In 1977, when I came into this world, the first breath I took was not air, but the cold, dirty water in a cow trough. Just because I am a girl, my grandmother wants to drown me alive.
I was thrown into a barren mountain, picked up by wolves, and picked up by kindhearted people, thinking I finally had a home. But the warmth was short-lived. My adoptive grandfather died tragically, and I became the scapegoat for "restraining relatives." I was locked up in the woodshed at the age of four, and my hands were covered with chilblains. Beatings were commonplace.
Everyone says my fate is bad, but I don't believe in fate.
From an abandoned orphan girl, to a "slugger" who relies on others, to a struggler who earns a living with his own hands. I have endured the most hardships and seen the warmest hearts. Carrying my grandfather's dying instructions and carrying the only token on my body - a copper coin birthmark, I set foot on the road home.
I just want to ask, Mom, why didn't you protect me back then? But when I stood at the door of my house, what I saw was...
Reader comments
The more you listen, the more addictive you become. Will keep listening.
Clear and reasonable structure
The suffering of ordinary people makes people cry and they feel the same way
The more you listen, the more addictive you become. Will keep listening.
Clear and reasonable structure
The suffering of ordinary people makes people cry and they feel the same way
Rich content and endless aftertaste after viewing
Worth promoting, thank you.