Resurrected: Unveiling the Mystery of Telepathy

Resurrected: Unveiling the Mystery of Telepathy

Blake Jewell

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I'm a rising star in the art world, but I've been subjected to online harassment due to a plagiarism scandal. Every time I finish a new piece, my boyfriend's "first love" posts an identical painting the very next moment. She portrays herself as a highly educated and talented artist, manipulating public opinion online, which has led to my entire family being targeted by cyberbullying. Yet, behind the scenes, she orders me to keep creating. I was cornered when I went out and was brutally attacked to death on the spot. My parents, in a state of mental disarray, were driven to depression by the online exposure and turned gray-haired one after another. Before I died, I was filled with regret, wanting to understand what was happening. When I woke up again, I found myself back on the day before my work was published.

Chapter 1

I am a rising star in the art world, but I was subjected to online harassment due to accusations of plagiarism.

Every time I finished a new piece, my boyfriend's "ideal woman" would release an identical painting the very next moment.

She portrayed herself as an acclaimed and talented artist, manipulating public opinion and causing my entire family to be harassed online.

Behind the scenes, she ordered me to keep creating.

I was cornered and beaten to death when I went out.

My parents were left in a daze, driven to severe depression by the online abuse, and their health deteriorated.

In my final moments, I was filled with regret, wanting to understand what had happened.

When I woke up again, I found myself back on the day before I released my work.

"Xiaoyi, it's so late. You should go to bed," my mom said, bringing a glass of milk to my side, her eyes full of worry.

Had I been reborn?

My hand shook uncontrollably, and red paint smeared across the eyes of the half-naked woman in my painting, as if someone had covered her eyes, preventing her from seeing the truth.

Just like me.

My mom, an art teacher, nodded in satisfaction and praised, "That's my daughter, always so bold and ahead of her time with her creations."

The youth competition was in five days, and she reminded me to submit my work before then.

I let out a long sigh of relief.

In my previous life, I submitted my work at noon, but I didn't expect my boyfriend's ideal woman, Emma, to release hers half an hour earlier.

Everyone noticed our identical works, and during the voting phase, they left comments.

The title of art prodigy was completely erased, and everyone flocked to my Instagram and Twitter, leaving messages telling me to die, get into a car accident, and even found my parents' information, demanding the education bureau stop them from teaching.

They claimed, "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

"

I explained repeatedly, posting my creative process and video blogs online, trying to prove my innocence through the timeline.

But she released an identical creative sequence.

My classmates defended me, but no one believed them.

Thinking of this, my heart tightened, and I decided to check Emma's Twitter.

I found that she had blocked me.

Was this a guilty conscience?

She even blocked me on Instagram, making her posts invisible to me.

I created a small account and finally saw her updates.

Her painting had been professionally edited to appear blurry.

But I knew she had painted a half-naked goddess, with the same red streak over the eyes.

How could this be?

I created it with a new canvas and fresh paint, untouched by anyone else.

How could it be identical? The most liked comment on Twitter was from Ethan, calling her a goddess.

In the replies, people were eagerly waiting for their sweet moments, saying they were a perfect match.

In my previous life, I was so immersed in the art world that I never doubted Ethan's sincerity.

I naively believed we would be together.

I never expected that after the plagiarism incident, he would defend Emma at every turn, harshly criticizing me and abruptly breaking up with me.

Now, I was disheartened and saw him for who he truly was.

I still couldn't understand how two unrelated people could create identical works.

Was this reasonable?

I couldn't figure it out and sat in front of the canvas for a long time.

Until my mom urged me again, advising me to sleep.

I agreed on the surface, backed up the photos on my computer and phone, and then, with a determined heart, painted over the goddess entirely in black.

I still had five days. With my skills, I could easily create another piece.

I wanted to see what she would do next.

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