Slice of Life

During my first year of graduate school, I hailed a ride and ended up in a Maybach.

That was when I met a man.

And from that moment on, the trajectory of my life was changed forever.

After winning the lottery, the first thing I did was dump my sugar daddy.

Then, I turned around and sponsored the broke, handsome guy I’d had my eye on for ages, all while sending a three-hundred-point manifesto to my ex-benefactor, tearing him to shreds.

With money in my pocket and my pride restored, I was walking on air.

That is, until I decided to flaunt my new boy toy right in front of my former sugar daddy.

My handsome new man looked at him and said, “Hey, Bro.” Me: ?

My husband thinks I’m one of those women who bleed their husbands dry for their brothers and sisters. What he doesn’t know is that my “eldest brother” is actually the son I gave birth to at nineteen, my “second brother” is the son I gave birth to at twenty-five, and my “little sister” is the daughter I gave birth to at twenty-eight.

My Eldest Senior Sister was a brilliant talent, yet she died young, a victim of schemes and conspiracies.

My Little Junior Sister was charming and lovely, yet she died after being possessed by a Demon Creature and suffering endless torment.

Then there was me-the plain, unremarkable Second Senior Sister of the Sect. I never drew any attention, but I lived long enough.

Eventually, I became the Sect Ancestor, taking on countless disciples. I finally passed away peacefully of old age, surrounded by the weeping of my many students and their successors.

When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to my youth.

At that time, Eldest Senior Sister was already the Prodigy everyone looked up to, and Little Junior Sister had just joined the Sect.

The two of them hadn’t yet become bitter rivals over a man; they were still sisters who loved and cared for one another.

Looking at the two of them in their prime, I made a firm resolution:

I still need to keep my head down. As long as I lay low and survive long enough, the Magical Artifacts and immortal elixirs will all be mine eventually.

However, this time around, both Eldest Senior Sister and Little Junior Sister took a liking to visiting my place.

Eldest Senior Sister once asked me with a heavy heart,

“Second Junior Sister, he always says that Little Junior Sister is better than me. I know it’s not her fault, but I still feel a spark of jealousy. Am I truly that terrible?”

I replied, “Eldest Senior Sister, one thought leads to divinity, another to the demonic. Has he caused a heart demon to take root in you?”

Eldest Senior Sister’s expression turned solemn, and she cupped her hands toward me in respect.

“Thank you, Junior Sister. I have learned much from your words.”

She turned around and immediately broke off her engagement with her Fiancé.

Little Junior Sister also came to me to complain, looking lost.

“The Senior Brothers have all given me so many things. Sometimes I really can’t use them all, but I’m afraid of offending people, so I rotate through them every day. It’s much better here with you, Senior Sister; it’s always so peaceful. But don’t you find it a bit lonely?”

I hummed in agreement and gave a gentle answer.

“I don’t like letting too many people into my life. I think things are perfect just as they are.”

Little Junior Sister dithered for a moment, her eyes shimmering with envy.

Later on, she started becoming someone not to be trifled with, systematically removing a great many people from her life.

Ironically, those people were the ones who refused to let go.

On the day we got divorced, Song Zhiyuan and I nearly came to blows right there in the Civil Affairs Bureau. When the clerk asked for the reason behind the split, he had the audacity to claim he had seven girlfriends on the side. I laughed out of sheer frustration. Seven girlfriends? So you really don’t get a single day off all week, huh? I shot him a sideways glare. “Working seven days a week without a break-can your body even handle that?” Song Zhiyuan sneered. “You’re not my wife anymore. It’s none of your business whether I can handle it or not.” Beside us, the clerk actually gave him a thumbs-up. “A real man. Impressive!”

I’m a rookie Ghost Agent for the Netherworld.

To crush my KPIs and earn a promotion, I started staking out my targets three days before their scheduled deaths.

My first subject was an elderly woman.

Out of nowhere, she turned to me and asked, “Am I about to die?”

My Miss is a traditional lady of the old school; the rules are etched into her very bones.

On their wedding night, the Chen Family Young Master, disdainful that she wasn’t a “modern woman,” didn’t even lift her bridal veil before climbing over the wall and running away.

Her parents-in-law, fearing she might do something drastic, sent people to stand guard outside her door all night.

But the next morning…

Miss appeared properly dressed and groomed, kneeling respectfully to serve tea to her parents-in-law. “Since I have entered the gates of the Chen Family, it is only right that I serve my elders.”

Three years later.

The Chen Family Young Master returned, bringing with him a woman dressed in a Western-style skirt and high heels.

Standing side-by-side in the center of the main hall, they declared that arranged marriages were a relic of the old feudal system and demanded a divorce from Miss.

In the silence that filled the hall, no one could bear to look at Miss’s face.

Only I saw-

As Miss lowered her gaze…

Very slowly, ever so slowly…

The corners of her lips curled into a faint smile.

To win Jiang Bai over, I, a spoiled little princess with a monthly allowance of hundreds of thousands, spent three whole years pretending to be dirt poor.

All just so I could mooch meals and drinks off him.

But now his “white moonlight” has suddenly returned, and she even had the nerve to mock me for being a broke loser.

Fine! Great! You want to see who’s richer?

I’m done pretending!

I am a Bone Demon, trapped for countless years within that cold, desolate graveyard.

No one can see me, and no one can hear me. I have spent centuries in solitary silence.

Until one midsummer, when the sun was shining just right.

A young girl came to sweep the graves, but she mistakenly offered her tributes to me.

I took a bite of a crisp peach and said, “Truly sweet.”

She froze for a moment, then covered her mouth and stifled a giggle.

“Next year, I’ll come again.”

True to her word, she returned year after year, bringing me crisp peaches every time.

Later, she died, and her remains were carelessly tossed into the graveyard.

Her five-year-old daughter, clutching the hand of a younger brother who had only just learned to walk, came to the graveyard day and night to wail for their mother.

I couldn’t stand the noise.

I possessed her body, crawled out from the straw mat, and clumsily gathered those two little brats into my arms.

“Keep crying, and Mother will eat you.”

On the day the divorce was finalized, I booked a high-speed rail ticket back to my hometown. A phone, an ID card, and a bank card with a meager balance were all I had left.

When the butler called to say the young master was crying for his mother, I finally understood that the son I had borne and his father loved the same woman.

Before the train left, I made one last promise: I would never disturb him again.