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墨書 Inktalez
they left in disappointment, but after a few steps, they turned back.
The two elderly people squatted in front of me, their kind faces marked by the passage of time. They spoke softly, "Child, we are your maternal grandparents. We have come to take you home."
At that moment, I looked up at them, my eyes filled with confusion and unease, unsure of how to respond. Perhaps they thought I was silent out of fear, so they took out a yellowed photograph from their pocket.
In the photo was a young woman with a radiant smile; that was my mother. They shared her story, each word like warm sunlight shining into my cold heart. I felt a surge of emotion within me, but the scars on my body and the fear deep in my soul made it hard for me to accept this sudden affection.
They called my name repeatedly: "Zixuan, come home with us." Each call felt like a gentle knock, trying to open the tightly shut door of my heart. My heart trembled as memories flooded back; those ugly scars were not only etched on my skin but also imprinted deep within my soul.
I longed to tell them that I was their long-lost granddaughter. Yet every time I tried to speak, it felt as if an invisible hand was choking my throat, rendering me voiceless. My grandparents seemed to see through my struggle; with red-rimmed eyes, they held me tightly and choked out, "Child, you are our granddaughter."
It turned out they had already confirmed my identity through various clues and were just waiting for my acknowledgment. In that moment,
I felt an unprecedented sense of security. They brought me back to the city, with its tall buildings and bustling traffic; everything felt both familiar and strange to me. I once thought I would never see such a scene again in my life.
Even though I had returned to my family, and despite my efforts to study and try to move on from the shadows of my past, those painful memories always lingered. Until one day, a fabricated video went viral online. In the video, my grandmother was in tears, accusing me of being unfilial, claiming she had a terminal illness and longed to see her daughter one last time. The words in the video were so emotionally charged that they quickly caught the attention of internet users.
People began searching for "An Zixuan," trying to seek justice for this "poor old woman." Suddenly, my life was thrown into chaos; I could feel strange gazes wherever I went. Even at the market while buying groceries, I would be pointed at and faced unwarranted accusations.
I remember one time at the market when an older woman suddenly pointed at me and said, "You heartless girl! Your grandmother is in that state, and you still won't come to take care of her." Unable to endure it any longer, I replied, "What do you know?" They immediately retorted, "Young lady, how can you say that? That's your grandmother!"
I didn't want to waste any more words with them and went straight home. But incidents like this happened repeatedly, making it nearly impossible for me to live normally.
I felt an overwhelming sense of anger and helplessness, but I knew that silence was not the answer. I dug out the old photos left to me by my grandparents, as well as the testimony from a survivor of the Human Trafficking Incident. These pieces of evidence were crucial in revealing the truth. I decided to stop avoiding the situation and face it bravely; I would use this evidence to prove my innocence.
After a struggle, the account that posted the false video was eventually shut down, and the truth came to light. My life finally returned to normal. Years later, I successfully enrolled in Communication University and became a journalist. I interviewed a family who lost their child due to a medical accident; their tears and pain seemed like a reflection of my own past experiences. I wrote their story into a report, which ultimately prompted the relevant authorities to intervene and seek justice for the victims.
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