"Si'er, why is my life so bitter~~"
In a ramshackle earthen-brick house with wind coming in from all four sides, Su Qiao sat on a hard wooden bed that reeked of mildew, staring blankly at the old newspaper pasted over the wooden window, half of it torn away.
That resentful little look and the long-drawn-out ending to her voice all showed how close she was to shutting herself off from the world.
444 lay in the space, legs crossed and swaying them back and forth:
Your life isn't bitter. You're just too hard to kill.
You killed your grandfather the moment you were born, then got your father's leg broken by a rock on your first birthday.
On your fourth birthday, you got your cousin's head smashed open, and he nearly died. On your fifth birthday, you got your uncle's job at the supply cooperative taken away.
Listening to Si'er list all those "achievements" from the past few years, the cracked corners of Su Qiao's mouth twitched nonstop.
"Heh, if my life really is that hard, then why hasn't the Su family been wiped out yet?"
Natural disasters and human misfortunes—everything was blamed on a little child. They really had no shame.
Her grandfather had been working in that gold mine, doing a job that was already a matter of life and death.
A landslide had come down the mountain, the tunnel had collapsed, and he had been buried alive.
How could that possibly be blamed on a newborn baby?
Her father had originally worked in a coal mine and had been struck by a loose rock from the roof of the mine shaft. Wasn't that perfectly normal?
He wasn't even the only person injured by the rock that day.
As for her cousin getting his head smashed open, that