On the day I was diagnosed with stomach cancer, there was a heavy snowfall.

The doctor looked at me with such pity, introducing the Red Cross and crowdfunding to me.

I stood up and said it was unnecessary.

I took a 16-hour green train back to my hometown.

Dad wasn't home, he didn't answer the phone either.

I just sat on a bench in the neighborhood, lost in thought.

After a while, I saw in the family group chat, Dad posted a series of photos, in a warm hotel, with a large table of food, my brother wearing a birthday hat, Dad cutting a cake for him, both of them looking happy.

Aunt @ Dad: [Why don't we see Juan Juan (me)?]

Dad: [Don't mention it, that useless person is so indifferent, tasteless.]

At eight o'clock in the evening, Dad and my brother came back, Dad saw me covered in snow on the bench, and snorted through his nose.

My brother walked over, gloomily calling out, "Sis."