Chapter 2

My younger sister, Bai Xue, lived up to her name. Since childhood, she was delicate and beautiful-a well-known little beauty in the village. Unfortunately, she was born intellectually disabled.

But our whole family never minded this. On the contrary, we cherished her even more and spoiled her like a little princess.

My father, Bai Cheng, managed an apple orchard and ran a fruit business. My mother, Zhou Meihui, was a primary school teacher.

Our family wasn’t rich, but we were better off than some and were happy and content.

Bai Xue was two years younger than me and had always been by my side since childhood.

I liked to hold her hand as we wandered around the village, listening to others say, “Your sister is so pretty,” and then happily buying her candy at the village shop.

This ordinary and happy life continued until Bai Xue turned ten.

In the winter of 2008, my sister fell seriously ill with a high fever that wouldn’t go away and was in a coma for a full half-month. The hospital diagnosed her with Meningitis.

Fortunately, the illness was cured; unfortunately, it left aftereffects.

After being discharged, Bai Xue seemed like a different person, becoming moody and unpredictable.

It was as if two people lived in her body: one gentle, one wild.

When she was lucid, she was as sweet and kind as before. She loved to sing and dance, often bringing laughter to our family. But when her illness struck, she recognized no one. Anything that appeared before her-be it things or people-she wanted to destroy.

My body still bears countless scars from my sister that have yet to fade.

Of course I didn’t kill her because of that-she was a patient.

My parents took her to many hospitals, and the diagnosis was always the same-organic mental disorder.

She simply couldn’t control her emotions and behavior.

She couldn’t continue her studies, and we couldn’t leave her alone at home, so my mother resigned from her teaching job to stay home and take care of her full-time.

During that time, my greatest fear after school was coming home and seeing new wounds on my mother’s body.

Once, the injury was especially severe-my sister cut my mother’s face with a knife.

I was furious and rushed to Bai Xue’s room, wanting to scold her, but the moment I saw her, all I felt was heartache and helplessness; my anger disappeared entirely.

My sister was like a frightened rabbit, curled up in the corner, banging her head against her knees over and over, repeating, “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

I went over to hold her and gently comforted her, “Don’t be afraid. Your big sister is here.”

She was trembling all over, her eyes swollen from crying. After a long while, she pressed her hand to her chest and said to me, “Sister, it hurts here. It hurts so much.”

Every time she became lucid and realized she had hurt the family again, Bai Xue suffered more than anyone.

How could I bear to keep blaming her?

Strangely, whenever I stayed by her side, her lucid periods would always last a bit longer than usual.

So from then on, as long as I wasn’t at school, I stayed home to help my mother take care of my sister.

Although I gradually drifted apart from my friends at school, I didn’t regret it.

Nothing is more important than family.

To find a cure for my sister, my father searched everywhere for connections and remedies.

Finally, three years later, he managed to contact a neurologist who had just returned from overseas and was willing to perform surgery on Bai Xue.

Our family was overjoyed, thinking we had finally grasped a glimmer of hope. Little did we know, that was truly the beginning of hell for us.