Complex Family Relationships

My sister was beautiful and brilliant, always effortlessly winning people over.

Compared to her, my plain self was like a timid little mouse.

My parents used to say, “How can you even compare yourself to your sister?”

My childhood friend said, “Jiajia and you don’t look like sisters.”

I asked him, “Then what do we look like instead?”

Sniffling, he replied:

“Like a princess and her maid.”

That was until I met Cen Yi.

My parents were clinging to my sister, introducing her to his family and boasting about how exceptional their daughter was.

I stood off to the side, stealing glances at the cookies on the table.

But he bypassed everyone else and pulled me into a tight embrace.

“Mine,”

he said.

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.

When Nie Feng and I were about to file for divorce, he was in a car accident and lost his memory.

His memory was stuck eight years in the past.

Eight years ago, he loved me the most.

During the first year of our marriage, at my birthday banquet, a songstress appeared wearing a silk dress identical to mine.

My husband’s expression turned ice-cold. “Someone, strip that dress off her.”

He was clearly defending my honor, yet I felt not a single spark of warmth in my heart.

For I knew that he was also the man who had once spent a fortune on that very songstress and made a pact to elope with her.

Everyone says Qi Zheng loves me.

When we were young, girls came and went around him, but as long as I turned around, he was always there behind me.

Later, he reformed for me and kept himself chaste for me. The once unruly and rebellious playboy began to learn how to cook and take care of the household.

On my twenty-sixth birthday, he knelt on one knee before me and produced that ring symbolizing true love.

After a long silence, I said only one thing-

“Qi Zheng, Wen Yi is dead.”

Qi Zheng’s face went pale in an instant. I looked at him calmly. He said, “I never thought you’d still remember her.”

In the third year of my marriage to my childhood sweetheart,

I happened to stumble across an old post he’d written.

In it, he talked about being forced to part from the person he truly loved, and how he had “no choice” but to marry the girl-next-door childhood friend.

And I just so happened to be that childhood friend in his story.

In his tragic little romance, I was the obstacle standing between the male and female leads.

Before we married, my husband had a girl who had spent five years chasing him with everything she had, but he fell for me at first sight.

Three years later, that girl returned to the country, successful and famous. She was now an internationally renowned photographer, dazzling and breathtakingly beautiful.

As for me, I was a stay-at-home mom, weighing over 130 pounds, with nothing to show for myself.

At a gathering, someone teased Lu Huaixu.

“Qin Shuang is still a virgin for your sake…”

He snapped at the person immediately, “Don’t talk nonsense!”

But that night.

He stayed out on the balcony, smoking for the entire night.

I’ve read so many novels about the “crematorium” trope-where the husband has to crawl back and beg for forgiveness-but I never expected to find myself starring in one.

Except there’s no chasing, only the crematorium.

Because I’m actually dead.

I’ve become a ghost, watching the man who betrayed me. Seven days after my death, he finally seems crushed by a delayed sense of grief. In the home I can never return to, he howls in agony, acting as if life is no longer worth living.

You want to know how I feel?

I just stand there blankly, carefully admiring every inch of pain etched onto his face.

I listen intently to his desperate wails, triggered by my departure.

Beyond the desolation and heartache in my soul, a massive wave of schadenfreude suddenly wells up within me.

A joyful, blissful sense of schadenfreude.

It’s a sensation so sharp it borders on thrill. I cover my mouth and begin to laugh.

I finally plucked up the courage to drug my brother.

Unexpectedly, I wasn’t very tired that night, but I ended up falling into a deep sleep myself and didn’t wake up until dawn the next day.

The second time.

I mustered my courage and tried to drug him again.

Once more, I slept like a log until morning.

When I woke up, my brother was in the kitchen cooking.

The bright morning sun shone on him, making his hair appear almost pale gold.

Hearing me move, he turned around and flashed me a smile.

He looked like an angel descending from heaven.

“Zhiyu.”

“I made your favorite pumpkin pancakes.”

Clutching my aching conscience, I drugged him for the third time that night.

And once again, I enjoyed the sleep of a baby.

-I finally began to suspect my brother.

Chapter 0

I am the most low-maintenance Canary in the Shanghai Circle’s elite social scene.

On the surface, I have no interest in causing trouble; in reality, I am single-mindedly focused on making money.

Everything the Big Boss gives me, I liquidate.

Stocks, bonds, and physical investments-I let the money breed more money, compounding the interest.

I secretly invested in his rival’s company and even took the opportunity to acquire shares in the Big Boss’s own firm.

On the day the truth finally came out, the Big Boss looked at my thick stack of asset reports and let out a cold laugh.

“Other Canaries want to climb the social ladder and take a seat at the table,” he said. “You, on the other hand, want to usurp the throne.”