I've never hated someone like this before. My parents separated around 2007. I hardly remember Dad, only their constant fights. Then Mum would cry and cry. When would she stop? I sat alone in my room. When she got tired of crying, she'd pull my ears and call me ungrateful, find mistakes in my homework and scream. Everything was my fault. If I hadn't been born, she wouldn't have this life. Dad watched TV in silence, then looked at me with contempt: "Why the long face all the time?" That was an ordinary day.

Maybe they named me that because they wanted a smiling little clown to make their hopeless lives look less awful. When they finally divorced, I happily packed my things. I probably smiled more that day than any other. Haha. Mum and I moved into a big house with a new dad and a slightly older sister. Until then, family meant a filthy, noisy house. Now I discovered we didn't have to eat leftovers until they spoiled. Asking for a sausage didn't earn a scolding. Forgetting to make the bed didn't earn a beating.

Mum's temper improved. She still ignored or insulted me, but didn't pull my ears every day. And my sister defended me: "Xiaoxiao has already done really well."

What is happiness? I honestly had no idea. Teachers said my pictures were muddy and dull. But those were the colors of my sky, my house, my clothes. Bright colors and innocent happiness were creatures I'd never seen. Before my sister, I thought I'd never be happy. Nobody had ever said I'd done well. All I knew was being put down.

I loved my sister. She accepted me from the start, shared everything, took me out, and tutored me before I transferred to her school. When children cut in front of me at the park, she stood up for me. She was kind.

"I'll protect you from now on," she said. Better than Mum. More like a mother. For the first time, a bright color entered my memory: the vivid yellow hair tie she wore when she said it.

Then one day she went cold. I knew why. After Mum pulled my ears again, my sister caught me urinating in Mum's bedtime milk. I'll never forget her face: shock, disgust, then she turned away. I knocked the milk over, spilling it across the bathroom. I screamed, not caring whether our parents heard. She didn't look back. She went into her room and shut the door. After that, she was cold to me.

Even through the winter holiday, she barely spoke to me, except for an icy "Happy New Year." On the drive to school, while our parents chatted happily, I sat beside her trembling and asked if she would forgive me. I kept saying I was wrong.

She only said, "I'm so disappointed. I thought you were just withdrawn, but still a good child."

I cried. She still ignored me.

We were in different classes. I went to look through her classroom door. Then I started looking through her phone and computer while she was out. I found her chatting with her Computer Club friends. They were so close.

I felt sick. Why? All the care she'd given me, she'd given to them. She despised me, just like Mum.

I hated her too. With that thought, I submitted my Computer Club application.

I'm dreaming. My sister is running on a track I drew for her.

She stops, exhausted. She'll realize she can't save everyone. Not even one person. She isn't as strong as she thinks.

I laugh, then stop. It isn't very interesting.

She'll remember we were close once. Not siblings by blood, but we held hands and ate mango ice lollies. We skipped long-distance running together in PE. When she gave a speech, I presented her award.

Too tired to run, she falls, her cheek against my dead face. The ground is made from all the bodies of me who died for my mistakes.

Mistakes against Mum, Dad, my sister, Chen Yang. Mistakes against friends and strangers, born of countless ugly impulses. Each version of me was punished and died here. None disappear. They keep piling up.

My sister reaches toward a door that appears from nowhere.

I open it for her.

The light inside is blinding. She draws her hand back, trembling. Beyond it is a sunny day. Shadows of leaves sway over her flushed, pale face. I can't describe the look in her open eyes.

Distant laughter and noise drift out. Blue, pink, orange, like the stars we drew. The sky is no longer dirty water clouded with spilled paint.

Shadows flicker in her eyes, sharp in the light: her club friends running and playing. Then Chen Yang falls from the building again and lands in the doorway. An outstretched hand, broken legs, a shattered head. Exactly like the real thing. My sister reaches for him.

I watch from outside. They lie on the ground holding hands. Chen Yang's lifeless face becomes mine. I'm not afraid. My bodies are already everywhere here.

Watching my sister hold the hand of another dead me, I suddenly forgive her. I forgive Chen Yang too.

Maybe we don't have to hate each other.

I meant to ask how she felt, to laugh at her helplessness. But I couldn't say anything.

Maybe I thought of Chen Yang as a friend too. We were close this year, playing cards and games together. Sometimes I even forgot I wanted to hurt him.

But I still copied his handwriting, wrote insults about everyone, and put that notebook in Zhou Jiayi's desk. Then they hated him, excluded him, beat him. Then he died.

What have I done? Maybe my sister was right: she wasn't the only person I could lean on. Memories return, the year with those eight friends flashing past. Happiness had reached out to me in the computer room at dusk. But now it's too late.

Yet there is still a chance. As long as we're alive, we can change.

My sins are heavy, so I was made into a lamp. I burn constantly. Every moment hurts.

My sister will finally understand. She will forgive me. The god has lit her as a lamp beside the bed too. Now we're the same.

One day we'll find release, and sleep together in forgiveness.

Then everyone will return to where they belong, questioning whether the periodic table is complete and looking up at unreachable stars.

That's what people do. Commit crimes, love each other, make art, make despair.