Reborn and Refusing to Raise Ungrateful Nieces

I died at the age of fifty-five, from late-stage breast cancer, lying alone in a hospital room. My three nieces, whom I treated like my own children, coldly told me, "You're not our biological mother; we have no obligation to care whether you live or die." When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day my sister entrusted her children to me on her deathbed. On the hospital bed, my sister held my hand tightly, while my three young nieces stood timidly beside me: "Xiao Shu... We're entrusting them to you..." Looking into my sister's pleading eyes, I slowly withdrew my hand: "I'm sorry, sister, in this life, I want to live for myself." I opened my eyes, the smell of disinfectant piercing my nostrils.