In the 1980s, my brother went to someone else's field and picked up a large bundle of moldy red sugar cane. My mother boiled it into a bowl of sugar water for each person. I said it was poisonous and poured out the whole pot. My mother slapped me to the ground and scolded me for wasting a good thing. My brother beat me to death and sold me to someone else for a secret marriage. They used my money from the secret marriage to buy my brother a big gold chain. When I opened my eyes again, I returned to the moment when the sugar water was served on the table. This time I did not pour the pot of sugar water, but silently watched my mother add bowl after bowl to my brother.
