The Story Of Yanxi Palace

My wife, Lindsey Kelsey, suffers from an aversion to intimacy. For ten years of marriage, she pushed me away again and again. Then, on our anniversary, she abandoned me and, in front of the crowd, kissed another man with reckless passion before the two of them walked hand in hand into a luxury hotel. Afterward, Lindsey brazenly declared that a real man should be magnanimous, not petty. Magnanimous? Then I wish them both eternal bliss—may they be bound so tightly they can never break free from one another. Later, I handed Lindsey the divorce papers with a blank expression. I was determined to walk away from her. But Lindsey went mad when she realized she couldn't find me anymore.

My childhood friend, whom I hadn’t contacted for years, kept calling nonstop during an important meeting. After the meeting, he spoke in a sharp tone. “Do you think you’re too big for your britches? I’m getting engaged and you’re not even coming back to help out. Do I have to invite you?” I was representing my country at an international scientific forum, so I could only decline politely. Unexpectedly, he turned all haughty. “Fine then. If you’re not coming back, then just send me a gift with four circles and I’ll let it slide. Four circles? Thinking he meant ten thousand with four zeroes, I immediately agreed. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you ten thousand dollars as a wedding gift.” “Ten grand? Who the hell are you kidding? “My wife is the eldest daughter of the Jeffersons, the most prestigious family in Cirrus. Only the most distinguished people are on the guest list. Seeing that we’re old friends, I’m letting you attend. It’s your great honor!” He cursed angrily and sent me the invitation. I was struck dumb the moment I opened it. My aloof ice queen of a wife, who kept strangers at bay, was locked in a passionate kiss with her arms wrapped around my childhood friend’s waist. “Four zeroes, huh? How about four wreaths?” My gaze darkened as I clutched my phone. Four funeral wreaths ought to count as four circles, too!

My college dormmate, who spread nasty rumors about me, sends me an e-invitation. "I'm marrying the richest man in the country and will soon be a trophy wife—I'll be leagues above you. Seeing as we were once dormmates, I'll begrudgingly allow you to be my bridesmaid. Don't miss this chance!" I frown. What is wrong with Jasmine Teach? I'm the country's richest person. When did a man overtake me? I want to block her number and delete the conversation, but I check the e-invitation to be sure. I'm stunned when I see the photo of her husband-to-be. Isn't that Harold Jackson, my husband? He's supposed to be on a business trip. My lips curve in a cold smile, and I type a response while gnashing my teeth. "I'd be honored to be your bridesmaid. I'll prepare a huge surprise for you, too."

I poured my heart and soul into securing a big deal for my wife's law firm. But when I stepped out for a quick coffee break, she fired me on the spot, claiming I'd gone AWOL for too long. "New company rule: ten minutes away from your desk, and you're out. You were gone for ten minutes and five seconds. Now grab your stuff and leave." I sneered and flipped the script, turning over proof of her siphoning funds to buy her intern boy a Maybach to the police. She thought she could burn bridges with me, but this bridge didn't crumble so easily.

My sister-in-law is eight months pregnant. One day, she gets pushed to the ground and starts bleeding heavily. She's then taken to the hospital right away. As I drive by, I quickly roll up the window and pretend not to notice. I step on the accelerator and speed away. In my past life, though, things were different. The moment I saw her collapse, I sprang into action and took her to the hospital without delay. She was in critical condition. After the heavy bleeding, she developed amniotic fluid embolism. My husband was the city's top obstetrician. Thus, I called him urgently, pleading for him to come straight to the hospital. However, he accused me of jealousy. He was having dinner with his first love's family, after all. He claimed that I was exploiting my sister-in-law's accident to force him to come back. By the time my in-laws arrived, my sister-in-law had already succumbed to the amniotic fluid embolism. Her family blamed me for her death, convinced I had stirred trouble with my husband and brought about her demise. Having just returned from out of town, my brother-in-law believed their accusations without question. Overcome with grief, he stabbed me to death at the funeral. Opening my eyes again, I realize I've been transported back to the very day my sister-in-law is knocked down.

As a hopeless romantic and a trusting fool, I never saw it coming. The man who once swore he loved me to the bone ended up in bed with the very girl I had been supporting—a poor, sickly girl who played the part well. He didn’t stop there. He convinced me to donate my kidney to save her, knowing full well it meant losing our unborn child. Together, they wove a twisted plan to rob my family of everything, drowning us in insurmountable debt. In the end, my mother and I had nowhere to turn but the rooftop. The last thing I saw before jumping was a flood of crimson, and the agony that consumed me was unforgettable. Yet, when I opened my eyes again, I was back—ten minutes before I made the fateful decision to help that girl. This time, things will be different.

After the birth of our daughter, my husband left for a dangerous mission. My in-laws' initial joy soured, and they regarded my baby with disdain. Maria, my mother-in-law, was particularly scornful. In a rare show of familial love, my father-in-law Lincoln took my daughter out for a playdate. I thought he had finally grown fond of her, only for him to strike me the moment he returned. "How dare you betray my son! I'll kill you!" "Yes! Beat that loose woman to death together with that brat!" Shifting my gaze from the report on the floor to my furious father-in-law, I pulled out several photos—my naked mother-in-law Maria, caught with another man. "Let's see who the real loose woman is!"

When my son was born, I noticed a small, round birthmark on his arm. But the weird thing? By the time I opened my eyes again after giving birth, it was gone. I figured maybe I'd imagined it. That is, until the baby shower. My brother-in-law's son, born the same day as mine, had the exact same birthmark. Clear as day. That's when it hit me. I didn't say a word, though. Not then. I waited. Eighteen years later, at my son's college acceptance party, my brother-in-law stood up and dropped the truth bomb: the "amazing" kid I'd raised was theirs. I just smiled and invited him and his wife to take their "rightful" seats at the table.

The fertility clinic called to inform me that my embryos were ready for transfer. I touched my abdomen, still numb from the anesthesia of that morning's egg retrieval. Even with cutting-edge medical technology, embryos couldn't be prepared this quickly. Before I could call back to clarify, my husband stopped me. "Mom's been pressing us hard. I pulled some strings to fast-track the process so you can get pregnant sooner. Imagine twins! My buddies will be green with envy." Silent, I drove straight to the clinic and dialed 911 on the way. "Hello? I'm reporting a fertility clinic involved in illegal surrogacy."

My husband's protégé boasted she could disarm bombs blindfolded, relying on her so-called intuition. Her reckless misjudgment triggered a bomb's secondary detonation sequence, endangering an entire building. I intervened, using the dangerous liquid nitrogen condensation method to save the day. As a result, Rita Smith was removed from frontline duties and placed under investigation. Patrick Munoz tried to defend her, but I stopped him cold. "If you back her now, you won't just fail to save her. You'll be dragged down with her." Crushed by the pressure, Rita staged an accident that killed her, leaving a letter blaming him for abandoning her in her hour of need. He said nothing, only preserving her letter in his study. Years later, he became a nationally renowned bomb disposal expert. During a terrorist attack, I was strapped to a timed explosive. He arrived to defuse it but repeated Rita's fatal mistake. As the timer ticked down, he gave a bitter laugh. "Rita was just nervous back then. If I'd supported her, she'd be a hero today." The bomb detonated, leaving nothing of me behind. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the point when he tried to defend Rita. He didn't know that the building housed the nation's top-secret core server.