Chapter 1 Blood Draw

In the dark, Snow caught the sharp scent of disinfectant.

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was the cold, sterile white tiles on the hospital wall.

Suddenly, a slight sting came from her left arm.

Snow looked down and saw a sharp needle already embedded in her pale skin. Crimson blood crept slowly through a slender tube, like a sluggish worm.

She instinctively jerked backward, wanting to rip the transfusion line out.

Just then, a pair of warm, firm hands pressed her shoulders down.

"Snow, don't be afraid. It'll be over soon."

Turning her head, she saw the gentle, kindly face of her mother, Sally.

At this moment, Sally had thick black hair and a youthful face full of collagen, barely a wrinkle in sight-she looked so young and warm.

Snow had been reborn, back to the year she turned seventeen.

Her mother whispered softly in her ear, "Don't be afraid. It's just one bag of blood. You're such a brave girl, Snow-your sister's little hero."

Sally had been saying that same line since Snow was a child-all the way until she turned twenty-five.

Her sister, Rose, had been diagnosed with hemophilia at birth, suffering from a severe clotting disorder that required regular blood transfusions.

To make matters worse, Rose had the rare RH-negative AB blood type-commonly known as "panda blood"-nearly impossible to find in hospital blood banks. Their parents were RH-negative A and B types, and neither could donate.

Desperate to save their first daughter, their parents took a gamble, they decided to have another child, one who could act as a "living blood bank" for Rose.

The next year, Snow was born. Luckily-or unluckily-she too had RH-negative AB blood, a perfect match.

That's when Snow's nightmare began...

In the early years, Rose's condition was relatively stable, and she only needed transfusions once every six months.

But once she started college, her symptoms worsened. The blood draws went from every six months, to every three, to every month, and then every few days.

In her previous life, Snow had tried to resist. She hated the pain. But her parents guilt-tripped her mercilessly-if she refused, she was heartless, ungrateful, lacking family loyalty.

Frequent blood draws eventually left Snow anemic. She no longer wanted to donate blood, but her parents harshly scolded her, even locked her in the hospital and forced the transfusions.

When Snow eventually died unexpectedly, her mother wept bitterly-not because she had lost a daughter, but because Rose had lost her only blood source.

In her "loving and kind" parents' eyes, Snow's only worth had been her blood.

Now, back at seventeen, Snow was determined not to repeat that tragic life. She wanted a normal existence.

While she was lost in thought, the doctor finished drawing 200cc of blood and told her mother, "Make sure to cook some iron-rich meals for her, like stir-fried pork liver. She needs to replenish quickly."

Sally nodded earnestly, patting Snow's head. "You're such a good girl, Snow. What would you like to eat tonight? Mommy will make it for you."

Snow turned her head to avoid the touch.

She got up and walked out, leaning against the cold hospital wall. Her head spun slightly from blood loss.

Just then, she ran into Rose coming out with her test results.

"Snow, are you okay? Are you feeling dizzy?" Rose asked with concern.

In her last life, Rose had shown the same gentle, caring demeanor. Snow had foolishly believed it was genuine.

But behind that saintly mask was a bottomless pit of greed. Rose took everything from her-not just her health and body, but her parents' love, her relatives' concern...

All the resources Snow should have had growing up were taken by Rose.

Not this time.

Snow avoided her gaze and turned away, trying to steady her dizzy body.

Sally helped Rose roll up her sleeve, waiting for the doctor to begin processing the fresh blood.

Looking at her little sister in the corner, Rose frowned in concern. "I think Snow's mad at me... she won't talk to me. I feel so guilty, Mom."

Sally reassured her, "It's only right for her to donate. You're sisters-this is what family does."

Rose lowered her head, her voice soft and sincere. "Snow, please don't hate me, okay?"

There it was again.

Rose, playing the role of the world's most pitiful girl-sick and full of remorse. Naturally, everyone doted on her. She was the fragile one, the brave one, the noble one.

Snow, on the other hand, was seen as the heartless rebel whenever she tried to resist.

Relatives scolded her, "How can you be so selfish? Can't you see how much your sister is suffering? She's crying! Your parents gave you life-what's wrong with donating a little blood?"

And so, under pressure from everyone around her, Snow kept rolling up her sleeves. Again and again.

Just like now.

Her mother's gentle scolding, "Snow, your sister cares about you. How can you ignore her?"

This time, Snow was calmer. She replied coolly, "Sister's overthinking it. We're family-it's only natural we help each other. I don't blame her."

Rose froze for a moment, then nodded quickly.

It was already six in the evening by the time the transfusion was done. Snow's father, Bill, was waiting outside the hospital in his Mercedes.

Once everyone was in the car, he asked, "What did the doctor say?"

"Rose's condition is relatively stable."

"Good. That's a relief."

Snow remembered, during high school, Rose's illness had been in a stable phase. Transfusions were infrequent-once every six months at most. It was still within what Snow could tolerate.

But once Rose hit twenty-three, the disease worsened. The frequency of blood draws skyrocketed, eventually draining Snow's health until she developed anemia.

Now, Snow made a silent vow, she would use this window of stability to escape her parents' control. She would no longer be anyone's blood supplier.

Given this second chance at life, she was determined to be free.

Resting her head against the car window, she quietly thought about her future.

Through the rearview mirror, her mother noticed Snow's pale, tired face and asked gently, "Snow, are you very tired?"

"A little," Snow replied.

"Then get some rest in the car. You'll need your energy later-we still have to rehearse for the interview. It's only a few days away. You must fully support your sister."

"I know."

Rose had become a small internet celebrity for her bravery in fighting illness, even making headlines. She was now a motivational figure on Tweet, with millions of followers.

To capitalize on her image, Virtuous High School invited national television reporters to do a feature interview.

Snow had been asked to appear as well, to speak about Rose's inspiring story.

In her past life, when asked by a reporter whether she willingly donated blood, Snow had answered honestly, "No. I didn't want to. It hurts."

That single sentence-"I didn't want to. It hurts."-ignited an online firestorm.

"You're so selfish!"

"Have you ever thought about how much pain your sister is in?"

"It's just a needle! Stop being dramatic!"

Snow was hit with a tsunami of online hate. It broke her.

But this time, she wouldn't be so stupid.

The interview was set in the school's lecture hall. The two sisters arrived early for backstage prep.

Under the bright vanity lights, a makeup artist was trying to find the right foundation for Snow.

She tried several shades but wasn't satisfied. The girl's skin was too fair-flawless, even. Not a single blemish.

"You've got incredible skin," the artist marveled. "Honestly, with your complexion, you barely need makeup at all."

"Thank you," Snow replied politely, flashing a sweet smile and revealing two little bunny teeth.

She really was beautiful-almost ethereal. But in her past life, once anemia set in, her skin lost its glow. She'd looked sickly, fragile, no longer radiant.

As the artist continued looking for the right shade, Rose emerged in a pretty dress.

"My makeup smudged," she said. "Can you touch it up?"

"I haven't finished here yet. Could you wait a moment?"

"She's only on screen for a few minutes," Rose replied. "I'm the main focus today."

The artist glanced at Snow, who gave a gentle smile. "It's okay. Help my sister first."

So the artist picked up her tools and walked over to Rose.

Compared to Snow, Rose looked rather ordinary. She shared some of the same facial structure, but with a bit of puffiness from overnutrition. Her features weren't as defined, and her complexion looked dull.

Left alone, Snow sat in front of the mirror, calmly applying her own makeup.

Just then, her phone buzzed. It was a message from her best friends' group chat,

"Go Snow!! You're the fattest!!! 💪🐷"

Snow chuckled and replied, "I'd kill you all if it weren't illegal 😇🔪"

"You guys in the auditorium yet?"

"Yep, front row! It's national TV, don't screw it up!"

Then the chat suddenly shifted gears,

"OMG I think I just saw Richard."

"Wait-THE Richard? The one who's insanely good at boxing and street racing?"

"Yup! That one!"

"Why would he come to this interview?"

"No clue."

Richard was a bit of a mystery. You could call him a delinquent, but he didn't quite fit the stereotype. He never caused a scene in public-no smoking, no fighting in the halls.

But everyone knew he wasn't exactly a choirboy either. He and his gang frequented underground boxing clubs, making money with their fists. He lived for speed, the kind of guy who took turns on the racetrack like he didn't care if he lived or died.

In her previous life, Snow and Richard had barely interacted. His smile had always creeped her out-too sly, too dangerous.

But Rose had liked that kind of bad boy.

On a snowy night, Snow had fled the hospital, weak from cold and blood loss. She collapsed in the street.

It was Richard who had found her. He took her home and cared for her.

Their time together had been short, but in the depths of his pitch-black eyes, Snow had seen a kind of love that carved itself into the bone.

...

Snow took a deep breath and set her phone down.

She picked up her lipstick. Almost absentmindedly, she reached for the one shade she knew Richard liked best-bold crimson red.