The dusk in Boston came late.
The wind along the Charles River carried the coolness of early summer, blowing past the red brick buildings lining the streets.
Lin Wanwan walked out of the Berklee College of Music building with a wooden guitar strapped to her back.
She was wearing a loose, light gray knit sweater, simple jeans, and canvas shoes. Her shoulder-length short hair was slightly messy from the wind, and she casually tucked a strand behind her ear.
Half an hour earlier, her advisor, Mr. Smith, had just finished listening to the composition demo she submitted.
The typically strict white-haired old man had rarely taken off his reading glasses, given her a thumbs-up, and repeated "Excellent" three times.
Lin Wanwan had simply bowed in thanks.
She no longer had the urge to immediately call someone to brag when she got a good grade like she used to.
She walked two blocks and pushed open the door of a bakery on the corner.
The shop was filled with the sweet smell of butter and vanilla.
"I'll take a strawberry cupcake," Lin Wanwan said, pointing at the smallest one in the glass counter.
The staff member quickly packed it in a paper box and handed it to her.
"Five dollars."
Lin Wanwan paid, walked out with the box in hand, and then turned into the 24-hour convenience store next door.
Behind the counter was the same plump white woman, Mary. When Lin Wanwan first moved in six months ago, they had argued over a scanning mistake, but oddly enough, they’d grown familiar since then.
Lin Wanwan went to the cooler, grabbed two bottles of Corona beer, and placed them on the counter.
Mary raised an eyebrow at her.
"No milk today?"
"Today’s my birthday," Lin Wanwan said, pulling out some change.
Mary took the money and glanced at the calendar on the wall.
"Twenty? By the law here, you’re still a year away from buying alcohol."
Lin Wanwan didn’t say anything; she just looked at her quietly.
Mary shrugged, bagged the two bottles of beer, and pushed them over.
"Lucky you—my daughter got her driver’s license today, so I’m in a good mood. Happy birthday, little Asian girl."
"Thanks."
Lin Wanwan picked up the plastic bag and the cake, pushed open the convenience store door, and stepped into Boston’s deepening dusk.
Back at her brownstone apartment in Back Bay, Lin Wanwan unlocked the door.
The room was dark, quiet, and lonely.
She closed the door behind her, leaned the guitar against the wall, and changed into her slippers.
In the living room, a piano stood against the wall, with sheets of manuscript paper covered in musical notes scattered on the floor.
Lin Wanwan set her things on the kitchen island, then turned and walked to the windowsill.
On the windowsill sat a cactus.
Originally in a cheap little pot worth fifteen yuan, she had transferred it into a slightly larger white ceramic pot half a month ago.
Over these six months, despite Boston’s harsh winter and the frequent heating problems, this cactus had stubbornly held on. Not only had it survived, but it had also grown a full size rounder, with spines that had become harder and sharper.
Lin Wanwan picked up the white ceramic pot with both hands and carried it to the center of the dining table.
She pulled out a chair and sat down, opening the cake box.
It was a cupcake the size of a palm, topped with half a fresh strawberry.
Lin Wanwan stared at it for a while, then took the two Coronas out of the plastic bag.
There was no bottle opener in the apartment.
She gripped one bottle by the neck, wedged the cap against the edge of the table, and slammed her palm down hard.
A soft pop sounded.
The bottle cap flew off and hit the floor.
She did the same with the other bottle.
White beer foam bubbled up from the rim, and Lin Wanwan quickly brought it to her lips and took a big gulp.
It was cold and a little bitter.
This was the first time she had drunk alcohol in six months.
She slid one bottle of beer to the opposite side of the table, right in front of the cactus.
No main lights were on in the room—only a single spotlight above the kitchen counter lit the space, casting a dim glow.
Lin Wanwan raised her own bottle and reached across gently to tap it against the other one.
A crisp clink sounded.
"Happy birthday," she said softly.
She tilted her head back and gulped down two more mouthfuls.
The bubbles churned in her stomach, making her let out a tiny burp.
Setting the bottle down, she picked up a plastic knife, aimed at the cupcake, and cut it straight down the middle.
Splitting the half strawberry along with it.
Lin Wanwan found a clean white porcelain plate, carefully moved one half of the cake onto it, and slid it over to the cactus.
"Half for you, half for me."
She picked up her half and took a small bite.
The cream was very sweet, mixing with the bitter taste of beer in her mouth—a strange combination.
Lin Wanwan swallowed, rested her chin on one hand, and stared blankly at the cactus across from her.
"Back home, it must be around eight in the evening now," she muttered to herself.
"That MossOS of yours is so amazing, even our professors at Berklee talk about it in class. Five hundred and twenty billion U.S. dollars in valuation—Boss Chen, do you have to bring ten bodyguards everywhere you go now?"
The cactus stood silently in its white ceramic pot.
Lin Wanwan looked at the spiky ball and took another sip of beer.
"Have you gotten bigger?"
She paused, her voice dropping low.
"I’ve been taking good care of myself too."
Over these six months, she had learned to change her own lightbulbs, repair the heating pipes, speak up confidently in classes full of white students, and use fluent English to turn down unwanted advances.
She was no longer the Lin Wanwan who only knew how to hide behind Chen Zhi whenever trouble came.
A year ago on this day.
That jerk who forgot her birthday had gone to the flower market early in the morning and gotten six thousand red roses, turning the hotel suite into a sea of flowers.
He had deliberately pricked his finger, held it up bleeding, and stood before her holding that fifteen-yuan cactus, pretending to be pitiful.
Lin Wanwan had cried her eyes out, her heart aching for him.
Looking back now, that guy had fooled her so many times since they were kids.
Lin Wanwan picked up her bottle and clinked it against the one across the table again.
"Chen Zhi, happy birthday," she said softly.
She tilted her head back and drank the remaining half of the beer in one go.
Drinking too fast, she started coughing violently.
Her eyes turned red, tears gathering at the corners.
She pulled out a tissue, wiped the corners of her mouth, and set the empty bottle on the table.
"Lin Wanwan, happy twentieth birthday," she said to herself.
Her phone on the table suddenly vibrated, breaking the quiet in the apartment.
Lin Wanwan grabbed it; the screen showed Su Man’s name.
She took a deep breath, steadied herself, and pressed the answer button.
"Sister Man."
"Wanwan, happy birthday." Su Man’s voice came through from across the ocean, with what sounded like road noise in the background.
"Thanks, Sister Man. Sorry for calling so late?"
"It’s 8:30 in the evening here." Su Man paused. "Are you alone in the apartment?"
"Yeah, I just finished eating the cake."
There was a two-second silence on the other end.
Su Man sighed.
"Wanwan, the one-year agreement—there are only two months left."
"I know," Lin Wanwan said, her tone very calm. "Sister Man, if there’s something you want to say, you can just say it directly."
“A few record labels in China have reached out to me, offering very generous terms. They listened to those demos you did at Berklee and were quite interested,” Su Man said. “If you’re willing, you can come back and make a comeback anytime. The market environment now is much better than it was half a year ago.”
“I haven’t made up my mind yet,” Lin Wanwan said, staring at the cactus on the table. “There are still some courses left to finish here.”
After hanging up, Lin Wanwan downed the last sip of beer.
She tossed the empty bottle into the trash can, picked up the acoustic guitar leaning against the wall, and began going over the chords of her new song over and over again.
There was no hesitation, and no confusion.
he colors of other people’s emotions. Light red meant anxiety. Gray meant exhaustion. Orange meant excitement. Yellow... meant repression. At the same time, he could gain unlimited control over one of those colors. Pale cyan: relaxation. Using this ability, he started offering “two-yuan hugs,” spending an afternoon exchanging emotional-color experiences with others. Then came his final female customer of the day— a girl whose emotional color was pure black... —— A week later, Xu Chuan had become skilled at using pale cyan—Relaxation—treating it like a bottle of menthol balm whenever he needed it. That was when he discovered he had unlocked another unlimited emotional color: Purple, the color of fear. So these emotional colors refresh every week? Fine, I take it back—I’ll never call you useless again... —— Much later, after Xu Chuan had accumulated countless emotional abilities, one night, he suddenly found himself inside someone else’s dream. There, he could use the emotional colors he possessed to paint. And in her dream, he painted her a shower of pink shooting stars, spreading across the depths of the night sky...
ng to die together with you." Lin Xuan is dead, his body thrown into the river by his scumbag lover and her accomplice. She, the president of the Su Group, is decisive, ruthless, and ice-cold. For three days and three nights, she had his body fished out of the river, and without hesitation, she kissed the bloated corpse of Lin Xuan. She laid down beside him in a cold coffin, their fingers intertwined, a smile lingering on her lips as she closed her eyes. The noble and cold-hearted woman, only bending for one man—Lin Xuan. Lin Xuan, with his golden finger, is reborn and returns to the day of his wedding to the treacherous woman. Su Qiang comes to steal the bride. Lin Xuan's eyes light up, eager to pledge his loyalty on the spot, but instead, her kiss transfers a glass of drugged wine into his mouth, causing him to pass out... 【Male Protagonist with Single Female Lead】【Yandere Tycoon】【Action-Packed】【True vs. Fake Heir】
for mindless slaughter, this isn't for you.] My name is Ye Shu, and I'm a transmigrator. It seems I'm supposed to be the protagonist, but that feels pretty unlikely. This world has been invaded by a system. The antagonists on the other side have suddenly become pure, flawless saints. The female leads have been force-fed the so-called "original plot," making them think they've been reborn. Now, everyone thinks I'm scum. Including the old lady in my ring. And here I am, in the Monster Beast Mountain Range, braising pork. To put my situation in perspective— It's as if, the moment Xiao Yan stepped into the Monster Beast Mountain Range, the Soul Emperor already knew he would become the Flame Emperor, and Yao Lao had been turned to the enemy's side. I have nothing right now. Oh wait, that's not true. I do have a white-haired loli child-bride who's the Heavenly Dao, and her only skill is acting cute. So, tell me guys... what are my chances of making it to the end?
ions, keeping it grounded and realistic】 After quitting his job, office worker Su Yang accidentally binds with the "Enjoy Life System." As the name suggests, simply by indulging in life's pleasures, he can earn random rewards from the system—no need to spend money on beautiful women or grovel before anyone. Just enjoy, and the money follows, making it all about effortless fun. The system comes with a scanning feature, allowing him to establish a favorability bond with women rated 85 points or above. Every 20-point increase in favorability unlocks additional rewards. After suffering through over twenty years of hardship, Su Yang trembles with excitement, his dull eyes suddenly gleaming with newfound hope. "Enjoy life? How hard could that be?"
