My mother loves conducting "obedience tests." I told her I couldn't eat ginger, but she put ginger in every dish she cooked. "Who is allergic to ginger? I think you're just a picky eater!" On my eighteenth birthday, she even bought a thousand pounds of ginger, making a full ginger feast and ginger perfume. She looked at me smugly. "Ginger cures all diseases. I'm doing this for your own good!" "Not eating ginger is just you being spoiled. I specifically minced it this time; let's see how you pick it out!" My mother smiled happily because her test was successful. But she didn't know I wasn't lying to her. I am severely allergic to ginger. Once consumed or contacted in large amounts, the symptoms will gradually develop within two hours, potentially leading to death. ... I looked numbly at the full ginger feast in front of me: ginger stir-fried pork, ginger braised duck, shredded ginger with shredded potatoes... Even the dessert was ginger milk curd. Moreover, except for the shredded ginger with shredded potatoes, the ginger in all the other dishes was minced. I couldn't pick it out at all. I suddenly remembered that before my birthday, my mother had asked me gently what I wanted for my 18th birthday. I thought this was a rare moment of warmth after my parents' divorce. I repeatedly emphasized, "Just don't put ginger. I'm allergic to ginger." I didn't expect it to be another obedience test. I looked at the meals my mother "carefully" prepared, losing all appetite. The smell of ginger filled my nasal cavity, and a feeling of nausea rushed straight to my throat. I ran to the bathroom and vomited miserably. My mother, however, rushed to the bathroom angrily, grabbed my hair fiercely, and pulled me up. "Who allowed you to vomit? Every bite of food you eat is made by me spending time and money. What right do you have to ruin this body?" She dragged me back to the living room and picked up that bowl of ginger milk curd with a strong ginger smell. "Eat it!" I desperately shook my head to refuse. "I really am allergic. Mom, I'll listen to you on everything else, just don't force me to eat ginger..." My mother hesitated for a moment, put me down, and went into the kitchen with the bowl. I thought my mother believed me and just breathed a sigh of relief. But I saw her come out with a small bowl—that small bowl was full of minced ginger, this time without even milk! My mother looked at me, like looking at an ignorant child. "Don't be a picky eater. How could anyone be allergic to ginger?" "You just ate too little. Eat more and you'll like ginger." The spoon moved to my mouth. "Good child, take a bite. Ginger is good for the body." I clenched my teeth dead tight. "Eat! Chloe, eat!" The spoon poked my gums to mush. I wailed in pain and swallowed a mouthful of minced ginger. Blood oozed from my mouth, but it couldn't match half the pain in my heart. Since divorcing my dad, my mother fell in love with obedience tests. From what clothes to wear to which university to apply to, she demanded my obedience. As the tests deepened, the look in her eyes toward me grew colder day by day, not like looking at her own child, but like looking at a machine that would obey orders. I was choked by the minced ginger, tears and snot flowing. My mother, however, smiled with satisfaction. "Aren't you able to eat it? Sure enough, you act as well as your dad." I tried hard to suppress my emotions, but I still couldn't hold back and shed two streams of tears. Large drops of tears wet the back of my mother's hand. She froze for a moment, then flew into a rage, pinching my chin and roaring, "Didn't I tell you not to cry? This body was born and raised by me. Without my permission, you can't shed a single tear!" "As heartless as your deadbeat dad, an ungrateful wretch!" My mother looked at the minced ginger I knocked onto the floor during my struggle, her eyes full of heartache. She picked up her phone and took a few pictures with a "click click." At this time, my phone sounded a message notification. My mother took pictures of the almost untouched dishes on the table and the ginger milk curd in the trash can, and sent them to the family group chat. "Child's eighteenth birthday. I got up at five to make a table full of dishes for her, and she didn't eat a single bite. Made the dessert she clamored for, and she threw it all in the trash can. Sigh!" The relatives replying below were all scolding me for being an ungrateful wretch. After sending the message, my mother turned her head and looked at me coldly. "Don't think your wings are hard just because you're an adult. If you dare to defy me next time, I'll send it to your classmate group chat. You can't escape even when you work. I'll go to your company to make a scene and see if you can afford to lose this face!" Her voice was high-pitched and sharp; every word suffocated me. What was more suffocating than this was that my face grew hot, and my stomach started to ache sharply. My heart sank, knowing these were the symptoms of an allergy starting. While my mother was clearing the dishes, I hurriedly ran into the room to find allergy medicine. Fortunately, knowing that my mother loves conducting obedience tests, I always keep antihistamines prepared. But before I had time to take it, the bedroom door was pushed straight open. I hurriedly hid the medicine behind my back. My mother walked up to me, reached out, and touched my cheek. "Why is your face so hot?" She noticed my hands hidden behind my back and frowned. "What are you hiding? Take it out!" I explained tremblingly, "It's allergy medicine. I told you I'm allergic to ginger, Mom." My mother, however, snatched the allergy medicine from my hand and roared, "Do you eat it just because I allowed you to?" I scratched the new red rash on my arm, realizing the allergic symptoms had worsened again. I was running out of time. I bitterly begged my mother to give me the medicine. She instead took out a bottle of homemade ginger perfume and sprayed it wildly at me. "Ginger water removes cold. You just have a weak constitution and caught a cold." "Still claiming a ginger allergy. I sprayed so much ginger water, and you didn't die, did you?" Ignoring my pleas, my mother carried the sprayer and started spraying ginger perfume all over the house. "Stop pretending. I invited your classmates to celebrate your birthday. They'll be here right away." "Spray some perfume so you don't pass the sickness to your classmates!" The whole house smelled of ginger. Dense red rashes broke out on my arms, thighs, and neck. I wanted to go out for some fresh air, but my mother forcefully kept me at home, euphemistically calling it, "You won't feel uncomfortable after getting used to it." I knew a new round of obedience testing had begun. I couldn't stop my mother. I could only dial 911, wrap myself tightly, and hope to hold on until the ambulance arrived. Soon, the classmates arrived. Seeing Sarah and her clique, I subconsciously trembled. Aren't these the people who bullied me? They tore my books, put dead mice in my desk, and falsely accused me of cheating on an exam out of jealousy. When the former mother found out, she didn't say a word, took a kitchen knife to the school, and forced them to apologize to me. But now, how could my mother invite them to attend my birthday party? Sarah stepped forward and smilingly took my hand. "Happy birthday, Chloe." Then she leaned close to my ear and whispered, "Bitch, let's see how I deal with you." "Ah!" Before I could react, Sarah fell to the ground. With tears in her eyes, she aggrievedly accused, "Chloe, I came to celebrate your birthday, why did you push me." "Are you still holding a grudge against me because I reported you for cheating?" I helplessly wanted to explain, but before I could finish, my mother slapped me silly. She looked at my tightly wrapped outfit with disgust. "If you can lie about an allergy, you definitely cheated on the exam." Then she looked at Sarah affectionately. "Sarah, Auntie wrongly blamed you before. My daughter cheated on the exam. Auntie apologizes to you." But Mom, wasn't it you who shielded me behind you and said you would always believe me back then? After going home, I had psychological trauma because of this bullying incident. Wasn't it you who held me and coaxed me all night? The person who once said she believed me and protected me, how come now, she hurts me together with my enemies? Tears welled up in my sour and astringent eyes, and I tried hard to hold them back. The next second, my mother grabbed my collar, her tone disgusted. "Cry, cry, cry. How do you have the nerve? Apologize to Sarah immediately!" The allergy symptoms became more severe. The red rash spread to my chest. I couldn't tell for a moment whether the suffocation was brought by the allergy, or if my mother's words suffocated me more. I endured the pain and tried to explain, "I didn't cheat. They cut my clothes and locked me in the bathroom..." My mother coldly cut off my words. "Why do they only bully you and not others?" She stripped off my clothes. My arms were exposed to the air, showing an abnormal red color. "Flies don't bite seamless eggs. Look at how slutty you are; the curves of your body are outlined. Sarah taught my daughter a lesson for me; I should thank her." I couldn't believe these were words spoken by a mother. I interrupted her, devastated. "Mom!" My mother looked at my tears unmoved, instead pressing down on my shoulders. "Don't pretend to be pitiful. Have you forgotten how Mom taught you? Be brave to admit your mistakes!" "You made Sarah suffer so much grievance for nothing. Now, kneel down and kowtow! Apologize to her!" I couldn't believe what I heard—a mother making her daughter kowtow and apologize to her bully! But I didn't have time to be angry. The allergy symptoms further deteriorated: Abdominal pain intensified, large patches of red rashes itched, and I started to have trouble breathing. I gasped heavily and begged my mother, "Give me the medicine. I feel so uncomfortable..." My mother still didn't believe I was allergic to ginger. She shook the medicine, looking at me with a sneer. "Still pretending? I want to see how long you can keep up this act." "Kneel down and kowtow three times to Sarah, and I'll give you the medicine." I knew my mother was conducting an obedience test again. Apologizing to the bully was to make me yield mentally. I lost my strength in despair. Pressed down by my mother's hands on my shoulders, just as I was about to kneel to the bully in front of the whole class. A gentle voice rang out. "Auntie, what you are doing is wrong." I looked back; it was the class president, Ethan. When I was bullied and isolated by classmates, only Ethan was willing to talk to me. He was a beam of light in my dark high school life, and also a person I genuinely appreciated and respected. Ethan helped me up, shielded me behind him, and looked straight at my mother. "Auntie, during the exam, I sat right behind Chloe. I can testify that she is innocent and didn't cheat!" I felt unprecedented warmth. When even my own mother didn't believe me, there was actually a person willing to stand up and support me. But at this time, my mother screamed and scratched at Ethan. "Why weren't you looking at your exam paper during the test? What were you doing staring at my daughter?" "Chloe, you cheap tramp, wanting to seduce men right after coming of age?" "I was wondering why you spread your legs so wide when eating. It turns out you want to make money by serving men!" The boys' eyes lingered on my legs, with playful smiles on their faces, discussing in low voices whether I was a virgin. What was even more excessive was that even Ethan, who kindly helped me, was misinterpreted. I felt ashamed, angry, and blamed myself, stammering to explain, "We are innocent." But under my mother's verbal abuse, no one believed me. Ethan, however, smiled and comforted me. "It's okay, Chloe. The innocent are clear. They are ignorant. I won't blame you." I wanted to smile at him gratefully. But I had no extra strength left. It felt like cotton was blocking my throat, my hands and feet were ice cold, and my consciousness began to blur. Not knowing if I could still wait for the ambulance, I grabbed my mother's pant leg and begged incoherently, "Medicine... medicine..."
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