Long before that man killed him, forcing a regression to his fetal state, three defining moments shaped Qiao Mingye. The central catalyst in all of them was her: Qiao Ling, his own mother.
While floating in the womb with only a sliver of external awareness, his sole ambition was to get as far away from that woman as possible once born.
Yet, what was he supposed to do when the mother responsible for his previous downfall behaved nothing like her past self?
More importantly, how the hell did her trash martial spirit become so broken?
Standing amidst a mountain of corpses, the two-year-old stared at a petite back.
Silver strands swayed in the air like a waterfall. Despite the surrounding massacre, her clothes remained pristine, not a single stain in sight.
Above her head, the spirit hovered—a silent, ominous presence.
She liked to call it… The Camera.
Her focus locked onto the rider hovering in the sky atop a dragon.
"Qiao Ling! I offer you a choice," the stranger shouted coldly. "Be my concubine and hand over that bastard son. Or die."
Qiao Mingye trembled with rage.
Flash.
The shutter clicked. A perfect replica of the warlord—who had just slaughtered a city and threatened her child—materialized next to the floating lens.
The toddler facepalmed. He knew exactly what came next.
Tilting her head, Qiao Ling looked back at him, purple eyes brimming with mirth.
"Son, how's Mommy's photography? Even though I'm a genius shooter, the subject is ugly. So the output feels below average. But the technique? Undeniably a masterpiece."
Both the rider and beast shuddered as she continued.
"Without that lizard, this guy is no better than a beggar."
Beneath the man, the dragon instantly exploded into gore. His heartbroken wails were cut short by her next observation.
"Hmm… actually, if he simply wasn't here, I wouldn't have wasted the film. What a pity."
Then, the man ceased to exist.
"Let's go home."
A radiant smile lit up her otherworldly face as she reached down, pulling him into a hug.
Qiao Mingye buried his face in her chest, stealing one last complex glance at the empty battlefield.
He had been wrong.
Escaping his mother was impossible; she would always be the catalyst shaping his reality.
Only this time… he didn't hate it.
To understand why, you must hear about his life these past two years.
And for that, we need to look through her eyes.
*
* *
I reigned as the undisputed queen of Hollywood paparazzi. Not a single celebrity ever managed to escape my lens. I had reached the absolute peak of my profession, feared and hated in equal measure.
Bang.
A heavy fist slammed into my jaw, instantly blurring my already fading consciousness. Directly above me hovered the face of Rick—or Richard—that golden-boy actor everyone loved.
Usually, he wore a charming smile, but right now, his handsome features were stained with raw anger.
Two bodyguards held me down. One pinned my shoulders to the hard floor, while the other straddled my waist, wearing a greedy, disgusting grin.
"How dare you destroy my career?" Richard scowled, his voice dripping with venom. "Let me show you exactly how it feels to have your private moments leaked onto the internet."
He signaled the thug sitting on me. Obediently, the man yanked his T-shirt up, exposing his dark, charcoal skin to the cold air.
A distinct clicking sound reached my ears, but I grimaced. It came from my own gear.
"Damn it… that shutter sounded wrong. There's no battery left. Don't you dare break it; that thing costs a literal fortune."
It took nearly ten years of slaving away in my youth just to afford that specific model. Boasting 20k resolution video quality and a global shutter, the device snapped perfect pictures even inside a pitch-black room.
The raw video output, recording at massive bitrates, helped me capture the slightest micro-expressions on the faces of lying celebrities.
Although the casing was military-grade durability, I always handled it like a fragile piece of glass. Watching these idiots manhandle it so roughly made my heart feel like it was about to explode in my chest.
"What! You crazy bitch, you're still thinking about a camera when you're about to become a whore?"
Bang.
Another slap rocked my face. Ugh. That really hurt. Fiercely, I glared up at the slapper.
"You Motherfu—"
Bang.
A third strike. Then, a loud crack echoed. Not from the camera, of course.
Suddenly, the face of the man who hit me changed color, draining of blood until he was pale. Shouldn't that terrified expression be on my face?
Wait. Why did no words come out? Their lips were moving as if they were screaming.
Ah. It must be my ears. It seemed I had gone deaf. But why was my sight slowly losing clarity if only my hearing had stopped functioning?
Had I gone blind, too?
No. This sensation felt different.
It felt like…
Like what?
Like…
Who was I again?
Oh.
"I'm going to die."
"Not if you push the baby, Madam!"
"Ahhh… push what?!" I screamed, experiencing a level of pain I never imagined existed in this world. My blurry eyes adjusted to the dim light above, and my gaze fell onto my own outstretched legs.
Push what?
"Urghhhhhh…"
Another wave of agony hit me, feeling as if it intended to tear away all my intestines and pull them out through my hips. My consciousness felt like it was going to re-click itself off again.
"I'm gonna die. Ugh."
"Push… just push!"
"Fucking stop saying push! I quit. Urghhh…"
If I didn't know what was happening to me, then I would be an absolute idiot. I died, and then I transmigrated. Unlike everyone else in novels, I arrived as a woman mid-labor. What the hell was this luck?
'So this is why she hated me this much…'
A soft voice echoed inside my head. It must be an illusion. Fuck, I didn't have the resolve to pinpoint the source. Right now, I just wanted to cease existing.
"Just kill me… no, cut it open and take that thing out!"
'She didn't even consider me human.'
"Aaahhhhh…"
With a final, desperate push—strength I didn't know where I summoned from—I finally emptied whatever was in my stomach.
Desperately, I gasped for air, waiting to hear the sound which was supposed to come after giving birth.
Although I didn't keep this baby in my womb for ten months, I was the one who experienced the torture of childbirth.
Since I paid the price, I didn't want to see anything happen to the product. After not hearing its cries, panic set in.
"Madam, it's a baby boy."
Ah. So he didn't die.
"…But is he dumb? Why isn't he crying?"
'Your mother is dumb. Your whole family is dumb.'
"Waaaaaaaaa….."