S "he was born on Aug 8,1969 in Beijing, China. 
Her original name is Wang Jingwen. Childhood, as memory recalls, was uneventfu.My father was a factory engineer, often having to work. My mom was a soprano, always traveling to perform. The family was seldom together, often apart. I was under the watch of the neighbor, god-mother. Although my god-mother has seven children, she loves the cute and cunning me as much as her own. Without the familial love of my mother, I turned my natural dependencies and its related emotions toward my god-mother. Feelings of closeness towards my parents decrease day by day.  Beautiful things seldom last. When my god-mother's daughter bore a baby, my mom thought it best not to disturb her with her new grand-daughter and all. Shortly after, I was sent to a daycare center.  In a large daycare center, surrounded by children of the same age, I was most alone, feeling very sad. Returning home once a week, I would cry when my god-mother returned me to the daycare center,  God-mother would secretly spy on me,and many years later, she says when my little friends are asleep, there is only me, both eyes wide open, silently staring at the ceiling. Finally I got sick with high fever and head full of sores. So painful that I can only lie in bed. When my god-mother knew, emotions overcame her and she took me home. When my head moved, it would hurt, so my god-mother would hold me when I slept. When she saw me turn skinny and fragile, her tears would flow. Today when I remember this, I am moved by her love. Later, my mom quickly sent me to Shanghai to live with my aunt. The two year stay in Shanghai, was my most quiet years in memory. My spirit has been caged! My biggest impression was that my aunt's family was strictly abstemious. Those times in China, no one lived in prosperity. Meat was eaten rarely, and also fruits. We're always eating second rate food, half rotten fruits. But, the funny thing is, after eating the rotten fruits, the other beautifully arranged fruits rotted in a couple of days too. Six years old, I moved from Shanghai back to Beijing. My family was together again. Times were changing, giving me many things to think about. 

Whenever I open the love diaries of my memories, I always see the saga between my mother and me, along with a hundred thousand question marks. When I returned to Beijing, six-year-old me went to grade school. Even though my mom said I've already grown-up, and no longer need to be baby-sat by my god-mother, but just to return to Beijing, to my mother's side, has already made me happy. School starts a new page in a child's life. When I see new things, I fall in love with it at once. In school, among the students, I slowly grew out of the loneliness of the daycare center, revealing my true liveliness and outgoing attitude. Everyday, jumping rope outside class, rubber-band high-jumping, and throwing bean bags, playing without a care. But my mother is very strict, always locking up my independent personality. My home, perhaps became a cage, shapelessly entrapping me. I always wanted to fly away, and that was the thing that separated us. When I was leaving childhoold, my nervous mother was scared that I would learn bad things, always making me stay home after school, never really letting me run outside. Mother thought I was a lady, needed to be graceful, and quiet. Because of this, I grew very scared of my mother, always having to listen to her. I began to secretly slip away to play. Young heart is like fire, once it starts burning it's difficult to stop. There was always nice mom, then angry mom, and she beat me few times. Then beat me like there was no tomorrow.  I did not fight it. I only felt it was unjust. Why does she always hold me back. Back then, I just could not understand her. With my father being away, and a family with only her to lead, she cannot but be nervous, and strictness cover the heart that loves me. Everytime she beats me, we would aways give each other the cold shoulder. My mom and I have the same hard personality, and we're like fire and water, can never get along. Since childhood we were never close. I would never sleep by her side, but with my father, I would sometimes be coquish. After many days of the cold shoulder, my mom would make some of my favorite dishes, and naturally we would become close again. I can say that I can only be persuaded by good. back to top 

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