Modern Day

“Can I touch your tail?”

Twenty years ago, I used that same pitiful act to lure a snow fox into a cage and sell him to people from a zoo.

Twenty years later, I was on a blind date when a beautiful silver-haired youth sat down beside me, gently linked his arm through mine, and pouted.

“Honey, why are you going on blind dates behind my back?

Don’t you like me anymore?”

A cup of coffee hit me in the face.

The woman opposite knocked her chair aside and stormed out.

“Gay men who trick women into marrying them can go to hell!”

I wiped the coffee off my face and turned to him.

“Who are you?”

The silver-haired youth had already resumed his icy aloofness.

He sneered.

“The Fox King.

Here for revenge.”

A high fever left my sister intellectually disabled.

But she’d been beautiful since she was little.

After I got into university, I sold her first time to my rich roommate, and her second to the student council president.

Both came away looking thoroughly satisfied.

“She’s an idiot, but she’s something else.”

Thanks to those two, I sailed through university and found a way to stay in the big city after graduation.

As for my sister, she couldn’t even speak properly.

Sacrificing herself for me was only right.

Just as I was making a push for an even better position, my parents called.

“Good news.

Your sister’s recovered.”

While my brother discussed the most elegant way to sever an artery, I tended my vegetables.

While my sister sharpened her fangs for the coming feast, I tended my vegetables.

While the whole family prepared to revel beneath the blood moon, I was still tending my vegetables.

I cared so much about growing them well that I converted the cellar into a climate-controlled greenhouse and trained our familiar bats to serve as pollinators.

Mom and Dad took one look at the sea of green filling our grounds.

Exasperated but helpless to change me, they took the rest of the family on vacation so they would not have to see it.

For a long while after that, I enjoyed the idyllic peace of country life.

Then one day, as I was picking pests off my cucumbers, a luxury car screeched to a halt outside the gates.

A wealthy young lady in a lace dress pointed at my castle and shrieked coquettishly to her eight brothers, “Baby wants it turned into a Barbie dream castle!

This is where a princess belongs!”

After being passed over for promotion yet again, Cheng Ying discovers that her secret boyfriend of twelve years, Lu Siming, personally vetoed her while openly favoring another employee.

When he denies their relationship in front of the whole company, she quits, leaves him, and rebuilds her career in Hong Kong.

Two years later, Lu Siming returns as a client, determined to win her back—but Cheng Ying has finally learned that choosing herself means refusing to live in a world where her love must remain hidden.

After breaking up with Zhou Yanxu, Ying Xu steals his family’s treasured white pet snake and takes it home.

Floating comments soon reveal that her new pet is actually Zhou Ci, the Zhou family’s ancient patriarch—a snake god who has waited thousands of years for her.

As Zhou Ci sheds his harmless disguise and coils himself into every corner of her life, Ying Xu begins to uncover a bond that reaches far beyond her disastrous romance.

Their reunion may have begun by accident, but some promises are written into the soul.

My youngest aunt was the most notorious woman in our entire family.

Grandma and Grandpa had worked hard to raise her, put her through school, and even arranged a marriage for her.

Yet she had cut them off and run away from home.

Mom was always telling me, “When you grow up, you must be good to your parents.

Don’t ever turn out like your aunt.”

Back then, nobody could have imagined that I would grow up to be even more ruthless than she was.

My scumbag husband beat me and threw me out of the house.

Then, out of nowhere, I gained the ability to see what things were worth.

With the last ten yuan in my pocket, I bought a piece of junk.

I turned around and sold it for more than ten million.

I was the CEO’s white moonlight, but I had gone dark.

“So you can fly overseas for business, but you can’t come overseas to see me? Is it that you can’t afford a ticket, or that you can’t make the time?”

“You keep saying I’m your white moonlight, then turn around and find a substitute. If your feelings are that cheap, don’t ever tell anyone you liked me.”

“I don’t want a man who’s been tainted. Don’t come looking for me again.”

On a family reality show, superstar Lu Ling was the pampered heiress from Jiangsu, Zhejiang, and Shanghai, and award-winning actress Shen Fan was the Northeast’s eldest daughter.

Unremarkable me?

I was there to make them look good.

My family wasn’t helping.

In the trailer, their elders showered them with money or love.

My grandma kept telling me to quit showbiz.

“Girls should stay home.

They shouldn’t work.”

The internet tore into her.

[Another old relic.]

Then the full episode aired.

What Grandma had actually said was: “Why not just spend my pension?”

“By the time I’m gone, your dad should be retired.

You can spend his next.”

“I’ve been paying your social insurance at the highest contribution level.”

“By the time your parents are both gone, you’ll be collecting your own pension.”

The internet changed its tune instantly.

[People like this terrify me.]

[Don’t they say whatever you fear comes your way?]

The day I decided not to get married, Chen Shuo was at the market buying a bass.

He sent me a photo and asked, “This one’s nine hundred grams.

Too big?

Mum said you liked it steamed.”

I stared at the fish lying in its plastic basket for ten or fifteen seconds, then replied, “Chen Shuo, let’s not register our marriage next week.”

He probably thought I was stressed about the wedding again.

After a while, he replied, “Sure.

We can push it back.

You’ve been busy with your project lately anyway, haven’t you?”

I said, “I don’t mean push it back.”

There was nothing from him for two minutes.

“What do you mean?”

I put my phone facedown on my desk and didn’t answer.

At 4:27 that afternoon, I was sitting in a windowless meeting room with a final account for a construction project worth forty-seven million yuan spread out before me.

The printer kept spitting out paper next door.

The air vent hummed overhead.

My supervisor, Wei, was arguing with the contractor’s people over a hundred and seventy thousand yuan in additional works claims.

Everything was ordinary.

So ordinary it hardly seemed like the afternoon a woman had decided to cancel her wedding.

No one had been caught cheating.

There had been no slap, no other woman, no sudden revelation of anyone’s true colours.

Chen Shuo hadn’t betrayed me.

He was, by most standards, a decent man.

He didn’t smoke, didn’t throw money around, wasn’t violent, and had no interest in going out for what men called “a night with the boys.”

If you drew up a job specification for a suitable husband, he’d score eighty-five out of a hundred.

So everyone asked me, “Then why on earth won’t you marry him?”

That turned out to be the hardest question to answer.

Because when an adult truly wants to leave a relationship, there often isn’t one devastating piece of evidence against the other person.

Just one small bill after another.

And suddenly you realise that, for seven years, every one of those bills has had your name on it.