Chapter 4 — Just Because I'm the Older Sister

You know, Chau Chau's health is delicate. What would happen if something went wrong while she was all alone at school?

Without further hesitation, my brother opened the laptop he had brought along and changed my college choices. The three of them strolled through the mall for the entire afternoon, buying countless items for Giang Thanh Chau. As they were finally preparing to leave, my brother seemed to suddenly remember something and spoke up.

Wait a moment.

With that, he hurried back into the shopping center and casually picked out a dress from the pile of garments Giang Thanh Chau had tried on and discarded.

Hello, could you please wrap this dress up for me?

The saleswoman smiled, flattering him as she spoke.

Is this for the young lady who just wanted it? You are truly spoiling your sister, buying her so many clothes.

My brother expression froze for a fraction of a second before he shook his head.

No, this is for another sister back home.

The saleswoman glanced over at Giang Thanh Chau's towering stacks of shopping bags in the distance, then lowered her gaze to the dress that the girl had tried on and sneezed at. In a mere instant, her expression turned peculiar. She offered a stiff, awkward smile and said nothing more, silently wrapping the garment. The moment they walked away, she finally dared to whisper her complaints to a colleague.

That is such blatant favoritism. If I were given a dress that someone else discarded, it would probably make me sick to my stomach. Who on earth are they trying to disgust?

Naturally, the people who had already departed heard none of this. They were still wrapped in their own little world, eagerly imagining the look of utter frustration and regret that would greet them upon their return home. As they stepped through the front door, my mother could barely contain herself.

I suppose there is someone throwing a childish temper tantrum, refusing to go take graduation photos, refusing to come eat, and missing out on her absolute favorite crab roe steamed buns.

The house was utterly silent, with no one answering her. My brother strode directly to my bedroom door and knocked.

Wei Wei, I bought a dress for you. Come out and try it on.

Still, there was no response. Giang Thanh Chau dropped her shopping bags onto the floor and spoke with a tone of indifferent dismissal.

Could she really have run away from home just over such a trivial little matter?

The moment those words left her mouth, the atmosphere inside the house curdled into something strange and heavy. My brother face darkened, and he shoved the door open. The shattered photo frame lying on the floor remained untouched, swept aside by no one. My tiny, dim bedroom was entirely vacant, stripped bare of every single belonging I owned. At that exact moment, a sharp, piercing shriek from Giang Thanh Chau echoed through the quiet rooms.

Mom, Dad, Brother, everyone, quick, look at this on the internet!

After landing safely in the United States, the very first thing I did was contact a domestic journalist to ask if we could switch our scheduled interview to an online format. Upon hearing that I had been directly admitted and recruited by an American university, the reporter was utterly thrilled and readily agreed without a second thought.

Miss Giang, would you be open to doing a live broadcast? A live broadcast will yield a much higher viewership.

Before I could even voice my answer, the other end swiftly sweetened the deal.

If you agree to a live stream, we can offer you thirty thousand yuan as an appearance fee.

I was in dire need of funds at the moment, and hosting a live broadcast posed no disadvantage or harm to me whatsoever, so I naturally accepted. The moment the virtual streaming room opened up, over one hundred thousand people flooded in instantaneously, causing the video feed to freeze momentarily under the overwhelming traffic. Once the signal finally stabilized, the journalist's very first question completely deviated from the agreed-upon script. She asked, her tone laced with confusion.

Miss Giang, why on earth did your parents refuse all previous interview requests?

I fell silent for a brief moment before offering my reply.

Not every set of parents takes pride in the honors and achievements of their own child.

It seemed the reporter managed to glean some underlying meaning from my words, as she refrained from pressing further and smoothly transitioned back to the prepared interview questions. The live broadcast proceeded with remarkable fluidity, and the number of viewers in the room continued to swell exponentially. True to our prior agreement, I promoted the collection of scholarly study notes during the broadcast. As the stream drew near its conclusion, the reporter suddenly interjected.

We have a special interactive segment now. The system will randomly select three lucky audience members, and each will have the opportunity to ask our top-scoring scholar a reasonable question.

The comment section immediately began scrolling by at lightning speed, resembling shooting stars, while virtual gifts showered the screen as if money were of no consequence. Everyone was frantically praying to be chosen. I felt no surprise, knowing full well that this segment had been pre-written into the script. The platform moderators would also ensure that no one crossed the line with malicious inquiries. The first two participants merely asked about study methodologies, and I answered them with practiced ease. That was until we connected with the third caller, a young woman whose voice was slightly choked with tears.

Older sister, earlier you mentioned that not every set of parents takes pride in their child's honors.

Then tell me, does that mean they simply never loved their child to begin with?

Yet when faced with their younger daughter, it was abundantly clear that they never once overlooked or ignored her.

For once in my life, I found myself entirely at a loss for words. The comment section, which had previously been buzzing with vibrant, chaotic energy, abruptly ground to a halt. Perhaps the blatant favoritism of parents is an inescapable, eternal scar woven into the fabric of East Asian culture. Too many children have cried until their voices grew hoarse, and too many young souls have shattered silently in the dead of night. Soon enough, the screen was densely blanketed with an endless cascade of comforting messages. It is alright, little sister, please do not cry. When I was a child, my parents beat me nearly to death just because I accidentally let our younger brother drink a single sip less of water. I have escaped now, and every single day I live my life to the fullest.