2

The food on the table had gone cold, and neither of us had an appetite.

He picked up his bag to leave. "Don't think you can become her," he said. "You're not worthy! And don't even think about leaving me. It's impossible!"

I knew him. If he said something was impossible, then I truly had no chance of escaping his control.

But what was the point of living like this, without dignity, like a puppet? It felt like I wasn't even a person anymore.

I sat at the table, stared at the cold dishes, and picked up my chopsticks to eat alone.

When someone doesn't love you, no matter how hard you try, you can never warm their heart.

After my shower, I sat alone on the sofa, about to dry my hair and go to sleep.

A call came from Julian Sterling. In a commanding tone, he ordered me to get to his friend's bar right away.

With my hair still wet, I called a car and rushed over.

Arriving at the private room, I pushed open the door. Inside, multicolored lights flashed, and the music was so loud it was painful.

One by one, the people inside stopped what they were doing to stare at me. The weight of their gazes was deeply uncomfortable.

My eyes landed on Julian Sterling. Beside him sat a young, beautiful girl.

The girl was nestled against him, looking petite and adorable.

She was exquisitely dressed and made up; by comparison, I looked ridiculous.

"President Sterling, I can't believe Sister actually came!"

The girl said this from his embrace, her voice syrupy sweet, before covering her mouth to giggle.

"I told you she's boring. Not like you. You're the best at making me happy."

As he spoke, he leaned in and brushed his lips against the girl's.

The girl feigned coyness, tapping his chest with a little pout.

I watched their intimate display, my heart filled with disgust.

I clenched my fists and said coldly from the doorway, "If there's nothing else, I'm leaving."

I was about to leave when he called out, "Stop! Come pour a drink for my baby here."

I drew a sharp breath, slowly turned, and met his eyes, unmoving.

His eyes were full of mockery; as he looked at me, there wasn't a shred of pity in his gaze.

"If you won't pour the drink, then drink this bottle!"

I knew if I didn't drink it, I had no hope of leaving here today.

I walked over, picked up the bottle, and began to chug it down.

"Cough... cough! Can I go now?"

He pushed the girl away, muttering, "How boring."

He straightened his clothes, tossed a stack of bills onto the table, and said to the girl, "Don't come looking for me again."

Then he left, leaving behind the girl with a look of disbelief on her face, and me in my wretched state.

3

After that day, I rested at home for a long time.

Then one day, the weather was beautiful, so I decided to go hiking.

I didn't tell him. I just wanted to quietly enjoy the experience by myself.

I walked along the mountain path by myself, a hiking pack on my back, breathing in the fresh air.

The forest was silent. The only sounds I could hear were my own soft panting, the rustling of the wind, and the occasional, long cry of a bird.

I was getting a little tired, so I leaned against a tree and sat down cross-legged. It was a relaxed posture, not a particularly graceful one.

I was so tired of playing the part of a frail, timid woman all day, every day—someone who shrinks away from everything.

'I just want to be myself, to sit however I want without being constrained.'

As I took out my water bottle to get a drink, the bushes rustled. I vaguely saw a fluffy, adorable tail give a gentle wag.

I put down my water bottle and crept in that direction, afraid I'd scare the little creature off.

The distance between us shrank. I didn't know if the little thing would suddenly bolt, and every nerve in my body was taut. Then, I lunged for it.

The moment I touched the patch of grass, it gave way, plunging me into a trap twelve feet deep.

I felt myself falling, my arm scraping hard against the trap's rough wall.

Before I could even register the pain, my head slammed against the side of the pit. My consciousness vanished, and I blacked out.

When I opened my eyes again, the first thing I saw was a completely unfamiliar place.

I was in a small bamboo house. It wasn't spacious, but it was very bright, with a fresh and elegant simplicity.

I was lying on a surprisingly large bed pushed against a wall. On that wall was a small, slightly ajar window. A gentle breeze made it flutter, creating a crisp, clear sound.

I tried to sit up slowly, using my hands to support myself.

The moment I put weight on my hands, a sharp pain shot through me. I cried out and fell back heavily, landing on my injured arm.

My hand ached, but my entire arm felt as if a thousand needles, dense as raindrops, were piercing me to the bone.

I began to sob. My weak cries echoed in every corner of the little bamboo house. Outside, the gentle sound of rain began to mingle with my weeping, creating a strange and different mood in the quiet mountain setting.