Chapter 1

I am the eldest in the family, my younger sister has been weak and sickly since birth.

For over twenty years, I have been working hard without complaint, but they are never satisfied.

Whenever my sister makes a mistake and gets punished, it's always me who takes the hit.

Finally, when I was diagnosed with lung cancer, I fled home, traveled, preparing to die somewhere outside, out of anyone's way.

Waiting for life to fade away till the very last moment.

But I never thought it wasn't the lung cancer that pushed me to the brink, but my mother's attacks on the internet.

I was driven to death, alive.

Died on a bus...full of people's conceited fervor, the most ordinary bus.

Died under the weight of rumors!

But I am unwilling, I want them to pay the price.

1.

The doctor held my scans, sighed, unsure how to speak.

I roughly guessed it; the last check-up at the top hospital revealed it was lung cancer.

Maybe I have been living too exhausted, my first reaction upon learning this was relief.

To ensure it wasn't a misdiagnosis, I went to another hospital for verification.

The doctor hesitated to speak, seemingly unwilling to tell such a heart-wrenching news to a young girl like me.

I understood, indeed it's the late stage.

The hospital corridor was filled with various hopeless cries, yet I shed no tears, dared not cry.

Others fall ill with family by their side, whereas tears in front of my parents would only be bothersome.

In their eyes, how could I deserve to be sick? Only their cherished younger daughter could have such a qualification.

To me, they would only say, "Why are you being so delicate?"

In middle school, due to their excessive favoritism, I developed anxiety disorder, depression and unease, often sleepless leading to decline in studies.

They showed no concern about my grades, good or bad, whether first or last.

The homeroom teacher couldn't bear it and took me to see a doctor, which was when I learned I had psychological issues, and even took me for dessert to comfort me.

So sweet, so sweet.

That day was the first time I went home late, delaying the chores.

I took out the diagnosis report to tell them I was sick, my father crumpled it and threw it in the trash, saying don't believe these useless things, how could one easily get such illnesses, how come growing up made one so delicate.

The tone was full of disdain.

My mother assumed I was mimicking my sister, deliberately seeking attention, avoiding chores, whipped me harshly, then instructed me to work.

[How can you be like your sister? After dinner, quickly wash the dishes, then hand-wash your sister's clothes. Chloe's skin is sensitive, can't use the washing machine, don't forget to wipe the floor too.]

So humble!

2.

I sat on the bench outside the hospital, stuffed the diagnosis report into the bag, squinting to enjoy the afternoon sunlight, rare ease.

A long while later, the phone rang, it was mother!

I answered unhurriedly, only to hear her stern rebuke [What are you doing, taking so long to answer the phone, your sister is going to camp this week, quickly transfer 2000 yuan to her.]

I retorted [Don't you have money?]

[Don't talk nonsense, just transfer it quickly, our earnings have to be saved for your sister's dowry in the future!]

I was stunned for a few seconds before speaking [Then if...I'm sick and need money for treatment, just short these 2000 yuan?]

My illness has reached late stage, treating it or not makes no difference, just a few more months to live.

Knowing it's impossible to get a satisfactory response, but I couldn't hold back, blurting out.

Her answer truly didn't disappoint [Lily White! Don't try to get attention from me, how could you be sick, don't tell me it's another depression or some useless thing, not so fragile, if you don't want to give money just say so.]

[I see you got a job and moved out, feeling strong now, have money to buy a house but short this 2000 yuan, don't make me go to your company to block you, then see how your colleagues think of you.]

Although it's been twenty years listening to these harsh words, my heart still aches faintly.

[Alright, don't speak anymore, I'll transfer it immediately.]

The goal achieved, she hung up instantly, as if saying another word to me would cost her life.

I only found it laughable, buying a house? Where would I get money to buy a house, every month as soon as the salary is paid, she made me buy this and that for Chloe White.

Sister wants a lot, likes a lot, relying on parents' spoiling, every month the accumulated shopping cart awaits me to clean, without thousands how can it be done.

I don't want to indulge her, she would complain, mother would make a scene at my company, all colleagues' eyes focused, like I was a clown stripped naked, ridiculed by everyone.

Helpless, no other way, I always compromised.

3.

The place I work is a high-tech company, but just working for a year only has a salary of seven to eight thousand, saving every penny even without eating or drinking wouldn't be enough to buy a house.

I simply co-rent with someone, this way it's cheaper, yet she never bothers coming to where I live to see me, only remembers me when she needs money.

This is the last time I transferred money to them, I took the remaining savings, quit the job, prepared to travel to a place with mountains and water.

To die in a naturally beautiful place is also a perfect end.

Orleigh is a good place.

I arrived at a homestay, the house partly built in the woods was beautifully decorated, walls wrapped with vines and roses, the yard planted with many beautiful flowers, like living in a fairy tale.

To suit the environment here, I replaced black and gray with brightly colored dresses, in the mirror I looked like Cinderella turned into a princess.

But upon raising an arm, seeing the scar on my hand immediately returned to the original form.

I gently caressed the rough unevenness of this area.

Originally, this was a large scar, over time it gradually faded, but upon touching, the pain from years ago still vivid and etched in memory.

I was 11 that year, sister was four years younger.

The family ran a small restaurant, weekends when busy, they would hand my sister to me to look after.

Sister was spoiled and naughty, always had many strange ideas.

I wouldn't let her do dangerous things but she insisted, always going against me.

I was preparing to make her lunch, she suddenly wanted to try, saying she wanted to surprise mom and dad.

I wouldn't agree and she cried, even afraid she'd tattletale to mom, I still didn't agree, because in case she got hurt, the consequences I couldn't bear.

4.

Since I didn't agree, she held onto my pants not letting me move, clawed with her fingers, bit me with her teeth.

I locked the kitchen door leaving her outside, only then finished cooking.

Perhaps because I didn't go along with her plan, she vented by breaking the lunch I painstakingly made.

At such a young age she was spoiled, arms crossed [Humph, who asked you not to pay attention to me, told you not to listen to me.]

I sighed and cleaned up the mess, yet she insisted on making trouble.

Who would have thought she would slip on the fragments and knock over the boiling kettle nearby.

I acted promptly, pushing her away to protect her; she only got her fingers scalded, while half my arm, including my hand, was red and blistered.

My sister cried loudly, and I could only call my parents to hurry back.

As soon as they entered the house, my father was the first to scoop up my sister, looking her over with concern.

Seeing the mess all over the floor, my mother was furious, "Is this how you watch over your sister?"

I tried to defend myself, "It was her who..."

Before I could finish, my mother slapped me hard.

My face burned with pain.

"You can't even handle such a small thing, what kind of sister are you, a useless wretch."

"If anything happens to Chloe, I'll beat you to death."

I was dumbfounded by the hit.

My father saw my shocking injuries and intervened, "Alright... let's take the kids to the hospital first!"

We were treated simultaneously; Chloe was hugged by mother, comforted by father.

5.

When the nurse burst my blister, I couldn't help but cry out in pain and shed tears, only to be met with a scornful look from my mother, "Does it hurt that much? If you had watched your sister, Chloe wouldn't have to suffer like this, and you still dare to cry out in pain."

I looked towards my father—was that what he thought too?

He said nothing, silently agreeing with my mother's words.

I bit my lower lip hard to prevent myself from losing control over my feelings of grievance and sadness.

Chloe snuggled in mother's arms, holding a doll father bought, basking in the happiness of being cared for, raising her chin smugly.

The nurse couldn't bear to watch and kindly blocked my sight, not letting me look.

Her movements became even more gentle, afraid of hurting me.

I felt grateful.

No matter how sick I got, in their eyes, I was never as important as my sister.

"Pretentious" was the word they said to me the most.

They used to adore me, but when did things start to change?

It was probably when my sister was born; everything changed.

When mother was pregnant with my sister, she had a fight with father and was so upset she went into premature labor.

The sister was born with great difficulty, weak because of the premature birth, but luckily she survived.

The doctor said my sister's body was more prone to illness than other children, so the family needed to spend more effort in caring for her.

Indeed, my sister frequently had fever and vomited, breaking their hearts.

She blamed father, saying if it weren't for him, the sister would be a healthy child.

Father knew he was at fault, feeling guilty, hence he shifted all his attention from me to my sister.

6.

When I was young, I didn't understand anything; watching mother coax my sister to eat and play games, I would cling to her pants, fussing and getting jealous.

Perhaps annoyed by my behavior, she would yank her leg away, kicking me aside.

My head hit the table leg; I cried out in pain, looking at mother expectantly, hoping she would come to pick me up.

She glanced at me indifferently, "You're this big already, why are you competing for affection with your sister? Get up by yourself."

For the first time, I realized mother wasn't the same as before.

I had never understood why they treated my sister better than me; was it just because she was frail?

Later, I found out that I wasn't their biological daughter at all.

They had desperately wanted a child for years, but mother's health wasn't good, and the doctor said the chances of her getting pregnant were slim.

So they adopted me, and at first, they treated me very well.

Until they had their own daughter, they gradually grew cold and even indifferent towards me, eventually reaching the point of resentment.

My sister's hands never touched chores, while I became her servant, doing all the dirty and tiring work; at twenty-something, my hands were full of weariness.

Everything I originally had was taken and given to my sister, even the only favorite doll I had was taken away, even though she didn't like it.

I knew it was useless to fight; no one was on my side, no matter what, everything was my fault.

I was an insignificant existence in the family, father ignored me, sister and mother treated me like a punching bag.

If my sister was unhappy, mother would hit me; if my sister's grades dropped, mother would hit me, saying I didn't teach well, calling me evil-minded; even when my sister fell in love early, it was me who got beaten because mother couldn't bear to hit her, so she took it out on me.

She always had various tools and methods to beat me, using whatever was at hand, be it a basin or a broom.

I shook my head to cast aside the sad memories in my mind, not wanting to think anymore!

I decided to go to the market for a walk; I'm going to die anyway, at least I should spend these last days happily.

7.

"Lily, going out!"

The owners of the guesthouse, Auntie Quinn and her husband, were warm-hearted and chatty, greeting me affectionately each time.

Seeing me alone, they would invite me to have meals with them, taking good care of me.

Today is my birthday, and no one remembers; I haven't celebrated a birthday in many years.

This last year, I want to buy a gift for myself to fill the regret.

The market was bustling, but I only strolled for a while before feeling exhausted, unable to continue.

As I struggled to stand, fortunately, a gentleman supported me in time, preventing me from falling.

"Are you alright?"

His features were finely chiseled, his voice gentle; he seemed like a very kind person.

I shook my head, indicating I was fine, smiled in thanks, and turned to leave.

With no energy to continue strolling, I randomly bought a cute doll and a strawberry cake, intending to go back to the guesthouse and share with Auntie Quinn and the others.

Just as I entered the door, I had a nosebleed, grateful I made it back in time.

I rushed into the bathroom to rinse and wipe away the seemingly unending blood.

Throughout this month here, nosebleeds had become more frequent, constant fatigue and more hair loss all heralding the end of my life.

I didn't care; I took medicine to relieve the pain, consumed another to alleviate anxiety to avoid insomnia, a routine daily necessity.

A noise broke the silence—an unfamiliar number called.

"Hello..."

As soon as the call connected, there was a hysterical roar from the other side.

"Lily White, what's wrong with you? The company said you resigned, you don't respond to messages, yet dare to block us, I tell you, the house caught fire, we are going to stay at your place now; hurry up and send us the address."

"Did you hear me? Don't play dead on me, we've raised you for so many years not for nothing, hurry back and pick us up; if it delays your sister's school tomorrow, just watch how I'll deal with you."