox family’s eldest daughter, my biological sister, Julian Fox. If anyone dares to slander her one more word, don’t blame me for turning against you.” Everyone fell silent, sulking. Just then, Julian’s phone rang in his pocket. Seeing the caller ID flash ‘My Little Princess,’ his gloomy expression instantly softened. He answered the call. Clara’s voice was cheerful and surprised. “Brother, are you really giving me Master Daniel’s last crown? Wasn’t that custom-made for Serenity?” “Yes, it’s yours. It’ll arrive tomorrow. My little princess isn’t worried about her brother’s affection being stolen now, is she?” Clara feigned concern. “Will Serenity be upset if she finds out?” “Silly girl, you are my only precious sister. Your happiness comes first; nothing else matters.” Clara happily cooed, “Thank you, brother! I knew you loved me best! At my birthday party, I want you to personally put the crown on my head.” “Okay, whatever you want.” The call ended, and the crowd immediately began to tease, “Julian Fox, the ultimate doting brother, no one dares to claim second place.” “That’s Master Daniel’s last crown! I heard it’s worth a hundred million. Who’s the real sister here? That’s an insane amount of money to spend!” Julian’s lips curved into a doting smile. “Clara has always been pampered by me since she was little. I can’t bear for her to suffer any hardship, so of course, the best must go to her. Serenity is different; she’s used to simplicity. She’s not suited for such expensive jewelry. I’ve already had a silver set prepared for her; five hundred dollars is already very valuable to her.” 2 Wind poured in through the window, carrying a briny, acrid smell that stung my eyes. So my brother never intended to bring me home. Eight years of “clashing with relatives” was merely an excuse to keep me out. All to prevent me from stealing the affection of his only beloved sister. How foolish I was, never doubting him, always fearing my misfortune would bring disaster upon him. He could have just told me he didn’t want me as a sister. I would have left. But why use eight years of lies, trapping me in his superficial concern? Making me believe, with all my heart, that he loved me. Footsteps approached from inside. I swallowed hard, suppressing the burning moisture in my eyes. Before I could leave, my brother had already opened the door. The moment he saw me, a flicker of panic crossed his eyes. “Serenity, how long have you been here?” My fingers clenched into my palm, the force pushing out whitened knuckles. I looked at him calmly, reminding him, “Just arrived. It’s the fifteenth.” The fifteenth! It was the only day each month my brother promised to have dinner with me. For eight years, living apart, my brother always told me, even if I couldn’t return to the Fox family for now, I would always be the Fox family’s eldest daughter, his only precious sister. On the fifteenth of every month, when the moon was full, people reunited. For eight years, he had never missed that day. My brother smiled suddenly, gently ruffling my head. “Hmm, let’s go. Brother will take you to dinner.” Just as I took a bite of food, the doorbell rang. Clara, uninvited, appeared. “Brother, I specifically came to have dinner with Serenity.” Just as I was about to refuse, she squeezed through the door. “Wow, so much delicious food, all seafood! Brother is so good to Serenity. I never get this treatment, eating food brother made himself.” She picked up her chopsticks, about to serve herself, but I raised my hand to block her. “I didn’t invite you. Please leave.” She froze, her lips trembling slightly, her face full of grievance. “Brother, I didn’t mean any harm. I just wanted to have dinner with you both.” I looked at her, my voice very faint. “You eat with brother twenty-nine days a month. I only have this one day.” Julian frowned, his step forward abruptly halting. Clara’s tears suddenly fell. “I… I understand.” “You’re biological siblings. I, an outsider, am the extra one. I’ll go now.” She finished, choking back sobs, then turned and ran out. She accidentally knocked over a potted plant by the door and fell. My brother’s hand, resting on the shoe cabinet, tightened sharply. He angrily rushed forward to help her up. “Clara, there’s a limit to being dramatic. Today was supposed to be my dinner with Serenity. Who asked you to come?” “Don’t think that just because Serenity can’t come home yet, you’ve really become the Fox family’s eldest daughter.” “If you hurt yourself, go to the hospital on your own. I’m not taking you.” Clara bit her lip, tears brimming in her eyes for a long time, finally bursting into sobs and running away. My brother stared fixedly at her retreating figure, then harshly shut the door and sat down. “Serenity, don’t mind her. I spoiled her with bad habits. Today, no matter what, brother will stay with you.” I looked at the chopsticks he held reversed in his hand, calmly lowering my gaze. Within ten minutes, he checked his phone over twenty times. Later, he took a call, then told me apologetically, “Serenity, brother’s company has an urgent matter. Brother will pick you up tomorrow for your dress fitting.” Before I could respond, he had already rushed out. I put down my chopsticks, scratching the constantly erupting red bumps on my arm. Opening the drawer, my allergy medicine was finished. I had no choice but to put on my coat and go to the hospital. At the hospital stairwell, as I came out with my medicine, I saw a sobbing, aggrieved Clara and my brother gently comforting her. 3 I stood on the steps, seeing through the bustling crowd. Watching my heavily germ-phobic brother kneel on one knee, gently massaging Clara’s foot. Clara was draped in his expensive suit jacket, eating small bites of seafood from the meal box in her hand. My brother glanced at her, then, without a trace of discomfort, used his sleeve to wipe a smudge of oil from the corner of her mouth. Clara pouted, huffing, “Didn’t brother say I wasn’t the Fox family’s eldest daughter? Then what are you doing here looking for me! Go be with your biological sister!” My brother was caught off guard, pushed to the ground. Yet, there was no anger on his face, only a trace of helpless, doting indulgence. “My little princess, who do you think I say these things for?” “Not letting you stay for dinner was because that seafood was just some ready-made food I had someone buy casually. This one in your hand is what brother personally selected and cooked.” “I know you love seafood most, so brother picked the best and freshest ones. Much better than what Serenity ate.” The stinging pain from my seafood allergy seemed to amplify, making me unsteady on my feet. Clara broke into a satisfied smile through her tears. “Silly girl, Serenity is different from you.” “She got lost as a child, passed through several hands, unloved and uncared for, suffered so much. If I just give her a little sweetness, she’ll be eternally grateful.” “A few cheap ready-made dishes are enough to make her happy. If she’s happy, she won’t challenge your position. Why don’t you understand brother’s good intentions?” “Don’t go to her place on the fifteenth anymore. Her place is small and inconvenient. If you suffer any grievance, brother will be the one hurting.” Clara sniffed, discontentedly. “I just don’t want to see her monopolize brother, not for a single day. Brother is mine alone! What is she? She got lost! Why did she even come back? Couldn’t she just have died out there?!” My brother dotingly tweaked her nose. “Alright, alright, from now on, brother will make excuses, and won’t go on the fifteenth either. I’ll only spend every day with my little princess, okay?” “Hmph, that’s more like it.” A surge of sharp pain rushed through my heart. I leaned against the wall, feeling somewhat drained. So, that’s what my brother had always thought. Because I had suffered much, I should be more content. A little kindness was enough to make me willingly remain outside. To be the unacknowledged Fox daughter for a lifetime. He put himself through such trouble for his beloved sister. Even having to dedicate one day each month to appease me, so I wouldn’t covet his sister’s position. Yet, before I was five, He had said I was his only beloved little princess in this world. He said he wished his sister a life of happiness, free from worries. Hence, my name, Serenity. I thought he remembered, surely he remembered. But it turned out, only I remembered. Tears fell without warning, scalding my cheeks. The old wound in my heart suddenly throbbed intensely. I remembered the doctor saying emotional fluctuations could cause a relapse. I desperately tilted my head back, the suppressed tears flowing into my throat, bitter and astringent. No longer looking at the laughing pair, I silently turned, merged into the crowd, and left alone. Perhaps, I should have left much earlier. After all, there was someone who truly loved me, waiting far away. Julian seemed to sense something, looking up hastily, but found nothing. He clutched his slightly uncomfortable chest, pulling out his phone to send a message to his assistant. The assistant quickly replied, “Mr. Fox, I personally handed the invitation to Miss Serenity. She looked at it, put it in her bag, and showed no extreme reaction.” Julian finally breathed a sigh of relief. He knew I cared for him so much that whatever decision he made, I would silently accept it.

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1 I scrolled past a post: “How to have an affair and get away with it?” There was an anonymous, highly upvoted answer. “Move into an apartment downstairs from her, buy identical furniture, use the same scented candles, even the same brand of shower gel.” “That way, even if you smell of it, your wife will just think it’s the smell of home.” Someone below asked: “That’s brilliant? Have you actually done it?” The user replied: “In progress. Just showered at the downstairs place and came back up. My wife’s hugging me now, telling me how good I smell.” I leaned down and sniffed my sleeping husband. He carried the familiar scent of white tea. And he’d just left, claiming he was taking out the trash, but was gone for an hour and a half. A strange impulse led me to unlock his phone. Everything seemed normal. Except for a purchase record for shower gel. The delivery address was “Building 8, Apartment 801, this community.” My home was in Building 8, Apartment 601. I stared intently at the online order page. “Elizabeth Arden White Tea Shower Gel, 500ml, two-pack.” “Delivery address: Building 8, Apartment 801, Recipient: Mr. Lewis.” And I was sleeping in Building 8, Apartment 601. “Honey, you smell wonderful, like home.” That was the first thing he said to me when he came back from “taking out the trash” downstairs tonight, holding me tight. Even though he was gone for an hour and a half. Even though his hair looked freshly blow-dried and fluffy when he returned. I’d brushed away my suspicions because of that familiar scent. Until I, on a whim, unlocked his phone. I refused to believe it. Liam Lewis, the model husband in everyone’s eyes, would betray me. I didn’t wake him. Years of professional experience allowed me to quickly regain my composure, even though my fingers were still uncontrollably trembling. I opened his browsing history. The first item was a forum Q&A post. “How to have an affair and get away with it?” That anonymous, highly upvoted answer was posted by his account. “Move into an apartment downstairs from her, buy identical furniture, use the same scented candles, even the same brand of shower gel.” “That way, even if you smell of it, your wife will just think it’s the smell of home.” The timestamp on the follow-up question was ten minutes ago. “That’s brilliant? Have you actually done it?” He replied: “In progress. Just showered at the downstairs place and came back up. My wife’s hugging me now, telling me how good I smell. What do you call that? Hiding in plain sight. A woman’s intuition is a joke in the face of absolute detail.” I suppressed the nausea, took screenshots of these pages one by one, and uploaded them to my cloud drive. Then, I quietly left the bedroom. In the living room, moonlight spilled onto the sofa. It was the one we’d chosen when we got married, after I’d scoured every furniture store in town. He’d said, “Whatever you like, darling, it’s fine by me.” According to the post. Now, directly above me, two floors up in Apartment 801. There was an identical sofa. Perhaps just an hour ago, he and another woman were intimately entangled on that very same sofa. I had to go up and see. I had to see it with my own eyes. I stood before the closed security door of 801. The door bore a sticker identical to ours: a red background with gold letters wishing good fortune. I held my breath, pressing my ear against the door. Faintly, piano music drifted out. It was “Wedding Dream.” It was also my favorite piece to play when I had free time at home on weekends. Liam used to say he loved hearing me play that song most of all. Now, the woman inside was not only using my shower gel, sleeping with my husband, but she was even mimicking my life. 2 The next morning. Sunlight streamed into the bedroom. Liam woke up as usual and gave me a good morning kiss. “Morning, sweetheart.” “Morning.” I forced a smile, placing his fried eggs in front of him. “Sleep well last night?” Liam took a sip of milk, his expression perfectly calm. “Very well, I always sleep so soundly next to you. Oh, by the way, some apartment upstairs was playing the piano late last night, it was a bit noisy. You heard it too, right?” “Really?” I feigned nonchalance. “I’m a heavy sleeper, didn’t hear a thing. But the soundproofing here isn’t great. I’ll complain to the building management sometime.” “Don’t!” Liam reacted quickly. “I mean, we’re neighbors, no need to make things awkward. Maybe it’s someone new who doesn’t know the rules yet, it’ll probably be fine in a few days.” “Someone new?” I looked up at him. “How do you know they’re new?” Liam’s eyes flickered. “Oh, I ran into the building manager last night when I was taking out the trash, and he mentioned someone just moved into the 8th floor.” “The 8th floor… That is pretty close.” Liam seemed unwilling to linger on the topic and quickly changed the subject. “By the way, darling, can I pick you up from work today? We haven’t been to that Japanese restaurant in ages.” “No need, I have to work late today.” I declined. “You go ahead and eat.” A flicker of delight crossed his eyes, though he said, “You work too hard, sweetheart. Remember to eat on time.” Of course he was happy. My overtime meant he had more time to go to 801, to be with his “baby.” After seeing Liam off, I didn’t go to work. I went straight to the apartment complex’s management office. “Hello, I’d like to ask who the owner of Building 8, Apartment 801 is? I’m from 601, and my bathroom is leaking. I suspect the waterproofing upstairs isn’t done properly, but no one answers when I knock.” The front desk assistant checked her computer. “801? The owner is registered as a Ms. Chloe Sterling.” Chloe Sterling. At the sound of the name, my mind quickly searched Liam’s circle of acquaintances. No one by that name. “Did she just move in?” I asked again. “No, the apartment was renovated about half a year ago, but it’s been empty until recently. Someone just started moving in and out, it seems.” The front desk assistant looked at me strangely. “And that apartment… when it was renovated, the permit was issued at the same time as yours. It seems to be the same interior design company.” I froze. The same interior design company. Half a year ago. So, as early as six months ago, or even earlier, Liam had been planning all of this. Leaving the management office, I sat on a bench in the community garden and opened that forum post. Sure enough, Liam had updated it. “My wife’s working overtime today, divine intervention! Almost got caught last night because of the piano, luckily I reacted quickly. Today I’m planning to buy the woman upstairs an identical robot vacuum, otherwise I’ll have to clean myself, it’s too much work. Oh, someone asked if I get the two homes mixed up. Actually, as long as you fix the position of everything, muscle memory takes care of it.” Someone commented below: “The poster is truly a time management guru, but don’t you think this is a bit twisted?” He replied: “Twisted? This is about pursuing perfection. I’ve provided my wife with a privileged life and given my mistress perfect companionship. I haven’t wronged anyone.” At that moment, a woman walked past me. The woman was quite delicate-looking, probably in her early twenties. She seemed to be on the phone, her voice sweetly melodious. “Honey, I know, I’ll open the robot vacuum when it arrives… You come up early tonight, okay? Remember not to go to the wrong door, hehe.” As she passed me, a familiar scent of shower gel wafted from her. I stared intently at her retreating back. Chloe Sterling. This was the woman living in 801, wearing my clothes, using my perfume, sleeping with my husband. A strong desire for revenge surged in my mind. Liam, since you enjoy playing this substitution game. Then I will play along. 3 Over the next few days, I behaved exceptionally docilely. I went to work as usual, came home, and cooked dinner. I expressed understanding for Liam’s late returns, and even gently told him to take care of himself when he claimed he had company meetings and couldn’t come home for dinner. Liam clearly relished this situation. He boasted on the forum: “My wife has been especially understanding lately. It seems my strategy is working. As long as I don’t show any flaws, she’ll always be that happy little fool. Tonight, I plan to try out the new projector in 801. It’s the same model as the one downstairs, so I won’t even need to adjust to a different remote.” Friday evening. I purposely bought a bouquet of fresh flowers and came home early. As I entered, Liam was on the balcony talking on the phone. Seeing me, he hung up in a hurry and came to greet me. “Honey, why are you home so early today?” “It’s the fifth anniversary of us meeting, darling, did you forget?” I smiled, handing him the flowers. Liam paused, clearly having forgotten. All his brain cells were tied up juggling two women; he had no time for such dates. But he reacted quickly, immediately slapping his forehead. “Oh, my mind! Of course I remember! I was just about to surprise you!” “Really? What surprise?” “Um… actually, I ordered a cake, it’ll be delivered soon.” He bluffed. I sneered inwardly. That cake, I bet it was for Chloe Sterling upstairs, wasn’t it? “That’s wonderful,” I linked my arm through his. “By the way, darling, I wanted to discuss something with you.” “What is it?” “My mom hasn’t been feeling well lately and wants to come to the city for a check-up. I was thinking our apartment, although it’s two bedrooms, the second bedroom is too small, and Mom wouldn’t be comfortable. I saw Apartment 801 upstairs seems to be empty. How about we ask if we can rent it for a few days?” Liam’s face instantly stiffened. “That… that’s not necessary, is it?” he stammered. “Your mom can just stay with us, we’ll make do. Besides, it’s such a hassle to rent someone’s apartment, and… and 801 is occupied.” “Occupied? Didn’t you say last time they just moved in and you weren’t familiar with them?” “Ah… yes, it’s precisely because we’re not familiar that it’s awkward to ask.” Cold sweat beaded on Liam’s forehead. “Honey, why are you suddenly so interested in the upstairs apartment?” “I’m just thinking about Mom.” I released his arm and turned to the kitchen for plates and utensils. “Fine, then Mom can stay in the second bedroom. But…” “But I think our apartment’s decor is a bit outdated. You know, I wonder if 801 is decorated better. I really want to go up and see.” “Clang!” Liam’s phone slipped from his hand and fell to the floor. “Honey, you… what are you talking about?” He bent to pick up his phone, his hand trembling violently. “Nothing, just an observation.” I smiled. “Let’s eat.” Liam picked at his food, barely tasting it. He frequently checked his phone, his eyes darting around. I knew he was messaging Chloe, telling her to be quiet tonight, to make absolutely no noise. But what he didn’t know was. I had already contacted my family. My dad, a retired military man, with a fiery temper. My brother, a fitness trainer, who could knock out an ox with one punch. And my best friend, a famous relationship blogger in the city, specializing in catching cheaters live, with five million followers. I told Liam I’d be going to a neighboring city for a two-day business trip tomorrow, attending a closed training session. The joy in Liam’s eyes almost overflowed, but he still feigned concern, holding me: “Honey, I’ll miss you. Be careful while you’re away.” Don’t worry, I’ll certainly give you a weekend you won’t forget. 4 Saturday afternoon. I sent Liam a text: “Honey, I’ve arrived at the hotel. The signal here isn’t great, so I might be out of touch. Don’t worry about me.” Liam replied instantly: “Okay, darling. You work hard, get some rest.” Putting down my phone, I wasn’t at a hotel in a neighboring city. I was sitting in a private room at a coffee shop across from our apartment complex. A laptop sat before me, the screen displaying the real-time interface of that forum. Liam’s post had updated: “Finally free! My wife’s away for two days, tonight I’m going to totally relax in 801. That apartment is my utopia, no need to pretend, no need to act. Tonight, I’m taking the red wine from downstairs up to share with my baby.” I looked at the screen, a cold smile curling my lips. No need to pretend? No need to act? Tonight, I’ll let you act to your heart’s content. Eight o’clock in the evening. Dusk had fallen. Lights began to flicker on across the apartment complex. Through binoculars, I clearly saw the curtains in Apartment 801 drawn. The position of that window was exactly the same as our living room. “Is everyone here?” I turned to my best friend beside me. My friend adjusted the camera in her hand and gave an OK gesture. “Don’t worry, the live stream is preheating. The title is ‘Live Reveal: The Perfect Cheater Who Duplicated His Home,’ and online viewers have already surpassed one hundred thousand.” I looked to the other side. My dad and brother stood with grim faces, carrying sledgehammers and wrenches bought from a hardware store. And the building manager I’d specifically invited, along with a few nosy elderly neighbors who loved to gossip. “Let’s go.” I stood up, adjusting my collar. “Time to deliver a surprise to Mr. Lewis.” The group marched into the apartment complex, heading straight for Building 8. The elevator numbers flickered. My heartbeat, however, remained unusually steady. “Ding —” Eighth floor. A crowd poured out of the elevator, blocking the entrance to 801. The building manager, nervously wiping sweat from his brow, knocked hard on the door, following the script I’d given him. “Open up! Open up! Downstairs is reporting a serious leak, we need to inspect immediately!” No movement from inside. “Hurry up! If you don’t open the door, we’ll have to force our way in! It concerns public safety!” The building manager raised his voice. After about thirty seconds, Liam’s impatient voice came from inside. “Who is it! What’s all the noise this late at night! There’s no leak!” “Sir, the downstairs apartment is flooded! If you don’t cooperate, we’ll have to call the police!” At the mention of “police,” the door finally opened. Liam only opened the door a crack, his face full of anger as he poked his head out. “Are you people crazy? I told you there’s no…” Before he could finish. My brother kicked the door hard. “Bang!” The security door slammed against the wall. Liam stumbled backward from the force, almost falling. The door swung wide open. Everyone’s gaze instantly focused on the interior. Despite being mentally prepared, seeing the scene with my own eyes was still absurd. It really was. Exactly the same. This place was a copy-paste of 601 downstairs. He stared in horror at the invading crowd. First, he saw my best friend holding the camera, then my grim-faced parents, and finally, his gaze settled on me, standing right in the center of the crowd. In that instant, his expression was as if he’d seen a ghost. “H-honey? How are you…” His voice was trembling, and his legs were shaking too. “Darling, what’s wrong? What’s all the commotion?” The bedroom door opened. Chloe Sterling walked out, her eyes heavy with sleep. Seeing the room full of people, she let out a shriek, wanting to retreat back into the room, but it was too late. The live stream instantly exploded. Bullet comments scrolled frantically: “Holy cow! Is this guy a psycho?!” “Even horror movies aren’t made like this!” “This is the poster? Incredible!” Liam’s face was ashen, drained of all color. He looked at Chloe, then at the room full of familiar furniture, and finally at me. “Honey, listen to me… this… this is a misunderstanding…”

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I was reborn, waiting in line in the Underworld, to pick a new mother. The Fate Official, his face expressionless, presented me with three options. Card A: Gentle and Loving Mother; Card B: Wealthy but Single Mother; Card C: Random Blind Box. He asked, “What did your last mother do to you, that you’d rather risk your soul dissolving than be tied to her again?” When my father was home, she would always make me wear a metal muzzle. She’d say, “Your voice is too seductive, it will steal men’s souls.” The first lipstick my father ever bought me, she broke it in front of me, then brutally smeared it all over my face, accusing me of mimicking her to entice men. When my father praised my good grades at the dinner table, she would immediately report me to the school for cheating, forcing me to read a public apology in front of the entire student body. The Fate Official listened in silence. I looked at the words “Gentle and Loving” on Card A and bowed deeply to him. “Sir, please, I just want to be the daughter of an ordinary person.” But to my dismay, when I opened my eyes again, I saw my mother. Are you serious?! … 1 They said I was getting a new reincarnation, but instead, I was back in my ten-year-old self. The crystal chandelier in the living room cast fragmented light. My father, Mr. Harrison, pushed a delicate velvet box towards me. “Stella, happy birthday.” I opened it. Inside was a music box shaped like a ballerina, with a warm, white jade base. My father smiled and said, “My daughter is so beautiful; she’ll surely shine on stage like this someday.” Phoebe Frost, my mother, walked over, wrapped her arm around my father’s, and smiled, her beauty graceful and moving. “Of course our Stella is the best. Darling, you have such good taste, this gift suits our daughter perfectly.” Her fingernail brushed lightly against my shoulder, and my whole body tensed. That night, I placed the music box by my bedside and wound it up. Clear music flowed out, the ballerina spun under the lamp, her skirt twirling. I watched it until I fell asleep. In the middle of the night, I was startled awake. Phoebe Frost stood by my bed, holding the music box. In front of me, with a chilling smile, she slowly twisted the winding key until it snapped. The crisp music abruptly ceased. Then, as if breaking a dry twig, she easily snapped off the ballerina’s head. She tossed the fragments at my feet, looking down at me, her voice cold and piercing: “Do you deserve something like this?” “Don’t think just because your father gives you a few nice things you can become some princess. Dream on! You low-born trash, you only deserve garbage!” At the dinner table the next day, my father asked about the music box. Before I could speak, Phoebe casually said, “It broke. Kids are clumsy.” My father frowned. “How could you be so careless?” Phoebe glanced at me, the warning in her eyes chilling me to the bone. I could only lower my head, swallowing all my words. My father didn’t press further, just told me to be more careful next time. But as he looked at Phoebe, a hint of doubt flickered in his eyes. A few days later, my father returned from a business trip and brought me a delicate silver bracelet. As soon as I put it on, Phoebe walked over. She glanced at it, a sneer curling her lips. In front of me, she unclasped the bracelet, threw it on the ground, and stomped on it with her high heel until the silver chain broke and deformed. She dug her nails hard into my arm, warning, “Don’t tell your father.” Then she said contemptuously, “Cheap junk, just like you. You only bring me shame. You’re worthless!” Phoebe’s ways of being “good” to me were always unique. She never hit me, never yelled at me. She simply, with the gentlest demeanor, pushed me little by little into an abyss. The school was holding an arts performance, and the teacher chose me to be the lead reciter. I brought the notice home, and my father was overjoyed, saying that night he would buy me a new dress. Phoebe smiled and said, “Our Stella is so impressive, Mother is proud of you.” The day before the performance, she brought in a cup of hot milk. First, she scoffed at me, “A toad trying to eat swan meat. Someone as low-class as you doesn’t deserve to be the lead reciter.” Then she pinched my arm hard, leaving an almost imperceptible bruise. She handed me the milk, saying in a grim tone, “Drink this, and you won’t have to make a fool of yourself.” I looked at the cup of milk, smelling the familiar, slightly bitter almond scent. In my previous life, I drank this milk and developed a high fever the next day, missing the performance. I smiled and took the milk. “Thank you, Mother.” The moment she turned away, I poured all the milk into the potted plant by my bed. The next day, the leaves of that expensive orchid turned yellow. On the morning of the performance, I discovered my speech was missing. I frantically searched my entire room, sweating profusely. Phoebe walked in, pretending to help me search. She stroked my head, sighing, “Stella, are you too tired? You can’t even remember where you put things.” “How about you just don’t go? Mother feels bad for you.” I stood in the center of the stage, wearing the beautiful new dress my father bought me. Phoebe and my father sat in the front row. The lights came up, and I clearly saw the gentle smile on her face instantly freeze. She clearly hadn’t expected me to be able to stand here safe and sound, without even needing the speech manuscript. I didn’t look at any notes, delivering the recitation in the loudest, clearest voice. The audience erupted in applause. My father excitedly stood up, proudly introducing me to those around him, “That’s my daughter!” Phoebe also stood and clapped, but the smile on her face didn’t reach her eyes. On the way home, she kept praising me. “Our Stella was amazing today, like a little star.” The moment we entered the house, the smile on her face vanished. She walked into my room and closed the door. She stared at me sinisterly, her voice slithering into my ears like a venomous snake: “You’re very smug, aren’t you? Don’t forget, everything you have belongs to the Harrison family, including your life.” 2 I needed an opportunity to escape. An opportunity my father couldn’t refuse, and Phoebe couldn’t openly obstruct. I began to “obsess” over painting. I spent all my allowance on art supplies, shutting myself in my room every day after school. My academic grades plummeted. The teacher called my parents. When my father came home, he lost his temper with me for the first time. He threw a stack of failing test papers in front of me. “Stella Harrison, what on earth are you doing?” Phoebe quickly stepped in to mediate. She hugged me and said to my father, “Don’t scare the child. Stella might just be under too much pressure lately.” She turned to me, gently asking, “Stella, tell Mother, why aren’t you studying well?” I lowered my head and pulled a drawing from my art portfolio. It was a charcoal portrait of my father that I had worked on for an entire week. In the drawing, he wore a suit, looking spirited and bright-eyed. It was him at his most handsome, as I remembered him in his youth. My father was stunned. He picked up the drawing, his fingers gently tracing the image. His anger visibly dissipated. “This… you drew this?” I nodded. Phoebe’s face changed. I continued to pull out more drawings from my portfolio. I had drawn him working, playing chess, and telling stories. Every single one was him. My father looked through them one by one, his eyes slowly reddening. “Darling, look how much Stella loves you,” Phoebe’s voice was strained. I seized the opportunity and whispered, “Father, I want to learn to paint.” Phoebe immediately objected, “What’s the use of learning to paint? Can you eat it? The most important thing for you right now is to improve your studies!” But my father carefully collected the stack of drawings and put them in a drawer in his study. He came out and said to Phoebe, “Let her go.” “This child has talent.” “Hire the best teachers, go to the best art studio.” Phoebe’s lips moved, but she ultimately failed to voice her objections. After my father left, the facade on Phoebe’s face instantly shattered. She grabbed my arm, her nails almost digging into my flesh, hissing in a low voice, “You think just because you have some talent for painting, you can fly? You’re useless! What else can you do besides paint? You don’t deserve your father’s love!” The art studio my father found for me was called “River Bend.” It was the most famous art center in the city. In my previous life, I was only recommended here by my school psychologist when I was on the verge of a breakdown. Here, I met Professor Hayes. She was the Card A I had drawn. She was the only light in both my lives. In this life, I arrived five years early. Pushing open the studio door, the warm scent of paint washed over me. Sunlight streamed through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, falling on easels and plaster casts. Children sat quietly in front of their easels, only the soft rustle of brushes on paper to be heard. A woman in a linen dress was bending over, teaching a child how to mix colors, hand-over-hand. Her profile was gentle, her voice soft. “See, add a little more blue, and it’s like the evening sky.” It was her. Professor Hayes. I stood at the doorway, my heart pounding. How could I get back to her side? She seemed to notice my gaze, looked up, and met my eyes. Her gaze was clear and warm, with an inquiring kindness. I gripped the drawing board in my hand and walked towards her. “Professor, hello, I’m a new student, my name is Stella Harrison.” She gave me a gentle smile. “Welcome, Stella. What a beautiful name.” She pointed to an empty easel. “Your spot is over there. Go ahead and put your things down.” That afternoon, I painted a sunflower. Vast fields of golden sunflowers, reaching for the sun, growing wild. Professor Hayes walked behind me and watched for a long time. She didn’t comment on my technique, but just asked softly, “You seem to really like the sun?” I nodded vigorously. She ran her hand through my hair, a natural and intimate gesture. “It’s beautifully painted, full of vitality.” When my father came to pick me up, Professor Hayes chatted with him for a few minutes. She praised me, saying I was “spirited, talented, a child born to walk this path.” My father was overjoyed, smiling all the way home. Phoebe Frost’s face, however, grew darker and darker. That night, she walked into my room and picked up my sunflower painting. “Not bad.” She placed the painting on the table, her fingertip aggressively slashing across the golden paint. A glaring scratch appeared right in the center of the sun. She then picked up a paintbrush, savagely poking at my painting, muttering, “So ugly, no talent at all.” She looked at me, a sinister smile playing on her lips. “You think you’re good at painting? It’s just Mr. Harrison’s charity. You are nothing, and you’ll never escape my grasp!” 3 My time at the “River Bend” art studio was the most peaceful period of my ten years. Professor Hayes never stinted on her praise. She would hang my paintings in the most prominent spots, and recommend my works to gallery owners who came to visit. With her encouragement, I grew more confident, and my painting skills improved by leaps and bounds. Phoebe’s need for control, however, grew with my “unruliness.” She began to appear frequently at the studio. Sometimes bringing afternoon tea, sometimes picking me up after school. Each time she came, she would intimately link arms with Professor Hayes, addressing her as “Professor Hayes” over and over again. “Our Stella really owes it all to you.” “This child has been shy since she was little, doesn’t like to talk. Only you have the patience.” She handed Professor Hayes a beautifully wrapped box. “Just a small token of my appreciation, please don’t refuse.” Professor Hayes couldn’t decline, so she accepted it. After Phoebe left, Professor Hayes opened the box. Inside was a scarf, gaudily colored and old-fashioned. Most importantly, the price tag hadn’t been removed. A glaring number highlighted its cheapness. Professor Hayes looked at the scarf, her expression becoming complex. I walked over and whispered, “Professor, my mother, she…” But Professor Hayes shook her head at me. She put away the scarf and gave me a gentle smile. “Your mother loves you very much.” I knew she saw through it. But she couldn’t say anything. Phoebe was too cunning. She disguised herself as an ordinary mother who loved her daughter dearly but was not good at expressing it. Any questioning of her would be interpreted as a provocation against a mother. Phoebe’s tactics didn’t stop there. She started trying to isolate me. She would bring exquisite pastries to the studio, distributing them to all the children, except me. She would smile and explain, “Stella is a bit prone to heat lately, she should eat less sweets.” The children, eating their desserts, looked at me with a mix of pity and a hint of distance. She would also, in front of Professor Hayes and other parents, “accidentally” bring up some of my “embarrassing moments.” “This child is particularly timid; she can’t sleep alone at night.” “And she’s a picky eater, won’t touch a single green vegetable. She worries me sick.” With these trivial, seemingly harmless details, she wove a web. Inside that web, I was a troublesome child, disobedient, needing constant “care.” And she was the great mother, worrying herself sick over me. Professor Hayes noticed my low spirits. That day, she kept me back alone. She didn’t ask me anything, but simply pulled out a photo album. Inside were her paintings from childhood to adulthood. The first one was a wobbly stick figure. “This is what I drew when I was five. My mother said it was the handsomest prince she’d ever seen.” The last one was a mature oil painting that had won an international award. She closed the album and looked at me. “Stella, art doesn’t lie.” “Your paintings tell me you are a child with a volcano inside.” “Don’t let anyone extinguish your flame.” I looked into her clear eyes, and the ice that had frozen in my heart for so long cracked open. That evening, I didn’t go straight home. I used the studio phone to call my father. I said I missed him, and wanted to wait for him at the studio after work so we could go home together. On the other end of the line, my father was pleasantly surprised. Half an hour later, he appeared at the studio door. Phoebe had come along, her face grim. “Stella, why are you so thoughtless, bothering your father’s work so late?” But my father scooped me up. “My daughter wanting me is never a bother, no matter the time.” He looked at Phoebe, his brow slightly furrowed. “Don’t always criticize the child.” This was the first time my father had openly contradicted Phoebe because of me. Phoebe’s body stiffened. I rested my head on my father’s shoulder, looking at her ashen face, my heart completely calm. This was just the beginning. 4 The city was holding a Youth Art Competition. The first-place prize was a full scholarship to an art summer camp in France. For two months. This was a perfect opportunity for me to escape Phoebe’s control. I poured all my time and energy into preparing my competition piece. I would paint the best painting. A painting that would allow everyone to see my light, and also her shadow. I chose the theme “Caged Bird.” On the canvas, a magnificently plumed golden bird was trapped in an exquisitely beautiful cage. Outside the cage, spring bloomed brightly, with flowers everywhere. Inside the cage, there was only a small dish of clear water and a few grains of rice. The bird’s eyes stared out the window, filled with a longing for freedom. When Professor Hayes saw my rough sketch, she was silent for a long time. She only said one thing: “Stella, paint what you want, paint boldly.” I could feel Phoebe growing more anxious. She would come to the studio every day, ostensibly to visit, but truly to supervise. She would stand behind me, watching me construct that elaborate cage stroke by stroke. Her voice was faint and eerie. “Stella, the cage is so beautifully drawn.” “The bird stays inside, safe from wind and rain, so secure.” I ignored her, continuing to paint. I didn’t touch the afternoon tea she brought. I didn’t listen to a single word of her “jokes.” In my world, there was only the canvas, and that bird longing to fly. The night before the submission deadline, I finally completed the painting. I carefully rolled it up and placed it in an art tube. I knew Phoebe would act. I waited for her. Phoebe came, as expected. She carried a cup of warm milk, her smile as gentle as ever. “Stella, when you’re done painting, get some rest. You have the competition tomorrow.” I took the milk and meekly said, “Thank you, Mother.” She watched with satisfaction as I drank the “milk,” then tucked me into bed and turned off the light. I lay in bed, listening to her footsteps fade away. Then, I immediately got out of bed, rushed to the bathroom, and spat out all the plain water I had just drunk. I had already poured out that cup of milk. I returned to my room, pulled an identical art tube from under my bed. Inside was a rough draft I had hastily copied in two days. I placed this art tube in the most obvious spot. The real “Caged Bird” was hidden in the deepest part of my closet. Having done all this, I lay back in bed and closed my eyes. At three in the morning, my bedroom door quietly opened. A dark figure tiptoed in and took the art tube from the table. In the darkness, I opened my eyes, perfectly clear. The next day, Phoebe drove me to the competition venue. She encouraged me all the way. “Stella, don’t be nervous, just do your best. Winning or not isn’t important; Mother will always be proud of you.” Her performance was, as always, flawless. At the venue, staff began to receive submissions. I handed over the art tube. Phoebe stood beside me, her face a mix of anticipation and nervousness. The staff member opened the art tube and pulled out the rolled canvas. The moment the painting unfurled, everyone gasped. The canvas was haphazardly smeared with black oil paint. The golden bird was completely covered by heavy black, revealing only one desperate eye. The entire painting was utterly destroyed. Phoebe immediately rushed forward, her reaction even faster than mine. She embraced me, her voice trembling with “shock.” “Oh my goodness! Who did this? How could this happen?” Her eyes were red-rimmed as she looked at me, full of feigned distress. “My Stella, you spent so long painting… what will we do now…” Her acting was worthy of an Oscar. The surrounding parents and contestants gathered, pointing and whispering about the ruined painting. I stood rooted to the spot, unmoving. I looked at Phoebe, at her face etched with “grief” and “anger.” She thought she had won again.

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After dinner, I sat in Ryan’s lap, his chin resting on the crook of my neck. Suddenly, he said, “Honey, why do you feel so tiny?” I froze. While I was 5’3″ and Ryan was 6’2″, we’d been together for six whole years. How could he not be used to my size? I playfully retorted, “What, after six years, you’re just now noticing I’m ‘tiny’?” Ryan realized his slip, pretending nothing happened by lifting me and kissing me fiercely against the wall. After the kiss, he coaxed me in an intimate tone: “How could I, honey?” “I love that feeling of being able to wrap my arms completely around your petite frame.” That night, Ryan tirelessly pinned me to the bed, with a hint of punishment in his touch. Even my sister, when she brought me gifts from abroad the next day, teased: “Tsk tsk, Ryan really isn’t afraid of breaking your delicate little body.” But I just held her hand and said, “Sis, I need to call off the wedding with Ryan.” 1 “Ann, could it be a misunderstanding?” My sister took the lunch delivery from the door, arranging the containers one by one: “Look, for six years, Ryan has consistently made sure your life is perfectly arranged.” “Even Mom and Dad say he’s spoiled you like a princess.” “He’s a decisive, no-nonsense executive outside, but at home, he’s your loyal golden retriever.” I clutched the cartoon blanket tighter around me, saying nothing. Even this blanket, Ryan had waited in line for three hours at Disney to buy for me. Sometimes I’d feel I was too much of a princess, but he’d just smile and say, “Ann is a treasure sent by heaven out of pity for me.” “Aren’t treasures meant to be spoiled?” Just then, Ryan’s exclusive ringtone sounded. As soon as I answered, his urgent voice came through: “Honey, the chef put shrimp paste in today’s pasta. Don’t eat it.” “I just saw the new menu details.” “Either give it to your sister or throw it away~ Hubby will take you out for something delicious tonight, okay?” Listening to his usual tender instructions, a wave of bitterness surged. My throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton. I mumbled, “Okay.” After the call, my sister, with a teasing look, pulled the pasta toward herself. “Your husband certainly remembers everything, even checking again after ordering takeout.” “You’re telling me this Ryan cheated? I don’t believe it.” I remained silent, my heart a mix of emotions. Ever since I had that mild seafood allergy and broke out in a rash. Ryan was so worried he didn’t close his eyes all night, staying with me as I got an IV drip. His eyes were red: “Honey, I’ll absolutely check your food carefully from now on.” Now, he certainly kept that promise. But the next second, the last takeout box “snapped” open. Inside was a steamed egg, generously sprinkled with chopped scallions. My hand froze. “Huh? ‘Steamed egg with extra scallions: My wife likes it.’ Ann, don’t you hate scallions in steamed eggs?” My sister, holding the order slip, saw my expression. Her face also began to grow serious. “So, he really has another wife out there?” Meticulous as Ryan was, he had never given me even one steamed egg with scallions. Combined with what Ryan said last night. I sat numbly on the sofa, an unnamed bitterness creeping through my entire body. After a long while, I finally managed a self-deprecating smile. “Yes. Ryan, he definitely cheated.” My fiancé, not only hugged other women, but also meticulously ordered meals for her. These things used to be exclusively mine. So, that woman is tall and loves scallions, is that it? I decisively grabbed my car keys and walked out. “Sis, I’m going to Ryan’s company.” I wanted to see what kind of woman could steal the Ryan who had loved me for six years. 2 I had considered countless possibilities. The woman could be a secretary looking to climb the ladder, a pure and innocent intern, or even some social climber trying to hook into the Sterling family. But none of them were true. Ryan had been on set recently, shooting a company promotional video. When I stormed in, I only needed one glance at the woman. And just like that, I completely felt that Ryan and I were truly over. Ms. Evelyn Grant, 5’9″, with wavy hair. She was the female model for the promotional video. To be precise, she was a disabled female model. Her left calf was fitted with a prosthetic leg. And Ryan’s deceased mother was also a disabled woman. Being an illegitimate son in the Sterling family, with a disabled mother, made his position precarious among his many siblings. The most frequent insult he heard as a child was: “Your mother is disabled, and you’re a cripple too!” “Why should a person with physical deficiencies give birth to a child who competes with us?” His mother was not favored, and her child suffered greatly because of her. She eventually succumbed to depression, leaping from a 30-story building. Ryan once hated her for it: “If she was so fragile, she shouldn’t have impulsively given birth to me.” “Sometimes I feel that disabled people shouldn’t have children.” “They are destined to bear more burdens than ordinary people, and so are their children.” But now, he had fallen in love with a woman who was also disabled. A man who had clearly suffered such profound pain, yet still uncontrollably fell in love. The tumultuous story behind it, even imagining it, felt like a thousand tiny needles piercing me. When I walked over, Ryan was surprised: “Ann, what are you doing here?” My gaze met Evelyn’s, who was also sizing me up. “Just dropping by.” To my surprise, Evelyn spoke up confidently: “This must be Mr. Sterling’s fiancée, Ms. Grant, right?” “Hearing about you doesn’t do you justice; you truly are a rare beauty. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Evelyn Grant, the main model for this promotional video.” I realized, apart from that prosthetic limb. Evelyn was so sunny, confident, radiant, no different from an ordinary person. So, is it because of this, Ryan? Ryan avoided my gaze, looking somewhat agitated. Evelyn, wearing 4-inch heels, looked down at me. Her tone sounded wistful: “I truly envy Ms. Grant’s height. You look so delicate and charming.” “Unlike me, I’m a tall girl.” I looked at her, almost standing shoulder to shoulder with 6’2″ Ryan, and didn’t miss a hint of provocation in her eyes. I smiled, said nothing, and went straight to Ryan’s exclusive seat, crossing my arms. “You guys carry on with the shoot. I just came to watch.” But during the shoot, something unexpected happened. The male model, who only needed to embrace Evelyn in the final scene, suddenly lost control, forcing a kiss on her. He roughly caressed her, howling, “Why are you playing hard to get? I like you so much, why can’t you be with me!” “Ah!” In a few seconds, Evelyn’s clothing was torn. A flash in my peripheral vision, and Ryan had already rushed over. He yanked the man up, landing a fierce punch that immediately drew blood. Everyone hastily pulled Evelyn away, wrapping a trembling blanket around her. Ryan’s eyes were bloodshot, ignoring the man’s pleas, “Stop, stop! I’m sorry!” “Thump! Thump! Thump!” Dull thuds echoed through the set. The man exuded a fierce aura, like an enraged lion. I had only seen him like this once before, that year when I protected him and other members of the Sterling family severely injured me with rocks. His knuckles were turning red, the male model’s breathing grew weaker. But Ryan’s punches were more violent with each strike. I couldn’t stand it anymore and rushed forward to pull him back: “Ryan, that’s enough!” 3 “Get lost! He deserves to die!” Ryan didn’t see clearly and waved me away. By the time he realized, I had already fallen heavily to the ground. Both my palms were scraped raw. “Ann!” Ryan finally released the male model and hastily helped me up. I took a deep breath, a pang of sourness in my nose. The grit and dust of small stones pressing into my palms seemed to settle in my heart. He tried to help me to the side, but stopped abruptly when he heard Evelyn’s soft sobs. Ryan clenched his fist, as if having made a decision. He said, “Ann, I’ll accompany the model to the hospital for a check-up first. Then we’ll wait for the police to file a report.” His eyes kept darting towards Evelyn. As if he was about to rush over to her any second. Instantly, the stinging in my palms spread densely to my heart. Finally, I couldn’t help but ask him, “Ryan, I’m hurt too.” “There are so many other people below; do you really need to handle this personally?” “You even got into such a big fight over it. Do you know you represent the entire Sterling family!” No one knew better than I how difficult it had been for Ryan to get to this point. Over the years, his every move had been cautious. But look at him now: A bloody scratch on his face, damp strands of hair plastered to his temples from anger, the lingering redness in the corners of his eyes. This was no longer the composed Mr. Sterling I knew. I practically roared, my chest heaving violently. It drew frequent glances from the staff. My fiancé, the man I’d loved for six years, was now so concerned about another woman. How could I not be angry, how could I not hate! But Ryan just let out a heavy sigh, his voice weary: “Ann, you need to understand, this is sexual assault.” “Evelyn was harmed while working, and as her boss, I can’t leave.” “This isn’t a small matter.” He looked at me with a warning in his eyes. At this point, what more was there to say? My shoulders slumped. I watched him rush to that woman with a look of relief. He murmured soft words of concern. When my sister came to pick me up, that’s how lost and distraught she found me. As soon as the car drove away from the set, my phone’s notifications exploded. The hashtag #SterlingCEOBeatsUpAssaulterOnSet was prominently displayed. Clicking on it, all I saw were high-definition photos of Ryan protecting Evelyn, throwing punches, and finally, carefully wrapping his jacket around her. The comment section was boiling: [Mr. Sterling is so manly! So responsible!] [The boss personally steps in to protect an employee, overflowing with a sense of security!] [Am I the only one who thinks Mr. Sterling and the model sister are a perfect match?] [Both are tall and have great figures, they could be on a magazine cover with just a change of clothes.] [Business mogul × beautiful, strong, and tragic disabled model, I’m absolutely obsessed!] [Get married, get married on the spot!] My fingertips scrolled coldly over those glaring “perfect match” comments. An inconspicuous comment included a screenshot: [Link to @Evelyn’sSecretGarden for a surprise!] On a whim, I clicked it. It was a newly registered anonymous account, not much content. The latest post was yesterday: [He praised my bravery today.] The accompanying picture showed a bony, well-defined hand offering a hot drink. The watch on that wrist was clearly the birthday gift I had bought for Ryan last year, bidding $8.88 million for it at an auction. It even had our names engraved on it. Scrolling further back: [Rehab is painful, but thinking of him saying ‘imperfection is also beauty,’ I found strength again.] The accompanying picture showed a man applying prosthetic care oil to her, an intimate gesture. Next to it was a hand cream, the woody scent I had specifically bought for him. My heart felt like it was gripped by an icy hand, the suffocating sensation magnified infinitely. All that tenderness and consideration, it had silently seeped into another person. Late at night, a sound came from the entryway. Ryan paused when he saw me: “Ann? Why are the lights off?” I held up my phone, the screen light illuminating my pale face. “Ryan, explain yourself.” “This ‘Evelyn’s Secret Garden,’ whose story does it tell, yours and whose?” 4 Ryan’s face stiffened. He strode closer, his voice taut: “Ann, it’s not what you think.” I abruptly pulled my hand back, my smile strained. “Not what?” I pointed at the photos. “The watch, the cufflinks, the hand cream – they’re all things I gave you! You’re using my things and telling another woman ‘imperfection is also beauty’?” Bitterness welled up in my eyes, which I fiercely held back. He crouched down to my eye level, his gaze gentle and pleading: “Evelyn was startled. She’s disabled, she’s been through a lot of pain. I’m just showing concern and encouragement as her boss. Those words were to comfort her, not to make her feel inferior.” He tried to touch me, but I pulled away. “Concern to the point of personally giving her hot drinks, applying her prosthetic oil, praising her bravery?” My voice trembled. “That comment about me being tiny, were you comparing me to her then too? How disgusting!” “Ann!” Ryan’s voice abruptly rose, filled with anguish. “I never thought that! You are unique!” He took a deep breath, his tone humble, “Honey, I admit I felt more sympathy for her. She reminded me of my mother… but I swear, I never crossed the line! Don’t you know where my heart lies?” I bit my lip, silent, tears silently streaming down. He hated it when I cried, his expression stung. He finally got up and brought over a heavy wooden box. “I intended to give it to you at the wedding.” He knelt on one knee and opened it. Inside wasn’t jewelry, but many smooth, warm small wooden carvings: little rabbits, deer, pavilions, spires… “Do you remember your grandfather always used little wooden carvings to coax you,” he picked them up one by one, recounting their stories. “This panda is the one you said you wanted in Chengdu; this conch is the one you picked up in Sanya…” There were 52 in total, corresponding to places he traveled for business and places we visited, holding all my casually mentioned preferences. “You said when your grandfather passed, no one would coax you with woodwork anymore.” He looked up, his eyes reflecting my tears, and solemnly said: “Ann, your grandfather isn’t here anymore, but I will stay here, using the ways he once made you happy, to continue loving you.” This gesture fiercely struck my crumbling defenses. He actually remembered everything. I wavered. Could Evelyn really just be a projection of his mother to him? Finally, I nodded: “Ryan, I believe you, but you have to promise me. No more contact with Evelyn outside of work.” Ryan hugged me tightly: “Okay, I promise you, honey. I swear.” He kissed away my tears repeatedly, gently coaxing me. That night, I messaged my sister: [Sis, I’ve decided to trust Ryan one more time.] Ryan truly kept his promise, not only publicly clarifying: [Ms. Evelyn Grant and I do not have the relationship speculated. My wedding with my fiancée will be held in three days, and I hope for everyone’s blessings~] The accompanying picture was of him and me, fingers intertwined. The comments section was filled with blessings; those match-making, shipping comments were gone. He even completely delegated future promotional video work to his subordinates. From then on, Evelyn completely vanished from our lives. I thought everything would return to normal. Until the night before the wedding, when I needed to use the study computer. I accidentally saw a folder deep within the files named “EH.” Instinctively, I thought of Evelyn Grant. My lips even trembled. It was an encrypted file. I tried my birthday and his, both were wrong. Ryan was someone who didn’t like complicated passwords. Evelyn’s first tweet on her private account flashed through my mind: [June 28th, my first encounter with him.] 0628. “Dingdong” password correct. My heart plummeted. Inside, there was actually a video. My lover of six years, intimately entangled with Evelyn. The dialogue pierced my ears like venomous snakes: [Ryan, why are you recording this?] [Evelyn, don’t you like it? I’ll treasure this video; Ann doesn’t even get this kind of treatment.] [Only you, Evelyn. Only you. I love you.] I fiercely covered my mouth, a surge of tears welling up, which I forcefully suppressed. Ann, this is the last time you’ll cry for Ryan. That night, Ryan returned from his business dinner, smelling of wine, and collapsed onto me: “Ann, we’re getting married tomorrow. I’m so happy.” “I love you so much, Ann.” But I just stared at him, my fingers unhesitatingly sending that text message: [Sister, please add a little surprise to the wedding tomorrow.] The next day, the wedding venue was dreamlike and dazzling, making my eyes burn with happiness. Relatives greeted each other, their faces full of smiles. Ryan embraced me, emotionally, “Ann, I finally, finally married you. I’m so happy.” I secretly let out a cold laugh. What a pity, it was all just a false illusion. The wedding photos on the big screen suddenly stopped, then abruptly went black. Ryan looked puzzled: “What’s wrong with the screen? I’ll go ask.” However, the next second, the screen flashed with intimate scenes of Ryan and Evelyn intertwined, high-definition and uncensored. The woman’s seductive cries reached everyone’s ears, and that line: [Ryan, I love you so much.]

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1 After three years abroad, I finished my studies just before the holidays. I chartered an overnight flight home to surprise my parents. Instead of calling them, I dragged my suitcase, eager to see their faces. But when I reached my old home, I froze. The grand villa was gone—replaced by a shabby mud shack, its windows patched with paper. The swimming pool had become a smelly pigsty, and our champion Golden Retriever was now a scruffy, flea-covered mutt. For a moment, I thought I’d taken a wrong turn. Then Mom appeared, tanned and carrying pig feed on her shoulder. She stared at me. “Well, look who’s back!” I rushed to ask why she hadn’t told me we’d gone bankrupt. She gave me a blank look. “Studying abroad made you daft, did it? Bankrupt? When were we ever rich?” “Your dad earns barely three dollars for a hundred pounds of pig feed! A year’s work only brings in three thousand! Now that you’re home, you better help, or we’ll starve this holiday!” My jaw dropped. If we’d always been poor, then who bought me all those limited-edition luxury goods? … “What happened to our villa that used to be here? And the swimming pool? And Buster? Our big Golden Retriever!” I’d video-chatted with Mom just a few days ago, and Buster had been right there by her feet! Mom flinched, then spat right on my face. “Villa? Swimming pool? Golden Retriever? Your father’s always been a pathetic excuse for a man. Marrying him was the worst mistake of my life; I’ll never amount to anything!” “And you—” Mom’s eyes raked over me, then she rolled them. “Dressed to the nines, looking like you’re too good for us just because you’ve seen a bit of the world?” “You’ll still end up shoveling pig waste with me!” I stood there, completely numb. My home was gone, and Mom… she was a stranger. My mother, famous in the socialite circles for her impeccable cleanliness and demanding tastes, who insisted everything she touched be screened and disinfected by her staff, was now unrecognizable. Where was the elegant, refined woman I remembered? Had the shock of losing everything caused her to have a breakdown? It couldn’t be! Just as I was about to call Dad to get to the bottom of this, a worn-out middle-aged man hobbled out of the mud shack. His face was identical to Dad’s, but ravaged by time and hardship. “Dad, you’ve changed too—” My gaze dropped, and the words caught in my throat. His right leg was gone, just an empty space below the knee. Dad had been golfing with friends last week when we video-chatted. How could he have ended up like this? Trembling, I knelt and pulled up his pant leg. Gnarly scars crisscrossed his thigh, ending in a distinct amputation site. My voice was barely a whisper. “Dad, what happened to us?” A thousand possibilities flashed through my mind. Our family business was vast; had some formidable enemy driven us to this desperate state? Mom slapped me across the face. “You come home and start asking all these ridiculous questions! Your father’s been a good-for-nothing his whole life. Ten years ago, he got his leg cut off for stealing pork fat and didn’t even dare utter a word!” My face stung, but I felt no pain. Mom had never laid a hand on me since the day I was born! Something was definitely wrong here! I quickly pulled out a video of us surfing at the beach last year. I pointed at the screen, showing it to Mom. “A year ago, Dad’s leg was perfectly fine—” Mom’s eyes flickered across the screen for just a second, then she exploded, pointing at me. “You slut! Wearing so little, trying to tempt your own father, are you?” “I sent you to school, worked myself ragged, and this is what you learn to bring home?” It was a swimsuit! She’d bought it for me herself! Had she forgotten? Mom was now a complete shrew! What on earth had happened to our family? Why had she become like this? Almost fleeing, I stumbled out of the house and turned into the convenience store across the street. There, I bumped into my younger brother, Caleb, his hair dyed bright yellow, arms draped around two gaudily dressed girls. Caleb stared at me, dumbfounded. “Elara? You’re back?” Like a drowning person finding a lifeline, I clutched at him. “Caleb, tell me, what happened to our family? Why are Mom and Dad like this?” But then, Caleb’s expression turned strange. A chill crept down my spine. He said, “Our family has always been like this.” “Have you been away so long you’ve forgotten, Elara?” He gestured vaguely towards our house. “That mud hut, Mom built it the year she got married. And that pigsty, Mom fenced it in. Even our three hundred dollar monthly income depends on Mom.” “And me, your brother. I never went to school, never learned to read. Not like you, who got to see the world after finishing high school!” For a moment, my mind reeled. What did he mean he never went to school or learned to read? And what was with that bitter, resentful tone? He had won the national math competition three years in a row by his freshman year of high school! During the awards ceremony, he’d even given me his trophy, saying it was a gift for me. I still had the award video on my phone. But now, when I opened my gallery, I couldn’t find it anywhere. Even the video I’d shown Mom just moments ago had vanished. I frantically tapped on my chat history with Mom and Dad, only to find their profile pictures grayed out. A creeping coldness slowly ascended my spine. I felt as if I’d stepped into the Truman Show. Why? Was there some catalyst? Or was it just our family that had changed this way? But I’d lived in that house for twenty-five years! And from the moment I stepped off the plane until now, I’d been perfectly lucid. Nothing unusual had happened on the way. I desperately replayed every moment in my mind, feeling like I’d missed something crucial. Suddenly, a message from my best friend popped up. “Elara, I’m almost there! I’ve got a surprise for you!” In an instant, my heart settled. My best friend, Maya, was the daughter of the wealthiest man in the city. We’d met seven years ago at a party thrown by our parents and instantly clicked. We even planned to go to college together, and we’d stayed in close contact even when I went abroad. As soon as I told her I was coming home, Maya declared she’d spend the holidays with me! As soon as she arrived, it would prove my memories were right! They were definitely up to something! Watching the shared location with Maya get closer and closer, my heart quickened. Then, I saw a tricycle approaching. Maya was on it, her clothes old and baggy. She dismounted clumsily. A bad feeling coiled in my stomach. Only when Maya stood before me, greeting me, did I notice how swollen she looked. I forced down the strange sensation in my chest, about to ask her, when Maya, looking slightly smug, lifted her shirt. Her enormous belly swayed precariously with her movements, covered in red veins and stretch marks. “Elara, look. I’m married.” “Quintuplets, four boys. Surprise?” My worldview shattered again. Maya, my best friend with whom I shared everything, was a staunch DINK (dual income, no kids). She’d never even gone to one of the arranged marriages her father tried to set up, always causing a huge fuss. She’d even gone on a hunger strike to make her father give up on the idea of her marrying. My legs felt like jelly. Dad was a pathetic man. Mom was a shrew. My brother was a yellow-haired hooligan. And now, my long-unseen best friend was pregnant with quadruplets. Everyone seemed to be moving in the opposite direction of my memories! It was all wrong, everything was reversed! I was absolutely certain now. I was in another world! I no longer cared why this was happening. All I wanted to do was one thing: I wanted to go home! But my hand was gripped tight. Maya’s strength was incredible, pulling my hand towards her pregnant belly. “Elara, where are you going? Didn’t we say we’d spend the holidays together?” “Don’t you want to see my babies? Didn’t you say you’d be their favorite aunt?” My fingertips trembled. When had I ever said that? But when my palm actually touched Maya’s belly, the babies inside seemed to sense it, kicking me gently. That kick shattered the last sliver of hope in my heart. It was real! I almost spun and ran, my legs so weak I could barely stand. Run away, just run away! It felt like I was the only anomaly in the world. I needed to go home! Seeing I was actually trying to flee, Mom’s face contorted with fury as she chased after me. I cried out in panic, “I’m not your daughter! You’ve got the wrong person!” “I’d recognize you even if you were ashes! You go out and see the world, and now you’re too good for us? Get back here! I’ll sell you to the old beggar by the village entrance!” My best friend, Maya, also called out to me, clutching her pregnant belly. “Elara! Didn’t we say we’d spend the holidays together? Why are you running? Come back!” I bit down hard on my tongue, forcing myself to stay clear-headed. Then, a sharp pain shot through the back of my head. My brother had caught up and struck me hard with a stick. As I lost consciousness, I saw a flicker of sorrow and reluctance in his eyes. He said, “Elara, just bear with it. We’re doing this for your own good.”

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My wife was rarely home, preferring to be out and about with her “male best friend.” My daughter and I barely saw her a few times a year. Then, a few days ago, my wife and her male best friend were in a car accident while on a road trip. The doctor called, saying they needed two hundred thousand dollars for surgery, or she’d lose both her hands. Hearing the news, the corners of my mouth curled into a smile wider than an M16, but I forced myself to suppress it. With feigned sorrow, I told the doctor: “Doctor, when you use the saw, please remember the anesthetic. She’s afraid of pain.” … My wife, Lillian, was an artist. In pursuit of her so-called inspiration, she abandoned our daughter and our home, spending her days on road trips with her male best friend. The last time my daughter and I saw her was six months ago. After getting the doctor’s call, I quickly picked up our daughter, Tina, from kindergarten. Limping, I made my way to my mother-in-law’s house, stating directly that Lillian had been in a car accident and needed two hundred thousand dollars for life-saving surgery. But my mother-in-law didn’t even glance at me. She was busy playing cards with her neighbors, wetting her finger to separate her hand. “Call the Ace!” Then she squinted at me. “Who are you trying to fool? If my daughter was in trouble, why didn’t I get a call? Humph! I bet you, you useless cripple, are just trying to swindle my money!” “Forget two hundred thousand, I wouldn’t give you twenty dollars!” “Get out!” My mother-in-law glared at me contemptuously, utterly unconvinced. Her card partners chimed in, their voices dripping with sarcasm. “Tsk, tsk, a grown man bringing his child to trick his mother-in-law out of money? Aren’t you ashamed?” “What a pity, a brilliant girl like Lillian marrying a cripple…” Those words struck a nerve with my mother-in-law. She slammed her hand down on the table, stood up abruptly, and glared at me, spitting venom. “Arthur! You good-for-nothing cripple, get out of my house!” This scared Tina, who shrunk behind me, timidly saying, “Daddy, Tina’s scared…” I knelt to comfort my daughter, then told my mother-in-law, “I’m sorry, Mom, I might have received a scam call. You know, I care about Lillian too much…” “Get out!” My mother-in-law cursed. In her eyes, with my injured leg, I was never worthy of her daughter. She disliked Tina too, by extension. I took Tina home and settled her in, then slowly made my way to the hospital. Walking into the ward, seeing my wife, Lillian, and her male best friend, both covered in blood, lying on separate beds, my lips fought a battle to remain straight. Under the watchful eyes of the doctors and nurses, I collapsed beside her bed, grasping her hand, feigning utter despair. “Oh, the tragedy!” “You’ve been on so many trips with your male best friend without incident, why a car accident this time…?” “Doctor, can both her hands be saved? Is the surgery risky?” The doctor shook his head. “You arrived too late; the optimal time for treatment has passed. Her hands cannot be saved; now we can only save her life. Please sign the consent form and pay a portion of the surgical fee first!” I struggled to suppress my grin, putting on a distressed expression. “I don’t have any money. All the family’s money is managed by my wife. I tried to borrow from my mother-in-law, but she said it was a scam…” With that, I called my mother-in-law right in front of the doctor. “Mom, I’ve confirmed at the hospital, it’s not a scam call. Lillian really was in a car accident…” “Grand Slam!” My mother-in-law’s voice blared from the phone. “You useless cripple! Still trying to trick me out of money, are you? No chance!” I put it on speaker, and the doctors and nurses heard every word clearly. The doctor couldn’t help but say, “Hello, ma’am, I am your daughter’s surgeon. Your son-in-law is telling the truth…” “Get lost, no one is going to trick me!” My mother-in-law wouldn’t listen, cursing before hanging up. I put my phone away and said to the doctor, “Please save her first, I promise I will pay the money.” “What about this person?” The doctor pointed to the male best friend in the next bed. “He’s also seriously injured. We haven’t been able to contact his family yet. If you know them, please reach out.” “He’s my wife’s male best friend, really just her lover. I don’t know him, and I certainly don’t know his family.” I sighed helplessly. The doctors and nurses exchanged pitying glances. In a flash, Lillian was wheeled into surgery. I took out my phone, opened my messaging app, and sent a photo of Lillian being wheeled into the operating room to my father-in-law, with a message: “Dad, Lillian was in a car accident. The doctors say she might lose both her hands.” After sending the message, I turned off my phone and waited quietly. About an hour later, my father-in-law arrived. The first thing he asked was about Lillian’s condition. I shook my head, sighing, “The doctors said I arrived too late, both her hands couldn’t be saved…” “Why didn’t you come sooner!” My father-in-law exploded in rage, grabbing my collar and yelling, “You useless man! If anything happens to Lillian, I’ll never forgive you!” I calmly replied, “Dad, you can’t blame me. Lillian took all the money from when I sold my company. I had no money for the fees. I went to Mom for money, but she didn’t believe me, insisting it was a scam.” Just then, the operating room doors opened, and Lillian was wheeled out. My father-in-law rushed forward, his face turning ashen when he saw both of her sleeves hanging limply, empty inside. “What happened to my daughter…? Doctor! Where are her hands?” “My daughter is an artist, she can’t live without her hands, please, you must find a way…” The doctor merely shook his head, saying nothing. Just then, my mother-in-law, arriving late, rushed in. “Lillian, how is she…?” “Where are her hands? Doctor… where are my daughter’s hands?” Seeing her daughter without arms, my mother-in-law, like a madwoman, grabbed the doctor’s hand, shouting and making a scene. I understood their feelings at this moment. Ever since I sold my company and became a stay-at-home dad, Lillian had been their sole financial security. Her paintings were bestsellers, and she was quite famous, the pride and joy of my in-laws. Now that Lillian had lost both her arms, she couldn’t provide for them, becoming a burden instead. How could they not be emotional? “Please calm down. Lillian just finished surgery and needs rest,” I advised. My mother-in-law whirled around, glaring at me with malice. “Lillian is in this state all because she married you, you useless cripple!” My father-in-law chimed in, “You deliberately delayed, causing Lillian to lose her hands. I’m calling the police on you!” “Mom, you can’t just say things like that. When I got the hospital’s call, I immediately went to you.” I calmly pulled out my phone and played three recordings: “Call the Ace…” “Grand Slam!” “I am your daughter’s surgeon…” My father-in-law’s face immediately changed. He turned and glared at my mother-in-law. “You useless cripple, you set me up!” My mother-in-law was furious, grabbing my clothes, ready to hit me. “Mom, you can’t speak against your conscience.” I pushed her away, held up two fingers, and said innocently, “I came to you twice. The first time you said it was a scam. The second time, I personally came to the hospital to confirm, and the doctor even spoke to you, but you still didn’t believe it. Can you blame me?” Two female nurses nearby couldn’t help but interject: “I heard it all. She cared more about her card game than her own daughter’s life.” “That’s absolutely outrageous. What right does she have to blame her son-in-law…?” “To have a mother like that, it’s truly a tragedy!” My mother-in-law, flushed with anger, pointed at them and yelled, “Say one more word, and I’ll rip your mouths off!” “Mom… I’m in so much pain…” Lillian’s weak voice suddenly broke through; she was awake. “My poor daughter…” My mother-in-law held Lillian’s hand, wiping a tear, then pointed at me and began to curse. “It’s all your fault, you useless cripple! You couldn’t provide for her, so my daughter had to drive around to support the family, and that’s why she got into an accident!” I retorted, “You can’t say that. The twenty million dollars I got from selling my company was all in Lillian’s hands; it was more than enough.” “Twenty million, is that a lot? Don’t you understand what it means to live beyond your means?” My mother-in-law scoffed, “My daughter is constantly improving, her reputation growing. A mere twenty million? She could earn that by painting a few more pictures. And you? What do you do besides leech off her?” I said, “When she became a disciple of Master Chen, I arranged it. The five million dollar apprenticeship fee was also paid by me.” “Enough!” Lillian interrupted anxiously. “The accident… How is Adam?” “Who is Adam?” My mother-in-law asked, confused. I quickly explained, “That’s the male best friend she’s always with, her lover. Adam has been with her all these years. The reason for this accident was that Adam made… inappropriate gestures towards her while driving.” “What ‘always with her’? What are you talking about?!” My mother-in-law trembled with rage. I said, “The security cameras captured it, the traffic police told me.” “It’s too loud!” Lillian tried to sit up. “I need to see Adam…” It was then she realized her hands were gone. Lillian froze, then let out a heart-wrenching scream. “My hands… Where are my hands?!” She thrashed her legs like a madwoman, screaming and shouting. My mother-in-law tried to comfort her, but was kicked twice, her face turning red and swollen on one side. “You’re the one who ruined me!” Lillian’s eyes were bloodshot, glaring at me with venom. “It’s him!” My mother-in-law also cursed, “This useless cripple did it on purpose!” I shook my head. “I rushed here as soon as I got the call, but I couldn’t pay for the surgery. I went to Mom to borrow money, but she insisted it was a scam. See, the recording’s right here.” I played the recording from before. “Call the Ace…” “Grand Slam!” “I am your daughter’s surgeon…” Hearing the recording, Lillian’s eyes widened in fury, glaring at her mother with gritted teeth. So consumed by playing cards, she didn’t care about her daughter’s life—it was utterly heartless! If not for her addiction to cards, she wouldn’t have lost her hands! “Oh, my dearest daughter, how could Mom ever harm you…?” Seeing the situation turning, my mother-in-law immediately tried to justify herself. “You gave me the money back then, telling me to keep it from him, that’s why I didn’t give it to him. You can’t blame me entirely!” “This useless cripple didn’t explain the situation clearly either; it’s all his fault!” My mother-in-law dumped the blame squarely on me. “Shut up!” My father-in-law lost his temper, slapping my mother-in-law’s face. He yelled, “Always playing cards and gambling, hurting yourself and others! Our daughter was ruined because of you!” My mother-in-law, slapped, sat on the floor, wailing.

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“Buy one, get the second half price!” the barista chirped, referring to the coffee. My high-strung boyfriend, Robert Vance, and I were debating flavors when the barista suddenly turned snarky: “Only for couples, sweetie. Mistresses aren’t eligible.” Before I could even process it, Robert had already paid for two coffees. He took my hand and led me out. Seeing my frown, he offered a wry, resigned smile. “It’s just five extra bucks, is it really that big a deal?” I was about to argue when his neighbor gasped: “Robert! Your girlfriend’s been home all afternoon, cooking dinner for you… How could you do this to her?” 1 The moment the words left her mouth, Robert’s apartment door swung open from the inside. A fair-skinned, simply dressed woman, clutching a trash bag, met my gaze. She showed no panic. Casually, she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and smiled warmly. “You must be Rachel, right? I’m Cathy.” Then, Cathy shot Robert a playfully chiding look. “You didn’t tell me Rachel was coming to Northwood… Take her inside first. I’ll just take out the trash; I still haven’t made your favorite sweet and sour ribs.” I stared at the scene, feeling utterly bewildered. For a moment, I truly didn’t know who Robert’s girlfriend was supposed to be. I instinctively tugged on Robert’s hand, about to question him. But he let go of my hand. Frowning, his expression grave, he stepped forward and said to Cathy: “Your wrist has been bothering you. Didn’t the doctor say no housework?” Robert didn’t wait for an argument. He took the trash bag from Cathy’s hand and strode into the elevator, leaving me standing there, utterly confused. After a long silence, the neighbor lady offered an awkward laugh. “Oh, so she’s a relative from back home… Heh, I knew it. Cathy, you two are so in love… Robert is such a respectable, upright man, he would never bring a mistress home. My apologies, I misunderstood. I was actually about to defend you.” With that, the neighbor lady hurried off with her groceries into the apartment next door. Cathy made no move to explain. She simply pushed up her glasses, smiled, and opened the door. “It’s quite cold out, come in quickly. You can sit wherever you like for now. I’ll call Robert and tell him to pick up a package at the downstairs post office. Otherwise, he won’t have any soft tissues left.” I stood in the living room, watching Cathy busy herself, clearly acting as the lady of the house. My face set in a cold mask, I spoke: “You know I’m Robert Vance’s girlfriend, right?” 2 Honestly, ever since we were buying coffee, I’d felt a subtle unease. But Robert had remained as aloof and restrained as ever, his expression indifferent, not at all like someone with something to hide. Besides, I didn’t want to cause a public scene. But now, looking at the matching couple’s slippers in Robert’s rental apartment, and the abundance of pink items throughout the room, I couldn’t maintain my composure any longer. “Robert and I have been together for four years, with one year of long-distance. And you, so shamelessly, interjected—” “What are you talking about?” Robert suddenly appeared, cutting me off with a sharp tone. He stood tall and handsome, looking down at me. “Cathy is the ‘study partner’ I told you about, the one I’m preparing for graduate school with. The ‘girlfriend’ story was just a lie we used to fend off unwanted attention for each other. I also benefited from this fake relationship, so how can you be so malicious towards Cathy?” I gripped my palms tightly, trying not to let the tears fall. Cathy offered a helpless smile, gracefully and understandingly diffusing the situation. “Robert, don’t be so harsh on Rachel. She doesn’t know the truth, so it’s natural for her to think that way. Young women, you know, it’s quite normal for them to be a bit emotionally driven in relationships and unconsciously compete. That’s why I told you not to tell her about it. See, she’s upset, isn’t she?” I laughed, a bitter sound. “Aren’t you a woman?” Cathy let out an “Oh?” a flicker of mockery in her eyes. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just, Robert mentioned you went to a regular university and drifted into a typical company right after graduation—” “I just felt that your values aren’t quite the same as ours, you know, those of us who are striving for the top.” She smiled sweetly, offering me a glass of warm water. “Besides, you’re so beautiful and you wear makeup, unlike me, who has no sense of style and only studies. Don’t worry, I’m not interested in marriage; men aren’t part of my life plan. So you don’t need to see me as an imaginary rival.” The glass hung in mid-air. I didn’t take it. After a long moment, the smile on Cathy’s face began to falter. It wasn’t until Robert chuckled, took the glass, and intimately pulled me into his embrace, murmuring tenderly, “There, there, we haven’t seen each other in months, and you’re already a little jealous, huh? The coffee will get cold if you don’t drink it; you can have mine too, okay?” Cathy turned away, a knowing smile on her face, and discreetly entered the kitchen. Robert, meanwhile, slipped his hand under the hem of my white top. “Your favorite six-pack, want to check if it’s up to par?” A firm, warm sensation instantly met my touch. My face flushed. I quickly pulled my hand away, looking up at Robert’s restrained, handsome face. I suddenly remembered that when I first met him, he was as cold as ice to every other woman. Only with me would Robert reveal a different side. He said solemnly, “It’s truly just to ward off unwanted attention, nothing more. We’re long-distance; don’t you have that much trust in me? If you really can’t accept it, then quit that job quickly and come to Northwood to end the long-distance relationship—” “Oh!” I almost forgot the real reason I came to see Robert. I hesitated, “My boss thinks highly of me and plans to—” She planned to transfer me to headquarters, but before I could finish, a scream came from the kitchen. Robert’s expression changed abruptly. “Cathy, what happened?” I watched his tall, broad back as he hurried into the kitchen. Then I looked down at my phone, where my boss’s message read, “What have you decided?” I fell into a contemplative silence. 3 Honestly, the chance to transfer to headquarters was offered to only me and one other male intern from this batch. It was a rare opportunity. But if I transferred, my relationship with Robert would face an even tougher challenge. I couldn’t bear the thought. After all, I had put in a lot of effort to win over this aloof man. As I was agonizing over the decision, my boss sent another message: “I’ll give you three days to think about it.” I sighed in relief, put away my phone, and called out to the kitchen: “What happened? Is everything alright?” 4 I’d heard Robert talk about his “study partner” before. A small-town girl who had only made it this far because of her family’s collective support. Determined, unafraid of hardship or fatigue. So, despite not having a particular fondness for Cathy, seeing her pale and in pain, my heart sank. “Do you need to go to the hospital?” “What else?” Robert’s eyes were cold and merciless. He scooped up the frail Cathy and said indifferently, “Cathy knew you loved sweet and sour pork, so she wanted to make some for you—that’s why she got burned when frying the meat.” “Rachel—” He looked at me, speaking each word distinctly, “Do you know that her dream is to be a doctor? If something happens to Cathy’s hand, then her dream will never be realized.” I stared at Robert in surprise, unable to believe these were words from his usually rational and calm self. “Rachel, I’m so sorry my presence has caused you trouble,” Cathy’s voice trembled, tinged with a cry. “But right now, I need your boyfriend to take me to the hospital. Don’t worry, we only pretend to be a couple in front of outsiders; there’s nothing inappropriate going on. Today is a special circumstance. I never expected the hot oil to splatter when frying the meat… My intention was to…” “It’s not your fault, there’s no need to be so servile.” Robert said, grabbing his phone. “Even if she were a stranger, I’d still take her to the hospital.” He held Cathy in his arms. His face devoid of expression, he looked at me. “Open the door.” I mulled over Robert’s words, feeling a little confused. “It’s not her fault” was implying—was it my fault? 5 After Robert and Cathy left, I stood alone at the door, stunned for a long time. I replied to my boss’s message: “No need to consider. I’m taking the transfer.” When Mrs. Vance called, I was discussing the details with my boss. Her voice was as kind as ever. “Rachel, have you seen Robert?” I mumbled a dull “Mhm,” “Yes, I did.” My heart was heavy with grievances, and for a moment, I didn’t know where to begin. Just as I was about to speak, I heard Mrs. Vance say earnestly: “A few days ago, Robert called me, and he sounded like he had something to say but couldn’t. I knew he had something difficult to talk about. After I pressed him, he finally said he wanted your uncle, Mr. Vance, to pull some strings and get you an introduction to a big company in Northwood…” She sighed, “He sounded quite distressed to me. After all, you’re his first love, and your personalities complement each other so well. Only with you can Robert truly relax and be himself. They’ve been long-distance for so long, I guess he can’t bear it anymore, but he didn’t want to bring it up directly…” My dormant heart instantly rekindled. I nervously confirmed, “Really? I thought—” “Of course! When I said it was no problem, Robert was as happy as could be.” Mrs. Vance was emphatic. “He’s never shown his emotions much since he was a child. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him like that. So, Rachel, when are you going to resign—” I took a deep breath. “Thank you for Mr. and Mrs. Vance’s kindness, but I don’t have plans to resign for now.” I gently cut her off, my voice soft. “I really like this job. My boss values me highly. I can’t give all of this up for Robert. A big company is great, but it might not suit me.” She seemed surprised that I would refuse. After a long silence on the other end, Mrs. Vance gave an awkward laugh. “You pursued Robert for so long; this is a good opportunity… It’s alright, Rachel, just think about it some more…” I wanted to say “no need to think about it,” but I felt Mrs. Vance was well-meaning. I could only slowly hum a “Mhm.” 6 After the call ended, I stood in the empty room and let out a long breath, preparing to leave. But then I noticed a small gift box on the floor—it must have fallen out of Robert’s pocket in his haste. As if possessed, I stopped and picked it up. Inside were two dazzling diamond rings. DR. Only one can be custom-made in a lifetime. And the buyer was Robert Vance. Connecting this with what Mrs. Vance had just said, a wave of guilt washed over me. So Robert had been thinking about our future. And here I was, about to leave in a huff, without even communicating with him. I calmed down, put on a ring, and prepared to call Robert. But his name popped up on my screen first. I answered, eager to speak. “Robert, you dropped something, didn’t you?” “Mhm.” Robert hadn’t expected me to answer so quickly; he sounded a little surprised, then quickly composed himself. “Cathy’s wound has been treated; it’s not serious. She just needs another dressing change in the morning, then she can leave. I’m sorry, I was too rushed just now.” He paused, his voice hoarse. “Do you have time now to help me—” I looked at the sparkling diamond ring on my ring finger, remembering the happy times with Robert. I answered preemptively, “Yes, I do. I can.” Robert sounded much relieved, chuckling, “That’s good. Cathy’s period started early, and her usual feminine pads are in the bathroom cabinet’s hidden compartment. I didn’t want to trouble you, but Cathy’s alone at the hospital, and I can’t leave her. She also has a weak constitution, so she can’t use just any brand—” Cathy’s voice echoed from the other end. Robert tersely sent me a location, then hung up. My smile was still frozen on my face. My hand remained suspended in mid-air. Only the steady beeping of the dial tone remained in my ear, as if to remind me: The dream is over. 7 After much thought: We are all adults. Ending a relationship should be done face-to-face, out of respect for our four years together. Thirty minutes later, I stood in the emergency room. I spotted Robert and Cathy at once. In the chaotic, bustling environment, they alone seemed untouched by time, serene and out of place. As if sensing something, Robert happened to turn his head, and our eyes met. He looked at me, then at the bag in my hand. With a casual, almost languid gesture, like a mythical seducing sprite, he beckoned to me, his voice soft: “Rachel, how can you be so adorable?” Saying this, Robert raised an eyebrow at Cathy and chuckled. “I told you my girlfriend isn’t petty-minded. See?” Cathy’s face soured for a moment. She offered a perfunctory laugh. As she lowered her gaze, a flicker of malevolence flashed in her eyes. Robert didn’t notice. He was only concerned with taking the items from my hand. The next second, he suddenly noticed the diamond ring on my hand. His expression changed dramatically. “Why did you just take someone else’s things?” Before I could react, he coldly slipped the ring off my finger. “Cathy recently got entangled with a senior, so she spent a long time saving up to buy these rings. It was just to make people believe she had a boyfriend and that they were very much in love. It was to ward off unwanted attention—” Robert’s eyes were cold; he seemed to be forcing himself to calm down, lowering his voice. “I know you’re anxious about the progress of our relationship. But you can’t just take other people’s things.” I looked down, seeing my slightly red finger, and felt my eyes well up. No wonder it had been so hard to put on. I thought I had gained weight, but it turned out… Just as the atmosphere grew tense, Adrian Miller, the male colleague I was being transferred with, called on video. On the other end, he laughed openly and uninhibitedly: “Just two more weeks until we leave. Ms. Davies, when will you be back to hand over your work?” … Thud. The things in Robert’s hand fell to the floor. His eyes darkened, and his voice was hoarse: “Hand over work? Rachel, where are you going?”

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Before my sister left the country, she left me with two male succubi. One acted like a saint all day, the other was as sweet-tongued as honey. I poured my heart out, treating them with every kindness. But the moment my sister announced her return, they started b brawling next door, desperate to go back to her side. They even called me a “clingy pest” they couldn’t shake off. My immediate response to my sister? A swift “1.” Aren’t the new, exotic succubi more appealing? Who still cares for these two rejects? 1 The ear-splitting argument from next door had me utterly frozen. My phone screen glowed, displaying a message from my sister, received half a minute ago. “Autumn, haven’t you gotten tired of those two succubi yet?” “Your big sis found a new one for you abroad. Tall, strong stamina. If you want him, reply with a ‘1’.” My mind was a chaotic mess, yet my fingers seemed to have a will of their own, automatically tapping out a ‘1’. The phone rang almost instantly. I fumbled to answer it. On the screen, my sister’s smile was blindingly bright. It was still broad daylight where she was, the sunlight stinging my eyes. Seeing her familiar face, my nose suddenly ached, and tears began to stream down my cheeks. It was only at this moment that I finally understood: the succubi I’d nurtured for so long held no place for me in their hearts. Neither of them did. “Oh, what’s wrong? Who’s been bothering my precious little sister? Is it Lysander or Lyall?” My sister sounded frantic on the other end, practically wishing she could climb through the phone line. I wiped away my tears, a shaky laugh bubbling up. “Sis, their names are Lysander and Lyall.” My sister clearly didn’t care that she’d mixed up their names, her brow furrowed in a tight knot. “Who cares what those things are called, they’re just succubi. Who upset you? Your sister will book a flight back right now to sort them out.” I shook my head, quickly changing the subject, not wanting her to worry. “No one, they’re actually quite good to me. By the way, where’s that new succubus you mentioned?” My sister’s grin was mischievous as she walked to the next room, phone in hand. “My little sis is finally coming out of her shell, huh? I remember you used to be so shy. I was worried you couldn’t handle the two I left you back then.” My face flushed, but my heart was heavy with bitterness. In truth, nothing had happened between us for the first six months after my sister left. They were incredibly well-behaved then, bringing me tea and water every day, like premium housekeepers. It wasn’t until three months ago, when I’d had too much to drink at a friend’s gathering, that Lysander, the older brother, took care of me. Facing that face, too handsome to be human, I truly felt a stir in my heart. Fueled by alcohol, we drew closer. That night, Lysander was exceptionally… attentive. Once a succubus had a taste, they couldn’t stay away. From then on, Lysander was in my room every night. Initially, Lyall, the younger brother, would watch the show from the sidelines, often making me blush intensely. But as he saw Lysander and me growing closer, his expression grew darker by the day. 2 Half a month later, he finally couldn’t hold it in anymore. He climbed into my bed, declaring that there shouldn’t be favoritism. Lyall was even clingier than his brother, confessing his affection multiple times a day, wanting to be glued to me twenty-four-seven. They often squabbled for my attention, and I used to find it rather sweet. I thought we would just continue living like that. Until the day before yesterday, when my sister called, saying she’d be back next week. I immediately heard the sound of a shattering glass in the living room. I looked up to see Lysander frowning as he swept the floor. Lyall had dropped a milk glass, and both their expressions were strangely off. From that evening on, they stopped coming into my room. At the time, I was too excited about my sister’s return to think much of it. It wasn’t until just now, when I vaguely heard arguing from next door. “You’re not even bothering to pretend anymore? Autumn slept alone again today.” Lysander’s voice was as cool and restrained as ever, sounding particularly ascetic. “Aren’t you the same? Sister Leigh is coming back. Of course, I need to wash off that clingy scent, so she doesn’t find me distasteful.” Lyall said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 3 Lysander seemed to be losing his patience. “Why are you in such a hurry? If we both leave, what if she goes crazy and bothers Sister Leigh? You stay here and keep an eye on things. I’ll come get you in a bit.” Lyall exploded. “Brother, you’re truly a hypocrite. If you want to stay, you stay. I’m going back first. If you leave, that annoying clingy girl, Autumn Clarke, definitely won’t let me go.” Their voices grew louder, and finally, they even started to fight physically. I sat on the edge of my bed, my head buzzing, my heart aching as if it were being squeezed. Annoying clingy girl, were they talking about me? The one who had held me so tightly just a few days ago, refusing to let go – was that a ghost? I sat there stunned for a long time until my sister’s video call jiggled again. “Autumn, ready to drool?” “I guarantee you’ll fall for him at first sight.” My sister’s voice pulled me back to reality. She was excitedly knocking on the door next door. Her antics managed to dispel a good deal of my sadness. “Is he really that handsome?” I asked curiously. My sister made a shushing gesture, and the next second, the door opened. She held her phone up, switching the camera. The image blurred for a moment, and then I felt my heart skip a beat. The man on the screen had deep blue eyes and soft-looking brown curly hair. His face was as exquisitely sculpted as a work of art. Even though I’d seen many handsome men, at that moment, I felt a little dizzy. “I paid a fortune to find this one for you. You should be happy to have such a good sister.” My sister smirked like a cunning fox and handed the phone directly to the man. “Hayden Blackwell, this is my sister, Autumn Clarke.” She paused intentionally. “From today, she’s your mistress.” My face instantly flushed crimson, right down to my neck. “Hello.” The man stared at the phone for a few seconds. His voice was incredibly magnetic, instantly reassuring. “Mistress.” I almost bit my tongue, hastily waving my hand. “No, no, no, just call me Autumn.” My sister burst into laughter on the other end. Hayden looked up at her, and I might have been mistaken, but my sister immediately stifled her laughter. She glanced at me guiltily and quietly slipped towards the door. “You two chat, build some rapport. I’ll come back for my phone later.” The man on the screen and I stared at each other, wide-eyed. The atmosphere was a little awkward. Fortunately, Hayden was quite perceptive. Noticing my slight discomfort, he started making conversation. Not only was he handsome, but he spoke with a gentle cadence. His voice, a soft hum in my ears, made my head feel light and fuzzy. I answered whatever he asked. It wasn’t until he chuckled softly that I snapped back to attention. “I asked you what kind of gift you wanted, and you just kept saying ‘mm-hmm’. What does that mean?” My face was hot enough to fry an egg. I’d been so busy staring at his face, I hadn’t heard a word he said. 4 Just then, there was a knock on my bedroom door, and my sister’s voice came through the phone. “Alright, alright, you’ll have plenty of time to chat when I get back. Give me my phone, I want to play games.” Hayden gave me a somewhat helpless wave. “Good night, Autumn.” The knocking outside the door grew more urgent, so I could only hang up and open it. The moment the door swung open, Lysander’s hand, poised to knock again, froze mid-air. Lyall was hunched over, peeking through the door crack, and completely unprepared for my sudden opening. He tumbled face-first onto the floor. Lysander withdrew his hand, his expression calm, but his tone was gentle. “Not asleep yet?” Seeing the bruise on his chin, the last flicker of warmth in my heart died out. My mind replayed their argument from earlier. 5 Seeing my silence, Lyall scrambled up from the floor, his hand reaching for my arm. “Who were you talking to just now? Why was there a man’s voice in the middle of the night?” With that, he tried to snatch my phone. Lyall was incredibly possessive and wild. In the past, he’d scowl if I spoke to a neighbor for too long, sulk all night if I went out for dinner, and constantly check my phone. This time, I didn’t stop him. He snatched it, glanced at the contact name “Sister,” and his tense shoulders finally relaxed. He didn’t click to open the chat, returned the phone to me, his tone still a little guilty. “Oh, so you were talking to Sister Leigh. Why didn’t you say so sooner?” At the mention of my sister’s name, Lysander’s eyes also changed, revealing an undisguised eagerness. “Autumn, did your sister say when she’s coming back?” “Is Sister Leigh getting home next week?” The two succubi spoke in unison, and the air suddenly became incredibly quiet. Watching their impatient expressions, I suddenly found it a little funny. All their previous tenderness had been an act. I had been foolish enough to believe it was true love. The sweet nothings succubi whispered in bed—it turned out not even a single punctuation mark could be trusted. “She’s coming back next week.” I replied calmly. Lyall was younger and couldn’t hide his feelings. His eyes lit up instantly. “So she’ll come straight to your place then…” Lysander quickly pulled him back. Although he was trying to restrain himself, the corners of his mouth still curved upwards. “Alright, we’ll go pick her up together.” Hesitating, he then looked at me and said, “Autumn, you don’t look so good. Are you feeling unwell?” Lysander reached out to touch my forehead, but I sidestepped, shutting the bedroom door. “I’m fine.” I heard Lyall whisper outside the door, “Brother, she wasn’t asleep just now, was she? Did she hear everything we said?” Lysander didn’t reply, just pulled him away. I collapsed onto my bed, letting out a long sigh. I remembered the first time I saw them, at my sister’s estate. My sister was in a hurry to go abroad, and these two succubi, freshly delivered, were to be returned. “I completely forgot I even ordered these two.” Lysander remained silent, but Lyall’s eyes immediately welled up with tears, looking incredibly pitiful. I’d heard that if succubi were returned, they’d be sent for “reconditioning,” a process said to be extremely painful. So when my sister suggested giving them to me, I softened and agreed. My sister was quite surprised then, as my personality had always been rather conservative. But she still warned me, “Succubi are just trinkets for amusement, don’t get too attached. You can make do with these two for now, and I’ll find you better ones later.” I closed my eyes, my mind replaying Lyall’s words, “annoying clingy girl.” Perhaps my sister was right; they truly were just disposable. 6 The next morning, Lysander had already prepared breakfast. Lyall bounced out of his room, card in hand. “Brother, let’s go.” He looked up and saw me, his smile instantly freezing. “Lysander and I are going to buy some new clothes. Do you want to come along?” Lysander tried to smooth things over. I averted my gaze, walking straight to the dining table. “You two go ahead.” Lysander frowned, reaching out again to touch my head. “You seem a little out of sorts today. Are you sick?” I dodged him again, taking a sip of milk. Lysander’s hand hung in the air, but Lyall pulled him away. “Then you eat slowly; we’ll be back soon.” Lysander glanced back at me, his eyes full of confusion. I kept my head down, staring at my cup, ignoring him. I’d made up my mind last night: when my sister returned, I would send them back, exactly as they were. As for what would happen to them afterward, that was their own fate. After all, their service contract was still with my sister. The moment they left, I tossed out all their toothbrushes and towels that were in my room. Just then, Hayden video-called me. Seeing his handsome face, my mood instantly brightened. Indeed, looking at a gorgeous man was the best remedy for a gloomy mood. My sister always called me a shy, quiet girl, but today I chatted with Hayden for over three hours without feeling tired. “Autumn, I bought your favorite candied hawthorn.” Lyall burst through the front door like a cheerful puppy, clutching a bag. “I have something else to attend to, so I’ll hang up now. Your gift has already been shipped.” Hayden’s voice came from the phone, and Lyall’s smile vanished instantly. He rushed over in three strides, reaching out to snatch my phone. “Autumn Clarke! Who are you fooling around with while we’re not home? Why is there a man’s voice in the middle of the night?” I calmly slipped my phone into my pocket, taking the bag of candied hawthorn. Lysander followed, carrying shopping bags, as Lyall glared and complained. “Brother! Autumn Clarke was talking to a man on the phone while we were out, and she wouldn’t let me see!” Lysander was relatively composed, shoving the bags into Lyall’s arms. “It’s good that she has her own social circle.” Lyall paused, looked at the bags in his hands, then at me, as if understanding something. His expression softened slightly. I scoffed inwardly. Lysander was telling his brother that as long as someone else was occupying me, they could naturally make their escape. He was truly overthinking it; I had no intention of stopping them in the first place.

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