Chapter 1 — Ending the Parasitic Life

My household is bound to my uncle’s family by a bizarre "doubling effect system." If my father earns ten thousand, my uncle’s stock account instantly inflates by twenty thousand without reason. If my mother visits a beauty clinic for a facial, my aunt’s rough, weathered skin miraculously becomes twice as fair and smooth. My parents spent years scrimping and saving to move into a bright, spacious apartment, and my uncle immediately bought the luxury townhouse next door in the same complex.

The pattern held until the final day of the college entrance exams. I had accidentally consumed something tainted in my water, and as I struggled to finish my last paper through waves of stomach cramps, I assumed I was done for. Yet, in that exact moment, the emergency medical staff rushed onto the scene at a different exam hall, frantic and breathless, hauling my cousin out of the room. He had suffered a total, violent loss of bowel and bladder control right at his desk.

Exiting my own exam, my parents rushed me straight to the hospital, baffled and frantic. They could not understand how I, who had always been a mediocre student with nerves of steel, could have become so stressed that I developed severe stomach spasms. But compared to me, my cousin’s predicament was nothing short of catastrophic. Because his breakdown was so spectacular and public, the city’s top hospital had to summon a team of experts for a consultation. They prodded and poked at him as if he were a prototype being tested for flaws, yet they found no physiological reason for a candidate to simultaneously suffer a total digestive collapse and behave like a leaking machine gun. The experts finally reached a consensus: it must have been the overwhelming psychological pressure of the entrance exams causing such a catastrophic shutdown.

My grandparents wailed and sobbed throughout the hospital corridor, "My golden grandson, my precious treasure, how you have suffered! Our Talent has always been an effortless scholar, the very sprout destined for the top universities in the country—who would have thought the pressure would crush him like this?"

I walked past the emergency room, the red light glowing ominously above the door, and listened to their mournful cries. Anyone who didn't know better would have thought the boy was dead. My parents glanced at each other, hesitating, but the moment my grandmother spotted me, she lunged forward like an enraged hen, her eyes bloodshot. "You wretched little jinx, what are you doing here? Did you come to mock your cousin now that he’s ill?"

I thought to myself: So, even she realizes how ridiculous this situation is.

My mother’s face hardened; she pulled me behind her in a protective gesture while my father stepped forward to restrain my grandmother. "Mother, what are you doing? La Ky is sick too, she just came from a different department."

My grandmother showed no sympathy; instead, she glared at me with pure venom. "That girl is sick? She must have brought this bad luck upon Talent! She intentionally sabotaged his chances of getting into the top universities!"

My mother could no longer contain her fury. "My daughter is sick, and you call it bad luck, but your precious grandson ruins his pants in front of everyone and sprays filth all over the other students' exam papers, and that isn't bad luck? Keep spewing your nonsense and see if the bad karma doesn't just settle on your golden grandson’s precious rear end!"

My grandmother’s eyes widened as if she’d been struck by lightning; her mouth hung open, but the words died in her throat. My mother smiled, a sharp, knowing glint in her eyes. "If children meet with disaster, it’s surely because their elders have accrued bad karma! Keep cursing if you want; my daughter’s spirit is iron-tough, but I doubt your fragile, precious grandson can survive the weight of your own sins."

My grandmother was shaking with rage, her knuckles white as she gripped her fists, her teeth grinding audibly. My grandfather, unable to bear the scene, barked, "That is enough!" He glared at my father. "Can’t you say anything?"

My father stammered, "Father, I’m not good with words—I learned that from you. You didn't say a word yourself."

My grandfather’s face turned deep crimson. He waved his hand dismissively. "Get out of my sight, all of you!"

We left, but the mood was vastly different. My father and I let out sighs of relief, but my mother was practically beaming. Honestly, my mother was once a gentle, poised woman; she had only developed this razor-sharp wit through over a decade of sparring with my grandmother. To have silenced her so completely was a victory she would savor for days.

For years, my father had always stood by my mother’s side. The reason was simple—my grandmother was intolerable. Not only was she obsessed with male heirs, but she also constantly claimed I had an "ill-fated" destiny. More than a decade ago, my cousin and I were born less than an hour apart. Because our birth times were so close, my grandmother listened to a wandering fortune-teller who claimed that because I was born, the "light" of my cousin was diminished—that we were cosmic enemies. My grandmother took this to heart and tried to drive me away. My parents, naturally, refused. From then on, every time she saw me, her face would turn to stone.

My parents, both highly educated, naturally scoffed at such feudal superstitions. Knowing how much she despised me, they had me raised in the city with my maternal grandparents. I thought that by keeping us apart, time would fade the nonsense about our "clashing fates." But my uncle’s family never saw it that way. When I started elementary school, they moved to the city. My parents bought an apartment, and my uncle bought a townhouse in the same complex. They insisted we attend the same school, even forcing my aunt to open a clothing boutique directly across from my mother’s office. It was inescapable.

True to form, shortly after we left the hospital, my uncle’s phone began ringing like a funeral bell. My mother answered it, holding the device at arm’s length. My uncle’s voice was trembling with rage: "Little Chinh! Did anything happen while you were driving earlier?"

My father glanced at the phone with pure disgust. "No! I was driving normally. Why would anything happen?"

My uncle pressed on: "I heard La Ky is sick too. Is that true?"

My mother rolled her eyes. "Brother-in-law, if there is nothing else, I am hanging up."

"Wait, wait..." My mother cut the call and put the phone on silent. "You couldn't find this kind of crazy if you mined for it in a gold mine! Years ago, he actually cared about us, but now he’s just like your mother. Whenever his son has a problem, he blames La Ky."

My father said quietly, "My brother didn't say that... let it go. Both kids are stressed about the exams; let’s not dwell on it."

My mother looked at me from the passenger seat, offering a gentle smile. "La Ky, you did your best. Don't put too much pressure on yourself."

I looked at a WeChat message my uncle had just sent: 【La Ky, is your father really okay?】 Why was he so worried about my father’s driving?

When we arrived at the parking garage, my mother stepped out and noticed a large strip of paint missing from the side of the car. My father pulled out a Tom the Cat sticker and slapped it over the scratch. "Money is tight at the company; this will do for now."

That night, I idly scrolled through my social media feed and saw a post from my classmate, Lu Khue, who had been traveling to the suburbs that afternoon: 【Today is a nightmare! I encountered a ‘biological weapon’ at the exam hall, and then as soon as I left the city, I got into a three-car pileup. May the heavens treat me better tomorrow.】

The attached photo showed a chain-reaction collision on the overpass. The car in the lead had a completely crumpled trunk. And in the corner of the photo, there was my uncle, standing on the side of the road, furiously shaking his phone.

What a coincidence.

That evening, the news broadcast a blurry segment of the entrance exam surveillance footage. My cousin was sitting in his chair, suddenly flailing his arms and screaming, "I can't take it anymore!" As he rose, his trousers fell. The students nearby were "hit" by the fallout. Their exam papers were covered in something truly revolting. The news station had thoughtfully blurred the "eruption" from his rear.

We hadn't turned on the TV in ages, but my father had received a tip from an acquaintance and switched it on just in time to see the disaster. The acquaintance had laughed on the phone, "The station is strange, why blur his backside? They should have blurred his face!"

My father was too embarrassed to respond. Even with the blur, it was easy to recognize my cousin’s "magnificent" frame—six-foot-two and two hundred and fifty pounds. He sat heavily on the floor, and the more he struggled, the more stuck he became.

My mother let out a sharp sound and changed the channel. My father hung up the phone. "How is Talent? I wonder if his exam scores will be affected."

My mother smirked. "Even if he is affected, your mother will still blame La Ky first. Even if he does well, she will mock us and still blame La Ky. I think I’ll worry about our own daughter instead."