Scumbag System Donghua

In the third year of our marriage, my husband's first love got a divorce. He gave her the forty-five thousand dollars we had saved for a house because she was left with nothing and struggling to make ends meet. I urged him to ask for the money back, but he pointed at my face and angrily shouted, "You used to be so gentle and virtuous—what happened? Why are you so selfish, so shallow now?" "Is forty-five thousand dollars really worth you making a fuss over?" "Chloe is starting over with nothing, raising a child on her own. Don't you feel any sympathy for her?" Fine. He was noble, he was merciful. I did not argue further, because the one who needed money for cancer treatment was him, not me.

I was reborn back to 1975, when the child in my womb was three months old. I did not tell anyone and quietly had an abortion. However, I still wrapped cotton around my belly every day, pretending the baby was still there. In my past life, my husband Declan Huxley's childhood sweetheart Jane Patton and I gave birth on the same day. She had a healthy, ordinary baby boy. But my child looked nothing like us—he was mixed-race, with features of the Valorian people. Declan and I were both locals, so there was no way our son could look like this. Enraged, Declan scolded me in front of everyone, accusing me of cheating on him and having a disgraceful affair with a Valorian. No matter how many times I explained, no one believed me, and I became the shameful woman everyone pointed at. Worse still, Declan reported me and handed in some foreign letters he found at home, which led to me being taken by federal agents and sentenced as a spy. I spent ten years in prison, and when I finally walked out, I was nothing but skin and bones. Meanwhile, Declan had climbed the ranks for his so-called loyalty to the country. He held Jane's hand and brought along my real son, Seth Huxley, then threw 500 dollars at me like it was charity. He said, "Back then, Jane was accidentally deceived by someone else and gave birth to that brat. Unlike you, she has a gentle nature and couldn't endure hardship, so I had no choice but to switch your children. "This money is payment for your ten years and your reputation. You have a criminal record, and I already filed for divorce long ago to be with Jane. Seth also thinks you're not worthy of me, so you better take care of yourself." Seth also looked at me with disgust. "Mommy Jane treats me very well, and she's not like you; she's never been to prison. I don't want a mother like you!" When I learned the truth, the fury was so overwhelming that I had a stroke and died in despair. In this new life, I want to see how they plan to scheme against me when the child is already gone.

My older sister gloated when we heard that a student was threatening to jump. "Is that your daughter?" I calmly sipped my cup of boba tea. That was because I knew the one jumping wasn't my daughter. It was hers.

I run into my former sister-in-law, whom I haven't seen in ages, during a prenatal checkup at the hospital. Wynne Jenkins glances at my belly. And just like she always does, her face crinkles with disdain as she starts nagging me. "Look at you, wandering around with a pregnant belly at your age," she hollers. "What if something happens to my baby nephew? Can't you be a little more sensible and stop making Sean worry all the time?" She must have forgotten. A year ago, Mom was gravely ill. Her only wish was to see me married with children. I staked everything and proposed to Sean Jenkins. On our big day, I waited from dawn until nightfall—only to receive a 30-second voice message from him. "I won't show up at the ceremony, and I won't marry you. This is what you get for bullying Lav." Mom was so enraged by Sean's recklessness that she suffered a heart attack and passed away. After taking care of her funeral, I erased every trace of myself. With what little I had left, I fled Horton—while Sean was still abroad, skiing with Lavender Quinn. And yet now, Wynne says, "Sean spends more than two weeks every month flying around looking for you. He's lost nearly 20 pounds in less than a year. "He's been waiting for you, Janelle. Now that you're back, please stay and build a family with him." I smirk and raise my hand, flaunting the ring on my finger. "Sorry, I like to keep a low profile. I'm already married, but we kept the ceremony simple. That's why you didn't know."

For eight years, I stayed by John Harlem's side, even without a title. I was there when he recovered and rose from his wheelchair, and I was there when he clawed his way out of depression. I thought that one day, if I endured long enough, he would see my sincerity and affection for him. And we might end up together. But when his first love returned to the country, all my hopes turned into delusions. He told me to put away feelings I should never have had and remain by his side as nothing more than his "sister". For her, he deceived me, humiliated me, and pushed me away. What he never knew was that in helping him heal, I had absorbed far too much of his darkness. The very day he stopped taking his medication, I was diagnosed with severe depression. In order to save myself, I chose to let him go… and married his uncle instead. But at my wedding, he set aside his pride and dignity, dropped to his knees before everyone, and begged me for nothing more than a single glance.

When Nathan comes to pick me up on the day of the wedding, he loses his footing and falls down a flight of stairs that's several feet high. He's not badly injured, but he bumps his head on the steps and ends up with jumbled memories. He mistakenly thinks that I am his first love, who had once hurt him. He reacts violently whenever he sees me. At this time, I found out that I am pregnant. The doctor says that the good news might be able to awaken his memories partially. I rush off to find him, holding the medical report. However, I accidentally overhear the conversation between him and his friends. "Nate is always full of ideas. Now he's even claiming that his memories are jumbled up! As long as you don't get bored, Olivia will never be able to force you to get married." "Don't spout nonsense. I do love Liv, and she's the only one that I'll ever love. I'll just have fun for half a month more before I settle down and get married." "Half a month? That isn't even enough time to flirt with all the female models at the club. Can you really be satisfied with that?" Nathan's expression turns cold as he snaps, "I'm not an irresponsible jerk. Liv and I have been together for so many years. "I'm definitely going to marry her. Call someone now! I want the one from yesterday with a tiny waist and a big bottom. It excites me to look at her!" Trembling, I tear up the notice from the hospital and turn to leave.

My husband forces me to donate my remaining kidney to his true love. He wants to save her from death by uremia. I try to tell him that I have kidney failure—I'll die if I donate my kidney. However, he roars, "Stop playing your jealous games when Shawna is so gravely ill! Don't you have a heart?" Under his forcefulness, I'm taken to the hospital to get my kidney removed. Ultimately, I die in a corner of the hospital.

When I hear my boyfriend, Terence Bowen, is trapped in a house fire, I immediately rush back to save him. However, after dragging him out with all my strength, I realize it's just a dummy. Laughter erupts from the house next door. "Ariana Brock is such a fool! She fell for it again!" Through a half-open window, I spot Terence lounging on the couch, casually scrolling through his phone. He looks completely fine. "That's the 47th prank we've pulled on her. Three more to go and we're done." "Serves her right. She shouldn't have stolen Bethany Howard's scholarship. Bethany is the one Terence actually cares about. That's why he decided to fake a relationship with Ariana to get revenge 50 times over. Too bad the game will end soon." I bend over, gasping for air. All this time, the relationship I've worked so hard to protect is nothing but a game to them.

I fought with my husband, Alessio, the Don of the Moretti family, over the mistress who'd given him twin sons. The next day, he stormed into my bedroom and put a gun to my head. "Did you take my sons?! You vicious bitch!" While I was still in shock, he ordered his men to lock my eight-year-old daughter, Lucia, in the icehouse for three whole days of "training." He gave me an ultimatum: Lucia would stay there until I brought him his sons. Lucia froze to death in that icehouse. I returned with her death certificate in my hand, my heart a hollow stone in my chest, only to find him moving his mistress and their sons into the home we once shared. He was cheerful, dismissing the whole thing as a misunderstanding. He even had the audacity to tell me to go get Lucia to meet her "new little brothers." I just stared, tears tracking paths down my face, the life inside me extinguished. It wasn't until that thin piece of paper—the death certificate—fluttered to the floor that the color drained from Alessio's face. He finally realized Lucia was gone. Killed by his own blind, cruel pride.

In my past life, my boyfriend's childhood sweetheart, Kimberly Thatcher, claimed to be Lady Luck. She insisted on handing out sachets to keep our team safe for a hike. I, Priscilla Jensen, caught the scent and realized the sachets were stuffed with herbs that would attract wolves. So, I stepped in to stop her, saving everyone from an attack. But Kimberly thought I was looking down on her sachets, and that I was targeting her on purpose. Though she was the leader, she stormed off from the group in anger. We searched the forest under the raging storm. In the end, someone broke a leg, someone else was strangled by poisonous vines, and my shoulder was torn open. By dawn, we found Kimberly's corpse at the bottom of a valley. … On the seventh day after her death, her memorial service became an ambush. While everyone mourned for her, their eyes were fixed on me. My boyfriend, Fabian Lowell, was the first to lash out. He ripped off his bandage, revealing his wound. "If you hadn't stopped Kimberly from giving us those sachets, none of this would have happened! How dare you show up to her memorial service?" he yelled. Everyone turned to glare daggers at me. Suddenly, someone shouted, "It's all your fault! You're the reason we ended up like this! Go to hell!" In the next second, they hurled a pot of boiling stew at me. Then they set the private room ablaze and burned me alive. … When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day of the hike.