I don’t even know when I picked up this bad habit: on non-school nights, I simply can’t fall asleep without playing on my phone while buried in my pillow.
Ab-so-lute-ly! Can’t! Sleep!
Yejia Yin’s face turned slightly ashen. Her lips trembled for a moment, and she let out a breath. Finally, with a defeated sigh, she tossed the phone over. “If anyone calls, remember to bring it to me.”
“Mhm mhm mhm mhm,” I nodded vigorously, clutching the phone like it was my most precious treasure.
“Also, your clothes for tomorrow morning are in the suitcase. You’ll change into the wedding dress only after we arrive.”
Mhm mhm mhm mhm. The later, the better. I did like that dress, but I really didn’t want to parade around in it.
Seeing me completely absorbed in the mobile game, Yejia Yin sighed helplessly, turned, and walked out of the room. I dove right in—Japanese card games like this are so fun!
Plus, she’d given me her Alipay password. Staring at the gorgeous game graphics, I glanced around slyly and secretly topped up 648 yuan. As for not seeming like a spendthrift—playing games isn’t wasteful!
...
Last night, I played until almost midnight. No calls came, so I placed the phone by the bedside table and set a seven o’clock alarm. My sleep was short, but I woke up feeling incredibly refreshed—my whole body had never felt better. Lightly raising my hand, I touched a strand of pale cherry blossom-pink hair. I knew I’d changed back.
No, “changed over” was more accurate.
Time to get up. Today was the most important day of my life—Luo Xiaoyao’s life. And also the most absurd thing: being the bride at this grand wedding.
...
Yejia Yin felt she hadn’t been quite herself lately. Sometimes, she almost mixed up the persona she wore in public with her true self.
Maybe, as that pesky little fox who gave her headaches would say, she was on the verge of a split personality.
What was her real personality like? Perhaps it wasn’t just the obedient, straight-A student girl she pretended to be. Even the cold, ruthless woman at work was all an act.
Maybe deep down, she was a scheming prankster. Otherwise, she wouldn’t handle her female subordinates’ mistakes in such embarrassing ways. Though her methods worked.
Like that day during her first meeting with the little fox—she’d clearly seen the cat girl with their ambiguous relationship arrive. On a whim, she’d leaned in intimately to whisper suggestive words.
If life had gone normally, she might’ve become the standard scheming, sharp-tongued young lady from stories.
But there were no ifs. Everything had happened, and she had to keep walking this path. It was her choice—a difficult road, strewn with thorns.
Why live so hard, scarred for that elusive goal? Ambition? She didn’t know. A dream? No.
Perhaps it was because when the Yeh Family’s world collapsed, she chose to step up—and her life was sealed from that moment.
That day, she stood at the center of the ruined family hall. Everyone watched her, watching her stand like the backbone on the blood-stained head table. As if she were their only reliance.
