Huo Duoduo was wiping the 37th shelf in the convenience store when the collector's roar rang out from the other end of the phone. She opened her phone with trembling fingers and dug out the text message "Successfully borrowed 58,000 yuan" that her husband had deliberately deleted in the recycle bin. This number has been burned into her life like a soldering iron - from her grandmother's sigh of "another loser" when she was born, to every New Year's Eve when her parents put all the chicken legs into her brother's bowl; from the years when she was defrauded of half a year's salary by an agency, to her husband Zhao Ming's online loan of more than 200,000 yuan using her ID card.
"Who would want a woman like you but me?" Zhao Ming pinched her chin so hard that the repayment reminder message always came at the same time. The prints of her mother-in-law's slippers were still left on the floor she had just mopped: "How dare you eat ribs after giving birth to a girl?" It wasn't until the collector came to the door with a contract full of her fingerprints that Huo Duoduo realized that this marriage had been a carefully designed slaughterhouse from the beginning.
The night she fled with her daughter with a high fever, she only had 326 yuan and a bottle of antidepressants in her pocket - it turned out that her husband had long replaced her medicines with vitamins. In the cockroach-infested rental house, her daughter wiped away her tears with her hot hands: "Mom, if you don't cry, I'll sell the bear to help you pay back the money." From then on, she hung three work badges around her neck: a convenience store clerk in the early morning, a driver at midnight, and a handmade beadworker in the early morning. When the judge frowned at Zhao Ming's forged IOU, and when her daughter hid the antipyretic medicine she was reluctant to take under her pillow, this woman who had been let down by the whole world finally learned to smash her fist at the door of fate.
