Her mother died of illness, and the sweet and sour crispy fish became her only warmth. Her father remarried, and her sister catered to her stepmother. She lost trust in family ties, and was betrayed by a scumbag when she went abroad to study.
That summer, 13-year-old Wen Xiangying clutched her mother's hand and burst into tears on the hospital bed.
In my ear was my mother's weak voice: "Don't cry, Xiangying. Dad will take you to see the cherry blossoms... Be good... Help mommy guard the hotel... Ok?"
Wen Xiangying couldn't bear it anymore: "I don't want a hotel! I want my mother! I want my mother!"
But the sound never came again.
That plate of sweet and sour crispy fish no longer tastes familiar.
An imaginary world.
Intention: Stick to yourself in the cracks of fate
