Shi Xinghui transmigrated and became an orphan whose mother had just passed away. The upside was inheriting several buildings, the downside was that she had to marry her fiancée to do so.

Her fiancée’s name was Wen Zhuo, and Shi Xinghui initially thought she would be a gentle older sister. But upon meeting her, she realized what “heavy widow’s aura” meant.

According to rumors, Wen Zhuo was breathtakingly beautiful, cold and aloof, with a detached and unworldly gaze. She was an “immortal jade sword” praised by the industry, and her fluid action scenes were often used as teaching material in drama schools.

But at her mother’s funeral, Shi Xinghui saw Wen Zhuo’s eyes, bloodshot and full of a crazed, undisguised breakdown. This seemingly transcendent goddess had become a possessive lunatic, ignoring everyone’s pleas and insisting on stopping the coffin just for a moment to greedily take one last look at the person she loved.

All signs pointed to Wen Zhuo’s affections being for Shi Xinghui’s recently deceased mother, who Shi Xinghui resembled with a ninety percent similarity.

Considering the inheritance, Shi Xinghui entered Wen Zhuo’s home on a rainy night. Wen Zhuo carried a cool, pleasant scent, like a fine aged wine, but her voice was cold and heartless, “Why wasn’t it you who died?”

Shi Xinghui held her patience and negotiated how she could fake a marriage with Wen Zhuo.

Wen Zhuo casually lifted her eyes, her tone playful, “Come, amuse me.”

The icy gaze was clearly looking at someone else through her. Shi Xinghui understood. She stepped forward, took off the black armband on Wen Zhuo’s arm, and tactfully asked, “What did my mother usually call you?”

“Xiao Jiu, the ‘jiu’ from ‘zhuo jiu’ (a type of wine).”

“Okay, Xiao Jiu.”

For the next two years, she deliberately imitated her mother—her clothes, her tone, her personality. Even in moments of passion with Wen Zhuo, she would be completely accommodating, her movements gentle, as if she treasured her.

On her twentieth birthday, she finally gained her inheritance. Shi Xinghui pulled out the prepared divorce papers, revealing her sharp and direct true self. “This game of playing a stand-in, it’s time for it to end.”

On the first day of signing the divorce papers, Wen Zhuo couldn’t sleep.

She told herself she was just uncomfortable because Shi Xinghui was the one who initiated the divorce. After all, as a stand-in, Shi Xinghui had always been a “come when called, go when dismissed” kind of person. How dare she refuse her?

But the month-long cooling-off period for the divorce was enough for Wen Zhuo to realize that this unease was caused by a loss of control, and she was the one completely losing it.

Who says the prey can’t become the hunter? Shi Xinghui had done just that.

In this game of being a stand-in, Wen Zhuo had lost everything, even her pride. She came to the set where Shi Xinghui was working, her eyes red with tears, and begged, “Can we not get a divorce?”

Shi Xinghui frowned, looking extremely guarded. “You’re not going back on your word again and being greedy for my inheritance, are you?”

“No, I’ll give you half of my assets. Please don’t get a divorce, okay?”

“No.”

Shi Xinghui refused without hesitation, her eyes filled with resistance. “No amount of money will change my mind.”

It turned out the other person was already desperate to draw a line between them.

Wen Zhuo smiled bitterly, finally realizing that every intimate “Xiao Jiu” was a countdown, a fleeting shooting star that never stayed for anyone.

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