After my father went to prison for embezzling company funds, my mother, a university professor, loved to use me to "prove her integrity" to avoid suspicion. To avoid suspicion, she forced me to hand over the guaranteed graduate school admission spot that belonged to me to the student ranked second in the department. When I participated in an academic competition, just because the judge was an old classmate of hers, she stormed into the venue and forcibly dragged me out to withdraw. Now, with the class fund missing, she acted as if she had caught me red-handed, stripping off my jacket in public to search me. Trembling all over, amidst the mocking gazes of the whole class, I heard her self-righteous voice: "Precisely because she is my daughter, I must not cover for her! Who knows if she learned from her father who's in prison?" "Take off your clothes! Let everyone see if you are clean!" At that moment, looking at her face full of a sense of justice, I gave up resisting. Mom, since you want to "avoid suspicion," then this time, I will grant your wish... My jacket was roughly torn off by her, and I stood in the center of the lecture hall podium wearing only a thin shirt. My mom shook my jacket over and over again, even reaching into the sleeves to feel around. There was nothing. Just then, a boy in the front row bent down and yelled. "Professor, the money is here! It's in the crack of the podium, looks like it was blown in by the wind." He held up the envelope containing the class fund. The whole class was in an uproar. I looked at my mom. She didn't have the slightest sense of guilt, but instead let out a long sigh as if relieved of a heavy burden. Then she threw the jacket back at me in front of the whole class. "Good! As long as you didn't steal it!" "It seems my strict discipline has worked, you didn't follow your father's old path." "What are you standing there for? Why don't you bow to everyone?" I froze in place, asking in disbelief. "Bow?" She said matter-of-factly, "Yes! Thank the classmates for their supervision, thank everyone for helping you prove your innocence!" "Lily, remember this, precisely because the blood of a criminal flows in your veins, we must be more open and aboveboard than others, more able to withstand scrutiny!" Under her forcing gaze, amidst the strange looks of the whole class. I mechanically bent down and took a bow. At that moment, my dignity was shattered to pieces. After returning home, I collapsed. A high fever came fiercely, my whole body burning like fire. In a daze, I heard my mom talking on the phone in the living room. Her tone was impassioned, showing off. "Mom, you don't know how scary the scene was today." "At that time, I thought, even if she is my own daughter, I will absolutely not tolerate it!" "Yes, I stripped her clothes and searched her, so what? A clear conscience needs no defense!" "Now the college leaders all praise me for being selfless, saying I deserve to be a model of teacher ethics." "Only in this way can we wash away the stain left by that dead ghost, so that when Lily goes out in the future, people won't poke her in the spine." I lay in bed, tears flowing from the corners of my eyes into my ears. My throat was smoking dry, and my head was splitting with pain. I struggled to get up, pushed open the bedroom door, and supported myself against the wall to walk to the living room. "Mom... Mom... I feel so sick... Can you take me to the campus hospital... please..." My mom hung up the phone, turned her head, and looked at me scrutinizingly. "Fever?" She walked over, reached out and touched my forehead, then sneered. "Lily, you're addicted to acting, aren't you?" "Going to the hospital for this little temperature? Are you trying to escape tomorrow's final exam?" "Let me tell you, when your dad was on trial, he loved to fake illness. You really don't learn the good things, but pick up the bad things instantly!" I argued weakly: "I didn't... I really feel dizzy..." She suddenly became furious, "Still pretending!" Then she rushed into the kitchen, caught a large bowl of cold water, pinched my chin, and forced it into my mouth. "Aren't you having a fever? Drink some cold water to cool down!" The ice water choked into my windpipe, I coughed violently, and the water spilled all over me. But she didn't care, pouring until more than half of the bowl of water went down. "Go back to your room! If you don't get first place in your major tomorrow, see how I deal with you!" She pushed me into the room and locked the door behind her. I slumped behind the door, slapping it desperately, listening to her laughter as she continued to watch TV in the living room. My consciousness gradually blurred. I thought, if I just died like this, would she regret it even a little bit? The next morning. I was splashed awake by a basin of cold water. My mom stood at the door, looking down at me dripping wet, holding a cell phone. The flash blinded me. Her fingers tapped quickly on the screen. A few seconds later, a message popped up simultaneously in the college staff group and the student group. The accompanying picture was a photo of me lying miserably on the ground. The caption: [This is the daughter of a criminal, psychological quality is too poor, faking fainting to escape the exam. Teachers, please punish severely, no need to give me face.] In the end, the aunt next door heard that the commotion was wrong and forced her way in by knocking on the door, and took me to the hospital. The doctor said it was acute pneumonia, and if I had come half a day later, my brain would have been fried. During my hospitalization, my mom didn't visit me once. She said the medical bills were too expensive, I brought it on myself, and let me reflect on myself. The day I was discharged and returned to school, it happened to be the college's selection for the poverty grant. This money was a lifesaver for me. After my dad went to prison, the family savings were frozen. Although my mom's salary was not low, she never gave me living expenses. She said she wanted to raise me poorly to prevent me from turning bad. I even had to squeeze the money to buy sanitary pads from my teeth. I was the most qualified person to apply. The review meeting was held in the large lecture hall. My mom was the department head and had veto power. When it was my turn to state my case on stage, I kept my head down and spoke about the difficulties at home. The audience was silent, and many counselors showed sympathetic looks. Just when I thought it was a sure thing this time, my mom stood up. She strode to the podium and snatched my application form. My mom adjusted her glasses and spoke righteously into the microphone: "I oppose giving the grant to Lily." Even the dean was stunned: "Professor Smith, Lily's situation indeed meets the criteria..." My mom interrupted the dean and pointed at my nose, "Meets what criteria?" "She is my daughter, I know best! Is she short of money? She is not! What she lacks is backbone!" "For a child from this kind of family background, if you give her money, she will turn around and buy cosmetics, compare herself with others, and learn bad things! We cannot encourage this kind of unhealthy trend!" She turned around and pointed at the class president, whose family ran a chain of supermarkets. "I think it should be given to the class president. Although his family is well-off, he is excellent in both character and learning, and this money is a kind of honorary recognition for him. As for Lily..." She sneered, "It's good to be a little poor. Starving is just right. So as to save her from thinking about lust when she is warm and well-fed, and taking the money to do those shady things." Trembling all over, I pleaded in a low voice. "Mom... I don't even have money for lunch..." She shouted sternly, "Shut up! Don't embarrass me here! Get down!" The grant was finally given to the class president. To survive, I started going to the recycling station near the school on weekends to sell scrap paper and plastic bottles. I dug out bottles from the trash cans and crushed them flat. The dozen or so bucks I got in exchange allowed me to buy a few steamed buns. But this humble path to survival was also blocked. That day as I was weighing the items, a few students taught by my mom passed by. They took out their phones and filmed me, laughing and mocking. "Look, the top student in the major is picking up trash!" "Professor Smith is so respectable, how did she give birth to a beggar?" Half an hour later, my mom rode her electric scooter and charged into the recycling station. Her face was ashen. She rushed up, snatched the money from my hand, tore it to pieces, threw it on the ground, and stomped on it a few times. "Lily! Will you not be satisfied until you piss me off to death? I am a dignified university professor, and you've thrown away all my face! Picking up trash? Are you trying to tell the whole world that I abuse you?" I cried and went to pick up the torn pieces of paper on the ground: "That's my food money... I'm hungry..." She grabbed my backpack, which contained my professional books and the only family photo. "You deserve to starve to death!" "Since you like trash so much, then stay with the trash!" She used all her strength to throw my backpack onto the conveyor belt of the running trash compactor. "No!" I screamed and lunged forward, but was held back tightly by her. A huge sound of metal crushing sounded, and a few seconds later, both the books and the photo were turned into ruins. My mom pointed at my nose, spit spraying on my face: "You are born a lowly wretch! Not properly attending a good university, insisting on diving into the trash heap! Just like your dead ghost dad, mud that can't be plastered on a wall!" I slumped on the ground, looking at the flattened bag. Mom, why do you have to bully me too... Both the bag and the books were gone. I could only borrow books from classmates or copy books in the library. Just when I was most desperate, a newly hired lecturer, Mr. Miller, came to the college. Mr. Miller was very young. He noticed my predicament and talked to me privately. After class that day, he handed me a brand new set of review materials for the grad school entrance exam, as well as a few professional extension books. "Lily, your grades are very good, don't give up." "This is lent to you by the teacher, you don't need to return it. Knowledge can change your destiny, you have to believe in yourself." That was the first time I had felt kindness in a long while. I covered the books with newspaper and hid them deep in the desk drawer in the study room. I secretly took them out to read every night. However, during a major class on Friday, my mom suddenly rushed into the classroom and flipped my desk over. Books scattered all over the floor, and those new books covered in newspaper slid to her feet. She tore open the book covers and saw the message written by Mr. Miller: [May you be like a sunflower, growing towards the sun.] My mom was so angry her muscles twitched, "Good! Good!" "I was wondering why you've been so absent-minded lately, it turns out you're being slutty! Growing towards the sun? I think you want to have a teacher-student romance, you want to use unspoken rules to climb up!" The whole class exploded, and the students watched this scene with excitement. I hastily explained. "Mom, don't talk nonsense! That was lent to me by Mr. Miller..." She didn't listen at all, grabbed the books, and rushed to the podium. "Lent? What male teacher would privately give a female college student books? And write such sappy words?" At this time, Mr. Miller just happened to walk into the classroom. My mom threw the books hard at Mr. Miller's face, and blood seeped out. Mr. Miller held his forehead in shock. "Professor Smith, what are you doing?" My mom pointed at him and cursed loudly, "What am I doing? I should ask you what you are doing!" "You beast in human clothing! Academic scum! Pervert! My daughter is only twenty, and you seduce her? Exchanging a few lousy books for her body?" "Do you have any shame? I have already called the police! I will also report you to the university party committee for harassing female students!" Mr. Miller was so angry his face turned red: "You... you are simply unreasonable! I just saw she was pitiful..." My mom turned around and yelled to the whole class, "Pitiful? What's pitiful about her? I think she is a slut!" "Everyone see clearly! This is the consequence of being unchaste! From now on, whoever dares to talk to this male teacher is going against me!" The next day, Mr. Miller was forced to be suspended and left. The whole school was spreading rumors that I was unchaste, seducing the teacher in order to get a guaranteed admission to grad school. Dead mice started appearing in my desk drawer, and a piece of paper with the word "vixen" was stuck to my back. That night, I wrote at the end of my diary. [I miss Dad. Even if he is in prison, he never hit me.] The next day at the all-department assembly, my mom stepped onto the rostrum as the keynote speaker, holding my diary in her hand. "Before announcing this week's discipline, I want to read a diary entry first. This was written by my daughter Lily. Everyone listen, to what extent the thoughts of this shameless thing have gone bad!" "She actually misses that criminal! Her dad embezzled public funds, a parasite on society! She is not ashamed of it, but misses him instead?" "What does this show? It shows her bones are bad! Her thoughts are completely rotten!" Thousands of pairs of eyes stared at me. I bit my lip hard until I tasted blood. Mom, if this is your so-called "education", then you have succeeded. You killed your daughter with your own hands. Rumors have a life of their own. Hooligans from outside the school started blocking me on my way back to the dorm, whistling and asking me "how much for one night". There was even one time, I cried and asked her for help as she was walking out of the school gate, thinking she would at least consider her identity as a mother and drive them away. But she just stopped, glanced at me with disgust, and sneered in front of those hooligans. "Flies don't bite seamless eggs. If you didn't wink at them, would they pester you? Don't embarrass me here!" After saying that, she left without looking back, leaving behind the hooligans' even more unbridled laughter. Later I found out that my mom complained to her colleagues in the office. "This child has hooks in her eyes, she is born a vixen, I can't control her either." When these words spread, I became the recognized "slut". Wednesday afternoon, physical education elective course. A girl in the class lost a pack of sanitary pads. It was originally a small matter, but a few boys who usually liked to play pranks turned their eyes to my backpack. They stuffed a colorful little box into the side pocket of my bag. It was a box of condoms. Actually, that was confiscated by my mom from other students a few days ago. She didn't throw it away, but deliberately placed it on the prominent entryway cabinet at home. She was testing me, also fishing. But I didn't touch it. I didn't expect this box of things to appear in school, in my bag. When that boy shouted "Lily has condoms in her bag", I was completely stunned. The next second, my mom rushed into the classroom. She obviously had received the news long ago. She rushed to my seat and grabbed that box. At that moment, I saw the excitement in her eyes. She held the box of condoms high up, showing it to the whole class. "I knew it... I knew it!" "Everyone look! This is your good classmate!"
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