I was born in Korea, and Korean blood runs through my veins. When I was in sixth grade, my mother decided to send me to Korea.
I often couldn't understand what they were thinking. Why send me to unfamiliar China?
My grades weren't good, and I wasn't clever either. Mom said this was the only way I could take a shortcut and find a better life.
It wasn't until I got off the plane and stood in this unfamiliar city that I realized just how much my life had changed.
The Chinese I'd studied in Korea was practically useless. I couldn't piece together a complete sentence. I stayed with a grandmother, who taught me some basic Chinese and how to write. I don't want to look back on that painful time because there's no point. Back then, I was like a disabled person: I couldn't write, couldn't speak, and couldn't understand.
