I’m the daughter of the heroine in an angsty novel.
When I was four, I finally understood those strange bullet comments:
[The heroine is still desperately staying up late, working to make money and support her daughter. She has no idea she already has cancer. If this drags on, her child is going to lose her mother!]
[If either the male lead or the female lead had just spoken up, there wouldn’t have been a “running away while pregnant” plot at all.]
[Their daughter is the real pitiful one. Her mother dies when she’s only six. The male lead never even learns the heroine died after giving birth to his daughter, and he spends the rest of his life alone.]
[And the most miserable one is our Xiao Bao. She obviously has a rich dad, yet she still gets sent to the orphanage…]
Mom was going to die?
I stared at my gentle, beautiful mother in shock. No way!
They may not speak up, but I do!
On a warm afternoon, outside an office building, I spotted a man in a sharp suit and threw my arms around his leg.
“Dad, send money! I need to save Mom!”
