The door to the patient's room silently opened. A handsome yet indifferent-looking man strode inside, his footsteps light but purposeful. Wu Zhen's gaze swept over the frail figure lying on the hospital bed. The person before him could barely be called a man anymore—his body was nothing but skin and bones, his limbs broken, his face scarred beyond recognition. An oxygen mask covered his nose, the rhythmic beeping of the monitors the only sign that he was still clinging to life.
Wu Zhen clicked his tongue. "Tsk. Ming Ze, what a pity. Seeing you like this is... refreshing." He chuckled, his voice laced with mockery. "You should have known your place from the start. Did you really think you could compete with Ming Yu? You should be grateful he's so kind—otherwise, trash like you wouldn't even be breathing right now."
Ming Ze lay motionless, his dull, lifeless eyes fixed on the ceiling.
Wu Zhen had once pursued him, showering him with affection. At the time, Ming Ze had been naïve enough to believe it was genuine. But now, the truth was clear—Wu Zhen's so-called love had been nothing more than a cruel joke. He had only approached him because Ming Yu wanted it.
Wu Zhen pulled out his phone, scrolling through it casually before stopping at something that made his lips curl into a smirk. "Oh, I have good news for you. Your dear brother, Ming Yu, is getting engaged to Shen Ge. Isn't that wonderful?" He paused for effect, then added, "Ah, and one more thing—Auntie Chen is dead. Hit by a truck."
Ming Ze's breath hitched. His fingers trembled.
Auntie Chen… The woman who had cared for him before he returned to his so-called 'real family.' The only person who had ever truly loved him.
"No…" His throat constricted. He wanted to scream, but the only sound that escaped was a choked, animalistic growl.
Wu Zhen watched his reaction with amusement. "She kept pestering Ming Yu about your whereabouts. Poor Ming Yu—he's too delicate to deal with such stress. So I took care of it for him." He sighed dramatically. "Don't worry, I arranged a proper funeral. Such a pitiful woman."
Ming Ze's eyes burned with hatred. He knew—he knew—that Wu Zhen was the one who orchestrated the accident. His body shook with rage, but he was powerless. His once-strong limbs were now useless, his body no different from a discarded doll. Tears streamed down his face, but he could do nothing.
Wu Zhen leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Rest assured, you'll be seeing her soon."
With a twisted smile, he reached down and pulled the oxygen mask off Ming Ze's face.
Instantly, his lungs burned. He gasped, his body convulsing as he struggled for air. Panic clawed at him, but there was no one to help. No one would come. His own parents had abandoned him, leaving him to die alone.
As his vision blurred, his thoughts drifted.
Auntie Chen… I'm sorry.
If I had another chance… I would never let this happen.
Then, darkness swallowed him whole.
---
The Void
Ming Ze felt… weightless.
He was no longer in the hospital. Instead, he stood in an endless abyss, the world around him shrouded in darkness.
Where am I?
A faint glow flickered in the distance. Cautiously, he moved toward it, his footsteps silent against the unseen ground. As he approached, the light solidified into a stone platform, where a single book floated in midair.
A book?
Hesitantly, he reached out. The cover bore an unfamiliar title:
"The Cute Young Master is Everyone's Favorite."
His heart pounded as he flipped it open. Page after page, he read.
Then, his hands trembled.
This world… It's a novel?
Ming Yu was the protagonist—the beloved child of fate. Kind. Cute. Intelligent. Untouchable.
And he… He was just a disposable villain. A cannon fodder destined to fail.
No wonder. No matter how hard he tried to change, something always forced him onto a path of destruction. No wonder Ming Yu always emerged unscathed, no matter what. The world itself was written in his favor.
Ming Ze's body shook with laughter—empty, bitter laughter.
It had never been a fair fight.
A sudden chill spread through him. His fingers turned transparent. His body… his very existence… was fading.
No! Not yet! Not yet!!!!
He tried to hold on, but it was too late. The darkness swallowed him once again—
---
April 16, 20XX
Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over the small bedroom.
Ming Ze stirred. His eyelids fluttered before snapping open.
He bolted upright. His breath came fast and ragged. He was… breathing.
Disoriented, he looked around. The room was familiar—too familiar. The study desk, the bunk beds, the wardrobe in the corner… This was the dorm he had stayed in during university.
His hands clenched the blanket. Hands.
Smooth. Whole. Not the chapped, skeletal hands he remembered.
He stumbled out of bed, rushing to the bathroom. His reflection stared back at him—young, unscarred. High cheekbones, long lashes framing hazel eyes, soft lips, and flawless white skin.
He looked… beautiful. Untouched by suffering.
His heart pounded. He grabbed the phone from the bedside table and checked the date.
April 16.
The second year after he moved into the Ming household.
He had returned.
Memories of his past life flashed through his mind—the pain, the betrayal, the helplessness.
His hands curled into fists.
Not this time.
A dark glint flickered in his eyes. The fear, the pain, the humiliation he suffered in his last life—he would make them all pay.
---