Chapter 4The Price of a Daughter

First, on my sister's first day of preschool, the teacher taught counting.

After only three times, my sister could count from one to a hundred.

The substitute teacher, who was from our community, praised her to my mom: "Your Chloe is much smarter than Lily."

Second, an older relative in our extended family was diagnosed with stomach cancer.

Back then, there was no good medical insurance. For people in rural areas, getting cancer was basically a death sentence.

However, unexpectedly, his daughter, who had gone to community college and was working in the city, took him to the hospital.

They removed half his stomach. He survived, and even chatted eloquently with people in the community about interesting things during his hospital stay in the city.

That day, returning from that relative's house, my mom grabbed my dad, who was about to go play poker:

"David, Chloe is so smart. If we just cultivate her well, she won't be worse than a son!"

With conviction, my parents were revitalized.

At heart, they treated me and my sister the same.

But from that day on, my sister received more favoritism.

If there was only one drumstick, it definitely belonged to her.

If she didn't want to eat breakfast at home, my mom would give her fifty cents to buy a muffin.

I only got that kind of treatment when I was sick.

Every Christmas, my sister would definitely get a new outfit.

While I always wore the hand-me-downs my two aunts brought back from the city.

During the busy harvest seasons, my sister didn't have to go to the fields.

My mom said: "Your hands are for writing. These chores aren't for you."

"Chloe, you must study hard and bring honor to our family."

My sister was indeed very smart. She was always first in her class and got certificates every semester.

The certificates back then held much more weight than they do now.

I have to say, studying relies heavily on natural talent.

I had to work several times harder than my sister.

I went to bed at eleven and woke up at five every day.

On the way riding my bike to school, I would memorize ten vocabulary words.

On weekends, I went to the mountains to cut bamboo, pick mushrooms, and gather wild berries. I saved the money from selling them to buy extra workbooks.

Back then, the school had row latrines. Once, I took a math test paper while squatting in the toilet. By the time I solved the problem, my legs were numb, and I almost stepped into the pile of waste.

I always adhered to the idea that "the clumsy bird catches the worm by starting early," but the results were not obvious.

Although I didn't want to admit it, I was just an ordinary person in the crowd.

The background extra in a TV show, the passerby A in a novel, the "who was that again" at a class reunion.

My mom kept nagging in my ear: "Lily, you're the older sister. You must protect your sister, support your sister."

You don't need to repeatedly remind me, Mom.

From the moment my sister was born, I have been protecting her.

Soon a few years passed, and I took the high school entrance exams.

The scores hadn't come out yet when my friend Sarah from the community invited me to work in a factory in the city.

Her face was full of longing: "In the factory, you can earn eight hundred a month!"

"I could buy pretty dresses, and I want to get my hair permed."

The midsummer heat was brutal. My aunt sat under the big maple tree fanning herself and said to my mom: "Lily can go make money to pay for Chloe's tuition. You two will have it much easier."

My mom smiled: "Yes, it all depends on Chloe now."

I stalled as long as I could, finally reaching the day the scores were released.

It was a scorching summer, but my hands and feet were as cold as ice.

Even though I had given it my all, I was still nine points short of the cutoff for the top high school.

Just nine points...

If I had worked a little harder, if I had done a few more practice tests, if I had carefully checked every exam...

Would my life have been different?

The admission letter for a vocational high school was sent home.

That night, under the dim yellow light, my mom sighed looking at the letter: "Lily, hardly anyone from this vocational school gets into a good college each year."

"Chloe is in fifth grade this year. Your dad and I want to send her to the middle school in town next year, but that's a big expense..."

"If both of you study together, your dad and I... sigh..."

The incandescent bulb had a bad connection, making a "sizzle sizzle" sound, like a saw repeatedly cutting the bottom of my heart.

My parents looked at me silently, waiting for me to say: "Never mind, I won't go."