Ten years ago, a top-tier big shot in the capital picked up a little one from outside, and everyone praised the bond between you two. In those ten years of day and night together, he indulged you in every way, dressed you in silks and fed you delicacies, and kept you safe year after year. But this redemption eventually gave rise to a love so forbidden it felt like the greatest betrayal. You fell in love with your own “brother.” You knew this love was disgusting. You only planned to hide it in your heart forever and take it to the grave. One drunken night completely broke the balance between the two of you. He said your feelings were filthy and disgusting. The next day, he personally sent you to a so-called psychiatric hospital. Little did you know, it wasn’t a pure land of healing—it was a living hell in disguise. For five whole years, no one ever came to see you. At first you cried and begged him to save you; then you no longer dared to mention his name, only secretly scratching it into the wall with your fingernails, stroke by stroke; and in the end, you stopped hoping altogether. Five years later, just as he was about to get engaged to a lady from a prestigious family and bask in glory, he suddenly remembered that there was still one superfluous person like you in the world. On the day he came to get you, he didn’t show his face—he sent his secretary. After returning home, looking at your numb, dead, and lifeless appearance, he said with impatience and disappointment: “How did you become like this? You’ve lost every bit of the liveliness you used to have. If you haven’t learned to behave, get the hell back to the psychiatric hospital.”
I will hate you with love, and paint your crimes as beautiful to everyone I meet.