In her past life, Fang Rulian was a genuine scoundrel, while Fang Zhiyi was the quintessential “good sister.” It was for this very reason that Zhiyi had been coerced and enticed by her for so many years, becoming stained with filth through no fault of her own.
For a scoundrel reborn, turning over a new leaf is no easy feat.
The window was open, and a refreshing breeze blew in. The sweat on Fang Rulian’s forehead cooled rapidly, feeling like a layer of cold, damp plastic wrap clinging to her skin.
Seeing her dazed, Fang Hong felt a pang of worry, remembering the events of the previous night. She reached out and pressed her palm against Rulian’s forehead.
Fang Rulian flinched instinctively at the touch, but seeing it was Fang Hong, she let out a breath of relief.
“Why are you sweating so much?” Fang Hong frowned, brushing away the stray hairs plastered to her forehead. “Did you have a nightmare?”
The image of Fang Zhiyi’s red, pleading eyes flashed before Fang Rulian’s vision. She turned her face away, lowering her head to hide her expression, her voice raspy. “I just had a dream.”
Aside from the moment the dream shattered as the door opened at the end, Fang Rulian couldn’t bring herself to call it a nightmare.
She confessed—even in that illusory dream, the excitement and pleasure of kissing Fang Zhiyi far outweighed the pain. Or rather, she felt no pain at all, only a boiling, dizzying euphoria.
She had drowned in the shadows of the past, back when she took smug pride in being able to imprison Fang Zhiyi in her arms and kiss her wantonly.
She remembered it clearly. Fang Zhiyi was a sophomore then. The cold wind howled outside, and the streets were bustling. Behind heavy curtains, she had kissed Zhiyi until the girl was nearly senseless.
She had pulled her onto the bed and left the lights on. She studied Zhiyi’s flushed face with meticulous intensity, shamelessly pinching her chin and whispering despicable, filthy things.
Just like in the dream, sounds had indeed come from the entrance. Fang Hong and Mu Yunshu had returned unexpectedly. Fang Zhiyi trembled violently in her arms, begging her, piteously calling her “Sister,” her moist eyes darting repeatedly toward the bedroom door.
Fang Rulian had locked the door, but she was acting like a beast. She didn’t say a word; she ignored Zhiyi’s terror and continued her assault. Outside the door, footsteps approached and receded, then approached again.
Separated only by a door, Fang Rulian had bullied her sister through and through.
It was truly unscrupulous.
Not just that specific act, but the fact that she had never once considered their family before acting.
She had received too much fulfillment from this happy home. Her brief professional success and the spotlight shining from all directions made her take everything for granted. Thus, when greed took root, she didn’t find it strange—she felt she was born to have it all, including… the person she should never have touched.
She was the most selfish, most conceited person in the world.
Those who betray a sincere heart must swallow ten thousand needles.
Before her death, as the freezing seawater filled her lungs and she sank into the chaos, the revolving lantern of her life lit up. Countless memory fragments of the small building pierced her heart like silver needles—memories built from twenty years of the sincere love Fang Hong and Mu Yunshu had offered her.
Fang Zhiyi was the sister she had watched grow up, the “Little Yi” held in the palms of Mu Yunshu and Fang Hong’s hands.
How dare she?
If she hadn’t been reborn—if she truly had to meet Mu Yunshu and Fang Hong in the underworld—she feared she could only scurry away like a street rat.
She choked and coughed.
A warm, heavy hand patted her shoulder gently. Fang Rulian snapped her eyes open, failing to hide the panic and agony in her gaze. Her mouth hung open, her breathing heavy.
“Are you feeling unwell?”
The rough lines of a palm rubbed her forehead. She heard Fang Hong’s voice, low and concerned. “Your face is so pale… is it still because of that?”
…
Fang Rulian recalled the events of the previous night.
She told Fang Hong she was fine, then brought up the matter regarding her uncle in a roundabout way. Fang Hong understood her meaning and said directly, “Don’t worry, we won’t be seeing them anymore.”
“Can we get back the money we lent him?” Fang Rulian asked, then reconsidered. “Forget it. Let’s just cut ties completely. Consider that money as food for a dog.”
She got out of bed and went into the living room. Breakfast her mother had bought was on the table. Rulian ate while it was hot, bringing up another matter to Fang Hong.
“I go for a physical?”
Fang Hong was baffled. “Why are you suddenly asking me to get a check-up?”
In her previous life, Fang Hong’s cause of death was sudden cardiac arrest. Fang Rulian couldn’t rest easy. “It’s a school requirement. They need the medical reports of immediate family to check for hereditary conditions or other illnesses.”
She took a sip of soy milk, spinning a lie without blinking. “Since we’re seniors, we need it for signing the tripartite employment agreements. It’s linked to our student profiles. Companies won’t hire people with certain hereditary diseases; they have to screen everyone.”
Fang Hong was skeptical. “Then why haven’t I heard Xiao Lin’s mother mention it?”
Xiao Lin was a neighbor from a couple of houses down who had graduated last year.
“We aren’t at the same school.” Fang Rulian was unreasonable yet assertive. “Every school has different regulations! Oh fine, if you think the check-up is too expensive… then don’t do it. I’ll just tell my counselor we’re poor and see if they can make an exception.”
“I’ll do it, I’ll do it! Why trouble the teacher over something so small?”
Having successfully used reverse psychology, Fang Rulian lowered her head to bite into a bun, a faint smile touching her lips.
The check-up was scheduled for Tuesday morning. Fang Rulian took Fang Hong to the hospital on her electric scooter. The full suite of tests wasn’t cheap. Seeing Fang Hong’s knit brows and hesitant movements, Rulian said, “The school will reimburse part of it later.”
While waiting for their turn outside the ultrasound room, Fang Hong’s expression softened. A few seconds later, she said with relief, “It’s good to be educated. The government policies are so supportive.”
Three days later, the results came back. There were no major issues, only a few slightly abnormal indicators. The doctor suggested watching her diet and avoiding fatigue and late nights.
Fang Rulian breathed a sigh of relief, not forgetting to nag her mother. “No more staying up late to watch dramas!”
“I know, I know!” Fang Hong couldn’t stand the nagging. She looked down at the abnormal data on the report. Though she didn’t understand what the numbers meant, she began to value her life more. “I won’t stay up late anymore.”
After staring at the report for a long time, she suddenly looked up and spoke seriously to her daughter. “You aren’t allowed to stay up late either!”
Fang Rulian nodded repeatedly.
The mother and daughter rode the scooter to the nearest wet market.
By the time they finished shopping and returned home, it was still early. Fang Hong went downstairs to look after the supermarket, while Fang Rulian pulled out her laptop to continue working on her “trash” thesis, thinking about how to polish it into “high-grade trash” that could at least pass the graduation defense.
Not ten minutes later, her phone rang. It was Lu Ke.
“I’m home. Come out and play.”
Fang Rulian hesitated. “I’m busy, I’m revising my thesis.”
The voice on the other end laughed. “Stop pretending, Fang Rulian. I’m over by Nanmen Bridge. Get over here quick, I bought you milk tea.”
Wasting food was a sin, so Fang Rulian reluctantly headed out.
She arrived quickly on her scooter. Before her butt even hit the seat, Lu Ke excitedly announced she was going to see a celebrity in a few days and asked if Rulian wanted to join.
Fang Rulian knew exactly what she was going to say, but she feigned surprise. “Huh? Really? Which celebrity?”
As expected, Lu Ke got even more excited. She looked around, lowered her voice, and told Rulian about her favorite star. She said the star was about to join a film crew, and she had discovered through multiple channels which crew it was and that they were hiring extras. She had already signed up.
Lu Ke passionately invited Rulian to sign up too. “You’re free during this time anyway, just come with me. You get to see a celebrity up close and earn money.”
Seeing Rulian’s cold, unmoved expression, Lu Ke continued her pitch. “Besides, you’re so pretty. If some famous director with a keen eye spots you, they might cast you as the lead in a new film. Then you’d sign with a big company and have non-stop roles, skyrocketing straight to the A-list…”
The thought was so beautiful that Lu Ke began to daydream on her own.
For Fang Rulian, this wasn’t a fantasy. In her past life, this was exactly how she had entered the entertainment industry—relying entirely on the face her mother gave her to break into the final circles, only to be ruthlessly eliminated in the end.
She silently sipped her milk tea. Once Lu Ke snapped out of it, Rulian uttered three words: “Not interested.”
Lu Ke frowned, leaning forward. “Really? No interest? You can see a big star up close!”
She shook her head. “Which star do you like again?”
“This one.” Lu Ke showed her a photo saved on her phone. “The male lead from last year’s hit drama The Peach Blossom Calamity. He’s gorgeous and a great actor. His name is Liu Chi.”
Fang Rulian looked at the photo and remembered the guy. Unluckily, in her past life, she had shared scenes with this “celebrity.” She nodded along to her friend’s praise, but internally, she refuted every point: Ugly guy, relies entirely on makeup and filters, an uneducated brat with no manners, and acting so bad it made her lose her mind.
Once Lu Ke started talking about her idol, she became relentless and lost in her own world. Fang Rulian was forced to listen to forty minutes of promotion. Her mind was filled with the image of that ugly guy’s wooden crying scenes. She had to force a smile to indulge her friend; it was pure mental torture.
At the end, Lu Ke still hadn’t given up on dragging her along. Fang Rulian stood her ground. Lu Ke sighed. “I remember you used to say you wanted to be an actress. Why won’t you give it a try?”
Fang Rulian froze for a moment, then bit her straw and laughed. “I also used to say I wanted to be a scientist.”
“Essays written for the Chinese teacher don’t count.” Lu Ke propped her chin on her hand, reminiscing. “In high school, when the class performed the play Thunderstorm, you played Fan Yi. You were so good—your lines, your posture, your expressions. Everyone in class said you could be an actress. I even took a video of you. You were so—”
“What time is it?” Fang Rulian interrupted abruptly.
The fingers holding her phone trembled slightly. She lowered her head, but her gaze didn’t actually land on the time displayed on the screen.