Chapter 3

"Mom has been a teacher her entire life, and she's taught so many students," her voice began to tremble. "I always wanted, always wanted to prove through my own child that my education was right, that it was successful."

"Our expectations for you were too high... too high. Seeing you so ordinary, we worried, we feared... feared that we weren't doing enough."

"Please... Lily..."

I saw the desperate yearning behind her tears.

In that moment, I suddenly understood everything.

They didn't love me; they loved the perfect educational dream they wanted me to fulfill.

My chest felt squeezed by something, a bitter, swelling ache.

But it was okay.

I loved them.

"I understand."

That sour feeling got stuck in my throat, but I swallowed it down.

"If that's what you want..."

I looked at the silver box and slowly nodded.

"I'm willing."

For the sake of the perfect daughter in your minds.

I could stop being me.

The chip implantation went smoothly.

When I woke up, I didn't immediately feel any different.

I was still me.

The only change was that I could no longer say no to my parents' demands.

If they told me to get up at six to memorize vocabulary, I got up at six.

If they told me to do three practice tests a day, I did three practice tests.

If they told me to go to piano and advanced math on the weekend, I grabbed my backpack and went.

My grades started to improve rapidly.

My monthly exam ranking shot from twentieth into the top ten.

Mom held my report card, her eyes gleaming.

"That's wonderful!" She stroked my head. "This is our good daughter."

And to reward me, she suddenly suggested, "Come on, Mom's taking you to get burgers. Didn't you always beg for them?"

I paused.

I had vague memories of that, tugging on her sleeve, standing in front of a brightly lit red sign, pleading for a burger.

Only to be pulled away without explanation.

She said it was junk food.

Now, she was proactively taking me there.

We sat in the bright restaurant.

She pushed a tray towards me, holding a golden burger, fries, and a soda.

"Eat," she said, smiling, with a warm anticipation in her eyes.

I looked at the burger.

A pale blue analysis interface automatically appeared in my vision: [High calories, saturated fatty acids exceeding limits, insufficient dietary fiber. Recommended intake: zero.]

I looked up and replied in a steady voice, "According to the health management program analysis, this is junk food and detrimental to health."

"I decline to consume it."

Mom's smile froze on her face.

She looked at me for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed again, this time more heartily. "Right, right, right, can't eat it! See how useful this system is? It helps you control your cravings! So good!"

She seemed very happy, took the burger back, and ate it herself.

I sat quietly until she finished.

When we got home, she said she would make me soup, the lotus root and pork rib soup I used to love most.

She bustled around in the kitchen.

I followed my directives, sitting at the dining table and waiting.

Suddenly, with a clang, followed by Mom's sharp intake of breath.

She had accidentally knocked over the pot lid, and hot water splashed out, reddening the back of her hand.

She frowned, instinctively putting her hand under the faucet to rinse it, then glanced back at me.

I remained seated, looking straight ahead, my face maintaining the calm expression programmed into me.

Her frown deepened.

"Lily," her voice held a hint of suspicion. "Mom burned her hand, didn't you see?"