Live For Myself

I was slammed heavily onto the table, and the simmering carp soup on the stove spilled all over me. The scalding broth soaked through my thin shirt in an instant, like being pricked by a thousand hot needles. Blisters immediately formed on my exposed arms, swelling into transparent bubbles filled with a pale yellow fluid.

The pain was excruciating, as if someone were branding my skin inch by inch with a hot iron.

I could distinctly feel the rapid necrosis of my skin under the intense heat, with the nerve endings frantically sending pain signals to my brain.

I clenched my teeth, determined not to scream—I refused to show weakness in front of Zhou Zhe, and I definitely didn't want him to see me in such a miserable state.

The soup trickled down my body, pooling into a greasy puddle on the floor. The air was thick with the nauseating smell of fish soup mixed with the burnt odor of scalded skin. My shirt clung to me, and even the slightest movement tugged at my burns, causing cold sweat to break out on my forehead.

The pain left my mind blank, and the world around me began to blur. My ears buzzed as if a thousand bees were beating their wings against my eardrums. I struggled to stand, but my legs felt as heavy as lead. As I was trying to get up, I heard Zhou Yan's shrill scream.

"Ah Zhe! Ah Zhe, what's wrong with you?" Her voice was piercing, like it could shatter my eardrums.

I turned my head with difficulty and saw Zhou Zhe slumped in our mother's arms, his eyes closed, his face as pale as a ghost. His body trembled slightly, and his lips were a purplish hue, as if he had been greatly frightened. But I knew it was all an act. In the past, he always did this whenever things didn't go his way, using it as a distraction to shift everyone's focus.

Sure enough, my parents' attention immediately turned to Zhou Zhe. Our mother held him, tears falling like a torrent. "Ah Zhe, Ah Zhe, wake up! Don't scare your mother!"

My father's face turned red with anger as he glanced at me, his eyes filled with anger and disappointment. "Look at what you've done!"

I wanted to explain, to tell them that Zhou Zhe had stepped on my foot first, and I had only pushed him away instinctively. But when I opened my mouth, it felt like something was stuck in my throat, and I couldn't utter a single word. It wasn't the pain that silenced me, but the coldness of my heart.

In their eyes, I was always the culprit, always the bad child who bullied his brother. Even now, covered in injuries and on the verge of passing out from the pain, they wouldn't spare me a glance.

Zhou Zhe fainted in our mother's arms, limp like a rag doll. But I noticed that, from an angle invisible to everyone else, the corners of his mouth were slightly upturned. It was a triumphant smile, the joy of seeing me in agony.

"Quick! Get him to the hospital!" my father decided immediately, scooping Zhou Zhe up and rushing out the door.

Our mother followed, stumbling, tears still flowing. She didn't even pause to look at me as she passed by. In her heart, a single strand of Zhou Zhe's hair was more important than my entire being.

Zhou Yan was the last to leave. She stood at the doorway, turning back to glare at me with a look full of hatred. Her eyes were daggers, as if they wished to pierce holes through me.

"Are you satisfied now?" Her voice was icy, devoid of any warmth.