Chapter 2: Looking Back Yang Jiang's Pov

For the first time in my life, I felt a thrill of excitement about going to a party. As I rummaged through my closet, my enthusiasm began to wane. Nothing seemed suitable for the occasion, and to make matters worse, nothing matched the theme.1The invitation had clearly stated that the theme was white, yet my closet was devoid of anything plain white.

Frustration began to set in as I pondered my next move. In my frantic search, I accidentally knocked over a stack of papers. As I gathered them, I noticed a note from my mother reminding me to do some jewelry shopping.

An idea suddenly struck me. "Yes!" I thought. "I should probably go out shopping." However, shopping was not something I enjoyed, and it would undoubtedly attract attention since I would be doing it at one of the university malls. Most of my classmates knew I despised shopping, especially when it involved spending money. But I had a valid excuse, right? If anyone asked, I could simply say I was shopping for my mother.1

I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth. Despite my current stable situation, I could never forget how my mother and I struggled to make ends meet by selling groceries from our small village home, a legacy from her late parents. My mother had gotten pregnant in her early days while working as a maid.1

There was a time when my father came home drunk after partying all night with his friends. My mother, being the maid, had to take the responsibility of tucking him into bed since his parents were not at home. Though I don't know the exact details, I was deeply affected by what transpired. My father left for further studies abroad, unaware that my mother was already expecting his child. My mother, unsure of how to deal with his parents, decided to return to the village. Those four years were the most challenging yet the most memorable of my life.1

After a moment of reflection, I grabbed my side bag and headed out for shopping. My father had given me a card I could use whenever I needed to, but I had never felt the urge to use it. However, realizing that my earnings from part-time jobs weren't enough to buy suitable gifts befitting my family's status, I had to swallow my pride and use the card.

Even after my father officially married my mother, I still didn't want to depend on him. I wanted to prove to my grandparents that I could stand on my own, that I didn't need their beloved son's money.1

My grandparents only cared about my younger brothers, claiming that even though my mother said I was my father's daughter, they still rejected me. This was because I didn't resemble my father, unlike my siblings who were exact copies of him.

As I pondered these thoughts, I remembered that my younger brother's eighteenth birthday was in two days, and I needed to get him a birthday gift.