On Christmas Eve, I was delivering food on my e-bike through a blizzard when my phone suddenly buzzed. "Sister." Just one word, mixed with static, struck me like a thunderbolt. But I had signed a non-disclosure agreement and disappeared with that money ten years ago. I didn't understand why my biological sister, who took the college spot I sold to her, was contacting me now. "I'm at the gate of the complex where you're delivering." "Mom and Dad are dying. They want to see you one last time." The gate? I slammed on the brakes, the tires carving a black mark in the snow. A stretch Lincoln was parked at the complex entrance. The window rolled down halfway, revealing a face with exquisite makeup and well-maintained skin. Looking at that face—identical to mine in features but worlds apart in fate—my freezing red hands gripped the handlebars tightly. I didn't understand. They sucked my blood dry to pave her way. What more could they want from me now? Breathing out a puff of white mist, I ignored her. I twisted the throttle and rode past the luxury car without a glance. 1 I didn't even look back at the stretch Lincoln. Behind me came the sound of a car door opening and slamming shut. Chloe didn't chase after me. Of course. Wearing a couture gown worth tens of thousands and three-inch lambskin heels, how could she step onto this muddy, snowy ground? Ten minutes later. I parked my bike downstairs at the dilapidated apartment complex scheduled for demolition. My hands were frozen stiff; I could barely unclench them from the handlebars. I struggled to untie the delivery box. My phone buzzed again. An unknown number. I knew who it was without answering. I hung up directly. Then came a barrage of text messages. "Ava, how long are you going to be stubborn?" "Dad has uremia, end-stage. He needs a kidney transplant immediately." "If you have any conscience left, stop playing dead." Seeing the word "uremia," I just wanted to laugh. I really wanted to laugh. Ten years ago, they tricked me the same way. Said Grandma had a brain tumor, was dying, and urgently needed that so-called "selling price." And the result? I stuffed the phone back into my pocket and rubbed the back of my hand, covered in chilblains. The cracks opened again, oozing blood. I climbed up to the sixth floor. Before I even entered, I heard coughing inside. I pushed the door open. A damp, moldy smell hit me. The rental, less than 300 square feet, was piled high with scavenged cardboard boxes. "Honey, you're back?" Hearing the noise, Mark dragged his lame leg, limping over to greet me. He held a cup of steaming hot water. "Warm your hands, quick." I looked at his faded work pants and the leg crippled by a workplace injury. A corner of the ice in my heart melted. "Mommy!" My daughter, Lily, crawled out from behind Mark with a paintbrush. She had a streak of ink on her face, smiling to reveal a row of tiny teeth. "Mommy look, I drew a big house. We'll live there one day!" The squiggly lines on the paper depicted a villa with a garden. My nose stung. I squatted down, about to hug my daughter. The door was pounded heavily. Bang! Bang! Bang! The force was strong, urgent, carrying an arrogance that refused rejection. No neighbor in this broken building knocked like that. Mark's face changed. He instinctively shielded me and the child behind him. "Who is it?" He went to open the door. As soon as the door cracked open, it was violently kicked wide by a foot in a black leather shoe. Mark, unsteady on his feet, staggered back and almost fell onto the coal stove. Two bodyguards in black suits walked in. Followed by... An expensive perfume scent. Chloe, in her high heels, covered her nose in disgust and walked into my "pigsty." She scanned the moldy wallpaper. Her gaze finally landed on Mark and me. The condescending charity in her eyes stung. "Sis, you live in a place like this?" She kicked a cardboard box aside. "Come back with me. Save Dad's life, and I'll give you fifty thousand dollars." Fifty thousand. To buy my kidney. Just like ten years ago, three hundred thousand bought my life. 2 The air in the room seemed to freeze. Lily, terrified, shrank into my arms, sobbing quietly. Though Mark was crippled, he stood before us like an angry lion. "Get out!" He grabbed the wrench he used for fixing appliances. A bodyguard stepped forward, reaching out to shove Mark. "Don't touch him!" I screamed, grabbing the scissors on the table used for cutting delivery bags. I aimed the sharp tip at Chloe's exquisite face. "Get your people out, or I don't guarantee this face will ever go on stage to play piano again." Chloe was startled. She instinctively covered her face and took two steps back. "Ava, are you crazy?" "I'm here to help you!" Her eyes widened, full of incredulity. "Look at this loser you married, and this little brat you gave birth to." "Don't you want a better life?" I sneered. "Help me?" "As who? As Chloe, the name I should have had, or as 'Ava,' the name that stole my life?" Hearing this, Chloe's face paled. It was her only stain. The scar she feared most being uncovered. She gritted her teeth, pulled a check from her limited edition Hermès bag, and tossed it lightly onto the ground. The thin piece of paper landed on the cold concrete floor. "It wasn't easy for Mom and Dad to raise you. Although the methods were harsh back then, you took the money yourself." "You squandered three hundred thousand and ended up like this. Who's to blame?" "Unlike me. I worked hard, I improved myself. I lived up to that admission spot." She spoke with such righteousness. As if I really took the huge sum to party, while she was the diligent genius. I just found it absurd. Anger exploded in my chest, burning my insides. But I couldn't get physical. For my daughter, I couldn't go to jail. I took a deep breath. Bent down. Picked up the check. A smug smile curled Chloe's lips. "That's rig—" Riiiip— The sound of tearing paper. I tore the fifty-thousand-dollar check into shreds right in front of her. I threw them into the air. The confetti fell like snow on her coat worth tens of thousands. Then. I picked up the cup of overnight tea on the table. Bitter tea stems still floating in it. Splash— The brown tea water flowed down her meticulously styled curls, ruining her exquisite makeup, and dripping onto the white fur. Chloe's scream almost lifted the roof. "Ah!! Ava! You dare splash me!" The bodyguards moved to strike. I pointed at the old camera in the corner. "There's surveillance in this room, connected to the cloud." "Touch me, and I'll send the story of you buying an identity and stealing my college admission ten years ago to the media." "We'll go down together." Chloe froze. She was a famous pianist. A public figure. She couldn't afford to lose. "Fine. Very good." Chloe wiped the tea from her face. Makeup smeared, she looked like a clown. "Ava, you will regret this." She fled in embarrassment with her bodyguards. The hurried click-clack of high heels echoed in the hallway. Until the sound completely disappeared. Only then did I go limp, the scissors clattering to the floor. Mark walked over, asking nothing. He just silently pulled me into his arms. His embrace smelled of engine oil, but it made me feel incredibly safe. "It's okay, Ava. It's okay." But. Was it really okay? 3 Three in the morning. Mark's phone rang. It was the owner of the auto repair shop. "Mark, someone complained you swapped parts on a luxury car. The evidence is solid." "Don't come in tomorrow. Prepare the compensation money." I listened to the busy tone on the phone. My hands gripped the sheets tightly. Revenge came so fast. Mark hung up. In the dark, he didn't speak, just went to the balcony to smoke a cigarette. The glowing ember seemed to be counting down our time. Early the next morning. Mark put on his faded work clothes, pretending nothing happened. "I'm going to work. I'll bring roast duck tonight." He smiled honestly, exhaustion hiding in the wrinkles of his eyes. I knew he was going to beg. Or look for odd jobs at other shops. With his leg, he couldn't find a good job. After Mark left, I sent Lily to daycare. Then, I got on the bus to the city center. I was going to end this. Outside the window, scenery flew by. When passing the famous music conservatory, my heart spasmed in pain. Ten years ago. I looked out the window like this too. Back then, I held a gold-stamped admission letter. I was the provincial piano competition champion. I was Ava, the "genius girl." My future was bright. Until that night. My parents suddenly knelt before me. That kneel broke my spine. "Ava, Grandma has late-stage brain cancer. Surgery costs a hundred thousand." "We don't have money! Selling the house isn't enough!" "But someone is willing to pay, as long as you... as long as you give up your admission letter." Give up? Was that giving up? It was making me disappear from this world! It was letting Chloe take my name, take my life, and go to that university! I refused. I was a person; I had dreams too. But Father took out a bottle of pesticide. He stood by Grandma's sickbed, threatening to pour the poison into her mouth. "Since we can't afford treatment, let's all die together!" Mother kowtowed until her face was bloody. "Ava, she's your own sister! She's weak, can't do heavy work. If you don't help her, she's ruined!" "You have hands and feet; you can live without college!" What laughable logic. To save Grandma. For this family. I signed. I signed the severance of ties, signed the non-disclosure agreement. That night, my ID was confiscated, and I was put on a bus to a factory in the south. I pressed against the window, watching Chloe wearing my favorite white dress, smiling under the streetlight. She took everything from me. Memories sawed back and forth in my brain like a rusty blade. It hurt so much I almost suffocated. The bus arrived. City Central Hospital. I got off and took a deep breath. Cold air rushed into my lungs, making me cough violently. Following the information Chloe gave, I found the VIP ward. Through the glass window. I saw those leech parents. Father David lay in bed, sallow-faced, on an IV drip. Mother Sarah was peeling an apple for him. Chloe sat on the sofa nearby, admiring her well-maintained hands. What a heartwarming scene. I pushed the door open. Bang! The door hit the wall with a loud crash. The three people in the room looked over simultaneously. Seeing me, David's cloudy eyes showed no joy, only calculation. Like a hungry wolf seeing meat. "Ava is here?" Sarah put down the apple, put on a loving mother's face, and rushed over. "My child, Mom missed you so much!" "Your dad is dying; he just wants to see you." She tried to take my hand. I dodged sideways. Her hand hung in midair, awkward for a moment, then she wiped tears again. "Child, still hate Mom and Dad?" "Didn't we give you that three hundred thousand back then?" I stood in the center of the ward, looking coldly at this family of actors. "Mark's job, was that your doing?" I didn't waste words. "Get him reinstated, compensate for the loss, or no deal." Chloe stood up. She was wearing a Chanel suit today, still noble. "As long as you agree to the typing and donate a kidney to Dad." "Forget the job, I'll give you a hundred thousand." "A hundred thousand is enough for a bottom-feeder like you to spend for a lifetime." Her tone was contemptuous, like dismissing a beggar. I stared into Chloe's eyes. Walked towards her step by step. "You think I lived well these years with that so-called selling price?" Chloe frowned, looking innocent. "Didn't you?" "Mom and Dad gave you three hundred thousand. You said you wanted to travel the world, didn't want to study because it was too tiring, so I reluctantly went in your place." "In these ten years, you must have spent all the money, right?" "Otherwise, why would you be delivering food?" I froze. Then, a huge sense of absurdity welled up. I started laughing. Laughing until I couldn't stand straight, laughing until tears spurted out. "Hahahaha..." "Three hundred thousand? Travel the world?" I stopped laughing abruptly, grabbing Chloe's wrist. Those were hands that played piano—white, slender, callous-free. Then. I shoved my own hands right in front of her eyes. Right in front of her exquisite face. "Open your dog eyes and look!" "Are these hands that traveled the world?" Those hands. Covered in calluses, joints swollen and deformed. The backs were red and swollen with ulcerated chilblains. These were hands that turned screws for ten years. Hands that delivered food for three years. Hands that washed dishes in winter and moved cement in summer! Chloe backed away in horror, trying to break free. "You... what are you doing? So dirty!" "Dirty?" I gripped harder. "There's dirtier." I turned to look at David feigning death on the bed, and Sarah looking guilty. "Chloe, ask these good parents." "Where did that three hundred thousand go back then?" Chloe looked at her parents. "Dad, Mom, what's going on?" Sarah avoided eye contact, daring not look at me. David turned angry from shame, roaring: "Why ask! The money is spent!" I answered for him. "I'll tell you." "That night, a hundred thousand was taken by him to pay gambling debts!" "The remaining two hundred thousand bought you that Steinway piano, hired famous teachers, paved your way!" Chloe froze. "Then... then Grandma?" "Grandma's surgery fee?" I gritted my teeth, every word dripping blood: "Grandma didn't use a cent!" "She died of pain!" "Because there was no money for surgery, the hospital kicked her out. She died of pain in that leaky shack!" "And I was locked in a black factory, didn't even see her one last time!"
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