The Perfect Storm

I was the second princess of the Phoenix Court. And I fell in love with a lowly black serpent. In my past life, just to be with him, I purposely picked that black serpent during the Sacred Bonding ceremony when we each chose our companion beasts. After that, we spent every night together. I didn't care what the whole clan thought. I was determined to marry him. But on our wedding day, that same serpent I'd given my heart to drove an arrow straight through me, killing me while I was three months pregnant. As I lay dying, I heard him hiss bitterly in my ear, "If it weren't for you, I'd have been with Seraphine by now. You should've died a long time ago." That's when I finally got it. All he cared about was power. And he'd been in love with my older sister all along—the sister who was next in line for the Phoenix throne. When I opened my eyes again, we were back at that same moment—the Sacred Bonding ceremony. Before everyone, he dropped to his knees and confessed he loved my sister. He begged not to be bound to me. The whole clan looked at me with pity. But I only smiled and pointed to a small white serpent resting quietly off to the side. That black serpent thought clinging to my sister would make him powerful. What he didn't realize was that only the one I chose would become the true heir to the Phoenix Court.

To celebrate my first New Year after reconnecting with my biological family, everyone dragged me into signing up for a Tranvego tour. The moment we got off the plane, my parents completely changed. They just stood there while my brother tore up my passport. Then they shoved me into a bus headed for Draconville. The whole way, I begged them to take me back. Because I realized the place that the bus was going was the very same home I had spent ten years trying to escape. And the so-called big bosses they kept talking about? One was my foster father, the director of the compound. One was my foster mother, the head of the transplant center. One was my foster brother, the chief of the landfill district. They were famous for protecting their own. But under the excuse of "loving" me, they locked me up and tried to force me to become one of them. I had fought so hard to get away from them. I never thought I'd be sent back again!

My entire family could hear my thoughts. In my previous life, I was switched at birth with Victoria Harrington. I was reunited with my family 18 years later. It was the early 1920s, when owning a bicycle or a radio was still rare for most families. I had always dreamed of having one of those precious things. However, after I came home, Victoria would constantly brag right in front of me. "Mom told me that I'm the only one who deserves this fancy watch," she said with a sweet smile. "And look at this gorgeous bicycle Dad got me for my birthday! Oh, and when I mentioned wanting a radio, Daniel bought it for me immediately." Then came the real knife twist. "I know you're their biological daughter, Bernice, but let's be honest. When it comes to love, I'm their real daughter. Daniel definitely prefers me as his little sister too." Her words ate at me. I could not stop the bitter thoughts that flooded my mind about my parents and brother. The problem was that my family could hear every single one of those thoughts. Slowly, they began to resent me. Eventually, they threw me out into the cold, and I died alone in the winter streets while Victoria lived happily within the warmth of their love. When I opened my eyes again, I realized that I had been reborn. As I watched Victoria putting on her usual show, my thoughts took a delicious turn. 'Victoria thinks that Mom is such a cheapskate for only buying her a cheap watch instead of something expensive. She even calls Dad stingy behind his back because he didn't get her a pricier bicycle.' 'And she constantly complains about how ugly and crude Daniel is, saying that he embarrasses her. I wonder if I should share these thoughts with my family?'

My roommate is the kind of person who has to get to the bottom of everything and doesn't stop asking questions until she's satisfied. One night, while I'm sound asleep, she suddenly stands by my bed and calls my name, "Melissa, are you asleep?" Having been awakened by her, I shoot her an annoyed glare, but she just says, "See? You weren't really asleep. Otherwise, how could you have answered me?" One day, she decides to skip class. Thinking that I could help by signing her in on my phone, I do just that. However, near the end of the lecture, she suddenly bursts into the room and asks the professor, "I wasn't here today, so why does it show I was marked present? Is the system down?" The professor traces it back to me, fails me on the spot, and makes me retake the class. Later on, I join a speech contest. My roommate stands up in front of everyone and asks why my speech sounded exactly like her ideas. I get disqualified, lose my scholarship, and am labeled a plagiarist. Devastated, I climb onto the rooftop late at night. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the night when my roommate first asked if I was asleep.

In my previous life, after my parents divorced, my younger sister Fiona went with my father, Michael, who had a yearly salary of a hundred thousand dollars. Meanwhile, I left with my mother, Jessica, with nothing but the clothes on our backs. However, my father was fired by his company after that. He went bankrupt in an instant and lived in poverty. Meanwhile, my mother started her own business from nothing and ended up being one of the richest in Arman City with a net worth of over a hundred million dollars. Fiona was jealous of me and stabbed me to death the day I was to inherit Jessica's company. When I opened my eyes, I had returned to the day my parents divorced. When I saw Fiona wanting to live with Jessica no matter what, I knew that she had regressed as well. That was fine, though. I never wanted to experience that kind of lowly existence a second time.

My father died of esophageal cancer. For the final two years of his life, he could barely swallow anything. By the time he passed, he was nothing but skin and bones. The first New Year after his death, he came to my mother in a dream. "I'm starving," he said. "I just want to taste the thick-cut steak you used to make." My mother believed it without question. That very day, she pan-seared a large platter of steak and carried it to his grave. The next morning, she suffered a sudden heart attack and died on the spot. Devastated, I handled my mother's funeral together with my husband. That same night, my husband dreamed of my father as well. "Chester," he said, "I haven't eaten in so long. I want your pâté, served with some strong liquor." When my husband woke up, he bought the finest liver pâté, opened a bottle of single-malt whiskey, and went straight to the grave. However, not long after returning home, he collapsed from acute liver failure. He was rushed to the ICU and died three days later. I was on the brink of collapse myself. I left my daughter in the care of a close friend while I tried to handle the endless wave of tragedy. That evening, my daughter never came home from school. I searched everywhere, and finally, on the road to the cemetery, I found her. She was clutching a bowl of spicy stew, several grilled sausages floating in the broth. "Mom," she said, "Grandpa and I used to eat this all the time. I dreamed he said he was hungry." I finally lost it. I knocked the bowl from her hands and carried her home. That night, my father appeared in my dream once more. "I suffered so much while alive," he said. "Have some pity on me. "New Year's is coming. I want to come home for a meal. Make sure you cook fish." I woke in terror. Holding my daughter, I sat before the three framed portraits for two full days without eating or drinking. On New Year's morning, I realized she was no longer breathing. Clutched tightly in her hand was a packet of spicy dried salmon. I could not believe it. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my mother, her eyes red with worry, said she was going out to buy steak.

I loved eating cakes. My dad would bring me one every day after work, and my mom bought a full set of oven and baking tools, patiently learning how to bake them for me. I once thought I was the happiest little princess in the world until the day my parents divorced. The person who came to pick up my dad turned out to be the bakery owner. My mom turned to me, growling, "This is all your fault! If you hadn't asked for cakes every day, your dad never would've cheated!" She stretched out her hands, covered in burn scars, and screamed hysterically, "I slaved away making cakes for you, and these hands have never healed since. What did you do? You both think the stuff from outside is so much better!" She grabbed a baking sheet and smacked me hard with it. I bit my lip, not daring to make a sound. That night, she brought home a little girl. Ignoring the pain all over my body, I begged for her forgiveness. "Mom, I'm sorry. Please don't throw me away. I swear I'll never eat another cake!" She slapped me across the face, but that wasn't enough to quench her anger. She tossed me into the big oven. "I'm not your mom! You love cakes so much? Stay in there and reflect on what you've done! You and your worthless dad both deserve to die!" After she slammed the door and stormed out, the little girl skipped over to the oven, grinning smugly as she hit the switch. "From now on, your mom is gonna be mine!" The oven kicked on, and the temperature began to rise. I smiled bitterly. At least this way, my mom could finally be happy.

On her first day at work, a new colleague uploaded a 500-million-dollar property purchase agreement to the company group chat. The message was accompanied by the caption: “Thanks for the gift for my first day at work, Dad!” She quickly deleted it, following up with, “Sorry, wrong chat!” I frowned, recognizing the contract immediately. It was the same property my father gifted me for my birthday a month ago. Some sharp-eyed colleagues noticed the contract number and chimed in. “I have a relative in real estate. I remember this property. Our chairman bought it recently!” “So, the heiress has joined us to experience life. Forgive your humble servant for not recognizing you!” The chat was soon filled with flattering remarks. Even my stingy and miserly husband joined in. I felt a coldness in my heart and couldn’t help but respond in the group chat, “I recall the president always opposing ostentatious displays of wealth and advocating humility. This heiress seems to veer away from his usual philosophy.” Instead of support, I faced attacks from my husband and others. “Look at you being so poor and petty. How could you ever compare to Grace? Why did I ever marry someone so shortsighted?” “As if you know the president that well! I think you’re just jealous that Grace was born with a silver spoon!” I sneered coldly and, without hesitation, dialed the president’s number right in front of everyone. “Dad, I heard we’re not that close, hmm?”

The world was divided into the mortal realm and the divine realm. The Rain Clan belonged to the divine realm. They could hear the prayers from the mortal realm. The Rain Maidens would bring rainfall to the mortal realm through prayers. They could ascend to heavens through cultivation. In the Rain Clan, every rain maiden was born with a dragon who would ascend with her and become her mount. When my sister and I were born, we shared only one spirit beast—a white dragon. The white dragon was the lowest of all dragons, yet I ignored the clan’s objections and insisted on forming a bond with him so that we could ascend. However, on the day I succeeded in calling the rain and married him, he shot an arrow straight through me while I was pregnant and at my weakest from summoning rain. As I lay dying, I saw him rush toward my sister. “Leigh, now I can finally be with you forever.” Only then did I realize the white dragon had chosen me under pretenses to help Leigh ascend. When I opened my eyes again, he and I had both returned to the day of our bond. There, he learned that Leigh was the true heir to the Rain Goddess mantle. He dropped to his knees and loudly confessed that he had always loved Leigh, and that he wished only to be her mount. Everyone knew I had spent half my cultivation to save him when he first hatched. I smiled and pointed at a mottled green snake at the edge of the barrier. The white dragon thought that as long as he bonded with my sister, he would ascend. However, what he never knew was that without me, Leigh could never ascend.

While picking up my parcel from the mailroom, I run into Ivan Judd, an underprivileged student from my grade who is working part-time there. While we chat, he finds out that I'd spent 128 thousand dollars during the Black Friday sales. Dumbfounded, Ivan cries, "I've never even seen that kind of money in my entire life! And you're spending it so casually? Did your mom send you to college to study or to blow money like this?" He yanks the parcel out of my hands and physically blocks the exit. "Return it immediately! Kids like you never understand how hard it is for adults to earn money! If you're this wasteful now, what man can afford to marry you in the future?" I can't help but laugh angrily at Ivan's ridiculous attitude. I retort, "What does me spending my mom's money have anything to do with you?" "How does it not?" He looks completely justified when he says, "I'm dating your mom. Every cent you spend counts as our future marital assets!" I am shocked. Isn't Mom a lesbian? Since when did she start liking men?