That night, Li Xiao was in a bad mood. Unable to sleep, she surfed the internet until midnight to distract herself from her feelings.
Out of boredom, she clicked on a daily-life post by a blogger she liked. The top comment caught her eye: "I wish my mom had never married my dad. It wouldn't matter if I had never been born."
It had lots of likes and replies. It was a wish shared by many daughters.
Li Xiao stared at it for a long time, then liked it.
Before going to sleep, she pulled the diary from under her pillow and, by the light of her desk lamp, wrote a few brief lines to sum up the day. She had no mood to record it in greater detail.
"The umbilical cord connecting us is tightly bound in the dead knot of blood ties, like a white silk noose around the neck, burying a suicide called maternal love.
If I could, I would want my mother's life to be not a black mourning veil worn on her arm to grieve the self that marriage killed, but a skirt she had painted herself in brilliant colors."
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