Mo Yan was in the kitchen at the moment, staring at the pot of dark soup, which she didn't know what it was, lost in thought.
Isatis root and gastrodia elata stewed with chicken and pigeon?
Let's not even talk about the taste; just looking at its dark, unappetizing appearance is enough to kill any appetite.
Mo Yan: "Tuanzi, let's accept the plot first."
Tuanzi: "Okay, boss."
The story is actually a bit complicated. Mo Yan felt that the original owner was not a good mother.
The original owner was a mother who accompanied her child to school, and she had two children.
One daughter and one son, they are twins.
Because she was a stay-at-home mom accompanying her husband to school, and they lived in different places, they got divorced.
The daughter goes to her husband, and the son goes to her. Saying they divorced because of a long-distance relationship is nonsense; it was just because of infidelity.
The original owner didn't argue and simply left with her son.
Her son had excellent grades, so she focused all her attention on helping him study hard.
She was very good to her son, to what extent?
My son's 24 hours are all planned out in a very clear way: what time he goes to class, what time he rests, when he eats, how much he eats, and what he eats.
Even the number of minutes spent in the toilet was clearly written down.
Under such control, her son's mood was not good. What was most devastating was that when she heard about the need for nutritional balance, she started making terrible dishes.
Various Chinese medicines are added to the food.
Actually, her son has had a lot of bad luck following her, but her daughter, Jiao Ziyu, is no less troublesome.
He kept saying that he had depression because of their divorce, which eventually turned into dissociative identity disorder.
My social media feed is full of people cursing my parents, saying they're irresponsible and such.
She wasn't actually sick; she just wanted to find a reason to endlessly ask the original owner for money, to make her feel guilty, and to make the original owner feel sorry for her.
The original owner's unstable emotions led to even greater control over his son, Jiao Zi'ang, creating a vicious cycle.
The original owner's wish was that they could all be well, and that both her children and she could have a good new beginning.
Instead of struggling desperately in repression.
Mo Yan's phone rang, and she opened it to take a look.
Jiao Ziyu: [I'm back. When my mother came back, she found that it was exactly as I had thought. You guys were just bullying my alternate personality.]
How can you be such parents? You're all terrible people. All you do is bully her, isn't that it?
I'm back. You just wait. From now on, she has me to protect her. She doesn't need you anymore. You're all trash.
Mo Yan smiled coldly after seeing it. "Isn't that trash?"
I give her seven or eight thousand a month so she can rent her own place. I give her whatever she wants, but that's not enough. I have to let her scold me until I feel comfortable every day.
This isn't dissociative identity disorder; it's a mental illness.
They haven't experienced the harsh realities of society.
Divorce would be unfair to you. How come he cheated on you and beat your mother, yet your mother is expected to apologize to him and beg him to stay together?
He gives money every month so that the man and his three lovers can have a good time.
The original owner was able to accompany her to school because she was rich.
No, that's not right. Her deceased parents left her a building, and she could live comfortably by collecting rent.
You can't accept divorce? You have a split personality?
The original owner did take her to see a doctor, but whenever the topic of seeing a doctor came up, she would throw a tantrum and say that she was with her father and the original owner had no right to interfere.
But when it comes to money, he never misses a single time.
The other party continued even without a reply.
Jiao Ziyu: [I need five thousand yuan. I need to take her to the hospital. If you won't take care of her, I will.]
Author's note: So I always call my aunt's house when I go there. If my uncle is there, I go, because my uncle cooks especially well.
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