Jing Yanguo, freshly discharged from the hospital, trudged back to her apartment clutching a worn canvas tote bag, her steps heavy with exhaustion.

She fumbled with her keys, but the lock refused to turn. Hmm? Did I grab the wrong key?

No, she was certain—this was the right one.

Which could only mean one thing: the lock had been changed.

Voices inside the apartment—her mother’s, she recognized them. She knocked. After a long pause, the door creaked open to reveal her mother, Liu Chunhua, impeccably dressed despite the hour.

Her face twisted in disgust the moment she saw Jing Yanguo. "What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in the hospital?"

Liu Chunhua was Jing Yanguo’s birth mother—or so she’d always believed.

"I need money for medical bills," Jing Yanguo rasped, her voice weak from illness. She’d been discharged earlier, only to discover all her belongings, including her bank cards, had vanished. The nurses claimed Liu Chunhua had taken them.

Liu Chunhua’s expression darkened. "Medical bills? You’re a doctor yourself—treat yourself if you’re so capable. Wasting money on hospitals is foolish!"

Ignoring her, Jing Yanguo walked to the cabinet where she kept her cards. Opening it, she froze. Gone.

"Who took my bank cards?" she demanded.

Liu Chunhua’s gaze darted away, then hardened. "I gave them to Qiuhong. Face it—you’re dying anyway. No point throwing money away."

Rage surged through Jing Yanguo. "I’ve been in the hospital for weeks, and the only time you visited was when you stole my bag. I know you favor Qiuhong, but this is my life we’re talking about!"

"Your life?" Liu Chunhua sneered. "The doctor said it’s breast cancer. No amount of money will save you. Qiuhong’s getting married to Liu Siyuan—they need a down payment for a house. I already emptied your card for her."

The words hit like a bucket of ice water.

From childhood, Liu Chunhua had favored her younger siblings, hoarding every advantage for them. Jing Yanguo had endured it—after all, she was the eldest, expected to sacrifice. But this? This was her life’s savings, stolen to fund her sister’s wedding while she lay dying.

Too weak to argue, she turned to her safe and withdrew the deed to her apartment.

Liu Chunhua paled. "What are you doing with that?"

"Selling it to pay my bills."

"You heartless wretch!" Liu Chunhua screeched. "If you sell this place, where will I live?"

Jing Yanguo didn’t answer. She started for the door, but Liu Chunhua grabbed her arm. "Fine, leave—but leave the deed behind!"

That was it.

"This apartment is mine," Jing Yanguo snapped. "If another girl got sick, her family would rally around her. But you? You gave my money to Qiuhong and now you’re blocking me from saving my own life. Are you even my real mother?"

The question had haunted her for years. Why did other mothers dote on their daughters while hers treated her like a cash cow?

Years ago, she’d handed over every paycheck, until she realized the pattern and stopped. Liu Chunhua’s attitude soured overnight. When Jing Yanguo bought this apartment, Liu Chunhua had "moved in to help"—and never left.

Now, this.

Liu Chunhua’s face twisted into something venomous. "Might as well tell you the truth. No, I’m not your real mother. Your father and I couldn’t conceive, so we adopted you."

"We raised you out of kindness. But you owe us—your ‘real’ family. Qiuhong needs that money for her wedding!"

Jing Yanguo’s blood turned to ice. Adopted? The doubts she’d buried surfaced with a vengeance. Her parents had always insisted otherwise, and she’d never dared question it...

Liu Chunhua leaned in, cruel smile widening. "Face it—you’d be dead if we hadn’t taken you in. Thirty years of free labor, and now you’re just a dying burden. Hand over the deed and crawl off to die somewhere else. Qiuhong’s wedding fund can’t wait!"

Furious, Jing Yanguo staggered toward the door. Liu Chunhua, now unmasked, lunged to stop her—

—and shoved her hard against the cabinet.

Pain exploded in Jing Yanguo’s head. The world spun. She crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Liu Chunhua stared down at her. "Don’t you dare die here. The estate agents will deduct cleanup costs from the sale price!"

With that, she dragged Jing Yanguo to the elevator, shoved her into the shaft, and slammed the button for the basement garage. The doors closed with a ding.

Alone in the dark, Jing Yanguo came to, her body aching, her mind reeling.

Her life flashed before her:

Forced labor as a child, groomed to serve her siblings. Top student—until she was pushed off a cliff (who had done it?). Rescued by a local thug, only for her mother to nearly marry her off for a thousand-yuan bride price.

Her grandmother had saved her—but the damage was done. By seventeen, she’d escaped to a factory job, studying nights to earn her medical degrees. A renowned herbalist had taken her as a disciple, and for once, life improved. She even found love... until her sister stole her boyfriend.

Depression had followed. Then cancer.

And now this.

If only I’d known sooner, she thought bitterly. I’d have cut their chains years ago. vow burned in her chest: If I survive this, I’ll make them pay. Every last one of them.

Translation Notes: Cultural Nuances:

Liu Chunhua’s cruelty reflects traditional Chinese family hierarchies where eldest daughters are often exploited.

The "thousand-yuan bride price" highlights rural marriage customs, where women were historically treated as commodities. Literary Devices:

Flashbacks are woven organically into Jing Yanguo’s thoughts, mirroring her mental unraveling.

Symbolism: The apartment deed represents her stolen autonomy; the elevator shaft mirrors her descent into despair. Emotional Impact:

The dialogue balances raw anger ("You heartless wretch!") with tragic resignation ("I’d have cut their chains years ago"), making Jing Yanguo’s plight viscerally relatable. Pacing:

Short, punchy sentences during the confrontation ("Hand over the deed and crawl off to die!") heighten tension, while longer reflections ("Her life flashed before her...") deepen character development.

This translation preserves the original’s gritty realism while ensuring cultural authenticity and emotional resonance.