If You Can Do Better, Prove It

I smiled without offering any rebuttal.

The truth didn't need my defense. Those unwilling to believe would never be swayed by my words.

In the simulation, a kind woman donated money to my mother as an act of genuine goodwill.

Instead of gratitude, my mother's immediate response was suspicion. "Where did you get this money? You didn't… sell yourself, did you? I won't touch dirty money!"

She said this while tightly clutching the cash.

Through this benefactor, my mother learned something new—that having an education opened the door to better jobs and bigger paychecks.

The next day, she marched Subject One to school.

She stormed into the principal's office in tears, wailing dramatically, "Even if I have to beg on the streets, my daughter will go to school!"

The audience watching this scene on the big screen was visibly moved. Some even whispered their admiration.

I remained silent, my smile unwavering.

"That poor woman," someone murmured, "to sacrifice so much for her daughter."

"She may have hit her daughter, but those were just desperate acts born of financial pressure," another commented.

"At least she recognizes the importance of education now. She's trying her best."

The screen continued to play out the simulation.

On Subject One's first day of school, she happened to arrive during the flag-raising ceremony. My mother, as if on cue, collapsed dramatically on the school's athletic field, sobbing and pleading with the teachers to take special care of her daughter.

"I'm poor, but my heart is rich," she cried, grabbing at one teacher's pants.

Unable to fully grasp what was happening, Subject One mimicked her, clutching at the teacher's trousers with equal fervor.

The teachers, flustered, handed over donations to make her leave. Only then did my mother finally stand up, dusting herself off with an air of triumph.

Patting Subject One's back, she declared, "What I did today, humiliating myself in front of everyone, was for you. Remember this when you grow up. Don't forget the debt you owe me."

The audience watching grew quiet, uneasy.

After a long pause, someone finally spoke. "You know, people who don't care about saving face often get further in life. Pride can hold you back."

"Maybe Subject One will overcome everything and succeed," another ventured hesitantly.

The murmurs of agreement were sparse. Most simply cast sympathetic glances in my direction.

I thought back to my own childhood. My mother's constant refrain had been how hard her life was. She was always the victim, and I, the ungrateful daughter who owed her everything.

Back then, I had believed her. I worked hard in school, fantasizing about one day buying her a big house and giving her a comfortable life.

But as I grew older, especially by middle school, I began to understand things differently. That was when my sense of self-respect kicked in—and when the real pain began.

The simulation fast-forwarded through Subject One's elementary school years.

Thanks to regular donations from the kind woman, and a janitorial job the school arranged for my mother, my mother and Subject One managed to scrape by.

Though the teachers were cold to Subject One and she had no friends, she made it through.

Against the odds, Subject One graduated with decent grades and secured a spot in an advanced class at the county's top middle school.

The audience exhaled collectively.

"See? Hard work pays off," someone said with relief.

"She's determined," another chimed in.

"She'll definitely do better than her daughter. Mark my words."

"That's right! Subject One has a strong will and isn't easily swayed by external factors."

My husband scoffed audibly, sneering at me. "If I'd known the truth about your family, I wouldn't have married you."

My son wrinkled his nose in disgust. "It's so embarrassing to have a mom like you. You grew up poor, and now you're dragging me into your mess!"

"Don't worry," I said dryly. "You'll have your turn."

On the screen, my mother's version of my life continued.

Middle school tuition was waived, but there were still book fees, boarding costs, and monthly living expenses.

Just as she seemed to be considering how to manage these expenses, an unexpected opportunity presented itself.

A wealthy family proposed a betrothal.

Accepting it would mean an enormous dowry—and the end of my mother's financial struggles.