Hu Li has seen four kinds of marriages in his life.
The first one belongs to her parents. My mother is like a spinning top that never stops, working hard to support a family, even holding the family's accounts in her hands. But what's the use of being able to do it again? In the dead of night, you will still hear those knife-like words - "If you can't give birth to a son, what kind of woman are you?"
The second one belongs to her sister. She was extremely poor when she got married, and her husband's family didn't look down upon her. But my sister's waist was forcibly raised with her belly - after giving birth to two sons, she spoke with confidence in this family.
The third type belongs to her colleague. The first time I was married to a stupid man, I didn't even bother to pour him hot water. Left. During my second marriage, I spent all my savings to do in vitro fertilization. I struggled so much that I didn't look like a human being or a ghost, just to prove that this time, I would finally be happy.
The fourth type is her own. She was once a bright-eyed girl, but now she lives like a puppet. The other end of the thread was tied to someone else's hand, tied to the marriage she thought she could entrust to her for life.
After seeing all kinds of things in the world, Hu Li finally wanted to understand one thing -
No matter who a woman marries in her life, it would be better to marry herself.
