It’s only been a week, and not many people are interested in the news about the Ruan family.
The Ruan family, once the core of the world, has now become inconspicuous and gradually disappeared.
Even if someone talks about it, they show undisguised disgust.
And those cannon fodders who should have been killed because of the Ruan family——
No matter who has been hurt or who was about to be hurt but avoided due to the change of the world line, everyone is living better and better…
The Zhao family, once ensnared in the chaos, is moving forward. Father Zhao and his eldest son have rebuilt their business. Although they lost substantial assets when their previous company went bankrupt, their longstanding connections and experience proved invaluable. With perseverance, the new company is already gaining traction, and they are optimistic about its future.
Mother Zhao, who had been heartbroken by the past, is slowly healing and rebuilding her life alongside her family. The financial recovery has given her peace of mind, and her outlook is gradually brightening.
Numerous other individuals, once overlooked or impacted by the Ruan family’s schemes, are experiencing similar recoveries. Freed from the chains of manipulation and exploitation, they are reclaiming control over their lives. The shifts in the worldline have paved the way for them to pursue happiness, stability, and fulfillment once denied to them.
In this new reality, the world moves forward, no longer fixated on the Ruan family.
As the days turned into weeks, Ruan Jiaojiao’s life continued to deteriorate. Disfigured, paralyzed, and confined to her hospital bed, she found herself isolated from the people who once surrounded her. Marceau and Wright, her most fervent admirers, had all but disappeared, publicly claiming to support her while privately distancing themselves.
Ruan Jiaojiao’s pleas to see Marceau or Wright went unanswered. Her demands for care and special treatment were dismissed or ignored by the hospital staff, who had grown tired of her arrogant outbursts. Even her family, tainted by scandal and downfall, had cut ties with her entirely, too ashamed to associate with her now that the Ruan name no longer held power.
One evening, as she lay alone in her sterile, silent room, a nurse entered to replace her IV drip. Ruan Jiaojiao, in a fit of frustration and loneliness, began hurling insults, as was now her habit. The nurse, visibly tired of the abuse, merely adjusted her IV bag, her face a mask of indifference.
“Why don’t you people treat me with respect?” Ruan Jiaojiao demanded. “I’m still Ruan Jiaojiao! Do you know what that name means?”
The nurse paused, meeting her gaze with an expression of cold pity. “That name means nothing now, Ms. Ruan. Not anymore.” Without another word, the nurse turned and left, leaving her in a silence more oppressive than ever.
Desperation filled Ruan Jiaojiao.
As the days stretched into nights, she became consumed by anger and bitterness, her thoughts spiraling with the knowledge that the world had abandoned her.
In the quiet hours of the night, she whispered to herself that she would reclaim her life, her status, her power—but the whisper sounded hollow, even to her.
One evening, as she sat staring at the ceiling, she felt a sudden tightening in her chest, a pain unlike any she had felt before. She gasped, her hand gripping the sheets, her eyes widening in terror.
The machines beeped urgently, but her cries for help went unheard. The hallway outside remained empty, and the flickering overhead light cast her final moments in an eerie glow.
By the time the morning staff arrived, Ruan Jiaojiao was gone. She was found alone, with no family to claim her, no mourners to grieve her passing, and no friends to pay their respects.
When news of her death finally reached the world, it was little more than a brief note in a tabloid, a faint echo of a name that had once commanded attention. Ruan Jiaojiao, once the envy of many and the center of her own world, had faded into obscurity, her death unnoticed by all but a handful.
