Chapter 1 — Just Because I'm the Older Sister

When the college entrance exam scores were released, my mother rarely carried a plate of fruit into my room. Yet, before I could even feel a trace of joy, she preemptively announced her verdict:

“Your father and I have discussed this. We plan to have you and your younger sister apply to the exact same university and major.”

“That way, once you are both on campus, you can continue to look after her. It will also be much more convenient for your father and me to drive you both back and forth during the holidays.”

Stunned disbelief rooted me to the spot. I raised my head, staring at her in sheer incredulity:

“Mom, I scored 702 points while my sister only managed 456. You expect me to attend the same mediocre college as her?”

Her expression hardened instantly, her brow furrowing deeply as though I were throwing a baseless, unreasonable tantrum:

“If you are truly smart, it shouldn’t matter which school you go to.”

“Enough already. Stop making a fuss over nothing. Your father and I have already made our decision.”

Before she could turn away and leave, I choked out a final question:

“And what if I tell you that I refuse?”

Without even glancing back, her voice rang out with absolute, chilling certainty:

“Then don’t expect to receive a single penny of tuition money from us.”

I stood frozen in the center of the room, my body trembling beyond my control. My lips parted and closed repeatedly before I finally summoned the courage to voice the question I had buried deep within my heart for years:

“Mom, is my sister your daughter, and am I not?”

The retreating figure didn’t bother to answer. Instead, the bedroom door was slammed shut with a deafening crash that vibrated through the floorboards. Faintly, I could hear her complaining to someone else just outside:

“I merely told her to attend the same university as her younger sister, yet she acts as though she has suffered the greatest injustice in the world.”

“Have I ever let her go hungry or lack clothing all these years? And yet she has the audacity to ask if she’s truly our daughter. It breaks my heart to hear such ingratitude.”

“Besides, isn’t it only natural for an elder sister to take care of her younger sibling? She has simply been spoiled rotten, constantly competing with her sister over every little thing.”

My fingernails dug crescent-shaped wounds deep into my palms. Lowering my gaze, the corners of my mouth twitched into a bitter, self-mocking smile. From the time I was a child, those exact words had been the soundtrack of my existence. Because I was the older sister, I was expected to be understanding, to yield to everything. Because of this, the finest food at the dinner table was always reserved for her; the new clothes were always bought for her first. Even when she tore up my certificates of merit or ruined my favorite dresses with a pair of scissors, I was forbidden from uttering a single word of reproach. But Mother, I was only born one hour earlier than her! In the dim, suffocating gloom of the room, turned completely away from the daylight, I wrapped my arms around myself and sat in absolute silence for a long time. At last, my trembling fingers reached for my phone, and I dialed a number:

“Director Liu, about that overseas university scholarship you mentioned before... is it still possible for me to apply?”

The voice on the other end erupted in ecstatic disbelief:

“Of course it is! Thanh Vi, you’ve finally agreed. The admissions committee saw your exceptional academic competition records and specifically requested your application.”

“They even promised a full waiver for tuition and all miscellaneous fees. It is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that others would kill for.”

“Wait right there, I am going to submit your credentials immediately.”

The moment the call ended, a sudden, breathless laugh escaped my lips. A profound sense of weightlessness washed over me, as if a parasite that had fed on my vitality since childhood had finally been starved of its nourishment. A soft chime broke the quiet. I unlocked the screen to find a WeChat notification from my older brother. Attached was a digital red envelope containing precisely 702 yuan, accompanied by a virtual head-pat sticker. [As expected of our Vi Vi, scoring such a magnificent grade. You truly make your brother proud.] A gentle warmth bloomed in my chest. I wiped the stray tears from my cheeks and hastily typed back a message of deep gratitude. His reply came almost instantly: [I am already standing outside your front door. Come open it quickly. I have a wonderful surprise for both you and Chau Chau.] Encouraged by these kind words, I quietly pulled my bedroom door open. In the living room, my mother was hurriedly stuffing a freshly washed bowl of cherries into Giang Thanh Chau’s hands.

“Take these back to your room and eat them in secret.”

“If your gluttonous older sister catches sight of them, there won’t be any left for you.”

A dull, familiar ache returned to throb within my chest. The habit she labeled as "gluttony" had originated when I was eight years old. Back then, utterly unable to resist the temptation, I had quietly tasted a single cherry left over on my sister’s plate. My mother had caught me in the act and violently snatched it from my grasp. From that day forward, she cemented the narrative in her mind that I was a greedy monster who constantly tried to steal food from her darling younger daughter. I turned my gaze toward the stale, shriveled plate of apples she had dropped off in my room earlier—the very fruit Giang Thanh Chau despised most. Stepping out into the hallway, I caught my sister off guard. She flinched, instinctively shoving the bowl of cherries behind her back, and offered a sheepish, nervous smile:

“Oh, sister? Why did you suddenly come out of your room?”

My mother glanced suspiciously at the bowl hidden behind her younger daughter’s back, and in the next second, glared daggers at me:

“Why do you even need to ask? She undoubtedly smelled the fruit and came crawling out.”

Reaching out with an exaggerated sigh of martyrdom, she picked out the three smallest, bruised cherries from the bowl and thrust them toward my face:

“Here. This portion is yours. Don’t go around claiming I play favorites, especially when you already have a plate of apples waiting in your room.”

I neither accepted the offering nor uttered a word. I simply stepped back in silence, avoiding her outstretched hand entirely. Parents rarely humbled themselves before their children, and unloved children learned early on never to expect such grace. Faced with my silent resistance, my mother felt no need for self-reflection or apology; instead, her anger flared hotter:

“I genuinely fail to understand what pathetic drama you are trying to manufacture today.”

“Your father and I break our backs working outside, earning money just to feed and clothe you. And what do we get when we finally return home? Nothing except your sour, miserable face.”

“Can’t you learn from your sister and show a little appreciation for how hard your parents work?”

Standing off to the side, Giang Thanh Chau tugged gently at the hem of my mother’s blouse:

“Oh, Mom, please stop scolding her. I’m sure sister is just in a bad mood today.”

Ignoring the pair of them entirely, I hurried toward the front door, desperate for escape. Outside, my brother was holding up a vibrant bouquet of sunflowers:

“Ta-da! Congratulations to our brilliant Thanh Vi for claiming the top score in the entire provincial science division!”

A genuine smile broke across my face as I accepted the heavy bouquet:

“Thank you, brother, I—”

Before I could finish, a petulant, spoiled voice rang out from behind me:

“Brother! You can’t just show favoritism simply because sister got a higher score! I’ll be very angry if you do.”

True to form, the very next instant, my brother retrieved a large, ribbon-wrapped tower gift box from behind his back.

“How could I ever forget our little Chau Chau? Vi Vi has her flowers, so naturally, my dear sister cannot go without a gift.”

“Look at this—since she scored 456, I spent exactly 45,600 yuan to put together a complete set of high-end electronics for her. That took four entire months of my salary!”

With a squeal of delight, Giang Thanh Chau lunged forward to wrap her arms around our brother’s neck. Meanwhile, I stood abandoned in the corner, clutching my solitary bouquet of sunflowers with stiff, unmoving hands.

The three of them swept past me like a gust of wind, laughing and chattering as they drifted toward the living room. Faintly, my sister’s syrupy sweet voice reached my ears:

“Mom, big brother already bought me a laptop, a tablet, and a phone, but we certainly can’t leave Mom and Dad out of the treats!”

“I want to go on a trip with my classmates. Dearest Mom, will you sponsor ten thousand yuan for my travel expenses?”

Though my mother verbally scolded her as a "little money-grubber," her hands moved without hesitation to unlock her phone and execute a transfer. Glancing down at her screen, the younger girl shrieked with excitement and leaped into our mother’s arms:

“Wow, twenty thousand! Mom, I love you the most—”

In a panic, my mother clapped a hand over her mouth. At that exact moment, my own phone buzzed with a notification. I unlocked the screen to find a transfer of one hundred yuan from my mother. Turning her head, she glared at me with visible irritation:

“There. Your sister received a red envelope, and so did you. Stop wearing such a miserable expression and hurry into the kitchen to help me cook.”

I neither claimed the monetary transfer nor obediently followed her toward the kitchen as I had done thousands of times before. For the very first time in my life, a deep surge of rebellion welled up within me, and I refused aloud:

“Didn’t you just say my sister knows how to appreciate her parents' hard work? Why don’t you ask her to go into the kitchen and help?”

Her expression froze, turning icy in a fraction of a second:

“Go ahead and talk back to me again, I dare you. Now that you’ve graduated from high school, do you think your wings are finally strong enough to fly away?”

My brother frowned deeply, fixing me with a look of profound disappointment:

“Vi Vi, you’ve always been the one to handle things in the kitchen. Chau Chau is clumsy and has never set foot in the kitchen since she was a child. How could she possibly be as reliable as you?”

Even Giang Thanh Chau turned around, staring at me with wide, aggrieved eyes as if she had just been subjected to the most monstrous cruelty:

“Sister, can you please keep me out of whatever resentment you hold against Mom? It’s such a waste of effort that I even tried to speak up for you just now.”

“Mom and the aunts were completely right about you. You really are an ungrateful wolf who can never be tamed!”

I turned my head slowly, locking my gaze onto my mother as I repeated her words under my breath:

“An ungrateful wolf who can never be tamed?”

No wonder every time we visited our relatives, their gazes lingered on me with such bizarre, alien coolness. It turned out that behind my back, my mother had been systematically painting me as a villain to the entire extended family. A flicker of guilt crossed my mother’s eyes, but it vanished instantly, replaced by fierce, defensive self-justification:

“Fine, fine! If you refuse to work, then stay out of the kitchen!”

Stomping toward the doorway of the kitchen, she muttered bitterly under her breath:

“Oh, heaven help me, I must have been born under a cursed star. To raise a lazy wretch of a daughter who throws a fit the moment she is asked to lift a finger—”

In the past, those exact words were my greatest terror. Whenever tuition deadlines approached, she would endlessly moan about how exhausting and agonizing life was for her and my father. She would complain of aching backs and sore legs, of swallowing her pride and enduring the contempt of strangers just to earn a living. Those crisp red bills, accompanied by her endless laments of suffering, were counted out meticulously before being shoved into my hands. Though the paper weighed next to nothing, those six bills felt heavier than a mountain, crushing my chest until I could barely draw breath. Afterward, every single time I had to ask her for school fees, a suffocating wave of guilt would drown me. It felt as though my very existence was the anchor dragging them down into misery. Even when I fell violently ill, I would endure the fever for as long as humanly possible, terrified to visit a clinic lest I waste their money and be branded an ungrateful burden. Yet, on one occasion, I had accidentally witnessed her secretly stuffing a thick wad of cash into my sister’s hands, whispering:

“Here, take this. Don’t let that debt-collecting older sister of yours see.”

“Keep it as pocket money. No need to pinch pennies; your parents still have savings set aside.”

My sister had wrapped her arms around our mother’s neck, giggling coquettishly:

“Ah, Mom, you’re the best mother in the entire world—”

It was at that exact moment I learned a devastating truth. When money was given to my sister, there were no bitter lectures about hardship and sacrifice. The recipient was never burdened with the suffocating guilt that made even breathing feel like a crime. I walked over to the shoe cabinet by the front door, gently set down the bouquet of sunflowers I had previously cherished so deeply, and retreated to my bedroom. Locking the door behind me, I sealed out the sounds of their joyous laughter and clinking cutlery. When dinner time arrived, no one came to knock. Only my father, returning late from work, tossed out a casual, indifferent question:

“Where is Thanh Vi? Why is only your mother doing all the chores?”

My mother slammed her rice bowl down onto the dining table with a sharp, echoing clatter:

“She’s locked in her room acting like royalty. Now that her wings have hardened, I wouldn't dare order her around.”

A familiar, stinging heat pricked at the back of my nose, and a dull ache returned to my chest. Did other mothers constantly disparage their daughters with such venomous casualness? I had no idea, but after enduring eighteen years of this slow erosion, I knew one thing with absolute clarity: I no longer needed to spend a single second more of my life tolerating it. Unlocking my phone, I finalized the reservation for an international flight. Almost immediately, a sharp series of knocks rattled my bedroom door.