Today, my brother died. Or perhaps yesterday. I don’t know.

Mu Shuanghua only remembered receiving a call from the police station, telling her to come identify her brother’s body.

In that moment, the world turned eerily silent to her—like the boundless sky—while her consciousness drifted like a kite with a broken string.

When she snapped back to reality, she found herself standing in the hospital’s cold morgue, facing her brother.

How long had it been since she last saw him? Days? Months? Years?

As she counted the days on her fingers, Mu Shuanghua had imagined countless reunions with Mu Yueran. Yet she never pictured a simple white sheet forever separating them—and she lacked the courage to lift it.

The one she’d yearned for day and night had turned to dust. How much time passed before the woman they called “mother” finally sat down to talk?

Mu Shuanghua lifted her gaze, glancing at her mother across the table. Her fingers gripped a spoon, stirring coffee in her cup—the ice clinking softly against the glass.

Even past forty, Shen Qiao still radiated charm. Her heavy makeup and figure-hugging clothes hid the grief of a mother who’d just lost a son.

“I’m talking to you, Mu Shuanghua,” Shen Qiao said commandingly. “Have you grown disobedient after years away?”

Her tone made Mu Shuanghua frown impatiently. She shot back, “Shen Qiao, I have training. I’m busy. Spit it out.”

Shen Qiao rubbed her forehead in exasperation. As if proving a point, she delicately pinched her coffee cup with two pinkies, took a sip, and said calmly, “I’m remarrying.”

Mu Shuanghua’s stirring stopped abruptly. She sat straight, staring in disbelief. Her mother felt suddenly distant. Her hands clenched the wooden table as she asked, voice trembling, “Now?”

“Mm. He’s a good man. We’ve been together a while—during your absence.”

“And he doesn’t mind my past marriage or that I have a daughter.”

A rare blush spread across Shen Qiao’s face. She hid it behind her cup.

The pretentious display made Mu Shuanghua wish she were blind. But Shen Qiao’s words stunned her more.

Mu Shuanghua stood, shouting, her voice thick with tears and fury: “Do you know my brother just died?!”

Shen Qiao stiffened for an instant—then resumed her poised posture. She sighed regretfully. “I’d hoped for your blessing.”

She slid a wedding invitation across the table. “You may come. But behave. Control that temper.”

“Remember: don’t be selfish like your brother and father.”

Shen Qiao tossed bills onto the table and strode out like a victor—as if she were the true victim, reborn and thriving beyond them all.

Mu Shuanghua stood frozen behind her, fists clenched until her nails bit her palms. Rage burned her sanity; she fought the urge to chase Shen Qiao and beat her senseless.

She feared she’d kill her.

Brother wouldn’t want to see Mother like this.

Mu Shuanghua took a deep breath, suppressing her anger—but where to vent the bitterness?

She headed to the training ring. Gloves on, she knocked down every opponent, one after another.

The coach and manager watched, dumbfounded. Her punches grazed past fists with lethal precision.

Hits didn’t faze her. She traded blows recklessly—temple swollen, lip bleeding—refusing to quit. The fire in her eyes threatened to consume others or herself first.

The manager realized this wasn’t training—it was self-destruction. He glanced at the coach to stop it.

The coach shook his head helplessly. “She won’t stop. Only exhaustion will end it.”

“She’s full of hatred. Her brother, a while back…” He trailed off. Everyone knew what Mu Yueran meant to her.

Opponents fell in waves—same weight class, then others—until Mu Shuanghua tilted her head back, gasping.

The ceiling lights blurred her vision. She collapsed. In the haze, her mind drifted to a summer night years ago: her battered brother carrying her from an alley, bullies sprawled behind them.

Mu Shuanghua wiped his wounds tenderly. Mu Yueran sucked in a breath—but before he spoke, she burst into tears, clinging to his neck. “Wuwu… when I grow up… I’ll protect you, Brother!”

Mu Yueran smiled bitterly, stroking her head. “Okay. I’ll wait.”

Brother, you liar!

You promised to wait…

You promised…

“Hua’er, wake up…”

“Hua’er!”

Hearing the familiar name, Mu Shuanghua snapped her eyes open—but the face wasn’t her brother’s.

Piao Lele, her friend and the club’s wealthy sponsor, gazed at her anxiously.

Piao Lele pressed a band-aid to Mu Shuanghua’s cut, scolding, “I told you not to fight so hard! Why won’t you listen?”

Mu Shuanghua took a deep breath, raised a V-sign to show she was fine. Piao Lele chuckled, handing her water. “Come to a dinner party with me tonight?”

Mu Shuanghua shook her head firmly. “No. I don’t do rich people’s parties.”

But Piao Lele pleaded with a sorrowful pout, finally offering a 3% sponsorship increase. Mu Shuanghua reluctantly agreed.

After a quick wash, she rode with Piao Lele to the banquet. Scenery blurred past the window—irrelevant. She felt like a machine, moving by rote.

At the venue, Piao Lele handed her an invitation. “Keep this with you.”

Inside, Mu Shuanghua scanned the crowd with boredom. The air reeked of money; conversations dripped with calculation, not sincerity.

Sighing, she sought a quiet corner to wait—when a stunning purple figure caught her eye. Her feet followed involuntarily.

Just like before.