Complex Family Relationships

My wife and I were a couple of influencers with over a million followers.

After she passed away, the account stopped updating.

Until one day, a stranger sent me a private message.

“I look a lot like her.

“I can be her double.”

It was the fourth year of my relationship with Fu Jingsen.

He had grown tired of my dullness and lack of change.

A young, trendy girl had successfully seduced him, leaving him infatuated.

Yet, he told his friends,

“It’s just a little fling to try something new.”

“When it comes to marriage, of course, you still choose a Good Girl like Shen Ci.”

With the wedding fast approaching, everyone urged me to consider the bigger picture.

However, Chen Xu, the most notorious playboy in our social circle, stopped me. “Hey, Good Girl, do you dare to be rebellious for once?”

At the wedding three days later, Fu Jingsen stared at the hickey on the side of my neck. He was so furious that he couldn’t even hold his bouquet steady.

I gave him a faint smile.

“Just trying something fresh. Why are you so angry?”

“Only after trying it did I realize how boring you actually are. You don’t have nearly as many tricks as he does.”

During my years dominating Gangcheng, I’ve kept quite a few men on the side.

They all knew the rules of Miss Qi.

I only have one husband, and no matter how much they acted out, they were never to cause trouble in front of my legal spouse, Gu Yi’an.

But one of them just had to have a death wish.

He tracked down my home and staged a confrontation with Gu Yi’an, demanding he step down.

“You’re already past your prime. Why are you still clinging to this position?”

“She told me herself-the one she loves most is me.”

I broke things off immediately: “You crossed the line.”

The young man, looking like a wounded puppy, felt his eyes well up with tears.

“I didn’t do anything wrong! Love means a desire for exclusivity. Those other guys could tolerate this because none of them loved you enough!”

I gazed at his heartbroken yet stubborn eyes, my mind drifting for a moment.

…He was so similar.

Out of everyone, he was the one who resembled my brother the most.

It has been ten years since I died.

After a decade, I have finally seen the first person to come and pay their respects at my grave.

It is a man, limping as he walks toward me.

It is my father.

The day Fu Chengbi broke up with me, I got into a car accident.

I didn’t die.

The one who died was the personality inside me that loved him.

My five-year unrequited love has come to an end.

It ended because Shen Chen’s “white moonlight,” Su Yue, has returned.

Half a month ago, on the first day of autumn, I made some stewed pear soup to bring to Shen Chen.

Shen Chen smokes constantly and never listens when I tell him to stop, so I’ve made it a habit to prepare stewed pears with fritillary bulbs for him whenever the seasons change.

When I arrived, Shen Chen opened the door shirtless.

As the door swung wide, the air in the room smelled thick and suggestive. The scent of body wash clinging to him was the very one we had bought together.

I looked down and immediately spotted a pair of round-toed, mid-heel shoes. They were cute, yet they felt like an eyesore.

“Who is it?” a sweet, cloying female voice called out from the bedroom.

Shen Chen took the pear soup from my hands. His eyes were filled with guilt, but he prioritized his options in an instant.

“It’s just delivery.”

Everyone says my Little Aunt climbed her way to the top using her body.

They claim she used the excuse of caring for me to sneak into my husband’s room every night.

People curse her for being shameless, accusing her of defiling even her own niece’s husband.

But she simply handed me a piece of candy and said, “Yingying, in this life, we will survive together.”

When I first started dating Xie Mingchen, he had absolutely nothing to his name.

My friends all told me not to be a fool. They said that with my looks and background, I could find any wealthy man I wanted; there was no need to suffer alongside him.

Now that he’s become the high-flying President Xie, a darling of the venture capital world, those same people say I only won out because I made my move early.

They claim that with his current status, surrounded by women of every shape and beauty, I wouldn’t even stand a chance otherwise.

Even my mother has switched sides. She keeps telling me to lower my guard and learn how to act vulnerable. She warns me not to spend all these years with him only to end up with nothing.

I couldn’t help but snap back, “If he doesn’t bring up marriage, am I supposed to beg him for it?”

“That stubborn streak of yours is going to be your downfall!” My mother sighed, frustrated by my lack of initiative. “What else are you going to do if you don’t play along? Are you really going to let someone else enjoy the shade of the tree you planted yourself?”

I didn’t want to argue; I just felt wronged.

Why was it that in this long-drawn-out relationship, I was the one who did the hoping and the one who felt the disappointment? And now, I was still the one expected to drop hints and nudge him into finally taking action.

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.

When I was five years old, my mother and I died in a car accident.

The people who orchestrated the accident were my father and my mother’s best friend.

After receiving two insurance payouts, they got married and lived happily together as a family.

Occasionally, That Woman would get scared: “The mother and daughter who died-won’t they turn into Vengeful Ghosts and come back to take revenge on me?”

My father would laugh at her for being superstitious.

But they didn’t know-I wasn’t dead.

And the me who returned alive for revenge would be far more terrifying than any Vengeful Ghost.