The Red and Black Wheel

On New Year's Eve, burning with a hundred-and-four-degree fever, I coughed up blood and begged my mother to take me to the hospital.

She still produced that spinning wheel.

The old rule: if it lands on red, we go! If it lands on black, shut up!

I was the true daughter, swapped at birth.

The night I came home, my mother said that from then on, all family matters would be decided by this red and black spinning wheel. It was the fairest way, she claimed.

I nodded, full of hope.

But for three whole years, thousands of spins, my sister always landed on red, and I, always on black.

Not only did all the beautiful jewelry and the sunny room go to her, but even when I was sick in bed, wanting a sip of water, I had to wait for her cartoon to finish.

I gripped the edge of the wheel, my fingers trembling with fever.

This time, I wanted to live.

In the last split second, as the pointer was about to slide to black, I used all my strength to press my index finger against the back.

For the first time, it stopped on the red section.

"I landed on"

"Daisy!" My eldest brother seized my wrist. "Even if your luck is bad, you can't cheat!"

My second brother shoved me to the ground: "You came back with your bloodline, only to learn such despicable tricks?"

My third brother broke my finger: "Being biological, you should follow the rules even more."

They left merrily.

I lay on the cold floor, watching fireworks explode outside the window. So red was truly beautiful.

I'm sorry.

In my next life I will definitely try hard to land on red.

I could still hear them as they prepared to leave.

"Pearl, is your scarf on? It's cold outside."

My mother's voice was impossibly gentle. "The private dining room for New Year's Eve dinner is all set up, with pink balloons everywhere. You'll love it, I'm sure."

"Really? Mom knows me best!"

My second brother chuckled, joining in: "Tonight, Dad even specially ordered a New Year's Eve cake with your favorite ballerina sugar figurine on top."

My third brother's voice was full of indulgence: "Little princess, the head chef at the French restaurant heard you were coming and specially prepared your favorite caramel crme br?le tart, a three-tiered one."

"That's great! What about my New Year's gift?" Pearl's voice was sickly sweet.

"It's all in the car."

My eldest brother said with a smile, "Tonight is a night of reunion. Whatever our Pearl wants, she gets."

Footsteps moved towards the door, the rustle of coats filling the air.

Not a single person looked back towards the living room. Not a single person remembered that someone was still lying on the floor.

Every time the wheel landed on black, my mother remained perfectly calm.

"The probabilities are fifty-fifty. If your luck is bad, who can you blame?"

"People with bad luck don't deserve good things."

She had said these words countless times.

But what was luck?

I remembered when I first came home three years ago, my mother took out that red and black spinning wheel.

"Daisy, you're my biological child, Mommy loves you."

She knelt down to look me in the eye. "But Pearl has also been with us for ten years. For absolute fairness, from now on, all family matters will be decided by the spinning wheel, okay?"

A one-in-two chance.

I nodded vigorously, my eyes full of light.

The first time.

In late autumn, the cuff of my only sweater had a hole.

As the cold wind seeped in, I quietly said, "Mom, can I have five dollars to buy some yarn? I'll mend it myself."

Mom was trying on a cashmere coat for Pearl and didn't even turn her head: "Five dollars isn't money? Let the wheel decide."

The pointer stopped on black.

My second brother scoffed: "Such a pauper. Pearl's coat is enough to buy you a cartful of yarn."

Later, I tied a piece of discarded red ribbon around the hole and was laughed at in school for a whole week.

The second time.

I clutched my test paper, my palms sweating.

"Mom, I got first place."

The dinner table fell silent for a moment.

Dad grunted an "hmm," and continued to serve Pearl shrimp.

"Alright, what do you want this time?" Mom wiped her mouth.

"A ten-dollar workbook"

"Old rules."

My third brother put an arm around Pearl, smiling grandly: "Hear that? Our true scholar is right here. Your first place was probably just a blind squirrel finding a nut."

The pointer stopped on black again.

That test paper was tucked into the bottom of my bookshelf, never to be taken out again.

...

The 825th time, when the news of Grandma Willows passing came, I stood on the stairs, my blood running cold.

"Mom, I want to go back and say goodbye to Grandma"

"Enough!"

She cut me off. "The dead cannot return to life. What's the point of going back? It's unlucky!"

My third brother rushed in, phone in hand, his face beaming with excitement: "Mom! Pearl won first prize in the piano competition!"

Mom's impatience instantly turned to ecstasy: "Really? What reward do you want, sweetie?"

Dad also came out of the study: "We should definitely celebrate."

My second brother had, at some point, brought over the spinning wheel.

"Spin it."

He placed it on the coffee table. "If it lands on red, you can go."

I looked at the distinct red and black wheel for a long time.

My fingertip hovered above the pointer, trembling, but ultimately didn't descend.

That night, I kowtowed three times towards the direction of the countryside, standing before the spinning wheel until midnight.

Because I knew the outcome.

It would definitely be black.

Always black.

The door closed.

The joyous sounds of reunion were completely cut off.

Inside, the house was deadly silent, save for my gradually weakening breaths and the festive crackle of firecrackers from other homes outside the window.

The moment the pain vanished, I floated up.

Looking down, a small body was curled on the floor.

Faded, worn pajamas, the right index finger bent at a strange angle, and on the pale face, un-dried tear streaks.

That was me.

Thirteen-year-old Daisy, no longer breathing.

It turned out some people were born to be held in the family's palms, with even the New Year's Eve cake figurines prepared to their liking.

Some people were born only to lie on a cold floor, their deaths silent and unnoticed.

I don't know how long it was,

The door was pushed open again.

Mother and daughter walked in, wearing identical cashmere coats.

Pearl wore a dazzling diamond necklace around her neck; it was the welcome gift my grandmother had given me when I first came home.

Because the spinning wheel landed on black, Mom said, "Such precious jewelry isn't fitting for you," so it ended up around Pearl's neck.

Pearl lifted her skirt and knelt, her voice innocent: "The floor is so dirty why is Sister still lying here?"

My eldest brother frowned: "Country folk are just like that. When they're tired, they lie down anywhere, regardless of cleanliness."

My third brother lazily chimed in: "That's why, even if Pearl isn't biological, she has an inherent grace. While some people, well, genes can't change that inherent peasant air."

Pearl curiously touched my face, but quickly recoiled.

She gasped: "Mom! Sister's face it's colder than ice!"

Mom's movement of taking off her coat froze.

For some inexplicable reason.

I felt a faint sense of anticipation.

I wondered what their reaction would be when they discovered I was dead.

Mom walked over. She first saw my twisted finger, her expression momentarily taken aback: "Her finger why is it bent like that?"

My third brother leaned against the entryway, saying casually: "I broke it."

Mom glared at him, with a hint of anger: "You really don't know your own strength. She's still your sister, after all!"

I floated in the air, staring blankly at her.

A warmth spread through my heart.

I knew it, Mom still loved me.

But it didn't matter anymore, I couldn't feel pain.

My third brother raised his chin: "Mom, you set the rules yourself. Cheating deserves punishment. Pearl remembers it and always follows it obediently. Is it really fair to her if you indulge Daisy?"

Mom's lips moved, then she turned to look at Pearl.

The young girl bit her lip, her eyes slightly red, like a startled bunny.

In that instant, Mom's voice softened: "Alright, just remember not to do it in front of Pearl next time. She's easily frightened."

That flicker of emotion, sparked by me, was like a pebble thrown into a deep pond, creating only a trivial ripple.

Mom reached out, but didn't check my breath.

Instead, she poked my shoulder with disgust: "Daisy, get up."

"Playing dead, are we?" She kicked my shoulder with the tip of her high heel. "To avoid the family dinner, to make us feel guilty, you're full of tricks! You'll stoop to any despicable means."

My second brother picked up the glass cup from the coffee table, his wrist flicking.

Scalding water splashed half my face.

"Can you wake up now? Can you stop always using such cheap tricks to get attention?"

Water droplets rolled down my temples into my collar, yet my eyelashes didn't even flicker.

Pearl retreated a small step, timidly saying: "Mom, I feel like, Sister seems really unwell."

To soothe Pearl's wounded spirit.

My second brother patted her back and tucked an exquisite gift box into her arms.

"Good Pearl, big brother knows you have a kind heart, but some people are just born to play the victim and aren't worthy of sympathy at all."

Mom rubbed Pearl's head: "The more you indulge her, the worse she'll get next time. Today she's playing dead, tomorrow she'll hang herself. She just wants to force us to apologize by doing this."

My third brother scoffed along: "This afternoon she was making such a fuss about going to the hospital, now she's just lying here like a corpse. What else can she do besides upsetting the family and ruining the atmosphere?"

Perhaps wanting to end this farce quickly.

Mom crouched down and fiercely pinched my philtrum.

Even when my lips turned white from her grip, I remained motionless.

She completely lost her patience.

Raising her hand, she slapped me across the face.

"If I had known you were such a stubborn and malicious person, I never should have softened and brought you back!"

Just then, Pearl's sweet voice came from upstairs: "Mommy, look, isn't the new dress second brother bought me pretty?"

That voice was like magic.

The anger on Mom's face instantly melted away like snow.

"Sweetheart, Mommy's coming."

After a few steps, she suddenly turned back and dragged me up from the floor.

"Daisy, listen carefully! In this family, Pearl came first, then you. Bloodline means nothing! Don't think that just because you're biological, you can do whatever you want."

My head fell back limply, my eyes half-open, pupils dilated and lifeless, staring at the ceiling.

She stared into my unfocused eyes, as if wanting to see submission and fear there.

But I was already dead; I couldn't give any reaction.

This seemed to infuriate Mom. She grabbed my collar, warning me fiercely: "Know your place! If you dare to have crooked thoughts and compete with Pearl again you can go back to your village!"

She let go.

My head, losing its support, hit the floor with a "thud."

She didn't look back, clip-clopping upstairs in her high heels.

My second brother kicked me: "On New Year's, who are you putting on this deathly display for? That's enough."

My third brother, smiling, pulled out his phone and pressed the shutter button.

"A souvenir. Next time you pretend, I'll let everyone see what kind of person the real daughter of the Sterling family is in private."

Finally, it was my eldest brother.

He stood there watching me for a long time, so long that I thought he would discover something.

Finally, he sighed.

Reluctantly, he dragged me back to my room and threw me onto the bed.

Before leaving, he stood at the doorway and said, as if offering charity: "Daisy, if your finger hurts too much to bear, come find me, but don't alarm Pearl. I can send you to the hospital without going through the spinning wheel. However, the medical expenses will be deducted from your next month's allowance. You caused this trouble yourself, so you bear the consequences, understand?"

I answered over and over: "Brother, thank you, but I'm already dead now. I don't need to go to the hospital"

But he would never hear it.

The door closed.

Outside the window, fireworks bloomed, firecrackers popped, full of festive cheer.

Next door, the family was joyous, laughing heartily, so lively.

Only I, floating alone in the air, was dead and no one knew.

I'm sorry.

In my heart, I whispered to the me who, three years ago, first walked into this house, looked up at the crystal chandelier, and thought I had finally found a home.

See?

Pearl is the best, obedient daughter.

And I, even being biological.

In their hearts, I was just a stranger with the title of "true daughter."

The next morning, Dad walked through the door, looking travel-worn.

He spent years developing overseas business, only returning for holidays. In his hands, he carried two gift boxes, one large and one small.

"Daddy!" Pearl, like a cheerful butterfly, flew into his arms. "What good things did you bring me again?"

Dad smiled, ruffled her hair, and scanned the living room: "Where's Daisy? How come she didn't come out to get my slippers this time?"

Mom, who was brewing tea, paused: "On New Year's, she insists on competing with Pearl. I said a few words to her yesterday, and now she's probably sulking in her room."

Dad frowned, but didn't ask further.

He pointed to the two gift boxes: "Brought New Year's gifts for the children. The big one is Bulgari's new limited edition jewelry set, which took a lot of connections to get. The small one is a souvenir keychain I bought casually at the airport."

Million-dollar jewelry, and a keychain worth at most five dollars. The disparity was comically vast.

"Daddy! This one must be for me, right?" Pearl pounced on the opulent large gift box.

Dad gently chided: "Pearl, don't be silly. You know, our family always emphasizes fairness."

Then, he solemnly took out the spinning wheel and placed it on the coffee table: "Still the old rule. Spin to red, take the large one. Spin to black, take the small one."

Mom shouted towards my room: "Doesn't someone always complain we're biased? If you don't come spin the wheel, then I'm letting your sister spin it, okay? Don't you dare cry later and say the whole family ganged up to bully you!"

"I'll spin it, I'll spin it! The result is always the same anyway." Pearl happily ran over.

She flicked the pointer, and it began to spin.

Dad watched with a smile, Mom with doting eyes, and my brothers with an air of certainty.

Only I, floating in the air, teared up uncontrollablyI really was just as Mom said, naughty and stubborn, still foolishly dreaming of landing on red even after death.

Unwilling, I leaned over the spinning wheel, trying to flick it, blowing with all my might.

Perhaps heaven also pitied me, the pointer slowed down, trembling as it approached black

Then, it stopped.

The living room was silent for a moment.

I froze, then was overcome with wild joy, jumping up excitedlyOh my god! Red was finally mine!

But I was already dead, and such precious jewelry would be a waste to be buried with me. It was better for Pearl to wear it.

I thought to myself.

It seemed I really just had bad luck. Had I misunderstood them? They actually hadn't been biased all this time.

Mom suddenly grabbed Pearl's wrist and examined it, then said in surprise: "No wonder. My sweet Pearl, where's the magnet on your bracelet? It's gone?"

I felt like I had been struck by lightning.

A magnet?

So, Pearl's bracelet had a magnet hidden inside?

Three whole years, thousands of blacks.

I had knelt countless times, praying, secretly practicing in the dead of night, thinking it was my lowly fate, that I was despised by the gods, that I didn't deserve a shred of special favor

"I don't know." Pearl pouted, looking aggrieved. "Daddy, Sister isn't here anyway. Can can this time not count?"

Dad's face showed some difficulty.

Just then, my brothers exchanged glances.

My eldest brother immediately understood, walked over, and gave a gentle flick, and the pointer landed steadily in the red section.

"See, it's clearly red."

My eldest brother's tone was flat.

"Oh yeah!" Pearl cheered. "Thank you, Daddy! Thank you, big brother!"

Dad nodded with a smile: "It seems the gods still favor our Pearl."

Mom also smiled: "Yes, Pearl always has good fortune."

The family was harmonious, as if that little "accident" had never happened.

A profound sense of desolation and absurdity swallowed me.

So in this family.

Not only were the rules flexible, but even luck could be manual.

After dinner, my third brother lost a game, and his punishment was to bring me food.

He stood up, his face full of disgust, "I'm not going! It's bad luck."

Pearl pouted playfully: "A bet is a bet, brother~"

My second brother immediately frowned: "Go quickly and come back quickly. Would you really upset Pearl for that annoying person?"

My third brother stood up irritably: "Tsk This is so annoying."

Two minutes later, he threw a bowl of leftovers onto my bedside table: "Hey, stop pretending! That's enough."

I lay motionless on the bed.

He kicked the edge of the bed: "Daisy, I'm talking to you, are you deaf?"

"Fine, you've got guts. Don't eat, then. Starve to death."

He angrily poured the food into the trash can.

"Brother! I'm not pretending! I'm really dead! Look at my face, look at my hand!"

I floated in front of my third brother, waving my hands frantically, trying to catch his attention.

My third brother seemed to sense something, his footsteps faltering.

His gaze fell on my pale face and purplish lips.

In that instant, my heart leaped into my throat.

Was he going to discover it? Was he finally going to see me?

The next second, he scoffed: "Heh, your acting is damn good. You're even so committed to playing dead."

He turned and left, the door closing crisply.

...