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墨書 Inktalez
My Mom looked at the milk in her hand, stammering, "Who says it's spoiled? Imported milk from abroad is like this; it’s not spoiled at all!"
I immediately took the cup of milk and handed it to her. "Alright, since you say it’s not spoiled, why don’t you drink it? Aren't you always worried about wasting? You should finish every drop!"
My Mom glared at me with fiery eyes, but my Dad was holding his phone up to her for a live stream, so she had no choice but to take the cup.
As she smelled the sour odor and looked at the murky liquid that had clearly gone bad, a look of embarrassment crossed her face.
In the moment she took the cup, she pretended to slip and spilled the milk all over the floor, exclaiming, "Oh no!"
I let out a cold laugh as I watched her. "It's fine, Mom. This cup may be spilled, but there’s still a whole bucket left for you to drink slowly!"
My Mom pointed at me and unleashed a torrent of curses.
She lamented how unlucky she was and how I was such an ungrateful child.
Then, taking advantage of our distraction, she snatched the phone and ran off without looking back.
In the end, she didn’t drink that cup of milk.
She posted more than ten videos on social media complaining about her misfortune, and relatives and friends showered her with comfort.
Some liked her posts, some commented on how hard her life was, and others even wrote light-hearted poems praising her greatness.
I was already used to such scenes with my dad; after all, it wasn't the first time for her.
We couldn't care less about the accusations from relatives and friends; taking care of my brother was the priority now.
After spending three days in the hospital, we finally awaited my brother's discharge day.
However, as soon as we opened the door at home, a strong stench and the smell of gutter oil hit us.
Every trash can was filled with leftover takeout—fried chicken, snail noodles, crayfish, and even steak.
And there was my mom, lounging on the sofa, watching TV while happily gnawing on Pig's Trotters.
Thinking back to how she used to refuse to let us eat meat, I found it ironic.
We returned home without telling her, catching her completely off guard.
My dad immediately pulled out his phone and posted on social media: "Hey relatives and friends, look at this wonderful wife I complain about all day! Just look at how clean our house is! Today our child is discharged from the hospital, and she doesn't care at all! What a dedicated mom! Give her a thumbs up!"
My mom angrily threw down the Pig's Trotters, her gritted teeth making her look like a devil: "Delete it! Delete it now!"
"Yang Yanli, you may not care about your son being hospitalized, but who was it that insisted we couldn't eat meat? Turns out you're enjoying it privately!"
"Zhang Chenggang, stop talking nonsense! I'm dealing with difficulties here!"
"Difficulties? You’ve managed to create difficulties even with all this food! Why don’t you tell me how hard it is!"
"My brother-in-law opened a braised food shop, right? It’s such a shame when he has leftovers every day. I’m just helping out with what they don’t want. Why can’t you understand that?"
Looking at her greasy mouth and the lies spilling from it, I couldn’t help but feel nauseous.
What kind of mother could do something so ridiculous?
Perhaps out of concern for my still weak brother, or maybe because she knew she was in the wrong, she soon put down the Pig's Trotters and started cleaning up.
However, she was live streaming the whole time, cleaning while muttering: "My Young Master Princess is back! This Old Maid has to hurry and do Housework to serve him, always busy! My life is just so unlucky!"
As soon as my dad heard this, he snapped back, "If you don’t want to do it, then don’t. There’s no need to complain as if someone is wronging you."
"Ridiculous! If I don’t do it, who will? Who else cleans inside and out around here? When have you ever lifted a finger?"
I knew she had ulterior motives; before long, her comment section was filled with insults directed at us.
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