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Pang Zhichun only knew that her mother had eventually left, succumbing to some unknown illness. Pang Zhichun was only ten years old when she passed away. She smiled bitterly… Was it a coincidence? Ten years old… She remembered her seventeen-year-old daughter jumping from the tenth floor…
The system's cold voice echoed in her mind, her head throbbing with pain. When she opened her eyes again, she was in a hospital bed.
Beside her was her good neighbor, Luo An. She stared blankly at the ceiling, her heart aching and her breath catching in her throat. Why did it have to be this way? Giving her hope to live, only to extinguish it with her own hands.
Luo An brought back food, and she learned from him that she had been unconscious for eight days, and that the seventh day after her daughter's death had already passed. She had presided over her daughter's funeral. She was momentarily speechless, her feelings extremely complicated and painful.
Luo An grasped her left hand, his face filled with worry. "Liman, can you cheer up?"
Pang Liman's lips trembled slightly as she listlessly took a sip of porridge: "Thank you, Luo An, I... I will..." She looked down at the snow-white porridge, her feelings complicated. Would she really?
"The doctor said you fainted because you were too sad. You'll be discharged soon after you wake up. Do you want me to stay with you?"
Pang Liman shook her head. "No need."
She quickly packed her things and left the hospital. She thought about it and realized that staying here would only intensify her longing for her parents, so she decided to go to the countryside to see them first.
She returned to her apartment complex, standing wearily at her doorstep, rummaging through her bag for her keys. Just as she was about to put the keys to the lock, a voice suddenly stopped her.
"Are you Ms. Pang?"
Pang Liman was momentarily stunned. Turning her head, she saw a man in a suit standing in the distance, smiling politely. Pang Liman nodded blankly, "I am... and you are?"
The man slowly approached her, a briefcase tucked under his arm. He pulled out a "lawyer's letter" and handed it to her. Pang Liman was even more bewildered, desperately trying to recall if she had done anything wrong.
Seeing her incredulous look, the man forgot that he hadn't explained the situation clearly. He smiled politely and said, "It's like this, my name is Xu Jiang, and I'm a lawyer who handles civil disputes." He then took out a piece of paper, looked at the words on it, and read aloud, "Because your novel 'Mo Li' is 70% similar to 'He Qing An,' the original author has filed a lawsuit after discovering this. Please go to the ×× People's Court."
Pang Liman understood instantly. She nodded and took the lawyer's letter from his hand. "Okay, I understand. I'm sorry to have troubled you to make this trip."
The man gave a professional smile and shook his head. "No trouble at all. The court hearing is next Tuesday. I hope Ms. Pang will not be absent."
"Okay." She gripped the lawyer's letter tightly, opened the door, and after entering, she politely tried to invite the lawyer to have some tea. When he refused, she didn't insist and closed the door.
She walked towards her bedroom and happened to see her daughter's room, a wave of guilt washing over her. She forced herself to look away, quickly entered the bedroom, and drew the curtains.
She hurriedly turned on her computer, opened the novel software, and discovered that she did indeed have this work. She recalled that when she was still in the book, the system kept urging her to create a new book and revise the plot, which she initially wanted to refuse. The system then made things difficult for her again, saying that if she didn't start creating, the story would enter the original plot.
Unwilling to accept this, she created a dozen or so chapters of the story within the system screen. It took her nine years to write seventeen chapters, which was... the years her daughter passed away.
She looked at her work, "Mo Li," and checked the dates of the attacks—all months ago. She didn't want to read the comments section at all; she clicked "Create Article," intending to write Chapter Eighteen.
She doesn't want to stay seventeen! She wants to be eighteen! Just like on her daughter's birthday, not seventeen! She doesn't want her to stay on the dividing line between adulthood and childhood.
She spent a long time finally finishing writing Chapter Eighteen, but clicking "Publish" always showed an "Error." Frustrated, she rushed to customer service to ask why this was happening.
The result was that her account was banned for plagiarizing other people's work, and her work was forced to be taken down.
Pang Liman broke down, covering her face and crying bitterly.
Why is this happening?
She entered her sea of consciousness and kept calling out to the system, thinking that if the system were there, it might be able to help her.
She called out for a long time, but received no response. In the dark bedroom, amidst the lonely atmosphere, her sobs stood out all the more. She curled up in a corner, crystal tears streaming down her cheeks again and again, holding a photograph in her hand.
That was a photo of her and her daughter, and it was their only photo together.
She broke down in tears, crying out, "My daughter!" She pressed the photo tightly against her chest, against her heart.
Tuesday is the court date.
She entered the courtroom on time as the defendant, looking lifeless and noticeably thinner. She appeared to have aged ten years, her spirits were low.
Pang Liman lowered her eyes, already prepared for the worst, and sat down in the defendant's seat. Looking up at the plaintiff, a young woman, Pang Liman instantly stood up, her composure failing her.
"How could it be you!" She would never forget that little girl. It was her! It was her who made her daughter suffer! It was her involvement in school bullying! It caused her daughter to develop psychological problems.
The little girl paused for a moment, squinted at Pang Liman, and then turned her face away to avoid her gaze.
Her emotions, which had just calmed down, instantly collapsed. She slammed her hand on the table and angrily shouted, "Huang Meixin! You killed my daughter! It was you!"
Huang Meixin, feigning victimhood, said, "Auntie, I really didn't hurt Zhichun, please don't make things up!"
Seeing that Pang Linqiu was emotional, the judicial police officer next to her quickly restrained her.
She glared at her angrily, her eyes bloodshot, her face contorted in a grimace: "It's you! It's you! Huang Meixin! What did my daughter do wrong? What did she do wrong?! Why are you treating her like this?" Her voice was gradually filled with grief and rage, "She clearly didn't offend anyone! Why are you isolating her? Spreading rumors about her? Targeting her? Why? Why?!" She hysterically accused her of her crimes.
Huang Meixin was stunned for a moment, then bit her lip and said stubbornly, "Auntie, you didn't..."
"Bang—" The judge on the platform struck the gavel.
"Silence!" the judge shouted sternly.
Huang Meixin was so frightened that she shut her mouth and dared not say another word. However, Pang Liman, who was being held down in her seat by the police officer, was anything but quiet. As if she hadn't heard what the judge on the platform said at all, she kept glaring angrily at Huang Meixin, muttering "You killed her" as if she had gone mad.
Seeing Pang Liman's insane state, the judge sighed and announced, "The defendant is mentally unstable; this court hearing is temporarily postponed."
Pang Liman was forced to leave, and Huang Meixin was stunned for a long time before finally choosing to withdraw the lawsuit.
Pang Liman was taken to the hospital for examination and diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder. Upon learning this, the hospital suspended her work. Luo An, concerned, took her back to her house and decided to stay with her for a few days.
A few days later, Pang Li took some psychiatric medication, smiled, and said she had let go. After seeing Luo An off, she packed up all her belongings, hired a freight company to move them, and prepared to return to her hometown to have some peace and quiet.
Luo An could only wave goodbye and say, "I'll come to see you more often." Watching her leave, Luo An felt an emptiness and sadness in his heart.
A small wooden cabin in the countryside.
Although the wooden house was small, it was full of warmth and the simple folk customs were something she liked very much.
One night, she sat on the floor beside her bed, looking at her daughter's photo, and wept bitterly.
She sobbed softly, murmuring, "Little Spring, Mommy knows she was wrong, please come back......"
"Mom shouldn't have... sent you to the rehabilitation center, shouldn't have ignored your news."
"Your voice and your needs should not be ignored."
She turned on her phone, the glaring screen light reflecting into her eyes, and tapped "Little Spring's" number again and again.
Time and again, the message "Sorry, the number you dialed is not in service..." came through.
She broke down time and time again, reading her final WeChat quotes and her last three letters thousands of times.
In the end, Pang Liman lost two daughters, Zhichun and Zhichun.
One was a healthy daughter born after ten months of pregnancy, but her life ended in loneliness and suffering from verbal abuse.
One was a premature daughter, born eight months into her pregnancy. Because of her different sexual orientation, she suffered from the strange looks of others and ended her life at the young age of seventeen.
She had nothing left, absolutely nothing...
Her daughter was her only hope for life, her only pillar of support, and now she's gone! She has nothing left!
Weaving spring, weaving spring, bidding farewell to summer, autumn's sorrow, winter's longing for spring's return.
She picked up her pen and created a world where her little spring would not suffer cold stares, where no one would bully her, and where no one would be unloved. There was only one flaw: she didn't finish the story, leaving it forever frozen at that one chapter.
She knew she was wrong, but there was nothing she could do to undo it; all she could do was cherish the memory of the photograph day after day.
She shouldn't have sent him to a rehabilitation center, shouldn't have sent her to school, shouldn't have ignored her mental state, and shouldn't have ignored the three phone calls she made before she died.
After thinking for a long time, Pang Liman picked up a bottle of pesticide from the table and drank it all in one gulp.
She adjusted her facial expression, smiled as she looked at the ceiling, and said, "Little Spring, Mom was wrong, please... come back..." Her breath grew weaker.
Everyone is bullying her daughter. In the book, and in real life, why is her daughter always the target of bullying? Why...?
After an unknown amount of time, the system emitted a sound.
"Host death detected. The story will be rewritten by the system..."
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