Zhou Qiqi felt as if she had sunk into darkness, or as if she were floating on a cloud.
In her hazy consciousness, she seemed to be having a very long dream, her soul floating lightly, as if...
She returned to the modern world that was both familiar and strange to her.
The scenes before her eyes flashed by rapidly, none other than the stories of her experiences from childhood to adulthood.
She saw her younger self, huddled in a corner of the living room, listening to her parents arguing and smashing things in front of her.
They argued about who should raise her after the divorce, every word sounding like disdain, and not one of them even glanced back at the trembling little girl.
What she remembers most clearly is from when she was in the fifth grade of elementary school.
The school bell rang, and the students waited for their parents at the school gate.
She was always the last one to leave the classroom, dawdling along.
Because she knew that there was a high probability that no one would come to pick her up.
Several mischievous boys in the class seized on this and started by mocking her from afar as an "unwanted wild child."
Later, seeing that she dared not say a word, he became even more aggressive, spitting on her, snatching her hard-written homework, and laughing as he threw it into the dirty squat toilet in the men's restroom.
At first, she would only shed tears secretly, not daring to tell the teacher, let alone her parents who were always busy and arguing.
She thought she could just endure it and it would pass, but the bullying became more and more intense.
What happened next? How did things change?
She remembers it clearly: once again, her homework was snatched by those mean boys and thrown into the men's restroom.
She endured the humiliation and disgust, and went inside to retrieve it, but they splashed her from head to toe with the dirty water that the cleaning man had just used to rinse the mop.
Cold, foul-smelling sewage streamed down her hair and cheeks. She stood there, trembling, not from the cold, but from despair.
She didn't cry that day.
She silently walked out of the toilet, dripping with dirty water, but did not return to the classroom or go home.
She walked step by step up to the empty, deserted rooftop of the teaching building.
The wind blew her damp, cold clothes as she walked to the railing and looked down at the tiny pedestrians and vehicles below.
She remembered what her parents had said during an argument—"Death is the greatest relief."
Is it true that if I just jump, I'll never have to endure this again? I'll never feel sad again?
Her hands trembled as she gripped the cold, rough iron bars, and she tentatively lifted one foot.
Just then, a flock of birds flew across the sky, flapping their wings, looking free and happy.
She looked at them, her eyes filled with envy, and her desire to die seemed to grow stronger.
She made up her mind and decided to just jump.
But just then, a gentle yet powerful voice rang out behind her, and she called out:
"Little sister, wait a minute!"
She turned around and saw a figure standing against the light at the entrance to the rooftop.
She couldn't see her face clearly, but she could feel her deep concern.
The older woman came over and didn't look down on her for being covered in filth.
Instead, he gently took her hand and brought her back from the brink of danger.
Her older sister hugged her and told her that being bullied was not her fault, nor was it her responsibility for her parents' problems.
She needs to learn to protect herself; there are still many possibilities in her life.
These words enlightened her when she was still a little girl; it was the first time someone had ever said these things to her.
She pulled her leg back, and the fierce determination she had been holding in suddenly found an outlet.
Without saying a word, she turned and ran back to the toilet, picked up a shovel, scooped up the filth, rushed to the boys who were still laughing and playing, and splashed it all over them!
From then on, no one in the school dared to bully her easily.
And from then on...
On many occasions when she felt she couldn't hold on any longer, that older sister would always appear at the right time.
For example, during the Spring Festival, when every household is brightly lit and families are reunited, she misses her parents terribly.
She hesitated for a long time, and finally mustered up the courage to walk alone for several hours to see her father and mother.
In the end, she just hid in the shadows of the stairwell, watching through the window as they each had new families, new children, laughter, and a warm, bright atmosphere.
She could only lean against the cold wall and weep silently.
Just then, the older sister whose face she couldn't remember reappeared, like a guardian angel.
Hand her a tissue, gently comfort her, and tell her that she deserves to be loved and should believe in herself.
Later, when the pressure of senior year in high school was so immense that it brought me to the brink of collapse, and when I felt lost and confused after graduating from university and constantly hitting roadblocks in my job search...
That older sister would always appear quietly when she was at her darkest and most in need of guidance, giving her strength and direction.
She used the life she had been given back from the rooftop, along with the fierce determination she had shown, to live a good life.
She gritted her teeth and persevered, transforming herself from a despised wild child into someone who got into a good university and found a job that could support her.
Although still lonely, and no longer believing in love or marriage, I have truly begun to take control of my own life.
The older sister became the only light in her gloomy youth and the most important person in her life.
Strangely, no matter how hard she tried, she could never remember what her older sister looked like.
It seems as if there is an invisible force, or rather, her own subconscious, protecting this memory, preventing it from becoming too concrete, for fear that it will be lost if it becomes concrete.
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