Ye Sanqi's funeral was a simple affair.
In this world, Ye Sanqi had no blood relatives left.
Most of the mourners were his construction site coworkers and a few neighbors.
As they watched the girl in coarse mourning clothes standing in the funeral hall without shedding a single tear, they couldn't help sighing behind her back.
"That child must be in shock."
"Poor thing, losing her father so young."
Ye Ruoxi wasn't in shock.
She simply couldn't cry.
Her tears seemed to have dried up completely that night.
Her world had been drained of all color, leaving only an impenetrable, suffocating gray.
She watched Zhang Cuilan.
Dressed in mourning attire, the woman wailed hysterically before the coffin, her voice hoarse, collapsing several times in exaggerated grief.
Neighbors rushed to comfort her.
Ye Ruoxi knew those tears were for show.
Because just the night before,
she had seen Zhang Cuilan in her room,
counting the money in that envelope over and over by moonlight streaming through the window.
The compensation money, combined with donations from the construction site and coworkers,
totaled 103,627 yuan and 50 cents.
Ye Ruoxi had an excellent memory—one glance was enough to sear that number into her mind.
For this household, it was a fortune.
When Zhang Cuilan counted the money, she didn't cry.
There wasn't even a trace of sorrow on her face.
The day after Ye Sanqi was buried,
Little Ma came again.
He carried a net bag of fruit and a small red plastic pouch containing money.
His eyes were still red.
"Little sister..."
He crouched down, unable to meet Ye Ruoxi's gaze,
"This is just a small token from me. Buy yourself something nice."
He tried to tuck the money into her pocket.
Zhang Cuilan charged out from the house and shoved him away violently.
"What are you doing here? Come to laugh at our misery?" she shrieked,
"You jinx! If it weren't for you, my Ye would still be alive! Give him back to me!"
She snatched the money and fruit from Little Ma's hands and hurled them to the ground.
"We don't want your filthy money! Get out! Never come back!"
Little Ma's face flushed crimson, his lips trembling wordlessly.
He glanced at Ye Ruoxi's expressionless face.
Finally, he fled in humiliation.
Ye Ruoxi watched the scattered bills being blown away by the wind.
She also watched that retreating, broken figure disappear into the distance.
She knew that the last echo of kindness her father left in this world had just been severed.
The pillar of their household had truly collapsed.
Zhang Cuilan's indifference toward Ye Ruoxi quickly curdled into venom.
She no longer bothered to hide it.
"Bad luck charm!"
"If it weren't for you, your father would still be alive!"
"He only rushed off work that day because he wanted to buy you some stupid cake—that's why the accident happened!"
She piled all the blame onto Ye Ruoxi.
Onto that nonexistent cream cake.
Ye Ruoxi didn't argue.
She learned silence.
Because she knew any response would only invite more vicious curses, or worse—a beating.
She became the most superfluous presence in that house.
A living, breathing testament to guilt.
The 100,000 yuan wasn't an insignificant sum.
Yet it didn't sustain the household for long.
Zhang Cuilan made a trip to the city.
When she returned, a gaudy gold necklace hung around her throat,
glinting obnoxiously in the sunlight.
She admired herself in the mirror for a long time,
wearing a satisfied smile that had been absent for years.
But the joy was fleeting.
She started gathering with other women to play mahjong.
At first, it was small stakes—just a few yuan per game. Then the bets grew steadily larger.
She lost more than she won.
The gold necklace soon shrank to a gold ring.
Then dwindled to a pair of tiny earrings.
Finally, nothing remained.
The money flowed away across the mahjong table like water.
Once again, the household plunged into hardship.
This time, there was no one left to hold up their crumbling sky.
Zhang Cuilan had to find work.
With no particular skills, she could only wash dishes at restaurants.
Towers of greasy plates loomed like mountains.
She lasted less than a month before quitting, complaining it was too exhausting.
After a screaming match with the owner, she walked out.
Eventually, Zhang Cuilan used the last portion of the compensation money to buy a secondhand covered tricycle.
She stocked up on pots, pans, and some foldable tables,
setting up a spicy skewer stall at the night market.
Rumor had it she'd even purchased a secret recipe from an established shop.
From that day on, Ye Ruoxi's life split cleanly in two.
By day, she was the silent, top-ranking student at school.
By night, she became the nimble little helper at the night market—skewering ingredients, washing endless bowls.
After school each day, she had to complete all the household chores first.
Sweeping floors. Washing clothes for two.
Then she'd follow Zhang Cuilan, riding that clattering tricycle to the night market stall.
Her hands were still small, her fingernails tiny.
Yet they had to skewer slippery cubes of tofu, kelp, and potato slices onto icy bamboo sticks.
Sometimes the sharp ends stabbed under her nails—white-hot pain shooting up her fingers.
She didn't dare cry out. Just sucked at the wound briefly before continuing.
In winter,
the night market wind sliced at her face like knives.
She'd plunge bowls crusted with red oil and broth into freezing water,
scrubbing them over and over.
Her hands soon developed frostbite.
First swelling red, then purpling, finally splitting open in bloody cracks.
Submerging them in water felt like being stabbed by countless needles simultaneously.
She didn't dare complain.
Just gritted her teeth and shoved her hands deeper into the icy water.
Until they went completely numb, losing all sensation.
Then it didn't hurt anymore.
Her dinners usually consisted of customers' leftovers.
Zhang Cuilan would collect the untouched, relatively intact skewers into a bowl.
"Eat! Then get back to work!"
Sometimes it was overcooked vegetables.
Sometimes just a few unwanted sausage sticks.
Ye Ruoxi always ate quickly.
Then resumed weaving between greasy tables—clearing dishes, wiping surfaces.
Closing time rarely came before 11 PM.
She'd help load everything back onto the tricycle.
At home, she still had to wash and prep all the ingredients for the next day.
By the time she finally collapsed into bed,
her bones felt shattered.
Yet at 6 AM sharp, she'd rise again for school.
This life had no end in sight.
Physical exhaustion and emotional abuse pressed down on her like twin mountains, crushing her breathless.
But she didn't break.
She grew quieter. Tougher.
She knew tears were useless.
In this household, tears were the cheapest currency.
They bought no sympathy—only invited Zhang Cuilan's sharper barbs.
"What are you crying for? I'm not dead yet! Save your tears for my funeral!"
e school belle recognized by the whole school, a genius girl from the kendo club. She also has a hidden identity, the youngest legendary demon hunter. Chen Shuo just transmigrated and found himself turned into a weak, helpless little vampire. He was caught by Su Xiyen and taken home at the very beginning. Since then, Chen Shuo's life creed only had two items. "First, classmate Su Xiyen is always right." "Second, if classmate Su Xiyen is wrong, please refer back to item one." Many years later, Chen Shuo, who had turned back into a human, led a pair of twins to appear in front of all the vampires to share the secret of how he turned back into a human. "It's simple, I tricked a female demon hunter into becoming my wife!"
reezy rom-com) Good news: Jiang Liu is quite the ladies' man. Bad news: He’s lost his memory. Lying in a hospital bed, Jiang Liu listens to a parade of goddesses spouting "absurd claims," feeling like the world is one giant game of Werewolf. "Jiang Liu, I’m your first love." "Jiang Liu, you’re my boyfriend—she’s your ex." "Jiang Liu, we’re close friends who’ve shared a bed, remember?" "Jiang Liu, I want to have your baby." The now-lucid Jiang Liu is convinced this must be some elaborate scam... until someone drops the bombshell: "The day before you lost your memory, you confessed your feelings—and got into a relationship." Jiang Liu is utterly baffled. So... who the hell is his actual girlfriend?! ... Before recovering his memories, Jiang Liu must navigate this minefield of lies and sincerity, fighting to protect himself from these women’s schemes. But things spiral even further out of control as more people show up at his doorstep—each with increasingly unhinged antics. On the bright side, the memories he lost due to overwhelming trauma seem to be resurfacing. Great news, right? So why are they all panicking now?
Cheng's father told him he was getting remarried—to a wealthy woman. Cao Cheng realized his time had finally come: he was about to become a second-generation rich kid. Sure, it might be a watered-down version, but hey, at least he'd have status now, right? The wealthy woman also had four daughters!! Which meant, starting today, Cao Cheng gained four stunning older sisters?? But that wasn't even the whole story... "My name is Cao Cheng—'Cheng' as in 'honest, smooth-talking gentleman'!"
ts me of treason?" "Correct. The host must return to the capital and gradually build up influence." "Wait—I have half a million soldiers, and you want me to go back to the capital to 'build influence'?" "Host, you are currently the Northern Garrison General, loyal to the Great Xia Dynasty." "Of course I am loyal to Great Xia! Absolutely loyal!" "But you keep referring to yourself as 'We'..." "Never mind the details! Summon all the regional commanders and military officers! We suspect treacherous officials are manipulating the court! They shall march with Us to the capital and purge the corrupt!" "......"
