In a world of bloodshed and violence, my mother, Huo Qingyu, was my only faith. I took bullets for her, helped her seize power, and fought at her side through blood and fire. She said, “Zhaoye, you’re Mom’s whole life!” Then a fire took my father and younger sister, and destroyed all the love she had for me. Convinced I was the one who caused it, she hated me to the bone. Chen Yu, whose face looked seventy percent like my father’s, became the tenderest substitute in her heart, and the sharpest blade pointed at me.
