My mom and I were sitting at the table by the window.

Outside the window, there were classmates wearing school uniforms, chatting and laughing.

The noisy restaurant became quiet as soon as my mom raised her voice.

The people around us were whispering, some of them were my classmates and a few were unfamiliar teachers.

My mom started to scold me, using all kinds of dirty and offensive words.

Her face turned red, and she grabbed the chopsticks and smashed them on my face.

I tried to reason with her, pleading, "Let's talk about this at home. There are still many of my classmates and teachers here."

My mom grabbed my collar and pulled me up from the chair, not giving up: "Do you still have any face? Are you worried about your face now? When you got such disgusting grades, why didn't you worry about your face?"

The eyes of the people around me were like countless sharp blades, piercing through me.

Maybe those looks weren't malicious, maybe they weren't even talking about me, but it made me feel unbearable embarrassment.

My face felt like it was burning up, but I had nowhere to hide.

My mom dragged me out of the restaurant, and people on the street were looking at me.

I looked around in confusion, at the sympathetic eyes and the ones that avoided me.

My mom kept kicking me while dragging me towards where she parked her electric bike.

She didn't stop for a moment, continuously shouting my name, and repeating the contrasting words over and over.

"Chang Jianing is studying science, look at her and then look at you, why are you studying literature? It's useless!"

"Why is Chang Jianing so good at studying, and you two are still good friends, you were worth less than her when you were sold."

... From leaving the restaurant, to getting on the electric bike, and all the way home, she never stopped.

I wanted to cry, but I couldn't shed a tear.

It felt like something long suppressed in my chest was breaking free.

When my mom was unlocking the door with her back towards me, I looked at her and said: "If you think I can't compare to Chang Jianing, then why don't you make her your daughter?"

My mom turned around, staring at me in shock.

I met her gradually angry eyes without blinking.

I questioned her, "If you think this and that are not good enough, why not change to a different daughter? You said I should go be someone else's child, then why don't you go be someone else's mother?

"Is it because you can only produce something like me?"

When my mom slapped me, I didn't dodge.

Her face turned white and then red, just like when I compared her to other parents when I was younger.

It wasn't until now that I understood the source of her anger.

Because of incompetence.

Because she was incompetent herself, and she was angry at her own incompetence.

If her own daughter looked down on her, then who in this world would truly respect her?

She was unwilling to admit her incompetence.

She looked down on those with low wages because of her deep-seated inferiority complex.

The ultimate inferiority complex often manifests as extreme arrogance.

I began to realize in a daze that my mom's personality was so deformed and twisted.

In my memory, there is almost no trace of my father. I guess, did my dad stop wanting my mom a long time ago? My mom refused to admit the fact that she was abandoned, using phrases like "he died out there," "who would want him to come back," "it's better if he never comes back" as a substitute.

Her sense of inferiority seemed to have been passed down to me through blood.

Over the years, under her influence, have I gradually become the second version of my mother in this world?