There are so many stories in this world, and I’m not sure how much of a role I play in mine. I know I’m not particularly likable, nor am I as genuinely kind and courteous as I appear to be. I’m vain, extravagant, and sensitive. I can’t match Dong Xi’s truly good nature, nor can I reach Long Qi’s pure malice. I’m stuck in the middle, neither here nor there, spending most of my life enduring.

But even so, I still refuse to be a supporting character.

I went to find Jin Yiken when the likes on my photos broke a thousand—just like when I was in fourth grade and got bullied by older kids from the same school, crying as I went to his classroom to find him. This time I clutched my laptop, trembling as I stood before him. His long-standing indifference finally cracked because of me. He snatched the mouse from my hand and swiftly began undoing the damage, but it was already too late. So many familiar and unfamiliar user IDs flooded into my profile. They commented on me, copied me, pasted me, circulated me, enthusiastically spectating my downfall.

Through my tears, I said, “It was an accident.”

But he definitely didn’t believe me. He threw the mouse on the desk, didn’t give me a second glance, and walked away with my laptop.

This reminded me of when we were young.

He barely paid attention to girls back then. Compared to dealing with me, he preferred hanging out with Si Bolin, tinkering with toolboxes and plotting to blow up swimming pools. For this, both of them got beaten plenty by their families. It wasn’t until middle school that he shot up in height and became strikingly handsome, and his antics grew more varied. The girls’ budding feelings were pried open by him one by one. He was fully aware of it but deliberately ignored it all. The more he disregarded matters of the heart, the more wildly these sweet, sour, tender feelings grew.

That was when our two families’ relationship was at its closest. His father had undergone major surgery and received one of my father’s kidneys.

His father was a big shot—so important that his illness made the news and affected the stock market. My father was his father’s old comrade-in-arms. Before middle school, he and I were childhood sweethearts. After middle school, our underlying relationship became a friendly exchange for that kidney, and his mother had always wanted an obedient, well-behaved daughter like me. Jin Yiken’s self-awareness and opinions were too strong, so she was always satisfied with me, who acted according to her wishes.

Before becoming the perfect girlfriend, I first became the perfect daughter-in-law.

What a pity.

I continued, “I sent a copy to Mom too.”

He stopped at the bedroom door. I loved looking at his back—restrained, yet helpless with me, yet unable to leave me alone. He didn’t even have the desire to turn his head and respond. After pausing for a second or two, he continued out of my room.

Within half an hour, calls came from both my family and his. He answered; I refused to.

Jin Yiken had one quality my mother particularly liked: he knew how to talk properly and respect his elders. No matter how arrogant or domineering he was among his peers, he always had the appropriate patience and persuasiveness with elders. He didn’t like me, but out of consideration for both families’ relationship, he had to call my mother “Auntie.” He successfully broke up with me, but even if the business deal is done, human relationships remain. His mother recognized me as her goddaughter, so by seniority he was my brother. Therefore, he had to look after everything I did in England. If I fell into depravity, he was responsible.

So when my mother and his mother made international calls to scold him for two hours, he had to listen.

That’s right—he wasn’t angry because my provocative photos were being ogled by the whole school. As someone who knew how to have fun, he simply didn’t care what I turned into. In his eyes, these photos were just at the level of what Long Qi was doing in her first year of high school.

Long Qi. Damn Long Qi.

I never meant to imitate her.

From the first time I drank five bottles of beer, threw a drunken tantrum, and bit Jin Yiken hard on the waist, I knew this would be the main theme of my life in England. I loved him. Since the fake persona I had worn for eighteen years had already made him sick of me, why should I continue suppressing the real me inside?

That version of me who was friendly enough to get along with anyone, who read regularly, who frowned at anything improper—she disappeared the moment he provoked me at the airport before coming to England.

I have a temper too. I have possessiveness too. Every time you answer her phone call, every time you see her when you return home, I’ll find new ways to make a scene. I hold you in the palm of my hand and dote on you—if you don’t want this kind of love, then nobody gets to have it easy.

I really wanted to be that decisive.

But who was Jin Yiken? He just had to casually glance at me, and I felt completely seen through, inside and out. My little schemes had no effect on him whatsoever, yet his every subtle detail could still make me weak. I hid his phone, deleted his call records and message logs—he knew every time but said nothing. Rather than loathing me, he preferred treating me like an invisible person.

Until this time, when he finally showed a little emotion.

And the moment he showed emotion, I backed down.

The photo incident got him quite a scolding. Later he learned his lesson and began efficiently preventing secondary distribution. All posts about me on the school forum were deleted, all IDs speculating about me were banned. His practiced skill and efficiency made me suspect he had done the same thing for someone else before.

This made me suddenly realize: only when I fell into depravity would he be willing, out of humanitarian spirit, to pay me a little more attention.