I was Lin Panpan's big sister for eighteen whole years.
The year Mom died, she was ten. I dropped out of school and went to work at a construction site to put her through college. For those four years, I kept just 150 yuan for myself each month and sent the rest home. She posted selfies in new dresses on her social media, while the soles of my shoes split and I had to hold them together with wire.
Then the Civil Affairs Bureau called: "Your younger sister used the bank card linked to your family's subsistence allowance account to spend 1,800 yuan on concert tickets. Your family's allowance has been suspended."
I called to ask her about it. She said, "Are poor people supposed to stay poor forever? What's wrong with me following my favorite star?"
Later, I found a diary hidden under her pillow. It said: "Why won't Lin Zhaodi just die already? If she dies, the subsistence allowance will be mine."
I didn't cry. I just went to the bank and printed out every remittance receipt from the past four years. She didn't know that I'd been wearing shoes with the soles held together by wire. She didn't know that I kept just 150 yuan for myself each month, either.
But it doesn't matter. She'll find out.
