Since I can remember, I knew my family was poor. So when I suspected I had a serious illness, my first reaction wasn't fear, but asking my parents carefully: "If... I got cancer, what would we do?" They laughed at my overthinking, but their tone was firm: "If that day comes, we'll sell everything we own to treat you." I tossed and turned all night, finally deciding—I couldn't be a burden to them. But after I swallowed a whole bottle of sleeping pills, I "saw" them laughing and chatting in a penthouse in the city center. At that moment, I finally understood. The "hard life" that forced me to be sensible all these years was just a play they carefully choreographed. They were just pretending to be poor. And I... was really dead. Chapter 1 During recess, my nose started bleeding suddenly. I used up half a pack of tissues to stop it. My desk mate Hannah looked at my pale face and whispered: "My neighbor's brother was like this. Later he was diagnosed with leukemia... His family spent all their money, but he still didn't make it..." I smiled and called her a jinx, but my heart sank. Lately, I've had no energy. Running two steps in PE class makes me pant. Bruises appear on my knees for no reason and won't fade. I tried hard to tell myself not to overthink, not to worry my parents for nothing, but the panic in my heart grew wild. What if... what if it's true? I secretly went to the community clinic for a blood test. The doctor looked grave after seeing the results. He said he couldn't rule out malignant blood disease and urged me to go to a big hospital for a full checkup ASAP. My heart hit rock bottom instantly. Clutching the light lab report, my steps were unsteady. I don't even know how I dragged myself home. Mom was busy in the kitchen, wearing a faded apron. Hearing the door, she called out: "Wash your hands quickly. I made your favorite Mac and Cheese tonight." I hurriedly crumpled the report and stuffed it deep into my backpack. A while later, Dad came back too. He looked exhausted, took off his jacket with frayed cuffs, threw it on the chair back, and let out a long sigh. Mom served the food. A plate of boiled cabbage, a bowl of watery soup, and a small plate of scrambled eggs in the middle—a rare treat. Dad ate fast and urgently, like he was starving. Mom ate while complaining that the price of pork went up again. I took small bites, tasting nothing. The doctor's words echoed in my head, lingering. "Dad, Mom..." I called them softly, putting down my fork. They both looked up. "If... if I got a very serious illness," I stared at the table, daring not to look into their eyes, "Like cancer... what would we do?" The table went silent instantly. Dad's hand holding the fork stopped in mid-air. Mom's spoon hit the bowl with a clink. "What nonsense!" Mom reacted first, frowning tight, "Kids shouldn't say such unlucky things!" "I mean if... just in case?" I persisted, my eyes getting hot. Dad put down his fork, his rough hand rubbing my hair. "Luna, don't overthink. Your job now is to study hard. If that day really comes..." He paused, "Don't worry, Dad will sell everything, mortgage the house, to treat you." Mom nodded quickly: "Yes, even if we go bankrupt! Eat now, food's getting cold." After they finished, it seemed the topic was over. Dad buried his head in eating. Mom put a piece of egg in my bowl: "Eat more, you're growing." I listened to them, looking at their faded old clothes and the simple meal. "Sell everything..." "Go bankrupt..." I slowly picked up my fork, lowered my head, burying my face in the bowl. Tears fell suddenly, dropping into the rice. I shoveled a big mouthful of food, swallowing it with my tears. Chapter 2 Since I can remember, I knew my family was poor. We lived in a dilapidated apartment complex. The paint peeled off the walls. When it rained, water seeped into the corners, growing fuzzy mold. There wasn't a single new piece of clothing in my closet. All hand-me-downs from my sister, Stella. Cuffs worn shiny, colors washed white. Mom said they were still good, couldn't waste. She always patted my head and sighed: "Your dad and I work double shifts every day. Every penny is hard-earned. So you have to be more sensible than others, understand?" Dad also looked at me seriously: "You have to be successful, study hard, to be worthy of our sacrifice." I clutched the frayed hem of my shirt and nodded hard. Life went on tight like this. I had no allowance. Classmates bought snacks, stickers, colorful pens. I just watched. When they talked about eating pizza or going to Disneyland on weekends, I couldn't join in, so I just lowered my head, silent. When hungry, I drank hot water. My stomach felt heavy and warm, not so empty anymore. If I felt unwell, I never said anything, just endured. Last winter I coughed for a whole month. Afraid of waking my parents at night, I covered my mouth and coughed until tears came out. The next day I went to school as usual. Mom and Dad always praised me: "Our Luna is the most sensible girl." Hearing this, I didn't know how to feel. Actually, I wanted to tell them something. That my throat itched terribly. That the old backpack from Stella was worn out, straps about to break. That I also wanted a small slice of cream cake on my birthday. But I was afraid. Afraid that if I asked for money, Mom and Dad would be more tired. I was afraid of seeing their troubled eyes, afraid of hearing their sighs, afraid my small wish would be the straw that broke the camel's back. At night, I lay in bed, tossing and turning. In the dark, eyes open, the doctor's grave face and my parents' words about "selling everything" and "going bankrupt" spiraled in my mind. By dawn, I made up my mind. If treating me would drag this family down completely, push them to a dead end, I'd rather... rather disappear. Outside, sounds of movement. Mom and Dad got up. A while later, Mom gently pushed the door: "Luna, Dad and I are going to work. Breakfast is warm in the pot. Eat before school." I lay in bed, hummed a low "Mmhmm," eyes shut tight, daring not to look at her. The door closed gently. Footsteps faded. The room was scary quiet, only my heartbeat. I sat up slowly, took paper and pen from my bag, and wrote a letter to Mom and Dad, stroke by stroke. Folded it carefully and put it under my pillow. I walked to the old cabinet, squatted, and pulled the bottom drawer. Messy inside. I rummaged for a while before finding the yellowed pill bottle. I remembered when I was little, Mom took these for insomnia. She hid the bottle specifically, patting my head and warning: "Luna, kids can't touch this. If you eat it... you will leave Mom and Dad forever." I always remembered that. Now I'm grown up. I know "leave forever" means death. If I die, they will be free. I went to the kitchen for a glass of water, then sat back on the bed. Unscrewed the cap, poured all the white pills into my hand. Looking at the tiny pills, my parents' smiling faces suddenly appeared. Nose sour, tears fell pat pat on my hand. I was suddenly scared, and reluctant. But the smiles faded quickly, replaced by their exhausted faces from daily toil. I closed my eyes, telling myself— Don't be selfish. Leaving is the last act of sensibility I can give them. I took a deep breath, stuffed all the pills into my mouth, and swallowed them with cold water. A bit bitter, but soon I felt nothing. Put the empty bottle by the pillow, lay down, and covered myself. The heavy feeling in my heart seemed to vanish suddenly. Outside, light grew brighter. Birds started singing. I closed my eyes, feeling so tired. Just wanted a good sleep. Chapter 3 After a while, I seemed to "wake up" again, body light as a feather. Looking down, another me was still lying quietly on the bed, face calm as if sleeping. Am I... already dead? But where to go next? I didn't know. I suddenly thought of my sister, Stella. Last time I saw her was Christmas. She stayed for only three days and left in a hurry. Yesterday I called her. Before I could say much, noise came from her end. She hung up before I could finish. Before leaving, I wanted to see her again. Thought flashed, vision blurred. I was standing outside a bright cafe. Through the floor-to-ceiling window, I saw Stella laughing with friends. She wore a beautiful floral dress, hair perfectly done, a delicate cake in front of her. My gaze fell on the brand-new designer bag beside her. I've seen this brand in the mall, secretly counted the zeros on the price tag. But how could Stella... I leaned closer to look. Her phone rang, startling me. She walked to a quiet corner to answer. I followed. "Mom?" Her voice was light. "Why call now?" Mom's clear voice came through: "Has your sister contacted you lately? I feel she's acting weird these two days..." "Oh, she called yesterday." Stella's tone was casual. "Said she wanted to buy textbooks, asked to borrow a hundred bucks." "Buy textbooks?" Mom's voice spiked, full of undisguised dissatisfaction, "Can't she tell us if she needs books? That child... don't know what schemes she's plotting." I lowered my eyes instinctively, heart feeling sour. Actually... I lied to Stella because I couldn't afford the hospital checkup fee. "Relax, I didn't give it to her." Stella smiled slyly. "I pretended to be busy and hung up. Let her ask you guys." "Smart girl!" Mom's tone became serious, warning, "Remember, never give her money privately. If I find out, forget about your allowance! But speaking of which, you're working now, should learn to be independent..." "Oh Mom—" Stella dragged her voice, spoiling, "I won't give it. My salary barely covers rent, how can I shop without family subsidy..." "Okay okay." Mom sighed helplessly, softening, "Anyway, be sharp in front of your sister. Don't slip up. She's sensitive. If she finds out, it'll be big trouble." "Got it, thanks Mom!" Stella hung up beaming, returned to her friends, chatting about the weekend concert. My mind was a mess. They were hiding something from me. Thought flashed, scene changed abruptly. A spacious living room, blindingly bright. Polished floors reflecting the crystal chandelier, a huge window overlooking the city skyline. Where is this? How am I here? I looked around blankly. A woman was lying comfortably in a massage chair, playing with the latest foldable phone. A man walked over with two glasses of fresh juice, wearing comfortable loungewear. I stared at their faces, brain buzzing—aren't these my parents? Shouldn't they be guarding the food stand at the market right now? "We spoiled Stella since she was little, she never focuses on the right path. Now Luna is learning bad habits too..." Mom frowned complaining, "She called her sister for money, saying she needs textbooks. Didn't dare tell us, must be lying!" Dad put down the juice, comforting: "Luna is sensible enough. Maybe she really wants something. A little white lie is fine. Under our noses, nothing big can happen." "True," Mom hammered her shoulder, "Just tired of living in that dump to act out this play. Uncomfortable all over..." "Endure a bit more for Luna's future." Dad massaged her shoulders, tone soft, "When she gets into a good college, we'll tell her the truth. She'll be thrilled." Mom sighed heavily: "Hope so... As long as she doesn't waste our efforts, my suffering is worth it..." "Hard work for wifey! I'll cook your favorites later to reward you." Dad handed the juice, both smiling eyes curved. These words drilled into my ears, weird and indigestible. After a long time, I realized. So, they were pretending to be poor. But I... was really dead... Chapter 4 I floated in the center of the luxurious living room, staring at them blankly. My heart felt like it was being gently squeezed, a dull ache. So the exhaustion from early mornings and late nights, the bitterness of struggling for a living, were all just a play they put on. And all the hardships I suffered growing up were just their calculation "for my own good." In a trance, I remembered finding a designer belt under Dad's bed. He snatched it back, saying it was a fake from a street stall. Remembered the high-end face cream behind Mom's mirror. She said it was a sample from a friend, worthless. Remembered the large window flashing behind Stella during video calls. I asked if she moved to a big house, she laughed and interrupted, saying it was a colleague's place. Turns out those moments that felt off were clues to this scam. In this family, only I was like a fool, kept in the dark, guarding the fake poverty they created, living carefully. The sadness surged like a tide, then slowly receded. Whatever. Leukemia is a tough disease. Maybe even spending all the family's money wouldn't save me. By then, they might really be forced into that precarious, poor life. At least now, they don't have to really get up early and stay up late at the stand, don't have to haggle over pennies. They live so decently and comfortably, not hard at all. I have nothing to worry about. Thinking this way, I felt much more at ease. Curious, I started floating around this bright big house. Soft carpets, huge balcony, all kinds of high-end appliances, things I only saw on TV. I floated into a room. The vanity was full of bottles, closet door half open, filled with beautiful clothes. I recognized it instantly. This was Stella's room, the place often in her videos. Then, I found another room. Walls painted pale pink. White curtains with lace edges. Bed covered in floral sheets. On the nightstand, a photo frame. Inside was me, about seven or eight, wearing the red plaid coat handed down from Stella, smiling shyly at the camera. This room... was prepared for me. My heart felt warmed by something gentle. I lay on that floral bed. Though I couldn't feel the softness, I imagined if I could sleep here, it would be as comfortable as lying on clouds. Sunlight shone in, warming the whole pink room. I lay there, watching, feeling sad again. I knew, this perfect room prepared for me, I would never move into. Time passed. Suddenly, a phone rang in the room. Mom's old phone. I floated over to look. The screen flashed with Teacher Wang's name. Mom took a deep breath, answered, voice instantly switching to that familiar tired tone: "Hello, Teacher Wang? Yeah, busy at the stand. What's up?" Teacher Wang's anxious voice came through: "Luna's Mom, I called several times! Finally picked up!" "Oh, so sorry," Mom's voice lowered, apologetic, "This broken phone always dies. Just turned on. Is something wrong at school?" "Luna didn't come to school today. Didn't ask for leave. Is she home? Is she sick?" Mom's hand gripping the phone tightened. Surprise flashed on her face, voice rising: "What? Luna didn't go to school?"
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