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On Mother's Day, my son's excellent essay "My Good Mother" became a model essay for the whole school. Not to mention his mother-in-law, she was so happy that she hugged him and kissed him non-stop. "My precious grandson will definitely be a great writer in the future!" Her next words made me unable to laugh. "When you grow up, you will be much more promising than your pig-butcher mother!" Yes, I am a pig-killer. I get up at three o'clock in the morning every day and go to the market stall to sell pork. My whole body smells of lard. But the mother in her son's composition is a beautiful and elegant pianist. I almost lost my grip on the kitchen knife and was very puzzled. "Why did you write a fake mother?" My son looked embarrassed and hesitant, not daring to look at me. "No!"

My husband thought that I was unemployed and couldn't make any money, so he sold my 985 daughter to a cripple. I clapped my hands and said, "The child is not yours anyway."