Psychological

Go, Yaya!

After Mom died, I began using the same manipulative tactics that the mistress once used to frame her, turning them against my father.

I watched as he was torn apart by public outcry. I watched him struggle to find words, his voice failing him. I watched as his eyes widened in shock, as if he no longer recognized me.

My heart felt heavy, yet I felt a surge of vindication. He doesn’t realize that without Mom, the Female Lead, his own halo as the Male Lead will eventually fade away.

We are both about to enter the world of ordinary people, a world full of stumbles and hardships.

Grandma

Do you know what it feels like to be diagnosed with a terminal illness at such a young age?

Gray

After we made love that night, I drifted off to sleep.

My husband, who never liked saying sweet words, suddenly said: “Honey, I love you.”

I opened my eyes.

That tone was all too familiar.

It was exactly the tone he used when he’d done something guilty.

Guan Yin Face

When I returned from recuperating at the country estate, there was already a new young lady in the household.

My elder brother protected her like she was a precious pearl.

My little sister had been bullied by her until she fell gravely ill.

With a bleak, bitter smile, she said, “Sister, let’s just accept our fate. Either way, we can’t fight her.”

No sooner had she finished speaking than a pretty, charming girl came out on my brother’s arm, the pearl-studded uppers of her shoes gleaming brightly.

“So you’re Second Sister?”

How beautiful. If only the fabric weren’t from the love-token handkerchief I had embroidered for my fiancé.

Seeing this, my brother immediately took her side. He said to me, “Yaoyao is spoiled, but she means no harm. Rongshu, let her have her way.”

Then he turned back and chided her in feigned anger, “Don’t make trouble.”

The girl didn’t take it seriously at all. Instead, she stuck out her tongue.

“It’s just a handkerchief. Brother Jingwen said it only looks beautiful when worn on my feet. Sister wouldn’t be angry over this, would she? How petty.”

I was indeed petty. So I raised the knife and brought it down.

The tip of her tongue landed on her shoe.

Guo Guo

I was born only five minutes before my little sister.

Yet she was prettier than me, fairer than me, smarter than me.

The only thing I had ever beaten her at was being healthy.

I could roll around in the mud throwing a tantrum and still not get sick.

My sister, though, was allergic to pollen in spring, mosquito bites in summer, and cold air in autumn and winter.

When I was nine, all I did was pet a stray cat.

My sister said she felt so awful she could not breathe.

That day, Mom beat me half to death.

With red-rimmed eyes, she asked me, “Were you trying to kill your sister?”

“If she dies, you’ll be the only child in this family!”

So later, Mom sent me to live in a nursing home.

She said it very seriously: “This way, your sister will be the only child in the family.”

Half a Life of Misplaced Love

After my divorce, I married the woman I had cheated with.

She was gentle and considerate, the kind of woman who always knew how to make me feel valued.

Her only drawback was that she came with a son.

But that was all right.

I had promised to love her, and I would love her child too.

As for my ex-wife, apart from the three thousand yuan I sent in child support every month, we had nothing more to do with each other.

Until the day I saw a hanging chair at a friend’s house—a chair that had once belonged to me.

Hate You, Save You

Zhou Ci and I were also a pair of resentful lovers, exchanging harsh words and blows, finally threatening, “Whoever doesn’t get divorced is a dog.”

On the way to the divorce, we cursed each other with the most venomous words we could muster.

But when the oil tanker crashed towards us, he jerked the steering wheel, using his side to take the impact.

He let me live 0.01 seconds longer.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the summer at the end of my second year of high school.

Zhou Ciye was holding a bouquet of flowers, asking if I would accept it.

The next second, his listless face lifted, full of gloom.

The moment our eyes met, I knew he had come back too.

Hating the Bright Moon

I was born cold-blooded.

When my mother died, I stood by her bedside without shedding a single tear.

In the front courtyard, lanterns and streamers were being hung to celebrate my father’s concubine’s birthday.

“Yuntan,” my mother said, “you are just like your father.”

A dying person always carries a certain air of decay.

She stared up at the canopy of her bed and sighed again.

“It is better to be like him… the heartless… always live longer…”

“Do not be like me, trapped in the word ‘love’ for a lifetime. It was a mistake…”

My mother was a loser her entire life.

I never expected that years later, the most reputable and upright gentleman in the capital, Xie Yijue, the Heir to Duke Zhenguo, would come to my door to ask for my hand in marriage.

He had one condition: He wanted to take my younger half-sister, Ji Zhi, into his household alongside me.

He and His White Moonlight

The day my interview results came out, I came across a post: “How lethal can a white moonlight really be?”

The top-voted answer had only been posted a little while ago.

“I’ll tell my own story. He had a crush on me in high school, and we ran into each other a few days ago while I was job hunting.”

“Even if I’m not as capable as the others, he’ll still make me the one-in-ten-thousand choice.”

Attached was a graduation photo of them at eighteen.

The girl wore a white dress, her slim back quiet and well-behaved.

The boy had his head turned, looking at her intently, his profile clean and… familiar.

My phone trembled faintly. It was the message rejecting me after the interview.

Only then did I understand. She was Xie Qingyue’s white moonlight-and what she had killed was my future.

I would rather be a tree waiting for spring than a bird that turns back.

I could allow my feelings to fall apart completely.

But my future, my freedom, my life-none of them could afford the slightest mistake.

He and the Time Machine

I was never smart, but the neighbor’s son was a once-in-a-century genius.

I spent day after day hunched over my desk doing practice problems before I finally got into a Project 985 university. He skipped class and dated the prettiest girl in school, yet the top universities fought over him.

I practically lived in the library, studying from morning to night, only to miss out on a guaranteed graduate school spot by one rank. He flipped through his books right before the exam and easily took first place in the entire department.

Whenever my parents scolded me, they would twist my ear and say, “Look at Little Lin! You’re both human, so how are you so much stupider than him?”

I spent the first half of my life living in his shadow. The moment I graduated, I couldn’t wait to leave home and run away from it all.

For three whole years, no matter how hysterical my parents got over the phone, I never went back.

On New Year’s Eve of the fourth year, I was carrying shopping bags back to my rented apartment when I saw him at the door.

His thin frame leaned against the wall, and he asked softly,

“Why won’t you go home?”

I didn’t answer.

The light in his eyes dimmed. Then he said, “Come back. Your parents miss you so much… and so do I.”