When my little brother's pre-school physical revealed his blood type didn't match ours, my dad demanded a divorce. A paternity test proved it: my brother was my mother's child, but not my father's. He was my "half-brother." The boy I had called "little brother" for seven years was actually my uncle. It turns out that when the precious, only son becomes a cosmic joke, the neglected daughter can suddenly become the golden child. 1 The year my mom was pregnant with my brother, the incense burning in front of the fertility shrine in our living room never went out. When the ultrasound revealed it was a boy, my dad went up and down the hallway handing out cigars to everyone he saw, his voice booming so loud the whole apartment building could hear: "The Miller family finally has an heir!" My bedroom was cleared out and painted sky blue. A corner of the living room was sectioned off with an old bedsheet, and that became my new "bedroom." My mom pointed at my faded stuffed animals and elementary school certificates: "Throw this useless junk out. Don't let it take up my son's space." After my brother was born, his nickname became "Precious." As for me, growing up, they mostly referred to me as "that girl," or they just didn't address me at all. At the dinner table. My mom would pick the vegetables my brother didn't like out of his bowl and drop them into mine. "Eat this, it has the same nutritional value." If my brother threw a tantrum and knocked something over, I was the one who got yelled at for not cleaning the table fast enough. When my brother was in kindergarten and wanted a two-hundred-dollar motorized toy car, they bought it without blinking an eye. When I was in middle school and wanted a thirty-dollar study guide, I had to listen to her complain about it for half a month. "All you know how to do is waste money! What's the point of a girl studying so much? I think finishing middle school is enough for you. Mrs. Henderson next door is hiring at her salon; you should go learn a trade and start earning money to help out the family." My dad, whose eyes rarely left the TV, chimed in: "Your mother is right. What's the point of three years of high school? Better to start working early. In a few years, find a decent family to marry into, and our job is done." I stared blankly at the only family portrait in our house. It was taken for my brother's 100-day celebration. I was standing on the far edge, smiling a smile that looked worse than crying. In the future they planned for me, I was a straight, downward-sloping line. Drop out, work menial jobs, get married, and use my fleeting value to feed this family that revolved entirely around my brother. 2 This continued until the summer after I graduated middle school. My brother was getting ready to start elementary school. The results of his school enrollment physical came out on a Thursday morning. During lunch, my dad slammed the piece of paper down hard onto the glass dining table. My brother stopped whining for lobster. Startled, he dropped his spoon into his bowl, splashing rice water everywhere. "Our son is type AB," my dad said, glaring at my mom. "I'm type A, you're type O. Tell me, how exactly did we produce an AB child?" "What are you yelling for?! You're scaring our Precious!" Having a son gave my mom all the power in the house, so she no longer bothered to hide her domineering and unreasonable nature. "Is it that young guy who moved in downstairs? I've noticed that ever since he moved in, you dress to the nines just to take out the trash." "Bullshit! The test results must be wrong." My mom looked at the lab report. She said it was a mistake, but her fingers unconsciously gripped the edge of the tablecloth tightly. "I took him to get tested myself." My dad yanked my brother, who was now crying in fear, toward the door. As he passed the kitchen and saw me washing dishes, he barked, "You come too." After the test, my mom quickly coaxed my brother into his room. As the door closed, I could hear his quiet sobs. Having been spoiled since birth, he had never seen our parents act like this. I went to the balcony to take the clothes out of the washing machine and hang them up. In the living room. My mom was sitting with her legs crossed, cracking sunflower seeds. She spat the shells all over the floor, spit flying everywhere as she ranted: "When that stupid report comes back, I'm definitely suing that garbage clinic. They're going to pay me tens of thousands for emotional distress." "And you, Richard Miller, don't think you're getting away with this easily!" My dad didn't say a word. He just chain-smoked, one cigarette after another, until the ashtray looked like a small mountain. 3 The report wouldn't be ready until Monday afternoon. The entire weekend, my dad chain-smoked until the apartment was choked with smog, and my mom lost all her usual patience for my brother's crying. On Saturday afternoon, my best friend from middle school asked me to go to the bookstore with her to pick out some high school study guides. It was the only thing I had been looking forward to all summer. Just as I was about to head out, my brother charged at me like a little cannonball and hugged my leg. "Sister, play with me! I want to play Ultraman fighting monsters!" "Sister has to go out for a bit. I'll play with you when I get back tonight, okay?" "No! I want to play right now!" His mouth puckered, and he started to wail. My mom poked her head out of the kitchen, her face dark. "Where are you running off to now? If your brother wants you to play with him, then play with him. All you know how to do is run wild outside. Do you have any idea how to be an older sister?" "Mom, you promised I could go to the bookstore with my friend. And it's just for a little while..." "What promise?! Do you not see what's going on in this house right now? Stop causing trouble." she wiped her hands and walked over. "You stay home and watch your brother." The last flicker of hope in my heart snapped and died. My mom turned and went back to the kitchen. I took a deep breath, crouched down, and tried to reason with my brother. He casually grabbed an orange and threw it at my face. "Troublemaker!" "Leo, if you keep acting like this, I'm going to get mad!" "You wouldn't dare! Just you wait." As he yelled, he ran toward the "bedroom" separated by the old bedsheet. My heart tightened, and I chased after him. "What are you doing?" Too late. He ducked under the sheet and immediately spotted the manila envelope sitting next to my pillow. Inside was my acceptance letter to City High School. It was the proof of my hard work, earned over countless nights studying amidst the blaring TV and my brother's crying. "What's this?" He picked it up curiously. "Put that down! You can't touch that!" My voice cracked. Seeing my panic only egged him on. He deliberately held the envelope high, a nasty smirk on his face. "Mommy, Daddy! Sister's hiding something good!" "Give it to me!" I lunged to grab it back. "No, I won't! Garbage from a money-drain!" Under my horrified gaze, his two small hands grabbed both ends of the envelope and pulled hard. Riiiiiiiiip— The sound of tearing paper felt like a knife slicing into my heart. The paper with my name on it, my only hope for the future, was torn clean in half. Still not satisfied, he ripped it a few more times, letting the pieces fall around his feet like snow. I stared at the shreds on the floor, my mind buzzing. Months of endurance, grievance, and my faint hope for the future were torn to shreds in an instant. "Ah!" I let out a low, guttural roar that I didn't even recognize as my own. I charged at him, shoved him hard to the floor, pinned him down, and rained punches on him. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" My brother was stunned for a second before erupting into earth-shattering wails. "WAAAAAH... Mommy! Sister's hitting me! Mommy, help!" My mom rushed in. Seeing me on top of my brother, her eyes instantly turned red. She grabbed a fistful of my hair and violently yanked me off him. The immense force sent me stumbling backward into the bed frame, the back of my head throbbing with pain. "Are you out of your mind?! How dare you hit your brother! It's just a stupid piece of paper; so what if he tore it?! Do you really think you're going to that useless high school? Let me tell you, no way in hell! You vicious little brat. He's your own brother!" My brother hid behind my mom, crying while simultaneously making faces at me. There wasn't a single tear on his face. My mom hugged him tightly, checking him for injuries, cooing endlessly: "Don't cry, Precious. Mommy's here. Mommy will hit her! This jinx, daring to touch my son!" My arms hurt, my scalp was burning, but none of it compared to the gaping hole in my chest. Hearing the noise, my dad came in from the balcony. He just frowned and yelled impatiently, "What's all this racket? Haven't we got enough problems?" Then, his gaze swept over the torn paper on the floor without lingering for a second, and he turned right back around to stare out the window and smoke. The smoke blurred his back, and it blurred the last shred of hope I had for this family. Amidst my mother's cursing and my brother's smug looks, I picked up the pieces, one by one. Using clear tape, I carefully pieced them back together. 4 The paternity test results came out on Monday. My dad went to get them alone. After I finished cleaning the apartment, making sure it was spotless, I walked up to my mom. "Mom, school's about to start. Can you lend me the tuition and meal money for the first semester of my freshman year?" "Didn't I tell you? If you dare to go to that money-wasting high school, you have to earn every penny yourself." Just as I was about to promise to pay her back double next semester, the front door opened. My dad had a file folder in his hand. "Here, let me see." My mom walked over, looking triumphant. My dad dodged her hand, threw the envelope onto the coffee table, and patted me on the shoulder. "Good girl, go back to your brother's room for a bit." "...Okay." I breathed a sigh of relief. I was their biological daughter. But a part of me felt a strange sense of disappointment. I cracked the door open slightly, a bad feeling creeping over me. My dad ignored my mom, walked straight over to my brother, and squatted down in front of him. "Don't ever call me 'Dad' again." WAAAAH— My brother burst into tears. My mom snatched up the report, her eyes scanning the paper before locking onto a specific section. "This is impossible..." her lips trembled. "It's right there in black and white." My dad stood up. "He's your biological brother. Your half-brother." My brother's crying grew louder, and for the first time, my mom screamed at him. "Stop crying! Are you mourning the dead?!" The room fell terrifyingly silent. My mom stared blankly at my dad, her lips moving as if trying to digest those words. Suddenly, like she had been struck by lightning, she stared at my brother huddled in the corner of the sofa. Her gaze was no longer filled with its usual doting love. She walked toward him, step by step. She crouched down in front of him and rubbed her fingers hard against his face, like she was inspecting a strange object. "Half... brother?" she repeated. "Then... then where is my son? The son I carried for nine months?!" "Mommy, that hurts." My brother was terrified and tried to pull away, but she grabbed his shoulders tightly. Her nails dug into his soft flesh, drawing blood. "Where is my son?!" Her voice pitched up, sharp and piercing. "I gave birth to a boy! Where did he go?!" "Stop screaming!" My dad smashed the ashtray on the floor. "Go to your sister's house and ask your brother's real mother!" It was my aunt's turn to host my grandmother this month. When we knocked on the door and my aunt saw our entire family standing there, she was completely confused. Before she could say a word, my mom marched into the house and dragged my grandmother, who was prepping vegetables, out of the kitchen. My grandmother stumbled, the vegetables scattering across the floor. "Oh my, what's going on? Are you trying to kill an old woman?" My mom pulled my brother forward and shoved him in front of my grandmother. My brother's voice was hoarse from crying. He sat on the floor and hugged my mom's leg. "Mommy, don't leave me..." "Here, here, don't cry. Come to Auntie." My aunt's health was poor, and she hadn't been able to conceive for years, so she was especially fond of my brother. "If your mommy doesn't want you, Auntie wants you." My aunt was probably secretly planning to rely on my brother to care for her in her old age if she really couldn't have kids. "Sis, whether you or I want this kid, we have no choice but to take him." My mom scoffed coldly, clutching the crumpled report as she walked toward my grandmother. "What do you mean?" my aunt asked, confused. "Because he's our mother's son." My aunt almost laughed out loud. She hugged my brother and wiped his tears. "Precious, look, your mommy is throwing another tantrum at Grandma. Let's ignore her. I'll take you to get KFC." My mom ground her teeth, trying desperately to suppress her rage. "Mom, why aren't you saying anything?" All the color drained from my grandmother's face. 5 "Mom, say something!" My aunt looked back and forth between my grandmother and my mom, finally realizing something was very wrong. "When I gave birth to him in the countryside, you were the only one there." My mom's voice started to shake. "You said the baby inhaled amniotic fluid and needed to be resuscitated... You said he was saved, but his health was weak, and you told me to rest and recover while you took care of him..." My grandmother's eyes darted around, her lips moving, but she couldn't offer an explanation. My aunt, holding a struggling Leo, stepped aside and handed me her phone. "Quick, call your Uncle Mark. Before they start fighting." "No wonder you suddenly insisted on going to stay with your friends for a few months! Dad is dead! Whose bastard is this?!" My mom grabbed my grandmother's shoulders and shook her violently. "Where did you put my son?!" "I, I..." My grandmother closed her eyes, tears rolling down her wrinkled cheeks. "You what?!" My dad roared. "If anything has happened to my son, I'll make you pay with your life!" My grandmother's knees gave out. She collapsed onto the floor, curling into a ball. "I, I left him... left him in the countryside." "Left him in the countryside?" my mom repeated softly. "You sent my son away? And swapped him for your... your bastard?!" My grandmother knelt there, covering her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking. My mom lunged at her. "Where is my son?! Tell me!" Seeing this, my aunt plastered an awkward smile on her face, trying to ease the tension: "Sis, calm down. Mom, this has to be a mistake. Look how old you are, this is absurd." My aunt's voice grew weaker and weaker, until she saw her savior finally arrive.
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