Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Later in life, I learned the hard way what it means for a fallen phoenix to be worth less than a chicken.

While I was wandering the streets with an empty stomach, Xue Chang was at the peak of his career and his love life.

The convenience store television was broadcasting news about him, reporting how he had escorted a female companion to a charity auction and spent a fortune on a gemstone just to make her smile.

At that time, I was crouching in a corner with an expired loaf of bread a kind clerk had given me, stuffing it into my mouth while tears and snot streamed down my face.

Having been pampered and held in the palm of everyone’s hand since childhood, I had never tasted such bitterness.

Staring at the TV, I swore a resentful oath in my heart: those who had wronged me would pay the price sooner or later!

But my grand words were quickly ground down by harsh reality.

Powerless, connectionless, and incompetent, I couldn’t even pluck a single hair from Xue Chang’s leg.

I struggled even with basic survival.

I couldn’t beat him, let alone take revenge.

That was true then, and it’s true now.

Xiao Bao had wet himself again, lying on the bed with his mouth wide open, wailing.

Being a single mother is truly difficult.

After I finished changing his diaper, he continued to cry abnormally and incessantly. I held him and tried to soothe him, frantic and exhausted, but nothing worked.

His little face turned bright red, and his voice grew hoarse from screaming with all his might.

While I was at my wits’ end, I received a call from my landlord. He told me hesitantly over the phone that he planned to sell the house; he offered to compensate me if I moved out as soon as possible.

My heart went cold, but I didn’t have the energy to argue with him.

After hanging up, I realized there was a text message from an unknown number: “Keep to our own business? I refuse.”

That brain-dead Xue Chang had sent his signal of attack.

I reflexively and skillfully blocked the number, grabbed all our belongings and identification, and rushed out to the hospital with Baobao.

It turned out to be infant gas and colic. After the doctor treated him, he slowly calmed down in my arms, sucking on his finger.

Even as he drifted off to sleep, he continued to sob intermittently.

The emergency room late at night was cold and deserted.

Baobao had finally fallen asleep, and though my arms were numb from holding him, I didn’t dare move an inch.

Looking at his sleeping face, I leaned down and gently rested my forehead against his small head.

My eyes stung and swelled. Only at this moment did I dare let my emotions pour out slightly.

A figure stood silently before me.

I took a deep breath, forcing the tears back. “Can you stop sticking to me like a piece of dog-skin plaster?”