It Turns Out That I Am Disliked by Thousands of People

[First person + bedtime story + abuse article] I was a "young master" who was brought from the slums to a rich family, but I was never treated as a family member. My existence, to them, is just a shame, a mistake that should not be mentioned. In this splendid home, I was like a stray cat that strayed into a mansion, out of place and much disliked. My father brought me back, perhaps just to make up for the guilt in his heart; my elder brother and younger brother regarded me as a thorn in their side, laughed at me, humiliated me, and even beat me; the servants looked at me coldly, as if even my breathing was an offense. I tried to integrate into this family, but every time I tried, I was ruthlessly beaten back to my original shape. In school, I became the object of ridicule. My origin, my clothes, and my every move have all become a joke for them after dinner. I huddled in the corner, trying to make myself transparent, but those harsh laughter followed me like a shadow and couldn't go away. My body was already weak, and every beating and humiliation made me even worse. But compared to the physical pain, the despair in my heart was even more unbearable. I gradually understood that no matter how hard I struggled, I could not change my destiny. In the end, I was like a withered leaf, quietly withering in this indifferent world. No one remembers me and no one sheds tears for me. I am just a poor person who was tricked by fate. I was disliked by thousands of people when I was born, and no one cares about me after I die.