I'm Zhou Chang, a senior student.

Looking at the scenery outside the train, thinking about that somewhat unfamiliar hometown.

I grew up in a particularly remote village. Uncle Liu is the village chief of our village.

My dad... to be honest, our relationship isn't good.

I also have a younger sister who passed away when she was one year old due to a heart condition.

Before my sister died, our family was quite happy.

My mom went out to do odd jobs, my dad worked the fields, and I stayed at home to take care of my sister. At that time, although my father was introverted and taciturn, he often smiled, and my mom smiled frequently too.

Although our family was poor, we were happy.

Everything started when my sister was diagnosed with congenital heart disease.

It's a serious heart condition, and once it's discovered, there's basically no hope of survival. Current medical methods have no way to treat this disease.

We could only wait for death slowly, and how long one can live depends entirely on fate, of course, and how much money your family has.

When my sister fell ill, my parents went from house to house to borrow money.

Relatives, neighbors, everyone borrowed.

I don't know who spread the news that my sister's illness couldn't be cured, and very few people lent us money.

We managed to scrape together a few bucks.

Just enough for my sister's daily treatment.

It was only before my sister's death that she started calling for "mom." The first and last time my mom heard "mom."

After that, my dad became even more silent, only knowing to work in the fields every day, to earn more money.

My mom's mental state also deteriorated, and she stopped going out to do odd jobs.

She didn't comb her hair or wash her face, just sat at home staring at the newly made cotton jacket for my sister that hadn't been worn yet.

When I was fifteen, my mom passed away, succumbing to a lingering illness.

I didn't even know what illness my mom had.

I asked my dad to take my mom to the hospital, but he refused.

He said my mom just had a cold and taking some medicine would make her better.

My mom didn't say where she was hurting, and visibly grew thin. She hardly ate, only had a bowl of millet porridge a day.

Whenever I urged her to eat more, she said she couldn't eat, curled up in bed, trembling in pain.

I argued with my father like a madman, asking him to take my mom to the hospital for treatment.

"We don't have money."

"Then go borrow, go borrow. If we don't go to the hospital soon, mom will die."

"They won't lend us any."

No matter how much I cried and begged, my dad didn't go out to borrow money.

If he wouldn't go, I would go myself. I went to relatives' houses, to neighbors' houses, to both good and bad relationships.

I knelt on the ground and knocked on doors, begging them to lend me a little money.

When I grew up, I would repay them twice as much.

I remember clearly that night when I went from house to house, knocking on doors to borrow money. I managed to borrow 320 yuan.

When my mom passed away, my dad didn't shed a tear.

He went through the motions, the funeral, the burial, the tombstone.

We all knew we were poor, so not many people came to pay their respects to my mom, and my dad didn't arrange for them to have a meal.

The next day, my dad went to work as usual.

That's when I realized that my dad never loved my mom.

"Ding Ling Ling." My phone rang, it was the instructor calling me.

"The online comments, did you post them?"

"Yes."

"You...," the instructor adjusted his tone, "quickly take care of your family matters and come back to the school to await disciplinary action."

Before hanging up, I heard the instructor say to someone, I don't know who, "This little bastard..."