I still remember that summer when I arrived at my mother's residence, which served as both her office and her home. The first thing she said was, "Why are you dressed so poorly?" That day, I was wearing a simple white shirt and a long floral skirt. My mother always complained that I wasn't beautiful enough, because in her eyes, that made it difficult for me to find a wealthy boyfriend. Looking still very young, she told me not to tell people I was her daughter. In this day and age, she believed that for a woman to do business and make a living here, concealing her age and marital status would be more advantageous.
At that time, I sincerely wanted to help her, as she had endured so many hardships. So, I agreed.
The days that followed slowly made me realize the hardships of life. Opposite my place was a dormitory for migrant workers. Every mealtime, I would see them eating bowls of white rice with a jar of chili sauce, enjoying it immensely.
Our lives were not prosperous either. I noticed my mother did all kinds of businesses, just to earn even a little bit of profit. Although she always insisted on paying the bill when entertaining others, at home, every meal was extremely frugal, consisting of only one vegetable dish and one meat dish.
My mother is the kind of person who, even with only two dollars in her pocket, will act as lavishly as a millionaire in front of others. Even now, after all these years, she continues to live this way.
My mother would often disappear for a while, and then the landlord would come to me for rent. Her relatives needed to eat every day. I remember one day when I had only two dollars left in my pocket. Looking at them and looking at this place, I really wanted to cry. I didn't know how we would survive once those two dollars were gone.
When my mother was away, I had to earn money to support the family and myself. Through a classmate, I landed a gift business deal. I remember going to a factory with my classmate to negotiate. Although they quickly saw through my minimum price and the contract was signed somewhat hastily, we still made some money, which made me feel quite satisfied.
Once, my mother somehow brought a hundred boxes of drinks from the Northeast to Shenzhen, but she herself had vanished. I scrambled to find a warehouse to store them, but I worried about the storage fees.
Faced with a pile of drinks whose names I had never even heard of, my classmate and I rode bicycles, going from shop to shop to promote them. Asking for help really requires courage; you have to face ruthless rejections or being ignored. Looking back, I am glad we were young and had just left school; we could endure those setbacks. If it were now, I really cannot imagine whether I could still do such things.
As it turned out, in the sweltering heat, one day it started raining heavily, our bicycle fell, and a box of drinks tumbled off the back seat. In that moment, I felt a sudden sense of disappointment and helplessness. I knew my classmate felt the same way.
Fortunately, this moment of fragility only lasted a short time. I remember us picking up the bicycle and continuing to sell our drinks shop by shop.
Finally, I remember we eventually moved a kind person, earning enough money to cover the living expenses for a large group of people for a month.
