To allow the female lead to successfully conquer him, the system faked my death. When I opened my eyes again, six years had already passed. I stood on the street penniless. The male and female leads were already living happily ever after, while I had just escaped a massive fire, so disheveled I didn't even have a single shoe. Feeling a bit lost, I sent a message to Arthur. "...Could you come pick me up?" A call came back very quickly. But the person speaking wasn't Arthur. A child stayed silent for a moment, then said with deliberate coldness: "Oh, another one pretending to be my mom." 1 But he still came. A kind-hearted passerby had told him my location. The breathing on the other end of the receiver hitched. The voice was soft and sweet, and he hung up abruptly. "Be there soon." I returned the borrowed phone to the passerby and mouthed a silent "thank you." When I was young, a high fever ruined my vocal cords. Since then, I hadn't been able to speak a single word. Before long, a car stopped in front of me. A child jumped out of the car, his legs kicking the air. When he saw my face, his eyes flashed. With a cold little face, he quietly observed me for a moment. His gaze landed on the foot missing a shoe. Disheveled, dirty, covered in black soot. Because I had just escaped from a fire. When I opened my eyes again, I had time-traveled six years into the future. My fingers curled; I belatedly felt a sense of embarrassment. But I pretended not to care and used sign language to say: "I didn't mean to disturb you." "Could you lend me some money? I'll leave right away." Six years had passed, and the male and female leads were already living happily ever after. Even my child had changed his tune and was calling someone else "Mom." Halfway through signing, I suddenly realized Leo didn't understand sign language. I borrowed the driver's phone, but just as I was about to type, Leo, looking unhappy, pulled me into the car. It was the evening rush hour. I thought he was angry because he heard the honking of the cars behind us urging us to move. He turned his head and stared out the window without speaking, so I had no choice but to show him the phone. Leo kept his little face straight and asked me very seriously: "How much money do you want?" I typed: "One thousand dollars." Leo stared at those three words for a moment, then said uncertainly: "Ten million?" My vision went dark. I stared at him in disbelief and quickly waved my hands. Leo pursed his lips, his voice full of childish innocence: "Is that not enough?" "I don't have that much money, but when we get home, I'll ask Dad to give it to you." I furiously tapped on the phone screen. But he pushed the phone I held in front of him away, his young voice sounding a bit muffled: "I don't know a lot of characters. I can't read it." How many words does a six-year-old actually know? He clearly recognized a complex word like "borrow" just now, but now he couldn't tell the difference between "thousand" and "million." I gave up in frustration, but when I looked down, I saw that Leo's shoes were on the wrong feet, and his socks were different colors. Was he in that much of a hurry to leave the house? I pursed my lips, feeling a bit sad, and reached out to point, wanting to let him know. But he seemed to misinterpret my intention. Tilting his head, he asked me: "Do you want to hold hands?" He scrunched up his face, acting as if it were a huge imposition, but he still reached his hand over. "Fine, I'll reluctantly let you hold it for a little while." 2 Arthur was like this when he was little too. Back then, I was living at his house. At first, no one thought much of me, the little mute girl. He had been kidnapped when he was young, and his parents both died in that incident. Mr. Vance, his grandfather, was worried he might develop trauma responses, so he had him pick a playmate in Capitol City. And out of a crowd of chattering kids his age, Arthur chose the clumsy, slow me. Consequently, the Hastings family rode his coattails to success. I only found out later that Arthur chose me that day because I was the quietest, not noisy. One stormy night, after I had been living invisibly in the Vance household for some time, the thunder woke me up. Then I heard a knock on the door. When I opened it, Arthur was standing there, clutching a blanket, his face tense. He enunciated every word: "Are you afraid of the thunder?" I looked blank and wanted to shake my head. But he pressed a hand to my head and said, a bit unnaturally: "Got it. Then I'll reluctantly keep you company tonight." ...So stupid. Did he really think I couldn't tell that he was the one who was scared? People who crave love usually have a hard time getting it. Just like how, as a child craving maternal love, I never once received my mother's favoritism. The only time she praised me was the night I was chosen by Arthur. So, the Arthur who didn't belong to me was destined to be separated from me. Six years ago, before that fire broke out, the female lead, Serena, had shown me her future with Arthur. It turned out I was just a vicious supporting character who accidentally had a messy one-night stand with the male lead, secretly gave birth to his child, and tried to use the child to extort a massive fortune. In that future, I died in a huge fire. After my death, the female lead saved the male lead, and years later, they lived happily ever after. Even my child accepted someone else as his new mother. After seeing that, I felt a bit lost. Was I really that bad in someone else's story? Later, I actually found myself trapped in a massive fire. I only had time to pass the child through a narrow gap before I was completely blocked inside by the devouring flames. I inhaled a lungful of thick smoke, and when I opened my eyes again, I was six years in the future. I am a mute. I can't say pleasant things, and I can't say mean things either. I can't even win an argument. If I hadn't been truly desperate, with Arthur's phone number being the only one I remembered... I thought we would never see each other again. But right now, I was starting to regret it. I never intended to return to the Vance family. In my expectations, Arthur would have unhesitatingly thrown money at me and told me to get lost. After all, in his eyes, that chaotic night was a trap set by the Hastings family and me. But things seemed to have deviated. I suddenly felt like I was sitting on pins and needles. I wanted to say I didn't want the money anymore, I wanted to get out of the car. But Leo pushed the phone away, saying he couldn't read it, and the driver kept his eyes glued to the road ahead. So I could only watch helplessly as the car drove into the Vance family's underground garage. 3 To my relief, Arthur wasn't home. The driver explained that he had gone abroad early this morning to negotiate a business deal and wouldn't be back until next week. My phone was accidentally smashed during the fire. When I put my SIM card into a new phone and turned it on, a dense swarm of messages frantically poured in. The screen even froze for a second. I was startled. Messages from the service provider showed that a massive amount of credit had been added to my phone plan. And the other missed calls and unread messages mostly came from the same familiar number. I pursed my lips and clicked on them. Scrolling from top to bottom. [Chloe Hastings, sleep and run?] [I'm not angry. Come out, stop hiding.] This timestamp... it must have been during the few months when the Hastings family dragged me back and locked me in the attic, forcing me to secretly give birth to the child. At that time, my phone was confiscated, and I lost contact with everyone. [...They said you died. I didn't believe it.] [The Hastings family traded the child for those plots of land in the East District. I gave it to them.] [How much do I have to give for you to be willing to appear again?] [The child looks a lot like you.] [Today, someone scammed Leo out of $200 using your name.] [Idiot, if you don't show up soon, your son is going to be kidnapped.] ... The last message was from two years ago. [If you see this message, call me.] After that, silence. I figured this was probably the point where the female lead successfully saved Arthur. So Arthur finally gave up sending me messages. I lowered my eyelashes. My chest felt tight, almost suffocating, but I couldn't explain why. Actually, I had seen it. While standing on the street waiting for Leo, I saw the advertisement on the giant mall screen. At that time, I stared blankly up and saw Serena endorsing a brand under the Vance Group. For some inexplicable reason, I cried. No matter how hard I wiped, I couldn't dry my tears. It turns out it really isn't true that you can't live without someone. Now that they are happy and fulfilled, my appearance would only be an intrusion. Right then, I had just been about to leave, but Leo happened to appear in front of me. And through a series of mishaps, I got into the car and returned to the Vance household. I checked my bank account balance. I didn't know if the Hastings family thought the meager amount in my account was beneath them, or if they truly didn't care about me. After I "died" six years ago, they didn't even cancel my registration. Clutching the reassuring balance, I planned to transfer the money for the phone and clothes to the Vance family staff to pass on. And then leave this place. ...Since everyone was happy, I shouldn't intrude anymore. Just as I pushed the door open. Leo, standing outside, instinctively took a step back, startled by me. He lifted his chin, using his childish voice to pretend he was asking casually: "Where are you going?" When I was in the room, I had downloaded a translation app in advance. I typed the words and played the audio out loud. "Thank you. I'm leaving now." Time really is a magical thing. The infant who was wailing loudly in my arms just a few hours ago could now jump and skip in the blink of an eye. His eyes widened slightly, the rims suddenly turning red. Very nervously and frantically, he grabbed my hand and yelled loudly: "No! You still owe me money, you can't leave!" All his previous feigned coldness was gone. I crouched down to look him in the eye. Very carefully, very cherishingly, I stroked his soft black hair. I had seen that future. In that future, everyone was happy. Leo had a perfect mother, and he grew up safe and happy. There was no calculating grandfather, nor a mute, unlikable mother. I pressed the play button, and the calm, mechanical voice echoed in the hallway. "I will transfer the money for the phone to you." Leo glared at me, stubbornly clutching my hand and refusing to let go. Crying so hard he was gasping for air, he shook his head and said: "Not that one." "You messaged me asking me to transfer $200 to you." "That day after school, I sneaked out and waited for you on the pedestrian bridge for a long time." "You lied to me. You never came." His somewhat jumbled words reminded me of what Arthur had mentioned in the text message—someone had used my name to scam Leo out of $200. My eyes stung. I used my hand to wipe away the tears on Leo's soft cheeks. If Serena came back and saw this, it would be bad. She was the new mother Leo liked; I absolutely couldn't let my presence cause a rift between them. Maybe later, she and Arthur would have their own child, and she would have her own favorites, but the first one is always different. I didn't want her to feel nothing but disgust and awkwardness whenever she saw Leo because of me. I wanted to leave before Serena came back. Just as I turned around, Leo threw himself at me and hugged one of my legs. I swallowed the sourness in my chest and looked down helplessly at the clinging, pestering Leo. But then, a rustling sound came from ahead. Sensing something, I looked up. Only to crash into a pair of pitch-black eyes. In the long hallway, someone stood travel-worn at the top of the stairs, his trench coat soaked by the heavy rain, his voice very hoarse. Arthur said: "...Chloe Hastings." "How can you bully a child?" 4 I don't know when the rain started falling outside the window. But I somewhat frantically pried Leo's hands off me, then hurriedly looked behind Arthur. I didn't see anyone else. Only then did I let out a sigh of relief. Leo clung to me again, hugging my leg while shouting at Arthur: "Dad, quickly give Mom ten million!" "If you give it to her, she won't leave." Me: "...?" Facing Arthur's subtle gaze, I pursed my lips and couldn't help but raise my hands to defend myself: "I didn't." "I originally only wanted to borrow one thousand. Leo doesn't know sign language and can't read, he misunderstood." My hands moved flying fast, terrified he would misunderstand. Arthur clearly understood, but his expression paused, and he inexplicably let out a sneer, saying ambiguously: "Leo doesn't understand sign language?" I felt the little hands gripping my pant leg suddenly tighten. But Arthur quickly glossed over the topic. He told the whining, clinging Leo to go back to his room first. Leo glared at him angrily: "Why should I?" "I'm the one who brought Mom back." "And Mom sent me a text and called me. She came back because of me!" Even while arguing, he didn't forget to show off. Arthur lowered his eyes, looked at him for a moment, and curled his lips mockingly: "If you hadn't secretly swapped my SIM card again, would it have been your turn to pick her up?" He tried to pull Leo away, but couldn't budge him. "How about this? You ask her yourself if she'll let you go back to your room." The next instant, two pairs of eyes shot toward me simultaneously. My scalp tingled. I instinctively looked away, hesitating for a moment: "…How about I just leave?" Arthur turned his head and, with a straight face, spewed complete nonsense to Leo: "See, she says it's very late and you should be a good boy and go back to your room to sleep." "You're lying! She clearly—" Arthur cut him off: "Kids who don't understand sign language shouldn't make wild guesses." Hearing this, Leo's voice stopped abruptly. He pouted and looked at me pitifully, but ultimately didn't say anything. Seeming to notice Leo's reluctance, Arthur pulled me into the study and said to me concisely: "This stubborn kid won't give up." "Can you wait here for me for a bit?" Then, he crouched down in front of Leo and seemed to whisper something softly. Leo immediately quieted down. He sneaked a hesitant glance at me, then obediently let Arthur lead him away. The surroundings instantly went quiet. I snapped back to reality and heard the patter of rain coming from the half-open French windows in the study. The wind was strong, whipping the sheer curtains outward and making the papers on the desk flutter loudly. Worried the rain would mess up or get the documents wet, I walked over and closed the window. But as I turned around, I knocked a book off the shelf. A ten-dollar bill with a torn corner fell out from the title page. 5 Seeing that familiar ten-dollar bill, I froze. I felt like I had been transported back to that summer. By then, Arthur was no longer as cold to me as when we first met. I don't know when it started, but he had secretly learned sign language. I even clearly remembered the first time he clumsily used sign language to tell me, "Got it." His expression was still cold and casual. But he still managed to say stubbornly: "Waiting for you to write it down every time wastes too much of my time." I smiled, my eyes curving, just about to reply "Thank you." When the door was violently pushed open. "Who does Arthur think he is, always pulling a long face all day?!" "A bastard with no parents! He just does whatever he wants because of his family background, otherwise, who would bother sucking up to him!" "Wait until the old man kicks the bucket, let's see if he can still be this arrogant!" Arthur's expression remained indifferent until he heard his grandfather mentioned, at which point his face turned cold and his lips set in a hard line. The person seemed completely unaware of Arthur and me hidden in the corner behind layers of boxes. I recognized that voice; it was the youngest son of the Monroe family. Today was Grandpa Vance's birthday banquet. Earlier at the banquet, Mark Monroe had offered a toast to Arthur, but Arthur didn't drink. Instead, he swapped it for a glass of water, clinked glasses, and took a small sip. Mark's face had looked terrible before he left, and now I knew the reason. But from my observation, Arthur hadn't touched a drop of alcohol; even when he toasted his grandfather, he drank water. So Arthur wasn't targeting him specifically. He was indiscriminately targeting everyone. Everyone knew Arthur had been cold and quiet since he was kidnapped as a child, and they were used to it. I don't know how it became "pulling a long face" in his eyes. But after cursing Arthur, he started cursing me. "And that mute from the Hastings family too! I can never get her to come out; she avoids me like the plague." "Just a broken mute. Does she really think she's climbed the social ladder by being with the Vance family?" I felt Arthur lower his head, his gaze lingering on my face for a second. I slightly turned my head away, feeling inexplicably nervous, keeping my face straight and my lips pressed together. The people around Mark comforted him for a while and gave him ideas. For example, deliberately spilling wine on me later, or bribing a waiter to put wasabi in Arthur's water to humiliate him in public, things like that. When Mark finally vented his anger and left, Arthur slowly walked out from the shadowed corner. Then he turned into the kitchen. He rummaged around, seemingly unsatisfied. Inexplicably, I just knew he was looking for wasabi. I walked past him and pulled a handful of chili peppers from a corner of the prep area. Then I signed to ask him: "There's no wasabi." "These peppers are very spicy. Is chili water okay?" Arthur lowered his eyelids to look at me, reached out to take the peppers, and gave a lazy "Hmm." He summoned two waiters, whispered a few instructions, and then took me to the railing on the second floor. That was probably the liveliest scene of the night. While toasting with his elders, Mark spat everything out with a "Pfft," knocking over the champagne tower next to him and getting drenched in alcohol. The Monroe elders lost all face, apologizing profusely while publicly scolding him, chewing him out completely. Thoroughly humiliated, Mark seemed to sense something, looked up, and finally saw us watching the whole thing from the second-floor railing. Arthur tilted his head slightly, raised an eyebrow, lifted the glass of water in his hand in a distant toast. And mouthed, word by word: "Now this is doing whatever I want." The petty squabbles between the younger generation naturally couldn't be hidden from Grandpa Vance. Arthur could afford to be reckless, but I couldn't. Perhaps acting on Grandpa Vance's instructions, my mother, who had dumped me at the Vance household for years, unprecedentedly told me to go home with her that night. Seeing the birthday banquet coming to an end, I hesitated for a moment and apologized to Arthur: "I'm sorry, I might not be able to come to the Vance house to keep you company anymore." My mother's expression had been very grim earlier, and I suspected Grandpa Vance had kicked me out. Arthur clearly understood the underlying implications. He said dismissively: "If you don't want to go back, then don't. No one here is kicking you out." Seeing me still hanging my head dejectedly, he pulled me into the security room and showed me the footage of the kitchen and hallway. Only then did I realize the footage of us secretly doing bad things earlier had already been replaced. He copied the footage of Mark cursing and plotting onto a USB drive and signaled me to hold out my hand. "If he bothers you again, just throw this footage in his face." He paused for a second, then said: "You're going to stay with me until ten o'clock later." "Believe it or not, even if the Hastings family's car leaves, no one will come to kick you out tonight." Arthur stayed with me on the rooftop feeding mosquitoes until ten o'clock. I saw the Hastings family's car actually leave, and before leaving, my mother even gave me a very gentle, gratified smile. I was overwhelmed by the unexpected favor. I was very grateful to Arthur. I felt like the relationship between us was somewhat different now. Although helping me get revenge was just something he did in passing, he solved my problem and stayed with me on the rooftop to feed mosquitoes. This kind of thing was something only friends would do. So I used sign language, unable to resist asking: "Are we friends now?" "No." Was being Arthur's friend really that hard? I was a bit disappointed, but not too sad. After all, Arthur had always been aloof and hard to please. If not this time, I would just try harder next time. But the next moment, I heard Arthur say slowly: "It's a tighter, unbreakable relationship of accomplices." I widened my eyes slightly, staring blankly at him, inexplicably feeling that the relationship he described was much more important than just being ordinary friends. He suddenly spoke, his voice scattering in the wind: "Do you have any money on you?" I rummaged for a long time and finally pulled out a crumpled, torn ten-dollar bill from my pocket. Arthur accepted it unhurriedly. His shadow, cast on the ground by the moonlight, leaned toward me. "Now, I owe you ten dollars. You are my creditor." "So, in the future, if you encounter trouble, or run into something you don't want to do, or someone you don't want to see, you can always come to me to collect the debt, understand?" Seeing me spacing out, Arthur surprisingly didn't get angry, but patiently repeated: "Got it?" I nodded hastily and promised him: "Don't worry, I won't forget it for the rest of my life." Perhaps there were a few more similar earnest instructions like tonight's later on. I went from being cautious at first to proactively "collecting debts" from Arthur over trivial matters later. When I encountered difficulties, I no longer suffered in silence alone. It had been ingrained into a conditioned reflex by him. So much so that when I was trapped in the massive fire, opened my eyes, and found myself transported six years into the future— At that moment, standing on the bustling street, looking at the unfamiliar world, my mind was blank, and only panic remained. Yet even so, it never crossed my mind to contact my mother and return to the Hastings family. Instead, I instinctively borrowed a phone from a passerby. And sent a message to Arthur: "I am Chloe Hastings." I immediately typed the second half, hitting send without hesitation. "...Can you come pick me up?" 6 I picked up the ten-dollar bill that had fallen from the book. The wrinkles on the bill had long been pressed flat by the pages, leaving only the exact same torn corner from back then. I never thought Arthur would still keep it. The study door behind me was pushed open at that moment. I turned around and saw Arthur. It hadn't even been two minutes since he led Leo back to his room. His gaze landed on the ten-dollar bill in my hand, and he asked: "Are you ready to collect your debt from me now?" I didn't follow his lead, but instead asked him: "Is my household registration still active?" Arthur said: "Yes, when the Hastings family tried to cancel it back then, I stopped them and forced them to change it to missing." I breathed a sigh of relief. That's good. At least I wasn't undocumented now; I could still go out and look for a job. Otherwise, my savings would eventually run out. So, I solemnly held up the ten-dollar bill and signed: "I want to collect the debt." Arthur adopted a listening posture. "Give me an umbrella." The rain outside was heavy. I used the original ten dollars to finally exchange it for an umbrella. "Only this?" I nodded. Only this. I carefully folded the ten-dollar bill, intending to tuck it away in my pocket. This would be the last time I used this bill to collect a debt from Arthur. I remembered the feeling of standing under the giant screen, looking up at that advertisement and inexplicably shedding tears. It felt like seeing a beautiful, unattainable dream. If everyone could be happy, that would be great. From now on, there would be no more vicious supporting characters showing up to disrupt things. Taking back this old bill meant Arthur and I were completely even. But Arthur effortlessly slipped the ten dollars from my hand, tucked it back into the book, and placed it on a higher shelf. I was stunned. Me: "...What are you doing with my money?" Arthur lifted his eyelids to look at me, saying with utmost conviction: "I owe you money. You asked me for an umbrella, so this ten dollars belongs to me now." "Chloe, if you take both, isn't that a bit too greedy?" That seemed correct. But this way, the final interpretation rights of the ten-dollar debt would always be in Arthur's hands. The entanglement between us would never end. Caught in Arthur's logic, I pursed my lips, stood on my tiptoes, and reached up to grab it. "Then just give me the money. I don't want the umbrella." Arthur pressed down on my hand resting on the book cover, and as I lost my balance, he gently supported my waist. Our eyes met, mere inches apart. "Then consider it me borrowing another ten dollars from you." "This time, what do you want me to do?" He added: "Anything is fine. Even if you want to live in the Vance house forever, that's fine too." His tone was coaxing. But I understood his implication. I scrambled out of his embrace in a panic, feeling a bit angry at his unreasonable pestering. Six years had passed, and Arthur seemed to have gone bad. After he and the female lead achieved their happy ending, he still came to pester me. Did he want me to be his mistress? I gave him a very condemning look and refused without hesitation: "No." Arthur paused upon hearing this. His expression was flat, revealing nothing, but his tone carried a hint of regret: "Alright." He actually dared to feel regret? I thought, feeling a bit sad and sorrowful. I never expected the Arthur six years later to be like this. Not only had he gone bad, but he also lied to kids. I started bringing up the past. "Why did you just translate my sign language however you wanted to deceive Leo?" "A six-year-old child is already sensible. If you talk to him properly, he will understand." At that time, I said I was leaving, but he told Leo I said to go back to his room and sleep. If Leo woke up the next day, saw an empty room, and realized he had been lied to, wouldn't he be heartbroken? "Translate however I wanted?" Arthur let out a low laugh, meaning unclear: "You don't seriously think Leo doesn't understand sign language, do you?" I was taken aback by his question, just inexplicably recalling Leo's tense and bizarre reaction in the hallway. Arthur said slowly: "A kid who slept hugging a sign language book when he could barely speak... A person who, relying on the fact that others couldn't understand, used sign language to mock other kids in kindergarten when they had conflicts, eventually starting a fight and getting his parents called in—" "Do you think he doesn't understand sign language?" I was dumbfounded. So, Leo was angry when he came to pick me up, not because of the impatient honking of the traffic jam. But because he understood that I meant I would leave immediately, and that's why he was angry? But I felt something was off. Whether it was Arthur's tone of voice or Leo's eager attitude to be close to me, it all felt very strange. Could it be that after six years, the male and female leads were only keeping up appearances, and their relationship had fallen apart? After all, it was so late, and Serena still hadn't come home. I pursed my lips, deciding to test the waters. "Don't worry. After so many years, I've long since moved on." "I won't disturb you and Serena." Arthur frowned slightly, visibly stunned. "What does she have to do with this?" But he quickly reacted, as if my previous desperate attempts to escape had finally been explained. "You don't seriously think there's something between her and me, do you?" Arthur lowered his eyelids and fished a watch out of his pocket. He hadn't had time to switch his SIM card back; that smartwatch belonged to Leo. "You said you've moved on. Fine." He pulled up a text message and held it in front of me. "If you really didn't like me anymore, didn't care anymore, why would you send me a message like this?" A familiar block of text appeared on the small screen, casting shadows in the light. My breath hitched. There could be no one more familiar with this text than me. That text message that failed to send in the massive fire six years ago— The him of today, had received it.
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