My first love's mother was a downright monster. I went to visit her during the New Year holiday, and she immediately acted like my mother-in-law, spending seven straight days teaching me the rules. On the first day, she dragged me out of bed at four in the morning and made me fetch water in the freezing snow. On the second, while everyone else feasted on rich food, she made me squat in the kitchen with her and choke down rock-hard steamed buns. On the third, she got every child in the family to demand an 888-yuan red envelope from me. My boyfriend refused to put up with it and insisted on taking me away, so she had him tied up and taken to a neighboring village. Then he vanished without a trace. By the end, she'd nearly ground me into the most hardworking, obedient new daughter-in-law in the whole village. I silently accepted this test of my submission. On the seventh day, my parents rushed over and rescued me. After that, terrified of marriage, I threw myself into work and eventually became the founder of a leading company. I never looked back on those days. Then, during interviews for a new class of interns, a young woman handed me her resume. I looked at her familiar face and smiled. “You know her?” the head of HR asked, winking at me. I raised an eyebrow. “Not exactly. I just can't forget her mother.”
