It will be you in the next life too

"I am not Meng Anran! I'm not! She's already dead!" Meng Xiaoer was pressed onto the bed by Gu Yicheng, as vulnerable as ever, lacking any cover. But no longer exuding the previous captivating allure.

She resisted like someone possessed, consumed by resentment. The moment the words "Meng Anran" escaped into the air, the man, panting from desire-induced heat, suddenly halted.

His dark, brooding demeanor resembled a potential tsunami lurking beneath the murky depths of the sea! Gripping Meng Xiaoer's jawbone, his eyes flashed with the menace of impending violence.

"Meng... Xiao... Er!" His enunciation of her name was deliberate, and today, the hatred in his gaze surpassed all past animosity! "What? Does the mention of Meng Anran torment you? Does it cause you pain?" Meng Xiaoer faced Gu Yicheng's threatening gaze without fear, even a hint of mockery in her eyes.

It had been two years since she confronted him with such reckless courage.

Her arched arm pressed against Gu Yicheng's chest. "I am not Meng Anran, Gu Yicheng! I am not Meng Anran! She's dead! She can never, ever return!" The storm brewing within Gu Yicheng's heart finally erupted! He yanked Meng Xiaoer's arm, lifted her off the bed, and hurled her to the ground. "Get out! Meng Xiaoer! Roll on the floor like two years ago! Roll like a dog!" The man's handsome face contorted with rage, appearing monstrous.

Meng Xiaoer quivered on the ground, vividly recalling how Gu Yicheng had rescued her like a dog two years ago and how he had repeatedly dominated her on this very bed. She remembered his seething resentment and loathing every time his desire peaked.

She mistook it for his passion.

But today, upon discovering the secret chamber in the villa, she realized she was merely a substitute for Gu Yicheng to vent his hatred.

The man turned away decisively.

Meng Xiaoer lifted the urn she had secretly taken from the underground chamber. Just as Gu Yicheng opened the door, she violently smashed the urn against the floor. White powder dispersed, then settled, causing the black-and-white photo affixed to the urn to fall off. In the picture, a young woman smiled with a gleam in her eye.

Her name was Meng Anran.

Meng Xiaoer knew the moment she saw that photo that she could never leave a mark in Gu Yicheng's heart. No matter how hard she tried.

Because nobody can compete with a dead person.

She squatted down, grabbed the ashes on the ground, and despised this woman who looked so much like her—Meng Anran. Meng Xiaoer was consumed by hatred. Because of Meng Anran, Gu Yicheng had noticed her. She had fallen in love with Gu Yicheng, only to find that the man she loved adored a dead person.

Initially, it was hatred. She clenched the ashes, wanting to grab handfuls and throw them away, so that nobody could pick them up. But as she gripped harder, her palms pricked and her fingers bled, causing her deep pain.

She wept as she scooped up the ashes from the floor, wishing every inch of her skin could carry the scent of that woman.

Gu Yicheng stood at the door, watching the woman on the ground smearing herself with ashes as if she had gone mad. He tightened his grip on the door handle, trembling.

Veins popped on his forehead, his complexion darkened slowly. He knew that tonight, he didn't just want Meng Xiaoer to leave; he wanted to kill this woman! He walked toward her, stepping on the shards of the urn, blood oozing out, leaving a crimson footprint on the floor.

Bending down, Gu Yicheng's slender fingers wrapped around the delicate, fair neck of the woman. Slowly tightening his grip, watching her neck stretch to the limit for air, her eyes growing wide, he saw his once beautiful eyes turn blood-red with a hint of bloodlust. "Meng Xiaoer, go die!"

Meng Xiaoer's originally fair skin grew paler due to the lack of oxygen, but the tears welling up in her eyes made them bloodshot.

Her hand didn't attempt to pry open Gu Yicheng's grip; she couldn't bear to discard even a bit of the ashes. Her palm opened, continuing to spread them across herself. Perhaps if there was a bit more of that woman's scent, he would soften, let go.

With each breath, Gu Yicheng's back trembled. "Meng Xiaoer! You don't know when to stop!" Throwing Meng Xiaoer again, Gu Yicheng was drenched in sweat.

The woman, who had fallen, crawled up and clutched Gu Yicheng's leg, inching upward, tiptoed, and hugged his neck. She shivered against his robust frame, frightened. "Yicheng, you... sniff, I smell like her now. Don't hate me in the future; just treat me as someone else. Don't make me leave. Embrace me; I don't mind being a replacement. Please don't tell me to lea