Psychological

My ex, the Film Emperor, publicly called me a resource hunter on a show.

When the whole internet told me to get out of the entertainment industry, I awakened the Acting System.

Ding! Skill acquired: [Murderer]: You will master all knowledge and abilities related to murder.

Me: What kind of hellish System is this?

Later, the villainess I played was selected for the Acting Hall of Fame Textbook, and when I received the award, the audience was filled with people from Criminal Investigation (Investigation Unit), forensic experts, and prosecutors.

Netizens: Someone should investigate her-this doesn’t look like acting!

Before she died, my closest friend gave me two things.

A piece of skin she had cut from her own body, and her lover.

She asked me to use that skin to make a shadow puppet for the opera…

I think I understood what she meant. She was telling me: Ah Mei, I’m giving you a generous gift. You should return the favor-kill someone for me.

I have died seven times.

Every single time, I died on the day my husband asked for a divorce.

He doesn’t love me. Seven years of marriage proved to be fragile and worthless the moment his White Moonlight returned to the country.

The System told me that if I wanted to live, I had to defeat the White Moonlight.

Miscarriages, acting as a body double, framing her… my methods became increasingly ruthless.

However, just as I finally approached the finish line-when my Marriage Reconciliation Success Rate reached 99.99%-

I was the one who handed over the Divorce Agreement.

The moment our daughter was born, my husband immediately named her Xingyue.

He looked at me gently and said, “From now on, you and Xingyue are my most precious treasures in this world.”

I was so touched-until one day, I discovered something.

His ex-girlfriend’s name was also Xingyue.

My sister has a Koi Birthmark on her face.

After receiving her blessing, my father won five million in the lottery, and my mother regained a stunning, slender figure.

I was the only one who wanted nothing from her.

Because I knew that what was on my sister’s face was a Black Koi.

Whatever you take from her, you must pay back double.

My virginity was sold by my family to a seventy-year-old tycoon for the steep price of one million yuan.

The price was fair, all things considered. After all, I wasn’t just selling my virtue; I was selling my life.

On our wedding night, the old man squeezed my throat and asked, “Do you have any final wishes?”

To stay alive, I told him three stories.

And then, I made a prophecy.

“You will die within my third story.”

After my husband cheated on me, I jumped. I threw myself off the twenty-eighth floor.

The wind howled past my ears as I closed my eyes. I had already done the math. Each floor in our complex was three meters high, making the twenty-eighth floor eighty-one meters up. From the moment I leaped until I hit the ground, I would have roughly four seconds.

Minutes earlier, my final conversation with Bai Yan had ended in disaster. I had screamed and ranted hysterically; I had begged and pleaded like a dog wagging its tail for scraps; I had even cursed him with the most vicious words and venomous language in existence. By the final moment, both of us were utterly drained. I sat on the edge of the balcony with my eyes rimmed red and my legs dangling in the air, asking him weakly, “Are you really set on this divorce?”

He looked at me calmly. The first time I had threatened suicide, he had been frantic with panic, but now his face held nothing but exhaustion. He asked me, “Are you quite finished making a scene?”

I said quietly, “If you leave today, I’m jumping.”

He gave me one long, deep look before turning to walk away. The door slammed shut with a deafening bang, and then I heard the sound of him waiting for the elevator.

At 3:00 AM, an official emergency alert jolted you awake. The message read: “Do not look up at the moon.”

At the same time, you discovered that your phone had received hundreds of messages from unknown numbers: “The night is so beautiful. Look out the window.”

Over the weekend, while I was out grocery shopping, someone shoved a red envelope into my hand.

Inside was a note: [Three years of your life have been borrowed. If you pass this on or drop it in a merit box, your entire family will perish.]

Clutching the 900 yuan, I chuckled and chased after the person.

“Are you sure you want to try life‑borrowing from me?”

She shot me a glare, barked “Psychopath!” and spun around to bolt.

I couldn’t help but smile. To think someone actually had the nerve to try life‑borrowing from one of the Living Dead.

On the first day after I died, my boyfriend brought his first love back home.

They kissed passionately on the sofa I bought, acting as if no one else were there. They ate the celery dumplings I had made by hand and played with the gaming console I had given him.

One day, his first love asked curiously, “Where’s An’an?”

My boyfriend’s voice was calm. “We had a fight a few days ago. She applied for a business trip with her company.”

Oh, he still doesn’t know that I’m dead.