I was born into poverty. As a child, my family couldn’t even afford white flour. I clearly remember when I was 6, my father slapped me so hard across the face that my nose bled because I had stolen half a steamed bun. That steamed bun was meant for distant guests. From that moment on, I harbored resentment toward my harsh father.

Despite the lack of nutrition, it did not hinder my growth. Perhaps favored by Heaven, I blossomed like a flower, growing more radiant and delicate with each passing day. By 16, in my final year of junior high, I had become a graceful and beautiful young woman.

A young, naïve girl enters the big city

One day during the second semester of ninth grade, all the girls were gathered on the playground. Two unfamiliar men wearing glasses scrutinized each of us, making us feel intensely uncomfortable. Later, we learned they were teachers from the county’s public school, specifically recruiting for a hotel management vocational class. In the end, Song Yao from another class and I stood out, becoming the first students of that hotel management vocational program.

When I told my father the news, he was on the mountain, hammering away at a stone with great concentration — my father would load the polished flagstones onto a cart and push them to the road in front of the village to sell to stone dealers. He could earn five yuan a day, which became our family’s main source of income. His hammer froze mid-air, suspended for a long moment before falling. “There’s also a 1,000 yuan tuition fee,” I added. Father picked up the hammer again and gave it a hard whack. “We have it. We have the money.”

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