Liang Sheng hated hearing words like that. She wanted to flare up—but fear held her back, and honestly, she had no strength left. Limp on the hospital bed, she softly murmured, “It won’t happen again.”

Zhao Xin was stunned. Making this stubborn girl change her mind was never easy.

A smile spread across her aged face as she patted Liang Sheng’s head. “I knew you were sensible. Mom’s sacrificed so much for you—poured money into your future. Your father? Hmph. He abandoned you long ago. Just listen to Mom. Everything I do is for your own good.”

Too weak to argue, Liang Sheng nodded and forced a smile more pained than joyful. “Mom… please leave. I need to be alone.”

Zhao Xin’s smile vanished. Her expression turned sharp, voice cold. “What’s wrong with your mom staying awhile? Planning something again?”

A storm of emotions swirled inside Liang Sheng: anger with no strength to show it; sorrow with no tears; melancholy without cause; a dull ache she couldn’t name. She felt herself unraveling—drowning in her own feelings.

“You’re silent? Guilty, huh?” Zhao Xin pressed.

“I’m telling you—no illness means back to school! Stop stirring trouble!” she snapped.

“Mom!” Liang Sheng’s voice cracked, sudden and shrill. “Get out!”

Zhao Xin’s eyes widened. “Ungrateful child! Burden! Dead weight! Think my life’s this hard for fun? And now you dare talk back? Think I won’t beat you senseless?!”

She clung to that foolish old saying: *Spare the rod, spoil the child.* When Liang Sheng was six, after nearly falling from the third floor (only spraining her ankle), Zhao Xin—shaken yet furious—beat her until bruises bloomed across her small body. The girl refused to apologize. At eight, after spilling soy milk, Zhao Xin demanded she kneel. “A daughter’s knees are made of gold!” Liang Sheng declared. Enraged, Zhao Xin shoved her down, smothered her face with a sofa cushion—once, twice, again—until Liang Sheng, trembling and sobbing, finally collapsed to her knees. Only then did Zhao Xin smile.

Years passed like this. Even at university, Zhao Xin followed her daughter to campus, “caring” for her every move. No freedom. No late returns. No unapproved friends. No junk food. Just exhaustion.

Back in the present, Zhao Xin stood hands on hips beside the bed, shouting—ignoring hospital quiet rules.

“Mom…” Liang Sheng’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Can’t you… just let me be?”

“I’m your mother! Who else would care? Hah—like anyone *wants* to!”

Those words stung. At home and school, Liang Sheng played the polite, clever girl everyone praised. But the moment she turned away from elders or peers she disliked, her smile vanished—replaced by ice or quiet disgust. *“Be likable,”* her mother taught. *“Or no one will help you later.”* *“Better face society’s coldness young.”*

“Mom,” Liang Sheng smiled faintly. “Aren’t you afraid… I’ll snap? And end it all?”

“You dare threaten me?!” Zhao Xin shrieked. “Go ahead! Prove you’ve got the guts!”

“OUT!” Liang Sheng screamed.

“OUT! OUT! OUT!” she shrieked again, voice raw.

Nurses, doctors, patients gathered. Zhao Xin rolled up her sleeves. Liang Sheng shrank back, curling into a trembling ball beneath the sheets.

A male doctor with gold-rimmed glasses stepped between them, calm but firm. “Ma’am, please. This is a hospital.”

Zhao Xin lowered her arm with a huff and stormed off.

Under the blanket, Liang Sheng wept softly. *If only they were still here…*

In middle school, she’d met them—led by Brother Ming. She told them everything. Only them. They were easygoing, kindred spirits. She buried her pain that year, determined to bring them joy. But masks, once worn, stick. She wore one for the world… and another even among them.

She adored the girls there—bright, lively, real. Unlike her: quiet, fake. There was Qingqing, a loli so sweet and loved—Liang Sheng ached with envy. Xiao Yan, bold enough to curse anyone who crossed him. She longed for that freedom. But she couldn’t. Society’s label weighed heavy: *If he were a girl? They’d tear her apart. Girls aren’t allowed to live like that.* And the gentle older sister with flowing hair who loved Hanfu—the kindest soul among them.