I was born in a secluded village on a mountain. Day by day, my parents plowed the yellow dry soil with their backs towards the sky.
I have a brother who is 3 years younger than me. I wanted to buy a handkerchief, which all girls around me seemed to have. So, one day I stole 50 cents from my father’s drawer. Father had discovered about the stolen money right away.
He made me and my younger brother kneel against the wall as he held a bamboo stick in his hand. “Who stole the money?” he asked. I was stunned, too afraid to talk. Neither of us admitted to the fault, so he said, “Fine, if nobody wants to admit, you two should be beaten!”
He lifted up the bamboo stick. Suddenly, my younger brother gripped father’s hand and said, “Dad, I was the one who did it!” The long stick smacked my brother’s back repeatedly. Father was so angry that he kept on whipping my brother until he lost his breath. After that, he sat down on our stone bed and scolded my brother, “You have learned to steal from your own house now. What other embarrassing things will you be possibly doing in the future? You should be beaten to death, you shameless thief!”