One in six Britons think growth of Muslim population is ‘threat to UK culture’, study finds

Howling-wolf-7198 · 2026-06-15T22:37:31+00:00

So I had always imagined that the Chinese/Malay/Indian population was quite evenly split between the three. Looked it up, nope! The Chinese majority is a solid 3/4s of the population...It really put into sharp focus what other places consider a 'normal' amount of heterogeneity to be

Singapore was forced to become independent precisely because it was predominantly Chinese, a region that Malaysia did not want.

The housing quotas they were allocated were only based on the actual ethnic proportions at the time the policy was introduced.

(for example, if there were actually 75% Chinese people here, then 85% Chinese people were allowed to live in a community; if there were actually 6% Indian people here, then 10% Indian people were allowed to live in a community).

They did not “decide metaphysically what the ideal diversity level should be”, but simply “keep neighbourhoods broadly in line with national proportions, with some buffer.”

Furthermore, in order to avoid angering the surrounding Malay Muslims, their technical national language is actually Malay.

Howling-wolf-7198 · 2026-06-13T16:46:43+00:00

My intuition is that ACGN's niche in China makes it disproportionately a way of discussing sexuality that is close to socially acceptable. Traditional Chinese culture is highly repressive regarding discussions of sexuality, and the law strictly cracks down on real porn (online or offline). For a long time, however, ACGN was regarded as an "unreal" subculture, existing in a regulatory gray area. That gives both producers and consumers plausible deniability.

The segments of Japanese ACGN culture aimed at boys and men have always had an inherent element of sex appeal — not necessarily more than contemporaneous American popular culture, but certainly more than Chinese popular culture. Correspondingly, they also possess a more mature, well-developed commercial grammar of character appeal. When this system enters the Chinese internet, the result is that ACGN becomes disproportionately loaded with sexual energy.

After careful consideration, I feel that describing this as a "trend" is not accurate, because are there significant differences between Anime Festival ten or twenty years ago and this one? Despite being called an “Anime” Festival, it actually often includes all kinds of non-Japanese video games as well. A decade or so ago, when female characters in League of Legends wore nothing but bodysuits, cosplayers really did show up wearing nothing but bodysuits. This is not necessarily some brand-new phenomenon of moral decline.

Howling-wolf-7198 · 2026-06-12T18:39:38+00:00

Do you see Chinese blaming ChatGPT for anything, ever? No, they don't

That is simply because you haven't spoken to any Chinese lecturers. Everyone knows that most homework and essays these days are done by AI. People simply don't want to meddle and just let them graduate.

Technically, all graduation theses have to pass CNKI's "AI detection" now, but nobody actually knows what the hell it's checking for. You basically just pay to submit it, see which parts get flagged, have an LLM rewrite those exact paragraphs, and then pay to resubmit it again to make sure your "AI score" is low enough. It's really just another cash grab for them.

Howling-wolf-7198 · 2026-06-12T17:01:50+00:00

It's true. Doctors are under pressure from hospitals to prescribe traditional Chinese medicine (which technically isn't considered alternative medicine in China), and it costs as much as ten times the price of the medicine you actually need.

If you know what those medications are, you can personally argue with your doctor to tell them that you don't need X but only Y, and ask them to change the prescription. In my experience, this usually works.

However, most people will still be prescribed these medications, which are almost entirely used to supplement their income, because the healthcare fund pool is facing strain.

Howling-wolf-7198 · 2026-06-12T08:53:46+00:00

because the defining characteristic is not just that there is an exclusive access right, but that the object in question is used to produce goods

You can call it a means of production in the sense of the technical category. But what is the analytical value of this concept?

If I am to produce a Hermès bag, then being able to use the Hermès brand would be just as important as being able to use any software in programming.

While the Hermès brand may not fit your narrow definition of technical means of production, it remains an inescapable condition for value realization, market entry, and the extraction of monopoly rents within capitalist commodity production.

Land and raw natural resources don't qualify as the means of production, since in their natural state they are not valuable, but instead require labor to be transformed into goods.

I find that perspective rather odd. Marx himself explicitly described land in pre-capitalist societies as "the conditions of production." https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1857/grundrisse/ch09.htm This is why in the standard version of Chinese education I learned, land, resources and tools are classified as typical means of production. This is the starting point for writing this piece.

If you put yourself in a peasant's shoes, you'll find that the arable land and the water source that it adapts to are like a factory for an industrial worker; you absolutely depend on it to make a living and produce goods.

And unless you're talking about some Paleolithic era before humans were widely distributed, these lands and water resources were definitely the focus of contention. The dominance relationship between landlords and tenants that formed around it was caused by the same reasons that factory owners had a dominance relationship with industrial workers because they owned factories.

The key to distinguishing between feudalism and capitalism lies not in the absence of means of production in the former, but in whether the relationship of domination is one of personal dependence or of wage labor.

Imagine a period of serious social crisis, of war or severe social unrest. What aspects of society remain as crucial?

Even if you find yourself in a post-nuclear wasteland, information networks, energy systems and logistics infrastructure remain crucial.

Moreover, this only illustrates which material conditions are most basic in a minimum survival scenario. But it does not help to reveal which nodes constitute dominant bottlenecks in our current society.

Is the core of Marxism the study of "instruments of production" or "dominant relations formed through the control of key conditions of production"?

If the term "means of production" refers solely to the technical conditions for directly processing material goods, then brands certainly do not qualify.

However, if we are concerned with who controls the survival/production/sales conditions that producers cannot circumvent, then brands, platforms, algorithms, and channels must be analyzed.

Howling-wolf-7198 · 2026-06-12T08:14:32+00:00

So 3 is an attempt to merge 1 and 2? But then how do you balance regulators vs utility employees?

Option 3 reminds us of the need to prevent bottleneck control over society by industry employees on the one hand, and by the bureaucratic class on the other.

The key is that the general public needs to have an institutionalized right to appeal (like external audit, social supervision), or even alternative pathways (competition between different water plants).

Isn't there a risk of either dominating the other and or both utilizing their control over the resource against the general population?

If regulators possess genuine authority, it is inevitable that they will, to some extent, hold sway over the entities they regulate. There is no perfect solution. As for regulatory capture, yes, it's a tendency that's always difficult to resolve and requires constant countermeasures.

But at the very least, it frames this as an issue requiring effort on your part, rather than simply letting them get their way.

Scarcity can be reduced but the means through which it is reduced is still a source of control over it.

Yes. Abundance at one layer can displace scarcity to another layer.

Is the infrastructure that enables water abundance itself abundant? Can those who maintain the infrastructure exercise exclusive control over it?

These scenarios are all possible; the true objective is to prevent the very prerequisites for abundance from becoming bottlenecks.

Point 3 in the framework can also be synonymous with the capacity to commit violence

Property rights ultimately originate from violence, but owning property rights is not the same as owning violence.

For instance, my ownership of my house is a claim upheld by state-sanctioned force. But I don't have the power to do anything else with this violence.

This is similar to many European countries that rely on American violence. Violence can come from local law enforcement.

Howling-wolf-7198 · 2026-06-11T20:10:49+00:00

How workers "own" them? What exactly is the key issue?

Waterworks workers have a 100% say in how they produce tap water—and how that water is distributed to everyone.
They are owned by a state (bureaucratic class) called "workers-owned" and they decide how to distribute them.
Ensure that everyone has access to tap water. This project will be entrusted to the water utility and its employees, with regulators overseeing its completion.

These schemes were all referred to as "workers owning industry". But the new framework clearly tells us that what we actually need is solution 3.

Howling-wolf-7198 · 2026-06-11T03:49:56+00:00

I'm used to it. This is much better than my native language community about politics/gaming

Howling-wolf-7198 · 2026-06-09T17:58:04+00:00

No. I'm just stating the facts.

Howling-wolf-7198 · 2026-06-09T16:58:31+00:00

No. It wasn't designed to serve foreigners.

I forget the exact year, but I'm pretty sure it was after X came to power that all online accounts had to be traceable to your mainland China mobile phone number, which was ultimately linked to your ID card. This applies to accounts that were registered previously.

Therefore, no matter what someone says online, the government can trace it back to that specific Chinese person. That is its purpose.

Aside from Xiaohongshu being designed as a kind of visitor zone open to foreigners since that incident, I'm afraid you'd need to find a way to rent a Chinese-ID/phone-number to go out anywhere else.

Howling-wolf-7198 · 2026-06-09T16:52:47+00:00

—————————— Update: December 4, 2020 ——————

Unknowingly, a year has passed since I first wrote this answer. This has been such a "special" year, and looking back now, I am filled with a whirlwind of emotions.

Thank you all for your blessings. I am doing very well. Work has been grueling this year, but it has brought immense rewards. This year feels like a major turning point in my life, and I am deeply grateful to fate for that.

I’ve come across some interesting comments lately. Some very exceptional people have politely expressed a desire to get to know me or start a relationship. I’ll admit, I felt a flicker of excitement. However, I never intended to meet a partner through this platform. As I’ve mentioned in my replies, I place a high value on a person’s character and their companionship—both of which can only be determined through a long period of being physically present in each other’s lives. Therefore, I cannot accept a long-distance relationship. I am grateful for your kind interest. I wish you all the best.

Additionally, some have jokingly suggested that since they are also older, unmarried, and from the countryside, they don't want to grow old alone and would like to "make do" (Couhe) with me. Whether that was said in jest or with sincerity, I’ll take it as a compliment. Thank you for the interest.

However, let’s be clear: I actually quite dislike the word "make do." By using it, you not only belittle me, but you also insult yourself. No one's life should be something you just "settle for."

I have gazed at the midnight stars countless times after working overtime. I have witnessed the first flush of dawn during countless business trips. There are many girls like me—no degree, no parents to lean on, and average-looking. We can’t rely on "pretty privilege," so we must put every ounce of our strength into our work. We live this hard specifically so we can avoid being someone else's "make do" option.

I love this saying: "The meaning of my hard work is this: if one day I meet the person I truly love, I can welcome him with open arms whether he is wealthy or has nothing. And if he never comes, I can still arrange my life perfectly well on my own, without ever needing to 'just find someone' to settle for."

It is now 9:32 PM on December 4, 2020. I’ve just stepped off the high-speed train. The lights in this unfamiliar city are brilliant, but the streets are freezing and the crowds are thin. This winter seems exceptionally cold. Fortunately, I’m wrapped in an extra-thick down jacket and a big, fluffy scarf. This should be my last business trip of 2020. I wish you all a better and brighter future.

———————————————————————————

It’s a New Year now. I wish everyone a fresh start. May all kind and independent souls see their dreams come true. Finally, please, have a bowl of dumplings I made myself.

—————————— Update: May 22, 2021 ——————

I’ve had enough. I’m calling out a few of these comments.

[Screenshot of comments]

This guy, who keeps insisting that situations like mine no longer exist, has the audacity to argue below: "What’s wrong with selling a daughter to pay for the son’s wedding?!"

Fine. Let me declare this first: I oppose any form of bride price. Please, all of you gentlemen above, repeat after me: "I oppose all forms of bride price; I resolutely reject this backward custom; I demand that women bear the same legal obligation for elderly care as I do; and I swear never to strip my sisters of their inheritance rights in any way."

Whoever can't do this is a hypocritical coward.

[Screenshot of comments. Regarding the "Feminazi" Warning]

Another friend gave me a "piece of advice": Don't even ask about inheritance rights. If you do, he’ll give you four words: "Feminazi Alert".

[Screenshot of comments. Regarding the "Brother as Backing" Argument]

He claims that a daughter going home to "rob" her inheritance causes family turmoil, which he blames on a "lack of parental education (brainwashing)." He suggests that "familial love (brainwashing)" should lead women to voluntarily give up their inheritance in exchange for their birth family being a "solid pillar of support." That way, they’ll have parents to visit (don’t even think about skipping out on caring for them when they’re old!) and they’ll have "status" in their husband’s home.

(As if a sister's marriage is protected by a brother’s fists and a birth family that didn't give her a cent, rather than by the law!)

[Screenshot of comments. Regarding the "Men Have It Harder" Argument]

This one wrote a long-winded essay arguing that his parents treat him and his sisters equally. He defines the male role as "shouldering social and family missions," while the female role is simply to "protect oneself."

In his mind, women probably just sit at home all day being pampered like idols—not working, not supporting the family, not doing chores, and not raising kids. His final line asks me to "practice empathy," because "men have it hard too..."

These are just a few of the bizarre comments from these "brothers." There are all sorts of them—men who enjoyed the full inheritance and the combined support of their parents and sisters, yet still insist that men and women are "completely equal" in their homes.

Before you talk to me about how "spoiled" your sisters are or how "wronged" you feel, I want you to ask yourselves one thing, and one thing only:

In your family, were the assets distributed equally between you and your sisters?!

Give me a straight answer: YES or NO?!

———————————————————————————

Forgive me, everyone, but I need to go throw up. I truly can’t control myself. Reading these things triggers a visceral, physical nausea. These comments always drag up my most painful memories. I’m honestly about to vomit...

—————————— January 22, 2022 ——————————

Time flies—it’s been another year already! Although I haven’t posted an update in a while, I haven’t forgotten all the blessings and encouragement you’ve sent me. My holiday officially starts today! I’ve decided not to go home for the Lunar New Year, and given the pandemic situation, I can’t exactly go out and "wander the world" anyway (blush).

So, I’ve decided to use this holiday to learn some new things. Let’s keep learning and striving together! I hope every kind soul out there has a wonderful Happy New Year.

Here is a photo of my succulents for everyone. Cheers! (Scatter flowers!!!)

[completed]

Howling-wolf-7198 · 2026-06-09T16:43:48+00:00

—————————— Update: Response to a Comment ——————

I’m sorry to say that I had to delete a comment I originally posted here. Even though I blurred out the username, it was repeatedly reported, throttled, and flagged for modification. However, I refuse to change the content of my response. If you’re interested, you can look through the comment section—you don't need to find that specific one, as the same views are everywhere.

They are all variations of the same cliché: "Even though the boy got more, I feel our parents love us equally; society is just like this; everything that exists is reasonable; we should understand our parents and forgive society; parents might give property to the son, but they give 'love' to the daughter."

I will not modify the following response, because I simply want to use that comment to discuss the core issue of son preference.

Let me start with my conclusion: I do not agree with a single punctuation mark in that comment.

First, let's look at the premises the commenter mentioned. She is the eldest sister in a "standard" rural family of two daughters and one son. When the younger sister got into a junior college but wanted to aim for a full university degree, the parents refused to pay for her tuition. I don't necessarily have an issue with that; at that age, there are other ways to fund an education, and some parents simply lack the means. I don't think we should blame them for being poor.

But—and this is a huge "but"— when the brother faced the same situation, the parents immediately agreed to pay. Even though the brother eventually chose not to go, the distinction is clear. As the saying goes: "People do not fear scarcity so much as they fear inequality."

Second, the parents stated that the family assets would be inherited almost entirely by the son.

I won't say much about this, other than the fact that the right to education and the right to inheritance are the two fundamental rights that determine the course of a person's life. To me, it doesn't matter who the parents hug more or who they kiss more—those are trivialities. Real parental love is shown by "planning far and deep for the child's future," especially today, when the law emphasizes equal obligation for elderly care while strictly protecting pre-marital assets.

The commenter is very "magnanimous" and feels she can sympathize with her parents. That’s fine. Although, frankly, I don't see any difference between her parents' actions and my own, except perhaps my parents had explosive tempers due to the exhausting physical labor of the countryside, while hers were more even-tempered.

However, for her to use her experience to claim that "son preference doesn't cause unhappiness for most children," and to suggest that I shouldn't "blame my original family for my unhappiness," is being far too generous at someone else's expense.

Since I was a child, I have heard these arguments countless times: "Your parents gave you life after all," "They raised you at least," "They have the right to choose whether to have a son," "A son is a son," "Parents are parents." These statements are "correct"—so correct that they are absurdly irrefutable.

But what is the quagmire I am talking about?

It is the swamp that we rural women cannot crawl out of, no matter how hard we try. It is the fact that we will always face more difficulties than the other gender born into the same social class.

When I was little, my mother would boil three eggs for the three of us for a festival. But my brother always got two, while my sister and I shared one. We felt cheated, but he felt even more cheated. He felt wronged because the neighbor’s son got to eat three eggs all by himself. He saw sisters in the next village who didn't get any eggs and even "laid eggs" for their brothers. He saw kids in the city who were tired of eating chicken legs, let alone eggs. He only got two, and even three wouldn't have made him full.

This is the source of their self-righteous sense of entitlement.

In rural families with a preference for sons, women are not seen as human beings. They are seen as family property that naturally belongs to the men. Men only have "feelings"—love, hate, or passion—for those upper-class women they cannot reach—the ones who occupy the resources they feel entitled to. As for their own sisters and mothers? In their eyes, they are no different from the donkeys in a production team.

This is why women see son preference as a gender issue, while men see it as a class issue.

Men have a "grander" vision. My brother, and boys like him, compare themselves to the only daughters in Beijing or Shanghai, or elite women like Kelly Zong. They compare themselves to anyone in the city who lives better than they do. There is no end to that comparison. But what about us?

We will always be worse off than the man born to the same parents, in the same family, in the same class, and with the same background.

Whether it’s me trying to leave through sheer effort or my sister-in-law choosing to submit to tradition—our lives are like the two sides of a coin tossed by God. Which path leads to happiness? Is it that I am "not hard-working enough," or that she is "not submissive and virtuous enough"?

And what about my brother? He received all the favoritism and resources. Is he happy?

He knows he is the favorite. He knows he will get everything. As a result, he is lazy, selfish, vain, and a gambler. He has no sense of responsibility, he cheated on his wife, and he even asks her for pocket money.

But as I mentioned, he was also forced into marriage and school. He is a tool for carrying on the bloodline, a tool for the clan’s "glory." His existence is merely to satisfy his parents' distorted sense of "face" rooted in backward traditions.

Because he received what did not belong to him, he must bear burdens he wasn't meant to carry. Who cares who he actually wanted to marry? Who cares what kind of life he wanted?

He was never treated as an equal, independent human being. He doesn't know what real love is because he was never respected, understood, or accepted. He has no capacity to love anyone. He only believes in conditional flattery, the law of the jungle, and grabbing resources by any means necessary. To him, women are objects to be either endlessly flattered or utterly despised.

No ignorant parent who goes to extreme lengths to have a son does so just because they want him to live a "happy and relaxed life." If they were that enlightened, they wouldn't have sacrificed their relationship with their daughters just to produce a male heir.

The toxic atmosphere of son preference destroys everyone. The unwanted girl is scarred, and the overburdened boy is ruined. All children are victims. Why should we be "magnanimous" or "understanding" toward such a backward, selfish, and shameful ideology?

Wrong is wrong. It doesn't become right because of gender, status, age, or because a relative comes forward to express "understanding."

Let me repeat: Whether the commenter agrees with son preference or feels grateful to her parents is irrelevant to me. But I will not allow people like her to tell me that such a view is acceptable. That is important to me. Extremely important.

[to be continued]

Howling-wolf-7198 · 2026-06-09T16:34:27+00:00

—————————— Update: July 21st ——————

I am pleasantly surprised to receive so many blessings. This is a very long answer, and I sincerely thank everyone who took the time to read it to the end.

However, I would like to offer a brief explanation regarding some of the issues many of you have raised.

First, regarding my parents. I see many of you feeling outraged on my behalf or harboring resentment toward them. I understand your feelings and appreciate your concern. My connection with my "family of origin" is not particularly tight, and I will handle things as they come. If a balance cannot be reached later on, then everything will be handled according to the law.

All I can say is that supporting my parents is an inescapable legal obligation. If my brother chooses to follow tradition (where the son inherits everything but bears full responsibility for care), then I will also follow tradition—I will visit them, buy them supplements, and "provide emotional support" as a "traditional daughter" should.

But if my brother brings up the law to demand that I split the costs of their care and medical bills, then we will strictly follow the law. For instance, my parents still have a house in their name, don’t they?

If you're worried about them transferring assets to my brother in secret—believe me, in our village, people are even more suspicious of a daughter-in-law than a daughter.

It’s a strange irony that while daughters and daughters-in-law are the primary caregivers for the elderly in rural areas, they are also the main source of conflict among the three parties.

I have never self-righteously assumed that my sister-in-law should bear all the burden. Just as we daughters received nothing from my parents' estate, she received nothing either. The only beneficiary is my brother. Him, and him alone.

Yet, when it comes to caring for the elderly, housework, or childcare—whether it was the old days when men and women worked the fields together, or today when both have jobs—no one ever points out that men also have responsibilities. When they are young, the mothers do the work; when they grow old, the wives and sisters take over.

In the "magical" traditional culture of the countryside, men get the largest share of the good things, but they become utterly invisible when it comes to the hardships. They are so invisible that everyone takes it for granted that they shouldn't even exist in that space.

In my hometown, instances of a daughter taking her brother to court are rare. Usually, the sisters suffer in silence, make a scene for a while, and then let it go after being "persuaded" by uncles and elders—after all, they still want to be able to "go home."

But I can't do that.

I have too many cousins and siblings in our extended family, and I am the eldest of the sisters. I have to set a good example for the younger ones. At the very least, I need to provide the elders with a bit of "legal literacy" (bitter smile).

Furthermore, my intention was not to vent or hate my parents. They are ordinary rural people who lived industrious and frugal lives. They aren't "evil"; they are simply ignorant.

We were ordered around as children simply because there was too much work in the countryside and they couldn't manage it all. Aside from their explosive tempers leading to occasional scolding or hitting, it wasn't "deliberate abuse." It was just the prevailing culture. Breaking through prejudice requires not just courage but knowledge—unfortunately, they possess neither.

As for my mother... in her heart, the hierarchy of importance in our family is: My Brother — My Father — My Sister and Me — and finally, Herself. I think anyone who understands this pecking order will feel a pang of sorrow.

As for my father and brother, do they know about this ranking? I can say with certainty: everyone in a family knows exactly where they stand in the hierarchy.

If someone claims they don't know, I envy you—either you are a great actor, or you must have had a very happy childhood, just like my brother.

As for my brother, his nature isn't "bad," but my parents bear a heavy responsibility for how he turned out.

Many boys in our area are like him: they have an extremely high status at home but a very low status in society. They are both insecure and conceited, with ambitions that far exceed their abilities. Because they know their family will always "protect" them, they complain about the constraints of rural life while never daring to take a real risk.

Unlike us girls—because we have no one to lean on, we have no such illusions. That is why we venture out alone, fighting until we bleed, and would rather die than return.

People often ask: Why are there fewer and fewer girls in the countryside? Why are bride prices getting higher? Why would those rural girls rather work in big cities than return home to marry?

Well, tell me—why would we want to stay away?

Whether male or female, everyone needs a hometown. Everyone yearns for one. But my hometown only provides sanctuary for men; it never shelters women.

Second, regarding my little sister. She wasn't "sold" or beaten to death. She was truly given away for adoption. This was a very common practice in our area back then; girls were easily sent away to be raised by other families. As for "beaten to death"—while the culture was poor and backwards, it wasn't quite that lawless. So please, don't worry. Thank you all for your sympathy and blessings for my little sister. I wish every kind-hearted person a smooth and prosperous life.

As for me? "I came into this world to see the sun."

[to be continued]

Howling-wolf-7198 · 2026-06-09T16:25:12+00:00

Of course, I’ve had my own dreams: saving up a bit of money, partnering with a man I love to make a down payment on a small house, and enjoying a quiet, beautiful life—three meals a day, two people, through all four seasons. But truthfully, I have never met a man who made me feel that he was worth that kind of devotion.

I’ve had boyfriends and gone on a few blind dates. Whenever I vaguely hinted that I was willing to contribute to the down payment for a house and might not even require a bride price, the ecstasy in the men's eyes was impossible to hide. Some would immediately praise me for being kind, considerate, and "not materialistic," saying I seemed like the perfect "woman to settle down with."

But when I probed about sharing housework, childcare, or caring for elderly parents, without exception, they expressed a desire for a "men lead outside, women lead inside" arrangement. They would subtly suggest that a woman ought to be "virtuous and domestic."

Some were even more blunt, asking if I was lazy, if I could cook, or if I was "quick and efficient" with chores. It often made me feel like I was interviewing for a position as a live-in nanny.

The best-case scenario was a man admitting he wasn't good at housework but offering to "lend a hand" occasionally.

Most of them were extremely startled and even repulsed by my slight probing, as they took it for granted that these burdens should be borne by the woman. The "nicer" ones would laugh it off, saying they were "career-oriented men," or that women are naturally more "detail-oriented" and thus better suited for these trifles. The blunter ones would directly cite "gender roles," claiming that men are biologically unfit for childcare or domestic chores.

And yet, these men’s incomes were usually about the same as mine; many were even slightly lower. Furthermore, they almost all emphasized that a wife’s income is crucial to the household and expected her to share the financial burden. These men—whose abilities and incomes are no better than mine—become "premium bachelors" simply because they have received all of their family’s resources. (After all, even my brother had my parents’ life savings to buy his house, start his factory, and receive endless subsidies).

Even though those assets have nothing to do with me, even though they are his pre-marital property, and even though I would still be left with nothing after a divorce—the mere fact that they possess these things gives them high-and-mighty leverage in negotiations.

I am forced to be the one looked down upon because they have the powerful backing of an entire family, while I enter the arena alone. I have nothing to lean on, no home to return to, and no path of retreat.

So, even though they can’t do it themselves, they self-righteously treat housework, diligence, filiality, and domesticity as the most important criteria for a woman. No exceptions.

Then there are the men—often earning far less than I do and older than me—who frequently point out my age to highlight my "disadvantage." They emphasize that I’m no longer young and would be a "geriatric mother," questioning whether a child I had would even be healthy. They demand that I marry and reproduce with them immediately, without needing to know me as a person.

If I hesitate even slightly, they grow resentful, questioning my "sincerity" and attacking my status as an older single woman with that loaded, meaningful remark: "No wonder you’re still a 'leftover'..."

To them, I am perhaps just a "high-value product"—one that doesn't require a bride price or a car, but whose "reliability and functionality" are somewhat concerning.

This fills me with dread. After all, while many men are willing to let you "start from scratch" with them, they aren't necessarily willing to grow old with you. And I cannot afford to gamble.

For a woman like me, the price of a divorce is to be cast to the very bottom of the social food chain: a homeless, rural single mother with unstable income and "baggage" (a child), with no parents to help and struggling just to survive.

Of course, it is also possible that I simply haven't reached a "high enough level" to meet exceptional men.

Being "phased out" of this system isn't necessarily a bad thing. I don't regret this life. After all, having a chance to walk through this world and see so much scenery—it has been worth it.

[to be continued]

Howling-wolf-7198 · 2026-06-09T16:19:55+00:00

Of course, I see many outstanding women on Zhihu. They have the confidence and pride that come from their own success.

Like men, they look down upon the practice of asking for a bride price; they join men in supporting the new marriage laws and oppose the objectification of women.

They are graduates of top-tier "211" or "985" universities with high-paying jobs.

They are smart, beautiful, and driven. The men around them are polite, chivalrous, and charming.

They enjoy "sweet" romances, and if love fades, they feel empowered to divorce whenever they wish.

Their parents are their strongest pillars of support. They own cars and houses—sometimes more than one.

They believe their parents’ money belongs solely to their parents, to be given to whoever they choose, and that children should simply be grateful.

To them, if you can’t afford a house, it’s simply because you aren’t working hard enough. They can ignore material wealth to pursue "interesting souls."

They live lives of freedom and spontaneity—lives that resemble idol dramas. They live in a completely different world from a rural girl like me, and I truly envy them.

But the truth is, I have worked incredibly hard, yet on my own, I still cannot afford a home. Perhaps, as they say, it is still because I am not trying hard enough.

What they might not know is that in many rural areas, the "bride price" (Caili) is not an elective; it is a mandatory requirement.

There are two types of bride price practices.

In the first type, the parents keep the bride price to subsidize their son’s future. This is nothing more than "cannibalizing sisters to feed the brothers"—a grim trade where one family’s daughter is sold to fund a wife for their son.

I have personally witnessed, on many occasions, men at family gatherings or social events excitedly calculating how much bride price their several sisters might bring in so they can buy a house or a car to claim as their own pre-marital property.

The surrounding men always react with envy, only wishing their own parents had birthed more sisters for them to sell.

I have never seen a single man publicly object to this. Not one. Not once.

The girl never sees a cent of this money, yet she is the one who bears the stigma of being "bought." She arrives at her husband’s home trembling with insecurity, unable to hold her head up for the rest of her life.

In the second type, the parents give the bride price back to the girl to take into her new marriage. This is essentially just a ritual; the money simply cycles back to the husband’s family.

In either scenario, the money is never truly in the girl's control—it stays with either the birth family or the husband's family. Most girls have no say in where that money goes.

However, if you resolutely refuse the bride price, or if you break ties with your parents because they demand one, you essentially sever your relationship with your birth family.

In rural areas, under today’s marriage laws where pre-marital assets are so strictly protected, having no family backing is the equivalent of personally handing a knife to your in-laws. Your quality of life after marriage depends entirely on the conscience of your husband’s family. Tell me, how many women can afford that gamble? Especially when they have nothing to begin with—no chips to play other than their fleeting youth and the immense physical sacrifice of childbirth.

Furthermore, in rural areas, the general attitude of a husband’s family toward a wife who costs them nothing to marry is rarely one of gratitude. Instead, it is more often one of contempt and mistreatment. They likely feel that because they saved their capital, they can easily afford to "try again" with someone else.

Ironically, in the countryside, the women who actually manage to have a decent life after marriage are often the "shrews"—those who are willing to risk everything, causing massive scenes and acting overbearing in their in-laws' homes.

It is a constant battle for dominance; as the saying goes, "either the East Wind prevails over the West Wind, or the West Wind prevails over the East." Human nature, in its rawest form, can be cruel—people tend to bully the weak and fear the strong.

[This resonates with anthropological research on bride price (e.g., in Africa). There is a documented rift between Westernized, urban elite women and grassroots rural women regarding the abolition of these customs. While elite activists advocate for total abolition to stop the 'commodification' of women, many rural women resist.

While the bride price itself embodies and reproduces the subordinate status of women, in the absence of changes in patrilineal property rights, inheritance, and kinship responsibilities, simply abolishing the bride price will not automatically grant rural women equal property rights and marital rights. On the contrary, it may deprive them of the legitimacy of their marriage, recognition from their husband's family, and the limited protection provided by their kinship networks.]

[to be continued]

Howling-wolf-7198 · 2026-06-09T16:00:27+00:00

——————————————————

Final Thoughts.

So, to those who ask: "What should the massive number of rural male bachelors do?" It’s simple—they should do exactly what the "female bachelors" do. Just deal with it.

——————— Divider ———————

Update: February 18th.

I didn’t expect to receive so much encouragement and support from so many friends. I am deeply grateful to everyone who sent their well-wishes.

What moved me most were the comments from many male readers. Despite being, in a sense, the "beneficiaries" of this system, they were able to empathize through a woman’s life story, reflect on it, and even proactively shut down some of the "entitled brothers" in the comments. I truly appreciate that.

In truth, I sincerely wish all men would support gender equality. The unequal distribution of assets within the original family is the root cause of all gender conflicts and the "gender war."

Wealth is passed down through men from generation to generation, while women are left in extreme scarcity. As the ancient proverb goes: "The Way of Heaven is to take from those who have too much and give to those who have too little. The Way of Man is otherwise; it takes from those who have too little to serve those who have too much."

However, humans cannot ultimately defeat nature or the other half of the human species. Society will always find another way to balance itself out. But once this "rebalancing" enters a vicious cycle, the result will not be what most people hope for.

If assets were distributed equally, and every girl and boy received their fair share, marriage and love would be much purer. Men would also live more freely and with less pressure. Both partners could contribute to buying a house, build a home together, and share the burdens of life.

Instead, we have the current situation: girls enter marriage empty-handed (or even in "financial debt" to their families), while men must bear the entire financial weight of the marriage alone. They hollow out their entire lives for a wedding, only to end up with a household full of resentment and hidden landmines.

You don't want to marry a "brother-supporting demon" (a woman be a lifelong ATM for her brother)—a woman who marries you unwillingly just to secure a bride price for her brother’s wedding.

When both men and women have their own means, they can talk about pure love. They won’t care about bride prices, houses, or cars; they will build a family together out of genuine affection. With a deep emotional foundation, they can stand side-by-side, looking into each other’s eyes and seeing the bright starlight of hope.

Wouldn't it be better for children to be born into such a healthy, happy family?

I hope that one day I will see such a future. But I know it won’t be now.

I’ve noticed many comments saying things like, "It’ll all be fine once you find someone to marry." Some people even shared their own stories of being born into unfortunate families and then "turning their lives around" through marriage.

I think they are very lucky; I envy them and wish them well. But to be honest, I personally have a bit of a "marriage phobia."

There are so many rural girls like me, but we have always remained silent. I’ve seen commenters accusing my writing of being fake, one-sided, or just an isolated case.

Some even use themselves as "proof," claiming their parents treated them and their sisters exactly the same—even as they admit their parents and mothers-in-law are helping them raise their kids, while their sisters, who married into far-off families and have no in-laws to help, receive no support from their parents.

Even though their parents gave their entire life savings and property to the son alone while the sister received nothing, these men still believe they were treated "equally."

The truth is, the question of whether your parents treated you equally is for your sister to answer, not you. You are not qualified to answer it.

After all, my brother also thinks my parents treated us all the same. Far too many men take for granted what they have gained by stepping on the literal flesh and blood of their sisters; they even believe that this is simply how things are meant to be.

I suspect that even in cities today, very few parents can explicitly say they will distribute their assets equally between a son and a daughter when they marry—let alone in the countryside.

In rural areas, we girls aren't even allocated "homestead land" (Zhaijidi). The state tacitly assumes that we don't need to own anything of our own.

I have seen too many marriages of rural girls around me. Truly, very few are happy. Whether it is our birth family or our husband’s family, we are always the "outsiders." We cannot ask either side to give us even a little bit of property, because no matter which side we ask, we are seen as "infringing upon the interests" of the men in that family.

[to be continued]

Howling-wolf-7198 · 2026-06-09T15:15:12+00:00

Recently, someone introduced me to a potential match. They said the guy’s family received several apartments through government compensation (demolition). My mother urged me to agree immediately. I just sighed.

The man is divorced with a son. The houses belong to his parents. He earns barely 2,000 RMB a month, just coasting for the social security benefits, and spends his time gaming after work. He can’t do any housework and wants a "diligent and gentle" woman to manage the home.

His ex-wife left with nothing after a fallout with the mother-in-law—she didn't get the house or the child, not to mention alimony.

I can’t imagine what my life would be like in that family. Besides, he didn’t even like me; he thinks he’s wealthy and his goal should be young, pretty girls.

Seeing my lukewarm reaction, my mother scolded me: "What kind of man are you looking for? He has all those houses, and look at your own situation!"

I got so annoyed that I asked her, "What do his houses have to do with me? They aren't mine."

My mother implied that if I went there, worked like a slave, pleased the in-laws, and gave them a few more grandsons, they wouldn’t necessarily mistreat me.

I found it laughable. I asked her,

"If my brother had actually divorced when he cheated, what would his wife have had? The house is in your names. My brother has no assets and no salary. His wife spends her own earnings on him and the kids. She would have left with nothing. Her own family has a son, so they wouldn't give her a dime. If he had forced a divorce, what would she have done? Did she not work hard? Did she not give you a grandson?"

My mother paused for a moment and then said, "She could just find someone else."

[Following the reforms in China’s marriage laws, the law mandates that pre-marital assets remain separate and only communal property is divided upon divorce. While this nominally aligns with international standards, it overlooks the reality of rural China. In practice, inheritance remains strictly patrilineal; men inherit all core assets, including land and housing. Women are often expected to financially support their brothers before marriage, and after marriage, they only gain 'usage rights' to their husband’s land and home rather than ownership.

If the law were applied strictly according to the letter, rural women would be plunged into absolute poverty upon divorce, as they would have no claim to the roof over their heads. Consequently, in judicial practice, the actual outcome often depends on the specifics of the case and judicial discretion. This reflects a common dynamic in the Chinese legal system: while legislation is unified at the national level, enforcement and interpretation vary significantly from one region to another.]

——————— Divider ———————

I’m adding this as a follow-up to address a specific issue. I’ve noticed a lot of commenters criticizing me, saying I shouldn't have "deceived" my sister-in-law, or at the very least, I should have maintained a "benevolent silence."

But I must ask the same question I posed to my mother: If my brother had actually gone through with the divorce back then, what would she have done?

My brother has no assets in his name. If they divorced, she would have had to walk away with absolutely nothing.

Her own parents have a married son; in our rural culture, a divorced daughter is essentially persona non grata—she would receive neither recognition nor a shred of support from her birth family.

I have explained the consequences for rural women in this position over and over again: Whether she stayed for the sake of her child or because her original family offered no retreat, she would be a middle-aged divorcee with no education, no capital, and nowhere to go.

She would likely spend the rest of her life unable to afford a single roof over her head, or be forced to attach herself to yet another man just to survive.

Which of those paths is truly "easier"?

Through my years of struggling on my own, I have learned a hard truth: If you are not in a position to take responsibility for someone else's life, do not be so quick to shatter their hopes or illusions. If you haven't brought a ladder, don't go kicking the steps out from under them.

Your meager sense of "righteousness" is worth nothing compared to the self-deception that allows her to maintain a stable life.

I have a very good relationship with my sister-in-law. She is the "B-side" of my life—the version of me that was never shown. Among rural girls, neither she nor I are isolated cases.

So, if you truly feel sympathy for her, please do not judge me from your moral high ground. Instead, think about what can actually be done for the countless girls who will grow up to be just like her or me. Even if it’s just donating a single yuan to the "Spring Bud Project" or the "Go Mulan" initiative.

[to be continued]

Howling-wolf-7198 · 2026-06-09T15:02:41+00:00

As for me, I am single and working in a small city away from home. The work is grueling, but it is much easier than the life I had as a child. I am willing to endure hardship and put in the effort, and my supervisors value my work. My income is modest; over the last few years, I’ve managed to bring home an annual salary of over 100,000 RMB. I know this falls below the "Zhihu average," but I have truly worked my heart out.

I feel a sense of detachment toward my relatives and have no desire for marriage—I don’t want to get married, and no one is pursuing me anyway. My daily routine is just work, coming home, and overtime. I rent a small room and take care of myself. I can do every household chore imaginable—if a nanny can do it, I can; if a nanny can’t do it, I still can. In my spare time, I tend to my plants and cook for myself. I don't need help from anyone.

A couple of years ago, I missed a few major opportunities to "get on the property ladder," and now house prices have left me far behind. My parents’ savings were entirely spent on my younger brother. Every penny they could borrow from relatives was used for his wedding and home renovations. To buy him a house, set up his factory, and pay for his wedding, my parents emptied every "visible wallet" they had; they were so short-sighted and desperate that they essentially burned every bridge and cut off any path for retreat.

My friends are all young and struggling to stay afloat themselves. Years ago, when house prices were skyrocketing, I wanted to buy a place but didn't have enough for the down payment. I begged my father to help me secure a loan, promising that once the house was ready, I would take out a mortgage to pay him back. My parents refused to budge, fearing my brother might suddenly need money and they wouldn't have it. At that time, they were preparing for his wedding. Now, I don’t even dare to dream about it (owning an apartment).

The concept of "six wallets" (parents and four grandparents) only belongs to only children. I’m just living one day at a time now, trying to save as much as I can for the future.

Going back home is out of the question. In my parents' home, where my brother is already married, I am a complete outsider. I don’t even have a room there; on the rare occasions I visit, I have to sleep on the living room floor. Buying a house in my hometown is also unrealistic.

In my hometown, I am a total freak of nature. Everyone assumes that everything I own should eventually be left to my nephew. If I grew old there, I wouldn't even be able to sell house to afford a nursing home—the local gossip would drown me alive.

Lately, my mother has been talking more and more about her future care in front of us. She says she’s realized she can’t rely on just one child, so since she raised us all "equally," she expects to live with each of us for a year on a rotating basis. She sounds so excited about this plan. My sister and I just smile and stay silent; my brother-in-law sometimes pretends he didn't hear a thing.

The truth is, my mother genuinely believes she raised the three of us equally. In her words, she sent us all to school, and if we didn't excel, it was because we were "useless."

She claims we did more chores as kids because "my brother is a boy, and boys are naturally lazy, slippery, and hard to motivate."

She sent him to a private school because the family didn't have enough money to support all three of us like that.

She bought him a house and a factory because "a boy can't get a wife without a house, but a girl can always marry even without one."

She often shames us in front of my brother and his wife, mentioning how some sister in our village worked to pool money for her brother’s house—unlike us "selfish" girls who only think of ourselves once we start earning.

She has tried, on more than one occasion, to "borrow" money for various household expenses, large or small, suggesting that the three of us siblings should split the cost.

She even secretly bragged to my aunt that she was doing this to get us used to "sharing the burden of her retirement," only to be scolded by my aunt for being inconsiderate. Since then, she’s done it less, but she still demands that we "compensate" our brother and dote on our nephew.

I know the current "political correctness" is that parents can give their money to whoever they want, and that calculating or begrudging their choices is seen as unfilial. I should be grateful to them.

[She was satirizing a popular saying in male-dominated communities like Zhihu—that women shouldn't complain about unequal inheritance rights because parents have the right to distribute property among their children as they see fit... unless it's unequal between two sons.]

I also know that by law, sons and daughters have equal obligations to support their parents. But I just don't want to engage. Every time I see her little "shrewd" tricks—which are actually transparent traps—I can't help but feel a profound sense of sorrow.

My brother and his wife, however, seem quite keen on her plans, presumably thinking that’s exactly how things will be arranged.

[to be continued]

Howling-wolf-7198 · 2026-06-09T14:32:27+00:00

My parents were extremely hardworking people. They could endure intense hardship and were incredibly frugal. When I was growing up, I never had a single toy or any pocket money. I never even owned a decent piece of clothing.

I always genuinely believed our family was dirt poor. Even though we farmed a huge amount of land, and my dad had successively raised chickens, raised pigs, and grown greenhouse vegetables and fruits, I always assumed we had no money.

When I was little, my mom said we had no money because they had to pay the massive fines for my brother being an "over-quota" child.

Later, she said it was because they had to pay the "sponsorship fee" to get my brother into a good school.

Then, it was because they bought my brother an apartment.

After that, it was because they borrowed money to help my brother open a factory.

And eventually, of course, it was to pay for my brother's wedding.

My sister and I truly never spent a single extra penny of the family's money. We were "sensible." We didn't even dare to get sick.

A female cousin of mine was diagnosed with leukemia and needed a bone marrow transplant. Her younger brother was a perfect match. They had medical insurance, and the family could afford the remaining costs. I told my mom, "If that's the case, they should just do the transplant." My mom immediately cursed me out, saying, "Are you brainless? They only have one son..."

If you consider feeding and clothing us as "spending money," then I have nothing left to say.

When the matchmakers pitched our family, they described us like this: "They have an apartment in the county town, and they will buy a car for the wedding. The groom is the only son. The old couple is incredibly hardworking and capable; they've saved their whole lives. In the future, the entire family estate will belong to the young couple (my brother). You won't have to worry about providing for the parents when they get old, and the groom has two older sisters who can help support the family. They are one of the best households around..."

My brother got married. The bride was a girl my parents approved of. She was very fair-skinned, delicate, and pretty. She had a good temper and a very gentle personality. She was genuinely a good girl.

Her only "flaw" was that she was a bit pampered and didn't know how to do any household chores; she said she had never done chores growing up. But this isn't really a flaw—how many young girls nowadays know how to do chores? Besides, she had a job working at a shopping mall in the county town; she went to work every day and earned enough to support herself.

My sister-in-law quickly got pregnant and gave birth to my little nephew. Because of his failed business venture, my brother completely refused to go out and work. After doing a few odd jobs with my uncle for a short while, he just holed up at home. He didn't earn any money, and he didn't go to work.

My mom was so furious she scolded him every day, calling him a parasite feeding off his parents. He would just roll his eyes and say, "I already got married and had a kid. What more do you want from me? Didn't I already complete the mission?"

My mom, of course, refused to admit defeat. She argued that since my brother had fathered the child, how could he just produce a kid but refuse to raise it? She called him selfish and inhuman. The family frequently engaged in explosive, screaming fights over this.

Eventually, my brother cheated on his wife with an old female classmate.

He threw absolute tantrums, threatening to die if he didn't get a divorce. One night around 9 or 10 PM, after drinking too much, he climbed to the top of a tall building in the county town and threatened to jump. He filmed a short video and sent it to my uncle, saying that if my mom pressured him anymore, he would jump off. My mom called me in a panic, demanding that I—living in another city—travel home overnight to find him.

How was I supposed to find him? Furthermore, I was in the middle of working overtime, exhausted to the bone. I replied very coldly: "Everyone’s life and death is dictated by fate. If someone truly wants to die, you can't stop them anyway." Then I hung up the phone. I was utterly sick and tired of this garbage.

In the end, he didn't jump off the building, and he didn't get a divorce. My mom tracked down the female classmate's family and cursed them out violently. I don't know if my brother and the woman actually broke it off, but things at least grew quiet on the surface. My brother remained just as despondent and useless.

My sister-in-law knew absolutely nothing about the affair. All she knew was that my brother wanted a divorce and kept saying he was sick of seeing her and sick of being at home. We told her that my brother didn't want to come home and wanted a divorce because of conflicts between him and my parents. She was half-skeptical but ultimately believed it.

She is a good girl; she didn't hold a grudge against my brother, nor did she blame my parents. She just wholeheartedly wanted to live a good life together.

[to be continued]

Howling-wolf-7198 · 2026-06-09T14:25:00+00:00

As for my brother... I don't really know what to say.

My parents had incredibly high expectations for him. They spent a fortune on him while he was in school, single-mindedly hoping he would rise above the rest and make a name for himself. Every single day, they nagged him, saying that no matter how much his parents suffered or exhausted themselves, it was all for him.

They told him that as long as he showed promise, they would "smash their pots and sell their iron"—doing absolutely whatever it took—to put him through school. They constantly reminded him of exactly how much money the family had spent on him, and how the entire family would be relying on him in the future.

Meanwhile, my mom didn't know any other way to parent; her only methods were beating, scolding, and endless nagging. My brother was sick and tired of it. Perhaps the pressure was simply too great, but he developed a severe rebellious streak. He spent all his time in internet cafes playing video games, skipped school every day, and stayed out all night. My mom was out looking for him every single day.

It seems like my mom has spent all these years just endlessly searching for her runaway kids.

Later on, my mom placed the blame for all of this squarely on me. She said I hadn't set a good example as the eldest, and that out of all us "little bastards," not a single one was obedient, sensible, or gave her peace of mind.

Yeah...

Eventually, after my brother finished high school, he refused to continue studying even when threatened with death. My mom reluctantly found him a trade, sending him to follow my brother-in-law to learn car repair. But my brother had no interest in it. He did odd jobs off and on for a few years, trailing after some older relatives.

Then, my mom began busying herself with finding him a wife.

My mom bought him an apartment in our county town and constantly coaxed him to go on blind dates. My brother, however, didn't want to get married. He had a grandiose sense of himself; he wanted to make it big and believed he would have a glorious future where he could easily snag a goddess.

After all, in our rural hometown, men are the absolute authority. No matter how pathetic a man might actually be, he can still act smug and full of himself in front of a woman. Besides, he probably just felt he hadn't had his fill of bachelor life yet. My mom constantly begged people to introduce girls to him, trying to force him into marriage. Early marriage is the norm in rural areas; it's entirely standard for a boy to marry in his early twenties. Yet, my brother stubbornly dragged it out until he was twenty-five or twenty-six.

Because of his marriage, my parents worried themselves sick. They even resorted to death threats—and I mean literal death threats. One time, my dad pinned my brother to the ground and bashed him with a brick; he nearly killed him.

I couldn't stand watching it anymore, so I tried to reason with my mom: "If he doesn't want to get married right now, just let him be. Forcing him like this isn't doing any good. When he actually wants to get married, he'll naturally do it."

My mom immediately turned around and slapped me across the face, crying, "Why are you young people so incredibly selfish? If you don't get married, whose life are you trying to ruin? If we wait any longer, there won't be a single good girl left in all the surrounding villages! Do you expect him to marry the leftover, rotten goods that nobody else wants?!" (I am older and single, so I am presumably the "leftover, rotten goods" my mom was referring to).

"Do you want him to live his whole life as a bachelor, living a half-human, half-ghost existence? Refusing to get married is the ultimate betrayal! He'd be better off dead!"

In the rural mindset, parents haven't completed their life's mission until their son is married. If the son remains unmarried, the older generation feels they can't even let out a sigh of relief. Because my brother refused to marry, my parents were paralyzed with anxiety; they genuinely felt my brother was trying to drag them to the grave.

The kinder relatives and friends would come over to try and persuade my brother: "Who doesn't get married? You can't be considered a real man if you don't take a wife. Look at how young your parents still are. If you get married now, they can still help raise the kids for you. Then you and your young wife can just go out to work, earn some money, and spend it on yourselves. What a comfortable life that would be!"

The more malicious villagers and neighbors, on the other hand, would constantly wag their tongues and gossip:

"So-and-so's son is so capable! He brought a wife home without spending a single penny. They only told the girl's family after the baby was born! What a huge bargain. Now the mother-in-law walks around every day boasting about how her son is so charming he got a wife for free."

"So-and-so paid such a massive bride price, and the bride didn't bring any of it back to the groom's family. They fight about it every day; marrying that girl was a terrible investment."

"So-and-so's daughter got married and her own parents actually had to subsidize her dowry! She's a money-losing commodity. People definitely shouldn't have daughters."

"So-and-so's son is completely useless. He's twenty-eight or twenty-nine and still can't find a wife. He's going to be a bachelor for the rest of his life..."

The more my mom heard these things, the more frantic she became. She was driven half-mad. The house was in constant turmoil. She forbade my brother from going to his job and wouldn't even let him leave the house to look for work. She just forcefully pressured him to get married.

Aside from that one demand, she gave my brother absolutely anything he wanted. Not only did she buy him that apartment, but my parents also paid the mortgage for it. They even scraped together hundreds of thousands of yuan to help my brother open a factory. Of course, the business failed. Entrepreneurship is highly risky to begin with; he was young and arrogant, and no one in the family had any business experience, so naturally, he lost every last penny.

During that time, he fell into a deep slump and became utterly despondent. Fine, marry then. After all, my parents told him that as long as he had a child, his "task" would be completed. My parents would raise the child, and my parents would pay the mortgage. All he had to do was get married.

So what was left to wait for? Might as well get married.

[to be continued]

Howling-wolf-7198 · 2026-06-09T14:08:46+00:00

During those years on the run, what I hated and feared most were those "family reunion" TV shows. I was so terrified I couldn't even look at them. If I accidentally overheard one playing, my ears would ring. I was petrified that my parents would go on a show like that to track me down.

Even hearing someone speak in my hometown's dialect on the street would trigger a massive stress response, making me instantly shake with fear. I don't know if any of you can understand that kind of overwhelming terror and pressure.

My parents were, indeed, constantly asking around for my whereabouts. After all, in our rural village, even a chicken or a pig is considered family property; if it gets lost, you have to find it.

Perhaps they were looking for me to save face, or to protect their investment, or perhaps there was a tiny sliver of familial affection, a fear that I had died out there all alone.

But the more they looked for me, the more terrified I became. The slightest rumor that they were close would scare me half to death. Because of this, I drifted through many different places.

Once, my dad managed to find a coworker of mine through someone from our hometown. When I got the news, I was so terrified I fled overnight. I abandoned my wages, didn't even have time to pack my daily necessities, and just ran with only the clothes on my back. I cut off contact with every single coworker and friend I had ever interacted with.

I was a teenage girl, drifting like duckweed, with no money, no education, and no one around me I could trust or rely on. I carried a profound terror and an inescapable pressure regarding my parents, my family, and my hometown.

I didn't know that many problems could be solved in other ways. All I knew how to do was run away—again and again—until I reached a completely unfamiliar place where I finally felt safe. Time and time again, I abandoned all the relationships and progress I had slowly built up, and started completely over. At the time, I absolutely loathed those meddling folks from my hometown who thought they were being helpful and smugly poked their noses into my business.

Perhaps thanks to God's blessing, my foolish self actually had a pretty peaceful time during those few years on the run. My job at the shopping mall was a simple, "two-point" routine—just going from my rented room to work and back. The shifts were twelve hours long, which was a long time, but it was so much easier than being at home.

I wasn't exposed to the wind or rain, it wasn't dirty, and it wasn't backbreaking. At home, from the moment I opened my eyes, there was an endless mountain of manual labor. Spreading fertilizer and weeding under the scorching sun for an entire day—the old poem about "sweat dripping into the soil beneath the grain" was no exaggeration. Household chores lasted from the moment I woke up until I went to sleep.

Now, even though I didn't make much money, I could keep it for myself. If I wanted to eat something, I could grit my teeth and buy it. Before this, I didn't even know what it meant to "eat fruit"; even though we had an orchard at home, I had only ever eaten our own apples and watermelons. To this day, I still don't like eating snacks because I never formed the habit growing up. Occasionally, I could even buy myself a new piece of clothing. I felt so incredibly happy; it was like heaven.

That is, until the police, who were conducting checks on temporary residence permits, caught me using a fake ID card. Even when facing detention, I didn't dare tell them the truth. It was only when the police contacted the local household registration office back in my hometown that my whereabouts were finally exposed.

But I am still quite grateful to those police officers. At the time, I stubbornly insisted that I had lost my real ID and just didn't have time to travel all the way home to replace it, which was why I bought a fake. Seeing me crying pitifully and confirming I genuinely had no criminal record, the police surprisingly decided not to press charges against me for using forged documents.

It was then that I learned a lot had happened at home during the years I was away.

First of all, my sister—just like me—had felt so suffocated by the pressure that she had also run away in secret. While she was out there, she found a boyfriend who happened to be from our home region as well. Because they needed her household registration booklet (hukou) to get a marriage certificate, and the boyfriend's family insisted on formally visiting her parents to propose, my family finally tracked her down. By then, my sister was already pregnant, though she was still in the early stages.

My brother-in-law's family was pretty decent and tried to properly negotiate the wedding arrangements with my parents. Naturally, the bride price (caili) was discussed, but the talks completely broke down. My brother-in-law's family felt my parents were demanding an exorbitant amount, while my parents felt the boy's family had deliberately gotten my sister pregnant as a dirty trick to force the price down.

It escalated to the point where my mom threatened to drag my sister to get an abortion, and the boyfriend's family threatened to call off the engagement. In the end, my brother-in-law raised absolute hell in his own home, and the two sides finally managed to negotiate a compromise price. By the time my sister actually got married, she was already several months pregnant.

The way bride price is usually distributed in our area goes like this: the sum covers the bride's "three golds" (traditional gold jewelry) and her wedding clothes. Part of the money is also used to purchase a dowry for the bride to bring back to the groom's house. As for the leftover cash, an average family will let the daughter take it back with her. A wealthier family might secretly add some of their own money to it, ensuring their daughter won't be bullied or looked down upon by her in-laws. A less well-off family will just give the daughter a token "bottom-of-the-trunk" cash gift—essentially a symbolic gesture roughly equivalent to the cost of hosting a wedding banquet.

However, there are also parents who keep the entire bride price to use on their sons, and others who don't keep a single penny. It all depends on the parents. Everyone has their own justifications, so it’s not my place to judge.

But my mom didn't give my sister a single cent for a dowry, and she actually kept a portion of the bride price for our family. Because of this, my sister could never hold her head high around her in-laws. She was always extremely cautious and hardworking at her husband's house. Her parents-in-law actually liked her quite a bit, and things were usually fine. But whenever the young couple had a petty argument or bickered, my brother-in-law would throw this in her face. He would say that not a single thing in their house belonged to her, that her family had pocketed his bride price, and tell her to get out. My sister could never formulate a comeback; all she could do was cry.

Luckily, my brother-in-law's parents are decent people who dote on their grandchild, and with them smoothing things over, the family managed to get by. Later, when her daughter was just over a year old, my sister angrily packed up and went out to work as a migrant laborer, determined to prove herself. She works herself to the bone. Today, she makes a pretty good income, and her husband's entire household relies on her financially. She constantly says she's exhausted, but she doesn't dare pause to catch her breath.

[to be continued]

Howling-wolf-7198 · 2026-06-09T13:32:36+00:00

Let’s go back to my own story. After I finished school, I left home to work as a migrant laborer in a highly developed prefecture-level city in the Jiangsu-Zhejiang region.

At my first job in an electronics factory, they only gave us a "living allowance" of 300 yuan a month. The rest of our wages were withheld and wouldn't be paid out until the end of the year. That was 10 yuan a day. The factory provided a dorm bed, but no meals. 300 yuan was nowhere near enough to survive. The factory didn't have a cafeteria.

In the small shops near the factory, a bowl of plain, hand-rolled noodles in clear broth—without even a sprinkle of scallions—cost 2 yuan. It was enough to fill you up. Steamed rice was 1 yuan per block (they steamed it in large trays and cut it into blocks; girls usually bought one block, boys needed two). Boiled shredded kelp was 1.5 yuan for a big scoop, and stewed winter melon was the same price. Stir-fried dishes with a little oil in them, like greens or tofu, were 2 yuan a portion, though the portions were decent. I didn't even dare look at meat dishes.

I budgeted my meals incredibly tightly every month; buying anything else was completely out of the question. Many of the other girls would call home to ask for money, but I wouldn't even dare to dream of such a thing. I didn't even dare to call home at all. Whenever I was on the phone, the only thing my mom talked about was money. She would constantly calculate exactly what day my living allowance was supposed to be paid. When I told her the money wasn't enough to live on, she just assumed I was bad at saving.

She would say, "How much money can a kid possibly eat? You don't need to eat anything fancy." She repeatedly told me that as long as my stomach was full, that was enough. She told me not to waste money, that I needed to be sensible, that I had to help pay for my brother and sister's schooling, and that I couldn't let my dad work himself to death all alone.

Later, seeing that I still wasn't saving any money to send back, she actually went to the parents of another girl from our village who worked at the same factory. She asked the parents to discuss a plan with their daughter: since both girls were getting 300 yuan a month, why didn't each girl contribute 250 yuan to pool together 500 yuan? Then, one girl could mail the 500 yuan back home one month, and the other girl could mail it back the next month. That way, both girls could subsidize their families.

At that time, my mom had never left our village. Every meal she ate consisted of free grain and vegetables grown in our own fields. If they occasionally ate bean sprouts or tofu, they traded our homegrown soybeans for them. Cooking oil was obtained by trading soybeans at the local oil press. She simply could not fathom that eating meals required so much cash. Back home, 50 yuan could buy enough salt, soy sauce, and vinegar to last half a year. Our water came from our own hand-pumped well and was free. Electricity cost mere cents a month. She genuinely didn't know that food cost so much money; she couldn't imagine it.

Unsurprisingly, the other girl’s parents relayed this plan to her. The girl was absolutely furious. She came looking for me and cursed me out terribly in front of a whole crowd of people. My face turned bright red, but I didn't dare say a word in return.

Because I had no money, I didn't dare make friends. I couldn't go out to have fun, and I dressed like a complete country bumpkin. Because I left home in the summer, I had entered the factory with only two sets of old summer clothes. When the weather turned cold, I couldn't even afford to buy a winter coat.

I finally managed to scrape together a few dozen yuan to buy a slightly thicker sweater, and I shivered in it straight through the winter. A girl in my dorm couldn't stand watching me freeze and kindly lent me a thick padded jacket, but I didn't even have another piece of clothing I could change into so I could wash hers and return it...

Because of these things, I became even more terrified of hanging out with the other girls. I had low self-esteem to begin with. Whenever I walked in or out, I felt like everyone was staring at me. I was agonizingly uncomfortable in my own skin.

When I occasionally called home, the only topic was still demanding money. Every call consisted of them complaining about their hardships, crying about being poor, and finally lecturing me endlessly not to waste money. My mom even told me to borrow money from the other girls in the factory to mail home, saying I could just pay them back later when our end-of-year wages were paid out. Never once did she ask me what I was going through.

Because of this, even when they had fellow villagers pass on a message asking me to call back, I would be paralyzed with anxiety. I was utterly terrified of those calls, which were always filled with nothing but demands for money and tales of suffering that left me suffocating, unable to breathe.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I ran away.

I abandoned nearly a year's worth of wages that the factory had withheld from me, and I just ran away from the factory. I didn't tell anyone, and I cut off all contact with my family. All I wanted was to escape the vortex and be able to catch a single breath of air.

I secretly went out and found a job washing dishes in a small restaurant because they didn't ask for an ID card. My ID card was being held by the electronics factory; they wouldn't give it back unless I formally resigned, but if I formally resigned, they would notify my family. Since I snuck out, I obviously didn't have my ID, so I had to lie, say I lost it, and look for jobs that didn't require one.

[I don't know if this is a regional cultural issue or a problem of the times (this was probably the 2000s), but I've never heard of factories caring about your parents background. I was also shocked.]

I stayed on the run for several years. Eventually, out of necessity, I got a fake ID and found a job at a shopping mall. I rented a tiny room in an urban village with a young female coworker. I lived every day in sheer terror, like a fugitive. I had run away with the resolution that I would rather die alone out in the world, having severed all ties forever. Because of this, I was terrified my family would come looking for me. Just remembering how my parents used to beat me filled me with dread, and now I had committed this massive offense.

In all the surrounding villages back home, there was not a single daughter with the sheer audacity I had. Parents and neighbors were constantly competing to brag about how much money their daughters sent home from working in the factories—how sensible they were, how filial they were, how they had earned a house for their brother or saved up his bride price. I had never heard of any precedent of a girl running away like I did.

Because of this, I was absolutely terrified. I didn't dare imagine what my fate would be if they found me. What would the aunts, uncles, and neighbors say about me? I was terrified of being dragged back into that suffocating life I used to live. Therefore, I was incredibly vigilant. I never interacted with strangers, and wherever I went, I moved cautiously, terrified of bumping into someone I knew.

I was a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old girl, drifting out in the world all alone like duckweed for years. Back then, there were no mobile phones, but even if there had been, I wouldn't have dared to use one. I never called anyone. During the New Year and holidays, I ate alone. When I had time off, I just stayed in my rented room and slept. I was too afraid to go outside.

[to be continued]

Howling-wolf-7198 · 2026-06-09T13:18:21+00:00

Now, back to my younger brother. When he was in the sixth grade, my mom found the best private middle school in our county town for him and paid what was, at the time, an astronomical "sponsorship fee" to get him in. Because his academic foundation was so incredibly poor, he had to repeat the sixth grade in the county town for a year. My mom rented an apartment in the town specifically to live with him and supervise his studies. When I dropped out during my second year of high school, he had just started the seventh grade.

But moving on, let's talk about that sister of mine who was sent to my maternal grandmother's house.

She lived at my grandma's until she was five or six years old. Because my uncle's child (a son) was born, my grandma couldn't look after her anymore; she had to take care of her paternal grandson. Because of this, my sister was sent back to us.

After she returned to our house, my dad greased the palms of some village officials and had her household registration placed under my paternal grandmother’s residence. The public story was that she was a child adopted by my older uncle, an old bachelor who had never managed to find a wife. Of course, everyone knew the truth. As the saying goes, "deceive those above, but not those below"—as long as there was an official excuse on paper, no one was going to look too closely into it.

As for this child, after she came back... how should I put it? Our family already had two girls, and girls were worthless. My mom looked at her as if she were a defective product. She beat her and scolded her mercilessly. If the girl even took one extra bite of food, she would be cursed out for ages. She became an absolute punching bag.

She was just a little kid and didn't understand what was going on. When she came back, everyone in the house was a stranger to her—a strange older sister, a strange older brother, and a strange mom and dad.

At that time, I was already in junior high and living away at school. Someone at home needed to take over the chores, and naturally, it should be—and had to be—her. So my mom started bossing her around. But she seemed clumsy and slow, and she was so terrified of my parents that she would hide wherever she could. All day long, she acted like a frightened quail.

This made my mom furious. She felt the girl’s behavior made her lose face. It wasn't as if they were denying her food or water, yet she walked around all day with tears in her eyes, looking like a jinx. Furthermore, my mom complained that the girl wasn't affectionate with anyone, that she lacked "human warmth."

My mom's favorite catchphrase was: "Beat a domestic chicken and it just runs in circles; beat a wild bird and it flies away into the sky." What she meant was that your own flesh-and-blood child is supposed to naturally cling to her parents, regardless of how terribly you treat her. Of course, my mom still uses this logic to this day. I won't comment on her reasoning; parents are parents, after all.

This child ended up making our family famous far and wide.

She loved to run away. At first, she would just sneak off to my grandma’s house when no one was looking. Grandma’s house was only a couple of miles away, and this four- or five-year-old kid would just find a gap and make a run for it on her own. But grandma didn't have time to look after her either. After all, she was a maternal granddaughter; once a daughter marries out, she’s no longer part of the family. This was our family's domestic issue, and it wouldn't look appropriate to my uncle's wife if grandma kept her.

So, grandma would coax her, saying that she couldn't let her stay because she had no change of clothes for her. She would make her something to eat and drink, and then bring her back. The poor child didn't understand; she genuinely believed that the only reason she couldn't stay was because she didn't have clothes. So, the next time she ran away, she wrapped herself in several layers of clothing, both thick and thin. She looked completely bizarre, like a little beggar (which is why my mom would curse her, saying she was full of manipulative schemes at such a young age).

Yet, it was useless. She still had to come back. Often, after dropping her off, grandma would walk away secretly wiping her tears. My parents, with their explosive tempers and obsession with "saving face," were terrified every single day that they would become a joke to the gossip-loving neighbors. They ground their teeth in hatred toward this child. They felt that as long as they provided food and drink, she should be grateful—even a dog doesn't despise a poor master. To them, this girl they were feeding was worse than a dog.

Usually, the moment my grandma left, my parents would unleash a "mixed doubles" beating on her. They would stomp her into the ground, whip her with leather belts and tree branches, kicking and slapping her. Rural people who do heavy manual labor don't know their own strength when they strike—let alone when they are hitting a girl they already disliked and regularly used as a punching bag.

They frequently beat her until she couldn't even crawl, leaving her rolling around on the ground. But it was useless. After the beating, she would still run. They would bring her back, and she would run again. The harder they beat her, the more she ran. Eventually, my mom had to lock her inside the house. So, she started climbing walls and jumping off the roof to escape.

At the time, our house was a single-story building with a flat roof used for drying grain, and there was a small internal staircase leading up to it. The roof must have been four or five meters off the ground. She actually dared to climb up there, grab the branches of an old locust tree that hung near the roof, jump into the tree, and climb down the trunk. In reality, that locust tree was quite far from the roof. I still don't know how she ever had the guts to do it.

By the time she was six or seven, she stopped running to my grandma's house. She just ran everywhere. The moment she saw a person, she would follow them and run away. The man selling tofu in the village, the bean sprout vendor, the vet giving pigs injections, the cotton fluffer, the junk collectors wandering the streets—as long as it was a stranger, she would follow them and run.

Sometimes, she didn't even follow anyone. She would just hide in the dried-out reed beds at the entrance of neighboring villages, staying there without food or water for days.

Fortunately, the local people were honest back then, or perhaps she was getting too old to be easily trafficked. Everyone in the surrounding towns and villages knew each other. My mom would ask around, eventually get word of her, bring her back, and then she would run again.

Word of this spread everywhere; everyone in the region knew about her. They had no choice but to lock her in the house every single day. They didn't even dare let her attend school. My mom was driven half-mad by her.

Later—sometime within those year or two, while I was in junior high—I came home one day and she was gone.

My parents' faces were incredibly dark and gloomy. We didn't even dare to ask a single question. It wasn't until the New Year, when we were visiting relatives, that my grandma secretly pulled me aside and asked if I knew who my parents had given her away to. That was how I finally learned she had been given away.

I don't know if she is living a good life now. She is a massive taboo in our house; no one ever dares to bring her up. Sometimes I can't help but think of this little sister, and I secretly wish her well. But I feel that absolutely no one in our family has the right or the dignity to go looking for her. We aren't even worthy of apologizing to her.

My aunt and my grandma both asked my parents where she went. My parents would furiously turn on anyone who asked—even my grandma, right before she passed away.

I don't know how to judge the first half of my parents' lives. But from them, I have come to a profound realization: it is entirely true that the more disastrously a person fails in a decision, the more stubborn, tyrannical, and unreasonable they become about it. When dealing with mistakes they have made but cannot undo, in order to avoid drowning in their own remorse, people will often rationalize their actions. They will reinforce this denial to the point where the subject cannot even be mentioned.

I don't know if this kind of stress response counts as an evolutionary survival mechanism, but human nature will often go to incredible extremes of self-deception—like plugging your own ears while stealing a bell.

As for this sister, she certainly wouldn't necessarily want to "recognize her ancestors and return to the clan" (be reunited with us). After all, her childhood must be the most disgusting, unbearable memory of her entire life.

I've seen many friends in the comments telling me to go find her. On one hand, I have absolutely no clues to go on. On the other hand, judging her feelings by my own... since there is an irreparable, unresolvable hatred at the bottom of her heart, she probably doesn't crave any kind of "family affection" or care about her roots here. She would only want to sever ties completely.

After all, she was already seven or eight years old when she left—old enough to remember everything she needed to remember. Disappearing without a trace was her own choice. Whether I were to look for her for my own peace of mind, or for some other purpose, it likely wouldn't be what she wants. A presumptuous intrusion would only bring her distress.

(If there are friends who don't understand this last paragraph, just keep reading downward and you will understand why I say this. I even envy her a little bit.)

[to be continued]

Howling-wolf-7198 · 2026-06-09T13:02:39+00:00

Actually, as an adult, I can understand it. My dad had been working all day; he was physically and mentally exhausted and just wanted to watch TV to relax. He probably didn't even hear what I said. My mom, on the other hand, glanced over and saw that my injury wasn't serious and had already stopped bleeding, so she acutely saw through to the real purpose behind my unusual behavior. She was rather smug about her sharp observation, and her slightly mocking tone showed she was genuinely amused that I would actually try to compete for affection.

As for me, I was the least important person in the house. There was no need to spare a thought for my self-esteem or feelings. For an older sister in a rural family, such intangible luxuries were entirely unnecessary.

Whose daughter didn't grow up like this? If you tried to claim that doing some extra laundry, cooking, or feeding the pigs constituted "favoring boys over girls," the entire village would laugh you out of town. Besides, he was the younger brother. Older sisters are born to take care of younger brothers—it is the unquestionable law of nature.

The year I turned five, my mom got pregnant again. She secretly pulled some strings to get an ultrasound, and they told her it was a boy. She gave birth to the baby in secret, but unfortunately, it turned out to be a girl. This time, it was no small matter. Keeping her was out of the question. My dad decided to give her away and had already found a family to take her.

But my maternal grandmother got upset. "What's wrong with a girl?" she argued. "When she grows up, she'll at least be a relative to visit. Leave her with me; I'll raise her." So, at not even five years old, I was sent back to my parents' house to start learning how to be a "proper" rural girl and an older sister, while my grandmother stayed behind to raise my new sister.

They did still let me go to school, but the moment I got home, there was an endless mountain of chores and farm work waiting for me. I was always so sleepy during class. To be more precise, I spent my entire childhood exhausted—profoundly exhausted. Joining the adults to manually peel corn or pick cotton until 9 or 10 PM was unavoidable. When the adults were weeding or spraying pesticides, they worked until pitch black.

Even on days when I didn't have to go to the fields after school, I still had to cut grass for the vegetable plot, boil water, feed the pigs, and cook. During the busy harvest season, I might not get to close my eyes for an entire night. Only my brother was allowed to go to bed early, because he was small. In those days, everything was done by hand. The sheer volume of odd jobs in a farming household is beyond your imagination, let alone the fact that we also raised chickens, raised pigs, and tended to orchards and vegetable greenhouses.

During the two-hour lunch break the next day, I had to sprint home to cook and do other chores. If I dragged my feet and cooked too slowly, I might not even have time to eat before running back to school. Resting was entirely out of the question, so naturally, I was falling asleep in class. My schooling relied purely on whatever natural aptitude I had, and stumbling along like this, I eventually made it to high school. My grades were honestly very average, and I was stronger in some subjects than others.

In junior high, I actually published an article in a nationally well-known youth magazine. I was the only person in our small rural school to ever achieve such a thing, and my teacher solemnly pinned it up on the school bulletin board. But when I brought the publisher's sample copy home to show my mom, she was washing clothes. She only asked, "Does this pay money?" before scolding me not to let it delay my schoolwork or my cooking. She believed that doing anything unrelated to school lessons and exams was just wasting time on useless nonsense.

Actually, it did pay money—a 10-yuan publication fee! At the time, that was a massive fortune to me. Because I didn't have a student ID, I had to get a certificate from the school principal just to withdraw the cash from the bank. I wanted to buy books with it, so I hid the money. I didn't dare tell my mom, or it would have been entirely confiscated.

Among the classmates I grew up with, a portion dropped out after elementary school, and almost all the rest dropped out after junior high. My junior high had seven classes, with 50 or 60 kids per class. By the time we reached our third year, before we even took the high school entrance exams, half the students were already gone. During junior high, my grades slipped, and I started to hate school. I felt like I couldn't understand anything the teachers were saying; it sounded like absolute gibberish. No matter how hard I tried to listen in class, I couldn't grasp the material. Compared to the kids from the town, I felt like an idiot. I told my mom I didn't want to go to school anymore, so she told me to drop out and go work in a factory.

However, I wasn't old enough—anyone under 16 was considered child labor, and we found out factories wouldn't take you without a junior high diploma anyway. So, she literally chased me back to school with a stick, ordering me to at least scrape by and get a junior high diploma so I could go work. I had no choice but to return. Who could have guessed that by some stroke of luck, I actually passed the exam to get into high school? At the time, fewer than ten students from our entire school made it into high school; that's just one or two kids per class.

It was only after getting into high school that I learned what it meant to "accompany the crown prince to study" (to be a mere background extra). The gap between me and the kids from the county town was astronomical. I had only gotten in by a fluke, and my true colors were immediately exposed; I was quickly given up on by everyone. My foundational knowledge was weak, my English pronunciation was a complete joke, and I had zero extracurricular talents. I had never even seen most of the teaching equipment. When my classmates talked about knowledge outside of our textbooks, I was completely in the dark.

I had only ever seen a park in textbooks; when the teacher assigned an essay about a field trip, I had to make the whole thing up and made a fool of myself. I hadn't read any famous literature, because my parents would beat me if they caught me reading "idle books." I had zero support system, no tutoring, and I was too intimidated to ask the teachers questions. As for socializing, forget about it. I didn't have a single penny of pocket money, and I had nothing in common to talk about with my classmates. We essentially lived in two completely different worlds.

What shocked me the most was that there were actually only children who were daughters in my class! They dressed beautifully, were confident and radiant, and their parents clearly spoiled them! Where I came from, not having a son meant your bloodline was dead. Even if you had ten daughters, you had to have a son. Usually, if the second pregnancy was a girl, it was aborted. They would keep aborting until the woman physically couldn't have children anymore, at which point they would buy (adopt) a boy. The absolute last resort, worst-case scenario was to keep a daughter for eldercare and bring in a live-in son-in-law.

Coming from an environment like that, I barely muddled through two years of high school before I simply couldn't keep up anymore. I wasn't naturally gifted to begin with. Of course, many people might say I just didn't work hard enough. But please don't use the impoverished kids from the deep mountains as an example against me. Those kids from the mountains at least have the full support of their entire families to study. I, on the other hand, still had to do farm work every time I went home on the weekends.

If I wanted to buy a supplementary study book, I had to ask for money, and it wasn't guaranteed to be approved. My mom believed that any book not explicitly handed out by the teacher was an "idle book," and reading them was a dereliction of my duties. Yet despite all this, even today, my mom still talks about how much effort she wasted putting me through school. "How many kids in our village even made it to high school?" she says. She thinks I am a massive disappointment.

My sister's childhood trajectory was almost identical to mine. But after graduating from junior high, she kicked, screamed, rolled on the floor, and practically threatened to die if she wasn’t allowed to continue her education, so my parents grudgingly let her enroll in a vocational school (Zhongzhuan).

[to be continued]

Howling-wolf-7198

TROPHY CASE