Chapter 11: The Stolen Identity

As Feng Yan lay in bed, her mind continued to wander through the painful memories of her past life. The incident with Feng Yue and the painting competition loomed large in her thoughts, a pivotal moment that had shaped the trajectory of her life.

It was around this time, she recalled with a bitter twist of her heart, that the painting competition happened. The one where I foolishly helped Feng Yue... and she stole everything from me.

In her past life, Feng Yan had poured her heart and soul into that painting, a masterpiece that captured the delicate beauty of nature with a touch of ethereal magic. She had worked tirelessly, day and night, to perfect it, hoping it would be her chance to prove herself. But she was naive then—too trusting, too desperate for approval.

Feng Yue had approached her with the same sweet smile she always used when she wanted something. "Feng Yan," she had said, "your painting skills are amazing. Could you help me with my submission for the competition? I'm so nervous about it, and I know you can make it perfect."

And like a fool, Feng Yan had agreed. She had spent countless hours working on that painting, infusing it with her own unique style and emotion. When it was finally finished, it was a work of art—a piece that reflected everything she loved about painting.

But instead of submitting it under her own name, Feng Yan had handed it over to Feng Yue, who took full credit. Feng Yue had won the competition, of course, and the acclaim that came with it. Her "talent" was praised, and she was lauded as a prodigy.

And that was only the beginning, Feng Yan thought, her fists clenching in anger. After that, all of my works were published under Feng Yue's name. My pseudonym, "Butterfly," was stolen too, and she used it to build her own reputation. She took everything from me—my art, my identity.

The memories were like daggers, cutting deep into her heart. But the worst part, the part that filled her with the most rage, was what the Feng family did to her after. To ensure that Feng Yan could never reveal the truth or reclaim her art, they had broken her fingers. They staged it as an accident, making sure that she could never paint again. It was their way of silencing her, of ensuring that Feng Yue's theft would never be exposed.

They broke me, she thought, the pain of that betrayal still fresh in her mind. They stole everything, and then they took away the one thing I loved most.

But this time, things would be different. This time, she would not let them take anything from her. She would protect what was rightfully hers.

Feng Yan sat up in bed, determination hardening her resolve. She grabbed her mobile phone and quickly began browsing the internet, searching for information about the upcoming painting competition. Her fingers moved with purpose, the old anger fueling her every action.

I won't let them steal my identity again, she vowed silently. This time, I'll submit my art under my own name. I'll win this competition, and I'll do it with the same painting that they used to destroy me.

As she scrolled through the competition details, Feng Yan's mind was already racing with ideas. She would create a painting that would outshine anything Feng Yue could ever produce. She would reclaim her pseudonym "Butterfly" and restore it to its rightful owner.

"This time, I'll be the one standing in the spotlight," Feng Yan whispered to herself, her eyes flashing with resolve. "And I'll make sure they can never take that away from me again."

The competition was still open, and Feng Yan had time to prepare. She would pour all of her skills and passion into this work, just as she had in her past life. But this time, she would make sure that it was her name that everyone remembered.

With a plan forming in her mind, Feng Yan put her phone down and lay back on the bed. The anger and pain from her memories still lingered, but now they were tempered with a sense of purpose. She was no longer the timid, desperate girl who would allow herself to be used and discarded.

This time, I'll fight back, she promised herself. This time, I'll win.

As she drifted off to sleep, her mind was filled with visions of the painting she would create—a masterpiece that would reclaim everything that had been stolen from her and secure her place as the true artist she was always meant to be.