She Said I Didn't Deserve to Call Her Mother
by Deng Deng
About This Novel
In the three years since I returned to my mother, I have suffered all the sufferings in this world. During these three years, I was imprisoned in a firewood shed, ate rotten rice, and wore rotten clothes. My stepfather, the Marquis of Zhenbei, hated my southern Xinjiang bloodline and wanted to kill him quickly. I didn't understand why my father loved my mother to the bone when he was alive, but she regarded me as a shame. "You have the blood of southern Xinjiang barbarians on your body, do you deserve to be called my mother?" The eldest princess tapped the handrail with her fingertips painted with khaodan, and every time she hit me, it was like tapping on my heart. "Take it off!" She pointed at the silver lock around my neck that my father left for me and said sharply. I instinctively protected it: "This is what my father gave me." "Pop!" Another slap in the face, "Don't tell me what I said a second time." I watched the silver lock melt in the fire, and the Nanjiang characters on it disappeared bit by bit. Tears blurred my vision, and it felt like a bloody gash had been torn open in my chest. It hurt so much that I couldn't breathe. They believe that the "bastards" in southern Xinjiang only deserve to be trampled and humiliated. Why?
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