Psychological

Mom had a Leather Handbook that recorded every woman Dad kept on the side.

One of them, Aunt Wei, was marked in particular.

In Mom’s delicate handwriting, she had written: This is the little toy I’m leaving you. Enjoy this life to your heart’s content, my daughter.

After Mom died, that woman buzzed into my life like a fly.

And I swatted her straight down into hell.

After my sister passed away, Jiang Huaizhou treated me like her substitute.

He married me, yet he despised me.

Outside our marriage, he kept one lover after another.

He even mocked me, saying, “Even with Weiwei dead, you will never compare to her.”

He belittled me until I was worth less than nothing.

But then I remembered that there had once been someone who said to me:

“Yinyin, no one else matters. You matter most.”

My boyfriend had depression.

Medication and sessions with specialists cost over ten thousand a month.

To help him get better, I took on art commissions and delivered takeout day and night. Even my friends warned me to be careful before I worked myself to death.

Then one day, I managed to grab an errand order from a wealthy villa district.

The high-end Japanese takeout was worth eighteen thousand. I held it with both hands and handed it to the customer with the utmost respect.

But when I lifted my eyes, I saw my boyfriend-who should have been in therapy-standing in the doorway, staring at me in utter shock.

On the day my boyfriend and I got our marriage license, the lottery ticket I bought won fifty million.

Double happiness had come knocking.

Who could have known that very night, he would brutally murder me?

As I lay dying, I heard him call another woman, practically giddy with excitement.

“Baby, we’re rich! Get over here and help me cut up the body.”

“Can you believe she actually asked me before she died if I’d ever loved her? Of course I loved her. Loved using her as an ATM and a fuck buddy, hahaha.”

I died. My body was dumped into a pit latrine and a garbage dump, left to be gnawed on by maggots, mosquitoes, and flies.

When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn on the day I won the lottery and got my marriage license.

My boyfriend was opening the door. He looked back and smiled at me. “Honey, tonight is going to be very exciting. Are you ready?”

Under the short video I posted, a girl tagged her boyfriend to come watch.

“Everyone move, my husband likes this kind of thing. Let him see it first!”

I tapped into her profile picture and froze.

She was the girl who had bullied me in high school.

I would know that face even if it were reduced to ashes.

I didn’t sleep all night. I went through every video she’d ever posted, then tapped on the boyfriend she’d tagged.

I sent him a private message.

“Are you there?”

I went on a celebrity dating reality show, and the host asked me which male guest I would pick.

Smiling, I looked toward the acclaimed Best Actor, the veteran singer, and the current young idol heartthrob.

“Among these guests is a serial killer. Three years ago, you dismembered my little sister.

You left no remains of her behind and turned her into a target for the internet’s scorn.

“Now, it’s my turn to hunt you down.”

When I walked in, the young nanny was debating the literary achievements of the Eight Great Masters of the Tang and Song with my fiancé.

She got so worked up that she raised her hand and thumped him on the chest.

“You’re the one who’s wrong!”

The man was silent for two seconds before a low laugh slipped out.

“Mm. I’m wrong. You’re right.”

I stood behind them, looking down at the custom wedding invitation in my hand, suddenly at a loss. Because honestly…

I really did like this design.

In the fifth year of our marriage, I got pregnant, and Fu Chi wept with joy.

Everyone said I was lucky, that I had married an up-and-coming tycoon like Fu Chi.

But no one ever mentioned the actress he was keeping on the side.

It was as if everyone had forgotten that I, too, was the girl he had confessed to at seventeen, his eyes red-rimmed with emotion.

Behind his back, one of his friends warned him, “You’re being such a bastard. Aren’t you afraid Xu Man will divorce you?”

Fu Chi had nothing to fear. He only gave a lazy smile and said, “She won’t.”

Later, without making a scene or saying a word, I aborted the child.

When the news got out, Fu Chi flew back from London overnight.

In the third year after I married Zhao Yan, he made me Empress.

On one condition: I was not to lay a finger on the Imperial Noble Consort he held so dearly in his heart.

He seemed to have forgotten that I was his lawful wife first.

The noble consort who had been cherished all her life said on her deathbed that she regretted everything.

“If there is a next life, I would gladly trade places with you. I would be a lowly palace maid, endure until I turned twenty-five, then leave the palace and be free.”

“The emperor’s favor, all this hollow wealth and splendor – whoever wants it can have it.”

Tears ran down her face as she said that all she wanted was a love that was pure and true.

Just before she closed her eyes, she clutched my hand.

“Cherry, will you do it? Will you trade places with me?”

Weeping, I pressed my lips to her ear.

“This servant is willing.”

I had spent a lifetime cleaning up her messes.

I was so tired.