$TRUMP

I returned to my hometown in a shabby imitation dog, my last year's Land Rover replaced by a second-hand Hongguang; the village chief said I had entered the wrong village, and my parents wanted me to kneel in the ancestral hall; the village beauty, Xiao Mei, stood at the door looking out, the once fiery tenderness turned into icy indifference; at the banquet, they told me to stand and not speak, with big fish and meat placed farthest from me; my elder brother pounded the table and shouted, "What are you doing back here to embarrass yourself after losing so much?" The uncles watched coldly with their wine glasses, only old Wang next door forced a smile and tried to mediate; my cousin secretly took a photo with her phone, posting it on Moments to mock me as a 'wasteful son'. Late at night, returning to the dilapidated mud house, I couldn't help but shed two lines of hot tears looking at my account.