The Three Hundredth IOU

From the time I was ten until I turned eighteen, my parents made me write 299 IOUs.

Every bit of money I asked them for had to be treated as a loan, which I would repay once I was an adult.

Then I got into a car accident and needed surgery, but my bank card was still 3,000 short.

With nowhere else to turn, I had no choice but to beg my parents.

They only gave me a cold smile. “Qin Chu, you’re already eighteen. We’re no longer obligated to give you money! Write another IOU!”

With tears in my eyes, I wrote the 300th IOU.

After the operation, I came across a post on my adopted sister’s social media.

In the photo, she was celebrating her eighteenth birthday aboard a cruise ship overseas, surrounded by admirers like a little princess.

My parents’ gifts to her were a luxury apartment in the center of Shanghai and the keys to a Maserati.

Even my childhood sweetheart looked at her with love in his eyes.

She said she was grateful to the people she loved most for giving her everything.

I looked down at the IOU crumpled in my hand and suddenly laughed.

Once I’ve paid off my debt, I won’t need a family like this anymore.