Chapter 1

My whole family has amnesia.

My dad always forgets to send me my living expenses every month.

My mom forgets to pay me back every time I cover something for her.

Whenever I remind them, my parents act like they've just had an epiphany.

"Look at my memory—getting old makes me forgetful."

I always thought they were genuinely getting forgetful with age.

Until I accidentally discovered the study abroad fund account my parents set up for my brother.

Every single deposit was accurate to two decimal places, and never once delayed.

That's when I realized my parents' so-called amnesia only applied to me.

My parents both have severe amnesia.

Every week at the end of the month is my fixed call time with my dad.

More accurately, it's the time when I remind my dad to send my living expenses.

"Dad, next month's living expenses..."

This time was no exception. A week had already passed, and my dad still forgot to send my living expenses.

The call connected, and I heard the sound of my dad slapping his forehead.

"Look at my memory—I forgot again! Dad will definitely transfer it tomorrow, won't forget this time for sure."

I didn't say anything. After all, this scene had been playing out in our family for three whole years.

Since my freshman year, my dad forgets to send my living expenses every single month.

My mom has amnesia too.

Every time I advance payment for her purchases, she forgets to transfer the money back to me.

Once she had me buy a cashmere sweater for her—the price was $239.90.

Another time it was several health supplements as gifts, $63 per box.

Recently she had me buy the latest sneakers for my brother—$139.90.

...

"I don't have much money on hand right now. You buy it first, I'll pay you back later, okay?"

I paid.

But she never transferred the money.

The day the cashmere sweater arrived, my mom posted photos in the family chat and @my brother, saying:

"What my son picked out is so warm!"

When I really had no money left to eat, I tactfully messaged her:

"Mom, does the cashmere sweater fit?"

She replied instantly: "Perfect fit! I want to buy one for your grandma too. Help me buy another one."

I told her I had no money left.

Only then did Mom have her epiphany and say she'd definitely transfer the money next time.

But I never knew when "next time" actually was.

Right up until three months ago, when I needed appendicitis surgery.

Late at night, I curled up on a plastic chair in the hallway clutching my abdomen, cold sweat soaking my shirt. The nurse was urging me to pay the fees.

I called my mom.

"Mom, I need money right now. I'm at..."

Before I could finish, she cut me off.