She was a talented child, possessing the slender fingers that can only belong to a pianist. She was an entitled princess, the privileged daughter of a wealthy businessman. She was happy, living with her father and his lover, whom she called auntie, in a beautiful maison, knowing nothing of the piles of debt her father swept under the rugs.
But like an ethereal bubble, her carefree world burst when her father stepped in front of a car and died.
The maison, the piano, and everything of value were taken, leaving little Liang Mucheng with no one to rely on but the stranger she called auntie.
Auntie tried to abandon Mucheng on the bus, but Mucheng held on. They traveled aimlessly, became hungry, and stole. When they were caught, a local lowlife saved them and took them back to his home. He fed them because he was interested in auntie. Mucheng was disgusted. She tried to leave. But auntie refused. “I’m tired,” auntie said, “I don’t want to live the life where I have to steal to stay alive anymore.” Reluctantly, Mucheng returned to the man’s home and ate the rest of the ramen.
That night, bending over a large basket of dirty dishes, Mucheng bit her lips and tied up her hair, kissing her all-too-brief blithe childhood goodbye.
Continue reading Next Stop, Happiness (Autumn’s Concerto) Episode 1 Recap & Impression