"I'll give our little brother a hundred million!"
2
The good times didn't last long; a fierce storm ruined this year's harvest.
The atmosphere at home turned cold and oppressive.
Dad sat in the yard, smoking his pipe all through the night, while Mom sighed on the bed.
I knew they were worried about my unborn brother.
So, I became even more reticent, diligently doing chores, careful not to provoke the adults' ire.
Even the little free time I had was spent picking fruits on the mountain or fishing in the river to earn some money to help with household expenses.
When I finally handed over the money I had saved up to my parents, a flicker of light appeared in my mother's dim eyes; her brow relaxed slightly, and she showed a faint smile.
It was only then that I could slightly ease my worries, thinking that as long as I was a bit more sensible and worked a little more complicated, things would surely get better.
But bad things still happened.
That day, after cutting grass for the pigs and returning home, I put down my basket and looked around the house but couldn't find Amber.
"Amber, Amber!"
The midday sun outside was fiercely hot, casting a stark, blinding glare, while cicadas screeched tirelessly.
The main hall was empty, and Amber, who should have been playing in the back room, was nowhere to be seen.
A sudden emptiness gripped my heart, and a fine, cold sweat broke out on my palms and soles as I frantically searched from room to room.
"What's all the noise about? I guess you're full and have the energy! Go wash the clothes." My mom, clutching her waist, emerged from the kitchen on the side, her eyebrows tightly furrowed.
A sudden realization thundered in my head. My hands, hanging by my sides, couldn't stop trembling. I almost collapsed to the ground, swallowing hard. "Where's Amber?"
My mom passed by me, paused, and looked down with a gaze that held no evasion. "Dead," she said, then averted her gaze and stepped into the inner room. "You're just despicable, not destined for better."
"Go wash the clothes, or you won't have dinner tonight."
Her voice floated from the inner room, airy and tinged with a hint of pride, a hint of relief.
Despite our poor home, I thought we were always a family, that they at least loved us, though they loved my brother more.
It turns out that wasn't the case. Amber and I could be discarded at any time, unloved.