The wolf’s ruthless cruelty was etched in my memory.
Staying here, I couldn’t kill him, and I might end up getting myself killed instead.

For the two days after my recovery, I stayed holed up in the house, avoiding the wolf whenever he returned.
His wolf-like eyes seemed to carry thorns, piercing me.
Whenever our gazes met, my legs disobeyed—either trembling or fleeing instinctively.

I clutched the jade pendant around my neck, tears of frustration streaming down.
“Grandma, I might not be able to avenge you.”

The maid deftly pulled out a tissue to wipe my tears, her voice tinged with concern: “Zhixia, you’re hurting yourself like this.”

I bit my lip hard, turning my head away.

At times like this, the maid would talk endlessly, listing the benefits of staying here, as if trying to brainwash me.
Her words boiled down to one thing: the wolf wouldn’t harm me.

I didn’t want to hear it anymore.
Days of torment piled pressure on me.
I cast a pleading look at the maid: “I want to go out…”

She seemed at a loss, then hugged me tightly: “You want to go have fun, right?”

I didn’t hesitate: “Yes.”

“Then I’ll tell the Young Master.”
She pulled out her phone and left.

I knew the chances were slim.
Even going out was a luxury, requiring the wolf’s approval.
Ironically, he called me his sister—what a miserable joke.

Soon, the maid returned, beaming: “The Young Master agreed.”

I froze.
He actually agreed?

She cupped my face like soothing a child: “Let’s get you dressed up before we go, okay?”

“Okay!”

My room was suddenly filled with new clothes—when did they get here?
The maid pulled me to a mirror, holding up outfits to compare.
Eager to leave this place, I grabbed a T-shirt and pants.

She snatched them away: “Those don’t look good. How about this?”

She handed me a white long dress.
I changed and glanced in the mirror.
What difference did men’s or women’s clothing make?
The world outside was just like the one inside—both hell.

The summer sun blazed.
The maid, now in casual clothes, led me to a two-seater car.
She pressed a remote key, and as the gate opened, my excitement grew, a sense of rebirth washing over me.
A smile crept onto my face.

She glanced at me, then slammed the brakes!

The seatbelt dug into my shoulder, making me yelp: “Ouch!”

The maid snapped back, guilt flooding her face: “Sorry, sorry! Are you okay?”

I rubbed my shoulder, saying it was fine.
She sighed in relief: “Your smile could charm a city.”

“Really?”
I gave a small smile.
She returned one: “Smile more. I wonder what the Young Master would think.”

My face darkened instantly, and I leaned toward the door, ignoring her.

In the familiar city, I stepped out and stretched, no longer surrounded by the lonely, empty mansion but by passersby staring at me.

Though we were out to “play,” I didn’t know what was fun.
I’d lived here my whole life, but anything costing money was beyond me.
I didn’t know the joy of spending.

More importantly, I wasn’t here to play—I was here to escape.

The maid stayed close.
Without warning, I bolted, running with all my strength.
She chased, keeping pace.

I’d always been confident in my speed—why couldn’t I shake her?

Running, she asked: “Zhixia, where are you going?”

Did she suspect I was escaping from the start?

I couldn’t let her see through me.
I stopped at a milk tea shop to cover my tracks.

Drinking clean milk tea was a luxury.
While scavenging, I’d find half-empty cups, but they tasted awful—just melted ice water.

I went from pretending to read the menu to studying it seriously, swallowing hard.
The maid saw through me, smiling: “Want milk tea?”

I nodded lightly, then faltered—my pockets were empty, not a coin to my name.

She knew, chuckling: “What do you want? I’ll buy.”

I hesitated, curious about fresh milk tea’s taste, and pointed at the menu: “Then I’ll have a cheese taro milk tea.”

I chose a mid-priced option.
The shop employee stared at my face, lost in thought.

The maid called out: “Hey, handsome? One cheese taro milk tea.”

He jolted: “Right, how much sugar? Any add-ons?”

I scratched my head, unsure what ratio tasted best.
The maid answered: “Seventy percent, double cheese.”

“Please wait.”
He printed a receipt and handed it to me.
Our hands brushed as I took it.
He glanced at me, then his hand, before making the tea.

The maid’s face soured, her brows tight.
I didn’t know what she was thinking—maybe annoyed at the employee’s distraction.

The tea was ready quickly.
He inserted a straw, and I took a sip, eyes widening: “Delicious!”

The male employee blushed to his ears, bowing slightly: “Come back anytime.”

I beamed.
The maid, seeing me happy, smiled too.

Fearing the tea would run out, I sipped slowly, savoring it.
She asked: “Zhixia, want anything else to eat?”

I spoke honestly: “I want to try everything I see.”

She laughed indulgently: “Then we’ll come out tomorrow too.”

I forced a smile: “Great!”

Next, she took me to eat several things.

We walked and stopped along the way.
At a traffic light, I slowed, spotting adorable golden kittens behind a pet shop’s glass, their big eyes and soft mews utterly charming.

The maid joined me, admiring their cuteness.
She seemed to love fluffy creatures.

Seizing the moment, I bolted!
Two seconds later, she froze, then chased.
The red light was seconds away.
I kept running, crossing just in time, hearing honks and curses behind me.
I didn’t look back—my only chance couldn’t be wasted.

On the other side, the maid was stuck at the 60-second light, unable to follow through the stream of cars.
I glanced back—she was frantic.

A hot breeze blew past.
I kept running, plotting a route I was sure she couldn’t follow.
After ten minutes, seeing no sign of her, I stopped, leaning against a wall, gasping for a few seconds.

Sweat drenched me, my face pulsing, but I didn’t relax, walking quickly for another 30 minutes.
Exhausted, I slumped against a wall in a grimy alley, my legs trembling from overexertion.

I tugged at my bra to ease the discomfort, peering out—no maid.
I didn’t even know where I was.
I’d escaped.

Catching my breath, I felt lost.
Where could I go?
Besides my riverside shack, where was home?
Go back to Disney Media and find Zhu Qing?

No way.
The maid’s warnings scared me—seeking Zhu Qing was like jumping from a wolf’s den into a tiger’s mouth.

Tears streaked my face.
I wiped them, telling myself I should be glad to have escaped danger.

Walking and wiping my eyes, an auntie saw my tears and called out: “Little sister, what’s wrong?”

I shook my head, silent.
Grandma taught me not to talk to strangers—you never know who they are.
Bad people often feign concern.
If the world were kind, scavengers like me wouldn’t exist.

I started rummaging through trash bins, unaware my white dress cost hundreds.
My hands got filthy, sticky with unknown liquids, hoping for a gold chain to salvage.

I laughed at myself.
I couldn’t return to the shack—the wolf would find me there.
I didn’t know where to sleep tonight.
From experience, I’d find a spot early—tired and hungry, a nap would do.

I scavenged for over an hour.
Passersby saw my focus, and many approached.
I hoped they’d give me money, admitting I was a beggar.

They didn’t believe me—I looked too well-dressed, thinking I was faking for pity.

I bit my lip, unable to argue.
I couldn’t roll in mud to ruin the dress, could I?

Still, I got something.
An uncle offered to buy me dinner, but I didn’t dare go.
He gave me 20 yuan—dinner was covered.
His gaze felt odd, so I thanked him and hurried off.

At a small shop with an outdoor faucet, I boldly drank, crouching to sip, ignoring the rusty taste, just wanting to quench my thirst.

The elderly shopkeeper stared at me like I was a freak, then grabbed a bottled water from her fridge: “Drink this.”

I wiped my mouth, waving my hands, pulling out the 20 yuan: “Sorry.”

Seeing my bag of empty bottles, her face grew heavy, pressing the water into my hand: “Take it, it’s not much.”

I bowed deeply: “Thank you, Grandma!”

She shook her head, speaking like someone seasoned: “Don’t waste that pretty face. If you’re desperate, find a man—open your mouth, and you’ll have everything.”

“Huh? No, thank you.”
I knew what she meant, but how could I?
Not long ago, I was a man.

I left quickly with my bag, no longer thirsty, saving the water for later.

Still without a place to stay, I wandered aimlessly.
This was a park I sometimes visited—people strolled here after dinner, and retired aunties danced at night.
I came rarely since local beggars bullied me, sometimes stealing my money, leaving me empty-handed.

Seeing no beggars, I quickly searched the park’s bins, but found few bottles—others had beaten me to them.

I sat on a bench, questioning life, drowned in negativity, my heart heavy.
Grandma was gone—why not just die?

No, I’d escaped danger.
I had to live for Grandma.
Her spirit would protect me!

Protect me to find a ring abandoned by a broken-up couple.
Better yet, if everyone broke up today, rings would rain from the sky.

I sniffled, standing.
Turning, I noticed several burly men nearby, their crew cuts and weathered auras giving them a rough edge.

Yet they acted politely, contrasting their demeanor.
They checked their phones, then asked: “Excuse me, is your name Zhixia?”

I nodded instinctively, then, sensing trouble, shook my head frantically: “No!”

I tried to leave, but they blocked me, grabbing me!

I panicked, biting at them.
The man dodged easily, pinning my head, immobilizing me.

“What are you doing… Help!”

My cry only drew passersby’s cold indifference and pity.

Heart sinking, I was no match for these four men.
No matter how I screamed, it was useless—they dragged me into a car.