In my past life, my name was Fat Cat. A game booster so lowly I was dust, treated by her as a spare tire to be swapped out at will. I ate expired instant noodles and watched my balance dwindle, yet time and again I transferred her large sums of money. Every penny scrimped and saved, every bit of fawning and giving, all poured into that black hole named Tan Zhu. I once believed that if I worked hard enough, I could earn a ticket to marriage. Only at the very end did I understand: in her script, I was never the leading man.